Sleepdeprivedfireant - Untitled

　ᛝ　　ℱyodor　𝒫ixels　　𓏏 　 f2u w　｡　repost ᵒʳ like 　 　◟-͜ ◞ ˖ ◟-͜ ◞ ˖ ◟-͜    ꔫ

2024 Snowbaird Secret Santa Masterlist

Welcome to the masterlist for the 2024 Snowbaird Secret Santa event! Below, all gifts are listed with links by genre: fic, art or edit.

Enjoy perusing!

FANFICTION

The Things We Do to Survive by SunField_Antique Synopsis: "Who's the third?" Coriolanus and Lucy Gray talk it out in the cabin... and make a plan to keep everyone safe. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 3, 292 Type: Multi-Chap [2 chapters]

The Songbird and her Brute by lucygraysmockingjays Synopsis: She loved Coriolanus, she knew that to be true the moment she could have escaped the Hunger Games and instead rescued him. Her foolish love reinforced itself to her when she scrambled around with a peacekeeper in the arena’s rubble to try and keep that rose engraved compact from getting into the wrong hands. Unfortunately, she loved him. She accepted it. She just didn’t trust him. Despite the adrenaline and her instinct to run, she stayed. Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,964 Type: One-shot

Little paradise by MitsukiSirya Synopsis: "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Lucy Gray," Coriolanus finally answered her, staring into her eyes and continuing to caress her "I don't know what my life would be like if I hadn't met you. I don't even want to think about it." Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 3,629 Type: One-shot

Here We Come A-Caroling by Carnival_Sleeper Synopsis: Tigris convinces Coriolanus to go Christmas caroling with her on a blistery, winter night. He hates every minute of it until one of the carolers surprises him with her beautiful voice. A modern AU, cozy Christmas fic. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 8,328 Type: One-shot

Bloody Roses and Guitar Strings by Songbird_Love Synopsis: This in an AU where Lucy Gray Baird is Coriolanus’s mentor. Coriolanus was a capital citizen before the war. However, his father was convicted of being apart of the rebel plan. As punishment, his whole family was banished to the lowest of the districts. Lucy Gray has to decide if she should do what’s right morally or if she should follow the rules, even if that meant letting the boy she’d married on the playground when they were kids fend for himself. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 3,853 Type: One-shot

To Glory At the End by FrostedGemstones22 Synopsis: The only reason Coriolanus would willingly spend time at Hogwarts is to win the Tri-Wizard Tournament as Durmstrang's rightful champion. He didn't think the competition would be anything to worry about. Enter Lucy Gray. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 11,785 Type: One-shot

so says the stars by TumblingBackpacks Synopsis: coriolanus is so down bad for lucy gray and becomes a better person. also sejanus lives and everything is happy. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 2,409 Type: One-shot

like falling stars by lysanderwarrior Synopsis: The red thread connecting the two of them — the one Coriolanus can't even see — ends up being the thing that saves him. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 2,470 Type: One-shot

The strings that bind by BooksandLighters Synopsis: Lucy Gray Baird and Coriolanus Snow are soulmates who seem to only be destined to meet in their dreams. Or so they thought. Rating: Mature Word Count: 5,357 Type: Multi-Chap [3 chapters]

you're my wish list by little baird Synopsis: Lucy Gray knows exactly what she's doing during a work Christmas party and Coriolanus can't resist. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,959 Type: One-shot

Meet You On the Other Side by Prix Synopsis: A little honesty and communication goes a long way. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 4,723 Type: One-shot

To Seduce a Pirate by backtothestart02 Synopsis: Coriolanus is a pirate taught mermaids are only out to kill anyone at sea. Lucy Gray is a mermaid who was taught no pirate ever deserved to live. What happens when they cross paths with murder and seduction in their wake? Rating: Mature Word Count: 12,914 Type: Multi-Chap [8 chapters]

But awake at night, I'll be singing to the birds by ACPaula Synopsis: a moment shared between Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow in the roof garden. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,488 Type: One-shot

Pure as the Driven Snow by TheStarlightForge Synopsis: Still recovering from the trauma of the Games, his childhood in the Capitol and time in the Peacekeepers, Coriolanus Snow prepares for his wedding to Lucy Gray Baird—just shy of five years after the birth of their son, and their secret return to District Twelve. Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 1,941 Type: One-shot(ish - part of a larger series)

Brewed Affections by starrrywrites Synopsis: Part-time barista Lucy Gray sees cute Academy student Coriolanus Snow. Said cute boy asks for her phone number. Rating: General Word Count: 1,492 Type: One-shot

Baby Fever by backtothestart02 Synopsis: Capitol!AU - Lucy Gray wants her husband morning, noon and night, whether he has the energy or not. Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,440 Type: One-shot

ART

A Dance with the Victor by Jazzydemons666

Untitled by jeida-chi

Untitled Moodboards by meekxo

EDIT

Born to Die by stolentragedies

The Snowbaird fanfic rec list!

As usual, if anyone is interested in joining the snowbaird discord, just shoot me a dm for an invite!

Before we start, some notes:

As we all know Snowbaird is fucked up and toxic 😌😌 but there are;;; levels to it so for easy navigation I have color coded this fic rec! Blue is for fics that are less toxic (now that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s NO toxicity but it definitely stands on the sweeter side of the Snowbaird spectrum) whereas red stand for "god these fucked up bitches 😍😍" (though for me a big no no is loveless Snowbaird, so even the more toxic fics in this list they do love each other!) - Ive also added an orange category for the mid level fics/ones where I couldn’t quite decide where they would rank- still, do keep in mind that those rankings are based on my personal judgement (plus I’m going off memory for some of the fics) so they may not be fully accurate.

Im also adding a "heavy smut" mention to some of these fic - that means the smut takes center stage in the fic and is pretty much unavoidable to properly read the story, a lot of the other fics on this list will still contain smut, but to a lesser extent/in a way where it’s not an integral part of the plot - remember to read the tags and curate your reading experience!

Sadly several of these are incomplete - I have added a mention of when the last update was posted as of today (april 22, 2024)!

Anyways, now that all of that is out of the way, here are the recs!

Capitol AUs

Helpless, Tender, Open by perfectlystill

When his heartbeat stutters beneath her touch, when his mouth falls open, breathing heavy, Lucy Gray pops open her clutch. She’s the one pouring antidote down his throat.

Complete

if i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? by eecwritess

It had been fifteen years since Lucy Gray Baird had escaped Coriolanus Snow at the cabin in District Twelve. But now, she had been captured. Brought back to the Capitol after all these years to be punished as a Rebel. But President Snow...well, he has offered to save her. Under one condition.

Heavy smut - complete

Songbirds, Snakes, and Wedding Rings by celestscrystal

“Even she can’t charm your way out of that predicament.” Dr. Gaul taunted. He was losing her. He could already see the disinterest in her eyes. Highbottom had been long gone, his plans at sabotage were shattered, now he was just waiting to leave. Coriolanus had to make this work. His Lucy Gray must be kept alive. He had one final idea to convince them. It was his most dangerous idea yet. “I could marry her.” In which Coriolanus was never sent to district 12 and instead got away with a slap on the wrist. However, Lucy Gray would not be granted the same fate. In order to save her, Coriolanus marries her. Clashes ensue in a tale of enemies, passion, and lovers. Updates every Saturday/Sunday!

