#if i died in the middle of a paradise!!!!!!!

[legalandnotease]

One claim I often see Tony fans making is that Steve was being selfish for not "considering children born during the Snap" in the team's desire to bring everybody back.

This is obviously a form of emotional blackmail After all- how could *anybody* want to erase *billions* of children?

Well, this claim is wrong for a number of reasons

1: There is no evidence of large-scale births or an increasing birth rate during the Snap. Tony fans often say that there must have been millions and milions of children born during the Snap, but this makes no sense because, as a general rule humans do not simply "get over" losing their entire family an "move on".

Even losing one child can be an emotional blow that person never recovers from. Clint Barton lost all 3 of his children, and we know he did not simply "move on" and start a new family.

People do not simply recover from such things in a few years and create new families. It almost never happens.

Furthermore, population dynamics come to play: some planets lost as much as 3/4 of their population due to Thanos pre-Snap genocides.

Even for those who lost "only" half though this would mean half of all birthing females and existing children snapped.

Fewer birthing females means..... a lower birth rate. Also take account of things like infertility and the fact that some women who lost thier children would have been beyond childbearing age: notable case - Queen Ramonda.

Even assuming people were interested in relationships and reproduction (and most were not) the birth rate during the Snap would have been expontentially lower then it was before.

Real life disasters and catastrophes also reveal that it takes a long time for the population to recover. The Black Death killed 1/3 to 1/2 of the population of Europe in the Middle Ages- and it took something along the lines of 3 to 4 centuries for the population to reach the level that it had been before the plague struck.

Literally: it can take HUNDREDS of years for the population to recover. The idea that the world would have returned to normal after only 5 years is ludicrous.

2: The children killed by the Snap.

Half of the human race were snapped. This would have included children. Potentially hundeds of millions of children were killed by the Snap. This is far more than the number who who have been born during the Snap.

There's another issue however: many children would have died after the Snap.

Sick children whose parents or doctors were snapped and were unable to get the medical treatment they needed

Young children whose parents were snapped would have died within a few days if nobody found them.

Children in poorer countries would have been the first to succumb to things like famines and food shortages caused by the Snap.

However, children in rich countries would have followed. Food shortages and the breakdown of intractructure would have caused problems witht the availability of food and medical supplies. Diseases would have become more common without the medicines to keep them in check, and poor sanitation.

In other words, potentiallly hundreds of millions more children would have died after the Snap in addition to those who had been Snappped.

None of those children would have been bought back by Bruce's Snap in Endgame. They would have stayed dead. All because of Tony's selfish insistence that he "didn't change anything from the last 5 years".

So, no matter how Tony fans want to try and twist things: Tony Stark was quite prepared to sacrifice *hundreds of millions* if not billions of children for the sake of his desire to preserve his personal paradise.

He did not, in fact, "save everybody" at all. He saved only those bought back after the Snap and ... not really even them as they had to contend with years of social and economic problems.

You know what the most interesting irony of it all is though? Tony fucked over all those people for nothing. Pepper was already pregnant before the Snap, so reversing it would not have erased Morgan anyway.

[unknownarmageddon]

brother you MUST listen to back to life by mother mother

send reaction boy

!!!!!!!

[nahpkmp]

And if I died in the middle of a frozen night

Would you feel alright? Would you be alright?

If i died in the middle of your paradise

Would you change your mind?

Would you bring me back to life?

[soothingmoonlight]

OP, I am pretty sure you mean Christopher Tester's rendition of Fëanor's speech. I watched it too and absolutely loved it! I am posting a link to the video below for anyone who wants to watch/hear his delivery of Fëanor's speech to the Noldor.

I recently watched a rendition of Fëanor's speech to the Noldor on TikTok and I gotta say, hearing it spoken gives it so much more power than just reading it.

While reading the Silmarillion I've always thought that it was a very charismatic speech, even if Fëanor is basically asking his people to leave the only home they've known to literally fight a god. Tolkien wrote an absolute banger of a speech where just reading it already has me going "yeah, yeah that makes sense I get why the Noldor would up and leave after hearing this".

But hearing it being spoken and not only read as part of an audiobook, but actually spoken by a voice actor in an interpretation of how Fëanor would've spoken it really gave it a lot more depth that I wasn't expecting. It was very rousing, it's like your mind was silenced and all you can do is hang onto Fëanor's every word. By the time the voice actor finished the speech, I was ready to pack my bags, cross the ocean to a place I've never been to, and potentially die fighting a god. While my brain still paused at the subtle hints of manipulation (because that speech was manipulative to a degree. But I think that deserves its own post), it was mostly overridden by the 'fuck yeah let's do this' mentality.

The people who stayed back (before the Kinslaying of Alqualondë) during the Flight of the Noldor after hearing that speech are the real deal. It honestly takes strength to not get dragged in by the roaring emotions.

[yanoverload]

Yandere Unicorn Hybrid

Hello dearly beloveds. I am early this time.

This is in the same universe as yandere cow boy and yandere tanuki, but set in the medieval times.

If you feel like it gives you Epic vibes no it doesn't.

I also feel like this is one of the longest I've written LOL

The cold mud seeps from the ground, and works as an ointment to my hurt feet. I sigh as I wish I had the time to stop, but if I do, the enemy will ambush me.

War was never a pretty sight. But humans, just like beasts, felt the need to shed blood for food, territory, status. I suppose that is the way of the world.

No one expected the ambush, it was cowardly, we were apart os a simple camp of injured soldiers and doctors, trying to recover from the losses. Enemy soldiers put fire in the tents, specifically in the medical center. I managed to run in only sleep rags, but maybe I should have stayed. 

Maybe I should've died with some glory, but I am just human. 

"I want to go back to my family" I hold my arm trying to bite off the pain. The bandages seem loose, and the stab wounds are starting to seep blood through my clothes.

Before I notice, my desperation makes me go further than normal, as I encounter a scenario I have never noticed in the forest. I don’t think I ever came this deep into it in my time at camp.

There were several flowers lying around in a wild, but also organized manner. It really was a pretty sight. In the center of the stage was a clearing, one where a river crossed right as the trees gave way, showing a beautiful sun.

I get one foot forward. Then another. Almost as if in a daze towards the river.

As I approach I see the trees are filled with fruit, perfectly ripe with no bumps or noticeable bugs, I check the water, it's clean looking and at perfect temperature.

Have I died in the middle of the forest and gone to heaven? Am I still in the medical bed hallucinating?

As I'm about to sip from the water, I hear a yell. I almost mistake it for the enemy soldiers.

"Begone filth! Before you damage this land with your corruption." 

All I see is a gorgeous human being, ethereal like never seen before. Pale like the moon, with eyes that glitter like stars.

Their hair, silky smooth, almost as blue and shiny as the river before me. In their forehead a horn. Have I met one of the fae? Did I step into a faerie circle?

As I behold the marble statue glaring at me, I feel as if the shine of the sun starts to dim, my body feeling heavier than armor.

I blink as I see the strangers worried and panicked state as I fall to the ground, energy depleted.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Some more facts about him! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

In the future, humanity changed their own DNA to produce hybrids. What they didn't know is that certain types have existed for centuries.

Unicorns are one of them. Believed to be a horse with a horn, they are rather humanoid figures, most commonly mistaken as faeries or elves for their graceful stature.

As beings blessed by life, they live in another dimension from other living beings, a paradise no one seems to ever encounter apart from those in fairytales.

Éliphas is one of those. But rather than in a group he seems to live in one of those havens by himself. Until you came along.

He's been lonely for so long, even if he seems to despise you... He wishes for you to stay.

Unicorns tend to prefer pure things, and you are not pure at all, but that doesn't seem to bother Éliphas.

Super tsundere yan.

Unicorns are supposed to be pure of heart, so he would never kill anyone, but he doesn't need it! Because you seem to be stuck in his domain and can't get out... Oh no.

He acts like a housewife

Says he's looking for a way for you to leave, but let's be honest he's lying.

Are you corrupting him perhaps?

Wears little to no clothes, how doesn't he feel cold in the forest? His domain is the perfect weather, not too much sun but enough breeze.

Height: 176 cm (5'9 feet)

[blueiscoool]

4,000-Year-Old Tomb Discovered in Egypt

Archaeologists have discovered the 4,000-year-old ancient Egyptian tomb of "Idi," a local governor's daughter who lived during Egypt's Middle Kingdom (circa 2030 to 1640 B.C.). She was buried within two coffins, one inside the other, representatives of the Egyptian Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities wrote in a statement on Facebook.

"Finding two intact Middle Kingdom coffins is extraordinary," Kathlyn Cooney, a professor of ancient Egyptian art and architecture at UCLA who was not involved with the excavation, said in an email. These coffins "not only seem well preserved but [are] covered with intricate coffin texts that helped the deceased find their way in the realm of the Underworld," Cooney said.

Studying the new coffin texts may provide more information on how the Egyptians viewed the afterlife, said Caroline Arbuckle, an assistant professor of history at the University of Saskatchewan who was not involved with the excavation. "It is always possible that Egyptologists will find new variations, and these help us to better understand what the ancient Egyptians were afraid might stop them from reaching their eternal paradise, or what they felt they might need in the underworld."

Idi lived during the reign of Senwosret I (circa 1961 to 1917 B.C.) and was the daughter of Djefaihapi, the governor of Asyut, one of the richest provinces at the time.

Her tomb was robbed in ancient times, but parts of the skeleton remained. Analysis of those skeletal remains revealed the woman likely died before age 40 and had a congenital defect in one foot.

The larger of the two coffins was 8.6 feet (2.6 meters) long, while the smaller one was 7.5 feet long (2.3 m), according to the statement. Archaeologists also found the remains of a coffin lid and wooden figurines.

One of the wooden figurines shows a standing woman who may be Idi. If it is, it would "add to a very limited data set of funerary objects that presumably depict the deceased," Cooney said.

In fact, two figurines may depict Idi, Francesco Tiradritti, an Egyptology professor at the Kore University of Enna in Italy who is not part of the excavation. A second figure may show a woman marching. "I am wondering if that statue does not depict the soul of Idy that is coming out from the tomb," Tiradritti said.

Wolfram Grajetzki, an Egyptologist and honorary senior research fellow at University College London who was not involved in the research, said that the coffin's hieroglyphs call Idi the "lady of the house."

Many tombs and burials have been discovered at Asyut over the past 130 years, and some were found in excavations of dubious legality, he added. Artifacts from those excavations are now in museums around the world.

By Owen Jarus.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Hi, I apologize if I'm being annoying but I love your shipping au and I was thinking of something and wanted to tell you

What if once the shipp that is most trending is MC x the worst possible noble of that country. Like, people notice mc has a lot of chemistry with glasya or bimet and instead of a king there is now a whole thread talking about how mc should stay with the noble instead of the king? I think it would be really funny

Oh, I love this. Mc that has terrible taste in men is so real.

*Glasylabolas posts a photo of him kissing Mc*

Glasylabolas: Task failed succesfully

Foras: I'm glad you like the dead so much because there's no way you're going to keep on living after this

Barbatos: I'm preparing the candles

Glasylabolas: It's fineeeeee I made it so only people that follow me can see it. His majesty Leviathan doesn't follow anyone.

Dantalian: BROOOOOOOO THIS IS SO COOOOOOL

Glasylabolas: I know, right? The child of Solomon is my significant other now. Everyone else can go cry about it.

Dantalian: You'll be sharing with your bestie, right

Dantalian: 🥹👉👈

Glasylabolas: Of course

Dantalian: Yepeeeee

Glasylabolas: Tell Ronové to check his dms

Dantalian: He's busy. We're in the middle of a battle

Glasylabolas: I don't care, I want to see if he has time in his scheduel for our threesome

Dantalian: wait... I thought I was your bestie!

Glasylabolas: I have many besties, Dantalian

Glasylabolas: Most of them from Abaddon. You people trully understand me

Dantalian: It's fine. Wanting to fuck corpses is tame. Just yesterday someone died from getting fucked by a horse.

