#Something impossibly advanced and beyond comprehension

[nils-gold-34]

Invaded by Gold

The sun sagged low over the cracked turf of Falcon Ridge FC, casting long shadows across the field where practice had just ended. Lungs burned, jerseys clung with sweat, and the air was thick with the lingering pulse of exertion. Laughter came easy—raw, unguarded. Banter flew between teammates like a ball well-passed, fluid and effortless. The boys moved with the swagger of kings, each one high on adrenaline and unspoken camaraderie. For a moment, they felt untouchable. They had no idea what was coming.

It began as a hum. Barely there. Low and subtle—not mechanical, not musical, but something deeper. Something that bypassed the ear and vibrated directly through air, into bone. Heads turned instinctively. Jokes died mid-sentence. From all four corners of the pitch, they appeared—the Golden Army. Twenty men advancing in eerie unison, clad in gleaming kits that shimmered unnaturally in the evening light. Their skin gleamed slick beneath the metallic gold, their cleats striking the ground in perfect rhythm. They were flawless. Expressionless. Eyes lit with a molten glow that suggested purpose beyond comprehension. The players of Falcon Ridge froze as they were surrounded. No one laughed now. No one moved. This was not a game. This was not even a warning. It was a invasion.

A voice broke the silence. Smooth. Calm. Final. “You are not yet brothers. But you will be.” The leader stepped forward, bearing golden kits, each etched with glowing numbers. They seemed to breathe in his hands. Jason—the joker—stepped up first, grin faltering but still trying to make light of it. “Okay, lads. Bit much for a prank, innit?” There was no response. Just the press of the jersey into his chest. Jason's hands twitched. “It’s... warm,” he muttered, half to himself. “Is it supposed to—?” And then the change began. Gold slithered across his skin like liquid metal, seeping into his pores, locking onto his frame. Chest, arms, thighs—all wrapped in living fabric. He gasped as it molded even lower, reshaping him, lifting him, rendering obedience as physical transformation. Jason collapsed to his knees, eyes wide. “Yes... yes... make me golden...” he whispered, lost in it.

Leo stepped back in horror. “What the hell is happening? Jason—snap out of it!” But Jason didn’t even hear him. He had begun to chant—words he didn’t know seconds before, whispered in rhythm, reverent and devout. “We are golden. You will be too...” Leo turned to run—instinct overriding thought—but a tall figure blocked his path. Another Golden Bro, impossibly still, held out the second jersey with unnerving patience. No force. Just inevitability. Leo’s breath caught. His hands trembled as they reached out, helplessly drawn. The fabric pulsed against his palms—warm, electric, weighted with silent purpose. He tried to resist. Tried to fight. But his strength wasn’t enough. The jersey slid onto him like it had always belonged there. It didn’t just change his appearance—it rewrote him. Willpower collapsed into unity. Resistance melted into design. Leo stood upright, silent, calm. Eyes dulled, focused. He joined Jason, expression blank, body obedient.

One by one, the rest fell. Jerseys passed. Transformations accepted. The pitch became a scene of silent conversions—boys becoming brothers, individuals dissolving into golden purpose. Until only Tommy remained.

“No.” His voice cracked, a final flicker of rebellion. “You’re freaks. This is sick.” The leader moved toward him, unshaken. “You’re not afraid of us, Tommy. You’re afraid of losing.” Tommy squared his shoulders, glaring. “I don’t want to be like you.” The last jersey was dropped at his feet, glowing faintly. “You already are. Just not yet complete.” Tommy spat and took a step back. “You don’t own me. You don’t decide who I am.” But the golden circle tightened. Jason and Leo now stood in formation, arms behind backs, legs spread slightly, as if awaiting command. Their faces were serene. Golden. Perfect. Jason smirked. “You’ll feel it, bro. You’ll crave it. The control. The purpose. The shine.”

Tommy turned and ran. He only made it thirty yards before his legs gave out, buckling beneath him like snapped supports. The hum was inside him now—buzzing through his veins, clawing through his thoughts. He collapsed, scraping at the dirt, skin crawling, chest tightening. He needed something. He needed the gold. The leader knelt beside him, calm as ever, and raised the final jersey into the air. “Put it on. Obey. Shine.” Tommy’s voice broke into a sob. “Please—” But his hands were already moving, fingers reaching. The moment the fabric brushed his skin, it melted into him—crawling across his chest, sinking into his limbs. His body arched. His mind overflowed with gold-thought, alien and serene. He screamed. Then gasped. Then moaned.

“I’m... golden,” he whispered, voice hollow, eyes blank and gleaming.

The circle opened.

Now thirty-one golden bros stood on the pitch, shining beneath the dying sun. There was no resistance. No doubt. No ego. Only shimmer. Only unity. Only glory.

You can try to resist but the gold will find you.

Are you next?

Contact our recruiters: @brodygold or @goldenherc9

[sitara-dawn]

The purpose of this question is for GOD to try and spend some time with his children/creations. I know GOD is an omniscient being beyond anyone’s comprehension. But for fucks sake just be a decent parent and try to talk and understand all of your children/creations. Everything fell apart because GOD wasn’t willing to listen and emphasize with all of his children/creations.

If GOD returned to visit his children Sera, Emily, and Lucifer what would GOD think of them now compared to how they were in the past?

If God payed a visit to check on his three first creations Adam, Lilith, and Eve what would GOD say to them after they’ve evolved from their previous lives as innocent humans in Eden?

Also GOD made a quick visit to meet Charlie Morningstar, his grandmother. After that, GOD meets Cain down in Hell and later Abel up in Heaven to see how the first sons of humanity are doing these days. Finally, GOD will have a chat with Adam’s favorite LOVER Lieutenant. What would GOD think of all these people connected to his children and creations!?

Okay, I am going to try and respond to this as tactfully as possible, but apologies in advance if I come off as harsh.

Simply put: There’s a reason I don’t tend to show God directly in my fics. The occasional memory or something of that sort, sure, but I never write God as a character. Typically, I have Him working through Sera when necessary to have a divine authority figure in the story.

The reason for this is because He’s above us and is impossible to comprehend fully. Although many of His creations call him Father, He cannot be compared to an absentee father because He is unfathomable and beyond mortal constraints.

The thing about God, and by extension Jesus, is that He is always with us but that, like all relationships, it’s a two-way street. He’s already there and is waiting for us to reach out. How God responds may not be in an overtly direct manner, however, because that’s part of having faith.

So characters like Lucifer are probably just too prideful to reach out. Sera likely believes herself unworthy to reach out. And Adam probably tries to reach out, but not to seek genuine guidance or connection, but affirmation. All of them lack the faith that God loves them unconditionally. At least, that’s what I think.

As for Charlie, it’s possible her very existence is God’s way of reaching out to Lucifer, Sera, Lilith, and Adam, but none of them realize it. Her ability to see the good in the damned is admirable and since God wants us to saved, I believe He’d see her as someone worth believing in, but that she herself needs to improve and to understand what redemption actually means. God doesn’t want to see us suffer, but He also can’t just let us get away with hurting ourselves and others. He is merciful, but also just. In the same way we punish criminals, often times for life, we can damn ourselves and it is just to suffer for it in our afterlife. The mercy comes when we accept the weight of our sins and truly repent from the bottom of our hearts and strive to do better, to be better. In simple terms, anyway.

As a matter of fact, “Hell’s Coming With Me” by Faberdiscor does a perfect job going into this subject matter. It’s a very long fic, but well worth the read.

As for Lute, her existence by Adam’s side could be God’s way of saying ‘move on and be happy’ but Adam simply isn’t listening. His heart isn’t open to it so he doesn’t realize there’s a woman by his side that can actually heal his internal pain rather than simply numb it.

So, all this is to say: I don’t care for the idea that God is just some deadbeat dad not communicating with His children. He shouldn’t be treated as a character with faults because He’s perfect by definition.

For the personality traits thing? No. Just in general, no, I don’t care for that idea. I often mention in my fics that Lucifer, Sera, Michael, and Adam contain a unique divine spark, an essence of God within them, a small sliver of true divinity within their souls, but that doesn’t translate into personality.

He also wouldn’t give fragments of Himself unknowingly. I just find that to be ludicrous.

As for Lilith, I do think God would be disappointed in her because He had such high hopes for her, but He also would acknowledge that she and Adam were incompatible and was fine with her and Lucifer finding happiness with each other. He’d love Lilith as he loves Adam and wants her to be happy. But then she and Lucifer broke the one rule of the garden by tempting Eve into disobedience, releasing Evil into the world and infecting Creation with sin.

That’s what lead to His disappointment in her and Lucifer both.

I don’t particularly care for the idea of God having a favorite, per-se, but that Adam is special to Him because Adam is His first human creation. A unique being that differed from angels.

As for Eve, we don’t know enough about her yet.

Of course, all this is just how I see things. I got my fill of “God is a deadbeat dad” in SPN. It was funny at first, especially at the end of S5 when it’s heavily implied God was looking out for the characters all along and even intervened to save Sam and Dean’s lives at one point. Buuuut then they made Him too human in a way that wasn’t just Him putting on an act in later seasons. That’s a whole other can of worms tho.

The point being, I’m bored of the idea that God is just an absentee father or that He’s flawed in any way. That’s a big reason I don’t utilize Him directly, because as a flawed human being I cannot hope to portray a flawless being.

So yeah, those are my thoughts on the matter. Sorry if that’s not what you were looking for but I just, in general terms, don’t care to see God as a character with flaws or as someone capable of making mistakes.

[duconchemicels]

Quality Meets Innovation: How Ducon Construction Chemicals Industries Ltd Revolutionizes Bangladesh's Construction Industry

Revolution rarely happens overnight, but in Bangladesh's construction industry, Ducon Construction Chemicals Industries Ltd has been quietly transforming how we build for nearly two decades. As someone who has worked alongside various construction chemical suppliers since 2010, I've witnessed firsthand how this company has redefined quality standards and introduced innovations that seemed impossible just years ago.

The Quality Revolution in Action

When I first encountered Ducon Construction Chemicals Industries Ltd during a pharmaceutical project in 2015, what struck me wasn't just their epoxy floor bangladesh installation quality—it was their systematic approach to problem-solving. Unlike other suppliers who offered one-size-fits-all solutions, Ducon's team analyzed our specific requirements, environmental challenges, and long-term operational needs.

This attention to detail has established them as the best construction chemical company in BD. Their PU floor bangladesh applications consistently exceed international standards, something I've verified through multiple quality assessments across different industrial sectors.

Innovation Through Strategic Partnerships

What sets Ducon Construction Chemicals Industries Ltd apart as a leading construction chemical importer in BD is their strategic approach to sourcing. Rather than simply importing available products, they collaborate with German and Malaysian manufacturers to develop solutions specifically designed for Bangladesh's unique climate and construction challenges.

I've observed their innovation process during several large-scale projects. Their technical team doesn't just apply existing formulations—they adapt and optimize them for local conditions. This approach has resulted in epoxy floor bangladesh and PU floor bangladesh systems that perform exceptionally well in our high-humidity, temperature-fluctuating environment.

