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atiny-piratequeen · 1 year

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Character Analysis, Jung Wooyoung, the 'Shrieking Angel'

Name: Jung Wooyoung

Languages: English, Gaeilge (Post Transformation), Japanese (Modern Day), Korean (Modern Day), Creole (Modern Day)

Crew Position: Sailing Master + Navigator + Map Maker

Powers: Ferrikenisis (Alloy Manipulation) + Vocal Creation (Inherited from a banshee)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: West Facing, located on right pectoral, larvikite stone

Eye Color: Brown (Natural)/ Onyx Black (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Dark Brunette (Natural)/ Blonde (Demonic Form)

Likes: Quality Time With Loved Ones, Singing, Gift Giving

Dislikes: Being Left Alone, Inner Conflicts, Fighting

Wooyoung.

Young, and full of doe-eyed wonder. Sickness was never enough to slow the man down. Though the body may have been frail, the mind always yearned for that which lay just over the horizon.

Though blood may spill from his lips, though his bones may be weak, there’s certainly something over that horizon for him. He and his parents had faith when he turned away from his home. He’d come back a better man. A man that his mother and father would be proud of.

Lofty dreams keep the head afloat, but fires burn them back down to cinders.

Sailing Master Jung Wooyoung

This is his family now. With his hand firmly clasped in San’s, and with the graces of The Captian, Wooyoung has found his place with a brand new chance at life. Still finding conflict a bit too much to deal with head-on even after all of these centuries, Wooyoung prefers to work things out with a bit more subtlety, if possible. However, it’s up to very liberal interpretation if this approach works for the navigator.

While the days of the seas may be behind him and the crew now, Wooyoung still finds strength in his voice and blades. Time may roll on and the need for his original position has all but disappeared, he still knows he’s beyond the sickly man he was in the 1600s.

The song of the blades changes with the passage of time.

-Mythology-

Of Irish Origin, the banshees are known and often depicted as shrieking or screaming harbingers of death. Also known for their singing, banshees may sing to an unsuspecting individual similar to a siren in order to draw them closer.

Of many forms, ranging from young and conventionally beauiful, to old and decrepit, banshees have been known to wear similar attire when spotted, a tattered grey dress or cloak of some form, and with bloodshot red eyes from all of the wailing and crying.

The sighting of a banshee or hearing any of their glass-shattering screams instills fear in all who are familiar with the stories and mythology behind these “women of the fairy mound”, as a banshee sighting is known as a premonition of death soon to come. Her arrival and subsequent wailing may also spell doom for someone in the household of whoever hears her, making encounters all the more uncertain and terrifying.

Whether you refer to these female spirits as banshees, “little washerwomen” (a name given to them after depictions/stories of banshees washing the blood from the clothes of someone soon to die), or bean sídhe (known nowadays as “woman of the faries”), the constant amongst all depictions of banshees, is that these women of the forest are Angels of Death and the haunting sound of their vocalizations spell the end.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

Each note of sound, every vibration, may form a new creation.

Naturally used to being the most talkative and lively person in the room, and with a harmonious voice to match, Wooyoung almost instantaneously obtained a mastery over his newfound abilities. From simple conversation, to singing, to wails of anger or anguish, Wooyoung’s voice alone are all he needs for his powers to work.

Steel, Iron, Metal, alloys of a similar nature. Wooyoung can create all of them with a simple tune.

Once he fully transforms, Wooyoung’s hair lightens to blonde, with the area from his eyes to his temples turning black, with the vein-like markings stretching down past his cheeks. The same black color of his eyes is also the color of his lips, along with several dots along the bridge of his nose and stretching up to his forehead, with a backward crescent located just above his brows.

Wooyoung’s powers are heightened when he fully transforms. The louder the vocalizations are, the larger and more aggressively his powers work. This works in the opposite direction, as well, with quieter whispers yielding smaller creations.

Having been sickly for most of his early life, Wooyoung has never been a strong fighter. He’s learned over the years from Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and especially San, how to use an array of bladed weapons, and has actually created items that all of the pirates have used throughout their adventures. San and Yeosang use his creations the most, with each of San’s non-blood-made weapons being something from Wooyoung’s own powers. Yeosang’s preferred cookware are all made from Wooyoung’s own songs.

Due to the nature of his powers, Wooyoung cannot create anything if his ability to speak is hindered for any reason. Because of this and a certain previous experience, Wooyoung prefers to fight in groups with the others and finish fights as quickly as possible. His healing and fighting abilities are lacking compared to the other members of the crew, and serious injuries take him much longer to recover from, most likely a result of his body’s naturally weakened state before he inherited his powers.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main crew members have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist, and much like his crew position and his introductory chapter, Wooyoung shares his song with San, which is ‘Mist’ by Ateez.

If you’ve read San’s analysis, this section of Wooyoung’s analysis may mirror the breakdown a bit, but the selection of Mist is used as an in-story device for the relationship between the two and their coping with life aboard the slave ship they were taken aboard.

So please

Tell me it’s alright

In this uneasy mist (Alright)

Tell me, it’s all just a moment

So please

If this is my path

Hold my hand tight (Alright)

So I won’t wander for long

All of Wooyoung’s life until he and his family were tricked and he was taken aboard the ship was sheltered and incredibly quiet. Being born and raised as an anemic main with a (more than) slightly paranoid family that sheltered him from the outside world has left Wooyoung with a sense of uncertainty and a lack of confidence when it comes to making impactful decisions on his own without outside leadership. Wooyoung takes more comfort in following the lead of someone he trusts over his own decisions most of the time.

-Character Blurb-

“All I want…is to be stronger than the man I was raised as.” Wooyoung looked up through his bangs, blood running into his eye. The world around him spun, shifting metals and steel.

It's cold. The blades don’t feel like they normally do. In the distance behind him, he can hear someone calling for him. He didn’t tear his gaze away from the figure in front of him, his chest rising and falling harshly as they hummed slightly.

“My, you’ve been barking a lot tonight. Should I be afraid?”

Wooyoung ignored the voices calling for him, narrowing his eye. He sang a tune, low and sorrowful as his metal began to form, sharp and pointed at his adversary.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re afraid. All I know is I’m tired of living in fear and uncertainty.”

The figure laughed and spread their arms, leaving themselves open.

“Give it your best shot then, Navigator.”

Wooyoung inhaled sharply, widening his stance.

With the world whirring around him and vision red, he let out an unholy scream.

-M.List-

#fie writes #against the tide #att character analysis #wooyoung analysis #jung wooyoung #att spoilers #tw weapons

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clicked-in · 1 year

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tashabilities · 1 year

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I been massaging my breast tissue and digging in my armpit.

And whatever area that is at the back of my armpit seems like it's making my left arm better.

I really think the key is in my armpit and pectoral muscle,

Cause these pecs are tight.

Need somebody who can read Korean--this looks like hangul but I could be mistaken--to tell me what this stamp on this silicone ba guan fa cup say, like,

What's the name brand of this particular massage cup and can I buy two more of the ones that are THIS size?

Ugh, my arm still bad

But it feel better tho

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pihlmccormick · 2 years

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abbyandhanako · 2 years

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Here is Mark’s scars as a follow up to Abby’s scars and body markings

Scars: Mostly insults in Korean, several of them have healed in over the years and some are barely visible thankfully enough, Abby wanted to kill Sang-jo when Rood and Ghetsis discovered these.

Bruises: Mostly from being kicked and punched by Sang-jo when he refused to buy her a designer bag, the one one of his arm was from a broken arm when he was 15 after she kicked him.

Birthmarks: Not known but a mole on right pectoral.

Translations:

당신이 싫어요!: I hate you!

주사위!: Die!

못생긴: Ugly

오물: Filth

상조: Sang-jo

엿먹어: Fuck you

사기꾼: Cheater (after she found out Mark was dating Abby)

내 재산: My property

역겨운: Disgusting

#tw: domestic violence #mark jeong headcanons

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buffcontrol · 4 years

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New Short Story: “Athleticism”

(Female to male bodyswap, race change)

Sora watched with disappointment as all of her friends were accepted to universities on prestigious sports scholarships. She hadn’t received even one letter of admission and time was nearly up — all of her girlfriends had already decided on where they were going. They were all off to schools in Seoul and Busan and a few were even going overseas to study. Meanwhile, Sora had failed so far to get into even her own community college. She was humiliated.

Her grades had never been so good. Throughout senior high school, she had been preoccupied with boys, mostly — shopping to find more attractive dresses, studying makeup tips on Youtube and going on as many dates as she could. She never had the energy to study with the amount of time she spent running out to cafes and practicing her eyeliner in the mirror. It resulted in a boyfriend at least, but even he had kicked her to the curb one he got his admission letter. She was utterly dejected.

If only she had tried a little harder at volleyball, she thought. It wasn’t that difficult. And her friends going to university on athletic scholarships weren’t even that much better than she was. If she had just applied herself, practiced a little more, her grades wouldn’t have mattered and she would be off to university with her boyfriend in tow. But that dream was over: she hadn’t been good enough at volleyball, she hadn’t been smart enough and all she had gotten from her high school career was an expensive wardrobe and some makeup skills.

Maybe she’d end up being an esthetician, she thought. That wouldn’t be so bad… But she felt tears welling up as she longed for the life her friends had. “I wish I was more athletic,” she moaned.

