#he doesn’t quite realize that he’s not in a life or death situation every time he gets in a fight

[baskeigh-ball]

Raph’s adjustment period to living with the Hamatos was stressful for everyone involved

Not pictured: Mikey having a heart attack and Donnie frantically trying to remember every location that’s best for hiding a body. Yes, he’s done the math.

[bayfuzzball7050]

My favourite jjba character(s) from each part bc I know it will be more appreciated here than in a Reddit thread

I’ll use this header from now on to yap

Phantom Blood: Speedwagon. Regardless if it’s a whole meme in the community, o genuinely think it’s very brave of him to follow along in an adventure where everyone has powers but he doesn’t. He just raw dog’s every supernatural event and tries his best to be useful. It’s a noble thing.

Battle Tendency: Definitely Caesar Zeppeli. A much more complex and interesting character than his predecessor (William Zeppeli, I mean). I loved his design, personality and charisma regardless if I couldn’t resonate at all with his backstory. I also really enjoyed his rivalry/friendship with Joseph. I’ve always loved the smart/snarky guy x himbo dynamic!

Stardust Crusaders: I love kakyoin with all my heart and soul and I will never shut up about it. I resonated deeply with him since I know personally what it is like to be alone. I like how Araki portrayed his loneliness in a ‘im different than everyone I know’ way where he couldn’t relate to people the way others that. That childhood monologue— god! It hit so, so close to home. I couldn’t help but cry when the scene came up. That is when I realized how much the crusaders mattered to him. A bunch of people ‘like him’ and it’s such a sacred feeling when you’ve been feeling ‘off’ all your life. I also like that he’s always giving little fun facts he’s a bit like yapdollar

Diamond Is Unbreakable: Okuyasu. No question needed. Unlike his brother, Okuyasu is a very kind soul that has never killed anyone (at least on screen) even when he has endured so much abuse from his brother and father alike, something that would ‘justify it’ if he did became an evil character. He stopped looking for a way to kill his father because he can see the good in people and ‘accept them for who they are’. I can’t help but feel a deep sympathy for him. He had taken what his brother had told him about being better off dead so personally to the point where his first question after being healed by Josuke was (paraphrasing bc I don’t remember well) was something like “why did you save me when it would’ve been easier to let me die?”. Josuke came just in time to make him realize how much he actually mattered so he could evolve into the little goofball we all know and love.

Golden Wind: Giorno. I think most people who call him a ‘boring’ or ‘plain’ character often seem to forget that, of course, Giorno will not be a charismatic, sociable, talkative, — joseph — kind of guy. He was severely emotionally and physically neglected in his childhood to the point where showing emotions became useless since he knew he’d be left shaking in his craddle. From this emotional neglect, he started looking up at a gangster as some sort of parental figure. Someone who showed him basic human decency. Later, we get to see his ingenuity in battle. But I think one of the reasons he was so clever in life or death situations was because he has been in a ‘fight or flight’ mode since a very young age. He isn’t even ‘bottling up’ his emotions, he had repressed them deeply inside his brain to survive.

Stone Ocean: The main three. But mainly Foo Fighters bc they’re so silly >_< and I can’t begin to imagine how marvellous it has to be to, one day, become a sentient being

Steel Ball Run: I can’t quite decide between Gyro and Johnny tbh. Johnny is a character who had been always pampered with his ‘rich life’ and was then shocked with the fact that once you’re not useful, or worse, become inconvenient for people, they stop caring about you. I often think about how bad his father was with him, not only rubbing Nicholas’ death all over his face rather often, the whole “God, you took the wrong son” page or just how he never went by to visit him when he had just gotten crippled. It was just plain cruel. Also when they followed Hot Pants to a church and Johnny had to relive some of his most traumatic life experiences again and still try to win. It was one of the best arcs in sbr imo.

Gyro, on another note, wasn’t a son of a wealthy family but had to carry the weight of generations and generations of knowledge on top of the family profession on his shoulders, having to execute a child. He’s also a silly goofball with his jokes that make little to no sense and him trying to explain the spin to johnny in life or death situations always has me cackling up ngl.

Jojolion: I haven’t started to read JOJOLION, but from what I’ve seen, Gappy seems to be a silly goofball who lacks direction and I love that in a man. Also that he’s a 2 x 1 combo, literally.

Jojolands: I haven’t read jojolands either, but good lord they sold me Dragona and Paco when I heard ‘transgender’ and ‘laburantes’. Plus everyone from the Jodio team also seems to be lacking direction and being a pinch silly

[messiahzzz]

Hello! I love your meta-analysis of BG3 and share many of the same opinions concerning our boy, Gale. I have an interesting question for you concerning the orbs "volatility" in relation to intimacy (both physical and non-physical). I used to believe it was cannon that Gale couldn't engage in physical intimacy because the Orb may detonate, but when I played as Gale I was able to sleep with Astarion. This is in contrast to when I played as Karlach and couldn't touch anyone.

So, all of this is to ask whether Gale's dialogue at the tiefling party was him protecting himself emotionally or if he truly thought that any excitement would trigger the Orb (ironic given they are fighting for their lives daily)? Additionally is this why the Weave scene only features an imagined kiss rather than a physical one?

thank you so much for the questions!! i’m very glad you enjoy reading my posts 💕

gale: with my condition being as volatile as it is, i fear any undue, er, excitement, may tip it over the edge. so to speak.

i do believe that gale was being honest in regards to avoiding physical/emotional excitement concerning the orb. his first and foremost priority is to make sure to avoid as many potential triggers as possible, being fully aware of the catastrophe that will occur if he doesn’t keep an eye on his condition at all times. fighting is inevitable given the situation the group found themselves in. on top of that, every single day for the past year alone has quite literally been a life or death situation for him, wondering how much longer he can hold on until the orb inevitably takes over. i also think that he has experienced his fair share of horrors and tough fights in his past, considering his status as an archmage, as well as him being mystra’s chosen. even with his now diminished powers & the tadpole in his head he still remains in his element. magic is his life, it comes as easy to him as breathing.

gale: i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet.

more importantly, the devnotes also proof that the orb is indeed the reason for his deflection during the tiefling party:

gale: i see. then perhaps we see each other in the same light after all. a resplendent one, flush with warmth and anticipation, but one which i must shy away from, for now. node context: still flustered, but pleased to learn you like him romantically. then getting to the point - he can't do anything until the orb is dealt with.

if tav directly tells him to cease the perceived flirting, he will reveal that he considered their relationship to be a "budding romance" at this stage.

player: if this is an attempt at flirting, you should stop. i'm not interested. gale: right. understood. you shall hear no more on the subject from me. gale: consider this budding romance thoroughly nipped. though i hope our friendship need not come to such an abrupt end.

yet at the same time, he is also completely flustered if tav is the one who initiates the flirting:

player: do you like having your belly rubbed? gale: the pleasures i experienced in mystra's embrace go far beyond the pleasures of having one's tummy tickled. i remember once, she took the smallest piece of the weave and made it into- gale: wait. are you saying... nodecontext: taking the question seriously, missing the flirtatious side of it. nodecontext: realizing that the player was flirting, getting flustered

regardless of which flirt option tav chooses to pick, the outcome remains the same:

gale: you know what, i think i've clearly had far too much wine. and you've had nowhere near enough. i think this is a conversation best held back on - for now. nodecontext: flustered, hesitating to explicitly say what he thinks you were offering, then backtracking altogether

while battle naturally is always accompanied by the unpredictable, (as well as the dread of facing a yet unknown enemy) i don’t think he experiences quite the same amount of trepidation as where matters of the heart are concerned. or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it’s an altogether different kind.

the budding relationship with tav is once again unfamiliar territory for him after all those years he went without mortal intimacy, years that have been spent with mystra instead. it’s understandable that he exercises caution at all times, knowing what’s at stake if he lets go for but merely a moment. i also believe gale to be a character who generally goes “all out” once he chooses to be intimate with someone. we know that he doesn’t do casual trysts, friends-with-benefits arrangements, or anything of the sort. instead he wants to build a deep connection first. gale is a romantic through and through, he only feels comfortable being intimate once it has been explicitly established that the emotions he feels for tav are indeed wholly reciprocated. gale puts his whole heart into everything he does, he would’ve felt that it was a disservice to tav if he was only able to give them (according to him) even less than the remaining fragments of a broken man he has to offer — once he decides to give himself, he gives himself fully.

another added factor, however, is that the tiefling party simply wasn’t the right time for him yet, even if he already felt some attraction to them. part of him perhaps would’ve liked to go a bit further, be more direct about his growing fondness for them. spending a night together, just enjoying each other's company, talking until the sun rises, perhaps even sharing their first kiss if he felt that the timing was right — but i don’t think he would’ve considered this to be the appropriate stage in their relationship to sleep with tav either way. orb or no.

gale also tells us this much during the Last Night Alive scene, as well as during the conversation after you just met tara. in an ideal situation he would’ve taken his time, courted tav properly, said it all better.

gale: if things were different, if we were home, i'd have taken the time to do things properly. to say it all better. but time is short.

gale: i always imagined what it would be like when you finally got to meet her. this wasn't quite what i had pictured. gale: i thought we'd be in waterdeep. you, curled up before a crackling hearth while i prepared us a ridiculously extravagant meal, served with a batch of my homemade hundur sauce.

time is short.

i always headcanoned gale to be on the demi spectrum. that he needs to build a close bond before sexual intimacy is something that even remotely occurs to him. tav is an anomaly in this regard — he knows he deeply cares for them, emotions that developed even in the short, few months they've known each other, and that he doesn’t have the luxury of time to let their relationship unfold in all the many ways he dreamed of. all he knows is that he loves tav, wholly and truly. and that, by the gods, he has to make the most out of the few extra heartbeats he’s been given. even if his death is inevitable, he will at least be able to show them the depths of his affection. leave them with shared memories of pure tenderness, a knowledge of a love so profound that it might perhaps even prevail way beyond his passing.

player: what about all we shared together? are you just going to give up? gale: this isn't giving up it's securing victory, at a price i am willing to pay. and everything we shared can live on - with you.

i wouldn’t necessarily say that gale was trying to “protect himself emotionally” during the tiefling party, but rather acted accordingly to the horrifying circumstances the tadpole gang (and especially he himself) find themselves in. i don’t think gale ever really considers a romanced!tav as someone he needs to be guarded around. evident in the way he immediately throws all doors open without any sign of hesitation once he has their assurance that their love is indeed mutual. gale pours his heart out to them regardless, not knowing whether his feelings are truly returned. he is not a character who shies away from being vulnerable by any means. he is an open book, that tav is free to peruse in as they see fit. a slither of trust is all he needs.

during the weave scene the connection abruptly fades once tav either imagines passionately kissing him or holding his hand during a romantic walk. a scene that again shows that he is genuinely stunned by what he’s being shown. after all, it doesn't happen often that gale of waterdeep is at a loss for words.

gale: i... i didn't think... narrator: *you perceive quick-fire gusts of embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.* gale: sorry, i wasn't expecting... but it is a pleasant image to be sure! gale: most pleasant, in fact. most welcome. nodecontext: warm, with real affection

i do believe the weave scene in particular to be a turning point for him. sort of an epiphany. the first moment in which he realizes that he actually might like the idea of eventually being with tav as perhaps more than a friend. that he is filled with fondness whenever they’re near and that he is excited to see where their joined travels lead them next.

player: when i said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. what does that really mean? gale: if i recall correctly, the waterdhavian dictionary of the common tongue of faerun defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. gale: you see, i'm not a big believer in fate, but i do believe in serendipity. gale: life is a tempest of events that sometimes we brace against and sometimes embrace. gale: you're one such event that, one day soon perhaps, i'd like to embrace.

given my personal hc of gale being demisexual, i genuinely don’t believe that he entertained the thought before that. he was way too preoccupied with other more pressing concerns. his overall condition, the tadpole, mourning the loss of his powers, still dealing with a lingering sense of loneliness and melancholy. a yearning for better times, as well as disillusionment of being cast out and left behind, even if he has already worked through his romantic feelings for mystra and their unilaterally ended relationship by then.

gale: i'm hardly pining. it's been a year or more since mystra cast me aside.

tav’s advances genuinely catch him off guard, which is, according to my interpretation, also the reason why their shared connection abruptly faded. a general loss of focus. gale immediately bidding tav goodnight to reflect on the situation and sort through his thoughts again shows that this wasn’t how he expected this moment of teaching to unfold. it seems rather uncharacteristic of him to initiate a kiss in this specific scenario. tav was testing the waters, whether it happened intentionally or not, and gale found himself pleasantly surprised by the turn of events.

i also believe that we generally shouldn’t use origin playthroughs as a cross-reference for the actual canon. larian approached each story with more or less detail and there are already so many inconsistencies present that have been pointed out by other players. instead we should see origin pts as an oc kind of scenario — larian handing us the reigns of each origin character, a way for us to have fun and figure out all the atrocities we could possibly come up with. sort of like playing with our own set of barbies. (“go nuts, show nuts” as tunglr staff put it back in the day) for example, playing as w*ll doesn’t lock you out of raiding the grove and spending a steamy night with m*nth*ra right after either. which is something that contradicts everything he stands for/something he wouldn't naturally do. even if you try to play an origin character as close to their canon portrayal as possible, you will still encounter several contradictions and discrepancies during the duration of your game. larian sadly also has a chronic pattern of overlooking gale in terms of content, fixes, and overall responsiveness. so it’s easy to conclude that his origin story simply hasn’t been fleshed out to the same extent & treated with the same amount of care and consideration that certain other characters received. (which is awfully ironic considering he’s been proven to be the most popular origin character, but i digress)

basically, this has been my very long-winded way of saying: the reason why gale refuses to be intimate with tav pre-orb stabilization is indeed because he is afraid of the orb accidentally detonating during a moment of carelessness and/or indulgence, as well as because of gale’s own preferences when sex & romance are concerned.