Real-World Impact Across Industries

The revolutionary impact becomes clear when you examine specific sectors. In Bangladesh's booming pharmaceutical industry, Ducon Construction Chemicals Industries Ltd has enabled local manufacturers to achieve FDA-compliant facility standards through their specialized flooring solutions. Their chemical-resistant PU floor bangladesh installations have helped companies like Square Pharmaceuticals and Beximco maintain international certification standards.

Similarly, in the textile sector—Bangladesh's economic backbone—Ducon's waterproofing and flooring solutions have prevented millions of dollars in potential losses from moisture damage and production disruptions. Their comprehensive approach goes beyond surface applications to address underlying structural protection needs.

The Technology Behind the Revolution

As the best construction chemical company in BD, Ducon has invested heavily in application technology and training. Their skilled technicians use advanced equipment and follow rigorous protocols that ensure consistent quality across all projects. This technological edge, combined with premium imported materials, delivers results that frequently exceed client expectations.

The company's 15-20 year warranty period isn't just a marketing strategy—it reflects genuine confidence in their materials and application expertise. Having followed up on several projects over the years, I can confirm that Ducon's installations maintain their performance characteristics well beyond typical industry standards.

Looking Forward

Ducon Construction Chemicals Industries Ltd continues revolutionizing Bangladesh's construction industry through continuous innovation and unwavering quality commitment. As a trusted construction chemical importer in BD, they're not just meeting current market demands—they're anticipating future needs and developing solutions accordingly.

Their success story demonstrates that when quality meets innovation, the results can truly transform an entire industry. For Bangladesh's construction sector, Ducon represents the perfect blend of international expertise and local understanding that drives sustainable progress.

[vipblogposting]

Understanding Abortion Services and Costs in Dubai: What You Need to Know

Navigating Abortion Options in Dubai

When it comes to reproductive healthcare, women in Dubai face a unique set of challenges due to the strict regulations surrounding abortion. While global access to safe abortion services continues to grow, many women in the UAE often find themselves searching for clarity about options, costs, and legality. Understanding the framework for abortion in Dubai is crucial for anyone considering medical assistance, especially those looking for compassionate and confidential care.

Is Abortion in Dubai Legal?

A common and vital concern is whether Abortion in Dubai legal . The UAE has one of the most restrictive abortion laws in the region. Generally, abortion is only permitted in cases where the mother's life is at risk or when the fetus has a fatal abnormality. Even then, strict guidelines and approvals are required, often involving legal documentation, medical verification, and timelines.

For most women, particularly expatriates or visitors, these legal limitations leave very few local options. This has led many to seek safe and legal alternatives outside the UAE, where abortion laws are more accommodating and privacy is better protected.

Understanding the Abortion Price in Dubai

When women explore their options, they often search for the Abortion Price in Dubai to get a sense of what to expect. Unfortunately, due to legal restrictions, it's almost impossible to find comprehensive abortion services offered openly in Dubai. In many cases, the cost is not just financial—it also involves emotional stress, secrecy, and uncertainty about safety.

Even when medical termination is permitted under UAE law, services are limited to a small number of approved hospitals and require multiple consultations and legal steps. This drives many women to look beyond the UAE for healthcare providers offering transparent pricing, legal safety, and emotional support.

Choosing Safe Alternatives Beyond Borders

Given the restrictions in the UAE, many women opt to travel to countries with more liberal abortion laws. India, for example, is a popular choice due to its more accessible healthcare system, legal protection for abortion, and advanced medical facilities. One such trusted provider is American Hospital Bangalore, known for its discreet, professional care tailored for international patients.

Patients who travel to Bangalore are often surprised by the comprehensive support provided—from initial consultation to aftercare. Abortion is legal in India up to 24 weeks of pregnancy under several grounds, including contraceptive failure for married and unmarried women. This legal framework ensures safety and autonomy, something many women from Dubai are seeking.

Why Women from Dubai Choose American Hospital Bangalore

American Hospital Bangalore has become a preferred choice for women who value discretion, legal assurance, and expert care. The hospital’s team is experienced in handling international patients with sensitivity and respect. The procedures are performed using the latest medical technology in a confidential and non-judgmental environment. Moreover, the staff ensures a smooth transition from consultation to recovery with minimal stress.

One of the reasons women trust this hospital is the transparent communication regarding procedures and pricing. Unlike the uncertainties surrounding the abortion price in Dubai, patients here receive a clear breakdown of costs with no hidden fees. This transparency allows women to make informed decisions based on facts, not fear.

Planning Your Journey for Care

Traveling for a medical procedure might sound overwhelming, but with the right support, it can be a straightforward and empowering choice. The team at American Hospital Bangalore offers virtual consultations to help you understand the process before you even leave your home. They assist with everything—from medical records and visa documentation to hotel arrangements and follow-up care.

For many women, this level of personalized attention is not just comforting—it’s essential. The ability to take control of your own health in a safe, legal, and caring environment can be life-changing, especially when the local options are limited or unclear.

What to Expect During the Process

Women considering this path should know what to expect. The process typically begins with a remote consultation to discuss medical history and available options. Once travel plans are confirmed, patients undergo a detailed evaluation at the hospital. Depending on the gestational age and individual health, the procedure may be medical (pill-based) or surgical.

In both cases, patient comfort and safety are the top priority. Recovery is often swift, and many women are able to return to their routine within a few days, knowing they received legal and professional care.

Final Thoughts

The reality is that abortion in Dubai legal issues leave very few safe options for women who need reproductive healthcare. The stigma, legal barriers, and limited resources make it difficult to access proper care. That’s why informed decisions and safe alternatives matter so much.

If you or someone you know is navigating these challenges, consider reaching out to American Hospital Bangalore. With their patient-first approach and commitment to privacy, they provide more than just medical care—they offer reassurance, dignity, and control over your reproductive health.

Take the Next Step

Your health and your choices matter. If you are looking for a safe, legal, and supportive environment for abortion care, don't wait. Contact American Hospital Bangalore today to schedule a confidential consultation and take the first step toward your well-being.

[techvivek07]

Kotak Neo Login

In an era defined by rapid technological advancements and the ever-increasing pace of life, convenience has become paramount. Recognizing this, Kotak Mahindra Bank has introduced Kotak Neo, a cutting-edge digital platform designed to redefine banking for the modern age. At the heart of this innovation lies the Kotak Neo Login – a gateway to a world of seamless banking experiences, tailored to meet the needs of today’s digital-savvy consumers.

The Kotak Neo Login represents more than just a means of accessing banking services; it embodies a commitment to simplicity, security, and innovation. With its user-friendly interface and robust security features, the login process sets the stage for a banking experience that is both intuitive and trustworthy.

One of the key advantages of Kotak Neo Login is its accessibility. Whether you're at home, in the office, or on the go, the platform offers round-the-clock access to your accounts and financial services. This level of convenience empowers users to manage their finances on their own terms, without being bound by traditional banking hours or locations.

Security is a top priority for Kotak Mahindra Bank, and the Kotak Neo Login reflects this commitment. Through advanced encryption protocols and multi-factor authentication mechanisms, users can rest assured that their personal and financial information remains safeguarded at all times. This peace of mind is invaluable in an age where cyber threats loom large, and data breaches are an ever-present concern.

But perhaps the most compelling aspect of Kotak Neo Login is its versatility. Whether you're checking your account balance, transferring funds, paying bills, or applying for loans, the platform offers a comprehensive suite of services to meet your banking needs. What's more, Kotak Neo continuously evolves, incorporating feedback from users and integrating the latest technological innovations to ensure that it remains at the forefront of digital banking.

The login process itself is designed to be as seamless as possible. Upon navigating to the Kotak Neo website or mobile app, users are greeted by a clean and intuitive interface that guides them through the login process. Whether logging in for the first time or returning for a repeat visit, the steps are straightforward and easy to follow, minimizing friction and maximizing user satisfaction.

For those who prefer the convenience of biometric authentication, Kotak Neo Login offers support for fingerprint and facial recognition technologies. This not only streamlines the login process but also adds an extra layer of security, as biometric data is unique to each individual and virtually impossible to replicate.

Once logged in, users are presented with a personalized dashboard that provides an at-a-glance overview of their accounts, transactions, and financial activities. From here, they can navigate to different sections of the platform with ease, accessing features such as account management, bill payments, fund transfers, and more.

In addition to its core banking functionalities, Kotak Neo Login also serves as a gateway to a world of value-added services and rewards. From exclusive discounts and offers to personalized financial insights and recommendations, the platform goes above and beyond to enhance the banking experience and reward customer loyalty.

But perhaps the true beauty of Kotak Neo Login lies in its potential to transform the way we think about banking. By leveraging the power of technology, Kotak Mahindra Bank has succeeded in creating a platform that is not only convenient and secure but also empowering and future-proof. Whether you're a digital native or a seasoned banking veteran, Kotak Neo Login has something to offer everyone – a glimpse into the future of banking, where convenience, security, and innovation converge to create a truly seamless experience.

In conclusion, Kotak Neo Login represents a bold step forward in the evolution of banking, offering users a gateway to a world of seamless, secure, and convenient financial services. With its user-friendly interface, robust security features, and comprehensive suite of banking functionalities, the platform sets the standard for digital banking in the 21st century. As technology continues to advance and consumer expectations evolve, Kotak Neo Login stands ready to meet the challenges of tomorrow, empowering users to take control of their finances and unlock a brighter future.

[qlmddpc]

Wrinkle-Free Wonders: Exploring Advanced Treatments for Ageless Skin

The world of face treatments has experienced a spectacular transformation as a direct result of the pursuit of indestructible youth and flawless skin. The days of relying entirely on creams and lotions are long gone, and instead, we find ourselves living in an era in which new technology redefines what is possible in the pursuit of eternal beauty. This site is dedicated to deciphering the secrets that lie behind the most recent advancements in cosmetic treatments, which promise miracles in the quest for skin that is free of wrinkles and appears to be ageless.

The Evolution of Facial Treatments:

Recent developments in science and technology have sparked a significant shift in the trajectory of facial treatments. Traditional treatments have given way to more advanced methods that offer more specific solutions while simultaneously reducing the amount of time needed for recovery. The armory of modern anti-wrinkle treatments consists of a variety of techniques, each of which is more cutting-edge than the one that came before it.

1. Botox and Beyond:

An established brand that is synonymous with wrinkle reduction is simply one element of a large range of neuromodulators and dermal fillers. Botox represents just one facet of this spectrum. These more sophisticated variants not only reduce the appearance of wrinkles but also place an emphasis on preserving natural facial expressions. The era of frozen faces is making way for a more sophisticated and artistic approach to anti-aging, which is set to replace it.

2. Laser Resurfacing:

The development of laser technology has ushered in a new era in the field of skin rejuvenation. Laser resurfacing treatments, which can either be ablative or non-ablative, are able to provide individualized solutions to a wide variety of skin issues. These treatments work by promoting the creation of collagen in the skin, which in turn promotes skin regeneration and the precise smoothing out of fine lines and wrinkles.

