#dome colony au

[novantinuum]

[Updated 11/06/24]

I've written a kinda ridiculous amount of content for this fandom at this point, so this post is intended as a fun way to organize all that content on this blog. I'll update this post periodically as I share more works.

Most of my works are gen fic- with a heavy focus on character study and "bridging the gaps" of canon with lil bonus scenes of what I feel certain characters might've been up to in between episodes. However, I do on occasion enjoy exploring the Connverse relationship dynamic... and actual ratings for my stories vary.

Ratings and pairings will be listed on this masterpost, as well as any particularly vital content warnings. For more thorough content warnings, please reference the tags on the linked AO3 listings.

~~~

Multichapter AUs:

Crack The Paragon Series

Series Summary:

In the wake of an ill-fated discovery, Steven vies to pick up all the pieces. The Gems are in turmoil: Pearl can’t speak the truth, Garnet chose to separate, and Amethyst's confidence has hit rock bottom. Somehow, his mom is Pink Diamond. But what exactly does that mean for him? Why did his mom really choose to fake-shatter herself and obscure her identity? With the very foundation of his home life shifting around him, can Steven ever hope to find answers on his own? Or will his growing obsession with seeking this truth ultimately crack his world all over again? Canon divergent as of season 3 episode 20, Bismuth.

Stories:

Crack the Paragon- 70,705 words, 14/41 chapters. Rated T. Light Steven/Connie.

In another world, he doesn't have his mother's sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops. Steven falls apart.

Content warning: Major character injury.

Everything Is Different Now- 1,014 words. Rated G.

After her unfortunate exile, Bismuth returns to her forge to work, and to reflect on her mistakes.

Seeing Pink- 2,475 words. Rated G.

Following a video call with Connie, Steven reacts to the discovery that... his eyes aren’t always human anymore.

Misalignment- 16,680 words, 20/? chapters. Rated T.

His family’s not present the third time he runs away... They never see the creature he becomes. Early corruption AU.

Content warning: Minor body horror.

Hollowed Moon- 8,046 words, 14/? chapters. Rated T.

Stevonnie doesn't crash the Star Skipper onto that jungle moon. Instead, they crash on a craggy fragment of rock suspended thousands of miles away from its associated colony, long forgotten. On that lonely hunk of rock is a domed garden. And standing in that garden, just as lifeless seeming as the rest of it, is a pink Gem.

~~~

Other AU/Non-Canon Works:

For the purpose of organization, this section contains two fics that have since had elements of it debunked by Steven Universe: Future. However, said fics were written to be "canon compliant" at the time of posting... thus, on AO3, they still are listed within my "canon compliant" series.

Shattering Atlas- 4,274 words. Rated T.

A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much. (Written about the Corrupted Steven Theory, long before SUF's airing.)

Content warning: Depression, body horror.

The Price of Freedom- 791 words. Rated T.

Even while sightless, even when she only exists as thin fingers of light rapidly spreading outwards from her gem, Rose can sense that something is deeply, dreadfully wrong. Written for Whumptober 2020, Day 1: Waking up restrained.

Bi the Way...- 2,886 words. Rated T. Steven/Connie.

Connie has a question, and also something to say.

(Originally written to be canon compliant after the movie, debunked by Steven and Connie not officially getting together until the end of Steven Universe: Future.)

Errands- 3,034 words. Rated T.

Steven has an endless stream of items on his to-do list, so many that he often forgets to properly take care of himself in between. Sneaking off into the woods on the daily to vent out his repressed emotions is merely one of them.

(Originally written to fit between Snow Day and Little Graduation, but the back half of Steven Universe: Future strongly suggested that Steven did not visit Jasper in between the events of Little Homeschool and Fragments, thus I consider it debunked.)

~~~

Canon Compliant Works:

This part of the list contains almost everything within my "Brandishing the Star: A Crystal Gem's Guide to the Universe" fic series on AO3. Fics are listed chronologically.

Tipping Point- 1,104 words. Rated G.

Garnet helps remind Rose of what she's fighting for.

New Star- 1,321 words. Rated G.

Organic life is a fragile, fickle thing. This much is true. What's also true is how the death and resurrection of a humble lion was enough to make Rose Quartz re-conceptualize everything.

On the Origin of Hybrids- 1,684 words. Rated G.

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night. In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

His Shield- 334 words. Rated G.

Greg attempts to comfort his son during a thunderstorm.

Donut Debrief- 1,578 words. Rated G.

And like a burst of sunshine emerging from between the murky grey clouds, the young boy swings the door open wide, face alight with a level of enthusiasm that before, she didn’t even think was humanly possible on an overcast Monday morning. Two days after their disastrous island adventure, Sadie and Steven talk about regrets, making amends, and discover something they have in common with each other.

Autumn Bliss- 546 words. Rated G. Light Steven/Connie.

Is there any better way to spend a crisp autumn day than playing around in piles of leaves? Written for Connvember, day 1.

Alienation- 1,151 words. Rated G.

“But... I’m human,” he whispers to himself, the words tasting more like a desperate plea for belief on his tongue. “Or at least, part human. Right?” - An awkward interaction with his dad and Connie leads Steven to realize that he's now too Gem to all the humans in his life.

Ramen Soup For the Soul- 263 words. Rated G.

Steven and Connie noisily slurp some soup at the dinner table.

Creative Outlet- 837 words. Rated G.

“Log date, 7 14 9. “Today, the hybrid creature Steven attempted to further secure my loyalty by introducing me to a concept he calls... ‘music.’

Taste of Ordinary- 12,756 words. 2/3 chapters. Rated G. Light Steven/Connie.

"Connie, can we talk?" When a much needed moonlight conversation with his best friend turns into an attempted (and failed) "spring break" from all his responsibilities as a half-Gem, Steven must finally come to terms with the full truth of his heritage and all six thousand years of its consequences. Takes place between The Question and Made of Honor.

Outer Strife- 4,282 words. Rated T.

Connie clenches her fists at her sides, envisioning a world where she still feels the safe, comforting weight of Rose’s sword strapped upon her back. But instead, it’s the Crystal Gems’ darkest, most forlorn hour... and she’s absolutely useless to them. Is there anything she can do to aid them in this struggle, anything at all? (Or: the beach fight in Reunited, but from Connie's POV.)

Content warning: Panic attacks

Ballroom Etiquette- 2,809 words. Rated G.

As much as it pains him to admit it amidst all the boring protocol, Pearl is absolutely right. There’s no room for imperfection at a Homeworld Ball. In which Steven is publicly introduced to the Gems of Homeworld as Pink Diamond, and he experiences the first true stage fright of his life.

Finally Free- 1,653 words. Rated G.

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

Vulnerable- 730 words. Rated G.

Three words. Three little words, and the intergalactic conflict he‘d been training his whole childhood to defend against was over. But the hurt... he's not sure the hurt will ever go away.

Fifteen- 1,607 words. Rated G.

Every year, on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Pearl runs away.

Cycles- 1,216 words. Rated G.

Amidst their danger-fraught mission to retrieve Pyrope and Demantoid's prisms, Pearl and Steven take a much needed break.

Freedom to Dance- 382 words. Rated G.

Stevonnie celebrates the first anniversary of Era 3 with their friends and reflects on how Homeworld has already changed.

Stardust- 618 words. Rated G.

White Diamond is testing out new terms of endearment. But no matter White’s intention with this little nickname, Steven doesn’t want it.

Contact- 16,002 words. 4/4 chapters. Rated T.

The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

Content warning: Major character injury.

Disconnected- 993 words. Rated T.

“What’s going on—?” he croaks to absolutely no one (weakened, vulnerable, alone, pathetic—), a jolt of fresh panic surging through his entire system. He’s never seen a gem flicker before. He has no idea what this means.

The Shatter Wish- 1,045 words. Rated T.

You’re 16 years and 2 months old (give or take a few days) when you finally realize you want to die. - (Steven's POV, second person)

Content warning: Depression, suicidal ideation.

Second Skin- 9,272 words. 12/12 chapters. Rated T.

Steven can’t help but dread the undefined cocktail of emotions that trigger this newest power... 12 shorts, each delving into Steven’s developing opinions and feelings about his “pink mode” in SUF.

Content warning: Light self harm, panic attacks

The Brother on the Other Side- 2,978 words. Rated T.

Lars has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him in the middle of the night to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

White Noise- 1,766 words. Rated T.

In which Steven opens up to Peridot a little about his anxieties surrounding his recent “pink episodes.” Peridot thinks she can help him determine the root cause of this problem, but Steven— marooned amidst age-old insecurities and his fears of hurting those he loves— still isn’t convinced he wants anyone’s help.

Content warning: Panic attacks

Like Clockwork- 509 words. Rated T.

Connie's got mountains of studying to do. (It's not just an excuse to avoid reminders of old traumas, of course it's not! Everything's fine.)

Fight the Future- 3,604 words. Rated T.

She’s poofed, he repeats to himself like a dying man’s mantra. She’s poofed. She’s stuck in the rubble, but she’s only poofed. She’s fine, and I’m fine, a-and— Above the scars of Steven's wreckage, thunder claps like mighty titans colliding in the heavens. (Or: what happens in the moments after Steven and Jasper's rematch.)

Oceans- 5,358 words. 6/6 chapters. Rated T.

Her fingers clutch onto the folds of his blanket with a protective fervor, but they’re still trembling. Stars, they’re trembling. Wordlessly, he understands. His are too. - A series of shorts detailing what might've happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Memoir of the Marks Unseen- 6,786 words. Rated T. Light Steven/Connie.

Steven’s messy self-corruption has scarred him in a manner that transcends the mere physical. Battling through suffocating waves of self-loathing and relapse, the path towards healing and acceptance is set to be his most challenging venture yet… but in a unexpected twist of fate, he eventually comes to find a cathartic solace in the tangible marks left behind.

Content warning: Depression, light body horror.

Intake- 6,427 words. 2/2 chapters. Rated T.

Steven fills out an important form.

Content warning: Depression, suicidal ideation.

Fear of Falling Apart- 1,961 words. Rated T.

Maybe it’s a bit selfish to wish for conflict in a time of relative peace, but right now Connie would give anything to face an opponent she could physically fight. A battle she could win. Because the fact of the matter is, no matter how stubbornly she might try, there’s no way she can fight off Steven’s inner demons for him. - In which Connie receives a panicked midnight phone call, and rushes to Beach City with Lion to try and help.

Content warning: Light body horror.

Ticklish- 2,675 words. Rated T. Steven/Connie.

In which Connie’s subconscious, innocent touch helps Steven realize just how nice the sensation of gentle fingertips gliding across the surface of one’s gem can be.

No Escape From the Weather- 5,756 words. Rated T.

Amidst an unusually stormy late summer’s day, Steven finally amasses the courage to confide in his dad about one of his greatest traumas.

Content warning: Panic attacks

Just a Little Something- 1,486 words. Rated T. Steven/Connie.

Steven surprises Connie with a handmade gift. Written for Glow Week 2024, for the prompt "Casual or Surprise."

(Our) Shadows Before the Dawn- 957 words. Rated T. Steven/Connie.

It's their nights that are the most difficult.

Content warning: Panic attacks

Advocate- 5,472 words. Rated T.

There’s more to this story, Lars can feel it brimming in his very bones. He can feel it squirming around in the tangled coils of his guts, a primal, virulent rot that threatens to consume him from the inside out. Something is off with Steven, something is distinctly wrong. And oh, does he hate being right. - When an unexpected visitor tumbles through the magic portal in his hair long after hours, breathless and bright pink, Lars must amass the courage to weather one of the most difficult conversations of his life.

Content warning: Depression, mentioned suicide attempt, panic attacks.

Tides of Renewal- 2,559 words. Rated T.

Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Nightlight- 1,364 words. Rated T. Steven/Connie.

“So, wait— what you’re saying is that you want me… to glow for you—?” - In which a drowsy, throwaway comment inspires Steven to— fueled by Connie’s implicit trust and encouragement— test the very limits of his self-restraint.

~~~

OC Works:

This subsection is the home for any fics I post in my post-canon OC-centric series, "Echoes of Chalcedony." It follows the story of a young half-Gem named Jean Maverick and their journey towards learning about the Gem side of their heritage.

First Impressions- 11,026 words. 3/4 chapters. Rated T.