[sunflowersteves]

just to see you smile || m.o.

pairing || Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary || as Spider-Man, Miguel was forced to be prepared for many situations, like multi-universal travel, but losing you and Gabriella wasn't one of them.

author's note || do i only know how to make angst for this man bc damn

warnings || grief, main character death (reader), heavy angst, some fluff, potential spoilers, gabriella isn't the reader's child, miguel is anti-therapist, non-canon (sorry miguel ik)

masterlist

“I thought I might find you here,” Peter says. Mayday makes grabby hands at Miguel beside her, little chubby fingers grabbing onto his soft sweater. Peter looked down, taking note of the fresh, bright marigold flowers and the sweet, sugary bread that sat on top of the gravestone. 

Miguel’s eyes closed—breathing in and out of his nose as if to control the space around him. It was getting harder and harder, though, as time passed on. 

It had officially been three years. One-thousand nine-hundred and five days.

Miguel didn’t say a single word. He just stared at the gravestone in front of him, hoping that Peter would leave. If Mayday wasn’t here, he definitely would have left by force, if needed. 

“C’mon, I’ve told you before.” Mayday giggled and babbled at her father’s words. “You need to talk to someone about this stuff.”

He paused, gauging Miguel’s softened expression on the engraved stone. “You already know the damage you’ve done—t-to Miles.”

This time, Miguel just scoffed. He turned to Peter, and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his friend. Miguel had large bags under his eyes and a familiar pain that was etched across his face—one that Peter knew too well. “Yes, I’m sure Ezekial Sims from Earth-616 will solve all of my problems and grant all of my wishes.”

Peter just sighed and subtly rolled his eyes. They stood in silence, with the occasional babble from Mayday. Peter, though, just continued to stare at the man in front of him. 

He was broken—pieces of him scattered across the memories of you and his daughter. It was all he seemed to think about in the shining sunlight or the dark, drastic moonlight. 

 “All I need is them, Pete.”

Peter nodded in understanding. He knew. He understood that kind of deep-set pain never went away, but Peter also knew that everything eventually got better. No, it wasn’t time. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, as the saying goes. 

Miles helped Peter. Miles dug Peter out from the sinking hole that he had been placed in by life and the atrocities that continued around him. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t sulking. It wasn’t crying in the shower.

It was Miles. The goofy, talented, and crazy smart kid made Peter realize he needed to take that leap of faith. He got therapy, cleaned himself up, and he got better. Honestly, for Miguel, Peter wasn’t sure the last time he saw the brooding man laugh—let alone smile at anyone or anything. 

What Peter didn’t know was that Miguel smiled quite often.

He smiled when he looked at the glass-shattered photo of you in his bedroom. He smiled at the video of you and his daughter making a mess in the kitchen. He smiled as he daydreams about what you would do if you saw him now with every single Spider-person in all of the universes. He smiled at the video he took of you on the beach with the sand scratching against your leg and wind blowing against your dress.

So in his defense, he smiles all the time. 

“C’mon, Miguel, stop!” You laughed. It was loud and boisterous against his ears, and he wanted to cherish the sound for all of eternity. 

He held onto you even tighter, the waves crashing up against his knees. His smile is bright—just as bright as yours. “I made a promise, pumpkin. If you don’t shout the words, I’ll drop you.”

You squealed in anticipation, and your hands only seemed to latch onto his shoulders even more. “date prisa ahora.” He whispers against your ear. You only seemed to grip onto him tighter, but your smile seemed even wider.

“Okay, okay!” You breathe, shoving your head into his neck. “Humph. Humph.” 

Miguel grinned. If you saw him now, you would see a certain teasing gleam in his eyes. “What was that? I can’t hear you, pumpkin.”

You screeched again in his arms as he faked a slip of your form. He was still grinning ear to ear, and he couldn’t get enough of the laughter that bubbled up around your protests to him.

Something deep and connected possessed his entire chest. He could feel that ounce of love that blossomed beneath his heart and prodded against his stomach.

“I love you!” You shouted. Some of the fellow vacationers along the beach had turned their heads at the booming sound. Miguel laughed—the sound rumbling against his chest, and it made you bounce in his arms. 

“Was that so hard?” His arms tightened around the underside of your neck and the other holding up your legs. He slowly, yet surely, backed up from the roaring ocean and cascading waves. 

“Extremely, and I’ll never say it again,” You teased. 

Miguel gasped in defense, placing a hand on his chest. Without the support, you shrieked and grabbed onto his shoulder. “Miguel!”

He shook his head, his smile only widening as he just couldn’t help it. “And just when I thought I was gonna say it right back, pumpkin.”

Miguel opened his eyes. Peter was still there with his daughter, which prompted a gut-punching sigh to release from his lips. He shook his head, desperately wanting the memory to no longer sear against his brain. He wanted it to be real.

“Just know you’re not alone, man.”

He nods. The pain of your passing. The ache of Gabriella’s passing. It was all becoming too much. He didn’t think it would hurt anybody, let alone the two of you. 

But he did. He really, really did. 

With that, Peter takes his leave. May had most likely needed a nap by now and was going to take her home to Mary Jane. He looked back one last time, and he swore he almost missed it.

A single tear slid down Miguel’s face as his eyes stayed locked onto the two headstones. It was as if his eyes couldn’t leave—like you and Gabi would be gone if he did. 

Ultimately, he knows he’s not alone. He’s never alone—not as long as yours and Gabriella’s memories are still etched into his brain.

He’s never alone. 

Miguel rubs his eyes, the sleep that hovered around them still prominent. He looked over to the bedside table to read the clock. 4:45 am. 

He heard a crash of pots and pans in the kitchen. A smile rose onto his face at the sound of laughter in the kitchen. He quietly puts on some pants that were discarded on the floor.

He then shuffles over to the door of the bedroom, and his feet pad against the wooded hallway. He hears another crash and then a gasp. His ears perch at the sound, and his shoulders tense—his mind thinking the worst. Then, his large frame sags in relief as he hears another fit of laughter and giggles. 

He finally makes his way into the kitchen, and it was a sight to be seen. Miguel leans on the doorframe while he watches you and his daughter. You two are covered in flour and sugar—from head to toe.

“Gabi!” You laughed, wiping some of the sticky dough from your cheek. She had just smeared some across your face in an attempt to get you back for getting chocolate on her arm.

“I got you!” She yells in glee. You laugh again at her antics and lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, kid. You definitely got me that time.”

Her eyes shine brightly up at you, and then they see the tall form in the corner of the kitchen. “Papa!” 

She runs over to him and crashes him into a hug. You turn around and smile at a very sleepy Miguel. You were tired too, but you also didn’t have a spider verse to run. 

“Gabi had insomnia again.” He nods in response. God, he was really tired. It was starting to become unbearable as his eyes slid close again. “Want to try a cookie?”

He decided right then and there. Fuck sleep. How the fuck could he say no to that?

Miguel blinked. He blinked once more. Before he knew it, tears cascaded down his face at the sweet memory of his family. 

He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t sob. He didn’t cry out. He just stood there and let the tears drip onto the grass. 

Miguel, you’re never alone. He reminds himself.

He is never alone.

[thisismeracing]

Twisted Love | MS47

― Pairing: Dark Angel!Mick x fem!reader ― Word count: 3.3k ― Warnings: +18; suggestive content and a quick description of sex (p in v); mentions of a fallen angel, assault, and stalker behavior; description of horror situations and death (but not too graphic). ― Summary: The rule is clear for all celestial beings: to love the Almighty beyond everything. They can’t share the feeling. It is perpetually prohibited for angels to get fond of humans, especially the protector angels. They are the ones who will follow their human on earth and protect each one. Those Angels and the humans are the same pairing throughout time. Mick watched Yn die and come to life in different forms each period, and he fell. In love and from Heaven. Years after searching for Yn, he found her again, and he’s ready to get what’s his.

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“I slithered here from Eden, just to sit outside your door.” — Hozier, From Eden

He knew the rules. He had friends who disobeyed it and had to pay the price: to leave Heaven. And nobody wants to leave the Heavens. Mick never judged them, but he always questioned himself as to why would someone freely give up their position, their friends, their home, and their God, for something that could only be classified as temporary when put side by side with the world known by the celestial beings.

Up until he met you.

Up until he watched you die and come back to life.

Up until he protected you in every lifetime.

Up until he couldn’t resist but visit your dreams.

Up until he finally realized he was in love.

With a human.

Mick Schumacher was in love with you.

A guardian angel was in love with his human.

He was cast out of Heaven by the Almighty who did it with so much mourn and pain, that the other celestial beings almost tried to change His mind. But nobody questions the Almighty's orders. Rules were made by Him and they were meant to be followed. It doesn’t matter if it was one of His favorite angels.

Mick still remembers what he said to him before judgment day.

“Son, you can still regret your sin. You can still change your mind, and the Heavens will forgive you,” the powerful voice echoed around, and Mick kept his head low.

He could only think of you. And how your skin felt against his. How beautiful you looked sleeping. And how angelical your laughter was.

“Father, you always talk about love, so why don’t you let your beings love?” he asks, and though if the question came from any other Celestial the Almighty could read it as some kind of disrespect, it came from Mick, so he only sighed.

“You can love me, I’m your creator, your ruler. I made you the way you are Mick.”

“Then why are you punishing me for following my instincts and feelings? If you created me the way I am, then it’s your fault I’m choosing this path!” he retorted, finally lifting his eyes to the sky. The most beautiful sky to ever exist. The kind of thing that no human eyes would support.

“Enough!” the Almighty’s voice reverberated around the void and clouds. “You’re being cast out of Heaven, son. And your human? She just died. You’re gonna have to find her again. Good luck, Mick.”

And so he walked around the earth, he flew around the sea, he looked at each corner until he could finally find where you were reborn. Where you had reincarnated.

And when he finally did he followed you like a shadow. Just like he did when he was your guardian angel.

And Oh- you were so beautiful, so perfect. Mick loved staying by your side while you worked, spooking a male coworker here and there. He would walk home with you, just observing as you smiled widely to everyone who passed by, how you were so full of life, how you were still the woman he fell in love with. The one he fell for. Quite literally.

–

It was a Friday night, it was a happy hour from work at a bar three streets from your building. You weren’t in the mood to party, but your friends insisted, and your boss was always so adamant about having everyone together, you did not know how to say no to the invitation.

That’s how you found yourself sitting at a barstool, your lips a bit numb from a shot of something you didn’t know. Your body was lighter and the tipsy feeling made you giggle at everything three of your coworkers would say.

Mick was watching from the shadows, a mask of invisibility around him while he assessed the dangers around the place. And his blood boiled when he saw the guy who was eyeing you from the beginning buying you a drink from across the bar, tipping something on your cup before asking for the barman to give it to you.

He transported himself to a dark hallway and walked to you just when the drink was put on the wood counter, the contents of whatever the man had added settling at the bottom of the cup. Mick took advantage of the place where you were sitting and pretended to sit by your side, accidentally knocking your cup.

“Oh- oh my, I’m so clumsy, I’m really sorry,” he used his best mask to pretend it wasn’t his intention. To draw your attention to him.

You turned ready to complain, but the second your eyes met his big blue orbs your voice died down, trapped in your throat along with your heart from how fast it started to beat. He was so beautiful, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his angelic face to his white button down, some of the top buttons opened showing just a hint of blonde chest hair. You gulped. He was wearing blue jeans too, and a pair of Converse shoes. What a marvelous view, you thought.

“I can buy you another drink to make up for it,” he suggested after some seconds of silence, and you gulped, before giving him a nod with your head. “I’m Mick, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extended one of his big hands and you shared a glance with your coworkers behind you, one of them giving a thumbs up as if approving the way Mick looked. You giggled, and turned your body fully in his direction, taking his hand in yours and feeling the chills run down your body.

“You seem familiar,” you muttered.

“I’ve read somewhere that blonde guys are starting to catch up with the brunettes on statistic numbers,” he joked, lifting just the corner of his lips while his eyes attentively scanned you.

You let out a chuckle, finally touching his hand with yours and stopping for a beat. His skin felt warm, and it was like her whole body was lit up by a simple touch, “I’m Yn.”

“Sorry for your drink again, Yn. Though I think I may have saved you, it looked awful from what I saw,” he pointed to the glass that only had a small sip, the liquid a strange green shade.

You made a face at the contents, “What are you having?”

And Mick grinned internally. You were being forward. You wanted his company. He knew you didn’t usually try to make conversation like this. He knows you prefer your silence most of the time. Knows you like the back of his hand.

“Whatever you’re having.”

“Well, I had a few glasses of gin and cola, but I can totally follow you with beer if you want.” Oh, you were so sweet. And so thoughtful.

