#me wonders what that's all about but this isnt the time to dig through my issues lmfao

[autisticlalna]

"You Were Right" (and a behind the scenes on how we got here)

initially i was gonna make a post going over all of Anathra's lore so far but then i realized i do not quite have the spoons for it, and also i'd like to break it up into easier to cover parts anyway. so let's jump straight into the most recent mystery!

i've already talked before about the hidden messages in Rubyco's videos, and about the split-second easter eggs in Viking's. encrypted messages aren't exactly new to Skyblock Kingdoms.

but, okay, let's rewind a little. it's 1 am, a couple days before Anathra's episode 8 premieres. i'm winding down for bed, see the premiere on my homepage, and go: hey! i wonder what Anathra's doing next episode!

hey what the fuck is that. why is there elder furthark

a bit of backstory on me: i love translating things. you probably know this by now. i also knew a guy who was big into norse mythology stuff, and that included him knowing elder furthark. so i immediately peg that as "oh, shit, that's elder furthark" and track down a translation tool.

("why are you going into backstory" we'll get to that. lol lmao.)

anyway, its 1 am, i run it through the first tool i find, and get:

someþiŋ ' weird ' happened

...or "something weird happened".

COOL. THAT'S OMINOUS.

i go to bed. when i wake up, Moxi has shared something from Anathra's discord:

...but i can't figure out what it translates to.

timeskip to the premiere.

Anathra gets a delivery from the End Kingdom after helping Josh out with villager stuff. he goes to place the shulker down, it's suddenly nighttime, and...

hey, what

iou were right

...okay, here's where we loop back to that backstory bit, and also i pull back the curtain to showcase how hilariously bad this went for the dnerds.

i recognized the alphabet as elder furthark

(and yet my dyslexic ass doesnt realize theres two rs in it until now. it has been 5 years.)

trying to translate the box name gave me gibberish ("io nht tuil")

i also knew from the "something weird happened" message that elder furthark isnt 1:1 with the english alphabet

oops there are two translator tools. oops they use different runes for "y"

due to [gestures at cherry and doak], there is a minor scuffle about if it says "you" or if it actually IS supposed to say "iou"

we still cant translate the box

still cant translate the discord message either. this is about to be really funny

people in the sbkcd are also translating it, so we compare notes

anathra steps in to save us:

THANK YOU ANATHRA <3

i am immediately embarrassed because, oops, turns out Angerthas (dwarven runs from Lord of the Rings) has alphabet overlap with elder furthark, so that's where the confusion came from. seeing as it's a post-filming decision, that does mean that the episode description and chat message were translated correctly, but the box is in Angerthas and, despite having the same runes, they do not correspond to the same english letters.

i spend a bit alternating between bonking myself for my mistake and bonking my very tired head against Angerthas for a bit until WhiteQry suggests that maybe what Anathra said in chat is the same thing. later, Aquelon is able to translate it as "IU WER RAIT". or,

YOU WERE RIGHT

...right about what?

skipping back to the events of the episode: Anathra realizes that he's lost time. he says he's only felt this "once before", doesn't know what the writing is, and is generally thrown off by... whatever just happened.

i need to rewatch Anathra's pov before i can dig into what i think the message means-- my initial guess is that it has something to do with his ?nightmare? from episode 5, although im not sure past that. considering his pov plays with the concept of the fourth wall a bit as-is, the message also might not be for Anathra (and he can't read it with glasses on either way).

Anathra's in the middle of something. there's a lot going on with him, inside and outside, and i really want to do more overviews of his lore because it's very fun. until then, keep an eye out for more strange messages i guess.

-

"hey leo you didn't translate the furthark in the 'glasses off' message, what gives" WELL, YOU SEE. I WAS TOO BUSY BEING EMBARRASSED AT THE TIME TO PROCESS IT. AND IT WASNT UNTIL WRITING THIS POST AND GETTING THAT SCREENSHOT THAT I SAW IT AND WENT "wait. hold on" AND RAN IT THROUGH THE TRANSLATOR.

AND THEN REALIZED, AFTER FOUR DAYS, THAT ITS THE URL OF THE SITE IM USING TO TRANSLATE THIS AND IT JUST GOT KINDA MANGLED BECAUSE OF THE "NOT 1:1 WITH ENGLISH ALPHABET" THING.

im in hysterics. how did this happen. please dont ever think im professional. all of these super cool in-depth explainer posts are the end result of so much clownery but i needed to show you guys just how much of a MESS this is lmao

[bridgyrose]

“You cant keep letting people take advantage of you!”

Summer rolled her eyes and let out a sigh as she felt Raven grip her shoulder. “They’re not taking advantage of me, Rae. Its my choice to help people whether they really need the help or not.” 

“I still think you need to make boundaries on helping others,” Raven said. “We cant keep deviating from our mission every time someone asks for help.” 

“And when did the mission ever matter to you?” Summer asked with a smirk. “Unless… you’re finally going soft.” 

“I’m not soft, I care about getting paid. And the sooner we get this mission done, the sooner we get paid.” 

Summer grinned as she poked Raven’s shoulder. “That cant be the *only* reason you’re on this mission. Three years ago I was practically dragging you to make sure you went on missions to keep your license active, and now you’re coming with me on missions on your own and even focused on making sure we get them done. So tell me, what’s got you wanting to get this done?” 

“Its not like that.” 

“Then what is it?” 

“I just think you need to be more careful about who you help and when you do. That’s all.” 

Summer shook her head and continued walking through the Mantle streets as she looked around at the people that roamed the streets. It was easy to tell that most of them were faunus who were down on their luck or had nowhere else to go, so it didnt bother her much if she stopped to help those that asked for it. That was part of being a huntress. “Does it really matter who we help out?” 

“We shouldn’t help others if we arent getting paid,” Raven said plainly. “What’s the point if we dont get anything out of it?” 

“Just because we dont get paid for every little good deed doesnt mean we arent getting anything out of it. Helping others is its own reward.” 

“Not a tangible one,” Raven huffed. 

Summer frowned and quickly pulled Raven by her arm. “Alright, that’s it. *You* need to learn to relax.” 

“Summer-” 

“No ‘Summer’ me. We are going to do our mission and help at least twenty people before we are done so you can finally feel a bit of warmth in that cold heart of yours.” 

“My heart isnt that cold!” 

Summer dragged Raven down the road and towards the crater of Mantle, certain they’d find people there who could use help. Sure it was selfish to look for people who needed help just to prove a point, but as long as those who needed help received it then it didnt really matter why she was helping, right? 

A smile crossed her lips as she came across a woman and her child standing next to a barrel trying to keep warm next to the flames that came from it. “Look, there’s a couple people here who could use our assistance.” 

Raven pulled herself out of Summer’s grip. “And how do you know they need help? Maybe they have everything under control.” 

“Because everyone needs help at some point,” Summer said through her teeth as she walked over to the mother and child. She kept a friendly smile on her lips as she reached out to the mother. “I'm Summer and this is my partner Raven. We were wondering if you needed any help.” 

“Oh, we… we could… maybe use some food,” the mother said. “A-and a couple coats.” 

Summer nodded and sat down her back to dig through her rations to find some that would be filling enough for the mother and her child. “I’m not so sure what I can do about coats, but I know I have some food here that I can give you.” 

“That would be great.” 

“This should work for now for food, at least for a couple days until things can get cleared up with the mines,” Summer said as she handed over a few ration packs with dried meat, cheese, and bread. “And I’ll see what I can do about getting you a couple coats.” 

The mother took the ration packs with a smile. “Thank you.” 

“And what are we supposed to do for food?” Raven asked. “Those ration packs are supposed to last us for the month and we cant exactly afford more.” 

“And we’ll get more food-” 

“With what money, Sum? This is what I mean by not letting people take advantage of you.” 

“We can restock before we leave.” 

“Not if we cant afford to.” Raven sighed and took Summer’s hand. “I love you, but you cant keep helping people like this. Why is it so important to you to help until you cant anymore?” 

Summer averted her eyes from Raven’s, voice cracking as she spoke. “B-because then… I… I’ll know that no one else has to be in the same position I was. Just because I lived within a kingdom didnt mean I had everything I needed. My family struggled and relied on the help of others to survive. My parents used every last bit of their money to help send me to Beacon to become a huntress before they passed away.” She wiped away a few tears and looked up at Raven again with a sad smile. “I owe it to them to help others like we were.” 

Raven rolled her eyes and started to drag Summer down the street. “That’s fine, but you have to quit giving away everything we need for our missions to help others.” 

Summer winced a bit as she felt Raven’s grip tighten around her arm as she tried to struggle to get free. “But Rae-”

“Mission first. We get paid and then we can find a way to help others.” 

“Fine,” Summer said with a small pout as they passed by a few more faunus struggling to survive. It hurt her to leave them, but she understood where Raven was coming from. “At least let me try to help someone before we go.” 

“No!” 

“I wont give away anything we have.” 

“Mission first.” Raven pinched the bridge of her nose. “Working with Tai would’ve been easier. At least he gets things done.”

[raihanijulie]

[ LEMNISCUS GUIDE BLOG!!! ]

☆Reading until end of blog will be much appreciated!!! (Psst, theres a discord server link i slipped in btw....)

Picture below isnt accurate with tumblr bc this was made for instagram post.

You may be wondering... "What is Lemniscus? Why do you keep mentioning it in your posts?"

TO BEGIN WITH, Lemniscus is one of the planets in this universe with Ribbaniuns the living beings in it! The population of Lemniscus consist the various anthropomorphic animals.

And thats where we begin sharing the story and contents of these characters by the name LEMNISCUS! You could say Lemniscus is a series/project my friends and i worked on together!!! (We took Lemniscus bc we literally only focus on this planet... No else.)

Ah... So then, "Who are the characters? Why do they look like the characters from Sonic series?"

THIS. is a good one to explain and i reallly want you guys to keep in mind with this!!!!

Yes! The Lemniscus cast does look like the characters from Sonic the hedgehog because they do take the design and traits inspiration from them! BUT! The personality, backstories, interractions, lores, all of those... We worked and develop on it ourselves!!! (Theres similiarities still, but its only SLIGHT!!! Theres some differences when compared)

Thats why this is NOT counted as Sonic au, instead, its their own universe and story! The Lemniscus cast are original characters/ocs based on existing character that later we develop so they wont look EXACTLY like the existing char they took inspiration of!

