#for anyone who wants to know why she has two tails it was meant to show her divide between being the child of Wilbur but only really taken c

[oliveish]

A little Tallulah! I love human designs for the eggs but I can only ever imagine them as eggs in my own head. But with Tallulah she uses a flute so unless I’m thinking with just silly minecraft magic she has to have a mouth somehow- so she has a beak! From being taken care of by Phil she becomes pretty birds as well giving her two feathery tails

[ashwhowrites]

So I had this idea, that Dustin had two older sisters who are twins. Steve didn’t notice anything while at high school he doesn’t know. So one day he comes into work and asks Robin, “did you know about the Henderson twins? And why is one dating Eddie The Freak Munson?” Dustin starts trying to get Steve to date his other sister. Steve agrees reluctantly but doesn’t expect the sister to be hot and dislike him, bc of high school. He has work to do.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Date my sister

Steve was popular in high school, which meant everyone knew him but he knew no one outside his friend group. He started to notice people once he graduated and realized being popular hurt you more in the long run. Which is why his friends are Robin and freshmen.

Steve walked into work, a sigh on his lips as he clocked in. Robin had been bouncing on her feet all morning waiting for him to arrive. She had new information and she loved talking to Steve. He was a talker like her, so he didn't get annoyed with her last words.

"Did you know Dustin has twin sisters? Around our age, and one of them is dating Eddie Munson!" Robin lived for gossip and Steve was a sucker for it.

"Holy shit, no way," Steve scoffed, "I've known that kid for years and never heard about them."

"Yeah! They graduated with you, you never noticed them?" Robin asked.

"Well no, but I didn't look outside my friend group. But still! How could Dustin never say anything? And why have I been using my gas when he had two sisters to drive his ass around." Steve knew he had to talk to Dustin the next time he saw him.

~~~

Dustin was on Steve's tail before he could confront Dustin.

"Please! Ever since Eddie has been around, Y/N has gotten more lonely. Which means she's getting a temper and being moody. I think you would like her, just ask her out." Dustin pleaded. He needed his house to be less angsty and more fun.

"Dustin, I don't know. No offense, but a girl version of you doesn't sound like my type."

"I've seen girls you've asked out. You are desperate enough to ask anyone." Dustin argued back, a bored look on his face.

"Shut up," Steve groaned

~

Steve knocked on Henderson's door, then moved his hands to his back pockets. He waited for the door to open, thinking of how to ask Y/N out when he'd never seen her before. He promised Dustin to give it a shot, but one shot.

He looked as the door opened, and his jaw dropped.

"Dustin isn't here," she said, already closing the door. But Steve shoved his foot in, hissing as she kept closing it.

"I'm here for Y/N," he said, a sigh of relief when she opened the door again. A suspicious look in her eyes.

"Why?" she asked

Steve wasn't sure which twin he was talking to, but he prayed it was Y/N. Because she was beautiful, and Steve could already feel that he needed her. She wore casual clothes to relax at home, her legs on display. Steve couldn't help but check her out, his eyes leading him up her tank top and back to her face.

"Y/N, WHO'S AT THE DOOR?"

Steve smiled as his prayers were answered.

"STEVE" she yelled back. A good enough answer for her mom as she went silent.

"I want to ask you out on a date," Steve admitted. He stood terrified under her heated eyes.

"Oh really?" She asked, her arms crossed with a scoff. "Why's that? You obviously had no idea it was me when I opened the door. You had no clue who I was in high school, so why are you randomly interested?"

Steve had no idea if lying or telling the truth was best, but he went with the truth.

"Dustin wanted me to ask you out and at f-"

"Yeah, I don't need the charity date." She cut him off as she slammed the door shut.

Well, he asked and that's all he promised Dustin.

~~~

"YOU IDIOT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOOD AT TALKING TO GIRLS" Dustin yelled as he raced into the video store.

Robin immediately laughed with a scoff, "Who ever said that?"

"One of you at a time please!" Steve begged, moving his eyes to the younger and pissed-off boy.

"She asked why I was suddenly asking her out and I wasn't going to lie. She'd see right through it. I figured she'd be less pissed off. It was like the second she saw me, she hated me." Steve explained.

"Well, she's pissed! I had to listen to twenty minutes of her bitching me out on the way to school and when she picked me up. Turns out she hates you, dude! Being an asshole in high school really impacted some people." Dustin explained

"Yeah, I learned that. But I asked her out and she said no. So my job is done." Steve said, holding his hands in surrender.

"Then you need to make her like you!" Dustin argued

"Why?" Steve asked, his hands on the counter as he leaned over to stare at him.

"She'll never admit it, but she's lonely. She needs someone, and well I trust you to not hurt her" Dustin shrugged

"But she hates me, why would she change her mind?" Steve asked

"Show her the new you. The changed Steve. Sweep her off of her feet. Do whatever dumb stuff you do to make girls like you." Dustin explained.