Glasylabolas: Crazy

Dantalian: Can I have more pics with you and Mc? I want to make an edit

Glasylabolas: Absolutely, just send it to me directly

Dantalian: sure sure

*Glasylabolas posted 10 more photos*

Dantalian: wiat ill doiy when i grt homt

Glasylabolas: Are you having a stroke?

Dantalian: m typng wjth m feert

Glasylabolas: Pop off

5 hours later

*Dantalian posted an edit*

Dantalian: It's done!

Glasylabolas: This is great! Though why is the song "Be my bad boy"

Dantalian: Because you're the bad boy and Mc is the badass dom

Glasylabolas: They haven't dommed yet

Dantalian: yet

Gamigin: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS??????

Paimon: It's not even photoshopped... Glasy, how could you?!

Eligos: Nooooooo out of all the bad decisions, Mc made the worst one

Amon: I think I just lost my appatite for the next century

Dantalian: Come on, guys, it's not that bad!

Amon: @Gamigin are there any free beds in Paradise Lost? I think I need emergency medical attention

Gamigin: I'll send Buer over

Amon: Thx

Eligos: This is fucking outragous

Paimon: My main question is how Glasy is still alive

Foras: @Glasylabolas I think you should brace yourself

Gamigin: What happened?

Barbatos: Hi guys!!!! So, his handsome majesty Leviathan took care of everything. His last words were "This is hot"

Gamigin: Is he dead?

Paimon: Good

Dantalian: He was a good devil.

Dantalian:

Dantalian: Stay strong, brothers

Foras: He's not dead, just unconcious

Paimon: Bumeeeer

*This forum has been terminated at the request of his majesty Leviathan*

[scoonsalicious]

7.2 Bucky*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (oral (m receiving)).

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: Bucky surprised you with a night-time picnic. You exchanged dog tags, and now things have taken a sexy turn.

A/N: Fair warning, this and the next two sections are smut! Hurray!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Bucky Barnes was convinced in that moment he’d died and gone to heaven. How else could he explain the sight before him? Major, on her knees, completely naked in the middle of the woods, save for his dog tags around her neck, body glowing under the candlelight of the lanterns as she palmed his aching erection through his jeans, telling him how much she wanted it down her throat. 

But Bucky knew that a man who carried as many sins on his back as he did had no hope of finding paradise in the afterlife, so this could only be the real thing. He watched with mouth hanging open as Major crawled up his body, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. “Help a girl out and lift your hips, Sergeant?” she asked him with a smirk.

Bucky let out a low groan as he obliged, lifting his hips from the blanket so Major could pull his pants off his legs. Once she’d removed them, she tossed them aside atop her own pile of discarded clothes. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, “you sure look pretty, Sarge. Let’s get that shirt off.” Bucky made a move to reach for the hem of his shirt, but Major tutted him. “Let me take care of you tonight,” she said. “You always do such a good job of making me feel good; I want to return the favor.” Her hands reached to his waist, dragging his shirt up and over his torso, then his head, and Bucky thought he was going to cum on the spot. He’d never been with a woman so… enthusiastic? Insatiable? Commanding? All of the above, he thought. 

Once she had his shirt off, she leaned back on her haunches and studied him, licking her lips as she took him in. “I just want you to lay back and let me do all the work, okay?” she asked him. 

Bucky found he couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat but did as Major asked, leaning back on his elbows so he could watch her. She locked eyes with him, and he expected her to take his briefs off of him the way she had his pants, but instead, she leaned down and began to nuzzle his cock with her cheek through the fabric.

He sucked in a breath as she drew her nose along his clothed length. As he grew harder, she began sucking open-mouthed kisses against him. While Bucky couldn’t wait to feel her warm mouth against his sensitive skin, the friction the fabric was providing as she worked on him was divine.

“Fuck, sugar,” he grunted as her palm rolled over him. The gray fabric of his boxer briefs was already dark with precum, but Major added to the growing wet patch with her saliva. “If I don’t get these off soon, it’s gonna be the second pair I’ve ruined because of you in two days.”

Major laughed, her mouth so close to Bucky’s groin, he could feel the vibration of it in dick. “Wouldn’t want that,” she said teasingly. “No washer and dryer out here in the woods. Though, I suppose you could rinse them out in the stream and I could fuck you until they’re dry.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky asked, his laugh turning into a gasp as Major rolled his boxer briefs down his hips, setting his erection free.

“Nope, just this fat cock,” Major said, winking at him. Once she’d slid his underwear down to his knees, she leaned forward and gave his cockhead a featherlight kiss. Bucky grunted and arched his back. Who knew the softest of touches could feel so fucking good?

Major licked a long, slow stripe along the underside of Bucky’s cock from the base to the tip, and Bucky nearly came right then. He tried to think of any and everything he could come up with to stave off his orgasm as Major took him fully into her mouth. 

He settled on the 1941 Brooklyn Dodgers. 

Major’s tongue around his tip, dancing over its weeping slit and Bucky bent his knees to brace himself against the ground… 

Winning the Pennant for the first time in 21 years over the Cardinals. 

Her cheeks hollowing as her mouth tightened around him, enveloping him in her warm heat… 

Losing the World Series to the goddamn Yankees, 3 to 1 in the fifth and final game. 

Her tongue sliding along the underside of his cock as her head began to bob back and forth, taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust. 

Higbe and Wyatt pitching their best seasons. 

The feeling of her nose brushing up against the curly hairs of his pubic bone… 

Eight hundred runs, the highest in the league and – Jesus fucking Christ, was she actually swallowing around him?!

It was too much. Despite his best efforts, everything she was doing to him felt too wonderful, too euphoric for him to continue to think straight, let alone try and hold back. “Fuck, sugar, pull off; ‘m gonna cum,” he grunted, but Major didn’t retreat. If anything, her eyes took on a sardonic look and she gripped his thighs tighter and began moving her head faster than she had before. God, Bucky thought as he watched her from between his legs, she looked a vision, the way she was devouring him. With her eyes locked on his, and the flickering shadows dancing in the candlelight, she looked like something out of ancient myth, a goddess of fire and lust, of darkness and passion. And he was a willing sacrifice to her alter.

The candlelight reflecting off the silver tag around her neck that bore his name. Of all the mere mortals that roamed the planet, Major had selected Bucky Barnes to bestow upon him the honor of seeing her, like this, in all of her divine glory. 

With a grunt that bordered on a growl, Bucky came at that thought– the thought that someone like her felt that he, of all people, was worthy. He could feel seemingly never-ending ropes of his cum spurt from his cock, and he was fully expecting Major to pull away– none of the other girls he had ever been with could seem to withstand the amount of cum the serum led him to produce, but Major? Major continued to suck him like he was a straw, as though she were trying to draw every ounce of cum out of Bucky’s balls and take it down her throat. And by the gleam in her eye, she seemed to actually be enjoying it. 

After what felt like the longest orgasm of Bucky’s very long life, he finally stopped, his cock beyond sensitive. Bucky’s elbows gave out and he fell onto his back, gasping for breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cum that hard. Gently, Major slid herself off of him. She wiped at her mouth gently with a hand, then moved to grab one of the extra blankets Bucky had brought for their picnic. She carefully draped it over him, then crawled up alongside his body to mold herself along his length.

“Are you okay?” she asked, tracing a gentle finger along the line of his jaw.

Bucky sucked in a gulp of air before turning to face her. “You…” he began, not even sure where he was going with his thought, he was so lost in the post-orgasmic fog of his brain, “you are fucking magic.”

Major pressed her forehead against Bucky’s shoulder and snickered. “If you say so,” she told him. 

“I do say so,” Bucky said, still trying to catch his breath. “I just need a minute.”

“Take your time,” Major said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[shapard]

hihii! I was wondering if I could request a Lucifer x fem!reader, where the reader was a nun in her life and still is kinda one in hell but dedicates herself to lucifer yk what I mean? :3 I’m sorry if this isn’t really in detail!

Demons

Lucifer x Sinner!Nun!femreader

A/n: Heyy! I hope this meets your expectations!

Soft Lucifer, Social awkward Lucifer, Nun reader

Part 1 < Part 2

You hate it here. 

Hell was full of sinners and Demons. The ground is covered in crimson blood. The blood bleeds into your clothes, leaving the white in pure red.

Violence was the only way Sinners communicate. 

You were mad at the Lord themself. You prayed each day and night. Always followed the rules and gave up every rich thing in your life. All to serve the father.

Many people thought you were too young to pursue this path but to you it was a blessing itself. 

One day, the worst and best thing that ever happened to you. You saved a life and you died instead. 

You waited and waited for the light of Jesus and God. So that they can take you in their hands and lift you to paradise. Yet after all you've done, you were falling.

The void of pure darkness ate you and threw you down to the most feared place. Hell.

The compact on thee ground hurt as if you died again. The force knocked you completely out. Luck was on your side and gifted you a home. At home two demons were leaving and let you stay in their old house.

You'll never forget them.

One day you took a walk in a different area, trying to find a loophole anywhere. Just one sign to get to those purely gates. To your dismay, nothing.

Instead of worrying too much you went to a hell’s Library. Reading through every book to get Information about this place. 

The Lore of Lucifer is very Interesting.

The father’s Favorite banished from heaven because of the Forbidden Apple. As you kept reading the more it Fascinated you. 

Why did Lucifer give Eve the Apple? 

How is Heaven? 

The more you found out about the king of hell the more obsessed you got.

Who exactly is Lucifer Morningstar? The Lord you served so long for let you down so easily, but would Lucifer? Too many questions spiraled in your head, it started to pound in pain.

The library was closing soon, so you stuffed the books into your rucksack and left the place in a fast pace. 

The book may not give you the answers you need but Lucifer could. Without wasting any seconds, you wander around the so-called pride ring in Hell. 

It seems there are 7 rings like the 7 sins. One of them being Lucifer. The fun part you learned is that the appearance in hell has something to do with the way you die.

Your appearance resembled a black cat hybrid, you mainly looked humane just with some extras. A pair of cat ears, claws and a tail that swayed behind you.

Finally, after headaches, Mental Breakdowns, and research you got an idea how to get Lucifers attention.

Praying. A very simple yet tiring process. After weeks of preparation you got everything that you needed. Your body shook under fear as you lit up the candles.

You don't feel that confident anymore. Praying to God is something different. They were pure and was the creator of everything. But Lucifer was the pure evil. The complete opposite.

You were in the center of a pentagram that was drawn with your and a goat’s blood. The flames around you were so hot you thought you were in the middle of a fire. 

With a shaky breath you closed your eyes and sat down on your calves. Another deep breath and you began your prayer. 

When you were finished the candles were burned out but nothing besides the wax that coated the floor.

With a sigh you rubbed your hands on your face. The whole procedure was for nothing.

Exhausted you took the candles and threw it in the dustbin. “Was worth a shot.” You said disappointed as you sat on a very old bed. A loud crash sends you out of your little sweet daydream about kittens. You jumped up and grabbed the next object, a Fan.

Curse words echoed through your Livingroom. “Who’s there?” You shouted as you switched the lights on. A short figure with a huge hat came in the view.

“Fuck! eh... Sorry for the mess.” Confused at his words you looked around seeing your Livingroom really a complete mess. Nothing was at its usual place.

The guy watched as your jaw dropped a bit. “What in the name of Jesus did you do?!” He smirked up to you and you raised the fan above your head. “Why do you have a fan in your hand?” He asked pointing with his clawed finger at your fan. “Because of people that break into private homes, like you!” With a snap of his fingers the fan in your hand vanished into small sparkles. 

“Technically I didn’t break into your house.” The stranger said as he swung his cane around. You raised your eyebrow at him, “You obviously did.” What the hell is with those sinners.

He sighs in frustration and leans onto his cane, “Let me re-introduce myself. I’m Lucifer Morningstar. The devil you summoned.” His sharp red eyes focused on your e/c ones and his Pupils dilated a bit. The more you two looked in the eyes the hotter and thicker the tension got. 

“You’re Lucifer.” You fast to break the thick ice. You don’t want to focus about the growing desire for the Archangel in front of you. Lucifer smirk grew only more. You didn’t think this was even possible. “Yes, the one and only.” He winked and a shiver went down your spine.