I could say that this universe's origins of making is basically 'based on Sonic'. Throughout time, there are improvisasion little by little as we worked on building chars and stories, making it their own thing :D!! So, again, Lemniscus and Sonic are two different thing... I appreciate yall's understanding. I dont want any miscommunication between Lemniscus and Sonic franchise! <"3

The original characters belong to their respective owners <3 (Keep in mind we are 4 person putting our characters in ONE and worked together in this)

Alright!!! Now INTRODUCE THE CAST/CHARACTERS!

As in the main characters! Here ill list out the characters name with their profile links AND respective owners too! Get to know each of them by clicking their names:

Hz Railstar, Alora Quinn, Victoria Opal, Ezra (JULIE/HANA!!! ME!!! :D HOIHOI!!! I link you guys to my chars' masterpost in tumblr hehe,,, its more detailed!!!)

Gausberto, Nova, Puffin, Xenophone (Hani! NOTE: She doesnt put much infos of her characters, i'll most likely be the one to share the infos through source from her she is my own sister after all Infos about Hani's chars are most likely in the discord server!)

Aero and Noire ( @m3tr0n0m333 )

Rambutan Stoneheart ( @cherriosblog )

OH!!! But thats not it!! Theres more infos i'd like to share....

Slowly but surely, we noticed our Lemniscus contents dragged people to start being curious about it, even interested with the series/project we worked! Of course, with a warm welcome, we opened a discord server, ☆LEMNISCUS (Hz Universe), for the little community we have :D!!!

The server is a great place for you to learn more about the characters (bc again, SOME of the Lemniscus cast here are explained alot more in the discord server instead!) and LORESSS obviously! Its even easier and you can keep on track whenever new things are shared by us :)

The characters arent only the ones shown here... In fact, there are more than you think. Yes! Im talkin bout the side characters! Theyre mostly explained and digged alot more in the server soo....

Hop in and join to get more familliar of Lemniscus!! ☆

.

This must conclude the blog. Thank you everyone for the consideration and supports of this little project we worked on! <3 I, the one to start all this fun chaotic universe is very grateful that i'd make it this far by sharing contents of these silli cast, not only me, but by you dedicated supporters and friends that worked alongside me ☆

Live, laugh, burn Hertz!🔥🔥🔥🔥

[angelllcakes]

hiiii~

i was wondering if you could write an angst imagine of jeonghan where he cheats on y/n, but in the end he begs for her back? some sad backstory maybe 🤭

i’m so sorry idk why stories like these are my favorite i just love being hurt i guess 😓😩 but take your time please and be safe!!

no worries at all! i can handle a little angst 😌

just need to tell myself that this ISNT self indulgent and i’m not trying to hurt my own heart by writing angst ab my ult hehe

numbful void, ft. jeonghan

pairings: idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

warnings: angst, suggestive content, lots of crying, mentions of cheating smooching 😱😱

word count: 1.2k

There’s a distance between the two of you lately.

Maybe not in the ways one would expect, for your boyfriend still greets you sweet good mornings’ and goodbyes’ each day. It’s the same as it’s always been, yet you sense a separation only felt behind the thoughts of curiosity and mistrust.

In the last few months you’ve seen less and less of jeonghan, naively trusting his claims that his comeback requires extensive preparations. It’s difficult to understand being in a position such as his, for a demanding, best-selling group of artists require more rehearsals and more attention in order to remain at the very top. You couldn’t imagine the stress he endured, so you never minded when he’d call you late at night, sleepily letting you know of his whereabouts with the other members. You’d always give in, letting him have his freedom if it meant seeing him smile. Though his honesty began to twist from that point on, for less than a month later his colleagues would kindly message you, about him.

Joshua Hong, 12:48am - Sry to bother you, just wanted to make sure Jeonghan got back home safe~

You, 12:50am - He isn’t with you?

Sooner or later, incoming calls from the others would appear, leaving you distraught at the hundreds of thoughts peddling through your mind about your boyfriend’s location.

“We finished rehearsing about an hour ago, like we have for the last five weeks. He told me he was going straight home to you?”

“He isn’t here, but thank you for being honest with me ‘Kwan.”

you bite your lip tensely, bouncing one leg up and down as you sit by your bedroom window. Just the idea of him being in an unsafe situation triggers your mind, though for some reason you can’t let yourself believe this has all been happening unintentionally.

You, 1:12am - Hannie?

You, Imy, are you almost home?

You, 1:15am - idc where you are just tell me you’re ok

~

By morning, your eyes blink open to whisps of hair tickling your shoulder, and an arm tightly clung to your waist. In the moment you want to shake him startled and interrogate him with questions that have kept you up all night. But you wouldn’t dare, instead nudging closer to him in the comfort of his warmth.

But this always happens, by the next morning he finds his way back to you, and you let him off without question. Sooner or later will he even return anymore?

He bids you a gentle farewell for another day of work as you twirl a strand from his perm back into place, softly pecking his cheek before returning to your office. When he shuts the door back into its position, you make a sharp turn for the bathroom, digging through the hamper for any evidence of his travels. Part of you is seeping with noisiness, begging to discover what kind of truths he’s been hiding. Another side of you can’t believe you’d let yourself lose this much trust in him, someone you’ve spent years of memories with.

You pull out his attire from last night, slightly damp from sweating through never-ending dance practices. As you shake off his sweat pants a natural, floral-scented fragrance fills your senses, which has never been your go-to aroma.

Pondering further on your thoughts you place his clothing back into the dirty pile feeling more distressed than before. A small, dark object slips out of his pocket, catching your eye by the sink, and only until after it’s swatted away in a scream do you realize it had only been a false eyelash. Your eyes widen, crouching over its place on the tile floor as your hand covers your gasping mouth.

Never in your life had you touched a pair of false lashes, and your just about positive his members haven’t either.

~

That evening you sit yourself comfortably at the kitchen table, only hiding your growing anxieties from the situation jeonghans brought to your attention.

He enters through the door, lazily kicking off his shoes before making his way over to the leftovers you’d left for him. Sometimes. when he found himself too exhausted, he’ll resist the urge to give you a sign of affection, not wanting to throw his hangriness onto you.

“Do we have any glue, hannie?” you mention.

His eyebrows furrow, doe eyes widening as he turns to you with a chuckle.

“And what would you need glue for sweetheart?”

“How else am I supposed to stick these falsies on?” You question half ignorantly, and watch as all the color drains from his face in an instant.

He rushes to your side, kneeling beside the chair you angrily perched on.

“S-Sweeheart you need to listen to me-“

“What is there to listen to Jeonghan!” You rise from the table, hands fisting around the now-dry pair of lashes before they’re throw towards his face.

In the time you’ve loved Jeonghan, you’ve never seen your boyfriend break down this quickly. He’s already tearing up, explaining in muffled sobs how apologetic he is, how big of a mistake he’s been making.

“This comebacks’ preparation has been so draining, baby. I needed a breath of fresh air from my life!” His eyes grow swollen at the sight of you, tearing up with nothing but a stone-cold gaze from above him.

He couldn’t force you into complying to his pleasures. The idea of using you for his own wishes made him sick. A few months ago he’d stumbled upon a lesser-known bar with his close friend, who encouraged him inside in order to free his mind.

“I only spent a few nights at that club, was only there because he thought it’d get rid of my stress. I wouldn’t have to think about my career, or be burdened by the responsibilities I have to maintain each day.”

“What, like your responsibilities of being a truthful boyfriend? Your clothes smell like another woman’s perfume Jeonghan.”

The possibilities of where his hands have been, whom his lips might have touched is something that would haunt you for who knows how long, but that sliver of hope in your heart couldn’t help but appreciate his care for you, refraining from using you in any immature way. He’s never thought of you lowly, and never will. It’s why arguments with him are so hard to communicate through. His reasons jumble inside your head until you can’t decide whether to ridicule him, or kiss him senseless. No matter what he’s done, he always manages to make it up to you. A part of you wants to believe that this time he’ll do it again too.

You reach out your hand to him, as he poorly attempts to wipe his tears.

“You’ve have no idea how grateful I am for you, love. Thank you, Thank you with every bone in my body for giving me your hand again.”

You chuckle, extending your fingers out further.

“No, no. Give me your pair of keys back.”

[atley01]

This disability pride month, I'm left with conflicted feelings.

Whenever I post about disability-related things online, I always try to give my community optimism and hope. I know how much suffering can result from having health issues, and sometimes, you just need a break from dwelling on it. I want to provide fellow disabled people a break from the slippery slope of doom that dwelling can lead to.

But the more I do that, the more that I fear I'm showing an inaccurate representation of disability. That I am painting an image of disability to be something "struggle free all the time and nothing more than a 'unique character trait.'"

Being disabled isn't easy. You're living in a world not meant for you. And you get reminded of that every day. You might think its easier to mask if you're able to, but all that does is dig you into a deeper hole. Sure, I can suppress my tics. Sure, I can mask my autism. Sure, I can try my best to hide my POTS symptoms. I can act like my tinnitus isn't giving me headaches and making it difficult to function in society. I can act like my chronic pain isnt making me want to collapse to the floor. I can pretend I dont need a mobility aid.

Sometimes, though, you arent given the choice on if you hide it or not. And then that whole facade tumbles down. And you're left feeling a mix of embarrassment, shame, and anger. Embarrassed to be seen like that, shame that you may need help, and angry that your body did something against your will, again.

I started working 7 months ago. The first 3 months, I was so happy and proud of myself for being able to have the privilege of holding down a job. By the 4th month, I had some doubts about how long I could hold my job down. Here I am, 7 months in, and Im realizing yet again that I am not as able-bodied as I expected myself to be. The thought that I may have to find a less physically demanding job terrifies me. I feel immense shame for struggling to handle a part-time job physically.

I think what really solidified this for me was when I passed out at my job last month. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but the fact of the matter is I blacked out, and I didn't get to decide I "wasn't going to." That scared me. Or maybe what solidified it for me was when my tinnitus prevented me from being able to understand customers and coworkers. Maybe it was when I had to mask and suppress a tic attack to the best of my ability. Maybe it was when I touched something that triggered my sensory issues, and I was simply too busy to regulate myself, so I had to spend my time dissociating to forget the feeling.

When you're young and you're disabled, it's difficult to be taken seriously. People think you're being dramatic, or they think its something you're doing to be causing all the health problems. "Have you tried changing your diet?" / "It's growing pains." / "Your leg hurts? Did you bang it on something?" / "Give it a few days. You'll feel better." The search for accommodation and validity is made even harder when doctors refuse to listen. Sadly, the medical system is not immune to being abelist. You can't request accommodations if doctors document you as able-bodied.