A young human-Gem hybrid- a soul yet unknown to the rest of the Crystal Gems- takes their first brave steps towards greeting their heritage firsthand.

~~~

NSFW Works:

Fics in this section will be posted on my NSFW AO3 alt, Astraliies. I personally consider some of them "canon" to my own extended fic universe, but they will not be sorted as official entries in my "Brandishing the Star" series due to rating.

It Takes Two- 2,865 words. Rated M. Steven/Connie.

It’s possible. The timing lines up. What Connie fears is one hundred percent possible. The problem is, a potential pregnancy this early into their relationship was absolutely not in their plans.

Content warning: Contains frank discussion of underage sex. Connie is 17.

knowing, loving, being- 21,450 words. 3/4 chapters. Rated E. Stevencest, Steven/Connie.

A uniquely charged encounter in Rose’s Room forces Steven to contend with matters of attraction and desire he never could have predicted for himself. To what extreme is he willing to journey in fulfilling these burgeoning fantasies? And in what ways will such an experience forever transform him? (One thing’s for sure, though… once Connie’s brought into the loop, the most intimate dynamics of their marriage will never be the same.)

Content warning: Selfcest, explicit sexual content

Love Handles- 7,178 words. Rated E. Steven/Connie.

In which a stray, innocuous comment from Connie pushes Steven to dedicate the bulk of his free time to ‘getting into shape.’ But when new stressors rise to challenge him, he begins to struggle to maintain this leaner, more muscular form for her. Not only that, but is this even the kind of body he desires for himself in the first place?

Content warning: Explicit sexual content, feeding kink

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 16

Today's ficlet is a Stuckony post-zombie-apocalyptic AU!

Dec 16 - Stuckony - Post-Apocalyptic AU - Stars

Bucky found Tony sitting on the roof, leaning against the chimney for warmth and looking up at the sky. There was still a soft pinkish glow against the western horizon, and the darkness above them was slowly filling with stars.

“You okay?” He crouched next to Tony. “Steve was worried that you might’ve taken a hit during the swarm.”

“No,” Tony said. He shifted to the side a little, patting the space to invite Bucky to join him, but his eyes didn’t lower from the skies. “Bruce checked me out and everything.”

Bucky settled carefully onto the wooden slats and wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Slight as he was, Tony was always cold. Bucky felt Tony’s shiver as he snuggled close, and made a mental note to tell Steve that they needed to come up with an excuse to put Tony in the middle of the bed more often.

“We used to know things,” Tony said, after a moment. “About the stars, I mean. And the planets.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. He and Steve had been alive before the Plague, and had volunteered to go into cryostasis when it began to become certain that no cure would be found. But in the chaos of the times, the chambers had been forgotten, their locations lost. When they’d finally been found, some seventy years later, the stasis chambers had begun to fail for lack of maintenance, and the sleepers had been awoken, while it was still possible. They’d emerged to a completely different world.

Sometimes he envied Tony, for having never known any other kind of life. Sometimes he wished he and Steve had been among the two-thirds of stasis sleepers who’d never woken up, their chambers too degraded to manage the thaw properly.

“My father used to tell me that his dad told him that we sent ships up into the sky. Colony ships, in case the Plague made this planet unlivable. Is that true?”

Steve had known Tony’s grandfather, a little, but Tony’s father hadn’t been born until after the first Wall had been raised against the swarms.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted. “Cryo was tested and ready to go, so that’s what we decided. There was talk about colony ships, but I don’t know if they ever actually got built and launched. No reason not to believe it, I guess, if that’s what your grandad said.”

They sat in silence, then, watching the night grow darker, far darker than it had ever been in Bucky’s youth. The Milky Way poured across the dome of the sky as the stars burned bright and clear.

After a while, Steve came to join them. At Bucky’s look, he settled on Tony’s other side. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” Bucky said, when Tony failed to answer. “We’re just stargazing.”

“Pretty,” Steve admitted, following Tony’s gaze upward. “Not much use to us, these days. But they are pretty.”

“Pretty’s enough, sometimes,” Bucky said, and tried to lighten the mood a little. “It’s what we keep you around for, after all.”

Steve snorted, but Tony didn’t react.

“Those colony ships,” he said slowly. “The ones that left. Do you think... if they found a place that was good, do you think they’d come back for us?”

Steve considered it. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. Not much sense worrying about it, though, is there, sweetheart? Not much we can do, either way.”

“Guess not,” Tony said, his eyes still fixed on the stars.

Steve nudged him. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?” he wondered.

Tony turned his head, finally, to look at Steve, and then at Bucky, before he tipped his face back up to the sky. “There’s a new star up there, the last few nights. It’s not moving like a star or a planet or even a comet. And I think... I think it might be something good.”

[adsmpgemau]

(subject to edits still)

(this au ties in with THREE other YouTuber gem aus)

Dream: white diamond -is the smallest of four diamonds- Gem center of his chest.

All dsmp memebers are meant to be in Whites court, all of the 'dsmp' takes place on Dreams first colony. The colony consists of one main planet that has three moons orbiting it. One moon is a communications center, one is currently empty besides one building and warp, and one is a massive garden. The main planet is based on the game MC, with focus on the mushroom biome and the mooshroom, as well as the other MC mobs that are part fungus. The first moon is very similar to the nether, red rock and teeming with lava, there is still some small life here, mostly stone based creatures and suggestions that spores from the main planet found their way to this moon via warping gems. The second moon is very similar to the end with yellowish-white stone, it's barren with little to no atmosphere, and has several satellite dishes and warp pads that take gems to other planets. The third and final moon is small, and mostly covered with a few domes that contain plants from the colonizing planet in order to further study the life that currently resides on the planet.

Dsmp members, their gem type, and purpose are stated below!

Dreams high court (in rough ranking):

George: Cinnabrite - high ranking gem and close confident of Dream. Spore creation abilities.

Puffy: Pink Opal - Pilot and close confident of Dream.

Bad: Era 1 Fire Opal - high ranking soldier gem

Karl: Purple Sapphire - the colony sapphire.

Kristin: Violet Agate - the colony agate.

Sapnap: Era 2 Fire Opal - high ranking soldier gem

---

Various high ranking gems:

Eret: Rhodenite. Diplomatic Gem.

Schlatt: snowflake obsidian. Diplomatic Gem.

Ponk: yellow jade. Biologist Gem. Tends to Dreams Garden Moon and studies the colonies plant life.

Punz: Pyrite Quartz. Diplomatic Gem.

---

Other gems on the colony planet:

Fundy: Gold Pearl- Dreams pearl.

Skeppy: era 2 Blue Spinal. Dreams jester/court entertainer.

Sam: Chrysoprase (green with black flecks) Architect gem.

Philza: era 1 Lapis - terraformer

Quackity: era 2 Lapis - terraformer

Wilbur: era 2 Lapis - terraformer

((Ghostbur: cracked Wilbur

Revivedbur: healed Wilbur))

Techno: Pink Topaz - Soldier gem. A 'perfect soldier' 'perfect cut' gem.

Tommy: Crimson Pearl - Technos Pearl

Tubbo: Overcooked Emerald. Mechanic/inventor gem. Created on Dreams colony.

Ranboo: Bloodstone - Ranboo is an offcolor permafusion of two gems who 'belong' to Eret. Eret allows them to fuse for the purpose of protection and they do pass as a genuine bloodstone to those who are not familiar with non-fused/natural bloodstones.

Ran: Skinny Green Jasper - Erets gaurd.

Boo: Red Hematite - Erets ship pilot.

Nicki: Rose Quartz - Erets guard.

Jack: Elbaite Tourmaline

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (16-22 Jun 2024)

fuck this heat dome for reals

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 The Settler (charlesdk) - Stucky Book Club pick - 52K, shrunkyclunks, Steve retires & buys a farm, Bucky's the local baker. I really enjoyed this fic - though it is unrealistic fantasy about both small towns and owning a farm so YMMV. As I said in book club, I didn't have any problems doing the hand-wavey "escapist unbelievable small town/farm fantasy of it all" bc Steve's feelings & character were more my (and the author's) focus than his occupation & location. You could really feel Steve's exhaustion and emotions, and I loved the way Sam & Natasha were shown-not-just-told as his family. But also I don't have any deep personal resonance with this setting, other than recognizing it's unrealistic.

🥰 The Marlow Murder Club (The Marlow Murder Club #1) (Robert Thorogood, author; Nicolette McKenzie, narrator) - really entertaining small British village cozy mystery with very enjoyable characters. Had such a blast reading it! The mystery puzzle wasn't difficult to guess but that's not why I read cozies, and it was satisfactory in its twists & turns & fair play.

🥰 Civilians, GDI (relenafanel) - I love it when an author writes an AU of their own fic! AU of The Steve Rogers Problem with SHIELD agent!Bucky & actor!Steve except this time it's a meet ugly and Bucky's a dumbass about his own feelings

😊 The Theory Of Attraction (Delphine Dryden) - novella - good femsub D/s rec'd by the discord. Very satisfactory.

😊 Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age (Annalee Newitz, author; Chloe Cannon, narrator) - nonfiction; "explores the rise and fall of four ancient abandoned cities, each the center of a sophisticated civilization: the Neolithic site of Çatalhöyük in Central Turkey, the Roman vacation town of Pompeii on Italy’s southern coast, the medieval megacity of Angkor in Cambodia, and the indigenous metropolis Cahokia that stood beside the Mississippi River where East St. Louis is today." really interesting and well told (although tbh the narrator sounded a bit AI (but definitely wasn't))

🙂 The Pure and Simple Truth (lettered) - 65K, ostensibly drarry (but in the way that lacroix is ostensibly fruit flavored) - really about all the friendships & how people, the world, and redemption are all complicated - another discord server rec

🥰 Death Comes to Marlow (The Marlow Murder Club #2) (Robert Thorogood, author; Nicolette McKenzie, narrator) - enjoyed Judith & her 'gang' so much I went back for more ASAP!

💖💖 +127K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Like herding cats (JehBeeEh) - Rachel Reid's Game Changers series: Troy/Harris, Ilya/Shane, 1.5K - short but very cute; perfect character voices - love a well done text fic like this

My Heart Comes Tumbling Down (DevilDoll) - TW: Sterek, 5K - reread, forever fave - peak oblivious Stiles who almost fucks everything up

All that I know is I don't know a thing (emjee (MerryHeart)) - TOG: Kaysanova, 10K - "In which Nicky's at seminary because he likes to argue, not because he's becoming a priest, and Joe has missed this essential fact and can't figure out why this future-priest-slash-bartender is flirting with him." SO GOOD!

Beltane (DevilDoll) - TW: Sterek, 8K - reread, forever fave - always-magical-Stiles AU

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Doctor Who - s1 (series 14), e7

Game Changer - s6, e9

Um, Actually - s9, e9

Smartypants - s1, e5

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

What Next: TBD - The FBI Made a Phone Network. It Was A Trap.

NPR's Book of the Day - Questlove maps a cultural revolution in 'Hip-Hop is History'

Re: Dracula - June 17: Die Away in the Distance

Consider This - 25 years on, 'Boys Don't Cry' remains a milestone in trans cinema

⭐ Working - How a Colonial Williamsburg Actor Humanizes History

⭐ The Atlas Obscura Podcast - America’s First Celebrity Bartender And The Book That Changed Bars Forever

Pop Culture Happy Hour - It's getting hot. So what's sweatiest movie ever made?

WikiHole - Bay Area Music (with W. Kamau Bell, Guy Branum and Aparna Nancherla)

Re: Dracula - June 18: Turned his Mind

Short Wave - What 'Inside Out 2' Got Right About Anxiety, Per A Psychologist

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - The Last Baldwin House

Vibe Check - Yesterday’s Price Isn’t Today’s Price featuring Lena Waithe

⭐ Switched on Pop - Bootsy Collins is gonna funk you up (with Bootsy Collins)

Here & Now Anytime - How jazz icon Duke Ellington helped change America

⭐ Storylines - What The Puck? The strange story of a decades-old hockey rumour

99% Invisible #586 - Category 6

Wild Card - Taylor Tomlinson is fine with being 'perpetually afraid'

Shedunnit - Murder in the Library

Shedunnit - Bonus: Harriet Evans Interview

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - The Start of a Language

⭐ It's Been a Minute - Fouling Caitlin Clark; plus, a shoplifting panic!

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Fleetwood Mac Radio • Upbeat

Stereophonic (Original Cast Recording)

We Are Lady Parts (Music From The Original Series - Seasons 1 & 2)

Meet Me @ the Altar

Bootsy Collins radio

Duke Ellington

Dance Party Hits

Survivor Radio • Deep cuts

No Vocals EDM

Bass Haven

[lions-ut-blog]

Drifter Revolver: Songs and Mishaps Part 2

A green dome appears around Melody, stopping the attack. "Huh?" Samantha looks at the dome. "Took you long enough, Redrix!" An intense pillar of fire burns the creature's arm off as it bellows in agony. Redrix walks out of the pillar onto a beast with a smirk. "It was a hassle following you, Samantha." Redrix looks at Melody. "Are you okay, young lady?" Melody nods. "Thank you, sir." Redrix tips his hat. "No problem. Now, can someone tell me what we are dealing with?" Samantha throws an abundance of spears at the creature. "They are called husks. A colony of parasites that leches onto dead bodies to reanimate and mutate them!" She avoids the creature's swaps at her.

Redrix gets off his blaster. "Stay with her, Lilly." Lilly barks and stands beside Melody. Melody looks at Redrix's blaster and waves awkwardly. "Umm, hi?" Lilly bends her front legs and looks at Melody. Melody is hesitant about what to do. "Do you want me to mount you?" Lilly nods. Melody mounts Lilly and rubs her neck. "Now what?" Lilly barks and runs around the husks at a safe distance. Melody starts singing to boost everyone's morale.

Hearing his sister's song, Rhythm summons two giant bone hands and punches the husk. "How do we kill it?" Samantha pins the husk's lower body with her spears and stares at Rhythm. "Burn it until nothing is left." Rhythm pins the upper body with his gaster hands. "Then your friend can burn it." Redrix takes a deep breath, and his eyes glow a bright orange. "Then take cover." He turns the fire pillar into fiery spears and increases their temperature greatly. "Hopefully, this would be enough." He snaps his fingers, and the spears penetrate the husk.

Melody tugs on Lilly's fur to have her stop. "Is it over -" She and Lilly teleport to a cliffside with her brother and the two strangers there. "Where are we?" Rhythm feels a bit disoriented and moves Redrix's hot hand off his shoulder. "Why did you take us here? Why didn't you take that thing out?" Redrix falls to his knees and struggles to breathe for a bit. "Ignite..." A gargantuan blue fiery pillar appears on the horizon as Redrix takes his jacket, hat, and bandana off.

Samantha takes a large water bottle from Redrix's bag and pours it on him. "You used too much heat." Redrix chuckles and steam comes out of his body. "At least, that thing is dead." He looks at Rhythm. "That's your answer, kid. That amount of fire would have killed you and your friend." Melody gets off Lilly and notices Rhythm's clenched fists. "Thank you for saving me earlier. But I have a question." Samantha looks at Melody. "What is it?" Melody stares at Samantha. "Who are you two?" Redrix sits up. "I'm Redrix, a human who can use magic." Samantha gives the rest of the bottle to Redrix after he cold off. "I'm Samantha, a demoness and a resident of this universe." Lilly walks to her owner and nuzzles him.

Redrix pats Lilly. "Now, who are you two, kids?" Melody stands beside her brother. "I'm Melody. This is my twin brother, Rhythm." Rhythm opens a portal to some au and grabs his sister's hand. "And we are leaving." Melody looks at her brother. "That's rude, brother." Redrix puts his hat on and gets on his feet. "Your brother is right. You two should leave. It's not safe." Samantha gazes at Redrix. "What do you mean by that?" Redrix pulls one of his revolvers and shoots at the tree line behind him. "What I mean is we aren't alone." He pulls out his other revolver and looks at the tree line.

A goopy skeleton walks out of the trees and spits Redrix's bullet. "You have a good eye. I will give you that." He grins at Melody. "Found you, little songbird." Rhythm steps in front of his sister. "Nightmare, what are you doing here?" Nightmare chuckles. "I'm here for your sister, Rhythm." He raises his tendrils. "Either hand her over or die." Rhythm tightens his grip on Melody's hand. "No." Redrix stomps the ground and a spiky wall appears in Nightmare's way. "I guess that's our cue to leave." He, Samantha, and Lilly follow Rhythm and Melody into the portal after grabbing their stuff. Nightmare breaks the wall and sees Rhythm's portal closes. "You can run but you can't hide." He laughs and disappears into his goop.

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

[ Start - Previous - Next ]

Samantha and Redrix belong to @lionwriters-blog and @lions-ut-blog (both are me)

Melody and Rhythm belong to @koko-doodle

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog

[arjunrajsingh]

Exploring the Charm of Pondicherry - Find a Memorable Hotel Stay in Pondicherry

Nestled on the southeastern coast of India, Pondicherry, now officially known as Puducherry, is a captivating destination that draws tourists from all corners of the globe. With its unique blend of French colonial heritage and vibrant Indian culture, this picturesque coastal town offers a delightful escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Whether you're an avid history buff, a lover of serene beaches, or a culinary enthusiast, a hotel stay in Pondicherry promises a perfect blend of relaxation and exploration.

Why Pondicherry Attracts Tourists

Pondicherry's allure lies in its seamless fusion of old-world charm and contemporary vibrancy. This former French colony is characterized by its quaint boulevards, colonial architecture, and an atmosphere that exudes a tranquil yet cosmopolitan vibe. Visitors often find themselves enchanted by the town's cobblestone streets, colorful buildings, and the ubiquitous scent of freshly baked baguettes wafting from local bakeries.

One of the major draws of Pondicherry is its rich cultural tapestry. The French Quarter, also known as "White Town," is dotted with charming cafes, chic boutiques, and beautifully preserved colonial buildings, all set against the backdrop of the Bay of Bengal. Here, you can meander through quiet lanes, savoring the blend of French and Tamil influences that define this unique locale.

The Best Time to Visit Pondicherry

Planning your trip to Pondicherry at the right time can enhance your experience significantly. The ideal period for a hotel stay in Pondicherry is between October and March. During these months, the weather is pleasantly cool and perfect for exploring the town's numerous attractions. The monsoon season, which spans from June to September, brings heavy rains, making it less suitable for sightseeing, but it also gives the town a lush, green appearance that some visitors might find appealing. The summer months (April to June) can be hot and humid, but they also coincide with fewer tourists, offering a quieter experience.

Must-Visit Places in Pondicherry

Pondicherry is brimming with enchanting sites and experiences:

Promenade Beach: This iconic beachfront stretch is perfect for a leisurely stroll. With the waves gently lapping at the shore and the horizon lit up by the setting sun, it’s a perfect spot to unwind.

Auroville: Located just outside Pondicherry, Auroville is an experimental township dedicated to human unity. The Matrimandir, a golden dome that stands as the spiritual heart of Auroville, is a must-see.

Sri Aurobindo Ashram: This serene spiritual community offers a glimpse into the teachings of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother. The ashram’s peaceful ambiance makes it an ideal spot for meditation and reflection.

Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus: This stunning example of Gothic architecture is one of the most beautiful churches in Pondicherry. The stained-glass panels depict events from the life of Christ and the Saints.

Delight in Pondicherry’s Cuisines

No trip to Pondicherry is complete without indulging in its diverse culinary offerings. The town's food scene is a delightful blend of French, Tamil, and Creole influences. For a quintessential experience, start with a traditional Tamil breakfast of idli and sambar at a local eatery, followed by a leisurely lunch of coq au vin or ratatouille at one of the charming French bistros. Don’t miss out on the seafood, fresh from the Bay of Bengal, or the delectable pastries from the myriad of bakeries that line the streets of White Town.

Whether you are seeking a relaxing retreat or an adventure into a unique cultural milieu, a hotel stay in Pondicherry will provide an unforgettable experience. From its scenic beaches and spiritual havens to its exquisite cuisine and vibrant heritage, Pondicherry truly offers a feast for the senses. So pack your bags and get ready to be charmed by the wonders of this beautiful coastal town.

[villageandcottage]

Are There Any Thatched Roofs in Australia?

UK citizens might think thatched roofs are quintessentially British but, of course, we’d be wrong. Buildings with thatched roofs have been around for millennia and are part of the history and culture of many communities.

But are there any thatched roofs in Australia? Yes, there are thatched roofs in Australia. Indigenous Australians used thatch to weatherproof their properties by using suitable materials that were to hand. These communities used different methods and different materials to thatchers in Britain and around the world.

But rural people the world over thatched their homes using what was locally available because it was cheap and easy to replace.

But we do have to put aside the idea that thatched roofs in Australia are similar to thatched cottages that are part of the chocolate-box idea of British rural life.

They are not. So to learn more about the types of thatched roofs found in Australia in the past and present, we need to delve deeper into the use of thatch ‘down under’.

Can You Have a Thatched Roof in Australia?

You can have thatched roofs anywhere. And you can certainly expect to see thatched roofs in Australia. They are rarer in Aus than in other countries, though.

And as with most areas of the world, you are quite likely to see thatch used on rural or heritage dwellings.

In modern or urban settlements you are more likely to find thatched roofs used in feature buildings, such as bars or pool houses, but these are often more about aesthetics than practicality.

Modern buildings tend to use roofing materials that are fire-resistant and scientifically balanced for both insulation and ventilation. Using thatch on modern architecture might not only look strange but would be difficult to maintain on certain buildings and expensive to insure.