“of course.” As the sin of pride, he’s doing a great job so far. 

“For what do you need me, darling?” Lucifer asked and you immediately asked him the question that is burning your mind. “I have Question my Lord.” Pink hue glazed Lucifer's face as you said my lord. “Ehm,” He grabbed his collar and pulled it with his claw, “Of course darling… We- I mean I have too much… No, fuck- I have a lot of time reserved for you! Hehehe.” Lucifers sudden overtalking caught you surprised. 

The King of hell, Lucifer Morningstar gets nervous when you call him My Lord. 

“Okay first my most Important question. How do I get in heaven? I don’t know what I have done in my life to end up here.” Lucifer raised sassy his eyebrow giving you a side eye. “Darling. You’re in hell and there is no ticket up. Believe me.” He tapped with his cane on the floor, “There’s no way.” He pressed again. 

But you don’t give up. 

“Then give me a meeting. I can prove that I’m innocent. I was a nun almost my whole life and I died saving someone’s life.” Lucifer’s laugh was ego scratching and you glared at him. “I could get you the meeting sweetheart, yet it wouldn’t change anything. But in exchange you have to do something for me."

“What?” You asked as Lucifer stepped in front of you, his face so close that it’s brushing your face. He breathed in and you smelled so divine. “only time will tell.” And just like that he disappeared. Confused you looked around. 

“That was weird…” 

A/n: I'm ALIVE!! Anyways Part 2 will be out soon<3

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich

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[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Six

The room felt hotter than it should have.

Maybe it was the heat coming off his body as he sat behind me, his chest pressed against my back. Or maybe it was the way his fingers trailed down my sides, agonisingly slow, like he had all the time in the world.

I told myself I could stop this. I ‘should’ stop this.

But when his lips brushed the back of my neck again—so soft at first, almost testing—I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. Instead, my eyes fluttered shut.

A low laugh vibrated against my skin.

“Look at you,” Jungkook murmured. “Already melting.”

I snapped my eyes open, heat crawling up my neck for an entirely different reason now.

He was watching me, his expression blank, unreadable—like I was just another game to him.

The heat in my stomach twisted into something sharper. I wanted to shove him off, to tell him to stop playing with me like I was some toy he could pick up and put down whenever he felt like it. But before I could say anything, he pushed me forward slightly, his fingers tugging at the edge of my leather jacket.

“Why are you—”

The question died on my lips as he slid it off my shoulders, his fingers brushing my bare skin.

A shiver ran down my spine. I hated how much I liked the way he touched me—like he owned me already.

The jacket hit the floor, forgotten, as Jungkook’s hands moved to my back.

For a moment, all I could feel was the heat of his palms tracing the ink that marked my skin—outlining the delicate flowers and the words that ran down my spine.

He leaned closer, his breath fanning against my ear.

“What’s the story?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The tattoo.” His fingers pressed gently against one of the flowers, tracing the petals. “What does it mean?”

I stiffened.

“That’s none of your business.”

Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and rumbling.

“Fair enough,” he said, but his hands didn’t stop moving.

Instead, he slipped his fingers lower, finding the waistband of my jeans.

I froze.

My heart jumped into my throat as he tugged at them, easing them down just enough to expose the rest of the quote inked into my skin.

He wasn’t taking them off. But it didn’t matter.

The feel of his fingers so close, the sound of his breathing so steady—it made my pulse race anyway.

But before I could find my voice, Jungkook’s lips pressed against my back. This time, he didn’t stop at my shoulder. He kissed lower, following the curve of my spine, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

I gripped the edge of the desk, my breathing quickening as his mouth lingered at the small of my back. He was testing me. And I was letting him.

“Relax,” he murmured against my skin, his lips brushing the words there like he was reading them.

But relaxing was impossible when his hands suddenly spread my legs, pushing me forward until I was flat against the desk.

My breath hitched.

The movement was so smooth, so practiced, that it made my head spin. He leaned back slightly, letting his eyes rake over me.

“I could get used to this view,” he said casually, like we weren’t standing in the middle of an office, like this wasn’t wildly inappropriate.

I clenched my jaw, trying to steady my breathing as my cheek pressed against the cold surface of the desk.

What the hell was he doing to me?

His hands returned to my back, softer this time, before his lips followed—kissing and sucking at my skin until I could feel the heat rising in patches.

I shifted slightly, but he just held me steady, his hands gripping my waist firmly as his mouth continued to leave invisible marks.

I hated that it felt good.

I hated how easy it was for him to make me lose focus—to make my body react even when my head was screaming at me to stop. When he finally pulled back, I felt cold without his touch.

“Get up,” he said.

I pushed myself off the desk shakily, my legs unsteady as he grabbed my arm and guided me toward the window.

The glass stretched from floor to ceiling, giving a perfect view of the city below—the cars, the people, the lights.

Jungkook stood behind me, his chest pressed to my back again as he leaned down to speak in my ear.

“You should get used to this view,” he said. “You’ll be seeing it a lot.”

And then, before I could react, his palm came down sharply against my ass.

I jumped, the sting making me whirl around to glare at him, but he was already walking toward the door.

“Meet me at my place tomorrow,” he said without looking back. “Three o’clock.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn’t even have his address, but before I could say anything, the door shut behind him.

I stood there for what felt like forever, staring at the empty space where he’d been, my thoughts racing. What the hell had just happened?

My fingers brushed my neck, the spot where his lips had lingered, and my stomach twisted. I’d let him touch me—And I didn’t even know why.

Maybe it was the heat of the moment. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at me, like he already knew I wouldn’t say no. Or maybe it was the way he made me feel—off-balance, out of control, and desperate to prove myself.

No, no way I thought to myself. It was because of the contract. Yes the contract what else could it be. He didn’t like me and I sure as hell didn’t like him. It was the contract that bound us together, nothing more nothing less. I did not like him. And nothing could change that.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The shrill buzz of my phone pulled me out of sleep. Groggily, I reached for it, squinting at the bright screen. It read **3:00 AM**.

My eyes dropped to the notification, ready to ignore the idiot who disturbed my sleep.

But to my dismay there was no name. Unknown was displayed on my screen, I furrowed my eyebrows wondering how the person had gotten my number and why they texted me at the devils hour of all times.

I hesitated before opening the message, what if it was a serial killer telling me they were watching me sleep or some shit. My mind was going crazy with all these ideas of who it could be. But it wasn’t until I finally looked down at the contents of the message that my imagination was shut down.

An address.

Suddenly wide awake, I bolted upright in bed, staring down at the text. It had to be Jungkook. As if to confirm my suspicion, three little dots appeared on the screen.

**Typing...**

My pulse quickened as another message popped up.

**Wear shorts.**

Yep it was definitely him. Who else would demand something out of the blue like that.

I frowned, rereading the words. Shorts? Why?

My stomach twisted, unease curling through me. It wasn’t the message itself that unsettled me—it was how easily Jungkook seemed to take control, how he expected me to obey without question.

Still, exhaustion outweighed my nerves, and I tossed the phone onto the bedside table, deciding I’d deal with him and his bullshit in the morning.

When my alarm finally pulled me from sleep, the unease was still there, buried beneath the tiredness. I went through my morning routine slowly, my thoughts circling back to Jungkook over and over again.

The way he’d touched me yesterday—how easily he’d pushed my boundaries and left me reeling. Would he do it again?

As I pulled open my closet, my eyes landed on a pair of black shorts, and my stomach dipped.

No.

Shaking my head, I grabbed a pair of comfy gray joggers instead. I was going to be working—sketching designs—not strutting around in something revealing just because Jungkook told me to.

I threw on a white top and a loose zip-up hoodie, curling my hair to give myself a boost of confidence. After making myself an iced latte, I stepped outside and into the bright afternoon sun, determined to focus on work and nothing else.

Pulling up to Jungkook’s house left me stunned.

Massive iron gates towered over me, guarded by men in dark suits who looked more like secret agents than security guards. I rolled down my window, nerves flaring as one of them approached.

“I’m Jungkook’s new designer,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “He told me to meet him today.” The guard gave me a once-over before speaking into his walkie-talkie. A long pause followed, then the gates whirred to life, swinging open.

I drove through slowly, my hands tightening on the steering wheel as I took in the property. It was enormous.

Dark stone walls lined the driveway, leading up to a house that looked more like a fortress—sleek, angular, and intimidating, just like its owner.

When I parked and stepped out, the sheer size of it made my chest tighten. It was like stepping into forbidden territory.

Before I could knock, the door creaked open slightly. But no one was there.

“Hello?” I called, stepping inside cautiously.

Silence.

My footsteps echoed as I wandered through the entryway, eyes wide. The walls were lined with trophies and photographs—snapshots of Jungkook holding championship cups, leaning against his race cars, and posing with women.

Everything about the space screamed luxury. Black marble floors, towering ceilings, and sleek, modern furniture. Dark colours dominated the decor, with deep gray walls and touches of matte gold in the fixtures and accents.

It felt cold. Controlled. But it also felt like him.

I wandered further in, passing leather couches and glass tables that looked too expensive to touch. My heart pounded as I made my way upstairs, looking for Jungkook.

Room after room, I peeked inside, but he was nowhere to be found—until I reached the last door on the third floor. I cracked it open, my breath catching as steam billowed out.

Music drifted through the air—low and moody. The room was massive, dominated by a king sized bed with dark sheets and black pillows. A balcony stretched along one wall, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, while the opposite side held a desk covered in jewellery and cigarettes.

But what caught my attention was the photograph sitting on the desk. A woman with a soft smile and warm eyes, holding a little boy in her arms. My fingers brushed the frame, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you done snooping?”

The deep voice jolted me.

I spun around, my eyes going wide.

Jungkook stood in the doorway, dripping with water, a towel slung loosely around his waist. His hair was damp, strands falling into his eyes as he pushed them back.

“I—I wasn’t—”

I stepped away from the desk, cheeks burning.

“I couldn’t find you,” I stammered. “I was looking—”

“Save it.”

He crossed the room, grabbing the photo and shoving it into a drawer.

Before I could even process the move, he was in front of me—close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“Wait downstairs,” he said, voice low and firm. “I’ll be down soon.”

I nodded quickly, stepping around him and out the door, my heart hammering.

The living room felt even bigger now that I was alone. I busied myself setting up my sketches, spreading them out neatly across the table and forcing myself to focus.

But my mind kept drifting back to the photo—and the way Jungkook had hidden it so quickly.

Who was the woman?

My thoughts scattered as Jungkook dropped onto the couch beside me. A bit too close for comfort as our legs touched, practically transferring his body heat to me.

I froze, my pulse spiking as his scent—fresh soap and something darker—wrapped around me.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, leaning back casually like he hadn’t just walked up to me half-naked minutes ago. I swallowed hard, pushing the designs toward him.

“These are the concepts I started with,” I explained, pointing to each one. “I wanted to emphasize aerodynamics while keeping the body sleek and aggressive—”

Jungkook leaned in closer, his eyes flicking over the sketches.

“Not bad,” he said finally. “But I want more edge.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

“More edge?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved into a smirk. “Show me something that makes people stop and stare.”

My stomach flipped.

But then Jungkook’s gaze drifted downward, landing on my legs. His eyes darkened slightly as his brows furrowed. Slowly, he looked back up at me, sharp and scrutinising.

“Where are your shorts?”

My heart skipped.

“I—” I started, my voice faltering under his stare. “It was too cold.” I sat up straighter, trying to steady myself. “And shorts wouldn’t have been comfortable for sketching. I didn’t want it affecting my designs.”

I swallowed, willing my voice to sound more confident than I felt. Jungkook leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “Take them off.”

“What?” My body jolted at his words, heat rushing to my cheeks as if he’d just dumped a bucket of ice down my spine.

His head tilted. “I said take them off.” His tone was calm—too calm, like he didn’t understand why I was even questioning him.

I stared at him, stunned into silence. My heart pounded so loudly it echoed in my ears, but I forced myself to breathe. What was I so afraid of? It was just skin.

I straightened my shoulders, reminding myself I had nothing to be ashamed of—nothing to hide. If Jungkook thought he could intimidate me, he was wrong.