Incomplete but is getting weekly updates! I really love this one :D

Burn by vvitchimage

Life in the wilderness is harsher than Lucy Gray Baird had imagined. Sick and almost dead, she's forced to return home to the only person capable of taking care of her.

vvitchimage is definitely one of my favourite Snowbaird authors so you will see more of her works down this list; the way she writes the toxicity is just chefs kiss 🤌 Heavy smut - complete

Safe and close at hand by framboise

In which Coriolanus Snow is handsomely rewarded for his tribute winning the Games and in turn handsomely rewards his prize, Lucy Gray, herself. He's gone solemn now in the afterglow, serious. He cares for his own, Snow, she sees that with his family, and now she is one of them. Not his family, but something he owns. His prize, his ward, his girl. Is she to be his mistress then? she thinks hazily as she slips towards sleep. Is that the future for her? To escape from the viper's den into the viper's mansion? She shivers and he drags her closer, one large hand tucked around her hip. Well, she can't escape now even if she wants to, she thinks, sinking into the softness of the plush mattress, burrowing back into the heat and warmth of her jailor.

complete

the girl and the prize by merkstave

In Lucy Gray’s defense, it was never supposed to go down like this anyway. She was just supposed to seduce him, to weasel herself into the snake pit that was Coriolanus’ bed so that he’d keep her around long enough for her to formulate an escape plan. She’d meet with Highbottom and he’d help her like he said he would after she was crowned victor and she’d be back to being a faceless girl amongst the cover of the districts. She just had to say the word and the dean of Heavensbee Academy would make her disappear. She’d be back to singing in bars in no time, back to her old life on the run. That had been nine months ago. And here she was, in her warden’s bed, naked and with his cum stuck to her inner thighs. +++ Lucy Gray is given to Coriolanus as his ward after the games. It's supposed to be a temporary arrangement, nothing more than means to an end. However, nothing is ever easy, especially at the hands of a Snow.

Sadly incomplete but the 4 chapters we did get are SO!!! Truly the delicious kind of toxicity 🤌🤌 (last updated: Jan 15, 2024)

All Of That Ultraviolence by ggs_29

He was well dressed in a suit that fit, hair combed back, still just as handsome as before, if not more so. A full pantry suited him well, helping him to fill out the spaces that were too thin on his figure, and building up the hard earned muscles of his peacekeeping stint. Today, he sits behind his desk in a fine dress shirt, a button undone on top, and his cuffs rolled up his muscular arms. Lucy remembers Barb Azure’s old tales, about a pagan creature from a time before Panem, a fallen angel; the most beautiful of them all, but so easy to succumb to the temptation of power and glory; “ You can leave us now, Heavensbee.” Coriolanus says, holding his gaze on her, and his eyes are dark, predatory. Fuck. “Of course Mr. President; Madame Snow.” Hilarius shoots her a look filled to the brim with trepidation, and suddenly, she is back there again, paralyzed with fear. A girl of six and ten whose name had just been reaped. They’d been found out.

heavy smut - complete

Peacekeeper Coryo AUs

This Little Life of Ours by voiceinthecrowd

"I'll sing for you soon," she promises, hand threading through blonde curls. “I’ll write you into all my songs." “Maybe even write a Ballad of Coriolanus Snow”, she whispers, gasping as her boy manages to pull her even closer. It isn't the immortality he's been looking for. It certainly isn't the marble presidential busts he tells her about when they both can't sleep; how their stony eyes would bore into the souls of passing Capitol children; a young, hungry boy in Academy rouge. But presidents die and statues crumble. Coryo might not know it yet, but it’s stories and songs that persist. His ancient heroes and her whispered poems. They’re all stories, and Lucy Gray is determined to give Coryo the greatest story of them all. He’ll understand, one day. She’ll make it up to him, the dreams he’s left behind for her. He hasn't lost everything in Twelve. Lucy Gray will prove it. In which Lucy Gray stays for Coriolanus, and Coriolanus stays for Lucy Gray.

foaming at the mouth over this fic. complete

i wouldn’t mind the hanging, but the laying in the grave so long by rainfrog

He’s a Peacekeeper since the beginning. And she’s still that Covey girl who falls in love.

SO GOOD; this fic is 2,4k words long and NOT ONE OF THEM IS WASTED truly so many excellent lines in there 💯💯 - complete

Deal with the Devil by vvitchimage

Lucy Gray had lived in the cabin for months after her falling out with Coriolanus Snow. When spring comes, he returns to take over Hoff's place in the Peacekeepers. The day she's found, Lucy Gray has to strike a deal with the devil.

Heavy smut - incomplete but is still being updated! (last update april 18, 2024)

persimmons and soup beans by kayladevitoo

Coriolanus Snow moved up in the Peacekeeper ranks in District 12, becoming an officer. He shares breakfast with Lucy Gray after a night shift — soup beans and a persimmon.

short and sweet - complete

Chaos and control by Anonymous

Her name was Lucy Gray Baird, and she and her group were called the Covey. Technically, they weren't from the Districts; as it turned out, they were a group of traveling musicians who got stuck in the Twelfth when inter-District travel was banned. This somehow reassured him – that she wasn't from the Districts, that he hadn't gone crazy falling for a girl from the Districts – she wasn't one of those responsible for the war. So he no longer felt guilty about his dreams, sometimes strange, sometimes blatantly indecent, in which she was always the main character. 18 years old Coriolanus Snow, an orphan, who lost his mother, his father and grandmother during the war now is a Cadet Peacekeeper in the District 12, preparing to become an officer. Here he meets the most beautiful girl in the world

This fic is not as Snowbaird centric as the rest of this list, but god is it fantastic. This Anonymous author is simply incredible 💯 - complete

Modern AUs

Free Ride by betts

“Does Lucy Gray like you back?” Tigris asked. Coriolanus hadn’t actually considered that. He’d just assumed she didn’t and never would. He’d grown up with anything he could ever want given to him instantly, but now everything he wanted was impossibly far out of reach. Lucy Gray was no exception. Or: Coriolanus is a full-time university student, restaurant server, administrative assistant, and on the weekends he cleans and presses gowns. Occasionally he sleeps. So he really doesn't have time to be giving the weird bartender a ride home every night. And he definitely doesn't have time to become obsessed with her.

having really enjoyed Betts' Anidala fic Lemon, I knew we were in for a treat when i recognized her in the Snowbaird tag AND I WAS RIGHT, such an amazing take on modern!coryo - complete

I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose by fkevin073

Their lips slide together, then their tongues curl and she moans, a light, heady thing, come alight with the realization that she is finally, finally home. It’s tender at first, but at the sound of her moan Coriolanus grabs her chin in between his fingers and plunders her mouth harshly. As if this is a punishment. You left me, every kiss he gives her, takes from her, breathes. You left me. And Lucy Gray— Well. For her this isn’t a punishment at all. Or: Lucy Gray and Coriolanus can't seem to let each other go.

THIS IS SO!!!!! see this is the kind of ploltline I might not love in other circumstances, but THE WRITING IS SO INCREDIBLE that it just hits - complete

when the sun goes down by astradeluna

small-town girl lucy gray baird moves from district twelve to the capitol to attend the university to study music. this is her first time leaving home and although the prospect of starting over is terrifying, she’s still excited to make the most out of the opportunity. that being said, after a shitty breakup with her shitty ex, the last thing she wants is to meet someone, but then she crosses paths with coriolanus snow, an arrogant but ambitious government major, who seems to get under her skin with ease and he brings out a part of herself that she never knew existed

incomplete and the story hadn’t gotten to much development in the relationship yet but GOD I still need to put this here bc THE WAY the dynamics were so perfectly transcribed to this modern setting were just chefs kiss. Forever hoping this fic will return from war and get an update 🙏🙏 (last updated: Dec 20, 2023)

Other

Your Selfish Ways by thpsyche

Ten years since her disappearance from District 12 Lucy Gray decides it’s time to return, finding a shelter and a silent life. All would be well if it weren’t for the mysterious encounters of a man cloaked in darkness. A deal is struck, twice a month she would give up to him in return for his silence of her existence. Only one condition: she’s to not ask or look at him. - For the snowbaird week 2024| Day 2 – Myth.

