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moonlightjongin · 2 years

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Storge (Jongin’s Series Of Love)

♡ Pairing -- Kim Jongin x Reader ♡ Genre -- Supernatural, Fluff, Angst ♡ AUs -- Guardian Angel!AU, Heaven!AU ♡ Description -- (concept) ‘Storge’ is the Greek word for the natural affection people feel for those closest to them. Storge is a love that exists between parents and their children but can go beyond this, storge can also be displayed in companions, and exceptionally close friends. It is said that storge is a casual form of love usually based in memories; storge is an underlying love driven by the desire to compassionately care for another. (summary) ...Your Guardian Angel Jongin, who has been guiding you from afar all this while, hopes with everything in him that he’s done a good job with that, vowing to continue doing so as you take upon yourself a very new challenge, working alongside him in the realms of aether. ♡ Wordcount -- 11,414 words. ♡ Warnings -- Non-descriptive mentions of dying, descriptions of grief, blood/injuries. ♡ A/N -- Feedback is very welcome and very appreciated. ♡

Main Masterlist || Series Of Love Masterlist || 🏹 also in the series... Storge (familial love; natural affection). Philautia (self love). Philia (platonic love; the love of friendship). Ludus (playful love; uncommitted love). Pragma (enduring love; practical love). Eros (passionate, sensual love). Agape (unconditional love). Mania (obsessive love).

When Jongin first lay his eyes on you, they had brimmed with tears yet to spill, a warmth coursing through him that threatened to engulf each atom of his being. The most gentle smile graced his lips as he watched you grip your mother's finger with your tiny hand, placing his own, much larger hand against his chest. He proceeded to exhale one deep, heavy breath, the tenderness of the moment having been too much for him to take in that the thoughtlessly effortless and wholly necessary function of being -- breath -- felt like it were suddenly a world away, entirely out of reach.

Like you. Though separated by several dimensions, realms and perceptions, in that moment Jongin had wanted nothing more than to whisk you up into his own arms and cradle you gently to his chest, rock you back and forth until the confusion and unrivalled chaos of coming into existence settled.

He'd heard numerous tales of the intensity of the moment, every Guardian Angel had. Of the honor of being assigned one's very own human to watch over, protect and guide to the best of their ability. But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer gush of love and amazement he'd felt as it truly dawned on him, that finally, after all the years of preparation and intensive training, he had you.

As much as he'd assisted and offered humanity a helping hand in guidance over the course of his own existence, he was finally taking his very first step into fulfilling the sole purpose he had as a Guardian Angel.

True as it were that he didn't know all there was to know about you and had, still, a long journey ahead with you, it was as if the previous woes of separation that had been dragging him into a deep pit of anxiety and despair whenever he'd overhear a fellow Guardian Angel gush about their Human -- as if the awful, nagging question of when hadn't already been creeping into his own thoughts during the nondescript, menial tasks of his day as it were -- when would he be allocated his own human to watch over, when would he be allowed onto the most defining chapter and journey of his existence, all but washed away.

The timing must've been divine, because it led him to being assigned you.

And truly, even though he had much to learn about you, much to learn through you, still, he already knew he wouldn't exchange you for the world.

With the intensity of the feeling coming onto him this strongly, already, the joy and pride burning through him, singeing itself into his very bones, he wondered if this first encounter with you would be the peak emotionality of the experience, if from this moment forward, his emotions would settle into a feeling much more contained, calm, like the lapping waves of the deepest, wisest ocean against its much cherished shorelines; perhaps in a manner of knowing similar to the way his wings would flutter against his shoulder blades with such natural ease, the internal process having ingrained itself into his very essence after a lifetime of being directed on how to do so by Jongin himself.

Until the next day hit. Then the next month. And endlessly he'd find himself bathing in a feeling of such pride, of the most gentle affection and adoration, an unfathomable joy every time you so much as blinked, or made a movement that showcased your awareness of your existence to your parents -- who, as he'd observed -- were quite the turbulent pair within the vicinity of each other, which all but seemed to dissolve when their eyes fell onto you, the apple of their eyes, the highlight of their day.

He was a sobbing mess when you said your first word, when you took your first step. He'd never had the best control over his emotions, which was something his fellow angels would chuckle at and tease him about from time to time, telling him he'd been cut from a much more sensitive end of the cloth than they had, but he surely hadn't cried as much in all his years as he did the first few years of your life. ...And this was only from the joys of the experience.

He daren't even contemplate the fabled sadness that humanity had also been blessed, or perhaps cursed with. Time was vastly different for the two of you, the distance between your realms wasn't quantifiable in human terms and an absolute impossibility for you to breach on your end, one with a catch on his own. Though he could visit you, he'd never be able to be visible to you, unless you well and truly believed in him and could sense his presence. Guardian Angels were told to not get their expectations and hopes up about that because humans mostly called upon their Guardian Angels in times of desperation and grief.

In the vast majority of cases it was a feeble and half-hearted call at that, and as humanity had never been taught that there exist definite connections such as this -- that of a human and their Guardian Angel -- they never viewed it as a possibility for themselves, besides being a last resort in reference of what they believed to be a religious fable or fairy tale that evidently had no true basis in reality.

Guardian Angels were fiercely warned about the repercussions of causing such stress in humans, just so they could interact face to face with their human or humans in general, and it could result in them losing both their connection to their human and their status as a Guardian Angel.

Jongin was coming to you from a place of utmost care, protection and devotion, he felt, so he would never do anything to place you in harms way, jeopardize your bond, nor did he ever want to see you sad. He'd been told to prepare himself for it, because the human sphere of emotion was truly volatile at the best of times and the vast majority of humans would go on to face many ups and downs during their time on the earthly plane, but even so, he knew he would find ways to comfort you from afar and lend a helping hand in any form he, as your Guardian Angel, had been allocated and allowed.

The earliest months of your youth passed smoothly and to Jongin, you were a blissful assignment, so full of joy and wonderment about the world around you, that the thoughts of any sad times you may have been on the path to encounter slipped to the very backs of his mind.

Until that changed in one swift moment at eight months old, as your mother stormed into your room in a haphazard disarray, mascara lining her cheeks, screaming obscenities at your father in the living room, as she pulled you from your crib, disturbing you into a startled cry in an instant, and marched back to face your father head on. Knowing all he could do to protect you in this moment in time was to wrap you in a sheen of protective, healing light and energy, Jongin watched with bated breath as your own cries eventually lessened, however, he had no way of telling you how your world was about to change, and neither did your parents, you were in no way able to understand the severity of the situation. Frankly, neither was Jongin.

It was a bitingly cold, bitter blue morning when your mother pulled up at the airport, and an even colder night, clouds heavy with rain, when you arrived in Paris, completely unaware this journey had been a one-way trip, for the both of you. Your mother had met someone months prior, a Parisian man of much renown, and before they even realized what was hitting them, sparks flew, and in their lovestruck daze, your mother accepted this man's advances behind your father's back, delighting in the excitement he brought to her difficult circumstances, her failing marriage.

Through his rage and hatred, which Jongin felt viscerally and had to carefully view as to not singe himself, your father demanded you be left with him if your mother preferred to ‘gallivant around Paris with her new lover’, mouth poisoned with the most vicious of insults, telling her she'd destroyed the sanctity of marriage. To which she replied, bitterly, "wherever had it ever been, with you?". Neither cried, as behind the rage and resentment, they felt a wave of relief and ease wash over them, realizing they had freed themselves from the shackles of unhappiness they were currently causing themselves, even if the method of doing so held the many immoral tenets it did.

But you were a different topic to them, entirely. A bitter, relentless battle. They would go on to spend years vying for sole custody of you, years vying to tie you solely to either Korea or France, your father losing sleep over it, nearly falling into debt because of it. Though you'd flitted between both countries like a homeless butterfly during this, the court eventually ruled in your mother's favor, perhaps because of her lover's influence and seemingly ever increasing bank balance, but that didn't mean you never got to see your biological father again. Some summer and winter breaks were spent in Korea. There was also this fascinating invention called a smartphone that allowed you two to videocall as often as you could.

Eventually, your father moved on, as well, with a kind-hearted, gentle lady who would treat you with nothing but respect, though still wearied of overstepping any boundaries. Unlike on your mother's end, no half-siblings were added into the equation through your father's newfound love.

Settling in took a bit of getting used to, at first. You worked hard at your French, practising most often through your stepfather; a lean, well put together man, who offered you day trips and homemade bread dipped in the finest of olive oils, and would eventually go on to buy you a grand piano, which had been your first love, prior to meeting your soul mate in the violin.

He was insanely musically inclined himself, and picked up on your talents early, something you feel eternally grateful for. And as initially awkward as the relationship had been, you began to find a solace in your stepfather, in his ability to stop arguments before they stewed and simmered and boiled over into something much greater than they were destined. He treated you as equally he did the children he'd go on to parent with your mother, considering you one of them. That wasn't as easy for you, considering you loved your biological father as much as you loved your mother, and you would only get to see him a few times a year in person, but eventually you grew fond of having two fathers, so to speak. It was especially fun having siblings, and not being the only child, any longer.

The first seed of confusion was planted within you, when your mother crouched beside your bed on the evening of a stormy Thursday night in June, sobbing, as she proceeded to tell you just how much she wished she had've met your stepfather first. You pretended to be asleep, your back towards her. She didn't see how your brows furrowed softly, as she'd then go on to tell you how you were her only saving grace but the shame ate her within, how your grandmother wanted nothing to do with her after the divorce. The fact she had children with two men. But she made it clear that night that if she had the choice between the two, your father and your stepfather, she'd have chosen your stepfather. It confused you because where would that place you on this spectrum? She didn't specify besides letting you know she loved you and she'd never regret you. But if she could, would she want you to be borne to your stepfather too? You tried not to think too hard about it. Tried not to wonder if your father felt the same, but with his new partner.

The reason behind your first time crying yourself to sleep was because of school. The even more confusing, terrifying realization that now, in this entirely new country, nobody looked like you, nobody sounded like you, nobody ate the same foods you did, a situation you initially thought was a point of celebration, how within you existed a vast piece of knowing of another part of the world, the unification of cultures and experiences, but not everyone seemed to agree with that. And though you did as much as you could to avoid these people's harsh, pointed gazes, it seemed like they'd find a new difference to point out everyday, until you hid the depth of your heritage behind their own, and didn't bring it up in conversation unless it was brought up first, which tore into your spirit and cracked your heart greatly.

Be it only a select few who acted this way with you, Jongin would still watch on everyday, painstakingly wishing he could just intervene, show you that you didn't have to take this treatment from anyone, ever. He knew some experiences and findings were your own to discover, but that didn't stop him from intervening as slyly and delicately as he could, such as blowing the main perpetrator's completed homework sheet out of his binder and ensuring it fell far away and that it happened gently enough to not alert him. He saw your own eyes flit to it for a second, and usually you'd react, likely hand it back to the person regardless of how they'd been treating you, but this time you blinked, a moment's movement, and decided not to.

Which was good enough for Jongin. Minor instances like this would persist any time the main perpetrator acted up and though he would still sneer at you from time to time, his acts of violence stopped flat when the mother of a fellow student told his mother about the way her son had been terrorizing his classes, how he'd been terrorizing fellow students, her own child included. Seemingly, his mother's grounding of him paired with her taking away his prized possessions and making him write a hand written apology to each and every student he'd tormented as well as having to read it in front of the class to them, seemed to do the trick.

You'd long since lost interest in any of that, however, having found yourself in the music room in your spare time, drinking up each and every note, learning everything you could. By this point, your French had improved to the point you were finally contemplating calling yourself bilingual, but music was a language within itself, and you were starting to realize your fluency in it came before any spoken tongue, as much love as you had for both Korean and French at this stage. Music... felt freeing. Like an adventure and home all in one. A safe sanctuary and a push outside of your comfort zone all the same.

Jongin watched every moment, every fear, frustration, woe and setback on your path to becoming the renowned and famed violinist you now are, experiencing all these emotions alongside you, crying with you, worrying with you. He watched every triumph, celebration and gleeful cause of enjoyment also, celebrating alongside you, even though you couldn't see him. Sometimes he felt sure you could at least feel him.

And how proud of you he was. How proud of you he'd always be.

Jongin's fingers thread through his hair as he lets out one, long exhale. The outward breath releasing all the stresses of his day, however minor they may have been in the grand scheme of things. He straightens his posture as he gently rolls up his daily task scroll, watching the enchanted piece of parchment glisten as he does so, the neat, cursive lettering slowly disappearing within itself as he ties a bow over it and brushes it off to his side. His days are jam-packed from the moment he awakens from his 'rest', though not at all necessary for his kind, it certainly helps to quicken any necessary healing process, prevent fatigue and reinforce routine.

Today had been a much lighter workload than usual, and he wonders if he's been allocated some semblance of free time to simply enjoy this defining moment of your life. Your first broadcasted concert, nationwide. In a venue you'd thought you'd only ever dream of performing in.

Strangely, despite how huge today is for you, he feels peaceful, oddly serene. You'll do well, he feels so within every fibre of his being.

Truthfully, as much as he'd convinced himself he'd been prepared for this, for everything it would entail to take on his duty as a Guardian Angel, he had, for a long time, dismayed of this -- of watching over someone who would never know of him or his existence, never feel his presence, never engage in conversation with him, but over the years, the feeling simply simmered into something else, shifted into a much gentler, warmer understanding, unconditional in its marker.

As much as he would still love to be able to openly converse with you, give you a warm helping -- corporeal -- hand whenever you needed it and remind you that within you existed all you needed to achieve all you had ever wanted, the truth was, you didn't have to know him, openly call to him and rely on him for your bond to legitimately feel as real, corporeal, precious and necessary as it was.

Sure, the bittersweet element would always exist, but everyday, his heart swells with joy and pride from simply knowing you, from having been entrusted with the honor of being your Guardian Angel. He hears of it often, hears fellow Guardian Angels sing the praises of their humans from the highest corners of the heavens, witnesses the jovial steps a Guardian Angel will take when they've finished their daily contact with their human, hears it in lulling wisp of their words, however soft, it's hard to miss the protective layer these words will be wrapped in; the innate knowledge that if a Guardian Angel had a life to give, there lay no doubt that they would give it to ensure the safety of their human in a mere heartbeat.

Truly, through all of this, Jongin feels he's lucked out with you.

Jongin leaves his work desk and decides to dress for the day ahead, slipping into a sheer, glittering pink ensemble, a lot freer than his usual attire, though still as outwardly ethereal. By the time he's ready, considering the intricacy of angelic clothing, with all of its buttons and laces, you will be thirty minutes away from pulling up at your destination. Though extensively separated, the nerves and excitement bubbling within you are also washing off on him, though he feels that the excitement outweighs the nervousness in this case. You'll do so well, he knows it. Today will be unlike any other, it will be a night to remember. The day, the evening, the night everything you've worked so hard for becomes yours.

He'll watch every second of it, he's vowed to. But just as he's about to finish buttoning his much too intricate shirt, a flash of light catches his attention, which makes him look away for a split second. Thinking nothing of it, he turns back to his table, glancing down at his most frequented corner of the only world he's ever known.

Before a silence washes over the room. Though everything looks as it should, there's been a stark change in the atmosphere. There's nothing to be heard, except for the even sound of his breath, nothing to feel but the suddenly deafening thunder of his own heartbeat. When it hits him hard and all at once how unusual this silence is, he only just picks up on how dark his surroundings are becoming, how they're beginning to blur into each other like they were never separated to begin with, before it all fades to black.

"What--?" He starts, upon reawakening, before a harrowing realization hits. This wasn't normal.

"No," Jongin chokes out. "No, no, no. That can't be." But he can't hear you, can't sense you and certainly can't see you right now. It's a mere ten minutes until your performance if his calculations are correct, and yet here he is, still not ready, presently having no idea what it is that is happening in his realm. Power outages were extremely infrequent, infrequent enough that a guardian angel could be taken aback by the unusualness of them, but why now? Why today, on the most important, defining moment of your life?

Jongin's thoughts are running wild, a frenzied energy overwhelms him as he contemplates what's happening. Why can't he move? Why is this ever deepening darkness swallowing him whole, why is the world he knows blurring within itself and most importantly... where are you?

Finally, realization hits.

In a wave that threatens to engulf the entirety of his being whole. The entirety of heaven's being, he feels.

He hears the sound before he truly understands what is happening, hears the glass shattering like it's right there in front of him digging into his own features and clawing away at his own flesh, hears the cheers of the fans you've accumulated over the years silencing, before they become shrill gasps and pained cries and screams, hears the sound of hundreds if not thousands of cameras clicking before they also fizzle out into the stark understanding and realization that something isn't right.

...Then it's chaos.

The sound of you being rushed to the hospital, of your mother's, stepfather and half-siblings' sobs and screams. Doctors and nurses pleading with them, telling them that they'd do all they could, just to, please, please let them work.

"A drunk driver," the nurse eventually whispers, though Jongin swore he hadn't missed a moment, the nurse's words are what break through the debilitating wave of agony that's drowned him, seemingly muted everything around him. Though her tone is stable, trained, she knows of you, she knew what day this was for you, it's a blatantly harrowing statement for her to make, but that knowledge doesn't comfort Jongin. "I'm sorry."

No one. No one, between land nor sea, no one was expecting this. And especially not Jongin. The room of imprisonment is in a disarray, his arms are thick, wet with the blood he's somehow managed to etch and tear out of his supposedly unbreakable vessel in the hopes of identifying and locating the exit of this blatant room of imprisonment he's been forced into. And it'll continue; he'll force and tear his way out of any forceful holding that his higher ups try and keep him in if it continues to mean no news of what's happening with and to you, where, how and what will come next of it.

Caring little that his arms are lined with self inflicted etchings, dismissing a pain that begins to seep its way through him that he can't remember feeling for at least several millennia, knowing it can't even begin to compare to what you just went through. How you didn't even arrive to the biggest show of your life, the turning point of your career, the day that defined the rest of your life -- your entire future.

Gone, in an instant. Head on in a collision no one saw coming. Not even your Guardian Angel, who prided himself on his knowing of all things you.

He catches his frazzled reflection in the long, windy mirror in front of him and screams, a fraction of a second passing before the mirror itself shatters into a thousand pieces before him. He contemplates picking up one of the shards and carving his way out of the room of holding, but before he even has chance the glass morphs and moulds into a fine, sand-like substance, disappearing in between the space of his toes.

Finally, comes a knock. Minutes, hours, days, had they passed? He doesn't know. The silence outside of his inner and outer turmoil has persisted, his thundering heartbeat and deafening sobs serving as the only indicator of the time between.

"Jongin?"

"Leave me," he chokes. Simply sitting. Blatantly the room of holding had different laws than both heaven and earth, it seemed to be a room of his own making, a room he could change the dimensions of just by the depth of his feeling, his agony. So something as simple as sitting should be fine, should it not?

Not that he'd cared if the ground swallowed him whole either, at the present moment in time. Maybe any moment from here on out.

When he can taper into the connection you share -- fuzzy, muted and agonizing as it currently is, he watches the world mourn, but he feels it pales in comparison to his own grief, the unfamiliar feeling of sentience, self hatred, anger. An anger that burrows deep and cements itself inside him, demands to be felt. He screams, cries and kicks for all his might, but it won't change what happened to you. It won't allow him to live the day over and do everything in and outside of his power to bring you back. Here he was, as your Guardian Angel, and yet even he couldn't protect you, stop this atrocious crash from taking place?

The room shifts again, but Jongin doesn't bother to take any note of its changes until lights are pushing through his self inflicted darkness and blinding him. He curls into a ball, but refuses to close his eyes, not caring about the damage these lights may cause him, preferring the blindness to be his, if it comes to that, than yours. If there were a way to exchange his eyes for yours, his internal processes for your own, his own beating heart for yours, there wouldn't even be a question.

You'd be here right now. Alive.

What would heaven expect of him now? How dare they?

Moments, hours, days, it's one of the three, he knows that much, but he's done with pretending he cares to differentiate right now or ever again. There's a creasing, crinkling sound, akin to the sound of movement, albeit angelic.

The being places itself beside Jongin, who refuses to look up, caring not about the consequences right now. If ever again. What did any of it mean, anymore? What did any of it matter, without you, his sole purpose for existing, the one being above all else he had to keep safe and protect... gone in a instant. How could anyone look him in the eye again, if he were so useless as to not be able to predict this when he had the encyclopedia of all things you tucked away in his shirt's pocket, embedded into his own, horribly, selfishly beating heart.

Yours wouldn't beat again, would it?

Finally, after what must feel like an eternity to the being, but can't possibly compete with the eternity of agony Jongin's going through, he forces his head upwards meeting eyes with a messenger-in-training, a small, fluttery being, clad in blue-white robes. Their expression indiscernible, yet seemingly prepared for an outburst.

He hoped they wouldn't get one and he'd apologize in advance, but he had no notebook of heavenly principles and elements to follow in a situation like this, no guidebook on how to react when his sole reason for being had been taken from him with no warning.

Instead, a millennia's knowledge on how to be a good soldier, how to have emotion but not too much, an innate agonizing realization of how he'll more than likely be expected to report back to his desk and record everything after the period of grief heaven's so 'graciously' granting him ends. Somehow be expected to continue existing without you.

How?

"It was not just her," the messenger-in-training cuts straight to the point, their body language telling him they're not here for a fight, and are genuinely hoping not to have to go on the defensive, and simply here to deliver the message. "That is why you could not interfere."

And blatantly why he'd been so at ease, having had his senses numbed so he couldn't pick up on any change in the atmosphere, sense this collision prior to it taking place.

Jongin says nothing. Jongin doesn't move. He's not sure where he is or even how this place exists, but suspended space or not, he's managed to convince himself it's a room, that there's a floor, objects, glaring overhead lights, that currently he's sitting, and the patch of ground his eyes are honed in on is truly, somehow there. The mirror's gone, but that had been there, too. So had you, once.

"Understandably you wish for me to leave you be, but--" The messenger-in-training won't meet Jongin's gaze directly. "I must inform you."

Five minutes pass. Jongin says nothing.

"Will you speak?" The messenger-in-training asks. "Is there anything you wish to ask?"

It's at this moment the messenger-in-training notices the trail of blood that surrounds their own higher up, which results in a wince. They say nothing, but the miniscule moment doesn't go amiss to Jongin. How he wished for the messenger's naivety at this moment, their lack of understanding of a bond like this. Just bright hope for their future journey and development. Their eternity. Turn back, the grief within him wants to scream. Ask for another journey, another placement within heaven. This is your future.

But he can't. He can't because he knows that he'd exchange everything if it meant having you to watch over, again. How could he knock this naive present day messenger away from the most defining aspect of their existence, the one thing a Guardian Angel desires and hopes for above all else? Even if this present moment in time feels like a slow, torturous death of the most unspeakable kind, still, nothing in heaven compares to the bond you share, nothing in heaven can compete. Nothing in heaven could ever hope to compete. Perhaps that's why he stays silent.

"...And what happens now?"

"I though you would never ask." The messenger-in-training smiles here, a smile Jongin can't even begin to comprehend. His fellow Guardian Angels used to say he never stopped. Smiling, that is. Now he wonders if he'll ever smile again. "It is the most unusual happening, sire. Y/N..."

Jongin winces at the use of your name. Deeper than the messenger-in-training had prior. He wills himself not to fall apart, crumble into sand like the mirror had with him, however long ago that had been.

As if nothing is wrong, the messenger-in-training continues, "she will arrive in a day or two. Here, in heaven. Human time, of course."

As if the messenger is playing a cruel joke, Jongin stay quiet. He locks eyes with the messenger, the pain swirling in them so visceral, the messenger has to look away to compose them self.

"Here?" He finally chokes out.

"Here," they confirm. "To be trained under you. Your journey is not over. Not that any of us expected it to be."

The pained cry that threatens to swallow the room whole results in confusion on the expression of the messenger-in-training but they daren't press Jongin on the matter. So much so that when he requests, possibly in the smallest voice he's capable of mustering, "leave me," the request is met.

"But before I leave, you must be back in your quarters before she arrives, you are aware of that?"

Waves crash against a bleached white shore, the air cool against Jongin's skin, an unruly lock of his hair slapping against his forehead with every other gust of wind that comes his way, but he stay still as a rock, posture straighter than ever. Waiting.

Some angelic beings chose differently than Jongin. Some chose not to guide humanity, some chose to watch over earth itself, some chose to upkeep the heavens. It has been said that some heavenly souls chose to incarnate as human themselves, to then come back once their time was up on the earthly plane.

Surely, two of those three paths had their ups and downs also, but if Jongin's sure of anything, he's sure they're not expected to hold up and keep face in the position he currently is. He's sure they're not expected to stand strong and tidy when their whole world has been taken from them, the very ground they're used to standing on, pulled from underneath them. He hasn't measured the days... in days. Hasn't looked at a clock since, hasn't taken note of the changes in the daylight, the night sky.

Maybe you'll be the only one to understand what he's currently feeling, in the instance this was what you chose. But he knows within himself, even if he can't confide in anyone else about it, that you didn't choose this. And if you didn't choose this, Jongin finds no other alternative explanation than to blame himself for what happened to you. Blame himself for not being able to foresee what was about to take place when once again he'd been nothing but the encyclopedia of all things you, since you came into your earthly existence. Sees no other alternative for not being able to save you in time, even if it entailed losing everything he had forged for himself, even if it meant losing everything heaven had given him.

At this point, you'll arrive when you arrive and he'll try his utmost to act like heaven expects of him. Deliver your training, pretend like any of this was justified.

When it wasn't.

Isn't.

Never will be.

Some time has evidently passed. A rustle of leaves is heard in the previously deafening silence. Jongin's wide, white feathered wings flap once, an instinctual movement, one he has no control over. His breath is sharp, shallow, as he holds the blade he and every other Guardian Angel is in possession of to his chest. These weapons were mostly precautionary, in case of intruders of heaven, something heaven and its inhabitants hadn't need worry about in at least several millennia, but wars had existed in the past, and the inhabitants needed to be trained in case of one ever breaking out again, or in the extremely rare case of an intrusion into heaven's walls. These days, these weapons were mostly for decoration. Jongin's had never been used.

Right now, he has one purpose. Collect his underlings and guide them to their rooms, help them settle as much as he's been allocated to. Answer any of their questions as he does so, do everything he can to make this journey easier for his underlings, for the newer, younger angels in training. This time, a gnawing, visceral pain cuts through him, splintering him within. Even though he now knows beyond a doubt that your eternity was promised, the guilt still bubbles within, cuts into every joint, every blood cell. If illness could materialize in heaven like it can on earth, he's sure he'd be the very definition of decay, this moment in time.

He knows not if it's a blessing or a curse that it can't. At least this time. As he takes one step closer, he's not sure what he's expecting, how many underlings he'd been expecting, but in some sick twist of fate, it's you, alone. You don't look like you've just had your life taken from you in a metal death contraption, at least not physically. You're not bloodied, broken or bruised like you once had been. You're not strapped to a million and one wires that are doing overtime to ensure you're allocated one more year... month, week, hour, minute of life. The light in your eyes hasn't been drained and torn from you, like it was that fateful day.

He knows he wouldn't be able to keep his composure if any of that were to be presented before him, but is this worse? That it's now being painted like a rebirth, or even worse, like a surprise ending to a chapter of a book that abruptly ended. Like a beautiful eternity you've somehow unlocked from a premature death, a violent, bloody death. One no one saw coming.

As if that makes up for it. As if you could've ever contemplated such brutality for yourself on the most important day of your life? Like you would've ever chose that. Jongin knows you wouldn't. You know you wouldn't.

All for an eternity you didn't ask for, in a realm you'd re-enter with no memory of. A foreign, alien land so unlike that of the earth you'd known. It didn't sound like a good deal to Jongin.

Didn't feel like one when he had to watch you cry, scream and try your hardest to claw your way out of this seemingly new body and realm you'd found yourself in.

"I don't want this," you say. And he's speechless. All he can do is look at you, feel the crease between his eyebrows, feel the heart beating in his chest that's already been shattered into pieces innumerable, shatter all over again.

You're on your knees now, the sand around you caring not where it ends up. On your clothing, mixed into your hair, your eyelashes, wet with tears unending. If your emotion would materialize on your being at this very moment, you'd look like you did after the crash had taken place.

Jongin wants to fall to his knees too.

"Let me go back," you sob, and though you're a far distance away, you reach out your hand but he's not even sure if it's to him, or even if you've noticed him properly, it's like in this present state you're reaching out to anyone who'd listen. Who could grant you your desire.

Maybe instinctively you know Jongin can't.

He takes a deep breath as he edges closer, ever so gently taking hold of your arm, but it's still like you don't feel it. You're limp when he picks you up, guiding you onto your feet. Again, just like that god-awful day, your eyes have no light, your body has no fight. It comes on suddenly, so suddenly and it takes everything in him to not fall to his own knees and beg for your forgiveness, regardless of what anyone could or would say in protest.

This clearly had to have been his fault. He wanted to know you, too much. Wanted to converse with you, too much. Maybe he'd slyly intervened just a little too much? Who knew, but the reasons within his mind seemed numerous. He wouldn't accept that you would've chosen this.

"This too, will pass," he feels like a hypocrite to his own ears. Would it? Really? And maybe the words sound distant, floaty and stable to your own ears, but he hears the thickness of his words, tastes the way he chokes them out. He's not poised right now, even if he seems so to an untrained eye. If this were training, he'd have already failed. And he's thankful you're not coherent, because he'd give anything to cry the tears for you, than have to sob alongside you, for the life you've had cut short from you. The world you've been torn away from.

Counting the days comes a little easier now you're in front of him, existing in the same realm as him. But every hour stings still, every minute, even. Three long weeks take place, three weeks that you spend the most of in agony, he, the same, though he knows you can't tell. Before you arrived, he couldn't hide any of it, but now you're here, he feels that he must. He refuses to make your transition harder, refuses to make this any more harrowing and painful for you. You need some sense of stability. He has to try his hardest to be that for you.

Until you finally meet eyes with him, eyes dry of tears you thought you'd never run out of, an emptiness residing there instead. His own demeanor falters. Hope had always been something so tenderly threaded within your being, even at the worst of times, that it felt so agonizingly out of place to see it depleted, entering into a realm of hopelessness.

Maybe you don't notice how he gulps the lump down in his throat, the way he averts his gaze only slightly.

"What am I even supposed to do here?"

He explains everything. The seemingly endless possibilities. How you'll train and study and help upkeep the heavens, keep watch. From A-Z, he explains it all, sounding like a trained salesperson to his own ears. It's almost humorous. Just how long had he been here, really? On the manual of all things heaven, Jongin knows he wouldn't miss a punctuation mark. None of that is your focus right now, though, and he can see the burning question swirl within your irises.

"Do I get to go to earth?"

His lack of reply as he composes himself seems to be all the confirmation you need that... that's not currently on the cards and may never be again. His eyes follow your movements helplessly as you kick the ground beneath you, your eyes once again welling with tears, falling onto your knees, hands balled into fists, before they fan flat, your nail almost chipping from the pressure you're exerting as you dig it into the ground below you, as if you can claw your way back.

He understands.

Training is going as planned, as are the lessons. Whilst your spirit isn't in it, not even slightly, it's no lie that you grasp concepts well and excel in ways he once had, during his own days of training. It's almost a case of rinse, rest, repeat as you fall into this routine. Wake up, study extensively, rest, repeat. The light in your eyes still isn't back, and Jongin's trying to come to terms with the possibility that it might never be there again. But you're excelling, grasping everything the way you're expected to. Though he knows the hours that aren't allocated to studying, they're filled with your despair, endless tears you swore you'd seen the last of, the day before, the day before that. But now you hide them from your peers and Jongin feels that's even worse.

Even more difficult.

He doesn't expect that of you, but he feels he has no way of telling you so.

Today's lesson ends a little differently, however. You approach him, determination lining your features. "Teacher," you start, and he nods to encourage you, let you know he's listening, though his eyes don't fully meet your own, they stay trained to the piece of paper he's writing on. "Is there a... way to go back?"

He stills, glancing up at you, breath slightly hitching.

"To earth, I mean."

"I know what you mean," Jongin says gently. He's not sure how guarded his own expression is because he watches some semblance of understanding flitter behind your eyes. Jongin shakes his head and moves to get up from the desk he's sitting at. Now you know he has more insight on the topic, this is not something you're just going to drop, not with your inquisitive, determined nature.

"Please," you then plead, catching up to his long strides as you reach out to stop him from leaving the room. "Can we at least just discuss this? Even if briefly?"

Sitting you back down, you're not expecting the extensive reply you receive. How Jongin covers every basis. From every angle. The possible impossibility, the warnings if it were possible, the consequences, so far, so forth. None of his words are judgemental, you can't actually pinpoint the emotion behind them, if there is an emotion behind them. It's all just factual, as theoretically factual as it can be, considering no one in heaven has ever pulled this off, nor ever attempted to. You listen, intently. Trying not to zone out here and there, which you find yourself doing a lot of, since arriving in heaven. The frequency of heaven is so different than what you remember of earth, as faint as that's starting to feel.

This was a much rawer, confusing process than people made it out to be in the movies. There was no beautiful transition, no peaceful acceptance. Just agony, a lot of it. And even more confusion.

If you hadn't had your teacher Jongin with you, you know you'd be having an even worse time. So you're thankful for that, at least. But you know any which way, if there's a way to return to earth, you're going to find it. And attempt it. You just hope Jongin isn't given the blame for your own actions, if that fateful day ever does arrive, knowledge-giver or not.

His eyes haven't left your features since he started explaining, as if gauging your reaction. "If you did find a way to return to earth, though we have no idea what the consequences of that action would be for earth, time, your human life and your existence itself, I can guarantee that it wouldn't go unnoticed by heaven."

Somehow you already knew that to be the case. You nod and thank him for all he's told you today, excusing yourself as you make your way to the door to exit the room. But just as you're doing so, you murmur, mostly to yourself, the sadness in your voice penetrating your own eardrums, "I still had so much left to do."

"I know."

"I had so many more plans," you find yourself continuing, forlornly. It's been so difficult to get these words out, to voice how unfair all of this actually feels. If you're sure of anything, you're sure you intended to tough out the human mission. Live as long as you could naturally. That had there been the option to opt out of 'accidental deaths', you'd have done so. You have no way of retracing your steps, but if pre-human you had've agreed to that, you'd love to have a word with them, ask them what the - and pardon your usage of this term - hell was wrong with them...

...What was wrong with you.

Do the angelic beings just sit conceptualizing lives they could live if given the option like these very lives are an endless array of video games options, or an episode of some ongoing sitcom show? Signing up for horrific ends of lives just like that, as if they won't be the ones feeling that very death take place, with none of their prior memories in tact? Just what kind of meta-masochism is that? God, the questions you actually had, they were unending. You didn’t even know where to begin with verbalizing them all.

"I know," Jongin repeats, quieter. By this point he's caught up with you, and passes by gently. "E-excuse me," he says, as he reaches for the door handle.

But you stay still, eyebrows furrowed.

You'd been reading this wrong, hadn't you? Your prior encounters and conversations with your teacher seem to flit by in chronological order in your mind, highlighting all the things you seemed to miss, in the emotional sphere of things. No, none of it was lack of emotion. All of it was emotion, so much emotion, that it became that seeming lack of emotion. Like an emotional shutdown, a timed and practised one. Only here, in this proximity, do you notice it falter.

"Jongin?" You start. "...Teacher?"

His next breath is shaky, it falters. You don't even need words here, he's on your wavelength, he seemingly already knows what it is you're about to get at. "We have bonds too," the words don't exactly falter, but the way he fumbles with clasping and unclasping own hands as if he's trying to calm himself down, tell you his true emotional state. "You... remind me of someone, that's all."

You look at his dark brown hair, notice how he won't meet your gaze, how he swallows as if this will convince himself of the words he's saying.

"I think recognise you from somewhere," you push.

His exhale eludes him. His entire being seems to wash with dread, and somehow you know you've hit the nail on the head. "Maybe the artwork," he offers. The artwork of angels in the human realm, you suppose he's referencing here, however, short and sweet answers aren't like him, at least as you've come to know. And no, you haven't been here long, but when it feels like there's not a lot else to do, learning about others and trying to understand them apparently ranks high on your list of priorities.

"No, I mean. ...I've seen you somewhere," you insist. "You, teacher Jongin. As you are. I don't mean an artwork I witnessed in my human life. I recognize you." Gently you reach over and place your hand atop his and watch as he winces and snatches his hand back. But not before you feel the chorus of: 'I caused this, I'm to blame for what happened to you. I caused this, I'm to blame for what happened to you. I caused this, I'm to blame for what happened to you. I caused this, I caused this, I caused this' emanating off his very being.

Startled is an understatement, as you wince, also flinching to the same severity Jongin just hand.

His wince follows. His sole desire to encounter his human face to face, to wish for it so strongly, surely that caused this in its entirety. Rather than offer any explanation, which you're half heartedly expecting at this point, Jongin flits out of the room, leaving you bewildered and in even more confusion than prior.

Some days pass until your next encounter. You're swaying on a swing set located in the heavenly gardens, that seems like it overlooks earth and the cosmos itself, it's a fascinating sight, one you could stare at and try decode all day. You don't really have the time for that right now, your schedule is surprisingly packed and has been since you arrived here, but you do have a small amount of free time allocated during your days. Mostly you spend them exploring the mass that is heaven, the endless, ethereally beautiful mass. And today, you’re entirely taken by this.

Your eyes keep flitting a little to the left every time your swing reaches high up into the air, landing directly on an array of looking glasses, snow-like globes, that seem to contain the image of a different person's life, human after human, situation after situation, in real time, and you find yourself longing even harder to be back on the earthly plane, which surprises you, considering you're encountering a view like nothing you've ever seen before. Something so outside of the human scope of understanding, something so fascinating, that everything else on earth genuinely seems to pale in comparison.

Though what you're looking at is that, everything on earth. In real time. Seemingly every person that's ever been, is, or will be, reflected all at once, on their individual snow globes. Some are playing in the park with their dogs, others are trying their best not to flunk their upcoming exams, some are in the midst of a job interview they've lost sleep over, others are deep in meditation, but all, ultimately, even those that would argue within an inch of their life that they knew otherwise, are completely unaware of the sheer scope of transcendence and timelessness that exists outside the human lifespan. The human existence. All are equally unaware of just how deeply special and fascinating their little stretch of life and existence actually is. Most take for granted the beauty of the earth, too.

You're not trying to evade blame in any of those facets, because you were the exact same and now you'd do anything to return.

Oddly it's only when your eyes fall onto a young woman, much like you were, unzipping and picking up her violin do your hands shake and the enormity of emotion you're experiencing as you view all of this hit you, all at once.