I have never claimed to be a voice for my community. I am a voice for nobody but myself. Maybe in sharing my Expirences, someone else can feel less alone. Or maybe this is unique to me alone.

Am I proud to be disabled?

I think that in some ways, yes. I am proud of what I have accomplished in spite of my health. I am proud that I have found tools to manage my health. I am proud to say I am a part of an amazing community such as the disabled community, and I am proud of what we've accomplished.

I dont think I am proud of the abelism, shame, or pain through. Im not sure anyone could be. If you are, I truly envy you. I am proud that despite the pain, I push forward. But I wonder if that's an unhealthy habit to encourage. To push my limits and ignore my body, screaming at me to give it rest.

This disability pride month, Im reflecting on my health and how it affects me, and taking the time to be patient with myself. Because Im doing all that I can, I do not need to hold myself to the standards that able-bodied people are held to. That is an impossible standard for me to reach.

Im going to celebrate the small victories. This time last year, I was passing out multiple times a week, and I overall had more tic attacks. Now, my fainting has been almost non-existent, and my tic attacks- while they do still happen - have noticeably been less frequent.

If you made it this far, please be kind to yourself, and happy disability pride month. You are allowed to be upset by the things your disability puts you through. You're doing the best you can. I see you, and Im proud of you.

[hexcryingwolf]

im sorry but talking about if they should bother being nice to you then complaining about how youll convince yourself if it isnt genuine? as if the fact that they are all debating if you should be given kindness doesnt show that they dont care; as if you deserve it as is implied by they all think you dont when talking about how youre "dangerous" and ranting about wanting to get verbally abusive by yelling at you ????? the conversation they have about if you should be given kindness from friends out of fear that it wont be seen as "genuine" and thinking that it would actually be genuine if they did comfort you???? its?? they are talking about how they genuinely dont want to help you? and then despairing about how if they try to help you wont think they are being genuine? only to start talking about wanting to get angry at you for being hurt by their actions? talking about responding to you being hurt by trying to hurt you even more??

im sorry if this sounds weird im just genuinely confused how anyone couldnt see all that as a red flag outside of just ignoring and lying about your story to defend all of them

no i get it its a tangle and the reason i still think about it so much after all this time is because every now and then my brain notices something that i didnt realize before. its like every now and then a layer peels off of revealing a brand new level of bullshit

its hard for me to follow their (the flora inner circle not just glip) thought process because my brain doesnt jump through a million hoops to turn "we should comfort our friend in crisis" to "we should yell at our friend in crisis"

this is what ended up happening btw

when they talk about how annoying it was to have to re-add me because i had a panic attack and removed them. they didnt even end up yelling at me but i wonder if it satisfies them to know this hurt me very, very badly. then the comic about me dropped not long after

and youve pointed out a new layer to me anon; the fact that they didnt genuinely care about me but were making it my fault if i didnt believe their care was genuine?

this was in response to my first attempt to cut everyone from flora out of my life. i wish they could have just left me alone instead of digging their hooks in. why did they even do that if i was so terrible?

[welcome-to-green-hills]

This is fellow archeologist! I finally worked up the courage to dm you (anxiety and shyness, my eternal curse), but it says you only accept messages from tumblrs you follow. My sonic blog is @navy-the-tiger but you dont have to follow I am fine talking like this

Also I totally wasn't weird and scrolled through your entire archeologist tag. Feel you so much on being frustrated with the way archeology is portrayed in media. Rarely accurate, often a romanticized depiction of the early, unethical forms of archeology... It hurts every time.

Also hearing about your job was super interesting! My dig (I have only been on one so far, a field school dig and internship that got me le certificate) was on the property of a house constructed between 1800 and 1810. Boss had to teach us what to do if we found any native american artifacts which was basically stop everything immediately, contact the local rep for either the organization you work for or something super similar to it, and essentially the dig would be over.

Also I really wanted to be a museum curator too! I've had to accept over the past few years that chronic illness means I'll never be able to hold a typical job, but I still love love love it. I was going to get a PhD in mineralogy and specialize in that kind if curation, but now sinking all that time and money when I will be unemployed sounds like a bad idea. Seeing someone else living my dream even if it isnt the same field and getting to hear about it is so heartwarming.

So sorry for rambling so much I just have many thoughts

Navy! It’s wonderful to finally meet with you. Hello! I’m so happy that you’re here! Welcome to Green Hills, your home away from home.❤️✨

I’m very happy that you’ve found my anthropology/archaeology posts enjoyable to read. Sometimes there’s rambling, other times it’s a clash between science and game characters. It’s fun! Archaeology is very (and this is me being polite) romanticized through vast forms of media. And because it’s very romanticized it gets a bit complicated to do my job. I am, however, very appreciative of those that ask questions about what we do—they want to know. I encourage curiosity.

Oooo! The dig that you’ve been on sounds very exciting! It’s interesting to hear that Indigenous artefacts were uncovered at the household. My curiosity is at an all time high. Fortunately for me and my team, we work under NAGPRA (Native American Graves Protection & Repatriation Act). We honor requests and always make sure to have representatives of each community working with us. It’s fun work!

Unfortunately, I am not a curator. I do wish to be a curator one day. I’m both a researcher and collections assistant. When I’m not doing field work (my region of the USA calls them “dirt archaeologists”), I work side-by-side with many curators to manage collections. It’s like an assistant manager. My job requires me to understand customs, languages, ethics, it’s history, and much more on what collections I’m working on. This actually does not require a PhD, but it’s preferred. The work I do can be easily accomplished with an AA, AS, BA, BS, MA, and/or an MS. As long as you have a mentor that is thrilled to work with you, then it can be achieved. Traditionally, archaeological collections that require a curator require their managers to have a PhD. I’m noticing more and more that those traditions are changing, but it’s a good thing. It’s allowing new ideas and voices to come and share insight on what they do. I’m very fortunate to have worked with my mentors for as long as I have. They will always have a special place in my heart.

What I’m trying to say through my rambling is this: don’t lose hope. Your dreams are possible. I believe in you. If you are a United States citizen and interested in furthering your education, please don’t hesitate to reach out. Universities, colleges, and community colleges have tons of programs and resources that help students achieve their dreams. If you are interested in managing collections, I highly encourage reaching out to museums FIRST and then a learning institution. Some museums may even help you with schooling and give you the foundation needed before going to school. You may never know! And if you have questions, ask me! This is what I’m here for. I’m more than happy to supply guidance.

Never apologize for rambling about your passions. Never. I’m always happy to hear them. It was wonderful to meet you, I hope that you have a fantastic day!❤️✨

[angel---eater]

both june and roxy struggle *immensely* with compcis. i could write an entire essay abt how roxy started with almost obnoxiously cisfemininine imagery that he clung to hard but then was so much happier after transitioning to void blue im ngl. roxy fuckin bloomed after godtiering. the colour thing isnt a 1-to-1 match for every character obviously, i mean, dave is right there going from red to... more red. but theres a ton of stuff to dig into for both a transfem and/or a transneutral read of him (davepeta thriving for one as a half olive-blood, a femme-coded colour in hs1, and exclusively using they/them) (better example i think would be vriska going from one femme-coded colour to another in cerulean to light-aspect yellow, and the general consensis on her being transfem coded**). but i cant help but notice a distinct and matching signifigance to colour + gender and struggling either with themselves or with their aspect with roxy and june

june's shirt symbol being jade's green, but then as she goes through the story shes taken over by blue (god tiering), and her dissonance/dissociation with herself and her life in candy. shes just not happy. her life in candy was great at the start and she loves her partner and son, she loves being a parent, but theres a continual feeling of emptyness and Wrongness that imo goes beyond (bdum tiss) her usual brand of dissociation. losing her father but trying to fit into his shoes with fatherhood and all the suits. something just isnt right. roxy brings this up HERSELF in candy in hsbc, and june just kinda glazes over it. yaint right june!! something needs to change and the something is you! she hasnt embraced her aspect completely yet and she needs to

roxy's everything being COVERED in pink. the desperation for a boyfriend (his crush on dirk, also being very obviously interested in jake, the only boys he knows). trying so hard to connect to his mom but failing until he actually meets rose. the continual lalondian misunderstanding of each other. being introduced to blue through godtiering and stumbling through it (trying and failing to recreate the matriorb until hes quite literally in his element), feeling that maybe its an awkward fit, until finally getting to explore himself in meat (and candy, but in a slightly different direction). he has embraced his aspect completely and that has changed him for the better

roxy seems to thrive when hes on his own - not isolated like how he was pre-game, but at peace with it. just calm and quiet, peaceful and in his element (aspect). june hasnt had that yet. i dont think we know what that looks like for her yet, cause she hasnt found it

so much of homestuck is about actively watching these characters. its MEANT to be voueyristic. we as the reader are put in a distinct (and literal in a meta/literary sense) 'watching through the window' position. we're supposed to watch these characters grow and transition from state to state. sometimes in a non-trans way, but sometimes very VERY much in a trans way. im not surprised at all that june was planned and im wondering how long roxy's route was planned too

i think in particular for trans characters in hs, embracing your aspect is KEY. watching the trans character embrace their aspect is key

**if anyone has any specifically transfem meta/analysis for vriska please send it my way because i keep feeling like ive missed something major there. idk whether its a general gap bc i cant pick up on really specific lived experiences that i just, yknow, wont live. i just havent actually seen a lot digging into this in canon. which to my own mind even sounds fuckin crazy but also i dont usually pay as much attention to vriska when it comes to my own meta/analysis. so much of her is already super plain to see and right on the page for me that i dont actually have to dig very far for my own reading. like she full on just tells us whats going on with her a lotta the time. Understanding Vriska[tm] and her problems like this isnt a badge of honor but it does come in useful lmao

regardless, reading the epilogues and HSBC is ESSENTIAL for understanding june egbert and what both hussie and the current writing team are putting down for her. being trans is part of her heros jouney, like for real her egg cracking NEEDS to happen for her to truly become a fully realized heir of breath. shes supposed to embody change, but she hasnt actually changed yet. not like how roxy has truly become a rogue of void and shaped himself from both 'everything' (binary gender) and 'nothing' (gender outside of binary). june can completely dissapate herself into the wind around her but cant quite break outta that shell yet. who KNOWS what she could do as an heir of breath after having this realization

[orchidyoonkook]

OMG STEPH??? MY GUY??? MY ABSOLUTE LEGEND?? Literally honoured you even bothered to read let alone leave this masterpiece a review??? Like I'm literally shocked and blown away all at once. <<<3333

Lemme dig in!