She hadn’t imagined that some cosmic force might have been listening. That fate was ready to intervene. She hadn’t even thought of what she was saying when things started to change.

Sora was lying on her bed and attempting to stifle her tears when she felt a sudden heat swill through her skin. It was like a fever had suddenly loosed from her bones and submerged her whole body. And the sensation began to grow hotter from the base of her slender, white feet.

They were getting bigger. She hadn’t noticed at first, her eyes welled with the residue of her crying, but as she sat up straight and wiped at her face, she saw her toes beginning to expand inside her little pink socks, decorated with flowers and cherry blossoms.

The feeling began to quickly rush up from her feet and over her calves and lower legs. They were expanding, pushing out into lengthier, sturdier limbs as they enlarged over the end of her bed. Soon her new, meaty soles would touch the floor of her room. A sharp pricking revealed the emergence of dark, brown hair slowly beginning to line her entire legs before a set of rough, burly toes ripped from her pink floral socks.

“What’s— what’s happening to… me,” she asked in fear. But the words were hard to remember. It was like her native Korean was becoming more of a second language. “What… this is?”

She clapped a hand to her mouth. The voice didn’t sound like hers. And why was she speaking as if she only knew as much Korean as a foreigner? The fear coursing through her only became more dramatic as she felt the the width of her fingers inflate one by one as they grew thicker and burlier covering the entire width of her face, little knots of hair sprouting around her knuckles and the back of her wrists.

She needed to get up. She needed help, she thought. Something was seriously wrong. She stumbled up from her bed, finding her legs so clumsily long and thick with new muscle she could not operate them properly. She stumbled like a lost bird before toppling to the ground where she watched her legs grow into two overlong hunks of flesh. Even her calves had become radically pronounced and bulbous as if spheres of sheer muscle had been planted inside them, and her thighs were suddenly ripped with wedges and valleys of defined bulk. And they were so wide — they seemed almost double the size of her waist. With a final push out, they desecrated the last of her skirt, leaving her lace panties exposed while hair began to crawl further up her thighs.

Sora could only scream like a little girl, but she found that the voice erupting from her throat was low and gravel-like. Rocky and deep. It was no longer her voice, it was that of a man’s and one that did not belong to her. She covered her round lips with her strapping, wide palms, just to discover even her forearms were growing blocky with muscle. She didn’t even know muscles like that existed. And as it rose around the bones in her arms, stretching and pulling in new directions, she saw her skin was taking on a decidedly lighter tone. It spread from her fingernails and into her plump fingers before racing up her arms: becoming white.

Watching the changes take her body, she was overwhelmed with the tremendous weight possessing her upper arms. Her biceps pushed up so quickly they ripped through her school uniform, shredding the fabric and leaving her embarrassingly exposed. Despite being alone in the room, she sheepishly tried to cover herself up somehow, hide herself from the humiliation of how much of her body was visible. But her arms were such an absurd and lewd size at this point, it was no use; no matter how she adjusted her swelling arms, they revealed a wild thickness and muscle.

Her chest, too, was expanding. She had nice sized breasts — it was always what she received compliments on from boys — but the weight accumulating in her upper body was different from before. It popped the last buttons of her uniform and revealed her pink bra beneath where she found the bouncy flesh of her chest replaced with broad sinews of strength. Her nipples shrank and centered into a symmetrical face.

And across her new broad chest came a quickly encroaching layer of light hair. She cried out again, her voice even more masculine than before, as she desperately tried to swipe away at the new hair. It only grew thicker as she itched at it in place.

Her neck grew wider as her spine readjusted to fit her strange new height. Her countenance was changing too, she could feel her mouth getting wider and her lips thickening into a straighter, more square shape. Her petite, button like nose became broad and demanding as the nasal tissue stiffened, and her brow dropped and dug toward the lower half of her face. In her closet mirror, she watched as her jaw became rectangular and cut with the appearance of facial hair that immediately sickened her with disgust. Her small and delicate face was gone: staring back at her was a freakish foreigner bodybuilder. Finally, her long black haircut shriveled up into a tight brown crop as her eyelids unfolded and the muscles across her face realigned. She tried to think of how to say help in Korean — the word was totally vanished from her mind. Instead was a different word which echoed around with a startling familiarity. “Hilfe!” she sobbed. Tears bobbed down her big, boyish face. “Hilf mir!”

Cowering and beginning to cry in horror at what had happened to her, she awkwardly stood and walked in her usual dainty fashion toward the mirror. She had trained herself to walk with her hips, one foot in front of the other, which looked horribly ridiculous in the six foot four frame of this man she had come to inhabit. She’d been a whole foot shorter before.

“Ew…” she muttered, examining the hair stricken across her handsome face. And that was before she noticed the sudden musky smell of sweat move up from her exposed armpits. When she looked down to examine them, she nearly jumped in horror at the amount of wiry hair springing from them.

“This can’t be me…” she said, “this can’t be happening.” It wasn’t until she had finished speaking in her dumb, bro-like voice that she realized none of the words parting her lips were in Korean. What language was it? The words were masculine and brutish -- and she realized, she was speaking German. She panicked as she tried to find any Korean words in her brain and only a horrendously pronounced “annyeonghaseyo” spittled out.

As she was pulling on the features of her face, cringing at the horrible scent of man spiraling up from her, she felt a sudden transformation in the heat in her body. It began to concentrate all at one point, just beneath her stomach, punctuated with a stiff valley of abdominal muscles. The feeling was just beneath it, hotter than before, as if she was incinerating right there. At the crotch.

She stared into the mirror and watched as her lace panties quickly began to fill with the round head of a tremendous white cock. She nearly screamed again, except for that as she opened har mouth to, the sensation was flushed with extraordinary pleasure. She felt all of her sexual organs push into a new shape as they seemed to exit her body and manifest in the sensitive rod of her new genitals. And they kept expanding until the lace panties were so stretched with flesh she thought they would rip too. Balls descended from her, also scattered with hair, and she felt an entirely new sensation as blood rushed into this strange, massive thing between her thick highs which shot up straight. She was hard as fuck. Her dick finally popped up from the base as an intimidating 10 inch monster against her obliques.

Sora looked into the mirror with shock. She had become truly athletic. She thought: I got what I wanted. The feeling of accepting this truth was unlike anything she had ever felt as her two slabs of pectoral muscle overworked her little pink bra and her new cock throbbed against the bottom of her panties. She moaned: her voice still inflected with a feminine tone as her cry of pleasure came out more like a woman’s whine. She was overwhelmed, but she knew she had to do something with all of this pleasure.

She threw herself on her bed and desperately began to work her cock. It was intuitive: up and down with her hand. She fingered her nipples with her free hand and pressed her pecs together as if they were still made from the breast tissue she had possessed before. She had loved having her breasts played with during sex: this was altogether a different feeling, but the sensitivity radiating in her nipples was enough to make her buck in place. It was a strange feeling, she thought, the pleasure was so much stronger and stranger. As she moaned and squirmed on the bed, her sprawling back and thick, firm ass slicked with sweat, an incredible intensity seized her unlike anything she had ever felt before. For a moment, she was horrified, she thought she might die as her cock suddenly exploded with semen. She was coated in it: with no idea how to control her ejaculation, her cute pink sheets and her

Weeping in a bizarre guilt and terror, she found the only thing in her closet that would fit her: a baggy dress she had thought was once stylishly oversized. The dress that had been large on her small body now bunched up at her huge chest, so tight her new arms split a seem. Her enormous dick and balls gorged on the material and were totally visible through the white clothes as she marched downstairs for help.

Her family was preparing for dinner. They gasped and screamed as a lumbering German man appeared, crying in a feminine tone at odds with its bovine pitch: “Was ist mit mir passiert? Was ist mit mir passiert?!”

Her family had been shocked by the transformation, but not entirely surprised. Once they had worked out what had ahppened, they said this kind of thing had occurred in their family before, ancestors previously randomly taken by the power of a misplaced wish. Accepting their daughter’s fate, they began to help Sora adjust to her new life. It was extraordinarily difficult with the new language barrier — Sora had to relearn Korean from the ground up and could only express the most basic of desires. Her father had to teach her how to properly wash beneath her balls after she had showed up to breakfast one morning disgusting with musk. Shaving had been a nightmare. She could hardly figure it out, and after not too long she gave up on getting rid of her body hair. She surrendered to the tangle of pit hair and curls across her chest and groin, though she continued to try and lop at the patches of masculine hair on her face. And though it had taken her a great deal of practice, at least she no longer had to sit to piss on the toilet anymore, she had figured out how to pee standing up. She was slowly figuring out how to adapt to this new world.

Wrecked with shame and embarrassment at her ridiculous new form, she was most disgusted to discover how often her new body needed release. Every morning she woke up in the too-small girly pajamas she insisted on wearing with her titanic dick raging and desperate to cum. Her attempts to ignore her new sex drive were in vain: if she neglected her dick for too long, it began getting hard at any moment and leaking with pre-cum. She couldn’t believe this is what men had to put up with, and twice daily she woefully turned her attention to masturbating, clumsily whacking her dick around until it finally came and surrendered for a time being.

But the one thing that hadn’t changed was her desire for men. Now, only she had to cater to a different crowd. She had wondered at first if the change might make her into a straight man, but she found she was now even more desperate for male attention. She was wildly lonely, only having her teddy-bear for company. The same bear she’d had since she was a child.

