jettail

[jettail]

STARTER: with @tempor4ry WHERE AND WHEN: deseo, 4am or so. post brawl.

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett was wiping down the bar at deseo, the shift nearing its end near 5 a.m. the place still had some life – the clients and other dancers moving around, nothing unusual. he was half on autopilot, dragging the rag across the counter, when he spotted kris heading his way – an unexpected friendship he’d forged with someone from the rival gang long ago, still holding strong today. however, he wasn’t expecting them, not this late, and a grin broke across his face, bright and sudden.

❛ — kris! ❜ he said, voice lighting up with enthusiasm. ❛ — what brings you out this late? you got a story to tell? ❜ jett let his eyes linger on them for a moment, head tilting slightly. the atmosphere had been off all midnight, something in the air just a little tense. maybe kris felt it too. either way, he didn’t mind the distraction.

[jettail]

STARTER: with @dcmnedbythelight WHERE AND WHEN: outside the sheriffʼs office, later 5am

. . . . . ╰──╮ the night had bled into morning. the haze of the night still clung to the air. jett was down to the last of the cleanup, the place mostly quiet now – just a few staff finishing up their closing routines, the occasional clink of glass breaking the stillness. he tossed a few more empty bottles into the bin, then stretched, rolling his shoulders back as he crouched to pick up a crumpled can from the floor. his knees ached when he straightened, a dull reminder of how long he’d been at it. that’s when he checked his phone. the screen lit up with missed calls from an unknown number. brows furrowed, he tapped into his voicemail, pressing the device to his ear. then came the voice – low, familiar, and vaguely irritated.

hey, sorry. i’m in holding. can you get me?

he sighed, rolling his shoulders back. of course he is. by now, this little game between them had become second nature. a messy, tangled fling that sparked before either of them knew they were on opposite sides of a war, but neither had the nerve to full walk away from, either.

jett peeled off the bartender gear, swapping it for a basic t shirt and jeans, tying his jacket around his waist. outside, he straddled his bike, the sunrise bleeding orange across his helmet’s visor. wind biting his knuckles. no rush – dc wasn’t going anywhere – but he got there soon enough, handled the paperwork, paid the damn bail, then waited out front – helmet still on, head low to dodge any eyes that might clock him. dc finally shuffled out, and jett’s voice cut through the quiet, dry and edged.

❛ — your reaper friends left you hanging? ❜ the words came easily, laced with something between amusement and exasperation. he didn’t bother with pleasantries, just watched him approach before he pushed off the bike, one boot hitting the pavement with purpose. he asks, ❛ — how do you plan on getting home? ❜

[jettail]

Sabrina the Teenage Witch – 3.18: Sabrina the Teenage Writer

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ there was a flicker of recognition, a shift in his expression – something lighter, easier. good to see her here. even with the club packed, some faces stood out more than others. ❛ — so many customers tonight. ❜ he exhaled, reaching for a bottle with the ease of someone who could do this in his sleep.

he moved without rush, mixing tequila with grapefruit and a sharp citrus bite, finishing it off with a red cocktail umbrella and a lime wedge perched on the rim. sliding the glass across the counter, his lips curled into an easy smirk. ❛ — does that say something like someone who knows rose? ❜ playful, but the drink spoke for itself. he tapped a finger against the counter, head tilting slightly. ❛ — are you waiting for someone? ❜

she pauses what she was doing, looking at her phone and tuning out the people around her when the figure appeared on the corner of her eyes in front of her. she looks up, head tilting slightly as the options are listed and a small smirk tugs at her lips "have you ever known me to go with anything other than something strong? i thought you would have guessed by now." she shrugs.

[jettail]

@badreviws

Hocus Pocus (1993) dir. Kenny Ortega

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he reached for a clean glass, fingers idly tracing the rim.

