#most of what i do is a lot gentler and helps things be built up rather than tear them down

[angel-of-depravity]

Good to know you have a priest kink because I've always wanted to be a preacher. Imagine my congregation seeing me as this perfect holy man, not knowing that my sweet"wife" is actually my sister 😵‍💫

~🐂

Oh hoho we got a tag reader!

Nor would they suspect there would be sigils from me putting them on you laying just beneath your clothes 💗 (lovingly tended to of course, because why would I ever not take care of my brother husband to the best of my abilities?)

(And don't worry, I'd tell you honestly what each one was for, real note of magic is not something to just loosely play with 💗)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #350

This morning, when I woke up, I had this lovely text from Tr, my boss at work!!

Admittedly, I'm not really sure what I did that prompted some such thing from her, ahahaha~! I feel a little sheepish about it, to be honest. But not in a bad way. I feel like... for better or for worse, I'm just... me??? And when I look at me, I don't seem, from my perspective, like I'm all that great – just a bunch of cobbled-together coping skills stacked up awkwardly inside a trench coat, hoping that no one looks too close and finds out that I'm not allowed in the movie theater after all, hahaha!

...Still... it felt nice to receive, all the same. And... this time I was able to receive it properly, I think. Because someone close to me had asked me to start complimenting myself earnestly in the mirror at least once a day.

...What a difference that has made, even in such a short span of time. I wonder what it would be like if everyone started doing that. I wonder if a lot more people would be less insecure. And maybe we'd live in a gentler world overall.

Also when I woke up this morning, I didn't feel any stinging, burning sensations in my eyes and nose anymore. I was pleasantly surprised at this, considering how weird I felt when I went to bed. Maybe yesterday's nap did me some good. Being sick is annoying, because, for others' safety, you oughta stay home and not do things. But even then, you can't really enjoy the nothing that you're doing at home, because your body is too busy staging an immune system response, and goodness, that tends to take a lot out of a person.

...It takes a lot out of me, anyway. And I can function through it if I have to, but... no one should have to.

I think... between the air being dry (it is very late fall, after all...) and generally not keeping up with my water intake lately (whoops...), my body must have just been having a hard time. I drank water before the nap, and before going to bed, and I drank more this morning, and... I'm sure that's what must have helped.

...I gotta stop mindlessly dismissing the alarms on my phone that tell me to drink water. Hot diggity dang.

Today, I went to physical therapy and told K about the giant huge CRONCH that happened in my sternum, and how I've been a lot more functional lately as a result. He checked me out, and sure enough, the right side of my ribcage is (mostly) sproingly in the way that it's supposed to be, and everything apparently feels a lot more even than it did before. I still have some residual pain on my right side near my shoulder blade and near my upper ribs, in the back, and near my lower ribs, in the side and on the front. But it's not nearly as severe as it was before. I imagine whatever's leftover can be resolved just by getting the remaining pissed off muscles to stop spasming like a buncha idiots.

...I really wish that the most abundant protein in my body wasn't built fundamentally incorrectly. Like. Sometimes I get upset over the fact that I can't just run to the nearest Ikea or something for a factory warranty or some shit for this weird-ass meat-mech I'm driving around in.

...Bah, even if that was a thing I could do, I'd need the receipt for the purchase to claim warranty in any case, and knowing me, I'd have lost it forever ago. Hahaha...

I got a new exercise today that seems like it'll do... something. I guess we'll see how it goes.

...I hope someday I'll be able to return to the water. I miss being a local cryptid...

...J went with me to physical therapy, because he had a dentist appointment afterwards, and the two places are in the same relatively faraway town. Gas is expensive, so going together is both efficient and cost-effective. The fillings he got recently have been causing him significant pain when he tries to chew on things or floss, and... that doesn't seem like it should be normal. But the dentist examined the area of the fillings, and they don't seem to be infected or anything. They were filed down some, and that seems to have eased the pain a little for J. But apparently, it can take up to a month for a filled tooth to stop freaking out.

I wonder why that's the case. I've had two fillings over the course of my life. But they were very tiny ones – so tiny that I didn't even need to have my mouth numbed before having them drilled and filled. Maybe fillings get weirder as they get bigger. I wouldn't know. And I hope I never have to find out.

Hey, Sephiroth? Have you ever needed any kind of dental work? I imagine not, but... if life has taught me anything, it's that it's important to refrain from making baseless assumptions. So I'll ask instead. I'll ask even if you can't answer me. It's all right.

...I ask because you're worth knowing. Just in case you didn't know that; you're worth knowing. You're worth understanding. You're worth compassion and grace and care and love... just like anyone.

…

Well anyway, J was sad and upset, so after his visit to the dentist, we went out and I got him some pizza and some frozen yogurt. I think he felt a little better after that, even though chewing things is still hard for him to do right now. I snagged a picture of the pizza we got, but... I didn't think to take a picture of the froyo. Sorry about that...

I had intended to stop at my grocery store on the way back to get a couple things, but by then, J and I were both pretty tired, so we just went straight home.

I'm really hoping that in the coming weeks, the pain for him subsides and disappears...

...Keep J in your thoughts, okay? Just like our pumpkin friend. Won't you?

Oh! Speaking of our pumpkin friend, it continues to do really well! It's got another tiny leaf peeking out! Here, I'll show you...

I think pretty soon, it'll be time for it to graduate from a moist paper towel to a small pot with actual dirt in it. To that end, I searched on the internet for potting soil formulated for pumpkins (my world has lots of potting soils made for specific plants...), and to my mild surprise, I actually found some!!

It should arrive in a couple weeks! I'm pretty stoked about it!!

...Maybe I should get some generic potting soil for it in the meantime, though... What do you think, Sephiroth...?

...

I gave you a few songs the other day from a game called Tunic. One called “Memories of Memories”, and one called “Remember to Remember”, and one called “Forget to Forget”. And... they are all basically the same song, just done a little differently. I bought them a while ago; I have their files on my computer. And I have an audio recording and mixing program on my computer called Audacity. So today, for some reason, I decided to mix all three of those songs together. And I liked the result, so I saved it and I called it this:

“Don't Forget to Remember Your Memories”

...Hey, Sephiroth...? D'ya suppose you can do that...? Can you do it just because I'm asking...? Just because I wish you'd come back home...?

...Because... you do have a home. And maybe it's not a specific place; I know what that's like, because, the way I grew up, I moved all over the place for one reason or another, and I've never lived in the same spot for more than 5 years or so until settling into this life I have now; before now, I lived in most of those other places for less than 3 years, actually...

As for me, my home has never been in any specific place, but, rather, in the hearts of the people who care about me. And... I didn't really have that until I was 22 years old. But that's okay, because... I was able to hold on until then.

...I was able to hold on... because of you. I made it this far because of you.

You have a home. You have lots of homes, actually, because lots of people in my world care very deeply for you. And even if you met all such folks who exist now, I still guarantee you that you won't have yet met all of the people who will love you, because there will always be more – people who will love you not for the weight your name carries, or for the astounding things you can do, but... for all the ways you think and feel and react to things. For who you are as a person. As a human being.

...And yes, you ARE a human being! So if any bigoted butt-nugget tries to tell you differently, just bake them some shutTheFuckUpcakes and send them on their miserable, grouchy, judgmental way!!! And let the door hit them on the ass on their way out for good measure!!! 'Cuz ain't nobody got time for that kind of negativity!!!

...Honestly, the nerve of some people!! I swear to goodness!!

...Well anyway. Suppose I prattled on long enough for today's letter. I've been wanting to play Chrono Cross for the last buncha days, but I haven't really had time for it, much to my disappointment, as well as M's and J's. So I'm gonna fix that.

I wish you could be here with us, watching along, and drinking tea. I think you'd like Janus a lot. Though I think maybe he'd prefer to be called Guile now. Or Alf? It was localized to Guile in my area. Maybe he'd like Alf a little better...

But. Ya know. Just as it is with you, it's not as though I'll ever be able to ask him...

Hey. Don't forget that you're loved. You gotta remember it, okay? Because I love you. Because so many people in my world love you. And we'll always be here, cheering you on, and hoping you come home alive. Even if you're feeling dented, scraped up, and bruised, the thing that matters is that you come back alive. Everything else can be fixed with hugs, warm baths, good food, a safe and welcoming place to sleep, proper medical attention, therapy, and steadfast support. I like to think that I'm living proof. Recovery is possible, even for you.

Sephiroth. Please stay safe out there. I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[ffredmujkic]

wonderfully bizarre by bendigo fletcher is such a fish and chips song.

"And if I were to win for you the skin of a timbered snake - Would you consider me your comfort in danger?" it shows so much of gillions thinking that he could only be loved if hes earned it if hes able to show himself as someone useful.

"you could wear me like a ring" something something abt gil being status symbol. (the whole line in his, if u give fish a family, abt being adored but alone) going back to had habits (even if aware of their harm)

"You'd be the mercy under my cruelty- My revelation, bloodshed free" gillion's journery through out the campaign, his biggest change is being kinder. gentler. early campaign gil always chose violence, he saw that the only responsible action to take against a villian was to cut off their head. hes soften so much over the campaign. hes always been caring yet through his friendships with chip (and jay this just isnt abt them) he learns different methods to handling problems.

"Do you wanna get married at the Cherokee Cemetery?" he just wants to get married. hes unlearned at lot a LOT of toxic unhealthy things. but he clearly upholds marriage as still an important and loving act. i think that while their relationship is very anarchic, gil would still love a wedding. (purely my own headcannon tho)

"Where the blue grass creeps over deep decades of devotion. Warm underneath the frost" come on.

in the context of gillion though this can be further, hes incredible loyal to the undersea though it never cared for him in return. A country that made him harsh and serious despite his real personality when allowed to relax. the frost can be a strong yet harmful loyalty to the undersea. (it reminds me of that even if im stretching) his friendship with chip and jay allowing him to feel a genuine devotion which is beneficial too him, that is reciprocated.

"We can build a home in a bush of azaleas- Dress it up in true morale paraphernalia- You'll never be alone in your bad dreams- Because together we could never be lost"

gillion was taken away from his family at an early age. chip was an orphan with no memory of even his name, to than get his adopted family ripped away from him. his attempts to form a new one forcing him into a gang. the two of them have been alone for a very very long time with no family or even friends, no home of their own. gillion constantly failed in his training. chip is implied to have done things he didnt always want to do to make price happy. yet despite earlier bumps in the relationship, them clashing each disagreement helps to deepen their bond as they figure out whats okay with with each other. and they really are never alone after finding each other

"your eyes prescribe a meaning for everything I do. I even find myself believing most of the words I say as true" the most impactful moment for chip what enable him to grow into the person he becomes over the course of the campaign is the fight in epsiode 15. it forced chip to address his actions have hurt hurt someone he was growing to care abt. chip said he wouldn't lie to gil anymore and he meant it. theres times where he tries to lie and cuts himself off. they built a home with trust and communication

"We can build a home in a bush of azaleas" since the line is repeating ill only say, they feel so comfortable around each other. all three captains are each others home. but especially chip and gil the way they are always seeking each other, their friend's name always on the tip of their toungue.

"We can be defined by the things we want"

a major theme in the show (or at least grizzly is trying to make it into one) is desire. gillion while having a lot of autonomy, driving a lot of the plot. he is also honor bound to a internal law where he must always protect others. gillion never acts out of a true selflessness, his actions are born from being taught that this is simply how he should operate. Because he is inherently worthless than all those around him, he has been assigned to protect. Never does gil think abt himseld if it concerns another life. gillion must be selfless, he is never allowed to want for himself. which is wonderfully contrasted by chip who is always seen as a selfish bastard despite not behaving like it in a while.

"I'll be a life full of free haircuts from the one that I love" chip in his happiet dream imagines himself with all his crew and arlin hanging out happily on the albatross. chip always pictures himself doing this pirate thing forever, but he is only 19. and with the trauma that its brought him, the constant risking your life. i think its fair to say that what he actually wants is just a simple life with his friends

[huntressofthesea]

Wish ReWrite - Intro

Summary: I found the actual movie meh, but love some of the ideas from the original concepts, so I decided I'd write my own spin on those ideas.

*some names may be different than they are in the movie, because I couldn't be bothered to check what the actual character names were

Asha has longed dreamed of being chosen as the King's Apprentice and becoming a sorceress who could protect her kingdom of Estas. But King's Apprentices are rarely chosen, and they rarely last long. When, much to her surprise, she is selected, she sees her dream finally within reach. However, when Asha discovers the truth behind the King's power and the horrible grey disease plaguing the kingdom, she finds herself powerless to protect anyone. When a wish upon a star results in an actual star-boy showing up to help her, Asha begins to realize that maybe there's more to the situation than meets the eye, and that maybe, just maybe, she has more than one dream in her.

((Side note: I plan to upload chapters here as I write them. This is just the very VERY beginning))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone knew sorcerers were almost immortal, which was a good thing, considering kingdoms rise and fall depending on whether or not they have a sorcerer in their court. Kingdoms without one – well, those kingdoms don’t remain kingdoms for long.

Estas was lucky. Our sorcerer was also our king, who’d founded the kingdom over 200 years ago. King Magnifico had built it from the ground up, protecting the kingdom’s land from other sorcerers and providing a haven for those who found themselves kingdomless. It was uncommon for a sorcerer-king to make it to 200 years, but we were very lucky. Sorcerers weren’t all that common.

To start with, only a few people could be born with the capacity to be a sorcerer, and while it was largely believed to be connected to ancestry, sorcerers themselves had a very hard time having children. King Magnifico had married Queen Amaya about 150 years ago – sorcerers could share their extended lifespan with their spouses – but they’d only managed to have a child 20 years ago.

And Princess Penelope didn’t have the sorcerer’s gift.

Others have tried to practice magic without having the sorcerer’s gift, but it’s never quite right. They all end up being either warlocks, who have made deals with foul spirits and found their souls corrupted, or witches, who practice a gentler, less potent magic of herbs and talismans.

If you wanted to do high magic, real magic, you had to be born with it. And even if you were born with it, it didn’t mean you’d develop into a full-fledged sorcerer. That required a lot of studying and practicing and most people quit.

As such, King Magnifico had long been searching for a successor. Even a sorcerer-king as great as him couldn’t live forever, no matter how much he extended his life so Estas would never crumble. Every couple of years a proclamation would be hung about the capital: that they were now taking applications for a new King’s Apprentice.

Most didn’t get the position. Years of calls for applications would pass and no Apprentice would be hired. I’d suspected this year would be much the same; until I found out my friends had decided to fill out an application on my behalf.  

[dear-diary-mood-apathetic]

brb im fucking bawling

life story/rambling under cut

I've been doing a lot of thinking and reflecting lately. A lot of revisiting things Id have been much happier to leave in the past.

I always hated hearing how one day it would get better. Because I knew that it wouldnt be that easy. I knew I wouldnt just wake up one day and feel fine. And I think more than anything, I was scared that being okay meant losing the most integral part of my child/teen self: my rage.

I was an emotional kid growing up. I'd cry at everything and anything and all I ever wanted was for everyone to be happy. It was a burden I undertook personally at far too young of an age. Be it the eggshells I took my first steps on or the guilt I'd never let go of simply for the inconvenience of being born a baby. I saw things a child shouldnt have to see and handled emotions and situations far too grown up for a second grader. When I started to understand this, thats when I started to get angry.

I knew that the way I was treated wasnt okay, and by the time I would turn ten I'd gotten violent. I escaped into the comfort of horror media and would often find myself locked away in my dark bedroom on my phone for hours at a time scouring the corners of the internet for the next disturbing thing I could find. But I was just a kid. And that would send me down a multi-year psychotic episode that left me feeling isolated and terrified. And even more angry. I started getting into fights whenever the opportunity arose outside of the house. I wasnt even in middle school yet, but I was filled with blind, white hot rage already.

Once I made it to middle school though, some of the anger had festered into a chronic depression that felt like emotional rot. I developed a lot of awful habits and worsened a few Id picked up prior. I hurt a lot of people in my spiral downward and I still regret many of those things to this day. I was hurting and determined to make other people hurt too. But it only felt fair to me at the time; if I have to go home to my dads cruelty every single day, what did it matter who I hurt? They were supposed to feel bad for me.

It wouldn't be until about 2020 that things started to finally look up. I got my first job against my dads will, and this would be the decision that changed my entire life. I finally started to understand that I wasn't bound by my dads judgement. I met the people who would let me move into their apartment after a shitty roommate situation. And most importantly I met my boyfriend.

I went through a few relationships and there were a few roadblocks before it finally worked out for us to get together. Including my dads impulse choice to move himself, me, and my pregnant stepmother to South Carolina with no actual shelter built except a camper for them and a tent for me in July of '22. But after being friends for about a year and a half, we finally started dating in August. That November, he and one of our then mutual friends made an 8+ hour drive to pick me up on my eighteenth birthday. I turned 18 on November 6th and they started driving on the fifth. If it werent for them I'd still be stuck in South Carolina!