Her desire for a man only increased as time went on. She could hardly take the shocked stares she received from other Koreans when she went out in public -- she wanted to scream “I’m the same as you!” despite knowing she was not at all -- but she desperately needed to find someone to give her what she needed. Occasionally, she’d notice other men ogling her body, watching her closely as her girly walk shook her hips and ass as she awkwardly tried to move.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she looked up the closest gay bar. She went by herself, sneaking out after her parents went to sleep, and wandered in with her feminine canter and shyness as she blushed and kept her head down. But all eyes were on her. When finally a handsome foreigner came up to her and asked her if she wanted to go home with him, she realized at last why she had wanted to become athletic. As he sucked her dick in his dirty, tiny apartment, she felt an unbelievable pleasure for the first time. She thought, this is why I wanted to be athletic.

She came with an obscene geyser of cum into the foreigner’s mouth, and she thought that maybe this had been a blessing all along.

#transformation #female to male

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specs-tacularmen · 5 months

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Word has gotten out among Korean muscle wonderboys that if they wear glasses they can get on this blog?!

ఈ యోన్గ్ జున్‌ ౨౩౧౧౨౩

#이용준 #specs and muscle #specs and pecs #asian specs #specs and abs #male perfection #specs and thighs #studio zest #asian muscle worship #abs for lovin’#deepcut abs #abstastic #juicy biceps #specs and body #specs and biceps #thigh worship #korean pectorals #korean superbody #korean specs

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outlikethat · 2 years

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[podfic] oh, while i live, by sincerelysamedt

another wishlist request, this one for @aowyn — I certainly maxed out on wishlist points, this @voiceteam mystery box, and on nothing else, shoutout to my chill club, Team Phone!

this beautifully poetic little character study of Horus in relationship to Seth was my first introduction to THE ENNEAD, a Korean webcomic about the ancient Egyptian pantheon. (the art is lovely, the story intriguing, and I will be reading more!)

for the cover, I could’ve gone for some desert/pyramid/whatever stock, but instead, because I could, I took an afternoon and my ipad and drew Horus and Seth together, looking suitably dramatic! to @sincerelysamedt, this jar of alabaster filled with ointment scented with myrrh and frankincense, rare mastic, lilies, and rich spices, and all my gratitude for giving me permission to read this.

oh, while i live, a story by sincerelysamedt, read by CompassRose, 11:16

Rating: Mature

M/M, Horus/Seth (ENNEAD)

(image ID: drawing in stylised digital-print style of Seth, a thin muscular pale-skinned man wearing a red-eyed black jackal half-mask and gold pectoral necklace, swooning in the arms of Horus, a thin muscular black-skinned man wearing a red, white, black, and gold hawk half-mask and gold pectoral necklace and armlets, against a black and grey background with stylised papyrus blooms. overlaid, text: oh, while i live, a story inspired by THE ENNEAD webcomic, written by sincerelysamedt, read by compassrose)

cover illustration, design, and layout by me

#let me read you a story!#podfic #very dramatic readings #sincerelysamedt #the ennead #horus #seth #artists on tumblr #my art #fan art #voiceteam #voiceteam mystery box 2021

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vicecityhq · 2 years

Photo

██████████████]99% LOADING...SUSPECT INTO THE APD DATABASE...

WITNESS(ES) SAY HE REMINDS THEM OF: the gentle tinkering of a screwdriver, gentle clicks of a keyboard, a hard face with a soft demeanor, planning a dnd game night, glasses perched all the way against the bridge of your nose. . With a slight resemblance to KIM MIN-SEOK ( Xiumin ) of/the EXO.

CLICK BELOW TO VIEW ENTIRE FILE.

FULL FILE:

Last Name, First Name: Noe Hyunjae Alias: Abraxas Realm of birth (if earth, nationality): Agdoeg, South Korea Age: 31 Date of Birth: April 10th, 1990 Gender: Cismale Preferred Pronouns: He/Him Species: Gumiho/Cyborg Lv1 1 Occupation: Chaebol & G.H.O.S.T. Medical Tech Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Associated businesses:

VISUAL FILE:

Skin Color: Warm ivory undertones, tans to a golden hue Eye color: Hickory brown but can appear caramel depending on the light [reference] Scars: Obviously has scarring on his right shoulder from the burns that resulted in amputation as well as surgical scars near the socket from the procedure. Piercings: Left ear - lobe, upper lobe, industrial. Right ear - lobe, upper lobe, and double helix. Wears mainly simple studs or barbells in silver or black metallic. His siblings have gifted him various shaped and coloured acrylic studs, mainly with a star/celestial motif. Doesn’t wear anything that dangles or has a noticeable weight. Used to have a spider bite lip piercing. Tattoos: A star chart map on his left pectoral [ reference ] each full circle corresponds to each of his siblings, including his, with his mother’s in the innermost circle and his father’s chart filling in the rest of the map. A geometric solar system along his inner left arm [ reference ]. His G.H.O.S.T. barcode is hidden in plain sight, on his cybernetic forearm, etched into the mechanical parts. Hair color: Naturally dark auburn [ reference ] but is known to bleach and dye it various shades from ash blond to near black, keeping to the warm red tones. Abnormalities: When his emotions run particularly high, his eyes seem to immolate with a spectral gold fire, regardless of form. Horns/ wings/ etc: Transformed form: Has a cross fur pattern when in fox form [ reference ] and 6 tails.

PERSONAL FILE:

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: Spiritual but does not adhere to a specific organized religion

SINS: greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath

VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / patience / justice / temperance

KNOWN LANGUAGES: Korean, Japanese, Cantonese, Mandarin, English, learning Thai

SECRETS: When they were young children, he had asked Sypha Jeup to marry him when they got older, but he’s sure she’s forgotten about that.

SAVVIES: Tinkering - Whenever he’s using a device, he finds himself getting lost in ideas of how to improve it. If given enough time, he’ll have fabricated a prototype out of scraps and begun tests, This has led to some interesting gadgets such as the God Furby. Tactician - Having always been drawn to strategy games and finding satisfaction in impeccable resource management systems, his mind has become used to viewing life as a series of cause and effect with the goal being to navigate those choices to achieve a flawless outcome.

Powers & Abilities: Dokkaebi Physiology, Sleep-paralysis Inducement, Supernatural Beauty, Possession, Shape-shifting, Illusion Manipulation, Insanity Inducement, Dream Manipulation, Nine-Tailed Fox Physiology

Traits: Responsible, good humoured, intuitive, fierce, relentless, vindictive, manipulative

BACKGROUND CHECK:

Date of Birth: April 10th, 1990

Date of Death: N/A

Crime Record: Officially spotless, but it's easy to control the narrative when you had a hand in installing and maintaining their databases.

Background/Biography: tw: arson, amputation, gun violence, surgery

Heavy should’ve been the head that held the crown, however that burden was not meant for Hyunjae to handle alone. The love Noe Seokbin had for his wife ran deep and bore many fruit, and Hyunjae soon found himself surrounded by siblings in a house just large enough to hold their laughter. He took to the role of eldest brother as if he was born for it, always there to clean and bandage a scrape, pass the controller to when the boss was just too tough, and keep secrets from mom and dad. His father didn’t have to guide or control him as Hyunjae developed into the spitting image of the Noe patriarch, responsible, good natured, with his own hunger to master any technology he could get his hands on.

And then their home was set ablaze in 2008. Hyunjae was the first to notice that they were a head short and he ran back into the building before anyone could stop him. He knew where Haemasu liked to hide, call it a big brother instinct, and used his arm to prop up a burning beam so the youngest could escape the inferno. He only collapsed on the lawn once he saw their mother clutching the baby of the family, knowing everyone was finally safe. The decision to amputate his son’s arm was not made lightly, Seokbin knew that there was a chance Hyunjae would never regain full functionality, even with the advancements made in prosthetics as complications could always happen. The paperwork was signed the night Hyunjae’s anesthesia wore thin for only a few moments, watching his son screaming his throat bloody in agony was convincing enough. When Hyunjae awoke after the procedure, he blankly stared at the space his arm used to be before asking after his siblings.

The process of relearning how to operate with his non-dominant hand was long, but Hyunjae was always a dutiful student. Over time, the family noticed subtle but ever growing changes to Hyunjae’s prosthetic, the hard plastic fingers gaining more dexterity and accuracy with every passing iteration. Seokbin confirmed his suspicion by catching Hyunjae late one night, awkwardly using his left hand and teeth to modify his own arm. They reviewed the shakily drafted schematic and began building Hyunjae a proper arm together. Each version remained rather rudimentary and always had some tactile hurdle it couldn’t overcome. It was only when a budding cybernetics company looking for investors caught his father’s attention that real progress was made and Hyunjae’s arm became the company’s first major unveiling.

Through the trials and research, Hyunjae caught a taste for electrical and biomedical engineering and his academic path was set. He refused to rely on his name and legacy to achieve his accolades and sought his doctorate in secret. Balancing the demands of the blinding spotlight, thriving business, and academic bureaucracy with incredible time management and copious caffeine. He saw the scope of the cybernetics field to be too small, settling on limb replacement and tools for physical therapy and assistance, when it held so much more potential. The entire organ harvesting and transplant system could be upended, and should be revolutionized in order to meet the desperate demand. So he built lungs and kidneys from wires and sterilized metals, proving the concept but always looking towards replicating the heart and dreaming of augmenting the brain.

