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youngbloodlisk · 4 years

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warnings: threesome, foursome, daddy kink, master kink, probably every standard sexual act you can think of (i honestly cant even remember what was and wasnt included and we love that), choking, petnames, sir kink, biting, some public stuff, rough smut, rlly rough smut lmao, degradation, i think thats it? but if i missed something im very sorry my brain is kind of a mushy submissive mess after reading this

omg i loved this shgdhdjdhdgh even as someone who doesnt love daddy/master and stuff as much as other people i very much enjoyed this thank you for submitting it omg

ok that was all lisa talking, here’s the actual dom!yoongi, dom!taehyung, dom!jungkook, sub!reader submission from @kpop-4-ever:

Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung. You banged your head in your hands frustratedly. At one point, you missed and banged your head on the desk. The teacher stopped speaking and everyone looked at you. “I’m okay…” She shrugged and went back to writing impossible math problems on the board. All but one of the students directed their attention back to the board. You sighed and winced when you got hit by a note. You opened it and smiled. Your dorm @4 and your bed is mine. Quickly, you threw a glance at your mint-haired friend who smirked at you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. Luckily, you had homework so you wouldn’t fight over the bed.

Four rolled around quickly and you left your door unlocked. It wasn’t like your friend was going to knock anyways. “I’M HERE AND I BROUGHT A FRIEND.” “IN HERE.” You watched as he entered the room. “Hey, Yoongs!” He muttered a ‘hey’ and jumped on your bed. “My homework gives me more reaction than you.” “I’m here, too.” A small voice came from the doorway. “Chimmy!” Jimin was your childhood crush, but as all good things get older, they fade. That’s exactly what happened. Now you have a crush on the campus hot boy alien, Kim Taehyung. He was untouchable. Unreachable. He’s been on your mind since he gave you his umbrella and stood in the rain.

“Yoongles?” “Why do you hate me?” He sighed and groaned. “Cause I do. Now, did you pay attention in class?” You heard a slight chuckle. “I was zoned out but I know one thing. You were thinking of Taehyung.” He sneered. The closest soft thing was a plushie, so you decided to throw it at Yoongi. Jimin perked up. “I wanna talk about Tae.” “I don’t.” He forcefully turned your seat around and made you look at him. “We are talking about Taehyung.” “You looked like shit in class.” Of course, Yoongi noticed. No matter how much concealer you put on, he could tell. “I didn’t get good sleep last night.” “I can tell. These sheets smell clean, which means you washed them this morning.” True. You did. You hate washing your sheets so you do it once a month unless you have a reason to do it sooner.

"Okay, so I had a dream…” That was the truth… just not the full truth. “What kind of dream?” Yoongi smirked. “Obviously one about Taehyung, Jimin.” Sighing and blushing, you hid your head in your hands. “Ooh, was he choking you? Did he chain you up? Did he blindfold you? Did he make you call him daddy?” No. No. No. You absolutely did not want that image in your head right now, especially not in front of your friends. You bit back a moan and shuddered instead. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “He’s got you whipped.” Jimin giggled, playfully teasing you. You groaned. “Shut up, please!” Jimin looked taken aback. “Man, you need to get fucked and fast. You’re a bitch.” “I don’t need your criticism, Jimin. Or your advice.” At this point, the homework was forgotten until you turned around. Your phone buzzed violently.

ᗰᗩᗰᗩ ᒍIᑎ

Did you hear the news?

Did you?

Answer me!

I cannot believe you don’t love your brother

What news?

Taehyung’s heading towards your house

What!?

I think it was something like he’s moving in next to you.

WHAT!?

*out of text*

“SERIOUSLY, HE DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME THAT TAEHYUNG IS MOVING IN NEXT DOOR?” “Ooh, the tea is piping hot!” “Shut up, Jimin.” You groaned as someone knocked on the door. “Must be, Jinyoung.” The dorms were co-ed which was stupid, but you guess that the administration didn’t care if you got an STD, or worse, pregnant. Jinyoung hadn’t been home in weeks and you noticed his door was closed the entire time, but he was a private person so nothing was thought of it. You stood up and readjusted your shorts from riding up any farther. Thinking he could hear you, you started complaining to the door. “Jinyoung, you know that the key opens the door. Don’t tell me you lost it otherwise-“ You finally paid attention to who was at the door. Kim Taehyung. Jungkook was standing behind him with the second half of Taehyung’s stuff. “Hi! Are you going to let me in to my dorm, roomie?”

Subconsciously, you moved but you were still surprised. You didn’t think he’d be moving in with you. Where was he going to sleep? “Sit your stuff in the living room for now, please.” Slowly comprehending, you opened Jinyoung’s room to see it empty with a letter on the bed explaining that he was moving back home. That bitch left me, you thought. “In here.” Taehyung moved his stuff to the room and noticed the letter. “Jinyoung didn’t tell you did he?” Your head snapped to him confused. “Jinyoung recommended that I move in here. Said you were chill.” “You get settled in and I’m going back to my room.” He nodded and as soon as you shut your door you screamed. “FUCK!” Yoongi was sitting up, smirking at you and Jimin was giggling. “I think I’m going to leave…” “No you don’t.” You shoved Yoongi back on the bed and threw yourself in your chair.

A knock sounded on your bedroom door and Jimin opened it before you could react. Taehyung and Jungkook stood at the door. “YOU GOT AN XBOX ONE, PLAYSTATION, WII, AND TWO COMPUTERS FOR GAMING!” You giggled at Jungkook’s reaction. Typically, after school, you would come in here and play against people or just play for fun. “Is Jungkookie excited by my new roommate’s gaming system?” He nodded. “If you want, we can play sometime, Jungkook.” You could see him glowing with excitement. “I can come back if you want to be alone.” Taehyung eyed Jimin and Yoongi cautiously. His tone told you that he was thinking you were going to do something with Jimin and Yoongi. “It’s okay, they’re just friends.” “I’m not just your friend…” Jimin is not helping. “I’m your childhood best friend too!” “Go order takeout and make yourself useful.”

He stuck his tongue out at you before going to the living room to order. “What do you need?” “I was wondering if you’d help me do laundry?” Yoongi chuckled and gave you a look. That ‘this is the guy you want to fuck you’ look. “You don’t know how to do laundry?” He sheepishly grinned. “I mean, I do, but I don’t want to break another washer because it was different.” Jungkook chimed in much to the despair of his best friend. “Oh yeah! You broke the knob off and then fried the wiring.” Yoongi chuckled at you. Through gritted teeth, Taehyung spoke. “Yes, I was referring to that one.” Thankfully, Jimin came back into the room which saved Taehyung from complete embarrassment. Whatever, you thought. “Let’s go, it’s downstairs.” He nodded and grabbed his laundry. The two of you walked side by side in silence until you got to the laundry room. He watched closely as you showed him how to use the washer, eyes analyzing your every move.

———————————————————

On more than one occasion, you went with Taehyung to do his laundry, only staying in when you needed to study. This time was no different. The two of you had grown close, even going as far as you kissing him when you were flat out drunk from a party Jimin threw. “Why do you wash your clothes so much? Do you like me or something?” “Or something,” he responded, not paying attention to you drooling over him. His shirt stayed taut in all the right places. You watched as he tossed his clothes in the washer and started it. Growing bored as the time passed, you hopped up on the dryer and dangled your legs off the side. Keeping up with the conversation, you moved your legs as Taehyung transferred his clothes to the dryer and turned it on. Bad idea to sit on the dryer. You lurched forward as it vibrated beneath you, grazing your clit. You moaned softly and then blushed after realizing what happened.

“I-I have to go.” You were too embarrassed to stay and deal with the fact that your hot roommate heard you get turned on by a dryer. “Stay.” Taehyung’s voice was dominant and turned you on even more. Your juices were slowly soaking through to your shorts. Luckily, you were wearing black so it didn’t show, but at least you were in a place where you could wash your clothes. “Did that turn you on?” You shook your head. “Answer me, baby doll.” A small whimper left your lips when he forced his leg in between yours. “Yes, Daddy.” Daddy. Taehyung just realized that he had a Daddy kink. “Fuck, that was hot.” He watched as your face turned pink and looked away from him. This was not acceptable in his book. His hand gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. You looked into his lust-filled eyes and gulped as he leaned in closer, lips brushing yours. The need controlled your movements as you pulled him into a heated kiss. It was a mess of moans and tongues as you submitted to Taehyung.

Pulling away to catch your breath, Taehyung nipped and sucked at the soft skin of your neck, leaving marks. “We can’t do this here. There are cameras.” He nipped harshly at a sweet spot, causing you to moan. “Let them watch.” Forcing yourself not to succumb to his wants, you pushed him away. “We’ll get kicked out.” You jumped down only to be pushed against the wall. Taehyung grinded himself against you, the pleasure making you throw your head back. “Tae,” your voice was barely a whimper now. “You can’t leave me hanging babydoll, now can you?” “No Daddy but-“ He effectively cut you off by thrusting his long, slender fingers in your mouth, making you gag at the sudden intrusion. Drool spilled out of the corner of your mouth, making you feel absolutely filthy. If one were to walk into the laundry room, they’d know exactly what was going down or more who was going down.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, nearing closer to the laundry room. “Stay quiet, babydoll and they won’t know a thing. You can do that for me, right?” “Yes, Daddy,” you sighed. “Good girl.” Taehyung removed his fingers from your mouth and wiped them on his sweatpants. “Hey, Taehyung. ________.” You managed to squeak out a small hi to your classmate, but Taehyung’s wandering hands didn’t help either. When she looked away to grab clothes, Taehyung’s large hand groped your breast, pinching your sensitive nipple through the shirt. “Shit,” you gasped. “Are you okay?” You looked up to see the girl staring at you worried. “Yeah, just had a cold chill.” It wasn’t a total lie, but it was believable enough for her to return to her laundry. “Who knew my baby doll had a little mouth on her?” Taehyung whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “What else can that pretty mouth say?” “Wait until we get back to the dorm to do anything,” you hissed, scared of getting caught but loving the thrill. “Tsk. Are you disrespecting me? Do I need to punish you?”

The thought of what Taehyung could do to you made you even wetter. Your juices threatened to escape your shorts and show him how much that affected you but there was no need. His fingers slipped into your shorts and ran across your clit forcing you to bite your lip to keep quiet. “Hey, you look sick. Are you okay?” You looked up to find the girl staring at you and suddenly, you were all too aware of Taehyung’s fingers threatening to push into you in a public area. “Yeah, it’s just hot in here.” “It is a little, but will you be kind enough to watch my clothes? I have to study and I don’t want someone to set them on top again in the middle of the wash.” A quick nod made her smile, and leave the room. “Babydoll, I think you have a voyeurism kink.” A smirk was etched on his face as you turned to him, wide-eyed. “And I think I know just how to satiate that. Would you like me to call Jungkookie? Or how about Yoongi hyung, hmm? How would you like to have your best friend watch you get ruined?”

“You don’t even need to talk, your body is talking for you,” he purred into your ear. You whined when he slipped his hands out of your shorts and tapped your lips. “Open up, babydoll.” Maybe you could get some retribution for his teasing. The lewd sucking sounds from you made Taehyung groan out loud. He pulled his fingers out and dried them on his sweatpants before turning to the dryer. “I think the dryer’s done.” Your mouth hung open as he completely ignored the fact that he had just been toying with you, making you a mess. Taehyung grabbed his phone and pulled up his contacts before calling someone. “I’ll be right back,” he said heading out to the hallway. Dumbfounded, you stood in place trying to figure out what just happened. Sexually frustrated, you squeezed your thighs together, hoping that your classmate would come to get her clothes so you could go home and fix your own problems. Fuck Taehyung. Fuck him and his effect on you.

“Hey, thank you! I owe you a favor.” You came back down to earth to see the second person you wanted to see the most. “Oh, it’s no biggie.” Exhaling heavily, you grabbed Taehyung’s clothes from the dryer, put them in his basket, and walked out to where he stood, still on his phone. He grunted when you shoved the basket into his chest before stomping back to the apartment, clearly struggling to keep your cool. Behind you, you heard Taehyung chuckle. “Okay, see you soon. Bye.” Was he really going to leave you like this? Almost immediately, you shut your bedroom door. You threw yourself face down on your bed, screaming. You turned over and stared at the ceiling, thinking about how it would feel to have Taehyung’s long fingers reaching lengths that your own couldn’t. Just the thought itself made your hands crawl down to the place that needed the most attention. You wasted no time slipping your fingers in between your folds, collecting the slick that was now dripping down onto the back of your shorts.

With ease, you pushed in one finger, your back arching at the pleasure. “Fuck,” you moaned out, now thrusting your fingers in and out. Moans spilled from your mouth as you edged closer to your high. Your door creaked open and you heard a tsk. “Babydoll, you couldn’t wait for me?” “You were busy on the phone,” you spat. “Being a little brat, are we? I think I can fix that.” Taehyung grabbed the silk tie from your robe hanging on the door and crawled onto your bed. “Hands.” “No, I’m so close,” you whimpered. He ignored your pleading as his large hands wrapped around your wrists, forcing them up towards the bed frame. “You don’t want to listen, then you don’t get to cum, baby doll. Fine. By. Me.” You tugged at the silk that restricted you to the bed. “Tae,” you whined out, earning a glare. “What did you just call me?” He asked darkly. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” His dark eyes disappeared when he smiled, causing you to internally scream at the fact that he could look so sexy one minute, but the next minute so cute.

“I brought you a gift!” Taehyung exclaimed, excitedly. Confused, you watched as he opened the door to reveal your best friend, leaning against your door frame. “Y-Yoongi, what are you doing here?” “No speaking without permission, Babydoll.” Yoongi strolled in and sat down in your desk chair, spreading his legs while exerting dominance. “Daddy, what are you doing?” “Kitten, I believe he told you not to talk without permission.” You gulped and watched as Taehyung stalked you like his prey. “Hmm, I bet you taste sweet.” Your hips rutted into the air as Taehyung dragged his fingers up your leg, over the spot you wanted them most, over your chest, and to your cheeks where he harshly squeezed them and forced you to look at him. “I want you to be a good girl for me. Or else.” Without warning, Taehyung ripped your shirt, exposing the dark red bra that you were thankful you had put on before going to the laundry room. “We won’t be needing this,” he said before reaching underneath you and unclasping your bra in one swift motion.

As the garment was thrown across the room, Taehyung was working at your perked nipples. You gasped as he pinched and twisted the sensitive bud. A low chuckle escaped from his lips as he took the other in his mouth, using his tongue to stimulate you. “Fuck,” you whined. Taehyung pulled back and removed his hands. “I’m pretty sure Taehyung made himself clear, Kitten,” Yoongi stated. You looked up at Taehyung as if asking for permission to talk. “You may speak, babydoll.” “I’m sorry, Daddy. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Just touch me please,” you said desperately, already having been denied an orgasm once. “I think you should ask Yoongi hyung what he thinks.” “Yoongi-“ He held up his hand to quiet you. “If you want to get anywhere with me, then you should call me master.” “Master, I’ll do anything, I just want someone to touch me. Please.” You saw a small smirk appear on his face as you spoke. “Taehyung, I think Kitten wants you to taste her.” “With pleasure.”

Taehyung tapped your thigh to signal for you to lift your hips so he could take off your shorts. “Babydoll, you're soaked. Is it because of Daddy or maybe it’s caused by your master?” You took your lip in between your teeth to stop the noises threatening to release themselves. A loud moan forced its way out of your mouth as Taehyung licked a stripe up your folds. “How does she taste?” “So good.” Just as quick as he spoke, he was already diving back in, devouring you like a starved man. You let out a broken sob at the euphoric feeling. If your hands weren’t tied, they’d be tangled up in Taehyung’s messy hair. Instead, you let your thighs tighten around his head. “Kitten, you're gonna suffocate him.” The male in between your legs let out a groan when he realized Yoongi’s words affected you. “Use your fingers, Taehyung.” Complying to Yoongi’s command, Taehyung slipped a finger into you, moving it at a fast pace. “Don’t be a pussy, add more. She can take it.” “Master-“ Your words were cut off by the male adding two more fingers. You felt your high approaching and so did Taehyung. Right before you came, he pulled away, letting your orgasm fade.

“You didn’t think I’d actually let you come so soon, did you, babydoll? You’ve been a bad girl.” You stared at him, tears spilling out of your eyes from being so close. “Don’t look so sad, Kitten. We’re just getting started.” Taehyung crawled off the bed and stripped off his shirt and pants, leaving himself in his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight of Taehyung’s bulge straining against his boxers. You happily sighed as he took them off, letting his dick stand tall and proud. “Like what you see?” Taehyung asked cockily. “I know for a fact that Yoongi’s bigger.” He let out a growl, sounding almost animalistic as Yoongi chuckled from the side. “Well, she’s not wrong.” “It doesn’t matter the size, as long as you fuck your bitch right.” The bed dipped as he untied the silk from the bed frame. He pulled you towards him, seeing as how your wrists were still tied together. “And tonight, along with every other night, you are my bitch.” His lips crashed against yours in a messy make out. You fought for dominance but ultimately lost. Taehyung pulled away for air and readjusted you so you were on his lap. Even though he was dominating you, he still wanted to make sure you were ready for him.

“Are you ready?” The sincerity in his voice was sweet but you were too far gone to care. “Take me, daddy. Make me your bitch.” You whispered the last word into his ear before nibbling at it, making him groan. Taehyung lifted you up and helped you ease onto his dick. He let out a guttural groan as he bottomed out. “Move for me, babydoll.” Using his chest as leverage, you brought your body up before slamming it back down, repeating the process. Eventually, you started to slow down, becoming worn out from doing all the work. Taehyung gladly took control, flipping you over and pounding you deep into the mattress, making you moan out loud. You glanced over at Yoongi, who was watching the entire show with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. A sharp gasp left your lips as Taehyung found that ‘special’ spot. “YOONGI,” you screamed out in pleasure, making Taehyung wrap his hands around your throat and lean down towards you. He chuckled deeply into your ear. “Oh babydoll, you’re in for a long night.”

You became frustrated when Taehyung pulled out once again, making you cry out. “Daddy. Please let me cum just once.” He pretended to think about it before shaking his head. “I think you’ve been a good girl but I’m not letting you cum. He might though.” You froze and looked to where Taehyung was pointing. Jungkook stood dumbfounded in the doorway, watching your naked body shudder under his gaze. Yoongi pulled up the other chair and patted it, signaling Jungkook to sit down. You watched as he shifted in his chair, trying to ignore the raging hard-on he was sporting. “Looks like Jungkookie has a little problem. Why don’t you let him use you? Maybe he’ll let you cum.” Jungkook visibly gulped as Taehyung stepped away and gave him permission to come up to you. “C-Can I?” He asked, reaching out for your hand. “Yes, sir.” His eyes darkened at the two little words that held a monumental effect on him. Jungkook carefully took your hand in his, wanting to be a little more on the sweet side.

“She’s not porcelain, she won’t break,” Taehyung scoffed. “Trust me, I know.” He added, throwing you a smirk. “You’re right, I didn’t break. Maybe you just didn’t fuck me hard enough.” Sure you were gonna die, but it would be worth it. “Bitch-“ Jungkook turned and stood face to face with Taehyung. “You said it was my turn, therefore; it’s my turn. Clearly, you didn’t impress her.” Taehyung backed up, astonished that his friend just spoke back to him. Jungkook returned to his spot beside you and untied your wrists. “No need for this.” You sighed and rolled your wrists, happy that there wasn’t something restraining them anymore. “Thank you, sir.” “On your knees.” Gladly, you dropped down on your knees in front of him. His hands fumbled to get the belt on his jeans undone, but once he got it off everything else was easy. “I want you to put that pretty mouth to use. You said you don’t have a gag reflex and I’m here to test that, Princess.”

Once his dick was free from its confinement, you set to work, smearing his precum along his length. He let out an almost pornographic moan when you kitten licked his tip. “Don’t tease.” Not wanting to make him wait any longer, you opened your mouth and fit as much as you could at one time. “Good girl,” Jungkook groaned, his fingers tangling into your hair and pushing you further down, enjoying the feeling of your tongue swirling around his dick. You hollowed your cheeks and began to suck on his length softly. He bucked his hips harshly when he felt you swallow the drool threatening to spill out of the corners of your mouth. “I can’t hold back, Princess.” You tapped his thigh signaling to let go of his restraint and just fuck your mouth until your throat is raw. Jungkook happily did so, thrusting roughly to the point where your nose reached the skin at the base of his dick. “You weren’t lying, babydoll. You really don’t have a gag reflex.” Feeling proud of your little feat, you sucked harshly making Jungkook’s head fall back in pleasure. Somewhere in there, you swore you heard Yoongi mumble, “fuck, that’s hot,” under his breath.

