such a funny way
happy new year from me & the titans <3
𝜗𝜚 𓂃 titans tower glowed against the winter-dark sea, every window lit, every hallway humming with anticipation. inside, the common room had been transformed. string lights crisscrossed the ceiling. donna had somehow convinced the couch to cooperate with decorative pillows, and cyborg’s speakers thumped softly with a playlist labeled “certified bngers”
garfield was upside down on the couch as he fiddled with a party horn. “i’m just saying,” he announced, “if the new year doesn’t start with chaos, are we even doing it right?”
raven, seated cross-legged on the floor nearby, didn’t look up from her book. “chaos is not a requirement for temporal milestones.”
gar grinned anyway and leaned over the edge of the couch until he was eye-level with her. “but what about fun?”
she sighed, closed the book, and gave him a look that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “you are exhausting.”
“and yet,” he said brightly, sliding off the couch to sit beside her, “you keep me around.” raven’s lips twitched. just barely.
across the room, dick stood near the windows with koriand’r, watching the city lights reflect off the ocean. kori’s eyes sparkled brighter than the decorations as she took everything in.
“this celebration,” she said warmly, “is most wonderful. on tamaran, the turning of a year is marked with fire dances and storytelling.”
donna emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of sparkling drinks. “okay, nobody touch these yet,” she warned. “they’re for midnight.”
cyborg followed her, already holding one. “define ‘midnight.’ because my internal clock says we’re close enough.”
donna raised an eyebrow. “put it down, vic.”
he grinned. “worth a shot.”
the room slowly filled with laughter, conversation overlapping as the minutes ticked closer. cyborg challenged gar to a video game that lasted exactly three minutes before devolving into shapeshifting cheating accusations. donna took over DJ duties when cyborg got distracted, slipping in slower songs as the night wore on.
raven leaned back against the couch, gar’s shoulder brushing hers. he didn’t make a big deal of it. just stayed there, warm and steady. after a moment, she didn’t move away.
“you okay?” he asked quietly.
she nodded. “new years can be… reflective.”
“yeah,” he said. “but we made it through another one.” she glanced at him, violet eyes softer than usual.
“we did.”
as the countdown appeared on the screen, everyone gathered closer. donna counted down loudly. cyborg echoed her. gar shouted random numbers out of order just to be annoying.
“five!”
“four!”
“three!”
“two!”
“one!”
“happy new year!”
cheers erupted. dick kissed kori. streamers flew. cyborg’s speakers blasted music again. donna laughed as gar shifted briefly into a green wolf just to howl triumphantly.
kori kissed dick again. “i am most pleased to begin another year with you.”
he rested his forehead against hers. “me too.”
nearby, gar hesitated for half a second. then raven leaned in and kissed him first, brief but unmistakably real. he froze, then smiled into it, returning the kiss.
when they pulled back, he whispered, “best possible way to start the new year.”
raven rested her forehead against his. “we’ll see.”
gar offered raven a party popper. she hesitated, then took it, setting it off with a soft pop. confetti drifted down between them.
“…happy new year, garfield,” she said.
his grin softened. “happy new year, rae.”
as the night settled and the energy mellowed into comfortable quiet, the titans lingered together. whatever the new year held, they’d face it together. at titans tower, that was a promise as solid as the walls around them.
summary: you’ve sworn off dating, especially boys like john murphy, but everything shifts when he helps you without flirting or showing off. his unexpected kindness keeps slipping past your defences until he admits he used to be a fuckboy but wants to be better because he likes you.
warnings: mentions of fuck boysss, fluff,
You’d sworn off boys.
Not in the dramatic, “men are trash, I’m becoming a beet farmer instead” way.
No, it was quieter. Tired. A gentle, exhausted nope.
Because boys like John Murphy.
The cocky, shirtless for no reason, smirks like he’s collecting tax on it type.
Those were the worst.
Always flexing.
Always flirting.
Always calling girls “princess” like it was a default setting.
And he’d tried it on you.
Relentlessly.
Months of it.
“Nice hoodie” he’d purr whenever you walked by.
“You look like trouble”
“You should smile more, sweetheart”
You shut him down every single time.
Murphy didn’t get it.
He flirted with everyone and usually people flirted back.
But you?
You treated him like a mildly annoying mosquito who happened to have great biceps.
Until one day...
You were lugging a crate of medical supplies across camp, too heavy, too awkward, too stupidly shaped, and of course, it slipped.
Crashing to the ground, scattering bandages and bottles everywhere.
You hissed under your breath, dropping to your knees to clean the mess before Abby found you and decided you were single-handedly responsible for all of humanity’s failings.
A shadow fell over you.
“Hey”
You braced for the smirk.
The teasing.
The “need help, sweetheart?”
But Murphy just crouched beside you.
Silent.
Steady.
Hands gentle as he picked up supplies and sorted them properly.
No flirting.
No jokes.
No eyes dropping to your chest or legs.
Just… helping.
“You okay?” he asked, voice surprisingly soft.
You blinked at him “Yeah. I just.. it slipped”
“Yeah, they do that”
He gave a tiny, crooked smile.
Honest.
A little shy.
Shy.
John Freaking Murphy???
He didn’t even ask for anything in return.
He just carried half the crate for you, walked beside you, and left with a simple.
“See you around”
No wink.
No swagger.
And god help you, something… cracked.
And from there it continued.
It started small.
He’d hold open doors.
Brings you extra food from the mess hall, your actual favourite food.
Not some random guess.
Not something he liked.
Yours.
He’d offer to fix gear for you before you even asked.
He never hovered.
Never bragged.
Just… quietly existed around you, like a warm little nuisance.
And one night, sitting by the dying fire, you caught him staring.
Not at your body.
Not at your hoodie.
At you.
You raised an eyebrow “What?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, an actual nervous habit, apparently.
“I, uh… can I tell you something without you throwing a rock at me?”
“No promises”
He licked his lips, eyes darting to the flames.
“You know… I used to be a fuckboy”
You snorted. Loud “Used to?”
“Wow” he muttered, smiling despite himself “Okay, deserved”
You crossed your arms “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because…”
He exhaled, shoulders loosening as if he’d been holding this in for weeks
“I realized I really like you. And I just...I don’t want to be the guy I was when you met me. I want to be better. For you”
The fire cracked.
Your heart cracked with it.
“You are…” you murmured, trying desperately not to smile “a complete idiot”
“Yeah” he chuckled, shaking his head “I know”
And maybe it was the firelight.
Maybe it was the honesty.
Maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were the first soft thing he’d ever been allowed to hold.
But you leaned in.
Slow.
Careful.
Testing the water.
He froze, breath catching, lashes fluttering, like he couldn’t believe this was real.
And when your lips touched his, Murphy kissed you like he’d been waiting his whole stupid life.
Soft.
Warm.
Zero smirk.
Zero bullshit.
Just a boy trying his absolute hardest.
When you finally pulled back, you nudged him with your shoulder.
“Don’t make me regret this”
“Wouldn’t dream of it” he whispered, cheeks pink.
And there, right there, you realized something a little terrifying.
Maybe some boys do change.
Maybe some boys grow.
Maybe some boys learn.
And maybe this boy, with his idiotic smile and reformed fuckboy heart, was worth breaking all your rules for.
summary: Why is there a mostly shirtless man in your bedroom and why is it Kim Namjoon's, your roommate's, fault? All you want to do is play League of Legends, not be visually attacked by ridiculously attractive Jeon Jungkook as his six friends perform living room karaoke at the top of their very drunk lungs.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; classic Namjoon ripping clothes; you don't have to know how to play LoL, I explain most of it; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, begging, scratching / marking, nipple play, edging / orgasm denial, handjob, (unintentional?) voyeurism, little bit of cum-eating, choking, cowgirl, cock warming); non-idol!BTS – purple-haired, kind-of-a-brat, sub!Jungkook x gamer, noona, dom!reader, ft OT6 being chaotic in the background XD
@yn-the-reader linked me in this and I was already writing about him. a prophet, maybe? XD
--
“WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”
You died.
Not literally, but also literally.
“Fuck!”
Now you had thirty-seven seconds of gray screen to figure out why the fuck Jeon Jungkook had busted into your bedroom on this cheerful night with his black dress shirt three-quarters of the way unbuttoned, revealing most of his – oh, sweet Satan, very muscular – pecs and the upper half of his abs. He was holding something in his hands, looking helpless and sad, while you were panic buying Liandry's Anguish and experiencing a special form of anguish yourself.
“Noona, um–”
That’s right, because you were in the middle of a League of Legends game, playing Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace, also known as half-snake lady or the lamia of the champion roster or a mean version of Monster Musume’s Miia (if you know, you know, and if you don’t, be glad you don’t). Your roommate was having friends over after going drinking. All this was fine and dandy with you, because you were going to spend all night wearing headphones and playing League of Legends, therefore ignoring the outside world, until the outside world came to bother you in the form of Kim Namjoon’s – your roommate’s – mostly shirtless friend Jeon Jungkook.
He wasn’t mostly shirtless most of the time, only right now.
“Noona, Namjoon-hyung ripped my shirt…” Jungkook whimpered hesitantly, chewing on his lip. He looked awkward and distraught despite his long dark purple hair giving him a rather fierce, bad-boy look.
Namjoon was a great roommate. He was smart, conversational, and insightful. A chat with him usually led to an enriching, open-minded perspective. He was relatively clean, considerate, communicative, nonjudgmental, fun to be around, and only set the kitchen on fire twice.
The second time was your fault.
You shouldn’t have let Namjoon in the kitchen the second time.
Also, Namjoon with his friends was a wildly chaotic time. All of his friends, especially drunk, were fucking nuts. Normally, they were probably relatively calm people (maybe not Kim Seokjin or Jung Hoseok, they were very excitable), but together they were a mess. You often wondered how they could function as a group.
Currently, however, you were trying to collect your brain cells as you had mere seconds before respawning onto the platform and were forced to play again. Timing in League of Legends was very important. Seconds can mess up wave management of minions and wave mismanagement can lead to game losses if you weren’t careful. The nuances of the game were often ignored by casual players.
You were, in short, a nerd about it.
“Fucking s-shit, what h-happened?” you sputtered out, turning back to your screen, unable to look at mostly shirtless Jungkook because he was MOSTLY SHIRTLESS. Honestly, he had quite nice pecs, and you should not be thinking about that, but it was incredibly distracting, just like how it used to be distracting when Namjoon was shirtless, but several years of living with him made you accustomed to his impressive pectoral muscles, to the point where you could joke about them with him.
But this was not Namjoon – this was his younger friend Jungkook and you had no idea Jungkook was ripped, mostly because you didn’t pay attention to Namjoon’s friends.
There were too many of them and you were too introverted for that.
“I don’t know, he just grabbed my shirt and it ripped and I managed to find all the buttons, but, but…”
Cassiopeia respawned on the platform and you couldn’t ignore the snake lady any longer. You had to play the game because four random people on your team were counting on you and you couldn’t exactly type, sorry, there’s a hot man in my room with his shirt practically off and I don’t know what to do with my life, so you had to suck it up and play the damn game.
Right-clicking and keeping your eyes only on your computer monitor.
Half-listening to that trembling, silvery voice coming up behind you, making your hairs stand on end even though all he was doing was dumping the tiny buttons on your desk.
Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself.
“Can you repair it? Please? My mom bought me this shirt and Namjoon-hyung said you can sew, so maybe you can sew them back on? Please?”
“Yes, Jungkook, I can, just not right now, I’m in the middle of a game,” you rambled, suddenly trading damage with the enemy Viktor, trying to avoid the laser from the Machine Herald, swearing under your breath as you stutter-stepped and stunned him, poisoning him quickly enough with your abilities to avoid dying. “I will help you, I just – fucking shit, get the fuck away from me Udyr, fuck!”
“Wow, you curse a lot, noona. It’s kind of funny.”
“I – fuck– I mean, sometimes, and what are you guys doing out there? It sounds like a deranged cabaret club,” you remarked, ticking your head towards the direction of your bedroom door.
“Karaoke!” Jungkook replied brightly, still standing behind you, why was he standing behind you, it was freaking you out a little, but Ocean Dragon was being taken and a team fight was about to happen, so you had to ignore it and support your teammates in chasing down the enemy support.
Seokjin hit a high note that was so shrill that you heard it through your headphones.
“… Wow, he’s got some lungs on him.”
“Do you wanna join us, noona?”
“I can’t sing.”
“Neither can we.”
“Pretty sure all of you can sing better than I can, even Yoongi and Namjoon. I’m fucking terrible.”
“I’m not that good.”
