#combined with the most uninhibited emotion

[itspileofgoodthings]

I JUST LISTENED TO HITS DIFFERENT FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A WHILE—-

[polo-drone-084]

The Golden Army Poker Tournament

Another Sunday with the Golden Army meant another contest. This week it was a poker tournament. The team of over 100 between the bros and Polo Drones took the time to just have some fun and bond. Talking at the tables and reading their bro's facial expressions.

Even the fully transformed drones could appreciate the camaraderie of playing with the team, even as they processed their decision to call, raise, or fold.

Plus it was a casual event and intermingling between drones and Golden bros was encouraged. Have fun with the whole team.

PDU-084 had taken over its host, Grayden, for the event. The drone's logical processing was even faster when uninhibited by human emotions. PDU-084 continued to play at a table with two other polo drones and two golden bros. Watching as the volunteer announcer and score keepers would lower the number of remaining bros down.

130 dwindled to 110, 100. 90. But PDU-084 knew that the team members were bonding, bros and drones alike.

PDU-084 could see at another table that PDU-001 was racking up a big stack of chips at his table. That drone would be a formidable rival, if both made it to the final table.

Looking around more PDU-084 analyzed some shirtless bros. His calculations couldn't establish if strip poker rules had been activated or not.

PDU-084 just kept watching the table it was at. As one bro went all in and lost to another drone at the table, he stood up and exchanged a handshake and friendly hug with the drone. The board of remaining players just kept dwindling 75, 50, 40.

Each table looked a little different, but no one could deny the brotherhood in the friendly competition.

Then PDU-084's thoughts were interrupted by the announcer, "And with that Captain Brody is eliminated. Bringing us down to 20 players left."

PDU-084 had not calculated that. Its predictions, expected Captain Brody to make the top 10 at least. The drone was surprised that its table still had four people. Some tables had been combined and some of the eliminated bros had gotten drinks and started chatting as they watched.

More and more players got eliminated, some even offering to strip off their golden jersey tops for a few extra chips. Polo drones had to remind them that wasn't how the game worked.

10 players left quickly became 9, 8, 7, 6. Before PDU-084 could even compute he was at a table with PDU-076, PDU-001, and Captain Herc. They were the last four standing. Three polo drones and one of the Golden Army's captains.

PDU-084 couldn't quite read the other drones, but Captain Herc had a tell. PDU-084 wasn't sure how no other drones had picked up on it yet, but the captain was prone to bluffing big when he had a weak hand to try to scare opponents. Herc's muscles were also quite intimidating. PDU-084 watched as PDU-076 fell for the bluff, losing a significant amount of its chips.

PDU-084 tried to play cautiously, but noticed Captain Herc was quickly racking up chips from the other two drones. Most of the team, led by defeated captain Brody, cheered captain Herc on.

To which Herc responded, "Brody, bro. I got this."

PDU-084 thought Herc was underestimating the drone's intellect. But PDU-084 couldn't manage to keep much of a lead. PDU-076 dropped out in fourth losing to Herc and PDU-001 wasn't far behind.

The two drones walked over to the viewing tables getting cheers, high fives, and hugs from their fellow drones and team members. You could almost see a smile in the emotionless drones.

PDU-084 wouldn't fall quite so easily though. However in heads-up poker, Captain Herc was an even more formidable opponent. Calling him, regardless of it he was bluffing would come at a cost.

The two went back and forth hand after hand. The chip leader changing to Herc and then back to PDU-084, then back again. Neither was giving up ground. Eventually Herc got a lucky turn on the river and scooped up a big pot, his lead was huge. But it wasn't insurmountable. PDU-084 tried to keep up, folding when needed to not let Herc strong-arm him.

But who won you might ask? The Golden Team and Polo drones for bonding over the activity.

Oh you wanted the real answer? Well PDU-084 tried its hardest, but Herc's aggressive play style along with the blind bets wore the drone down. Eventually it had to go all in and it failed to pull out a victory against the muscular, studly Captain Hercules.

Want to bond with the bros and polo drones? Or interested in learning more?

Contact our recruiters, @goldenherc9 @brodygold and @polo-drone-001 .

[wineworshipped]

The Laughing God

His name is Dionysus. Liber, Bromius, Bacchus too, yes, but always Dionysus first and foremost. God of wine, fertility, excess, ecstasy, theatre, release, rebirth, madness, and the wild joys of total liberation. The original uninhibited god, born of mortal Semele and immortal Zeus, aegis-bearer, twice-born and full of mirth. The dithyramb is beat in his honor; maneads and bacchants dance in the wild wood for his pleasures. Such is the glory of great Dionysus, madcap lord of the midnight revels.

—Well. Such was the glory of Dionysus, lord of the torches. It’s Dio nowdays. Dio Theoinos among the mortal crowds, hot-shot producer/director and King of the Great White Way. (Dɪᴏɴysᴜs is awfully stiff and old-timey, don’t you think? Something a little catchier was in order for the new age.) Unseated from Olympus like the rest of his family when the new deities came into power, he’s done pretty well for himself since; he has a big media following, a handful of accidental cults, a few modern maneads—nothing spectacular, but certainly enough to get by on. A bit of prayer here and there, a few starving artists looking for a bit of luck, and bam!, he’s back in business. Maybe not running at full capacity, but not exactly putzing around on empty.

Dio is about what you’d expect of him; formerly a blinding force of joy and freedom, he still upholds the right to artistic expression and creativity…it just comes a little more tempered at his advanced age and decreased popularity. He is often surly and unamused, feeling usurped, and while quick to offense, he is equally quick to forgive. Dionysus is a fickle god at best. Sassy, snarky, witty, and sharp-tongued, Dio spends much of his time among the mortal rabble, and has picked up a few of their habits; but being immortal, he tries not to get too attached.

name: Dio(nysus), Bacchus, Bromius, Liber, Cisseus

alias: Dio Theoinos (usually)

pronouns: he/him (usually)

pantheon: Greek, Roman

familial status: Youngest of the Olympians (two uncles, one father, the Bitch, two aunts, two sisters, a sister-aunt-why are you trying to dissect ancient myth here?, two brothers—it’s actually quite a lot.)

age: Immortal

residence: New York City, New York; Los Angeles, California; Naxos, Greece; Olympus; wherever story demands

martial status: Widowed* Single

orientation: a bisexual disaster

face: Alan Cumming (Dio & most variants)

build: Svelt

height: 5’10” (sometimes up to 6′8″ For Dramatic Effect™️)

hair: Changes with the day. He prefers keeping dark hair or going “distinguished” grey.

eyes: Merlot. (It’s a wine thing.)

postive: philanthropic (…well, to a greater degree than the rest of his family), creative, artistic, loyal, individualistic, (relatively) open-minded, readily accepting, etc.

negative: arrogant, conceited, self-important, self-righteous, pompous, egotistical, narcissistic, fickle, non-committal…the list goes on.

*According to myth, Dionysus married the mortal woman Ariadne of Crete…but, unable to bear the grief of separation from her love, Theseus of Athens, she died. Or ascended to heaven. The story’s a little split on that one. Dio…doesn’t like thinking of himself as “widowed”.

myers-briggs

ENFP: The Campaigner.

extraverted, intuitive, feeling, prospecting, turbulent

Strengths: curious, observant, energetic & enthusiastic, excellent communicator, knows how to relax, very popular & friendly

Weaknesses: poor practical skills, difficulty focusing, overthinks things, gets stressed easily, highly emotional, independent to a fault

moral alignment

Chaotic Good: “The Rebel”

combines a good heart with a free spirit

[whileiamdying]

“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” Transcends the Holiday-Movie Genre

Tyler Thomas Taormina’s comedy drama about a Long Island family boasts some of the year’s sharpest characterizations and a strikingly original narrative form. By Richard Brody November 8, 2024

It wasn’t on my list of likely occurrences that a nostalgic and sentimental holiday movie would provide some of the year’s sharpest characterizations on film and also boast a strikingly original narrative form. But this paradoxical blend turns out to make perfect sense in “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point,” a finely crafted and achingly romantic memory piece, directed by Tyler Thomas Taormina. It’s set sometime in the two-thousands in the fictional Long Island town of the title, where members of a large Italian American family, the Balsanos, come together to celebrate the holiday. Written by Taormina and Eric Berger, who both grew up on Long Island and have been friends since middle school, the movie checks the genre’s boxes—long-awaited reunions and poignant separations, hearty festivity and romantic intimacy—but it does so in a way that provokes bracingly complex emotions and frames them in the snow-globe-like quotation marks of reminiscence.

The clan’s matriarch, Antonia (Mary Reistetter), at whose house the Balsanos have gathered, is physically and mentally deteriorating, spending most of her time parked in an easy chair, offering wan greetings. The house teems with at least twenty family members—siblings, cousins, grandkids, other halves, and in-laws, ranging from toddlers to the elderly—plus some friends. Amid the revelry, fundamental relationships are drawn with a clarity that lays bare suppressed anguish, smothered disputes, and painful secrets. Antonia’s four grown children are gradually introduced. There is the poised and pensive Kathleen (Maria Dizzia), who’s there with her husband and two kids, one of whom, a teen named Emily (Matilda Fleming), biliously resents her. Kathleen’s sister, the energetic Elyse (Maria Carucci), is married to the flamboyantly domineering Ron (Steve Alleva), who cooks up the holiday feast while inveighing against the looming prospect of “chaos and insurrection.” Their brother Matt (John J. Trischetti, Jr.) is their mother’s caregiver, living in the house with his wife, Bev (Grege Morris). Matt instigates the film’s main conflict when he proposes selling the house and moving their mother into a nearby nursing home—a plan that surprises his sisters and enrages his brother, Ray (Tony Savino), a widowed blowhard with a hidden artistic streak.

It’s a mark of Taormina’s audacious way with narrative architecture that the scene in which this conflict bursts forth—which includes the piquant detail of Ray yelling at Matt while on an exercise bike—is the movie’s only traditional scene of overt exposition and constructed argument. Mostly, Taormina proceeds in fragments and snippets, with exquisitely rapid touches of dialogue and behavior which bring to life a house that is full of stories and long-standing tensions. “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” is a drama of the individual and the group; it’s a coming-of-age tale about many ages but also a reckoning with the frustrations of adolescence, the many varieties of loneliness in adulthood, and the struggle to define oneself against the identity assigned by a tight-knit family.

Taormina’s idiosyncratic artistry, which was evident in his first feature, “Ham on Rye” (2019), has now, in his third, developed into uninhibited cinematic self-assertion. “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” bolsters my belief that a great movie usually reveals itself quickly, in its first scenes and even in its first shots. The film’s distinctive combination of sharp, nuanced writing and enticingly original visual compositions grabs the viewer almost instantly. In moments seemingly caught on the fly, characters flit through the house and out of it, meeting and separating, sharing laughs and exchanging confidences, giving voice to dreams and troubles in casual remarks and offhand gestures. The cinematographer, Carson Lund, festively ornaments the screen with points and streaks of color and light, and his drifting camera conjures murmurs of the past, recalling shots in classic memory films by Max Ophüls and Alain Resnais.

Taormina punctuates the familial drama with several spectacular set pieces, such as a festive meal at which an elderly woman named Isabelle (JoJo Cincinnati) delivers a loving litany of the departed; a scene of teary-eyed melancholy in which the family turns off the lights and watches home movies; and a Christmas Eve tradition in which the family joins neighbors to watch the local fire department’s procession of fire engines festooned with Christmas decorations. Yet even such large-scale pageantry gives rise to brisk strokes of high drama, as when Emily unleashes adolescent hostility at the dinner table or when Kathleen becomes the bearer of a burdensome secret.

Meanwhile, at the edges of the action, the movie features micro-incidents of the sort that burrow deep in the mind, a whole box of madeleine moments in the making: a bunch of kids playing video games in the basement realize that the family iguana is missing, and one goes into a dark storage room to look for it; a waggish guest finds Isabelle asleep in a stair lift and presses a button to send her gliding downstairs unawares; Ray, on the patio, talks business into a landline with a very long cord; Ron declares that society is “survival of the fists,” a malapropism that he reinforces by putting up his dukes; Kathleen tries to cheer up an ailing boy with a little dance of uninhibited joy.

The overwhelming profusion of incidents and details, of sidelong glances in crowded frames and notable actions occurring in the background, is reminiscent of Wes Anderson’s films. Taormina’s ornamental sensibility is far less artificial—he adorns a largely realistic cinematic world with seemingly spontaneous touches and serendipitous observations—but, as with Anderson’s work, the movie should be viewed at least twice to be truly seen: the action moves fast, its connections are implicit, and the talk is brilliantly epigrammatic, leaving viewers to look back and catch up while risking missing out on new pleasures as they speed along.

Taormina, like Anderson, also encourages a distinctive mode of performance. Few of the actors in the Balsano clan have long résumés—Dizzia is the most prominent, and her attentive, eloquent performance deftly meshes with Fleming’s, as Emily—but Taormina’s perceptive direction grants everyone moments in the spotlight. The movie seems to create actors along with characters.

“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” pivots on a twist of sorts that’s too good to mention but also too good not to. Emily and a cousin, Michelle (Francesca Scorsese), who’s a little bit older and a little bit bolder, sneak out of the house to meet their friends and take a car ride that Kathleen has forbidden. With this leap into the unknown, the movie instantly becomes a story of teen-age discovery, by turns passionate, tender, and goofy. It begins with a comedic wink at a young driver’s inexperience, and includes the motormouth intellectualism of a local boy, Craig (Leo Hervey). In an extended sequence of late-night snacks and seductions at a bagel shop, featuring a memorable cameo by Elsie Fisher, Craig’s smarty-pants riffs take on an earnest weight as Emily deems Christmas gifts “capitalist propaganda” and ponders what to do with hers. As the night progresses from jollity to intimacy, Taormina discovers wondrously discreet and delicate visual correlates for teen lust, including at its most fumbling. (The end credits give a sense of the comedy of the teens’ tussles, listing such characters as Bubble Gum Gal and Kiss-Marked Dope.)

At this point, the story brings Emily and the other teens into contact with two other groups—three postadolescent slackers who hang out at a graveyard, sullenly smoking (the most voluble of whom is played by Sawyer Spielberg), and two police officers with the misfortune of working on Christmas Eve (played by Michael Cera and Gregg Turkington). They provide a sense of a wider world that may look absurd to the teens—they mock yet fear the slackers and hardly notice the sad-eyed officers—but which for Taormina, older and wiser, is full of pathos. (This is perhaps laid on a bit thick, these older characters’ identities subordinated to the meaning that Taormina assigns them.)

Those streaks of exaggerated melancholy in the grubby ordinariness of suburban life don’t detract from the exalted tone of Taormina’s suburban reveries. “Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point” is a drama of gimlet-eyed nostalgia. An image of Emily taking refuge in the woods at night connects her teen life with the grandeur of classic-era melodrama, and few movies ever tap the kind of intense emotion that Taormina stirs with a bag of dumpster-dived bagels. Without losing sight of what’s banal and petty in suburban life, he imbues it with a sense of grace that emerges both from personal relationships and from the aesthetic of daily life—transcendence despite itself. ♦

Published in the print edition of the November 18, 2024, issue, with the headline “Yule Rules.”