OMG YOON???

This was seriously one of THE BEST Yoongi fics I’ve ever read.

Well I can die happy now. It's been wild Y'all 🫡🫡

(omg tysm holyshit)

The descriptions, the world building, the way you gave us enough info to understand their story but also left us hanging and wanting to know more. Their banter??? Absolute peak humor. Insulting the devil has never really been on my bucket list but if he’s the devil?? I might be willing to take a chance…

*sobbing while I speak* I.. *sniffs* thank you. Literally have no other words thank profound gratitude.

I try my best with world building, it's a super fun part of writing for me!! So I'm so glad it comes through to the readers.

And their banter gives me life!!! Reader seriously isnt afraid to one up Yoongi at his own game and I livveee foorrr ittttttt.

and he'd be willing to give you a chance, I'm just sayin

No idea how she managed to control herself for that long cuz I sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to. I love how she finally gave in and decided she deserved him.

ME. EITHER. Reader has the willpower of a god or something because damn girl. And me too. I love that she finally had the moment she needed to be like, "fuck everyone and their mothers opinions, including my own. This is mine now."

And ACKKK of course the fluff at the end??? HES SO 🫠🫠 even the devil has his moments and I was SCREECHING over how freaking adorable he was.

!!!!!!! OMG YAY!!!!! I thought it was so sweet he was ready and comfortable enough in his emotions to be that vulnerable with her. I think it helped cement knowing her decision was the right one!

And don’t even get me started on the smut??? LIKE WTF WAS THAT?? 10/10 recommend dancing with the devil if this is what happens after!!!???

Taking a page from Ryens book, Aha 🫣🫣 and now the weather!

but no really, this is such a comforting thing to hear cuz i was so worried about it. Like butterflies in my tummy, sweating palms nervous. Cuz smut is somethng you can screw up so easily and it was only like the third time I'd ever properly written smut, and my first full scene and so in my head im screaming and running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, but the response to it has been so overwhelmingly positive that I have no words. Just stunned, eternal gratitdue. So truly from the bottom of my heart: THANK. YOU. This makes all the panicking worth it. <<33

YOON I AM IN SHOCK. Like seriously this was so fucking good. I loved it so much. I caught myself holding my breath so many times just because I needed to know what was gonna happen next. Saving this so I never lose it and can reread to my heart’s content. 🥰🥰🥰

You're in shock?? IM in shock??? You read my little story and you liked it?!!!!! Enough to leave me the most wonderful review?? Like im gone, dead, deceased, floating.

I'm so so so so so happy you enjoyed their story cuz I sure as hell had fun writing it. and youre saving it too??? RE-READING???? Yeah the cry corners looking way to damn dry, brb, gotta replenish.

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino  

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 

Intimate. That would be a better choice. 

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts. 

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty. 

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, is ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung! 

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing. 

You just lost all your tips for the night. 

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 

Fuck. 

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know. 

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it. 

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 

No one serves him but you. 

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath. 

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased. 

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 

No one calls the Devil by his first name. 

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 

No one except you. 

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 

The King of Hell. 

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him. 

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 

And maybe he is. 

But not to you. 

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 

Yoongi. 

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 

And he looks like sin incarnate. 

Fitting. 

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you. 

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”  

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate. 

“Yes.” 

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 

Beautiful. 

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait— 

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly. 

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 

You’ve decided. 

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 

And apparently neither does Yoongi. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 

You trust Yoongi. 

“That's a good girl.” 

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?” 

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 

You’re the most powerful person here. 

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact. 

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you. 

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 

Perfect in every single way. 

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 

Not yet. 

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 

Ever.  

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 

There was only you. 

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He existed only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming. 

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 

It’s yours. 

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?” 

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.” 

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 

You just know it. 

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 

You never expected anything like that. 

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 

Because of you.  

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that. 

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 

He was yours now. 

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[forbidden-x-tree-mist]

September 7, 2023

“You can’t go back to the past just because it is familiar.”

But what do you do when all the boundaries of present and the future blur themselves into this difficult shade of blue you can’t decode. What do you do when you would just do anything to go back to that part of your life where at least something is familiar to you. Moreover, what do you do when the present does not work, the future is bleak and you don’t remember any even a single worthwhile memory to hold on to your past for.

It all feels like damn damn labyrinth, i was out of it for sometime and I really believed that i was, but now that all this has started again, was i really ever out of it? No! Some of us are really trapped inside ourselves, in our own lives and it is the toughest thing to make the people understand what we really feel at that point of time. A few days ago my friend texted me that she needs a cigarette really bad (has been trying to avoid them), i called her up and was like dude dont go down that street, but really it was so easy for me to say that. And she did tell me how i would never understand how she felt. A few hours ago i did something terrible too, as Frost would put it I took the wrong road, I took a way i knew too well, too well to even know that it was the wrong one. But right now while im writing this even im not able to imagine let alone understand what was i feeling then.

Today just happens to be one of those bad days you know, which start bad and keep getting worse and all you can do is to wait, wait for time to pass and heal all that has been eroded. I remember writing in my diary once that how, “We have all slept for nights, after which we never wished to wake up again.” Today is really one of those nights, and I do wonder that how shall it pass, but ik it will, because Shakespeare said no, “This too shall pass.” But does it really matter what Shakespeare said when he can’t feel what im feeling, and are his words but really helping me? Are my own words really helping me for that sake? Will I get over the guilt of doing what I just did and like that? Will I ever be happy? Will my words really make sense anyday?

Will i have the answers to these spirals that run down in my head?

John Green said that, “What you need to understand about me is that I’m a deeply unhappy person.” Was Green talking about me when he wrote this, i dont know. But what Ive sort of slightly understood is that my grief has become so much entwined with who i am as a person that i somehow am not really ready for it to leave me. I remember reading this post on Instagram where this person asks his friend that are we really willing to let go off our grief? I guess im never going to do that, what i have felt during my low times is something i wish to carry through my highs, for i shall always remember how far Ive come.

I really was on the good track from some days/months ago, i started to adore myself like i have never done before, but today it feels like i did away with everything with just some (8) blows. It’s like literally i took the sharpest edge of the screwdriver and dig it in my skin. Sometimes there’s so much going on in my head that i really wish it to get out through inflicting pain upon my body, like really. It goes so hard that i get an adrenaline rush from harming myself, and want to see myself more hurt after that.

i have cursed my skin a lot, a lot in the damn twenty years i have spent on this planet but today i do really feel bad for it, for i have inflicted more pain on it, than it really deserved. But isn’t life unfair to me too like that inflicting more pain on me than i deserve, than i really can take, isnt life unfair too!?

I remember this person in college I telling people how i was all about money and good clothes, i wish she could see this side of things as well. But haven’t all of us at some point of times in our lives been like her only, ignoring what the other person feels just due to the look they put out for us too see, dont we too often feel like how other people get it easy in their lives, but really are any of us getting it any easy than each other? I feel we are too broken for a generation to be. But aren’t we also broken because we were raised by a generation which was broken too? Is this world really so broken, is it as broken as my skin is, but is my skin more broken or my heart, or my poetry.

Is it a competition for being the most broken?

(Will i win)

- N

[fraener]

3/10/23

the days have been getting incrementally longer. im having some kind of allergic reaction to something in my house, i think. i texted ian today. i dont think hell respond, but i dont think i really mind too much. i can feel flashes of that spring still imprinted in the light and the movement of my heart and the sound of robins and goldfinches. i cut my hair a little strange, but ive been feeling stranger. im finding where my heart settles with h slowly. theres so much in me questioning and probing and posing different things- are there really so many different kinds of love? is it really ok to feel this way and stay in the relationship? i feel exhausted and lonely again. such is the way of winter. but it feels good to not be hurt by my companion, it feels good to be seen and loved tenderly and to be respected. ive been hurt by feeling overlooked and underestimated and misunderstood lately, too. the redcurrant is blooming, the smell like lemon balm and raspberries thick in the air. i wonder about my heart, though. its been a long time since i laughed for real. its been a long time since i felt much of anything other anger or sorrow. i feel myself trying to come back to the garden of my life, to tend and pull the weeds and sow new seeds. the sunlight is yellow and warm. the birds are singing in the mornings, the clouds are rolling through in rhythm thick and dark and charming with occasional thunderclaps and rain. i feel very lonely. el is back in town but ive only seen her once, briefly. she was blushing and i was too. it was sort of awkward and tense in the room. im pacing circles in my heart around ian, though. im really so in love with that snapshot of sensation i had that spring two years ago. the heat, the dark green and thick air of my apartment, the blinding sun the afternoon we met. the purr of his car in the dark, the way he carried me to bed, drinking cold infused lemon balm and rose and mint tea, the feeling of his hair in my fingers, the lilt and reed of his voice, nasally. part of my heart frozen in those moments. wish my heart would come back to me. my heart and i know he isnt it- isnt all, but he acts as the stepping stone back to there. in the same way simon is my sweet stepping stone and i his, we step on each other all the time. i spoke with him on the phone the other day and like always no time had passed. i love him and hate him. we pretend not to string each other on but i can hear it every time we talk, the way we fit together exists in a bigger pattern than just the physical or this place in time. i think the thing im missing is beauty. the city is so beautiful. everything ian gave me, even the emotional welts, was so beautiful. i think i want someone to make me crazy again because the states of dysregulation are states of release. it makes sense for me. i want to be violently disarmed by the mountains again, i want to be caught off guard and driven to tears by a stormy inlet, i want to my kissed over and over by the wind and rain. i want to feel the mud between my feet and eat the earth on the back of a nettle leaf. i know hes imaginary, my ian. like the dead he has become mythological and monolithic inside of me. wondrous how we can create someone over and over, their fiction becomes as real as anyone else, after departure or death. i think i need to do some digging about why i dont want to see h. i might just be tired and need some time to myself from him. i wonder my heart goes in and out of the romance with him, its strange. i felt terrible about it but ill admit when i was in the room with el he faded away. if he and i split i think i wont want a serious committed relationship for a long while again. i sort of dont want one now but im afraid of what his jealousy will do through him. everything would be easier if he had more people in his life. well get there. el is moving into a beautiful new house with a huge garden. i wonder if its the bottle house, since its in french loop. im very excited to get back in the dirt. and i get to see emma tonight so everything will get a lot better. i think everything with h would be resolved if i was just spending more time alone and time more with other people- i want to feel truly excited to see him. i also wish hed talk more, i like him best when i get him in flashes of conversation. different sort of hard to access from previous loves but not a dissimilar effect on me. im itching to turn the house over for spring.