"I'll try," Steve sighed. Because honestly, he hadn't stopped thinking about her.

~~~

The next time he saw her, she was bringing Dustin to the video store. He didn't notice he was fixing his hair until Robin poked fun at him. He shrugged her off and walked to open the door. Dustin gave him a sly thumbs up.

"Welcome in," Steve greeted

"Since when do you open doors for customers?" Y/N asked, but walking through the opened door.

"I don't, just you," he said, smirking as he walked behind her cutting Dustin off.

"Oh right, now trying to win me over?" Y/N asked, smiling over her shoulder.

"Let me know if it ever starts working," he said with a wink. She hated herself for watching him walk away.

~

Y/N was relaxing in her front yard. A book opened as she felt the warm breeze through her hair.

"Hello, gorgeous," Steve said as he walked up to her. She could feel the sun being blocked by his body, making her look up.

Steve had his hands in his pockets, smiling down at her with those pink lips. She cursed at herself for wanting to smile back.

"How can I help you?" she asked, shielding her eyes with her hand.

"Dustin wants to go to the arcade, you wanna come?" He asked, "promise you won't be the third wheel." He scrunched down, his knees bent as now he was closer to her eye level.

She inhaled his cologne and hated how she loved the smell of it. It was easier to hate him when he wasn't right next to her.

"I'll pass," she said with as much sass as she could. Trying to keep up her unbothered attitude. She went back to her book, ignoring the burn she felt from his eyes.

"Maybe next time," he said, standing up as Dustin walked out.

~

"Dustin please go with me?" Y/N begged. Her favorite band was in town and she really wanted to go. Her sister had a date with Eddie and she refused to ditch. None of her friends liked the band, and she didn't want to go alone.

"I already have plans with Mike, but you know who is free tonight?" Dustin hinted as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Absolutely not," Y/N said, shaking her head. She knew what he was going to say, and she could not be alone with Steve. It was getting harder to keep up her act when being with him broke it all down. She can't imagine being alone with him, she's pretty sure she would fall for him. And she couldn't. She needed to be strong.

"Here's his number. Just call him," Dustin said. He went out the door and left Steve's number behind.

She stared at the digits until they began to move.

"Fuck me," she sighed to herself. She punched in the numbers and listened as it rang.

"Steve," she froze as she heard his voice on the line. She took a deep breath and reminded herself it was just a boy.

"Hey Steve, it's Y/N," she said. She could hear him starting to move, and a lot of commotion.

Steve hissed out as he stubbed his toe against his bed, trying to ignore the pain as he rushed to the other side of his room. He was already stripping out of his PJs.

"Oh hey!" he said through heavy breaths, "what's up?" His voice cracked and he smacked himself in the face.

"Look you weren't my first choice so don't think this means anything. But, would you like to go to a concert with me?" She asked, closing her eyes. A part of her already regretted asking.

"Um yeah, when is it? I can take off work." He asked, he could feel his heart racing so fast.

"In like two hours," she said

Steve looked at his watch. "Shit, um yes! I need to rearrange some things but I'll be at your place in an hour."

And with that, he hung up.

After an hour, Y/N was finishing getting ready. She finished her lipstick as Steve knocked on the door. She smiled at her reflection and began walking towards the front door. She smoothed out her shirt and jeans before she opened it.

Once it was open, Steve came into view. He stood there in a blue short sleeve and dark jeans. And a beautiful bouquet of roses.

"Wow," Steve said, rubbing his chin as he took her in. "You're always gorgeous, but wow."

"Thank you," she said as she felt her face burn. "You look very nice too."

"Thank you, these are for you." He said as he handed over the flowers. She reached forward to grab them, shivering as his touch sent electricity through her.

"Thank you, Steve. But you know this isn't a date." She clarified.

"I know, but still felt like I shouldn't show up empty-handed."

~

They arrived at the small bar, Steve was a gentleman as he opened her car door and the bar door. She hated how sweet he was. He grabbed her a drink and they moved through the crowd.

"Ready?" she asked, a playful smile on her face as she stood in the middle of the pit.

"For what?" he yelled into her ear, shocked when her hand slipped into his. He felt his face burn as he looked down to see their hands interlocked.

"TO GET TO THE FRONT," she yelled. Steve went to say something but then she began pushing through the crowd. He gripped her hand tighter as she made her way to the front, he kept apologizing to everyone.

He felt like it was wrong but once they made it to the very front of the stage, he was amazed by the stage.

"Oh wow, I've never been front row before," he said. He was hoping she wouldn't remember that they were holding hands.

"It's the best way to experience a concert. I've seen them every time they come to town and refuse to not be front row." Steve loved the way her eyes lit up as she talked about it. And how her body softly moved to the music that played throughout the bar's speakers.

"I haven't experienced many concerts. Always too loud for me," Steve laughed, taking a sip of his cold drink.

"Oh, if you don't like them, you didn't have to say yes," Y/N said, feeling a tad guilty for dragging him into something he didn't enjoy.

"Are you kidding? No way in the world I would say no to you asking me out," he said, a charming smile on his face.

I asked you to join me! Not ask you out," she said, but her smile was playful. It seemed like she was warming up to him.

He was in awe of her smile, but then the lights went dark and everyone screamed. They stared at each other as the stage lit up, not looking away until the band began to play. She turned to look at the stage, and he kept his eyes on hers.

She let go of his hand to clap. Jumping as the band performed. Steve had never seen her so loose and fun, not that he had much time to be with her. He was happy to be here in the moment, and so happy Robin took his shift.

The rest of the show went amazing. Steve danced to every song with her, holding his drink, and keeping eyes on everyone around her. It seemed her drink broke down some walls as she moved until her body was pressed against Steve's. He tried to keep his calm as her ass pressed against his jeans. He placed his free hand on her hip, the other one holding his unfinished drink. Their bodies moved together to the live music, he felt like his head was in the clouds as he inhaled her perfume and shampoo.

He could feel himself getting slightly turned on, chugging the rest of his drink and tossing it to the floor. The drink made his body hot, and her body felt hot when he placed both hands on her hips. He started dancing against her, she turned around and hooked her arms around his neck.

"ENJOYING THE BAND?" She yelled into his ear, her lips ghosting over his ear.

"I'M ENJOYING SOMETHING ELSE," he yelled into her ear, pulling away. His face was inches away from hers, he was getting lost in her eyes and didn't notice he was leaning in.

Her heart sped up as she looked into his deep brown eyes, she looked down at his lips as he leaned in. She softly played with the end of his hair near his neck as she closed the space between them.

Steve was slightly stunned as she kissed him, but kissed her back. His hands moved up to the bottom of her back as he deepened the kiss. The sound of the band and cheering fans faded as she felt his tongue slip inside her mouth. She tangled her hand in his hair, yanking it. She bit down on his lip and used her grip on his hair to pull him away. He stared in awe as she yanked his bottom lip and then released it.

"GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!"

The band left the stage, and the crowd began to break apart. But they stood tangled together.

"Do you kiss like that to everyone you ask to join you?" Steve joked

"I don't, just you," she said, leaning in and kissing him again.

Steve owed Dustin big time.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

this is all your fault @sunsetcougar

in a world where vaggie gets adopted by the little cannibal kid she saved, and then by Rosie, and slips out of cannibal town each night for food that isn't too humane for her tastes-

imagine this version of chaggie meeting at a takeout window in hell

one long, awkward moment of trying not to look at each other...

Charlie: “So! You-"

Vaggie: "Hey."

Charlie: "-hello! Oh sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off-"

Vaggie: "No that was me. You're fine. (why is she in a SUIT) Go on."

Charlie: "Ok. What, uh- (panics in oh no she’s cute and talking to me) (remembers she’s staying in cannibal town) (OH PERFECT A CONVERSATION STARTER!!) -what kind of people do you like?”

Vaggie: “...pardon?”

Charlie: “Oh it's just, I've seen you around and, is that why you’re out on the town a lot? Shopping um, around? (for people to eat)”

Vaggie: “Not really? I’m kinda still.. torn up over my last big life commitment, (literally) so I’m exactly not looking to date anyone right off the bat.”

Charlie: “To date- TO DATE- OH! No no no I wasn’t- I meant dinner!”

Vaggie: “With you?”

Charlie: “IN GENERAL! People you like, as in, to eat? Because you're with the cannibals and haha dinner with me that would be like, a date and-”

Vaggie: “Yeah I’m not into that.”

Charlie: “(dying)-right.”

Vaggie: “The eating people thing. Not the dinner with a pretty woman thing.”

Charlie: “… (charlie.exe has stopped working)…Ah.”

Vaggie: “Right.”

Charlie: “…but Cannibal town?”

Vaggie: “I just live there. I- Junior Meat lives there and I’m sticking with him.”

Charlie: “And Mr. Meat is your…?”

Vaggie: “Kid? Kinda?”

Charlie: “Oh!”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Charlie: “That's wonderful! How did you two- sorry no never mind, too much, um. Does he like take out too? Or any non-human snacks?”

Vaggie: “Gummy bears. And dino nugets.

Charlie: "He has very good taste."

Vaggie: "He likes biting the heads off ‘em.”

Charlie: “Aww me too!!! Well, playing with them, not the head biting but. And you?”

Vaggie: “I used to put them into battle formations and march them off to war.”

Charlie: “That’s so cute.”

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "..."

Vaggie: “You meant what snacks do I like, huh.”

Charlie: “Heheh. Um. Yes! Sorry I’m not. Doing the whole 'have normal conversation with a beautiful girl' thing very good am I?”

Vaggie: “I’d give you five stars. And practice makes perfect.”

Charlie: "And would you...? I mean I wouldn't want to practice on someone who didn't-"

Vaggie: "Be your practice partner? Sure. Sounds fun."

Charlie: “…! I- I know all the best places in hell for inhuman food! Or wait no, for food that isn’t made of people! My treat?”

Vaggie: “My pleasure. (automatically does the little curtsy and hand kiss Rosie’s been badgering her to learn) (panics) I uh, here's my order, I gotta... go tuck in Junior Meat. You know where I’m at?”

Charlie: “(dazed) Hannibal Clown…. C-Cannibal Town!”

Vaggie: “Right. Think I already mentioned it.”

Charlie: “Yes and I saw you with them- so I guessed that you- I can pick you up?”

Vaggie: “Maybe an hour later than this, so Junior's in bed and doesn’t freak out.”

Charlie: “Oh. (droops) You think I’d scare him? I wouldn’t pull out my horns or tail out…”

Vaggie: “It's not you. He’s just kinda jumpy after the… he had a rough extermination day, is all.”

Charlie: “Looked like you did too.”

Vaggie: “What.”

Charlie: “You seem much better now! Not that you didn’t look great then, I mean. I'm sure you always look-”

Vaggie: “You saw- what did you see?”

“Charlie: “I was walking by when the cannibals were helping you. And I think I saw Junior Meat too? He was the one holding your hand?”

Vaggie: “Yeah…?”

Charlie: “I’m, really glad you all found each other. Even if it was a rough day.”

Vaggie: “… they ate part of me in greeting.”

Charlie: “Ugh! They ate-? I mean, aww?”

Vaggie: "Not a normal thing even in hell?"

Charlie: "The definition of normal is... fluid and not very... it wasn't your EYE was it?"

Vaggie: "Eh, wasn't using it anymore anyway."

Charlie: "I guess it counts as. Recycling?"

Vaggie: "Heh."

Charlie: "Sorry."

Vaggie: “No, you're okay. You’re also right though. Maybe it was worth one rough day.”

Charlie: “I’m right?”

Vaggie: “And you’re picking me up tomorrow for dinner.”

Charlie: “!!!! YES! I am! I will, be there, for you. Tomorrow.”

Vaggie: “And…”

Charlie: “And?”

Vaggie: “Didn’t catch a name earlier.”

Charlie: “Oh it’s Charlie! Charlie Morningstar but it’s just Charlie!”

Vaggie: “As in princess?”

Charlie: “Just Charlie.”

Vaggie: “Sweet. (FUCK) See you soon, Charlie.”

Charlie: “….okay….”

Charlie:

Charlie: “Oh my ****ing dad what just happened.”

Charlie, two hour later: "I DIDN'T EVEN ASK HER NAME??"

-At Rosie's Emporium (of vaggie's pain)-

Vaggie: "Junior's finally asleep, so not matter what I tell you, please don't scream."

Rosie: "A very intriguing start! I'm already tickled! Do go on."

Vaggie: “You might need to just kill me.”

Rosie: “I couldn’t possibly! You haven’t even eaten your take out yet~”

Vaggie: “Aunt Rosie help me.”

Rosie: “A girl, hmm?”

Vaggie: “A girl?? She was in a SUIT. She was tall and awkward kept playing with her hair and should've had a puppy dog tail wagging behind her. I called her pretty and said I’d give her five stars. Then I invited myself to dinner with her. And she’s a fucking DEMON.”

Rosie: “We all are down here, darling. Present company excepted of course.”

Vaggie: “HELP. ME.”

Rosie: “Let’s start with the basics, yes? The niceties? What’s the name of this lucky girl?”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Rosie: "Lovely! And does she have a last name?"

Vaggie: "It's just Charlie."

Rosie: "How charming, I like her already~"

Vaggie: "But her last name's Morningstar. Don't scream."

Rosie: (SPITS TEA)

Vaggie: “I know."

Rosie: "Oh... my."

Vaggie: "I know I know!"

Rosie: "An abandoned angel and the princess of hell?"

Vaggie: "She didn't act like a princess of hell! She was like, princess of cute and wearing her heart on her sleeve! Princess of so kissable I could just reach up and grab her bowtie and-"

Vaggie: "FUCK I'm so fucked.”

Rosie: "Not yet you aren't. Don't worry darling, auntie Rosie will get you there~"

Vaggie: "That's not the kind of help I need!"

Rosie: "Speaking of need- a new outfit, yes, something with sparkle and shine, on par with a suit but not one whit more! With a skirt you can move in too of course."

Vaggie: "I DONT NEED A SKIRT I NEED TO STOP BEING GAY OVER THE PRINCESS OF HELL"

Rosie: "Perhaps flowery parasol to hide your dear little spear in..."

[brokenpieces-72]

May I present an idea to you:

Hybrid Sharkgirl reader.

…okay this is a new one… sounds fun.

Not sure how the rules are gonna work with this but why don’t we have a little road trip? Going to include Spirit (callsign of the Jackalope reader).

Macho

You were told you would be shipped out, quite literally to the middle of the ocean. You proved yourself in more ways than one among the rest of the men on board. Your navigation and hunting skills made care for your hybrid features easier.

Your features include gills on your neck, and smoother skin. Your teeth are sharp, and your eyes are fairly dark. When you hit the water, your have a much easier time moving around, your reflexes unmatched by any human underwater. This is part of having a tail that you can shift to when you want, making you merfolk in species. Finding underwater mines, doing underwater repairs to the ship and showing great skills in search and rescue made you a highly valuable asset. The men and women on board showed you respect, and most of your time was spent eating or hunting underwater if not exploring. You’d earned the call sign Macho.

You got word that some hybrids would be visiting the ship why they were sending them you don’t really know. You overhear them mentioning the program you had been a part of. Your mentor tells you it won’t be to replace you or anything, knowing you had overheard some of the crew suggesting it. Apparently they had a hybrid from the same program but it was a land species.

You go with your mentor and the captain to greet the few hybrids they had sent. The chopper landed and out came a large bearded man with horns, a tail and wings-a wing. Followed close was a man with black hair and some facial hair, with jaguar spots along his arms. Behind the both of them you could make out a small shape wearing a poncho.

The captain greets the two men, a captain and a colonel and then greets… a young girl with antlers and rabbit ears, what the heck? Still she stood attention the same as you so she was certainly trained. You’d heard of barrack bunnies but this was definitely not what they meant. She had to be maybe a couple years younger than you, fresh out of the program surely.

The men chat for a while as they walk inside, heading below deck. You walk alongside the girl, Alejandro and Price, called Spirit. The men and your mentor left to talk in private, asking you to stay with Spirit. Wait stay-you’re not a babysitter. Your mentor expresses understanding but suggests talking to Spirit and showing her around would be beneficial. You roll your eyes but agree. Your mentor is grateful, even with the two older newcomers seeming a little unsure.

You show Spirit around the ship and she asks you some questions. Is it comfortable sleeping in such small spaces, how do you play games if the ship rocks constantly, what is cooking meals like, and so on. Reasonable questions, and you can give her the answers. Then she asks about your features. Can you still breathe air okay, do you have a tail, do you hunt like other sharks?

“You ask a lot of questions.” You state bluntly. The girl went a little quieter.

“Should I stop?” She asks nervously. You sigh a little. You could be a little harsh in your tone sometimes.

“Well how would you like it if I asked your some questions. Only fair.” You say shrugging. The girl’s eyes got a little sparkle in them, and then there was a growl. You both froze. Who was that?

Meanwhile your mentor was getting interrogated a little. Alejandro and Price wanted to know about the mentors, retainers, and handlers of the program, and going straight to them was proving fruitless. Having some connections in the military was another direction, one they could walk.

“You’ve never tried to give your ward blood or tried using it to enhance her abilities?” Price asks.

“No, I’d never do that to her. She has enough trouble making friends, if anyone on the crew saw her in a blood craze… to be honest I don’t think we’d see them again.” Your mentor exclaims. It was frustrating to know they’d come all this way only for them to come up short. They hadn’t expected much but they figured bringing Spirit would let her see more of the military life, sniff out what maybe they’d miss. That and having someone interact with another hybrid from program might open some more insight.

“Thank you for your time. We apologize for the accusations.” Price says.

“I understand. We’d heard reports and rumours about your situation. Many were informed by the program to take care and caution with their charges.” Your mentor says.

“Macho is fairing well here, we can assure you.” Your captain says.

“We’ve seen her record. Very impressive, and you clearly run a tight shift here. I commend you.” Alejandro says. “We best be off.”

“We’d need something to eat before we go though. Spirit has an appetite, and it will be a few hours back.” Price says.

You know where the mess hall is, your appetite is pretty big too. Sometimes you’ll go hunting for your own food but the cook on board knows how to make even the most basic of spices work wonders. In that time Spirit had told you plenty about herself and you told her about what you can do. You don’t know if she’s just stroking your ego or if she’s actually impressed but you indulge her.

You keep chatting over food, digging in. Your portions are a good size and the cook isn’t about to stop you from taking seconds before everyone else is served. Hearing the number of different hybrids Spirit works with has you a little jealous. Wraiths were rare but sounded really badass. A harpy? You weren’t sure about that, you had some ugly experiences with harpies when you were younger, mostly picking on you. How the heck was her brother a werewolf? Oh adoption, wait she’s been adopted!?

“Do you have other hybrids to work with?” She asks. You shrug and stuff your face, and that’s all you have to do. “That sucks.”

“I’m a handful enough, the cook would have to work double time if they had someone with my appetite.” You say, smiling. You weren’t really sure how well you’d far with another shark hybrid. It might get ugly. “After we’re done you wanna see my tail?”

“Wanna see mine?” She asks you excitedly.

After you finish eating you hurry to find your mentor. You needed to take a dingy with you so she could see it better, and you could show off some more. Spirit is following you like a puppy, and you feel like a kid again.

“Can we take a dingy out?” You ask, poking your head out from the doorframe. Your mentor, and Price are on the other side and both look at you and then each other.

“Why?” Your mentor asks, looking back at you.

“I wanna show Spirit my tail!” You say excitedly. Your mentor raises an eyebrow, with a bit of pride in his expression.

“Has she eaten?” Price asks. You nod quickly, before Spirit pokes her head out behind you nodding too.

“Don’t go far.” Your mentor says. You and Spirit cheer and hurry to the deck. You don’t hear your mentor saying he was happy to see such an excited and happy side to you.

When Spirit sees your tail she asks to touch it, and you let her. She’s much more gentle than others had been. Your scars are visible, but you keep it to yourself. Spirit asks if she can go into the water herself, and you tell her it should be fine. Thankfully you hold on to her cause it turns out she can’t swim. You get her back in the dingy right away.

