#but water is clear. not in fact blue like in cartoons. so that does not make sense

[codgod]

i know gillion is quite literally dying but i do still think it’s funny that they just decided to run with the fact that he turned red from drinking so many health potions. like if he drinks enough orange juice will he turn orange. is this just a thing he can do

[razorsharpteeth]

TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Shan @plunderwater and Samir @razorsharpteeth LOCATION: WR community center. SUMMARY: Shan shows up to Samir's volunteer position and offers an agreement of sorts. Samir is suspicious, but takes her business card. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Shan watched her prey with keen eyes. It took her a while to find him, but she was patient. In her line of work, patience was everything. It wasn’t enough that she could gather all the relevant information she needed. It wasn’t enough that she found out where they lived or at least where they usually were, places they frequented, jobs they needed to go to, etcetera etcetera. It wasn’t enough that she knew their strengths and weaknesses, how to take them down if need be, what strategies to employ to make sure they wouldn’t be the last. At the end of the day, she had to make sure not to spook her quarry. The hunt doesn’t always have to end in blood. Theirs or hers. 

Despite all that, Shan admitted to herself, as she continued watching the man do some unnecessary volunteer work, that she in fact had yet to gather all the relevant information she needed. She knew the man lived somewhere in Harborside but he also had a lot of irregular jobs that none of them seemed vital enough to be scouted. All she knew was that he was someone interesting and that he was a volunteer. What kind of people volunteer this much? Sinners. Actual or not, all fueled by guilt. This man definitely reeked of guilt. But what kind? The one that directly leads to death? Or the one born from inaction, from regret? Hopefully not the one that leads to a fight… I just had my hair done.

His hands were dirty. In a metaphorical and literal sense, actual dirt lining his fingernails. The blood on his hands wasn’t there, at least not any more, but sometimes when he saw his hands from the corner of his eyes he swore it was there. Dripping, wet and slick and sticky. Samir ignored it, whenever such visions plagued him, and continued his work. It was better to dirty your hands in a community garden and to scrub them after, to try and just make something grow, keep it alive with touch, water and care. Weeding was meticulous, dull work — but it was what he thought he deserved, what he thought was best for him to do with those damned, bloody hands.

He was fatigued, truth be told. The blue moon had taken its toll. He’d awoken foggier than usual and when whispers of the last fight had reached him, it had become clear it was because of the tranquilizers they’d used on Razor. Worse were the whispers of what he’d done in that fight. Samir didn’t much care about the injuries he’d sustained, dealt with them he always did – quietly, messily – and now just did his side job. The one meant to cleanse his soul. (It wasn’t working so far.)  He glanced up, at some point, his hands itching from the weeds. There was a woman there, and he offered a smile, a small nod of his head.

Shan returned the man’s smile with one of her own. Despite the fact that he was looking a little tired and dirty, the selkie still thought he seemed…tasty. Most likely not the appropriate word but close enough. She wondered how ‘dirty’ he could truly be, unintentionally biting her lower lip. Or maybe it was intentional? It was hard to know these days, especially in her line of work. What she does know is that the smiles exchanged between them was just the opportunity she needed to broach the unfamiliarity that distanced their pair. “Hello, handsome,” she purred. Almost literally. Thank the heavens she wasn’t a cartoon wolf. ‘Awooga’ was a bad first line. “How’s the weather down there?” Not a better first line but it should do.

“Call me Aika,” she tried to give him her hand. Like an old-timey lady. From an era mostly forgotten. Unlike his, hers was clean and dainty, as if it had never seen any semblance of hard work. Perhaps not in the context of every day blue collar experiences, but make no mistake Shan’s hands have seen more hard work than they let on. If you ever get to know what she means. Once he was close enough, she’d whisper softly to him, so just the two of them would hear her. And also lure him in with her scent, with an implied intimate sensation. 

“I think you may need my help, and I just so happen to be interested in some information you have,” Shan winked, despite the fact that she wasn’t even quite sure if she could help him with anything more than a few hours of delight. “In other words — you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.” And maybe we can do more together.

People flitted in and out of the community center all of the time, so he was hardly suspicious of a new face joining the fray. Some of them didn’t want to speak, some of them did. Some just wanted to be like him, crouch down until their muscles soured and weed the community garden in the hopes it might also make their own life a little cleaner. When she called him handsome, though, Samir was a little surprised. “Hello,” he said in return, not tacking on any complimentary word in return. “Well enough. Little less humid, I guess.”

He got up when she held out her hand, though. Once upon a time he’d been taught to be polite, to have manners. Working with high-paying tourists had made him all the more mannered, if the situation asked for it. Still, his handshake was somewhat rough and clumsy, a representative of his person. “I’m Samir. Did you —” want to help?

But she told him what she wanted before he could finish his question, though he couldn’t say it was entirely clear to him what she was hinting to. He was taken back, for a moment, to the person who’d brought him into the Grit Pit. I can help. He wiped his hands on his jeans, shrugged. “Don’t know if you can help me. I don’t really need any help and, besides …” Another shrug. “I’m not sure what I have that I can give you. Maybe you can be a little more clear.” If he’d not been in the town he was in, with the things he’d seen, he’d think she was maybe a bit confused, lost in the head — but Samir knew better now.

He was not interested. At least that’s what Shan thought at first. But then again, everyone’s always a little bit interested. She justified his lack of a flattering response with the gardening and the location. Maybe he just didn’t hear her call him handsome. Maybe he was just too tired from all the hard work that he didn’t catch up on it. Maybe he just needed more subtle prodding, like an experienced fish waiting on the bait to move so that it may chase after it. 

At least he shook her hand. Rather clumsily, though. Maybe even a little too rough than most handshakes. Was he just awkward with these things? Maybe he just wasn’t getting enough compliments to make them a normal thing. Poor attractive manly man. “Samir? Do people call you Sam? Because I think I might prefer Samir more,” Shan gave him a quaint chuckle. She’s met more Sams than Samirs. It was like a breath of fresh air to her.

“Care to take a little walk with me then?” Shan’s offer was not meant to be necessary. Even if he didn’t care to take that walk with her, she’ll still continue the conversation. It wasn’t like she could afford not to. She was already here, and she already broached the subject. Might as well just swim into the current. “Your…job,” she kept the words as normal as possible. Just in case they had unwanted eavesdroppers around. “Not this one. I would like to hear about it, and then offer help with your…condition.” That word has never failed her in her line of work. At least not yet.

People called him Sam. His siblings had, friends back home, a large assortment of colleagues. Samir didn’t mind it. He minded it when people called him Sammy, which was a nickname more reserved for that family he didn’t speak to as often any more, those people out there across the country. “I prefer Samir as well,” he said, however, because he did. Especially with strangers. He didn’t mind friendliness, but he didn’t want to give the illusion that he was cool with people he barely knew using nicknames.

The stranger’s intentions remained unclear as she asked him for a walk and he wanted to just say no. He wanted to weed this garden, to feel as useful as the tools he used and like nothing more. Samir was ready to open his mouth and tell her that he was busy, that he had no interest in a walk — rejecting such a seemingly innocuous offer seemed almost cruel, but he was exhausted.

But then she went on. Job, she said. Condition. There was a tenseness gathering between his muscles, and he forced his jaw to remain slack. He’d been clear that he wanted a separation between Razor and Samir, that his human life should remain unaffected apart from the injuries he carried. And yet here a stranger was, hinting at things no stranger ought to know. “I don’t have any interest in a walk. Or telling you of my work — I’m a private person. And like I said, I don’t need any help.” He cleared his throat. “Where’d you hear about any of this shit, anyway? It’s … personal.”

Shan smiled. That’s one thing they had in common, and that’s one thing that should help this entire encounter sail smoothly. When an informant, well, informed her through a letter disguised as a bookmark in between the pages of a hardbound copy of Melinda Leigh’s Catch Her Death that someone ‘interesting’ was at the community center, she didn’t think much of it. When the same letter implied that this ‘interesting’ fellow was associated with a certain ‘location’ in a certain ‘neighborhood’ in town, she changed her mind. After all, she’s visited that same ‘neighborhood’ a lot, though she’s never done the same for that specific ‘location’ and thought the ‘interesting’ fellow a delicious means to a curious end. 

Rooting out the ‘interesting’ fellow in the sea of selfless (ugh) volunteers had been hard. Or at least Shan thought it should have been. But with the other candidates not as ‘interesting’ to her as this Samir, definitely not as capable of surviving that ‘location’ with their lives intact, there was no better option. Her instincts served her well. That defensiveness, that…determination for what’s private to remain private, and the curiosity to hunt down the disrespectful snitch, all of these things made her feel good about her choice. “If you change your mind,” she offered him a business card with nothing but a phone number underneath a drawn image of an orchid. “I’d like to be a friend.” 

“Some…of the rats in that…neighborhood can be a little chatty when their lives depend on it,” Shan shrugged, feigning disappointment at the aforementioned…rats. “Caught by the wrong people, their whispers could cost someone good and kind…” She gestured toward him with her eyes. “...their peace and even lives.” For some harmless information, harmless to him anyway, he could secure some needed…discretion. Or whatever else he wanted to trade.

Where there friendships that started off this way? Samir didn’t only doubt it, he knew it to be untrue. This was nothing if not something seedy, something born from some kind of underbelly — much like the Grit Pit itself, much like perhaps even werewolves. He took the business card all the same, though. If he was one thing, it was a survivor. He knew better than to spill his guts to this stranger, but he also knew better than to not take this small thing she offered him. A card that he could set on fire or recycle if he wished, or could save for future use.

Who knew, what tight corners he might end up in. Who knew. His position at the Pit was generally good, but it wasn’t a place of comfort or security. His contract wasn’t one that offered him many ways to go. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said, though what he’d do with the memory of this interaction went unsaid. He didn’t quite know, after all.

He stared at the other as she lifted a veil, wanting to ask whether it was her who had put someone’s life in a situation where they’d felt inclined to talk. But Samir swallowed the question after he’d closed his mouth. “And would you describe yourself to be the wrong people? Are you telling me I should be worried about you … knowing what you think you know?” There was law enforcement, looking for a cause behind the trail of death he’d left in his wake, that had ended here. There were hunters. “Not saying you’re one of them rats, but you … talk to them, clearly.”

“Me? Oh, no,” Shan did her best impression of an uwu face. That usually worked, mostly because she never looked like she could pose a threat to anyone. Most of the time, that was true, especially on the surface. She wasn’t muscular, she looked dainty, and 10/10 times, she was light as a feather, easily tossed or thrown across the room. But the danger that she could be has never been physical. She has never dreamed of being a violent threat, knows she could never be one. Shan was more of a sinister threat, the kind that could strongarm the worst of people without even lifting a finger. “You’d be able to break my bones so easily, and not in a fun way.”

That was the truth. Shan didn’t think there was a need to lie about what was so easily seen. Compared to him, and most others, she was a flower. He could step on her, and if not in a fun way, she’d just wilt. “I’m more of a friend than an enemy. At least I’d like to be. You scratch my back, I scratch yours? That kind of deal,” she made sure to purr at him, which she wouldn’t have if she really knew what he was. But all Shan knew at the moment was he was a man working at a place he needed some information on. That was all she thought she needed to know. “The rats like to talk to me. Doesn’t mean I’m fond of them.” She looked him over, a playful smirk finding its way across her lips. “I’m more fond of making sure you live longer.”

Shan was a simple woman despite all the mystery and vagueness — amuse her and she’ll be on your side, but scorn her? What scorned person would remain by their scorner’s side? Only a victim would remain with their punisher, and Shan was no victim. At least not when there’s no fun benefit to it. “Are you married? With a girlfriend?” She fluttered closer toward him, a hand hovering above his chest.

She was small, sure, and not build like someone who was immensely strong — but Samir knew that didn’t have to mean much. Corinna didn’t look like someone who was physically intimidating, but she had plenty of dangerous creatures and men wrapped around her finger. Besides, information was worse than a punch to the gut or face. “I’m not asking if I could break your bones,” he pointed out. “I’m asking if I should worry about whatever you’re implying.” He wasn’t interested in violence, despite the ways he kept doling it out. Even as a human, there were people he’d hurt. Punches thrown in bar fights. A gunshot echoing against a hunter. He ignored the thoughts.

“I don’t usually make friends like this,” he said. “I still don’t see how you can scratch my back. Just hearing empty words. A vague threat. What is it you want?” Samir was growing agitated, nervous in a way he hadn’t been in quite some time. Rox had been charming, had seen an opportunity in his position as a wolf with no control — and though he was glad for the situation he was in now, as it was an improvement, he knew somewhere he’d been manipulated into it. “Why are you insinuating I might not live long?” He sounded more pressed now, showing his agitated hand. 

She inched closer, talking in a voice that he might have appreciated in another life, at another place, during another time. But Samir inched back. “I’m not interested. Just talk to me straight, will you? These games, it’s bullshit. What is it you want, what you’re offering? Or is it just this, talk?”

“A man of your condition,” Shan took a gamble, like she always does, believing more fighters at that place would have something that bound them to, well, that place. A condition would suffice. Why else would anyone want to work there when they could work elsewhere, a fight club or whatever that didn’t need to hide in the town’s shittiest neighborhood? The selkie didn’t believe that a normal, ordinary, every-day, condition-free man would ever associate with that place. How could she, when she’s never even stepped foot there, witnessed what kind of solace or freedom such a job offered? If she had, she’d most likely stay away from it. “...should always be worried.”

Shan shook her head, discreetly watching anyone else that might be watching them back. This was taking a long time, the negotiation. Usually, she’d have a foot in the door by now, or maybe even a flipper. If she was lucky, if her charms worked, she’d be sitting in a chair, sipping tea, in the new…associate’s psyche. But this man was different. Like he was actively resisting being tamed. If she wasn’t distracted by the possible, unseen dangers from the Pit, she would’ve considered that a very useful clue. 

“Information, Samir,” Shan stated plainly, eyes narrowed at random others around them. “...on your employer, interesting information…” When she turned her eyes back to him, she put on a smile, focusing on the possibilities of this would-be partnership. “...and in turn, I can get you any information you need any time you need it.” It was always a hard bargain. Unlike money or something else that was material, information wasn’t a treasure most people thought valuable. Until of course it bites them in the ass. “I can also deliver information to anyone you want any time you want. Full discretion, of course.”

That was true enough. And worry Samir did, albeit about different things these days than he had a year ago. He worried about the Grit Pit and what it said about him. He worried what it meant that he was an asset in their arsenal of twisted entertainment. He worried that maybe one day, he’d die in that pit and not even be conscious for it. But he no longer worried that he’d kill a random civilian, a tourist visiting the coast. “Yeah. Sure.”

What she wanted was for him to go behind the back of a fae who had so-called lesser creatures killed for entertainment and shock-value. He blinked at her, wondering why someone wanted information on the Grit Pit, what the intentions might be. Surely not something heroic and morally sound, that was for sure. And what did the woman have in return for his betrayal of his employer? Information. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, but could at the same time barely resist a laugh.

“I don’t care about information. I know all I gotta know, you see.” Which was little, admittedly, but Samir thrived off his ignorance. Life was easier to lead with his head down in the sand. “My employer pays my bills, anyway. Don’t wanna mess with that.” And knowing Corinna, it wouldn’t just come with a warning, was he found out. He thought of the ways they treated Felix with a twisting feeling in his stomach. Ignorance made him feel heavy, too. “Tell you what. I’ll save your card, yeah? Keep it in my back pocket. And if I ever do need you, I’ll reach out.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Samir,” Shan grinned. At least for now that was true. With someone on the inside, she could sleep soundly knowing that whatever’s going down there in the Pit, she would have a set of eyes she could call on. A bit of wishful thinking on her part may be, but it was all she had. At least for now. “Should things get…dicey on your end, for you, I should be able to help.” 

The word ‘should’ really needed an emphasis but the selkie intentionally made her tone neutral. ‘Could’ she? Of course. She’s done that before. With the exiled daughter and her hunter lover. Delivered them back home, safely, the daughter with her family’s crown and the hunter with whatever fondness she had for her adoptive home. ‘Would’ she? Now that was a bit more complicated. If Samir had useful information, why not? If Samir became useful information, that would be good, too.

“I’ll get going now,” Shan purred at him, a sly wink to emphasize their discrete…relationship, for lack of a better term. With her, most relationships aren't relationships per se. Just an uneasy alliance or a brief partnership. Very hard to make lasting bonds in her line of work. Very dangerous, too. 

As she began to walk away, Shan wondered how that ‘location’ manages to keep its ‘employees’ in line, amenable to risking their own lives as if their work was more important. Perhaps with a lot of money? That would make it a good ‘location’ to ‘visit’ one day. Or promises of fame and glory? Pass. Obviously led by someone more than human, preferably not a vampire or a hunter. Hopefully, a spellcaster or fae? Now that would be delicious. Her insatiable pelt would agree. All in due time. Fortunately, she was patient.

[icarusthelunarguard]

 This Week’s Horrible-Scopes

It’s time for this week’s Horrible-Scopes! So for those of you that know your Astrological Signs, cool! If not, just pick one, roll a D12, or just make it up as you go along. It really doesn’t matter. Better yet! Check out “Heart of the Game, Fredonia” and see if they can sell you those D12’s with the symbols on them. Tell them “Shujin Tribble” sentcha. And “Hail, Hail, Fredonia!” Home of the Blue Devil!

With the release of new Atari 2600 game consoles that will accept and play the old game cartridges, we’re randomly selecting the old games for you. From COMBAT to KLAX let’s see what 8-Bit Monster you get to play this week.

Aries 

You get Shrodinger’s Game: it’s both alive and not at the same time. The game is “Motorcycle” - Game Code CX26141, and it was never released. Which is, of course, totally On Brand for you. You’re on the list, but almost never seen. This week… don’t be late to your job’s staff meeting… YOU WORK FROM HOME!

Taurus 

Now we’re talking! Your game is “Breakout” - Game Code CX2622. This isn’t the most fun game in the world, seeing as how you have to trade out the joystick for the paddle controller. But it’s still fun… or it WAS fun. We’re about to ruin it and all other clones of the game by telling you that This Week… “Breakout” is just Single-Player Video Ping-Pong. Just accept that you can’t beat it.  

Gemini  

Your game doesn’t have very high stakes. Matter of fact there’s nothing except Trial and Error to… Well, “win” sounds like the wrong word for it. Game Code CX2627 brings us to “Human Cannonball”. A premise so simple it’s a wonder the game sold at all after we learned what it was. Big gun… tilt up… set power… launch your little dude into a water tank. Easy, right? Yup. Easy and boring. This week… find a way to make all your mind-numbing activities more fun..

Cancer Moon-Child 

He’s been in an Arcade Video Game, a cartoon, and now he’s on your home television screen! It’s Game Code CX26123 - “Jr. Pac-Man”. Let’s be clear here, it’s not “Pac-Man Junior”, it’s “Junior Pac-Man”. Likely this had something to do with marketing or licensing, but the game was still there. And the best thing we can say about it is… It Wasn’t the 2600 version of Pac-Man! This week… you’ll exceed expectations by just being YOU. Don’t try to win harder!

Leo 

Making its way from the Arcade to your home, it’s one of the most challenging vector graphics game ever. Game Code CX2685 is “Gravitar”! Not only do you have to battle enemy spaceships as you try to select the level you want to enter, but you get to clear asteroids of gun placements while picking up fuel from the surface. It’s a tough game, no lie. But it’s a fun premise! This week… there’s going to be Black ice on the road. Don’t slam into the ground!

Virgo 

Oh, now this gets to be more fun. Game Code CX26176 is called “Radar Lock”. Released in 1989, over a DECADE after the console was originally released, it’s all the grit and air-flight dogfighting of Top Gun without the F-14’s sexy profile. And any suggestion that it’s simply a clone of the Sega game “Afterburner” are not to be believed. This week… make your work easier by using something you worked on before. Assuming you’re a programmer, otherwise that’s just not helpful at all.

Libra 

This one hurts a lot. Your game earned the ominous distinction of being 'the arcade game with the most ways to die'. Atari Game Code CX26147 is the unreleased hit game “Frogger”. And before anyone does the, “Uhm, But, Aktually…” thing, Yes! There WAS an Atari2600 game cartridge released by Parker Brothers, but NOT by Atari itself. Over the years there have been clones, spin-offs, re-issues, a cartoon series, mentions in popular culture, and even an ad campaign encouraging people to use safe transportation in cities. This week… you’re a classic, you’re adored, and you’re special. Don’t worry that you haven’t done enough. 

Scorpio 

Imagine you’re stuck in an almost round race track with three sections you can drive on to pick up points like you’re Pac-Man. Now imagine there’s another car trying to do the exact same thing, only in the opposite direction, trying to crash into your car to stop you. Welcome to “Dodge 'Em”, Game Code CX2637. You can play against the computer or another player, but you have to plan ahead and remember which way to tap the joystick to change lanes. This week… you are NOT a NASCAR driver. Stop trying to only make Left Turns.

Sagittarius 

You are Secret Agent 17, trying to make your way through a 30-story building alive. Doors will open, letting out enemy agents to shoot you dead… BUT! You can avoid them by using some tricky door work. Welcome to the world of “Elevator Action”, Game Code CX26126. The sad part about this Arcade to Console port was that it was killed before it could be sold. Which might be all for the best. We didn’t need another Pac-Man sprite horror on our TVs. This Week… Look up why pressing the elevator door close button doesn’t work.