So what if I had to sit next to him in just my underwear? My shirt was long enough to cover me, and I wasn’t going to let him think I was scared. Without another word, I pushed myself to my feet, hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my joggers, and slid them down my legs.

I folded them neatly, placing them beside me on the couch before sitting back down.

Jungkook’s eyes were on me the entire time, dark and heavy. I felt the heat of his stare burn into my skin, lingering far too long on my thighs.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, without warning, his hands gripped my hips, and he dragged me onto his lap.

I gasped as my legs shifted over his thighs, his body warm and solid beneath me.

My breath hitched further when he reached down, gently tugging my shirt higher so his hands could rest comfortably against the bare skin of my thighs.

“What are you doing?” I blurted, my voice high and shaky. “Why is this necessary?”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk.

“Let’s see how well you can focus,” he said. “Tell me about your new ideas—the ones you said would fit my taste.”

I hesitated, trying to gather my thoughts, but it was impossible to ignore the way his thumbs were brushing slow, deliberate patterns over my skin.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to speak.

“I—I was thinking more sharp angles, longer lines,” I began, my words trembling as his hands kneaded into my flesh. “Something that emphasises speed without losing—”

A gasp escaped me as his fingers trailed higher, grazing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of my shirt. I snapped my mouth shut, my chest heaving.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asked, his voice low and smooth.

“Why are you doing that?”

His smirk deepened. “This would’ve been easier for you if you’d just listened and worn shorts.”

I bit my lip, heat rushing through me.

I hated that he was right. I hated that I was hot and flustered, sitting in his lap in just my underwear. But more than anything, I hated that I couldn’t focus. Why didn’t I just wear the damn shorts.

“Keep going,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

I straightened, trying to clear my head.

“What do you want to see in the designs?” I asked, my voice steadier this time.

Jungkook’s hands didn’t stop moving, but he answered easily, rattling off features he liked—sleek headlights, aggressive hoods, bold details that demanded attention.

I wrote his words down carefully, trying to keep my breathing even as his fingers slid higher, brushing dangerously close to the tops of my thighs. My pulse spiked when his hands shifted, slipping under my shirt and brushing against my stomach.

I tensed as his fingers grazed my belly button, pausing when they touched the small metal ring of my piercing. Jungkook leaned in, resting his chin lightly on my shoulder.

“What other piercings do you have?” he murmured.

I ignored the question, fighting the heat that crept up my neck.

Instead, I pushed forward, asking more about his preferences in the designs, forcing him to keep talking. His hands didn’t stop, though.

They slid up and down my stomach, inching higher each time, pushing my focus to the edge of breaking.

But then, just as suddenly as he’d started, he stopped.

“Well done,” he said.

“What?” My head snapped toward him, completely thrown off.

“You did a good job staying focused.”

I blinked, struggling to catch up.

“I’m serious about my job,” I said, breathless. “I want to do the best I can.”

Jungkook didn’t respond.

He just looked at me—intently, like he was searching for something. Before I could figure out what, he leaned in, his nose brushing softly against my neck.

I froze, barely breathing as he shifted, his lips hovering near my ear.

“That’s it for today,” he whispered. “I have plans.”

And just like that, he stood, lifting me off his lap and setting me back down on the couch as if nothing had happened.

“Same time tomorrow,” he said, already walking toward the stairs.

I sat there, stunned, as his footsteps disappeared. Then, snapping out of it, I hurried to pack up my things, pulling my joggers back on and bolting out of the house.

By the time I reached my car, my thoughts were spiraling. What had just happened?

Why had I let him touch me like that again?

I gripped the steering wheel, forcing myself to focus. “Snap out of it,” I muttered, starting the engine.

But even as I drove home, his voice lingered in my head—low and teasing, like he already knew I’d be thinking about him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was unlocking my apartment door when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned sharply, my heart leaping. It was Damian.

“How was your day?” he asked, stepping closer, a smile plastering his face.

“It was… great,” I lied, forcing a smile. He didn’t need to know that my new boss was actually a pervert whose life goal is to make my life as miserable as possible.

His eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah, I forgot to ask who did you boss turn out to be?”

“Jungkook.”

Damian’s face darkened instantly.

“Jungkook?” he repeated, his voice sharp.

I nodded, taken aback by the change in his tone. But what shocked me more were his actions that followed. Without another word, he turned and walked into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

I stood there, completely thrown off.

What was that about?

I stepped inside my own place, locking the door behind me as unease crept over me.

Damian’s reaction. Jungkook’s behavior.

What had I really gotten myself into?

Next

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, iv. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook)

genre: angst, heart-wrenching fluff

word count: 6.5k

summary: everything that hurts must begin to stop at one point. 

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: DOMESTIC ABUSE, oc gets triggered a lot in this chapter, dissociation, anxiety, alcohol consumption, a brief mention of physical violence, religion, praying, jk and oc smoke together.

note: hi, my babies. i'm here with another chapter. i really like this chapter a lot and i like where it's heading, so i hope you like it as much as you do. let me know what yout think. sorry, this is a bit short, but i didn't want to drag it out, esp. if everything that needed to get settled did. i love you all soso much, mwah.

When Jungkook appears, uncanvassed, damp and abysmal, in the field of my swimming vision, I have to stop dead in my tracks to see if my inebriated brain isn’t playing tricks on me. 

He’s sat on the half-wet stone of the staircase leading up to the street where I live. My apartment complex is just straight up, a minute away from where he’s waiting for me, and the wheels within my brain cells begin to whirr and turn, reminding me that I tapped on the crescent moon icon on my phone before I absconded to my girl best friend for a heart-to-heart conversation and a new set of nails. Misty-eyed, I recounted to her the monochrome poetry lines that bloomed through last night between me and Yoongi and wilted in my bare, sleep-cloaked hands this morning while she filed down the freshly baked acrylic powder. The moment she heard the deadly words that were spat at me, she flung her rosy, tiger-print file across her station, got up to her feet without a word and came back with a bottle of my favorite pink nectar in even pinker, fancy glass, certainly not meant for wine. 

And I downed each and every refill in one, singular gulp everytime she moved onto the next step and my hand was free. 

And Miyun… as much as she erupted in her idiosyncratic rage, her work on my nails was immaculate and untouched by her vivid lava. Curses and funny remarks, that yanked the weight off my shoulders and wiped it out using her vigor and red-hot magma, shattered the room until I laughed so hard that the alcohol dipped into my system far quicker than usual. She glued on the crosses I had asked for while I chortled, and she shushed me, breaking into a soft, non-obvious laughter that she tried to keep at bay while her hair fanned around her. Cherry-red, long and lustrous, curling on the smooth skin of her arms. The laughter died down and silence replaced it as she laid down the last layer of top coat over her artwork—and I felt a certain inspiration seize me. 

“What if I dyed my hair red, too?” I voiced it out, a seawave of different kinds of co-existing emotions ebbing and flowing in me. Airiness and offense, care and distance. And they were all roped around the memory of Yoongi in me like the roots of flowers in a colorful meadow soil. Vast and expansive, yet delicate and frail. One sweep of the wind’s harsh breath and they tilt—and remain tilted. 

I do, too, despite my efforts. 

Despite my ingrained fight to straighten and my strivings to be unaffected, unagitated and undisturbed by the way I was disrespected by Yoongi. They were all fruitless, however. Barren of my long-exercised resilience against the violence of men, my wariness and vigilance of them only strengthening. 

He took me to the far north side of paradise with his tongue and fingers in the middle of the night. And when the sun rose, he treated me like I dragged him to the deepest of hell and left him there to perish of starvation and thirst.

I should have seen it coming and prepared myself for it, especially when I had decided in my heart to take care of him, take care of the deep-sunk, nameless agony in him that prevented him from coloring our stanzas. But alas… it came to face me too soon, in my gossamer defenselessness.

Yoongi metamorphosed into the vermin that Ji-hoon was. His face faded on top of his while my ex-boyfriend’s body remained intact, broad and fear-instilling. And when Yoongi stood up so quickly, I sailed back, against my will, to the sheer realm of brutality that I had dwelled in, years ago. Yoongi with Ji-hoon’s body, abandoning me after I got myself into trouble. For wearing too much make-up, for having long manicured nails, for dressing a certain way that was impertinent in our relationship. He would leave a bruise for every mistake I made to discipline me, to ascertain that I would learn from it and never do it again. And I did learn after I was depleted of color-correcting concealers, the sinews I would use to raise my hands and tap the cream product in, erasing my foolish mistakes from the eyes of Jungkook, Minyun and my parents. 

I fought for too long during the relationship. For my freedom, for my dignity. And I fought for too long after the relationship to go through it all over again. 

I dreaded being hit when Yoongi stood up from my couch. Flinched when he went around the coffee table past me because I anticipated the swing of his arm with my eyes boring holes into my carpet. I had flexed my muscles to brace myself against the incoming physical pain so hard that I nearly gasped, pathetically, for air when he walked on into the corridor. 

But I still couldn’t look at him. 

Although I knew, rationally, that Ji-hoon wasn’t present, I didn’t let up until he shut the door behind me with a soft click because my body didn’t connect to my clear-headedness. It was caught in a fight or flight response like an ensnared bird. 

And this must’ve been what Minyun was seeing when she contemplated me, paused in the middle of dusting her station clean with her pale-pink kabuki brush. Because she resumed right after once I reciprocated her gaze and curled her lips under her teeth. 

“We can go to Olive Young then, and stop by 7-Eleven after to get some snacks and drinks.” 

She reflected on my wound and didn’t hesitate to cradle my head and bring me to a safe refuge. 

And I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and hug her until all those oxymoronic emotions, which I felt towards Yoongi, dulled in the smallness of me. 

I let her take the lead. Choose the vibrant, deep cherry tint that would annul my trigger and dye me anew. I sipped on my iced cherry drink for the occasion while she glided the brush along my strands, splattering most of the orange paste on the thick wisp of the symbol of my connection with Jungkook, the only man in my life who never used his manliness against me. I thought about him as she rubbed it in; and I thought about Grookey. Thought about how, in that very moment, I was saying goodbye to the self I possessed while being attached to them. 

And when Minyun washed my hair and curled her round brush through it, the stark contrast to who I was before overwhelmed me so much that I began to weep. 

I couldn’t recognize myself, I didn’t know who that girl in the mirror was. But something told me that she was stronger than who I used to be. And while it felt petrifying to be standing alone in the crook of my past self and my current self, the longer I gaped at myself, the more I adapted to the assurance that she was emanating. 

She wasn’t going to take any shit from any man ever again. Certainly not with darkly, sequoia-kissed hair like that.

Minyun brushed her thumbs under my eyes and shifted me deeper into the refuge by grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to her balcony, where she sat me down on her chair while she crouched in front of me. Sliding a tiny cigarette into her IQOS and taking a puff, she leaned over to the square table and grabbed her pack, nudging a longer, classic cigarette between my chapped lips. 

I never smoked on my own. I would take hits from her slender, pink case of flavored air or steal her cigarettes when I had enough buzz from the alcohol in my veins. Forget about it the following days and weeks that we wouldn’t see each other because I was such a hermit. But I didn’t want to be one anymore—I wanted to spend more time with her from now on. With Jungkook, too. 

“You look so pretty with your new hair,” Minyun said, sweetly, leaning back on her sock-clad heels in her Louis Vuitton slides, wrapping her arm around her knees like I did around my chest last night, and I inhaled her compliment along with the drag of her cigarette. “We’re twins now.” 

I had become such a fragile egg shell that her words multiplied in me as they settled in my lungs, bursting and imbuing me with pigments of confidence. And I beamed through my tears, a light protruding through clouds, as I exhaled the smoke. 

It felt as natural as breathing—to claim her cigarettes and make them a thing of my own. 

In place of Grookey. 

It’s what Jungkook spots first, instead of my hair, once he senses my presence and lifts his head, standing up to his feet, towering over me. And he must’ve been waiting for a long time because his scolding words are flung out first before anything else.

“Where have you been? Do you know how scared I was? I called you up. I rang your doorbell and you wouldn’t answer. All day.” 