Instead you find everything you think is interesting to show her, coming up and holding them for her to look at. The sea bunnies are her favourite. You take her back to the boat once the sun starts to set. She offers to let you see her form next. You agree and she warns you it can be a little scary.

“Wow you weren’t lying, it is kind of scary.” You say, looking at the wendigo side. It’s much bigger than you were expecting. “It’s badass!”

The Wendigo makes happy chirping noises that reminds you of a dolphin. However she has to shift back because the chopper had returned. Before you say good bye, you give Spirit your number, telling her she can text anytime. You smile and wave to three hybrids as they leave. You’re beaming and looking at your cellphone fondly.

“Make a friend?” Your mentor asks. It’s like you were woken up from something as you realized what had all transpired. You’d made a friend. Holy shit that’s awesome!

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday, Shana! 🎉🎉🌻🌻

Untamed or Naruto?

When Naruto is born, the nine tailed fox is pulled from Kushina along with her and it's only because of Minato's quick application of a seal that keeps disaster from becoming even worse.

Dozens of buildings and hundreds of lives are lost in the devestation. Still, it could have been a far worse attack, if Naruto had not been a suitable host for the demon.

It's a risk, one that Kushina screams at him for taking. The seal might not hold. Babies are not meant to be containers. It could kill their daughter, and sure, the nine tail might die along with her, but at what cost?

The seal holds. Naruto's strength holds.

The ordeal nearly kills Kushina and weakens her enough that she'll never again be an active duty ninja.

Minato sleeps at his office after that. Kushina doesn't even let him hold her until she's six months old and it's not until Naruto is almost two that she lets him move back into their home.

Still. Things aren't quite the same between them after that, when Kushina saw how he quick he was to sacrifice his daughter for the village.

Practically, she understands.

But no one has ever accused Kushina of being practical.

~

A container forced to spend their whole life fighting the fox will be weak. There's nothing for it - all their energy and chakra and time is spent subduing the fox, consciously or subconsciously.

Her daughter has been sabotaged from her first breath, made a target and given no way to defend herself.

"You want me to marry your daughter?" Kakashi squeaks, wondering if this is some new cruel prank she's playing on him. "She's a baby!"

But Kushina is serious. She's serious a lot these days, but at his question she almost smiles. "Not now. In about twenty years."

"Why," he starts, and then doesn't know how to continue.

"You're selfish," she says and his shoulders hunch. "Naruto won't be able to protect herself when people discover what she is and start coming after her. Minato has seen to that. My identity as the container was a well kept secret. Thanks to the attack, half of Konoha knows what Naruto is, and the other nations will hear of it, and they will come for her."

"I can protect her without marrying her," he insists, looking down at the baby in Kushina's arms. The idea that anyone, never mind him, will marry her someday is ridiculous.

"You're selfish," she repeats. "You'll choose her if she belongs to you."

Kakashi doesn't know what to say to that. He knows why Minato hasn't come home.

He goes to him, and his teacher just shrugs and says, "Don't you want to be my son-in-law, Kakashi?" Then, "Don't worry about it for the next twenty years. A lot can happen between now and then."

Gai hears he's been betrothed - uhg - to the hokage's daughter and congratulates him on an excellent political match and then takes pity on him and takes him to a bar.

It's his first time drinking and he probably shouldn't have let Gai goad him into a drinking contest.

~

Naruto is wary of people.

Some people love her, coo over her being the hokage's daughter and a brave little girl, patting her head and shoving sweets into her hands.

Some people glare at her, hiss about her being a demon who's killed the hokage's real daughter, and slam doors in her face and throw rocks at her back.

"Is it weird having a husband?" Ino asks while they make flower crowns from the days discarded flowers. It's the end to their first week at the academy and her parents are fighting - again - so Naruto had gone home with Ino instead. The Yamanakas are always nice to her.

Her mother doesn't want her to attend the academy, says its a waste of time and dangerous anyway. Her father says that the child of the hokage can't not attend the academy.

Neither of them had asked her what she wanted.

She pauses, thinking. Kakashi greets her and bows to her but he's ANBU, something she's not supposed to know but seems very obvious, so she doesn't really see him outside of when he comes by to talk to her parents sometimes. "No? He's not my husband yet anyway."

She's overheard him a couple times asking her father to find her a different husband, saying that he'll be bodyguard forever if only he doesn't have to marry her.

It hurts that Kakashi thinks she's a demon too. She'd always thought he was really cool and had thought it was nice that she'd have a nice, cool husband when she was older.

But she doesn't think she wants to marry someone who hates her.

~

The Uchihas aren't always nice to her, but Mikoto always is, coming over to her house to talk to her mother and dragging her sons with her, or keeping her door open to Naruto whenever she comes knocking.

Itachi stops coming early on, promoted quickly and no time to tag along to his mother's house visits. Sasuke is there and he scows and pouts but can be efficiently bullied into helping her get into whatever trouble she's decided is most worth her attention that day, so he's pretty all right, for a boy.

Naruto has to pay a lot of really close attention to people, because she never knows if they're going to be nice and mean, and the Uchihas aren't like the Yamanakas. Their reactions differ, so she has to pay attention.

Something is wrong.

Her mother doesn't believe her.

Her father doesn't listen.

She goes to Kakashi out of desperation. She tries to avoid him as much as she can, but he's the one person who might be able to convince her father that something is wrong.

"Ah, Naruto-hime, what can I do for you?" he asks, tone respectful. When she was younger, she liked that nickname. Now she knows that he's mocking her.

"Something is wrong with the Uchiha and you need to get my father to do something about it," she says.

His face is hidden by his stupid mask but she can tell he's frowning. "Why would you-"

She cuts him off, wanting this conversation to be as short as possible. He doesn't believe her either - shocker - but he agrees to look into because it's the quickest way to end the conversation.

Danzo is quietly, secretly, executed for treason. Madara Uchiha is listed as an active S class missing Konoha nin.

There are lots of talks about what, exactly, to do about the Uchihas, on how to handle their almost betrayal. Considering the outside manipulation, her father is inclined to ignore it, but something has to be done. Symbolically, if nothing else.

"If they feel excluded, then do something to make them feel included," Naruto says, nine years old and exhausted from the years of tension between the Uchihas and - well, everyone. Sasuke is so worried about his reputation that it takes ages to get him to do anything fun. It's almost quicker to get Shikamaru involved, which is saying something. "Do something no one else can question."

"Itachi or Sasuke?" her father asks, head bent over his paperwork.

She doesn't know what he's talking about. "For what?"

"Which do you prefer?" he asks.

"Sasuke?" she says, because Itachi is always very nice to her, especially after she helped prevent him from becoming a mass murderer, but he's never once helped her prank Iruka-sensei.

He nods and says nothing more and she rolls her eyes and goes to find something to do. Kiba has started training with Akamaru and she bets she can totally derail that without getting yelled at by Tsume.

A week later Sasuke climbs into her window and hisses furiously, "We're getting married?"

Huh.

Well, it looks like Kakashi got what he wanted.

She decided a long time ago she didn't want to marry him, and Sasuke is her friend, so this is fine. It's better.

Sasuke pats her shoulder and doesn't even yell at her when she ruins his shirt with tears.

He's already a better husband than Kakashi could ever be.

~

Minato is dreading today. Enrolling Naruto into the Academy had seemed like the right thing to do seven years ago, because what would people say about a hokage who didn't, but now that it's Graduation Day and he's going to have to deal with the gossip around the Hokage's daughter failing to even become a genin.

Iruka comes to drop off the team assignments and he does a double take when looking through them. "She passed?"

The chunin blinks and then asks, "Who, Hokage-sama? Haruno Sakura? It's rare for a civilian child, but her academic scores are quite high, even if her physical is lacking. She has a lot of potential."

He waves a dismissive hand. "No. My daughter."

The silence turns frigid and when he looks up it's too Iruka outright glaring at him. He's so taken aback that he can't even reprimand him for it. Iruka swallows, visibly forcing his face into less mutinous expression, and says, "Naruto is Top Kunoichi. That's why she's on the same team as Sasuke, who's Rookie of the Year, even though I was hesitant on putting them together when they already work so well together. They could use variety. Sakura is Dead Last, but only because of her physical skills. With the right teacher, she'll shape up quickly."

"Top Kunoichi," he repeats dubiously. "I've seen her test scores."

"Not since I took over her class, apparently," he says, and that tone should get him in trouble, but Minato doesn't care about that now. "Her previous instructor was ... biased. Under fair instruction, she excels."

She can't excel. She's handicapped, and it's his fault, not hers, but that doesn't change what she's capable of. "That's not possible."

Iruka's eyes narrow. "She's passed my tests. Now it's up to her jounin sensei."

Assigning someone with no biases is impossible, but he can at least assign someone who's never matched the shinobi art of lying about things they don't care about.

~

Naruto hopes this is a nightmare. Sasuke is pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking at any of them.

"Um," Sakura says hesitantly, "nice to meet you, Tsume-sensei."

She scowls at all of them. "I hope you fail. I have a clan to run! I don't have time to deal with untrained, undisciplined puppies!"

They probably shouldn't have broken into the Inuzuka compound so many times. Tsume has plenty of reasons to make their lives miserable. Or, well, hers and Sasuke's. Sakura's never done anything to her.

At least it's not Kakashi.

[tojisun]

our shallow graves — 01

recom miles quaritch x recom fem reader

!! smut (between fuck buddies outside of main pair) - minors dni; heat (as a theme); mean quaritch; power imbalance; references to (made up past), including death and prev dead lovers; worldbuilding; fast slow-burn; the reader adopts a nickname (callsign) which gets used // 3k words

: this chapter lays the foundation of the fic and introduces the initial dynamic of quaritch and the reader; reader’s callsign is 10/10 from that one penguin in madagascar; this fic made me fascinated with deja blu fr; hope u guys would luv it <33

next // m.list

you don’t understand why you were one of the early ones they awakened. sure you signed up for the shitty program – because who wouldn’t want to be an eight-feet tall blue alien? apparently, other than the scientists, you were the only one in your squad who wanted the transfer – but you didn’t expect to be the first in the line up.

to be in colonel miles quaritch’s squad. 

other than walker and mansk, you knew absolutely no one from the deja blu team. but you’ve heard of them, alright. who wouldn’t? they have lines of kills and assists in terra and, now, in pandora; they are warmongers at most, rascals at least. 

you stare up at their imposing figures, trying to make sense of the fact that they’ve all been killed in action. 

despite not remembering much, you’ve come to terms with your own death during the initial war – a lone pilot, only meant to be an escort, gunned down by trudy’s bird before being further propelled into the lush forest floors of pandora by the banshees. it is a boring life story, one that is only worth telling because of your “sacrifice” in alien territory. 

(you still don’t understand why the shrink insisted on showing you the syphoned clips of your death. 

“it’s to help you move on,” she said as if she could ever understand the horror of seeing yourself fall to your death. as if you had not been a human trapped inside a fucking burning bird, being torn to pieces by, what could literally only be, flying dinosaurs. as if you were just another collateral. just another number added to the charts.

“i’m sorry,” she added, a small smile on her face as she turned to you, her hair tied in a neat bun and her white blouse tucked in her pencil skirt. “ultimately, thank you for your service, ma’am.”

fucking piece of shit. 

you wondered if she even has a licence or the RDA just handed your files to some science nerd and was told to play god for their little blue alien. to fix you right up so that they could send you to another suicide mission.)

but that wasn’t the case for the rest of the deja blu. you know they were directly fighting; leaders of smaller squadrons, following the beat of papa dragon. walker and mansk, themselves, have touched down with guns in their amp suits, directly under wainfleet’s command. you don’t know how they died – you couldn’t even fathom wainfleet dying. and yet there he stands with the others, bald as fuck but imposing nevertheless.

your eyes shift to the man beside him. not the tallest, zdinarsik got that title, but the one in command. 

colonel miles quaritch. big, blue, and seething. 

one more thing you noticed in this whole fuckery is that your recombinant body is short. you stood about two inches shorter than walker, and she’s a full head shorter than anyone else. as you line up beside her, with fike on your other side, you three could very well make a groupie of santa’s little helpers.

wainfleet smirks like he’s thinking the same. you would have rolled your eyes at him but the colonel began to move close, his combat boots echoing against metal floors, snuffing out any noise from the squad. 

“and who are you, kid?” he asks, standing directly in front of you.

you tell him your name, internally wincing when your tail unconsciously coils around your leg. you still don’t know how to control it – an easy tell of your anxiousness. the colonel’s lips lift up in a smirk, his eyes flashing at your tail in slight mirth, before recognition crosses his eyes.

“rico?” 

you startle at the use of your unofficial callsign, a feat only made possible after climbing up the ranks and being heralded as one of the best pilots.

(trudy had been the best pilot in hell’s gate; the one with the most medals, and rightfully so. she was the one who ripped through the skies with her samson, zigzagging like she had been riding a banshee instead of a plane. 

the one with the kindest heart.

there is a part of you that is grateful that it had been trudy who took you down.)

“yes sir,” you reply, blinking up at him after he’s dismissed your salute, feeling a little shy at being recognized, somewhat, by the colonel. 

quaritch hums, tilting his head to the side in thought, watching you with narrowed eyes. briefly, you wonder if he’s asking himself why it had not been socorro who was awakened. to be honest, you are asking yourself the same thing because it doesn’t matter if you were one of the best, not when socorro, sweet and gentle and pregnant socorro, had the colonel’s favouritism. 

(socorro’s child was a beautiful boy with sun-kissed hair and chocolate eyes. he was such a darling even though you’ve only seen the infant in passing, held lovingly in his mother’s arms.)

they could’ve made a blue alien baby this time around. maybe, then, they’d be happier too. 

the colonel certainly doesn’t deserve it but socorro does. 

“were you a private, rico?” quaritch asks, pulling you from your thoughts. he leans close again, dramatically bending his head down which highlights the difference in your heights.  

“no sir,” you reply. “i was a lance corporal, sir.”

he hums again, finally backing up and giving you more room to breathe. then, he sends you a smile. “well then, welcome to the team, kid.”

the tension seeps out of you as you nod, thanking him before he turns to the other recoms, chatting amiably. walker bumps you with her shoulder and you see her smile from your peripheral.

you give her a smaller one before willing your tail to finally uncoil from your damn leg and act normal.

of course it just swishes behind you.

-------

training is gruesome. you honestly thought that it would be easier with your stronger and newer body, but with the colonel around, that thought vanished. 

suicide drills were the squad’s least favourite, you especially. not only were the stakes increased to push the limits of your new bodies, but you all were always watched by the scientists, with their little sticks poking at your bodies and their little wires strapped down to whatever skin they wanted to bother this time around. 

wainfleet started screaming at them, calling them “fucking losers,” and barking at them to give the squad some space. quaritch quickly took over, grunting that whether they were losers or not, whatever they were doing was necessary. that said, he sent the scientists a heated glare, making it known that his words do not necessarily reflect his feelings – wainfleet had taken this as his victory. 

the tests weren’t fun, but you appreciated their purposes; through them, you learned that your na’vi DNA was extracted from a tipani warrior. the sentiment isn’t lost in you – they robbed the graves of the na’vi. you think you are used to what humans could do all for conquering pandora but for many days, you were unable to stomach any packet meal they fed your squad. walker had to talk you out of it because your unintentional hunger strike made you lag behind – an error that had you being summoned to the colonel’s office.

“we’re all tryin’ our best here, rico,” quaritch’s voice echoes in his office. 

you’ve never been inside the one he had back in hell’s gate and you had hoped that you would never see the day of being in his current one, but there you stood, tensed as the colonel studied you. 

he refused to sit on his customized chair, choosing instead to pace just behind his desk, his bulging arms hidden from your view as he clasped his hands behind his back. quaritch’s lips are pursed, almost pouty, and you beat yourself up at the thought of finding him – your nose scrunches at this – attractive when he’s busy scolding you. 

“our circumstances ain’t ideal, but we’re back as some lab-grown native and we oughta take advantage of what we’ve become,” he says, continuing his tirade amidst your silence, snapping you out of your humiliating thoughts. “your little stunt costs us a delay on proceeding with a recon of the area and the only reason i’m not benching you is because the general has faith in you – faith that, frankly, i’m still not understanding.”

your back straightens at his words, and you tamp down the need to wince at his scathing tone. he is right, after all. for some fucked up reason, the general – both ardmore who’s stationed in pandora and gonzales who’s still in terra – backed the need to have your soul transfer commence. you still don’t know what it had been for, given that past your flying skills, you are just another idiot who knows her way around a gun. not memorable to many, except, apparently, for those in command.

(‘maybe this was why the colonel doesn’t particularly like me,’ you would think later, safe in your room. ‘socorro may have the colonel’s attention but what is a colonel – one who already failed his priority mission – against two generals?’)

“i’m sorry, sir,” you utter, clear but not loud, and quaritch just watches you again with his unwavering stare.

finally, he grunts, turning his body away from you to fully face the glass window that oversees the lower-level operations. you take this as his dismissal and scurry out of his office.

-------

“and she’s finally back from tryna kill herself!” wainfleet’s voice echoes in the nearly empty mess hall and you roll your eyes at him, glowering when he just proceeds to chuckle.

you plop your tray in front of walker, sending her a small smile which she returns with a cute beam. her braids are out of her hair tie today, letting them frame her face in the way you saw the omatikaya prefer. shooting a quick glance at zdinarsik’s way and it’s clear that someone else prefers it this way too. 

“what’d the pukes say?” fike asks, sloshing around his packet meal, sneering in disgust when it jiggles like a slab of jello. more than the fact that you found out that your gene came from a corpse, this ‘food’ is about to do the trick of making you want to pursue starvation again.

“said i needa take so many pills.” you shrug, tearing open your packet of faux meat with pinched lips and your shoulders tensed like you’re expecting to be shot at. “apparently, i stunted my growth.”

prager laughs. “aww, you gonna remain short?”

“aww, you gonna remain hairy?” you shot back, snorting when prager just pouts as he raises his hand to rub at his fuzzy chin. gross.

wainfleet barks out another laugh at the exchange before reaching across the table to place an apple onto your tray. “‘ere ya go, rico. real food.”

you don’t know where he got the fruit, you don’t even know if it’s ‘real’ like he just said, but you do not have room to complain. fake fruit is a whole lot better than the slush in the compound. 

“thanks,” you say, smiling bashfully, not expecting wainfleet, of all people, to adopt the mother hen role. he winks at you in reply, wiggling his brows, before straightening back up and fooling around with prager. 