Capricorn 

Your game is one of absolute LEGEND! Game Code CX2671 has a very special place in the history of video games. “Swordquest: Waterworld” was only available via Mail Order and like its sibling games came with a comic book and a contest! Beat the game, send in the codes, and you could win the "Crown of Life"! A solid gold crown decorated with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and aquamarines valued at $25,000 USD in 1984, meaning almost $75,000 today! This week… your value is not something to be trifled with. Stand up for yourself, damnit!

Aquarius 

Not much to say about your game. Code CX26158 is the unreleased “Surround II”.  It’s the precursor to “Snake” on the Nokia. Not much to explain, really. So this week… buy a new Nokia 3310… YES, they’ve brought it back! And just to be kind, buy the safety case for it so when you drop it you don’t break any concrete floors.

Pisces  

You get both a great game and a disappointing one. Game Code CX2650 is the home console port of the amazingly fun arcade game “Berzerk”; a game you play with two joysticks in the arcade but only one at home. And the smiling yellow ball, “Otto”? Yeah, it looks like crap on the TV. And there’s no voice taunting. So this week… Look up what Otto looks like, and imagine that it’s the Evil Twin of Wilson from “Cast Away”.

And THOSE are your Horrible-Scopes for this week! Remember if you liked what you got, we’re obviously not working hard enough at these. BUT! If you want a better or nastier one for your own sign or someone else’s, all you need to do to bribe me is just Let Me Know! These will be posted online at the end of each week via Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Discord and BLUESKY.

[magical-glimpse]

Hello Miaro,

First of all I'll like to thanks you for helping me with the dream about an unknown entity and it's bizarre fixation on my heart chakra. It really helped me to put some things on perspective.

I was wondering if you could help me again with a dream. This is an old one but still very clear in my head. I obsessed with it for a while trying to look for interpretations and found nothing.

In the dream I'm walking next to a small water channel. The floor is covered on white tiles and the sky is clear blue, extending to the horizon. Nothing to see but the water channel I was walking next to. An in there there's a fish swimming. Like a huge black koi fish, almost as wide as the channel. I realized I was following it, and I felt like it was purposely guiding me somewhere.

At some point we reached a curve that opened to a huge pool of water. So deep I couldn't see the bottom. I saw the fish go in it and I lost him from sight. Then i stood at the border and let myself fall forward.

I saw this from a 3rd person perspective. After the fall, in a twirl of bubbles, I turned myself into a goldfish. Like a really shiny one. Cartoon style gold color. Also really small.

There were other fish in there too. There was one who approached me (It looked like the black and white fish in the movie Nemo) and I knew it wanted to eat me.

Then the black koi came back and covered me with it's body. And scared the other fish away.

I knew it came to protect me.

I see it in my mind sometimes when I'm awake and when I meditate too. But it doesn't speak I think.

Do you think is a spirit guide?

Pd:Thanks a lot for your time.

I do think it is a spirit guide ! I think you might be able to be really deep in meditation or healing, in fact you might have really strong abilities when it comes to things that necessitates meditating, but you go so deep your own protection fails bc you are not focused on them, so your guide does it for you.

[yuzukult]

effortlessly, the epilogue (m) || jjk & reader

title: effortlessy, the epilogue pairing: jungkook x reader word count: 5.6k genre: the after high school :) + my infamous poorly written smut a/n: it’s shorter than intended but... it’s out guys! because someone asked me when I planned on posting this and I thought that I was the only one who cared about this epilogue. ;u; Thanks for mentioning it to me, because it motivated me to write it again. Enjoy! series masterlist can be found here

"I want to take care of the planet like Greta Thunberg!"

"Noooo, wouldn't you want to be something cooler? Like a soccer player? How about Lionel Messi?"

"Forget soccer! I want to do something even better... make computers like Steve Jobs!"

One of the children frowns, shoulders slouching in disappointment and frustration of his classmates. Leaning down, you brush away the bangs that cover his eyes, gently pinching his chubby cheeks full of love and care. "What's wrong, Jaemin?"

"I don't want to be like Greta Thunberg or Lion Messi or Steve Work!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. 

"It's Lionel Messi and Steve Jobs, Jaemin!"

"Okay, okay," You say soothingly, hands cupping and thumbs rubbing against the flesh of his cheeks delicately. "That's fine, Jaemin, you don't have to be like those people if you don't want to. You can choose whatever profession you want, and whomever you want it to be like." 

"I want to be a swimmer, like Jeon Jungkook!"

"Mm," You hum, tapping your finger against your chin as if you're pondering about Jaemin's idea. "You could, if you'd like. Have you ever met Jeon Jungkook before?"

"No," He pouts, his bottom lip jutting out in dismay. "But momma showed me videos of hyung online and he seems like a very kind person." Nodding, your hands fall into the ones of Jaemin's, swaying your arms together to calm his nerves. Children tend to be very emotional, you learn after the many years of experience with them, and Jaemin is no exception. Finding ways to tame their anxiousness was the true challenge. "Want to hear a secret?"

His eyes widen as large as the cartoons he watches on TV. "Yes! What's the secret?"

Pretending to glance out to confirm that the coast is clear and that the other children had walked away to find something more interesting to direct their attention to, you whisper into Jaemin's ear. "Jeon Jungkook was my best friend."

Jaemin gasps. "No way. Your friend? Are you just saying that to me so I can feel better?" Yes, is what you really wanted to tell him, but truth to be told, you weren't lying. Kids were incredibly smart for even noticing that adults would say things to water down the situation, but you weren't just saying anything. "Of course not. Jungkook and I go way back, way before he became a professional swimmer. I used to go to all his practices, hung out with him after them, and even attended classes with him... just like you're in one right now!"

"Do you think... Do you think you can ask Jungkook hyung to come visit us? Maybe? If you're still friends with him..." He drifts, the thought of not being able to see his hero weighing down on his shoulders again. "I'll see what I can do," Standing from where you've been crouching, you ruffle Jaemin's hair with a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Now go play with the other kids. Remember, you can be whoever you want, and everyone else can be whoever they want as well."

Right before the clock hits 3:00PM, you verify that all the little kids are geared up in their beanies, puffer jackets, shoes, and some with gloves, in preparation for their parents' arrival. When the doors open and the children line up, leaving one by one, their nose and cheeks tint pink at the harsh winds, shivering yet at the same time cheering in glee when they see their guardians pull up. 

Watching the smiles on their faces reminds you of the time that you hated the winter; brisk air smacking your cheeks in pain, freezing your face in position, fingers stiff from being exposed to the outside, and constant shaking just to warm yourself up in a clownery large winter coat. Yet, this time around, you find yourself fond of the weather, the thought of being able to spend time with your loved ones approaching and activities that could only be done during this specific season. 

"Ready to head out?" One of your co-workers asks, just as bundled up as you are, learning your lesson after leaving without a jacket that wasn't thick enough before a day ago. "Yeah, I am. Let me just get my purse first, Naeun."

It's a constant cycle everyday: swipe your transit pass onto the bus, get off, walk an obscene amount of distance, if it's a good day then you'd stop for coffee, get to school, and prep for the day before calling the students in to take attendance, then that's when the teaching starts. 

But something about today feels great, despite the snow falling from the sky that nearly has you slipping on the ice from lack of attention to anything in front of you. So, you grab something hot. After all, what's better than a cup of hot chocolate in the morning right before you're stuck in a classroom full of twenty first-graders?

Following your medium sized peppermint hot chocolate (you're rather quite enamored that you're able to find a peppermint flavor because it's your favorite), hopping out of the coffee shop with glee, you're ready to be on route to work again.

Then someone obnoxiously honks their horn.

You show no regard to this, mostly because it makes no sense to. Someone who's driving a flashy neon yellow Porsche is already gaining all the unnecessary attention in the first place, and you're not really in the mood to be categorized within that population. 

But the beeping doesn't stop.

Oddly enough, it actually feels like the car is following you. Sweating profusely, you're debating whether or not to glance to see who the driver is. Just then, your phone dings.

jeon jungkook [6:57AM]: i've been trying to get you to turn around for the past 10 minutes, could you please stop walking faster? at this rate you're going to be a runner?

Instantaneously, you stop in the midst of your steps, sharply twisting on your heel to see the owner of the flamboyant vehicle. There he was, with the driver's side window rolled down, exposing those pearly white teeth of his, paired with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

Typical.

"Jeon Jungkook, fancy meeting you here."

"Not really fancy if I had to check your location services to see where you've been. It's not fun being ignored, love." He has his arm rested on the opening, watching as you purse your lips and bounce on the tips of your toes. "Mm, wonder why that is."

"Don't be like that," He frowns, chin sitting on his arm. "Come, I'll drive you to work. Maybe we can talk along the way."

"I'm not really in the mood to talk to you at seven in the morning, Jeon."

"Please?" He begs, pools of brown that match the liquid in your cup and the sweetness it entails. Just his voice alone was warm, shooting into your chest and you're trying to convince yourself that it's the drink, not him. "Fine." You respond through your gritted teeth, rounding the hood of the car to enter the passenger seat.

Jungkook looks so happy he could burst.

On the ride to work, you don't talk. He speaks casually, sharing stories about his adventures, ones that you don't really want to hear about or was it that his current attire that's causing your mind to get fuzzy? Baby blue dress shirt with just a couple of the buttons let loose, tucked into those dark grey slacks that hug his thighs so well, that you needed to avert your eyes or else he'd see you checking him out.

He does in fact, to the point that he needs to hide the smirk that dangles on his lips, but he refrains himself because getting you to forgive him is a difficult task alone, and teasing you wouldn't get him anywhere. 

"Pull up here," You demand when he's driving by the perimeter of the building. "You don't need to drive into the yard. I don't need the teachers thinking I'm hanging out with someone driving a construction safety yellow car."

Jungkook is admittingly disappointed, hoping that he gets more time with you but he did choose a work day to meet you. "Can I see you after this?" He's suddenly bashful after approaching you confidently earlier, no semblance of high school Jungkook hinted in his personality anymore. "I don't know. Maybe. We'll see." With that, you slip out the car, greeting the parents that you pass by, sharing that beaming smile that he was wishing was for him instead. You're prettiest when you're working—the way you're talking to your students as they begin to line up to enter class, tapping their noses with your drink in hand, drowning in your oversized coat. You seem at your happiest, suddenly regretting his recent absence from your life.

Reminiscing back to the time of when you didn't know what you wanted to do with your life, where you wanted to go, and who you wanted to be were questions that were constantly thrown up in the air. He recalls those nights where he'd hear your whimpers through the wall between the bedroom and the living room, sitting at the coffee table in frustration while he prepped for bed. Life had been a crazy journey for the both of you, especially when he had gotten invited to pursue in other work opportunities. 

You're thankful when you leave work that day and don't spot the rubber duck colored car anywhere near the schoolyard, yet at the same time, slightly despondent that he didn't return. "You look down," Naeun points out, nose peeking from her scarf with her hands dug deep into the pockets of her jacket. "Expecting someone?"

"Kind of, not really," You confess, letting out a heavy sigh with water vapor in the air. "But not surprised anyways."

"Does it have anything to do with a cheddar cheese looking car?"

Choking on your saliva, you attempt to clear your throat at her recognition. "How'd... you know it had to do with a yellow car?"

She leans over, gesturing in the direction behind you with her chin. "Other than the fact that it's hard to miss a car that bright in the morning, you coming out of it is also attention grabbing. Plus, he's over there, parked in the corner with a swarm of little kids around him."

Flinching, you look in her direction, the sight of Jungkook seated on the hood of his ridiculous vehicle, uncomfortably bending over to reach the height of the flock of little children with their parents, signing autographs and exchanging words with them.

You can't tell if it's cute or making your blood boil.

When you walk over to him with Naeun by your side, he looks up with that annoying smile on his face again. "Jeon Jungkook." 

"See, Jaemin? She does know me." Jungkook teases, messing up the little boy's hair. Jaemin has a look on his face that screams nothing but elation, spilling with happiness that couldn't be fulfilled until he met his idol, Jungkook, the Olympian swimmer. "You were right! He is your best friend!"

"I said was, but you get the point." Jungkook jerks up, quickly shuffling to dip his head in the window opening of his car, pulling out a drink, handing it to you. "Would someone who was your friend get you your favorite drink?"

In a medium Starbucks cup, there's an iced cold brew with cold foam sitting on top—a drink that you had grown attached and addicted to in your first year of University, ordering it so frequently on the daily that you had to wean yourself off it. "Cold brew," You clarify, taking the drink gleefully. "I guess you remembered."

Naeun extends her hand at Jungkook, requesting a shake. "Oh my god, Jeon Jungkook, I'm a big fan. I heard that you were recently sponsored by Nike—crazy! She—" She's referring to you with a glare "—never mentioned that she was friends with a professional swimmer!"

"Didn't think it was important," You add, swirling before taking a sip of the liquid gold. "Knowing someone who swam for your country's Olympic team isn't usually brought up in an everyday conversation."

She rolls her eyes as Jungkook gifts her a warm handshake, hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He's dressed for comfort, this afternoon as opposed to this morning, and you're curious of his schedule yet you don't ask. "Kids, time to go home, don't leave your parents waiting." You dismiss the children who whine in reaction. "But we want to talk to Jungkook!"

"I'll be back tomorrow!" He confirms, and they run away in excitement, earning a groan from you. "Tomorrow? You're actually expecting to be back tomorrow?"

"Why? You don't want to see me?"

"Jungkook, why are you even back?" You exasperate, fingers running through your tangled locks. Jungkook is starting to frustrate you and all you want to do is go home and snuggle under the covers while watching a movie while possibly grading some papers. "What's the point of all this?"

He pouts, an arm snaking around your waist to pull your frame close. "I literally came to see my girlfriend and all she does is push me away. Isn't that crazy, Naeun? The girl of my dreams agreed to date me then she pretends that I don't even exist."

Jaw dropped, Naeun can't even formulate a sentence with the new information. "I know what you're going to say next, 'why didn't you—'"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a boyfriend this entire time? Why didn't you even mention that it was Jungkook! You just faked the entire time that you weren't with someone while I was tricking you into going on dates—"

"You set her up with guys?" Jungkook's brows furrowed at Naeun before looking down at you. "You let her set you up with guys?"

"I didn't go to any of those dates she organized," You mention, bringing the drink to your lips again, truly the only thing that calms your nerves despite the chaos unfolding in front of you. "I vaguely said I wasn't interested."

"You could've just said that you had a boyfriend!"

"Well, you weren't around to prove it, so did it really matter?" Shrugging your shoulders, you escape from his grasp to drag the zipper of your jacket up higher. "Anyways, I'm out. Get home safe, Naeun, let me know how it goes with that mechanic guy tonight." Tugging up your sleeve for a better view of your watch, you nod. "My bus is coming soon—"

"—I'm literally standing right here and you're still going to take the bus?"

"I'm going to take this as my cue to leave..." Naeun chimes in, quickly waving goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook-ssi?" And he nods in return, watching as she walks away.

"I can't believe you would just waltz in here like you can do whatever you want." You hiss, nearly squeezing the cup in your hand but the cold brew inside is too valuable to let go to waste. "This is my workplace, not my house."

"I would go to your house if I knew where it was. You turned off your location yesterday."

"Maybe you shouldn't have outed yourself the first time, then you would've known." He moans, pushing his hair away from his face. The length has grown tremendously since the last time you saw him,  reaching his chin with the ends curling into the shapes of his eyes when he's gleaming with a grin. "Why are you making things so difficult for the both of us?"

"I'm not." You respond nonchalantly, blinking blankly at the man before you. 

Jungkook tugs on your arm. "Then let me take you home, to our home, really, since you decided that you wanted to move out without me here when the lease ended."

"I told you I didn't want to live where stalkers were standing outside my place."

"And I told you that you should call the bodyguard my company said they'd provide for you. Why didn't you call? Why didn't you tell me?"

Truthfully, you didn't want to go through the complications of the process of getting someone to consistently watch over you on a daily basis—it was easier to just up and leave, find somewhere else to reside instead of getting attacked by his fans. "It was too complex," allowing him to pull you in between his open legs as he rests on the hood of his car. "Plus, why would I want to ask help from a guy who wouldn't even come home for our anniversary? Easier to leave instead of being disappointed all the time."

The edges of his mouth drops. "Don't say it like that. I had to work, or else I would've taken the first flight back home. All the opportunities just so happen to be in the States."

"Go live there then, you don't need to come back. It's convenient for you to find a place there anyway."

"I'm not leaving you, idiot." He counters back, irritated that you're even making such suggestions. "I told you this every single time we meet again, every phone-call, every facetime. I won't move unless it's with you." The look in his eyes is hypnotizing mixed along with his words, swaying you into his direction unless you shake your head from the thoughts, stepping back. "Fine. Drive me home, whatever. Your stuff is still there anyways. I guess you still somewhat live with me."

Jungkook takes this as a victory.

In all honesty, he loves the idea of a domestic relationship. Jungkook loves having to wake up in the morning with you sleeping on the other side of the bed, corners of your eyes filled with dry boogers that'll probably hurt when you decide to get up, and brushing your teeth together, side by side, shoving each other just to be able to spit in the tiny little sink in the apartment. He argues that he could help pay for a better place, but you reject him regardless, wanting to stay in a more affordable place, one where you can go halfsies on.

He misses watching you hover over the stove, obnoxiously monitoring whatever it is you're cooking for dinner, only for him to call you out and take over instead. Or when you're doing work on the floor with your papers and laptop sprawled across the coffee table, leaning back when your shoulders get tired, resting in between his legs with your back against the body of the couch. 

So on the route of driving you home, that’s all he can think about as you sit in silence. 

This was definitely not the plan. 

Parked in the garage of your apartment complex, the fluorescent lights don’t do a good job of piercing through the tinted windows of Jungkook’s car, which you’re super thankful for despite the obnoxious primary color he chooses. The steam fills the glass, hand pressed against the armrest on the door as you’re panting heavily, an uneven match with Jungkook’s. He has a grip on both your ass and hips, guiding as you’re grinding yourself on him, wishing to be closer than you already were.

How he has you out of your jeans is unknown. Your jackets have already been throat into the some-what backseat, your dress shirt unbuttoned with your breasts spilling from your nude bra, and his shirt is hiked up just enough to catch a glimpse of his abs. Swimming requires him to keep his body in shape and there’s no complaint from you on that.

Mouth opened, he let out a groan, feeling your tightness around his cock that made a drop of sweat fall from his forehead. “Fuck,” He curses, the sight of you in front of him clenches his heart. Jungkook thinks you’re so pretty under this light— even prettier than when he knew you in high school, it’s like the longer he knows you, the more infatuated he is. When you gyrate your hips aggressively, he suddenly can’t take it anymore, hands trailing up your spine, pushing you down against his chest before he digs his feet into the carpeted floors, hips piston up into you. 

The new angle has your stomach in knots, a soft gasp falling from your lips that only encourages him to go harder. “Can you come like this?” 

“Touch me,” You respond, and it comes out nearly as a whine but you’re too busy being fogged up by pleasure to even care. “Jeon, please,” Begging at this point, he slips himself between the two of you, thumb rubbing against the bud as your grip on his shoulders clasp firms, lips against the flesh of his neck. 

“You’re going to come now, aren’t you?” 

The way he says it hints an arrogant smirk, one you’re bothered with but you’re in the middle of something currently. It’s rhetorical, to him, because your pussy is convulsing around his dick that he’s almost reaching his limit yet he waits for you patiently. “I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” He manages to say through a heave, your eyes tightly shut closed before you reach your orgasm; a melodic moan finally releasing into his ears that he’s been expecting all night, one that you’ve been holding back to showcase that you’re still mad at him. Jungkook couldn’t care— well, just right now, since he has his dick in you, thrusting away until he hits his own orgasm, ropes of cum coating your swollen pink walls.

You’ve grown limp against his body, nose snuggled into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy but slowed from previously. He misses having you like this, bare and close to him, skin feeling light from post-sex. “I love you,” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “Let’s get you cleaned up?”

Nodding, you barely have the strength to push yourself off his body, but he doesn’t let go of the grip he has around your mid-frame anyways, sliding the back of the seat up to straighten yourselves. Leaning over to the glove compartment, he snatches a couple tissues before slipping his limp dick out of you, wiping away your mixed come. 

When he eventually has the both of you dressed, you lead him into the building, in the elevator and up to the floor of your apartment, cheeks still tinted rosy from the act in the car. Jungkook doesn’t mind it though, he thinks it’s cute that you’re embarrassed.

If this is what it’s going to be like forever— the warmth that you give, despite the words that come from your mouth, the affection and care that you distribute just for him, and the newfound confidence you’ve discovered during college that you’re not afraid of showing him... he wants it. Forever.

“Mm, so you’re telling me that you still fucked him even though you said that you were mad at him?” 

Yura is adorable with her little baker’s hat on, working endlessly in the kitchen of her new bakery that she decided to open in Seoul after graduating culinary school. Luckily for you, it’s close enough to your apartment that you found yourself stopping by to visit frequently, stealing the goods that don’t make it out to the display fridge.

“... Possibly. I don’t know. I couldn’t help it— I didn’t get dicked down in forever. And no, don’t talk about using the dildo you gave me last year, I haven’t even touched the thing.”