Much like how his father caught him tinkering well into the night, Hyunjae lingered in the shadows beyond Seokbin’s office door, overhearing a warning that threatened the very foundation of the city. He knew of the Noe and Jeup’s tumultuous history from his grandmother and her terrible bedtime stories, but that was all he thought of them as, simply stories from generations ago. Their fathers acted as opposite ends of a bridge between their families now, and Hyunjae remembered being told to watch over the Jeup children as he would his own siblings. Hyunjae confronted his father behind closed doors and accepted his cautious and patient approach. If the Jeup’s were so entwined with the bleeding underbelly of the city, it was best to appear unassuming, amass their allies silently and prepare for when they needed to go hunting. The Noe never lit the match, but they would control the fire.

Hyunjae found himself staring into the reflective abyss of Agdeog’s criminal scene, the random violence that consumed the city focusing into tendrils of a writhing, feeding monstrosity. Each act connected by thin strings of causality, and more and more of them vanished into the void surrounding the Jeup patriarch. With the scent of blood coating his tongue, he grasped a crimson stained thread and tugged. Much like his father, he was visited by a figure at his lab and expected a similar warning, instead finding himself mulling over an interesting proposal. The Veil’s cause resonated with Hyunjae’s sense of justice and so he submerged himself into the chaos, distancing himself from his siblings so they wouldn’t be caught in his wake. The group had the best intentions, but lacked the means or the ambition to actually do anything substantial. Hyunjae became an increasing voice and call to action as he rose through the ranks, navigating the battlegrounds with careful words to soothe emblazoned egos much like his father would negotiate among salivating businessmen. Millimeters of progress were finally being made, but it all unraveled when Hyunjae chose his family over everything else.

Having his baby sister, Dalnim, on his operating table broke something in him. All that careful patience was worth nothing when he was coated up to his elbows in her blood, holding her heart that fluttered weakly around the bullet lodged inside its ventricles. He worked tirelessly through the night, giving her his life’s work, needing it to give him back his sister. As the metal valves expanded, the mechanisms hummed as Dalnim’s pulse returned. Wracked with exhaustion, drenched in sweat and blood, he collapsed beside the table, clutching her hand until she squeezed his back. The next few days were spent carefully monitoring her, both to allow her to recover from such a traumatic event but to also keep her close in case of complications. When they both emerged from his lab, the world had shifted.

The city was in a state of shock, unaware of how deep the scars would run from the carnage that unfolded. “Cut off the heads,” He remembered saying the words among the Veil, but that’s all they were supposed to be, words, an idea. It wasn’t meant to be a plan. It was a last resort, a way to knock the chessboard over when everything else failed. There was too much chaos, coursing anger, and bad blood infecting the veins of the city for something so brash to ever work. As the Veil faded into the mists, he watched the new generation step into their shadowed thrones, a hunger stoked by opportunity thick on their tongues. Whispers of Jeup's involvement with the Nightbloods reached him and Hyunjae knew he had to act before the noose around Agdeog grew too tight.

G.H.O.S.T was founded under the promise of one thing, to control the uncontrollable. The city could not survive another war, and Hyunjae was going to ensure that it never would have to. Learning from the mistakes of the Veil, he selectively collected his allies in secret, knowing that if the gangs caught wind of a growing power they wouldn’t be able to help themselves and cannibalize the city in an effort to maintain rule over the ashes. He was patient and cautious, careful to not make any waves as the pieces slowly set themselves into place. Then his parents disappeared and the priorities shifted once again. He let his siblings bark and gnash their teeth, accusations flying as unanswered questions continued piling up. The goals of the Noe family and of G.H.O.S.T blending and blurring into the same: vengeance.

Sangje challenging his leadership was not surprising, but the true pain came from watching the faith in him vanish in each of his siblings as they casted their votes. He maintained his composure as he passed the torch to his younger brother, bitterly swallowing the betrayal so that it could melt away in the acids of his stomach. They could sit in the seat he built, order the allies he secured, but they could never replace him as their elder brother.

INTERVIEW QUESTION (para sample): “Just run us through what happened that night”. - Officer

The bowtie around his neck was too tight.

Mingling under the crystal chandeliers of the Jeup estate, Hyunjae gave easy smiles and sweet words to anyone he came across, having the tact to attempt to appear equally invested. Sharply manicured nails occasionally dug into the jacket of his tuxedo, the brazen ones reaching up to try and swipe at his skin with some wafer thin excuse. The cost of being a generous benefactor was that everyone was hungry for a piece, even if the spotlight preferred to illuminate the illicit and scandalous affairs of the middle Jeup. Slipping away from glittery claws, he found himself at a balcony, watching the wind play among the leaves in a garden. He could almost hear the excited yips from a cluster of fox pups weaving between the bushes from deep in his memory.

“What happened that night?” Hyunjae turned, regarding the approaching police chief with a neutral expression, flicking through the possibilities and implications of the question. “At the gala, you excused yourself from the festivities rather abruptly.”

Hyunjae wore an easy smile, providing body language that would placate the man, “Nothing very exciting, I assure you. A business partner had not accounted for the time difference and requested a meeting. I didn’t think I would be missed once the silent auction was over.”

Satisfied with that answer, the two exchanged their pleasantries and went their separate ways. Hyunjae noted the eruption of raucous laughter carrying from the open doorway and wondered what headline that would create for tomorrow.

#rp #rpg #krp #krpg #oc rp #oc rpg #gang rpg #gang rp #mafia rp #mafia rpg #supernatural rp #supernatural rpg #literate rp #literate rpg #vcaccepted #vcghost

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psychopersonified · 4 years

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Who’s the brunette?

Part of the prequel series to "Are we ever going to talk about this?".

I'll post little snippets of their 'not dating' days in this series. Little events that draw them together and the intimacy they share in plain sight.

This particular snippet happens Monday after the Friday party in “Keep Calm. Dance On.”

------

“Oh 007, did you hear? There is the most unusual rumour going around. Seems someone thought they saw the Quartermaster leave last week’s party in an Aston Martin DB5? You wouldn’t know anything about this would you?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Monday 8:30am - SIS HQ.

The lift doors open at Parking Level 2 to admit a well rested and impeccably put together Eve Moneypenny.

“Moneypenny, morning. How are you?” Bond says in greeting.

“007. You’re early,” she skips the greeting, her tone a little frosty as she gets into the lift and turns around to face the doors.

“So it’s 007 today? May I know what I’ve done to deserve it this time?” Bond knows enough about women to know that it is always his fault.

“IF you’re interested… someone I call a friend left me all alone at a party last Friday.”

Bond freezes... ah that. He’d completely forgotten. He drops his head in embarrassment. After all, It was Eve who convinced him to attend. A decision he was incredibly grateful to her for. He recalls the night and how he spent it in the company of a leggy brunette.

“Ah… I must apologise. That was terribly ungentlemanly of me,” pause, he needs to get himself out of the doghouse, “How can I make it up to you?”

“Well, for starters, you might tell me who it was that caught your attention. So much so that you left a good friend high and dry?” She’s laying it on a bit thick, but where would the fun be otherwise?

“What makes you think it was a someone? It was an office party after all.”

Eve leans over to him, a hand reaching up towards Bond’s shoulder. He’s still wearing his outer coat, having come straight up from the parking garage. Her hand comes back with a strand of hair between her fingers; she holds it up in front of his eyes - it clearly isn’t his.

“Who’s the brunette?” She teases him.

Bond schools his face into a neutral expression looking straight ahead. Bloody spies and their deductive skills.

-Ding!- The lift announces its next stop on Ground Level. The lift doors open, revealing a small group of people waiting for the lift - including Q, R and Mark at the front.

Everyone squeezes in. The lift is packed tight, yet no one wants to take the second lift; a result of the lifts being notoriously slow during rush hours.

There is a chorus of polite greetings:-

“Good Morning.”

“Excuse me.”

“Pardon. Which level?”

“How’s it going?”

“Level 7 please. Thanks.”

There is some awkward shifting as the occupants arrange themselves according to who is going to alight first.

Q ends up standing in front of Bond, back to him.

Eve has a mischievous glint in her eyes. She still has the strand of hair between her fingers. So she lifts it and holds it up to the back of Q’s head. The colour and length is an exact match.

Bond slides his eyes towards her. He wants to smack her hand away. They are in a packed lift for Christssake. Eve’s little action catches R’s attention and she tilts her head thoughtfully at them. Eve shots her a meaningful look.

The lift dings their arrival at Level 3. Five people alight except for Bond, Eve, Q, R and Mark - they are headed for the Executive floor on Level 12 to their respective meetings.

The remaining occupants sigh in relief. They start moving apart to give each other more personal space. But before they can do that, six more SIS employees enter - making it worse than before.

“Hold the lift please! Thanks!” A -seventh- person calls just as the doors start to close. A breathless Accounts Department employee squeezes her way in while struggling to carry two cardboard boxes of files. Everyone has to politely shuffle closer to the back to make room.

Bond is forced all the way to the back corner of the lift, the hand rails digging into his back. Eve has to move to the other corner. He can’t help but roll his eyes in annoyance. Why couldn’t M see him later in the morning?

This leaves the Quartermaster on his side of the lift. Q also has to shift back but accidentally steps on Bond’s expensive Italian leather shoe and jolts away too quickly in apology - nearly losing his balance.

