#the beginning in incredibly melancholic ow

[noszkass]

ashley tempest winthrope.

thirty six. defense attorney. jai courtney.

“You're supposed to grow out of your horridness, aren't you? I don't think I ever grew out of mine. Sometimes I think it's still inside me, like something nasty I swallowed, that got stuck...”

content warning: mentions toxic, co-dependent relationships; abuse; death of a peer/family member (via murder).

dominant traits. logical, charismatic, gentleman, stoic, focused, patient, selectively affectionate, charming, observant, cautious, possessive, unpredictable, self-preserving, forceful, obsessive, demanding, melancholic, aggressive, irritable, distrusting, unrelenting, loyal, easily jealous, less hair-trigger more berserk button, no-nonsense, quick thinking, dishonest.

fictional parallels. elijah mikaelson (the originals); geralt of rivia (the witcher); henry winter (the secret history); pope cody (animal kingdom); richie gecko (fdtd the series).

○ born into the winthorpe family; known for their successful generational family law practice, as councilmen from neighboring townships, and good for nothin' criminals who latched onto the teat of a community that's long-since given up on them like leaches─depending on what side of miriam's well it is you live in. ashley's particular branch is the former. estate house in rosebush hill drive, debutant turned matron belle mother who just can't seem to find her way around or out of other people's business (including, if not almost invariably, that of all three of her children), and a certain amount of respectability he was brought up to live by.

○ on the surface ashley winthorpe is a deliciously handsome man. wealthy and put together. takes pride in his appearance and family name. he's also well-mannered and polite, and thoughtful in such infinitesimal ways that you never really think much of until after the fact. and there is something so very not right about him. he has a kind smile that never quite reaches the edges of his eyes and though it doesn't necessarily look disingenuous, there's something about it that doesn't exactly leave you with a sense of ease. like an unfamiliar gesture that's been practiced over and over, so many times that it's lost meaning. like it takes the muscles in his face a moment to pull before they settle in the correct spots. he'll have a conversation with you and while at times it seems he's looking right through you, others will have his attention so intensely undivided it feels as if you've been bared naked and left in a cold room. like you've just been caught lying about something and he knows. somehow, he's known all along. because he listens intently when you speak to him and you suspect somehow he never forgets a single thing he's heard.

○ there's no mistaking his booming voice, jarring, even at a whisper sending shockwaves through your core that has you on high alert. even when it's soft and lulling (in an attempt to offer comfort or catching him melt into the woman he's declared the love of his goddamn life from the corner of your eye through the crack in his office door), there's something threatening that looms. less like hard blunt force and more like a living, breathing fog that blankets you with strong arms, settles deep into your gut, coils itself around your innards, and wrings you dry. the confusing part? you know, without a doubt, he would protect you with no hesitation and ask for nothing in return. and, most of the time, you'd be right. because ashley winthorpe is a good man. no matter how your instincts thrash, screaming at you otherwise.

plot hooks.

i apologize, some of these are all very specific to a singular plot and i could've just included them in a legit request 😬🙃

○ sandbox love never dies. a very specific and imperfect friend group cast in the roles of bastard, bleeding heart, damaged, golden, grim, ingénue, temptress, and wild card. they've been together since any of them can remember. spent their whole lives dreaming about trying to get out of miriam's well, but instead only found tragedies that bind them to each other. tragedies, usually, of their own making. you'll be able to read a little more about these characters in the sandbox love request, which i promise is coming!! there is a doc in the works with more information + a plot server, so expect to be part of those things if you take one of these babes!

○ his secretary. in the past he's helped her out with something legally and she's kind of in his debt, though he insists time and time again she owes him nothing of the sort. i figured it'd be something along the lines of strong holding an ex-boyfriend or husband who wouldn't leave her alone (making her miserable, or something like refusing to pay child support he'd been ordered to pay, dragging her name through the mud, etc. general nuisances to nip in the bud/bad behavior in need of correcting before they became worse as they usually do. you get the idea), because that's notoriously right up his alley. likely using non-legal means to get there; intimidation is sort of his thing. and while he may not be the type of boss or co-worker who meets you for drinks after you clock out, he does have an affection for every single one of his employees and seeing as how she works with him the most, she'd be near the top of that list. maybe she was intimidated by him in the beginning and now she knows he's not everything he appears to be. and they have an understanding.

