#similarly if any of you have things you really want to explore with your muses

[revengesworn]

okay i am making a wishlist of ideal mikey threads for Reasons

-i already mentioned this one recently, but members in toman learning about the things mikey's been hiding. generally cracking him open like a walnut, etc. preferably with lots of emotional vulnerability from mikey's side

- similarly to the above, threads set in the final arc timeline with members of toman. like that specific time period where mikey's trying to make everyone hate him, and they don't know wtf he's doing. nice.

- something related to mikey's frustrations with his lack of agency & feeling useless/a burden due to the dark impulses and being unable to help his friends??this would work well with a takemichi who he could openly discuss things with, but i'd be interested to see how it could work with other characters too. i don't have ideas for that yet unfortunately tho

okay i don't know why tumblr suddenly insisted on adding bullet points but. sanzu and mikey threads!! especially where sanzu knows exactly what's going on with mikey but mikey himself doesn't. i love that shit.

the problem with a lot of these is that they require specific characters to work, so i also want to think of ideas that aren't centered on toman. maybe something with post-canon mikey using his knowledge from the future to understand someone in a way they wouldn't expect?? or maybe... him being forced to go to someone for help with something?? idk. i'll update this post with more non-toman threads in a bit, i think...

but if anyone is interested in plotting any of these ideas out with me, please like this post and i will shimmy into your dms like. so fast. aksfhjdnfkjd >:)

#ooc #similarly if any of you have things you really want to explore with your muses #pleaseeeeeeeeee throw ideas at me i would love it!! #<3 #wishlist. #reading these again; a lot of them focus on the more supernatural aspects of tr #which doesn't surprise me but i'd also love like... #mikey talking about his more non-supernatural traumas too. or something in between; where he's talking about how easy it is to give in #to the curse because of his own beliefs about weakness and his own traumas/depression/grief and how they impact him #getting him to actually open up to someone would be a nightmare; but. #anyway. send post lmao

[colormepurplex2]

Flowers of Fate | Lavender & Thyme

↳ UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) ⤜ Strangers to Bonded Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 20,683 ⚠️ Adult humor, crass language, talk of murdered loved ones, angst, hurt feelings, vaginal sex, cum eating, body exploration, awkward yet endearingly cute sexual moments, jealousy, blood, stab wounds Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to series masterlist

The man looming over you narrows his eyes before he flicks them up to JK, who looks smug behind you. “They are supposed to be willing. This does not look willing to me. The bitter stink of her fear is burning my nose.” His nose wrinkles as if to accentuate his observation. “Can you not smell it? And…is that,” he sniffs the air, “the loch I also smell? What the hell happened?”

JK shifts his feet and clears his throat. “She may have had a slight incident going through the gateway. And, of course I can smell the fear. But what would you have had me do differently? She was unprotected, the first we’ve encountered in nearly a decade. I did what I had to.”

That makes the man’s eyebrows rise, and his eyes fall back down to you. “Unprotected? Is that so?”

“More or less,” JK mumbles.

“And that means?” The question comes from a man that steps around the side of the one in front of you. “That sounds a lot like loophole shenanigans to me.” He is pretty, with sandy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and ears pointed similarly to the man now glaring down at you. 

“Well, Joon, it means when I first arrived at the gathering, not a soul was without protection. Then, suddenly, she lit up like a dry stick of tinder, and I did the only thing I could think to do…I took her.” His placating shifts from the man he called Joon back to the one standing before you. “We’re losing time, Yoons. We can’t keep waiting around as we have been with our thumbs up our asses. This was the break we needed, don’t sneer at me over something I’ve done for you.”

The man clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Seven Hells. I hate that you are right.” Suddenly he’s in your face, crouched down with an elbow resting on a knee. He tilts his head slowly from side to side, those faceted green eyes roving over your face. “What is your name?” he finally asks, a long, slender finger lightly tapping your chin.

You jerk back, appalled. “Oh, fuck you, man! I’m not giving you my name! I’m not stupid. I just want to go home.”

“You’re stupid enough to get snatched up by a Fey,” JK snarks softly.

The man standing behind Yoons slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Do be fair, JK. It is not like the poor girl really knew what was happening. It seems she may have become a victim of vandalism,” he muses, the words slightly muffled behind his hand. He steps forward and fingers a yellow petal from your wet hair. “Honey bell petals.”

JK snatches the petal from the man’s fingers. “Fuck,” he curses. “I saw the damaged crown, but I didn’t see any honey bells. Well, she was unprotected when I approached her. That’s what matters, right?”

“Mmm, technicalities,” Yoons scoffs, swatting JK’s hand, making the petal flutter down and land in your lap.

You pick up the tiny, crumpled, yellow petal. “This is why I’m here? Because my God damn flower crown got destroyed?” you ask, incredulously. The petal turns a dark ocher color as you roll and mash it between your fingers in anger. “Monica, you fucking drunk asshole with your flailing hands.”

“JK does have a point, though, Yoons. You are running out of time, and beggars cannot really be choosers. Sure, she is maybe not…ideal, but she will provide you with what you need.” For some reason, your hackles rise at the idea that you’re apparently not ideal for whatever it is they seemingly need you for.  

Yoons straightens and brushes his hands along the front of his shirt as if absently ridding himself of the slight touch he exchanged with you. “Yes, so it may seem. Well—,“ he glances at JK before continuing, “—Beautiful, it seems that either way you look at it, you are stuck here for the time being, and I do, indeed, have need of a human mate. Perhaps, we can come to some sort of…uh, agreement?”

All the warnings your grandpa ever gave you about making deals with the fae come crashing down on you all at once. “An agreement? You want me to make a deal with you, a supposed fae? Do I have ‘fool’ written on my forehead or something? Absolutely not!”

You scramble to your feet, backing up and putting as much distance as you can between you and the formidable forms standing around you. It’s a shorter gap than you’d like as your back bumps into the now-shut wooden door JK hauled you through. A cursory glance around shows a small open space serving as a kitchen, dining area, and living space. There are two doorways on the backside of the space, the doors slightly ajar, but the rooms beyond are too dark to discern.

“If you could just listen to my proposal, you may find yourself a bit more amicable to agreeing,” Yoons explains softly, gesturing behind him to the wooden dining table with benches to either side. “Please, sit and let me explain as much as I can. If you do not like what I have to say, then you will be free to walk back out that door, and we will not follow—”

“Yoon—!”

Yoons holds up a hand, silencing whatever protest JK is about to spew. “You have my word,” he says to you, slowly and deliberately. His eyes are wide and sincere, even though they’re still quite jarring to look at. They glimmer in the light emanating from the few wall sconces and the fire humming in the hearth across the room, the green shifting to soft gold and back again.

“The fae can’t lie, right?”

Yoons’ lips twitch, the corner tugging up into a slight smile. “Right.”

You sigh. “Even if you could lie, you probably wouldn’t admit it. God, maybe I really am a fool. Okay, okay, I’ll hear you out, but just so you know, I’m about two-point-five seconds away from just running out that door and never looking back.”

“Right back to the kelpies,” JK mutters. You catch Yoons giving him a stern look that makes him drop his eyes to the floor and take up a guarded position by the door, his hands behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart.

“Despite his seemingly irresistible need to be so harsh with his words, JK does present another point to consider. Outside of this home and the clearing it sits in, you would be at the mercy of the creatures and beings of the Hollow Lands. Though we are closer to the Seelie Court, perhaps if you choose the right direction to run in…” he trails off, rolling his lips between his teeth. You can see how his prominent canines stretch the fullness of his upper lip.

The other man, Joon, gives you a gentile smile and gestures to one of the benches. “Please, have a seat. Oh! You must be freezing,” he titters, moving across to a large woven basket beside the fireplace. “Here.” He grabs out a large, thick woolen blanket and promptly drapes it over your shoulders. “If you decide to stay here, I am sure I can rustle up some garments that will fit you while yours dry properly.”

“Thank you, my friend,” Yoons places a hand on Joon’s arm as he passes by, heading toward the sink in the kitchen area. “My thoughts are scattered. I am grateful for your courtesy.” Those flickering green eyes shift to you, and you can see Yoons’ shoulders sag a little as he sighs. “Apologies, truly. I am normally not so…lacking in hospitality.”

Yoons takes a deep breath and settles on the bench across the table from you. The wood is smooth, dark with age, and worn from use. A steaming pot of what smells like lavender and thyme tea and empty teacups are set on the table between you by Joon. “Lemon sugar and sweet honeysuckle cream if you want it,” he says softly, placing small lidded ramekins and a tiny wooden spoon beside the pot.

You eye the steaming pot of tea, tempted but shake your head, keeping your hands fisting into the soft woolen fabric of the blanket instead. “If you are worried about accepting food from a Fey, thinking it will leave you ensorcelled or trapped here forever, you need not worry about that with Joon. He is not a Greater Fey. He does not possess the ability to entrap a human with his food or drink,” Yoons explains, helping himself to a cup of steaming tea. The fragrant brew is a light plum color, deepening as he adds a spoonful of lemon sugar. “For the sake of transparency, JK is not a Greater Fey either.”

“And you?” you ask when he doesn’t offer up that knowledge as well.

Yoons blows gently over the lip of his cup before taking a slow sip. The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace and the soft sound of Joon now kneading dough on the kitchen counter. “I…am,” he finally says, setting his cup back down and cupping his hands around it as if seeking its added warmth.

“What does that mean exactly?” you ask, tentatively, eyeing the steaming pot of tea again. Your throat is dry, and you are awfully cold, even with the wool blanket and heat coming from the fire. Can you trust his word?

Yoons shift uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes staring into yours as you assume he thinks of how to respond. Instead, though, Joon comments, glancing at you from over his shoulder. “He is right. I am a simple woodland nymph. I barely have the magick needed to encourage my garden to grow and protect my home, much less entrap a human here in the Fey Realm. JK is but a simple Seelie guard. His prowess is more related to the thickness of his muscles than the ability of his glamor.”

JK scoffs from his position by the door. “Yes, let’s tell the human everything.”

“Half-truths are not the way to receive her trust. You, better than anyone, should realize that after the foot you have started her off on,” Yoons admonishes JK, waving a stern but dismissive hand in the air.

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” you grumble, cutting your glance between Yoons and JK.

Yoons’ lips press firmly together before he gives you a slight nod. “Right, apologies again. It has been some time since we have had company other than those who know about this glade.”

“Let’s just get on with whatever this proposal is so I can decide whether or not I’m actually going fucking mental.” You finally relent and reach out to pour yourself a cup of tea, if only to have something to hold for extra warmth.

The lavender and thyme scent is comforting, reminding you of your grandpa. The heat and warmth suffusing through the porcelain cup seep into your hands, helping pull back a fraction of the chill from your tumble into the loch.

“I will try to speak as plainly as possible,” Yoons begins. “However, there are things that you still may not understand. For starters, it may be hard to believe, but you are indeed in the Hollow Lands, the expanse of land that sits between the Seelie and Unseelie courts. We are outside of your realm. JK brought you through…a portal of sorts—one that we have been using for centuries when the veil between our worlds is thin enough. You see, the myths and stories you may have heard all have at least a little truth about them. Do faeries kidnap humans? In a way, perhaps. Though, there are safeguards that humans have been using for just as long to make their desire and status known to the Fey. The honey bell flower is a ward, protecting any and all who wear a circle of it against the glamor of a Fey. Anyone not wearing a circlet of the honey bell is seen to be willing.”

“That doesn’t seem to make much of a difference, though, now does it?” you question.

Yoons sucks a breath between his teeth. “It does, but this seems like a very unusual situation we have all found ourselves in. You see, JK is sworn to me as a protector. He was acting on my behalf, trying to find the key I need in order to stop something bad from happening to my people.”

“That’s not cryptic at all,” you say, laying the sarcasm on as thick as you can. “I thought you were going to speak plainly?” You wet your lips with your tongue, so tempted to take just a tiny sip of the tea.

There is a momentary pause as Yoons takes another sip of his own tea. “I think this might be your best brew yet, Joon,” he murmurs softly. “Plain. Okay. I have been banished from the Unseelie Court. If I do not find a human mate before the next full moon, I will be permanently banned from crossing into the border of my home…locking away all of my people and my family in endless darkness with the one responsible for the turmoil that has befallen my court.”

“Why have you been banished? Banishment usually means you had to have done something to earn it. People don’t just get banished for no reason.” The last thing you want is to be fooled into thinking you are helping the good guy, only to find out later that he’s really the bad one.

Yoons shifts, again looking mildly uncomfortable by your question, which makes you glad you asked it. “It is believed that I killed my father and my brother.”

A chill slithers down the nape of your neck with that admission. “It is believed—believed but not true?”

“I would sooner take my own life than that of my kin. I loved my father dearly for what he did for our people; my brother was my best friend. I did not want nor seek their deaths.”

“What’s so important about the next full moon? Why is that significant?” Every piece of the puzzle he provides will help your decision-making. You just have to be sure to ask the right questions.

Tapping his fingers lightly against the outside of his cup, Yoons explains, “The longer a Fey is away from their origin of magick—for me, that would be the Unseelie Court Moon Stone—the less connected we are to it. It has been nearly a decade since I last was within the borders of my home, since I last felt the cooling mist of the lunar winds on my face. I can already feel how significantly depleted my magick is, how much weaker I grow by the day. If I do not secure a way to access the inner well of my power before the end of my tenth year away, I will lose touch with it completely. So, having a human mate is not only crucial to me being strong enough to defeat the one that started everything, but it also means I’ll retain my ability to touch magick at all.”

“What does a human mate have to do with any of that? How can that help? Couldn’t you bond with anyone?” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least somewhat intrigued now—if this is indeed the truth. The idea that you’re on a different plane of existence seems to be unquestionable at this point. How you’re not completely coming apart at the mental seams is beyond your understanding. There is a small glimmer inside, though, that you recognize as the same feeling you once got listening to your grandpa’s stories.

Yoons spreads his hands out in front of himself in a placating manner. “Everything. The reason there are tales of Fey taking humans is that they have taken willing participants as mates because humans can open the inner well of a Fey, unleashing their full potential of magick.”

“So, I woul— I mean, a human would allow you to access a secret well of power that’s just supposed to magically…what? Make the bad guy go away?” You hope they don’t read too much into your slip-up of words. It’s not like you’re actually considering his offer…whatever it is, as he still hasn’t truly laid that out yet.

He’s nodding before you finish asking. “Humans are like a conduit, an open channel for magick. They can amplify the strength of existing Fey magick and allow more to be harnessed safely. Having a human mate is the only way I can access enough of my power to save my people.”

“And you haven’t had any luck finding a human mate so far, so you send your muscle bunny over there to kidnap one for you?”

JK steps forward, intent to protest, but Yoons holds up a hand, silencing him. “Look, I know you did not come here of your own free will, and for that, I will forever apologize. But, I would be remiss to say I am not also grateful that you are here. Once, it may have been easy for my kind to come into your world and find someone willing. But, over time, the stories have changed how humans react and perceive our kind. In your stories, we are monsters, tricksters, and sly thieves. That is just a warped perception based on exaggerated presumptions. All I want is someone to help me save my people.”

“Say I do agree, then what? What will happen to me?” The tea in your cup ripples as you clench your hands around it in agitation. “You say I’m trapped here regardless. What happens if I say no? What madness awaits me out there?” You nod toward the door behind JK.

Joon turns from placing his dough into a deep pan, dusting his hands off on a blush-colored towel. “If I may?” Yoons gives him a slight nod. “Beyond my glade, await things that are far worse than being a mate to a Greater Fey. My magick is a ward, tethered to the soil where I plant my seeds. If you agree to stay and help Yoons, there is a chance you could see your world again…but if you leave here, that chance diminishes greatly. You would be lucky to make it to the Seelie Court, but even then, you would most likely end up as a captive rotting away the rest of your existence in the dungeons. The Fey take great care in choosing the outsiders they allow to walk freely within their courts. They would spend your entire human lifetime discussing what to do with you. Your bones would molder in the dark before they made up their minds.”

“I really am stuck here.” The resignation in your voice is apparent.

You see the moment Yoons thinks to reach across the table and console you. His hand lifts from where it’s resting on the wood, but he drops it back down and clenches his fingers instead. “Unfortunately, yes. At least, for the next six months or so, until the veil thins again and a gateway is accessible. As to what will happen to you if you agree to help me, well, you will become my mate. It is similar to what your kind calls marriage. There is a ceremony where we are bound and then a…um, consummation to solidify the link to my magick.”

Ignoring that blatant statement of having to have sex with this man, you ask another question, “Tell me more about your home and what’s going on with this supposed bad guy?”

Yoons’ face closes down, and he straightens his shoulders, hands dropping into his lap. “The male who murdered my father and brother, and holds my mother captive is using dark magick in order to steal and manipulate his way through my court. He has bewitched the whole of the Unseelie Court and uses his connection to the Seelie Court as a ruse. His ultimate goal is to see the end of my people and the absolute rule of Seelie. He thinks we are no better than a people to be enslaved, fodder for his kind to use as building blocks so they may reign supreme over all of this realm and the beings within it.”

“Do the Seelie support this? Why aren’t they doing something about it if they’re not in agreement? Are you fighting one man or an entire people? You make it seem like an impossible task.” You can’t help that some part of you feels sympathy for this man—faerie, whatever he is—despite your indignation over his methods of finding a solution.

JK harrumphs softly from the door. “It’s only impossible if you say no. The Seelie are just as much victims of this maddening farce as we are. The entirety of our realm, our world as we know it, is on the line and you can be the force to tip us one way or another. Look,” he sighs, taking a few steps forward from the door to stand beside the table, “I’ll be honest. It’s my fault you’re here. I didn’t realize you actually had a circle of honey bells on at some point. But, even if I had…I can’t say for certain I wouldn’t have still tried to bring you back with you being unprotected. Over the last decade, I have gone through the Carterhaugh gateway every chance I could. I have walked among the festivities, danced around the May-poles with oblivious humans, tried to ask for help, created friendships, anything I could think of that might allow me to do my job, but every time, it’s been the same. No one cares; no one believes me. They chalk it up to too much whisky or too many hours listening to childish fairy tales. It wasn’t until you that there was ever even a glimmer of hope for us.”

“Peace, JK,” Yoons murmurs. “It is the truth—The Seelie are victims in this. You see, the Fey responsible for all of this first came to the Unseelie Court as a liaison from the Seelie. It is no secret that though we are of the same people, we have conflicted against one another since the dawn of our time, at least until some fifty years ago. The Unseelie and Seelie Kings had enough. They were tired of seeing their people suffer. They came together to spark a truce. All conflict ceased, and trade began—bringing near-instant fruitfulness for both sides. The Hollow Lands remained neutral ground where markets were held at the beginning of each new moon phase, and things were going wonderfully. Then Chaddick, the Seelie Queen’s brother by marriage, came to the Unseelie Court to continue with the politics, and it has been darkness and decline ever since, beginning with his murder of the Unseelie King.”

“And you’re the only one that can save your people? Why you? Why your family? What exactly happened?” The more you learn, the harder it becomes to find a reason not to agree to help. It’s not like you have many other options. Perhaps if you decide to help, you can barter for your own help in return.

“As Greater Fey, we posed the biggest threat to thwarting his plans. I escaped, but only barely. I am the only remaining Greater Fey of the Unseelie Court who knows the truth and has the ability to do something about it. I represent the only hope there is.”

Silence settles between you and Yoons, his last words sinking in with a finality. You glance down at the cup nestled between your palms. As if without your permission, you bring it up and slowly press it to your lips. The slightly bitter and floral scent fills your lungs before sliding over your bottom lip and coating your tongue. It’s the tiniest sip, barely enough to wet your throat, but already you feel better—calmer. There is no apparent mindlessness, you’re not consumed with the desire to obey, and something inside you tells you that you know you could still leave if you wanted to.

“If I agree to help you—to become your mate…I want you to promise me that you’ll take me to a gateway and allow me to leave at the very next Samhain, unharmed, and with no strings attached.” The cup rattles gently against the tabletop as your trembling hands place it back down. “This is the only way I will agree to help you.” The words you choose are careful, constructed, and spoken in a way that is plain and concise, with no room for misinterpretation or fae foolery. “There will be absolutely no tricks, deceptions, or wayward attempts from you to keep me here. I want a guarantee that you will do all in your power to ensure I get back to my world in as much the same condition at which I left it as you can manage.”

Yoons studies you for a moment, his eyes unreadable as they flicker over your features. “I will agree to this…with one variable if you will. If I am able to free my people and see to it that Chaddick is no longer a threat, I will personally escort you to the Carterhaugh gateway come next Samhain and will allow you to leave with no further obligations. I, however, can not guarantee there will be no strings attached, per se. You see, becoming my mate would mean we are mated for all of our respective lifetimes. Being the mate to a Greater Fey, even living in your mortal realm, will mean you will still see the effects of our bond. Your life will become irrevocably longer. You will experience greater strength and stamina; you will, for all intents and purposes, be Fey yourself. Know that there is always a danger in being one of our kind living in your world. Even across the distance of parallel realms, we would still be aware of each other…the mate bond is an intimate one.”

Joon clears his throat before giving you a gentle smile. “I do know of a way to create an herbal suppressant, though. It will not completely blanket the bond, but it would ease the ache of separation. I could show you how to make it. Thankfully, all the herbs and spices you would need grow in your world, too.”

“The ache of separation?” you question, cocking an eyebrow at Yoons.

“As I said, I can not guarantee no strings. After many years apart, bonded mates may feel…ah, well, something akin to discomfort of the soul. A sadness that no amount of sun or sweets can remedy.” Yoons straights again in his seat, quickly bringing up his teacup to take another sip. “It is something I am willing to endure for the safety of my people. No pain could possibly compare to the pain I know in my heart currently.” His green eyes flash, hatred and malice darkening his features before he swipes his free hand over his face and sighs. “It has been a long day, longer for you, I am sure. If you would, Na—ahem, Joon, see to it that our guest has dry clothing and a place to rest. You may have an hour to rest and think about my offer.”

Pushing up from the table, Yoons places his cup back down and makes his way to the door you came in through. JK beats him to it, wrenching the knob and yanking it open. Yoons walks through the open door, JK disappearing behind it. The door thumps closed, sealing the interior of the small cottage in silence once more.

“Come, my dear, let’s get you more comfortable.” Joon gestures toward one of the doorways at the back of the room.