“I’m cumming, Princess.” You felt him pull out of your mouth and use his hand to get his release. “Open your mouth,” Jungkook commanded. Just the sheer tone of his voice made you eagerly stick out your tongue awaiting his next move. He moaned as he came, his release staying mainly on your tongue but escaping to your chin and down to your chest. “Look at the little cum slut so eager to please,” Yoongi chuckled, his thumb coming to wipe the excess off your chin and bringing it to your mouth. “Open up, Princess.” You took Yoongi’s thumb in your mouth and sucked, trying to make his facade break. “You can show me what that little mouth of yours can do later. Right now, it’s Jungkook’s turn, Kitten.” Listening to Yoongi, you turned to see Jungkook already shirtless and working on his skinny jeans. You gawked at his muscles, admiring how well built he was. “Shit,” you whispered under your breath, imagining Jungkook fucking you up against your bedroom wall. His strong arms holding you up while his hips thrust into you at an inhuman pace.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Princess.” Back in reality, Jungkook was already stripped and standing in front of you. “Nothing, sir.” “Now don’t lie or you won’t get what you want.” You gulped nervously and spoke. “I was thinking about you f-fucking me against the wall.” Your voice was hushed and raw but Jungkook still smirked, hearing you clearly. “Your wish is my command.” Before you could speak, his hands were already helping you to your feet. He pulled you into a kiss that started out soft, his teeth occasionally nibbling at your bottom lip. “Jump.” As soon as your legs wrapped around his body, the kiss became rougher and needier. Your hands tangled into his hair, and your back hit the cold wall, making you whine. With his strength, he gingerly slid you onto his length. The sound of his skillful hips slapping against your skin soon filled the room as Jungkook set to work on covering your neck in his marks. You moaned when he found your sweet spot. “Found it,” he said with a small chuckle. He continued his assault on your neck, enjoying the sinful sounds you made dangerously close to his ear.

“Sir, I’m going to cum,” you whispered in between marking his neck. “Cum for me, Princess.” Unable to hold back any longer, you bit down onto Jungkook’s neck as you came, your moans being muffled. Jungkook wasn’t expecting you to have a biting kink but it had him pulling out and cumming in seconds. “I wasn’t expecting that,” he worded breathlessly. Your head laid on his shoulders, tired and worn out. Jungkook laid you onto the bed and watched as you started to drift off, chuckling because they were not done with you. Sleep was only an inch away when you were jolted awake by a tongue against your sensitive clit. You looked down to see Yoongi lazily eating you out, taking his time and ruining any chance of you getting any energy back. “Yoongi,” you whimpered out, earning a small bite on your thigh. “Master, please. I can’t take it. It hurts.” He pulled his head up to look at you with dangerous eyes. “Keep complaining and I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” You threw your head back in defeat as Yoongi continued his assault. After a minute or two, he decided to add one of his fingers, pushing it in slowly. Instinctively, your hips bucked into his fingers to get more friction. Your own fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling when his fingers pushed in.

It was so dirty and filthy the way you were enjoying how your best friend was making you feel. The way his tongue skillfully danced across your clit. The way the sucking and nibbling made you cry out in pleasure. “Did I say you could make noise?” “No but-“Yoongi looked up at you with a dark, piercing gaze. “Make one more sound, and I’ll punish you.” You almost whimpered at the sound of his harsh tone, but you held it back and nodded your head. “Good girl.” While Yoongi was teasing you, you tried your hardest to not make a sound, biting your lip so hard it almost started to bleed. His lips traveled up your body, placing light, feathery kisses along with marks that would take weeks to disappear. He crashed his lips against yours in a messy make out and you were careful not to make noise. Your hips moved along with his fingers at a fast pace, making the whole scene feel heavenly. Everyone else in the room became non-existent as Yoongi kissed you roughly, sending bolts down to your core. Even as you were making out with him, you still fought the urge to make noise. Yoongi pulled away from the kiss. “Struggling much, kitten?”

With all your strength, you reached up and crashed your lips against his again to stop the whine threatening to slip from your lips. You were so caught up in kissing him, that you didn’t feel his fingers run through your hair. Yoongi waited a few seconds before tugging your hair harshly. A cry escaped your lips as you grabbed the sheets, crumpling up the once pristine purple sheets. Your eyes widened at the realization of what you had just done, broken his only rule. “Master, please. I didn’t mean to.” The pleads of forgiveness slipped out in a broken voice. Yoongi chuckles darkly. “I had one rule, kitten. And you couldn’t even follow it. I’m disappointed. I didn’t want to have to punish you.” “Please. I’ve been a good girl. Don’t do this,” you whined, feeling his fingers work your orgasm closer. Noticing the way you clenched heavily around his fingers, he pulled them out of you. “You sound cute when you beg, kitten. I can’t wait to make you beg me to stop. If you take your punishment like the good girl I know you are, I’ll fuck you until you’re crying. Okay?” You nodded desperately. “Good. You didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

“On your knees, slut. I’m going to fuck your throat raw,” Yoongi commanded. While you got on your knees and awaited your fate, Yoongi undressed himself. He walked to where you were kneeling for him. You were too busy looking at the floor to notice him, so he yanked your hair to make you look at him. “Now that I have your attention, you ready?” You took a deep breath before nodding at him. He released your hair, but only for a minute. He pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he thrust into your mouth. Yoongi chuckled as drool dribbled out of your mouth and down your chin. His low groans were music to your ears. As he grew closer to his release, his pace got rougher and sloppier. Right before he came, he pulled out of your mouth, breathing heavily. “Master, you didn’t cum,” you forced out, your words not fully forming because of your raw throat. “Listen to that. Babydoll can’t speak properly.” Yoongi threw a smirk towards the two other boys in the room as if saying ‘I did this and you didn’t’. “I don’t want to cum yet because you are going to take it like the little cumslut you are. And you’ll enjoy every minute of it whether you like it or not.”

You mentally smiled, knowing that even though Yoongi was treating you like a slut, he would stop if need be. “Bed. Now.” You immediately stood up and went to the bed, complying to Yoongi’s command. “Face down, ass up,” he enunciated each word, forcing you to do the action by pressing his hand in the middle of your back and pushing down so your back was arched. The bed dipped as he climbed up behind you and prepared himself. The stretch was a little different from Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s dicks. It was slightly longer than Jungkook’s but less girthier and Taehyung just couldn’t compare. Taehyung’s length was a bit shorter and less girthier than both men. It was perfect for a causal sex but right now, you wanted to be fucked, destroyed, not able to walk tomorrow. The sound of Yoongi placing harsh smacks on your ass while pounding you face first into the mattress was a sight for the others. Jungkook had gotten his phone out and started to record while Taehyung had grabbed his camera from the other room and took pictures of your fucked out expressions to add to his new keepsake box.

“Let the neighbours hear how good I make you feel, kitten,” Yoongi growled out, focusing on the feeling of you clenching around him. A loud, pornographic moan erupted from your lips, eliciting a smirk from Yoongi. He groaned when he looked at where your cunt was swallowing his dick, pulling it in with a vice-like grip. A word slipped past your mouth, making Yoongi chuckle. “Are you sure you’re ready for me to go faster, kitten?” You tapped the bed, signaling yes as your confirmation words were swallowed into the mattress. Your face went even further into the mattress… if that was even possible. Yoongi thrusted into you at an almost animalistic pace, making you scream into the sheets. “Maybe you should fuck the bitch more often if she screams that loud for you,” Taehyung said, his voice deeper than usual. “Maybe I should. It’s not like you could anyways.” Taehyung clenched his jaw, but opted to not say anything. “Are you going cum all over my dick for me, Kitten?” Knowing you couldn't answer, Yoongi continued to thrust into you harshly, edging you closer to your limit. “Yoongi,” you yelled out as he continued his relentless pace through your orgasm, immediately overstimulating you.

“I’m not stopping until I cum, little brat.” He flipped you over onto your back and repositioned you so that your leg was on his shoulder and the other was against your chest. Tears spilled from your eyes as he ignored your pleas. His hips stuttered as he came inside of you, thrusting a little more to milk himself of every last drop before he fell beside you. “I did too much work,” he huffed out. “Pfft. A good fuck goes all night. A mediocre fuck goes one round,” Taehyung teased, riling up the mint haired boy. “I never said I couldn’t go more rounds, I just said I’m done doing the work.” While the two bickered back and forth, Jungkook was already making his way over to you, wheeling in the chair. With the last bit of strength you had, you climbed into his lap. “How are you feeling, princess?” He asked sweetly. You laid your head on his shoulder, tired. “Sore and tired,” you sighed out, placing a soft kiss on his neck. Jungkook placed a kiss to your forehead and allowed you to rest for a minute or two. “Don’t go to sleep yet. We aren’t finished with you,” he said softly but yet something about it was hot. Discreetly, his hands moved your bottom half against his growing problem. “Sir, please. Five more minutes.” Jungkook sighed sharply. “But I need to be in you.” You lifted yourself up and allowed Jungkook to slip his dick into your sensitive heat.

“Don’t move.” While he didn’t enjoy orders from you, he did enjoy the warmth of your tight walls around his length. Caught up in the passion and slowness of the moment, you kissed Jungkook. You kissed him slowly and passionately, not rough like you did when he was taking you against the wall. His hands laid upon your waist, holding you close. Your arms were wrapped around the back of his neck as you continued your soft make out session. You were so into the kiss that you didn’t realize a few things. A)Jungkook had started moving, going against your instructions, B) Yoongi was watching what was going on, and C) Taehyung was now behind you, trailing his fingers up your body as he sucked marks on your neck and shoulder bone. Feeling Taehyung behind you, sucking and biting at your neck made you kiss Jungkook with a little bit more rush. “Let’s turn you around, babydoll.” Careful, not to move too much, you turned around and came face to face with two dicks. “We’ll give Jungkook the pleasure of finishing off in you last, but I want your mouth, babydoll. Let me see what had the others coming so fast.”

Yoongi looked at you expectantly, clearly not wanting to be left to help himself. Your hand wrapped around his dick and began to pump his length. Taehyung on the other hand, had tapped your lips with his fingers making you open up. He slid his dick in easily and you hollowed your cheeks before bobbing your mouth up and down. Jungkook, noticing that you were preoccupied, took matters into his own hands by bucking his hips up into you causing you to moan around Taehyung. The vibrations against his length made Taehyung groan out and you were pretty sure the neighbours could hear and knew exactly what was going on. “I’m taking over, okay Babydoll?” You looked up at him through your blown out eyes and nodded. His long fingers grabbed ahold of your hair and the back of your head pushing you down to meet his thrust. He did this a couple of times to test the waters before picking up the speed almost making you gag at times. The hand that was working Yoongi stuttered as you tried to focus on the two things that were fucking into you and he quickly lost patience, taking matters into his own hands (metaphorically).

Yoongi started fucking into your hand at the same pace as Taehyung, imagining that it was your skillful tongue working him and not a measly hand. Your knees quickly grew painful at the hard cracked leather scraping and scratching at them but you pushed through. In your bliss, you looked up and saw Taehyung become a groaning mess as he felt his high near. His face was contorted with pleasure as his hands grabbed whatever was nearest to him which happened to be your desk. Yoongi was close by, moaning out your name as you struggled to keep your hand shaped for him. Jungkook wasn’t far behind as he had been edging himself during the time Yoongi was fucking the life out of you. You weren’t as close as the others and you were counting on one of them to help you. “I’m coming, babydoll,” Taehyung choked out. You swallowed the drool that had form in your mouth around him to make room for the next thing. His large hand pushed your head down all the way and released down your throat effectively making you gag. He pulled away, exhausted and went to grab some lotion and towels.

You felt Yoongi’s thumb grab up the excess cum from your mouth and wiped it on your bottom lip. You were going to lick it off to tease him but Jungkook hit just right and had your head falling back against his shoulder. “Sir, more please.” “Yoongi is finished yet.” A whine fell from your lips but you set to work making your hand meet Yoongi’s thrusts. You leaned down to where his dick poked through and kitten licked the tip each time it came through. “Shit. Keep doing that and I won’t be able to hold back.” A few more thrusts or so of doing that and he was cumming. Bits of it were all over your neck and face and some landed on your breasts. The entire picture was lewd. Before Yoongi could get affected by the scene again, he rushed to get the bath running. “It’s just you and me, princess.” With ease, Jungkook went faster while you slammed your hips down to meet his. “Jungkookie, I’m cumming!” “Cum for me, Princess.” He had neared his high right as you had and you both came at the same time. You shut your eyes, tired, sore and hungry. A scream came from the doorway.

“What the fuck?” The new voice had Taehyung and Yoongi running, only Yoongi had the decency to wear a towel around his waist. “YOONGI? Oh my god! I’ll come back later. Have fun.” “Jimin-ah.” Yoongi called him, effectively making the boy turn and stare. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll break you.” Jimin smiled sheepishly knowing he would die if he didn’t listen. “I believe you. I mean, you already broke our best friend. Wait, is she still your best friend or….” “Go wait in the living room.” You gave a weak smile as you heard Jimin laugh down the hallway, running from Yoongi. “Let’s get you two in the bath.” The voice wasn’t registering in your head but you felt yourself being lifted up and placed in the hot bath. Not long after, you felt another body enter the tub. “Come cuddle me, Princess.” “No, we are washing you guys up.” You felt hands placing soap in your hair, washing it before moving onto your body. “She’s tired, Taehyung.” “We all fucked her pretty good.” “Correction, I did.” “Shut up Kook.” “You, Tae.” You chuckled at the boys and let whoever was washing you, continue. “Come on, up you go.” It was Yoongi washing you with such gentleness. He wrapped a towel around you as soon as he helped you stand up. “Let’s go get you some clothes,” he spoke softly which was a nice change from all the times before.

You walked out to the living room in Jungkook's shirt and a pair of loose shorts and nothing else. With the help of the walls, you walked out to Jimin and sat beside him. “One of the boys couldn’t have helped you out here?” “I could do it myself, I’m a big girl,” you said weakly. “Yes you are. So tell me….” You looked at him expectantly, not knowing what was going to be said. “How were they? Especially Yoongi! Was he as big and good as he claimed to be?” The way Jimin threw question after question and cutely stared at you waiting for the answers made you laugh. “They were good and Yoongi is way better and bigger than what he said he was.” The two of you got lost in conversation when the other three came out to sit on the couch and chairs. “I hear you talking good things about Yoongi and Jungkook but what about me?” “You were okay,” you teased Taehyung who pouted. Still hazy from the sex, you leaned over and kissed him. “Did you just kiss me?” “Was I not allowed to?” You question, curious as to why not right now, just minutes after they were all kissing and making out with you. “What are we?” Jungkook asked. “Whatever you guys want to be,” you shrugged, down with being in a relationship or a friends with benefits situation or even just friends and this never happened. The room was silent with people thinking of what to call this.

Yoongi spoke up first. “I’m okay with all of us being in a relationship.” “You’re suggesting polyamory?” You asked, watching his head nod. “I’m down!” All four heads turned to look at the enthusiastic Jungkook already eyeing you. “All you guys need is Taehyung,” Jimin pointed out. “Yeah, I’m good with it. I have more chances to prove myself now.” You threw the pillow at Taehyung and laughed when it hit his head. “Shut up.” “How about no?” “Wait, so this means that I can do couply things with you guys and kiss you and be alone with you?” Yoongi nodded. “Yeah but don’t kiss me in public. Don’t need Jimin getting jealous.” “Yah! I’m not jealous. You’re mediocre at best, hyung.” You smacked Jimin’s chest making him wince. “Don’t say anything you don’t know.” “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re an expert on Yoongi now,” he joked, sticking his tongue out at you. “I am. And I am an expert on Taehyung and Jungkook. Got a problem?” “No. You aren’t an expert on me so we are good.” You painfully crossed your arms standing your ground. “Oh yeah? Should I tell them about the 3 am Dream calls where you interrupt my sleep talking about your sex dreams?” Jimin’s eyes went wide. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll go order Chinese as a sorry.” The four of you laughed as you watched Jimin scurry off to order food. “Hey, princess?” You turned towards Jungkook only to be met by a quick kiss. “Meanie.”

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here ya go :) (i'm suffering)

#bts #yoongi #taehyung #jungkook #bts smut #yoongi smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #submission #kpop-4-ever

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Text

Toy Box

Part 5

Read on ao3

(No smut, but there’s a lot of sex talk)

“No, I’m telling you, it was, like, really sweet.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly the word I was looking for. Sweet.”

Steve was back on Robin’s couch.

“No, but I mean, like, with making sure I get something to eat, and like, staying in his room so I don’t have to see him, because he doesn’t want me to be uncomfortable. And then he tried to like, equal the score.”

Robin was just staring at him, her head cradled in one hand, her elbow propped on the back of the couch.

“You got it bad.” Steve scrunched up his face, pouting at her.

“I do not.”

“You’re so into him.”

“I mean, I think he’s hot, and obviously he’s like nice, but I’m not into him.” She rolled her eyes.

Billy was sitting back on their couch when Steve got home, his laptop open on the coffee table. He smiled at Steve.

Steve was slightly better around him since the night before.

He still couldn’t look him in the eye, but he could be in the same room as Billy without wanting to put his head in the doorway and slam it closed.

Which was progress.

“Hey, I was gonna text you. It cool if I smoke in here?” Steve toed off his shoes.

“Smoke like, pot?”

“Devil’s lettuce. Yeah.” He was grinning when Steve turned around.

“Knock yourself out. Just open a window or something.”

“You want some?” Billy had pulled out a cigarette case, a couple joints nestled securely inside. Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot

This was a peace offering.

Getting stoned together and maybe talking shit out.

Plus, Steve wouldn’t mind gettin’ a little high.

“You know what, sure.” He flopped down on the opposite side of the couch.

Billy lit the joint, taking two long hits before passing it to Steve.

Steve settled into the couch, taking a steady hit.

They were quiet as they smoked down the joint, let the high settle in.

“Sorry about making you uncomfortable. Not really how I pictured my living situation.”

“Sorry for being the weirdest person ever.” Billy shifted on the couch, stretched one leg between them to gently kick Steve’s leg.

“You’re not weird. I mean, it’s a weird situation.” Steve coughed out a laugh, smoke pouring out of his mouth. “I know a lot about your personal sex life now.”

“Yeah. No one has seen me like you’ve seen me that isn’t actively fucking me.”

Billy laughed softly.

“Can I ask? Like, why such an extensive collection.” Steve shrugged.

“Toys are fun.”

“You’ve got a good amount.” Steve shrugged.

“I had this girlfriend in high school, and she didn’t really like having, like, penetrative sex, you know? She said it hurt a lot for her. So we’d do all kinds of other stuff, and one day she was like, what you think about anal? And I was like, I’m down to try and she kinda got quiet as was like, and what about you being the one receiving? And explained that she wanted to try pegging and I was like, honestly, I’m down for whatever. So, first time we do it, she got two fingers in me and I was like, fuck, this is it. Since then, I’ve just been all about it.”

Billy looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Sorry. I kinda overshare when I’m high.”

“No! No, it’s totally cool.”

“I feel like you just know a lot about my asshole now.”

“You wanna hear about my dick? Even the score?” Steve looked at him.

Billy was grinning lazily, his eyes hooded. Steve felt himself smile slowly.

“Cut or uncut?” Billy took the joint from Steve.

“Uncut.” Steve raised one eyebrow.

“How long?”

“Hard, or soft?”

“Of course you know both.”

“That’s ‘cause the needy little bottoms on Grindr are always askin’.”

“On behalf of my people, hey. And hard. Hard is the only time dick size actually matters.”

“Just over seven inches.” Steve nodded slowly.

“Congratulations.” Billy barked out a laugh. “That’s an award winning hog right there.”

“Yours ain’t too bad yourself.” Steve flushed.

“For one, glorious, second, I had forgotten you walked in on me.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“It’s okay.” Steve took another hit, the joint beginning to burn down to the filter. “I think the worst part was the position. If I had just like, been one my back or something. But no. I had to be fuckin’ upside down.”

“I’ve fucked someone in that position before. I think it’s a fan favorite.”

“You get really deep, and like, you can see it, which is hot. And then you end up cumming on your own face, which is like, all kinds of dirty.”

“So, you’re like, a sub then, too.”

“Mostly. I was fucking around with this one guy, and he liked it when I dommed him, so I would like, tie him to the bed and ride him and stuff. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love submitting, but that was pretty fun, too.”

“When you said you like it all, you really like it all.” Steve shrugged.

“If it feels good and everyone’s comfortable, what’s not to like?” Billy offered him the last hit, and Steve took it, putting out the smoldering roach in the ash tray Billy had no doubt set out. “Although I’m at the point where I can’t really cum unless there’s something up my ass. So like, on the off chance I do top, I gotta wear a plug or something.”