You barely survived with thirty hit points after that debacle of a team fight, but your team had the dragon and you all were slowly on your way to victory. You pressed the ‘B’ key to return to base, but kept your eyes on the screen, lest Udyr, the Spirit Walker and serial bear stun-slapping enemy jungler, ran your ass down and killed you.
“Jungkook, your voice is absolutely heavenly. Fucking beautiful. I’m sure every human being on Earth would want to be serenaded by you.”
Silence that you didn’t notice was awkward for him because you were too busy letting out a sigh of relief and building your next item, typing quickly to your teammates. You all were about to set up for vision around Baron Nashor, a large purple worm-dragon monster that when killed provided a significant, sometimes game-ending buff.
“R… really?”
“Yeah, and you’re handsome, gorgeous, and hot as hell too, so the whole damn package,” you responded absentmindedly, realizing the enemy were trying to split-push and trade objectives so you sent some pings to your teammate to take care of that as you accompanied the main group to help clear waves of minions.
Heat.
You heard him shift beside you and suddenly his face was next to yours, watching your screen closely.
Side-step, cast your ultimate, cast your Miasma ability to ground the enemies and prevent them from dashing away, switching between auto-attacking and piercing them with Twin Fang, all in the span of a mild freak-out because why was Jungkook so FUCKING close?
“Wow, you’re so good at League.”
“I’m Diamond rank, so not that good, but definitely better than all seven of you combined.”
“Haha, true, we’re all pretty bad,” Jungkook laughed next to your ear and, oh, shit, is warm breath feathered on your neck, why weren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something and not your self-cropped oversized band t-shirt and slinky black leggings, why weren’t you cocooned in layers of clothes, because you were quickly highly aware of how attractive Namjoon’s friends were.
To top it all off, you were in the middle of a game, so you just had to tolerate it and stay calm for the sake of your teammates and your elo.
“Maybe you could teach us and we’ll teach you something in return.”
“You guys don’t even listen to each other, why would I assume you all would listen to me?”
“I’d listen to you, noona.”
Now your team was doing the Baron dance, skirting in and out of vision, daring the other team to make a move, daring each other to make a mistake so the other could capitalize on it, slowly, slowly, watch the waves, watch the minimap. Careful. You could control the situation if you were calm and not too trigger-happy. Tension in your fingers and tension in your neck because your roommate’s friend was right next to your head, observing your every move.
His violet hair brushed your shoulder.
Soft, delicate strands against your skin.
“You’re more experienced, so you would know what to do.”
Your support snap-engaged a fight and you were immediately in the zone, right clicking rapidly, cycling through your abilities, keeping track of the opponents’ spells, determined not to let any of them get away, following your teammate’s calls and not hesitating, because hesitation as death and loss, and you were so close to winning you could taste it, going after it with passionate vigor and a slow-forming grin, seeing and hearing the in-game announcer declaring, QUADRA KILL.
You didn’t kill all five of them because someone took the pentakill from you.
You might have cared about that except your ear exploded into clapping as Jungkook excitedly applauded for you, cheering you on, reminding you that a mostly shirtless man was standing right next to you.
Thanks, Namjoon, you thought sarcastically.
“Wow, you played that so well, dodging the Viktor ult and stunning three people like that–”
You felt your cheeks heat at the compliments, busying yourself with your team killing Baron. You didn’t usually have someone commenting on your games. Your eyes flickered to the small buttons on your desk.
Especially not a mostly shirtless guy.
Mostly shirtless hot guy.
Back to screen, seeing your jungler’s typed instructions, suggesting you all to destroy as many structures as you could and then prepare for the next fight for Ocean Dragon Soul and – oh? Your eyebrows raised as the screen abruptly jerked to the enemy base, the nexus inside exploding into shiny gem-like fragments that became the VICTORY banner.
“They surrendered?” you uttered with surprise, clicking on the CONTINUE button. “Why?”
Your eyes flickered to the kill score.
“Oh, thirty-two to nine… maybe that’s why….”
Your team had the nine deaths and the opponent team had thirty-two so, well, maybe that’s why they surrendered the game.
“Aw, that’s no fun,” Jungkook pouted as you clicked on the damage screen. Second most damage. Okay, you could take that. You were a little distracted.
“So, about your problem–”
You spun around to, ack, realize that, yes, Jungkook’s shirt was still flapped wide open to expose his chest like an unwrapped piece of caramel candy. He seemed to realize it too, making a surprised face and yanking the sides closed, as if you hadn’t gotten a damn eyeful already.
“I can resew the buttons back on, but you should borrow a shirt from Namjoon in the meantime,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Because I, ah, can’t really sew it when you’re still wearing the shirt.”
“Oh… Oh, right, yeah.”
Then he started yanking his shirt out of his slacks.
UMMMMMMM.
Usually, you didn’t care about this stuff. Men were men. They had chests. But you had things you liked too. Just like how men like tits and ass, you liked well-built pecs and forearms. Actually, you appreciated a nice ass and thighs too. And cute faces. Fuck, you loved a cute face.
“Uh, Jungkook…”
He looked up, questioningly. Big round brown eyes, his violet bangs framing his chiseled jaw, parted pink lips, the small mole underneath his lower lip looking so, so kissable, quivering slightly.
Fuck, Jungkook had a cute face.
His shirt was very open.
Fuck, his lightly tanned skin.
He was hesitating around a button, his deft fingers flexed, ink black tattoos standing out on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Your legs were slightly spread, thighs flush to your gaming chair. Half a second and Jungkook’s eyes flickered back up to your face, pretending he hadn’t been looking.
You raised your eyebrows.
“Are you really just gonna strip in my room and walk out asking Namjoon for a shirt and hope none of the six guys think anything about it?”
His eyes shifted around your room. Bed with black sheets and black velvet duvet. Television with your gaming consoles. Your collection of character figurines from various games. Your black denim jacket hanging on a hook, covered in monotone patches that you had sewn yourself, mostly occult-themed, skeletons, skulls, cats, ghosts, potions, eyeballs, that kind of thing. Back to your desk.
Your legs.
Really staring at your thighs, hips, and crotch.
Up your torso, your hands, your exposed collarbones.
Your face.
Guarding his expression, testing the waters.
“Maybe,” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes darted away and back, teeth catching his lower lip. “I really am hoping you can fix my shirt.”
You watched his face carefully, the flare of darkness in those brown orbs, a hint of naughtiness, dancing with danger. Jungkook had a mischievous streak. You could tell by the way he interacted with his hyungs, listening but talking back, helping them with things but not without a roll of his eyes or a smart remark added, probably because all his friends were older and he was the youngest. He knew he could get away with it.
In short.
Brat.
“What would you like in return, noona?” Jungkook purred, smile dancing on his lips.
Honorifics were supposed to honor you. Show a sign of respect and all that shit.
All I wanted to do was play video games, you grumbled internally. Not suddenly have a thirst fest for one of Namjoon’s best friends. You narrowed your eyes a little, seeing the smirk on that perfectly shaped mouth. He’s not stopping either.
Outside your room, something fell with a loud crash. Probably Namjoon by the depth of that startled yelp. Everyone else started laughing and a very loud, cheerful melody was blasting from the living room television. Nobody was coming to investigate you and Jungkook.
Yet.
“Turn around and ask for a shirt,” you sighed, waving a hand. “Then take off your shirt in the bathroom and then, only then, do you come back and give me your dress shirt.”
You saw Jungkook frown, not expecting that as your answer.
“Oh. Okay.”
He seemed disappointed, lowering his hands.
The silky fabric of the dress shirt slid off his right shoulder, partly revealing his tattoo sleeve and fully revealing his right collarbone and shoulder.
You sucked in a breath, eyes flickering to it. Then his face. Then back to his body. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jungkook jumped, startled by the fallen fabric and reached over to grab the fallen collar. Your hand moved faster than you had time to think. You had good reaction time. It was the gaming obsession.
You slapped his hand down.
Jungkook squeaked, head snapping up, purple hair floating around him, gold chain on his neck glittering as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Strangely, his chain resembled your sterling silver choker that you were wearing right now, except you also wore another necklace with a circular white gold pendant with your zodiac sign.
Not that anyone was ever close enough to inspect it.
“N-Noona?” he breathed, sounding strangely winded.
Shit.
You hadn’t meant to do that. Your body reacted faster than your head.
Shit.
Fuck, he had a nice body. His pecs. Even had a nice dark nipple – well, he probably had two, but you could only see one at the moment – and it all trimmed down to a slim waist and shapely hips. You could tell because of his tailored black slacks. He had been wearing a blazer earlier in the evening too. It was probably on a chair somewhere in the apartment.
Shit.
What did Jungkook need to look so damn good for?
“Where did you guys go to be dressed like that?”
Yes, you were really just going to interrogate him with his shirt dangling off like that.
Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, the tiny mole underneath bouncing up and down as he spoke. “We went to a fancy hotel rooftop bar to celebrate Yoongi-hyung’s award that he won at the music show for producing that song–”
“Ah, right, Namjoon mentioned that earlier today.” Dress code must have been black tie.
Those dark brown eyes found yours, observing you carefully.
“I would have liked to see you there, noona.”
You stopped staring at the tattoos on his bicep and made eye contact. Fuck. Those eyes. Sparkling with deviousness. Trying to see how far he could push your buttons.
“I wonder what kind of dress would you have worn?” he murmured, musing to himself. “I bet you would have looked hotter than any girl there.” Jungkook smiled, playful and boyish. He wasn’t being sleazy about it. Every word was light and honest. “A tight little black dress? Maybe bright red? Short, because you have incredible legs. It would be a crime not to show them off.” He was only complimenting you. His tone wasn’t trying to be suggestive.
Yet.
You didn’t close your legs. You had nothing to be shy about.
Instead, you leaned back in your gaming chair as if it was a throne, resting your left elbow on the armrest and your chin on two fingers, thighs wide open, and your other hand in between them, fingers curled inward to your inner thigh.
Jungkook’s pink lips curved ever higher, ever more roguish.
“Whatever you would have chosen, you would have looked so, so sexy.”
You ticked your head.
“I know.”
Because you did.
Look here, Jeon Jungkook, I’m here minding my own damn business and you’re here inserting yourself into my life, so if you can’t handle me knowing my self-worth, you can fuck right off.
He reached up and tucked a bit of his purple hair behind his right ear, grinning at you.
“You sure you don’t want anything from me?” he asked, a slight flicker of pink tongue between white teeth. “I can give first and then you can decide whether or not you want to help.”
Honestly, those sultry eyes could stop a heart.
You removed your hand from your chin, tapping the air with those two fingers in a dismissive manner.
“Hm.”
Outside, Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok were singing a soulful duet and Park Jimin was hooting at inappropriate moments to ruin the atmosphere as much as possible. That raspy, breathless laugh was Min Yoongi, who was probably doubled over on the floor in his expensive suit. Classic genius music producer of the year behavior right there.
Jungkook tucked his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeve falling down, revealing his blacked-out inner elbow. Mountains with a dark sky. It must have hurt, doing something like that. Still, he did it. For aesthetics?
You heard the smirk rather than seeing it, mostly because you were looking at his body.
“I would look so damn good on you, noona.”
Alright.
You closed your eyes slowly and reopened them to look directly into those dangerous, dangerous eyes.
“Lock the door.”
Not really an order. More of a statement. Jungkook could do it or not, you knew. He couldn’t be coerced to do anything. He did things because he wanted to do them. He was nice because he wanted to be nice. He was childish when he wanted to be childish.
And.
Jungkook was obedient when he wanted to be obedient.
He turned around, went to your bedroom door, and locked it.
Well then.
He came back and stood in front of you. A little closer now.
You cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to come looking for you.”
Jungkook smiled down at you. “I’m sure they will.”
You frowned, lowering your hand to tap the end of the armrest. “They’re going to think I started this.”
“You kind of did.”
Your eyes narrowed sharply. He grinned, taking a step closer.
“Because it’s not my fault you look so good,” Jungkook breathed, voice deepening, leaning down, your expression unchanging, not pulling back but not encouraging anything either. “Not my fault your body is hotter than a summer. Not my fault your confidence is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.”
Your thighs were still as open as his shirt.
Jungkook put his knee in between them.
His dress shirt was basically almost completely off his body now, falling off the left shoulder too and dangling off his forearms, exposed collarbones and shoulders, tan skin taut over muscle. A delicious body line, so fucking close to you that you could feel the heat. You still didn’t do anything. You weren’t going to do anything. You didn’t prompt this. You were simply minding your own business commanding a snake lady to victory, not expecting to get seduced by a mischievous bunny-like smile and a tiny black mole under a cute pout.
