![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
(closed) painting up a promise
May. 10th, 2017 02:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
truejudgment[ After a enlightening conversation with Futaba, Sae figures she should hear the story straight from the source. A hikikomori can't go to school, she had said. At the time, Sae hadn't wanted to press her. From what she heard, Futaba was an incredibly bright child, with the aptitude and grades to enter any university of her choice. Akira had confirmed it during her interrogation.
Smart enough to not only know the cognitive world, but also to ask the Thieves to steal her heart... it had been almost impossible for Sae to imagine, but she's starting to think she understands. Maybe.
She arrives at her usual time, around 18:00, and stays a while to accommodate Futaba's request. Instead of sitting at the bar, she's chosen one of the booths, and she's even sampling the curry this round. Mm, it's better than she remembered.
Upon seeing Futaba, she closes her laptop and sets her curry plate aside. ]
Hi. I'm sorry if my request seemed urgent... I just figured, it would be easier to talk in-person.
Smart enough to not only know the cognitive world, but also to ask the Thieves to steal her heart... it had been almost impossible for Sae to imagine, but she's starting to think she understands. Maybe.
She arrives at her usual time, around 18:00, and stays a while to accommodate Futaba's request. Instead of sitting at the bar, she's chosen one of the booths, and she's even sampling the curry this round. Mm, it's better than she remembered.
Upon seeing Futaba, she closes her laptop and sets her curry plate aside. ]
Hi. I'm sorry if my request seemed urgent... I just figured, it would be easier to talk in-person.
[closed] our love could be forever
Jan. 12th, 2017 05:23 pmstefanged[Life must've decided to spit in his face. Stefan can't think of any other reason his head feels so foggy - the last thing he remembers is Alaric & Jo's wedding. He remembers the hope in his former teacher's face; he remembers the joy of the bridal march music; and he remembers - blood. He instinctively reaches for his stomach and peers down. He can't see a scar, let alone any sign of injury.
Something must've hit him like an eighteen-wheeler. It must've, because Stefan Salvatore doesn't get sick.
(He does, because he's human and mortal, but not that kind of sick. He took the flu shot and everything!!)
His heart sinks when he watches the world crumble beneath his feet and reform into his bedroom. His old, dusty attic bedroom, with Elena sitting at the foot of his bed. This is a dream, and she must've pulled him close to inhabit his conscious. He also finds himself not caring. So he rushes over to her, because yeah, right now? He thinks he'll wake up and see her when his eyes open again.]
Hey. [His voice feels breathless as he rushes into her arms. He feels apologetic too, even though he can't quite pinpoint why he would be.] Hey, I'm sorry.
Something must've hit him like an eighteen-wheeler. It must've, because Stefan Salvatore doesn't get sick.
(He does, because he's human and mortal, but not that kind of sick. He took the flu shot and everything!!)
His heart sinks when he watches the world crumble beneath his feet and reform into his bedroom. His old, dusty attic bedroom, with Elena sitting at the foot of his bed. This is a dream, and she must've pulled him close to inhabit his conscious. He also finds himself not caring. So he rushes over to her, because yeah, right now? He thinks he'll wake up and see her when his eyes open again.]
Hey. [His voice feels breathless as he rushes into her arms. He feels apologetic too, even though he can't quite pinpoint why he would be.] Hey, I'm sorry.
stefangedFind a character's thread and tag it! ♥
- This is a free post for just about anything. Gimme a scenario (even if we haven't planned one out), link me to a picture prompt, send some catchy lyrics, or just toss a character my way and we'll see what happens.
- Games / canon points / AUs are listed for prompt ideas. If they don't apply to you, ignore them and we'll work on something new.
- CROSSOVERS AND AUS ARE FANTASTIC. Crossover AUs?? Even better. Some of my characters have crossover AU storylines already, but feel free to give me more.
- Backtagging forever and ever.
- Seriously: if I drop a thread here, you're more than welcome to PM me! Chances are, it got lost in tag mountain.
- My RP wishlist is here (in case you need other prompt ideas).
[closed] hello friends i am here now
Feb. 21st, 2016 01:33 amofficiallymortified[His father was on business in Locke City, New Jersey, so of course Dima came along. Technically, he wasn't an employee of Dalv, but his father liked to drag him along on business to show him what his dad does, and what it was actually like to work in business. He was, essentially, an honorary employee.