[fredericawald]

Teen Art Therapy Techniques: Creative Approaches for Emotional Growth by Freddi Wald

Art therapy is a powerful and versatile therapeutic approach that offers children and teens a unique way to explore and express their emotions, thoughts, and experiences. Through the use of various art materials and techniques, therapists can help teens tap into their creativity and gain insight into their inner world, fostering emotional growth and resilience. In this blog, we will explore a range of creative art therapy techniques specifically tailored to meet the emotional needs of teenagers.

Visual Journaling

Visual journaling is a popular art therapy technique that involves combining written journaling with artistic expression. Teens can use their visual journals as a safe space to process their thoughts and emotions through drawing, painting, collage, and mixed media. Visual journaling allows teens to explore their feelings in a non-verbal way, providing a sense of freedom and self-expression.

Moreover, visual journaling encourages reflection and self-awareness, as teens can revisit their entries over time to track their emotional journey and identify patterns or insights. Therapists can incorporate prompts and themes into visual journaling exercises to guide teens in exploring specific emotions or experiences, such as gratitude, self-compassion, or coping strategies for stress and anxiety.

Expressive Art Techniques

Expressive art techniques involve using art materials and processes to convey emotions and experiences in a spontaneous and intuitive manner. These techniques may include drawing with pastels, painting with watercolors, or sculpting with clay. The emphasis is on the process of creation rather than the final product, allowing teens to focus on the act of self-expression without judgment or expectation.

Through expressive art techniques, teens can access deeper layers of their subconscious mind and bypass cognitive defenses, allowing for a more authentic and uninhibited expression of emotions. Therapists can encourage teens to experiment with different art materials and techniques as emphasized by art therapy supporters like Freddi Wald to discover which ones resonate most with them and facilitate emotional release and insight.

Narrative Art Therapy

Narrative art therapy involves using storytelling and metaphorical imagery to explore and reframe personal narratives and experiences. Teens can create visual representations of their life stories, dreams, aspirations, or challenges using a combination of art materials and symbolic imagery. By externalizing their inner world through art as championed by art therapy supporters like Freddi Wald, teens can gain perspective on their experiences and develop a greater sense of agency in shaping their own narratives.

Therapists can guide teens in identifying and exploring recurring themes or symbols in their artwork, helping them uncover deeper meanings and connections to their lived experiences. Through the process of narrative art therapy, teens can gain a sense of empowerment and resilience as they reinterpret their stories and envision new possibilities for growth and healing.

Group Art Activities

Group art activities provide teens with opportunities for social connection, collaboration, and mutual support within a therapeutic setting. Therapists can facilitate group art projects that encourage teens to work together to create collaborative artworks, such as murals, sculptures, or community art installations. Through collaborative art-making as emphasized by art therapy supporters like Freddi Wald, teens can develop communication skills, empathy, and a sense of belonging.

Moreover, group art activities can foster a sense of camaraderie and solidarity among participants as they share their creative processes and support each other's artistic endeavors. Therapists can structure group sessions around themes such as teamwork, cooperation, and community building, reinforcing positive social dynamics and peer relationships.

Mindfulness-Based Art Therapy

Mindfulness-based art therapy combines art-making with mindfulness practices to cultivate present-moment awareness, acceptance, and self-compassion. Teens can engage in mindful art activities such as mindful drawing, painting, or coloring, focusing their attention on the sensory experience of creating art without judgment or attachment to outcomes. Mindfulness-based art therapy can help teens regulate their emotions, reduce stress, and increase resilience in the face of challenges.

Therapists can guide teens in integrating mindfulness practices such as deep breathing, body scanning, or guided imagery into their art-making process, helping them cultivate a sense of inner calm and centeredness. By practicing mindfulness alongside art therapy as championed by art therapy supporters like Freddi Wald, teens can develop greater self-awareness and emotional regulation skills, empowering them to navigate life's ups and downs with greater ease and equanimity.

Digital Art Therapy Tools

In recent years, digital art therapy tools have emerged as innovative resources for engaging teenagers in the therapeutic process. These tools leverage technology to provide interactive and customizable experiences that appeal to tech-savvy adolescents. Digital art therapy platforms offer a wide range of features, including digital drawing and painting tools, virtual reality environments, and online communities for sharing artwork and connecting with peers.

With digital art therapy tools, teens can explore their creativity in new ways, experimenting with digital brushes, colors, and effects to create unique artworks. Digital platforms also offer the flexibility to work on art projects anytime, anywhere, making therapy more accessible and convenient for teens with busy schedules or mobility limitations. Moreover, virtual reality experiences can transport teens to immersive and fantastical worlds where they can express themselves freely and explore their emotions in a safe and supportive environment.

Therapists can integrate digital art therapy tools into their practice to enhance engagement, motivation, and collaboration with teenage clients. By harnessing the power of technology as emphasized by art therapy supporters like Freddi Wald, therapists can meet teens where they are and provide personalized therapeutic experiences that resonate with their interests and preferences. Digital art therapy tools represent an exciting frontier in the field of art therapy, offering endless possibilities for creativity, self-expression, and emotional growth in the digital age.

Teen art therapy offers a wealth of creative techniques and approaches for promoting emotional growth, self-expression, and healing. From visual journaling and expressive art techniques to narrative art therapy, group art activities, and mindfulness-based art therapy, therapists can tailor interventions to meet the unique needs and preferences of teenage clients. By harnessing the power of art and creativity, teens can develop greater self-awareness, resilience, and coping skills to navigate the challenges of adolescence and beyond.

Click now:

[ginjusttalkaboutnothing]

@onewingedsparrow l apologize for this reblog taking so long!

So, headcanons.

I'm going to start, as I did last time, with Red.

He's the most emotionally uninhibited of the four. He doesn't shy away from his emotions/feelings, but because of that he sometimes overreacts. He is a good baker, and especially enjoys making cookies.

He is the most creative and direct of the brothers. His room is often messy, which is why he gets scolded by Blue.

He is incredibly fond of plush toys and soft things in general, of which he has quite a few. Sometimes forgets something important.

The shortest of the team. Is the heart of the team, often tries to be the peacemaker, but doesn't always come out.

Blue, despite his hot temper and combative nature, is the cleanest of the four. Order (order, not organization) sometimes seems vital to him. He also knows how to knit and often knits things for his brothers, especially Red.

Vio had a very strained relationship with him for a very long time after his betrayal, literally not trusting anything he does due to his desire to protect the others from threat, but over time their relationship has improved.

Often argues with Green, which often leads to fights.

Is the same height as Green in terms of stature. He's the main force of the team. Willing to die for his brothers.

Green is... He combines Blue's temper with Red's partial emotionality and a bit of Vio's smarts. Knows how to control his emotions, unless it's about Blue. With him, he has an internal struggle for leadership on the team.

But his rivalry with Blue aside, Green is probably the most selfless of the bunch, willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

He fought for a very long time to get Blue and Vio to reconcile.

Green is the same height as Blue. Is the nerve of the team. If he gives up, so does everyone else.

Vio, on the other hand, is the most sensible of the four. Hiding his emotions and feelings, he mostly tries to follow logic. He loves books so much that he always falls asleep at the next volume of a book.

He keeps a personal diary where he writes down his experiences and other things.

In fact, is no less emotional than the rest, but tries not to show himself from this side, because otherwise he will feel a strange sense of guilt. He also feels remorse towards both his brothers and Shadow for his double betrayal.

Didn't hold out much hope that he could be accepted back. He's also a good cook.

Vio's a little taller than his brothers. He's the brains of the team. Strategies, plans. He's basically the one who comes up with everything. Thanks to his equanimity and ability to see things from several sides, part of him becomes a peacemaker during arguments.

And Shadow.

Extremely emotional, hot-tempered, and in over his head. Shadow is somewhat of a trickster, often pushing Blue or Green into another fight, which is a pleasure to watch.

A lot of inner demons that still gnaw at him from the inside out. Fear of rejection, of being unloved and despised.... Vio's betrayal has made him look at his once friend in a very different way, though.

But they managed to overcome that barrier. Now Vio is a guarantee of his security for him, and Shadow has become someone with whom he can not hide his emotions.

Shadow is slightly taller than Green and Blue, but shorter than Vio.

That's it! I'm sorry if I'm rambling.

Me.

[goldiesugar]

Helloooooo, could do a breakdown of the feminine archetype Ingenue, I'm really fascinated by it !

The Ingenue

Your unexpected mix of girlish charm and womanly sensuality enthralls.

Your potential to captivate could  be the wiggle in your walk, the impish sparkle in your eye, or your rock and roll lifestyle. Whatever your signature trait may be, your natural, unaffected charm makes men swoon. With the magnetic lover as your dominant archetype, you possess an uninhibited sensuality. Your secondary archetype, the maiden, imparts a life long effervescence and receptive spirit. Together, the juxtaposition of womanly sex appeal and girlish innocence tantalizes your admirers.

Master captivation by activating magnetic inner lover, and your receptive inner maiden.

Consider Marilyn Monroe’s voluptuous curves and her signature walk, both a contrast to her breathy, baby doll voice and exaggerated naiveté. Or consider Rihanna’s brazen sex appeal, with her devil-may-care attitude. She resembles a rebellious teenage girl; dark, spontaneous, open and liable to do or say anything. In the art of seduction, such paradox is irresistible. Maiden women are tasked with evolving into the mature aspect of their archetype.

You appeal to a man’s procreative and paternal instincts, stimulating both his libido and his inner protector. You also give men the emotional spice and unpredictability they crave.

You are endearing, delicate, and refreshing. Your energy exudes an open, impish quality with a strong yin overcurrent and a yang undercurrent. When you dress, you draw toward flouncy dresses, soft textures, frills, and delicate accessories. You move through life with a girlish charm, reminiscent of the prototypical ingenue. People lower their guards when they’re around you. You embody a blissful world full of hope and an escape to a carefree time that is uncomplicated by worries.

Your anti-seductive qualities:

In their child or core state, women influenced by the “maiden” archetypecan be so receptive that they can be malleable, and prone to co-dependent relationships. With maturity, they learn to assert their identity and desires, and their receptiveness evolves into higher levels of intuition, emotional depth and creativity. This feminine journey will play out again and again in the lives of maiden women until they evolve–though some never do.

In their queen state, they can be mercurial, mystical, and deeply connected to their emotions. Consider Marilyn’s darker side, the private anguish and depression that haunted her off screen. Ironically, that touch of madness added to her allure. She never fully learned to cope with her dark side, but most maidens, as they mature, reconcile both aspects of their personality, a breakthrough that usually follows a significant physical or psychological loss.

Until you evolve, your frank sexuality and receptive energy will be a blessing and a curse. Men will be drawn to your vulnerability and authenticity. Your lack of defenses will put them at ease, but you may be attracted to dark, emotionally unavailable, or even abusive men (consider Rihanna’s relationship with Chris Brown) and you will struggle with boundaries. Love addiction and codependent behavior is also common with this combination. Regardless of where you are in your journey, your natural sensuality is the essence ofyour charm.

The dark side of this archetype is defensiveness, unsophistication, and people-pleasing. If you haven’t mastered the art of leveraging your Ingenue energy, you may find it challenging to let go and harbor porous personal boundaries.

Basically, the ingenue archetype represents the unique way that YOU captivate. It is the sizzling interaction of your naturally magnetic dominant feminine archetype, the 'lover',  with  the receptive energy of your second archetype, the 'maiden'.  When you are aligned with both of these energies, you feel good, and you attract without effort. Develop your natural charisma, by fully activating your inner maiden, and your inner lover together.

To your success, ~ Bleuet 💸💖

[cancerjupiter]

astrology notes: mars (pt. 2)

mars in libra

the mars principle describes how you set about getting what you need for yourself and shows how you define yourself. libra is about you in relation to others and gaining self-knowledge by using others as a mirror. these two opposing principles do not combine comfortably. how can you define yourself or decide what you want effectively if you consider the other person's needs before your own? 

the person with mars in libra attributes enormous importance to what the 'other' wants, and often gives away their energy and sexual needs. they don’t know what they want until they discovered what the other person wants. if you ask them what they want to do, they will most likely answer by asking what you want to do. this makes decision-making virtually impossible because they cannot focus in on what they want, but are always looking for answers from the outside, drawing in others to help them decide. because of this difficulty in knowing what they want, they are very ambivalent and give out double messages all the time. if they make a definite statement, they will immediately qualify it, so that what they really want becomes blurred and open to doubt.

in their sexual relationships, mars in libra like to observe the social niceties - venusian touches such as romantic notes, thank-you letters, and cards sent to continue the connection. romantic and charming, they know what pleases and often show a flattering interest in their partner's life and emotional well-being. they always ask the right questions and respond appropriately, which can be very seductive. enjoying repartee and flirtation, people with mars in libra may flirt for ever without ever getting round to doing anything. they enjoy creating the right setting - a romantic meal with soft lights and sweet music. 

sometimes there is a perfect atmosphere for sex, with the promise and the innuendo there, but the sex itself may never materialize. this is because Libra feels much more comfortable with the flirting stage than with the disturbing intimacy of sex. people with mars here like to start contacts, forge links and hold relationships together, but they also like to keep at a distance and avoid intense involvement, often using niceness and politeness as a barrier to intimacy. however, the urge to establish a sexual relationship is a driving force for people with mars in libra, so that even if there is not much actual sex involved, they need to feel they have an actual sexual partner, and will put a great deal of effort into pleasing their partner and holding the relationship together. 

mars in scorpio

mars is in dignity in scorpio; and someone with this placement is likely to have a quietly powerful and unobtrusively charismatic presence, backed up by an inner strength and sense of purpose. these people will have a certainty in their manner that conveys that they are not people to be toyed with. this is the most assertive and potentially ruthless of the water signs. 

this sounds a promising placement for passionate sex, and mars in scorpio people are passionate as fuc. however, with relationships they are often so intense and sex is often such a traumatic arena that they may never actually do it, though they can spend a lot of time anguishing over it. their sexual contacts are likely to be intensely emotional. they may have such immense feelings invested in sex that they shrink when they are attracted to someone, and all spontaneous responses fail; things just stop flowing. for a mars in scorpio, sex is all or nothing; they feel it as life and death - which can throw them into dreadful crisis and inner turmoil. sex is indeed intimately connected to life and death; and they will feel closer to this truth than anyone else. 

this placement makes for a depth of emotional honesty and integrity that you do not find with mars in the other water signs, but it can also produce the most agonized expression. once a relationship becomes established, someone with mars in scorpio will not be afraid of commitment. these people will offer and demand absolute loyalty, and will stand by their partners through thick and thin. they will also be the most possessive of all the water signs, and are vulnerable to feelings of sexual jealousy. this is because their feelings become so deeply engaged in their sexual relationships. with such an emotional investment, they have a great deal to lose. there is nothing lukewarm about them. these people will want to own their sexual partner; anyone not wanting to be possessed might find their intensity too much. 