❛ — only if you push it too far, ❜ his voice carried a hint of amusement, like he’d seen enough nights spiral out of control to know the difference. with a tilt of his head, he added: ❛ — some drinks just make it guaranteed. ❜

he gave the glass a light spin on the counter, waiting just a beat before looking back up. ❛ — would you like something like that, sir? ❜

the  silver  zippo  had  been  contained  within  a  white  knuckled  grip  ,  as  if  it  alone  were  the  anchor  keeping  him  earth  bound  ,  or  rather  ,  keeping  him  from  flying  off  the  rails  .  the  stench  of  vermin  infiltrated  the  air  ,  under  the  lingering  scent  of  smoke  and  that  of  alcohol  coated  upon  wagging  tongues  .  one  poorly  mentioned  word  ,  and  tripp  couldn't  ,  or  wouldn't  ,  be  held  responsible  for  his  actions  .  that  is  ,  until  the  sound  of  a  familiar  cadence  echoed  a  set  of  questions  ,  drawing  and  holding  his  attention  .  ❝  wouldn't  somethin'  strong  lead  to  a  bout  of  recklessness  ?  ❞

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett let out a short chuckle, shaking his head as he quickly wiped down the counter. ❛ — canʼt blame a guy for following protocol. ❜ knowing she was gonna dance soon, he reached into the fridge beneath the bar and pulled out an energy drink, setting the green can in front of her with a light thunk. ❛ — maybe you could use something with a kick, then. a little warm-up before the real show. ❜ a slight tilt of his head toward the stage before sliding a bottle of water next to it. ❛ — and this one’s for after. can’t have you face-planting mid-spin. bad for business. ❜

there's a sly smile, brows raised, on her face when he asks her the question usually reserved for paying customers. it's probably her fault for sitting at the bar, pretending she's not actually on the clock, swinging her feet like she isn't due to be on the stage again in half an hour . . . but, sometimes she simply can't help herself from slacking off. it's like it's in her blood. her grin widens even further before she opens those lips to respond. "we're always feeling reckless, i fear." leaning forward she props her elbows on the bar, chin on balled fists. "but it's kind of mean to offer me a drink when we know i can't have one yet." out here at least.

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett recognized the answer for what it was – a clear invitation to shake something up. reckless wasn’t just strong; it was the kind of drink that had you waking up with regrets or at least a few missing memories.

he reached for the bottles without hesitation, the pour smooth, practiced. vodka, rum, gin, tequila, triple sec – a mix strong enough to make most people rethink their choices come morning. he topped it with a splash of cola and slid the glass her way with a flick of his wrist. ❛ — long island iced tea. it won’t kill you, but it’ll definitely try. ❜ he nodded.

his gaze lingered for a second, curiosity flickering beneath the usual laid-back exterior. the customer had been around for a few weeks now – long enough to not be a stranger, but not long enough for him to figure her out just yet. and jett had always been the type to wonder. ❛ — tell me, what brings you here in stratford, miss? ❜

it had only been an hour since she arrived. her attention fell upon new faces and old, and selene fluttered about like the social butterfly she was. you could also call it manipulation, being able to say what she needed to say to get a foot in the door or gather information she needed even if it were scraps. she could work with a single sentence if she were a rag journalist. nope, she's chasing a bigger story.

taking a break, she approached the bar and took a seat. she smiled at the other, somewhat familiar as a slow patron making her face and presence more known with each appearance. ❝i think i'm feeling reckless tonight. what do you suggest?❞

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett clocked the reaper insignia before the guy even settled in. nothing out of the ordinary, deseo wasn’t diablos-only, but then he recognized the face. the president. well. shit.

he swallowed that knee-jerk tension, playing it cool. professional. still, the air felt heavier, like the whole place was watching. or maybe that was just in his head. whatever. he could handle it.

some lines weren’t meant to be crossed. but he wasn’t looking to cross anything – just to keep his head attached to his body. so, really, when the president asked for something easy to swallow, the answer seemed obvious to him.

without much thought, he reached for the first thing that popped into his head. water. simple, safe, no way to screw that up. he grabbed a glass, filled it up, and slid it across the counter like it was the most natural choice in the world.