3. Microneedling with PRP:

Microneedling has become increasingly popular, particularly when combined with platelet-rich plasma (PRP). The innate curative powers of the body are activated when this synergistic mixture is applied. Platelet-rich plasma (PRP) and microneedling both work to rejuvenate the skin, and the micro-injuries they cause work together to make the skin thicker and more flexible again.

4. Injectable Mesotherapy:

Injectable mesotherapy is gaining popularity as a complete method of facial rejuvenation. A custom-made combination of vitamins, minerals, and hyaluronic acid is injected directly into the patient's skin as part of this treatment. Injectable mesotherapy rejuvenates the skin from the inside out by improving moisture and battling the obvious signs of aging. This is accomplished by treating numerous elements of skin health.

Finding the appropriate therapy that will keep your skin looking young is a very personal process for each individual. The degree to which a method can accommodate an individual's requirements and objectives determines the degree to which it is effective. The quest to reclaim youthful skin can be made easier with today's wide variety of technologically advanced face treatments, which promise wonders. Nevertheless, in the midst of all the excitement that these developments bring, it is essential to put safety, effectiveness, and the protection of natural beauty first.

Connecting to QLMD Direct Primary Care (DPC):

Even though there are a wide variety of options available in the realm of cutting-edge face treatments, it is impossible to overestimate how essential it is to take a comprehensive approach to skincare. QLMD Direct Primary Care enters this story as something other than a traditional medical facility; rather, it is a haven for holistic health that provides both cosmetic and medical care to its patients.

1. Wellness-Driven Approach:

The philosophy of QLMD DPC places a strong emphasis on maintaining a healthy lifestyle. The clinic acknowledges that the source of genuine beauty is a mind and body that are in good health. The Wellness and Aesthetics Programs at QLMD DPC are exemplary of this philosophy since they combine medical know-how with aesthetic sensitivity in order to offer a complete approach to the concept of wellness.

2. Botox Therapy at QLMD DPC:

For individuals who are interested in botox therapy in particular, QLMD DPC provides a degree of care that goes beyond what is visible on the surface. Dr. Quincy Lucas, who is the driving force behind QLMD DPC, is able to combine a thorough knowledge of medical practice with an appreciation of aesthetics. This guarantees that individuals will not only attain wrinkle-free skin but also experience a natural and revitalized appearance that is in harmony with their own characteristics. The integration of innovative facial treatments with an all-encompassing approach to wellness has emerged as the genuine key to unlocking eternal beauty in the search of wrinkle-free wonders and youthful skin. In this journey, QLMD Direct Primary Treatment serves as a guiding light by providing individualized treatment that goes beyond aesthetics and promotes overall well-being. Embrace the joys of ageless skin with QLMD DPC, where each treatment is a purposeful step toward a healthier and more beautiful self. QLMD DPC is the place to go to embrace the miracles of ageless skin.

[selfblogs]

Fitspresso Customer Reviews : (Fake or Legit) Is This Weight Loss Supplement Worth The Hype?

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[usafphantom2]

DECEMBER 6, 2017

Red Star: The incredible story of the American fighter jet that fell into Soviet hands

Much has been written about USAF’s secret fleet of Soviet fighters, but far less known is the counter story of the American fighter that ended up deep in Russia during the Cold War.

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At the end of the war in Vietnam, the USSR received several samples of US aviation equipment captured by the victorious Vietnamese communists, among them was a F-5E light fighter-bomber (of a total of 27 that the North Vietnamese found). The F-5E, serial number 73-00807, was delivered to the Soviet Union. It was an extremely valuable intelligence coup that could tell the Communist super state much about American design and this mass produced aircraft’s capabilities, and how to counter it.

This exceptionally interesting trophy was sent to the VVS airbase in Chkalovsky before being transferred to the Akhtubinsk base. A test team comprised of engineering staff from an aeronautical research institute was formed to investigate, develop and test the American machine. The engineers and technicians were impressed by the design, and especially admired the F-5Es ease of maintenance and flying operation. The wing design also impressed the Russians for it conferred the F-5E with an impressive ability to fly at minimum speeds and high angles of attack.

From the end of July 1976 to May 1977, a full-scale flight test of the Tiger II took place at the air force research institute. Flying was carried out by two exceptionally experienced pilots, A.S.Byezhyevets and V.N. Kondaurov, both decorated Heroes of the Soviet Union.

The results were shocking. In terms of manoeuvrability the F-5E was considerably superior to the Soviet MiG-21 fighter, a highly capable dogfighter itself. Further tests show a similar advantage over the most advanced Russian fighter, the MiG-23. However, the American plane was at a significant disadvantage in vertical manoeuvrability and energy compared to the MiG-23. Critically, it also lacked beyond visual-range medium-range missiles, something the MiG-23 did have.

The Central Aerohydrodynamic Institute (TsAGI) in Moscow performed static tests on the aircraft and the results were comprehensively recorded. Intriguingly, some of the design features of the F-5E made it onto the Soviet T-8 and T-10 projects (the latter becoming the famous ‘Flanker’).

In the 1990s the nose section of the aircraft was moved to a display area known as ‘Hangar 1’, which today is virtually impossible for outsiders to visit.

[justasimplesinner]

Can I get different versions of Riddler with an s/o who is a magician like Zatanna? Like if anyone insults him, they cast a curse spell on the person who harmed him

Arkham!Riddler with a Zatanna-esque s/o hcs:

now, arkhamverse Eddie isn't one to be easily swayed. he is a man of science and doesn't believe a thing like magic exists. he's seen some weird shit in his life, but all of it can be explained. worst case, it's simply alien or from another universe, but can still be researched and at least reasoned by science. and what you've shown him is completely off the rails

at first, he will pester you. surely, this must be some advanced trick? you are a skilled illusionist darling, but now it's time to explain those tricks. once you prove it to him that you quite literally possess magical abilities, he's speechless for a moment. it's really hard for him to wrap his head around it. it's like you suddenly proved to him god existed - it was impossible!

but quite soon, he warms up to your powers and learns to appreciate them. curse anyone who wrongs him, you say... that might give him some ideas. there's a few people that wronged him, sure. although it still irks him a little that there's something in the world he can't understand. he even has half the mind to have you help out with his plans, but doesn't follow through with it because even he finds it unfair to fight against something that has no right to exist. Batman may be a cheater but he's no miracle-maker. if he's to take part in challenges, at least they have to be possible for a human to solve.

Young Justice!Riddler with a Zatanna-esque s/o hcs:

this Eddie has been faced with so much shit in his life, and even more shit during his "stay" at Belle Reve that he isn't even that surprised. he's come in contact with literal Zatanna as well as her father, so he knows that there's something out there he can't quite understand. metahumans and all that are almost explainable, but magic is just beyond human comprehension. and he's okay with that. honestly, he's even a little excited to learn about what you can do

he's very eager to know your abilities and boundaries, what's possible and impossible for you. your horizons are stretch way further than any normal humans and he's immensly curious as to what can you achieve with your powers. and they're really useful, too! it's like you can do anything, and he adores you for it

and learning that you're ready to literally curse the shit out of anyone that even dares to look at him the wrong way really strengthens his trust in you. you make him so confident and smug all the time. whenever someone insults him, he just smirks because he knows you're gonna be on their asses in a matter of seconds. you also make him feel... safe. like you'll always protect him, no matter what

Zero Year!Riddler with a Zatanna-esque s/o hcs:

similarly to arkhamverse, this Ed doesn't quite believe magic exists. everything can be explained and technologically faked, he'd know. he entertained the concept of magic, and was fond of the idea of it in books or games ever since he was a child. but it was merely a liking, and nothing can beat his admiration for what's real and what can be achieved if one just puts their mind into it. or, if he just puts his mind into it. he'd dare to call himself a magician as well, if he didn't feel it insulting to insinuate that his achievements were the result of anything other than his brilliant mind and skilled hands

and then you just pop up and give him a little whiplash. what kind of technology are you using? how advanced can it be to do shit like this? you'll have to be really persuasive to make him believe it's not technology, because at first, he'll think it's a joke and continue to pester you. and as much as the concept is hard to grasp at first for him, soon he just lets the shock die down and accepts it. he doesn't care enough to try and research it. there's so much weird shit happening in the world, magic is probably the least shocking thing he'd encounter

but it's not that he doesn't care about you or your powers. it might seem like it, but you're fascinating. he can't just shrug you off. and he has to admit, the fact that you're ready to hunt down his childhood bullies and curse them into oblivion really gets him hot and bothered under the collar. also, be ready for ridiculous petnames and terrible jokes. also, be ready for him to ask you if you can do this or that based on the games he played, especially dnd. he's a nerd, and he wants to know what you "specialize" in, what's your area of expertise, what exactly can you do

[jonny-be-gewd]

Does Aidan play a main role in Mayor of Kingstown s2? Thanks in advance!

To answer your question honestly: nope, not even close. We're five episodes into this season and so far he has appeared in four(or maybe 3, I can't remember) but he's only gotten one scene in each of the episodes and those scenes are never very long at all. The scene in Episode 5 has been his longest thus far this season.

I'm a bit disappointed. Last season was pretty much the same, though I think he appeared in less episodes last season, but Aidan said that they would be delving further into Milo and you would get to know him more in Season 2. So of course I hoped that would mean he would get more screen time. More than likely Aidan himself didn’t know for sure and was just hoping like we all were.

I mean, maybe they had planned to flesh the character out little by little over time. I'm not sure, but now I'm worried we may not even get the chance to find out. With Jeremy Renner being badly injured I think the future of the series is in jeopardy. Especially since it's not that well known and I don't think it's pulling in tons of fans, so them canceling it wouldn't come as a surprise at all.

I was so hoping he'd get a decent sized part in this series because he looks so much more like himself in it as opposed to KIN. That's not to say he doesn't look handsome in KIN, he looks very handsome, he just doesn't look like Aidan. However, the two things I really appreciate about KIN is that he gets a lot more screen time and he gets to use his real accent, which doesn't happen anywhere close to enough.

If you're asking to see if it's worth subscribing to Paramount+, I can't really answer that for you. I love the man and will watch any and everything he does, no matter how small the part. The only time I won't pay for something of his to see is if it's just not possible for me to, like it's only released in certain countries or not at all. Like Pickups. So my answer to if it's worth it will always be YES.

But I understand that there are more casual fans than myself (and I'm not saying that's bad, we all have our absolute #1 fave and many have a list of other people they keep tabs on or as I call them, side pieces). But listen, I truly do NOT understand why the whole world isn't in love with him. I can't wrap my head around it. He's perfect, it makes no sense. Nine years ago I took one look and I haven't been the same since.

BUT! if for some reason beyond all comprehension, he's a side piece for you like Tom Ellis is to me, then I would say that it's probably not worth subscribing to a channel you otherwise have no use for.

And once again, I apologize for replying to you with a novel. See what I mean people?! It's impossible for me to keep most of my replies short and sweet. Ugh. I did a short and sweet reply the other day so that's probably my limit on short and sweet for the month. Or the quarter, not sure which.

[96thdayofrage]

What is Critical Race Theory?