Mick smiled and shook his head, “I don’t like beer,” because you don’t like beer, Yn. And I’m the perfect guy for you, “I’ll have gin and cola too, sounds tasty.”

Your eyes lit up, and a small smile graced your lips.

And so he kept you company for hours. Drinking and talking. You were so carefree, laughing at all of his jokes, and cracking a few too, to which he would throw his head back and present you with the perfect view of his milky neck. You so wanted to kiss and lick it.

From his peripheral vision, he saw the guy who tried to drug you walk to the bathroom. Mick excused himself and followed him. His wings were twitching on his back, begging to be set free so he could fly to the highest spot and drop that little shit from there.

When he opened the door, the guy was washing his hands and turned to him, instantly recognizing Mick as the man who stole his victim of the night.

“Your motherfucker, I was-”

Mick furrowed his brows and stared deep into his eyes.

There are things that the human eyes aren’t ready to process yet. And that’s exactly the form that he showed the guy. The form that shut his mouth, making him gasp with utter terror. Mick smiled, closing his eyes and coming back to his blonde skin, eyes now completely dark, inviting the man to jump into the unknown darkness. Something that would certainly kill him.

“Please,” he tried to plead, but nobody messes with you and lives to tell a story. Mick was still your angel. It was still his duty to protect you.

He felt satisfied when the guy dropped at his feet, mind haunted by the worst demons earth could house, and body a few seconds from death.

Mick brushed invisible dust from his shoulders, before walking back to the bar. An enchanting smile on his lips when your eyes found him in the crowd.

“That was quick,” you jabbed and Mick chuckled, fitting his body right beside yours instead of sitting at the barstool.

“I missed you, had to make it quick, or else my heart wouldn’t take it.”

You giggled, turning to him. One of your elbows at the wooden counter. Mick turned too, fitting between your legs that parted just right for him.

Looking up at him it was like you were the angel. His angel. His goodness.

He loved you. He worshiped you. And it felt heavenly when your hands reached for his shoulders, bringing his face down to yours and crashing your lips in a tentative kiss. You flicked your tongue shyly, and Mick almost moaned, holding your jaw and your waist, and opening his mouth for you to deepen the kiss.

The material of his shirt was soft against your palms, and so was the skin of his neck when you moved your hands there and threaded your fingers between his blonde strands.

Mick tasted like alcohol with a hint of something sweet and fresh, and you almost moaned when he sucked your bottom lips into his mouth, grinning into the kiss.

You stayed like this for a bit, kissing here and there, talking, and sipping your drinks. Your coworkers were long gone. And when you got ready to leave, Mick offered to walk you home which for some reason you accepted.

His hand laced yours while you walked down the dark streets, and you never felt so protected in your life the way you felt at that moment.

You had just met him. You had no justification to trust him. To show him where you lived. To ask if he wanted to enter your apartment. But he had such inviting eyes. Such a way of holding you. Of you speaking.

He looked like an angel.

And that angel waited right at the threshold waiting for whatever you would say after you got inside.

Mick wanted to do it right.

He had entered her house so many times, but now it would be different. You would invite him. You would house him. He remembers one of the verses of the Book of Life where the Almighty says that he’s at your door, and he’ll only get inside if you ask him to.

Well, he’s ready to be your everything, but he wants you to invite him to do so first.

You turn around, a hazy smile on your lips, “C’mon, Micky, don’t be shy about me now. Get inside,” you finally verbalize. “This is my house, I don’t share it with anybody, no roommates, I promise. You’re welcome to get in.”

You’re welcome to get in.

I don’t share it with anybody.

He grinned. You share it with him now.

Mick walked inside.

He took his shoes off and walked to your kitchen watching you try to heat some frozen pizza.

That night Mick fed you, bathed you, and laid with you in bed, making sure to leave just before you wake up and pretend he slept on the couch.

That morning he made you breakfast, adding an extra strong black coffee to help you with your headache. He also asked you on a date and kissed you when leaving �� which he didn’t do, because he was always there. He wasn’t from Heaven anymore, but he was still your angel, he would always be your angel.

That month he asked you to be his girlfriend. You discovered his surname, and that you had more things in common than you thought that night. You discovered that he was a biker and that he spoke several foreign languages. He had gone to the military, but never into war – his skin was too flawless for someone who had, no scars, except for two on his back, which he explained were from a car accident.

Life with Mick was perfect. It was like he could read your mind. He knew what you needed at the right time, he would order you food when he wasn’t around, and cook for you when he was. He would show up to pick you up at work with flowers. And he would whisper the dirtiest things in your ear while maintaining the purest face.

Just like he was doing now.

“Tell me who you belong to, Yn,” his order was smooth, just like the skin of his stomach that was gliding over yours while he thrusts into you at a slow and deep pace.

You whimper, hands going to his back, fingers finding his scars, and gripping his body closer to yours, “I- I’m yours, Mick. All yours. Only yours.”

He paused with his lips in front of yours, breathing you in right before tasting you. It wasn’t long until you both dissolved into pleasure. His fingers trace your curves, while you lay your head on his chest.

He was so good at aftercare.

He was good at convincing you.

He was good at everything.

You never thought he was good at murder too.

It was a Saturday night and you were walking home from the same bar you met Mick. You had just met with some coworkers and decided to walk home. And you would have texted your boyfriend for him to pick you up, but your phone died, and you didn’t want to bother Mick, he was probably fixing the new bike he got last week.

What you weren’t expecting was a guy to come out of nowhere in front of you. He was huge, and he smelled like alcohol. You don’t even understand whatever he slurred. When panic finally kicks in, and you’re ready to scream, but his hand finds your mouth, while the other one grips your neck.

You remember your mother telling you that you must have a strong guardian angel, remember her telling you about the day you were born, and how they almost lost you. And so you pray for him. Pray for whatever bigger force could hear you.

And he shows up.

Mick shows up.

You called for him. Granted, you had no idea he was a fallen angel, an angel nonetheless.

Your angel.

And you were so innocent, so vulnerable, you needed Mick, that’s what he would tell himself, mainly because he was already following you. He always was.

You reminded him of his portrait in a mirror years ago, back when he was innocent too. Just an angel. One of the Almighty’s favorites.

But he wasn’t innocent anymore. He had fallen. And fallen angels don’t mind killing people that get in their way. So that’s what Mick did. He gripped the guy’s neck and held his face in front of his making sure his own back was turned to you. Mick showed him what the worst things on earth could look like, and how they looked in hell. The guy tried to look away, tried to close his eyes, but he had glanced at Mick’s black orbs, it was too late. Before his heart would stop, before his mind would get too hazy to understand everything, Mick twisted his neck and threw his body to the ground.

When your boyfriend turned to you, your eyes bulged still trying to grasp what just happened. You pointed to the guy on the ground, and Mick just nodded making you even more scared. How could your Mick kill someone? The sweet and kind Mick. The attentive, and soft-spoken blonde guy had just made whatever magic and killed someone.

“Love,” he called, and you shook your head trying to make your legs work. “Don’t be afraid,” he tried to reason, but your mind finally caught up with your body and you started running unsure of where you were heading since he had the keys to your place. Hell, he basically lived there!

“Yn, don’t run from me,” it was one of his soft orders, but this time they didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach but rather made your body prickle with fear because the second you turned your head Mick was flying in your direction.

He had big black wings with some golden feathers. It was beautiful, but scary somehow, just as everything new is.

You ran as fast as you could but it was nothing compared to how fast he could fly, and when Mick reached you he laced his hands around your body and flew up. You watched the gleam on his blue eyes, the way his milky skin seemed lightning, his dark wings enveloping you. He was still beautiful. Still, the whole moment felt like too much and your mind shut on you.

–

Waking up to Mick watching you wasn’t new, but this time it felt different especially because he still had his wings. They had retreated somehow, looking a bit smaller than earlier, but they were still here, and your breath hitched when you realized that it wasn’t a nightmare.

“I- What are you?”

“I’m an angel,” he stated, and your brows furrowed. “A fallen one. I was your guardian… still your guardian somehow,” his simple and direct explanation made you sit up and dig your hands into the bed cushion feeling dizzy all over again.

“An angel?!”

Mick nodded.

“You killed a man…” you shuddered.

He huffed, fingers going through the golden strands of his hair, “He’s not the first.” Mick’s confession makes you scramble to get up, “In my defense, they all tried to do you harm, and I would never let someone harm what's mine.”

He was so calm about it you wanted to laugh in disbelief.

“And you learned it at what… the third book of the Bible? No wonder you’ve fallen.”

His features twist.

“I was cast out of Heaven because I chose you instead of the Almighty.”

You tremble, head shaking in denial.

“Not possible. That’s sick…”

“I love you.”

“You don’t love me! What kind of twisted love is that where you kill people for me?”

He grins, “The best kind. You said so yourself you love me back, you also said you’re mine. You welcomed me here into your life, and I won’t leave.”

You gulped. “Mick, please. No.”

His eyes softened for a second, and you felt for yourself because he somehow looked like your Mick. The one you loved. And if he asked you something you would do it.

“You want me to prey on you?” he smirked. “You know you can’t run from me.”

Your love castle came crumbling down in the blink of an eye and along came your tears rushing down your face.

“Please,” such a mournful sound. Mick shook his head. “You’re a monster!”

“I’m your monster, love. You can’t deny it.”

With his wings fully retreated Mick appeared in front of you. When his lips find yours you try to push his shoulders and bite his lips, but he moans into your mouth, and the feeling of his muscular form and soft lips makes your brain shortcut. You’re open for him like his favorite meal on a silver plate.

“I waited too long for this. You’re mine, and I’ll hunt you down if you ever try to leave me, Yn.”

And your mom was right. You had a strong guardian angel, however, nobody accounted for the fact that he would be obsessed with you. Looking for love you ended up stumbling into something close to there, but also close to hell.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you liked the piece! This is the last one from the spooky pieces I tried writing hehe hopefully this is as good as the previous ones. I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Coffee (my coffee emoji anon here on Tumblr) for proofreading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this and make sure to reblog and leave a comment because Tumblr is being a btch and not delivering my stuff properly :( *mwah*.  

Ps. You'll notice that I make a lot of references throughout this piece, but none of them are intended to hurt beliefs or represent my vision of things. This is purely a work of fiction, and I tried my best to avoid using specific elements, choosing to go with "Almighty" in some moments and be a tad vague. I hope this doesn't come across as some kind of disrespect or anything. *virtual hug*

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[shepscapades]

Hiii I LOVEEEEE your DBC AU so much!!!!! You've given me a concerning level of brainrot =w= I just have question about the new part that just came out: why is Etho going crazy? Is it bc of the trauma? Or is it smth else?

HI thank you!!! <3 It’s been mentioned here and there (I think I talked about it in the Part 1 post), but it’s probably not a bad idea to recap every now and then for any new folks. (I then proceeded to write everything out more detail than I’ve ever talked about it before!) so hopefully this makes things a little more clear! Gbjdghkvjm

Etho, who was still trying to get used to a full range of emotions on top of his first life series, had a REALLY hard time with how Last Life ended— the adrenaline and fear of Death Games’ Survival of the Fittest and being pit against all of his friends is one thing, but something about his relationship with bdubs was so much more important to him, and he essentially blames himself for bdubs’ permanent death in the series. He vividly remembers (has recorded + logged the memories of) himself telling bdubs he wouldn’t give him a life unless he killed one of the other reds— remembers bdubs saying he’ll kill to earn the life, remembers him looking so earnest and determined, vividly remembers the moment the message rang out that Bdubs had gotten his kill, and the message that Grian had killed Bdubs shortly after.

Etho never quite forgave himself for being the self-perceived reason bdubs dies (after all, he should have just given bdubs the life if he really cared and wanted him to survive), and he takes this grief back with him as they return to Hermitcraft Season 8. As someone who’s very new to feelings of guilt and failure, you can imagine how hard he took this— reviewing the memories again and again, trying to understand why he made those decisions, realizing how selfish he is, comparing his “failure to protect bdubs” to when he was first assigned to Bdubs, when he sacrificed himself to keep Bdubs safe.

As the moon situation escalated and hermitcraft got increasingly busy, Etho couldn’t find it in himself to confront bdubs (maybe not seeing himself fit to deserve bdubs’ forgiveness, or fearing Bdubs’ disappointment or anger with him) and his fears and regrets kind of slowly ate away at him until it shut him down. It’s actually a recurring theme for Etho that, because of the damage he sustained from the creeper blast that caused his deviancy, his systems are actually kind of fragile when it comes to pushing them to their extremes. When he feels an extraordinary amount of overwhelming emotion, his thirium pump starts to work in overdrive, and thirium starts leaking from all of the places his shell is cracked— his face, his shoulder, and his arm.

So the idea is that, Etho returns to Season 8 trying to… more or less forget about what happened— except he can’t, he’s obsessed with what happened, and his emotions start to overwhelm him until thirium starts to leak and whatnot. But I think deviants are fairly used to “dismissing” warnings, as sometimes their thirium pump will skip, their temperature will rise, or other system updates may happen when they feel certain emotions, and Etho is so distracted (or. Trying to be distracted) that he doesn’t realize he’s dismissing Thirium Loss notifications until it’s too late. He begins to shut down with Last Life on his mind, and the system errors that follow are all garbled out.

