#there were other polar explorers with them for the shooting

[antarcticconfessions]

The "Klemm" in Greenland

[shadowground]

8, 13, 17, 24 and 15 for the choose violence ask game.

Hi there! Always glad to see you in my inbox. Now buckle up and let's beggin the misery! ;v;

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

By far the biggest one, that a lot of problems come from, is The Aligned Continuity being treated as one linear story opposed to the... well... many stories that more or less correspond with each other. In my eyes, TFP is a single, stand-alone story. Rid15 is not a direct continuation of it. It is its own story that could be something like an alternative universe continuation, if it makes sense. The WfC and FoC games are not the direct prequels, as well as the novels, nor The Covenant of Primus are. They are nothing more but concepts we can peruse and choose what fits the greater plot for us personally, but we will never find the truth of one solid story behind all of the Aligned media. I was there when the Aligned Continuity was becoming a thing, and let me tell you all of those things were not treated as one continuity at the beggining. Especially TFP, games, and first novels. They all started as very seperate types of media, and the fact that for example Covenant of Primus uses WfC game concept art to show how the "pre-war" designs of characters looked like, and bind them somehow to TFP ones, is just a bit funny to me. I will never take this book seriously, seeing the amount of information that is just conflicting in it.

13. worst blorboficiation

Starscream... just... Starscream... especially making a polarized version of exclusively helpless, cutie patootie victim out of him, or a monster abuser with no breaks... Why have you done this to me, fandom...? ;-; Where is my canonically correct, balanced Starscream who weponises vulnerability and his grand acting skills to get out of sticky situations... The plotting master who backstabs himself more than others because of his hurt pride, and seriousness that doesn't fit the moment at all. The ambitious, power-hungry snake who will never stop following his taste for the crown... but will trip 5 times on the way in the funniest twists of fate. The fallen leader, that despite of all his wounds will still try desperately to claw his way back up, just to be thrown to the ground again. Starscream is tragic, so serious, and yet so silly in all of his actions. He acts cute, yes, but it has reasons, not only bacause he is a cute little meow-meow. He is driven by survival instincts, traumas, and ambition, often villainous to the comical ends, but this equalibrium is what's so special about him. He can seem cute, he can be vicious, he can murder, he can cut heads off clean, or cower on the floor like a worm to plead for mercy. He is shown to be so, so evil but at the same time it's hard not to sympathize with him. No matter what he does he's still the one that prevails and survives till the end. All thanks to the ammount of bullshit this twig can pull out of his afterburner and somehow convince everyone to either spare him, or help him... or start shooting at him 'cause he said just a bit too much.

In fandom it's almost impossible to find a canon-friendly depiction of him, except for fanarts that just kinda show him standing, or something. I don't know. It just never clicks right with me. Or I've never found the good thing, but I doubt that I would be so incredibly unlucky... It seems so hard for people to grasp this fine balance with his character, and the difference in what his core character is versus what he puts out there as an act.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

For fics, I'd gladly just read a story as if someone would write an additional episode of tfp. Or alternatively, something that would explore the complexities of the character relationships and their own psyche. Decepticon-centric works would fit my interest the best. I once tried to look for a fic like that when I was bored but after like 20th page of smut in the tags I just gave up on finding fics altogether. Maybe I'm shitty at looking for them tho. I've never read fics except of those directly sent to me by their author, who I could trust with the contents of the story. Or when I knew the author personally... which kinda gets to the same point.

For art tho... some atmospheric art with complicated backgrounds, beautifully rendered characters, ect... basically, what I cannot create just yet. I could watch concept art-like pieces all day long ;v; Or good character design studies!

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

As I mentioned in the tags of the ask game, I'm not actively following fandom discourse (because I value my own mental health), so I will answer with what would bring the discourse up, if someone would ask me directly. It would be antyhing in regards of character mischaracterization, alien robot huminization, "black or white" rethorics (in a view polarisation way), or anything that brings irl politics to the chill media about metal creatures from space... as in... their world, their rules. Don't mix it up in my house (except if it brings context to how the show was created, based on the times it originated in. This goes to the media analysis and is very welcomed).

15. that one thing you see in fanart all the time

Mostly, my dash blesses me with diverse fanart experience, but lately for some reason I'm hit with the unfortunate beam of "This TFP design is oh so ugly, so I fixed it" insert G1 amazon box... and don't get me wrong, if you have your own AU or something like this, then it's fine to slightly redesign a character. But what boggles me is the attitude of "I don't like it, thus it's wrong and I fixed it", which reminds me of the art fixing dramas that the art community was struggling so much with several years ago. Or is still at it, who knows. In general, I see it as disrespectful to the og artist. I understand that people have their tastes, but saying that something is wrong only because it's one's subjective opinion just leaves a very bad taste in my mouth.

That appears to be all. Thank you so much for the ask! I'm always glad to answer thise ;3

Ask game

[spot-splatter-splash]

We all know I love the Storm E. era content for this franchise (Lalaloopsy Girls & We're Lalaloopsy). But! I'm willing to admit that it is flawed. As much as I put it on a pedestal for it's humor, It's only fair that I acknowledge the strong point of the Webisodes and Nick Jr. Series. The animation.

Where I (personally) feel that the later pair adds more in terms of personality for the cast with the dynamic between Storm E. and Jewel being my favorite to watch and explore. The animation in those series does feel stiff when held next to the earliest set of media.

A lot of the time Its because of how sharp the joints are when they bend as opposed to the earlier series rounding them out. That created the ragdoll feel that the later series lack which breaks immersion.

This could have been a budgeting issue due to the declining popularity of the franchise. The puppet style animation bends at odd and sometimes sharp angles. Which breaks the illusion of them being rag dolls.

Mind you there is a way to make that style look good, if im not wrong the earlier series were rigs too. Just designed with more attention to the ragdoll feel. The bendiness of the limbs and squashing and stretching for emphasis when interacting with certain objects. Good examples that come to mind are Mouse and Pix E. In the episode Flight Plan And Peanut. In general Peanut has some of the cleanest animation.

While I hail the later series for the personality they give the characters that is not to say I think the eariler media is boring or does it poorly. I find the Webisodes and Nick Jr. Series really cute and pleasant to watch. But they also had more characters to work with and had to split that attention between them.

I have seen comments about the cast being boring in We're Lalaloopsy. A criticism which is subjective of course. But one I struggle to see. (I also see a lot of people shoot Storm E. down as being too mean. A rant for another post surely).

And while I acknowledge the subjectivness of it. I think Jewel, Storm E. and Spot are really well done in that series.

Spots is still an energetic artist who doesnt mind a mess. But added onto that she doesn't like conflict, struggles to voice her thoughts when frustrated, get attached easily, is eccentric and pleasantly weird, sensitive and forgiving almost to a fault. And yet still stands as her own person capable of putting her foot down when she reaches her breaking point. Shes lovable and I adore a weird girl whos just so comfortable being weird.

Jewel is clearly rising the ranks of favoritism. Shes still 'perfectly perfect' Jewel having a checklist for everything she deems important enough too. But now shes someone who can be easily frustrated, doesn't enjoy her schedule or plans being disrupted or altered, kinda of ditzy yet not entirely stupid. She focuses on herself to the point she talks over others and cant see that shes being an issue and has to be reined in. Perfectly perfect Jewel is actually wildly flawed. Shes not malicious but can come off as hostile or petty. Shes dramatic, a primadonna, self richeous and sometimes holier-than-thou and needs to have others correct her or to fail to learn and better herself. I am wildly enamored by this. She sucks shes my favorite. Her flaws are what makes her so fun to watch.

Finally Storm E. Shes polarizing and due to her being the most recent doll to make it into the animated series theres not much to compare her to. By design shes suppose to be the odd one out. A black sheep. I see a lot of critique about her being too different which is the point. Shes often yeilded as this unlikable asshole by some of the really critical fans but I feel that doesnt do Storm E. justice.

Shes different by design in both media shes in. Shes has a dry sense of humor, isn't as comfortable with affection as the other girls, isn't as open about her feelings as others, tends to fall to the back of the pack and a bit of a loner. But she's not a bad person. She does care about others she just has a hard time showing it. It does bother her when she hurts other people with her behavior.

We're Lalaloopsy handles this with her dynamic with Spot and Jewel. Spot is someone she has a soft spot for. Shes more open to Spot being in her space and feels like Spot kind of gets her as another artist. Spot likes Storm E. as she is. Her personality isn't the problem to Spot, it's certain actions that are. And that soft spot for Spot doesnt stop Spot from getting hurt. Storm E. (like Jewel) doesn't necessarily intend to harm others with her behavior. Intent doesn't negate hurting someone and Storm E. learns that. She does feel remorse and is apologetic. I like that shes never urged to be more like the others just corrected when her actions hurt someone.

Which is why her and Jewel work so well. They parallel eachother. Both of them have a tendancy to focus on and put themselves above others without any real malice behind it. Jewel needs to feel important and Storm E. feels she had to be independent. Storm E. is misunderstood and Jewel is melodramatic. Theyre polar opposites on the serface yet are so similar when cross examined. They clash but also relate to eachother.

The others get unique little peronality quirks too. Crumbs is very particular to an obsessive degree, Rosy will put herself last at the expense of her own well being and is anxious, Dot frequently fails, yet is excited by any chance to invent something.

Tangent oops, this post is getting long. The point is every bit of media for this series has merit and def worth watching for whatever it offers. Could be a good laugh, clean animation, fun dynamics, or a unique take on an old favorite.

Feel free to ask me about characters I can write essays about some of them. I know I haven't talked much about proper reboot stuff and thats because I'm in the process of watching everything I can to get a feel for the extended cast.

[chrisodonline]

Kraina and I have been chatting, not surprisingly, about Sallen since last night. (Well, last night my time. Later her time.)

I told her that I feel like Callen's relationship with Sam is such a bigger (and truer) indicator of his growth than his romantic one.

The finale seems to be acknowledging how important their relationship is/was, and I was just reading Chris O'Donnell's interview with TV Insider, and he seems to realize how important the duo is, too:

What is your favorite moment from NCIS LA that is really representative of your character?

Chris O’Donnell: Hard to pick one moment, but I know it would be a scene with LL [Cool J]. Our relationship/chemistry was really what made this thing work. It was that way from the first episode, and I enjoyed every day we spent together. 

For all the important moments and journey(s) Callen has had over the years, even the man who brought him to life for 14 years feels that Sam would be involved somehow in the ones dearest to him.

At the end of the day, this relationship is what the show pivoted to after the conception (as reiterated by Gemmill in a recent interview) that sold stakeholders on it.

Oops, this turned into a novel, so here's a Read More:

I remember getting to read the script for the first part of the backdoor pilot before it aired thanks to a friend with some connections. Some things were changed from the script, including that Sam was originally doing the Renko undercover role. I'm guessing they knew they couldn't just hide LL Cool J's role with OSP so they changed it. But Shane Brennan also recalled how they were about to shoot the first scene with Chris and Todd, and they were talking in the van. No one knew if it would work or not, and so everyone on the other side of the camera held their breath and then "Action." And it worked instantly.

The show was about the things that shape your identity, and who you are, with the exploration of how the roles we play in different parts of our lives impact that. G Callen could not have had a more polar opposite partner in that area alone. G never felt like he could settle into being someone without knowing his past, and he always felt like something was missing. He was incomplete and broken. His undercover work only benefitted from that: a blank canvas not committed to anything really, who also probably tried out different traits when he was in character.

Enter Sam Hanna: a man who couldn't be more self-assured and aware of who he is. He's confident with great strength of character. Who you see when you meet Sam Hanna is exactly who Sam Hanna is. He's a mountain of morals, honor, and duty. In a way, yes, his service and career are a big part of who he is, especially since he was raised by a father who was also in service. But it's less that that life gave him those character traits and more that they fit so well into them. Sam never faltered on undercover work, but it was, for obvious reasons, not an obvious choice for him. It created a natural challenge, and at that point in his career, Sam needed one. He never likes to go without a challenge for too long because you should always keep growing.

They made for a great pair to complement each other at work. G had a tendency to go too far in and lone wolf into danger, and he was allowed to do it because he got results. But Sam Hanna's job was to be a partner and get the job done. And he was not about to let G go too far in. There was a balance of pulling each other that was so organic it couldn't help but creep into their personal lives, as well. G needed to learn to let someone in, and Sam Hanna was persistent with a huge heart. Sam had been surrounded with people with traits similar to him for so long, that it didn't hurt to mix it up and even created a challenge -- which we know Sam loves and is always up for. They challenged each other. They helped each other. And they cared for each other.

For a show that was no stranger to "testosterone undertone," toxic masculinity territory is always a danger. Most of the characters on this show definitely have bases in tropes, especially network procedural tropes. However, the people they cast have helped make them so much more. What follows is an opinion, but I stand by it. (Also, while I'm talking about Callen and Sam specifically here, this extends to other characters on this show, especially the male ones.) They ended up with Chris and Todd, two men who are extremely frank about feelings and emotions in real life, and who aren't afraid to hug and say they love each other in interviews. Often the Sallen banter just rang so true to conversations Chris and Todd had probably been overheard having on set, so it makes even more sense that their offscreen traits and relationship made their way into the show, as well. I seriously doubt we would've ended up with so many casual "I love you's," hugs, and HAND HOLDING between two grown men in this career if they had different actors.

I cannot overstate how important it is that this relationship not only existed, but existed for 14 years on a network channel, specifically the one with some of the most traditional overall values in their shows.

And there endeth the essay I didn't expect to write today.

[hollow-knight-stats]

Unpopular Opinions

No two players are the same, and while numbers can tell us a lot about the community as a whole, it’s nice to hear what makes people stand out. Several ratings have been created by speedrunners and other content creators, but today, the average player gets to spill the truth and show us their unpopular opinions.

Some charms have created a lot of controversy, causing division among the responders, with comments ranging from useless to overpowered. The charms that stood out to us while reading were Sharp Shadow, Steady Body, and Flukenest… though that last one has more avid haters than likers. Lifeblood charms in general seem disliked, someone mentioning they only acquire them for completion purposes, but even they have some supporters. 

One thing we noticed upon first seeing the results was the repeated mention of Sharp Shadow as an underrated or unpopular charm, mentioned both by people who loved it or hated it (and there were many of both sides). The charm has more than proved its popularity, though, being the 5th most used charm in the combat category, rising as an unexpected contender against other, more universally loved, charms. As people pointed out, the extra damage can be tempting to use, even considered broken for some bosses, but others have trouble adjusting to the way it affects the dash’s length. This last argument could also explain people’s divided opinions on Dashmaster as a charm, since it also modifies dash length and frequency, besides adding downwards dashes.  

Minions were brought up often as well, deserving their own category. Having a companion next to you can make the inhospitable world of Hollow Knight a less lonely place. Still, people are divided about them. At least four different people expressed their hatred for these charms, giving a heated opinion. Grimmchild was brought up both in terms of usefulness and cuteness, with polarized opinions as well. One player states they will take them to shoot aspids, or sometimes bring them for company.

Do you want a challenge? We found not just one, but multiple people confessing to willingly bringing minion charms to Fog Canyon, an area infamous for the exploding enemies all over the caverns, which would take your love for minions one step further. Be careful not to do it in a Steel Soul file, though. 

Dreamshield, which is not a popular charm overall (scoring 1.56 in combat and 1.4 in exploration) has unexpectedly sparked a few positive opinions, highlighting it as “stronk” or good for certain circumstances, as it can destroy projectiles. The sounds can be overwhelming and its protection is not total but there are a few people who do like this charm.

On the opposite end, a few respondents were not fond of Quick Slash, which is among the most popular charms. According to them, it can change your pace, and be a detriment to a player’s ability to dodge attacks. Meanwhile, while charms like Shaman Stone are popular (likely due to its use in any% speedruns), many people have a clear preference over nail damage and thus consider spell builds to not be worth the trouble of even putting them on. 

When it comes to healing, the synergy between Deep Focus and Quick Focus stood out to us. For a total of 7 notches, players can heal slightly faster than normal speed and gain two masks at a time, for half of the soul cost. As you can see, the cost can be steep, yet a few players have expressed using it during combat. Besides this, Hiveblood can cause divisive opinions regarding its high notch cost, driving people away from using it in normal gameplay, but it’s been favored for specific situations like the Path of Pain and the White Palace.

Regarding quality of life, many people recommended Gathering Swarm, Unbreakable Greed and the Wayward Compass. The third of these charms got a few messages, being gr[the rest is unfinished.]

mention something about sharp shadow actually being a favorite

people are very split on loving sharp shadow, steady body, or flukenest, or disliking it enough to mention it. especially sharp shadow

lifeblood charms distaste (+1 love)

minion love (+4 minion hate, +1 grimmchild hate)

dreamshield love (include the drawing under this)

slug love (+1 hate)

grubsong love

some people do not like quickslash

some spell build dissenters

sprintmaster love, but dashmaster controversy

surprising number of people taking minions into fog canyon

someone recommending kingsoul for platforming

genuine compass love (and compass memes). +1 legitimate compass hater

penny pinchers (gathering swarm love)

elegy love

deep + quick focus is a popular combo

hiveblood controversy, but not as much as the other three

nmg love

thorns and spore shroom appreciation 

[ausetkmt]

New Bethel Incident, Detroit 1969

Black Radicalism, Police Repression, Mass Arrests, and an Enduring Mystery

Published June 2021 by Policing and Social Justice HistoryLab/U-M Carceral State Project

Part I: Republic of New Africa

Part II: Outside the Church

Part III: Invading the Church

Part IV: Protests and Trials

Story design by Francesca Ferrara, Caroline Levine, and Matt Lassiter; based on the Detroit Under Fire exhibit section " New Bethel Incident ," researched and written by Aidan Traynor and Matt Lassiter.

On March 29, 1969, a dozen officers from the Detroit Police Department (DPD) invaded the New Bethel Baptist Church and arrested 142 African Americans gathered for the national convention of the Republic of New Africa (RNA). The Black nationalist organization was under constant surveillance by the FBI and the DPD, including multiple undercover agents and informants who had infiltrated the group. The incident began when two white officers initiated a confrontation with armed RNA bodyguards outside the church. What exactly happened is still in dispute, but one officer died in the shootout and his partner claimed that they did not have their guns drawn and were just trying to talk to the Black men. Black power and civil rights activists in Detroit did not believe this cover story and considered the confrontation to be part of the  broader policy of politically motivated police repression  during the late 1960s. After the 1967 Uprising, the Detroit Police Department criminalized Black Power organizations through  illegal surveillance ,  targeted repression , and  mass arrests , including a parallel  campaign to destroy  the local chapter of the Black Panther Party.

Prisoners inside New Bethel Baptist Church ( source )

A contingent of DPD officers responded to the shooting outside the church by storming inside with extreme force, firing wildly and hitting at least four unarmed and innocent people, taking everyone prisoner and threatening to kill them, and committing many acts of brutality. The DPD's official report claimed that a "hail of gunfire" from inside the church justified the police action, which was a lie to justify the abuses and was contradicted by all of the physical evidence and Black eyewitness testimony. The white police officers arrested all 142 people present--men, women, and children--for "conspiracy to commit murder."

Judge George Crockett, an African American and frequent critic of illegal DPD action, ordered the release of everyone wrongfully detained, which set off a political firestorm. The DPD hierarchy and the Detroit Police Officers Association (DPOA), the  reactionary white-dominated union , attacked Judge Crockett in a sustained campaign. Black power and civil rights groups defended the judge and escalated their fight against DPD repression. The murder trials of two RNA bodyguards resulted in acquittals and highlighted additional evidence of unconstitutional police methods. The question of what exactly happened outside the church remains an enduring mystery.

This investigative report reproduces secret FBI and DPD surveillance documents as well as eyewitness accounts of the church invasion, inquiries by civil rights agencies, protests by Black community organizations, and records from the murder trials. Scroll down to explore one of the most controversial and polarizing incidents in the history of Detroit during the civil rights era.

"Can any of you imagine the Detroit Police Department invading an all-white church and rounding up everyone in sight? . . . Can anyone explain in other than racial terms the shooting by police into a closed and surrounded church?"--Recorder's Court Judge George C. Crockett, April 3, 1969 

Part I: The Republic of New Africa and Illegal Police Surveillance

The FBI's secret COINTELPRO initiative worked with local police departments to "neutralize" black nationalist groups during the late 1960s and early 1970s ( source )

The Federal Bureau of Investigation launched its COINTELPRO against "Black Nationalist-Hate Groups" on August 25, 1967. The top-secret mission instructed FBI field offices to "disrupt" and "neutralize" Black Power organizations, ostensibly because they advocated violence. In reality, COINTELPRO was an overtly political repression campaign in service of a right-wing law enforcement agenda, part of the  FBI's long history  of investigating "subversive" civil rights groups and criminalizing political dissent. The FBI shared its "counterintelligence" with local police departments across the country, including the DPD. Even though Black Power groups advocated self-defense against police brutality, the FBI claimed that they were part of a nationwide conspiracy to promote "bitter and diabolic violence" in urban America. The FBI  specifically warned  that Black radical "urban guerillas" were plotting to ambush police officers through "acts of outrageous terror."

The Detroit Police Department conducted its own secret and unconstitutional political surveillance program, often dubbed the "Red Squad" because of its primary focus on left-wing radicals. The DPD's  clandestine Criminal Intelligence Bureau  spied on civil rights, Black Power, and New Left organizations--collecting intelligence to help guide illegal police crackdowns designed to repress their political activities. The DPD worked closely with the FBI as well as the  Special Investigation Unit  of the Michigan State Police, which shared the same mission and engaged in massive civil liberties violations of the rights of citizens during this era. All three of these law enforcement agencies had the Republic of New Africa under surveillance in the build-up to the New Bethel Incident of March 1969, including at least five undercover agents and informants and probably more.

Republic of New Africa

Cover of the RNA's 1968 founding manifesto ( source ). Read the full document  here. 

The Republic of New Africa (RNA) was a Black nationalist organization that originated in Detroit at the Black Government Conference called by the Malcolm X Society in March 1968. The founding meeting took place at the Shrine of the Black Madonna, a church pastored by Rev. Albert Cleage, one of Detroit's most influential Black Power leaders. About two hundred Black people from all over the United States signed the RNA’s declaration of independence stating, “forever free and independent of the Jurisdiction of the United States.” 

The RNA's purpose was to establish a "Black Nation" inside the United States and to gain international recognition as a politically independent entity. The group demanded political control of the "black ghettoes" and of a large territory with a majority-Black population in five southern states. The RNA also called on the United States government pay each Black person $10,000 for reparations. The delegates elected Robert F. Williams, a Black Power leader from North Carolina who was exiled in Cuba, as their president, and Milton Henry, a well-known radical attorney in Michigan, as their vice-president. The RNA included a statement that it would achieve its goals "by arms if necessary."

RNA political agenda and manifesto (stamped "confidential" by the FBI) [ source ]

RNA leaders and members including Brother Gaidi (Milton Henry); Brother Robert, Brother Gaidi, and Brother Imari; Rafael Vierra and Clarence Fuller (who stood trial for murder ( source )

Political Surveillance and Infiltration by FBI COINTELPRO

The FBI placed leaders of the RNA under surveillance even before they formed the organization in March 1968. This memo about the RNA's founding to a top FBI official came from an agent who had infiltrated the movement and was reporting on the initial Detroit gathering. This is clear because the author of the memo is redacted, which the FBI always did for its undercover agents and informants when forced to release internal files under Freedom of Information Act requests. Note also that the RNA's Minister of Defense is redacted, indicating that the person in this key position worked for the FBI.