❛ — there you go. ❜ a beat. then, with a nod, ❛ — on the house. ❜ that was safe bet, right? after all, the man did say it was dealer’s choice.

" dealer's choice , darlin' . " texan accent drawled , heavy on the president's tongue whilst he perused the top shelf bottles . anything to take the edge off ⸻ nothing expensive , but god save the moron that tries to sell him anything dirt cheap . his kutte's insignia , his patches are worth nothing within the walls of deseo , not within no man's land , but he feels the sharp stares of the devils . the greedy will always bite more than they can chew . " something easy to swallow . "

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett was on his way to miss gina’s, already half-lost in the thought of his usual vanilla milkshake, when the brunette stopped him. clipboard in hand, smile dripping sweet like honey left too long in the sun. ❛ — name’s jett– ❜ he starts, then hesitates. almost corrects himself to milk, then second-guesses that too. his lips part like he’s about to say something else before he just nods, committing. ❛ — yeah, jett. ❜

she talked about the orphanage. about how a signature could make a difference. it could’ve been a trap, some well-placed sob story to bait suckers like him – but doing it for the children alone convinced him. no way in hell he’d say no to that, considering your past.

jett takes the pen without a second thought, already scrawling out milk in his usual, slightly messy handwriting. it’s only after he hands the clipboard back that it hits him – wait. would that even count? did they need, like, a real name for this?

his brows knit together for half a second before he just grins, leaning in slightly. ❛ — hope they take road names, cause that one’s mine. ❜ a small chuckle follows, a little sheepish, but not enough to take it back. the damage is done.

he could’ve asked to fix it, but was afraid to mess up again. instead, he just shifts his weight, hands tucking into his pockets, and nods towards the clipboard. ❛ — real nice thing you’re doing. not a lot of people would bother. ❜ his grin is easy, genuine, because he means it. ❛ — how many more you need? ❜

location: stratford main street status: open

sometimes,   when   the   feedback   from   the   public   dipped   a   little   bit,   it   paid   to   put   in   some   elbow   grease.   fei   wasn't   raised   like   her   husband   was,   even   though   she   had   become   accustomed.   it   wouldn't   kill   her   to   stand   in   the   sun   for   a   while,   a   clipboard   in   her   manicured   hand.   but   she   looked   out   of   place,   and   the   realization   was   like   a   sinking   box   in   the   water.   years   ago,   she   could   walk   the   street   and   get   little   less   attention   than   a   nod   from   someone   who   liked   the   way   her   ponytail   swayed   when   she   walked.   now,   even   those   who   clearly   did   not   want   to   get   dragged   into   signing   whatever   petition   she   had   couldn't   not   look   at   her.   that's   fei   riordan,   isn't   it?

“hi!   hello!   sorry   to   bother   you!”   fei   flagged   the   next   pedestrian   down   and   half-jogged   up   to   them,   wedges   clacking   against   the   cement.   “you   have   a   minute,   right?   for   the   children?”   she   gave   her   sweetest   smile,   like   honey   dripping   down   the   sides   of   its   jar.   the   clipboard   she   shoved   towards   them   was   gathering   signatures   for   a   budget   increase   for   the   local   orphanage.   of   course,   her   husband   could   do   it   now.   all   it   would   take   is   one   signature   of   his   own.   but,   the   voters   liked   it   when   they   felt   like   they   got   to   choose. 

fei   scanned   the   person   in   front   of   her.   she'd   learned   a   long   time   ago   to   reduce   them   to   numbers   and   opportunity,   so   much   so   it   was   hard   to   see   faces   now.   “i'm   fei,   by   the   way!   what's   your   name?”