[crispyjenkins]

@malcontent-crow

#i love the direction this is going!#i woke up to this treat and now i have to go to work and think about it all day #i an CHEWING on my PHONE#i wasnt expecting mand'alor Obi-Wan but i gotta say he would certainly do the job!#truly chosen by the people to lead#i love the idea that everybody knows about the rebellion that he has caused before he does #also the idea that Qui-Gon and Satine are just stumbling along in his wake and seeing in real time the kind of movement he is inspiring#how Qui-Gon is thinking in terms of the Young for his wartime experience but Obi-Wan is thinking much bigger picture#how does Qui-Gon take the rumor of being a Mand'alor of old reincarnate? which rumor does he hear first?#how many times does he need to hear people say it before it stops sounding like a silly thing these mandos are saying#and it actually gains some traction in his mind? #if the council doesnt think it was a vision does the idea that hes been possessed by some ghost that can no longer stand to see#the direction Mandalore was going in? how frantically is Madam Nu digging through the archives to see if there is any precedent for this#and if Obi-Wan isnt using his saber how is he fighting? has he resorted to guns or did he find a beskad somewhere??#if they are remarking that he is helmet-less does that mean he is wearing armor otherwise? #and i feel like jango would know about this new faction and this upcoming leader and really sits back and says something like#“looks like you have it under control. why do you think you need me?” and justify it to himself that he isnt Mand'alor anymore#he would be still all bitter and unwilling to bend or even consider healing at this point#so hes thinking in terms of what his time as Mand'alor ended up like#and how his last actions as Mand'alor resulted in the deaths of his (entire?) comoany of True Mandalorians #and how quickly does this make Obi-Wan change gears? does he accept that he's the inspiration behind this rebellion#and accept the role of Mand'alor as others are trying to give him?#or does he step back and think maybe he just needs to do something like kill Pre Vizsla to get them moving on the right track without him?

@fearieshadow

#I am screaming#I love this#once the council realizes that mandalorians are calling on obi-wan to be mand’alor#I wonder how they respond#especially since this is already a bizarre situation#and very likely the force around obi wan is probably doing some crazy stuff#how is satine taking this?#she’s definitely not ruling over mandalor after this#the people wouldn’t accept her with another option available besides her and death watch#it’s inevitable that obi wan ends up adopted as mand’alor especially considering mandalorian culture#the question is who succeeds?

hope work was good!! here's more to think about 🧡 (/evil intent)

first! yeah, Obi is wearing his stollen/won-through-combat DW armour (the state of its paint is actually important in how he identifies exactly where in the timeline he is, but i'll explain that in the actual fic), and doesn't use his 'saber so all the Mandalorians aren't clocking him as one of the Jedi the New Mandos hired or whatever; most assume he's already Mando'ad. he still has his 'saber, but it's one he outgrew while on Melida/Daan, so it's even worse now that he's 38 and a high general, so he doesn't use it for that reason as well as to keep his identity a secret. but he's not very well going to leave it behind, so a few of the Mandos he's helped on the way have seen it hidden on his belt or in his things; most assume he killed one of the New Mandalorian's Jedi, but then the idea of reincarnation starts gaining traction and they start to wonder if the 'saber actually belongs to him.

second! oh boy would Qui not be taking that idea well. except for the Chosen One Prophecy of Nonsense, he's very much a Living Force Jedi, and at this point in time hasn't done his whole Force Ghost research or whatever. Maybe in this timeline, it's this that pushes him to look into it in the first place? maybe he only learns the Chosen One Prophecy of Nonsense later in life? so at first, he's sort of rolling his eyes at all these Mandos saying his padawan is a reincarnated warlord, no matter which Mand'alor they think he's incarnating. Then the Tarre Vizsla theory starts picking up more and more and suddenly Qui-Gon isn't so sure. Tarre had been a Jedi, and left the Order to become Mand'alor, maybe Tarre had Fallen, had become a Sith? Sith were known for being obsessed with immortality, were the only example of Force Ghosts in the first place. Oh Stars, has his padawan Fallen? become an unwilling or willing puppet of a Sith ghost? Qui remembers the first thing Satine said to him after Obi-Wan dropped her off, that Obi-Wan had been acting possessed.

when he expresses his concern to the Council, they're skeptical at best. Qui-Gon is somewhat known for his flights of fancy, and is working on the same amount of information that the council is, which is to say: next to none. they tell him to cool his heels, especially since they don't think Qui-Gon has the best idea of what to actually look for in a Fallen Jedi, and has unresolved Xanatos trauma. Qui-Gon gets all bristly about that, because he's fine, and knows his padawan better than anyone. maybe the council had brought Tholme in for this holocall so they'd have a Shadow's perspective on this whole Sith-thing, and Tholme just fuckin. snorts so hard at that it probably hurts and is like "the fuckin healers know your padawan better than you do. We know you're trying, and making good progress, but all things considered, you're not there yet. A Shadow will have a better idea of if he's Fallen or possessed by a Sith artefact or other, and one of his friends would have a better idea if he's acting completely out of character."

"Sound like suggesting you and your padawan go to Mandalore, you do."

"Well, I wouldn't say no."

For now, the council holds off, considering how fraught the system is at the moment, and even undercover, they aren't sure if they should be risking two more Jedi, especially one as reckless as Quinlan would be to try and find Obi-Wan. Madam Nu does indeed bury herself in the Archives, looking into Sith ghosts and possession techniques, but also to see any info they have on Tarre Vizsla and if he might have Fallen or been a Sith. it sounds downright unlikely to her, but the council also just. has no idea what to make of Obi-Wan, so any theory is worth exploring.

Satine is. she is not taking this all well. she'd been trying for so long to sway Obi-Wan to her side, and genuinely thought she could convince him her way was right, but then he suddenly changed, and their "debates" have become Obi-Wan dissecting and tearing down every one of her arguments, when he even takes the time to engage. they'd had maybe two weeks together before Obi-Wan dropped her off with Qui-Gon, and during that time, she'd been forced to realise Obi-Wan was only humouring her before. oh, he's still kind to a fault, giving her more than her share of food, keeping watch so she can sleep, protecting her with a sincere fervency. but now she feels like a child around him, like she can't do anything but try and keep up with him, like he's suddenly been given a purpose outside of her and she. doesn't know how to deal with that.

worse, he's actually killing some of his opponents, where he'd never done that before, even when it had cost them physically, leaving them with injuries or without a clean escape. he isn't killing everyone, or indiscriminately, and he always seems to mourn the ones he does kill, but this shift in his fighting style, too, had felt like it changed at the flip of a switch. before, he'd used shoddy hand-to-hand and hand blasters set to stun. now, he uses rifles and a staff he'd fashioned from a bit of piping (you'll take polearm-wielding obi-wan from my cold dead hands), and also a static dagger Satine had given him early in their acquaintance, that she'd intended him to use for utility (i'll give more backstory for this in the fic, i have some ideas). the dagger is what he'd used to kill the DW patrol they'd been fighting when he first landed back in time. he'd been a good fighter, before, but had still had that ungainly teenage clumsiness, especially with weapons he wasn't used to using (he'd pretended he wasn't as good with blasters as he was, both in shame around Satine, but also because it was connected to Melida/Daan and he wanted to think about literally anything else); now, he's years ahead in skill, and unafraid of confrontation. he avoids it where he can, of course, but only because it's safer for Satine, and Satine clocks this change, knows he's suddenly confident in his martial prowess in a way he just wasn't before.

stumbling along chasing Obi-Wan down with Qui-Gon, Satine feels her control of the system slipping, she sees it happening. she digs her heels in, of course, tries to talk this rebellion out of happening at all, but all it does is make people resent her and her people even more, and eventually Qui-Gon has to tell her to stop, because they are very much at the mercy of people being willing to shelter them, and she's pissing off just about everyone she talks to. it's a bit of a wakeup call for her, and she just sort of. wilts. becomes depressed rather than righteously angry, and wonders if undermining her had always been Obi-Wan's intention. she hopes not. she misses him.

MEANWHILE. meanwhile Jango has basically called himself dar'manda, has said he's no good for Mandalore nor does he want to be good for Mandalore, hasn't he given enough? and Obi-Wan knows he can't make that call for him, for anyone.

Rozatta shows him what little has escaped the Mandalore sector about the rebellion, that won't call themselves True Mandalorians anymore, but are as close as they've come since Jaster Mereel's death a decade before. so much info is kept on lockdown, but Obi-Wan can read between the lines, can track his own progress through Mandalorian space and realise it had followed him like a wave, and. well. hadn't he already decided he was saving Mandalore? hadn't he already dedicated himself to this cause since the moment he woke in the past?

for just a moment, he considers if he can join the rebellion and make someone else that something that they can all follow. can make someone else the face and head of the rebellion. Obi-Wan needs to stay alive to take down the Sith and hopefully prevent the galactic war from ever starting, it would be pretty stupid of him to make himself the face of this insurrection—

but the Mand'alor is chosen by the people. Isn't it in the name? Soul Ruler?

so here's Obi-Wan. sixteen and thirty-eight, stranded on Outland Station with his plan to save Mandalore in shambles, and he takes the time to think about it. what does Mandalore want? and they seem to want their Little Mand'alor, he can feel it in the Force, in the Manda, in the Ka'ra (and all three do feel distinctly different from each other, but i'll get to that in-fic heuheuheu). who is he to deny them that?

he thanks Roz by name though she'd never told him it, steals a different, faster ship, and goes back to Mandalore without Jango but with a Mand'alor all the same, if the people will have him.

and the people will have him.