🌸🌸🌸

Yoongi

“This is a terrible idea. I swear, if you had wings…I. Would. Clip. Them,” Yoongi seethes, rounding on Jungkook, punctuating the last few words with sharp jabs to the center of his chest.

Jungkook swats Yoongi’s hand away, baring his teeth in turn. “The only terrible idea is you agreeing to let her return to her world in the end! You know the consequences of that. Are you really willing to accept an eternity of crippling pain for her?”

Yoongi sighs, turning away from Jungkook. His eyes fix on the large, green leaves of Namjoon’s seeded oak that are closer to the ground than they were yesterday, faintly twisting in the hazy breeze wafting from the west—the direction of the Seelie Court. The air holds a floral scent, one that Yoongi knows fondly.

“I do not think I have much of a choice, my friend,” he finally admits, resigned. “We need this to work. You have said so yourself that we are running out of time. The next full moon is just a few days away. If I cannot access the rest of my power by then, all will be lost, and you and I will never see the stars of the Unseelie Court again. It is a thought I can barely bring myself to contemplate. My mother…” Yoongi doesn’t have to finish his sentence. Jungkook knows exactly what would become of Yoongi’s mother—the woman that is just as much a mother to Jungkook—if all of this fails.

Jungkook closes the distance between himself and Yoongi. He hesitates, warring internally on whether or not he will be crossing a line, but finally places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi instantly tenses, making Jungkook flinch, but he keeps his hand where it is. “You know I would do anything for you. If there were even the slightest possibility that we could do this any other way, I’d dump her back in the loch myself in a heartbeat. Just know this, Yoongi, you have agreed to see that she returns to her world if she so wishes…but I have made no such promise.” Letting his hand slip from Yoongi’s shoulder, he huffs in irritation and disappears into Namjoon’s garden beyond the seeded oak. “I’ll gather some food for dinner.”

Yoongi watches Jungkook until he’s lost among the foliage. He knows agreeing to your terms was foolish. He just wasn’t sure what else he could have done to help convince you to agree. It took everything in Yoongi not to lunge across the table, grapple you to the floor, and use his magick to force you into submission. It would have been easy, a simple feat in just a matter of moments. But it would have been too risky.

There isn’t much known to him, personally, about the bond between a Fey and a human other than what his mother told him during his childhood. What he told you was mostly true, with perhaps a few omissions. It is true that the Fey took willing humans for their mated bonds, but that is such an archaic practice that Yoongi has never actually known a mated human-Fey pair. In all his years, it has only ever been Fey mated with Fey. It has been a very long time since a Fey needed access to their full power.

From what he knows, a mated bond can only work to its fullest potential with a willing human. Forcing a human into a mated bond has been known to have the opposite effect than desired. A Fey that takes an unwilling human will be tainted by the bond, their magick forever infused with darkness and pain. At least, that’s what the stories say. Yoongi entertained the idea in the beginning when he first escaped from Chaddick. Jungkook even captured a human man, hauling him back through the gateway just to have to take him back after Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to bond the man against his will. It’s been a very precarious line to walk ever since.

“A damned fool,” Yoongi whispers to himself before following Jungkook into the garden. He knows there is no use in arguing with Jungkook over his last declaration, so he will just have to tread carefully and hope you don’t catch wind of that revelation.

Namjoon’s garden is something of pride and bounty. Glowing, magick-infused spheres dot the meandering paths between beds of vegetables and fruits. Vines slither along runners of trellis, and branches ladened with juicy fruits dangle within easy reach at the end of each path. Everything in the garden, except for a few vegetables and herbs, is mortal. Just another precaution that Namjoon personally undertook to help Yoongi in this quest. Without the help of Jungkook and Namjoon, Yoongi knows he would never have had a chance.

“Do you think we should have asked if she has any allergies?” Jungkook muses as he digs up a cluster of red potatoes. “Maybe she only eats meat. I did find her by the grill pits. I have a few snares in the western glen that I can check.” He rattles off the different locations and how he’s learned the best runs to set up traps on, and how they change with the seasons.

Yoongi can’t help but smile as he listens to Jungkook. The youthful swagger left Jungkook’s step around the same time the roundness of his face did—when they escaped the Unseelie Court nearly a decade ago. Yoongi wonders if Jungkook mourns the playful nature that once possessed the guard as he does. Despite Yoongi’s status as a Greater Fey and Jungkook’s lack of, growing up together solidified their bond. The day Jungkook got down on his knees and swore himself in service of Yoongi only helped to strengthen it.

It’s on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue to talk about you, to muse along with Jungkook about what you do and don’t like. But, he holds back, choosing a different thought to voice aloud, lest he somehow gives himself some odd sense of false hope by letting you linger too long in his conscious thoughts. “I think Namjoon, at least, would appreciate some meat to add to the stew.” Yoongi moves to grab one of the harvest baskets Namjoon keeps in the garden, depositing the vegetables and fruits he chose. “I will take these inside and help Namjoon begin dinner if you want to check your snares.”

“Sure,” Jungkook agrees, depositing his own armful of goods into the basket. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

Yoongi makes his way out of the garden, parting ways with Jungkook at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. Pausing at the top of the stairs, Yoongi takes a moment to look east, toward the Unseelie Court. For all the years he’s been in hiding, the constant drive to return home hasn’t lessened in the slightest. He can feel the longing deep in his heart and soul, his magick calling out to be within the barrier of his home. Perhaps, he’ll be returning there sooner than he imagined. Hopefully.

He hefts the basket onto his hip, freeing one of his hands to open the door. It swings open slowly, revealing Namjoon tending to a boiling pot over the fire. The welcoming smell of baking bread fills the small space.

“Where is she?” he immediately asks when he realizes you’re nowhere to be seen. 

Namjoon smirks, his warm brown eyes twinkling in the light from the fire. “I offered her the courtesy of a warm bath. You are welcome to go in and check on her if you would like.” He nods toward the second door across the room, now firmly shut—a tiny sliver of light peeks from under it.

Yoongi scoffs. “You have a poor sense of humor.”

“Do not worry. I did not let your precious human mate escape. As much as I am of the middle ground, our friendship means more to me than neutrality,” Namjoon comments quietly. “After all, I have been harboring a pair of wanted Fey for nearly a decade now.”

It’s not a jab by any means; Yoongi knows that, but those words add a slight ache to the crushing weight already on his shoulders. Just a reminder of how important this all is. Yoongi and Jungkook aren’t the only ones that would be facing irrevocable consequences should this not succeed. Even though Namjoon has been able to hide Yoongi and Jungkook behind the ward of his magick here in the clearing, Namjoon’s magick has slowly been depleting. With each passing year, the ward weakens. The drooping branches of Namjoon’s seeded oak are proof enough of that. Whereas the tree once stood tall, proud, with limbs extended high into the air—they’re now far closer to the ground than the clouds, a very alarming reality.

Before he can reply to Namjoon, a thump followed by a muffled yelp has him dropping the harvest basket—sending fruit and vegetables scattering across the floor—and racing to the closed door. It swings open, the hinges squealing in protest of the force at which Yoongi opens it. “Are you okay?!” Yoongi exclaims, eyes wide on your naked form, bent over to retrieve the towel puddled on the floor by the sink.

“What the—close the fucking door!” you yell, snatching up the towel and trying to cover yourself.

Your words barely register before Yoongi lets out his own yell and scrambles to close the door. “Sorry! Sorry!” he yells through the now-closed door. “I heard you scream! Seven Hells consume me. I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

Your voice grows louder as you walk closer to the door. “I’m fine,” is your breathy reply. Yoongi can hear the barely concealed laughter in your words. “I missed the last step getting out of the bath and caught myself on the sink. The only thing wounded is my pride at this point.”

Yoongi jerks away from the door when he feels you opening it. He tries to look anywhere but at you when it slowly opens, revealing you now with the towel tucked under your arms. His traitorous eyes lock onto a water drop that slips down your neck and traces the curved mound of your breast before being absorbed by the towel. He clears his throat, taking another step back and forcing his eyes to the floor. “I—uh, that was—I am terribly sorry. I should have knocked or…”

You do laugh now. It’s a pretty sound, one that has Yoongi’s eyes flickering back up to take in the slight smile now curling your lips. You take a deep breath. Yoongi is proud of himself for refraining from watching the rise and fall of your towel when you do so. “Well, I guess that will help with the awkwardness of seeing me naked before we have to…you know.”

A choking sound echoes from across the room, Namjoon trying to suppress his own laughter. Yoongi’s brows bunch together as he frantically tries deciphering some hidden meaning behind your words. Because, surely, you don’t mean what he thinks you do. “Is that your way of saying yes?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he fights the need to heave air into his lungs for fear of breathing too loud and not hearing your response.

“Not how I intended to say it, but yeah…umm,” you pause, shifting awkwardly on your feet, wet your lips, and try again. “I mean—yes, it’s a yes. I’ll help you if you promise to help me return at the next Samhain.”

Yoongi can’t believe what he's hearing. He was sure he’d have to barter and spend several more hours trying to convince you, despite his earlier words of only giving you an hour to decide.

“Yes, yes, okay. Agreed.” Yoongi hesitates, wondering if he should let you get dressed. But decides he doesn’t want to give you any more time to possibly talk yourself out of the agreement. He steps toward you quickly, extending his right hand. “You have my word, I swear it. For your agreement to be my mate, I will do everything in my power to see to it that you return home at the next Samhain if that is your wish.”

Yoongi watches a myriad of emotions play out on your face as you stare at his long and slender fingers hanging in the air between you. He can see the moment you mentally leap over whatever last hurdle there was. You take a soft breath–that Yoongi allows himself to watch swell your chest this time–and slide your hand into his.

“It’s a dea—“ a loud yell outside the front door cuts off your words. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around yours, and he lets a trickle of his magick leech into you, cementing the agreement.

The smell of jasmine and chamomile floods the room as the front door is slammed open. That combined fragrance makes his heart ache, but not nearly as much as the look on the face of the figure now standing in the open doorway. He was so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized the scent in the air around the cabin had changed.

In strides a striking figure, regaling in beautiful blush-colored robes with silver accents. Jungkook follows quickly behind, a string of fuzzy hares tethered to his belt. “If you would just listen to me!” He stops in his tracks, eyes flicking from the newcomer to where you and Yoongi are standing across the room, hands still clasped together. “Ah, Seven Hells…you did it, didn’t you?”

Yoongi opens his mouth, intent to address the room, but a sharp hand is slashed in the air, cutting off anything he could possibly say in his own defense. “Sixty years,” whispers a voice Yoongi knows intimately. He is beautiful as always with his dark brown hair, the silky strands shifting to reveal his ears' soft, pointed tips. His plush lips help conceal the points of his canines, but as he speaks, they peek out. “Sixty years gone in an instant. I knew this day was coming. I knew it needed to come for the world to be right again…but I thought you would at least afford me the decency of allowing me to be here to help, to witness, to ensure you did not bind yourself to someone unworthy of the status of the bonded mate of a Fey Prince!” By the time he’s finished speaking, his voice has risen to a booming volume that fills the entire space.

“Mini.” Yoongi winces as Jimin sneers at his nickname—the name Yoongi has moaned into his ear many times over the last sixty years.

“Wait—a Prince? You’re a fae Prince! Oh, for fucks sake, what else are you keeping from me?!”

Tightening his grip around your hand, Yoongi prevents you from snatching your hand away in anger. He groans, tasting the sudden sour flare of betrayal coming from you. “Fuck.”

🌸🌸🌸

Yoons and the stranger, who you heard him call Mini, disappear out the door quickly after it’s revealed that Yoons is actually a fae Prince. He gave you a guarded look, dropped your hand, and stormed out the door with Mini hot on his heels. JK shut the door and has been standing with his back to it like a guarding sentinel ever since.

That was hours ago now, you’re sure. It’s hard to tell, considering what Joon explained about the passage of time in the fae realm. When he ushered you back into the lone bedroom, where he had clothes waiting for you laid out on the bed, you asked how long you had been there. He shrugged, explaining that time passes as it needs to based on the power demand of the sun and moon, but if he could guess, it would be nearing midday back in your world now, leaving you to balk at that realization as you got dressed.

Now, you sit cross-legged on an overstuffed pillow on the floor, elbow on your knee, and chin resting in your palm. You watch the fire crackle in the hearth. The stew Joon made with the vegetables and hares brought in earlier sits heavy in your belly. It was tasteless on your tongue, the flavors lost to your senses as you tried to come to terms with your situation.

You cringe at a loud curse from outside. It’s been a near-constant yelling match since the front door closed. The voices are muffled enough that you can’t make out every word, but it seems Yoons and Mini enjoy punctuating their sentences with very loud profanities.

Joon sighs from his spot in a rocking chair on the other side of the fire. He has a block of alder situated in his lap, shearing off small fluffs of wood with a tiny whittling knife. “I think this is the longest lover's quarrel they have ever had,” he murmurs, almost as if to himself.

“Lovers quarrel?” you question, glancing away from the fire and toward Joon.

“Oh,” Joon laughs awkwardly. “I did not realize I said that so loud. I—uh, well, I suppose you will find out eventually. They,” he nods toward the door, “have been together most of their lives.”

That’s an interesting revelation. “Cool. So, I get to be the Jolene in this situation,” you scoff. “Typical. Apparently, fae males are just as bad as human ones. They can’t be honest and think it’s okay to have multiple lovers just because you didn’t specifically tell him you wanted to be exclusive. You’d think that would be a given, right? But also, shouldn’t transparency come from the person who wants to do the hustling? Fuck me, I guess, for assuming men have the emotional maturity to navigate a relationship or, heaven forbid, know how to communicate beyond the twitch in their pants…” You let your words trail off, realizing you just let them vomit out in frustration.

“Well, I am not sure who or what Jolene is, but I know Yoons has had nothing but good intentions for this whole situation. Things have moved a lot faster than any of us could have anticipated. It is not like he was intentionally keeping Mini from you, nor you from Mini. They both know good and well that this is far more important than whatever feelings they have for one another. Fate is a cruel master that we are all at the mercy of.” Joon's speaking is oddly comforting, even if it is pretty blunt. He reminds you of your grandpa in many ways, seemingly knowing what needs to be said and when.

You may not understand the situation to the degree that they do, but you can still relate to and sympathize with their desperation. There was a point where you wanted something so badly you would and did do anything to obtain it. Granted, a sterling silver and amethyst engagement ring doesn’t quite equate to the lives of an entire people, but you still know what it feels like to fight tooth and nail for something you wholeheartedly want. It’s part of why you were so adamant about Monica enjoying herself with Malcolm and trying not to put so much expectation and demand into the situation. You’ve learned that life and its opportunities are fickle at best, so it’s inherently important to grab onto them while you can.

As opportunities go, despite Yoons apparent inability to not be the stereotypical fae you heard about in your grandpa’s stories, you know you don’t have many right now. Your best one is still to keep to the bargain you’ve agreed to. The faster you help Yoons, the quicker you can leave. Though, you reckon maybe you won’t be able to go all that fast. From your recollection, JK said Samhain wasn’t for another six moons.

“Joon, what happens once things are back to normal around here? Do I just stay here with you until Samhain?” you ask.

The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. “You are more than welcome to stay here, but I imagine Yoons will want his bonded mate as close as possible until he can see you back through the gate himself when the time comes.”

“Why would you even want to go back?” The question surprises you, coming from JK. You had almost forgotten he was standing by the door.

You drop your hand and turn to look at him. The fire casts his face in shadows, highlighting the bridge of his nose and the cut of his cheekbones. He looks every bit the fae of lore that you once fantasized about. His eyes bore into yours, lips mashed into a severe line as he waits for you to respond.

“Why would I want to go back?” you parrot back incredulously. “Are you serious? Why wouldn’t I?! That’s where my friends, family, and all other things important to me are. It’s not like you took me from a life of nothing. You haven’t done me any favors…I can only imagine the domino effect this will have on the people in my world.”

🌸🌸🌸

Monica

“Mal, why isn’t she back yet? She’s abandoned me after everything I’ve done for her…traveling halfway around the world chasing after woo-woo kids' stories all because she can’t cope with losing someone.” Monica mumbles into Malcolm’s shoulder. If the way her stomach is clawing at itself, she’s sure it’s been hours since you left to get food. “I’m hungry.”

Malcolm shifts Monica in his lap, getting ready to stand up with her in his arms. “Well, I am glad she brought ye half wey aroond the world. And, I’m sure she’s braw. She likely got caught up in th’ festivities again. I will have mah pal, Finn, keep an eye oot for her. I think I should be getting ye in kip. Otherwise, ye’ll be in a fankle come mornin’.”

“At least send her a text or something for me, please?” Monica whines. “What about my food? Can you ask her where my food is, too? Ugh.”

Swinging Monica into his arms, Malcolm cradles her close, whispering assurances that he’ll take care of everything and not to worry. He calls out to his friend, Finn, asking him to keep an eye out for you and, if he sees you, to let you know that he’s taken Monica back to his place to sleep it off.

After getting Monica strapped into the passenger seat, he shoots off a quick text to your number that he got from her phone, reiterating his intentions and providing his home address if you wanted to come to check on her after you’re done at the festival.

When morning rolls around, you’re still nowhere to be found and aren’t responding to any texts or calls. The hangover is nothing compared to the guilt Monica feels recalling her words and actions last night. You may not have heard what she said to Malcolm, but she hates that she said it regardless.

“Where is she?” Monica voices for what feels like the thousandth time, wiping at the smeared mascara under her red-rimmed eyes.

Monica was nearing her wit's end when you still hadn’t shown up by lunchtime. Malcolm took her down to the local Police Authority to file a report; they immediately went into action. So far, the entire Bowhill House estate and surrounding woods have been searched with no luck. The rental car is still parked at the estate, and all your luggage and credentials are still in your hotel room. It’s like you simply disappeared.

Malcolm pulls the hot kettle off the burner, setting it aside to begin preparing coffee. The bakery sits empty, aside from him and Monica and the occasional officer or concerned friend who pops by with any updates. The time in between information has grown increasingly more significant, putting Monica even further on edge.

“She’ll turn up, lass. She would nae have left ye.” The assurances don’t seem to be doing as much as they had before.

Monica sighs, staring out the bakery window, trying to think of anything important that might lead to finding your whereabouts. Deep down, though, she can’t shake off the niggling thought that you’re no longer here…but somewhere else.

🌸🌸🌸

JK glares at you as if you’ve somehow offended him with your words. “At least your loved ones are safe, protected back in the human world…not mere days away from utter destruction.” His words make you grind your teeth, irritated in your own way that they make you feel selfish and ungrateful.

Joon clears his throat, breaking the thick tension in the air. “That will be enough of that; from both of you. Far too much negativity has permeated through the eaves of my home, and I will not allow it to continue.” A soft breath leaves him as he returns to his wood, murmuring something else you barely catch, “I do not think my magick can handle much more strain anyway.”

Drawing your legs up to your chest, you return to watching the fire dance in the hearth. The silken fabric of the pants Joon gave you slips along your legs as you shift, bringing with it soft whiffs of cedar and clove. The entire outfit smells faintly of it, like mulled spices and freshly chopped cedar chips. It’s comforting, much like the lavender and thyme tea from earlier. It reminds you of your grandpa. Your thoughts shift to him and his stories. A sad smile tugs at your lips, and you wonder if he’d believe you if you told him where you’d found yourself. You’re sure he would.

The voices outside have quieted down. Your eyes begin to droop as exhaustion creeps in. Since time holds little meaning here, you wouldn’t be surprised to see the sun peeking through the windows soon or several hours from now.

When the front door creaks open, you’re nearly slumped over on the floor asleep. You jerk upright and blink rapidly to bring your eyes back in focus. Yoons walks in, followed by a very somber-looking Mini. They both look as if they have been crying, eyes red-rimmed, and cheeks blotchy.

Mini approaches you, back ramrod straight and shoulders squared. He looks down at you along the bridge of his nose. His eyes are a startling turquoise color, something you missed when he first stormed through the door hours ago. They are soft, unlike the glinting green and gold of Yoons’ eyes. “I am sorry.”

You’re taken aback by his apology, balking up at him in confusion. “What?”

“My behavior was unbecoming of someone of my stature. I formally extend an apology to you on behalf of the entire Seelie Court and my position as Crowned Prince, Protector of The Sun, and Guardian to The Stars.” The words are stilted, sounding rehearsed and lacking any genuine emotion. “I hope you do not allow your first perception of me to color the view you hold for the rest of my people.” He cuts a short bow, looming over you as he does, before straightening and turning toward Yoons, standing by JK near the door. “I will be going now.”

“Mini, it does not have to be like this, and you know it.” Yoons crossed his arms over his chest, eyes fixed in a glare.

You can’t see the look on Mini’s face, but you can’t imagine it’s a nice one. “I would rather chew off my own tongue than witness the love of my life fornicating with a magickal void. I will return tomorrow night to move forward with our agreement of attack. Until then, goodnight.”

Yoons moves quickly, cutting off Mini’s advances toward the door. “Please, just stay. They will not miss you at court if you are gone for a few nights. They already think you are patrolling along the border.” He hesitates, flexing his fingers where they are wrapped around Mini’s bicep. “I was hoping you would do the binding for us as a way of offering your blessing. I would not want it to be done by anyone else.”

Mini scoffs. “You want me to be the one to bind you?” Bitterness coats his words, “Do you have no shame? You would ask me to do this, for your sake? What about my sake?”

“Please, Mini, I need this from you. I need this to know that once all of this is over, we will still be okay, that we will still be us” Yoons pleads, moving his hands to grip the lapels of Mini’s jacket. “I cannot do this without you. There is no point in doing this without you because, without you, I might as well not have a people, a kingdom…I would have nothing.”

“Fuck you,” Mini whispers, resignation taking the heat out of it. Yoons pulls him into a fierce hug, clinging to him in desperation. “Seven Suns knows this is not fair. I do not know what I did in a past life to deserve this.”

“I promise to spend the rest of my days making it up to you,” Yoons responds, his words choked with emotion.

You feel like you’re witnessing something private, something you shouldn’t be present for. There is no doubt the connection between them. You’re suddenly feeling something you haven’t in a long time; envy. To love and be loved, in turn, is a desire you hold close to your heart. Tearing your eyes away from where Yoons and Mini are still held in each other's arms, you let your gaze slide across the room, briefly landing on JK and then Joon, who seem to be ignoring the other two as you’re trying to do.