“What? Nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s meaty, girthy—“

“Oh my god, please don’t continue that sentence,” You wince, palm against your forehead. “It was good, alright? I mean, sure, I finished myself off when I’m alone but yesterday, in the car—”

“You hoe— you didn’t only give your vagina to him, but you gave it to him in the car? You couldn’t even wait, could you? And what now, is he living back at the apartment?”

“I mean... he said he didn’t get a hotel because he wanted to sleep in his own bed again...”

Yura laughs, clapping her hands in amusement as the powder hits her face. “You’re so funny, you know that? Why do you keep playing this charade when you could just... let him back in?”

You sigh, plopping your body down onto the stool by the counters, elbows against the floured tops. Truthfully, caving into all the mistakes Jungkook made was something too common from you, wishing that he wasn’t good with his words and affectionate whenever he’s around you. He missed an anniversary, a 6th year anniversary, and from what you read on the forums online, it’s one of those years where relationships start to get bumpy.

“I just— I don’t want to be easy, you know? I let him get away with everything, and it’s not fair that he’s all the way in the States, doing whatever it is he’s doing, while I’m here, watching twenty to thirty little kids everyday. And I can’t tell him to stop what he’s doing because well— it’s his dream, Yura, who am I to stop him?”

“You don’t,” She responds sharply, glaring at you through her floured lashes. “You should’ve gotten on a plane to the States. It’s your anniversary, as in both you and Jungkook. It’s not his designated job to come here when it’s an anniversary to celebrate the both of you.”

There she goes again, even 6 years later after high school, Yura exhibits the realities of a situation, especially the ones that you’re in. 

“I guess...” You say faintly, slowly reaching your surrender. 

“No guessing. Please leave and go look for him. Tell him that you’re sorry, that you’re not going to be a big baby anymore. You’ve been with him for six years, and no matter how mad you get at him, he’s always coming back for more and attempting to make it up to you. Also, it’s 6:30AM... shouldn’t you already be on your way to work?”

“Oh, right, fuck, okay, thanks, Yura!” Jolting out of the bakery, you’re practically running to the school when you halt in your route at the sight of the familiar neon yellow car that’s parked on the school yard, yet again.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, and I’m on South Korea’s Men’s Swim Team. I’m training for 800M Freestyle Swim again, and possibly, maybe, planning to retire soon.”

Retire? The word that slips from Jungkook’s mouth is unfamiliar, mostly because he had never discussed this with you before, causing you to furrow your brows in perplexity at him as he stands in front of the black chalkboard in your classroom full of children. 

“I actually lived next door to your lovely teacher here, and we grew up together. She even coached me early in my years since I didn’t have anyone with credentials to show me. We both used to stare at the computer, day and night, renting videos from the library, and spending most of our time together just so that we could improve on my skills...” As Jungkook babbles on to the students, Naeun nudges you in the stomach.

“What?” You hiss in a whisper. Softly, she responds, “You never told me any of this! I thought we were friends! You’ve been hiding from me that you’re dating an Olympian and that you guys knew each other since you were little? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Mm,” You hum, arms crossed over your chest. “I got recruited to shadow coaches back in the university Jungkook and I attended. I rejected their offer and went undecided before coming to terms that I’d teach.”

Naeun is taken aback by all this information, stumbling back to the edge of your desk to regain her balance. “You were recruited to coach? And you rejected that offer? Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because swimming is Jungkook’s dream, not mine.”

During college, evidently enough, you had been struggling endlessly trying to figure out what you wanted to do with yourself. There were moments where you considered taking a gap year— a break from it all, go somewhere maybe to finally understand yourself and what you want to do. Jungkook’s eyes when you mentioned it to him grew wary, sad that he couldn’t be there to help you but just stare at your helpless expression through the screen of his phone. 

One thing you knew for sure, you didn’t want Jungkook to pity you. (Although, he never did. He was just too in love and couldn’t see the girl of his dreams sad.)

So you pushed harder. Met with people, asked about their experiences, requested for a mentor, and just researched. It was exactly like the time Jungkook told you he wanted to swim, so you obsessively tried to find any information on it so that you could teach him and show him things he could do in the water.

You learned that if you wanted something bad enough, you grew a drive for it.

It might’ve been when Jungkook realized that you were great at coaching. When he tried to sway you into coaching people because you were great and motivating people to do better, to try harder, and all of this without overworking them to the point of turning into dust. Despite everything, you didn’t want to coach swimming— and soon learning, you didn’t want to coach any sport. But the closest thing to it was teaching.

And a teacher was what you became.

There was already enough experience in teaching someone, or in this case, tutoring, because Jungkook sucked at it back in grade school. He always needed help, and that’s where you swooped in. Arms filled with notebooks, backpack dragging you full with textbooks while you stood at Jungkook’s front porch, ready to confuse him with letters and numbers that he learned he didn’t even need now.

“Did you know he was thinking about retirement?” Naeun sneaks in again. You shake your head, watching your boyfriend answer questions from the crowd. “No, I didn’t. He’s never even mentioned that word to me, ever.”

Just as Jungkook finishes, you holler out for the class to settle down, pushing him aside as he bumps back into the wall with a grin on his face. “Ok, class, since it’s 5 minutes before recess, I’m just going to let you guys go off. It is a Friday, so enjoy yourselves!”

Jungkook joins in when you’re zipping up the jackets and tying the shoes of the kids; they’re all too excited for an extra five minutes of recess time, saying something along the lines of, “we should ask hyung to come more often, he makes her happy enough to give us five extra minutes!” and Jungkook stifles a laugh.

Standing against the brick masonry of the building, Jungkook accompanies you. “You’re going to ask me about the whole retirement thing, aren’t you?”

“Was. But you didn’t seem like you cared enough to bring it up to me.”

He sighs, adjusting the beanie on his head. “I didn’t decide until yesterday. I’m going to be in the next Olympics then I’m retiring. I’ve made enough money from the sponsorships and I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my affiliation with Nike ‘til past that.”

Glancing over at him before looking back at the children playing in the yard, you snuggle your nose deeper into your scarf. “Why’s that? Isn’t swimming your dream?”

“It is,” He says, voice genuine and filled with honesty. “I might do some things here and there, maybe train some kid with potential. I just... I don’t know how much longer I can do this thing between us. I’m never going to give up on swimming, and there’s so many opportunities out there for me to do that includes it. But this whole... training for the Olympics thing— I’ve done it already. It’s great, I’ll do another year of it. But by the time the second time I enter, we’ll be hitting that age where it’s time to settle down.”

“We don’t need to have a set time to settle down—“

“I know that we don’t but I’m tired of this whole long distance thing. You’ve been so supportive of my dreams, and I’ve accomplished them already. It’s time that I’m here, by your side, supporting yours.”

There’s silence between the two of you, despite the constant screaming and laughing that’s coming from the playground. 

“I’m sorry,” You blurt and he only looks at you with bewilderment on his face. “I should’ve came to visit you on our anniversary instead of expecting you to come here. It was selfish of me.”

Jungkook laughs, beaming brightly with the sweetest smile upon his lips. “You used to be so timid and shy back in high school. You’ve developed into this woman who’s confident and fierce, sometimes scaring me because I never thought you could ever be like this.”

“Does it make you like me any less?”

“No,” He turns to you, tightening the scarf around your neck in prevention of slipping. “But... it makes me love you more. You’re also admitting things and apologizing. Very huge character development if you asked me. Say, how about we go home tonight and celebrate our anniversary, to make up for the one we miscommunicated about?”

“I’d... like that, very much.” You respond, chewing on your bottom lip bashfully. 

“Now,” He begins, pinching your frozen cheeks gently. “I told you I love you about... a million times since I came back. I’m still waiting for you to say it too.”

He’s still somewhat the same Jungkook from back then, hidden underneath the blanket of adulthood and experiences through college but nonetheless, just as much as he changed, you’ve loved him through every stage he’s gone through. He felt the same. “Love you too, Jeon.” And there it was, the smile that tugs on the edges of your lips that he’s been waiting for, dedicated just for him.

[anntidote]

:club room keys - sawamura daichi

back to: series index || ann’s playground

pairing: sawamura daichi x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: timestop!au, TW!!dubcon, smut, angst, pwp, blowjob, deep throating, penetration, i still don’t know if this counts as somnophilia (?), mentions of kageyama, michimiya, and oikawa

summary: rain comes down heavy after student council duties, but you still have to drop off a set of keys. luckily, daichi helps you out- and there’s only so many ways that you can repay him.

a/n: dedicated to @ceo-of-daichi simply because lydz deserves a different daichi D word than drought. so here’s some dick LOL. 

the ring of the intercom and the bustling life of students. the clatter of shoes against the blue tile and chatter of passing conversation, definitely fell on deaf ears. your form slumping against the desk, and the weight of your face leaning into your palm. 

it'd been a couple days since your last run in with tobio, and the whole ordeal of the bathroom incident. the thoughts of him still living rent free in your mind-- at how his eyebrows scrunched up. pursed lips and the weeping tip of his cock, almost blushing the same shade of rose that graced his cheeks. 

wait. you shook your head. no. you told yourself you wouldn't think of him like that anymore. 

 tobio doesn't deserve to be a rebound. he deserves to be treasured, and loved correctly. your job was to keep that awkward, wobbly smile on his face when sipping on his milk straw. you were to worry about his studies, and whether he goes straight home after practice.

the last thing that should be bothering you is the voice at the back of your head. tethering your mindset elsewhere, and questioning why he was jacking off in the school bathroom in the first place. 

what made him so frustrated that he went during class?

did he like someone that much? was it someone you knew?

was that someone perhaps you?

"so will you do it?" hands slamming down on your desk, you bolt upright in shock. snapped out of a day dream, you're met with the sight of michimiya, captain of the girls' volleyball team. a crumb or two still on her face, her lopsided grin holds hope when she stares down at you. 

"h-huh?" you barely register her words to respond, still alarmed. "i asked if you were willing to drop off our gym's keys after practice. i need to hurry home to do something-- but…" she retracts her hands and props them on her hips. "... are you doing alright? you've seem out of it these couple days. it's not like you." 

"if i could turn back time and fix what i did, i would."

your nose scrunches up a bit at the impromptu flashback. "just peachy." 

"oh really?" a tinge of sarcasm sprinkled into her reply, you luckily miss the flash of pity in her eyes when you finally look up at her.

 almost as if she knew.

 "well, i hope things get better for you."

"yeah, yeah." you wave off the topic. "but you said you needed me to drop off keys or something?" 

"ah, right!" her usual go-lucky smile making an appearance. "sawamura asked if he could borrow our gym after practice for the last couple days, but i have to promised to run some errands back at home. i was hoping you could swing by the club room after student council, and drop off the keys for me?" 

you bit back a laugh, trying to keep the best poker face you could- as the pleading expression on her face looked like something out of a cartoon. "i don't know…"

"oh my goodness, please! i already promised sawamura, and it's already hard enough, trying to get all the members to get to practice and-" 

you grab her shoulders, halting the blubbering, and frantic look in her eyes. "calm down, yui! i was only joking- of course i will."

…

rain was something tooru despised. 

his complaints were one of a child, as it ruined his hair. it made everything sticky, and smell like wet dog. being out too long would make him sick, and if there was too much of it- it would turn into a storm. it could turn into a hurricane. or even a typhoon. 

and it's honestly ironic, even as you hold your bag over your head. your rubber sneakers hitting the mud and pavement, rushing to get under the roof of the club building. much to your luck, the reminiscent squeak of rubber isn't heard, as the gym doors were shut. letting out a huff, the sheer amount of relief that pours over you when the familiar screech of the metal door opens is a blessing. 

"hey! you made it-- oh my gosh, get inside!" he cuts off his warm greeting, as he grabs your wrist, pulling you into the room before the door slams behind you. "holy crap, you're drenched."

"thanks for stating the obvious, daichi." you snarkily remark, but still giving him a small smile. 

you knew daichi for a lot of reasons. being the karasuno boys' volleyball captain, he's been noted as one of dependability. a solid rock in a foundation, and everything the student body says about him is relatively positive. 

but even as a third year, you can still remember his shenanigans like it was yesterday. how he dashed past you whilst racing the basketball team's captain, and accidentally hitting the fire alarm. you couldn't even count how many times he'd had a run in with the principal's toupee. 

but even now, in his plain tee and black shorts-- there's this responsible look in his eyes. a quality only built up by experience, and you mentally applaud him. especially when you learn the sheer amount of siblings he had. 

"here's the keys for the other gym." you drop the keys into his open palm.

"ah, thanks." a hand moves to the back of his neck, a tell tale sign of his nervousness. "but i thought michimiya was dropping these off."

"yui had something to do today, so she asked me to. hope you don't mind it being me instead of your girlfriend." 

his eyes widen, beginning to frantically shake his hands in front of him. "n-no! that's not what i meant at all! she's not even my girlfriend, i-" he cuts himself off at the sound of your laugh, as you clutch a palm on your mouth. a grin peaks through his annoyance. "hey! why're you laughing so bad?"

"i'm sorry but what the heck is this?" you push past him to point at the poster at the far right corner of the room.

"bikini girls? really?"

the blush that comes over his face is absolutely hilarious. "t-that was-!"

"man, who knew sawamura daichi, captain of the volleyball club was a boob man! wait until yui hears about this!" you almost double over in laughter, watching steam puff out of daichi's ears in utter embarrassment. 

"don't you have somewhere to be?" he tries to divert the subject, only to hear a crack of thunder beat you to a response. the onslaught of rain beginning to hit the window panes at full force, and the lights flickering. "... nevermind." 

"i meant to ask, is it okay if i'm in here?" looking down, you fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "this is the boys' club room after all." 

unfortunately for daichi, the implication doesn't go over his head. and the fact that you're confused about why his face seems to flush a further shade of red seems to seal the deal.

that man, does daichi hates being a guy right now. 

his initial intent was to simply shield you from the rain. the simple connection that he didn't want you to get further drenched, and fall sick because of the favor he asked for. but now?

he feels guilty when his eyes draw lower, the tune of your laughter and friendly banter playing like background music. he swallows at the translucency of your uniforms while dress shirt. how the faint blue shape of your bra cups your chest, and how the damp fabric seems to cling to your skin. the jealousy of the water droplets that run down your neck and into the divet of your collarbones. 

you're in the boys' volleyball club room right now. clothes and gym bags strewn about, the smell of teenage cologne, and all alone. 

"t-the rest of the club is in the gym with the coaches." daichi stutters, before coughing to clear his throat. "we can just wait until it lightens up and make a dash for it." 

"sounds like a plan! how's tobio doing with sho-- achoo!" you start, only to sneeze mid way. 

"crap, your clothes are soaked from the rain." you hurry to wipe your nose, as daichi hands a set of spare clothes toward you. "here."

you raise an eyebrow. "why do you have another set of gym clothes?"

"after hinata puked at our seijoh game, i'm not taking any more chances-- oh shit, wait!" he explains, before his eyes widen at your fingers undoing your blouse buttons, and hurriedly turning the other direction. 

you giggle at his panic stricken face, before proceeding to peel the dampened cloth off your body, and your mind still processing the fact he had to have mentioned seijoh. but then a voice chimes in from the back of your head, crying out desperately. 

"if i could turn back time and fix what i did, i would." 

it's truly unfortunate. and you genuinely sorry for daichi, as you dig into the pocket of your soaked blazer, and pressing the lone button on the stop watch. the pattering of the droplets against the window, halting in its path. the swirl of winds silencing, and the thunder strike through the air, simply pausing at your fingertips. 

you're not stupid. you knew where daichi's eyes trailed, especially as you drop your underwear and skirt to the floor, altogether. stepping out of the clothes and bounding toward the captain, sinking to your knees, and staring up at the frozen crimson tint of his face. 

you knew the moment you were pulled into this room, that this was a bad idea. and right then and there, your entire consciousness told you that this was your chance to be a good person. 

… but was tooru ever a good person? 

you let out a small gasp as you grab at his clothed bulge, already half hard through the cloth of his shorts. feeling yourself salivate, you begin to slowly pump. pawing at his size, coaxing him into a full erection. 

and honestly, you wonder what would go through daichi's head right now. what would this man think as you pulled down his athletic wear, and how you stared at him in pure wonder. what would he do when his cock lewdly slaps against his abdomen, and falls shy of your lips? what would he do when you swirl your tongue over hips tip, lapping up the weeping cry of arousal, and savoring his taste? taking him deeper, peering back up through fogging vision, as your struggle, and choke around him. coating him in spit, saliva dripping down your chin, and making an utter mess. 

you coo at how responsive he is, even when unconscious. the frozen look of his face is one of guilt, but the tips of his ears are the same shade of his cock. you wish to tell him that it's alright, as you were definitely more of a sinner than him. popping off of his length and heaving a full breath, you stand. cupping his face by the cheek, and gently nudging his face to meet yours. 

"sorry." your whisper fans hotly against his face, as you continue. moving his limbs almost like a doll, laying him against the floor, and having your legs on either side of his hips. 

but if you were going to have fun, it's only fair you'd share it. 

the thunder strikes far from where you are, and the heavy breeze makes the windows wobble. but daichi doesn't seem to care- as everything hits him like a truck. 

the slick of your mouth, and the choke of your throat. the pumps of your soft hand against his shaft- and how you brutally sink your weeping cunt onto him. the ungiving clench and sheer heat of your pussy had his hands flying to your hips. his eyes widening at the sight of your hands against his chest. fucking yourself onto his cock, moaning his name like a mantra, and lust blown gaze staring right back at him- his eyes roll back as everything becomes too much. 

he cums. rope upon rope of milky essence spills from him, legs shaking and earth shattering. daichi almost screams, as the pleasure is borderline painful. the sight of you was too much to handle, and undoubtedly made him double over. "ah shit-!"

daichi doesn't know how you paused time once again, just to make sure he doesn't cum inside you. he doesn't know how quickly you dropped to your knees, mouth wide open, and how he releases down your throat. how you milk every single drop out of him before freezing the world at will. 

all daichi knows is confusion and the fuzziness his head pounds with. when suddenly, you're not on top of him anymore. his form is turned, facing the wall again. shaky legs, and not laid against the floor. 

"daichi? are you okay?" you call out. 

he coughs, turning toward you. "y-yeah…" his confusion etching even more as you're wearing his spare shirt, still in your skirt, and a tilted head facing him. "... i think."

you laugh, hitting his shoulder playfully. "goodness, does the lightning scare you so bad? you look like someone just sucked the soul outta ya!" 

he thinks you don't know a thing. the sight of your walls sucking him in fresh in his mind makes heat, and guilt simultaneously pool at his gut. he thinks you're the most innocent soul on earth when you lean in toward him, pressing your palm on his forehead, and giving him an eyeful that makes his breath hitch, before taking a step back. 

"don't get sick on me now, captain. you take care of everyone else, so who's going to take care of you?" you tell him off with a wink, only for him to hum an incoherent response, and his mind still buzzing. 

was that all his imagination? 

"oh look! it's lightening up!" you snap him out of his train of thought when you smile, grabbing his hand, pulling him forward. "let's make a run for it!" 

"w-wait!" he stops your other hand from turning the door knob. 

you turn toward him, eyebrows raised. "huh?"

it definitely catches you off guard as daichi leans in to look into your eyes. you feel your heart pound in your ears when you stare back. the caramel shade of his skin and the dark pupils trying to analyze you- trying to figure you out. "d-daichi?" you stutter out. 

"a-ah… sorry." he pulls back before muttering something under his breath. something about it feeling real. 

and it almost hurts as you facade innocence, letting go of his hand and racing toward karasuno's second gym. bags over your heads as you pound against the door, and laugh heartily as kageyama messes up a serve in your presence. it almost hurts as your cunt weeps arousal, and ruins your new, navy blue set of panties. 

because it's ironic at how much you told tooru how much you loved the rain. how fun it was as a child to jump into puddles, and dance. how the pattering felt like the knock on a door and a call out to play. how easily rain covered for all the moans that daichi never got to hear when you came around him, walls creaming him in your slick. how the wind howls loudly so that no one could hear you babble your gratitude, and at how thankful you were. and how rain was the best excuse for your tears. the most viable excuse of why your face was an utter mess the other day. 

and how it seemed to rain the same day tooru broke your heart in two. 

[rollflasher]

Another Sonic ramble

So once again I’m here with one of my rambles about my incredibly subjective view of how the Sonic series should be handled! *Beat*

...anyway.

So, one of the more recurring opinions on the fandom is that Sonic games should be written by Ian Flynn, I have talked before about the gripes I have with his writing and why I disagree with this but this post is not entirely about him, but rather a more general topic that has been bugging me for a long time.

The other day I was watching a video speculating about the upcoming Sonic Rangers, there’s not much to write home since it was pretty well made but there’s a particular part that inspired me to do this post and talk about it with other fans to discuss it.

See, at one point the video critisized the fact that Sonic Forces was written by a Japanese writer because they have to re-write the script in English and that can cause problems with localization, and that it would be better to have western writers from the get-go since Sonic’s main demographic comes from there, while making an off-hand suggestion that Ian Flynn could be a main choice. While I can see where they’re coming from, my response was a simple:

‘‘Absolutely, not’‘

See, I have a lot of issues with this to put it bluntly and I’ll try to break them down and explain them the best I can since they’re pretty subjective in nature, but I’m bringing this up because I want you guys to share your thoughts as well.