GOD THIS FUCKING FIC - IM FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT;;; EROS AND PSYCHE INSPIRED AU MY BELOVED - I have reread many times;;; if you see a thumbs up crying cat pfp going insane in the comments that would be me;;;; I am not normal about this 🙈 - complete

doomsday is close at hand by fkevin073

But on the first train of her nineteenth year, as the snows settle on the ground and ice curls in their lungs, something new comes with the train to arrive in District 12. A man by the name of Coriolanus Snow. (But Lucy Gray doesn’t find that out until later, of course) - Or: Coriolanus Snow arrives in District 12, and finds his very own songbird, ready to break free.

incomplete but according to @fkevin073 's tumblr it is not abandoned and she has just been busy;;; truly such a good fic I love it sm (last updated feb 14, 2024)

When I'm Pure Like a Dove, When I've Learned How to Love by Realmermaid333

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus bask in sunlight by the edge of the lake, enjoying each other's presence and calming each other's fears.

Short and sweet - the kind of softness we need more of for Snowbaird 🥺🥺🥺 - Complete

Saving Each Other by flipflop_diva

Lucy Gray had already accepted that she was going to die here in the arena, that sometime in the next few days she would meet her end. But then something else happened — and now there were two of them to carry on the fight. (An AU in which Coriolanus goes to save Sejanus and doesn't escape the arena.)

complete

Silent songbird by KitKatKatherine

Coriolanus Snow thought he knew everything that had happened to him these last few months. Lucy left him, he got into the academy, and Gaul was overseeing his studies. It’s not until he wakes up in the hospital and experiences a rather concerning conversation that he questions everything he once thought to be solid, reason logic. Vowing to never once again help Gaul, and capital be damned, he turns his charms on his own people, and becomes their worst nightmare.

Now, this fic does get quite dark; the author gives trigger warning on specific chapters but if you would like to be warned before getting any investment in the fic, feel free to dm me for details ❤️ - that said, it’s a great fic, I thought the take on disability was lovely and the way it portrayed Coriolanus realizing how rotten the system is and redeeming himself was great; incomplete but worth a read (last updated: Jan 13, 2024)

This is Not a Love Song by FrostedGemstones22

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus never go to the cabin, so they never find the guns. They decide to travel together, but Lucy Gray isn't so easily fooled. Truth is; he needs her, and she needs him. Common ground has to be found somewhere. Speculation about if they traveled up to find District 13.

THIS FIC IS SO EXCELLENT and definetely the best take I have seen on a district 13 AU - incomplete but absolutely worth reading (last updated: Jan 22, 2024)

in the woods somewhere by OfPearlsAndSunsets

Sejanus. She must have figured out that Sejanus was the third person Coriolanus had killed. She wouldn’t have known the particulars, but surely she could have pieced it all together. Still, to think he’d kill her? After everything they’d been through? He looked down at the loaded gun in his hands. Maybe he should have left it in the shed. It's as if he was hunting her. He thought about the knife and how it paled in comparison to the weapon he was carrying. What are you doing, Coriolanus? Something inside of him asks, and then demands. Put it down. He does.

Complete

Monster by Lululemonee

Coriolanus Snow if given both a gift and a curse when he meets his tribute for the 10th Hunger Games. She changed his life in ways which he never could have imagined. She's a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. And she is keeping him with her for the ride. I am very bad at summaries. This was inspired but the music video for "Scars" by Hazey Eyes which stars Tom Blyth and is sooooo good.

Complete

Deep in the Meadow by vvitchimage

Lucy Gray's reunion with Coriolanus in the meadow ends with him protecting her from her jilted ex.

Heavy smut - complete

BONUS:

Two different tribute!Coryo AUs! Are they Snowbaird centered? Not at all, there’s only a few crumbs if you squint BUT they slap SO HARD I truly recommend! (both are complete)

for cassius, no one wept by marianara_sauce

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" "Where else would we start?" She grins at him, rouge cheeks almost glowing. "Stories can start in all kinds of places. They can go in any kind of order, too. Just like songs." He watches her carefully, this relentlessly bright girl no longer in her rainbow dress. His eyes glance down to the form, blank spaces taking over most of the page. Name. District. Age. Family. It's not necessarily chronological. But her dark eyes don't look away from him, even as her grin softens. "Alright," he says. He steeples his hands together, and the chains rattle. "I'm Coriolanus Snow. District 12." (Or, the world in which Snow is a tribute instead of a mentor.)

Hail Panem by Anonymous

"Hail Panem! Those marching to their death salute you!" AU where Coriolanus Snow is a tribute from District Twelve who takes part in the Hunger Games

And that is all! There are a lot of other lovely Snowbaird fics of course but I tried focusing on my absolute favourites ❤️

Do let me know if you liked the list and if you’re a fan of any of these fic feel free to come scream about it with me!

+ Once again noting that my DMs are wide open to anyone wanting to join the Snowbaird discord! It is genuinely an online space I love and I’m always happy to meet more shippers 🫶🫶

beetles n botany :3

There is no such thing as AI.

How to help the non technical and less online people in your life navigate the latest techbro grift.

I've seen other people say stuff to this effect but it's worth reiterating. Today in class, my professor was talking about a news article where a celebrity's likeness was used in an ai image without their permission. Then she mentioned a guest lecture about how AI is going to help finance professionals. Then I pointed out, those two things aren't really related.

The term AI is being used to obfuscate details about multiple semi-related technologies.

Traditionally in sci-fi, AI means artificial general intelligence like Data from star trek, or the terminator. This, I shouldn't need to say, doesn't exist. Techbros use the term AI to trick investors into funding their projects. It's largely a grift.

What is the term AI being used to obfuscate?

If you want to help the less online and less tech literate people in your life navigate the hype around AI, the best way to do it is to encourage them to change their language around AI topics.

By calling these technologies what they really are, and encouraging the people around us to know the real names, we can help lift the veil, kill the hype, and keep people safe from scams. Here are some starting points, which I am just pulling from Wikipedia. I'd highly encourage you to do your own research.

Machine learning (ML): is an umbrella term for solving problems for which development of algorithms by human programmers would be cost-prohibitive, and instead the problems are solved by helping machines "discover" their "own" algorithms, without needing to be explicitly told what to do by any human-developed algorithms. (This is the basis of most technologically people call AI)

Language model: (LM or LLM) is a probabilistic model of a natural language that can generate probabilities of a series of words, based on text corpora in one or multiple languages it was trained on. (This would be your ChatGPT.)

Generative adversarial network (GAN): is a class of machine learning framework and a prominent framework for approaching generative AI. In a GAN, two neural networks contest with each other in the form of a zero-sum game, where one agent's gain is another agent's loss. (This is the source of some AI images and deepfakes.)

Diffusion Models: Models that generate the probability distribution of a given dataset. In image generation, a neural network is trained to denoise images with added gaussian noise by learning to remove the noise. After the training is complete, it can then be used for image generation by starting with a random noise image and denoise that. (This is the more common technology behind AI images, including Dall-E and Stable Diffusion. I added this one to the post after as it was brought to my attention it is now more common than GANs.)

