#fennel basri

[musingmycelium]

Just two gals* being pals

[musingmycelium]

character traits meme

tagged by @my-da-phase and @nonbinarysidestep thanks guys! 

aaaaaaah this time i’ll do fennel bc why not!

Fennel Basri

FLAWS

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | lies | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | masochistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | rebellious

STRENGTHS

honest  | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

SKILLS & HOBBIES

art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | baking | beachcombing | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather-working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | traveling | exotic dancing | minor potion brewing | tricks & trinkets | crow keeping

i’ll taaaag @icylook @mahalzevran and @ghostwise no obligations of course

[musingmycelium]

Cuckoo

Afterglow is a word Fennel is wholly unfamiliar with. Could never understand it. Touch is something which begins and ends with pain in Fennel’s experience, something to recoil from or avoid altogether. Nothing good comes of intimacy. 

So why does Ortega’s arms around Fennel’s waist feel so safe? Her hand in faer hair feel so comforting? They lay tangled together on Ortega’s couch, her cologne filling Fennel’s nose, hearts beating in sync. Slow and even. Ortega’s always been a cuddler. Smiling quietly into the crook of Ortega’s neck Fennel tries not to wonder, or worry, about anything except matching faer breaths to Ortega’s. 

“I love you, you know.” Soft words for a soft embrace, a hidden cadence in the hitch of Ortega’s voice. 

Fennel freezes. Shatters in a moment, calm evaporating between quickening heartbeats. “No, you don’t.” She can’t because there isn’t enough of Fennel left to love. 

You can’t love someone you don’t know. A relationship built on secrets, on lies. On broken noses and hospital kisses. Those things don’t exist, not really, and Fennel knows better than anyone not to trust something you can’t believe in. 

But Ortega sighs, “I do.” Her arms squeeze Fennel’s middle like she’s trying to reassure faer and instead Fennel’s vision begins to tunnel. 

Darkness creeping in on the sides and air turning to lead in faer chest. Constricting. It aches, burns inside Fennel’s throat. A bitter heat flushing under faer skin, shaking faer head. Fennel sucks in a breath but can’t force it into faer lungs. Pushing at Ortega’s shoulders Fennel breaks the protective circle of her arms and all but tumbles off the edge of the couch. Knees hitting the floor in ablution. 

“You don’t.” Fennel stands shakily, hands trembling. “You really don’t.” Looking anywhere except at Ortega, keeping faer back to her. You can’t love a doll, a fake. A cuckoo playing at being human. 

“I love you.” From soft to hard, harsh around the edges. “Hell, I’ve been in love with you for damn near a decade Fennel, don’t tell me I don’t.” 

Air, Fennel needs air. Rapid breaths and nothing in their lungs, a hollowness over taking Fennel’s vision. Too small, too cramped. Escape. Too exposed, too vulnerable. Too dangerous. “Please,” Croaks instead of speaks, forcing the words out through a throat so tight it throbs. “You shouldn’t.” 

A hand on faer shoulder, ripping away from the contact like it burns. Fennel collapses inward, hands coming up around faer ears and bending forwards under the weight of Ortega’s words. 

“Why not?” 

Fennel laughs, heat streaking down faer cheeks in directionless tracks. “Shit, do you want a fucking list?” Shoulders tight and chest burning. “You can’t love me, Julia. You don’t even know me.” 

This was a mistake. All of this. Fennel jerks, starts like an old engine, escapes. Fae looks around desperately for the door, the room spinning under Fennel’s feet. Shit. Shit! Fennel should have known better, but temptation isn’t something a villain turns down. 

This time Ortega’s hand gently cups Fennel’s elbow. “I know you sing in the shower, I know you hate the color red, I know the inside of your elbow has a scar from when you tried to make a poster for Anathema and cut yourself putting it up. I know you use strawberry shampoo and I know your favorite thing to do is listen to electro-swing. Fennel, if I don’t know anything else about you, at least I know I’ve missed you.” 

Each word is lighter, like saying them lifts something from Ortega’s shoulders. “I know you said you loved me seven years ago when you were drunk and I kissed you and the next morning you didn’t remember. I know I thought you would have time to figure it out on your own and I know I didn’t want to pressure you.” 

Quaking, cracking. The almost hiccup of Fennel’s breaths are matched by the faltering in Ortega’s voice. 

“I know when I was told you were dead I didn’t believe it. I know it felt like accepting a part of me died with you. I know I loved you every day even though you weren’t there and you weren’t coming back.” Ortega's voice breaks completely, open like her ribcage baring her heart. 

Clutching Fennel’s elbow in her hand tight enough Fennel is scared the joint will pop Ortega doesn’t stop speaking. Like now that she’s started she can’t bring herself to keep it contained anymore. 

“And I know that when I saw you again, Fennel, I thought I was dreaming. But I wasn’t, and I’m not right now. And I know this time I’m not going to let this, whatever this is between us, die again.”

Turning around slowly, air like molasses around faer. Fennel dares to meet Ortega’s eyes and they’re as red and puffy as Fennel’s own. “You really think you know me, don’t you?” 

Well, Fennel knows something too. 