you dump the packet back to your tray before picking up the apple. you wipe it on your shirt before bringing it up for a bite, humming in delight at the crunching sound it made.

“delicious?” mansk asks from beside you, his lips quirking up in a smile when you turn to him.

“yummy,” you reply, humming, taking another bite. he snickers, bumping your leg with his, before placing his own apple onto your tray too. 

“you gotta eat more,” is all he says when you make a questioning sound before bending over to hover his lips on the shell of your ear. “news spread fast that you got your ass reprimanded by the colonel yesterday.”

“uh-huh,” you mutter, unable to focus on what he’s saying at the sudden surge of heat engulfing you. 

your lips feel dry all of a sudden, your throat parched from unknown thirst, and you turn to mansk, wanting to ask him what the hell is happening to you – was this the fault of the fucking apple? – only to see his own face flushed, blue skin turning into dark purple. 

his eyes meet yours and all of a sudden, you feel like you are doused with gasoline and set ablaze.

huh. well, if that isn’t interesting.

-------

“jesus- devin, not too ha- ah!” 

your back arches at a particularly hard thrust, your jaw falling open for a drawn out garble. the explosion of pleasure races across your synapses, filling you up with nothing but a deafening white noise. blearily, you recognize mansk’s bigger hands wrapping around your waist, lifting you up from his lap only to drop you down again. a hiccupped moan escapes your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, feeling your walls spasming around him.

“rico, fuck, so good. so good.” mansk’s voice is faint, falling from his kiss-swollen lips in murmurs. you would have missed it without your new heightened senses, but the sound of his voice tickles your ears, making your tail flick behind you as you preen at his praises.

a giggly “thank you” barely makes it past your teeth when mansk manhandles you again, humping his hips up to grind himself along your pelvis, driving him deeper. you choke on your words, unable to stop the moan that is punched from your lungs, the sound so loud that mansk had to cover your mouth with one of his hands.

“not so loud,” he mumbles, bumping his forehead against yours. the sound of his rugged voice makes you clench around his length, making you feel utterly stuffed. you drag your blunt nails across his back, your eyes fluttering rapidly, feeling yourself tipping into the peak of your orgasm.

mansk laughs. “y’r unbelievable.” 

you do not know what it is that you said, your wobbly voice still smothered by his hand, as you get lost in the way he bounces you on his lap. mansk goes quiet, only letting muffled grunts pierce the air between the two of you, and you feel the sudden surge of primal need unleashing deep in your belly.

the tight clench of your abdomen almost hurts, your orgasm ripping through the remnants of your sanity. your last thought was: ‘motherfucker, why did no one ever tell you that the na’vi have heats?’

it is later when the haze lifts up that the warmth licking up from the core of your muscles – almost like it is burrowed deep within your blood vessels – is finally snuffed out. 

mansk is asleep on his bed, dead to the world. you shuffle out of his loose embrace, blinking blearily before realizing that he had cleaned you two up. a small smile graces your lips as you fully slink out of his bed, looping your tail around your leg as you pick up the pieces of your off-duty apparel. 

pressing a kiss on his forehead, and rolling your eyes when he sleepily bats you away like you are a fly, you grab your respirator and quietly leave his room. 

standing in the empty hallways, turning your head from side to side, you study the stillness of the metal walkway with bated breath, afraid that someone will eventually see you making your walk of shame to your room. when the silence continues, you finally begin to move, lithe steps only broken by the continuous hissing from your respirator as you occasionally take slight sips of air. 

nearing your room, your heart finally settles, your tensed back loosening up at the feeling of safety. you cross past one of the intersecting hallways, quick in your steps, when a hand reaches from the dark and grabs your wrist.

a scream nearly bubbles from your lips when a palm is shoved to your face, shutting you up once again. panicked eyes turn, trying to see who’s got such a strong hold on you, only for your heart to careen even faster when you make eye contact with quaritch.

no-

his sneer is terrifying, his bright amber eyes glinting with so much malice, it pins you right on the spot. cold dread washes over you like a tide, chasing away the quiet elation that settled deep within your veins. the heat is returning, you know that, but it is muted and mingled with fear that you can’t even feel the need to scratch the itch. 

your ears are pinned onto your skull, your tail drooping as it wraps itself around your leg again. this time the colonel doesn’t look at it in amusement, instead he continues to glare at you.

“colonel-” 

“next time, fuck around quietly,” quaritch barks out, cutting you off. “and go take a goddamn shower. you reek.”

he snatches his arm from your wrist as though he’s been burned before marching away, his combat boots echoing in the hallway. tears prick the back of your eyes and you run to your room, heaving, trying to calm yourself.

anger, hurt, and shame bubble deep inside your stomach, expanding, until you are finally reduced to tears. you cry your frustration away, hoping that by doing so, you would stop thinking about how good the colonel smelled as he glowered at you with his sharp eyes. 

(if only you had glanced at quaritch as he walked away, you would have seen the way he burrowed his face on his palm, chasing the sweet scent that roused him from his sleep and pushed his own heat into its beginnings.)

next

[exploring-the-spiderverse]

Expanding on that post I made of Noir adopting Hobie but I love the idea of that making Peni and Hobie adopted siblings. Soooo general headcanons and thoughts time! (Inspired by @ryderdire and @queercoded-disney-villain and the comments they left!)

This got a lot longer than expected so there is a lot more stuff under the read more!

I like to think that Peni and Hobie already knew each other beforehand but in passing. Hobie knew of her and occasionally they talked but he never really got to know her

Of course that all changed when Gwen gathered her small team of Spider Folks to save Miles

After everything goes down and they have time to actually hangout, Hobie tries to get to know her at first. He thought her mech was pretty sick. She mostly avoided him though. He didn’t exactly know why but didn’t care. He assumed it was cause her and Miles weren’t on the best of terms anymore. And while her, Noir, and Ham were still close, there was some tension between them. Especially since she sided with Miguel (at first).

When Noir adopted him (that’s an entirely different story to tell later), he was sorta shocked that Peni was Noir’s adopted daughter. He thought the two weren’t on great terms. Noir explained that despite what she did he still loved her. Fathers are supposed to love their children no matter what right?

Of course since Peni was Noir’s daughter, that meant they had to be around each other more often than not. It was…very tense at first to say the least. Noir usually hung out with Ham (he wasn’t allowed to stay with Peter B after Mayday was born) so it was an awkward experience having serious conversations in a cartoony world.

Eventually, Hobie cracked what was eating at Peni. Despite her being more closed off (which everyone who knew her said was odd) Hobie somehow managed to break through her walls. Jokes and his general demeanor slowly eased her.

In general, Hobie and Peni are a force to be reckoned with. With him being more reckless in his fighting style and Peni being more coordinated, enemies are afraid of even getting near them. Especially cause of SP//dr.

If anyone dare lay a hand on Peni, Hobie would be sending an electric guitar through their head with no hesitation. That’s his sister goddamn it.

Hobie does like to paint his nails and allows Peni to do his sometimes. He’ll do Peni’s for her too but they end up more messy than what she can do. They’re still passable though as he’s done Gwen’s before a few times.

As they get more comfortable around each other, Hobie absolutely will tease the hell out of Peni. She isn’t good at teasing him as he just doesn’t give a shit but does eventually finds some fuel.

Like Noir, Hobie will carry around Peni on his back if asked.

Secretly, he taught Peni some curse words so when she said fuck around Ham, he was immediately on his tail. Hobie doesn’t regret it though. He thought it was hilarious.

Hobie will carry Peni under his arm like a sack of potatoes when she’s not in her mech occasionally. He’ll be just hanging out with someone and have her under his arm.

Peni will fall asleep if held for too long. She just finds it relaxing. Hobie finds it amusing.

Hobie has taken Peni to his world and has let her join in on his rioting. She actually ended up being more of an anarchist than Hobie. He was THRILLED about it.

She was even given yellow shoelaces by Hobie and goddamn Noir was proud as hell

Speaking of Noir, he does also have blue shoelaces but keeps them around his belt. He doesn’t want to make them dirty or destroy them by accident. Hobie is secretly very happy Noir accepted them and wears them.

The two siblings will argue about their world’s food. Hobie says that his cuisine is unique and good but Peni just tells him that he’s clearly never had Japanese cuisine. They will always argue about this.

Occasionally they’ll go to Noir and ask him. He’s literally only had 1930s food so he thinks everything is amazing. Everything except beans on toast. Telling Hobie he’s had this in his world before as a cheap meal.

Hobie will play his guitar for Peni and has learned songs that she likes. Even if they aren’t from his era. It gives him a chance to learn more stuff and make Peni happy.

He refuses to play anything that he considers too slow though. He’d rather rock out than play a slow waltz.

Peni will sneak into Hobie’s world and replace his alarm clocks with indestructible ones. He HATES when she does this.

Once when Hobie got burnt slightly by a rouge molotov, Peni ended up making him a sorta protective bandage that was fire proof to wear under his suit. He ends up using it both for him and anyone who is with him. Peni was extremely happy to help.

Speaking of riots, Peni once got pushed over and nearly shot by a cop but Hobie DID NOT let anything else happen to her. Let’s say his guitar needed an extremely good wash afterwards. Brains aren’t easy to get out of guitars. Ham was horrified but Peni kept telling him she’s seen worse. That didn’t help.

Peni and Gwen do have girl days which means Hobie isn’t allowed. Despite trusting Gwen with his life, he will tell her to bring back Peni unharmed or something will happen. Gwen knows he’s serious about that.

Peni loves to tease Hobie about his romantic relationship with Miles and Pavitr which surprisingly makes him flustered. No one knows how she does it but she does.

(I’ll explain their romantic relationship in more detail later but Hobie is dating Miles and Pavitr while Gwen is dating just Miles. Pavitr is still dating his girlfriend while dating both Hobie and Miles. Gwen was never romantically attracted to the others except Miles.)

Hobie will get dragged along to the mall by Peni. It’s a hilarious sight. Just this punk dude with his younger, more preppy sister.

Since Hobie can purr like most Spider Folks (silly headcanon of mine), he does it a lot around Peni. She can’t purr but enjoys hearing Hobie purr. It’s comforting.

Hobie will hold Peni’s hand if she asks and isn’t ashamed of it. He’s a big brother goddamn it, he will act like one.

He did teach her a bit of guitar too. He even gifted her one. It was a not so great one but Peni treasures it. It has a bunch of stickers on it.

When Peni cries over her past, Hobie is very commonly the one that is immediately there to comfort her. Purring nonstop and giving her words of comfort. He knows what it’s like to have no one to cry to and no comfort.

Hobie doesn’t cry much but when he does, which is rare, Peni is always nearby. She doesn’t even hesitate. Hugging him as hard and close as she can. He appreciates it.

Peter B likes to call them Peni and Hobs (like Calvin and Hobbes)

Hobie wears some pins on his jacket that Peni gave him. They’re mostly just similar to the normal ones he already wears but some are cutesy. He will not take them off even if he’s made fun of.

They rarely stay over at Noir’s place (he lives with Ham) but when they do, they’ll share the guest room. It’s always chaos.

Ham has gotten more than one noise complaint from his neighbors about loud guitars playing at night. He loves them both but god they give him a headache.

If Hobie wasn’t held back by anyone when he met Miguel again after becoming Peni’s brother, he would have already bashed Miguel into oblivion. He was NOT pleased about him manipulating Peni.

[generic-sonic-fan]

Happy pride! Here's some headcanons.

In-depth explanations beneath the cut (please keep in mind that these are personal and that I actually don't really stand by any that strongly! This is just for fun.)

Sonic: okay do I really need to explain this one?

Knuckles: What can I say, his gender contains multitudes. He's definitely a member of the "I don't care" camp for both gender and sexuality. He is what he is, loves who he loves, and doesn't give two rips about what other people might say. I like to imagine he plays around with both genders of clothing from echidna culture.

Amy: oh Amy, my sweet summer child. It's so autistic and queer of you to relentlessly declare your love for someone of the opposite sex because it's what is expected of you. I did the same in third grade before I realized that the other girls meant what they were saying about their target boy. Heteronormativity is a bitch, get well soon <3

Rouge: I think she fucked around with being she/they for a while before settling back on she/her. And bi icon, of course.

Blaze: okay do I really need to explain this one?

Silver: That is one nonbinary hedgehog if I ever saw one! He's a he/him by convenience alone. He hasn't had the chance to explore his sexuality yet unfortunately.

Big: He's good with he/him and that's all he cares about. Not a super strong connection to his assigned gender at birth but he likes being a boy well enough. As for his sexuality, he never figured out what everyone was going on about when it came to sex, and only recently figured out it was because he was literally missing that 'sexual attraction' thing.

Shadow: is nonbinary as fuck and has no idea. Honey, seeing masculinity as a burden you have to bear is not normal!!! He's also demi-ace. It takes a very close relationship with someone to even consider sexual attraction.

Cream: happy being a girl! Hasn't really thought about crushing on anyone yet.

Tails: Internalized homophobia + transphobia from being bullied go brrrrrr. Besides, Sonic doesn't spend much time thinking about these things, so why should he? (Tails. Tails listen to me. Sonic's aro and knew he was trans at an unusually young age. he's a statistical outlier with how early he figured it out PLEASE consider that and don't base your self-discovery journey on him. . .)

Metal: You all know my headcanons for this one. Metal was assigned male by Eggman from its earliest iterations and gender dysphoria is literally 98% of all of its problems. Please get this robot some estrogen. As for sexuality, full romantic attraction is definitely on the table but jesus christ this robot needs to do some work on itself before that. Please read Complex Inquiries if you want me to elaborate that's like my master's thesis on this subject

Vector: Gave his gender a really good thinking before shrugging and sticking with his assigned gender at birth. Also pan as hell, definitely dated some femboys in high school I think.

Espio: Currently in the process of speculating if he's nonbinary. Keeps very quiet about it though. But he knows he likes dudes, so there's that.

Charmy: He's bit-sexual. Whatever he needs to be for the punchline of the joke to land, frankly.

Omega: For narrative parallel reasons to Metal Sonic, I love to headcanon that Omega wasn't programmed with a gender, but then discovered that masculinity is traditionally associated with aggression and violence and went ham. Doesn't mind getting she/her'd, doesn't exactly like they/them, but it/its is of the highest offense. He will kill you for that. As for his sexuality, (I know he's a robot but PLEASE hear me out) he's demi-aro! He'd have no idea that any sort of feelings on his part are happening until it was too late. He'd hate himself for it and promptly bury said feelings beneath so many layers.

[rqgnarok]

orange juice - tommy miller (ii)

fandom: the last of us (tv show & video game)

wc: 7,664

warnings: mentions of alcoholism, ptsd, death and gore as seen on the show and games. no pronouns for reader.

summary: a surprising turn of events brings tommy back to your life and he won't let sleeping dogs lie.

sequel to dial drunk and loosely inspired in noah kahan's orange juice

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

“He’s looking at you again.”

“Let him,” you tell Maria, picking at your pancakes with your fork. It’s almost 10 PM and she took you out to eat breakfast for dinner, but it was enough incentive to get you out of the house after two weeks of no human interaction. That, and the fact that she’s paying. “He can stare all he wants, it’s not a crime.”

“Feels like one,” she shrugs, eyesight momentarily stuck to the corner of her eye where you know she’s scouting her target, her lips a tight, displeased line. “And your shoulders say otherwise, all up against your ears. You look like you’re waiting for the electric chair.”

You roll your eyes so hard it brings back to life the headache you’ve been nursing for the last couple of days. It had gently placed itself as a quiet dull in the back of your head and returns full force now. 

The diner is half-empty– not an unusual occasion at this time of night, but the voices and laughter from fellow Jackson citizens only worsen the ache of the giant bruise that is your body right now. 

“It would be a kinder fate, I think.”

Maria stands her ground, grimacing. “God, who even is this guy? When you said there was some bad history I thought you meant, like, a nasty ex. That man is looking like a cloud belongs permanently above his head.”

Who even is Tommy Miller? It’s a good enough question, one you never thought you’d have to answer in your life after the world ended.

You’d been in New York when the infected spread like wildfire across the country. There was barely enough time while running for your life to think about what might’ve happened to the Miller boys.

You hoped. By God, you hoped like you rarely dared these days that Joel, Tommy, and Sarah made it out safely. Guilt swallowed you whole the second you thought about it for too long. 

You relinquished any rights you had on them when you abandoned them. You ran out of Austin with your tail between your legs and cut off all contact with them, one last futile attempt to put Tommy’s life back together. 

Why are you being so fucking difficult?

I’m done watching you wreck your life, Tommy. I’m not picking up again tonight, or ever. Call Joel. 

The first time you saw Tommy Miller again after two decades you were too in the throes of a panic attack to believe he was real. 

It wouldn’t be the first time you confused the sight of a stranger for your long-lost friend. Freckles on fair skin, cow eyes so brown they could be black and broad shoulders under jean jackets; they’re more common than you’d think. 

But they always turn around and the illusion always breaks. It’s your designed personal penitence, to chase after the man that knew how to hurt you better than anyone in your life, and that you let because you loved him. Love, still. Time and distance and the fucking apocalypse weren’t enough to diminish what you’ve always felt for Tommy Miller. 

You loved him even when you left him. It’s why you left him, even if it killed you in the process. 

But this time it was him. Along with a group of newcomers, he stumbled across Jackson and you found yourself trying to blink away the sight of a ghost in the town square to no avail. His expression was tight and distrustful, so Joel it created a vacuum of longing in your belly even through the panic. 

And fuck, man, Joel. The last time you talked to Tommy was the last time you talked to his brother, too. A call right after you hung up on the youngest Miller that had him using all the curses available in his vocabulary on his brother’s name.

How many times has he done this to you?

Too many. 

Fucking dumbass. Hope you keep ‘im in the doghouse a little longer this time. 

I’m serious, Joel, I’m not picking after him again. 

Joel had tried to convince you otherwise, but you both knew his heart wasn’t in it. You’d both witnessed Tommy’s mishaps once too many times and he knew dropping Tommy wasn’t a decision you’d make lightly. 

Because it meant dropping him as well, and Sarah. It meant giving up on the realest family you had, most likely for good.

He’s gonna hate this. I think that boy would rather lose an arm than lose you.

He can live without me, Joel.

No, he’d said, oddly solemn, like he knew something you didn’t. No, he can’t. 

But he’d been wrong. Here Tommy was, stumbling into your life as if he hadn’t left it at all. He'd locked eyes with you across town like the sea of curious citizens peering at the dirty strangers from outside town didn’t exist. 

Even if it hadn’t been him those thousand times you thought you saw him, in your mind Tommy was everywhere: dead in some shallow common grave in Austin, turned and without any control over his body with a bite scar on his arm, running for his life with a gun in his hand and Joel by his side, hiding behind the alcohol like he’d been doing the last time you saw him.

The possibilities were endless and terrible, but they hadn’t killed you yet. 