“Oh! My apologies—,” It comes out as a rushed whisper.

“—you’re alright.” Bond places his hands on Q’s waist to steady him. Q is wearing only a cardigan made from the softest cashmere over his dress shirt and tie. Bond can feel the warmth of the flesh underneath. He uses the slightest pressure to pull Q backwards into his personal space, so that the others can move in.

Q’s right shoulder blade makes contact with one of Bond’s pectorals. But the younger man makes no protest, on the contrary - unless Bond’s imagining it, he feels Q lean further into the touch. They are pressed close in the compact space, he can smell the fresh scent of Q’s soap and shampoo.

Maybe there is some good that comes from being in crowded lifts. The rest of the ride up feels like an eternity spent in awkward silence for everyone inside with the only distraction being the soft jazzy elevator music. It feels like the lift made a stop at every floor.

Bond does not remove his hands until the lift arrives at Level 12 where M’s office is located. They all alight. Bond and Moneypenny head directly to M’s office. The techies movie off to the conference room for the monthly joint Ops meeting.

Eve waits until she is alone with Bond just outside of her office to ask:

Busted. Yes, so he did spend the party stuck to the Quartermaster’s side. And yes, he did steal Q out for a post revelry kebab supper - which may have included a long stroll along the river after. Finally yes, he did make sure Q got to his doorstep at the end of the very late night/early morning, but only out of concern for his safety.

Bond considers his options.“Name your price.”

“What exactly are you implying? I’m offended that you’d think I’d stoop to blackmail—“ Eve places a hand over her heart in mock indignation, “—but I suppose since you do owe me an apology…” She bats her eyelashes at him.

She mulls over it, “There is this restaurant in Soho, it’s booked out for months. But I’m sure you have your ways around it. My family is in town next week.”

She unlocks the door to the office, letting them both in. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Consider it done.” Bond assures her courtly, he really was sorry about ditching her on Friday. Nevertheless, he is surprised at how easy he is being let off on this - when you consider how protective Eve can be over their Chief Boffin.

“Aren’t you going to warn me off?” Bond wonders aloud.

“Do I have to? It is still just a harmless game... isn’t it?” She searches his face for any indication otherwise, though she reckons she knows the answer even if Bond himself doesn’t know it yet.

He holds the door open for her. M arrives behind them cutting off any answer he might have.

———

Friday 4:30pm - SIS HQ

If Bond has to hear about North Korea again in the next 3 months, it would still be too soon. He had just finished an all day strategy conference with Mallory, 009 and their Korean Station Chief about how MI6 was going to extract their operatives embedded in the regime in the face of the recent crackdowns.

It is not that he’s being insensitive, the meeting is critical and he had played his part in contributing to the discussion and assessing the tactics available to them. It is just that both M and 009 have a tendency to prattle on (his opinion) and discuss ad nauseam every detail, while 007 prefers to… well, get on with it.

Unsurprisingly the meeting ran overtime and Bond is feeling peckish. And when his blood sugar runs low, his patience runs thin. At least this time, he had managed to behave long enough for the meeting to end.

It takes him 20 excruciating minutes to reach Q-Branch. It is Friday afternoon, and like any other civil service, MI6 lobbies and lifts are a hive of activity with most employees trying to wrap up for an early weekend.

Most of the time was spent waiting for the lifts, and then riding the lift, then letting people in and then out the lift - there has to be a better system to organise the lift service.

Bond is inordinately relived when he finally arrives at Q-Branch all the way in the basement floors of the building.

Once he’s through the doors, he makes a beeline for Q’s office nook and Q’s desk. The man is not around, but Bond helps himself with familiar ease. Bond pulls open the second drawer and retrieves a bar of protein snack from the stash in the drawer.

He is almost finished with the bar when he realises that Q has not returned to his desk and is nowhere to be seen on the work floor. Curious, he makes a circuit of the floor trying to be surreptitious.

Jamila catches him ‘not’ looking and puts him out of his misery. “He’s downstairs, in the Firearms Lab with 003,” she doesn’t bother asking if he is there on official business.

Bond tries not to look like he’s been caught, but manners win out and he attempts a casual, “...Thank you.” - his feet starting to carry him towards the main doors.

“Badge!” Jamila calls out to remind him.

Bond backtracks smoothly, heading to Q’s desk and that second drawer to grab his blasted employee ID badge that he keeps in there. He can get away without it on the upper floors, but the Lower Ground labs contain live ammunition and thus require extra authentication for security.

—-

The labs are a study of industrial utilitarian design - an amalgamation of concrete, steel and glass.

003 is easy to locate. Her stunning if scant evening gown incongruous in the surroundings. Bond can only see her from the back. She has one stiletto heel resting on something in front of her.

As he draws nearer, his viewing angle changes and he can see what or more accurately who her heel is propped up on.

Their Quartermaster is on one knee in front of her. The toes of her shoe resting on his thigh. The side slit of the dress is cut high and hides very little.

Q is adjusting her thigh holster, a specially designed and fabricated skin-coloured thing worn fairly high on the leg to make it less obvious. To improve stability, the holster is anchored with clips that connect directly to 003’s one piece undergarment.

“Oh Q, the material is perfect - incredibly comfortable, but the fit needs to be tighter.” She provides him with feedback. When she looks up, she catches Bond in the reflection of a nearby glass wall - watching them with wide blue eyes.

“Yes, right. There is an adjustment strap on the inside so all you have to do is… “ Q pulls at the tab - careful not to touch her skin in so much as he can, seeing that the tab is located near the inner thigh. 003 gathers her skirt up higher to allow him better access.

From Bond’s angle, their combined actions are grossly inappropriate.

“…pull this tab to adjust for the required fit. We’ve gone with the new hook-and-loop fasteners so they shouldn’t catch on most fabrics, even delicate ones. This should allow you to use it with any frock of your choice.“ Q explains still oblivious.

“How thoughtful of you Q. I don’t suppose you could make them in… lace trim?” She says to the top Q’s head, smirking into the refection, raising a perfect eyebrow at 007.

“We can make them in any colour or trim you’d like 003. Just let us know what you need. Please allow for a few weeks though, as the elastane base material is specially sent for.” Q looks up at her with a shy smile.

“Oh you spoil us Q. We never had such personalised service until you came along.” She coos down at him while she ran one hand lightly through his hair combing back his fringe while the other formed a hooked finger under his chin to tip his head up to her.

003 is wearing a self-satisfied grin. What a picture they made! Her deft manoeuvring had Q looking like the very picture of a besotted young man attending submissively to his object of infatuation.

She sees 007 in the refection clenching and unclenching his hands. Whoops…. she knows 007, having worked him with him over the years. They get along fine. But this new development is interesting. What is his problem anyway?

Perhaps it would be best to end this here for now.

“Well, thank you Quartermaster. I’d best not take up anymore of your time. Will it be alright if I stayed here to have a chat with 007?” She dismisses him politely, adjusting her skirt and removing her heel from his thigh.

“Oh, yes of course. Sure.” Q stands, brushing his trousers.

“Ah 007, I didn’t see you there—,” the sentence is cut off when Q catches Bond’s blazing blue eyes and dark expression and is confused, “D… did you need anything?”

Bond schools his expression back to neutral. “Not at the moment. Just need a quick word with 003. Meet you back upstairs?”

Q collects his tablet and nods his leave to both of the agents.

When Q is out the doors, 007 closes the distance between him and 003 - who to her credit is not cowed. Instead of stepping back, she steps sideways and the two double-0 agents circle each other for a few moments.

“Oh don’t look at me like that!” she finally says, exasperated with his posturing, also she was getting dizzy with the circling. They were friends, well as much as trained assassins with trust issues can be.

“You—,” she points a finger at him, “—need to learn how to share. You monopolised all of his time last Friday night! After that delicious display of his, I’d like to take him out clubbing and see what else is hiding under that cardigan wearing persona.” She confesses, but still annoyed at 007.

She makes a squeezing motion with her hands, a gesture usually reserved for when talking about cute animals, “He’s so adorable I want to stuff him in my pocket--,” then she indicates to her skin tight dress, “—if I had any.”

Bond is not moved. He feels like they are siblings negotiating playtime allotment with a favourite pet or toy. Well, he was an only child and he had never learnt to share.

“The rest of us would like to play too you know. Alec says—,” 003 nearly throws a tantrum.

“He’s not a plaything!” Bond’s vehement whisper surprises even him. Where did that come from?

“Pot. Kettle…” Comes her practiced reply. But something in his tone catches up to her. She studies him closer. Bond appears to be grappling internally with his own words.

-Oh.My.God- Can it be? 003 abandons her petulant tantrum. The adult slipping back into place.

“You’re not… playing anymore are you?” the question comes from a place of genuine interest.

No answer. Just a sullen 007 staring at his feet, hands in his pockets.

“Huh! Of all the people you choose...” She shakes her head at him.

Well then, there is only one thing left to do. She comes right up close to him, cups his face in her perfectly manicured hands, forcing him to look at her - then says with as much sisterly fondness as she could muster:-

“Don’t. Cock. It. Up.”

-------------------------

Note: If you liked this fic, there’s more like it on the blog. Including my take on a kidnapped Q. Enjoy!

#00q #00q fanfiction #00q fic #Q #Quartermaster

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atiny-piratequeen · 4 years

Text

Character Analysis, Choi San- the 'Usurper'

Languages: English, Arabic (Post Transformation), Japanese (Modern Day), Korean (Modern Day), French (Modern Day)

Crew Position: Sailing Master + Navigator +Map Maker

Powers: Blood Manipulation (Inherited by Egyptian God, Set)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: Northwest, located on his left pectoral (mirrors Wooyoung’s), Pigeon Blood Ruby

Eye Color: Brown(Natural)/ Heterochromatic Pink Right Eye, Lime Green Left Eye (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Dark Brunette (Both Forms)

Likes: His space, Sitting in the Crow’s Nest, Drawing Maps, Weapons, Talking Shit

Dislikes: His family, Letting Too Many People Close to Him or Wooyoung, Mirrors, His Own Reflection

*The above artist rendition of Set is used courtesy of the game, Smite

Oldest Son, Choi San.

Born the one and only son of a family of four, somehow didn’t gain him enough of his family’s respect-or love-growing up. San is actually the child of two aristocratic parents, something that clashed with his personal desire to be his own person. Rebelling for as long as he could walk, San grew to resent the tightening noose around his neck from his family and began running away more frequently from his family.

They couldn’t even remember his own birthday, and he couldn’t be bothered to remember theirs. When the opportunity arose and he was forced aboard a pirate ship, the small voice on his shoulder told him as the shackles were placed onto his wrists and ankles, that he’d never see them again.

San couldn’t help the quirk of his lips at the thought.

Sailing Master Choi San

Suppressing his aristocratic side has never been so easy. Though standoffish at first, San has had the opportunity to prove himself as a new, useful man. For once, he finally understands what a ‘family’ is and how it feels to be ‘loved’. Wooyoung was the first to make him feel like more than a burden on the people around him, and to this day, while he loves all of the members and his lovers in his own way, Wooyoung will always be his first love and one of the first ones he’ll ever turn to when he’s in trouble.

With a pencil in hand and the sea breeze blowing his bangs, San can finally draw his own future and feel peace knowing he is loved by those around him.

-Mythology-

Set, also known as Seth, is the Egyptian God of the desert, storms, chaos, and violence. Depictions and understandings of them vary depending on who’s drawing, writing, or viewing him, but he has been represented as a male figure with a humanoid body and an animal head like many other Egyptian gods and goddesses were. Such animals he has been depicted as include several canines, including jackals, fennecs, and greyhounds. He has also been depicted as having a donkey, okapi, aardvark, antelope, or oryx’s face, instead. The inconsistency of his figure in Egyptian depictions is also believed to stem from Set himself being more like a chimeric being who changes his forms.

Set, like many other Egyptian gods, can change his forms into several animals, and also has a form to mimic the appearance of the god Anubis.

A destructive force of nature and often regarded as a trickster, Set was credited for creating natural disasters such as sudden, flash flooding, sandstorms, and thunderstorms. He is considered to be one of the mightiest of the Egyptian gods.

Egyptian familial trees are often complex and overlap, but some depictions of him and his family, Geb and Nut are his parents, with Osiris, Horus, Isis, and Nephthys being his siblings and Ra being his grandfather. In other depictions, Horus and Anubis are his nephews and in some, Anubis is his illegitimate child after disguising himself as Osiris and courting Isis.

One of the driving factors of many of Set’s tales is his burning jealousy and rage, especially towards his brother Osiris.

Set was apparently the only of his siblings that didn’t have a traditional birth. Some say he tore himself from his mother’s womb, others say she spat him into existence and this was believed to foretell his existence of a being of chaos and disorder.

At one point, his brother Osiris, known to be a benevolent king that brought positive changes to the lands he ruled and graced, left out of his kingdom’s reach to help in other areas of the world, and as such, appointed his wife Isis to rule the lands in his stead.

While he was away, Set would set into motion the of the largest scaled affair in all of Egyptian mythology, an event that included many of the Pantheon’s major players in some way shape or form.

After conspiring against him with several others, Set would end up trapping and murdering Osiris. Not content with simply killing him, Set eventually tears Osiris to pieces, tossing his remains all across Egypt in another attempt to keep him from ever being whole again. Isis managed to find all of the pieces of her husband despite Set’s efforts. Well, most of the pieces.

She never located his dick, so that’s fun. She replaced it with a golden one, though! Yay innovation!

Through the use of magic, Isis managed to revive Osiris, though he would never rule in his original kingdom ever again, and would instead be in the Underworld.

Set tried several times to steal Osiris’ body from the underworld, and each time was punished severely for his intrusion by the jackal-headed god of the dead, Anubis. Eventually, after repeated attempts, Anubis grew tired of the chaotic desert god and killed Set once and for all.

Despite his chaotic and volatile actions, Set did have moments of redemption. In the afterlife, Set protected the great Sun God, Ra, from the serpent Apophis as Ra embarked on his daily journey through the Underworld. Set placed himself in front of Ra’s barque and would attack and kill Apophis every time he would rise to attack Ra. The serpent could be killed, but would rise again the very next day.

Set would be there to slay it night after night, thus granting Ra safe passage and being one of the reasons the sun rises each day.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

As Set is one of the more violent of the gods that the boys have inherited their powers from, San’s fighting style has remained just as violent and wild. When he is fully imbued with the effects of his powers, his eyes go bright pink and lime green. His lips turn into an onyx color and runes appear across his face, from his forehead, all the way to his chin.

San’s blood manipulation allows him to turn any blood around him into a weapon, be it a series of daggers to propel through the air, or his go-to favorites, a large spear or scythe for attacking. Despite his aristocratic upbringing, San is incredibly good at hand to hand combat and isn’t afraid to fight ’dirty’. He’s only gotten more proficient at fighting without his powers thanks to Yunho taking the time to teach him capoeira.

San’s runes only appear when he begins using his blood manipulation, and he prefers to use other people's blood, as too much blood loss from himself may still make him pass out and leave him prone in battle. He also has a few light blades weapons from Wooyoung he uses when there hasn't been any bloodshed on the battlefield yet, but if push comes to shove, he's not opposed to asking the slightly younger immortal to cut into him.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. San's song, which he shares with Wooyoung, is Mist by Ateez. I will go over some spoiler things, but if you made it this far, you may know this already.

Mist is used as an in-story device that goes over Wooyoung and San’s budding relationship and them coping with the uncertainty of life while being prisoners aboard a slave ship.

-If I can’t see anything

If I can feel you, I’m fine

I want you to make me sure

I need you to help me out of my misery

I can see the light in the dark,

It quickly blurs

Step back in place.-

San spends the majority of his life feeling isolated and alone. He had no friends, as his mother’s aristocratic status left him with limited options for people he could make friends with. His sisters resented him as much as he did the entirety of his family, and he usually kept to himself. His general dislike and distrust for those around him persist until he meets Wooyoung, and it’s through the other boy’s positive outlook on life that San slowly begins to understand that not everyone in the world is out to get him.

- Lost and wandering hands again

Hold me and hug me

Your whisper is my compass

Even if we’re going back for a long time

Stay with me, always

I’m not sure. I don’t know the way

I’m just Like Alley Cat without you....-

San doesn’t know what it means to love, be it platonic or otherwise until he meets Wooyoung. He has a disposition much like that of a feral and volatile alley cat due to what he went through all through life, but it’s through Wooyoung-and eventually Hongjoong and the crew-that he’s guided towards the more positive aspects of life.

They soon become his new moral compass.

-Character Blurb-

“You’re just like the other pirates. I won’t let you take away the only person that’s ever loved me.”

San’s eyes grew as he watched his body move against his own will. The runes on his face gleamed and pulsed with chaotic energy as he attacked Seonghwa and Hongjoong, laughing maniacally and screaming about them giving Wooyoung back. Across from him, two eyes gleamed in the darkness.

He stepped away, his foot sinking into the sand that was below his feet.

A snort came from the figure, as he approached, his blade dragging through the sand.

“Long lives those who are strong. How strong are you, cowering under something as fruitless as ‘love’? I choose you because you are full of rage, you have all I need to take back this world and get my revenge. Give in, it’ll all be over soon.”

“San!”

San looked behind him, eyes wide as he saw Wooyoung. No, he had to get out of there, he couldn’t-

“It’ll all be over soon.” The figure repeated, and in a gush of sand and wind, he saw his body fly forward and a blade of blood sliced into Yunho. San screamed inside his head as the dark figure controlled his body, eyes gleaming in malice as he raised a blood sword.

“Rid yourself of such fruitless emotions and useless people. Let it all wash away in the sand and blood. I’ll do you this one favor. Then, this body will be mine.”

“So please,

If this is my way

Hold my hand

So we won’t wander for much longer…”

The sound of Wooyoung’s voice finally spurred San to action and he sprinted forward before the large being could kill Yunho. He snatched a small blade from his hip and buried it into his back with a scream. Blood splattered onto his cheek and the large man tossed him aside, pink and green eyes turning on him as he broke into a run towards San, a scream of rage and pain rattling in the sandy area inside San’s mind.

San threw his hands up, and the blood from the being’s wounds sharpened, impaling him from all sides before his claws could slice into San’s face.

His hand trembled as he let out a growl.

“No! Not...Not again…!”

San stood, feeling himself regaining control as the dark dessert began to fade away from his vision. Before he completely regained his senses, he looked back at the dying entity, his lips pressed into a firm frown and his fists clenched.