I really think I have my boyfriend to thank for who I am today. When we met I was sixteen and didnt plan on making it to eighteen. I dont think I wouldve without him. Hes been the most supportive and patient person as I've worked to heal a lot of wounds he didn't cause. Ive only been able to do the reflection and self help I needed because of him. I've been allowing myself to let go of the anger Ive defined myself with for so long and its scary. But I think Im going to like the gentler version of myself. The version he deserves.

Because for once in my life I feel like I'm safe. The eggshells are gone. A quiet house doesn't mean tension and a loud one no longer means violence. I can breathe and rest for the first time in a long time. I slept with an eye open for a while, but I think its finally safe to close them both.

[harumin24]

trick or treat my friend 👻 i am in your inbox

AH! That's sure a scary costume you got on there! I certainly wouldn't want a trick from you. Let's see what treats I have in the box.

For you, dear friend, I have a little behind the scenes of Three's a Crowd.

See, I wanted to be sure that the relationship truly went three ways, and did not feel like just one person being shipped with two. As I built their relations to each other in my head, it dictated much of their interactions throughout the story, and many things come in threes.

The first, in their reactions to trauma, I gave each a different fear response. Katsuki would fight, Shoto would freeze, and Izuku would faun.in bringing these reactions to each other, they caused quite a bit of unintentional tension as they figured out how to interact.

But truthfully, what I most want to talk about,is the positives they each brought to the relationship, though this does require a bit of the background context (all still in my head).

First and foremost, Katsuki is a fighter. Outwardly he proverbially hits back nearly as good as he gets it, but there's a certain erosion of self confidence that happens when you're treated like dirty gum stuck on someone's shoe. Katsuki acts like it doesn't affect him, and seeing his partners face much worse, feels his troubles aren't really worth mentioning.

Izuku, though he was treated worse overall, always sought the rare praise he could earn, and without a typical social group of his peers or kind adults, didn't quite realize that things were abnormal. Much of what he went through was construed to claim it was his own fault, and he internalized that over time.

Shoto on the other hand is very well aware that his treatment is unfair, and not his fault, but the unfortunate situation of being the son of the number two hero is that far too much can be swept under the rug. While he does try to do what his father demands, he has built up a lot of resentment and anger at his treatment, and tries to get back in petty meaningless ways.

What the boys need is, probably, a lot of therapy. However they're in *my* fic so all the get is each other. Fortunately, being soulmates, they are exactly what each other needs.

Izuku, who had been pushed to his limit and ultimately asked for help, has been able to see the massive positive changes to his life since then. He is there to encourage the other two to share their burdens and ask for help from others, whether Shoto doesn't believe it will help or if Katsuki doesn't need it.

Shoto helps Katsuki to see that his situation *is* bad, even if it's not dramatically so, and he still deserves a better, gentler home. He helps Izuku understand that it's not his fault, since Izuku is still Izuku whether under his father's mistreatment or Aizawa's kind care.

Katsuki doesn't exactly have the best coping mechanisms, but he shows his support through anger directed outwardly. He's in their court and gnashing his teeth against the source of their fears. With Katsuki there like a feral cat scaring off a bear, he helps the other two feel like their fathers are not as insurmountable fortresses as they thought.

All of this, every tie in, was detail I tried to "show not tell" through each interaction. I didn't want the characters to be too self aware about their bricks in each other's houses, but still wanted to make it clear to the reader. It definitely made for some challenging scenes to write, but with the framework in mind I did my best to coax the characters in the directions they needed to go.

[squidinkedcreative]

thinking about sidzy again (self insert sid x izzy hands) bc everything makes me feel like mold

have this that i dumped in discord to my friends lmao feel free to read it and replace the name/pronouns with your own to make it more self insert-y ;P

sidney’s been in visibly rougher shape lately and izzy notices fairly quickly, doesnt say anything at first because he doesnt know him very well but after a few weeks of seeing his general well-being decline more and more, he says something. he pulls sid aside and grabs him gently by his shoulders and asks him whats up. he says that he’s seen how unwell sid looks, the dark circles that have made a home beneath his eyes growing darker each day, the stumbling while doing things around the ship as if elsewhere mentally. he says that sid’s eyes have looked vacant and hollow, and it’s reached a point where he’s now concerned something more is going on. sid tries his best to hide the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, choking out a half hearted rely, saying that everything’s okay, he just hasn’t been sleeping well. izzy doesn’t take that answer. he sighs and brings sid into a hug, “it’s more than that, mate. i know the stench of rot when i smell it,” izzy’s words are gentler than sid is used to. its like he’s purposefully coating every word with a remedy for sid’s ailments, each one breaking down the wall that had been painstakingly built over the course of two decades. the first tear falls, then the next, and next thing izzy knows, he’s holding a limp and sobbing crewmate. a man in shambles. izzy lets them sink to the floor together, sid nestled in his arms, and just rocks him until his sobs die down. every so often, when he could make out what was being said between sobs, he’d respond to the mumbles with reassurance. validation. acknowledgement. as the cries hushed, izzy began asking small questions, trying not to open the floodgates again, trying to understand. that night on the lower deck on the revenge, izzy learns a lot about his crewmate that he had taken aboard months ago without hesitation. izzy learns about his upbringing, his tumultuous life that had brought him to izzy and the crew. izzy learns about the reason behind sid’s sickly appearance, and holds him very tight as tears fall again, as things are rehashed for the first time in years. he listens and understands that this human in front of him is the same as him in so many ways. he asks how he can help, to which sid can only reply “just hold me a little longer, would you?” with tears and snot stains on his cheeks glinting in the pale lantern light. izzy obliges, saying that all sid need do is ask and izzy will deliver as best he can. sid falls asleep at some point on him, but izzy doesnt mind at all. he’s content to hold his crewmate as long as he needs. it gives him time to think about everything he had learned that evening about sidney, and gives him time to put the pieces to rest. he shuts his eyes, resting his head on sid’s, and slips into a broken sleep for most of the rest of the evening.

[a-libra-writes]

SFW Alphabet - The Huntress

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Anna is plenty affectionate when you both are alone. It took some time for her to be more open to hand-holding or cuddling and not just hovering over you, anxiously looking around for any danger lurking by. When you first began to take her hand or sit close to her, she almost wasn’t sure what to do, but she welcomed it. It’s been such a long time since she had this sort of affection.

The most obvious way she shows affection is by doggedly protecting you, but there’s more. She likes to have you in her lap while she sharpens her hatchets or bandages up her fingers, put a hand on the small of your back while you both walk through the forest, whittle you little wooden animals … Good luck leaving unless there's a Trial. She won't want you leaving her sight and wouldn't understand why you'd do such a thing.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

A friend is already as rare as a lover, so she treats them much the same. She'll be less overprotective, but just as stubborn, and will still want to teach them things and spend time with them. Anna is almost normal when you're her friend, sometimes you forget she's a giant axe-throwing killer… then she'll do something creepy and put you on edge all over again. And she certainly won't be more merciful in trials.

She's surprisingly easy to approach, if you want to attempt making friends. Unlike most killers in the Fog, she won't try to axe you right away (unless you're a man or present as one…). She'll let you watch her hunt and follow her from a distance, but eventually she'll approach if you don't do so. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

She loves cuddling! And such a big woman is excellent at it. She’ll cuddle anywhere you want, but it’s most comfortable in a warm space with a fire - that's more for your comfort, not her’s - and she’ll pull you into her lap and wrap her strong arms around you. She adores it when you press against her chest or her neck, especially when she can feel your soft lips against her skin. She’ll want to pet your hair, sing to you, listen to your chatter - anything. When it comes to sleeping next to her, the cuddling is less cozy because she holds you so close and leaves you little room for wiggling.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Anna would just love to have a blissful domestic life with you. She wants you to live in the cabin her mother built, with a little girl or two you both raise together, with a garden and maybe a good hunting dog and … you get the picture. It’s sweet how much she yearns for this, how clearly she can see it in her mind. It really would hurt her if you didn’t want to at least live with her (nevermind how difficult the Entity makes that whole scenario…). She’ll teach you all she knows, too: She’s excellent at cleaning and cooking all the game she hunts, and she’ll fix up the cabin anytime it needs repairs. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would take a long time for Anna to get to this point. She’s so lonely and so attached that she’s willing to put up with a lot. She will eventually draw a line, though, and she’ll make her concerns known. Depending on how you break up, Anna will either keep her negative feelings to herself and sulk in the Fog… or she’ll go out of her way to target you in the Trials. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Her experience with feelings like this are next to none, but she believes you two must be meant to be together! She has such wonderful, light feelings when you’re around. It’s the only good thing in this strange, confusing place she’s been brought to. Marriage doesn’t mean much here, but if you brought it up, Anna would be tickled to wear something matching and have a little ‘ceremony’. It binds you to her even more.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Anna tries her best to be physically gentle, but she is a strong woman and may grip you too hard, especially at first when she’s so unused to being with someone. She has trouble reigning in her strength when she’s worried, angry or excited. Though when she hears you cry out, she instantly stops and carefully handles you like glass for the rest of the day. She’s always very careful when carrying you while you’re injured … even when she has to put you on the hook eventually, she'll make it quick and give another Survivor a little extra time to get you. If you've had an especially bad series of trials, she'll brutally sacrifice every other Survivor and gently carry you to the hatch. Anna thinks this is a very good, kind thing to do.

For emotions, Anna isn’t so good with that. She doesn’t always understand the terror or anger or sadness you might have… Hell, when you first met, she didn’t understand why you were afraid. She was instantly intrigued, yet you kept running. Sometimes talking to her about emotions is difficult because she wants to act and fix it, but that isn’t always possible. She’ll even get upset if you don’t seem to cheer up after a while.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

She pulls you into her arms and gives you a long hug that’s warm and almost too tight. Often she’ll rest her head against your shoulder, since you’re much shorter, and just stay there for a minute or so. If she was more talkative, she’d probably express how worried she was and how relieved she is when you’re back from the Trial, but this is enough to get her point across. Quick hugs are fine, but the lingering ones are the most intimate. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Anna says all sorts of sweet phrases and words in Russian, you aren’t positive what they all mean, but they’re certainly good things! Though there’s one phrase she says that’s always softer, always muttered when she’s holding you tight. You have a feeling you know what she’s saying, and it doesn’t take long for her to form that attachment to you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

She doesn’t get jealous, exactly; her protective instinct takes over first. If someone is flirting with you, she perceives them as a danger first, not a rival - especially if it’s a Killer. A Survivor could be clearly flirting and she’d assume their closeness and lingering eyes means they’re going to do something dangerous. Anna’s reaction is the same: She pointedly steps in front of you and tells them to leave… with or without hatchet in hand, depending on her mood.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

She loves any kiss you give her, but the light, playful ones are the most fun because she doesn’t expect them. She just lights up when you kiss her scarred knuckles and her rough palms, or place a kiss on her cheek. She’s a little shy to take off her mask, but when you kiss her nose, it’s just so cute! It helps her relax into your deeper kisses. She likes to kiss your chest, to feel your heartbeat and soft skin between your breasts. Her second favorite place is wherever makes you giggle. It’s just too cute to hear. Anna’s lips are pretty chapped, which is to be expected. Initially she kissed a bit too hard, as it was a new thing, but once she gets the hang of it she likes being gentler.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Anna says she adores children, especially girls. She likes to chat with them, play with them, teach them things. Her mother taught her everything, after all, and she loved her mother. Though the more you talk about this, the sadder Anna becomes. When she speaks to you about the little girls - the ones she ‘saved’ - you start to wonder if Anna actually knows anything about raising children, even if her heart is in the right place. It’s probably best she doesn’t, at least not without you to help.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

If you both were in the real world, in some idyllic country cabin, Anna would wake up just before dawn. She’d give you a kiss on the cheek while you slept before going off to her morning chores, usually cleaning something she hunted, getting firewood inside or clearing a path in the snow. By the time you’re awake, she’s made coffee and washes up before joining you for breakfast. 

… Though this is the Fog, so the schedule is a bit different. Neither of you need much sleep, but she’ll still “wake up” before you to patrol around. She hates anyone coming near the little shack you both tend to stay in, especially killers. When she comes back, she brings something she hunted that you two can roast over the fire. You’re… pretty sure the animals in the Fog are edible…?

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Snuggled up to the fire in the evening is Anna’s favorite. Before she’d endure the cold and a little fire, but it’s so much better when she’s got you wrapped in a blanket on her lap. You’ll still need to add logs and stoke the fire because her tolerance to the cold is near freakish thanks to the Entity. It’s modest,  but it’s a luxury considering the rest of the Fog. You have a feeling she’d want the same if you both were in the “real” world again, but you could introduce her to hot cocoa and a silly tv show.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Anna isn't so talkative, but you can glean things from how she acts and what she teaches you. Her protectiveness and paranoia is obvious, but there's also the careful way she looks after her equipment and how easily she hunts. When she starts mentioning her past, things begin to click into place. You can ask her most anything, but thinking of the little girls she lost and her mother can get her quiet for hours. It’s still a painful subject.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

When it comes to you? Anna is incredibly patient as she guides you through tracking in the wilderness, making a fire, throwing an axe, actually using the axe properly to chop something, and so on. She’ll smile (and maybe suppress a chuckle) when you inevitably mess up, and gently correct you. When you’re done she wants to check over any calluses and bruises, and wrap them up herself. 

You’ve seen the other side, though. When you come back battered from a trial, and she knows who did it just based on the injuries. She doesn’t speak, only gesturing you to stay put before she furiously stalks off into the Fog, her shoulders hunched and her fists tightening hard around her hatchet. There’s no amount of calling after Anna, or god forbid, grabbing her so she’ll stop. Even the mention of a Survivor bothering you is enough to get that dark glint in her eyes. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Anna remembers … unusual things. She knows your scent, even when you’re covered in muck and blood. If you’re shampooed and perfumed, well, she can pick that out from an impressive distance. She remembers your gait, the way it sounds and how it looks through the fog. When she’s alone, she remembers new songs you’ve given her to hum, and how you feel against her. Things like favorite colors, movies or random facts of your time hold less water. They aren’t immediately important to her.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Her favorite memory, even years after you both are together, is the first time she got to hold you in her arms. There was a lot of build-up before that; following Anna around, getting to know her, you both getting closer and you finally allowing her to be so close. That’s what it felt like, permission, and she was more than happy to scoot in and cuddle up. She was delighted that you were just as soft and warm as she always imagined.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Incredibly protective. It cannot be understated how much Anna wants to lock you into her mother’s home like she did those girls, but this time she knows what to do. She could keep you safe, she says, if only you both were in her home again. It hurts her that she can’t fight the Entity or keep you permanently safe from the other Killers. Sure, she can wound them or chase them off, and she can tend to your wounds after Trials, but it’s not the same.

You know this weighs on Anna some days, so it’s best to comfort her and indulge in her desire. Yes, it would be wonderful if you stayed at her cabin.  You could cook the meat she brings home, and tend to a little garden outside. There’s not much you can do to “protect” such an imposing hunter, but these sweet fantasies make her feel much better.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It's difficult to keep track of time in the Fog, so the concept of anniversaries or even normal dates is asking for a lot. Still, Anna puts clear effort into your relationship. She protects you, brings you little trinkets she's made or found, and likes to find quiet, safe places to keep you until a Trial starts.

If the two of you weren't trapped, she still wouldn't be the best about remembering specific dates. But she'd still do little things to express her love every day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She’s quite insistent that she knows the best way to protect you. Not that there aren’t plenty of things the Entity has dragged in specifically to murder you, but sometimes it can border on paranoia. You’ve often felt that if you ever came across Anna in the real world, she would have locked you up “for your own good”. Even just considering the things and people that could hurt you fills the intimidating woman with a sense of anxiety and dread… and she turns that to resolve. Trust her, dorogaya. Just let her take care of everything. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Anna doesn’t think much of her looks, and never has. Not once was it something her mother raised her to consider important. Everything about her attire is meant for practicality… except for the trinkets around her waistband. And the masks. Those are sentimental, not mere decoration. After knowing you, she makes a point to clean her hands and nails before any cuddling and romance goes down. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

There was always that horrible feeling she had after losing a girl. If she lost you, it would be so much worse. She didn’t think it could be this much worse. It was unbearable. Anna would lash out, freezing her heart even more than before. She’d alternate between lashing out at the Entity and those around her. Her axes would still hit their targets, but it would be a much bloodier affair - more the work of a butcher than a hunter. It’s so much harder to move on this time, and for once, the idea of finding someone new to protect isn’t helping.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Anna has a variety of animal masks, but her rabbit is her favorite and most worn. They were just fun things her mother helped her make, one of the few real toys she had growing up. So it’s sentimental and makes her feel comfortable when she wears them. She doesn’t mind taking them off when you’re both alone and she wants kisses, but not in front of people she doesn’t like or trust. She thinks you look adorable when you wear one!