“Really?” Billy was appraising him. Steve just nodded.

Billy just smiled.

“Not to like, make this weird, but you do realize you just made eye contact with me, right?” Steve felt his face go hot.

“Don’t get used to it. Once I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna regret telling you all of this, and go right back to begging for death every time I come within ten feet of you.”

“Oh, come on,” Billy groaned dramatically. “Quit bein’ so embarrassed! A sex toy collection is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It is when it’s fuckin’ huge. And most of the toys are massive. And you’ve got five, five different monster cocks.”

“Five? Really? I only saw the two.”

“So I’ve got the tentacle one that you saw, and the big curvy red one that was on the floor that first day, I’ve also got a pointy kinda dragony one, a werewolf one with a bit knot at the bottom, and the demogorgon one, which is the biggest toy I have. I don’t use it a lot. Takes a while to work up to.”

“Yeah. I could, uh, see why.” Billy was grinning at him. “That’s quite a collection.”

“Hey, they’re the best ones I own. It’s not really about the whole, monster thing, for me, I mean, it can be, with the right fantasy, I guess. But, it’s more just the crazy shape and textures and stuff. You don’t get that in a lot of other companies. It just feels good.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta explain shit to me.”

“Yeah, but I’m absolutely zooted so I’m gonna over explain and overshare my little heart out.”

“You wanna watch a movie? I was gonna watch Legally Blonde.” Steve gave Billy a look. “What? It’s a good fuckin’ movie.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m down for that.”

Steve went off to his room, re-emerging a few minutes later with the comforter off his bed, his jeans swapped out for a pair of shorts.

He flushed when he noticed Billy watching his thighs.

#zest of lemon #i mean i could tag this as lemon but jsut like #let me know #yikes write #toy box #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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maijily · 4 years

Text

INTRAAAASSSSSS RELEASE NOTES

Heya Tumblr. How have you been? ;)

It’s time for the Intracodes to be announced~~ But this post is super long so don’t continue unless you want 289347329 years of text

You’ve been warned

GUESS WHAT THE HIATUS IS OVER!!! ...Kinda. There’s still a few things left to do before DC, Omission, and Tumblr can come back to life, but trust that things are moving and it’s only a matter of time before they all start posting again.

BUT FOR NOW, we have intras. I hope you haven’t forgotten about them-- Intra submissions started a few months ago, where anyone could submit an OC who would end up being canon in the world of DC, either in the current lore or a future comic! ARA’s an example of a submission who ended up in DC’s hiatus chapters as a healer outcode, and if you submitted, they’ll show up in one way or another too, some having to do more with the plot than others.

So there were a TON of submissions and only FOUR of them could become intracodes (since intras are ridiculously rare and powerful and all). The REST are either basecodes, outcodes, or outliers, and they’ll all show up in one way or another as interactable characters later on.

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Due to lore secrets, I can’t tell you what your characters will be and what they’ll do. Instead, you’ll know the code type, code role, status, alignment, and power level of each. (Keeping the creators secret for privacy reasons~)

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IF YOU SUBMITTED A CHARACTER, PLEASE please PLEASE keep the following in mind:

((Your submission probably contains secrets to the character, either in backstory, traits, secret intentions, etc. The character belongs to both you and DC, and there may be some traits about your character that the audience doesn’t know. (say your character pretends to be a good guy but is secretly evil). When they show up, it’d be great for no spoilers on your end as well as mine. We’re both sharing a piece of canon here!))

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OK, so now some info before the submissions are released:

Your character is either a basecode, outcode, outlier, or intracode. (this is also in order from least to most powerful).

✦Basecode: Like SK or Cloud. Stuck in a void, their story has been discarded, and they are alone.

✦Outcode: They’ve escaped their void/been rescued, and are living in the wild land of the Interface. They are either living in an outcode community, leading an outcode community, or wandering the interface independently.

✦Outlier: Rare, powerful, and usually feared. Contain powers that outcodes can’t replicate and are often not accepted by the rest of the Interface.

✦Intracode: Gods of the Interface. Live in pain and extreme power. Nearly impossible to kill, and highly destructive and deadly if their power is not kept under control. There are 6 in existence including Digi.

Alright. Reveal time, are you ready?

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THE INTRACODES:

(Gods of the interface. Highly destructive and deadly.)

Name: Cancor Spiderwick Code type: Intracode Status: Hidden Alignment: True Neutral

Power level: 11/10

Name: Rollo Code type: Intracode Code Role: Outsider/Wanderer Status: Free Alignment: ???

Power level: 11/10

Name: Delta Code type: Intracode Code Role: N/A Status: Void-bound Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Power level: 11/10

Name: Millie Code type: Intracode Code Role: Outsider Status: Free Alignment: Chaotic good

Power level: 11/10

Clap it up for the intracodes 👏 👏 👏 We have two chaotic evils (including Digi) so it’ll be a fun ride ;w;

And for the other submissions~~

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BASECODES

(Trapped in their void. They are alone.)

Name: Angel Code type: Basecode Code Role: Isolated Status: Void-Bound Alignment: True Neutral

Power level: 5/10

Name: Ceryk Ardor Code type: Basecode Code Role: Isolated Status: Void-Bound Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Power level: 5/10

Name: Rox Code type: Basecode Code Role: Isolated Status: Void-Bound Alignment: True Neutral

Power level: 5/10

Name: Sophie Code type: Basecode Code Role: Isolated Status: Void-Bound Alignment: Neutral Good

Power level: 5/10

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OUTCODES

(Escaped their void, is living in the wild lands of the Interface.)

Name: Ara Code type: Outcode Code Role: Damage Control Status: Free/Famous Alignment: Chaotic good

Power level: 7/10

Name: Badru Code type: Outcode Code Role: Sector 1, Second in Command Status: Free/Famous Alignment: Chaotic good

Power level: 8/10

Name: Edgeblade Rainbow Code type: Outcode Code Role: Outsider Status: Hidden Alignment: (Is Chaotic Chaotic an alignment)

Power level: 6/10

Name: Emilia Code type: Outcode Code Role: Undercover Status: Hidden Alignment: Chaotic good

Power level: 6/10

Name: Ivan Code type: Outcode Code Role: Leader of Sector 3 Status: Free/Famous Alignment: Lawful Good

Power level: 7/10

Name: Jack Servini Code type: Outcode Code Role: Outsider Status: Hidden Alignment: True neutral

Power level: 6/10

Name: Kirai Code type: Outcode Code Role: Outsider/Wanderer Status: Hidden Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Power level: ???

Name: Liva Code type: Outcode Code Role: Sector 2, Second in Command Status: Free/Famous Alignment: Neutral Good

Power level: 8/10

Name: Luna Code type: Outcode Code Role: Exiled/Outsider Status: Hidden Alignment: Neutral Evil

Power level: ???

Name: Tank Code type: Outcode Code Role: Undercover Status: Free Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Power level: 6/10

Name: The Storyteller Code type: Outcode Code Role: N/A Status: Hidden Alignment: True Neutral

Power level: 10/10

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OUTLIERS

(Rare, powerful, feared. Usually not accepted by others.)

Name: Neri, Leandro Code type: Outliers Code Role: Assassins (Sector 2) Status: Free Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Power level: 9/10

Name: Storm Lycan Code type: Outlier Code Role: Leader of Sector 1 Status: Free Alignment: (Evil Evil should be an alignment)

Power level: 9/10

Name: Liam Code type: Outlier Code Role: Undercover Status: ??? Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Power level: (Varies from 5/10-10/10)

Name: Tacir Code type: Outlier Code Role: Outsider/Famous Status: Hidden Alignment: Neutral Good

Power level: 10/10

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OTHER

(Too lore heavy to reveal)

Name: Lyssa Code type: ??? Code Role: ??? Status: Free/??? Alignment: ???

Power level: ???

Name: Tao Lycaon Code type: ??? Code Role: Exiled/??? Status: Free/??? Alignment: Neutral evil

Power level: ???

Name: “The Sailor” Code type: ??? Code Role: Famous/??? Status: ??? Alignment: (Varies from Chaotic Good to Chaotic Evil)

Power level: ???

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WAIT DID YOU THINK WE’RE DONE!??!?! Nope time for questions for those who submitted.

Q/A:

✦What does the status mean for the character?:

Free = They can roam the interface as they please.

Hidden = They are running/hiding from someone/something.

Void-Bound = Accounts mostly for basecodes. They’re trapped in a void.

✦What does the code role mean for the character?:

Undercover = Likely spies/assassins. They are pretending to be something that they aren’t.

Exiled = They were banished from a community they were previously in.

Outsider = They are outside of the main communities of the Interface and live independently.

Wanderer = They don’t have a set home and travel/explore the Interface.

Isolated = Accounts mostly for basecodes. They are secluded from all and can’t escape.

Leader/Second command of [insert Sector] = Has a leadership position in Sector 1-3, all outcode communities.

Famous = They are of high power/influence, known by all.

N/A = None of the above/probably a secret honestly

✦How much is planned about my character?: It’s a little different for each, as some are more developed for the plot than others. But for the most part, all of them currently have a set DC backstory, morals, and role to play in the overall storyline. They’re all included and have relationships with the new main character and each other.

✦This is great and all, but when can I see my character?: I... I really don’t know yet!! There will be many comics following DC, all interactive and character-based. Your submission will be included in one way or another, either as a main character, antagonist, or side character. Those stories just aren’t planned out yet, but I promise your character is there.

✦Yeah, but how long will it take for me to see them in-comic?: That... Depends entirely on how long it takes to make the new comics and actually implement your character. It won’t be a matter of years, but there might have to be some patience involved with how long it takes to make these things.

✦Can my character die or kill other characters?: Yep! None of them are dead yet, but none of you have plot immunity. None. And some of you are all chaotic evil assassins, so just... Keep that in mind.

✦Can I still change my character/request changes?: Yes. If you’re truly unhappy with how your character looks right now or later on, please tell me and I’ll try to change things. They belong to both of us and you will always have a say in what happens to them.

✦Am I being credited?: Absolutely. Either in the credits at the end, description, and/or conversation with the next audience, you’ll be credited for your character all the way.

✦This looks cool, can I submit a character now?: Depends. Tell me your plans and I’ll see if I can fit them in. If not, you’ll have to accept no for an answer. I want to accept characters all the time because of how flexible DC is but there’s a lot of complications involved.

✦This is really long can I stop reading now?: YES. YOU READ THROUGH IT ALL. CONGRATS.

✦I made a submission but it isn’t on here...: WAIT WHAT???? If you made and sent a submission in which I gave you a response and it’s NOT on here, PLEASE tell me immediately through Tumblr/Discord DMs and I will drop everything to get them and apologize for 55 spam messages

I can’t stress to you enough how amazing this was or how brilliant you all are at character creation. Some of you have absolutely incredible ideas and made some golden characters, all of which seriously helped out DC and the cast for future comics. You’re all endlessly talented and it was an honor getting to work with you and add your ideas to this project!! Thank you for making this successful and giving it a chance. I’ll see you soon.

#make an intra #thank you.

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ihopuhopwehop · 4 years

Note

I like to see your take on one of this: we need more of this prompt

🔥Zutara 🌊

The Ember Island Players doing a play for the Fire Nation's Most Beloved Relationship, Firelord Zuko of the Fire Nation and Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, but the craze doubled when they didn't get together, or did they???

Basically, the whole Fire Nation and selected people from both the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes creating a system that could get them access to other fan works of the two.

Sokka started it. He lives for a good dose of chaos.

Hello! Thank you so much for being so patient with me as I finish finals! I took my last one yesterday and submitted a ten-page essay :D I am now done!! And as such, I just finished this! I hope you enjoy it!!

I present...

ZUTARA: A MUSICAL

THIS WEEKEND ONLY, FREE ADMISSION TO THE EMBER ISLAND PLAYERS RENDITION OF THE MOST THRILLING TALE OF ROYALTY AND ROMANCE, ZUTARA: THE MUSICAL. DOORS OPEN AT 7:30 PM. COMPLEMENTARY FIRE FLAKES WILL BE SERVED UPON ADMISSION.

Sokka had done a good thing today. Or rather an entertaining thing. He sold his sister out. That’s right, her and Firelord Zuko want to have a secret relationship behind his back while he’s out training warriors in the South Pole, then they’re gonna get what’s coming.

Really, if they had just told him themselves he would have been fine with it…eventually, but having them trust him enough to tell him would have helped him get over it a lot quicker BUT NO instead he found out through Uncle Iroh making an offhanded comment about their children being called steambabies and Sokka being understandably confused and Uncle Iroh nonchalantly mentioning that they were a couple now.

Sokka, at the time, had been so surprised that he spit out his bite of fried armadillo bear meat, which was unfortunate really because Fire Nation cuisine had so many new and delectable flavors. Uncle Iroh had looked alarmed when he realized Sokka had not been told yet, but Sokka really wasn’t paying attention to Iroh’s supposed to-be soothing parables as he figured that must have been why Katara had decided to stay in the Fire Nation this time around instead of coming back home with him. It must also be why Aang had been in a particularly foul mood the last few weeks.

Sokka was brought back to the present as the man at the booth handed him a plump bag of coins.

“Thanks for the tip kid, this play is sure to be a hit. So many people shipped them together already.”

Sokka inwardly blanched at that, knowing that must mean Katara and Zuko were out in public together a lot, but he pushed that thought aside to continue the conversation.

“No problem. Let me know how it goes. Oh and if you could send a script over to King Bumi of the Earth Kingdom, that’d be great. He’s always looking for romance novels to read.”

The greasy man looked at him like he was crazy to suggest sending a king this type of play but nodded his head none-the-less.

“Will do. —” The man paused, “Say, aren’t you Master Katara’s brother?”

Sokka smirked, “That I am. That I am, kind sir.” Sokka then realized he couldn’t let his sister know it was him who released the play, so he held up his boomerang and pointed it at the man’s head, “But you can’t tell her anything! She’d kill me if she knew I told.”

The man’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “So it’s true? Firelord Zuko and Master Katara of the Southern WaterTribe are dating?”

Sokka reeled at that, “No, no! Er, no, I mean, maybe? Who knows, only time will tell, bye now!”

And with that he turned on his heel, proud of his recovery of that conversation.

Katara stormed into Zuko’s meeting room the minute the last fire sage ambled out.

“What the spirits is this?” She asked as she slammed a flyer for ZUTARA:THE MUSICAL down on the large marble table.

Zuko raised an eyebrow as his eyes swept over the page. He was about to respond to her inquiry when she continued in her rage, “Did you tell someone?!?”

Zuko stepped back a space to put a little more distance between her anger and himself, “No of course not! Did you?”

She ran a hand through her dark curls, narrowly avoiding getting them caught in her braids, “Would I be this mad if I told? Of course, I didn’t tell! I haven’t even told Sokka yet!”

That was when Zuko remembered something that he knew would cause a problem from them. He sighed loudly and drug a hand down his face, “We need Uncle in here.” He turned to his assistant standing a few paces behind him in the corner, “Could you please tell my Uncle his presence is requested in the Peace Meeting Room?” As the assistant nodded and turned to leave, Zuko offered a kind ‘thank you’ and turned back to Katara.

“I think Iroh knows.”

Katara looked shocked but then composed herself, realizing it would have only been a matter of time before he knew since they were always working in close quarters anyway.

“What makes you think he knows?” She asked as she moved to sit down in a previously vacated seat.

Zuko didn’t answer for a minute and Katara realized he looked a little embarrassed. “What Zuko? Why would he know?”

“I believe he was having tea in the garden when we were watching the turtleducks last week. I hadn’t noticed he was there until he mentioned during our weekly tea time that sleeping by the pond may not be the safest thing to do, but he was glad I had a waterbender by my side to do it.”

Katara groaned, “Of course Iroh knows! He’s too smart not too!” Katara then paused as she remembered the day by the pond. Her and Zuko had gone to watch the turtleducks and fell asleep in each other’s arms. Then when they had woken up, her and Zuko chased each other around the pond, which ended up in her pushing him into the pond with his full Firelord Regala on. It was hilarious watching the turtleducks swim up to him as he pouted in the water.

She giggled a little as she thought of his face and noticed Zuko’s features soften in real time.

“We’ll figure it out Kat. Plus, he was bound to know sometime right? As long as he didn’t tell anyone else…”

“But who told! Do you think it was one of the guards? Or your assistant?”

“They’ve been instructed not to, I highly doubt they would disobey my orders on something like this.”

She raised an eyebrow, “’something like this’?” She questioned.

Zuko grimaced knowing he had said the wrong words, “Something that isn’t relevant to war, peace, or the outcome of humanity. Us dating isn’t a big deal unless we get engaged or the public finds out too soon.”

Katara pursed her lips, “Maybe not a big deal to you, but I had to turn down the Avatar. That’s bound to have some repercussions if people find out.”

Zuko shook his head, “You turned down Aang, our friend.”

Katara was starting to get angry, “Yeah, our friend, The Avatar, who thought it was his destiny to marry me! You don’t think Aang would have told just to get back at us do you? I don’t think he would but if he was hurt enough…” Katara trailed off worriedly.

“I highly doubt he had time to tell anyone. He went with Toph to the Western Air Temple to restore the architecture, he would have had his hands full with that.”

Katara nodded slightly thinking over who could have told, but the only people that had appeared to know were the palace workers, Iroh, and Aang.

Zuko sat down beside her, putting a hand over the one she had resting on the table. “We’ll figure it out Kat. For now let’s talk to Uncle and see if he knows anything.” Just as he leaned forward to give her a kiss, he noticed his Uncle shuffle through the large, oval doors. He pulled back and tried not to smirk at Katara’s disappointed face.

His Uncle chuckled, “Don’t stop on my account Nephew. I got an eyeful last week.”

Zuko scowled at him, “Uncle, tell me you didn’t tell anyone?”

His Uncle took on a guilty face causing Katara to bang her head on the table and Zuko to groan.

“Uncle!”

“It was an accident! I was having lunch with Master Katara’s brother upon his arrival yesterday, and he pulled it out of me! He is a master of persuasion that one.”

Katara chuckled, but then stopped as she realized this meant that Sokka knows. “Sokka knows? As in, he knows?!”

She stood up abruptly, “What did you tell him?!”

Uncle Iroh looked sheepish, “Er. That your children would be called steambabies.”

Katara gaped while Zuko flushed in embarrassment, “Uncle! You didn’t!”

“Ah. But I did. So sorry Zuko, but a friend of mine from the Northern Water Tribe sent me a scroll that a student of his had written about you and Lady Katara that mentioned the clever name. Apparently, many people are speculating on your relationship. Some even encourage it by writing.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, “What do you mean “encourage it by writing?”

His Uncle smiled, “I mean romance scrolls, nephew.”

Zuko banged his head on the table while Katara gasped slightly. “You mean people are writing stories about us! What kind of stories! How did they even know? I hope my dad hasn’t heard about this yet.”

“Ah, the soul of the world is always searching for new love. Especially when a good story, such as two royals come about. Adds dramatic effect.”

At this Zuko grabbed the previously forgotten flyer and slid it harshly towards his Uncle, “Did you have anything to do with this Uncle?”

His Uncle beamed, “No, but I wish I had. A musical! How creative!”

Katara and Zuko both groaned.

After a short pause of her and Zuko thinking, and Iroh requesting a pot of Jasmine tea, Katara spoke again, “We need to speak to Sokka.”

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Sokka strolled happily back up the steps of his sister’s boyfriend’s palace and was met with a guard and a servant.

“Master Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe, your presence is requested in Lady Katara’s living quarters.”

Sokka smirked, knowing he was about to tease his sister beyond belief. That, or freak out, depending on what she was doing with Zuko when he got there.

“Alright, is she, alone, by chance?”

The servant hesitated before answering, “I believe she is with Firelord Zuko and Royal Advisor and Dragon of the West, Iroh Sozin.”

Sokka furrowed his brows in confusion over Iroh being there but didn’t think much of it as he ascended the steps towards her bedroom.

He slammed both doors open as he strutted through the door, “Hello Princess Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, daughter of Chief Hakoda, sister of the handsome Master Sokka, friend of the Avatar, and girlfriend to—”

Katara interrupted his speech unfortunately, with Uncle Iroh watching in pleased amusement. “Alright we get it, you know. But did you tell anyone Sokka, because if you did, so help me…”

Before she could roll out any threat Sokka interrupted her, “Excuse me! If you had just told me yourself this wouldn’t have happened!”

Katara’s eyes narrowed as Zuko raised his brow in surprise, “What wouldn’t have happened Sokka?”

He stuttered, “Er- uh, I wouldn’t have choked on my armadillo bear meat?”

Iroh nodded sagely, remembering the night before.

“Sokka,” she said in warning, drawing out the last syllable of his name.

“Ok, alright fine! I implied you were dating but I didn’t confirm it! I left it up to the viewers discretion!”