“I’m my own person. I have no strings on me. Not anymore.”

-M.List-

#fie writes #against the tide #att character analysis #choi san #san #tw blood #tw violence #tw death

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theladylikesfics · 5 years

Text

First Encounters

You had a moment of “Fuck It. I’m just going to go.” You held a major garage sale cleaning out some clutters and old memories than you felt it was finally time to let go of, held a small going away party, bought a plane ticket and were off. You were going to spend the next three months exploring Asia. It felt cliché and white girl mid-life crises but there were some spots you been dreaming about visiting since you were young and now it was time. Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia and finally Korea. You were currently in your second week exploring Vietnam, and you were absolutely in love with the city of Da Nang. You were on your daily trip through the Con Market when you heard the commotion of several children laughing playing and running behind you. The cacophony of noise surrounded you as they raced towards you, then finally past you. As quickly as it happened you noticed the strap to your shoulder bag had been snipped and was gone. You quickly began to shout and chase after the kids. As a precaution you never brought all of your money with you just enough to purchase a few things and go back to your rented room. As you continued to chase a looming figured appeared in front of the pack of children making them skid to halt. “Arrête ça, tu sais mieux, maintenant, dites-leur que vous êtes désole. I’m so sorry they are normally really good kids sometimes they are just mischievous.” Your heart lodged in your throat as you heard the deep voice of the man standing in front of you holding out your hand bag that he’d quickly tied into a tight knot. He was handsome with a strong defined face and jawline; you could see he had bit of tattoos on him from the thin cotton button down that he was wearing that was currently damp from sweat and the humidity of the city. To say he was muscular was an understatement. His pectoral muscles stood out as the camera strap hang between them, his biceps were full and the bulge from them as he flexed gently made your core clench. Hearing french roll off of his lips as easy as water sliding down a wall made you want to fuck him right there on the spot. “I know all of the kids, so please check your belongings and if anything is missing, I’m sure I can get it back for you.” You stood there gawking trying to find your words as you assessed and undressed that fine ass man. Your eyes roamed down as you noticed he was in ripped jeans. Thick muscular sections of thigh, a broad knee and legs were exposed soaking up the sun. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow the trail of sweat that rolled down his neck, collar bone, down a section of his chest and eventually got soaked in by the tank top he was wearing. “Excuse me are you alright, can you speak?” “Oh Yes, ahh thank you.” You were so lost in your assessment of him you had completely zoned out that he was speaking to you. “Please check your things if anything is missing, I should be able to retrieve it for you.” The deep rumble of baritone that was his voice rippled through you like a pebble hitting the water; his presence was leaving you speechless. You hadn’t been this affected by anyone like this in such a long time you’d forgotten that it was possible. Willing yourself to actually pay attention to what he was saying and not just him, you went through your bag and saw that nothing was missing; however, the strap had been cut. “Everything is there but my strap has been cut. Fuck.” “I’m so sorry about that, here come with me I know a place that can repair it. Just stay close to me and hold on.” Before you could measure his words, his strong hand wrapped around yours as he pulled you through the crowded market and in to the opening of an alley.

“Hey Tony, everything all good?” He asked as the shop keeper poked his head out the side door. “Ahh! Yeah yeah yeah Monster. Everything o.k.” He pulled out a 20.00 Korean won and passed it to the shop keeper whose eyes were so large they could compete with the moon. “Ahh Monster no no no this is too much just to watch your bike.” “Tony, that bike is everything. Take it. Be well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulled out a second helmet and passed it to you. “Monster?” You asked suspiciously He chuckled looking at over his shoulders and he moved things around on his bike. “Don’t be alarmed it’s just a nickname you may call me Woo. Now helmet on and hold on tight to me.” You gasped softly and bit the corner of your lip as you watched his ass when he threw his leg over the side of his motorcycle and straddled it. You were still standing there in awe of this mass of man. “Are you coming or what, you’re not afraid are you?” he said over his shoulder, you could see the slightly corner of a smirk on his face under the helmet before the snapped the visor down. This trip was the year of the ‘Fuck Its’ so hoping on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle was par for the course; you didn’t mean to, but you moaned slightly as your arms wrapped around his robust frame. You squealed and squeezed tighter as the bike came to a roaring start and accelerated at a high speed turning out of the alley and on to the main strip. You could feel his body tighten and flex as he laughed at your reaction; a quick seven-minute ride later and you pulled up along a strip of business in a part of the city you’ve only explored once.

“First thing’s first, let’s get you a temporary bag, I can tell you by your expression you’re really attached to that one so just throwing it away isn’t an option.” Again, taking your hand, he led you into a little shop full of just bags of various sizes and purses, coin purses and wallets of all types. You selected a cute bag about the same size as the one that was damaged, a new backpack and a wallet you’d been meaning to replace. “When we go up to the counter, let me handle everything.” He said looking at you. Walking up to the counter everything came up to roughly 50.00 dong. “That is 50 dongs.” The shopkeeper said eyeing you. “Seriously Sandy, 50 Dong, for all three. I know you can do better than that.” Sandy scoffed loudly and rolled her eyes at Woo. “No, You! No Discount! 50 dong, matter of fact price went up 55 dong now. Pay me or leave.” “Sandy, Thực sự, chúng tôi là bạn.” Woo said in flawless Vietnamese “Chúng tôi không phải là bạn connard!” “Wow! Sandy, an asshole really. Are you really still mad at me for going out with your cousin, that was last year?! Now come on, I’ll give you 35 for everything, plus I’m going next door to see the old man to get my friend here bag repaired, and you know I will tip well because he does such an amazing job. Come on Sandy you can’t hold this grudge for forever.” “Are you really going to see Papa??” Sandy asked with a scowl still heavily plastered on her face; Woo held out the damage bag to her to inspect, she carefully took it from him and examined it in here hands before laying it out on the counter and turning it over. “Hmm. It’s well used got some spots fraying towards the ends, cut strap, did the corner kids get you?” She spoke in your direction, eyes still roaming over the bag. “Yeah they ran past so quickly I don’t even know how they manage to cut it and not cut me as well.” “Papa can fix it, might take a day two days max. Depending on what he’s working on now he maybe able to fix tonight, if not by the end of the day tomorrow he should have it finished. Do you know this asshole?” Sandy pointed at Woo who was standing at another counter looking at wallets. “Ahh no actually I don’t, he just saw the kids steal my bag and got them to give it back to me and said that he knew where I could go to get it fixed is all.” Sandy scoffed again as Woo tossed a wallet with a chain on the counter next to your items. “I’ll give you 40 for everything.” He winked at Sandy as he slid two bills to her; she snatched up the bills and muttered ‘connard’ once against as she rang in the sale. The two of you made small talk as you transferred items from your damaged bag to the new one you just purchased. You learned that her grandfather, father and uncle ran the seamstress shop next door and her mother and sister the dry cleaner next to it. After dropping off the bag, Woo offered to take you around the city and then dinner and you decided to take him up on his offer.

You sped through the streets of Da Nang visiting all the non touristy areas that everyone that had advised you not to visit; half of your instincts were screaming ‘no this isn’t safe’ while the other half was saying ‘no it’s cool we trust this guy’ but was it your instincts or lust talking? Over dinner you learned that he was a well known well trusted photo journalist, who’s work had been published in National Geographic, The Smithsonian, Architect Digest as well as seen on the Travel channel and Discovery Channel. You two swapped tales as to how you both wound up in Vietnam at this point in your lives, you having had an epic fuck this I’m out moment and him half working/half sabbatical. You allowed him to do something you never let anyone do, he fed you. He took his time when ordering and explained everything that he ordered and using a pair of chopsticks and a spoon fed you Bun Cha, Banh beo, Thit Kho, Bahn xeo stuffed with shrimp, and Bun rieu. Seeing him still damp from sweat, hair up in a top knot and being so delicate and gingerly in the feed of you made your insides quiver. The way he licked his lips, slurped in noodles and soup and suck crab out of the shell made you wonder just what that would feel like on your pussy, the mere thought of it made you squeeze your thighs tighter together and bite the inside of your cheeks to stifle a moan. If given the opportunity you didn’t see yourself not fucking him.

Over the flickering candlelight and full stomachs, the conversation was almost as delicious as the meal it self. “Do you know that you have the most gorgeous eyes?” You almost choked on your green tea, as \the compliment struck you so off guard. He chuckled at you, before picking up a cloth napkin and gently dabbing your mouth and chin. “Truth be told its not just your eyes that have my attention, and please excuse me for being so forward but, watching your lips slide off my chopsticks all night has me so fucking hard right now.” He leaned back in his chair jus as cool and confident as ever and took a long pull off of his beer. Meanwhile you were sitting there stuck. All night long you’ve been watching the tension in his arms any time he moved, the way his peck muscles would flex when he laughed, the way his laughed sounded like a thunderstorm rolling in over the cliffs, the way his lips moved when he spoke, drank, moaned after a bite of food. The moan. The first time he did it you nearly came in your shorts and it took all of your will power not to appear as utterly wrecked by it as you were; and now here he sat across from you looking like pure sin, hitting on you. You had a decision to make, to give into his antics and eventually fuck the shit out of him or to laugh it off advise him that you’d see him tomorrow maybe in order to pick up your bag. ‘This is the season of fuck it you thought to yourself.’ You’d brought condoms on your trip that you had yet to use and so you decided why not now and why not him. “You know it’s funny you mentioned lips,” you began, “ever, since I saw you suck the meat out of that crab shell whole and I couldn’t help but wonder what that would be feel like on my pussy.” It was now your turn to smirk and sip. He sputtered on his drink and you couldn’t help but laugh, it was soon cut short by how quickly he moved to your side of the table and his tongue slid into your mouth effortlessly as if it was made to always be there. He pulled away from you, dragging his lips against your cheek and up against your ear and whispered “Je tiens a vous baiser si mal. Monte avec moi.” Followed up with a trail of kisses down your jawline, over your chin and back up to your lips. “Come with me.” He spoked against your lips standing up and reaching out his hand. “My room is just upstairs on the twelfth floor, or if you want we can get back on the bike and I can take you back to your place, but one thing I’m certain of, I have a need to spend the rest of the night with you.” Between the French, his body and the way he kissed you, your juice box was beyond ready to be slurped on; you took his hand and followed him to the elevator.