The COINTELPRO program was secret at the time, and the American public did not learn of its existence until 1971. It was standard practice for the FBI's undercover "agents provocateur" to advocate violence so that the FBI could justify the surveillance and repression of radical organizations. The COINTELPRO mission was to "expose, disrupt, misdirect, discredit, or otherwise neutralize the activities of black nationalist, hate-type organizations and groupings, their leadership, spokesmen, membership, and supporters."

According to this report, provided by an FBI informant, the RNA was planning violence and guerrilla warfare.

It is hard to know for sure if RNA members who were radical Black nationalists actually advocated "warfare" against the United States, or if the FBI informant just claimed that they did to justify the law enforcement operation, or whether the leading advocates of violence inside the RNA were the FBI's "agents provocateur."

Source: View the entire memo  here .

The COINTELPRO program rapidly infiltrated RNA chapters around the country, and the FBI's full RNA file (available in the Archives Unbound database) makes clear that the Bureau had more than a dozen and perhaps several dozen informants inside the organization, making up a significant percentage of its active membership.

The FBI sent several undercover informants to the second convention of the RNA, held in Detroit in late March 1969, that culminated in the New Bethel Incident. In the memo below, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover personally authorizes travel to Detroit by an RNA member from the Los Angeles chapter who is working undercover for the FBI, one of several such memos in the COINTELPRO file.

Hoover's authorization of Los Angeles informant ( source )

The FBI shared this information with the Detroit Police Department and the Michigan State Police, who also had the RNA under surveillance through their own political counterintelligence operations. In addition, based on the COINTELPRO file, it is almost certain that the FBI also had an undercover operative in a position of influence inside the central RNA group in Detroit.

This is particularly important because, as revealed below in secret FBI documents, the Bureau's own undercover agent stated that the Detroit Police Department officers initiated the confrontation outside the New Bethel Baptist Church by firing first, and that no RNA members inside the church fired on the DPD before they stormed inside. But Director J. Edgar Hoover covered up this evidence and reported to the Attorney General and Congress that the RNA radicals had shot at the police first at both stages of the encounter.

The FBI covered up the reports from at least two of its undercover "agents provocateurs" that the Detroit police officers fired at the RNA members outside the church ( source ). The redactions in this document excerpt are FBI agents or informants. View the  full document here , taken from FBI files released under FOIA.

Part II: What Happened outside the Church?

"Is it reasonable to believe two white cops would approach 10-12 armed black men, with their pistols in their holsters and no weapons in their hands? . . . Is it conceivable the police behaved illegally? And would they admit it? Have they ever admitted to error in killing black people?"--People Against Racism

Corner of Philadelphia and Linwood where shooting began ( source )

The Republic of New Africa rented the New Bethel Baptist Church for a rally as part of its multi-day Detroit convention in March 1969. The church was pastored by Reverend C. L. Franklin, a prominent civil rights leader in Detroit, and located at the intersection of Philadelphia and Linwood, northwest of downtown. The RNA's rally started at 8 p.m. and ended at 11:25 p.m.

Armed bodyguards were escorting RNA leaders to their cars, and many of the people who attended the rally were still inside, when the gunfire began on the corner of Philadelphia and Linwood.

The Detroit Police Department claimed that two officers were just driving by and saw "approximately 10 to 12 Negro males with guns entering automobiles," so they stopped to investigate. Given that the DPD had the RNA rally under massive surveillance, it is not clear why the patrol officers instigated this encounter, although one theory is that they did not realize what was happening and just stumbled onto the scene.

The two white patrolmen, Michael Czapski and Richard Worobec, approached the RNA group and gunfire ensued. Patrolman Czapski ended up dead with up to seven bullet wounds. Patrolman Worobec was seriously wounded but managed to get into his squad car and drive away before crashing into a storefront.

Patrolmen Richard Worobec ( left ) and Michael Czapski ( right )

The evidence regarding who shot first is contradictory:

Patrolman Worobec testified that a "lone Negro male" shot them both without provocation.

Multiple witnesses said they heard a single shot, then another, then a sustained volley of gunfire. This could support a scenario in which the officers fired first and the RNA bodyguards returned fire.

At least two of the FBI's undercover agents reported that the patrolmen fired first, but the FBI covered this up and so the account never came out. Another FBI informant said that the RNA bodyguards fired first.

An undercover officer with the Michigan State Police claimed to have witnessed the incident and said that the RNA fired first, but he did not testify in the trials, which raises suspicion about the truthfulness of his account.

People Against Racism, an anti-police brutality group in Detroit, asked the DPD story that the white officers approached the large group of armed RNA men with their guns in their holsters and did nothing to provoke the incident, asking: "Is it reasonable to believe two white cops would approach 10-12 armed black men, with their pistols in their holsters and no weapons in their hands?" (Read the full  document here ).

Detailed Accounts of the Initial Shootout

The DPD released this police radio log, which was an incomplete summary not a full transcript, raising more questions ( source )

The DPD Version: The police department provided the city of Detroit's civil rights agency with a partial and edited "transcript" of the radio log, based on communications with the dispatcher and the squad car of Patrolman Czapski and Patrolman Worobec, as well as other squad cars that responded (left).

At 11:42 p.m., Scout 10-5 (Czapski and Worobec) radioed in, “We got guys with rifles out here Linwood and Euclid.” The dispatcher sent backup, and a minute later Worobec gave a distress call over the radio and the "two officers shot" report went out.

At 11:48 and 11:49 p.m., the transcript reports that responding officers radioed in that they were taking fire from inside the church. As explained below, there was zero forensic evidence to support this claim, and it was almost certainly a cover story to justify the police action in storming the church.

The clear fabrication of the gunfire from inside the church raises the question of what else the DPD left out of or doctored in this incomplete transcript, which was provided to the Detroit Commission on Community Relations as part of its investigation of police abuses inside the church. It seems particularly unlikely that the two officers would have calmly approached a group of armed Black men at night without having their weapons drawn, as Patrolman Worobec later insisted when he claimed that most of the group scattered before a "lone Negro male" shot them both.

Patrolman Richard Worobec was later part of the notorious STRESS operation that  killed at least 22 people , mainly unarmed Black males during undercover decoy operations, between 1971 and 1973. Worobec himself shot and killed two Black teenagers in a  September 1971 incident  that generated massive community protests. He claimed that the youth had attacked him first, but the evidence strongly indicated that he lied to cover up what really happened, and the city of Detroit paid a $270,000 wrongful death settlement to their families.

Michigan State Police Surveillance: The Michigan State (MSP) version (below) is most interesting because it proves that the law enforcement agency had undercover officers on the scene placing the RNA under surveillance, including one who witnessed the shooting.

This five-page Michigan State Police report on the New Bethel Incident is from the files of Governor William Milliken and is marked "confidential."

It provides a log of the reports to the MSP Operations office. The first entry, 12:03 a.m., notes that an MSP "Intelligence vehicle" was present at the intersection during the shooting.

The second page names the MSP undercover officer as Patrolman Landeros of the DPD, who was tasked to the state police intelligence team.

The report notes that Patrolman Landeros gave a statement to the DPD Homicide Bureau--but he never testified at the RNA trials.

This is suspicious. Did Landeros's statement contradict the account of Richard Worobec, the surviving officer?

The third page of the MSP report relays the Detroit Police Department's false story that Black suspects inside the church were wounded in a shootout, when there is no evidence that anyone except DPD officers fired inside.

The 6:50 a.m. entry corrects previous misinformation and says that "12 to 15 colored subjects" fired on the two DPD officers outside the church.

The fourth page provides an updated account of the DPD's version of what happened outside the church. It is likely that at least one of the armed bodyguards named in this entry was an FBI agent.

The entry also notes the arrest of 140+ people inside the church for "conspiracy to commit murder."

The final page lists five Black "suspects" shot inside the church by DPD officers and frames them as having fired on the police when they did not.

Excerpt from Cincinnati Field Office to FBI Director Hoover ( source ). Read the full three-page  document here .

The FBI Informants: At least two of the FBI informants/agents provocateurs told the Cincinnati field office that Patrolmen Worobec and Czapski fired first, and then the RNA bodyguards returned fire.

The document at right is from a heavily redacted report from the FBI's Cincinnati office to Director J. Edgar Hoover. Based on the context, it is clear that at least one and probably two of the undercover informants were sent there by the Cincinnati office and is reporting back. Both say the "police fired first."

The document also makes clear that no one inside the church fired on the police before the DPD rained gunfire into the building.

This document is crucial not only as an eyewitness account insisting that the two white officers provoked the shootout, but also because it proves that FBI Director Hoover lied in his official report about what happened in the New Bethel Incident, found immediately below.

Director J. Edgar Hoover: The FBI Director suppressed all information in the reports he received that contradicted the Detroit Police Department's story that the violent Black radicals in the RNA opened fire unprovoked on the police officers both outside and inside the church. He then sent this memo to Attorney General John Mitchell:

Hoover provided the FBI's official coverup of the New Bethel Incident in this April 4, 1969, memo.

He attributed the account to the FBI's undercover sources, even though he misrepresented what they really said, and to the DPD. Hoover also labeled the RNA a "black extremist" group that instigated the violence both outside and inside the church.

The second page identifies RNA members alleged to have fired on the police officers, based on the undercover FBI informant's account, suppressing the information that the same informant said the police fired first and that no one inside the church shot at the DPD backup.

Hoover also sought to discredit Judge George Crockett, who released the people arrested inside the church and criticized the police abuses, by stating that the Black judge was "in close contact with officials of the Communist Party." The FBI also had a political surveillance file on Crockett, who was a left-wing lawyer before he became a judge.

Hoover concludes that "black extremists" are likely to cause more violence in Detroit.

Black Civilian Witnesses: Multiple witnesses gave statements in the murder trials or to the civil rights investigation by the Detroit Commission on Community Relations. None of them had seen what happened to instigate the encounter, meaning that they did not know whether the two white officers fired first or not. All of them stated that they saw only one Black man (only one of the RNA bodyguards) fire at the officers. This also fits Patrolman Worobec's testimony, and it means that the law enforcement accounts that a large group of RNA bodyguards opened fire were not true. Additionally, the witnesses report that the DPD backup officers were on the scene immediately when the gunfire erupted, which indicates a broader tactical surveillance operation rather than the police department's official story that the squad cars only responded when Patrolman Worobec radioed the dispatcher for help.

Kelly Zanders

Kelly Zanders, a 20-year-old Black female from Cleveland, was leaving the RNA rally and gave her statement to the defense attorneys. She said she did not see the beginning but did see a Black man with a rifle firing at another man on the sidewalk. She also said that Clarence (Chaka) Fuller, who was charged with murder, was with her the whole time and never fired a gun.

Wilbur Gratton

Wilbur Gratton, a 50-year-old Black man and RNA member from Cleveland, said in his affidavit that he saw a man shooting a rifle at another man "lying prone on the sidewalk." He also swore that Chaka Fuller was not the shooter.

Gerald McKinney

Gerald McKinney, a Black man, was driving by and not involved with the RNA. He said he saw a man with a "rifle and he was firing into the back of the police car." McKinney also said that the other DPD officers were already on the scene during the initial shootout.

William Barry, Jr.

William Barry, Jr., a Black man, was riding in the car with Gerald McKinney and said he saw a man on the sidewalk shooting toward the police car. Barry also stated that 15-20 police officers arrived "within seconds," which again raises questions about the veracity of the police log provided by the DPD.

Max Hardeman

Max Hardeman, a Black man, was interviewed for the investigation by the Detroit Commission on Community Relations. He was across the street and said he saw an RNA bodyguard "fire several blasts" at a police officer. Like every other civilian witness, Hardeman saw only one shooter.

The DCCR report concluded that what happened outside the church "has proved impossible to recreate" but was harshly critical of the DPD's actions inside the church, examined next.

Part III: The DPD's Invasion of the Church

"Were basic constitutional rights flouted by acts of reprisal generated from uncontrolled anger over the slaying of a fellow officer?" -- Detroit Commission on Community Relations, investigative report of New Bethel Incident 

All of the civilian witnesses agreed that the solitary man who shot at the white police officers did not flee into the church, as the DPD claimed the shooters did in its official report. Whether the two officers fired first or not in the encounter outside the church is still uncertain to this day. What happened next is not. The contingent of DPD officers on the scene fabricated a story that multiple RNA shooters fled into the church, and that "black extremist" radicals inside the church fired at the officers outside, to justify the armed invasion and brutal retaliation that followed. All non-police testimony and all forensic evidence reveals that no one inside the church fired a shot and that every bullet came from a police weapon.

RNA members held prisoner and "herded up like cattle" after the police invasion; photograph from a legal defense pamphlet by the radical League of Revolutionary Black Workers ( source ).

There were 142 African Americans, including many women and children, still inside the New Bethel Baptist Church after the RNA rally when the police assault began around five minutes after the sidewalk shooting. The police contingent of at least a dozen officers fired around 100 rounds into the church before and during the invasion. The Black civilians took refuge and later described a campaign of racial terror and indiscriminate vengeance by the invading officers, even as they tried to surrender and after they were prisoners. The police officers who invaded the church arrested them all and booked everyone present for conspiracy to commit murder.

 Source : View the full DCCR investigation report  here .

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[influencermagazineuk]

As the highly anticipated Beatles '64 documentary drops on Disney+, acclaimed director Adam McKay kicked up a storm with a pointed critique of "white liberals" and their enduring fascination with The Beatles. McKay, known for directing Don’t Look Up, took to X (formerly Twitter) to share his candid thoughts just hours before the release of David Tedeschi’s Beatles ’64. His posts sparked widespread discussion and debate among fans and critics alike. “Nothing is lamer/funnier than white liberals’ never-ending fascination for The Beatles. It’s so Neo-liberal. ‘They’re the best, right? So let’s never stop micro-focusing on them,’” McKay wrote. He didn't stop there. "Liberals always operate from a 'must get the right answer on the test' list of approved culture. It's so lifeless and flat. Like yeah, 'Happiness is a Warm Gun' and 'Day in the Life' are great tunes, but let's move past age 13," he added, sharing his opinion that infatuation with the group feels staid and overly groupthink. Red Carpet Report on Mingle Media TV from Culver City, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons A Polarizing Perspective Predictably, it led to a flurry of online comments. A user shot back and claimed: "I cannot imagine being sad to live where I let some sort of politics give me a crappy attitude regarding The Beatles of all." McKay countered, saying his comments were not political. "Got nothing to do with politics. It's just that we all get into The Beatles when we're 12 and then we move on. Being over the age of 30 and regularly talking about The Beatles just means you're a bore." He went on, explaining from a personal perspective about his dynamic relationship with music: "And my love of music is a constant source of joy. It changes and grows in ways I can't predict. But good lord, to watch a Beatles doc every year? Shoot me dead now." McKay's comments fall during increased buzz for Beatles '64, a Martin Scorsese-produced documentary that reexamines the meteoric ascension of the band through their first U.S. tour. The film is directed by David Tedeschi and comprises rare, newly restored 4K footage taken by Albert and David Maysles for the original 1964 documentary, What's Happening! The Beatles in the U.S.A. The project gives fans an intimate look at The Beatles during their groundbreaking era in the United States, blending archival footage with behind-the-scenes moments. This nostalgic trip to Beatlemania has been met with excitement, particularly among long-time fans of the Fab Four. McKay's review is also part of a larger conversation about the role of The Beatles in contemporary culture. For decades, the band has been celebrated across generations, with their music often being used as a cultural reference point. However, McKay’s comments suggest a frustration with the fixation on certain icons at the expense of broader musical exploration. While acknowledging The Beatles’ talent and enduring appeal, he calls for more diversity in cultural discourse, urging people to move beyond what he perceives as a repetitive focus on past icons. Many fans find it timeless, while others seem to agree with McKay on the fact that such affection can be stagnant or too restrictive. The argument really brings to question the very nature of how society makes room for the celebration of cultural heritage without allowing any newness in perspective. Beatles '64: More of the Same or Something Different? Whether or not McKay's words ring true, the release of Beatles '64 is sure to reignite widespread appreciation for the band. Scorsese's involvement and the promise of rare, high-quality footage have already generated considerable excitement. While some, like McKay, may question the need for yet another documentary about the Fab Four, others are thrilled to revisit the energy and cultural significance of their 1964 U.S. tour. For fans, the film is not just about nostalgia—it's about reliving the magic of a moment that defined an era. The conversation sparked by McKay illustrates the tension between reverence to the past and the insistence on new cultural narratives. Through Beatles '64, audiences will come with personal perspectives, whether they are veterans of the Beatles or one of those curious about why everyone is making such a big deal. One thing is sure: The Beatles are a lightning rod for discussing music, culture, and the enduring power of art. Whether celebrated or criticized, their legacy continues to provoke reactions, ensuring their place in the cultural conversation for years to come. Read the full article

[ajcgames]

Prototypical

A few years ago I released a game on Steam. It was nothing even close to being a commercial success since I neither had the marketing budget or presence / community to spread the word out. That and perhaps the game just wasn't good enough for larger appeal.

But despite the lack of commercial traction, I still considered the project an overwhelming success simply by virtue of not just how much it taught me, but by the fact that it was finished in totality. The only projects that fail are the ones that don't get finished. That doesn't mean you can't learn from them, though, and it also really depends on how you measure success - it's not always the case that you have to finish something to determine its value before you move on to other things. At least that's been my experience.

So what do I know heading into this new project? What have I learned from the past that might help me moving forward?

I'm confident I have enough technical knowledge to build what is in my head, but I thought it might be fun to look back at some past projects to reinforce my confidence a little bit.

Below are some screen captures of projects spanning the last 18 years or so. The last one in the list is the only project I took commercial. There's some ugly work in here, but they were all a lot of fun and educational to tinker with when I worked on them, which is the main thing.

Above: A voxel based exploration game where you could land on different planets and explore. The game never made it beyond the terrain generation stage, but I learned a lot about procedural, chunk-based world generation and blending different noise algorithms together.

Above: A concept I'd toyed around with for a long time that took place in a super low-poly environment. You had to maintain a small starship and explore the galaxy. You would have been able to land on planets, kit out machines in your ship and perform science experiments. I made a very low-poly ship environment you could walk around in, and programmed up a really neat effect you could see out of the cockpit when you warped between locations for planets.

Above: I was trying to build a game which was a lot like Delver - a roguelike dungeon crawler - but in a more science-fiction, DOOM-like setting. I never ended up building a game out of it, but I made a really neat 3D level editor where you could carve out rooms, raise and lower floors and apply textures from an in-game texture library. It would spit out an optimised level file in a format that would make it easy to share online.

Above: A cross between Ikaruga and Space Invaders made within a single day, just to see if I could. The enemies shifted left and right on the screen (but never came downwards), randomly shooting bullets of their own colour. You could change your ship's 'polarity' (colour) to absorb these projectiles which would power up your ship allowing you to shoot more projectiles yourself. If you got hit by a single opposing coloured projectile you'd be destroyed. It was pretty hardcore, and made moreso with the inclusion of an extremely difficult mode where the enemies shot huge volumes of return projectiles when hit. Managing your ship's polarity made it fun and frenetic. I was really pleased with this one, especially how quickly it came together.

Above: This 2D grow-em-up was probably the start of my obsession with automation and games that conceivably fit in the 'factory' genre. The game had a large, procedurally-generated 2D environment that stretched from the surface of the world all the way down to a kind of bedrock. In between were different layers and biomes where you could find and cultivate different flora and minerals. You'd harvest these and use them inside machines to craft different items to sell.

One useful technical skill I picked up during this project was understanding how to distribute the updating of millions of tiles over the course of several CPU logic cycles, keeping the game running smooth and allowing the game to scale up to potentially millions more tiles in size with no noticable performance impact.

I had no idea at the time that the very core ideas underneath this game would form a huge part of my desired game development path moving forward.

Above: Back in early 2015 I was inspired by Desktop Dungeons to create a game that played out in single turn time instalments at your own pace. You had a dungeon to explore filled with items and monsters, but nothing happened until you moved. Every time you did, everything else in the dungeon also moved. I had the entire combat system and item system developed, it just needed some concrete objectives or procedural dungeon generation and it probably would've been a neat little game. A couple of months later in 2015 the game 'Crypt of the Necrodancer' released and gave everyone a really good take on the whole 'player moves the rest of the dungeon' concept.

Above: Before I ended up leaving Java for good, I had one last bit of fun creating a Delver-style 3D FPS game set in a procedurally generated dungeon. I learned a reasonable amount about procedural generation whilst working on this project, though it was far from perfect. I built in a roster of collectible items, added a narrative system, and created a whole swathe of poorly-design visuals to boot. I really enjoyed the dark, moody atmosophere though, and it was neat exploring different layouts, searching for the ladder that would take you down to the next level!

Above: Around the same time I was transitioning away from Java and LWJGL, I was getting more into developing prototypes in Unity. One of the early prototypes I put together was a kind of cross between bomberman and Power Stone - a single-screen, couch-multiplayer brawler game. Although I really liked the idea of doing a local multiplayer game, the lack of extended Unity knowledge slowed me down and I eventually abandoned the project. I learned much about how the modelling workflow between Blender and Unity worked, though, as well as a deeper understanding of the relationship of measurement units between the two programs.

Above: I eventually came back to my idea about harvesting and processing natural resources. By this point, the idea had germinated(!) into a fairly sophisticated management / tycoon style concept where you would have to set up a whole factory complex on a randomly-generated map. You'd extract natural resources, use factories and machines to process and combine them into new types of goods. The goal was to take on supply contracts and use a distribution launch platform to send your goods off-world to various orbiting factilities. I took this concept a long way over a good 6 months or or so before taking a few months' break from it.

Above: I returned back to the idea some time after, refining the terrain generation and having a much more solid understanding of the actual game loop. I spent more time on this prototype than any of the others I'd worked on, and I'd keep coming back to this one over the next 18 months.

Above: After a couple of years, I was absolutely convinced this was going to be the first 'full game' I was going to build. A large part of my conviction simply came down to how excited I was about it. At this point, my love of the automation / factory genre was cemented. I was playing a lot of other games in this space at this point, and I really wanted this to be my own spin on the genre. The visuals were much more mature in this project, and I had by now grasped and implemented concepts such as animations, complex file handling and online networking (mainly for level imports, but it was a big step up from previous projects).

The project, sadly, never reached a finish line. Scope creep and the scale of what I was trying to achieve was out of my capabilities. I should have reduced the goal into something more manageable and I would have likely succeeding in getting a complete game from it. My exhaustion from this project would see me taking a hiatus from game development for a good year or so.

Above: When I returned to game dev a year or so later on, I was in the midst of development fever. I had recently completed development on a 3D game for a work client, and I was buzzing to create something new. I opted for a simple idea that I could rapily prototype levels for, and I ended up having a lot of fun with a take on the marble-run concept.

The game ended up being so much fun to work on that it eventually became my first full-release game (Spin & Roll), reaching the Steam store on PC. I even released a free DLC pack a few months' after release within which I was able to push the limits of what I'd made a little further.

I'm still extremely proud of the project, despite its low sales numbers. It brought together everything I was able to do within one package - programming, design, 3D modelling and a lot of knowledge I was picking up about marketing and managing a tangible, sellable product. I also learned much about Valve's Steam platform, integrating the Steamworks API, and how the levers and buttons of Steam's backend worked for developers.

