#can u imagine a cold intro like this lmao

[luvring]

Hello friend are your requests open?? I saw your Cove in school hcs and would like to add: going to university w Cove 👀 if this is too similar to the school hcs feel free to ignore lol I am just having a Normal Amount of thoughts about this boy :')

(Imagine renting an apartment with him and basically living like a married couple tho........ him driving you to class when it rains so you don't have to walk........... lunch dates in the school cafeteria while you both complain about the shitty dining hall food..................)

Okay I'll stop here this is your writing blog lmao XD thank you in advance if you do take this request tho I am looking forward to hearing your thoughts!!

— cove university hcs

You Are So Real. as a uni student i feel sick to my stomach like WHY NOT ME? no cove for me? none for me????? sick sick sick sick

be real. cove asks "are you ready to go home?" and he smiles and it's especially the first few times that he blushes and grins at the thought of Having a Home With You.

^ very much jumped at the chance to live with you when you brought up the idea

cove had his schedule on his lock screen and yours on his home screen for a while. once the both of you figured out a routine and when you could find each other he switched it back to his usual photos (u r in them of course. how else is he going to motivate himself when he's studying)

he really really wishes he could have every single class with you which y'know,, unless you have the same major and same electives isn't going to happen. he gets much happier when you finally meet up after class

still, you guys definitely sat together and planned out your classes. both to try planning breaks together and also for general emotional support.

^ don't get me started on the morning of registration. the refreshing and tension for first year registration because you don't have a backup schedule? crazy.(also my uni website was Horrendously slow)

exam season is hell, obviously. cove checks on you periodically and asks how things are going. if you're prone to overworking his check-ins are how he gets you to take a break.

^ if you refuse he'll try to find a middle ground, but if he knows you need to rest cove Will get you to rest. he's frowning when he speaks. says a loving but firm "you won't be able to study well if you burn yourself out. can you take a break with me?"

exploring the campus with cove!! seeing the different buildings, finding different libraries, pretending you're different majors. you get it

^ the both of you walk around before the first day to figure out where your classes are. it's kind of tiring but you're prepared now so !

figures out what places you both eat at and will memorize your regular order so he can bring it to you

he talks to you whenever he feels homesick because who would understand better than you? you're his biggest source of comfort

the both of you watching those university student meal videos/tiktoks because dear god you can only handle campus food/restaurants for so long.

^ you also text your parents for their recipes and tips whenever you get particularly homesick

HIM DRIVING! gives you a Look when you say you can walk and it's raining or super cold. why would you even say that to him. if you can't drive, either he'll drive you or you walk together. there's no other options.

'sneaking' each other into the particularly big classes—especially the first year intro ones. i say 'sneaking' because it Isn't Difficult At All.

^ you end up just working on your own things, but the extra time together is always nice !!

thinking about cove forgetting his pencil (case) the day of an exam and asking you for one sheepishly. (said by girl who's done this twice.)

he'd love to tell you about what he learns from his major—i'd go ahead and assume it's in the realm of marine sciences. he'd tell you about something cool he learned or maybe already knew from his own research and get very excited !!

^ hopes you'll do the same with him. smth smth sharing is a love language smth smth

reading week and breaks. i just know this guy sighs as he looks at his study guides before saying "just a few more days," to himself. he needs you to remind him too because it's more comforting when he remembers he'll have time off with You

taking pictures together for yourselves and to update your families !!! teasingly taking photos of cove doing mundane things just because it's now at University. first lunch, first class, etc etc

cove totally supports you if you want to join a club or go to any events. he might not go to many, especially if they're bound to be crowded and loud, but he'll ask how it went and want to catch up

we all know there's a difference between high school morning classes and uni morning classes. but cove is a morning person and i can't imagine how many times i'd complain about a 10 am class while he woke up at 6 that morning

🏷 | @lordbugs @xfangirl-trashx @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @bakugosgrenade @vhenis @dreamtydraw

living together means it's that much easier for cuddle sessions after a long day (or any day.) cove is just as happy to come find you as he is to hold open his arms for you. whether you want to rant or have a distraction, he'll be there

**add on | COVE GETTING HIS ACCEPTANCE LETTER! you both opened it at the same time and the relief and excitement that washed over him was overwhelming.

#our life #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove holden fluff #ol:ba

[sanchoyo]

i started watching arc v! finally. after years of saying Im Gonna. its Happening. (i've tried to twice and cant recall what eps i got to in those attempts, because I literally dont remember anything at ALL LMAO) I'm like, 15 eps in and may I just say some Things. ep 1-15 thoughts below the Cut

-yuzu best girl immediately my god shes already been done dirty tho. she shouldve gotten to fight shingo! fuck emo yuya for stopping it and stepping in! (altho yaaaay xyz :3 my beloved) and also she loses the first duel we see her get to do? when her dad is literally the owner of a duel school?? and his school was at stake?? bc she was distracted thinking of Not Yuya? no. fuck off with that lol I'm picking her up and mentally rewriting all that. the girl she dueled against was super fun tho, I ship them tbh.

-yuya is finally the canonical clown ygo protag I needed. he dresses as a clown in ep 1! he has! a circus deck! thats so fun! hes a LOT more melancholic/prone to moodiness than I expected...the goggles as a mood indicator is fun. also seems to care VERY much what ppl think/need lots of applause and praise or he gets upset quickly which. like, wanting to put smiles on ppls faces with dueling is a sweet goal, but a lot of it feels self-serving, too, which is Inchresting for a protag...I LIKE it and want to see where it goes

-and the whole 'laugh when you want to cry' is, ngl, very Bad and Unhealthy and I cant imagine we're going anywhere good with that. (seriously, dont recall what ep, maybe 4 or 5, when the kids and yuzu were in danger he started LAUGHING trying to imrpove his own mood and i was like DUDE. UNNERVING STOP THAT.) let him feel his feelings guys. or this is going to go severely Bad I Think

-dont trust sora but also no shit? his intro is him being sus, basically outright saying 'ya where I come from everyone does fusion, nbd' yeah hes some kind of spy or SOMETHING for that academia that emo yuya was taking abt. and his deck is very cute but also has a dark side/creepy cute thing going on and this is ygo where Decks Indicate Personality, so. just kinda Waiting for him to Stab Backs. hes already kind of a little shit

-he 100% shouldve been dueling that guy gongenzaka had to duel! gongenzaka doesnt even GO here and ms Chairman said someone from this school had to duel her school students! if you want to fake being friends with yuya! you need to fucking put in some EFFORT!!! and at least pretend to give a shit dude, this is the school the guy you supposedly admire attends!!! it comes off as u not giving a fuck abt anything besides pendulum/yuya-related stuff which is gonna make yuya less inclined to wanna be ur friend bc u look like a brat! (I know the meta answer is that they wanted to give gongenzaka some screentime to convince me hes yuyas bff or w/e but. in my mind its been 10 or so eps by this point, yuzu is yuyas bff in my mind lol. )

-anyway that aside soras deck is SO cute. the BEARS!! ARE IN!!!! the 'acting younger/cuter than u are' shtick is already kind of annoying tho. I do like his chara design tho (at least his hair/face? Id redesign his outfit ngl if hes going for a cutecore/sweets theme why not go ALL in yk)

-gongenzaka's whole 'no spells/traps' and standing in one spot during an action duel is objectively really funny

-action duels in general are SO FUN!!! i want to ride my monsters too..i kno theyd be soft. pls.

-really wanted to see more masumi or her vs yuya!!! so sad reiji stepped in. pls let the girls DO MORE!!! i love that she used gem knights!! I love gem knights!!!

-didnt know reiji used d/d/d cards, immediately broke out into a cold sweat upon seeing them. those decks always destroy me in duel links in like 2 turns jkasfkjjn.

-its so funny theres entire classes just for synchro and xyz and most ppl in this world can just Do One of them Only. like everyone being SHOCKED reiji can do All of them LMAO.

-surprised at how much I like reiji actually from just what ive seen up to this point, I mean I Like the other ygo rivals and all but usually they have an Attitude...but hes very polite to yuya and him saying he respects yuya's dad is REFRESHING compared to everyone else calling his dad a coward (for?? seemingly going MISSING??) his fashion choices leave a lot to be desired tho. but otherwise him and yuzu are my favs so far I think...we'll see if this changes!

-I KNOW charas from other series get involved, dont know WHEN thatll be, but I am Excitedly Waiting. give me The King Jack. Give me Kaito. I dont know who all besides those two shows up Actually But Im WAITING AAAA.

#btw if the answers to any of these qs are spoilers i dont wanna hear them! #i know SOME thngs but not too much to not enjoy it yk #arc v #ygo #sanchoyorambles #not exactly a liveblog just my Thoughts A Little Bit #sanchoyo liveblogs arc v

[bubmyg]

there was no particular reason i wrote all this down other than reading the translations to my universe made me cry last week because i’m just Like this. this is a mini compilation of yoongi lyrics that i hold gently in my palm and close to my heart in a he’s my artist for life kind of way. these aren’t all my favorite yoongi lyrics, i certainly have more but not ones that fit this general vibe. 

this is like extremely disorganized, i kind of just wrote it like a journal (and i’ll probably copy it to my bullet journal at some point actually). interpretations are my own, music is cool in that we can all read and hear the same thing and get different things out of it (which is why yoongi has often said he doesn’t attach specific meaning to things, giving it up to the listener instead)

so yeah. here’s me being fond of yoongi in 4k for no reason other than. idk. i wanted to. all translations are from doyoubangtan and doolsetbangtan. 

song request - lee sora ft suga

“I’ll be with you, for your birth and your end; That you’d remember that I’m with you, wherever you are; I’ll be a comfort for your life at any time, and so; please, that you’d lean on me and take a rest, every once in awhile.”

to me, this perfectly encapsulates what creating music is for yoongi in a two-fold kind of way. not only does he want his music to be a source of comfort for those who listen to it (just as the art of music is for himself), he’s also consistent in his assurance that taking a rest is okay. not being okay is okay. simply existing for the time being is okay. it’s a gentle empathy that comes from the experienced heart of someone who’s not going to tell you that it is okay, but will tell you that it won’t always be like this. friendly little moon trying to get you to smile with him on sleepless nights.

so far away - agust d ft suran

dream, will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships

this was on my undergrad graduation cap. it’s one of my favorite lyrics of all time. if so far away is my heart song, this is my heart lyric. this is a common motif in yoongi’s lyrics; dormancy is only temporary, you will bloom at the end of the cold winter.

dream, hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life

creation to end is another common motif n his lyrics. in this specific context, i imagine it to most closely be analogous to holding dreams close to you your entire life. dreams are dreams no matter how they manifest, even if they’re simply something you long for until your “end”.

Hope it to be there with you at your creation and at the end of your life; It will be generous to you wherever you stand; It will eventually be in full bloom at the end of hardships; The beginnings will seem humble, so prosperous will the future be

the entirety of this song reads like a story and this last refrain reads like the conclusion (kind of). the slight wording change from the previous choruses means a lot in that regard, more definite and firm. you will be okay. maybe not now, maybe not next week. but you will be.

suga’s interlude - halsey ft suga

Though the dawn before sunrise is darkest; don’t forget the stars you longed for only rise in the darkness

just a really pretty but heart wrenching lyric in the context of the entire song. he’s also used this metaphor several times. i love me a good string of consistency with minor adaptations to fit the vibe. this song also made me cry the first time i read the translations lmao.

my universe - coldplay ft bts

Because the trial we face now is just for a moment anyway; All you have to do is to just keep shining bright like now; And we will follow you, embroidering this long night

this could mean so many things depending on how you wanted to contextualize it. of course the song is about love, so you could view it in that way. we’re in the midst of a global pandemic where we can’t see each other. or maybe it’s simply existence. continue to exist and one day your bright light will be followed even in the darkest of nights.

also the og title of telepathy being 잠시 (for a moment) is so...min yoongi you are so cool

people - agust d

Did someone say humans are the animals of wisdom?; The way I see it, humans are the animals of regret

Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries; Your ordinaries are my extraordinaries; Your extraordinaries are my ordinaries

super simple to understand which i think makes it more poignant. especially if you contextualize it with everything he’s said or written regarding the plight of fame and how he himself grapples with it as min yoongi.

28 - agust d ft niihwa

just this whole song. if song request encapsulates yoongi’s musical ethos, this captures a lot of his general musings.

paradise - bts

Just living like this, surviving like this, that’s my small dream; Dreaming dreams, grasping dreams, breathing breaths, it’s often too much

a more blunt take on the simply existing is a good enough dream. yoongi’s 2018 new years message was one of the things that made me go “yes. Him™” so paradise is very <3 for me

interlude: shadow - bts

Flying high scares me; I mean, nobody had told me; how lonely it is here –;how my leap could be my fall

another thing he uses frequently, even as recently as an interview regarding permission to dance. the contemplation of how a fall is far scarier than landing because getting back up is uncertain.

Yeah, I’m you and you’re me, do you finally get that now?; Yeah, you’re me and I’m you, do you finally get that now?

the entirety of this song is haunting particularly paired with the sampling and the music video as a visual but this part is just...the whole idea of competing internal voices throughout the narrative of the song or if you’d rather truly treat the lyrics like a piece of literature, you have quite the unreliable narrator, one that’s trying to grapple with his own sense of self.

140503 at dawn - agust d

Pretending that I’m not lonely, pretending that I’m not suffering; needlessly pretending that I’m okay, and pretending hard that I’m strong; I built a wall in front of me, “Don’t come inside”; I’m an island in this wide ocean, “Don’t abandon me”

the entirety of agust d just makes me ache but i mainly pulled this part because he uses the island metaphor consistently. here, it’s used like i said before; achingly.

this song also gets overlooked a lot in the larger context of agust d but anyway

eight - IU ft suga

Island, yeah this is an island; a small island that we made for each other; Yeah, mm, forever young, the word ‘forever’ is a sandcastle; A farewell is just like an emergency text warning of a disaster; A morning met together with yearning; As each of us pass this eternity, we’re sure to meet again on this island

can i be honest and say i forgot this song came out at the beginning of the pandemic. anyway, if you haven’t heard the various times that jieun has spoke about this song and it’s conveyance, i encourage you to. the music video also gives a beautiful visual.

i wrote a small analysis of this when it came out so i’ll just put it here 

burn it - agust d ft max

I hope you don’t forget that giving up decisively also counts as courage

of course this can absolutely be taken at a literal meaning especially considering he said a similar iteration of this to someone on kkul fm BUT i also like looking at it in context of the entire song because maybe this is him trying to convince himself too, especially considering the wording of the last chorus doesn’t change it so it implies in order to get past the fire u need to let it burn first? burn it = giving up on some aspect of pain?

i see why max didn’t shut up for eight months about making this song i wouldn’t either hello

outro: tear - bts

im including this one firstly because i love the song but secondly to say i knew the second u all were surprised by yoongi saying he wrote this as essentially a break up song for bts and they all cried while listening to it that y’all don’t actually read or interact w their lyrics fjdklafjsd

just bc it’s a rap song doesn’t mean it’s a diss or a flex. weirdos.

intro: never mind - bts

I hope you forget about all your mistakes and such; Never mind; It’s not easy, but engrave this in your heart; If you think you’re going to crash, accelerate more, you idiot; Never mind, never mind; Whatever thorny path it may be, go run; Never mind, never mind; There are a lot of things that you can’t control

the entire composition of nevermind is similar to first love and shadow to me where you can just hear the emotion in his voice while performing it

this is also another general idea that he mentions a few different times through different songs which as we’ve seen i am <3 for

intro: the most beautiful moment in life - bts

once again i don’t have a specific lyric to pull i just love this song so much and i feel like it isn’t talked about enough because first of all the use of the basketball throughout the instrumental, the incorporation of the origin of his stage name into an entire song regarding his general existence as a performer and coming into the beginnings of sizeable fame, and just his general way of essentially writing one giant ode to something he loves and analogizing it to something else he loves to talk through internal struggles.

aka im once again saying min yoongi you’re so cool

first love - bts

same line of awe from above this whole song is just a story, a poem, a journal entry, a beautiful confession, i don’t know. this is yoongi’s best bts solo u can argue with a wall about it also if you were able to see this live i hope u have a terrible week (im joking)

every fancam i’ve ever seen of this makes me cry. so. do with that what you will in regards to how i feel about this song.

#i have no reason for posting this so im not gonna tag it with anything other than so i can find it again for myself JFEKWFJS #ffr #my writing #i just realized only one of these is from an ot7 song help #there are so many others. tomorrow. autumn leaves. mikrokosmos. black swan........

[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 ❋

#bangtanarmynet #btsguild #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #fantastical tales for curious souls collab #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi imagine #yoongi scenario #bts #bts smut #bts fic #bts imagine #bts scenario #kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenario

[ofmerrit]

*  ◜  kristine froseth  ,  cis  woman  &  she/her  ◞  *  according  to  school  records  ,  that’s  merrit  antonietta  unn  hornsby  walking  on  campus  grounds  with  their  usual  iced-americano  from  the ancient  grounds  cafe  .  they’re  known  for  their  long  ,  dark  blonde  locks  outshining  their  surprisingly  tall  figure   and  are  often  spotted  at   the  versailles  garden  reading  wild  geese  by  mary  oliver  .  almost  everyone  knows  their  family  is  worth  like  1.2  billion  dollars  ,  so  we  suspect  they’re  a  member  of   olympus   ,  you  know  ,  the  one  for  old   money  .  do  you  know  where  they  were  the  night  that  the  scholarship  student  died  ?  they  claim  they  were  touring  around  the  campus  for  inspiration  ,  must  be  an  architecture major  thing  ,  right  .  and  hey  ,  don’t  you  agree  that  the  sophomore  reminds  you  of  muffled  screams  into  silk  pillows  ,  the  bellyache  you  get  after  doing  something  wrong  &  vacant smiles ?  you  better  watch  out  h e s t i a  before  something  dangerous  happens  to  you  and  life  ends  at  twenty-two  .  *  ◜  barb  ,  twenty-two  ,  gmt +3  &  she / her  ◞  *

alright alright . it’s me , wrinkle free brain bar from gmt +3 !! so pumped to be here w you sexies mwah <3 here’s merrit’s pinterest board if you’re interested ( pls im a virgo n pinterest addict .. lemme make boards for our muses .. id d*e ! ) imma . bore u to de*th w this intro pls .. forgive me .. i only hav 2 brain cells , this is all over the place HDFJK rip </3 tw: kidnapping, death.

starting w the boring statistics :     full name: merrit antonietta ‘antonia’ unn hornsby     nicknames: mer, antonia, ant, tbc.     code name: hestia ; the goddess of hearth , the family , the state & the domesticity.      star sign: libra sun , virgo moon , scorpio rising.     sexuality: bisexual.     favourite literature piece: wild geese by mary oliver ,  an anthology .                                              “meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,                                              are heading home again.                                              whoever you are, no matter how lonely,                                              the world offers itself to your imagination,                                              calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting                                              over and over announcing your place                                              in the family of things.”

merrit is the only child of the young hornsby couple. she doesn’t remember much of her childhood, according to her grandma, she was the happiest kid. had everything she could ever ask for and more. 

the reason why merrit can’t remember any of this is the beginning of a tragedy — a stormy december night, she and her parents went missing. grandma says they were gone for over five months. a kidnapping case gone cold, they thought. right when the old couple was giving up on them, an angel from above delivered antonia to their door step. malnourished, void of any memory but alive.

life after losing her parents was easier than expected, grandma hornsby ( nee du pont ) made sure merrit would recover from this without any trauma & in a way, she did.

doesn’t have the best relationship with her grandpa, he’s harsh and cranky and too smart for his own good, merrit is lowkey afraid of him lmfao 

she’s currently studying architecture — her dream major was interior design but grandpa encouraged her to pursue architecture to follow her father’s footsteps.  kinda made sense because she’s fascinated by houses .. in reality the insides, the families living there are the real source of interest for her but she’s happy to settle for outside for now gshdjkf

personality stuff !!!

uMM.... i’d say she’s lowkey a people pleaser sdhjkf like ?? making her grandparents proud is . literally the only thing she’s ever wanted in this world n now she feels the same responsibility for every single soul in her life . a torturous existence if you ask me 

can’t say no <3  if she thinks its gonna make u feel a tiny bit better . boom . she’s in .

the friend you’d call to bury a body . no questions asked . she’s pickin up the shovel as you speak asdghfjk unless it’s between her grandparents n you, then *michael scott vc* how the turntables.... sdhjfk shes rattin u out instantly rip

LOVES to talk n listen . fills her heart with joy . a blabbermouth . 

an overachiever . doesn’t sleep much, rocks the dark circles 7/24 lmfao works bc doesn’t like the idea of .. wasting life if that makes sense ??

loyal 2 a fault. mostly to olympus. wld do anything to stay in the secret society / establish her place .

extremely gentle n caring . sometimes ?? its just . too much sdjkf like. tone it down <3

likes poetry ,, especially mary oliver n louise glück ! her fav poem is the orange by wendy cope.

i imagine her wearing flowy, tulle dresses with floral embroidery or vintage pieces idk 

has shit ton of plants but struggles to keep them alive rip

!!! im . terrible at explaining her fr i hate it here ok i hav a vision but ??? i cant explain it

safe 2 say shes having difficulty deciding who she’s supposed to be . a part of her wants to be the golden child for her grandparents n the other side .. jst wants to live her life y’know ??? 

UPDATE ! i’ve realised that by hiding her secret, i also unintentionally hid a big portion of her personality and she comes across as the typical, soft & gentle soul. don’t get me wrong, she is indeed gentle and soft but she’s also volatile and deceitful !

connection ideas !!!

childhood friends - except she doesn’t remember any of it. maybe your muse thinks she’s changed. maybe they don’t care. maybe they are no longer friends . idk 

penpals - seriously ???  i imagine her as someone who writes letters jst bc they’re nostalgic n cute ??? cld be fun.

a home - i kno home’s not a person but a feeling but tell that to merrit lmao. this person’s probably the only one in the whole damn world she’d choose over her grandparents. platonic or romantic, doesn’t matter.

betrothed - super old school yikes. nt exactly betrothed either .. maybe her grandma thot it’d be better if these two were in a relationship . maybe they remained as friends . maybe they hated each other . maybe they kept the publicity stunt ( cue 2 merrit begging to keep faking the rel so her grandpa wld be happy )

exes - a classic. ts this is me trying vibes . on good or bad terms . lingering feelings ? yes please .

bad + good influence - again, classic sdhjfk

saw u at the garden but cldn’t say hi bc i’m a dumb binch - basically someone she has a minor, unrequited crush on. probably knows this person through her other friends but she’s too damn timid to take the first step

a friend from labyrinth . ok hear me out . this is a big deal for her bc she’s all in for her society n v opposed to the idea of a second one even existing . wouldn’t say shes openly mean or .. rude to labyrinth members but ?? jst . wants to protect her own , so this would be a v secret friendship .

a project - could say she has some sort of a savior complex . wants to ‘fix’ people up .. toxic much, mer? <3 anyway ashdjk maybe she thinks .. she can change your muse ? i truly dont know. 

ok final one . its juicy . someone who’s suspicious of her . she has a secret n for the obv reason i didn’t talk abt it, your muse’s suspicious n it’s just . hashtag awkward

these r the only connection ideas i have rn my brain said get tht fire exit door im off im so sorry forgive moi bUT im a sucker for angst : ) so theres that 

something inspired by my queen n savior phoebe bridgers or . folklore ?? yeah.

give me noora / william vibes . the ex friends . the dan / blair dynamic . i live for them ok sgdhfjkl

#hqcruel.intro #oke im bit late .. or early idk asdhfkls #no proof reading <3 if u spot stuff . #baby im nt even here . im a hallucination #sdghjfk .. so bad . le shité . i did this . for what ?? #tw kidnapping #tw death #intro.