I know these terms are more technical, but they are also more accurate, and they can easily be explained in a way non-technical people can understand. The grifters are using language to give this technology its power, so we can use language to take it's power away and let people see it for what it really is.

kinda random but I've been reading some fanfics of jayvik or js Viktor raising jinx/powder and also that one where Mel raises powder(so soo good chefs kiss) and I've also been slowly converted into a MelVik stan(I was platonic MelVik B4 + jayvikmel but that pipeline chased me down) but like can u imagine MelVik raising pow/jinx together. Like can u imagine the family banter/convos?!?! I've seen ppl talk about how the sass and wit would be off the charts with MelVik but with jinx too?!?! It'd be so fun to read. Like maybe MelVik from the academy days become an established couple and then they find powder who would've run from silco. And then they decide to take her in and eventually Jayce prob gets merged into the MelVik relationship? Ooh Jayce would be fighting for his life from jinx's pranks and MelVik scold her. But they make fun(playfully) of Jayce all the time at dinner.

Ooh like this fic of married melvik. Mwah. This is def how I imagine this au. https://www.tumblr.com/sandywitchboi/770264341755887616/the-people-you-thought-you-knew-etherealnyx?source=share

those who beat the odds call it fate

💙 *・.。* Timebomb Red String of Fate au ゜・* 💚

i.

"Are we sure Powder’s not lying about having a soulmate?”

Forcing her eyes away from the red string tied around her little finger, Powder turns to glare at Mylo.

Vi, who is helping Ekko train on the boxing machine, is interrupted by the comment, too. She pauses the machine. "Shut up, Mylo.”

Mylo raises both hands, his palms towards Vi. "Hey, I think it would be a positive thing if she didn’t have a soulmate!” he continues. "That way she can’t jinx her own fate.”

Keep reading

i’ve been the archer

i’ve been the prey

screaming “who could ever leave me, darling?”

but who could stay?

I heard someone say that all your hobbies can be traced back to a single moment which made me remember that when I was in elementary school, my sister and I would have "storytime" late at night after my parents went to sleep. And it would just be me rewriting the ending of shows we watched when we didn't like the endings. Chat I was literally writing fanfiction for wild Kratts.

Are we still friends?

Chapter 2

Despite Ekko’s initial excitement about the project, there had been a significant downside to it. The class had also been required to assist with the building of the new center, which, of course, had seemed great in theory. But in reality, a bunch of college kids on a construction site hadn’t exactly been the ideal situation.

At first, the construction crew had tolerated the students’ enthusiasm, but as the days had dragged on and the work had grown more grueling, their patience had worn thin. The students, fresh-faced and eager, had quickly discovered that the practicalities of construction were far from glamorous. The dust, the noise, the heavy lifting—it hadn’t been what they had imagined when they’d dreamed about creating something meaningful.

But all of that had been pushed to the back of their minds when the kids from the group home had arrived for the first time. It had been an early morning, and Ekko had stood with his classmates, watching as the bus had pulled up to the unfinished building site. The kids, ranging in age from toddlers to teenagers, had spilled out onto the pavement, their eyes wide with curiosity. They hadn’t seen the new center yet—this had been their first time stepping into the future home that would be a safe space for them.

Ekko had felt his chest tighten as he had watched them. They had been the reason this project had been so important. The messy, sweaty days on-site, the long hours spent sanding wood and mixing concrete—it had all been for them.

A few of the younger kids had immediately run toward the half-constructed building, their faces lighting up as they had explored the space. Their excitement had been palpable, their laughter filling the air as they had darted between the steel beams and half-constructed walls, imagining what their new home would look like.

The older kids had been more reserved, their eyes taking in the raw, unfinished state of the building with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. Ekko could see the walls they had built around themselves—years of uncertainty, foster homes, and feeling out of place. They had looked at the new building not as something exciting but as a potential reminder of how much they would have to adapt to.

But amidst them all, there had been one girl. She looked about nine, her light brown hair a halo around her face, catching the light with every subtle movement. She had stood at the edge of the group, her small frame barely noticeable against the towering figures around her. Her head had been slightly tilted, a quiet intensity in her gaze as she had observed the construction site.

There had been something different about her. While the others had seemed guarded, their expressions veiled in uncertainty or skepticism, she had held herself with an unspoken calm. She hadn’t seemed to feel the same wariness toward the building. Instead, there had been a curiosity—an open, almost reverential curiosity. Her eyes had flicked from one spot to another, taking in the rawness of the space with a kind of gentle focus. She had seemed to understand that this place, unfinished as it had been, was a symbol of something new, something that could offer a future. Her expression was not one of hesitation, but of quiet acceptance, as if she could already see the possibilities, even if the others couldn’t yet.

Ekko noticed her right away. She reminded him of a certain someone: Powder.

A staff member stepped forward, giving Ekko a polite nod before gesturing toward the girl. “This is Isha,” she informed him. “She’s one of the kids who’ll be living here. Isha’s mute, but she communicates through sign language. You can try speaking to her, but she may need some time to respond.”

Ekko smiled softly, his gaze gentle as he nodded in acknowledgment. He crouched down to Isha’s level, mindful of the space between them, careful not to encroach on her world. He offered a small, open-handed wave, hoping the simplicity of the gesture would speak louder than words. Isha’s eyes, wide and observant, met his, holding him in quiet scrutiny. For a long moment, she signed nothing, her silence heavy and filled with unspoken understanding. Then, as if some hidden thread of connection had been gently tugged between them, a small smile tugged at her lips—a fleeting, subtle curve, but one that had reached the quiet depths of her eyes, telling him more than any words ever could.

Ekko straightened, his smile soft but genuine, still lingering as Isha’s eyes had never left him. There was something about the way she watched, her gaze steady and unblinking, as if she was trying to decode a language only she understood.

For a moment, he stood still, feeling an odd warmth settle in his chest, a quiet connection sparking between them. His eyes flickered around the room, noting how the other kids were more caught up in the chaos of the site, the unfinished walls, the exposed beams. But Isha remained—calm, focused, like a quiet observer at the edge of something larger unfolding.

He began to move again, returning to his tools and sketches. His hands moved almost automatically, the rhythm of it comforting. But then, he felt a shift, a presence—her small form trailing behind him like a shadow, quietly mimicking his every step.

Each time Ekko turned around, she was there, as though she couldn’t resist following him. It hadn’t been intrusive; in fact, it had felt... natural. Her small footsteps were light, hesitant, yet there had been something about it that had felt like she was tethered to him in a way that had needed no words.

“Hey there,” Ekko murmured softly, pausing to look at her. There was no response at first, just her wide eyes studying him with a quiet intensity. For a moment, he had thought she might walk away, but then she took a small, tentative step closer, still observing, still present.

He sighed softly, unsure what to make of this gentle attention. “Want to help?” he asked, gesturing to the scattered materials around them. His voice was low, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Isha’s fingers twitched, a hesitant gesture, like a question in itself. She didn't sign, but her eyes looked almost as if she were unsure of what role she should play.

Ekko crouched down to her level, carefully opening his sketchbook and showing her the pages filled with lines, angles, and half-formed ideas. “This is what we’re building,” he said, his finger tracing the drawn-out walls and rooms, “A home. For all of you.”