Not only this but unlike modern roofing, thatching requires niche tradesmen whose skills are rightly expensive.

Thatch is also costly to maintain and, depending on the climate and weather conditions of the Australian territory you’re in, thatch might even be impractical.

To see why thatch is more rare in Australia than it is elsewhere we’re going to have to look to the country’s past, culture and climate.

Why is Thatch in Australia Quite Rare?

Let’s go back to the use of thatch by the inhabitants of various territories of mainland Australia before colonisation. Because Australia is continental in its scale, the indigenous people from various areas used different types of thatch for different purposes.

Those people in many areas of the country which is considered ‘the oldest, flattest, and driest inhabited continent, with the least fertile soil’ used thatch for shade more often than shelter from wind and rain.

But because the peoples of Australia were distinct communities, their methods of dwelling construction and thatching were designed to suit whatever their environment happened to dictate.

What Were the Traditional Thatched Dwellings of Australia?

This is especially true of the Gunyah, Humpy, or Wurleys which are domed or piqued structures that use whatever vegetation is close at hand. This might be palm, branches or scrub, or leaves and grasses.

Whether these can be considered to have a thatched roof is up for debate because the entire structure is constructed from natural materials. So it might be better to consider these domed buildings as entirely thatched.

The problem with pinpointing the breadth of thatched roof design and construction across the whole country is immensely difficult.

This is partly because the buildings are semi-permanent and made of natural materials that rot away. And partly because until recently, indigenous traditions weren’t recorded or investigated with much rigour.

How Did Thatched Roofs Change in Australia After Colonialisation?

The kind of thatch roofs that people from the UK are familiar with were constructed in certain territories of Australia but this style is considered ‘Colonial Thatch’.

It was used by the first colony of settlers to Australia and blended the thatching techniques of the UK and Europe with the materials used by the indigenous population.

As British colonisation of Australia progressed, buildings became more permeant and took on similar shapes to single-story rural dwellings in Britain and Ireland.

This included the thatched roof style that is common in the British Isles, including a timber frame, pitched roof and thatch tied to joists and topped by the ridge for added weatherproofing.

Arable farming became established in certain colonised areas and the wheat production added to the availability of this as an additional thatching material.

And because many indigenous people were forced into reservations or enclosures, many of their traditional dwelling types were lost to colonialisation.

Are Thatched Roofs Used in Modern Australian Properties?

The subsequent population boom in Australia since the post-war years has required a rapid expansion in housing. And because traditional thatched roofs require constant maintenance and are prone to animal damage, rot easily and are highly inflammable it’s easy to understand why their popularity had waned.

The most likely place you will find a thatched roof in Australia is for a garden or occasional structure of some kind. Pergolas, outdoor bars, or garden rooms are popular choices to add a thatched roof to.

And many holiday resorts like to amplify the ambience of their buildings by adding thatch to create an exotic paradise.

But just because thatched roofs have not been a popular choice for domestic housing in Australia in the last century, it doesn’t mean they are not an option for the right type of home.

Many people are looking at greener building choices and ways of incorporating sustainable materials into house design. And that’s why thatch is finding a slight resurgence in popularity.

The lifespan for thatch in Brisbane and Melbourne is roughly 50 years which is standard for most thatched roofs. And thatch acts as a natural insulator which can keep properties cooler in summer. It’s a greener choice than running air conditioning throughout the day.

And there’s no denying that factoring in a thatched roof into the design of a modern property would certainly have the wow factor.

And adding a thatched roof would also act as a nod to the traditions of the indigenous people of Australia and link the present with the past.

source https://villageandcottage.com/thatched-roofs/are-there-any-thatched-roofs-in-australia/

[orion-overdrive]

quick notes #1 — the sevenfold alliance (general info)

the sevenfold general facts

alliance of 7 founder worlds, ~10 member worlds that joined later

technically the founders are 6 planets and a realm / plane of existence but no one acknowledges that in casual speech; almost always "seven realms" or "seven worlds"

the founders were the ones who combined their efforts and finally ended the war of the light and beat the exiled one

assume all planets have similar day and year lengths to RL earth

verith

tidally locked to its star

one side is super hot, one side is super cold

ring of habitability in the middle; 90% of population live here

exiled one shoved verith in its new orbit

parent / precursor race disappeared without a trace and took their knowledge of magic with them

elendiel

trope: medieval stasis

knights, castles, kingdoms, all that stuff

elendiel is seemingly cursed to never have technology. the moment technology is available on a mass scale, something happens to crash it / render it inert

highest level of technology it can handle is steampunk

a LOT of old relics lying around

tierra

au earth; earth's "mirror image"

newest at having magic widely available

used to have masquerade separating "magic" and "mundane"; exiled one showing up obliterated it

final battle against exiled one took place here

ka'une

water world

no major continents, just large islands

major event in the past: exiled one tries to drain the planet's sea

wannabe cthulhu has hijacked ka'une's mana pool. it's friendly, but anyone that uses magic has a chance to become part cthulhu.

magic on ka'une is technically banned because of this, but almost nobody listens

arcadia

started as tierra's space colony

superhero / villain / comic book nonsense

super-futuristic; cyberpunk / -prep (depends on the city)

12 giant mega cities, enclosed by giant domes

magic is looked down on; has tried to abandon magic in favor of technology (and it bit them in the ass)

astral realm

the one that's not a planet

the place where dreams happen

functionally infinite; as long as there's one being that can dream, the astral realm will exist

mostly chaos, with several outposts of stability maintained by dream archons

power source for the astral vanguard

not a good place for corporeal beings to stay in for too long...

miracana

on february 29, xxxx, the entire planet of miracana went dark

all signals from miracana are suddenly cut off, anything and anyone traveling to miracana stopped responding

after months of trying to re-establish contact with no success, miracana was considered lost and everyone on / going to it was declared dead

the mystery of wtf happened is a subject of many conspiracy theories, but officials have never confirmed anything beyond declaring it lost

other possible planets????

planet orbiting a dead / dying star (keljur)

one that's technically a moon to a bigger planet

one planet that's much, much further away from the others (nemo)

a planet that is super strict on magic usage (gens/hin ripoff?)

[yushox]

[REBELLION]

He tries to play with the colony, he tries to befriend them, but they don't trust a person that came from the outside.

Only Tubbo seems to like him. Until he doesn't.

While sleeping cuddled up to Tubbo he whispers "Hey, are you awake?"

"Yeah Boo, what is it?" the smaller whispers sleepily.

"I.. I miss my family.." he sighs.

That was the exact wrong thing to say "Boo, your family is certainly dead. Noone survives outside the domes that long. It's a surprise the parasite didn't get to you."

"But... I saw them through the shield glass, they showed me that the parasite is not as dangerous anymore, that they are fighting it."

"They were definitely infected and trying to lure you in."

"Their eyes were all intact and healthy looking so i don't think so."

"Boo... I think I'll have to tell Phil. We don't want rebellions to arise, it's so very risky to open the gates. Plus, we lost Tommy in order to get you in here. If they hear what you said... I don't think I'd be allowed to be by your side anymore."

Ranboo frowns, not wanting to beg or do anything about it, he stands and grabs his things, moving back to his old apartment.

Next morning someone bangs on his door. When he opens it, it's Phil. The man immediately grips Ranboos collar and growls warningly "Don't you dare talk to anyone about what you saw beyond the glass."

He nods quickly and shakes as he is dropped to the floor.

That night he goes to the edge of the dome again, telling his family what happened using flashcards. His family tells him that the ones inside are just paranoid, and that they don't want to accept that the parasite can be defeated.

When his family leaves he is slightly jumpscared by a young mans voice "Hello."

He jumps and turns to the voice, noticing a hooded and masked man standing besides a blonde colonist "Uh.. hello?"

"I apologize for scaring you. I couldn't help but notice you talking to the outsiders. We can help you get out there again if you help us open the gates and get them stuck."

He looks back at the glass, seeing the retreating backs of his family.

"Oh! How rude of me, let me introduce myself! I am Dream, I'm an outsider just like you. I was sick with a parasite, lost one eye, but was able to defeat it. Phil took me in while I was weak from the bloodloss. Practically kidnapped me out of my own family and world. I'm sure you know how that feels."

He nods "Yes, of course I know what it's like. I'm Ranboo, I barely escaped a particularly big parasite, but this Tommy person sacrificed himself for Phil to get me in the dome."

"Do you know if Tommy is alright out there?"

"Yes, I asked my family to find him and protect him until I can find a way to get him back here, or atleast back with his family."

Dream seems to cringe at him implying that the sbi's are a family.

He looks at the blonde colonist, who smiles and introduces himself "I'm Luke, but call me Punz. I was born here. But I hate it here, and think these people are way too paranoid. My little brother Purpled would have shown face as well if he wasn't sick."

"So, out of about 30..ish people, how many are "rebelling"?"

Dream thinks "We're actually at 40 right now, if we include the outsiders. Currently it's just the four of us. But I'm sure I can pull in the other outsiders who are rebelling silently."

"I am chipping away at a few colonists who seem to be willing to listen." Punz comments.

"I," Ranboo thinks "haven't been here long enough, but I am, was, close to Tubbo, I can try to get him to rebel."

Dream counts "So besides us four, about.. six other people are possible candidates."

The newly formed organisation say's their goodnights then and agrees to show Ranboo their hideout sometime.

He goes back to his apartment, falling asleep.

---

This is based on a dream I had recently. Except in the dream the characters were ants for some reason (which they aren't in this shortfic).

Idk if I'll continue this. Feel free to use this as a base for your own stories and art.

[buddienights]

Part five of the TA grindr au

There’s only three weeks left in the semester when Buck gets a new message. It’s been difficult not to constantly IM Eddie. It’s not that Buck has a ton of standards that go into finding someone attractive (usually it’s as simple as “into him” and “enthusiastically consenting”) but Eddie is funny, and he’s smart, and he’s a dad, and from the little he’s talked about it, he’s a great dad, and also he’s…extremely hot.

Buck’s taken to sitting near the front row — just far enough back to get a good look at the, uh, PowerPoint projection — and even though he’s taking this class as a belated grad requirement, it is actually kind of fun. Made more fun because he knows what’s under Eddie’s shirt and when he zooms in on the picture on his profile there’s this freckle right at the top of his ribs that Buck wants to taste.

The latest volley of correspondence comes at an unusual hour. Well, unusual for Eddie. The little they’ve spoken in the past few weeks, Buck’s initiated almost all contact — usually to get more details about Eddie’s son’s needs so that he can apply that to his insider research into the kindergarten options around the city — and it’s never been after midnight.

But right now, it’s 1:30, and Buck is in bed, and when he first sees the message pop up on the screen, he assumes it’s from someone trying to pick him up. Because all it says is, “so, uh, firehose?”

And then he sees it’s from Eddie.

Firehose91: isn’t it past your bedtime

SunnyD: I’m out with a friend from the physics department

SunnyD: or — or in?? I guess?? We’re at my apartment because her wife wanted to host a sleepover for Chris and their son.

SunnyD: we had

There’s a pause in the conversation and Buck realizes that Eddie is a bit drunk.

Firehose91: you had…

SunnyD: we had “unwanted opinions” about the correct shape to make a gingerbread house so we got kicked out

Firehose91: a physicist and a classics grad student I can’t even guess what those might have been

SunnyD: Karen thought it should be like a Martian dome city thing and I thought it could be like a Parthenon type thing

SunnyD: and apparently when we started hypothesising about classical architecture getting transferred to future Martian colonies

SunnyD: we became unbearable

Firehose91: was this before or after the…margaritas…?

SunnyD: b4. This is after the margaritas

Firehose91: you don’t say

SunnyD: you didn’t answer my question. Firehose???

Firehose91: I figured there wasn’t any reason to be modest about it

SunnyD: because this is grindr

Firehose91: because this is grindr

SunnyD: okay but like there are other things you could’ve chosen that would still tell people you’ve got a big dick

Buck wonders for a second how much Eddie will remember and regret this conversation in the morning. He hopes the answer is “not much” on both counts.

Firehose91: when I moved to LA I applied to be a firefighter, and a navy seal, and also to school. I didn’t think they’d let me in to the school part so I was sort of set on the firefighter thing

Firehose91: but then I got into school and so I’m doing this instead. The name just stuck

SunnyD: oh. I bet you’d have been a great firefighter. But you’re gonna be a really great teacher

Firehose91: thanks. That means a lot, especially from you

Eddie doesn’t respond and Buck hopes it’s because his friend, Karen from the physics department, has given him some water and sent him to bed.

Buck is unsuccessful when he tries not to think about Eddie in bed.

[1kook]

EXPLORER

jjk x female reader

FOR GCN’S ❝ 23 | JUNGKOOK BIRTHDAY PROJECT ❞ ! Alien AU | “I want to have your last name!” | “I like when you do that, it makes me crazy.”

summary; Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning.  warnings; smut in the forms of cunnilingus, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, anal, tit play, and all that jazz bc surprise its tentacle porn rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous; FLUFF, strangers to friends to lovers, curious alien kook, there’s a saber tooth tiger mention, virginity is a social construct, they both have skewed perceptions of sex and love, and idk what else word count; 17.8k

notes; someone said once “all u ever do is write college aus 😃” and i was like lol true but i was also a virgo and was like “i’ll prove u wrong” and next thing i knew i was writing a 17k alien au clap for me lads

special thanks to; my savior and editor rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who very politely tells me when im making up words n also when shit doesn't make sense but lets me make stupid final decisions that will come back to bite me in the ass<3 and also my gf yeji @suqakoo​ who watched me crash and burn about ten times while writing this monstrosity of  fic and just laughed her support amazes me<3

BEFORE READING SEE HERE; body marks, under eye marks, sixam that i stole from the sims 4 

He comes with the sole purpose of populating this uncharted territory with his seed. 

Jungkook has been on many missions abroad. He’s visited about every planet in Sector 76 before this, the largest collection of neighboring galaxies known to exist. And because of that, he likes to think he’s well educated in extraterrestrial affairs, quite knowledgeable in the barbaric ways of the foreigners. They see, they mate. Pretty simple. 

For the past couple years, as leading field researcher of Sixam, Jungkook has been exclusively studying every creature he comes across. He enjoys cataloging their habits, their mating cycles, and the unique culture they develop, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not. 

Granted, he’s never been on a mission like this. 

This type of mission has never been his. 

When the great planet of Sixam wishes to settle colonies of new species— Sixamian bred with whatever other species that have deemed suitable —they usually task people like Namjoon or Seokjin, both high ranking generals of the Sixamian Intergalactic Corp. with a near immaculate genetic makeup. Their genotypes carry strong traits, and are oftentimes most reflected in their phenotypes as well. Beings like Namjoon or Jin are the epitome of what it means to be Sixamian, which is why Jungkook is surprised when they ask him to place his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7 of the Via Láctea solar system, otherwise known as ‘Earth.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook had major self image issues, nor did he think he was particularly bad to look at. In fact, Jungkook thinks he’s pretty amazing. Of course he doesn’t compare to Namjoon or Jin, but quite frankly, the comparison is skewed by the fact he works in a different field than them. You cannot compare black holes to asteroid belts; in a similar fashion, you cannot compare military generals to scientific researchers. 

Anyway, Jungkook has never been to Planet 43 Z-7, but some of his coworkers have. They all claim it is a beautiful place, filled to the brim with life and culture never before seen. 

Frankly, Jungkook doesn’t believe it. 

He’s seen hundreds of planets, thousands of species, so he hardly feels amazed anymore. There is nothing enjoyable about other planets when he comes from Sixam, quite possibly the most intellectually advanced one in the universe. And he says this having met Yoongi of Planet 732 T-1, another being near immaculate in terms of cognitive abilities.

But not as perfect as Sixamians. 

Hoseok says Planet 43 Z-7 has all sorts of unique artifacts, like these edible arrangements called ‘hot dogs’ you eat between two pieces of raised yeast. Planet 43 Z-7 has been unmarked for eons now, but is a popular hideout for rebelling Sixamians during their early years. Jungkook was never one of those types, but he has a handful of friends who were. 

Needless to say, Jungkook isn’t looking forward to his mission. He asks Namjoon and Jin for tips on how to approach the reproductive members in the species, if there’s any protocol he needs to follow, but they simply laugh it off. They’ve both had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring some of the most beautiful creatures in the universe, so Jungkook’s incompetence must be a sight to see. 

Airship handler Jimin is the last face he sees on Sixam. He’s as relaxed as ever, strapping Jungkook into his travel pod like this is just another one of his research trips and not his first ever population operation. He pats his shoulder once, tells him to bring him back something called a ‘Nintendo DS’ that his partner Taehyung has been begging for since the last time they went to Planet 43 Z-7, but Jungkook has no idea what that is. 

And then he’s off. 

Jungkook has long since grown comfortable with the emptiness of space, a desolate feeling that oddly made him feel at home. But, as he hurtles towards his destination, there’s a newfound sense of anxiety that consumes him at the thought of this unknown planet— this ‘Earth’ that his fellow Sixamian friends speak so highly about. 

He lands in a field. Well, ‘lands’ is a bit of a stretch; his pod comes to a stop a few feet above Planet 43 Z-7’s surface, hovering over the natural flora that seems to grow in abundance in this part of the planet. It’s… dirty, compared to the sleek skyscrapers and glowing structures of Sixam. 

He steps out tentatively, the vegetation crunching beneath the boots of his skintight spacesuit. The folks back at Sixam had told him that whatever the residents of this planet breathed in was compatible with Sixamians, but he still hesitates to click off his helmet. 

The planet is quiet, save for the quiet chirping of some creature underground. The AI on his helmet pulls up the information before his very eyes, the advanced technology quickly tapping into wherever it was these beings stored their information. A mole cricket, he reads, first documented by a researcher about two hundred human years back. Very annoying. 

His pod seals itself shut again, presumably heading back into orbit until Jungkook calls for it again. With it gone, he’s faced with the vast nothingness of Planet 43 Z-7, just grass and trees with very few things in between. He’s beginning to suspect Jimin might have sent him to the wrong coordinates, a void space on the planet with nothing but vegetation for miles. 

Part of him is frustrated, beyond annoyed that he cannot even complete the one thing he came to do if there is no being in sight. But another part, the part of him that had been nervous to even accept this mission, feels grateful. Well, there was no use complaining about it now, he thinks. He pulls up his virtual journal, ready to catalogue every bit of vegetation he can set his eyes on. 

After a while, his helmet becomes stuffy, the digital screen that plays over the glass piece fogging up with his breath. So Jungkook takes his chances and clicks it off, the sudden wash of oxygen filling his lungs quickly. It’s fresh and moist? It smells like his laboratories back on Sixam, the ones that took years of countless trips around the universe and meticulous gardening to cultivate. Yet here on Planet 43 Z-7, this type of phenomenon is common, and apparently, ignored by its residents. 

One man’s trash was another man’s treasure, he supposes. 

He’s scanning a peculiar organism, reddish and dome-shaped, when he hears the first crack of a twig. Immediately, his defenses rise. Jungkook was by no means a skilled warrior, but most Sixamians fared better than other creatures in the universe. Save for the few barbarian, primitive species they’ve encountered, 9/10 times any wild encounter was in their favor. 

His eyes scan over the perimeter of the field, scanning, scanning, scanning— until he spots two, huge, glowing yellow eyes from distance. His eyes widen, flicking on the retractable blaster from his wrist and pointing it at the creature. 

It’s bigger than him, with eyes that look over only a short distance before gradually dying down. He wonders if that’s the scope of its field of vision, crouching down along the vegetation. He creeps closer, rounds the bright beams until he can see the creature’s side, an oddly shaped thing, almost like a shell. It has wheels, he realizes, mentally jotting down the fact this species is advanced enough to develop such technology on their own. 

Right as he’s beginning to lower his wrist, deciding this metal creature posed no threat from its lack of movement, something smaller moves around it, carrying a compact version of those glowing eyes. 