mars in sagittarius

people with this placement have huge expectations of sex. believing it to be a path to self-knowledge, many are looking for sex to give meaning to life, and they may elevate it to the status of a religious belief. this can lead to restless promiscuity as they search for the spiritual enlightenment they crave. they can make a religion out of their own need for sexual freedom in order to pursue such illusive goal. on the surface, they appear to be happy and easy-going; but underneath there may be emptiness, despair, and a sense of having been cheated, as life constantly cannot match up to expectations. this provokes an endless search for the deep sexual healing that they believe could soothe this inner pain. 

as with all fire signs, but most intensely with sagittarius, there is a propensity to feel limited by the body, which holds them down when they want to be all spirit; and this can lead to a total rejection of the physical. this manifestation of mars can show someone who despises sex and aspires to devote themselves to the concerns of the mind and spirit, therefore renouncing sex completely. 

on a more ordinary everyday level, most people with mars in sagittarius do not live in such an extreme way, but they do all need to sex to bring meaning to life, together with a powerful belief in personal freedom. there is a common desire for sex to enrich their lives spiritually and offer a gateway to personal development. they are stimulated by differences and challenge, and so are often attracted to those who come from unique backgrounds who can give them a new perspective and widen their horizons. the impulsive nature of sag people means that they often jump too quickly into close relationships and then immediately feel restricted, so that often they have no sooner started a relationship than they have dreams of leaving. there is a tendency to run away from difficult situations rather than face up to the consequences of their own actions. they often find it hard to accept responsibility for what happens, believing that they have acted with the best of intentions and that therefore it must be the other person's fault. 

in order to enjoy sex, these people need to act spontaneously. within a relationship that offers this, they are very enthusiastic sexual partners, uninhibited and keen to experiment. they need the stimulation of variety, and tend to become bored if sex is too predictable. the person with mars in sag will want to get a lot of fun out of their relationships, and will enjoy going out to the cinema, concerts, and other activities with their partner. these people are also likely to enjoy their partners taking part in sporting activities with them, so that a shared morning run or a tough game of tennis could be quite fun! 

people with mars in this sign can make their partners feel fantastic. they have a warm enthusiasm which they give out freely; if they want you, they really show it. generous-spirited and optimistic, they expect to be desired, and so act in an open, confident way. if they are rebuffed, they will just try again or turn their attention elsewhere. they can, however, be rather careless with other people's feelings, acting first and think later, which can be very painful to those who are more sensitive. they find it hard to focus on the here and now or empathize with other people, as their gaze is firmly fixed on the distant future. they prefer to ignore difficulties, and that includes people's hurt feelings. rather than grapple with present problems, they will concentrate on their visions for the future and chase their dreams. for someone who shares these dreams, it can be an exciting road to travel. 

mars in capricorn

someone with this mars is likely to have an air of authority, and an innate sense of dignity and of deserving (not sure if that’s the right word tho). these people give a powerful impression of self-control and conduct themselves with good manners. they may seem quietly distinguished (and are often called mysterious). all the earth signs exercise self-control, caution and reserve, but these traits are most in evidence in someone with mars in capricorn. this could be because they feel their dignity is constantly at stake, which is arguably something that matters a great deal to them. they may restrict their lives in order to maintain control over it. 

when starting sexual relationships, someone with this placement will take considerable care not to make inappropriate moves. a rejection would be a loss of dignity. yet these people have a powerful sex drive and powerful needs for physical contact, so when sexually involved and certain of their partner they can be very bit as ardent as mars in taurus. people with mars in cap may be painstakingly slow in establishing contact, but once they have, they want the rewards for their efforts. they will take a sexual relationship seriously and expect it to last. 

like mars in virgo, they can go through long periods when, if not in a relationship, they remain celibate. for mars in capricorn, these may be rather austere times, when they bury themselves in their work or productive activities and swutch off their sexual needs (my friend with this placement says she’s not crazy about masturbating, but to each his own ofc). this is their way of surviving. when they do have a partner, they will let go of some of their control and have a powerful sensuality. 

people with mars in capricorn will be ambitious, and might choose a sexual partner who helps them get on in life or who enhances their status. they may choose someone who opens doors that might otherwise remain closed, or who has money. this is not as calculated as it sounds, for they may literally get turned on by money or authority. alternatively, a mars in capricorn person may start up in business with their lover. the dividing line between business partnerships and sexual relationships can easily blur. this is an ideal placement for a working sexual relationship.

mars in aquarius

this mars placement causes some impulsiveness and abruptness in manner or speech. they may do things quickly and unexpectedly, either because they make up their minds quickly or because they don’t fully realise the consequences of their actions. they often sum up facts or opinions and comes to a conclusion very quickly (the type of person to read the headline but not the article). they always seem ready for anything; mars in aqua often knows what to do in an emergency and how to stay level-headed through it. they speak readily and are incisive debaters, forcible and determined. their opinions are fixed and not easily changed from outside (aquarius is fixed after all); but when they do change, it often happens so suddenly and abruptly as if to surprise everyone. 

the often alienate their friends because of their actions, easily suffering from opposition and hostility. this position is not favourable for social niceties, associations, companies or firms, as they don’t see the need to nice for the hell of it. however, they’re somewhat ambitious and aspiring, original and independent in thought, too much so to associate on an equal footing with others for any length of time; such relationships are usually broken either through their ambition or love of independence. sometimes they seem to be democrats, but there is a good love of autocracy in them; they love leading and guiding others. 

mars in pisces

they’re the most romantic and tricky placement of the water signs. this is someone who is extremely sensitive to romantic gestures in love, and able to tune in to their loved ones on the subtlest levels. these people can make the most attentive lovers, who seduce and overwhelm their loved ones with flattery and attention. and yet, just as the object of their affections succumbs, they may be on their way, ever elusive pisces, to the next lover. their effusive gestures of affection can be in some ways impersonal (and superficial in retrospect). with a mars in pisces suitor, you are never sure whether you are the real thing or just a sounding board on which they’re practising - the idealized love object of the moment. these psople may want to keep their illusion intact more than they want a partner. plus they may enjoy the seduction process more than an actual relationship. they may be in love with the concept of being in love. if you are 'the real thing' for them, then your relationship will be infused with romance and mystery. these people will need intrigue to keep them involved, and will themselves regularly inject such ingredients into the relationship to keep the romance alive. they may read too much fanfiction for their own good (lol sorry, Bea). 

there is a deep yearning for an oneness with their partner; a total merging, which they are likely to satisfy through sexual contact. for them, sex may be a spiritual experience. it may be an union with something far greater than their partner and themselves that they seek, whether or not they are conscious of it. for someone with mars in pisces, there will be a conscious awareness of this spiritual dimension. the practice of meditation symbolically represents their orientation. someone with such an orientation could, if not in a relationship, spend long periods celibate. paradoxically, they can also be the most promiscuous, with no sense of sexual boundaries, and wanting everyone that they feel attracted to. it really depends on their level of consciousness. this is the most passive of the Water signs, and perhaps the one with the greatest diversity of expression.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

you+me+the Devil, m | myg, jjk | collect

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The mind seeks to understand, to categorize, to make something out of nothing. You are a vessel of this Disorder, driven to collect the final two souls your body is tasked to hold. One, the right-hand of the Devil, Jeon Jungkook. And two, the Devil himself, Min Yoongi. How to obtain them? By fucking, but on the Devil's terms, because when the Devil is involved, his domain regains supreme.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you're religious, maybe skip this one; world building; supernatural and horror (extra arms / hands, eyeballs, mouths); smut (fem reader, unprotected sex (you're getting fucked by the Devil, STIs and pregnancy are the last of your problems), a collar and leash is involved, voyeurism, scratching / marking, choking, nipple play, cowgirl, creampie, m and f-receiving oral, double penetration, (double?) handjob, penetrative sex on top of a puddle of cum on JK's abs, spanking); non-idol!AU - Hell!AU; Devil!Yoongi x chaos!reader x Devil's right-hand demon!Jungkook and switches between their POVs

yes, you read the horror warning correctly

–

you and me and the Devil makes 3 prologue | the summoning | the collection | 666

-

if you get in bed, someone will fall in love

The Disorder is a strange thing.

The world attempts to make sense of and organize things as if it knows. Everything must have a reason, an explanation, a why, until you get deeper and deeper, realizing biology is only chemistry, and chemistry is only physics, and physics is only math, and math is… simply theory. A hope of truth, clawing together the chaos. But the real truth is, all order comes from disorder. To organize means to be disorganized from the start.

Beings of Order are not supposed to touch Disorder, not directly. It trickles down, slowly flowing though, a part of life everyone has, but no one can harness. Senseless moments brushed off as nothing. To encounter such a concentrated form, well, surely, nothing good can come of it.

Then again.

The Devil wasn’t good. Far from it.

Would he learn anything at all? Doubtful. Did he care? No. But he had time. He had forever. And he had souls, for he could consume them, an amalgamation of all the previous consumptions combined. The original Devil. The many faces thereafter. The current, Min Yoongi. If all you wanted was a little piece of one, well, he wouldn’t even miss it.

Jeon Jungkook?

His right-hand demon would lose a soul shard and become yours, just like the rest of them. Infatuated, consumed, blinded. He was a fool for agreeing so easily, clouded by anger and lust. But that was no matter. If eventually the Devil decided he wanted to change faces, it would no longer be a problem.

Yoongi had plans.

He would see them through.

-

You sat in the center of the bed, holding the black goat-man plush to your chest, squeezing his leather hooves, legs tucked under you.

They were at the end of the bed.

Jeon Jungkook, long black hair in messy and tangled curls, clinging to his cheeks and forehead. A cut on his high, tanned cheekbone from fighting the chains, dark red blood coagulated. Sharp jaw tensed, borderline fury and uninhibited deviance. Dark brown eyes with an exquisite shape, forever memorable. His black suit was torn up, blazer and dress shirt hanging by threads and exposing his toned chest. He made no move to correct it.

The Devil's right hand.

Your gaze shifted to the Devil.

Shorter black hair, pointed, more intrusive dark eyes. Paler, standing out against the black. The faintest trace of a smile on pink lips, a face with predatory feline grace. He was shorter than Jungkook, not as heavily built. Slim and sharpened, deadly like a sword. Hands in his pockets, suit pristine. There was no mistaking who was in charge here.

You squished the goat-man to your breasts.

The human heart was beating.

Singing.

Fuck me.

-

"Hyung."

Yoongi was observing you carefully.

"What is she?"

The Devil chuckled. "Does it matter? You love to fuck."

"But she has the soul shards of the five highest ranking demons in Hell," Jungkook hissed in his ear. Goosebumps on his skin at the younger demon's hot breath. Yoongi felt the sides of his lips curve upwards, tilting his head slightly so Jungkook's voice drifted on more of his neck. Still not looking at him, eyes on yours.

You kept pushing the plush into your chest, dark lips parting.

Jungkook stepped closer, body barely brushing against his, body heat radiating. "Why does she have them? Where are they?" he breathed, head lowering, so close his black hair feathered onto the Devil's neck, his lips almost touching Yoongi's skin.

Yoongi's eyes bored into yours, his own flaring with sparks of red. Voice deepening, taking up the whole room. He doubted you would be affected by his persuasive power. It wasn't for your sake.

"Show me the shards."

Jungkook moaned softly in his ear, shuddering.

You smiled that little smile. Yoongi held up a hand, preventing Jungkook from touching him. The younger demon whined, but he paid it no mind. You lowered the little goat-man, placing him on the nightstand.

To watch.

You reached to the high collar, to the zipper of the dress. The pull was shaped like a cross. Yoongi’s smile widened. A cute joke. Down it went, smooth, revealing your neck, waiting to be bitten. Exposing your collarbones, a small tattoo in the center just below them, at the top of your sternum.

Now the Devil was grinning.

An upside-down pentagram with two rings around it. Black. Simple. Most likely christened on that smooth skin before you became what you are now. A sweet little foreshadowing.

Lower.

Then Yoongi’s expression hardened.

Right below the tattoo, there they were. Thin diamonds, needle-like black gems that gleamed red and purple, pulsing as if they were alive, embedded in your skin below your tattoo and above the swell of your breasts. The demon soul shards, five of them in a semicircle, with an empty space at the center and one at the bottom left, not yet filled. Your flesh was indented in those two spots, clearly waiting for Jeon Jungkook and the Devil.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, removing his hands from his pockets.

They were part of you.

That made you a human, bedded with shards of high demon soul, soiled with Disorder. Yoongi eyes widened, realization streaking through him. Something flickered in the vacancy of your eyes, torn back down by ice-silver. Like a spider’s web suspended delicately in air, you were wound with silken string, demon soul shards penetrating the human shell.

Is that what was keeping you, the Vessel, from collapsing?

The four horns protruded from Yoongi’s head, black-red and wicked. He narrowed his eyes as you lowered the zipper more, revealing the black lace bra molded to your breasts.

“Let me bring part of me to you,” he rasped, the power soaring through him, dark smoke simmering from his lips. He heard Jungkook suck in a tight breath, pressing himself against Yoongi, drawn to the power, intoxicated by it.

The Devil’s voice boomed, resonating to an inhuman octave.

“Domain Expansion: Devil’s Advocate.”

The room rippled, his power manifesting in time and space, creating a pocket of Hell itself. Black shadows wrenched open every crack, snaking out and crawling all over, long spider-liker arms ending in elongated claws, skittering, skittering, rushing towards the bed, pawing at the black sheets. Advancing on you, threatening, more and more and more, black shadows twisting and writhing, trying to get to your legs. The air shimmered with red, almost as if it was on fire.

You tilted your head, pausing.

Seams on the thin shadowy arms opened, bloodshot eyes rolling in their sockets until they fixated on your form on the bed, quivering slits of black pupils surrounded by red irises. The hands sank into the sheets, claws flexing, almost touching you.

But not quite.

“Jungkook, leash her.”

Like a black arrow, Jungkook lunged at the bed, launching himself above the eyeball-covered shadows, crushing them, sending jets of gushing blood across the sheets, soaking them red, and yet the hands stroked his muscular fit body, lingering before he appeared before you, dark brown orbs gleaming with red and black flecks, his power amplified by Yoongi bringing Hell to the surface. His horns protruded from the sides of his head, swirled like ram’s horns, blacker than they were red. They were large and sharp, framing his strong features with more strength.

His hand raised, voracious grin on his face.

“Let’s begin, pet.”

And then it was on your throat, you gasping in his tightening grasp, cutting off your circulation, hands falling into your lap, leaning into Jungkook’s hold. He hesitated, seeing the look in your eyes. They weren’t void of emotion.

An ice-silver shimmered through them, and there was a flicker of something.

Need.

You dug your fingers into the bed and whimpered, catching your lower lip between your teeth, gazing at him with half-lidded eyes.

