#at this point i've mostly moved onto rage with this situation

[madegeeky]

Company whose advent calendar I bought back in fucking August and still don't have: Don't worry, it'll be shipped out this week and we guarantee you'll have it by 1 Dec.

The optimist in me: They still have 18ish hours. There's still time! :)

The pessimist in me: They only have 18 hours before its proven that they're liars. And those 18 hours are a Sat so the chance of them being sent out in the time frame they promised is incredibly unlikely. >:(

The part of me that wants to assume the best of people: This has all been an honest mistake. They really did think that they'd be shipped out at this point and they'll do their best to rectify the situation, like doing faster shipping or something.

The part of me that assumes the worst of people: They just straight up lied to my fucking face, multiple times at this point, and considering it took me four emails and asking to speak to a higher up to get any information out of them, they're definitely lying liars who lie all the time.

[kalivda]

Ghostly Visit (Gus Halper! Mischa Bachinski x Sister! Reader)

After the Cyclone incident, you get a visit from someone very familiar…warnings: angst, mentions of death

words: 1369

•••



The nightmares started after that fateful Monday. Waking up in a cold sweat wasn't the worst of it. However, it was the restless nights I spent alone in the cold dingy basement.

There used to be two people down here. Making the best out of a terrible situation. My adopted "parents" hated my brother and I. Despised us even. All because of our mom faking our ages. They didn't get the young children they wanted, but two rage and passion-filled Ukrainian twins.

The screeching of the rollercoaster was still in my ear. Watching the choir members fly off of the rollercoaster and falling to their impending dooms. A part of me feels glad I refused to get on the rollercoaster. But guilty my brother did.

I remember watching his body fly out of the rollercoaster and hit the concrete below. The screams of fair goers. The sickening crack each kid made after falling. It makes me want to-

I shot up from my sleep and ran to the tiny bathroom, vomiting my guts out in the toilet. Coughing a bit, I sat next to the it, sobbing my eyes out quietly. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to die? It should've been me. I should've went on the rollercoaster. I should've...

"Cестра (sister)?" A voice moved past my ears. "The hell..." I mutter, weakly standing on my feet.

"Do not freak out. It's me!" 'Is that...it can't be. Mischa's dead. Get it together, Y/n. You're being paranoid again.'

"Cестра?" The voice called out again, this time taking the shape of a boy. But sort of like a ghost. He was wearing a white button up with a sweater vest. I looked closely and noticed the St. Cassian's Chamber school logo.

"M-Mischa?" I asked, sniffling. "Who else would it be?" He asked, looking at me like I was dumb.

"W-wait...how is this...how is this happening?!" I almost yell, picking up the plunger near me as a weapon, my accent thickening."Really? You are going to fight me with a...." "Plunger!" I whisper-yell. "Right...a plunger? It wouldn't work. I'm a...ghost?"

Yep. That was Mischa alright. "Wait how are you even here right now? Talking to me? In our..."room"? Aren't you dead?" I asked him. "Yes! I am still dead. But a lot has happened. We met some fortune teller. And he knew you were my sister! I do not know how, but he did." I slowly nodded, hoping he would continue telling me this weird story.

"But now I guess...we're choosing someone to come back to life." He got quieter by the last part, but I heard him loud and clear. "Come back to life?! Mischa, that's so cool! Not to be biased or anything, but I think you should. You deserve it the most."

"And go back to that hellhole with our so-called "parents"? No thanks. I'd rather stay dead." My heart dropped at his sudden cold rage. "Mischa- what about Talia?" He stared at me and his face softened. "Talia...my divine Talia...I do not want to leave her, but I don't want the life I've had before."

"Mischa please! I can't keep doing this by myself! They hate me even more since the accident. Please..." I got choked up and was hiccuping over every little word at this point. "Y/n..." "I don't want to live anymore. Not if you aren't there! So PLEASE!" My voice broke and I began to sob quietly.

"соняшник (sunflower), listen to me. I need to do what's best for me. I'm fine with the 18 years I've spent with you. You need to find somewhere else to go. You need to find people that make you happy and find someone you love. Like how my shawty, Talia, and I do." I laughed a little at this comment.

"I truly love you. You were my best friend. My partner in crime. The only other person to leave me mostly positive reviews on my YouTube comment wall. I love you." Tears flowed from my eyes and fell onto my cheeks.

Little sparkles began to form it's way around my twin. "Mischa, what's happening?" I asked, concerned. "Ocean chose someone to live..." I almost jumped up, but contained myself. "And we're all passing onto the afterlife. Except for...I hear her name is Penny." He says. "Penny Lamb? Isn't that the one girl with the brother named Ezra?" I asked confused. "If that is who she is, then yes."

He sniffled a little. "Well this is the last time I think I will see you." A bittersweet smile came onto both of our faces. "I'll miss you, Mi." I said, my vision getting blurred from the tears. "You too, Y/n/n."

"Wait! Mischa, before you go...can you sing me that nursery rhyme that you sang to me all the time when we were younger? The one mom sang before she...died?" He looked down on me and nodded slightly, leaning towards me, giving some ghostly hug and he began to sing.

"Зірко, зірко, мерехти,

Недосяжна в небі mu!

(Star, star, twinkle,

You are faraway in heaven!)

Сяєш ніжно ти мені,

Мов коштовність у пітьмі!

(You shine tenderly for me,

Like a jewel in the dark!)

Зірко, зірко, мерехти,

Недосяжна в небі ти!

(Star, star, twinkle,

You are faraway in heaven!)

Щойно сонечко зайде,

Темрява накриє все.

(As soon as the sun goes down,

Darkness will cover everything.)

Зірко, в небі запалай!

Сон, малят оберігай!

(Star, light up in the sky!

Sleep, baby, beware!)

Зірко, зірко, мерехти,

Недосяжна в небі ти!

(Star, star, twinkle,

You are faraway in heaven!)

He began to sing again, but it sounded more faded, before no sound came at all. I began to doze off and eventually fell asleep under my dingy, thin sheet.

~

The next time I opened my eyes, it was time for me to go to school. I put on my uniform and did my hair in a decent way, to not make it look like I was just visited by my ghost brother. Before I walk up the basement stairs, something glimmers out of the corner of my eye.

Mischa's fake gold chain he won from some arcade. I take it quickly and put it on, fixing it up a little bit. Using my phone, I pull up my camera and check myself in the reflection.

"Perfect." I breathe out, running up the stairs and gently opening the door, my "father" unlocking it a few minutes ago.