[hallidaysfm]

hllo  all  ,  it  me  ur  second  fav  admin  sage  comin  2  u  live  from  the  gutters  in  the  est  tz  .  i  got  a  sneak  peak  at  all  ur  characters  &  i  am  v  v  excited  to write with all of u  !!  i’m  lit  rally  the  worst  at  intros  so  i’m  just  gonna  dive  right  into  my  chaotic  boy,  kieran  !    a  rich  boi  freshly  kicked  out  of  yale,  doesn’t  rock  the  boat  shoes  or  the  chinos  or  rly  look  the  part  but…  his  daddy,  will  in  fact  sue  you  :/  

[    matthew  noszka    .    22    .    cismale    .    he/him    ]  just  saw  KIERAN  HALLIDAY  dragging  their  suitcase  up  the  steps  of  QUINBY    .    good  luck  living  with  HIM    ,    word  around  campus  is  that  they’re  VOLATILE    ,    RECKLESS    ,    SOCIAL  &    SELF  DRIVEN    .    makes  sense  they  chose  that  house  now    ,    doesn’t  it    ?    let’s  hope  this  new  living  situation  doesn’t  affect  their  JUNIOR  year  of  ZOOLOGY      [    sage    .    23    .    she/her    .    est    ]

+  walking  a  thin  line  of  barbed  wire,  wicked  smirks  and  smashed  bottles  of  jack,  being  shirtless  under  leather  jackets  &  doing  class  presentations  with  a  black  eye  and  a  hangover.

pinterest  can  be  found  here

background:

his  full  name  is  kieran  jaxon  halliday  his  mom  and  dad  were  two  wildlife  biologists  who  met  while  working  in  south  africa  and  fell  in  love  while  tending  to  a  baby  lion  cub  that  had  gotten  a  nasty  bite  from  a  snake.

they  named  the  cub  jax  and  that’s  where  kieran  had  gotten  his  middle  name

his  parents  made  a  decent  living  with  their  careers  but  his  dad’s  side  of  the  family  -  the  halliday’s,  were  made  of  money  and  gold  baby!!

the  halliday’s  are  a  pretty  prominent  family.  they  own  a  law  firm  that’s  been  running  since  the  1950′s  and  is  dedicated  to  famous  politicians  and  celebrities

his  grandfather  expected  kieran’s  dad  to  take  over  the  firm  after  him  so  you  can  imagine  the  shock  when  his  son  had  chosen  zoology  as  a  major.

kieran  was  born  in  south  africa  -  and  lived  there  until  he  was  13

really  loved  everything  about  it  especially  the  wild  life,  the  nature  and  the  freedom.  when  they  would  visit  the  states  to  see  his  mom  and  dad’s  family  he  thought  it  was  too  congested  and  tamed  and  mundane

his  dad  picked  them  up  and  moved  them  back  to  the  states  when  he  found  out  that  kieran’s  mom  had  been  diagnosed  with  breast  cancer

it  was  like  a  domino  effect    -  first  the  breast  cancer  where  the  doctors  were  hopeful  that  with  enough  treatment  she’d  be  in  partial  remission  in  no  time-  that  was  until  it  started  to  spread  and  within  two  years  the  two  halliday’s  had  lost  the  most  important  woman  in  their  lives

while  it  impacted  both  of  them  -  it  seemed  that  it  really  hit  his  father  in  a  different  way.  he  basically  turned  his  back  on  kieran  and  turned  really  cold  and  decided  to  take  over  the  law  firm  and  threw  himself  into  work

this  changed  kieran  in  the  sense  that  he  had  to  adapt  to  living  in  the  states  seeking  out  different  thrills  to  make  him  feel,  to  make  him  numb,  to  make  his  world  exciting  again,  to  forget  and  to  piss  off  his  dad

he  instantly  became  a  trouble  maker  -  got  kicked  out  of  various  private  schools,  was  caught  drinking  in  school,  took  his  dad’s  cars  out  for  joy  rides,  has  had  various  dui’s  and  has  been  caught  high  as  balls  by  the  police  multiple  times  but  this  never  breaks  out  to  the  public  -  his  dad  sweeps  in  and  the  charges,  the  potential  scandals,  everything  all  vanish  overnight.

yale  was  his  top  choice  for  school  and  while  his  family’s  name  obviously  got  his  foot  in  the  door  and  he  coasted  through  his  classes  -  his  grades  were  above  average  and  honestly  if  he  truly  applied  himself  he  would  be  deadly

he  started  an  underground  fight  club  at  yale  during  his  freshman  year  which  he  made  quite  a  profit  off  of,  and  also  he’s  just  really  into  fighting  in  general  so  it  gave  him  a  place  to  do  it  without  having  to  pick  fights  with  random  frat  boys.

known  around  yale  as  the  american  god  for  the  kind  of  power  he  holds,  his  looks,  and  the  way  he  carries  himself.

his  mom  was  born  and  raised  in  monterey  before  moving  to  south  africa

while  they  spent  a  good  chunk  of  time  in  monterey  when  they  moved  back  to  the  states,  after  his  mom  died,  kieran  and  his  dad  moved  full  time  to  new  york  city  where  his  dad  took  over  the  halliday  law  firm.

their  monterey  home  is  right  by  the  water  with  their  own  private  beach  area.  basically  before  his  dad  moved  them  back,  he  had  his  mom’s  dream  home  built  for  her.  now,  his  dad  hardly  ever  comes  back  but  kieran’s  lowkey  a  sentimental  bastard  and  splits  him  time  during  the  summers  in  monterey  and  the  hamptons

end  of  sophomore  year  he  messed  with  the  wrong  guys  and  got  kicked  out,  they  ended  up  ratting  out  his  underground  fight  club  lmao  and  after  being  threatened  a  bunch  of  other  students  came  forward  and  confirmed  it.  so  that  mixed  with  all  the  other  shit  he’s  pulled  and  a  couple  other  lies  about  him  –  he  got  booted  out

his  dad  is  actually  so  pissed  at  him  and  embarrassed  bc  their  name  and  money  couldn’t  even  stop  that  shit  from  being  made  public  ?

like  halliday  son  kicked  out  of  yale  for  starting  underground  fight  club?  an  iconic  page 5 headline  but  unwanted  by  his  dad  100%

he’s  been  threatened  with  his  trust  fund,  he’s  been  blacklisted  from  all  other  ivy  leagues

the  only  reason  he  got  into  halston  is  because  his  mom  went  here  and  was  ..  v  well  loved.  catch  her  picture  hanging  over  in  the  zoology  building

his  uncle  (  his  mom’s  brother  )  is  also  on  the  board  of  admissions  so  once  again,  his  name  got  him  through  the  door!

personality:

very  into  anything  that’s  going  to  endanger  his  very  existence  -  picks  fights,  drinks  until  he  passes  out,  street  races,  jumps  off  cliffs  u  name  it..  kieran  has  done  it.  it’s  almost  a  miracle  the  boy  is  still  alive.  just  recklessly  lives  on  the  edge  and  will  willingly  take  the  fall

v  straight  forward  and  vulgar

will  fuck  you  over  with  a  polite  smile  on  his  face

his  favorite  animals  are  lions  :’)

usually  has  a  bruise  under  his  eye  but  the  wicked  grin  he  sports  probably  distracts  away  from  it  plus  he’s  a  pretty  boy

sports  a  leather  jacket  like  its  his  second  skin!!

is  down  for  anything  and  is  loyal  af  if  he  considers  you  a  friend

any  excuse  to  fight  -  he  will  fight  lmao

used  to  throw  the  biggest  and  wildest  parties  at  his  place.  will  trash  his  house  solely  to  piss  his  dad  off.  a  gatsby  man  of  sorts  where  people  just  showed  up  at  his  house.

not  humble  in  any  sense,  flirts  a  lot,  manipulates  occasionally  and  is  all  around  just  here  for  a  good  time,  not  a  long  time

#halston.intro #tw: cancer #tw: drugs #tw: drinking #alright... this is a mess #but its all i got

[willmelon]

i don’t usually do this but i feel Compelled to do a liveblog/review of Mouth Dreams so here goes

Please don’t read this if you haven’t heard the album yet as it’ll spoil Everything

(i’ll admit the idea came to me After i listened to Just a Baby so these first ones are gonna be relistened reviews)

first we got Yahoo. what can i say about this song? neil starts off Strong with incredibly sustained notes and just one phrase, in typical neil style. and he makes it work in so many different ways! honestly didn’t expect myself to get so attached so fast but that’s just the way his magic works ig. when the hoooooooos harmonise it almost brings tears to the eyes. i would love to see a group of choristers singing this with another guy on an electric keyboard. what a cold open. 9/10

of course then we go on to the titular track, the dimension of sound, the dimension of imagination, the dimension of doors. rod serling narrates the intro in his traditional monotone as the warbling twilight zone theme plays in the background. i tell ya i was actually Screaming when the track finished and he dropped the title! it may not be a song per se, sort of like Blockbuster from Mouth Moods, a ‘filler track’ if you will, but the effort in those fifty seconds cannot be ignored. it just goes to show once again how Good he is at what he does. 6.5/10

oh lawd, my favourite so far, Spongerock. reading the title i had absolutely No idea what to expect. the goofy goober song from the movie? winner takes all from band geeks? i was pleasantly surprised to find myself tapping out queen’s distinctive boom boom CLAP as the song progressed, and i was in complete Hysterics the whole way through, chanting along with the kids as the pirate encouraged me to sing louder. it’s such a beautiful fit the way they mesh together, and it’s one of those mashups that you listen to and think ‘why has nobody done this before?’ but neil is on a higher plane of existence than us and Knows where it’s at. you’re never the same after you’ve listened to Spongerock. 7.5/10

Just a Baby, where i stopped to begin this thing, is a melancholy song, which i’m not usually a fan of. i admit i don’t know the original song so i kept quiet until the last chorus or two. it’s the yang to the yin of Wow Wow from Moods, another sentence-mixer that was like a full Bop and barely gave you time to catch your breath. in Just a Baby you begin to empathise with the singer as he regales confusing times of his constant youth, including the time his mother (a train) shot a man in cold blood. it’s a powerful ballad, and it’s got a tasteful amount of justin bieber adding backing vocals to the chorus. i may have to deduct a few points cos the lyrics are gonna be hard af to remember. 7/10

ok next up we got Superkiller. this one’s totally blind! i’m. ehhhhh okay not diggin this one very much. ok that say something once line being repeated was comedy gold but talking heads are just like. kinda tuneless tbh. i’m glad he’s trying to lassoo it together with u can’t touch this but it’s kinda falling short tbh. i wouldn’t skip it but it’s not as memorable as the previous ones. 5/10

starting Get Happy. i’m not gonna lie i think i Know what this is, there are only so many options after all. i predict it’s a mix of “get dancin’” by disco-tex and the sex-o-lettes and “happy” by bahrrel williams, and i really hope that ain’t the case cos i Love the first one but despise the latter. oh well let’s see if he can pull it off. sounds like village green by the kinks so far lol uhhhh i have no idea what to make of this. okay i feel like i’m gonna like this after all. hey it’s got memorable lyrics at least! is it gonna get faster? or just more bassy? yknow maybe i was too critical at the start, but i had no idea what to expect. this is a feel-good pop song and it’s definitely making me feel happier than i was when i was listening to Superkiller. 7/10

Ribs? wtf do i expect from a song called Ribs lmao another song i’ve never heard of IH IT’S EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE TH WORLD OH YEEEEEEEEES omg i Love this song i sing it to myself when i’m walkin my dog cos his little paws click-clack on the pavement to the exact rhythm of the song omg i’m in Love! another one with odd lyrics but i think after a Lot of repeat listening i’ll be able to properly croon along to this one omg! it reminds me of Best from Mouth Silence in that they’re both about products, only instead of folgers in your cup it’s about chili’s baby back ribs omg neil you’re Perfect! how come more advertisers haven’t contacted you for a product placement deal?? 7.5/10

next we got My Mouth. welcome to? who knows let’s hit play. ooooh minor key. is this a real song? it sounds like oney singing a cover of something. oh That’s the gimmick? 2:30 long i hope there’s something else tbh cos otherwise it’s gonna get pretty thin pretty fast. mm not a fan. the weakest so far imo especially after Ribs blew me away. definitely a bad dream. 3.5/10

Aerolong don’t fail me now! okay see This is how you do a mashup. I DON’T MISS YOU BABAY AND I DO WANNA MISS A THING THAT’S GOLD!! this is just a song about saying bye to your ex lmao i love it. wish it was longer though. 6/10

Sleepin’ here we go! ok in the youtube version the first half of this song is just silence so that wasn’t fun. gee this one’s only moderately better than My Mouth i’m feeling very shortchanged. 4/10

what to expect from Aamoorree? hopefully this one’s another jam but...okay i’m likin this one. it’s Fun and isn’t trying too hard! it’s just a drunk dean martin singing about pizza pie on karaoke night, what more could you ask for lol. 6/10

Where Is My Mom? by the p-p-p-pooo-oo-ooo-oooool of course. i don’t recognise the other song but it’s decent. i’ve listened to slowed-down songs before (the sludgefest chipmunks albums lately) and this one’s kinda ok. not a fan of the ending but points for effort ig. 5.5/10

Fredhammer ay? might there be some peter gabriel in there? undoubtedly. yup there it is lol ok now bring in the flintstones? oh ig that’s fred durst? mm not totally feeling it so far but censoring he** was funny lmao HEY THERE’S SEINFELD i’m wheezin that was a good way to end a song, well done neil. 6.5/10

here goes Limp Wicket. i’m on the edge of my seat. and Again i’m disappointed. is this a bunch of ewoks singing some kind of star wars song? or is it jarjar? either way this is Not a good song. it probably wasn’t before he mashed it up but this wasn’t an improvement. bringing in Fredhammer didn’t help this song much at all, in fact i think it brought both songs down actually. last one was a 7/10 but i Have to dock it points now that it’s a two-parter. as for this one? i’m being generous cos the limp bizkit song was good. 1/10

Cannibals runs for 4 minutes. PLEASE don’t let this be a repeat of the last one. i get that miners can’t dig up gold every time but don’t just show up with a bunch of rocks and iron pyrites yknow i’m just gonna start. i don’t want to be angry at this album. i recognise that sound in the bg! from a cyriak vid i think. thx comin in. loooooooong drone. ugh UGH there are Too many lucid dreams on this album. starting to regret liveblogging this cos i Loved the other three mouth albums. this one’s just falling flat again and again. 3/10

here comes The Outsiders. there is NOTHING to say about this. 1.5/10

come on Johnny. okay that got a laugh out of me, not many songs start with a booing crowd like that, is that meta? wouldn’t put it past him tbh. ah i’ll give it a 5/10, for a kinda filler song it wasn’t too bad.

Closerflies, this has gotta be gold. PLEASE. intro’s goin on for a little too long...mm having never heard the original version of closer i gotta admit i thought it’d be faster, like the one used in Rollercloser in Silence. this version seems very sloppy and sluggish, especially the bassline. 3/10

Nightmovin’ i’m not expecting much OH good intro oh YES now here we go. this is a good one, it’s got clear lyrics and a catchy tune, i’m liking this one more and more by the second. cuts off weird but it’s going into the next one. so i’m gonna leave the rating out of this one and see how it is after the next one.

Whitehouse i’m holding my breath. mm it’s Good but not great tbh. criminal that the last one was half as long as this one. think i’m gonna give both of these songs a 5/10 i doubt they’ll be anyone’s favourites. the title is a nice little joke too i respect that.

Wah! what’s neil’s obsession with using wannabe as a source lmao! it’s another decent one but nothing memorable again. 5/10

Pee Wee Inc i’m expecting big things. good intro I’M IN LOVE okay this is Much better than i imagined it’d be. did he use the radio edit of feel good inc? this is a heck of a way to bring it back to the gold stuff and i wouldn’t be surprised if this is what neil’s head sounds like all the time. 7/10

on to 10,000 Spoons. not sure what to expect from the title. okay this is a Nice one i think. throwback to the likes of Just a Baby with the two songs and the sentence mixing and it’s Good. and really 10,000 spoons is So ironic anyway, don’t you think? 7/10

oh another song called Mouth Dreams? an extro? that was Weird lol ok the intro i wasn’t too keen on, def not as much as the intro, but i got to appreciate it as it went on. like Rlly appreciate it i was beginning to reflect on what a journey i’d been through tonight, especially writing it all down. felt very poetic. and then WHAM, out of nowhere, after being gone for 23 songs, all-star came Back and How! gotta give this one a 7.5/10

keep the train rolling Brithoven! i can hear faint bits of instruments in britney’s song in the back of her audio which sound like a mistake but knowing neil.......yah lmao. this song’s kinda like Promenade (Satellite Pictures at an Exhibition) from Mouth Sounds, i liked what i heard. very nice. 6.5/10

the final song. we’re gonna be hit one more time for Ain’t! and i have NO idea what i’m in for! in the hall of the mountain king eh? is this like a way of looping around to the first song of the first album with classical music? ok the snoring’s a nod to Bustin i’m sure lmao funny anyway. i thought i heard a hey now in there but i must be going nuts. wouldn’t call it a grand finale but it is what it is. 5/10

now the question that must be asked - was Mouth Dreams trying to make a point? was there a reasons so many songs were of lower-quality than previous albums? perhaps it’s just a matter of taste, or perhaps it’s as rod said back on track two, that this album is a doorway into another dimension, and the further you progress, the more mind-rattling, brain-melting concepts you come across. the album gets an average of 5.5 which is kinda disappointing. don’t think i’ll be listening to the whole thing again. thanks for reading!

#mouth dreams #neil cicierega #liveblog #review

[bernadette-baguette]

dumb stuff I've said

•"my body tries to hypothermia me so I'll hypothermia it and see how my body likes it when I call the shots"

•"I can't promise anything I might get sucked outside again"

•"i was pissed so I took a walk all the way to coldstone"

•"kill that bitch and scooby-dooby-doo his ass"

•"I burnt my finger on a hot bowl because I thought my hands would be cold enough to make me immune to the heat"

•"I'm joking man lmao China owns what they do, I'm just not a fan of sending photos like gunfire"

•"it was open note and my dumb ass managed to bomb it with a 77.5"

•"If it's cold and I'm bundled up my body will hypothermia me"

•"actually u gotta put them a certain way; child support, then taxes"

•"I happen to have rlly good luck with my car, I've come close to being hit or hitting someone a few times, but luck's on my side, I think it's because my last name's Carr"

•"I had so much cool stuff bro but here's the thing half of my house is somewhere in the world.. it's out there "

•"according to you I'm a nerdy jock"

•"I dunno what the fuck my body is doing with these one-day pain parties"

"for a person who hates pie, I make a good pie."

•"so, there I was, bent over, with my flashlight but aimlessly tapping my hands in the grass looking for my ring in front of an Outback while Nick Jonas' "Jealous" was blaring."

•"modern times cannot force me to conform, I am getting more vintage by the minute."

•"I'm uncultured to this culture."

•"what if I turn my phone's clock ahead by a week? my shoes'll get here faster!!"

•"yes I am I lack common common sense and I am zoned in the 70s-90s"

•((bisexual panic intensifies))

•"high school's stressful and if someone wants to make fun of me for my damn light up shoes, go ahead, but I will automatically be 420% cooler than them bc I can just turn em on and moonwalk my ass outta your negative vibe zone."

•"I can literally go to work and switch it my left hand and people will think I'm married lol"

•""how was your day madam?" ooooooh hit me right in the knees"

•"off topic, but my best analogy yet; "this is like ordering a pizza at your favorite pizza place; however, you get the wrong pizza! but, you can't be mad because it's your favorite pizza place!""

•"I swear I'm not a player but when you're single, ready to mingle and you're an idiot who takes 15 minutes in the candy isle, there's a problem."

•"this Airbnb does not have crayons. I feel it is imperative for every Airbnb to have crayons. I'm leaving a bad Yelp review for this Airbnb."

•"is it bad that RHCP plays in my head even when I'm not actually listening to them..?"

•"one day, someone's gonna come up to me while I'm scattabopping to RHCP's "can't stop" intro and they're gonna yank out my ear bud at just the right time and go, "when are you gonna shut the fuck up?" and the I'm gonna go, "can't stop, addicted to-""

•"daisy's verdict: it looked like a shit of armour. - suit! suit of armour!! auto correct!!"

•"I like to use Ryan Gosling pictures to convey my emotions."

•"so, again, if I'm not the funniest thing since sliced bread, you haven't lived."

•"Tessa, aka the Bitch of The Brady Bunch who just wouldn't stop hissing and growling at everyone. Dude, eat a Snickers or something."

•"Imagine having a baseball bat named "Stevie Fuckin' Wonder Pets""

• "Coral bleaching is caused by white supremacy-"

• "I wanna smell like a snicker doodle!"

•"yanno what's better than perfume? lotion. lotion is subtle, you gotta get close to smell it... and then.. When they least expect it.. boom broken neck."

•"shut up! shut up! you didn't see me in the preteen girls bra section of Walmart! you didn't!"

•"Steven, if you don't shut the fuck up, you're about to be a scared pog."

•"yes, I socialized today. my friend got me a Christmas gift: scarves. that I promptly choked myself with. "Oh! Just what I wanted!" *rushedly ties scarf around throat and tightens* "yay!""

•"c'mon guys! This is simple brain knowledge! Same for your hands! Hand knowledge!"

•"very funnies. I have unfortunately adopted a very unhealthy addiction to Welch's fruit snacks. I ate so many packs that Vincent told me I smelled like them."

•"my dad said he was gonna give me some cigars. They were top tier, too, bro. Suddenly, poof, he leaves yet again."

•"this is likely the size I shall retain for the rest of my days. I have one superpower, scaring the shit outta people with my cold-ass hands."

•"baby you can roll me up into a cigar ;)"

•"got an older guy hitting on you? hit him with this! "Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, for legal reasons, that is a joke. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone of legal-age pleasefuckoffthankyouverymuch-""

•"I'm the teen embodiment of Anthony Kiedis, Johnny Knoxville, and George Carlin!"

"well, well, well, if it isn't the actions of the consequences of my actions."

#📷 #dumb stuff #quotes #funny quotes

[elegiesforshiva]

This is a review for the amazing sasusaku fanfic Perpetual Winter by @thefangirlslair It’s a brilliant modern AU and I highly recommend it!!!  You can read it on fanfiction.net or tumblr :)))) FF: c l i c kkkk Tumblr: Part I, Special Chapter, Part II And time for a criminally late and obscenely long review!!!

Pt I

Winter has never been his favorite season

Damn what an intro, I’m already getting angst vibes lmao.  I really like how you set the scene and stage the world of this AU.  I didn’t expect the existence of clans in this piece, with it being a modern AU, but this is such a fascinating twist on the setting to me. I loved how you described Naruto’s endurance as unnatural, “like there’s a demon living inside him” and Sasuke and his clan have inexplicable warmth….inexplicable do I dare say…fire ???? ;))))))

Lmao seriously what a great way to pay homage to canon though.  I love these attributes!

Modern au Sasuke that reads poetry and drinks coffee is a brand of pretentiousness I can get behind

Aaaaaaa omg I really REALLY REALLY fucking love this intro!  I love how you describe Sasuke as appreciating liveliness, and vibrance—which we can honestly assume is canon with how his two closest people are the embodiment of these traits.  And I love how you tie it back into the seasons.  This really gives so much life to that motif in this story, and the title. That was clever af

…he was taken back to the time where winter was just a mere season, Bon Iver was playing on their shared earphones, and Sakura was his. 

WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST FUCKING DESTROYED ME WHAT A WAY TO SEGWAY INTO THE NEXT SCENE OOOOF IM KSJDFHLJSAKFL

There are so many things I love about this following scene…  you really know how to write a couple in casual, mutual love.  The banter and candidness of their interaction just has me floored. I also REALLY love that this is from Sasuke’s perspective, and how even though he doesn’t have an overwhelming amount of dialogue, we’re in his head, and his appreciation and love for Sakura just radiates.  Lines like these:  

From her latest discovered band to a recent discovery in medicine by a genius dude whose name he doesn’t even remember, she shares it with him. Favorite anime character, favorite memory with him, favorite pair of underwear — he knows it all because she’s that open to him about things she love.

They’re just….so good. I can hear his voice, his ardor, and his impeccable understanding of Sakura’s personality while also expressiong his own.  The choice of having the narrative skewed through his lens was def a good decision. And ugh this piece is just overwhelmingly amazing already

He doesn’t know the pain to be dealt with when you’ve broken up with someone because Sakura was his first girlfriend. And honestly, he doesn’t, couldn’t, even think about being apart from her. Just the thought of them breaking up already makes him panic a little. He always thought to himself, ‘I will never let that happen.’

Okay this paragraph……………this paragraph tho……..dropping this.  KNOWING. They’re gonna break up……….HOW DARE U

Seriously, what powerful writing.  I don’t know how you do it……

I think it’s incredibly interesting that you chose music to be the catalyst for this beautiful, climactic moment of closeness  My best friend/partner and I have had convos before about it, and she and i once talked about how we think of sex with music lol.  I don’t know how to entirely explain myself on that, or where I’m really going with this, but I get the same vibe here too.  Music that’s close to you is like an artistic intimacy and there’s something very personal and vulnerable about it.  Maybe it’s an auditory thing, like getting lost in one of those guided meditations.  (idk if you’ve ever had one that actually worked, they don’t always for me, but when they do god damn, it’s unreal)  Either way, I really loved the way this scene played out, it was highly relatable and highly emotional, and I feel serenity and ardor just reading it.  Beautifully done.

I love the way you moved back to the present and we immediately feel the differences and the similarities.  The fondness and affection is still there, if not a little more muted, and it’s so obvious they still have feelings for each other.  But there’s definitely moments that speak to their separation too, with the little differences in Sakura that Sasuke notices, or instances like her no longer drinking coffee or him deciding to open the door.

I really like how you inserted the interaction with Kakashi too.  One thing I’m quickly noticing about this fic and your writing is how you very stealthily relay information to us readers.  It’s seamless and entertaining, and I’m learning about this world and the past in ways that are so attention grabbing I don’t even notice it.