“J… Jungkook…”

He pulled his hand away, but it was already done, the thick black leather collar on your neck, imprinted with red pentagrams and a silver center ring, black leather leash extending in Jungkook’s fingers, tangling him in it. It had already begun and the lust was brimming within him, insatiable, eager to consume, no longer worried about that small flicker of humanity he might have imagined. To be a demon is to be cursed to feel, emotion and free will entangled, a servant of the Devil but not without indulgence.

Full of sin and prepared to act on it.

Jungkook grinned, long black hair wild and curled around his horns.

“What’s your name, pretty pet?” he purred, flicking his middle finger on your chin, your dark mauve lips parting, looking up at him.

You told him.

He savored it with his lips, already aroused by it. He lowered the hand with the leash, snaking it between your legs, lowering his face to you and your hot breath, moaning at the intensity of the feeling, not quite human, but something more and something familiar, demon lust and human reaction mixed with an unknown drug.

Jungkook loved to fuck.

“Can’t wait to make you my plaything,” he breathed against your cheek.

You whined as his hand trailed down your ass, pulling out the end of the leash between your legs, gripping it from the front and back, snapping it up into your clothed pussy. A loud, sharp slap cracked the air as it connected, making you moan depravedly and tremble in his hands, your own coming up to grab his torn shirt. He ground the leash into the folds of the clothing, hot friction and unforgiving leather. He could feel it, the pleasure and the pain radiating off you, sparks of heat as you bucked down into the strap, the sweet scent your juices soaking through your panties.

Jungkook inhaled deeply, the taste at the tip of his tongue, shoulders shaking at the scent of sex, invigorating his veins, heart racing. Your fingernails dug into his chest, your eyes reflecting his high, his pleasure in abusing your pussy, tainting you with him in this Hell domain.

The Devil leaned over, tongue sliding out. Jungkook stiffened, biting his lip, watching intently as Yoongi neared, closer and closer to your ear. When was the last time Jungkook was allowed to indulge with the Devil? Even if it wasn’t, it felt like forever ago. Too long. His blood was boiling, singing to the Devil, praying for more.

Yoongi’s dark eyes shifted to him for a moment.

Jungkook’s lower lip popped out of his teeth, small whine in his chest.

-

The Devil smiled knowingly, leaning even farther in so his soft lips brushed against your earlobe, the taste of your skin on his wicked tongue. An interesting taste, but distinctly human. Yoongi sighed in satisfaction, nearly a moan, eyes shifting back to your profile. You were staring at Jungkook and Jungkook was staring at him.

“Five demons this body has withstood.”

The thought made him hard.

“What’s two more?” Yoongi chuckled deep in his chest, placing his hand on your heaving chest, right above the soul shards.

No.

It hovered, the faintest sliver of space between his hand and your breasts. The more he pushed, the more it pushed back, gleaming sparks scalding his palm. Yoongi gritted his teeth, seeing the black tendrils laced with ice-silver snake around his fingers. The scent of burning flesh stained the air. Not holy magic. Something else. Something far less controlled. The Devil could feel pain, but it was nothing more than fuel for his emotions, a means to an end.

You lowered more of your weight onto the leash, moaning as the leather dug in deeper, the scent of sex stronger, rocking your hips back and forth. Yoongi suddenly felt the pain lessen, the black tendrils retreating, ice-silver fading into nothing. His eyebrows raised, fascinated. The introduction of passion and your human body reacting to it. The disembodied black arms around them scabbed around, nonsensical red eyes veering in all directions, crawling across the sheets, desperate to touch and soil the human.

His palm was getting closer.

Closer.

Closer to your chest.

Yoongi’s hand touched your shuddering breast.

Instantly the shadowy, eyeball-covered hands were on your body, clawing at your clothes, caressing your skin, up your back and to your head, pulling you by the hair and making you moan, Jungkook completely letting go of the leash and placing his hands on your breasts, one over Yoongi’s, curling the Devil’s fingers under the lace cup, pulling hard.

Yoongi made no move to stop him.

Jungkook ripped your bra apart, sucking in a tight breath as your breasts bounced free, diving down to latch his lips onto them, his hot mouth to your cool skin, moaning at the taste of human mixed with demon, the five shards on your chest glimmering, his five hyungs infused into this body with the exception of the Devil himself.

“Fuuuuuuuck…”

He shoved his hands under the ribbons of your dress and yanked your body up to his greedy mouth, biting and lapping at your skin, flickering his tongue over your nipples, your hands finding his shoulders, wanton whimpers quivering from your chest to Jungkook’s mouth. He drank it all up, the sweet taste of flesh, the heavy scent of sex, the sound of tainted lust, whining as his shirt was torn to bits by exploring shadowy hands. The Devil’s work. Jungkook looked up to see Yoongi on the other side of you, one of his pale hands in your hair and the other pushing your chin back, his head descending.

“A kiss from Hell, just for you,” Yoongi murmured.

The Devil’s lips on yours.

You audibly moaned right into Yoongi’s mouth as he tilted his head, fitting his lips to your dark mauve ones, soft but rough, tongue sliding in, fucking you with it, slow and maddening, the aphrodisiac of his kiss turning even the most prudish of humans into a sobbing mess, begging and pleading for more.

But, as he suspected, you were no ordinary human.

Your tongue wound around his, pressing your lips harder to his despite his hold on your hair, exhaling in his mouth, intoxicating all on its own, pushing your chest into Jungkook’s face, your arms held back by Hell’s shadows, your muscles tense and shivering.

Yoongi felt it, the hot spark of near pain.

You could break out at any time.

Yoongi broke the kiss, breathing hard, his eyes finding yours. Like small mirrors, they reflected himself back. And yet. There was definitely something underneath that standing water. Poison? Or something else?

Jungkook grabbed your chin and kissed you hard, moaning at your taste and the Devil’s lingering saliva.

“Yes, fuck, yes…”

Your dress ripped apart, the demon hands doing the Devil’s work, leaving red scratches on your skin, Jungkook doing the rest, rough fingers shoving the fabric scraps out of the way, bits of your bra thrown aside, shreds of black adding to the shadows already surrounding the bed. All eyes on you and your exposed body in Jungkook’s arms, his hard bare chest pressing into yours, skin to hot skin, lifting you like a doll, one hand winding around the leash.

Kissing you like he owned you, already his possession by the way you gasped into his mouth, breathless as he took your sweet exhale with his fiery inhale, his fingernails scraping down your back.

“Stop playing around,” the Devil commanded harshly.

Jungkook started, breaking the kiss as the shadowy arms encircled him and you, locking your bodies in a tight embrace. The red eyes in the shadows flickered, blinking, morphing, changing.

Into mouths.

Into tongues.

“H-Hyung…!”

Yoongi smirked behind your head, eyebrow cocked as Jungkook shuddered and moaned, red forked tongues from ghostly arms flickering across his skin, grasping you so tightly that you whined against his chest, the tongues on you too, drenching you in swipes of Hell’s saliva.

As if the Devil himself was licking you, but all over.

“Hyung, w-wait…” Jungkook managed to get out, hands on your shoulders.

Like two star crossed lovers, except one was a demon and one barely had any humanity left.

Yoongi cracked his neck, grinning widely, all malice and no mirth.

Devilishly, even.

“Can’t wait any longer. I just have to know.”

The Devil’s hands swooped down, twisting between your body and Jungkook’s, undoing the button and the zipper of Jungkook’s slacks impossibly fast, the shadows aiding him, pulling them down, ripping apart the underwear, Jungkook gasping as Yoongi’s long fingers closed around his hard, leaking cock.

“Ah, don’t–”

But it was too late, the Devil’s hand wrapped around him, pleasure sprinting through his veins and swarming every nerve, Yoongi’s other hand pushing your wet heat closer, closer, dark chuckles and fiendish words invading his senses, the Devil himself pulling all his strings.

“Ah, I know all the things you like, Jungkookie…” Yoongi drawled, placing the head against your slit, coating it with your slick but not letting Jungkook enter you, making the younger demon growl with want. “I know you love playing with the humans for hours…” Leaning in, putting his face above your left shoulder, hovering with a sinister smirk. “And I know you secretly love it when you’re being forced to do something.”

The Devil’s pink tongue snaking out, licking Jungkook’s cheek, making him moan in your face and lean his forehead against yours, the lust overwhelming, unable to move due to the shadowy mouth-covered arms and the Devil’s power. Your body trembled in his embrace, your whimpers against Jungkook’s lips and Yoongi’s cruel, raspy laughter ringing in his ears as Jungkook’s cock swelled in his hand.

“You just love it when it’s me ordering you around, don’t you, Jungkook?”

Jungkook was staring in your eyes, seeing his own desperation and shameful happiness reflected back at him, admitting the truth because there was nothing he could hide from the Devil.

“Y… Yes, hyung,” he breathed into your mouth.

Yoongi let go of his cock the same time he pushed your dripping core onto Jungkook, sinking you all the way down, two simultaneous moaning screams intertwining and filling up the entire room infested with Hell’s domain.

-

Inside.

You felt it, a tiny pulse.

You looked around in the abyss, not expecting to see anything.

How long had you been here? Ah, did it matter? Nothing mattered. In this world, there was only emptiness. You saw nothing, heard nothing, remembered nothing, cared about nothing. If there was no sadness, there was no happiness. If there was no existence, there was nothing to worry about, cry about, feel pain about. Nothing to live for. Nothing at all.

And yet.

You had sensed something.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You looked up.

Four black horns adorning a head of black hair and fair skin, lips peeled back, eyes glittering.

Menace. Amusement. Glee. Lust. Fascination.

Passion.

Who was that?

You squinted.

You… had eyes.

And suddenly it all rushed to the surface, jammed into sensory overload, tongues on your skin, heat overwhelming, a sweaty cheek pressed against yours, your chest prickling with sensitivity, pain from a tight embrace, and you gasped a lungful of air as you felt the demon’s cock enter your tight, wet hole, saturated with arousal, eye to eye with blazing dark brown orbs surrounded by wet black curls, your pussy stretched too far too fast, but adrenaline adapting the pain into even more pleasure.

Felt.

You could feel everything.

“J-Jungkook…”

Words.

You could hear the demon’s lips curve into a wicked grin.

“I love it when you’re whimpering my name, pet,” he drawled.

There was nothing to wonder about. No desire to know your past or if you had a future, no desire to know why you were here, what was going on, not even the need to know how you were aware of the demon before you and his name, Jeon Jungkook.

There was only one goal.

Chasing all aspects of pleasure and passion.

The shadows around your two retreated slowly, forked red tongues sliding back into shadowy pits surrounded by crevices slashed on black disembodied arms, but none of that mattered as you leaned in to Jungkook’s face, hands rising to grip his shoulders, cracking pleas in your throat at the sensation of being too full and sensory overload dominated by lust.

“F-Fuck me, please…” you panted, adjusting to straddle his lap better, his raw cock twitching against your throbbing walls. “Please, Jungkook…”

His hands were on your shoulders, his head lifting and eyebrow cocking, arrogant expression on his face.

“Of course, my little human.”

He lowered his hips, nearly pulling out, leaving you in a whine, almost empty before roughly shoving himself back in, filling you all the way to maximum ecstasy igniting all of your nerves, your nails digging into his skin and a choked moan as you took it all, straining against the brink of almost too much but not quite.

Utter perfection.

How did he know?

He didn’t.

Jungkook was a demon. And demons intuitively delivered the exact amount, instinctually sensing how the human body desired more, every brutal stroke a delicate balance of pain and pleasure, every rock of his hips matching yours, you involuntarily bouncing on his cock with his hard thighs in between your soft ones, cries bubbling from your throat. Every rush of stimulation potent, Jungkook panting intoxicatingly in your face and you drinking it up like a starved hyena, your hands clawing up, tangling in his hair, gripping the curved black horns on the sides of his beautiful head, staring into his enchanting eyes.

The demon smiled at you, almost lovingly, as he fucked you raw from below.

“That’s it…”

Rising from Jungkook’s left shoulder, four horns and glittering dark eyes.

A devious, open-mouthed smirk.

Your grip on Jungkook’s horns tightened, staring into this new, yet familiar gaze. A smokey whisper, rasp infesting your eardrums, reaching in to the humanity inside you. Your ice-silver irises reflected in the endless darkness of those ravenous orbs.

“Fuck him harder,” the Devil coaxed.

Sin.

“Yes,” you breathed.

Body automatically reacting, crashing your mouth into Jungkook’s, wild kiss punctuated by your hips smacking down hard onto his crotch, walls clenching around his stiff length, his moan and words filling your lungs.

“H-Hyung, fuck!”

You threw your weight onto him, slapping your hips together violently, repeatedly, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, pressing his body into the Devil, Jungkook’s nails digging into your shoulders and his cock swelling inside you. Pale hands coming up to grip Jungkook’s broad, tan shoulders, pink tongue sliding out and stroking the demon’s ear wetly, scorching breath on your fingers.

“Take it,” was the animalistic growl from those perfect pink lips, the low octave on an otherworldly level. “Cum in that pretty little pussy. Warm it up for me, Jungkookie.”

So hard, turning you so wet, greedy kisses and bites not enough, more, more, Jungkook groaning and powerfully thrusting up as you squelched down, splattering your juices all over his balls, pussy throbbing with the intensity of pleasure, staring into beautiful eyes and the hauntingly handsome angles of Jungkook’s face soaked with sweat on glistening tan skin, one of his hands grabbing your head and kissing you back with just as much fervor, filling you again and again, your name dancing on his lips.

“Yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me, you humans are so fucking good at serving us…”

“J-Jungkook, ah, f-fuck… I–”

“Give it to me, give it to me, delicious little pet,” he growled in your throat, harder, faster, rougher, racing to the edge and flying off.

A millisecond of euphoria.

You gasped out his name, saturated in mindless ecstasy.

“Jungkook.”

The Chaos swallowed you up, leaving you in nothingness once more.

-

Yoongi noticed it immediately.

He could feel it course through him, your orgasm explosive and mixing with Jungkook’s crescendo, invading the Devil’s senses and igniting throughout his body, feeding off of every throb of your pussy as Jungkook moaned and pumped you full of his hot cum, packing you with demon seed that your human body could do absolutely nothing with, soaking it into your abused walls, painting your sweetness with his heat.

Demons purely had sex with humans for the sake of pleasure. Nothing could come of it other than the obscenity in enjoying primal passion.

Fucking delightful.

Palpable and intense, Yoongi’s tongue slid out and tasted the air, his hands moving up and caressing Jungkook’s horns, making the younger demon shudder and squirm with pleasure, rutting into you more, squishing his thick cum around inside you, your eyelids fluttering and shivering gasps grasping your lungs.

But your eyes.

While you were fucking Jungkook, your eyes had turned that icy silver.

Now your irises were that reflective mirror.

The Devil felt it.

A pulse.

Jungkook’s naked body trembling against his, tantalizing moan implanted with lust incarnate, lost in the throes of passion, unable to get out until his orgasm was over. His voice sounded thin as if there was pressure in his ribcage.

Yoongi looked down at Jungkook’s heaving chest.

It was glowing.

He couldn’t stop it.