I make my way out the front door and get to school, a memorial standing in the front. Seeing the choir's faces fill my heart with a pang of guilt.

"Um, excuse me?" A girl's voice spoke up. I turn and see a girl around my height with short black hair, freckles, and the brightest green eyes. "Yes?" "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Penny. Penny Lamb." She holds her hand out for me to shake.

I slowly took her hand, wondering if I was dreaming. "I think you're Mischa's sister, Y/n? You guys look alike." She says fascinated and touching my (h/l), (h/c) hair. "You okay, Penny?" I asked. "Yeah! Actually...no. It's been a week since...ya know, and I wanted to know more about the kids that died. And since you're Mischa's sister, I was wondering if...you could...tell me about him." She asked. "Penny-" "Or don't! You don't have to!" "Penny-" "Forgive me if that was offensive, I know you're planning a funeral and everything-"

"Penny!" I shouted, some kids looking at me weirdly. "It's okay. I would love to tell you about Mischa. I can tell you about some of the other choir kids too like Ocean and Ricky." Her face shows one of shock, but excitement. "Okay! How about we get a coffee or something. At the Blackwood café this afternoon?" She asked.

"I'll see you there." I smile, watching her smile back and run into school. And Mischa's words came into mind:

"You need to find people that make you happy and find someone you love."

Maybe that just might be Penny.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ TWO ROADS ❜

with Canche and Obispo ‘Bishop’ Losa.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 2k.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“Please, don't do that. Let me go”. With both hands raised to the man, you tried to push him away.

“No”. He just said with a naughty smile drawn on his lips, before grabbing your wrists to lift you up over his shoulder like a heavy bag, walking to the main room of the house.

“Let me go!” You shouted stirring over him, until you felt your body falling down over the mattress.

Sitting up on your forearms, you blow into a rebellious tuft of hair in the middle of your face, frowning. You couldn't barely breathe because of the efforts, watching the man crawling above the bed.

“I swear I'm gonna kill you”.

“Will you?” He asked, twisting his neck slightly, pouncing on you to tickle you on both sides.

“Canche, stop!” You screamed between laughs, trying to catch his hands while he made himself some space between your legs.

“C'mon, five minutes more, princesa de los Mayas”. The mexican surrounded you with his strong arms, resting his face on your stomach.

“My father is gonna kill us, if he finds out”.

“Just five minutes more”. He begged almost in a whisper, closing his eyes.

“I hate you”. You growled rolling your eyes, pretending that you didn't want to spend some time more together.

“I'm glad to know that it's something reciprocated”. The Mayan muttered, moving some inches until reaching your lips.

Tangling your legs with his and placing your hands on his head, you deepened the kiss, keeping the slow pace but welcoming his tongue inside your mouth. Every time you were this close, he had the same effect on you like the first time, bristling your skin and needing for more. You could assure that he was so in love with you, as you were with him. And you would like to shout it to the rooftops. But that wasn't an option. Not for the moment, at least.

“I know that… you can't call me”. You said caressing his neck with one of your hands, using your nails to made him some sweet tickles. “But… two weeks is too much. Maybe… I don't know… a text, to know that you're okay”.

“I will try, mi amor. I swear it”. He replied with a low tone of voice, accommodating his head on the pillow. “And when I come back, we will disappear for some days. We can go to the beach, if you want”.

“Sounds good, yeah”. You nodded assorted on the way of his lips moving, totally spellbound hearing his voice.

The man took back his hands to undone the clasp of the fine gold chain, with a small medal of the Virgen de Guadalupe. Silent, and very focused on his new task, he placed it around your neck. You knew how much he loved that necklace, being a gift from his mother who passed away some years ago. Giving it to you meant more than anyone could imagine, and you would swear you were about to cry if he hasn't kissed you again.

You have never been a believer, but you started to pray every night for him, to keep him safe and alive. It has been two long weeks, with a trip that started in Southern Cali to Stockton and Oakland, continuing to Portland. And after that, back to Santo Padre. One of the trips more dangerous of Mayans history, with a shipment of AK-47, even if they were accompanied by some SOA charters. But the day of their return has come and, with it, all your men. At least, you know it when you see through the front window of your car all the bikes parked there. The first you find is your father's. Next to it, Canche's.

Almost jumping out from your seat, you run like never before to the inside of the clubhouse. But the situation that welcomes you is chaotic. You open the door on time to watch Bishop tackling your boyfriend. A storm of hits and kicks is around everywhere, while the other Mayans stare at you almost frowning. You don't need to be a genius to know what is happening. Grabbing Ibarra's gun, being aware that no one is going to stop the fight, you point at the roof to fire it. The bullet impacting on it, calls everyone's attention. The two men on the floor are breathing violently, blood on their faces and angry gestures. Then, you point at them.

“The next one throwing a punch, juro por la Virgen that I'm gonna shot his brain off”.

The men separate from each other, standing up over their feet and shaking their clothes.

“How much time have you been together?” Your father asks, cleaning a brief red thread flowing from his bottom lip. His eyes are filled with rage.

“Why does it matter, dad?”

“Because I asked you for one last thing, and you shitted on it”.

“Do you think I made it on purpose? That I chose it?”

“You betrayed me. And you lied to me”.

“For God's sake… Ain't gonna talk about it in front of all these men”.

“We don't have anything else to talk about. You already took a decision”.

You just nod, one time. Stretching your arm to Ibarra, you give him back his gun.

“Doing the same shit that your mother did”.

His whisper doesn't go unnoticed to your ears, taking a step ahead when he's about to unlock himself inside the Templo.

“You pushed mom away, just like you are doing with me. If you are alone, if you are losing the only people who really love you, it's because of you, padre. Because of your jealousy, because of your inflexibility, because of your egocentrism complex”.

Bishop doesn't turn, but suddenly stops his heavy feet.

“(Y/N), don't talk to your father like that”. Canche says, frowning at you.

“Truth fucks you up, right?” You say raising your chin. “Love doesn't mean to hurt, dad. And sometimes I feel that you stab my chest. That you suffocate me. I feel alone the whole time, and you don't really know what it feels like, because I'm always by your side. But you weren't for me when I needed you the most. So don't blame me for choosing a man who cares about me, without asking anything back, over you”.

It has been the worst weeks of your life. You were sure that you were suddenly and inevitably falling into a dark depression, when you realized that you haven't gone out of Canche's house since you came. Mostly, you are tucked in his bed, grabbing the pillow as strongly as you can, wetting it with your tormented tears. A prospect was accompanying you all the time that your boyfriend was away from your side.