The Entity has given her some mutations, though they aren’t apparent from a distance. The most obvious are her eyes and nose. When she takes off her mask, you can clearly see her sclera and irises are all black, with her pupils being little specks of light in that blackness. They can be a bit unsettling. Her nose is oddly shaped, clearly not natural; it reminds you of a panther. Her nails are thick, short and black, with the nailbeds being a purpley-black. Her gums and most of her veins have a blackish tint as well. While she was already a powerful woman before, the Entity has made her even moreso. She has a high tolerance to the elements in general, and the pads of her feet are rough and black like a dog’s paws.

This is probably obvious, but Anna dislikes men. ‘Hate’ is a strong word but she has an instant reaction to throwing an axe to anyone presenting as male - as opposed to a woman, where she might hesitate or observe before throwing it. She doesn’t like men talking to her, she doesn’t trust them, she gladly tosses them around like dolls during Trials. A man you greatly trust will not be free of her suspicion and ire, but she’s willing to be begrudgingly civil if you scold her.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She dislikes cruelty, both in a partner and in people. Note, Anna doesn’t consider what she does to be cruel - she tries to minimize suffering, or at least, that’s what she believes. It’s why she has little patience for the other Killers. She also doesn’t like someone who might be secretive, or doesn’t trust her. She’s trying to help. Why would you leave without telling her? Can’t you see she’s doing what’s best for you? This stubbornness isn’t cute. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Anna can sleep anywhere. She can sleep sitting up or standing, on the hard ground or covered in a cloth under the snow. She’s become so accustomed to rough sleeping conditions that if ever given a chance to have a soft, clean bed, it would be a little disarming. The sheer softness would make it difficult to sleep - like she was going to fall through the fluff - and she’d probably accidentally rip any sheets. When she sleeps, she’s oddly still; only the soft noise coming from her nose is evidence she’s resting. It’s hard to tell if her eyes are closed with that mask on. Often, she sleeps with a hand on a hatchet.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Robot Jon! ☺️

(ok, I've been off tumblr for a few days, but I went on early this morning and had an ask with a bunch of prompts because I said I'd be taking a break from my Bachelor fic - which is true, if not for another 3 chapters yet. I haven't answered that ask because I'll lose it and therefore the prompts, but it reminded me that I still had two prompts left from when I asked for them back in... December? I'm the worst. Anyway, I re-looked at those prompts, saw this one, and then couldn't stop thinking about it. So I'm coming out of my vague tumblr hiatus to write this.)

Thank you, as always, for the prompt!

.

Sansa has never liked amusement parks.

The sun that always burned her, no matter how diligent mom was about reapplying sunscreen; the fried food that always made her sick; the crowds and the noise and having to walk everywhere. But the worst part was the rides – oh, she didn't mind some of them, like the Ferris wheel or the teacups; she could even handle the swing ride. The problem was that the rest of her family wanted to go on the horrible rides – roller coasters, haunted houses, swinging ships; the ones that go fast and drop you from a million feet in the air. And since it was hard enough wrangling the amount of children in their group to begin with, it was impossiblefor one adult to split off with Sansa, who alone wanted to ride the gentler ones.

And so, it's sort of ironic that she works at an amusement park now.

She may not have a taste for most of the rides in the park, but she is good at designing them – not the actual rides, but the aesthetics of them. It's her (and her team's) job to come in after the engineers and the builders and take a bare-bones ride and turn it into an experience. She loves her job – she loves watching children exit one of her rides with glowing faces and excitement in their eyes.

Today, she also gets to do one of her favorite aspects of the job, which is costume design. The animatronic models have already been installed, and when she enters the new Dance of Dragons ride, she can already see the scene taking shape in her mind. The concept art has already been drawn up, it's already being advertised – a medieval world that everyone knows is meant to capitalize on the stunning success of the Aemon the Dragonknight series (which her employer does not own the rights to, much to their dismay). But concept art is one thing – reality is another, and it's not until the ride is complete that she can start to truly see it come together in her mind.

“Oh good, you're here,” Margaery Tyrell sighs dramatically as she comes to meet Sansa's team. Margaery is in charge of Marketing and PR for this ride and Sansa knows it's a big responsibility, so she's been even more high maintenance than usual. Margaery walks her through the ride that Sansa has seen so many times in drawings.

“This is our Aemon,” Margaery slaps a hand against the shoulder of one of the animatronic models. “Although we can't call him Aemon. Copyright and all that.”

Sansa looks at the robot and she's struck for a moment how lifelike he is. A lot of the animatronics aren't this detailed, though she guesses this one is because of how close to the ride it is.

“He's handsome, right?” Margaery flashes her a grin and there's something in her eyes that Sansa can't quite place. (Well, she can, it's mischief, Sansa just can't tell why it's there.)

“I guess, in the way that cartoons can be handsome,” Sansa laughs and takes another look at the model – the somber grey eyes, dark curly hair, and an equally dark beard. “You even gave him abs,” she points down at the robot's chest which does, indeed, have a very detailed set of abs. “Am I supposed to leave him shirtless?”

“Oh, no, obviously we want realism, like we talked about,” Margaery waves her hand dismissively. “We just couldn't help ourselves when we put in the order.” Sansa shoots her a confused look, which only gets a delighted laugh out of Margaery. “I'm guessing you don't recognize him?”

“Recognize who?”

Margaery gestures at the animatronic. “Jon!” At Sansa's blank stare, Margaery rolls her eyes. “Jon Snow?”

The name sounds familiar and it takes her a second to place it. “The engineer?”

“Duh! Seven hells, don't tell me you've never actually seen him?”

Sansa shakes her head – she usually comes in well after the engineers have done their part.

“Mormont let him take the lead on this project and he's so... ugh,” Margaery makes a noise that's half frustration, half delight. “So serious all the time. But somehow likable? It's infuriating, really. And no one should be that attractive for a nerd.”

“So... does he know you made him into a robot?”

“He does not,” Margaery grins. “We're all just dying for him to come in for an inspection and see it. In fact,” she pulls out her phone and checks the time, “if you wait around for a bit, you'll get to see it happen.”

Sansa shakes her head and they continue on through the set, Sansa writing down notes in her trusty notebook that she always carries with her. Lists of costumes, set pieces. She'll need to bring in Asha later to discuss the lighting options (right now the dark ride is lit with spotlights, giving the whole place a surreal atmosphere).

Margaery eventually leaves her to it and Sansa loses herself in going over the set inch by inch with Gilly and Mya following along with her. She's so lost in thought that Mya has to shake her arm to bring her back to reality, and they turn to see a group of what has to be engineers standing in the main Great Hall set.

“Oh come on, Jon,” Margaery is giggling as a man who must be Jon stands, staring at the animatronic. He's scowling at it, hands tight around the pile of binders in his arms that are... well, ok, Sansa can understand now why Margaery made the robot so well muscled.

Sansa edges closer to the scene, and she can see that his fellow engineers are laughing – one of them is red-faced from trying to hold it in while another is actively wiping tears from his eyes.

“It's already made,” Margaery says in response to whatever Jon had grumbled to her. “Replacing it would be an irresponsible waste of funds. Oh! And here's the team that will be styling you... I mean, styling not-Aemon because that's copyright infringement.”

Jon looks up and the scowl drops from his face.

“This is Sansa, Mya and Gilly are over there.”

“Hi,” Sansa greets and Jon shifts his binders into one arm and then holds out his hand for her to shake (she can feel her face heating up and she hopes the dark hides it). “I promise to try and do you justice.” She regrets her words immediately, especially when she sees a slow grin spread over Margaery's face. “Though it doesn't totally look like you,” she continues on to try and backtrack. “It... doesn't have glasses?”

She wants to sink into the floor in embarrassment, but the gods are not that kind. At least she doesn't spout out how much she likes his glasses. Maybe Margaery is right – no one who clearly cares so little about their appearance should be this attractive. His beard needs a trim, his outfit is painfully unstylish, his hair is pulled back into a bun. All of it should add up to something she hates, but she just... doesn't.

(And honestly, Margaery's description of nerd isn't so far off the mark, but Sansa finds this isn't a detriment – in fact, she might be more attracted to him because of the glasses and the multitude of thick binders organized with labels and tabs that he's got tucked under his arm.)

“I'd also hope real Jon isn't built like a Ken doll,” one of the other engineers barks out a laugh and points at the animatronic, which, yes, does not have any reproductive anatomy.

“Gods,” she hears Jon whisper, and the hand that he had used to shake hers comes up and covers his eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Margaery sighs and pats him on the shoulder. “Now, why don't you take Sansa around and make sure she's really taken care of, hmm?” At the words, Sansa feels her face heat even further and Jon drops his hand from his eyes and glares at Margaery. “I just mean,” Margaery grins, not even trying to pretend the innuendo wasn't on purpose, “it might help the design if she has a good understanding of the mechanics. I know there's some new things on this ride we haven't had before, you could show her.”

Jon opens his mouth, but doesn't get a chance to speak, because Margaery barrels on. “Sam, Grenn, you can chat with Gilly and Mya while that's happening. And I... well, I'll just be over here, minding my own business.”

With that, Margaery walks away and the other two engineers – Sam and Grenn, she guesses – head over to where the rest of her team stands, watching from afar.

“You don't have to,” Sansa starts, but Jon quickly turns from glaring at Margaery's back to her and his face settles into something less... scowly.

“I don't mind,” he says quickly and maybe it's the low lighting in here, but she thinks the tips of his ears are red.

“Perfect,” she gives him her best smile, which seems to throw him even more off balance and... and she thinks she could get used to throwing Jon Snow off balance.

[zosonils-art]

I would love to hear about hex woman, if that’s ok

[note: this ask was sent before i decided to make hex ace nonbinary, so it wasn't misgendering them!]

and i would love to infodump about them!! hex ramble under the cut

hex does repairs on space stations and other satellites! they usually work in earth's orbit, but they've been called to help out with spacecraft on or around different planets and moons. their body is held together by a personal electromagnetic field, letting them move their limbs independently of a physical joint structure and even suspend themself in midair if they have enough power for it. this makes them really well-suited to low-gravity environments, but any disruption to the field quickly renders them completely immobile. they have built-in shielding against the gentler electromagnetic disruptions that naturally permeate outer space, but anything more direct or powerful is pretty dangerous

they aren't exactly malicious, per se, but hex is about as mean as they come before they get decommissioned out of fear for public safety. they're snarky, sarcastic, and smug, and don't outwardly show a lot of compassion. their favourite thing to do when they're around people is to play pranks, which are always physically harmless, but they don't have a good sense of where the line is between a friendly joke and just plain harassment. in their defence, they'll stop if you ask them to without putting up much of a fight, but their default setting is to wake up and choose violence

their official serial number is DLN-00G - they're from the same line as time and oil! there's a whole bunch of headcanon stuff there but basically i think those two have letters in their serial numbers because they're from a slightly different line to the usual robot masters, dedicated to robots made with technology that's more experimental and requires a lot more testing before they can be safely assigned to a job. hex is definitely experimental enough to qualify for the line, what with most of their body being made of electromagnetic nonsense. i don't know who 00C through 00F are [i arbitrarily picked g for ghost lmao], but hex is at least friends with their two brothers! them and oil routinely team up to annoy several years off of time's lifespan

although they don't mind the work itself, they absolutely hate how lonely their job makes them. space is really quiet and empty, and even when they're working in the presence of other people [which isn't too often, since most satellites don't carry astronauts on board] they don't get much opportunity to interact with anyone beyond very formal radio conversations. outside of their creator and their closest brothers, they don't really have a social circle at all, and the loneliness gets to them at times. their meanness and affinity for pranks are definitely attention seeking behaviours, developed as a direct response to that chronic loneliness. they're so desperate for interaction that they'll take whatever they can get, even if it's just 'dude what is your problem'

while they're stubbornly against admitting it, even [especially] to themself, hex really loves their work, if not the side effects on their mental health. they actually enjoy taking in the sights and the feeling of space before the existential dread sets in, and they genuinely find it really satisfying and rewarding to successfully fix something - even when it's got nothing to do with their job, they can often be found fiddling around with broken bits of machinery and trying to get them to work just for fun. they're really handy and good at problem solving, and kinda like to show off about it lmao. they probably make horrifying frankengadgets by soldering chunks of gameboys and lawnmowers and led lights together into a single awful contraption that somehow does one specific thing absolutely perfectly

they're weak to pixel firewall because it's basically just a solid wall of electricity, which again would be super bad for the delicate field holding them together. to fit with their ghostly nature, every weapon that they aren't weak to [and isn't the mega buster because that'd be unfair lmao] phases right through them without doing damage at all. they're also weak to their own weapon! again, since eerie pulsar is just an electromagnetic pulse tinted purple it's really dangerous for them to get blasted with that. also i'm going off of pokemon logic, ghost beats ghost

also the anon who told me that hex is 'very gender,' before i even retconned them into being nonbinary no less, knows what's up. i've been using they/them and the 'ace' modifier - which a friend of mine once suggested as an equivalent to man/woman for nonbinary robot masters - throughout this post just for consistency, but hex is agender and accepts any pronouns or gendered terms! they don't care for gender one bit but they absolutely live for the confusion people tend to have trying to figure out what theirs is

i think purely design-wise hex might just be my favourite of the bunch, if only because of how blatantly self-indulgent everything about them is lmao. i like ghosts and i LOVE outer space, so of course i made a ghost robot and put them in space AND made them nonbinary to boot. it's the responsible thing to do! i started with a name and theme and kinda worked backwards from there. how is a robot a ghost? maybe they've got some kind of personal antigravity field! why do they have that? maybe they work in space! why does the spaceship repair robot have to be a ghost? suspension of disbelief, babey!!!!!

that's about it for the hex infodump! as mean as they are, they're a fiercely loyal friend if you're lucky enough to get to know them. love is stored in the hex ace even if they won't admit it and i adore them so much. once again, here's their art without any special effects!

[whoreofabaddon]

I'm still high enough on the thrill of finally getting tickets to Rasputin that I've convinced myself to finally write about my desire to just mercilessly bully Hozier about the whole dispute between him and Sergei Polunin.

I suppose it would be easy to say that I'm overly defensive of Sergei Polunin, and I’ll be honest that I’m certainly gentler with him than I might be to most men. I've found a lot of comfort in what he's done through the years, in the beauty and rawness of his dancing, the way he's talked about love, and even in his honesty about his self-destructive journey. It takes a great deal of strength and vulnerability to admit to self-mutilation, eating disorders, addiction, brain damage and sexual abuse.

I think that all of that pain is so obvious in the video he did for Take Me to Church. And I think that Hozier saw that and he did something truly beautiful when he wrote Sergei’s name into Movement (and had him star in the video). The lyric ‘I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free’ is genuinely romantic and you can see a bit of allusion to Sergei’s desire to forsake dance when he made the Take Me to Church video when Hozier goes on to describe the beauty that comes in having nothing left to lose. The way Sergei talked about hearing that song and the impact that it had on him…it was a truly touching moment in the same way that Hozier had felt so moved at seeing his song being used earlier. 

Could there be anything more pure than their mutual inspiration from one another’s art?

It's impossible to deny that Hozier is a truly talented lyricist and singer. I genuinely love his music but sometimes I can't help but feel that he's almost performative in his demonstration of being 'enlightened.' It took him what? Three seconds to condemn the man that he’d built up this connection to because Sergei stated a disdain for the trend of removing gendered roles from classical ballet.

What irritates me about this is that allowing men to perform en pointe has always been controversial in the world of ballet, and Sergei was hardly the first person to find it distasteful. There’s a relationship to certain physical sex-based attributes, there’s a debate about the merit of allowing men to take something from women that could limit women’s roles, and there’s even a pretty solid history of putting men en pointe to mime women who aren’t deemed sexually desirable.

Sergei doesn’t have the language to say any of that, he doesn’t have the education that many others benefit from, and he certainly doesn’t have the cultural tendency to dance around his point. It’s absurd to expect that someone speaking his third language who has a 7th grade education is going to phase things like a professor of gender studies! It’s infuriating also that people took his (admittedly) poorly phrased comment and rapidly added their own homophobic projections onto him. (And when Sergei spoke in Russian he said quite clearly “I cannot support men who lack the talent of women, and are permitted to do less but receive more because they are men.”)