So, why does it bug me so much the idea of Sonic being handled by western creators?

In my case, the main reasons are because Sonic loses a core part of it’s appeal because of this, the fact that SEGA of Japan seems to have a better grasp of the franchise’s tone and characters and there’s the very subjective point that, in my eyes, American versions of Japanese franchises were always nothing more than dumbed down products of the source material.

To start with my first point, whenever someone talks about Sonic’s creation, a lot of people are quick to point out that our favorite blue hedgehog and his games were inspired by western pop culture and cartoons, and that is true, however oftenly they forget to mention a core thing that not only inspired, but also formed part of the core identity of this franchise.

Sonic is very inspired on anime, and at heart this franchise is a shonen.

(This image by The Great Lange expresses more clearly what I mean)

Generally, the most acknowledgement anime gets on it’s hand on Sonic is the mentions of Sonic being inspired by Dragon Ball, particularly the Super Saiyan, but there’s so much more than that, as Sonic blatantly takes inspiration from Studio Ghibli films specially in games like Sonic 3, which draws a lot of inspiration from Laputa: Castle in the Sky, this great post shows proof that this is not a coincidence.

And it doesn’t stop there, Shiro Maekawa himself has stated that SA2′s story (and in particular, the characters of Shadow and Maria) draw a lot of inspiration from the manga Please Save My Earth.

Even Sonic’s character design resembles shonen protagonists moreso than the main characters of silent cartoons, don’t believe me?

Sure, Sonic has a cartoony anatomy, no one can deny that, but he also exhibits a lot of traits from shonen characters such as spiky hair/quills (?), dynamic posing, a confident, courageous and energetic personality and most importantly, fighting spirit.

If you compare Sonic’s personality and more specifically, his abilities and moves to, say, cartoon speedy characters like the Road Runner, there’s a pretty big disconnection between him and western cartoon characters. Hell, this disconnection is even just as present if you compare him with a character like The Flash from DC.

Simply put, Sonic acts, moves and more importantly, fights like a shonen anime character. He doesn’t just go Super Saiyan and that’s it. Here’s even a quick comparison if necessary.

And this is important because this doesn’t apply just to him, but the whole franchise as a whole and when it takes a more western approach, all of these details are kinda lost or more downplayed, of course this depends on the artists and there’s YMMV at hand, but I think my point is clear.

My second point is...SoJ has consistently proven they have a much clearer grasp on how Sonic’s world and characters are compared to SoA.

Hear me out, yes, Sonic 06 and ShtH exist and yes, SoJ is not perfect by any means. But hear me out...when did the characters start to get flanderized and turned into parodies of themselves? In the 2010s...and when did SEGA move from Japanese to western writers in the games?

Of course it was more then that since there’s a whole tone shift that came with this decade and the new writers, but it’s not a coincidence that when writing in Sonic started to decay, western writers also happened to get on board with the games.

Besides that, SoA has a wide history of not getting Sonic’s tone and characters, from how they made media without much of Sonic Team’s input, to altering how characters are seen in the west. (Such as how they amped up Sonic’s attitude in their media or how the English scripts of the games featured things like Sonic seemingly barely tolerating Amy while the JP scripts portrayed this as Sonic just not understanding girls all that well instead, or for more recent examples, the addition of the ‘’torture’’ line in Forces). Not only that, but even ignoring obvious infamous writers like Ken Penders, even the ‘’best’’ writers from the western side of Sonic are still not above of giving us Pontaff-esque gems.

Like this one.

Or alternatively, I feel like sometimes western writers on Sonic rely a bit too much on their personal vision about Sonic which may or may not be a good thing, clear examples of this are Ian Flynn himself and Pontaff.

By contrast, while SoJ has it’s own share of notorious inconsistencies when dealing with writing (The 2000s era is a big offender), it seems that for them Sonic hasn’t changed much and this is visible not only on the JP scripts of the Modern games which are for the most part better than the ENG ones, but also things like the Sonic Channel comics and the recent one-shots they made with Sonic interacting with the cast show that for all intents and purposes, the Japanese’s staff vision of Sonic is much more clear and consistent compared to the west. Because of this, I’d rather have a good Japanese writer on Sonic games with the localization being focused on being faithful with the original script than have a more western writers dramatically changing the characters. (I don’t mention the tone since either way, SEGA is the one in charge of that and the writers have to follow that)

My last and very subjective point is that, at least for me, everything SoA does with Sonic involving the writing and canon feels like a dumbed down version of the source material. One of the reasons it bugs me so much that in the latest decade Sonic has taken a more western direction is because a lot of what I pointed out gets lost as a result, even if some of those elements are still there, you can tell they’re more downplayed with products like the Tyson Hesse shorts having a more predominant cartoon direction. If any of you have been following my blog for a long time, you should be aware that just because I prefer the Japanese Sonic content doesn’t mean I won’t give the western products a chance, my enjoyment for Mania, the Tyson Hesse shorts and the movie should be a testament of that, but at the same time I can’t help but being sour about the fact that because of these products, we don’t have stuff like a new anime for Sonic or even a serialized ‘’main’’ manga as an alternative for the comics, and my hype for these products is generally more subdued as a result since I’d wish SEGA rather spent that money and resources on more Japanese content than just merchandise.

In particular, because Sonic is a Japanese franchise with a notorious inspiration from anime, what I get from this is a pretty big contradiction. I know Sonic is much more popular on the west but...is it really necessary for his game or products to be handled by western creators to keep their appeal?

For instance, imagine if Dragon Ball’s manga and anime got replaced by western comics and animated series because of it’s world-wide appeal, would that really be the same?

Or imagine the same thing with Fullmetal Alchemist, a pretty aclaimed anime that has a lot of western influence. Would it really not matter at all if it’s Japanese products were replaced with western ones?

At least for me, it wouldn’t.

And what I said about American versions of Japanese franchises being nothing more than watered down versions of the source material? I have that view because of countless examples.

Mega Man and how the English manuals removed a lot of important information about the story of the Blue Bomber’s game and world, causing a lot of plot holes in the process.

American remakes like Godzilla 1998 or Dragon Ball Evolution being an in-name only version of the source material.

Or the many censored anime English dubs from the 2000s, for instance, whenever I see the Yu-Gi-Oh! dubs, I only see a very dumbed down and childish version of a show that was originally a shonen.

And I know that all of these things don’t have to necessarely get lost since every creator is different and there’s franchises like Avatar which are made on the west but draw a lot of inspiration from anime and I’m aware of that, and I want to make it clear that I’m not trying to say that American writers are not allowed to work on Sonic, what I’m trying to say is that inevitably there’s always gonna be some culture dissonance and clash when writers from another culture handle a foreign franchise. And even with examples like ATLA, I think being made by one culture while being inspired by the other is actually a big part of these franchises appeal and it’s something that can’t simply be replicated by handing it to creators from that specific culture they draw inspiration from.

I think James Rolfe’s quote about the same thing with the Godzilla franchise sums up how I feel about this.

‘‘It’s like champagne, anybody can make their own and call it champagne, but unless it’s from Champagne France, it’s not real champagne’‘

So, this last part was very subjective, but I think this post in general sums up why I dislike so much the idea of Sonic having western writers specifically in the games or just focusing more on that side in general.

But what do you guys think? I guess I am too biased so that’s why I wanted to ask for opinions and discuss this topic.

[stay-midnight]

Halloween of SKidz 1

Serial Killer! Hyunjin x MALE Reader

Word Count: 3.8K Words

This does not represent Hwang Hyunjin, JYP or any of the Stray Kids members and are only for fictional and entertainment purposes.

TW //: Explicit Smut, Murder, Blood, Reader’s death at the end, Angst and Death.

Kinks: HARD DOM! Hyunjin, WHINY SUB! Reader, Slight Exhibitionism, Toys (specifically a vibrator), Handcuffs, Orgasm Denial, Degradation, Marking, Spanking, Eating Out, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up), Creampie, Master Kink, Slight Nipple Play and Spitting.

Please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes..

a/n: sksksks, This is my first work here on tumblr, It isn’t halloween yet but i’ll hopefully post 4 of these in this month while the other four on october. I’ll do one for every member and they’ll all be male reader cuz we need more of those uwu!

Laughter is echoing around the dark and empty road, the streetlights flickering on and off.

“99” the man named Hyunjin spoke in a deep voice as he pulled out the knife out of the person that stopped breathing seconds ago.

“One more, I just need to kill one more and I’ll reach triple digits!” he laughed out as he swung his knife, removing the blood from it.

He laughed as he looked at the body that is lying on the cold and hard road, still and unresponsive. He squatted down and poked the body with the edge of his knife, “Pathetic human, it wasn’t even fun trying to chase you, who knew someone could be as stupid as to go on a silent road, not even a car is passing by.” he mocked the dead human.

He sighed and got up from his squatted position, he placed his hands in his pocket and lifted his hood. Even just after killing someone, he already wants more bodies to hit the floor. He grins evilly, excited for his next victim.

You blink your eyes open as the sound of an alarm bounced around your walls. You groaned and tried to hit the alarm with your eyes closed.

In the end the alarm fell down, “That’s the fourth clock that I broke this month!” You whined out before sighing and picking the broken alarm clock and placing it in the trash bin near the door of your bedroom.

You rubbed your blurry eyes and walked to a side of the room, turning the knob and opening the door to the bathroom.

Sighing, “I have no classes today but I still have to revise for my finals..” You said to yourself as you opened the cabinet and you reached out to grab a toothbrush as you started to do your morning routine of bathing and eating breakfast.

. . .

Chewing on the bacon as you sat on your couch bored, you decided to turn on the tv as to see if there is anything interesting. Kid’s Cartoons started playing, you immediately switched it to the news channel.

“News just in: Another dead body was found this early morning.” The male newscaster started, you were perplexed as it was the 11th dead body this month and they haven’t caught the killer yet.

“Mhmm.. They were found dead with a cut that pierced through his heart but the blood was already dried out when it was found, the forensics recently said that they were killed atleast 7 hours ago, meaning that they were killed at about 1AM at midnight.” The female newscaster explained.

The male frowned, “We advise all of you to stay at your homes as much as possible until the killer has been caught.” He advised seriously.��

She nodded, “That’s all we have today for the case about the killings, sadly the police haven’t found that many evidences and the other towns lost the trail on the killer. We’ll keep you updated as best as we can, but until that, this is goodbye for now.” She finished and waved at the camera.

You sighed and closed the television, “Hopefully the killer gets caught soon.” You mumbled before taking a sip of your water.

You yawned as you entered the small cafe, the bell ringing. You blink away the tiredness in your eyes at the lack of sleep last night, the small cafe was seemingly packed and you heard murmuring around you, catching a few words like “killers” and “bodies”.

You walked over into the counter and squinted your eyes while looking at the menu. Nothing really caught your eye so you just went with ordering a Strawberry Cheesecake with a creamy cafe.

After taking your order, you walked into a corner and sat on a empty table there. You took out your laptop and started studying for your finals.

. . .

The once packed cafe is now mostly empty and deserted with only 4-5 people around.

You have been revising and studying for 2 hours already. You were struggling with some parts from Mathematics and Physics, you heard the hanging bell ring for the umpteenth time but of course ignored it again.

. . .

Hyunjin looked around and saw it a bit empty, he was planning to kill the cafe barista for annoying him last time but he wanted a special one for his 100th. He was about to leave until he saw a focused male at a corner of the cafe. He furrowed his eyebrows and walked closer to take a look, his mouth hung agape at your mesmerizing facial features.

He decided to take a seat in front of you, you were snapped out of your focused trance as an attractive stranger took a seat in front of you. “Uh.. There’s many seats around available..” you trailed, “I know.” he said in a bored tone,

“You seemed interesting so I decided to approach you.” he smiled and pushed your books to clear the table a bit. He placed his chin on his hand and studied you more, how cute you look focusing on your studies or how pretty you were thinking.

You sighed and closed your laptop, rubbing your tired eyes in the process. noticing the stranger in front of you with his gaze studying you. “Uh.. Hello?” You said, waving your hands in front of his face.

Hyunjin broke out from his trance and answered, “Hi..” he started, “What’s your name?” he asked boldly,

You were taken aback by his boldness and confidence seemed to flow in him. You slightly blushed, “[Y/N]” you answered, “A pretty name for someone pretty..” he smiled seductively at you while you blushed more.

“What about you? What’s your name?” You asked him meekly,

“My name is Hyunjin, pretty boy.” He winked at you suggestively. “Pretty boy? Really though?” You awkwardly giggled out.

“Of course, like I said you are really attractive.” He smirked looking at you, his finger drumming his cheek. “Well, you are too..” you smiled as you placed your laptop back to your bag.

“Mhmm~ In that case, would you like to get dinner tonight?” he asked grinning.

You contemplated for a bit before nodding slowly, “Can I have your number then?” he asked, grinning wider. You once again nodded “Sure..” You opened your phone and going to ‘Add Contact’.

You hand your phone over to him and smiled, standing up and grabbing your bag hoisting it over your shoulder, waiting for him to finishing inputting his number in it.

He hands you your phone, “Thank you Hyunjin? Or was it Hinjin?” You furrowed your eyebrows. He chuckled “It’s Hyunjin but Master sounds better.” He winked one last time and stood up to leave, leaving your flustered self standing there.

You were out of it on your way home that you hit your head on a street pole, it’s not really everyday that you get asked out by someone attractive.

You practically cheered when you arrive at your apartment then you heard your phone ding, you read the message and smiled. “Hi, pretty boy~ The venue for our date is the bar across the road from the cafe earlier, don’t be late tonight~ ;)” You giggled slightly at the wink emoji.

You responded with, “Of course, I won’t~ What’s with the wink emoji?

“I don’t know~ maybe we’ll do something after our date?~” he messaged back,

You blushed as you walk to your room and lay down bed, feeling the soft sheets and letting out a sound of satisfaction.

“Maybe?~” You flirted back,

“Aww, are you eager pretty boy?” he sent back,

“I’m not! Anyways let me get my rest so I have atleast enough energy tonight.” You heard your phone ring loudly which made you yelp and accidentally threw your phone into the air landing softly at your lap.

You gulped and answered it, “H-Hello?” you cursed under your breath at your stuttering.

. . .

He smirked when he heard your stuttering, “Pretty boy needs enough energy for tonight? What for?” he teased, thoughts of you riding him going through his head.

His tongue licking his bottom lip at his thoughts, He heard you pout through the phone, “N-Not for that, I need energy to converse with you and I’m tired from revising and studying.” You explained,

“For what? I didn’t say anything,” he chuckled, “Go to sleep then, you clearly need it for tonight.” he said, ending the call. You swear that you heard him smirk and that made you a bit aroused especially at his sexy tone of voice.

You sighed, setting an alarm, placing your phone at the nightstand and laying back down on the bed, thinking about the possibilities on what’s going to happen on the date.

You smiled, thinking optimistically. You fluttered your eyes closed, eventually falling asleep.

You blink your eyes open at the sound of the more soothing alarm sound than this morning, You checked the time and you still have 1 hour and 30 minutes to prepare.

You dragged yourself out of your bed and walked inside to the door at the corner of your bedroom.

You stripped yourself off your clothes and took a hot shower, feeling the warm water flow down to your chest and the bottom part of your body as you sigh at the calming sound of the shower.

. . .

You got out of the shower about 20 minutes and wrapped a towel around your waist, humming a tune. You walked out of the bathroom, checking the time. You still have 30 minutes. You got dressed in casual clothing, a blue t-shirt and tight jeans.

You arrived at the bar, you only brung a phone with you. You noticed that the bar was slightly empty possibly due to the fact that a killer is on the loose. You looked around for a tall and attractive male with a headband.

You spotted him at the corner of the bar and walked over to his table, “Hello pretty boy, on time I see?” he smirked, “Of course, It would be rude to arrive late..” you said shyly.

He hummed and asked, “Do you want any drinks?” he asked looking at you, you shook your head “I have really low alcohol tolerance so I’d prefer not to.” you said looking at him with a small smile.

He nods and stood up to walk over to the counter to order. You sat down and waited for Hyunjin to walk back as you played with your fingers, a bit nervous.

. . .

Hyunjin came back with 2 glasses of water and a pie, “Ooh~ What pie is that?” You asked smiling from ear to ear. “Pumpkin.” he said nonchalantly as he placed the food in front of you.

You hummed in approval and satisfaction of your order, You grabbed the fork and cut a small piece before placing it in your mouth, “It’s really good!” You said after swallowing it.

While the both of you are eating, you asked him questions as he asked you some as well and you got to know him better. “Do you have any deep dark secrets?” You asked looking at him with a small smirk,

He flinched and looked at you seriously, “You don’t hav—” You started, he cutted you off saying, “I don’t have any pretty boy, unless you count me wanting to do dirty things to that innocent body of yours, a deep dark secret.” he smirked leaning closer to you.

Your face immediately turned to that of a tomato and you fumbled around your words, “I- Uh-” are the only things that came out of your mouth.

“What is it hmm? Cat’s got your tongue pretty boy?” He teased, you felt a hand sneak on your thighs, rubbing and trailing it softly, seemingly getting closer at the middle of your legs.

You bit your lips as he kneads your thighs, which made you let out a breath shakily. “Are you liking this pretty boy?” You nod your head slightly and he noticed it. “Needy slut, you have no shame at all do you? I bet you wouldn’t mind if we get caught fucking in public.”

You let out a low whimper, “Answer me, you dumb slut.” He slaps your thighs which made you yelp from your seat, “I-I” was all you could say.

He clicked his tongue and grips your thighs harshly with his large hands.

“Do you want to leave now?” he smirks widely at you. “Y-Yes..” you stuttered out shyly but a sudden bad feeling arose on your stomach.

He chuckled and stood up, grabbing your hands and leading you out of the bar.

He leads you to his car at the parking lot and seated you on the shotgun seat.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and his other hand placed on your thighs squeezing and slapping it a number of times making you bite your bottom lip preventing those lewd sounds from coming out.

You still felt that bad feeling at your stomach, somehow telling you to leave and run but ignored it due to your spark of arousal and ignorance.

. . .

He parked his car at the front of his house, it was a small and cozy house at a very silent part of the neighborhood. You got out of the car and he did as well.

After getting out of the car, he walked over to you and dragged you inside his house.

As soon as you enter through door and walked inside his house, he closes the door behind him and pins you against a wall, his tongue slid on his bottom lip before kissing you against the wall roughly.

Low moans left your mouth and when you parted your lips slightly, he inserted his tongue forcefully, tasting every corners of your mouth as you gripped his shirt tightly.

He slapped the side of your hips signaling you to jump, you complied and jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pulled you off the wall and he made his way to his bedroom, keeping both your lips tightly locked.

Once you both arrive at his room, he placed you down the small bed and walked over to his closet. Grabbing a black box and looking at you lustfully. You sat up, blushing and eyed the box curiously, “What’s inside that?” You said and pointed at the box.

“Some interesting stuff..” he trailed off and looked at you smirking.

You watched as he pulled out a vibrator and handcuffs. You blushed redder as he pulled out those items but anticipating on what’s about to happen.

He walked over to you and placed the items on the nightstand. “Strip.” he commanded.

You nodded shyly before removing your shirt and tugging your pants off, leaving you on your boxers. He clicked his tongue, “All of your clothes.” he said in a deeper tone.

You shook your head, disobeying him. He growled before forcing you on your hands and knees on the bed, which made you whimper at the rough treatment.

“Dumb slut, can’t even follow simple orders, disobey me again and I’ll make sure you’ll never cum tonight.” he said to you as he handcuffed your hands behind your back.

“I’m sorry Hyunjin..” you said, he spanked you harshly through your boxers which made you release a loud moan. “Is that what you should call me?” he growled out as he spanked you again more roughly.

“M-Master..!” you moaned out loudly, “That’s my good slut.” he said smirking.

You squirmed a bit at your handcuffed hands behind you. “Don’t move, you slut.” he said as he spanked you again.

He pulled down your boxers roughly and licked his lips at the sight of your hole, he spat on your hole before placing his face between your cheeks and spreading it wider.

You were fully red at being exposed to him, “Ah~ M-Master f-fuck..” you moaned out loudly, echoing around the room.

He shoved his tongue down your hole and spreading your cheeks wider to go deeper while you let out a string of lewd moans at the feeling of his wet muscle exploring your walls.

You felt that you could cum any second but then he pulled his tongue out which made you whine. He flipped you over on your back, which made you a bit uncomfortable at the position because of the handcuffs.

He looked down at you and chuckled at your squirming, his eyes move from you to your hard cock, your tip angry-red. He jerked it you off slowly making you whine, “Go f-faster p-please..” you breathed out shakily.

He slapped your thighs again harshly, “Don’t speak unless I tell you to.” he said darkly, you whimpered at his tone of voice and closed your mouth.

You look up at him, still fully clothed. Which formed a pout on your lips, you wanted see all of him as well. He noticed the pout at your gaze. He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off him, revealing his well-toned abs which made you eye it like a candy.

He then unbuckled his pants and pulled it down, revealing a huge tent in the middle of his boxers which made you moan at the sight.

He chuckled and grabbed the vibrator off the nightstand. He then trailed the vibrator down your chest on the highest setting, which made you whine at the pleasure.