“How is the kid?”

Taza gets up from his chair, before Canche can leave the Templo. He turns around crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who asks?”

No one replies.

“She isn't happy, if you wanna know it”. His eyes are on Bishop's. “She cries most of the day. Hardly eats anything. And I can't remember how her laugh sounds”.

Your boyfriend is about to continue his steps, but he stops again.

“And I had to take her to the hospital some days ago, because she has a panic attack”.

“Maybe if you di—”.

“Don't you dare to add me in your equation, Bishop. This is your fault, not mine. I care about her. I love her. And I want to spend my life with her. I'm not trying to steal your daughter from you. I'm not asking her to leave you. I was even about to delegate my position as Presidente, and ask for a change of charter to be close to her. To come to Santo Padre, so she wouldn't have to leave her family”. His voice sounds firmly, blunt. “You are losing your daughter because of you, not because of me”.

Canche doesn't want to waste more time, having a road of one hour and a half to his house. The only thing he wants right now is come back, be with you, and try to comfort your pain somehow. So he doesn't notice that the crew follows him to the outside, in the meantime that he reaches his motorcycle.

His way back home feels like an eternity, parking in front of the porch, and almost jumping out from the top of it. The prospect is waiting close to the door, shrugging his shoulders to let him know that nothing has changed. You heard the door getting opened, turning your head over the pillow, watching him coming into the room. You would like to smile, as every time you see him, but it's like if your brain doesn't send the order to your lips. Lying down and embracing you over the mattress, filling your face with a bunch of kisses.

“I've missed you, mi vida”. He whispers onto your lips, before caressing them. “I took a day off, so I will be here with you the whole time”.

You can't help but sink your face under his chin, letting him hold you tightly. That's the only moment you feel somewhat better, knowing that he's not going to kick out your ass. Knowing that he loves you unconditionally.

“How was him?” You whisper.

“Fucked like you”. He just replies, kissing your head. “But I know that he's going to come today, you will see. I know it”.

He wasn't wrong. Actually, Canche is never wrong. You suddenly wake up because of the loud roar of an engine. It's coming closer, accentuating over others behind it. The bed is empty, and the room is almost in darkness. Rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, you get up from the mattress, guiding your steps to the living room as soon as you hear your boyfriend greeting your father. Sticking your head out the corner of the hallway, your eyes find him before anyone else there. He looks like shit. His beard is longer, scruffy. The two black marks under his eyes tell you that he hasn't slept much more than you.

Canche moves his head in silence, indicating the crew to leave the house, so you would have some intimacy and time alone. Bishop takes a step ahead, trying to reach you, trying to say something. But he can't. Doubting, he walks a little closer. Slowly. Hoping that you don't turn him down. Raising a hand towards your left, he holds it to push you into his arms. Surrounding your body, he hugs you with that kind of love and warmth that only your father can transmit you. All the sadness and the pain has gone. The fear of losing him, inside your chest, isn't oppressing it anymore.

“I'm sorry”. He says in a whisper, tightening his grip around you.

“Me too…”

“You don't have to, because you were right. This is my fault, mi princesa”.

He pulls himself away from you, enough to find your reddened eyes, about to cry again.

“I know you have to leave the nest, but I'm not ready. And I will never be. But if you have to do it, I'm good knowing that Canche is by your side”.

Leaning, your father kisses your forehead, pressing his lips on it for some long seconds.

“Just let me take care of you tonight, please”.

You just nod in silence. You couldn't say ‘no’. You need him, you didn't know it could be this hard to live without him. It's not the same when he's on a trip, than when he's just away from you. Closing your arms around him, you hide your face on his chest, like you used to do when you were a child waking up from a nightmare.

“I will always love you, pa'. No matter who else is in my life. I will always love you more than anyone”.

“I know, princesa. I do. And I will always do it”.

[lihikainanea]

No hate because I don't mean to offend it's just I've always been told otherwise and I'd like your input. Genuinely, how do you fight against a grown man that's twice your size when you're so small??? Like could you throw Bill around for example? I just don't understand how that works. I've always been told that no matter how strong a woman is, if a man twice her size takes her on she'll lose. And that martial arts won't win against a guy who street fights and you need to defend yourself.

No offence taken, bubs. I get this question a lot, and I’m always happy to explain these things to people who ask out of genuine curiosity. For people who ask out of arrogance (ie: usually dudes), I tend to prefer a more demonstrative approach.

There are a few things that make this whole “martial arts is useless against people bigger and stronger than you” thing a total misconception, so let’s outline some of them.

1) Martial arts is never about strength or force. Well, not your own anyway. The concept of martial arts was created with one very, very obvious thing in mind: That you will usually get attacked by someone bigger and stronger than you. I can’t speak for all martial arts, but as a kyokushinkai, I can tell you how we train and what we believe. Martial arts is not about your strength, or your force--but rather, it is about using your opponent’s strength and force against them. Have you ever thrown a punch at the air? I’m talking a real punch, one with your whole body weight--ever throw a haymaker like that at absolutely nothing? Let me tell you what happens: you go flying. More specifically, you pitch forward at the waist, you lean your upper body forward, you step into it as you try to regain your balance--and then your body’s natural inclination to counter that weight kicks in, and you lean back to try and regain your centre.

Now, imagine that as you throw that punch, the person in front of you just hooks a hand behind your shoulder and guides you even more into the direction you were already catapulting yourself in. Then imagine as your body is pitching forward from your own force, all of that forward momentum driving into one sole place--imagine the person in front of you just raises a knee, sinks it into your gut. All of this--every modicum of it--is your own force. Not theirs.

Additionally, there are also spots on the body where you can cause maximum damage with minimum efforts--these are called pressure points, most people don’t have more than a basic understanding of them, and they are a bitch. There are a lot of them in a lot of easy to reach places, and none of them require much more than a tap. Take your fingers--your index and your middle finger--and put them on the spot under your earlobe, right where your jaw connects to your skull. Push down there--that’s pretty sensitive, right? Now look at your hand, where your thumb connects to your wrist. Tuck your thumb into your palm.

If you tap someone on either side where their jaw connects, with that bony part of your hand--and you have a solid 5cm of space here, so you can miss and still be fine--you will knock them out. Every single time.

How this is applicable to the argument: People tend to think of fighting as a Rock’Em Sock’Em game. You stand in front and you punch each other. If that’s how fighting worked, then punch for punch--yeah, a dude who is 6′4 and 240lbs is stronger than me. But martial artists are craftier than that--and if I know that I won’t win the brute force game, then I don’t play the brute force game. After 12 years of training, I have 238975854569 other games that he doesn’t.