“I can’t help myself around you.”
You usually didn’t say more to Namjoon’s friends than a mere hello, not wanting to bother them with your presence. They were all men after all. You expected them to want bro time or whatever. Also, you were too busy being obsessed with men that didn’t exist in real life to pursue men that did exist in real life.
At least League of Legends had 3D models so no one could say you lived only the 2D lifestyle.
That didn’t mean that you didn’t partake when the dinner laid themselves out to be eaten. They often had to, because you wouldn’t pay attention otherwise.
Purple hair drifted into your vision, surrounding you in a curtain of violet and dark brown eyes, warm exhale and trembling pink lips, trapping you in Jungkook’s gaze, but you refused to relent, keeping your gaze even. Steady breaths to disguise your racing heart.
You kept your hands closed to prevent him from seeing your shaking fingers.
“Every time I see you, I want you to touch me,” he whispered, trying to hide the edge of nervousness by lowering his voice, enticing you to lean in to hear him better because someone was wiping a damn window in the living room outside your door or was that Kim Seokjin laughing?
There was no difference.
Jungkook’s forehead touched yours and you stopped thinking about Seokjin.
“I just want you to feel me up, rip my clothes off, and fuck me until I can’t think straight. Use me, abuse me, wreck me, ruin me,” he shuddered, definitely thinking about it, and one blink and you spied the obvious tent in his pants.
“Maybe I’m a lazy girl,” you finally said, touching your nose to his, inhaling his breath, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of fruitiness, and that hint of cologne, fresh, clean, and intense. Something else too. Musk, maybe his pheromones or something like that. Whatever it was smelled fucking delicious, just like you. What did your perfume smell like? Spiced fire blended with addictive sweetness.
You shrugged casually.
“Maybe I’m a pillow princess.”
Jungkook chuckled.
“I can tell you’re not.”
You had to smirk.
Of course, you weren’t.
You closed your thighs around his knee and squeezed, raising to your tiptoes. He gasped softly, shivering at the simple touch of your soft thighs pressing around his muscular leg. It was disturbingly noisy out there, but here it was silent, pared down to your breathing and Jungkook’s breathing, mixing together, blazingly hot, closer, closer, doing the careful dance, daring each other to make the move that was so obviously going to happen.
“What are you gonna say when they ask you where you’ve been all this time?” you whispered, avoiding letting your lips brush against his.
“The truth.”
His tongue flickered out and barely touched your lips.
You didn’t make a sound.
Jungkook moaned, the sound drifting into your throat, and you could taste his desire.
“I tripped and fell into your lap.”
Your lips curved into a smirk.
He kissed you.
His hands on the armrests of your rolling chair, pushing it back into your desk, pressing his lips to yours, inhaling deeply, wanting to breathe you, wanting to taste you, wanting you, shivering as you finally touched him with your hands, but this was you, and your first touch wasn’t going to be wasted on a conventional innocent touch.
Your fingers closed in on his rock-hard erection and stroked him through his pants.
Jungkook moaned your name right in your mouth, eyes half-lidded, his violet hair encircling your face as he rolled his hips into your palm, whining deep in his chest.
“Fuck, yes, noona, play with me…”
You flitted your tongue between his lips and he chased it, begging you for more, and yet you continued to tease, light flicks between those soft pillows, nipping at them, even pushing up his lower lip so the tip of your tongue could draw a small heart around that mole, kissing it, so gentle, so delicate. His entire body shook, your hand palming his hardness through his pants, nails scraping against his balls, caressing all of it, acting like you owned it. Jungkook was certainly humping your hand like you did.
“You only want me because I didn’t want you,” you taunted, not bothering to hide your smirk and your slight disapproval.
“That’s not true,” he panted, attempting to get you to touch his chest, pushing you back into your chair, and yet you kept the fingers of your free hand on the cusp of what he wanted, heat close but no contact, causing him to whimper every time your fingernails barely nicked his skin. “I want you because you’re pretty, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”
Hm, that sounded familiar.
“I want you because I love watching you play your favorite games,” he chuckled, kissing the side of your lips, nose to nose. “I want you because I love that little smirk you make when you do something good. I want you because I love that aggressiveness that comes out and how you seem to lose your filter. Shit, it’s so fucking hot when you’re focused. Makes me wanna see your face when you’re pinning me down and having your way with me. Makes me want to obey you and disobey you at the same time, because I want you to reward me and punish me, I just can’t decide, fuck, you make life so hard for me.”
He punctuated hard by violently humping your hand, rattling your desk with his force.
Outside you heard Namjoon yelling “CANNONBALL” and throwing himself onto that giant gray furry beanbag you paid far too much for about six months ago. It was now a household party favorite, due to its massive size and fluffiness. At the moment, it sounded like a pile of six guys in semi-formal clothing was beginning and, instead of watching this heap of hot dudes being constructed, you were making out with the seventh guy’s face and grabbing his dick.
You’ll take this trade.
You felt Jungkook’s hands groping around, undoing his pants and the zipper, trying to get you to touch more, more, desperate for you to be all over him.
“P-Please… please, I don’t know when they’re going to notice…” he pleaded. “You’re so close, so close, ah, I can’t think, please…”
“Shh…” you soothed. “The door is locked.”
Your fingertips finally touched his chest, not disappointed in the slightest when you touched those delicious-looking pecs. They felt just as nice under your palm, his pounding heart and wanton moan vibrating up your arm.
“Aren’t you a needy little brat trying to distract me from my games, hm?”
Your fingertips hooked over the waistband of his boxer briefs.
“You’re going to have to face the consequences, Jungkook.”
You said his name like a delicious sweet about to be eaten, growl in your throat as you yanked down his underwear, capturing his lips, robbing him of his cries as you clawed down his chest, grasping his cock and pumping him, long, complete strokes from base to tip, curling your fingers around his balls, juggling them with your fingers teasingly as he squirmed and groaned. Your free arm shot around his back, digging your nails into his spine, not letting him get away. His black dress shirt was falling, falling to your floor, his bluish-purple hair in your face and his strong hands on your shoulders, sliding down, kneading your breasts through your clothes, whining that you were still wearing a bra – of course, you were, six dudes were coming over and they didn’t need to see your magnificent nipples on display, although clearly one of them wanted to see – and he was trying to get to the hem of your shirt, but you smacked his hands away, building the pressure and speed, pre-cum leaking between your fingers and adding slickness to lessen the dry friction.
Fuck, you could smell him and he smelled so fucking good.
“Noona, please…” Jungkook gasped, hands on the armrests of your chair, tipping his head back at the pleasure, pants at his fucking knees, chest, crotch, thighs on display. “This is… embarrassing…”
He meant him being mostly naked and you being dressed.
You shrugged, acting indifferent. “Not for me.”
He whimpered at your words, so noticeably dominant despite not using an aggressive or commanding tone. Either that or he was very invested in you jacking him off. You suspected it was a combination of the two, considering how eagerly his cock twitched when you answered.
“What should I do, Jungkook? Should I let you cum? Or should I play with you and stop, make you put your clothes back on and walk out there, desperate to be finished off?” you mused aloud, running your nails up his back, not that hard, but he leaned back into it so they sank into him, wordlessly begging you to do it harder, so you did, setting your jaw and scratching at his back, forcing him back into position. His cock throbbed in your hand, pulsating wildly.
Hm, he really loved it, huh.
“P-Please… wanna cum, please don’t be mean…” he gasped, thrusting his hips into your punishingly tight grip.
“Hm, why does it matter? You’ll just run to the bathroom and finish yourself off anyway, right?”
“Want you to do it, please,” he begged, his long hair curling around his jaw, dark purple locks framing the sharpness, lashes fluttering as you rubbed your thumb against the underside of the head, smearing pre-cum over the slit. “Your hand feels so good, so fucking good, better than I thought, please, I need you to touch me or I can’t get off, please…”
You removed your hand.
Jungkook cried out in denied despair, pitch hiking, the sinful sound clearly audible despite the debaucherously loud ruckus outside your bedroom door that included not one, but two people howling like werewolves for some unknown reason. At this point, you were mildly curious.
But you had a job to do.
He grabbed the front of your shirt, almost sobbing with need. Somehow his violet hair was a mess and you hadn’t even touched it. It cascaded over one of his eyes, an indigo curtain, the other chocolate orb shaking and pupil dilated, black prominent in the dark brown.
“Please don’t–”
You shoved two fingers from your right hand into that pleading mouth and raised your left.
He choked, gagging a little on your fingers.
You stuck your tongue out and licked your palm, slathering it with a thick layer of slick saliva.
Jungkook’s eyes widened at the dirty action and then rolled back into his head as you wrapped your hand around his aching cock once more, now covered in saliva, swiftly and fervently jacking him off, hard, fast, tight, nearly choking his cock, pushing his chin up and his chest to your hungry mouth, tongue and teeth and lips, all over those dark nipples hardening under your persistent touch, heedless to his rising moans, so very obvious now what was happening in your bedroom.
It didn’t bother you at all. Jungkook walked in here and asked you to wreck and ruin him, so you did exactly what he asked you to do, leaving harsh bite marks and slippery saliva all over his soft skin, your perfume rubbing off onto his body, coating his chest in your scent and his pulsating thick length with your spit, and he was so fucking hard that you were impressed, feeling his mouth suck on your fingers desperately and wetly, your name a messy garble above your head.
“Fuck, yes, umpf, oh fuck, I’m so close, so close, gonna cum, goona cum for you…!”
“Jungkook?”
You had no idea who called his name through your door, because the next second Jungkook was pitching forward and shooting his cum up your thigh and chest, thick white strings painting your leggings and band t-shirt, soaking into the fabric and creating a sticky mess on your skin, your head lifting in response to his movement to avoid knocking into him, your fingers sliding out of his lips, strings of saliva snapping as they left, and suddenly Jungkook’s face was in your face, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss, rutting into your hand to increase the sensitivity, shoulders and hips flinching, whimpering gratitude and ecstasy into your mouth, his hands in your hair, kissing you deeper, more ravenously, ignoring the questioning voices, lost in the pleasure of his orgasm.
You heard Namjoon say outside your door, “I think he made his move.”
You asshole, at least warn me, you thought irritably.
“You’re so good… so good, exactly what I need… I knew you would be… fuck…”
You thrust your tongue into his lips once and backed off, chuckling as he whined for more.
“Go ask for a shirt.”
Jungkook shook his head rapidly, violet hair flying everywhere. Your hand was still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, his cum dripping onto your wrist. His ears were turning red.
“I can’t… They know something is going on…” he mumbled, scooting closer to you, as if your body heat could somehow mask the fact that you just jacked him off with six of his friends standing outside your bedroom door whispering.
“Maybe you wanted them to know.”
You squeezed his ass and he trembled, clutching your shoulders.
“Easy way to tell them that you want to be owned by me, right?”
You could tell by the way his eyes were darting around rapidly that the thought crossed his mind more than once.
“Jungkook.”
You said it loud enough for a keen ear to hear it if they were really eavesdropping. You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes immediately fixating on yours because of your tone.
In control, not to be questioned.
“Get on your knees.”
Dead silence outside your bedroom.
“B… but…”
His cheeks flushed pink.
You took his chin and pulled him down to your face, murmuring to that mole under his lips, pecking it daintily, almost innocently, his wispy moan drifting over your nose. Your words were barely above a whisper, only for him.
“You made a mess. Clean it up.”
You stroked Jungkook’s chin with your thumb, your other hand tucking his long hair behind his ear.
“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, so be a good boy for me right now and I’ll let you be a bad boy in bed.”
His head tilted and Jungkook whispered your name into your mouth, drenched with desire.
You smirked, stroking his jaw fondly.
He got to his knees, in between your open thighs, leaning forward, subservient eyes on your face as his pink tongue extended, licking at his own cum staining your clothes, eyes closing at your hand on the top of his head, not directing the movement, but reminding him who was in charge here, reminding him with nails in his scalp that he was going to be fucked until he couldn’t think straight.
Used, abused, wrecked, ruined.
-
“I don’t wanna.”
“We both know you do.”
“But I want to fuck you,” Jungkook protested, speaking softly because everyone was sleeping, or at least it seemed that way, not that either you or Jungkook cared, because you were forcing him to his knees on your bed, pushing his torso back, nails digging into his chest, towering over him, his naked body already covered in your bites and scratches, focused on his inner thighs and chest, none on his neck because that’s where he wanted it the most.
And you knew it.
“Noona, please…”
He said please a lot for someone who did not, in fact, want to be pleased, but tortured.