I take a long drag just to stabilize myself, gratitude unfolding in my sternum for the way he isn’t manly. 

He’s merely caring. 

Hovering above me, moving his arms in my proximity, features stern in his soft manner, and yet I’m not threatened by my fear because I know him, because I trust him. Trust that everything about him is securely soft and boy-like, round and endearing—even when he raises his voice a little at me. 

Minjun and I took another bottle of rosé to her balcony that we finished by passing it to each other and smoking like there was no tomorrow, so the liters of the nectar that flit in my bloodstream elevate how I see him and my body is naturally inclined to do something I normally wouldn’t do. 

And much to Jungkook’s surprise and a little bit to his dismay, I listen to that hushed tone of my heart and obey it—discovering that it is an aid and nothing else. 

“Since when do you—” 

I silence his stupid, yet valid question by wrapping my arms around his neck, careful not to nip his skin with the hot prickle of the cigarette. Its orange tip envelops us in a soft glow in the middle of the darkening evening, the smoke surrounding us like a protection ring. It takes three beats of my heart—which in reality must be his and surely not mine considering the numbness that has descended, fully, in me—for his arms to move and swathe me in complete safety. 

He’s rescuing me, like Minyun did. Bouncing off of her and finishing the job, without knowing a thing about it. 

We become one, singular form of a penumbra, dressed as we are in this unlit shade. Jungkook with his cargos and baggy sweatshirt; me with my tracksuit that’s too big for me. His neck is cold and I scatter a little bit of my warmth upon that skin, regretful that he waited for me this long because of my foolish forgetfulness. 

My dearest boy best friend. 

I squeeze him harder and Jungkook buries his nose in my shoulder, fisting the fabric of my hoodie on my back. 

And then, he sniffs my hair. Makes a Korean sound of discovery and surprise. Pulls back just to look at me with narrowed, inspecting eyes. Drags me to the nearest street lamp—and I watch his eyelids grow to their original, bulbous size. 

Roundie. 

He has noticed my hair, at last. 

Fluffs it and completely destroys the impeccable blowout that Minyun gave me. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” I grumble, pushing his hand away, but, like my hoodie, he fists both of my wrists in one hand and sinks the other one into my length, following the diligent curve that Minyun created. 

I huff, and the sound is deadened by the devastating words he utters, disappearing into the prickling coldness of the air. 

“What did he say to you that made you do this?”

I dwell in silence, my numbed emotions leaden, dented and yet sharp enough that I feel their resurfacing pain. 

I look away, untangling my wrists from his hold. Jungkook unclenches his fist, but the ash from my cigarette lands on the back of his hand. I gasp, quick to brush it away, however he’s quicker. Doesn’t make a sound in response. Shakes his hand and steals my cigarette, puffing on it. 

My mouth parts. Shock strangles me. 

He smokes? 

Jungkook’s seriousness droops as he chuckles, dryly, at my reaction. He takes a step back, slides a hand in the pocket of his pants, coalesces into the shadows of the early blooming night. 

“I didn’t know you smoked either,” he says, smiling in that lopsided way of his, a large dent in his cheek. And it feels as though I’m getting to know my best friend for the first time. What else is he hiding? What does he do, in utmost normalcy, when he’s not with me? 

He dips his chin to look at the cigarette before he flicks his thumb across its ivory butt. The ashy particles fly to the rocky ground in tandem with his smile. And his mind travels back to this morning’s misfortune, as rapid as a rocket shooting up beyond the clouds. 

“I’m not giving this to you until you tell me what he said. The last time you did something to your hair like this was when you left that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.” 

A fleck of memory appears before my eyes. Me dousing my hair in black dye with my own hands while Jungkook stood by; him putting my star clips in my no longer virgin strands to distract my tears, me sliding the same ones into his, making a middle part and laughing until my stomach hurt. He had healed me by just being with me, not expecting words, not expecting any explanations. 

Him asking me for them has a great meaning, a certain hastiness that I know full well has a stabbing pain, and I feel his fear, instead of mine. Understand, all of a sudden, why he waited for so long.

And I put him first, just so that emotion unclenches its fist from him. Nod my head to let him know that I’ll tell him, bare my heart for him. 

I walk backwards and sit down on the stony stairs. Jungkook joins me, right beside me. Takes a long drag of the cigarette as if to prepare himself for what I’m about to share with him—and I need the same smoky courage. I take it from him, puff on it and give it back to him. He gives me a gentle smile and I recognize the reason behind it.

A new form of bonding settles between us. 

I reciprocate the smile and gather my words in the brief silence. The wind helps me as it breezes through my hair, fondles my face ever so gently and when I lift my chin at its attention, my eyes stumble across the full moon. 

I breathe in its pristine energy. Let my lungs be full of its beams—and let it cleanse me, thoroughly. 

Jungkook’s patience helps me, too, as he quietly finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the step. Ready to listen. 

And so I begin. 

“I invited him upstairs because I wanted to,” I start and realize that I have to come forth with the truth. Deem that he deserves to know. I look inward, quickly, and try to detect any obstacles in me—but I find myself empty, cleansed, a dried fountain with no drops of water, yet I am free. With the alcohol still trickling in my bloodstream. “I didn’t feel sick. That was a lie.” I flick my eyes to his reaction, catch him widening his eyes and parting his mouth and I decide it’s time for another cigarette. I pull one for him and myself, lighting it up for the both of us. “I didn’t want you to know that I got triggered. I’m sorry for that.” 

Jungkook blows the smoke in the other direction, away from my face. He furrows his brows in pity as he leans his elbows on his outstretched knees. 

I expect him to yell at me… but he does the exact opposite, soothing me down to the marrow of my bone. 

“Triggered? How?” he asks, his voice so muted that I barely hear it, lips pursed in that eternal pout of his and mine mirror it, naturally. I appreciate his gentleness so much that I lean the side of my head against his shoulder. And he leans his against the top of mine. 

“I guess I wanted to be alone when I left the room and I found Hobi at the end of the hall. I sat with him for a little while and when he started talking, I realized he was drunk and my body gave up on me. I dissociated like I used to after the breakup. I thought I was better, that I healed from it, but it’s been a long since I was in the company of men, you know? I didn’t want to disappoint you, especially when I’d promised you that it wasn’t happening to me anymore.” 

I hear him take a strong puff and I reflect him, doing the same. Then, he sighs and extends his legs, his back rounding forward. I watch the smoke make patterns in the night-tinged air and I breathe differently, now that I’ve pulled the skeleton out of the closet. And even though my emotions are numb, my softness deepens when Jungkook takes the bony creature into his arms and begins to dance with it. 

“You could never disappoint me,” he whispers, his words the music for the dance, and I wrap my fingers around his clothed forearm, just holding him there, needing it. “You should’ve told me. Did you think I would tell you off for it? Of course not, you silly goose.” 

I chortle, and the smoke comes out in staccatos that are guided by my tender laughter. And he melts it with his following words. 

“How can I help you? Should I get you a therapist? I don’t want you to take meds for it…” he trails off, clicking his tongue and fishing out his phone from his pocket. His fingers move on the keyboard of his screen and the letters I read fracture my heart and glue it back together all the same. “Grounding techniques. Breathing slowly while counting. Different sounds, walking barefoot, blanket, ice cube or cold water—”

My mouth opens before my brain registers what my weakened heart longs to say. 

“Yoongi splashed cold water on my face and neck and that brought me back,” I spew out, tiny tears lining my vision at the memory, at the feel of his cold, solid hands, at the sight of his wide, fearful eyes that relaxed when he realized that I was back in the present times. “He saved me.” 

I blink them away; I smoke them away. 

Jungkook sucks in a breath, clicking on an article about dissociation and scrolling down. “Yoongi and I will be your therapists, then. For free.” 

I look away and withdraw from him, twiddling with my fingers. My heart enlarges, yearns for it—yearns to create a link to his beyond the physical bound we have, reach out for him like a child for its father, but my fear of being triggered again, of being afflicted by his pain slaps its arms away from him. 

It’s not meant to be—Yoongi is not the one for me because if he were, there wouldn’t be any barrier between us. And with that knowledge, my obsession with him, slowly and painfully, dissipates, leaving my frailty and my willingness to help him, if he’d ever need me, in the hands of God. 

But knowing the faces of manliness and ego, Yoongi won’t allow himself to be helped by me. And that bruises me more than the words he flung at me.  

Jungkook senses my absence more vividly than I want him to, and his head swivels in my direction, the article momentarily forgotten. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, prodding me, and it’s me who sighs this time. 

I take the last drag and gaze at the moon as I speak. “Yoongi can’t help me when he needs help himself.” 

The yellowish face of the bulbous planet nods at me and I feel, ever so slightly, at ease, leaning my elbows back on the steps. That is until a lump forms in my throat and, inertly, I ask the feminine luna for her strength, for her resilience, and I ask her to help me become my new self that resembles her so much. 

Jungkook locks his phone and stares at me. “What happened this morning?” 

And perhaps she does nurture me with what I need through her radiance after all because I don’t hesitate to tell him. 

“I wore lingerie to bed that was see-through and when I looked for him and found him crying on my couch, he told me, ‘can you, please, put something fucking on?’ and left,” I unravel, violently, mimicking Yoongi’s coarse morning voice, and Jungkook scoffs, averting his gaze. He sucks hard on the last of his cigarette before throwing it away with the same nerve, shaking his head as he thinks about those poisonous words. Validates me, like Minyun did. 

It takes several heartbeats and several more moonbeams puncturing my sternum before he turns back to me. 

“Check your phone.” 

A wrinkle between my brows. “Why?” 

“Just do it.” 

Without understanding why he wants me to do that, I comply. I pull out my phone from my purse, the light from the screen bathing me in stark blue. Jungkook chews on his bottom lip as he watches me read my notifications from him, Minyun and Netflix. And when I say nothing, he tilts his head and reads them on his own, only to groan and place it in his hands. 

Then, he stares off into the distance. 

“What?”

He takes my hand and drags me to my feet. “Come on.” 

I yelp and Jungkook yanks me to the patch of grass by the street lamp, kneeling by the gravel. And I can’t speak as he builds a praying altar of rocks, leaves and sticks. I can’t speak when he holds it in place and makes sure it doesn’t collapse, as small and sturdy as it is. And I can’t speak when he adorns it with an abandoned, pink flower petal that he finds nearby. Places it on the top of the last stone, against the flesh of the damp, green leaf that is propped by a petite rock. 

And in my silence, once he’s done, he tugs my hand down, sinking me to my knees. Sits back on his folded legs and presses his palms together. 

“God, I know that you know I don’t believe in you. My dad probably talks to you a lot about me, so I’m sure you know who I am. I don’t come to you because of me, though. I come to you right now because my friends need you,” Jungkook prays, his voice mellow and subdued, meant for my ears and the ears of God that I myself believe in, but don’t have a relationship with. I settle down into my respect for his bravery and kindness, closing my eyes, and I feel him enveloping his fingers around mine on my lap. My heart thumps and my other hand finds the way to it—I pin my palm to the left side of my chest, cradling those full-blooded strikes, willing the corners of my mouth not to quiver. “My dad says you know everything and right now I really hope that you know what Yoongi went through. I ask you, sincerely, to give him strength to be a better person. To make sure his feet don’t walk backwards but forward with the girl beside me. I also ask you to help her to not dissociate anymore, help her not remember that son of a bitch, sorry—that guy that broke her. And altogether, I ask you to heal them both. Also, make sure Yoongi mans up a little and texts her like I wanted. Or just do something, anything. Give him ideas. Make his balls grow or whatever. Thank you. Sorry for all I did. Amen.” 

The tears fall and I can’t halt them, nor do I want to. Lightness floods my chest, my mind, spreads all over my bones, and I breathe out in hiccups. I agree with his prayer by whispering the same ending word and when I glance at Jungkook, I see him meditating, privately, on something on his own. 

It inspires me, comforts me and impassions me to do the same. 

I flutter my eyes closed and quieten my breathing. 

Dear God, if I was wrong and this is for me, allow me to take care of Yoongi. Help us find a way towards each other and cleanse my heart from all the pain. 