So yes, I could throw Bill around. But the whole point is--I would never have to. Strength would be his fight, because he’s a big dude. If I know my strength won’t win, then I won’t fight that way.

2) Speed and accuracy

Again, I can only speak as a kyokushinkai. But something that we emphasized was that there was a need, when you train, to constantly be uncomfortable. Are we throwing punches? Okay great, here put a weighted belt on only one side of your body and also these rubber bands on your wrist are connected to a guy behind you who will pull your hand back every time you try to throw it forward. Are we practicing defending against surprise attacks, or accuracy? Great, here kick this tiny ping pong ball using only this part of your foot, and wear a blindfold while you’re at it.

12 years of this.

I will reiterate that standing in front of a dude, square on, throwing timed punches--I will lose. He will be stronger than me. But thankfully, that’s...not ever how a fight works.

What allows me to win against a guy of that size is my speed, and my accuracy.  Let me tell you a little something about how people punch: people don’t know how to punch. Their features pinch in their face, and their neck tightens. An arm is drawn back--way back--and usually, the leading foot is raised just a tad, on the heel, so it’s just the ball of the foot on the ground. The fist comes through the air in a circular arc, reaching to connect to the side of your face as the person steps forward. The punch’s natural progression is from one of your shoulders to the other--if you can imagine that pathway. The entire thing is circular, it is energy-consuming, but more than that--it’s predictable.

I have spent 12 years getting punched by men stronger than me, who were trained to punch. Men who spent 20 years training to punch. I don’t see those coming, for a few reasons: they’re too fast, but mostly, we have been trained to not “give away” our strikes. Our faces don’t twitch anymore. We give no indication that a punch is coming, until we’ve actually punched you. There’s no wind up. There’s no arc. There’s no shift in weight--it is a direct line, and it is immediate. And devastating. We punch to break cinder blocks. Your face is not as strong as a cinderblock.

Fighting these dudes who give nothing away, I can say that in a street fight against someone--things are moving in slow motion for me. And I can confirm this, because I’ve been jumped twice in my life. Everything the opponent did, it looked like he was moving through molasses. I recognized the sudden tensing in his facial features (as competitors, do you know where we look when we fight? At the hollow of the neck on our opponent. Because of the involuntary way it clenches when they’re about to throw a strike.) I saw the arm wind back--way the fuck back. It gave me a half a second--but that’s a half a second head start, and that’s all the time I need. I can deflect. I can stop. I can strike back.

How this is applicable to the argument: Strength and force don’t even come to the party when an opponent is faster than you, because you can’t exude force against something that you can’t grab or strike. You also can’t exude force against something that strikes you right as you’re attempting to strike it.

And because we train so much on accuracy, it means that I can hit the spot that I mean to hit, with the force I mean to hit it with, under most circumstances. Including on a moving, erratic, unpredictable target. And if I miss, then I have the reflexes fast enough to strike something that was just made available to me in my miss. Example: I go to strike a groin, and he covers? Most men have an incredibly fast reflex to cover their groin. That’s fine, because it means that his hands just went down to block my strike. And when his hands go down, you know what he’s not protecting?

His head. Off with it.

(it’s also important to note that the first thing we are ever taught to protect, is our head. This is so deeply engrained in us. And the number one thing that people always punch for, is the head. When you spend 12 years protecting it against 5th degree black belts, believe me some drunk dude in a bar is not even going to get close to it without dying first.)

3) Tolerance for pain

I mentioned before that if you have never gotten punched before, it is an incredibly jarring experience. You panic. You freeze. Your knees give out. You maybe scream, you probably start to cry, you get really freaked out. There’s so many things that play on the brain in those situations--that you’re in danger, that you’re under attack, that you don’t know what to do, that the punch caused some serious damage, that you’re in pain, that somebody tried to hurt you. All of these things are terrifying, and they’re a very natural panic response to the situation.

Over the course of 12 years, I have gotten punched and kicked at full force--my face, my stomach, my chest, my head--millions of times. Millions. It doesn’t incite panic anymore, but it sure does incite rage.

Kyokushinkai go through various exercises to numb ourselves to pain. We punch telephone books covered in burlap, to kill the nerve endings in our knuckles. When we’re past that, we move onto concrete. We whack our shins with baseball bats to break down the microfibres in the bone, so they’ll not only grow back stronger--but they’ll grow back numb. We stand there, and we let the entire class punch us. Kick us. We don’t block--we absorb it. In kyokushin tournaments, if you show pain, you automatically lose. That means that if I take a kick to the head and I grimace, if I grunt or suck in a breath or otherwise show any emotion--I forfeit the fight. Immediately.

All of this takes the shock value out of experiencing pain, and more importantly, it re-programs your brain to replace it with something else. We have been, essentially, reprogrammed. That’s the only word I can think of for this. The normal brain is programmed that when you get punched, you feel pain. The kyokunshinkai brain is programmed that when you get punched, you feel fucking blind rage.

How this is applicable to the argument: He might be stronger, and he might land the hit. But I have been punched much harder by men who have been trained to use their bodies as weapons.��I have submitted my body to that for 12 years. So he may land the hit. But it won’t hurt me, because for 12 years, I have been through worse. And if he lands the hit, refer to item 2 on how I can still win. Most people throw the punch thinking it will end the fight. It’s rather shocking when you throw the punch and a harder one lands on you 2 seconds later.

4) We understand body mechanics.

This is kind of all of the points rolled into one. Martial artists have an innate understanding of pressure points, how to manipulate them, but more than that--we understand how the body moves. We understand actions, and counter-actions. We understand involuntary muscle twitches. We understand the ebb and flow, the sway, the centre lines. Gravity.

Up top I mentioned that in competition, we stare at the other person’s throat when we fight. This is not only because it’s one of the places where your peripheral vision is most effective (you can see all movement in their arms and legs), but because the body basically gives involuntary muscle twitches there before any other movement is made. If something there twitches, then something is about to come flying at your head.

But we also understand that for anybody who hasn’t been trained, a contortion of the facial features precedes strike. It’s a running joke amongst martial artists, this idea that “a punch comes from your face.” It does. there is always a constriction of the facial features before a strike.

We understand the body mechanics of a poorly thrown punch. We understand that to get more force, people will swing back, shift their weight to their back leg before pitching forward, planting their front leg, swinging their arm way behind them as their gravity shifts to the front and they launch it. A martial artist would look at this situation, and manipulate it.