Qui-Gon had at some point realised Obi-Wan had left the system, which makes even less sense than anything he's done so far. Not only does he not think Obi-Wan would ever leave him behind in danger, but it also just. doesn't track, with everything he'd been doing for Mandalore so far? makes Qui concerned about those Sithly machinations but he's trying to convince himself that he's just trigger-happy about darksider stuff. but what else is he supposed to think?

hyperspace travel is dictated by exactly what you need for the plot, so i say two weeks round trip for obi-wan to get back to Mandalore. the rebellion is only just on its first legs, but Pre is cracking down on insurgence with more and more violent methods, which is only radicalising his dissenters. parts of Jaster's old council and the few close to Jango that weren't on Galidraan (Kal Skirta, Walon Vau, Silas, etc. Will probably not do Mij in any major capacity since I am trying to make this different from Dha Kar'ta, and Myles is definitely dead. will need to make a butt ton of women Mandos hmm) start to form like some actual leadership and oooh now i'm thinking about the tension~ of all these folks that followed Jango worrying about how young the people's new chosen leader is, 'cause fuck they love Jango, and he did keep the Haat'ade going ten years after Jaster's death, but they also know intimately how it ended.

then Obi-Wan tracks them down using a mix of traditional skills and listening to the Manda, and maybe some Ka'ra ghosts if i'm feeling particularly funky, and the group of Mandos I'll be calling the Old Guard have to contend with this little general that looks sixteen, but acts so much older. and Obi-Wan has to contend seeing the faces of many of the trainers of the clones, some he would have given thanks to be the one to take their heads from their shoulders, but they haven't actually committed those sins yet.

and hoooooo boy you know Qui's gonna have some issues when it gets out that Obi-Wan is both back in the system, and also leading the rebellion. he must be having Xanatos flashbacks out the whazoo, but also the Force is feckin singing about it, it wraps around Obi-Wan in truly bizarre but oh so comforting ways, it ebbs and flows with him like he's some sort of gravitational anomaly in the tides of the Force, and he's just so Light that Qui-Gon just. can't believe he's Fallen. but what else is he supposed to think?

the council are rightly horrified, but so so confused by how the Force has been acting lately, especially around Obi-Wan and his future, and they're thinking of kicking Sifo-Dyas off the council purely because he sits in the corner giggling whenever Obi-Wan is brought up.

as for adoption............. i think it'd be funny if he's adopted by a Ka'ra ghost, especially if their clan has died out by now. WHEEZE it'd be SO FUNNY if he's adopted by the ghost of Cassus Fett. like fuckin imagine.

*white-knuckled and grinding teeth* do not start a time travel fic where obi-wan lands near the beginning of his mandalore mission. do not think about him landing mid-battle with a death watch patrol he struggled with by virtue of being sixteen and run ragged, do not think about him freezing mid-attack and being flooded with future memories and satine freaking out and the death watch commando gets a few hits in but then obi-wan unfreezes and fucking obliterates the commandos. do not think about how disturbed satine is, how obi-wan can suddenly move in his stollen death watch armour like he was born in it, how he looks down at his saber like an old friend he no longer gets along with, how he barely looks at satine when he says they’re going back to mandalore to keldabe. crispy im serious dont think about him single-handedly raiding death watch's main holdout in the keldabe ruins and stealing all the info pre vizsla had about galidraan and using it to track down jango and forcing/convincing him to come back to mandalore to end the clan wars crispy im serious you don’t have time to write this stop thinking ab

[appareils-futiles]

I took off all notifications and deactivated my Facebook and my Instagram and logged out. I also took down my Twitter and my TikTok. I'm in the process of deleting emails and unsubbing from newsletters. I've updated my planner and am even considering doing a mass cleansing of my Pinterest. I gave everyone from 10am to 1pm EST to follow me on @cavortinginmoonlight or ask for my number but hey it is what it is. I actually was on the train when I posted that time frame and gave them until after 2pm when I got home. I'm kinda over all this. I crave the easiness of the 90s and the simplicity of the 2000s. Day one of the dot com era, Hasan Minhaj said that social media is a killer and as someone that had the majority of their first 18 years of their lives pre social media (unless you count tumblr which I don't) and didn't have a smart phone until she was 24, many years after smart phones became a thing--the first IPhone didn't come out until I was out of HS! It was blackberry and sidekicks and of course at that point to a lesser extent, razr phones!)

But I remember when MySpace and Facebook and Twitter could only be accessed through a computer! Such simpler times. Hasan says that he thinks we should go back to that, where we still have SM but only use it on computers, because having it 24/7 at our fingertips is too much. It takes away from the simplicity of life. From legitimate interactions with other people in person. Is it really spending time if you're sitting on your phone, next to that person and they are doing it to? We should be able to go on dates, hang out with friends, visit people in hospitals, go on vacations and raise our kids without throwing our business through the cables of the nether world for our family and truthfully (mostly) complete strangers to enjoy and hate on. We can't complain about people being all up in our business, talking smack about us, spreading rumors/gossiping or even coming up with shit if we give them all the ammo to do it.

We decide what we present to people not just with our looks but with our words, our expressions and how we treat one another. So we get off social media, we get our business off there as best we can, but will that keep the naysayers and haters from doing their thing? No. Haters and Nay-sayers are just that, haters and naysayers, unfortunately they will always exist no matter if you refuse them their fix of ammo or kick them out of your lives. The truth is, once you do it. They lose their hold over you, it's kinda like rehab. In a sense. You put an addict in rehab and they'll get whatever treatment they get and eventually get off the drug, it's out of their system, but the drug isnt the problem, or even access to it, or other addicts around them who may supply or make it hard for them to live cleanly, it's their sheer willpower to stay off the drug that's gonna keep them from using again (that was my terrible metaphor, so don't come for me in the replies because I will block you)

So if you cut off the haters/naysayers ammo, cut off their access to you, even in person, they'll either forget you (hopefully) or spread fake shit about you. But at that point, you either won't know about it because you don't fuck with them anymore, or you will and genuinely won't care. Shit, you may even get a giggle from the crazy shit you'll hear about yourself! Whatttt?? I'm doing "whatt? Why me didn't tell me I'm a cokehead?!" 😂😂 Take notice that not everyone around you is like this. But there's a difference between paranoid and being careful. Dig deep within yourself because there's someone wonderful in there and if you have the attention span of a TikTok and crave the attention of people for clout, take a step back and remember, you're a person........that's the machine. I was going somewhere with this. I swear. The point is this: Detach, even for a little while, just to get yourself together, in your head, in your heart, in your soul, in your finances and everything in between. The Matrix was a documentary and the Machine they talk about in Person of Interest is 100% real. This I confirmed when I was getting rid of Facebook and they had something on there I never shared on social media and that was just very creepy.

I'll be on tumblr. That's about it. Lenii

[wh6res]

one more time | markhyuck

"if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you’re gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" — lhc 

warnings. dubious content, swearing, bondage, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, mentions of stalking, fingering, oral (f receiving), degradation, there’s a knife (but no knifeplay), a threesome, implied kidnapping 

disclaimer. i dont condone anything. this isnt a normal relationship. this aint love.

note. prolly going to hell for this but who cares. markhyuck for @nakamotocore​ i wuv ya ie please get better soon! TT and dom hyuck for my napaka kalat na mami @donghyukcore​

against all rational thinking, haechan is getting bored from seeing the pathetic five feet distance between you and mark when he comes home. he tries to understand the other male in the relationship. truly, he does, even if he highly doubts that celibate little mark lee can pleasure you the way he can but everything's practically past that line now. donghyuck just wants to have some fun with you two, is that too much to ask for? at this point, he's blatantly ignoring the fact that you and mark don't even like each other.

but haechan cares for mark just as much as he cares about you and he won't just let his best friend miss out on all the fun things he can do to their little doll, right? what kind of a friend would he be? once haechan shoves him into a world of temptation and sin and pleasure, mark would kiss his self-induced celibacy goodbye.

plus, you've been awfully naughty these days.

talks about wanting to come home or getting at least a few rights to have gadgets were the only thing you said whenever you see him. it went as far as practically growling and running away from haechan when he tries to initiate something with you, screeching your lungs out and saying, "don't fucking touch me, you creepy little psycho!"

deflowering mark.

punishing you.

he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

he's fucked your stubborn little self into submission once, but all that overprivileged tv sessions might've put silly little ideas into your dumb little head again. alas, no worries, he'll just have to do it one more time. and maybe, now with the aid of his good 'ol buddy mark, they'll both be able to screw you up so good you'll never want to leave their clutches.

"gumdrop, can you come here for a second?"

haechan isn't deaf to the exaggerated groan you let out from the living room and it grates on his nerves how utterly brave you are for being passive aggressive. you reminded him of a little girl in a temper tantrum because they weren't given any candy - and when you show up in the master bedroom clad in your little pink dress, eyes upturned and sharp, a pathetic little girl was all he can think of when he saw you.

only now did he notice that you had even detangled your hair from the intricate braids haechan spent at least twenty minutes doing earlier this morning. where was mark all this time? why wasn’t he there to stop you? geez, you both are so going to get it, this time!

"what do you want?"

"can you give me a hug? i felt awfully stressed at work today. i need my little gumdrop."

this was obviously a test. don't get him wrong, he'll still punish you but if just this one time you learned to swallow that bitchy attitude and come crawling to him as the perfect lover should, maybe he won't be too harsh.

but he gave you too much credit, he thinks. of course his dumb cockwhore doesn't know shit. of fucking course, you wouldn't know it was a test. not when you scoffed, rolled your eyes at him, and spun in your heels to walk back to the living room.

"beat your meat with your own hands, creep."

haechan's reaction is immediate, his long legs allowing no delay in crossing the room to mercilessly fist your hair. he had pulled your hair so bad you thought it was going to rip right at the roots, all of his pent up anger due to your poor behavior channeling into that one grip.

you feel his scoff of disbelief against the curve of your neck as haechan pulls you flush against his body. "what the fuck did you just say to me?" he laughs patronizingly. "beat my meat with my own hands – aw, baby! that has got to be the best one yet!"

it truly was, though. he's not going to lie. out of every vicious snarl and hate-induced words you said to him, that particular offhand comment takes the cake. seriously, sometimes haechan thinks you're deliberately trying to make him furious – gumdrop, if you wanted to be fucked silly, all you had to do was ask.

he hurls you to the mattress, breath knocking right out of your lungs. before you can even sit back up and crawl away from haechan, he's already crawling over your body to sit directly on your stomach, fiddling with something on the headboard. you nearly scream in frustration, no matter what you do, you just can't throw him off of you!