Spider-silk thin strands of ice-silver plunging inwards, needles of power forcing its way inside Jungkook’s chest cavity, all the way in. Yoongi was so close that he himself could feel it, the power of his domain letting him feel everything that happened within, from your passion to Jungkook’s desire, and now he could feel the needles pouring in, chipping away at the vibrant demon soul of Jeon Jungkook.

Collecting.

Jungkook whimpered, head falling against Yoongi’s shoulder, turning his head to kiss the Devil’s cheek.

“H… Hyung…”

The slim, black-red diamond extracted from Jungkook’s chest in glimmering lines of ice-silver, suspending it in the air, so spellbinding that even Yoongi could do nothing but watch in awe, the strings winding around the shard of demon soul and affixing it to your chest, the spot to the bottom left below the center. Six now, the filled semicircle underneath your pentagram tattoo, center empty.

The shadowy arms, covered with red eyeballs and tongues, rose.

Your eyes reopened, cracks of ice silver in those vacant irises.

Now, the Devil, Min Yoongi, understood.

What were demons cursed with?

Emotion and free will.

The Vessel was using the soul shards to stabilize the Disorder. The human body was too weak alone and those high above had nothing to give, for they gave away all they had to serve his father. That’s why you needed demon soul. Not just any demon soul, but the six most powerful ones, driven to finalize your collection with the most powerful of them all to contain what was within.

The Entropy.

The Chaos.

A slow, greedy grin graced his lips.

How interesting.

-

A tiny blip.

You had one piece of knowledge. Six.

In the nothingness, the only knowledge you possessed was the number six.

Six.

Six.

Six.

The resurfacing.

You gasped for air, lungs expanding forcefully, chest burning and heart racing, sensory overload, knowing only what you needed to know, the demon Jeon Jungkook in front of you once again, except this time he was leaning against the headboard, breathing hard, his tan shoulders crisscrossed in red from your nails, his two curved black horns luminous, arrogant smirk on his face.

You were on your hands and knees.

No.

Your arms were being held up by dark shadows of disembodied hands, eyes and tongues surrounding you, shoulders bowing a little from the strain, but not enough to be unbearable.

Jungkook licked his lips, slow, glossing them with wetness.

“Pretty pet,” he purred, gripping the leash and tugging on it, your breath dying in your throat, circulation cut off by the leather cutting into the sides of your neck. “Don’t waste any of it now, or you’ll anger him.”

Dancing fingers sliding up your hips, the space in between your legs achingly sore and full, but demanding more punishment, unable to look back to see, but already knowing who it was. You whimpered in your throat, shuddering at the light touch.

Jungkook quirked his eyebrows. “You’re right, little pet.” He yanked your body to his lap, jerking you forward unforgivingly, forcing you to stumble, the hands on your hips holding you up, your arms jostling in the grip of the shadows, their forked tongues swiping across your skin.

“That mouth needs something to fill it too, doesn’t it?” Jungkook drawled dangerously.

Your eyes widened, the scent of sex attacking your nose.

“Down,” he snarled.

You gasped, the grip on your neck lessening, Jungkook’s large hand fitting behind your head and forcing you to lower, your open mouth suddenly filled with his already rock-hard, cum-covered cock, yours and his, sex painting your tongue, swallowing his huge length in one gulp, tip engorging in the back of your throat, filling it to the brim of near-choking, but not quite.

Leaving you on the edge.

The edge of too much and not enough.

Perfection.

“I love to fuck,” Jungkook sighed above you, audibly savoring the feeling of your tight mouth around his length, your shaking eyes looking up at him. “And I’m the second best at it.”

He was.

You didn’t have to wonder. You just knew.

He leaned down, his thumb caressing your forehead. “Guess who is the best, pet?”

You yelped around his cock as forked tongues brushed against your flesh, shadows squeezing and kneading your beasts, latching onto your already hard nipples and stimulating them, pinching and tugging at the sensitive nubs. Jungkook’s naughty smirk was right in front of your face, his hardness twitching and pulsing in your mouth, those hands on your hips tightening, the velvety hard head of another cock skimming your cum-soaked folds, slicking with your juices.

Jungkook’s long fingers curled in your hair, gripping your scalp.

His voice a silvery, perilously low octave.

“The Devil.”

The familiar, raspy chuckle drenched in deviance.

“That’s right.”

Jungkook pulled out and roughly thrust in your face the same time the Devil slammed his cock into you, your eyes flying wide, Jungkook’s previous orgasm stuffed back into you by a different cock, slippery lewd squishes of too much thick liquid expanding your walls. Your pussy and mouth both clamped down on the two cocks, Jungkook’s swollen head ramming into the back of your throat, the Devil…

Holy shit, the Devil.

Whereas Jungkook’s cock responded to your body’s needs and kept it at the teetering maximum of lustful pleasure, the Devil had you suspended on his puppet strings, slow pace agonizingly teasing an orgasm out of you, fast pace tearing another out, rough pace amplifying yet another out, every one feeling like an eternity and leaving you craving more, the true meaning of insatiability, moans vibrating Jungkook’s throbbing length as your pussy convulsed from back-to-back orgasms. The surrounding shadows with bloodshot red eyes were watching you as forked tongues and shadowy hands caressed your trembling body all over, two mouths specifically latched on your nipples and one on your clit, rippling against the sensitive bundle of nerves, soaking it with saliva and sucking on it, all while Jungkook fucked your face relentlessly and the Devil drilled you from behind, grunts, groans, moans, mixed together, stifled by cock and accented by wicked slaps of flesh on flesh, all for the pure intent of only obtaining carnal pleasure and nothing else.

Unconstrained ecstasy, pure sin.

And you, suspended between torture and pain of overwhelmed senses.

“So fucking good…” Jungkook panted, black hair sweaty and sticking to his clenched jaw, dark brown eyes glinting with madness, thrusting wildly into your puffy mauve lips while harshly clutching your head, the shadows holding your body and taking the force of his movements off your neck so he could enjoy the delights of abusing your mouth without causing you pain, therefore allowing you to serve him as he pleased, keeping your throat tight for every punishing slide of his thick cock down the wet hole.

“You take me so well, little pet, almost like a demon, but human mouths are always better, so compliant and subservient. Demons are selfish, only looking out for their own pleasure, but your kind… Your kind is always begging to serve and be used.”

Jungkook caught his lower lip between his teeth, the mole underneath bouncing your vision with every plunge of his cock between your lips, large curved horns on the side of his head surrounded by long black curls, deliciously muscular torso right above you, tattoos on his right arm and shoulder flexing with his movements, the epitome of sex.

The entire time, the Devil’s cock was forcing you to new levels of pleasure you didn’t even know existed, blazing hot and intense, the ever-changing pace almost frustrating, but, somehow, he always knew what to do, speed up or slow down, harder or softer, the Devil’s trill sonata a complex and intricate mess being played, your pussy acting as the violin, coating his cock with Jungkook’s cum and yours, so much that it was spilling out and splashing onto your thighs, dripping down in sloppy squirts.

“You going to cum down that pretty throat?” the Devil drawled, his words resonating in his domain. “I want to watch you fill it up with your delicious cum so you can show me, Jungkookie.”

The young demon shuddered, intoxicated and driven by the command, his breathing swallowing, desires brimming to the surface, your name bubbling off his lips and your throat painfully sore but, oh, so good, so satisfying to be used like a toy, leather leash and collar on your neck jangling, inflamed clit pulsating as you came again with a feral moan around Jungkook’s stiff cock, pushing him over the edge with your suppressed cry, spilling into your throat with thick salty strings of his orgasm, shooting streaks all over the insides of your mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” he gritted out, jerking the last few spurts onto your tongue before removing his cock, smearing residual cum on your swollen lips. “Fuck, yes.”

He snarled and grabbed your chin, other hand on your chest to push you up, up, forcing you to arch your spine to an almost ridiculously painful level, the Devil’s pleased expression halfway in your vision.

“Open,” Jungkook growled.

You opened your cum-smeared lips, showing the Devil the thick white coating the insides of your pink tongue and abused throat, barely able to breathe, almost choking on Jungkook’s orgasm.

The Devil grinned.

“Swallow.”

You did in noisy, desperate gulps, sucking in sweet air, only for the circulation in your neck to be cut off as Jungkook hooked a finger on the collar ring and yanked it forward, his other hand and the shadows preventing your body or head from moving as he did so.

You could feel it, the Devil’s cock jolting, hitting you so deep and so satisfyingly that your eyes rolled back, vision spotting with black, completely and utterly consumed by the bodily pleasure of being forced to take exactly what you asked for.

Your name, so soft and sharp, driving deep into your pounding, rapid heartbeat, soaking your body with unholy touch, craving to be broken.

“Take it.”

The faintest of gasps, nerves a flaring wildfire as the Devil thrust his orgasm into you, euphoric in simply being pumped with his seed, the hold on your neck suddenly gone, air smashing into your lungs and the rush of oxygen making your lightheaded and dizzy, your body flinching as it attempted to drink it all up, shocks tearing through your system, forked tongues lapping up what was slipping out and another thicker, wetter tongue.

Jungkook on his belly, needy wanton moans in his chest, sucking the mixture of cum – you, himself, and the Devil pouring from between your joined crotches.

-

The ice-silver tendrils creeped from your chest, but shadowed hands forced them back.

Pain.

Yoongi could feel it in midst of the intense orgasm, the pain of his power being disintegrated, but he was no ordinary demon, he was the Devil, and no power, not even the Disorder, was going to take a shard of his soul without a fight.

No.

He pushed back against it, forcing his will upon the power unknown.

You will get your payment.

The pain subsided a little, layering with the shivering tremors of your pussy barely able to hold all that cum. Yoongi clenched his jaw, feeding on it all. He pulled out of you, his cock smacking Jungkook in the face, smearing the demon’s lips and cheeks with his still hard length, feeling the desperate tongue lap at him eagerly before he pulled away, hearing the explicit squelch as Jungkook’s mouth latched onto your pussy, devouring the cum from three beings trapped inside you.

Not until I’ve had a decent meal.

Your irises remained infested with ice-silver.

The Chaos, merely at bay, waiting for him.

-

Jungkook shoved his tongue into your sensitive hole, licking and suckling on your engorged clit as well as eating the delicious nectar, lustfully groaning at the taste of the Devil, you, and him, so flawless, a meal incomparable, his blood singing with joy.

No drop was to go to waste.

He would grovel at the Devil’s feet to have this taste forever.

-

Yoongi grabbed you by the hair and pushed you down, kneeling over Jungkook’s hips, letting the younger demon do whatever he wanted down there. He had more pressing matters.

He lowered himself, lifting Jungkook’s still-stiff cock, and dropped his dripping cock and balls on top the other, hissing in satisfaction as his hard length rubbed against Jungkook’s. Underneath you he heard a throaty, gleeful moan, your body shuddering as the sound went through you.

“Hand,” Yoongi commanded.

He grabbed your hand that his servants freed, wrapping it around the two cocks with his own long fingers, rocking his hips back and forth, too much fluid and too much slick making everything slippery, flickering tongues from the shadows adding to the mix, licking at the purple-red heads, adding saliva to the mix.

Your eyes were glued to this downright obscene display of indecent passion, mauve lips wetly parted, gasping with tremors of orgasm, two hands around two cocks and surrounded by shadows with tongues and eyes, Jungkook’s uncontrolled moaning stifled by your lush hips sitting on his beautiful face, his hips still humping your joined hands and smacking his balls into Yoongi’s, begging the Devil to let him cum and for Yoongi to cum all over his stomach as you came on his face.

The Devil chuckled.

He and you pumped together with Jungkook’s thrusting, his eyes roaming all over, drinking in the sight of his favorite demon and his new shiny toy.

No, not a toy.

His possession.

He lifted his free hand, cupping your chin forcefully, staring into your eyes.

Ice-silver, reflective glass, the original human shattered, so thoroughly intertwined and blended together with powers unknown that it was hard to tell what was what, impossible to know if they even could be separated, and Yoongi, the Devil himself, having no personal reason to bring you back from whatever you were now.

The greater good?

Heh.

The Devil cared not for such things.

“Cum for me,” he breathed hotly to your lips.

You blinked hard, gaze unfocused, the edge already in your sights, headed straight for it at an impossible speed. He watched as you tipped into free-fall, eyes rolling back, whining and moaning hoarsely as you came for the umpteenth time, soaking Jungkook’s face with your orgasm, the younger demon yelping and his cock jerking, spurting cum over his stomach with Yoongi’s mixing at the same time, the Devil sharply hissing as his cock violently shivered and pressed against your palm, shooting thick strings of white all over those sculpted abs.

Yoongi clenched his jaw, the ice-silver needles sprouting from your chest once more.

“Your… name…” you whispered, whole body trembling.

Yoongi exhaled hard, locking his glare with your fucked-out expression. The power pierced him, a bizarre feeling of euphoria and excruciating prickling, pressure unbearable, the threads of the Chaos stumbling through the massive collection of souls within him. Skittering, frantically searching.

Pain.

But not from him.

From you.

Your shaking hand rose, your voice thinning out, anguish coating your features.

It was killing you the longer he hesitated in giving you a name.

The Devil could give you any name of the souls within him. The lesser ones, the insignificant ones, the pathetic ones. The contract did not specify. That was his loophole. The ice-silver threads were tearing you up from the inside, pouring more and more into him with every second that he waited. Your fingers brushed against his cheek.

“H…”

Something shimmering in those eyes.

“He… help… me…”

The power within the Vessel a vehement storm, sadistically demanding the contract to be sealed. You were going to die if he withheld a name from you. The Devil reached up and touched your hand, holding it against his cheek.

He smiled softly.

Yoongi would not let his precious new possession die so quickly.

“Hold on,” he rasped.

The Devil pushed back.

He forced it out, taking the pain and using it to fuel his power, pushing it back, back into you, your airless shrieks trapped in your chest as the six black-red soul-shards gleamed, radiating heat.

Helping him.

Even now his six closest confidants were helping him, their small bits of demon soul rushing to his aid, collapsing onto the power of the Disorder, forcing it back, buying him more time.

Yoongi chuckled.

Guess they really were his friends.

-

Whatever pain you felt became a distant memory the second the Devil lifted your hips from Jungkook’s face, arms wrapping around your body, his knees sliding up a little to hover your two bodies right above the cum puddle on Jungkook’s stomach. The demon beneath you panted, fucked-out, still shuddering with aftershocks of orgasm.

You held his face, looking deep into dark brown eyes full of the knowledge of every sin known to mankind. His lips curved into a sly, open-mouthed smirk.

“You’ve been so good,” he drawled. “Such a resilient little thing.”

Everything was sore, throbbing, muscles burning with exertion, and yet you still wanted more, caressing the cheeks of the Devil with your fingers, leaning against his body for support.

“After this, I think we should be a little closer, don’t you?”

Your body was lowering, abused pussy meeting his hard cock once more.

The Devil wasn’t done until he was done.

And those shadows of arms ending with claw-like fingers, covered in eyeballs and mouths? Always willing to lend a hand, encircling around your bodies, holding up your weak human body so the Devil could fuck you.

“Let’s be together for all eternity, you and I.”