He placed the vibrator on top of one of your nipples, you let out a very lewd moan which turned on Hyunjin even more.

He then trailed it down even farther until it reached your cock, he placed it on the tip of your cock which made you scream at the pleasure, “M-Master~! T-That feels so good~” he saw your cock twitch which made him pull the vibrator away and smirking. “You won’t cum unless I want you to, you slut.” you led out the loudest whine which made Hyunjin smirk even wider,

“Cute. You look so cute like this, slut. So fucked out, I wanna hear you beg for me to let you cum and for me to pound into you like the cockwhore you are.” he said looking at you lustfully.

Hyunjin kissed you passionately with a slight hint of roughness. He pulled away and inserted his fingers into your mouth, you licked his fingers—swirling your tongue on it. Hyunjin pulled it out before reaching down and pushing a finger into your hole.

You moaned at the entry, clenching tightly around his finger. “Relax, slut.” he said, leaning down to kiss you to distract from his finger being inside you.

He inserted a second one which made you moan against his mouth. He inserted a third one immediately, fucking you at fast pace with his long and slender fingers.

You felt a coil at the pit of your stomach, “M-Master, I’m going to cum..~” you moaned out, muffled by his tongue being inside your mouth.

He pulls away from your mouth and stopped thrusting his fingers. “You’re not gonna cum until I do.” he strictly said as you whined loudly once again at your orgasm being denied a second time.

Tears formed in your eyes, looking away from him at your once again ruined orgasm, “Gonna cry now?” he smirked as he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him “Stupid slut, look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You looked at him, your eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry m-master..” you whimpered out,

He leans down to your right ear, “I said what I said, I’m gonna make you beg for me.” he whispered to you, biting the lobe of it.

You whined silently at this and nodded. “Now, Is my needy slut ready for my cock?”

“Y-Yes, m-master..” you stuttered out, “Beg for it.” he said, smirking again.

“M-Master, P-Pound into me like the w-whore that I a-am and f-fill me u-up with your cum.” you begged desperately.

He smiled, he lifted one of your legs and licked his lips once again at the sight of your needy hole clenching around nothing. “Look at your hole clenching, pathetic.” He said before slamming into you deeply, not giving you time to adjust before pulling out and slam back with as much force.

You screamed at his actions, clenching tightly around his cock. “M-Master!!!” you screamed out, squirming—trying to break free from the cuffs.

He repeatedly slammed into you, he found your prostate and hit it with every thrust as all you could do was let out screams and moans at the overwhelming pleasure.

“I’m c-close.. Please p-please let me cum~ Fuck~!” You moaned out. He groans and nodded, “Cum for me, pretty boy.”

You moaned loudly as your cum shot out to your chest and some reaching Hyunjin's chest.

He continued his harsh pace, overstimulation you, which made let out a loud whine at your hole and prostate being abused by him.

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” he groaned out. “S-So good m-master...” you gasped out as he hit your prostate for the umpteenth time.

His thrusts went sloppy, meaning he was close. You felt that familiar coil at your stomach. “I-I’m close again~..” you whined out as he leant down and placed some visible hickeys on your chest. “Cum with me.” he breathed out as he slammed into you faster and harsher.

You screamed as you came undone a second time, your body shuddering at your second orgasm. He came deep inside you a second later.

You moaned at the feeling of his cum staining your walls. He pulls out of you as he watch the cum drip out of your abused hole. You whined at cum dripping out of you but relaxed.

You blink twice, trying to blink away the tiredness but fell asleep as Hyunjin heard your light snores. He smiled but soon turned to a frown as he snapped back to reality.

He realized that you’re supposed to be his victim. “Just another hour atleast..” he was happy with you but he needed to kill you.

He turned you over slightly to uncuff you, he pulled the cuffs and placed them at the nightstand, next to the vibrator.

He got a damp towel and wiped your cum off his chest. He walked over to you and cleaned your own cum from your chest as he lifted your legs carefully to wipe the cum dripping out of your hole.

He laid right next to you and closed his eyes, sighing sadly as this was about to end.

He woke up at the middle of the night and got up, frowning. he grabbed a knife from the black box earlier and looked at you as he tried to calm his breathing down.

He walked over to you, “I’m sorry [Y/N]..” he said as he leaned down to give you a soft peck on the lips. He raised the knife up, his hands trembling “I’m really sorry..” he said as a single tear slipped down his cheek.

He brung the knife down to your heart and red stained his bedsheets. He sobbed silently because you’re the only one that made him feel that kind of way.

[angelrider13]

A Barren Sea of Sun-Bleached Bones

Sooooooo this is something that I’ve been thinking about off and on for a while now and given that I’ve had literally nothing better to do at work because everything has gone cuckoo bananapuffs, have some rambles! (*pokes @hamelin-born because it sounds like you’re also having a rough time lately and could use a pick me up*)

-

When Thalassa wakes up in a desert with twin suns beating down on her, her first thought is ‘this might as well happen’. Her second thought is ‘why the fuck is this happening?”

(Titan, brother, why would you do this to me? When did I wrong you???)

She has no idea where she is and eventually she succumbs to the heat. When she wates, she finds herself in the care of a woman who introduces herself as Shmi Skywalker and explains that her husband, Cliegg Lars, found her unconscious in the desert.

She’s in Star Wars. On Tatooine of all places. Because of course she is. In her first life, Thalassa wasn’t overly familiar with story - she’d seen the first 6 movies, a few episodes of the various cartoons here and there, but she knows that there is a wider knowledge base that she never looked twice at and is therefore missing.

What she does know is this: Tatooine is run by slavers.

Tatooine is a slave planet and everyone knows but no one cares enough to stop it.

Well then.

Thalassa settles in and recovers and gets to know her rescuers. With Shmi married to Cliegg (happily so and by her own choice, Thalassa checked), it’s clear that the timeline is somewhere between Episodes 1 and 2. Something she doesn’t particularly care about much aside from the fact that it means war has not broken out. Yet. Meaning that larger entities will not yet be putting much effort into winning the Hutt’s favor - which in turn means that no one will be looking to closely at the Outer Rim desert planet. Or that, if they do, they will look the other way. As always.

So Thalassa stays and watches and explores and learns. She helps around the homestead, walks through the cities. She makes note of who owns slaves and who doesn’t. She observes any slave quarters she comes across. She grows close with Shmi and Cliegg ad teases young Owen about his budding romance with Beru.

And sometimes, she just walks out into the desert and disappears for days, weeks.

There are echoes, you see, all round the desert. A song on the wind, screams in the shifting sands. Tatooine wasn’t always a Desert. Many, many, many, moons ago, it was a Sea. And that is not something easily forgotten. Deserts aren’t so different after all - their shifting sands hide treasures as easily as waves and their memories stretch just as long.

It is for this reason that Thalassa has lasted as long as she had. In another life, perhaps this planet could have been Hers. In this life, it is the echoes of that past that sustain her when she is so far from her own Sea.

Shmi frets over her whenever se returns from these wanderings for Thalassa’s skin is perpetually dry and cracked, splitting open whenever she so much as twitches. Her hair is bleached and brittle and the sands have carved deep lines into her face. (She hasn’t dared changing shapes since she arrived - she suspects she would simply fall apart if she tried.) Shmi continues to rub salves into her skin and Cliegg tries to caution her against further trips, to at least make them shorter, to take more water, something.

And Thalassa smiles because they care, but their little moisture farm would never produce enough water to sustain her. Besides, she can’t stop yet.

“I’m searching for something,” she says.

“What?” Cliegg asks as Shmi bandages her arms, worry shinning in their eyes.

Thalassa smiles wistfully. “A memory.”

-

She finds it eventually. It takes her two years of looking and waiting and listening, but Thalassa finds the heart of the memory, of the Sea. The entrance could have been great once. A temple, perhaps. Or a palace. Or probably none of those things and something else entirely. But is was something once. Something grand. Now it is little more than weathered stone - nothing other than a natural formation if one doesn’t know how to look. It’s a maze of caverns deep underground and Thalassa can see were once great arches and painted tiles and etched columns. The echoes that were only faint whispers on the wind are stronger here - louder, firmer, solid. Real. She can see what once was and what now is. What was once a vast Sea is not little more than a well. A small pool no longer deep or large enough to flow through underground riverbeds.

There is still enough water for Thalassa to submerge herself completely. The water is soothing against her dry, cracked skin - an ancient, dying Sea welcoming one of its own. Thalassa opens herself to this strange-familiar Sea, lets it see all of her and in turn it grants Thalassa the same.

Tatooine was once a water planet - vast and deep and blue. But time marches on and things change as they always do. The slightest of shifts in the chemical makeup of the atmosphere, the gravitational axis tilting a single degree to the left. Small hings. Little things. But a single change is always enough and Tatooine began to dry up until it became as it is today. Thalassa can feel the boundless rage of this dying Sea at the state of its domain today. Not so much the state of its waters - change is what it is and there is no escaping it - but the state its people. Because Seas, regardless of time and place and origin, are the same. Seas are free. And Tatooine has been chained and branded and bound for so long that its people have forgotten any other way to be.

But the Sea remembers.

The Desert remembers.

And it rages at this slight, at this betrayal, at this abomination that has been allowed to fester at among its people so long unchecked.

Very well, Thalassa promises, The infection will be cut out.

Tatooine’s Sea is grateful and offers what is left of its dying depths to the liberation of its children.

Thalassa’s skin knits together, the ever present rash in her throat fades, the dryness in her lungs vanishes. She takes stock, considers, and changes. Scales, claws, a tail. It feels good. The water is not deep enough, vast enough for Leviathan, but she changes anyway, filling the cavern with her massive form. She stretches and twists and basks in her ability to be once more. She changes. Again and again and again. An old woman bent with age, a young boy with scraped knees, a Zabrak male, an elderly Rodian, a Twi’liek woman, a Jawa just because she can. It has been so long. Tatooine’s Sea is laughing at her, she can tell, but she doesn’t mind.

The Desert greets her when she finally emerges, its voice a twin of the Sea’s, different that what she is used to but no less welcome. It reminds her of her stone brother.

-

Thalassa returns to the Lars-Skywalker homestead and Shmi is already pulling out medical supplies before she registers the shine of Thalassa’s hair, the unblemished skin of her face.

“It was a gift,” she explains when Shmi strips her down anyway and runs her hands over smooth skin she swears was falling apart only a week ago.

Thalassa lets them fuss for two days before she wanders off again. She made a promise after all and she’s had time to observe. She knows who is rotten and who is not. The Hutts for one. The most obvious blight. But to cut them out so soon, so quickly, without any plan or safety net would do Tatooine children no favors. One day. But not yet. She must start small. She knows where to go first.

There is a man who live in Mos Entha with a dozen slaves to his name. Thalassa does not claim knowledge of all the races this universe has to offer, but she knows children when she sees them. All of them are young. All of them are pleasing to the eye. All of them are dressed in little more than scraps of sheer cloth.

The man dies that night.

In the morning, Thalassa returns to Shmi and Cliegg with a dozen children of various races peeking out from behind her legs.

“She was like you,” Thalassa tells the children of Shmi before she ushers Cliegg out of the room when Shmi pulls out a scanner and Beru starts setting up medical supplies.

(Thalassa has seen the scar on Shmi’s hip. She knows what used to live under Shmi’s skin.)

Cliegg sets up rooms for the kids without protest and the farm gains a dozen helpers. Owen is a gruff, but protective, older brother. Shmi and Beru are both gentle and patient even when the children finally feel secure enough to start testing boundaries and act out.

This is how it starts.

-

Thalassa cannot bring everyone back to the homestead, of course. But she’s watched. She knows. Slaves are never content to be slaves. And here they are survivors born of both the Desert and the Sea. They will find a way. Secret languages. hidden paths, safe houses. Thalassa does not have to be a member of their community to know.

Slavers start disappearing. The smugglers, the mercenaries, the masters. No one dealing in the trade of sentient beings is safe.

Shmi finally confronts her about it he third time she brings home a group to be de-chipped. Shmi would never turn them away - that’s not in her nature - and Thalassa has provided them with enough funds for the extra mouths (The Desert and the Sea both have their secrets and guard treasures well from outsiders. But not from on of their own.), but she does wonder what, exactly, her friend thinks she’s doing.

“Tatooine used to be a Sea,” Thalassa says when she asks as she looks out in the desert. “Do you know what a Sea is?”

Shmi may have lived in a desert all her life, but she is not stupid and she is a little indignant that Thalassa thinks she might be. “A large body of water,” she answers, keeping the frown out of her voice and off her face.

Thalassa smiles. “You’re not wrong. Most people would agree with you. But I asked what a Sea was, not how to describe it.”

Shmi blinks, thrown by the direction this entire conversation has taken.

“A Sea,” Thalassa continues without looking away from the vast stretch of sand, “is freedom.”

Oh, Shmi thinks.

“Tatooine used to be a Sea,” Thalassa says again, “And such a thing leaves echoes. A Desert is not so different, after all. They are no place for chains and brands and chips.” Thalassa spits the last word as if it is the most vile poison and Shmi wonders if she truly understands what such a life is like to hate it so.

“There is a Sea inside of me,” Thalassa says, turning to look at Shmi with glowing gold eyes, “And it is raging at the way your Sea and Desert have been bound. The have been screaming for so long, Shmi, so long. I will free them even if I have to cut down every slaver myself.”

Shmi believes her. Not only that, but she believe Thalassa ca do it. Her friend has always been an odd one. Human in appearance, but never quite right. Something easy to pass off in a universe such as theirs. But the way she seems to whither in the desert is like nothing Shmi has ever seen. The cracks that once carved themselves into Thalassa’s flesh - and still do whenever she ventures out too far for too long - had never seemed as simple as a reaction to the body’s lack of water or exposure to heat. And then one day Thalassa healed. She healed and she stated wearing different skins. Shmi has heard people start calling her Quyllur of the Many Faces. They have stories about beings like her - whispers passed down in he dark of night while huddled together for warmth. Thalassa does not know these stories. She does not know their language or culture or history. She is something different. But she is something similar enough.

-

Thalassa cleans Tatooine of filth one slaver at a time. None of them can quite figure out why they are being hunted, only that they are. Some try to flee or buy protection. Some even petition the Hutts fir help. But Thalassa is an ancient, death-touched Sea with a pair of twins - a Desert full of screaming winds and barren Sea full of sun-bleached bones - at her back. She can be patient. Water goes where it will and Death come for all in the end. Thalassa will get her way.

-

It happens slowly, quietly, but it happens.

Most people don’t notice at first because they aren’t looking. Who pays attention to slaves after all? That is their first mistake. A slaver should always pay attention and never be comforatable - a slave is never content to be a slave. All it takes is a single moment, a single detail, a single second. But people who assume they have all the power never think like that. And it is always, always, their downfall.

-

The slaves are freed.

The masters are killed.

No one notices.

And then the first Hutt dies.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

_

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

_

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

"Babysitting is hard when you ,yourself, are a gremlin, baby"-part V

Tw⚠️: swearing, angsty vibes ( I think)

Your body moved in distress, turning the sheets all over as you left out a gasp of terror, your face clenching in pain. You have a nightmare, a usual occurrence that happens when you are stressed. Having such a big imagination, your dreams/ nightmares came vividly, with excruciating details. You could see them in colour however the images were blurry, hazy almost.

This nightmare was about Fatima, the sketch artist from up top. She was a senior here and usually the person in this block turned for guidance, relief and peace. She was from the South part of Sudan, fact that she lets it known by her traditional style fashion, her food and her drinks and the occasionally loud conversations she has with her folks back home. A peaceful artist with beautiful brown skin with yellow undertones, an oval face with a big smile plastered on it and shinning black orbs. An angel in disguise that you often seek when the world proved too much for you. Fatima never really showed her own worries and fears but you were one of the privileged few who did see her at her lowest, an experience that motivated you , scared you and hurt you. The amount of times your heart clenched those times matched with how many tears left her orbs.

You were ejected vertically on your bottom as your mouth left a silent scream, tears dropping from your eyes but you didn't have time to think it over since loud noises came from upstairs,Fatima's room. In your paranoid state you didn't question the musicality of the sounds ,chosing to ran out the door ,slapping it shut and jumping two steps each time till you reached her door.

Fatima was enjoying her second favourite types of music, Afro-Latina songs when a storms of pounds hit her door. Confused and terrified, she grabbed the nearby mop before she opened the door. It was just you.

You stood there in black shorts made from former leggings to long for your short legs, white ripped shirt stained with old paint from when you helped her renovate and messy long hair and tear filled puffy eyes.

"Y/n! My girl ,what happened?"

There she was, with a long white fit dress that ended in a curve at the start of her feet and silver grey hijab wrapped around her head. She look energised despite being 5 in the mornina Most importantly she was Most importantly, she was safe, unharmed and happy.

Your noise picked up the aroma of her handmade mix of tea that filled the textile of her dressing where now your head rest as your body convulse in a breakdown again. Shocked and confused, she wasn't stopped however from showing you the comfort your soul may need.

She caressed your long hair and rubbed your back as you two sat on the white tiles of the entrance. The door long close by her other roommate, Catherine Blank - a 26 years old from Dublin.

On Fatima's commends, the red haired freckled woman brought you a knitted blanket and a cup of water. Her hands found their way on your cheeks when you finally calmed down,rubbing them on your wet skin as you drank the water. Your eyes fell down in shame for disturbing them.

You didn't know why it happened. Just two hours ago you finished talking with Corpse and went over your notes one last time.

You seemed fine, too busy for any bad thoughts to bug you or anything such as. Yet here you are.

"Jesus ,girl. You scared us." Came the heavy accent voice of Catherine.

You looked at her standing in black leggings and a black top, skinny hands on round hips and a scowl of worry on her square face. Green eyes softening when they met yours.

"I..um..."

"You don't have to tell us right now, sweet girl. Come, let's enjoy each other with some select songs."

You all three burst in laughter at the ridiculous pompous tonality Fatima chose to express herself with.

You followed, grasping the extended hand of Catherine as Fatima rearrange the blanket around your tattoos covered body.

————————————————————

It was morning when you finally return back into your apartment. The door closed itself with a heavy thud that resonated within the insides of your shaky lungs. You calmed down significantly since that explosive outburst of fears and terrors.

You cleaned your eyes as the light of the morning painted you in a sick look: eyes blood shot, red nose, puffy face and pale skin. You looked like you died and came back alive, well maybe a fragment of your sanity died tonight who knows? Your shredded sigh echoed in the empty apartment ,the others already gone to work/university. Essentially you were alone. Again.

You cleaned your eyes as the light of the morning painted you in a sick look: eyes blood shot, red nose, puffy face and pale skin.

You looked like you died and came back alive, well maybe a fragment of your sanity died tonight who knows? Your shredded sigh echoed in the empty apartment ,the others already gone to work/university. Essentially you were alone. Again.

Your soul long desired the touch of another: to be grasp tightly and lovely by their hands, to be enveloped in their smell as they whisper sweet nothings into your ears, to have their warmth dry your tears, to bring comfort to your pain. You resigned years ago that you were never meant to experience this sessions, merely observed them. But your heart craved them and craving it did, as you watched in fake disgust the romantic displays in Ace's romances.

Right now, after crying your eyes out, your burns needed that comfort, needed that care and love but again you were denied of them, you can only thank yourself for that.

The cup was slapped in foolish fury as you tossed some hot water in it. The tea bag falling towards the end of the cup.

Three knocks were heard at the door and you curiously turned, cup left forgotten.

Opening the door, Omar was standing there with a little albino boy with clear big blue eyes and curly locks. He was wearing a red blue and white checkered shirt with beige church pants. He smelled nice ,his cologne hitting your your long narrow nose immediately after opening the door.

You raised a brow as he sheepishly smiled.

"Nice kid."

"Thanks."

Then silence.

You continued drinking your tea,staring at the man who finally realised that you didn't know the motive of his visit.

"Alma didn't tell you?"

"What?"

"She said you agreed to watch over Tj today."

Wait.

Your panicked grew was your eyes turned to the calendar to the right of you. There in bold yellow numbers the day of 5th November was left clear with the exception of being circled over with a gold marker.

"Shit ,it was today? I mean ...fuck. Sorry, Omar. It totally slip my mind."

The man laughed ,his brown eyes were warm and forgiving, no offense taken by your skip of mind.

"It's fine,Y/n. So it's alright if I leave this little guy with you for a bit?"

"Y-Yeah. But I don't have-"

As Omar entered the hallway, a grey bag you previously not seen was by the door , you picked it up before going to the living room.

He sat the kid dressed in a sailor white and navy blue stripped t-shirt and light grey sweatpants on one of the sit of your 1970s floral printed sectional sofa.

The kid was making sounds and hand gestures ,wanting to be picked up again by his father who was busy speaking with the 159cm tall woman.

"Tj here is a big of a love bug, get him to like you and you can't go anywhere anymore. Just like his mother I suppose. "

"Does he have any..um..food preference I should know about?"

"Um...Wait, Alma left you a notebook, ah well not you but me. Here ,it should have anything you will need. Again,thank you so much for doing this Y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about it." You said ,flipped the pages of the hard back notebook. Luckily Alma had a neat writing.