 A man who has openly admitted to being comfortable ‘kissing with tongue’ with gay friends, has snuggled himself between ex-husbands Dolce and Gabbana, has tattooed his gay idol on himself, and frequently acknowledges his career is owed to gay men….is not suddenly homophobic because he doesn’t believe men should wear pointe shoes. Frankly, its far more homophobic to suggest that gay men clearly must preform female roles in ballet than anything he’s ever said. 

But how does this link back to my anger at Hozier?

It was so easy for Hozier to just dismiss Sergei even after acknowledging that he was incredibly kind and gentle when he met him. Hozier prioritized the morality of a mob on the internet (who aren’t even knowledgeable about the world of ballet) because they knew what words to use. Because Sergei was relying on a third language, because he’s uneducated, because he’s mentally ill, because he’s from a different culture…it was more satisfying to assume that he’s secretly hateful than it was admit that maybe his life experiences have molded him into something different than the perfect ideal of a troubled artist. 

It was easy enough to use his face, his name, his image…up until it came time to realize that he wasn’t an upper middle class Westerner. The second he needed support because he displayed those demons that Hozier had once appreciated, in any way other than scarring his pretty body, he was easy to throw to the wolves. 

[pizzazz-party]

Ring Analysis Part 1: Synchronizing— How It Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

...As well as the world he lives in. Our buddy Ring may explain very little about himself, but he doesn’t need to if you’re paying—obsessive—attention to detail.

(Gameplay spoilers up to World 20 under the cut.)

For a mechanic that’s important enough to merit a cutscene, and then goes on to envelop every part of the game, “synchronizing” gets a handful of lines before it’s never explicitly brought up again.

So let’s go over this scene.

“Synchronizing” is, at first glance, a simple exchange of traits. That’s not entirely wrong. Trainee does physically take on characteristics specific to Ring, like the flaming hair, and Ring does gain access to her heartbeat reading, sort of like a living stethoscope.

But what syncing actually is, is a symbiotic relationship. It’s both participants “recalibrating” themselves to the other as best as each of them are able. For a flesh-and-blood partner that’s not built for syncing, this means physically changing to become something a little closer to Ring. (More on that later.) For Ring, a magical being designed with the extra sensory input in mind, it invisibly grants him access to the other’s most invaluable resource: their exercise energy.

Like synchronizing, “exercise energy” is another lovely concept that was mentioned once and then never again. So much so that I’ve been accidentally calling it “fitness energy” for weeks and am still trying to correct my reflexes.

But exercise energy is everything. If all it takes is a simple read of a heartbeat to jumpstart a sync bond, exercise energy is the glue that cements it together. Because Ring and Trainee don’t stop being synced whenever they’re not physically touching. They separate all the time. They can put a little distance between themselves and still be at the height of synchronization, even. But let’s take a step back for a moment, and talk about that “physically changing to become something a little closer to Ring” aspect.

Say that Trainee is doing a leg move at peak performance. Her hair is flaring up. Her legs are glowing that same yellowish hue—because they’re full of exercise energy. That’s what that is. That’s what it must be. It’s what Ring himself is partially made of, seeing as the same stuff flows through his veinlike tubes. Seriously. Look at this. It’s the same goddamn color.

I can’t understate how incredibly important exercise energy is. To synchronizing, to Ring, and to literally everything else. Exercise energy is a type of life energy. In the world of Ring Fit, it’s in everything, everywhere—in varying levels of purity and concentration. When Trainee is performing a fit skill, she almost seems to absorb a mystical...something... from the open air around her, as she charges up a skill. Thin lines of light streak towards her as she lights up, not away. See for yourself.

Trainee isn’t a normal inhabitant of “Planet Fitness.” She doesn’t know how to manipulate exercise energy very well on her own. It looks like being synced with Ring has made her somewhat biologically closer to being made of exercise energy herself, and with that? The slight ability to absorb it from the air around her. It’s a really small thing, likely just a tiny boost of power she’s drawing in from her surroundings (and returning right back after a move is complete). But it’s there. It’s visibly happening. With one exception, this doesn’t occur outside of a fit battle. And that makes sense. A fit skill taking more energy than an air blast is very reasonable. Those crates littering the place are a lot less hardy than...whatever you would classify Monsters as. 

I mentioned an exception. Here it is:

Victory posing is such an odd little tradition, isn’t it? It’s unskippable; Ring always insists on it. And at first glance, his instructions are weird. “Pull in energy from the ground” sounds a bit like nonsense...except in this shot, Trainee is actually standing on a glowing platform full of Exercise Energy. (Yes, that’s what that is.) The moment she’s done charging her squat power, thin lines of light streak upwards— some into Trainee. And when she raises her arms, she expels all that excess energy into the open air. You can watch the process here.

And that’s where most of the EXP from victory posing comes from—from the well of exercise energy humming beneath her feet.

Exercise energy is life energy in constant motion. It’s created (for a lack of a better word) constantly as the body moves and burns calories. It’s also expelled constantly, and this is most visible when Trainee works out. It is not, under any circumstances, meant to be trapped in the body forever. But the act of having possessed any of it at all gives Trainee EXP, a byproduct, which can be kept forever.

———

Ring says in the initial cutscene, “The more you exercise, the more synchronized we’ll be!” The more Trainee exercises, the more exercise energy her body holds at time. The more exercise energy she holds, the more alike she and Ring are in that very moment. The more alike they are—the more in sync they are.

———

The two way connection created by synchronizing is closer to a metaphysical fusion of both participants than a simple trade off. Ring’s powers are (almost but not quite) Trainee’s powers. Trainee’s body is (almost but not quite) Ring’s body. It’s both easy and hard to see where one’s work stops and the other’s begins. So let’s lay down some quick facts.

One! In terms of powers—everything Ring and Trainee can do together, Ring can do alone. It’ll be weaker. But he can do it. He’s got his own supply of exercise energy and he’s a master at manipulating it. Ring is not helpless; you are.

Two! The glowing limbs you fight with in a fit battle belong to Ring—not Trainee. Here are even some screen caps of Ring vaguely referring to them both. (It’s even in all-important blue text.)

Three! Ring is always actively contributing to your fit battles. He is never just counting reps or giving tips. As Trainee charges up a fit skill, Ring is constantly channeling the resulting energy into powering up his battle constructs. He is actively aiming said constructs for you, always.

In the case of specific fit skills, where Ring’s battle constructs immediately appear as buff as can be—it’s because Trainee is helping. A lot of what these instances have in common is the fact that the fit skills in question are less... involved?

Imagine being Trainee, and trying to keep a good aim on the enemy as you do the Mountain Climber move. (Or even squats. I do too many of those and I start disconnecting from reality.) The Ring Raise move, on the other hand, is gentler and gives Trainee a clear, unobstructed view of the enemy throughout the whole exercise. It gives her the wiggle room to try her hand at manipulating her own exercise energy directly.

With Ring and Trainee working together, the charge-up effect is therefore instantaneous.

Four! Canonically, despite the two of them being synced, Ring can shut off Trainee’s access to his powers at any time. That’s because, for them to work in the first place, Ring must be consciously activating them. In some animations at the start of a course, Trainee stretches by pulling on him at both ends. This should summon a suction vortex. But it doesn’t. Because Ring knows Trainee is just doing a pre-run stretch.

It explains why you can’t summon a Mega Ab Guard whenever you feel like it; only when Ring suggests it. Or why you can’t just suck up tokens in mini games like Dreadmill (Ring is too honest to help you cheat). Yes, it’s a game mechanic thing. But it’s a mechanic that Ring canonically controls. Trainee absolutely cannot use any of his abilities without his explicit consent. And that’s probably why she hasn’t accidentally killed somebody in combat yet—Ring is super careful. (He’s a professional, you know.)

———

Now that we have a better understanding of what exercise energy is and a better grasp on how Ring works—let’s circle back one more time to that “physically changing to become something a little closer to Ring” aspect. Because there’s one last insane thing we skipped over.

Trainee is initially the baseline in our understanding of what exercise energy looks like in a human being. Her yellow-orange flames are our constant companion—and therefore we get misled, because Trainee is an outlier. She is synced to Ring, and Ring is extraordinary. So she’s not a good example of the average person.

But in this case, despite being a literal master, Guru Andma is.

Guru Andma, “the balance master,” is the only other human character we see using attacks consisting of all three muscle groups. Her fight is a wealth of knowledge in of itself. When she flexes her arms, they fill with RED energy. When she flexes her abdomen, it fills with YELLOW energy. When she flexes her leg, it fills with BLUE energy. This is the standard for human beings. This is normal.

What this implies then, is that synchronizing with Ring has overwritten Trainee’s original energy signature. Ring’s energy is decidedly NOT human. It’s not even fit-skill yellow; it looks close, but it’s really something else entirely. Ring of course can convert Trainee’s energy into traditional reds, yellows, and blues for a fight. (Or at least, he can fake it if he doesn’t have his Color Coding ability. He once mimicked the flames of Dark Influence early on in the game; some superficial color editing is not above him.)

But yeah. Trainee’s energy is now definitely abnormal.

And yet the process didn’t seem to put her in any physical pain? I really doubt Ring would have sprung that on her if it did. (I mean, he still should have asked for permission first.) I’d wager the effects of syncing, as deep as are, aren’t permanent once the bond is dissolved. What Ring is doing—“synchronizing”—is somehow, simultaneously, extremely mystical and yet completely natural.

———

Last segment, before I let you go.

For a long time, I wondered: what are the prerequisites, that denote syncing potential? Not impressive muscles, I’m sure; it’s heavily implied Dragaux once synced with Ring, and he was infamously skinny. Could the general attitude of a person play a role, if Ring’s energy is pure positive exercise energy? Or could it be genetic? Maybe even entirely random?

I wasn’t sure until I fought the four masters, and especially after fighting Guru Andma.

I’ll bet you anything that there’s something inherently flexible about Trainee, for a human. Something more malleable, and therefore more amenable to undergoing the dramatic changes of a sync bond. And I’ll bet you further that it has something to do with the fact that Trainee had zero previous experience wielding exercise energy at the start of the game.

Because Ring tells Trainee she has potential right after identifying that she’s new.

(The less developed a person is initially, the easier it could be to sync with Ring. Whereas a person with more intensive training would be incompatible.)

And if you’re still convinced that Ring was just impressed with her muscles—please remember that Ring is not human, and does not experience life through the same lens. It’s implied he can “see” energy with more than just his eyes. It’s how you can drop him in a new temple in an unfamiliar land and he’ll still be able to tell Trainee when she’s close to the finish line. (He forgot what static stretching was that one time. He does not have these floor plans memorized.) To him, those glowing wells at the end are like straight up beacons.

He was absolutely examining her energy.

———

To Ring, syncing probably isn’t worth writing an entire essay about. It’s natural to him, instinctive. It’s Ring making a promise to watch over someone, and to have their back as they will have his. And I think that’s beautiful. Frustrating to my curiosity, but beautiful.

———

TLDR; Synchronizing is a metaphysical bond sustained through Exercise Energy, a substance mentioned once in World 1 that encompasses the whole game. It exists everywhere in everything, in different variations of intensity and purity. Ring especially is partially made of exercise energy. It’s the glowing stuff in his tubes. There’s more, but that’s the gist of it. DISCLAIMER: This is for fun! I just wanted to try my hand at explaining how the magical sentient Pilates ring works. I feel pretty strongly about my conclusions, but I’ll go back and edit this if/when/where applicable. Thank you for reading.

———

EDIT (June 20, 2021): Updated header image. Also added a link to Ring mimicking DI.

EDIT (August 12, 2021): Added links to part 2 and 3.

———

RING ANALYSIS

Part 1: Synchronizing— How it Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

[honeymoonjin]

part of the 2020 sapphest fic fest, cross-posted to ao3

pairing: jungkook x hoseok x namjoon

word count: 8.1k  ||  rating: sfw  ||  genre: magical realism

summary: jungkook doesn’t know what she wants in life. but maybe the cottage-dwelling botanist and warlock she moves in with could help. or, perhaps, they might even be the answer.

notes: i apologise if this isn’t up to scratch, i haven’t written an actual oneshot i think since jan/feb (?) so i know i’m rusty. also, this fic contains a trans female jungkook, cis female namjoon and non binary hoseok so i really do hope i’ve done them justice, it’s my first time writing characters with differing gender expressions. please do let me know what you think with a reblog or an ask, it really makes my day and would help a lot as i’m trying to get back into writing. thank you and i love you xxx

------

Jungkook feels the gripping pressure around her heart ease with every step she takes down the street, fading into phantom pangs once the tall apartment building falls out of view.

She had never quite gotten used to it; the relief in a lack of something, the bliss of less. Her family’s worries seeped into her bones, soured her tongue when she was home. At high school, and especially at university, the stress of other students buffeted her like gales of wind. The brief moments of respite when she’d walk to the bus stop always felt so fleeting, like a gasp of air that didn’t quite fill her lungs enough.

Now, though, she didn’t stop there. She walked further, sucking in deeper breaths.

The train station lay close to the centre of town, but it was never that busy in the late morning, something she’d known fully well before going.

Her phone buzzes in her front pocket, no doubt her mother wishing her safe travels again. She doesn’t answer it, though. Happiness is a sweet tang behind her teeth, and her respite from obligation is a welcome one.

Her train is already pulling into the station when she steps up to the platform, and she wastes no time in scanning her card and finding a seat, tucked in the least occupied corner.

It doesn’t take long for the cramped blocks of Seoul to open up into countryside, and with it comes an openness in Jungkook’s chest that she only remembers feeling once before, a family vacation to an island that felt so blurry in her childhood memory.

Her gift wasn’t so strong then, but still Jungkook finds herself, over a decade later, seeking out nature as a balm for the mood pollution of city life.

When she’s as far south as the train allows, she disembarks. Not a single other soul steps foot off into the station, and it seems nobody is around.

It’s more a bus stop with rails than a train station, really. A roughly squareish pad of thick concrete sits beside the old tracks, a steel park bench and signpost the only things adorning it.

Around the lonely station is an open plain with few trees. On the opposite side, vast untended fields sprout daisies and dandelions, rising gracefully to low hills in the distance. On Jungkook’s side, a single narrow path of sun bleached dirt cuts through the wild grass, leading her to civilisation.

It’s a quiet walk. Not that she minds, of course; on the contrary, the remoteness of this place settles her and allows her to appreciate the finer sounds that normally get drowned out. The grass and scattered trees rustle gently in the wind. A few birds that roost in the shade of the branches chirp to each other, and the melodic noise brings a smile to Jungkook’s face.

When the small path she wanders along finally leads her to a series of small, traditionally-built houses, she’s unsurprised to find them seemingly abandoned. There’s no signs of life outside, and no evidence of human mood anywhere in her body. Even more than the rundown appearance of the outpost, Jungkook trusts her natural gift.

So when a tug in her chest leads her past the small crop of houses, she doesn’t hesitate. There is something for her here, something she may not yet have the words to explain, but for the first time she’s letting herself follow the currents that run through her veins, instead of trying to live around them.

The path lifts.

Like the train station was the base of a funnel, the land rises into hills on this side too, the extra exertion heating her calves with each step. Eventually, the narrow spine of dirt becomes overgrown with grass, and she’s forced to trample over it, ducking around low-hanging branches and stumbling over roots as the trees cluster around her, welcoming her into the cool shade of the hillside.

The crest of the hill has a jagged notch missing like a chipped tooth, providing a shortcut to the other side. The sun peeks through worn walls of ancient stone. It glares in Jungkook’s eyes, but even that brightness is overwhelmed by something stronger that radiates from the very ground itself. Euphoria.

Though her gift was still sometimes a mystery to her, Jungkook had learnt to distinguish most moods. In her cramped suburbia, she’d generally just been exposed to human feelings and the occasional animal, but she could still recognise the specific energy that plants give off.

Stronger with every step she takes, her soles practically vibrate with the flow of plant life singing out in joy - the joy of thriving, of being taken care of. Her own excitement wells up inside her, and her feet pick up their pace until the thud of grass changes into the slap of heavy soles on rock. She slips through the narrow crevasse of stone at the peak of the hill, breath catching at what greets her on the other side.

Like some kind of paradise, lush colours and fragrances mingle in the fresh air. The slope is much gentler here, and instead of uneven undergrowth and stubborn shrubbery, graceful rows of trees fill the open plains in front of her.

An orchard of plum trees with their pink blossoms rests to her left, rich purple fruits beginning to grow from them. Beside, a thicket of orange trees brighten the landscape with the bold citrus, only a few white flowers remaining on the branches. The green apple trees in front of her are laden with fruit, the branches hanging low. To her right, she even spots the brilliant pink spheres of pomegranate, though surely her eyes deceive her.