So when the dude shifts his weight onto his back leg and draws his arm back--you break his back leg. Chop it down like a fucking tree, which is easy to do when his weight is on it. Or you let him throw the punch, and you move--just a slight toss to the side, guide his arm where it was going anyway if you want to, and with a little downward momentum this guy is eating pavement. And again, it’s his own momentum. You’re just nudging him to where he was already going.

As martial artists we understand centrelines and counterbalance. We understand that sometimes you need to swing things up to have enough momentum to bring them down (a double collar grab), we understand that you need to oppose the force to gain enough momentum to go with the force (a double wrist grab on you that turns into a forearm lock on them).

How this is applicable to the argument: if I could hone in on something here, and it’s only because it’s something that took me a long time to learn: we understand how to force someone to fight our fight. For years and years I would adapt to someone else’s fight. If he was a garbage truck on the mats, standing there and pounding on me, I would morph into a garbage truck too and just stand there, take it, and punch back--instead of working my angles, getting off his centre, not giving him the access to get into a punching rhythm. And against a big tall dude, a big strong dude--no, I can’t reach his head.

But I can make his head come to me.

You learn that a groin kick will lower an opponent’s hands, and it will buckle their knees in protection. Cause them to crouch. You learn that a well positioned punch low on the abdomen--say, the bladder--will fold a person in half, which brings their head much closer to you. You learn to get what you want. You want the back leg? You put yours forward. Offer it up. You hand it to them on a silver platter and let them believe they have it. You want the ribs? You throw up high, so their hands come up. You want the groin? You give them your hands. Because essentially--they don’t have your hands. You have theirs, and then bullseye.

Which brings me to my fifth and final point....

5) Adaptability.

As martial artists, we have options. We have a lot of options. We like options. We don’t believe in one fight. We don’t believe you’re ever really stuck.  But we do believe in something else, that is very dear to us. A philosophy, of sorts, and it goes like this:

Every single part of me is a weapon and every single part of you is a target.

We know how to use what’s left, we know how to use what’s available. If you have one of my hands, I have 3 other weapons I can strike you with. If I kick for your groin and I miss or you block, I now know that your head is unprotected and you’re hunched over. It means I can knock you out, it means I can reach and literally rip your ears off (sorry kids, self-defence is nasty). If I throw a punch for your solar plexus and you move, I can hit you from any angle within a 5 foot radius because that’s how I’ve been trained. If you break my leg, then I’ll remember that time that I broke my leg in competition and I still finished the fight, because I know that my adrenaline is so far off the charts that I still have a good 20 minutes before I’ll feel the pain.

If I kick and you block, I know how to throw another 3 kicks before my foot lands--all at different areas of the body. If I punch and you block, I know how to punch another 6 times and kick another 3 and one of them is bound to land, and hurt you.

How this is applicable to the argument: Everybody’s got a plan ‘til they get punched in the face. Most people start a brawl with some semblance of a plan in mind--even if that plan is just “I’m gonna throw this punch that this fucker won’t ever see coming and knock him the fuck out.”

Martial artists don’t have a plan. Martial artists wait until you reveal your plan, and then we just make sure we don’t let you carry through with it. I hope this helps shed some light, bubs <3

[ghouls-dream]

Hopefully you are still taking requests, I've been too scared to send one in. I'm sorry if this is a bit vague. I love your work💞 Can I request a smutty imagine where y/n teases dewdrop by flirting with the other ghouls just to see how angry she can get him and she ends up in deep trouble with him?

Hello, sweetheart! Firstly - thank you so much for the kind words! And secondly - im so glad you got the "courage" to ask, haha. Filth is on the way! I hope you like it 🖤

Jealous Dew x Reader one-shot (WARNING!!! HELLA NSFW, 18+)

Dew's POV 

"Oh, darn it!" Rain scoffed as he saw how one of his striped balls hit the corner of the pocket, but not getting in. "Hell yeah!" I jumped happily, going near the pool table and looking at the balls' position. We loved playing pool, especially after big rituals like tonight's. That was like a routine for us. Well the ghouls mostly - The ghoulettes had their own way of relaxing, and Cardinal always prefered binge-watching "Friends" instead of having fun with us. Sometimes it fel like he was Nihil's lost son - I can't say Copia was boring, but he was quite introverted at times.

"Don't get too upset, Rain. Maybe Mr. "Pay back time" will fail. You have luck you're not playing with me" Aether teased me as I smirked, pointing with the pool stick at him "I can take all of you!". "Everyone knows that, slut!" Swiss called out from the back as he drank his beer. I rolled my eyes, due to their laughter, and tried to ignore it. After that I bent over the table, position myself to hit the white ball in front of me when I heard the door opening... Just before I was about to hit it, my eyes focused on a very particular feminine figure... Y/N. What the fuck was she doing here?!

Y/N POV

It was the night after a ritual, which automatically meant no sleeping for any of us! Well, at least Papa's witches. Why? Because our rooms were one wall apart from the Ghoul's playroom. All of us hated that - including Cumuls and Cirrus, who prefered a ladies night with us and the Sisters of sin. The Ghouls were just too loud. Especially when there was alcohol in the whole picture and tonight... Tonight there was a lot!

I looked around the sleeping girls, tossing myself again and sighed. I couldn't fall asleep, Swiss' voice was keeping me awake as well Dew's loud banging on the pool table, so I just decided to get up, put on my black lacy dress and go see what the boys were doing. Maybe even asking them to keep it a little bit more quiet. Some of us had a morning praise at 5am! And besides... I wouldn't mind seeing them. Since all of us were friends and there was no "I'm superior" barreier between us.

I walked out of the room, feeling how the slight wind was touching my skin as I grabbed the playroom's lock. Before I pushed it, I heard Swiss' voice calling someone "slut". My mind automatically connected that with Dewdrop as I smirked and let my filthy thoughts invade my brain.