Katara and Zuko both looked surprised and then turned to anger.

“Sokka! —” Zuko started.

“You did this?!” Katara finished punctuating her sentence with thrusting a paper at him.

He looked down at the paper to see a flyer for the musical, “Man, word travels fast here.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah word does travel fast here, and because of you people know that their nation’s leader is dating the daughter of the Southern Water Tribe! Do you know what this could do?! Other nations could be mad that they found out so callously, think that the Water Tribe will get more resources because of our relationship, or Agni, even be mad she’s not dating the Avatar! Why would you do this?!” Zuko asked raising his voice.

“Hey! If you guys had just told me from the beginning that you were dating, no one else would have had to know! Instead I find out because you are having steambabies!”

“I was planning to tell you when you got here, but Iroh beat me to it! And besides, we just wanted some privacy before everyone else found out! Is that so bad?” Katara asked, feeling guilty for not telling her family yet, but knowing she wouldn’t take back the last few weeks for anything.

“How long has this been going on?” Sokka asked angrily when he noticed Zuko reach out to touch Katara’s elbow. His eyes flashed between the two of them.

Katara hesitated while Zuko answered quietly, “about a month and a half.”

Sokka blanched, “Before I even left! What, you couldn’t even write me a letter Katara or or—explain why you didn’t come back with me?! I had to explain to the tribe that their princess was staying with the Firelord for some unknown reason! And not to mention Aang stopped by and was moody all week leaving everyone to believe something happened between you two, and I still had no idea why my sister wasn’t there with me.”

Sokka realized he wasn’t hurt because they wanted privacy, he was hurt that Katara had chosen not to tell him why she was abandoning their trip back home.

Sokka was pulled out of his head when Katara placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the reason I wasn’t going back yet. I just wanted some time alone to sort things out with Zuko and figure out the best way to tell you and the tribe I was dating the Firelord. Can you forgive me?”

Sokka thought about it for a second before nodding petulantly.

Katara quirked a smile, “Good. Because I need you to meet my boyfriend.” Katara was now smirking and Zuko was beaming at her.

Sokka gagged, “Gross! Don’t go all googly-eyed in front of me Sparky!”

Katara laughed, “Then you’re really not going to like this!” Katara let go of his shoulder and crossed the room to kiss Zuko passionately with Sokka gaping and Uncle Iroh chuckling.

“Eww! Oogies! Stop, stop! You just told me, ease me into the affection won’t you!” Sokka covered his eyes and only looked up when he heard Katara laughing and Zuko turning red from embarrassment.

“Like you and Suki don’t kiss all the time!” Katara waggled her eyebrows as Iroh stood up.

“Ah, young love. Lovely to be but hard to see.” He said as he ambled out the door with a short wave to them all.

They all burst out laughing at his odd parable and then continued chatting into the night, including Katara explaining what happened between her and Aang and Sokka giving Zuko a warning not to hurt his sister.

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A servant walked up to the throne of Earth King Bumi and bowed as he bestowed a scroll to him.

Bumi quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected mail and snatched it out of his friends’ hand.

His eyes widened in joy as he read the title of ZUTARA: A MUSICAL. His hooting laugh and a few snorts echoed throughout the room as he continued reading the dialogue between Master Katara and Firelord Zuko.

“Zu Li, send a copy of this dialogue to Piandao of the Fire Nation, Pakku of the Northern and Southern Water Tribe, and…Toph Beifong of the Beifong Family. They will be sure to enjoy this script.” He continued snorting as the servant made to take and copy the scroll.

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Master Piandao was not surprised to learn that his former pupil and current Firelord, Zuko, was dating Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Before the final battle of the war, they had seemed very close to each other. He was only surprised it took them this long to figure everything out. None-the-less, he thought it a good idea to stop by the play, especially since Ember Island was not far from his vacation home. He could use a good vacation and a play to lighten his spirits.

He packed up his carry-on, including a sword gifted to him by Sokka, created by his metal bending friend, and boarded a faery across the way.

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Mater Pakku of the Northern and Southern Water Tribe scanned the scroll King Bumi had sent him, wondering why on earth the crazy king would choose to send a play about his granddaughter dating the Firelord to him. Was this a hint? He thought. Did King Bumi know something he didn’t?

There was only one way to find out.

Attend the Musical that would be played in two days’ time. Hopefully the fire nation will be able to clear a few things up for him. He packed up his things, kissed Kanna goodbye, saying he had business to attend to in the Fire Nation, and readied the ship that would take him to Ember Island. He decided not to tell Kanna about her granddaughter’s happenings unless something was actually happening.

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Aang brought a scroll that had been delivered to the Western Air Temple for Toph, over to her handmade earth house and walked in without knocking.

“Toph! You have a letter!” He called as he moved into the house and rummaged through her cabinets for some fresh fruit.

“Twinkle Toes, we’ve been over this, I’m blind! You’re going to have to read it to me.” Toph said as she moved into the kitchen to sit at the table across from where Aang had sat to eat her food.

Aang sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, “Right. Sorry. Um, okay…” He went to unroll the scroll and promptly frowned at what he saw. ZUATARA: THE MUSICAL? Had Katara and Zuko already announced they were dating? He knew they were but they had said they would give him a warning before they told everyone so that he would be prepared for the questions about his and Katara’s own failed relationship.

“What is it?” Toph asked curiously as she noticed Aang heartbeat pick up.

“Um.” He had yet to tell Toph that Katara and Zuko were dating and he wasn’t sure it was his place to do so. But if they can publish a play about it, surely he could tell Toph.

“King Bumi sent a script of a play. Um, a musical to be exact.”

Toph’s face brightened, “Really! What is it this time!? He sent me a few leaflets a few weeks ago, I’ve been waiting for more!” [pretend that braille is a thing back then and that king bumi normally sends her stories made with earth that has braille on it :)]

Aang scratched the back of his head again, “Zutara.” He mumbled quietly. He was surprised when Toph’s smile got even wider.

“No way! Did they finally get their crap together? Or is it just another romance scroll that ships them?”

Aang spluttered, “another romance scroll? You mean there’s more of Zuko and Katara?”

Toph schooled her features, “No. There is none of Zuko and Katara. Speaking of which, how are you and Katara doing, by the way?”

She noticed his heartbeat pick up again and wondered if that was a good or bad thing.

“We uh—well we broke up I guess? We were never really official, but I had assumed we would be together, but she rejected me several weeks ago because she said her and Zuko were dating…” He trailed off at Toph’s excited, “Alright!!”

He stared at her for a moment until she continued, “I mean. I’m sorry you and Sugar Queen didn’t work out Twinkle Toes, but really it’s for the best. No offence. Zuko and Katara have been dancing around their feelings for each other for ages and then when he took that bolt of lightening for her, I just knew they would be together! But anyways, how are you handling this?”

“I mean, I’m okay now. It was hard at first because it was so unexpected but then they said they would wait to tell everyone so I could have some time to get myself together. Guess that only meant a few weeks though if they are okay with a musical being made about them.”

“No way, this has Snoozles written all over it. I bet he found out and wanted to mess with them.”

Aang hadn’t considered that Sokka did not know yet, but if he had found out, he was sure Sokka would do something to cause drama. There was a lull in the conversation as Toph and Aang both thought about what the musical meant.

“There’s only one way to find out if they’re telling people.”

Aang sighed, “We have to go, don’t we?”

Toph let out a decidedly more girly grunt then Aang had ever heard her make and she jumped up from the table, “Let’s go see a musical!!”

Aang smirked, “You’re blind Sifu Toph, you can’t see a musical.”

“Spirits, Aang, you can see, can’t you? So my point still stands! Maybe we’ll even get a seat on the ground floor so I can see!”

Aang shook his head while Toph ran back towards her room to begin packing. He was excited to be getting a short break but seeing a musical about how his forever girl chose someone else was not what he had in mind. Oh well, Toph would need someone to steer Appa.

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Uncle Iroh had bought 2 extra tickets for the musical. He had received letters from Piandao and Pakku stating they would be coming this weekend to catch the musical. He wrote back saying he secured a seat for them both, while ignoring Pakku’s questions about his nephew and Pakku’s granddaughter’s relationship. Pakku would find out soon enough.

He also secured enough bags of fireflakes to enjoy throughout the play, along with some ginseng tea for himself. Dinner and a show were Iroh’s cup of tea.

He noticed that Sokka had also secured two extra tickets, though Iroh was not sure whether it was for Toph and Aang or perhaps Suki and someone else. But he would find out soon enough.

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Katara’s POV:

Zuko and Katara had debated on whether or not they should go. If they went, they could play off the musical as a joke, but if they didn’t there would be no news to confirm it either. In the end, Sokka had convinced them to go so he could brag about his playwriting skills, even if Katara thought it was weird that her brother wrote a romance play about her.

Sokka had also warned her that Aang and Toph would be coming, which worried Katara, at least for Aang’s sake, but also upped their credibility if they decided to play it off as a funny musical with no truth to it.

None-the-less she was excited to have almost the whole gang together again, even if for something as stupid as a musical. Though, Katara thought it was a better reason to be together than because of a raging war.

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It was now the first showing of ZUTARA: A MUSICAL and Sokka was thriving.

He was an hour early to his written show and already half the auditorium was filled. He had also gone backstage to see how the Ember Island Players created costumes and such, and they had done spectacular, though Zuko’s scar was still on the wrong side. Sokka thought that added comedic effect so he left it be.

Just then someone punched him in the arm, making his spill his bag of fireflakes.

“Ow! Watch it— oh, its you.” He said to Toph petulantly.

Toph grinned, “Hello Snoozles. How’s the play coming?”

Sokka grinned, “It’s great the costumes are amazing! They left Zuko’s scar on the wrong side like before.”

Toph chuckled, “Classic. Now where’s Sugar Queen and Sparky?”

“Zuko’s coming with Iroh later and Katara went to the bathroom. She thought it’d be better for them to come separately.”

Toph raised her eyebrows, “Wait so they aren’t dating?”

“Shh!!” Sokka whispered, though no one was around their families seat since Zuko let them sit in a Royal Suite. He then leaned closer to Toph to continue their conversation, “They are dating but they don’t want to announce it yet. And anyways, where’s Aang? I thought he was coming?”

“He went to get some more fireflakes.”

Sokka pouted, “I wish I had fireflakes, but somebody just had to punch them out of my hand!”

Toph snickered, “Stop whining. You’re a guest to the FireLord, just order someone to get some more for you.”

Sokka looked aghast, “I’m not going to order them to do it, I’ll just ask Aang for some of his. We can share like old times.”

Toph smiled lightly, “Hopefully this play will end better than the other one.”

“If they kept my ending the same, it should.” Sokka assured.

Just then Katara, Aang, and Pakku walked in. Sokka was surprised to see his step-grandfather in the fire nation.

“Pakku?! What are you doing here?”

Sokka stood to greet him and noticed him eyeballing Katara and Aang chatting amicably in the doorway.

Pakku smiled slightly, “I came to see if the rumor about my granddaughter was true, though judging by her and Aang, I’d say they are not.”

Sokka replied after he hugged Pakku, “Oh no. They are, the people just don’t know it yet, so if you could keep it on the down low that’d be great.”

Pakku looked at Sokka like he was 400-foot-tall purple platypus-bear with pink horns and silver wings.

“What do you mean they’re true!?! Katara is dating Zuko, the FIRELORD!?” Pakku’s outrage was met with four people shushing him before Katara came over to explain.

“Pakku, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but we wanted to work everything out first and then tell the tribe. No body else knows besides those in this booth, so please don’t tell anyone else, not even Gran-Gran.”

Pakku opened his mouth to argue until Aang came up and hugged him. “Long time no see Master Pakku. How are things in the Poles?”

That was enough to distract Pakku for the moment, which Katara was thankful for.

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Zuko had on his casual FireLord Tunic, instead of the entire ensemble. Uncle Iroh had said casual wear would be fine for the night since it was not a peace meeting or something like it. It was just a night on the town.

Even so, Zuko kept fidgeting with the edge of his sleeves. He was so nervous. He didn’t want to make a mistake and accidently kiss Katara in front of everyone and he also didn’t know how the play would turn out. It was nerve-wracking, especially knowing Pakku and Piandao were also here to see the play about a rumored romance regarding himself.

He thought it really weird.

As he walked beside Uncle and Piandao into the Ember Island auditorium and up the steps to the royal suite, he couldn’t help but get more nervous as camera’s shuttered around them. [I don’t know if cameras were a thing back then but if LOK can have everything they did, surely some type of camera would have been invented, even if it’s a crappy one]

He made sure to stand tall and not look directly at them so he could avoid any unwanted questioning and when he made it into the suite, he sat in between Sokka and Uncle so that no one would suspect anything of his and Katara.

But it was so hard.

He really wanted to hold her hand or something, but with Pakku behind him and the possibility of someone seeing him, he didn’t risk it.

And it seemed Sokka was enjoying his torture because he kept throwing slick glances his way and then failing to suppress a smirk.

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Katara chewed on her lip as the lights finally went down. She was worried about Pakku threatening Zuko, about the play, and about what the public would say. She hoped they would accept them being together, but she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Especially because she was a waterbender from the South Pole.

Either way, she pushed these thoughts aside to focus on what Sokka called his “creative genius”.

His creative genius disappointed her as her character’s first song was about hope. She threw Sokka a hard glare as she noticed both him and Zuko trying to suppress their laughter. They weren’t very good at it, and when Toph starting laughing loudly, they too burst into uncontrollable laughter. She smacked both of them on the back of the head and then faced forward with her arms crossed. She thought she even heard Aang giggling and that just made it all worse.

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Several scenes later and now Katara was the one smirking. The play had Zuko’s character singing about teen angst and turtle ducks, which she found hilarious because only Zuko’s friends would know that the angsty Firelord truly adored turtle ducks.

Her, Sokka, and Aang all shared a look before glancing at Zuko and when his face shifted into a scowl, they couldn’t help but burst into raucous laughter, with Uncle Iroh, Piandao, and Toph joining in.

Zuko scowled even further.

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It seemed Sokka had based a lot of the story from real life events that were dramatized.

Instead of Aunt Wu predicting she’d marry a “powerful bender”, he changed it to a “powerful firebender” but then ended that scene with Aunt Wu being wrong about everything so Katara wasn’t sure why Sokka would even change it if he was just going to discredit Aunt Wu anyways.

He had Zuko save Katara from falling rocks, but instead of her real reply of “Okay, you can get off me now!” Sokka changed it to, “Oh Zuko! You have given me rock hard hope!” Causing everyone to groan and Katara to flick Sokka on the harm.

Instead of Zuko saying “I’m never happy”, Sokka changed it to “I’m only happy with Katara.” The actor for Zuko had added a dramatic hair flip after he said the line, which had Katara giggling.

At one point, Sokka had written Zuko singing a song with the phrase, “That’s rough buddy” after each character of Team Avatar revealed something that had happened before Zuko joined the group. Both Zuko and Sokka had shared a glance and a laugh when that happened, though Katara wasn’t sure what the significance was.

Really, the play was overly dramatic and ridiculous, but it was quite funny, especially if you knew what actually happened and knew Sokka changed it to be lighter than it actually was at the time. It helped Katara think back on those hard days without as much sadness as she normally had when she thought about them.

Nearing the end, Katara was thankful that Sokka had not included Zuko being struck with lightening from his own sister…Katara didn’t know if any of them could handle that, but especially not the members of the Fire Nation Royal Family.

The closing scene was very ambiguous, which Katara was grateful for. It would make playing it off as a joke much easier.

It ended much how the end of the war had, with Zuko and Aang speaking to the crowd and Suki, Sokka, Toph, and herself holding hands behind them while they finished their song about peace.

The final note ended and the entire theatre blew up in applause and whistles. Eventually, the audience stood up and continued their praise, with Sokka bowing theatrically even though no one knew he had written the play.

Katara politely clapped while she caught Zuko’s eye. He nodded his head at her and she smiled back at him.

As the group descended the stairs from the Royal Booth, they were surrounded by a large crowd of people asking questions. The main one being if Katara and Zuko were a couple. One person even asked if Toph and Aang were a couple, which had both of the young teens blushing furiously.

Zuko’s only comment was that the musical was very well written and he hoped that whoever the playwright was, they had more in store for the Ember Island players.

Katara said the play was dramatic and that the humor was a lot like her brother’s.

The group thought they were in the clear and headed towards the main doors…

until Uncle Iroh stopped Katara in front of the ostrich horses they rode on and very publicly asked her if she would be joining his nephew for dinner tonight, leaving everyone to groan and the reporters to swarm again.

THE END :)

also, thank you to @clarensjoy for teaching me how to do the “keep reading” thing lol it helped a lot.

#zutara #not canon compliant #ember island players #uncle iroh bc i love mr. tea man #make tea not war #atla #gaang #hehe #:)#thanks for the prompt

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p-and-p-admin · 4 years

Photo

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group. (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Oracle Obscured and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many readers will know you already and if they don’t I encourage them to look your works up including Teaching Miss Granger and How I learned to love teachers’ meetings

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Hmmm ... that’s kind of a weird answer for me. I wanted to choose a name that didn’t immediately indicate whether I was male or female. I’d noticed a certain freedom afforded to authors of indistinguishable gender. With no societal construct about the “nature” of the creator, the story stood on its own, without prejudice or conditioned expectations.

I brainstormed about six or seven names and then picked the one that appealed to me most. I’ve always felt drawn to the idea of oracles (those who see beyond). And I definitely felt obscured in that department. (Hell, at the time, my whole life felt obscured.)

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

I don’t know if I do. I guess if I had to pick, I’d say Hermione, as I have a tendency to be an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to work/studying. I like to be organized and plan things out. And I can be quite demanding and harsh with myself when I feel like I’m not measuring up to my own insane ideals.

But I took that openpsychometrics.org statistical quiz a while back, where you answer like a bazillion comparison questions (I did the longer version), and my highest HP match was Remus Lupin (83%). Yeah, I can see that.

Luna is my favorite character, but I don’t know if I identify with her more than anyone else.

Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general)

It used to be horror/suspense, but ... I don’t know ... I’m just not as into it anymore. Maybe it’s because the real world is horrifying enough without adding fictional monsters to the mix.

Now I mostly read classics.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

To Kill a Mockingbird.

At what age did you start writing?

Just writing stories in general? Maybe second grade. It wasn’t a passion or anything, just something I was pretty good at. I only really did it at school, though, not so much at home. I read A LOT growing up, so I naturally imagined that I might be an author one day. I tried to write a book when I was about 13 or 14, but less than one chapter in, I decided it was too hard. (I was NOT a Hermione growing up. Planning and perseverance were not my style.)

I took a massive break from thinking after high school (the smorgasbord of medications I was on didn’t like me using my brain too much, and my plans for college went out the window when my depression become unmanageable). I didn’t really start writing again until I was about twenty-seven. That was when I found fanfiction. I consider that when I really started writing.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I found fanfiction while looking for erotica. Needless to say I discovered the motherlode, and I was hooked. Over the years, I’d written bits and pieces of my own sexy scenarios (which is what you do when you grow up without the internet and you have to depend on your imagination for all your kink requirements), but I’d never really thought about taking someone else’s “story world” and using it as my setting. For a little over a year I read/devoured all the HP fanfiction I could, and then I realized I could take all the fantasies in my head and play them out with my favorite characters.

The first story I wrote was a funny/smutty Ginny/Draco thing, and it was HORRIBLE. The story and the sex were fine, but the writing was a nightmare. I submitted it to The Restricted Section, which was the only site I knew at the time, and they vetted their stories, so I had to get approved. They wrote me back saying it needed work and I should get a beta. So I went on the forum and found one (which was rather brave of me now that I think back). The person who helped me must’ve had the patience of a saint, because he/she(?) never said a damn thing about all the mistakes and shitty-ness. Suggestions and corrections were made, and I changed some of the pronouns to names so it wouldn’t sound so repetitive. The next time I submitted it, they accepted, and I got a decent response for a first-time writer (like three or four nice reviews). No one seemed to hate it, and the reviewers said the sex was hot, so I tried again, hoping to do better.

That’s when I wrote the first chapter of Teaching Miss Granger. It started out as just a oneshot. And it got a much better response. I wanted to write more, but I became extremely depressed and lethargic, and I didn’t really do anything for the next six or seven years. (I mean nothing. Unless you consider watching every episode of Law & Order CI and SVU ten times over to be an accomplishment.)

I came back to it years later, intending to add a few chapters to TMG where they have sex, but ... it just sort of evolved into the monster that it is. I worked on it pretty much every day for about a year. I’d never stuck with ANYTHING that long in my entire life.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I would say love or “the power of love” is probably my favorite theme. But that includes synonyms for love as well. (Like wholeness, which is the theme of Quartet.)