There’s no clear path through the foliage, though each row kindly provides enough space for a person or two to wander through, so Jungkook takes one such gap at random. There looks to be a fairly old though well-tended cottage beyond the trees, and even as the ecstasy of the healthy orchards envelops her in warmth, she feels the tug in her chest still guiding her forward.

Her body adjusts to the strong flow of positivity. It clears her mind, opens her lungs; like breathing pure mountain air. She has no idea what she’s really doing - trespassing and approaching a stranger’s house like this - but already the thought of having to leave here and find a place to stay makes her stomach curl.

Between the line of trees she can make out the front-facing wall of the cottage. Made up of wide planks of wood, slightly uneven with all the knots and flecks left on the surface, green creeping ivy runs lines across the edges of the plants like earthy seams. That’s all she can see, though, and the first sign of human life doesn’t come from what she sees but rather what she hears.

Reaching her ears even around the happy murmur of greenery, a bright voice hums a meandering but cheery tune, interspersed with chirped phrases that Jungkook can’t quite make out yet.

She approaches slowly, but impatiently peeks around the trunks of trees for a glimpse at the individual. The movement, the colour, the tint of energy that she feels off of them is unlike anything she’s felt before. Pure light, just as brilliant as it is tender.

She steps forward again, foot snapping a fallen twig. Suddenly, that stranger’s energy wobbles, the freezes in the air altogether. Jungkook pauses, knows she’s caught.

“A visitor?” the new voice exclaims incredulously, almost as if talking to themselves. “Are you human, visitor?”

Jungkook swallows. Whoever it was must not have been able to see her. “Mostly,” she replies hesitantly.

As if that’s the right answer, a joyous hoot rings out through the orchard, and light thumps skip closer. A smile stretches across Jungkook’s face entirely unconsciously, her eyes widening when the person finally darts into sight, hand hooked on an orange tree at the very end of the row.

“A friend, then!” the apparent owner of the house declares. They’re dressed for gardening, though dressed is perhaps overly generous. With bare feet and cropped, slightly curly hair, the only thing the person is even wearing is a pair of overalls, dirt on the knees, the leg cuffs rolled up to their calves and the front only just covering their otherwise naked chest. Every inch of skin revealed down to the elfish slope of their nose is a warm, rich bronze, like the sun itself has sunk below the surface and is instead shining outwards. It matches the high energy that Jungkook feels off of them, making her heart race.

Used to modest - even prudish - city fashion, Jungkook swallows at the delicate shoulders and collarbones that contrast enticingly with the swell of their biceps. Averting her eyes, she clears her throat and introduces herself. “And sorry for, uh, intruding,” she offers up with a grimace.

But the stranger waves it off, the movement exposing a flash of something gold on their palm. “Don’t be,” they respond easily, “we haven’t had a guest in years. Name’s Hoseok, by the way.”

“Jungkook,” Jungkook replies without thinking, making the other’s eyes light up even more. “I don’t even… I don’t really know why I’m here.”

Hoseok seems to be expecting this answer. “You should come inside, Jungkook. I built up wards against humans about three years ago when we moved in - it’s not even on any maps now! - so if you’re here, you’re here for a reason. Just because you don’t know it yet doesn’t mean it isn’t important.” They state this all like it’s a matter of fact, and Jungkook herself feels instinctively swayed by the logic. Or, perhaps, swayed by the way Hoseok’s back flexes behind the straps of the overalls as they turn towards the house, leading her there.

Jungkook swallows, trying to distract herself from the beautiful being in front of her. “Are you a, um-” but even her first question isn’t so clear. Unsure what to choose, she goes with the statistically more common option. “-are you a witch like me?”

Hoseok cranes their head back with an easy grin, boyish waves framing their face like a dark halo. “That’s up for debate. Technically, sure, but I don’t really like using the term witch or wizard. Lots of non-binary folk just use warlock, mostly. But yes, I have magic. Come see.”

They hold out their palm, then, and Jungkook jogs forward a few steps to catch up, just breaking out of the shade of the orchard as Hoseok tilts their hand towards her.

Like the rest of Hoseok’s skin, their palm is a warm golden shade, though it positively glows, an ethereal brightness resting below the skin, centred in their palm but reaching as far as their fingertips like five tiny lamps. “Sunhands,” Hoseok explains simply, their hands radiating a delicate warmth. “Had them since I was born. Helps me grow things year-round,” they finish, gesturing loosely in front of them.

Finally breaking her gaze from Hoseok’s beautiful gift, Jungkook looks ahead, unable to stop herself from gasping in a breath. “It’s gorgeous,” she offers up, but the compliment feels lame in comparison to the haven she’s met with.

Hoseok hums proudly nonetheless, and gives Jungkook time to take it in.

The house is every bit the rustic, homely cottage Jungkook had envisaged from the glimpse she got, but her heart is taken by the details. The wooden face she’s met with is clearly the side of it, hosting a small woodshed complete with an axe half-embedded in a tree stump and a tiny freestanding barbecue grill. The house itself is two-storied, although the second floor looks much smaller than the first. A round glass window peeks out from the top. Jungkook thinks she sees something move behind it, but her attention is quickly pulled by the glint of glass in the sun off to her right.

Behind the house, taking up almost the same ground space as the other building itself, a glasshouse blooms with vibrant green. Lush ivy trails up the frame on either side of the rounded top like a set of ribs bracketing the plant life inside. Unlike the neat rows of fruit trees, it looked like a dense forest within those crystal clear walls; the only signs of human intervention were the rows of metal shelves housing smaller plants, and irrigation pipes fitted inside.

“Our little sanctuary,” Hoseok sighs happily, seeing where Jungkook’s gaze has wandered. “My wife’s a botanist by trade, her specialty is in endangered species. Most of these only bloom very rarely, or don’t survive well in regular soils. We’ve spent a long time cultivating them. I use my gift to grow them; she uses her gift to study them.”

Jungkook tries to tamp down the ebb of disappointment that arises. “Your wife?”

“In all ways but legal,” Hoseok confirms with a dreamy grin. “She’ll just love you, I know it already. Come on; let’s get out of the heat.”

There’s a swing bench on the porch outside the front door with a lone novel resting atop it, open page-down as if the reader had to leave it there without a bookmark to keep their spot. Hoseok skirts past it, wiggling their feet briefly on a worn mat before stepping inside.

Feeling so out of her depth, Jungkook doesn’t protest, but instead pauses just inside the door, unsure if she should take off her boots.

Hoseok notices and winces. “We don’t, uh, we don’t have any spare house slippers. If you wanna keep them on, you can.”

Jungkook bends down to toggle the zips down anyway, letting her socked feet enjoy the respite of the cool hardwood floor. “You have a really nice place,” she offers up, though it’s quite the understatement.

To the right is a narrow set of stairs leading up to a mezzanine. There’s only one closed door up there that Jungkook can see, no doubt leading to the second-floor window she’d seen earlier.

The other side is a short hallway lined with what looks like homemade artworks and photographs. Down at the far end, the sun shines into a kitchen, but Jungkook doesn’t get a good look before she’s ferried up the stairs, the third step creaking under her socked foot.

“Knock knock,” Hoseok sings out instead of actually rapping on the closed door, squishing their cheek against the frame. A murmur comes from inside, and they open the door immediately, flocking inside. “A new friend, Joon-ah!”

When Jungkook slips inside shyly, her breath is immediately taken away by the beauty of the person inside. Not just their looks, though she’s never seen hair as glossy and graceful as theirs, and eyes as bright. But being near them feels like standing on the bank of a still, clear lake. Deep with wisdom but still teeming with life and curiosity. With a set of tortoiseshell reading glasses almost tipping off their nose, the person seated at the chair feels like the heart of the house, the heart of the whole region.

“Does this new friend of ours have a name? Preferred pronouns?”

Jungkook can’t do much more than blink. She’s dreamt about this, obsessed over this for years, but it may just be the first time anyone’s ever actually asked her in real life. “Sh- uh- Jungkook, she/her. Th-thank you for asking.”

The beauty in front of her smiles, and Jungkook’s knees threaten to give out at the serene warmth and endearing dimple. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Joon, by the way. I use she/her too. I’m sure Hoseok forgot entirely, but they use they/them. Always best to check, don’t you agree?”

Jungkook’s nodding immediately in response before she even processes it. “Yeah, I- that’s helpful, thank you.” Her mind feels hazy. People in the city never felt this vibrant, mixed with the blissful hum on the soles of her feet from the plantlife outside. She fights to wrangle her mind back into something coherent “Um… Hoseok said you had a gift too?”

Joon’s brows furrow delicately, swiveling her chair back to face them fully. She’d been seated at a busy-looking desk when they entered, writing notes into the margin of a yellowed textbook. Now, Jungkook can appreciate her simple choice of outfit: just a loose t-shirt and some thin fabric sweats, she nevertheless exudes pure grace, even as she quirks a brow towards Hoseok.

The latter coughs lightly, scratching their bare shoulder under one of the overall straps. “I mean… I would call you gifted, love,” they state in an imploring tone.

Joon just lets out a breathy chuckle and turns back to their newcomer. “I’m fully human, actually. My history is academic rather than magical.”

“I am curious, though,” Hoseok chirps, hooking one of their legs on the arm of Joon’s chair and draping themself half onto her, “what’s your gift, Jungkook? You’ve seen mine. Elemental,” Hoseok states, patting their bronzed palms on Joon’s thighs.

If Jungkook pauses to process the public display of queer affection in front of her - as well as the unfurling of mutual fondness emanating off the couple - she might just pass out, so she clears her throat and directs her gaze a few inches above their heads. “Sensory,” she explains. “I feel moods from other beings. I think the trees and stuff outside brought me here, actually.”

Hoseok blinks, eyes wide. One of their overall straps has slipped down, exposing one side of their chest, making Joon tut and tuck it back up again, but the gifted one takes no note. “The trees? You can feel the trees?”

Jungkook shrugs, but her insides glow at the impressed tone to their voice. “Yeah, I, uh, I can’t really do much with it, so I studied house magic at university. I rented out house witch services for some extra money, so that helps.”

Joon’s smile warms even further at the mention of study, her eyes crinkled with some bemusing inside joke. “We might just have to keep you, then,” she quirks, “as amazing as Hoseok is, their skills don’t really extend to the indoors. Mind you, I’m even worse myself.”

Hoseok hums, unflapped by the comment. “I never had a knack for fiddly stuff. I much prefer getting my clothes dirty than cleaning them.” Seeing how worn and discoloured the knees of Hoseok’s overalls are, Jungkook doesn’t doubt that for a second.

But her mind can’t really focus on that. Her own nerves rattle through her body, metallic on the insides of her cheeks. “I, um… I could help? If you wanted?”

The tentative flicker of interest reaches Jungkook from both parties, allowing her to get her hopes up. Nevertheless, she bites her tongue and braces herself for rejection. Did she even have enough money on her card for the train ride home? Stupid, she was-

Joon beams warmly, though with a touch of hesitation. “We’d love that, really we would. We just… We don’t have much human currency, Jungkook.”

Jungkook blinks, chest flipping as she rushes to shake her head. “I don’t need it, honest! Do you- If you had a place for me to crash, or…”

Hoseok sucks in a breath through their teeth and jostles Joon playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, love, we could move some of those old boxes up here and she could have the spare room. Don’t you want to keep her?”

Even faced with Hoseok’s all-but-bare back, Jungkook can sense their pleading eyes with the way that Joon melts in her chair. She pats Hoseok on the shoulder. “Up you get, then, sunshine. It’ll need some dusting too.” The curled brunette heaves themself up, peppering a kiss on Joon’s cheek before slinking out the room.

Jungkook isn’t quite sure if the rising ecstasy in her chest is all her or a shared blend of the people around her, but she knows she’s never felt so bright. “Thank you so much, Joon! What jobs do you need help with?” She turns when she feels the tingling, menthol-esque blossom of hope directed at her back. Near the top of the stairs, Hoseok still remains, their cheek squashed against the banister and eyes glistening. “I could always clear out the room for you?”

Hoseok begins to perk up but Joon just tuts. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart, you just put your feet up. We aren’t going to put you to work straight away.”

“We aren’t?” Hoseok murmurs in unbidden disappointment.

Joon tries to hide her smile, but her lips quirk up fondly at her partner nonetheless. “The cleaning spray and broom are in the hallway cupboard downstairs,” she divulges, receiving a dramatic whine in return. “Suffering builds character, dear.”

A sulky, “yeah, yeah… love you,” is heard from the foot of the stairs.

Joon lets out a breathy chuckle and returns the affection, before standing up from her desk and nodding warmly at Jungkook. “Perfect weather for a lunch picnic, don’t you think? I might go down and see what I can prepare. Why don’t you explore a bit, or go rest? The couch in the living room is divine for taking naps.” With that, she departs, leaving Jungkook alone in the attic to process the absurdity of the past hour.

Feeling less like an intruder than before, Jungkook welcomes the opportunity to fully roam the outside of the property, admiring the lush wildlife and vegetation. The open plains go far beyond the opposite side of the house, leading to a sharper cliff face going up. Jungkook even thinks she can spot the thin vein of a waterfall if she squints, but there’s plenty of beauty at her feet for her to discover first.

While the grove of trees flanks the house on one side, the far side boasts rows and rows of garden beds, the dirt a richer brown than the rest. Fat strawberries weigh down their stalks in some plots, leafy greens spill over the sides in others. The vast range of produce is almost unbelievable, with the side of the house itself displaying a maze of herb pots. Most of them were cooking-based, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the orange spots of brewer’s mint, the sharp, wicked-looking leaves of murkroot and even a small terracotta pot of Jupiter sage. She was well-versed in magical ingredients, but had never seen them fresh outside of her university’s greenhouse. She could only imagine there were many more in the tall glass structure behind Joon and Hoseok’s house. Her fingers itch to test them, to wow her new landlords with a pain-reliever salve or the perfect dream-infused tea. It can wait, she tells herself. If they were growing them, perhaps they used them for something else.

A wet huff interrupts her musing, and she jumps when she feels something moving against her leg. Glancing down, she’s relieved to find the new presence is a tubby, short-haired dog with sleepy eyes, back arched as it stretches first its front legs, then its back, before collapsing onto its back, wriggling against Jungkook’s boot.

She lets out a disbelieving laugh, reaching down to gingerly rub the creature’s belly. The dog all but purrs, legs kicking in the air and tail thumping rhythmically against the sun-bleached wooden veranda.

“Where did you come from, huh?” Jungkook crouches, feeling her calf muscles ache but grinning at the way the dog seeks out her attention shamelessly, not hesitant at all about the presence of a stranger.

“Ah, I see you met Cho,” a warm voice comes from above her. Jungkook cranes her neck up, admiring Joon’s tall form. “She’s a rescue.”

A rescue? Paired with the close view of the gorgeous botanist, Jungkook has to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek to push her feelings down. She’d fall in love if she wasn’t careful. “Is that so?” she asks, willing her voice to be steady.

Joon nods, kneeling down to gently run her knuckles behind the dog’s ears, tan fur paling to white on the very tips. “I had to go to a nearby town for supplies, and found this wee girl in an alleyway digging in some bins. My heart broke for her, I just couldn’t leave her there.” She lets out a light laugh. “She was so skinny that Hob-ah called her chopstick. Now, though, she’s built like a barrel, so we just call her Cho.”

Cho wiggles her butt against the veranda, paw hooking on Jungkook’s wrist the moment the petting pauses. Continuing to pat the canine, Jungkook sighs. “That’s really sweet of you. She looks really healthy.”

A spontaneous laugh erupts from Joon’s nose. “She just about eats more than us, she better be. Anyways; I better get back to work. I just came out here to grab some mint for the lemonade.”

Jungkook stays hunched on the floor with Cho - whose nose is burrowed wetly into her furled palm - while Joon approaches the trellis of herb pots, gently plucking some soft green leaves off a plant that’s low enough to make her bend at the waist. Biting her lip harshly, Jungkook averts her gaze from the way her pale sweatpants pull taut around her hips with the movement.

Before long, the botanist returns inside, causing Cho to let out an indignant sneeze and scramble up to join her.

Jungkook exhales until her lungs feel concave. Back in a moment of quiet, she runs her fingertips over the texture of the wooden veranda. The energy from Joon’s unhurried focus feels like the echo of strong hands on Jungkook’s shoulders, but past it is the playful jab of Hoseok’s mock frustration. She grins, picturing the warlock fiddling with an old broom or trying to line up the corners of a fitted sheet. The tang of surprise has long since faded from Jungkook’s mouth, and it’s nice to sit in the warmth of both the sun and their welcome.

She breathes deeply, inhaling the fresh smell of clean air and fresh earth, and smiles.