The way Tommy’s face fell in realization almost did. You’d rubbed at your eyes and strained your eyesight as best you could, but the hallucination refused to fade. He was still there, standing tall, weary and tired and hopeful.

He’d opened his mouth, the shape of your name already on his lips when you turned around and ran for your life back into your house. Your lungs didn’t fill with a full breath until you turned all the locks and leaned against the door, heart hammering against your ribs and nausea crawling up your throat.

As if Tommy would chase after you, knocking on your door and demanding something from you, or maybe just to be mean about the same things he’s always held against you. 

But he hadn’t. Hiding worked. You didn’t hear anything from him or about him from Maria, so you stood your ground. You didn’t even throw a fit when she came to force you into the shower so you could have dinner together, only to avoid more questions you couldn’t answer.

Who is he? You looked like the Grim Reaper was walking into town, do you know him? Did he hurt you? I swear to God, if he did he’s not staying, hon, I promise–

An old friend, was the explanation you’d settled on, the biggest understatement of your life. We grew up together and went our separate ways way before the outbreak. Wasn’t really a clean break. 

Maria took it, albeit hesitantly, and the worried glances she’d been sending your way in the diner grew tenfold when Tommy walked in. He sat at the bar and ordered a drink with a piece of pecan pie. Something in your heart clenched when the waiter put a colorful drink in front of him and Tommy poured it down without even blinking.

So what if he’s drinking, still? It’s why you walked away from him, isn’t it? If your ultimatum meant nothing to him then that’s not your problem, even if it makes something sorrowful and ugly bloom in your belly.

You look away just as he turns his head towards your booth so he doesn’t catch you looking. Instead, you catch him more than a handful of times, his gaze hot and piercing. 

It’s always been unnerving, being under his careful eye. 

“I don’t think he’s gonna stop.”

Fuck, you think. “Then I will,” you sigh in mourning for your nice evening and hit the table lightly with your fist as you stand. Maria hisses your name and goes to grab your arm but you’re already walking towards Tommy. The next time he sneaks a look he finds you closer than expected. 

You would laugh at the look on his face if this were funny at all.

It’s not funny. Whatever bravado you might’ve put on in front of Maria is fake and gone by the time you reach Tommy’s side. He annoyingly smells of cologne, somehow a charming like hell scent even in a post-apocalyptic world. 

“You’re staring,” is your opener, less annoyed than you intended and a little bit too breathless, but a truth all the same.

The asshole has the decency to look amused, eyes glinting, and that terrible mustache he’s acquired since he got here moves in a way that indicates he’s smiling and trying to hide it.

“Hello to you, too,” he says, and the roughness of his voice sends thrills of warmth down your belly. He both did and didn’t speak like this twenty years ago, a harsher edge to his tone that you credit to the terrible decades spent between then and now. But underneath it all there’s something so indescribably Tommy that leaves you incredibly out of your depth for this moment. 

“Hey, Miller,” you say with a roll of your eyes at his sarcasm, but the greeting comes out too soft, too honest. You feel like the knots of anxiety inside of you are about to snap from how tightly they are woven. “You’re staring. It’s freaking Maria out.”

“Sorry to Maria,” he says without sounding even merely apologetic, and your heckles rise so quickly you’re practically blindsided. It starts with a few cute quips and ends with him calling you to pick him up from the bar fight he’s lost this time, breath reeking of tequila. “You look good.”

He checks you out slowly, brown eyes full of intent and lacking subtlety. It feels like you’re facing a shooting battalion, waiting for them to deem you guilty. 

There’s nothing suggestive or mean about it. It’s almost kind– wistful in a way you don’t remember him being. You're just having a casual conversation, even if there’s nothing casual about this encounter.

“So do you,” you say for lack of anything else, his honesty catching you off guard. His eyes fly to your face and scrutinize you like he’s trying to make sure you mean it. Whatever conclusion he reaches makes his smile widen, even if just by a little. “Can’t say I’m not surprised, though. Thought you would’ve moved on from Jackson by now.”

He shrugs, turning back to stare at his empty glass, still angling his body toward you where he’s sitting on a worn-out stool. “You don’t find this a lot these days.”

“Civilization?”

“Community,” his eyes twinkle, and, really, Jesus Christ, what’s up with the lights in this place? The man looks like a live-action Disney prince, all combed hair and bright eyes. “Reminds me of home, almost. And, well.”

He doesn’t say it, and you’ve long stopped trying to figure out what he keeps to himself, but you know what you want it to be. You’re too familiar with the way he stops himself from saying stuff he means– especially if it's kind. He’s saving himself the bashful blush that comes after but you desperately wish to hear it anyway.

And, well. You’re here, too. 

He clears his throat when you only nod in response, silence stretching between you painfully. “Can I buy you a drink?”

It’s your turn to bite back your words. A firm, offended fuck no rests on your tongue, and swallowing it back down feels like gravel against your throat. 

He’s trying, you guess. 

You wordlessly sit on the stool next to him, careful not to touch him even on accident. Nodding at the waiter, you say, “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” intertwining your hands nervously and feeling somewhat victorious for getting anything out.

The waiter nods, tilting his head in question. “Non-alcoholic alright?”

You blink, once again losing the slight footing you’d found just now. You don’t turn towards Tommy, but you feel him shift in his seat, silent.

“I- yeah, sure.”

He nods and walks away, and you and Tommy sit in silence until he comes back to place a glass in front of you. You reach for it only to busy your hands but don’t drink from it. Anything you might take is only gonna come back up eventually out of sheer nervousness.

Tommy speaks after a beat. The anxiety in your belly keeps pushing further. “You could’ve ordered something else if you wanted. Maybe with a little more kick?”

“I don’t mind,” you promise dryly. “I, uh. I don’t drink, really. Like, at all.”

“Me either, if you can believe it,” it surprises you enough that your head turns to him in disbelief. Tommy’s already looking at you with an expression you can’t name but unsettles you all the same. He smiles at whatever he sees in your expression, gently amused. “I know. Joel made the same face when I told him I wanted to quit.”

The mention of the eldest Miller would bring you to your knees had you been standing up. “Joel. Is he…?”

You trail off but Tommy catches your meaning and his amusement dissolves.

“Alright,” Tommy confirms with a nod, taking a sip of his drink and running his tongue over his lips after, chasing the flavor. He looks suddenly stricken, but like he’s had enough of that emotion that his features have grown accustomed to it. “As much as he can be, I guess. We... lost Sarah the day all hell broke loose.”

Whatever relief had filled you is immediately displaced by nausea. Closing your eyes tightly doesn’t stop the tears from burning or the wave of grief from washing over you.

“Fuck,” you say through feelings that are now stopping you from breathing freely. “Fuck, Tommy, I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too,” he says, quiet and thoughtful and familiar. Fuck, so fucking familiar that it both soothes and shakes you even further. You feel him move again, and open your eyes to find his hand closer to yours on the counter than it was a second ago, not touching you but offering some weird sort of comfort nevertheless. “I know you loved her. She loved you, too. So much.”

Love is an understatement. You’d been the fourth person to ever hold her after her parents and her uncle, and she had you wrapped around your finger the second she held it tightly in her tiny, baby fist. You watched her first steps and her first words, went to her first soccer game and gossiped about her first crush. Nursed her first heartbreak when the men in her life were too out of depth to really help.

She’d been your family as much as Joel and Tommy had been. Any issue you had with Tommy had nothing to do with his niece or his brother. You’d hoped; stupidly, blindly, selfishly, that she’d made it even if this was never the world you wanted her to grow up in.

“God, all this time…” you cut yourself off and fight the urge to reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers. You’ve never missed him from this close. “I mean– it was always a long shot, but I thought. I hoped… If anyone…”

“I know,” he acknowledges, fingers twitching. He lets a moment pass before he says, tentatively– “I hoped for you, too.”

It would’ve hurt you less if he had insulted you. At least it would’ve been expected.

“Tommy–”

He calls your name as he finally puts his hand on top of yours, pleading. It’s too warm, sweaty, and firm on your skin, and you pull it off the counter swiftly before he can do anything stupid like squeeze it. You stand, distraught, and Tommy follows suit.

“Sweets, please–”

“Don’t,” you snap, harsher and louder than you mean to, earning yourself unwanted attention from a few curious eyes in the diner. Maria, on the other side of the room, is standing and eyeing you worriedly.

Her eyes say blink twice and I’ll kick his balls but even her support is too much. The world blurs around you and Tommy’s words from forever ago echo along with the blood pumping in your ears.

Don’t be like that, sweets. You can act all high and mighty next time, alright?

God, you can’t do this. You left a small town once to avoid this exact confrontation. Maybe it’s finally time to leave Jackson and this is God laughing in your face, screaming at you to go. 

“This isn’t what I came for,” you say to the universe, to Maria, to Tommy, to whoever’s listening and is kind enough to get you out of your misery. “Just– stop it with the staring, alright? You can have my drink if you want.”

Tommy looks desperate and more unkept than he had a minute ago. His hair’s a mess even if he hasn’t even reached out to touch it, and the twinkle in his eye is made out of urgency rather than charm. 

“Sweets–”

“Fuck off,” you bite, eyesight blurry with unshed tears of frustration. Tommy reels back a little. He wasn’t expecting any aggression from you. “I don’t want you to call me that.”

“I’ve always called you that,” Tommy’s brow furrows in honest confusion. 

“Yes,” you say, because to you it’s as clear as glass cutting into your skin. “Yeah, that’s the fucking problem, Tommy.”

You can’t bear to look at him. How dare he be hurt about this after what he did? After breaking your heart, using your feelings against you, and then holding a grudge for two decades when you decided you weren’t gonna let him do that shit to you?

You leave the diner with those words, ignoring both Tommy and Maria calling after you. Only one of them tries to follow but you’re not in the mood to entertain either of them, even if Maria has nothing but good intentions. 

God, those free pancakes weren’t even worth it.

You hide at home again.

You hate that this is what its come to. Even if Jackson has become your home you’re the one who has to hide away because Tommy decided to parade in without a fucking care in the world.

It’s weird, you spent years trying to live with your guilt over ending your friendship the way you did, even if it was for the better, but now that he’s back you feel nothing but anger.

Anger over him putting you in a position like that. Anger about his own anger and inability to see how badly you were trying to put his safety over your friendship. Anger about ending up here anyway: breaking yourself in two for his sake.

Some things never change, apparently.

The weekend comes and goes after your valiant escape from the diner and this time there’s nothing Maria can say or do to get you to go out again. She leaves some groceries at your doorstep because she’s a fantastic friend, but after blatantly refusing to answer her questions about Tommy she leaves you alone, wearing a disappointed mother-like frown.

You’re trying and failing to read a book one of your neighbors lent you when there’s a knock at the door. Believing it to be Maria you stay rooted in your spot on the couch, knowing she’ll give up eventually.

Except the knocking doesn’t stop. 

It doesn’t grow more insistent or lose its intensity, but rather keeps its steady rhythm; three knocks, a moment or two of silence, and then repeat. It gets on your nerves sooner than later and you’re jumping off the couch to make it stop, clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks that almost got you shot when you were bargaining for them half a decade ago. 

By the time you reach the door, you’re about to pull your hair out. Maria’s name is on your lips when you come face to face with Tommy, his fist still raised mid-knock.

“Don’t close the door,” he rushes to say, hand settling on the frame just in case you decide to do it anyway. “I just want to talk, please.”

“What the fuck,” you answer out of mere surprise, body coiled tight as you try to keep your body language to a minimum. Any sudden movements and he’ll invite himself in, and then you really won’t be able to keep the line drawn between your past and your life here. “There’s nothing to talk about, Tommy.”

“Like hell, there isn’t,” he says with enough annoyance that you blink, reeling back a little. Finally, a taste of the Tommy you were expecting, short and mean and careless with your heart.

It’s almost a relief– the sweet facade was too good to be true and you didn’t believe it for a second. “We were friends once, or did you forget? And now you can’t even be in the same room as me for more than twenty minutes. I’m sure we’ve both got more than enough to get off our chests, sweets.”

“Don’t–”

“Don’t call you that, yeah, sorry,” he mimics your outcry from the other night, but he shrinks a little at the reminder, shoulders to his ears. It’s an honest enough apology that you refrain another biting comment from leaving your mouth. “See, I’d get a chance to understand why you hate it so much if you just talked to me–”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Tommy,” you say, more honestly than you mean to. He keeps pulling the truth out of you despite your best tries to give him as little insight into yourself as possible.

It comes out tired– reminiscent of the resignation you used to pick up the phone with whenever Tommy called late at night. 

“And I’m not here for that,” the way he’s meeting your gaze leaves you unable to look away. You automatically preen under the warm, molten brown of his eyes. “But I– you owe me some kind of explanation–”

“Jesus,” you laugh, the sound loaded with incredulity. Just when you think you know what to expect from him… “That’s really fucking rich, Tom, really, so much for not fighting–”

“You’re the one who insists on making everything a godforsaken argument–”

“Listen to what you’re saying to me!” you exclaim a little too loudly, catching the attention of some of your neighbors and shit.

Motherfucking shit, you have no other choice but to grab Tommy’s stupid flannel in your fist and pull him inside your home away from prying eyes. You close the door behind you and turn back to him, fire at your tongue. “Fucking listen to yourself, Tommy! What the fuck would I owe you after everything–” 

“Listen, just because you don’t like me anymore–”

“I don’t like you?” you say incredulously, stopping mid-path to the kitchen and trying to come to terms with Tommy standing in your home looking like he’s meant to be here. “Tommy, I mean this with the most respect I am capable of mustering for you right now, but are you high?”

It’s the sort of thing you would’ve told him when you were younger, unapologetically calling him out on his shit in the most picturesque way possible. Tommy’s eyes brighten with something– not quite glee, not quite fury– and he leans closer to you almost automatically, muscle memory pulling at strained, rusted pieces of him that are now awakening in your presence. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, but there’s something resigned about it. He presses at his temples with his thumb and index finger, hand calloused and steady and too familiar for you not to ache for his touch. 

“You’re the one who dropped me like it was nothing,” he accuses. All the fight leaks out of him, leaving him curved inwards and small. “Like you weren’t my best fucking friend, like I– like I was always just– pulling you down, or some shit. Like you were just waiting for the right excuse to get rid of me.”

The words are a gut punch on their own but the way he says them– like he’s been thinking them to be true ever since you left– almost floors you completely. 

You say, “Tommy,” and you can’t help it. Some instinctive part inside of you has come back to life and doesn’t know anything other than his name. “Tommy, are you being serious right now?”

“Do you know why I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in over a decade?” he demands, looking straight into your fucking soul as he waves his hands around, trying to make a point. “Because after the world went to shit all I could think about was you. I thought of you, dead and mad at me, and I wanted to be wrong about that more than I wanted to drink.”

Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ.  

“You left me behind,” he says, an accusation, but it comes out too quiet for it to really be angry.  “And you just… moved on. Moved away. It felt like everything we went through meant nothing to you.”

You gape. The silence echoes in your ears along with the rapid beat of your heart and your blood rushing to your brain as you make sense of what he's saying.

“It meant everything to me,” you admit eventually, the weight of your decision still making your shoulders ache after all these years. “Jesus, Tommy, don’t you get it? That’s why I had to leave. It killed me to watch you fade away like that. And to think I was… aiding and abetting, somehow–”

Tommy shakes his head, stubborn. “The drinking wasn’t your fault–”

“You called me every fucking time,” you interrupt, voice hard. 

There’s little softness about the whole thing. He was your friend and you failed him by cutting him off and not being there when he needed you, but he wasn’t exactly pulling his weight. It was you on your own trying to maintain a friendship he wasn’t interested in saving.

“At one point I only heard from you when you needed me to bail you out. I got to know more about the sheriff on guard than about your own life. It wasn’t fucking fair, Tom. To either of us.”

Tommy doesn’t have an answer for that, arms crossed and glaring at your kitchen floor. His jaw quivers with emotion but his fluttering brows tell you it’s not anger. You know what he looks like when he’s trying not to cry. 

“I was a reminder of everything wrong with your life,” you continue, quieter, softened by his lack of retort and the absence of any fight. “I was stopping you from moving on by coming every time you called. As long as I came to get you you’d keep getting shitfaced. Driving drunk, getting into fights, hurting the people you loved. I couldn’t keep doing that to you.”

“Hurting you,” Tommy says, meeting your eye. There’s only a table between you now, but you’ve never felt further apart from him, and that’s saying something. “All that time, I was hurting you.”

You look away in embarrassment, even though there’s nothing about the statement that warrants it. “And Joel and Sarah. Your mom. But yeah. Yeah, you were hurting me.”

Tommy sighs. He’s looking every one of his years and reaching for one of your chairs, sitting like his body can’t hold him up anymore, his vices calling to charge their fees. 

You ask, curious, grief-stricken: “What happened to you, Tommy?”

“I don’t know,” he says, lost, the sound of his voice bordering on a break. He’s crying now, you realize, not shedding tears but trying to keep himself together and failing. “I don’t know, I was just so… angry. About everything. After I was discharged everywhere I saw, it was all red.”

You close your eyes at the mention of 22-year-old Tommy, some baby fat still clinging to his changing face that was hardened by his experience overseas. You’d gone with his family to pick him up from the airport, and he’d clung just as tightly to you as you did him when you ran to meet him on the tarmac. Your lungs had finally, finally filled with a full breath now that he was back home with you, but something was off and you knew it the second you saw him. 

His shoulders remained tense all throughout your embrace and the ride home. He was quiet during the welcome party in his mom’s house, and later you spent hours on his porch until the sun came back up again. Whatever it was, he hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

You don’t want to hear about all that, he’d promised, arms around his legs and cheek laying on his knee, gaze on you and far away at the same time. Trust me, sweets, I’d take this fucking heat and some Willie Nelson over army shit every time. 

“I don’t know when I realized drinking made it easier,” he goes on, and you wonder if he’s stuck in the same memory as you. “I could be as angry as I wanted to and still not feel a damn thing. And I didn’t care who paid the price of it. I didn’t care about anything.”

“That night, though,” he says, expression turning wary as if expecting you to make a run for it. You’ve tried to the last two times you came face to face with him, but you’re too tired now. You’ve picked too much at this scar to do anything other than let it bleed. “When you hung up on me, it all came rushing back. Everything I’d been tryin’ to avoid just crashed into me. Hurt a hell of a lot worse than the broken nose did.”

Your surprise bypasses your quiet grief. “You broke your nose?”