Also Itachi’s death and the way you handled it from Sasuke’s pov is so reminiscent of canon and also so gut wrenching.  The lines 

How dare Itachi leave him alone? How dare Itachi sacrifice himself and die? How dare Itachi pass his responsibilities onto his shoulders… 

especially gutted me because of how is stands in stark parallels to the Sasuke we know in canon.  This really smacked my head around with feels….poor Sasuke

OMFG POOR SASUKE !!!?!?!??!?!??!? THAT ENDING OOOLOGDSLGFSLKDGHLSDHFLKDFHVSLKV WHAT A FUCKING CURVE BALL LMAO

I mean maybe I should have seen that coming because like of course!!!  But also I’M LOSING M Y SHIT HAHAHAHAAA

I can’t wait to see how this unfolds!!!!!

Special Chapter

This is such a powerful scene to start with.  Itachi’s entire character was such a major influence in canon and seeing the way his death is affecting everyone now is so emotional.  I feel so bad for Sasuke, having to take on all the burdens Itachi had left behind for him.

Also these lines:

“Mikoto cried, “Don’t you think it’s too soon? I just buried my first-born just barely a week ago and now we’re discussing how you’re gonna ruin my youngest’s life just like you did with Itachi?!”

The way her voice cracked when she said his brother’s name broke his heart. She’s still grieving, probably forever, and here they are talking about Sasuke’s suicide.”

Literally killed me. Dead.  Deceased.  Fallen to the Void.  It’s so brilliant and powerful, and speaks so deeply on their dysfunctional family dynamics and feelings with so few lines.  Really loved this…

This next scene was so stark and sad and beautiful.  I meant to comment and pull lines again, but I couldn't stop reading tbh.  Sasuke's thoughts and emotions concerning Sakura are so vividly gentle and full of praise.  There's such a soft worship in the way you write his feelings towards her and tbh it's my absolute and only interpretation of feelings I care for concerning the depiction of their relationship.  Still, you do this with a certain cleverness and mastery.  It's really so moving for me...

The dream sequence that follows is absolutely debilitating, but so well done.  I got the sense it was a dream only a few lines in just from the bluntness of the lines.  It was truly very dream-like lol.  I really could feel the panic and guilt along all of his inner turmoil.  It's incredibly horrific to have such a dream about murder just after Itachi's too.  This was devastating.

I really loved the way Sakura calms him groom the panic/anxiety attack.  I've actually had a similar experience once, where I woke up from a nightmare and I was very frightened and stiff and couldn't really articulate myself.  I remember I had felt deep horror and self loathing and nothing else.  (I still remember the nightmare too, it was horrible.)  My best friend at the time just threw herself on the bed and held me.

It's so crazy how grounding touch can be.  I really felt that with Sasuke and Sakura too.  The comfort she offers him is so seamless to her character and so ardently palpable.  The repetition of "I got you" really touched me especially.  It breaks my heart knowing the inevitable end of their relationship to come.

Oooooohhhh daaamnnnnn

I did NOT see the raunchy sex coming lmfao!!  Although in hindsight, I probably should have.  You already told us how they tend to get down and dirty when emotions run high with the arguments and make-up sex.  I imagine this is instigated by Sasuke often, with him struggling to articulate his need for Sakura verbally so he does so physically.  And I imagine Sakura is just kinky enough to crave this sort of animal want.  

I do love how sexual interactions are easily moving in tandem with their emotions, how it just feels like another mode of communication.  Sasuke breaking down during it leaves me feeling so tender too.  It's tragic

She smiled. Sasuke doesn't know if he wants that smile or not.

These exit lines are going to fucking kill me istg

The following events honestly hurts to read because Damn haven't we all been there...  the fallout of a relationship to the point where you're just dragging it through the mud… it’s a true deterioration of soul and you capture that slow death so well.  I really feel terrible for Sakura—Sasuke too—but it sucks for her to be in the dark like this.  

I love the way you write Karin!!!  Honestly, I think it really mirrors the way she's written in canon.  She's cold and strategically loud and generally calculating and overall kind of apathetic.  She doesn't really know the value of meaningful relationships (and therefore doesn't prioritize them) until much later on in the series.  I definitely get this sense of her here too.  She's a little cold, but not cruel, and she has the pragmatic values of her and Sasuke's union in mind as she agrees to it all.  I really like how you made her personality come through here.

Meanwhile there’s him, sucking all the hard traits from their father. His competitive streak, arrogant way of speaking, harsh words — it’s all Fugaku. And suddenly, he feels so exhausted.

This line hit me so hard. I love this fic already for an endless number of reasons but a striking one is how well you interrogate the relationships between family.  When you described Itachi’s death as Sasuke losing a part of him, I really felt that. And here when you write about the way Sasuke takes after Fugaku and hates it and is also exasperated from it, just like how his father likely is, it just runs bone deep.  You really know how to speak to life experiences and relationships in consistently intimate ways.  I love that about you

This is his reality now — no more dream, no more Itachi; and pretty soon, no more Sakura.

’It hurts,’ Sasuke thought. 'It hurts, aniki.’  

Wow death by angst lmao thanks for the pain, maren, glad to know you like to torture your readers as much as our ninja babies.  Srsly tho the cadence of these lines and the material itself sync up perfectly.  It’s such powerful writing

This entire scene is stuffed to the brim with dread and turbulence, and it’s so lifelike, I feel it’s haunting.  The way you describe the suffocating atmosphere of the car ride, how Sasuke snaps at Sakura for simply knowing that something is up, the awkwardness of the dinner… You really brought so much passion into these scenes, I feel like I’m being tortured right with them lol

I looooooove the drama of this playing out omg.  The way you have this convo go down is like a punch to the gut.  Sakura announcing her acceptance to Harvard, and then her refusal to go. Sasuke knowing he’s the reason why…the guilt…the anger…

Also omfg these lines:

Sasuke hardened his resolve and stiffly said, “No. I don’t need you, Sakura.”

’Yes, I do.’

Sakura shook her head, “Yes, you do.”

I DIED.  Sakura callin’ him out on his bull shit I fucking LOST IT lmaooOOooo   I love this so much and I love how you write their dynamic!  It’s funny how this fic plays into a lot of romantic clichés but also subverts them—gives them a twist that knocks the reader right off their feet. It’s honestly incredible

I loved the way you brought in winter into this scene too.  The image of it, the feel of it, the terrible, lonely tone.  It suits the entire mood of it all.

This is going to sound super dumb but I genuinely love how much agency you give Sakura btw.  You probably know I’m a raging, batshit feminist by now and I gotta say, her dialogue is consistently powerful and reeks of someone who knows who they are, and their worth, even when in the fallout of a relationship where they are getting the short end of the stick.  Like I’m just sitting here reading “Sasuke, you dumb jackass, what are you doing” lmfaoooo LIKE GURL I WOULD TREAT U SO GOOD…. SAKU BB IM SO SORRY BUT ALSO TRUST I KNOW HOW IT BE

I really do love it.  And I love how you wrote Sakura as an orphan too.  It really flips the script on the canon material (eat shit, kishimoto!!  Women can have trauma and real backstories not centered around men, u misogynistic pile of adskjfhsklhfalkd)  I just feel she’s very well written, and tangible, and powerfully human.  I’d be just as smitten as Sasuke tbh

The last scene is so upsetting… it’s also strangely warming too though.  It’s terrible Sasuke’s been broken down like this, but there’s something about this scene where he feels raw, and expresses his pain in a very infantile way, literally crying out to his mother about how it hurts.  I really feel he’s been stripped of not just his life, but himself, under the weight of Itachi’s death and all that’s come with it, and it makes my heart ache.  I loved this chapter, in all it’s infinite sadness.

Part II

He closed his eyes and thought about his talk with his father earlier, “We’re okay now. He called me while I was with Itachi.”

Love the ease and depth of this single line of dialogue.  How Itachi is not alive but is still with him, and how it speaks to the way we humans grieve and the continuity and strength of relationships even after someone leaves.  It’s just very simple and human, and it popped out at me.

He couldn’t even remember the last time they talked on the phone, or the last time he heard Fugaku as a father, not as the Uchiha patriarch.

Uggghhhhhhh this is exactly how I felt Fugaku was like in canon too.  This fic is just full of brilliance, I really adore the way you describe all the relationships, but the complexity between Sasuke’s and Fugaku’s is really striking to me.  You nail it perfectly.

And this whole intro where Fugaku apologizes to Sasuke and tells him he is proud…. I feel as if a major levee has been broken.  While he’s in front of Itachi’s grave too.  This Sasuke really has that same parallel with the one in canonverse where I feel he is held back by his family trauma, family obligations, the weight of blood.  And this scene feels like a breaking point.  Where Sasuke can be a man instead of an Uchiha, in the same way Fugaku gives him this moment as a father instead of an Uchiha patriarch.  It certainly feels like a cleansing of sorts.

Once you thought you’re over it, one pink-haired beacon of spring will bloom in your eternal winter and blow all your progress into next week. What a woman. He will never find anyone better.

AaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA !!!! this IS what I mean!!!  His inner thoughts of her ugh….i’m so weak…Sasuke you lovesick fool…. And the return of the beautiful seasons motif.  I love this so much

 You can say they were drunk — with liquor, with each other, with love.

I just adore this line. It really emphasizes the vibe of their past relationship and the picture as a whole, and just that electric feeling of being consumed with someone.  The description and cadence of it is just really catching, and I love it

 God, this entire scene. Damn, maren.  It’s criminal how well you write the tension of such a casual conversation.  It feels as if an interrogation of sorts is occurring, and yet it’s still a heartwarming kind. Sakura is not vicious or mal-intentioned in inquiries and yet it still leaves Sasuke weak and defenseless if only because of his feelings for her.  There’s so many ways you assert it too.  It’s in every line, every detail.  This one in particular stood out to me:

Sasuke clenched his fist under the table and scoffed, “I hope my mother didn’t tell you how miserable I was.”

'Still am,’ he corrected in his mind. 'How miserable I still am.’

I remember you used this particular tactic when also describing Itachi’s feelings from Sasuke’s POV. (Something along the lines of how he does became how he did because he is gone)  In this fic where time is moving back and forward in a non-linear fashion, these details are especially striking.  Despite the changes and pushes and pull, this one fact is consistent—Sasuke loves Sakura.  And we, as readers, relearn it with every line.

Also I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOvE that Mikoto saw Sakura off, and that there is this undertone of a bond. Like ughhhhh I’ve so been there, where there’s that depth of understanding between women and relationships that men don’t always know about or know how to grapple with it.  My ex resented me for it lmfao

Adkjfasklfalsjdkfakls SASUKE CAN RELATE TO HIM APPARENTLY AHAHAHAAHHA B SNAPPEDDDD I totally get it though, it’s a little intrusive of Sakura to ask for that, but we all also know why she did.  Poor saku bb is in love with this emotionally constipated idiot lmao.  Oh I love the endless pining and miscommunication of it all !!!

“I thought you’d be here,” a voice came and knocked on the closed door of his heart. He turned his face towards it, he saw her and suddenly his doors came opening again.

The winter sun was directly behind her, giving her this eerie glow. Like a nymph; a spring nymph being born in his perpetual winter. He shivered inside.

Back at it again with that seasonal motif !!!! ugh you are killing me.  I also really loved the phrase “knocked on the closed door of his hear.”  You really have such a way with these metaphors and images, it’s so striking and makes the narrative of this piece so brilliant

and silence is a comfortable companion back then. When they became lovers, it was like their platonic third-wheel aside from Naruto.

Ngl I busted out laughing on that one.  “aside from Naruto” hahaaaa I love the way you include him in this fic tbh.  He’s not a very big focus, but he still feels like an integral part of this story, not just as Sasuke’s best friend, but also as another device to unite Sasuke and Sakura.  Also he’s pretty fantastic comic relief, probably just as much for the two of them as for the reader.

I really love the way this convo goes down, and the change of scenery from the coffee shop to the playground.  Considering the way their love at this point is founded in nostalgia (and perhaps something else, but let’s ignore that for a second) it’s so fitting for them to finally stripping away the masks and cloaks and being genuine with one another—Sakura talking about how she knew all along, and Sasuke finally admitting he still loves her.

I also loved that Karin broke off the engagement!!!!!!  And how she did it and how you described it ughghhghg I love this.  You really spoke to her character growth and development in canon too.  It’s trivial compared to everything else that’s going on, but I love it.

…the pink of her hair, the green of her irises and the gold of the sun slowly setting down behind her.

Sasuke couldn’t see her clearly anymore, only the faint glow of her weeping eyes and the halo on her head made by the sun.

You think you’re slick don’t you…you think you’re some kind of mastermind with these subtle references/images…..well guess what bitch….YOU ARE

  I looooove how you tied the music back in.  Ugh this departure!!  MY HEART!!! Also I’m seeing a handful of songs I love including OUR BOIIIII !!!! rex orange county uhhghhgjak maren this is the romance of a lifetime I AM WEAK

Ughh the forehead kiss…..that was so sweet.  I loved Sakura’s choice to give him that bit of affection.  This scene is so beautifully intimate, despite their positions.

Omg I FINISHED HOLY SHIT!!! And Sasuke doesn’t get back with her! Wow!  Honestly, as much as my shipper heart is like, violently frothing at the mouth and saying “okay they totally got back together down the line tho like THEY HAD TO THEY ARE MADE FOR EACH OTHER WHAT IS TH—" I actually have such a deep appreciation for this ending.  Their relationship in this almost feels dream-like, and with the way the story unfolds, even if they still loved each other in the end (and I really don’t doubt that they do.  We don’t have Sakura’s perspective, but we also don’t need it.  the affections are clear) it doesn’t mean they will end up together or are even really suited for each other in such a way.  

Their love in this actually really reminds me of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  Have you seen that movie?  I just really get that vibe at the end.  This entire romance cuts very deep and is very passionate and leaves me feeling so whimsical.  I really loved this story, Maren…  thank you for sharing it with all of us.  thank you for writing it.  You’re really one of a kind and you and this story has my whole heart <333

Also I’m sorry this is so late, but when I said I am going to write you a review, what I meant was I am going to write you a review.  This English degree is good for nothing but sending elaborate love letters to friends and writers in the form of literary analyses and stupid overreactions and BY GOD I WILL NOT LET THIS CRIPPLING COLLEGE DEBT GO TO WASTE !!!

#sasusaku #ss fanfiction #ik its been like a year im sorry #but ily and ur my fav 5evr pls marry me maren my love

[seunghunn]

bias tag!!

i was tagged by a bunch of lovely angels 👼: @kimseunghoney, @byounggonsgf, and @speckofglitter 💞 thank u for tagging me!! this tag game is sooo cute ahhh!! 🤧💞💗💓

who is your bias?

kim seunghun!! my sunshine!! my giant puppy!!

what made you notice him?

i first came across seunghun (and the silverboys) during the jyp vs yg skz episode!! the first clip i saw was of the yg trainee’s cover of ‘why so lonely’ bc i love that song!! ofc yedam’s intro had me hooked because why would he not?? he’s god yedam! bUT THEN the bass dropped and suddenly my ears were blessed by seunghun’s beautiful??? his voice is just packed with so much emotion!! so much power!! yet so effortless!! and his gaze killed me man 😪 this boy is the epitome of charisma and talent, just as christina said 😭 and also, when he smiled after getting complemented by JYP my heart was fluttering and i was smiling with him because he’s jUST SO CUTE :’-))) omg don’t even get me started on his grey hair now fast forward a year later when the ygtb teasers get released and i come across some dude named kim seunghun’s intro video. i was like ‘hey, this guy is pretty cute! i think he’ll be my bias’ not recognizing him at first and then i remember at like 1am one night it finally hit me that he was the same boy that stole my heart during the skz episode! i was so happy to see him again 😭💞

what is your favorite thing about them?

thing? as in singular??? but i have sooo many things that i love about seunghun!! first of all, he is insanely talented. his voice is just so attractive and makes me feel some type of way whenever he performs and he can belt out high notes like nobody’s business omg. i also adore how big of a heart seunghun has. he is possibly the sweetest, most caring and considerate person i’ve ever encountered! like have u seen how much he takes care of the younger ygtb trainees?? or how he always avoided competing against his fellow silverboys and repeatedly said in his live that he loves and misses them a lot?? kim seunghun has the BIGGEST HEART and no one can convince me otherwise 🤧 oh and how can i forget his smile??? the way his lips curl up into the brightest smile is just so powerful! it’s so powerful that it can light up the whole freaking world!! clear my skin!! give me good grades!! kim seunghun can do it all 🤧

who would initate skinship more?

i think seunghun would initiate skinship more! i’m a bit too self-conscious to initiate romantic-type skinship but i would definitely be the one to lock my arms with his while we’re on a casual walk and rest my head on his shoulder when sitting next to him (zeen mentioned the latter to me before and it made me so UWU cuz it’s so trueee). however, seunghun seems like he would do most of the initiating of skinship!! i feel like he gives the best hugs in the world, making you feel comfortable and at ease. also, i can imagine him as someone that loves to hold hands!! he would just do these things whenever he feels like it, which would probs be 24/7 😭

who would hog the blankets more?

i sleep with sooo many blankets omg so i would certainly be the one to hog them. i’m sorry seunghun i love being warm and wrapped up too much to share! (but i mean we could also stay warm by cuddling u know)

who would be more clingy?

listen,, christina and i talk abt this a lot... it would definitely be seunghun!! he is such a loving boy that he would always want to have you at his side! omg i can definitely imagine him wanting to facetime you A LOT! like if he’s out and sees something that reminds him of you (even in the slightest), the would immediately whip out his phone and call you so that he can show it to you and so that he can see your face. but him and i have that same sense of clingy humor so we would both be good at that (like seunghun’s comments on gon and noa’s insta live when he was being ignored sdjdkskdj)

who would say i love you first?

i’m always saying ‘ily’ in a platonic way, but i would be too anxious to say i love you in a romantic sense, so i would have to say that seunghun would be the first to serious say ‘i love you’! this boy loves to talk so i can’t imagine him NOT confessing his love for you. tbh, i feel like he would say it when you least expect it! like i can see him suddenly dropping an ‘i love you’ while nervously rambling about a ton of things or on a day in, he would break the comfortable silence by saying it out of the blue.

who would be more easily flustered?

hi, hello... that would be me. i get taken aback super easily and um hello? we’re taking about the kim seunghun here! he’s so handsome yet so cute that he would always end up doing something that would catch me off guard and make my heart go weak

what cuddling position would you two have?

like many other ppl said, it would be resting my head against his chest as he holds me 

which color reminds you of them?

100% neutral tones!!!! they just compliment him so well and also it’s like the color of honey hehe

which season would you like to spend with them?

i wanna spend all year with seunghun, but i would love to spend the fall with him! it’s like the best weather to go for walks through the city and i could show him around take some aesthetic pics for him hehe. and also it would be so nice to take a stroll through the park with him, holding hands, and looking at how pretty the leaves are as they change color *sigh* since it’s beginning to get cold,  i can guarantee you that he would not go out the house with you until you layer and put on a scarf. oh and it would be like the perfect weather to cuddle at night to watch a movie!!

who would bake the cookies and who would steal the batter?

seunghun would bake because i am scared of getting burned but also i feel like he would be the type that is pretty good at cooking and would want to treat you to a nice treat! and i would steal some batter because i love cookie dough hehe

iM SORRY THAT THIS IS SO LONG!! writing this made me soft for seunghun all over again and i ended up having so many lil imagines as my answers lmao but it was so much fun!! so now i wanna tag some cuties so that they can gush about their bias too ^-^ : @hyunsukmyass, @hunscafes, @koala-junkyu, @byng0n, @yoonbins, and @hyunsukies (sorry if i tagged u and u already did this! i’m v late oof)

#literally the whole time i kept thinking about how cute seunghun was during his insta live and i wanted to cri bc he would be the cutest bf! #also i loved this tag sm bc it made me put down my love for hun into words and it's so softtt #i saw that zeen and christina tagged me when i was on my way home and I JUST COULD NOT STOP SMILING thinking abt what i would write #but it took me a while to write everything out so i’m v late w this tag 😓 #tag games #maddi.txt

[dan-geki]

Tag Game!

Was tagged by @kannra21 to do this and it seemed fun :0 didn’t want to make it too long with the reblogs 

Nickname: Dan! My real name annoys me and I want to change it so I’m working on introducing myself as Dan more. ‘ 3′)b

Biggest pet peeve: Insensitive selfish people who think they can get away with saying anything at the expense of others.

Zodiac: Cancer and in the Chinese zodiac I’m a snake (DANGER NOODLE)

Height: 5′8 (My family thinks I’m tall but my friends are taller oops)

Last Movie: Grave of the Fireflies and Mary and The Witch’s Flower

Last thing I googled: “Can you keep an octopus as a pet?” (Me and a few friends got curious in Aquatics class LMAO)

Favourite Musician[s]: Lady Gaga, Pink, Mystery Skulls, UVERworld (I don’t know I just listen to whatever is good to be honest?)

Song stuck in my head: THE BLOODY INTRO SONG FOR YAKUSOKU NO NEVERLAND BECAUSE UVERWORLD DID IT AND ITS A BOP

Other blogs: Just me practicing art in my art blog! @dan-geki-ko

Do I get asks: Probably not I’m not sure what people would even ask me though? :o 

Amount of sleep: N o t  e n o u g h I hate going to bed early but also hate waking up

Lucky numbers: 1287! I often use it as passwords and such since my mother uses the numbers too

What I’m wearing: An angry birds shirt because its comfortable hi yes im a hobo please dont judge and pajama pants bc it cold

Dream job: I want to become a veterinarian! I was raised around animals since I was little and I enjoy being around them. When I was told I should pick a career and that it should be something you enjoy I decided that being around animals would be great! Animals live in our world too and I think we should take care of them.

Dream trip: I’ve always wanted to see actual fluffy snow and play around in it 

Favourite food: Love me some lasaga and lo mein

Instrument: No good with instruments sorry but I do appreciate listening to things like piano and etc!

Languages: English and terrible spanish (hi im a disgrace to my race lol)

Songs: Dream by Mili (The song makes me space out)

Describe yourself with aesthetic things: Sugar, Spice, everything twice! Staring outside the window imagining a world full of magic. (Can’t think of any aesthetic things ahh)

Tagging: Y’all don’t have to do it I just like tagging you so you dont forget ily! <3  @cupcakestreets @bexchexer @yuri-egin-123 @diditonceinadream@supernovatype2 @teacup-neko

[stan-and-the-newbie]

A kpop newbie’s reaction to LOONA

you know i had to do it to ‘em

Alexa: bold

Alex: italic

okay so today you're reacting to Loona!

o, noice

they just debuted like two days ago and everyone is crying

damn. ok but do any of them speak english <<

y es

n  u  t

i believe i already told you, they built this Loonaverse, and released a girl each month

yeh, you told me a few things

right. all of them have an animal and a color. the first five girls have an additional location, then the next three girls have a superpower, and the last four girls have a fruit

...alexa. t-twelve

yeah

<-<

>->

alright fam hit me up

okay, the first girl that was released, back in 2016, is heejin

damn she looks like a disney princess

she does;;

this is aN INSULT

isnT IT

someone arrest her, she's not allowed to be so cute. it is illegal.

how old is she and what does she do

uhh she's 21and she's a singer

she iS BORN IN 2000

... ALEXA WE'RE MOVING TO KOREA PACK YOUR SHIT

ill give you her music video now

alright

the location is hard to guess, so just try to guess her color and animal

hmm

*ViViD*

i'm not watching this u freak, you know about my arachnophobia

y tho. there are no spiders

THERE IS ONE IN THE THUMBNAIL, BIG AND RED

there are no spiders, so play the song, its good. no girl has the spider as her animal u coward

the song's aight. i'd listen to it in a cafe. her animal is obviously a bunny and her color is either red or white. asian girls with thick thighs are too powerful alexa. someone needs to do something about them. it's a health hazard.

omf. her color is actually hot pink;; but u got her animal right lol

o damn. well pink is the mix between red and white isn't it >>

ooOOO

pFFF

she's part of the first subunit, 1/3

ah, so she's a colonel

omG. i mean, y'know, subunits are some of the members that form like a band of their own and put out music

with 12 bloody members, i can imagine

loona has three. anyway, a few things about heejin

hit me

she’s a whole cutie

o gee i couldn't notice

sdfdsdf she likes dad jokes and randomly breaks into silly and awkward dances but she doesn't care. she's also afraid of pigeons 

the guards would have to restrain me from pinching her cheeks if i was ever in the same room with her. and to be fair those things are chaotic evil. one literally flew into my face once.

omf

they also carry diseases similarly to rats. except they fly. so yeah, i can see why one would be afraid.

she also named a rabbit from the set "heekki". hee from her name, and kki from the korean word for rabbit, tokki. and proceeded to ask if she could adopt it.

that's adorable go away i am stone cold

is there anything else u want to know about her. her location is paris, and the first ever video of her beside her mv was her repeating random french phrases she knew in the airport

pfffF.

the next member is hyunjin

they’re all so pretty i cry

they are :(

they are like porcelain dolls, but without the creepiness of a doll, just the beauty and cuteness

i KNOW. so, how old is she

hmm 20 and she's a rapper

she is ALSO born in 2000 ;D and she's a singer

i-

here's her music video

after mark's video on that cat game, the thumbnail horrifies me

o-oh

alight so her animal is a kitteh. so she's the neko of the group, noice... is this a thriller film, geez.

ghjkjhghjk its just a kitten smh

an e v i l kitten

cats cant be evil. her song is very kdrama-ish

her color is... i honestly have no idea

her color appears in the first third of the video

green? blue?

she wears it

lemon

yeh, yellow. and yes her animal is cat lol. what about the song? it’s a drastic change from the last one

ok that last part horrified me. idk it's a weird mix between depression and a drug trip

so, about this baby. her location is tokyo, and she is the savage one

o-oh

shes the one that kept a blank face on a rollercoaster while the others were screaming. also, she really likes bread and croissants

and she's not a rapper smh. well, she does have a pretty voice.

she does~ and shes really sporty, practiced a lot of sports before becoming an idol

alright, off to my wife. this is haseul.

and no photo makes her justice

i-

UGH queen

that jawline fam

i’m sorry i just. literally have never seen such a beautiful woman

alright by now i'm about 70% convinced that these people are created in underground governmental labs

m e. aight, how old is she

fucc it, she's uhh 18

she's actually born in 1997 dfgfdsdfgh

OF COURSE. sigh. that's just my luck

but i understand u

they all look between 15 and 20 anyway does it really matter- i- she's more pretty than she is cute. respecc.

this is her music video

her color is bleagh. i mean bleuugh. blue

omf

she's a parappa the rapper. but she's also a singer. idk her voice sounds like she can rap. was that plane just there and they used it or did they buy a gigantic plane prop for the video

(i really hoped alex would say this because this video exists)

i-

she’S TRYING. her color is green but her location is iceland so liek,,, i guess the writers clashed ideas

blasphemy. they should have went for turquoise

her animal is a dove. she’s also the leader of the group, and the mom friend #1. she can speak english but she has a cute accent which i Love

awh

aaaand she’s a seal enthusiast

o. that's something

they went to iceland so she was like "omg a seal!!! hi !! that was a seal!!"

pffa whole cutie

she is :( she’s also really funny

anyway, the next one makes me feel worthless. this is yeojin

another flawless creation of the secret korean labs

her age?

that tissue-printing chamber in that korean lab from avengers 2? not fiction - they use it to create idols. uhh 19

:D she is 15!!!1

...

and turns 16 in november !!