For such a small house, there really is no shortage of work for Jungkook. Some things are easy fixes, like a permanent polish salve for the heavy mahogany bookcase in the main room or the several anti-dust spells she casts around the house. Others take days at a time to chip away at - she’d forgotten just how long it takes to fully steep a digestion aid tea to cure Hoseok’s raging lactose intolerance - but her two new housemates never nag or criticise. In fact, she’s found a warm foundation of purpose inside her that she hadn’t had since she graduated.

Each evening, when her hands begin to ache or the recipes on her phone look fuzzy, she packs up and joins the two lovebirds for dinner. It’s become a domestic ritual to help them cook, chat for a few hours on the porch as the sun slips below the hills, and then turn in for a restful night of sleep. It’s meant to be a full moon tonight - the fourth one since Jungkook arrived - and their routine is no different, gathered on the edge of the porch facing the open fields behind the house. It’s peaceful, Jungkook thinks. She’s more content now than she’s been in a long time.

There’s something...worrying bubbling within her with every shared moment, though. It’s in the way her pulse leaps when Hoseok beams at her, or the stuttered heartbeat in her chest with Joon’s casual touch. She knows they’re together, can feel the resonance of their affections inside her, yet she can’t help pretending those vibrations are directed at her. Lets herself accept the fond shoulder squeezes, blush at Hoseok’s playful winks.

It’s a dangerous fantasy to indulge in, but…

“Jung-ah, did you change your hair? It’s gorgeous.”

She flushes at the compliment, the genuine tone of Joon’s voice. Joon’s own hair is still a sunkissed brown, so long now that she often ties it off with a ribbon into a lazy ponytail. For a while, Jungkook burned with gender envy, knowing it would take years and years for her hair to grow that long. But a quick text to a friend from uni and an obscure millennial cosmetics spell site helped speed that process up. It wasn’t nearly as long as Joon’s, but the feeling of it tickling her bare shoulders each night made something deep inside of her positively glow. “Thank you,” she murmurs shyly. Hearing Joon notice it and respond well to it ignites that euphoric spark again. “Wanted something different.”

Hoseok reaches a hand up to ruffle their own hair; loose coils springing back around their brow. “Don’t you get hot, ladies? I’m tempted to take a razor to mine and it’s not even past my ears!”

Jungkook can’t manage to suppress a snicker in time. “I’d pay to see that.”

Hoseok grins, but sends a wink Joon’s way. “Hmm... wifey doesn’t seem so convinced, huh? Don’t you think I’d suit the skinhead look?”

Joon tilts her head back to catch the last few rays of orange sun, shadows cast below her jaw. “It wouldn’t be my first choice. But confidence looks better on you than any hairstyle, sunshine.”

Hoseok beams at that, letting the conversation drop as if they never were that interested in shaving anyway. “I think I’m making progress with the vanilla, love.”

That gets a strong reaction from Joon, her dark brows arching gracefully. Jungkook’s interest is peaked, leaning forward so that she’s sitting right on the edge of the porch. “The vanilla?”

Like a proud mother, Joon puffs her chest. “It’s mostly grown in Madagascar these days, and it’s a notoriously fickle plant. The flower only blooms one day a year, and is fertile for only 12 hours. And often, they require human intervention to actually pollinate. Seok-ah here thinks they can get it blooming more often. Have you gotten it, sunshine?”

Hoseok shrugs away the attention humbly, though their eyes glitter with barely-restrained excitement, turning to them both. “For a while I thought my sunhands were my only gift, but I think I must have some type of connection with plants too. I’m really not sure, but I’ve gotten my vanilla crop to bloom three times this month alone! Only two of them produced decent pods, but it’s definitely progress.” Their eyes drop, mouth twisting in thought. “I wonder if I could speed up the fermentation process as well. It usually takes months, but I’ve grown whole trees faster than that. Who knows?”

Joon’s reply is interrupted by a low vibration rattling against the porch. Her smile slips in confusion, and drops entirely when she flips the phone and reads the screen. “It’s Tae.”

Hoseok sobers up too, worry and anxiety emanating off them like a cold tide. “Is something wrong?”

Joon doesn’t reply, brows furrowed as she types something back. Barely a moment later - though it feels much longer as Jungkook awkwardly sits, completely out of the loop - a text buzzes through again, and a surprised laugh comes from the back of Joon’s throat, her lips stretched in a smile. “He’s… he got the job in Osaka.”

Hoseok gasps and claps their hands together once, wiggling in their spot. “That’s incredible!” they begin, but before Joon has even replied to the text, a third is coming through. Hoseok basically jumps in the air, demanding for their wife to read the message aloud.

“Oh my goodness, Tae has a boyfriend, Seok-ah! Says he’s a chef at a Korean restaurant in the city centre.” Joon smiles fondly. “He’s doing well, sunshine.”

Hoseok mulls this over with a slightly put-out look. “Dammit, I didn’t even think of dating a chef.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I made that dipping sauce from scratch yesterday.”

Jungkook feels the banter whip back and forth on either side of her, impenetrable without the important context. “Who’s, um, who’s Tae?” she asks hesitantly, bracing for them to scold her prying.

Joon just smiles placidly, reaching back to lazily re-tye the peach ribbon that’s threatening to slip off. “He’s our ex.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Hoseok chides, “you know he doesn’t like to be called that.”

A sigh. “Tae’s our husband once-removed. Happy?”

“You… had a husband? Both of you, or?”

“What’s mine is hers, Jung-ah,” Hoseok coos happily, “we like to share. Tae was my… boyfriend, back in the day. We actually got hitched before I even met Joon. Young marriage, we were pretty dumb kids.” They shrug, the soothing cotton-soft acceptance filling the air around them, not a spike of negativity to be held. “He actually introduced us shortly after our honeymoon, and I fell for Joon straight away. I admitted my feelings to him, but he just started laughing. The two of them had briefly dated in high school. Small world, huh? We sort of fell into a trio after that.”

“It was unspoken, really,” Joon mumbles, her eyes in the far distance as blue twilight dims the sky. “It felt as natural as flowing water to us.”

“And then-” Hoseok breaks off roughly, and the air tightens. “Tae went through some personal changes. Identity changes. We all tried making it work, we loved being three, being together, but it wasn’t right for him anymore. He ended up winning a scholarship to a very prestigious photography school in Tokyo, and we all knew that was what was best for him.” They fall silent for such a long time that Jungkook would almost think they were finished talking. But then, only just audible, they whisper. “I’m glad he’s doing well.”

Joon leans over to Jungkook, her sweet scent filling the narrow space between them. “Some of the art in the hallway is his if you want to look.”

Before Jungkook can reply - though her head is swimming with joonjoonjoon that she probably has no coherent comments anyway - Hoseok makes a strange strangled noise and gets up. “I’m so sorry,” they announce stiffly, “I think I left a light on in the glasshouse.”

Jungkook watches in confused silence as the warlock, still barefoot even in the cooling night air, marches swiftly across the field to the pitch-black glasshouse. Joon lets out a gentle sigh.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asks, voice almost cracking on the final word. “I shouldn’t have asked-”

“It’s okay,” Joon interrupts kindly, a warm hand placed on Jungkook’s knee. “It’s just… This is the first time we’ve had a third person in the house since Tae. I think Hoseok missed it.”

Jungkook bites on the inside of her cheek, feeling a chill run through her. “I can’t replace him, though. He sounds like a good guy.”

A considering hum resonates from Joon’s throat. “He is a good guy. But neither of us,” she gestures first at herself and then the shadowed silhouette of a head poking above some plants in the greenhouse, “are looking to replace him. In fact,” she admits with a rueful laugh, voice dropping to a low murmur, “I think the two of us are quite enamoured with you, Jung-ah.”

Joon’s hand on her knee burns through the thin cotton of her sundress, the tips just grazing bare skin. Jungkook swallows, feeling every beat of her heart thud at her ribs. “I like-” her voice rasps like sandpaper, throat dry. She clears it, swallowing thickly again. “I like when you say my name like that.”

She isn’t looking directly at Joon, but she still feels the broad smile. “It sounds pretty, don’t you think? It suits you.” Jungkook’s lips twitch; she ducks her head even as Joon leans closer. “You know, my parents wanted a son,” Joon explains softly. “They called me Namjoon. I always hated it. Felt like such a tomboy, the Nam was too mascule to me. So I dropped it. Still me, just… better. I know plenty of people change their names entirely, but you don’t have to. I think Hoseok would love to chat with you about stuff like that. I know I wouldn’t understand those feelings as much as they would.” Joon furrows her brows, looking embarrassed at her monologue. “I just want you to feel comfortable here.”

“I appreciate it,” Jungko- Jung-ah says immediately, glancing up to see Joon’s face light up. “I- I’m, um, enamoured with- with you too. With you two, too.” Coughing lightly to clear the awkward phrase hanging in the air, she drops her gaze again, but a single finger pauses her, hooked gently under her chin.

Slowly, Joon lifts Jung-ah’s jaw until their eyes meet. They’re somehow closer now, their breaths mingling hotly together between them. Jung-ah’s lips part, but no words come out.

This close, she can see the way a sheen of chapstick glints in the moonlight when Joon smiles. “Sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

Her stomach flips. She nods, not trusting her voice, and barely has a chance to flutter her eyes shut before a pressure lays across her lips. Joon kisses her slowly, so softly, like she might shatter in her hold.

The air has a chill to it now, but every point of contact feels hot like a furnace, and the keening, pleased energy that blooms from Joon keeps her warm. She lets it sink into her, wrap around her just as Joon’s soft palm encases her cheek, fingers playing with her hairline.

Joon’s lips taste like strawberry, but the real sweetness is her delicate movements, chaste but sensual, passionate but patient. Her thumb rubs slowly over Jung-ah’s cheekbone, giving her the strange feeling of swaying in the sea, entirely unmoored. She leans into it, diving deeper, feeling their noses bump.

Joon pulls away too soon, leaving Jung-ah with tingling lips and a dizzy mind. Her chapstick has all but rubbed off, but her lips are plumper and pinker than ever, pupils blown wide.

It takes a moment for the cloud to dissipate, but when it does, Jung-ah gasps weakly. “Oh my god, you’re married, what am I-”

“Ah, yes,” Joon remarks with a wry smile, “you’ll have to go and even the score now or I’m afraid Hoseok will be terribly disappointed.”

Jung-ah pauses, caught off-guard. “They won’t be...angry?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joon coos, “Seok-ah quizzed me for hours last night on the meanings of flowers so that they could grow you some. We’re poly, Jung-ah, you don’t have to stress. Besides,” she quips, inclining her head out towards the field, “it looks like they want to speak with you.”

Glancing in that direction, Jung-ah blinks when she sees the glasshouse, still in darkness, but with a warm yellow glow cast inside, the main door cracked open intentionally.

A fond energy smooths the air between them as Joon stands up off the porch and ruffles Jung-ah’s hair, mumbling a soft goodnight.

After listening to the door squeak open and closed again (she’d have to fix that tomorrow) Jung-ah has nothing left to do but make her way across the grassy plain toward the glasshouse.

The warm glow from inside had dimmed as the moonlight cast her surroundings in silver. Still, Jung-ah could see Hoseok’s silhouette clear as day as they paced back and forth amongst the various shadows of the plant life inside.

It doesn’t take long before her hands are brushing on the metal doorway, glancing inside. “Hoseok? Did you- are you-?”

“Come on in,” the warlock replies easily. There’s a pleased glint in their eyes even as their curls hang heavy over their brow. Overdue for a haircut, though Jung-ah couldn’t deny it made them look even more endearing. “Come here often?” they quip.

With a strange pang, Jung-ah realises this is the first time she’s stepping into the enclosed jungle. Hoseok spent time outside, Joon spent her days glued to her computer or a book upstairs, and Jung-ah wandered around the house with an ever-changing list of ‘Ideas’: to-do jobs that the homeowners were too polite to frame as compulsory. She never really ventured beyond the garden beds for the occasional herb to use. “First time,” she admits with an uneven tone.

Hoseok’s eyes wander, widening. “It is too,” they agree easily, unruffled. “Well, I’m very glad you came. I don’t blame you for sticking indoors. Joon’s far more interesting than me and my leaves.” They reach out and flick at a plant lazily, though Jung-ah doesn’t miss the gentle care in the touch.

“I think you’re fascinating,” she rebuts instead, “I just never wanted to bother you. But it’s… These plants, Hoseok, they’re beautiful.”

A proud beam highlights a smear of dirt on Hoseok’s chin, and Jung-ah resists the urge to reach up and dust it off. Instead, she follows riveted as Hoseok leads her around the deceptively large greenhouse.

“This is where I keep the rarer things. Or, I suppose, the more fickle ones,” they begin, trailing a path along a metal-framed shelf to their left with a single fingertip. “The tahina spectabilis here normally only lives until 50 in Madagascar,” Hoseok explains, and Jung-ah cranes her neck to glance up a trunk, looking much like a simple palm tree. Hoseok’s voice is soft, like they’re in a library, or a place to pay respects. “The tree will flower at fifty years old, and the process is so taxing that it actually dies. This one was passed down through my family’s ancestors, all elementals. It’s over two hundred.”

“Oh, wow,” Jung-ah murmurs without thinking, though she can’t help but view the sturdy trunk and flax-like leaves with a new admiration. “Your ancestors were all interested in nature like you?”

“Absolutely,” Hoseok remarks with a mysterious humour clouding their tone. “I bet yours were, too. Magical folk descend from gatherers and healers right back in the prehistoric age. I bet you would’ve been the healer to my gatherer, Jungkook.”

She swallows, watching the lines of Hoseok’s back move gracefully with every careful step through the lush, almost overgrown glasshouse. “Jung-ah,” she corrects lightly. “It’s, um, it’s Jung-ah now.”

When Hoseok turns, it’s like their fantastical surroundings are cast to grey. All Jung-ah can see is their bright eyes, bold heart-shaped smile and puffed cheeks. She wills her heart to stop thudding in her chest so hard, letting the pleased hum of the plants around them settle her internal rhythms.

“Jung-ah,” Hoseok repeats, and the name sounds even lighter on their tongue. “I like that.”

“I like you,” Jung-ah states and immediately curses her loose lips, wincing harshly at the rich dirt beneath her feet.

A surprised chuckle tinkles the air. “How scandalous, when my wife is just next door!” Before Jung-ah can dissolve into a blabbering, apologetic panic, Hoseok’s hand is reaching into her line of vision, a playful tug on the collar of her shirt. “Good thing she feels the same way as I do,” they continue softly, not lowering their hand.

Jung-ah sucks in a breath, feeling their knuckles bump against her collarbone as her chest lifts. “What way?” she asks carefully, daring herself to look up only for Hoseok to be far closer than she remembered, hand warm and glowing slightly between the two of them.

Behind the earnest smile is a slight hesitation that Jung-ah feels more than sees. Hoseok’s voice is barely a whisper, but no other sound penetrates their green paradise. “I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up,” they confess, “and the last thing I see before I go to sleep. I want you to stay with us. I want to be yours, and you mine. That way.”

“Do you want to…” Jung-ah pauses, tongue wetting her lips unconsciously. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Hoseok’s smile grows, and the prodding hesitation disappears. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you ask that, hon.”

Their lips connect with no time for a reply. Jung-ah doesn’t mind though, letting herself melt into the kiss like there’s nothing else in the world. She feels Hoseok’s hands like twin suns, warmth running over her upper arms, her shoulders, catching gently on her jaw. And further, on a level so deep only she can feel it, those bright rays envelop her, Hoseok’s energy like pure joy. Jung-ah feels them smile into the kiss, lips slanting against hers and teeth bumping as they fail to suppress a grin.

When she finally has to pull away to suck in a breath, chest heaving, Hoseok is still beaming, their eyes dazed and hair rumpled. A strange light illuminates their chin and tip of their nose from below, and Jung-ah blinks in surprise as she sees Hoseok’s hands, completely alight up to their wrists with sunlight.

Catching Jung-ah’s gaze, Hoseok flushes, burying them in their overall pockets even as the light penetrates the heavy jean. “I know it’s bright, it’ll… it’ll settle down soon,” they promise, a sheepish smile puffing their cheeks. “I’m just really happy, Jung-ah.”

Jung-ah can’t help but return the smile. “Me too.”

~

Hoseok exhales dreamily as the sweet smell of strawberries fill the air. Not one for alcohol, they’d gotten Jung-ah to help make them some pink lemonade just the night before. Their wife hovers over the coffee table with the glass carafe, gripping it tight like it might wriggle out of her fingers at any moment.

One arm cradling several packets of snacks and the other holding a plate of slightly misshapen gimbap, Jung-ah makes her way between the two, settling the goods on the coffee table before slipping under Hoseok’s outstretched arm. The two curl up on the couch, Joon’s attempt at pouring the bubbly drink keeping them both amused.

“So nobody is going to help me?” she questions incredulously, grimacing as some of the lemonade doesn’t make it into the mugs she’s attempting to pour it into.