“It got broken,” he pulls a sour face that almost makes you smile. He rubs the crooked slope with his index finger, thoughtful. “Not that I didn’t deserve it, but I’m pretty sure Collins had had it against me since high school.”

You snort. You remember who he’s talking about– one of the officers you had to befriend in the hope he’d let Tommy go with a warning a few dozen times. He’d been a skinny kid with braces and a hero-like worship for the younger Miller before he graduated and signed up for the Academy. 

“I’m not angry anymore,” he admits, and you don’t realize how much that statement means to you until your next breath comes a little too easy, fills your chest the way air hasn’t for twenty whole years. “After the world ended, being mad about something like this felt…”

You try to help when he trails off. “Insignificant?”

Tommy’s smile is small but real, fond. “I was gonna say ‘stupid’, but yeah.” He nods at you, wistful. “Yeah, you’ve always been better at words than me. Better in every sense, really.”

You soften again against your will. “Tommy.”

“Sorry,” he shakes his head, wiping some stray tears neither of you realized had fallen. He’s not gentle about it, and you itch to reach for his hands and do it yourself, remind him that the world has punished you both for long enough to have him be so rough on himself.

“It’s different now. Being sober,” he continues, nervous. He’s tapping the table, bouncing his knee, biting his cheek– a checklist for anxious tics. “Trying to get through the end of the world without booze was shitty as hell.”

He continues, ashamed– “I, uh, I fell off the wagon more times than I’d like. Definitely more than I can excuse, even with everything that’s happened.”

Guilt swells inside you and you’re unable to dial it back. You left him. He was in trouble without a way out and your response to that was to leave him. 

Even if you’d been right to do it, even if you indirectly saved his life, you’ve always been honest with yourself about how much it haunted you. It’s a small, worthless comfort, how the right choices usually don't feel so. 

“You kept calling me,” it escapes your mind without your consent, but now that you’ve put it out there you can’t stop thinking about it. “I didn’t pick up, but you kept calling at first. Always after midnight, always drunk. Always in trouble.”

You meant what you said when he first came in, you don’t want to fight, but you’ve spared his feelings at your expense for too long now, and you need to know. You never thought you’d get the chance to ask, so you have to. Even if Tommy hangs his head like he’s preparing for the guillotine, you need to lay this to rest now. For your sake.

“I know,” he says, soft and regretful.

“And then you stopped,” you recall, the hurt so vivid it’s still present, still clutching at your heart after all this time. “When you realized I was of no use to you, that I wouldn’t come to bail you out–”

He says your name painfully.

“I never stopped liking you, Tommy,” you tell him, a secret to apparently no one but him. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. It wasn’t me who stopped caring.”

“Me either,” he says, suddenly firm, looking up at you with a gaze made of steel that doesn’t leave any room for argument. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as you lean against the counter, its edge jamming almost painfully against your back. “Please tell me you know that. I was a dick and I’m owning up to that but God, please tell me you know how much you mean to me.”

Mean, he says, your mind stuck like a broken record on the present tense as if you hadn’t told him you still loved him just a moment ago. Still, still, still. 

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, literally having been rendered speechless. Tommy’s expression shatters.

“Sweets,” it’s a small, tender thing, but he corrects himself immediately even if you don’t complain this time. You’re too stricken by the turns of this conversation to do anything about it. He says your name and you pretend it doesn’t kill you, laughing to himself with every loaded emotion except humor. “God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I fucked everything up, didn’t I?”

Your answer gets stuck in your throat. You don’t like any of the possibilities, saying either yes or no would be a lie. There are no absolutes in this, nothing crystal clear about this thing between you.

He reads your hesitation and watches you sit opposite to him like he’s exchanging words with a haunting, distrusting and hopeful all the same. 

“We were– we were good, though,” he says, like a question, voice dry. He sounds so different from the last time he asked something of you, and the dichotomy is a little too much for you to handle. “Weren’t we? For a while there, before we– I… we were good, right?”

You do the unimaginable and reach out your arm, palm up. Tommy looks at it and you back and forth, like he expects you to laugh in his face, but eventually he meets you halfway and intertwines your fingers together.

Your tears clog your throat. There are so many things you wish had happened differently. “Yeah, Tom,” you say, benevolent. “We were really good.”

His smile is sad and fleeting but his hand is tight around yours. You sit in silence on your kitchen table as the light drains from the sky, but neither of you make a move to leave or turn on the light.

Your life goes on. Surprisingly, with Tommy in it. 

It’s an adjustment, for sure. After your heart-to-heart, he promises he’ll stick around in Jackson indefinitely, but it’s still a shock every time he comes by to pick you up for lunch. With his hands behind his back and bouncing nervously on his tippy toes, he looks like he’s about to ask your mom if you can come out to play after you finish your homework. 

It freaks you out. The first time he walks you home after an awkward, stilted late morning at the diner your mind bombards you with worse-case scenarios:

Tommy leaving town without telling you, Tommy relapsing after two consecutive hours in your company, Tommy avoiding you around town for the rest of your days as if you hadn’t talked things out at all. 

But he comes back. Two days later and then the week after that and so on. Both your social skills slowly but surely begin to defrost and before you know it, you’re seeing each other almost daily for periods of time too long for mere acquaintances. 

You’re friends again. Still, he insists as he puts his jacket around your shoulders because a fifteen-minute walk before dinner became a three-hour talk about your years apart. We’re friends, still. I missed you every second I wasn’t with you whether I realized it or not. You were what was missing, sweets. 

Today, Tommy stares at you from the other side of the room, gaze clever and unashamed, and something inside you is filled to the brim, satisfied and content.

“He’s looking at you again.”

“Let him,” you say to Maria through the rim of your glass. 

She rolls her eyes in good nature and locks her arm around yours. Thus begins the slow walk around the room that inevitably ends, as everything in your life seems to, at Tommy’s side. 

She’d been the one who told you to invite him. It was her party, her choice, a private but grander-than-usual affair under the excuse that not many folks get to turn 40 these days. You knew Tommy knew about it because everyone in town did, but he didn’t talk about it until you brought it up yourself after a night together.

Sunlight had been streaming gently through the curtains that swayed with the spring air coming through the window. You’d blindly picked up the closest garment of clothing you found on the floor before you went down to make breakfast.

Tommy had taken one look at you in his shirt and intercepted your path before you could leave the bedroom, hand pulling you back into bed and, consequentially, into his lap.

He’d smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and it was like the years vanished between you. You were young again and at the receiving end of Tommy Miller’s honest, boyish charm. Mornin', sweets.

Except you never had this before. Getting Tommy back as a best friend had been one thing, but venturing into this new chapter meant jumping in blind with only his hand in yours to guide you. 

He kissed you for the first time– since last time, of course– one early morning after patrol. He settled into the routine of it quite nicely, and he became your partner for it without complaints from, anyone, really. 

Stop me if you don’t want to, he’d said, close enough that his eyes were turning from side to side to stare into yours, half-lidded. It was such a callback to the last time that you had to blink several times just to check it wasn’t a dream. But when he finally cut the distance between you you realized it couldn’t be– your dreams never ended like this. 

Your dreams ended, but this didn’t. Tommy cupped your head tenderly yet with an intensity that hadn’t been there three decades ago. He licked into your mouth the second you shuddered and clung to the back of his jean jacket, heart hammering inside your chest. 

He’d kept his eyes tightly closed after you pulled away, out of breath and high on giddiness, his hands protecting your face from the biting, winter wind. 

You good in there, handsome?

Don’t wanna find out you aren’t real. I’ve dreamt about this, I’ll have you know. 

You started the kiss then just for that, the thought of Tommy yearning after you like you did him during your time apart driving you a little too crazy. 

So it’d been so easy, in the end, to let things progress the way you hadn’t had a chance to after high school. Within the year he was waking up at your place most mornings, coming over for dinner, and sinking into you when you wrapped your arms around him from behind, your temple against his back. 

What does a guy gotta do to get you to come home early tonight?

You know you’re invited, right? You can come with me instead of moping around. Maria said so and everything.

I don’t know. I don’t think she likes me that much still–

Bullshit–

–and I wouldn’t wanna embarrass myself askin’ for water all night. He’d rubbed your back tenderly, slowly, up and down strokes while you tangled a strand of his hair around your finger, meaningless touches full of meanings. You go have fun, baby, alright? I’ll stick around for the night and see you after. 

You understood and trusted him fully about it, of course. But you still couldn’t help yourself and dialed your home number during the party, hoping to catch him before he fell asleep waiting for you. 

You can swing by if you want, you said into the phone, smiling at the sound of Tommy’s voice through the receiver and feeling a little too hot under the collar. Party’s practically over.

Am I gonna be peer pressure’d into party activities? Or do they know about my… situation?

It was a joke, but you could recognize the undertones of tension from miles away.

Yeah, honey, they know you’re sober, you soothed. I mean it, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, alright? But if you change your mind I’ve got some orange juice with your name on it. And Jamie’s kids’, but still. We’d be glad to see your face.

And so here you are. Maria giving you off to Tommy like one would deliver a bride at a wedding, stepping into his open arms and feeling something settle inside of you that’s been restless for over half your life. This love, this domesticity, you never thought you’d get to experience it, let alone with Tommy. 

You never thought you’d ever be this happy.

“I’m watching you, Miller,” Maria says fake menacingly as she points two fingers to her eyes and then at Tommy as a warning. “Both of you, hands above the waist, please. Keep it PG for the kiddos, would you?”

You wave her away with a loud, “Thanks, Maria. Bye, Maria,” that has her cackling with laughter all the way to her next conversation.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tommy jokes, and any undernotes of nervousness left are washed away when you glue yourself to him, your sides touching. “You enjoyin’ yourself, sweetheart?”

You hum an affirmative, leaning your head on his shoulder. “More now that you’re here.”

Tommy grins down at you. “Aren’t you a charmer?”

 You smile back slyly. “I learned from the best. You alright?”

The sigh he lets out is big but honest, looking around the room with curiosity rather than like a caged animal looking for ways out. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Everyone’s actually really nice.”

“Told you,” you quip.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always right,” he rolls his eyes in good nature, shifting so he’s got his arm wrapped around you. “Last time we were at a party together I had to be the jealous boyfriend.”

“I remember,” you do, Tommy twenty-five years younger with his arm around you just like this, a tad more possessive. It's been getting progressively easier to talk about the past and not be overwhelmed by it, and you're glad. It wasn't all bad. “Gotta be honest, honey, I like the real thing a whole lot better.”

You’d never seen him smile so much when you were younger. These days it’s weird to find him without his lips turned upward, like right now when he presses his smiling mouth to your temple. “That makes two of us.”

You fall into a lull of silence, the party going on around you, disturbed only by your content hum. Tommy nudges his nose against your temple, asking quietly. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” you murmur shyly, daring yourself to meet Tommy’s eyes even if there’s no judgment in his gaze, only warmth. You reach for the hand on your shoulder and he intertwines your fingers immediately, his hand warm and a little sweaty. “Just… it feels like I’ve been waiting for this forever.”

“This?”

“For you,” you shrug, squeezing his hand. “To come home. I didn’t think there was even a home to come back to, let alone a chance that we would. And now we’re here.”

He has to kiss you for that, rearranging your positions so he can cup your face in his hands and ignore Maria’s advice from earlier. He sneaks in a little tongue and kisses you with such force you have to hold onto him when you feel your knees go weak. 

You break apart when breathing becomes imminent, and he exhales against your mouth, freckled face flushed and pleased. “Now we’re here.”

He draws you back into his embrace and talks nonsense as he draws mindless shapes against your back. About what he did today and what he plans on cooking for dinner tomorrow after patrol as long as he finds the right ingredients. 

It’s so incredibly mundane that you can hardly believe it, but time ticks by and Tommy stays by your side, solid and real. He sips on his orange juice and life keeps on happening, your best friend lodged back into place after years and years of flying adrift. 

it's here and it's yours!!!!

thank you all for your patience! i've been so busy with college lately but i was adamant to get this one out before august ended and here we are! i hope y'all like it, i love writing for tlou and tommy!

idk when i'll be able to post next, BUT! commissions are open right now for anyone who's interested, info about it here!

thank you so much for reading and any kind words you might have for me <3

tags: @spideysimpossiblegirl

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 9c

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Elrohir asks if Maglor ever wandered far enough south to get completely clear of Sauron's shadow.

Celegorm asks if he would have noticed if he did.

Maglor says yes, as a matter of fact, he did travel that far a few times and did notice.

In fact, he's been farther south than the Númenóreans ever got! Although it was a little hard to tell, since stories of the wicked Westerlings spread south, too.

…Then they have to explain 'Númenóreans (derogatory)' to the Hirnedhrim.

"Have you not heard of this at all? I thought the Dunlendings were still holding grudges about it?"

"Not that anyone told us about."

Risyind mentions that apparently Pelndoru either wasn't paying enough attention to hear about the Númenóreans or else it decided to scrub them from history after the Involution. She's guessing the first one.

(If she didn't have more important things to worry about Sharlinnu would definitely be cranky about the Involution.)

****

Gimli points out they should probably do a demonstration with the Wizard's Clay before it comes time to use it.

…Although the horses wouldn't be very happy about it. Or the oxen. Or Celeborn.

Maglor could probably keep it from bothering the oxen and horses? It's not easy when he doesn't know beforehand what he needs to neutralize…

Celeborn objects to blowing up anything in the Vales of Anduin regardless of who can hear it — though he can see the point about needing a demonstration. Wait until they're north of the mountains?

Okay, but at that point Maglor will also need to keep it from attracting cold-drakes.

…Actually no one knows whether cold-drakes would come towards the sounds of explosions.

****

Over the course of several days—

Ah, geese flying north.

They're doing a lot of landing and taking off for migrators.

…They really should have overtaken us by now.

Are we being tailed by geese?

Gimli was bitten by a goose once.

That's nothing, a couple of the goblin-men of Dunland got mauled by geese, they eventually swore off trying to keep them.

…None of the elves have ever been attacked by geese.

"It's about respecting them."

…Those are… kind of large for geese, actually, aren't they?

Ohhhhhh, those are the Geese of Manwë!

Everyone stops to look at Glorfindel like he's lost his mind.

The what now.

The Geese of Manwë. Like the Eagles of Manwë, but geese.

…

We didn't see them in Eldamar in the Time of the Trees because there weren't a lot of natural bodies of water — apart from the Sea — but once we got rivers in—

What.

—No, one thing at a time, geese.

(Or should it be Geese?)

Glorfindel isn't sure what they want him to say. They're like Eagles, but geese. They aren't as suited to killing things as the Eagles. Their homes are less remote, so you see them more often, in the West. Some of them enter poetry competitions? They're supposed to be banned from both Yavanna's gardens and Aulë's workshops, but, uh, that hasn't really stuck.

"None of that explains why they're following us."

"I… expect they're meant to be helping us?" Glorfindel says. "I'm not sure how, but it must be a good sign?"

"I would have thought Eagles would be more help," Turgon says. "Although I suppose they could arrive later."

Has this flock been living somewhere in Middle-earth all this time? Who knows!

"Those aren't all geese," Legolas says suddenly. "There are two swans. Grey, but swans."

Celegorm immediately turns around and tries to look himself, even though it is a sunny day and he was uncomfortable even before looking at the sky. He is unable to confirm or dispute Legolas's observation.

Several others can confirm it, though.

…Huh. Weird.

…Not really much weirder than the 'there are Geese of Manwë' baseline, though.

****

(That evening after speaking to the party Arwen decides to take a closer look at these 'Geese of Manwë' and mystery swans. She ends up dropping the Orthanc-stone on her foot. It fractures a toe. Arwen swears Aragorn to secrecy.)

****

They're able to keep on the river a long ways, with all the oxen walking and the barges lightly loaded — even past the point where the Anduin is born in the confluence of two smaller rivers. They pick the tributary coming down from the Misty Mountains, since the one from the Grey Mountains splits into two streams halfway there.

It gets un-navigable eventually, but Celeborn doesn't think it's more than a day or two before they would have had to cut north away from the river anyway.

They unload the wagons from the barges, and move the supplies to the wagons. As for the barges themselves — well, they aren't anticipating any cargo on the way back, but it would still make things easier, and they should at least try to return the barges to Arwen. They drag the barges on shore and turn them over, protecting them as much as they can out in the open.

They reorganize the oxen — eight wagons rather than four barges — and continue on.

****

At this point they can all drive the wagons. No one is particularly eager to. (The suspension is not great.) They trade off often.

Celegorm, Turgon, and Sharlinnu have to pick between walking in the daylight, riding in the wagons, or walking around holding a piece of canvas over their heads as a sunshield.

Caution rises as they approach the Gap of Gundabad — not that they weren't alert before, but there hadn't been any expectation of threat.

Gimli grumbles about such a holy place being profaned.

Khitwê points out that Pelnûru scholars' best guess at the former location of Kuynennu — Cuiviénen — is in Dead Empire territory, and even the geography isn't there anymore, so really the dwarves are still ahead!

Elladan: "I thought no one knew where Cuiviénen used to be!"

Khitwê: "They don't know for sure, but there were people who knew how to get to Kuynennu from Pelndoru and back, so even after everything got torn up they could get approximately there…"

Of course they couldn't investigate after the White Empire started up.

Maglor: "…So if Mount Gundabad is full of orcs—"

(Celegorm: "Not that many orcs—")

Maglor, ignoring the interruption: "—And what's left of Cuiviénen has an entire human empire squatting in it… does anyone know what happened to Hildorien?"

No. In fact, there is some skepticism on the Hildorien story generally.

Before they can get into that, Zena asks what exactly they're talking about — it turns out no one has told the Hirnedhrim about the various awakenings. So they have to go over that.

The Hirnedhrim are — not skeptical, exactly, but they have questions. There are things you have to be taught, that you can't just conjure out of nowhere. What was the difference in wisdom between these magically-awakening adults and someone who lived alone in a pit their entire life finally getting out? How did the difference get there?

Zena: "And there must have been a difference, because an entire village full of just-retrieved Usazilas would have… had problems."

Zuste: "It took over a hundred years for the bite-scars to fade."

…

What?