Isha looked at the page with interest, her eyes following each line as if trying to pull meaning from the space between the sketches. She gently touched the page, her fingers tracing the ink as though mapping the future in her own way. There was a quiet understanding in her, one that transcended words—something deeper than what he could express with a pencil.

Ekko glanced up at her, watching as she continued her silent exploration. “You’re part of this too,” he added, his voice soft but steady. “You’ll help shape this place. It’s for you.”

Isha’s eyes lifted from the sketch, meeting his with a silent weight, her expression soft, open, yet so knowing in its simplicity. Then, after a beat, she gave the faintest nod, a gesture so subtle, so quiet, that it felt like the weight of the world had shifted in that one small motion.

A smile tugged at Ekko’s lips, his chest swelling with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. He  reached over, gently closing the sketchbook, but still keeping his eyes on Isha. “I think you get it,” he whispered, as if sharing a secret that only the two of them could have known. “You’re going to make this place something real.”

They stood in the quiet hum of the construction site, surrounded by the sounds of hammering and shifting concrete. But with Isha beside him, there was an almost serene stillness in the air, a gentle understanding that hadn’t needed words to exist. In that moment, Ekko knew that what they had been building wasn’t just a shelter—it had been a place for them all to exist without the weight of the world pressing too hard on their shoulders. It was something to be shared, something to grow into. And in Isha’s quiet, watchful presence, he could almost see it taking shape, in all its imperfect, beautiful complexity.

⛧

The apartment pulsed with the kind of restless energy that only existed between mismatched souls—one humming, one still. The fairy lights, strung without care, draped the walls in pools of uneven gold, their soft glow flickering like distant fireflies caught in the sway of an unseen breeze. Shadows stretched long and lazy across the cluttered floor, bending over discarded sketches, coffee rings, and the forgotten remnants of old ideas.

Jinx was a tangle of limbs on the couch, an effortless sprawl of defiance and comfort. One leg draped over the backrest, the other swung idly, the rhythm slow and thoughtless, a pendulum ticking to a beat only she could hear. Her sketchbook rested against her stomach, the edges curling slightly from overuse, and her fingers—smudged in charcoal and ink—moved with a kind of deliberate chaos, breathing life into whatever world lived beneath the drag of her pencil. A half-empty mug of coffee balanced on the armrest beside her, abandoned mid-sip, its steam long since vanished.

Ekko, stationed in the kitchen, leaned against the counter, his weight shifting with the kind of weariness that only came from dealing with Jinx. A bowl of cereal sat in his palm, spoon held midair as he studied her with narrowed eyes. The exasperation was woven into him—etched into the furrow of his brows, the purse of his lips, the tension in his jaw.

“C’mon, Jinx, you have to come,” he groaned, dragging out the words like a man pleading for a final reprieve. “I can’t be stuck with just my class anymore. They’re killing me.”

Jinx barely looked up, her focus tethered to the lines forming beneath her fingertips. A face, a figure—some half-imagined thing only she could see. Her response came as easily as breathing, her voice low, teasing, almost bored.

“I’m not a construction worker, Space Boy. What do you even need me for? I don’t do bricks and beams.”

Ekko let out a sharp, frustrated exhale and set the bowl down with a deliberate clatter, the sound punctuating the quiet like a period at the end of a long, exhausting sentence.

“It’s not about that! It’s the kids, Jinx. I think they’d actually like you—need you, even. They need someone who’s not just a bunch of stressed-out college students who don’t know what they’re doing.”

Jinx made a show of tilting her head, exaggerating the motion like a cat stretching in the sun. A slow, lazy grin tugged at her lips, sharp and teasing.

“Aw, poor Ekko,” she crooned, resting her chin in her palm. “Finally realizing your classmates aren’t the geniuses you thought they were?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, fingers momentarily covering his eyes as if shielding himself from the inevitability of this conversation.

“Jinx,” he tried again, his voice edged with exasperation, “I’m serious. There’s this girl—her name’s Isha. She’s... different. Quiet. I don’t know, she reminds me of you when you were a kid. She’s already latched onto me like a lost puppy, and I think you’d be good with her.”

For the first time, Jinx hesitated.

The charcoal-streaked tip of her pencil hovered over the page, caught mid-stroke. Her fingers, usually in constant motion—tapping, sketching, spinning the pencil between them—went still.

The only sound was the low, mechanical hum of the fridge, a whisper beneath the weight of the silence stretching between them.

Slowly, she sat up, folding her legs beneath her, her expression shifting—something unreadable flickering behind her sharp, blue gaze.

“Reminds you of me?”

Ekko nodded, his stance quiet but unwavering.

The words settled between them like dust in a beam of golden light, slow, deliberate, impossible to ignore.

“Yeah. She’s got this... way about her. Like she’s watching everything, taking it all in but not saying much. You know, that quiet-but-chaotic energy you used to have—still have.”

Jinx let out a short, amused snort, leaning back against the cushions. The fairy lights cast shifting shadows over her face, catching in the curve of her smirk, in the glint of her sharp, knowing eyes.

“I’m not exactly role model material, you know,” she drawled, stretching her arms behind her head, the picture of careless defiance.

Ekko didn’t flinch. “You’re exactly what those kids need,” he pressed, his voice steady, unwavering. “Someone who’s not afraid to be herself. Someone who’s been through some shit and come out the other side.”

Her fingers drummed idly against the worn surface of her sketchbook, a restless rhythm against the charcoal-stained paper. She studied him from beneath thick lashes, the smirk still playing at her lips, caught somewhere between amusement and skepticism. There was something in his face—in the weight behind his words—that made her pause.

“Fine.” She flipped absently through the pages, smearing black streaks across old sketches, like ghosts of past thoughts left behind. “I’ll come. But only because you’ve got that puppy-dog look on your face.”

A grin broke across Ekko’s features, small but genuine, the kind that softened the hard edges of exhaustion in his expression.

“Seriously, this shit is gonna mean a lot,” he said, his voice carrying something quiet and earnest. “The kids—they need someone like you. Not someone who just gives them a lecture or talks down to them. They need someone real.”

Real.

She let her head fall back against the couch, her gaze drifting upward, tracing the uneven flicker of the fairy lights overhead. Real. The word settled in her chest, unfamiliar and strange, like something she should understand but had long since forgotten the shape of.

But Ekko believed in it. In her.

Maybe that was enough.

“Alright, alright,” she sighed, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll show up. But don’t expect me to be Miss Sunshine or whatever. I’m not exactly the role model type.”

Ekko chuckled, the sound low and knowing. “You don’t need to be,” he said, shaking his head. “Just be you. That’s more than enough.”

⛧

She peered down, frowning as the steady drip, drip, drip of blue fell from her hair like ink bleeding through fragile paper. The strands clung damply to her shoulders, heavy with color, the vibrant pigment seeping free as if her very essence was unraveling.

Dark, twisting trails bloomed across the once-pristine white tiles beneath her feet, veins of blue spidering outward, staining everything in their path. The mess spread with an almost deliberate slowness, as if savoring its inevitable claim over the sterile perfection of the floor.

“Seriously?” she muttered, half to herself, half to the persistent mess that shadowed her every step.

She groaned, the sound low and drawn out, before crouching down to snatch the nearest towel. The fabric was soft against her fingers, pristine for only a second before the first smear of blue sank into it, blooming outward in uneven blotches. She scrubbed at the mess with quick, irritated strokes, but it only made things worse—diluted rivers of dye spread across the tiles, water-thin and stubborn, like veins branching under translucent skin.