Hoseok’s fingers slip unconsciously under the hem of Jung-ah’s shirt sleeve, rubbing lightly at the skin there. “You’re doing splendid, love,” they assure earnestly. “The table was looking a little dehydrated.”

Joon lifts her jaw with a hard stare, but her lip quirks before she can help it. “I can’t believe this is my celebration party and I’m still the one doing this. I’ll remember this for your birthdays; just you wait.”

“Don’t worry,” Hoseok murmurs into Jung-ah’s ear with a lilting tone, “she always says that but I get breakfast in bed on my birthday every year. I love you, Joonie,” they call out in a singsong voice, reaching out to grab an outstretched mug with the hand not wrapped around Jung-ah’s shoulders.

Taking the other mug and watching the bubbles pop on the surface of the rosy liquid, Jung-ah sends Joon a warm smile. “I’m really proud of you, Joon,” she praises softly. “You worked hard, and the book is amazing.”

Joon raises a brow, taking a swig from the final mug and squeezing up on Jung-ah’s free side, neglecting the second empty couch in exchange for some closeness. “Have you read it?”

Jung-ah pauses, avoiding her gaze. “Seokie and I looked at all the pictures.”

Joon nods somberly, even as her eyes glint in bemusement. “The one thing I didn’t do.”

Hoseok’s hand reaches far enough past Jung-ah to just slightly brush at Joon’s cheek, the human pressing into the contact. “You’re far smarter than us, love. There were lots of very big words that we couldn’t quite understand but we’re proud of you nonetheless.”

Joon lets herself smile then, a warm one that crinkles her eyes and deepens her dimple. “I love you both too.”

Jung-ah flushes, feeling her toes curl at the sentiment, professing her own love for the two on either side of her before dipping her chin to sip at the lemonade. The sparkling water tickles the roof of her mouth, the lemon giving a bright tang, even as the strawberry infusion leaves a sweetness on her tongue long after she’s swallowed. It’s familiar to her, somehow.

As Joon leans onto Jung-ah’s side, beginning to explain to them the elaborate process of getting her third book published, Jung-ah takes another sip, swilling it in her mouth a little longer this time. It’s not until Hoseok’s getting up to pour them all a second glass, making the other two cackle as their hand is even shakier than Joon’s, that Jung-ah finally realises where she remembers that taste from.

It’s not a taste at all, but a feeling, an energy. Most of the senses her gift gave her were from other people, from plants, from wildlife. Very rarely were her own emotions strong enough to come back to her like mic feedback. But she recognised this one. Jung-ah was content.

[frutavel]

layin it on u: 19 for zantari, tau, corina, and tiger fern; 16 for lilibear, and 8 for gheist? go ham my dude

OHOHOHHO LETS GO UNDER THE CUT bc this got longer than I expected :3

19. If they had a theme song, what would it be?

Tari's theme song is Toes, by Glass Animals (my beloveds).

The rhythm, the build up, the lyrics... I said the other day that Your Love was the most Tari song ever, but I lied. This is THE Zantari experience

"I’m a man, don’t spin me a lie // Got toes and I can smile // I’m crooked but upright"

.

Urutau's theme song is Masquerade, by Lindsey Stirling.

This is a song without lyrics, so the choice is made purely on Vibes. And BOY are the vibes strong in this one - it's dramatic, it's intense, it's involving and it's a touch melancholic, everything Tau themself is.

Plus, a masquerade fits them quite well - under a carefully built confident and self assured mask, Tau is a mess... but at least they have a pretty mask, or so they tell themself.

.

Corina's theme song is the absolute banger that is Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance with Somebody.

Less the wanting someone part, though that also counts, much much more the energic and upbeat rhythm of the song and the happy warm feelings it gives me. Connie's is a huge romantic, and also incredibly warm and cheerful and full of life... she's my lil sunshine :)

"Oh, I wanna dance with somebody // I wanna feel the heat with somebody // Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody // With somebody who loves me"

.

Last but not least, Fern's theme song is I Got Love, by Mother Mother.

Fern is an odd case of someone who's alone.... but not lonely. They have no family to speak of, they've been facing the world alone for most of their life they went through a lot with no one else to fall back on, but they're not lonely. In fact, Tiger Fern is so incredibly at peace in their own body and their own company that sometimes it feels as though they need no one else.

Which is ironic, considering Fern is the most loving creature in the universe. He loves the world he lives in, loves the people that live in it, he loves the good and the bad and the beauty and the ugly alike. He's 9 feet tall of pure and shameless love, for themself and for everything around them. And I think that's beautiful :)

"So I rock my pain like a baby child // And I know that we'll be alright"

.

16. How do other characters in the story view them?

Okay now, Lilibear. There's many different bears out in the multiverse, but they all receive generally the same response from the people around her.

Boo is scary. She's too big and she smiles too wide with teeth that are too sharp, she doesn't blink and she stares at people REALLY intensely. And to top it off she's outspoken and brash and she's imposing, she's a presence that makes herself known and impossible to ignore. Plus, she's not "normal". No matter the universe, Lilibear is not standard anything.

In summary, Lilibear is unsettling. And that doesn't exactly lessen when you get to know her, but it sure is something you can get used to of you spend enough time around her.

And if you do, you'll learn that Lilibear is incredibly passionate, determined, confident and patient. Qualities that she's more than willing to use to guide others, if they ask for it nicely.

And that earnestness to help usually knocks some scary points off her chart.

8. What is their coping mechanism?

Gheist used to drink pretty often, which was eventually cut off by the joint effort of Tari, Caiena (my Revantusk priest whom Gheist grew uo with). Nowadays he tries to be a little gentler with himself when he's having bad days, so he tries his hardest to avoid things that could hurt him or make hims sick... and because that used to be all his old coping mehtods, he currently doesn't have a set one. He's tried a handful of different things before, some helped more than others but he hasn't found one that really stuck yet. Currently he's been trying journaling and it's been a mostly postive thing - it's not perfect, but he's willing to try.

[tessaliagrey]

Day 7 - Free Day

Summary: A family visit.

Author’s notes:

Okay, you guys (may) know I’m a sucker for BoFenn. I mean, yeah, I know, we see them together in only two episodes of Rebels, but I mean, come on! They just have that “I made heart eyes at her/ at him when I was younger” dynamic. To me, it feels like they have met before, most likely during the Mandalorian Civil War when they were much younger and maybe again during Bo’s regency. The fighting scenes in those episodes look like they have fought side by side before. And the way they talk together about Sabine; they are no strangers. Face it, they have potential ;-P

I like the fact that in order to save Satine, Korkie teams up with Bo-Katan. It’s like “Let’s break Auntie Satine out of prison – again – but this time, we’re gonna bring guns”. To me, Korkie feels like someone who knows that violence is always the worst answer and who will always try to find a better solution to a problem. But he’s no one to just sit there and watch things go overboard. He will take action if needed. I like the idea that he is kind of a middle ground between Satine and Bo-Katan.

This is written from Fenn’s POV.

I wrote this in one sitting tonight because I didn’t have anything for today until today, so be merciful with your judgement 🥰

Tagging: @bokatanweek

This is quite long, so maybe its more confortable to read it on AO 3.

07 - Free Day

It wasn’t the first time that Fenn had been to Evaar’la Yaim, the colony of the New Mandalorian exiles. The place at the edge of the galaxy that Bo-Katan and Korkie had picked to hide the survivors of Maul’s and Death Watch’s coup on Mandalore and the subsequent rise of the Galactic Empire almost twenty years ago. Evaar’la Yaim was one of the best guarded secrets in the galaxy. A safe haven for those Maul and the Empire would rather see dead.

Bo-Katan had deemed it sensible after being made Mand’alor, that, as leader of the Protectors, Fenn should know about this place. Just in case.

This time, it wasn’t a visit out of necessity, but for joyful reasons. Korkie’s wife had given birth to their fifth child a few weeks ago, and now Bo-Katan had finally found the time for a short visit. Two nights was all they could spare; Mandalore demanded Bo-Katan’s full attention.

Fenn walked out of their ship and onto the grass-covered clearing they had landed in. He had taken his armor off and just wore some gray pants and a black shirt. Though Korkie seemed to have no problem with his aunt being a warrior and wearing armor, others on this planet would always frown upon it. Korkie and Bo-Katan had deemed it sensible that for the durations of her short visits, she’d forgo the armor. And since he accompanied her, Fenn followed suit.

The planet Bo-Katan and Korkie had picked was a mixture of everything. Woods, lakes, mountains, plains,… You name it. It must have been inhabited at one point by others; ruins of a different civilization dotted the planet’s surface all over the northern hemisphere. The people, however, must have been long gone.

The Mandalorians in exile had taken the ruins of the larger settlements and used them as a base for their own permanent settlements. Bo-Katan had explained to Fenn that in the beginning, all it was were tents and mobile command units. There was nothing else left. The rebuilding of the ruined settlements had taken time, but by now, they were viable towns, if not small cities. The planet had gone from dependent on supplies from outside to self-sustaining within just over a decade.

As Fenn walked out into the clearing, he saw that Bo-Katan was already waiting for him. Fenn had seen her out of armor more than once. Mostly in training gear when they sparred. But now and then… He was her Protector – the only Protector, for now – and as that, he was around her almost all the time. He’d had to go and wake her up on more than one occasion, and he was one of the very few who knew what clothes the Mand’alor slept in. Or how she looked with tousled hair. Or how beautiful her face was when she slept soundly.

Fenn sighed and reminded himself that he shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about his ruler. But he just couldn’t help it. Even now, with her wearing just standard black pants and a black tunic, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

At first, Fenn had thought it was just a crush. That she was ‘just his type’. But the better he got to know her, the more he fell for her. Now, a year later, he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t a crush. It was love. But still, she was the ruler, and he was her Protector. And that was all they could be.

###

They walked the short distance from the woods to the small city mostly in silence, enjoying the warm sun on their faces, the fragrant air blowing in a gentle breeze and the sound of small animals hidden in the undergrowth. This world was so different from the dust ball they called home.

After a few minutes, they came across one of the main roads and took it to get to the city’s main gate.

Other people were on the road, too. Some on foot like them, others in speeders or on speeder bikes. Someone was pulling a large, fruit-laden cart tied behind one of the domesticated larger local animals. Some people threw them sideway glances, others even ogled them openly. But most people just ignored them. And some very few even nodded their heads or smiled.

The first time Fenn had been here, Bo-Katan had warned him about all the different kinds of reactions her visits got. But that, given that she was partially responsible for Satine’s death, being largely ignored was probably the best she could hope for.

When they were finally in view of the main gate, Fenn heard a high-pitched squeal and saw a young girl break into a run in their direction.

“Aunt Bo!”, the girl yelled, making everybody around them watch and shake their heads.

Fenn was pretty sure the girl didn’t even notice. She didn’t even slow down much when she reached them, but threw herself into her great-aunt’s arms.

“Hey, Ca’tra,” Bo-Katan managed to say, despite her breath being knocked out of her. Fenn had to chuckle.

“I saw your ship!”, the girl explained excitedly. “Buir said I could go and pick you up at the gate.”

“Thank you, ad’ika,” Bo-Katan said smiling, detangling herself from her grandniece. She pointed at Fenn. “Do you remember Fenn?”

“Sure,” the girl said with a broad grin, waving.

“My lady,” Fenn said and bowed slightly, only to watch the girl role her eyes. He grinned.

The girl, Ca’tra, took Bo-Katan’s hand and started to pull her towards the city.

“Come on,” she said impatiently. “Dinner’s almost ready. And Ka’ra is like having a growth spurt, so if we’re not home on time, she’ll have eaten it all.”

And so, Bo-Katan let herself be pulled through the city gates by an eight-year-old, a big grin plastered on her face. Fenn followed smiling.

###

Like the first time he had been here about a year ago, Fenn marveled at the city the exiles had built. Or re-built, in a way. Everywhere, the old structures could still be seen. It was a symbiosis of old and new. Some houses had the ground floor made of the yellowish stones that all ruins here seemed to be made of, while the top floor was all dura- and transparisteel. Classical Mandalorian architecture, intertwined with the remnants of a lost civilization.

The city itself was positioned on top of a hill, and the three of them had to walk uphill to get closer to the city’s center. Bo-Katan and Ca’tra made easy conversation.

“How is everybody else?”, Bo-Katan wanted to know.

“Well, Elyria has been taking flying lessons, and I think she’s kind of good at it. Evy is kind of annoying right now. She’s like super giggly and she starts to think boys are cute.” The girl shook herself, like she couldn’t fathom how that could possibly be. Fenn raised his eyebrows, Bo-Katan snorted.

“And as I said, Ka’ra is having a growth spurt. I mean…How much food can possibly fit into a five-year-old? Apart from that, she’s as annoying as ever.”

“And your parents?” Fenn inquired.

“Tired,” Ca’tra said, grinning. “But that’s all Ijaat’s fault. She cries a lot.”

“She’s just a few weeks old,” Bo-Katan tries to reason.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Ca’tra answers with a sigh, and Bo-Katan affectionately ruffled the girl’s hair.

Fenn realized suddenly that the girls name, Ca’tra – Night Sky – was very apt. The girl had the pale Kryze skin, but dark brown hair and rosy cheeks like her mother. Her eyes were a deep blue, just like the night sky.

About halfway up the main street, they turned right, and the girl guided them through several smaller streets and alleys, before she stopped at a door that could have been any door in the city.

“Home sweet home,” Ca’tra said and punched in the key code that opened the door.

As the door slid open, the noise of several people talking all at once suddenly flooded out into the street.

“We’re here!” Ca’tra yelled into the hall. “Tell me you haven’t started dinner yet!”

Two other girls suddenly appeared. One about fifteen; tall, and with red-blonde hair and green eyes, she looked much like Bo-Katan, though her face looked more like her mother’s.

“Aunt Bo!” she said and embraced her aunt, though much gentler than her younger sister had.

“Hey, Elyria, how are you?” Bo-Katan asked, hugging her back in return.

“Good. There is-“

“Move over, I wanna say hello, too,” the other girl said, tugging at her older sister’s clothes.

Elyria let go and let her younger sister throw her arms around Bo-Katan’s middle. Apart from the blue eyes, this one – Ka’ra, Fenn remembered – looked like a miniature version of Bo-Katan. The same face, the same flaming red hair. Even the same freckles. Just the eyes were the pale bluish-gray eyes of her father.

“Come on,” Ka’ra said, tugging at Bo-Katan’s hand. “I’m starving.”

“So we heard,” Bo-Katan answered grinning.

The rest of the family was inside the large living area. Fenn liked the Kryze’s house. It felt…yaim’la. It was a place so full of life. A bit chaotic, a bit loud, and lots of love.

“Aunt Bo!” Korkie Kryze exclaimed as he walked over to hug is aunt.

In Fenn’s memory, Korkie Kryze was a lanky fourteen-year-old with a talent to attract trouble. And though he had seen the boy – no, the man – only a year ago, Fenn still hat trouble to reconcile the adult in front of him with his mental picture. Korkie Kryze was just a tat taller than his aunt, his hair blonde, and his eyes bright blue. And one point, he had grown a well-kept, close-cropped beard.

The biggest shock, however, was seeing Korkie’s second daughter. Evy Kryze was the spitting image of Duchess Satine in her early teens. The twelve-year-old just waved over from the table she helped setting.

Korkie’s wife was walking up and down in front a large window front, gently rocking a small infant in her arms. She smiled at them and came over.

“Sorry for the chaos,” she said, gesturing at the general surroundings. “You’d think that by kid number five, we’d get the hang of it…”

Bo-Katan waved her off. “Who cares?” she answered.

Before they got any further, Ka’ra yelled across the room. “Can we eat now?”

###

Dinner had been a joyful and delicious affair, and Fenn felt stuffed and content. He was now sitting on one of the comfortable couches next to Bo-Katan and had to take care not to doze off.

It would be all too easy. He was sitting on one of the sides, being pushed into the downy cushions. Bo-Katan was right next to him, being pushed into his side by Ca’tra, who was leaning into her. All Fenn would need to do was rest his head at the back of the couch and close his eyes.

It was slowly growing dark outside, and the younger children were yawning now and again, though they tried to hide it.

“All right, girls,” Korkie eventually said. “Time for bed.”

He was met with loud wailing from his daughters, but in the end, he managed to usher them all upstairs.

Bo-Katan now had a lot more room on the couch, but to Fenn’s great surprise, she didn’t really move. Korkie’s wife flopped down on next to them, the baby asleep in her arms.

“I though Ca’tra might have exaggerated when she said how much Ka’ra is eating right now,” Bo-Katan began. “But dang…that girl really is on a growth spurt, huh?”