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

None. I like other fandoms, but I don’t write for them, and I don’t usually read their fanfiction.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

I’ve never really thought about changing cannon. I mean, I change it to suit my fictional purposes (like Snape lives etc.), but I wouldn’t want to change canon for real. The deaths in HP serve a purpose, and while I find many of those deaths heartbreaking, that’s kind of the point. Hatred is bleak and destructive, and good people don’t survive wars simply because they’re good; bad things happen to good people all the time. As for changing something about the individual characters, I can’t get behind that either. The reasons people do things are multifaceted and complex and they’re colored by a lifetime of experiences I will never know or understand, so I don’t feel I can really judge. I can’t say I understand all the choices I’ve made in my own life, and there’ve been plenty of times where I had no choice at all. I can’t hold others to more rigorous standards than I myself can meet. We all have our shortcomings. (And that’s cool. Without them, there would be no growth or diversity.)

Do I have a favorite piece of fanon? Hmmm ... probably Head Boy and Head girl rooming together or having private rooms.

Oh! And uniforms.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I used to listen to really quiet classical music while wearing headphones. Every little sound in the house distracts me, and I have to block it out. But lately I’ve just been running this old box fan that drowns out the noise.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Crap, I don’t know if I can choose. (Plus I feel like I’ve forgotten a lot of what I’ve read.)

My friend Desert Sea is my fav Hermione/Severus writer. Out of her stories, the ones I like best are In Their Hands and At the Headmaster’s Discretion.

After a brief search of my accounts, I’ll go with:

Do Not Go Gentle by senlinyu

Another Dream by dragoon811

The Last Twenty-Four Hours of Severus Snape by CryingCinderella

Pretty much everything by Aurette

Pet Project by Caeria

Post Tenebras, Lux by Loten

All the SS/HG stuff from snapeslittleblackbuttons

There’s a Teddy Radiator story that I like a lot, but I can’t remember the name of it. (Or what it’s about.) (Yes, very helpful, I know.)

And in a category all it’s own is Farmer Granger and the Most Glorious Cock by MyWitch. (Seriously, I read this like once a month and it makes me laugh every time.)

I read a lot of Drarry too. Drarry stories I love:

Everything by bixgrl1, but especially Balance Imperfect and In Evidence of Magical Theory

Everything by lq_traintracks (even the non-Drarry stuff). The writing is amazing.

I love all the advent stories by Saras_girl.

I like all the Drarry stories I’ve read by Faithwood.

I really like RZZMG’s writing. (No particular story or pairing.)

And I just rediscovered a story I found in 2007 (the first m/m fic I ever read). It’s a Snarry, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was excellent. Snape: the Home Fries Nazi by pir8fancier

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I enjoy a bit of both. My oneshots are all pantsed. TMG was totally pantsed. But Getting Personal and Quartet were both plotted and planned. For GP I did sort of a chapter by chapter synopsis before starting my rough draft, and for Q I went into even more detail—EVERYTHING was planned out ahead of time. The only thing that changed during the first draft was I ended up combining some of the chapters.

How does plotting affect my writing process compared to pantsing? It streamlines it. In a oneshot there’s not much to streamline; the basic story (or general idea) is all you really need. There’s not enough story to get muddled. But when I’m writing something longer, with multiple chapters, I find it’s better to know where the story is going. How deeply I go into that planning can vary. Sometimes there’s just a basic outline of the major plot points and then I fly by the seat of my pants from there. Sometimes I write out a very rough synopsis (sort of like a short and loose first draft) and then start writing as if it’s my second draft. Things inevitably get changed once I really start writing, so the planning isn’t set in stone by any means, but when I plan, the story goes in the general direction I intend without veering too far off course and there aren’t any plot holes. After I wrote TMG (with no planning) I saw that there was A LOT I could have cut or combined without affecting anything important. I learned a little more with each story I wrote, and when I got to Q, there was a lot of complicated ideas that I wanted to incorporate, and there were so many characters (and character arcs) going on that I had to plan extensively to make sure everything fit together. If I hadn’t worked it out ahead of time, it would’ve been like throwing a heap of puzzle pieces on the table but not being given a reference picture to know what it was I was working toward.

What is your writing genre of choice?

I have no idea. Plotty sex? Erotic dramady? Some of it is just straight up PWP, but I usually like to have something meaningful in there too.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Usually the answer is whatever I’ve most recently written, as it’s the most likely to represent my current “best.” In terms of writing, I’ll go with A Brush with Magic, but Quartet is probably my best storytelling. A lot went into that (symbolism, planning, obsessive re-writes) and it holds a good deal of personal meaning to me. So, I guess I’ll go with Q due to the time and effort involved.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

The unexpected always crops up (even with all my planning), and it’s the unexpected that makes the magic.

While I had many insights into my own nature while writing Quartet, in the end I think it taught me to trust/listen to myself more.

Later, however, it brought me a very different message. While writing it, I felt a lot of tension and anxiety; I wanted to “do it right” and present my story in the best light. But after some time away, I realized I’d been so worried because I felt as if that story represented me, as if it defined me. And the pressure of being judged worthy or unworthy had been eating me alive.

But I don’t feel that way anymore. Now it’s like I wrote all my stories in another lifetime. While they all might be a snapshot of a fraction of my mind, nothing I create ever says a damn thing about who or what I truly am. Since letting go of that, I’ve found a sense of freedom around writing. I still like to express things as clearly and beautifully as I can, but it’s more a celebration of words than a search for acceptance.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

Quartet was extremely personal to me when I wrote it, and in a lot of ways I think that made it easier to write. When I have to go strictly by imagination, I feel as if I’m missing some depth of understanding (like I’m getting the surface-level stuff, but missing the nuance). When I write from experience, it has an entirely different quality. Richer. More intimate. It’s work to write what I don’t know, but it’s easy to write the truth.

Posting, however, is an entirely different story. Other people don’t always want the truth, and if you feel like your story is an extension of you, it can hurt to have any part of it rejected.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

I think everything I’ve ever read or seen has influenced me. In terms of writing, I guess I’d say I’m inspired by beauty in all its forms. When I first started reading fanfiction, I just searched for the kinks I liked; it was all about the sex (with bonus points for having a decent plot). Then one day I read an extremely well-written PWP (I don’t remember what), and the way the author described the sex was so unlike anything I had ever read, it totally blew my mind. It was art. Exquisite art. And before that, I didn’t know sex could be art. That author didn’t just recount the characters’ actions, they painted a word masterpiece—they turned porn into poetry. THAT was what I wanted in my life. And I didn’t know it until that moment.

Books/authors that stick with me:

The Harry Potter series (obviously).

Shel Silverstein (Love the poetry, but The Giving Tree is one of my favorite books of all time.)

Dr. Seuss (Always.)

Judy Blume (I still have my copy of Are You There God it’s Me Margaret from when I was, like, 10. Tiger Eyes is my favorite of hers.)

R.L. Stine (I got hooked prior to the creation of the Goosebumps series, but I had EVERY Fear Street Book he wrote when I was in middle school.)

Weekend by Christopher Pike (This was the first YA thriller I ever read. *Sigh* memories. I still have my original copy, and I still read it every once in a while. The characters and plot are great.)

Stephen King (Carrie is my fav.)

Anne Rice (I’ve read all the vampire and witch books, but The Witching Hour is the only one I’ve read multiple times. Blackwood Farm is my next favorite.)

To Kill a Mockingbird

Charles Dickens (David Copperfield is my fav.)

Jane Austen (I can’t pick between Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility.)

Thomas Harris (Brilliant writing, and Hannibal might be one of the most intriguing anti-heros ever.)

Stieg Larsson (Another brilliant writer with a brilliant character.)

The Giver by Lois Lowry (I haven’t read the rest of the trilogy. And I haven’t seen the movie. I refuse to besmirch my childhood love with Hollywood’s interpretation.)

Bridge to Terabithia (This book devastated me as a child.)

Gillian Flynn (Sharp Objects is my fav.)

Liane Moriarty (I like all of her books, especially Big Little Lies. The way she plays with the timeline is masterful.)

Frank Herbert’s Dune. (I grew up on this. It’s my dad’s all-time favorite book. And, yes, we’re looking forward to the new movie.)

Margaret Atwood (The Handmaid’s Tale is horrifyingly wonderful. And Atwood herself is fascinating. Watch her Masterclass if you get the chance.)

Steinbeck’s East of Eden (This might be my second favorite book.)

The Lucifer Effect by Phillip Zimbardo (This isn’t fiction, but it was the first book that really affected the way I see the world.)

Eisler’s The Chalice and the Blade (Also not fiction. If you’re interested in the divine feminine and a more egalitarian society, this is the book for you.)

Loving What Is by Byron Katie (The only self-help book that’s ever actually helped me.)

Daphne Du Maurier (I love Rebecca, but she also has a story called “The Blue Lenses” that isn’t really intended to be scary, but it freaked me the fuck out.)

The Secret History by Donna Tartt (Gorgeous writing, and the plot left me seriously disturbed.)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey (Gah! I love this. The writing and the story and the characters and EVERYTHING!)

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (I Bradbury’s writing style, but the plot of F451 is pure horror for any book hoarder lover.)

The Lord of the Flies by William Golding (This might be my third favorite book ever. No, wait, I might like it better than East of Eden. I can’t choose!)

The Diary of Anne Frank (How in the hell could anyone read this and not be affected by it?)

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

No. This is my own private world, and I like it that way.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very. I write what I want to read. There are certain adjustments I make when I write for other people as opposed to what I do when writing strictly for myself, but nothing major. I refuse to write things I have no interest in, and I don’t write to make people happy. I write to please myself. (But it’s nice when what pleases me pleases others. It’s wonderful to share that connection.)

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I like hearing from my readers. I don’t have a lot of time to interact, but I like talking to my audience and listening to their insights. I try to reply to all the comments I get on AO3 (it’s just too hard on FFN). And when I have free time (which isn’t often) I check my FB groups to see what’s going on. To me, the interaction kind of completes the creative cycle; it helps me set the story free and allow it to be. It really belongs to the reader once I’ve published, and it’s nice to see the ripples creativity creates.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Unless it’s absolutely necessary, stop using the word “was.” Completely changed my writing.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

It doesn’t really happen that much, as I usually know where I’m going with my story, but there can be glitches between scenes or times when I can’t find the words for something (like ending a chapter). When that happens, I usually just leave it and come back later—I can’t force it if it won’t come.

If I really need to get it done for some reason, I read what I have over and over, adding a little bit more each time, trying out words that “sound right” and building what I need bit by bit. What I come up with isn’t always right or what I want, but at least I have something to work with. Sometimes seeing what’s wrong makes what you want more obvious.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Yeah, just about everything Sex, depression, anxiety, personal growth, likes/dislikes, insights, interests, philosophy, all my little neuroses. Every once in a while I’ll even include some dialogue from real life.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I’m juggling about five long stories right now (plus a couple oneshots). And I haven’t worked on any of them in ages. I don’t know what’s going on with me; I’m just not in the mood. I don’t want to say what they are, as I might never finish them. (Two are Drarry and three are Sevmione. One is a compilation of oneshots. Four of them are completely planned out and just need to be written. The unplanned Drarry was always just meant to be for myself and I doubt I’ll ever release it.)

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Yes. Enjoy the whole writing/creative process as much as possible. Try not to beat yourself up, and don’t try to force yourself to be better. You will naturally get better the more you write. Change is inevitable; allow it to happen. Read books about writing, and read good writers. Notice what brings you the most pleasure when you read and tap into that same pleasure when you write. Play with words and ideas just for fun. Watch and see what appears. There is no perfect.

If you’re writing about sex (because I get asked about that a lot), write what turns YOU on. Don’t try to be sexy. Don’t try to write what you think other people want to hear. Don’t worry about what other people think (at least in the first draft). If they don’t like it they can go read something else. But if YOU like it, it will shine through in your writing, and that will have a bigger impact on your reader than any activity you describe. Also, the physicality is only a fraction of the sexual experience. Don’t turn your sex scenes into a play-by-play. You’re not really writing about what the characters are doing so much as how what they’re doing affects them. It’s a personal experience, and the more personal you make it (the more honest and vulnerable you are as a writer) the more satisfying the story will be for your reader. Wise words! Thank-you so much for speaking with us today Oracle Obscured.

#snamione #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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enasallavellan · 4 years

Note

🌺 🌿🌲 for the OC ask, please. Any OC you want

anadafdsWooo! I’m getting to them!

I have a lot of other asks I’m going through, so don’t be worried if you don’t see yours. I’m trying to upload something every day, even if it’s a headcanon or musings, so I promise, I’m getting to everybody’s :)

Feel free to submit more asks about anything, I’m getting to them and they help a lot. I have no early idea what the crap was going on this past month, but I feel a bit more normal these days.

I’m not the most succinct of people, so read it below the cut!

🌿 What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

Enasal is big on physical touch. Hugs or a hand on an arm tend to be a go-to for her. She also attempts to make things for those she loves, especially when she’s learning new skills. When learning how to make tea, she tries to make a lavender-blend for Solas (before she knew he hated tea). However, she doesn’t like to give people gifts in person if she can help it. She worries that if the recipient doesn’t like it, her standing there waiting for a reaction might be awkward. So she leaves it in their room or office with a note.

As for how others are with her, a lot of her friends use physical touch as well - she craves it after so much of her life spent in near-isolation, and they know it. Bringing her food or inviting her to do things with you are big as well, even if it’s something as small as asking for her to sit with them or take a walk with someone.

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Jesus Christ, if she cried all her tears at once, Thedas would be underwater. She’s very typical of someone who is very empathetic, so tears are kind of what she does. Enasal will do literally whatever a friend asks her for if they need help. She can sometimes get in the way if she tries to help with complicated processes (like Blackall’s woodworking or Dorian's more delicate experiments) but she is luckily aware of this, and instead will offer moral support and run errands.

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

You all know the answer: she cries. She really is a person that tends to cry with any strong emotion - she gets so overwhelmed and crying is really the only way to flush it all our of her system. As for nightmares, she’s gotten somewhat used to them. If it’s a mild one, she just burritos herself in the blankets and goes back to sleep. If it’s enough to make her unable to go back to sleep, she’ll walk the battlements or stay in her room and read or work on any improvements to her room that she does (she has started painting on her bedroom walls but has conveniently forgotten to inform anyone.) She has very rare, very bad ones that are incredibly distressing and she can’t be alone. She has to be around people even if it means finding a spot around the guards to sit and read. The idea that there are other people around and watching is comforting to her.

As far as comfort items she doesn’t have any that have been discussed at length, but she does have them.

She has a set of small efigies for each of the elven gods. Her father made a set for both her and Shiral during their mother’s pregnancies. They generally stay in her room unless she leaves Skyhold.

The Adraste amulet Cullen gave to her before she went to the Fallow Mire is a particular favorite - she always has it on her.

Krem sews her a nug. It’s name is Sunshine and he lives beside the small altars she’s set up in her room. In her head, she jokes that Sunshine is a new god that rules over the others, but doesn’t dare tell the joke to anyone for fear it would get back to his sister.

As for being comforted, her favorites are Krem, Varric, and Cullen, depending on the issue. She doesn’t typically go to Solas unless it’s magic or elven related, though if she were to be asked why, she wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

She did get used to being alone, so handling things on her own is something she’s very used to doing, although not all her habits are healthy. She’ll typically hide to avoid anyone seeing her, and cry, scream, and rock or pace. She also bites her knuckles, although she is usually unaware that she is doing it. It’s a nervous habit mostly absent due to Shiral smearing bitter sap on Enasal’s fingers as a child to combat the habit. The taste stays on your tongue for the rest of the day.

Love ya’ll!

- Lacy

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originlist · 4 years

Text

@caimkairos сказал(а) и сказала и сказал и забыла, что у меня есть субмит...:

"Why... why will you not listen to me?" They are on the floor, in this dream. A Douman that has not yet become an Alter Ego- the Douman that this Douman was born from. Clutching at the robes of one they look at like he is a saint, perhaps even a god, stared at with such envy, such jealousy, such devotion. They are crying. "Humans- they will not protect you. They will always see what is beneath the surface, in your blood. Why will you not listen to me, Abe no Seimei?! They cannot always love you! Not... not like one like you could." One who even supplicating in this moment has the claws of a monster, yet cannot even be called youkai nor oni. Something unable to be understood. Something not even half human.

"Please. They will destroy you. I know they will! I have seen you fighting in countless wars, never thanked! Against oni and demons from western realms-" A chuckle from the body Ritsu inhabits in this dream. (Because he knows, yet sees the good where Douman can only see evil.) It only enrages the one on the floor further. "Why will you of all people not believe me?! Do you think you are the only one who can divine the future?!" They stand and slam him into the wall, startling several servants who turned the corner. ("Finally, the demon attacks Abe no Seimei, eyes full of bloodlust and hatred-") There is faint sound, but this dream is not concerned with them, for they do not matter, cannot matter. "Abe no Seimei?! Why do you chose humanity over your fellows?! Over ME?!"

They are crying, something Douman never does. "Seimei... please... this Douman hates you. Envies you. Lo-" But whatever response was given is unable to be heard, snatched away by the hand that reaches around the living Douman's mouth, blinds their eyes. (It's convenient that Alter Ego is in their second ascension, to tell the two apart easier. Dripping with blood and ink like something truly unholy, like a divine being brought forth only for wrath.)

“Shh. Forget his response. It didn't stop it from getting worse, hm? Did he ever listen?" They purr, and this memory is from another time. They stand in a field, burnt, alone, the wreckage of a home in front of them. "You will never surpass him. He will never choose you, silly thing. Something ugly as you, unable to ever give in to your desires unless pushed?" The shadow, the Alter Ego, moves, cradling their living self's horrified face. "Let me in. Submit, Bei."

Only when the one they hold reaches out, does Alter Ego see the other visitor within this dream. A master wearing robes they do not belong in, the robes of an onmyouji, the robes of Abe no Seimei. The features blur, but the way the field around them is alive and lush and green instead says it all. They toss their origin point, the Douman who was real and lived and did not only hate, to the ground. (Alter Ego looks hurt, looks worried, like they could cry, but they don't shed tears.) "They will turn on you too, my lord. Do not forget that." Then, into flames, they vanish.

They can’t control their voice, even if they try there’s no words that come out. The body they’re in listens to this plea with what is at most ‘awkward discomfort that can’t wait to find an excuse to vanish’. Ritsu watches like a third party and is held down to only wanting to do something (never really been good with people crying, it’s too contagious, always makes them fret). The body they’re in won’t move, though, no matter how much they want to reach out for the Douman that isn’t the one they know. The body’s still, watching Douman who looks at them like they shouldn’t.

(They know this isn’t ‘their’ Douman even before the one that is appears. The Alter Ego wouldn’t show emotion like this and maybe couldn’t, openly.)

Ritsu gains some control when Alter Ego appears and recognizes them. It feels like something is released, and they get their face back. They’re able to breathe properly without sharing the same space with another form. A step is taken towards both Doumans, hand raising to them, before Alter Ego casts aside the living and turns to Ritsu with something pained.

And then they vanish. Ritsu is left in a field in a place and time they don’t know, with someone who wishes they were another.

Ritsu would prefer not to take Seimei’s role. It feels improper, disrespectful somehow, or at the very least unhelpful. Not much they can do about that, though, when they’re here in his robes. They glance at their hands -- they’re theirs again, the familiar scars and short nails, and they assume their face isn’t anyone else’s. They speak quietly, half to themselves, as they approach where Bei Douman is shoving themselves up, regarding Ritsu warily. “I keep ending up in your dreams as a role I’m not qualified to play, huh? Give me a script next time, so I don’t disappoint.” Ritsu laughs under their breath, and at least this is in their own voice now.

It does make them strangely sad, though they know it isn’t their fault that they keep being asked to be something else if they want to help. Well, that’s the usual case for things lately. Every Crypter and Lostbelt wants Ritsu to be someone else, too. Maybe that’s just life.

“I’m not Seimei, as I’m, uh, sure you noticed. Sorry about that. My name’s Ritsu.” As they speak, they sit near the Douman on the ground, offer them a hand if they want to sit up. “I’m that other guy’s... friend.“ Put it like that, sure. Close enough to not be overly worrying or entirely inaccurate. “I can’t speak for Seimei.” That’s part of the problem here, that they’re a replacement for something they aren’t going to equal.

“But I got in a war that might be endless, and my Dou-kun is worried, too. I feel bad about that, y’know? But I can’t stop what I’m doing. It’s about protecting a future for humanity. And humanity sucks sometimes. I know you’re gonna say something like ‘they’re cruel, they don’t deserve the Seimei I love’. Maybe they don’t, but it’s not always ‘bout what people deserve.” Ritsu looks down, trailing their fingers through the grass at their feet. Maybe it was a kindness that it was returned to this, instead of staying at the time when it burned. Maybe it was intentional.