This technically happens before the moon destroys the server, which means etho is offline, or broken, or what have you, when the server gets destroyed, and this is actually what truly glitches him out. When Xisuma and Doc try to reboot him at the beginning of season 9, Etho’s system is caught on a glitch: Etho had shut down thinking about last life, so his programming is trying to eliminate the threat who killed bdubs as an attempt to fix what happened (bdubs dying). Etho’s trying to eliminate grian (who isn’t a threat anymore, because this isn’t last life, last life was ages ago) but he’s not thinking straight and can’t process anything beyond the Desperation+Fear+Guilt. Since Grian’s not in the room, he goes for the next best thing: the person who might be able to tell him where Grian is: the server admin. Doc just gets in the way of Etho trying to get to Xisuma, so Etho “decommissions” Doc in an attempt to remove him from the equation.

So um. Yeah! That should be everything more or less explained… hopefully it also clears up some details you may or may not notice in the comics! Etho starts leaking thirium throughout the destruction comics, Etho goes for Xisuma first… Etho having memory flashbacks of Last Life. If anything is particularly confusing feel free to ask more questions! But it’s kinda nice to be able to write out how I’ve logic’d out all of this happening in my head hehe (i plan on posting the DBHC Etho playlist soon with a brief explanation of each song in Etho’s timeline, so hopefully that will help too!) :]

[asterdisaster06]

141 Crack Fluff Fic

platonic 141 x f!reader

summary > how you had integrated into task force 141 and the subsequent silly interactions afterwards

word count > 2.2k

warnings > brief mention of violent mission gone wrong. i can never exclude a little angst from my fics. never.

ao3

You never really saw it within yourself, but your skills to others seemed unmatched. You quickly rose the ranks and befriended all the right people. Not to say you were a nepo baby, definitely not. You were just overly friendly and people gravitated towards you and your outlandish jokes. You had earned your place on the base. That’s for sure. Whatever situation you were placed or stumbled into, you had managed to escape relatively unscathed - earning you the callsign Lucky. Although, a lot of people favored calling you Happy Go Lucky, due to your natural cheerful disposition. 

It was certainly something that brought a smile to your face everytime you heard it. It’s something to be proud of to remain that cheerful in your career, and you were reminded of it on every mission. They took a toll on you, but you figured that it doesn’t do any good to be brooding and despondent when it’s all over. And when it comes to it, you know you’ve tried your best. This particular response of yours definitely gained the notice of a lot of people, one including a particular CIA supervisor. 

Although, you can’t exactly say that how it went down was credited to just your personality. Actually, it went down three separate times. All of them. . . questionable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The first instance began when you were out shopping at the on base store; needing a single ingredient for what you wanted to bake, much to your chagrin. You were behind Laswell in line and she was checking out an assortment of items. At the very last second she spoke. 

“Can you hand me that kinder-joy right there? Make it four.”

At first you didn’t quite realize she was talking to you, having to point a finger at yourself as you stared dumbfounded at her. Eventually, after she had nodded, you looked around and found the candy on the shelf - handing it to her. 

“Is it for your kids?” You ask, curious about this stranger that you’ve seen a few times around base already. 

“No, for my team, though you could call them children,” She laughs.

And that was the end of that situation really. Leaving it at that might not have had any unintended consequences, but of course the world had other plans. You saw her about a week from that day if you remember correctly. You were taking a walk out in the autumn weather, bundled up in a nice hoodie on a park bench, trying to coax the birds to eat the birdseed you had brought with you. Coincidentally, Kate Laswell was in this exact park at the exact same time as you. And she just so happened to sit down next to you. Not like there were really any other benches to sit on, truly an oversight on the architect of this place. You vaguely remember her asking if you wanted something to eat, to which you responded yes. Nonetheless, however she had managed to leave her phone on the bench, what happened next was the memorable part.

The phone started ringing, and while you weren’t going to answer, you were a tad bit nosy. Peering over, you could see the screen with the contact of “The Death of Me.” It made you laugh aloud, wondering exactly who had done what in order to earn that name. Whenever Kate came back to you, you offered her phone back. 

“Hey, you forgot your phone here. Someone named ‘The Death of Me’ was calling you,” You laugh nervously. 

“Oh, thanks. That would be Price, I wonder what he’s gotten up to this time.”

You two had ended up chatting a bit about both missions and average day to day life alike. You learn a little bit about her wife and she learns a little bit about life in the barracks. You gush about your squadmates and your current favorite weapons. She speaks about her boys, and you learn a little bit about them and the 141 task force through her.

It was odd how easily you two held a conversation, but she claims it was just how easy going you were that drew her to your carefree self. 

Eventually you two parted ways, assuring each other that you’d see each other around sometime soon. And soon you did. It was on a mission, a harsh one where you had already lost numerous soldiers in the fight, with more casualties than you could count. Your hands were stained red, and you couldn’t tell whose blood it was at this point. Your calls for backup had gone unanswered, and you could only assume it was because they were KIA. At this point you had too many dog tags in your pocket than you ever should. The jingle of them kept you alive, knowing that the bodies were likely being crushed under the rubble with the original tag being buried with them. 

You needed to get home to bring peace to the families, to let them know that their beloved soldier hadn’t died in vain. Your breathing was harsh and ragged; and to be honest, you had blacked out. Your body still carrying you forward with gashes in your side, protesting. Bruises you could feel already forming underneath your skin. You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, likely the reason why it took so long for Laswells voice to cut through your delirious state. 

She had saved you, and a few others. You had passed out at her feet, tripping over your own boots. If you hadn’t lost so much blood you might’ve had the self respect to feel a tad bit embarrassed. 

“This wasn’t exactly what I meant when I said, ‘see you soon,’” Were your first words to her when you woke up from your three day coma. 

Her heartfelt laugh ran up your veins from where she was holding your hand right into your heart. It was a nice feeling. It could be said that this is what cemented your following promotions up until you felt ready to accept her offer of joining Task Force 141, but you like to think it was the kinder-joys. 

The one thing you remember walking up to the taskforce compound on the other side of the base is the tingling sensation running from your toes to the tips of your fingers. Anxiety being an ever present enemy despite your sunny personality. 

You stood in front of the door, debating whether or not you should knock or wait around until someone came through the door. The answer was given to you through the door swinging wide open. Right into your face. The thud your face had made when it came into contact with the door was not a good sign. The warmth running down from your nose was even less of a good sign. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit, I’m so fucking sorry-” A posh British voice cut through the ringing of your ears due to the straight whiplash given from the accident. 

“You’re fine,” You offer up a bloody smile through garbled words, holding up your sleeve to your face. 

“But you’re not! Come on, let’s get you to the medical wing, love,” Is the response you get before getting coddled all the way down to the medic. 

You soon learned that this accident prone man was named Gaz, and he was going to be one of your coworkers soon. Not exactly the best first impression, but it could’ve been worse. At least it wasn’t similar to how you met Soap MacTavish. Now that was a memorable moment that you both still bring up to this day. 

It had started the day after you met Gaz. Laswell and Price decided that a medical bay introduction surrounded by bloody tissues wasn’t the best team meeting place, so you were allowed a brief respite before an official introduction. You were on your way to the breakroom, hoping to switch out your now melted ice pack for another, more frozen one. As you turn away from the inside of the freezer, you’re met with a familiar sight. That motherfucker.

“Hey, I heard you’re the new recruit, Lass-” Soap starts, being quickly cut off by your angry rambling. 

“You’re the kid who kept stealing my pencils in primary school and just never gave them back!” You shout at him, probably quite a sight with a bruised face and a pea ice bag held in your hand. 

“Woah, woah, that’s quite the accusation! I’m sure I did no such thing,” He says, holding his hands up in an attempt to diffuse the situation. 

“Oh I’m sure you are,” You say, squinting your eyes at him. 

“I don’t remember this!” 

“I was only there for two years and still you managed to torment me by stealing my shit!” 

“What the fuck is going on here,” A gruff voice cuts in.

“Price! Help! She’s accusing me of theft!” Soap cries out indignantly, pointing a finger in your general direction.

“Because he did!”

“I’m inclined to believe her over you MacTavish, now whatever you owe her, hand it over,” Price says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It was decades ago!”

“And she still remembers it?”

“They were fookin’ pencils! That’s all!” Soap cries out.

Safe to say Price made sure you got the pencils you were owed and then some. Soap still grumbles about it from time to time, but all in good nature. Considering you received almost a hundred pencils, you took a fancy to handing them out to the recruits just to piss Soap off. Nothing like seeing all the rookies take their written test with pretty pastel pencils that reflect your bright personality. 

Your interactions with Price were kept pretty professional, only really interacting for paperwork or mission related subjects. However, there’s one incident that still stands out in your mind. It was late at night and you had finally finished filling out some official paperwork that Price had asked you to look over. You knock on his office door and hear some shuffling about before he finally says to come on.

As you enter you are met with a disheveled Price who appears to have some crumbs stuck in his beard. 

“Uhm, Captain, you have a little something-” You say, motioning to your own face around your mouth.

He quickly takes a napkin and wipes it away, looking a tad bit sheepish.

“Y’know, Price, it almost looked like crumbs belonging to the-”

“Not a word.”

The context of this situation still makes you giggle a little bit. You had brought a cake that you had baked for fun into the compound and dished out the slices. There was exactly one slice left over for Ghost who was away on a solo mission. You thought it would be a nice welcome home for him. Unfortunately, you forgot to mention this to Price. You had been running around to Soap, Gaz, and even Laswell who was around and had managed to remind them, but you had said it so many times you forgot to mention to save the last slice for Ghost. If this was all, perhaps it would’ve been your fault. However, Price had somehow managed to ignore the sticky note on the container meant for Ghost. You had managed to make something for Ghost on quick notice, but you have always teased Price about this subtly. 

Speaking of Ghost, his interactions were always interesting. Your personalities were exactly opposite; although, you guys had managed to accept each other for what you were. Even his dark jokes made you laugh a few times. And a rare smile seemed to be on his face whenever you were around, not that it was easy to tell. Your first interaction with him was definitely interesting. It makes you embarrassed even recounting it, although Soap never lets you live it down. 

It began on a, what once was, nice morning. Unfortunately it was about to go downhill quite quickly. You hadn’t met Ghost at this point. When this had occurred, you had only been with the 141 Task Force for less than a week. Ghost had been busy on a mission with Gaz, who had left you with a little get well gift basket before he left as an apology. 

You were sitting in the breakroom, sipping a cup of coffee that Soap had made you as a peace offering. It wasn’t actually half bad. You were lost in your thoughts when you suddenly felt a presence behind you. Mid-sip, you turn in your chair, face to face with the grim reaper himself. Unfortunately, your body decided the best course of action was to gasp, meaning that you started to asphyxiate and then proceeded to spit your coffee all over Ghost. What a waste of good coffee. 

Ghost never held a grudge against you for this, understanding that he is in fact “quite a spooky scary skeleton” as you quoted verbatim. Nonetheless, Soap, who had just entered the room as this happened, absolutely lost it. Doubled over laughing. Tears in his eyes. The entire works. 

Despite all of your interactions with your boys, ranging from hilarious to quite unsavory, you wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s what keeps things interesting around here as you like to say. 

[creators-island]

I’ve come to realize this grimwalkers needed their own palisman! So here we go!

Alexander’s palisman was the easiest of them all since his hair have always reminded me of lions; Lions symbolize courage, protection, leadership, passionate relationships, and strong self-esteem. Lion is a powerful “golden leader” that uses integrity and compassion to help shift the world towards positive change.

Alexander is the eldest which means he has a strong sense of protection over his family, he also has a strong self confidence when he’s in charge of some project, he’s also the most passionate on his work and uses every recourse in his possession to make it absolute perfect.  

His palisman also has Bat wings and that’s bc Bats have qualities of both the bird and the mouse, rendering this animal a symbol of ANDROGYNE; it also has strong associations with darkness and obscurity, as a creature of the night. In Christian terms, the bat is viewed as "the bird of the devil", an incarnation of the Prince of Darkness.

That way we can view the duality in Alexander’s character, being a charismatic leader, a golden statue and a responsible role model that also struggles to overcome his own struggles with being a control freak that will keep all of his teammates in the dark in favor of protecting them from the truth or to do what he thinks is the best.

Allegra’s palisman was originally meant to be a frog which represents Poison, Hallucination, Transcendence: The Alchemical Amphibian. One of the other forms of power that frogs and toads wield in many cultures and myths is chemical, or alchemical: frogs are viewed as the purveyors of poison or of powerful drugs, which can heal or induce hallucinations.  Frogs also represent wealth, abundance, ancient wisdom, rebirth, and good luck.

THIS PALISMAN DESIGNS MIGHT CHANGE IN THE FUTURE

Allegra is the first youngest of the group (before hunter at least), that’s why i wanted to represent her intelligence and hyperactivity with an animal that is known for their energy but at the same time for their adaptation capability.

For some reason i also wanted to add a scavengers features to symbolize her interest in necromancy, she’s a very intelligent and curious person but she can’t let things go, much less people. Her necessity to know everything lets her to be TERRIFIED of death bc it’s unknown for her

This also led her to harm herself a lot in pursuit of understanding what death really feels like, it’s only luck that she didn’t accidentally ended up killing herself in one of her “experiments”, but somehow she seems to not notice or maybe she actively ignores it. She constantly hallucinates with death people talking to her, her own brain is trying to convince herself there’s life beyond death.