○ the weight of his guilt. [cw: murder. this will come much later in the plot!] the winthorpes are a family on two very extremes of a type of people. [the bastard] is his cousin on his father's side, a wayward little sister who got knocked up by someone unbefitting of the family and then marrying someone worse by their standards when the father got himself put away over an affair or something just as unbecoming. ashley was always raised closely with [the bastard], his father's hope to sway the boy of many wasted talents to the right side of the family, to make something of himself. but he's a product of his lineage. and only ever finds situations for ash to get him out of. eventually, [the bastard] who he will murder, cold and bloody and bury at the base of an old oak tree will disappear. and ashley's guilt will cause him to reach out. as far as anyone knew, they were the best of friends. always together (even if that relationship was practically handwrought by his father, and he had little-to-no patience for his cousin's antics). it'll be only natural that he come by every now and again to check on them, show care, help fix up things around the house that [the bastard] would have if he were still around. because it'll ultimately be ash's fault he's gone. partially. [the bastard] will deserve what he gets and no one who'll know will be able to convince him anything otherwise, but his family didn't deserve the fallout that came after. maybe a parent or sibling or someone [the bastard] claimed to love while making his way through the female population of miriam's well.

○ the other two winthrope children. they're expected to be upstanding citizens to combat the trash reputation the other winthrope side creates. father is one of a long line of lawyers (with a main practice just outside of town, ashley's secondary office in mw because he prefers it here) and mother is a homemaker whose extracurriculars might as well be solid, paying jobs. they have three children together; ashley (being the oldest son), a daughter magnolia (and the only girl -- taken by sage), and the youngest son, credence (who is very likely expected to join the family business, like ashley). i don't expect anyone to make the parents even though that would be incredible? but they all still have rooms at their home in rosebush hill drive to use at their leisure. it wouldn't at all be out of the question that some of the children still live there -- especially the daughter if she's unwed. they're very old fashioned southern that way. they do these big family events where everyone is expected to participate, go on vacations and holidays together, and church on sundays regardless of your personal beliefs on the matter (that you had very well better keep to yourself if they don't align, ashley has learned). their grandfather also lives in the family house after losing grandma a few years back.

[ollie-ollie-oxenfreee]

a study of souls (daemon au) - 2

Part two of this little character study series, now with 100% more swords, bad jokes and pre - canon feelings!

An important cute note: as an unsettled daemon, Helianthus changes her form a lot. Throughout the timeline of this little story, she takes the shape of an English mastiff, a reddish - brown border collie, a Samoyed and (though it isn’t mentioned) a very bulky, wolfish - looking Malamute.

The rightful penitents of the Ninth House were a serious, regimented people, and they had a serious, regimented set of standards to match. Proper Niners had dark hair and sloe eyes instead of bright red and yellow. Proper Niners didn’t concern themselves with things that weren’t bones, prayers or the various grim combinations thereof. Proper Niners were prickly and severe and imperiously melancholic, and they didn’t dare do something as undignified as ‘have an unsettled daemon’ or ‘experience more than One (1) Whole Emotion.’

Gideon and Helianthus were not proper Niners. Not by a long shot. Not even when they tried - and they honestly did try for a while. Shortly after the night outside the Tomb, wracked with guilt and loneliness, they devoted a solid six months to being good little church mice.

Gideon forced herself to sit up straight during prayer, fought the urge to fidget and whisper with her uncomfortably quiet daemon, did exactly as she was told even though she hated every fucking moment of it. And in the end it wasn’t worth it. Nothing changed. Even when they were on their best behavior the two of them were still less than dirt in the coal - black eyes of the Ninth.

So why bother? Why waste the energy? Might as well screw up on purpose. Give those awful old bats a good reason to hate them both.

( Maybe the hurt would be easier to bear that way.)

From that moment on they took to being the Ninth’s black sheep like a couple of fish to water. They spent the otherwise empty days of their youth learning everything they could about swordplay from Aiglamene and her ancient shepherd, plotting increasingly creative ways to get out of prayer and skipping evening chores to practice on their own in the training room.

They explored every last depressing inch of the rusted tiers and spires, searching for vulnerabilities that a couple of enterprising runaways could exploit. They picked fight after fight and honestly lost most of them but learned something every time they peeled themselves up off the dusty floor.

By the time they turned seventeen (and passed the grand old milestone of 80 failed escape attempts) they’d become a well-oiled combat machine. They fought together as easy as breathing, Helianthus knocking constructs off balance with a swipe of her powerful mastiff paw or shifting into a fleet-footed collie to herd them within range of Gideon’s blade. They were ready for whatever was waiting for them on the front lines. It was just a matter of getting there.

Attempt 81 at getting there was admittedly not great. Anastas, Harrow’s feral little gremlin of a daemon, caught them within a few minutes of leaving their cell.

Attempt 82 a few months later wasn’t much better.