There’s a field here, with grasses that are short enough to sit in, because someone made it like that. Someone had to weed and plant and cut it. Maybe to use for farming later, graze their animals so they could provide. Maybe someone just wanted a field because they liked it. Either way, there’s a human kindness to it. That’s an act of love, as well, the choice to help a family or town.

There is that humanity as much as there is the humanity who burned this place in a future or past that was shown only for a moment, but that Ritsu isn’t foolish enough to ignore.

A bug meanders over a blade of grass. Ritsu taps the base of the blade and watches the bug take flight and disappear. “I know humanity can be cruel and harm each other, and can choose to hate things they don’t know. But it can also choose to be kind. I think that’s important. There’s a beauty in people choosing to be kind. When I meet someone while I’m traveling, they have the option to tell me I’m not welcome and the option to welcome and help me out. Usually, the latter happens. And that’s... it’s a mark of being loved, and humanity’s ability to love, that I think is worth protecting. I go to war and I fight so that there will be somebody who’s able to choose that, and someone else who will receive that kindness, and so the people I care about might get it in their future. Not just because I want to be appreciated or safe as an individual.”

Gerda never needed to let them in her home or give them food and her full faith. And back at the beginning, Drake never needed to drag them into her crew and make sure they were taken care of and given an example of how to challenge the impossible. Once when humanity was still around and Ritsu was younger, they met someone at a supermarket who took the time to teach them how to tell a ripe persimmon.

“If I get turned against, then I get turned against. I still wouldn’t regret protecting people. Plus, hm.” They turn to Bei with a smile. “It probably sounds kinda backhanded, but being worried about is a way to be loved, too, so when my Douman worries about me and wants to try and scare me off the battlefield, it’s still a thing that makes me feel cared about, and then I’m still determined to make a future that can welcome you guys with kindness, too. Maybe Seimei agrees with me, so he’ll go to war among people who won’t thank him, because he has people he cares about and who worry about him. To choose humanity in the hopes that humanity might be able to choose kindness and choose to welcome his friends.”

Is that too simplistic, or childish? Ritsu feels like the answer is probably, that it’s too naive to use ‘love’ so freely and their worldview will get them let down some day. But it’s also not proven wrong, really, and it’s enough to let them walk forward. “This is just a dream. But, still, if there’s a you that wakes up instead of vanishing here, I hope you don’t wake up feeling forgotten. Don’t worry, no matter what happens, you won’t be thrown away. There’s still a part of you left in the future, and I’ll never abandon that.”

For what that’s worth, anyways. It’s only a piece of the living Douman that remains, and in the hands of a stranger no less, but it’s still a piece with purpose and a place. They wave their hand against complaints that haven’t been voiced yet. “I know, I know, it’s a consolation prize. You want that from Seimei, and I’m not him and won’t ever be. But he has his reasons, I’m sure, and the humanity he chose can still welcome you, too, some day.”

#[WORD VOMITS FOR TWENTY YEARS] help #ic : ritsu #does ritsu know i love them so FUCKING MUCH #caimkairos #long post #mun writes #i could put this behind a readmore. i should. but i wont

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firelxdykatara · 4 years

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Hey, so I was wondering, how can we know if you’re ignoring an ask, haven’t gotten to it yet, or have forgotten about it and we should resend it like you once suggested? If you’re ignoring it for whatever reason how do we know not to resend it and pester you with it? Also are there any topics you’re uncomfortable getting asks about or are just sick of talking about so we know not to do that anymore? I know some people are sick of talking about discourse for example or find some things triggering

Honestly, unless the ask that was sent to me was hateful and vitriolic (I occasionally respond to anon hate, but sometimes I just don’t have the spoons for it, and I’ve gotten some truly disgusting and triggering asks before [like the ‘graphic depictions of what i wish would happen to you’ sort] that I deleted immediately because I didn’t want to subject my followers to having to see it), chances are good I’m not purposefully ignoring it.

The exception tends to be submissions, especially when it’s just links to posts--submissions are unwieldy and difficult to respond to because it’s hard to delineate between what was submitted and my response, and I don’t tend to appreciate being used like some kind of an attack dog to respond to someone else’s posts, especially if they’re particularly old (someone was sending me links to meta posts from like five years ago for a while, and I just kind of quietly ignored them). That said, I’ll usually check out the post in question and sometimes it’ll trigger my need to wordvomit, but I’m more likely to respond if it was sent as a regular ask rather than a submission cause I’m lazy and asks are easier.

As far as things I’m uncomfortable with or sick of--not really? At least not fandom-related--I don’t care to get into political discourse (you’ll notice I very rarely reblog politics on this blog), but just about anything fandom-related I don’t mind rehashing, and when I do I’ll make a post about it. (For example, I’m still getting people sending, usually via submission, bits of anti ironwood meta from RWBY and I’m just not interested in getting into it any longer, because that fandom in particular is allergic to nuance and I don’t believe any of it is being sent to me in good faith. In that case, though, I made a post about it. That’s the only example I can think of, though, of things I just don’t feel like talking about anymore.) In general, especially when it comes to things I’m salty about, I’m always willing to open those floodgates--but sometimes when I first get the asks I don’t have the energy to dive in at that moment, and then time passes and I forget to go back for it.

In any event, if it’s been more than a day or two since an ask was sent to me and the asker is still hoping for an answer, please do send it again! Seeing it pop up again in my inbox will remind me that I got this ask before, and let me know that someone is still waiting around looking for an answer (there are some asks I keep wanting to go back to but then I’m like ‘this was sent anonymously they probably aren’t even looking at my blog anymore’), and when I get doubles like that I do try to respond! I won’t feel pestered, unless (and this has happened before) you send the same as like five times in as many hours, at which point I feel like I’m being trolled and am more likely to ignore the ask just for spite.

Some asks take me longer to get to than others because I have a lot of Words to say, and sometimes I wind up getting halfway through a response and then save it as a draft so I don’t lose it and then kind of forget its there, so getting the ask again would remind me to finish it!

EDIT: Oh, something I forgot to mention--sometimes I get really lovely messages, and sometimes I respond to anon or off-anon love but sometimes I leave it in my inbox because I like having something nice to look at without having to dig through my asked tag for it, and it gives me the warm fuzzies inside. Please know that if you’ve ever sent me a nice message, even if I didn’t publicly respond to it, I saw it and it probably made me cry with happy feelings, and I love you for it <3333

#asked #in general im happy to answer most anything fandom related!#of course this means that if there are things i don't wanna talk about i haven't been asked about them yet so idk #do know that if it ever comes up i'll make a post about it though #Anonymous

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mutantsrisingrpg · 4 years

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Congratulations ALEJANDRO! You’ve been accepted as PLANET X with a FC change to SANTIAGO CABRERA.

Alejandro, your application literally left me speechless. Seriously, I truly don’t know what to say other than this is everything I could have hoped for and more (like, a whole lot more) in an application for Andreas. There was genuinely a moment where I was bouncing between all the parts of the biography, wondering where it all connected, only to read the end and just have my jaw drop. Every sentence of this application oozed with such confident characterization of Andreas in the best way possible. I seriously can’t wait to see him destroy me and the rest of our mutants on the dash!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: Alejandro

PRONOUNS: He + Him

AGE: 27.

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST. I’ll be most often available during weekends, given the hectic nature of my profession + studies, with occasional popping up during week days.

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Andreas Guzmán, aka PLANET X.

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis man, he + him.

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

He wants you to see him as aimless. He wants you to see him as erratic. Uncertain as the X within an unsolvable equation. It makes it harder to see him coming that way, and it’s always far more damaging if you don’t know from which direction he will strike. A chaotic, whimsical, elusive figure in Miami’s mutant underworld, he sees the advent of the Chicago gangs as an affront but also an opportunity, an influx of new blood and interesting faces – new pieces within his chessboard, even, if he plays his odds right. If he is not seen coming.

The truth is, Guzmán’s power resides in how little it is known of him and his true intentions. Much like the planet he named himself after, Nibiru, he’s closer to a fiction than a fact, closer to mythos than reality, and he favors it this way; he has crafted a grandiose image of himself that goes beyond the confines of his birth name, beyond the confines of mortality, beyond the essence of man, because he needs to be more. Guzmán sees himself as a force of nature, as entropy, as a wildcard, an unpredictability that threatens any semblance of order or peace, and he will only reveal the reasons for his actions once the fruits of his labor have long ripened. He learned since he was very young that knowledge was a very powerful tool, and that just knowing more than everyone else wasn’t enough – he needed to control the very flow of information too.

So he is unknowable (as far as something can be unknowable) and he is unreachable (unless he deems it necessary to appear otherwise, and he often does), his mind fixated on the ever-changing, ever-morphing fabric of the world he’s living in, while he oversees the building of the next one. Building? Yes, he’s building a world after the death of this world, where he and his kind thrive as gods, and they’re given their rightful place: below him, but above all else.

BIO:

Content warnings: violence, murder.

OPTION ONE. A young man born to privilege and Texas oil royalty, with too much time in his hands and little in the way of scruples. His life already outlined well before he was born, a project molded with his father’s forethought, his mother’s aloofness, and a nonstop, near repulsive stream of cash. He was to become something great, just as those before him. He was to fit himself into the grand scheme of the Guzman family’s empire: a chief executive, a politician, a diplomat, a lobbyist, a lawyer, someone with authority and the charisma to move millions toward edge of the precipice, if so he happened to need them there. But there came one issue: much as they tried, the young man did not fit perfectly within this carefully constructed plan. While brilliant without compare, his brain was racked with maladies. He’d grown impulsive and hard throughout his upbringing, and worse still: enamored by celebrity, unwilling to listen, and prone to bursts of temper that rivalled his dad’s. It was during one of those heated arguments they liked to have that Andreas Guzman’s mutation blossomed: a passing comment and a venomous will transmuted to a tattered pulse and an itch on his father’s left arm. What is the likelihood of Edgardo Guzman spontaneously developing heart failure? Slim. He took care of himself. He was young. He had no genetic background that reasonably explained this development. And yet, it happened, a freak accident, a tragedy the likes of which you only see in movies. Edgardo died in front of Andreas, and while there was no possible way to pin the death to him, Andreas was convinced he’d played a role. He only later came to learn how.

OPTION TWO. A talent for numbers. Unbridled curiosity. And a knack for finding the most efficient solution even if it wasn’t the standard solution – those were the ingredients that made Andreas. A professor of Math 55’s course with a textbook middle class past, he came into the profession wholly on the desire to understand his gift and the world and pass his knowledge onto others. And as for the gift itself: he seldom used it, fearing its unforeseeable outcomes, anxious about its untapped potential, which was so much greater than anything he knew and so destructive because of it. Others weren’t so careful, however: when his mutant status was revealed and his exact mutation was discovered through an undisclosed examination of the university’s faculty, he was “persuaded” into accepting a job within Intelligence. Reluctantly, he gave in, hoping to be of service. You see, back then, he was innocent, an optimist with unshakeable faith, as all good mathematicians are, and it was only after years of deadening work as an Special Analyst, and years of exploitation by the emotionless, relentless hands of the State that the Andreas you know was born. This Andreas that granted the United States of America many a victory overseas simply by tipping the scales in their favor. This Andrea that fell ships, killed spies, manipulated foreign policies – all within the comfort of the little box they’d built for him. That Andreas – well, one fateful night, he ended up disappearing from the face of the Earth. Changed his name (he wasn’t born Andreas, of course he wasn’t) and bits of his face and killed his old life and resurfaced years later with fire in his eyes and one simple goal: Chaos. Turmoil. To strike fear in the hearts of those that had previously filled him with it.

OPTION THREE. A career criminal and kingpin, he was born in the slums of Venezuela to Chilean immigrants and had little choice in the matter of his fate. The streets were his teachers, the lessons hitting in a flurry between ages eight and nineteen; first lesson: lying; second lesson: theft; third lesson: robbery; fourth lesson: assault; fifth lesson: murder. He graduated with honors at the top of his class, and he had a talent for leadership that made other kids want to follow him. The boy was just lucky, almost supernaturally so, managing to survive more than one ambush and hit, making him evade prison more than once. Well before knowing about his mutation, he’d been using it, pushing its limits. It wrapped him up in myth, made his subordinates think he had some kind of pact with the devil or dabbled in witchcraft, and it was just as well because it made them develop near-blind trust in him. Over the years he upsized his operation, made it encompass whole regions of Central and South America – by this point, he sought mostly other mutants, giving them food, shelter, safety and dreams to chase after right by his side. He called this horizontal organization El Panteón (The Pantheon), and named himself its central figure. Together, they put small and medium-sized governments at their heel and switched policies in their favor – or simply murdered the dignitaries publicly if they did not cooperate. And in neither case it was enough for Guzmán. These bloody endings were still only the beginning. Eventually, at the age of thirty three, he settled in America – Miami, to be precise, with plans to expand The Pantheon to this untapped territory and bring about the next step of his plan. By the age of 39, the Pantheon had a foothold in Miami.

OPTION FOUR. The reincarnation of an elder being. Sounds crazy, but Guzmán honestly believes it to be true. The whole background of it came in the shape of dreams during his youth at an orphanage. What else could explain his predicament? What could explain the migraines? The premonitions? The ability to change what seemed unchangeable? In his teenage years he took to books of mythology, history, cosmology, mathematics, theology, conspiracy. Things none of his teachers, all nuns, would approve of if they knew. He learned about the presumed origins of mutations, about aliens, about ancient races and old forgotten gods that were very different to the God he was familiar with, that didn’t make sense to him. And he came to the conclusion that he was one of them. That mutants, as a whole, were, but they’d forgotten; their history had been taken from them. And just like that, at the age of seventeen, the malignant seed within his brain had been planted. Every action to be taken afterwards was just the means to his end as the truth’s very emissary.

THE ANSWER. None of these options are true. All of these options are true. To what extent? That is the actual question, and the answer is that Guzman won’t tell you. He will tell you, but only the false parts. He will tell you, but only if it’s a mix of falsehood and truth. Unreliable without compare, and with an ambition sharp enough to cut through diamond, Guzman will stop at nothing to see his vision materialized. The only things you can have for certain is that he’s charming, playful, hungry, and unable to see a scenario where he does not come out on top.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

RICHARD MALLORY.

When I think of Guzman and Richard, I think of the Nibiru cataclysm. If Guzman is Planet X and Richard is the Earth, it only makes sense to imagine a catastrophic collision between them sometime in the near future. To Guzman, Richard represents the status quo that he so abhors, a system that pretends to patch up a bullet hole with a Band-Aid and act as though it’s enough. Richard stands in the way of the destruction Guzman craves, and it just so happens that right now they have a similar objective, but for different reasons, so Guzman is willing to entertain a begrudging partnership.

On the character level, I see them as foils of one another. They’re both highly intelligent and even idealistic men (if you’re willing to accept that Guzman is idealistic, and not utterly nihilistic), but where Richard desires cohabitation (“peace, unity, amicability”), Guzman wants radical, violent change, and it’s simply not compatible with what Richard wants for Miami or mutantkind in general.

HANA MERCADO.

Hana is one of the mutants Guzman has kept tabs on for a little over a year now. In her, he sees ample potential. He sees power. He sees confidence. He sees someone worthy of the new world. He has employed her in the past for several of The Pantheon’s exploits, and he has been respectful of Hana’s wishes to remain an independent force. They’ve managed a friendly relationship out if it. However, with the arrival of the new gangs, Miami’s landscape is rapidly changing, and he knows it’s time for her make a choice. After all, the alternative to joining forces with him is to let the newcomers seize control of their city.

EXTRA:

ON THE TOPIC OF:

HIS NAME: Much speculation has been given to whether Andreas Guzman was born Andreas Guzman or not, and he’s not about to tell you the answer. But he, in fact, prefers if you would call him X, since that is how he’s known by much of the underworld in Florida. Friends and family and enemies call him Guzman. Nobody calls him Andreas, unless they want to displease him.

THE PANTHEON: Guzman’s organization, comprised entirely of mutants at this point in time. As it was mentioned above, unlike a pyramidal structure where Guzman reigns on top, it’s more of a flat, loose entity, closer to a cartel. He’s still in charge, but outside of his direct orders, it acts mostly independently under the direction of several sub bosses. It wields its most influence in South America and Mexico, with a centralized focus in Florida right now. Allegedly responsible for an outrageous number of assassinations, arsons, and massacres, they have been labeled as an anti-human, pro-mutant terrorist group by the FBI. It’s not widely known that Guzman is responsible for its inception and much of their work, and given his elusive nature, they don’t even know what he looks like.

HIS POWER: Guzman’s mutation is very powerful, yes, but it’s also incredibly difficult to work with and, if he’s not careful, it can be world-breaking. Years of trial and error have allowed him to hone his craft, but the carefulness still remains – it has to. It’s not just luck and likelihood, it’s also how they present themselves. Like a genie and its three wishes, he has to be precise about what he wants to occur, and plan for contingencies in case something gets out of control. On the other hand, it’s a very nifty tool for general mischief-making. He can let loose from time to time and probability meltdowns will take place: glass will shatter, tremors will shake the earth, and cars will crash. Sometimes they will happen without his input, this because the power has a direct connection with his mental status. It’s not pretty to be able to see the probabilities of everything and the millions of path you can possibly take. As such, on the worst days, he’s prone to nightmares, migraines, hallucinations, nosebleeds. He hides all this very well, but sometimes they can be debilitating. He self-medicates.

NARRATION: Guzman is an unreliable narrator. He’s plagued with delusions of grandeur, as a byproduct of his mutation, and many things he says will simply not be true. He knows how to lie. He knows what to say in order to get what he wants. But also, he genuinely believes things that have no grounding in reality. The idea, ultimately, is a gradual revelation of the aspects and bits that are true for Guzman – whenever the interaction allows it.

RIGHT NOW: The most succinct way to put what Guzman does for a living is: he’s a crime boss. He pushes drugs and weapons in and out of America. He also makes money using his mutation (he’s won the lottery a few times, won multiple sports bets, card games with six figure pots – through frontmen, naturally). He uses this money to keep tight control of Miami and fund his many projects.

MISC: sangrelobo.tumblr.com | mockup blog for the man himself.

ANYTHING ELSE: faceclaim changed to Santiago Cabrera.

#accepted #accepted: planet x

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aelaer · 5 years

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Whumptober 20: Trembling

Guess who's back in this story.

This fills @stephenstrangebingo for "Curse" (and my first bingo on that card, finally).

If you want to get a feel for Narrator before diving into this, you can read his unpleasantness in #2: Explosion and #7: Isolation. It's not required to read those to understand this story, though.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of in particular, other than that the narrator delights in the suffering of others.

20. Trembling

Oh, you won't believe what happened— I mean it! You won't believe the gift I had dropped right in my lap just now. Sit still and listen for a second. I mean, time hardly matters here anyway, does it? So just— just listen. I need to share this with someone.

Now as you know, I get a lot of calls for favours and deals. It's what I do, what I look for, and it certainly keeps the place populated, which is the entire point of the business. Without a population, this whole dimension would eventually wither and fade, and where would that leave me? You get it.

Souls are what keep the realm going. While minor demons are useful, it is the souls from mortal planes that have power, though most mortals are completely oblivious to the vast amount of energy within their souls. And me, well, I have found that I have a taste for human souls. There's something about their capacity to be so good, only to fall to the most depraved acts imaginable that makes my metaphorical heart sing in joy.

Take the human I just met. He was rather bitter about being kicked out of his little group and wanted revenge on the leader. This is rather par for the course when it comes to those calling upon my dimension for some sort of task or power, so I let one of the grunts handle it.

The grunt came back and gave me the details and I nearly danced in joy. Gave the grunt a soul to play with; grunts that just know when I'm not needed and when I am needed are hard to come by, and I want him to know I appreciate it; can't have him being poached by some other entity.

So here I go up, putting on the shape the grunt was wearing for the job (which turned out to be more human-like than I usually go with, but that's fine), and to the human that reached out to us it doesn't look like anything's changed at all. For all he knows, he's talking to the same demon.

A quick review of the conversation so far later, I offer the summoner a sympathetic smile. "Tell me more about this Stephen Strange," I said, as if I didn't know anything about him. Play a bit dumb here and there, and humans grow much more comfortable around you, as if you're one of them. It's just adorable.

"He's an egotistical asshole," the summoner spat, "who has no business being the Sorcerer Supreme!"

I admit I had forgotten that they promoted him after that tiff with Nightmare (who's still the same moron he was five hundred Earth years ago, so you're not missing anything with him) and Strange had certainly proved himself capable enough. So for someone reaching out to me to help take down him?

Yeah, you see why I'm just so damn pleased.