You grabbed him by the chin, cocking an eyebrow.
His hands were behind him, arms shaking as they held him up, shivering delightfully under your petrifying gaze.
“Please what? Hm? Saying please when you come crawling into my room, begging for dirty things with your friends right outside, saying please when you interrupt me and distract me, jeopardizing my chances to win my game?”
You leaned in close, you knowing you were only crafting a scene, him knowing that you didn’t actually care, but Jungkook wanted to hear the words, wanted you to put that malice in your tone to caress his ears, wanted you to cannibalize his sanity and put him in a different headspace, his cock already responding to it, bobbing in the air, purple-red and achingly hard from multiple orgasms, and he still wanted more.
“Saying please so you can say please when you’re under me, helplessly begging me to let you cum?”
You could hear his whines vibrating under your fingertips, pupils blown wide, lower lip trembling, begging you already, such a needy little thing, those lovely brown eyes full of submission, muscles tense with anticipation, every passing second spiraling him into increased frustration, because instead of doing anything, you were only smirking wider and wider, pushing his head back.
“Well? Tell me if you’re a dirty boy or not. Maybe I’ll do what you want.”
His violet hair cascaded to his shoulder blades, his low moan coursing through your fingertips and the heated air of your bedroom.
“Y… Yes, I’m a d-dirty boy…”
“Noona,” you prompted.
Just because you could.
His lips curved into an open smile, two of your fingers hooked over his lower lip, fingertips rubbing his tongue. Your thumb nail pressed into his mole.
“Noona.”
You ripped the condom open with your teeth, which was not advisable unless you were the kind of person that practiced that for hours on end, spending an obscene amount of money on unused condoms to perfect your technique, because nobody wants a broken condom or lube in their teeth. Why would you want to learn such a thing? You were a stickler for details. A perfectionist in perfecting a perfect display of raw dominance.
You spat out the torn corner onto Jungkook’s chest and he whimpered, unashamedly amazed.
Your left hand removed the condom from the package and your right slid out of his mouth and encircled his neck.
You inspected the condom, lazily turning it to the correct position, fingers pressed to the sides of his neck, leaving plenty of space for his trachea between your thumb and forefinger. You didn’t bother looking at his face. Instead, you spread your legs, poised and naked over him and his throbbing cock.
Your right hand started choking him.
Your left hand started rolling the condom down his thick, hard length.
Your name leaked out of his lips in a thin gurgle, his eyes rolling back into his head.
“Say please, Jungkook.”
A sharp, distinct order.
“P… Please…” he gasped out, chest shuddering.
Your hand tightened around his throat and your pussy clenched around his cock as you forced yourself down on him.
“Oh, fuuuuuuuck…”
You didn’t bother asking if he liked it. His vicious fisting of your sheets and trembling body, cries and cock included, told you everything you needed to know. You only watched the color of his cheeks, knowing there were limits to how long you could choke him. Therefore there was no time to be wasted, already starting your favorite pace, rough and hard, filling yourself with that delicious cock built to take your abuse, jaw set, gripping his throat, blood pounding under your fingertips, slapping hips to crotch, heat sparking though your veins, hotter, hotter, your smirk growing more and more smug, tongue tracing your lips as you witnessed Jungkook’s descent into sin, raising his head so he could watch you bounce on his cock with hazed brown orbs, mouth open, tongue lolling out, circulation thinning, purple hair wild around that cute, distressed face.
You let up the pressure on his neck, dark snicker rumbling in your chest.
“This pussy worth it, brat?”
The rush of missing blood into his brain, the suffocating pleasure of your pulsating walls wrapped around his twitching cock, your authoritative growl and merciless words tearing through him – you saw it all taking over Jungkook, forced to respond honestly from pure instinct because there was no time to compile pretty words or a smart comeback.
“Yes, noona, yes, I love it, I love it, this brat fucking loves what you do to him…”
You immediately choked him again and slapped your pussy onto his cock like you were whipping him.
His eyes rolled back and a wild moan tore out of his chest, cut off by your hand.
The bed creaked under you, bearing the weight of your roughness.
“I know you love it,” you snarled, leaning in, fucking him into your bed with vigor, straining his knees, so uncomfortable and so comfortable for him at the same time, pain and pleasure, clearly something he craved and loved from how hard he was. “You said you need me to touch you or you can’t get off.”
You knew that couldn’t be true.
Jungkook probably got off hundreds of times thinking about you, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ecstatic about you violently riding his dick right now.
His teeth sank into his swollen lower lip, staring at you through his lashes, his voice a thin whisper laced with insatiable need.
“I can’t cum without you anymore.”
You removed your hand.
Your hips stopped abruptly, fulling sheathing his cock inside you.
“No!”
His shout was so loud and desperate that you had to conceal your surprise, not expecting the frantic ferocity of his tone, nearly an agonized sob as he grabbed your upper arms in a crushing grip, his indigo locks crashing into his high cheekbones, sticking to his sweaty face and sharp jaw. It took everything in you to stay calm, everything to not give in and let him have what he wanted. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was knowing the role you were playing, maybe it was the sadistic side of you, who the fuck knew, but there was only a beat of hesitation, a second of you staring into those beautiful dark brown eyes, so perfect.
Just perfect.
Perfectly wrecked, willing to do anything in this moment for you to continue.
Before he could utter a peep of a plea, you shook out of his grip and seized his head, crashing his lips onto your neck.
Jungkook bit you.
Instant, searing pain, taking out all his sexual frustration on your neck, sucking at the skin, hot tongue lapping, groaning, moaning, half-crying because you didn’t move. You just sat on his dick and forced his mouth onto your neck, gleefully savoring his despair, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the pleasure, his hands and nails digging into your waist, his teeth latched to the side of your throat, his stiff cock shuddering inside you, your tight heat keeping him hard but not letting him cum, repeatedly squeezing the engorged head brutally, driving him insane.
Insane.
You could feel his lips move, but you muffled his words, pushing his head into your neck.
Please.
Deep inhale, his wonderful scent filling your nose.
Please.
Riding the high that was Jungkook’s desire for you, fingers tangled into violet strands.
Please.
He felt so, so good, spoon-feeding the dom in you with his tiny whimpers and distraught sniffles.
“P… Please…”
You pressed your lips to his hair, murmuring his name sweetly.
“Jungkook.”
No quiver to your tone, only serene calm.
“Noona…”
His hands slid up your back as your hips began to rock, slow, so painfully slow, building the frenzy layer by layer, his hardness swelling inside you, his soft lips pressed to his hickey onto your neck, even more turned on because he knew you let him mark you, he knew in this moment you were his and only his, everything he wanted and more, his hips rising to meet yours, deepening your thrusts, matching your force, burying his face into your skin and your scent, wanting nothing more than your command over his body.
You turned his head, tucking his hair behind one ear, speaking dark whispers into that curve.
“You look the best when on your knees for me, Jungkook.”
He shivered, your name falling sloppily from his lips, drunk from your power and lost in his service.
You let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders instead, putting all of your weight onto him, now letting yourself chase it, chase the orgasm that you had been building for yourself all this time, letting yourself feel Jungkook and feel the full force of the pleasure he gave you, because, yes, of course, you served him first before you, even if it didn’t seem like it.
Because when it came down to it, Jungkook came to you, opening himself petal by petal to show you his vulnerable side, testing the waters, hoping, wishing, praying that maybe, just maybe, you were the kind of person that he was expecting, wanting, needing, and you, knowing how difficult that was because, well, you had made it difficult, only focusing on games and not on those longing eyes that watched you whenever you came into his view.
Eyes that you looked into now.
Half-lidded, glazed over, fucked-out, still honest.
His large hands were still on your waist, holding you to him as you rode him with furious slaps, muscles flexed in his chest and arms, tattoos on his right arm tense and taut from holding this position for so long. He looked so good. Felt so good. Had an amazing cock.
And fuck.
Jungkook had a cute face.
You genuinely smiled.
“I’ll take care of everything,” you drawled, injecting your words with conviction and adoration.
That did it.
His lips parted, low groan emitting from his throat as his head tipped back, purple waterfalling onto his back, thrusting up into you and shooting into the condom with fierce jolts, unable to hold back any longer, his entire length flinching uncontrollably, sweet whimpers at his release, feeling sorry that he didn’t let you cum first, but that didn’t matter, because you rode through it, already there, falling, falling, your sigh like laden smoke as your orgasm slammed into you, welcoming the bolts of cruel pulses flying through you, concentrated onto your core, Jungkook’s moans hiking into pitched ecstasy at the convulsing clenches of his oversensitive, overused cock, arms embracing you tightly, hugging you for dear life, chest to chest, pounding heart against yours.
Your fingers tangled into his hair.
His hand fitted around your head.
Lips to lips and you took care of everything, claiming that mouth as yours, holding him up even though you were the one in his lap, your kiss onto that perfect mole under that pretty pout, cherishing every mumble of your name, lowering him onto your pillows, soft kisses in between. You took care of everything, lifting yourself off him, chuckling as he whined, pawing for you to come back, but you rapped his knuckles and calmed him, removing the condom and cleaning him off gently with a towel, soft kisses in between because he wanted the attention, deliberately not closing his eyes until you crawled back into the bed, tucking the covers around you and him, Jungkook immediately turning and yanking you into his chest, nose against your skin.
“Who’s the pillow princess?” you teased, ruffling his long violet locks.
His lips pressed onto your hickey, his mark on you, and he sighed in content, drifting into sleep.
-
In the morning, you found a pile of five guys in the living room sleeping in various positions on the giant gray furry beanbag and the sofa. Jungkook was in your bed, passed out. The last guy, Min Yoongi, was in Kim Namjoon’s room, sleeping on his bed, because he was a smart man and took advantage of a perfectly good bed that five drunk hooligans undoubtedly forgot about.
You chuckled and rubbed your neck as you brushed your teeth, seeing yourself and the large purple hickey Jungkook had made last night in the bathroom mirror.
You went back to your room after retrieving the sewing basket from the living room, spending the morning calmly stitching the small buttons back onto his black dress shirt as the seven guys in your apartment continued to snore away.
Then you went back to playing League of Legends.
Ah, Cassiopeia, I had an eventful evening, but I have returned to you.
@lulubellule-kfp your oogway sucks tai lung and kai are flawed/hurt not pure evil rant has changed me spiritually, and honestly, I can’t even give Oogway credit for ‘intervening’ with Tigress.
Oogway is presented as the Wisest and Kindest and Best.
(btw this is very biased and emotional and hammered out in ten minutes and i do love the movies tbh some stories are surface level deep and that's cool)
Oogway is maybe better understood as Thinks He's Wise, Charming Rather Than Kind, and Flawed Like Everyone Else But He's Also The Most Powerful So He Gets To Decide What's Right And Wrong.
his biggest flaw (to me) is in imposing his own idea of the world on everyone else, no matter what the cost, and never self reflecting on how it might be serving him- Even as it hurts and destroys so many others
(grain of salt- we the audience are limited in what we 'know' by what we've been shown so far) (kai and tai lung did do bad things, they did choose to hurt people... and so did oogway. and not having that acknowledge is frustrating. not bad or wrong but, frustrating)
When does Oogway finally do something to help Tigress? Why, after one of Po’s randomly spilled menus happened to flutter into his hand.
Oogway, being dead set on his own philosophy of /there are no accidents/ he orders takeout and chuckles when it gives Shifu food poisoning. The valley is in danger from a rampaging violet dude who’s destroying everything and everyone one in his path but hee hee destiny.
Tigress puts HERSELF forward, willing to fight Boar in her master’s place- and Shifu cuts her off. If she can’t fight like him, then she can’t be ready to fight at all, apparently. So Shifu decides to send a scroll asking for help fighting Boar, and Oogway, deciding that it also wasn’t an accident that Tigress asked to fight Boar, tells Shifu to send Tigress with the scroll instead. Shifu agrees “DO NOT FAIL ME” and Tigress does her thing collecting the Cleaner, Comedian, and Dancer.
(Sidenote: The difference between Tigress instantly seeing how amazing each of them are even though none of them use moves like hers, verses Shifu refusing to accept that there is any other way of being good than HIS way until he literally sees it happening is hmmm yes well, good job mentoring him Oogway, that’s a perfectly healthy mentality to be clinging to, how the heck did Tigress end up more emotionally balanced than the guy raising her) (im gonna give credit to the people running Bao Gu orphanage or actually maybe just the fact that Tigress spent part of her childhood around so many people not like her but who learned to accept her as a friend)
When Shifu gets pissed at Tigress for ‘failing him’ (even while he fails to listen when she tries to tell him how amazing these four people are actually, Shifu would rather die than be wrong. Healthy!), Oogway does go talk to Tigress…… to fire her up for fighting Boar. Alone.