You whimpered as you sank down again, so wet and slick that he slipped in easily, hardness swelling against your trembling walls.

“A contract?” you croaked, barely able to speak at this point.

“No, my pet,” the Devil lured, drawing you into him as he rocked his hips, lowering the two of you on the mess of cum on Jungkook’s abdomen, smearing your thighs in it, sticky and strong-smelling, Jungkook losing it under you, scooping up the demon seed to coat his fingers and palms. “Not a contract. Just a promise. Dedication.”

Now Jungkook’s hands were covered in the Devil’s cum and his own.

He began to spank your ass with every rough thrust of the Devil’s cock burying in your velvety folds, adding stings of pain to the devastating pleasure.

“You have dedication, don’t you?”

Dedication?

Slap! Thrust. Slap! Thrust. Slap!

The Devil leaned forward, raspy laugh deep in his chest.

A trickster’s kiss capturing your swollen lips.

“Faith, if you will.”

Your body instinctively bucking back into the Devil’s cock, Jungkook hitting you repeatedly, cum caked to your ass and thighs, pussy spasming and drenching the impossibly hard and thick cock inside you, taking it all with fierce enthusiasm, now throatily moaning to the bruising pace, ensnared in his words. Fucking you, punishing you, freeing you, violent hard thrusts, smacks on hips on hips and hands on hips, flesh singing with feral pleasure, Jungkook’s nails tearing at your skin and leaving red scratches with his stinging, cum-stained palm prints.

The Devil’s hand closed around the collar around your neck and you felt the leather melting away, disappearing, joining the mass of shadows around you. The black spidery arms flared out, circling around the Devil’s head like black fire, surrounding his four hours as his fingers gripped your neck, his left hand splayed on your back as he choked you.

The shadows opened.

Red eyes with black slitted pupils, watching everything.

Slashed mouths with black lips and forked red tongues, grinning.

They closed in, wrapping around your joined bodies, long predatory fingers tangling in your hair, hands clutching on your breasts, pointed nails clawing at your thighs and leaving red scratches, the Devil’s hot breath in your face as he smirked, wide and open-mouthed, canine teeth glinting ominously, driving his punishing girth into you as Hell’s shadows pushed you back down, Jungkook’s nails digging into your ass and his lustful, throaty moans ringing in your ears as he relished in the feeling of the Devil fucking you on top of him.

Your head clouding, circulation thinning as the pleasure thickened, rising to an impossible crescendo on a scale no longer known to man, consumed by lust and shadows, covered in cum, vision blurring, sound intensifying as one of your senses faded.

All Hell breaking loose.

“Do you have faith in the Devil, human?”

You scarcely managed to croak out an answer.

“Yes.”

A millisecond of euphoria.

A growl so deep it seemed to reign and command all souls within his presence.

“I am the Devil, and my name is Min Yoongi.”

-

Yoongi let it happen.

He set his jaw and shot into you, once more cramming you full of his cum, the pleasure of your orgasm amplifying his own, savoring the addictive high as the ice-silver filaments crowned from that center point on your chest, eagerly darting forward and plunging into his.

For a moment, he felt nothing.

He looked into your eyes.

You reflected ecstasy.

Then he felt an overwhelming pressure, sedation, and a crushing weight mixed with high-voltage passion, shattering through him, the unknown power pinpointing exactly what it needed and knocking on the door of the current soul embodying the Devil.

He was already waiting patiently.

The tendrils of ice-silver became your hands, cupping together, begging.

“Here.”

He ripped it himself, breaking off the thin diamond-like shard of black-red, a piece of his soul that he handed to the waiting hands, knowing he was forever bound to you, forever drawn to you, the Vessel, the Entropy, the Chaos.

His now.

“And this.”

He pressed a little something into it.

“It’s yours.”

The ice-silver snatched his soul-shard and vanished.

-

The darkness closed in, leaving you trapped in nothingness once more. The Chaos received what it needed. There was no need for your consciousness any longer, for the Vessel was complete. The nothingness just was and you were in it.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Then.

A pulse.

-

You opened your eyes.

Everything hurt.

Everything was sticky, covered in cum.

Everything was scattered everywhere, bedsheets and clothes shredded, shadowy arms swaying this way and that, no longer covered in strange eyeballs and mouths, simply all-black and waiting for command.

Why?

You felt something soft tucked into your arms.

Your eyes lowered, seeing the black goat-man plush cradled in the crook of your less cum-coated arm. A pale hand took yours and placed your fingers on the leather hoof. You stroked it, almost innocently.

“Would you like to come with me?” said the deep, raspy voice.

Your eyes flickered to your chest. Six black-red demon soul-shards surrounding a bigger, more lustrous, and sinister-looking one. It sparkled red and purple. Something was trapped inside it, glowing violet from within. It seemed to pulse, slowly, following a unique rhythm.

You looked up.

Into Min Yoongi’s dark, dark eyes.

You felt a strong grip on your shoulders from behind, matched by a teasing chuckle as a playful chin resting against your shoulder. Your eyes flickered to your right, seeing the hand tattoos on that hand, feeling the hardness of the body of Jeon Jungkook behind you. He held you to him, tracing the curve of your neck.

Yoongi held his hand out, smirk on his lips.

You took it, affirming your desire to follow, even if it meant going to the depths of Hell itself.

“What did you do?” you breathed.

The Devil shrugged.

The domain around you was collapsing, but not melting away. Instead, it seemed to cave inward, bowing from strain, surrounding you, Yoongi, and Jungkook, swallowing the three bodies and the goat-man plush in your arms. Yoongi drew close to you, lips on your lips, half-lidded eyes smoked with arousal.

“I gave you a small shred of my heart, pet.”

The fist-sized muscle pounded in your chest as the surface disappeared and the Devil dragged you down to Hell with his right-hand demon.

“Now you have emotion and free will.”

Yoongi pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply as the world around you turned into everlasting flames.

-

666 You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.

--

masterpost

[venalier]

[ 💀 ] has your muse gone through anything traumatic? if so, how has this trauma affected them? [ :) ]

         ♡   //    HEADCANON PROMPTS.  /  @windsheedme

hello l&k / unlocked my old friend,,,,,,,

well there’s always the obvious answer of ‘ she’s a fe character, duh ’, but i’ll take this to talk about the prominent trauma of the fateskids, which is ofc the fact that they were all thrown into deeprealms shortly after birth — and, due to the flow of time moving faster there, all essentially barely knew their parents growing up despite ( insofar as the game tells us ) the parents’ best efforts to visit them whenever they could.

kind of a low-hanging fruit topic, but i think i’ve always been interested in it for caeldori specifically because she’s one of the very few fateskids who doesn’t seem to hold it against her father for it even a little bit. most of the other kids display some variation of bitterness, resentment, or act out in some way whether overtly or more subtly in response to feelings of abandonment, and navigating this usually makes up some aspect of their supports or reconciliation later on.

but caeldori shows, uh, none of that in canon.

but i don’t think she’s completely unaffected. i’ve dropped oblique hints throughout my characterization before to the presence of that same underlying sense of abandonment, but i think where caeldori is concerned, there are a number of factors that keep it from bubbling to the surface as it does in a lot of the other kids.

1. as far as the fateskids are concerned, she and her father have a stellar relationship ( its also admittedly one of my favorite parts about writing her HAHA ). i headcanon that tsubaki was particularly intent on having as much presence in caeldori’s life as possible, given his personality, the nature of her family’s expectations, and what i hc as his traumas with his own father growing up. i think caeldori, mature ( in this way ) by nature and upbringing, understood that he was doing everything he could, an understanding and gratitude that deepened after she left the deeprealm and learned about the other kids’ situations more.

2. caeldori’s genuine hero worship of her father also suppresses the feelings of abandonment somewhat, and her understanding and acceptance of hoshidan values and amayari family values as they were instilled in her. the guardian she had in her deeprealm likely worked closely with her family and/or the royal family; adding in her father’s teachings when he was around ( which i do hc he was particularly present during her earliest years, when a child does most of their developmental learning ), and caeldori genuinely doesn’t hold it against tsubaki for putting the war and the safety of the kingdom and its royal line above her. where other kids might resent their parents for that, she sees it as worthy of commendation, how it ought to be. if he had neglected his duty and their family’s pride in order to tend to her all the time, that would actually be the more shameful choice in her mind. so in return, as a filial daughter, she has no right to feelings of neglect, and should only be proud of him.

3. a combination of growing up with full knowledge of her identity and station, and her own personality that naturally prioritizes responsibility, made it easy for her to equate her worth as tsubaki’s daughter less with emotional closeness and more with whether he is proud of her and her accomplishments, whether she can earn his approval and satisfaction. she falls into a comfortable loop then where she trains hard while he’s gone, and each time he comes back after months or years have lapsed for her, she has made leaps and bounds forward, and can bask in her father’s uninhibited praise. ( this is of course before she realizes that he praises her no matter what, and forms the basis of why that realization is so upsetting to her in canon, rather than comforting. )

as for how this all affects her, i think it’s pretty much written on the wall, but generally speaking, it all culminates in a combination of the points listed above

someone who simultaneously loves her father as a father, but perhaps as a proud role model above even that, someone who pursues perfection, self-improvement, and excellence because it fulfills so much of what it means to her to be meaningful, and someone who wholeheartedly values the ideal of the country and the family before the self or the individual, whether or not she is genuinely capable of exercising that value — because the alternative is that she is a lonely and ungrateful daughter who selfishly longs for consolation and company, which would disgrace not only herself and her own achievements, but also all of her father’s efforts and struggles as well.

[raindrops-and-tubestops]

Angst: 2

Linumi:)

I see you like this pairing Nonie! That’s fine, it’s kind of fun to write something different! Enjoy! 💜

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The air was still, for once the sounds of her city were absent, it seemed she was the only one who couldn’t sleep. Sealed in her own bubble, the metalbender wa slots in thought. The glow from the spirit portal casting an eery glow across the tops of the buildings. From her apartment she could see the waves rolling gently in the bay, the salt and chill from the water sweeping through the city.

A painful sigh escaped her lips. This wasn’t how she had pictured her night. She flexed her feet slightly, readjusting them where they were propped on the railing of her balcony. The pull from her muscles reminding her of just how long she had been in the position. The tumbler in her other hand, now devoid of ice, confirmed the length of time. She set it on the arm of her chair.

She sighed again, her hand that was unoccupied sweeping across her forehead, trying to massage the tension away. She was supposed to be enjoying a quiet night in…a simple dinner followed by a nightcap, one last chance at spending quality time with him before he left.

In the morning he’d be traveling with his brother, visiting the other air temples, making the rounds and noting what needed to be done. It had been a hectic yeah and Tenzin was eager to make sure that nothing had come to pass at the other sites in his absence. Bumi, of course, had volunteered to go with his little brother…in fact she was certain they were picking Kya up on the way back.

He was going to be gone for at least a month. Communication wouldn’t be difficult, but only being able to send letters ahead to certain temples in hopes that he would receive them wasn’t the same as hearing his voice. Seeing his smile when she rolled over in bed every morning. Tonight had been her last chance.

Lin bit her lip, punishing the delicate skin, almost to the point of drawing blood. She could feel the tears beginning to pool behind her eyes; she would not cry.

~

The morning had been like any other, except that she wasn’t needed at work and would be spending the day lazing around her apartment. She rose before Bumi, starting breakfast and their coffee, knowing that after he would head to the island to be pack. The plan was for him to return later that evening and for them to relax; packing ahead of time ensured they would have additional time together.

Lin was standing at the sink, humming to the radio and washing the dishes, when she felt his presence behind her. She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder to see Bumi leant against her counter, a look of contemplation on his face. He seemed to be looking through her, his eyes unseeing.

She turned off the faucet with a flick of her wrist and moved so that she was facing him, drying her hands with a dish towel.

She eyed him warily, ‘What’s the matter?’

He hummed noncommittally, shrugging his shoulders. Lin could tell he was trying to act nonchalant, but there was clearly something on his mind. She knew him well enough to know that much.

Green eyes locked with grey, seeing the apprehension clearly on display.

‘I’m going to ask you something,’ he started hesitantly, ‘ and I would like you to let me finish before you answer or interrupt.’

Lin was on instant alert…those words, in that combination, had never boded well for her. She nodded anyway, regardless of the reluctant feeling in her stomach.

Bumi inhaled slowly, ‘I want to tell Tenzin about us.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. That was the last thing she’d expected to fall from his lips.

‘I can’t travel with him for a month, maybe more, with a good conscience, and not tell him.’

‘It’s none of his business,’ Lin insisted.

Bumi crossed his arms over his chest, ‘I’m aware of that Lin, but he’s my brother.’

He looked at his feet for a few moments before continuing, ‘We’ve been working on reconnecting…all of us, and I want to be completely transparent with him.’

She realized he had a point, but she wasn’t ready to concede the fact.

He sighed again, smiling softly and looked her directly in the eyes, it was as if he knew her thoughts.

‘But that’s only if you’re completely comfortable with the decision.’

Lin tilted her head in contemplation. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of Bumi…he was probably the most stable relationship she’d had since Tenzin. She wasn’t afraid of what others would think, but she was afraid of hurting Tenzin. She was afraid of losing her privacy. She was afraid of taking a step that she wasn’t ready for.

‘Bumi, we agreed to keep this quiet,’ she began.

‘I know,’ he interrupted, face falling slightly, ‘sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off.’

He swept his hand between them, gesturing for her to continue.

She scratched the back of her neck, trying to decide how to voice what she was thinking. Telling people about their relationship terrified her…the last time she had a public relationship, it had ended badly, she had been the topic of the gossip columns for weeks. She wasn’t a fool, she knew that it was part of the territory, being a child of a war hero and dating the child of the previous Avatar as well as a Master Healer (read THE Master Healer).

As if sensing her inner debate, Bumi whispered, ‘It’s only Tenzin.’

‘Tenzin will turn into Kya, and then your mother, and then my sister, and then Korra and her friends and…’ Lin’s thoughts were spiraling.

Their family would be happy…intellectually she knew that, but she still couldn’t bring herself to agree. She looked at him with what she hoped was an apologetic expression…she hoped he understood her reluctance.

He blew out breath as he reached forward, enfolding her stiff body into his arms. He nuzzled her temple, inhaling the soft floral scent with hints of metal.

‘It’s ok,’ he mumbled, ‘forget I brought it up.’

His words were meant to reassure her, but she couldn’t help feel guilty. She knew she didn’t give him the answer he’d been hoping for and squeezed him tighter in response.

Not long after this discussion, Bumi let her know that it was probably better if he returned to the island for the night. Tenzin still had a few final course corrections he wanted to discuss with his brother. She looked at him with a question in her eyes, one he couldn’t answer. She nodded dazedly, no quite sure how to respond.

She walked him to the door,she quickly glanced around, making sure that he hadn’t left anything he might need. She rubbed her arm awkwardly as she couldn’t meet his eyes. She knew he was frustrated but didn’t want to pressure her, he would wait until she was ready, if she ever was.

He sighed, almost sounding defeated, pulling her gently closer and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. He then turned to open the door, looking over his shoulder.