Isaiah’s palisman was quite a problem, I wasn’t convince with any of the animals was a good reflection of him. At first i wanted it to be a bird like a parrot or a monkey or a fenix, but none of them fit right for me. Then it hit me; Isaiah is a very lonely, depressed, melancholic and self-hated character. Someone who looks very thought and threatening but in reality he doesn’t care about anything.

That’s why his perfect companion would be a shark; in tarot Shark speaks of how you survive, and how willing you are to keep moving, even in the face of adversity. Shark is a feared predator, and if Shark is showing up in your life it does so to guide you through conflict and tough decision making. This creature reminds you of your personal power and the inner strength necessary to get rid of negativity.

I don’t know how to draw fishes but i did my best. i decided to draw it with fins that act like tiny little legs, just bc it looked cute, no other reason.

Isaiah is the second oldest, he can relate a lot to the others and acts like the guide they need when there’s a dangerous or stressful situations. When needed he’s the shield or the knife, but when not he just passes by calmly. 

He has an unwillingness to be victimised or intimidated by others. He’s quite emotionless and steely yet always seemingly maintain his sense of calm and determination.

He’s constantly seem as the confidant, Alexander relies on him when things are getting too much for him and he’s constantly ask for guidance or help in personal matters. Isaiah is not really afraid of managing other people's vulnerability and emotions (“be and let be” ) but he would rather drown his own insecurities in alcohol than open up to the people he loves.

This leads him to an unhealthy coping mechanism in which he would close off and drink until he collapses. His self worth is base in how he manage to survive all the trauma in his life, contrary to Allegra he’s not scare of death but he doesn’t chases it either. He’s a very calm person, even if drunk he never chases problems unless someone he loves is in danger or distress. 

[soloavengers]

Arisen & Pawn Info

Using @arisenreborn’s template, this was fun to fill out.

♛ THE ARISEN:

NAME: Sylvas AGE: 20 RACE: Human PRONOUNS: He/him ALIGNMENT: Chaotic good PREFERRED VOCATION: Mystic spearhand FAVORED GIFTS: Cloaks, curatives, anything interesting FAMILY: Deceased parents. (But Winterheart, really)

POSITIVE TRAITS: He’s helpful and kind, perhaps he has difficulty saying no when someone asks for help or a favor. It doesn’t mean he’s dependable, but he ALWAYS tries his very best. Ready to jump into the fray of any battle if someone needs a hand, like wandering pawns. He’s gentle, compassionate and easy to talk to. Very excitable, curious and energetic (would remind one of a Simple pawn). He’s friendly, in his own way.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Overconfident and reckless, you’d often see him rushing into a fight by throwing himself in the middle of a group of enemies (much to Winnie’s dismay and careful planning). He doesn’t see the fault in himself when it comes to such flaws, even when he’s disheartened after a bad battle caused by these actions, while Winterheart gently scolds him. He can be too blunt and impulsive when interacting with people, breaking social norms despite how hard he tries not to. Easily distracted, too curious it gets him in awful situations. He’s awful at talking about his own feelings.

LIKES: Animals, adventuring, monster culling, heights, treasure, Winterheart’s paintings, forests and camping. The color green. Regentkin Sven.

DISLIKES: Rattlers. (& Disappointing others. The overwhelming uncertainty of what his future holds. The odd feeling he gets after defeating a drake. The empty feeling in his chest intensifies every day. Why?)

What was their life like before becoming Arisen?

His veteran father moved himself and little Syl out of their village in northern Vermund to a cottage in a forest nearby for a ranger job, after his mother’s death. He raised Sylvas and trained him in the use of melee weapons and archery, taught him hunting for sport and (after a certain age,) hunting monsters. He nursed a wolf pup with pale fur to health, she was their protector and Syl’s best friend growing up. He never allowed Syl to explore the forest without her. Monsters became more and more frequent as the dragon’s coming neared. He lost his father little over a year prior to becoming the Arisen, grief drove him away from the forest like it drove his father away from the village. He recovered his love for nature, exploring and battling monsters after losing his memories.

How do they handle being Arisen, and the responsibilities that come with it?

After remembering the events in Melve, he couldn’t deny it and grew quite interested in the Dragon and his connection to it (and the drakes). In a somewhat innocent way, he always longed to have some sort of connection to a beast, so he may be glorifying it. The responsibility, the charge… He doesn’t understand it, but suppose if he does what people he trusts want of him (to become Sovran), and leads the pawns well he’s doing alright. Surely this path will lead to getting his heart back. 

What are their thoughts on Pawns in general?

Syl grew up with Very little human contact outside of his father, making him shy and awkward when people visit. However he knew pawns, as there were times his father hired sellsword pawns to help with monster hunting. He found them easier to interact with than humans for some reason. Later, it’s the presence of his pawns that helped him come out of his shell. As they're less like the pawns he knew growing up and more like humans, that are still oddly easier to talk to. He’d always tell them he’s lucky to have them, and tends to rehire pawns he likes quite a lot.

What's their relationship like with their main Pawn?

He loves Winterheart, she’s become his family like Winterheart the wolf was. He’d often grumble and say she isn’t “a fun sort” for caring about silly things like strategy and planning, but he realizes that her strictness keeps him alive. He cares for her beyond words. A partner like her is what he needs to keep going, to put it simply. He tries his best to take her input before a fight despite that comment, and her opinion before a decision, and tries harder to keep to it. 

Do they have any interest in being Sovran? What are their opinions on the politics of the world in general?

Not at first, but early enough into the journey he remembered how he felt like he lost his life even before the Dragon, and he grew to accept that his path as the Arisen will lead to a new life as Sovran. He grew to understand that it’s a necessity and not simply a privilege he didn’t ask for, as well as feeling himself grow more and more responsible. Captain Brant and Sven’s help gives him a lot of confidence, and there’s little he wouldn’t do to make them proud. During his travels he began writing a journal to keep track of things he plans to take action against or in favor of as Sovran. He tries his best to understand the politics of the world, and he has gathered many historical books (though reading them is another matter.) So, suppose he does have interest, if only for the sake of Vermund and having something to live for. And, well… he can’t be worse than a false Sovran puppet of a tyrant, can he?

Who are their love interest(s) and/or closest friends?

His closest friend is his loyal pawn. He got better at making friends by way of helping, and when a couple of his new friendships seemed to develop into something more, he’d feel he isn’t good enough. Yet, oddly he didn’t feel that way with Sven, perhaps because he cannot be with him even if he wanted to. His feelings are known and returned, but it’s no more than little visits to the castle for quiet talks. Sven might have gone to his dwelling once or twice, as the rumor goes.

What drew them to their preferred vocation? Do they have history with it? 

His father trained him with regular spears, along with swords and bows. So before meeting Sigurd he preferred to be a fighter or an archer. Then learning the skills of a mystic spearhand he found, is a thrill. It’s the amount of magic he’s comfortable using, and it’s a weapon he was already a little familiar with. And despite Sigurd being a mystery, he feels kinship with the man and wishes to make him proud.

Do they have any hobbies? Any way of relaxing between all that monster-slaying and traveling?

Monster slaying and travel is his joy, but yes, he likes carving wood. He gifts them to friends and hired pawns, often a carving of their favorite animal or monster. He enjoys collecting little things that catch his eyes, and experimenting with ingredients more than necessary.

♟︎ THE PAWN:

NAME: Winterheart AGE: ??? RACE: Half-elf PRONOUNS: She/her ALIGNMENT: Neutral good PREFERRED VOCATION: Warrior FAVORED GIFTS: Flowers, swords, paint, and anything Syl gives her. INCLINATION: Calm.

POSITIVE TRAITS: She’s caring and gentle, she seems to always know the best thing to do or say when someone (especially her Arisen) is struggling in almost any situation. She’s observant and quick to act in battles, would rather she didn’t have to have to be, if only all their battles were carefully planned.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Passive aggressive when in a bad mood. Overprotective of Sylvas even outside of battles, her opinion of a person would change entirely if they as much as made him frown, no matter the context. Too quiet (according to Syl). Too careful (also according to Syl). Overexerts herself often in fights, be it in defense of the Arisen and their companions or as she tries to take most foes down so they wouldn’t have to. 

LIKES: Her Gryphic Victory greatsword, beautiful sights, Vernworth, children, days spent in towns and villages, well planned battles. The lightest pink color. Ser Ulrika.

DISLIKES: Bandits. Syl’s inability to learn not to rush headfirst into battle. The emptiness of her past. Plans getting ignored, strategies overlooked. Raspberries. Rainy weather.

What was their life like prior to being summoned by their Arisen?

Long ago Winterheart was formed by an Arisen that didn’t live long enough for them to be well connected, she hardly remembers them. She wandered the rift and has done her duties in different worlds, often for humans as a sellsword. She was summoned for Sylvas for her similarity to the wolf his father had adopted, whose detachment to a pack was akin to her detachment to her Arisen. As well as her calm yet overprotective personality. In short, her past was a stretch of longing for what she finally has. 

What is their opinion on the Arisen? How do they view their relationship?

She’s very fond of Syl, she thinks the world of him, for all his flaws. Winnie thinks that as long as he has her, he will make it (really, there are no doubts anymore… only fear. Lots of fear.) It took her a while to accept that she was summoned, chosen again, and longer to believe that it might just last. At first she was bitter when she saw how reckless her Arisen is, believing this long awaited gift will be taken from her because he’s young and fearless, then she realized it doesn’t have to be that way if she protects him well. She helps him stay alive and he helps her feel alive, that’s how she views it.

Is there anything about the Arisen they find troublesome? Be it a small quirk or bad habit? (Or are they obviously flawless?)

Uhh. 

What is their specialization and is there any story behind how they cultivated that skill set? 

Chirurgeon. It was simply learned, and she’s glad of it. It’s what Syl needs most, even outside of battles (is it so hard to estimate a fall, or how hot the water is?) It’s a comfort for her to be specialized in healing, there were times where Sylvas didn’t notice he was poisoned!

Do they have any thoughts on the politics of the world and their place in it as a Pawn - or how Pawns are treated? 

It does put her down at times, and she would like to see anyone who’s wrongfully controlling pawns Dead. But she’s in the world to do her duty, politics don’t matter next to it. She’s however pleased her Arisen is doing something about it, and she’s there to help when she can.

Does their journey with the Arisen change them in any significant way and how? 

It got her out of the shell losing her former Arisen and wandering had shoved her in. She’s a lot more confident in her abilities and place, and in Sylvas as well. Winterheart is aware of more… integral changes, and while they make her feel alive, she instead feels dreadful when she notices Syl changing. But it’s the way of the Arisen and Pawn relationship, it’s out of her hands. She tries to remind him of who he is and what he loves most when it looks like his mind and soul is elsewhere.

Is there a reason they chose their preferred vocation? 

It was the vocation she used during her travels before Sylvas summoned her as an archer. In a distant past she was a mage, though she doesn’t remember having had enough time to perfect her skills as a mage. She misses being a warrior whenever she isn’t.

Do they have any hobbies or preferred past-times?

She likes painting scenery! Often while camping, she loses sleep just to stay up painting their surroundings on paper. When traveling with other Arisen, she likes for them to keep a painting. However if their world is so different, she would take one for Syl.

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 66

Chapter 66: “The Forbidden Game, Part 1”

Ooohoho boy, here they come. Their designs are a hundred times better than any wild, enemy demon shown in season two.

Did Emma’s possession of the pen not already make it clear that she was unlike the other kids? Or the fact that she was dropped off here alone? And I know it’s not visible most of the time with the shelter jacket & turtleneck, but surely catching a glimpse of Emma’s ID on her neck would help prove she’s not one of the usual Grand Valley kids.

Normal people would usually run in the opposite direction if they heard a scream. Clearly, our girl doesn’t fall into that category and I mean that in the most sincere way possible.

These poor Grand Valley kids getting quite a rude awaken to what kind of world they’re living in by being hunted by demons. It’s like getting shipped straight to your death from Grace Field almost seems less troublesome than fighting for your life every three days for years on end.

It’s not gonna be the last time we hear prey get a ten second head start. But yeah, I must really be blind if I’m only noticing now that Luce has four arms. I wanna say I must’ve noticed it sometime before and perhaps I just forgot, but I really dunno.

I did question why the face of one of Luce’s assistants was all messed up in other panels, but it seems I got my answer as it was Monica who managed to cause some damage. Now that’s something I have no memory of. Good for her!

When you’re so boring that the most dangerous poacher actually ends up letting you go instead. Quite some luck you have there, Johnny. (unfortunately it doesn’t last the whole story.)

Aahha, she is so quick to act! Kinda impressive how no one even realized she was running towards them until this moment either.

This! Literally all of this is fantastic! The damn accuracy she has even during a spur of the moment decision and how she would’ve definitely killed Luce if Leuvis didn’t step in to catch the axe with this skinny, chopstick-looking fingers. (S2 denied us of many things but at least we got this stunning animatic from Note to swoon over.)

Her mind is going a mile a minute and she still manages to look to the bright side of things despite the very dangerous situation she got thrown into.

He’s a complete psycho, but I’ll be damned, he does make for a real threatening antagonist (not the best in my mind, of course, but still way up there, like second). I actually had him in my top ten once upon a time, but switched him out with Oliver last minute.