But most importantly, Locke City is, to Dima's understanding, where all this Numbered nonsense began. This was ground zero. And as he wanders through streets littered with rubble, debris, and buildings in utter collapse, it really shows. He'd seen this place on the news, he knows how much destruction it has suffered.
His father had told him to wait outside while he handled the actual details of the construction contract he was striking up to try and help rebuild the city. Which probably meant that this was a deal with the mafia, and he didn't want Dima to know for safety's sake. Not like he didn't know already about all of his father's dirty business.
But he was fine with it. It gave him this opportunity to walk around and witness the city where it all began. He'd only been numbered for a few months, but surely this place would hold more information for him than Moscow.]
But most importantly, Locke City is, to Dima's understanding, where all this Numbered nonsense began. This was ground zero. And as he wanders through streets littered with rubble, debris, and buildings in utter collapse, it really shows. He'd seen this place on the news, he knows how much destruction it has suffered.
His father had told him to wait outside while he handled the actual details of the construction contract he was striking up to try and help rebuild the city. Which probably meant that this was a deal with the mafia, and he didn't want Dima to know for safety's sake. Not like he didn't know already about all of his father's dirty business.
But he was fine with it. It gave him this opportunity to walk around and witness the city where it all began. He'd only been numbered for a few months, but surely this place would hold more information for him than Moscow.]
stefanged[If there was one thing in the world Stefan truly hated, it was a pair-up class partner project. He usually couldn't choose his partner; he usually did most of the work; AND it was a waste of his time. "Class projects mimic the real world! They teach you valuable lessons!"
What valuable lesson, Stefan wanted to ask as he stared down at the assignment sheet. The valuable lesson of working with Ms. Gilbert? The one person in the entire grade he wanted to avoid? It was getting harder every year, especially since they were on the same road to class valedictorian.
He shouldn't have these intense, burning emotions in his head just by looking at her. She wasn't Muslim. She wasn't Jordanian. She wasn't the kind of girl he could bring home, and well - popular girls didn't date nerds. That would've been a bigger issue in their high school circuit. Stefan wasn't popular, nor was he quite unpopular. He hung in that weird middle tier, reserved for nerds who had not-typical skillsets. Like his.
They were given the rest of class to move and discuss the project, so Stefan pulled her towards a secluded corner of the room. He sighed, tapping the paper.]
So... how should we go about dividing this? 50-50?
What valuable lesson, Stefan wanted to ask as he stared down at the assignment sheet. The valuable lesson of working with Ms. Gilbert? The one person in the entire grade he wanted to avoid? It was getting harder every year, especially since they were on the same road to class valedictorian.
He shouldn't have these intense, burning emotions in his head just by looking at her. She wasn't Muslim. She wasn't Jordanian. She wasn't the kind of girl he could bring home, and well - popular girls didn't date nerds. That would've been a bigger issue in their high school circuit. Stefan wasn't popular, nor was he quite unpopular. He hung in that weird middle tier, reserved for nerds who had not-typical skillsets. Like his.
They were given the rest of class to move and discuss the project, so Stefan pulled her towards a secluded corner of the room. He sighed, tapping the paper.]
So... how should we go about dividing this? 50-50?
[closed] it had to be aliens
Jan. 23rd, 2016 12:51 amstefanged[Sleepovers at the Alesci home were standard fare: Olette invites a bunch of friends, and they proceed to be loud until the wee hours of the morning. Stefan was more than used to their presence - and well, even teenagers need a little extra supervision.
The night was all set to be a peaceful one. Olette had baked cookies; they were marathoning movies on TV; and Stefan was curled up in the adjacent room with a book and a good cup of tea. Then the network had to send out a post about an alien attack downtown and well....
So much for that book. Stefan reaches for his car keys almost immediately. To Olette and his friends, he calls out,] Hey, I'm heading out. [Like it's an afterthought, rather than something he'd carefully calculated the second he saw the post:] Marinette? Any way you could help me out? It shouldn't take long.
[He hopes. He really, really hopes, because just once, he'd prefer a book and tea to whatever building the Vermini monsters were after.]
The night was all set to be a peaceful one. Olette had baked cookies; they were marathoning movies on TV; and Stefan was curled up in the adjacent room with a book and a good cup of tea. Then the network had to send out a post about an alien attack downtown and well....
So much for that book. Stefan reaches for his car keys almost immediately. To Olette and his friends, he calls out,] Hey, I'm heading out. [Like it's an afterthought, rather than something he'd carefully calculated the second he saw the post:] Marinette? Any way you could help me out? It shouldn't take long.