Basically, Critical Race Theory is a way of using race as a lens through which one can critically examine social structures. While initially used to study law, like most critical theory, it emerged as a lens through which one could understand and change politics, economics and society as a whole. Richard Delgado and Jean Stefancic’s book, Critical Race Theory: An Introduction, describes the movement as: “a collection of activists and scholars engaged in studying and transforming the relationship among race, racism, and power.”

Kimberlé Crenshaw, one of the founding members of the movement, says Critical Race Theory is more than just a collective group. She calls it: “a practice—a way of seeing how the fiction of race has been transformed into concrete racial inequities.”

It’s much more complex than that, which is why there’s an entire book about it.

Can you put it in layman’s terms?

Sure.

Former economics professor (he prefers the term “wypipologist”) Michael Harriot, who used Critical Race Theory to teach “Race as an Economic Construct,” explained it this way:

Race is just some shit white people made up.

Nearly all biologists, geneticists and social scientists agree that there is no biological, genetic or scientific foundation for race. But, just because we recognize the lack of a scientific basis for race doesn’t mean that it is not real. Most societies are organized around agreed-upon principles and values that smart people call “social constructs.” It’s why Queen Elizabeth gets to live in a castle and why gold is more valuable than iron pyrite. Constitutions, laws, political parties, and even the value of currency are all real and they’re shit people made up.

To effectively understand anything we have to understand its history and what necessitated its existence. Becoming a lawyer requires learning about legal theory and “Constitutional Law.” A complete understanding of economics include the laws of supply and demand, why certain metals are considered “precious,” or why paper money has value. But we can’t do that without critically interrogating who made these constructs and who benefitted from them.

One can’t understand the political, economic and social structure of America without understanding the Constitution. And it is impossible to understand the Constitution without acknowledging that it was devised by 39 white men, 25 of whom were slave owners. Therefore, any reasonable understanding of America begins with the critical examination of the impact of race and slavery on the political, economic and social structure of this country.

That’s what Critical Race Theory does.

How does CRT do that?

It begins with the acknowledgment that the American society’s foundational structure serves the needs of the dominant society. Because this structure benefits the members of the dominant society, they are resistant to eradicating or changing it, and this resistance makes this structural inequality.

Critical Race Theory also insists that a neutral, “color-blind” policy is not the way to eliminate America’s racial caste system. And, unlike many other social theories, CRT is an activist movement, which means it doesn’t just seek to understand racial hierarchies, it also seeks to eliminate them.

How would CRT eliminate that? By blaming white people?

This is the crazy part. It’s not about blaming anyone.

Instead of the idiotic concept of colorblindness, CRT says that a comprehensive understanding of any aspect of American society requires an appreciation of the complex and intricate consequences of systemic inequality. And, according to CRT, this approach should inform policy decisions, legislation and every other element in society.

Take something as simple as college admission, for instance. People who “don’t see color” insist that we should only use neutral, merit-based metrics such as SAT scores and grades. However, Critical Race Theory acknowledges that SAT scores are influenced by socioeconomic status, access to resources and school quality. It suggests that colleges can’t accurately judge a student’s ability to succeed unless they consider the effects of the racial wealth gap, redlining, and race-based school inequality. Without this kind of holistic approach, admissions assessments will always favor white people.

CRT doesn’t just say this is racist, it explains why these kinds of race-neutral assessments are bad at assessing things.

What’s wrong with that?

Remember all that stuff I said the “material needs of the dominant society?” Well, “dominant society” means “white people.” And when I talked about “racial hierarchies,” that meant “racism.” So, according to Critical Race Theory, not only is racism an ordinary social construct that benefits white people, but it is so ordinary that white people can easily pretend it doesn’t exist. Furthermore, white people who refuse to acknowledge and dismantle this unremarkable, racist status quo are complicit in racism because, again, they are the beneficiaries of racism.

But, because white people believe racism means screaming the n-word or burning crosses on lawns, the idea that someone can be racist by doing absolutely nothing is very triggering. Let’s use our previous example of the college admissions system.

White people’s kids are more likely to get into college using a racist admissions system. But the system has been around so long that it has become ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that we actually think SAT scores mean shit. And white people uphold the racist college admissions system—not because they don’t want Black kids to go to college—because they don’t want to change admission policies that benefit white kids.

Is that why they hate Critical Race Theory?

Nah. They don’t know what it is.

Whenever words “white people” or “racism” are even whispered, Caucasian Americans lose their ability to hear anything else. If America is indeed the greatest country in the world, then any criticism of their beloved nation is considered a personal attack—especially if the criticism comes from someone who is not white.

They are fine with moving toward a “more perfect union” or the charge to “make America great again.” But an entire field of Black scholarship based on the idea that their sweet land of liberty is inherently racist is too much for them to handle.

However, if someone is complicit in upholding a racist policy—for whatever reason—then they are complicit in racism. And if an entire country’s resistance to change—for whatever reason —creates more racism, then “racist” is the only way to accurately describe that society.

If they don’t know what it is, then how can they criticize it?

Have you met white people?

When has not knowing stuff ever stopped them from criticizing anything? They still think Colin Kaepernick was protesting the anthem, the military and the flag. They believe Black Lives Matter means white lives don’t. There aren’t any relevant criticisms other than they don’t like the word “racism” and “white people” anywhere near each other.

People like Ron DeSantis and Tom Cotton call it “cultural Marxism,” which is a historical dog whistle thrown at the civil rights movement, the Black Power movement and even the anti-lynching movement after World War I. They also criticize CRT’s basic use of personal narratives, insisting that a real academic analysis can’t be based on individually subjective stories.

Why wouldn’t that be a valid criticism?

Well, aren’t most social constructs centered in narrative structures? In law school, they refer to these individual stories as “legal precedent.” In psychology, examining a personal story is called “psychoanalysis.” In history, they call it...well, history. Narratives are the basis for every religious, political or social institution.

I wish there was a better example of an institution or document built around a singular narrative. It would change the entire constitution of this argument—but sadly, I can’t do it.

Jesus Christ, I wish I could think of one! That would be biblical!

Why do they say Critical Race Theory is not what Martin Luther King Jr. would have wanted?

You mean the Martin Luther King Jr. who conservatives also called divisive, race-baiting, anti-American and Marxist? The one whose work CRT is partially built upon? The King whose words the founders of Critical Race Theory warned would be “co-opted by rampant, in-your-face conservatism?” The MLK whose “content of their character” white people love to quote?

Martin Luther King Jr. literally encapsulated CRT by saying:

In their relations with Negroes, white people discovered that they had rejected the very center of their own ethical professions. They could not face the triumph of their lesser instincts and simultaneously have peace within. And so, to gain it, they rationalized—insisting that the unfortunate Negro, being less than human, deserved and even enjoyed second class status.

They argued that his inferior social, economic and political position was good for him. He was incapable of advancing beyond a fixed position and would therefore be happier if encouraged not to attempt the impossible. He is subjugated by a superior people with an advanced way of life. The “master race” will be able to civilize him to a limited degree, if only he will be true to his inferior nature and stay in his place.

White men soon came to forget that the Southern social culture and all its institutions had been organized to perpetuate this rationalization. They observed a caste system and quickly were conditioned to believe that its social results, which they had created, actually reflected the Negro’s innate and true nature.

That guy?

I have no idea.

Will white people ever accept Critical Race Theory?

Yes, one day I hope that Critical Race Theory will be totally disproven.

Wait...why?

Well, history cannot be erased. Truth can never become fiction. But there is a way for white people to disprove this notion.

Derrick Bell, who is considered to be the father of Critical Race Theory, notes that the people who benefit from racism have little incentive to eradicate it. Or, as Martin Luther King Jr. said: “We must also realize that privileged groups never give up their privileges voluntarily.”

So, if white people stopped being racist, then the whole thing falls apart!

From your lips to God’s ears.

[breath-of-the-hobbies]

A Return to Darkness Ch. 2

(Chapter 2 of the fan-fic idea I’m playing with. Zelda awakens underground and attempts to find a way out, and Link has a bad day. Chapter 1 here.)

The smell was the first thing to break through Zelda’s unconsciousness. Judging from the acidic yet musty reek and the burning sensation all over her body, she had a bed of malice to thank for cushioning her fall. The darkness was so complete that she had to blink furiously to even be sure that her eyes were open.

She took stock, fumbling at her hip until she found the Sheikah Slate. It lit a soft circle of light at her touch, but the screen fizzed and crackled, displaying only glitched swirls of color. Broken ribs, concussion, sprained knee, she estimated as she maneuvered dizzily to her feet and retrieved her sword from where it lay nearly engulfed in malice some feet away.

“Link?” She whispered, acutely aware of the monsters they had encountered in the past months and unwilling to alert them to her present vulnerability. She swung the slate’s light across the rubble-filled ground, but her companion was nowhere to be seen. Ganon’s corpse was also absent, presumably still lying in the cavern above her.

Recalling her last sight of Link sent a stab of pain through her chest to join the throb of her ribs. The image of his anguished eyes and furrowed brow as he put aside everything to lunge towards her was imprinted indelibly in her mind. Was he still up above? Had the malice— she forced her mind away before she could complete the fatalistic thought. She had watched Link die once already, and the idea of losing him again was enough to make her breath shorten into panicked gasps. Come on Zelda, you held your own against Ganon for one hundred years. You can crawl out of a damn cave. She retrieved and lit her torch, then limped around the perimeter of the hole, leaning heavily on her sword.

It didn’t take long before she was certain that the floor above had collapsed into a nearly exact copy of the one holding Ganon’s body. The geometric carvings on the walls were the same as what she had seen in the moments before everything went wrong, and a single exit led to a path descending away and down. With no clear way up into the abyssal darkness, and no ability to teleport thanks to the malfunctioning slate, she had no choice but to venture into the tunnel, unaware of the eyes observing her retreating form from the darkness beyond her torch’s light.

It was impossible to know exactly how long she spent wandering, but Zelda came to time her rests with the regular shaking of the earth around her. Despite her newfound mistrust of the tunnels’ structural integrity, the walls and ceiling held strong around her. She fell asleep each rumbling with the spirals of the wall etchings spinning behind her eyelids.

After one such rest, she awoke with a sudden revelation dredged from the free association of her dreams. It was a memory, something Impa’s grandmother had told them when they were children. She had spoken of an ancient civilization, the Zonai, that had disappeared mysteriously long ago, leaving only ruins and secrets. Link had already mentioned that the carvings appeared Zonai in origin, resembling places he had seen in his travels, but now Zelda remembered Gran’s words. “The Zonai were not simply to be feared for their fierce prowess in arms. They were also brilliant magicians with technical advances rivaling even our best Sheikah technology. Had they not disappeared, our world would be much changed from how it appears today.” Then Gran had pulled a carved stone out of her sleeve and shown it to the children. She ran her finger along its swirls in a series of swoops, and when she finished, the entire thing began to glow an eye-searing turquoise. The young and bright-eyed Zelda had oohed and aahed, but the rather more battered young woman in the present bared her teeth in a wolfish grin and heaved herself stiffly to her feet, sweeping the light from the sad remains of her torch across the patterns that had haunted her for months.