Inside the elevator, his hands roamed over your body, drawing you into him more, kissing you deeply, making your mouth water and your pussy pulse. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted someone so badly and the thought of you fucking him made you beyond antsy, the door the elevator couldn’t open fast enough. Swiping the card key over the door to his suite he pushed the door open with his hip, walking the two of you backwards through the sitting area where he tossed down both of your bags and finally made your way into the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed his hands gliding over you frame. “I hate to interrupt this moment, but I need to freshen up just a little bit, want to shower with me?” His voice was low, lush and intoxicating. “Only if you allow me to go first for a few minutes, you know just a little bit of privacy.” Your words felt heady and laden as you spoke them. “Be my guess.” He replied as his eyes drifted over your frame as you got up and walked towards the bathroom. You quickly stripped down and freshen up the most important parts before calling him in to shower with you. You stood before the glass door of the shower watching him strip, his body decorated in elaborate tattoos, everyone ounce him worked out to perfection. He was truly a work of art and he was naked with a full erection just for you. Stepping in to the shower he immediately pressed you against the back of the wall as hot water cascaded off his body, his hard hot body pressing into you, the the slightly warm tiles that were still cold enough to make your nipples hard against your front, his wide thick dick pressed against your ass, he bit down on your ear; one hand found a nipple and began pinching and twisting it, making your body jolt, the other hand snaked its way between your thighs and found your throbbing swollen clit. He teased at the entrance of your opening barely inserting the first digit in, mere fraction of an inch away from your clit that so desperately wanted attention. You were panting as his mouth assaulted your neck, sucking deep hickies on to the side of it, he was still toying with the notion of stroking your clit and you let out the most desperate needy whine you could muster. “What’s the matter Baby Girl, tell me what you need.” He released your neck just long enough to ask the question and right back to sucking on it hungrily. “Touch… touch me please.” You begged. “Vous touche ou? Touch you where? Tell me?” “Touch… touch my clit PLEASE!” The pulsing of your engorged clit made you sound much more needier than you intended too. He was still teasing at your entrance, when finally, he stroked a finger over it; a shudder of pleasure tore through you and made your body jerk. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so wound up and in need, you’ve never nearly came from first contact before until that moment. He re-positioned both hands, moving over to your other breast and nipple, he now maneuvered his hand so that his thumb was over your clit and two fingers slid inside of you. “Gotdamn Baby Girl! Why are you so tight? I may have to put four fingers inside of you to get you ready for my cock.” As he spoke, he began to slowly move his fingers in and out of you. Your hips couldn’t help but begin to undulate to the rhythm he was setting in your pussy; he felt amazing and you couldn’t help but moan and slightly bang your head against the wet tile of the shower wall. He kissed over your neck and shoulder continuing to suck deep bruising hickies onto your skin the pleasure/pain of it made you moan louder. He quickened the pace in which he was pushing and pulling his fingers out of you as his thumb was swiping over your clit in a variety of patterns. Your legs were quivering as the fire in your belly grew bigger and bigger. His arm snaked up your torso as his hand gripped your throat. “That’s it, cum on Daddy’s fingers. Cum for Daddy Woo baby girl.” his teeth sank in to your earlobe just as his middle finger brushed against your G-spot; a shattering screaming chorus of fuck fuck fuck! Left your mouth as your body thrashed against his, his fingers never stopping their stimulation of your pleasure points. He removed his hand just in time to support your frame, your legs were weak and quivering and he used his frame to support you up against the wall. “Good Girl. Now taste yourself for me.” He slid his two fingers in your mouth and worked them back and forth on your tongue as you began to suck on them. “Suck a little more, a little harder. Good girl, just like that, keep going.” He inhaled sharply through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, you could feel his erection bob against your leg as he slid his fingers out your mouth. “Baby girl, you sucked my fingers so well, I can’t wait to feel that on my cock. But first, lets get out of this shower.” Stepping out first, he wrapped an oversize towel around his waist before pulling another one out of the warmer and wrapping it around you. He then picked you up in his arms and carried back into the bedroom and laid you down on the bed. “I’ve been waiting all night to see if you taste as sweet at you look.” He wasted no time spreading your legs and plunging his tongue into your saturated love hole as far as it could go. He swirled his tongue around clockwise, then counter clockwise seeming to hit new spots he didn’t the first time. One hand was fisted in his hair the other stuffed full of the blanket as your eyes rolled back in your head. “Woooooo fuuuuck. Daddy!” You moaned and quivered. “Damn I was wrong, you taste even sweeter, like pure sugar cane sweet, fuck I need another taste.” This time his full lips sucked on your clit with the tip of his tongue flipped up and down over it, you started to cum again immediately, you never cum this quickly back to back; you were starting to understand just why they called him Monster. You were on your back panting heavily heart racing, trying to gain composure after an orgasm that left your near numb. “Come here baby girl show me again just how good you are with that mouth.” You nodded and rolled over and got up to your hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way to him. “Merde! Tu es si beau comme ca” The sound of French rumbling from his lips made you moan as you took his dick in your mouth. A loud deep groan roared from him as he leaned forward to give your right ass cheek a firm slap; just at that moment your deep throated him and the slap made you moan again his balls, earning yet another loud groan and praise. “FUCK! Baby Girl, you’re so fucking good.” He began a steady rhythm fucking your throat, not to fast, not to slow, just the right pace and rough enough to make you gag, tear up, and dig your nails in to his thighs. “Fuck let me get my dick into you before you make cum down your throat. Stay right where you are.” He came up behind you on the bed right in front of the full mirror; you screamed and quivered on his dick as he entered you; he was so damn fucking thick and wide and long for no gotdamn reason. You moaned loudly into the mattress as your hips immediately gave into the pace of his thrust. “Look up! I want you to see how good you look when you’re getting fucked.” “Hooomygaaaawd. Yes Daddy!” You whined and stared at yourself getting some of the best dick ever. He looked like a fucking pornstar and you were nothing but his prey and you never wanted to be used as nothing but a cumslut more in your life. Strong forceful immaculate backshots were giving your body a rhythm it had never experience before, a chorus of moans, grunts and skin on skin made a melody so beautiful you would carry it with you the rest of your life. This what quality fucking felt like, you thought you’d known it in your life previously, but you now knew that was a lie. He slid out of you and pulled you back on the bed, he was on top of and back inside of you as soon as your body hit the bed. “Wrap both legs around me as high as you can.” You followed his instructions as he rolled his hips slightly pivoting with one leg while he balanced on the other, and just like two magnets connecting the head of his dick was firmly butting against your g-spot. It was like a waterfall of orgasms he never left the positions and the orgasms just kept flowing, you were literally five seconds from overstimulation, you had tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure, after checking to make sure you were okay he kept going; this time he choked you during your next orgasm and your nails dug into shoulder breaking the skin. His eyes were dilated as though the perfect drug had just hit his system as he peered down at you. “More!” He changed up the depth of the stroke just enough to get your g-spot a break and your were thankful for it. Pulling out he slightly straddle you chest as if to not put his full weight on you and dipped his cock down your throat. Gagging. Choking. Sucking. Slurping. Stroking. “FUCK! You look so good like that, Fuck I’m ready to Cum!” He slid back inside of you, finding that angle to wreck your G-spot with his strokes, “Fuckin bite my nipple and suck it!” He panted out breathlessly, giving into his request your nails raked down the other nipple and pinched it hard just as your teeth bit down on the one currently in your mouth. Fuck bellowed out of his chest as his hand gripped and shook the headboard so hard the entire bed shook. The forms of his orgasm pushed you further into the mattress.

Over the course of the next two days you spent every moment possible with Woo, both in and out of bed. When a major disaster hit Indonesia, he was the first person the networks called to document the relief efforts. You were preparing to head to the next leg of your trip which was Korea. Not wanting to make it a sad affair you both agree to have dinner and spend the night together and go separated ways in the morning. You woke up the next morning to find a note and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers on the nightstand

Baby Girl, Enjoy the room for the next few days that you’re here everything is already paid for and any new charges will be paid for on my card. Enjoy Room Service.I never expected to find you but now that I have, I know that a large part of me needs you. I’ll see you in Seoul

Yours -Monster Woo.

Part II Coming Soon

#AMBW #ambw scenarios #AMBW Smut #Monster Woo #Daddy Woo #Monster Woo Smut #Daddy Woo Smut #KHiphop #KHiphop Smut #Smut

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