Which is, apparently according to him, the Thing The Universe Wants To Have Happen, and that’s why he’s going along with it. Because he sure as heck didn’t sTOP Shifu from raising Tigress under yet another painful crushing weight of expectation, like he already did with Tai Lung. Nooo, it took a random flyer flying into Oogway’s claws before he was like you know what, maybe Tigress completely giving up her sense of personal identity in a desperate bid to win the love of her father figure is wrong actually. Wow who'd have thought!
Or does he even care about that. Does he only care now because ‘the universe’ seems to be saying so? TIGRESS LOOKS BASICALLY GROWN UP IN THE SHORT HOW LONG HAS OOGWAY WATCHED SHIFU MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE WITH HER THAN HE DID TAI LUNG AND DONE NOTHING? TO HELP?
Oh yeah and then, when Tigress gets the tar beaten out of her by Boar because she’s still trying to use the forms Shifu insisted she should be using (even as it is literally getting HER killed), Oogway not only doesn’t do anything to help her, he makes Shifu stand there and watch as he almost loses ANOTHER student, ANOTHER (almost) ADPOTED CHILD.
And? AND???? Oogway could have healed Shifu whenever he wanted? Just like he could have TALKED TO TIGRESS whenever he wanted! For fucks sake if he’s so in tune with the universe and so wise, why didn’t he just wander around the nearby villages and FIND the other Five himself? TIGRESS FOUND VIPER AND MONKEY WITOUT ANY DIRECTIONS OTHER THAN AN OCCUPATION TITLE! THEY WERE RIGHT THERE!!! MONEKY’S BACKSTORY SAYS HE AND OOGWAY EVEN MET BEFORE!
'oogway knew shifu and trigress needed to go through all this in order to grow as people'
PAIN ISN'T THE ONLY WAY FOR PEOPLE TO GROW. SOMETIMES PAIN BREAKS PEOPLE! SOMETIMS CHALLENGES AREN'T WORTH THE SUFFERING IT TAKES TO SURVIVE THEM!
and SOMETIMES IT LEAVES PEOPLE WEAKER THAN BEFORE- SEE, SHIFU BEING UNABLE TO OPEN UP FULLY WITH TIGRESS AS A FATHER THE WAY HE DID WITH TAI LUNG, BECAUSE-- OH WOW, THAT ENDED BADLY AND SEEING THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN TAI LUNG AND TIGRESS HURTS AND SCARED SHIFU!!!!
it's almost as if all three of them could have used the guidance and support of a wise and kindly older friend.... instead of series of tests and trials to 'help them' become whatever they were 'meant to be'
Oh but oogway was saved by pandas and now theres a panda orphan being raised in the village nearby (am i really supposed to believe oogway wouldn't notice PANDA right next door to him) and if a flyer from his dad’s noodle shop leads to shifu getting food poisoning then everything must be part of the grand plan to someday make a panda oogway’s ‘true heir’ or whatever.
Hm? What’s that? Po’s only an orphan because a warlord killed his mom and destroyed his home? And all that happened ALSO because of a dumb prophecy and an obsession with destiny?
Oh wow that also must be the universe talking and totally not be a thing oogway maybe could have helped with or something.
(i don't think oogway was trying to hurt people or be selfish. but intentions are only useful in so far as they might make you change course once you see the damage you are un-intentionally causing, and ooogway... seems to have failed that spot check. which, you know, fair, most of us do. he just happens to be causing a lot more damage than a normal person would be capable of)
Oogway's pacifism is both extreme and twisted.
He won't 'fix' mistakes or accidents because he believes it's all part of some future destiny... but inaction is also an action with consequences, and who is he to decide the destiny of others by even deciding they have one?
Well. He's the most powerful guy around. It's not like there's anyone around to challenge him or prove him wrong.
....Po, sweetie, now that you're enlightened an all, could you go to the spirit realm and kick oogway's butt a little? for me? thanks dude love u
On the other hand, Po and Tigress being the anti-Oogway and Shifu respectively gives me life.
like yes! always try to be better, always try to help! be accepting of others differences and pain and traumas and do everything you can think of to be there for them when they need it! Admit when you fail! Admit when you mess up! Make friends and reach out- Ask for help when you need it too!
You don't have to be perfect to be a friend!
It's better to know and accept that you won't ever be perfect, actually, and still decide that you are worthwhile. And that so is everyone else.
TLDR: oogway's ability to find inner peace and ascend off to retirement even while everything around him is going to heck is a very inward-facing thing, which says a lot about him. I think maybe he needs to re-do his spiritual enlightenment, i think he missed a spot. But if his only goal is to break away from earthy attachments and pain and people in general, well, gold star for that. He succeeded. I sure as hell wouldn't want to.
funny thing is, i only ended up watching kfp because my depressed nephew is into taoism and wanted someone to talk about the movies with. thats not destiny tho, oogway, that's just being a friend
Feyre gets locked out in the rain and fears she'll have to tough out the storm. That is, until a kind stranger opens his window.
Masterlist | Read on Ao3
Warnings: Language
2130 words
*******
Feyre’s favorite thing about her apartment building wasn't the location or the free parking—although she did love that—it was the rooftop.
She’d lived in the building almost a month before realizing she could access the roof. The padlock on the door was apparently for appearances only, and it easily came off when she pulled on it. She figured out how to rest it back on the door so that when she was out on the roof the door still looked locked to anyone who didn't know better.
So far, she hadn't run into any of her neighbors trying to share the spot, but she knew someone else used it. Normally, she came up here to paint or to think and look at the stars. The view from the roof was lovely; she could see the city center and all the lit-up buildings, and the Sidra river that flowed through it.
The first time she set up her easel, one of her paintbrushes rolled away, and when she tracked it down behind an old broken crate she found a book had been carefully tucked away behind it.
Feyre couldn't help it when she picked up the book to get a better look at it. She glanced around quickly before chiding herself, knowing that no one else was out there with her. She recognized it as some sort of mythology retelling. Feyre flipped through it, trying to find some name or any indication of who it belonged to. All she found was an old receipt from a clothing store being used as a bookmark.
Spotting her runaway paintbrush, she grabbed it and put the book back where she found it.
That wasn't the last time she saw that book, and it certainly wasn't the last time she lost one of her paintbrushes.
In the next few weeks, every time Feyre went out to the roof she looked for the book.
It was always in that same place, hidden away so it wouldn't be noticed. But every time she opened the book the bookmark was moved a little further along.
She also started noticing annotations written in the margins. Feyre tried to imagine what this person must be like. It was odd, but kind of fascinating to follow along with this person’s progress.
She tried to focus on the fascinating part, and not the part that made her feel a bit like a creep for peeping into this person’s thoughts.
Except, when she made her routine book check that night, it was gone.
Feyre tried not to feel too disappointed. Why was she so invested in another person’s book? But it had become a constant that she looked forward to, and now it was gone. She could only hope they would start another one.
She laid out a thin blanket and sat down to look at the stars.
She must have dozed off at some point because she was woken up by raindrops hitting her face. It wasn't heavy yet, but she could tell it was going to start soon.
Ignoring the drizzle, she glanced at her phone. Feyre groaned and sat up, rubbing her face.
“Ugh, okay Fey, let’s call it a night.” She mumbled to herself, sleepy and moving slowly. She packed the blanket in her large tote bag and went to go back inside. Pulling on the door, she stumbled back a step. She was too tired, her grip was already slipping.
Feyre adjusted the bag on her shoulder and pulled the door again.
It didn't move.
She gripped the handle with both hands and pulled, hard.
Nothing happened.
“No, no, no, no, no…”
Feyre was wide awake now. This couldn't be happening. Shit.
She threw her bag down and used all her strength to open the door she ultimately knew wouldn't budge.
Breathing heavily from the exertion, she stepped back from the door.
“Shit.”
The rain was beginning to pick up.
“Really?!”
Lunging for her bag, Feyre dug around until she felt her phone. Gripping it, she unlocked it and was about to find someone to call for help...but she had no service.
How could she not have any service? Oh, gods, she was going to be stuck out on the roof, in the rain, until someone decided to come out there. It could be who-knows-how-long until that happened.
Spinning around, Feyre caught sight of her salvation.
“The fire escape!” Beaming, she grabbed her bag and ran over to it. “You beautiful, fantastic fire escape, help me out.”
Feyre managed to climb down the four stories of stairs and ladders without slipping on the slick metal. Gods, wouldn't that be a sight? She’d slip and come tumbling down the rest of the way, providing free entertainment to whoever walked past the building’s back alley.
When she finally made it to the lowest landing she tried to lower the final ladder that would bring her to the ground.
Only, it wouldn't move.
“Come on,” she muttered, still trying to force it down, “Don’t do this to me. I’m so close!” Feyre looked down to see the drop. Cringing, she admitted it was farther than she trusted herself to jump without breaking something—most likely her.
Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky. Feyre pressed herself against the building as the rain finally poured down.
“Seriously?!” She shouted up into the apparent waterfall above her head.
A knock from behind her startled her enough that she jumped around and let out a loud shriek.
“Um, are you okay?”
A voice came from a window set into the wall that she hadn't noticed before with a man’s face pressed up against it. Through the rain streaming down the glass, she couldn't tell if he looked more concerned or wary at her appearance.
It took her a second to respond.
“No.” She tried to shake the wet hair out of her face. “I’m not.”
“Are you trying to go up or down?”
Ah. He was probably worried she was just some random person who decided to hop up onto his balcony landing.
“Down.” She said, trying not to think of how bizarre it must be for him to look out and see a woman stuck outside his window, sopping wet.
This really wasn't how she wanted to make first impressions with her neighbors.
“I got locked out on the roof and tried to get down the fire escape, but,” she gestured to herself and the now downpouring rain that was making this conversation difficult, “it didn't really work.”
She hoped he would offer before she had to ask the insane request.
Thankfully he did.
His eyebrows shot up and he seemed to finally notice how bad the rain was. Hastily opening the window, he gestured for her to come in.
“Come in, it looks awful out there.”
Before she could think better of accepting the stranger's invitation to literally climb into their apartment, she picked up her soaking bag from the grate at her feet and crawled over the windowsill, quickly closing the window behind her to block the storm.
Maneuvering to a standing position, Feyre took a moment to take a breath and thank whoever was listening for her unexpected savior.
She turned to face him. He was tall, she would have to crane her neck up if stood much closer. And he had vibrant violet eyes that the artist in her wanted to study.
“Hang on a second.” He left her standing in his living room. Feyre looked around at the sofa and tv that took up most of the space, the bookshelf propped against one wall, and pictures of friends on the wall.
The man came back in with a towel in hand.
“Here, try this.” He handed it to her politely.
“Thanks.” She quickly wrapped it around herself, trying to dry off and stop shivering.
“No problem.” He looked like he was going to ask her something when something on the bookshelf caught her eye.
“It was your book?” She gasped, pulling the familiar volume from the shelf. Feyre whirled around to face the dark-haired man who was looking at her warily. “You’re the one who’s been using the roof!”
He stepped closer to her and gently took the book from her hands, casually flipping through it. Flicking his eyes up at her, he asked, “How did you know about my book?”
Feyre could feel her cheeks heating and she could've sworn a smirk made its way across his face.
“I, uh, found it one day.”
“You found it?” he asked skeptically. “I hid it behind some old box, how did you find it?”
At least he just looked curious, and mildly amused, and not disturbed at her snooping. Yeah, maybe it was tucked away, but anyone who tried for more than a minute could’ve found it, so she didn't feel as bad.
Drawing as much pride as she could muster when she was dripping water onto this man’s carpet, she huffed, “It was a crate, not a box.” He grinned and she went on, “and for your information, I dropped a paintbrush and it rolled over there. I found the book when I was chasing my brush. I don't actively seek out other people’s things to snoop.”
His grin widened as she explained and by the end, he was chuckling.
“And here I thought you just really wanted to get to know my reading tastes.”
She scoffed, but hid a grin, “Yeah, sure. I don't even know you.”
As she said it, she realized it was true.
Besides the fact that he lived in her building and was kind enough to let her in from the rain, she had no idea who this man was.
It seemed he remembered the same thing as he gave her a charming smile and held out his hand.
“You can call me Rhys.”
“Rhys?” She raised a brow. She’d never met anyone named Rhys before.
“My full name is Rhysand, but,” he paused to wink at her, “the people I like call me Rhys.”