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ jett should probably ask questions – should probably think this through, but thinking was never his strong suit, and samiye knew that better than anyone.

he rocks back on his heels, gaze flicking to the truck, the slightly open gate, then back to her. the pocketknife, the split lip, the way she looks too at ease for someone about to do something reckless. yeah, this was trouble. but it was her trouble, which meant he was already in.

❛ — you say that like you weren’t planning on dragging me into it from the start. ❜ his grin is easy, wide, the kind that says fuck it, why not? before he even opens his mouth again. ❛ — how many we talkin’? ❜ he asks, already moving toward the truck like the fool he is.

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: could be at the diablos party, down the block from the reapers, etc.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: open to anyone ( capped at 0/4 )

"Oh, C'mon. Who's gonna know? Nobody's gonna know." Pocketknife out, shoulders pressed tight to the bricks at her back, Sami flicked a glance north while she used the open blade to clean her nails. "It should be easy." Debatable—But it should be fun.

Fuck, she needed fun.

She'd already done a round at Deseo's, already jumped in on a blunt. Already bloodied her knuckles and earned a split lip (that one was surprising, if not stupid on their part) when a patch bunny decided to get tough, thinking she was big shit just because she'd screwed her way through a few guys in the club.

Between the strippers, the quick smoke, and the savagery she should've been having the night of her life, and yet... Nothing. She was empty. Numb.

Sami had a feeling she knew why, too, but considering she couldn't do anything about that yet, she shoved off the wall instead, her ruined mouth carved with a vulpine smile. "Shit goes south, just blame it on me." Wouldn't be the first time she took the fall for something. At least this time the accusations would be honest.

[jettail]

STARTER: open — capping at ( 06 / 06 ) WHERE AND WHEN: deseo, around 8pm or so.

. . . . . ╰──╮ the music is loud, the air thick with smoke and laughter, the kind of night that promises trouble before it even really begins. deseo is packed, the bar drowning in orders, and jett is in his element – moving fast, pouring drinks, trading easy grins with familiar faces.

he leans against the counter, forearms resting on the polished wood, and looks at the person across from him. his smile is lazy, teasing, the kind that makes it seem like he’s got all the time in the world when, really, he doesn’t.

❛ — so, what’s it gonna be tonight? ❜ he asks, tapping his fingers against the bar top. ❛ — something strong? something smooth? or are we feeling reckless? ❜

[jettail]

WI HA JOON as “K” BAD AND CRAZY (2021) dir. Yoo Seon Dong

[jettail]

The Faks are buffing, and I do not trust them to make that a solo job.

THE BEAR | 3.05: CHILDREN

[jettail]

Apo Nattawin wears Dior for GQ Hype

[jettail]

. . . . . ╰──╮ a cherry-cola milkshake sweating in the summer heat, a cat curled up on a leather jacket, beer bottle caps sewn into a crossbody bag – each one a souvenir from a place barely remembered.

in texas, 𝐉𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐑𝐈 is known to most as 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊. he have been riding with the diablos for 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒. he is originally from 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐎 and the 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 is known to be very 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇 & 𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 but the other club members will tell you he is 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂 & 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. as the years go by, he have gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. he is usually at 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐎, working as a 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑. he rarely ever drive a car but when he do 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 by 𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒 is usually heard blasting.

i. musings ii. edits iii. pinterest

basic infos.

∙ nicknames — to close people, he is still called jett, but others call him jeff when they can't pronounce his thai name right. the gang nicknamed him milk, a nod to the ever-present milkshake in his hand and the cat that follows him like a shadow.

∙ age — 29, born april 7.

∙ ethnicity — thai, southeast asian.

∙ languages — english, thai, chinese & italian.

∙ sexuality — homosexual (& bottom).

headcanons.

∙ he’s got a reputation for being a big eater, always the first to dig in and the last to put his fork down. milkshakes are his true weakness of it all – cherry-cola, vanilla, and passion fruit, to be exact. if you spot a few empty milkshake cups on the asphalt, chances are he passed through not long ago.