Jungkook panics, wildly clicking through the modes on his wrists. He jumps from his blaster to the thermal detector, and the smaller creature that moves around the metal beast has a heat signature he’s never seen before, warmth that begins at its core but doesn’t drop drastically as it fans out. And then he’s switching to his electroscope and is startled to see that the smaller creature even carries an electric charge beneath its outer membrane. 

This is terrifying, he thinks to himself, wondering why his friends back home had decided to trick him into believing Planet 43 Z-7 was remotely safe. 

Before Jungkook can act rashly and accidentally kill that terrifying creature, he’s blindly stepping into a hole in the ground, a dip in the field. An uncontrollable yelp tears itself from his throat at the roll of his ankle. 

Immediately, the yellow eye is upon him, flickering over his kneeling form in the vegetation. Jungkook freezes, caught in the all-seeing rays of the yellow eye. He wonders if this is the end, the end of an undoubtedly legendary run, as the creature slowly approaches. 

Its figure is shrouded, the blinding eye turning them into just a silhouette that closes in on Jungkook fairly quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he never stepped out of his pod, when the beam flickers off. 

“Hello?” a hesitant voice calls out, and then he’s met with you. 

You had always believed holding out until marriage would come as an advantage. You played it safe your entire life, always did what you were told. You had grown up in a relatively traditional household, always following the rules like a good kid. Your parents said no dating until seventeen? You waited until seventeen. Your health classes in school said practice abstinence? You practiced abstinence. 

Following the rules was what got you into a prestigious university. Following the rules is what got you your first, quite admirable, job. Following the rules is what had gotten you into your first serious relationship with your boyfriend, who became your fiancé, who would become the man to cheat on you three nights before your wedding. 

Being a virgin— that symbol of purity —was supposed to make you desirable to men, you thought. It was supposed to protect you from bad experiences, keep you perfectly polished until the time came. You had many a friend who had engaged in sex at a young age, experienced mind blowing sex that would never be topped, even by their own future husbands. You had saved yourself from disappointment by saving yourself in general. 

Except that concept, that meticulously followed tradition, was what ultimately drove your fiancé away.

Three days. 

Three days before you would marry and lose that treasured thing you had been carrying around for the past twenty-five years, flushed clean down the drain all because he couldn’t wait any longer. He had managed four years with you, four memorable years where he had religiously told you he loved you every chance he got, regardless of your lack of sex life. Just to blow it for some barely legal chick at a bar. 

Needless to say, you were done. Absolutely finished with him and your friends who claimed they “weren’t surprised” only after the fact, or your parents who had urged you to try again. You were done with this saving and waiting all for a man who ultimately did you dirty. You needed to get away from it all, and the only way to do that was to leave the city all together. 

Your parents were uncomfortable with the idea. They said it was too brash a decision to give up after one try. But your whole future had been riding on this one try, and to have it completely ripped away from you crushed not only your hope but your pride. 

On the other hand, your grandmother and her lifelong experiences with men understood you just perfectly. She was old, living in a retirement home near your parents’ home in one of your city’s many suburbs. There was a house out in the countryside, about a two-hour drive from the city. She had grown up there, and even though she hadn’t lived there in years, she simply couldn’t bring herself to sell it off. So she gave it to you. 

It was a cute little thing, a stereotypical farmhouse surrounded by miles and miles of nothingness. Well, your neighbors were about half a mile off on either side, but who was walking half a mile for a cup of sugar? No one. 

You loved it. 

It was peace and quiet, long days of focusing on yourself and your tiny garden outback. There was no societal pressure to act right, or forced ideologies to make yourself the ‘perfect woman.’ It was just you and a stray cat that visited now and then, spending day after day reading and writing, working from home. 

The trips into the city were far and few between. There was a general store close to your house, nestled into a quaint little town you visited every so often. And the mailmen still had to make their stops through here, so everything was practically at your fingertips. The only thing you had to do in the city was drop by the main branch office of your job. Your work had mostly been over a computer before, so moving to work at home was rather easy. However, there was still the occasional board meeting to sit through. 

So here you were, three months into your new living situation and on your way back home from the city. The evening sun is beating down hot on your yellow Beetle. You were in desperate need for a check up, but you kept pushing it off and telling yourself tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. It seems tomorrow should have been today, because by the time the sun is setting, home is still another thirty minutes away and the temperature gauge is climbing to unhealthy levels. 

The Beetle pushes for another two minutes before wheezing to a stop in the middle of nowhere, your angry slaps against the dashboard doing nothing to revive it. With a muttered curse, you switch the car off. The front lights remain on even as you round the dead car, angrily kicking the tire with your heel. It doesn’t budge. 

You sigh, sinking down to your knees beside the opened door you came out of. The nearest mechanic was still a forty minutes’ drive from here, and you doubt anyone is still open. The con of small towns is that most of the businesses close after sunset. One glance at your phone lets you know it’s way too late to call anyone for help. You contemplate just walking to your house, but it’s dark and far, and your heels were only meant to be worn for an hour or two during your meeting. Not for an entire transcontinental trek back home. 

Sighing, you decide your best bet is tinkering around yourself. You weren’t a total idiot, so you hope whatever is wrong with your car is something you can fix on your own. You shoot back up to your feet, patting the blood back into your face as you round the car. 

There’s nothing but you and the Beetle for miles on end— or so you think. 

Just as you flicker your flashlight over the expanse of grass, there’s a startled shout that scares the living daylights out of you, flashlight fumbling in your hand in your haste to see what it was. 

Great, so not only were you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your heels to carry you to safety, but now there was also a man out there, hiding in the tall grass like a voyeur. 

It’s a terrible idea, but you approach him anyway. There’s a huddled figure, a gleam of a bizarre outfit that has you shaking in your heels as you step closer to the edge of the road. And when you finally get close enough, the light shining over their figure, you’re not exactly sure what you’re looking at. 

“Hello?” you call out, and are met with the most violet eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jungkook thinks you are an odd creature. 

To begin with, you carry an electrical charge at your fingertips but are unable to revive your rickety metal ride with said touch. It is undoubtedly a trait he does not remember cataloguing in any other species before yours; it might rival the Sixamians’ aura sensing abilities, the little triangular markings beneath their eyes that allowed them to alter another’s emotions. Electricity beneath surface, he mentally notes for the nth time that night. 

The inside of your vehicle is disgustingly mediocre, a mixture of old clogs and pipes he’s only seen in ancient Sixamian textbooks. Still, they’re devastatingly easy to figure out. One simple twist of a lid later and your car is revving back to life. You squeal and clap, clacking around on the frankly terrifying footwear you call heels that are practically knives as stilts. 

Amazing, you cry, moving like a mini tornado around him. You don’t seem the least bit phased by his appearance, despite the initial shock you’d gotten when you first made eye contact. Actually, Jungkook thinks you might be the quickest extraterrestrial being to accept his existence as fact. He has to wonder what exactly goes on here that has these Humans, as Jimin has called them, so desensitized to the appearance of otherworldly figures such as himself. 

You invite him into your moving death trap, not the least bit concerned with the chest piece of armor he removes and tosses into the seats behind him. Jungkook has been in a lot of near death situations, and somehow your manner of driving this metal box marks high on the list. 

“My home,” you tell him when you finally pull up to a tiny shack of a house. It’s about the same size as his personal lab back on Sixam, so he wonders just which one of you is being deluded by the size. The car engine shuts off with a practiced flick of your wrist, and then you’re making your way up the front steps without sparing him a glance. 

“Lovely,” he says at the entrance. He moves to travel deeper inside, but you warn him to remove his shoes. He does, hesitantly, bare feet padding along the wooden floors behind you. “Forgive me,” he apologizes, watching you bumble around a small space with a standing cooler and heat box. “I haven’t asked your name.”

You hum, tugging out two cups from a hanging cabinet. You fill them with a white substance, followed by a light brown powder that almost makes you sneeze, before shoving them into the heat box that begins suspiciously counting down. “__ ___,” you offer. 

Jungkook frowns. “You have two names?” he asks skeptically. In Sixam, rarely anyone had two names. “Are you a government official?” 

You laugh. “No, but I do work for an office. I have one name, and then my last name,” you explain. 

This only perplexes him more. “A last name?” he repeats. “What is the purpose of this last name?” 

You shrug, and the heat box beeps loudly. Jungkook twitches, ready to aim his blaster once more but you calm the beeping box with a gentle click that has the front opening, the most heavenly scent wafting into his nostrils. Oh Jungkook definitely needed to take that back. Much to his surprise, you hand him one of the handled cups, the sweet smell making his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

“Well,” you say, seemingly unaware of the way you just changed Jungkook’s entire life. “I have my name, and then I have my family’s name. Like, to show we’re in the same group, kinda,” you explain. “And it also helps sort of differentiate you from other people with the same first name.” You settle down on a seat in front of the counter, carefully blowing across the liquid contents of the mug. Jungkook doesn’t get why until he tries to take a sip and the liquid scalds his tongue. You laugh. “Gotta cool it down, silly.” 

He feels silly. In fact, he feels beyond embarrassed that someone who is not a Sixamian is looking at him with the same eyes you look at an infant with. He has a strong need to reinforce his superiority over you. 

“Well I am Jungkook,” he announces proudly. “Jungkook of Sixam. The only Jungkook of Sixam, because we do not believe in sharing something as intimate as our names with another,” he huffs. You scoff, a genuine look of amusement crossing your features that Jungkook simply does not understand. 

It’s with a practiced grace that you set your cup down on the counter, face coming to a rest in in the palm of your hand as you watch him talk over himself about the intricacies of Sixamian names, and how each one is carefully selected at one’s first celebration to honor the first long year of life they overcame. That look on your face, that disgustingly entertained expression does not melt away, even when Jungkook hastily calls your people imbeciles to your face. 

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, staring deep into the contents of your hot cocoa, as you had called it when offering him a second cup, as if you don’t seem to disagree in the slightest. “Humans are like that. 

There’s a quality to your voice, a rather melancholy tone that curls around your words that stops Jungkook’s tirade against your race for a moment. There’s a look in your eyes, hollow and alone, that he cannot place. He wonders if it’s from past experiences or from a shared Human trauma. Either way, he does not understand. 

It’s with a shake of your head that you look up at him again, sweet smile back on your features. “Humans are selfish creatures, Jungkook,” you say. 

He is not sure if he believes you. 

Jungkook has traveled to many parts of the universe, has visited places your tiny Human brain may never comprehend. Yet he has not always received this treatment. There have been missions where he has been picked on and abused for his curiosity, rudely ejected back into the vast emptiness of space just because he wanted to know more, learn more. Not every planet welcomes him with a soft smile and a warm place to stay. 

Despite the initial unimpressed confusion he felt upon entering Planet 43 Z-7, there is something about the quirk of your lips and gentle tapping of your fingers that intrigues him. 

Huh, he thinks, subconsciously cataloguing your mannerisms in his head. He will write about this later. 

You let Jungkook sleep in your quarters, a small area with a mattress that he sinks into with delight. There’s a change of clothing you set out on the edge of the bed, a rather shabby set that matches yours. He is reluctant to peel away his bodysuit, even more so when he realizes he is standing naked on a foreign planet with a very strange creature clattering around downstairs. He hurries into the clothes. 

You peek your head into the room later on, carefully flicking off the lights as he settles onto the mattress. Jungkook is beyond tired, body fatigued from hurtling thousands of light years through space in such a short amount of time. The abundance of breathable oxygen is still something his body has to grow accustomed to. Your voice is soft as you whisper out a goodnight farewell that he can only sleepily mumble back. 

Jungkook is quite literally the most gorgeous person you have ever seen. Well, person is a stretch considering you’re not entirely sure what he is, or where he’s from. When you found him, sadly crouched in the middle of nowhere, you wanted to convince yourself he was some random college boy lost on his way to a costume convention. But he’s not. His big purple irises are oddly bright, practically luminescent, and that’s definitely not something one could achieve through stage makeup. And he’s not a college student either, despite how youthful he looks, but a foreign being at least three times your age. 

Or so he says. 

Honestly, you’re torn between wanting to write him off a nutjob or believing he is this highly intelligent extraterrestrial being. In the case he is the latter, you find it odd that of all the planets in your solar system— a whopping eight, maybe nine —he chose crappy old Earth to visit. 

Jungkook moves like a fine tuned instrument, graceful limbs wandering around your home and backyard the next morning. His little head piece, a unique accessory that wraps around the base of his skull like a microphone headset or something, seems to keep him in constant communication with his fellow brethren so long as he wears it. So he wears it all the time. 

Still, you’re able to differentiate between his messages back home and his mindless mumbles. Those usually happen more often than not, soft muttering as he inspects your garden, vivid descriptions of the plainest things like an onion. 

“Lemonade’s ready,” you call, stepping into your backyard. Jungkook peers over your rosemaries like a bunny, wide eyes scanning the pitcher you set out on your back porch’s table. Carefully, he steps around your meticulous rows of vegetables. He’s wearing the clothes you lent him last night, a pair of shorts and a shirt your brother had left when he visited a few weeks ago. They fit him nicely, shorts just shy of his knees. 

“This is lemond-aid?” he asks quizzically, tentative hands reaching for the quickly perspiring glass. He has unique markings that begin at his hands, twisting and curling carefully around his arms. They’re gold in the sunlight, contrasting softly against his relatively peachy skin. There’s a matching set on his knees that wrap over and around his thighs, beneath his shorts. He looks every bit the celestial being, yet here he is marveling over the lemon slice balanced on the rim of his glass. 

“Lemonade,” you correct, sitting down on your rocking chair. Your floppy sun hat protects you from the brutal rays of the sun, practically scorching in this summer heat. It reminds you of the honeymoon you were supposed to take a few months back. You stomp out the memory. 

Jungkook takes tentative sips, stopping every few seconds to smack his lips at the taste. Then, suddenly, he’s plopping down on the wooden planks of your porch criss-cross applesauce. The bracelet-like contraption he had removed from his suit is sitting on his wrist by itself, with Jungkook rapidly tapping some unseeable button on it until a blue hologram appears between the two of you. 

“Woah,” you gasp, the projection flawless and stable. Jungkook gets to work tapping at it, unrecognizable symbols appearing on the screen. His glass of lemonade is by his knee, ice tinkling inside. 

“Lemond-aide,” he repeats, mouth moving awkwardly around the world. He glances at you for confirmation. You shake your head. Frustrated, he scoots up beside you, pressed against your leg like a puppy. “Say it,” he commands, tapping at his screen once. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, lemonade?” you offer. Jungkook nods, clicks something else, and then your voice is repeating itself back to the two of you. He looks for your approval once more. “Perfect,” you nod, slightly bashful to hear your own voice played back like that. 

Content with your approval, he gets back to work, clicking and typing wildly at the screen until it’s filled to the brim with those strange symbols. When he’s done, he says his name and date into the same recording device and shuts off his hologram. “It is an interesting thing,” he says quietly, bare feet swinging over the edge of the porch. “A sweet drink procured from a tangy fruit.” 

You nod, can’t stop the smile that consumes your features at his childlike wonder. You know it’s not his fault that such simple things astound him, but there’s something about Jungkook’s genuine curiosity and snarky tongue that make you feel young again. Like a teenager in her prime, sitting with a silly high school boy. Not a woman sitting on the cusp of thirty, alone and untrusting of the world. 

“What are hot dogs?” Jungkook cuts in abruptly, turning to face you with those purple eyes of his. You can’t help it; you laugh. 

“I have some in the fridge,” you answer, leaving your rocking chair and him on the porch. Jungkook doesn’t sit still for long, quietly trailing behind you inside the house. The stray cat is here today, slinking around your ankles as you scour the fridge for the hot dogs. It’s a perfect day for a barbecue, you think, with hot dogs and lemonade. 

The cat wanders over towards Jungkook, sniffing at his ankles before nuzzling against him too. “You also have smilodon on your planet,” he comments. “You are comfortable with such murderous beasts in your home?”

You furrow your brows. “It’s just a cat,” you shrug, leaning down to pick up the furry baby. He purrs against your chest while Jungkook glares at it. 

“Have you taken its teeth for your own?” he asks. 

“What?” you laugh. “He has all his teeth.” 

Jungkook frowns. “No, his unusually large canines,” he explains, mimics two giant fangs with his fingers. “Is this a kitten of a smilodon?” You have no idea what he’s saying at this point, rubbing the cat’s back gently as Jungkook talks over himself. He does that a lot, you realize, ramble about facts you would otherwise see as of little importance. 

The afternoon is spent grilling hot dogs, Jungkook carefully trailing the cat he has taken to calling Smilodon. You watch from the grill as he follows the cat around the garden, gently shooing it off when it gets too close to your broccoli plants. He’s cute, you think, watching him maneuver around your plants with the grace of a trained dancer. 

He absolutely adores the hot dogs, spending another twenty minutes typing out one of those funky journal entries into the computer in his wristband. He asks about the Nintendo DS, something that makes you laugh boisterously at the absurdity of the question. 

When it gets dark outside, he stands in one place and stares up at the sky, rendered motionless at the sight. Jungkook doesn’t like coffee, but he loves hot cocoa. He settles in to watch the nightly news with you, every five minutes filled with an abundance of questions about your planet— which he refers to by a unique set of numbers and letters you’ve never heard before —and what you like to do. Every tidbit of information is documented in his wristband. 

He sleeps on the couch this time, feeling shameful to have pulled you away from such an amazing mattress. He says goodnight shyly from the bottom of the stairs, followed by a tentative wave he saw you give the mailman that morning. You say it back and fall asleep, the alien in your living room not making a peep. 

Thus a whole week passes with Jungkook of Sixam.

On the seventh day of his stay, Jungkook is woken up by the quiet beeping of his headpiece. It’s Chief Kim Namjoon, calling to ask how his population operation of Planet 43 Z-7 is going. Jungkook stills, the quiet chirping of the birds outside your window filling in the space. The water is running somewhere inside your house, signaling your conscious state. 

His answers are quick and sharp, nervous laughter falling from his lips as he rushes to end the call with Namjoon. He manages to do so just as you appear in the living room, skin nice and dewy from your morning shower, eyes still showing signs of your peaceful slumber. 

“Good morning,” you rasp quietly, a soft ruffle of his hair as you pass by Jungkook on your way to the kitchen. His face feels warm, under eye markings surely glowing a vivid red at the gesture you have gradually ingrained into him, one that makes his heart rev up like an engine preparing to shoot off millions of light years into the distance. 

Jungkook enters the kitchen behind you, your pet smilodon greeting the two of you with a gentle head butt against his ankles that is unlike any other smilodon he has encountered before. He sits at the counter as you work on breakfast, the faint scent of your cucumber body scrub wafting by with every turn you make in the small kitchen. 

And then he’s thinking. 

There are a few crucial bits of information that Jungkook has come to realize over the past week, some of which he hears directly from you, others he picks up from watching your ancient projection in the living room. 

One: of the variety of human genders that exist on Earth, you are one that seems to carry the specific set of bodily structures necessary for reproduction. He’s inspected you carefully the last few days, watching the way you move and carry yourself, just to ensure such is true. By finding you right away, Jungkook was halfway to his goal of settling his seeds on Planet 43 Z-7. 