Running Mini’s words back through your head, you realize he mentioned his position as crowned prince of the Seelie Court. Of course he would also be a prince. No wonder he doesn’t think you’re good enough for Yoons. You’re nowhere near having a status like that. You feel a pang of sadness, knowing they can’t be together as mates all because Yoons needs to have access to his full power. It seems that Joon is right; fate is, indeed, a cruel master.

“The sun will be rising soon. We should hurry,” Yoons murmurs, finally pulling away from Mini. “Um, Beautiful,” he stumbles over the nickname given to you by JK, “I also want to apologize.” He turns to face you, quickly rubbing the sleeve of his top over his cheeks to clear away the residual tears. “This is not how any of this was supposed to pan out. I know you must have many questions, but time is not on our side. We are both bound by our word and agreement. I promise to answer any more of your questions once we have fulfilled the bond we have agreed to.”

You chew your bottom lip a moment, focusing on the knot you can feel sitting in the center of your chest, which you know is tied to the agreement you made. There is surprisingly little waiver in your voice as you speak, “What happens if I go back on my word? What if I have changed my mind and am no longer willing?”

The room falls into an uncomfortable quiet. As he stares at you, darkness boils in the mossy depths of Yoons’ eyes. “What can I offer you for that not to happen?” His words slice through the silence, quiet but teetering on the edge of barely restrained frustration.

Smoothing your hands along the front of the borrowed top you’re wearing, you stand from your place on the cushion and face Yoons fully. “I want you to give me your true name.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” JK roars immediately.

“Let us be reasonable here,” Namjoon tries, knuckles turning white as he clutches the wood in his hands.

Mini hisses, baring his teeth at you in challenge. “How dare you! I will—”

“Yoongi. Yoongi of House Min, Crowned Prince of the Unseelie Court, Protector of The Moon, and Guardian to The Stars.” A sense of power settles next to that knot in your chest. You weren’t sure if the stories about the power of given names were true, but it was worth asking; you’re glad you did. Holding leverage over this fae gives you a sense of peace, despite the circumstances.

You nod, satisfied and finally feeling in control for the first time since coming through the gateway. “Okay, Yoongi, what do I need to do?”

“We begin with the binding of our fates,” he says, glancing at Mini, who has a guarded expression on his face. “As the moon gives way to the sun, and the lines between the planes of magick blur, allowing them to embrace and kiss like lost lovers, we will exchange vows bound beneath a knot of eternity.”

“Under the oak?” Mini asks quietly.

Yoongi nods. “It is the closest that we have. JK, if you will?” He holds out a hand to his guard. You watch as JK slowly reaches up and undoes the silver necklace with the crescent pendant from around his neck.

“May I witness?” JK questions, his eyes wide and rounded with curiosity and wonder. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the flickering light or not, but you’re almost sure you see the glossiness of unshed tears in their depths as well.

“I would not have it any other way, my friend,” Yoongi answers in kind, taking the silver necklace from JK with one hand and clapping him gently on the shoulder with the other. “Joon, you are welcome to bear witness as well.”

Joon hums thoughtfully, setting aside his wood project and tools on the floor. “It would be the greatest honor to stand in observance.”

“What exactly is going to happen?” you ask. You clench your fists at your side, fighting off the sudden wave of nerves barreling through you. You might have power over this fae, but you’re essentially about to marry him, and that feels far more daunting now that it’s about to happen.

Yoongi steps forward and takes one of your hands, gently uncurling your fingers and soothing them with his own. “There is an incantation, ancient words that bind souls together. We will clasp each other's arms like this,” he explains, sliding his fingers along your wrist and forearm before firmly grasping it so his wrist presses against the inside of yours. “We will wrap the silver chain of JK’s necklace around our wrists to keep the pulse points connected as we are bound, my magick to you and you to my magick. This opens the doorway to access the well of my magick. The act of…giving ourselves to one another—removing all barriers—will allow you to step through that doorway, anchoring my connection to my inner well through your access.”

“It sounds so mysterious and, let’s be honest, crazy.” You shake your head, silently pleading for some sort of sign that this is the right thing to do and that you’re not blindly putting your faith in a group of deranged strangers. The breath in your lungs wheezes out, and with the next inhale, you catch the faint cedar and clover scent of the borrowed clothes you’re wearing. It has a calming effect, one you latch onto and allow yourself to cling to. Everything happens for a reason. That’s something you have always believed. Perhaps the thing you’ve been chasing, that something that drove you to fly across the world on a whim, is this. Why else would all of this have happened? “So crazy that it has to be true, right? Fuck. Please don’t let me regret this,” you mutter to yourself.

Mini gestures impatiently toward the door. “Come on, before I have sense enough to change my mind.”

Yoongi guides you out the door and around the side of the tiny home. This is your first time getting a good look at the area. Joon’s cottage sits in a grassy clearing, a massive towering oak in the center, like everything else was built around it. The outer wall of the house sits just under the lowest branches, the fat leaves lightly brushing the lip of the roof. A small picket fence surrounds an expansive, full and lush garden with greenery and crops.

Mini, JK, and Joon follow you and Yoongi around the oak's far side. A large stone wall with a circular opening spanning through the center is hidden on the other side of the garden. Through the space, you can see a pathway into Joon’s garden, lined with blossoming white and purple flowers. “A moon gate,” you whisper in awe.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you in surprise. “You know moon gates?”

“Well, yes, I’ve seen them dating as far back as the 17th century in China, though they are also popular in Bermuda. They’re often associated with wealth or good omens,” you rattle off the generic information you know about them. “Though, my grandpa always had a theory that, like structures such as Stonehenge and the Carnac Stones, the moon gates—given the proper implements—could be used as ceremonial gateways to and from other planes or as conduits of power.”

All three of them give you mild looks of astonishment. “You must tell me more about your grandfather once all of this is over,” Yoongi requests, much to your own surprise. “He sounds like an extraordinarily intuitive man.”

“He was, yes.” And with that, you decide you’re no longer acting on your sole behalf but on his, too. You know he would tell you this is the right thing to do. He would be proud of your sacrifice and commitment to helping Yoongi. “I think I would like that very much.”

A distinct pink hue begins to infiltrate the horizon, just over the treeline surrounding the clearing. “The sun is rising,” Joon comments lightly.

Standing together in the opening of the moon gate, Mini and JK work to secure the silver crescent moon necklace around your and Yoongi’s wrists. There is a fervent way to how they work, methodical with nimble and sure fingers. “You said before that we would exchange vows under the knot of eternity?” you say it more as a question than a statement, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Surprisingly, it’s Mini who answers. “Moon gates are an infinite symbol. They have no ending or beginning. They represent eternal continuity. The masonry of the moon gate is a form of stone knotting, precise cuts and measurements that allow the stone to secure together like a knot. It is integral to how the stone retains its perfectly rounded opening, thus a knot of eternity.”

“Beautiful,” you whisper under your breath, having a newfound interest in the symbols and nature of things here that are considered relatively mundane in your own world.

Yoongi’s hand is cool against the heat of your skin. The tips of his fingers graze lightly along the underside of your forearm, sending a slight flush of goosebumps up your arm. Those green and gold eyes meet yours, holding all his worries and relief, reservations and hope within them. He’s such a complex creature, you realize, full of facets and depths deeper than you can imagine. He’s a drowned soul, just someone looking for a way back to the surface . Fate may be a cruel master, but it seems also to have a poor sense of humor.

As the sun replaces the moon, darkness melding into light, Mini speaks words that you do not understand, but you know for sure that they are beautiful. The poetic words chanted over your union are rhythmic, flowing in a way that tugs at your heart. Joon and JK stand on either side of the moon gate, watching in silence as Mini recites the words of the bonding incantation. Finally, his words trail off, and he looks to Yoongi, giving him a slight nod.

Yoongi takes a slow breath, his eyes dropping to where your hand is clasped to his forearm. “As the moon gives way to the rising sun, so too will I give way to you as my mate. I open my heart to you so you may gaze upon my stars and find warmth within my soul. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.”

With his words, you feel an effervescent tingle beneath your skin from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. You’re not sure what to say or if you need to say anything at all, but you feel like you should.

“I—uh…”

“Just speak from your heart,” Mini encourages, sounding genuinely friendly toward you for the first time.

You look at him, realizing just how hard this must be. Wetness is gathered along his lashes, and his hands are fisting into the sides of his linen pants. He looks at Yoongi like he created the universe, and you suppose that maybe Yoongi did create one—the universe he shares with Mini. 

The words come easy now, flowing like you knew what to say all along. “The moon spends its entire life reflecting the light of the sun so that others may see, even in the dark. I offer myself to you not as the sun but as the ocean, so that you may look upon me and see the reflection of yourself with every cresting wave, to see yourself as others see you and know your full potential. You are now the blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my spirit till my life shall be done.” 

There is a small glimmer of playfulness that you can see in the awe on Yoongi’s face. His hand is no longer cold against your flesh. The buzzing beneath your skin has begun to increase to a staccato pulse, centered in the middle of your chest. The smell of fresh cedar and mulled spice reaches you suddenly, making you realize it is, in fact, Yoongi that smells like that. The subtle scent of jasmine and chamomile mix with it as Mini moves to begin unwinding the silver necklace from around your and Yoongi’s wrists.

“Thank you, Mini, for this gift you have given me.”

Mini gives Yoongi a sad smile. “I am sorry for the way I acted before. I know I have been selfish and a fool, but I will never stop loving you.” His eyes drift to yours. “I thank you for everything you do for Yoongi and our people. Your act of selflessness and kindness will be forever marked in our history.” He finishes removing the small silver chain, allowing you and Yoongi to release each other.

The sun is starting to peak above the treeline, flooding the garden with soft light that catches in the silvery strands of Yoongi’s hair and makes his eyes glitter. Yoongi’s hand slides down your arm until his fingers meet yours. It feels like he’s beneath your skin, the touch heightened in a way you’ve never experienced before.

“We will remain out here for the day, I think,” Joon comments. “It is sure to be a pleasantly beautiful one and perfect for a nap under the oak.”

“I should return to my patrol. I shall return here before nightfall to move forward with the plan.” Mini hesitates, looking uncertain as to what to do. Finally, he briefly grips Yoongi’s free hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go and taking a step back. “Until then.”

You watch as he crosses the clearing, his shoulders tight and his steps stiff. He glances back over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the treeline heading west, back toward the border of the Seelie Court.

“What plan is he talking about?” you ask, turning your attention to Yoongi. His hand still lingers on yours, his fingers lightly tapping against your palm in a calming rhythm.

Yoongi nods to Joon and JK, who have started to meander into the garden through the moon gate. “We think it best to move as soon as possible. My powers are at their greatest when the moon is high, so once night falls again, and we are fully bonded…I should be powerful enough to enter back into the Unseelie Court and finally confront Chaddick—to kill him and his swamp hag, Borgia.”

“That seems so…soon, so sudden. Would it not be better to wait a few days to get used to your new level of power?”

The look Yoongi gives you makes you want to cry. There is so much anguish and hurt you’re certain you can feel the extension of it in your own chest. “I have waited for nearly ten years. I do not know the extent of what horrors have befallen my mother. Every day I do not return is one more day that that bastard gets to extort and pull the strings of my people.” His fingers drop from yours. “Please try to understand.”

Yoongi turns and begins walking back to the front of the cottage. You mean to follow him and apologize, but Joon calls out to you from the garden. “Just a moment, please.”

You chew your bottom lip, watching Yoongi disappear around the corner before turning and finding Joon standing just on the other side of the opening of the moon gate. “What’s up?” you try not to sound too irritated, but you’re not sure it works.

Joon rubs the back of his neck, eyes locked onto the ground at your feet. “I was not sure when would be a good time, but I wanted to give you this before you went back in.” He looks up, extending his hand toward you. In his open palm rests a single white flower, the petals wide and curling haphazardly. “It is called Silver Ward. We use it to control the moon cycle of a female. I believe from what JK has told me of your world…you would call this birth control.”

That has warmth settling into your cheeks. “Oh. Thank you, I think.” You take the flower, pinching it between your thumb and forefinger. “What, um, what exactly do I do with it?” The bud left a chalky residue on Joon’s palm, and you can feel the powdery texture between your fingers.

“You need just one petal. Let it dissolve under your tongue. I am told it tastes like sweet cream. It offers protection for up to one moon cycle. I grow it here in the garden if you have need of more,” he says the last part hurriedly, giving you a shy smile before gesturing back through the moon gate. “If you need anything, we will be…here.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you,” you offer, blowing out your cheeks and eyeing the small white flower again. You turn to go, but Joon clears his throat, making you look back.

“I know this is unconventional, and you and Yoongi are practical strangers, but go easy on him. These are new waters for him to navigate. He will most likely make a fool of himself at least once.” And with that, Joon disappears back into the garden. You stand there easily more confused than you were before. You’re not sure what exactly Joon means concerning Yoongi, but there is only one way to find out.

The sun has risen above the trees by now, but the interior of Joon’s cottage is dark, the curtains over the windows drawn. A small fire burns in the hearth, illuminating enough to see the flower now nestled in your palm. You pluck off a single petal, the chalky coating feels silky against your fingers. You set the flower on the dining table and bring the petal up to your lips. It tastes like marshmallow fluff and disintegrates quickly under your tongue.

There are a myriad of new smells inside the small space, but the most prominent is a mixture of pine and orange blossom. With each breath you take, you’re sure you can distinguish the different smells on a deeper level than before, almost like you’re experiencing them with more than just your sense of smell. Already you feel so different, and you’re not even fully bonded to Yoongi. Before you can let yourself dwell too much on the changes and the unknown that’s to come, you take a deep breath and approach the door to the bedroom.

“Here goes nothing, I guess,” you mumble to yourself. The door to the bedroom is pushed nearly closed, leaving just a line of soft firelight revealed from within. You stand at the threshold, listening for a moment.

“You need this. You better not mess this up. We know the basics. It is not so dissimilar to—“ The floor under your feet creaks as you try to inch closer to hear him more clearly, cutting off his personal pep talk.

Knowing you’ve been caught, you ease open the door and step inside. “Sorry, I was just—whoa! Oh god!” You throw up your hands, slapping them over your eyes. “What are you doing?!” The image of Yoongi standing in front of the fireplace stark naked might as well be burned into your retinas. You can still see it just as vividly, even with your eyes now squeezed closed.

Yoongi makes a distressed noise, fumbling over his words in confusion. “I thought—is this not—umm, would you like me to cover up?” You can hear the rustle of fabric and his light footsteps as they draw near. “I am sorry.” He’s so close that his words, laced with his distinct clove and cedar scent, ghost over the backs of your hands where they’re still covering your face.

The stories got it all wrong, you’re sure. Fae don’t charm people with their glamors; surely all they do is remove their clothing, and the person is entranced. You can’t get the slow curve of where his spine meets his ass out of your head; the way his shoulders appear wider without a shirt, or how his waist tapers in to accentuate the angles of his hip bones. You only caught a brief glimpse as he turned from facing the fire to looking in your direction, but it was enough to fully flesh out all the intimate details.

You’re not a prude by any means. You actually consider yourself very sex-positive and forward-thinking. However, you suddenly feel like you belong in a nunnery, which is absurd. Shaking away the residual thoughts of habits and virtue, you lower your hands and open your eyes.

Yoongi is standing right before you, his black brows pinched in concern. The purple and green checkered quilt tucked under his arms seems comical now, considering you already know what it’s hiding. “You don’t have to do that,” you wave a hand toward the quilt. “I just wasn’t expecting to walk in and see you—umm, like that, is all.”

“I was nervous,” Yoongi admits shyly. “I thought if I went ahead and removed some barriers, it would make it easier.”

That makes you laugh and lightens the mood instantly. “Well, I guess that makes us even, at least. We’ve each seen the other naked without expecting it.”

“So it would seem,” Yoongi muses playfully.

You clear your throat, trying to think of something thoughtful to say that doesn’t involve asking him to drop the blanket so you can get another look. “Why are you nervous?”

He studies you briefly before opening his mouth but doesn’t answer your question. “JK chose correctly,” he says instead, a slight smile on his face as his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes. “Beautiful is the perfect name for you…you are absolutely exquisite. I hate that I am just now getting a true look at you up close.”

“Oh.” Heat creeps into your cheeks, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. “Thanks, I think. Umm, should we?” You nod toward the bed, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you.

Yoongi glances at the bed and then back at you. “Would it be okay if I kiss you first? Just to get over some of my nerves.”

All you can do is nod, caught as you are swimming in the serenity you find in Yoongi’s eyes. His lips are light against yours at first, just a soft brush. The flavor of clove and spice bursts on your tongue as you inhale, tasting his harried exhale as he presses his lips more firmly to yours.

Your fingers find themselves fisting into the blanket covering Yoongi��s chest as you try to draw him closer. His taste is intoxicating, spicy, and exotic. The first brush of his tongue against yours has your knees going weak. He brings his arms around you, effortlessly supporting you as you take over the kiss.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. You feel consumed with desire and the need to mark this fae as yours. That intense pulse inside your chest is compounding, intensifying into a roaring storm. Yoongi lets out a soft moan that spurs you on, your fingers loosening the blanket and letting it drop to the floor between you. “What am I doing?” you pant, mildly appalled by your own brazen behavior. “It’s like I can’t stop.”

“My m-magick—ah, it is calling to you,” Yoongi moans as your lips break away from his to move along his jaw. You nip and lick down his neck and press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone.

Yoongi staggers back a step, breaking free of your hold, gasping and clutching at the center of his chest. “Seven Hells! It is like you are beneath my skin,” he speaks the words you thought to yourself earlier.

“I know,” you moan breathily. With the step he’s taken back, you’re now free to see what you only got a glimpse of before. It’s just as pleasing, maybe even more so, considering the very impressive erection that he’s now sporting. His cock is blushed pink at the head, a glistening bead of moisture pooling along his tip. “I need to feel more of that. Whatever that is,” you fist a hand over your own chest, “whatever this is.”

Licking your lips, you can feel how aroused you are. The pulsing between your thighs is accentuated when you step toward Yoongi. He backs up, and you continue forward, smirking at the shy alarm on his face. “I-I am not sure what to do.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, chuckling softly. “You have done this before, right?”

Yoongi flinches when the backs of his knees bump into the foot of the bed. “Well, I—uh, sort of.”

“Mini?” His name leaves your mouth as a breathy question.

“That is different. It is…not like this,” he admits, eyes wide as you press your body to his. “If you had a cock I might know what to do with it.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Take my clothes off.”

Yoongi gives you a sharp look, raising an eyebrow like he expects you to be playing with him. He settles against the end of the mattress, his weight dips the downy material, putting him now at eye level with you. “Your clothes?” he smirks. “I was annoyed, at first, when I saw you wearing these. Apparently, Joon thought it would be funny to have you parading around in my clothes, marking them with your scent.”

The linen fabric of the top shreds easily under his hands, his fingers sliding between two buttons and pulling until they all pop, scattering across the room. You can’t help but moan. Your chest heaves as you try to regain some composure, sucking in stilted breaths laced with cedar and clove. “Do you need me to give you a step-by-step guide to a woman’s body?” you go for a bit of snark to try and tip the power balance back in your favor.

All evidence of Yoongi’s previous shy awkwardness has vanished. “I think I can figure it out,” he whispers before leaning forward and pressing an opening-mouthed kiss to the fabric covering your left nipple. Your bra is lacey, quickly becoming sheer as Yoongi laves his tongue over it.

You shudder under his mouth, tentatively resting your hands on his shoulders. “Take it off,” you urge.

Yoongi leans back, strings of saliva connecting his parted lips to your breast. “You taste like solstice rain and moonlight. I do not know how else to describe it.” His fingers make quick work of the remnants of the tattered top. He fumbles with the clasp of your bra, but before you can move to help him, he simply snaps the strap—the sound of fabric rending  tears through the air with your own gasp of barely restrained surprise.

“I needed that,” you whine, trying to step back and away from Yoongi before he ruins any more clothing.

“No.” He bares his teeth, glaring up at you through a lust-filled haze. “It is unfair to keep yourself so restricted.”

You roll your eyes and giggle softly as Yoongi grabs at you and brings you back in close. “What’s unfair is how long it’s taking you to undress me.” Shrugging your shoulders, you let the straps of your bra fall down your arms and discard it on the floor.

“I will take my time, and you will be patient,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your now exposed chest. “You are making me ache in ways I never knew possible, like a hunger that can not be sated.”

He slides his hands up your stomach, letting his fingers spread across your ribs and thumbing over your pert nipples, kneading the rounded flesh of your breasts. “Does it always feel like this? Y’know, with a fae?” you question with a gasp.

“This is the first time I have experienced something like this,” he admits, a dopey smile tugging at his lips to expose his pointed canines. “I feel drunk whenever I touch you like I am high on moon wine and blue caps.”

His breath is warm against your skin as he dips forward and latches onto one nipple and then the other. “I might cum if you keep doing that,” you moan as he does it again, spreading his attention between them equally. “It’s like you’re sucking right on my clit.”

“I do not know what this clit is, but I would like to find out,” his words are muffled against your skin, reverberating through your chest and right down to your aching core.

You find your hands fisting into his silver hair, encouraging him to continue exploring your chest with his tongue and teeth. “Let me show you,” you plead. Relenting, curious to continue learning your body, he pulls away and pants against your sternum. “The pants.” He drops his hands down to the fastening on your borrowed pants and methodically unties the knot, letting them fall lax around your hips. Earlier, after your bath, you put your bra back on but decided to forgo your panties, thinking a slightly damp shirt was better than wet pants.

Yoongi’s eyes follow the pants as they slip down your thighs, and his breath hitches as they hit the floor, allowing your sweet and intoxicating scent to permeate the air of the room thoroughly. “You smell so sweet. Show me.” 

“Here,” you breathe, bracing your hands on his shoulders and slowly bringing one of your legs up, perching your foot on the bed beside his hip, opening yourself to him. Your half-mast eyes meet his as he stares up at you. The gold and green of his eyes are nearly consumed whole by the black of his blown pupils. 

“Fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut and grinding his teeth. “It is almost too much,” he grits, bringing one of his hands down to fist around his weeping cock. He hisses in a sharp breath, stroking slowly up and down before finally opening his eyes and letting them drift down to where you are exposed to him.