Goodbye. Tty later, i gotta pack my stuff

dfgfdGHJH here is her song. its very cute because, well, shes a child

L O L I C O N    A L E R T. those three dudes are terrifying. is that the joker wearing a frog head

mmmmaybeh

this is weird lmfao. aaand there's the foot fetish

you’RE HORRIBLE

why is the frog dude going all roaring reeo on her only to give her a fucking present

well, its a song about how she doesn’t want the relationship to move too fast, so she doesn’t want to kiss the dude just yet

that ending was just... idk man. this one broke me. her color is red, and her animal is a frog because that's the only animal in the foreground here idfk

her color is orange, close enough. the other members call her "bean" because shes the youngest and rlly smol and chubby.

awh ;;

and everyone treats her like a baby lmao

well, what did u expect. hmm i think i like the first one the best so far

o, alright

so, these past four girls and the fifth one form the subunit 1/3. the fifth one was introduced through the subunit's first song, but i'll give u their second song cuz its Better

*check out “Sonatine it’s superior*

basically, these girls have a very dreamy concept with a lot of piano and strings. the fifth girl is the pink haired one, and baby yeojin isn’t here cuz her grades were dropping lmao

i-

shhhh just listen to the song

this song gives me the sad

u gotta appreciate the animu songs

i do, i was literally gonna say that this one somewhat reminds me of miia's second song

same !!

her color is W H I T E like my teeth. p u r e  w h i t e

she haS HER OWN mv

o

the fifth member is vivi

shes chinese and the oldest

from communism to idolization. noice

i-

so she's wot, 21? 22?

yeh, shes turning 22 this year

noice

here’s her song

a break from the animu songs. ps: they dont come back

sad. kinda stalkerish fam

ikr. shes a hooman here. but in the subunit mvs she’s an android

what

idk fam they go all out and no one knows whats happening

i am gonna get bashed for this but when she smiles her cheeks look kinda weird she kinda looks like a chipmunk? but not in a bad way

ghjkHJ she does;; shes cute though

yeah

her color is her haircolor lawl. pastel rose

o, nice

and her animal is deer

so she's basically bambi gotcha

she speaks english, and shes the reaction memes queen. and shes also very smol

awh ;;

alright, we're done with 1/3. is heejin still your favourite?

yepp

cuz we're entering girl crush land

o h

the sixth member is kim lip

LISTEN YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO DO THIS

she’s cute tho

of course she is. they're all cute perfect goddesses. i'm noticing a pATTERN HERE

hey, shes mostly a tsundere

well, ngl, she looks like one

sdfgfds

she chose charmander tho 10/10

here’s her amazing mv. her animal appears for 1 second here so lmao good luck. her color is very obvious

white, at long last

the other one

FUCK

SDFGFDSD

red?

yes

that building is aesthetic would hang out there with my weird friends 10/10. the song is odd, but it's nice

i think the song really suits her voice

it does! that's why it works

her animal is an owl

n o i c e

also in one of her vlogs all she does is talk about food. she also keeps the members company while theyre shooting their mvs!! and shes also a reaction meme queen. she sings, but her main strength is dancing

yeah, i can tell

oh right !! she is in the odd eye circle subunit, and these girls have super powers. imma tell you now, the odd eye circle members are in different planes. like, theyre in different dimensions, not the flying planes lol

umm alright..?

anyway, her super power is speed. aaaand i think thats it with kim lip

the next one is a fan favourite. jinsoul

oof. idk man the blond is weird

oh, is it. i dunno, i feel like it suits her.

hammers in that "created in an underground lab to be flawless" vibe. idk, maybe a darker shade? like a golden blonde?

most people choose her song as their favourite

singing in the rain? is tom holland gonna come in and dance to "umbrella"?

oh my god

if not i'll be disappointed. the song reminds me of minecraft intros lmao. especially that synth part

geT OUT LMAO

the dancing is lewd af tho. so 8/10

well, so was eclipse. girl crush land

is she a necromancer? because those hips kill me and bring me back to life

i knOW. she can sing, rap and dance. triple threat. okay you cant possibly be wrong about her color and animal

uhh blue and fish. idk wot fish but a fish

y e s. its a blue betta fish. she said, and i quote "the blue betta fish is one that needs to be kept alone, because it eats the other fish in her tank. so i'm going to take over the group like that"

i- IS THE ENTIRE SECOND SUBUNIT SASSY

SDFGHGFDSSDFGH shes very oblivious and confused also idk if i should show you this but its hella funny and falls into the dumb blonde stereotype. she acts cute in a live stream and then she just

*that beautiful face plant video*

and at the enD KIM LIP IS LIKE "yes. whats next?" and looks through the comments

i-is she ok

yeah, she just stays there like ten seconds and then lifts her head while laughing. her superpower is teleportation btw. anyway, shes just very oblivious and awkward

nice man

the next member is choerry

oof, she qt. her color is purple.

yes. she doesnt like cherries btw

of course. why doesn't she like them? they're gud ;; maybe they remind her of all the bad puns she must have had to endure

i- most likely tbh. she prefers her actual name too sdfgfdsasdf. but choerry is a play on her name. cho yerim.

ah, i see

here's her song that takes a very weird turn and supports further the girl crush concept lawl

i expect lewd dancing. wot’s her animal?

a bat

e d g y. they made her eat a cherry. the monsters

i know, the madmen

o, here comes the lewd dancing. oof, that was short, but it was cool. back to... this??

it happens more than once. hmm, its a really nice song tbh

yeah, it was pretty nice

shes the bright, positive one

and managed to feed a squirrel out of her hand, so shes a princess confirmed

o damn how tall is she. she looks pretty tall in this pic

oh my god all of them are so small i literally cannot cope

;-; pure babies

hmm i think this is old information but the tallest is 165 sdfsGHJKJHJ

o damn

it says here shes 160. p u r e. her super power is plane travelling, like, shes the only one who can meet both kim lip and jinsoul. thats why i told you about the dimension thing

..alright..? this seems pretty redundant, idk. the whole superpower thing and the different planes thing is just odd. what purpose do they serve

well, its basically a whole universe, i guess it ties to the whole story

there's a story? uhh

yeah, but we won't get into that too much. here's odd eye circle's debut song

oh, this song is... something. i could live without the weird distorted voice. fucc yes more lewd dancing. well, that was trippy.

anyway, the third subunit is called yyxy, and it has "fall from eden" as their concept

o

the first member from this subunit is yves, pronounced as eve but it gotta be fancy y'know

oo, noice. please for the love of god tell me her color is white

no one's color is white

well, it’s not a color ;D

ug h. anyway, here’s her song.

hecc yes more lewd dancing

omf

the song is.. odd. GET OUTTA HERE HER COLOR IS TOTALLY WHITE. EVERYTHING HERE I WHITE. SHE WEARS ALL WHITE.

:( her apple is burgundy

what. is that- is that her color

yeah

...i quit.

fgfdghjkghjGHJ

well, that was something

her name is eve, so people speculate the song and mv are about her living a normal life after falling from eden y'know. anyway, shes the mom friend #2

o, interesting pFF

she was very awkward at the beginning, when she first was introduced

awh ;;

and her animal is a swan

AND HER COLOR ISN'T WHITE GET OUTTA HERE

fgfdsdfg shes also pretty savage now that she isnt as shy, but she takes care of the members, since shes one of the older membersGHJKJHGHJK

wholesome

shes very cute i like her uwu

the next one is an actual animu waifu. her name is chuu

i-

and she is the full of cuteness member

yeah i can teLL. the second image scraped my stone heart

yes, she softens everyone. here’s her mv, and the other girl is yves. and chuu is more or less in love with her. lesbian icon

alexa ur doing the thing, but reverse

SHES LITERALLY STALKING YVES AND GIVING HER AN APPLE AND THE SONG IS ABOUT ROMANTIC LOVE get outta here

ALL OF THESE BANDS ARE BASICALLY FAMILIES YALL SHIPPING THEM IS INCEST

ASDFGFDSDFGHJ but yves just shot a heart at her

it's a music video smh

hey, im not saying shes gay for yves in real life, just in, like, the universe theyre building

ah, i see. the choreography is gud. and the whole music video is nice. and the song is nice too. alright, what's her color

peach

do these people only know red and blue variations. THERE ARE OTHER COLORS OUT THERE

her animal is penguin, hence her posing with a penguin plushie in that photo

awh ;;

and her fruit is strawberry. she also sang a kids show ost before she became an idol :( and the other members make her act cute sometimes in front of the camera because everyone loves her. take dis

:'c

when she does the winking thing she stops and asks "why am i doing this..." and the others are just "because its cutE"

s-STONE COLD I AM S T O N E C O L D

anyway, yes, we all love chuu

we have two members left, keep your head in the game

i'm in it to win it

the second to last member is go won

speaking of winning, apparently she already did

she is a real life doll- oh my god alex

yet another qt what is new. cute dolls. cute talented dolls e v e r y w h e r e

i remember her song just because of the way she sings "baby" there

o

*check out “One&Only” yall*

ah, i see. some nice cinematography here. she has an interesting voice

shes mostly a rapper

yeah, i can picture that. that was a pretty nice song

her color is eden green :3

n o i c e

her animal is butterfly and her fruit is pineapple

but does she like it on pizza tho >> that is the question

she's kinda cold, but shes pretty oblivious, the staff messed with her saying that "adam" is her stage name (adam translates to "small" in korean) and she actually believed them and she didnt get the joke either affdsdfg

;-; god bless

shes pretty savage tho, we have three so far

oof

she is olivia hye

and she does not appreciate olive jokes

she's pretty 0^0

she is~

wot's her personality

shes very blunt and she seems like someone that might succeed at being a famous blogger

o damn

she always speaks her mind. i haven’t really seen her play around, but that doesn’t mean i don’t find her funny sdfgfsdfg

pff the mom friend

hmm, she doesnt really take care of the others, shes the second youngest

o rlly

but she does boast about how shes the only one without a fear of heights jasdfjks

pfff alright, hmu with her song

her song is my favourite

*”Egoist” ftw*

s m o o t h. yeah, this is a nice song

ikr !!

aaand more lewd dancing the world is kind to me today

they never give it up

wot's her color and animal

her color is gray, her animal is wolf and her fruit is plum

o damn

here’s their song~

this is hype af. this song is nice too but it has odd parts

i feel like the quality of their music increased with time. the first songs are also nice but you can tell these ones are better put together

well, it makes sense

it has been two years yes asdfdsdfg

o o f

here's a predebut song. the first ever with all of them, but not their debut the intro and the chorus are the best parts ngl

that's a lot of idols fam

eh, 12 isnt that rare. BRRRRRRRRRAH

where the esketit at. that was a pretty good predebut song, all things considered. they fit a bit of everything in there

yep, here’s their debut song

this one's trippy. ah, that's why it's called "hi high" they're saying hi to me, and i'm high after watching it. UOUOUOUAAAHH

I ONLY LISTEN TO MUSIC WITH MEANINGFUL LYRICS

HLBJLNKBJLNKBKLN

do you remember any of them as your favourite or did everything already vanish

i like chuu and the last one but i think the first is still my fave

oo alright, i see. any last thoughts?

well-managed for a 12 idol group, nice choreographies (& lots of lewd dancing >>), plenty of good songs, gud stuff overall, 10/10. 11/10 for the UOUOUOUOOAAAHHH

noicE

alexa here!! oof, this took so long to put together;; also if haseul sees this please marry me goddess ily

i hope you enjoy this post, even though its a little messy!! pop a little message in our ask box too, it’ll make our day~ i hope everyone has a nice day or evening!!

#loona #heejin #hyunjin #haseul #yeojin #vivi #kim lip #jinsoul #choerry #yves #chuu #go won #olivia hye #1/3 #odd eye circle #yyxy #loona reaction #reaction wednesday #loona introduction #loona 1/3 #loona odd eye circle #loona yyxy #loona heejin #loona hyunjin #loona haseul #loona yeojin #loona vivi #loona kim lip #loona jinsoul #loona choerry

[dodadio-blog]

      was that ong seongwoo? no that was just do daeyul passing by. i hear that they are a twenty-one cismale living in 202 and majoring in film. rumor has it that they are a reincarnation of DIONYSUS and that they are welcoming but also a little chaotic. 

    i think dionysus is a... complex god. and so is daeyul. i’m mean, you may think he is predictable since anything coming from him is expected. and may think that he’s just a crazy& alcoholic&orgy god/dude, but there is a lot more behind. like, they’re deep, you know. yeah. lol. (i’m laughing but i’m serious). okay. i’m ben and i’m 21 and under the cut you’ll find a little about daeyul. u can like this post if u want to plot or just dm me! even if it’s just to talk about tumblr’s black background -- mine is black.

tw: just a TOO long intro. 

when he was a kid people would call him a creative mind. he was and still is, a lot. 

maybe bc as a god his lost his mother, in this life he has a super caring and protective one. and this kind of sucks a lot ‘cause he makes her cry just by acting.... reckless like he simply is. sometimes, by doing (or not doing) things that PEOPLE would interpret as cold ( but lol he is not cold!! let’s go to the next topic )

of course he has feelings, but he doesn’t know how to express it. this is not one of those cases where the kid try to deny it, no. he actually feels a lot, everything... because he is an actor. but here is the thing: daeyul BELIEVES that heart NEEDS mind. you can’t feel if you don’t think. and so he pretty much has a good control of his emotions and when to outer -- but he doesn’t know how to outer when it comes to people he is close with ( did u guys understand ?! damn ) 

but he always knows what to say and what to do when it comes to ‘strangers’. IF he’ll do something is another thing, tho

"lifes is an act” - park jinyoung. also, do daeyul

he is the drama kid, yep. and he is at the drama club, if there is one

money is not a problem, but if people knows that his family has a lot it’s bc rumor has it, cause if you look at him you will never imagine it. he is a simple person...

... that loves to walk with just socks or barefoot. and wears clothing just bc ( or when ) he had to.

he loves himself, he loves you too and if u don’t love yourself he will make u do

he always knew he was different and be called weirdo just didn’t... work with him? he would be like ‘oh fuck yeah! i fucking am!’. he found out about being a reincarnation of dionysus when he was a teen

daeyul has a lot of connection ? with his life-as-a-god and him-as-a-god when he is drunk. which is... quite often. lmao. 

( he had the confirmation about being dionysus’s reincarnation when he was having... sex. you know, dionysus is also the god of religious ecstasy -- which involve faith and altered state of consciousness that heightens “inner consciousness of stillness and peace” and it’s usually accompanied by “visions and emotional and physical euphoria”. yeah, he is that intense. lmao. )

really, he can be pretty intense 

he started to drink early, yep, but this has nothing to do with the fact that he has a HIGH alcohol tolerance. REALLY HIGH. man, i don’t think he's ever completely drunk.

his complexity is often summed up as INSANITY 

always horny. see no problem with taking his pants off  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

always welcoming; always with open arms. don’t you think you are alone  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ﾉ⌒♡*:･。

( loves kaomojis )

OF COURSE HE LOVES WINE too. and can probably name all the wines just by tasting

he do drugs sometimes

will always have his camera ( frequently, on )

believes in and do pretty much everything that makes people sure about his madness

loves to dance and who dances

he models! yeah. 

likes to make ships names ( his with hilmself is doda(yul)dio(nysus) )

obsessed with disney movies and musicals ( future musical’s movies by do daeyul, wait for it )

that one person at a party who no one knows but no one questions. also the one who everybodys knows and is looking foward

king of impromptu parties

knows all animal’s languages ( and so do finding nemo’s dory )

artist: breathe carolina / album: hell is what you make it / track: they say you won’t come back; edge of heaven 

no but he really likes chaos and people dreaming about him

i don’t have cnn page, throw me some.

#godsintro #that gif says a lot #and this is long im sorry

[lusilly]

streets of gotham: secret origins

finally a complete introductory fic for the Streets of Gotham 2 team: Colin Wilkes (Abuse), Ellen Nayar (Ember), Nell Little (Spoiler), Jordan Joyce (Jabberwock), and Niloufar Ghorbani (Seraph). (lucas comes later lmao)

Since Jordan’s got the most complicated backstory, xe has xyr own intro fic you can read here. The SoG2 team is featured heavily in Fiat iusticia and in Wheel in the Sky.

This fic was an exercise in Mark Waid’s advice on how plot is nothing more than setting upon which to hang emotion.........and that was Tough lmao. extremely unsatisfied with the ending. Relies heavily on story from Batman: The Black Mirror. Damian is about 16 here. My fav part of this is damian beating the shit out of a joker stan. Enjoy!

NAME:  Damian Wayne ALIAS:  Robin DATE OF BIRTH:  5 September 1996 (approximate) BLOOD TYPE:  O-  (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT:  BW, DG AFFILIATIONS: Teen Titans, Team Ember EVAL: [File Encrypted] NOTES: |Robin| Eval needs to be de-encrypted. Any information contained therein cannot possibly be worse than not knowing |Nightwing| Yeah thats kind of a dick move B. Lol |Batman| Notes are to be relevant to the file in question not a space for airing personal grievances |Red Hood| Im airing my personal grievances here just to spite you. You suck |Batman| If this continues I will remove editing privileges for all of you |Red Hood| You still suck Editing on NOTES is locked

----

           Damian got up early; patrol had ended before two AM last night, the city quiet and still in the early winter lull. A cold snap had settled across Gotham this past week, creeping in from the bay. Though it did not snow, the clear skies brought the temperature to well below freezing, which led to slow nights on patrol. The heat of summer pushed people outside relentlessly. The cold, on the other hand, made criminals lethargic and cautious, preferring to stay inside with their families.

           So Damian rolled out of bed around nine in the morning, the sunlight shining into his window through blinds he had forgotten to draw last night. The first thing he did was take his phone from its perch on his bedside table and scroll through any new notifications. Both Iris and Lian had texted him. He responded to Iris’s but not Lian’s, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Not ten minutes later he was in the drawing room downstairs, where Titus slept before the great brick fireplace, which was empty.

           Damian patted his dog on the stomach, whistling through his teeth. “Come on,” he said, getting down on his knees and drumming his hands on Titus’s sturdy body. The dog lit up with energy, reaching up to lick Damian’s face, tail wagging furiously as he got to his feet. Damian scratched him behind his ears. “You ready for a run, boy? Come on, let’s get some exercise.”

           Alfred appeared, hot coffee in hand. “Good morning, Damian,” he said. “Taking the dog for a walk?”

           “Yes,” answered Damian, glancing around. “He’s been indoors too much lately because of the cold, he needs to stretch his legs.”

           “You too?”

           Damian offered Alfred a little grin. “Me too,” he agreed. “It’s slow out there.”

           “And here I thought that was a good thing.”

           “It is.” Titus bounded across the room excitedly, chasing his tail, ready for a walk. He started to paw at Damian’s leg, and Damian only held up one hand to indicate Stop. “Down. One moment, alright?” To Alfred, he asked, “Do you know what time my father got home last night?”

           Alfred gave sort of a shrug. “Not long after you.”

           “Oh,” said Damian. “When he wakes up will you tell him I’m heading to school later today? I’ve got an exam at three.”

           Alfred made a face of enthusiastic pride. “Your first university exam,” he said, sounding impressed. “In which subject, may I ask?”

           “Multivariable calculus,” Damian answered, kneeling down to rub Titus’s big head. “It’s simple stuff. A pre-req for applied math.”

           “Not finance?”

           Damian flashed that grin at Alfred once more. “I’m just testing out my options,” he said. “I have time.”

           “Indeed you do,” agreed Alfred, with an approving nod. “In any case, good luck and I shall inform your father as soon as he wakes. Which,” he glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway, and took a disapproving sip of coffee, “should be quite soon. He’s quite worse than you, isn’t he?”u

           Damian opened the French doors to the back garden. With a wave to Alfred, he said, “We’ll be back,” and he whistled for Titus to follow him, then took off jogging past the flowerbeds. Coffee in hand, Alfred watched him go.

           The morning was brisk, but Damian felt warm and alive underneath the early wintertime sun. Taking it slow, he scrolled through his phone, searching for an appropriate playlist, then tucked earbuds into his ears and his the phone itself into a holder at his bicep. Whistling once more at Titus, he took a wide berth around his vegetable garden, knowing that Titus was prone to digging around in it sometimes, upsetting his crops. From there he stayed close to the tree line, heading out across the Manor grounds. The route he liked to take eventually led to a field and a set of rolling hills littered with public paths; he preferred, however, to take a less intuitive path, slightly different every time and designed to get the most out of the slope of the hills.

           Damian took great joy in his morning runs with Titus: it was productive and refreshing and outside, instead of careful training in the facilities under the Manor, which, though state-of-the-art, could feel a little claustrophobic. It was good, he thought, to get out of the house for a little while, out from under his father’s watchful eye. This was the same reason why he’d been spending so much time with the Titans lately.

           Cutting through the edge of the woods, where the trees were sparse, Damian suddenly realized that Titus wasn’t following him anymore. When he glanced around, Titus was nowhere to be seen. He came to a stop and turned around, tugging his earbuds out.

           It was mostly quiet, except for the wind shuddering the tree branches. Damian whistled. “Titus!” There was no response. Muttering an oath under his breath, Damian jogged back down the path he’d just cut. “Titus!” he called again, searching between the trees on either side of him. “Titus, come!”

           His heart jumped as he heard suddenly a piteous whining, as if Titus were afraid of something, cowering in fear; with a little more urgency he headed into the woods, following the source of the sound. “Titus!”

           Off the beaten path, obscured by some low underbrush, the scene Damian found jolted his stomach, making him feel immediately sick before his well-practiced professional instinct took over. “Titus,” he hissed, approaching the dog, who laid whining beside the ugly sight. Grabbing Titus’s collar, he tugged the dog away, retreating to a nearby tree. Titus whined as Damian took out his phone, but Damian just said, “Sit. Titus, sit,” and the dog did so, albeit reluctantly.

           In Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne’s personal cell phone, which sat neatly in a charging device by his bed, started to ring.

           Bruce, raised his head groggily from the mess of sheets and limbs in which he typically slept. Narrowing his eyes at the screen of the phone, which displayed an close-up selfie of Damian’s annoyed face that Dick had assigned to his civilian contact, Bruce started at it for a moment before reaching out and plucking it off the charger.

           “Damian?” he said, masterfully masking his confusion.

           “Father,” replied Damian shortly, heading back to the path by the edge of the woods. “Did I wake you?”

           “I – where are you?”

           “A few miles away from home, almost at Brentwood. I took Titus for a run.”            This was not unusual, but it was unusual for Damian to call home halfway through. Unsure what was happening, Bruce began, “Is…everything all right?”

           “I found a body,” he said bluntly.

           Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

           “Well, Titus found it, really. It was sort of tucked off the main path, we never would’ve seen it had I not decided to loop around past the Kai estate. A boy,” Damian informed his father automatically, pausing to bark, “Titus, come,” before continuing, “maybe my age or slightly older. Wearing a Brentwood uniform.”

           “Signs of assault?”

           “No,” answered Damian. “Dead for a few hours now at the very least, but I can’t determine COD. Suppose we’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report.”

           Sitting up in bed, calm and alert, Bruce began, “All right. Bring anything you’ve gathered back here and we can look into it tonight. Good work so far but for now the best thing to do would be to call the police-”

           Damian interrupted him. “I already did,” he said. “Father, I’m sorry, I think you may be misunderstanding me? I wasn’t actually calling about the body, I’m calling to ask if you can come pick me up.”

           Bruce blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. “Why?”

           “Because I already called the police and they’ll be here any minute, and I’ll have to act all traumatized because of the dead body, and anyway you know I don’t like civilian encounters with police without you.”

           This more or less made sense, but it wasn’t what Bruce had meant. “What do you mean you aren’t calling about the body?”

           “Oh,” said Damian, as if he hadn’t even thought of this. “Well. It’s by Brentwood.”

           Again, Bruce did not immediately understand. “So?”

           Almost apologetically, Damian said, “A five mile radius beyond campus limits…isn’t your jurisdiction, Father.”

           It hit Bruce then with the force of a freight train: he, like a goddamn amateur idiot, had ceded actual turf to Damian’s pet side team made up of Gotham natives and sometimes headed by Damian’s closest friend in the city, Colin Wilkes, who boarded at Brentwood Academy on a Wayne Enterprises scholarship. The agreement itself had been a bit of a farce meant to keep the team out of trouble, given the specific area the Batman had permitted the team as their responsibility was located in the richest neighborhood in Bristol County, slightly outside Gotham city limits. He had not imagined that any terrible crime might go down five miles away from a wealthy private school, but in retrospect, of course it would.

           “Damian,” said Bruce matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your loyalty to your friends,” he didn’t want to legitimize it by saying your team, and besides the Titans were more Damian’s team in any case, “but even you need to admit, this is out of their league.”

           “This is one dead body,” answered Damian skeptically. “If that’s out of their league, they shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

           “Well, perhaps that’s a fair point-”

           “No,” said Damian shortly. “It’s not. You wouldn’t have given Ember her uniform if you really believed that.”

           This was true enough, but frankly Bruce thought Ember was the only member of that team capable of joining the fight, and ideally he’d absorb her into the Batfamily at large before she got too committed to her own team. But this was not a conversation he wanted to have over the phone, so he shoved the sheets off the bed and said, “Don’t move for now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

           “Will you hurry, please?” Damian asked, sounding bored and slightly annoyed. “I hate calling the cops.”

           Getting out of bed, Bruce reminded him, “You should be used to it, it’s half of what we do on patrol.”

           “Yes,” muttered Damian, hearing the distant wail of sirens. “But I’m not exactly in uniform at the moment, am I?”

           Feeling a little awkward at the reminder of the constant presence of race in Damian’s life which Bruce could never really fully grasp, Bruce assured his son that he would be there very soon. As soon as he hung up Damian sent him a pin dropped into a map at his location.

           Bruce arrived not long after the police; a detective was talking to Damian, taking down notes. Titus got anxious around people he didn’t know, so Damian had his fingers hooked around his collar, keeping him close. The detective – a rookie who Bruce didn’t recognize on sight – had a few questions for Bruce, then patted Damian’s shoulder reassuringly. Taking Bruce aside, he recommended considering having Damian speak to a professional about the trauma of the sight he’d just witnessed, and Bruce nodded in what he hoped looked like naïve paternal concern.

           Damian coaxed Titus in the backseat of the car, then got in himself. Titus hung his big head in between the two front seats, panting from exertion and excitement.

           On the ride back to the Manor, Damian mercilessly mocked the police. “Now, this is so traumatizing, but you’ve been awfully brave – for Christ’s sake, it’s like none of them have ever seen a dead body before.”

           “Well,” said Bruce fairly, “most sixteen-year-olds haven’t, Damian.”

           “It’s not as if it was violent,” Damian pointed out. “There wasn’t even any blood or anything.”

           “Which is…curious,” said Bruce thoughtfully. “No external evidence of foul play. Suicide?”            Phone in hand, Damian replied, “I already sent photos to Colin, he should be able to identify him and pull his school records. We’ll check for a history of depression or mental illness, but my gut tells me a Brentwood student wouldn’t stagger into the woods to kill himself unless it was going to be uglier than that.”

           Bruce nodded; this made sense. “Could’ve been an accident. Alcohol poisoning, or an overdose.”

           “I’m leaning towards overdose personally,” answered Damian, texting something on his phone. “Colin’s files should have any record of drug activity at the school. I’ll meet up with him and the others tonight and we’ll get started.”

           There was an awkward sort of pause. Bruce began, “You know, if you or the rest of the team ever require any help-”

           As the car came to a stop in the Wayne Manor garage, Damian shook his head, interrupting his father. “You’re micromanaging,” he pointed out. “I told you, they’re never going to get better if you keep stepping in and taking over their investigations.”

           “I understand that,” replied Bruce, turning the car off. “I’m merely remarking upon the fact that they lack experience, and therefore could benefit from guidance.”

           “Namely, me,” said Damian, watching his father. “I’m their guidance.” He waited for a moment, eyes on Bruce, as if expecting confirmation. Little tink-tink-tink sounds came from the car’s engine as it cooled. “Right?”

           Bruce began, “You already have a team-”

           “You have, like, four teams,” Damian countered. “Not to mention whatever secret society you’re funding this week.”

           “A murder is serious business.”

           “You don’t even know if it’s murder yet.”

           “If it were-”

           “-then you still wouldn’t be in any position to take this from them. Just,” Titus stuck his head forward again, whining, and Damian reached out to scratch his face. “Unclench, alright?” Damian asked his father. “I can handle this.”            Bruce didn’t reply to this, so Damian got out of the car and opened the door for Titus, who happily jumped out and followed him back into the house.

           Later that day, Damian drove to Princeton for his first college exam. He finished early, and called Colin on the drive home.

---

NAME:  Colin Wilkes ALIAS:  “Abuse” DATE OF BIRTH:  9 December 1996 BLOOD TYPE: AB+  (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Jane Brown LSW, Caseworker AFFILIATIONS:  Team Ember EVAL: Behavioral history of paranoia and violence in multiple foster homes, though likely a result of instability in childhood rather than pathological root. Experimentation by SCARECROW led to increased physical abilities through transformation which includes augmented strength (no evidence senses are affected) as well as moderate invulnerability. Venom appears to have had long-lasting effects on body chemistry despite its degradation.

Decent field skills complemented by extreme strength. Only cleared for patrol if transformed. hand-to-hand and weapons training negligible. Defense training and development of damage-resistant uniform necessary to compensate for tendency to take fire. Precision training vital for development of fine offensive skills.

NOTES: |Robin| Consistent attitude improvements since enrollment at Brentwood. Some instability with transformations likely due to a mental block, have seen improvement past 2-3 months

---

           “You’ve got to get a permanent HQ,” said Damian, in full Robin uniform, standing before a laptop computer in an empty Brentwood Academy classroom.

           “This is good though,” Colin insisted. “This way we’re close to the action, right?”

           “Well,” Damian replied, trying not to hurt Colin’s feelings. “Yes, though it really isn’t worth the lack of security or tech resources. Batman operates almost solely out of the Cave, and you know that’s a bit removed from the city.”

           Colin said, “I don’t have a house to stick a secret lair underneath, though.”

           “I mean, yes,” Damian admitted, nodding. “But the point stands. Besides, most of your team has trouble getting all the way out here. Spoiler’s bike can only hold two people.”

           “That works fine anyway, Jordan doesn’t need a ride.”

           With a long-suffering inhalation, Damian gently corrected, “Jabberwock, Abuse. Jabberwock. We use codenames in the field.”

           “Oh, yeah,” said Colin, clicking through some files on the computer. “My bad. Anyway.” He gestured towards the screen. “This is what I got so far.”

           “Aren’t we going to wait for the others?”

           “Oh, should we?”

           “Ideally, yes, we should. But if you’ve any sensitive information to share with me first,” he gestured at the screen, “by all means.”

           Colin hesitated for a moment, watching Damian. Then he began, “Well, you know how I was kind of sort of maybe dating Ethan a while ago? So it turns out-”

           “Abuse,” interrupted Damian loudly, holding up a hand. “I don’t mean – I meant sensitive information related to the case. You can call me and update me on your social life any time, so let’s try to avoid it while in uniform, yes?”

           A little hurt, Colin replied, “This is related to the case. The dead kid is Joey Fremont, OK, and his roommate is on the wrestling team with Ethan, and so a while ago Ethan asked me to go to one of the wrestling team parties after the meet, and I didn’t go ‘cause he was being weird cagey about us and I could tell he wanted to go as ‘friends’ and it was annoying because like I asked him out and everything so it’s not like he didn’t actually have like feelings-”

           Softly, Damian reminded him, “The point, please.”

           “OK, OK, so – Ethan heard from Joey’s roommate that he was dealing in some shady shit.”

           A frown creased Damian’s brow. “Define ‘shady shit.’”

           “Dealing,” Colin emphasized, as if that had made it obvious. “Like, drugs.”            This seemed a little far-fetched. “Joseph Fremont, seventeen-year-old trust fund baby, was a drug-dealer?”

           “Yeah. Some shady stuff.”

           There it was again, shady, Colin’s favorite ambiguous descriptor. Damian felt a migraine coming on. “We’re still waiting on the tox report,” Damian told him. “But it’ll be easier if we know what to look for. Do you know what he was dealing?”

           “Drugs,” said Colin.

           “What kind of drugs? Cocaine? Heroin?”

           “What the fuck, you think I know? I didn’t buy any shit from him.”

           This was going to be harder than Damian thought. “Do you know anyone who did buy it?” he asked. “Maybe Ethan, or someone else on the wrestling team?”            Offended, Colin told him, “Bitch, Ethan isn’t a fucking junkie.”

           “Right, since you have impeccable taste in guys.”

           “Wow,” said Colin, even more insulted. “That’s fucking rude.”

           Damian was saved from trying to apologize for his completely correct and true reading of Colin’s limited dating history by a knock on the window. “Cavalry’s here,” he said, heading to open the window.

           Ember and Spoiler slipped into the room. “We weren’t sure if we were supposed to use the door,” Spoiler explained. “We thought there might be cameras and stuff.”

           “Abuse disabled them,” Damian said. “And we’re far enough from the center of campus that security doesn’t patrol here.”

           “Oh, cool,” said Nell. She waved behind Damian. “Hey Colin.”

           Before Damian could correct her, Colin impressed him by chiming in. “Abuse,” he said, grinning at her. “Only codenames.”

           “Oh, shit, sorry!”

           “It’s OK,” murmured Damian, going back to the laptop. “Is Jabberwock coming?”

           “I haven’t heard from her,” answered Ellen, shrugging. “But I imagine if she was, she’d be picking up, um,” she gave a pointed pause, “you-know-who on her way over.”

           “Who?” asked Damian.

           “Voldemort,” said Nell, giggling.

           He looked around at Colin, expecting an answer. Colin made a beckoning gesture with one finger, and Damian went over to him and leaned in. “Niloufar,” he whispered.

           Damian pulled away, frowning. “Niloufar?” he echoed.

           Colin took great pleasure in going, “Shh! Codenames only!”

           “I don’t know who that is,” said Damian honestly. “Do they have a codename?”

           “Not yet,” answered Nell, taking a seat on one of the desks. “She said she liked Angel or something, I think.”

           “No, it wasn’t Angel,” Ellen said thoughtfully. “It was something Muslim I think. I can’t remember right now.”

           Damian hesitated for a moment, then said to Ellen, “Whether or not Jabberwock brings her, can you send me her information later? We’ll do a background check.”

           Ellen watched him for a moment, but beneath the scarlet mask her expression was indecipherable. “I can relay it to Oracle, if that’s what you mean.”

           It wasn’t exactly, but it would do. He nodded. “Now. Let’s get to business. Abuse, would you brief your teammates on the case?”

           Quickly, Colin got back to business. He did a decent job, though Damian interjected a few times with details that seem to have slipped Colin’s mind. Nell, in her caped eggplant-colored Spoiler costume, sat on one of the desks, whereas Ellen, her crimson-and-black uniform, took a seat, leaning forward over the desk thoughtfully. Her body language was tight and measured, inscrutable. When his mind wandered Damian found his gaze occasionally drawn to her, though it wasn’t really in attraction so much as curiosity. He still wondered exactly what she had done to prove herself to his father, who trusted her far beyond any other member of this burgeoning team.

           The specifics of the case were this: Joseph Fremont, seventeen years old, white male, five-foot-eight inches, approximately a hundred and ninety pounds, had according to his roommate never made it back to his bedroom on the night of November the thirtieth, and had the following morning been discovered dead one-point-eight miles away from campus. They were still waiting on the physical evidence, but Robin had called them all together tonight so they could hit the ground running. Colin’s revelation that Joseph Fremont might have been dealing was kind of disappointing to Damian, as it suggested that the kid might’ve just been sampling the product and accidentally overdosed. Not that he wished a murder had occurred or anything, but a good old-fashioned mystery would’ve been perfect training for the young team.

           When Colin told Ellen and Nell about the drugs, sparing them the details about how he knew, Ellen spoke up. “If he was dealing and there were no external signs of a struggle, don’t you think he probably just OD’d?”            “Perhaps,” said Damian, chiming in from his spot in the shadows behind Colin. “But we have to consider all the possibilities.”

           “What if his tox results come back positive for a shitload of heroin?” asked Nell.

           “Then we’ll rule it an overdose,” Damian told her, feeling like he was talking to a bunch of infants, “unless we find evidence that suggests otherwise.”

           “But what if it’s an actual murder but someone just like coerced him into taking a shitload of heroin so he died?”

           “That’s why we look into anyone who might have motive,” said Damian. “Even if this looks cut-and-dried on the surface, if there’s someone who would benefit from Joseph Fremont’s death, then we tug on that string. Tug hard enough, and something always unravels.”

           “The Fremonts are Wall Street money,” Ellen commented offhandedly. “I’m sure a lot of people would have motivation to target their family.”

           “Right,” said Damian. “Ember, you look into potential suspects. Colin, dig into the drug connection. Maybe something went awry with his supplier.”

           Nell asked, “What can I do?”

           “Stay plugged in to our contact in the coroner’s office,” Damian told her. “We need to know what killed Joseph Fremont. Until we have that, there’s only so much we can do.”

           “So you’re saying all we can do now is wait.”

           “No,” said Damian coolly, turning to Ellen. That blank red mask was starting to bother him, making it impossible to read her. “I’m saying you can look into potential suspects so we can get ahead of the game.”

           She watched him for a moment. “So you do think it’s a murder, though?”

           “I think it’s suspicious that our victim wound up two miles away from campus, in the middle of the woods,” Damian told her. “And I find it unlikely that no one knows any specifics about what occurred. Our job is to apply pressure until the cracks become evident, and then plug the leaks when we find them.”

           Ellen ran her hands down her long braid. “I think that’s a mixed metaphor,” she said.

           It wasn’t, though it admittedly was kind of clumsy. He ignored this comment, turning instead to Abuse. “I’ll find somewhere more secure to use as headquarters. In the meantime, collect your research. Remember to keep it all under secure encryption using the tech I gave you.”

           Nell raised her hand. Damian looked at her, then did a double take, then Ellen reached out and pulled her wrist downwards. “You don’t have to raise your hand,” Ellen told her.

           “Oh,” said Nell. “OK, sorry, but sidenote, are we allowed to use the computers you gave us for like, other things?”

           “They’re yours,” said Damian. “Use them for whatever you need. All of your encrypted files go to a drive that Batman and I can access, but other than that you can do what you want with it.”            “OK, cool,” said Nell. “I was just asking because I use it for homework.”

           Colin threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, hanging onto his neck. Poking him in the ribs, he told Nell, “Just ask Robin for another separate homework computer, that’s what I did.”

           Though Nell’s eyes lit up, Ellen spoke before she could. Leaning back in her seat, she said smoothly, “I’m sure Robin doesn’t have the time to play sugar daddy to all of us, Abuse.”

           “No,” agreed Damian. “Fortunately Batman plays the part very well for you, doesn’t he, Ember?”            There was a silence so deep they could hear a pin drop. Damian felt belligerent and annoyed, and didn’t immediately regret the comment. He knew the grants and the scholarships and the job offers that had been extended to Ellen Nayar, and he didn’t think she had any right to sound so dismissive of his family’s generosity.

           Though Damian could not Ellen’s gaze behind her mask, she turned her head away from him first, indicative of breaking first.

           When she and Nell left, Ellen did not say a farewell to Robin.

---

NAME: Danielle Little ALIAS: Spoiler DATE OF BIRTH: 29 June 1997 BLOOD TYPE: O+  (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Rhonda Holmes Little, Mother (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Batgirl (Formerly), Team Ember EVAL: Promising but untrained. Investigative instincts are excellent, but more practice is necessary. Very young and inexperienced, though a strong devotion to local community and neighborhoods is a good foundation for future efforts. Potentially a place for her in the Batman Inc. hierarchy whether as an official agent or otherwise.

NOTES: |Robin| Not ready for patrol |Batgirl| She’s just as ready for patrol as I was when I first started |Red Robin| Yeah cause that turned out so well |Batman| Notes must be relevant to the file in question or I will suspend editing privileges

---

           As dusk arrived the next night, Bruce sat in front of the computer in the Cave as Damian worked on some complex tech designs at the workstation below the computer hub. There was a comfortable quiet apart from the usual whir of machinery and fluttering wings of the bats in the eaves. All at once, the silence was broken by a gentle beeping notification coming from both the computer and Damian’s phone.

           Not a moment later, Damian was skipping the stairs two at a time, practically sprinting to the locker room area where his uniform was kept. “Oracle,” said Bruce, hitting a button on the panel before him, “get Jim on the line.”            Damian emerged, in full uniform except for his mask though his cap was only half fastened and his boots weren’t laced yet, while Bruce was still on the line with Commissioner Gordon. “I’ll look into it personally,” he was saying. “I’ll be in touch.”

           Bruce closed the line and turned around in his seat to look at Damian, who stood there defiantly. He pointed at Bruce with one accusatory finger, then began, “You promised-”

           Stoically, Bruce replied, “This could be very dangerous, Damian, and it would be irresponsible to let a bunch of inexperienced teenagers deal with something of this magnitude.”

           “You promised,” repeated Damian stubbornly. “You told me this would be our jurisdiction, and that you would allow us freedom to pursue this mission on our own time.”

           “Us?” echoed Bruce mildly. “So as soon as the mission interests you, it becomes us rather than them?”

           Rolling his eyes, Damian headed down to the garage below, where his motorcycle was kept. Raising his voice to be heard, he called, “I’m their leader, so-”

           “Ember’s their leader.”

           Damian stopped on the staircase, then went back up so he could look at his father. “I’m their leader,” he said again, offended.

           Bruce shook his head. “This team is designed to be closer to the ground than we are. You don’t have their experience when it comes to the city itself.”

           “I patrol the city every single night,” Damian protested. “I know it just fine.”

           “That may very well be true, but you still don’t have their urban expertise.”

           “Urb-?” Damian broke off suspiciously, watching his father. Then he leaned against the rail of the stairs slightly and asked, “Is this a race thing?”

           Bruce glanced around at him, an eyebrow raised. “A what thing?”

           “Are you being,” he paused, didn’t know what else to call it, so went with, “…racist?”

           “What are you talking about?”

           “Urban is just one of those dog whistle words that means people of color,” explained Damian; he was taking a sociology class at Princeton, and he’d just read a chapter of a book about this. “And since this team is mostly that, you emphasizing that their street smarts and inner city experience feels almost as if…” he trailed off, feeling suddenly uncertain under his father’s gaze. “I’m just saying,” he said, unwilling to admit his doubt. “You may want to…think about the way you talk about them, is all.”

           Bruce watched his son, surprised. Despite the fact that Damian’s words weren’t exactly flattering, he felt an odd stirring of pride. He nodded. “Alright,” he said. “I will.”

           There was an awkward sort of pause, and then Damian headed once more down the stairs. Though it was just barely dark outside, he took his motorcycle to the hidden entrance to the Bunker, where he did some minor rearrangements and set up what basically amounted to parental controls on the computers. Satisfied, he alerted the entire team that they would be meeting beneath Wayne Tower tonight.

           This time, Jordan and Niloufar were there first. “Ms. Ghorbani,” he said, holding out his hand to the girl in the headscarf, “a pleasure to meet you.”

           Niloufar shook his hand warily. “We’ve met before,” she told him shortly. “One time you and Batman saved a school bus I was in from tipping off a bridge.”

           When in uniform, Damian got comments like that all the time. Though a school bus falling off a bridge was far more memorable than most of the everyday encounters he had with citizens of Gotham, it still didn’t ring a bell. “That sounds like us,” he told her, with a killer smile. She just watched him suspiciously.

           Jordan, who had been using her powers of flight constantly since they manifested, floated near the low ceiling of the Bunker. “I don’t like it in here,” she said. “Feels cramped.”

           “It’s merely temporary, Jabberwock,” Damian informed her, heading to the computer. “It’s not an ideal location for your team, but I needed some place with the technical capabilities to fill you in completely on the status of your mission.”

           “Our mission?” Jordan echoed. “You mean the dead kid from Brentwood?”

           Damian nodded, typing something into the computer. “Joseph Fremont.”

           Niloufar asked, “Is this about the results from the tox report?”

           The file on the computer unopened, Damian stopped and turned around to face her. “What do you know about the tox report?” he asked her.

           “I’ve heard things,” she said shortly.

           He eyed her, then began, “How do you-?” but before he could finish, the doors to the garage opened and Ellen arrived with Nell and Colin.

           “Hey,” said Nell breathlessly, her laptop underneath her arm. “I might have to leave early, I have a lot of homework to do.”

           “That’s fine,” Damian said, looking past Niloufar and Jordan at her. “There’ve been some new developments in the case and I just need to make sure we’re all on the same page about it.”

           “Hey,” said Jordan, floating upside-down, her ponytail hanging down from the back of her head, “I have a question.”

           Suppressing a roll of his eyes, Damian looked at her. “Yes?”

           “This kid OD’d, right?”

           “Yes,” repeated Damian, “and I’m about to get into the specifics of what exactly he-”

           “But like. Why should we care about him?”

           The silence that followed this comment deepened considerably, broken only by the hum and whir of the high tech machinery surrounding them. “Jabberwock,” he said, “if you have to ask that question, then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

           Before Damian had even finished this sentence, Jordan was shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I mean like, specifically him. There’s a dozen cases of this same thing every day on my block, and no one’s investigating that shit.”

           Damian explained, “This death occurred in your team’s jurisdiction-” but Ellen interrupted him.

           “She has a point,” she said, glancing at Damian. “It does seem a little biased that we suddenly care about an overdose as soon as it happens to a rich white kid. And I have wondered before why Batman decided we don’t get jurisdiction,” she framed it in air quotes, “over our own neighborhoods, especially because Jordan’s right, this kind of thing happens all the time in the city.”

           “OK,” said Damian, trying very hard to exercise patience, “well. When one of your neighbors overdoses on recreationally-developed Joker Venom, then perhaps we can look into that.”

           A frisson of excitement went through the Bunker, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Joker Venom?” echoed Colin, sounding almost delighted. “Joey got offed by the Joker?”

           “No,” said Ellen, a slight frown on her face. When she watched Damian as intently as she was doing now, he could almost tune out the scar, imagine exactly what she might look like without it. “Robin said – recreationally-developed? You think this kid was using Joker Venom to get high?”

           Damian nodded. “It gets worse.”

           Seated at one of the specimen analysis desks, her laptop computer already open, Nell asked, “How could it get worse than the Joker?”

           Damian pulled something up on the computer screen. “A few years ago – back with the previous Batman – there was a case that involved a drug called diaxamene which was reverse-engineered to attack the part of the brain which controls emotion, blunting the ability to feel empathy.”

           “Turn them into sociopaths,” Jordan said, sounding almost impressed.

           “Psychopaths,” Damian corrected. “But, yes. Essentially.”

           “Diaxamene,” echoed Niloufar, her gaze far away behind her thick glasses. “That sounds familiar. Didn’t it have something to do with a baby formula recall?”

           Clearly surprised that Niloufar knew this, Damian stopped short and looked around at her. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “The perp claimed to have dosed baby formula, though no evidence could confirm this. There was a recall just in case, though, which led to a shortage.”

           “Yeah, I remember,” said Niloufar, nodding. At Damian’s curious look, she finally added, “My younger brother was a baby at the time. I remember formula got really expensive.”

           Without replying to this, Damian nodded, then looked at her for a moment longer.

           Then he returned to the computer screen. “It looks like small amounts of Joker Venom were added to the reverse-engineered diaxamene. Because Joker Venom produces effects similar to psychopathy before resulting in death, diluting it with the diaxamene can reproduce the same feeling while decreasing its lethality.”

           “He still died, though,” Nell pointed out.

           Damian nodded. “It’s called an overdose for a reason, Spoiler.”

           “Oh,” she said. “Right.”

           “The modified diaxamene is a pharmaceutical, though,” said Niloufar, considering this. “It’s supposed to function long-term, not for a temporary high.”

           “Exactly,” said Damian. “For a young person like Joseph Fremont, the mild Joker Venom would have a slight narcotic effect while the diaxamene, if he even knew it was part of the drug, would be – nothing more than a placebo. At first.”

           Ellen nodded. “So what his death tells us,” she began, “is that this drug is on the market. That people are using it, and the more they use it, the more psychopathic they become.”

           “Yes,” said Damian, feeling an odd rush of pride at how quickly the team put this together. “That’s the real problem here. Someone’s pulling the same stunt as the baby formula plan, but aging up their demographic.”

           “Why not cut it with coke?” asked Jordan, seriously. “Or dope or something?”

           “’Cause it’s Joker Venom,” Ellen said, looking over at her as if this were obvious. “It has sex appeal.”

           Nell giggled, and Colin asked, “What about the Joker says sex appeal to you?”

           “Ember’s right,” said Damian, shutting the others up. “How many of you have seen firsthand some result of the Joker’s crimes?”

           Everyone except for Niloufar raised their hand without hesitation, but Niloufar eventually followed suit, making a noncommittal kinda sorta gesture with her hand.

           “Joseph Fremont never lived in the city,” Damian continued. “If you live in the wealthy suburbs your whole life, the Joker is something of a myth, and as a result anything with some proximity to him has a certain thrill to it – like forbidden fruit. It’s the perfect new drug to introduce to a privileged private school like Brentwood.”

           “Plus rich white boys are already a little psychopathic,” Jordan added.

           Damian decided to give her that one. “And that.”

           Despite this, Ellen didn’t seem fully satisfied. “But no one bothers to do a full tox report on a bum who OD’d in an alley in Midtown,” she pointed out. “This drug could be way more rampant than we thought.”

           Considering this, Damian answered, “True, but we haven’t seen the resultant wave of crime or violence you’d expect from that.”            “That’s assuming the drug has been out there for long enough. And Gotham streets are always full of crime and violence. How would you be able to tell the difference?”            He shook his head. “There’s no difference on patrol.”

           “You haven’t been on patrol all that often lately, though,” Colin said fairly, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You’ve been with your other team a lot.”

           Inwardly, Damian cursed Colin’s lack of filter. Ellen’s eyebrow cocked, but it was Nell who asked, “What other team?”

           Jordan grinned at him. “Are you cheating on us, Robin?”

           “It’s the Teen Titans,” he said stoically. “Yes, I am frequently away with them. But Batman and Oracle keep a careful record of nightly criminal activity, which has not shown any major spikes lately.”

           “What’s Superboy like?” asked Jordan, legs crossed, sitting in air. “Just like a mini Superman?”

           Chris was in fact very dissimilar to his adoptive father, so Damian replied, with a hint of annoyance, “No, actually. Now if we can get back to business-”

           “What about Arsenal?” asked Nell, from her computer. “She seems cool.”

           With a knowing grin, Colin added, “Not as cool as Impulse, huh, Robin?”            Damian shot him a dirty look. “Let’s try to focus, shall we?”

           “Ohh,” said Nell, laughing. “Wait, Robin, is she your girlfriend?”

           For fuck’s sake. As he opened his mouth to shut this down for good, Ellen mercifully came to his rescue. “Come on,” she said, sounding sympathetic. “Don’t tease him, Spoiler, that’s mean.”

           Which, naturally, set his blood boiling again. “Ember, please,” he told her. “It’s fine. Now. Back to the case?”

           She gave him a wry, enigmatic smile, but nodded all the same, gesturing for him to continue.

           His face felt warm, and he felt stupid for allowing himself to feel even the slightest bit self-conscious. “Some excellent thinking happened tonight, team, so thank you for that. Now that we all know where we stand, it’s time to get serious about this case.”

           Doubtfully, Colin asked, “We weren’t serious until just now?”

           “I mean we have a lead,” said Damian quickly. “That’s all. Niloufar, Jabberwock, I want you two looking into other recent overdose cases throughout the city, see if we’re missing something.”

           “Seraph,” said Niloufar.

           Damian blinked. “I’m sorry?”

           “Seraph,” repeated Niloufar. “That’s my codename. I mean, it was Hafaza, but then we figured that was a little harder for people to remember and the key to a good codename is its memorability, right? Like, branding.” She paused, a little awkward. “So. Seraph.”

           He watched her for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Seraph, then. Usually the codename is accompanied by a uniform, though.”

           Apologetically, she admitted, “I’m probably not…super useful in the field.” At Damian’s expressions, she explained, “I failed P.E. last year.”

           Damian only had the vaguest notion what P.E. was, but he waved it aside. “Fine,” he said. “If you do need a uniform, Batman and I can help. Abuse,” he said, turning to Colin. “Have you dug up anything else at Brentwood?”

           Colin shook his head. “Not really? I think Joey’s roommate was clean, actually. He wasn’t dealing anything hard, just weed. I lit up with him the other day and he told me everything. He’s kind of fucked up over it actually, it’s kind of sad.”

           “Great,” said Damian. “Generally I would request that you try to avoid partaking in illicit substances, but otherwise, sure.”

           “Robin,” said Jordan, with a grin. “C’mon. It’s just weed.”

           “OK,” said Damian, ignoring this. “Keep pushing, Abuse. If you need backup, call me.”

           “Or me,” offered Niloufar. When Damian glanced at her, she added, “I go to Brentwood too. So I can help with that.”

           This was a relief; Colin was competent enough in the field, but his investigative work was still spotty. Damian had been considering an undercover mission in Brentwood himself to get the intel they needed, but if Niloufar also attended the school then she might be able to bolster Colin’s mission. “Perfect,” he said. “Seraph, you get double duty – work with both Jabberwock and Abuse.”

           Niloufar practically glowed at the extra responsibility.

           “Ember, Spoiler, you’re going to be investigating the Joker connection,” he continued. “Ember, I understand you have some familiarity with Arkham? This is your chance to demonstrate that. Meanwhile, I’ll-”

           Just then, he realized Nell’s hand was up in the air again.

           “Spoiler,” he said tiredly. “I’ve told you this a dozen times, you don’t need to raise your hand to ask permission to speak.”            “Oh,” she said, lowering her arm. “Sorry! I didn’t want to interrupt.”

           “It’s fine,” Damian told her, waving this away. “What is it?”

           “Would it be possible for me to sit this one out? I’m failing geometry.”

           Damian blinked at her. “You’re failing what?” he asked.

           “Geometry,” she repeated. “Tenth grade math.”

           Damian, who had mastered geometry when he was seven, felt suddenly and abruptly out of his depth. “Oh,” he said. “Yes, of course. That’s fine. All of you, never hesitate to tell me if you feel like you’re taking on too much. It’s fine. Civilian responsibilities come first.”

           There was an awkward sort of pause.

           Then he restarted, “Ember, I suppose that means I’ll be with you. We’ll also look at the previous case regarding diaxamene, but I’ll need a few days to round up my resources on that. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.”

           “Fine,” said Ellen. “Anything else you need to update us on?”

           Thoughtfully, Damian looked back at the screen. “No, I don’t think so. We’re dealing with a high tech trafficking ring by the docks again so if any of you find any unfamiliar weaponry or anything let me or Oracle know. Oh,” he said, turning around to face them again. “And I suppose I should warn you about something.”

           They all leaned in a little, as if intrigued by the hint of danger.

           Almost regretfully, Damian informed them all, “Batman is likely going to try and edge in on this case. He takes everything involving the Joker very personally, so I can almost guarantee he’ll try to take over. At the very least he’ll try to insert himself in an observational role.”

           “That’s not so bad,” countered Jordan. “Batman’s welcome to observationally roll me whenever he likes.” Colin laughed, obviously in agreement.

           Damian tried to keep his expression level. “My point is,” he restarted, “this is your mission and you all can take care of it perfectly well without his help. Don’t let him take this one from you.” He paused, looking around at them. “So. We’re all clear?”

           “Super clear,” agreed Colin. “I’m gonna head back to school and get a jump on this.”

           “Hold on,” said Niloufar, her gaze swiveling around towards him. “That’s not fair, I don’t board at school so I won’t be able to help out until tomorrow.”

           “Um, I just said get a jump on it,” Colin pointed out. “I didn’t say I’d solve absolutely everything so you don’t have anything to do.”

           “Abuse is right,” added Damian. “He can probably get a lot more done after hours than you can during classroom time. I’m sure he’ll fill you in on any developments in the morning.”

           Niloufar shot a glare towards Colin, but he shrugged and relented. “Yeah, for sure.”

           “We’ll get started, then,” said Jordan. “If we find anything out we’ll ping you or share it on the vigilante cloud or whatever.”

           “Thank you,” said Damian, as Jordan and Niloufar began to leave. “Good luck.”

           After them Colin headed out to return to Brentwood and Ellen, the only one of the team cleared for patrol on her own, also took off. Damian went over to where Nell still worked on her laptop. “If you need a tutor,” he said, peering over her shoulder, “I’m happy to help.”

           “You kind of already are,” she told him distractedly, focused on her work.

           He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

           Glancing at him, she explained, “I’m going to the Neon Knights center in my neighborhood for tutoring, so it’s cool. I guess I meant your family’s already helping out.”

           Damian stared at her for a moment. Though he knew rationally that the entire team had enough information at this point to deduce Batman’s identity and therefore his own, it was still a new and unfamiliar feeling, like danger. It set him on edge, despite the fact that they never would have let Nell or the others into the game in the first place if they didn’t trust them enough to be discreet.

           “Sure,” he said, straightening up. “Though I shouldn’t have to remind you not to talk like that when we’re in uniform.”

           This seemed to confuse her, as she finally took pause to glance up at him. “But…nobody’s here.”            “I know, but it’s a matter of developing a habit. If the mask is on,” he pointed to his face, “then I’m Robin. Only Robin. Do you understand me?”

           She nodded. “I got you.”

           “Good.” He hesitated, then added, “If you’d like you can stay here to do your work. I can program everything to shut down and lock up after you leave.”            This too drew her gaze away from the computer. She looked at Damian with big eyes, surprised and a little touched. “Wow,” she said. “For real? That would be super great.”

           “OK.” He shrugged, feeling a slight twinge of self-consciousness he normally only felt around Iris. He tried to push that out of his mind. “It’s no problem. And again, let me know if you need help.”

           “Yeah,” she said, beaming at him. “I will.”

---

NAME: Jordan Aguilar Joyce ALIAS: Wonder Girl / Jabberwock DATE OF BIRTH: 17 March 1995 BLOOD TYPE: B+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Maya Aguilar, Sister (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Wonder Woman, Team Ember EVAL: Flight, augmented senses and strength from Themysciran heritage. Will follow-up with Diana. Deeply resistant to authority, but loyal to team. Need to develop discipline before regular patrol is instated.

NOTES: |Robin| Wonder Girl should not be listed as an alias nor WW under affiliation. Jordan has made it clear where she stands where it comes to the Amazons |Black Bat| Shes nice |Red Hood| How come cass doesnt get the Relevent to File in question spiel |Red Robin| Cause shes the favorite |Black Bat| :)

---

           “So Abuse and Seraph managed to get a lead on the Brentwood supplier – turns out a few of the older boys had been recruited by someone called the Dealer.”

           “Not very creative,” replied Ellen through her commlink, peering down at the city from the corner of a tall roof.

           “Yes,” answered Damian, “particularly because we dealt with someone using that name a few years ago, around the same time as the diaxamene case. In fact, the man who reverse-engineered the diaxamene actually bought outdated Joker Venom from the Dealer.”

           “Oh,” said Ellen, a little taken aback. “Then – that should sort of blow the case open, right? It’s the same guy.”

           “Impossible,” said Damian grimly. “The man in question has been locked up in a mental facility for years.”

           “In Arkham?”

           “No. I believe it’s somewhere in Chicago, far away from here. Besides, the version of the Joker Venom found in this new drug isn’t old or decayed at all, it’s very new, something we haven’t quite seen before, impossible to build up a resistance to. Enough of it would probably poison even the Joker himself.”

           “If our guy can reverse-engineer a prescription drug, I’m sure he could figure out how to update Joker Venom. And if he’s not at Arkham why are we even going there in the first place?”

           “Because,” Damian answered shortly, “sometimes you have to play with vermin to sniff out a rat.”            This was cryptic and annoying, and beneath her mask Ellen rolled her eyes. “OK. I can meet you there in an hour if-”

           “No need,” he said, just as the sleek and quiet hum of an energy-efficient stealth motorcycle came buzzing down the alley beneath the building on which Ellen stood. Robin stopped the bike, got off, and waved at her.

           She let out a sigh, then made her way down on the fire escape, jumping the last few feet. “How did you know where I was?” she asked, as he got back onto the motorcycle.

           “The tracer Batman put in your suit,” he answered; when she gave him a look, refusing to get on the bike with him, he grinned a little and added, “I’m kidding. But only a little. When you’re on a direct line, Oracle can pinpoint your location. If you toggled a private line or turned off your commlink, we’d lose you.”

           “Wouldn’t want that,” muttered Ellen, finally relenting and climbing onto the back of the motorcycle, behind him. She sat further back than was entirely necessary.

           They went most of the way in relative silence. They’d worked enough together – Damian had spent enough time training with her – that it wasn’t particularly awkward, but there was an odd degree of discomfort that neither of them were used to. When they made it to Arkham, stowing the bike in the woods behind it, Damian asked, “That reminds me, when are you going to get a motorbike of your own? You can’t rely on rides from Spoiler and Abuse and me forever.”

           “I don’t have my license,” she explained. She wanted to add, And I can’t afford one, but she knew that he would offer and insist and that would be unfortunate.

           “Oh,” said Damian, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. “Well. You don’t really need one, in our line of work.”            “Thanks,” she said, though her smile was not visible beneath her mask. “But I’m already toeing the line as is. I’d prefer to break as few laws as possible.”

           “She says,” he added, grinning slightly as they headed towards Gotham, “as we break into a private mental facility in order to interrogate a patient.”

           “He’s a criminal,” she replied smoothly. “Not a patient.”

           Damian shrugged. “They all are.”

           This wasn’t true, and Ellen wanted to fight him on it, but this wasn’t the time or the place. With the help of Robin’s gadgets and expertise, making it into Arkham was easier than it had ever been for Ellen – he did it with such nonchalance and finesse that it seemed positively casual for him. That sort of annoyed her.

           They made it to the Wayne Ward, which is where the most dangerous criminals were held, cut off from the rest of the world by thick steel doors. Somewhere in one of the cages, someone sang a children’s song. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hopping through the forest…”

           Another inmate moaned, “Shut the fuck up.”

           Damian brought her to an unmarked cell that looked no different from any of the others, and put his hand on the door, behind which the Joker still sang. “Scooping up the field mice and boppin’ them on the head…”

           Quietly, he asked, “You ready?”            She nodded, but didn’t speak. Looking away from her, he punched a series of numbers into the keypad by the door, and it slid open.

           He gestured for her to enter, and she did. He followed behind her, and the steel door clanged behind them.

           A pale man in an Arkham uniform sat cross-legged facing the wall across from them. “Down came the good fairy, and she said…”

           “Joker,” said Damian.

           The Joker’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his dirty green hair hanging down from his scalp. He did not look around.

           “Ah,” he began, his voice sickly sweet. “It’s my second-favorite little birdie. You’d be third favorite,” he said, almost reasonably, “but the dead one came back, and that’s no fun.”

           “Joker,” repeated Damian. “What do you know about a new version of your Venom?”

           Though he still did not turn around, the Joker made an unpleasant sound in the back of his throat, as if displeased. “None of that faker stuff. I’m no street corner dealer, little Robbie! I only have big plans, big shows, big-” he threw out both arms theatrically; in his left, he held a crowbar stained with blood, “-drama.”

           Without hesitating, Damian moved forward and grabbed hold of the crowbar, kicking in the Joker’s elbow as he did so. As Damian inspected it, the Joker started to laugh, then collapsed and rolled around on the floor so he was facing the door.

           “Where’d you get this?” asked Damian stoically, raising the crowbar.

           “Beirut,” answered the Joker.

           Damian shook the crowbar. “Whose blood is this?”

           “Yours,” answered the Joker. “Robin’s. Doesn’t matter which one, best not to get attached,” he looked past Damian, as if addressed Ellen directly, “they’re just gonna break your heart and move on. They always do.”

           Uncertainly, Ellen glanced at Damian, who only stared at the Joker.

           He raised the crowbar, and hit the Joker across the face with it. Again, the Joker laughed. “What do you mean that fake stuff?” asked Damian. “So you know someone’s dealing.”

           “Everyone’s always dealing,” Joker answered, with a shrug. “You know, dealing, coping, the human condition.”            “How do you know about the drugs?”

           The Joker lunged suddenly, throwing himself at Damian, grabbing hold of the crowbar tightly. Ellen instinctively moved to help, but Damian dodged, gripping the crowbar tightly and wrenching him away so that the Joker lost his balance and fell, half laying on the ground, still clutching the crowbar. He laughed and laughed.

           “The drugs?” he screeched, ecstatic. “You mean the Xanax? Oh, no, you mean the painkillers? Or are you talking about the meth, because that was what really made her spiral, huh? Just took a little while to get there, step by prescription step, and then all of the sudden bam!” His laughter turned higher, more frantic. He held up one hand in the gesture of a gun and pointed it right at Ellen’s face. “Right in the kisser!”

           Horrified, Ellen stared at him, frozen. It took Damian a moment to realize what was going on, and then he kicked the Joker square in the chest, sending him reeling back to the floor. “I miss Divya!” he called, as Damian, turned around returned to the door, taking Ellen’s wrist in his hand as he did so. “She was so much fun! Good stories! She missed you bad you know, she missed her beautiful son, her beautiful little-”

           A name came out of Joker’s mouth that Damian didn’t know, but he could guess what it was. “Come on,” he murmured to Ellen, who said nothing, her face obscured and made unreadable by her mask. As the Joker laughed and laughed and laughed, Damian led Ellen out of the Joker’s cell, ensured the door was closed tight, and they retreated out of Arkham. After a while Ellen pulled her hand away from Damian’s. He said nothing until they were outside.

           In the darkness, he turned to her heavily.

           “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought you in there.”

           “No,” said Ellen, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I had to meet him eventually.”

           “I don’t know how he knew that about you.”

           “It’s fine,” repeated Ellen, with a little more urgency. She tried to smile at him from underneath the mask, but obviously he couldn’t see it.

           Damian watched her cautiously for a moment longer, then suddenly jerked his head around, obviously hearing something at his commlink. Then his gaze lengthened past Ellen, behind her, and under his breath he muttered, “For fuck’s sake-”

           Despite the fact that Batman, from behind Ellen, should not have been able to hear this, he growled, “Language, Robin,” and Damian resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

           Ellen turned around uncertainly; she had only very infrequently been in the presence of both Batman and Robin, and didn’t really have the hang of their dynamic yet.

           Batman stood impassively before them both, watching them. “Are you here to talk to the Joker?” he asked, as if reserving judgment.

           “We already did,” Damian told him. “He didn’t have anything useful to say.”

           Thinking this was underselling the encounter a little, Ellen added, “He seemed to know a version of his Venom was being used on the streets,” Damian gave her an urgent look, like betrayal, so she continued, “but Robin’s right. He didn’t sound like he was involved in or even really approved of its production.”

           Batman gestured at the crowbar in Damian’s hand. “What’s that?”

           “A crowbar,” answered Damian.

           Batman only watched him.

           Damian held it up. “A man known as the Dealer tried to auction off an item just like this a few years ago,” he said, almost defiantly. “Nightwing brought it home, but he never entered it into evidence. He just got rid of it.”

           “Why?” asked Batman.

           “So you wouldn’t find out,” said Damian, “for obvious reasons.”

           Ellen wasn’t sure what that obvious reason was, but she just glanced in between Robin and Batman, sensing the tension there.

           Stubbornly, Damian continued, “The Joker was a red herring last time and I believe it’s the same thing this time around. We should be focusing our efforts elsewhere.”

           “Hn.” Batman headed past them, towards Arkham. “I’ll talk to the Joker.”

           As Batman passed, Robin reached out and physically took hold of his arm. “No,” he said. “You won’t.”

           Batman twisted around to look back at Damian, and there was a moment of deadly, pin-drop silence.

           “It’s my case,” insisted Damian.

           Batman glanced up at Ellen. “It’s her case.”

           Beneath her mask, Ellen’s eyebrows shot up. Reluctantly, Damian let go of Batman and turned to her. “Fine,” he said. “Ember. What do you think? Do you want a second opinion on the Joker, or do you think we should be able to proceed on our own from here?”

           There was no expression on Batman’s face, but then again Ellen didn’t think there was ever really any discernible expression on Batman’s face. Once more she glanced in between Batman and Robin, before finally admitting, “I…think we should be OK.” To Batman, she said, “I’ve studied your case files and I don’t really think this fits the Joker’s M.O. Right now selling drugs to rich kids sounds a lot more like this Dealer character, or maybe, um, what’s his face, that guy who poisoned the diaxamene.”

           Damian winced slightly when she said this and she suddenly feared she’d said too much; maybe there was something he’d been trying to keep from Batman. Though she didn’t really think that was all that smart – Robin’s pride be damned, this was about solving the case, not who got the glory of figuring it out.

           Batman watched her for a moment, then nodded. “I expect a mission report,” he said.

           “Of course,” responded Damian sourly.

           Without looking around, Batman added, “I meant from Ember.”

           Damian looked almost ready to blow a gasket, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded. Batman lingered for a moment longer, then swept away.

           There was an awkward sort of pause. Damian turned and headed back to where the motorcycle was stowed in the woods. “C’mon,” he said.

           She followed him, secretly a little pleased at this indication of Batman’s trust but also not wanting to push Damian at all. It was a weird place to be, staying quiet for fear of hurting Robin’s feelings – but then again, he was only a kid, at least a couple years younger than her. There was no need to be cruel.

           A minute or so after he revved the bike and they started heading back towards the city, he asked, “Are you hungry?”            His words came through clearly on her commlink, and yet she was still certain she had misheard. “Um. Sure?”

           “I know a place,” he continued, taking a sharp left. “Up by Amusement Mile.”

           Amusement Mile meant carnival food of some sort probably, which was fine by Ellen. Late at night as it was, the boardwalk was still all lit up neon, but Damian avoided that, heading instead for the less touristy area. There was a little shop – not much more than a booth – where he ordered falafel. Ellen got a kabob. The woman working there spoke warmly with Damian in a language Ellen didn’t know, but eventually she picked up that the woman was refusing to accept payment when Damian tried to pass it over the counter to her. He just grinned and stuffed a twenty dollar bill into the tip jar, and the woman laughed.

           They sat together on the rail of the pier, which was already closed for the night. She lifted her mask to eat, then took it off completely, leaving only a domino mask around her eyes.

           “Hey,” she said, nudging him a little. “Are you OK?”

           He looked around at her, confused. “What? Why?”

           “Your dad was kind of harsh on you. He didn’t really need to be, I know you have more experience at this than I do.”            For a moment he said nothing, just watching her. Then he looked back down at his falafel wrap. “You shouldn’t refer to him as my father when we’re in the field,” he said. “Things like that are supposed to stay in a civilian context only.”

           “Mmm, be careful about that. Everybody knows Robin is either Batman’s son or something a whole lot less wholesome, so I really think you should take what you can get.”

           She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back, only looked at his wrap unhappily.

           When he didn’t reply, she too looked down at her food, picking at it. She hadn’t been that hungry, but would’ve felt stupid turning down free food.

           Softly, she asked, “How do you think he knew all that about me?”

           Damian glanced at her. “Who?” he asked. “The Joker?” She nodded, and he considered this for a moment. “He knows everything about everyone. Don’t take it personally. He knows how to get under everyone’s skin, we’ve all been there.”

           “He knew my…” she trailed off. “He knew my mother’s name.”            He gave a shrug. “She was in Arkham, right?”

           “Yeah, but – not in the Wayne Ward. Not with him.”

           “No?” asked Damian, with mild interest. “What was she in for, then?”

           Glowering, Ellen muttered, “As if Batman doesn’t have a file with all the sordid details.”

           “He doesn’t,” answered Damian. “Or at least not one I have access to.”

           For a while, so long that Damian didn’t think she was going to answer, Ellen said nothing. Then, her eyes fixed out across the black water of the ocean, waves lit by moonlight, she said, “She…was transferred. For the Wayne Enterprises drug rehabilitation program.”

           “Ah,” said Damian, nodding. “Yes. I understand that whole project was – a massive PR disaster.”

           “You could call it that,” Ellen agreed. “It’s what happens when rich people throw money at problems and expect results. At any cost.”

           “We didn’t know it was going to go as badly as it did.”

           “I know.”