"i don't know why the fuck you're behaving this way but it's gone too far. one more time. do i need to fuck some respect into you, one more time?”

a new wave of motivation surges through you when you hear the familiar click clacking of metal. your eyes widened just a fraction, the only thing that gave away the unease quickly seeping under your skin. if not for haechan's perceptive eyes, he would have missed it.

he merely used one hand to grip both your wrists in a vice. "no!" you squirmed, tossing and turning and trying with all your might to get him off of you. "no! i don't want that – not the cuffs!"

he loops the respective bands around your wrists with practiced ease. the last handcuffs he used had torn and marked your skin, something haechan wasn't fond of. only he can paint your bare skin with colors.

thus, he bought newer ones. the bands were a bright shade of red, connected to each other using a medium sized chain that loops around one of the steel wires of the bed, and the little bells attached to the bands ring with your every movement.

haechan knows the bells drove you crazy. its incessant ringing driving you up the wall as you couldn't keep your hands still whenever he fucked you to oblivion – he knew how much you loathed the sound of the bells, all the more reason for him to enjoy.

and mark, too. speaking of which…

you stubbornly pull at your bounded hands, glaring at the man before you as he studies your state. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of you struggling. "you always look so good in red, gumdrop."

before you were given a chance to reply, he stormed out of the room with a sense of purpose bounding his steps. "lee donghyuck!" you screamed. "fucking come back and get me out of these, you pervert!"

he can hear you thrashing in your chains and yelling profanities from a room away. where was the demure girl he turned you into after only a week living in the apartment? though funny enough, the blood in haechan's sadistic side rushes in excitement at the prospect of wiping that glare off your face. it wasn't the fear, nor your submission that gets him off. it was the idea that he can and he will break you down no matter how many times you try to build yourself back up again.

he's not too sure whether he's going to eliminate that dirty mouth you've developed, though. because you did make him snort in the most unattractive way when you told him he can fucking jack himself off when he had been merely asking for a hug. this aggressive side you developed is… nice. he can work with it.

"can you ask your play thing to keep it down?" mark hisses, flinching and making an offkey sound with his guitar when a certain screech from you caught him off-guard.

haechan smiles.

"why don't you shut her up?"

it took a good few minutes trying to talk mark into stepping into the bedroom where he's got you chained to the headboard, but alas, haechan can be persuasive if he wants to be.

frankly, the younger man is sick and tired of hearing both of you bicker – it's no wonder you've developed a sharp tongue! it's all mark's fault and yet it's haechan that has to do the dirty work of setting you straight all over again. you're a tough cookie to crack, someone hauntingly immune to the violence and chaos.

and yet…

"you don't – don't seriously plan on doing this, do you?" your eyes go back and forth between the two males, primarily addressing the younger, devil-spawned male. haechan, ever observant, picks up the light tremor in your voice.

haechan had uttered a playful "if i'm going to teach you how to fuck her right, you're gonna need the best seat in the house, markie!" before forcing the older boy to sit by your side, mark's thighs grazing the temples of your head as your eyes awkwardly flutter up to the spectator.

mark couldn't deny he was intrigued by the emotion reflecting in your orbs. when your eyes met, it was a silent plea, he just knew it was. and unlike vulnerable and helpless you, mark, to some extent, still had at least some sense of freedom to him. he can choose to walk away, to stop haechan from trying to get him laid, maybe even talk the other boy into postponing your punishment.

but he'll do no such thing.

not because he has a moral compass (he doesn't, really) but because mark knew firsthand, there's no stopping haechan once he sets his mind into something – and right now, if that boy wants to punish you and use mark to fulfil his exhibitionistic fantasies then that's what'll happen.

your bottoms were the first to go, haechan's blunt nails digging into your skin as he pulled it down slowly, patronizingly, while watching bemused at your squirming. "this is how you know she needs a reminder," he says, addressing mark. "a good princess should take whatever's given to her like a good girl but if she's being an ungrateful brat –"

you flinch when he harshly smacks your thigh.

"– she gets what’s coming for her, right?"

there's a second's delay with mark's reply. haechan didn't mean for the question to be rhetorical, he wanted an answer from the other boy.

"right, mark?"

"r – right…"

haechan laughs, flipping the skirt of your dress up. "what, are you that excited for pussy that you're stuttering? that's cute."

you hear mark intake a sharp breath when haechan dives in to give you feathery kisses in your inner thigh. he always starts off this way, after figuring out this gets you wet way faster than simply kissing you.

as haechan starts talking, lips lazily grazing over your skin, you fight hard not to utter a single sound as you pull on your chains. "listen carefully, markie. do you hear those whimpers? she likes it," you feel the prickles of his sharp stare. "she's just too much of a fucking brat to admit it. go on gumdrop, your fighting spirit makes this all the more interesting."

you hate the patronizing tone he used as his hands trail higher, and higher until it's pinching at the bud of your clit. and against your whole being trying to keep your lips sealed, alas, it parts and creates a soft whimper that has mark stiffening next to you.

haechan lays his tongue flat against your folds. you weren't in the least bit wet yet to accommodate his size, but that's easy. he merely circles the bud with the tip of his tongue before pushing two fingers in. months of standing in the shadows outside your window had made him memorize the movement of your fingers whenever you pleasured yourself.

he felt the jolts of the bed as you shook your head side to side, trying with everything you can to hold your moans in. a corner of his lips can’t help but curl up. "what, gumdrop? too shy to lose yourself because we have an audience? don't worry our celibate little friend over here seems to like it. go on, give him a show."

too lost in the ministrations of his lips and fingers, you don't see haechan meeting eyes with mark, nodding at an object lying on the bed side table. you can only shudder when the cool tip of a knife presses against the base of your throat, hooking under the collar of your dress as mark slowly rips it off.

but haechan doesn't have the patience. "dude, give that to me. at your phase you'll get her naked tomorrow. let the tip cut her skin, the bitch deserves it anyway."

you scream when he drags it unceremoniously down your front, narrowly missed tearing at your navel. there are a few pricks of pain here and there for when the knife accidentally nicked your skin. he sure was ruthless as can be. why did you even bother acting like a brat, cursed him out, when it gave you no benefits whatsoever? did he unknowingly transform you into this sick little masochist that thrived on his sadism?

"no."

it was a defeated whisper. the last of your resolve turning into dust as the breath escapes your lungs. why did losing feel so heavy in your chest? you don't notice your arms slumping, nor your head nodding off to one side, the weight of your horrible reality sinking into you once again as if you had only been kidnapped yesterday.

but it had not been yesterday. it's been days. weeks. months. and the last time you sneakily got ahold of mark's phone and searched for your name, the last news clip or article published about your disappearance had been three months ago. that only meant one thing.

they weren't looking for you anymore.

just like that the world continued, other people's lives continued. all the while you're stuck here, rotting in the arms of your captors.

haechan's face emerged in front of you. he smiles and you would've believed he felt an ounce of guilt if not for that wicked stare in his eyes. "you've always been most beautiful like this, gumdrop. the hope disappearing in your eyes upon the realization that no one's coming for you anymore – i love it. i love you, my pretty girl."

he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead but he might as well have shot you straight in the heart.

there was no warning, nothing to ready you for the sudden intrusion happening on your bottom half and it was so bad, that it made you shut your eyes, hands wrapping around the chains as tears started falling across your cheeks.

rough fingers reached out and wiped them away.

something felt off.

the fingers were too calloused, opposed to the softness of haechan's nimble fingers. and while the aforementioned male had more length than girth, the person who's thrusting himself inside you is the complete opposite. he's stretching you out too much, not even bothering to give you time to adjust when he's already bucking his hips like an animal.

"shh, it's okay. i'll take care of you…"

this wasn't haechan.

and when you fluttered your eyes open to see mark's boyish little face, you can't help that look of betrayal painting your features. at least you only had to deal with one obsessive, sex-deprived freak. now, you're not so sure if you can handle both of them.

how foolish of you to think that mark's self-induced celibacy stretched far and wide when in reality, he was also just a boy with his own needs. a slave to his own temptations.

how cruel. so, so cruel.

in the back of your mind, you were thankful haechan cared enough to properly get you in the mood or else you would've been staining the bed sheets red by how deep and frantic mark’s thrusts were. it felt like he wanted to tear you in half.

"if i didn't know better i'd say you're experienced, markie! i wouldn't fucking know you're a virgin by how much you're humping her like a dog.”

curse him and his dirty mouth. his constant degradation is making it easier for mark to slide in and out of you, and a proof for that is the lewd slick sounds echoing in the room partnered with the older male's deep grunts – a complete opposite of the pitched, whiny sounds haechan makes.

'gumdrop, come on! be noisy with our first-timer here just how you're always noisy with me, yeah? don't be such a killjoy." the pout in his voice is evident, coming from the side of your ear.

you wish you had never turned your head, otherwise you wouldn't have to see him pumping his own dick in his hands right in front of you. the glare you shot probably looked pathetic, what with all the tears streaming down your face and your little theory proves true when you see his mouth quirk up to the side.

"i fucking hate you."

"mark, fuck her harder, wouldja? until she learns her fucking lesson."

the disturbed stare you gave him does not slip his notice, his hand's pace turning erratic, spurred by the slick sound of your walls, skin clapping, and mark's broken whines.

make him stop, your eyes said. please.

but haechan only shoots you an innocent smile before shaking his head. "didn't you tell me to beat my meat with my own hands?"

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @stayvision @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @gothboyjisung​

wanna be added to my general taglist? click here! ​

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[usertoxicyaoi]

I feel like these past four episodes, vegaspete absolutely stole the scene?? I know they're supposed to be a side couple but god GODDDDD, they were AMAZING, their story is so captivating and layered and!!!!!!! I also feel like BibleBuild just???????????? Killed it. Everything, to their body language, chemistry, micro expressions, voices... Idk if it's me just being insane about them or if anyone else agrees but I'd definitely watch a whole series solely about them 😭😭😭😭 (love kp and mileapo were amazing as well but I can't help it)

hiiiii anon!!!

yeah ... i .... yeah.

see vegaspete really do remind me of teamwin. they both just give off the same kinda energy to me (no wonder they both are my fave fave fave tv show couples).

like yeah some people will say its SCS (second/side couple syndrome) and all that comes with it - the ambiguity, the way you can produce more meta for them bc there's space and room and freedom to do so outside of what's canon/on the show.

and i get that. but for me, for both teamwin and vegaspete, its just ... its more than that.

there's some Real Trauma Unpacking with both couples. from very early on in the show, you could See there's chemistry and spice and trauma and a heaviness there. and then the show decides to not give you them for a while. and then as the audience, you're left wondering and waiting and Yearning for them to kick in again.

and that was the case. yes. but with both teamwin and vegaspete, i was never ever ever ever worried about time running out or it feeling too rushed. which has been the case sooooo many times with other side/second couples. no. with them, everything kicked towards the back end of the show, which made it so intense.

and, moreso for vegaspete than teamwin, since this ask is about vegaspete, it worked. it HAD to be that way.

vegaspete HAD to be shown at the end. bc otherwise it wouldnt have hit as intensely as it was supposed to had it been drawn out across the whole show from the start. from ep 10 to ep 14, the pacing of vegaspete was so measured and yet so quick and fast but also given time and space to grow and fester and breathe. and it took you from one high to another and then it KICKED YOU TO THE GROUND and then took you high again.