Feyre rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle flirting but met his hand with her own.
“Feyre. Just Feyre.” She held his gaze for a few more minutes before they both dropped their hands.
“Well, Just Feyre, I think I have something for you.”
Before she could respond, he vanished into the other room. He had something for her? What? Was this some other lame attempt at flirting?
She’d let him flirt if he wanted to, maybe she was a little interested to see what he’d try.
But he came back out to stand in front of her with one hand behind his back.
“Yes?” She tried to peek around him, but he angled his body away so she couldn't see what he was holding.
Leaning in close to her, Rhys said, “I believe that is yours.” With a flourish, he brought his hand in front of him.
“My paintbrush!” Feyre couldn't believe it. She looked back and forth between the brush and the man holding it, “I’ve been looking for this one. I lost it weeks ago! How do you have it?”
Rhys smiled broadly at her as she took it from his outstretched hand.
“I found it near the back corner one night, it must have just rolled away from you. It looked like it could blend right into the wall.”
Ceasing her inspection of the brush, shocked that she had found it—that Rhys had had it—she looked at him and beamed.
He blinked, almost dazedly, as he watched her smile.
“Thank you!”
Without thinking, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. Rhys tensed, and at that moment Feyre remembered that she was still soaking wet from the rain. Wincing, she hastily pulled away before he had a chance to return her hug.
“Sorry. I got excited.” She glanced down to see the small puddle on the floor beneath her and cringed. “I should probably go.”
“Hm? Oh.” Rhys cleared his throat and nodded, “Right. You probably want to change into something dry.”
“Yeah.” They both stood there awkwardly staring at each other, not sure what to say next.
“Okay,” Feyre picked up her bag and took a step towards the door. “I’m just gonna...” She trailed off as she and Rhys pivoted around each other so that she was closer to the door.
He walked with her the last few steps, pausing when she opened the door and turned back to him.
“Thank you, Rhys. For the paintbrush, and for not making me stand outside like a drowned cat all night.”
His laugh made Feyre crack a smile.
“Anytime Feyre, darling.”
She smiled.
“Goodnight Rhys.”
He mirrored her smile.
“Goodnight Feyre.”
Maybe getting locked out wasn’t so bad, after all.
This is largely inspired by the fact that I talk about the characters’ zodiacs nonstop in the fanfic I’m working on for my tpn witch au, and I’ve been chortling to myself the entire time about how well some of them fit their sign and how some of them just... don’t. I’m going to simply infodump about each character, their sign, element, and some attributes they fit to a t while others don’t make sense. I will also touch on compatibility for all you shippers out there, don’t worryyy. Now this isn’t at all a critique or review of the characters themselves— I know astrology is not the first thing authors consider when choosing character birthdays, if they even do at all, this is simply me rambling about my hyperfixation and projecting onto fictional characters like we all do.
A couple last notes— one character in particular (cough cough Ray) has a different “canon” birthdate from “actual” so I’ll discuss both. Also, while I will be doing surface level research to make sure I’m not talking out of my ass, im not a professional astrologist, I’m simply a witch with an enthusiasm for zodiacs. Well then, without further ado, let’s talk about the kiddos.
Emma
Birthdate: August 22nd
Sign: Leo
Element: Fire
An overview: The funniest thing to me about Emma is that she’s literally the epitome of a Leo. Fire signs are generally very outgoing and energetic—they talk a lot and tend to be the leaders of the packs. Leos in particular are incredibly admirable and truly know their way around a conversation. If I ever wanted to get stuck in an elevator for 48 hours with no wifi or connection to the outside world and only one random stranger to talk to for the entire duration, I would pick a Leo in a heartbeat. Emma is very much the leader-type, she’s someone everyone pauses and listens to when she calls for their attention, and she always prefers to talk her way out of conflict rather than fight—but not in an underhanded manipulative way, no, Leos are very genuine with their feelings and will be upfront about their reasons for their actions.
Take this scene between Emma and Leuvis for example— this to me is about the closest to perfect of a summary of what Leos are like, and how Emma fits her sign beautifully.
She doesn’t want to fight, but she will if she has to—for the good of her friends and the good of humanity. She can stick to her ideals and yet extend a hand to the enemy anyway. This is what makes Leos such a force to be reckoned with in leadership roles.
Compatibility and ships: I know I know, this is the part you’re most excited about. I’m going to attempt to refrain from sharing my opinion on each ship itself, I will simply point out which have the highest compatibility levels. First of all, essentially all signs are most compatible with 1. Other signs of the same element and 2. Their compliment sign, their elemental opposite.
Since Emma is a fire sign, she’s generally compatible with other fire signs (Sagittarius, Aries, and of course Leo) as well as Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini, and Libra). So speaking broadly, she’s compatible of course with Norman as an Aries, as well as Ray IF he truly is an Aquarius. But if we narrow it down a little bit, I should mention that fire signs being fire signs can often clash with each other because both their energies are so high (personal experience lmao), and therefore their elemental opposite, air, are generally the way to go. Usually you’ll find on astrological charts and sites that Leos are most compatible with Geminis and Aquariuses, so Ray again if he is an Aquarius, and then we bring Violet into the picture because she’s a Gemini. (Uh, speaking as a Gemini, Leos are my favorite people to date, and I always seem to crush on them as well. I have a problem. A Leo problem.) I’m so sorry Gilemma shippers but fire and earth signs are like the worst combo, I don’t know how this happened because I love Gilemma with all my heart. The stars simply did not align for us this time
Norman
Birthdate: March 21st
Sign: Aries
Element: Fire
Overview: okay listen. I didn’t believe Norman was an Aries at first because he’s not as high energy as most fire signs, but then the more I thought about it, the more it just makes sense. The most key trait to an Aries is loyalty. They are so incredibly loyal and caring to the people they love that they often neglect themselves in the process. They can be very quick to anger if someone hurts or insults their friend, and are unafraid to start a fight or commit morally gray or even black actions in service of their loved ones. Point is you don’t mess with an Aries’ family or friends. You will get burned.
All the loyalty applies to Norman so incredibly well—the way that his plans and actions revolve entirely around Emma and Ray, and the way that he sacrifices himself for their escape even though he’s terrified of dying. But even more so this loyalty strikes you in the face when he returns as William Minerva, willing and committed to full on genocide all to keep his friends alive and safe. As I’ve said Aries are quick to anger, which seemingly isn’t very present in cool-headed, thoughtful Norman, but then you remember this:
Look at his expression. Even if he doesn’t easily lose his cool, when he does it’s terrifying. So essentially Norman is a much more subtle Aries— he’s not in your face aggressive or full of energy, but he has all the hidden signs. So yeah, I honestly can’t think of any other sign that describes him better. Norman is an Aries.
Compatibility and ships: being a fire sign and all, Norman’s compatibility is actually very similar to Emma’s. He’s compatible with other Fire signs (Sagittarius, Leo, and Aries) as well as Air signs (Libra, Aquarius, and Gemini). Speaking broadly that makes him compatible with Emma and Ray again, but narrowing it down Aries are much better in general with Libras and Leos so congrats Noremma shippers you won.
Ray
“Canon” Birthdate: January 15th
“Actual” Birthdate: February 5th
“Canon” sign: Capricorn
“Actual” sign: Aquarius
“Canon” Element: Earth
“Actual” Element: Air
Overview: alright Ray is a bit of a mixed bag to unpack. Because it’s been stated that Ray’s January 15th birthday is not his actual birthday outside of the source material, then it’s reasonable for me to count both birthdays because people have different ideas of what’s canon and what’s not. Interestingly enough though, Ray does indeed fit well enough into both the Capricorn and Aquarius signs, however I personally believe one shows through him better than the other.
We’ve been talking about fire signs for Emma and Norman so it’s finally time to dive into two other elements! We’ll start with Capricorn then, the Earth sign. The most important thing to remember is that the Earth signs are the most grounded and practical. If you want someone who can give you logical and rational advice, your best bet would be the Earth signs (Air signs are also good at this but this ain’t about them. Although you will notice some overlap in traits between these two, particularly in Capricorns and Aquariuses).
We can already see the ‘practical’ side show through in Ray by the way he hyperfocuses on taking Norman and Emma to escape but insists on leaving the other kids behind. This isn’t to say he doesn’t feel for them, on the contrary, Earth signs are indeed very in tune with their emotions and empathy, but Capricorns really know how to set that part of them aside in favor of the calm and certain route. They like tangible solutions, things they can grasp with the least amount of risk, and they’re very resistant to changes—like giant rocks. This is also noticeable in how Ray gets so very flustered by Norman and Emma’s impulsivity. He clashes with both of them because Earth signs prefer to take things slow while Fire signs just like to make a leap and hope for the best.
Note how Emma says “not that I mind...” meanwhile Ray is out here going “I MIND!!” Which we learn is because of his identity as the spy. He’s got his own plan and a tangible solution to shoot for, and Norman and his impulsivity and Emma going along with it is messing everything up. Thus, he forcibly retakes control of the situation via making a deal with Norman after the traitor is revealed. Very Capricorn stuff.
And if you want an image that just completely sums up the Capricorn in Ray, here you go:
On the OTHER hand, if we’re to go off Ray’s “actual” birthdate, which was so lovingly calculated by Tempo, then we get Aquarius Ray, the Air sign. The most important things to note about the air signs is that they’re the thinkers—the farthest from impulsive, they’re the least in tune with their emotions, and they are oh so horribly indecisive. Where Earth signs will be able to give advice that adheres to both logic and emotion, Air signs stick purely to logic. Where Earth signs are able to make calm and rational decisions, Air signs will agonize over options and often find themselves lost, searching perpetually for a solution with no cracks in it. Hello. I’m an Air sign. :’))
I’m gonna come right out and say it. I hate Aquarius men. Aquarius women and enby folks, they’re great. But Aquarius men? I may, as a Gemini, get along with them in surface level casual conversation, but behind every Aquarius man’s back is a Mal waiting to strangle him the moment I am given the opportunity. I’m so sorry Ray my son but you are not an Aquarius okay. Alright. Well, let’s just talk about the parts of him that do fit Aquarius.
So from the very start Ray is obviously a thinker, someone who considers his options very carefully before he makes a decision, and someone who hates making choices based solely on emotion. In fact, he hates expressing emotions at all. Aquariuses are very good at repressing or hiding their emotions behind other emotions (most air signs are). The most common way to do this is to put up a wall of either numbness or full-on rage. We can see both in Ray.
Instead of showing vulnerability in a healthy way, he would rather do that. Ok cool Ray.
Aquariuses can also be very quiet people, and Ray’s pretty dang quiet for most of the series too. They’re the intellectuals you know are intellectuals even though they aren’t up in your face about it. Their reserved nature makes them 10x scarier when they’re genuinely angry, because boy can an Aquarius rage.
The thing about Aquarius Ray for me here is that while Ray does indeed have Aquarius energy, it’s not the Core of Ray. To me he’s so much more of an Earth sign, so therefore I diagnose Ray with Capricorn.
Compatibility and ships: ok this is a mixed bag again. Now if you got Aquarius Ray then of course he’s compatible with other Air signs (Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius) and Fire signs (Leo, Aries, and Sagittarius), which would make him compatible with Norman and Emma for sure, as well as probably Ayshe for you Rayshe shippers because my personal HC is Aquarius Ayshe.
If you’ve got Capricorn Ray, then Capricorns are compatible with other earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) and their compliment water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio), though they’re best with Cancers and Tauruses. So yes, Anna is a Taurus, which makes Rayanna a compatible pair. But guess who’s a Cancer. Don. ALL MY RAYDON SHIPPERS GET OUT HERE YOU COWARDS IM CALLING YOUR NAME. YOU WIN THE SHIP GAME.
Gilda
Birthdate: May 13th
Sign: Taurus
Element: Earth
Overview: So again with the practical and grounded Earth signs. Tauruses now, are the most stubborn of them, which can be a little irritating at times, but it’s also a great asset when you consider how reliable they truly are. They’re bulls, which makes them solid and difficult to move, and you can always fall back on them when you’ve leapt too far ahead. Gilda is of course the epitome of reliable, and her stubbornness does show through at times—like when she’s the one person against Emma going out into danger all the time, constantly trying to talk her down into a more practical and certain solution. She’s also the first to attempt to bring Emma to see Ray’s side of the escape plan, which is very earth sign of both of them good job guys.
Compatibility and ships: I know I know I’m still upset Gilemma isn’t compatible astrologically but we can talk about other Gilda ships! Tauruses are most compatible with other earth signs (Capricorn, Virgo, and Taurus) and water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces) which makes her compatible with our other lovely Taurus, Anna! Gilanna shippers unite. But they’re best with Cancers and Scorpios, which means Gildon is is at highest compatibility.