“Oh, and you haven’t even seen the worst of it,” Soniee replied. “It’s moments like that I’m glad we don’t have any boys. I remember how Korkie and Amis used to eat at fourteen… Nothing was safe from them.”

“I bet,” Fenn answered, and the women chuckled.

“You were like that, too?” Soniee asked, looking at Fenn.

“You bet I was.”

Before their conversation could get anywhere near other topics, the noise level upstairs escalated again.

“Mom!” yelled one of the girls. “Can you come up?”

Soniee sighed.

“Here, can you take Ijaat for a second?” she asked Bo-Katan. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uhm, sure,” Bo-Katan answered, but Fenn thought he detected a hint of panic in her voice.

Soniee placed the infant in Bo-Katan’s arms and headed up the stairs.

Next to him, Fenn could feel Bo-Katan let out a long, low breath.

“You alright?” Fenn asked quietly.

“I’m always afraid I’ll break them,” Bo-Katan answered, an apologetic smile on her face. “I mean sure, I carried Korkie around as a baby, but that’s like almost forty years ago now. And Ursa used to shove baby Sabine into my arms on occasion. But it’s not like I got any real practice or experience.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Fenn answered. And he did. Both of them had no children of their own. And though Fenn knew that neither of them actively regretted not having children, it were moments like this that still made you think of the what ifs.

Fenn leaned in closer to get a better look at the small child. She looked so peaceful in her sleep.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Fenn says, though why he says it out loud, he doesn’t know.

“She is, isn’t she,” Bo-Katan agrees. Then she sighs. “I don’t think I could live here all the time,” she continues. “But it’s good to be here now and again. With family.”

Fenn nods. Family. His family used to be the Protectors on Concord Dawn. But now his family was gone.

Before Fenn could get melancholy, the child moved in Bo-Katan’s arms, giving off small noises.

“What do I do now?” Bo-Katan whispered.

“I have no idea,” Fenn whispered back, and they both quietly chuckled.

###

Fenn couldn’t sleep. He tried; he really did. But every time he closed his eyes, he could see his fellow Protectors being slaughtered by Saxon and his men.

So, he had gotten up as quietly as possible and was looking out of the window of the Kryze’s guest room.

The last time he and Bo-Katan had been here, they had separate rooms. But with the addition of Ijaat, only one guest room was left and he and Bo-Katan had to share. Not that Fenn minded. But he didn’t want to wake her, so he tried to pass the time by looking at the foreign sky.

But Fenn heard the rustling of sheets behind him and turned around. Bo-Katan was pushed up on one elbow, looking at him.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked.

Fenn shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” she assured him. “I…have trouble sleeping through some nights myself.”

Fenn nodded. He understood.

With no more need to be overly quiet, he went back to his bed and sat down at the edge of it.

“What do you dream of?” Bo-Katan asked him, sitting up herself.

“Concord Dawn,” Fenn answered.

Bo nodded. She didn’t really need any further explanation.

“And you?” he asked in return, though he wasn’t sure if she would answer.

“Satine.”

To Fenn’s great surprise, Bo-Katan got up and walked over to him, sitting back down right next to him on his bed.

“Do you think we’ll ever be free of our ghosts?” she asked, looking down at her hands in her lap.

“I don’t know,” Fenn answered honestly. “On the one hand, I wish they wouldn’t haunt me. But on the other, I don’t want to forget.”

Bo-Katan nods, and, to Fenn’s even greater surprise, she carefully leans her head against his shoulder.

###

The next day passes in a kind of blur. Maybe because all Fenn could think about was Bo-Katan’s head on his shoulder, and how, eventually, her fingers had laced with his. Fenn knew it had been for comfort, but poor mind had a hard time to leave it at that.

And even worse – or best of it all, depending how you looked at it – was that fact that at one point, they must have fallen asleep. In the same bed. Because when they’d woke up this morning, they had done so next to each other. They weren’t cuddled up, exactly. But still.

It was probably a good think it wasn’t a workday on this planet, as it meant that all the Kryzes were home and kept Fenn and Bo-Katan very much occupied.

As Ca’tra had already told them yesterday, Elyria had been taking flying lessons, and Bo-Katan had told her over breakfast that Fenn was – and those were her words – an extraordinary pilot. Fenn had felt himself blush like a schoolgirl. After that Elyria had talked him into letting her fly Bo-Katan’s kom’rk (with Bo-Katan’s permission, of course). And Fenn had to admit that girl had talent.

When they were done, the girl had headed off into town to meet friends, and Fenn had returned to the house. When he got back, only Korkie was home, carrying little Ijaat around.

“Where is everybody?” Fenn wondered.

“Grocery shopping,” Korkie answered. “How was flying.”

“Elyira is very talented,” Fenn answered. “It comes to her very naturally.”

Korkie nodded, a proud look on his face. But Fenn thought he also detected a hint of worry.

“Something on your mind?” Fenn asked, deciding that in his experience with Kryze’s, it sometimes paid off to be blunt.

Korkie grimaced.

“You know,” he began, “it’s easy for us grown-ups. We chose to live here. We chose to hide from the rest of the galaxy. The generation of our children, however, did not. They know there is a whole wide world out there. And eventually, they will want to see more of the galaxy than Evaar’la Yaim, beautiful as it may be.”

Fenn nodded. Then he had to grin.

“Five more Kryze women running around the galaxy…”

“Oh stars,” Korkie groaned, but then laughed.

###

Fenn felt almost a little wistful that their time on Evaar’la Yaim was coming to an end. They would be leaving tomorrow morning after breakfast.

Tonight, there was a small festival all around the central town square, and the girls had talked everyone into going. Bo-Katan had objected that a lot of people might not feel comfortable with her being there, but the girls had just told her that other people were free to go home if it bothered them.

Fenn was glad they had gone. It was a beautiful summer evening; warm, with a soft breeze. And the town square looked amazing. Lights were strung up around and above it, and groups of chairs and tables were placed everywhere. Street vendors were selling food and drink. Music was playing and people were dancing in the square below the lights.

The girls were running around here and there, talking to friends, but regularly coming back to their table to spend time with their great-aunt. Who knew when they would see each other the next time?

The adults had gone from water to wine and from dinner to desert. Fenn watched Bo-Katan try some uj cake. She took a bite and closed her eyes.

“Oh stars,” she muttered with a full mouth. “This is so good.”

Korkie snorted. “Of course, it is. This may not be Mandalore, but we are Mandalorians. Of course, we know how to make damn good uj cake.”

“Stars, Fenn, you gotta try this,” Bo-Katan said, and pushed her plate toward him.

Fenn obligingly broke off a piece and put it in his mouth. Dang, it was good.

The evening passed into night and if it were for Fenn, it might never end. Bo-Katan was sitting close to him, and at some point, she had put her head on his shoulder again. Fenn wasn’t even sure if she had noticed. He didn’t mind. Everybody else at the table had most definitely noticed but had the good sense not to say anything.

But it was getting late, and Ka’ra and Ca’tra had a hard time keeping their eyes open, and so they eventually headed back to the house.

###

Back in their guestroom, Bo-Katan leaned against the door of the ‘fresher and Fenn had a hard time keeping his eyes off her. She was wearing what she always wore at night. Comfortable pants and a tank top. But stars, she looked good in that.

Fenn cleared his throat. “I think your worries about other people’s reactions tonight were mostly unfounded,” he said.

Bo-Katan raised an eyebrow, but then smiled. “Yeah, I think after twenty years they trust me enough to not ruing their evening by blowing the place up.”

“Imagine how it’ll be in another twenty years.”

Bo-Katan grinned. “In twenty years, I might even dance and nobody will take any special notice of it.”

“Don’t you always say that you don’t dance?” Fenn wonders.

“True,” she admits. “But I will make an exception in twenty years jus to see their faces.”

Fenn snorted. “Maybe you should practice before that.”

“Ey, I said I don’t dance, not that I can’t dance,” Bo-Katan said. “I was raised at court.”

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the uj cake, and maybe it was the lingering feeling of Bo-Katan’s head against his shoulder that inspired Fenn to make a bold move. He got up and held his hand out.

“Prove it,” he said.

“What?”

“That you can dance. Prove it. Take my hand and dance with me.”

For a fleeting second, Bo-Katan looked surprised. But then, she pushed herself off the doorframe, and walked over to Fenn.

“One dance, Protector,” she said.

“Yes, my lady.”

And then, she was in his arms, so damnably close that her scent filled his nose, and he felt the heat of her body radiate outward.

People never believed Fenn could dance, but his mother thought it important that he learned how to. And if it was just for this moment, where he danced with his Mand’alor in her nephew’s guest room. Danced with the woman he loved as moonlight filtered through the windows.

Fenn had no idea how long they danced. All he knew was that they moved closer and closer together until her body was flush against his and her head pillowed against his chest. Fenn was certain she could hear his heart hammering in his chest, pounding wildly against his ribs.

At one point, they stopped moving and Bo-Katan looked up at him. Stars, she was beautiful Her green eyes, her freckles, her lips. Damn, those lips. Fenn’s eyes lingered on them, watched how they parted and breathed out his name, and Fenn’s brain short-circuited. He leaned in and kissed her.

And to his great surprise – and great relief – she kissed him back.

[fellulahh]

Lucifer x MC x Satan Fic, Part 9/???

Read parts 1-8 here!

-

He was too proud to admit that Satan was right. Therefore, in a moment of adrenaline, Lucifer strode out of the room with one location in mind; MC’s room.

-

Knocking on the door, Lucifer waited patiently for MC to answer. “It’s open!” She called from the other side.

Stepping in, Lucifer surprised MC with his appearance. Her eyes widened slightly and her cheeks grew rosey as she set down her D.D.D to one side.

“Lucifer.” She breathed cautiously, “are you okay?”

“I was hoping we could talk, MC.” He spoke, not answering her question. Making his way over to her bed, he perched on the edge as she stared at him expectantly.

“I’m all ears...” she spoke quietly.

She bit her lip as she watched him. Despite their conversation in the kitchen the week prior, MC was still a little wary around him. Her heart still quickened just at the sight of Lucifer and she tried to stop herself from getting flustered. Deep down she was worried that he was capable of hurting her again.

“We need to talk about what happened in my study last week.” He insisted, “I’d like to take you out to discuss it.”

“Should I be worried?” MC joked, trying to put on a brave face as she was reminded of the rejection she felt that night.

“No, please don’t be.” He assured. “I think there are still things that have been left unsaid.”

‘What does that mean?’

“After all, you left before I could finish.” He breathed, unsure whether he should admit to that or not.

Did he really have anything else to say? His thoughts were in such a conflict that night - and still are - would he really have been able to conjure anything else other than his cowardly rejection?

“What do you propose?” She asked him with a glint of hope in her eyes.

Lucifer’s face softened as he gazed at her. His eyebrows furrowed as his troubled mind was suddenly clouded with her angelic face. How was he supposed to convince himself that he wasn’t straight up in love with MC when she was looking at him like that?

“Perhaps if you are free now you’d join me for a walk around Devildom?” He offered.

MC at first was hesitant to begin with but she needed closure from that night. Plus with Lucifer looking so gentle, there was no way she could resist him. “I suppose I can free up my afternoon.” She smiled sweetly.

Lucifer showed a rare blush as his heart felt relieved by her words but his mind soon diminished those feelings; shaking them off like they were nothing.

“Good.” He smiled, standing up from the bed to offer her his hand, “we better go now before it gets cold.”

“Lucifer, we’re in hell. Surely it never gets cold here?” She laughed, accepting his hand.

Their touch made both of their bodies tingle. Lucifer let out a quick breath as MC placed her small fingers in his palm. For a moment he just stared down at their hands before leading her out of the room.

“So do you know where you may me taking me exactly?” MC asked curiously as they descended the staircase.

“I have a place in mind - I reckon you will like it.” He informed her, “do you remember when you once told me about that holiday you went on with your family when you were younger? And that while lost, you discovered this beautiful lookout that allowed you to see for miles?”

“You remember me telling you that?” MC asked amazed. It’d been months since she’d told him about it - it wasn’t even a serious conversation, she only casually mentioned it at the time.

“Of course.” Lucifer nodded, “you told me it was your favourite part of the trip.”

MC was left in silence as she was unable to believe the tiny things he remembered about her.

“So as I was saying, I thought that perhaps I could take you somewhere that may allow you to relive that memory.” He spoke softly as they left the house. “It may not be quite the same but I can tell you the view is pretty spectacular.”

Intrigued, MC let a small sheepish smile appear on her face. “Okay...” she spoke slowly.

As they began to leave the grounds of the house, she slowly let down her walls that she’d built up around her heart. Satan’s words from their day spent together repeated in her mind.

‘I want you to be careful around him.’

Would Satan really say such a thing if he wasn’t sure if Lucifer was capable of hurting her? Admittedly, the eldest brother was acting a lot gentler toward MC. Perhaps there was more to be said that night she confessed her love for him.

Wanting to make the most of their alone time, MC slowly plucked up some courage. “So what else do you know about me?” She asked him curiously, “what other things have you remembered?”

“Remembered or noticed about you?” He asked casually as they strolled down the path.

“...noticed.” She answered, wondering what he may come out with.

As he pondered, Lucifer let out a small chuckle. “You always bite your pen when you’re trying to concentrate on your work.” He spoke, “in fact, I had once considered buying you a rather luxurious fountain pen like mine but thought it’d be best not to after noticing your ink stained lips one day.”

“You saw that?!” MC asked completely embarrassed causing Lucifer to laugh. She thought she’d gotten away with the time her pen actually leaked into her mouth from where she’d chewed it too much.

“How could I not? You ran past me in the hallway when you were heading to the bathroom to wash it off.” He smirked.

‘You idiot!’ She seethed to herself.

“I’m beginning to regret asking my question.” She half laughed, mortified by where their conversation had gone.

“I thought it was sweet.” Lucifer confessed, showing his softer side, “it’s the small quirks like that which draw me to you.”

Turning her head to see his face, MC watched Lucifer with parted lips. After realising what he’d said, he quickly cleared his throat. “What else is there...” He changed the subject as he thought, “I notice that you like to use blue nail polish.” He mentioned, “and sing to yourself as you get ready in the morning - and before you ask: yes I have heard you while walking past your door. You’re not exactly quiet.”

“Do you notice anything good about me?” She asked, blushing at the fact that not only has he seen her be clumsy while practically eating pens, but has also witnessed the mini concerts she puts on in her bedroom while getting ready every day.

“I never said the singing was bad.” He stated, “in fact it’s my favourite part of the day. I’m glad your room is next to the kitchen - it means I get to hear it every morning.”

The more and more he spoke, the more conflicted her heart became. Why did he care to notice all of these tiny details about her?

Beginning to ascend the incline in the path, MC sighed. “Perhaps we should talk about the reason we came on this walk. You said so yourself that there was more that needed to be said that night in your study.”

Lucifer was disappointed that their pleasant conversation had come to an end but knew that at some point ‘that night’ was going to be brought up. He just hoped it would have happened later.

Sighing, he glanced her way. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” He spoke quietly.

“You don’t need to apologise. It’s not your fault if you don’t feel the same way...” She breathed, not wanting to think about it too much.

“That’s the thing...you left before I could say anything else.” He breathed as they reached the lookout. “I...” he hesitated, “I wasn’t expecting you to admit what you said to me - it caught me by surprise. At first I wasn’t sure how to react which is why I said what I did.”

MC was silent as their steps slowed down.

“I meant it the other day when I said I care deeply about you.” He spoke softly as they stopped at the edge of the small cliff they were on. “I also don’t want you to regret telling me you love me.”

“Why?” MC asked cautiously, eyeing him up.

Letting his heart speak for him, Lucifer lifted a gloved hand and caressed her warm cheek. A soft smile crossed his face as he gazed at her. “What do you think of the view?” He asked, ignoring her question.

Glancing over her shoulder, MC finally took notice of their surroundings after spending the whole time with her eyes on Lucifer. Completely forgetting about their conversation, her eyes widened and a small gasp escaped her lips as she turned to admire everything. “Oh my goodness...” she whispered.

She could see all of Devildom from where they stood. Diavolo’s palace had never seemed so small as she gawped at it in the distance.

“I thought you’d like it.” Lucifer chuckled at her reaction.

MC didn’t say anything; she was too lost in the view. Feeling his heartbeat begin to quicken, Lucifer licked his lips as he gazed at her. With a blush on his cheeks, one of his hands carefully moved to his side; brushing his fingers against MC’s.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt his touch. With blushing cheeks, MC couldn’t help but smile after Lucifer slid his fingers between hers; holding her hand gently.

-

Is Lucifer beginning to accept his feelings for MC after fearing Satan was trying to take her away?

How will Satan react? Will he swoop in?

All will be revealed!