Slowly reaching down, you grab his other hand and bring it up between your thighs. You guide his fingers, probing them along your lower lips until they brush over your clit. “This is it. It’s very sensitive,” you suck in a breath as he swirls his fingers in a circle.

“Interesting,” he muses. “I wonder what would happen if…” his words trail off as he catches one of your nipples between his teeth and lightly pinches your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You jerk against him, crying out from the mix of pleasure and pain. “Yoongi!” When his name leaves your lips, you feel his body go rigid, and a strangled sound emanates from his throat.

That tether inside your chest pulls taut, and you’re pretty sure you can feel him even more now. Not only does it feel like he’s beneath your skin, it feels like he’s invaded every molecule of your being. His breath is your breath, his heartbeat thumps to the same rhythm as yours, and the arousal pumping through his body echoes through you with a shiver down your spine.

His lips come off your nipple with an audibly wet pop, the sensation making you both moan wantonly. “Where do I put my cock, Beautiful? I need to mate with you before I lose my mind.”

“Fuck me,” you correct. “You need to fuck me before you lose your mind. Mating sounds so clinical, fucking is far more sexy, dirty…naughty.” You push on his shoulder, forcing him to lay back. “Say it.”

“I need to fuck you before I lose my mind,” he emphasizes, voice going husky, letting the words curl his lips up in a smirk. His dark eyes track your movements as you follow him onto the bed, moving slowly on your knees as he shifts toward the pillows.

Stopping with your knees to either side of his hips, you settle your ass against the tops of his thighs. The glistening head of his cock smears drips of precum against his stomach as it twitches under your gaze. If you weren’t already so strung out, you’d take him into your mouth and draw more of those guttural moans from him. As it is, the ache between your thighs is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Yoongi isn’t the only one on the brink of losing their mind. You’ve never wanted something so much in your life.

“I want you to feel,” you encourage, taking up both of his hands. You guide one between your thighs, purposefully dragging both of your hands over his swollen cock. His bottom lip is puffy and red from the gnashing he’s giving it. Sticky strands of arousal drip onto your fingers as you press his to your clit again. “Spread your fingers,” you guide his hand further, nudging his fingers to either side of your pussy.

“You are so warm and wet. Is that normal?”

You hum in amusement. “Warm? Generally. Wet? Only if you’re doing it right.” Yoongi makes a satisfactory noise, his eyes taking on a smug softness as he gazes up at you. “Just wait until you feel how warm and wet it is around your cock.” That makes him lick his lips, his gaze sliding down your body until it rests on his fingers, now gently probing around your opening.

His thick erection pulses in your hand when you wrap your fingers around it. They don’t reach all the way around. You give him an appreciative squeeze that has his teeth sinking into his bottom lip again and his hips flexing under you.

You press his other hand against one of your breasts, encouraging him to knead and thumb over your nipple. “You are so soft everywhere. Delicate and sweet. It makes me want to mark you and dirty you up.”

That makes you shudder and whine, his words tugging at that place in the center of your chest. Not being able to hold back any longer, you shift up onto your knees and angle his cock up. With a slow and smooth roll of your hips, you work the head of his cock through your wetness. You can feel his fingers move, rubbing along the crown of his head, smearing your arousal around.

“Fuck. Me,” he growls. If words alone could elicit an orgasm from you, you’re pretty sure it would be those exact ones, spoken in that very tone, coming from this specific male.

Your lips part with a gasp, your walls fluttering in anticipation. A smirk kicks up the corner of your mouth as you give him precisely what he wants. It’s an empowering experience, watching the emotions and feelings morph across his face. The way his lips slowly part until you can see the pink of his tongue resting over his teeth, the hitch in his breath with each additional inch you take; perhaps most potent of all is the heat and all-consuming desire you see bloom in his eyes as he bottoms out inside of you.

There is a moment of suspended time when you can feel your body accepting his, the stretch is delicious in all the right ways. The universe shifts around you, clicking into place so he truly becomes the moon reflected on your ocean—realistically and metaphysically. You know this is the bond expanding and settling into place, the door opening for you to cement that connection to Yoongi’s magick.

Yoongi smoothes his hand across your breast until it’s pressed right over your heart. His other gently slides out from around where he’s stretching you, fingers splaying against your lower stomach and thumb settling against your clit. “I can feel everything, my hands on your skin, the pressure of my cock inside you, the way my magick is ardently beckoning to you. Reach for it,” he urges, flexing his hips again to grind himself inside you.

“What does it feel like?” the words become a moan as you lift up and then drop back down, rocking your hips as you do.

The full-body shudder that goes through him reverberates into you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck and making goosebumps cascade down your arms. “Ecstasy,” he moans, mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. His back arches, and you find yourself mesmerized by the incandescence of his skin in the firelight.

You dip down, flicking at one of his nipples with your tongue before sucking a blushing mark beside it. The sound of your body meeting his repeatedly is obscene, the scent of arousal and sweat heavy in the air. With each rise and fall of your body, you accept him deeper until there is no discernible difference, no ending or beginning. You just exist together in the same space.

His magick is like a cool sip of water on a hot summer day, cooling and soothing your throat that you didn’t even know was so parched. It is the finest ambrosia, sweet silk on your tongue. Pinpricks of light break through the shadowy haze of your arousal, keying you into the well inside Yoongi. His eyes snap open, finding yours; glittering stars and fiery planets flit through nebulas of swirling galaxies in their depths, constantly changing with every beat of his heart.

The closer you draw to orgasm, the closer you feel to fully immersing yourself in that pool of starlight and cosmic energy. Just as the moon is forever connected to the tide, this will tether you to him for the rest of your existence. The fear of that, which was palpable before, is now nonexistent. You find comfort in letting your walls down and welcoming Yoongi in.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, moving faster against him. His thumb adds just the right amount of pressure to your clit with each roll of your hips.

“Make me yours,” Yoongi pleads.

His words are the beginning, the tipping of the scales into the endless abyss that is his magick. You cry out, your body surrendering to the pleasure that he provides. The orgasm begins at a violent peak, sucking all the air from your lungs and pulling your muscles so tight they feel like they will snap. The plummet down the other side is exhilarating in high contrast to the tempest, turning from a raging storm into a comforting spring rain. You pulse around him, claiming and marking him as yours, demanding he gives in, too.

You can see the moment he lets go and feel the muscles in his thighs bulge with strain. Warmth floods you with each jet of his cum, punctuated with sharp grunts through his bared teeth. Magick floods the room, encapsulating you and Yoongi in a fog of power so potent you can feel it caressing your skin, thin tendrils of smoke curling around your limbs and weaving through the strands of your hair.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name, completely in awe at what you’re experiencing.

“Mine,” he murmurs in response, looking up at you with complete and utter devotion—surrender—in his lichen and ochre eyes. He raises his hands, cupping your face and gently pulling you down. His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, lingering a moment before deepening.

Pulling back, you break the kiss with a breathy sigh of contentment. “Mine.” The fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, he was nothing more than your captor no longer matters. He is yours as much as you are his. You know you are where you’re meant to be, doing what you’re meant to do. It was always written in the stars—how could it not be?

Easing one of your legs up, you brace yourself and, with his hands on your hips for assistance, pull off him in a gush of sticky warmth. The scent of clove and maple syrup invades the air in a thick wave. It makes your mouth water, and you can’t help but look down at the mess pooling around his half-hard cock and smeared over your inner thighs with a bit of hunger in your eyes.

“Here,” he says, amusement coloring his husky voice. He swirls a long, slender finger through the sticky mess and brings it to your lips. “Taste.”

Your lips part automatically, your tongue poking out slightly in anticipation. His finger presses down on your tongue, firmly depositing the mix of cum. You greedily suck at his finger, moaning at the taste of warm spices and sweet syrup that burst on your tongue.

It’s now on the tip of your tongue to request to suck his cock, but the flicker of seriousness you see on his face stops that line of thought. You shift, slumping onto the bed beside him, never letting your eyes leave his. The finger he had in your mouth goes into his, and he makes a pleased sound deep in his chest, but his face remains alarmingly impassive. You wonder if you concentrate hard enough whether or not the bond will allow you to hear his thoughts. You can feel him trying to tamp down his feelings as it is. The only thing you have clear and unfettered access to is the seemingly endless well of magick he now has.

“I guess we should go then?” you say after a stretch of silence.

He gives you a sharp look, brows pinched. After a moment, they smooth out, and his face softens. “I can feel your uncertainty. No, my beautiful mate, we do not need to go yet. I do not mean to appear so…distant. I am just trying to understand these new feelings,” he trails off in a whisper, dropping one of his hands onto his chest above his heart. The tips of his fingers prod at his skin like he could dig beneath it and find the answers.

“It’s kind of weird, huh?” You rub at your own chest, marveling at the echoed sensation of Yoongi still gently prodding at his own.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him as he rolls over to face you. It surprises you that his cock is fully hard again, resting against your thigh. “I would not call it weird. I would call it extraordinary.”

That makes you feel fuzzy, cottony-sweet in all the right ways. “Tell me about the plan,” you hesitate to ask, but can’t help yourself now. Your fingers brush lightly along his hip as you adjust beside him, absently moving closer.

Yoongi reaches up, brushing hair from your face. His eyes flick over your features, lingering on your lips several times. “We will leave as soon as the moon appears in the sky. It is roughly a two day journey if we move cautiously. We aim to reach an old turret house on the castle's south side. The last time JK did reconnaissance in the area, he found it abandoned. There is a tunnel through the gatehouse there that leads into the dungeons. It was filled with stones and rubble many years ago, but JK has slowly been excavating it over the last handful of years. It should not take long to break through the remainder and make it inside the castle. The rest…” he trails off, shrugging slightly.

“What about Borgia? The guards?” You lick your lips, trying to stay focused on getting some more clarity on his plan. The heat of Yoongi’s body calls to you. You slip your hand onto his side, trailing your fingers over the smooth curve of his hip bone.

“We can talk about those things later,” he dismisses. “I would much rather focus on something else.” He nips lightly at your bottom lip, trying to coax you away from the conversation. “Wait–you can’t really expect just to waltz in there and be welcomed with open arms. You said you were framed for murder. That leads me to believe that everyone believes it. Otherwise, they’d not be following this Chaddick douche in the first place. So, how are you—“ Yoongi cuts off your tirade with a searing kiss, pressing his tongue into your mouth as you try to protest weakly. “What are you doing? I was just wondering about th–”

He shifts beside you, rolling so his body fits over yours, his hips pushing your thighs wide. “No,” he says, a light snarl sharpening the word. “None of that—not now. It seems I may have not fucked you thoroughly enough, if you still have a mind to wonder.” There is a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he smirks before adjusting his hips and sliding back into your wet heat with a groan. You gasp, clawing at his back as all thoughts of the holes in his plan are replaced with heady moans and delicious orgasms.

🌸🌸🌸

Jimin

It was hard to walk away, leaving Yoongi standing there beside such a devastatingly beautiful creature. The thought makes his lips curl in agitation. It’s not that he hates you. It’s just that he’s jealous of you. So, painfully jealous.

Now that he’s on his way back to Namjoon’s, the sun having set a few hours ago, Jimin feels like he has a clearer head than before. He spent the entire day barking orders at his squadrons, pushing them to train harder than usual. Something he might come to regret in the following days, but he’s resolved to deal with that when and if it comes up. Right now, he focuses on what lies ahead and the journey Yoongi is about to embark on.

To most individuals traversing the Hollow Lands, Namjoon’s clearing looks like a standard meadow with a large oak in the center. Jimin feels a repulsion as he approaches it, something he has to consciously fight against as he comes up to the invisible barrier. It’s how Yoongi has gone the last ten years undetected. Not only does Namjoon’s magickal ward hide the power signatures of another Fey, it also acts as a deterrent, forcing those that don’t know it exists to walk entirely around it without even knowing.

After Yoongi escaped the Unseelie Court, the Hollow Lands were crawling with Unseelie and Seelie guards alike for several months. All in search of the rogue prince. Jimin lamented the entire time, knowing where Yoongi was but wondering whether or not Namjoon could hold the ward. Little did Jimin realize, Namjoon could hold it for far, far longer than any of them thought possible. Though, Jimin is hyper-aware of how much Namjoon’s magick is flagging. He’s glad the ward and strain on his magick won’t be needed much longer.

The large, seeded oak, swathed in shafts of moonlight, comes into view, and Jimin slows his pace, taking as much time as he can to control his breathing and temper. He doesn’t want to snap and snarl at you like a rabid hound constantly, it just happens, and the guilt of it is gnawing at him.

Plastering on a neutral expression, he pushes through the invisible boundary and enters the clearing. The first thing he sees is you and Yoongi, standing on Namjoon’s porch, haloed by the soft glowing lights, with your lips pressed together in a languid kiss. His nose is tickled by your sickly sweet syrupy scent, mixing with his lovers’. A growl forms in his chest, but he swallows it before it can come out.

Jimin clears his throat as he crosses the yard, startling you and Yoongi. Yoongi flinches away from you, putting several inches between your bodies. That familiar guilt rolls in as Jimin watches your expression drop as if Yoongi’s knee-jerk reaction hurts you. Jimin subtly shakes his chin, dismisses it, and looks to Yoongi. “The moon will be at its zenith soon. Have you prepared?”

Namjoon and Jungkook appear from around the side of the house, carrying baskets full of harvested crops. “We began preparing as soon as the sun went down. We’ve been waiting for you,” Jungkook states cooly. He eyes Jimin, daring him to offer up some pitiful excuse for why he is arriving so late.

“I was under the impression we were not going to leave until the moon was at its highest point, giving Yoongi the most access to his magick,” Jimin replies, sounding only mildly annoyed.

“There will not be a we, Mini. You are not going.”

Jimin jerks around to gawk at Yoongi. “Excuse me?”

Yoongi subconsciously brushes his hand against yours as he steps closer to skirt around you and descend the porch stairs. “We have been talking about it and—“

“We? I thought there was no ‘we’?” Jimin interrupts, his annoyance flaring again.

Taking a deep breath, Yoongi gestures back to you, “We—Beautiful and I—we, have been talking through the plan and agree that it would be best for you to remain behind just in case something happens. I do not want the wrong people to discover that you have been privy to my whereabouts this entire time.”

Jimin knows that makes sense and is exceptionally logical, but it still burns him inside. “What does she know?” he sneers. “She is barely Fey. What can she possibly offer in this situation other than her cunt!?”

“Watch what you say,” Yoongi warns in a voice like cold steel. “I have been nothing but patient with you, Mini. But I will not tolerate your tantrums much longer. Do not let my love for you blind you to all else. You will stay here, or you can go back to the Seelie Court, but you are not coming, and that is final.”

That burn intensifies, consuming Jimin in a conflagration of sorrow and anger. He chews his tongue until the metallic taste of blood bubbles in his mouth. All he can do is stare at Yoongi, wondering if they’ll be able to come back from this or if he’s lost him to the human forever. He finally drops his eyes, backing down from the argument. “So be it,” he mumbles.

Namjoon and Jungkook amble up the steps, setting the food baskets by the door. “The bags are almost ready,” Namjoon tells Yoongi. “I just have a few more items to add.”

“You honor me,” Yoongi replies, affectionately clapping Namjoon on the shoulder. “It will not be much longer, my friend.”

There is a haggardness around Namjoon’s eyes that Jimin hadn’t noticed before. The strain on his magick has never been more apparent. It helps break him out of his internal battle, pushing aside his grievances to deal with later.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Jimin hears you telling Yoongi.

“Everything will be fine, Beautiful. You have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin watches you shake your head and your brow furrow as you take up one of Yoongi’s hands. “I don’t like it. There’s still so much we don’t know about this,” you gesture between yourself and Yoongi. “What if it’s too much and we can’t navigate the flood properly? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about?” Jimin can’t help himself. He’s curious as to what you’re whining about. Curious about your bond in general, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your eyes slowly shift to Jimin, and he feels like a bug under a looking glass, being examined for flaws by you. “I want Yoongi to wait, a day at least, so he can experiment and get used to the new level of power he has now. I can feel it,” you absently pat your chest, making Jimin realize you’re wearing another of Yoongi’s shirts. He tries to shove down the envy that rears up, only barely managing to keep the sneer off his face. “It’s chaotic and unruly…it scares me.”

Jimin scoffs. “Of course it scares you. You are not Fey. You are not used to the ways of magick. Have some faith in your mate. I know you have barely known him for a day, but I have known him most of my life. Take it from someone who truly loves him. If he says he will be fine, then he will be.” He’s so intent on lashing at you that he misses the hurt he causes reflected in Yoongi’s eyes.

You frown at Jimin, chewing your bottom lip. “I do…um, have faith in him. I’m just…it’s hard to explain.”

Yoongi turns his eyes on you, and at that moment, Jimin almost drops to his knees. But, instead, he remains on his feet, swaying slightly as he silently anguishes over the adoration he sees in the depths of Yoongi’s gaze, the passion that was once meant only for him but is now shining so brightly for you.

“With you and JK with me, nothing can go wrong. We have two days of travel to work on control. We will be fine,” he assures, kissing your forehead softly.

“She’s going with you?” The words are caustic, like acid burning up his throat.

Yoongi sighs. “Yes. She and JK will accompany me. They will remain outside once we get to the castle while I confront Chaddick.”

“Ready to go whenever you are, boss,” Jungkook calls, coming out of the house ladened with three rucksacks and a string of metal canteens. “Beautiful, you get the tiny bag,” he chuckles, handing you the smaller of the three bags.

Jimin notes the amusement in your eyes as you swat at Jungkook affectionately. It seems the two of you have made up in the time he’s been away. It makes Jimin curious about what else you’ve managed to do. He glances at Namjoon, coming down the steps behind Jungkook.

“Packed enough food for the journey and then some.” Namjoon smiles, offering you a small loaf of something wrapped in a blue linen cloth. “Bread for tonight.”

“I tried to convince him that a loaf of bread isn’t really sensible for travel like this, but you know how he is,” Jungkook chides, playfully elbowing Namjoon in the ribs with a laugh.

“You will not be complaining tonight when you eat half of it yourself,” Namjoon murmurs. It makes Jungkook laugh again, their light banter continuing. Jimin watches, trying to come to terms with the myriad of emotions he’s feeling.

Yoongi takes one of the packs from Jungkook, securing it on his back comfortably before helping you with yours. “Joon,” Yoongi turns to Namjoon, embracing him. “Without you, we would have been lost long ago. It is time, my friend. Rest.”

Namjoon nods his head, eyes glistening with emotion. “It has been my pleasure.”

The moment the ward disappears, Jimin can feel it. His own magick prickles with the loss of such a powerful expression. He had never paid much attention to just how quiet the barrier made the glade. A cacophony of sounds infiltrates the small space around the house, bugs and birds, and all other manner of creature noises.

The seeded oak in the center of the clearing rustles in the wind, the leaves perking up ever so slightly as the strain of the ward lifts off of Namjoon’s shoulders.

“Take care while we are gone. I will send word as soon as possible, if you do not hear something beforehand.” Yoongi shifts his attention from Namjoon to Jimin. “Mini, it might be wise to check in with the Seelie Court sometime between now and three days from now to solidify your alibi just in case.”

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “This is absurd. I could just as easily wait outside the castle with JK. Besides, what if you need someone who can actually help if things go badly?”

“I already said—“ Yoongi begins but, to Jimin’s surprise, you step forward and cut him off.

There is no hostility in your eyes, which makes Jimin irritated all the more. He wishes you would yell and scream at him, shake a finger in his face or something to paint you in a negative light—to validate his dislike for you. “Mini,” the way you say his name so calmly makes him want to spit, “I know how much you care for Yoongi, but it wouldn’t be doing him any favors if you somehow got caught or found out to be with him. He explained to me much of what you have both endured the last ten years, don’t throw it away now.”

“You talked to her about us?” Jimin doesn’t bother to mask the hurt in his voice.

Shaking his head, not in denial but in exhaustion for this back and forth, Yoongi spreads his hands. “I do not know what you want from me. I am doing the best I can right now, Mini. Please…just, try. Try to be understanding. You and I both know this makes sense.”

Jimin wants nothing more than to lash out, continue arguing his point until Yoongi relents—leaving behind you and taking him instead. But, the way you look at Yoongi, almost like you pity him for having to put up with Jimin’s bullshit, has him swallowing down his next snide retort. The bridge between him and Yoongi is already hanging precariously by a fraying thread that’s maple flavored and you-shaped. He can’t afford to see it weaken further because of his own wounded pride.

“We need to move now while the moon is high. The darkness will help conceal us, but we can also use the additional power to cloak with,” Jungkook states, breaking the awkward tension, offering a brief nod in farewell to Namjoon and Jimin.

Jungkook has already moved to the edge of the tree line, waiting patiently for Yoongi and you to follow. An awkward moment passes as Yoongi and Jimin stare at each other. You offer Jimin a tight smile before pushing onto your toes and whispering something into Yoongi’s ear. Jimin wishes he could read your mind or that you’d speak aloud instead of in hushed tones. You pat Yoongi on the shoulder, turn without another word, and join Jungkook, your back to the clearing.

Yoongi closes the distance between himself and Jimin, reaching up with both hands and cradling Jimin’s face as he’s done countless times before. Jimin’s eyes flutter closed, a sob catching deep in his chest. He refuses to cry right now. He won’t let you see his weakness and how much this is hurting him. His resolve almost flags when Yoongi’s lips press to his, that familiar taste of clove flooding his senses, bringing with it a hint of maple that is far more alluring than it has a right to be.

It’s over far sooner than Jimin would like, but he’s too stunned to react. “You do not give her enough credit, my love. She deserves more than your ire.”

Whatever response Jimin had died on his tongue as Yoongi stepped away, giving him a sad smile before turning. He doesn’t look back as he joins you and Jungkook. Jimin stands there, staring until your group disappears in the gloom of the trees. Even then, he remains rooted to the spot, uncertain of what to do.

“Join me?” Namjoon asks. Jimin shakes himself, turning toward Namjoon, who nods to the baskets of potatoes and peas sitting on his porch. “Just like old times.”

“Of course.” Jimin nods, willing away the sadness threatening to swallow him whole. “I will welcome a good distraction.”

Namjoon moves up to the porch and eases himself down to sit on the edge of it, long legs making his feet nearly touch the ground. He pats the porch beside him. Jimin pulls over a basket of peas and has a seat.

Picking up one of the green pods, he presses his thumb into the seam and pops it open, depositing the dozen or so peas into the empty basket Namjoon places between them.