I suppose the biggest surprise to me was just how much work comes after the development of the game. The production of marketing resources, press releases, community management and other factors consumed an enormous amount of time. I definitely picked up a lot of useful knowledge over this period of time.

So what now?

Well, aside from this post being much longer than I'd originally intended it to be, I guess I should frame my plans within the context of everything I've shown above.

The game I'm planning to make will be a 3D game, in a similar vantage point to a strategy / tycoon type of game (like Production Line or Megaquarium). I know I can already achieve the bones of things like moving a camera around a 3D environment, placing objects on it, and having those objects manage their own state and processes.

Some things I will be absolutely new to are things like conveyor belts (yes, I want to have them! I have no idea how to make them!). I'm looking forward to exploring how to get those working. I have some thoughts which I might detail in another post, but I'm going to walk before I try and run on this.

I'd also like to make sure that I include some kind of time acceleration capabilities (similar to some RTS games). One thing I appreciate as a player is the ability to move time forward a little quicker if I'm just waiting for something to finish.

Beyond this, I am going to try and avoid the same mistakes as my last big factory game and develop with a slightly different methodology. I'm quietly confident that this alternative style might work better for me, but we'll see.

I do try and plan things out ahead of time, but sometimes game development is a bit of an organic process. Sometimes an idea is just a lump of clay. It's rough and unrefined, and you have to poke and prod it a bit to discover other things hiding in there.

I know my game needs two main components - items coming into the factory, and items going out (into, I guess, some kind of 'goal' container or output hatch or something). If I can get those two things built first, using the development time to figure out the literal conveyor belt mechanics that links those two things together, I'll then have time to find other things to put inbetween to make it more fun.

I'll go into some more detail about this soon, but for now I think I'll leave this mammoth post well alone and let my brain rest for a while. Or at least until I've had another coffee.

[cowabummerbatman]

My first big post on this blog and it's gonna be about -you guessed it- OBSCURE SONIC CHARACTERS!

These are my silly little headcanons about The Hooligans because I love them dearly :>

TRIGGER WARNING for the following things mentioned or explicitly stated in this list: Death, murder, unintentional self-harm, and swearing!

Oh, right, before reading this you should know that my idea of what Bean's mom looks like is adokle's version of her! You can see her here and here, along with Bin, Pin, and Lucy. And a few of my ideas for Bark are pulled from this fic, here! Now that we have that out of the way...

Let's start it off with the leader of this illustrious group of ne'er-do-wells, Fang the Sniper! Or Nack the Weasel. Whatever you wanna call him.

I believe he is a Jerboa/Wolf/Weasel mix!

He gets his Jerboa/Wolf genes from his mother and his Weasel genes from his father.

He had a really messed up childhood. Man's was not okay.

Was raised by his sister, Nic, for the majority of his childhood.

Fang was born on January 1st and Nic was born on December 31st. They were born five minutes apart.

He and Nic stayed together for a surprisingly long time, despite the fact that they absolutely despised each other.

He got his hat from his father on one of his earlier birthdays. He cherishes that hat more than everything else he owns.

Yes, including the Marvelous Queen. Awesome bikes are an easy fix, but a hat from the only family member that he actually loved? That's priceless.

He used to hold a very, very minuscule soft spot for Nic before he killed her.

He still hasn't processed that the two dumbasses he got stuck with have miraculously found their way into his heart (If you ever asked him, he'd probably shoot you).

Bark's moral compass actually has ended up rubbing off on him, more or less.

Bean beats him in soccer all the time. Fang will forever be bitter about this.

Despite how much he bitches and moans, he actually really enjoys hanging out with Bark and Bean. Even if their versions of fun include boring museum visits or blowing up bingo clubs.

He's Bisexual and Aromantic (either that or AroSpec, I'm not too sure).

He thinks that wearing cologne is just a "faster way to shower". He will not take criticism (Also, he wears the cheapest cologne he can find).

He always smells at least a little bit like gasoline.

Now onto the silent softie, Bark the Polar Bear!

You don't see many Polar Bears around, even in places like North Island or the Aurora Ice Fields. The species is largely thought to be extinct.

This leads to a lot of people being shocked/stunned whenever Bark comes around, either that or just not knowing what species he is (Only one of the reasons he has anxiety around people he doesn't know).

He refuses to talk about his family; the only person he's ever opened up to about them is Bean (And Fang to a considerably lesser extent).

He speaks Russian!

He's an extremely avid listener, he loves listening to people talk-- which is one of the reasons he and Bean get along so well.

He runs surprisingly cold, like, all of the time. Bean thinks it's magic but Fang is pretty sure it's just a polar bear thing.

Either way, it's heaven in the summer and hotter climates but absolute hell during the winter and in frigid climates.

This is also a good time to mention that Bark is a huuuuge cuddle bug. Bean loves it, Fang used to hate it but he tolerates it now.

Yes, he does think Bean is the funniest fucking person alive. What about it.

Smells like strawberry shampoo and campfire smoke.

He is Demiromantic and Asexual.

And last but most definitely not least, the dynamic dynamo, Bean the Dynamite!

Was raised by his uncle Pin and grandma Lucy.

He does have a wind-up punch like his father and uncle, but he rarely uses it.

His parents, Bin and Rin, were archeologists/explorers.

Pin is well-renowned in the wrestling industry and works a lot of odd jobs.

And Lucy is a gardener/librarian (Also a former wrestler).

He got his bomb-throwing ability from his mom! Well, not her exactly, but her side of the family.

He calls Pin and Lucy at least twice a month to catch up on stuff (He deliberately leaves out the part where he's been running with a renowned mercenary).

He also visits Lucy whenever he has the time or if he's in the area.

He has ADHD!

Of which he doesn't take meds for, whoops.

He's built up a lot of emotional walls throughout the years. He could count on one hand the number of people that have seen him cry.

Funny Man™

He always smells like burning chemicals covered in a layer of cheap cologne and strawberry shampoo.

He stims by pacing, flapping his hands, biting himself and tugging on his feathers.

He tends to cause harm to himself without realizing it. Pulling out feathers, scratching himself too hard, etc.

He wears black fingerless gloves with gold ring cuffs and black & yellow sneakers.

He got his bandana from his mom and his gloves from his dad.

Yes, he has done the cartoon anvil thing to someone. And the comically large hammer.

He can speak 13 languages: English, Spanish, French, Dutch, Welsh, German, Norwegian, Italian, Barese, Vietnamese, Swedish, Russian, and Portuguese.

He is Aromantic and Asexual.

Alrighty, that's all of the ones I can think of right now.

If you want to hear more specific headcanons about any of them, or just any sonic characters in general, then shoot me an ask!

Either that or you can tell me some of your headcanons! I like hearing other people's thoughts on characters. :D

[scaryscarecrows]

I'd Crawl on Broken Glass to be the One That Laughs Last

Gotham’s gone straight to Hell in a handbasket. Scarecrow’s dead, which is no loss, but Bruce is missing, Arkham blew up for reasons unknown, and the Arkham Knight’s Militia is still in control. Oh, sure, there’s a fair chunk of them in lockup, but they’ve been getting steadily more riled as the days wear on (three days since the Asylum, their boss has to be dead, who’s in charge now?), and the tanks are still running patrols, the bombs are still in the road, and there are checkpoints and watchtowers everywhere.

Jim thinks they’re waiting for something. There’s been no assault, not like he thought there might be. The street thugs and any uncaptured Rogues are still allowed to run wild, though the watchtowers have been spotted taking shots at something big flying around out there. Honestly, they’re even leaving the police alone, for the most part...but they will still shoot at the cars if they get too close. It’s like they’re on babysitting duty or something until the Knight gets back. It’s unsettling.

He’s out doing a little exploration-he doubts they’ve killed Batman, or they’d be gone, but Bruce still isn’t around-when something drops onto the roof of his car. He hits the brakes, tires screeching, and narrowly avoids sliding into a tank crossing the road.

Breathe.

Jim has no time to go for his gun before the driver’s side door gets ripped open by what Jim can only describe as the Hulk. The man outside is only a little smaller than Bane*. There’s a rocket launcher on his back and Jim’s sure he’s not the one that landed on the car, because the car would be a pancake.

He’s proven right a second later when the polar opposite of the giant jumps down. That said, this guy might be tiny, but he moves like he knows half a dozen ways to kill you. The cherry on the disaster sundae? Both of them are wearing army fatigues.

Militia. Shit.

“Boys,” he says, already planning on how to get that rocket launcher from the big one, “don’t be stupid.”

The little one doesn’t say anything. The big one laughs and before Jim can move, he’s been pulled out of the car.

“Boss wants to see ya.”

So they have a boss. Who. Who is it? One of their own? Riddler? Penguin? Goddamn Deathstroke? Who is his new problem?

“No.”

“Sorry.” The man does sound mostly sorry. “Not really askin’. C’mon.”

Jim tries to slam his elbow into the man’s collarbone. He doesn’t even really get to move before the little guy grabs his arm and wrenches it behind his back. Not hard enough to dislocate it, but hard enough to be a warning.

“We don’t want to have to hurt you, Commissioner,” the big man says. “We’re just picking you up.”

“Go to Hell.”

A gun presses against his back. Fine. He’ll go. But he won’t like it.

* * *

He’s disarmed, bundled into an APC, and blindfolded. After way too many sharp turns and double-backs, he’s...somewhere in the underside of the city. He’s thinking over near Drescher.

Wherever it is, he’s pulled out of the APC, taken inside somewhere, and handed off to new hands. When the blindfold comes off, his kidnappers are nowhere to be seen.

The men in charge of him now (and only for now, give him time…) are less...unnerving...than the other two. One is wearing the white uniform of a medic, and the other is having a snack. Cashews? Cashews.

The medic is a man on a mission. Jim doesn’t even manage to get out a, ‘you’ll be sorry’ before the man’s turning on his heel, jaw working furiously, and snapping, “Come on.”

“Where are we going.”

“Boss wants to see you, won’t listen to reason. This way.”

He stalks off and the snacker chuckles.

“Cashew?”

“No.”

“Suit yourself.” They follow the medic down a crumbling hallway. “They didn’t scare you too much, did they?”

“What’s with the good-cop-bad-cop routine?” he demands. “Is your friend up there gonna come back and threaten to carve my face off?”

The man just laughs.

“Probably, but he does that to everyone.”

“Sometime today!”

Huh.

Jim thinks they might be in the old mall. Scarecrow had been driving that way when something had happened, and, well, if Jim were going to have an evil base of operations, this would be a good one. Lot of ways in and out, nobody ever comes down here anymore-too dangerous-and it’s big, big enough to hold tanks and soldiers and whatever else these boys have. When they round a corner, he sees a familiar logo and decides that yes, that’s where they are. Hm.

They round another corner and end up in the back of the building. Jim’s not sure what this was, but there’s a corridor lined with doors. The medic stops in front of one and turns, hands clasped behind his back.

“Twenty minutes and no more,” he snarls at Jim. “You’re lucky you get that many minutes. You try anything, you might live to regret it. Might. You tire him out, out you go, I don’t care if it’s been two minutes. Don’t touch shit, don’t knock shit down, don’t--”

“I think he’s got the picture,” his other escort soothes. “Don’t terrorize him.”

“Humph. With the amount of work I had to put in to keep his dumb ass alive, I’m entitled to terrorize people.”

“Still.”

“And I’ll tell you something else. You lay a finger, one solitary finger on him, you so much as breathe too hard--”

“There won’t be anything left to bury,” the other man says, smiles with all his teeth. “Here you go, Commissioner.”

“Twenty. Minutes.”

And then he’s shoved into a room with--and good God, how--the Arkham Knight.

The Knight is lying in bed. He looks the worse for wear, but Jim can’t quite muster up pity for him. This...this is his fault. Gotham, Bruce, Barbara…

He swallows down the rage. Not because it’s the right thing to do, but because the Knight’s not alone. Jim supposes they wouldn’t just leave him unattended, not with those injuries, but still.

The Knight doesn’t seem to notice Jim. He’s certainly not looking at him. He’s looking at the laptop the other man has. Right now, at this exact second, he looks like a sick kid, wan and tired, eyes fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake. But he’s not. Robin or not, he’s...the Knight’s not that boy anymore. Robin wouldn’t have done this, any of this. Robin’s dead.

“Sir.” The other man here isn’t wearing a uniform, he’s wearing jeans and a raggedy flannel that hangs open over some sort of band shirt. But his bearing is still that of a soldier’s, and the rifle leaning against the wall by his chair is top-of-the-line. “Gordon’s here.”

“Hrm?”

“Remember? You wanted to see him.” The Knight blinks a few times, heavy and confused, and tries to lever himself up before his companion reaches over to pin his shoulder. “Don’t do that.”

More confused silence. Now that he’s moved his head, Jim can see his pupils are blown wide. That’s not a surprise. He’s pretty sure he was in Arkham when it came down, and he hadn’t looked well before that.

Serves him right, he thinks, remembering the cuts on Barbara’s cheeks and chin. Serves the bastard right.

He keeps his mouth shut. The laptop has been closed and set aside, and the rifle is now in its owner’s lap. It’s casual enough, but the threat’s there all the same: you’ll go through me to get to him.

He wonders, a bit, what drives these men. He doesn’t really care, but he wonders a little all the same. Even the ones in the cells have been resolute that ‘the boss’ will get them out, that he’s got everything in hand, just you wait and see.

...in their defense, Jim had thought he had to be dead, and yet here he is. So.

“S’right,” the Knight finally breathes. He sounds terrible, and Jim suddenly matches the purple swelling on his throat to handprints. That scares him. Not out of pity or sympathy, but because what little he’s seen of the man says he can handle himself. Whoever did that… “S’right.”

“You up for it?”

He’d better be. Jim was kidnapped off the street for this.

“Yes.” Good. “Glad to see you’re unharmed.”

No thanks to you, Jim doesn’t snap, resolutely ignores the memory of the Knight holding up his hands and telling Scarecrow, voice painfully earnest, to take him and let Jim and his men and Robin leave in one piece. He settles for a curt nod, can’t quite muster up a, wish I could say the same.

The Knight pulls in a painful-sounding breath and drops his head to the side.

“Bring up the footage for Commissioner Gordon, would you?”

“Yessir.” The laptop returns, balanced delicately over the rifle. Jim doesn’t know if he wants to know what’s going on. “Hang on...give it a sec to load…”

The Knight moves and visibly bites back a wince, but the new angle means that Jim can see the full extent of the bruising on his neck.

“There we go--you okay, boss?”

“Ribs,” he breathes. “They don’t like it when people zipline into them.”

What.

“Need me to call--”

“No.” He swallows hard and beckons Jim closer. “M’fine. Just sore. And stiff.” He clears his throat, grimacing. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount.”

“M’just not used to being still this long--”

“Deal,” his friend says sharply. The Knight just grins, but that annoys the other guy. “Did you miss the flatline bit?”

“Technically?”

“I--never mind.” He makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “Never mind...okay, all set.”

He turns the laptop around and Jim hesitates before perching on the very edge of the bed. Nothing terrible happens to him.

“This is footage from my helmet. How it kept going after that level of trauma, I’ll never know, but my IT department managed to recover it remotely.”

The footage picks up in a dark area, abandoned sewer network or something, probably, and it’s glitchy and stuttery.

Bruce has been caught on camera before, but not like this. This is...savage, animalistic. He comes out of nowhere, dodging gunfire and seemingly oblivious to the shouts of surprise, and moves in via a flying kick to the camera itself, which goes white and static-y for a second. A few of them come up behind him and suffer backhands and powerful kicks for their troubles, and then Bruce fills up the frame, shoulders positioned like he’s got his arms out and...and...

He looks at the Knight, looks at the bruises around his neck, and looks back at the screen in time to see Bruce going down and being dragged backwards.

“He do this to you?”

The look the man gives him is so reminiscent of the little boy Jim remembers that it makes his head spin. It screams, I know you’re not really that stupid...right?

“Well, I didn’t do it to myself.”

“--okay, sir, I’m just gonna…”

The helmet moves and Jim spots the medic from earlier before it gets set on the ground, facing Bruce. Bruce is chained to a pipe, seemingly unconscious.

“Don’t talk, just nod. Can you breathe okay?”

There’s an obvious cut--they don’t want to share it all, apparently--and then Bruce stirs and starts...giggling. Jim knows that giggle.

“What the hell.”

The Knight shudders and burrows under his blankets.

“It’s complicated. We’re reasonably sure he’s been eliminated, or at the very least contained, but--” A hand moves, presumably indicating himself. “I made it out. He might have, too.”

His friend closes his laptop and sets it aside.

“We’ve got teams sweeping Arkham’s grounds to the best of our ability,” he says. “Unfortunately, we are not a rescue team and as such are not fully equipped to handle the more unstable areas. That said, given the police department’s...track record...we would very much prefer that your men stay out of our way until we either find the individual formerly known as the Batman, or definitively confirm his demise. We’re hoping that at the very least, any injuries he may have sustained slowed him down, but we can’t prove that, given the lack of video footage for the incident.”

“It’s our understanding that Batman has, at least for the time being, lost his fight against the effects of J.” The Knight swallows. “Of Joker’s blood. I attempted to contain him--”

“Contain, my ass,” his friend grumbles. The Knight ignores him.

“I attempted to contain him,” he says again, “via...ah…”

“He blew up the goddamn asylum with himself and Batman inside,” comes the sharp interjection. “In case you managed to miss that.”

Jim had not managed to miss that, thank you very much.

“I noticed,” he says dryly. The Knight huffs a painful-sounding laugh and falls silent.

There’s. There’s a lot Jim wants to say. The Knight was Robin, and Joker killed him (and made sure they all knew it, that tape, good God, he’d sent it to everyone and Jim remembers Dove bursting into tears when she tried to tell him), but he’s not dead now, and look at what he’s done.

Much as he’d like to demand answers--or at least bring half of that up--he won’t. He doubts the man with the laptop will react well; now that he really looks, the man’s tense, clearly poised to move if he has to.

Jim can probably take him. He absolutely can’t take the others that will come at the commotion.

There’s a small dinging sound, and silence, and then an urgent, “Sir. Sir.”

“Hrm?”

“We got something.”

The Knight blinks a few times before half-surging up and demanding, “Let’s go, let’s go, then, help me up--”

“Chair or Trent?”

“Neither--”

“Chair or Trent.”

“Chair,” he grumbles after a second. “But I can walk on my own--”

“Yeah, but if the doc sees you, he’ll be mad. Here it is.”

Jim moves, semi-prepared to offer to help but not really wanting to, but they must have a system, because the Knight’s in the chair with a blanket in short order.

“I feel like a cheap Bond villain,” he’s complaining now. “One that rolls down a ramp into an electrified pool or something.”

“Maybe next time, you’ll consider your life choices, sir.”

“They weren’t supposed to come back to haunt me!”

“I know, sir.”

“Christ...what do we have.”

Should he…? Sure, apparently.

What a day. He needs a drink. A good strong one.

“My understanding is it’s better seen than explained, sir. No body, I don’t think.”

“Fantastic...the bastard’ll survive anything.”

Jim privately thinks the same applies to him, but he doesn’t share that thought. He doubts it will go over well.

The computer room isn’t crammed full of people. There’s one guy on the monitors and another one-one of the ones from before, actually, the one with the cashews-lounging in a chair next to him, drinking a Coke.

“What’s going on, you said something turned up--” He doesn’t quite hide a shiver, but when the other people in the room zero in on him, he shakes his head and insists, “M’fine.”

“Boss, I can link this to a laptop if you’re s’posed to be in bed--”

“M’fine. Pull up the footage.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” monitor-guy says, spinning around and wheeling over to make room. “Looks like he got out, same as you.”

“Seriously?”

“Would I joke when it mattered, sir? Here, look. See this?” He makes the screen bigger. “That look familiar to you?”

It certainly looks familiar to Jim. Bruce’s cowl is difficult to mistake, and there it is, crumpled in the rubble. It’s singed, and one of the ears is broken, but it is Bruce’s cowl.

“Damn,” the Knight breathes, and...Jim doesn’t like admitting it, not after tonight, but...he looks so young. A scared little boy, that’s all. “That’s not good.”

“What do we do, sir?”

“We don’t even know for sure if he’s out.” The Knight’s friend leans over the chair to get a better look at the monitor. “Maybe he tried getting out and died, we don’t--”

“I made it out,” the Knight says quietly.

There’s a wave of annoyed grumbling that includes at least one, ‘self-sacrificing dumbass’ and a, ‘in spite of your best efforts’. Jim has to wonder about that one. He can’t muster up that much sympathy, but he does wonder.

The Knight just sighs and adjusts his blanket around his shoulders.

“Fair. Anyways, seeing as I found a way out, it’s not unlikely that he’s done the same, barring the. The possibility of an instant death. I suspect we wound up in a pocket, though, so.”

“You didn’t notice anything on your way out?” Jim demands. “Was he right with you?”

“I was--”

“Concussed and bleeding to death,” a new voice snaps. “And in no shape to be walking, let alone note-taking. What the hell are you doing out of bed?”

“Briefing the--”

“Literally anybody else can do that.” The angry voice belongs to the medic from before. “You don’t seem to understand what ‘flatline’ means, sir, or maybe you’ve just got a death wish, but tough fucking titty, said the kitty, you’re not dying on my watch. Say bye-bye to the commissioner, you’re going back to bed and staying there or on God, I’ll put you in a coma and keep you there until you don’t have so much as a bruise. Do I make myself clear?”

Jim expects argument. None of the Robins ever let Batman boss them around to that extent, and he knows damn well that if he’d backtalked his superiors like that, he’d be in, frankly, deep shit. But the Knight just sighs.

“He’s been here long enough, anyway.” Long enough for what? “Keep your men out of our way, Commissioner. No offense, but Batman existed for a reason. You can’t handle him.”

Jim bristles.

“Can’t handle--”

“You know it’s true,” he snaps, and straightens up, turns to the man with the cashews. “Call everyone back.” All of a sudden that’s no longer a little boy playing Soldiers. That’s the man that crippled Gotham within hours. “I want everyone off the streets and back at base, now. Do not engage under any circumstances.”

“Yessir.”

“Get into the street cameras,” he continues. “If a rat comes out of a sewer, I want to see it. I want whatever drones we have left out and searching, but leave the car alone. That hasn’t worked so far and I’m not losing more--”

He must breathe wrong, because he suddenly starts coughing, harsh, violent whoops from down in his chest.

“Get him back to bed,” the medic orders once the coughs cease. “Or he’ll be Snow White and believe you me, nobody is getting in here to kiss him awake.”

“Jones--”

“We can handle this, sir. We’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“But--”

“You trained us for this, remember? We’re professionals.”

The Knight falls silent, one hand still pressed against his ribs, and finally melts back into his chair.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Bye, commish.”

He doesn’t recognize the men that take him back. The streets are empty, though, barring the patrolling drones, and they make it back to the GCPD unscathed.

Unfortunately, Jim returns to, quite frankly, a disaster. The officers on duty are tied up, and the militia cells are empty. Not a man left. He’s just freeing Cash when the broadcast screen crackles and the Knight appears on it, face serious.

“I mean it, Commissioner,” he says. “Keep out of the way, or I’ll put you in a cell instead.”

“You--”

“Tell Bullock hey for me, would ya?” He leans forward. “Stay safe.”

Click.

THE END

*I’m figuring Bane is bigger than the Giant Mooks because his boss fight consists of you jumping on him to slash his Venom tubes AND because he can and will run you over, while Giant Mooks of any affiliation are not rideable and don’t run.