‘I’ll send a letter as soon as we land, we should be stationary at the temple for at least a week.’

Again Lin nodded, glancing up slightly, a hand massaging her upper arm. He smiled slightly and slipped through the doorway, the click of the lock deafening in her now empty apartment.

~

The tears were flowing freely now, she couldn’t stop them even if she tried. Why hadn’t she just agreed? Now thinking back, it had seemed so selfish, he didn’t deserve that. Their relationship was about give and take, and it seemed she’d been doing a lot of the taking so far.

She knew he understood, he knew her insecurities and her past hurts and how they affected her interactions with people. They had talked long and hard about communication before even venturing into this territory, admittedly unfamiliar for both of them. They wanted this to work…they loved each other. They had never said it out loud, but it was implicitly implied, they knew.

He made her feel safe and understood unlike anyone else. If anyone could comprehend the pressure of being the child of a war hero that didn’t seem to measure up to their famous parent, it was Bumi.

Lin could feel her nose starting to run and her eyes growing puffy. She hadn’t cried like this in a long time. Probably since she’d lost her bending…maybe even before that if she was being honest. After Tenzin had broken up with her? When she thought her mom would show and didn’t?

She rubbed her hands over her face roughly, frustrated with the loss of control of her emotions. She drew her knees up on to the patio chair, hugging them to her chest, as she laid her head on them. Her body shuddered with soft sobs, she couldn’t have stopped them if she tried.

‘Please don’t cry.’

His quiet voice startled her. She snapped her head up quickly, almost knocking the glass off its perch on the arm of her chair. She carefully unfolded her legs, her feet connecting with the floor, she could feel his heartbeat now. It was as erratic, matching hers in its rhythm.

His eyes smiled even if his mouth didn’t, she could feel the warmth enveloping her. Everything would be ok, it would work itself out, he came back. That had to mean something right?

She rushed to him and collided with his chest, a soft oof coming from his lips as he caught her easily. The sobs that were quiet earlier, the ones she was trying to contain, fell from her lips uninhibited. The more relieved she became, the louder the sounds from her mouth were, rising in pitch and frequency.

Bumi rubbed her back, quietly yet steady, until the sobs subsided in small whimpers. He had never heard these particular sounds from the metalbender in his arms. It was humbling to hear witness to such vulnerability.

‘I’m sorry,’ she hicupped into his chest, ‘I was selfish earlier…I should have at least discussed it with you.’

‘Shhhhh,’ he intoned gently, trying to calm Lin, ‘we don’t have to talk about it no, it’s ok.’

‘But it’s not!’ She insisted, ‘it’s not ok.’

She shook her head, unfolding herself from his arms, putting the needed distance between them, she needed to clear headed…and he was distracting. She wiped the tears and snot on the sleeve of her sweater, she could be disgusted about it later.

‘You can tell him,’ she whispered, ‘we can tell everyone, if that’s what you want.’

She paused, looking to his wide grey eyes and the beginnings of a smile stretching across his face. The hair on his head even more disheveled than normal, his crooked grin so reminiscent of his father, it made her smile in turn. Her eyes watered as she contemplated her next words

‘I love you,’ she her words soft and lilting, ‘so much.’

prompts 💜

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Forever & Always (Ethan x MC)

Summary: A quick little glance at Ethan’s thoughts moments before his wedding

A/N: A huge thank you to @anwenwrites for the idea and @drethanramslay for providing me much needed screenshots 

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman

If you want to be tagged, but it’s not working, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on. Blame tumblr, not me.

~v~

The Ritz Carlton ballroom is buzzing with energy. Everyone is chatting excitedly, looking around, waiting for the main event to get started. But Ethan Ramsey is a ball of nerves.

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s ever been nervous. Applying to college, interviewing for placement at Johns Hopkins, and his first day at Edenbrook were all previously in his top 3. But he can now say without a shred of doubt that those truly pale in comparison to what he’s feeling now.

Standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for his (soon-to-be) wife is the most nerve-wracking experience in his 38 years on this earth. It’s a combination of nerves and anxiousness that swells in the pit of his stomach, and he won’t feel settled until he can see her with his own two eyes and touch her with his own two hands.

He hasn’t seen her since their rehearsal dinner and is the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since they started dating. Naomi’s mother and Sienna were very adamant on the two of them not communicating the day before the wedding and the day of the wedding until the ceremony officially starts.

I just hope she’s okay, he thinks with a sigh.

In a few short minutes, she’s going to burst through the doors of this ballroom, walk down the aisle in a gorgeous gown, and they’ll be married. She’ll be his wife.

Ethan never thought he’d see this day. He’s never been a romantic, and he’s never seen a valid reason for legally tethering himself to another person.

“As an institution, it doesn’t make sense to me..”

“There’s no biological basis for that...”

“How are you supposed to know when you’ve met the right person?”

His previous views on marriage swirl around in his head on a loop and Ethan chuckles to himself. How could he have been so wrong about love, so off-base? Especially with the woman of his dreams standing in front of him the entire time?

The words sound so hollow and asinine now, and he can’t believe there was ever a time where he didn’t feel like this: stupidly and completely in love, happy, at peace. Naomi came into his life like a wrecking ball taking to the side of a building, pushing him, challenging him, loving him, warts and all, and he hasn’t been the same since. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ethan locks eyes with Naveen, who’s walking down the aisle, a big smile on his face. Within seconds, he’s at the altar, taking his place next to the anxious groom.

Naveen places a warm hand on Ethan’s shoulder and squeezes. “Are you ready, son?”

“Ready doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Ethan replies honestly.

“For what it’s worth, I just saw the entire wedding party out in the hallway. You have one very stunning bride.”

A dopey grin adorns Ethan’s face at the mention of Naomi. He’s sure she looks beautiful. She always does. “Yeah? How is she? Did she seem okay?”

“She’s perfect,” Naveen says. “As cool as a cucumber.”

It would be today of all days that they switch roles. Naomi has always been the more emotional one of the two, her heart securely on her sleeve, while he’s calm and put together. The answer sates some of the anxiety, just a bit. “Of course she is.”

Naveen gives him another smile. “I’m really proud of you.”

“For what? Getting married?”

“Yes, marrying Naomi is the smartest decision you’ve ever made,” Naveen shoots back with a smirk. “But to be serious, I’m proud of how much you’ve grown. I’m very happy you decided to let love in. No one deserves it more than you.”

Ethan clears his throat and coughs in order to disguise the fact that he’s getting choked up. “Thank you, old man. And thank you, for officiating.”

“There’s no need to thank me. As if I’d let the honor go to anyone else.”

Soft music starts playing and the double doors to the ballroom are thrown open. The first people he sees are his father escorting Naomi’s mother down the aisle. Then the wedding party comes down in pairs.

Ethan can feel his anxiety kicking up again as he sees their friends come towards him. By the time he sees Jackie and Bryce, he’s a ball of nerves. And once Sienna and Naomi’s brother Jacob come into his vision, his entire body feels near frozen.

He briefly closes his eyes, trying to settle the nerves.

In the distance, Ethan hears the wedding march starts and everyone shuffles around, so he opens his eyes again. And then he sees her.

There has never been a sight more beautiful than Naomi Valentine (Ramsey) in a wedding dress. He’s never been one to get caught up in cliches, but she looks like she stepped out of a fairytale. Her hair is up in some fancy updo, a small sparkling tiara on her head. The ballgown m that’s been taunting him for the past few weeks, hanging in the back of their closet in a garment bag flows around her, and she’s a vision of lace and embroidery.

She looks up at him with a smile so big and uninhibited, and they lock eyes, and Ethan has to resist the urge to run down the aisle, meeting her halfway. He wants to hold her, kiss her, say to hell with this ceremony and just sign the paperwork. Now that he has eyes on her, he doesn’t want to waste another second not being her husband.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his view of Naomi becomes blurry and obstructed, and he quickly wipes the tears away. It’s a wasted effort as they keep coming.

Eventually Naomi makes it down the aisle. She kisses her dad on the cheek and he shakes hands with Ethan before sitting down.

Before she can do anything, Ethan nearly tackles her with a bear hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in the sweet smell of the perfume she’s wearing. It might be inappropriate and they did not discuss this during the rehearsal, but he doesn’t care. The need to touch her is too overwhelming.

Eventually he breaks away and they touch foreheads. His hands gently cup her face and he looks down at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry if I’m ruining your makeup,” Ethan adds,  gently stroking her cheek.

“It’s fine.” Naomi wipes away one of his tears with the pad of her thumb. She giggles softly, and the noise makes his stomach flip. “Your eyes are red and swollen, so I don’t mind a little smudged makeup. We’ll look a mess together.”

Ethan is not sure how long they’re locked in their own perfect little bubble, but eventually Naveen clears his throat, getting their attention. He smiles at them. “If it’s okay with you two, how about we get this show on the road?”

Naomi regretfully pulls away, but she holds onto Ethan’s hand, squeezing tightly. “Ready to get married?”

“To you? Absolutely.”

[be11atrixthestrange]

Step 9: Making Plans

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Making Plans

A successful relationship means aligning your future. It's important to include one another in decisions, communicate your goals clearly, and remember your choices will affect your partner. Moving the relationship forward is a joint effort, and clear communication will make clear plans, and help manage the unexpected.

*****

If Ron could pinpoint one major difference between himself and Hermione, it would be this: Hermione was a planner, and Ron was not. During their school years, Ron frequently relied on Hermione's revising schedules before exams, or at least he tried to before inevitably entering examination rooms at least somewhat unprepared. During the horcrux hunt, he figured the best way to do something was just to do it, and he felt that Hermione's strategizing slowed them down quite a bit. They ended up going into the battle of Hogwarts without a plan, and everything (for the most part) worked out just fine— nothing that planning more would have fixed.

More recently, Hermione made an itinerary for a vacation to Italy. They managed to sync time off from their busy schedules, and Ron was ecstatic about some free time in a new country that he'd never been to before. Then he saw Hermione's hour by hour schedule for the week, and suddenly, their holiday felt like another busy week at work. She had spreadsheets— some barmy muggle organizing systems— to keep track of their shared finances and bills, and she planned each purchase before she made it. She meal-prepped, and bought groceries accordingly. She even had a system for apartment chores— the kitchen was always cleaned on Sundays and laundry was done on Saturdays, and if Ron shook it up it caused a domino effect that he couldn't even begin to predict.

He loosened her up quite a bit though. After seeing their Italy itinerary, he encouraged her to cross out half of it, and just wing it. She obliged, but not without scowling, and as a result, they discovered new corners of wizarding Italy that they would never have found in guidebooks, because Ron met the right person in a bar. When she got her end of year bonus at work, he encouraged her not to save all of it, just be a little bit irresponsible for once, and he came home to find that floor to ceiling bookshelves now lined the walls of their sunroom, filled to the brim with new, crisp, untapped stories. There were those nights when Ron convinced her to dress up and dine out with him even when she'd already made a plan for dinner. She might act inconvenienced at first, but there was always a gleam in her eye when she donned that fancy dress that never got worn, and they split not one, but two bottles of wine and ordered food they couldn't even pronounce. And of course, their home was usually spotless thanks to the chore schedule she'd made for them, but Ron liked it best when the laundry piled up a little, and dishes were left in the sink, and they distracted each other enough not to care.

Hermione begrudgingly agreed that she could let go and life happen every now and then, and Ron was quite good at adding a little bit of the unexpected into their relationship. And ultimately, Ron respected her commitment to planning, and admitted more of it would serve him well. That's why the next day would test both of them.

On their date tomorrow, Ron was going to ask her to marry him. He had it all planned out, down to every detail. The entire day was scheduled for them, just how she liked it. But the best part of the plan was that she was not expecting it at all.

They'd discussed it of course— he was quite confident she'd say yes. He wouldn't dare ask her otherwise.

Their discussions of marriage had evolved over the last few years. The first time he brought it up was after one year of living together. Ron figured that was enough time together, and engagement seemed like a logical next step for them.

He didn't propose to her, he simply asked her what she'd say if he did. It took him quite a bit of courage to ask her that, and unfortunately, her answer was not one Ron wanted, nor expected. Between "it's too soon" and "not enough time together" and "way too young" he regretted asking.

Granted, he didn't bring it up in an ideal manner. It was after a Friday night at the bar with Harry, Dean, Neville, and Seamus, and Ron hadn't exactly demonstrated the most mature version of himself. They were both drunk upon their return home, so his slurred inquiry fell upon the most stubborn, uninhibited, and emotional side of Hermione. Ron, who was slightly hurt by her response, reluctantly put the subject to rest.

He brought it up two years later at her cousin's wedding. Holly— Ellie's younger sister, who bore a striking resemblance to Hermione— wore a beautiful white dress that Ron couldn't help but picture on Hermione. He danced with her all evening, similar to the way they danced at his own brother's wedding years prior.

"Holly's dress is beautiful, isn't it?" she asked him.

Ron nodded against her head as they swayed on the dance floor. "It would look better on you." He braced himself for an unfavorable response. He was afraid she'd react the way she did that first time, but she needed to know it was on his mind. "I'd love to see you in a wedding dress someday, Hermione."

His heart was pounding, and his ears grew warmer, but he relaxed a little when she settled more heavily against him. "Someday, you will."

Not even a flock of canaries could have wiped the goofy grin from his face.

A year after that, Harry proposed to Ginny. Hermione was her maid of honor, and as expected, she jumped whole-heartedly into planning. The combination of Hermione's immaculate organization skills, Ginny's creativity, and Harry's money made their wedding one of the most fun and extravagant events Ron had ever been to.

Ron remembered waking up next to her the morning after. The periwinkle bridesmaid dress Ginny had chosen for her looked even better crumpled up on the floor beside their bed, and she'd never been more gorgeous with her matted hair and smeared makeup. They felt like hell— both had taken advantage of the open bar after fulfilling their wedding party duties, and neither could remember apparating back to their bedroom, but no one was splinched, and that's what mattered.

"Well, that was something," said Ron, recalling the blurry details of the night before. The live band, the five-course meal, the chocolate fountain, and Harry and Ginny's mystery cocktails made for the most memorable night that they couldn't recall.

"Is it bad that I'm glad it's over?" Hermione asked groggily.

Ron laughed. "No. It was a lot of work."

"Tell me about it," she said turning toward him. "When we get married, let's do something simple."

Ron was quite taken aback by how casually she mentioned this future wedding he'd heard nothing about. "When, or if?"

She smiled, as if clarifying was part of her plan. "When."

Ron beamed, and pulled her closer. "In that case, I'm going to propose to you, Hermione."

She beamed back. "Are you doing that now?"

"No," he said. "It's going to be a surprise."

"I hate surprises," she said cautiously. "So just so you're prepared, I'm going to say yes."

*****

The rest of the winter holiday break passed without many hiccups. Sure, there was a bicker every now and then, but it was nothing compared to their Hogsmeade fight, and always maintained a rather playful tone. They spent the majority of their daytime with Harry and Ginny, occasionally popping by the burrow for a meal. Molly mentioned they seemed just as comfortable with each other now than they did that summer, "as if no time had passed." Harry and Ginny's eye rolls and sarcastic comments just reassured Ron that no one had noticed the rift they had recently repaired.