           “Arkham’s always been a mess. We really did want to reform it into something good. Something productive.”

           “I mean, it was productive,” said Ellen, her voice sharp. “Lobotomizing addicts did help them kick the habit, it just also had the unfortunate side effect of, well, I mean, lobotomizing them.”

           There was a short silence. Damian asked, “Is she alright?”

           “Kind of,” answered Ellen shortly. “She’ll be in assisted living for the rest of her life.”

           “I’m sorry.”

           “It’s fine. Probably not even your fault. She OD’d a couple times before, so she wasn’t in great shape to begin with.”

           “This can’t be an easy case for you.”

           “Why?” she asked, looking at him. “Because it has to do with drugs?”            He returned her gaze, then gave a little shrug.

           “If I couldn’t handle an overdose now and then, Batman wouldn’t have given me the mask.”

           “Why did he?”

           Ellen leaned forward slightly, setting aside her food and holding the blank scarlet mask in her hands. She shook her head. “When you figure that out,” she said wryly, glancing at him, “let me know?”

           When they finished their food and headed back to Damian’s motorcycle, Ellen nudged him again. “Hey,” she said. “Thanks for not asking.”

           He didn’t know what she meant. “Not asking what?”

           She gestured across her face, at the diagonal scar there. “If this was what she was in for.”

           Damian had of course assumed this, but he had been pointedly trying to ignore the scar at all costs since he met Ellen, so he’d avoided saying it outright. For some reason the scar across her face reminded him of his own hidden scar down the length of his back. How he got that was a sensitive story, and he didn’t imagine Ellen’s was any less sensitive.

           He took her back into the city, and they parted ways for patrol.

---

NAME: Ellen Nayar ALIAS: Ember DATE OF BIRTH: 26 August 1993 BLOOD TYPE: A+  (Relevant Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Kiran Kaur Nayar, Grandmother AFFILIATIONS:  Green Arrow II (Former), Team Ember EVAL: Mastery of basic defensive techniques at a young age provides a solid foundation for future training. Has a tendency to fall back on defense when cornered, relying on tools to compensate. Capable of much more but struggling to balance training as well as other civilian commitments; requires more investment both in and out of uniform. Significant pain tolerance. Easily identifiable due to the scar and also hair/body type, any uniform designs must compensate.

Strong field skills, hand-to-hand improving and introduction of nonlethal weapons going well. An apparent preference for the staff though she lacks martial arts training in that area. Sharp mind and eye for puzzles. Potential for leadership role assuming increased confidence in her abilities. Imperative to firm up her loyalties or risk alienation. Family history of addiction.

NOTES: |Robin| Hand to hand is fine but she needs to work on weapons and tech. Uniform needs an upgrade, face mask restricts breathing |Red Hood| She smokes

---

           “I have good news,” said Oracle, on the screen, “and bad news.”

           “Good news first,” said Nell, at the same time Damian said, “What’s the bad news?”

           They looked at each other, and then Damian gestured for Nell to continue. She beamed at him and asked, “Good news?”

           “We got a lead on our guy,” said Oracle, a big globular green head taking up the screen in lieu of her real face. “The one who reverse-engineered the diaxamene.”

           Ellen sat up a little straighter, alert. “I thought he was in some mental facility somewhere.”

           “Yeah,” continued Oracle. “That’s the bad news. I, uh – had a friend in Chicago drop by to see him.”

           “Oh?” interrupted Damian, with a tone that sounded unlike him. It was half intrigued, half snide. “Interesting. What kind of friend?”

           “Just a friend,” she said snippily.

           Damian just made a face, but didn’t protest. Ellen glanced at him, wondering what that was about. “What’d he have to say?”

           “That’s just it,” Oracle told them. “It wasn’t our guy, just some decoy checked in under his name.”

           “A decoy?” asked Niloufar, a frown on her face. “For how long?”

           “Presumably since he checked in,” said Oracle darkly. “Which means James has been out this entire time, no doubt plotting his next step for years.”

           At the name, Damian lifted his head slightly, as if surprised she would use it. He leaned against the wall of the Bunker, a little away from the others, his arms crossed over his chest. “James?” asked Colin. “Is that his name?”

           “Yeah,” sighed Oracle. “OK, confession time, you guys.”            The green icon which represented Oracle disappeared from the screen, replaced with blackness and then suddenly a crystal clear image, as if a window to another room. An older woman with ginger hair and glasses on sat before them, computer glare lighting her up.

           She waved at them. “Some of you have met me,” she said, “but I guess it’s time to make this official. My name’s Barbara, but I’m still O in the field, OK?”

           Nell and Niloufar looked a little starstruck; even Colin seemed impressed. “OK,” said Jordan, glancing with what may have been a tinge of jealousy over at Niloufar. “What does that have to do with our case?”

           With a look that was tight and worried, almost apologetic, Babs continued, “The guy we’re looking for – his name is James Gordon, Jr. His dad is Commissioner Jim Gordon of the GCPD.”

           Everyone’s eyebrows raised in surprise, except for Damian. He watched as Jordan asked, “Gordon? The cop?”

           “Commissioner,” Damian corrected, echoing Babs.

           “Didn’t he retire?” asked Ellen, glancing around at Damian, who shook his head.

           “He was on leave a few years ago, that’s all.”

           “Yeah,” continued Barbara, nodding. “He took some time off after what happened with James the first time. I mean,” she paused, adding, “first is relative, but – anyway. Here’s where it gets personal. Jim Gordon is my dad.”

           In a little bit of awe, Nell asked, “So this guy is your brother?”

           Making a face, Babs said, “Kind of.”

           “Kind of?” echoed Jordan derisively. “How can it be kind of-?”

           Abruptly, Damian noticed Niloufar; she kept glancing in between him and the screen suspiciously, as if she was just putting something together. “What?” he barked at her.

           Again, her gaze flickered in between him and Barbara. “You’re Robin,” she said, then pointed at the screen, “she’s Oracle. Aren’t you two…?” she trailed off. “Does that mean Commission Gordon is your…dad…too?”

           Damian just stared at her for a moment, arms still crossed over his chest. Then he pointed at the screen, and asked doubtfully, “Do I look like I’m related to her?”

           “You could have different moms,” offered Nell helpfully.

           Rolling her eyes, Jordan said, “Come on, Nilou, everybody knows Robin’s dad is-”

           Both Damian and Babs said, “Jabberwock,” and even Ellen added a scolding, “Jordan.”

           At these reprimands, she threw her hands up in surrender. “Nevermind.”

           “OK, so,” said Nell, turning back to the computer screen. “If we’re pretty sure it’s this James guy, then we at least know where to start, right? When was the last time time he was in Gotham, and did he have any favorite haunts? We can start there.”

           A little taken aback by Nell’s sudden professionalism, Damian snapped his gaze away from her and back to Babs. “Spoiler is right,” he said. “We’ll dig into all the leads we have on James Gordon Jr.”

           “This is the guy who poisoned the baby formula, right?” asked Ellen doubtfully, glancing around at the group of them. Returning her gaze to Babs on the screen, she added, “Of course you know more about him than I do, Oracle, but somehow that kind of crazy complicated scheme just doesn’t seem to fit the M.O. here. Why would he downgrade to selling to rich kids?”

           “Actually,” piped up Niloufar, “we went through a couple overdose cases in the city over the past few months and came up with three positive reports for the same Joker Venom-diaxamene hybrid that was found in Joseph Fremont’s body.”

           “We?” echoed Damian sharply, watching her.

           Instead of shrinking under his gaze, as Damian had expected, Niloufar turned to look directly at him, straightening up slightly. “Me and Jor- Jabberwock.”

           Damian watched her for a moment, then his eyes flickered over to Jordan, who nodded.

           “So it’s not just Brentwood,” said Ellen.

           “But it’s still a valid point,” said Babs, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “James is more psychological than that. I don’t really see him getting off on handing out drugs like some kind of common pusher.”

           “You think he’s working with someone,” said Damian.

           It was Colin who spoke up then, from where he was leaning against one of the specimen analysis tables. “The Dealer,” he said earnestly. They all paused and looked around at him, and he returned their gazes, nodding slightly. “It’s gotta be this Dealer guy,” he continued, “the one who’s been selling to the older kids at Brentwood? That’s his partner.”

           Babs considered this, twisting her lips thoughtfully. “That would make sense,” she admitted. “James can’t exactly hang around the schoolyard, but he could manipulate someone younger into working for him. He manufactures, the Dealer distributes.”

           “Then that makes things a lot easier,” said Nell. “If this Dealer guy’s younger, then he’s more inexperienced, which means he’s more likely to slip up.”

           “Exactly,” said Babs, nodding. “I think the important part now is to split up-”

           Behind everyone, Damian cleared his throat loudly.

    ��      When the others looked around, he seemed a little apologetic. But on the screen, Babs hesitated for a moment before letting out a short sigh. “It’s your team’s case,” she admitted. “This is really important, you guys. Batman’s really taking a leap of faith by trusting you with this one.”

           “They’ve earned it,” said Damian, in protest.

           “Yeah, but.” Babs shrugged, her empty hands turned upwards. “This is Batman we’re talking about. It took him about ten years to even start trusting me.”

           “Well,” said Jordan shortly, shooting a slightly too-friendly grin up at Babs, “all that means is that Batman’s one stupid motherfucker.”            “OK,” said Damian loudly, moving forwardly to the computer. “Thank you, Oracle. Send anything you’ve got our way, we’ll get ahead on this.”

           Before she said anything else, something else seemed to occur to Oracle, and she said, “Oh, one more thing. Which one of you keeps saving your math homework to the encrypted file database?”

           There was a beat of pause as Damian turned to glance around at his team. Nell was staring up at the screen with her mouth in a little ‘o’ shape; Ellen nudged her. “That – might be me,” she squeaked, obviously humiliated. “I’m sorry! Robin said we could use the computers he gave us for homework!”

           Damian tried not to roll his eyes as Babs explained, “You absolutely can, but you don’t need to put it in the encrypted file drive. Just leave it on your desktop or something so it doesn’t get uploaded to our databases.”

           Mortified, Nell nodded. “Sorry,” she said, again.

           “It’s fine,” Babs told her. “Anyway, I’m here if you guys need anything. Keep me updated.”

           “We will,” promised Damian, and then the screen before them went blank. In the white glow of the Bunker, he turned around to face them all. “Jabberwock, Abuse, Spoiler,” he began, with no hesitation, “you three need to fan out, comb the city for James Gordon Jr. He’s got to be hiding somewhere. Take a look at the information Oracle sent, and then head out. This is our top priority for the time being. Ember,” he added, turning to her, “you’re with me.”

           Snidely, Jordan muttered, “Wow, what a surprise.”

           Glancing at her then back at Ember, he explained, “We need to figure out who this Dealer person is. If he’s dealing in Gotham, then it can’t hurt to check in with Red Hood.”

           Already, Ellen was shaking her head. “Hood doesn’t let his people deal to kids,” she told Damian. “If the Dealer’s been selling to Brentwood students-”

           “Based on Seraph’s intel, he’s been dealing on the streets as well. Anyway, I’m not saying Red Hood will know who the Dealer is, just that he may be able to point us in the direction of any suspicious activity lately.”

           Ellen considered this, then nodded. “Is he in town?”

           Damian nodded. Earlier that week the entire family had gathered to celebrate the final night of Hanukkah; Bruce wasn’t particularly religious, but as he grew older he started to take every opportunity he could to gather everyone under one roof. This had been the first Hanukkah celebration at the Manor Jason had attended since before his death. He had spent most of the night messing around with Damian and Cass, more or less refusing to talk to Bruce directly. All things considered, it went well.

           Anyway, Damian knew that Jason was still in Gotham because he’d been in a group chat with him, Cass, and Stephanie since. Steph, offended that she hadn’t been invited, had been alternatively demanding all the details and simultaneously assuring them she wouldn’t even have gone anyway.

           Instructing the others to review Oracle’s information then spread out across the city, he made contact with Jason before riding out into the dark streets with Ellen on his motorcycle behind him. “Hey,” she said, her commlink transmitting her voice clearly into Damian’s ear despite the rushing wind, “what’s your deal with Red Hood?”            He didn’t answer right away. “What do you mean?”

           “He’s, like. One of you guys, right?”

           “Oh,” said Damian, taking a sharp right turn that nearly scraped the side of their legs against the street. He had thought she was speaking emotionally, as if she could detect faint strains of annoyance he thought he’d gotten past. But Ellen knew his identity and that of his father, so he wasn’t shy about admitting relation. “He’s my brother,” he told her, his voice a whisper in her ear. They entered the old block of Midtown, edging into Red Hood territory. “Adopted brother, actually, not that it really matters.”

           Ellen knew vaguely of Damian Wayne’s adopted brother, but she hadn’t realized he and Red Hood were one and the same. “Damn,” she said. “The papers would have a field day if they realized the founder of Neon Knights was a drug lord on the side.”

           This took Damian by surprise; he glanced back at her, confused, and then realization dawned on his face. With a laugh, he slowed the motorcycle, drawing close to their destination. “No, not that brother. Red Hood is older than him.”

           After a beat of hesitation, Ellen asked, “I thought the other guy was Nightwing?”

           “He is,” sighed Damian, pulling the motorcycle to a stop in a tight alleyway. Getting off, he explained, “Not very many people know this, but I actually have four siblings. Three brothers and a sister.”

           “Oh, shit,” said Ellen, impressed. She too got up, slipping off the bike. “And I thought you were an only child.”

           “In fairness,” he said, shooting a grin her way, “I do act like one sometimes.”

           There was a loud thump before them, and a red helmet shone in the darkness as Jason Todd descended from the fire escape above. “Sometimes?” he echoed, teasing. “More like all the damn time.” He jerked his thumb at Damian and to Ellen, he said, “Kid’s insufferable.”

           While Ellen gave Jason an uncertain smile, Damian got straight to business. “You heard about our case?” he asked, his voice low.

           Jay gave a shrug, shaking his head slightly. “Rumors, mostly. I heard some evil assclown is selling Joker Venom pills to kids.”

           Damian nodded. “We’ve pursuing all the leads we’ve got, but we’re trying to pinpoint a distributor. What do you know?”

           “Nothing, really,” admitted Jay. “Nobody on my payroll goes anywhere near kids, definitely not all the way out to the suburbs. Besides, I have kind of a,” he paused, and though Ellen could not see his face behind the helmet, she imagined she could hear him smiling, “thing when it comes to the Joker, so most of my people know not to touch that shit with a ten-foot pole. Sorry,” he said, and he sounded genuinely apologetic. “Wish I could help more.”

           “It’s fine,” murmured Damian thoughtfully, taking this in. “Have you caught anyone selling to kids lately? Maybe this is someone you dismissed?”

           But Jason was already shaking his head. “Nope,” he said. “My reputation is pretty well-known by now, Robin. People don’t usually try and test me.”

           Glancing in between the two heroes, Ellen moved slightly forward. “Is there anyone who left your operation lately, maybe for unrelated reasons? I don’t think a street pusher goes straight to working for a supervillain, if you know what I mean – it’d make sense if our guy had some exposure to you and yours before he ever made it to where he is now.”

           Jason considered this for a moment.

           And then he let out a very small groan. Though the helmet obscured his expression, Damian’s pulse quickened, sensing and impending revelation. “Yeah,” said Jay, nodding ruefully. “Now that you mention it, yeah. There was this one kid – I didn’t exactly, like, kick him out, ‘cause he never really did anything wrong, but he was just…” he paused for a moment, as if searching for the word, “…creepy. Not like, in a big-bad-supervillain anyway, but he was just kind of a creep. A lot of the women who worked around him had…complaints. He never did anything,” he added mildly, “but they just got weird vibes from him. Women’s intuition, huh?” Ellen heard the grin in his voice, and imagined he may even have winked her direction.

           “Anything else?” she asked.

           “Yeah,” answered Jay, his voice turning serious once more. “This guy – his name’s Scott Morrison, he’s maybe your age, Ember. But I caught him following me around on patrol a few times. Not following,” he continued, qualifying himself, “but – showing up in suspicious places. Like he memorized my route, which is weird enough, but then he’d start asking if I ran into any of the Big Bads. He asked me about Joker maybe once before I put my fist through his front teeth.”

           Disappointed, there was a reprimand in his voice when Damian began, “Hood-”

           But Jay just laughed and held up his hands. “Wasn’t that bad, li’l wing, just scared him a little. Anyway, haven’t seen him since then.” Damian nodded, but before he could say anything Jay added, “OH! I almost forgot – there was this one time, super fuckin’ weird, I kind of tuned it out.”

           At this, Damian and Ellen exchanged looks. “What happened?” she asked.

           “OK,” he began, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “Now this is super weird, and don’t tell your old man, Robin, ‘cause it’s the kind of thing he’d whoop any of our asses for – but one time, I got, you know,” he mimed gunshots with both hands, “beat up, a little, and I was bleeding all over the place try’na find somewhere to hang out and lick my wounds, and I swear to you this guy – I caught him, like, on his hands and knees on the ground following me with a fucking sponge in his hands.”

           Both Damian and Ellen stared at him. “A sponge?” Ellen echoed, with a hint of disbelief.

           “Yeah,” said Jay, nodding his head. “A fucking sponge. Blood is literally dripping off of my body, and he’s on the ground sponging it up. It was like, the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

           More heatedly than Ellen really thought was necessary, Damian demanded, “And you just let him take it? Why didn’t you tell Batman about this?”

           “Because,” answered Jay, rolling his head in a way that suggested he was also rolling his eyes, “no motherfucker’s dumb enough to try and clone me. You and your dad-” he broke off, glancing at Ellen, then corrected, “-I mean, the Big Man, sure, but me? Nobody gives a shit.”

           “It’s protocol,” said Damian stubbornly, but Jason shook his head.

           “Believe me, this guy wasn’t smart enough for anything like that. He was just fucking creepy.”

           There was a suspicious pause, and then Damian asked, “When did this happen?”

           “Like, maybe a month ago? But he quit working for me before that, maybe half a year or so.”

           Ellen glanced at Damian. “That fits,” she murmured. “Our first recorded overdose was almost four months ago. That leaves time for recruiting and initial distribution.”

           “Right,” said Damian, with a nod. The expression on his face was still severe. “Hood, we’ll need all the info you can get us on this Scott Morrison character.”

           “He used to have a place over in Midtown,” Jay said. “I think it was a motel or something, nothing permanent. Riverview, or something?”

           “Riverview,” repeated Ellen, with an urgent look towards Damian. “That was on Oracle’s list.”

           With a nod, Damian touched the commlink at his ear. “Thanks,” he said to Red Hood, and then into his comm he said, “Spoiler, come in.”

           Returning to Damian’s bike, they headed back through the city. By the time they reached Riverview Boarding House, Spoiler was waiting for them in Room 7. “I talked to the owner,” she said, as Ellen and Damian entered the room. “Somebody’s kept up-to-date on payments, but he hasn’t seen anybody come in or out for a couple weeks now.”

           “Probably since we started investigating,” said Ellen, as Damian moved forward to search the room. “He knew we were on to him and wasn’t about to get caught with his pants down.”

           “Robin,” said Nell, watching him search the walls for hidden compartments. He glanced around at her, and she jerked her head towards a door in the wall. “The closet.”

           For a moment he did not move, only stared at her. And then he turned to the rickety wooden door, and he opened it.

           Peering in behind him, Ellen made a face. “Gross,” she said.

           Damian said nothing, taking in the sight before them: a veritable shrine to the Joker, littered with newspaper clippings and amateur art and low-res photos printed from the internet. In the center, there was a small Robin action figure, the kind of thing sold at tourist traps in Gotham. The plastic Robin’s limbs and his head were all removed from his body.

           Gravely, Damian said, “He’s a Joker fan.”

           “That explains why he’s working with JGJ,” offered Nell, from behind them. When both Ellen and Damian glanced back at her, she clarified, “Uh, James-Gordon-Junior. He needed a snappier name.”

           Looking back at Damian, Ellen said thoughtfully, “It does explain the connection. Gordon used the lure of Joker Venom to recruit Morrison as his Dealer.”

           Still staring at the shrine, Damian’s brown skin had gone wan with disgust, and his lips were pressed tightly together. “I don’t understand these people,” he said lowly, then he stood up, getting to his feet. “The Joker is responsible for the deaths of hundreds, if not thousands of people. He’s a criminal. He’s not funny, he’s not interesting, and I don’t understand people who find him compelling.”

           “Yeah,” agreed Nell sympathetically. “I mean, the guy’s basically a terrorist.”

           Ellen caught the brief flicker of emotion across Damian’s face, a momentary tell that betrayed how much Damian disliked that word. Still; Ellen didn’t think Nell was wrong. “This is good, though,” said Ellen, to Damian. “It means we can bait him.”

           Damian paused, then, very slowly, he turned around to look at Ellen.

----

           “No,” said Bruce, shaking his head.

           “It’s an hour, tops,” Damian insisted, leaning against the computer’s control panel in the Cave. “The entire team will be on top of him the whole time. It’ll be fine.”

           “No,” repeated Bruce, shaking his head. “You are not removing the Joker from Arkham custody for any amount of time. He is in solitary confinement for a reason, he’s too dangerous-”

           “A hour,” Damian repeated, practically begging his father. “Tightly contained and surveilled. It’s the easiest way to smoke out the Dealer.”

           “The easiest is not always the wisest,” said Bruce shortly, “and I will not permit you to play games with a dangerous criminal. He always has a plan, and he’s bested you before.”

           “But the entire team-”

           “My answer is final,” Bruce told his son. “Harleen is out on parole, perhaps she may be of some help.”

           As if disgusted by this suggestion, Damian began, “I’m not retraumatizing Doctor Quinzel on the off chance that she completes Scott Morrison’s Joker fantasy. Most Joker-philes like him think she’s a meaningless distraction anyway.”

           “I’m afraid I cannot allow the alternative, Damian. It’s too dangerous.”

           “We’re so close.”

           “Then find another way.” Bruce’s voice was not unkind as he said, “I believe in you, and I believe in your team. But this mission has already exposed you and Ember to that monster enough. It isn’t going to happen again.”

           For a moment, there was silence in the cave except for the constant whirr of machinery and the far-off drip of slowly-forming stalactites. There was a profound tension between father and son, thick enough to slice; Damian was once more angry that his father was blocking the team’s ventures, and yet Bruce would not budge. There was no compromise here.

           On the specimen analysis table, unceremoniously contained in a plastic box, the crowbar remained. Bruce had not been sure what to do it, and so as he ran his tests he had kept it there in full view for all to see. Mercifully, Jason had not ventured into the Cave the last time he was here.

           A part of Damian wanted to tell Bruce about Scott Morrison, known Joker fanboy, on his hands and knees, sponging up blood. He wanted to tell him that he’d dug up records that someone fitting Scott Morrison had made a clandestine visit to the Joker’s cell in Arkham, presumably leaving him with a gift. He wanted his father to know that the crowbar was a complete plant, and if the crust of bloodstains on its curved end matched Jason Todd’s, it wasn’t because this was the weapon that had been used to kill him.

           But Damian was still a sixteen year old, and he was still petty. Perhaps Bruce was being especially strict because of this painful reminder of his own failure at the Joker’s hands, but Damian was just spiteful enough to keep this small knowledge from his father anyway, let him simmer in his own guilt and shame.

           “Fine,” Damian said curtly. “Then any further deaths due to this Dealer character are on your conscience, Father.”

           Later, he updated Ellen on the situation via commlink while on patrol. She sounded somber. “So that’s it, then?” she sighed. “That plan is out.”

           “Hm? Oh, no,” said Damian, leaping from one rooftop to another, his boots absorbing most of the shock of impact. “We’re still going to do it. We just need to keep it a secret from Batman.”

           “What?”

           He fiddled at his commlink. “Ember, can you hear me? I said we need to keep it as secret from Batman.”

           “No, I heard you, I just – that’s impossible.”

           “Not impossible,” he corrected, “merely difficult for the inexperienced. Luckily you have me, and I happen to be extremely adept at keeping secrets from Batman. You have to learn that kind of thing,” he told her, offhandedly, “when you live in a house with him.”

           “Breaking the Joker out of Arkham is a little different than sneaking out to meet your girlfriend, Robin.”

           Without hesitation, Damian said coolly, “That’s not what I meant.” It had been, actually, almost exactly what he meant. “All I’m saying is that I know him well enough to anticipate where he’ll be watching. We do this quickly and effectively, and it’ll be over before he knows it.”

           “That’s…optimistic.”

           “I have been told I have a very glass-half-full demeanor, yes.”

           Ellen laughed, and despite himself Damian caught himself grinning. “If you say so. When’s it going down?”

           Good question. Damian considered this, standing above a stone gargoyle, scanning the cold city streets below him. “The longer we wait, the more drugs the Dealer gets out on the streets.”

           “Fair enough. What’s the plan?”

           “Meet the others at the Bunker. I’ll explain everything there.”

           When all was said and done, it did take a little more time than Damian had anticipated. The first phase was dependent on the speed and inertia of rumor, which was spread both throughout Brentwood via Colin and Niloufar and throughout the rest of drug-dealing Gotham by Jason and a select few on his payroll. The rumor spoke of an anniversary: the birth of the Joker, or the rebirth, rather, when a man was swallowed by acid and spat back out as something else. It was a trap, designed to target the biggest Joker fanboy who frequented those circles, who, of course, naturally knew the apocryphal location of that fateful warehouse.

           All they needed was one night. It had to work perfectly, smooth as silk, precise as clockwork; but Damian had faith in his team. Well. Ember’s team.

           Ellen herself was stationed at the warehouse, staking it out. Colin and Nell were off on the other side of the city, waiting for their cue; Niloufar was spearheading operations out of the Bunker, and Jordan was with Damian, her speed, strength, and flight, a necessary part of his plan.

           Hidden inside the bowels of Arkham Asylum, Jordan hovering slightly above him, Damian watched the seconds tick by on his mask’s lens display. For a minute or so, there was nothing but tense silence.

           And then Damian touched the commlink at his ear. “Abuse, Spoiler,” he said, “you’re good to go. Seraph, how are we on security?”            “All disabled and looped,” came Niloufar’s voice, without hesitation.

           “Perfect,” he replied. “Ember, Jabberwock’s on her way.” He nodded towards Jordan, then took the lead, expertly navigating through the high-ceilinged halls of Arkham, avoiding guards.

           In his cell, the Joker was still singing. “Little Bunny Foo-Foo, hoppin’ through the forest…”

           Disabling the door’s security, Damian gestured for Jordan to take over. “Go.”

           She did so, wrapping her arms roughly underneath the Joker’s shoulders and heaving him up and out, shooting back the way she and Damian came, disappearing into the night. The Joker’s fading laughter echoed in Damian’s ears as he locked and secured the door once more, then slipped away, hoping no one would notice Joker’s sudden silence.

           As Damian headed back out to where his motorbike was stowed, he checked the open channel; the shit had, to put it delicately, apparently hit the fan, and Batman was barking orders at other Gotham heroes following an incident on the other side of the city, which meant he was far away from Arkham and from the docks where their plan was about to go down.

           It took him almost twenty minutes to make it to the warehouse. Leaving his bike some ways away, as he approached the empty, abandoned building he was certain he could hear that faint, familiar laughter. Their trap was lain.

           He found Ellen and Jordan in the rafters, high above the walkways which crisscrossed above vats which were now mostly empty. Jordan had dropped the Joker in one which had a foot or two of (probably?) nontoxic sludge at the bottom, and his laughter was so manic and so loud that its reverberations started to hurt Damian’s ears. He activated the dampeners in his commlink, relying on his teammates’ comms to hear them.

           “Nice work,” he told them both. “Abuse and Spoiler gave us an hour, tops. After that Batman resumes his normal patrol around the city, but we caught him as far away as we could, so it should be at least another hour after that before he realizes there’s anything amiss.”

           Though Ellen’s face was obscured, the sound of her voice betrayed her concern. “So Morrison better show up in the next two hours.”

           “He will,” said Damian, watching the dark and empty walkways below them. “He won’t be able to resist the lure of legend, and there’s no way he’ll stay away once he hears that.”

           “No kidding,” muttered Jordan, following his gaze.

           “That’s still leaving an awful lot to chance,” Ellen added, sounding uncertain. “The timeline seems kind of arbitrary, and I’m still not completely sure why we needed the Joker himself for this anyway? Seems to me we could’ve just used, I don’t know, a recording of his voice or something-”

           “Ember, please,” said Damian shortly, waving away her concerns. “I know what I’m doing.”

           “Yeah, OK,” she replied, maybe a little insulted. “I don’t doubt that, Robin, but I’m pretty sure Batman said that this isn’t your team, it’s mine, and part of me is starting to think the only reason you wanted to go get Joker in the first place was because your dad told you not to-”

           But before Ellen could continue or Damian, suddenly livid, could open his mouth to defend himself, Niloufar’s voice echoed in all of their ears. “Someone’s approaching the warehouse,” she told them, via commlink. “Good luck, you guys.”

           They didn’t reply, because at that moment they heard the big sheet metal door to the warehouse creak open. All at once, the Joker’s laughter suddenly stopped.

           Scott Morrison was not at all what Damian had been expecting. He was somewhere in his twenties, tall, slim, good-looking. His blond hair was gathered into a topknot, and he wore wide-brimmed glasses which appeared to have no magnifying effect on his eyes, and so therefore were probably only worn for the aesthetic appeal. Both he and Ellen shifted uncomfortably at the same time, perhaps coming to the simultaneous conclusion of, Oh no, he’s hot.

           “Hello?” he called into the vast warehouse, which Damian thought was a pretty stupid move. He went to the stairs which led to the walkways above the giant but now-empty vats, climbing them slowly, cautiously, peering around. “Joker? Mister J?” he called, which caused Damian to cringe slightly and Jordan to whisper, “Yikes.”

           Morrison continued, making his way across steel catwalk, his hands on the railing on either side. “I heard you laughing,” he called. “Are you here? Joker?”

           A low, sickly chuckle emanated from one of the vats. Morrison’s eyes went wide behind his fake glasses, and he darted across the walkway, leaning over the railing.

           The Joker leered up at him. His voice was low and frightening, like a purr in the back of his throat. “Who’s asking?”

           “Oh, shit,” said Morrison, in obvious excitement. “Holy fuck, OK, oh my God, Mister Joker, woah. Hold on,” he said.

           Morrison dug into his pocket, and Jordan muttered, “Oh, Christ,” as he took out a phone and literally posed for a selfie.

           “Oh my God, Mister Joker, big fan,” said Morrison, once he’d taken the picture. “Like, holy shit, I can’t believe this is actually happening-”

           Ellen gently nudged Jordan. “Go,” she whispered, but then Damian held out his arm.

           “Wait,” he said.

           In disbelief, Ellen blinked at him. “We have him,” she whispered angrily at him, “he’s right there, if we don’t move now then the Joker could tip him off to this whole operation-”

           But Damian was already shaking his head. “Wait,” he said again.

           This infuriated Ellen. Jordan just gave her an apologetic look and a shrug. Knowing Robin was the most experienced vigilante between the three of them, she forced herself into silence.

           In the vat, up to mid-calf in a thick yellowy-gray sludge, the Joker just stared up at Morrison, unimpressed. “Big fan, huh?” he echoed. “What era?”

           Morrison stared down at him. “Uh, what was that?”

           “What era?” repeated the Joker, sounding as petulant as a child. “Nicholson, Ledger, Leto? Who was your favorite?”

           “Um,” said Morrison uncertainly, “uh, no, sir, I think you misunderstand me, I’m just saying that like, you know, out of Batman’s whole rogues gallery, out of, you know, out of everything in Gotham that makes up the soul of this place – I mean, you’re it, man! Your presence is stamped into the very fabric of Gotham City! You’re everything!”

           There was a silence. The Joker stared up at him. “Not very funny, are you?” he asked, his lip jutting out in a pout.

           “What – I mean, no one’s as funny as the Clown Prince of Crime! But, like, I do have some stand-up material, if you like, want to hear?” He paused anxiously, then began, “OK, so, like, here’s one – why does Batman’s sidekick keep getting younger and younger?”

           Sounding bored, the Joker drawled, “’Cause the older ones keep dying.”

           “No,” said Morrison, “but – that’s funny too. No, it’s ‘cause – ‘cause he’s Robin the cradle. Get it? Like robbing?”

           There was a long, tense silence. And then the Joker let out a chuckle. “Hey, kid,” he called up, “that is pretty funny.”

           Beside her, Ellen could feel Damian tense, his entire body coiled tightly. He was aching to jump into action, she could tell. She didn’t entirely understand why he hadn’t already.

           “Hey, kid!” Joker called once more. “Why don’t you come on down here, and tell me a couple more of those funny jokes you got there?”

           A flash of uncertainty crossed Morrison’s face. “Oh, I – I don’t know-”

           “Aw, come on,” said the Joker, kicking around at the sludge under his feet. “Hey, wanna hear another one? What did Batman say to Robin before they got in the Batmobile?”

           Jordan leaned over and whispered, “I know this one!”

           “Get in the car, Robin,” said Joker, and then he wheezed with laughter, breathless in his own hilarity. A grin spread across Morrison’s face. Once more he dug into his pocket for something, then pulled out a plastic baggie full of pills. He snagged three or four out of the bag, and stuffed them into his mouth, swallowing them down.

           Then he climbed up on the railing, and he jumped down into the vat below.

           He hit the bottom with a sickening crunch, and let out a yelp of pain. “Got him,” muttered Damian, but once more he stopped Jordan from moving. “Wait.”

           The Joker stalked towards Morrison, who misinterpreted this as intent to help him up. “No!” he barked. “No, no, no! This is good! Pain is good, it’s freeing, like chaos of the mind!” He let out a loud, manicured laugh, as if it were something he practiced in the mirror. “See, Joker, man, I get it! I get you, the big joke behind everything, the ultimate gag! Laugh in the face of an indifferent universe! It doesn’t matter anyway, so why not try to burn as many bridges as you can on your way out, right? We all die in the end!”

           “That’s not very funny,” said the Joker.

           “It’s all funny!” insisted Morrison, as the Joker slowly neared him, like a shark stalking his prey. “That’s the point! It isn’t real! It doesn’t matter! That’s what makes the joke so damn funny-”

           The Joker grabbed Morrison’s topknot; his wide grin, usually so gleeful, was downturned into a comical frown. Though the slimy sludge at the bottom of the vat was only about a foot high, he shoved his face into it, sticking a knee on Morrison’s back to keep him down. Morrison started to struggle wildly, his shouts unintelligible as the ugly goo slipped into his mouth and nose.

           “It’s like babies in bathwater,” the Joker said, cocking his head, watching Morrison struggle. “Never understood it! You leave the kiddies alone for two minutes and suddenly they’re floatin’ on their bellies like a bunch of goldfish. How do they drown in that!” He let out a guffawing, belly-deep laugh, which sent a chill down Ellen’s spine. Pushing Morrison’s face deeper into the sludge beneath him, he roared, “It’s not that deep!”

           At that, Ellen disregarded her orders and moved. She leapt onto the steel walkway, sprinted down towards the vat, and jumped in, her feet landing squarely on Joker’s shoulders, knocking him off his feet. As Morrison lifted his face and gasped for breath, the Joker turned around to see her, and his face lit up. He laughed maniacally, gleeful.

           “Look who’s back!” he screeched. “How nice! How soon! Tell me, how’s Mama?”

           Ellen drew her fist back to throw a punch, but in a split second, the Joker had disappeared; she glanced up to see Jordan spiriting him away, presumably back to his cold cell in Arkham. There was a squelching thump behind her, and she turned around to see Robin glaring at her. As Morrison coughed, Damian said, “I had it under control.”

           Pointing towards the pathetic figure on his hands and knees, Ellen said, “Joker was going to kill him.”

           “He was going to scare him,” replied Damian pointedly. “Nothing like a healthy dose of trauma to cure you off your obsession with a criminal like the Joker.”

           Still wracked with coughs, Morrison’s head swiveled towards Damian, sludge dripping down his face. “S’not a – criminal – he’s an – artist-”

           Damian turned around, looking only mildly interested. He kicked at Morrison’s torso with his boot, and the man toppled over. “The eight-year-olds finger-painting at Neon Knight Centers are artists,” he told him. “The Joker’s just a two-bit con man who somehow stumbled into mythologization.”

           Gasping for breath, Morrison refused this. “He’s the – beating heart – of Gotham City! He’s Batman’s binary star! He defines the Batman!”

           Damian grabbed the man’s collar and swung a leg over his head so his feet stood on either side of him. His gloved fist connected solidly with the front of Morrison’s face. “He’s not that interesting,” Damian said shortly.

           “Where would Batman be without the Clown Prince of Crime?”

           Again, Damian punched him. “In better mental health than he is right now, that’s for sure.”

           “Who would he be? He’s the Batman’s greatest match! His greatest foil! The only other man he’ll ever truly understand!”

           His fist connected for a third time with Morrison’s face, and Damian looked over his shoulder to address Ellen. “People use that one a lot,” he said, sounding genuinely perplexed. “It really says something concerning about how people interpret empathy and intimacy in male relationships.”

           Once more Morrison attempted that terrible, overly-practiced laugh, and Damian turned around again to hit him in the face again. It was then that Ellen moved forward, placing a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “As satisfying as this may be,” she told him, sympathetically, “we’re here to get information out of him, remember? We need to know about Gordon.”

           “Gordon?” echoed Morrison; there was incredulity in his voice, even through the blood running out of his mouth. “J-James Gordon?”

           “That’s the one,” said Ellen, turning to him. “Junior, that is. Is he the one who’s been supplying you with the modified diaxamene?”

           “Diaxamene?” he repeated, but Ellen was already digging through his pockets for that plastic baggie full of pills, which she quickly found and removed. “I don’t know what the fuck diaxa-what is, that shit’s diluted Joker Venom!”

           “Yes, we know,” said Damian shortly, clearly still irritated. “You’re the one they call the Dealer, aren’t you?”

           “I – I don’t know, man, James just said to tell people that!”

           “James,” said Ellen, seizing hold of this. “He’s your supplier, isn’t he?”            His whole body trembling, he tried to nod, but it came out looking more like a seizure. Spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth, and his skin was quickly draining its color, turning pale. Quickly Damian pulled open one eyelid, inspecting his pupils. Tightening his grip on Morrison’s collar, Damian asked, “How many pills have you taken tonight?” Morrison started to shake violently, his eyes rolling back into his head, and through his teeth, Damian snarled, “No!” Removing one hand from Morrison’s collar, Damian flipped open a compartment on his utility belt, popped the cap off a tiny syringe, and plunged it into Morrison’s neck.

           “Anti-Venom?” asked Ellen. Damian nodded as Morrison’s shaking subsided, and he grew limp in Damian’s grip. “Robin,” she said, lowering her voice. “You can OD on diaxamene too if you take enough of it. The Anti-Venom may not work.”

           “Maybe not,” grunted Damian, “but it’ll give us more time.” He shook Morrison bodily by the collar, and the man’s head lolled on his neck, his eyes blinking out of sync. “Scott Morrison,” he barked, “we know you’re the Dealer, and we know you’re working with James Gordon, Junior. Listen to me. Tell me where he is, and I’ll do my best to save your sorry life. If you have nothing to give me, then I will leave you here, and you will die alone in a warehouse where no one will find your body for weeks, if not months, and you’ll go to your grave knowing that Joker himself thinks you’re not fucking funny. Now,” he said, his voice calm and collected. “Where is James Gordon Junior?”

           Something was catching in Morrison’s throat, making it impossible to reply; Ellen had a suspicion that it was vomit, his stomach protesting against all the poison he’d swallowed. Incapable or unwilling to form words, he merely lifted his hands, and he pointed out of the windows which lined the walls, just below the ceiling.

           Damian paused, then he twisted around, following the direction of Morrison’s finger. Ellen did as well, but she didn’t understand: all that was visible out of the window was the night sky, stars faded above the lights of the city, and the shooting spire of the tallest building in Gotham City – Wayne Tower.

           Grabbing Morrison’s hair, Ellen hissed, “Is this a game to you?” but Damian had already let him go, shooting his grappling hook out onto the walkway above.

           He touched the commlink at his ear. “Seraph!” he called wildly. “Seraph, come in!”

           Something dropped into Ellen’s stomach as she understood. Following Damian, she sent out a 911 call with Morrison’s location and status, then quickly followed Damian onto his bike. Niloufar had never responded to Damian’s call, and when he tried Jordan, he heard nothing from her either.

           As they raced through Gotham, Ellen asked, “You think Gordon knows about the Bunker?”

           “Maybe,” murmured Damian. “I know he knows about my family, and he knew about Batman back when we were based out of the Bunker. It’s a tease, Ember, don’t you get it? The diaxamene, the Joker Venom, the dead child so close to the Manor? He’s been playing us this whole time.”

           “How?” asked Ellen, confused. “What do you mean?”

           The bike shot into the secret entrance to the Bunker, and Damian was off of it immediately, sprinting into the main computer hub. “Seraph!” he called, looking around wildly, but there was no one there. “Seraph!”

           Before them, the computer screen glowed a blank white. Something blared on both Damian and Ellen’s comms, Batman sending out an emergency signal for something going down at Arkham. “Jabberwock,” said Ellen to Damian, fear tight in her voice. “Something’s gone wrong-”

           For a moment, Damian did nothing. On either side of him, he squeezed his fists tightly, gloves still stained red with Scott Morrison’s blood.

           Then he turned to Ellen and said, “We can’t leave. Gordon’s here.”

           “Where?”

           Damian gestured for her to follow him, then took her through a set of doors she’d never seen open; he peeled his mask off his face, then lowered his eye down to a retina display. It blinked green, and an elevator opened. He held out one hand as if to say to her, After you.

           “Where are we going?” she asked, unmoving.

           He shrugged, then stepped into the elevator first. “The Penthouse,” he said shortly. “It’s where Nightwing and I lived back when he was Batman. If I’m right, it’s where Gordon’s set up camp.”

           In disbelief, she finally boarded the elevator with him. “And how is it possible that none of your fancy security features ever picked up on anything up there?”

           “I don’t know,” said Damian shortly, pressing his mask back onto his face. The elevator moved so rapidly with such sudden force that Ellen almost stumbled. “But it’s stupidly obvious – where’s the one place we would never look? Right under our noses, of course.”

           Ellen glanced up at the ceiling of the elevator. “Or – above our noses, I guess,” she mumbled.

           They emerged in a hallway; Damian jogged to the door and took off his glove, pressing his thumb against a scanner, and then he said aloud, “Voice recognition, Damian Wayne,” and the lock of the door let out a little click.

           Lowly, Ellen asked, “If your security’s so tight, how’d he get through?” but Damian ignored her, pressing his gloved hand against the door and pushing.

           The Penthouse was dark, but a light was on down the hallway, coming from the kitchen. When Ellen and Damian entered, a voice called, “In here!”

           With a wary glance at each other, they followed the source of the voice. Turning the corner into the big modern kitchen, they found James Gordon Jr. sitting at the counter, glasses on his face, a spoon tucked into a pot of yogurt.

           “Hi,” he said, waving at them. “Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you, Damian.” To Ellen he said, “I don’t know who you are,” then continued, “Nice digs, huh? Dick could’ve decorated more probably, but personally I like it.”

           “Where is Seraph?” asked Damian, his voice flat.

           “If you mean the girl downstairs,” James answered, scooping up a spoonful of yogurt, “she left a while ago. Probably to help her friend with the Joker.” Blandly, he looked at Damian. “Really nice of you to break him out and everything for me, Damian. I didn’t even have to lift a finger.”

           “You’re done, Gordon,” Damian told him. “Your operation is shut down.”

           “What operation?” asked James, looking mildly interested.

           “The drugs.”

           “I don’t have any drugs,” said James, innocently.

           Damian stared at him, his expression stony and unreadable.

           “Go ahead, search the place,” James continued. “Not a lot around here except some personal mementos. Sorry for squatting, but, hey, life’s tough when everyone thinks you’re a psychopathic murderer, right, Damian?”

           Color dropped out of Damian’s cheeks, then suddenly rushed back in, flushing his brown skin. Sensing they had to take control of this situation, Ellen stepped up. “We’ve got you, Gordon,” she said simply. “We got the Dealer, too. We know what you’ve been putting out on the streets.”

           “I haven’t been putting anything on the streets,” James said smoothly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

           Feeling a surge of anger, she suddenly sympathized with Damian’s fury. “Scott Morrison-”

           “-OD’d,” said James flatly. “Right?”

           Damian and Ellen exchanged a look. For all they knew, Morrison had died before the paramedics reached him.

           “Scott Morrison was a crazy man with a Joker fetish,” James said, with a shrug. He ate a spoonful of yogurt. “Nothing to do with me.”

           “The diaxamene-”

           For the first time, a hunt of frustration entered his voice. “Any idiot could’ve gotten ahold of that. Haven’t you heard, Miss Nayar? Prescription pills are all the rage nowadays. Oh,” he added, picking up a remote from behind him, pointing it at the television on the wall. “Would you look at that.” A Breaking News broadcast played, informing viewers that a potential catastrophe at Arkham Asylum had narrowly been avoided, and the Joker, who had mysteriously vanished from his cell, was back in custody.

           James smiled at Damian and Ellen.

           “All according to plan,” he said.

           Damian’s eyes were glued to the screen, slightly in shock as the news showed shaky video footage of a slim figure shooting into the sky, holding someone else in their arms. It was obviously Jordan, and it looked like she was carrying Niloufar, who had covered her face with her headscarf against the cameras. Despite himself and the absurdity of the situation, he somehow found himself taken by surprise that they had managed to solve the situation on their own, without his help.

           James Gordon Jr. did not fight back. He did not protest; when the police came, they arrested him, but found no evidence of wrongdoings in the Penthouse except, obviously, trespassing. Later, into his commlink, Oracle informed Damian that they were holding her brother temporarily, but they may not have enough solid evidence to put him away.

           Meanwhile, Ellen got a quick status report from the other members of the team, then checked on Scott Morrison. He was alive, but comatose.

           As the late nighttime hours began to bleed into the impossibly early morning, Damian and Ellen sat on the rooftop of a building, their legs hanging down over the side.

           “I know – technically – we won,” said Ellen, peering down at the city streets below them. “So why does it still feel like we got played?”

           “It usually feels like that,” Damian told her dully, without looking around at her. “Especially with filth like the Joker and Gordon, Junior. It always feels like there’s something we missed.”

           “We didn’t need to take the Joker out of custody.”

           “No,” agreed Damian. “I…suppose I just hate it when people think the Joker is bigger than he is. He’s a lowlife criminal. I wanted Morrison to understand that.”

           “I think that’s the problem,” said Ellen, glancing around at him. “It…strikes me that you really can’t take these things personally in this business.”

           Damian didn’t answer for a moment. Then, slowly, he got to his feet. “I understand that,” he announced, with some finality. “But…I don’t think it’s right to remove your own feelings out of these kinds of situations. I think that’s how you end up like Batman.”

           “And that’s a bad thing?”

           “It’s the worst thing,” he told her, his gaze flickering over to her. “A terrible option. The bad ending.”

           “I don’t know,” she challenged, with a shrug. “He took care of this city for a long time before you came along. Maybe he knows something you don’t.”

           This obviously troubled Damian. He bade her farewell, and then he made his way back to Wayne Manor, arriving in the Cave just as the very first edges of dawn began to break. His father was already there, seated in his throne before the computer, as always. Damian noticed the crowbar was gone from its place on the specimen table.

           He removed his mask on his way up from the garage, passing his father at the computer and heading in the direction of the stairs that led up to the house above. Before he reached them, though, he paused, and he turned around.

           “Father,” he said.

           Bruce moved only slightly, glancing over his shoulder.

           “I’m sorry,” he admitted, like pulling teeth.

           For a moment, nothing happened. And then Bruce turned back to the computer, his fingers clacking away on the keyboard. “What are you apologizing for?” he asked. “You won.”

           “The Joker-”

           “Is back in Arkham.”

           “But I-”

           “Maybe you made mistakes, Robin,” said Bruce, still facing the screen, “but your team was there for you, and they took care of it. I was impressed with Jabberwock and Seraph in particular tonight. Jabberwock should do very well on patrol, though I believe Seraph would benefit from a more permanent headquarters.” On the screen, Bruce flipped through a series of safehouses he’d long kept on reserve. “The Haven, perhaps?”

           Damian gaped at his father. “Headquarters?” he asked. “Patrol? You mean to say – this is it? You really trust them?”

           “I trust you,” said Bruce, “and I trust Ember. That’s got to be enough for now.”

           Still, Damian felt discontent. “Father,” he began, “I still think – if we had just-”

           “Ifs and should haves are poison, Damian,” said Bruce, without looking around. “You won. Red Hood and some of his contents are working on getting Gordon’s drug off the streets, but without a supplier, it should dry up on its own.”

           “And Gordon?”

           “From what I hear of him, he’s no criminal mastermind. He just likes toying with people. If he can, his father will put him away.”

           “His father,” echoed Damian, trying to ignore the obvious parallels suddenly rearing his mind. “I imagine you might be feeling some…empathy, for his situation.”

           “None at all, Damian. None at all.”

           Damian rolled his eyes, then turned to head up into the Manor, taking the stairs two at a time.

----

NAME: Niloufar Ghorbani ALIAS: N/A / Seraph DATE OF BIRTH: 16 October 1996 BLOOD TYPE: O+ (Full Medical History) EMERGENCY CONTACT: Nazanin & Mahmoud Ghorbani, Parents (Contact) AFFILIATIONS: Team Ember EVAL: Observe for further development of metahuman abilities

#sog2 #earth 28 #damian wayne #colin wilkes #nell little #ellen nayar #bruce wayne #jason makes a cameo!!!!! #also i hated writing the joker #and this fic officially makes jewish!waynes canon #i'll fix some shit in here before i upload it to ao3 but i just had to power thru it and get it Finished #oh babs is also there