∙ he has a black and white cat that he always carries in his bag when riding with the gang, which is why he’s always at the back – the last one of the bike line or in the truck. though he never officially adopted the cat, it never stops following him. they say the cat was the one who adopted him. and no, the little one hasnʼt gotten a name yet.

∙ the front of his bag is covered in soda and beer bottle caps, a small collection from his travels with the gang, each one a quiet souvenir of the places they've been. he tells people he’s collecting them for a reason, that one day, when he finds his sister again, he’ll lay them out in front of her like a map of everywhere he’s been without her. every cap a story, every story a promise that he never forgot. a colorful, tainted map of the roads he could take again, this time with her.

background.

THE CITY OF THOSE LEFT BEHIND. reno was never meant to be a place to settle – it was a city of passing faces, of gamblers chasing luck and immigrants searching for a foothold. for jett jirapat chakri, it was where his mother landed after leaving thailand, where she remarried a man who never wanted a stepson. his real father stayed behind, a distant memory blurred by time, and in his place came a man who looked at him like a mistake. jett was never enough, never strong enough, never disciplined enough, never his. mistakes were met with sharp words and sharper hands, and the house never felt like home – just another battlefield he had to survive.

BROKEN HOME. his stepfather had expectations, dreams of a child who carried his blood, a son who could be everything jett wasn’t. so when his mother gave birth to a girl instead, the man walked away without a second thought, leaving behind a broken home and a woman who drowned herself in liquor to forget. his mother was never truly there, too lost in her own sorrow to care, so jett stepped up. he shielded his sister from the worst of it, held her close when the world felt too cruel. he told her stories about the life they’d have far from reno. he swore that one day, it’d be them against the world. at least, that’s what he believed.

THE SOUND OF THE WHEELS. but then the motorcycles came. they roared through the streets like they owned the world, untamed, fearless, free. they were everything he wasn’t allowed to be. the temptation was too strong to ignore. when the diablos gave him a chance, he took it, swearing he’d come back for her once he made something of himself. only, he never got the chance, until then.

HI, NONG. every year, he sent his sister letters, hoping to keep his promise, but they never reached her hands. his mother, bitter and empty, kept them hidden, swallowing his words before they could ever be read. jett thought she was ignoring him. mew thought he had abandoned her. one more cruel twist in a life already full of them.

HIS WORTH. proving himself to the diablos was another battle. he wasn’t the biggest, the loudest, or the strongest, but he was relentless. he threw himself into everything – into fights, into rides, into reckless choices that should have killed him more times than he could count. he was always the first to help, to step up, to take the fall for someone else. loyalty ran deep in his bones, even when it should have been self-preservation. one day, it was going to cost him his life. maybe he knew that. maybe he didn’t care.

WAS I TOO LATE? when he finally came back, older, more sure of himself, ready to make things right – his little sister was gone. he searched, but reno swallowed people whole, and she had learned how to disappear just like he had.

THE MILK. so he did what he had always done: he kept moving. newton became his world. the diablos became his family. at deseo, he worked the bar, a fixture of the club’s nightlife, quick with a drink and quicker with a joke. he had a reputation – foolish, charming, too trusting for his own good – but respect wasn’t something he had to chase anymore. he wasn’t just a ghost trying to prove himself. he was here, he belonged, even if he still felt like he had to earn it every day.

kept connections.

∙ mew wanphen — sibling.

note: beyond these, iʼm open for anything else. we can combine the connections [ tumblr / discord ] or we can freely develop them on dash. honestly, up to you! you can assume the connections but they need to be in line with both characters.

ooc.

wen, brazilian, he/him.

english isnʼt my first language and this is my first foreign roleplaying, just letting it know in case the mistakes are inevitably noticeable so bear with me. also, donʼt ever feel the need to match the length of my writings, either way is appreciated by me! <3

discord — wondy#2146 ( never feel intimidated to reach to me btw. iʼm just a silly player :p )

[jettail]

tags dump !

© all of apo nattawin’s gifs used are made by sebegifs c: