mental health hanging by a thread and is being held by the blurry picture of jazz in the transformers one trailer.

Finally, Finally

Buck x Eddie.

My take on Abby coming back.

Part /3.

Part One. / Part Two.

Word count; 2040

Also on Ao3

Part Three: Eddie

“In case something happens…”

Those were the exact words Captain Nash had used nearly a year and a half ago when Eddie first joined the 118.

Exchanging keys was a small, simple way to say “I got your back” in case something happened on a call. It was no secret that they had a dangerous job and there was no use tiptoeing around the fact.

In case something happened.

In case you don’t make it out alive.

In case someone has to clean out your place and notify your next of kin.

It was morbid, in a way, but it was also a comfort.

On the ring that Eddie uses, there’s a little orange keychain that reads “Best Dad Ever” and a key to his truck, his house, his abuela’s house, and one dedicated to every one of the members of the 118.

They each had one for his house, too.

If pressed, Eddie would admit that he wasn’t sure what key fit what door. He thinks Hen’s might have been the silver key with the ridged top, and Chimney’s was probably the one that was marked with a messy H in Sharpie.

The only key he knew with absolute certainty was the gold key that showed more wear with each passing day. That one was Buck’s. It hung right between his own house key and the keychain Christopher had picked out for him two Christmases ago.

Then again, Buck gets enough use out of his copy of Eddie’s key to make it a fair trade.

When Abby had manifested like a mirage outside of Bucks’ door, Eddie had recognized her immediately. Not necessarily from look, as he’d only seen a photo of her one or two times, but from some weird sixth sense. Maybe it was her fading red hair or the way she held herself-- he had heard stories of her, fairy tale-like musings, from Buck and Carla alike. 

Until he stood face to face with her-- her just outside Buck’s apartment, Eddie inside-- he had sort of thought of her as a figment of imagination. Not that she wasn’t real, exactly, but more like the real her was lost somewhere amidst the memories. She had become a story, not a person.

And then she smiled quietly. “I’m looking for Buck.”

Eddie could see in the softness of her eyes and imagined the way Buck must have felt once upon a time; loving her, losing her.

Eddie hated her profusely.

He led her into the kitchen and left them alone to talk-- or not talk-- as they saw fit. It was none of his business, after all.

“Dad,” Christopher’s voice pulls him out of his own head. They’re eating leftover lasagna, just the two of them, in the living room. The couch is colder than it usually feels and he chalks it up to the coming winter. LA is warm, but it’s a change from Texas he’s still adapting to. Chris prods at his plate, mostly untouched. “Why did Buck want us to leave?”

“Oh, Bud, no.” Eddie feels guilty suddenly. “Buck didn’t want us to leave. The woman that showed up, she was a friend of his that he hadn’t seen in awhile. I just thought they needed some time alone.”

“Why?”

Eddie isn’t sure he can explain it to himself, let alone his son. “Well, they haven’t seen each other in a long time. They need to catch up.”

“But why did we have to leave?”

Eddie frowns.

Buck didn’t tell them to leave. He actively wanted them to stay.

It was Eddie that freaked out and fled.

Because the idea of listening to Buck catch up with his ex-girlfriend sounded like hell on earth.

Because he didn’t want to see Buck inevitably fall back in love with her.

Because of things he wasn’t quite ready to face in himself.

Eddie decides to sidestep the question. “We’ll see him tomorrow, I promise”

Christopher takes the non-answer as it is, and says, “Okay.”

Eddie forces himself to take another bite of food, though it tastes stale on his tongue and settles dry in his stomach.

Minutes tick by as both Christopher and Eddie stop pretending to eat and fall back on the couch together. They watch Big Hero 6 and laugh obligingly, but it feels forced.

It feels wrong.

This is how it’s been done for years, Eddie reminds himself. Just him and Christopher. This is normal. Still, the coldness of the couch seeps into his bones.

He hears the door close a second before he hears Buck’s voice. “Diazes!” he calls. “Where are you?”

“Buck!”

Chris struggles to sit up and manages to launch himself off the couch, making a beeline for the sound of the newcomers voice. Eddie follows suit and meets Buck in the dining room, where  he’s setting down a pizza box and scooping Christopher up into his arms.

“I hope I’m not too late,” Buck says, peering into the living room where two plates of cold lasagna sit, barely touched. “I promised you pizza, and I never break my promises.” He looks over at Eddie, a bit of uncertainty coloring his words. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Christopher confirms, lifting the lid on the pizza box. He grabs a slice and disappears back in front of the TV.

“I would have called,” Buck says, leaning closer and lowering his voice, “But I was coming over whether you said yes or not.”

Eddie snorts. He retrieves a piece for himself, but leans against the table instead of joining his son. “You didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to.”

“I’m just saying,” Eddie stresses, trying to figure out for himself what exactly he is saying. “That I would have understood. You and Abby needed to catch up. I get it.”

“And we did,” Buck says, a shrug pulling at his shoulders while a smile tugs at his lips. “It was very cathartic.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie doesn’t want details. He does not want any details. He understands, as Buck’s best friend, that he should lend an ear. He should offer his congratulations. He chews quietly on his pizza and steels himself.

“She’s getting married.”

Oh.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Buck.”

Buck laughs and his entire face lights up. It’s a smile that’s always been contagious. “Why? I’m really happy for her.”

“You are?”

Buck nods. He leans against the table next to Eddie, their hands brushing together between them. Eddie does his best to ignore it.

“When she first said it, I was waiting for… I don’t know,” Buck shrugs with his entire torso, a gesture that jostles their shoulders together. Eddie curses silently. “I guess I was waiting on the pain. I expected it to hurt. But it didn’t. If she had told me that a year and a half ago, I would have been heartbroken.”

Buck sighs and intentionally presses his arm against Eddie’s, more than just an accidental brush of limbs. It remains there, skin to skin.

It’s almost as if he knows the sensation that the simple touch sends through Eddie, but he couldn’t possibly know. He couldn’t know the shiver that rolls up his spine, the goosebumps that arise on his forearm, the way his heart beats just a little bit faster.

Not unless Buck feels it, too.

He doesn’t move away.

“When Abby left,” Buck says, his voice quiet, meant for just the two of them to hear. Chris remains oblivious in the other room, mere yards away. Doesn’t he hear the static rushing in Eddie’s ears? Can he not hear the beating of Eddie’s heart pounding against his ribs?

“When I really accepted that she wasn’t planning on coming back,” Buck’s hands outstretch in front of him, grappling for something physical to hold onto. Some infinite emotion or thought that he’s trying his best to convey with spread fingers. Eddie wants to feel it, whatever it is that Buck is reaching for. “It was like there was this hole she left. An Abby-shaped hole that no one night stands or casual sex could fill. I loved her.”

It takes a long time for Eddie to find his voice. He watches the side of Buck’s face, outlining the curve of his nose and the shadow of his lips. He isn’t even sure he wants an answer when he asks, “And now? Do you still love her?”

Buck looks up and meets his gaze, steady and sure, as he shakes his head. “No. I don’t. Not the same way, at least.”

Eddie can’t breathe. He needs to look away before he does something stupid, but he can’t move.

Buck’s arm brushes his again and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t see Buck smile.

“You feel it, too,” Buck says, and then Eddie feels the hand on his arm, solid, tantalizing, and definitely not just a brush of skin. There’s an intent in his hands and Eddie feels it in that moment, the thing Buck had been reaching for a moment ago; The feeling, the sentiment, the something more just beyond words. 

“I didn’t know how to move on,” Buck admits. Eddie can feel his breath, but resolutely refuses to open his eyes. He’s afraid of what will happen if he does. “And I didn’t realize until I saw her again that I already had.”

Finally, finally, Eddie opens his eyes. “Buck--” he starts, but then there’s a mouth on his and he can’t focus to breathe, let alone find words to say whatever it was he was going to say.

It’s a short kiss that seems to last minutes or hours, and when Buck finally pulls away, Eddie’s head is swimming.

That just happened.

He kissed me.

I’d very much like it if he did it again.

Buck is watching him with doe eyes, big and blue and waiting.

Waiting, he realizes, for Eddie to say something.

Ultimately, in the haze that still fills his head, he blurts out, “I fill your hole.”

A beat passes and then Buck is clutching his stomach laughing. “Yeah,” he says. “You fill my hole.”

Eddie feels his face burn and he shoves Buck, but can’t stop himself from laughing, too. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant the-- Stop laughing. I meant the Abby-shaped hole.”

Buck catches his arm and pulls him back in close. Their noses bump and the laughter dissipates. Eddie moves slowly, feeling like if he moves too quick he could startle Buck away. Buck would come to his senses, or Eddie would wake up in a cold bed, alone, realizing this has all been a dream. He’s wanted this for so long, much longer than he ever even admitted to himself. He cannot mess this up now.

But when he kisses Buck, slow and sure, he feels more certain than he ever has. He whispers into the kiss, “You fill my hole, too.”

The feeling of Buck laughing against his lips is something he never wants to forget.

“Dad?”

A hand knocks on his back and he jumps away from Buck, nearly toppling over Christopher in the process.

Chris.

He forgot about Christopher for a second.

He’d been careless, too wrapped up in his own head to even think about how Chris would take to seeing his dad and Buck kiss.

But Christopher is just staring up at him, plate in hand. “Can you move, please? You’re in front of the pizza.”

Eddie shifts to the side, tangling himself further in Buck’s arms. They watch quietly as Chris helps himself to another piece of pizza and wanders again back into the living room without another word.

They wait, tense and silent, for something, anything, to happen. It can’t be this easy, Eddie thinks. Nothing is ever this easy. Nothing with Buck is ever this easy.

And yet, it is. The way he’d slotted himself perfectly into their lives, becoming a centerpiece in not only Eddie's but Christopher's routine. It’s the easiest thing they’ve ever done.

“We should go,” Buck says. He grabs a plate and shoves a few slices of pizza on before leading Eddie into the living room. They sit together, eating and watching the movie. It’s Buck’s first time seeing it so they start it over and if Buck happens to cry, no one mentions a thing. Eddie just hands him a tissue and leans back into the couch, letting the warmness of it all wash over him.

This, he thinks, feels normal. In fact, he can’t imagine a more rational next step in their friendship, their relationship. It feels right.

As he catches Buck’s eyes over the top of Christopher’s head, they share a smile that says all of this and more.

This is home.

This is us, our family, ourselves.

This is love.

The End.

Destined to fall | scene v.

Characters: Taehyung & You

Setting: fallen angel au, reincarnation au, historical au

Genre: angst

Warnings: character death, lots of violence since it’s set during WWII

Summary: Your love story is a tragedy written with blood throughout the centuries.

Words: 5.4k

Chapter index

SCENE V. RULE THE UNDERWORLD Kobe, 1945

God is dead, Nietzsche said and at that time, it really looked like he was right.

Explosions, screams and chaos everywhere. The world was like burning lava, a boiling cauldron and humans, the fools were stars waiting to be burnt out. There was no evil and innocent anymore, even good people did bad things in order to survive. Everybody was a victim, merely a puppet in the game of leaders, those who fought for power. Because people never learnt from their mistakes. And Taehyung? The Devil himself? He used to be the puppet master before it all buried him under its weight. He didn’t need to do anything anymore. It was enough to whisper the right (wrong) dreams into the right (fallible) people’s ear and all of it all fell like domino. One after another, attack after attack. It would have been a lie to claim he wasn’t a bit sad about what humankind became but God deserved this betrayal. His own beloved children killing each other, how ironic.

Yes, that’s right: this endless war sacrificing too many human lives made even the Devil sad, it made him lose that last ounce of hope he had in humanity. He didn’t feel guilt, only sorrow, melancholy and nostalgia.

But most of all, he missed you, the sound of your laughter, the touch of your hands and all the wonders you gave to the world. He walked around in the streets between scattered ruins, watching the Sun from where it rose the earliest. You would have loved Japan, he thought and wished you were there smiling at him and making him forget about the ruthless war going on out there. On the other hand, he was happy he didn’t found you, not yet, because otherwise that would have meant you had to live during such cruel times… again. You had seen so much blood and survived too many decades of pain, you deserved better, a more peaceful world.

One you couldn't get with him by your side.

“Long time no see, boss,” came the snarky comment and Taehyung grit his teeth as he stepped on a piece of broken brick splattered all over the ground in the darkening port city of Kobe.

“Go away,” he spit out. He didn't need company, he had no patience for one.

But certain people... demons didn't know when to shut up and how to behave like decent beings around their superior. This creature didn't seem to fear death and rotting in Hell in the most painful way.

“Oh are you still moping over that human girl?” he laughed disgust clear in his voice and spit on the ground that humans built and destroyed, the race he and other demons despised so much. Taehyung found it pathetic, that so many of his once so-called brothers didn't fall for a cause, for a reason but because of their own pride and because they thought they were better than humans, more worthy of attention than those rats. They didn't know anything but pain and destruction when it came to Earth beings.

The man in nothing but black, arms tattooed, smirk on his face walked right in front of him, moving in an accelerated motion, the aftermath of a fresh kill, blood still bright red on his hands. Taehyung just glared at him, unfazed and cold.

“How can you be our ruler? You are pathetic,” the demon made another attempt at riling him up even more, testing his boundaries, pushing where it hurt.

“Don’t you dare to speak to me like that, Azazel,” Taehyung hissed at him through his teeth. His hands curled into a fist, ready to fight, something he didn't have to do physically for so long because he had others to do it for him and because war and murder didn’t end in blood and death every single time. Killing a soul, living in a lie or in desperation was sometimes even worse.

But now his knuckles wanted to harshly kiss skin, tearing it apart, making it bleed. He wanted to hurt and he wanted to watch the change of insulting eyes turning into a regretful one when the demon realised what kind of mess he made.

But Azazel went along with it, he greeted his rage, he bathed in the anger of his gaze. That was what he wanted all along.

“Or what?” he asked, taking a reckless step forward, too close for the Devil’s liking. Something gold flashed through the demon’s eyes and his mouth curled into a wolfish smirk. “Will you cry on my shoulder?”

Taehyung scoffed wondering if he should make his hellhounds eat this dirt of a demon or simply rip him into pieces and put the parts on display to remind everybody what rebellion meant.

“Leave or I will make you,” he warned Azazel, for one last time because he was being nice for once, throwing chances like this.

“Oh I’m shaking so hard,” the man bit out sarcastically and his followers, that bunch of lower demons hiding in his shadow laughed together with him. Azazel spit at the first fallen in despise. “You are getting old. It’s time for somebody else to rule.”

“You mean yourself?” Taehyung laughed as he eyed him up and down. Stupid bloodthirsty demon, he had no idea what it meant to rule. “And over what will you rule once you kill everybody?”

Fear, pain, greed, they all moved humanity ahead towards bigger goals, so maybe Devil wasn’t good but he wasn’t all that bad either. It’s a paradox, isn’t it? Because if he wasn’t evil then what right did he have to own the Underworld? He built this kingdom and it will die with him if he had to. He would bring everybody down with himself.

Azazel opened his stupid mouth to answer but before he could utter a word, the ground split under them, shaking as the horrid noise filled the air, making the buildings shake and the glass shatter. Taehyung knew it was a bomb before he heard the collision far enough to leave him safe and sound yet close enough to leave destruction in his surroundings, like that trembling building towering over him.

“Rot in Hell,” the demon spit out and he laughed.

“We are already there,” the elder smirked. From his point of view even the prettiest place was like Hell without you and he would have watched the world burn happily if it wasn't for you.

Azazel snapped at that and lunged at him with his full weight throwing the first fallen under the falling bricks and an office building threatening to collapse. Taehyung saw him run away and cursed under his breath as anger bubbled inside of him. How dared he touch him with his filthy hands? How dared he challenge him and then leave like a coward? How-

He heard it first. He heard that sound resembling earthquakes but didn’t pay much attention to it, too focused on that damn demon escaping. Then came the pain, which wasn’t intense at first, the ripping feeling only came in waves. An enormous weight put him down and it was dumb because he had survived worse without a scratch but now? It felt like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. In the back of his mind he recognized the redness on his palm as his own blood but he still tried to get up…

However, his attempts came to be in vain. Then blissful darkness masked the world and everything became numb.

 He dreamt of you.

It was too good to be true, he thought, blinking and seeing you through his lashes because his eyelids were too heavy to keep his eyes open for much longer. Yet, he stared quietly, wondering when and why he got the privilege to dream and especially to dream of you. Or was this the afterlife? Did he really die? Was it heaven after all he did?

Because there was no way that you were there smiling at him so sweetly. Or maybe he was hallucinating because he just woke up with a headache, blank mind and bruises all over. Yeah, it must have been it.

“What happened?” he croaked out disorientated and tried his best to sit up in what looked like a hospital bed. The mattress was a bit uncomfortable under his weight and the sheets smelled like antiseptic. Its terribly distinct human smell disgusted him.

As he looked around in a room, he assumed was a war hospital with all the wounded patients and nurses running around. It was all too plain, a sight to forget but then his gaze fixated on you and his breath hitched. You were real in your entire solid and shy demeanour. Not only an illusion, not a mirage. You found him.

You wore a light blue uniform and held your hair up in a messy bun. Despite your mouth curving into a soft smile, you pushed him back onto his pillow with quite a strength when he leaned forward abruptly, risking his wounds to open up and bleed through the bandage.

“Rest,” you told him firmly, not leaving any other options for him to take and he watched you in awe. You just touched. He felt your fingers brushing his shoulder and then your palm against his forehead to check if he had fever. Yet, you acted like a stranger.

You poured water into the glass on his night table, took out a few pills and motioned for him to swallow. He did as you asked because even if he was capable of healing without medicines, he was your patient now… Again after so many years.

Your almond eyes reminded him of Silla. Just like your light touches, fingers careful on his wounds, they all brought back memories of you treating his torn wings. The first of firsts was always a bittersweet memory for him but you didn’t seem bitter at all, mostly just worried as your shining gaze met his.

“There was bombing on the streets,” you finally provided an answer as an explanation but as it all came back to him bits by bits, he knew it wasn’t merely the bombing. It was Azazel who pushed him under the collapsing building. That fucker! He will make sure the demon will pay for this and wish he would have never been born.

“You were buried under sixteen flights of bricks. Nobody knows how you survived,” you added with a smile of somebody who knew secrets. Because you did, you had so many of them. You knew exactly what he was and how he could survive. Yet, you didn't say anything. You just brushed the reckless locks of your hair behind your ears and intertwined your fingers in your lap.

You reminded Taehyung of your first life together so much, he had trouble breathing. It was you, the kind, the selfless, the one to heal him all over again with beautiful eyes in a country of war. He feared so much that the past would repeat itself but you had rather feared for him than yourself.

“Take care of yourself. What would I do if you weren’t there in my next life?” you whispered knuckles brushing against his cheek and looked at him like you loved him. Because you did, oh how much you did! Because in this life you remembered him before he did and you prayed, begged even so you could be together again, just once you asked.

Without me… you would be happy, he thought but he was way too selfish to voice that out.

“I love you,” he said instead, searching for your gaze, the forgiving and your sweet smile was salvation itself.

“I love you too,” you bent down to kiss him and soothe his worries away. He wished it was that easy forgetting about the weight of Earth on his shoulders. Simply being with you was worth it anyway.

 A poet once said that demons run when a good man goes to war. Apparently, he was wrong and knew nothing because demons, they were the front line of any war and Taehyung led them. Not personally of course, but he adapted to the idea of Evil. He once hated the hatred, the torture, the brutality and the weakness it represented, however he was wiser now. He knew that the world needed balance, it needed both good and bad… it needed him.

Darkness existed before him and will exist after he will be far gone. The thing he owned but no other fallen had was the knowledge, that he learned how to control and form it like he wanted. Each time Death claimed you he used it as revenge, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. He didn’t care who he hurt as long as he made sure God was watching. It was an eye for eye deal and the Devil always kept his word.

He wasn't proud of what he did but he couldn't find it in himself to regret anything. All his actions, they led him to you. One way or another, he always came back to you. Even bruised and hurt, he held your hand.

“How many?” you asked sitting next to him, watching the city in flames through the broken window. In a world of chaos, there was no place like safe haven.

The hospital was run down the previous week. After that Taehyung encouraged you to leave the country with him. To get on the last ships going south, heading to a hopefully peaceful place but you refused to leave your patients behind. You were too kind, too good for this world. Since then you had been in hiding, crashing in abandoned buildings in the constant fear of bombs falling down.

So your sudden question caught Taehyung off guard. It was so out of blue yet he knew you had your reasons.

“Millions,” he croaked out without shame or hesitation.

The number just increased and increased since he had a big influence in the First World War. What did you wait for? What did you want him to say? To lie? He was the Devil after all. He was feared for a reason.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, curious.

You had never complained about his being before, never asked him to change. Was it because you blamed yourself for making him this way or did you really accept him unconditionally?

“No,” you shook your head as an answer, black halo of hair falling into your face, shadowing the glint in your almond eyes. “You would never hurt me.”

That much was undeniably true. He could never lay a harmful finger on you. Not even if you asked. Still, it didn't make him less of a monster.

“But I have killed a lot. I am no better than the soldiers you despise murdering thousands here,” he protested running a hand through his now faded ash blonde hair. Your gaze followed the motion and you reached out to take his bony fingers and intertwine them with yours.

“What's the point of wars? Power? These soldiers don't even have a choice, they are forced to join the army and to kill innocent people, to destroy. People say it's the Devil's doing but no, it's all us, fallible, selfish humans doing monstrous things, playing gods,” you muttered, head resting on Taehyung's shoulder, enjoying the warmth while you could. “You, on the other hand, you are doing this out of love. A twisted kind, yes, but you are just as stuck in a treadwheel as I am. You lost your wings because of me, because you saved me! How is that fair? You were made to rule over the realm of chaos God throw away and didn't want to deal with. You made home in it and learned how to survive. I'm not saying you had no choice, that you are innocent and I would not absolve you of your sins but you had your reasons.”

Your whispers were elixirs for his hurting wounds and filled his aching heart with even more love. For such a pretty young face, you sounded so wise and you were, you have seen so much loss and so many battles in all your life. You both were old souls in young bodies.

You lifted your head turning towards him, nose bumping into his on the way and from this close, you could see the adorable moles and light freckles on his flawless, handsome face.

“To them, you might be a monster but I know you have a gentle soul and that's what I fall in love with each time,” you exhaled your confession right into his mouth, his breath fanning over your chapped lips and you could have been swallowed up by his black hole-like orbs.

“Have you ever regretted it?” he asked, scared and desperate. However, he had no reason to be afraid. If it was up to you, he would have never lost you.

“No,” you replied right away. If it's for him, you would have never regretted anything. “And you?”

His head signalled no fervently, pressing his forehead to yours, squeezing your hand gently.

“You're the gravity and I fell for you. I wouldn't change a thing,” he whispered and leaned forward to prove his feelings with a chaste press of lips, chasing after your sweet kiss in such dark and bitter times.

 The Eastern bloc started to fall apart one by one, defeated by the enemy with more developed technology. Rumours among civils whispered about nuclear weapons and total annihilation but Japan, the country that had never lost a war before refused to give up. What a way to go! Sentenced to death by their own pride.

“We should have fled when you told me to. Sorry,” you apologized for your stubbornness after days spent in an underground bunker waiting for it to be over. No war lasts forever, that much you both knew.

“It’s okay. We are together,” Taehyung smiled at you, rubbing your dirty cheeks with his thumb and pressed a quick kiss onto your temple oh so lovingly. “I’ll go out for food.”

“I’ll go with you,” you got up from the crappy mattress immediately. You didn’t want to stay behind without him, not knowing what happens to him. Of course, you knew it was almost impossible to kill him but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Y/N...” he said softly, rejection clear in his voice as he looked at you with those melancholic, sad eyes but you didn’t let him finish.

“No. We’ve talked about this, remember? You can’t control my decisions, they are my own to make,” you reminded him and sighed exasperatedly when you looked around in the tiny bunker in which the two of you made home recently. No sunlight, no wind in your hair, barely enough water to drink. You remembered fear, poverty and torture from your earlier lives but this had been the worst. Not knowing whether it was day or night, how much time passed. If it wasn’t for Taehyung you might have given up already. “I feel like going crazy if I stay inside for any longer.”

“Okay,” he grunted and you could tell how much willpower it took him to accept your will.

“If anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault,” you promised and sealed it with a kiss. Taehyung practically melted into you, cupping your face and reciprocating the kiss deeply. In these moments, when you closed your eyes and with his arms around you, you could almost forget about the world. You pressed even closer, hands running up on his smooth back under the thick layers of clothing. You only pulled back when Taehyung let out a hiss and stepped back.

“What?” you furrowed your brows but the fallen avoided your eyes.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go,” he grabbed your hand lightly leading you to the super safe steel door of your little shelter. You didn’t question further since you thought you would still have time for that when you arrive back after the food hunt. Without a word, you nuzzled close to him and with masks covering half your face, you rose to the surface.

Kobe was in ruins, it was even more destroyed than in your memory. Barely any building left untouched, the streets were full of litter and dead, the road was painted with dried blood and you felt nausea bubbling up from your upset stomach despite not eating properly in the last days. Or was it weeks, who knows?

It took quite a walk to find an old convenience store that wasn’t emptied to stretch and only the sounds of faint rattle of firearms stopped you from stuff your mouth with all the expired food. You could wait until you got home, you reasoned and put everything in your bag.

“You done?” Taehyung helped you up. You nodded almost as eager to go back to your place as you were to get out. But just as you were about to cross the threshold, a cold voice sent chills down your spine.

“Hey Lucifer, I told you we would meet again.”

“And I told you I would kill you when that happens,” Taehyung retorted in an alarmed voice, hiding you behind his back as he was looking left and right, desperately searching for the owner of the voice.

“Charming,” Azazel chuckled as if it was all a big joke for him. Then his voice dropped low and full of intent. “So is she her? The girl who made Satan weak and fall onto his knees?”

“Leave her alone!” your angel snapped and you curled your hands into his coat, with your heart in your throat.

But nothing could prevent you from falling over and screaming in agony as a dirty set of sharp teeth sank into the flesh of your shin and dragged you backwards, to the legs of a man dressed in all black, eyes red and evil.

“Y/N!” Taehyung reached towards you as soon as he heard the sounds just to face a hellhound holding you as its captive. Blood was flooding from your wound as tears rolled down your face.