“Is it really so bad?” Namjoon asks. He doesn’t pose it as a snide question but as a genuinely concerned inquiry.

Jimin grabs another pod, methodically opening it and shelling the peas into the basket. “You would think after all this time, I would have developed some sense of acceptance regarding this situation. Perhaps I even thought I might have, but it seems that would be incorrect.”

“She is not that bad, you know.” Namjoon is efficient in his shelling, working through handfuls of pods simultaneously.

“I can see that, be assured. I just—Seven Suns—I am being an asshole. I do not mean to be. There is something I can not shake no matter how hard I try.” Jimin accidentally smashes a pea in frustration, flicking the ruined green mush into the yard. “I love him and fear that may not be enough now. I can not bring him the joys that she does. There is nothing more powerful than a mated bond.”

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls between them, Namjoon letting Jimin take the space he needs. Jimin knows he can speak plainly to his friend. After all, he has known Namjoon even longer than he has Yoongi. Namjoon used to reside within the Seelie Court, the son of a gardener on the very grounds where Jimin grew up. They were fast friends and crib mates when Namjoon’s mom would sometimes help the Seelie Queen tend to the younglings.

Namjoon is the reason Jimin did not neglect his duties as crown prince, and Jimin is the reason Namjoon now lives a life of solitude in the Hollow Lands. It was an accident, but no less Jimin’s fault for being careless. Namjoon had been helping him sneak out of the castle to meet with Yoongi secretly, helping foster the budding of their never-meant-to-be romance. They were caught one night. Jimin received guard duty as punishment. But Namjoon was turned out of the castle, not permitted to return.

Hours have passed and Jimin is so deep in his thoughts of life from before, that it takes Namjoon a few tries to get him to snap out of it. “Jimin! Jimin! I thought I heard—”

“Huh, what?” Jimin blinks his eyes, throwing a glance at Namjoon. Namjoon is staring into the distance. The sun is just beginning to peek over the trees, the spaces beneath still heavily shadowed. Namjoon opens his mouth to respond, but a pained scream echoing from the trees cuts him off. “What was that?”

“That sounds like—“ Another gut-wrenching scream rips through the air.

They’re both on their feet in seconds, leaping effortlessly off the porch, peas scattered and forgotten. “Can you get the ward back up?” Jimin asks, a feverish pitch to his words.

Namjoon licks his lips, perspiration already beginning to bead on his brow as he gathers the strength to attempt it. “I do not know, but I will try.”

“Here,” Jimin mindlessly snatches at the pendant around his neck, popping the links of the chain it’s attached to in the process. “Use this.” He drops the crescent moon necklace they used for the bonding ceremony in Namjoon’s palm. Implements used for bonding retain residual powers that can be used as amplifiers, like an echo of the magick the bond was created with. Jimin hopes it’s enough.

Namjoon closes his eyes and begins to mumble words under his breath. “It will not be as big, just focused directly around the house…but it will have to do.”

Jimin steps forward after another scream peals through the air, closer now. His feet falter as two figures come into view, stumbling out of the gloomy covering of the trees. “Seven Suns!” Jimin curses, frozen in shock at the sight before him.

His feet finally move as if with a mind of their own. He lurches forward, arms catching the smaller, bloodied form before it hits the ground.

Your cheeks are marred with jarring splashes of raven-colored liquid. Unseelie Blood. The metallic tang burns Jimin’s nose as he hauls you against his chest. Pitiful whimpers bubble past your lips, your whole body trembling in his hold. A faltering, equally bloody Jungkook hits the grass beside him, barely within the new barrier Namjoon has erected.

“What the fuck happened?” Namjoon drops beside Jungkook, frantic hands patting at his friend, checking his vitals.

“Sh!” Jungkook huffs, slapping a hand over Namjoon’s mouth. Despite being obviously injured, Jungkook pushes up into a sitting position, eyes locked on the treeline they just stumbled from.

The sounds of shouting pick up a moment later, and then a cluster of silhouettes move along about fifty yards in. It’s hard to hear what they’re talking about, but the few words Jimin catches have his hands tightening around you.

The new ward is up, but Jimin isn’t sure how long Namjoon can hold it. If it were to drop before the guards move on, they’d be far outnumbered. It would be an impossible battle. His eyes flick to Jungkook, taking a moment to assess his condition. There is already a dark wet patch on the grass beneath him. The entire right side of his body is drenched in black blood…hard to tell if it’s his or someone else's.

Jimin grits his teeth, silently willing the guards to move on. They finally do, pushing further west. You’re practically catatonic in Jimin’s arms, he realizes after finally looking back down at you. Your head is listing to the side, and your eyelids are drooping heavily. Pulling you away from his chest, he realizes bright crimson is coloring your front. He quickly traces the blood, finding the source—a fingers-width-sized knife wound in your right side. He can’t tell how deep it is, but probing with his magick tells him it’s not immediately life-threatening.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook croaks, trying but failing to shift over to you. “Is she okay?”

That is the furthest thing from Jimin’s mind right now. There is only one thing he can focus on. Even though he fears the answer, Jimin forces the words past his lips, “Where is he? Where is Yoongi?”

Jungkook lets out a despairing sob, collapsing back into the grass. Namjoon begins to assess for wounds, tearing away Jungkook’s clothing methodically.

You pitifully grab at the front of Jimin’s shirt, your eyes locking onto his turquoise ones with a fleeting moment of clarity. “T-th-they took him.” 

It’s like a dagger to Jimin’s heart.

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#bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi smut #jimin angst #bts fantasy au #bts fanfiction #yoonig fanfic #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts magic au #bts fae au #bangtanwhq

[fujomod3r]

Thoughts on Fashion Dreamer

Fashion Dreamer is the latest title from syn Sophia, and sort of spiritual sequel to their previous series Style Savvy (Style Boutique in Europe and わがままファシオン / Wagamama Fashion in Japan). The premise of the game is to become a fashion influencer or muse in a virtual world called Eve. This is done by collecting/copying clothing items from other muses (both pre-set NPCs and player created muses encountered via online features) or by unlocking clothing patterns to craft your own items. These items can then be used to create outfits known as Lookits for yourself and other muses. Some muses request specific conditions such as certain colours, styles or items to complement a particular article of clothing. Completing these requests rewards the player with more currencies to unlock and craft more items. Creating lookits and using the rewards to unlock items to create more lookits forms the central loop of the gameplay. Progress, or perhaps more nebulously, your 'success' as an influencer is tracked by how many 'likes' your lookits receive and how many 'followers' you accrue. In reality these are only virtual scores and not related to the online/social features at all.

It's by no means a perfect game, and I want to share my thoughts on what its shortcomings are, but what really prompted me to write this is looking back on the reaction to the announcement trailer. When the game was first announced during a Nintendo Direct, commenters instantly brushed it off as trite and uninteresting, many demanding it be skipped to show off more Mario or just any other game with a more 'masculine' appeal. Similarly, many streamers and youtubers reacting to the Direct mocked or derided the game for seemingly no other reason than it being 'feminine' coded or "for girls" which is extremely disheartening to see. Before the trailer had even shown any gameplay, thousands of commenters had already declared the game worthless. I'm perfectly capable of just dealing with this anti-feminine attitude, but imagine how comments and reactions like these affect the many thousands if not millions of players who are interested in this kind of game? Players with 'feminine' tastes, interests and hobbies deserve to be catered to as much as any other player. It really sometimes feels like some people never mentally matured past 8 years old, recoiling in horror from 'girly' things as an immature assertion of their own masculinity.

I don't expect all players are going enjoy something like Fashion Dreamer. I just like to imagine the world is wide enough for games like it to exist and not be mocked or dismissed outright as though they're intrinsically less worthy than other types of game. Being marketed primarily at people with 'feminine' coded interests isn't inherently a bad thing and it's truly saddening to see how easily people fall into this immature way of thinking.

With that said, Fashion Dreamer isn't perfect!! Far from it. To put it bluntly, the game currently lacks features and activities outside of creating outfits and taking photos. Previous games in the series had narrative arcs for different characters, shopping and restocking, decorating your apartment / boutique as well as activities like going to music concerts. While Fashion Dreamer allows the player to walk around Eve at their leisure, it lacks detail that would make it feel more alive. The differently themed virtual worlds or Cocoons all have the same small set of activities (that is, a photo booth, a makeup stand and gacha machines) and a collection of more or less random NPCs, meaning they end up feeling like different desktop wallpapers rather than different places. The narrative of becoming a fashion influencer is potentially a very interesting topic for exploration, especially given how relevant social media has become in the fashion world. There is also the potential for an exploration of how social media facilitates communication, expression and friendship, whilst at the same time discussing the negative impacts social media can have on people. As it stands, the game feels empty and lacks the charm of its predecessors.

Gone are the unique clothing brands of Style Savvy, with their specialisation in particular styles or items. Every item in Fashion Dreamer either comes from a single generic default brand, or is created by players. Whilst the ability for players to create their own brand is interesting, this too ultimately feels quite shallow. With all items being drawn from the same pool and with limited options for colours (and basically none for customisation such as rolling up sleeves, opening/closing outerwear etc) there's not really much incentive to 'follow' or even collect items from another player's brand. Especially since you can usually unlock the item for yourself with a bit of effort anyway. Creating your own 'brand' in this way is far less rewarding or sasitfying than creating, customising and stocking your boutique store was in the previous games. Some remnants of that feature are present in vestigial form in Fashion Dreamer, namely a custom showroom where players can display furniture, decorations and fashion items, but there's never any reason to visit your own showroom, much less those of other players. You enter the room, spend 15 seconds admiring different colour variants of the same items you have, mutter 'nice' to yourself then leave. It's unfulfilling to say the least.

It's bad enough that the clothing and brands lack personality, but the characters themselves also seem completely dessicated and one-dimensional. Where previous games had characters with distinct personalities and corresponding tastes, the NPC muses in Fashion Dreamer have much less to say and no strong preferences. Their single sentence barks don't give them much flavour and really only serve to remind you of what their 'gimmick' or 'thing' is supposed to be ("I like surfing! Surf's up! Cowabunga! Can't wait to hit the waves man!!"). Their requests for Lookits don't seem unique to their personalities (the surfer dude has asked me twice for formal suits without even trying to lampshade this by explaining why), and so far I've yet to have any muse object to an outfit or item I selected for them. Again, a comparison to Style Savvy highlights what is absent here. In Style Savvy, goth characters would balk at bright colours, characters preoccupied with elegance and sophistication would turn their nose up at distressed denims or graphic printed t-shirts. It's not as though these personalities were particularly deep, but their preferences had to be taken into consideration when recommending or selling items. Requests from muses in Fashion Dreamer on the other hand seem to be essentially random. Building a rapport with customers by talking with them or meeting them out in the town in Style Savvy felt rewarding as it let you learn more about their personality, and so better tailor your fashion recommendations to suit them. The muses of Fashion Dreamer simply repeat the same barks at every level of friendship and have much less to say about themselves or their lives making them and the world they inhabit feel much more shallow.

While Fashion Dreamer does away with having to worry about money limiting your creativity, it instead replaces one currency with 4. Instead of using money from sales to restock your store, the player must now accrue 'likes', 'keys', 'gacha tickets' and 'coins' which are used to craft clothing, unlock new designs or purchase room decorations and single-use photo props (don't ask why the VR flower evaporates after a single VR photo, it just does). The conceit of being in virtual world evaporates quickly and seems to serve mainly to hand-wave away the various abstracted elements of the game world such as the ability to instantly copy outfits and change on the spot. Grinding for these 4 abstract resources feels far less rewarding than seeing the revenue of your Boutique store increase, allowing you to buy flashier styles and splurge on store decorations.

Again I feel the need to stress that this change in focus from running a high-street boutique to being a fashion blogger in the Matrix isn't necessarily bad, but it doesn't do anything interesting with this theme, serving mainly to provide a poor simulacrum of social media 'number go up' dopamine hits. Gaining 'followers' on Fashion Dreamer isn't a reward for effort, it's literally just a numbers game since almost every action in the game rewards you with followers (which is perhaps more realistic than I'm giving it credit for). The actual social features of the game are simplistic but cute, allowing players to 'follow' one another and create or request Lookits for each other based on their multiple-choice answers to 5 simple questions (or totally ignoring that and dressing them like a Splatoon character). However it all feels quite shallow since you never interact directly with other players and so don't get to enjoy show off your unique look.

Finally, while Fashion Dreamer allows you to now create a masculine avatar (an option sorely lacking in the previous games which simply assumed the player to be a girl), the range of fashion options for masculine body types seems a lot smaller than the feminine options. It also doesn't allow masculine muses to wear feminine clothing (shoes, hats and earrings are all considered unisex, but all other clothing items are locked to a single gender) and vice versa. It's a shame to fall down here because the game has clearly made steps to be more inclusive, with a wider variety of options for skin tone, hairstyle and a 2nd gender (Ghee whizz! How come your mom lets you have two genders?). Further, the range of body shapes is still extremely lacking, with a selection of ~10 slim bodies of different heights. Overall, the game shows a real lack of interest in exploring the world of fashion, and nowhere is that more obvious than its lazy emulation of typical body/beauty standards we see everywhere else.

I know I've probably come across really harsh and critical here, but it's only out of a frustration at seeing what a strong basis there is for a game here. The character models and animations are great, and there aren't enough games that provide players like myself with the ability to indulge in playing dress-up for its own sake. Ultimately, I do want to see this game or others like it succeed because I loved Style Savvy and want developers to continue making games that dare to be unapologetically feminine in what they're about and who they're appealing to. I'm just disappointed overall in the lack of polish this particular game has. It honestly feels unfinished which is why I want to hold back from being too harsh.

Do I think this game is worth buying? Not really at the RRP, but if you're interested in some extremely light and somewhat mindless entertainment theorycrafting fits and taking a few cute digital selfies, just be warned that you won't get much else out of it. The soundtrack will start to grate on you as well, so make sure to line up a playlist of your own.

#fashion dreamer #syn sophia #style savvy #girls mode #style boutique #lookit

[celestialmantdonna]

Welcome! I'm Minty (25, any pronouns) and here I write Mantis, mostly MCU-based but with some comic influences. Indie, semi-selective, mutuals only, 20+ muns only. I do not own Mantis, the Guardians of the Galaxy or any MCU characters; they all belong to their respective creators and this is fan content. If we are mutuals don't be afraid to reach out to me to plot, suggest new verses, send me potential scenarios for our muses, etc. This blog is for fun so please be nice!

Rules and guidelines are below the cut. Thank you in advance for reading them! <3

This blog is new and still a WIP.

Mobile links: muse | bio | verses

1. This blog will have SPOILERS! If you want to watch the GotG movies without knowing any spoilers, you might wanna avoid this blog.

2. I do not write with muns under the age of 20. If I can't find your age somewhere on your blog, I will assume you're under 20 and I will not write with you. I'm sure you write really well but it's just a me thing!

3. Do not reblog my OOC posts/threads you are not involved in. Do not reblog my open starters if you are not a rp blog. If you enjoy my writing, I appreciate that! But please, if you're a personal blog, don't reblog anything that is not a gifset/image/fanart. If you do, I will block you. Sorry!

4. Multi-verse and multi-ship. OC & crossover friendly. I am semi-selective, mutuals only.

5. No godmodding. This one's pretty simple. Despite Mantis having the power to control others, she will only use her powers on your muse if your muse agrees or if you and I have discussed it and you are okay with it. Similarly, if your muse can also control others, let's discuss it! Let's see what they can do to Mantis! It's fun to explore their powers, but no actual godmodding.

6. Shipping is fun and we can discuss it but please: no forcing ships and no saying our characters are dating/married without telling me. On a similar note, no saying our characters have a child without discussing it prior. I consider it a form of godmodding, and chances are I'll stop writing with you. Unless I reblog memes about sending in hypothetical kids, don't do that. I'm not saying you cannot do that with your other rp partners if they're okay with that, again it's just a me thing!

7. I am me and Mantis is Mantis. Please separate the two, because I separate the muns from their muses. I want to write and create with you, not help you fulfill some sort of fantasy. I understand we can all use our own emotions and life experiences to put ourselves in a specific headspace to write, but if you're living vicariously through your muse, I'm not the partner for you. Nothing against that, I have a friend who writes self-insert, reader-insert stories and one-shots and my friend is an amazing writer. Don't be discouraged, you'll find the right partner!

8. I don't care whether you use icons or not or whether you occasionally commit typos. I do ask you try to use punctuation at least a little because if not, I will read entire sentences without any sort of pause, with no inflection or sense of pacing whatsoever. I really value creativity and characterization and I myself will, probably, have a typo every once in a while, it's all good, just try to keep a bare minimum of grammar.

9. I will never pressure you to reply to threads so please don't pressure me. If I think you actually forgot to reply I will gently remind you and you can do the same with me. This is supposed to be a fun hobby, let's remember that, yeah? I can be forgetful at times so seriously, remind me. If we're writing together please don't assume I do this because I don't want to write with you. If I'm writing with you it's because I want to and you do as well.

10. No OOC drama. Please. I am here to write and have a good time. In order to interact with me, be constructive when OOC, not destructive. I know we're all human, I understand we all have bad days, but don't be a dick. Be respectful, to me and to anyone else I may be writing with. Don't police who I can or cannot write with, because I won't do that to you. I don't want OOC drama. Give me all the drama between muses though!

#[ pinned. ] #[ out of emotions ] ooc.

[strawberry-barista]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 ? Usually witnessing them in action and then just deciding that I neeed them. Aku was my self-insert, but everyone after that was just this deep and overfull love that I felt for the character and just really wanted to explore them. I... Also seem to have a thing about picking up old men. I dunno, y'all, I collect the old guys. It's a wonder why I never picked up Clavell. But Hanekoma, Byron, Saguaro, Cryano, Souan, and Rindo all got picked up for this reason. Abe was someone I created as a result of wanting to flesh out my Hanekoma's background and just grew from an NPC into his own thing. And as for all the folks over at @networkscrambled, I picked them up because I felt like there were a ton of characters in TWEWY that just didn't get enough love. I need more research to properly flesh the blog out, tho. OTL

𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 ? Mm... Probably just smut. I think that's the biggest thing. And even then, there's stuff there I want to explore even though I don't like it. In some very rare instances I'm willing to go with it, with people I have talked a lot to and really trust. When the situation calls for it and the muses are ready for that step. When it comes most to anything else, I have no trouble. Angst, whump, etc. Oh, but of course, there are the obvious unmentionables things I won't write. Minor x adult, non-con, incest, etc. I won't touch those with a ten-foot-pole. But I feel like those were fairly obvious.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ? I'll be honest, I really enjoy writing ships. Platonic ships, familial ships esp., romantic ships, hate ships. Whatever. I really love exploring the dynamics between two or more characters and seeing how they perceive each other and explore each other and develop together as they grow and change and confront themselves. Character connections is always what gets me hyped for books and tv series and movies and any kind of storytelling and I just really love doing it. I really love writing any kind of genre that can bounce off of those, be it sad or happy. But really, any time I get to write at all is a good time.

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ? Hm. I think I'll take something really small that I notice and then just run with it as far as I can, stretch it out as much as I can until that one thing becomes the foundation of that character. I remember reading a transcript for an interview in which it was explained (roughly, because I can no longer remember), that Hanekoma was designed as a character that was on the up and up but was still messy. Or... something to that effect. I won't use quotations because I can't remember the exact quote, but it was like that. And I also remembered that Hanekoma called himself a gambler. And so using that information, I built Hanekoma as a man who in life had had a gambling addiction that ruined him, but that he was "on the up and up but still messy". And that became an anchor to how I built every headcanon after that. Similarly, I noticed Saguaro was the only teacher to continue to use honorifics with your name (Master or Miss) even after befriending you as well as noticing his insistence on cleanliness, and that was how I decided he was a butler in his past, which then lead to be the foundation of every other headcanon for him. It's admittedly a strange process, but it works for me!

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 ? I write better when I play music, by far, but I almost never do. And this is simply because I forget every single time to start it up before I start writing. And even if I do remember, I usually then go on to pause it to do something and forget to turn it back on. It's the worst.

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 ? I tend to wing them. The only planning I ever do is when I see and read my partner's reply but am unable to reply when I get it. So I spend all of the time until I get to it daydreaming about how I'm gonna respond. I think, as a reactive sort of roleplayer, I just want to be able to feel the emotions of my muse as they're feeling them, going through the reply and feeling how they'll react to it right away. With a lot of pre-planning, I feel like I kind of lose a sense of my character, and it feels more detached, so I can't get those real heavy emotions in my reply. So I think I do wing it as much as possible.

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 ? Oh ho. Oh, yes. I think shipping is like my bread and butter. I did mention that in one of the questions above. All types of ships are all so good to me, and I love love writing them. I have so much fun squishing little guys together in various ways.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬 / 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 ? My name is Kohitsuji, or Kohi for short. When I first joined tumblr I went by Aku, however, so it wouldn't be uncommon to hear someone refer to me by that name. I stopped using Aku because people were confusing me for someone else, but I really like the wordplay between "lamb" and "coffee" for this blog especially, so I'm actually kind of glad I changed it these days. ^^

𝐚𝐠𝐞 ? I'm 29 now, and I'll be turning 30 at the end of this year.

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 ? December 1st.

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 ? I'm not super great with picking favorites, and color especially. I really love colors of all kinds. And I love iridescents and holographics and things like that the most.

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 ? Again, this is difficult for me to pick. I'm pretty sure there isn't a single genre of music I haven't found something to like in. So trying to name ones I like most... I feel like it's impossible, even trying to narrow it into bands. That being said, Sibling brought home two new records and one was Badger and the other was Alexander Rabbit which were both excellent bands.

𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 ? I'm pretty sure the last movie I watched was 101 Dalmatians, the ah, Disney animated version.

𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 ? Forever. I'm still reeling. What a good show.

𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 ? Look Through Me by Alexander Rabbit.

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 ? Anything sweet, really. I'm having such a hard time keeping myself from eating my Easter candy. I really need to stop eating sweets, but. I love them. OTL

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 ? Fall definitely. Autumn, whatever ya call it. I love the spring-like weather without all the pollen coming with it. The beautiful colors of the clear sky and the dappling leaves. I love how the air starts to smell different and how the temps drop low enough for me to start wearing sweaters again. I love the spicy smells that come with fall, from foods to perfumes. I love fall the most, it's very cozy.

𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 ? So many! Well. I worry about calling people my friends and best friends when I don't 100% know for sure that they feel that way about me or would even appreciate me saying that about them. I have a lot of people here that I really really love. And I hope they care about me, too. But I might just stick with a very small number of names that I know for sure they feel the same way. First, there's @mundanemiseries who tagged me in this in the first place~ ^^ Kellin is so so sweet to me and has been such a help to me and I really love their muses. Joel and Hanekoma are so sweet together~ @wrongtrain is another. Morton has been my friend here for such a long time, and they're the one person I feel like can actually unlock my brain to understand what's going on with me most of the time. I never feel quite so understood as I do when I'm talking to Morty. I love them so so much and I love writing with them when they're around to do so, whoever they've got the space for that day. And I would be remiss not to mention @justiceburst, who was one of the first Joshua muns I ever interacted with and soon became my canon Joshua. Dusty may be writing new characters now, but they're no less engaging of a writer and they're still such a close friend to me. I care so deeply for them and everything we've been through together. ^^ Then there's @fangedstories. Roxy has been consistently active with me since meeting me, which is something that still surprises me. XD I'm really grateful to her for putting up with me so much. @lollipopsandgunshots is another. Katee talks to me so much and we've clicked so well together ooc. I love the work we've done with our muses, too, and especially that Katee is one of the few folks that I can actually get ideas for Aku with. ^^ There's also @phoenix-flamed, who has been so kind and caring towards me since the moment we met. I am so grateful to be able to have Vonny to talk to when I need it, though I admit that I don't poke them nearly enough. Still, I have them to thank for Hanekoma's whole FFXVI verse, so they continue to be a big inspiration to me regardless. ^^ And last but not even remotely the lest, @rubiesintherough has become such a dear friend to me. I used to be so afraid of Ruby, wanting to interact and never really knowing if I could stand up to her impeccable writing. But I am so so glad I finally reached out to start talking to her because she's so nice and so fun to talk to and I love all of her muses so so much. I feel like I've been thoroughly blessed with an abundance of friends~!

tagged by: @mundanemiseries tagging: Please steal it from me!

#anonymity annoying me ⤙ooc⤚⚄ #read by someone taken as a good one ⤙dash⤚⚄ #mentioned: rubiesintherough #mentioned: phoenix flamed #mentioned: lollipopsandgunshots #mentioned: fangedstories #mentioned: justiceburst #mentioned: wrongtrain #mentioned: mundanemiseries #long post tw #long tags tw #ask to tag

[beonhwarp]

hello, i had some questions about some of the societal views of beonhwa. with the setting being mixed periods, what are some things that are seen as taboo? (i.e tattoos, homosexuality, swearing, tardiness, etc)

hello, thank you for this question! the answer actually relates back to the previous ask i had in regards to the modern aspects of the rp and au allowing the space for modernized views towards these topics. first and foremost, lgbtq+ muses are very much welcome and are present in beonhwa's society. similarly to how some households are today, though personal beliefs on the matter do exist, there wouldn't be any contempt or disdain towards lgbtq+ muses in society. like the house of mugunghwa, there may be some who adhere to more traditional values, but the expectations of continuing the family bloodline through "traditional means" would mostly be on the heirs. however, any plot lines or development related to these values are entirely up to you! ( any ooc bigotry and prejudice of any kind is strictly prohibited and will not be tolerated. ) i think that with the mixed time periods and aesthetics coming into play, i want to say that tattoos are not very common and would only really be present for any cultural or traditional purposes (i.e. poly/indigenous tribal tattoos). that being said, i've left a lot of different aspects like this open to the possibility of being expanded or introduced to beonhwa were anyone to have a potential muse interested in doing so! since i intended for beonhwa to be a new nation, constantly growing and experiencing firsts, i think it'd be a fun idea to explore an artist who might begin to bring small tattoo art into the mainstream of society. for other matters, it's really up to your discretion. the best way i could describe it would be workplace etiquette. when in public, you want to put your best foot forward and ensure that you look and act presentable ( this is even more prevalent for those associated with the three houses as you are responsible for maintaining the prestige and reputation of your house). but in your private time, amongst yourself or friends, you may allow yourself to become more lax. illicit activities will still be discouraged and heavily scrutinized if found guilty. drug use is generally unheard of and a major taboo, but drinking is a societal norm. however, over drinking that leads to reckless behavior just might earn you a night of confinement at the gladiolus estate.

#bhrp:answered #another long one for the books #i appreciate your patience with me xx

[onewomancitadel]

I would also take antis (and anybody who wants to have a serious conversation about the relationship media and literature have with society) a lot more seriously if they didn't do shit like call Reylo variously incest, paedophilia (Rey is 19 and Kylo is 27), analogy to domestic abuse, etc. Like if you're suddenly defining these things as things that they're actually not, you've lost the ability to talk about actual measureable 'harm' or what are precipitators of 'bad behaviour'.

Like, a girl found 'fanfic' her brother had written about her (this was on Reddit, so it's possible it wasn't real, but the comments were definitely real) and a bunch of people who were upvoted said it was just his 'fantasy' and tried to write it off. It's an extreme example, and even more extreme because it's an online community giving advice, but clearly there is a point where the proshipping position lets up and this is what I'm trying to demonstrate - a family member writing erotic fanfic about his sister is too far and is a serious warning sign. But equally any sort of nuance is lost in the anti debate, and the anti debate wants to move right to censoring AO3 without even knowing the stuff that gets posted on sites with predominantly male userbases. This isn't whataboutism, I think it just demonstrates what their motivations are.

I think about this a lot because I do care about the depiction of ideas in media and literature and how those convey our social concerns... I was musing last night on Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights and how a majority of online discourse surrounding those novels is that the romances are regressive and toxic. Yet to me what is urgently concerning in interacting with those texts is the inseparable racism, from Rochester's imprisoned wife to the racist pseudoscientific physiognomy to Heathcliff's 'dark-skinned gypsy' (it's a slur against Romani people) nature. I don't think that is any reason to discard the texts at all, I just think it's interesting that an urgent issue of moral division focuses on the romance (because that's where the modern 'toxic romance' discourse is interested) rather than the materially concerning things is very, very telling.

Separately with Heathcliff I think it's very interesting that the 'sad white boy' trope of the Byronic hero is really not... a sad white boy trope. Heathcliff is best known as one of the archetypal Byronic heroes and you can't read his relationship to Cathy without being cognisant of the manner of his adoption and the way his physical appearance is married to, and realises, the othering of the Byronic hero in the story (and Cathy's by virtue) and the impossibility of their union and the torture of it. Isn't it telling that a deeply tortured literary figure explores actual... social and physical alienation?

For the record, I'm not a literature major, I've never read any professional criticisms of the Brontës so these are just my impressions. But, it was impossible for me to read the description of Jane's facial features and how those reflected her spirit without thinking of how that contrasted to Rochester's imprisoned wife, Bertha Mason, whose mother was Creole and similarly to Heathcliff is implied to be mixed race (and that her madness is potentially a consequence of this...) That is expressed racism in the text. I'm trying not to 'whataboutism' here, but I think the least of Jane Eyre's problems are really related to Jane getting married.

But that's my problem, like, it's not quite as cool to talk about that because that's not the point being moralised in anti discourse. If your social movement is based upon what is most cool or what is most inciting, when it is no longer cool or inciting it won't matter.

#stirring the pot

[stuckstucktrolls]

odd numbers for the multimuse meme

is there a muse that you wish gets more attention?

Of my trolls, probably my lowbloods. Or if we're meaning ALL muses, more folks interacting with Urbano or Raivo would be nice.

which muse is the trickiest to get into character for?

Probably Dionus (Eldritch Party Boy) mostly just because of what he is and also I just haven't gotten to use him for much of anything. Similarly but not for eldritch reasons, Cerami, and some of my cat youkai.

if you HAD to choose, who’s your least favorite muse?

Answered for trolls but for my non-trolls... Maybe Goro. He's a lil boring.

which one of your muses has the most ships?

*stares loudly at Teagan*

why were you drawn to each one of your characters?

Well, I mean, I made them. But I guess because I could explore something I wanted to explore or a character that kinda showed up with the first one.

is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who?

Not really but I want to figure out some things for my own verse and translate some of my trolls over.

what’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses?

We're not getting to all of them. But Cerami's concept literally came from the saying "Bull in a China shop." There's one I haven't gotten to mention before.

can you sort your muses from youngest to oldest?

Teagan is the oldest in use and the newest is Oxirin. I could probably tell you which ones I came up with relative to others though. Like a whole set that were going to be a game session together were all created about the same time as Teagan, etc.

do your muses get along with each other?

Most of them do not or would not but a few would if they met.

for each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them?

Not really. I don't particularly interact with canons anyway.

which muse is the most problematic towards other muses?

Pterio again. But also Merrosvon, Markab, Lilvie. Takumi could go either way depending how someone interacts with him.

which muses’ fandom do you like the best?

I mean I guess Homestuck since I've been running it the longest, have the most muses for it and the only other "fandom" I have characters for is D&D and that's not even really the same thing. Really at this point those are just ocs I happened to use for D&D. I do have a few fandom ocs but they're from smaller fandoms and I either limit interactions myself or just don't plan to use them so I don't have them on the blog.

which muse do people send the most asks for?

Teagan, but I'll get strings where whoever is new gets the most attention for a bit.

is there a rule that someone keeps breaking for your muses?

Not really? If someone did I'd just block them if it was a major one. Or if it was minor, I'd remind them of it especially if it was the first time. I might make an announcement if a lot of people broke it, but luckily I haven't had to deal with that in a long while.

which muse are you considering deleting?

Not really any of them, but I've been wanting to get away from trolls a bit for a while now. But even if I did that I don't intend to get rid of my trolls completely

#ooc

[loveinterestcastiel]

sursum corda

Part one of a new canon divergent series, “A Sacrament to Be Taken Kneeling”

Summary: the opening dialogue to the eucharistic prayer, or anaphora, translated to english means “lift up your hearts”, and is the beginning of a devout worshipper’s holy communion with god

Canon divergent from 6x22, this one is rated M for religious blasphemy, power dynamics, and mature subject matter (later installments will be rated E for violence, sexual content, and graphic depictions of blood). Honestly this is just a fucked up exploration of the catholicnatural that could have been if the spn writers hadn’t been cowards and had instead really leaned into the whole Godstiel thing, and his dynamic with Dean. I’m going to hell for this and you know what? That’s just fine with me.

It can be read here or in AO3! Enjoy <3

Castiel was brighter than the sun, and he was beautiful. He was the most terrifying thing Dean had ever seen, because somewhere in there, he could still see Cas, the old Cas. He let Crowley go. Dean was going to kill that demon, but- later. Later, when they got out of here and got Sammy put back together.

Then Castiel blew Raphael up with nothing more than a snap of his fingers, and their most formidable adversary, after all these months, was suddenly just a bloody smear on the wall. The last Apocalyptic threat, gone, just like that, leaving Dean and Bobby alone with a Cas-gone-nuclear.

They were so, so fucked.

Cas looked over to Dean, his face softening incrementally but still distinctly smug.

"So you see," he said, turning away from Dean and moving as if to inspect his explosive handiwork, "I saved you."

Dean Winchester is saved.

“You sure did, Cas,” Dean said faintly, drifting further into Cas’s orbit as if somehow compelled. Castiel didn’t acknowledge him, keeping his back turned, his spine ramrod straight. Damage control. Holy fucking shit, damage control right now. “Thank you.”

“You doubted me. Fought against me.” He slowly turned to face Dean, a mockery of their first meeting in that rundown barn years ago, tilting his head the same way, his blue eyes the same limitless color and just as mesmerizing, but somehow about a million times more unsettling. “But I was right all along.”

Dean’s stomach swooped. “Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry,” he added quickly, his breath shallow and shaky. “Now let’s just defuse you, okay?” he suggested, the words cumbersome and heavy in his mouth.

Cas narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. “What do you mean?” he asked icily.

Dean forged on desperately. “You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe, so before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.” Oh, he felt like he was going to be sick. Please, Cas, please just listen to me…

“Oh, no, they belong with me,” Cas countered, his tone almost patronizing, like he was speaking to a child.

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted before his brain or his fear could catch up to him. “It’s- it’s scrambling your brain.”

“No, I’m not finished yet,” he said firmly, with the ghost of a cold smile tugging on his features. “Raphael had many followers, and I must-” Cas paused, choosing his words, “punish them all severely,” he finished deliberately.

Bobby’s eyes darted over to Dean. He was visibly horrified.

Okay. One last effort. Okay.

Dean shoved down his fear and tried again. “Listen to me.” He stepped closer to Cas, swallowing hard as his voice fought to stick in his throat and looking steadily into his eyes. “Listen- I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family, once,” he pleaded. “I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times.” Castiel’s face remained impassive but Dean continued. “So if that means anything to you- please,” he begged, abandoning his pride. “I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too.”

Castiel wrenched his eyes away from Dean’s and cast his gaze down to the floor between them. Was he considering it?

“You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas,” he tried to reason. “Get rid of it before it kills us all.”

A beat.

“You’re just saying that because I won,” Cas mused, raising his gaze back up to look at Dean again, pinning him there like a specimen under a microscope. “Because you’re afraid . You’re not my family, Dean,” he said, closing the remaining distance between them until he stood less than an arm’s reach away, positively radiating power, the air vibrating with it. “You’re just… human.”

His eyes lingered on Dean’s face, tracing his freckles, his eyelashes. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. Castiel’s face hardened into stone, his next words iron. “I have no family.”

The words rang in Dean’s ears, banging about his brain and battering it into despair. It felt like a small death, his heart pulling on his ribs as he floundered for a new angle to pursue.

And then Sam was there, behind Castiel, and he just stabbed him with an angel blade, and Cas was swaying just a bit with the blade still stuck in his back as Sam gasped for air behind him, clearly distressed and stumbling backwards.

Dean froze, horrified.

What the FUCK were you thinking, Sam?

But- oh. Oh god.

Cas wasn’t dead. It didn’t work. His brain buzzed blankly with a static-y sensation of bewilderment as Cas reached around himself and pulled out the blade- shiny, clean, utterly free of blood- with an alarming squelching noise.

"I'm glad you made it, Sam," Cas said in a distressingly level voice, placing the newly-extricated angel blade on the table in front of him before turning to glance at Sam. “But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore,” he said, matter-of-fact as could be, as if he hadn’t just dropped yet another massive bomb on their lives. Sam looked to Bobby, his eyes wide, and Bobby shrugged back minutely, similarly floored.

Look at me, Cas, leave Sammy alone, you’ve done enough-

As if he heard Dean’s thoughts- fuck, was he praying?- Castiel turned back to Dean and met his eyes. “I’m your new God,” he said, with an air of authority and immense self-satisfaction permeating his words. “A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”

Bobby’s eyes widened in the periphery of Dean’s vision as time seemed to swirl and slow down to a crawl- clearly, he hadn’t expected this either.

Sammy was strung out and swaying on his feet behind Cas, his eyes darting and rolling over the room as he rode out the hellish things that tormented him in his head, seemingly incapable of reacting to the gravity of the situation as what Cas had done put him out of his mind with fear.

In the span of a heartbeat, Dean made his choice. He had no choice.

He fell to his knees.

The crack of bone on hard tile was near agony. His gun clattered uselessly to the ground beside him as he shifted his gaze to land somewhere around the hem of Castiel’s coat. He couldn’t look at his face. Couldn’t meet his eyes. It was almost impossible to believe the terrifying figure before him was once his closest friend, and had saved him from Heaven and Hell alike before he had turned into whatever this was.

His throat was dry. He forced himself to swallow, drawing his tongue over his bottom lip as he tried to find the right words.

Bobby started to kneel, too. Survival instincts, probably. He’d have never gotten this old without them, anyway.

“My lord,” he began hesitantly.

The new God waved his hand dismissively at the title. “Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean corrected himself. Great start, you fuck up. “Cas, I swore my obedience to Heaven, once. To God, and his angels. To you,” his voice cracked as he risked a glance at the former angel. His eyes were like fire. Glowing. Unreal.

Bobby interrupted: “Dean, no-”

But Castiel snapped up a hand, palm out, and Bobby’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. “You will be silent,” Castiel ordered, his eyes never leaving Dean. He looked intrigued by Dean’s sudden compliance and admission. “I’d like to hear what you have to say, Dean. What can you possibly say to justify your lack of faith in me up until now? I could have cast you back into the pit, and Sam, too, had I not done this, all of it, for you.”

“I know you did, Cas,” Dean said. “Thank you. I- thank you. You were right, about everything, and I should have listened to you. I was wrong. I should have trusted you.” The words tasted like poison in his mouth. A part of him meant it. A part of him was just desperate enough to say anything. The rest of him wanted to see the cold monster in front of him dead. But how could he turn back now, without sentencing them all to death? If he played his cards right, he might even be able to save Castiel. Surely if he could get him to let go of those souls, he’d start to see reason, would be Cas again. But he was getting ahead of himself. Gotta think a little more short-term, right now. Band-aids and duct tape, not trauma surgery.

“I was blind,” Dean said, “and proud. I took you for granted, and I can do better. Be better. For- for you.”

He had never felt so weak. Groveling to his dad was different. He was his dad’s son, sure, but there was no love there. It was all survival, clinical, even his rage and his fists when Dean didn’t do enough to earn his mercy were detached. Duty and discipline and disappointment. This was different. It was hot with near-tears, messy and filled with grief for a man who wasn’t even dead. He wasn’t lying earlier when he told Cas he was like a brother to him. It was the closest comparison he had for what the angel was to his heart. He had never needed anyone like he needed Castiel- because he wasn’t Sammy, or Bobby, or Lisa, or Ben, or Cassie, or any other category of need. He was just Cas. And Dean wanted him in his life. Or he used to, anyway.

“I don’t know what I can do to make it right between us, Cas,” he said, his throat tightening slightly. “But I want to,” Dean offered, looking down in shame. “I want to be-” he choked out.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asked, taking another step forward, the very picture of authority and control. One more step and Dean could reach out and touch him. The air was electric, heady with power as it positively radiated from his body.

He lifted his head to meet Castiel’s eyes in a pose of supplication, his knees aching, his eyes burning with tears as the situation started to overwhelm him. “I want to be forgiven,” he gasped out. “Cas, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive us.”

“And Sam’s betrayal?” Castiel inquired, casting new fear into Dean’s heart. “He stabbed me in the back. And he has not knelt as you have. Why should I offer him mercy?” he mused.

“Look at him, Cas,” Dean said quietly. Sam was hunched over on the floor in the corner, holding his head in his hands, rocking slightly into the wall and pushing off of it again in a strange repetitive motion. “He can’t follow any of this. I don’t think he even knows where we are. It’s been getting worse as time passes. He was slightly more coherent an hour ago, but-” Dean shook his head. “I think he was just trying to protect me. I don’t think he even knew who you were, just- saw a threat and tried to take it out.”

Cas made a noncommittal little noise, glancing over to where Sam had retreated.

“Cas,” Dean said, drawing his attention back to himself. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Can you try to forgive him that?” he pleaded as the first tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

“And in return?”

“Anything,” Dean swore. “Just- Cas, please. I’ll do anything. I will, I swear it. Just please help Sammy.”

“It won’t be as easy as you think,” Castiel warned. “I want your trust, Dean. I want the bond we once had, and your submission to my better judgement, untainted by your... fear.” His voice turned hungry, reminiscent of when they worked that killer Cupid case last year and it turned out to be Famine. To be on the receiving end of desire of that magnitude was by turns exhilarating and horrifying. “I want your love.”

“Cas,” Dean said faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from his friend’s face even as Bobby attempted to fight his holy gag order from his place next to him. “I… I’ll try. For you,” he added, trying to add a note or resolve to his voice as his thoughts roared in fear and grappled with the idea, stuck on the precipice of this terrible new unknown he had run up against. But he truly had no choice. Sink or swim.

“I swear, Cas,” he said, raising his hand to his heart, “I’ll try.”

Castiel’s eyes softened. They stopped glowing.

Suddenly, for a moment, he looked just like himself. More than that, he looked heartbreakingly human.

He moved suddenly, sending Dean’s heart sprinting again for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

But he didn’t hurt him. He didn’t hurt Sam, or smite Bobby, or engage in any sort of holy wrath. He just kneeled, in front of Dean, and clasped his clammy hands briefly in his own warm, dry ones before shifting them both to his right hand and raising his right palm to Dean’s cheek, his eyes darting over his features with an air of disbelieving gratitude. It was so...

Castiel had lovely hands, Dean noticed. Strong, soft, and broad, with a gentle grip and long, agile fingers. So different from Dean’s own hands, already scarred from the last few years of wear and tear since his resurrection. Of course, he’d noticed before. Noticed that sort of thing about Castiel, how he used his hands to fight, to pray, to eat and to comfort, how they looked drenched in blood and how they looked at rest. How they looked striking a blow to his own face, and how they looked when he healed him. They were one of a million things Dean knew about him better than he knew himself.

“Oh, Dean,” he said softly, “That’s all I ask of you. Just try. Lift up your heart to me, and I will give you everything.”

Dean inhaled sharply, his chest tight as he leaned into the touch. "It's yours," he breathed out, "It's all yours, Cas."

Castiel smiled, and the world fell away.