[He hopes. He really, really hopes, because just once, he'd prefer a book and tea to whatever building the Vermini monsters were after.]
Zi's RP Wishlist
Jan. 10th, 2016 08:58 pmstefangedAKA Zi's RP bucket list! These are a smattering of prompts, crosscanon CR, and canon-specific scenarios that I would do serious things to thread out. Characters in bold are people I play. (/ denotes romantic relationships, + denotes platonic.)
( Cut for length. )
( Cut for length. )
[closed] tale as old as time
Jan. 10th, 2016 02:18 amneverbatman[After their near disaster of a gala, Damian knew he had to make it up to Midii. Christmas was the best possible way to make it up, he figured. Gifts were a normal part of the holiday season, and he'd gone out of his way to shower his friends with material goods, whether they wanted it or not.
Some of his friends had resigned themselves to the inevitable and asked for reasonable gifts - Jai, for example, got season tickets for the local basketball team, and Iris got one of those fancy Fitbits that could (reasonably) calculate a speedster's rate.
Midii, though, needed something better. After much deliberation and arguing with a local calligrapher + screen printer, Damian ordered two things: one, for Midii to come meet him on the second floor of a coffee shop that his family owned, and two, a set of custom-printed Arabic calligraphy t-shirts. Nothing religious, for the Muslims who might cry cultural appropriation, but cultural sayings & shapes.
He's not expecting her super early, but he's looking a little nervous as he stares down at the gift bag he'd wrapped the latter in. Just once, he wishes the coffee shop could sell boosts of confidence with their lattes. He'd buy their entire stock out.]
Some of his friends had resigned themselves to the inevitable and asked for reasonable gifts - Jai, for example, got season tickets for the local basketball team, and Iris got one of those fancy Fitbits that could (reasonably) calculate a speedster's rate.
Midii, though, needed something better. After much deliberation and arguing with a local calligrapher + screen printer, Damian ordered two things: one, for Midii to come meet him on the second floor of a coffee shop that his family owned, and two, a set of custom-printed Arabic calligraphy t-shirts. Nothing religious, for the Muslims who might cry cultural appropriation, but cultural sayings & shapes.
He's not expecting her super early, but he's looking a little nervous as he stares down at the gift bag he'd wrapped the latter in. Just once, he wishes the coffee shop could sell boosts of confidence with their lattes. He'd buy their entire stock out.]
[closed] my soul is from elsewhere
Mar. 14th, 2015 02:53 amstefanged[Luceti did not like Stefan, and in turn, Stefan didn't like it much either. While the running electricity and water was adequate, and he had sufficed a "decent" existence, it wasn't home. He had wandered the US for nearly a century. He had seen a great many things, and yet none of it had prepared him for this.
Instead of retreating into his shell, though, he had decided to take the plunge and attempt to befriend people. The werewolves from La Push hadn't ended well - Stefan accidentally mistook them for dinner - but for the most part, he had created some kind of social circle that... well, it was certainly better than the one he had at home.
When was the last time he was actually meeting friends for dinner? Guy friends, and not the random shopping sprees Caroline would drag him out on? He didn't remember. He really, really couldn't.
So, tonight, as he stands in the center of the village, awaiting Luke's arrival, he glances down at his magic journal every few seconds. People are always posting on it, and while not much pings him enough to respond, their stories are entertaining enough to keep him distracted while he waits.]
Instead of retreating into his shell, though, he had decided to take the plunge and attempt to befriend people. The werewolves from La Push hadn't ended well - Stefan accidentally mistook them for dinner - but for the most part, he had created some kind of social circle that... well, it was certainly better than the one he had at home.
When was the last time he was actually meeting friends for dinner? Guy friends, and not the random shopping sprees Caroline would drag him out on? He didn't remember. He really, really couldn't.
So, tonight, as he stands in the center of the village, awaiting Luke's arrival, he glances down at his magic journal every few seconds. People are always posting on it, and while not much pings him enough to respond, their stories are entertaining enough to keep him distracted while he waits.]
[closed] Gotta do the cooking by the book
Feb. 14th, 2015 01:17 pmdancingfists[The air felt different today. Senel couldn't quite explain it - after all, Werites Beacon was a floating island. It was entirely possible that the Legacy had shifted towards another part of the world. Entirely possible... and not the proper explanation. It couldn't be, because it didn't explain the unsettling feeling in his stomach.