Favorite panel/moment:

I can’t remember exactly who on here said way back whenever how these panels show more character development for Emma than all of season two, but YES. Absolutely true!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Starclan’s Reason (short story)

“Are you insane?”

Jumptail closed his eyes for a few long seconds, hearing the she-cat approach him. He knew what was coming, he had experienced it and had seen others experience it enough times. He turned around to greet Willowbloom, her fur bristling until she was twice her size and her eyes round and wild.

She had passed recently, many moons after the deaths of her sons. That also meant that she had learned quite recently–Jumptail guessed, by the looks of her–very recently indeed–that her younger son, Sprucepaw, had been sent to the Dark Forest.

Beside Jumptail, Firebird sighed. It wasn’t one of exasperation, rather sadness. The she-cat had been a mother herself to four litters. Jumptail couldn’t imagine the pain of learning something so awful about the fate of your kit, even as he looked into the devastation in Willowbloom’s eyes, staring him down. 

She showed her teeth. “He was hardly out of the nursery! Yet you condemn him to suffer an eternity in the worst possible place? Where he’ll be surrounded by murderers and betrayers and-and-and-”

‘Your son was a murderer,’ Jumptail stopped himself from saying. It wouldn’t help the situation.

“It’s heartless,” Jumptail agreed. “A decision made by facts, not emotion.”

That was the wrong choice of words, as Willowbloom snarled. “Maybe you should have utilized emotion! Maybe then you could have realized that exiling a kit from Starclan was wrong! Ha!” she scoffed roughly. “’Facts, not emotion.’ What facts are possibly worth the life of a kit?” Her tail flicked ominously as she waited impatiently for their response.

“Do you know what he did?” Jumptail began cautiously. 

“Of course I was told!” Willowbloom hissed. “And I don’t care–whether it’s true or not or intentional or not–because he was eight moons old, for Starclan’s sake! How was he supposed to know the ramifications of his actions when just two moons prior, he was nestling at his mommy’s belly? It was the only harm he had ever done, as horrible as it had been. He had always tried so hard to be the best warrior his Clanmates could have. Now he can’t even serve them in death!”

Jumptail nodded as she spoke, thinking carefully about his next words. He was both thankful and disgusted that he had had experience with this situation, and had an idea of how to respond. Even then, Firebird beat him to it. When Willowbloom finished, Firebird ran her tail along Willowbloom’s puffed spine.

“I can’t begin to imagine the pain,” Firebird admitted gently. “Your anger goes beyond understandable–it’s something I can never understand, if I wanted to or not. But if any one of my own kits went through the same fate as yours, I can assure you, I would be tearing away at every cat I saw.”

Don’t give her ideas, Jumptail thought, but let her speak.

“Nice words,” Willowbloom sniffed, a mixture of contempt and anguish. “But cheering me up doesn’t change the fact that my son is suffering!” her voice, which had fallen low, increased until she was once again screeching. “I want my son! I want Sprucepaw! Bring him to me!”

“We can’t,” Firebird told her softly.

Willowbloom’s voice cracked. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe,” Jumptail spoke up.

Willowbloom turned on him. “My son would never hurt anyone!”

Jumptail raised a paw, indicating for her to wait. “It wouldn’t be safe for him. I know, and agree, that in spite of the fact that what he did was deeply wrong, he was young and likely didn’t know what it was he was doing. But he did kill, and in many eyes, that means he could kill again, and that puts ourselves in danger.”

“Did you not hear me?” Willowbloom growled.

Firebird ran her tail back along her spine. “We did, please listen to us for a few moments, please.” 

Willowbloom closed her jaws, though her eyebrows were still furrowed and her claws remained unsheathed. The glare she set on Jumptail burned through him.

“View of him would become distorted. They wouldn’t care, sad that it is, how or why he killed. All they would care about is the fact that he did kill. Many would believe–even if that belief goes against the truth–that he could harm someone, especially someone vulnerable, like a kit or apprentice. Their mothers,” Jumptail added quickly when Willowbloom opened her mouth, “would be overprotective. They wouldn’t want to risk losing their kits, again. Because of that, they might choose to harm–even kill–him before he could their kits.”

“But that’s not fair!” Willowbloom’s snarls were turning into desperate cries. “He wouldn’t do that! He deserves a place here!”

“He would be ridiculed here,” Firebird pointed out. “Even if he wasn’t harmed, would anyone want to befriend him? Associate with him? Or are they more likely to avoid him, bully him, spit at him for his crime? Can you honestly say with dead certainty, that your son would be content here?”

“He would have me.”

“Just one supporter for all of eternity,” Jumptail said. 

“It’s better than being surrounded by actual murderers, cats known for killing! How can you say it would be safer for him there than here?”

“Not everyone was a murderer,” Firebird began. “Fewer would harm someone so young. There have been innocent ones like Sprucepaw, older and younger, and ones who’s crimes were believed to be for the greater good. For every single resident in the Dark Forest to be a complete heartless monster would be, well, what we would all like to believe, but it’s just not logical. Out there are cats who understand him in ways we never could. They will look past his actions and see him. He will be safe. Someone will make sure of it.”

Willowbloom was silent for a long moment. Then, she curled her lip and whipped around. “I can make sure of it.”

==============================

--Wanted to make something that explains parts of Starclan’s reason for, well, you get it. Will be making a post about it later that sums it up and expands on other reasons a bit more.

--You probably all know Jumptail by now, but Firebird was also very briefly mentioned in a story before. The story was Little Stars, about Mottlekit and Greykit!

--Jumptail and Firebird weren’t targeted specifically they’re probably just the first Starclan cats she saw other than kin.

--Willow DOES care that her son killed her other son, she hates that that happened, but that doesn’t make her love Sprucepaw any less or cause her to be content with his damnation.

--Sorry if the story is structured odd lol I just finished several hours of studying.

[goldislops]

No Beginning, No Ending, No Fear

When you’re afraid of what might happen, remember that all you have is now.

Norman FischerSummer 2021

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No Beginning, No Ending, No Fear

Photograph by PlainPicture

The Buddha has many epithets. He’s called the Enlightened One, the One Who Thus Comes and Goes, the Conqueror, the Noblest of All Humans Who Walk on Two Legs. He is also called the Fearless One because he has seen through all the causes of fear. His awakening moment, coming suddenly after six years of intense meditation, shows him that there is actually nothing to fear. Fear—convincing as it may seem—is actually a conceptual mistake.

What is there to be afraid of anyway? Fear is always future-based. We fear what might happen later. The past is gone, so there’s no point in being afraid of it. If past traumas cause fear in us, it is only because we fear that the traumatic event will reoccur. That’s what trauma is—wounding caused by a past event that makes us chronically fearful about the future and so queasy in the present. But the future doesn’t exist now, in the present, the only moment in which we are ever alive. So though our fear may be visceral, it is based on a misconception, that the future is somehow now. It’s not. The present might be unpleasant and even dangerous, but it is never fearful. In the full intensity of the present moment there is never anything to fear—there is only something to deal with. It is a subtle point but it is absolutely true: the fear I experience now is not really present-moment based: I am afraid of what is going to happen. This is what the Buddha realized. If you could be in the radical present moment, not lost in the past, not anxious about the future, you could be fearless.

If you are suddenly threatened by an intense-looking guy pointing a gun at your head, you will likely be frozen with fear. But even then, it isn’t the appearance of the man and the gun that you are afraid of. It’s what is going to happen next. It is true, though, that in that moment you are not thinking about the future. Your experience is immediate, body-altering fear. Your reaction is biological; you can’t help it. As an animal, you have survival instinct, so when your life is threatened your reaction is automatic and strong. But you are a human animal with human consciousness—a problematic condition, but one with possibilities. It is possible that you could overcome your animal fear.

There are many recorded instances in the scriptures of the Buddha’s life being threatened. In all such cases the Buddha remains calm and subdues the threat. Though the stories may or may not be mythical, they certainly intend to tell us that we are capable of overcoming the survival instinct and remaining calm even in the face of grave danger. The truth is, in many dangerous situations the ability to stay calm will keep you safer than your gut reaction of fight or flight.

But what if your life weren’t actually being threatened? What if the only thing actually happening to you was insult, disrespect, frustration, or betrayal, but you reacted with the alarm and urgency of someone whose life was at stake? And continued, long after the event, to harbor feelings of anger and revenge? In that case, your reaction would be out of scale with the event, your animal instinct for survival quite misplaced. You would have taken a relatively small matter and made it into something much more unpleasant, and even more harmful, than it needed to be.

Impermanence is the basic Buddhist concept. Nothing lasts. Our life begins, it ends, and every moment that occurs between this beginning and ending is another beginning and ending. In other words, every moment we are disappearing a little. Life doesn’t end suddenly at death. It is ending all the time. Impermanence is constant.

Although we all understand this when we think about it, we seem not to be capable of really taking it in. Buddhism teaches that behind all our fears is our inability to actually appreciate, on a visceral level, this truth of impermanence. Unable to accept that we are fading away all the time, we are fearful about the future, as if somehow if everything went exactly right we could be preserved for all time. To put this another way, all our fears are actually displacements of the one great fear, the fear of death.

These days we have fears that seem to go beyond our personal fear of death. Climate change is a catastrophe. In the fall of 2018 we had terrible forest fires in California. Even as far away from the fires as the San Francisco Bay Area, where I live, you could smell the smoke. You couldn’t go outside, the air was so bad. But even worse than the experience was the thought that this is the future, this is how it is going to be from now on. There are going to be more and more fires, hurricanes, typhoons; the ice caps are melting, sea levels and summer temperatures are rising, the planet is slowly becoming uninhabitable. This may or may not be true, but there are good reasons to fear that it is true. So we feel afraid not for our own death but also for our children and grandchildren and their children and grandchildren. What will happen to them in the future?

I have a friend who is a great outdoorsman and environmental activist. Some years ago, when the US government was just beginning to become active in denying climate change, my friend got really upset. He was upset about climate change realities but even more upset that people weren’t paying attention to them, were denying or ignoring climate change, because the government was casting doubt. Here we were in a desperate situation, something needed to be done right away, and people were going on with their ordinary business as though everything were fine.

My friend was in despair over this, and he would tell me about it. As the years went on his despair and upset grew and grew.

One day when he was telling me about it, I thought, It isn’t climate change he’s upset about. I said this to him, and he got really mad at me. I didn’t really know what he was upset about. But it seemed to me that although he believed it was climate change he was upset about, actually it was something else. He stayed for a while and eventually he said, You were right. So, what is it you are upset about? I asked him. He said, Yes, I am upset about climate change, but I didn’t realize until you brought it up that there is something else I am upset about: I am getting old, I can’t climb mountains like I used to. Who knows how long I will be able to ride my bike for hundreds of miles or do all the things I love to do. I am upset about the climate, but what makes me feel this anguish is that I am scared of my aging and dying. The planet really is under threat. And so am I.

So it may be true that the power of our fear always comes from our fear of endings—our own ending being the closest and most immediate of all endings. When we think of the world of the future, we can feel sorrow, grief, and disappointment that we human beings cannot reverse course and do better, that we seem to be unable to solve a problem we ourselves have caused.

But fear is different, fear is desolation, desperation, anguish, despair, and sometimes anger. Grief, sorrow, disappointment are quiet feelings we can live with. They can be peaceful and poignant, they can be motivating. When we feel these feelings, we can be more compassionate, kinder to one another, we can be patiently active in promoting solutions.

When we understand the real basis of our fear, we can see through it. Will our lives end, will the world end? Yes. But this was always going to be the case. All difficult moments occur in the present, and the present moment, no matter what it brings, is always completely different from our projections about the future. Even if what we fear about the future actually comes to pass, the present moment in which it occurs won’t be anything like the moment we projected in the past. Fear is always fantastic, always fake. What we fear never happens in the way we fear it.

Photograph © Brigitte Lustenberger, courtesy Christophe Guye Galerie

There’s a traditional Buddhist practice to contemplate beginnings and endings, called the five reflections. The reflections gently guide the practitioner in meditating on the fact that old age, sickness, and death are built-in features of the human body and mind, that no one can avoid them. Life begins, therefore it has to end. And being subject to beginning and ending, life is inherently vulnerable.

The point of this meditation isn’t to frighten; quite the opposite: the way to overcome fear is to face it and become familiar with it. Since fear is always fear about the future, to face the present fear, and see that it is misplaced, is to reduce it. When I give myself over, for a period of time, or perhaps on a regular basis, to the contemplation of the realities of my aging and dying, I become used to them. I begin to see them differently. Little by little I come to see that I am living and dying all the time, changing all the time, and that this is what makes life possible and precious. In fact, a life without impermanence is not only impossible, it is entirely undesirable. Everything we prize in living comes from the fact of impermanence. Beauty. Love. My fear of the ending of my life is a future projection that doesn’t take into account what my life actually is and has always been. The integration of impermanence into my sense of identity little by little makes me less fearful.

The reflection on beginnings and endings is taken still further in Buddhist teachings. The closer you contemplate beginnings and endings, the more you begin to see that they are impossible. They can’t exist. There are no beginnings and endings. The Heart Sutra, chanted every day in Zen temples around the world, says that there is no birth and so there is no death either.