Tagging in some people who I think might be interested, just dm me to be added or removed: @castieljew @dependsupon @autisticandroids @sunforgrace @heller-jensen @lateral-org @cactuscas @adhdeancas @icaruscastiel @holmesemrys @evermorecastiel @yana125 @faithcastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @i-sing-for-me @whatevr-4evr @sonder-stars @jeanne-de-valois

#destiel #castiel #dean winchester #deancas #my fic #destiel fic #ao3 link #a sacrament to be taken kneeling series #astbtk series #godstiel #this is all catholicnatural baby #catholicnatural #dm me to be added to/removed from tags #inspired by a castieljew post #castieljew #dependsupon #autisticandroids #sunforgrace #heller-jensen #lateral-org #cactuscas #adhdeancas #icaruscas #holmesemrys #evermorecastiel #yana125 #faithcastiel #good-things-do-happen-dean #i-sing-for-me #whatevr-4evr

[thedreadvampy]

Like not to get discoursey but. I think there's a difference between the use of language to describe and explore your personal experience of your gender and sexuality vs the use of language to describe and define large community groups and classes. by which I mean there's a difference between eg taking about your personal connection to lesbianism and saying Lesbians Are X

like. the personal is experiential. the communal is material. and I think a lot of (very tedious) LGBTQ discourse is about people treating them as interchangeable. when we're talking about. oppression and social dynamics. the primary driver is how you're understood by others (and how the fear of how you will be understood by others affects your behaviour). that doesn't mean there's no place to speak about your own messy experience with idea and identifiers that you maybe feel partially, or invisibly, or that speak to your complex experience of self.

like. exploring parts of your identity is a really vital part of being queer imo. it's one of the beautiful things about this community. to be able to try on different hats or say I'm a bit this but a bit that, to question and to say 'look I know this might not make sense but it's true for me' and to be messily complex in your understanding of who you are and what you want. but like. that's a discussion About You that's for you and your friends and the people who know you and love you. and the problem imo is that the nature of social media is such that musing about and claiming your own identity vs discussing community issues are the same forum.

like the thing is saying "I feel bi but also lesbian? like I think my deal is that I'm a bi lesbian?" kind of. Makes perfect sense to me on a personal level. I also waver back and forth on my relationship to lesbianism. similarly I definitely know lesbians who still consider themselves lesbians (or lesbian-with-an-exception) as a personal identity but who are dating men bc their partners transitioned and they found they still wanted to be with them, or men who consider themselves lesbians bc their identity has been so tied up with lesbianism before they realised they were men. and like I'm not a lesbian and I'm not trans and I'm not here to litigate whether that's right or wrong, largely because tbh it Just Is. Like regardless of the philosophical implications, sometimes the truth of how someone feels about their identity at their core is just. Messy. And often contradictory. And part of coming to terms with that involves having the space and words to acknowledge it, and to acknowledge the messiness and contradictions in it.

but on a community level, ehhhhhhh like lesbian is specifically a term used politically and socially to describe the material reality of being a woman who loves women and doesn't have a desire for a relationship with men. and when you say "lesbians can be attracted to men!!!!!" or "men can be lesbians!!!!" there is a shrinking linguistic space to define the specific experience of Being A Woman Only Liking Women. which is a meaningful social and political category distinct from Man Who Likes Women or Bisexual Woman.

the thing is that sexuality and gender labels are, by their nature, extremely broad. like we're talking about labels that describe millions or tens of millions of people. they're not going to capture everyone's experience perfectly and without exception. community labels are indicative, they're describing a simplified core experience and for any given group identity (LGBTQ or otherwise) there will be people who match it up perfectly and people who are. out on the blurry edges of the term. but who sufficiently identify with the core concept to find it a relevant term. that doesn't mean the label needs to constantly shift to be specific to Them, The Person Using It. Any time a term is describing more than one person there absolutely will be parts of some group member's identity that don't fit perfectly in the boundaries of it, aspects of the assumed experience that are either missing or different or too small or too large to fit. but that doesn't mean the label is wrong, it just means human experience and identity is infinitely complex. Identity isn't a box, it's a cluster range. and it's frustrating to not be able to talk about what resonates and what doesn't in any given terminology without it being taken as a statement on How That Term Should Be Defined To Fit Me, Personally.

like irl I have a lot of conversations about how I feel about my personal relationship to queerness, to bisexuality, to lesbianism, to butchness, to dykery, to asexuality, to heterosexuality, to cis womanhood, to nonbinary womanhood, to traditionally gay male and trans female forms of expression and language. like it's Messy but it's also rich and valuable and honest. but I generally. steer clear of that on here bc when you talk about it online, in an open forum, every personal statement is taken as a general proclamation. and we get into Who's Allowed To Talk About What and Whose Label Is Whose and it's all. fuckin. Discourse about What The Rules Are. it's just. frustrating.

[adelaidedrubman]

Pluto for Jessie and Venus for Jenna?

thank you kate, these were really good ones for them!

𝟏𝟎.   𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐎   ! (   𝗌𝗒𝗆𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌   :   transformation,   power,   death,   rebirth,   evolution.   )

what   does   ‘ power ‘   mean   to   your   muse   ?   and   how   important   is   it   to   them   ?   is   death   something   that   frightens   them   ?   how   do   they   handle   death   ?   do   they   believe   in   reincarnation   ?   rebirth   doesn’t   necessarily   mean   dying   and   being   reborn   as   another   person   or   thing,   it   can   also   mean   something   as   simple   as   changing   something   drastic   about   themselves,   so   do   they   believe   a   person   can   truly   change   ?   transform   their   flaws   and   be   reborn   as   a   better   person   ?

jessie associates power most strongly with personal freedom — her greatest resentments towards those more economically (or otherwise, but money is her primary fixation) privileged than her come from her envy of the freedom money grants rather than any materialistic aspirations. she would gladly continue living with no bedframe and a cupboard full of easy mac if it meant she could be free to explore the studies, work, and hobbies she really wants. similarly, she doesn’t like being tied down by interpersonal relationships and commitments. in that vein, power over her own life is extremely important to jessie and something she aspires to. she’s extremely resistant to anyone trying to exercise any amount of authority over her. her having power over others is less important to her, although she can be prone to the occasional power trip and domineering behavior, but it’s most often retaliatory.

she definitely has a lot of anxiety around and preoccupation with death. i think it’s fair to say jestiny “what if instead of taking a moment to have a quick vent with this nice ally of mine who disclosed to me she also recently lost a parent i deal with my grief over losing my mother and the sinking realization i won’t be home in time to bury her by having a panic attack over a dead combatant i didn’t really know and demanding my greatest nemesis meet me to hold a funeral for him and thus symbolically my mother” rook doesn’t deal with death well. she is frightened of it, she doesn’t believe in any kind of afterlife and being faced with death means being faced with how empty her life has been and how much she’s wasted it. and she feels very guilty about the number of deaths she considers herself responsible for and her inability to grant people dignity or comfort in death.

jessie definitely doesn’t believe in reincarnation in the traditional sense, but she does hold out hope that people can change and improve themselves, because she certainly wants to be a better person and genuinely hopes it’s not too late to fix her life. but she’s not going to go to therapy or anything about it.

𝟎𝟒. 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒   ! (   𝗌𝗒𝗆𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌   :   attraction,   love,   relationships,   art,   beauty,   harmony.   )

what   is   your   muse ’ s   opinion   on   love  ?   what   are   they   like   in   a   relationship   ?   both   good   and   bad.   what   do   the   seek   for   in   a   relationship   ?   what   type   of   people   are   they   attracted   to   ?   could   be   romantically,   sexually,   or   even   spiritually   ?   do   they   seek   someone   similar   to   themselves   or   someone   vastly   different   ?   what   does   beauty   mean   to   them   ?   do   they   associate   the   word   with   appearances   ?   souls   ?   what   does   the   word   ‘ harmony ‘   mean   to   them   ?

jenna is a big believer in “love is a neurochemical con job” — but also that everything else we know and experience is too, so it’s as good as anything else to organize your life around, she supposes. she can be hard to gage in relationships, she’s never really overly sentimental about love but also surprisingly stable — if a relationship is working, she’s not going to find a reason to fuck with it or introduce drama, and she is within reason receptive to whatever terms her partner wants to set to feel comfortable, although she’s not willing to change much about herself. the primary things jenna looks for in a relationship are comfort, companionship, support, and acceptance.

in terms of people she’s attracted to, jenna is drawn to women who are intelligent and thoughtful, although it doesn’t have to necessarily be the same type of intelligence she possesses. and in that regard, jenna is drawn to people with certain underlying similarities but would not be interested in settling down with anyone too similar to her. she loves new perspectives and wants to experience the world with someone who gives it a sense of novelty and who challenges her

jenna associates beauty most strongly with uniqueness and variety, be that in physical appearance or more intangible qualities. she’s big on attention to detail and when she’s really infatuated with someone, she focuses on all the little unique qualities that set her partner apart from the crowd. to her harmony means balance, her ideal relationship is one where differences work to make both people more well rounded and effective in their individual strengths.

#oc: deputy jestiny ellen #oc: jenna swann

[pens-swords-stuff]

I’ve been having a really hard time writing since COVID-19 was declared a pandemic. Do you have any advice on how to keep making art and creating when things get rough (and, admittedly, kind of scary)?

It’s definitely a really uncertain and scary time for everyone all over the world. For all of the writers who are quarantined, I’m sure the thought of using the time to write something have crossed their minds.

I have a few suggestions that you might try out!

Set yourself up for success

Since many people are stuck at home, it is really easy to get really lazy and stay in pajamas all day. Go about your normal get-ready-for-the-day routine to prepare yourself for writing!

If that means dressing up nicely, go for it. Dress up for yourself, even if no one else sees it — you deserve it! If you want to put on a full face of makeup, do it. If you want to dress in your workout clothes to get you pumped up, do it.

Set up and clean your work space. Pick a spot to be your ‘office’, and arrange it so that you have everything you need there. You want to be focused, and not have to get up every so often to grab something you need. Make it welcoming, and a place you’d want to work at. Maybe light a candle if that’s your thing, turn on your writing playlist or get some rain noises going, grab a glass of water and a snack.

Set up a schedule for yourself! Pick a time that you want to write everyday, and stick to it. It could be a solid 2 hour block of time, it could also be 15 minutes — whatever works for you. Use your designated writing time to brainstorm, to outline, to write, to do writing sprints... It’s your time to be creative and productive!

Basically, try making a ritual for getting ready to write, so that your mind and body will anticipate working. Discipline is key for making steady progress, and it’s also a great way to break up the monotony of staying at home all the time feeling bad. Give yourself something to look forward to and work towards.

Lean into your current feelings

We’re going through a really rough time right now, and because so many things are out of control, it can be really hard to deal with mentally. 

Writing is a fantastic outlet for something like that! Take your feelings, and bleed it all over the page —maybe your character is going through a similar nervous feeling, maybe they’re also stuck somewhere, maybe there’s something similarly hanging over their heads that they don’t know how to deal with. If you wanted to, you could even write a pandemic plot or something.

You know exactly what that’s like right now. You know how scary that is, and how weirdly monotonous our current situation is while it feels like everything else is spiraling out of control. It’s okay to feel those things, and it’s okay to express them on the page. You could take advantage of that channel it directly into your writing.

Distract yourself with something completely different

Maybe you would rather not focus on what you’re feeling and write about it. That’s okay too! Instead, you could go the other direction and write something completely different so you can think about something else for a bit.

It’s okay to go really self-indulgent! Enjoy yourself — write out all of your guilty pleasure tropes, go write that one scene you’ve been excited for, go develop that minor character and let them become a main character.

You could allow your writing time to be your break from reality. Writing is supposed to be fun right? Let yourself have that fun! Do everything you want to, so you can enjoy your writing time! By focusing all of your energy on writing, it can give you a much-needed reprieve from all of the chaos that’s going on right now. 

Explore other media

It’s really easy to get stuck in writing, especially if you’re stuck at home.

This is a fantastic time to read that book you’ve been wanting to read for months but never had the time. What about that TV show your friend has been begging you to watch? Try picking up a video game that you’ve never played. Make a list of movies you want to watch, and try to get through all of them!

You never know where you might find inspiration! Have low expectations for finding your muse, but leave yourself open to the possibility as you experience other creative projects.

Talk to other writers

You’re not the only person going through this right now. There’s an entire community of writeblrs here on the website that are going through similar things, and want to write. Reach out to them! DM your favorite writeblr, send them an ask, join a Discord community. You can support each other through this, and you might be inspired or motivated alongside everyone. They might have other advice for you, you could vent about your feelings with them, you could keep each other on track with your WIPs, tell them about your projects and read about theirs.

Writing doesn’t have to be a lonely craft, you have an entire community waiting to get to know you. It’s okay to reach out for help! Someone will be there to take your hand. You don’t have to be on your own, and this could be the start of a beautiful friendship!

Take a break

Your mental and physical health will always be more important than writing. If you’re too stressed or scared to write, you don’t have to. It’s okay to shelve your writing for a bit, and focus on yourself. If writing is proving to be too difficult and stressful, take a breather. You don’t need to force yourself to write if it’s just not happening.

Take a break, explore some other media, and be kind to yourself until you’re ready to write again. Your own mental and physical well-being comes first.

Be safe, be healthy, and take care of yourself. Good luck!

I now have an updated FAQ and Ask Guidelines for Writing Advice, please check those out first if you have a question about writing or Writeblr!

Ask Guidelines | FAQ | Advice Masterlist

#writing #writeblr #writing advice #writing help #writing tips #undine gives advice #coronavirus #Anonymous

[faemoria]

                                           materxnatura  ,  if no one has suggested this yet.

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you the following;

my opinion on;

character in general  :

seraphina exists on the long list of characters that have so much potential but so little follow through in their canon  .  which is fine  ,  really  ,  because then you get people like samcat who pick them up  &&  run away with them  .  what we do get to see of seraphina in the books is undoubtedly fascinating  &&  pretty neat  (  mostly  )  .  i like her role as a neutral force  ,  opposing the guardians being a force of ‘ good ’  while pitch is a force of ‘ evil ’ .  i just think it’s a little odd how young/immature it seems like she’s supposed to be in canon since she’s  .  .  .  well ‘mother’ nature  .  maybe i’ve just gotten to used to how samcat  (  &&  our other friend sasha  )  have portrayed her over all these years  .

how they play them  :

samcat is my partner in crime in grabbing one of the few female characters from this series that had like . . . three lines of dialogue  &&  just going batshit crazy with them for 9 years now  .  if you have a question about samcat’s portrayal of sera  ,  i can practically guarantee that she will be able to answer it  ,  either because she’s thought of it already  ,  or because she is so used to stepping into the character’s shoes that she can figure it out on the spot  . moreover  ,  i adore that samcat has kept that neutral element to seraphina’s character  ,  while also exploring some of the deeper aspects that her character allows for  ,  such as exploring parenthood  (  what makes a good person vs what makes a good mother  )  ,  the ways we cope with trauma  &&  humanity’s relationship with the planet it lives on  .

the mun  :

once again  !  this mun is one of my best friends !  i think samcat’s blog was one of the first that i followed when i made tooth’s back in 2012  &&  i still remember being so in awe  &&  giddy when she followed back because i was a little star struck  . honestly i still feel a little star struck talking to samcat after all these years  ,  just because she’s the sort of person you can’t help but admire  .  she’s also one of the strongest people i know  ,  though i wish life didn’t require it of her as often as it has  . anyways i can’t wait to visit her in a few weeks  &&  make her cry over anime  .

do i;

follow them  :

yes  !  another one of the first blogs i tend to follow when i make a new one  .

rp with them  :

yes  &&  it is a blessing  .

want to rp with them  :

i am always down for even more threads between this gay bird  &&  tree  .  or any of samcat’s other characters  !  she writes them all so well  .

ship their character with mine  :

/drags my hands down my face/ i have so many dumb feelings about seraphina x tooth it’s embarrassing  .  so usually when i get too worked up about it i make them a playlist or something lol  .  i just think they provide so much good to each other in practically every verse we throw them in  .  also what’s sexier than two wives who are both willing to kill for the other one  . i also appreciate the sort of cynical mentorship toothiana has with nahia  .  i always like the opportunities for tooth to interact with children because it is so fun to explore the ways that she is  &&  is not good with them  . let’s see . . . similarly we have a sort of mentorship idea going on between aqua  &&  nahia which  ,  again  ,  would love to explore more  .  nahia practically belongs in the kingdom hearts universe with how full of light she is  . &&  aqua has adopted seraphina as her mom  ,  no take-backsies  .

what is my  ;

overall opinion  :

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty. i mostly just want an excuse to say nice things about you && your muses .

                             @alivingdarkness​​  &&  @materxnatura​​          send me a url  .

#[ oh boy it's hard not to ramble for 80 years about my friends ] #» ทั่วไป ; Ask Meme | let me say nice things about you && your muse #» โลกีย์ ; Out of Character #alivingdarkness #materxnatura #gif //

[royalreef]

      “ 𝐻𝓊𝓏𝓏𝒶𝒽! ” There’s officially 400 of you following my dear fish princess! When I started this blog, I never thought I would’ve gotten this far, but this community has been so welcoming and supportive. It’s truly been a joy to write with everyone, and I never would’ve gotten here if it weren’t for all of you encouraging me and my writing. Writing an underappreciated character, and especially with the amount of my canon divergence, brought me to always assume that I’d have a much smaller audience for it - and I’m glad to say that I’ve been proven wrong! 

But really, I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near where I am today without the sheer amount of creativity and talent already present in the rpc. Every day I am blown away by the sheer amount of work that is being put into blogs and muses both, and every day I am awestruck at the replies that I read! And you’ve been there through thick and thin, so I think it’s about time I give a little back and show my appreciation.

          👑 The Low Royals

For those of you who have been with me the longest, who have seen the growth and fine-tuning, and even potentially helped me shape this blog into what it is now - I raise a glass to you! You’re all my good friends, and I can thank none of you enough. I truly do appreciate and care for all of you, though I might be bad at saying it. You’ve all made me laugh, and cry, and feel ten thousand other emotions, and I can only hope to support all of you the same as you’ve supported me.

Tam / @necrodanger / @ruiincd / @rebeljest : You have been here from the beginning, and for that, you are the first upon this list. Where would I be without your help? When my Miranda first started interacting with your Val, much like the princess not knowing how deeply she’d fall in love with the pauper, I did not know how such a wonderful friendship would grow between us. You have been through Hell together with me, and though I may stumble, I trust you. Your companionship has been crucial to so much here, and I can only hope that I have helped you grow as much as you have helped me. You are irreplaceable in your talent and creativity, and you know I look forward to everything you write, all that you draw, and every day that I get to chat with you over Discord. I can never thank you enough, and I am truly in your debt!

Jeremy / @grave-risen / @lioncovrte / @covenwtch / @amalgaemate : Jerm!!! Gosh, what praises can’t I sing of you and your excellent muses? Your characterization is spot on - there’s just such a warmth that you breathe into all of the characters you handle. They truly take on a life of their own in such a special way, with all the unique pitfalls and challenges that come with them! You have such fine little details that I love to see in each individual personality and your devotion to detail is to be admired. Likewise, you’re someone who I know I can trust, as that warmth truly spreads over into you yourself, and you’re just such a welcoming and genuine friend that I know I can just vibe with without any pressure. I really do love the plots we’ve done so far, and really look forward to seeing how Brian and Miranda handle becoming friends again. I may tease about him being a snack, but you know I’m here for all of the emotional curveballs you can throw at me!

Shorp / @pasttorn : I might be bad at chatting you up recently - but as always, you know I adore your Damien and all of the drama that he can cause! He’s a shit-stirrer of a muse, and you know I love the way you write, which together is just a perfect combination for a great time! You’ve also been around a bit longer in the rpc so you’ve seen some shit, and you’ve seen me reboot this blog and remake my lore. And for that, for sticking through as I went completely off the rails, I think that’s a pretty good summary of you! Chill, supportive, and sweet, a good pal all around to just vibe with and have some fun creative blends with!

Lola / @monstersmashed : AH... Oh, how Miranda loves her Marcus, and how I adore all the OCs you make! What kind of talent is it to be able to make so many unique OCs and have them all be so individual in such a way that really shows the quirks that makes each and every one special, and where can I get some of that? I remember Junie when she was much, much newer in the rpc, and I swear my adoration for what you can do with an interesting concept has only grown!! I sincerely love plotting with you and working out how your darlings can interact with my three disasters, and just absolutely a good friend all around.

Oli / @mindsmelded : OLI! I know you’re inactive right now (and honestly, I don’t blame you) but I GOTTA give you my love too! Every single reply from you just gets me EXCITED to read, with how you handle your muses! There’s just a passion and a flow to your prose that I love, and I truly admire how you can detail out exactly how each muse thinks in such a unique style that, even if you didn’t give a name or pronouns, you know EXACTLY which muse is responding! I admire you for that, and really that’s such a valuable skill that I want to master in my own writing too! You’re overall just such a supportive sweetheart who I can trust to talk to, and expect plenty of wholesome memes in return as a pick-me-up!

        👑 The Middle Royals

Here is to all who I roleplay regularly with, but maybe don’t chat up as often as I’d like on Discord or through messages, or maybe just haven’t known as long as others. You have such excellent characters that I love to see interact with my fish princess, and I can’t wait to talk to you more! Some have budding relationships with your muse and Miranda that I can’t wait to see blossom into something complex and special all on their own, but all have just wonderful muses who I highly recommend you give a follow if you haven’t already! There’s a truly special amount of care being put into their writing, and I cannot recommend them enough.

Raz / @superbeaucoupdevisages : Honestly I didn’t expect to start to ship Oz and Miranda, but, WHELP, it happened!!! And I’m glad it did, honestly, because these two? Cute. Very cute!! With a whole lot of potential for angst and lore-exploring too! And really, I’m looking forward to it, because the way you write is simple and concise, which leaves it wonderfully IMPACTFUL. It’s short, sweet, and hits right where it hurts!! Which could honestly be said the same as you, as you know how to make your ideas known in as few words as possible. You know how to be there without the need for pretense, and sometimes you really do need someone to be there to get to the heart of issues, and for that, I thank you!

Hannah / @ciiclops / @bingemuscs : Probably the odd one out here as we have known about each other for quite a while, predating my reboot, but we’ve only recently really gotten around to chatting, which is a SHAME. I love just being able to infodump with you about my lovely, lovely arachnids, and Iris has always been such a charm to interact with!! I can’t wait to see how she might interact more with Miranda and how they might get along, as I’m really just a sucker for nerd and prep friendships (or maybe even something more) !!!

Zac / @collectathon : Can I just say that I’m super excited for your Zoe muse already? There’s so much to get into still, and she’s pretty new in terms of Miranda’s interactions, but I can’t WAIT to see what happens! Especially with all the ties Miranda has to the eldritch... Plus, I know to go to you for a good time, and I don’t think I’ll get over Miranda trying to frame Scooby Doo for arson anytime soon! You’re a wonderful friend with such a passion that I look forward to talking to more!

June / @preparetodie​ / @fullofschmidt​ : Is it bad to say I genuinely didn’t think much of Aaravi until I found your blog? Because I kinda did! But you have taught me to appreciate and love this fiesty AND VERY SAD slayer in a way I never have before, with such introspections on her character that I haven’t even thought about before recently! Similarly, your Vicky? STUNNING. She’s special in her own way, and honestly I can’t wait to discover more about her. Likewise, I’m looking forward to both of them learning more of Miranda’s specific secrets, and all of the fun turmoil that comes with that! (Plus, your art? So lovely!!! I might just have to commission you sometime!)