Two: unlike most humans of Planet 43 Z-7, your body seems oddly… preserved, to say the least. He knows you are familiar with their reproductive rituals as he’s watched a few of said rituals on the projection box in your living room with you. They were very normalized among your people, with almost every broadcast including at least one mention of them every day. Despite that, your body shows no significant reaction to the scenes, and one sneaky scan of your vitals shows Jungkook that you have yet to participate in this ritual yourself. 

Lastly, Jungkook has come to the terrible, godawful conclusion that he does not wish to rope you into breeding with him for the sake of Sixam’s colonialist ways. There’s something about you and your people that does not deserve to be seized by Jungkook and his people. A sort of untouched quality of the progression of your species.

As the oldest and most advanced planet in quite possibly the entire universe, Sixam holds significant power over everyone else. Their higher order brains have helped many a planet follow the right path in attaining the same level of perfection. They were saviors of some sort, touching every planet they visited with the finger of a god. While there were certainly some Sixamians who did not believe in this way of life, of stretching their hold across entire galaxies, others did. 

Jungkook had always fallen in the middle. He had no particular desire to reign over the planets he visited, because his interests had always laid with the existence of the individuals on said planets. He was a researcher, not a military official like Namjoon or Jin. But he has to admit that time and again his research has procured the same results; while there were certainly other planets where the beings were more beautiful or the landscape more stunning than that of Sixam, there was not a single planet that matched their advanced mental capabilities. 

Until now. 

Your civilization moved in a rather fluid way, always changing and never settling. There were eras he learned about on TV, revolutions where one invention rose to prominence, where one sub-race rose to power. Even now, a simple scan through your news broadcasts leaves Jungkook curious. For the first time in a long time, his countless journal entries of information do not lead him to a plausible conclusion. Would you make it right and settle your disputes? Or would this endless fighting, sometimes carried out passively and through words, other times with the use of advanced weaponry, continue until the end of time? Jungkook didn’t know. 

And it was wrong of him to ask you to carry the burden of introducing an entirely new species— a Human and Sixamian at once —for the sole belief that it would somehow “fix” your planet. For the sake of your people, it was best if Jungkook just bugged off. 

And yet, the soft scent of your body lotion, the gentle brush of your hands against his scalp, the delicate way his name rolls off your lips like you’re tasting it for the first time, they all make his heart beat unnaturally fast beneath his skin. They make him yearn for a feeling, an emotion, he cannot quite describe. 

He was in trouble. 

Ovulation creeps up on you early into the next week. 

You hadn’t been too focused on it this time around, mostly just worried about your period and how awkward it would feel around Jungkook of Sixam. Preoccupied with stockpiling pads and finding your heat pad, you forget about the few days before the period. The time where your libido rages like an animal that has been poked at one too many times. 

The realization dawns on you slowly. Jungkook is sitting on the couch, avidly watching a documentary on ancient civilizations. He’s got one hand in a bowl of popcorn you set out for him, another mindlessly toying with a stray thread on a throw pillow. It’s when he looks at you with those big purple eyes, lips pouty and pink, that something distinctly carnal flickers on inside of you. 

You ignore it. You wrap those feelings in a box and shove it deep into the recesses of your mind. 

But Jungkook was devastatingly handsome, that much you’d known from the moment you saw him. When he’s not in the sun, those Sixamian markings wrap around his body in charcoal streaks, peeking out from the hem of whatever clothes you find for him everyday. For the most part, he’s been running through the pack of plain shirts you picked up from the general store, and the same two pairs of shorts on rotation. His body is artfully toned, thighs big and bulging, but waist small and tapered. His lower lip is the juiciest pink color you’ve ever seen, plush and soft, framing two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair is jet black, part favoring one side more than the other. 

His hands are firm on the rare occasion he touches you; on your hips when you stumble around the kitchen, on your shoulder when he’s pointing out a particular constellation to you. Jungkook’s presence slowly begins driving you to insanity. 

The worst thing is, you cannot tell if his curiosity comes from your status as a potential partner or his overall interests in your species. You want to convince yourself that he is just as interested in your body as an individual as you are his, but those hopes are dashed with every question he asks. Where does the sink drain? Where does the chocolate powder come from? How far is the nearest government official? 

So you calm your thoughts, push them away with the same practiced ease you’ve mastered from a young age. Your purity remains untainted by others, only teased in the shower when Jungkook is wandering around outside. Then and only then do you offer yourself a reprieve, press your fingers down between your thighs and wonder what it is like to have someone else there. 

You picture two purple eyes peering up at you from below, a pink tongue carefully licking against your puffy folds until you’re shaking. How well endowed was a Sixamian? You didn’t know, but you imagine them to be quite big if the subtle shifts you catch of Jungkook every now and then are any sign. 

One finger wiggles past the tight ring of muscle surrounding your hole, the intrusion makes your knees buck. You sink along the shower wall, huffing and puffing as your fingers dance along your swollen clit, thumb swirling hurried circles around the bud until you’re cumming, body spasming from the force.

The water rains down on you, washes your shameful acts down the drain. Vaguely, you wonder if Jungkook is still outside or if the heat drove him into your air conditioned home. Did he hear you? For all his curiosity, you’re certain there are some aspects of the human experience that Jungkook did not want to see. His roommate/caretaker/only-human-friend masturbating was probably one of them.  

It has been years since your fantasies included any other man, faithfully revolving around your ex-fiancé until the very end. It is scary how quickly the mere idea of Jungkook riles you up, how that violet gaze is enough to tear you apart. 

When you resurface in the living room, the house is still. The only sounds are that of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the occasional creaking of the pipes. Jungkook is still outside, you sigh in relief, catching his fluffy head of hair bounding across the front yard with Smilodon on his heels. When he turns, you catch his eyes and he pauses. He offers you that same cute wave he learned last week, gentle smile gracing his features. 

It’s the soft curve of his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the corners, that make the rapid thumping in your chest settle. You raise your hand, waving back through the window. All was well. 

For now. 

The next morning brings with it an overwhelming sense of anxiety. Namjoon calls him again in the morning, and this time Jungkook cannot skirt around the truth. He hurriedly tells his friend of his findings, of the beautiful society that flourishes on Planet 43 Z-7, and the never-ending personalities he has the chance of encountering. There is an author fansign, you told him, of a book he thoroughly enjoyed taking place next week. There is a woman in town who can fix any technology sent her way. There is a group of children who pass by and sell you food, these flattened things called Girls Cout Cook Ease. There is so much to see and so much to learn that it has Jungkook unconsciously projecting his excitement via his under eye markings. 

You come downstairs mid-call, smiley and ditzy. You were normally a bubbly person, but this much excitement can’t possibly be yours. It’s the sign Jungkook needs to settle down, but Namjoon offers him one too. 

Much to his chagrin, he warns Jungkook against getting too comfortable, tells him to finish his operation and scram as quickly as possible. The Higher Sixamian Court does not take kindly to Sixamians becoming enamored with other planets, especially if they are as advanced as Jungkook claims them to be. He’s rushing out information, begging Jungkook to finish or abandon his mission, anything but stay too long, and before Jungkook can respond, their comms are abruptly shut off. 

He’s left blankly staring at your coffee table, Namjoon’s caution ringing loudly in his ears. 

After the effects of his accidental influence wear off on you, you shake yourself awake, confusedly glancing around the place before shrugging it off. “Morning,” you say, the same as ever, patting his head softly. Jungkook watches you begin your daily routine, the kettle running on the stove as you get to work preparing his hot cocoa. 

For a moment he wonders what it’s like to be like this, to live like this. Free from the standards of Sixam as you go about your morning. There is no drive in you to conquer everyone, no overwhelming need to ‘fix’ those around you. You exist by yourself in this tiny house outside the city, like a moon always circling but never interacting. He knows you have your own circumstances that drove you here, issues where you suffered that same grueling past of people forcing ideas and beliefs upon you as Jungkook. But now you’re here, housing an extraterrestrial being such as himself without any payment. 

He wants to be like you. 

He wanders over towards the kitchen, returning your sleepy smile when you catch his gaze. Jungkook likes this. He enjoys seeing you in the morning, still trailed by the remnants of sleep, with skin tender to the touch. The smell of cocoa filling his nostrils, the chirp of the birds outside your window. He likes Smilodon and the mailman, and the woman half a mile from here who brought you peaches the other day. 

Most importantly, Jungkook likes you. 

Not as a breeding partner or convenient hostess, but as a person. Your laughter makes him feel warm inside, like he is genuinely appreciated as is. You’re gentle with your words, and even more so with your touch; hands pat his head, hold his arm when he stumbles too close to the garden. 

Jungkook does not want to impress the frankly tyrannical ways of his planet on you. He just wants to stay here and keep your couch warm for you, hold your hair back when you wash your face in the morning. 

He wants to remain beside you. 

It’s a little stuffy inside your house today, a problem you solve by cracking open the kitchen window. A nice breeze flows over the two of you, pushing the scent of the cocoa and your coffee his way. But a sweeter one follows, something thick and earthy that rolls off of you in waves. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, tries to ward off those sounds he heard from you just yesterday afternoon. 

Those whiny sounds, airy whimpers that had drifted down from upstairs. A wet squelch that had registered a little too loudly to his superior ears. It had haunted him last night on the couch, made Jungkook twist and turn until the fuzzy image of you relieving yourself went away. 

Jungkook wanted to help with that too. He wanted to put his hands and his mouth in places you needed him most, pleasure you like you deserved. 

But how could he tell you all this and more? Did he even have the right as an invader to profess his infatuation to you? This Planet 43 Z-7, this Earth, was filled to the brim with interesting things, yet you remained at the very top of Jungkook’s list. He couldn’t leave, not now, but he couldn’t stay either. His entire presence in itself was a ploy to spread his seed, a fact you continued to be unaware of. 

Namjoon’s words bounce around his brain, twist and wrap around him until he’s shakily reaching for his mug. He couldn’t stay here any longer under this false pretense. He couldn’t lie to you another day, another second more. He was tired of being a sheep. It’s with this conflicting resolve that he commands himself to confess this to you at once. 

So he spills it all out to you. 

From the complex history of the Sixamians to his assignment of this mission. You listen quietly as you munch through breakfast, nodding along to each new point he brings up that changes the story. He tells you about the population mission, about how he was sent here to spread his superior genes over the land, but how he’s let that sit on the back burner while you taught him all sorts of new things. If you are unimpressed with Jungkook and Sixam, you don’t show it. 

“So you came to... breed?” you ask when he has finished, hands neatly folded on your lap. Breakfast is finished, plate scraped clean. 

Jungkook nods shamefully. “I was asked to contribute to the reconstruction of Planet 43 Z-7,” he says, repeating the practiced reasoning every Sixamian has heard at least once in their life. But in front of you, it makes him cringe. 

The grandfather clock in the hallway clicks along quietly, the soundtrack to Jungkook’s desperate read of you. Your eyes are focused on the plate before you, lost in thought at the abundance of information he has just thrown on you. He could easily switch his influential abilities back on, brighten your mood like he has been taught to do with countless other species since the beginning of time. But it feels wrong to subject you to that, to strip you of your emotions, even if it would save him the discomfort. 

Instead he sits in silence. 

Jungkook waits patiently, even though every fiber in his being is telling him to get up and make a run for it. Escape before he can see a look of disgust aimed his way. But he has come to value your opinions as equal to his, and the thought of leaving you by yourself does not sit well with him. So he waits. 

It takes a few minutes of contemplation before you grace him with an answer, nervously rubbing your hands over your thighs. “I understand, Jungkook,” you exhale tightly. “But I don’t think I’m the partner you are looking for.”

“No! I was not— It was not my intention,” he stammers, waving his hands all over the place in his hurry to explain. He sucks in a sharp breath. “I do not wish to force such a burden on you, __,” he manages, “I would not do that to you.”

He is about to pat himself on the back for his save, when suddenly the corners of your lips take a sharp drop. “Oh, I see,” you mutter, arms self consciously wrapping around your frame. “So you don’t see me as a suitable partner?” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your drawn conclusion. “No,” he chokes, and your frown deepens. “I mean, yes, I do see you as a viable partner to engage in reproductive activities,” and now he’s spiraling, the surprised look on your face only fueling his pea-brained ramblings, “I just—I assumed you did not enjoy that? 

His excuse sounds so unbelievably weak even to his own ears. 

“What made you think that?” you ask. At the rate this conversation is going, Jungkook fears his brain will soon fry itself out. 

His mind is a spinning mess, like the inside of a vacuum that rumbles and turns with each new thought that enters. What was he supposed to say? That he’s heard you in your most intimate moments, moments where you hid from him? Or that he’s done countless scans on your body when you weren’t looking and came to the same result every time; that result being that you have never been touched by another before? And what was he supposed to draw from these conclusions if not that you abhorred such intimacy?  

“I-I heard… you,” Jungkook admits quietly. “And, I felt your emotions. They were nervous.” He does not need his thermal detector to feel the heat that floods your face. “I did not want to impose on such a fragile moment,” he continues. “And I apologize if my actions have made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” you wave off, pressing the back of your knuckles to your cheeks. “I apologize for doing something so inappropriate with you in my house.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Do you not enjoy participating in sexual activities, __?” he asks curiously. 

You gulp loudly, obviously startled by his question. Which part of it, Jungkook doesn’t know. He nudges your knee with his, urging you to answer. A shaky exhale, and then you’re rambling. “I-No, I do,” you rush out, avidly avoiding his gaze. “I, um, I just have never, uh, been with anyone.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook blinks. “Is that why your reproductive areas are strangely well preserved for a being your age? I was beginning to wonder about the complexities of Human reproduction after meeting you, __. Is there a certain tradition one must follow to copulate with you?” 

“No, no,” you rush to correct. Jungkook has obviously said something that upset you, because when you speak again your aura is tainted with the hints of irritation. “Tradition is stupid,” you explain slowly, a sense of heartache consuming him at your rather lonely figure. He is beside you, yet feels a thousand light years away from your heart. “I was just a fool.”

His gaze softens, carefully placing a hand on your knee comfortingly. He doesn’t have to say anything more, just let you know he isn’t far at all, and you understand. You lean against his shoulder, the same sad look in your eyes. The grandfather clock ticks on in the hallway, in sync with the slow rhythm of your heart. Jungkook places a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The day drags on. 

Your morning chores are finished quickly with Jungkook at your side. He obsesses over the plants and plays with Smilodon. You make apple juice today with the fruits that fall from the tree out front. Jungkook enjoys it, but not as much as lemonade. Still, it gets its own entry in his log. 

He asks more questions about your world, straying away from the ones he had last week that seemed to exclusively revolve around the fauna and flora. Now, he is interested in your Human way of life. The TV confuses him, and he doesn’t quite understand the difference between dramas and news stations. So you explain as best you can for him. 

His main issue lies in his inability to comprehend the constant strife within your planet, especially when you explain to him topics like poverty or homelessness. Sixam is nothing like Earth, he says, because everyone on Sixam is looked after and taken care of as deemed appropriate. There is no division of classes because deep down, every Sixamian acknowledges they are superior to the rest of the universe. It sounds like a utopia to you, but you’ve read enough books to know how those usually turn out. 

That fact intrigues Jungkook as well. How Humans can be aware of so many altering concepts and beliefs, yet desensitized to all. He doesn’t get it, and explaining the concept of fiction existing on a separate plane only confuses him more. 

Eventually you bring it back to tradition, somehow, that dreaded word you’ve come to abhor. Jungkook enjoys learning about your culture and your way of life, little things you do here and there. But as most things do in your life, the conversation circles back around to your failed marriage. 

“Ah,” Jungkook says. “So it is tradition to save your first reproductive act for the one you ‘marry’?” You nod, toes tucked up into the couch. It’s a little before sunset now, the orange hue of the outdoors leaking into your living room. “And then you take their last name? That is very confusing, __. I thought this last name identified you to your fellow Human, how can you so easily change it around?” 

You laugh. “It's complicated,” you offer. Jungkook chuckles as well, obviously overwhelmed with all the new information you provided him with today. 

Jungkook nods pensively but you doubt he understands. “I see,” he mumbles, fingertip tapping against the armrest he’s leaning against. It’s a tell tale sign that he desperately wants to document what you’ve said in his supercomputer bracelet but is holding back for the sake of this moment. You think it’s rather sweet. “So copulation does not always secure you a partner.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “People have different drives,” you say. “Some of them want love and some just want sex.”

“And you?” he asks suddenly, big purple eyes swirling with entire galaxies. “What would you like?” 

A lot of things, you think, but when it comes down to it, when Jungkook asks you with his pretty eyes and pouty lips, you can’t find the right words. “Both,” is your measly reply. “What about you?” 

He seems just as thrown off by your question as you, eyes widening as he leans back. The living room is bathed in warm splashes of color, the last of the sun’s rays painting Jungkook in a rather romantic light. You can’t look away. “I too would like both,” he admits, idly tracing the tip of his finger along the markings that decorate the tops of his knees. “This notion of attraction beyond the physical realm is not common in Sixam,” he answers. “Sixam is very… strict about what a relationship entails. 

You set your mug down on the side table, shuffling around until your toes poke his hip, arm thrown over the back of the couch. “How so?” you ask. 

Jungkook’s lips push out into a frown. “The Higher Sixamian Court has long since ruled that mating rituals between citizens are strictly limited to those that will produce the most immaculate genome,” he says, as if that is just another simple, everyday fact of life. It is for him, but not for you. 

“So, are you like… assigned?” you press, suddenly wondering how a being as curious and sentimental as Jungkook has survived so long in a place like Sixam. “And like, do you raise kids together?”

“Until the end of their first era,” Jungkook supplies, as if that makes the slightest bit of sense. “And sort of. Sixam is not that oppressive,” he jokes, but there is something about his eyes missing their usual glow that tips you off. “I have yet to copulate for reproductive purposes.”

You pause. “But you have for… fun purposes?” 

Jungkook looks at you seriously. And then, ever so slowly, the little marks beneath the corners of his eyes, the little triangles that usually flare blue, fade into a lovely pink shade. “I-“ he stammers, obviously flustered by your question. “I have.”

Your mouth parts into a little o. “With other Sixamians? Or….” Jungkook flushes, nods meekly. His expression seems off, like it isn’t a particular fond memory he carries. “Was it bad or something?” 

He sighs. “It is… very lacking. Nothing like the scenes depicted in your projection box.” He nods towards the TV, you barely contain a giggle at its name. You reach for your mug instead. “There is no,” he waves a hand in front of his face. The last rays of sun catch on his hand and turn his charcoal  markings a pretty gold. “No expressions of adoration beyond what is necessary. And I do not particularly enjoy that.” 

You nod understandingly. “You're soft,” you tease, watch his little triangles light up again at your words. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “so am I.”

He says nothing, just stares blankly out the front window as the sun disappears behind the horizons, leaving thousands of glittering lights in its wake. Not man made but natural; right. “I think your last name is lovely,” he suddenly announces. You chuckle against the lip of your mug, but Jungkook doesn’t find it amusing. He turns to you with that sparkling purple gaze, like you’ve hung those stars outside yourself. “There is no other __ ___ like you.”

Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the coffee steam rising from the mug or Jungkook’s unexpected reassurance. It makes your heart tender, sends a shock through your system that leaves your body buzzing. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, covering the palm he rests over the couch with yours. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. 

Ovulation ends, but your blossoming feelings for Jungkook do not go away. 

The next morning his comms remain shut off. Jungkook has never had his communications back home cut off, save for the time in his first era where he brashly spoke out against his superior in a lab. He was young and had much to learn, took too many risks and didn’t consider the consequences. He guesses he hasn’t grown much since then as he watches you tend to your garden. 

“Smilodon urinated in the closet,” he announces, witnessing the smile slowly slip off your features. He lets you revel in your annoyance for exactly two seconds before following with the phrase he heard on your box the other day. “Just kidding! You are being prank’d. 

Your frown is nothing like the expression the program’s contests exhibited following their supposed pranking. “Jungkook, that’s not funny,” you huff and his heart sinks. A soft snort. “Okay, maybe a little,” you concede with a terribly contained smile. 

He bounds over, kneels down beside you, and begins pulling the overgrown weeds out with you. “I saw it on the projection box the other day,” he explains excitedly, tossing the weeds into the bag between you two. “I did not know such pleasure could be received from silly broadcasts like that.” You nod, say something about all kinds of dumb shows existing before a pout taints your lips. “What's wrong?” 

A long sigh from you. “I think the sun isn’t reaching these,” you tell him, lifting the stem of a sad looking tomato plant. It’s the closest one to the house, often covered by the house’s shadow when the sun shines best. “They’re sad.”

He tilts his head to the side quizzically. “Sad?” he repeats, reaching for his wristband before he can stop to think. If his extensive journaling reads right, your planet’s vegetation follows similar patterns to that of another’s, requiring allotted amounts of sunlight and water to flourish. “How can it be sad?” 

Caught up in his notes, he doesn’t realize you’ve migrated to the other side of the garden now, dutifully picking out more weeds. “Well, it looks sad doesn’t it?” Jungkook glances back again. The tomato stalk is significantly droopy and malformed, smaller than its brethren who sit only a few inches away in direct sunlight. It’s colors are dulled and almost… sad. Huh. How peculiar. 

He chances one glance back at you, deems you far enough, and then channels the entirety of his energy towards the tomato plant. It wiggles a few times, kind of like it’s dancing, before you’re calling his name from the other side. “What’re you doing?” you ask, hand on your hip. Jungkook stills. 

“Um,” he drawls. The plant returns to its sulky state. 

Garbage bag full of weeds, you pass by him with a shake of your head. “Don’t do anything weird to my plants, silly,” you chide. Jungkook huffs, follows behind to take the bag off your hands. You thank him, join him for his walk around the house until he tosses the bag into the garbage can out front. Before he can retort and engage you in a playful argument regarding his superior abilities, you’re crouching down by the spigot out front. It’s making a weird hissing noise that has Jungkook frowning as he walks over. 

Right as he approaches, you make the amateur mistake of turning the handle, water spewing out from the gap between the spigot’s mouth and where it’s supposed to meet the hose. You screech, and Jungkook can’t shut it off fast enough. 

In the end, both of you are drenched. 

“Ugh,” you groan as you walk around the house to the unlocked back door. Jungkook trudges behind, just a teensy bit annoyed by the mud that quickly stains his rubber sandals. “This is so annoying!” you complain loudly, shaking yourself off like Smilodon when it accidentally fell into the sink the other day. “Ruined my day.”

At that Jungkook frowns. He does not want your day to be ruined, especially not by some faulty spigot outside. You were too good for such emotions, too perfect in his eyes. Sadness and the like did not suit you; they had no place ruining your beautiful features. You’re huffily patting yourself down at the back porch now, distress prominent on your features as you most likely consider the second load of laundry you will have to do today. 

The tomato stalk glances at him sadly from the ground, and before Jungkook can stop himself, he’s breathing in deeply and pushing his generally relaxed attitude onto you. You can be mad later, but right now Jungkook doesn’t want to see you sad. It’s effective immediately, your gloominess quickly fading away. You breathe in deeply, eyes falling shut, and when you open them again you’re offering him the most gentle smile he has ever seen. 

And a soaked through shirt that highlights the shape of your red undergarments. Jungkook’s eyes widen, unconsciously flicking down to the sight you present him with, and a different emotion floods his senses. 

It’s quite possibly his biggest mistake. Because while he can easily look away, it takes longer for those emotions to fade, and soon they’re being reflected on you. 

“Wow,” you exhale, shaking your head in confusion because these aren’t your emotions— you probably know they’re his. Jungkook feels terrible instantly. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushes out, scrambling up the steps to guide you inside. Simultaneously, he’s shutting down his influential abilities, scolding himself for slipping up with you like this. You most certainly did not want to feel this way around Jungkook, yet here he was quite literally projecting onto you. “Please, let’s go inside.” 

You nod, jolt when his hand touches the small of your back as he guides you in. “Oh,” you gasp, and Jungkook has to bite his lip to force himself from making the situation worse, from thinking thoughts you would not approve of. “Why— what's happening?” you ask in a breathy tone, lingering by the staircase Jungkook tries to push you up. 

He sighs. “I— I was trying to brighten your mood,” he admits, metaphorical ears pressed against his head like when Smilodon gets scolded for knocking down a plant. “And, um. There was— the, um, sight of your undergarments distracted me for a moment.” You glance down and seemingly become aware for the first time that your bright red bra is on display, shyly covering yourself with your arms. 

“Distracted?” you mumble softly, leaning against the banister of the stairs. Your skin is radiating more heat than Jungkook ever recalls, face demurely turned down towards the floor. He could have sworn he stopped projecting minutes again— why were you still behaving like this? Did he break you? Did he exude more energy than he meant to, accidentally extend the length of the emotions? “I’ll go upstairs now,” you announce quietly, touch his arm almost sensually as you pass by. 

Your skin is warm, that heavenly scent that Jungkook craved rolling off in waves— but he was certain he’d stopped himself before anything became too overwhelming. Were his emotions stronger than he had fooled himself into believing? There was no way he had felt or looked as riled up when he accidentally influenced you. So where exactly were these emotions coming from? What exactly was making you behave this way even after he’d withdrawn his influence? Could it be...

Jungkook watches with wide eyes, almost certain that your behavior, though sparked by his initial slip up, was entirely your own at this point. 

There was a lot of weight behind that. 

The water turns on upstairs, and he has to strain his ears, still his breathing, just for a hint of your sounds. But they’re there, quiet successors to the louder moans you’d let out the other day. They make him shiver, melt against the staircase as his cock twitches in his pants. His body comes alive, something distinctly carnal twitching beneath his skin, blossoming out at the base of his spine. 

And still, as he grinds his hand into his palm, it is not merely the sight of your red undergarments that render Jungkook useless. No, the ghost of your smile at his poorly executed prank follows, brands itself into the inside of his eyelids as he slowly falls apart. 

Was it your own emotions that had made you like that? he wonders, sinking to his knees in the hallway. If you came down right now, you’d certainly catch him. But Jungkook can still hear your muffled cries from upstairs, and furthermore, Jungkook wanted desperately for you to catch him. He knows you won’t, but the idea makes him shiver, has him coming in his bottoms shamefully. 

“What the,” he huffs, sweat trailing down his forehead. His brain replays that look in your eyes. That emotion you displayed that, although it may have been planted by him, was taken by you and magnified. Had you been just as excited by the sight of Jungkook’s wet body as he had yours? And if such was the case, was your attraction to him limited to the physical realm?

He doesn’t want to delude himself, but your words from the other day ring loudly in his ears. Soft, you had called him, for wanting something both physically and emotionally intimate. But you were the same, or so you claimed. 

Was it so wrong for Jungkook to think that ideology applied now?

That night you join Jungkook outside for his routine stargazing. He sits on the porch while you sit on your rocking chair, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jungkook retells his adventures across the universe. 

Space is bigger than you thought, with a culture far more complex than Earth’s. It makes you wonder how Jungkook, who has quite literally seen it all, can become so enamored with this place. There’s bigger and better somewhere out there; planets that won’t force terrible traditions on him or task him into ungodly missions. Yet he lingers here, in this quiet space between your garden and your house, head on your lap. 

His hair is soft, almost like silk, and he enjoys having it touched. “I do not wish to leave,” he admits quietly, empty mug long since set aside. You hum, encourage him to elaborate. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7.” 

You snort. “No way,” you say, trace your hand down his jawline. Jungkook says nothing of your wandering hands, skin warm to the touch. Some of his markings decorate his neck, curl around the pale skin in perfectly symmetrical swoops. They creep beneath the hem of his shirt, and you wonder what they look like down there. 

You flush those thoughts away, that afternoon’s events still fresh in your mind. From your understanding of the events, Jungkook had been excited at the sight of your body, so he obviously had to hold some attraction towards you. But how much of that was purely physical and how much was emotional? 

“I want to have your last name,” he announces suddenly. You choke, breath caught in your throat from the randomness of the statement. Your reaction makes Jungkook pull away from your touch, stare at you with wide eyes like you do him. 

“I— what?” you stammer, having gained back your composure. Or at least some of it. “Jungkook, I don’t think you know what that means.”

He frowns, shuffles around until he’s facing you, and lays his head across your lap again. This time, those purple eyes that dance with nebulas and stardust zero in on you. His hair tickles your bare thighs, makes you unconsciously press them together when his warm breath fans across your skin. “You amaze me,” he murmurs, eyes glazed. “I have never seen a being like you, who lives so far off from society, thrive in their own bubble— is it too much for me to want to live like you? Be with you?”

“Huh?” you ask, ever so eloquently. 

Jungkook smiles, turns his face to hide it against you. Pink lips brush against your skin, your hands unconsciously shooting into his hair to guide him away. When his head rolls back, he’s got this rather melancholy look on his face. “The beauty of the universe lies entirely on Planet 43 Z-7,” he says again, “and I am looking right at her.” 

Your face burns. 

Heart hammering in your chest, palms sweaty, you don’t know what to say. He looks at you with that vibrant gaze, drinks you in like you’re the finest of wines and your heart absolutely cannot handle it. Your brain fumbles for a response but by then Jungkook is standing up, head tilted downwards cutely as he observes you. One hand in his, thumb gently swiping over your knuckles. “I would like to show you every expression of adoration possible, __,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your knuckles before disappearing back inside. 

You stay outside, turning his words inside and out, backwards and forwards, until you deduce that Jungkook of Sixam most definitely harbored the same feelings for you as you did for him. It’s odd, because it is exactly what you want but the idea scares you to death. The last time you let a man into your life under a similar guise you ended up wasting years of your life, clinging to this grand finale you never got. And now this foreign being was proclaiming his feelings for you, possibly propositioning you for the same thing. 

Did you want Jungkook? Yes, undoubtedly yes. He was free from the shackles of tradition that had held you down so long, didn’t believe in this twisted notion of your body being “sacred.” He was a breath of fresh air, unlike anyone you’ve ever met before (although part of that was due to his alien heritage).

However, he was not free of flaws, and perhaps that is what entices you more.

Jungkook, though he looked and spoke like the perfect man, was a being of his own, with struggles of his own. He too had his own handful of painful memories, toxic ideologies that followed him around. But Jungkook was willing to learn, to change. And you admired him for it. 

Tip-toeing back inside, you find the house shrouded in darkness. The steady tick of the grandfather clock lessens the rapid beating of your heart. Jungkook is sitting on the living room couch, legs pulled to his chest. Muscle memory has you reaching out for the top of his head like always, ready to pat his fluffy hair as if you hadn’t just spent the last twenty minutes outside doing just that. He turns around just as your fingers touch his soft strands, purple eyes meeting yours. You trace your hand down the side of his face, knuckles brushing over his cheekbones; he puckers his lips, bestows a second tender smooch against you. 

“I like when you do that,” he says, voice unexpectedly loud in the otherwise silent house. As he speaks, he shifts to the side, arm thrown over the back of the couch to look at you completely. You swipe your thumb over his bottom lip and he gulps. “Makes me crazy.” 

You chuckle, releasing him to round the couch. Jungkook’s got this sweet smile on his face, hand outstretched for you. When you take it, he tugs you onto the couch, flush beside him. Your thigh is practically thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. You heart flutters and you can no longer look him in the eye. 

But that’s okay because Jungkook can. He ducks down, dark hair tickling your skin as his breath ghosts over your lips. “May I?” he asks softly, nose bumping against yours. “May I have the honor of pleasuring you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, answering with a tiny nod that makes his lower lip brush against yours teasingly. “I-If I am suitable,” you mumble, tingles spreading all over your body. 

Jungkook smiles, pretty and bright, as he turns his head to slot your mouths together. “No,” he says, “if I am suitable. You are more than enough.” Lips brush against yours, shaky breath meets yours, and then he’s kissing you. Slow yet suave, carefully molding against you as if he is afraid of breaking you. His lips are like two soft pillows, moving against yours in a practiced rhythm that makes you tremble against him. Every bit the measly virgin, but Jungkook likes you just so. 

He pulls away with a pop, his figure shadowed by the darkness of the room. But his eyes, purple irises, glow brightly. Like two pools of cosmic dust swirling around his dark pupils. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this before, but you hardly saw Jungkook in the dark anyway. He hides them too soon, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in again. 

The second time, there’s a faint flick of his tongue against your bottom lip. The action makes you gasp quietly, lips parting for a fraction of a second. But Jungkook is quick, slips his tongue past your lips. It’s lewd; his breath mingles with yours, tongue pushing against yours. Slick and dirty, spit traveling between your two mouths, but Jungkook makes sure you’re okay, sinfully wrapping his lips around your tongue when you get too brave. A moan escapes you, fingers squeezing around his. 

Jungkook squeezes back, pushes forward until you’re pressed against the back cushions of the couch. “This okay?” he husks, low-lidded eyes meeting yours when he pulls away. You nod, words caught in your throat. Jungkook’s gaze lasers in on your mouth, and he seems to have an internal debate before eventually pulling away to kiss your neck. 

You tilt your head back, choppy exhales creeping out from between your lips as he kisses down the column of your neck, untangling his hand from yours to press against your hip instead. It’s with a devastatingly slow speed that he eventually slinks away, finds himself kneeling between you on the floor with hands dancing over the tops of your thighs. Your heart is beating a thousand miles in your chest, threatening to rip itself right out when he meets your eyes a second time. 

He pushes your legs apart, not once looking away as he gently encourages you to raise one. Lips pressed against your knee, slowly trailing down the skin of your thigh. Your hand squeezes at the couch cushions. Jungkook pulls a startled yelp from you when he tugs at the backs of your knees, makes you slump down the couch with your legs perfectly spread out for him, feet flat on the floor. Then he’s back to kissing you, languidly pressing smooch after smooch against your scorching skin until he’s reaching the apex of your thighs, stilling once to look your way. 

“Go ahead,” you choke out, hands clutched over your chest, as if that’ll keep your heart from up and running away. Jungkook takes your admission and moves on, puckered lips meeting your mound through your clothing. It’s the first time you’ve ever had someone else so close to your most sensitive areas, and rightly so, you whimper. 

“Shh,” he soothes, thumb pressing against your hip as he carefully hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. You’re quivering like a leaf, lower lip bitten raw between your teeth as you watch him move between your legs. “I don’t wish to hurt you,” Jungkook murmurs. 

Another press of his mouth against you, this time right over where your bud hides, and the sensation makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His fingers tighten around the waistband of your shorts, take your underwear with them when he begins pulling them down your hips. You push yourself up briefly, let him slide them down your legs and bare yourself to him for the first time. 

Your cheeks flood with warmth, hands unconsciously reaching to pull your shirt down, but Jungkook catches you. Fingers tangle with yours, warm breath fanning over your slick folds. Unconsciously, you tense up at his proximity, the stark realization that this was the moment you had waited for for a good chunk of your life suddenly hitting you. Jungkook seems to notice you crawl inside your head, drawing you back with a squeeze around your hand, luminous eyes meeting yours. 

“If you need me to stop, I will,” he reassures you.

The blood is rushing to your ears, his words nearly lost in the madness. “Aren’t you scared?” you ask quietly, voice wobbly, holding his hands so tightly you’re surprised he doesn’t complain.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No,” he answers. “Would you like to know how I feel?”

Hesitantly, you nod. Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, but the little triangle markings beneath his eyes begin to glow. Like fireflies in the dark, two little lights that intensify as he exhales.

And then, suddenly, you’re flooded with a new wave of emotions, similar to yours but not. They feel like yours, but are distinctly his, make you arch against the cushions with a soft groan. 

At the forefront, lust that swarms your senses and makes your body melt into the couch beneath you. It makes you shiver, nipples peaked beneath your top as his feelings and their intensity grow on you. It feels like drowning, like swallowing a thick and sticky substance that lingers in your throat and refuses to go away. It’s how he feels about you at this moment, so strongly it could drown him. 

So overwhelmed with that sensation alone, you almost don’t recognize the second emotion that Jungkook takes and pours into you. 

Warm and comforting, like being embraced by a thousand doves, kissed by a swarm of butterflies. It’s different from the first, doesn’t tap directly into your physical body, but wraps around your heart, creeps into your thoughts. Until you’re rolling your eyes back open and meeting his, the feeling so plainly spelled out across his features. 

Sheer and utter adoration. 

“Oh,” you breathe, face scorching to the touch following the emotions Jungkook’s just revealed to you. 

He grins, shy, and squeezes your hand. “What do you want to do?”

Biting your lip, you take initiative and hook your knee over his shoulder, the same way he had shown you just moments prior. “Please,” you murmur, “show me more.”

And Jungkook does.

A soft kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose running along your skin teasingly. And then he’s faced with your puffy lips, pink skin slick with arousal. Jungkook sighs softly, tilts his head as if he’s analyzing his next course of action, and then carefully places his mouth against you. 

“Mmmh,” you whimper, hips instinctively bucking into the touch, never having felt such intense pleasure before. Jungkook doesn’t mind as he languidly kisses your folds, eyes shut as he loses himself in the motions. The first swipe of his tongue makes you twitch, arms flailing but Jungkook holds them down, entwined fingers pressed against the couch. 

His tongue is an entity of its own, wet muscle pressing and licking at your most sensitive areas like it was made specifically for this. Never mind talking, Jungkook’s tongue was made to lap at your pussy like this. He licks a long stripe up from your quivering hole to your engorged clit, curling at the end as if you were nothing more but a sweet for him to mindlessly play with. 

Your muscles clench up, the leg thrown around his shoulder unconsciously pulling him closer until his nose is pressed flush against your clit. Jungkook breathes in deeply, moans softly but it sends earth-shattering vibrations up your core until you’re a whimpering mess. “O-Oh,” you cry, sweat clinging to your skin as Jungkook continues lapping at your folds. 

He releases one hand, uses it to push your other leg further away to properly slot himself against you. You take the opportunity to wildly reach for him, grabby hands lost in the silky waves on his head as you urge him closer to where you need him most. You’re not even sure where that is anymore, your clit or your entrance, but Jungkook switches between the two just fine. 

That warm tongue prods at your entrance, tip sinking inside just enough to make you gasp. It’s a new experience for you, someone’s tongue touching and stroking you there, and it feels like an entirely new door opens from that action alone. You whimper his name, dig your nails across his scalp like maybe he’ll grant you a reprieve and pull away. But you don’t really want that, and so you’re happy when he stays where he is. 

The hand that had rested against the juncture of your hip glides up, lays flat over your mound with his thumb idly swirling around your clit. The combination of his tongue breaching your hole and his fingers playing along your clit makes you spasm. “Wait,” you sob, the muscles in your thighs twitching as he licks away. “I-I’m gonna—“

An overpowering wave of relief floods your senses shortly before that last syllable can escape your lips; everything goes tight and then suddenly you’re on a cloud, cum spilling from your heat and onto his waiting tongue. Jungkook licks it all up, slurps loudly against your clit as the last waves of your orgasm run their course. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing up your navel, t-shirt pushed away as he goes. 

When he reaches your face, you’re quite embarrassed to find the area around his mouth to be glistening with your juices. “You’re incredible,” he says, easygoing smile on his lips. But there’s something hard and heavy against you, snuggled between your thighs, that makes your face heat up all over again. 

You can’t find the words to respond, and lose the opportunity when Jungkook captures your lips with his again. He’s more assertive this time around, roughly pushing against you until you’re certain you’ll bruise. But it feels good, makes you wrap your hands around him as Jungkook grinds down against you. When he pulls away, he’s got this dark look on his face, out of place against such bright eyes. 

He says nothing as his hands creep up your waist, push your t-shirt and bra out of the way, until he’s cupping your breasts in his palms. Experienced hands massage them thoroughly, roll the soft skin between his fingers. His mouth is against yours again, tongues pressed together; Jungkook groans and the sound shoots straight between your thighs. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you whimper, break away from his kiss to hide your face against his shoulder.

His cock is heavy against your folds, the thick material of his pants slowly stimulating you again. The cotton brushes against you, most certainly picks up your wetness as it goes, and Jungkook lets it as he continues to grind down against you with his hands on your tits. Your hands tear their way down his back, fist the material of his shirt in your hands. “Off, off,” you plead, desperate to feel more of him against you.

Jungkook complies, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head. You were right about his markings, dark swoops and circles that decorate his chest and abdomen before tapering down around his waist. Your mouth salivates at the sight, blindly reaching for your own clothes as if one look away will make him disappear. 

He doesn’t.

In fact, the removal of both your tops only makes Jungkook hungrier, completely abandoning your lips to suck your breast into his mouth instead. “Jungk— fuck,” you wail, slipping further down the couch as you lose yourself in Jungkook’s embrace. His teeth nibble at your swollen bud, roll the sensitive skin around before pulling off with a wet pop. 

Your breath jumps when he reaches behind you, corded arm locking around your waist as he repositions the two of you, unsatisfied with the previous position. He lifts you up with his undoubtedly superior strength, one palm beneath your thigh as he plops you down across the couch more comfortably, head neatly resting on a throw pillow. 

Your heart is in your throat, desperate to memorize the man before you, inked skin, lean and meaty, vibrant violet eyes that focus solely on you. Before he can join you on the couch, Jungkook steps away, tucks his thumbs into his waistband and swiftly removes them. His engorged cock, bigger than any you’ve seen in any erotic video— and that was saying a lot —springs up against his navel, flaming tip glaring right at you. Your pussy quivers at the sight. 

“Come here,” he husks out as he moves towards you. You welcome him with open arms, a soft groan of his name against his lips as he shoves his tongue past. His hands are everywhere now; one squeezes at your breast, hand molded to the flesh, while the other runs along the underside of your thigh, guides it over his waist. And another tickles around your navel, soft—

You shriek, eyes snapping open as you tug Jungkook over you as a shield. “What was that?” you heave, wide eyes roving over the dark living room, like maybe you’ll find Smilodon traversing the carpet and it was his silky tail that came too close. 

But Smilodon doesn’t usually appear at night, nor is there anything else in the living room with you and Jungkook. Your heart hammers in your chest, carefully meeting his dark gaze until something thin and distinctively alive appears over his shoulder. Another scream tears itself from your lips.

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook shushes, pulls away to cup your face in his hands. “Forgive me,” he says tenderly, “we are so similar, I forget you do not possess extra arms.”

You pale. “E-Extra arms?” you choke, eyes focused on the thin ‘arm’ that slinks out from behind Jungkook, almost screeching again when a second one appears on the opposite side. And then a third, a fourth. 

It is no arm, but rather… a tentacle? Sans the weird suction cups. They’re thin little things, no thicker than his wrist, that dance behind him as if they have a mind of their own. They move as if suspended in water, soft lilac skin tenderly touching yours. You shiver, its smooth skin odd against your supple flesh. Jungkook relaxes, but draws them back anyway. “Forgive me,” he says again, taking your hand in his to press a peck against it. Your heart flutters at the gesture that was slowly driving you insane. “I shall keep them at bay.”

You nod shakily, but cannot deny the curiosity that picks at you when they slink back into the base of his spine, blend seamlessly against his skin. “What… what do they do?” you ask tentatively. 

Jungkook hums as he descends upon you, featherlight kisses against your shoulder and up your neck. “Hmm? They help me out,” he explains mindlessly, pulling you flush against his cock again. A moan tears itself from your throat, eyes fluttering shut as you force yourself to focus on the moment again. 

But your hands unconsciously wander down his spine as he kisses you, circle the skin where your swear they had to have disappeared beneath, until Jungkook is pulling away with a confused expression on his face. “Would you like to see them again?” he asks quizzically, sweat forming along his hairline. 

You cannot play it off any longer; meekly, you nod. “I— they were interesting,” you admit in a quiet voice, nervously twiddling your fingers over your chest. 

Jungkook says nothing for a second, until he’s lightly chuckling and pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Okay,” he concedes, and goes back to rolling his hips against yours. 

About to protest, the words are robbed from your throat when something soft and blunt tickles your thigh. “Oh,” you shudder, prevailing through the initial shock as Jungkook’s ‘arm’ slides around the diameter of your thigh to brush against your cunt. It’s silky and smooth, pushes against your lips until it’s emerging past them, slipping inside of you.

You gasp, head lolling backwards as the sensation gets to you. It feels the same as your fingers do when you’re in the shower, but it moves differently, gauging your reactions as it curls within your walls. Jungkook muffles a low chuckle against your chin, kisses spread over you until his tongue is back down your throat.

“Feels good?” he asks, hot mouth against yours. You nod jerkily, hands digging into his biceps. Another appendage tickles around your waist, dips into your navel and makes you giggle. It’s a sound that’s frankly out of place amongst your moans and whimpers, but it makes Jungkook smile. It eventually moves away, continuing its soft caresses elsewhere. 

The one that plays in your pussy has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, jaw slack. Perfect for Jungkook who pushes and prods until his saliva is dripping down your throat, catching in the corners of your lips. It impossibly fattens inside of you, makes you choke just as a different one dances around your neck. “I— I,” you stutter, boneless beneath him as the soft tip traces around the column of your neck tenderly, lovingly. 

There’s so many different areas to focus on: one rubs comfortingly beneath your breast, while another fucks into your cunt. The contrast has your head spinning, unsure of where to look. 

There’s something about the one inside of you that makes you feel so sticky and wet, more so than before. Like it’s oozing something out, making the glide against your walls smoother than before. It makes your body tingle, sends a feeling down your spine that you’re almost certain isn’t normal. 

At the same time, there’s a brush along your thigh again, a tight coil around the flesh of your skin tightly that encourages your legs apart. More room for Jungkook to squeeze in. It wraps around you, slithers past its sibling and prods against your ass. Your heart skips a beat, buck into Jungkook’s embrace as it slips between your cheeks— you gasp. It releases that same substance that makes everything so wet. You tremble at the touch, body already so overwhelmed. 

Your attention is snatched away before anything can happen, Jungkook tugging you closer until the ridges of his cock are running along your folds, each push sending his goddamn tentacle deeper inside of you. You moan, hands shakily traversing his skin until you’re cupping his face in your palms. “More,” you hoarsely whisper, dazed eyes meeting his. “Please.”

Jungkook nods, presses one more kiss against your lips before shuffling around. The appendage inside of you swiftly recoils, has you shivering from the way it slips out of you so easily. As it finally emerges from your folds, you find it’s slick with cum and something slightly pink, sparkly and wet as if it’s got precum of its own. The sight amazes you, makes you want to touch it. Before you can, it’s moving again. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t go away, doesn’t return to hide within Jungkook’s body, but wraps around his cock tightly. Purple tendril against engorged skin, makes him sigh at the squeeze. 

He holds the base of his cock, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek as he regards you with an unrecognizable look. One hand on your thigh, fingers gripping tightly even before he’s done anything. “Tell me you want this,” he exhales, “please?” 

You nod hurriedly, hands reaching for his hips to urge him closer. “Want this,” you assure him, quiver when the head of his cock presses against your folds. Bigger than your fingers, bigger than that damned appendage, and it was going inside of you. “Want this so bad,” you whimper, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. A squeeze around your breasts, a flick against your nipples. It’s not Jungkook’s hands, and that fact makes you shiver. 

They curl around your breasts, frame the mounds gently before the flatted tips meet your nipples, tease them with featherlight nudge. 

Eased by the certainty of your words, Jungkook relaxes. He places a hand on your hip, the other still holding his cock as he lines himself up with your throbbing entrance. You’re so wet, dripping in your own cum and whatever that tentacle released, thighs slippery and shiny. The anticipation in your chest swells, pushes against your rib cage until you’re afraid it’ll break. The little markings beneath his eyes flash and suddenly it’s gone, replaced with a sense of comfort that only doubles when he flashes you a tiny smile.

The first press of his cock makes your back arch, has you knocking every throw pillow off the couch as he slowly eases his way in. “Oh god—“ you sob, the sudden intrusion being questioned by every muscle in your body. Immediately, two of his tentacles snap forward, release their soft grip on your neck and their wrap around your breasts to caress up your sides, smooth ends practically kissing your skin with their soft nudges. 

They by no means lessen the pain, but their butterfly touches are a nice distraction that tickles your skin, makes you whimper softly as Jungkook slowly sinks into you. 

Jungkook ducks over you, tip of his nose against yours. “Breathe for me,” he instructs, even though his breath is labored against yours. One appendage cups your cheek, curls softly around your ear to hold your head still— you feel so spoiled with all the attention. You make an effort, breathe in swiftly through your nose as Jungkook pushes in deeper.

Slowly, the discomfort fades away. It melts and in its wake you’re left with a dull numbing sensation that starts in your toes and magnifies as it reaches your ears. It grows until the weight of his cock inside of you has you drooling, eyes unfocused as you watch Jungkook push himself to the hilt, the ridges of the tentacle wrapped around his cock making you jolt with every push. 

At the same time as his cock thrusts inside of you, a sneaky little thing continues it’s dance between your cheeks, pokes and kisses at your hole like it’s testing you. It is, really, because you've never had anything up your ass before— up until a few moments ago, you had barely had anything in your pussy. 

This was your first time, yet two seperate holes were begging to be filled, clenching tightly at Jungkook kisses along your chest, hands wound beneath the small of your back. The playful tentacle near your behind does just that— plays until you gently reach back for it, trembling hands giving it the go ahead it needs to finally plunge itself within you. Like an excited little being, it flutters against your hand a soft, kiss-like press against your palm before returning to its favored spot. 

It chooses the perfect moment to press in, takes advantage of Jungkook’s first few slow thrusts to slip its way inside. A loud moan tears itself from your throat, and Jungkook joins along. “I-I’m sorry,” he pants, mouth against yours. “I-I just want to feel you.”

You shake him off, body twitching from the utter fullness you felt, the weight in between your folds and your ass that moves in opposing strokes. His cock, wrapped in those bulging ridges, pushes in just as the tentacle in your rear pulls out, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper and sob. 

It feels good, amazing even, and you almost can’t believe it’s happening. Jungkook’s lips slot against yours, slow and lazy as he lets your body grow familiar with the stretch. He kisses you until the cat-like grip you have on his shoulders weakens, replaced with wandering hands that trail down his spine. The base of his spine where his protrusions appear is unique, makes him buck against you when you wrap your hands around one appendage.

“S-Sensitive,” he says as an apology, never mind the fact you want him desperately to fuck into you like that again. You voice such thoughts and Jungkook groans against your skin. “Really?” He chokes out, “I can move?”

One nod and then he’s off, for real this time. 

He’s slow at first, like he’s hesitant about hurting you, but you tuck one leg around him, pull him closer until he’s forced deeper inside of you, and from there everything is a downward spiral. You forget Jungkook of Sixam is superior for more than just one reason, harsh reminder given in the strong snap of his hips that would have otherwise sent you flying off the couch if that same strength wasn’t channeled into the arms he held you with. 

You reach for his hair, desperate to feel that comforting silk between your fingers, but then there’s something wrapping around your wrists. It pins your hands down, twists around your wrists twice before snaking up and curling along your fingers. Like it wants to hold your hand, wants to fill the spaces for Jungkook. The thought makes you burn, insides a boiling mess as he fucks into you, hands held down above your head.

“Jungkook,” you sob, squirming in his hold. It’s like whenever you move, there’s something there, holding you down or fucking you senseless. He responds with a grunt, roughly thrusting into you over and over until all you can manage is a series of hiccups. 

The ridges around his cock, the added thickness lended to him by his extra appendage, has every shove past your lips sending tingles like an ascending xylophone shooting throughout your body. The rhythmic stretches make you huff like a dog against him, brain fuzzy and overwhelmed. 

At the same time as he delivers killer grind after grind, another arm, the one that had been left out of the fray, slithers around your chest, looping twice around your frame and caging your breasts between them. Like bondage, except it’s Jungkook’s own body holding you down. 

You don’t think about the absurdity of it too much, couldn’t anyway. Your brain is a scrambled mess of Jungkook’s lips and incandescent eyes, lost in the purple galaxies and stars he holds, slowly slipping away from reality with each brutal thrust he gives. His name tumbles from your lips, and yours from his. He holds you like you’ll slip away, sweaty skin pulling you impossibly closer with each roll of his hips.

The thick appendage buried within your ass makes you squirm. It’s a tight fit, one you don’t get too stuck on because for every reprieve from its maniac thrusts you are met with the equally ferocious slam of Jungkook’s cock. So it stays in the back of your mind, this curling tentacle that stretches the tight rim of your ass apart. 

You were stuffed to the brim, eyes rolling back as you struggled to keep up. A soft brush along your jawline makes you gasp, before your mouth is tentatively filled with something soft and pulsing. Oh, you would die, you think, mindlessly sucking around the tentacle squeezed between your lips. It fattens in your mouth, pushes roughly against your tongue in rhythm with Jungkook’s cock. You cough, gag even, but it doesn’t move away. It drips a thick substance down your throat, disgustingly sweet. 

“Please, please,” he pants, quiet and lost among your own higher-pitched moans. Your leg hikes itself further up, accidentally brushes at the base of where two of his tentacles protrude, and Jungkook jolts against you. His cock presses so deep into your walls, you swear you feel him kiss your cervix. “__,” he pants, tongue lapping at the skin of your neck, picking up the sweat and replacing it with his thick saliva. “Be mine, please.”

Your heart pounds with the beat of a marching band's pace, loud thundering that competes against the slapping of Jungkook’s skin against yours. You whimper around the weight in your mouth, the idea he places in your head only fueling that lifelong dream of yours. Your grip around the appendages that hold your wrists down tightens, its faint heartbeat-like pulse felt between your fingers. 

“Let me be yours,” Jungkook moans, pulls out once only to slam his cock past your folds, hold himself there as your brain scrambles to rewire itself. As he says this, your mouth is freed, saliva and that sticky wet substance sloppily splattering across your lips and chin at the rather harsh exit. “And you will be mine.”

“Yes, yes!” you choke, dribbling drool down your chin.

It ends too soon.

Jungkook reaches a hand down, thumb feeling for your clit, but he’s pressed so tightly against you, it takes a second before the rough pad makes contact. That simple swipe, one half circle, is enough to make you unravel. “J-Jungkook,” you wail, biting down against his shoulder, “I’m—“

Your orgasm swallows you whole, his tentacle in your ass joining alongside you. It bursts inside of you, makes your ass leak with cum when it finally pulls out. 

“I’ve got you,” he shudders, stills when your pussy clenches down around him, creamy pleasure dripping down around his cock. Your cries fill the air, body falling slack against the couch as you struggle to recover. Your head is a foggy mess, clouded by the slow snap of Jungkook’s hips as he reaches his arousal. Each push against your folds feels even more intense now, overstimulated walls fluttering wildly around him as his cock slips in. 

His body stiffens and he swiftly pulls out, every ridge of his cock sucked back by your pussy, and when he finally frees himself— from your clenching walls and his tightly-gripping tentacle—he spills over your abdomen. Sticky and pink, like the strawberry lube you keep in your drawer, except its come out of Jungkook as a result of your rump in the sheets. 

As quickly as his body locked up, it slumps just as fast, heavy muscles and long limbs crashing down over you before you can react. 

“Jungkook—“

The sun shines in through the front window, wakes him from his slumber slowly and then all at once. He accidentally shifts into a patch of sunshine, the blinding light irritating his eyes until Jungkook is forced awake. His body aches but has never felt better, a weird sense of relaxation flooding his senses. For a moment, he is confused.

Eyes scan over the room, purple irises carefully calculating every bit of information until he catches sight of Smilodon’s furry tail and the memories of last night come swarming back in. He sits up quickly, whirling around for any glimpse of you, only to find you’re nowhere in sigh—

“Morning.” A small hand atop of his head, fingers stroking against his scalp. Instantly, Jungkook melts into the touch. 

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where you get to work making the usual breakfast for you and Jungkook. He watches you from the couch, naked beneath the blanket you’ve so graciously covered him with. The sun leaks into the kitchen, paints you in soft shades of orange as you amble around the area. 

The scent of hot cocoa fills the air, calling him to the space behind you after he dresses. “Good morning,” he says shyly, presses a kiss against your shoulder. Hesitantly, he lets his hands slide around your waist, lock over your navel. You don’t push him away, simply pat the side of his head as Jungkook snuggles into you. 

You don’t speak about last night and neither does he. You eat eggs for breakfast and Jungkook playfully knocks his foot against yours beneath the table. “Don’t play footsies with me,” you laugh. Jungkook quite likes footsies. 

Morning chores are skipped, pushed off in favor of sitting in front of the couch. You sit beside him, flush against his side, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. The projection box tells him about the weather, says something about a stock market, but other than that, it is relatively quiet. 

There is no mission to complete, no tradition to uphold. It is just Jungkook in this new and not as scary world. The mailman always visits, and Smilodon shows his face every now and then. It is a routine he adores, but not as much as the Human at his side.

He doesn’t remember taking his headpiece off until it beeps from its spot on the coffee table, three distinctive chirps that signal an incoming call from the Higher Sixamian Court.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[finrays]

25) Smoke!

More of Indenture, here. Establishing an important piece of this AU; only a small handful of Zeniths actually knew about these fellas.

The ones that found out? Well... they tended to “disappear.”

Who are these two characters? ...well! I don’t know! Insert your favorite Old Ones here :)

-

The signal cuts out with such abruptness that her knees buckle, and the front of her helmet clangs sharply against the railing, leaving a smear of polish across the visor. Something cracks and hisses into her ear, and, after a few dizzying moments, her brain manages to recalibrate itself.

 Ughhh… what was that? Where am I? I’m not… outside the colony, am I?

She’s crouched on the top deck of a dual-tiered room, head pressed against the latticework base of a balcony railing. Standing and grasping the top for support reveals an opulent lounge, dotted with plush couches and ornately carved tables. Silk reproductions of potted plants inhabit corners and tabletops, and the walls are dotted with hologram projections of classical pieces of art.

But what gives it away is the massive screen taking up the far wall. At first, it looks… just like a window, displaying a view of the familiar keeled domes of the Neoterra colony. But the occasional flicker and trick of the light gives the true nature of the display away.

 No windows… This is the Odyssey. The ship… why am I on the ship?

“Hey.”

The voice startles her out of her own head, and she leans over the railing, peering down onto the lower tier of the room. Another armored figure is just beginning to struggle to their feet, using the broom clutched in their hand for balance. Taking a deep breath and shuddering from head to foot, her fellow prisoner throws a quick look over their shoulder, before turning the inscrutable helmet back toward her.