[ventoren-legacy]

The Lab Incident

“Start it up again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Akirris’ commands were never met with hesitation or question. He walked a fine line between employer and Sith Lord, operating labs on neutral planets. He had no compunction about hiring the best minds and using them to their full extent, no matter where they placed their allegiance. Eilissa was no exception. The young female Nautolan was a star pupil and a legendary assistant, by Akirris’ way of thinking. Pulled from his intern pool after she signed up for self-defense classes, Eilissa had proven invaluable as a personal assistant and lab tech. When she proved Force-sensitive, it was only natural for him to take her on as an apprentice.

She keyed the necessary commands into her datapad as Akirris kept his eyes on the monitors, watching the data readouts. He was attempting to reconcile the magnetic polarization of the hyperdrive test module with a relic from one of the ancient ruins on Dromund Kaas - a simple test, designed to explore the physical ramifications of Force manifestation. The power from the relic leaked out into the room, he could feel it and he knew Eilissa could too, like a living thing, oppressive and overbearing. As a Sith, wrestling with such things and bending them to his will was a skill he had learned - and he attempted to impart those skills to others, including his assistant. Now it was just a matter of measuring and recording its effects on the hyperspatial anomaly created by a hyperdrive.

As the hyperdrive spun to life, the readouts began to fluctuate. Reaching out with the Force, Akirris turned dials and pressed keys on the harmonizing actuator’s control panel, attempting to regulate the frequency of the hyperdrive’s magnetic resonance with that of the relic. Soon, both were humming firmly, their resonances bound at the same frequency through polarization.

It was a breakthrough, but Akirris had no time to revel in it. Suddenly, despite his care, the readings spiked, sending the indicators into the red. “Shut it down,” he yelled over the noise, as the hyperdrive test module spun faster, whipping the air in the lab into a circular breeze. As it ripped flimsiplast and styluses from desks, shifted tools on shelves, and roared ever louder, Eilissa’s dark eyes grew wide with concern. “It’s not shutting down, sir,” she said, tapping keys on her datapad with growing frequency.

Akirris glanced at her, glanced at her datapad, then reached for the power cables with the Force. He was too slow.

Orrana looked up from her outdated copy of Sith Socialites Magazine in the waiting room. She felt the pressure building in the Force, and she felt another pressure building, a tension that warped her sense of reality. Used to the effects of unshielded hyperdrive experimentation, she almost went back to her reading, waiting for Akirris to begin his lunch break, but a spike of alarm, first from her husband, then from his new apprentice, sent her to her feet. She felt a new wave of imminent danger, and began to run, not away from it, but toward, reaching deep into the Force to lend wings to her feet.

The explosion rocked the entire facility. As it began, Akirris felt time stretch and slow as his adrenaline spiked and he reflexively poured his awareness into the Force. Shifting his focus, he reached for Eilissa, wrapping her in the fist of the dark side and yanking her to him. Twisting, he covered her with his body - and armored lab coat - as flames began to lick up the inside of the hyperdrive casing. He pushed downward with the Force and upward with his legs, leaping for the doorway with all the power of both he could muster.

The blast followed milliseconds after. The door’s automatic sensors were too slow to open, and Akirris and Eilissa were thrown against the heavy durasteel, slamming into it hard enough to leave a dent. Heat and light rushed toward them, flames licking through the igniting oxygen in the air, threatening to put an end to all their experimentation, forever.

Suddenly, the heavy security door was ripped free of its frame, shooting outward, and a wall of Force energy imposed itself between the groaning scientists and the gout of flame, a purple crackling brilliance holding certain fiery death at bay. Physics strained as the fire pressed outward, but slowly, inexorably, it was forced back, held by the will of a powerful Sith Lord.

Orrana strained to hold an explosion that would rip any capital ship apart, reaching deep through the Force and hissing through her teeth as she pulled against the Force itself, bending more and more to her will, channeling enough that it threatened to burn her from the inside out. She fed the hungry maw of the Dark with her own rage and fear, the thought of what she had almost allowed to happen filling her with a profusion of both. Akirris was not allowed to die until she was done with him. Akirris was not allowed to die in the arms of another woman. Akirris was not allowed to die. She would not allow it. She. Would. Not.

Even cushioned by the Force as he was, the impact was enough to stun him. Barely aware of what he was seeing, Akirris slid forward, pulling himself with one hand, pulling the unconscious form of his apprentice along the floor with the other. Orrana stood above him, her face twisted in a seething expression of fury, both hands outstretched as she held the flames at bay. He watched in awe as they began to recede, forced into a roiling ball of heat and death by Orrana’s will.

Orrana strained to pull the Force to her, but it hurt, oh stars, how it hurt. She screamed, fury and pain ripping from her throat as she held the explosion in the Force, crushing it with her will to see Akirris live. When her own pain and fear were not enough, she turned to other sources. She pulled the fear of the other employees - fear of the explosion, fear of their sith lord employer, fear of herself - into her, amplifying it with sorcery skills long practiced. When that still was not enough to contain and direct the dizzying torrent of fire and ice the Force poured into her, she reached for the only other source of the Dark Side. Gripping the energy from the recovered relic in the fist of her will, she tore it free from the hyperdrive resonance, funneling it toward herself. With a final surge of effort, she clenched the explosion in the Force, smothering it with the Dark Side, and suddenly it was gone, wiped from existence by her rage, winking out to leave only the smoldering wreck of the hyperdrive test module and the melting, charred relic, bereft entirely of what Force energy it had once contained.

She turned her attention immediately to Akirris and Eilissa, delving each of them with the Force and flooding them with the leftover energy she held. Flesh and sinew, cloven by shrapnel from the exploding hyperdrive casing, knit itself back together. Burns soothed themselves and healed without a mark, and with a final blast of energy they both shot awake, sitting up with gasps as Orrana wiped the effects of the concussive blasts from their brains, returning them to alertness.

She rounded on them as soon as they were able to understand her. “What were you thinking? A blast like that could have leveled the facility, not only yourselves. I’ve told you time and again that you need to do the research on which relics you’re using, not only on how they interact. Just because it resonates with the Force doesn’t mean it’s safe to use. How could you have almost let this happen? How could you…” She broke off, trying unsuccessfully to strangle sobs as the Force and her adrenaline both drained, leaving her gasping and empty. “H-how c-could you alm-most l-leave m-me…”

Akirris shot to his feet, moving with alacrity to catch the pureblood Sith Lord as her knees buckled. He sat down with her as she collapsed, winded from the ordeal and Orrana’s display of power. “It’s a mistake I’m not likely to make again. You saved us both, mon chere,” he said, his thick accent from the Mirialis River Delta made thicker by emotion. “I’m so proud of you.”

Eilissa knelt close by, scanning them both to check their vitals before centering herself. “Thank you both, my lords,” she said, humbly. “I’d have died if not for you.” Orrana and Akirris nodded as the fire suppressant system in Akirris’ office laboratory kicked on, dousing the smoldering wreckage and putting an end to the danger.

When they were finally all recovered enough to stand, Akirris spoke first. “We’re going to need to order a new test module.” Orrana rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. “You’re going to keep trying until you get it, aren’t you,” she asked. He nodded. “Stubborn swamp donkey,” she said, lovingly.

                         Fin

[ozzdog12]

2020 Top 7 (and 1)

2020 am I right? We saw an insane amount of games come out and 2 brand new consoles. What a wild and weird year for gaming, and life in general. In case you are relatively new here, and to be honest that would be completely fair considering I don't post very often on Tumblr anymore, every year going on the last 4 years (on here) I have done a Top 7 (& 1) for my favorite videogames of the year. Check out 2019, 2018, & 2017. What’s wild, as I look back on my list of games that I’ve completed and played, only maybe 10 came out this year. 2020 was a huge backlog year. 

Lets get on with the ‘And 1!”

Favorite Game that Didn’t Come out in 2020: Control (PS4)

Control may very well have been my 2019 Game of the Year, had I played it in 2019. I LOVED Control. I wanted to play it in 2019, but initial reports that it was a little rough on base consoles put me off until it was fixed. And Holy smokes what an insanely fun and trippy game once I finally started it. I knew within the first 20 minutes this was going to be the shit when I went down a hall, walked into a room and talked to the “janitor” left out a door behind him and the entire building had shifted. I’ve always liked Remedy games, but from a distance. Max Payne 1&2 and Alan Wake all oozed with weirdness and intrigue, but never enough for me to finish them. I missed out on Quantum Break. The story is Control is just the right amount of mind f*!$ for me and builds a universe I didn’t know I needed. It take some time to piece everything together, then everything just clicks. The game does have a weird difficulty spike when fighting bosses and the checkpoints were too far apart at times, but those were later patched. I spent an insane amount of time within the Federal Bureau of Control building and even more time after that with the Foundation and AWE DLC and it STILL wasn’t enough. I wanted more. Outside of Prey, I can’t think of another game that stuck in my brain more after I’d finished it. Control is absolutely a MUST PLAY title. In a world where everything sort’ve feels similar, Control stands out of the crowd.

Number 7: Astro’s Playroom (PS5)

I never thought in my wildest dreams that a game I had almost zero interest in playing would end up on my list of favorite games this year. Astro’s Playroom is being labeled as a ‘Tech demo’ but that feels like an insult to what it is. It’s a full fledged game and its free! I’ve paid more for less. A charming little platformer that lives and breathes the history of the Playstation. So many cool Easter eggs and references. It certainly centers its gameplay around the DualSense controller and everything it can do, but at its core, its a completely approachable and forgiving 3D platformer. I played it just to see what it was about, next thing i knew I had completed all the levels and wanted to further explore all the nooks and crannies within the game. I wanted to see everything the game had to offer and I had an absolute blast doing so. Makes me kinda wish I’d played the previous game on PSVR (I’d have to have a PSVR too)

Number 6: Spider-Man: Miles Morales (PS5)

Another quality title, albeit a spin-off, from Insomniac to add to their Spider Man universe. Gameplay felt obviously like Spider-Man, but Miles has unique abilities that made the game feel different enough, especially the cloak and stealth. I enjoyed the fact that it was short and concise. The issue with most ‘open-world’ games is that they are entirely too bloated with unnecessary filler content (I’ll get to that in a later game), something I felt the first game suffered from, but I also understand why they are there. However I could’ve use one or two more story missions to help flesh out some characters, but it wasn’t required and didn’t change my opinion one way or the other. My one BIG gripe was with Miles himself. He is an extremely smart young kid, but so incredibly naïve. Peter Parker tells him the one thing he SHOULD NOT do is tell people he is Spider-Man. I get it, that’s part of his growth, but Miles thinks he can just solve his problems by revealing his identity and it almost certainly never works out. 

Number 5: The Last of Us: Part 2 (PS4)

The Last of Us Part 2 may be the most polarizing game in the history of the medium, but for the absolute wrong reasons. I’m in the minority that I very much enjoyed my experience with TLOU2, quite a bit actually. Its better in every single way over its predecessor, except the overall story. There are plenty of fair criticisms to be had about the story and various things within the game itself, but I thought the gameplay was so tight and crunchy. There were genuine moments of suspense and terror that I felt that no other game has ever given me. The entire hospital section (2nd time) was so susensful, I had to put my controller down to gther myself. Some of my favorite moments in the series I experienced with a character I wasn’t overly fond of. How many games can do that? The Last of Us Part 2 was meant to invoke emotion, not necessarily joy. I think that's what people lost along the way. Say what you will about the direction Naughty Dog has taken over the years, but you would be hard pressed to find a studio that makes games graphically better than they do. Yes, I know about their crunch culture, but this is not a place for that. I will say, the game was a tad bit too long, which is not something it typically say for a single player, narrative driven game. The pacing and the way the story was told wasn’t my favorite, but I respect what it was trying to do, even if it failed in some aspect of that, I finished the game within the week it was released. Something I RARELY ever do. I’m a father and I related with Joel a lot in TLOU, but I also recognized how wrong he was. There is a lesson to be learned. Your actions always have consequences and while he was doing what he thought was the right thing, it wasn’t his choice to make, and in doing so set up a series of events that were entirely avoidable, but again, that’s the point isn’t it?

Number 4: Grindstone (Switch)

I’m counting this as a 2020 game since it just came to the Switch this year ( less than a month ago) but its not the first time I’ve played it. Grindstone was the only reason I kept my Apple Arcade subscription and when I let it lapse, there was a void I just couldn’t fill. I bought Puzzle Quest on Switch but it just wasn't the same. Its THE perfect game for bite sized play, even though in its addictive nature, you’ll clear a few levels and an hour has passed before you know it. It has the perfect amount of depth that most ‘match’ games don't. You have different weapons, items, and outfits w/perks to use and experiment with to keep it fresh. I went months without playing my Switch and when this was announced in August, I couldn’t wait! Sadly, I had to wait 3 months, but since then I have spent so much time on the Switch. It gave me a reason to play it again. The art style and humour is great. The variety of enemies and challenge is just right. I can’t recommend it enough. Seriously, check this game out!

Number 3: Doom Eternal (Xbox One)

I will be the first to tell you, I did not like Doom (2016). I found it extremely boring and trite. I understood what Doom(2016) was doing and it succeeded, maybe too much. Nostalgia is a helluva thing. So in saying that, I was mildly interested in Doom Eternal. Doom Eternal is nothing like 2016 outside of it being a Doom game that connects to the rest of them (& also being a sequel to 2016). The mechanics are drastically different with more platforming (for better or worse). Eternal is challenging, at times very hard, especially early on. Eternal has no respect for its players, in a weirdly good way. It laughs at how you’ve played FPS before this one and WILL MAKE you play it its way, not your way. Yes, you point and shoot, but ammo is scare and you MUST use everything in your arsenal. No more using just 2 guns for the whole game. The enemies are relentless. Sometimes you have to pause and take a breath after a battle because you go a 100 mph for the whole fight. You have to continuously move or you die. There is an enticing rhythm to it. I categorize Eternal as ‘Blood Ballet’. Its a game where when your feeling it, much like a rhythm game, you get in the zone and there is no stopping demons from getting slayed. Surprisingly, unlike most games in the genre, it seemed to get easier (sans one extremely frustrating platforming section late in the game) the longer you played it. Was that a testament that I ‘learned’ the Eternal way or it truly did get easier? I don’t know, but the final Boss(es) were....easy.. I had more problems and deaths within the first 4 hours than I did the final 8-9 hours. The multiplayer was also surprisingly fun. The older I get, the less interested I am in multiplayer, but I found myself coming back for more for a good month or so. 

Number 2: Gears Tactics (Xbox One)

As 2020 comes to a close, I came to a stunning realization. I might be a bigger Gears of War fan than I had previously thought. Don’t get me wrong. I love Gears, but I seem to love Gears more than I thought. I'm way more invested into the lore than I recall. Anyways, Gears Tactics is everything XCOM 2 SHOULD’VE been. Not only does Gears Tactics utilize the Overwatch action, its makes it EXTREMELY important. The story revolves around the father of Kait Diaz, Gabe and a ragtag group of mostly random soldiers to take down Ukkon. Anyone who is remotely interested in the Gears universe will love the story and references. The gameplay is just so damn satisfying. The bosses are very challenging and different. I actually had to change my strategy to finish the final boss. I experimented with a totally different style of class and was rewarded for it. The post game stuff is also aplenty. This game scratched a VERY specific itch for me and I’m itchy to jump back in. I’m glad this came to Xbox One because I’m current computer could not run it.

Number 1: Ghost of Tsushima (PS4)

I have a very odd relationship with massive open world games. I love them, but I get very burnt out on them. They all have a relatively same-y formula and are often populated with bloat. GoT does have some of that but to its advantage, its not very populated, in a good way. One of the things that I really appreciated about GoT and its side quest is most of them felt meaningful. The thing that really stood out to me about GoT is the absolutely satisfying combat. It just feels SO GOOD. It requires timing and patience. There are different fighting styles for different enemies and even the armor you wear is more than just cosmetic. The combat is so fun and satisfying that I was immediately excited when they announced Legends, a multiplayer add on, for free. Its so much fun and is a blast to play with a group of friends. I’m sporadically still playing the Legends mode. I initially wanted to play the game in ‘Kurosawa’ mode but I am glad I didn’t because the game, even on the PS4 is stunning, and on the upgrade on PS5 is jaw-droppingly smooth. I did play the entire game in Japanese with English subtitles. I still don't know what Jin’s English voice sounds like. GoT does a good job a drip feeding you new abilities and things to keep things fresh. I love stealth and once I unlocked it, I spent the majority of every battle taking out as many enemies as I could while in stealth mode. Ghost of Tsushima does a lot of things very well, that the few things it doesn’t can be easily overlooked.

[revive-the-fandom]

normally I start these things with like a statement on why I’m talking about the given subject, but... I don’t have a reason?  I just like this ship and want to talk through why it’s interesting to me.  So... enjoy a long post about Jarida.  

Jack & Merida are normally seen as opposites in conflict with one another.  I reckon this is because of their themes of ice & fire and their on-screen arguments, outbursts and general opinionated & defensive characters.  This is a trope that I am absolutely besotted with and I can no longer imagine them beginning their relationship (platonically or romantically) with anything other than arguing and sniping comments.  This is a personal opinion, mind you.  There are many ways that they could start out amicably.

What I find interesting is that they are opposites without being opposites.  In other words, at first glance they appear to be polar opposites:

But they are actually remarkably similar:

(I’m sure there are other points to add, and several readings of the characters that might alter these but for now these are the examples I managed to string together.)

I use both plot points and personality traits as examples because often times people bond over similar experiences and attitudes.  

In terms of RotBTD they do also have similarities with both Rapunzel and Hiccup.  Specifically, their inability to meet the standards set for them, their inability to fit in, and their desperation for their respective dreams to come true.

However, I feel that Jack and Merida would get along better, not only because of their similar experiences and atitutdes, but also because of the circumstances that carried their movies forward.  Hiccup actively changed his fate by shooting down Toothless and deviating from tradition.  Rapunzel took advantage of a bad situation (a home invader & an abusive parent) and used it to further her own interests.  Jack & Merida were thrown into roles they never wanted.  Merida as the tool for diplomacy & peace and Jack as the unwilling Immortal Spirit & Guardian.

Merida eventually changed her opinions on her mother & learned to take responsibility for her Kingdom and her actions.  Jack eventually changed his opinion on being a Guardians & learned to take responsibility for his actions and children’s belief.  Both began their movies indifferent to their ‘kingdoms’ and believed themselves to be justified in each and every action they took.  Both ended their movies with an increased sense of responsibility.

I understand the appeal of two characters who are very different to each other being an item.  Their differences and how they compromise are what make their relationship interesting.  But to me, Merida and Jack’s similarities are what draw me in.  They could understand each other and bond easily because of that.  If they were to ever hang out by themselves I can see them enjoying the same activites and coming closer because of that.  I also think that their similarities would cause arguments sometimes.  They are both very defensive characters and I think that could cause some huge problems.

There are some differences between them too ones that could cause some serious arguments between them, one that comes to mind is Merida’s tendency to outright say what’s bothering her vs. Jack’s reluctance to bring his issues into the open.  Their lifestyles too.  Jack grew up as a nobody in the middle of a wild and unexplored USA (for the colonists anyway).  Merida is a Princess of a new kingdom, living in the middle of a land that had been inhabited by her people for centuries already.  Jack was alone for years whereas Merida is unlikely to have been without human contact for less than a day.  Seeing them work to find compromises for these that make their relationship work well would be very interesting indeed.

I think I’m losing the plot a little so I’ll leave it there for now.  

Jarida is a very intruiging ship that has simply felt like it had more depth and possibility to it than others within the fandom.  This is just a quick exploration into why I like the ship and isn’t an attack on other ships so please don’t take it that way.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 23, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

On July 20, 1969, American astronauts Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin became the first humans ever to land, and then to walk, on the moon.

They were part of the Apollo program, designed to put an American man on the moon. Their spacecraft launched on July 16 and landed back on Earth in the Pacific Ocean July 24, giving them eight days in space, three of them orbiting the moon 30 times. Armstrong and Aldrin spent almost 22 hours on the moon’s surface, where they collected soil and rock samples and set up scientific equipment, while the pilot of the command module, Michael Collins, kept the module on course above them.

The American space program that created the Apollo 11 spaceflight grew out of the Cold War. The year after the Soviet Union launched an artificial satellite in 1957, Congress created the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) to demonstrate American superiority by sending a man into space. In 1961, President John F. Kennedy moved the goalposts, challenging the country to put a man on the moon and bring him safely back to earth again. He told Congress: “No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish.”

A year later, in a famous speech at Rice University in Texas, Kennedy tied space exploration to America’s traditional willingness to attempt great things. “Those who came before us made certain that this country rode the first waves of the industrial revolutions, the first waves of modern invention, and the first wave of nuclear power, and this generation does not intend to founder in the backwash of the coming age of space. We mean to be a part of it—we mean to lead it,” he said.

[T]here is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people…. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills….”

But the benefits to the country would not only be psychological, he said. “The growth of our science and education will be enriched by new knowledge of our universe and environment, by new techniques of learning and mapping and observation, by new tools and computers for industry, medicine, the home as well as the school.” The effort would create “a great number of new companies, and tens of thousands of new jobs…new demands in investment and skilled personnel,” as the government invested billions in it.

“To be sure, all this costs us all a good deal of money…. I realize that this is in some measure an act of faith and vision, for we do not now know what benefits await us.”

Seven years later, people across the country gathered around television sets to watch Armstrong step onto the moon and to hear his famous words: “That's one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.”

President Richard Nixon called the astronauts from the White House: “I just can't tell you how proud we all are of what you have done,” he said. “For every American, this has to be the proudest day of our lives…. Because of what you have done, the heavens have become a part of man's world…. For one priceless moment in the whole history of man, all the people on this Earth are truly one…in their pride in what you have done, and…in our prayers that you will return safely to Earth.”

And yet, by the time Armstrong and Aldrin were stepping onto the moon in a grand symbol of the success of the nation’s moon shot, Americans back on earth were turning against each other. Movement conservatives who hated post–World War II business regulation, taxation, and civil rights demanded smaller government and championed the idea of individualism, while those opposed to the war in Vietnam increasingly distrusted the government.

After May 4, 1970, when the shooting of college students at Kent State University in Ohio badly weakened Nixon’s support, he began to rally supporters to his side with what his vice president, Spiro Agnew, called “positive polarization.” They characterized those who opposed the administration as anti-American layabouts who simply wanted a handout from the government. The idea that Americans could come together to construct a daring new future ran aground on the idea that anti-war protesters, people of color, and women were draining hardworking taxpayers of their hard-earned money.

Ten years later, former actor and governor of California Ronald Reagan won the White House by promising to defend white taxpayers from people like the “welfare queen,” who, he said, “has 80 names, 30 addresses, 12 Social Security cards and is collecting veteran’s benefits on four non-existing deceased husbands.” Reagan promised to champion individual Americans, getting government, and the taxes it swallowed, off people’s backs.

“In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,” Reagan said in his Inaugural Address. Americans increasingly turned away from the post–World War II teamwork and solidarity that had made the Apollo program a success, and instead focused on liberating individual men to climb upward on their own terms, unhampered by regulation or taxes.

This week, on July 20, 2021, 52 years to the day after Armstrong and Aldrin stepped onto the moon, former Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos and four passengers spent 11 minutes in the air, three of them more than 62 miles above the earth, where many scientists say space starts. For those three minutes, they were weightless. And then the pilotless spaceship returned to Earth.

Traveling with Bezos were his brother, Mark; 82-year-old Wally Funk, a woman who trained to be an astronaut in the 1960s but was never permitted to go to space; and 18-year-old Oliver Daemen from the Netherlands, whose father paid something under $28 million for the seat.

Bezos’s goal, he says, is not simply to launch space tourism, but also to spread humans to other planets in order to grow beyond the resource limits on earth. The solar system can easily support a trillion humans,” Bezos has said. “We would have a thousand Einsteins and a thousand Mozarts and unlimited—for all practical purposes—resources and solar power and so on. That's the world that I want my great-grandchildren's great-grandchildren to live in.”

Ariane Cornell, astronaut-sales director of Bezos’s space company Blue Origin, live-streamed the event, telling the audience that the launch “represents a number of firsts.” It was “[t]he first time a privately funded spaceflight vehicle has launched private citizens to space from a private launch site and private range down here in Texas. It’s also a giant first step towards our vision to have millions of people living and working in space.”

In 2021, Bezos paid $973 million in taxes on $4.22 billion in income while his wealth increased by $99 billion, making his true tax rate 0.98%. After his trip into the sky, he told reporters: “I want to thank every Amazon employee and every Amazon customer because you guys paid for all of this…. Seriously, for every Amazon customer out there and every Amazon employee, thank you from the bottom of my heart very much. It’s very appreciated.”

—-

Notes:

https://www.businessinsider.com/jeff-bezos-space-flight-passenger-revealed-wally-funk-2021-7

https://www.businessinsider.com/blue-origin-auction-spacecraft-jeff-bezos-winner-seat-astronaut-2021-6

https://www.businessinsider.com/jeff-bezos-launches-to-space-blue-origin-first-human-spaceflight-2021-7

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2021/06/08/wealthy-irs-taxes/

https://www.businessinsider.com/jeff-bezos-thanks-amazon-customers-for-paying-trip-to-space-2021-7

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[From comments: “When you’ve been able to amass your money by not paying your fair share of taxes, your “privately funded” venture is a diversion of rightfully public funds. This new space race is publicly funded, but absent public controls and alignment. Socialize the expenses, privatize the profits.”

“After May 4, 1970, when the shooting of college students at Kent State University in Ohio badly weakened Nixon’s support, he began to rally supporters to his side with what his vice president, Spiro Agnew, called “positive polarization."Combined with the unsubtle racism of Nixon's Southern Strategy, thus began the decades long Republican policy of dividing Americans against each other that has led us to what we have today; two Americas that reside in different universes, and our national wealth controlled by a handful of unelected, supremely, in some cases psychotically, self-centered white men.Jeff Bezos could not have existed in Kennedy's America. We must make that so again.”

[jksangelic]

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

GENRE: fantasy, fluff, smut, a hint of a soulmate au, light angst

PAIRING: village daughter!reader x seraph!yoongi (alternatively, an “angel”)

WARNINGS/TAGS: lots of overthinking/past angst regarding both reader and yoongi separately (yoongi especially), tae is involved as an important plot side character but he’s barely in there i’m sorry, surprise aggression from yoongi because u get in his personal space, slow burn smut but the smut is nice and flavorful, explicit sexual content, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), virgin!reader, clumsy cute smut uwu, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), several positions, unintentional temperature play?, lots of love and respect up in this house and lots of other things i probably forgot. 

also i wrote a lot for the intro you can skim idc lmao.

SUMMARY: your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

WORD COUNT: 18,600

NOTE: welcome to my slice of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls Collaboration!

it’s always really an honor to be able to work with other writers and i’m really grateful that they allowed my butting-in )))): thank you all!!! make sure to check out everyone’s stories in the link above and let us know what you think!

(uhhh i just..... i spent way too much time on research and the politics behind this fic for it to still be aLL oVer tHe plaCe but please cut me some slack. might i throw in that this has no religious/cultural affiliation and instead has more of a fantastical theme to it that is entirely fictional. especially for the concept of the Offering and how i loosely throw around the word “angel” and “heaven” and etc.)

((might i add that i recently discovered that i am *terrible* at describing geography and am totally basing it off of video-game visuals........ cough cough zeldabreathofthewild))

(((this last one’s kinda important!!!!: yoongi is described to be larger than you bc he’s this magical bird being. i always try to keep reader insert broad in description but if you’re taller than irl yoongi boongi, pssst, you’re not in this universe sorry but i make the rules)))

((((this is currently unedited. @14statelier​ get to work.))))

Part One

The snow falls slow and thick. The children catching it on their tongues and compacting it to shoot at each other, screaming and wailing all the same as it continues to pile. It fell particularly early this time around, normally nothing more than cold bitter to the skin and clouds stirring prediction of the oncoming winter. You were always a heavy sleeper despite the beauty of first frost, long past your days of childish amazement through fogged windows and warm fires but you watched the icy cotton substance pile since dawn this morning. Not even drowsiness will overrun your excitement for the day ahead.

“You light three incense and make sure they burn all the way through before you turn around,” Taehee states.

“Find some stones on your way. Use them to hold the tapestry down as you set up. It looks especially windy today,” Mina adds.

Yoona finishes tucking your hair back rather tightly, “You should stop by Jin’s and pick up some extra bread. You know he’ll give you some of his fresh batch if you asked for it.”

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

You chew on your fingers, a nervous habit. Taehee pulls your slobbered index from your lips with a wrinkled forehead, “You better remember this, dear. You only have to do it once but if you do it right, it’ll be worth much more.”

You recite drearily, “Follow the path, set up the altar, say our prayers, return home.”

“Once the incense is out, Y/N. You mustn’t forget.”

“And you cannot explore the manor. Don’t walk around. Don’t look through the windows—”

“It’s a manor? How big do you suppose?” you ask with newfound interest to your words.

“That doesn’t matter, girl. You don’t wander. You don’t explore. You do what is told of you and nothing more. What matters is that you don’t spot a seraph, and that the seraphs don’t spot you.”

You never understood that rule. If the seraph tribe was so kind as to help your country win a rather one-sided war, then why the invisible boundary? To be in alliance and never interact was an odd sense of unity to you, if any. “Have you ever seen a seraph? Is it true they have two sets of wings?” You’d always been curious to the subject, a fairytale-like existence just waiting below the peak.

“The elders claim they do. A large and small set. Some say it’s necessary for having human proportions. You know, they say it’s bad luck to stare at a seraph’s wings. ” Mina says in awe in correspondence to the way she suffocates you with your robe’s sash.

You swat her away, forcing down a smile, “I don’t believe that, you haven’t even seen one! How do you even know they exist!”

“Hush! You’ll get into some real trouble if an elder catches you saying that. They exist. And they live up the mountain. And you will do the Offering with utmost delicacy and respect. Besides, you’re the only one coming-of-age this year! A girl to do it by herself is surely something the leaders will appraise of you.” You avoid their scrutinous, expectant gazes.

You could say you’ve been cursed at birth. Weak in basic skills in which an adult, regardless of age, is identified by. You lacked time management and a sense of direction, you harbored a bad habit of looking down when you spoke, you couldn’t even wash the dishes without chipping a glass. Your legs worked against you at random times, quite literally tripping you up and deeming you as a clumsy, pitiful thing. As you grew older, the only skills you were able to contribute were to the fields, where things were organic and didn’t require fragility.

“I am not as useless as you think of me,” the words come out unprompted but true and exposed.

The women gawk and babble like hens in a flurry of angered denial or soft apologies but you no longer have time to discuss unimportant matters.

In the midst, rough, giant hands encase your face. You don’t realize you’re looking to the floor until Taehyung props your chin upwards, met with smiling eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. His name rolls off your tongue in surprise.

“Hey, don’t start moping before you even start. It really isn’t a big deal. You hike all the way up to the riverbank more than the others and that’s a long way. This is no different. And think, when you come home everyone will come to realize how much they’ve missed you! Me included.”

“It’s not that I’m…” You start haphazardly. Well, it’s not that you’re reluctant to do the Offering. To adventure otherwise prohibited land and by yourself, to prove that you can handle life just fine and don’t need to be seared by the judgement of deploring eyes. Some time to enjoy solitary peace. It wasn’t even a whole day, dammit, but you’ll take what you can get. You choose to lie, “I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ll make sure to pace myself. Besides, I’d run myself short if I finished in half-a-day like you.”

Tae puffs, a little proud of himself, “What can I say… I’d like for the little ones to look up to me.” You roll your eyes, scanning your bed for your scarf. Taehyung eyes the cloth as you wrap it around, a rare moment of quiet. He stares, entranced, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so focused. As you think about inquiring his statue-like manner, you notice that more of the silence is due to the disappearance of the squawking hens. Those sly, evil matchmakers.

You suddenly pull him along and towards the exit, “You can’t be in here. You’ll get us in trouble.”

He blinks dumbly and slumps against your ministrations. “Your aunts seemed to be fine with it. And it’s not like I haven’t snuck in your window a few… several times.”

Your expressed sheepishness is his favorite source of entertainment, “Goodness, as kids! You make it sound so rebellious.” He winks as if you share a grand secret, all to his imagination of course.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was the village’s be-all and end-all. Born to work and carry everyone else on his back. He stands tall with his shoulders wide and prominent, chestnut waves that reached his cheekbones now. Shirt tight around his torso in ways that could excite anyone that risked a glimpse. You can’t help but find it amazing how much of a crybaby he was when you were young and how sturdy and dependable he is now. He was humorously your polar opposite.

You try to shoo him once more, “Anyways. I’m getting ready and you can’t see me. Go wait with everyone else!” His pout is jarring paired with his hard, strong build. Like a teddy bear with abs and palm blisters from years of physical labor.

His body moves on his own at some point, reluctantly reaching for your door handle, “No parting kiss upon my cheek, fair lady?”

It’s obvious he’s being more daring these days. With frequent visits and gifts on your doorstep, and now requested kisses. The whole town knew you were likely to marry him, a relief for most. But on your hand, you’ve just known him for so long. Practically since you were born. You’ve already shared kisses, you’ve already had those butterflies in your stomach; but the kisses were stolen in secret and the butterflies were stagnant. And although it was never a consistent nor official courting, you felt as though Taehyung was already a route taken. You know better to never admit that into the air, though. Not when everyone expected your cooperation with marriage at the least. To care for someone so special, and to bear his children plump and healthy.

What a static life to live, you try not to think. You instead try to blame such thinking on your inferiority complex, to at least ease some of that horrible guilt in your stomach. You should be grateful for your life. Talentless yet adored. A village princess that was easy on the eyes and sought after by those looking for that beauty and its accompanied dowry.

A proposal was near, that much you could tell with his efforts. In his perspective, the sooner the better lest he want someone else to steal you from him. Contradictory to your own reasoning, the only relief you find is that it is him, your dearest friend. Perhaps the only one to disregard your shortcomings and want to fill your empty spaces as much as he can. He cared about you and that could be enough. So you try to convince yourself of that.  

You kiss his cheek softly and without hesitation. Not so much as a blush. He suspects nothing less than mutual adoration and takes his leave like you request, leaving you alone in silence for a relieving twenty seconds. Then the hens come back inside and squabble about who will be able to sew together your future gown.

 Part Two

It starts under the old pine tree on the far side of the village. A crowd gathers as you wait under the swaying branches, mutters and looks of excitement apparent. A cleric waits beside you with three elder women who prepare your things: a woven satchel loaded with the items that you are to lay out, things like dried flowers, fruits, fine wines, tapestries, collected crystals, baked goods and the incense. A replica display of what little the humans had presented at the foot of the seraphs. Untouchable beings with class and power much above your own. Kindness as well, so it seems; to be provided with just this and offer unparalleled assistance to a hopeless cause in the old wars. You wondered if they still watched from afar, curious to the well-being of their mortal neighbors.

"Dear, keep your mind with us. You'll be off shortly," one of the grandmas whisper, placing a carved selenite athame into a leather holster and slipping it into the confines of your robe, "For protection." You smile and thank her kindly, tuning back into the ceremony and waiting for the second elder. They continue to adorn you in charms and traveling goodies, eventually piling on unnecessary weight that will, for sure, slow you down in the process. The trek was basically a day’s trip. If you moved efficiently, you should be home no later than when the sun begins to set, in time for supper even. As much as you’d like to stay out longer, you dare not risk a night in the mountains.

“—this year’s representative will be just as prosperous. May she bring good fortune and health onto our town just as the many before her has done so,” the old cleric roars into the audience, just about finishing his speech as you start to listen. You hope he didn’t say anything too significant. Can’t possibly hang on to every dry word when you were so close to tasting temporary freedom.

You make your way into the parted sea of people, some who grip your hand as you walk by to invoke strength as you move along. A few grumble good luck’s and come back safe’s. Then an angry baker charging through helpless bodies.

“Take this, you stupid girl. You were supposed to stop by the bakery this morning,” Seokjin whines, thrusting what seems to be a warm pastry wrapped with cheesecloth into your hands.

“Thank—Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bug…”

Jungkook pops in from nowhere, hitting your shoulder a little too playfully, “Chin up, love. Don’t be back too soon.” You nod shyly as he distances behind. Jungkook always had a strong nose for your facades but he also always kept your secrets. Clutching your things tightly, you watch your boots as they pick up speed through the mess of attention.

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

You leave northbound until you no longer hear their cheers. Until the snow no longer has indented prints and you think you’re alone and off to the races. A sudden tension snaps when you release your sore cheeks from an artificial smile, not even aware you were sporting one in the first place. There was always a heavy pressure when you presented yourself to the public, and while you were no damn princess, everyone ensured that you at least feel the looming responsibility of one. Curse your family’s political ties and all that, otherwise you wouldn’t give a damn if you seemed like an old witch spotted once in a blue moon.

When you reach the border gate is when you see Taehyung for the last time today. It comes as a surprise to see him waiting for you like a loyal dog, dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes, red cheeks a striking contrast against the bright setting. If you were more grateful, you’d think he looks particularly good today. If anything, it strikes you more that you failed to see his face at the send-off.

“Hey. I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone else… and today of all days but if I don’t right now, I don’t think I ever will,” he jumbles. In his hands hold a scarlet scarf, the same one you had seen as a child when his mom would occasionally take care of you, let you help bake, and playfully dress you in her accessories. All but that scarf, folded neatly and tucked into a corner or her closet.

“Oh! Don’t touch that, love,” she said, “That’s something my mother-in-law made for me.”

You had pouted then, a spoiled brat of sorts. But Taehyung’s mother’s eyes were always warm and she spoke softer than cashmere, “I have to give that to my son when he decides to marry. Will you make sure he finds the right one, for me? You are his best friend, aren’t you?”

You remember the challenge you felt, yelling without hesitation, “Taetae will marry me! When we grow up I’ll be his bride and you won’t have to worry!”

She giggled in contentment, eyes squinted in a wide smile and petting you lovingly, “Ah, of course. I know you’ll be a wonderful wife, Y/N. Taehyung will be in great hands.”

“I had been there, you know,” Taehyung chuckles, “When you claimed you’d be my wife when we got older. I was hiding in the hallway and initially, I thought, ‘I’ll never marry my best friend!’. But, now… I just can’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else.”

You grin at him sadly. Of course he had been holding onto this his entire childhood.

“Taehyung…”

“We’re still young, I know that. I just want to give you this for your trip to make me feel more at ease and so you can think about it. You can take all the time that you need. I know Mother wouldn’t mind, especially for you.” You nod. It’s all you can do. Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses your hair. When he pulls away, he wraps your neck into the warmth of the scarf you’d always wished to wear. But it’s almost suffocating now, locking in your fate before you even step out of the village boundaries.

“For now, just come back to me. I’ll be waiting for you no matter what you decide.”

You can fathom the communal disappointment of rejecting your strongest suitor. More importantly, you would be shameful to turn down his proposal. Once it was out there, there was no “decision”.

You can imagine your aunts now, squealing in delight and sewing from their best cloths.

 Part Three

Though you never had the chance to explore much, this really was nothing you've ever seen before. An ominous stairway carved into rock weaved in and out of your trail which made it fairly easy to follow along. You can't imagine the labor that went into sculpting this far ahead and all the way up the side of the mountain; it was truly something mind-boggling. As the air begins to thin, the amount of snow starts to grow thicker. If you had waited any longer into the winter you wouldn’t even be able to see the path, you’re sure.

You only need to stop twice to catch your breath and sit down. Snacking on the bread Jin gifted you only a few hours ago. It’s satisfying to look back at the area you’ve covered, how small things look from your height and the beauty of a fresh snow blanket. The scenery to the riverbank was nowhere as near breathtaking to that of the mountain. A dreamscape of evergreen trees and varying shrubbery, crossing over a short wooden bridge floating over a near-frozen stream, even occasional wildlife prancing into view. The summit itself wasn’t terribly high. It was manageable to hike for the most part, more so that your goal wasn’t to reach the peak. 

You could travel all the time, you think. Hike or take a horse somewhere farther than here but that’s not very practical. There was nowhere really to go and you didn’t have the luxury to just up and leave your household, and now Taehyung. The knots in your brain seem to loosen, blame the inclination and dry air infiltrating your head. Knowing your life was to be faced someday and all your immature ambitions to leave the village now seeming childlike and unattainable. The pessimism had yet to blow out your weak flame of philosophical rebellion but it was surely keeping you in check.

Judging by the sun's position, it's midday. Meaning it shouldn't be long before you catch sight of the "manor" and thus will be halfway finished with your journey.

You nearly walk off the cliffside before you notice the route's abrupt change and how it slithers deeper into the eye of the mountain. The farther you walk, the closer the earthy walls begin to shut in on you in a trench-like structure. It's even more unbelievable coming upon a short archway, perhaps man-made and mined through a boulder that could have fallen from atop one of the peaks. Being here, you realize, makes you feel small. Slithering through the terrain like a fairy in the tales your mother had told you at night. Of beasts and cryptids that could appear in the tangles of forest and vanish all in the same. There was a sort of dreamlike trance you found yourself in as you walked under the rock as if it were a portal.

And, unexpectedly, it's there. Atop a few more dreadful flights of stairs, hidden between an odd bundle of trees and beneath a fresh veil of snow, you can barely make out the silhouette of a house. It's still a bit far and eerily surrounded by fog but it's there and it almost looks as if it's... floating. Like a gateway to a secret nook of heaven.

It's one of those odd, puzzle-like mirages when you climb more steps to think you're only getting farther from the house. The swaying of branches keeps you from determining just how big it is and what it could possibly conceal. Even the atmosphere, chill and intimidating, makes your heart skip in perplexed anticipation. Having been at this for hours, if the staircase hadn't just ceased you would have kept walking straight into the dark wooden door.

But your aching legs find relief in the stretching flat surface of a porch and your exhilaration to reaching such a majestic destination that you could squeal. Of course, you don't, and instead get started at the task at hand.

You kneel onto the cool floor and begin to unload your things, neatly and without the need to rush. You lay stones on each corner of the tapestry to hold it down, you lay out the contents in somewhat of an aesthetically manner, you strike a match to light the incense and you mumble your thanks on behalf of the village, all as you were told. The snicker under your breath comes unwarranted as you finalize the display, even Taehyung couldn't have done this well.

It feels a little anticlimactic; a little short-lived. To have come up this whole way and spend a maximum of five minutes in somewhere you could spend days exploring. Idling, you can practically hear the warning clucks of your aunts engraved into your brain.

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

"Even think of doing anything funny and I'll have Seokjin roast you alive."

Maybe it's why it's even more satisfying to you when you ignore them altogether, standing from your position and just dying to see the rest of the manor's exterior. One peek, one peek and I'll never stray from instruction ever again, you think. Just my last burst of freedom and then I promise to be a good girl with no more personality than a wet dish rag.

So you tiptoe to the massive door and lean your ear against it as if you could hear anything with its size and the strong winds. You questioned if anyone even lived here, void of any decorations or signs of recent activity. Maybe the deer would get to the food you laid out before someone even stepped foot on the property prior next Offering.

When there are no obvious indications of life do you weasel your way around the corner, an extension of the porch wrapping around the side of the house to much of your assumption and revealing an expanse of space. The cabin was two stories at the least, maybe even three if not had been for the first story windows and how incredibly tall they were. You could only imagine the comfort of being inside such a space, being able to wake and watch the snow behind a glass wall of incredible proportions. While you ogle the window do you, of course, fail to realize that it's transparent and startle a bit when something begins to move.

The reflection makes it a bit difficult to pinpoint, a large dark figure shifting ever so slightly in its confines. Like a complete buffoon, you near the wall even closer with squinted eyes just making out the shapes of an entity.

Whatever it is, it's incredibly large. A heart in shape and composed of monochromatic blacks, reaching the floor and surely much taller than you. It was killing you that you couldn't figure out what the hell it was, well-near leaning against the glass as you peer into the private space.

You freeze in place as the elongated heart is really in the shape of wings, accompanied by a body as they’re dragged behind it like a veil. Long and dark and ruffling occasionally as their owner rotates a bit...

But you don't get to see his face. The man in which you firmly believed could be nothing but a myth; as propaganda by the village elders to keep your actions in check. Rather, the seraphs were more authentic than you could have ever imagined, and as magical and inspiring as it may be, so are the Offering rules that are now proved and justified, and that could only mean that this was very, very unfortunate timing to be snooping around property that was not yours.

Your feet scramble backwards in attempt to flee out of sight, instead graciously slipping against the frozen wood and causing you to land quite harshly on your side. Your hip burns at the impact but more horrifyingly important, the crash rattles the side of the floating stoop and his eyes burn into your pathetic body. The moment is wedged between fractions of a second, eye contact barely existent but it's enough to see the daggers in the seraph's irises. It's enough of a warning for you to get back onto your feet and sprint as carefully as possible away from such a gaze that could light this winter wonderland into disastrous flames.

All that comes across your mind as you rush down the steps is how wrong you were. How you unjustly became more and more skeptical of the stories and legends of the creatures that existed in the crevices of the mountains. How numb you became to the warnings as your age drew near for your rite of passage. How much of a taboo you would become if you were to ever tell a living soul that you witnessed a seraph and its marvelous wings. Not that you would.

Your ability to run brings you to the realization that you forgot your things but it was beyond you now. For once in your life, you cherish the idea of being home and hiding under the covers in the tranquil warmth of a familiar fireplace. To dream away the moment that dark angel caught a sly fox trespassing into his territory and, rightfully so, looking as if he craved to skin it alive.

You yelp at the sudden caw of ravens as they fly overhead. Their screeches send shivers to your bones, a sudden chill slowing you down. Rustling in the nearby trees deem you completely terrified, a gut feeling deducting the possibility of winds blowing that strong in the middle of dense shrubbery. Your heart drops once more; your athame was left in the abandoned bag.

The last time you had seen a wolf was when you were barely a toddler, sleepily held in the arms of a younger (and much kinder) Mina. It lurked in the woods just past the fields, a little young and possibly separated from its pack. But wolves were smart and they knew better than to make trouble in a town of loud humans. You remember the way it pulled its ears back and slinked back into the sanctity of its wild home and never to be seen again.

These wolves were smart too, howling their announcement upon finding a small, weak girl all alone and oozing dread. Two pairs of eyes track you as their corresponding bodies stalk out of the bushes, large and sleek and beautiful. Both grey and both incredibly hungry, they begin to pace around you maybe 100 feet away. You startle back and up a stair, most favored option to return to the cabin and retrieve your bag, maybe stay near for a bit until the creatures leave but then another, black and larger than the other two, barks harshly and stands its ground on your sacred steps. You are royally trapped.

“Stay… Stay back,” you warn dumbly, looking to the only open direction in the woods. You wouldn’t be as fast as on the path as long as you had to maneuver through the snow but you could possibly break off a hefty branch. Enough to ward them off to get back to the cabin and pray that the seraph doesn’t pose more of a problem than flesh-eating hounds.

So you sprint, robes clenched in your fists and boots sinking into the pillows of ice, disappearing into the trees and disregarding the snarls that start up behind you. You look desperately for something, anything to help you. Snow begins to find its way into your shoes each time you trip over yourself, wetting the soles of your feet. Hands scraping against bark with each twist and turn and your fingers burn. You only look back occasionally, seeing no more than one pair of eyes at a time at a short distance. This must have been a fun game to them, howling their contents into brisk air.

The black dog truly appears from nowhere, a flash of teeth from your left peripheral before it tackles you to the ground the same moment you find a dead branch and thrust it into its snapping jaw. It all happens too fast. You yipe as you roll through the fall, wolf teeth still digging through your only weapon and snapping the poor thing to two. In pure desperation, you dig the sharper broken half into whatever it’s willing to hit. Fortunately enough, the wolf whimpers and tumbles off you. Then you’re off once again, adrenaline ringing in your ears as you don’t even care to recall which way is which, as long as it’s away from, what can you assume was, the Big Bad Alpha.

More howls from them, more cries from you.

You’re able to return to the path without another spotting. It turns out you were going the wrong way when you’re also met with the narrow exit and that cursed archway. A gateway to inevitable death.  

Halfway through the gap in manic rush and you’re face to face with a beast so pale that it camouflaged with the flurry encasing you both. Eyes clear as water and almost… comforting. Even with the low rumble in its throat and one paw in front of the other in a slow, tantalizing chase. The others growl behind you, an enraged black-furred monster bleeding from its right eye socket turned quite smug now knowing that you were completely, utterly trapped.

It’s when the white wolf soundlessly drags a deep wound into your thigh while the three merely watch is when you ascertain that it is, undoubtedly, the pack leader. You fall back as the beautiful thing toys with you, snatching the front of your thick robe and shredding it with a sickening rip. You scream for the first time this entire chase, grabbing at Taehyung’s scarf in fear that it got caught along with it, caring for it more than your own life at this point.

The scream must have been piercing enough to discombobulate your attacker, it’s large ears flitting around as it jumps away from you. It’s even more of a shock when they all flee out of the divide, leaving you bleeding and too traumatized to move an inch. Whatever alarmed them devastates you even more.

The ravens caw loud and the ground vibrates. Watching the birds circle in the sky, you notice the way pebbles begin to crumble from each peak, how snow begins to over pile on such weak grounds and the way it begins to slide inward.

It’s an odd sound; snow sliding against other layers of snow and having so much weight that it pulls a few small trees with it. And this trench-like area only had so much space and you were positive the amount of white that begins to hurl towards you would fill it like a water cup; bury you with absolutely no chance of being able to dig your way out. Despite your fear, you cower at its charge and wait for the weight to hit.

 And then your head lolls back against something wonderfully warm and dry. You were completely soaked but too exhausted to shiver. In your last moments of consciousness, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you see the ground as the sky and the sky as the ground and feathers as feathers. You think of home. Think of warm summers where you would dip your feet in the riverbed. Think of bonfires with Jungkook and Jin and Hoseok and even Taehyung. But everything is still snow and you think you’re beginning to loathe each damned flake. The only comfort you find is the homeliness of the carmine red material that blows softly against your face. With that and the fleeting thought that you might be righteously transported to heaven do you finally pass out.

 Part Four

Yoongi wasn’t particularly fond of humans. Unlike his brothers and sisters that sympathized with such weak creatures enough to put their own lives at risk, it was just something he would never come around to understand. Species were organized and separated for reasons and intermingling was a curiosity that died ages ago for him.

Which is all a hypocritical contradiction when he sees you sleep soundly on his common room couch, changed into dry clothes and buried beneath a heap of duvets. Whatever had possessed him to go after you was pure impulse after the stunt you pulled on him. Prowling around on private property and, more importantly, breaking the village’s strict ritual rules. Catching him going about on what would be another unmomentous day in his schedule, creating enough of a ruckus to capture his attention, and then fleeing as a feeble mouse.

It’d be a lie if he had said he didn’t watch you scramble away down the steps from the comfort of his front door and a fresh coffee in hand, watching you stumble over nothing on your way. It was more when you had left your things like a pure imbecile, food and tools and all, and left without even waiting for the incense to finish burning. It was then that he came to the conclusion that you were incredibly clumsy and that served as entertainment to him.

The howls were his test of will. Knowing the dogs were way farther up the mountain than they normally were and supposing they had followed your poor, unfortunate soul during your trek, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And you were practically handed to them on a silver platter, considering you’d left your only knife on the cold wood of his porch.

Maybe he had come down, grumpily disturbed from his peaceful Saturday, more to save himself from cleaning the remnants of someone eaten in his vicinity more than the compassion to save you. But that was a tad bit too cruel, even for him. He thinks it was more of that uniquely curious glint in your eyes as you practically skipped into his sight. Daring enough to ignore those rather ridiculous warnings and try your luck. Delicate as a deer in hunter’s perspective. As often as he’d go out to restock supplies in neighboring towns would he never come across a visitor in his own domain. Call him quaint, but it was a mediocre surprise.

He prods the fire, making it crackle and reflame with more vigor. It had barely been a few hours since he’s saved you by the skin of his teeth, almost caught in the landslide himself.

He checks the wound on your leg once more, cleaning it again before securing it in bandages. If only he had gotten there faster, Yoongi tsks, but you’d strayed from the path and he could only follow the prints so quickly before they were covered by the flurry. By the time he found you again, you were knelt in front of the pack and submitting to your death. Had he not been on a hill, had he not been able to utilize his useless wings to glide down before the snow had claimed you first…

You groan softly, unable to roll around without a searing poker sinking into your thigh with each attempt. Contrast to the icicle state the rest of your body sported. You felt like hell. Like hell in hell guarded by those hounds. Hell in your thigh and hell in your head and hell in—

“Don’t move too fast. You have a fever and I just replaced your bandages,” a disembodied voice orders. Your eyes snap open to tall, wooden ceiling. Sitting up is your first horrible mistake, dropping back down immediately with a pained wheeze.

“I just said not to move too fast. If you can sit up normally, you should drink some water. I have some here,” it speaks again. You try again cautiously, blurry spots ruining your vision the farther up you scoot. A silhouette is kneeling beside you, maybe a cup in his hand but you’re too jumbled to confirm.

Yoongi tries his best to fold in on himself, lowering the obvious limbs stuck to his back and appear as human as possible. You wouldn’t be able to run again in your state but he tries his best to be courteous to your skittishness anyway.

“Where… Where am I?” You dazingly question. You don’t really… recall too much. Last memory somewhat muddled between your send-off and contact with those treacherous wolves, very few in between and serving no importance if you couldn’t remember how it ended.

“You’re safe in my house. In the mountains still. You passed out pretty good out there, been out for a bit. Now drink.”

It’s easy to do as your told with you’re running off little brainpower, downing the water hastily.

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

At some point, you can see again. The blankets that cover you and the large room you inhabit. Of course, the seraph from earlier that awaits by your seat. His seat. But you feel no urgency to scurry into safety. You were discombobulated, sure, but you knew enough that this man was kind enough to bring you into his home and care for you. So you fold back the material slowly and watch his face contort into confusion as you try to stand.

“I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for treating me.”

“Woah now. You’re in no condition to be standing. Besides, the path is blocked. Snow was too heavy and caused a slide. I doubt it’ll clear until the spring,” he informs, looking out the window as if to drag your own attention to it. The snow stopped but it’s fallen a few feet, at least. The path, you remember, chased by wolves and led into an ice trap. The few split moments in which the man must have scooped you up before your demise, remnants of being carried back towards his estate.

His place, in which is even more amazing inside than it was outside, a luxurious wooden mansion of sorts, tall and spacious and filled with those incredible windows that displayed better than you could have ever dreamed. The man himself that sits beside you draws full attention. Despite his position, he was large and still intimidating as the moment you crossed sights for the first time. Hair matching his wings in dark palette, soft and delicate looking. His face anything but, sharp eyes and thick brows, lips that curved into a simper. Above all, he looked more human. Even as radiant and prepossessing as he was, if the cape of wings didn’t follow him where he went he would look just as human as the rest of the population.

“Are you a seraph?” You ask dumbly. Dumb, because he laughs and because he obviously is.

“Are you a human, pretty thing?” He retorts. There’s no condescending lilt to his words but it makes him seem otherworldly to you. With such a provoking question and your lightheadedness, he seemed a blessing to be inhabiting such an earth.

You melt into the cushions once more, leg throbbing and eyes heavy. You watch his wings as they bob with his breath, “They say it’s bad luck to lay eyes on the wings of an angel…”

“Why would that be?,” he scrunches his nose, maybe a little appalled by the idea, “Such a misleading myth. Besides, I’m no angel.”

You don’t know why he stands to leave the room after that, unnoticing how you fall back into sedation a minute later.

 Part Five

You wake with clarity. Check your thigh to find it almost completely healed over except a now lingering scar. All’s left is a dull soreness but god it felt so much better. Enough to stand and stretch in the empty room. Enough to coherently realize that you only wear your underwear while the rest of your garments hang torn and sadly on the fireplace screen. It’s not as unbecoming if it had to be done for the sake of your health and wellbeing, right?

Getting dressed is easy when you don’t even bother with your robe, the gash decreeing it useless and instead tying Taehyung’s scarf around your shoulders as a shawl over your tank. You’re lucky it didn’t get torn.

There’s a fleeting moment where you really think you miss Tae, feeling a little regretful to being so afraid of his proposal in light of the recent accident. You’re sure he must be worried sick; must think you’ve perished under the debris and snow if he’s come to look for you. As his best friend, you solemnly wish he was here to hug you close and promise that it would all be okay. To fend off your shame and welcome you back into the village with teary eyes and a warm smile.

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

You whip around to discover fox eyes in the door frame, poorly lit now that it’s nighttime. The moonlight pairs well with how it sits on his milky skin, almost something out of a painting.

“It’s Y/N. Not ‘human’.” You answer a little sharper than you mean. He notices too, quick to wave it off since he really had popped up out of nowhere. He tries your name once on his own tongue, a satisfying thing to say.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Min Yoongi, in case you don’t want to call me seraph all the time.”

You suddenly grab your thigh, rubbing it over your pants in questionable disbelief, “How long have I been asleep? My leg is almost fully healed…”

He rubs at his eye, a little nonchalant about the scene at hand, “Only overnight and throughout the day today. It’s probably quarter to nine about now. I had medicine to help your cuts heal over nicely. Call it, uh, advanced seraph technology.”

The gashes hadn’t been incredibly deep to begin with, thankfully not going any further than the first layer of skin and just really causing some bleeding, but it was still amazing. The feeling is short lived. Even if only a day, you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“Thank you, um, Mr. Min. For saving my life and everything after that. I’d like to repay you sometime. But for now I’m afraid I should be heading back, I’ve stayed for too long. I’m sure I can find some way over the path.”

It dawns on you that Yoongi is a little facetious, especially when he purrs a, “Well you can do whatever your little heart desires, but I’m here to remind you that there is no path. Here, look out the window.”

You do, tiny bit distracted when he stands by you to point out the ridges of the mountains that surround you. “See those? How they curve in towards the top and how it sort of resembles a bowl? This area was made only for seraphs to get in and out of generations ago; flight only. Trying to climb it would be suicide on both sides. The path that goes through was strictly for human use, and if that’s blocked, there’s no way out, little one.” You weren’t the shortest in your village but Yoongi truly was massive, both lanky and filled-out somehow. Like there’s underlying strength to his lean build. You’re sure if you were to stand directly in front of him, the top of your head would barely surpass his sharp shoulders.

You disregard his name for you, a bit annoyed at this point, “Could you not fly me over the pass?”

Yoongi repeats in disbelief of such a daring request, “Fly… You over the pass… No. I’m sorry. I won’t do that. If you truly want to figure it out, you should do so soon. It's storm season."

Gritting your teeth, you express your discontent for once. What did he save you for, then? For points? You didn't know members of the almighty seraph clan were so keen to half-completed deeds. "And why not? Wouldn't you rather I be on my way? What am I supposed to do if I can't leave?"

"You forget yourself, Y/N. Did I not save your life? Chase after you and save you from being crushed? Buried alive?" He takes a second to straighten himself out, aware of how you look to your feet in frustration.

"Hey," he starts again, "I know you'd like to go home. I only tell you the truth of your situation in its entirety. If I could fly you over the pass I would but unfortunately, I'm out of commission."

You feel heat in your face, embarrassed of the way you address a complete stranger even after all the things he's done for you. But this was frankly a sticky situation to find yourself in, trapped and unable to get Yoongi to help you any further. Though you do wonder what he means by his last statement...

"I'm... I'm sorry. I don't mean to make demands. I'm just scared and in a place I'm not used to and I'm not quite sure what I'm to do from here. Is there no one else who can help me over?"

Yoongi averts his gaze before he shakes his head, "I'm the last one in this country."

That's even more odd to hear but you don't prod for information that isn't yours to learn.

In silence, you contemplate the work that even went into carrying another human body by use of wings that were structurally built for the owner's own weight and possibly nothing else. Now was not the time to be ignorant.

“What am I supposed to do?” You mumble weakly. Yoongi watches your gears turn warily, stress surely beating down on you.

He rubs his neck, ruffles his left wing, “Listen. I promise I’ll help you back come spring. You won’t be able to make a dent in the landslide as long as it continues to build with snow every night.” He tends to forget that humans are pack animals, often lost without one another and feeble in the hands of species not of their own.

Your doe eyes, beginning to well with tears, convince him over tenfold, “I’ll help you in any way possible to pay you back for all the things you’ve done. I know I’ve caused nothing but trouble but if you have the room, is it possible I stay here?”

And Yoongi had enough vacant rooms to house a whole herd of deer now that he’s been alone for these sum of years. It really was no trouble… and he could make use of you as long as you stayed. His brow shoots up, “You can stay.”

Your grin is enough to light the whole room encased in night’s darkness, looking back down to the ground now knowing you had some hope to hold onto in such an eventful day. A whisper of a thank you Mr. Min is thrown in and Yoongi can feel his fists tighten.

He clears his throat, standing a little taller than he already is and acting strict, “But there are some rules. And you can just call me by my first name.”

 Part Six

 It's always a little weird trying to adjust to new scenery. Though your past experiences have been anticlimactically different than this; not exactly the first time visiting a friend's house or dropping off delivered goods from Seokjin's shop and awkwardly facing an elder who forces you to stay for tea.

Yoongi had shown you around the areas you needed to know. Offered you the closest room to the main part of the house with a king bed, fresh sheets and your own majestic window to stare out of. The living room which you had rested in before and the kitchen, grand and spacious just like everything else. He showed you a greenhouse out back that was utterly ginormous. Stone walkways and a hot compost keeping it from freezing, rows of plants you both have and haven't witnessed before. And again, he showed you what you needed to know.

That goes onto the chores he assigned you as long as you stay, to help him clean come Sundays and manage the plants throughout the week which served as no problem. At least with horticulture you proved some use, struggling throughout the weekend to do anything else but cause Yoongi a bit of a headache.

Tuesday rolls around and Yoongi stops by your room with stationary. Tells you he has a messenger bird to deliver any letters you desire to send home and you hop on the opportunity quicker than the landslide had tried to eat you up.

Of course, it was an exceptionally long letter. Longer than the papers Yoongi had given to you and he had to fetch more when you looked absolutely devastated sitting at your desk. You began with the simple phrase, "I'm okay." Filling it with a volley of explanations and apologies, how you were nearly killed, how the seraph had scooped you up to safety and how you inhabit his home now until further notice. You write how you talk, sure the recipients are sure to read in hushed mumbles and run-on sentences. You explain that there's no use to try to get home now while the clouds continue to precipitate and gate your only exit from the bowl-like wonderland. You end with how you miss them already, a request to send back an update or two every once in awhile, and a final wish to have a happy winter without you (though you're sure they won't appreciate that joke).

You think, if they really receive the letter, how terribly furious they'll be with you. Taehyung and Jungkook will probably come hiking up the mountain to try to put a dent in the debris and fail miserably. Your aunts and how they must feel even the tiniest bit of guilt for thinking you so small and helpless. Mina and her jealous wonder that you've done it now, how you've seen a seraph before her and you're positive she'll have a flurry of questions when you return. When you return.

You come out onto the balcony to pay your respects to your so-called "messenger", pretty white thing large and wide-eyed. Humorous is the familiar to another winged being, bird of a feather, you chuckle to yourself. Yoongi pays no attention when he murmurs directions to the bird and sends it off, straight in the direction you were hoping.

Thursday and you think you finally have your routine down. No longer unsure in the hallways and able to sit when your work is done without feeling completely out of place. It's only when you're around the other member of the cabin do you feel a little subdued, reminding you that you burden him and quickly finding something to do out of that guilt.

❋

Today you feel a bit sluggish. You drag yourself down the corridor, opting for the bath until you see a dark head in an open room. Yoongi sits in his study, presumably reading with his back facing you. You can't say you've seen this room before, ceilings just as tall and walls just lined with books, journals, art pieces and things of the like.

"You can come in," he snickers suddenly, maybe feeling the heat from your eyes boring into the back of his head and warming the space entirely.

"This is amazing... Your collection, I mean." You force yourself down in a chair, hands trapped underneath your thighs in case they feel like touching anything.

"Thank you. It took quite a bit of time to build it up. Not by myself, of course."

It makes you ponder. If he's mentioned his state of loneliness twice, then your questions were expected.

"There were more, right? Family of yours? Why are you the only one left?"

"One question at a time, yeah?" He swivels around and takes off a pair of reading glasses that you would have liked to inspect on his face a bit more, "I can't leave because I can't fly, remember? They left because they held no other duty tied to this land. That's all."

You quiet. He returns to reading whatever it is on his flat desk. "Why can't you fly?"

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

"A story of a girl with a terrible habit of too many inquiries."

"You know, I loved to read when I was a kid. All kinds of things. Novels, studies, maps even. Now I never have the time for such pleasantries." A wistful sigh leaves your lips.

Yoongi eyes you beneath his lashes, watches as you survey the room with giddiness and hands taut underneath your bum. "Why's that?"

You frown, "Too many things to do. Jobs and cleaning and family and stress. If I have time to read, I have time to be doing something more important."

His lips curl, amused at this little play-thing in his room. Like a child scolded all her life, whining and pouting in front of a stranger. Yoongi stands tall and shrugs his sweater tighter around him, "Well then, you'd better hop to it."

"Hm?" You squeak, chewing on your lip when you meet his eyes. So innocent.

"You only have the winter to read these. I'd get started soon. After work is done and you want to poke around in here, feel free to do so. Take them to your room if you'd like, just please return them."

And he swears he sees damn stars in your eyes before he turns and leaves the room. He hears your immediate footing once he's halfway to his room, little yelps of excitement enough as his thanks. Yoongi can't help but smirk, eventually floating away and speaking way out of earshot for you to hear.

"Nothing is more important than the things you want."

 Part Seven

 After a month, you find it a little boring. After receiving a teary letter of how your family misses you, not one ounce of scold or chastisement more than it was just wholesome relief to see familiar handwriting, their only wish was for you to stay obedient and not write so often as to waste poor Yoongi's paper. It was typical, somewhat stress-relieving. And that was that.

It was often you spent your quiet interest reading of botany and romance (in what little you found of it) preferably in his study on days he's holed up in his room. At this point, he still remains somewhat of a mysterious entity, conversing when he must and accidentally showing his face once or twice like a ghost. The only times you really see him are for Sundays with idle chit chat.

One particular evening you find an old, ratty recipe book. Handwritten and falling at the seams and that's how you know that there are some golden tips in there for you to test out.

You choose pumpkin bread. Something to warm the palette while ice continues to build outside. And working in Yoongi's kitchen by yourself was oddly fulfilling, no one to correct you or send you off to another job if you fail to do the first. It's probably why your bread turns out perfect, slicing the loaf and placing a piece on a small plate for a friend.

Rather, someone you'd like to establish as a friend.

You haven't seen him once today; not odd but a little lonely. Pacing on the carpets and looking for an open door with any sign of a sly angelic being. Even after a month, it's the first time you've freely made something with intents of sharing with him. Was that rude of you?

Coming upon a jarred entrance, you speak softly, "Yoongi? Are you in there?"

No reply.

You clear your throat and toe the door open just enough to stand in its frame, "Yoongi? I made some pumpkin bread for us—"

Thank your soft voice does it not wake him, still a snoring log in a bed even larger than yours. His limbs sprawled widely, laying on his stomach and breath soft and slow. Sleeping in the middle of the day while his guest slaves over the stove must be quite nice, huffing subtly and placing his plate on his night desk. Sure to be spoiled even more when he wakes to a treat.

As you turn, your eyes can't help but dawdle over the expanse of his wings. One covering a naked back and one hanging off the side of the bed, a marbling effect of muddled sepias and ink blacks, occasional golden ochre pigments seeping through the deepest layers of feathers. It was utterly breathtaking. This has to be one of the first opportunities you've had to inspect them so, equating staring at his monstrously large wings the same as blatantly staring at his junk.

You draw close like a moth to a damn flame, checking to assure he's still sound asleep. Reaching delicate fingers, you dare to lay a palm on the mass. It's surprisingly strong, an odd firmness as you slide your hand down silky plains and watch as the feathers ripple by your touch.

Then, as if you weren't dumb enough to foretell the upcoming events, he wakes.

A whirl of darkness encases you, whips you around so fast that you see stars in the middle of day, completely flipped and pinned to the bed beneath you. The intense heaviness makes you recoil, unable to budge your wrists and legs with Yoongi's strength.

And his face of unadulterated fury is one that would be ingrained into your memories forever. Pupils dilated and nose scrunched like prey warding off predator. Yoongi was surprised to say the least, a scared frenzy of confusion as he growls down at you.

"What were you doing, human?"

Your weeping gains no mercy, "Ow, you're, you're hurting me!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" He spits.

Incoherence is not what he asks for but that's all you can give, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't touch them again I was just—"

His wings which were so beautiful to you before, makes you feel nothing but fear now, flapping angrily as he keeps his balance and shrouding you in shallow lack of light. When he lets up on his grip, you gasp like he also held your breath. Immediate relief streams through your blood, though he continues to trap you between his thighs. He asks you again and you sob.

"You know what happened the last time I let one of your kind close? Nearly fucking killed me for no reason. You know why I can't take you down the mountain? Why I'm stuck here by myself? Because a goddamn human stole my ability to fly. I can't fly anymore, do you understand me? That's all that I was and they took it!"

Yoongi sees the pity etching onto your face like some sort of charity case. With your pathetic excuse for tears that claim to sympathize with him and it makes the bile in his throat grow. As for you, you could have never imagined such a travesty. Those words that seem to bounce around in your skull, to be wholesomely one thing and to be rid of it by someone else's doing, you could never relate to that.

You itch to relieve his pain in some way as if he never lashed out on you to begin with. Like you were the one truly at fault here even though you know it's a two-way situation. Your hands struggle to not touch his face, to attempt to alleviate those dark, regretful feelings. "Yoongi, I'm so sorry. I would never—I would have never known--I'm from one of the villages where we look up to the—"

"Yeah, well I don’t trust people," He cracks, lungs filled with muddled sorrow.