As I entered the room, all of the boys turned to me. They looked shocked. Especially Rain who I could tell even felt emberassed by my look. The lacy black dress was thin enough to cover my whole body, but it was also a little bit transparent. "Weren't you supposed to be sleeping?" Mountain asked, before taking a sip from his drink and then offering me some. I refused of course and responded sarcastically "Well we all were, but some smartass decided to put your playroom next to our bedroom. Do the math". "I told you guys" Aether pointed out as I felt Dew's eyes scanning every bit of my body. He was in the middle of a shot I can tell, by his position, but he obviously gave up doing it. He stood up, leaning against the stick and growled "So what? It's not like you listen to it every night". I chuckled at his response and sat next to Swiss, who was half-laying on the red couch next to the pool table. His hand was put on the backrest as he looked over me and raised an eyebrow "So noise brings you here? It's not something or someone else?" I heard the boys' "oohs" as I smirked at him, bitting my lip and shrugged. "You never know" - I said seductively before turning my head towards Dew. His eyes were burning with... Anger? Also I wouldn’t want to be the stick he was holding. The ghoul's grip around it was almost enough to break it in half. I could tell my his knuckles, turning white. 'Or maybe I'd like to be' my mind whispered to myself. "Won't you finish the shot?" I asked, raising my eyebrow as Aether laughed "Yeah, man. I'm getting sleepy". Dewdrop rolled his eyes, positioning himself again. His swift body movements were enchanting. 

Finally the white ball hit the red one in front of it, but no luck. "Ooh, so close dude!" Mountain pointed out as Dew sighed. 'Do it! Come on!' my mind encoureged me to do the thing I've been thinking about since the moment I entered the room. I knew that it wouldn't end well, one way or another, but I couldn't care less at this point. I got up from my seat, looking at Rain who was obviously confused on how to move on with the position of the balls on the table. Before becoming part of the Church actually, I really enjoyed gaming nights with my friends - doesnt matter what type of game we'd play. I always enjoyed them. "Need help?" I smirked at the Water ghoul who shurgged his arms and gave me the stick. "That's not by the rules!" Dew's voice filled the room. I could feel he was getting angry. I raised my eyebrow and asked seductivly, before taking Rain's stick  - "And since when do YOU play by the rules?". After those words I heard another set of "oohs" before, bending over in front of Rain. I could deffinitely tell he wasn't feeling the most comfortable in that position, since my butt was touching his front, for which I felt kinda bad, but I was enjoying every bit of it since Dewdrop's anger was growing. "Have you been working out lately?" Swiss joked as I turned to him chuckling and winked back at him, answering his joke with my own "Wanna find out?".

We actually stayed in the room for almost another hour of jokes and laughter, before Aether got in charge and as being the most responisble one of the group asked us all to go to bed. I wouldn't have refused anyway, I was tired. "Yeah, I'll see you guys tomorrow" I whispered yawning, as we all started walking out of the room, before feeling someone's hand gripping my waist and preventing me from escaping. I quickly turned around before hearing the door closing behind me, as Dew stared into my eyes. " 'Wanna find out!?' Seriously!?" he hissed against my lips before crushing his onto mine. His fingers found their way into my hair as he gripped it, which caused my head to tilt back slightly, exposing my neck to him. "Are you jealous?" I teased. "Am I jealous?! I'm fucking furious, Y/N! Do you not remember the time backstage? Or the 'please don't tell Imperator about this' situation in her office?! I'm gonna make you pay, girly!" Dewdrop whispered against my ear as I felt my kneese getting weaker, with every touch he made over my body. Next to the other ghouls, he was indeed shorter, but I wasn't them. Dew was almost a head above me. His teeth found his way to my most senstive part on my neck and bit it gently, before sucking it harder. I gasped by his action, before whimpering "Fuck yes...". He wasn't even trying to be gentle at this point and every part of my body loved that! His fingers made their way to my lady parts, feeling the wetness over them as he whispered "So you'd let Swiss try this out, but not me? Wrong...". After those words I felt how his index entered me, followed by his middle finger. I didn't even have time to react i just grabbed his shoulders and moaned, as he moved them faster and faster. "Did you like bending over Rain?" he groaned against my neck, before sucking on the same spot as before. This time i felt a small wave of pain, which made me whimper. "Answer me! Did.. You... Like it?!" Dew's voice was filled with sexual rage. "Yes!" I cried out as I opened my eyes and saw him smirking, before saying "Let's see how you'd like this then". His fingers quickly escaped my body as I sealed my lips with his own, as I felt himleading me towards the pool table. His tongue was fighting for dominance in my mouth and I gladly gave him what it wanted.

After that breathtaking kiss Dew spun me around, so I was in the same position as with Rain. My heart was going to explode in my chest, my pulse was pumping so hard I felt like fainting from all the adrenaline. Before I could make up my mind I heard a belt, being unbuckled, and soon after that a firm smack on my bare butt. Dew came once again next to my ear and whispered "I'll make you regret every single thing you did that night". After those words I felt a sweet pain rushing through my body, causing me to moan loudly. He made a few thrust inside as i grabbed the wooden side of the pool table. His hand found its way in my hair once again, before gripping it tightly and pulling my body next to his. "Dew..." I moaned louder as his other hand grabbed my neck and squeezed it gently. "Yes, Y/N?" he whispered breathless into my ear, before bitting my neck again. His movements were becoming even faster as I felt that the end of both of us was close. "Tell me how much you love this... Say it!" his voice filled the room as I shouted, panting "I love it how you fuck me! Dew... Im... Please...". Few more thrust were made into me, as I felt the pleasure building inside my lower stomach. Dew then kissed my lips roughly before bitting the lower one and whispered "Come... Now!". I was more than happy to release the pleasurable tension inside me as my voice filled the room. His grip also let go of me as I heard my name escaping his mouth before feeling one final thrust. After that there was just mine and his unstable, deep breathing... Nothing more, nothing less. We were both a sweaty, aroused mess at this point and it never felt better!

Soon after I was able to come back to reality I felt his lips brushing against my bare shoulder. This time it was tender, gentle and sensual. It had nothing to do with what just happened. "Y/N... Stop driving me crazy like this. Not that I don't like it, but... I was about to beat the shit out of both Rain and Swiss" he whispered as I chuckled and turned my head to him, kissing him gently, before whispering back "My dorky firecracker..."  

[fireblaze5555]

Another quick Kastle short while I am quarantining.

------

Frank found himself beat to hell and tied to a chair, his most recent war had some unseen players that broadsided him. It was unusual for him to be caught unawares but shit happens and here he sat. His face was throbbing and he was pretty sure he had at least one busted rib but he wasn't overly concerned yet. So far, the man who claimed to be the head of this mess had just talked. Endlessly. About his 'empire' and how stupid 'the Punisher' was to have interfered.

Frank hadn't said a word since he woke up, which by his estimation was several hours ago, mostly just looking unimpressed and annoyed, sizing up the room for when he made his move. He was brought out of his contemplation when they set a laptop in front of him on a small table, the screen black. He raised an eyebrow at the man before saying, "First time I've had a complementary movie, very considerate of ya." His voice was rough with disuse and he punctuated it by spitting some blood from his mouth.