You hadn't known he was there initially, he has a very quiet way of appearing alongside any of the inhabitants of heaven, but as soon as you notice his presence, Jongin is no longer looking at you. Things had been a little uncomfortably quiet between you two since the conversation in the classroom, but Jongin was nothing if not the perfect teacher, mentor, guider... and angelic being. He didn't hold grudges towards anyone he encountered, didn't push anyone to explain them self or force anyone to talk about things they weren't ready for.

He certainly didn't outwardly showcase how shaken that conversation likely left him, truly, he treated you as normally as he could. Taught you as normally as he could. Guided you as normally as he could.

But it had cast a shadow of something over your dynamic that neither of you were reaching to iron out and discuss, at least not yet. Still, you find yourself discussing anything and everything around him. Asking questions you probably shouldn't be asking, yet still find yourself asking.

Usually he had the perfect answer. But you had a knack for choosing the instances he didn't.

"Did I ask for that?" You start, as he places himself beside you. "Would I have really asked for that?"

Jongin says nothing, this time, which you're half expecting. He knows the answer to all these questions, you feel, there's just something else he's not telling you. Sometimes that's intentional, some things are your own to figure out, you're well aware of that. But this seems like it is something he can't seem to tell you. And by answering these questions you randomly throw his way, sometimes, it appears like that in itself would be the key to the exact piece of knowledge he can't diverge.

"I see it over and over," you continue. Both of you know what you're referencing. The change, the transition, as heaven would like for you to call it. The awful experience with death is all you can remember it as. "Then I see sand, then I choke on the sand, then I'm here. And it's blindingly white before it's beautifully iridescent, lukewarm and sterile, but the sterility has not left nor shifted into its true beauty and at this point I'm wondering if it ever will."

Sterile's a good descriptor, Jongin thinks, as he listens to you intently. Beautiful, monotonous living, gift wrapped in a scope of color the human eye couldn't even process, let alone keep up with. Jongin, he's never known any different, but you have. Of course you'd want to go back. Especially when you both knew you had unfinished business.

No, not business. An unfinished life. A life curt short.

"They're a lot more free than here, huh?"

"In all the ways you could and could not imagine. But we don't hurt in the same way, we have knowledge of the infinite. Our pain can't create worlds in the same way and our love, I'd argue it can't be measured in the same scale, at least as I've observed." If it could, wouldn't you be safe right now? Securely sleeping in your cozy, warm bed after the most meaningful night of your life?

"I don't believe that."

"Well, I couldn't help," Jongin finally chokes out, "I mean--"

Something akin to understanding clicks in your expression and Jongin regrets his words. There were languages without sound, truly, weren't there? "Jongin--" You reach out to grab him, but he's already on his way.

"Have a rejuvenating rest," he says curtly. "It's a busy day tomorrow. "

It's a day or two later, during your free time, as you travel down another unexplored corner of heaven, hoping to learn all you can about your new place of residence. You glance to the unending hall titled 'Music', and find yourself flitting towards it as fast as you can, eyes scanning and cascading down every section, barely withholding your gasp. For a minute, there's nowhere else, the individual souls you've known are but a second, passing thought as you drink in everything before you, the endless beauty of all things music. What it was, is and could be in every realm of possibility, in every realm of existence. Songs and scores that humanity hadn't even considered being possible, instruments that made the beauty of the violin - your most prized and beloved instrument - pale.

Today marks your first true smile, on this strange, heavenly plane, your first day of true happiness and contentment. And from today, you're sure it won't be your last.

You tiptoe back to the heavenly gardens you find yourself viewing in an entirely new color. The heavenly gardens whose beauty you haven't given yourself chance to truly witness. It strikes you that today is the first day you've been anchored in the present moment, noticing the happenings around you, instead of existing in your own heavenly little bubble. There's a line of newly turned - slash - recruited angels a few footfalls away from you, congregating together as they take a class you don't really remember taking yourself but surely must have, and there in all his glory, stands your mentor, in his flowing pink robes, with his truly unmistakable aura.

As floaty as it is - and it is, every angelic being seems to be - his presence is unlike any of the other angels you've met, it's more stable, somehow less floaty in comparison.

Jongin pats the space beside him as he instructs the new angels to sit beside him. They do so happily, all smiles and grace... and peace. Something tells you none of them were traumatic deaths, so likely no murders or accidents. Likely terminal patients who'd long since accepted the end of their lives, already lived out the grief and denial stages. Were actually looking forward to what came next.

Not one inch of you relates, and maybe that's for the best. Because you wouldn't have wanted to face the severity of their struggles on the earthly plane, either. There was no game of comparisons, at the heart of it. Those that ended up in heaven, ended up in heaven. That was the one truth. Regardless of how that came to be.

You were here now, and so were they. You actually wanted the best for them, and hoped they settled in as easily as they could have done, and as happily. You hoped that contentment and happiness followed them for all of their days.

"Guardian Angel, Jongin," is what breaks you out of your reverie, a statement that is intended as both an introduction and a greeting to the new angels.

But one that leaves you feeling cold, numb, and confused. Not mentor angel, Jongin or teacher angel, Jongin as he'd referred to himself with you on numerous occasions, but Guardian Angel, Jongin. For some reason the name rings loud and clear, it almost deafens you. A warmth floods through you, it's not necessarily anger, but it's not wholly understanding either.

You’ve waited a few days to approach your 'mentor' slash 'teacher'. Cutting straight to the chase, though it seems he’s half expecting you. Maybe this should stop you in your tracks to assess the situation, but it doesn’t. "When were you going to tell me?"

The ice water is colder than he anticipated, and Jongin had spent every moment since you arrived anticipating this exact encounter. How could he have been so stupid as to instruct a class during your break, knowing you frequented the heavenly gardens so?

"...That you knew me all this time?" You don't miss a beat. "That you were my Guardian Angel?"

He glances the other way, but you're closing in on him. He half fears an altercation, but heaven had never seen the likes of that between its own inhabitants. Slim chance as it was, you did not look happy. His heart pangs in pain, but also in understanding. Had he prolonged your confusion and anguish during your transition by not letting you know his truest position in heaven? Suddenly, his grief and anger at himself hits him tenfold, and he wants to re-imprison himself in his room of holding. Things weren't bad enough already, were they? Now he'd only gone and added to your pain and suffering when he could've been helping you adjust and heal properly through the bond you naturally shared.

He felt like the worst Guardian Angel that had ever existed. His next sentence seeming to only cement this fact in his own mind. "I slept through the car crash." He shakes his head. "...Rather was positioned somewhere where I couldn't correct this, but that is the same as sleeping through it considering my connection to you, and how close I have been to you all of your life, considering how well I know you. What I am to you. There is no justification of that, there is no logical way of explaining it, there is no redemption for that, Y/N. I failed you. At present, do I even deserve the title Guardian Angel? I should've been stripped of my position the second this took place."

It’s as if this opens the floodgates of all that is yet to be said, explained, or experienced. You can feel the tears cascading down your cheeks, you can feel yourself edge closer to the beautiful, angelic being before you and you can feel yourself wrap yourself in his embrace and sob until there are no tears left, and knowing you can't get a coherent word out here, you listen as well as you can. To all he has to say. The pain, and slight anger you'd been feeling dissipating, though he feels his words should evoke the exact opposite reaction. The guilt and suffering within him feels like it could tear apart worlds, and yet he sees himself as being unworthy of his position. It's easier to pinpoint all the ways he assisted you and helped you during your earthly life, especially in his embrace, adding in all the ways he's helped you here in heaven, and yet he dismays of himself so much, when he's the shining example of what heaven wants their angels to be, and especially their Guardian Angels, that’s as much as you can gather, if any of your classes are to go by.

"A foreboding sense like that can't be ignored, and there's no doubt that I would've fallen if it meant saving you, maybe someone knew that somewhere, and thus... I ended up in that room of imprisonment. You have every right to hate and despise me to your heart's content, but you think I wasn't mad too? At the feebleness of the human form, how easily that beautiful life can be taken away, like it never even existed in the first place? But that anger never settles on you, it is always directed at myself. I was chosen to guide you, to protect and defend you and I failed in the moment you needed me the most. I should've found my way out, I should've stopped that day's events taking place. You should be alive right now, and we should've met many, many, many years from now. I should've held onto patience, waited for you to come to heaven in your own time, yet I fear my unending desire to meet you face to face, to know you face to face, resulted in that day's events, somehow. Regardless of what anyone else can say on the contrary. I love you, Y/N, in all the ways a Guardian Angel should. I adore everything you are and everything that makes you, you. I have been so blessed to know you, to have been assigned to you. I have such endless love and pride for you and everyday it kills me in how much I failed my one true purpose, as a Guardian Angel. Truthfully I care not if I lose everything after today, but I haven't been doing nothing in the time since you arrived. I have been studying like crazy. Reading documents that even I am not allowed to chance upon. Or shouldn't. I may lose everything, and I know you won't remember any of this after a few weeks back on the ground but... at the end of your days, your natural days, I do hope we will meet again. And be face to face once more. Until then, it has been the loveliest thing in existence to know you, like this. The most prideful and honorable thing to be your Guardian Angel. Please remember me, somewhere within. And know I am always on your side. I am always with you. Though I know not will happen to me after today, for you, it's worth it. You will always be worth it."

"Guardian Angel Jongin...?"

"Our past few weeks have have barely counted down there, on earth. It’ll be hours, tops. Truthfully, regardless of what it takes from me, I will alter that day's events. Though I wanted to meet you face to face so, so, so much. I didn't mean like this. It shouldn't have happened like this. Not like this. Never like this."

Before you can blink, or even realize just how closed in you’re suddenly feeling, how the sense of your surroundings seems to have blurred since you entered this strange room you just, for some reason, seemed to assume was his classroom, but blatantly isn’t upon second glance, he places his hand atop yours as a shrill, ear splitting sound enters the room and elicits an even shriller gasp from you whilst a blinding off-white light envelopes you within and twirls and twirls, and keeps twirling, until all you knew of heaven and your Guardian Angel Jongin fades, and fades, and keeps fading...

Awaking with a start, the familiar Parisian trees come into your line of vision. You glance around you and notice your manager, and driver bopping along as normal to the radio, as the car pulls up to your destination, exactly on time, as safely as ever. You blink once, then several times more, wondering where your head-splitting headache came from and why you suddenly feel so nauseous and out of place. "I had the strangest dream," you finally settle on, directing this towards your manager who's hardly paying any attention to you at this moment in time. Still, you continue, "I think I met my guardian angel."

Your manager guffaws, rolling his eyes. "Guardian angel? Y/N, there's no such thing!"

As you glance back at the trunk of the car, the droplets of light rain trickling down the window, you wipe the lone tear that also trickles down your cheek away. "Thank you," you whisper, not knowing if this will be your only chance to tell him that, if these memories are to leave you soon and though you swear you must've been back on earth barely two minutes, it already feels like they are leaving you. But you know in your heart, that you will meet him again, someday. Thank him, someday. For all he did for you, today.

For a moment, you see Guardian Angel Jongin's outline in the empty seat to the right of you, along with his faint, but unmistakable pink glow. You feel the warm, comforting energy you've felt around you so often, during good and bad days, and anything in between, and finally understand that this being really has been watching out for you as long as you can remember, that he has been with you through everything, and hopefully will continue to be, regardless of the possible severity of his last actions.

Maybe it was nothing but a test for him, a screening for him to understand the worst possible scenario a human and their Guardian Angel can go through together, for him to truly cement and prove the fact that he truly was as devoted to you as his position expected him to be, and in doing so, you suppose he passed with flying colors, or he lost everything he was... but it was your life, and now you intend to live it. To the fullest you can.

For everything you've got left to do, to be.

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panatmansam · 3 years

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Is there such a thing as free will?

The philosophical question of freewill and determinism has little meaning in the context of Buddhism. However I know it is an important question in Western thought so let me start by defining some terms. The term “free will” in the context of this discussion of ethics refers to the act of an individual in making a decision based upon their own experience and applying their own ethical and moral standards to that decision. So, this presupposes that the individual in question have both the power of choice and a moral system. So, do animals have the ability to make moral choices or is this limited only to humans?

We have found no evidence that any animal has an independent moral system. Studies of chimpanzees have shown that they can be taught a rudimentary ethical system and “know” when they have violated these rules even offering an “apology” for their bad behavior. This however is not an ethical decision in the way humans view ethics. It is more of a conditioned response to the will of the trainer. One response will gain a reward another the withholding of reward or a punishment.

Humans alone possess a sufficiently developed brain, particularly our neo-cortex, to make decisions based upon abstract principles rather than simple survival. Your typical Buddhist would get a chuckle out of the question “can your cat be taught the principle of Ahimsa?”. Your cat has no moral system and no freewill for the same reason you cannot run Photoshop on an old IBM AT, that is, she lacks the hardware to run the software. There is no “sin” per se in Buddhism. There is the path and there is everything else.

Now we move on to the question of free will in the context of epistemology. Our fate is governed by a nearly infinite number of quantum possibilities which flow from events in the past. Not just your past but the entire past. Every instant you make an observation and a choice and this instantly eliminates all of those quantum possibilities except the one you chose and it goes on like this forever.

You create your destiny and your reality as you move through the stream of space time.

There is a term in programming and in mathematics “decision tree” Gamers are familiar with this term. In computer games and simulations there will be a series of choices to make. If you choose option (a) you are sent in one direction and if you choose option (b) in another. Then you get some new choices in an ever branching tree with each choice determining what happens to you next within the game. The number of possible permutations of these choices is so immense that they might as well be infinite. This of course gives the illusion of “free will” although in actuality the choices are finite and predetermined.

Thus, it is in real life. This is the crux of chaos theory. It is an absolute certainty that there was a possible choice for you to make, maybe a very tiny seemingly insignificant thing like skipping breakfast which had you taken that path of decision instead of another you would be dead right now. You skip breakfast, are out the door five minutes earlier than usual, crossing a busy street and an out of control automobile hits and kills you. 30 seconds either way would have made the difference between life and death. Sound far fetched? Ponder this: Every person who dies … dies because just the right set of circumstances occurred at just the exact second required for death to occur. Not some, not most … all.

So, what to do? We don’t have advance knowledge of events so these things are largely beyond our control. All we can do is treat every interaction with another human being as a branch in the decision tree. Be compassionate. Be generous. Be forgiving. Be kind. To the best of your ability control your destiny by living in the moment as the best person you can be right now.

Freewill? Only if the universe, and so the number of choices, is infinite. Since “infinity” is as big as it gets and the astronomers tell us the universe is expanding then the universe must, by logical extension, be finite. Therefore, there is no true “freewill” it merely appears to be such because the number of choices on the tree is so near to infinite that for our purposes it is infinite. So, it merely gives the appearance of free will.

#philosophy #freewill #dterminism

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 43

Title: Revelations

Warnings: profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip

He’s out the door by five thirty in the morning; leaving behind the warmth and the comfort of his home and making the five block trek to the Hudson River. With no fresh snowfall, the sidewalks and streets are remarkably clear; milder than normal temperatures slowly melting the waist high banks and turning patches of ice into puddles of muck and slush. His strides are long and purposeful. Soles of his runners crunching as they pass over neatly and tightly packed snow; following the foot tracks that earlier pedestrians have left behind. Chin tucked into his chest and his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie; anxious to get to his destination and start the day off in the right frame of mind. The headphones worn over a black beanie render him oblivious to sounds of life taking place around him ; the pounding of the music blocking out the sounds of traffic and the rattles and bangs that accompany the city garbage trucks. While he doesn’t make eye contact with those he passes, he notices the nods of greeting; meeting them with the brief turning up of the corner of the mouth and a slight head nod of acknowledgment. It’s what he enjoys most about the area and what eventually sold him on the idea of buying the brownstone; people are friendly enough to smile or offer a quick ‘good morning’, but don't possess enough curiosity to actually stop and speak.

He’s never been a social butterfly. Popular in high school, he’d blended in easily with the ‘jocks’ simply because of his athletic prowess and fairly good looks; girls wanted to date him, guys wanted to befriend him and hang out and attend beach parties. And while he’d followed the mantra ‘fake it until you make it’ and managed to stay quietly on the sidelines, he’d never been entirely comfortable with his status as one of the ‘cool kids’. The guy who’d get irritated when his buddies would make fun of the less popular kids; easily flying off the handle and calling them out on their shit if they said anything degrading towards the special needs students or dared to lob sexual comments towards females. He’d felt more in tune with the ‘loners’; the ones who’d hang out in the back of the cafeteria with their noses shoved in books or who’d eat their lunch sitting in front of their lockers.

It’s how he’d met his ex wife; a newly arrived grade nine student whose family had just moved Port Douglas from Perth. Taller than most females he’d ever encountered, she’d had a thicker build that both guys and girls consistently made fun of; broad shoulders and muscular legs and well defined arms. Shy and soft spoken and never making eye contact with anyone in the hall; thick, wavy blond hair falling over her face as she ignored the whispers and the stares and kept her books and binders clutched tightly to her chest. He’d been the first student to approach her; the last football player to leave practice and finding her sitting on a curb outside of school, waiting for a ride that was running late. And she’d seemed both stunned and terrified when he actually spoke to her; standing above her still clad in his now muddy and sweat soaked practice gear, helmet tucked under one arm and his backpack slung over a shoulder. Introducing himself and offering both a hand in greeting and a ride home; quickly discovering that she had a beautiful smile and the most stunning green eyes he’d ever seen. And she’d made him feel things that none of the other girls ever had; never experiencing that immediate and intriguing spark with any of the prom queens or the cheerleaders that he’d attempted relationships with in the past.

“I know who you are,” she’d said, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. It had shimmered in the sunlight; the lightest and most beautiful shade of blond that he’d ever laid eyes on. “Everyone talks about you. You’re like the most popular guy in school. Yet you don’t act like that. You’re not a total ass to people. You’re different.”

It had been the first time that anyone had ever told him that. Truly believing that the company he’d kept had painted him in a far different light. Guilty by association because those he hung around were boisterous and crude; convinced that being good at sports meant they ran the school and didn’t have to show respect to anyone. And it had made him feel good; being seen as kind and compassionate doing wonders for his ego in a way no touchdown or goal scored ever could.

She’d accepted his ride home that night. And the request for a date before she slipped out of the car. Two weeks later they were inseparable and considered themselves ‘exclusive’; holding hands in the hall and having lunch together every day and spending nearly every waking hours outside of school with one another. He was convinced that he met the love of his life and that she’d be the one he’d marry and have a family with. Grow old with.

It had started out well; a brief engagement and married only a week after graduation. She’d been certain she could handle the life of a soldier's wife; he was new to the military but extremely committed and determined to make a lifelong career out of it. And for the most part they’d been happy; a little house not far from his home base, a tight circle of both military and civilian friends, the honeymoon stage lasting well into the second year. Everything changed once he received his first deployment; eight weeks in Afghanistan that quickly turned into six months. When he’d returned home, he’d begun hearing the rumours; she was angry at his absence and his inability to call home on a regular basis and sought solace in the arms of not just one man, but many. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, and she’d been convincing when he’d confronted her about it; pledging her undying love for him and assuring him -with both words and her body- that he was the only man that she’d wanted.

He’d been an idiot. For years. So smitten that he hadn’t wanted to accept the truth and refused to walk away; seeing her as his ‘be all and end all’ and not wanting things to come to an end. He DID love her. Probably a lot more than she had ever loved him. He’d been so terrified of abandonment, that he’d held on even tighter; he’d lost the only other woman he’d ever loved at a very early age and couldn’t stand the thought of losing Sarah too. So he put up with it; sticking by her side no matter how many notches on the bedposts she lodged and no matter how rampant the rumours and the gossip became. Soon that love turned into resentment and sheer tolerance. Letting her live her ‘double life’; pretending to be a happy and adoring couple in public yet knowing she was off running around behind his back the second he was shipped off for a tour. His drinking became a problem; booze numbing the heartache and the loneliness and giving him an escape from the miserable reality of his life. And he’d been a week removed from filing for divorce when the pregnancy test came back; she was expecting a baby and she was adamant it was his despite all the evidence that told him there was no way he could possibly be the father. He couldn’t leave her like THAT. He’d be viewed as the bad guy; the asshole that had ended his marriage WHILE his wife was pregnant. So he’d changed his plans; vowing that he’d stay by her side no matter what and that he’d be the best father and family man he could possibly be.

He’d been in Iraq when Austin was born; informed of his son’s arrival while in Mosul and immediately sent home. And he’d known right away that the kid wasn’t his the second he’d looked at him; not a single feature that could be attributed to either father OR mother. But it hadn’t mattered. The second he’d held Austin in his arms and all of those tiny fingers had curled around just one of his, Tyler had made his decision; he’d stick around and be the boy’s daddy and love him a way he never thought it was possible to love another human being. He’d be the kind of father his kid could one day brag about; attentive and patient and compassionate. Never would he be like his old man. He would cut back on his drinking and get help with his anger management issues and his wife would never have to worry if he’d wander and find someone else; throwing himself one hundred percent into their marriage and in raising a family together. Even if it meant that he’d never be truly happy and that she’d continue her dalliances whenever he was stationed overseas. He’d stay committed to her no matter what; his son never having to grow up without both parents under the same roof or suffer from the trauma of being from a broken home.

The cancer had changed everything. The stress behind caring for a terminally ill child had brought out both his and Sarah’s true sides; they didn’t love each other and could barely stand being in the same room together and all of the pretending and the faking was just wearing them down and making things even worse. But he’d admired her; her commitment to caring for their rapidly deteriorating son, the steadfast determination to beat it ‘no matter what’, and the rock solid courage she displayed when it was evident Austin’s time on earth was coming to an end. And despite her mistakes and her failures as a wife, she HAD deserved better. She had needed a man that would support her; someone that would hold her while she cried and lift her up during the especially dark and trying times and would be by her side during funeral preparations. He’d failed her; running away when things became too painful to witness. And in the end, he’d failed his son as well. Leaving him alone and scared; his final moments on earth spent wondering what he’d ever done to make his father hate him THAT much.

It’s been seventeen years and sometimes it hurts just as much as it did the moment he got the news. The loss still painful and immense; a part of his heart forever torn out of his chest and never able to be put back into place. And it isn’t just the unexplainable and often unbearable sorrow that comes with losing a child; so powerful and pronounced it can bring even the toughest of men to their knees. It’s the guilt and the regret that continue to haunt and eat away at him; silent and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. It comes when he’s at his lowest; when the combined mental illnesses are rearing their ugly heads and threatening to drag him down. That’s when the voices come out to play; the cruel and the degrading whispers in his ears that insist he’s EXACTLY the monster that he’s made himself out to be. The kind that abandons those he loves when the going gets tough; physically brave, but an emotional coward. They remind him not only of the mistake he’d made with Austin but those he’d committed within the last twelve and a half years; the lies he told and the promises he broke and the times he raised his voice or put a fist through a wall. The moments he’d slipped and given in to his addictions; the fear of being a failure as a husband and father pushing him to not only the job, but the bottle and the pain meds as a form of coping and a means of escape.

Normally he’s able to fight those voices off; years of therapy -and an extremely patient and attentive wife- helping him develop healthy coping mechanisms. The water remains his favourite and most successful form of escape; the familiar scent of salt that hangs heavily in the air, the sounds of the waves as they roll up onto the shore, the sun's powerful and often punishing rays glistening on the rippling surface of the ocean. Sometimes it’s a couple hours spent surfing; the feel of the wind against his face and crispness of the water that seems to cleanse his very soul. There’s days where it’s as simple as a walk along the ocean line; the water lapping at his ankles, wet sand cushioning and moulding around his feet. Or a hike through the forest across from their home. Taking a well beaten path that snakes and winds through the dense gathering of trees and leads to a small clearing; a small wooden staircase he’d erected shortly after they’d moved into the house giving access to a patch of pristine, white beach. It’s a tiny piece of solitude; tucked away and unseen from even the edge of their main property. And they’ve ventured there together many times; taking along that faded and tattered plaid blanket and a picnic lunch and taking advantage of every minute of quality time granted to them. Reconnecting in many ways; playful bantering and light hearted teasing, deep and emotional chats revolving their respective childhoods and the shared loss of the only parent that had loved either of them. Even after twelve and half years there’s never a lull in conversation; always something new and long buried that’s brought to the surface and finally shared after decades of locking it away. It’s never boring when they’re together; a strong friendship and a unique and powerful bond -cemented during that difficult and terrifying time nearly thirteen years ago- serving as a stable foundation for everything else built upon it.

The riverfront is quiet. A half a dozen dog walkers and one lone jogger. The latter a middle aged woman in top of the line athletic gear that he’s encountered a handful of times over the past three years and always offers him a warm smile and a nod in greeting. He pauses at the railing; checking for any missed calls or text messages and taking his time to stretch and warm up. The body feels good today; the stiffness and the pain minimal, the warmer than usual temperatures keeping any arthritis flare ups at bay. There’s a distinct connection between his physical condition and his mental one. When his body feels healthy and he’s able to skip the daily cocktail of pain meds and exercises learned during physio, his mental condition isn’t as fragile. The burden of stress and torment that normally sits upon his shoulders suddenly seeming so much lighter; the usually bottomless and fermented wound in a long ago broken heart not seeming so gaping or festering. He feels energized and renewed; a deep and peaceful sleep and a pain free morning making him feel as if he’s prepared -mentally and physically- to take on the world. It’s still there; the black cloud of depression that hangs over him. But it doesn’t seem so ominous or menacing; those slivers of hope and positivity managing to sneak through.

He takes a moment to relish the view. The peek of the sun on the horizon, the glistening of the snow and the chunks ice that have taken up inhabitance on the surface of the Hudson, the faint glimmer that plays off the windows of the skyscrapers in the distance. There’s moments where he’s truly content here; enjoying the change of pace and admiring the vast differences between New York City and home. Today is one of those days; he feels secure in both where he is and WHO he is. A welcomed outsider as opposed to a strange and mysterious interloper. It’s a reminder that home is wherever his heart lies. His wife and his children sound asleep; warm and safe in their beds only blocks away.

SHE’S his heart; the person that came into his life and turned his world upside down and reminded him that he was still very much alive and had so much more living left to do. Showing him -for the first time in thirty five years- what it was like to be TRULY loved; wholly and completely and unconditionally. Someone so bright eyed and light in heart and spirit; managing to love life and everyone in it despite all of the pain and the suffering that they’d been put through. Giving him what he’d hadn’t even realized he needed; a normal life with everything familiar and mundane and domestic that came with it. Someone to wake up to in the morning; a sleepy smile and soft lips against his own, hands reaching for him and a warm body pressing against his. Going to bed with them every night; those remaining conversations that take place in a darkened, quiet room and the intimacy shared and the love and appreciation expressed.

Once more removing his phone from his pocket, he selects a different playlist and jacks the volume up on his headphones; drowning out the world around him and concentrating on nothing but breaking a sweat and pushing his body to its limits.

*****

It’s shortly after seven when he returns to Gramercy Park. Layers of clothing sticking to sweat soaked skin, beanie long discarded and shoved in his pocket; hair damp and sticking up in several different directions. The tips of his ears and his cheeks flushed from both the chill in the air and the effort and energy he’d put into his run; slow and steady at first, then legs and arms pumping as hard and powerfully as they possibly could. He feels invigorated; a level of energy and exuberance that he hasn’t encountered in weeks. Maybe even months. And it’s a welcome change. Feeling healthy AND content at the same time.

Before returning home he stops at the bodega at the end of the street; filling a basket with the various items Tanner had scrawled onto a post-it note he’d found attached to the fridge. The kid never fails to both surprise and amaze him; constantly finding recipes or ‘science experiments’ on the internet and always insisting on trying his hand at them. Forever curious; holding onto that innocence and that joy and wonder for far longer than any of his older siblings ever had. Phenomenally intelligent and talented; teaching himself how to play the guitar and the piano by ear, his paintings and drawings always appearing as if they’re done by someone so much older and possessing an experienced eye. Emotionally mature and wise, but socially lagging; unable to form friendships and constantly feeling awkward surrounded by groups of people and easily overwhelmed by too much activity and noise. Yet so empathetic and compassionate; easily and powerfully feeling other peoples’ emotions and his moods and behaviour dictated by the mere energies people give off when around him.

The bodega owner greets him with a broad smile and a friendly nod when he approaches the counter. A first name and very few details kind of friendship; Frank the sole proprietor and only full time employee since the store’s opening forty years ago. Short and stocky; a headful of curly salt and pepper hair and a thick moustache and a heavy Bronx accent. Both know very little about the other; talk mostly revolving around the weather and current events and Frank’s never ending curiosity about life in Australia and his overwhelming desire to visit and one day retire there.

“Alone today,” Frank comments, and moves to the small coffee bar -nothing more than a handful of machines and containers for milk and cream- behind the register. It’s an understanding between them; Tyler never needing to ask and Frank knowing his standing order. “That doesn’t happen often. Normally you’ve got at least one or two rug rats hanging off ya.”

“Gotta sneak out when I can.” He empties the contents of the basket onto the counter; the latter he stores in the rack at the end of the counter. “How’s business?”

“Quiet. Same thing every Christmas. The elite like to get away. They’re going to where you’re from, and your kind are coming here. Must be quite the culture shock, huh? Going from the sand and the sun to this crap?” It’s a typical conversation starter; the same opening question Tyler’s been asked every single visit for three years running.

“It’s a change, that’s for sure. Can’t say I wouldn’t rather be back in the sand and the sun. But…”

“But the kiddos and the sweetheart like it. I get it. When my daughter moved to Phoenix with her husband about ten years back, she insisted on coming back here every Christmas. Missed the cold and the white shit too much. Who the hell is crazy enough to miss THAT?”

“Wife says it’s the magic of the season. Wants the kids to experience it. White Christmas and all that. And they enjoy it; skating, sledding, snowball fights, all of that crap. If they’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I hear ya there. Makes a man’s life much more easy and relaxed, that’s for sure. If the littles and the wife are happy, things are a lot more pleasant, know what I’m saying?. They all doing well?”

“No complaints. Got spoiled at Christmas, Aunt’s coming to visit today, big brother’s getting married in three days…”

“Busy, busy. Not rest for the weary. How’s that cute little wife of yours?”

“Still little. Still cute.”

“How you holding up? Must be hard being away from home. From what you’re used to.”

“I miss it,” Tyler admits, and nods his appreciation for the coffee that’s set down in front of him; black, no sugar. “It’ll be nice to get back. It’s quieter there. No one really around. Just our own slice of paradise. Private. Just the way I like it.”

“You definitely are a stickler for your privacy, aren’t ya.”

“I’ve got my reasons. For keeping to myself.”

“Just not a people person, huh?”

“I like people. Some don’t like me. It’s better if they keep away. Especially from my family.”

Frank nods in understanding, then begins ringing up and bagging the purchases. “Gotta like a man that will defend and protect his own, no matter what.”

“You do what you gotta do,” Tyler reasons, reaching into the pocket of his hoodie when he feels his cellphone vibrate against him. Eyes narrowing and a frown playing on his lips when he reads the text sent by his wife; complaining about being woken up from a dead sleep by the ‘new nuisance in town’ repeatedly ringing the doorbell.

He was confident they’d seen and heard the last of Natalie. While he’d been grateful for her assistance in the American Girl store during Addie’s disappearance, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. His already agitated and guilt stricken mood made even worse but yet another attempt on her part to proposition him; boldly stating in front of other customers and his children and granddaughter that while playing hard to get only made him sexier, it was time to put an end to the games. It was obvious -in her mind- that he was attracted to her and was only holding back out of a sense of loyalty and obligation to the woman who’d given him seven offspring.

The sex would be off the charts, Natalie had whispered in his ear, and brazenly attempted a crotch grab while waiting in line at the register. Not caring about the still sobbing Addie in his arms and tightly clinging to him, or the furious glares that Brookie was shooting in her direction. He hadn’t been kind in his rejection; angrily yanking her hand away with enough force to cause her to wince in pain and for his fingers to bruise the skin around her wrist. And he’d kept his tone low yet forceful when he’d told her to back off; he wouldn’t tolerate blatant disrespect towards his wife, especially in front of two of the children she’d not only hand in creating, but had carried inside of her.

“Bad news?” Frank inquires, and pushes the plastic bags across the counter.

“Something I’d rather NOT be dealing with.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket and checks the total on the register; pulling forty from his wallet and waving off the change when Frank begins to hand it over. “But it’s probably better in my hands that my wife’s.”

“Feisty little thing, ain’t she,” Frank chuckles. “I still remember when she told that one kid off for checking out your one girl. Your oldest. She was over there looking at the magazines, minding her own business, and some fucking high school joker was checking her out and making comments to his buddies. Your wife certainly isn’t afraid to mix things up, is she.”

“You don’t mess with a mumma bear. She’s tiny, but she’ll rip you apart,”

Frank grins, “Bet that makes you toe the line, huh?”

“I long ago learned what buttons NOT to push. She looks all cute and sweet and innocent, but trust me, that girl can fuck someone up. I’ll probably see you later.” He gathers up the bags in one hand, cup of coffee in the other. “TJ and Declan will want to come by. They also do when you get the new Archie comics.”

“Already put two aside from them. Gotta treat my best customers right. And speaking of that privacy you like so much…”

Tyler pauses in the doorway.

“You ain’t gonna like what I have to tell you.”

“Not when you put it like that I won’t.” He once more approaches the register. “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been in here a few times asking about you. And your family. I meant to tell you yesterday, but you had the girls with you and I didn’t want to bring something up that might spook them or upset them.”

“Someone from the neighbourhood?”

“A newcomer. Some woman. Tall, blond, need a power washer to get all that crap off her face. Why do women do that? Why do they feel the need to smear on the war paint? Looking like damn clowns is what they look like. I don’t want to be stuck in the rain with a girl and turn around and look at her and find damn eyebrows washed away, know what I’m saying? Wake up next to them and all the makeup is gone and you no longer recognize them and you think some strange woman snuck into bed with ya in the middle of the night.”

“What did she want, Frank? What did she want to know?”

“Little questions, mostly. Mostly about you and your wife. How you met, what her name was before she met you, where she’s from originally, family life. That kind of thing. Wanted to know your last name but I told her I had no clue. First names only. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“Ask anything about my kids?”

“Just wanted to know their ages, school grades, stuff like that. I didn't have any info to give her and I told her that much. Also said even if I DID know, I wouldn’t cough it up to her or anyone else. Awful nosey, don’t you think? Trying to get up in a man’s business like that?”

“She’s definitely treading on thin ice. I appreciate it. That you wouldn’t tell her even if you did know that stuff.”

“Ain’t nobody's business what you do with your life. And it especially ain’t none of their concern when it comes to children. That’s just creepy as hell, if you ask me. Think she’s up to no good? Trying to cause trouble? With you and the missus?”

“I don’t know what she’s up to.” He moves towards the door. “I’ll find out though. One way or another. Thanks for letting me know. And for having our backs.”

“You and your family have been nothing but good to me, figure I should return the favour. Let me know how it turns out, would ya? Once you find out just what she’s up to. Inquiring minds want to know, and all.”

“I’ll let you know,” Tyler promises, and uses a forearm to push open the door.

“Hey!” Frank calls to him, and he pauses on the threshold. “What IS your last name?”

“Drummond.” The lie rolls easily off the tongue. Almost TOO easily.

“Tyler Drummond,” Frank nods as he considers it. “Got a nice ring to it. You know, you don’t look like a Tyler.”

“Yeah,” he grins, and steps out the door. “So I’ve been told.”

*****

He finds her in the kitchen. Back turned towards the doorway as she waits for the toaster to finish its cycle; repetitively tapping the end of a butter knife against the granite countertop as her body repeatedly shifts weight from one side to the other. Well known evidence of agitation and simmering anger; body always needing to be in motion, anxiety propelled nervous ‘tics’. She’s been fighting her own battle against mental illness for longer than he’s known her; the years of psychological torment inflicted by her mother -and eventually an emotionally, physically, and sexually abusive husband- leaving wounds far deeper and more punishing than anything his body has ever experienced. Medication and therapy have helped, as has finding her own ‘niche’ in the world beyond just being a wife and a mother; running her own business, a once weekly yoga and meditation class, her own strenuous workout plan that he’d helped her create. She’s always managed well considering; panic and anxiety attacks fairly uncommon and periods of deep and crippling depression far and few between.

While he always admonishes her for taking on too much and throwing herself into caring for others instead of herself, she swears that it helps; keeping her mind and her body occupied and not giving her a chance to sit still for too long and dwell on things. He’s sure there’s some PTSD in there. The incident on the Sultana Kamal Bridge still weighs heavily on her; unable to sit down and talk about it without having an emotional meltdown and suffering from the occasional night terror. But she always shrugs off the idea of additional help and supports; insisting she’s fine and just needs to keep busy and that things will pass. They always do. And even though she’s infamous for calling him the most stubborn human on the planet, he’s pretty sure that it’s HER that actually holds that title.

Per Tanner’s written instructions, he leaves the bodega purchases in their bags; carrying them into the pantry and placing them in a plastic tote box marked with his son’s name. The ten year old very particular and detail oriented; extremely neat and tidy and having his own anxiety attacks if anyone dares to upset his ebb and flow. For his seventh birthday, the only gifts he’d requested were a label maker and over two dozen food storage containers; adamant that those were the only things he wanted and didn’t care about the idea of a new bike or surfboard or the latest gaming system. Less than twenty four hours after receiving what he so desperately coveted, he’d used them to reorganize the pantry at home; everything stored in plastic containers and labelled appropriately and throwing a fit if anyone didn’t alphabetical order when putting things back on the shelves. THAT had prompted them to finally seek out a diagnosis for him. They had suspected it for years; Tanner sitting some place on the Autism spectrum. Yet it had still been hard to hear the words come out of the specialist’s mouth; fear and worry and concerns for his future flooding through them as they saw the words neatly printed out in their son’s medical chart.

“Everyone still asleep?” he inquires, as he finally approaches. Standing behind her with his hands on her hips; lips meeting the top of her head as his fingers gently knead the supple flesh. Even when -uncharacteristically- grumpy first thing in the morning, she is always at her most adorable; hair messy and face still puffy from sleep, petite frame clad in her infamous mismatched pyjamas. Today it’s a pair of scrubs with the word Columbia printed across the ass and a faded and tattered t-shirt from his side of the closet; miles too big on her yet somehow sexy at the same time.

“Thankfully. Takota woke up in a panic; the doorbell scared the ever loving shit out of him. You know how it is; things always seem a thousand times louder when you’re asleep. I cuddled with him for a bit; he’s passed out in the middle of our bed now.”

Draping an arm across her collarbone, he presses a kiss to her temple, then watches in amusement as she tends to the toasted bagel now sitting on the plate in front of her; putting enough force behind buttering it that the knife pierces the toast.

“You know…” his lips rest against the side of her head. “...you’re not supposed to stab the damn thing.”

“Better to stab this than walk down the street and stab that bitch in the fucking face,” she reasons. “I don’t think I’m in the position in my life where it would be a good idea to go to prison.”

“Definitely wouldn’t be ideal at this point and time. Not to mention you always complain about how shitty you look in orange. So how about we NOT stab anyone and try to rein in our homicidal tendencies?” Reaching around her, he wrenches the knife out of her shockingly tight and strong grip; completing the preparation of the bagel for her.

She tips her head back to look at him, smiling in appreciation. “I’m mad.”

“I can see that.”

“What is that woman’s major malfunction? Why is she so goddamn insistent on seeing you? I mean, I know you’re hot and the walking and breathing definition of masculinity and you’re enough to make even the old ladies all weak in the knees, but fuck…” she turns around to face him; plate in her hand as she leans back against the counter. “...she is WAY worse than any thirsty females on the playground or at the soccer park.”

“She’s something else alright.” He moves to the kettle boiling on the stove; snagging a clean mug from the drainboard by the sink and a tea bag from a canister on the counter.

“To show up here at all is a dumb ass thing to do. But at seven in the morning? Knowing there’s a house full of littles here? She has a kid of her own. I doubt she’d like if someone popped up on her doorstep and woke her crotch fruit up.”

“I don’t think she gives a shit, Me. About our kids OR her own.”

“She treats that kid like a goddamn accessory. Have you seen the way she dresses that little girl? Fur coats and Gucci and Chanel, a freaking bracelet and earrings from Tiffany’s. The kid even carries a bloody Birkin bag! She’s six! What the hell kind of parent buys stuff like that for ANY kid? Never mind a six year old.”

“A person with money to burn apparently.”

“WE have money to burn. And then some. Our kids wear clothes from Target. The occasional UnderArmour or Nike swag here or there. Most expensive thing on them is their shoes. And not even THOSE are over a hundred bucks.”

“Millie does have that expensive purse,” he points out, as he stands in front of the open fridge door and snags a carton of milk; dumping the preferred and required amount into the steaming mug of tea. “The pink one.”

“The Chanel. Yes, she does have that. And you know why she does? Because when Millie says ‘daddy, I really like that’, daddy goes ahead and buys it for her and doesn’t even bother to check the make or the price tag. That is SOLELY on you.”

“Daddy likes to spoil his girls,” he reasons, offering the mug as he rejoins her. “Especially the oldest one.”

“Millie always HAS been your favourite.”

“I meant YOU,” he presses a chaste peck to her lips when she turns her face up towards him. “Not Millie. I spoil you way more than I spoil any of those kids.”

“And how many times have you been told NOT to?”

“Way too many to count. How many times have I told you that I don’t give a shit what you say and that I’m going to keep on doing it?”

Smirking, she rips a piece of bagel off with her teeth. “Touche.”

“What did she want?” He stands next to her, palms resting on the edge of the counter. “The nuisance?”

“To be just that. A nuisance. I kept telling her you weren’t home. That you’d gone out for a bit. She wasn’t having any of it. Insisted that I was lying and accused me of being jealous and possessive and told me that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep you away from her. Something about 'you can’t stop what the heart AND the body want'.”

He gives a derisive snort.

“I don’t know. By that point I had already tuned out and was fantasizing about how I was going to kill her and dispose of her body. What the hell is her issue? I get that she has a raging female boner for you and in all fairness, I don’t blame her. But that woman is coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs. And I don’t use that term lightly. I save that for the REALLY crazy ones.”

“Did she say what she wanted? Why she even came over here?”

“You mean other than to jump on your dick? Or to convince me that you and her have some undeniable sexual chemistry and that you’re reluctant to leave me because I’m clingy and needy and have trapped you with half a dozen kids? Plus one.”

“She said that?”

“Every last word. Apparently you and her have really hit it off. There’s some kind of powerful and potent sexual and emotional connection between the two of you. News to me.”

“She’s fucking delusional. You realize that, yeah?”

“Big time delusional. I know what you’re like. I know how much you love me and your kids; how you’re unwaveringly faithful and loyal. I’ve never doubted any of that. I’ve never had a reason to. If you wanted out, you would have left a long time ago. You’ve had your chances.”

“I don’t want out. I’m all in. I’ve been all in for twelve and half years. I’m all in for the rest of my life. So sorry, Me. You’re stuck with me. Until the bitter end.”

“I can think of worse fates. But what the hell is her problem? Who does shit like this? Calling on another woman’s husband? Making up bullshit like that? Trying to cause problems between people?”

“A crazy person, that’s who. That’s all she wanted? To see me?”

“To give you Addie’s mitts back. I guess she left them at the American Girl store and crazy lady picked them up. Couldn’t she just leave them in the mailbox instead of showing up and ringing the doorbell at seven in the morning? Is that NOT what a normal person would do?”

“I think we’ve already established that she’s NOT normal.”

“You didn’t tell me she was there yesterday,” Esme sips at her tea. “At the American Girl place.”

“I thought I did.”

“That’s my sworn enemy. I would definitely remember if you told me something like that.”

Tyler shrugs. “Guess it just slipped my mind with everything else that was going. With Addie flipping out and me feeling like shit for losing it on her, telling you about the neighbour wasn’t the first thing on my agenda. I probably should have, but…”

“So she just happened to be there? At the American Girl lunch?”

“Yup. Showed up with her kid.”

“Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think? That she’d be there on the EXACT same day? I don’t mean to go all paranoid and possessive and jealous wife, but…”

“You’re not paranoid. And aren’t we all a little possessive? And jealous? When we love someone? I’m that way with you. I don’t like guys checking you out and making comments towards you and all that. And if that makes me possessive and jealous…” shrugging, he reaches for her tea and takes a sip.

“This woman has serious issues, Tyler. She’s nuts. Certifiably, I think. Didn’t you already tell her to leave you alone? That you’re married? Happily?”

“More than once.”

“Does she not realize some men actually DO value the sanctity of marriage? Mind you, it doesn’t seem like many these days, but still.”

“I don’t think that’s the kind of married men she’s used to, Me. I don’t think I fit HER definition of a married man. And it’s not for the lack of trying to scare her off. I’ve tried. Several times. Doesn’t seem to be getting through.”

“She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. Still, I don’t like someone pissing in my front yard. Continuously. Seems awful weird; her somehow showing up nearly everywhere you go. I can see the park being a one off; she was new to the community, saw a parent there and took it upon herself to try and make friends. But everything else? When you took the kids for lunch, when you and I were on our date; we SAW her watching us from her living room window. She didn’t hide it.”

“That was a little...odd,” Tyler admits.

“And how many times has she suddenly popped into the bodega when you’ve been there with the boys?”

“I’d say nine times out of ten.”

“That’s way too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“I do think that. I also think we need to talk about it. About all of this.”

“Oh God…” she grimaces. “...you ARE leaving me for her.”

“What?” He can’t help but laugh. “No, baby. NO. I am definitely NOT leaving you for her. For ANYONE. I already told you; I’m in this right to the end. Whenever that may be. There’s no one else, Me.” Draping an arm across her shoulders, he pulls her into him; lips meeting her temple and lingering for several seconds. “There’s just you. There’s always just been just you. Always will be.”

“And we need to talk about her because…”

“Because there’s more going on than you realize. More than just her showing up places.”

Esme frowns, mug poised at her lips. “Uh oh. I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Believe me, I don’t like it either. What’s going. But you’re right; that woman definitely DOES have issues.”

“Other than being a stalker you mean?”

“I don’t know EXACTLY what’s going on. Or how serious it is. But I don’t like it. What she’s up to.”

“And coming from someone with your instincts and your background? That’s saying something. Do I need to worry about it? Is it something we need to really watch out for and take seriously and…?”

"I honestly don't know, babe. But she knows stuff. About us. She somehow knows our name. Called me by first AND last yesterday. I've never told her what it is. And I highly doubt you did."

“I want to stab the woman in the face with a butter knife, so I think it's safe to say I’m NOT going to be out there telling her personal things. How WOULD she find that out? It’s not like it’s advertised anywhere. Frank doesn’t know it, Desi wouldn’t say anything.”

“She tried to blame TJ. Said she talked to him when he was out shovelling snow and that he coughed up the info. I confronted him and he denied it. Said that she DID stop to talk to him and all he told her was his first name. That’s it. Told me he knows better than that; not to tell strangers much about us.”

“TJ doesn’t lie. Not since he got caught...on camera...denting your truck and trying to tell me that it wasn’t him. He learned his lesson, believe me. And out of all the kids who would be a blabber mouth? He’s the last one. He idolizes you. The last thing he wants to do is piss you off or disappoint you. So when you tell him what to do or what NOT to do, he listens.”

“So how did she know? If neither of us told her and Desi didn’t say anything and we know it’s not TJ…”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t been around any of the other kids. They’d all say something. They’d tell us if she was asking questions.”

“She had to find out from somewhere. Someone had to tell her. It’s not like that info is just out there for anyone to look up. You don’t even use a real last name on the internet. We’ve been careful. We locked everything down five years ago. Made sure people couldn’t find shit out. But somehow…”

Sighing heavily, she carries her empty mug and dirty plate to the sink, then rejoins him; standing between his legs with her hands on his hips. “Do you think it's something serious? Something we need to worry about?”

“Are you asking me if I think she’s a threat?”

Esme nods.

“I don’t get that feeling from her. I don’t think she’s the type that gets her hands dirty. More the type that aids the person that does.”

“That sounds familiar. I distinctly remember someone else who used to do exactly that.”

“Let’s not compare the two of you. You’re nothing alike.”

“I used to help people get their hands dirty. I used to ask all the questions and find out all the info and then pass it along to guys like you. Sounds like she might be into the same kind of thing. Have you looked into her? Find out anything about her?”

“Not much to find out. Couple things here and there but nothing serious. I know she used to be in a relationship with the District Attorney in Chicago. There was a write up about it; the two of them at some charity event a few years back.”

“Is he the ex husband?”

“If he is…” he tucks her hair behind her ears, then cradles her face in his palms; thumbs repeatedly brushing against her cheeks. “...she’s never gone by his last name. I checked into that, too.”

“Maybe try Nik. She’s got a real knack of finding things about people. Things they’ve long kept buried. I’m sure she’d look into it. Probably have better luck than you.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll go in that direction. But I was thinking…”

She smirks. “I don’t think I like the way you said that...”

“...that if you still had any of your old contacts….”

“My old contacts? I haven’t spoken to any of them in years. Not since the whole fuck up with Nathan and the fake papers from the Marines. I haven’t talked to any of those people since.”

“What about people in the game? That you worked for BEFORE Nik? You ever talk to any of them?”

“There’s a couple I interact once in a while but mostly about non job related stuff. Just random checking in on each other and seeing how our lives are going. You’re not serious about this, are you? About wanting ME to try and find things out? I haven’t had a finger on that particular pulse in a long time.”

“The circle’s pretty tight,” Tyler reasons. “Once you’re in it, you’re never really out of it. There’s guys I haven’t talked to in years but I know I could call if I needed a favour. Maybe you’ve got a couple of those too. People that would do you a solid if you needed them to.”

“I thought we agreed that I’d put that part of my life behind me? We talked about this. After I royally messed things up by not realizing those papers sent to me were fake. I mean, it’s practically my fault that Nathan managed to get a hold of you in the first place.”

“Okay, we’re NOT going to go there. Because none of that is true. It happened. There’s no one to blame. He knew he couldn’t take me in a fair fight. Knew he had to get me from behind. Take me down.”

“And he wouldn’t have been able to had I NOT called you. Had I realized those papers weren’t the real deal, you never would have gone there and confronted him. We would have waited for the legit documents and you would have known how unstable he was. Instead, I just sent you in there and…”

“Let’s get one thing straight. You didn’t do anything. I went in there on my own. It was my choice. I had the chance; to walk away and leave him there. And I didn’t. I went back in. You had nothing to do with it.”

“If I’d known about the papers…”

“YOU had nothing to do with it,” he repeats. “There was no way you could have known what we were dealing with. Same way I couldn’t have known. It happened. Nathan did what he did.”

“Yeah, and you almost died. Because I was careless and…”

“Stop,” he presses a kiss to her lips in order to silence. “We are NOT going to talk about him. Nothing good ever comes out of talking about that asshole. So can we not? Bring him up? Can we let this go?”

“I just…”

“Drop it,” he orders, and then pecks the tip of her nose. “Please.”

“All I’m saying is…”

“Oh my god, woman. Stop.” Placing a kiss to her forehead, he gathers her into his arms; pulling her tightly into him, hands locking together at the small of her back. “We’re not going to talk about this. Five years ago. It never leads to anything good. And I really do not feel like fighting with you. Not after the night we had last night.”

Smiling, she wraps both arms around his waist. “It was a good night.”

“A very good night.” He drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You were fucking incredible.”

“I was, was I?” She looks up at him, bottom of her chin resting on his chest. “You weren’t too shabby either. You know how to raise the bar impossibly high, I’ll tell you that much. And that whole thing in the tub? We need to do that again. ASAP.”

“Thought you didn’t enjoy it. You were practically having a temper tantrum.”

“I was frustrated. Do you know that aggravating it is? Getting that close and having someone just yank the carpet out from under you? Do you have any idea how maddening that is?”

“Actually, I do. You’ve done it to me. Many times. But if you want to do it again…”

“I do. There’s a lot of things I want to do again. And again. And again. With you.”

“Baby, I aim to please.”

“And you do. Very well, as a matter of fact. Even though I am still slightly embarrassed by my reaction. You know, when I…in the tub...when you…”

“When I made you squirt?” He chuckles when she gives an embarrassed groan and buries her face in his shirt. “Why does that make you all shy and shit? I’m the last person you should be embarrassed around. We’ve been doing some dirty shit since day one. You think you would have stopped getting embarrassed a long time ago. I’ve only been your husband for twelve and a half years.”

“It’s just so...I don’t know...gross.”

“Gross? It’s fucking hot. It’s a turn on. Knowing I can make you do THAT? It doesn’t happen often; you getting THAT worked up.”

“Well I guess you need to try harder,” she teases, and gives a yelp when he brings both palms down onto her ass in ringing slaps and then squeezes tightly. “I have to say, husband. You really are a man among men. I definitely hit the jackpot when I landed you. Smartest thing I ever did; letting you put a ring on it.”

“Even though you didn’t want to marry me at first?”

“For the record…” her hands move to his sides, softly and repeatedly moving over his ribs. “...I never said I didn’t want to marry you. I said I was scared to get married again. That I was worried we were going to fuck things up. And I loved you and I didn’t want us to fuck them up. We both had pretty bad track records when it came to marriage.”

“That’s because we both married the wrong people the first time around.”

“I was just scared. I didn’t want things to go bad between us. Not when they already seemed so good. And if that meant staying the happily unmarried couple…”

“But I wasn’t okay with that. I wanted to get married. To you. And before you ask? No. Not because you were having Millie. She had nothing to do with it. I would have wanted to marry you even if there hadn’t been a baby. But I’m glad there was. She’s pretty awesome. They all are.”

“Yeah,” she smiles up at him. “They are. We’ve done good work, Tae. We definitely make some pretty damn beautiful babies. And it’s kind of sad; that there won’t be anymore. Kind of bittersweet. But I think it’s time for us, don’t you? Time for you and I to concentrate on each other for a change. I don’t want that to be all there is to us. Two people raising kids together.”

“There’s way too much between us for it to ever be just that,” he assures her. Laying a hand on the small of her back, he once more pulls her tightly into him; fingers of his other hand biting into the cheek of her ass when he covers her mouth with his.

The kiss is long and soft and slow; her arms wrapping around his waist as she stands on the top of his feet in order to give her that little bit of extra height. Her lips moving against his in perfect unison; moulding and fitting together in ways he’d never experienced with anyone else before. Bodies so in sync with each other; always so responsive and eager.

“I have another favour to ask,” he says when he pulls away, hands settling on her hips.

“You keep kissing me like that?” Her eyes are still closed as she sighs heavily and dreamily. “ For the rest of my life? You can ask as many favours as you want.”

“I don’t want you causing issues with Riley. Over the fentanyl.”

Her eyes snap open; a frown curving her lips as she looks up at him.

“She didn’t give it to me with bad intentions. It wasn’t like she was hooking me up with a fix. That’s not what I wanted it for. It had nothing to do with being an addict and everything to do with the pain I was in. I had screwed that knee up and it was going to be months before they could do another reconstruction and I couldn’t take much more. That’s how bad it was. How bad I was suffering. And I knew the doctor wouldn’t give me anything else. That he’d think I was just drug seeking; in it to get a high.”

“So you asked her.”

“I couldn’t ask Ovi. I knew he’d tell you. And I didn’t want him getting caught and his whole career going down the toilet before it even started. So when Riley came up here that summer, I asked her for something stronger. To hook me up with something that could help. And she put up a good fight; she wasn’t going to go give in. I’m the one who convinced her to. Promised I’d only use it when necessary.”

“And did you? Use it just when necessary?”

“Only when the pain got to be too much. She gave me enough pills to last a couple months. I only took eight. In the two weeks we were here. That’s it. When we were ready to go back home, I put them in the medicine cabinet and never thought about them again.”

“Until the other night.”

Tyler nods. “It scared the fuck out of me, Esme. How easy it was to take to them. To remember they were even there. I didn’t even give it a second thought. I just grabbed them and took them. No hesitation.”

“You realize how badly that could have gone, right? You don’t play around with that stuff, Tyler. That is some heavy duty shit and you just went ahead and took six of them and…”

“Not one of my finer moments.”

“It could have killed you. That many. You know that, right? It could have killed you. Did you even stop to think about that? About what would happen? How I’d find you dead? On Christmas morning? Did that even occur to you?”

“No,” he admits. “And that’s what scared me. The fact I didn’t think of any of that. That I just took the stuff. Like I’d done it a million times before.”

“Did you WANT something bad to happen?”

“No, babe. I didn’t. I just needed to shut my brain up. I just needed to get away from it. I needed peace and fucking quiet. An escape. From what goes on in my head.”

“I’m going to ask you something and I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me. No matter how hard it will be for me to hear or how bad you think it will hurt me. I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that? Be honest with me?”

“I can.”

“Do you want to die? Right now. Right this second. Is that what your brain is telling you? Is that what it’s BEEN telling you? That it would be better if you weren’t here? That my life and the kids’ lives would somehow be better if you weren’t around anymore? Has it been telling you that?”

“How did we get onto this? I was just asking you not to go off on Riley. That she was only trying to help and…”

“Please don’t do that. Deflect. I’m scared too. It frightens me that you found it so easy to take those pills. That you didn’t even stop to think of what could happen. How it could have killed you and what that would have done to me. And the kids. That isn’t like you; you weigh options and you analyze every scenario and you consider every possible consequence. So I need to know. Did you take those pills because your brain is telling you that you’re better off dead?”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…” her voice cracks with emotion and she valiantly fights back against a flood of threatening tears. “...I need you to tell me the truth. I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with here. I need to know just how serious this is. I need you to tell me what’s REALLY going on in your head. So we can get past this and figure shit out and work on how to help you.

“I don’t…”

“I know you’re just trying to protect me. And believe me, I love you so much for that. The fact you’ve always protected me. No matter what. But right now I need to know the truth. Or we won’t get past this. Do you want to die?”

He swallows heavily. “Sometimes.”

“When was the last time you thought of it? When you felt that way?”

“Couple days ago.”

She briefly looks away in an attempt to control her emotions. “That night you took the fentanyl? Did you want to die then?”

He nods.

“Jesus….” she rakes a hand through her hair, then places it over her mouth; tears managing to escape. “...I mean, I was pretty sure you were going to say yes. We’ve been in this place before. I’ve taken a loaded gun out of your hand, for crying out loud. But to actually hear it…”

“I’m sorry, Me. I’m sorry that my brain is the way it is. I am so fucking sorry.”

“I know you can’t help it. I know it’s an illness and I know first hand how bad it can get. But I just…” she takes a deep, quivering breath and slowly releases it. “....I need to go and get some air or something. I need to just get out and get my shit together. I need…”

“Baby….” he attempts to move his hands to her shoulders, but is foiled when she takes a step backwards.

“I need to get out of here. Just for an hour. Just to clear my head and accept this and figure out a way to deal with it. It’s not you, Tyler. You realize that, right? Please tell me you realize that.”

“I do. I do realize that.”

“I just don’t know how much more I can take,” she admits. “I am so close to breaking and if that happens, I won’t be of any use to you. Or the kids. I just need some fresh air and a chance to get myself together and come to terms with this. With just how bad it actually is. Can you give me that? Just that little bit of time?”

“Of course I can.”

“It’s not you,” she repeats, and moves closer to him. Once more perching herself on top of his feet; both arms reaching up to circle his neck. “I need you to know it’s not you.”

“I know that, Me.” He cradles her face in his palms; fingers gently brushing away the tears that glisten on her face. “Just tell me you’re coming back. That you’re not just going to walk out of here and leave me and our kids. Tell me…”

“I’m not leaving you. Or them. I just need some time. An hour, even. Just to get my shit together. Just to sort through all of this stuff in my head. I’m not going anywhere, Tyler. I’m not walking away from you. From our family. From US. That isn’t even an option.”

“I’m just worried you’re going to walk out and realize it’s just too much. That I’M too much.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she assures him. “I love you. My whole world begins and ends with you. I need to be able to help you. And right now? I don’t think I can. I feel like I'm drowning. Or like I’m walking on really thin ice and one bad step is just going to pull me under. And I need to be okay. I need to be strong. For you.”

“I need you to be strong for YOURSELF. Why haven’t you told me any of this? About how you’re feeling? Being this close to the edge? Why…?”

“Not right now, okay? I’m going to go and get dressed and get some air. And when I come back, we’ll talk. We’ll get TJ and Millie and Alannah to watch everyone and we’ll sit down and talk. Get it all out in the open. BEFORE Riley gets here. I’m coming home, you know. It’s not like I’m disappearing off the face of the earth. I WILL be back.”

“And I’ll be here. No matter long how it takes.”

“An hour,” she promises, and turns her face up to his when he leans down to kiss her. “I didn’t lose you to Dhaka,” she says, and places her hands over his; eyes closing as his lips press against her forehead. “And I sure as hell won’t lose you to your own mind.”

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Chris Hemsworth Extraction

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all-cursed · 4 years

Text

Meet my first OC to have a specific fandom they’re attached to!

So I’ve never created an OC specifically for the universe of a show before, they’ve always been fandomless, but I was excited to create one for Wynonna Earp. I’m going to give him a proper page on the muse list as well as give everyone more detailed biographies eventually, but for now, this should work.

DISCLAIMER: to anyone who may have concerns, please know that I myself am Native American (Blackfoot and Cherokee), and did a lot of research while creating this character to make sure I do them justice and create an actual Native character that isn’t just a stereotype. Some parts that might seem stereotypical - such as the name this character chooses to go by - just comes with the modern era the universe is set in and the character’s own reasons. Several of the struggles he faces as well are specifically chosen because I hope to raise awareness in some small ways to the struggles that IPOC face even today. None of it is meant to be fetishising or stereotypical - some of it just exists in that space as an unfortunate reality.

Alright! Here we go.

[ i. STATS ]

NAME. meecha wo’i " crow " redwolf .

AGE. 23 as of 1x01 .

DOB. nov 29th , 1993 .

GENDER. gender-indifferent cis male : prefers he/him or they/them pronouns .

PREF. pansexual but has a preference for men and nonbinary individuals

SPECIES. human , witch , skinwalker .

RESIDENCE. the ghost river triangle .

OCCUPATION. former cashier ; former lead guitar in an up and coming rock band ; current bartender .

ETHNICITY. in simple terms: native american. specifically: hopi and creek. some scottish but not by much.

[ ii. INTROSPECTION ]

POSITIVE TRAITS. curious , adaptable , perceptive , creative , passionate , loyal , perseverant , open-minded , compassionate .

NEUTRAL TRAITS. persuasive , withdrawn (at first; nervous about other’s intentions) , secretive , free-wheeling .

NEGATIVE TRAITS. temperamental , unrestrained , spiteful , reckless , capricious , hedonistic .

DISLIKES. sounds of traffic or loud machinery in general & the sound of metal on metal & the smell of cheap perfume/cologne & hot weather & dust & houseflies & being told (instead of asked) what to do & rap music & wool scarves & fluorescent lights & lack of hygiene & orange flavoured candies/sodas/anything that’s not an actual orange & deep dark waters he can’t see the contents of & mistreatment of animals & having assumptions made about him & mathematics & onions & football .

LIKES. the scent and sound of rain & physical touch & candles , lighters , and controlled flames in general & the smell of cedar , pine , and the forest & music and playing musical instruments & italian food & raving about attractive people with others; intoxication is a bonus & leather; wearing it and the smell of it & glasses clinking together & late night talks & stargazing & drawing / sketching & records and record players & animals & 'stealing’ and wearing the clothes of people he’s close with & running & card games & dancing and singing & creating something out of nothing & getting the last word .

HOBBIES. drawing & singing and playing instruments & exploring / learning as many places as they can like the back of their hand & people watching & drinking and bar hopping & seeking pleasure and adventure wherever he can find it & collecting random things he enjoys / likes .

WEAKNESSES. he’s standoffish until he knows he can trust a person and can come off rude or aloof & the inability to let go of most grudges & his tendency to follow his desires and his heart before logic or his mind & impulsivity when emotional .

STRENGTHS. independence and ability to function and thrive alone (even if he would prefer to have company it is not mandatory) & ability to be resourceful and adapt to new situations quickly & handles time-sensitive situations well due to his tendency to act quick and think later & stubbornness to stick to a task and see it through & quick thinking & agility and speed of inhuman proportions (thanks to his less than human side) .

HABITS. clicking his teeth together repeatedly when annoyed & flexing fingers & playing with his hair in absentminded / lazy moments & silently staring at someone when he’s done with a conversation until they catch the hint and stop talking & if there’s music playing within earshot he always ends up swaying to the beat & will often make less than human sounds (growls, etc.) when angry if he doesn’t catch himself .

EDUCATION. average student throughout elementary , middle & high school . graduated with an equally average gpa of 3.0 , & decided against college, choosing to seek education in less typical places . fed up with his family and much of the treatment of his peers, he began to learn magic from a witch he met on one of his regular trips to wander the ghost river triangle and explore & learnt magic and about the more mystical parts of purgatory - ultimately becoming a skinwalker via the witch’s guidance and training .

[ iii. APPEARANCE ]

FACECLAIM. booboo stewart .

HEIGHT. 5 ' 8 " , though when able to he wears combat boots that add a few inches to his height .

EYES. a very keen and observant hazel when he’s in human form . when shifting , eye colour can range from yellow to red to green to blue depending on many factors - location , how far he shifts , etc . always alert and bright unless intoxicated or in very rough shape emotion-wise . often wishes they were green or grey and has considered wearing contacts to change his eyes (human-wise) to those colours.

EYEBROWS. defined arch but not so much so that it’s dramatic . not too thin and not too bushy , and naturally neat - he rarely has to tend to them and usually only does so to shave a tiny slit or two through them as a stylistic choice .

HAIR. long and dark ; sleek with an ever so slight wave to it . typically worn either down or in a loose ponytail , occasionally sections are braided . falls just a few inches above his ribcage . every so often he’ll dye streaks into his hair but has never dyed his whole head .

SCARS. many . he has a variety of smaller scars from a rowdy childhood; a few faint ones on his hands and arms from scratches borne of cats and dogs . the typical scars that come from falling off bicycles or off swings ; scraped knees and cuts on chins . his forearms especially are covered in scars he prefers not to speak of . there’s a scar on his forehead from a fight with his cousin as well as a few long scars on his back .

DRESSING STYLE. it varies depending upon mood and whatever job he has at the time . especially fond of punk / alternative styles , likes leather , and enjoys the comfort of loose and flowing garments. whatever style he happens to choose at any given time , he wears well and somehow always manages to draw attention - whether from the jewelry he accessorises with (varieties of bracelets and cuffs , rings , pendants with gems , etc.)

LIPS. naturally full , scar at the right corner of his lip , occasionally sore or split when he goes through anxious phases and tends to chew at his lips .

SKIN. smooth , tanned . he doesn’t have much body hair , a fact that doesn’t tend to bother him much. he rarely engages in a skincare routine and much like his eyebrows generally stays neat and well-kempt without much effort . does not wear much makeup but enjoys eyeliner from time to time . if not for his skin tone, the dark circles beneath his eyes would be much more visible .

CHEEKS. defined cheekbones , not easily flushed . sports the occasional scars due to nervous picking when he was younger.

[ iv. ABILITIES ]

LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english [ fluent ] , hopi [ conversational & spellwork language ] , spanish [ conversational ] .

THREAT LEVEL. mediocre to high .

WEAPONS. fairly efficient in his understanding of magic and can easily hold his own with either combative or defensive magic , but prefers when possible to rely on his own physical skills ; is proficient in hand to hand combat thanks to the speed , agility , and strength bequeathed upon him by his skinwalker nature . very skilled in knifeplay , whether throwing or up close . has little to no practise with firearms as of 1x01 .

MAGIC. magic learnt by his mentor was primarily elemental based and neutral in that it could easily be manipulated for defensive or offensive ; he was never extremely proficient and left before he could complete his training so he is still learning his limits and the heights he can reach , and wants to branch out . as for the magical abilities granted by his status as skinwalker - he is able to shapeshift , which saps him of certain levels of energy that depend upon what creature he takes the shape of . he is also granted higher than average speed, agility, and strength because of this which he keeps with him even when not shifting.

[ v. DETAILS ]

➣➣ he was born in georgia originally to a loving but struggling mother and father - his mother was hopi and his father was creek, and while both parents had originally lived on their own respective reservations, they had met one another by chance during a trip and fallen in love, eventually deciding to seek out their own home outside of the reservations. his parents loved him but struggled financially; eventually his mother’s sister offered to take him in. as that was the better option rather than the three of them becoming homeless, crow’s parents sent him to live with his aunt in arizona on the rez. while they stayed in touch, his parents needed to stay in georgia, and as such he only would see them on the occasional holiday.

➣➣ while his aunt meant well, his cousins were another story. living with his aunt and uncle would have been fine had it not been for their two children; a son and daughter who constantly bullied him behind their backs for not being pure hopi as they were, often harassing him about being a ‘halfbreed’. a quiet boy at heart to boot, he faced bullying in school as well all the way through high school. his cousins, in tenth grade, snooped in his room and found his journal - which they used to out him as pansexual to the school.

➣➣ the moment he graduated, he spent as much time off the rez as possible, avoiding his cousins. on one of his frequent trips to simply explore nearby cities and towns, he found himself in purgatory. one drunken night led to following a mysterious woman into the woods. as it turned out, she was a witch. intrigued and excited at the idea of learning magic and having a way to defend himself, he quickly took her up on her offer to teach him. after a few months, she let him in on her secret - she was a skinwalker.

➣➣ she talked up how powerful she was because of it, and how no one would ever hurt her again. the more he heard about it, the more he wanted it. still unhealed from the way he was treated growing up and too caught up in the concept of never having to be beneath someone ever again, he agreed to let her hold the ceremony that would make him one as well without thinking of the consequences. when she told him that the final task he needed was to kill a family member... he almost faltered but agreed and went back to the rez.

➣➣ he almost didn’t do it. it was night when he returned, and he could see his male cousin drinking on the porch. the concept of killing someone - even someone like his cousin who had treated him so poorly - was daunting. he might have changed his mind had his cousin not seen him arriving and was immediately being malicious; using homophobic slurs and accusing crow of having run off with a lover, talking about how disgraceful it was. and it all was a blur from there.

➣➣ bringing back a lock of his cousin’s hair to the witch, she finished the rituals and he became the creature she had promised - powerful but at what cost? still wrought with guilt despite having made the ultimate choice, crow left the forests on the outskirts of purgatory where he had been training and into the ghost river triangle itself, unable to go home after what he did and unable to stomach facing the witch. living out of his truck, he went from odd job to odd job, eventually landing a stable job as a cashier at a grocery store. around this time he chose to begin going by the name crow - both to distance himself from his past, and because if someone were to want to control or destroy him now as a skinwalker, they could do so if they knew his true, personal name. as such, a nickname seemed the safest bet.

➣➣ fastforward to present day (1x01). after a few years of cashiering and attempting to rent rooms and apartments without success, as well as a stint playing guitar for an up and coming rock band, crow landed a job as a bartender at one of the local bars and instead of attempting to rent rooms or apartments, ended up moving into the trailer park. it was sketchy to say the least, but he couldn’t afford anything fancy and clearly didn’t handle having roommates well. a trailer seemed like the next best thing, outside of living in the woods or in his truck. his tendency to mind his own business and expect that of others meant that he mingled with normal purgatory residents and the revenants equally, pursuing his hedonistic nature as he pleased. which was all well and good, until things began to get... a lot more chaotic due to a curse and an heir he had originally had no knowledge of.

[ MORE TO COME THROUGHOUT CHARACTERIZATION DEVELOPMENT ]

#temporary biography tag

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lorei-writes · 4 years

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Yukimura x Witch!MC

Content Warnings:

Background: none

Yukimura x Witch! MC: war, injury, blood

Background:

She had no memory of who she was - or much rather, it was fuzzy, faded in a way and unclear.

It felt as if she was floating atop a sea of endless darkness, the lukewarm sensation spreading in waves all over her skin. She couldn’t move nor even tell where her body ended and the world began. It was empty, yet full, steamy and dry - and then, she heard a single drop fall into the greater body of water. The universe - she - exploded in a plethora of colours. For the first time, she saw light.

She woke up, her vision still somewhat unfocused. Not quite understanding was had happened, she moved.

She sat up abruptly, blinking fast. The sensation was weird, alike to nothing she had felt ever before. She moved her limbs... Her form was physical.

She walked straight forward, confused and curious of everything around her.

Finally, she met humans. In her eyes, the creatures were full of contradictions, both fragile and powerful, compassionate yet cruel, intelligent, but gullible. Without realizing it, she changed her form to resemble them more.

For centuries, she travelled through lands and seas, observing and learning, until she returned to the place where she awakened.

She sat at the shore of the lake, water playing at her feet, and looked up, setting sun dyeing the sky dark crimson. She inhaled deeply, an all too familiar scent spreading through the air. She leaned back on her elbows. Indeed, humans were the most intriguing of species.

Little did she know, in that very moment, she was one as well.

Yukimura x Witch!MC:

He couldn’t enjoy a peaceful life, he wouldn’t even dare to hope for it, the war ripping through land, greedily consuming human lives. And yet, he was one of those who fought in it, he was the one entrusted with the existence of the soldiers - and yet, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that it should have never been the case, that he never would never be able to grow enough to fulfil that duty.

No matter how hard he swung his spear, it was never enough, the metal threatening to break at any moment - though perhaps he wasn’t any better in that regard.

Seeking solitude, he left the camp behind, venturing into the woods. Wandering aimlessly, the guilt weighting him down, he stopped upon reaching the lake.

“Yo,” she said, waving at him. Brought back to reality, Yukimura looked around, just to notice her. He almost jumped, certainly not expecting to see a naked lady on a shore near an actual battlefield. As if to startle him further, she moved towards him on all fours.

“What the...?!” he shrieked, taking a step back. She got up and clang to him, her eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“ What is it? It’s armour, right? What is it made of? How do they tailor it? And why do you wear this thing on your head, wouldn’t a helmet be more practical?” she bombarded him with questions, her hands resting on his shoulders. “ Huh, why are you so red?” “ Wh-What sort of boar woman are you?!” he stuttered, adding later in a lower voice: “And where are your clothes?”

She blinked fast, taken aback. “ Oh,” she slipped. “ Right. I forgot. Well, you see, I kinda live here?”

None of that sat well with him. Unwilling to just let her be, too aware of possible dangers, he wrapped her in his jacket and took her to the camp.

They weren’t exactly prepared to accommodate a woman, but found some spare clothes and fed her regardless. Sleeping arrangements were another problem, though. Due to lack of better options (and possibly Shigen’s pulling the strings from behind the curtains), she was to rest in Yukimura’s tent.

She drowned his embarrassment in a sea of questions - what was this thing used for, how did they call that certain sort of fabric, why were they gathered like that. Just endless stream of the purest curiosity.

“ What was it you called me back then? A ‘boar woman’?” she asked, stoking her chin. Suddenly, she grew a snout.

Yukimura blinked fast, not believing his eyes. He rubbed at them and looked at her again, her feet turning into cloven hooves.

“Wouldn’t a boar woman look more like that? Or maybe you meant a female bo..” “ What even are you?” he cut her off, his body instinctively readying itself for defence.

“ Oh,” she mouthed, turning back into a human. “ Well, you see, I don’t really know. I just kinda woke up and then travelled for a while - and saw so, so many wonderful things. And then I returned here and... Just was kinda living by that lake.” Yukimura seemed to have just understood how gravely he misunderstood the situation then. “ I made a mistake, I thought you were somebody else.” “ No, no you didn’t! You have sharp metal here and I can be hurt by that just as easily as you do!” she exclaimed, taking a step towards him. “If you’re worried, I’m not vicious.” “ How can I trust?” “ Well, for starters, I didn’t lie to you about the sharp metal things,” she murmured, pulling her sleeve up, a shallow cut splitting the skin of her forearm. He strode towards her and grabbed her by the wrist, just to lift her arm upwards, so that he could examine the wound. “ Honestly, you’re a real dummy, aren’t you? First off, those are called weapons. Also, wait here. You need to have this sort of injuries cleaned or you’ll get an infection.” Swiftly, he got away from her, nearing the exit from the tent. “ What are infections?” she called after him. “ Later!”

She did not understand wars, the concept being somewhat counterproductive in her mind - if humanity flourished in times of peace, while cooperating, then why bother with all the infighting? However, she would have lied if she said it didn’t fascinate her - although perhaps, for very different reasons than most people.

Initially, she just stood all day at the edge of the camp, forcing her eyes to notice something, just anything. Yet, as time passed, she deemed it not enough, instead changing into a hawk.

Everyday, she turned into the bird and flew over the battlefield, observing it tirelessly, as if she was looking for a key to solving a riddle. She would depart soon after the soldiers set off, returning just before they did - she suspected Yukimura wouldn’t be too happy, had he known what she was doing.

One day, while soaring above the scene of horrors, a horrid scene unravelled below her.

Yukimura struggled, the enemy soldiers having managed to separate him from his troops. Alike to force of nature, he swung the spear, the scrape of metal filling the air. He struggled like a wild animal forced into the corner by hunters, the blades threatening to slash his flesh at any moment.

A soldier prepared himself to attack him from the back, the blade severing the air mere seconds later.

She took a dive, screaming violently. With full impact of her body, she attacked the soldier, clawing at his unprotected face. She flew up again, just to return, terrorizing the enemy.

A hell broke loose, as she created an opening just big enough for Yukimura to escape and reunite with his men. However, she became a target as well, a stray arrow grazing her leg.

Pain of that kind was a somewhat new sensation to her, clouding her senses - perhaps the cut was deeper than she thought, a warm liquid dripping from it eagerly.

She barely managed to reach his tent, crashing into the ground and losing consciousness immediately.

Everything turned into nothingness again - was that death? She had no clue. Where did she end and the universe began? She didn’t know anymore, until warm hands made the split easily distinguishable. She remembered something, she remembered what - no, who - she was.

She awoke a day or so later, the clouds moving above her head at an astounding pace, at the very least for a windless day. Confused, she tried to get up, just for a man sitting next to her to stop her. “ Rest,” Yuki demanded. “ Where are we?” “ We’re on a cart. We’ll reach Kasugayama castle in a couple of days.” Having been calmed down, she fell into a peaceful slumber.

Months passed, as she served as a maid. That life was not something she had ever envisioned for herself. The first days were hard, the nature of her injury being foreign to her to say the least. She strained her leg, causing the cut to open over and over again - yet, to her surprise, Yukimura seemed to always be by her side, to support her and help her out. In her free time, she sought his company, oftentimes just to tease him and let herself be teased. In time, she learnt of the name of that very particular emotion she felt was.

“ Yuki, are you free now?” she asked, peaking into his room. He looked up at her, still dressed in his sleeping clothes. “ Don’t you have something better to do first thing in the morning, dummy?” “ Come on, I need you just for a second.” “ Then what is it?” “ Not here, you boar man.”

They bickered back and forward, until he finally asked her to leave the room, so that he could get dressed for the day.

As per her request, they went for a walk, the tree leaves rustling ever so slightly, the delicate gusts of wind playing hide and seek in them. Yukimura held her hand, not saying a single word, as she led him forward. “ I think I have an answer to your question, Yuki,” she trilled. “ Huh? When did I ask you any questions? You’re the one who’s always looking into every tiny hole.” “ But you did, when I grew a snout. Remember now?” “ You could have not reminded me, you know?” She laughed at the remark, seeing the image bothering him. “ Well, you see, I kinda have an answer now. If humans are defined words, I am one without a definition. But, with that being said, I also have another thing that I am.” She smiled sweetly at him, as they stopped. He turned towards her. “ I don’t think you need to say this one out loud,” he murmured, leaning down to meet her lips.

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu, @missjudge-me If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

#yukimura sanada #ikesen yukimura #ikemen sengoku yukimura #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen series #my ff #my hc

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years

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OUAT 2X13 - Tiny

Hey, reader! Your TINY-ing couldn’t be better to check out my latest review! XD

Yeah, not my best pun, but it’s not too GIANT of a misstep! XD

COMEBACK!

Now go under the cut and read my review!

Press Release

Kidnapped and brought to Storybrooke by Cora, the Giant unleashes his vengeance on the town when a case of mistaken identity leads him to try and settle an old score with David; Mr. Gold, accompanied by Emma and Henry, attempts to depart Storybrooke - hoping to keep his memory intact when he crosses the town line – and heads to the airport in search of his son Bae; and Greg (Ethan Embry) questions Belle as to what she saw on the night of his car accident. Meanwhile, in the fairytale land that was and against his brothers’ wishes, Anton, the Giant, climbs down the beanstalk and attempts to befriend some humans - whose intentions may not be so noble. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past I really like the conflict in this episode and how it relates to the present later on. We clearly know the outcome of Anton’s voyage to the human world, but Anton never feels like he’s being foolish in this flashback. Anton’s research, kind heart, and inquisitive nature are not being satisfied (And as often implied, even mocked and bullied) by his siblings. But, in that same token, they are not completely cast as bad either. Anton clearly cares for them, and his oldest sibling is shown to be wise in many ways and it’s his lesson of seeking another land that proves to be the key to Anton’s eventual happiness and livelihood in the present.

James’ and Jack’s plan is a great one. That plotting is devious. The staging of it all was well done enough that it doesn’t feel contrived, but understanding of the kind of person Anton is and malleable enough account for missteps. Just go back and watch the bar scene. James has his outburst at the guard just loud enough so that Anton hears him, and of course, Anton, the curious guy that he is, would ask about why. Jack just happens to bring up the subject of beans and while Anton can’t help her in that regard, what else are giants known for? Their treasure, something Anton can be far more generous with. And give him enough motivation and he’ll go right over there with the bare minimum security. It’s honestly one of the best and most underrated evil plans on the show. It’s simple, but intelligently suited to its victim. Present I love the Storybrooke section of this episode! Anton, while the antagonist in this segment to David’s protagonist story, is never made to be a bad guy because the entire time we’re with him attacking, we’re aware of his plight. Because of that, we want him to pull through and get along with everyone and the episode gives that emotional payoff while still ensuring that Anton does learn his lesson about humans. David is in his best form throughout the episode, kind and compassionate but not without his limits and Snow acts as a great source of support and friendship while Leroy rounds out the trio with his comedy and everyman presence in town (And later on, surprising amount of heart).

It’s so great to see the people of Storybrooke acting as a unit again during the rescue and aftermath of Anton. It reminds me of the efforts made in episodes like “A Still Small Voice” and it fits into the story well as a bulk of humans are able to prove themselves to Anton at once.

Also, let’s talk about the airport scenes, but it helps make this episode so memorable. The security scene is both so hysterical at first and so tense and terrifying once the shawl comes off, even after the safe resolution. That having been said, I will say, I wish things were a little bit clearer as to why Rumple was freaking out even after he retained his memories. I can’t help but feel like they were almost going to go for a different angle like actually having Rumple at one point revert to his cursed self (Note how Rumple places so much emphasis on how important it was for him to keep his true identity), but it was abandoned. Otherwise, what was the purpose of the freakouts because we only got a few seconds of waviness as he was crossing through security before getting the shawl back? I like the idea of Rumple freaking out over not having his magic for the first time since the curse broke and realizing that his mortality is back, but what brought it on and how it was handled was weird. All Encompassing This segment is also notable in the fact that not only is it Anton’s first and only centric, but it is the first time that we really see the distinctions between David and James. Before, we saw a bit of James before his death, but while bits of him can be understood with the aid of hindsight, but this is where the character was truly defined for the first time. Whereas David so often acts for the betterment of his people and even those who oppose him (to the point where he attempts to sacrifice himself for Storybrooke’s safety and then later endangers himself for Anton’s sake), James is only interested in himself and won’t lift so much as a finger to help someone if it puts him in danger. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -”I think layers are always a good idea!” Nice subtle showing of Mama Swan! -I don’t know why, but it cracks me up how Rumple’s covering the expenses of their trip! XD Charming summed it up best: “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?” -”This isn’t a threat, it’s a request. Take care of them.” Aww! I love that extra bit of Sheep Bros! And Rumple actually responds to it! -I like also how Rumple’s being much more overt to Emma and co about who it is he’s looking for. I’m going to call that a slight development in his emotional honesty. -David, I am with Snow. That holster looks great on you! -Regina needs to join the Storybrooke acting troupe alongside Killian, Cora, and Rumple. Actually, someone make a fic out of this! Please? -”And we’re sorry.” I love how Snow completely follows through on her resolve from the previous episode. -First Captain Charming scene! Yayyyyy!! Honestly, it’s just as perfect as I’d hoped it would be! -Not gonna lie, I don’t even think it’s a shipping thing, but seeing Killian flirt with Snow like he does by the cops doesn’t flow with me at all. It’s just creepy, and I feel bad saying that, but it just is for me. -I never realized before that The Jolly Roger is made from Enchanted Wood. That’s pretty cool! -Anton is an adorable little bean! -I just realized: Now that the realms are merged, is Anton essentially out of a job, or are the beans the equivalent of teleportation now? Like, if I want to visit Elsa from Granny’s, can I just throw a bean and be right there? And if so, then Anton is now a multi-millionaire and I just couldn’t be happier for the guy! -Watching this flashback makes me hate the flashback in “Flower Child” so forking much. Everything that is done wrong there is done right here. -Holy shirt! Anton can punch! Like, get him on the main team! -The set up of the mystery of why Anton hates David is a very well done one for as brief as it is. It gives the audience a moment to establish how Emma’s actions have shown Anton that some humans aren’t evil as well as the fact that Anton isn’t a bad guy, but showing a clear snapping point for him. -Red Beauty! Yayyyyyy! -Hospital staff: It’s probably not a great idea to have “Good Morning Storybrooke” playing when you have two patients who aren’t supposed to know about magic. -Awww! Ruby loves books too, and reads from Belle’s favorite author! She’s just too sweet! -”Why does everyone keep calling me that?” ...Because it’s your name and you haven’t said anything along the lines of “my name is Lacey.” Introduce yourself! -James just has no shame! He’s about to have sex, his dad comes in, and he’s practically about to continue on! -I feel so bad for Anton! He so has a crush on Jack, and Jack’s just...well, not the worst, but definitely in the top 50 worst. -”How terribly uncivilized.” Rumple, you used to live in a world without indoor plumbing. You’re one to talk! -”Have you ever been on a plane before?” Have you ever been impaled upon a cane before?” That is forking hysterical and will never not be! XD -”You father?” Rumple, you are close to a century older than Emma! Yeah, you could be her dad! XD -Has anyone ever commented on how there’s literally no reason for the shawl to go into the bin. It’s not metal. Am I missing something here? -I want that roasted pig so badly! -”You’re human. I hate humans.” Part of me is thrown a little off base with this line. On one hand, Anton does what humans, but when David, Snow, and Leroy found him, he was more relaxed. However, I’m willing to waive it off to him getting his bearings upon waking up in a strange land. -Oh, shirt! Rumple can’t heal himself! BLOODY HELL! XD -That light is so unflattering for Robert right in the bathroom scene. -The entire conversation between Anton, David, and Snow concerning Emma and James is hysterical. As far as miscommunication scenarios go on this show, this is one of the best. And the follow up conversation between David, Snow, and Leroy over David’s name is equally so! XD -Don’t worry, Anton! Just HOLE-d on! XD -Awww! Look at Anton learning how to use a pickaxe! Anton, never change! Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Regina’s Redemption - It is so hard to watch as Regina double crosses everyone in this episode. I don’t think it’s poorly done, and MM and David’s lines about not needing Regina’s say about Henry make the betrayal a well set up ad effective one. It builds well off of the last couple of episodes and while a touch accelerated around this part, I do think that the overall pacing works here. The People of Storybrooke Going Home - So this arc was really introduced during “The Cricket Game,” I believe. So far, I’m not sure how well it’s being set up, but I will say that this is the clearest the the arc itself has been defined since its inception. Favorite Dynamic David and Anton - David’s interactions with Anton are a true testament to his kindness and leadership abilities. Anton punches him in the face and refuses to cooperate with any attempts David makes to reason with him and yet David simply doesn’t give up on helping him the right way because of who he is. Additionally, how he rallies the entire town together for that same cause is inspiring. He knows the damage his “father” did and he wants those affected by him in any way (even through his progeny) to be helped, no matter what it takes. And on Anton’s side, just like with Emma, he’s receptive to that kindness and the belief in David doesn’t come from just simple information or evidence, but from David’s straight-up actions of offering himself up as a sacrifice and later saving him, and that’s so amazing! Writer Christine Boylan and Kalinda Vazquez are “Tiny’s” writers, and this is a great team up. The pacing of this episode feels very good, moving so that things aren’t rushed, but the stories remain flowing. Additionally, the framing of the writing is quite intricate, careful to not make anyone a bad guy but to also direct the sympathy where it is deserved. Additionally, the manner of Anton’s forgiveness (Both to him and from him) is expertly handled through the actions of the entire town saving Anton from the hole and him helping everyone grow beans. Rating 10/10. I love this episode’s story. Anton is a likable and layered character to follow and his journey with Ruth’s twins across the two timelines is equally layered. The story itself is very lowkey in comparison to some of our previous episodes, and it’s a welcome change of pace! It’s a super simple, yet quite detailed character story that allows for a lot to be done with James, Snow, Charming, and Leroy’s characters. Seeing all of these characters build off one another is what Once Upon a Time does best and the hearty story makes it all the better. While I didn’t find the storytelling at the airport to be as airtight (pun always intended) as the other segments (Ergo, why this isn’t a Golden Apple), the scenes on their own can be super entertaining (Especially EVERYTHING with Rumple in the first half of the security scene). Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Snowing - It’s just really nice seeing Snow and David working together! They’re so supportive and protective of each other, ranging from hugs to verbally helping each other during discussions with Anton, Hook, and each other over the differences between David and James. Snow and Charming are always expressing their love in some way, and it’s so subtly heartwarming. And hearing Snow talk about how she had fun today and missed their little adventures as she dances around him and the sidewalk is just great! Grumpy Giant - Freakin’ hollythecurious got me into the swing of this ship, and I love it and her for introducing it to me! XD Look at Grumpy’s adoring looks as he helps Anton get settled in to life in Storybrooke and how forward he is with his assistance. This is Grumpy we’re talking about and he’s rarely as likely to take the initiative in regards to introducing people to the town. And dammit, it’s so cute! Hell, he even moves the dwarves’ entire workforce to help Anton grow beans and calls them “our crop!” ()()()()()()()()() Thanks for reading and to the fine and fantastic folks at @watchingfairytales for their continued support and the project!

Wow! this season’s going great, but wow am I tired! Writing these long ash reviews is exhausting! You know what I could use? A drink. How about a Manhattan? ;)

See you next time.

Season 2 Tally (114/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (29/60) Jane Espenson (25/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (24/50) David Goodman (16/30) Robert Hull (16/30) Christine Boylan (17/30) Kalinda Vazquez (20/30) Daniel Thomsen (10/20)

Operation Rewatch Archives

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 2x13 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat

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garywonghc · 7 years

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Compassion as the Source of Happiness

by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

THE PURPOSE OF LIFE IS TO STRIVE FOR HAPPINESS

We are here; we exist and we have the right to exist. Even non-sentient beings like flowers have the right to exist. If negative force is exerted against them, then, on a chemical level, flowers repair themselves to survive. But more than that, we human beings including insects, even amoebas, the smallest beings are considered sentient beings. And as sentient beings, we have even more mechanisms to help us survive.

Things that can move under their own will or desire, that’s what a “sentient being” means, according to the discussions that I’ve had with scientists. “Sentient” doesn’t necessarily mean being conscious or being human on a conscious level. Actually it’s difficult to define what “consciousness” or “conscious” means. Usually it means the clearest aspect of the mind, but then, is it that there is no consciousness when we are semiconscious or unconscious? Do insects have it? Maybe it’s better to speak of “cognitive faculty” rather than consciousness.

In any case, the main point that we are referring to here by cognitive faculty is the ability to experience feelings: pain, pleasure, or neutral feelings. Actually, pleasure and pain, and happiness and unhappiness, are things that we need to examine in more depth. For example, every sentient being has the right to survive and, for survival, this means having a desire for happiness or comfort: that’s why sentient beings strive to survive. Therefore, our survival is based on hope – hope for something good: happiness. Because of that, I always conclude that the purpose of life is happiness. With hope and a happy feeling, our body feels well. Therefore, hope and happiness are positive factors for our health. Health depends on a happy state of mind.

Anger, on the other hand, is based on a sense of insecurity and brings us fear. When we encounter something good, we feel safe. When something threatens us, we feel insecure and then we become angry. Anger is a part of the mind that defends itself from what harms our survival. But anger itself makes us feel bad and so, ultimately, it is bad for our health.

Attachment is an element that is helpful for survival. So, even a plant, without any conscious element, still has some chemical aspect that causes it to protect itself and helps its growth. Our body, on a physical level, is the same. But, as humans, our body also has a positive element on the emotional level that brings us to have attachment to someone or attachment to our own happiness. Anger, on other hand, with its element of causing harm, pushes us away from things including happiness. On a physical level, the pleasure that happiness brings is good for the body; while anger and the unhappiness it causes is harmful. Therefore, from the perspective of the pursuit of survival, the purpose of life is to have a happy life.

This is the basic human level that I am speaking about; I am not speaking about the religious, secondary level. On the religious level, of course there are different explanations of the purpose of life. The secondary aspect is actually quite complicated; therefore, it is better to talk just on the basic human level.

WHAT IS HAPPINESS?

Since our goal and the purpose of life is happiness, what is happiness? Sometimes physical suffering can even bring a deeper sense of satisfaction like with an athlete after a grueling workout. So “happiness” means mainly a sense of deep satisfaction. The object of life or our goal, then, is satisfaction.

Happiness, sadness or suffering – for these, there are two levels: a sensorial level and a mental level. The sensorial level is common with tiny mammals, even insects – a fly. In a cold climate, when the sun comes out, a fly shows a happy aspect: it flies around nicely. In a cold room, it slows down: it shows a sign of sadness. But, if there is a sophisticated brain, then there is even a stronger sense of sensorial pleasure. In addition, though, our sophisticated brain is the largest in size and, therefore, we also have intelligence.

Consider the case of humans who feel no physical threats. They have a happy, comfortable life, good friends, salary, and name. But, even then, we notice that some millionaires, for example – they feel that they are an important part of society, but often these people as persons are very unhappy persons. On a few occasions I have met very rich, influential people who showed a very troubled sense that, deep inside, they had a feeling of loneliness, stress and worry. So, on the mental level, they have suffering.

We have a marvelous intelligence, so the mental level of our experience is more dominant than is the physical level. Physical pain can be minimized or subdued by it. As a small example, some time ago I developed a serious illness. It was very painful in my intestines. At that time, I was in Bihar, the poorest state of India and I passed through Bodh Gaya and Nalanda. There, I saw many very poor children. They were collecting cow dung. They had no education facilities and I felt very sad. Then, near Patna, the capital of the state, I had a lot of pain and sweating. I noticed one old sick person, one sick man, wearing white cloth, very, very dirty. No one was taking care of that person; it was really very sad. That night in my hotel room, my physical pain was very severe, but my mind was thinking of those children and that old man. That concern greatly reduced my physical pain.

Take for example those who train for the Olympic Games. They do very vigorous training, and no matter how much pain and hardship they experience, on the mental level they have happiness. Therefore, the mental level is more important than physical experience. Therefore, what is really important in life is happiness and satisfaction.

THE CAUSES OF HAPPINESS

Now, what are the causes of happiness? I think that since this body element goes well with a calm mind, not with a disturbed mind, therefore a calm mind is very important. It doesn’t matter our physical situation, mental calmness is most important. So, how can we bring about a calm mind?

Now, to get rid of all problems, that would be impractical; and to make the mind dull and forget about our problems, that doesn’t work either. We have to look clearly at our problems and deal with them, but at the same time keep a calm mind so that we have a realistic attitude and we are able to treat them well, deal with them well.

As for those who take tranquillizers – well, I have no experience. I don’t know if, at the time when people take tranquillizers, their intelligence is sharp or dull; I have to ask. For example, in 1959, when I was in Mussoorie, my mother or maybe it was somebody else was disturbed and had a lot of anxiety: the sleep was disturbed. The doctor explained that there were some drugs that they could take, but this would make the mind a little dull. I thought at that time that that’s not good. On one side, you have a little calmness of mind, but on the other side, if the effect is dullness, this is no good. I prefer another way. I prefer having the intelligence fully functional and attentive and alert, but not disturbed. Undisturbed mental calmness is best.

For this, compassionate human affection is really important: the more compassionate our mind is, the better our brain functions. If our mind develops fear and anger, then when that happens, our brain functions more poorly. On one occasion I met a scientist who was over eighty years old. He gave me one of his books. I think it was called We Are Prisoners of Anger, something like that. While discussing his experience, he said that when we develop anger toward an object, the object appears very negatively. But ninety per cent of that negativeness is in our mental projection. This was from his own experience.

Buddhism says the same. When negative emotion develops, we can’t see reality. When we need to make a decision and the mind is dominated by anger; then chances are, we will make the wrong decision. No one wants to make a wrong decision, but at that moment, the part of our intelligence and brain that functions to differentiate right from wrong and make the best decision, that works very poorly. Even great leaders experience it like that.

Therefore, compassion and affection help the brain to function more smoothly.

Secondarily, compassion gives us inner strength; it gives us self-confidence and that reduces fear, which, in turn, keeps our mind calm. Therefore, compassion has two functions: it causes our brain to function better and it brings inner strength. These, then, are the causes of happiness. I feel it is like that.

Now other faculties, of course, are also good for happiness. Everybody likes money, for example. If we have money, then we can enjoy good facilities. Usually, we consider these the topmost important things, but I think it’s not like that. Material comfort can come through physical effort, but mental comfort has to come through mental effort. If we go to a shop and offer money to the shopkeeper and say that we want to buy peace of mind, they will say they have nothing to sell. Many shopkeepers will feel that this is something mad and they will laugh at us. Some injection or pill can maybe bring temporary happiness or calmness of mind, but not at the fullest level. We can see with the example of counseling that we need to tackle emotions through discussion and reasoning. Thus, we must use a mental approach. Therefore whenever I give talks, I say that we modern people think too much of external development. If we pay attention only to that level, that’s not enough. Genuine happiness and satisfaction must come from within.

The basic elements for that are compassion and human affection, and these come from biology. As an infant, our survival depends solely on affection. If affection is there, we feel safe. If it’s not there, we feel anxiety and insecure. If we become separated from our mother, we cry. If we are in our mother’s arms and held tight, warmly, then we feel happy and we’re quiet. As a baby, this is a biological factor. One scientist for instance, my teacher, a biologist who is involved with anti-nuclear violence – he told me that after birth, a mother’s physical touch for several weeks is very important for enlarging the baby’s brain and development. It brings a feeling of safety and comfort and this leads to proper development of physical growth, including the brain.

So, the seed of compassion and affection is not something that comes from religion: it comes from biology. We each came from our mother’s womb and each of us survived due to our mother’s care and affection. In the Indian tradition, we consider birth from a lotus in a pure land. That sounds very nice, but perhaps the people there have more affection for lotuses than for people. So being born from a mother’s womb is better. Then we are already equipped with the seed of compassion. So, those are the causes of happiness.

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beatrixedercoaching · 4 years

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Your Daily Word Of Inclusiveness | Beatrix Eder Coaching

How to speak an inclusive language

Recently I conducted a brief poll on LinkedIn (https://lnkd.in/gTDaKPs) asking the professional community what they experience as their biggest challenge to implementing Inclusive Leadership.

First of all, I want to thank all the people who have taken a moment to participate and many of them continued the conversation in public comments and private messages.

Challenges to practicing Inclusive Leadership

The intention of the poll was to see the overall perception and get a sense of what makes it difficult for people to practice inclusiveness. Most people today are exposed to working with others across differences of gender, race, generation, language, culture, beliefs and personal orientations. Many of the multinational organizations are convinced that diversity is not just political correctness but a business imperative and many have defined concrete goals around diversity such as having more women in leadership positions, reviewing practices around hiring people from a more diverse pool of talent or decrease pay disparities.

The poll gave four options as main obstacles to implementing Inclusive Leadership:

No alignment with business strategy

Not embedded in daily actions

Lacking accountability

Recognizing subtle bias

Embedding inclusive practices in daily actions

The biggest difficulty appears to be around embedding inclusive practices in daily actions followed by recognizing subtle bias.

The reason for this is that among the well-meaning company policies and intentions of creating an inclusive workplace, there is little cohesion on how this should look in daily actions between employees. Taking a closer look, it becomes clear that most people have only a vague idea what inclusiveness means, how we can recognize it and how we experience it.

Having a clear definition around concepts shows what is truly important about the concept and allows for a common understanding by many people. Only when an organization is able to make a statement about the fundamental nature of “inclusiveness”, are they able to measure it, incentivize it and build it into the corporate culture at all hierarchical levels.

How can we expect people to practice something consistently if there are vague or different definitions of what they should be doing?

Inclusiveness: leverage the diversity of the group

Being inclusive means effectively working, communicating and building relationships with people across differences in regards to gender, generation, race, language, religion / beliefs, sexual orientation and abilities. Being inclusive means seeing these differences as valuable qualities of each individual’s identity and giving each individual the same opportunities. Inclusive leadership involves inviting different people, engaging everyone to participate, listening to their views and valuing the differences.

Inclusive leaders direct, guide and influence people in a more curious, collaborative, creative and compassionate way in order to leverage the diversity of the group and achieve a common goal with more creativity and effectiveness.

Diversity is the metric. Inclusion is the mechanism. Engagement is the feeling.

Practicing a few habits consciously, consistently and in a way that is observable to others makes you the inclusive leader that you are and aspire to be. As a general attitude, you can

proactively seek out others different from yourself,

learn about their perspectives with genuine curiosity

value differences and consider how each of these differences help finding better solutions.

Creating such an environment helps that people feel accepted, welcome, heard and valued - and this is the felt experience of inclusion. The result of this felt experience is engagement, which means that people are emotionally connected to the workplace and the coworkers. Engagement is what drives people to give their best and keeps them loyal to the company.

As with most things, being inclusive becomes easier with ongoing practice. For this, people need

Information to continuously educate themselves on notions around their cultural blueprint, their relationship to power / rank / privilege and competencies how these differences can be bridged in a way that is enriching

Awareness of themselves as individuals and as players in their social environment

Commitment to be deliberate in their choices and courageous in their actions.

Acts of micro-inclusion

If you want to bridge the gap between inclusion as rhetoric and concrete actions, you need to open your eyes and ears to situations where differences show up. Each one of us encounters these situations several times a day, so there are plenty of opportunities to practice. When you go about your day with an attitude of curiosity and compassion, observing situations not only from your own perspective but that of people different from you, you will recognize many occasions that wait for you to show up as the inclusive leader you already are and want to be perceived as.

We call these tiny acts of inclusiveness micro-inclusion. Micro-inclusions are the opposite of isolation: they are deliberate acts of connecting with our common humanity, remembering that each one of us has feelings of inadequacy and disappointment. It is the understanding that despite our individual and unique qualities, something connects us and that we all belong to a system that is beyond our individual projects and goals.

6 tips for practicing inclusive language

So what are concrete examples of practicing inclusiveness at work? How can you widen the circle and invite more people inside?

Let’s start with inclusive language. We speak all day and there are several scientific studies that show the impact of the language we use on our thoughts. Words are not just labels but they reveal our perspective. Words have power and they influence our actions – and over time our culture.

Here are 5 tips on how to consciously choose your words to help others feel accepted, welcome, heard and valued.

1) Gender-neutral language

It probably happened at least once or twice that you have addressed your team with “guys”, even though it was a mixed group with women, men and maybe even non-binary people. Using gendered language can exclude those people who do not identify as the gendered expression you have used. A better alternative is to say “Hey, team / everyone / friends / folks”.

2) Alternative pronouns

We tend to use “he /his” as generic pronouns which implicitly tells us that the person referred to is a male. In English, you can use “they / their” as singular generic pronoun to show that all people are included, independently of their gender or identity. Example: Instead of “Each employee is welcome to share his or her thoughts” you can say “Each employee is welcome to share their thoughts”.

3) Simple vocabulary and clear pronunciation when speaking with non-native speakers

When you are a native English speaker and you speak with people whose mother tongue is not English, remember to use common words and avoid idioms or your local slang. I still remember how difficult it was for me the first time I worked with an Australian manager: not only did I have real trouble understanding his accent; he also used words that I had no idea of what they meant. One day he gave me directions to go to a client and said that at a certain street I have to take a “chuck a uey”…. A what? As I learned, “chuck a uey” in Australian means a U-turn!

4) Be conscious about how you qualify people based on their gender

Often, people will attribute different adjectives when they describe the same behavior of a man or a woman. Common examples are being assertive (man) versus bossy (woman), passionate (man) versus hysterical (woman) or empathetic (man) vs emotional (woman), persuasive (man) vs argumentative (woman).

When you describe another person’s behavior or attitude –especially when you perceive it as negative - check in with yourself: Would you use the same word if it was the other gender?

5) Avoid stereotypes, even positive ones

Sometimes people think they are saying a compliment and forget that what they actually voice is a stereotype, generalizing a group of people.

Common examples:

“Women have a natural mothering instinct and are more caring”

“Asians are good at math and science”

“Gay people are generally more sensitive, open-minded and creative”

All these expressions paint a caricature of the person to whom we are referring. When you speak, check-in with yourself if the words you are using have an “all” or “no one” perspective.

6) Avoid words with a negative or passive meaning

Sometimes we use unconsciously words that describe another person as weak. Sometimes we use these expressions to show our compassion. And yet, it is more inclusive and respectful to use neutral or positive words.

Examples:

Instead of “X is suffering from [illness]” say “X has [illness]”

Saying that “X is fighting [illness]” implies that the illness is something that has to conquered and annihilated and people having a specific illness might hear an underlying opinion that they have the illness because they did not fight hard enough / were not strong enough.

Instead of “X was victim of an accident” say “X had an accident”

Use language to include and empower others

The language we speak will give cues about our perspectives and opinions and will influence our relationships with others. Furthermore, using an inclusive language shows our willingness to connect with others on a human level, understand their individual situation and feel for them.

Speaking an inclusive language is an ongoing journey with situations in which we will all make mistakes. As an inclusive leader, own your mistakes and commit to understanding how the background of another person shapes their experience and that we can have a very different interpretation of the same situation.

Will you consciously choose your words to include and empower others?

Will you use at least three times inclusive language at your workplace today?

#Parental Transitions Coaching #Transformational coach Singapore #life coach singapore

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apprendrelacoeur · 7 years

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well it certainly has been a while. i was just thinking that while i’m on this plane & have a moment to spare...i might as well catch up on my own thoughts, especially since 2017 is ending soon & i haven’t really taken much to this blog in 2017.

i think...2017 was one of the hardest years in terms of work. school work, internship work, freelance work. i was very busy this year trying to figure out my life after college while writing a thesis. i graduated from undergrad & i started making income--albeit very small income. i learned how to write an invoice & also learned a shitton about finances in honestly less than a year. i went apartment hunting (incredibly stressful experience for several reasons). i started reading more--more than i ever did in college. & i actually really enjoy shopping for books now. i also started to realize when i don’t need to spend money, & where i don’t need to spend money.

not really sure how to structure this post, but i suppose the easiest way would be to just go backwards.

i spent christmas with my family & we went to hawaii. while i was in hawaii, i got a full time job offer. it was one of the heaviest moments of relief i’ve ever felt. i’ve been job searching for so long, & while i knew i would eventually get one, i was getting really restless & impatient...& honestly a little worried that maybe i won’t unless i look at other positions & responsibilities. but i’m so fucking glad i finally have a job. with a company i love working with doing work that i love doing in an office/building i love being in. i may be bottom bitch but getting a permanent position at this company is just one step towards one day not being bottom bitch.

moving onto a different topic. earlier today while i was waiting at the gate, i read The Dalai Lama’s “An Appeal to the World”. the book is tiny, but i didn’t expect to finish it in one sitting--less than one hour to be exact. that makes it the second book i’ve read by His Holiness (the first one being “The Universe in a Single Atom: The Convergence of Science and Spirituality”). before that, while on vacation, i finished reading bubzbeauty’s book too, “A Beautiful Mind, A Beautiful Life: The Bubz Guide to Being Unstoppable”. her book was such an easy read. it just felt like watching one of her videos---albeit a really long video. but what bubz’s book & BOTH of His Holiness’ books have reminded me & taught me is to be kind & be patient. & it brought me back to a lot of the things i talked about a lot when this blog first started.

the world is so much bigger than me. sure there are moments where it might feel like the world is a small place but in the end, we are nothing. we are absolutely nothing on this minor planet, orbiting a very average star in one among a hundred billion galaxies. but because we are nothing, & because our world is so much bigger than who we are, we have to make every second count. every second gone is a second that will never be had again. being kind, understanding, patient, empathetic, & compassionate make this shitty world so much more bearable---for everyone.

i have always known that i am a pacifist. i hate war. i hate violence--even something as small scale as a fight after school or something. i hate it all. i truly truly want everyone to get along, because in the end we are one in the same. though our personalities, temperaments, likes & dislikes differ vastly from person to person, at a biological, basic level we are all the same. the only thing that separates us is the land we live on. for me, race means nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. religion means nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. humans are born innately good & kind. but humans are the only species that go to war with each other. humans are the only species that will kill one another simply because of a disagreement in religious ideology or government philosophy.

i fucking hate it. i hate how ignorant & cruel & greedy & narrow-minded some humans can be. this is not the type of world i want our generation’s kids to grow up in---the type that teaches them it’s ok to shoot someone because God told them to or that it’s ok to ban an entire group of religious people from refuge & salvation just because some who subscribe to that same religion have violent tendencies.

one thing The Dalai Lama spoke about a lot in both of the books i read is that change must begin at the beginning: education. he says that schools must begin to teach education of the heart, secular ethics, & morals. it is not enough to educate our brains. we must educate our hearts as well. we must teach our children to be compassionate, understanding, patient, & respectful of all human beings. His Holiness said that he thinks the world would be better off without people, & i absolutely agree. i would have no problem dying if it meant this earth was rid of war-mongering people. but back to the education of the heart, many people today need to realize they must grow their hearts to be more compassionate as well. if people would just take the time to understand their nieghbours & their enemies more, the world would be a much better place. The Dalai Lama says is, “i don’t have enemies, just people I don’t know yet.” y e s. he doesn’t hate the Chinese government for their “genocide” in Tibet. he doesn’t hate the Chinese government for driving him into exile for 58 years & counting. he doesn’t hate the Chinese government for wanting to decide who the next Dalai Lama would be. he respects the Chinese government & is very hopeful of peace between China & Tibet in the future.

i find that so wonderful. it is so easy to succumb to feelings of hatred, frustration, judgment, prejudice, & cynicism. an interviewer once asked the Dalai Lama why he doesn’t hate the Chinese government. He asked why he should be upset. He said that if he did get upset, he’d just have to calm down eventually & that’s much too exhausting. & he is absolutely right. i have always prided myself on not being an angry person. i don’t get angry very often, & when i do get angry, it doesn’t last long because it takes out all of my energy. after awhile i just decide to forgive because i’m tired. & i know there are plenty of other people out there like this too. but if we all just decided to not succumb to our feelings of anger in the first place, & chose to stay positive, imagine how much less exhausted we would feel.

now that was weird for me to type: “stay positive”. i’ve always been against optimism & “staying positive” because i felt like people who were optimistic or too positive were naive & fooling themselves of reality. i preferred to preach pragmatism. i preferred to preach practical hope: keeping hope alive in your heart but still accepting & knowing that shit will happen---more often than not. well that’s another thing that i wanted to talk about in this post. bubzbeauty is an incredibly optimistic person, & it did bother me in the past. but after reading her book, i do feel inspired to be more optimistic, but it’s not blind optimism. i think i’ve come up with my own definition of optimism that i can live with. i don’t know if this definition is already out there, but it’s something that i’ve come to realize on my own & so for now i will call it my own. i’d like to think that it’s the happy medium between optimism & pragmatism.

how i define myself being an optimistic pragmatist (or pragmatic optimist) is accepting life’s downfalls---sometimes even welcoming them, because i am well aware of their existence. i know life is about the highs & lows that happen in succession. i know i will have bad days--relapse days. i know i will have manic days. i know i will have suicidal days. but i also know that i will have ok days, gr8 days, & truly gr8 days. i know i will have days that make me feel grateful to be alive, & motivate me to stay alive. i know i will have days that i don’t want to end because they’re so gr8. i know i will have a balance of both in my life, because the universe is all about balance. but no matter what kind of day i’m having, i have to believe that things will be good for me in the end. i have to trust that the universe is taking me to where i belong. i have to remind myself that things could always be worse---not just for me but for everyone else in the world.

while i’m having a gr8 day, i have to be extra grateful for it because someone in the world is having a horrible day, & i’m lucky to be alive & smiling, with shelter & food available to me whenever i so please. while i’m having a shitty day, i have to be grateful that i am at least no longer numb to the world & to life, that i can at least feel something & still have shelter & food available to me whenever i so please---because someone else in the world does not. & to add onto all of that, if someone disrespects me in public, or responds to me rudely, or behaves in a way that i don’t agree with, i must try to remain calm & refrain from judgment. i don’t know what that person is going through & i have no right judge them for having lower character than i do just because we’re different.

the latter half of 2017 is when i really began to realize just how meaningless my life is. i don’t mean that in a self-deprecating way. what i mean is...i’ve always talked about how i’ve gone through so much shit & how it’s hardened me over the years. but honestly...who the fuck cares. in the end, the shit i go through means nothing in the grand scheme of the universe. my hardships mean nothing to a stranger, mean nothing to my employer, mean nothing to my superintendent, mean nothing to my neighbours. i cannot walk around with self-pity cause it’s...honestly just not cool. i know there have been times where i was truly depressed, truly suicidal, & truly low beyond low. i’m not discrediting those times because those feelings were very real. but now it’s time for me to move forward & not think about the past so much.

one of my best friends once told me that he thinks the reason why i’m always so sad & disappointed in the world is because i continue to think about all the bad things that have happened to me in the past, & that since that’s all i’m focusing on, i miss the good things that happened to me in between. i’ve come to realize that he was right. i don’t even want to begin thinking about all the possible good times i missed because i was so focused on my past. now with my updated life philosophy, i find myself still thinking about the past, but in a more reminiscent way. i’m more focused the present. i think the time when i was most focused on the present was 2015, & i’m trying to get back to that. in between that time & now i lost it a little, but i’m working to get back there---or at least the 2018 equivalent.

despite these two authors & the three books though (which i recommend to EVERYONE by the way), the one person that has taught me above all else about patience & compassion is my boyfriend. i’m pretty sure he has no idea, but being with him for the past 18 months has really taught me more about patience & understanding. whenever we get into arguments, i find myself practicing mindfulness. i choose to not be petty & instead be straightforward with him about my feelings. instead of playing mind games, i’m honest. instead of getting frustrated at him immediately over something that may be nothing, i decide to breathe, be patient, & understand his situation better in order to be a kinder girlfriend. most recently, though, i’m learning to expect less of him--not because he’s been a disappointment but because it’s not fair to him that i do so. i think the biggest thing i took away from bubz’s book is an anecdote she wrote about a time when she was angry at her husband & venting to her older sister. bubz went on & on about how she felt like tim wasn’t putting in the same amount of effort as she was in taking care of their firstborn, & she resented him for it. her older sister was silent at first but then said, “lindy, you’re not disappointed in tim. you’re disappointed in your own expectations.” that really stuck with bubz, & it really stuck with me. it is not fair to get upset at my boyfriend for not doing something that i only expected him to do. he is not a mind reader & i should not expect him to be. i should also not get frustrated over his shortcomings & just appreciate & love him for who he is in my universe. actually, instead of saying i should expect less of him, it would be better to say that i should just not expect anything of him. that’s much better. because to me he is already perfect & for me to expect more of him is to be greedy.

so in summary, my 2018 spiritual resolutions are:

to stay kind

to stay patient

to stay understanding

to stay compassionate

to stay empathetic

to practice optimistic pragmatism or pragmatic optimism

anyways...as always this was longer than i intended it to be. you know what in the future i should just not care about whether or not the post is longer than i intend.

ok that’s added to the list of resolutions: don’t give a crap about how long my posts become & don’t apologize for it.

; e

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