Both of your breathing is ragged. He takes his leave off your body and sits on the edge of the bed, wings lamely drooped.

"Leave." So you do.

 Part Eight

 You find the most beautifully carved wooden bow the next morning. Sun barely risen and adventuring around in nooks you haven't looked through before. You find it, accompanied by plenty of arrows, leaning against the wall right outside the backdoor. Though it's been months since you've last hunted, you ache to make use of yourself. Wearing bundled layers of the clothes Yoongi let you borrow from what was left and bounding through the condensed areas of the woods behind the cabin.

Food isn't scarce to hunt for, you've come to realize. Rabbits abundant and easy to kill once you got the hang of it once more. Two are struck and red seeps through white. You always sink your knees into the ground after each kill, whispering your thanks before you move back to the house.

Taehyung's father had taught you the basics of hunting and fishing and everything that came after that. Skinning and cooking and preserving the flesh something everyone in the village should learn to do, he had said. Even after your mistakes, even after your hesitation for your first kill, he'd always pat you on the back and reward you with the first bite of fresh food.

You miss them all, especially now. It wouldn't be long until you saw them again with maybe a bit of heightened skills. You hope they'll be proud of you.

Yoongi wakes a little after you're finished cooking the first rabbit. He stumbles in quiet and groggy, as if having no recollection of the previous altercation. But he doesn't speak, doesn't so much as look your direction before he plops at the head of the dining room table and begins to sulk in an odd inner-turmoil state.

You wait a minute or two by garnishing the meat unnecessarily; perhaps he was waiting to say something. To apologize. To ask questions. To kick you out once and for all. Well, you'll beat him to it then.

You set his plate down in front of him, the jarring sound breaking his trance enough where he can finally meet your face.

"I hope you don't mind I used your bow. I cleaned the arrows afterward and put it back where I found it," you hesitate. "I appreciate your kindness thus far; to take me in like this. I was a complete stranger and you gave me shelter anyway, so I thank you. I've packed and cleaned and I—I think it's time I leave now. I'll find a way to get over, I don't care. And I'm, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused, Yoongi. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but I overstepped my boundary way too far yesterday and I apologize profusely."

You find that you dig your nails into your palms as you talk, head craned parallel to the floor and you wonder if Yoongi could even hear you when you were so rudely speaking to the rugs.

"Stop, you don't... You don't have to leave. There's still no way you can get over the snow." He massages the back of his neck, tense in his own skin.

"I'm so sorry," you repeat. "I let my stupid curiosity get the best of me and I can very clearly see how that made you feel alarmed and uneasy and—"

He cuts you off, "You know the myth, right? How it's bad luck to see a seraph's wings?"

Confused, you nod.

"It's not literal. It's a metaphor that it's bad luck to see our vulnerabilities. Our faults. Years and years and years ago, when the war was still active, I got mixed up with a human. Within enemy boundaries. I was naive and trusting and they made use of that. They sought out my weaknesses, ate 'em up and covered my suspicions with false adoration and love," he says the word like it's an illness, "But then. But then one night, they put something in my water. Drugged me. Something was wrong and I didn't fully go under. I suppose their original plan was to take me, probably torture me as a prisoner. But I caught on and still had a bit of composure and when they realized the drugs didn't work, they sought to kill me instead. Used a dagger and plunged it into my back as hard as they could. Right," he reaches an arm behind and massages a spot, "Right in the cross-section of where all four wings meet. I should have been paralyzed but we're tough. I can still move them but I haven't been able to fly since. Thank heavens I wasn't killed but..."

You can tell by the way that there’s no emotion in his statement, how true it rings, "That day, I might as well have been."

You wipe the pools of tears with your scarf, heartbroken for the shattered man that sat in front of you. Having to bear the sight of his wings every day and full-knowing he would never be able to use them again.

His voice croaks, "In their eyes, my own family's eyes, I commit a sin just by making such a fool of myself. The war ended and I was punished. They left me here and claimed loneliness is what I deserve."

Yoongi then realizes he sounds as if he's trying to justify yesterday's actions and literally sinks to the ground, "This isn't supposed to be a pity party. I just thought you might want to know why I am the way I am and how I had no right to snap like I did. I know you're from the north most village. And that you would never try to do what they did and I was wrongfully paranoid."

Then, out of all things unexpected, he grabs a bare ankle and lifts it out of the length of your dress. When you hobble, he grabs your gentle hand with his other to balance you. He can see the marks he left, not too dark but enough to tell and he can't help but despise himself. In pure remorse, he presses his lips softly to each bruise, not lingering for more than a second, before cowering to the ground with his head low.

"My sincerest apologies, Y/N. You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I prefer if you wouldn't. I'd like to get to know you and redeem myself, as selfish as that may seem. Maybe, until spring, I can make up for the things I've said and done—"

You sputter, voice too high and full of embarrassment as you struggle to pull him up, "Please! P-Please get up! I am at fault here! Don't kneel, please! You have nothing to make up for!"

Mouth agape and eyes wide, he watches you yell your affirmations and weakly tug on his arm. It was like watching a little kid throw a fit and that makes him chuckle aloud, how could he have ever suspected you as harmful? When your large eyes shed tears like no other and you impulsively make decisions for others before yourself. You were kind and he could see that. He laughs hard and you stop your squawking.

In disbelief you fall to your knees right beside him, looking plain stupid while you're at it. It occurs to you that you've never heard him laugh like this, smile so wide that his eyes crescent endearingly and it just lights up the room. After watching his handsome face radiate forgiving happiness, you join in too.

You eat rabbit together. The conversations from there on out easier to come up with, more emotional and found in the midst of tranquil understanding. Like you now shared a bit more of each other than before.

Occasionally, you think of all the sadness he must have accumulated until now. Of the things that happened to him that shouldn't have, and those years of isolation and abandonment that he suffered. But now you realize, too, how he's able to laugh and continue on despite those melancholy winters in a desolate place that he once called home. How it's all he can do as his only sign that he's still alive.

 Part Nine

The weeks after that seem to breeze past you; time racing when you have more things to do and someone to do it with. Yoongi really meant it when he said he would try to make up for his past harshness; never daring to miss a meal, spending more time in the livelier rooms if it meant that it was to accompany you, going as far as helping you out with your own chores if he hadn’t taken them over entirely. It was a polar opposite of who you knew before.

The first time he joined you to hunt again, in favor of how you had cooked his meat the last time, he layered himself in clothing that made his appearance softer than you’d ever imagined. Leaning towards darker garments that contrasted against his opalescent skin.

In some haughty attempt to show off your archery skills do you aim for a squirrel in a less-than-mediocre angle, letting the arrow fly without a second thought and piercing good ol’ trunk. Yoongi had a fabulous time laughing at your mishap, yanking the wasted arrow from the bark and handing it back to you.

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

The temperature of your cheeks could have melted the snow, taking the thing with shaky, embarrassed hands, “I was being hasty.”

“You got two rabbits. I know you’re good. Let me just show you some things.”

You walked behind, letting him tread through the snow first so it was easier for you to fall into his prints.

“There. Squirrel,” he whispered. Probably the same one, mindlessly crawling up and down trees like target practice.

“Let me see your form again.” You aimed, self-conscious and probably showed it. You shivered when he swiped a hand under your grip arm, pushing it back.

“Keep it aligned with how the arrow is facing. Completely centered. You can widen your feet a little too,” his voice soft. “Don’t completely lock your elbow but tighten your back muscles before you hold. Does that make sense?”

“Mm. It won’t stop moving though, the squirrel.”

“Watch this.”

Then Yoongi had dug through the snow for a small stone with enough weight to throw. Aiming for a far tree to the right, he tossed just hard enough to cause a knock to echo in its vicinity. The squirrel halts, presumably looking for what caused the noise in its unknowing last thoughts.

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

He watched you silently each time you had knelt next to the victim and mutter your thanks, both sorrowful and appreciative. It was the first time he ever witnessed someone, frankly, talking to dead animals and at some point he asked you why you did so. You responded with a giggle, briefly claiming how all living creatures deserve the same respect, to be mourned, to not be wasted. Yoongi finds interest in the concept of valuing each as their own and of the same importance in the Grand Circle of Life, probably something his family would never have stopped to think about. The seraphs had always placed themselves above others in a deserving, self-righteous kind of way. It made him think.

❋

A particularly windy night and you caught him in the seat of his study's window, drawn to the mirage of colliding trees and listening to the croaks of the house on its plot. A muddled bottle sat on his desk, its glass counterpart being twirled in his hand.

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

"I didn't used to," he answered, unfazed by your sudden entrance, "Caused problems a lot of times. But I think they're pretty fun nowadays. And you?"

"I like when there's thunder and lightning."

Yoongi faced you at that, your twiddling fingers and the way you scanned the dim room.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Although it was a question he poured you one anyway, barely anything more than a few sips worth. Obliging, you took the liquid. Pride a little stung in all honesty, pretty aware of your high tolerance.

He tittered, "Don't pout. You can pour as much as you'd like. But this stuff is ancient, concocted from poison and the desire of Death itself. Watch yourself."

It was always a trait of yours to take on a challenge, though, ignoring his warning and foolishly gulping it down. The burn was subtle despite its awful, awful taste, yet you poured another and let Yoongi watch you spiral down the rabbit hole.

Two stories and one half-glass later and you draped yourself very unladylike on his desk, too warm and too moist and too loud.

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

"Min... Min. Mr. Yoongi."

"That's wrong but that's me."

"Yoongi you have to keep a secret. That I'm going to tell you! From Yoo—from Yoongi!"

"Wait, that you're trying to keep a secret from me or—"

You must had forgotten, instead focused on bunching your skirt and tying it higher up your thighs, "Soooo hot. Too warm. I'm going to leave it like this, ‘kay?"

"You don't have to pass it by me. They're your clothes," he said, biting back laughter. His accidental peak of pretty, bare legs could have made him think different though. Reverting his gaze back out the window, he wouldn't have been surprised to see lightning that night.

Taking his eyes off you wasn't his best idea. Hobbled out of his chair and sneaking to his place with hands buried in feathers before he could shy away. Yet the wonder stained your eyes with childlike amusement and he wouldn't dare change that face. So he idled in a flustered mess, relaxed in the way you unknowingly massaged his muscles.

"Pretty wings, Mr. Yoongi... Can I touch them?" You asked stupidly. Yoongi grumbled.

When you finished evaluating, you swiveled awkwardly and tripped over his knee, a yelp escaping your lips as if he wouldn't catch you in one swift motion and onto the safety of his lap. Yoongi could smell the bite of alcohol that stained your breath; could see how swollen and red and beautiful it had made your gentle face. The proximity was deadly and your innocent, apologetic features could have slain him right then and there. You didn't even make another peep, eyes drooped in what he assumed was embarrassment for your clumsiness.

In which he thought wrong, your hands slapping each side of his face and squishing it together horrifically. "Pretty face, Mr. Yoongi."

"Alright, time for bed."

You fought all the way until he tucked you in, out with soft breaths and sprawled arms. Even after he had laid you down to rest and calmed back in his lair, there was no slowing the fondness that grew in his ribs.

❋

You don’t know when you’ve started looking forward to Sundays, springing out of bed in the morning with a green thumb and a will to dig, or so you imagine. You knew Yoongi would be waiting for you in the greenhouse and spent a little extra time rinsing your face, doing your hair, and double-checking nothing was in your teeth.

Yoongi was already checking the pots when you had gotten there, wrapped in black per usual and winking as you walked by. The familiarity by now was tangible. There was always a nice flow to your conversations and Yoongi doesn’t back away when you naturally find yourself in his space like he used to. It was both a prideful accomplishment and an endearing new relationship that sparked joy every time you were able to do something together. To step back and see the difference over your time spent here, the things you’ve done, and the way Yoongi warms up slowly.

He watches you mindlessly hum as you harvest what you can, voice soothing when most times it would have been dead quiet. That’s what it felt like being around you: like a void suddenly filled, his whole being gravitating to your aura. You were addicting, if he had to admit.

The scarf, somehow pristine despite how often you wear it, is shuffled up your neck as you do one thing or another. Like a constant reminder that it’s there, you always feel the need to touch it.

Yoongi points to it, “Did you make that yourself?”

“Hm?” You follow his line of sight and crumple the red thing in your hands, “Ah! No. It… It was a gift.”

“Ooh, from a suitor?” He doesn’t mean any harm when he jests but it prompts the things you’ve left at home. No matter how much you’ve tried to suppress it down and not nitpick on the responsibilities you’ll have to return to. Awful as it seems, it makes you take notice to the sun and how it begins to peak out more with every day. You push the thought down once more.

Instead you laugh nervously. Yoongi knows immediately when you say nothing but, “Mmm…”

His gut twists from a melting of surprise and disappointment. How could he be so dim? To not even hypothesize the mere possibility of someone else being in your life. Though the feeling weighs heavy on his head, he speaks lightly and with a smirk.

“You must miss him then.”

“Yes. Of course. We’ve known each other since birth and have been best friends for as long as I can remember!” You chuckle, “He gave this to me right before I left and claimed we could get married once I returned. I was so shocked that I made myself sick thinking about going back. Just nervous, I suppose.” Taehyung, as expected, never said anything in the occasional letter updates to you. He meant it when he said he would only wait to talk about it for when you came home but you ponder how he feels now; what he’s been doing. If he’s changed his mind once he’s realized how incapable you are that you couldn’t even do the Offering correctly, but you know that isn’t true. Maybe just wishful thinking.

You throw dead leaves in the compost and Yoongi eyes you.

“’Shocked’? It’s not something you’ve been looking forward to?”

You look down, “It’s not that I—I don’t know! I just have seen him as family for so long and then there’s this sudden proposal without even talking about it beforehand… And everyone expects it. For me to just be married and have a family and all of that but I just, I just don’t see that for me so soon.” Your words begin to jumble and Yoongi hasn’t seen you so stressed within the span of twenty seconds before.

“Forgive me and my input but isn’t the most important thing what you want? You could just turn down his proposal,” He suggests like it’s the easy answer, hoping you don’t suspect a hopeful tone in there.

“Does it really matter what I want?” You stop to think about the people who matter to you and what would ease their minds most when it comes to your future. Marrying Taehyung seemed like the only option. “I can’t turn him down simply because I don’t want to. That’s selfish.”

“That doesn’t make very much sense to me.”

“Well,” you sigh, “in the village it’s courtesy to accept a marriage proposal regardless of how you feel. It’s the receiver’s obligation to be grateful towards—”

“Is that how humans treat their women?” Yoongi spits, agitated just by the thought. He leans against a table next to you, arms crossed like he’s simply not having it, “To ignore your own say and force you to think you should just be appreciative? That’s some bullshit.”

“It’s not as serious as I’m making it seem it’s just…” You think of your aunts and the elders and Taehyung’s mom. How you’ve grown into a nuisance, lacking here or there. The time where you were supposed to return to the village after a successful Offering and marry and finally be someone to be proud of. “In my case, especially, it’s probably better off I’m just someone’s wife. I’ve never been much to begin with.”

And that’s truly heartbreaking for Yoongi to hear, so much that he becomes enraged with whatever twisted society you grew up in, “Y/N. What have you been doing these last few months?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, what have you been doing? Just sitting around? Watching me sweep circles around you? Serve your meals on a silver platter and draw your baths? No, because you’ve been doing that yourself. For yourself. By yourself.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to huff before he continues. “Sure, you were a little rough around the edges with some things but who isn’t? You hunt, you cook, you read like no other, you do a lot of great things and it’s not because you’re trying to do it right. You do it right when you like what you’re doing.”

“Yoongi, I understand. Thank you but you don’t have to—”

He walks toward you, lecturing on. “I know it’s by unwanted circumstances. But has your time here been horrible? Have you despised being here and doing these things?”

Your answer is immediate, “No. Not at all.”

“Has it not been nice to have your own space and do things simply because you want to? Because you were thinking of yourself?”

“I-It has been… I don’t know where you’re getting at.”

Your legs hit the corner of another table and you notice he’s backed you up into it.

“So, you go back and you do what you want like you have here. Don’t worry about what they think. Wait until you’re ready. Marry for absolute, unwavering love. Be a little selfish,” Yoongi hooks your chin with his index and props it up. You didn’t even realize you were looking to the ground. “Look up.”

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

So Taehyung is his name, Yoongi thinks. He frankly does not care.

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

“Perhaps I was mistaken. Do you want to marry Taehyung because you truly love him?”

You see his lips before you hear his words, parted and nearing you bit by bit. So close that you feel his warmth, aching to close the distance. “I…”

A shovel clatters onto the stone and Yoongi removes his arm that’s found its way around your back, shuffles backwards and lets your hand fall from his face. It was natural to touch him, you realize, unaware that you feel distant and cold when he’s away.

Yoongi picks the damn thing up and curses. It wasn’t like him to be so forward, close to doing the unimaginable to you. You, who was involved with someone else. Heading towards the door, he ruffles his wings like he’s restarting.

“Forget I said that,” he requests, “I’m going to wash up.”

You nod, frozen in your spot with legs too unstable to dare walk. Without even knowing you had reached for him, so close to doing something you’ve only been secretly daydreaming about of recent and how incredibly wrong it was for you to think this way. But in another sense, you would feel worse lying to yourself by saying you weren’t attracted to the seraph. It was a twisted contradiction of emotions and you could scream.

Needless to say, you don’t see Yoongi until the next day, and even then nothing is mentioned of the almost.

Part Ten

On Tuesday, the bird returns with a letter from your family and Taehyung. It’s brief, with evident relief that the snow is melting and how happy they’ll be to see your face. Your heart sinks at how much you miss them yet how angry you are to receive the letter. To what extent would they be happy to have you home? Until you dare humiliate Taehyung when you turn him down? To dishonor your name and his parents and gain the glances of people who care more about your failures?

You calm and shoo such immature feelings away. Yoongi is confused when you don’t send a letter back and you return to your room early that night.

❋

You haven’t had a full night’s rest that entire week. You’re sure Yoongi notices the tension and that makes you feel horrible, but the lingering necessity to run to him and never go back to the village is too prominent to just face head on.

He’s been checking the trail every day, making dents on the softer parts of the snow when he can and updating you when he returns. You know he doesn’t want you to leave and you know he thinks you feel the same. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything about the proposal that day.

Flipped onto your back, you stare at the ray of moonlight that floats atop your bed. You would miss it here, so much that it hurts your throat. You would miss the windows, the kitchen, the greenhouse, the library that Yoongi was happy to share. It goes without saying that you would miss him the most.

Unprompted imaging of a possible future with him interrupt your thoughts, something so uncertain and fortuitous in comparison to the stone-set fate you have now. What the stoic seraph would think if you just asked him to stay a little longer, until you know you would never leave. The landslide and how much you had hated that unfortunate event seems so insignificant now, replaced with a dimmed appreciation for this life detour, no matter how short lived it will end up.

You’re probably on the verge of sleeping now, thinking of the incident and it’s wild connection to your present out of pure lunacy. You could bet your entire existence on the fact that you were meant to meet him; your entrapment by the snow no mere coincidence. Neither was Yoongi’s endless solitude atop this mountain. It had to be fate that you two were to meet at this moment and your heart feels it so strongly.

Even for you this could be too far-fetched, or maybe you were just trying to cover up the way your heart is undoubtingly falling for Min Yoongi.

 Final Part

 You prod the logs, provoking them to catch more of the fire. In your last night do you decide to pour a glass of wine, kneel on a pile of blankets and snack on the charcuterie board you made for yourself. In the past, you used to be so hesitant about helping yourself to the manor’s amenities, having no problem doing it now.

The lame, weak fire is your only source of light in the large living room, clouds blocking the moon from shining through. You feel, immaturely, just as cloudy. Set in your intentions to leave your feelings locked away as to not cause more trouble, confusion, and inevitable heartbreak.

“You look quite comfortable,” Yoongi surprises you and he can tell when you jolt. Speaking of the devil. He looks great in the dark too, leaning against a wooden pillar with folded arms.

“Well, it feels like I’ve lived here for quite a bit. Just,” you break to sigh with exaggeration, “soaking it in before I leave. Too beautiful to not.”

If not for the crackling between the wood, it’d be dead quiet.

“Would you like to join me?”

He titters, rolling his eyes before he walks your way. Laying on his side, you offer him your glass. “I hope you don’t mind that I used the wine from the ritual contents. With the stuff you normally drink, this must be nothing.”

“Like water to me but I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

You cheers to nothing with one glass to share. Occasionally picking off meat and fruit from the board and enjoying how the fire builds up.

“Your family will be so happy to see you.”

You hum. You suppose they would. Avoiding the bitterness you still associate with the thought.

“And I’m sure Taehyung will be too.” He says a little clipped. Not in a way to be facetious or sarcastic but because he feels the need to address it.

Yoongi is caught on the carmine scarf again, downing the rest of your poor wine.

Forcing a smile, you speak faintly, “Let’s not talk about that.”

At this point you both know. He nods to keep you happy, but there is no hiding or pretending. In front of the flames, your lies and justifications seem to melt away unspoken. Changing the subject, you shove him lightly, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. I don’t think you’ll ever learn to bake as well as I do.”

He tuts, which is refreshing. “I’m great at cooking and baking, I’ll have you know. It was just nice having someone else do it for once.” You feign betrayal and scoff aloud. He mumbles low, “But I’ll miss you for more reasons than that.”

And he breaks an unmade promise not to bring it up again. Feeling the need to throw it out in the open and even with the simplicity of admitting that he’ll miss you, you really know what he means. The seraph feels for you. He feels deeply. Yoongi doesn’t expect a response, just pops more food in his mouth and rests his eyes.

You contemplate, following suit with a bite to a grape and thinking hard. What to do. What to say. How to say it if you did. You weren’t supposed to feel this way and it goes way beyond the rule of even coming in contact with a seraph, let alone unconsciously falling in love with one. 

But that’s just it: how you live by assumptions and rules based off the words of the ignorant villagers and the elders, how they all believe the seraphs are all still here, how they think there’s a direct relation to the Offering and a year’s good harvest, how it’s bad luck to see a seraph’s wings when it’s brought you anything but. If you learned anything from this winter, it was that you found you own way of living, thank the curiosity your home curses you for. Making your own path instead of aimlessly walking one that was already paved. You learned to trust yourself a little more while Yoongi propelled you forward and believed you deserved it all. You learned you did deserve more. You learned what love really felt like when it was new and fresh and exciting and real. And Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi was the wine to your previously empty glass, and this winter with this man, it was heaven.

You decide the realization is enough for you. Have been gifted with so many things and blessings that you’re grateful for the chance to have met someone like him.

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi tastes bitter in his mouth. He felt that if all these years left alone in a manor of silence and rejection was to eventually meet you he would do it a million times, but if all you could reciprocate was this then it just wasn’t meant to be for him. It felt unfair but it also wasn’t his decision. He takes the sourness with him and stands. “I suppose I should head to bed.”

Your sad stare breaks his heart, even more so when you give up and nod. The fire catches your attention as it pops and you leave it at that. He tries to walk away, footsteps haunting, until he stops altogether.

It comes unexpectedly when he wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his knees into your back. A weird sight it is to see his wings unfurl and curl around your rigid body. “Are you satisfied? Is this enough for you?” His voice is soft, like he could take either answer as long as he heard it from you directly.