Hermione seemed to be making a visible effort to show affection, and Ron appreciated her for it. Upon learning that he needed just a little more reassurance, she had buried any qualms she once had about holding his hand under the table at the burrow, or chastely kissing him in the garden when they weren't alone, or even leaning up against him on the living room sofa, and gently stroking his hair while his brothers smiled knowingly. She was even less inhibited in the bedroom. They spent their evenings thoroughly exploring each other's bodies, now that a new door had been opened. Sex quickly became Ron's new favorite activity, although he felt like a walking teenage stereotype admitting it. It wasn't just the physical pleasure— something about the new level of knowledge he now possessed about Hermione solidified his status as her partner. As if a new book in a series had just been released, he suddenly felt like his favorite fantasy world had expanded. He made it a goal to absorb this new knowledge as respectfully and with as much admiration as he possibly could, taking immense pleasure in the fact that he was even allowed to be there.

Ron had dreaded the second half of the holiday, because he had to go back to training, and she was leaving for Australia to visit her parents. Knowing Pigwidgeon would never be able to make that flight— not once, not twice, not nearly as many times as Ron would actually consider enough— he mentally prepared himself to go an entire week without hearing from Hermione. He also decided to call that progress— since two weeks ago, that would have felt like nothing.

They woke up together on the morning she had to leave. When she attempted to slide out of bed, he slipped his arm around her to prevent her.

"Don't leave," he mumbled into her hair.

"I have to," she said sadly. "I wish you could come with me."

"I can't." He tightened his arm around her and pressed his lips to her neck. "I wish I could write to you."

"Oh that reminds me," she said, wrestling out of Ron's grip. "I have another present for you." She leaned over the bed and pulled something shiny out of her bag.

"What's that?"

"Here," she said, placing one small gold coin in Ron's hand, and keeping another for herself.

"A galleon?"

"A fake one."

"Hold on, is this one of our DA galleons?"

"Yes! But I enchanted it further. Watch." She pulled out her wand and tapped the tip to the center of the coin, concentrating hard. The words "Hi Ron!" appeared. She showed him her coin, and the words had appeared on both.

Ron was dumbstruck. "We can communicate without owls?"

"Yes!" said Hermione.

"How did you think of this?"

"It's based on muggle technology, actually," she said. "My parents use pagers to communicate."

"I love muggles," said Ron, pulling her in for another hug. "And you."

"Love you too," she said, before pressing her lips to his. Her hands started to wander, and Ron forgot about the DA coins for the next few moments.

The new DA coins got quite a bit of use over the next week while Hermione was in Australia, and to Ron's excitement, when she went back to Hogwarts. It suddenly Ron felt like a wall had crumbled, and he had access to her daily life and thoughts. There was nothing better than feeling the gold coin in his pocket warm up, and seeing a short but telling message scrawled across the front. The short snippets of conversation helped him stay caught up on her thoughts.

...

Hermione: I just took a shot with my dad, what is happening?

Ron: Been there! Did he at least give you his expensive gin?

...

Ron: I'm pretty sure Harry is singing to himself in the shower. He's not bad, actually.

Hermione: You should join him!

Ron: …

...

Hermione: What are you up to?

Ron: Eating.

Hermione: Go figure

...

Ron lived for these kinds of conversations. "Don't accidentally spend it!" was what she had told him, as if anything would be remotely worth it.

Although the coins were great for constant access to communication, they were not ideal for detail. When Hermione went back to school, he continued his weekly letters, and was pleasantly surprised that she did too.

The letters picked up where the coins left off, and rather than catching each other up on their daily lives, they used them to make plans. With the letters, they could fully detail their Hogsmeade plans, provide more context for their texts, and even begin discussing their ideas for term-end. Ron used a letter to suggest that Hermione move into Grimmauld Place with him and Harry after graduation, and he was thrilled that he didn't have to wait anxiously for pig to bring back her response, which was a resounding yes.

They didn't include all plans in their letters, because Hermione still managed to surprise him for his birthday. He came home from work on March 1st to find her sitting at their kitchen table with a big smile on her face.

"How did you get here?"

"Floo!" she said as she launched into his arms. "I told McGonagall it was an emergency."

"And what was the emergency," Ron said, hugging her so tightly that he lifted her off his feet.

"Your birthday!"

"And she let you leave?" he asked incredulously. She nodded. "I thought you hated surprises," he continued.

"I do, but I know you like them."

"I love them," he told her. "But I have to work this weekend —"

"No, you don't!" she said. "Harry's covering for you."

Ron beamed. "Really? He's in on this?"

She nodded. "Least he can do, for all the years he spent, you know, getting in our way."

Harry was not there to interfere that night, and thankfully, she had even more surprises planned for him. Ron didn't wake up predicting sex that day, and he definitely hadn't expected her to be wearing lacy lingerie under her school robes. One of the best surprises was how confidently she led him to his room, and pushed him onto the bed, expertly undoing the buttons of his jeans while her mouth never left his. His attraction to her was only multiplied by how unafraid she was to tell him what she wanted, and less surprising, but still unexpected, was his discovery of how much he liked being told what to do. Auror training had given him plenty of practice in taking orders, but until that night, he'd never enjoyed being so obedient.

It was the best birthday that Ron could remember. They spent the entire weekend in bed, either making love, or not making love, and he was grateful for all of it. Only three more months until they could do this every night, which reminded Ron to continue the disjointed conversation they'd been having over enchanted galleons.

"So I know you were planning on moving in here," he started. "What if we got our own place?"

"What about Harry?"

"What about him?" asked Ron.

"Won't he be lonely without you?"

Ron snorted. "He'll have Ginny."

Hermione looked at him through narrowed eyes. "So he told you she's moving in?"

"I knew you knew!" he said playfully.

"You're ok with it?"

"No, but I don't want to live with it, I would feel better if we got our own place."

They agreed to wait until term ended to officially start apartment hunting, so that Hermione could fully focus on completing her NEWTS and job applications. When she went back to school, their communication faltered a little bit, but it didn't bother Ron as much as it did their first term, because he knew exactly why her letters were shorter, and he was thrilled she was making the effort.

Her letters were still detailed enough that he knew of each job application she submitted, and he could feel her excitement about one particular one— an entry-level position in the office of magical law. The open position specifically dealt with updating and passing laws regarding the rights of magical creatures and Ron felt that Hermione was completely mental to think she was anything but a shoe-in.

They planned to meet at the ministry for lunch before her interview, and Ron showed up expecting nothing short of panic from Hermione. He sat through lunch acting as an interviewer, and let her rehearse her answers and talking points for her entire meal. He probably asked her more questions about S.P.E.W that day than he ever did during their school years, and he was quite impressed to learn how much she knew about magical law, even though it was never a subject at Hogwarts. He might be biased, but if he were really interviewing her, he'd hire her on the spot.

"You're going to be amazing, you know that?"

"I'm going to fail."

"They'd be lucky to have you," he told her, leaning in for a kiss across the table. He truly felt that way, they'd have to be idiots not to hire her, but again, he might be biased.

She trembled the whole way into her interview. Before she entered the interview room, he stopped her, and pulled her into his arms. "Just take five deep breaths, Hermione." He held her there, syncing his breathing up with hers, just like he did when she had a nightmare. Eventually, he felt her shoulders relax, and her spine straighten. "You can do this. You're brilliant."

"Thank you." She smiled gratefully and kissed him goodbye, or at least what she thought was goodbye. What she didn't know was that Ron had taken the afternoon off, and would be taking her out for a— likely celebratory— drink when the interview was over.

He sat down on a hallway bench and waited.

Hermione was beaming when she left the room an hour later, followed by two older, official-looking ministry employees. Ron stood as they each shook Hermione's hand. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but they appeared to be making plans.

She bid them goodbye and turned to see Ron standing there. Ron smiled nervously— he knew she hated surprises. "You're still here?"

Ron nodded. "I figured you'd need a drink—"

He was interrupted by her flinging herself into his arms. "They hired me!"

Ron lifted her off her feet and kissed her, and in a way, it felt like their first kiss in the Room of Requirement. He didn't care that people he knew were passing them in the hallways, and some of them might be Hermione's future coworkers. He didn't care that snogging his girlfriend in a crowded ministry hallway contradicted the excuse he used to get out of work early— he wasn't coming down with anything contagious other than genuine elation.

They apparated back to Hogsmeade, and he took her out for a celebratory butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. It wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, so the bar was relatively empty, save for a few professors, but Ron and Hermione didn't care. They made their way to their favorite booth in the back of the bar, and toasted to Hermione's new job, because their plans were falling into place beautifully, like dominoes that had been so precariously set over the past eight years they'd known each other.

They spent that evening making plans, and all of their plans came true. Hermione aced her N.E.W.T.S. She graduated with top marks, and celebrated at the burrow with his family. She moved into Grimmauld Place temporarily, and after just two short weeks of researching and touring apartments, they moved into their very own flat. It was in a muggle neighborhood, but had a second guest room and was right on a train line so her parents could visit, but the thing that made it perfect was that she lived there. In a way, that evening at the Three Broomsticks felt like the first day of the rest of their lives— their future finally felt clear, and they could plan for it. But when she unexpectedly ordered another round, not of butterbeer— of firewhiskey, and suggested they rent a room at the Hog's head to keep celebrating, he realized some of the best parts of his future with her would be entirely unplanned.

[isabella-aldwyn]

isabella’s psych print

MBTI ♔ ENFP- Turbulent

“It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply.”

░ They are fiercely independent spirits who thrive off freedom, imagination, and creativity. Through their eyes, the world is one of emotions, compassion and deep meaning. It holds bright possibilities, and they themselves burst with potential. As such, they treat the world with great excitement and brightness. Because of their charismatic, enthusiastic, and energetic personality, they often find themselves as the life of the party. They are perfectly capable of switching from a passionate, driven idealist in the workplace to that imaginative and enthusiastic free spirit on the dance floor.

░ Their warmth, excitement, and passion are alluring to those around them. When they experience the world, they do not merely revel in the pleasure of the present but instead will find deeper meaning in the social and emotional connections they build with others. 

░ ENFPs have an unusually broad range of skills and talents. They are good at most things which interest them. An ENFP needs to feel that they are living their lives as their true Self, walking in step with what they believe is right. They see meaning in everything, and are on a continuous quest to adapt their lives and values to achieve inner peace. [Okay, this paragraph is copy and pasted because I got lazy.]

░ One who is a turbulent ENFP (unlike an assertive ENFP) refers to how they view themselves. Comparatively to assertive ENFPs, turbulent ENFPs are more sensitive and perceive themselves in a more negative light, unwilling to accept successes and validate oneself. When faced with a shortcoming that they believe they possess, turbulent ENFPs overthink and overwork to compensate. Because of this self-candour, turbulent ENFPs can show their humanity and vulnerability to others more deeply and quickly.

"Set your life on fire. Seek those who fan your flames.”

░  For them relationships are opportunities for mutual exploration and wonderous imagination. Love and relationships are really connections with another soul. When an ENFP chooses a partner to devote their heart to, they are known for their uninhibited and unshakeable devotion.

“The dreamers of the day are dangerous people. For they dream their dreams with open eyes, and make them come true.”

░ ENFPs can be dangerous. Both manipulative and charming, they win people over to their side using charisma and wrap them around their little finger. ENFPs have the ability to acquire power and influence because of this. But once they have it, it can be used responsibly or irresponsibly

Enneagram ♔ Type 7w2 (Enthusiast/Adventurer w Helper)

“If we were meant to stay in one place, we’d have roots instead of feet [s]he said.”

░  Adventurers are energetic, lively, and optimistic. They want to contribute to the world. Sevens are defined by their desire to experience everything life has to offer while avoiding pain and boredom. They appear to others to be lively, fun-loving and hedonistic. Sevens are often very busy people who bounce from one activity to another in their quest to squeeze every possible bit of enjoyment out of life.

“I will love you without any strings attached.”

░  Helpers hold unconditional love for others.  Twos are empathetic, sincere, and warm-hearted. However, they are motivated by want to be loved, to express their feelings for others, to be needed and appreciated, and to get others to respond to them. At their worst, they demonstrate possessiveness and denial of their own needs. 

Alignment ♔ Chaotic Good

A person who is chaotic good is: unpredictable, independent, free spirited, cheerful, optimistic, easy going, carefree, helpful, kind, merciful

░  A combination of a kind soul with a free spirit, she makes her own way but will always choose the benevolent path. She follows her own moral compass, which although has good intentions, may not always align with society’s expectations and values. All in all, she is a strong and individualist character. Freedom is viewed to be the surest manner of achieving the true meaning and satisfaction in life. She acts as her conscience directs her with little regard for expectations from others. Though good at heart, their desires lend to traits of selfishness and potentially greed. That being said, despite not following formal structures or regulations, she strongly believes the world is constructed upon good and righteousness, and works towards exemplifying this. 

Love Languages ♔ Physical Touch

░  For Bella, physical touch is another version of her voice. It is the love language of speaking through touch in any form to convey her emotions and extend love. Physical presence and accessibility are crucial, especially in the face of crisis where it instills safety and security. However, touches must be appropriate and timely to effectively communicate warmth, safety, and love.

(I will add that Bella does not think physical touch replaces communication. Rather, it is important to physically communicate while also vocally communicating, or to reinforce oral communication with action.)

[mybeingthere]

In my pursuit of landscape painters I often see woods through seasons, in bright colours or shady blacks, with trunks lining up canvases, thick and thin, regular and random... Some brilliant, some only ok - the fun of it is to understand what makes these lined up trees so attractive to people. Our souls must need an option of running into these mysterious theatrical sets and disappearing for a long time....

Driven by imagination, George Shipperley paints woods with oil pastels.

"Uninhibited, seeking unplanned and intuitive combinations, he puts down many layers of oil pastel across a large sheet of mat board and scrapes it all down with a single-edged razor blade, or liquefies it with medium to achieve a chance mixture of color and texture that brings to mind a certain mood. “I like that spontaneity, the way the color stirs my emotion. I let the results suggest to me what’s there.” Once he arrives at a subject, he then divides the paper into loose shapes that define the larger masses, and freely describes what is in his mind’s eye. “The design is the most important aspect. These shapes determine the poetry of spacing and the ease of looking at them. I may divide it up so there are trees or hills. I usually begin with the sky, working forward, progressing via the divisions, constantly asking myself what this suggests.

”When painting with oil pastels, Shipperley is most concerned with distilling his subject matter to its essence, using very little detail."

https://www.artistsnetwork.com/.../george-shipperley.../

[blogspersonal707]

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More ways to help Fritch, Texas after wildfires

–St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church Amarillo -Fritch Fire Volunteers — please note! The address for the multi-agency resource center — MARC — has changed. The new address is 308 Ridgeland, Fritch TX 79030. Please follow the Red Cross signs. –Toot’n Totum … Continue reading

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