Silently, Fennel pulls off the blue crop top hanging loosely from faer frame, tosses it in the corner of Ortega’s living room and takes a breath. Grips the smooth, stretchy fabric of the long-sleeved athletic undershirt faer wear nearly every day and grimaces. Ortega’s eyes shift from righteous anger to confusion and Fennel counts down the heartbeats fae have left. Because the moment fae lifts faer shirt this, all of this, is over. 

You can’t love someone who never existed in the first place. 

Eyes burning Fennel rips the shirt up and over faer head fast enough fae can hear several seams pop. Heart racing in faer chest, pounding hard enough to bruise against faer rib cage. Pale skin, bones jutting out, bright orange tattoos in delicate, intricate patterns across faer entire chest. Up faer torso and down faer upper arms, past the waistband of faer pants. A marking so intimate and desolate, a warning for anyone who gets too close. 

Confusion melts into horror, Ortega’s face drawing up painfully. It takes Fennel’s breath away. Rips it from faer lungs in an anguished whisper of, “Now you get it.” 

“You can’t love me, Ortega, because I’m not human enough to be loved.” Fennel keeps faer arms pinned to faer sides, exposed for Ortega to see. It’s almost a relief, knowing the game is up. Shit, Fennel almost wishes fae could hear Ortega’s thoughts just so fae would know the depth of the hatred and rage she must be feeling at being so betrayed. At being tricked. 

“Fennel,” Ortega reaches out slowly like she expects Fennel to rear back. “I-  Is this what you meant when you said you have enemies?” 

Fennel blinks, what? “You? Ortega, don’t you understand what I am? I’m not who you thought I was, I never can be.” For all Fennel’s tried fae never did manage to quite believe the lie either. Dolls and cuckoos and villains don’t get happy endings, they just get endings. 

Ortega’s hand on Fennel’s chest, right over faer heart, stops Fennel’s breathing entirely. Her eyes pin Fennel to this moment, this heartbeat. “Bullshit. You’re more human than most people I’ve ever met. I love you, Fennel, this doesn’t change that.” 

It’s almost like falling. That split second before the wind whistles in faer ears and Fennel could swear fae’re suspended in the air. But the world drops away beneath Fennel and gravity catches up with faer with a vengeance. How dare Fennel think fae could fly. 

But Julia’s hand on Fennel’s chest is warm, and the tears on both of their cheeks are real. Julia steps forward and when Fennel doesn’t break, doesn’t run, she wraps her arms around Fennel and pulls faer close. Gasping sobs into her shoulder, a release of something Fennel didn’t realize fae was still carrying. Shit, it’s all so real. Like fae could be, maybe. 

Maybe.

[musingmycelium]

Fennel Basri - Fallen Hero

[template] | [inspiration]

[musingmycelium]

36?

36 - total control

Hints of her cologne linger in the crook of Ortega's neck. Dark and a little smokey, though Fennel knows the sharp ozone is all Julia. Fennel's legs tangle with hers on the couch, Julia's chest rising and falling under Fennel's slowly in sleep. Strange and familiar in equal measures.

There was a time, near a decade ago now, when Fennel would watch Julia crash in the strangest of places. In the ranger station, behind her office desk, anywhere and everywhere except where she was supposed too. Ortega always pushed herself too hard, and judging from the new lines reaching out from the corners of her eyes she still does.

Now, though, Fennel can reach out with a soft fingertip and smooth those lines away.

Its different knowing the lines are put there by Fennel's own actions. Something about her seems more tender knowing JUMP's attacks have caused her so much pain.

In this moment Fennel has total control.

Julia's face is smoothed by sleep and her breaths are slow and even, Fennel rests on top of her on her couch in the evening. Sleep heavy arms rest on faer back and Fennel has, for the first time fae can remember, Fennel could just sleep too. Forget about worrying about being compromised, forget about being found out. For an evening, Fennel could just, be.

Breath catching in faer throat Fennel burries faer face back in the crook of Julia's neck. Lets the smokey scent of her cologne wash over faer senses and try to ignore the sting in faer eyes. Ortega's arms have always been a place of refuge but now Fennel's shoulders start to shake and her arms squeeze faer middle lightly.

"It's okay," Julia's words are mumbled but her hand begins to rub a soothing half circle on Fennel's back. "I've got you."

Perhaps Fennel isnt the one in control after all.

micro story prompts

[musingmycelium]

Ive come to tell you that fennel is precious

AH! 

THANK YOU?! thats so sweet i’m big love fennel and i’ve been in fallen hero mode so all i’ve been doing lately is thinking about faer lkjkljlkjljlkj

[musingmycelium]

Also bc I’m big Nerd, what would Fennel think of Pollux if the two of them were somehow in the same universe?

I’d considered the possibilities of other cuckoos before, I knew I couldn’t be the only one, escaped or otherwise. He keeps himself a mean secret, the kind of hidden ace in the hole only real gamblers can make and doesn’t let himself fall for tricks of perceived intimacy. I can get behind that. It takes more strength of will than I thought to be that kind of person, closed off and safe.

I enjoy a good bit of symbolism myself so the theatrics of Dioscuri’s name and secretive nature is delicious. And god I wish I knew as much about tech as Pollux, it’d come in real handy. He’s a piece of work, a dedicated craft, and I can appreciate a good artwork. 

oc opinions

[musingmycelium]

me, adding 21 pilots and lana del rey and halsey to fennel's playlist: fae're fake emo now