83 and 84 brought the Reverend Daughter’s dabblings in poison into the mix, which sucked tremendously but meant that they had plenty of time to plan while they recovered. (It also meant that Helianthus would shift into her cuddliest form - a fluffy white cloud of a dog - and curl up on Gideon’s chest each night to keep her warm through the wracking shivers, which was nice.)

85 ended in failure and frostbite but also netted Harrow her first black eye in four years, so it wasn’t a total wash.

Number 86, on the night of their eighteenth birthday, was when things started to really get serious. It wasn’t so much an actual escape attempt as the first step in a more complex plan. Helianthus - amazing, incredible wonder that she was - had managed to steal a “birthday gift” for them both in the form of a shuttle request. A real paper, signed - and - stamped one. If they could get it filed without getting caught, in a few months’ time they’d have a legitimate means of getting off - planet and leaving the Ninth behind.

It would just require a little bit of stealth.

They crept through the halls that night like a heist crew from a comic book. Whispering wordlessly through their bond, a live wire of breathless nerves and excitement sparking between them, they were more in sync than they’d ever been. They made it up to the main office, scanned their form and slipped like shadows back down the corridor to where the creaky old elevator waited, scarcely believing their luck.

They didn’t even notice the little chips of bone scattered about their feet until the lift ground to a halt in midair, held fast by a net of interwoven skeletal arms.

Harrow had fucked them over again.

Right on cue, the baneful bone empress loomed out of the darkness like a particularly scrawny wraith. Her daemon settled at her side, his tail wrapped primly around his paws.

For a long, tense moment, they stared at each other.

Helianthus bristled with a low growl.

Anastas’s unsheathed claws gleamed in the dim light.

And Gideon did what she always did in these situations. She rested her hand on the pommel of her sword, flashed her brightest smile and said the first thing that came to mind.

“You come here often?”

Harrow’s reaction - a minute, sour pursing of the lips - wasn’t the most satisfying she’d seen, but it certainly wasn’t the least.

“Should I even bother asking what it is you think you’re doing?” she said at last. Acerbic disgust dripped from every word.

“Well, you see, I was going about my serf - ly duties and solemnly reflecting upon the tremendous debt I owe for being born, and I thought, hey! You know what? I could probably serve the ancient and noble House of the Ninth even better if I didn’t have to climb up ten flights of stairs to get to the next tier! So I did the logical thing and strolled on over to the lift, but now it seems to be kind of stuck, so if you could do a penitent girl a solid, I would really appreciate - “

A skeletal hand sprouted from the nearest pillars of bone and thwacked none too gently over her mouth.

“Evening curfew begins in five minutes. Against my better judgment, I will give you until then to return to your cell on your own. If you for some reason are still out wandering by the time the bell stops tolling, I will send the marshal to collect you and lock you in until morning. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded immediately, trying to bite back her smile. That was a far, far better outcome than she’d been expecting. They didn’t get caught. The request form had already been scanned and processed, and Harrow was none the wiser. Unsteady, bubbling joy surged through her bond with her daemon, and she saw Helianthus’s tail wag just a little out of the corner of her eye.

They’d done it. They’d actually done it. They were home free.

All they had to do now was wait.

[roadtohell]

@mynamesdrstuff​ thank you ur brain is so big, i had like 10 moments of revelation while writing this

A Labour of Love- or, How to Write a Song That Makes Me Want to Lie Facedown On The Floor

Four decades separates the respective rises of singer-songwriters Hozier and Bruce Springsteen, nearly as large as the gap between the worlds in which their public images reside. According to popular myth, the former is the tall, near-ethereal Bog Man, half in this life and half in the next, who rose from a fae-inhabited woodland after 1000 years of slumber to find he was able only to mourn his lost love through song; the other is the Boss, a hardy yet compassionate working-class hero permanently streaked with the blood and sweat of a marathon shift, toiling endlessly alongside the heart-stopping, pants-dropping, hard-rocking, earth-quaking, booty-shaking, Viagra-taking*, love-making, legendary E Street Band. The domains of fen and factory may appear to be irreconcilable, but in reality the musicians have many things in common:

Broadly speaking, they both create wildly variable mixes of folk and rock, often with particularly strong Irish and African-American influences.

Their lyrics are poetic and commonly reflect on social issues with a progressive voice.

Songs about romantic relationships typically portray them as complex and difficult but remain respectful, sometimes near worshipful, of women.

Their characters yearn, long, pine and crave more often than not.

They both really like to use religious imagery.

They enjoy and return notable amounts of wlw love.