“Why does this always happen?” she grumbled, tossing the towel aside. The weight of little annoyances like this one always hit harder when she was tired.

The water continued to run, a steady cascade of steam billowing up to meet the bathroom mirror, obscuring the reflection. She leaned against the shower wall, just for a moment, her chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate breaths. Her eyes lingered on her reflection, the blue streaks cutting through her damp hair like forgotten rivers, spilling down her shoulders in jagged lines. It clung to her like ink, stubborn and impossible to erase.

With a tired sigh, she reached for the bottle of conditioner, her fingers moving with the practiced precision of someone who had done this too many times before. The smooth, cold liquid slipped into her hands, and she worked it into her hair slowly, methodically, each motion deliberate in an attempt to wrestle back control. But the frustration lingered, quiet and insistent.

It was just dye. It could be fixed.

Yet, in the soft, hazy light of the bathroom, with the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her like an invisible hand, it felt like one more thing—one more mess that refused to stay neatly contained. One more thing she couldn't control, no matter how hard she tried to scrub it away.

Eventually, Jinx wrapped herself in a towel—thin, threadbare, and clinging to the edges of modesty, but little more. The damp fabric stuck to her skin as she stepped out of the bathroom, leaving faint, transient footprints across the floor, a reminder of the storm that had passed. Her hair, still dripping, caught the light as it fell in messy tendrils around her face, streaks of blue marking her shoulders and back in quiet defiance.

"Ekko!" Her voice sliced through the quiet hum of the apartment, sharp and unexpected, bouncing off the walls with a crackle of urgency.

Ekko, who had been lounging on the couch with his laptop—distracted by some half-formed thought or the endless scroll of a screen—sat up with a jolt. His bowl of cereal, second dinner by the looks of it, teetered dangerously on the edge of the coffee table, threatening to spill its contents onto the floor.

His eyes flickered down briefly, caught by the way the towel clung to Jinx’s frame. It wasn’t much—just a simple towel, barely hanging on by the thinnest of threads—but it seemed to have a weight of its own. His gaze lingered for the briefest moment, drawn to the curve of her silhouette, the soft tension of fabric against damp skin, before he quickly averted his eyes. An almost imperceptible warmth crept across his cheeks as he shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

“Jinx,” he managed to say, voice low and slow, like he was trying to process it all without letting himself get lost in the mess of emotions suddenly bubbling up. His brow quirked, his confusion laced with something unspoken, the awkward tension making the air feel thicker. “Uh, what’s... going on?”

She planted herself firmly in front of him, hands on her hips, the towel shifting ever so slightly with her movement. Ekko’s eyes flicked to it and quickly darted away, his throat catching as he coughed awkwardly, trying—and failing—not to notice the way the fabric clung to her.

"My hair dye is a disaster, Space Boy," she declared flatly, her voice as casual as if she were announcing the weather. She shook her head for emphasis, sending a flurry of tiny droplets of blue water scattering across the coffee table like errant sparks.

Ekko grimaced, leaning back on the couch as if trying to escape the very space between them. His eyes hovered over the table, where the dye had already begun to stain the surface, as if the mess would somehow spare him if he pretended hard enough.

"Okay, first of all," he said, voice edged with mild panic, "I’m not cleaning that up."

Jinx rolled her eyes, an exaggerated motion that only made the scene more absurd, but she didn’t miss a beat. “It’s your fault, anyway,” she shot back, her tone mischievous and light, like she was accusing him of something he couldn’t possibly argue against.

Ekko’s face twisted with disbelief, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite himself. "My fault? How is my fault that you—"

“Because you’re the genius who got me the off-brand of hair dye!” she exclaimed, her finger pointed directly at him like an accusation she couldn’t take back. The outrage in her voice was almost theatrical, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes that couldn’t be ignored.

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the tension in the air. “Off-brand? Are you kidding me? You literally said, and I quote, ‘Just grab the one with the cool font!’ That’s not exactly a scientific method for picking hair dye, Jinx.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Well, you’re supposed to know better, Mr. I’m always right.” She crossed her arms with a snap, the motion pushing the towel slightly out of place. It shifted, the loose fabric now dangerously slipping as she held her ground.

Ekko immediately turned his head away, his face flooding with heat, his eyes darting in the opposite direction. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, the warmth creeping up his skin. “Can we have this argument when you’re not half-naked?” he muttered, his voice low and unsteady. His gaze remained firmly on the ceiling, as if trying to make himself invisible to the moment.

Their friendship had always been tactile—an unspoken comfort in close proximity. Jinx had never been one to respect personal space, always draping herself over his shoulders, hooking an arm through his, or leaning into him without a second thought. She was like gravity itself, pulling him closer even when he tried to resist. But even in their easy familiarity, there were limits. Or at least, Ekko had limits.

Jinx glanced down at herself, her gaze flicking to the towel she wore with a mild, almost absent expression. It had shifted again, the fabric hanging dangerously low now, barely clinging to decency. She shrugged, utterly unbothered by the state of her own half-dressed appearance. "Oh, please," she said with a roll of her eyes, her voice light as air. "We’ve known each other forever. It’s not like you’ve never seen a little leg."

Ekko’s groan was immediate and strained, a mix of frustration and something far more complicated bubbling beneath the surface. He dragged a hand down his face, his fingers pressing hard against his temples like he could force the chaos away with sheer will. “Legs aren’t the issue, Jinx.” His voice was a little too tight, a little too controlled. “The issue is you storming in here with blue hair dye dripping all over the floor, half-dressed, and then blaming me for your bad life choices.”

"First of all," She began, her voice full of unshakable confidence, "these are great life choices." She paused, glancing down at herself with a mischievous glint in her eyes, before continuing, "Second, the dye thing? Absolutely your fault. You're the one who cheaped out."

His eyes widened in disbelief, his exasperation mounting. "You said to pick the cool font!" he shot back, as though it should be painfully obvious. "You didn’t mention anything about quality, ingredients, or literally any of the things that would’ve helped me make a good choice!"

“You still should’ve known better. You’re the genius, remember?”

Ekko threw his hands up in frustration, his voice rising in defeat, the tension thickening around them. "I’m not a mind reader, Jinx! I didn’t know that ‘cool font’ meant ‘questionable product!’” He stared at her, as if hoping for some shred of reason to materialize in her expression.

She raised a brow, unimpressed. "Well, now you know for next time." The words were sweet, but the sarcasm dripped off them like honey—sticky, yet somehow still satisfying.

He blinked at her, incredulous. “There’s not going to be a next time.”

Jinx’s grin only widened. “That’s where you’re wrong, genius. You’re gonna fix this. You’re gonna go to the drug store and buy new hair dye—preferably a better one this time. Oh, and don’t forget the shampoo. And maybe some cleaner for the floor if you’re feeling generous.”

Ekko’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kicking me out?”

“Yup. You’re gonna fix this, and you’re gonna do it now.”

He groaned, rubbing his forehead. “You’re impossible.”

“Get going before I make you mop up the entire bathroom too,” she shot back with a wink.

⛧

Jinx had been dying her hair the same blue—or variants of it—since she was fourteen. It had become part of her new identity, the thing that made her feel like someone different, someone fierce. It wasn’t just about color. It was about a fresh start, a way to escape the old, the past that had clung to her for too long. The blue felt like a shield, like armor, and she wore it proudly.

The first time she’d shown up to school with it, the blue was patchy, definitely rushed. She had no idea what she was doing, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. It was bold, it was new, and it felt right.

And Ekko? Ekko liked it too.