The man, Marcetti, that's what he'd said his name was, gave a low chuckle before having a henchman turn the screen on. It only took Frank a second to recognize what he was looking at and suddenly all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

Karen's apartment. He knew from the angle that the camera had to be in the bookshelf and he wracked his brain, trying to think of when they could have had a chance to plant a camera in her place. Or how they knew she was connected to him, he had been so careful with his Karen Page related indulgence.

Frank didn't say anything but the look he turned on the mob boss had the man taking an involuntary step back. Marcetti recovered quickly though, arrogance lacing his tone, "Are you surprised? Didn't think we would know that the Punisher has a soft spot for tall blonde legal assistants?"

An irrational part of Frank's brain wanted to correct him, she's a P.I., freelance investagative reporter and so much fucking more you piece of shit, but he knew that would only confirm to the man that he had struck a chord. So he ignored him, facing back to the screen and fast tracking his plan to get out of here so he could clear her apartment before she got back. He desperately hoped that she had made plans with Nelson or even Murdock and wouldn't be returning to her apartment any time soon.

His heart sank in his chest when he saw her come into view, carrying a clothes basket. Everything slowed down in that moment and details stood out in striking clarity as fear gripped him. She was wearing that tank top he liked, the one made of soft material that showed off the perfect shape of her breasts. It was shorter in the front so when she stood he could just see her belly button and a strip of taut pale skin on her abdomen. It was loose and flowy, granting him easy access to aforementioned breasts. She had on yoga pants, her favorite pair, and her hair was braided as it often was when she was cleaning the apartment. Karen settled on to the couch to start sorting laundry, he saw her haphazardly throwing her socks together before she came upon a pair of his. His heart ached as he saw her roll them the way he did on the occasion he was there to help with domestic tasks.

Frank's world sped back into focus as Marcetti clicked his tongue appreciatively, "My, my, you do have good taste Mr. Castle. She is lovely. I'm glad I ordered them to bring her here, I think she will be great fun to keep around once you are dead." Frank's whole body jerked towards the man involuntarily. The mob boss flinched trying to hide it by motioning for a lackey to land a few punches to Frank's snarling face. His eyes returned to Marchetti after every blow, unyielding.

"You put your hands on her and I will make sure you die as slowly and painfully as possible." His voice was low and full of promise.

"You aren't really in any position for threats. So just sit back and enjoy." His smile made Frank want to make the man swallow his own teeth. He was about to tell him as much when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karen tense up and turn to the direction of her front door. A second later she was on her feet with the coffee table between her and two men.

Frank's breathing was labored as he watched them slowly approach her. Dread, panic and guilt churned in his chest, he was going to have to watch someone else he loved die, once again not being able to do a goddamn thing about it. When the first blow landed on her face he let out a bellowing yell that had everyone in the room step back. Frank pulled on his restraints, fighting to get his emotions under control. He had to get out of here, now, he may still be able to get there in time.

He froze though, when he saw Karen lash out with a vicious kick to the side of one of the mens' knees, collapsing it sideways. The other grabbed her by the hair but she instantly dropped to the ground causing him to lurch forward which brought him in range for her to snap her head back into his nose. As he clutched at his bloodied face, Karen stood quickly, swaying slightly, Frank was sure that the blow to the back of her head was disorienting. In a matter of seconds she had her .380 in her hand steadily staring the man down.

Pride swelled in Frank's chest, his panic ebbing only slightly, as he watched her beautiful mouth giving the man hell. Her hands were steady and her form was perfect. If he wasn't so terrified for her safety, Frank would be incredibly turned on. He knew she was telling her assailant to get on the ground, she would shoot if she had to but she would avoid it if she could. When the man lunged for her, she squeezed the trigger, two to the chest. The man who's knee had been collapsed managed to get to his feet, taking a swipe at her while she was distracted. It was his last mistake because she turned and put two bullets in him as well.

Frank heard the men cursing around him and he gave a small laugh, despite himself. People were always underestimating his girl. On the screen, he saw Karen process for a moment, his heart giving a lurch when he saw her cover her mouth and let out a sob. But then she was moving, grabbing her bag and a jacket and heading in the direction of the door, no doubt headed to the safe house, just as they planned for situations like this.

He forced his face into a smug mask, turning from the screen to meet the eyes of his captor. The man was seething, still staring at the screen where two of his men lay dead. When Marcetti did turn his eyes back to Frank he snapped his fingers at two men to his right, they instantly stepped forward, "Go find that bitch. Do what you have to, just get her here, alive." He waved them off sharply before kicking the small table and laptop out of the way to stand in front of Frank. It was just him and two other men in the room with Frank now.

Frank shook his head slowly, a corner of his mouth tipping up smugly, "You probably should have done more research on her. I mean, it's really never good to underestimate a woman, especially not one with such good aim." He forced his voice to stay even in the hopes it would further rile Marcetti. He was half sick with worry, at the very best Karen was going to be frantic when she couldn't get a hold of him, at worst she could be attacked again. So he needed his captor to make a mistake soon.

Thankfully it only took another minute. Marcetti stepped right in front of him bending to speak right into Frank's face. Perfect. Before he could get a word out Frank headbutted him as hard as he could in the face. Frank had taken a lot of blows to the head so he only saw stars for a split second, recovering much faster than his victim. Taking a page out of Karen's book he lashed out with a powerful kick to the man's knee, collapsing it backwards. There was a flurry of movement at that point, the two remaining men hurrying to pull their boss back out of reach. It was enough time to allow him to finish slipping the zip ties around his wrist completely off.

When one of the lackeys pulled back to punch him, Frank was ready, quickly breaking his arm and taking the firearm at his waist. The man was dead before he hit the ground, the second guard had barely gotten his hand to his waist before he was also felled by a headshot. Frank rolled his shoulders, ignoring the twinge in his side, checking the magazine in the stolen gun. Four bullets left.

Marcetti had started to crawl away but Frank kicked him over onto his back, promptly putting a bullet in the remaining good knee. He let him scream for a second before Frank put another in his right shoulder and another in his left shoulder. Stepping over the prone man, Frank leaned down, grabbing him roughly by the jaw, forcing him to stop screaming.

Frank let all of the pent up rage show on his face for the first time since he saw Karen disappear from the camera feed. His voice was deadly quiet when he started to speak, "You're lucky, that she got away," he shook the man's face as his weeping got louder, "Shut up. Like I was saying, you're lucky she got away because now I don't have time to make this as painful as I wanted. You really shouldn't have messed with my girl, asshole."