Anyway, he went on with this and that, explaining that he didn't deserve to be kicked out of Kamar-Taj, that Strange was an idiot, et cetera, et cetera. You know how summoners can get. I let him rant for a few minutes until he finally stopped for a breath, and then I asked him, "What do you want to do?"

"Make him pay," the summoner replied.

I must say, I kept my calm quite impressively at his useless answer. No good at blowing up at a summoner before we seal a deal, after all. "What would you like in order to accomplish that?" I asked quite patiently.

The summoner paused a moment, and really, I don't quite understand how some of these summoners are ready to sell their souls without a concise idea of what they exactly want prepared. While vague requests such as "power" and "wealth" are incredibly convenient for me, sometimes something more planned out would be a nice change of pace.

He eventually answered, "He has this doctor friend who knew him from before that comes to the New York Sanctum to still see him from time to time. Once even went to Kamar-Taj. I don't know if they're sleeping together or what, but Strange definitely cares for her. I want her cursed. Take her soul to tear him apart."

I admit, I was impressed by his thinking. I was expecting the usual "powers to destroy him" or something of the sort— you know how it tends to go— but this was a creativity I could appreciate. Curses and soul-taking, however? Two different things. "I can take her with me. Call that the curse." Not her soul alone, naturally, but I didn't say that I'd take her soul. But you know how humans are: they hear what they want to hear. "Do you know her name?"

"Palmer. Doctor Christine Palmer," he confirmed.

I could have found it myself if need be, of course, but he certainly sped up the process. "I will take Doctor Christine Palmer from this world, and in return, your soul comes to me upon your death." I then offered my hand

He didn't even hesitate! He gripped my hand and said, "Deal," and that was that. Soul in the bag. And what a treat to secure it!

Oh, yeah, I've already done as he asked. How could I help myself? It was a simple task and I was already on the mortal plane— and I had a bit of fun in the process, too.

I located the woman quickly in her apartment and put on the guise of Doctor Strange before appearing before her. She jumped and frowned at my sudden appearance, but as she has no skills in sorcery, immediately believed me to be him. "Stephen!" she said with a frown. "I told you not to portal into my apartment! You need to knock unless I say otherwise."

"There's not much time," I said, and her frown turned into a look of confusion. "You're in danger. You need to come with me."

She was worried, of course, and asked me, "What? Stephen, what's happening?"

"We need to go," I said. "Come with me." I then offered her my hand to take. You see where this is going.

Of course she took my hand. Interestingly enough, the moment she took it she realized something was not right; I could see it in her expression. And she told me, "Your hand isn't trembling."

Whoops; my bad, right? But the hard part was already done; she gave me her hand. She tried to pull it away, of course, but, well, it was something of a pathetic struggle on her part. "Stephen, let me go."

I decided to let the guise from my face fall and said, "No, I don't think so," as I looked back at her.

It's been a long time since I've heard such a wonderfully terrified mortal scream. It's really made me consider that I should go out and take a few more summonings rather than having the grunts do all of them, or at least find some interesting fulfillments.

The woman? Oh, she's fine. I just have her sleeping. She's not really important in this, after all. She's only a prop for the real prize. And I left Strange enough hints that I expect he will be summoning me in no time at all.

————

Oh, here we go. And a summoning to force me to come in person rather than giving me the ability to send a grunt in my stead; well done, Strange. But I was coming prepared.

A bit of a pull, and I found myself within a very well-warded and power-containing summoning circle. They put up runes to attempt to force my true self, but I've been able to beat those for over a thousand years, now.

So instead of facing the form that I tend to wear in my dimension, Strange and four other sorcerers were faced with the visage of the woman who called herself The Ancient One. And the expression on their faces? Absolutely priceless.

The one I knew as Hamir spoke first. "Reveal your true form."

"I don't think I will," I said, giving the sorcerers a small smile. I ran a hand over my currently bald head; not personally a look I'd go for myself, but I suppose it added to her enigma.

The woman called Minoru tried to cast a spell to remove my form and oh, that was precious. The summoning circle contained my power, but within its bounds? Her spells were nothing.

"What is your name, demon?" asked Hamir.

"It is mine, for now," I said. Let them think they were dealing with a lesser demon for now; I was saving my reveal for later.

Strange, now, Strange was outright trembling in rage. An unexpected bonus; I was expecting something more stoic. "What do you want with Christine?" he asked, and I appreciated his candour. Straight to the point.

"I don't want anything with her," I answered. "Unfortunately for her, someone didn't like her all that much and cursed her soul to my realm."

"No," said the sorcerer named Wong. "Demons can only entrap souls within their realms that deliberately submit to their will. You cannot contain her soul."

"Ah, someone's done their homework," I said, but I admit I was delighted; it is so difficult to come across anything remotely challenging in my existence, and dealing with sorcerers that understood how it worked? What can I say; it was a breath of fresh air. "You are correct; her soul is not mine. But there are no rules against containing her living body within my realm until her soul sees fit to depart. Usually it's not worth the effort, but a curse is a curse." It really wasn't worth the effort; humans had to eat and drink all the time and it was just so much busy work. I'll stick to souls, thank you very much.

The newly minted Sorcerer Supreme was staring at me with narrowed eyes; the trembling had lessened, but it was there— oh, and especially in his hands. I see why the woman saw, or rather felt, the difference. "But this is not a curse in the usual sense of the term. You cannot curse physical bodies to other dimensions. Someone must have made a bargain with you."

Oh, what a true delight! Doctor Strange lived up to his growing reputation. "Quite so."

His eyes remained narrow. "I would bargain for her safe return to Earth." Beside him, Hamir stiffened in dismay.

I gave Strange a toothy grin, which, upon the face of the Ancient One, seemed to disturb the sorcerers gathered; that was amusing. "A small price of a soul would do it in a heartbeat."

Before he could answer, Wong immediately said, "Rejected. A mortal lifetime is not of the same value as a soul for an eternity."

Damn. Well, it was worth a shot. Strange, though, Strange was unable to hide his pain and anger at Wong's comment. Interesting.

"Can't blame me for trying," I said in turn. "Still, I am willing to bargain with you." I set my focus on Strange. "But bargain with you alone and in my own realm. Besides, you want to see your friend, yes?"

He did not answer immediately, and from what I could tell, they were communicating silently with each other. The summoning circle was strong enough that I could not intrude upon their thoughts, sadly, but I knew what the answer was going to be. Even if the other four sorcerers were against him, Strange was more than stubborn enough not to listen to them.

Eventually Strange answered, "I agree to bargain with you within your realm concerning Christine Palmer's safe return."

Carefully worded. Not an idiot. This was going to be fun. "Come with me," I said, offering my hand out.

Strange spared a last glance at the other sorcerers before walking towards me. Sadly he did not take my hand, but again, he knew what he was doing. I have to say I was just a bit giddy for the challenge.

I set my hand on his shoulder and said, "Cut the cord." I could feel Strange exhale under my hand, and with a gesture he extinguished all wards that forced me to the mortal plane. We were pulled through the multiverse together and the blink of an eye later, we were within my dimension.

I let the guise of the Ancient One fall from my visage and I grew in height and my skin reddened as I shifted into my chosen form for my home dimension. Strange was tense under my hand that had yet to leave his shoulder; he looked at his surroundings with a completely stoic expression, but I could feel the despair edging in. And he hadn't even looked at my shifting form yet.

Once I became me again, I finally introduced myself, like a proper host should. "I am Mephisto," I said, and I couldn't help but grin. "Welcome to Hell."

Quick question: Naturally this series isn’t done yet, but I haven’t decided if I want to continue in the Narrator’s (well, Mephisto’s) POV or if I should go back to my usual third person limited with Stephen. Any opinions?

Oh and Mephisto’s characterization is basically all inspired by the Damnation arc. I adore how he was written in that arc.

#whumptober2019 #no.20 #trembling #stephen strange #doctor strange #doctor strange fanfic #christine palmer #my writing #my fanfiction

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emily-barton · 5 years

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CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT SURVEY

Are they introverted or extroverted?

Emily is an extrovert, much to the surprise of most people. While she often prefers to stick to herself, the reality is that she is often at her best when she is interacting and playing off others. Spending too much time alone doesn’t recharge Emily, but rather makes her more anxious because she becomes too lost in her own thoughts.

What bad habits do they have?

Emily is very bad at remembering to take care of herself, particularly when it comes to her physical body. Years of disordered eating have ravaged her body, and requires much more attention in a way that makes Emily incredibly uncomfortable. However, she is doing her best at trying to be more regular with her meals and to listen to her body’s physical needs.

How do they display affection?

Emily shows her affection through gestures and acts of service. She loves the feeling of doing something to help someone she cares about, to make things a little easier on them in some way. She prefers when the attention is on the other, and not herself.

How do they want to be seen by others?

Emily has always had a need to look “right” in others’ eyes. Of course, that is relative, but the common theme is that Emily does not like to be embarrassed in any capacity, but particularly in public. She wants others to think that she’s capable and competent, regardless of her mark or her name or her age. She wants people to believe that she is someone they can’t ignore.

How do they see themselves?

Emily views herself as akin to a selfish little girl. She fully believes that she is a disappointment to all of the people who love her, and that eventually they will get tired of her mistakes. Emily often equates making a mistake or upsetting someone to being a failure as a submissive, and because of the very human flaws she has, that she is broken and useless. She very rarely believes as though she is enough, and that she is replaceable.

Strongest character trait?

Emily’s loyalty is by far her most entrenched trait. While she may not extend that loyalty to most people, she is a fierce advocate and defender of those who have it. She can sometimes be overzealous about it, more the type to lash out first and do damage control later, but she means well. She takes loyalty seriously and will decimate anyone who dares to hurt her loved ones.

Weakest character trait?

Emily’s weakest character trait is her tendency to believe the worst in herself. She internalizes many of the things that people say about her and her family, and has given an internal voice to the hatred that has been spewed at her over the years. Rather than believe that she might have had a truly altruistic reason for doing something, Emily is more apt to think that she must have done it to get a benefit out of it because that’s the kind of person people believe she is. After all, that many people couldn’t be wrong, right?

Do they make snap judgments or take time to consider?

Emily is definitely one for snap judgments though she has been trying to get better at them and let people speak. It’s a work in progress that occasionally gets derailed. While it’s unlikely that Emily will ever by a Buddhist monk who takes a week to make a decision, she does hope to eventually not try to fight as her first instinct and to be more thoughtful.

What is their greatest fear?

Emily’s greatest fear is that she is just as much of a disappointment and failure that her mother (and Sophia to an extent) have always made her feel like she is. That the people who love her are all lying to her out of pity, and that one day they’ll finally get tired of the charade.

What are their biggest secrets?

One of Emily’s biggest secrets is that she genuinely believes she is the odd one out among her sisters. Partially in terms of appearance as both Kat and Sophia have similar features, while Emily does not, and also as the middle sister, she often feels overlooked. Her political beliefs also set them apart, where she isn’t conservative enough for Sophia or liberal enough for Kat. For years, Emily has often considered herself the “Forgotten Barton” because of her attempts to assimilate, unlike Kat, but her lack of success, unlike Sophia.

How do they treat people better than them?

Better is subjective, but Emily rarely views people as her “better”. While she has a dismal view of herself, Emily doesn’t think that other people are that much better than herself, which is a very bleak way to see the world. Still, Emily treats most people with a cold aloofness that can give way to warmth or animosity, depending on how she feels about the person.

How do they treat people worse than them?

Again, worse is subjective, but Emily can admit that she probably doesn’t treat people in worse situations than her altogether well, though she doesn’t go out of her way to pile more problems on them. Generally, Emily tends to pretend they don’t exist unless they are literally in front of her. Rocking the boat has always been frowned upon, and most of the things that would help those worse off than her are things that would rock the boat in the eyes of her family.

Describe their best friend.

Emily’s best friend is Kat, full stop. Her younger sister is the most important person in the world to her, and she would sacrifice almost anything (the only thing she wouldn’t is Riss) to see her smile. They bicker and argue but the reality is that they only want to see the other happy and thriving. Emily knows that she can always count on Kat to tell things to her straight, even when she doesn’t want to hear it. She trusts her to be her beacon, to guide her back from the edge, and she hopes that Kat trusts her to do the same.

How do they respond to a threat?

Emily, despite what people think of her, is more of a fight than flight person. She will fight tooth and nail to protect those she cares about and her home. She would rather suffer harm and stand her ground rather than retreat like people expect out of her.

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?

To Emily, the worst that could happen is to lose your dignity. However a person describes that, she believes that the cruelest thing that can happen to someone is for them to be stripped of that, whether by other people, by regimes, or by pure circumstances. That is like taking away the last line of defense that a person has, and doing so is equivalent to breaking a person.

Where do they want to be in a week? A month? A year?

In one week, she hopes to feel better about her recent breakdown and the rehashing of traumas she has recently gone through. In one month, Emily would like to be further along the road to recovery and beginning to help Riss with her venture, as well as start planning their claiming ceremony. In one year, she hopes to officially be Riss’ submissive and have her catering business thriving, while also not having every day feel like a monumental struggle with respect to her recovery.

How do they act in public?

In the public eye, perception is everything. Emily knows the power and devastation that a single picture, video, recording, etc. can have, and she does her best to make sure she isn’t a victim of those. While Emily often pretends like she doesn’t care what people think about her, which comes off as abrasive, she actually tries to choose her words and reactions carefully to make sure others have as little ammunition against her as possible. The last thing she wants is to be viewed as weak.

How do they act in private/among close friends?

Emily is more willing to be vulnerable amongst those closest to her, even though she still struggles with that at times. She’s more open as well, more willing to share her thoughts on controversial topics and to share her actual opinions, rather than just the ones that people expect out of her.

How do they respond to compliments?

Emily generally pretends like she didn’t hear what the other person said. Compliments make her supremely uncomfortable because they were often used against her by her mother. Back-handed insults were common, and Emily has learned to associate positive feedback with cutting criticism, an instinct that she is attempting to unlearn,

What kind of qualities do they like in others?

By and large, Emily likes empathy and understanding in others. She doesn’t want to live her life feeling like she has to defend her existence. While she is aware of the massive amounts of privilege that she has, she has also been treated terribly based on rumors and snap judgments. She becomes much less bitchy when others show that they are willing to give her a chance rather than making assumptions based on her name.

Why is your character in New Eden?

The Bartons are synonymous with New Eden. Emily was born and raised in the city, and could not imagine living anywhere else.

Have they ever considered leaving the city? If so, why haven’t they?

No, Emily could never leave New Eden. Her most important people are in the city, and everything she knows. While she could be persuaded to leave under dire circumstances, New Eden will always be her home.

What would your character say about each mark if they knew it would never be revealed to anyone?

Dominants are in just as much need of training as any other mark, and anyone purporting to simply have a “natural Dominant instinct” is a fraud who should never be allowed to scene with anyone. Arrogance is unbecoming, and being marked as a Dominant does not make anyone her better.

Submissives need to understand that whatever the fuck gets their rocks off are a personal matter and they don’t get pass value judgments on others based on their kink. No one is “bad” or “wrong” for the way they view submission and there is no right way to submit.

Switches need to decide whether they’re ready to fight for themselves or not. The constant stop/start and violence of the Switch Rights movement does nothing other than alienate and frighten others, which is never going to do anything for them.

How does your character truly feel about their mark?

Emily is a proud submissive, and she is grateful for her mark. It gives her a structure and identity that allows her to feel settled. While there are things she would prefer to change, Emily is happy with how she was marked.

Do they think their mark fits them?

Yes, though people were surprised at first. Given Emily’s fiery personality, there were some who had initially speculated that she could be a Dominant, though her subservient nature quickly shone through. There was some speculation that she might be a Switch, rumors that were quickly silenced by the Barton matriarch. However, Emily likes to think that being a submissive fits her, and it doesn’t matter what others believe about her mark.

What would they do to improve the city?

Promote and expend resources on creating a strong media footprint and increasing transparency. Ensuring certain systems are in place to check that no one is able to take control with such little resistance.

How important is their mark to them?

Emily’s mark is incredibly important to her. Years of training have left her with the genuine belief that her worth depends on her ability to be a good submissive. While she’s moving away from that, she adores submitting and sees nothing wrong with it.

How important are other people’s marks to them?

Emily maintains her aloofness so generally the marks don’t matter if she treats everyone the same. She tries not to use marks to base snap judgments, though she has been known to say some unpleasant things about Switches in the past.

How did they feel when they first received their mark?

Emily was incredibly relieved. She had watched several people in similarly prominent families get disowned simply for being a Switch, and a vicious rumor persisted that asserted she would be a Switch. When that wasn’t the case, Emily was dumbfounded but didn’t bother to dispute the results.

#ne: task #netask004

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bigskydreaming · 5 years

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So it took interest rates that were like WE OWN UR SOUL NOW U FOOL HAHA TWILL BE OURS FOREVER, but joke’s on them lol like I never use that thing anyway. But I got the personal loan for $10K in the end after like a month of searching but who knew that obsessively raising my credit score for a year by like....occasionally chilling all night in an IHOP rather than use a credit card too much on a room would like....pay off with a credit score that actually is useful to me in a way that means I don’t even care right now that hahaha credit scores are just pointless imaginary numbers that really only exist because capitalism’s a dick?

Look I’m allowed to be a hypocrite for three weeks let me have this, I promise I’ll go back to ranting about people selling their souls for the sake of strings of binary code on a computer screen, like just cuz I wasn’t using mine doesn’t mean other ppl don’t want theirs.

Because oh yeah so I was like gimme the loan plz and they were like ugh fine and I somehow got my credit card companies to raise my limits because I’ve had them for over a year now and I honestly couldn’t even tell you how I convinced them to do that like did I haggle did I beg did I put out, who knows, it’s been a very long and strange and sleep deprived month and that’s on top of a long, strange, sleep-deprives two years. Point is between raising my limits on those two, the loan of DOOM and getting a CareCredit card with the remaining credit left to me or before the latter realized I’d just massively dinged my credit cuz the raised limits and loan hadn’t been reported yet, I came up with the $12400. Like again most of that is in the form of imaginary money that I’ll probably spend years paying out of future paychecks so if anyone wants to go ahead and put The Revolution on the books for like, say October, that would actually really work for me. I’d even be all pumped and full of rest and vigor and extra fightey and like, you know how fightey I usually am to begin with I’m just saying....

So now I am literally just waiting for my loan check to clear in my bank account cuz my doctor doesn’t accept checks. Second it does, probably Monday, I’ll go down to my doctors office, pay the $6200 upfront and finish the insurance paperwork for them to submit the claim for the insurance company’s part of it, and they can officially schedule my surgery, possibly in as little as three weeks??!!

Which is absolutely surreal to me, like after literal years of treading water and setbacks and everything dragging out endlessly and he’ll even just yesterday, it’s utterly bizarre finishing my stuff at my bank and doctor’s this morning and hearing how matter of fact they all are about how quickly things could happen now and like. Finally be over. Or like, start lol in the sense of holy shit I could actually maybe have an actual life again.

They can’t confirm a date until my first payment is processed, only then does she officially put me on the books at Cedar Sinai when they can get me into an open OR, but it hopefully could be the 20th. She’s already got another surgery scheduled for that day and an OR booked for it with potential slots before and after it but I can’t count on the 20th as a given just yet. Could still be one, two or even three weeks after that before they actually fit me in, so I’m trying not to set my thoughts and hopes too much on that three weeks from now appointment but that’s easier said than done. LOL.

But whenever it’s actually set for, I go in the day of, pay the second half of the payment, and the surgery takes a few hours but they send me home the same day. My high school friend from San Diego hopefully is going to be able to take enough time off to look out for me while I recover, we’ve been tentatively planning for that for most of a year but couldn’t guarantee anything with her work until we had actual dates which I mean we still don’t technically have. But my jaw will be wired shut for ten days so there’s no way I can manage on my own, esp the way I’ve been getting by day-to-day, and I’ll be on a liquid diet and having to drink everything through a special straw and stuff and completely unable to talk the whole time and oh yeah also apparently in agonizing pain that I’ve been extensively warned could put anything I’ve experienced thus far to shame, so I’m really REALLY looking forward to that part lol. Currently pondering the viability of just knocking myself unconscious every day. We’ll see how it goes.

But after that I go back in ten days later and they unwire my jaw, check that everything looks okay and I’m healing the way I’m supposed to, and I have two weeks of physical therapy and....that’s it. It’s over. I’m just. I’m just leaving that right there for now because I honestly don’t even know what to do with that thought after all this time, it’s. Like I can’t quite wrap my head around it and even really picture how that works. Idk my brain just fizzes out and it’s like wait, are you sure, that doesn’t sound right.