of course, acting and chemistry play a huuuuuuge part in it, and biblebuild GOT it. absolutely every element of it. what also helps is the aesthetics and cinematography with them too. the reds, blues, greens, purples, yellows, black and white outfits, religious imagery etc.

it does also help in the fact that vegaspete are so Obviously Fucked Up and its not even denied or hidden. so they could REALLY go places and go as far as they wanted to with them, bc it was made clear from the start that they are fucked up!!! thats their nature!!!! its just a matter of seeing HOW fucked up they are, and we totally got to see that.

another thing is how BOTH characters got their own focus as indiviuals. you got a backstory with both. we could get our hands super dirty by being given the chance to dig and dig and dig and SEE who both these characters and what their psyche are, when you take away the meat and flesh, and strip them down to their skeleton. and you saw them BOTH go through it individually, whilst being apart from one another, which makes their coming together even more sweeter.

and in the end, you get to see them get what they deserve. it isnt sugar coated or glossed over. no they had it UGLY. you feel the catharsis of pete beating vegas up bloody and of vegas breaking down in pete's arms as pete talks him out of comitting suicide and pete's RAGE at killing anyone who hurts vegas and vegas being absolutely stripped naked and bare with nothing left to show for who he was previously. and you feel the elation of seeing them choose one another when they are their most honest selves and versions, devote to one another despite EVERYTHING, and see them get a chance to have their shot at happiness with macau. their is a resolution that leaves you satisfied based on everything theyve been through to get to this point here. and it feels DESERVED. rightfully deserved.

[frosted-night]

Jack Frost Designs Review

Yes it’s finally his time. This is going to include his book designs including previous incarnations in said books. There are more movie concept designs than book so, let’s dig in shall we?

This was in fact the first ever Jack Joyce designed while he came up with The Guardians Of Childhood. He even comes with his own backstory! (Which was cut. Sorry Joyce posts walls of text so it’s a girthy read.)

So instead of a young mischievous trickster, we got a much more depressing story of Jack. (Jack by default is sad obviously) but this one... It kind of hits differently and almost reminds me of the story he crafted for Pitch. A dad who tried to defend his family but through tragic events was ripped from them and changed completely. Design wise, he’s a lot more tree than snow. There doesn’t exist a colored version of this so we’ll never know if he sported winter and dull dead leaf colors rather than grassy greens.This Jack has a weird presence to him, I can’t put my finger on it. Rating: 6/10 He’s really neat! Just a little too Autumn feeling rather than a blend of both Autumn and Winter.

Nightlight feels like the baby evolution if Jack was a pokemon and that's what I’m gonna stick with. Below is a more recent version of him colored.

In all honesty that one is easier on the eyes proportion wise because sometimes Joyce has ‘interesting’ anatomy choices but we aint going into that today. It’s interesting how his hair somehow looks shorter and longer than Jack’s at the same time. Could be because the longer strands float seamlessly but star boy hair physics what can ya do. It’s a little hard to tell what is his skin and what is his armor, so that is a casuality in making a character only have one or two colors in their color scheme. I love other artist’s depictions of Nightlight but the canon one feels a little weak color wise. Rating: 5/10 Sorry, get some better LEDs and then come back.

Here we have a book Jack but I can’t entirely recall if this was used in the books or not. I digress. This design looks like him still wearing very Nightlight-esque armor/clothing and slowly growing into his new persona as Jack Frost. The intricacies are hard to make out but we’ll work with it. This one is very interesting to me because he very much looks like an older teen close to young adult. His hair looks very fluffy too. Not many complaints about this one but not much praise either.

Rating: 6/10 Not great but doesn’t stand out that much.

Remember when I said Joyce had ‘interesting’ anatomy decisions? Jack looks like he has half a head here and it bothers me GREATLY. This is the adult Jack design he went with. Supposedly he likes the opera and he sure looks it. This! Exists!! Kind of wish it didn’t. The outfit is nice but it just doesn’t fit Jack as a whole. This just screams to me that it’s someone else with a similar-ish hairstyle.

Rating: 3/10 Guess he’d be the...Phantom Of The Opera. (I’ll go home and so should he.)

And finally the final Jack. This is the one that almost exactly resembles the Jack we got in the movies(Probably because it was made after the movie but w/e) but just add a cape on him. I can’t really tell if hes got a hoodie and a cape, or just a cloak+hood on top of a sweatshirt. It isn’t too important because my thoughts on this one are obvious. Rating: 10/10 Edna Mode would have a field day with you boy.

MOVIE DESIGN TIME

Joyce claims this is a design he drafted when Leonardo DiCaprio was considered to voice Jack and I can kind of see that with how his face is drawn here. This Jack looks a lot more like a warrior and less of that trickster look. I can’t say I’m a fan of the weird antenna his hood has but his sword is really cool looking.

Rating: 4/10 Nice bow and sword but it can’t save your fashion choices.

This looks like a lanky 11-13 year old who would put rocks or slugs in my shoes and relish in my disgust. He has the exact look of a snot nose kid and I’m unsure how to feel about it.

His various hairstyles drafted here sort of make him softer looking or just more of a snot nose, no in between. Maybe even an Anime Protagonist.

The top right one almost looks like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon if you squint. It’ll be a little hard to rate them all as one individual but why not.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate them but they aren’t my cup of tea.

AH- IS THAT A FUCKIN GREMLIN?

Oh wait no it isn’t he looks like a 10 year old. Whatever don’t feed him after midnight. The staff’s design of not being shaped like a G is an interesting tidbit but the whole design looks like he’s really young or like a troll etc. This Jack looks like he thinks girls have cooties uses outdated slang.

Rating: 4/10 This is me being generous.

It honestly looks like he hiked his pants up all the way to his chest. A late teen with horrid fashion choices once again. Not many other thoughts here.

Rating: 2/10 Get a sweater on or something.

This is one is very interesting looking to me. His clothes looked a lot more leather based and very human-like. The tatters, tears and frays all make him look like he was a victim of an accident that never changed his clothes. It makes me wonder if this Jack had the same death as the final movie Jack or something else entirely. Either way, this one looks like hes a mid to late teen which really adds to my intrigue.

This was another image that greatly resembled the design so I included it here. It almost looks like his skin is blue here which is pretty neat to me at least. He’s also got leaf motifs here, which from the first Jack design Joyce made, we can see a pattern here.

Rating: 8 /10 I was originally weirded out by his head but now its not so bad.

This Jack is definitely dressed more like a nature boy rather than him having human influenced fashion and it’s an appealing touch. The tiny leaf sprouting from his staff is also kind of cute since the designers seemed to want to put leafs somewhere on his designs. His hairstyle is also very cute but it reminds me of Sasuke Uchiha in a sense. (Not a setback for me at least)

Rating: 7/10 13 year old Jack is going thru a phase.

I thought this Jack didn’t show up again in story boards but I was wrong!

They look a little different from each other but just similar enough to pair together, so bare with me. The first one obviously has looser pants, slightly longer sleeves and got his leaf motif going. This second Jack is a VERY green. It gives the impression that this Jack made his clothes out of plants and natural materials. Again I’m not wholly sure if greens fit his color scheme but they sure went for it for a while. I can’t say I’m a fan of it because it heavily reminds me of Peter Pan.

However a very similar looking Jack could be found in this storyboard. It doesn’t look as green as the other storyboards made it out to be and looks more like dead grass. Which is a pretty nice touch.

Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate it but it just doesn’t vibe yknow.

Speaking of a vibe...hoo this certainly has one.  This Jack isn’t old but certainly doesn’t look very young, maybe in the 20-30 range, thats just me. He has facial features that remind me of Pitch but resembles the Jack Frost of Santa Clause 3

That being said, I wondered if him looking similar to Pitch was in the storyline of them being brothers.(Which was a scrapped thing, who knew.) He’s a bit more menacing in this design but certainly seems like he relishes in his work.

Rating: 4/10 I’d make it a lower score but I gotta give it props

NOW THIS JACK IS KINDA INTERESTING. This one looks like he’s 16 and going through a grunge phase. He’s gonna play Nirvana loudly and not turn it down even if you tell him too. His staff itself has mini icicles hanging off of it and leafs look stuck to his shirt. Did you glue or staple those on Jack? His hair also looks much longer than his other designs and I kind of dig it( Shut up I’m bias.) I’m not wholly sure why else this design has stuck with me but it just has something about it that I just love. I wish there was a full body drawing of it.

(He also kinda has the same hair as the Jack Frost in Runescape but I wont go on about that hoo hoo)

Rating: 9/10 *Bad Boy by Cascada plays in the distance*

This one definitely feels like middleschooler trying to be in a band. His sticks just resemble drumsticks to me what can I say. I’m a big fan of his shoes and his color scheme screams a hibernating tree in winter. His hair also looks like it’s covered in frost rather than it being wholly white, which is very neat!! He looks like he wants to fight but has slight hesitance. Overall a very balanced Jack.

Rating: 8/10 He’s ready for band practice

Not many thoughts here, I just found these tiny Jack designs cute. His hoodie being a jacket instead just adds to the charm of this one.

No talk to him he angy.

Rating: 6/10 fun sized boi

Now this Jack resembles the one earlier that dressed entirely in leather brown colors, however he clearly is different than that one. I’m gonna say it, he looks like a zombie or undead in this design and its pretty fucking gnarly. I don’t know whats going on with his hair but I’m gonna assume it’s just the wind making it look like that. He just has the vibe that he was once human but was turned into something else entirely. It isnt in uncanny territory but borders that. This version of Jack meeting Pitch and the others would have been *very* interesting. Rating: 7/10 Eat a twinkie Jack you’ll feel better.

The final design! I can’t complain much about this one. The way his staff subtly has a G shape and a hexagon(his signature shape) is a wonderful touch. Additionally, the way the frost is gathered mostly where his hand is such an intricate detail. His signature hoodie is iconic at this point so I can’t bad mouth that either.(I can’t anyway because there's no complaints from me here.) Although, I never understood the leather straps that his pants had or their functions. I couldn’t find any colonial outfits that resembled Jack’s pants so its a total mystery to me at least.

And I can’t go on about this design until I mention the snowflake pattern in his eyes

Pure beauty. It’s at a hue of blue that almost looks impossible to have, combined with the electric blue color of the snowflake in his eyes. The amount of detail in this movie amazes me to this day. Rating: One Great Blizzard <3/10