There! she spotted a central swirl, one that all the others in the area seemed to radiate from. It took a few tries to emulate the pattern she had seen over a century ago, and she began to question herself, her mind inevitably returning to familiar paths of self-doubt. When she was almost ready to give up, the spiral lit. With a flash and a smell of ozone, radiance spread outwards, spilling into every line of the carvings until Zelda was blinded.

The earth began to shake more strongly than ever, knocking her to the ground. She curled into a protective ball as chunks of wall and ceiling crumbled around her, her stomach lurching in equal parts fear and motion sickness. After what felt like an eternity, the world calmed. The bedraggled princess pushed herself to a seated position with a groan, blinking purple afterimages from her sight. The lit carvings had settled into a calmer glow, and because of this it took her a moment to realize that a pinprick of natural light now shone at the far end of the tunnel.

Heart leaping, paying no mind to her shrieking knee, Zelda set off at a run towards freedom, her excited thoughts jumbling with ideas of newly collapsed walls forming impromptu exits. She was so quick that only reflexive bracing of her feet and scraping of her hands on the tunnel walls were able to bring her to a gut-wrenching stop as dislodged stones ricocheted over the edge of an impossible precipice.

Wind whipped her hair as she stared in utter disbelief down, down to the familiar landscape of Hyrule far below. She was in the sky.

***

Link had eaten some pretty terrible food in the past year, but after a week of clumsily cleaned mushrooms boiled with rice, he almost preferred his more dubious gastronomical experiments. At least those had some zest to them.

Although his arm was slowly regaining strength, his dexterity was lagging far behind. Stringing a bow was still out of the question, and the one time he encountered a boar in the woods, he had been mown down in humiliating fashion before he could even swing his blade. The mushrooms and occasional carrot were a far less likely source of embarrassment.

The entire loss of his right arm would almost have been easier to cope with than his present state; the energy pouring into the ancient tech and the rot constantly trying to push onwards through his body made even the shortest climb, swim, or even run into an exhausting task. Swinging a blade with his left hand was one thing: getting knocked out after falling out of a tree was another.

Besides the draining tech and the gnawing corruption, there was a third issue with his arm that Link couldn’t quite piece together yet. He had absolute faith in Purah—despite her eccentricities—and when she told him that she had added the Stasis Rune to his arm, he had no reason to doubt her. However, when he activated the rune to halt the fleeing boar in a last-ditch attempt at meat for dinner, it failed to stop it at all. In fact, the animal actually began running backwards, nearly pummeling a dumbfounded Link a second time.

He wasn’t sure how Purah could have made such a glaring mistake, and he honestly couldn’t picture a time when making his opponent move backwards would help him do more than get a second to breathe. Once he had found Zelda, he would have to go back and ask the scientist about it. Full but not happy about it, Link rolled up in a horse blanket and fell into a fitful sleep.

He was awoken by an agonizing buzzing sensation in his right arm, as though it was being continuously electrocuted. The entire limb, from fingertip to shoulder, was shining turquoise like his own personal monster beacon. His horse whinnied and pranced in distress as Link shook his arm like a man possessed. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied, he would have noticed the ground vibrating beneath him, but by the time the glowing light and electric tingling subsided, everything was calm again.

Now thoroughly awake, the perplexed hero broke camp and led his mount back to the trail in the false dawn. It wasn’t much further to the edge of the Great Plateau, the only thing keeping Link from reaching it the night before being his newly abysmal stamina. But as he trudged up the last rise, he was sure he had gotten turned around in the half-light. Nothing looked right. The ground was churned up and littered with boulders the size of houses, and whole landmarks had shifted and changed.

The sun broke over the horizon as Link crested the hill. He was overlooking the very same vista he had first seen without comprehension or recognition after the healing sleep, yet the view could not have been more different. The plains and forests in front of Hyrule Castle were simply...gone. The ground was carved out as though miners had been hollowing the earth for centuries. After taking in this sight, ice water freezing his heart, Link’s eyes followed the progression of destruction to the foot of the castle itself. At first, the reappearance of malice clouds encircling the base obscured the truly bizarre unreality of the situation.

The entire castle was floating several hundred feet above the ground.

Slowly, unbelievingly, almost unwillingly as though fearing what he would see, Link lifted his gaze to the sky. Far above, higher even than Vah Medoh had flown, floated hulking islands of earth.

He sat down hard, gulping back the frustration that closed his throat. His princess was further out of reach than she had ever been.

[varsitycult]

Shapeshifting: Solaris and True Alienation

          In Stanislaw Lem’s 1961 novel of the same name, Solaris is an alien planet that “materializes physical simulacra”— any members aboard the space station slowly circling the planet will begin to have interactions with figures from their pasts, those figures that left the greatest impact on their psyches. The ocean itself manifests many forms that fall under different categorization, such as mimoids, symmetriads, etc., which arise mostly as singular architectural feats and ever-evolving foamy, stretchy-then-solid, growing-and-shrinking structures that can be many miles in dimension; those that study these phenomena are called solaricists.            The study of Solaris developed from a more esoteric theorization of what the ocean actually “is”:

“For some time one popular view, eagerly disseminated by the press, was that the thinking ocean covering the whole of Solaris was a gigantic brain more advanced by millions of years than our own civilization, that it was some kind of “cosmic yogi,” a sage, omniscience incarnate, which had long ago grasped the futility of all action and for this reason was simply maintaining a categorical silence towards us.” (Lem)

          This evolved into a decidedly scientific investigation of how Solaris ‘works,’but no matter how many studies were done and how much a desire for First Contact might’ve been present aboard, the ocean didn't attempt to reveal anything about itself — to the crew, it seemingly only sought to essentially conduct psychological experiments on them by creating “empty” doppelgängers of critical figures from their pasts who cannot die.

          The book centers around Kris Kelvin, an at times neurotic, at times deeply detached psychologist. In his youth, he knew and was in a relationship with a young woman named Harey, who ultimately ended up killing herself after Kris ended their relationship and implied she was weak. Once Kris begins seeing, speaking and interacting with the simulacra of Harey, he questions his own sanity, and conducts experiments to prove to himself that he is sane — and when in the lab, realizes the other crew members have done the same. We never learn the details of the other crews simulacras beyond an interaction in the beginning of Kris’ stay, and fleeting glimpses of identifiers — but it is implied that they’re haunting enough to drive the crew to madness and suicide, such as in the case of Gibarian, a former professor of Kris’ and fellow crew member who committed suicide right before Kris arrived on the station.

           Harey is Kris’ appointed simulacra, or shapeshifter, if you will. What is a shapeshifter? Basically an entity with the ability to change into a different shape or form; It can be the act of a human turning into an animal (commonly seen in creatures such as werewolves, vampires and the like); an animal shapeshifting into a person; a person into a plant or object; and on, including gods turning into clouds, gods turning other gods into any myriad of animals or objects, etc. Shapeshifting is key in shamanic practice and totemism, and entails transformation into a different  f o r m, precipitated by an altered state of consciousness within the shaman, aided by substances, rhythmic driving, and the like:

“[S]hamanism and hypnosis … use … the same dissociative state of consciousness, which in shamanism is referred to as the shamanic journey, or ecstatic flight, and in hypnosis is called the hypnotic trance, or simply trance. Neurophysiological and empirical evidence support the view that the shamanic journey achieved without the use of hallucinogenic substances, that is, with the aid of musical instrumentation, chanting, and similar phenomena, elicits the same EEG profile as the hypnotic trance state. In addition, experiential phenomena characteristic of the shaman’s ecstatic flight, such as shapeshifting, contact with imaginal agents, and the like, can likewise be achieved in hypnotic trance” (Walter).

         
 For this entry, shapeshifting is one conscious entity shifting into another entity who is, by necessity, conscious to some degree. We find shapeshifters from stories that span the world and millennia — such as the character of Merlin from Arthurian Legend:

“In the Arthurian cycle, the wizard Merlin enchanted Uther Pendragon, making him look like the husband of Igraine so that she would gladly sleep with him. Merlin knew through augury that this mating would conceive the child who would later become King Arthur. One tool for accomplishing such shapeshifting was the spell known as fith-fath, used to transform one object into another and also to confer invisibility.” (472, Walter)

(I just really enjoy the word fith-fath)

          In the Cherokee tradition, there’s the story of the “Stone Coat,” a monster covered with scaly armor from head to toe who could take human form; Stone Coat ate the livers of his victims while in the shape of an old woman, after puncturing their skulls with a crooked finger (136, Young). Stone Coat took the form of an orphan, who then ate other children’s livers, and was subsequently banned from town. Knowing Stone Coat is approaching, 7 menstruating women lay along the path in wait — he vomits blood crossing them, and, knowing he is dying, asks the people to build a fire and burn him. As he burned, he sang songs, songs that eventually became traditional Cherokee songs; “His death, he said, would unleash disease in the world, but the songs he taught them would cure it.”

          In the case of Old Norse, with regards to Berserkers, shapeshifting more closely approximates a shared state of consciousness generated among animal cultists, leading to murder and rape under the influence of rage:

“It is proposed by some authors that the berserkers drew their power from the bear and were devoted to the bear cult, which was once widespread across the northern hemisphere … To "go berserk" was to "hamask", which translates as "change form", in this case, as with the sense "enter a state of wild fury.”

          In Asia, the kitsune (🇯🇵), huli jing (🇨🇳), or kumiho (🇰🇷) are mythical foxes with 9 tails, that are at least 1,000-years old and have attained the boon of shapeshifting. These creatures are known for turning into young women who eat the hearts or livers of young men. In Korea, the kumiho is always malignant, while the Japanese and Chinese variants are morally ambiguous. Across cultures, if a kitsune can last 1,000 days without killing or eating a human, they can become fully human.

          There are myriad reasons why Solaris is a unique shapeshifter experience, considering shapeshifting so often relies on either mythical entities with mythical powers, or altered states. With Solaris, we have an “entity” who can never be perceived directly, and we never learn how Solaris does what it does — Lem intentionally chose an ocean as to avoid personification and thus satisfaction of “First Contact.” Solaris creates an experience of True Alienation — because Solaris can “[see] into the deepest recesses of human minds and then [bring] their dreams to life,” but the observer knows that wish-fulfillment is impossible, making the experience of Solaris a deeply disturbing one which highlights the limits of our physical systems and of our human comprehension.

          We never come to understand the intent of the manifestations that haunt the crew observing Solaris, though later in the book, Kris ventures out onto the planet itself for the first time ever, after Harey has finally died indefinitely of her own accord; This experience changes his perception of the planet itself, realizing it is actually slightly timid, if not a bit naive, observing and reacting to new information, interacting momentarily with Kris’ hand. In the absence of understanding, there was forgiveness of the planet itself, and the psychological torment endured by Kris and the simulacras.

          Often, whether in literature about shamanic rituals or on galaxy-🧠 backwater forums, you will find discussion of shapeshifting paired with possession. Shapeshifting and possession are parallel phenomena, though possession is internal. Harey is both real and not real simultaneously; Harey knows she is and knows she isn’t; and Harey can never be far away from Kris, at least in the beginning. If Kris is not visible to Harey, she will enter a fugue state until she is reunited with Kris again, at times causing herself fatal physical harm to remove obstacles to him — this possession “reveals” Harey to truly be Solaris itself, her body receiving a hard reset via near-death experiences.