“Ah-ah… remember Pudding? The guard of your precious Underworld’s gate?” Azazel patted the dog-like creature’s head. “While you were too busy protecting your girl, me and ma boys took over. Now he listens to me well. Good dog. If I wanted, he would tear your precious princess into bloody pieces.”

“Let her go,” Taehyung ordered when the demon dared to touch you, brush your hair out of the way and point a knife right to your throat.

“Maybe I will... If you beg for it,” the man clicked his tongue impatiently and yanked at your hair until the metal blade drew your blood. You hissed as the warm liquid wept down your neck. ”Come on, do it! Or you think I’m just joking, that these are empty threats? I will cut her pretty throat if you...”

“Okay, wait. I will do it. Just please… please don’t hurt her,” and the fallen, the proud one held up his hands in defeat. Your tears were no longer out of pain but from sadness.

With a satisfied smile, Azazel waved off his wicked pet.

“Pudding, go home,” he ordered and the hellhound disappeared into thin air, releasing your hurting leg, burning deep in the wound. Yet, the demon’s grip on you didn’t get loose, the knife was still there threatening to cut you open. He sounded even more arrogant than ever. “Go on. Kneel and hand me the keys of Hell.”

Your eyes widened as you watched the horror in Taehyung’s eyes at the mention of the keys. Your lips were trembling as you tried to shake your head as careful as you could to tell him not to do it. You knew if Taehyung gave up on the last thing the demon wanted from him after his dignity, he would kill both of you anyway. But how could he not try to save you? He loved you more than his own kingdom.

“On three, we will exchange,” he opened up his palms where a golden key ring appeared out of nowhere. Azazel nodded as he hungrily eyed the item. “One, two...”

“Three!” the demons cut him to it as he shoved you forward and stole the keys from Taehyung’s hand who was busy catching you. The deadweight was the first he realized and he only saw the deep cut wound later on your throat, artery damaged. His expression resembled pure shock and eternal grief when he looked up.

Azazel just laughed, swinging the dagger in his right like it was a plaything. Crimson drops of your blood rained down as the keys clinked in his other hand.

“Oops my hand must have slipped,” he mocked.

“No,” Taehyung roared rocking your lifeless body back and forth, staring at your mouth that hung open, the blood still smearing from the deadly wound and your eyes staring up to the sky, empty and helpless. “NOOO!”

You said it wouldn’t have been his fault but it was. He wasn’t fast enough, this time he was right there but still couldn’t save you. He was the one who angered Azazel, not you. Yet the filthy demon killed you to get back at him. You are his weakest spot and everybody who wants to hurt him, hurts you.

It was Silla all over again.

“You are a dead man, Azazel,” Taehyung growled in an inhuman voice, standing up slowly, crying black tears.

“You can’t kill me. You just proved how weak you are,” the demon scoffed playing with the keys as if he ruled over this place but the first fallen knew better.

“You haven’t seen me at my worst,” he said and with the power he had in himself, the anger, the grief, the madness, he curled his hands into fists imagining Azazel’s insides breaking and rotting in his grip. He was panting hard as he tried his best to keep his focus on the body’s most vulnerable points, the part that could hurt the most.

The demon standing in front of him choked on air, dropped down onto his knees as blood flooded out of his mouth, nostrils, ears and even his eyes. The sight of horror in his eyes satisfied the sadistic side of Taehyung as he grabbed him by the neck and forced the dagger out of his hand.

“I warned you,” he gritted through his teeth as his goodbye and dabbed the knife into Azazel’s weak body dozens of time until he lost counting, until his anger died down.

Numbly, he walked back to crouch down next to you hugging you close to him and swaying there while his body shook with loud cries.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. None of it.

 He buried you in a field of roses, a place you would have loved and prayed for your soul, for you to come back to him in your next life, so he can say sorry and make you happier. When he broke into a rundown hotel to wash down the blood, yours and the demon’s too, he didn’t care about getting caught anymore. With Hell’s keys close to his still heart, he was ready to kill anybody who bothered him. However, when he heard footsteps, they didn’t belong to humans.

“You killed him,” Seokjin stated astonished like he didn’t believe his eyes, staring at the blood on Taehyung’s hands.

“Yeah and I would do it again,” the fallen shrugged cleaning his hands under the flowing water of the tap and looked up at his sudden visitor through the dirty motel mirror. “It’s not a big deal. I have killed our kind and did worse before.”

But it was, that’s why Seokjin came, because the horror on his face implied that things were changing. And Taehyung had a hunch about it for a while, he felt the change in his own body.

“But it’s different now. You… when you kill them or make them kill each other, they go to the Purgatory if not straight to Hell. However Azazel… you deleted him from history. You killed his immortal soul. That’s something only Father can do.”

“Well. In that case, I did him a favour by getting rid of that worm.”

“You really don’t take it seriously enough,” the angel sighed.

“What do you want me to say? That I shouldn’t have done that?” Taehyung snorted bitterly because it had been long since he cared about should have and must have options.

“You know how fallen ones become demons? You know what happens to their souls? Every time they kill an innocent human, they lose a part of it until there’s nothing left. Azazel was long gone when I killed him,” he reasoned and Jin hummed acknowledging the possibility of this fact.

“And what about your soul then?”

“I… I think it’s connected to hers,” he mumbled a bit uncertain even though every evidence proved it. Despite all the monstrous things he did he still had humanity in him, the ability to feel sorry and love. People often blamed Devil for all tragedies but they tend to forget he wasn’t the driving force of evilness. He wasn't a fallen hero of light, he threw that name away from him. He was a soldier, a general in each war dark and light fought, he was always on the opposite side of God’s army of angels and believers. Seokjin should have considered him an enemy, a threat, he should have killed him on spot whenever they met because he was a menace that didn’t deserve all these chances he got. But he didn’t, he had no order to do so which meant that all his efforts, all the murders were for nothing because the Almighty still had plans for him.

“So what happens to you when you kill?” the archangel asked him but didn’t even question the bond between his and your soul. Maybe you were just ill-fated, star crossed lovers always finding each other at the wrong time in the wrong place. Maybe you never stood a chance because your right time hadn’t come yet.

Taehyung didn’t answer, not in words at least, just turned around pulling the shirt over his head to reveal his scarred back.

“You are growing wings again,” Seokjin whispered in shock and awe but not in disgust, gaping at the fallen’s back and the black bones sticking out of the flawless skin. They were as ugly as his crimes, dark like the sins he committed and painful like he deserved to suffer according to the books of justice.

“Yeah and they hurt like hell, as if thorns were spouting out of my back, tearing the skin,” Taehyung grimaced flapping the wings out of experiment and one of the black feathers fell to the ground as a proof of the dying texture. “I know why I get this but Y/N... She can’t die but cannot live either. It’s ruthless. If it was me I wouldn’t care but…”

“That’s why it’s called a punishment,” Seokjin nods understanding, almost sympathetic which is funny, isn’t it? Feeling sorry for the Devil is a rare occurrence.

“But why does he have to punish her too? Why not just me?”

If God really was fair, then how he would have explained this? Most of your lives you were a pure soul and an obedient daughter. Your only sin was loving him unconditionally.

Seokjin shook his head with a bitter smile, blonde mop of hair falling onto his forehead.

“Remember? She took you away. One of his favourites. One of those he trusted the most,” he said and Taehyung scoffed loudly.

“Is he jealous?”

Seokjin’s answer came as a lecture of an elder, simple and forgiving for the foolishness of youth.

“No. He just doesn’t like to be wrong.”

But oh how wrong he was if he thought Taehyung would let him get away with playing him like this. He was his best pupil and now it was time for the student to outdo the master. But for now, it was time, to wipe this place off Earth, he thought looking out of the window staring at the remains of Kobe, this hell of town.

And just as cherry blossoms bloomed, incendiary bombs painted the dark sky bright orange like falling stars and millions of fireflies were born from the flames around them as the city burned.

Next chapter

January, 6th, 2021

Dear Diary,

I’ve taken an edible so I can’t remember what happened first thing this morning. But my sweet senior girl looks worse than ever, her eyes are sunk in, she can’t stand for long, her meows get the attention of my other cat even though they never had in the past...I think she’s crying for help. My mom comes to me to tell me what I already know, we need to put her down. I agree, it breaks my heart. She calls the vet to get an exact quote on how much it’ll cost we were told around $200 the other night by the vet but now we’re greeted with a new number $446. My stomach falls, that’s just too high. We decline and we both just try not to cry. We call around all the quotes are $350 and up, it would leave us with no money for my other cat in case she also needs to be put down. What a nightmare. We call the Humane Society where we adopted her and just hope maybe they’ll have an answer on where to go, it turns out they do what they call ‘End Of Life Services’ it’s only $50 and we could get her ashes and a paw print for $150, it’s a life saver.  How Ironic. I still hate Alanis Morissette. But they offer something else they hear our story out and offer instead for us to surrender her, they have a vet on board that can give her all the treatment she needs, they’ve got staff to keep her company, they’ve got everything. But everything that’s too good to be true has a catch. We don’t get to know what happens, we surrender her and sign a contract that says we won’t attempt to seek her out in the future and we understand that we can never adopt her again. We both cry as we agree.  We both feel like failures but we know it’s the best option for our sweet senior girl, she could still have a few more years of life in her if she receives the right treatment, she could turn back into that happy purr machine I love so much...but I’ll never know. I’ll never be allowed to know. A selfish part of me wants her to just end with me so I can know but I shove that ugly part deep, deep down. She deserves a life if she can get one...even if I’m not in it.  It happens tomorrow, we can’t chance waiting too much longer even till tomorrow seems risky.  Me and my mom talk in circles, repeating the same words: This is the right thing to do. We’re making the right choice. This is the best option.  It seems like we’re hoping if we say it enough we can beat down the ugly part of our minds that tell us we’re failures.  She heads to work early, she needs to distract herself, I wish I had a job to do that with.  Me and my friend talk, today seems to be filled with circles. We say the same things to each other: Sorry I can’t do anything to help. I love you. Your feelings are valid. I’m here no matter what. I love you.  We both cry, we’re both so emotionally high strung, our minds can’t form any more words but we’re there for each other and we know it. We’ll make it. We always do. We have too. My good friend messages me, she’s had enough of heart break from her best friend of over a decade, she’s done with feeling ignored and pushed aside, she sends me what she wants to send her and asks me what I think. It’s angry and I see a lot of my own anger I’ve got at my own best friend in her words. It’s solid, it’s honest, it’s angry but it’s fair so I tell her to remove the swear words so her friend can’t write her off as ‘overly emotional’ and send it, she thanks me and does.  My best friend messages me, she’s ready for the phone call that’ll explain everything that’s been happening. Part of me wants to say to her what my other friend has said to her best friend, I’m ready to be angry...but I just don’t want to be, I don’t want that to be us. I call her and it starts clunky, there’s tears as I explain what’s going on and I offer her a chance to say goodbye to my sweet senior cat. She helped take care of her when I worked nights, she’d come and feed her, play with her, it only seems fair though I mainly expect to hear a ‘no’ she says ‘I’m on my way’ and it feels like the best friend I once knew.  I decide to shower, I smell and this is a good a reason as any to actually do something about that. I get in and start it only to hear a tiny thunk behind me I look over and see my senior cat, she has been in the bathtub recently for reasons unknown, I wonder if she just wants to be close and doesn’t notice that the shower is running but she walks over to the pooling water. Maybe she’s that thirsty? But she doesn’t lick up any water. I don’t want her to get wet and then get cold and get even sicker so I gently coo at her as I lift her up and out of the tub and try to start my shower again. Another soft thunk and she’s right back where she was before so I just watch and she comes back over to the pooling water and to my shock sits down and goes to lay down but I just can’t let her get that wet. I pick her back up and put her back out of the tub, I move the shower curtains to the outside to try and discourage her but it’s to no avail. I have to take her out of the bathroom and close the door, my heart breaks as I listen to her cry outside of the bathroom she just doesn’t understand but none of my soap is pet friendly and I just don’t want her to get any more hurt than she already is. The second I open the door back up she’s back in the tub, I lay down a towel and let her be, if it makes her content and comfortable I don’t want to argue with it. My best friend arrives, sometimes I forget she has a key to my apartment. Again the hello is a little clunky, we’re both a little off. But it’s good to see her none the less. We talk about the obvious and a mirage of sorry’s leave her mouth. I tell her about my friend and how she feels about her best friend, I open up and instead of approaching it angrily I simply tell her that I feel like we’re been drifting apart like that and I desperately don’t ever want to feel that way, I don’t ever want to write her an angry letter saying my heart is broken because of her and I don’t want her to write me one either. For the first time in months we open up. Both of us have been bottling things up this past year, trying not to bother the other, trying to keep things light during a heavy year. We talk about how the past month has just beaten us down and sat on us, we’re unable to get up as life laughs like a school yard bully. She had a pregnancy scare, her cyst got so bad she couldn’t go to work, two of her mice suddenly died both unfortunately violently, her boyfriends nana and cousin died days apart from each other, her bank account was empty. In short depression had eaten us both alive but we didn’t want to tell one another because we both just wanted things to be ‘good’ so bad when we saw each other. This talk feels like us. This talk is open and no guards are up. I try to find a speckle of sunshine from the darkness that is my cat leaving, at least it brought this up, at least I don’t have to lose my best friend too. I don’t like saying that but I have to find a positive in all this negative and this is a positive.  Some things are going better for her, she finally got her vacation pay after 3 years, I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s been ripped off and it wouldn’t serve a purpose so I tell her I’m just glad she got it instead of scrutinizing the amount. She says it’s okay to ask for money if I need and I ask for a $100, she’s my best friend and money has never been weird between us, she knows I’d never ask for that much if I didn’t feel like I needed it. There’s no guilt she just agrees.  She brought some art supplies for us to play with, it’s water colour brush pens. I’ve never been good at water colours but I love watching her, I make sure to shower her in praise, art should always be praised. I give it a shot after she encourages me. It’s fun and for once this is exactly what I want, this is how water colouring should be. I draw a jellyfish, a bumble bee and a koi fish. I’m going to buy myself this and I let her know, I don’t want to lie to her about where her money might go. She’s happy I like it so much and is okay with seeing her money go somewhere that makes me happy.  The visit is good, surprisingly light hearted even with the important talks, nothing gets heated it’s all just soft sincere words of love. This is what I want for this year and I tell her that, she agrees. We’ll work together on being more open with one another again. She heads home and my chest feels tight, my asthma decides it time to act up even though everything went well. I’d rip out my lungs if I could, I hate my asthma.  The rest of the night is much like the last, my heart breaks watching my senior cat struggle and I have to remind myself I’m making the best choice for her tomorrow. It’s hard to find a way to bond with her when I want to the most right now, she’s distant and usually I’d give her treats to make her happy but right now she can’t eat not even chicken can get her body to try. I settle with pats, her purrs are no longer boisterous and loud but quiet and eventually she leaves to visit her new found love of the bathtub.  My mom gets home late, I know she’s having a hard time but I still try to talk to her to help her unwind she tells me she got so mad at work she threw things and then went on break, I feel horrible, I wish she didn’t feel like she had to bottle it up and I tell her that but it’s just the way she deals with death. It’s hard on her. There’s been so much death lately. Her longtime boyfriend died 3 years ago, our neighbors wife died a few months ago, her niece and my cousin hung herself less than three months ago, her friend had a miscarriage. It’s a lot.  I do the only thing I can and just tell her I love her and that I think her best is more than good enough, I tell her I’m thankful for her. I mention my best friend’s sister gave her edibles to give to me as a sorry for everything that’s happening. I always offer her some but she never has any but tonight she says okay, it’s a small dose only 25 but I bite off 90% of it and give her 10 since she’s not used to it, she’s in bed within minutes. I want to be in bed but I told myself I’d do this so here I am at 2 AM...less then 12 hours away from handing over my sweet senior girl...this sucks but it’s the right thing to do. I realize after talking with my best friend and mom that I think I’m suffering from auditory hallucinations, I’ve always had them a little bit just when I’m trying to sleep. I sometimes think I heard a band or footsteps but I never paid much attention I just thought it was weird brain activity but the past 4 months have been more intense and this past week has been almost constant. I think I hear my mom call my name, I hear footsteps, I hear my cats meowing, I hear the tinking of their metal bowls, I hear noises beside my bed it always shocks me awake only to find out that the noises were never there. I’m going to ask my therapist if she knows what this is called and if she can point me in the right direction to get medicine for it.  God, so much happens tomorrow...today now...I don’t know how I feel, I don’t know how I’ll react. I don’t feel much typing this but a small sinking feeling in my chest. Maybe I’ll take another edible.

Warframe personalities from how I see them, by my first glance at them.

Heads up, this is a long post. Enjoy~!

Ash: Aloof mofo with a stabbing habit. could rob you of all your money in texas hold ‘em. Too much damn side eye. Kills everyone is the room, then breaks for coffee like nothing happened. Ninja who steals the last slice of cake from the fridge.

Atlas: would kick your ass then be your best bro. is dead inside? somewhat likely but can’t tell anymore. makes shitty jokes. I get he’s a one punch man stone golem, but c’mon, the guy gives pretty good hugs.

Banshee: Resting bitch face, but is sound sensitive so she has a reason. Most likely up to god knows what hours listening to music enjoying synethesia sensations. Knows a thing or two about where to find the best obscure books. Caring protective friend.

Chroma: Moody guy who just wants some fucking peace and quiet. Hoards things like trophies from kills, bet this guy has so many hunting trophies? ffs, his ult is a dragon pelt, might as well be a dragon! Really good at pissing off people without even trying.

Ember: Sassy friend wants all the tea. Best booty to boot. You see that guy over there? He’s on fire. She fucking murdered him with sick comebacks. Don’t get me wrong though, she might like her bacon crispy but she’s a pretty loyal friend. Probably would come get your ass for a revive with intent to raze the fucking field with wildfire.

Equinox: Calm balanced friend??? Has two sides she shows to different people, everyone who talks to her might find something different about her. Likes keeping a lot of houseplants in her room in the dojo. Courteous and polite and gives the best backhanded compliments under a pleasant facade.

Excalibur: Average Joe. Good at a lot but not the best, really doesn't give his best. Very athletic. rushes through missions impatiently. Might play too many hack’n’slash games in his spare time.

Frost: Stoic, quiet, probably has some thought going on at all times. Reads a lot of mythology from before the orokin era. Procrastinates and stalls for his buddies while holding down the fort. solid person to talk to if you need someone to listen.

Hydroid: The guy has enough mentions about tentacle porn, it’s safe to say he’s hoarding a hentai stash somewhere. or people assume. just a guy who loves the water, could talk for days about fish and where to find all the best seafood restaurants. has had enough people mentioning pirates around him. has a good, hearty laugh.

Inaros: Tired, always fucking tired. Sleep? I’ll sleep when I’m dead. if you can kill me, that is. Mmm. nom. Corpus tastes metallic. Grineer tastes like really bad slimy chicken. I’m not sharing what infested taste like. Shields? What the heck is that? Appreciates old architecture and hoards ayatan statues.

Ivara: Sneaky sneaky~ I got an arrow for just about any job. Just because i am a cyclops doesn’t mean i don’t have depth perception, dumbass. Carefree happy lady, fun to talk to. Makes lots of banter with teammates on missions.

Limbo: Trolls might love this guy, why doesn't he have a fedora helmet yet? I’ve not seen enough Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure to know what those references mean. He’s a real gentleman, very inquisitive. He’s a scientist? Aw, cool. Prolly spacing out while carousing through the rift, thinking about his next project.

Loki: The Cheeseframe is what people call him. Knows where all the loot is, all the time. Giggling and pulling pranks 24/7. Can do shit effortlessly and stares at his team wondering why the fuck the had to trigger the damn alarm in a mission. Also, hammerhead shark. This guys likes playing card games too.

Mag: In a state of calm and panic at the same time. Doesn’t show much though. Magnetic personality? Could crush your heart in a minute. Has a good taste in interior design, rather good at art deco/ industrial. Has some walls to get through before befriending her, but melts like a marshmellow when ya do.

Mesa: 360 no scope!!! It’s high noon! okay, now that’s out of the way, let’s keep going. Keeps an orderly schedule, off doing solo missions all the time. Loves a good movie, could talk about her favorite film for hours. Deserts are dry? So is her humor. Would shoot you without even thinking.

Mirage: You thought Loki’s pranks were bad? At least her enemies get these night mare shows and not you. This chick loves horror films, special effects make up and disco. Pretty good at good at lighting up the room and your smile. She really just wants a good time, okay?

Nekros: Sick mofo who tells dead baby jokes. Has some interesting kinks. Rarely eats, if ever. Would look you dead in the eye and try to tell you bad puns seriously as possible. Has seen the dead walk again, thinks they’re best buddies. good guy to go to a graveyard with.

Nezha: Srsly good looking.. guy? girl? oh idc he can be genderfluid and i’d still think he’s attractive. Got serious hula skills. Never takes himself seriously and just loves going for long missions. Knows a thing or two about culture, rather classy guy but can be a bit childish. Never really grew up, but you don’t notice that behind the charm.

Nidus: This is the I-don’t-give-a damn guy. He wrecks everything he touches, spreads space aids, yet his personality is far from cancer. Very good with animals. A bit messy. Too many damn things talking in his head from the infested and ignores them like a champ. They bend to his will.

Nova: A Good Egg, if slightly cracked. Giggles at the mention of inane words. Everything explodes!!! ADHD in a frame. Good natured wholesome friend who loves everyone. Bad habit of breaking appliances and electronics. Geiger counters near her start playing Imagine Dragon’s Radioactive?

Nyx: Look at this frame. You took a good warframe and gave it anxiety, sheesh. Shy, kinda hard to deal with hearing everyone’s thoughts sometimes. ain’t got time for your drama. Loves talking about current events, but not much of a gossip out of respect for others. giant personal space bubble, do not touch!

Oberon: Royal pain in the ass, but a lovable doofus so you kinda just let it go. Very protective dad friend, complete with dad jokes. Probably would like to finish your sandwich if you’re not gonna eat it. Would open his home to you if you needed a couch to surf on.

Octavia: This girl loves all music, could help you find just the mix you were looking for. Got sick dance moves too. Might have been in band. Would happily binge watch any tv show with you and discuss everything about it. You don’t know what so charming about her, but you really like her so you always accept her invites. Had a bad habit of fidgeting.

Rhino: This guy could bench press a grineer ship in one hand and corpus ship in the other. you don’t move out of his way, he runs you over, simple as that. gym rat, for sure. somewhat impatient. watches way too many superhero blockbusters and devours the comics. Mows down the entire enemy wave just get your sorry bleeding ass back up and fighting again.

Saryn: Oh, good lotus, this chick has got good looks and a deadly touch. Cunning girl could outsmart anyone. Low key annoyed in general. Would back stab you without a thought, given a reason. Knows a lot about cooking. I mean, if you’re going to poison someone or at least know how to work in the biolab you should probably know how this type of chemistry works. dodges responsibility a lot tho.

Titania: flighty as fuck, gets startled easily. graceful; she has good fashion sense. you have no idea where she came from in the room. fairy tales are definitely her thing, but happy endings really aren't true with that state of things right now in the solar system. too many butterflies, but is fine with it since they help her stay calm. Actually really good at flying archwings, I think?

Trinity: First one to rush into the fight, last one to leave until everyone is okay. Is the Mom friend. Likes to be helpful. Rather much a bitch to those she hates. She may have an open heart, but don’t walk all over this girl. Cross her once, shame on you. Cross her twice, she leaves you for dead on eris, end of story.

Valkyr: Look, she’s been through some shit, has ptsd, the very least you can do is give her a cat plushie and your support, okay? Gets angry easily and has meltdowns. She’s not a pushover. She knows what’s best, she can endure. semi serious, jokes fly over her head. it may take a bit for her to like you. literally a cat frame, you don’t know love until you've been loved by a cat.

Vauban: Forget Limbo being a troll. This is THE trollframe. Went to college for engineering, came back out a smart ass. Don’t loan money to him, he prolly won’t pay ya back. Pretty good drinking buddy tho. Reads a shit ton of shakespear to know what that sense of humor really is. Shit poster, meme hoarder extrordinaire. you can have a grenade! And you can have a grenade! YOU ALL CAN HAVE GRENADES!

Volt: Impeccable taste mixed with sharp commentary. Why does he have a helmet that’s a boob? maybe he has a high schooler’s sense of humor? would be honest with you and tell you straight up what needs to be done. This guy likes expensive suits. Has a tendency to be impulsive.

Wukong: Has loads of stories to tell. Good memory. Can comeback from just about any setback. determined and will happily grind with you in missions for hours. Also pretty damn stubborn and doesn’t listen well to others, kinda has to speak first.

Zephyr: Life’s a breeze here, right? Kinda goes with whatever and has a hard time deciding on things. Kinda clumsy too. Crashes raids and blows away the enemy. Usually minds her own business with her head in the clouds.

Epithymy Chapter Six

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 Something was off, but for the life of him, Chrollo couldn’t figure out what it was.

 For the third time since that morning, Silva pulled out the map and held it close to his chest, reading it as he walked. Every so often he would glance up at the sun and reorient them, taking them due south and deeper into the humid, arid forest. Chrollo fanned himself with his hand, recalling all too well how disgusting it had felt traveling through a similar heat when he first had left the Underdark. What he wouldn’t give to go back to the town from before. A cold mug of mead sounded like a dream right now, one he would pay any sum to enjoy.

 “As much as I adore putting my faith in your navigation skills,” Chrollo said, breaking the silence that had been following them doggedly for the past ten miles, “I think that avoiding weather like this would probably be better than diving head first into it.”

 Silva peered over the top of the map, glaring at him without much heat. When surrounded by the wet, sticky air, there was no heat left to sting as much as the weather already did. “I know what I’m doing,” he grunted, going back to whatever it was he thought he was accomplishing behind there.

 “Sure, if you say so,” Chrollo grumbled, shifting his folded cloak to the other arm, a thin layer of sweat sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I know what you’re doing. Why don’t you let me lead for a bit? Let’s go back north. This heat is awful.” If the humidity got any thicker, it would be like drowning with every breath he took.

 “Suck it up and deal with it,” Silva grunted, in no mood to play it seemed. “I know where we’re going.”

 “And where is that?” Chrollo snapped a little, his own patience evaporating like the sweat on his dark skin. Gods, but it was hot. Did he feel it worse than Silva, or did Silva just handle it better? There wasn’t an ounce of shade along the path they traveled, the only spot of cover in sight some far off forest that looked just as stifling with the thick heat mirage rippling along the stretch of space between them. Could there really be a town out here? How did they survive with it so oppressively hot?

 “Where we need to be, brat, so stop harping on it.” Silva folded up the map with an annoyed air, shoving it deep into his pack without another word. He held a hand over his eyes and looked off towards the forest, orienting them towards it silently. Chrollo sighed and glared at him, but if he felt it, he didn’t make it known.

 “You’re being such an ass today,” he mumbled, shifting his cloak again into the other arm, regretting not keeping enough space open in his pack to let him shove it in there so he wouldn’t have to carry it. “You’ve been an ass since we left that other village. Did you forget your manners back there? Maybe we should double back to get them.” Before he got fed up enough with Silva to stab him, he added silently with a glare hot enough to make Silva turn.

 For a moment, it looked like Silva might snap back at him. Instead, he took in a deep breath and looked back ahead, letting it out with a low sigh. “Just keep moving,” he muttered, shifting his back higher, his own fur-lined mantle tucked under his strap to hang from the bag. The glint of his axe in the sunlight was nearly blinding. “It’s too hot to argue and we need to get into the forest before we run out of water.”

 Chrollo groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wasn’t used to this sort of heat at all. The Underdark was nearly frigid, any light that shined down there created through artificial means. The sun baked him from above, his dark hair holding the heat like a stone. How surface-dwellers put up with it, he would never know.

 But, in the end, Silva was right. Once Chrollo stopped complaining, he found that the walk did go faster. The sun rose and then began to list to the west, its overbearing heat easing slightly as it lost its apex. Chrollo was completely soaked in sweat when they finally ducked into the trees, the shade granting some relief, but not much. The humidity was even more thick here, sticky and heavy and just barely preferable to what it had been before.

 “Great Gods far below,” Chrollo swore, leaning heavily against a tree. “I fucking hate this. I hate this place so much.”

 “Whining won’t make it better,” Silva said, his own breathing labored, his long hair bundled up in a messy bun on the top of his head. His pale skin was flushed red, his simple shirt soaked through with sweat. He pulled the axe off his shoulder and carried it in his hands as he pressed on, forcing Chrollo to keep moving.

 “It’ll make me feel better,” Chrollo gasped, stumbling behind him weakly. “Can we please, for the love of all that resides beneath our feet, make camp soon?”

 “There’s still daylight to burn,” Silva tried to say, but Chrollo just shoved forward and blocked the man’s path, chest heaving as he tried to breath in the air that stuck in his throat.

 “If we don’t stop soon, I am going to pass out,” he said, stumbling a little in his search for another tree to lean against. “Seriously, Silva. I don’t think I can keep up this pace with it so hot.”

 Silva let out an annoyed growl, but it seemed he was too worn out himself to bother arguing. He let out a breath and nodded, looking around at the wilderness surrounding them. “Let’s at least get deeper in,” he sighed, taking Chrollo by the arm to get him moving. “We need to find a clearing so we can make a fire.”

 Chrollo pulled a face, his vision swimming a bit. “A fire? In this heat?” He was cringing at the thought alone.

 “You want to eat tonight? It’ll help keep animals away, too. Always make a fire, brat. Even in heat like this,” Silva lectured, dragging Chrollo through a thick bunch of vines to deposit them into the first clearish space they had seen yet. Chrollo didn’t bother to yank himself free of Silva’s hand. He just shucked off his pack and crumpled to his knees, letting Silva hold onto his arm as he finally rested.

 “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he groaned, his hand falling down beside him on the ground when Silva dropped it. “You go do that. I’m gonna. Breathe. For a bit.” Try to, at least. Gods, it was so hard to breathe here. He heard more than saw Silva walk off to gather wood. There was plenty around them so he wouldn’t have to go far, luckily. The clearing was strewn with all sorts of loose branches and the like, some dried while others looked soaked through with the moisture afflicting everything in the forest’s embrace. Chrollo closed his eyes and caught his breath. With the sun off him and the hike over, he could begin to cool down a little.

 He opened them back up when he heard a soft sort of clatter, turning a bit to watch Silva deposit an armful of small branches into a pile. He knelt down with a handful of moss and set himself to stacking it all together, building up the fire the way he always did when they made camp. A lot of skill went into the movements. Silva had been doing this for decades. It showed.

 Silva edged away from him the moment Chrollo tried to sit beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, scooting closer to spite Silva. “Not feeling like talking to me now? I just wanted to watch you work.”

 “It’s too hot to have you clinging to me, brat. Go drink some water and leave me be,” Silva said a little harshly, a flood of sparks rising off the flint and steel to fall on the tinder bundle tucked inside the dried sticks. A few caught and Silva leaned down to blow gently on it, coaxing it into a small fire within a minute or two. There was a lot more smoke than there usually was, probably from all the moisture in the wood.

 As weary as he was from the day’s travel, Chrollo figured he knew the way to alleviate whatever it was bothering Silva. He moved closer to Silva despite his admonishments, draping himself against the man’s solid, muscled shoulder. “I know a better way to deal with the heat,” he whispered, kissing Silva’s cheek, running his hand down Silva’s arm to rest over his hand. “Why don’t we sweat it out together?”

 Silva stilled, his breath catching in his throat. Chrollo smiled and moved his lips to Silva’s ear, teasing him with a soft gasp. “You’ve been so tense today,” he breathed, lacing their fingers together, bringing Silva’s hand to settle on his thigh. “So on edge. Do you want me to help? Let me make you feel better.”

 Cool blue eyes took him in, a shiver running down Chrollo’s spine. Silva stared at his lips, and then lower, following the line of Chrollo’s neck down to his clavicles. “It’s…” His eyes closed, his jaw tightening. He pulled away from Chrollo and stood up, leaving him on the ground by the fire. “No. I’m going to go bathe. I’ll be back in a bit.”

 Chrollo blinked, staring up at the hunter in disbelief. “Oh, well,” he murmured, beginning to lift himself off the ground. “I’ll come with you.” It was so hot here. A dip in a river would be heaven.

 “No you won’t,” Silva grunted, looking off into the trees. “Stay here. Finish making the camp up. I don’t need you hanging on me as I wash.” He turned and began to move towards the tree line. “It’s hot enough right now as it is.”

 It stung more than it should have. Chrollo crossed his arms and sat back down, glaring at Silva’s shoulders as he walked off into the woods. What was that all about? “Fine then!” he shouted at his retreating back. “Don’t drown yourself!”

 Silva didn’t even react, and within a few seconds, he disappeared entirely, vanishing amongst the thick foliage and hanging branches. Chrollo sighed and kicked at a log half in the fire, watching the sparks rise up in a wave nearly as angry as he was. What on earth was going on with him? Chrollo had been around plenty of men, but in his experience they tended to sweeten their disposition after getting off as much as Silva had.

 “His loss, then,” he muttered to himself, glaring into the crackling fire. If he didn’t want to touch Chrollo, then he didn’t have to. It would have been nice to have been rejected in a kinder way, but Silva had always been a rough brute of a man, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

 Rubbing at his eyes, Chrollo told himself to stop thinking about it. It didn’t matter. Not really. Silva was probably just irritated from all the walking and the humidity. There was no point in taking it personally.

 Chrollo sighed. Logically, he knew that, but it was still hard not to be upset. Things had been going well, hadn’t they? What a mess this had turned into. He really hoped it was just the weather. He really hoped the irritability would pass like a bad storm. Maybe it would once they got out of this forest.

 But that begged the question of where they even were right now. Chrollo rolled onto his knees and looked for Silva’s bag, spotting it off against a far tree. He moved towards it, digging into the bag for the map he knew to be inside. Silva had been so cagey about where they were heading. Any attempts to pick the next destination had been met with staunch refusal to Chrollo’s utter chagrin. If Silva thought he could bogart the map, though, he had another thing coming.

 Clothes, whetstones, some dried jerky– Chrollo rooted through it all, snagging a piece of jerky to chew as he searched for what he knew had to be inside. Gods, Silva was a slob. Nothing was organized in here. The clothes were all wrinkled, the weapons strewn about in a manner that Chrollo figured had to be dangerous. It was only after a few minutes of constant digging that his fingers brushed crisp parchment tucked inside a side pocket. Smiling victoriously around his mouthful, Chrollo swallowed and yanked it free, setting it in his lap.

 His smile morphed into a confused frown a moment later when he realized he had grabbed two pieces of parchment, not just one. The one on top, the thicker of the two, opened up to reveal the map. Chrollo glanced at it, tracing his fingertip along the route they had taken thus far. They had been walking for a couple days since the last village, their progress directed towards the south. Traveling at Silva’s side had given him a rough estimate of distance and walking speed, and with a bit of quick addition, he gathered they were somewhere within the Berserian Forest.

 Chrollo bit his lip, his finger traveling a little lower over an x that marked what he knew to be an entrance to the Underdark. That x… that hadn’t been there before, had it? Chrollo would have noticed it when he had stolen the map, wouldn’t he? He drew the map closer to his face, the evening far from too dark for him to see through. A cursory sniff told him the ink was fresh. Much fresher than the rest around it.

 Running his fingers through his hair, Chrollo tried to keep the inevitable thoughts at bay. It was just a coincidence, right? Silva had probably just marked the Underdark entrance to make sure they steered clear of it. They were heading south because there had to be some major city he wanted to go to. A city with big bounties and a big enough crowd that Chrollo could get lost in; a place where Chrollo didn’t have to worry about being seen or targeted.

 His heart lurched in his chest when he forced himself to look back down at the map. Once the forest ended, there was nothing southwards. Nothing besides a few insignificant dots that symbolized villages too small to bother with.

 A branch snapped somewhere behind him and Chrollo whirled around, breath choked and adrenaline pumping like a heady cocktail of fear and instinct. He scanned the darkening treeline. Was it Silva? An ambush?

 He jumped half a foot in the air a moment later, only to catch himself when his eyes recognized the disturbance for what it was. A squirrel ran out through the clearing, darting past him to reach the other side of the camp. Chrollo let out a short gasp of a laugh, smacking his cheeks a little. His heart hammered in his chest. He needed to calm down. This was silly. This was so silly. He knew nothing at all, really. Not nearly enough to be getting so paranoid, at any rate.

 “Just breathe,” he told himself under his breath, rubbing at his eyes. “Just. Breathe.”

 A much needed breeze rolled through the clearing, cooling the sweat on his brow. The leaves whispered and the grass answered, the parchment crinkling along, begging to be included. Chrollo looked down at the other sheet, his hand stalling just above it. A feeling of disquiet filled him, only growing stronger when his touched the papery surface. For some reason, he didn’t know if he wanted to look at it.

 He closed his eyes, laughing at himself a little. What was he so afraid of? It was just a little piece of paper, no bigger than a sheaf from a book. He snatched up the page and opened with his eyes still closed, taking in a deep breath, refusing to let his smile fall. Silly. So silly.

 Silly as it was, he couldn’t help but count to three before he opened his eyes.

 Confusion greeted him first one he did. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, the thick, ornate script a little hard to read. He ran his finger beneath the first line, parsing out slowly what was written.      Here by that which has been agreed up in order of His Lordship in search of the aforementioned…    Chrollo relaxed a bit, realizing it was just a contract. For a bounty? Some sort of acquisition, it looked like. Was this what they were going south for? Chrollo wondered who on earth could have given it to Silva. They had been together pretty much the whole time.

 Chrollo cursed whoever had written this. He scooted closer to the fire in hopes that the unnecessary light might help him read the looping, cramped script easier. There should be a name on here, one that told who had ordered the bounty. So much legal-speak. It was a wonder Silva was able to read any of this at all. He supposed that working with these types of contracts often allowed for a certain amount of proficiency. It would be a necessary skill to learn if Chrollo wanted to be a hunter too.

 With that in mind, he set to studying the page before him. First came a few paragraphs of various clauses, it looked like, all outlining the various rights and claims each party had. Things to protect from scams and double-crosses, a few lines here and there to account for injuries and compensations. Whoever had written this was thorough. Exceedingly so. Silva was dealing with a professional, one who knew what they were doing and weren’t afraid of covering every single possibility that might arise.

 Moving on, Chrollo narrowed his eyes at the next section. His attention wavered when he was met with another thick block of text, the script all the more cramped, the words nearly unreadable. He snapped back into focus when he caught sight of a tangled      Dr–.    Could it… No, there was no way. It couldn’t say Drow, could it?

 It took a moment for him to realize his heart was pounding. Chrollo looked down and covered his heart with his hand with a frown. He needed to calm down, he told himself. It was too early to be making snap assumptions. Just keep reading. It was probably nothing.

 The next paragraph made his heart stutter. For a moment, he swore it stopped entirely. The script changed suddenly as if written in another hand. The words seemed illuminated, drawing his eye and stealing his breath from his lungs as mercilessly as a punch to the gut.

     Upon completion of the outlined task, His Lordship, the renowned Hisoka Morrow, Purveyor of the Western Underdark and the most loyal servant of the Council–  

 His eyes began to blur, so much so that he could barely read what remained. He didn’t need to, though. He would know the hand of his lover anywhere. How many years had he sat at Hisoka’s side, watching him work, watching him sign document after document, ending lives with just an errant scratch of his plumed quill? Chrollo sagged forward, catching himself in the dirt, something like anger flooding his veins.