Hari / @warraigoe : I love! Your Damien! He’s honestly really funny, and sometimes even I can forget how lighthearted the actual tone of Monster Prom can be - so I think having something a little lighter is really good! Certainly, Miranda appreciates it, pfft! Your passion for writing really comes through, and I gotta say I really admire you going the extra mile to really get people similarly excited for something too! You’re someone who I really would like to chat and write with more often, if only my energy could pan out, because you’re honestly just that interesting! Good vibes, great times all around!

Josie / @galaxietm : We haven’t gotten the chance to write much together yet, but the amount of excitement I get from being able to write with you in the future is telling as to the quality that I’ve observed so far! You really do have just a smooth, chill demeanor to you that I can’t help but get really excited to be able to plot with you, and from what we’ve been able to do so far, it’s been looking really promising for things-to-come with Vera and Miranda! And from what I’ve seen of your prose? Similarly silky-smooth, flows as easy as a river, and just really something that I can’t wait to see more of, along with getting to know you more!

Nigel / @1-0-1-9 : YOU!!! Us meeting on Twitter was such a lovely chance meeting, and your friendship truly was a great birthday gift! I don’t show near as much love to your muse as I wish I did, because gosh you really do care about him and it shows! You’re someone who I could chat with all night though, and you bring up so many things I haven’t quite thought of yet! I really do appreciate having someone there who I can bounce ideas off of regularly, and you’re just excellent for that. You say you’re a dog in a human’s body, and tbh? I absolutely believe that with just how friendly you are!

Mori / @roskaarotta : Molly is one of those OCs who I can just immediately pick out as one of my favorites, with the amount of care you’ve gone into in making her! Your writing with her is a lot like how I see your art with her - absolutely soaked in a killer atmosphere that you can’t get anywhere else. I love how you took demons/angels and put a bit of yourself into them, and the character drama you write is to die for! I love hearing all of Molly’s backstory and really get a grasp of her personality, and you KNOW Miranda loves her Raccoon Wife!!

Rilli / @empatheticxangel / @marquisxofxlove : Speaking of which - YOU ARE ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF SOME OF MY FAVORITE OCs! Liam is such a darling, and you’re another big inspiration in me furthering my own lore! The amount of detail you work with for Liam is awe-inspiring, and I truly love hearing about how his world works and the history it has, alongside his own unique biology! The way you handle his powers is legitimately something I haven’t seen done before, and I think that really just goes to show exactly how much consideration and love is really going into developing him. Not to mention - you DRAW all your icons!! Like, DAMN. 

Dani / @candyredmuses / @pxppinmolly / @bluemoonmuses : DANI. NERD. DORK. FELLOW MUN OF A PINK PRINCESS. I cannot say how much I appreciate you! And though we might not chat it up as regularly as some others (basically until I find a meme or song that reminds me of you) - you are on my mind!! Your work on character development CANNOT BE OVERSTATED. I think about Molly and your work on her so often, and she truly inspires me to further work on Miranda and put all the more thought into detailing her out! I might be a cryptid, but you can sight me anyday! (And bonus points for ALSO BEING A FELLOW HORROR-LOVER.)

        👑 The High Royals

And here’s to all who I don’t know as well! Who I see on my dash or maybe have a thread or interaction or two with, but don’t chat OOC with that often or that Miranda isn’t totally established with yet! I see you, and I appreciate all that you’re doing and all of the effort that goes into your art and writing, and I look forward to the friendships and further interactions that can come of this!

If you’ve gotten this far and you haven’t been mentioned, then I’m sorry! You’re totally free to leave a comment or somesuch, shaming me for being as forgetful as I am, because you’re really all so wonderful, and I would love to shout everyone out if it weren’t for my bad memory! I love all of you so much, and I’d sincerely like to thank everyone reading this, for getting to this milestone together!

@vibinjustice / @rotaidevxr / @eoleolhan / @prsonatm / @stripedstrigoi / @lovsiik / @anxechoxinxhell / @vnemis / @bigveee / @multiipl / @moonmiissed / @woerended / @chainsxwsmile / @grandtales / @stcries / @yourfuturebcyfriend / @hoopsheartthrob / @xj-nine / @hellishmoth / @soupervillainpotage / @fatedcfied / @muse--menagerie / @hazbinvesta / @pinafcl / @dreamsugargirl / @hollowxport / @canisfuria   

#rp promo #follow forever #monster prom rpc #mp rpc #Most secret royal advisor || OOC #Spawning of the Reefs || Promos #(( in case nyall wanted to know what ive been doing all day #(( also dear god i hope all these pings work

[seo--jun]

heyo heyo it’s kat back again with a new muse !! this is sam and he’s posh as hell !! read more below the cut !! my discord is kat#1056 if anyone would like to plot there !!

━♡ guess the 26 YEAR OLD NOVEMBER baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because WEON “SAM” SEOJUN  is just as BRILLIANT as the month of NOVEMBER. wait, why do they remind me of KIM NAMJOON? beyond that, they seemed OUTGOING & INTROSPECTIVE upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of DISTANT & SPACY though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX #4 / APARTMENT #6 / FLOOR #4 ; HE seem(s) to have a lot going on with HIS job as A FOOD CRITIC. ( kat, 20+, she/her, est. )

basic info !

name: seojun “sam” weon age: 26 pronouns: he / him birthdate / sign: november 26th 1994, sagittarius (idk whats with me and sags i just love to write them) occupation: food critic, photographer (mostly related to food for articles, ect, but as a hobby also does nature photography and candids of friends and family)

background !

sam was born in seoul, south korea to a family of prestige and occasional notoriety. he’s the only child to a successful lawyer (mom) and a renowned art critic (dad). growing up his parents jobs had the family moving around pretty often and sam ended up living in the states for a lot of his childhood (thus the english nickname). he always had a knack for cooking and, admittedly, some of the finer things in life. he liked nice clothes and furniture, he liked clean floors and chandeliers, he loved good food and fancy restaurants, but never to the point where it was gaudy, always more appreciative than show-offy. 

he isn’t judgmental. at least, he doesn’t think so. he’s been privileged his whole life and he knows it, doesn’t take it for granted or think less of people in different situations then himself. he knows his career was largely influenced and amplified by his parents success, his ability to make money and do what he loves only an option because of the support he was given. he's thankful for what he has, but he also experienced a lot of distance from his parents due to their careers and never had many lasting relationships due to not have siblings and moving around as much as he had. 

he was always an exemplary student, though he struggles to take full credit for it given the tutors and teachers he had being some of the “best.” failure, he supposed, was never really an option. he had freedom, though. cross country trips by himself became an option at the age of sixteen and experimentation in careers, life, and style became something he loved, something he relied on. he’s well-traveled, friendly, and also inexplicably.. lonely. he fills his life with work and travel and new people to avoid being solitary, nothing more shaking than sitting in an empty apartment with no one to talk to, the only savior the sound of the television playing to an vacant couch in the other room to avoid the empty side of his bed but... anyways.

so how exactly had he ended up in dallyeog? well, it’s sort of a funny story, really. he had a lease somewhere else (perhaps somewhere of similar intrigue… perhaps somewhere much, much nicer) ready for when he came home from a stint in california but when he arrived it seemed there were some problems with the paperwork and... long story short he had nowhere to live. after some quick last-minute searching he found that dallyeog was one of the only complexes that had an open availability for more or less an instant move in. and now he has a year and a half lease. so. that’s that. 

wanted connections !

connection: not a life coach but i’ll coach you in life TAKEN

aesthetic: empty packets of ramen / smudged eyeliner / colorful clothes patterns / raucous laughter / painted fingernails / big sweatshirts / long hugs / walks around the city / late night phone calls / special ringtones / crying on a train / fighting over the bill / holding someone’s face in your hands

in depth: they weren’t meant to be best friends, not quite like this. they met in the apartment building and your muse was at some sort of rock bottom, maybe sam ran into them crying in the stairwell late at night, maybe they locked themselves out of their apartment -- whatever it was, he offered to help and since then, well... he just kept helping. it’s not pity and it’s not a savior complex, he knows your muse could survive without him, but he likes spending time with them and they want to be helped. whether it’s life advice, fashion advice, cooking help, or any other variant -- sam has their back. similarly, sometimes its good to be reminded to let go a little, embrace mess and chaos and just accept life as it is; not everything can be helped, not everything is avoidable. a classic case of opposites attract.

connection: pretty handsome awkward

aesthetic: flushed cheeks / drunken laughter / holding hands / bar stools / leaning towards someone when you talk / messy hair / heavy jackets / over-the-shoulder and around-the-waist hugs / talking til late at night / strategic ‘good morning’ texts

in depth: they met at a bar and hit it off. it was a classic meet cute, he was out by himself stressing over some emails he has to deal with and your muse happened to be seated nearby. your muse broke the ice and then hours later he looked at his watch, surprised. it was late. really late, like the-bar-was-about-to-close-on-a-friday late. he offered to walk your muse home and very quickly realized that was also HIS way home and, well, you’re neighbors!! surprise!! now it seems you have an ongoing flirtationship that exists over beers and in a jacket slung over your muses shoulders that has yet to go anywhere serious. 

connection: that ‘struggling artist’ type of love

aesthetic: paint splatters on a white wall / torn-up sneakers / sticking your head out of a sunroof / throwing stones at closed windows / banging on a bedroom door at two am / sticky notes on a bathroom mirror / ‘this reminded me of you’ / glitter stuck in the carpet / abandoned canvas’ / a wall of photographs

in depth: your muse is unlike anyone he’s ever met before, and that’s saying something. this works best with an eccentric muse, an artist, a free spirit. your muse is, well, HIS muse. he has a roll of candids he’s taken of them on his camera while they hung out, sprawled over a couch or wandering the streets of the city. they don’t worry about the future, they live in the present and it’s foreign to him, he’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame. sam doesn’t consider himself an artist, not creative even in cooking or photography, but they make him feel -- unique.

connection: the ghost haunting my halls

aesthetic: late nights / darkened hallways / slow, quiet footsteps / lit cigarettes / stargazing / losing track of time / wearily catching each other’s eye / sweatpants and slippers / disheveled hair from tossing and turning / sleeplessness / old cartoon reruns 

in depth: you run into each other in the hallways more often than not. it’s a constant struggle to fall and stay asleep, singularly he’s sometimes found wandering the halls or going for walks until the early morning. somehow your muse always seems to be awake. sometimes they go for walks together, or they hang out in one another’s apartments, watching old reruns and eating whatever’s left in the fridge. it’s strange, really, how you never seem to hang out outside of these nights, but it happened organically, and it’s nice to feel a little less lonely when the sun breaks the horizon.

( note: all of these are open to any gender identity !! these are the main ones i have for now but i will be making a full plots page and adding more soon !! in the meantime feel free to message me to brainstorm if you have any other ideas you wanna explore !! )

#dallyeog:intro #intro #hello everyone !! #i hope u like him !!! dm me for ploottts

[annhellsing]

Fleurs du Mal

notes: if i had half a brain cell i’d stagger this shit but you guys know me and i fucking don’t. so the results of my coffee-fuelled write-a-thon last night are being posted at the break of day. enjoy!! rating: explicit, my dudes!! here there be smut!! pairing: homare arisugawa / reader word count: 2,437

Your love, who does not know he is your love, waits patiently before the mirror. 

It’s a bit difficult to understand how he could not know he is loved, really. You undo his tie with all the fondness and familiarity that practice implies. This is not the first time you’ve done this for him, dressed him down to reveal his softer parts. Nor shall it be the last.

All is rather silent but for the ticking of the clock. His grandmother’s record playing Vivaldi’s Autumn has run its course. Neither of you speak at first, content inexplicably with one another’s company to the point that no words are needed.

Homare likes very much when you do this, even if he does not yet know the reason. He likes to imagine that it’s because he’s loved, but working up the courage to confess such a thing is much easier on paper.

Conversation never plagues him so, but you have proven to consistently defy his expectations. He very much cares about what you think of him. And though he is utterly correct, he does often wonder if the mutual dalliances enjoyed on slow afternoons are being misinterpreted on his part.

It stays his tongue in the worst way possible, for you similarly lack the ability to define your relationship. So, you take his clothes off slowly with playful and flirtatious intent. Yet neither of you can admit as much until the act begins.

“With the way that you dress and undress me, I feel a little bit like your doll,” Homare comments, good-natured in tone even as his stomach does flips. Butterflies roost in his chest, not his gut. There is where his words reside, choked and stifled by the flock of delicate wings making his chest flutter uncomfortably.

He wants to say he likes being your doll, could he please be your doll forever? But he does not.

The spell is broken, it seems. You look up at him with soft, loving eyes who’s emotion he is certain he reads incorrectly. You smile at Homare, taking in the beauty of his face and wishing that now were the time for kisses. You’re sparse with them, not wanting to drive him to discomfort with your emotions.

“Mm, you’re prettier than any Barbie,” you tell him, relying on teasing to alleviate how tight your own rib cage is.

His tie’s been cast aside. Your fingers work open buttons without pausing to explore his skin underneath. Homare is fair and beautiful, smooth and clean. He might appreciate comparisons to a lily or a rose, but your resolve wavers when he smiles back. And your compliments die on your tongue.

“I care very little for my appearance,” he begins. You can believe that, at least. “I prefer compliments directed at the mind— ah!”

He cries out for you’ve come to the bottom of his shirt and untucked it from his waistband. You press your hand to his lower stomach, drawing your palm up his chest and feeling with a confidence that you can’t voice. 

“Softer, too,” you mumble, unable to say anything more. Homare’s smile returns quickly, with a fox-like tilt that emboldens you just a bit. He seems pleased, if still surprised with the attention.

“You can thank Azuma for that, he was quite transparent about his skincare routine,” Homare adds. Your shoulders shake with a quiet laugh.

“That’s nice of him,” you say. Your hands move of their own accord, pulling him a little closer by the thin taper of his waist. Homare turns towards the mirror. You take up the place behind him, drawing his back against your warm chest.

You explore, as soft and careful as any lover. And yet he is still quite sad about the fact that the two of you are not in love. He reaches behind, holding your hips but allowing you a moment to touch and feel at your leisure.

“I quite agree,” he chimes, settling in for the long haul of touches meant to heat the blood. He’s already stirring in more ways than one, fighting back small and contented noises on the basis of pride. 

With you, Homare is gripped by a phantom desire to expound your virtues and profess the depth of his emotions. But a pride that does not belong to him rattles his ability to do so. It belongs to his past, he suspects, to one woman in particular who was easily able to destroy him.

Of course, he does not recognize this behaviour as destructive at all. Only honest. You have been left with the pieces of his heart she scattered. He only hopes it’s some time before you cut yourself on them.

But you touch him like he is not broken glass, indeed as if he were not broken at all. Your clever fingers undo the button in his dress pants, making him stiffen up in anticipation in more ways than one.

You coax relaxation from his slight frame once again with patience. However, he still finds it difficult to breathe as you dip your hand into the front of his trousers.

Surprised by what you find, your eyebrows lift. That smile comes back, just as fox-like as his while you feel beneath his boxers.

“Did Azuma show you how to take care of what’s down here, too?” you ask. That impish smile of yours burns in the mirror. Homare feels very exposed, even with his shirt hanging only part way open and his trousers still preserving his modesty.

He understands your joke enough to give a short laugh, the sound somewhat strained, but does not retreat. You take to stroking the skin around his half-hard length, which is fast approaching fully erect under such careful attention.

Homare gives a strangled sigh as you explore, your hand cupping his balls and giving a soft squeeze. He’s mostly smooth to the touch. You set your head on his shoulder, content to feel.

“That was a bit of experimentation on my part,” he admits, turning to look at you. He gives the end of your nose a gentle peck. Unable to keep himself still any more, his hand falls to your wrist. His grip is loose and unhurried. He doesn’t want you to stop, exactly.

But the tightness of his fingers increases a bit when you brush somewhere not sensitive, but painful. Your expression shifts to one of concern.

“Poor thing, you nicked yourself,” you say. You retreat from the source of pain but do not fully remove your hand.

“There is a reason I am not in the sciences, my flower,” Homare smiles still at you, hoping that his mishap with the razor won’t put you off. He’s aching for you now, his lower belly now a mess of writhing anxiety and glorious heat.

“Ask me if you want help with any further experiments, angel,” you say, offering up a soft kiss immediately following. He sighs again, as you return to your former occupation with even more care not to hurt him further.

“Your enthusiasm is rather exciting,” he says. His voice takes on a rather unexpected, sultry tone. You lift an eyebrow. “I do hope a few minor flesh wounds won’t chase you off.”

“You look ravishing, Homare. Where else have I to go that’s half as interesting?” and he has no answer to such a question. He supposes, had you any idea of his true nature, you might find elsewhere to spend your time.

But as it stands, you return to him time and time again. 

Rather, he returns to you. His family home is a little lonely, and has been ever since his grandmother passed. But you look after his parents when they have need, and after Aeriel when she does. 

It’s almost shameful to Homare that his love’s picked you because his dog decided you were good at heart. But he looks at your smiling face in the mirror, at the way you dip your head to kiss his neck and he knows you’d find no shame at all in that. You’d likely be flattered.

Of course, if you didn’t spurn his affections wholesale. He would understand that entirely. But as it stands, you’ve neither asked for such things nor voiced any true feelings you may harbour. He is more than content with this passionate, if infrequent affair as it is. At least this way you’ll stay with him.

“You’re very clever to realize that you stand in the presence of a poetic genius,” he muses. “Very few know to appreciate my company, muse.” You bite down very softly on his neck, pulling from him a quiet mewl. In his ear, you whisper,

“Tonight, I think you’re the muse,” and the shiver that runs up his spine is nothing short of wanton. You grip him on two fronts, putting a hand both to his throat and around the base of his cock. Homare stiffens and then sighs.

You apply no pressure to either, you simply hold him as he is with his back to your chest. While he can admit that the two areas you’ve sought out are quite delicate, he’s glad to an extent that you did not think to take him by the heart. At least, not literally.

“Will you come to bed?” you ask, “Or shall I see what other secrets you’re keeping underneath your trousers.”

“Take me,” he whispers, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck when your lips find his shoulder. Your hand leaves his throat, moving down his chest before falling to his side.

You entwine your fingers with his and remove your other hand from his trousers. Homare is turned around and guided towards the mess of pillows and quilt at the centre of his parent’s guest room.

He sits, looking almost in a daze. You’re still mostly dressed as well, but when you guide his hands up your thighs and to the waistband of your underwear, Homare understands. He plays a moment with the soft, elastic lace. His thin fingers touch your thighs with a reverence best reserved for church. 

“Don’t tease me, muse,” you whisper to him, “that’s my job.” Leaning in, you take another, fragile kiss. Homare decides to be petulant, biting gently at your lip and seizing forward all of a sudden so that he might still have your lips on his.

You indulge, doting and gentle as always while your hands push into his bright locks of hair. Homare seems hesitant to take your panties off, moving his hands over the roundness of your hips and the outward press of your pelvic bone. Over the fabric, he makes a show out of exploring your mound.

Your hand grips the hair at the back of his head when it becomes obvious he’s dragging his feet. It’s only ever for the sake of irking you, and the reaction is one he favourably courts.

“My, my, my, never in all my years have I met a woman with such impatience,” he exclaims, “and not to mention so lacking in a sense of humour.”

“Oh, I have a sense of humour,” you say, “wouldn’t it be funny indeed to make my own fun without any help from yourself?”

Homare is quite glad that his ego is feeling rather strong today. Such teasing holds no bite. But still, as if to turn the thought from your mind he begins to slide your panties down your thighs.

“That’s better,” you say, “I do love you.”

His hands still.

Those eyes, red and so often full of sly emotion go wide as dinner plates. Homare looks stricken for a second, as if you’ve said something truly awful as opposed to a confession. He stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“You love me?” he asks, his voice now more like a croak than its previous, sultry invitations. Slowly, you nod.

“I---” you start. You close your mouth. It was a mistake to so freely give it up, but the sentiment is truthful. You do love him very much. “Have I never told you?”

“I thought---” Homare begins, but the second half of his sentences dies. “Come, kiss me again. I have been denied that for far too long.”

“Only because you stay away for ages,” you reply, settling back into the familiar territory of breathless kisses. You touch your lips to his, bending down to reach his new height.

You crawl into his lap and his big, thin hands support you. The kissing comes and does not ebb, every time you try to pull away to speak he hauls you back in for more. It’s almost like he’s looking for something between your lips, the courage to speak his own truth.

It comes on swift after you push him onto his back. Homare falls with you on top of him, caught up in the sound of your heady laugh as you shift and hold yourself above him.

“I love you, too,” he starts very suddenly, lifting his head so that you are near enough for comfort. “Never doubt I love, my flower.”

“Mm, really?” you ask, though your tone still holds that gentle teasing that so sets him at ease. Homare doubts you are trying to name him liar, you place both of his hands on entirely scandalous locations. You fiddle with his trousers to try and press towards unity.

He’ll allow it, the both of you have been bubbling with unrequited tension for far too long.

“I love you in so many ways that they cannot be counted,” he insists, “though since I am poet I shall no doubt have to try---”

You dip your head, taking another kiss.

“I’ll count mine for you,” you say, “my reasons number in the thousands.”

“Flatterer,” he scolds, though the criticism holds no malice.

“Hypocrite!” you exclaim, tossing your head back and laughing over him like you belong nowhere else. Homare grips your hips and prays you can think of nowhere better to sit. “Your poems hold truths aplenty but you speak too highly of me in most of them.”

“Never,” he says, his lips finding the center of your sternum with the intent to kiss through your skin. If he focuses, he can hear the perfect beat of your fond heart. “I could never find the words to speak higher of you than what you’ve earned.”

“Write that down, Homare,” you playfully urge. But your hand moves somewhere dangerous yet again, making him moan and driving all thoughts of poetry from his mind. He’s nearly-incoherent when you add, “But not right this minute. I have things to do presently.”

#homare arisugawa #arisugawa homare #homare arisugawa x reader #a3! #homare x reader #a3! homare #anniewrites #nsft #thank u to ava who dragged me to clown hell