But like I made them go over it multiple times to make sure I wasn’t missing anything or understanding it wrong or whatever, like my doctor was this combination of kinda amused but also exasperated when I finally stopped asking to go over it all again. LOL look I just really really really needed to be sure there wasn’t something else involved that like I was supposed to already know or have been told by someone else, I don’t know okay? Anyone who’s been following me the last couple years knows that this isn’t how this sort of things go, they’re supposed to get my hopes up and then tell me they have no clue what’s wrong or send me off to someone else or tell me oh yeah you also need another thirty thousand and an MRI and some headgear that’s like made of platinum, but we just thought you already knew that. LOL.

But. I mean. Yeah. That’s it. I checked. A lot. Theoretically though unless there’s some new bizarre development in which case I will most likely detach my spirit from my body and evolve into my ultimate great rage power Digimon form, AreYouFreakingKiddingMeMon, and go like, fight god or the physical embodiment of the universe or whatever like I keep threatening....like, that really is what’s left. And then it’s all over. My jaw should by all accounts be restored to its full functionality from before all this. No more pain, no more eternal headache, no vertigo, blind-outs, no problems eating any particular food or swallowing or 45 degree slope to my lower jaw, none of the shit that’s been my day to day existence for well. Years. LOL.

Yeah. Really don’t know what to do with that yet. I just. Can’t. Haha.

Anyway, as I’ve said before, I literally couldn’t have made it to this point without the support of people here, both emotionally and financially. I hate to ask it because you’ve helped so much already, but I’m definitely going to have to ask for your help a little longer, there’s just no way around it. I am completely wiped and tbh overwhelmed so I’m probably going to try and sleep the rest of the day - I was pretty much up all night, unable to sleep while I waited to hear back on all this.

Then when my head’s fully processing things again and not friztzing our because I’ve forgotten how to process good news, lol, I’ll probably be putting together a post asking for your help paying my insurance premiums one last time, and on Monday or once I get the official set in stone date for my surgery I’ll be doing another, basically begging you guys to help keep me afloat the hopefully no more than three weeks til then.

I really really hate having to do that when I know you all have helped and given so much already, and it’ll literally be nothing more than my basic expenses of motel room and food, I don’t need anything beyond that, but I truly don’t see anyway around it. I exhausted every possible avenue available for me to try with my credit in order to get this loan and raise my limits enough, and I milked every cent I could out of those. There’s just no more money to be pulled out of any of that, it took everything I had to get what I needed for the surgery. And I’m afraid of the very real possibility that if I don’t ask for this help because of pride or because of how much I’ve asked for already, I’ll end up using one of my credit cards to pay for my room and such and end up stuck without enough money at hand to cover the second half payment on my day of surgery and I truly literally can not afford that. I have no idea what will happen with my insurance if I have to reschedule, how long it would take to reschedule, etc.

And the other side of this is there’s really not a whole lot left I can do for work at the moment. I’ve finished off all my existing projects except for one last cover and they already paid for it in advance. I honestly don’t know that I could take on new jobs if it ends up with my surgery on the 20th in just three weeks. Searching for more jobs and clients has become more and more time consuming these past months as is, and the simple truth is I couldn’t in good conscience or in honesty guarantee any new clients that I could finish their job in that time frame. Not with my present state physically and mentally and the uncertainty of my day to day expenses and stress about potential complications hanging over my head and not, truthfully, mixing all that well with my pre-existing mental health conditions lol. And yeah, if I can’t guarantee getting any new projects done in three weeks, I can’t afford to take them on for any potential client’s sake, not to mention the sake of my professional reputation, which I will really need to be, y’know, intact, in order to rebuild my life basically from the ground up, once my previous physicality and quality of life comes back after my surgery and recovery (knock on wood). With at least two or three weeks of recovery after the surgery even assuming it goes well and has no other complications, that’s way too much time to leave clients hanging and not be available to address any needs, concerns, revisions, etc. Especially if they’re not returning clients but brand new ones.

So yeah, as much as I would love to not have to ask for any more help than I already have and have been given, I sincerely just don’t see any alternatives that don’t jeopardize or risk wasting all the help I’ve already been given. You know I am fully aware of just how much that is and what its cost some of you, and I already could never repay you for this, not even in terms of just the money itself, but the fact that I know some of you have given at your own very real expense, sending me money that you really could have used yourself, that wasn’t any kind of surplus. I am already beyond grateful and humbled and overwhelmed how many of you have stepped forward to help me in ways that even though I’m older than many of you, I honestly have no precedent for, in ways and to an extent I’ve never received help or support from family. So I just needed to say that again, because I have not asked for any of this lightly, and I don’t now either. Really, really thank you. I’m not exaggerating or being dramatic or hyperbolic or silly for a change, when I say you guys most likely saved my life. Its simple fact. Hell, I was genuinely hours away from sleeping outside freezing my ass off in December, that first time I posted asking for help and you guys came through for me. So, yeah. I will never ever forget this, and never ever be able to give back as much as I’ve been given these past few months, though I will always do my best to pay it forward.

I’m going to go ahead and leave my paypal link here anyway, though I’ll be making those two additional posts tomorrow and next week, as I said. Aiming to keep them shorter than this, well, shorter than any of my posts, really, as shorter posts really just get more traction and I’ll need that. I can always link to the longer explanations of my situation for those wanting to know more.

Again, thank you all more than I can figure out how to put into words. I’m finally. Fuck. LOL. Sorry, I’m being very umm, sentimental over here but like its your fault I’m overwhelmed lol, like omg you guys, you can’t just throw love and affection and support at a guy with so much childhood traaaaaaaaauma, his brain doesn’t know how to handle it, look, you broke him. Are you happy? You broke his brain machine.

Okay cool, we’re back to inanity and obnoxious humor as an overcompensating self-defense mechanism, whew, everything’s normal, everyone can relax. LOL. Anyway, I’m gonna shut up now and go try and get some rest. Just know that I’m doing so feeling way more....hopeful? Optimistic? Faith-in-humanity-and-goodwill-and-community-ey? Than I have in years.

....the fact that I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now is called probably tells you all you need to know about me, huh? LMFAO God I’m so messed up lol. But whatever. Still alive and kicking. So. Y’know. There’s always that.

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

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butimnotasexyrussian · 5 years

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I know you. You’re a terrible person. But as the judge here, I will look at you in the unbiased way you don’t deserve.

Another one for @awaybacktothen! I have to admit, this one ran away from me but I hope you won’t mind.

Luisa brings home a pan of brownies one day. Rose has a terrible sweet tooth, and barely waits for Luisa to lay them down on the kitchen counter before she's popping one in her mouth.

Luisa scowls at her. "At least wait until I pour the milk."

"That's too long to wait," Rose whines, her mouth full. She swallows and makes a face. "They're not even that good."

Luisa gasps. "Rude! They were made with love."

Rose bleps her tongue a few times. "They taste like they were made with too much baking powder. Where'd you get them anyway?"

"The elementary school down the road was having a bake sale."

Rose snorts. "No wonder. Amateurs."

Luisa bites into a brownie. "They're not that bad. I'd like to see you do better."

"You know I always do my best when I'm under stress. You'll have to stir up some serious competition to taste the most amazing brownies ever."

Luisa just eats another brownie and hums in contemplation.

It's weeks later and Rose figures she's forgotten all about it when Luisa charges into the bathroom waving around a piece of paper.

"Look, Rose! Here's your chance!" And she rips open the shower curtain and shoves the piece of paper in Rose's face.

Rose yelps and seizes the curtain. "It's freezing!"

"This is important!"

"Can't it wait until I'm done showering?"

"No! You need to start preparing now if you're gonna win. Well, if you think you can win."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Luisa can tell that Rose has that stubborn set to her shoulders, even without being able to see her behind the curtain.

She leans against the sink and reads the flyer out loud. The county fair is coming up soon and they're calling all aspiring bakers to submit their best entries. First place wins supreme bragging rights (and $500, but that doesn't mean anything to Rose.)

"I'm just saying, here's your chance to prove yourself. I'm interested to see how good your brownies are. Unless, of course, it was all hype."

Rose sticks her head out of the shower, her expression thunderous. "Sign me up for that damn competition."

In the weeks leading up to the fair, Rose spends most of her time at the library, poring over cookbooks and averaging cooking times and reading up on the perfect ratio between cocoa powder and sugar.

"Babe," Luisa says one day, crossing her arms over the back of Rose's chair and pushing Rose's hair to the side so she can dot kisses over one shoulder and up her neck. "It's just a baking contest. It's not that serious."

"I have a reputation to uphold," Rose mutters, her eyes lined behind her glasses and her hair wild from the number of times she's run her fingers through it.

"Wouldn't it be more helpful to experiment in the kitchen? Find out what works and what doesn't? I don't think I've seen you bake a single thing in months."

"I know what I'm doing. If I know the theory, I can make the perfect recipe out of that. And then all I have to do is follow it. How hard can it be to follow directions?"

"If you say so," Luisa whispers before she sucks on the spot right below Rose's ear that she knows makes her swoon everytime.

It works. Rose turns to properly kiss her and things are just getting good when someone clears their throat loudly. When they look up, the librarian points at a sign that says No making out in the library.

Luisa nudges her with an elbow. "Let's go check out."

On the day of the competition, they arrive early to the fair. There's already a tent, Great British Bake-Off style, set up. Rose comes fully armed: her favorite whisk, a butane torch, and an apron that says Miami-Dade County Fair's Baking Champion 2019.

Luisa raises her eyebrows when she sees that. "Isn't that a little presumtuous?"

Rose twirls the butane torch around one hand like a baton, periodic spurts of flame bursting from the end. "A little confidence never hurt anyone."

The first time Rose's mask of cool composure cracks is when they announce the judges, one of whom happens to be Luisa.

When the clock starts, there's a flurry of activity and in the moment of chaos while everyone is distracted, Rose seizes her by the arm and pulls her through a flap in the tent into a secluded corner. "You're a judge? Isn't that against the rules to have a personal connection to one of the contestants?"

"Technically..." Luisa starts, drawing out the word. "But I put Petra's address as my primary residence. They have no way of finding out unless you cheat."

"Oh." Rose raises an eyebrow and slides her hand under Luisa's skirt up the back of her thigh. "Is that an option?"

"Miss Brennan, are you attempting to bribe a judge?"

"Of course not. This is just an...incentive."

"I know you. You’re a terrible person. But as the judge here, I will look at you in the unbiased way you don’t deserve." She gets on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Rose's nose and then ducks back inside, flouncing off to observe the other bakers.

Rose hones all her focus into her brownies. She measures out the exact amount of a pinch of salt, stirs counterclockwise for every four clockwise turns, maybe finds some time to subtly sabotage people she rules as threats to her goal.

And after all that effort, she nearly sets the goddamn tent ablaze when she only wins third place.

#roisa #prompts #ficlet

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thatgirlonstage · 6 years

Text

Aftershocks

When the butterfly flits away on bright white wings, it leaves no memories. There is only a vague impression of rage, a seemingly righteous fury that burned away all other awareness. Rarely, the sound of a man’s voice echoes in their ears like the memory of a dream, giving them a name, offering them a deal.

———

Ivan doesn’t talk much about it, the first or the second time. He’s never been talkative, and despite the burningly curious stares he knows they’re all giving him, he doesn’t want to answer their questions. He couldn’t tell them what they want, anyway. All he can recall is the anger, the blinding searing anger that left it impossible to think. He endures the stares and glares any questioners into silence. The attention subsides when, a week later, the second attack comes. Curiosity deflects onto the next victim, and then the one after that, and eventually he’s not really special anymore, just the first in a long line of people who get to see their worst selves loosed on the world.

———

Nino remembers bubbles. He remembers a feeling of weightlessness, as if his own will for rebellion buoyed him straight into the air. He walks through the park and sees children blowing bubbles – innocent bubbles, real bubbles, nothing but soap and water whispered into existence on an afternoon breeze – and he can’t help but stare. Rainbows shine faintly on their sides like false promises, before the wind carries them into the shadow of a tree, where they soundlessly pop. He dreams of opaque spheres that fall to earth and shatter open like glass snow globes, spilling human bones.

———

Alya rewatches the footage of it, over and over. Some of it she filmed and broadcast herself while trapped in her own vicious quest for the truth. Some of it was regular news cameras, and some amateur phone videos submitted to the blog. She edits it methodically, piecing the footage together piece by piece, setting it out simply, chronologically. She pauses on her own face, caught in a rictus of obsessive triumph as her fingers curl around the edge of a mask. She struggles to understand that face as her, and not some creature created wholesale from fluttering black wings. Behind the mask of the girl behind her, blue eyes are wide with fear.

———

Her brother got a play-by-play of every moment, published on a blog for the world to see. Alix has confusing fragments and contradictory accounts, which can’t seem to resolve themselves into a single narrative. Her brother feels compelled to study his transformation, buried in notes of his own attempted murder. She has a blurry photo of herself, doubled and altered, and no one who can explain how or why. She takes heart at the sight of a blur of red and black soaring across the city, but something sits uneasy in the pit of her stomach every time, imagination run wild gathering into a tight uncertainty. Her suspicions are more frightening than any truth could be.

———

They reclaim their worst selves together. It was harder when it was just Nathaniel, for months on end, scribbling fragmentary scenarios. But Marc gets it, in a way that most of them don’t seem to, and between them, they rewrite their lowest moments into heroism. They are not the puppets of someone else’s malice.

———

The miraculous cure works excellently on demolished buildings or broken watches or zombie armies. It works less well on hurt feelings. By the time Kim is himself again, the damage is done. He hears the gossip wandering around school. So sad, they broke up on Valentine’s Day, they had a big fight on Valentine’s Day, they’re going on a makeup date after Valentine’s Day. He ducks his head and hurries past and tries not to imagine accusing stares following him.

———

There weren’t very many horror movies in their house to begin with, but when she gets home Mylène quietly gathers them up and throws them all away. Nino sends her the final version of the footage, and she turns the sound off, pulls up the blind to let in as much sunlight as possible, turns on her lamp, and presses play. She stops when she finds herself and pauses the video, freezing the face into unmoving pixels. She doesn’t stare at it for long before she hits the x to close the window and drags the file into the trash. She texts Ivan later. He’s the only one who might understand. He’s the only other one who was turned into a literal monster.

———

Emotions were hard to talk about. Neither Max nor Markov were much good at it. How were you supposed to articulate the illogical, explain something you yourself did not fully recognize or understand beyond the fact that it felt bad? Their discussions are halting and awkward, and full of rephrasing, but in a way it’s reassuring. They don’t have to wax poetic, in fact it’s better not to. But they get it. They get each other. They get how foreign it felt to have rage and frustration and abandonment and failure throttle them until those feelings overpowered any rational thought.

———

Sabrina tries to bring it up only once, and when Chloe speaks right over her, requesting Sabrina fetch her red heels, she never says anything again. She can’t get that upset again, she thinks. As often as she still feels invisible, she can’t let it get the better of her, or she risks losing herself again, and that means she risks losing Chloe. She tamps down her anger and frustration and tells herself she’s happy.

———

Chloe doesn’t do self-reflection or regrets. She doesn’t have a problem, she doesn’t need to get over anything. She was right, anyway. And she doesn’t remember it. Well, except for one vaguely unsettling thing, but she’s sure that she was just confused, or that everyone felt the same. She can remember her last lucid thought before she gleefully gave into her rage. She just doesn’t understand why she would think I know that voice.

———

Juleka doesn’t understand the girl in the pictures. The ones her classmates took with her – those are perfect, they’re tacked up all over her desk, and they make her feel warm inside whenever she looks at them. But the ones of the other her, or rather, the many other hers. She doesn’t understand why feeling invisible led to that face. She doesn’t understand who this doppelgänger is. She can’t see herself reflected in there, bubblegum pink and dolled up like some kind of alternate universe Barbie. Quite ironically, she never wants to see another picture of that face ever again.

———

It wasn’t that bad, Rose thinks, compared to others who brought down the Eiffel Tower or mind-wiped half of Paris. She tried to marry Ali, which was weird, but it really wasn’t that bad. She really doesn’t want to compare herself to someone like Nino or Kim, it doesn’t seem fair. She shouldn’t be that upset about it. But when her grandmother sends her a perfume bottle for her birthday, she stares at it for a very long time before she throws it away, gently dropping it into a dumpster, careful not to let the bottle break and release its scent into the air.

———

“So how come you’re the lucky one?”

“Hmm?” Marinette responded absently, more focused on her sketchbook than Alya, trying to capture the shape of the jacket one of the bakery’s morning customers had been wearing before it blurred too much in her memory.

“How come you’re the only one who hasn’t been akumatized?” Alya was sprawled across Marinette’s couch, looking at her upside down, flipping through comments on the Ladyblog. “Everyone else in our class has. You’d think Hawk Moth has some kind of grudge against us. Everyone except you.”

Marinette, pulled out of her concentration by the mention of akumas, set her pencil down. “That’s not true! she protested. “A–Adrien hasn’t either! Not that Adrien ever would, of course, he’s far too nice and sweet and kind, not that that really protects you from Hawk Moth but still he—” Alya interrupted her by laughing.

“Chill, girl,” she said. “You’re right, I forgot about Adrien. There have been like four akuma attacks at his house, I was thinking about that. Alright, so you and Adrien. What makes you two the lucky duo?” Marinette went red and tried to hide her stutter with a laugh.

“We’re not— I mean— The akuma that got Miss Bustier was supposed to be for me. It’ll probably happen sooner or later.” She tucked her hair behind her ear to hide the subconscious movement she’d made towards her earrings. “Unless Ladybug and Chat Noir catch Hawk Moth first.” She was counting on that. She had nightmares of butterflies closing in on her from all sides, of Chat’s voice calling distantly for help, of knowing that without her, no one could cure the akuma.

“Well, once you and Adrien both have your supervillain stint we’ll need to start a club,” Alya said, looking up from her phone and smirking. “Miss Bustier’s class: all your favorite akumas, all in one place. We can have a costume party dressed as our supervillain selves.”

“Do you think people would really want to do that?” Marinette asked doubtfully. Alya shrugged, the movement sliding her slightly off the couch.

“We’ve got to laugh about it sometime,” she said, returning her gaze to her phone. “Otherwise, it just tears you up inside.”

———

“Adrien?”

Adrien started, and guiltily put the child’s drawing back on the shelf. His father approached him, face unreadable, and studied the picture Adrien had been examining. He turned to look at Adrien and raised his eyebrows.

“It was one of the things you—” He swallowed and looked away. Adrien hadn’t seen the Collector’s destruction, only Chat had, and he didn’t need any complicated conversations about where he’d been that day. “I’d almost forgotten you kept this.” Gabriel’s face continued to betray nothing as he turned his gaze back to the picture. He reached out and closed the cabinet, locking it away.

“Your mother had it framed,” he said, and Adrien tensed. Gabriel turned back to him. “Shouldn’t you be at your Chinese lesson?” he asked. “I trust your regular teacher is back today.” Adrien felt a jolt of nerves. He still couldn’t quite believe the way that Fu had just walked in, as if it were perfectly normal for a magical benefactor to masquerade as a substitute Chinese teacher. Still, there was no reason his father should notice anything strange about “Mr. Chan.”

“He’s running late,” Adrien explained. “Bad traffic after the akuma attack.” Gabriel’s lips pressed together thinly.

“Go study in the meanwhile,” he instructed.

“Father?” He called it after Gabriel’s retreating back, and the question tumbled out before he’d thought about what he was saying. “What was it like, being akumatized?”

He wasn’t sure why he said it. Maybe lingering unwanted suspicions that his father might somehow still be Hawk Moth prompted him, trying to catch him in a lie. Maybe it was because he normally ducked out of akuma conversations, nervous he might forget himself and let something slip. Maybe he was just looking for his father to talk honestly about himself, for once, about anything besides work. He felt Plagg shift in his pocket, felt him practically buzz with surprise and sudden alertness. Gabriel had paused, stiff-backed and silent. Adrien resisted the urge to run.

Gabriel turned back to face him, a frown creasing his forehead in a way that Adrien might have almost mistaken for concern. He reached out and laid a hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “It’s nothing you’ll ever have to experience,” he said. Adrien frowned, shook his head.

“Almost everyone in my class has been akumatized besides me,” he said. “Anyone could be next.” Gabriel pressed his lips together again, and something dark flitted across his eyes. He squeezed Adrien’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t feel like much of anything,” he answered. “I have no memory of it. It is less than a bad dream. But—” he hesitated minutely “—you should not let it worry you.” He released his shoulder somewhat abruptly and stepped back. “I think I hear your teacher at the gate. Enjoy your lesson.” He turned and left. Once he was out of the room, Plagg zipped out of Adrien’s pocket to hover by his head.

“What did you ask him that for?” Plagg asked. Adrien didn’t answer, still looking after where his father had left. His shoulder felt cold.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #marinette dupain #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste #that's the first time i've ever written a scene between adrien and gabriel #boy howdy was it a trip #my writing

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