And then the words spill, my prayer prolonging, and I discern that they don’t root from me, bathed in the glimmer of the moon as they are. 

I forgive him and I’m giving him another chance. Give us the opportunity to better our actions and communicate our pains. Give us the strength to do so. Give us the words. Give us peace of mind and clarity. Thank you. Amen. 

My tears have dried by the time I’m finished with my internal prayer. Jungkook has patiently waited the whole time, holding my hand, and he gives me the lovingest, most wholesome smile I’ve ever received in my life when I face him. He kisses my knuckles and I feel, strongly, that it seals our prayers. 

Helping me stand, it’s him who hugs me this time around. I bury my face in his chest, fisting the back of his sweatshirt like he did to me when I arrived. We remain like this, underneath the lenitive moonlight and the merciful eye of God that I sense upon us. And I know, in the abyss of my weakened heart, that I shall never forget about this moment. 

“Did you also feel that lightness in your chest?” Jungkook asks onto my hair, and I nod, too lost in my brimming, alive emotions—no longer numb, but erupting in tender colors—to answer. Love, thankfulness, delicate joy and that persisting lightness. 

Grabbing my shoulders, he breaks the hug and grins down at me. He glows underneath that street lamp, a pure whiteness lining his form, the tiny twinkling freckles of stars scattering upon his skin and I love him. 

I love my best friend. 

And the more I look at him, the more I’m reminded of the way I put the star clips in his hair and I think it would only be right if he were to wear them right now. 

I link my arm around his. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

The moonlight shone upon our way, ascertaining that we didn’t stumble. Reached a standstill and formed a ring around us when we stopped by the door to my apartment building and had another cigarette together, this time another shared one because I felt as though I had inhaled too much smoke throughout the day. 

The stars poked at my back in our silence, encouraging me to break it, and I did—once it was my turn to puff. I thanked him, earnestly, for the prayer, showed him my nails embellished with little silver crosses, ones he gaped at with utmost fascination before it all spurred something in him enough for him to share with me what went down earlier in the morning after Yoongi left my apartment. 

Crestfallen Yoongi, drenched from the rain, murky, cloud-bearing; the very one I know. Jungkook had to, essentially, extricate him from the force of his innermost downpour, and I waded through the torrent with each information he provided me. 

He was profoundly regretful and made a fool out of himself by choking at the sound of my name—something that made my cheeks ignite with coy flattery and my fingertips to tingle. The knowledge that he rued his actions wove through my prayer and quelled me, my heart and my mind, until there was no ounce of ache that bothered me. 

I entered a state of sobriety, plopping down onto my couch with a small basket of hair ties and clips. Jungkook wasn’t really cognizant of what I was doing as he focused on telling the story, describing, in his teasing manner, the way Yoongi looked like while he spoke of me. The way his cheeks flushed and light burst in his eyes. He was so preoccupied with the task that he didn’t flinch when I brushed his hair with my Kuromi tangle teezer, nor when I put up his hair in two pigtail buns and secured them with matching, violet Kuromi hair ties. 

His hair felt brittle in my fingers from all the bleach the stylist used on his hair. Briefly, I remembered the way he specifically asked her if there was a drugstore alternative to the professional dye and he went to buy it for me that very day and we splattered it on together, with him choosing the strand, of course. I made a mental note to talk about his hair with him later. 

I grew hot when he shifted to the part, where he read to him the message I sent for him. I had cleaned the whole apartment in effort to rid myself of the residue of my trigger, but my care for him remained because I understood where he came from. What I hadn’t known was that after listening to my heart and typing out the message, I would get tormented by my mind so viciously that I had to seek my girl best friend. My care for him sank to the bottom of me and the offense I felt resurfaced, swallowing me whole. 

To know, in the present time, that Yoongi thought it too good to be true, grew smaller when Jungkook began to tell him off, washes it all out and I am a brand new canvas. 

I take off my hoodie, aflame. 

“He really thought about what I said to him and he even put your number in his phone. I visibly saw him opening a new text message and typing something,” Jungkook says, exasperated, and I have to chuckle to myself—he looks so damn adorable with the two minty buns, but he’s still missing those clips. I search for them in my basket, reveling in that fire of his, which his words are permeated with, the heat stifling me. “I thought he sent it to you. I didn’t see him do it because I got a call from Namjoon, asking where we were. We had a meeting right after—and that’s also something I need to talk to you about.” 

My ears perk up and I freeze with the clips in my hands. 

The smile Jungkook gives me this time is cheerless. 

The sweat that coats me morphs into a layer of iciness. 

“We’re going on tour abroad next month,” he imparts and my heart closes. I disintegrate, the clips falling out of my hands. And the stars blanketing the heavens outside must do the same, plummeting to the ground, conjointly, with me. “We were supposed to have another concert tonight, a secret one that would be made into a docuseries, but then America fucking called.” 

That means no hanging out with Jungkook, no star clips; no seeing Yoongi and leaving things as they are—unfinished and still aching on his part. 

And that leaves me alone with my thoughts. 

I pout, my heart dead silent. 

“When will you be back?” 

Jungkook gathers the fallen clips and sets them down upon my open, vulnerable palms. Manages to warm them up in that brief exchange. 

“There aren’t many tour dates. I’ll be back before—”

My phone pings in the kitchen. 

And before I can breathe, Jungkook scurries to his feet and flees. 

Grabs my phone and holds it in front of my face, so the detector can unlock what the notification hides. And once it does and his eyes sweep over the lettering multiple times, he squeals. Springs. Beams like the warmest star he is, personified firelight. And I’m more happy that he’s happy than I’m happy about the fact Yoongi has done something. 

For me. 

Jungkook slides the phone into my clammy hand and I let out a little breath. Instagram has notified me that a certain person that goes by the name agustd liked my post. I smirk, cupping my face, while I click on the notification to see what exactly he liked. Jungkook sits beside me and looks over, laughing, vehemently, through his nose before he starts clapping. 

My stomach jumps, stirring my butterflies awake. 

I’m wearing a knitted set in the picture, nearly pellucid with how stretched out and purposefully ripped the fabric is, and I’m sat on my vanity table in my room with my arched back facing the mirror, my long black hair obscuring most of the sheerness of my spine. 

Is that a truce? Liking a picture where I’m wearing something so akin to the slip that broke us this morning? If he did, then that’s an intelligent move in the chessboard of all toxicity. 

And I like it. 

I blush, profusely. But then another notification rings through my living room and Jungkook stills beside me. We share a look, both of our mouths parted, before he steals my phone, though I slap his back and retrieve it from his grasp, the shifting causing the message to get opened. 

I run a hand down my face. “You clicked on it and now he can see I’ve read it, Jungkook.” 

He merely laughs. “So what? Read it.” 

I groan, tipping my chin, focusing my gaze on the letters, and my heart thrashes in my ribcage. And their meaning propels it to fly on the wings of my butterflies. 

The letters tremble in tandem with my hand as I read them. 

“I’m sorry for my behavior this morning, you didn’t deserve that. I hope you allow me to make it up to you as best as I can. Car drive tomorrow at 8 PM? Food’s on me, you just bring your playlist, moon kitty. And your sneakers. Yoongi. Jungkook gave me your number.” 

My heart stops mid-flight. And I don’t see Jungkook’s eyes abounding in the glow of the stars. Neither do I hear his laughter and his praises for Yoongi because I walk backwards into myself. 

Bring your sneakers. 

I see myself getting hit for wearing heels. I don’t feel the pain, but I have a glimpse of the bruise forming on my cheek, a patch of red and purple staining me for weeks only because I wanted to feel pretty and feminine on our date night. And before Jungkook’s voice can get to me, the echo of Ji-hoon’s command fans out in me. 

You won’t dress like a slut when you’re with me. Take them off. That dress, too. And wear your sneakers. 

I was forced to wear jeans and Nike’s to a fancy restaurant while he sported nice pants and a polo. And much to his dismay, and later to mine as well, I still received stares and smiles. From men and women alike. 

The memory splinters at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. And I perceive that it’s just that. 

A memory. 

I didn’t dissociate. 

And vulnerability clutches me so tightly that I shrivel and don’t think before I fold myself into Jungkook, hugging him until the memory completely evaporates. 

Jungkook pets my head as I bury it deeper into his chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just a memory,” I heave, blinking rapidly, and Jungkook holds me to him, sifting his fingers through my hair. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, continuing with the movement that intersperses mollification all over my being, and I nod. 

As long as I have my best friend, I will be okay. 

“It happened this morning, too,” I admit, unafraid, and Jungkook stills for a moment. “When Yoongi got up from this couch, I thought I was gonna get hit again. And now when I read that he wants me to wear sneakers, I remembered the way Ji-hoon hit me because I wore heels that one time. But it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t dissociate. Your prayer helped.” 

Jungkook curls around me and holds me tighter, putting me back together, and I let him. 

I let him because there’s nothing else for me to do. 

There’s no one else for me. 

“He’s not here anymore. He’s not in your life. I broke his leg, remember? He can’t walk back into your life.” 

It’s the only memory, where he’s present, that brings me pleasure: Jungkook finding out I was a victim of domestic abuse and chasing him all over the city until he yanked him by the back of his shirt and beat him until he was unrecognizable. He broke his leg by purposefully driving over it with his motorcycle upon leaving, considering the deed done. 

“Every time your bad memories come back to haunt you, remember this one,” Jungkook advises and I pleat his words, stuffing them somewhere inside my sternum, where I can return to them and remember them like he said. Use them as a weapon.

Something tells me that now I shall need it more than I ever have before.

“Yoongi isn’t like him, I promise,” he continues, seeping his boyish warmth into my skin as he cups my face and makes me look at him. I feel as though I have run a marathon with the way I breathe spasmodically and Jungkook sees me, composes me by leading me to take deep breaths that subdue my nerves. “I regretted letting him take you home but for a far different reason. Underneath all that pain is a good person. A romantic that has lost his hope, but if there’s anything I can depend on, it’s the fact that Yoongi will find what he’s lost. And he’s halfway there. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have texted you.” 

I ponder his words, my heart collecting all those stars that have plummeted from the heavens, and, internally, I use their light to help me comprehend the deeper meaning behind his words. A romantic that has lost his hope. I wonder what meadow of agony he walked through—and I wonder how much it would devastate me if I ever were permitted to place my bare feet upon his footprints on that flowery soil. 

“You can trust him because I trust him.”

I slide the star clips beneath the space buns I twisted his hair in and I nod. 

“Let’s text him back.” 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist | READ third part

[lenaleviosa]

You died & arrive in the underworld. Hades is waiting for you there, but that’s not what surprises you.

“What is this?” you ask, “wasn’t the underworld supposed to be dark & scary?”

Hades smiles. “It was once, but Persephone has her fun with it now. On earth it’s winter, but here we’re in the middle of summer.”

It’s beautiful. There’s flowers everywhere, the water from the river Styx is streaming all around you & a guy is playing music on a lyre, better than you’ve ever heard before.

Hades points to the musician, “That’s Orpheus, we’re glad he came back. He cheers the place up, you know?”

You walk past two guys sitting on a bench, they’re holding on to each other like their life depends on it. “Achilles & Patroclus,” Hades explains, “after all this time they’re still scared to let go”

You feel proud, “So I was right? The Greek myths are real?”

“But my friend, of course, you knew that didn’t you? Otherwise you would have never arrived here. This is a place only for the people who believed in us.”

Your hearts sinks.

“Why do you think I had the time to come and greet you? Why haven’t had a new soul in years. We’re so glad you’re here!”

Your family, your friends, everyone you’ve ever loved, they won’t be coming. You’re in paradise, but you’re all alone.

[theyapper0]

PART FOUR OF "DISHONORED GUESTS"

Charlie says how Sinners are not stagnant in the place they were when they died. They are still able to change! 

Sera: What makes you say that?

Charlie: If you truly believe the Winners here in Heaven are just as cognizant as you, me, or any other being existing between any of our realms, then I don't see any reason why you wouldn't extend that thinking towards the Sinners of Hell

The crowd begins to murmur…. The demon made a good couple points so far…

There's some back and forth but eventually the topic shifts to the Hazbin Hotel. 