          In the beginning of the novel, Harey has a truly amnesiac response to notions of “the past” — she quickly creates an excuse for her behavior or her origins whenever she materializes on the station. As time goes on, Harey noticeably becomes perturbed by her inability to know herself and comes to realize that she is not “Harey”at all. As opposed to following the natural progression of a developing consciousness, arguably going from tabula rasa “nothing” to “something,” Harey goes from believing she is “something” to knowing she is “nothing,” a figment created by the parsed memories of another living being, in a way mirroring terrestrial Harey’s timeline.

          Solaris functions as the embodiment of what Rudolf Otto called the Mysterium Tremendum et Fascinans; the numinous, the unknown. Under electron microscope examination, blood samples from simulacras are devoid of electrons, instead being composed of neutrinos, and a specialized machine is ultimately needed to kill Harey at the end of the book because of this. Nothing like Solaris has ever been seen before, let alone conceived of by human minds, and when 106 members of the space station die in one freak accident while exploring a spontaneous formation on Solaris long before Kris ever arrives, humans subject it to nukes in “retaliation”. Humans had a stronger desire to destroy the unknown than to allow the unknown to exist at all. But Solaris was seemingly unscathed, and afterwards, public interest in Solaris waned, and the simulacras began to appear onboard the station.

           What makes the unknown of Solaris more exaggerated is its observation, even experimentation, on the crew. It is always learning about You — You cannot learn about It. And we can never know if it is learning from its experimenting, if its experimenting is leading to something, some conclusion, at all. It becomes a true black mirror, reflecting back at the crew that which has psychically harmed or affected them the most to try to understand that hurt, because hurt sticks the most :’ ).

           Very often in shapeshifter stories, the concluding action is to kill the shapeshifter because it is deemed malevolent. Shapeshifting is obscure, it is dark, and it is unknowable except to those shapeshifters with access to it. Shapeshifting physicalizes the Shadow, and conceptualizes the existential chicken-and-egg of knowing decay, death and rebirth are inevitable, just maybe not in the ways we’d hoped — bask in the Shadow and temper the compulsion to kill the darkness.

Bibliography:

Lem, Stanisław. “Solaris,” Walker, 1964.

Walter, Mariko, and Eva Jane Neumann. “Shamanism: An Encyclopedia of World Beliefs, Practices, and Culture,” ABC-CLIO, 2004.

Young, William A. “Quest for Harmony: Native American Spiritual Traditions,” Hackett Pub. Co., 2006.

& Wikipedia lul

[scotianostra]

SONNY LISTON ON SCOTLAND (1963) - "I am warm here,” he said when he was in Scotland "I am among warm people and I feel that and react to it. When I return to the United States I will be cold again, for the people there are cold to me now and have treated me badly in the past."

By Stuart Cosgrove

When Sonny Liston’s dead body was discovered in a Las Vegas bedroom it was already decomposing. His death has never been satisfactorily explained, was he a victim of a random attack, the wrong end of a mob hit or self-imposed drugs overdose. The mystery and Liston’s dark reputation has calcified with time. It is impossible to pick up a book on the history of boxing without Liston dominating the list of fearsome and lawless champions.

What is not in doubt was that Sonny Liston was the most feared heavyweight of a golden era. He was an unreformed street robber, a jailed felon and brute of man who only took up boxing in a penitentiary in Missouri. Liston came to personify the macabre criminality of the ghetto and in a now infamous quote, the Village Voice critic Joe Flaherty once described him as “a blatant mother in a fucker’s game.”

The history of boxing will always contest that Sonny Liston paved the way for Muhammad Ali when he threw a title fight against the then Cassius Clay to satisfy a mafia fix and deliver fast money to the mob. He is now seen as the summit of boxing corruption and the dark side of African-American street life, but what few have ever ruminated on is Sonny Liston’s thoughts on Scotland and his brief transformative experience in ‘Bella Caledonia’.

Liston came to Scotland briefly in 1963. It was a short but hugely memorable visit where he struck up many friendships and was pursued daily by the nascent paparazzi of the day, drinking in Glasgow bars, sampling whisky from distillery vats and most spectacularly of all taking to streets in a gigantic kilt requisitioned form a retired drum major. He had come as part of a boxing exhibition and fought on the under-card of a British title fight at Paisley Ice Rink where Scottish flyweight Walter McGowan defended his Commonwealth title against the diminutive Jamaican Killer Salomon. Liston stole the show by lifting both boxers aloft in either arm, still dressed outrageously in full highland dress and swearing allegiance to the McBeth clan tartan.

One moment that enthralled the Scottish media was when Liston, a rock-hard black man kissed the blonde majorette of the Braemar Girl Pipers, a kiss deemed illegal or immoral in the southern states of Liston’s childhood.

Liston fell in love with Scotland and described it as the friendliest place on earth comparing it unfavorably to his native America where he was reviled as a criminal and where he had been the victim of savage racism, as the child of a sharecropping family of thirteen children in Arkansas. “I am warm here,” he told the Scottish press-pack, “because I am among warm people and I feel that and react to it. When I return to the United States I will be cold again, for the people there are cold to me now and have treated me badly in the past.”

Liston’s hatred of America was in part stoked by the civil rights disputes of the era and the institutionalized racism of the deep south but it went beyond race. When he won the heavyweight championship of the world, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored Peoples (NAACP) the most powerful black organization of the era sided with the incumbent champion Floyd Patterson characterizing him as a gentle and articulate black man, and casting Liston as a charmless hoodlum and convicted robber. He had been rejected publicly by his own people.

Sonny Liston’s kilt was promotional schtick and his attempts to play the bagpipes in a Glasgow street were woeful but there is little doubt that Scotland connected with him in ways that his native America did not. He had grown up an obsessive fan of old school R&B music, trained to Jimmy Forrest’s ‘Night Train’ and liked to sip J&B whiskey listening to Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Loch Lomond’, and arrived with a bizarre notion that Scotland was a land of wonder. Paradoxically, his family could trace its tangled and illiterate roots back to slavery and to a Scottish farmer Martin Liston who owned slaves in Choctaw County, Mississippi.

Liston love for Scotland was not short-lived. On his return to the USA he looked into gaining Scottish citizenship (although no such independent identity existed) and tried to adopt Peter (Petie) Keenan Jr. the son of the Scottish promoter, convincing the boy’s parents to allow the boy to travel to Las Vegas to spend Christmas with the childless Liston and his wife in Denver. The young Keenan to America to be treated like their own son, lavished with Christmas gifts and met the legendary Joe Louis who by then was a down and out heroin addict.

Liston arrived in a Scotland where ignorance and racism were just beneath the surface and to a city scarred by its own local pathologies. The Bible John murders were yet to happen but Ian Brady had just left Shawlands Academy and moved south to Manchester where he had committed the first of the Moors Murders. But darkness was easily outshone by a solidarity of well being and a willingness to be open to visitors. Although the myth of Scottish friendliness can be sentimentalized there is no question that Liston felt something special that he had not experienced before in a brutal life at the savage end of violent sport – it was a warmth and humanity.

We have precious few studies of how humanity works collectively but it was there again on the streets of Glasgow during the Commonwealth Games and in the aftermath of the horrendous tragedies at Clutha Vaults and George Square. We only casually understand this lived and welcoming common-weal a power that neither de-industrialization nor austerity has successfully chased away. Apart from fine words from agencies like VisitScotland there has never been a comprehensive audit of Scotland’s deeper values, those underlying characteristics which are not measurable by the price of oil, or by the board of Standard Life. They are the standards of life frequently forgotten when raw politics come into play.

For one week in 1963 the most dangerous and hated man in the world felt he had found his home. When he finally left Scotland, by his own admission he left a better person, determined to return. Sadly, Liston never returned and instead was dragged deeper into the heartless gangsterism of Las Vegas where he eventually died, alone.

[jksangelic]

defanged (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: smut, fluff, werewolf!au, a/b/o au, pwp

↳ pairing: mates werewolf!reader x werewolf/alpha!hoseok

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, dom themes, breathplay, knotting, rough play, impregnation kink, overall general ”werewolf” smut themes, personality change, probably an uncomfortable amount of squishy mate talk

↳ summary:  hoseok is an easy mate—as such that there are moments you question if he’s just human. so when his sudden spike of aggression emerges, you do your best to keep this unknown man at bay. or, alternatively: young alpha hoseok has started teething and he’s being a bratty puppy about it.

↳ note: ok so if you were with me a few months ago you would know that this is actually a collab fic with a couple other writers but life happens and here we are now *cowboy emoji*. this is really important to me bc they’re such *clench fist* great people and i’m happy i received such an opportunity to collab with them (’: pls make sure to rb/like/visit our collab masterlist if you want to be in-the-know of when they post their parts!

also i wanted to play around with the humorous sides of what werewolves might go thru (-: so, like, short attention spans and hating loud noises and typical big dog stuff. with the teething, just imagine that their growth stages are prolonged because they’re, idk, maybe immortal or something lol

(i…… i’m not used to writing fantasy can u tell)

((gif isn’t mine + his side profile ;-;))

↳ words: 9k+

You could hear every miniscule thread snap and unwind from themselves, a simple task such as painting your nails becoming less relaxing than it should be.

“Hobi,” you mumble once. You swipe down your thumb again, carmine red smoothing over brightly and with utmost delicacy. He doesn’t listen, another squeaking grind of his teeth against the material of his sweatshirt followed by a snapsnap.

“Hobi,” you say a little louder, flinching from annoyance and staining your cuticle with the polish. You curse your discontents, waiting for him to look at you but only meeting a turned neck and eyes still glued to his phone, an I’m listening portrayed by his demeanor but not really meaning it.

He chews hard on the neckline, a solid rip completely tearing several inches down his chest, eyes widening and attention finally caught when his chest is exposed hilariously.

“Hoseok!” you yell, slamming the closed bottle onto the coffee table and meeting his startled eyes, “I just bought that for you!”

He hopes to play it off and shrugs as you swipe it from his teeth, untwined fibers poking out sadly. You smooth your thumbs over the poor fabric, the third victim of his recent gnashing problem.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you ask sadly, a little more bummed about the beautiful sweatshirt than you should be.

He responds simply, “My gums itch.”

You roll your eyes at his childlike excuse, the full-sized man sitting cross-legged and distractedly in his corner of the couch with his phone paused on some game with horrendously annoying music. Was he really your alpha?

“Why don’t you do us some good and go hunting.” You offer, a lame excuse to get Hoseok out of your hair for a bit. It’s what you deserve. He rolls over with a harrumph, shoulder now bare from the growing tear in his clothing. It made you giggle slightly.

“I’m in pain and you’re laughing at me,” he deadpans, body static-still and stubborn more than ever.

Your breath fans his skin as you slither next to him, “I’m sorry, baby. Are you really hurting? Why don’t you go to the dentist?”