What does this mean? We are actually not born. We know this from science, there is nothing that is created out of nothing—everything comes from something, is a continuation and a transformation of something that already exists. When a woman gives birth, she does not really give birth, she simply opens her body to a continuation of herself and the father of the child, to their parents and their parents before them, to the whole human and nonhuman family of life and nonlife that has contributed to the coming together of preexisting elements that we will see as a newborn child. So there really is no birth. This is not a metaphorical truth.

If no beginning, then no ending. There is no death. In what we call death the body does not disappear. It continues its journey forth. Not a single element is lost. The body simply transforms into air and water and earth and sky. Our mind travels on too, its passions, fears, loves, and energies continue on throughout this universe. Because we have lived, the world is otherwise than it would have been, and the energy of our life’s activity travels onward, circulates, joins and rejoins others to make the world of the future. There is no death, there is only continuation. There is nothing to be afraid of.

♦

Excerpted from When You Greet Me I Bow: Notes and Reflections from a Life in Zen by Norman Fischer © 2021. Reprinted with permission of Shambhala Publications.

Norman Fischer is a poet, translator, and Zen Buddhist priest. A Senior Dharma Teacher at the San Francisco Zen Center, he is also the founder and spiritual director of the Everyday Zen Foundation, an organization dedicated to adapting Zen Buddhist teachings to Western culture.

[croissantconnoisseurdinosaur]

Listen, I won't lie to ya'll... This popped into my head again, and I still won't write it for real, BUT I will say I have an update from my brain:

Dazai obviously has a handful of friends to help him through the grief, but there comes a time when they have to let him stand on his own two feet.

He can't.

One night Baby (2yo) is throwing a tantrum because she misses Mommy and Papa and she doesn't want Dad anymore. She's scared and confused, and angry at Dazai for being the only parent she's seen the last few weeks. She screams for y/n and Chuuya, and Dazai has a meltdown where he has to call Yosano and Kunikida for help again because he WILL khs in front of this baby if they don't come help him soon.

Yosano and Kunikida come over and help calm him and the Baby, and sleep over (Yosano and Kunikida each taking up a separate section of the large couch in the living room).

Dazai lets Yosano go back to her life, but he keeps begging Kunikida to stay with him. He eventually moves in after too many consecutive sleepovers, and accepts his fate as roomie.

CUE A COUPLE OF YEARS OF A BUDDY DADDIES SITUATION, Kunikida helping raise this child while sleeping on an air mattress in Dazai's room - while still trying to find a woman to fit his ideals.

Dazai eventually tries for a few meaningless flings with a couple meaningless men and women after about a year, but he's terrible at casual romance - even without a baby and a platonic-coparent/literal-roomie complicating his life. (Think canon Dazai, but worse, and horribly heartbroken. Racked with survivor's guilt, and absolutely unable to even entertain the idea of a date with a potential new partner without being completely wasted and ruining the night - repeatedly sabotaging himself despite the constant gnawing ache of wanting to find someone and feel loved again. -> Bonus: he realizes Kunikida loves him (even if platonically, at first) every time he cleans up his drunken messes and heartbreaks, and it actually fills that void for him for a little bit, so he can just focus on being a good father).

Dazai obviously has horrific nightmares from this whole thing, and it's heartbreaking. One night early on, from the air mattress on Dazai's floor, Kunikida wakes up to him screaming and crying after jolting awake from his sleep, and has to comfort him through literal Hell every time he has to relive your deaths in night terrors.  But hey, it sparks the two bed troupe because Dazai cries into his shoulder and clings onto his bicep so tightly Kunikida can’t leave him, so he lays down and sleeps in his bed, holding him while Dazai continues to weep into his chest until he falls asleep — still sniffling and crying even in his sleep.  Kunikida doesn’t develop feelings quite yet at this point, but it strengthens their bond.

UNTIL,

Years of sleeping in the same bed every night (they just ditch the air mattress altogether), practically playing house, comforting him, taking care of him, loving him platonically, parenting his daughter, watching him grow into an admirably wonderful father, and getting jealous of first-date-lovers who are never good enough for him- OH, OH NO, ARE THOSE FEELINGS? SAY IT AIN'T SO,

And it takes a few years, and a whole bunch of heartbreaks for both of them (plus a little bit of accidental matchmaking from the 5 year old who tells everyone she has 2 Daddies, so everyone thinks they're a gay couple and it puts the idea in their head) for them to both realize that maybe Kunikida's ideals can be rewritten to include Dazai, and maybe this domestic little life has fit right into his little notebook all along. <3

THERE, I DID IT, I MADE IT WORSE

Cursed Soukoku x y/n fic idea

IDEA: Imagine a fic with Soukoku x afab y/n, and after giving birth to a baby that's half Chuuya, y/n and Chuuya both die tragically, leaving Dazai to raise a baby that's not biologically his, but made up of the two people he loved most in the world.

That's it.

I'm not writing it, but I did sure imagine it for a second.

[corrosivewednesdays]

Scaramouche general SFW + NSFW headcanons

Author’s note(s): these have been sitting in my drafts for a month so this is written before 3.2 Warning(s):nsfw and a bit of dark

SFW

At first, the relationship would start out cold

Your relationship was purely beneficial and somewhat transactional for each other’s sake

his constant rude behaviour can be difficult to get over and Scaramouche can be quite annoying to be with

so you better be ready for a lot of vulgar insults coming from him

but as time goes on,

it seems that you both started to actually fall in love with each other despite what you guys told to one and other

“This relationship is nothing but for my own benefit. Don’t think you are remotely close to me. I suggest you stay out of my way before things turn uglier,” He states with a cold face and with a snappy voice.

once he realizes that he has fallen for you,

he is in complete denial of his feelings towards you

how could he, ever fall for someone so foolish, so naïve, so easy to break?

you’ll realize that he tried to become more distant but ultimately failed after only wanting you more, craving your gaze, your touch, and love.

Vows to never be the first to confess because of his big ego and his superiority complex smh

except when he does after saving you from a life or death situation

when you tell him that the feeling is mutual,

he will bring you on small hang out sessions that are considered dates to him (since he cannot afford to go out because of his high ranking in the fatui) but these hang out sessions aren’t for long as he has work to do

Dates with him aren’t like the usual ‘fancy dinner date at an expensive restaurant’ or ‘carnival date’, etc…

he thinks that it isn’t necessary, since you are already having fun with him with a low risk of being caught, so, why the need to switch it to something that you might find stressful and have a higher risk rate of being caught? It just doesn’t make sense to him, plus, he enjoys the comfort of somewhere with just the two of you guys.

When he can, he would take you outside to rural places/where the population is low to go to the beach, night walks (if that’s what you want), etc…

every moment spent with you feels much different from when he spends his time by himself but will never bring it to himself to admit it to you

after lots of time has passed and you guys have gotten to know each other, he will ask you:

“Will you promise me that you’ll be with me forever and never leave me?”

Wether you accept it or not is your choice

-> you promise him that you will be with him forever and vow to never leave him,

he quickly embraces you tightly (actually showing vulnerability) and, at the corner of your eye, you can see, a slight tear falling down as he hugs you firmly

-> you tell him that you cannot promise him that

he questions why not.

you tell him that you are mortal and will eventually fade away and succumb to death and will have to leave him

this made him enraged and saddened at the same time.

he then parts ways with you (for now) and you could hear him murmur under his breath:

“I’m sorry.”

before he abruptly leaves you

let’s just assume that everything was sorted and you guys are on good terms and is now together

now that you are with him, there is no such thing as ‘breaking up’ or turning back

I feel like he’d almost never be home and will input restrictions for going outside

he’d still bring you to small hangout sessions

(but him as a harbinger means that he has lots of duties and doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with you)

he’d probably put restrictions like: “you can leave at (…) but you have to be back at (…).” And “Don’t speak of anything important and just do small talk in order to avoid drawing too much attention. You wouldn’t want to get yourself tortured and killed, would you now?”

after a long day of work, he would just like to cuddle and hold you but would fail absolutely miserably at expressing that desire

he is actually pretty observant considering his attitude.

if you ever get hurt or got hurt, he would notice that pretty quickly

And if someone deliberately hurt you, rest assured you won’t be seeing them ever again

NSFW

probably hates dirty talk

But definitely has a praise kink

he lives to hear your pretty moans that comes out of your mouth

the way your face is when giving him head, it turns him on.

I can see him liking slow and soft sex but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t times where he’s going to be absolutely railing you

He’s belittling you while fucking you roughly, your face down pushed onto the mattress

whenever he is jealous, he’ll fuck the daylight out of you

Scaramouche’s moans are high pitched, soft and kinda squeaky sometimes?? he’ll try and hide his moans though

most of the time he is the dominant one while you are the sub

he wants you to be the one that takes initiative since it makes him feel needed there

uh sorry if this ended abruptly, like I said, I just forgot about these and they’ve just been sitting in my drafts for the past month so this is pretty outdated (written before 3.2 update).

[yonkimint]

Without You [Yoongi x Reader, Hobi x Reader]

11. Meanwhile ✎

y/n presses her palm to her stomach, wondering if the flutters are from nerves or the baby. Realistically, she knows it’s too soon for even her to be able to feel the baby but she’d rather believe that than that Hobi — no, Jay — is the cause.

He sits across from her and rolls his iced coffee cup from palm to palm. She can’t stop staring at him or the roundness of his cheeks or the glow that seems to emanate off his skin. His eyes are bright and his lips curl in an easy smile. Sunshine. How had she forgotten how bright he is? How had she lived in darkness while he’d been gone?

“Hi,” she says for the fourth time, propping her elbow on the table and dropping her chin into her hands. She feels a little dizzy, either from nerves or pregnancy — again, she doesn’t know.

“Hi,” he repeats, laughing.

y/n blinks herself out of her stupor, “Sorry! We can’t just say one word back and forth all night! It’s so good to see you! How was New York?” Every word out of her mouth feels too loud, too overly excited.

“It was good,” he tells her and then amends, “It was work.”

y/n nods. The boys are always traveling for work and she knows the drill. Jay must be extra busy though. She knows he’s been hustling since he left Bangtan and the safety net of a management team. She also knows he’s been highly successful here in America. He sells out shows within minutes and his concerts are legendary. And he’s been doing it alone.

“Recording?” she asks. Jay shakes his head.

“Press. It’s exhausting,” he admits.

She takes a sip of her coffee, nodding, “I bet. You must be glad to be home!”

Jay only shrugs but then gestures to her, “What about you? How are you settling into LA life?”

y/n wonders if she should tell him everything. There’s a part of her that wants to but what kind of person puts all of that on a friend that she has basically abandoned for the last two years? Jimin had coached her to be gentle with Jay, to go easy on him, and telling him that his ex-best friend knocked her up and she’s planning on raising it as a single parent seems like a lot of drama to spring on a person in general, much less in this specific situation.

“Honestly, it’s not going quite how I imagined it would,” she hedges, leaving enough of an opening for him to coax it out of her but not overtly enough that he can’t gloss over it. He nods sympathetically.

“Clearly not if you reached out to me,” he says.

“I didn’t know you were here until Jimin told me or I would have done it sooner, sir!” she scolds him gently, her nose scrunched at his unvoiced accusation. He’s still hurting from losing the Bangtan family.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I believe you! But really, I never thought you’d leave Yoongi’s side. What made you move halfway around the world?”

y/n’s cheeks flood with color and she trains her gaze on her coffee cup. How much should she tell him? How much does he actually care to know? His hand slides across the table, his tapered fingers drumming the wood to get her attention.

“You can tell me, y/n,” he says, the words soothing and gentle on his tongue like he already has an idea of what has happened. y/n presses her lips together. Her eyes have started to smart with tears. This has to be the pregnancy. She is not a crier.

“It’s so stupid,” she whispers.

Jay’s fingers creep closer to her hand until his fingertips brush her bone white knuckles to loosen her death grip on her coffee mug. Tears spill over at the softness of his touch. It’s the smallest gesture but y/n realizes suddenly that no one has been this gentle with her without expectation in a long time.

“Yoongi is stupid,” Jay teases, prying her fingers off the mug, “Tell me what happened.”

“You don’t really think that, do you?” y/n asks, peering up at him through tear-soaked lashes. Jay presses his lips together. He’s not happy with Yoongi after all this time and it’s unfair of y/n to ask him to lie for her own comfort. She shakes her head, catching her mistake, “I mean, he is stupid. It’s just investing all that time in him makes me stupid too, doesn’t it?”

Jay shakes his head, “Of course not! Well, maybe a little. Tell me what happened and I’ll decide!”

y/n can’t help but laugh because if she tells the full story, he’ll know she’s a lot more than stupid, “Well, I didn’t move halfway around the world just to get away from a boy but it was pretty good incentive! I actually got a really great job offer with a media firm that operates in both Seoul and LA and they asked if I wanted the experience in the US and I would be stupid not to take advantage of an offer like that.”

Jay nods, “That’s true. Experience in the States is gold in Korea.”

y/n is glad that Jay understands the way that no one else back home seems to. Even Jimin and Irene, who have been the most supportive, still haven’t made it through a whole conversation without asking her why she didn’t just stay in Seoul.

“Exactly! But I guess no one else saw it that way… especially Yoongi who threw a huge tantrum about it and now I’m here and I thought it was going to be a fresh start finally but I guess life doesn’t want to give me that,” she sighs.