The topic of discussion specifically is about their first patron, Anthony 

Sera: And how long has Anthony been in your care? Charlie: About 4 months at this point! And yes! We do!!!! He may not follow EVERY commandment EXACTLY but he’s still learning- and a lot at that!!!! 

Adam: Do we have any proof of all he's learned? 

So they get the Orb. 

The Orb shows Angel and Emily is leaning on her hands in awe, “Wow! A real Sinner! :D”

Adam is like “mmmmmmm…….*getting annoyed*

So I'm actually gonna keep everything that happens at the club with the Sinners. 

(Angel standing up to Valentino won't be ‘sticking it to the man’ it can just be considered ‘thou shalt not unto thee any graven image’ (putting Valentino’s importance/work above all else, not doing that anymore)

Sera: I don't believe it….

Emily is like… “Thou shalt not unto thee any graven image!’ Angel Dust’s boss was his graven image but standing up to him and not allowing him to speak ill of his friends paves the way for the potential of a new source of worship in above!” 

Charlie: Yes! Exactly! Angel Dust is capable of change, EVERY Sinner is with the right support! 

If they can be redeemed, WHEN? And HOW exactly can they reach the gates? Is it even physically POSSIBLE? 

Sera is completely speechless.

Sera: I…. 

Sera regains her composure, “A-And… And what, Miss Morningstar, would you say about the Commandments that a Sinner would be physically incapable of following? ‘Honor thy mother and father’ for example? 

Charlie: Well like you said, that would be impossible to follow if a Sinner’s parents are not dead yet or are in Heaven but uh….. but……

Charlie: But surely we, as Heaven and Hell, create some sort of middle ground! We could come up with a replacement for this commandment-! 

Adam: Replace one of the Ten Commandments?! 

Emily is like I don't see how else we'd be able to work around that if we didn't! It would just be for these cases of redemption-

Sera: Emily!

The whole Courtroom erupts into chaos.

EVERYONE'S shouting and NO ONE knows what's going on. Everybody's got their own ideas and opinions and it seems they all want to be heard at this very moment. 

Can a Sinner be redeemed? How could that HELL RAT date think to replace one of the Commandments! Would they have to deal with Sinners potentially ruining their Heavenly paradise? Could a WINNER get sent to Hell?

Sera shouts, “THAT'S ENOUGH!!” and a magic, angelic surge bursts through the room, quieting everybody.

Sera sighs, “This questioning stops now. We know when a soul arrives, we know when they pass divine judgment, it is our job to ensure these souls are safe”

Emily: But Sera! They CAN change!!! We JUST saw it!! 

Sera is looking down at Emily solemnly and conflicted…

Emily looks like she's lost some fight but then she glanced at Charlie, who's looking back up at her earnestly. 

They won't listen to Charlie, they don't even listen to EMILY! 

But they've heard each other… they UNDERSTOOD each other! 

Emily: NO! 

Emily: He had followed a Commandment! He's showing promise but we just decide to dismiss the whole thing?! How is that fair?! How is that the forgiving and merciful way of Heaven?! 

Charlie: Just because they're dead doesn't mean they can't change and you're not even giving it a chance! Sinners should have an option to escape Hell if they're deserving of Heaven! 

Adam is getting a little heated, “There's a reason for all this! Sinners of Hell were once human but they've made the choices that got them there and they must pay the price for all eternity!”

Charlie: But why?! 

Adam: Because that's just how it is! 

Emily: It shouldn't have to be! They're souls just like the ones up here in Heaven! 

Emily is taking Charlie's side. She's siding with a product of deviation from Heaven!! Just like-!

Adam: Sinners were humans who have done unspeakable things! VILE things! Humanity is tainted- tainted because of our-... MY foolishness. 

Adam shouts, “And it just keeps getting worse! More and more humans are turning towards sin! If you all could know how many are down there in Hell then you'd understand why we have to go down there for the Exterminations and-!

The Courtroom goes into a frenzy again

FUUUCKK!!!! Some people there knew about the Exterminations and were like “Well shit” while those who didn't know were like “The Extermi- WHAT?!”

So Emily is like “WHAT?!???” 

Basically the whole second half of “You Didn't Know” song :P

In the chaos and the shouting and stuff, Adam is still in total shock about what he had just exposed… What did he do? It was an accident! It was just the heat of the moment and he was so angry and frustrated and he didn't mean to admit anything! 

Lute looks across the Courtroom and her and Vaggie's eyes meet.

Lute: Don't think I've forgotten you”

Vaggie is tugging on Charlie's arm like, “We need to go, NOW, Charlie”

Charlie is like, “What??? Look!! We're finally getting somewhere!”

Emily agrees

Lute: Don't act so coy, HELLSPAWN! Your power grows at our disarray! You're just as bad as those disgusting Sinners, just as bad as…. HER! 

Charlie is pissed, “Take that BACK” 

Lute: Why should I? It's the truth! 

Lute looks at the crowd of people, “This nonsense has gone on for far too long!”

Lute: Why should we allow ourselves to listen to them?! 

Lute: To the Heir to Hell and a-!

“LUTE DON'T-!”

Lute: A FALLEN ANGEL! 

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Burning Branches AU part 1

Or alternate title, I have now been sucked down the sudden black hole that is this fandom and now the troll plot bunnies are running ramped around my Fanfic farm, because the creators of this franchise has added my weakness...Sibling relationships... Now I have plans for a two story saga in this fandom of which I wouldn't have glanced at with interest at all a month ago.

Well, that's enough rambling, Time to get into the meat of the fic plot.

So, while browsing on Ao3 I noticed that there was this Rock!Branch au, where Branch is separated from the pop-trolls as a kid and ends up being raised by Barb and Thrash of the Rock Trolls. I love this concept, more then some relatives of mine. But I want to put a little spin on it. I've been a big fan of amnesia/memory loss fics, and I noticed there was a lack of them in this fandom.

Brozone breaks up and Grandma dies like in canon, same old same old. However, in this AU Branch is forced to leave the Troll Tree as a kid, because there is a larger sigmatism about trolls who went grey. The Trolls are very clear that they want nothing to do with Branch. They are all already living with death at their door step and they don't need a grey child to constantly break the false image of happy paradise that the adults try to maintain in the Tree to keep themselves sane. Branch, with nothing else left for him in the tree, packs up and tries to leave to find his brothers, though he does worry if they would even want him now that he was grey.

After successfully escaping the town, (the bergens don't notice if a small troll vanishes in the middle of the night, they didn't notice the whole village packing up), Branch spends a terrifying night in the woods. Running away from what are "predator's" in the eyes of a small child. Until he accidentally, stumbles in the a wormhole. The wormhole sucks Branch away from, Pop territory to the outskirts of the Rock badlands. But in this new hot volcanic he is still far from safe. (I'm adding that their are harsh powerful dragons that roam around the Rock trolls territory, as there has to be some type of reason behind they turned their own music and instruments in the to energy weapons while the other tribes didn't. Not to mention the active volcanic activity everywhere!) While running away from some of these actual predators and dangerous lava pools, Branch gets shoved over a cliffside, and falls into one of the few rivers nearby. In the raging rapids, the little troll strikes his head against the rocky river bed. Knocking him out.

Meanwhile, Still-King Thrash is leading an expedition to the river to fetch water for the people of Volcano Rock City. Being the very soft and caring Father he is, once he sees a small child floating in the river he jumps in without a second thought, and pulls the child to the shore. He leaves the expedition in the hands of another Troll and brings the some how still alive child back to the City and into the care of a capable doctor. While waiting to hear if Branch will live, Thrash goes through the little sack the kid had with him. There's enough evidence for the king of rock to come to the conclusion that Branch was running away, and needless to say Thrash is furious. Who would be so cruel that dared to make a child in his kingdom feel so scared and unwelcomed that they would run away! (at this point due to Branch's greyness and the high emotions of the situation Thrash hasn't realized Branch is from Pop yet, not that it would matter in the long run he's still ticked off).

Eventually, the doctor (an old friend of Thrash's whom they have a deep trust between, I haven't named them yet), calls Thrash in. Thrash finds Branch unconscious on the medical bed with his head bandaged. The doctor tells Thrash that's its a miracle that Branch is even alive, but it would take a bigger one for the child to wake up. The underneath the blood of the wound was a skull fracture and possible brain damage. Then he mentions it would probably be better if Branch never woke up, and further explains Branch's nature as a pop troll, and his greyness. Thrash takes this information in with a sad heart. Stigma against pop was still running high in the Rock kingdom, despite Thrash wanting to believe his people could spare their bias to care for a wounded child, he knows that no foster family would take a pop troll in. He asks the Doctor to keep quiet about Branch, and that if the boy would wake up Thrash would take him in himself. He goes home and hugs Barb after an exhausting day, and asks her if she was open to having a little brother.

After a few weeks, Branch wakes up, but he has no memory of anything. Not his name. Not where he's from. Not how he got there. At this point the medical staff that were allowed to know about him, have taken to calling him Charcoal, or Char, after his perfectly black and shiny hair, and it just kind of stuck after that. Thrash has taken to visiting Branch, even before the boy was conscious, quickly growing fond over the boy and until he'd recovered enough to be taken to the royal cavern. Barb takes to having Char around very well. Having a younger sibling, gives her something to put her protectiveness towards. Thrash makes and announcement, claiming Char as his own to Rock, and putting the boy as second in-line for the throne.

Still it isn't all cupcakes and rainbows with Char in his new home. He has lasting effected form his head injury in the form of migraines and fainting spells. The child is plagued by nightmares, of Giants coming to eat him and old ladies. They frighten him so much he draws and designs traps and bunkers to keep himself safe. Some of the designs Thrash actually considers building in case of emergency. Music brings him to tears if it's too loud or sudden, or if Barb asked him to sing-along. His room is sound proofed, and he has a pair of headphones to block things out if needed. Thrash also finds that his new adoptive son, is far more book-smart then him or Barb, the rarely used Rock library becomes Char's second home. The child become well educated in History, engineering, math, sciences and politics.

It would take two years before, Barb managed to talk Char into coming to her music practice, where the kid learns that music is more then just noise that makes him feel scared/unsafe. Seeing the weapon music can be, something he can learn to protect himself with, Char becomes hooked on the idea of learning it. Too everyone's surprise, it comes to boy like second nature, and his voice is like that of an angel's.

Eighteen years pass, and Branch grows up to be, Prince Char, second born son to Thrash King of Rock. He's a known expert with a guitar, both as an instrument and a weapon, his reputation is that of a eerily smart and organized strategist, who is loyal to his family and people to a fault and ruthlessly protective. With Thrash's health, both physical and mental, in rapid decline, Barb is forced to take on the mantel of Queen earlier then she wanted, but this time she has a brother to lean on as an advisor. Which is a good thing, because between the two of them Char is a much better planner.

Pressure is turned up on the royal rock siblings, when an unexpected earthquake destroys the farmlands that feeds the city. Sure, volcanic soil can been great for growing plants, but rivers of lava and giant fresh trenches don't help at all. Barb flies off the handle, and begins to panic in quiet about what she needs to do to protect the people of Rock, while Char looks into historical records to see if the past king ever had to deal with issues like this. Eventually he stumbles on the knowledge that during ancient times if one of the tribes was in trouble they would call upon their sister tribes for aid.

"Oh that's great advise your books have, let's ask for help from our sworn enemies!" Barb would exclaim, "Wait...the other tribes! If they lasted as long as we did, then they must have resources! But they wouldn't help us...not unless they were just like us. We could use our string to convert..."

"Barb! I'm going to stop you right now. First one our string isn't powerful enough to over-write someone's genre, believe me I looked into it-"

"But if we get all the strings..."

"You mean steal them?"

"Yah!"

"No, if we were to fail that would only sour relations between genres further and our people would still be starving. We'd be better off forging an alliance with a tribe, rather then wasting already limited resources conquering one."

"URGH! Why are you always right....So, alliance...that's our best plan?"

"Currently yes."

"With people that hate us! Are we sure we can't conquer them?"