Maglor: "I would argue that being kept in a pit and treated like an animal by the only people you have ever met teaches its own breed of wisdom which is of less than no use in most other situations."

Zena agrees he may be on to something there, but still doesn't think that's sufficient.

Elrohir knows he is not going to like the answer and that possibly he just shouldn't ask, but: "I understand that the Men of Dunland had no love for you, but… why a pit?"

Zena: "They thought it would keep the Fair Orc away from their women if his child was still there. That was why others of our sisters and brothers were tolerated through infancy, at least. These people thought they had found a way to do that which they liked better than keeping an abomination in the house."

Zuste: "They boasted of it. Had been boasting for years before we found out."

Zuste: "We burned that steading to the ground."

She does not say what became of the inhabitants other than Usazila.

Celegorm: nodding approvingly

Turgon: glaring at Celegorm for this improper moral feedback

Risyind: "Well anyway, the tradition of the People of the Pearls is that humans lived underwater until drawn out into the air by the light of the Sun."

Zena: "Interesting!"

Risyind: "My understanding is none of the Pelnûru have ever felt there are any grounds to challenge them on it, since it's not like we know exactly where Men awakened."

Legolas: "No one ever pointed out that Men can't breathe water?"

Risyind: "They are fully aware of that themselves. The stories don't explain anything, but the tradition for a long time was that before the Sun, Men were more like porpoises. More recently, though, there were some philosophers who argued that the stories specifically say drawn to the air by the Sun, and porpoises already have to visit the air regularly, so Men must have been more like some other sort of fish, or maybe octopuses."

Legolas: "Ah, that makes sense."

(Have never heard of an octopus: Legolas, Zuste, Zena, Dyn. Also Whiterot.)

Risyind: "Maybe, but there was some heated discussion. We heard all about it because some of them had to leave town for a while and came to Pelndoru."

Gimli: that doesn't sound right "…The octopuses…?"

(Has never seen an octopus, but has read about them in books written by Dwarves who had also never seen one: Gimli.)

Anyway that discussion gets everyone thoroughly sidetracked, thank you Risyind.

(Have seen one or more octopuses in the course of living by the Sea and/or traveling by ship and/or knowing Círdan: Khitwê, Risyind, Elrohir, Elladan, Sharlinnu, Glorfindel, Maglor.)

(Has seen an octopus after his cousin absolutely insisted he come to Alqualondë and get on a boat and see this new, fascinating creature he just found out about: Turgon.)

(Has seen octopuses and been disappointed when Oromë said he couldn't teach him to understand them: Celegorm.)

(Has seen one or more octopuses in the course of knowing Círdan, but only after spending several centuries thinking Angrod made them up, and unfortunately Círdan told the twins about this: Celeborn.)

(Have eaten octopus: Sharlinnu, Khitwê, not Risyind because she doesn't care what anyone else says, it doesn't look like something you're supposed to eat, shut up Khitwê. Also Maglor, but he doesn't want to talk about it.)

****

Whiterot joins them once they're properly in the Gap of Gundabad. (She is greeted with questions on whether she knows what an octopus is. She does not.)

She goes over the state of things in Gundabad. Most relevantly, no one is likely to attack them. Whiterot does have some healing minor injuries from scuffles, but just usual day-to-day stuff. There's still no leader and no plans to police the gap. They're good.

(Also, some orcs did take Bellow's advice and took off to look for good places to hole up in the Mountains of Angmar, but that's not pertinent at the moment.)

****

They're almost out of the Gap of Gundabad when disaster strikes. Sort of.

Dyn asks Gimli about the case with the three strands of hair, and he explains.

Maglor looks at Celegorm. Celegorm looks at Maglor.

They don't say anything.

—So here is the thing, about the hair.

Asking someone for some of their hair for use in an art or craft project — either directly or as a reference — was not unknown. But it wasn't the sort of thing you'd be soliciting strangers in the street for, either; it was a personal request for a favor and belonged in a personal relationship. Artanis refused the first request because she wasn't inclined to grant Fëanáro any favors, and also she felt Fëanáro held himself too far aloof from the grandchildren of Indis to presume a personal relationship.

That last part was difficult to dispute.

So, Fëanáro had assumed his status as an elder kinsman and as a matchless craftsman would stand in for a personal relationship; Artanis said it didn't. Kind of embarrassing for Fëanáro and awkward all around, but not inappropriate.

There was some familial huffing about how if Artanis didn't respect Fëanáro enough for this maybe her family weren't really Noldor. That sort of thing.

But asking a second time made it weird, even with the clarification that he wished to "study the hair's unique appearance". Artanis made it even clearer that she was not interested in granting a favor to someone who "pretended my family did not exist until he thought I might provide an interesting specimen".

Asking a third time—

Asking a third time was inappropriate. The Arafinwëans all left Tirion for Alqualondë, and Artanis didn't come back for a Tree-year. Finwë didn't reprimand Fëanor, but he did offer to ask Ingwë and Olwë for hair strands himself which Fëanor could study, with the implication that Fëanor could therefore stop making such requests of people who found it upsetting. Nerdanel told Fëanor there were questions on which he needed to accept 'no'.

And Maitimo, Makalaurë, and Tyelkormo, who all had social circles which reached outside Fëanor's most devoted followers, had to deal with a number of friends and acquaintances either attempting to delicately ask "hey wtf is up with your father and hair" or refraining from asking despite really wanting to. And when someone did ask, loyalty required trying to justify Fëanor even though they knew he'd pushed too much.

It was not enjoyable. The last thing they want to do here is deal with someone explaining the whole debacle to Legolas, Gimli, Khitwê, Risyind, Sharlinnu, Whiterot, the Hirnedhrim, and possibly Elladan and Elrohir — and, actually, they aren't 100% sure Celeborn knows already. Just. No.

They say nothing. Elladan and Elrohir are intensely relieved.

(Glorfindel is secretly a little disappointed.)

[queentheweeb]

Male Ronal X Fem Metkayina Reader Final

Part 1, Part 2

You indulged yourself with Ron'ek the night before because if he was lying, at least you enjoyed yourself with him, and you could always fight him or avoid him. You wondered what happened with Yira'vo and Ranari. You hoped they got together or something; they would make a really good couple and would have beautiful children. When you left the Marui, you had a weird feeling in your stomach but ignored it as you made your way to breakfast; breakfast with the clan didn't always happen, but when organized by the Olo'eyktan, it did. You walked along the beach and kept getting looks which you found weird but ignored. If they were going to be weird, you would ignore everyone. You didn't need that this early. 

"Who does she think she is, going after the Olo'eyktan." You picked up on what they said, which meant Toni'va told everyone and anyone who would listen to her lies. Great. Fantastic.

"As if he would go after someone like her." You weren't sure about that, especially since his head was between your legs as an apology. You liked that apology. You had to keep a smirk from playing on your lips but lost when Yira came running at you and took a leap of faith, knowing you would catch her. 

"MA Y/N, I HAVE GREAT THINGS TO TELL YOU! WONDERFUL EVENTS!" She wrapped her arms and legs tightly around you like she always does and had her mouth by your ear to whisper whatever she needed to tell you. Before she could speak, you turned your head, covering your mouth to whisper near her ear.

"Does it have to do with Ranari?" She gasped and nodded rapidly before explaining in detail what had happened and how they had both enjoyed themselves and ended up bonding. 

"NO WAY THAT HAPPENED!" You almost threw her if not for her tight grip on you, expecting the excited attempted toss. You didn't care who was watching as you walked slowly to the breakfast place on the inland part of the beach so the few clan members couldn't eavesdrop.  

"Yes, it did! We saw what happened with you and Toni'va and how Ron'ek took you away..." She trailed off, giving you a knowing smirk, and you couldn't hide the blush, and your tail wagged in embarrassment when she yelled.

"YES! YES! I KNEW IT! HE WAS RIGHT! I WAS RIGHT!" You had to shush her despite the giggling, and you both took a tumble from giggling so much. She finally let you go as you both stood up, and she grabbed your hands, jumping up and down in place, and you couldn't help the smile. "Tell me! Tell me now!" You were about to but were interrupted.

"Tell you what?" You both turned to see Ranari there, grinning from ear to ear. Oh, this was perfect. You let go of Yira, and Ranari wasted no time grabbing her by the waist and kissing her cheek, which had you jumping up and down and clapping your hands in excitement.

"Please, kiss her in front of Ivete. Ivete has a crush on you and thought you would choose her and treat Yira mean. Please, for the love of Eywa, kiss Yira in front of that whore." Yira started slapping your arm in excitement and laughing. 

"You're so evil; that's why I love you, Tsumke!" She hugged you tightly and turned back to face Ranari, who was watching the two of you with a content smile. The straggling clan members were the parents and elders who smiled at the three of you. "Her and Ron'ek had their own fun last night as well." You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't stop smiling. Ranari pulled you in for a tight hug and rubbed your back.

"I'm so happy. He's liked you for so long but was always too nervous to approach you. I'm glad you finally have each other. Is he going to announce it during breakfast?" You were stunned that he liked you, and if his best friend confirms it...

"Now I know you are lying." You jumped and turned around to see Toni'va with her friends. Her nose was still swollen, and you smirked. "It's a shame that you would lie to her, knowing I am the one he wants. I am to be Tsahik, and I am to be his mate, and once we bond under the eyes of Eywa, I'll be sure to banish you." She said it so matter of factly that you both stared at each other tensely and laughed in her face. She looked offended and hissed at you, but you didn't hiss back.

"We will see about that, Toni'va, or did you forget that the only ones who can make that decision are Olo'eyktans, and he will not banish me." She clenched her fist and swung at you, but you caught it, held it, and leaned forward to get in her face. "Temper, temper, my sweet. It is not befitting of you." You pulled back and shoved her to get space between the two of you, and you stepped back to be beside Ranari and Yari. She hissed at you again and stomped away to breakfast, and you waited until she was out of sight for the three of you to start walking. 

"She's going to be so disappointed." You nodded.

"Of course she is; she's going to cry, she's going to hiss and scream at me, try to fight me, but that is her fault for believing lies instead of going to the source and finding the truth." Nothing else was said as you slowed down, allowing them to make an entrance together, and you stood outside listening to the gasps and whispers, followed by hurrying footsteps. You stepped aside just in time to avoid a crying Ivete; you only felt slightly bad for her because she never was crazy for him, but you can't help how someone feels. You took a breath and entered, half the conversation stopping, and you glared at the half under Toni'va's thumb. How stupid and naive. 

"Look who decided to show up." You sighed and were going to continue walking but paused at the call of your name. You looked up to see Ron'ek grinning ear to ear and staring at you.

"Come here, ma Y/N." Uproar. You expected the shrill shriek from Toni'va as you smiled and made your way to Ron'ek. You waved at your gawking parents and Ron'eks parents, who were just as stunned. Once you were in his vicinity, he pulled you down to sit next to him, and he pecked you on the lips, making you grin ear to ear at him. He actually did it. 

"IT'S HER! I LOST TO HER!? WHY?" Ron'ek looked up at the people for the first time and locked eyes with a fuming Toni'va, who had tears in her eyes. 

"You could never compete where you don't compare." He ate some breakfast, never breaking eye contact with her. "I did not choose you; I never will. I do not know why you and everyone else here thought I would. The one I want as my mate and Tsahik is Y/N. Not you, Toni'va." It was silent as tears rolled down her face, and she hissed angrily, threw her food, and disappeared, some of her friends following behind her. The rest of the clan stayed, silently watching everything unfold. 

"Wow." You were in awe that he did it; he put her and the rest of the clan in their place. This was it; he really chose you. He cleared his throat to garner everyone's attention. You met Yira's eye to see she was smiling hard enough to split her face open, with Ranari mimicking her. 

"Y/N will be my mate and my Tsahik. Whoever does not like it or approve of it must get over it. I have chosen her, and she has chosen me. We will begin preparations for the ceremony." And that was it. He had spoken, cleared the air, and made it known you were his and his only. This was all surreal, and you would have to thank Eywa for blessing you. He turned, this time facing you, and leaned down, smiling softly to whisper in your ear.

"Oel ngati kameie, nga yawne lu oer ma Tsahik." You were shocked, meeting his eyes to notice his pupils had grown in size the longer he stared at you. He loved you, and he saw you. As you smiled back at him, you knew your eyes looked the same.

"Oel ngati kameie, nga yawne lu oer ma Olo'eyktan."

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I know it was short, but this was so cute, fluffy, and sweet. I made myself giggle and swing my feet. Let me know what you think!

[sonicasura]

I got another insane idea.

Trollhunters but it's a race to fix the Amulet of Daylight.

When Jim picks up the amulet, something... unnatural occurs. Magic surges uncontrollably through it before the item explodes. Shards of the amulet fly across Arcadia while one piece plunges into Jim's heart.

He falls unconscious and is taken to the hospital as the 'Daylight Fragment' in his chest begins to integrate itself. Meanwhile panic has spread across Trollmarket upon hearing about the Amulet's destruction. Without the Trollhunter, who will protect them from Gunmar's tyranny?

Vendel decides to form a group who shall collect the Daylight Fragments and rebuild the Amulet of Daylight! They already know where the first piece is... Although Jim ain't doing too hot even before the hunt begins.

The Daylight Fragment began altering his body from the inside as the boy wasn't meant to channel magic. Jim had multiple seizures and was put into ICU ward while the shard tries to keep the young man alive. It is only when night fell did shit really hit the fan.

The hospital's power goes out as the Daylight Fragment let looses a large magical surge. Barbara and Toby rush over to Jim's room only to find it a wreck with the boy shuddering in the corner. He could barely mutter out 'Run' before he transforms into a full blown troll.

(This isn't Beast Jim if you are wondering. His form here is gonna be a more natural progression from canon Troll Jim. Larger like 18 ft but with an Olympic runner's build, fur covering his entire back, sides, front legs, front arms then down newly grown long tail, and maybe an extra pair of arms.)

What better way to traumatize your loved ones than by chasing them down as an stony beast suffering from magic overload? He catches Barbara but their strong bond allows Jim come to his senses before he could hurt her. A sweet moment that is ruined by Draal whose quick to misinterpret the situation upon arrival.

Both begin to fight with Jim at a clear disadvantage in this new form until Blinky and AAARRRGGHH intervene. They realize their task has become harder as the Daylight Fragment has fused into the boy's body thus any removal would be lethal. Not to mention two humans now know about their existence with one being the human now troll's mother.

In short, four trolls and two humans have to work together to gather the Daylight Fragments before Gunmar's forces do. Failure means not only will nothing be able to stop the Gumm-Gumm King but Jim will never become human again. Hopefully they can put aside their differences and work together...right?

What To Expect:

Jim isn't having a fun time. He's a tired bean who wants to sleep in his bed without breaking nor trying to eat it. Troll instincts tend to absolutely sucks.

Toby being an amazing best friend and wingman for his buddy. Someone has to be there for him so the big guy doesn't eat homework or chase stray cats. Plus Jim needs hugs and HE WILL GET THEM.

Barbara is ready to beat up everyone who dares to try hurting her son. The trolls are absolutely scared of the doctor. Especially when she gets out the broom or finds a sword.

Draal and Blinky are absolute disasters while AAARRRGGHH is the only one with some common sense. At this point someone needs to make troll proof leashes cause the Krubera needs to keep both from doing something stupid. Barbara will be happy to oblige.

Everyone, including the villains, are so fucking confused. Why is there magic metal shards everywhere? Strickler wondering what happened to Young Atlas and why does Barbara have a barb wire broom? Everyone is in for one hell of a chaotic wild ride.

If anyone wants to try their own hand at such an idea then go ahead! Like to see what you guys can make hence this being a prompt! Until next time folks, I'll see you back in Arcadia! For now enjoy the song that this partly stems from Control by Halsey.

[inkedkoi]

Connections: Part Two

Continuation of "Hold On To “What If”: Overanalyzing and Rewriting Sonic Prime" essay

[Once Again, spoilers for Sonic Prime, all media here belong to their respective creators.]

✨//🌻//✨

Transcript:

Sonic: "Nine, you came!" Nine: "When this is over, I'm going home and never looking back. Whether I go it alone is entirely up to you."

[S1 EP6]

The hesitation from earlier ultimately changed Nine's final decision. He risked himself coming back, just for Sonic.

💬 Why?

Because Sonic saved him once before, gave him hope & motivation to start a new life. The risk was worth it, for their newfound friendship. As much as Nine tries to deny it, he's truly warming up to Sonic. Even if he is letting Sonic make his own choice, Nine was hoping he would at least consider it.

He, unfortunately, got captured by the Council, and while it was the last position he wanted to be in, he worked the inside. Not only to gather more information but to protect Sonic if they ever threaten to hurt him. Is he risking his life? Yes, but he's willing to do it for Sonic. He knows well enough that Sonic would come back for him but he also needs to stall the Council enough to not go after him.

Transcript:

Nine: "...we need [Sonic] alive."

[S1 EP8]

[S1 EP7]

Meanwhile, after the battle with the Council, Sonic tried to look for Nine, worried that he might've gone to the Grim by himself. Except he accidentally teleported to another world before he knew what happened to Nine.

Transcript:

Sonic: "I better find him before he portals out of here again."

[S1 EP7]

Speaking of other worlds, Nine isn't the only one Sonic confuses for the OG cast. When he first arrived in Boscage Maze and met Thorn, he believed that somewhere deep within Thorn, Amy was there. He technically already has with the New Yoke look-alike, Rusty, commenting how she suddenly became so "heartless". But then sees Thorn with much hostility.

Transcript:

Sonic: "Amy has to be in there."

[S1 EP5]

Then, when he first visited No Place, he mistakes Dread for the OG Knuckles.

Transcript:

Sonic: "The Dread is... Knuckles?" [...] Sonic: "Definitely not the Knuckles I know." [...] Sonic: "You're officially my favorite Knuckles ever."

[S1 EP7]

It’s not Knuckles, it’s Dread. Sure, he may have the same trait as Knuckles (guarding a gem they vow to protect), but Dread is the one who manipulates anyone who dares to get in his way and becomes a selfish coward, all for the Shard. Knuckles protects the Master Emerald because it is his responsibility, as the one last Echidna, the last one of his tribe. He doesn’t have a choice, but he isn’t against it either. (Don’t want to bring in the game material into this but...) in frontiers, he does feel a bit of loss of what happened to his people, and perhaps in the scenario where the Master Emerald has been taken, he would lose the only thing that was deeply connected to his tribe. The other artifacts on Angel Island would be there, but the Emerald is the one thing of value worth protecting.

[S2 EP1]

I could go on and on, but the point is that Sonic is confusing the look-alikes for their OG counterparts. The one who knew the truth was Shadow. When Sonic suggested to Shadow that they could bring in Nine to help rebuild the Prism, Shadow denied it. Reasonably, Shadow couldn't be along with Sonic, entering the gateways like he does. All he did manage to get were glimpses. I'll talk about it more later on about his side of things but Shadow already understood that these look-alikes were practically strangers and shouldn't assume how they would act. Therefore, they shouldn't blindly trust them.

Transcript:

Shadow: "[Nine] can't be trusted." Sonic: "What are you talking about? Of course he can. He's just like Tails... He's just a little angsty, that's all." Shadow: "No. He's not Tails, he's Nine. And they're not your real friends." Sonic: "Dude, he's real. This is his reality."

[S2 EP1]