She remembered the way his eyes had lit up when he saw her, the playful grin creeping onto his face. "Well, that's definitely... something," he’d said, but there was something in his voice, a warmth that told her he thought it was perfect. He was the only one who didn’t ask questions, the only one who didn’t judge her for the chaos she’d put into that messy, imperfect transformation. He just saw her, and he liked it.

He’d started helping her perfect the process when they were sixteen—right around the time Silco had finally relented and allowed Ekko into Jinx’s room. Not that there was any real cause for concern; they were just friends, after all. 

But Jinx could still remember the way Silco’s eyes had narrowed the first time Ekko walked through the apartment door, his posture stiff and scrutinizing as he evaluated the boy she’d grown up with.

It took weeks of careful negotiation, and Jinx’s relentless whining, before Silco stopped lurking in the hallway every time Ekko visited. He eventually accepted that the boy wasn’t going anywhere—and more importantly, that Ekko wasn’t a threat. If anything, he was the one person who could keep up with her manic energy, grounding her in the kind of way Silco knew she needed but couldn’t always provide himself.

By the time Silco finally gave the nod of approval, Ekko had already started becoming a fixture in her space, especially when it came to her hair. It started small—him passing her clips or gloves while she fumbled with the dye. But it quickly evolved into a ritual. Ekko was the one who meticulously sectioned her hair, smoothing out the strands before applying the dye with an artist’s precision.

And now, after his begrudging trip to the drug store, Ekko sat cross-legged on the tiled floor of Jinx’s ensuite bathroom. The new hair dye kit was spread out on the counter beside the sink, gloves, and tools laid out like surgical instruments. She sat on the closed toilet lid in front of him, wearing an oversized shirt that bore evidence of many past dye jobs—blue streaks and blotches staining the fabric like a chaotic artist’s canvas.

He couldn’t help but smirk as she adjusted her position, sitting up straighter to give him better access to her hair. “You know,” he started, picking up the gloves and snapping them on, “you could invest in a dedicated dye shirt. Something that doesn’t look like it’s been dragged through a paint factory.”

She glanced down at herself and shrugged, the motion careless. “It’s tradition now. Can’t break tradition, Space Boy.”

Ekko rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Tradition, she called it. He supposed that was fair. Over the years, these moments had become their thing—quiet evenings punctuated by her incessant chatter and his focused precision.

He parted her hair into sections, working methodically as he applied the dye. The bright blue paste coated her strands, and he made sure to cover every inch evenly, a skill honed over years of practice.

“You know,” she said, her voice teasing, “you could go into business doing this. ‘Ekko’s Dye and Style—precision guaranteed.’”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, his tone dry. “Forget architecture or anything remotely useful. Hair dye is my true calling.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. You’re basically my personal stylist at this point.”

He chuckled under his breath, focusing on smoothing the dye through a stubborn section near her crown. “Yeah, well, you don’t make it easy. You’re lucky I’ve got the patience of a saint.”

“Saint Ekko, patron of blue-haired disasters,” 

He shook his head but didn’t stop working. This was Jinx at her core—chaotic, vibrant, and utterly unapologetic. And even though she drove him up the wall half the time, he wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.

As he finished the last section, he leaned back and surveyed his work. “All done. Now sit still and let it set. And don’t touch anything, Jinx, I swear—”

“Relax, Mom,” she interrupted, leaning back on her hands with a wide grin. “I’ll behave. Probably.”

Jinx sat unusually quiet as Ekko worked, the faint squelch of the dye applicator and the occasional rustle of gloves the only sounds breaking the silence. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror watched him with a rare stillness, her blue eyes tracing the precision of his movements.

The color was never guaranteed. Every box of dye was a gamble, a promise of blue that might manifest as vibrant cerulean one time and a muted indigo the next. It didn’t matter much to her. Each shade carried its own charm, its own iteration of the identity she’d carefully crafted over the years.

He glanced at her through the mirror, his brow furrowed slightly. “You okay? You’re... quiet.”

She blinked, pulled from her thoughts, and offered a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous,” he teased lightly, but his voice softened as he added, “Thinking about what?”

Her voice was almost meek as she whispered, “Do you think they’ll like me?”

Ekko paused, his hand hovering midair. “Who? The kids?”

She nodded, but he gently stilled her head with a gentle hand to avoid disrupting the dye. A soft laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “Oh, come on, Jinx. You’re like... confetti personified or something. They’ll love you.”

Jinx’s lips twitched into a small, uncertain smile, though she kept her gaze fixed on the bathroom tiles. “Confetti, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ekko said, dipping the brush back into the dye. “Bright, chaotic, impossible to ignore. You’re exactly the kind of person who shakes things up in a good way.”

She let out a short laugh, but it lacked her usual sharp edge. “Not sure chaos is what they need.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replied, carefully smoothing the dye over another section of her hair. “Sometimes a little chaos is what makes people feel alive. Besides, you’re not just chaos, Jinx. You’re... you.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she risked meeting his eyes in the mirror. “That’s surprisingly sappy, Space Boy.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he shot back with a smirk. “But seriously, you’ll be great. Kids like real people, and you? You’re as real as it gets.”

For a moment, the bathroom fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of the dye brush working through her hair. Jinx closed her eyes, leaning into the familiar rhythm of Ekko’s movements, letting his quiet reassurance sink in.

“You really think I’ll be good at this?” she asked softly.

He paused, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his expression unshakably steady. “I don’t just think it, Jinx. I know it.”

Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she murmured, “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replied, returning to his task with a focus that masked his own small smile.

In that quiet moment, surrounded by the scent of hair dye and the faint hum of the bathroom fan, Jinx found a flicker of confidence she hadn’t realized she needed.

⛧

The color had come out more cerulean this time, a perfect shade of blue that seemed to capture the morning sky at its most vivid. It shimmered, alive with movement, and it perfectly complemented the pink ribbons Jinx had braided into her hair— adding a touch of warmth to the cool hue.  

Ekko found her at the table, surrounded by a chaotic array of ribbons in every shade imaginable. Pink, green, purple, gold—some were shiny, some patterned, and others soft and simple. Jinx was nervously fiddling with a length of crimson fabric, her fingers twisting it into little bows that didn’t seem to meet her standards.

“You’ve been up all night?” He asked, stepping closer.

Jinx startled, nearly knocking over a pile of perfectly folded bows. “It’s nothing! I just—I thought the kids might like...you know, options. For their hair.” She gestured at the table, her voice pitched higher than usual.

Ekko raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and the mountain of ribbons. “Options? Jinx, this looks like a whole store.”

She huffed, her cheeks tinting pink as she avoided his gaze. “It’s not that much. Just enough, you know? Some of the kids like bright colors, some like patterns... and then there’s the little ones who like sparkly stuff.” She waved a hand dismissively, though her fingers still clutched the crimson ribbon a bit too tightly.

He smirked, sitting on the edge of the table. “And you needed to figure this out at...what? 5.am?”

She didn’t answer right away. She busied herself with untangling a gold ribbon from a stack, her movements sharp and restless. “I couldn’t sleep, okay?” she mumbled. “I just—I want it to be nice for them. Special.”

His smirk softened into something more thoughtful. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s already special, Pow. You showing up, you being you—that’s what makes it special. The ribbons are just extra.”

Her fingers stilled, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, a small, tentative smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah... but extra’s kinda my thing.”