"Well, I need to go now. Be nice, little guy. "

Omar bent down to kiss his son's forehead, a sign of goodbye. The child stared at his father with a confuse look as he bubbled nonsense. His tiny hand reaching for the leaving figure.

Omar left soon after ,waving bye-bye to his son and almost kissing your forehead as a habit he picked up since he got together with Alma, their form of goodbye.

You stood there, staring at each other as the kid started to laugh and throw his toy at you. You caught it, he will throw it again and so forth.

You were tired however and knew the boy with too much energy will not be easily manipulated into sleeping. Opening the TV to the kid's cartoon channel , you settled on the opposite couch ,eyes falling victim to tiredness.

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

You must have been asleep 2 hours and so begore the loud crys woke you up.

Crys? Shittt! The kid.

Shooting out of your crouched position, you ignore the stirring pain of your sudden movement. Your legs' thud brought the attention of the crying mop of hair.

A wrenches smell filled your nostrils as your dread grew when you realised where its source came from. Looks like it's time to change a diaper. Oh ,man!

With a mask over your nose, hair tied behind your back and gloves you started changing the boy in the bathroom, you cleaned and washed him and brought him back on the layed blanket on the couch. Your disgust grew as you cleaned the sink and disinfect it.

You groaned as you threw your equipment in the bin, a bing didn't let your stomach cringe at the memory of the smell. It was a message from Corpse.

'Hey :)'

You smiled, quickly texting him back.

'Hey!"

'Up to play something today?'

'A new stream? You just finished one tomorrow, I don't want you to burn yourself out.'

'<3 But no, I mean to play together in private, just the two of us.'

You wanted to text him back, teasing him with the proposition of a date but the sounds of broking glass was heard from the living room.

With a scream , you quickly typed out :' Cant baby in troble.!'

The kid was fine thankfully , grinning and laughing at your panicked state. What was not fine was the white porcelain vase with blue florals Sabrina brought for her collection. She wouldn't be mad per say but she wouldn't be happy either.

The kid ,now standing to ran around the room ,using the coffee table to his advantage, your legs screaming from the workout. Luckily the broken vase was behind you away from the child.

Unfortunately, your phone started to ring. Who the fuck would call me now? Oh! It's Corpse. Wait..Corpse!

"H-hey Corpse ! What are you - come here you little block of swiss cheese."

The man laughed as the phone's speaker vibrated on your right ear where you lodged it.

Tj laughed innocently as you grabbed him and hold him to your left hip. Your hair,nerves and mood all a mess.

"A-Are you okay?" Corpse asked after recovering from the fit of laughter.

"Me? Oh ,sure. I have a gremlin here who's more trouble than his worth. Hey! Stop that!"

The happy face of Tj turned in a cringy crying one as he wailed. Apparently you wanting to stop him chewing on your white banda, tightly nicely on the top of your head ,was too much.

"Sounds like trouble. By the way, you called me?"

"I did?"

Your eyebrows clenched as you look at your calls history,you did actually. The icon of the call must have been press on accident or that it was a sign from the universe that you are in dire need of assistance.

"Y-yeah. Look, Corpse l-I gotta go. I will call you-"

And you stopped, your breath becoming more fast as your nose flared.

"Um ghost? Are you...Are you there?"

"Stay on the line,Corpse. This kid just pissed on me."

With that another wave of laughter hit the man as he thrown himself into the chair.

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

Finally, you changed the damn brat after cleaning him again and taking a shower yourself. You left a breath as you watched the chil playing with his blue rocket toy.

"Babysitting is much harder than the films makes it out to be." You grumbled, pouting as you listened to Corpse's chuckles.

They managed to calm you enough to turn the intimidating glare you had plastered all over your face into a more stern one.

Your body dressed in a clean pair of white jeans short, black tank top and blue checkered shirt over, leaned on the frame of the door. You were waiting for the milk to heat up, luckily the boy was only a month away from being an year old so you could give him cow milk without worrying.

"Babysitting is hard when you ,yourself, are a gremlin, baby." He said ,his voice making you visibly tingle.

You sighed, placing the phone near the wooden bread box and grabbing a cup. By now the milk should have warmed up.

"Um...goofball?"

"Yes,Corpse?"

"You...you are not wearing your voice changer. I..I am sorry, I should have told you from the start but I like the s-sound of it ,I didn't want it to stop."

You could hear the beads of his bracelets as he played with them, nervously waiting for your response.

"I-It's okay, Corpse. You don't need to be sorry."

You swallowed, this day really came for your neck. Your eyes stung as you fight them off, no reason to make Corpse's day shittier by being pathetic.

"You are not fine ,are you goofball?"

The kind and worried tone of this wonderful individual you became to take a liking of was enough to cause everything in you to break loose.

"N-No ,it's not. Everything been so fucking stressful and I-I don't know what to do Corpse. I try my might to fight these thoughts but everytime they resurface stronger and more disturbing. I can't keep them in control, Corpse. I just CAN'T. A-And I keep worrying about losing all: my friends, my belongings and my family. I feel like I will drive them away especially if I can't bring my share to the table. I don't even know why I tell you these to be honest, I don't want to scare you away but in the same time I ... FUCK!"

Your fists hit the table you been resting on hard , scaring the child in the living room. His cries only angered you more.

"Ghost. Ghost! Ghost! Gho-"

"WHAT?"

You instantly regretted shouting at him,stopping from your pacing too.

"Calm down,buttercup. I know how you feel and going down a warpath or an abyss of sorrows ain't the answer. Come, let me help. "

"You still want to?" Your voice came out timidly and shying away in fear, shielding your eyes in shame despite him having no possible way of seeing your face.

"Of course, you goof. Now let's see what we do with that kid."

You swiped a tear out of your right eyes ,smiling and nodding before remembering he couldn't see, just hear you. That made you more anxious now that you realised that he knows a close guarded information.

————————————————————

A smile ran down your face as you watched the child all wrapped up in his dark blue blanket struggle to jeep his bright eyes opened as his ears and energy were captured by Corpse's singing. It's was a lullaby about moon and love, being in Spanish you only understood unfortunately the words close to your mother language.

You almost lost yourself to the gentle hums , stringing of a guitar and over all wholesome cozy atmosphere when loud voices and thumbs came from the apartment near Fatima's.

An idiot called Tudor who plays the bass part in Sergiu's band lived there, he and his boyfriend Micah. Two assholes who had a bone to pick with everyone, well more like Tudor had ,Micah was a follower.

The sense of protection enveloped you as you caressed the child's hair and kiss his right temple, letting him with Corpse to fall asleep.

Your grey flippers cracked against the stone stairs harshly and quickly. Your glare being as cold as the staircase room.

You knocked furiously on the door, hurting your hands by the metal indentations carved into the door. Your ears picked up footsteps approaching the door in a lazy manner, the two making jokes about what kind of bitch could be bothering them.

The smirk on his long face vanished when his pale blue eyes meet your fiery dark ones. He puffed a lock of dirty blond hair , saluting you in a cocky but intimidated manner :

"I wonder why the Red Riding Hood is paying us a visit? What do you think ,Micah?"

He leaned back to let his dark skinned boyfriend take a look at you. His eyes showed fear but he continued the masquerade in order to please his scumbag of a lover.

"I don't know, babe. Maybe she wants a threesome."

Tudor laughed like then pig he is, Micah lipped an apology to you, his black gems cowering in shame.

Micah wasn't a bad man , he was just naive and a people's pleaser, with no sense of stern morals but even awareness to know he is the wrong. You never understood why he wasted his breath by staying at the side of this buffoon of a dude. You ignored his half-cocked insults, knowing they didn't really had a backbone to them.

"I will appreciate if you could tone it down a little. No one needs to know you two are making a sex tape."

This seemed to anger the taller white as mayonnaise man who dismissed his boyfriend with a wave of his painted hand and moved forward to you. The red door of his apartment shutting up with an echo.

You two glared at each other, not one of the other backing down. Your breath was forcefully calmed down by your anger , last thing you needed is for him to know he was affecting you by coming too close. Your hands shook in their tight grip and you were pleased you cut your nails earlier.

"Just because Sergiu lets you come with us when we play, doesn't mean you and I are friends. Got it, girly?"

His rough tone only displeased you.

"And just because you can string two cords and not sound like a dying cat doesn't mean you are a great singer either, buddy."

"Fuck you." He said that to you in a clasped breath, his teeth biting on his lower lip as his face appeared more furious.

If this motherfucker puts his hands on me ,I swear I will...

"Y/N? Y/N!"

It was Sergiu.

The man in a punk style leather jacket ran quickly up the stairs, his armored black boots clicking away.

His face was twisted into a fearing expression before turning into a more pissed off one. He knew of Tudor's dislike towards you and knew that the both of you won't hold back if this turns physical. He needed to be smart about this.

"Man, come on. Leave her alone."

He moved to come between you ,Tudor's movement of hand stopped him.

"Nah,man. This bitch thinks she come here like she owns the fucking place and tell me what to do? I am sorry, princess, but you got another thing going. "

"TUDOR ISAAC POPESCU!"

A female voice caused his blood to ran cold and you to smirk.

Behind Sergiu, a petite woman in her mid fifties glared at him. Her greying hair caught in a bun,her olive wrinkled face was in a madden frown as her blue eyes shield by fuchsia framed glasses stared at him. The madame in green suit pants and white and black blouse was his mother.

His mother, a teacher at your University, was a lioness of a woman, never detour from the right path of doing things and more importantly never afraid to tear down anyone if they being dickish. Not even her loved son.

Sergiu grabbed gently you without a word as you two left the mother and son quarrel in peace, a part of you already starting to feel bad. You hate when you argued with someone but your anger sometimes got the better of you. Today truly has been an exhausting day.

————————————————————

You are in your room,Corpse still on the phone with you. You already explained what happened and know you enjoyed just talking with him about everything and nothing at the same time,trying to not fall asleep for how calming his voice was.

"You sure you don't want me to end the call. You must be tired from all the noises. "

You stirred, cleaning the droll of your left wnd of your lips. Your head ache as you saw that night has befallen.

"Wh-What?"

"Goofball,I was talking if you wanted me to let you rest but you already beat me to it."

"T-Tj?"

"Your friends said they will take care of them. They were so surprised to find me singing to him, though."

"Ah,shit. Sorry Corpse."

"Nothing to be sorry about, pumpkin. "

"Pumpkin, seriously?" You asked ,snuggling back into the comforter.

"Yeah, why not? The fall season is still up for a month or so."

"Hmm, I prefer goofball better."

"If you say so, princess. You *yawn* you sure you don't want me to let you sleep?"

A panick arised into your soul as you quickly told him no.

"P-Please stay."

"A-Alright."

He began to continue the story one of his subscribers send him as your eyes shut. A smile on your lips at last.

————————————————————

Hey,guys!💖

Hope you enjoyed the fifth part of the serie. It was a roller coaster to write.

Anyway, stay safe!💗

Tagged💖:@moolujk @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95 @simonsbluee @cherry-piee @yoyoanaria @gaysludge @mythicalamphitrite

[helaintoloki]

Old Ghosts

pairing: Dan Torrance x reader

warnings: slight language, slight angst, some fluff

notes: certainly not the best piece I’ve ever written but I needed to put something up lolol

summary: no matter where you’re at in life, the shining always seems to bring you back to Dan

“I’ve only ever met three or four people in my life who knew they shined.”

He paused then, unsure and looking down contemplatively at the callouses on his hands as she came to mind. He could see her almost as if he was back in the Overlook again, standing down the hallway in her overalls and pigtails with her big doe eyes curiously taking him in as he played with his toy cars on the carpet. Where was she now?

“Who is she?” Abra asks, turning sheepish at Dan’s reproached gaze. “I didn’t mean to peak, I swear. It’s just.. your thoughts get really loud when you think about her. Did she have the shining too?”

“Her name was y/n, and she didn’t just shine, she gleamed. At first I thought she was just another ghost,” Dan admits, chucking faintly at the thought as the warmth of his nostalgia began to settle in the pit of his chest. “A little ghost girl there to help me chase the monsters away.”

“But she wasn’t a ghost?”

“No,” Dan concurs thoughtfully. “Not a ghost. A friend.”

“Maybe she can help us with Rose,” Abra suggests eagerly, but her hopeful spirit deflates at Dan’s immediate objection.

“I won’t do that to her. I won’t pull her into something like this, not again,” he says gravely. “I haven’t seen or heard from y/n in years, and maybe that’s for the best. If I try to call her now, and I’m not even sure if I could, I would just... Listen, you just keep your head down, you hear me? You keep your head down and you hope to god that these people never find you.”

Abra watches despondently as Dan rises from his seat beside her on the bench and settles his conductor’s cap back onto his head. Guilt slowly begins to creep through his skin at the disappointment in her face, but he ignores it as best as he can and looks to the girl apologetically.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” he says finally, walking back towards the train to resume his regular shift as train conductor.

Though Abra is disappointed, she hasn’t lost all hope yet. Dan can’t help her, but maybe there’s someone else who can.

~~~

You liked to think you lived a pretty normal life. You owned a quaint house in a quiet town in Maine where nothing interesting ever seemed to happen. It was peaceful, everyone you encountered always seemed to like you, and no one knew about your special little gift.

You hadn’t really understood the extent of your gift until you reached the age of five, and until then you had been afraid of it. Your mother had said you were cursed, a punishment for being the bastard child of a married man, and for a long time you had believed that. But then you found yourself face to face with a little boy much like yourself, and everything changed.

You’re not sure what exactly brought you to the hallways of the Overlook Hotel, or why you seemed to gravitate towards the boy with the big wheel, but what you did know was that he was special just like you were, and he was in danger.

For a while you had just been there to keep him company, playing with his cars on the carpets and watching cartoons together while his mother knitted on the couch just a few feet away from you. Wendy had assumed you were another Tony, and Danny thought you had been a friendly ghost. But you were so much more than that.

When his father had succumbed to his own insanity you had helped him escape, and when the trauma and the ghosts of the hotel continued to torment him you were there to ease him through it. A bond had been made, and throughout your childhood and teenage years it had been stronger than anything. But then Danny began to drink, his shine began to dull, and you slowly began to lose the connection you had once had. The last time you had seen him had been during one of his one night stands. He hadn’t wanted to see you then and made it adamantly clear.

“What are you still hanging around for? I don’t need you,” he had snapped. “For fuck’s sake y/n, we’re not kids anymore. Just go away.”

And you had. That had been years ago, and though you hadn’t seen him since, he still often came to mind from time to time. You shared the same nightmares, were haunted by the same ghosts, but now you had to deal with them alone. And that was fine, you were a big girl who could handle herself. Things were quiet and peaceful, until they weren’t.

You wake with a start, a sheen of sweat coating your face and the back of your neck as you glance around the room. A whisper of your name had roused you from your sleep, and you feel yourself begin to pale at the sight of the little girl at the foot of your bed.

“W-What... who... who are you?” You breathe heavily. Though she doesn’t seem dangerous, you know you can never be too careful.

“My name is Abra, and you’re y/n,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’m magic like you. I need your help.”

“My help? Why?”

“There are bad people out there who eat people like us, and they’re coming for me next. Dan and I, we need your help.”

“Dan?” You gasp softly. “You know Danny?”

“Come to Frazier and I’ll tell you the rest. Hurry.”

Abra is gone before you can ask any more questions, leaving you to dwell on the thoughts swirling around your head. It’s definitely a lot to take in at once, especially at the fact that Danny has somehow made his way back into your life. Years of being on your own, and now you not only had your old friend back a new girl with your ability.

Your mind is made up. Even if Dan wasn’t attached to the deal you still would have made the same choice. No one was really there to help you with your gift when you were a kid, so making sure Abra has someone to look out for her is vital to her survival. You won’t let her make your same mistakes or suffer through your same fears.

You’re going to Frazier.

~~~

Abra had emailed you the set location for your meet up, a place called Teeny Town in Frazier just across the street from the library, and you were to meet her at twelve o’clock exactly. You showed up at eleven fifty five, anxiously checking your phone every five seconds to see if she had emailed you again. God, this was crazy. Had you really just packed a bag, got in your car, and driven to New Hampshire without a second thought?

”y/n?” A voice calls, prompting you to turn around. Your jaw drops at the sight before you, and for a moment you can’t tell whether or not you’re dreaming.

He looks so different than the last time you saw him. His face is clean shaven with slight stubble around the edges, his blue eyes are brighter, and he seems to carry himself in a lighter manner. Danny is older and sober, and before you can stop yourself you’re meeting him halfway into a bone crushing hug.

“I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?” He asks, his hand cradling the back of your head and his eyes watering with tears.

“I came to help,” you explain meekly, holding him impossibly close to your chest. “Oh, Danny. It’s been so long.”

“I’m so sorry,” he utters softly. “You have no idea how hard it’s been without you.”

“I’m here now,” you comfort, pulling away from the embrace to hold his face in your hands. “And whatever this is, we’ll get through it together. Just like when we were kids.”

Dan smiles, melting into your touch and feeling secure for the first time in years. Words can’t describe how much he’s missed you, how often you’ve haunted his thoughts, and a part of him still can’t believe you’re here. For a moment he’s able to forget just exactly what Abra has roped you into, the danger you’re in now.

It’s going to be a bumpy road, a dangerous road as the two of you are thrusted back into the arms of the monster from your childhood. But with you here now, Dan knows he’ll be able to do whatever it takes to keep you and Abra safe. That’s a promise.

[ducktracy]

187. daffy duck & egghead (1938)

release date: january 1st, 1938

series: merrie melodies

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (daffy, turtle, duck), danny webb (egghead)

starting off the new year with a bang—the first cartoon of 1938 is one of my favorites! two tex avery creations, daffy and egghead, make their second appearances paired together.

both characters have gotten a makeover, though egghead’s is more drastic: he now has hair and talks in a dopey drawl courtesy of danny webb. daffy, on the other hand, now has blue irises and a matching ring around his neck—this design would be exclusive to this short only. but, it IS the first cartoon to pen him as daffy duck! he’d appear in a number of looney tunes shorts with porky as the year would go on.

like so many other “hunter vs prey” shorts, egghead is determined to hunt daffy. daffy, however, is prepared to do everything in his power to make egghead miserable.

ben hardaway, who would have been directing his own cartoons at the time of this cartoon’s release, is the writer, and it shows throughout. ben is notable for his more hayseed sense of humor, relying on puns so corny you’ll be flossing your teeth for a week to remove the kernels. his punny touch is noticeable right at the start, with daffy and egghead bursting out of literal nutshells in an odd little introductory sequence. irv spence does some nice animation here: daffy shakes his fists in the glory, soon to be interrupted by the fire of egghead’s gun. egghead chases after a HOOHOOing daffy, the smoke from the gun spelling out to the audience “DUCK SEASON STARTS TODAY”.

the scene is odd, but more so out of uniqueness rather than perplexity. one wonders how tex really would have prefaced the cartoon if he were paired with another writer instead.

in a tradition that would carry out into tex’s MGM days, one of our first impressions of the short is a facetious disclaimer:

a sense of tranquility is established through a soft, sweeping rendition of “morning song” from the william tell overture. various gorgeously painted backgrounds fade into each other to convey the passage of time and rise of the sun, each background absolutely stunning in its own right. in a tex avery cartoon, such peace and harmony can only mean one thing: chaos is soon to follow.

our eponymous hunter creeps onto the screen, remarking aloud on the eerie stillness of his surroundings. “i wonder if there are any more hunters out here this morning.” right on cue, a swarm of hunters pop out of the reeds, reciting a popular catchphrase from the ken murray show reused in many a ‘30s WB cartoon: “whoooooooooa, yeaaaaah!”

the sound of quacks ring out from the recesses of the reeds, turning egghead on the alert. just as he prepares to hunt his prey, a signature avery gag of epic proportions interrupts the scene... literally. 

tedd pierce’s silhouette darkens the screen as he makes his way to his movie seat--a latecomer. egghead spots him and urges him to sit down and not scare away his prey. the latecomer does so, only to rise up again and change seats. our frustrated sportsman urges the silhouette to sit down again, which he does so. the silhouette never utters a word, and that’s the best part. the matter of fact delivery of the gag, the control of it all is what makes the gag so funny. such even temperament from the silhouette juxtaposes starkly with the wild nature of avery cartoons. the normal is now the ridiculous. 

when the silhouette snoops around for a better seat once more, egghead loses all patience and fires his gun straight at the silhouette. tedd pierce’s theatrics are hilarious--he twirls around, clutching his heart, hamming up his injury to the last drop. the anticipatory drum-roll as egghead looks on brings the entire act together. finally, pierce collapses, much to the contentment of egghead. he merely rubs the dust off his hands in a job well done and continues where he left off.

cartoon characters shooting audience members isn’t an alien move in warner bros. cartoons (bugs in rhapsody rabbit, daffy in the ducksters), yet the inclusion of the silhouette and its subsequent dramatics brings a new level of inclusion with the audience. imagine what an uproar this would get in a packed house! it’s a great way to break the barrier between cartoon characters and the audience. WB did a great job of making the audience feel included. hell, a majority of daffy’s character throughout the ‘40s hinges on this! but that’s an analysis for another time.

speaking of daffy, he’s the perpetrator of those quacking sounds in the reeds. egghead parts the plants to see if his prey is still there. he is—daffy gives him a viscious bite on egghead’s bulbous nose before going back into hiding.