Frank stood to his full height, giving Marcetti a second to start begging before putting the last bullet in his head. The beast in Frank wanted to make him suffer. He could have spent hours dragging out the man's death for bringing Karen into it but he had to make sure she was okay. She was his priority now.

Grabbing the gun off of the second man he shot he held it at the ready as he moved through the building. Thankfully it was abandoned and he only had one more person to shoot before he was clear of the building and striding as quickly as he could towards a main road. He wasn't sure where he was so the likelihood of him being anywhere near where he left his van was slim to none.

Luckily his captors had not stolen the money in his pocket so he was able to hail a cab to get him within a couple of blocks of the designated safehouse. Thank God for NYC cabbies, there wasn't a word or even a backwards glance as Frank climbed in, beat to shit and covered mostly in his own blood.

He was planning as he stepped out of the cab, where to go next if he didn't find Karen in the safehouse? Maybe she would have gone to Murdock's place. If she hadn't, maybe Murdock could help him locate her faster. His busted rib was giving him hell for the pace he was setting but he needed to know she was safe.

It seemed like an eternity but Frank finally came to a halt in front of a rusted door at the back of an apparent abandoned warehouse. He had been watching his surroundings and didn't have a tail so he punched in the code to the door, sliding in quickly. Out of precaution he had a gun ready in his hand before calling out, "Karen? It's me."

For a moment he didn't hear anything and his heart began to sink in his chest. Then he heard the subtle click of a safety being clicked into place and she was rounding the corner that served as a makeshift kitchen. He was lightheaded with the relief that flooded him, she was here, she was safe.

Before he could process more she was right in front of him, her slender hands on either side of his jaw as she looked him up and down, "Frank what happened? Are you okay?" Her hands were roaming over him, searching for injury, "I tried calling you a dozen times and you didn't pick up, I didn't know where you were. These men...they.." She let out a hiccoughing sob that had him instantly pulling her to his chest, murmuring comforting words into her hair. She recovered quickly though, wiping the tears away harshly and pulling him towards the first aid kit.

"Are you okay, you're not hurt anywhere are you?" This time he was the one running hands over her, voice rough, eyes resting on the bruise that was blossoming on her cheek.

"No, no I'm fine." She rested her hand over his on her cheek before steering him to sit down. Frank closed his eyes as she ran a cool cloth over his face, wiping away the blood. Her voice was quiet as she worked. "How did you know I was here?"

His eyes opened quickly, rage and panic suddenly burning hotly through him again, remembering watching the men attack her, remembering his own helplessness to stop it. Without thinking Frank brought his hands up to cradle her face, to reassure himself that she was here, that he wouldn't wake up to find she had been taken from him too.

As if she could sense his rising panic, which she probably could, he could never hide anything from her, Karen wrapped her hands around his wrists and gave them a reassuring squeeze. She pressed a soft kiss into his palm before she continued to slowly wipe the blood from his face. She knew he would answer when he was ready.

Frank grounded himself by watching her eyes as she worked. Every once in a while her clear blue gaze would meet his and he would see them crinkle reassuringly at the edges before she focused on her task again.

Finally, when he felt most of the remaining adrenaline drain out of him, he spoke slowly, his voice full of gravel, "This last mission, I almost had them all wiped out but I missed something and they blindsided me. I woke up and they had me tied to a chair, giving me the usual bad guy speech, ya know?" She gave an amused huff but he saw the worry creep into her visage as she cleaned out a gash she found in his scalp.

"They pulled out a computer that had a live feed to a camera into your living room."

Karen froze, meeting his eyes quickly, "You saw them attack me." It wasn't a question, she was always one step ahead of him it seemed.

Frank gave a slow nod, feeling sick as he remembered watching the men advance on her. How she almost died because of him. Again. He attempted to shutter his expression, he needed to create distance between them, he had to push her away. He knew that this would happen and yet he kept selfishly pushing himself into her life. He was going to get her killed. He-

He let out a growling curse as Karen abruptly and none too gently pressed gauze covered in alcohol to the cut in his scalp. His gaze returned to hers sharply and she was waiting for it because her expression was defiant.

"I already know everything you are thinking Frank and we've been through all of it before. You're not pushing me away, I'm not going anywhere and so help me God if you even THINK about telling me 'I'm not safe' or 'I'm not good for you Karen' I will beat you within an inch of your life. Do you understand me Castle? Yes, people came after me. Yes, they did it to get to you. But they didn't get me, I got them."

Her voice was strong but he felt the small tremor in her fingers as she began applying the butterfly sutures to his head. Gently, he grabbed her hand, pulling it down to press a lingering kiss to her knuckles before he replied, "I know you can handle yourself, I've seen you do it more than once and I was damn proud of what you did today. But Karen," he leaned down to catch her eye again when she looked away, "You shouldn't have to. You're good. I'm tainting your life, forcing you to make decisions you shouldn't have to make."

She stared at him for a moment before slowly shaking her head, like she thought he was incredibly dense, before she stepped in to stand between his knees. Her hands came to rest on either side of his strong jaw as she tilted his head up to look at her. Slowly she lowered her head and gave him a soft lingering kiss, one that made his chest swell and his arms ache to wrap around her. A kiss that made him realize just how foolish it was of him to think he could walk away now, after she was so deeply a part of him.

After another slow press of her lips, this time to his forehead she spoke softly but with all the authority of the goddess she was, her words full of steel, "I would make that decision over and over again if it meant I got to keep you in my life. We're a unit now Frank. We deal with things together. I don't always agree with the wars you wage but I will always be there once you are done fighting them. I'm not going anywhere. I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it."

Frank stared up at her, both wanting to take her to the bed in the back and show her with his hands and mouth how much he worships her and wanting to shake her until she sees sense and runs in the opposite direction as him. Though the latter would tear him to pieces.

He settled for a happy medium, once he was patched up, he had Micro set up focused surveillance on this safehouse and then called in a favor to have the two bodies removed from Karen's apartment as discreetly as possible before settling them both into bed and tucking her securely against his chest. She was out almost instantly, her fingers securely wrapped around his as she slept.

Frank was a monster, he killed people, deserving people, but it was killing nonetheless. He constantly made Karen worry and he most certainly didn't deserve her love. But as he watched her sleeping in his arms, her blatant trust and care for him evident in the way she gripped his hand, he realized he was also a man. A man that needed Karen Page as much as the Punisher needed his war. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, drifting off as well. Maybe one day he will be strong enough to push Karen Page out of his life for her own protection...but he doubted it.