"Barb, were trying to make a harmony. You can't make harmony with everyone using the same voice. They all need to be different, and they all can't be forced into something they they aren't or it all falls apart."

"Whoa, that's deep. Where'd ya learn that?"

"I-I don't know...but the point still stands we need to befriend another tribe not conquer one!"

"Okay, so how do we do that?"

"Well, apparently theirs more ways then one, all of them include paper work, so leave that to me, but one of them we actually have a unique opportunity to ally with."

"Oh? And how do we take advantage of this unique opportunity?"

"You're not going to like this...but we use me..."

Branch would go on to explain his plan to ally the Rock kingdom with the Pop trolls...through an Arranged Marriage between him and the Pop princess. Barb hates it, especially after all the pop trolls did to her brother when he was young, but she can't argue the logic. The pop trolls live in a forest rich with food and plant life, and water sources. However, they have zero defenses other then how deep they live in the forest. (how he knows all of this Branch has no idea) If the alliance managed to go through, the Rock trolls could get the needed food supplies, and the Pop trolls could gain the knowledge of how to use musical weaponry.

Barb still hates it, it feels like her little brother is throwing away his future. But Char assures her that he's okay with it, and that it's his turn to take on the burden of the crown he supposed to wear. As a bio-pop troll the possibility of an heir from the alliance marriage is higher then if they use a random Rock citizen, and as Rock Prince that will give more creditably to the pleads of their people to Pop. He tells Barb to just take care of Dad when he's gone and that they always have debbie to talk to each other through letters.

So they send a message to Pop Village...requesting to consider the marriage.

At Pop village, Poppy is busy with her new duties as a fresh coronated Queen, caring for the village needs and further establishing peaceful relations with the Bergens after the fall of Chef. When the message reaches her, delivered Via Debbie and Biggie, Peppy tries to take it from her before she cane read it. And then she demands that he Explain why she just got a proposal in a letter from a Rock Prince?

Peppy reluctantly explains the history of the Tribes, and how some times they would form alliances between the genres by wedding members of the royal families together to ensure peace. He makes it very clear that He doesn't want Poppy to even think of answering the Rock trolls even if to decline the proposal, but she fights back saying hat this might be their only chance for peace between the genres for years to come if its taken this long for them to reach out this time. Peppy then tries to argue that if Poppy were to accept the proposal that she would have to marry this prince, this stranger, and he never wanted that to happen to her. He knows Poppy is queen now and he can't order her to do anything, but he asks her to think about this before making any kind of decision.

Poppy needless to say, deeply contemplates the proposal. She wants to help reunite the tribes, but bonding herself to a stranger she never met was a daunting thing. She talks with Cooper and Bridget who are surprisingly helpful with everything, and decides that she'll accept the proposal with the condition that she and her future groom have the chance to meet and get to know each other before the wedding.

Barb and Char readily accept the condition, and calculate that they can give one month of courtship before the Rock kingdom is without food. They respond back to Poppy, and tell them that Char and a few others would arrive in Pop Village a few days after she would receive the letter that confirmed the betrothal.

Char arrives at Pop Village with much fanfare from his travel companions, but shushes them quickly and addresses Poppy and Peppy in a polite manner. Poppy is kind of thrown off by how grey her future husband is, not that she shows it. Char is just as shocked about how bright and colorful she is.

The romance is awkward at first. The cultural differences get in the way sometimes. But eventually a connection is formed. Char learns to feed off of Poppy's energy and Poppy learns that there's more to this grey prince then gloom. With the wedding scheduled for the end of the month, Poppy decides to introduce Char to her BFF Bridget.

Needless to say, it doesn't go well.

Char's underlaying trauma comes back in a panic attack and flashback upon seeing the Troll Tree and bergens. The memory of his Grandmother's demise suddenly becoming clear as day in his mind. In the panic he accidently fires his guitar at Grisle and Bridget, with makes Poppy panic and angry at him. So he runs off into the woods.

Bridget and Poppy end up having a heart to heart where Bridget says that Char looked scared. Having heard about how Char was acutualy a pop-troll and was adopted into the royal family, Poppy connects the dots rather quickly. Realizing that Char used to live in the Troll Tree but didn't escape with the others. the whole visit was triggering for him.

She runs back to Pop Village looking forh im, only to find that Queen Barb had arrived to help set up the wedding, and she wants to know where her Brother is. Poppy blurts out what happened while trying to defuse the situation, and that only serves to rile Barb up further. Until Poppy snaps, yellling at Barb that they need to go looking for Char not fight here! This impresses Barb into agreeing.

Poppy finds him and they end up having a heart to heart, and confessing...

The wedding goes on as planned. On the neutral ground of the Troll Tree, allowing Char to visit his late Grandmother's home for the first time in twenty years.

All seems well...Until one John Dory screams, "Stop the Wedding!"

...

I will post part two in a separate post because this is long!

Part two, and Part three

Edit: The prolog for this fic, which is basically Char's child hood is now posted on Ao3. Link

[apollosunshineisdead]

my favorite lyric or two from every will wood song

Everything is a Lot:

6up 5oh: "they shoulda fried me, I'll give ya PTSD!"

skeleton Appreciation Day: "give me all your LSD so i can feel my mind unweave again!"

front Street: "you said let loose, but now you're lost"

aikido!: "i told doctor tillis to prescribe an illness, but he said his schedule's filled with children with need Prozac, prilosec and lo-jack, triple-sec and lexapro"

white Knuckle Jerk: "i wonder how i woke up in the middle of my surgery, and i watched them botch my heart"

cover This Song!: "i'm just a little bit crazy 'bout you, just a little bit out of my mind"

Thermodynamic Lawyer: "so all that i see, absolute entropy as the chemical bounds fall apart"

red Moon: "the crescent rests, tethered to the west"

lysergide Daydream: "ooh, i wanna be on the picture on the postcard, pouring pitchers in the backyard by the garden we tend"

the First Step: "i lost count after 21 in the college crawl"

jimmy Mushrooms': "i think the truth is that everyone's wrong!"

Compound Fracture: "bienvenidos a la villa de arañas españas"

everything is a Lot: "night sky, i wonder why i am alive until i die / i find that at this size, no answer can be right"

destroy to Enjoy: "lao tzu, chaung tzu, yin-yang tattoos, FUCK your mystic wisdom! find your own way home from Bonnaroo!"

SELF-iSH:

self-: "i'll shake the apples from my family tree, so when the autumn comes to take the leaves..."

2012: "testing my hypothesis, never finding a theory!"

cotard's Solution: "rolling my third eye into the back, of my head and squinting through the black"

mr. Capgras: "eulogy or biography, i'm who i ought to be, and that is God to me"

the Song with 5 Names: "WHAT IS "IS"? WHAT IS "NOT"? WHAT IS "WHAT"? WHAT'S UP PARTY PEOPLE! WHAT? / WHY I WONDER WHY I'M NOT WHATEVER, WHAT THE FUCK!"

hand Me My Shovel: "looking up, i could say Heaven sent me! / hand me my shovel, i'm going in!"

dr. Sunshine is Dead: "i'm noone if i'm nowhere in between!"

-ish: "well at 27 will i see, that i was born to be the man i'll be?"

The Normal Album:

greetings from Mary Bell Township!: "so give me your half-life crisis / i can tell that you know where paradise is!"

(vampire) Culture: come on, drink that BLOOD! didn't they want your blood?

Love Me, normally: the Lord looked down, said, "hey, you're only mortal"

2econd 2ight 2eer: "my grip on the secrets' slippin' while i'm speakin' in tongues!"

laplace's Angel: "so if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor / neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door"

i/Me/myself: "eating your prosthetic, meet your anesthetic"

...well, better than the Alternative: "she's gonna be a lot like me, but i don't wanna be at all like me"

outliars And Hyppocrates: "i am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you, the red hot sky"

blackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA: "his ribcage was a hornet's nest, his palpitations set the beat!"

marsha, thankk you for the Dialects: "doctor, what's my prognosis if the studies show that / disease is in the eye of the beholder, tell me "so it goes!""

love, Me Normally: "is there nothing to fear, cuz shit's getting weird!"

memento Mori: "no need to fear cuz when it's Here you won't be alive / try not to think about it!"

Camp Here & There: Campfire Songs:

venetian Blind Man: "string on his finger, a tourniquet ring"

yes, to err is Human: "if you don't hate me, then reanimate me!"

your body, My Temple: "furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will"

when somebody Needs you: "fishing lure moon on a string for you, didn't you say you need space?"

"In Case I Make It,"

tomcat Disposables: "what's the moon made of? meet me there after i'm gone"

becoming The Lastnames: "weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss"

Cicada Days: "here at the end of days, my god, what have I done? / christ, now it feels damn inhumane to get all i dreamed of"

euthanasia: "and every, everybody dies / fighting for their lives, just trying to survive"

falling Up: "airplane eclipses over spirals of math – would or could the impact kill me?"

that's Enough, let's get you Home: "but CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home"

um, it's Kind of a Lot: "sorry darling, please excuse my constant need to self-aggrandize!"

half-Decade Hangover: "but i can't make amends for things i can't remember"

vampire Reference in a Minor Key: "the seraphim on my shoulder, whispering "please don't turn your head""

you liked this: "Ten Red Flags that a Neurotypical Narcissist is Trauma Dump Gaslighting You into Sex-Negative Self-Abuse Emotional Labor and Internalised Reverse Racism Against Post-Modern Flat Earthers with Facts and Logic (Number Seven Will Destroy Your Family)"

the Main Character: "judge me by what my cover shows, author becomes beyond reproach"

Against the Kitchen Floor: "i'm not a good person, i'm barely a person at all"

Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll: "and i hate proving that i'm still human after all"

BFB's Blueberry Pie: " "

Willard!: "so gather 'round pandora's skinner's box, look through the one-way mirror / if you can see in shade's of grey, the colors are much clearer"

White Noise: "it begs the question just to tell you the answer!"

ICIMI outtakes:

misanthrapologist: "I hear your hear beating under the floorboards" and if i did, you deserved it: "that i really don't carе what you think or what you say, either that or I do way too much, oh well whatever, either way"

thank you for listening

[goodluckclove]

I have a theory that being angry and complaining online is the default for most because it's inherently scarier to be earnest and vulnerable. So I invite whoever reads this to reblog and tell me about something you love un-ironically that doesn't make you look more intelligent or conventionally hip.

The rules are if I see anyone giving each other shit over a thing someone likes I'm going to send them an ask that's just a picture of wet, sad cat with zero context. Same if someone claims that they like to complain and it's their god-given right to do it as often as they like and wherever they want. Of course you do. It is not interesting to defend your right to talk about all the small things you hate when no one is really challenging them in the first place. You can complain forever until you die and that's totally fine.

Anyways I'll start.

I love Jimmy Buffett.

It's not because his music is so bad I think it's amusing. I actually think his music is really good. If he was still alive I'd absolutely spend money on a Jimmy Buffett concert because that sounds like a super fun time.

Fruitcakes is a fucking banger. Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On is only one of his many songs that give big Good Dad energy when shit is rough. People mostly only know him for Cheeseburger in Paradise - but honestly? That rocks too. Sometimes I also want a cheeseburger.

People try to give me shit because he sold his likeness to the Margaritaville restaurants and hotels. I'm not even upset about this. The man struggled to be financially stable enough to play music in the beginning of his career, and sold his name to get money to make music and play concerts. He did a good handful of charity shows. He delivered tents to Haiti after the earthquake. He's not like known for philanthropy, but the vibe I get from him is that he's a pretty good guy who just wanted to make music and hang out with his loved ones.

He was literally in the middle of finishing an album when he died last year. He just made music as often as he could right up until it was his turn to go. His last words, according to one of his daughters, were have fun.

You can tell me you don't like his music, but you can't listen and tell me you don't think he'd be a fucking chill hang when the only real answer I got from searching "Jimmy Buffett controversy" is that he got caught with a bunch of ecstacy in '06 and paid a fine before being released. I don't even do ecstacy but holy shit my one exception would be trying it with Jimmy Buffett can you imagine??

Anyways. Your turn, friends.