Hoseok pouts, taptaptapping away at his screen instead of looking at you, “I don’t want to go to the dentist. They just itch.” Even now, he licks over the burning sensation of his gums, clenching and grinding his teeth to ease the feeling in any way. You can hear the collisions of his canines, your own tingling uncomfortably from the sound.

You shake your head. “Maybe you’re teething,” you suggest in all seriousness. It wasn’t impossible; your kind’s lifespan certainly placing such life stages at seemingly unusual times. In any case, it would simply mean his canines were most likely growing longer and stronger.

He scoffs as if you’ve insulted him, “I’m well over my teething days, Y/N. They just itc—"

“Say that one more time and I’ll neuter you,” you huff. When he lacks a kinder response, you push yourself off the couch to tidy your bedroom instead. He clearly wasn’t in the mood to have a serious conversation with you at the moment, and despite its rarity, you could use your space.

Your mate was in no way irritable; in fact, Hoseok was one of the sunniest alpha’s you’ve ever encountered. His kindness differentiated him from others, bearing his mark (and one day, hopefully, his pups) certainly deeming you quite lucky. He was a soft lover above all, never making you feel as a subordinate or anything of the like.

Perhaps it’s why you two were clashing heads recently, his personality completely contradictory from his true self. Never does he ignore you, let alone snap at you.

Folding your clothes (and purposefully leaving his items in a pile on his side of the bed in spite), you exhale heavily and leave for the living room once again, disregarding your now smeared manicure.

Hoseok beams at the shoe aisle, producing more light than whatever was already lit in the store. Due to his “issue”, stopping by the mall was a given. Two more of his shirts and even one of your necklaces mangled and chewed up like he was the Tasmanian Devil.

Petting his hair fondly, you give him a nuzzle to his cheek, “I’ll be in the next store over, puppy. Come meet me when you’re done.” He nods happily, wide-frame glasses bobbing atop his pretty nose.

You beeline for the department store in hopes of purchasing a few extra things for yourself before Hoseok sniffs you out. It’s immediate heaven when you sift through the dresses, picking a few out and dangling them happily on your fingers before bouncing from rack to rack. By the time you reach the dressing rooms, your arm aches from the pile you’ve accumulated.

“Hey there, you can go ahead and take that first stall right there,” a man directs, tall and intimidating and rather fucking handsome, you think. “My name’s Jaebum. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll go grab it for you.”

You bat your lashes and mouth a Thanks before waltzing into your room, appreciating his kindness perhaps a little too much. Despite your complex and absolute relationship status, it didn’t hurt to peek at what’s on display. It was only right!

You try on more than what you even remembered picking out, velvets and satins and the softest of cottons all hugging you warmly with every piece, a bittersweet happiness when everything seemed to fit you perfectly. The last dress, though, is your only hiccup. Material skin-tight and ending just a little above your ankles; you harrumph. Almost a perfect streak.

Dress still on (at least it zipped), you peek through the door and spot handsome Bum at the front. “Psst, um, do you mind getting me a couple more sizes in this? I think it was near the wall to the right.”

He grins and nods, almost grateful of the fact that you asked him to do so. Why was he even in this section? Should it concern you?

You watch as he leaves, back muscles showcased quite lavishly in his pristinely pressed suit.

Should it be more concerning that it didn’t?

You take a moment to look at the dress once more, smoothing over the velvet that bunched snugly at your waist and checking out your own ass. The fabric might rip if you sneeze too hard but you look pretty damn splendid.

“Found a few more and got you another color as well,” Jaebum says upon return. You almost snap your neck away from the mirror, hoping he didn’t see you ogling your bum. What a speedy fellow.

You politely open the door wider and reach for the hangers, “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Jaebum doesn’t fully hand it to you though, briefly but noticeably skimming over your body, “I think that size is cute on you too. You have a really beautiful figure.”

Maybe it should concern you. You chuckle awkwardly and look elsewhere. Please just give me my dresses, you almost say, now self-conscious in your skin.

“It’s even better when she’s naked. I would know,” Hoseok near growls, appearing out of thin air. He swipes the hangers from behind Jaebum, who is surprised beyond all comprehension of the word, and pushes you back into the room. You’ve never seen him look so enraged, face serious and twitching as if he would shift at any given moment.

“Th-There aren’t allowed to be more than one person in a—,” Jaebum nervously starts from the other side before the door is slammed on his nose.

You didn’t even see Jaebum’s reaction, nor do you ponder it when Hoseok drops your beautiful dresses and thrusts your back against the mirror with his hand to your neck, deliberately making you yelp loud enough for others to hear. You recoil as he bares his fangs, sharp and taunting, threatening to devour you whole and you know this isn’t your Hobi.

He doesn’t get the chance for whatever else he had in store when pure vehemence engulfs you, daring to stand your ground with a low guttural snarl and shoving him off. Your strength is nothing to snicker at, his shoulders nearly hitting the other wall despite his stature.

“What’s wrong with you?” you didn’t even care if everyone in the damn store could hear you, “Don’t you dare touch me!”

Regret instantly arises in his eyes, his hands reaching out to comfort you in any way but hesitant in the warning. He would rather die than hurt you, he was sorry, he was so sorry.

Your body can feel his sorrow and want, itching to touch him in any way but you push it down. The little she-wolf in you whimpers as you struggle out of the dress and leave him alone in the stall, begging for you to go back and forgive him.

Jaebum stands, bewildered, outside of the rooms. He sure did rue the moment he ever made advances on you. Not a word is spoken as you pass by and exit the store.

It doesn’t make it any easier when Hoseok follows you closely. “Baby, I’m sorry. Please.”

“You were going to shift because of some stupid sales clerk! You could’ve gotten us in some deep shit with the order,” you scold, “We’re going home. Right now.” This was a double-edged sword, you didn’t even get to purchase anything. Though your mood is far too foul to continue.

“But I didn’t! No one saw anything. I just lost my cool for a second, I promise. I know better.” Even Hoseok strains to keep up your pace, car already in view and goddamn you walk fast.

“Do you? Are you seriously justifying your actions? You need to uphold your responsibilities, Hoseok. You’re not new to this.” He finds that he despises when you lecture him this way, gums and skin and everything prickly and he wish he could gnaw on something right about now.

It was odd to tell him these things, taking into consideration that his role is considerably higher than yours and that he hardly ever faults as an alpha. If there wasn’t something going on biologically, what else could it be?

He’s obviously straining to keep his composure now, jaw slacked and knuckles cracking in his fist, “How am I supposed to do that now? It won’t happen again. It’s over.”

“Then what about your shitty mood swings? We don’t argue, Hoseok. You’re not mean, you’re not easily agitated, and you’re not a fucking paper  shredder. Neither are you aggressive to your own mate,” you throw in his face, unsurprised when he cowers again at the thought. It’s like the man was on his period.

Now that you recall, the last time you’ve ever seen him so angry at you is when you watched Endgame without him, and that should say enough. This was just all so new and unbecoming of someone with his level of reputation.

“You know I didn’t mean to do that. I never want to hurt you…” he leads as you beat him to the driver’s side of the car, watching him over the hood for him to finish his sentence, “I’m just—”

“You what, Hoseok?”

He jostles the door handle a few times, a rep of unsettling clacks making him uneasy.  

“Can you unlock the car?”

“You what?” you say a little louder, entirely avoiding his question.

“Goddammit,” he hisses, “Just let me in and we can talk about it when we get home.” You scan his face in search of anything. For the truth. For him to own up to what it is. What you get is nothing.

So you smile, “No.”

He stands cluelessly as you unlock your door and hop in, starting the car with a satisfying roll and opening his window just enough to see his addled facial expression.

“What are you doing?” he deadpans.

“If you won’t admit it then you obviously don’t take me seriously, and if you won’t take me seriously then I’ll take my car home by myself. So, toodles!”

He smirks nervously, slender fingers sifting through his hair, “Y/N, c’mon. Just let me in.” He’s even more staggered when you start reversing out of your spot. Eyes widening hilariously, he cusses under his breath as he walks cautiously towards the door.

“Have a fun run, baby. Better get home soon,” you feign pity, “looks like it’s going to start raining pretty soon.”

“We live an hour away!”

You drive down the row, turning on your signal just in case someone needed to know. Shucks, you were such a good driver, even in the parking lot.

Hoseok thinks otherwise, anger and panic so vivid that you can feel it from this distance. Walking Time Bomb even begins to jog, not willing to risk your bluff.

“Okay! Okay, I admit it. I may be going through something…” his wavering voice trickles into your head. “You’re right.’

You let him catch up to you, eyes shifty and fingers fiddling. “Hi, darling. Can you say that one more time? In person?” His chest puffs.

“I already said it once,” he begs.

Was his pride this important? Did the strangled mutt deep down change your Hoseok for the worst? An impatient car behind you honks and you shrug.

“You’re making people wait. I’m going to leave.”

“Jesus fucking—okay. I think I’m teething. Or something involving my dental state. It’s making me fucking grumpy and it’s painful and I want to punch a fucking wall because it’s stupid that this phase is so late.” You unlock his door mid-sentence, his body falling into his seat before he continues to blabber on.

“Oh, little puppy,” you slide your sunglasses from atop your head down to the bridge of your nose, “Don’t be so sensitive. ‘S like a human adult getting braces.”

The week passes by agonizingly slow. And that wasn't necessarily because Hoseok bitched and complained, throwing temper tantrums when the remote had fallen between the couch cushions or throwing his pants stormily when they would catch on his ankles and make him hobble about like a disabled chicken.

Or maybe it was because of that.

You dare to creak the door to his den (pun intended), having locked himself in such confinement to work through the paperwork that's been piling on his mahogany desk for days. He looks worn around the eyes, long brown hair pushed back with his fake reading glasses. You knock three times as if he couldn't already sense your presence. When he looks at you through his lashes, he nods for you to proceed.

"Hi, baby. How's the work going?" you ask with a honey-dipped edge.

He shrugs, "A lot of affairs from other packs that I have to go over. I should be done soon."

You slink behind his office chair and wrap your arms around his shoulders, "Mm, why don't you take a break and have a nice little bath with me?" He doesn't budge one inch, straightening out a stack of papers before stapling them neatly and tucking them into one of his drawers.

"I need to finish this. I've been pushing it back until the last minute."

Rolling him out a bit, you slide onto his lap and rest on his chest. Your touch always lulls a serene sensitivity from his skin, a natural effect that only you are capable of. But his muscles remain taut. Bones stiff and budging none whatsoever. Stuttering, you try again, "You've been working for hours. I'm lonely. Just an hour--,"

"Y/N. I'm warning you. Get off."

She-wolf unconsciously warns you to stand down upon this statement. Was he being serious? He's warning you? You search his blank face, waiting for him to crack a smile or lift you up and attack you with kisses. When he doesn't, you test the waters.

Your nails scratch the bare skin under his shirt, "H-Hoseokie, we haven't had sex in so long," you whine. Invading his space, however, only sets him off more.

He growls, deep and meant to be menacing. It takes brutal force to push yourself to move, a weight halting your ministrations. His word, no matter how rare it be, was your law. Do you dare defy that?