He and Shirley were out today to run errands. Typical brother-sister stuff. They'd get groceries, put them back in the kitchen, and then treat themselves to hot chocolatebecause it was kinda cold today.
Except, while they're paying for groceries, someone inevitably recognizes Senel. Not as a Coliseum champion, mind you, or as an Alliance Marine. Oh, no, they ask him for advice on chocolate chip cookies. Senel gives it, absentmindedly, before turning to stare at the woman as she leaves the store.]
Uh.
[He glances over at Shirley.] Wait, why're people asking me this kinda stuff?
He and Shirley were out today to run errands. Typical brother-sister stuff. They'd get groceries, put them back in the kitchen, and then treat themselves to hot chocolate
Except, while they're paying for groceries, someone inevitably recognizes Senel. Not as a Coliseum champion, mind you, or as an Alliance Marine. Oh, no, they ask him for advice on chocolate chip cookies. Senel gives it, absentmindedly, before turning to stare at the woman as she leaves the store.]
Uh.
[He glances over at Shirley.] Wait, why're people asking me this kinda stuff?
lockwouldnt[Some legacies were a burden. The stupid Founders' Council - excuse him, Town Council - was no exception. Ever since Mom had taken over as Town Mayor, various members had "wondered" if Tyler would join their ranks.
He didn't know why they asked. The answer was always no. He didn't want to further taint his name - not the Lockwood name, his - by associating with the same people who wanted to eliminate supernatural threats. In public, they ruled over Mystic Falls with an iron fist, distracting the populace with stupid parties that celebrated a war that the town kind of lost? (He knew about Confederate pride. He really did, but they DID lose the Civil War...)
Then, of course, his freshman year of college had changed all that. Matt had somehow gotten an offer as an intern - and like hell Tyler would let him wander into the lions' den alone. It's the Town Council! (At least Mom was happy about this decision.)
So Tyler's casually waiting for his best friend outside City Hall, keeping himself preoccupied with his phone since he arrived earlylike a loser like the good friend he is. He even brought coffee for the both of them! He figures, this way, their first day can at least start on the right foot.]
He didn't know why they asked. The answer was always no. He didn't want to further taint his name - not the Lockwood name, his - by associating with the same people who wanted to eliminate supernatural threats. In public, they ruled over Mystic Falls with an iron fist, distracting the populace with stupid parties that celebrated a war that the town kind of lost? (He knew about Confederate pride. He really did, but they DID lose the Civil War...)
Then, of course, his freshman year of college had changed all that. Matt had somehow gotten an offer as an intern - and like hell Tyler would let him wander into the lions' den alone. It's the Town Council! (At least Mom was happy about this decision.)
So Tyler's casually waiting for his best friend outside City Hall, keeping himself preoccupied with his phone since he arrived early
[closed] Sorely Mythtaken Identity
Nov. 16th, 2014 02:01 amstefanged[When most people called on a babysitter, Stefan wasn't usually on the short list. He couldn't blame them, either: as much as he believed in people and tried to stay positive, he tended to wallow in his thoughts a little too long. Still, a favor was a favor. If Buffy asked him to jump, he'd probably ask how high (before, you know, making sure she wouldn't stake him).
This afternoon, Dawn had taken him - dragged, really - to the mall. Every teenager's favorite hangout, and the stuff of Stefan's nightmares. Not because most girls oogled him when they thought he wasn't looking (who were they fooling?); not because Twilight passed for popular literature; and not because of the crowds that threatened to push him if he stood still too long.
Nah, it was just irritating that every cashier seemed to think he was Dawn's older brother. They didn't look THAT alike, did they? The first time, it was cute. By the fifth, he was starting to think he should change his last name.
Teasingly, to Dawn:] You think we should tell Buff about her new kid brother?
This afternoon, Dawn had taken him - dragged, really - to the mall. Every teenager's favorite hangout, and the stuff of Stefan's nightmares. Not because most girls oogled him when they thought he wasn't looking (who were they fooling?); not because Twilight passed for popular literature; and not because of the crowds that threatened to push him if he stood still too long.
Nah, it was just irritating that every cashier seemed to think he was Dawn's older brother. They didn't look THAT alike, did they? The first time, it was cute. By the fifth, he was starting to think he should change his last name.
Teasingly, to Dawn:] You think we should tell Buff about her new kid brother?