Don
Birthdate: July 4th
Sign: Cancer
Element: Water
Overview: HEY YALL ITS TIME TO TALK ABOUT MY LEAST FAVORITE SIGNS: W A T E R. (I’m sorry my water friends, I’m sure you’re lovely, but as an air sign I am always extremely suspicious of water signs at first meeting because our compatibility is so low it might as well not exist) So the water signs are at the absolute highest emotional level. This can make them extraordinarily kind and nurturing, but it can also make them absolutely unreasonable and destructive. None is this more present than in Cancers, one of the most sensitive signs, but also one of the most empathetic. We can tell very clearly in Don that he wears his emotions on his sleeve—he’s unafraid to cry or show his anger, but he also takes very good care of his younger siblings and shows such an intense concern for them that it can become frightening.
He’s such a good boy 🥺
Compatibility and ships: okay so same drill, Cancers are generally compatible with other Water signs (Scorpio, Pisces, and Cancer) as well as Earth signs (Taurus, Capricorn, and Virgo) though their highest compatibility is with Tauruses and Capricorns. So again. GILDON AND RAYDON SHIPPERS R I S E.
God I’m so sorry if I cause a ship war. I rambled for too long and I’m very tired, so you only get these five characters for now. BUT! That’s why it’s a part 1. If you want more please feel free to harass me in my ask inbox about the characters you want me to overanalyze the signs of. Gemini out!
summary: "a single act of love makes the soul return to life." - saint maximillian kolbe (OR: soft moments in the relationship of patton, remus, and virgil, as a birthday gift for the lovely @bumblebeekitten)
a/n: HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEE!!! i give you intrumoxiety being soft little shits
CW: shedding of skin (akin to a snake), nightmare mention, bones, one (1) innuendo, nonsexual nudity
wordcount: 2.7k
ao3 link
“Babe? What - are you doing?”
Virgil, who is busy trying to plan out the best way to strategically approach a nest of wild sirens in the middle of molt to gather their discarded feathers, opens their mouth to reply, and then the low rumbling baritone of their newest lover hits their ears.
“I . . . you’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”
Virgil’s one-of-my-loves-is-on-some-self-deprecating-bullshit-and-requires-reassurance, which they take pride in having almost as fine-tuned as Patton’s, begins klaxon-blaring in their mind. They mark their page and carefully untangle themselves from the web of work they’ve been doing and head into the other room.
Patton is sitting on the kitchen table, swinging (Virgil narrows his eyes at the colored orb charm hanging around Patton’s neck) her legs back and forth, and Remus is standing in front of her, blushing. She has a small wreath of white things in her hair - are those bones? - with a bright jewel studded over her forehead. Remus is holding more small white things in his hands, claw-tipped fingers curled so delicately to avoid shattering them.
“You - I just -”
“Honey, I promise I’m not gonna laugh at you, no matter what,” Patton says. She reaches forward, assortment of rings glinting and clinking as she touches Remus’s face. He lets out a soft rumbly noise and turns his cheek to press into the touch more, gently rubbing his nose against her palm. “We all do stuff that other people think is weird. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Remus flicks his eyes up to look at Virgil, who slow-blinks at him in the clearest nonverbal communication of I love you, you massive idiot they can give. “I . . . uh . . . it’s a weird dragon thing.”
“Re, we’re not gonna be species-ist towards you, that would be super mean and also stupid, considering that no one in this house is human or cisgender,” Virgil says. Remus smiles, hesitant, and then exhales out a puff of gray-black smoke.
“It’s . . . a claiming thing. When dragons get serious about courtships, they . . . combine hoards a little? They’ll pick out choice pieces from their hoards and exchange them. So, by me putting pieces of my bone hoard on you, it’s like . . . me saying that I’m serious about this, and I want it to last.” Virgil reaches out and takes Remus’s hand, not reacting at all when their skin hisses and steams against his. The benefits of having a partner who’s half ice nymph and half selkie, they suppose.
“Don’t I get any bones?” they tease. Remus waggles his eyebrows at them; they promptly drop his hand and smack his shoulder. “Not like that, dirty dragon.”
“Yeah, it’s not fair for only one of us to get fancy bones!” Patton says. “Although I certainly do appreciate this . . . tiara? I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s a tiara.”
“It was supposed to be,” Remus says, kicking the floor. “I got Ro to help me with pickin’ out the gems and stuff. That’s part of what he hoards, so we went and looked for them together. He told me that one’s a moonstone, and I thought, y’know, werewolf, perfect, right? And - and I’m working on something for you, Virge, I just didn’t wanna find anything that screamed VEE to me on that trip, y’know?”
“Well, I absolutely love it,” Patton coos, leaning forward to kiss Remus. “Thank you for the tiara, sweetie!” She pauses. “You cleaned these, right?”
Remus laughs, deep and echoing, and something inside of Virgil uncoils.
*~*~*~*~*
Their skin itches and burns, and someone in front of them is setting their sealskin on fire, and they can hear Patton screaming high and frantic and Remus roaring deep and feral but they can’t move, they’re screaming, convulsing as they burn up with their sealskin and then then then then then -
“Virgil!”
They sit upright, ice flooding around them, and a dark shape looms in the distance and they fling their hand out to cast a massive shard of ice through the heart of their night terror, but the night terror opens its mouth and green fire rolls out like a current, licking along the ice and dissolving it into water without burning anything else. “Virgil,” the night terrors says, and why does Virgil know that voice?
“Virgil,” the voice repeats, lower, and then again, and every time it repeats their name it drops lower and lower until they aren’t so much hearing their name as they are feeling it reverberate in their heaving chest.
The night terror tips its head back and exhales a jet of flames towards the ceiling. It catches on a saucer of oil, spreading down troughs to ignite other saucers spread around the ceiling, and the night terror looks down with fire licking around its teeth and oh, that’s not a night terror at all, it’s Remus. His leathery wings are awkwardly stuck together behind him like he’d just woken up, his hands are up like he’s warding off an attack.
“R - Rem?”
BELOVED, he rumbles, mouth barely moving. Virgil sways a little under the force, blinking as Remus thumps at his chest a little with one hand. ARE YOU WELL?
“I . . . nightmare,” they manage. “Hunters. Hurt you, hurt Patty, stole my skin . . .”
Remus takes a step forward, then another. MAY I APPROACH? Virgil is pretty sure he’s actually speaking Dracon, which would explain the oddly formal address and grammar. They nod, too out of it to speak more, and Remus carefully climbs onto the ice-covered bed. He opens his arms, and they collapse into his chest, shaking.
“Patty?”
ON A NIGHT HUNT WITH HIS PACK, BELOVED. HE WILL RETURN ON THE MORN.
“Oh . . . did I hurt you?”
NO, BELOVED. HOW ELSE MAY I COMFORT YOU?
“My . . . my skin?”
Remus scoops them up into his arms, easily navigating the iced-over bedroom floor and taking them down into the basement. He exhales a plume of blue-green fire into the magical lock, and Virgil leans forward as the door spins and swirls open. The hoard room is full of perfectly-articulated skeletons, bones in cleaning vats, and the other treasures that Remus collects. He navigates through the piles skillfully until he reaches a dark wooden chest with an intricate sapphire-and-golden inlay on the top.
YOUR KEY, BELOVED?
Virgil traces a sigil across the chest, and it glows under their touch. The array lights up with a brilliant violet aura, and the chest pops open. They reach into the chest hurriedly, panic when they don’t feel fur, and then slide their fingers across to the latch that opens the false bottom. They flip open the false bottom and pull out their sealskin, pressing their face into the softness.
Their sealskin is beautiful. It’s black as pitch, studded with flecks of silver and white. Remus hugs them against his chest as they rub their cheek against the fur and inhale the scent of the sea. Remus rumbles underneath them, gently rubbing his face along their hair and neck to gently scent him.
“Thanks,” Virgil says, nearly twenty minutes later, sealskin draped around them like a blanket. “I . . . sorry I woke you.”
“It’s alright,” Remus says, voice hoarse and growly. “I don’t mind. It’s kinda hot when you go batshit, even though I wish you hadn’t had a nightmare.” Virgil snorts, shoving at his chest.
“I can’t believe you slipped into Dracon.” Remus ducks his head in embarrassment.
“Yeah . . . it . . . lots of dragon moms do it to try and soothe rowdy hatchlings back to sleep. I didn’t realize I was doing it until my larynx dropped, and once it goes that far down it takes a while to relax my muscles enough to release it back to normal.”
“I like it,” Virgil murmurs, leaning up to kiss him. “It’s . . . nice.”
Remus rumbles with pleasure and kisses them back.
*~*~*~*~*
“Patton, what are you doing?”
Patton is staring out the window, eyes narrowed, mouth set in a thin line of displeasure. Virgil pauses, arms full of books and random spell components. “I don’t trust that woman.”
“What? What woman?”
Virgil follows their gaze down to the end of the walkway leading up to their cottage, all the way to the woman at their mailbox. “Patton, what -”
“I don’t trust her,” they mutter, ears pinning back in their fluffy hair.
“Patton, she’s the mailwoman. Debra’s been coming here every day for the past seven years.”
“Suspicious.”
“It is literally the opposite of suspicious, you ridiculous werewolf.”
*~*~*~*~*
“Poor baby,” Patton croons, pulling on thick rubber gloves and tying her hair up out of the way. Remus whines, rolling around the kitchen buck-naked. His body is almost completely covered in thick, glistening scales, with few patches of human skin peeking through.
“Why are you naked?” Virgil asks.
“Shedding season,” Remus moans, swiping irritably at his torso. A thick sheet of scales flakes to the ground, and Virgil picks it up. “You can have whatever scales come off if you help me, it itches so baaaaaad!”
Virgil looks at Patton, who’s carrying a bucket of magic salts and a scrub brush towards the bathroom. “You got a spare brush and gloves, Patty?”
“Under the sink!” Virgil is quick to grab the supplies. When they return, Remus is still rolling around the kitchen floor, and Patton is prodding him with her foot.
“Babe, if you don’t get into the tub, I can’t help you feel better. Your dad sent the special salts that your family uses during sheds from the sea caves near your family home.”
“Papa sent them?” Remus’s eyes are wide and liquid, and he almost looks like a hatchling. Virgil bends down and brushes his sweaty hair off his forehead.
“Yeah, Reem. We asked him for the salts and the lotion so that you’d be more comfortable the next time you shed your scales. We know how much you hate the feeling, and we want you to be comfor - mmph!”
Remus grabs the front of their shirt and drags them down into a kiss, brief and passionate. Virgil leans back, mussed and flustered, and Patton leans down and drops a kiss into their hair. “Let’s get you into the bath, mister.”
They finally manage to get Remus into the hot bath, and the moan he lets out when Patton tips the salt into the water is positively lewd. Virgil tugs on the thick gloves and picks up their scrub brush. “I’ll take the left, you take the right?” Patton nods, picking up her rough sponge, and they get to work.
Virgil puts their back into the scrubbing, careful around Remus’s newly healed top surgery scars. They create a transport sigil next to them and pass any large sheets of scales that flake off of Remus through it, sending them to their work desk. Remus wriggles around in the hot water, making it difficult to scrub, but finally his skin is clear and red-pink from scrubbing and the heat.
Remus flops gracefully onto the bed, sighing in relief as he rolls around the soft comforter. Patton pulls off her gloves and picks up a tub of thick, pink goop. “Alright, buddy, it’s time for the lotion.”
“You guys don’t have to do all this,” Remus mumbles, sleepy from his bath. “I know it’s kinda gross.”
“We love you, Remus. It’s no trouble,” Patton says, gently stroking his hair.
“Of course it’s not,” Virgil adds. Remus lets out a low, pleased rumble, and Virgil kisses Patton softly.
Virgil, whose name is sounding more and more like gibberish, even to their own ears, looks up from the sigil they’re constructing to see Remus bouncing eagerly in front of them. “Learn something new?”
“Yeah! Patton’s at the grocery store, can I infodump to you?”
Virgil looks down at the array they’re working on. “Give me two minutes to make sure this sigil won’t explode if I leave it alone, okay? Then you can talk all you want.” Remus nods, sitting down next to them. He’s practically vibrating with happy energy - flapping his hand, tapping his feet, snapping his fingers, rocking and humming. Virgil quickly changes a few of the components of their array, pulls their power out of it, and writes down where they were so they can pick their work up later. “Okay, Remus. Go ahead.”