 What was this? How could this be? It had to be a mistake. He forced himself to look, to see past the fury, the betrayal.

     Signed by the Hunter Silva Zoldyck on behalf of his most noble Lordship in that the return of one Chrollo Lucilfer be made swift and punctually–  

 “What are you doing on the ground, brat?” an annoyed voice asked, the forest crackling and crunching in deference to his arrival. “I’m gone for an hour and you’re already making a mess of yourself.”

 Chrollo was on his feet in an instant, the contract clenched in his shaking fist. The very air tasted bitter on his tongue, and when he saw Silva, saw him with his shirt slung over his shoulder, his long hair wet and tossed over alongside it, as guiltless as priest, Chrollo saw red. Blood red.

 “What is this, Silva?” he breathed, his body cold, his breath coming short. “What did you do?”

 Silva had the audacity to look confused, but it only lasted for a moment. After that, he just looked ashamed. “Chrollo,” he murmured, taking a step closer, reaching for him with the hands that had signed the contract. With hands that had sold Chrollo out like chattel. “It’s not what you think.”

 “Then what is it?!” Chrollo shouted, eyes pricking with moisture. He threw the contract up to Silva’s eye level, reaching for a dagger from his hip. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you sold me out!”

 The man snarled, moving into Chrollo’s space. “I didn’t,” he bit, and if he was just a touch more angry, maybe Chrollo would buy it. “You have it all wrong.”

 “Do I?” Chrollo hissed. “Then explain why you have my lover’s signature on this?” He brandished the parchment, jabbing the point of his dagger at the looping name tucked so neatly into the corner of the page. “Explain why the hell you signed next to it?”

 “Put the knife down, brat,” Silva ordered, somehow keeping cool despite the tempest of emotions assaulting Chrollo. He lifted his hands placatingly, hair still dripping wetly from the river he had just come from. For a moment, the memory of him submerged in the water and spitting curses rose up in Chrollo’s mind, overlaying the present like a cruel joke.

 “I won’t,” Chrollo breathed, throwing down the contract, holding the dagger out in front of him. “Not until you explain yourself.”

 “I did it for you, alright?” Silva shouted, his loud voice rolling through the clearing, echoing off the trees like a clap of thunder. His chest heaved and his glare was as hot as the fire behind them. “They came to me. Threatened to break my arms if I didn’t hear them out. You miss your lover so much? Well, he misses you too, brat.”

 “What are you talking about?” The dagger in his hand shook, his feet moving him back as Silva steadily worked his way closer. “Hisoka did this? How did they find me?”

 Silva rolled his eyes. “They’ve been tracking us since the cave,” he grunted, averting his eyes, glaring somewhere past Chrollo. Chrollo ached to look, to follow his gaze, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on Silva. “There are dozens of hunters looking for you. I took the damn contract to get the information they had. To see how much they knew.”

 The dagger fell an inch and Silva matched it, moving that much closer. “How… How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked. “I saw the reward. I saw how much he was promising.” It was more than enough to incite betrayal. Far more than enough.

 “Because,” Silva said, his voice soft though his features were hard. “We’re partners, aren’t we?”

 Chrollo froze, his eyes wide. He wanted to believe him; every inch of him wanted to believe that Silva spoke the truth. He wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the man before him, looking him in the eye, searching for the truth. Silva sighed and drew ever closer, arms outstretched to embrace him.

 When he wrapped his arms around Chrollo, it almost felt the same as it had before. Silva was warm. So warm. “Do you… Do you promise?” Chrollo’s voice was shaky, his face buried in Silva’s chest. The dagger slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud, nerves soothed by the man’s familiar scent, by his addicting warmth.

 Silva didn’t answer. He held tighter, holding a hand to Chrollo’s head, keeping his face on his shoulder.

 “Silva?” Chrollo whispered, tugging against his hold, stomach twisting anxiously.

 “I’m sorry,” came the low, whispered reply.

 There was a sharp jab as something was stabbed into Chrollo’s thigh, and then a dizzying rush as the world began to tilt on its axis. Chrollo clung to Silva’s chest, staring up at him, confusion brimming in his eyes. “What?” he gasped, his knees giving out. Silva caught him before he could fall, but he hid his face from Chrollo, staring at the ground.

 “Just sleep,” Silva’s low voice rumbled, Chrollo’s eyes so heavy that they refused to remain open. “Just sleep and it’ll all be over once you wake.”

 All over? What would be? But blackness encroached greedily, devouring him completely before he could ask.

My friend, I am redo this post again, because previously the same article had been deleted, so…:

Have you accepted the Facebook Community Standards As your lord and savior, when I said what your post is garbage then it must be?

*** *** ***

Do you get stuck the work-eat-entertainment-sleep-kiss-dark-tyrant-ass cycle as life? No I’m delivering a bridge just like our china traditional great saints to save world.

*** *** ***

“Student”(solar): “ I’m doing nothing right now and it’s all illusion, Maya, mirage.. *** *** *** "Master"（Mr. Bean）:“ My dear solar, You can say you’re doing nothing. And maybe you are doing nothing, but we want you to notice the difference between being and being and being a doing, I’m a human being not a human doing. So doing nothing it’s just fine, being consciously aware of what you are offering vibrationally, being aware of what you’re emanating, being aware that the vibrational relationship between the vibration of your inner being, who is pure vibration with no resistance, and where you are in relationship to that. *** *** *** Before you can be allowed into systems of reality that are more extensive and open, you must first learn to handle energy, and see, through physical materialization, the concrete result of thought and emotion. As a forms mud pies from dirt, so you form your civilizationout of thoughts and emotions, and then see what you have created, and you must deal with it on its terms. Seth (Jane Roberts), The Early Sessions , Book9, Session 446. *** *** *** There have a true story, happen in Taiwan. Once upon a time, there is a lady asking a master, …: Lady ask: “Master, several days ago, I see my husband in the bed with another women... make love, how can I do about it? *** *** ***  The master answer:  “Lady,... just tell yourself it illusion, Maya, mirage.”; “Lady,... just tell yourself it your eyes have bad karma, so you see your husband in the bed with others women make love ….><!!!” *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** And this why???  In the east, there are so many enlightened masters that have passed away, but the mankind history still repeat it, and generation after generation, keep regurgitating what-is thousands of years, ~~~><!!! *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** A wife came home early and found her husband with another woman.  His story just is one in a million. *** But why the mankind history still repeat it, and generation after generation, keep regurgitating what-is thousands of years???  Why? Why? Why?  *** *** ***  Do you want tell the lady…: “Lady,... just tell yourself it illusion, Maya, mirage.”; *** Does any of those people (your husband ) truly exist (objectively out there) when you stop remembering and conjuring them in this moment inside you ??? *** *** ***  Do you want tell the peoples…: North Korea does not exist, North Korea launches missiles is illusion, Maya, mirage. *** Does any of those dark tyranny rulers (North Korea ) truly exist (objectively out there) when you stop remembering and conjuring them in this moment inside you ??? *** *** ***  In this world, something you will never true understanding it, until the same challange, same situation happen on you and you must face it, deal with it. *** In this world, “word”(language) no teaching, life itself teaching you, because, …: *** Everyone tells you what to do and what’s good for you.  They don’t want you to find your own answers.  They what you to believe theirs. ~Socrates *** *** *** The simple believeth every word: but the prudent man looketh well to his going. 愚蒙人是話都信，智慧通達者步步審慎。 ～Proverbs 14:15 King James Bible *** *** *** Just don’t sloppy what you are pick up as “me; mine; myself” & “real; true”. *** *** *** Some People Will Like You If You Fit Their Box, Don’t Be Afraid To Shove That Box Up Their Ass. *** *** *** When they call you loyalty, great service saints, great obey “solider”(children; woman), make sure you don’t kiss dark tyrant ass. *** *** *** People say, "Oh you're so selfish. You're pleasing you." And what they mean is "You should please me." You're selfish because you please you - and I'm not selfish because I think you should please me instead of you? There's some screwy reasoning going on. And every time it matters to you to please them instead of you, oh it's such short-term gain, such short-term gain. ~Abraham-Hicks, San Diego, CA, 9.19.09 *** *** *** When we fully embody both our darkness and our light, We are no longer obedient, and vulnerable to the predator. *** *** *** At your absolute best, you still won't be good enough for the wrong-kiss-ass person. At your worst, you'll still be worth it to the right-alignment-deliberate person. *** *** *** When they call you loyalty, great service saints, great obey “solider”(children; woman), make sure you don’t kiss dark tyrant ass. *** *** *** You must learn to deal with your own beliefs directly or you will be forced to deal with them indirectly - by reacting to them quite without knowing it in your physical experience. - Seth The Nature of Personal Reality *** *** *** If you were a sloppier creator,  it would have come to you faster. But because you’re picky in your Vortex,  you’re picky about what you want,  and it’s not going to come to you before you’re ready for it when it comes. And getting ready for it when it comes – that’s the best part of life. That is the sweet spot:  getting yourself ready for what you’re rendezvousing with,  because if you rendezvoused with what you’re not ready for, you wouldn’t like it. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** *** Be a master of reality, so don't recycle your kiss dark tyrant ruler’s ass history, otherwise don't tell me you are enlightenment *** *** *** Who is lucky one who can don't recycle their kiss dark tyrant ruler’s ass history, in every area??? *** *** *** Detox your timeline, your page, your home, your refrigerator, under your counters, your closet, your ride, your phone, your life & mindset  *** *** *** Connection doesn't care about the laws of he land.  Your soul will be pulled to the place it belongs.  *** *** *** People not Addicted To Alcohol Or Drugs, They Are Addicted To Those Disconnect Given Rules, use different name, fight each other. *** *** *** They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession. -Jim Morrison *** *** *** As Soon As You're Born You Are Given A Username, A Religion/Morality, A Nationality And A Race. You Spend The Rest Of Your Life Defending A  Fictional Identity.  *** *** *** At your absolute best, you still won't be good enough for the wrong-kiss-ass person. At your worst, you'll still be worth it to the right-alignment-deliberate person. *** *** *** People can only meet you, as deep as they've met themselves  *** *** *** People all over the world are searching for a deep connection with someone.  Only a few are searching for a deep connection with themselves  *** *** *** Human is the one who recycle their kiss dark tyrant ruler’s ass history and has a miserable life and then a miserable death, and then croaks. In other words, it is human that does that to himself. *** *** *** What fascinates fascinates me is that...  Hardly anyone is wondering what we're doing on this planet.  Most people have accepted the work-eat-entertainment-sleep-kiss ass-cycle and have no desire to have a deeper understanding of life *** *** *** When they call you loyalty, great service saints, great obey “solider”(children; woman), make sure you don’t kiss dark tyrant ass. *** *** *** "If you end up with a boring, miserable kiss-dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass-life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, than you deserve it." *** *** *** Connection doesn’t care about the laws of the land.  Your soul/heart will be pulled to the place it belongs. *** *** *** We do ourselves a tremendous favor by letting go of the people who poison our spirit. *** *** *** Who/what poison our spirit?  Those preach/teach kiss dark tyrant ruler's ass religion/moral/political *** *** *** Unchain yourself from your kiss-dark-tyrant-ruler's-ass-mindset by as an alignment deliberate creator. No matter of what kind of area/topic...^^ *** *** *** Why really is rare?  Because don't preach/teach kiss dark tyrant ruler's ass religion/moral/political is very rare *** *** *** Looking for truth? Observe people's habitual behavior patterns/cycles.  The truth is in their patterns and cycles.  Not so much their word *** *** *** The Mind Is A Powerful Force. It Can Enslave Us Or Empower Us. It Can Plunge Us Into The Depths Of Misery Or Take Us To The Heights Of Ecstasy. Learn To Use The Power Wisely. *** *** ***

當其它人盲目追隨"真理"（君王以己出經式的欺德）之刻，記住，萬物皆虛妄！ 當其它人被"道德和法律"（君王以己出經式的欺德）束縛之刻，記住，萬事皆允可！ 道生法；道生智，悟性歸於大道！

*** *** ***

Otherwise…:

"A sheep spends its whole life fearing wolves but eventually gets eaten by the shepherd"

*** *** ***

I once had a Gold Honda Accord like this; it was stolen

I’m horrible at telling stories out loud, like at a party or in a loud bar. I’m just not good at it. Some people relish the attention and curiosity a good story affords, but I generally want no part in it.

Something happens in the nanoseconds between when people are riffing and I recall a moment worth sharing and then I tee it up to a group of listeners, willing or otherwise. It just goes south...and fast. I lose all sense of pacing and delivery, and I get nervous and my hands start moving continuously and my eyes get big and I just want to disappear. And then I don’t know where to look and then I start seeing that I’m losing people and I get flustered and weird. What a mess, right? 

I think it stems from just never really feeling comfortable talking about myself or my experiences. I never got that. Somehow the moments in my life and what I’ve witnessed seem inauthentic compared with someone else and their life. In my family, at least on my mom’s side, to talk about ourselves in any way was near criminal, an act of arrogance that made you look selfish or something, bringing you undeserved attention. So I never did it. Does my mother have a favorite food or film? I couldn’t tell you. I think that’s mostly from why I’m abysmal at talking in groups. It’s not that I haven’t experienced anything important or impactful, obviously, but for me to convey it and share it with another takes a form of ego I never learned to have.

Yes, I know I’m not a child anymore and it’s time to be an adult. I get it.

But I have learned over the years to navigate around that roadblock: I just write things down. Writing suits me better. Sitting alone is easy and mulling things over and pulling out of my brain whatever I want without having to consider an immediate audience and their needs is a piece of cake. And I can edit and revise and get up for coffee and come back and keep plugging away. Simple.

The story I’m about to recount for you is actually one that I have broken character for in the past and have told out loud to close friends over the years. I’m not contradicting myself; if anything this story is the exception that proves the rule. I’m firmly aware that it’s the one time in life I’ve drawn a real winner, and it always seems to bring the house down whenever I trot it out or am coaxed by someone who knows it. It’s one that even my most hardened of friends -- the ones who would rather spare a limb than laugh with exuberance at anything -- can’t deny in the moment. What makes it so good? Its universality, that’s what. It’s something that could have happened to anyone, or at least a part of it is relatable, I believe.

But the one thing I’ve never done is actually write this down, and before all of the particulars escape me, I probably should. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, mostly because it’s also the one story I have that cracks me up every time I think of it.

---

I often think about how I would share the moment were I a stand-up comic and I wanted to immediately win over disenchanted audience members.

It would start something like this: Good evening, everyone! Good evening. So....How many of you have ever had your car stolen? 

I know, I know...it happens.

(Pause for some mild laughter, applause and hoots from the crowd)

Ok, ok...well, how many of you have had your car stolen and then...how many of you stole the car back from the people that stole it from you?

(Pause for maybe louder laughter or people yelling at me to get off stage)

-----

It was the winter of 2003. Shifting into my mid twenties after college meant a lot of ego bruising and mostly failing at life in a new city. I was no longer a big fish on a college campus (but was I ever?). Everything had come to a standstill. I had either lost a decent editing job or I was about to lose it (can’t remember), and my roommate and I had a falling out over nothing significant but it was still cataclysmic at the time. Then she moved into her own place, and then I was on the precipice of leaving Somerville, Mass. and Boston for good and retreating to my grandmother’s home and finally accepting that maybe my misguided attempt at just being cool wasn’t really a solid strategy for living. I needed to grow up and fast; money was running out. I teetered on the brink of having enough cash for a burrito and gas every day, and any major expense could shut me down completely. Great days, for sure.

In the midst of all that personal tumult, a party in Providence drew me out one frigid evening. I had to maintain some type of contact with the outside world in order to keep from melting down completely, and some friends had established a crew outpost down there, and they invited me over. Some records, some drinks to pass some hours. I was in.

The short of it is that it was a nice time, and then I made the drive home in the early hours of the morning. Unlike some stories, the party isn’t where the action of this story goes down.

Parking in my area was something you prayed for on a good day, but parking there at four in the morning on a weekend, well you could basically forget about it. I could be circling for hours, but then again, I guess I wasn’t on much of a schedule so it didn’t much matter. But...but...but....what was this I saw? Was it a mirage in a parking desert? How the hell was I getting lucky now? Who moved at this hour and why hadn’t someone else scooped this up? Just steps from my apartment and just close enough to a forbidden yellow intersection corner that could get you towed (but still just enough space to squeeze in my 1994 Champagne Honda Accord) was a glorious spot just waiting on me. It practically had my name on it in neon. I was tired and the thought of an hour-long hunt for parking at that hour was horrifying. So I squeezed in and thought that even if I got a ticket for being too close to the intersection, then it was worth it for snatching the trophy of actual parking on my block.

I locked up, got inside, brushed my teeth and called it a damn night.

Beautiful.

---

Before I proceed, there’s something I should come clean about. In my family, we may have not talked much, but my folks always made sure I had a car. I have to give them props for it. It was always a Honda Accord and it always worked, barring a few exceptions (there was a time my stepdad pushed my broken-down car with his car on the side of I-26, but that’s a story for another time). I have vivid memories of my mom sourly telling me how coveted and how easy to steal the “Champagne” (her words) Honda Accord was, and it looks like that is somewhat true. I guess my thought on that is why don’t they get another kind of car, but since my mom bought her very first Accord in 1984 with her own money (God, I remember how excited and happy she was at the time. I can still see it.) she has been devoted to the brand. So in college and after, my car was the Gold Accord and that is what I was driving that fateful night in Somerville, Massachusetts. That is the car that was parked on the street.

---

Sometimes you wake up early even when you’re bone tired. Whether it’s for a bathroom break, a bad dream or an invasive car alarm goes off, it can happen. That morning, I remember jumping up about halfway into my sleep, around 8:30 A.M., just to make sure I hadn’t been ticketed for parking near the yellow part of the curb. By that point, alternate side parking would have kicked in, and I likely could have just moved it with some ease.

Walk to the window while rubbing my eyes. The wood floor cold on my bare feet.

CAR...IS...DEFINITELY...NOT...THERE...OH...GOD...WHERE...IS...MY...CAR.

I am now awake.

Reacting to my first thought that the car had been towed, I called the number for the city’s tow lot to check in on my precious Accord. At the time, I was basically living off quarters from my couch, so I wasn’t certain I could pay to get my car back, but I had some time to figure it out if that meant calling either of my folks and begging a bit.

“Listen, your car isn’t here yet,” a really bored voice responded on the other end of the phone. I’m sure I was panting, knowing me. “But the tow trucks are all on their way back from nightly runs, so give it an hour an call back. Nothing else for me to tell ya.” It was definitely a ‘ya’ and not a ‘you.’

It’s cool, just wait an hour to hear if you have a car or not! Don’t stress or anything. No big deal. Sheesh.

I can’t help the predictability of the story so far. Stick with me, stuff starts happening.

Yes, I call back the tow lot an hour later. Probably the worst hour of my life: exhausted and horrified. You can guess what happened: The car didn’t come back on the trucks, because why would it, which means it had been stolen, a fact that now maybe seems less surprising if I heeded my mom’s multiple warnings and given that a year ago the guy my roommate was dating at the time had his car stolen off our block. But that was the only time I ever heard about that happening in our neighborhood; it wasn’t a common occurrence. I was used to parking tickets, but not this.

“Didn’t I put the damn club on the car before going upstairs? Did they break through it?”

I’m on just a few hours sleep; I was really looking forward to just wasting this cold winter day doing not much more than sleeping, eating the scraps in the fridge and maybe some more sleeping. Instead, I bundled up and headed out to the area police department to file a stolen car report, a trip so certain to turn up nothing that I couldn’t even tell why I was doing it. If my car wasn’t already turned inside out for its parts or sold off entirely and was on its way elsewhere, then I would have been massively surprised. I pictured a guy, a guy with bad skin and gloves -- yes an ‘80s movie villain -- and a leather jacket dropping it off somewhere to the big boss in a fancy suit. I think I’m picturing the auto garage in Adventures in Babysitting, aren’t I?

If you’ve stuck with me so far, here’s where it kicks in: I’m out in the cold and in the snow, I’ve been walking for a minute and I roll up to this curb in Somerville’s Union Square. Do you know it? Back in 2003, it wasn’t much. It had a random cafe or two, PA’s Lounge (where I saw Floor and Converge play to virtually no one) and maybe some laundromats and bodegas and taco joints. I don’t know what it is now because I haven’t been there in years, but back then it still was pretty anonymous.

Union Square in Somerville, Mass.

I hit the corner of Walnut and Bow Streets, and this is when it gets real.

My car. My precious Gold Honda Accord that survived a drive from Goose Creek, South Carolina all the way to Massachusetts in order to be my sturdy companion was just sitting there on the corner. ON THE CORNER! It was mine; it had the Carolina plates. No mistaking it. And it was running. The car was running...and...it was unlocked. My stolen car, in front of my face, running on the side of the road, looking so sad and alone, discarded as if it had no owner or a purpose. But the owner was me! What the? Why the? Is this candid camera? Or, perhaps it was left running while the crummy thieves went into a bodega to get some snacks before heading out of town? Who knows. This was before I had a cell phone, so I couldn’t notify police and stay with the car until they arrived. It was so insane and unbelievable that I would be walking down any street, to the police department no less, and see my stolen car running. I did a 360, spinning around to make sure I wasn’t being watched and there was no one running back to it. And I just drove away. I legit drove with my eyes going in a million different places at once, half expecting someone to start shooting at me on this damn semi-suburban street. People were walking to get milk or head to the bus, and I was taking my car back from jerks. It was such an insane experience and sensation to have in essence stolen my car back from whoever took it from me. It was the weirdest, dumbest, most bewildering feeling. But I was happy, of course, to have it back.

So what do I do? What does this guy do?

I go home of course because where else can I go? Neither of my parents lived in the state and what could my friends do? We were all broke at the time of our lives, so they weren’t gonna be much help. To get the car started, the thieves had to gut the ignition, so I couldn’t even turn off the Honda. I drove it home. Yes, there was parking at that hour, so I’m in my car and in front of my house. Life is so dumb. I have the key, but I can’t turn off the car, but I can lock it. I have a locked, running car on my hands. So I run up and I call my mother. Of course, she is dumbfounded.

“You what? You found what? You found it where? Huh? Go to the police department with it and tell them.” She’s literally screaming into the phone, which was cordless, so I’m keeping one eye on the street and my car while she’s talking. It was all so bizarre.

It was probably close to ten in the morning at this time.

Going to the Somerville police made the most sense, I suppose, but what to say and how to say it? While driving there, I noticed whoever stole the car dug a knife or a key into the front interior, slicing it up in places because maybe they were bored or something? The radio was still there, but they stole the knob to control the AC and heat? Who were these dummies?

The parking lot for the Somerville station isn’t big; I pull up and I still can’t turn off the car. It’s just chilling and running, doing it’s sad thing. I’m not smooth or particularly persuasive or forceful, so I just go in and tell the police at the front desk what happened. They looked me like I was a jerk as I was explaining this idiot caper to them. Maybe I’m lucky they didn’t cuff me? 

Officer Bennett in Home Alone 2. This is basically the look I got from police, which I understand.

And in the “you can’t make this stuff up” department, the officers told me the answer to my problems was an auto body shop right behind their building and they could fix me up.

I guess I let out a sigh of relief and was on my way again. What a morning.

The final drive of this journey was to the auto shop. A guy turned it off, the engine whimpering to a stop.

This madcap journey was done. I could come get the car in a day or two, but for now there was nothing else to do.

I walked home and went back to bed and slept the hardest I ever have. And this time, when I woke up later, I didn’t go to the window and check for my car.

---

According to the National Insurance Crime Bureau, the Honda Accord was stolen close to 60,000 times in 2012. 

"Year after year, the Honda Accord continues to be a top seller at car dealerships throughout the United States for a variety of reasons, including their reliability," said Patrick Clancy, the vice president of law enforcement for LoJack Corporation, in this story. "That means year after year there are more Accords on the road, getting into car accidents or needing parts for repair."

I don’t know how many of those Accords that were stolen eventually found their way back to their owner. I don’t know if I’m the only person ever to steal back their Accord; I’m sure I’m not, but it’s nice to think I’m the lone automotive cowboy who performed a stunning act of righteousness.

I managed to keep that car for at least two more years before returning back to my family in South Carolina. In the end, my parents helped me get a new ignition in the car and return it to form. When I moved near New York, it no longer became necessary to have a car all that much, and I said goodbye once and for all. I believe after years and years, my family donated it to a charity or sold it off for parts, but I’m not entirely sure.

But that car was a trooper and the two of us bonded in a way I never have with a piece of machinery. I’ll think of it forever and ever. I never found out who stole it, of course, but I guess I should thank them now because I get to tell this tale.

Thanks folks.

Godspeed 1994 Gold Honda Accord, wherever you are. I hope you are resting easy. Thanks for the memories.

Reopening Report Outdoor Brunch At Brunswick East added to Google Docs

Reopening Report Outdoor Brunch At Brunswick East

July 9th, 2020

We’ve missed brunch. There, we said. You can laugh if you like. You can put a burning bag of avocados through our letter box if you really want to. But you know what? We have no shame. Brunch is great. Hungover brunch is even better. And hungover brunch outside in the sun after not having brunch for what felt like a million years? It was, maybe, the best brunch of all.

THE REPORT

Name:

Brunswick East.

Location:

Dalston.

What we’ve said before:

Nothing. Zilch. Nada. We’ve been meaning to go, but it’s never happened. Until now. Or rather, the other day.

So, how was it?

Mirage-like. As we approached the courtyard we weren’t entirely sure if what we saw in front of us was real.

What do you mean?

Was this a sourdough we saw before us? The harissa butter towards my hand? Come, let us crunch thee.

Wow.

Sorry.

Anyway, what was the set-up like?

Very reassuring. Names were taken, hands sanitized, and phones wiped, all before we sat down. We were also directed towards glasses and cutlery to take to our own table. Which, incidentally, were all nicely spaced out.

And how about the food?

Well after much deliberation, phone swiping (the menu is on their website), shameless staring at the situations on adjacent tables, we settled on folded eggs.

Folded? Eggs?

Folded. Eggs.

 Jake Missing

Tell. Me. More.

We thought you’d never ask. They’re a sort of whirlpool of eggs. Swirling waves of orange and yellow, peppered with, well, pepper. They’re not scrambled, but they’re not an omelette either. A rare lovechild of the two, like the pizzly bear, only it’s brunch food, not a rare hybrid bear.