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

“You’ve already done too much for me, how could I possibly ask you for more?”

He hisses liar into your ear. “Is it your family?”

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

Here you are again, faced with a question that tore you apart in the garden while you ached to be with Yoongi anyway. But there were no distractions here; nothing to interrupt your thoughts. Just you, Yoongi and your truth. He loosens his grip so you can face each other, knees between knees. Instinctively, you reach out for his feathers and indulge yourself with their softness. He pushes his wing into your hand as if to bribe you like a child.

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

A quick glint in his eye, a sort of relief, and then he finishes what he’s started and kisses you. It’s wrong how right it feels, lonely lips moving in tandem to find comfort in one another. Yoongi leans into it, absolutely devastated by your simple touch. The strength of the wine remains on your lips and he can’t help but lick into the flavor, drunkenly entranced by such luxuries. Yoongi’s hands can’t stay, snaking up your back, caressing your face, dragging his knuckles across your jaw and finally grabbing at the scarf. Carefully, he unwraps it from your neck, slow enough to feel it tickle your shoulder blades, before he folds it respectfully and places it elsewhere.

You sigh, more weight taken off your shoulders than there should be.

“Is this okay?” His voice raspy, speaking into the corner of your mouth. You’re stiff, nodding shyly and lacking the fire you brought up until this point.

He rewords, “Do you want me?” Yoongi feels the need to confirm, waiting for this moment for so long that it seems superficial. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll disappear into another one of his many short-lived dreams.

“Of course I want you, Yoongi. I want you more than anything…” But your eyes flicker to the ground, your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Then what’s wrong, lovely? You don’t have to.”

“No! I want to, I just… I’ve never done this before. I want you so bad but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing—”

His laughs are light, his hand on the small of your back as he dips you onto the floor. Holding himself above, he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. I want you and we’ll go slow and if you decide you don’t want to anymore, we won’t.”

The way he makes you feel, how gentle he is, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect way for this to happen. It eases you slightly, letting your arms snake around him in an attempt to let your guard down. He’s patient and wonderful and you mumble about it. “Mhm, okay.”

The night robe he’s gifted you now poses a problem, his slender fingers looping through the bow that keeps it wrapped, “Can I?” You nod again, and he unties you like his own present. The feeling of being bare in front of him becomes apparent when he sucks in and the heat from the fire dances against your skin. Other than that, you look to the window to avoid his face.

“My love, look at me.”

His commands are easy to follow but you cover your breasts to hang onto your last bit of pride, granting eye contact at the least.

Face flushed, you can tell he, too, is trying his best. “You’re incredible. More prepossessing than I could have ever imagined. You shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of me.”

“Well,” you retaliate, “it’s hard not to be when I’m the only one naked.”

He grins at the challenge, sitting up to shed his layers, never noticing his garments having to wrap around in a way to accommodate to his wings. You just thought it was just a more ornamental way of dressing that the seraphs took to. He’s left down to tight underwear that hugs him incredibly, beautiful milky skin exposed and tinted with golden light. “Satisfied?” He lilts.

“You look like an angel,” you trace indents of faint abs. Wide shoulders that taper into a tiny waist, a slim build that you could study forever.

He kisses your words away, pushing you into plush comforters and pillows. A makeshift nest unintentionally built for the two of you. A groan rewards him when he licks your bottom lip teasingly, taking your wrists swiftly to pin them above you. “Pretty thing, I don’t have a halo.”

He starts from the top, kissing each inside of wrist before moving down your arm, slithering onto your shoulder, then into the crook of your neck with gentle suckles. Teeth grazes before puncturing, eliciting a yelp from you that satisfies him. He does this over and over, decorating the canvas of your neck.

“I want to burn you into my memory. I don’t ever want to forget this,” he moans with a wake left down until he meets cleavage. His muscles were relentless, impatient and eager, wanting to worship ever square inch of your body as you rightfully deserved. Your squeaks serve his purpose, his muse as he continues his ministrations down.

Out of nowhere, “I don’t want you to leave me, Y/N.” The profession makes you giddy, happy you’re not the only one who feels so. A hidden insecurity acknowledged and lifted.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

He reaches your stomach and doesn’t hesitate to nibble there too, flinching when your hand flies to his head and buries itself in his hair. He ditches his current plan to grab your hand and plant a kiss to your palm in a second, making you giggle.

He admits, “I like when you touch me.”

“I want to. I feel so useless letting you do this alone.”

“You’ll get a chance if you’d like later. But right now, it’s all about you.” Husking it out. Of course, the idea sounds blissful, but the scene of having you cum by his actions sound better. “Need to cherish what’s in front of me properly.”

So he dips dangerously, laving at the skin above the hem of your panties and hooking his fingers under the sides, “Please,” he breathes.

“You… can do whatever you’d like to me. I want it all.”

He tugs his lip between his teeth, pulling it down. An unexpected wetness strings between your skin and the cloth and you both see it; him amazed, you horribly mortified. You stutter trying to explain yourself, oblivious that you could even feel as aroused as you do now. But his forehead falls onto the jut of your hipbone and you can hear subtle teasing in his tone. “I-I’m just as nervous and that was so incredibly sexy. I don’t think I can go on, shit.”

You laugh stupidly. “Quiet! Not another word! Just hurry up and—”

That terrible habit of looking away becomes your biggest fault, unprepared for Yoongi to filthily bury his tongue into your heat. He flattens his tongue and tantalizingly drags up until he can just barely flick your clit with the tip. Growling in the process.

“You are so sweet. The sweetest I could ever have. You will be the end of me.” Rushed in panted breaths as he does it again. And again. And again. So much that the growing sound of wet against wet echoes in the empty room and renders you paralyzed.

The feeling of it makes you squeamish, like you want to move, buck your hips, pull his hair. Despite the lewdness of having his rough tongue against you and lapping you clean, you could never ask him to stop.

“You just… keep getting… wetter…” He says between turns. “You really wanted me this much?”

“Yoongi—ah! Please, I can’t. It feels weird.”

“You don’t want me to continue, my love?” He asks lightly, blowing cold air onto damp skin and really forcing you to buck.

“No! I just… I have never felt like this. I want you to but I can’t sit still.”

“Oh? Let me help you then. But you have to let me finish.” So you shyly nod and loosen your legs. He uses the prompt to scoop them underneath his arms and attach the back of your knees atop his shoulders, your hips curving up and towards him in a new, tight position.

“Yoongi!”

“No matter how you feel, just let it happen.”

Sultry wails are music to his ears when he brutally sucks on your clit, licking your folds here and there and using all his strength to keep you in place. He spells out his love with his tongue, digs it into you sweetly. His power, though, anything but kind.

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

Unveiling your view, his stare immediately burns into your veins. Looking at you under dangerously slanted lids and that sinful mouth. Holding you in place with strength that could leave prints into your soft legs. With one roll of your clit under his teeth, you feel in ways you never knew how, as if all the pressure that built up in your abdomen suddenly overflowed with a tight burst. Choked sobs and hand gripping his hair enough to make him moan into you, vibrating wonderfully as he works you through it. 

He lets you go, remnants of syrupy arousal trickling down his chin; watches your legs fall open widely and your chest heave for air. Your features bring him joy, loving the way your hair sticks to your face with sweat, eyes closed, and brows knit together in concentration. He loved seeing you painted in warm hues and although he was never an artist, he could replicate this scene exactly how it’s displayed in front of him.

“How do you feel, lovely?”

You respond with a weak smile. “You’re so cruel… Min Yoongi.” You felt flimsy; weightless. A feeling you could come to love too much if you aren’t careful.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” slithering back up to rest his head in your neck, giving you more kisses like you haven’t had enough. You’re happy he’s back, massaging your hands over his torso, up his neck, down his spine. And then you hit it and he tenses.

Thick and raised, an area between his wings that softly juts out. It was fairly large and the texture varied from the rest of his beautiful planes of skin. It was a scar. Wide as a dagger.

“I wish it wasn’t there. I know it’s—”

“Yoongi, baby.” You nudge him to lift his head and he does unwillingly, face turned away. “My Yoongi, it’s nothing. What happened was horrible but it’s over. And I will do everything in my power to make it up to you by giving all of me.”

His lips stop you tenderly, a whisper of affection that pours out love, “You didn’t do anything. In fact, you’ve made me better. I wasn’t able to feel anything for a long time until you. So. Thank you.”

Any remaining embarrassment vanishes. Not when Yoongi’s done his part and you would do anything to take care of him.

Sweat molds your bodies together, heat emanating from a fire that’s ablaze now. There’s a private summer in this room while winter continues outside and it feels special to you. It’s hot here, hot when Yoongi scrapes his teeth against yours, hot where his pelvis lays. You take notice to the hard thing twitching against your thigh, making you flinch.

“Ah, I’m sorry. And we’re in A Mood and all.” Yoongi snickers.

“Don’t be,” you purr, feeling a bit lustful and reaching down to grab it through the cloth.

He hisses, “Fuck! Fuck, please, I’m so sensitive at the moment.”

Ignoring him, you unskillfully maneuver your fingers around him. Just touching to be familiarized with it. He surges forward accidentally, sighing in your ear as he shamelessly humps the space between your groin. You use his distracted state to pull his shorts down, the sudden reality of his skin touching yours bringing about sensual noises from the both of you. A sudden spurt of precum makes it easier for him to drag his heavy cock against your hip.

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

“Stop apologizing. I’ll help you.” You stare down as you flick your wrist, encircling him with fingers shaped in an o and pumping him slow.

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

“Is it… supposed to be this large?” It’s a stupid question to ask, especially when you’re not entirely clueless. You know his size exceeds average proportions.

“Don’t spoil me. Seraphs have always been larger than humans. Height wise, I was the smallest of my brothers though.” Which seemed unimaginable to you, not when he towers over you and could easily devour you in a hug. Cock hanging low and barely able to keep in your single hand. He must be acting coy.

“Now you’re just bragging!”

“I’m just being honest. I’m automatically pleasing to the likes of you,” he chuckles.

The dampness overflows, smears over your skin in incredible amounts and how you wish you could taste out of pure curiosity, but he has other plans for you.

“I don’t think I can hold myself any longer. Please.”

“That’s… fine. Um, should we? Like this?”

“It’s so hot, could you flip on your side?” You roll and he figures he’s made a mistake. Entranced by the way your weight, breasts and soft curves, naturally gravitate down in a seductive pose.

“Like this?” You ask, unaware that he could simply die right now.

He lifts your leg to rest on his shoulder again, easy to stretch. “Perfect, my love. I’m going to go slow. If it’s too much we can try again another time, okay? No rush.”

Challenged by his kindness, you shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m ready.”

Whatever’s left of the arousal between you both is more than enough to let him enter easily. Head of his member no problem to push past that initial tension.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

But it’s his shaft that makes you keen, entire length seeming endless as he fills you and overloads your maximum space. You cry, nerves making you writhe, “It’s not going to fit all the way—hah…wait.”

Yoongi struggles to hold himself back, perspiration dripping down his nose, “Are you okay? Does it hurt? It doesn’t need to, I’m pretty close to being all the way in anyway.”

“I’m fine,” you pant, head lolled to the side as he stretches you out in an odd, numbing way. “You can… you can move.”

His hips test it, pulling out so little to only be sucked back in with a leveled grunt. “Baby, you’re barely allowing me to.”

“It feels so tight,” you sigh, worried that if you move it’ll really begin to hurt.

“Ah, really? Let’s do this then.” He quick to please, wanting your pleasure before his own and getting you to flip, propped onto your elbows and filled from behind. Smooth chest meets your arched back, him hiding a kiss below your ear while he’s there. A moan aches in your throat as his dick unintentionally digs deeper inside, easier to move and to the hilt.

“Is this better, Y/N?”

“Hah… Yes. Yes, so much better. So good. Please move.”

His hips roll, just enough to grind into you which feels nothing but euphoric in itself. You mimic each other’s lusty whimpers with every movement. Caving into each other’s kisses and licks and pants that you feel synchronized.

Yoongi grows impatient with himself, exaggerating how he pulls out and slams himself back inside. The mere force that he fucks into you sends you forward, opting to lay on your chest and bite the blankets beneath you to keep from screaming. “You feel so good. So, so good. I’m sorry it hasn’t been long, but I feel like…”

His wings fall at his sides and cover you in shadow. It’s weird to see them like this, in a way you could imagine the perspective of having them yourself. But it covers you in unnecessary warmth and makes you grunt.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a quick breath, “Let me on top. I’ll finish.”

The way his member slides out; the way it leaves you tensing over nothing is a sad, needy feeling. You don’t slow at the chance to lay him down and take control, straddling him and watching his face contort in loving awe.

Sitting on him is an entirely different feeling and Yoongi keeps himself from cumming inside you right away, a choke in his throat. “Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk. Y/N, I won’t last like this for long please—”

“I’ll make it quick.” You lean over him, palms to the ground as you start moving, grinding and using him to your advantage. The nerves start again and you shake with pleasure.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

Slender fingers dig into your velvety hips as he forces himself into you with harsh, quick jabs. “Baby, I have to cum.” He smooths his knuckles over your cheek, pulling you down into a tongue heavy-kiss in an impossibly fiery caress.

The ramming he enforces take incoherent sobs from your lips. You feel a ghost of a smile, sure Yoongi is enjoying your shameless display of indulgence; coming undone before his very eyes.

You arch into him, clenching tighter and falling onto his chest. With impeccable timing he pulls out, strings of hot white flooding between your stomachs.

“A lot,” you complain.

“Mmm. Because I’ve been waiting so long to have you.”

Without the pressure of moving, you lay on him despite the humidity. Petting the underside of his wings as they drape so gracefully against the blankets and the rug.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

“To see my family. To come home and let them know I’m okay.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s afraid that you won’t come back, though.

“And… to turn down Taehyung’s proposal in person.”

Yoongi looks down and can’t see your face but he’s imagined it’s worried. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

He waits. You speak again, “Do you really want to be with me? For me to stay?”

“More than anything.”

He feels the tug of your cheeks on his chest; a wide smile.

“Then I’ll need to get my stuff.” And that makes him want to cry. After traumatic betrayal and years of loathing his punishment of isolation, he’s finally being let out of his cage. Free to be with someone that cares for him as much as he cares for you.

Your last thoughts remain on the fire and how it’s the only other entity to to swallow your talks, plans and confessions. Of his feathers like his arms as they fold in comfortably next to you, feeling like they’re meant to be there. Like you really were fated to be skin-to-skin with this man in his manor. Entwined by trust and love and an unprecedented future that would be everything as long as he’s in it. An irony of a useless girl and flightless wings.

Yoongi watches you fall under, wiping his thumb over your lips, trailing it down your chin and covering your naked body with his wing. Slumber finds him soon after, mind stuck on his self-epiphany that he had to lose his wings to gain you, and how incredibly lucky he is to have it that way.

a/n: ahAhaA, i’m sorry. please feel free to let me know what you think.

❋ masterlist ❋

[worm-man-gaming]

My top 10 list for who I WANT as DLC in Smash

We’re reaching the end of an era. Smash Ultimate’s DLC is going to end eventually, with four more characters to be announced. They could release some kind of ‘Echo Pack’ in the future, which I would be hyped about (They didn’t really do much with the echo fighter mechanic), But I have a feeling that after this, there won’t be any more. So I wanted to post my list of who I, specifically, would like to see in the game.

This is not based off of likelihood, as some of these characters probably don’t even have a chance of making it in. I just think they would be neat.

Full list under the cut, counting up from #10

- Papyrus (UNDERTALE)

Okay, so hear me out.

We got the Sans mii skin, and that was by far one of the most popular mii skins since Geno, probably. People were more excited for the Sans mii skin than Terry Bogard and maybe even Banjo. They probably made a lot more money than expected from it. So why not try it again? 

And while Sans is the popular character, he definitely is not a fighter. He’s a lazy, laid back character that just wants to have fun, but he’s far too weak to go into an all-out battle without risking his own safety. 

HOWEVER!

Sans’s brother, Papyrus, is the polar opposite. He’s dedicated, hardworking, and can take quite a few hits. He’s got plenty of moveset opportunity. And it would be another indie rep, which is really really good for someone like me, who wants to go into game design. 

Another thing: When we got the Cuphead mii skin, we also got Cuphead Spirits. They could have easily done that with Undertale, there’s enough characters. So maybe they’re saving it for a DLC Spirit board? I don’t know, just a theory.

He would be primarily a ground-based fighter, with projectiles that could crawl across the stage like that one sparky item. He could also use his blue attack, which could be good for an easy spike on airborne characters. And, who knows, maybe for his final smash we could finally see his special attack.

I really enjoy Undertale, and seeing Sans as a mii skin made me super happy. Getting a whole fighter from the series would be even cooler. 

- Paper Mario (Super Paper Mario)

Nintendo, we’ve got three whole Links in this game, but only two Marios? Preposterous!

With that being said, Super Paper Mario was one of my favorite Wii games (Although I didn’t play it until very recently) And it’s a very popular series. He’s essentially his own character separate from Mario at this point. The games have so much lore put into them, and we already have a Paper Mario Stage in the game, so maybe we could get Dimentio’s dimension, or the Origami Palace or something.

He’s been in enough games and done enough crazy things to earn a pretty diverse kit for himself. He could use Pixils, the 1000-Fold arms, or even summon Paper Bowser, Peach and Luigi for some attacks. 

I think he would be super fun to play. I’m terrible at vanilla Mario, but I think Paper Mario would be a good fit for the game AND be a super good-feeling character. However, this comes from a G&W main, so take from that what you will.

- King Boo (Luigi’s Mansion)

I 👏 want 👏 more 👏 villains 👏 in 👏 Smash! 👏 

King Boo is a staple of the Luigi’s Mansion series as well as being an enemy for Mario in some games like Sunshine. He’s the Big Bad Evil Guy for Luigi. 

And I DEFINITELY want him in this game. 

It’s not so much the character himself, although King Boo is really good, I want him in for his kit. Think about it. A large character but with floaty jumps like Jigglypuff and an aerial based moveset AND a teleport? He’d be ruthless. And really fun. And that’s what I’m looking for in a character.

- BOTW Zelda (Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity)

Yes, I know. “But Worm, the Zelda we have now is annoying and awful, and you say you want ANOTHER one?!?!?” Well, you’re half right.

Yes, Zelda is known for her darkness-sealing powers in BOTW, BUT, in the recent Age of Calamity game, her moveset for almost have the game revolves around the Sheikah Slate. She uses it creatively, hopping around on ice and whirling metal slabs around with a magnet. And I think that would be a SUPER cool moveset for Smash Bros. 

And who knows, maybe they would call back to older games and allow her to switch to using her powers, like Zelda used to change into Sheik. 

She would be very technical, with her attacks being powerful but with some startup, almost similar to Snake of all characters. And for her final smash she could use a Weak Point Smash or they could bring back Bow of Light (Which was MUCH more fair than the current one, by the way). She’d be fun, and that’s what I want.

- Maxwell (Scribblenauts)

Maxwell is from Scribblenauts, a game where you have to solve puzzles by writing words in a notebook and those words coming to life. So he’s work in the same way in Smash, although much more randomized. 

For his neutral special, maybe he could write a random item and it shows up in his hand. That would be funny AND cool, and it’s possible (because Peach does the same thing with Turnips!). He could use projectiles but also have plenty of close range options, and for a Final Smash he could use the Meteor, which in the game clears the screen of living things. Brutal! He also uses Adjectives on both his creations AND himself, so maybe for some moves he could effect the other opponent with a poison or freeze effect.

Would he be banned in competitive play? Yes. Would he still be fun? Definitely!

- Jibanyan (Yo-Kai Watch)

I may be in the minority here, but I REALLY liked Yo-Kai Watch as a game. It may seem like a cheap Pokemon ripoff, but the gameplay is nothing like it at all. You’re given a map to explore and various objectives within the map, and the battle system is really creative and fun. It’s actually the inspiration for some of my own games. Yo-Kai watch deserved more credit than it got.

Jibanyan is the poster boy for the series (and also has the saddest backstory of any cat-based character ever), and mainly attacks with both his paws and fire attacks. He could have fire-based moves and would almost play similar to Pichu. His final smash could be Paws of Fury, his soultimate move, that would hit like Donkey Kong’s final smash as a flurry of blows. 

This series is really well made and thought out, and it deserves more than it got. So please put my boy in Smash, I’m begging you.

- Specter Knight (Shovel Knight: Specter of Torment)

Okay, yes. I know Shovel Knight is the main character of this series. But again, hear me out.

Specter Knight is either the first or second boss you encounter in the main Shovel Knight game, and he’s already got some moveset potential from that alone. However, he also had his own story mode, Specter of Torment, ad let me say, that is a phenomenal game. I’d go so far as to say it’s better than the main Shovel Knight game itself. His controls are quick and easy to pick up. And he has a whole bunch of special abilities you can get as the game progresses, such as a boomerang or even a shadow clone. 

His smash moveset would pull most of the specials from the unlockable items he can get, leaving room for an incredible spacing game as well as a good aerial defense, as Specter Knight can both float and do a Dash Slash through enemies for some extra air time. 

Shovel Knight is the main character, but Specter Knight obviously has the most soul put into him (Pun not intended). And, again, he’d be fun to control. 

- Master Hand / Fighter Hand (Super Smash Bros. Series)

This is mostly me just being mad at the game for giving us a playable Master Hand, but only once. We couldn’t have even gotten a Master Mode in extras, huh? 

Yes, yes, I know Master Hand is the staple boss character for Smash Bros. He’s been in every game, for crying out loud! I’m honestly surprised it took them this long to give us a playable Master Hand. But this leads into my idea:

A new hand, made specifically to fight in Smash Bros, called Fighter Hand.

Yes, it’s cheesy. Yes, it’s stupid. But hey, it would be fun.

He would have scaled-down versions of Master Hand’s moves, with mainly projectile-based specials and tilts. He would be floaty, although introducing a flying character would be interesting to see how they balance it. For a final smash, maybe they could bring back Master Core from Smash 4 for a Giga Bowser-esque punch.

- The Knight (Hollow Knight)

Hollow Knight is an Indie Game that I never finished (I’m working on it, okay?) that’s kind of like Metroid in the way it’s played. It's also a very popular game, and I like bugs, so they get the number two spot because I like him.

And the special Soul moves you unlock translate well into Specials. Platformers always translate well into Smash, so he would work very well in the game. I don’t know what their moveset would be (as I haven’t finished the game yet), but I know they would be a small, fast character that mainly uses their nail to attack like a sword.

And my most wanted character in Super Smash Brothers: Ultimate is...

- Beatrix LeBeau (Slime Rancher)

Okay, look. I’m aware this has zero chance of happening. Slime Rancher was never the most popular game, and Nintendo has never mentioned it ever. But it’s one of my favorite games, and I just think Beatrix would be an incredible character in Smash Bros. 

She would use her jetpack to recover, she would shoot plorts as projectiles, use he vacpac to suck up both fighters and projectiles, and maybe shoot a boom slime as an explosive and unpredictable bouncing hazard. Her smash attacks and aerials would use the various slimes you can vacuum up and feed in the game, like the Rad Slime and Rock Slimes. She would be really good offstage and onstage with her weakness being her speed. 

She could bring a LOT to this series, and it would be another inspirational indie rep. And, hey, Minecraft Steve got in. Who knows at this point.

Anyway, there’s my list. Feel free to argue with me or explain why Geno should be on my list (I will not care) in the comments or reblogs, this list is not changing unless I play some new game that I feel should be represented.