Remus jumps to his feet and begins pacing around the living room, telling Virgil all about the new deadly creature he’s discovered, and Virgil watches him fondly, smiling.
*~*~*~*~*
“You know how Pat has his bone tiara?”
“Yeah?”
Remus reaches into the pouch at his waist and offers something to Virgil. “For you!” Virgil takes the token from his hands, gasping when it comes into view. It’s a necklace with a braided leather cord and a dangling pendant. The pendant is painstakingly constructed of dozens of tiny bones, all arranged and articulated to form an ornate snowflake. In the very center is a gleaming piece of icy pale blue-green topaz, carved into a hexagonal facet.
“You . . . you made this?”
“Yep! I - do you not like it?”
Virgil stares at the necklace, running their fingers over the edges of the snowflake and the ice-cold smoothness of the gem. They slip the pendant over their head with trembling fingers before dragging Remus into a kiss. “Bedroom, now.”
“As you wish,” Remus purrs, scooping them into his arms.
*~*~*~*~*
Virgil tightens their grip on the strap of their messenger bag as the gates swing open, revealing a tall, imposing figure. Half of his face is covered in glittering golden-green scales, and one eye is a golden brown with a slitted pupil; the other is dark brown, almost black. He wears a long-sleeved golden dress that falls to the floor, intricately embroidered with dragons and flames along the hem, and his wings are fanned loosely around him.
“Papa!” Remus crows, sprinting up and leaping towards the figure. He catches him, managing to make it look elegant as he hugs Remus close and rubs his back with a small smile. Remus and his father press their foreheads together, rumbling softly, before Remus hops down. “Virgey, Patton, this is my papa! Papa, these are my loves!”
Virgil flushes, seeing Patton go pale pink beside them, as Remus’s father comes forward and extends a hand. “You may call me Janus. It is a pleasure to formally meet you. My son speaks quite highly of you.”
Virgil shakes his hand. “The pleasure is all ours, sir. Thank you for letting us use the private beach on your estate.” Janus smiles as he shakes Patton’s hand.
“Anyone so highly beloved of my son is always welcome on our family’s ancestral home.” His eyes linger on the bone tiara and pendant before turning to Remus and asking him a low, rapidfire question in a tongue Virgil doesn’t speak. Remus turns redder than Virgil’s ever seen him and spits back a swift response, and Janus laughs.
“The path to the beach is that way. When you are done, I will have a meal prepared in the house. Take your time. The weather will be favorable today.”
Remus grabs their hands and drags them down towards the sea. “What did your dad say to you?”
“He’s just being embarrassing,” Remus mutters.
“Must have been serious if it embarrassed you,” Patton teases.
“Shut up!”
They crest the cliff and spot the sea, and all of Virgil’s teasing leaves them in one breath. It’s beautiful, and the longer they stare at it and smell the salt water, the stronger the call of the ocean in their bones.
Remus goes flying down the stairs, dropping his bag in the sand and shedding all of his clothes to reveal a lime green speedo. Patton takes a little more care, spreading out the towels and setting up the umbrella, before carefully taking off their tiara and clothes and transforming into a wolf with a fluid, rippling motion. They leap into the water as Virgil descends to the beach. They set down their bag, strip down, and carefully tuck their pendant in a pocket of their bag before reaching in and pulling out their sealskin. They take a moment to watch the way the sun glitters on the ocean’s surface, listening to the crash of the waves and the call of the gulls and the shrieking laughter of Remus and Patton’s joyful barks.
Then, they wrap their sealskin around their shoulders and join their loves in the sea.
A list of fandoms I'm in (in no particular order, will probably be updated regularly. Some fandoms are more intense and some are more casual. Depending on the fandom, I could go on and on about fandom topics for HOURS. Let's get into it!)
Harry Potter, Disney, Marvel, DC comics, Miraculous Ladybug, Avatar: The Last Airbender/The Legend of Korra, Star Wars, Literature, Winx Club, Nintendo, Minecraft, Little Witch Academia, Voltron, Coraline
Details:
Harry Potter- I got into Harry Potter in 7th grade and now I am the resident expert in my family and in my friend group. I read all the books, watched all the movies (notably the British version), and I've seen the Fantastic Beasts films as well. I've also read Tales of Beedle the Bard (the Warlock's Hairy Heart was traumatizing) along with the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them textbook (plus an updated edition). I also read The Cursed Child script and while I mean no hate to anyone that liked it, I hated what it did to the canon. I am in Hufflepuff with some Ravenclaw tendencies (I took the Pottermore quiz 3 times, 2 out of 3 I got Hufflepuff, the other time was Ravenclaw). I had a pottermore account and I was so upset when it got converted to the Wizarding World page. I cosplayed Hermione in 7th grade complete with British accent and even monologued as her for a talent show (classmates and teachers would recognize me as the Hermione girl all the way through high school). I was obsessed and I still love it even if J.K. Rowling has gone off the deep end on Twitter... yeah... my favorite character is Hermione but I also relate to Luna
Disney- there's so much that goes into the Disney part of my fandom list. I'm excluding Marvel and Star Wars from this part as they were originally separate entities before Disney got the rights to them. I have seen almost every animated Disney film ever and often use random movie quotes in conversation. My favorite villain is Maleficent, my favorite princess is Ariel (followed by Belle, Rapunzel, and Anna). I relate to so many of the characters. I'm not sure who my favorite Pixar character is though (I love Violet, Sadness, Dory, and Piper (from the short)). My favorite Disney fairy is Fawn. My favorite characters overall are Ariel and Stitch. Disney is definitely on the list as one of my biggest obsessions. My favorite movies are Lilo and Stitch, the Little Mermaid, Inside Out, Alice in Wonderland (original), and The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh.
Marvel- I mostly get my Marvel exposure through the MCU, other movies, and animated TV shows. I have difficulty reading graphic novels so most of my comic book knowledge comes from friends, posts, or wikis. My favorite characters are Spider-Man, Captain America, Peggy Carter, and Scarlet Witch. I also like Gwenpool, Deadpool, Spider-Gwen/ Ghost-Spider, Venom, Squirrel Girl, Daredevil, Mantis, Gamora, Black Widow, Iron Man, Thor, Loki, Bucky, Black Panther, and most MCU characters. Out of the X-men I really like Professor X, Wolverine, Mystique, Magneto, Nightcrawler, and Quicksilver (either version- MCU or Fox).
DC- this was the franchise I was more familiar with growing up but again, graphic novels aren't easy for me to read so most of my knowledge comes from information pages about the comics or from tv/movies. My earliest experience with DC came from the 60s Batman series, with Catwoman and Robin being my favorites. I also watched the Wonder Woman series from the 70s and a handful of CW shows, my favorite of which being the Flash and Arrow. I also managed to watch all 5 seasons of the Teen Titans Cartoon Network series from 2003. With that being said, my favorite characters are Wonder Woman, Catwoman, Flash, Batman, Nightwing/Robin (Dick Grayson), Green Arrow, Starfire, Raven, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Alfred. I also like most of the bat family, and when it comes to CW I LOVE Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost and Cisco.
Miraculous- this is one of my guilty fandoms but since this is Tumblr I'm not too worried about it. I love Marinette and I relate to her on an astoundingly deep level (minus the stalking and obsession with potential lovers, that's creepy). If I had a miraculous, I'd probably want the Ladybug one, but the Cat miraculous, fox miraculous, and snake miraculous are good too. My favorite character is Marinette/Ladybug.
Atla/Tlok- I jumped on the avatar bandwagon just when it was starting to get popular, so I managed to get through the series before the memes took over everything. Same with Tlok, although i couldn't completely avoid the spoilers for that when i started it. I've been wanting to get into the comics because of the short story comics I've read, they seem easier to read than superhero comics. My favorite characters are Aang, Katara, Ty Lee, Iroh, Korra, Jinora, Asami, Suki, Appa, Momo, Naga, and Pabu. I also like Sokka, Mai, Zuko, Lin, Kuvira, Varrick, Zhu Lee, and Azula. I feel really sorry for her and while I understand that a redemption arc would undermine the importance of her corruption arc, I still wish she could have one. I would love to be a waterbender or an airbender... maybe a waterbender raised in the air nation? Obviously, being the avatar itself would be awesome. The show has taught me a lot of great lessons and put a lot of stuff into perspective for me.
Star Wars- oh boy, talking about this one is dangerous. I've seen firsthand the horrors of the Star Wars fandom but then again no one will probably see this anyway so... I've seen all the movies and I remember watching the clone wars series with my brother when I was younger but we fell wayyy behind and it's taking us forever to get back into it. I've also seen the Mandalorian and quite enjoyed it. I like the prequels unironically, in fact, the prequels are some of my favorite movies. I especially like how they switched from lightsabers being heavy weapons to light weapons that can be used for all kinds of tricks that make for epic battles like the ones we see in Revenge of the Sith. The sequels were fun to watch but when I would analyze them along side their predecessors, I came to the conclusion that, for me, they were good to watch but did not do anything good for the rest of the franchise. My favorite characters are prequels/clone wars Obi Wan and Anakin, Padme, Ashoka, Leia, R2D2, BB-8, R4-P17, the Mandalorian (Din Djarin), and Grogu. If I had a lightsaber I'd want it to be blue, but when I was little I got a purple one like Mace Windu because it was closer to pink and I was into pink at the time. I still have that lightsaber and none of my friends have a purple one so it's one of my flexes. I feel like I wouldn't make a good jedi because of attachments being forbidden, so I'd probably become a grey jedi.
Literature- this is a broad term I use to cover all the random books and stories I liked reading and have studied. So we have Shakespeare (Macbeth, Much Ado About Nothing, Romeo and Juliet), The Great Gatsby (bored while reading, loved to analyze), Grendel (HATED reading, loved to analyze, Grendel really needed a hug and a friend), The Crucible, Fahrenheit 451, Dark Life (+ the sequel Riptide, both are by Kat Falls good reads, sci-fi and kind of dystopian), The Once and Future King
Winx Club- I think the show is trashy but I still love watching it. I haven't been able to get through season 6 though and I hated what they did with season 8 and Fate: the Winx Saga. My favorite character is Bloom along with Stella and Flora. I prefer rai to nick. My favorite transformations are magic winx, enchantix, and harmonix. My favorite member of the Trix is Icy followed by Darcy. My favorite Pixies are Chatta and Lockette.
Nintendo- mainly Pokémon above all else, followed by Animal Crossing. I have also played (mostly as player 2 or just never beat or watched my brother play) mario games, legend of zelda, pikmin, and kirby. Games I haven't played but I just liked the characters/the lore and probably learned about through Super Smash Bros. are Fire Emblem (Lucina mostly), Metroid (Samus and baby metroid), and Kid Icarus. Pokémon is where I'm most knowledgeable but you'll most likely beat me in battle. I am however great at MarioKart and I always destroy my friends at it. Terrible at fighting games though.
Minecraft- I like playing this casually. Sure, I'll play for hours and hours on end for months, but I prefer to stay exclusively in peaceful when playing Survival mode and I don't make anything too ambitious in Creative mode. I like to write, so sometimes I'll make a rough layout of the settings of my stories in different worlds. I prefer interior design and decorating when building, and when in survival mode I focus more on mining and gathering while my brother works on ambitious building projects. I just bring him the raw materials and furnish the interior when he finishes the outside.
Little Witch Academia- this takes up a smaller portion of my fandom list because there were only 2 seasons and a couple movies and I watched the whole series years ago, but I still enjoy it. At one point I wanted to cosplay Akko, and I loved the nod at Twilight through the Nightfall series. And I especially liked the twist that Shiny Chariot was Ursula, which I suspected for some time. The blend between magic and technology was fun to see, but I was so sad that the series ended RIGHT when Akko finally showed signs of magic proficiency. Also, Shiny Chariot being the reason Akko couldn't do magic was heartbreaking.
Voltron- this takes up a much smaller portion of my fandom list mainly because I haven't even finished it. I know hardly anything about Transformers aside from the Bumblebee movie so to me I just watch it for fun. It reminds me of power rangers, star wars, and star trek, and then there's just a transformer insert. But I don't know anything about Transformers so maybe the show is more rooted in canon than I think.
Coraline- I am in a love-hate relationship with Coraline. I have watched the movie several times, I've read the book, I've watched hours of theories and analyses on youtube, I've watched behind the scenes videos by Laika, and I even wrote a script for a fan film parody. I am amazed at how original the story is and how impressive the stop motion animation is but I also have recurring nightmares from it and it scares me/creeps me out to the max. If anyone asks what my scariness limit is, it's definitely Coraline.