Good?

Soft, creamy, and a solid plateful - they were put away in one fell swoop. Forget Macduff, think McMuff.

Please, no more Shakespeare.

Sorry.

But do go on.

Really nice. Really really nice. The special: wild garlic folded eggs, topped with feta and crispy kale, on Brunswick’s miso and sesame sourdough, was delicious. Made better by our somewhat excessive (but also completely necessary) additions.

Which were?

Smoked belly bacon, and heritage tomatoes. We regret nothing. We’d also recommend a little pot of homemade chilli jam on the side.

Nice. Can I book? Should I book?

You can and you probably should, only if you’re comfortable eating out of course.

Sure. Any other tips?

Just to tip, healthily.

Do you have thoughts or questions about dining in London right now? Give us a shout. Email us at [email protected].

Sorry—looks like you screwed up that email address

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The Story of Saturn - Chapter 2 Part 4

We had both landed fairly solid hits on each other. He had gotten me pretty good with that knee shot on the chest, and I got him pretty good, too. He circled around me again. I was ready. That first salvo was a good idea what I was up against, so I didn't give him much of a chance to say or do much, I rushed him. Sad to say, it wasn't the best call I've made. As soon as I made contact with a punch to his face, everything around us changed.

He teleported us to some deserted island. But it wasn't just some ordinary island, we were in front of the ruins of a burnt house and a part of the forest near that same house also had been burnt down, some time ago. I wondered why he took us here. Was this is his plan all along? Use our fight as an escape plan? That couldn't be the case... surely he had other plans...

"What are we doing here? Why did you bring us here?" I asked.

"I have a job to do, rookie... This is where you are fighting your last fight. Shame. You seemed like a promising soldier... At least from what I'd heard."

[Saturn Eni, reporting. Have been teleported with escaped prisoner to some deserted island... Engaging the target. Using lethal method...]

-------------------------------------------------------

He had been there for the past day or two. He never really understood why this place had been burnt down so he went and checked it out. Besides, it was the best excuse to get away from his companion. Maybe one day she'd find an indoor voice, but so far, when she forgets about that for a moment... massive headache for him. But for now, he wanted answers of his own. Hey... good info was a good thing to trade, wasn't it? But this time, something caught his attention. Someone arrived. "Good lord... Better not be her..." he said as he turned around to go check.

What he saw... surprised him a bit. He sat and looked up a bit. [Hey... I'm going to show you something, know anything about it?] he sent to his recipient. A response came quick, didn't seem too pleased either.

[What is a rookie doing against HIM? Had I known--Wait... you're on sight?]

[Yep. What do you think I should do?]

That rookie, that... Saturn he had heard from Hunwick Puma, and Blink. This was interesting to the onlooker. While he waited for his response, they charged each other and exchanged shots at each other. It made him smirk.

[For now stay on the side line, intervene if our rookie needs immediate assistance. If YOU need some, you know what to do.]

[Copy that. Jackal out.] He smirked. The two fighters were trading everything they had. Both were taking damage. The rookie had taken a few good claw hits on the chest. Those were going to leave marks Saturn would remember. "Not bad... he's capable..." Jackal thought. But he stayed put. He watched. After all, a dinner and a show. What more can a jackal like him ask, right?

[Hey, Hunwick...] He then attempted, smirking to himself. Saturn was seen tossing an bomb at Blink Puma. The timing was such that it struck right after a teleport. The puma fell on his back and took some time to gather himself up. [The rookie's actually got a fighting chance against your brother... Want me to let you interfere, or... Cause I'm on site.]

A long sigh came in the comm, Jackal grimaced a bit. Did he let his amusement at the situation get the better of his judgement?

[The kid's got this? If he kills Craig, just...] another pause, [Just leave him there. I don't know that Mirage wants to bury his ass twice in a lifetime, when you think about it. But yeah... If the kid needs help, you got this, I'm sure. Don't you eat dead dudes anyway? Lunch's on the house.]

[Got it... If he does kill him... Sorry. Or whatever you say to a relative...] He closed the communication before his chuckle made it through. For him, it was kind of a feat to be able you saw someone die twice. Or heard of, it was all the same, after all. Wasn't it?

Saturn seemed to have the advantage, his attacks were causing more and more visible damage, but Blink Puma wasn't a foolish fighter. The main target, the scorpion that provided power to his broken core, was always protected. Taking a clear shot at it was going to be diffiult. Blink made certain of it. The jackal, from his vantage point, just kept on watching. He shook his head, that Saturn sure was going all out all the time. Jackal shook his head. "Rookie mistakes... At least this kid's loaded with energy... that helps his case." he said to himself. "Better get closer, looks like I'm gonna have to attack, anyway..."

It took him several minutes to get to the fight, and he regreted having moved. Blink had his claws deep in Saturn's body and Saturn had apparently launched an energy attack that destroyed the scorpion that gave him power to exist. There was no exchange of words. Blink Puma fell, dead once again, a limp mass of scrap on the ground. Oddly enough, there was nothing past the neck on Saturn's side. Was the body just a suit? Interesting. After a few looks around, Jackal saw the little dragon-bot, trying to crawl to his body. He went over. "Hey... can you reach your body or do I have to finish you off?"

The little dragon snickered, weakly. "I can make it... How's that dog girl?"

"Let me check with base..."

[Medic, this is Plague Jackal. Heard Auzer got involved in this fight with the Puma. She alright?]

The response was immediate. [Well, all I know is the rookie knocked her out, maybe to hinder Blink... How's the fight going?]

[Not making a report in place of the rookie. But send some help. I can't carry people... I have a report to go give to MY own boss, now.]

"Yeah she's fine. You just got her out cold. Help's on the way... I gotta tell you, rookie... You're not bad... This'll get you noticed."

After that? The jackal went back to what he was doing, inside the house. Soon enough, he knew, the rookie was going to be transported away.

End of Chapter 2

Do you get stuck the work-eat-entertainment-sleep-kiss-dark-tyrant-ass cycle as life? No I’m delivering a bridge just like our china traditional great saints to save world.

*** *** ***

“Student”(solar): “ I’m doing nothing right now and it’s all illusion, Maya, mirage.. *** *** *** "Master"（Mr. Bean）:“ My dear solar, You can say you’re doing nothing. And maybe you are doing nothing, but we want you to notice the difference between being and being and being a doing, I’m a human being not a human doing. So doing nothing it’s just fine, being consciously aware of what you are offering vibrationally, being aware of what you’re emanating, being aware that the vibrational relationship between the vibration of your inner being, who is pure vibration with no resistance, and where you are in relationship to that. *** *** *** Before you can be allowed into systems of reality that are more extensive and open, you must first learn to handle energy, and see, through physical materialization, the concrete result of thought and emotion. As a forms mud pies from dirt, so you form your civilizationout of thoughts and emotions, and then see what you have created, and you must deal with it on its terms. Seth (Jane Roberts), The Early Sessions , Book9, Session 446. *** *** *** There have a true story, happen in Taiwan. Once upon a time, there is a lady asking a master, …: Lady ask: “Master, several days ago, I see my husband in the bed with another women... make love, how can I do about it? *** *** ***  The master answer:  “Lady,... just tell yourself it illusion, Maya, mirage.”; “Lady,... just tell yourself it your eyes have bad karma, so you see your husband in the bed with others women make love ….><!!!” *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** And this why???  In the east, there are so many enlightened masters that have passed away, but the mankind history still repeat it, and generation after generation, keep regurgitating what-is thousands of years, ~~~><!!! *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** A wife came home early and found her husband with another woman.  His story just is one in a million. *** But why the mankind history still repeat it, and generation after generation, keep regurgitating what-is thousands of years???  Why? Why? Why?  *** *** ***  Do you want tell the lady…: “Lady,... just tell yourself it illusion, Maya, mirage.”; *** Does any of those people (your husband ) truly exist (objectively out there) when you stop remembering and conjuring them in this moment inside you ??? *** *** ***  Do you want tell the peoples…: North Korea does not exist, North Korea launches missiles is illusion, Maya, mirage. *** Does any of those dark tyranny rulers (North Korea ) truly exist (objectively out there) when you stop remembering and conjuring them in this moment inside you ??? *** *** ***  In this world, something you will never true understanding it, until the same challange, same situation happen on you and you must face it, deal with it. *** In this world, “word”(language) no teaching, life itself teaching you, because, …: *** Everyone tells you what to do and what’s good for you.  They don’t want you to find your own answers.  They what you to believe theirs. ~Socrates *** *** *** The simple believeth every word: but the prudent man looketh well to his going. 愚蒙人是話都信，智慧通達者步步審慎。 ～Proverbs 14:15 King James Bible *** *** *** Just don’t sloppy what you are pick up as “me; mine; myself” & “real; true”. *** *** *** Some People Will Like You If You Fit Their Box, Don’t Be Afraid To Shove That Box Up Their Ass. *** *** *** When they call you loyalty, great service saints, great obey “solider”(children; woman), make sure you don’t kiss dark tyrant ass. *** *** *** People say, "Oh you're so selfish. You're pleasing you." And what they mean is "You should please me." You're selfish because you please you - and I'm not selfish because I think you should please me instead of you? There's some screwy reasoning going on. And every time it matters to you to please them instead of you, oh it's such short-term gain, such short-term gain. ~Abraham-Hicks, San Diego, CA, 9.19.09 *** *** *** When we fully embody both our darkness and our light, We are no longer obedient, and vulnerable to the predator. *** *** *** At your absolute best, you still won't be good enough for the wrong-kiss-ass person. At your worst, you'll still be worth it to the right-alignment-deliberate person. *** *** *** When they call you loyalty, great service saints, great obey “solider”(children; woman), make sure you don’t kiss dark tyrant ass. *** *** *** You must learn to deal with your own beliefs directly or you will be forced to deal with them indirectly - by reacting to them quite without knowing it in your physical experience. - Seth The Nature of Personal Reality *** *** *** If you were a sloppier creator,  it would have come to you faster. But because you’re picky in your Vortex,  you’re picky about what you want,  and it’s not going to come to you before you’re ready for it when it comes. And getting ready for it when it comes – that’s the best part of life. That is the sweet spot:  getting yourself ready for what you’re rendezvousing with,  because if you rendezvoused with what you’re not ready for, you wouldn’t like it. ~ Abraham-Hicks ~ *** *** *** Be a master of reality, so don't recycle your kiss dark tyrant ruler’s ass history, otherwise don't tell me you are enlightenment *** *** *** Who is lucky one who can don't recycle their kiss dark tyrant ruler’s ass history, in every area??? *** *** *** Detox your timeline, your page, your home, your refrigerator, under your counters, your closet, your ride, your phone, your life & mindset  *** *** *** Connection doesn't care about the laws of he land.  Your soul will be pulled to the place it belongs.  *** *** *** People not Addicted To Alcohol Or Drugs, They Are Addicted To Those Disconnect Given Rules, use different name, fight each other. *** *** *** They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it, they feel like you're trying to steal their most precious possession. -Jim Morrison *** *** *** As Soon As You're Born You Are Given A Username, A Religion/Morality, A Nationality And A Race. You Spend The Rest Of Your Life Defending A  Fictional Identity.  *** *** *** At your absolute best, you still won't be good enough for the wrong-kiss-ass person. At your worst, you'll still be worth it to the right-alignment-deliberate person. *** *** *** People can only meet you, as deep as they've met themselves  *** *** *** People all over the world are searching for a deep connection with someone.  Only a few are searching for a deep connection with themselves  *** *** *** Human is the one who recycle their kiss dark tyrant ruler’s ass history and has a miserable life and then a miserable death, and then croaks. In other words, it is human that does that to himself. *** *** *** What fascinates fascinates me is that...  Hardly anyone is wondering what we're doing on this planet.  Most people have accepted the work-eat-entertainment-sleep-kiss ass-cycle and have no desire to have a deeper understanding of life *** *** *** When they call you loyalty, great service saints, great obey “solider”(children; woman), make sure you don’t kiss dark tyrant ass. *** *** *** "If you end up with a boring, miserable kiss-dark-tyrant-ruler’s-ass-life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, than you deserve it." *** *** *** Connection doesn’t care about the laws of the land.  Your soul/heart will be pulled to the place it belongs. *** *** *** We do ourselves a tremendous favor by letting go of the people who poison our spirit. *** *** *** Who/what poison our spirit?  Those preach/teach kiss dark tyrant ruler's ass religion/moral/political *** *** *** Unchain yourself from your kiss-dark-tyrant-ruler's-ass-mindset by as an alignment deliberate creator. No matter of what kind of area/topic...^^ *** *** *** Why really is rare?  Because don't preach/teach kiss dark tyrant ruler's ass religion/moral/political is very rare *** *** *** Looking for truth? Observe people's habitual behavior patterns/cycles.  The truth is in their patterns and cycles.  Not so much their word *** *** *** The Mind Is A Powerful Force. It Can Enslave Us Or Empower Us. It Can Plunge Us Into The Depths Of Misery Or Take Us To The Heights Of Ecstasy. Learn To Use The Power Wisely. *** *** ***

當其它人盲目追隨"真理"（君王以己出經式的欺德）之刻，記住，萬物皆虛妄！ 當其它人被"道德和法律"（君王以己出經式的欺德）束縛之刻，記住，萬事皆允可！ 道生法；道生智，悟性歸於大道！

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