“that duck’s craaaa-zy!” daffy pops his head out of the reeds again, shrieking a reply of “you tellin’ me? WOO WOO WOOHOO!”

daffy’s voice is significantly more shrill than his dopey guffaws in porky’s duck hunt. in fact, it’s so shrill that this could easily be considered one of his most annoying cartoons. though his 100% screwy, totally out of his mind personality isn’t my favorite personality for him, it’s still pretty damn great! so if you like obnoxious daffy (like me), this is a short for you. if you can’t stand him being a lunatic, stay away!

with that, daffy takes an exit, whooping and shrieking all the way in a direct throwback to his ecstatic exit in porky’s duck hunt. this is a game-changer for the merrie melodies series—the screwy, lunatic antics were typically reserved for the black and white looney tunes shorts. and here we have daffy, splitting the ears of his patrons and being a royal nuisance in the more expensive, esteemed merrie melodies, typically reserved for song and dance numbers! this ain’t your mother’s merry melody.

when daffy takes refuge within a cluster of reeds positioned in the middle of the lake, egghead uses this as an opportunity to lure out his prey with a decoy. specifically, ONE LOVE-LURE DUCK DECOY.

egghead sends the obnoxiously feminine duck decoy out into the water, quacking in time to the beat of stalling’s “the lady in red” underscore. the decoy disappears into the reeds, and there’s a pause.

a flurry of aggravated, warbled quacking cues us in that daffy is pissed off. the action is all hidden behind the plants, leaving details of their altercation is up to the audience’s interpretation. what we do see is daffy’s physical anger: he pops out of the water at the bank of the lake, throwing the decoy down at egghead’s feet. a makeshift sign cleverly held up by a cattail echoes a beloved catchphrase from the radio show fibber mcgee and molly:

bubbles rippling on the surface indicate daffy’s presence. he pokes his head out to heave a teasing quack at the befuddled hunter before dipping back down again, prompting egghead to stick his rifle in the lake. cue a tried and true gag that was likely much funnier then than now: the ol’ tie-the-gun-into-a-bow trick. 

the next gag is one that tex avery would refurbish in his MGM debut, the early bird dood it!: egghead physically lifts the lake up like a blanket, where daffy appears just in time to give his nose another honk for good measure. cue crazed laughter and intricate water aerobics. daffy halts, addressing the audience directly with a flimsy reassurance: “i’m not crazy, i just don’t give a darn!”

irv spence takes the next showdown between hunter and duck. look at how much more appealing egghead is in his hands! egghead leans down to retrieve his gun he tosses aside, when daffy zooms into frame and fights him for it. daffy’s consistent smile as he and egghead battle for dominance, both trying to reach higher and higher on the gun, is hysterical—he’s absolutely getting a kick out of egghead’s frustration. though it was clear he was reveling in porky’s own anger in porky’s duck hunt, here his enjoyment is much more blatant. he loves being a pest.

daffy slides the rifle beneath his legs and out of sight, bopping egghead on the fist and causing him to slug a haymaker against his own head. signature irv spence grawlixes add a nice level of two dimensional graphic design, like something straight from a comic.

out of nowhere, a random turtle disrupts the altercation. the turtle is a parody of parkykarkus from the chase & sanborn hour, speaking in a thick accent and slightly butchered grammar. he opts to settle daffy and egghead’s fight once and for all, posing as a referee. “just a minute, chums. just a minute!” he supplies the two with pistols, both fitted for their respective sizes. to daffy, “turn around.” to egghead: “now you turn around.”

i love how daffy’s curiosity with the turtle’s interruption is noticeable. so noticeable, in fact, that the turtle grows hostile, getting up in his face and shouting “KEEP YOUR NOSE OUT OF OTHER PEOPLES BUSINESS, AIN’T IT!” it’s rare to see daffy lacking control of the situation, even this early on. 

the two put their backs together per the turtle’s command, walking ten paces backwards in time to the turtle’s countdown. just as the turtle reaches ten, daffy jumps behind egghead, who fires. a potentially gruesome conclusion is avoided as the bullet hits the turtle’s chest instead, causing his head to rocket upward, hit a branch, and shrink back into his shell. in a hardawayian touch, daffy hands egghead a cigar, walking off screen, satisfied.

random as the scene is (hardaway’s influence seems to be particularly strong throughout this whole middle section), irv spence’s timing and appealing animation makes up for it. the switch to another animator entails an inevitable downgrade in draftsmanship.

after egghead realizes he’s been duped, he retrieves his rifle and prepares to shoot daffy. though initially startled, daffy thinks on his feet, and eagerly places an apple on his head for egghead to aim at instead. stalling’s fitting accompaniment of “william tell overture” raises in key each time egghead fires (and subsequently misses), a pattern that sounds almost identical to scott bradley’s scores under the direction of tex at MGM. 

egghead shoots a tree, the lake, a barn, and even straight past daffy, who grows increasingly irritated at the hunter’s incompetence, moving closer to him with each effort. hardaway’s influence is strong with the next gag, matched with tex’s fast pace to prevent it from overstaying its welcome: daffy thrusts pencils, sunglasses, and a sign that says BLIND on it before turning to the audience and tssking. “too bad. too bad!” harsh indeed. i imagine this gag would have been prolonged had hardaway directed this cartoon or wrote it under another director.

if anything, this cartoon certainly displays the importance of the relationship between director and writer. writers have a much bigger influence on the cartoon than one might believe! there’s a reason as to why chuck jones and mike maltese are touted around as a dynamic duo. i wouldn’t call hardaway a bad writer by any means, but his influence is certainly potent. tex is a strong director, and thankfully he could cushion the blows of hardaway’s corniness as much as he could, but it’s also evident that certain decisions were made that tex wouldn’t have made in other circumstances.

decisions such as daffy singing an entire ode to his lunacy as the cartoon’s song number. this is definitely a hardawayian insert--a prototype, hayseed, screwball bugs bunny sings his own nutty anthem in hardaway’s hare-um scare-um just a year later. full song numbers have been making their way out the door in avery’s cartoons, and by either this year or next they’d be absent in total from the merrie melodies series. it’s unlike avery to write a whole song about characters explaining their nuttiness.

that is why i have qualms with the scene. at his zenith, daffy never attempts to explain or justify his screwiness. even in the mid-’40s, when he’s able to think and speak coherently and isn’t a mere caricature of his name, he showed no self awareness for his condition. the “look at me, ain’t i a crazy one?” jokes with him were out the door by 1939. half the fun with him is how unaware he is of his daffiness--he lives in it constantly, always zipping from emotional extremes, but never stops to tell the audience just how crazy and fun he is. here, his self-awareness seems ingenuine and prideful. daffy is my favorite character for his humanity and relatability (even--if not more so--when he’s a total loon). here, he lacks that dynamism. he’s merely a stock reflection of his namesake.

with that said, daffy’s rendition of “the merry go round broke down” is my favorite merrie melody song number, period. i’m certainly biased due to my undying affinity with daffy, but irv spence’s animation is genuinely fun to watch, and mel blanc does a wonderful performance. i know all of the words by heart! essentially, daffy’s justification for his daffiness is because the dizzy pace of the merry go round went to his head and made him nuts. while this sense of bragging is relatively out of character for him, it makes for a contagiously fun song, and also, this is his second film ever. they still had much to explore. 

the scene concludes with daffy shaking hands with his reflection in the water and diving back in. fade out and in to egghead, still furiously attempting to pursue his prey. cue a fun little avery gag where our hunter nonchalantly opens the reeds he’s hiding behind like a pair of blinds. daffy’s carefree quacking and swimming in the lake almost seems to mock him. in a gag that would be reused in avery’s lucky ducky over at MGM to a greater extent, daffy puts on a mask to scare away the oncoming bullets. indeed, the bullets retreat into egghead’s gun, prompting befuddled stares at both the gun and the audience.

daffy engages in another round of spastic water aerobics, HOOHOOing all the way. he only pauses to cling to a cattail, echoing an averyian daffy catchphrase that he would also shriek in daffy duck in hollywood, “ain’t i some cutie? ahah! i think i’ll do it again! HAHAHA!”

a nice, jazzy score of “bob white (whatcha gonna swing tonight?)” accompanies yet another endeavor by egghead. he’s either stupidly bold or boldly stupid to keep up such a tiring charade--or both! egghead loads a pair of gloves tied to a string into the barrel of the rifle, cleverly using a cattail as a bore brush. and, despite the absurdity of his makeshift fishing pole, it works: one gloved hand grabs daffy by the neck, the other konking him on the head and knocking him unconscious. egghead reels in his prize, dumping daffy into a net and letting out a handful of gleeful “WHOOPEE!”s.

avery’s timing is succinct--immediately after egghead snags his duck, the sound of a siren drowns out his celebration. a duck nearly identical to daffy approaches the scene in an “asylum ambulance”. “gee, t’anks a lot for catchin’ dis goof!” duck confiscates his fellow duck comrade. the decision to turn the conversation confidential, complete with the lowering of the voice and shifty-eyed glances is great. “y’know, we been after dis guy for months!”

despite everything that egghead has endured, he seems genuinely shocked at the duck’s claim that daffy is “100% nuts”. “oh YEAH?” he echoes, daring to believe it. duck nods. “yeeeeah!” with that, he gives egghead a honk right on the nose.

daffy, completely unscathed, wastes little time in joining the festivities as both ducks beat the tar out of egghead from both ends, literally kicking him in the arse and honking him on the nose. both ducks head to the lake, HOOHOOing in shrill unison as they bound off into the horizon. egghead only has one more option... to join them. thus, we iris out on our brave hunter HOOHOOing into the horizon himself.

as i said at the beginning of this review, this cartoon is one of my favorites--for this era, anyway. despite its imperfections, it’s still a rather fun and rousing cartoon. it’s exciting to see daffy becoming more recognizable, in terms of voice,  demeanor, and appearance. the same can be said for egghead as well, though i doubt anyone has the same attachment to him as they do other characters. i certainly don’t.

admittedly, porky’s duck hunt is a more solid cartoon. this cartoon feels much more like a string of gags than anything, though i suppose that could be said for many a tex avery cartoon. he wasn’t known for his moving stories. hardaway’s corny, hayseed sense of humor serves as the biggest detriment to the cartoon, but luckily tex is a strong enough director to try and work around those weaknesses as best he could. and even though i disagree with the reasoning behind the song number, the song number will always be my favorite merry melody song. 

i didn’t mention the backgrounds very often, but they’re STELLAR. the colorful, whimsical palette brings a lot of energy and vitality to the table. if you were to describe the cartoon in one word, “energetic” would certainly be it.

so, with that said, go watch it! this is a really fun cartoon that serves as an interesting look into early daffy’s character, obnoxious as he may be.

link!

[beware-of-you-98]

henry’s dragon (jj x emily)

there’s a lot of reptile talk and i’m only slightly sorry about it

It's not that they hadn't been expecting the question; after all, a pet had been on his most recent wish-list to Santa Claus. It wasn't that they didn't think Henry was irresponsible: he got fantastic grades in school, kept up with his sports and helped out enough around the house. He was even the one that took up most of the chores when it came to Sergio (he insisted). Really, there was no doubt in their minds that their son wouldn't take responsibility in taking care of another animal.

But it was too soon, and neither Emily or JJ wanted to start a habit of buying an animal on such short notice without instilling some kind of boundaries.

First and foremost, since everyone at the house had busy schedules, the new pet couldn't be something that require attention 24/7.

No mammals or birds—nothing that would be affected by significant spending some time alone.

Since the boys time was split between two houses, the animal had to be something that either JJ or Emily could easily take care of in Henry's absence.

No spiders or bugs and it had to fit in an enclosure that they capped off at 50 gallons—hey, they had to draw the line somewhere.

After months and months of researching, Henry finally decided between either a corn snake (only if it was on frozen thawed mice), a crested gecko, or a leopard gecko. Last week for his eleventh birthday, JJ and Emily had surprised him with a twenty gallon tank that would house either animal of his choice quite comfortably for a while and several necessities like a heating pad and a basking light and bulb.

To top everything off, Spencer and Penelope had surprised the boy with tickets to a reptile show that was taking place the following weekend so he could go and pick out his new pet.

(Whatever Henry decided to get, he could also get the appropriate hides, water bowls and supplements with the money his grandparents had given him.

Emily and JJ collectively agreed to pay for the animal as an additional birthday gift.)

They had both been immediately thrown out of their element when they walked into the convention center lobby and found people crowded around the hundreds upon hundreds of tables full of different animals.

"Look, momma, a dinosaur!"

Emily peers up briefly to follow the direction Michael is pointing in with a fond grin, an amused chuckle escaping her mouth as her gaze lands on the clear acrylic tank with a colorful lizard basking under a heat lamp. The blue sharpie on the tank advertises the species in quick-scrawled handwriting: "Uromastyx". Right below the name lists the price in smaller, more legible numbers: "$225".

She hums, giving Michael's ankles a gentle squeeze as she adjusts her hold to keep him from toppling off her shoulders or over her head. The lizard's face can really only be described as dinosaur like, face round and snout short and stubby with tiny black eyes that reflect the light from the bulb above. The animal's scales are mostly bright blue and green, bright yellow and orange spots stamped down the spine, visually leading to a long tail covered in stubbed spikes.

"It does look like a dinosaur, doesn't it?" she agrees with another chuckle, turning her head and resting her hand on Henry's shoulder when he comes bounding up to join them at the table, JJ not too far behind. "What do you think, Hen? You want to adopt a dinosaur?"

Henry pushes his glasses up his nose, eyes lighting up in excitement as he catches a glimpse of the lizard. "An ornate Uromastyx, cool!" he exclaims before turning back towards his mothers. "Did you know they have basking spots of up to 135°?"

A brief pause as he thinks, head tilting up to look at the ceiling. He scrunches his nose and giggles when JJ playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

"And they're mostly herbivores!" he adds as soon as he remembers.

JJ gives his shoulder a loving squeeze before glancing over at the tank. "It is a pretty lizard," she admits.

"It's too expensive," Henry shrugs, not too affected by the fact he probably would be leaving without the Uromastyx. "And I didn't research them enough. Besides, he would out grow the tank I have at home and I don't have the right things for him," he reasons.

A young woman working the booth shoots the family a polite smile before walking over. "Hey, there! Can I help you guys with anything?"

"No, thank you," Henry declines politely. "We're just looking!"

"Interested in Uros?" the woman asks Henry in attempts at conversation.

"They're neat!" he nods enthusiastically. "But not really for beginners."

The woman smiles, looking impressed. "From what I overheard, someone did their research." She glances up at Emily and JJ, politely offering her hand. "I'm Courtney," she introduces herself.

"Jennifer," JJ replies, shaking Courtney's hand with her practiced "liaison" smile, grazing her free hand in Henry's hair as she briefly introduces him, "Henry," before resting it on Emily's side. "My wife, Emily, and Michael."

"Hi," is Michael's shy greeting, lifting his hand before resting his chin on top of Emily's head as the brunette shakes Courtney's hand.

"Pleasure meeting you. First time here?" Courtney guesses with a knowing smile.

"Uh-huh!" Henry nods.

"Neither of us never been to one of these before," JJ explains. "We're not really sure where we're going."

Courtney nods in understanding, reaching under the table and pulling out a small stack of maps with the vendors and tables located on it. "This should help you guys out!"

Emily takes one of the maps, flipping i over and scanning the schedule on the back before giving the woman a grateful smile. "Thank you!"

"Not a problem at all," Courtney assures. "These can get a bit overwhelming the first time around. What are you guys looking for?"

"Geckos!" Henry supplies. "Or corn snakes."

"You'll find plenty of those around here," Courtney smiles at him before leaning in towards the family and muttering softly, "Between you and me, don't buy from that guy." She points to a vendor on the map.

"Bad rap?" JJ assumes.

"Sells sick, over priced animals," Courtney confirms just as softly. "Best vendors for geckos usually sell here..." She points to another space on the map. "And this group right here," She uses her pointer finger to gesture to a few vendors a few tables down. "Sell snakes that only eat frozen thawed, if that's something you're looking for."

JJ lets out a small sigh of relief. "Thank you so much."

Courtney shakes her head and holds up her palms with a warm smile. "Hey, not a problem at all. Just wanted to give you guys a heads up." She hands Henry one of the business cards and a sticker from the table. "You get some more experience with reptiles and ever want to get a Uromastyx, you know where to find us."

"Thank you!"

"You folks enjoy the show!" Courtney waves them away, giving them all warm smiles before heading off down the table to greet another person at the table.

"This place is awesome!" Henry exclaims, spreading out his arms to gesture around the room, eyes shining with glee.

JJ tears her gaze away from a massive Burmese python spotted like a cow, smiling down at the child and nodding in agreement. "It's something else."

"I'll say," Emily murmurs, turning the map in her hands with a small frown, bringing it closer to her face to make sure she's reading correctly. "Hey, Hen, what are "hots"?" She peers down at him, stopping briefly when they come across a table covered in plastic containers sealed shut with red electrical tape. One look at a container holding a white diamond back rattlesnake and she lets out a silent "oh" in realization. "These must be hots."

"Whoa!" Henry gasps in wonder, but stays back where he is. "Cool!"

JJ rests a hand on his shoulder, peering over him at the hundreds of venomous reptiles displayed on the table. A part of her is honestly surprised with how easily someone could come here and purchase some of the deadliest animals on earth. She personally doesn't see the appeal, but hey, to each their own.

"Am I crazy..." Emily leans in towards JJ's face and murmurs. "Or are some of these things kind of adorable?" she continues, discreetly pointing to a container labeled "gaboon viber".

The snake itself is gorgeous, short, stocky body curled over in a "C" shape. Bright orange, yellow and brown diamonds line down the serpent's back. The eyes are positioned almost directly on top of its head, one looking towards the right and the other facing the complete opposite direction. The goofy eyes, along with the chubby cheeks (most likely swollen with the venom glands) and a small horn at the tip of its nose make the snake look like a funny cartoon character.

"No, they're definitely cute," JJ easily agrees, finding another snake in a clear container with black electrical tape. The lid labels the snake inside as a "plains hognose". This snake has the same chubby cheeks as the viper and a little upturned snout, with eyes JJ can really only describe as "puppy like". "In a weird way."

"Moms, can I get a cobra?"

Glaring playfully at Henry, who points to a white monocled cobra with a shit eating grin on his face, JJ smirks, "You most certainly can not get a cobra!" 

Emily reaches over and ruffles Henry's hair when he pouts in exaggeration. "Sorry, babe, your mom's the boss." She drops her voice a few octaves, smile light and teasing as she faux whispers, "Between me and you boys, I would have totally been okay with a cobra as long as you cleaned up after it."

JJ gently whacks Emily's side with the back of her hand, grinning when the brunette grabs her hand and links their fingers together. "Don't conspire with the kids to get venomous reptiles behind my back," she chides playfully.

"Busted, boys. No cobras," Emily sighs dramatically, her own smile wide when Michael giggles from above at her. "What a shame, too. I was going to name him Mr Sparkles."

"Mr Sparkles?!" Michael repeats incredulously between giggles.

"Yep, Mr Sparkles," Emily confirms firmly, grinning as they walk down the table and inspect more of the animals. "I was going to buy him a little leather jacket studded in rhinestones and everything."

"You're so weird!" Henry laughs, shaking his head before leaning into Emily, resting against her arm as they move.

"Proudly!" She grins, heart feeling so incredibly full with Henry leaning on her, Michael above on her shoulder and with JJ at her side. It felt right, so simple and so domestic to be like this. It's as if this was where she was meant to be all along. She feels even more content when JJ leans up and presses a soft kiss to her cheek as if to silently confess her own happiness.

It's perfect.

The family steadily makes their way down the rows and row of vendors, stopping every so often when specific animals catch their eye. There's a small vendor selling small exotic mammals that they spend a while at because the woman running the booth has a sugar glider on her shoulder. Michael and JJ are completely transfixed on the small animal, even more so when it decides to hop on top of JJ's head. She squeaks in surprise, while Emily and the boys laugh, the brunette quickly whipping out her phone to record a video to send to the team group chat later.

They stop at another vendor selling sulcata tortoises a few minutes later, the vendors allowing the boys to feed the giants a few leaves of romaine lettuce (another video recorded, but this time for Penelope because Emily and JJ know she would want to see as much of this as possible next girl's night).

It's nice to see how interactive some of the vendors are with the boys. Some allow them to pet certain display animals and talk to them about each one. Michael yelps in surprise when he pets a large tegu because the lizard flicks its tongue out lazily at the boy. Henry is a bit wary of a scaleless bearded dragon and corn snake, wrinkling his nose when he tentatively touches the animal with the vendor's approval.

("It looks like a ball sack," Emily whispers to JJ, eyeing the animal with as much distain as Henry. "It probably feels like one, too." Her own nose wrinkles at the thought, but a smile forms on her face when her wife laughs at her. "What? It's true! Probably!"

“Touch it and find out,” JJ challenges, laughing again when Emily shudders at the thought.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll pass.”)

They take plenty of pictures and videos of the boys, mostly standing back and letting the boys enjoy themselves. Though, the boys do convince their moms to participate in petting or holding certain animals. It doesn't take JJ much convincing to hold a tiny banana ball python (she thinks it's really pretty) and a pied ball python whose body consists of huge white spots (she refuses to believe it's real because what?!?) that just fit in her palm. Emily gets suckered into holding a massive carpet python with Henry, tensing only slightly when the snake flicks its tongue in her face.