When Shadow meant "not your real friends", he didn't exactly mean that they aren't real. From his POV, the only "look-alikes" he encountered himself were the ghosts of the OG casts, mere illusions really. He may not know how the look-alikes from the other worlds were, but what he does know that none of them were OG cast. Again, they can't trust them. Sonic took it the wrong way, defending NIne on his behalf. While it is caring, he should've took it as a warning.

Transcript:

Shadow: "I don't think [Nine] wants the same thing we do."

[S2 EP7]

[S2 EP6]

Just as it happened, Nine showed he was capable in handing on his own, he only needed to work from the inside. Sonic did his part in retrieving the Shards and rescuing Nine on the way. When they reunited, Nine apologized to Sonic for accidentally giving the idea to the Council to create Chaos Sonic, then Sonic forgiving him right away. The heartbreaking part about all this was that Nine, being vulnerable once again, was afraid to lose the bond they had. He really did care for him.

Sonic forgave him, he understood the Council used him. But he's also going off the basis that "Nine = clone of Tails", Nine would never do such a thing, the two foxes are both innocent after all. That's why Sonic defend Nine multiple times, whenever anyone dared to call Nine a threat or a traitor. He may see Nine, yes, but it's kind of hard not to compare to someone that appears almost identical to Tails.

Transcript:

Sonic: "Only a true friend could pull off a save like that." Nine: "Friend? We're friends? Sonic: "You bet we are!"

[S2 EP6]

[S2 EP7]

When he finally met this supposed "Tails", he could see how they are similar in appearance, but he ultimately says,

Transcript:

Nine: "This is the friend Sonic thought was like me? We're nothing alike."

[S2 EP7]

But they were, at least on one thing: they both got attached to Sonic.

[S2 EP8]

We all know what happens next: after the battle in Ghost Hill with the Council, both Nine and Sonic finally realized that they weren't on the same page.

Nine was betrayed. As a young fox, he tried to protect himself in a hostile environment, physically and emotionally, hiding himself from the world. He didn't attempt to make a personal connection with anyone because he believed that they would respond coldly. So he became independent. That was until Sonic arrived. He warmed up to him, allowing himself to be vulnerable around him. He cared, and was willing to risk it for the sake of their friendship. Because it was worth it. Then, to learn that Sonic never saw him as Nine, he realized that he let himself get hurt. How a fool he was. (Notice the metal tails.)

Sonic was also betrayed. The assumption he made since the end of EP1 was wrong. He didn't listen to what Shadow have warned of, he didn't understand that Nine was his own individual. He simply went with the basis of what he knew, to fix the mistake he made. Desperate to go back to his friends, his home. He was too blind to notice that Nine wasn't like Tails, to take the time to see the outcome of his own decisions. How he completely trusted Nine without hestitation. It's not to say he didn't care for Nine, he did, but he didn't notice. He assumed, which came to a cost. Once again, by his own fault, Nine got hurt and took the Shards for himself. He was this close to fixing everything and by his own fault, he lost it all again.

[I would like to state that these were my interpretations. If I misunderstood something, that's my bad. But I did want to put my thoughts here because I've hated how after S2 ended, some people kept saying that "Nine became a villain out of nowhere" or "Nine was just using Sonic for his own gain" or "Sonic didn't care and got what he deserved". The two made their own mistakes due to miscommunication and the lack of listening for both parties. Again, this is my opinion.]

To be continued...

Previous Part || Next Part || Masterpost

[scorbleeo]

Drama Review: Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938

Source: Google Images

An unexpected case leads Lee Yeon back in time to 1938, where he reencounters Ryu Hong Joo. Once a guardian spirit of the mountain in the west, she's now the owner of a high-end restaurant in the capital city of Gyeongseong. He also meets his younger brother Lee Rang. Meanwhile, another former guardian spirit and ex-friend Cheon Moo Young has become hostile. Lee Yeon struggles to return to the present, to his loved one.

Source: MyDramaList (2023)

One of the Most Unserious Dramas Out There

Before we start: I did not watch the first one and am not planning to watch it at all. Going into Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938 I admit I had to do a Q&A with my sister to understand what happened between the Lee brothers in this drama's modern world. However, one does not actually need to watch the previous drama to watch this and honestly speaking, from what I saw and knew about it, Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938 is a whole lot more interesting and fun.

That being said, lets get on with how I felt about this drama. I am not kidding when I say, this is the most unserious drama for a drama anyone would think to be serious. Practically half of this drama was comedy and that is a praise. The comedy bit plays a part in making Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938 so darn interesting and fun. Yet, this show also pulls on your heartstrings be it the brothers, the best friends or the best friends' righthand people.

I understand romance was a huge part of the first instalment but in this, it was just a tiny bit and I believe that is why I freaking loved watching this drama. In terms of what romance there was, I have no complains too. I mean, I adore the mermaid and the only complain I have is that I wished we could have gotten more scenes with her powers. When Rang said he liked someone who's stronger than him, he was not lying. The way Yeohee was written was right up my alley, she may not be as powerful as Rang but she saved him more times than he saved her and even when she was in danger, she still did not back down on a losing fight. For that reason, Yeohee is I really thought I would dislike the mermaid but nope, I love her.

Another thing I seriously love about Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938 was the friendships. Any friendship in this drama was a pleasure to watch. Obviously, the friendship among our three mountain gods was my favourite. Don't get me wrong, Yeon is extremely lovable but in this trio, I need to worship my lady, Hongjoo and lovingly protect the cinnamon roll, Mooyoung. These three portrayed my kind of friendship where they were tight as children, still tight as adults and even with unfortunate circumstances, they might hate but they love each other more. Of course, the friendship among the roommates was a delight too. I only highlighted my top two favourites but I am not lying when I claim that this show did friendships so well.

Now, now. We have a problem though. At the beginning of this drama, Taluipa told Yeon even if he changes something in 1938, it does not affect 2023. I think its safe for me to say that we do not want that to be true, right? I am just willing to believe that what Taluipa said meant that Rang would still be dead in 2023, nothing Yeon did in 1938 changed Rang's decision in the future. I would even go as far to say that, everything Yeon did in 1938 further encouraged Rang to make that choice in the future. That is all I am willing to believe because I hear there's a third season and I need my best friends and roommates reunited to fight (without a doubt) the original mountain god. Yes, I know I said all I am willing to believe is that Rang is still dead but that's because I am sure there will be no Nine-Tailed dramas without both Lee brothers alive.

When the next instalment comes out, I will watch it as long as Hongjoo and Mooyoung are still around (if Jaeyoo, Miyeon and Yeohee are too, even better). I don't even care if there will be more romance although I wish there wouldn't be.

Rating: ★★★★★

P.S.: Anyone else felt that the big bad villains were so pathetic as compared to the smaller villains?

[editoress]

Jumbo OC Asks! Char - 💋📙💙; Ranna - 🍒⭐🔮; Cutter- 🌹🍐🌀;

💋 How affectionate are they with their friends? Their family? Their romantic partner(s) (if they have any)? Are they more physical or emotional when it comes to displaying their affection? Why?

Char is actually very affectionate, but casually so. As the party has seen, this appears as gestures first, as an extension of looking out for people. She does favors for friends. She adds habits to her day-to-day for them. Physical affection follows much later, and it's similarly frequent but understated. Clapping shoulders, ruffling hair, even giving quick hugs.

She's not emotionally closed off, but she doesn't often stop to be sentimental, either. If asked, she'd be honest about how she feels. But you might have to ask.

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun? What things bore your OC to tears and they couldn’t care less about? Why?

Char likes work talk. Unfortunate but true. Weapons especially—she could compare make, accuracy, ideal situations, and so on all day long. She also likes swapping stories with different people and hearing about places she's never been. She's from Yora and she's had a limited career, you know?

Twalan interests her immensely, even if what she's learning right now isn't encouraging. But ironically, I think hearing about etiquette and house politics would put her in a coma.

💙 What did your OC want to be when they grew up and why? Did they have any lifelong dreams or ambitions they never got to work on or are they currently working to achieve this dream? Has their life taken a very unexpected turn and put all these plans on hold for a while or have they given up on any dreams?

Listen. Let's be real. Char's dream was to be A Tiefling With a Cool Well-Paying Job That People Respect. This is because she came from an immigrant fishing village, which she found very boring, in a country where people are sort of :/ about tieflings. In any other story, she'd be the heroine, because she had such a typical "I was meant for more than this" youth.

She achieved that dream very young, by all appearances, although it wasn't in the most moral fashion. Later, life did take a very unexpected turn, and all of that vanished. The recognition of her talents, the fear and respect, the horns.

She's getting closer to that dream again, in a much much slower but better way. She works for herself; she does what she's good at. The silver lining of limbo is that she goes barefoot again, with her tail out. Who gives a shit if she's a tiefling anymore? And hey, the party is getting paid just fine!

🍒 What kind of things do they expect from their relationships? Does this differ between platonic relationships and romantic ones? Is your OC “demanding” or a door mat? What kinds of things do people expect from them in a relationship?

Oh, Olaranna. Her disbelief that she could ever be part of a fairytale romance versus her refusal to accept anything less than love that swallows her whole. Lucky for her that she feels so deeply.

Ranna shows every sign of being demanding: loud, opinionated, strictly honorable. And to be fair, she is demanding on two points: from anyone she accepts into her life, be they friend or lover, she wants loyalty and honesty. It's what she offers in greatest abundance, after all. She wants to know that someone will stand with her; and if at some point they won't, she'd at least like to know that, too, and why.

With friends, she's otherwise flexible. She loves to be helpful! She argues ferociously, but she capitulates far easier than it seems. (Espeeeecially for a significant other, ohoho.) As we know, what she truly falls for in a romantic sense is heroism.

I think a lot of people, well-meaning or not, have expected mostly cheering and entertainment out of Ranna. She's an obnoxious bard, after all. She's here to lighten the mood and boost morale.

⭐ What is your OC afraid of? Any crippling phobias or some such? How do they act when scared and what helps them calm down? Does anyone ever find your OC scary? Why?

Oh, Ranna would have you believe she's utterly fearless. But we all know that's simply not true. She fears losing the people she cares about, of course; every adventurer feels that one. On a deeper level, she's afraid of her own cowardice and inadequacy. It's why she's always being so LOUD about courage and facing challenges and what have you. She's afraid she's going to do something—or fail to do something—that she'll never be able to reconcile with her principles about herself.

I wouldn't say anyone's finds Ranna inherently frightening. Maybe... very alarming.

🔮 Star gazing or cloud watching? Hand-holding or snuggles? Early mornings or late nights?

Cloud watching for the sun elf! Hand-holding, I think, as she's very expressive with her hands and mysteriously keeps grabbing Ori's. And Ranna can easily do both early mornings and late nights. Sleep whomst?

🌹 How easy is it for them to connect with others and make friends? On the flip side how easy is it for them to make an enemy of someone? Are they the kind of person who hangs around the food table at a party and never talks to anyone or are they the type who can talk to anyone?

The thing you have to understand is that Cutter does not care about making friends. It's a happy surprise when someone has the good taste to appreciate him.

On the other hand, it's very easy for him to make enemies, and it's also a fun hobby. People are so sensitive. Maybe if they were better at things they wouldn't have to get so offended.

🍐 What is your OC’s mentality? Are they overall positive? Negative? A bit of both? Describe their thought patterns and reasoning behind their choice making!

I would call Cutter's mentality very... focused. It's positively gleeful when he gets his way, and mournfully glum when he's personally inconvenienced. He's a surgical robot built for a single purpose. He has found personal fulfilment in frightening people also. Those are the two things he's after and how he makes his decisions.

🌀 Where is your OC from? Where were they born? Do they still live there, if not why did they move? If they still live in the area how has it changed since their childhood? How many places has your OC lived in and where has been their favourite?

You caught me; I'm not sure exactly where Cutter was made. I can tell you that he was a hospital surgeon, but the organic staff found him deeply off-putting. He has the bedside manner of a vulture whom you owe money. The hospital probably sold him off for cheap, which dearly insulted his pride. He's worth at least ten times that much! Ingrates!

[ronaldanthony4]

Once again, I found myself diving into my digital art, the way I always do when I have a burst of inspiration. This time, however, it wasn’t just any random piece of art. I had decided to make a fan art of a character that’s captured my attention lately—Zundamon. You might wonder why I chose her. Well, let me take you through my process and inspiration because, for me, creating art is never a random act. Each character I choose to draw has some connection with me, and Zundamon is no exception.

Zundamon isn’t just an ordinary character; she’s special, and unique in her own right. She’s an anime character, but this time I decided to draw her human form. If you’re familiar with her, you’d know that her mascot design looks completely different. But for this artwork, I felt drawn to bring out her human side, giving her a more relatable yet slightly magical presence. Her hair, that distinct bob of green with a long, skinny ponytail at the back, instantly reminds anyone who knows her of her original mascot form. That ponytail—it always looked so much like a tail to me, like something wild yet contained, a balance between energy and grace.

As I began sketching her, my focus turned to the two ear-like antennae features that sit on top of her head. They’re not just for show; they give her a slightly otherworldly look like she’s from a different realm altogether. I wanted those antennae to stand out, to almost frame her face while giving her that playful, mischievous aura. The antennae are as important as any other part of her design, hinting at the more fantastical nature of her character. They add a touch of whimsy and intrigue, drawing the viewer in to wonder about her story and origins. The antennae truly elevate her design, making her more than just a typical creature.

Next, I worked on her face. Those bright yellow eyes. How could I not highlight them? They’re like windows to another world, glowing with intensity and intelligence, and I knew they had to be the most striking feature of the artwork. It’s through her eyes that you can see her character truly come to life. They’re the kind of eyes that draw you in and make you curious about what she’s thinking, what she might say next. Her cheeks, too, had to have that soft, rosy look—just enough to make her feel youthful and full of energy, but not too much that it would take away from her other features.

When it came to her outfit, I wanted to balance her playful side with a sense of sophistication. Her outfit is green, of course, matching her hair, but I added some pink accents to make it pop. The suspenders give her a slightly vintage feel, while the puffy sleeves on her shirt bring out a sense of innocence. Her green shorts fit snugly, and her boots, also green with pink trimmings, give her a slightly playful, fairy-tale vibe. Altogether, the colours and design choices were meant to give Zundamon an approachable yet whimsical appearance, like someone you might meet in a dream.

Now, why did I choose Zundamon for this artwork, you might ask? It’s simple. Zundamon isn’t just any character—she’s a vocal synthesiser, one of those fascinating creations that blend technology with creativity. I’ve always been intrigued by characters who are more than just anime figures; they have a deeper purpose, a more profound role. Zundamon sings educational songs, often in Japanese, with a cheerful and slightly quirky accent. One of my favourites is when she sings the Greek alphabet. There’s something both hilarious and endearing about hearing her upbeat voice sing something so academic in a catchy tune, like “Yankee Doodle.” It’s like she’s taking something so rigid and formal and turning it into something that sticks with you, and I wanted to capture that energy in my artwork.

As I drew her holding a microphone, I could almost hear her voice in my head. That lively tone, so full of zest and playfulness. The microphone isn’t just a prop in her hand; it’s an extension of who she is. She’s a performer at heart, and I wanted the viewer to immediately understand that she’s about to burst into song any second. Her stance—confident but inviting—shows that she’s not just there to entertain but to educate, to teach you something in a way that only Zundamon can.

What’s interesting is that Zundamon reminds me a lot of another character I’ve always admired—Yakko Warner from Animaniacs. If you’ve ever seen him in action, you know what I mean. Yakko has that same ability to turn something as mundane as facts and figures into a musical experience that stays with you. I can still recall Yakko singing the nations of the world, all to a fun and catchy tune. Zundamon has that same magic. She makes learning fun, and there’s joy in the way she does it. It’s not just about the knowledge; it’s about the experience of learning, and that’s something I’ve always appreciated in characters like her.

Zundamon is not just a character for the sake of entertainment—there’s depth to her. She’s part of this larger wave of vocal synthesisers, which, if you ask me, is one of the coolest developments in digital art and music in recent years. Vocal synthesisers like Zundamon allow creators to blend art with technology, creating something entirely new and fresh. Zundamon was developed by SSS LLC in Japan back in 2017, and since then, she’s evolved so much. Just this past June, in 2024, she received two new voicebanks—one for CeVIO AI Song Voice and another for VoiSona Song Voice. That’s huge for her development, and it only adds to the potential for what creators can do with her.

As I continued working on my fan art, I kept thinking about how far technology has come. Characters like Zundamon are pushing the boundaries of what we think is possible. She’s not just an animated figure; she’s a tool for creativity, a symbol of how far we can go when we combine art and tech. And it’s not just in Japan—these kinds of vocal synthesisers are gaining popularity all over the world. But there’s something special about Zundamon, specifically, that keeps me coming back to her. Maybe it’s her playful nature or the fact that she’s used to teaching in such a lighthearted way, but there’s something about her that resonates with me on a deeper level.

When I look at the finished piece, I feel a sense of satisfaction. I’ve managed to capture Zundamon in a way that feels true to her character but also adds something to my interpretation. The way her hair flows, the way she holds the microphone, ready to belt out another educational tune—it all comes together to create an image that I’m proud of. I didn’t just create fan art for the sake of it; I created something that speaks to who Zundamon is and why she’s so important to me.

In the end, creating this artwork wasn’t just about drawing Zundamon. It was about celebrating everything she represented—creativity, learning, and the joy of combining the two. She’s more than just a vocal synthesizer character; she’s a reminder that education doesn’t have to be boring and that it can be fun, lively, and engaging. Whether she’s singing the Greek alphabet or showing off her new voice banks, Zundamon continues to inspire not just me but countless others around the world.

I’m already thinking about my next project. Maybe I’ll dive deeper into the world of vocal synthesizers, or maybe I’ll return to another character that’s been on my mind. But for now, I’m content. I’ve created something that I feel truly proud of, and that’s all that matters. Zundamon, with her green hair and glowing yellow eyes, will always hold a special place in my heart—and now, she’s part of my digital portfolio, a testament to the power of creativity and technology coming together.