“Well, in that case, extra looks good on you.” Ekko crossed his arms, nodding toward the pile of ribbons. “Now, come on. You’ve got a big day ahead, and you’re gonna need some sleep if you’re planning to out-bow everyone.”

She hesitated, eyes flicking back to the mess of ribbons, fingers ghosting over the fabric as if debating one last addition. Finally, she let out a sigh. “Fine. But if they don’t like these, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” He held out his palm, and when she took it, he gave her hand a light squeeze before slowly guiding her toward the door.

“Sleep, okay? The kids will appreciate it more if you’re actually energized.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved him off, but before she could slip away, he pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to her forehead, his touch light as air. Then, with the gentlest push, he nudged her into her room.

⛧

Jinx had never been one for kids—not out of hatred, but more of a general unease. They were unpredictable, loud, and exhausting. Perhaps too similar to her to get along with. The chaos, the boundless energy—it all hit a little too close to home, like seeing a mirror she didn’t ask for.

But as she and Ekko stepped into the new group home—The Firelights, as it was called—she froze, a quiet gasp escaping her lips.

The room was alive with movement and sound, but not in the overwhelming, chaotic way she had always imagined. There had to be dozens of kids, maybe more, ranging from toddlers clutching stuffed animals to teenagers sprawled across beanbags in the corner. The air was filled with laughter, a warmth that seemed to seep into her chest despite herself.

Jinx couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of something indescribable tugging at her heart. It was so... joyous. Brightly painted walls were plastered with messy crayon drawings, fairy lights strung from the ceiling cast a soft glow, and every corner of the space seemed designed to foster creativity and comfort.

It was nothing like the dingy, broken-down group homes she had seen growing up. Back then, places like those felt like afterthoughts—crumbling walls, worn-out furniture, and a sense of hopelessness that hung heavy in the air. But here, it was different. Here, it felt alive.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Ekko said, his voice cutting through her reverie.

She turned to him, blinking as if waking from a dream. “Yeah,” she murmured, her lips curving into a softer smile. “It’s... really cool.”

The kids seemed to take to her instantly, like moths drawn to a flame. Especially the younger ones—wide-eyed and full of wonder. They reached out with tiny hands, fascinated by the cascade of blue that spilled down her back. Her hair, impossibly long and vibrant, seemed almost magical to them.

“It’s so pretty,” one little girl whispered, her fingers hesitantly brushing against the silken strands, as if afraid it might disappear if she touched it too much.

Another boy giggled, his sticky fingers tangled in a pink ribbon she hadn’t realized was still trailing from her braid. “You look like a princess,” he said, and though she opened her mouth to protest, the words caught in her throat.

There was something about their awe that felt... grounding. Like they saw something in her she couldn’t see in herself—something untarnished, unbroken.

And so she found herself sitting on the ground, hair trailing behind her like a shimmering river, with roughly ten kids braiding and styling it. Their hands worked quickly, fingers nimble as they wove ribbons into the strands, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Some were serious, focused on creating perfect little patterns, while others couldn’t help but giggle at their own clumsy attempts.

But as she glanced around the room, something caught her eye.

There, in the corner, barely illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights, was a girl. She couldn’t have been older than nine, her small frame huddled close to the shadows. Her eyes watched Jinx intently, though she kept her distance, her hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt as if unsure whether she should approach.

Jinx’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, her curiosity piqued. The other kids hadn’t seemed to notice the girl hiding in the shadows, too busy with their tasks to care about anything beyond the bright colors of ribbons and hair ties.

She watched as Ekko spotted the little girl in the shadows, his gaze sharp as always, but softening the moment he recognized her hesitation. Without a second thought, he began making his way toward her, his steps steady and sure.

As he neared, the girl’s wide eyes flickered with something Jinx hadn’t quite seen before—hope, maybe, or curiosity. And then, like the sun breaking through clouds, her face split into a beaming smile, a transformation so sudden and bright that it took Jinx off guard.

Ekko crouched down, his smile warm and open, the way he always did when he was around people who needed a little extra kindness. “Hey, you,” he said, his voice low and friendly, an invitation in his tone. “I see you’ve been watching my friend over there. You think you could give me a hand too?”

Isha’s hands moved, small and deliberate, as she signed a single word.

Friend?

Ekko wasn’t fluent—nowhere near it—but he didn’t need to be. The question was clear in the hopeful tilt of her head, the way her fingers lingered in the air as if waiting for permission to believe it.

His grin softened, and he nodded without hesitation. “Yeah,” he said, voice warm. “Friend.”

Isha beamed, her smile quiet but certain, and that was all she needed. She didn’t say a word—she didn’t have to. Slowly, almost tentatively, she made her way over to Jinx and the other kids, her small frame moving carefully through the group, as though testing the waters of this new space.

The other children didn’t seem to notice her hesitation. They were too absorbed in their giggling and playful chatter, their hands still twisting ribbons into Jinx’s hair. But as Isha approached, Jinx’s eyes fixated on her immediately.

So this was the kid Ekko talked about.

Jinx studied her quietly, noting the way Isha moved—careful, yet somehow determined. She didn’t look like someone who was used to being around crowds, but there was a quiet strength in her silence. It was different from the usual kind of nervousness Jinx had seen in others. Isha’s reticence wasn’t borne out of fear—it was something deeper, something more guarded.

Jinx tilted her head slightly, trying to catch her eye. “Hey, kid, you wanna help?” she asked, her voice light but inviting.

Isha glanced up at the sound of her voice, meeting Jinx’s gaze for a brief moment before dropping her eyes to the ribbons in her hands. She hesitated, fingers stilling, but then—almost imperceptibly—nodded.

A small, barely-there smile tugged at Jinx's lips. She could feel the tension in Isha’s posture, like she was still figuring out whether this was a safe place for her, but the fact that she’d nodded at all felt like a small victory.

Without another word, Jinx scooted over slightly, making a little more space beside her. “I’m sure we can make this even crazier.” She reached for a vibrant purple ribbon and handed it to Isha, her voice light, teasing. “Go wild.”

Isha hesitated for just a second, looking at the ribbon as though it were a puzzle, but then she took it, her fingers curling around the fabric with quiet purpose. Her movements were measured, deliberate, like she was choosing each thread carefully, crafting something meaningful even in the smallest of gestures.

Across the room, Ekko had noticed the two of them. He was helping a few kids with a mural now, his hands stained with paint, but his eyes still flickered over to them. He smiled softly, a quiet approval in his gaze, watching the bond forming between Jinx and Isha.

It was subtle, but Ekko could see it—the way Jinx’s posture had relaxed, the way Isha’s expression had softened. It was like they were creating something unspoken between them, a kind of silent understanding that didn’t need to be explained.

His smile widened a little. He was glad to see it, glad to see that Isha was starting to open up, just a bit. And Jinx, in her own way, had always known how to bring out the best in people, even if she didn’t always recognize it herself.

Jinx might have never fully understood the impact she had on people, but Ekko had seen it—he had always seen it. The way her quiet strength had pulled others toward her, the way she had made even the most guarded souls feel like they belonged. It wasn’t something she had ever actively tried to do, but somehow, without realizing it, she had always created a space for others to feel safe, to be themselves, even in their silence.

He glanced back at the mural, the vibrant colors now splashed across the wall, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel the usual weight of everything on his shoulders. There was something light in the air today, something hopeful.

And it was all because of that moment—that small, quiet exchange between Jinx and Isha, woven together like the ribbons in her hair.

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authors note: hiii so this is chapter two, already on ao3 but they're honestly such cuties in this chapter :D

please like and reblog <3