“You’re awake too, aren’t you? What happened?”

The voice sounds masculine. And… vaguely familiar, somehow.

She wants to reply. To ask if they’re all right, to celebrate the fact that she’s not the only stolen Earthling to have made it through the years. To ask for their name. But all she manages is a strangled khhhhk sound. At the base of her chin, something tightens uncomfortably as she works the muscles.

Her fellow prisoner seems to know what’s happening. From here, she can just barely make out his sympathetic intake of breath.

“Oh… they stopped your throat up. I’m sorry… Here, let me come up.”

Tossing the broom aside, he crosses to one of the double staircases leading up to the balcony and joining her at the railing. One gloved hand reaches out to rest atop her own.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know…. who, or what you all were until… just about a month ago. I confronted the Administrator about it. That’s… the last thing I remember.”

The revelation tilts her world, and she can’t help but stare.

They didn’t… all know? And… the ones who did find out…? How long have they been doing this? How many have they “disappeared” into our ranks?

As she’s considering how best to respond, the image at the back of the screen erupts in a burst of light, and she whips her head around just in time to catch the tail end of a fireball, blooming from one of the domes at the rear of the colony. A muffled boom sounds through the Odyssey’s walls, rattling the floor. Smoke rises in a thick column from the site of the explosion as the debris begins to fall out of sight.

Her companion pulls his hand away, gripping the rail for balance. She can’t see his eyes through the dark visor, but she can imagine that they’re wide with shock.

“What is that!?”

As if on cue, one of the other domes at the colony’s front goes up in smoke as well, the keeled top buckling inward with an audible crash. Letting go of the rail, she seizes him by the wrist, tugging him away from the screen and toward the stairs. At first, he’s reluctant to go, eyes still glued to the screen in horror. Her insistent tugging does, however, eventually serve to break the spell, and he yanks his gaze away.

“Alright, yes. I think you’re right.”

There are others scattered throughout the ship as well, all of them confused by their sudden awakening. Some of them rasp wordlessly at her, their throats affixed with the same silencing device that’s been applied to her own larynx. Others stammer out bewildered questions, ones which her companion answers for her.

Whatever their reaction, they quickly fall in behind the pair, forming a roving pack as she leads them toward the front of the ship. They’re ten in total by the time they reach the cockpit; the doors glide open automatically, rattling a little on long-abandoned floor tracks, and she darts inside, jabbing a finger toward the console, and then miming the turning of a huge wheel, and pressing her hands together, before pulling them apart, like a pair of folding doors.

It takes a moment of group puzzlement to solve the game of charades… several other prisoners call out their thoughts, while those with laryngeal implants like hers make their own gestures.

But, eventually, one of the prisoners in the back lands on the answer.

“You want to prime the engines. And open the airlock. Let anyone who might be fleeing get inside.”

Eagerly nodding, she points across the crowd’s head toward the speaker. It’s probably a bad idea; there’s no telling just what’s happening inside the domes, and what they might be inviting aboard, with the airlock hanging wide open. But…

…but can they really shut everyone out, when there’s a chance that they can save some lives? And, equally importantly… can they fly the ship successfully, without knowing which pieces will respond to their commands, and which will remain stubbornly inert?

Another crashing boom from the colony domes outside makes her tense. The implant sends a buzz through her that rattles the base of her skull.

Her original companion seems to see her point; his slow nod gradually gains speed, and spinning on his heel, he jerks an arm toward the split in the hall.

“…all right. You heard our friend. Let’s go. Hatch!”

The interface is simple enough to understand; a low-power AI, of the sort she remembers from the last days of Earth. Communicating with it without using voice commands proves to be… a bit of a challenge, yes. But with the help of one of the others (who, blessedly, notices her struggle and steps forward to offer their assistance,) the engines begin their warmup sequence, the fuel pumps filling them with the initial bolus that they’ll need to get off the ground, and to generate the forward thrust they’ll need to launch them off onto a new course along the stars.

As she checks over the instruments and their readings one last time, her original companion lays a hand on her shoulder, giving it a little tug.

“It’s open. We need to hide.”

Spinning toward the source of the annoyance, she raises a hand, swatting at his arm irritably. The implant's hum is really starting to get to her, now... is there something wrong with it? Even as much as she hates the damned thing, and the way it scrambles her thoughts, rendering her a docile, biddable sleepwalker, the thought of something so close to her brain malfunctioning scares her.

But... she can't think about that now. Not with the colony falling apart, as evidenced by yet another explosive boom from the outside.

Her friend holds firm as she swats at him, keeping his light grip on her shoulder, even as her fingers chivvy at his wrist.

“They’ll make a run for the ship. If they find us… if they know we’re awake…”

The implication sinks in, and slowly, she lets her hand drop.

…ah. She can see his point, now. And…

And the doors are open, and the launch sequence primed. There’s no need for them to stick around, now that the Odyssey is ready to go.

The survivors will take care of the rest.

Nodding her assent, she lets him take the lead, rounding up the survivors and leading the way through the gilded corridors and directing them through shortcuts that she wouldn’t have dreamed of; the doors glide open at the touch of his hand, recognizing his genetic print.

He really does know the ship, she thinks, as he helps the last of the others through the raised doorway of the vivarium, and he wasn’t lying about having been under his own power on the outbound flight.

Suddenly weary, she sets her back against the wall, sliding down to sit in an untidy heap at its base. The crackle over the back of her ear spikes and intensifies as she leans her head back against the wall.

She has no idea what comes next. It’s exhausting.

Her first friend settles beside her as the others begin to spread out through the space. His voice sounds equally as tired as she feels.

“We won’t hold out forever. At some point, we’re going to have to move, or leave to find supplies. Or maybe they’ll just… start the signal up again and that’ll be the end of things. But…”

Holding up an arm, he offers her his hand.

“…let’s take care of our friends… and enjoy having our minds to ourselves while we can. Right?”

Beneath them, the engines shudder to life, and the subtle shift of gravity as the ship leaves the ground pulses up through the metal of the floor.

Despite her weariness, she finds herself smiling beneath the helmet. Reaching out, she clasps the proffered hand, giving it a little shake.

 Yeah. Absolutely. For as long as we can…

 …we’ll keep them all safe.

[dreadlord-mr-son]

Among the best advice I’ve ever got for improving my social relationships and reducing beating myself up, was replacing apologies with thanks.

Instead of “Sorry I’m late.” -> “Thanks for waiting.” Instead of “Sorry I’m rambling.” -> “Thanks for listening.”

This de-emphasizes “I’ve dome something wrong” and emphasizes your appreciation for the other person. That instead of you doing something requiring an apology, they did something nice.

It’s actually fairly subtle? But it adds up. And the more you do it, the more automatic it becomes.

Thanks for listening. Thanks for being there. Thanks for waiting. Thanks for your time. Thanks for showing up.

Here’s something I just said to a friend on Discord: Haaa, thanks for letting me bounce my thoughts off you btw Lemme know if it's ever too much

I was rambling on about my Colony AU fanfic and an idea I had for it. And I started to feel bad. I was talking and talking and they were barely responding. I was starting to feel like I was being boring or annoying. So I stopped and said... thank you. Thank you for listening. Thank you for letting me talk to you about this thing I’m so passionate about. And I opened room for setting a boundary in the future. Let me know if it’s too much.

Let’s imagine an alternative phrasing that might be very familiar to some of you: Sorry for talking so much Feel free to tell me to shut up

Compare the two version for a few moments. How much different is that energy? Which would you rather see from a friend you love who’s very anxious? Which do you think your friends would rather hear from you? They probably love hearing you talk. They don’t want you to feel like you’re some annoying trash who should just shut up.

I’m working on it. If you find yourself saying “sorry” all the time over minor things just in case you’re upsetting someone?

Consider saying “thanks”, instead.

[novantinuum]

Novantinuum’s SU fic masterpost

I saw a mutual do this, (and please go check out mimik-u’s fic masterpost, she makes lovely stuff), and thought it was a brilliant idea for ease of access on tumblr. So, without further ado:

Crack the Paragon series:

My largest fic project. Currently well over 60,000 words. ‘Tis a canon-divergent AU branching off from the episode Bismuth, wherein old secrets are accidentally revealed two seasons early, and Steven’s world is heavily shaken by these revelations. The second and third stories are one-shots set in between specific chapters of the main fic.

Crack the Paragon (AO3, 13/40 chapters, 59K words)

In another world, he doesn't have his mother's sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Everything is Different Now (AO3, one-shot, 1K words)

After her unfortunate exile, Bismuth returns to her forge to work, and to reflect on her mistakes.

Seeing Pink (AO3, one-shot, 2.4K words)

Following a video call with Connie, Steven reacts to the discovery that... his eyes aren’t always human anymore.

Multi-chapter:

All but the first two of these stories are actually included amidst my ongoing Brandishing the Star series, but I’m placing them here since they’re all more than one chapter.

Hollowed Moon (AO3, 14 chapters, 8K)

[DISCONTINUED]

Stevonnie doesn't crash the Star Skipper onto that jungle moon. Instead, they crash on a craggy fragment of rock suspended thousands of miles away from its associated colony, long forgotten.

On that lonely hunk of rock is a domed garden.

And standing in that garden, just as lifeless seeming as the rest of it, is a pink Gem.

Misalignment (AO3, 17/? chapters, 11.8K~ words)

His family’s not present the third time he runs away... They never see the creature he becomes.

Early corruption AU.

(AN: Contains a brief sequence of body horror in the first chapter.)

Contact (AO3, 4 chapters, 16K words)

The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

(AN: Major character injury to Steven + eventual healing.)

Second Skin (AO3, 10/12 chapters, 6.4K words)

Steven can’t help but dread the undefined cocktail of emotions that trigger this newest power...

12 shorts, each delving into Steven’s developing opinions and feelings about his “pink mode” in SUF.

(AN: Deals with delicate topics such as self-hatred and intrusive thoughts.)

Oceans (AO3, 6 chapters, 5.3K words)

A series of shorts detailing what might've happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Intake (AO3, 2 chapters, 6.4K words)

Steven fills out an important form.

(AN: Some Steven and Greg bonding in the second chapter of this one. Deals with topics such as therapy, depression, and mental illness in general.)

Brandishing the Star one-shots:

All of the stories in this series are standalone, and were written to be canon compliant when I originally made them. Two of them aren’t anymore after SUF, but oh well! XP

(See more under cut.)

Tipping Point (AO3, 1.1K words)

Garnet helps remind Rose of what she’s fighting for.

New Star (AO3, 1.3K words)

Organic life is a fragile, fickle thing. This much is true. What's also true is how the death and resurrection of a humble lion was enough to make Rose Quartz re-conceptualize everything.

On the Origin of Hybrids (AO3, 1.6K words)

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while Greg’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

His Shield (AO3, 300~ words)

Greg attempts to comfort his son during a thunderstorm.

Donut Debrief (AO3, 1.5K words)

Two days after their disastrous island adventure, Sadie and Steven talk about regrets, making amends, and discover something they have in common with each other.

Autumn Bliss (AO3, ~550 words)

Is there any better way to spend a crisp autumn day than playing around in piles of leaves?

Written for Connvember, day 1.

Alienation (AO3, 1.1K words)

“But... I’m human,” he whispers to himself, the words tasting more like a desperate plea for belief on his tongue. “Or at least, part human. Right?”

An awkward interaction with his dad and Connie leads Steven to realize that he's now too Gem to all the humans in his life.

Ramen Soup For the Soul (AO3, 250~ words)

Steven and Connie noisily slurp some soup at the dinner table.

Creative Outlet (AO3, 800~ words)

“Log date, 7 14 9.

“Today, the hybrid creature Steven attempted to further secure my loyalty by introducing me to a concept he calls... ‘music.’”

Taste of Ordinary (AO3, 5.4K words)

When a much needed moonlight conversation with his best friend turns into an attempted (and failed) "spring break" from all his responsibilities as a half-Gem, Steven finally comes to terms with the full truth of his heritage and all six thousand years of its consequences.

Takes place between The Question and Made of Honor.

(AN: Originally planned to be 3 chapters, but discontinued. IMO the first chapter still stands decently well as its own thing, though.)

Ballroom Etiquette (AO3, 2.8K words)

In which Steven is publicly introduced to the Gems of Homeworld as Pink Diamond, and he experiences the first true stage fright of his life.

Finally Free (AO3, 1.6K words)

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

Vulnerable (AO3, 700~ words)

Three words.

Three little words, and the intergalactic conflict he‘d been training his whole childhood to defend against was over.

But the hurt... he's not sure the hurt will ever go away.

Cycles (AO3, 1.2K words)

Amidst their danger-fraught mission to retrieve Pyrope and Demantoid's prisms, Pearl and Steven take a much needed break.

Fifteen (AO3, 1.6K words)

Every year, on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Pearl runs away.

Freedom to Dance (AO3, 350~ words)

Stevonnie celebrates the first anniversary of Era 3 with their friends and reflects on how Homeworld has already changed.

Stardust (AO3, 600~ words)

White Diamond is testing out new terms of endearment. But no matter White’s intention with this little nickname, Steven doesn’t want it.

Bi the Way... (AO3, 2.8K words)

Connie has a question, and also something to say.

(AN: Not canon compliant now, ahah, since this fic assumes Steven and Connie are dating after the movie, and this doesn’t seem to be the case in SUF.)

The Shatter Wish (AO3, 1K words)

You’re 16 years and 2 months old (give or take a few days) when you finally realize you want to die.

(Steven's POV, second person)

(AN: This fic deals with delicate topics like depression and suicidal thoughts.)

Errands (AO3, 3K words)

Steven has an endless stream of items on his to-do list, so many that he often forgets to properly take care of himself in between.

Sneaking off into the woods on the daily to vent out his repressed emotions is merely one of them.

(AN: Not canon compliant now.)

The Brother on the Other Side (AO3, 2.9K words)

Lars has no idea what he was expecting the moment Steven texted him in the middle of the night to ask if he could come over, but being immediately tackled in an intense vice-grip of a hug the second he opened the door probably wasn’t it.

Like Clockwork (AO3, 500~ words)

Connie's got mountains of studying to do.

(It's not just an excuse to avoid reminders of old traumas, of course it's not! Everything's fine.)

Fight the Future (AO3, 3.6K words)

She’s poofed, he repeats to himself like a dying man’s mantra. She’s poofed. She’s stuck in the rubble, but she’s only poofed. She’s fine, and I’m fine, a-and—

Above the scars of Steven's wreckage, thunder claps like mighty titans colliding in the heavens.

(Or: what happens in the moments after Steven and Jasper's rematch.)

(AN: There’s kinda some sanity slippage here, as well as general mental unwellness.)

A Memoir of the Marks Unseen (AO3, 6.7K words)

Steven’s messy self-corruption has scarred him in a manner that transcends the mere physical.

Battling through suffocating waves of self-loathing and relapse, the  path towards healing and acceptance is set to be his most challenging  venture yet… but in a unexpected twist of fate, he eventually comes to  find a cathartic solace in the tangible marks left behind.

(AN: Deals with delicate topics such as depression, and also contains light body horror.)

Ticklish (AO3, 2.6K words)

In which Connie’s subconscious, innocent touch helps Steven realize just how nice the sensation of gentle fingertips gliding across the surface of one’s gem can be.

Connverse fluff.

No Escaping the Weather (AO3, 5.7K words)

Amidst an unusually stormy late summer’s day, Steven finally amasses the courage to confide in his dad about one of his greatest traumas.

(AN: Contains flashback sequences and a panic attack.)

(Our) Shadows Before the Dawn (AO3, 950~ words)

It's their nights that are the most difficult.

(AN: Steven and Connie hurt/comfort, post SUF. Deals with delicate topics such as panic attacks.)

Tides of Renewal (AO3, 2.5K words)

Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

(AN: Contains conversation about mental illness and vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Other one-shots:

Shattering Atlas (AO3, 4.2K words)

A boy can only carry an entire galaxy upon his back for so long before the weight of it all finally becomes too much.

(AN: A speculative one-shot about the “corrupted Steven theory” written pre-SUF. Deals with delicate topics such as depression, and also contains body horror.)

The Price of Freedom (AO3, ~800 words)

Even while sightless, even when she only exists as thin fingers of light rapidly spreading outwards from her gem, Rose can sense that something is deeply, dreadfully wrong.

Written for Whumptober 2020, Day 1: Waking up restrained.

[vintageghoststories]

dsmp apocalypse au that i won't finish el oh el

-the world ends becouse of a nucluar bomb that messed the world up, making it mostly unhabitable. ppl here have groups called colonies basically trying to stay alive with what little resources they have, there are also scanvergs who are basically people or groups that hunt down or attack ppl/colonies

- 30 years ranboo and tubbo meet up, ranboo can't remember shit bc of an accident however he does remember a girl with bright pink hair, tubbo agrees to help him find her in return of helping him with his injury

-tubbo and ranboo bond and tubbo reveals that he used to be in a colnany before someone exiled his best friends and their was a massive fight which lead to tubbo having burn scarss from a bomb/fireworks(whch is what ranboo is trying to help heal)

-The continue wandering around until one night they are woken up by someone going through their stuff, turns out that person is tommy in it and he is ready to fight for this stuff, as is tubbo

-tommy calls for help and philza, otherwise known as "The angel of death" because of his relations to Kristen(who is the one of the only known person to have survived the explosion that destroyed the most of world and nucleation doesn't affect her bc yeah, also she has basically nuclear energy its a thing. she is nicknamed Death bc of this)

-Tubbo freaks out bc suprise! he knows tommy from the colony bc tommy was friend that got exiled and is hanging out with one of the most well known scavengers, unfortunately tommy doesn't requainze tubbo bc he is wearing a gasmask and his hair covers the other half of his face

-tommy is about ready to beat them up but tubbo takes off his mask and tommy stops before takle-hugging tubbo, they all introduce each other and tommy offers to let them stay at their bunker, tubbo accepts

-they head down to the bunker where they also meet Wilbur, who was the other person to be exiled, techno, who is known as the blood god for his brutality in taking down corrupt conlynis in his past, jack manifold, he's just kinda there lol, and niki

-tubbo and tommy go to talk alone leaving ranboo to talk with technoblade and phil, they explain to him what their actual history is like rather than the myths that people believe about them

-while this is happening tommy reveals that all of the ppl here are trying to built "The Dome" aka a safe heaven that would be big enough for a colony without the worry of , tommy says that they could really use his genius, before tubbo answers jack grabs tommy to go to a meeting leaving tubbo alone

-jack also gets techno and phil and has a brief introduction with rambo before leaving him, ranboo finds his way to tubbo and tubbo convitivese him to help him listen into the meeting

-in the meeting its revealed that niki actually knows ranboo and was quite close with him[i'm still deciding if i want to add sibling niki/ranboo but prolly not] , but its danourage to have him bc the scavenger dream is out to get him. the group talks about what they should do

-ranboo is shocked to hear that dream, him being one of the most well known and dangerous strangers

-a few days pass with everyone being seemingly normal, tubbo and ranboo don't tell them that they know about ranboo being hunting and overall they just vibe

-then bam Punz, one of dreams buddies, attacks there bunkier bc they heard that ranboo was there, after punz leaves the bunker is pretty beaten up and tubbo/ranboo tell everyone that they know about the dream thing

-a few more minors attacks happen for a few days, they still refuse to give up ranboo or even tell them if ranboo is with them

-ranboo is drowning in guilt and decides that night that he would turn himself in to dream

-he leaves and on his way to dream we meet [INSERT SOMEONE I HAVEN'T DECIDED]

-in the morning everyone wakes up and is like oh no ranboos gone we have to go save him, they all decide that they would all go and split up in groups[jack/niki, tommy/tubbo/wilbur and techno/phil],

-tommy/tubbo/wilbur talk about their old colony that they used to be in, meanwhile jack and niki bump into [INSERT SOMEONE I HAVEN'T DECIDED]they tell them where ranboo is

-niki/jack calls everyone up and they decide to try and stop ranboo/break him out fully know that they know where he is

-ranboo finds dreams base and turns himself in

-STUFF HAPPENS

-they save ranboo :D

-with the help of the other ppl they start building up ' 'The Dome '' and basically everyone has a happily ever after :]

[misswoozi]

For the space colony au i was actually thinking more like humanity has been transferred to a fleet of space stations while in search of a new planet that either has a breathable atmosphere or that they can build a big ass dome on in a kind of immediately post-apocalyptic society kind of way

Which is also a RAD plotline! I've written a space AU in the past and it was quite extensive (over 100k words!) and it was really A Lot but I like the very simple company of Rich Colony and Poor Colony right now lmao