Henry keeps an eye out for his perfect pet, regarding some of the corn snakes and crested geckos at some vendors with some interest, but moves on otherwise. It's not until they get to a table with a vendor selling leopard geckos that he really pays attention.

Henry looks at the animals in the tupperware containers, each shallow cylindrical container slotted perfectly in a custom black foam board. It made a lot of the animals' colors pop, especially the bright yellow, orange and white geckos in the middle of the board. The women note how Henry's gaze keeps going back to the row with several of these white and yellow geckos, obviously having peeked his interest the most. The last gecko in the row is a stunning bright orange, the tail thick and animal alert. The green marker on top of the lid lists the gecko as a "sub-adult tangerine 25% het temper $75" with the symbol off to the side listing it as a male.

Emily kneels down beside him, peeking between Henry and the gecko. “What are you thinking?”

“He’s pretty,” Henry says in awe. “His tail is thick and he looks really healthy.”

“You guys need any help?” the young man running the booth asks, coming up towards them from behind the table.

“Can I ask a few things about him?” Henry asks, carefully pointing out the orange gecko.

The young man replies with a warm smile, nodding. “Sure, go ahead.”

Emily holds her palms up in a peaceful gesture, letting Henry take the reigns. She stands up behind him, reaching out and grasping JJ’s hand when she comes up to her side with Michael on her opposite hip. “What’s happening? Did he find one?”

Emily smiles fondly at Henry, who’s asking simple, yet crucial, questions about the gecko with the vendor. “Yeah, I think so,” she replies quietly to her wife. “He really likes the orange one.”

The conversation seems to flow naturally between Henry and the vendor, the man periodically peering up at the women to engage them in the conversation about the animal, too. He asks Henry a few questions, nodding in approval when he replies with the information he learned while researching leopard geckos. “That guy right there is one of the friendliest geckos we’ve produced,” the guy adds, nodding to the orange gecko. “Really handleable and calm.”

With that confirmation, Henry turns his hopeful gaze up to his moms, silent question in his eyes.

“You guys can buy him and we’ll hold him back here if you need to pick up some more things or want to look around more so you’re not carrying him around all day,” the vendor assures.

JJ rests her hand on Henry’s shoulder. “This guy, huh?” she asks softly to confirm his choice, small smile on her face.

“I really like him,” Henry confirms with a nod.

“That settles it then,” Emily grins, slipping her wallet from her back pocket and handing over the cash for the animal, sealing the deal.

Henry beams as the man takes the cash, carefully sliding the gecko from the foam board and setting the container behind the table. Henry throws his arms excitedly around both women. “Thanks, moms! You guys are the best!”

Emily smooths her hand through his hair lovingly, smiling warmly as JJ bends and plants a kiss on his forehead.

“You guys can come back here and get him when you’re ready,” the vendor confirms for them, picking up a business card and handing it off to Henry. “If you guys have any more questions or if anything pops up, give us a call and we’ll help out, okay?”

“Thank you!” Henry says genuinely, clutching the card tightly with a grin before turning and tugging on his moms towards the back of the hall.

“Thank you so much,” JJ repeats towards the vendor, smiling warmly at him before allowing Henry to tug her towards the vendors selling supplies.

“See you soon!” the man calls out, waving to them before tending to another customer.

They look around at some more vendors, Henry stopping at a few to buy what he still needs for his new gecko along the way. Michael’s back down on the ground, following his older brother with the same enthusiasm. The two chatter amongst themselves excitedly. JJ and Emily fall in step behind them, watching on with fond smiles that never seem to leave their face even as they leave the convention hall with a new addition to the family in tow.

Emily looks back in the rear view mirror at the boys, smiling to herself as they lean their heads together to look at the gecko in the container secured on Henry’s lap. She turns when JJ leans over and presses a kiss to her shoulder, linking their free hands together in the space between the front seats, a comfortable silence falling between them. The drive home is filled with the excited chatter of their boys from the backseat, the distinct scent of the fast food they had quickly picked up for an easy dinner swarming the car.

It’s oddly comfortable in a way, Emily thinks to herself as the sun starts to set over the horizon. She’s never felt more at peace than she is right now, listening to the boys chatter in the background and feeling the warmth her wife provides as she leans her head on her shoulder.

It’s dark out by the time they get home, just ten minutes until the boys’ bedtime.

Henry and Michael immediately bound up to Henry’s room, the older boy setting the container down gently. He puts the small coleny of dubia roaches into a critter keeper with the food and gel water cubes before setting them off the side. Then, he begins to put the finishing touches to the tank, adding the hides and a small, shallow dish that he fills with calcium powder. Emily trails behind, helping out any way she could and taking the bottle of water JJ hands off to her from behind to cap off the water bowl.

The two women take a seat on Henry’s bed, watching the boys as Henry carefully lifts the container and sets it in the tank. He opens the lid and removes it from the tank, snapping the lid back in place. “We gotta let him come out on his own and get used to it before we pick him up,” he softly tells his younger brother, taking a step back from the tank and joining his moms on the bed. He climbs up between them, smushing himself at their sides and leaning against them. Emily hoists Michael up on her lap, planting a kiss on his head as they all watch the gecko slowly climb out of the container and begin to explore his new environment.

JJ plants a kiss on Henry’s head, reaching over and laying a hand comfortingly on Michael’s back as he leans tiredly against Emily. “What do you think?”

“I love him already,” Henry admits quietly, eyes following his new pet as he explores his tank.

“What are you gonna name him?” Emily wonders, rubbing Michael’s back soothingly to convince him to go to sleep.

“Mr Sparkles,” the toddler tiredly mumbles, cracking a smile at his own joke.

Henry giggles, sounding just as tired as his brother. He lets out a yawn, letting his head lean against JJ’s side. He brings up his hand, moving his glasses out of the way to rub his eye with the back of his hand. “Smaug,” he decides sleepily. “His name is Smaug.”

JJ reaches down, carefully removing his glasses and setting them on his desk before running her fingers soothingly through his hair. “I think that’s a perfect name,” she murmurs.

Her eyes flicker back to the tank, watching the gecko until she feels Henry’s full weight leaning into her. She turns to Emily, who silently confirms with a nod that both boys are asleep. She shifts Michael in her arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek and cradling the bak of his head as she stands. JJ slowly moves herself from the bed, managing to grab Henry in her arms to move him up towards his pillows. She flicks off his bedside lamp, blinking in surprise when the basking light to the gecko’s tank also goes dark before remembering that it’s on a timer. She leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Henry’s forehead and murmuring an “I love you” on his skin before moving for Emily to do the same.

They shuffle out to Michael’s room, JJ carefully and quietly shutting Henry’s door behind her. The routine is the same with Michael, laying him down in his bed, giving him a kiss goodnight and murmuring quiet “I love you”s on his skin before sneaking out and closing the door behind them.

JJ leans up, pressing a tired, soft kiss on Emily’s lips in the middle of the hallway, hoping to convey even the smallest amount of affection she holds for her wife with the simple gesture. Emily gently cups her face between her palms, melting into the gesture as she always does. “I love you,” she hums quietly on the blonde’s lips, smiling wide when she feels JJ smile against her.

“I love you. So much.”

[army-of-mai-lovers]

Why Amon Should Have Been An Android

(spoilers for LoK and Young Justice season 1) 

If you followed my LoK liveblog at all you may have noticed that I theorized at one point or another that all four major villains of LoK (Amon, Unalaq, Zaheer, and Kuvira) were secretly robots/androids (the term I used was robot, but the more accurate term would have been android.) Now, with Unalaq it was definitely just because I found him boring, with Zaheer it was to make fun of the fact that he was an Airbending prodigy with zero training, and with Kuvira it was because it was a thing at that point for me to predict that an LoK villain was a robot (and I was kind of right that time!!) 

But with Amon? I was completely serious. We never see his face, his cause is stupid (and the perfect way for his programmers to start some trouble in Republic City), and he was able to resist bloodbending, which, if you’ll recall, requires that the victim have blood for it to work. You know who doesn’t have blood? That’s right, androids/robots. 

But there’s another reason that I sincerely thought Amon was going to be a robot (android), and it’s the reason I’m writing this. There was something naggingly familiar about LoK to me, and no, it wasn’t that it was a sequel series to ATLA. To me, LoK doesn’t really feel a lot like ATLA (barring, of course, the very poorly shoehorned in fanservice cameos of Iroh, three times, like he’s a recurring character or something.) I struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was, but in my own observations and the observations of other people that I was talking to while liveblogging, a couple key differences became clear: 

[ID: an image of Korra from the back looking out towards Republic City, which is shown to have large white skyscrapers, a bay, and numerous smaller buildings. Much of it is obscured by fog and clouds. The city is built in the middle of a sprawling bay. /End ID]

1. the setting of LoK is incredibly Americanized and Eurocentric. While ATLA displays a lot of cultural insensitivity towards the cultures it borrows from in choosing how to depict them, LoK...doesn’t really depict other cultures. Republic City to me felt very similar to how 1920s New York is typically depicted in media, and no setting in the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribe was explored enough to really explore the unique cultures of those settings. While you can tell in ATLA that bryke was somewhat interested in (a vague, exoticized, unrealistic vision of) East Asian culture, LoK is very clearly inspired by America and Europe, with very little else influencing how the setting was depicted. 

2. there are no “unimportant” people in LoK. Everybody is related to somebody we know from ATLA (or somebody from ATLA), a powerful business mogul, military, somebody high up in the government, a celebrity, and/or the Avatar. The only character I can really think of that’s an exception to this is Kai, who really does not have much of a role. (I guess you could argue that Mako is an exception but y’know...he was a famous pro-bender for a while there) You don’t just get to meet a regular person living in a village anymore. Every character in LoK has political, social, or cultural power. 

These points, put together with the technological prowess of the world of LoK (which is different season to season and sometimes even episode to episode depending on how the writers are feeling that day), made the show feel very distant from ATLA, but very, very close to another show that I have watched and loved. And that show is Young Justice. 

[ID: an image, from left to right, of Batgirl, Blue Beetle, Bumblebee, Beast Boy, Miss Martian, Nightwing, Superboy, Wondergirl, Robin, and Red Arrow in the foreground, posing together. Above them and in the background are the adult heroes, obscured in shadow. From left to right, Red Tornado, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, Batman, Superman, the Flash, Green Arrow, and Wonder Woman. They are all against a gradient blue background. /End ID]

For those not in the know, Young Justice is a DC animated cartoon focusing on the teen sidekicks, proteges, and relatives of superheroes like Batman, Superman the Flash, Green Arrow, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, and others banding together to form their own superhero team. YJ is set in America, vaguely, with characters residing in cities with names like Gotham City, Star City, and Central City (a naming convention that Republic City fits right into). And as is apparent from the premise, most of the characters you’ll meet in YJ are superheroes, related to superheroes, or otherwise important business moguls, celebrities, or political figures. And while the world of YJ is of course significantly more technologically advanced than that of LoK, there’s more overlap than you’d think. Besides spaceships, teleportation, smartphones, and genetic engineering, there’s really not a lot of tech that YJ seasons 1 and 2 have that LoK doesn’t. 

So you may be thinking, “ok Arthur, we get it, you’re a fucking nerd, what does this have to do with robots?” I’m glad you asked! One of the storylines of YJ focuses on the war between rival tech moguls Tio Morro and Professor Ivo, in which they build increasingly sophisticated androids. Ivo’s are pretty much just designed to kill supers, but Morro’s are expressly designed to mirror the human psyche, and desire to be a part of human society. Amon very clearly also desires a community, and does much of what he does to integrate himself into a community of nonbenders where he really doesn’t belong. Further, Morro’s androids are immune to threats that humans are not immune to because they are not made up of organic matter. For example, in season 1, episode 3, Miss Martian attempts to read Red Tornado’s mind, to no avail, because she can only read the minds of organic beings. In a similar vein, Amon was able to resist bloodbending, and while unfortunately that was not because he was an android, it would have made sense given the conventions of the cartoon android genre. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my previous YJ knowledge very much influenced the way I read that scene. The way Amon’s body was animated very much mirrored the animation of Morro’s androids trying to resist their evil creator’s programming. 

So, I’ve taken you through the what, the how, but I promised that I’d say why Amon being an android would have been better, and I plan to deliver. First, it needs be remarked that while Amon being an android wouldn’t have made much sense, it would have only made slightly less sense than the canon explanation of Amon being Tarrlok’s secret brother. In fact, I’d argue that, if handled correctly, Amon being an android could make more sense and be more impactful. Here’s how I envision it: android! Amon would be pretty similar to Red Tornado, in that he would know that he was an android and be programmed to help people. He was of course, built by Hiroshi Sato (that man designed and likely built all the Equalists’ weapons he has the range), who sees himself as a sort of father to Amon. Hiroshi tells Amon about the systemic disenfranchisement of nonbenders and how a Firebender killed his wife, and Amon, being programmed to want to help people and to desire participation in human society, decides he wants to lead a revolution against benders. However, an android can’t very well openly lead a revolution (you could add a bit in the backstory episodes about how humans don’t trust androids or something), so Hiroshi and Amon come up with the story that Firebenders burned his face and hands, which is what prompted him to lead the revolution. Thus, his whole body, including his face, is covered, and his followers assume that it’s because the burns are so bad, and they follow him. In the latter half of the season, the krew would uncover Hiroshi’s involvement with the Equalists, but Asami would be the one to realize that Amon is an android that Hiroshi built. Amon being Hiroshi’s “son” of sorts would be another element of Asami coming to terms with the evils of her family, as Amon in this case would be a machine programmed to be easily manipulated to follow Hiroshi’s cause and would consider himself her brother, and she would have to reckon what to do with both of them. The nonbenders’ cause would still be legitimate after Amon was exposed as an android (unlike it is when the literal figurehead of their movement is also antithetical to their movement) and the heroes would have to reckon with the realities of bender supremacy and the hurt it caused. Amon could even get a redemption arc and work with world leaders to make a better society for nonbenders and androids like himself (I’m sure there’s some parallel you can draw between nonbender oppression and android oppression, though I can’t think of one atm) As an added bonus, Amon wouldn’t be able to bend, so he couldn’t bloodbend Korra, which would be one less time that an LoK villain took away Korra’s bodily autonomy. Amon could even be a recurring character in the later books, because really, wouldn’t LoK have been more fun with a newly-redeemed android sidekick still learning about what the world is outside of his creator’s narrow worldview? Plus, that would give Asami more to do in books 2 and 3 than meet Varrick and participate in love triangle drama (Amon is of course replacing Varrick’s presence on the show), and getting to know and bond with Amon could be the catalyst for her visiting her father in prison in book 4. 

Remember, I didn’t claim that this would be good, I claimed that it would be better, and since the bar was on the ground with that secret brothers twist that wasn’t too hard to accomplish. tl;dr bryke are cowards, take the plunge and make him an android. 

[mk-wizard]

Jetfire/Skyfire: Autobot or Decepticon Truly

Hello, dearest Transformers fans. Today, I am going to do an analysis of a fan favourite Jetfire aka Skyfire. For the sake of not confusing anyone, I will go by the name Jetfire throughout this article.

When it comes to Jetfire, just looking at him, you can tell two things; he is an aerial type of the highest rank and he has a very angelic looking appearance with white being his dominant colour, the way his wings are on his back and even his face is soft and gentle. Despite being a giant, he is a big friendly looking giant though even with all of that, he still looks like he has many Decepticon qualities at least biologically. Just the fact that he can fly even in robot mode is telling because in most series, only Decepticons can do that and he is a jet plane which no Autobot was until he was introduced. And even after, he has years of flying experience while almost every other Autobot of his generation and before at least didn’t fly and merely had flying alt modes thrusted upon them which was obvious from how poorly to how reckless they would fly. Jetfire flies like a pro with grace and poise which suggests that he was a part of the air force back on Cybertron though back then, it was a Decepticon dominated area. In fact, the Seeker force only consisted of Decepticons. This opens up the possibility that even before the war, either Jetfire was born a Decepticon with rare physical qualities or had cosmetics applied (more on that later) or converted out of circumstance because his career demanded him to.

According to the biography of Jetfire, his first solid and formal introduction was in the G1 cartoon of which he was in hibernation for millions of years on Earth due to being caught in a storm back then when attempting to explore. It is quickly established that he has history with the air force, he is close and old friends with Starscream and he is mainly a scientist rather than a warrior despite being a high ranking warrior by training. After being found and awoken by Starscream, Jetfire is quick to side with him and believe him about the current events due to their old friendship driving him to officially call himself a Decepticon. However, when he learns that he has been had and Starscream is not longer the Seeker he once new, he defacts quickly to the Autobots and seemingly sacrifices himself to save them by getting frozen and lost once again. Luckily, fate rewards his noble act by allowing him to be once again be found by the Autobots and be free for good this time. It should be noted though that in the midst of all of this, it is never explicitly stated which faction Jetfire was originally part of before the war.

Since his introduction, Jetfire solidified his place in the Transformers lore and became a fan favourite for all times. His friendship with Starscream became equally popular and famously, many fans have debated amongst themselves on whether their friendship was a lot deeper in a romantic way or merely a brother in arms way.

In the Dreamwave comics, Jetfire was once again old friends with Starscream, but this time, he is an Autobot from the beginning and it is Starscream who originated as one faction (Autobot), but defacted and even underwent full conversion surgically to Decepticon which ended their friendship. After that, he would undergo many hardships most of which were psychological.

In the Michael Bay movies, Jetfire is an elderly veteran Decepticon who suffers from a plethora of inhibitions due to his age like memory loss and requiring a cane. However, his moral alignment is good and he winds up siding as well as giving his life to the Autobots to stop the Decepticons even though in faction, he still was one himself marking this take of Jetfire as the first good Decepticon who never had to change his faction though so far, it has been the only time and many fans are not aware of this milestone.

In Transformers Animated, Jetfire is reimagined as a teenage youngling with a twin brother named Jetstorm and they both underwent surgery and received Decepticon upgrades in order to be able to have jets as alt modes. As a side effect, he is also a pyromancer and he seeks to have a Russian sounding accent. He and his brother are also combiners who when they combine with each other, they become a powerhouse of an Autobot known as Safeguard. However, it is still both biologically and socially an Autobot, he has no ties to Starscream in this take and has no fascination or ties to Decepticons besides his heavy duty upgrades.

In the more recent War for Cybertron series, Jetfire is set in a world similar to G1 and is once again almost identical to his old G1 self in personality, appearance and backstory. However, it seems has aligned himself with the Decepticons long term though it is never clear is he is truly a Decepticon biologically or not as his frame has Decepticon features, but also Autobots ones and he has blue optics. His friendship with Starscream is also rocky and ends long before he defacts. Jetfire’s loyalty to the Decepticons is also shaky despite being a high ranking aerial bot who has dominion over the Seekers and it does take much for him to have enough and join the Autobots.

In Rescue Bots Academy, he makes an appearance as a guest and is presented as being an Autobot all around and he looks similar to his G1 counterpart.

In Cyberverse, Jetfire has a bitter rivalry with Sky-Byte and once again, is similar to his G1 counterpart except his personality his much more reckless, hotheaded, aggressive and less than honourable at times. Still, he sides with the Autobot faction most of the time.

In the midst of all of this, the great mystery of Jetfire’s biological faction remains a mystery to fans. My own theory is that Jetfire is in fact a hybrid of which one parent was an Autobot and the other a Decepticon. Though because among Transformers, you can only be one or the other, his faction came out Autobot, but he was raised and was for the majority of his life a Decepticon socially hence his naturally blue optics. I am also guessing that judging by his moral alignment and values, the Decepticons he surrounded himself were good and at one time, Starscream was good too, but became corrupted. Or maybe he was the bad apple friend Jetfire just didn’t want to believe was bad apple. Considering that Jetfire has only been presented as being born a Decepticon in the Michael Bay movies and in all other versions, merely has some Decepticon descent in him, but is always born an Autobot, the standard version of him can be confirmed as being born an Autobot and no matter what he does, he will always fall back on the Autobots. However, with the way things are evolving in the Transformers lore and after hearing through a very long grape vine that Hasbro has opened up its mind to the possibility of making good Decepticons more normalized, Jetfire may evolve to be full Decepticon though still good. And I think this time, even if he should side with the Autobots, he won’t convert though this is just a theory in my own making.

I do find it a shame that Michael Bay Jetfire being the first good Decepticon flew so far under the radar as even I didn’t know it or even believed it until I saw it. Mind you, it was a milestone that was watered down and not very savoured so fans didn’t have a chance to memorize it. And evidently, Hasbro didn’t find such a moment worth repeating even though it could have made for a good story path including in the movies. Like I said though, Hasbro has changed its mind now and is now open to the idea of more good Decepticons.

What do you all think of Jetfire and good Decepticons? Should they be normalised? Should Jetfire just be made full Decepticon? Or do you think his constant switching of sides should just be a part of his character?

If you have a Transformers theory or character analysis you want explored, please let me know in my ask box. And please, support me through Patreon or Ko-fi if you want me to make Transformers merch and videos. Or if you want a commission of your favourite bot, let me know in my shop. All links are on my profile page.

Thanks for reading and please, stay safe.