“Yoongi still won’t let it go?” Jay asks.

“No, he blocked me.”

“Oh.” A silence stretches between them while Jay tries to piece together the story from the bare bones she has given him. He shrugs, “Is that a good or bad thing?”

“It’s a thing,” y/n grumbles. She sees the question in Jay’s face and she knows she has to explain the whole story for any of this to make sense, “I’m personally fine with it. Like I miss him but it’s easier to move on knowing he’s not following me and it would have been fine except he left me with a… present that kind of changes the whole trajectory of my life.”

“That’s not cryptic,” Jay teases, “What did he give you? A ring?”

y/n laughs sardonically and lets the bomb drop, “No, a baby.”

Jay’s mouth drops open. For several long seconds of shocked silence, they just stare at each other. y/n winces after five seconds. She shouldn’t have told him. It was too much too soon. She’s the first to break eye contact but Jay is the first to break the silence.

“Dumpling baby,” he breathes.

y/n, whose thoughts have raced on to how she can politely excuse herself and how soon it would take an Uber to pick her up and take her back to her apartment so she can bury herself alive, blinks at him. It takes several more seconds for his words to register but when they do, she bursts out laughing.

“What?” she cries between belly aching giggles, “Did you just call it a dumpling baby?”

Jay is laughing now too, tears springing to his eyes at the image of a little baby with fat, dumpling cheeks that take up its whole face. He swipes at the excess liquid after he’s calmed himself, “Yoongi’s mom always tells him he looks like a steamed dumpling. I’m sorry, it’s the first thing I thought of that wasn’t ‘what the fuck?’!”

y/n breathes deeply through her nostrils until she’s calmed down too, pressing a calming hand to her belly where a microscopic baby who probably doesn’t even have cheeks yet is growing inside her. She didn’t realize how heavy she had been feeling until she was able to laugh. She smiles at Jay.

“Oh, I didn’t know how much I needed this. I feel like I’ve been in this horrible pit of despair since I found out about this,” she admits.

“I can see why,” Jay says, his eyebrows furrowed now that he’s sobered up from the dumpling baby image. He squeezes her fingers which are still tangled in his, “You’ve been dealing with this all alone, haven’t you?”

y/n sniffles, her throat suddenly tight again with Jay’s gentleness, and shakes her head, “I mean, Jimin knows and I told Irene a few days ago.”

“But?” 

Even though she’s uttered a complete sentence, he can sense that it’s not a complete thought and he nudges her to say the rest of what’s on her mind. He promised himself he was going to remain aloof at this meeting, keep her at arm’s length after everything that happened back in Korea, but Jay has to admit he’s always had a soft spot for y/n and even now — especially now — he wants to comfort her.

“But they think I should tell Yoongi and I don’t want him to have one more thing he can manipulate me about even if he deserves to know, you know?” y/n says all of this in one breath but Jay nods.

He has been on the receiving end of Yoongi’s manipulation more than once. Not that Yoongi has ever done it on purpose. He just knows how to work a situation to get what he wants and he always gets what he wants. Except for Jay. And now, maybe, except for y/n.

“I know,” he says.

“I’m sorry for putting all that on you,” y/n says suddenly, pulling her fingers free of his and taking a long drag of her cooled coffee, “I’m sure the last thing you wanted to do was get dragged back into Bangtan drama.”

“It sounds like you don’t want to be a part of it either,” he replies.

y/n lifts her gaze to him, caught by surprise by his astute assessment. “Am I heartless if I don’t tell Yoongi?”

Jay shrugs, “He’ll think you are. What’s your plan if it gets back to him? Are you sure Jimin and Irene won’t tell him?”

“They won’t. I threatened to not let them see the baby either if they did,” y/n says, her cheeks coloring in shame at her own manipulative moves to protect this baby’s existence from its father, “And before you say anything, I do feel bad about that.”

“I think you need to do what you think is necessary for you to be happy and for you and your baby to be safe,” Jay says, his answer political and neither endorsing or condemning her actions.

y/n nods, “Agreed.”

“So you’re keeping the baby?”

“Of course!”

“Didn’t you just start a new job? How are you going to handle a newborn by yourself on top of all that?” he asks.

y/n purses her lips, a little furrow forming between her brows, “I still have nine months before I need to worry about that.”

“Doctor's appointments? Baby clothes? Food? Furniture? Childcare?”

Is he trying to overwhelm her? y/n can’t tell but she knows he’s right. There is a lot she needs to work out if she’s really going to have this baby all on her own. She knows it would be easier to go back to Korea, to get help from her family, from Yoongi but she came to the States to carve out her own path and the baby, though unexpected, is a part of that.

“I’ll figure it out,” she hedges because she doesn’t have answers for any of this.

Jay rolls his eyes, “It’s okay to ask for help, y/n. Even if it’s just to have someone go to your appointments with you or keep you company while you build cribs and shit.”

y/n presses her lips together, “I couldn’t ask you for that, Jay! I don’t want you to think I met up with you today just for your help with the baby.”

“No, you met up so we could catch up and it’s obvious that you need a friend out here and you seem to not be understanding that I would also like to have a familiar face in my life again and since you’re going to spend every moment you’re not working preparing for that baby, I’m here for that too. If you want me to be, I mean.” he says.

“I—I want that very much actually.”

“Then when is your next doctor’s appointment? I’ll come along!” he offers.

Feeling a little bit of hope that this situation wouldn’t be totally helpless, y/n pulls out her phone, scrolling through her calendar for her initial appointment with her highly recommended OBGYN.

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[holylulusworld]

Aahp (1) - A cold December night

Title: Aahp (1) A cold December night

Prompt filled for @writersmonth​​​​​ – Day: 25 - word: lips

Square filled for @sebastianstanbingo​​: Free Space - Nick Fowler

Summary: You end up being a pawn.

Pairing: Mobster!Andy Barber x fem!Reader, Mobster!Nick Fowler x fem!Reader (for now)

Other pairings: Former Mobster!Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (implied)

Warnings: angst, language, unrequited love, sad reader, sadness, Ransom being an asshole (implied), soft Nick, grumpy Andy (but he’s got a weak spot for lost girls)

Words: 1,5 k

A/N: *Pookie = is a term of endearment for someone or something that you care about deeply in your life.

Angel and her protectors masterlist

Sebastian Stan Bingo masterlist

It’s a late and cold December night as you aimlessly walk the streets of Boston. The cold wind bites your skin while you struggle to remember the direction you came from.

“Hell, get a hold of yourself, Y/N,” you wipe your wet cheeks with your gloved hand, making things even worse as you feel the soft wool touch your skin. Now you remember the day he bought them for you, and your heart shatters all over again.

You’d like to take the gloves off and throw them away, but it’s too cold to do so. You’re already freezing, and it will be no use to lose a finger only as you can’t bear feeling the gloves on your hands.

“Miss, did you get lost,” you glance at the elder man flipping his cigarette onto the sidewalk. “It’s too damn cold to be outside tonight. You should go home.”

“Home,” nodding you look around the almost empty streets. “Can you tell me where I am? I need to get back to my hotel.”

“Oh! You’re not from around,” he gives you a sympathetic smile. “What’s the name of the hotel? I can tell you where to go if I know the name.”

“I’m usually not getting lost,” you laugh while rubbing your cold arms. “I just…you know…” wiping your eyes again you try to focus on anything but the burning pain in your chest. “I lost my phone too.”

“Love or business?” the man seems to see right through you. Maybe it’s like your granny used to say. You get wiser with every passing year. 

“A little bit of both…no,” shaking your head you try not to cry again. “Love. If it even was love.” You sniff now. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He made his decision and I need to get back to my hotel before I freeze to death.”

“I can call a cab for you, miss,” he gets his phone out. “Where do you want to go?”

“I-InterContinental Boston,” the wind is so cold that your teeth begin to chatter as you try not to cry again. “Is it far from here? I just ran and ended up here.” You point around the area. 

“Not that far. But it’s too far to walk. It’s dark and cold,” you watch the friendly elder man call a cab. All you can offer are twenty bucks and a broken smile as he hands you a cup of coffee. “It’s alright, miss. One day, the sun is shining for you again.”

“Probably not so soon. I just quit my job and left my hometown only to come here and realize he didn’t want me here. I got it all wrong,” you sip at the coffee. “Thank you for your help, Sir.”

The hot shower didn’t help getting the cold out of your bones. You’re still shaking while you hide under the covers. At least you booked the hotel for a few more nights.

He looked so shocked to see you. All this time he came to your town, pretending to offer more than passion and a few stolen moments while he was around.

How could you have been so blind and stupid all this time? Two years down the drain. More of your precious lifetime wasted on a man lying straight to your face.

It takes you three more days to leave Boston. You had hoped for him to come to you and explain the situation. That it wasn’t what it looked like, or that you got it all wrong.

Now you feel like an even bigger fool. 

All you can do is walk toward the exit of the hotel and pray you don’t run into the man breaking your heart for nothing. 

“Whoa watch your step, miss,” you mumble an apology as you almost ran a stranger over. He grips your arm to keep you from falling over his suitcase. “Hey, are you alright?” you glance up at the man, shaking your head as he gives you a soft smile. “Can I help you?”

“I don’t think anyone can help me,” blinking more tears away you try so hard not to cry in front of a stranger. That’s the last thing you need. Pity…

“Hey, you are shaking. Let me know if you need help,” he softly says as he guides you toward the couch at the lobby. He forgets about his suitcase and helps you sit down. “I know life can be hard. Just don’t give up.”

“You should care about your luggage, not some sad girl you just met,” now he huffs. “What? Are you a social worker or something?”

“Or something,” the man dips his head to look you up and down. “What’s a pretty girl like you crying about? Did something happen?”

“Nothing serious. Only a man breaking my heart for money,” you wipe your tired eyes. “He wanted me to move to Boston only for him to announce his engagement with some other girl. I think his grandfather wanted him to marry…and…I wasn’t good enough.”

“What a douchebag,” he sits next to you to pat your thigh. “What’s that bastard’s name?”

“You should go now, Sir. I’m fine, okay? Life goes on,” you shrug. “It’s not a big deal when a guy breaks a girl’s heart and ruins her life. I only quit my job and my apartment. I have to move out by the end of the month.”

“Shit,” the man huffs now. “What do you want to do now?”

“Sit and wait,” you laugh as he makes a face. “I got no clue. I don’t have a job any longer and can’t go back. My apartment is gone and there is no one I could turn to. My life just went to shit and the only person I can blame is myself.”

“I would blame the guy leading you on,” this time you look the man straight in the eyes. His features soften, and if not for the hopeless state you are in, you would call him breathtakingly handsome.

His blue eyes seem to shine whenever you look at him. “What are you doing, Nick? We don’t have time to flirt with cute girls,” another man steps toward the couch. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of man taking care of crying girls.  “We got to get going.”

“She needs help,” your savior gruffly replies. “Some bastard lead her on.” That picked the other man’s interest.

He’s as tall as Nick, and his hair is neatly gelled back, but there is a stray strand fighting his perfectionism. A thick beard frames his face. His features are hard, but his eyes soften as you choke out a sob.

“Angel, what happened?” he suddenly crouches down next to you to touch your knee. “Did anyone hurt you? Where did they hurt you? Did they touch you?”

“I told you; someone led her on, Andy,” Nick grumbles. “We need to help her.”

“I’m not some stray kitten,” you protest as the men start to talk about you as if you aren’t even there. “Hello! You can’t just decide to help me. I can fix my mess on my own.”

“Of course, you can,” Andy mumbles as he runs his hand over your thigh. “You just need a little help, don’t you?” his Boston accent is thick as he looks up at you with big blue eyes. “Right, angel. You want us to make everything better.”

“I-“ shit, it feels like he’s hypnotizing you with his gaze. While Andy coos soft words, Nick strokes your cheek, whispering sweet pet names in your ear. “Wait, I’m not going to go anywhere with two strangers.”

“Angel, you know us. That’s Nick, and I’m Andy,” you feel like a scolded child as Andy gets back up to straighten his back. He looks around the lobby, nodding at someone while you try to not freak out. “Nick, you will stay with our angel. I’ll make a few calls.”

“He can be a bit bossy, but you’ll get used to it,” Nick whispers in your ear, lips brushing your ear shell. “How about we get your luggage, and you tell me about your apartment.”

“I don’t even know you. What is going on here?” Andy sighs deeply as you start to get louder again.

“Angel, you need to calm down. This is-“

“You see, we need you to come with us. It seems you are of interest to Ransom Drysdale, grandson of Harlan Thrombey, one of the most dangerous men in whole Massachusetts,” Nick hastily cuts Andy off. “You need to trust me now. Okay.”

“Why would I?” fear creeps into your thoughts as two more men walk toward you. “What? How can they look like you? How-oh my…this is all too much…”

“Great,” Andy grunts at the other men. “You couldn’t make it faster? We had to do all the work.”

“She passed out,” Nick carefully picks you up in bridal style. “I guess this way it’s easier to take her, huh?” He grins down at your unconscious form. “How did Drysdale manage to get this cute *Pookie in his clutches?”

“Oh, we are already on pet name base?” Andy cocks his head to look at you in Nick’s arms. “Fine. Go and bring her to the car. We don’t want anyone to watch us kidnap Ransom Drysdale’s fiancé…”

>> Part 2

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