You unbutton his pants the same time he threatens, "Continue any further and see what happens." He's breathier than normal and that gives you some satisfaction. He was your mate, after all. Eternal fulfillment was your duty.

The feeling of his heavy and growing bulge, nestling in the crook of his thigh, is a success all in its own. You purr and rub your legs together, licking at Hoseok's neck lovingly and waiting for him to give in. "Hobi, you're already--ah!"

Your view spins as Hoseok scruffs you to his desk, cold wood pressed to your cheek and wrists somehow pinned behind you. Yiping in fear, you struggle in his harsh imprisonment.

"You don't fucking listen," he complains, voice balancing on the line between speaking and yelling.

"Hoseok! L-Let me g-go--," you start before he grinds himself into your ass, boner prominent and angry as it prods. He replaces the hand to your neck with his mouth, laving and suckling all the way down your shoulder.

"Can't do that. I warned you and you disobeyed me. You disobey your alpha, Y/N?"

"No, I'm sorry--," you squeak before your dress is thrown over your back and a sharp slap comes down onto your ass.

You don’t believe the sound that comes out of your throat, pressing your thighs together and wiggling the pain away. “J-Jung Hoseok! What is—” Another slap, harder than the first.

The nerves tingle all the way down to your toes as your eyes roll back. You moan once more, unsolicited and without restraint. Hoseok is content with your reaction, not expecting you to squirm so nicely because of your punishment.

"You like this, don't you? I can smell you leaking like some submissive whore," he snarls with an edge of disappointment. You're beyond mortified of how he speaks to you, although not inclined to deny his words. Not when he spanks you once more, with such force that a scream is rewarded and your back arches in euphoric pain.

"Hoseok, no more, please. I'll--I'll cum if you keep, ugh," you blabber over yourself. He thinks you look prettily pathetic drooling on his desk, so close to spilling over the edge from being physically humiliated.

"Tch, so weak," he comments before releasing your wrist and letting you collapse to the floor. "Are you done?" The question both turns you on and pisses you off, emotions swirling into something self-destructive.

Crawling on the carpet and up his leg, you nuzzle into his bulge, "But I still didn't get what I want." You don’t even ponder where this behavior is coming from; slinking out of you like a dog with its tail between its legs. Perhaps his own change of manner influenced one in you.

He could laugh at how easy you were being, wondering when he ever mated with someone who acts like such a sexually-obsessed brat. "Oh?" he prompts, "So you think you get to make the calls here?"

Licking the hem of his boxers in response, he doesn't feel pleased with your lack of words. You perk up when he shuffles his cock out from the confines of his layers. It’s almost instinctual, not wasting any time to pepper kisses and kitten licks to his tip. God, he even smells amazing. You don't care if you look ridiculous, feverish with your actions like he'd take away your precious treat if you weren't cautious.

He snickers at you, petting your hair with an unexpectedly soft touch. Your heart-shaped irises peer up, knowing he loves your eye contact when you suck him off. Watching the blush spread on his face means that you must be doing your job correctly. Besides, not even the Big Bad Wolf can deny when he feels his pleasure.

He almost can’t stand the self-righteousness that oozes off you. If you thought you were in control, you were dead-wrong. "You want my cock that bad, huh, baby?" your love bunches as much of your hair as he can with his fist, "Then fucking take it."

Then his girthy dick shoves to the back of your throat without warning, hips to your nose and thrustingthrustingthrusting as far as he can.

You'd sputter if your mouth wasn't so full, eyes overflowing with tears and throat constricting in hopes that he'll let you go. When he doesn't and continues to grind himself down your mouth, you dig your nails into his thighs and whine on his persistent cock. It doesn’t matter, the digging crescents in his thighs rousing him even further and even hoping those pretty nails of yours leave marks for him. He’d accept no less.

Hoseok thrusts twice more before pulling you off and watching you cough maniacally. The tears that gathered were now running down your face, accompanied with your saliva that leaks from your chin and onto the floor.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't ask him to stop, and you loved it.

He cocks a brow as you struggle to catch up, "We'll stop here. You're obviously not made for this."

Pitiful is the only word he can use to describe how quickly you paw and beg for him, desperately wrapping your fingers around the base of his member and pumping him just the way he likes it, "No! I can take it, please use me." Your unstable hand massages the cum-saliva mix as well as it can, a small victory celebrated when he bucks into you.

"Mm," his thumb wipes a stray tear from your lip, "You're so beautiful when you cry. Will you sit on the desk for me?"

You don't hesitate to obey, being careful to hop up when your bum is so sore but otherwise eager for him to touch you again. When he places himself between your legs, your body hums.

"I'm... I'm not well, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you," he says, voicing his first concern after what's already happened. With his brows knit in concern and his slender fingers rubbing calmly at your sides, it's almost as if the Hoseok you know has returned. The Hobi that makes your pancakes just a little overcooked like you prefer. Who makes you a blanket nest when you’re feeling down. And will gladly give up his last bite of anything to watch you munch happily even after you’ve finished your own portion.

In some way, this was your same Hobi. Maybe not so sweet and innocent but more on the receiving end. Spending his days tending to you out of pure love and pleasure to see you bloom; it was just your turn to return the favor.

So you kiss him with fervor and mold your chest to his, feeling the scorching heat that emanates from him. He must seriously be straining himself, you think. His canines graze your lips and you know he's trying his best to hold back; to not completely obliterate you.

"I want to help you," you whisper against his mouth. You implore him and he doesn’t hesitate to take your offer.

You extend your legs as he rushes to pull down your thong, throwing it to the side, and embracing you with another kiss, all tongue and pants. Some of his documents get ruffled under your steadying hands and he shoves them off altogether, a rain of really important paper littering the room. He comes in a little too excitedly, slamming a drawer closed with his thigh and even scooting his desk across the floor.

“God fucking dammit,” he swears, your chuckles covering his wet lips. “I’m… a mess… not thinking straight. Need to cum inside you.”

You purr when his head rubs against your sex, an electric sensation tearing through you. “Want you to knot me,” you whisper. A mistake in its own because he’s practically moaning into your mouth when you say such things.

“Yeah, baby? Want your cunt pumped full? Hm?” he asks into your jaw, all the while spreading your legs as far as they can split with his strong hands. His hips begin to circle like he’s stalling as long as possible and that rouses you up in a way.

You nod with sultry eyes and chant, “Yes. Yes, yes.” By the second yes does he all but slam into you, your final confirmation his endgame.

Hoseok was truly blessed in size, something no mere human could ever match. His length alone would make you double over in ecstasy if he allowed you the space to. Squeezing around him only makes him fuck you deeper, both wanting and needing more of each other than you already have. You were made for him, and him you.

You whimper as he pulls out, his head tantalizing your g-spot before ramming back inside and forcing an angelic cry. “H-Hoseokie… Please, your pups. I want to have your pups”

The sounds of his hips against your skin with your moans and the subtle creak of his desk is almost humorous, you were fucking like dogs. Even more so when he pushes you flat against the wood by the front of your throat, his thumb tucked gently on an airway as your tongue flops out in simple bliss.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” he snarls with a particularly evil drill to your core that curls your toes. “Nothing to me would be more satisfying than to breed you.”

Your throat constricts and you cough, your tiny hands tugging at his fingers while barely being able to pry his grip. You can’t resist moaning through clenched teeth still, even when the prettiest wine red pours into his irises. Hoseok holds back incredibly well, despite having shifting eyes, his total control never fails to astonish you. It was years worth of training and you thank the stars that it was useful in a time where you were literally stuffed with his cock.

“And you’re so willing; so obedient now. You like when I fuck you like this. Just want that beautiful pussy bred until you’re spilling, right?” he chuckles with means to humiliate when your eyes flutter and drool spills from your swollen lips, “What a mate.”

You tighten, an embarrassing amount of arousal spilling and sticking to your love. He doesn’t mind one bit, rather, losing composure for a brief moment, “Ugh, so good.”

His hand suddenly withdraws from your tender neck and you sputter an attempt to catch your breath, a fleeting moment before he wraps his arms under your knees and prompts you to hang onto him when he stands. How quickly he’s able to switch positions is hot in itself, but the thought is also lost when you sink down even further on his dick.

“Oh, oh my god,” you wail pathetically, wrapping yourself around him and trying to lift your trembling body to ease how full you feel, even for just a moment.

“Hm? I thought you wanted this, baby. Wanted my complete, unforgiving love for you. Isn’t that why you walked into my office?” he smirks similarly to how you imagine the devil would. His hands find leverage against the closest wall, also shoving you against it and resuming his pace into you.

This, to whichever persona was hiding deep down in Hoseok, was divine. Incredible. You would die for this man even without the bond. He was literally screwing you braindead.

He pants, warm and sweaty and shirt somehow unbuttoned halfway down (when did you do that?), “I thought you wanted my knot? Not anymore?”

Your pupils blow out as you shake your head, you were so close.

“Ah, then I’ll knot you. I’ll knot you but you have to beg,” he says with a wink. Bastard.

“Please, please knot me, baby. Breed me and let me have your pups,” you sob, “Fill me up until I can’t take it anymore, Alpha, please—”

He jabs incessantly until you’re entirely maxed out, sloppy smacks echoing out further than the den and his growls emanating when you drag your sharp nails down his back, the fabric tearing under your fingers. Hoseok grinds his full length into you, reaching beyond the end of your walls.

“S-Stay,” he orders. He slows as the base of his cock swells and even though you asked for it, it’s always a little uncomfortable. You can’t even fathom how it feels for your mate, his sudden groans and the absolute necessity to lave at your neck only scraping at the surface of any real indication.

Hoseok told you once that it was similar to both being overstimulated and having a sudden spike of energy, which could explain his touchiness. It was cute though, and kinda hot.

Nestled deep inside, you can subtly feel the ropes of semen beginning to pool. You rest your head over his shoulder, buzzing from the intensity of it all and watching as the walls move and shift into the ones of your bedroom.

Hoseok’s hoarse voice surprises you, “Fuck, I’m so dizzy.”

The bed is a heavenly difference from the den’s desk and wall, your heart pounding a little too hardly when he places one of his pillows lengthwise under your back for extra squish. He was so cute.

But then he collapses on you.

“Oof—I’ve never seen you like that before. My ass hurts,” you state dreamily.

“Oh, love. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asks seriously, lifting his head to study your face in case you lie. The red dissipated long before, his deep brown eyes twinkling down at you like they always do.

“You were a little rough,” you feign, pouting and pushing around his face with paw-folded fists. He thinks you look like an idiot, a cute idiot.

“I’m sorryyyy,” he whines, burying his face into your chest and wiggling around like a fish. His knot moves with him and you wince.

“Hoseok, stay still.”

Being showered in a sudden attack of kisses is what he responds with, not even aware of the task at hand and fake crying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to hurt you—I—oh no.”

You yipe as semen sloshes down your leg, shoving your palm into Hobi’s (who is undoubtedly back to his usual self) cheek and trying your best to not panic.

“Goddammit, Jung Hoseok! Stay still!”

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