Representative of many of these are Hozier’s “Work Song” and Springsteen’s “Maria’s Bed”, two songs with close thematic parallels. Each is ostensibly told from the perspective of an exhausted labourer who dreams of returning to his lover. In a twist, however, “Work Song” is a melancholic love story, while the upbeat “Maria’s Bed” is a subtle tale of death; the opposing moods are complex reflections of these underlying narratives. These songs have Hozier and Springsteen skilfully intertwine the concepts of love, death, freedom and spirituality, creating two deeply moving portrayals of desire** that never fail to eviscerate the listener after 10pm.

Though the songs differ in overall lyrical structure, the similarities in narrative are evident from the first few lines:

Boys, workin' on empty / Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? / I just think about my baby / I'm so full of love I could barely eat

Been on a barbed wire highway forty days and nights / I ain’t complaining, it’s my job and it suits me right / I got a sweet soul fever rushing round my head / I’m gonna sleep tonight in Maria’s bed

The audience can gather that each character works in a harsh environment where they are exposed to the elements. Their work is likely in manual labour, but the details are skimmed over because the narrators don’t particularly want to think about the details. Pushed to their limits, each instead copes by preoccupying himself with thoughts of his lover, though it makes him literally lovesick.

I’d never want once from the cherry tree / ‘Cause my baby’s sweet as can be / She gives me toothaches just from kissing me

She gives me candy-stick kisses ‘neath a wolf-dog moon / A sweet breath and she’ll take you, mister, to the upper room

The worker recalls his lover’s kisses as being vibrantly sweet, sweeter than nature. So, too, is her company- in contrast to the grim situation he is currently in, she is something to be savoured. Sugar cravings, an innate biological compulsion, come to mind; his hankering for her is likewise deep-seated and out of his control.

The reason for such devotion, the narrator reveals, is that she saved his life at a time when he had already resigned himself to death. He believes he was undeserving of such a deed; Hozier describes “three days on a drunken sin… she never asked me once about the wrong I did,” while Springsteen’s character recounts being “burned by angels, sold wings of lead / then I fell in the roses and sweet salvation of Maria’s bed”. In other words, his state of ruin was at least partially self-made, and her care seemed completely inexplicable. He eagerly returns her love, perhaps feeling that it’s the least he owes- but he still doesn’t quite understand where it came from.

True to both songwriters’ styles, these lines are direct allusions to the idea of redemption in Christianity: God sheltering a faithful person from the literally hellish consequences of their wrongdoing, through no merit of their own. However, the worker is notably dismissive of traditional doctrine:

My babe would never fret none / About what my hands and my body done / If the Lord don’t forgive me / I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me

I’ve been out in the desert, yeah, doing my time / Searching through the dust for fool’s gold, looking for a sign / Holy man says “hold on, brother, there’s a light up ahead” / Ain’t nothing like the light that shines on me in Maria’s bed

His faith rests not in God but on his lover; she is his religion now. Her act of grace already gave him a new, better life- he doesn’t need biblical promises when her love is tantamount to anything heaven might offer. This implication conveys a staggering depth of feeling, particularly to a religiously raised listener. Spirituality is, at its core, emotional; combined with the values and customs of religion, it is a force that can exert incredible influence over a person. The worker doesn’t reject spirituality itself- it’s an intrinsic part of him- but he has put all that power in the hands of the one he adores. It may make him vulnerable to her (that’s love!), but he is certain that she will give him the strength he needs.

Theological redemption also has close ties with death, as its benefits aren’t meant to be reaped on earth. Instead, the love, glory and freedom that are promised are relegated to the afterlife. Historically, the presumed ecstasy of achieving this gave death a sexual connotation; after all, if a lover could take the spiritual place of God, then perhaps sex could take the role of death as a gateway to paradise, far away from a life of pain. Work Song embraces this analogy, explicitly linking spiritual fulfilment to the pleasure of sexual intimacy:

When I was kissing on my baby / And she put her love down, soft and sweet / In the low lamplight, I was free / Heaven and hell were words to me

The equally suggestive Maria’s Bed allows the audience to draw similar conclusions, but it accomplishes this using a far less serious method: regular mentions of the titular bed, wink-wink-nudge-nudge. Yet this light-hearted sauciness is something of a misdirection. It’s easy to gloss over the song’s references to water, but they are strong hints that support an alternative reading: Maria is not a woman, but a river***. The story, from this perspective, then becomes much more sombre- the worker is a dying or suicidal man who wishes to have his body laid at the bottom of a river that provided for him in life, and whose real desire is for the peace he hopes to find there in death.

Got on my dead man’s suit and smiling skull ring / Lucky graveyard boots and a song to sing / I keep my heart in my work, my troubles in my head / And I keep my soul in Maria’s bed

This darker interpretation arguably makes more sense than the face-value love story, as it resolves some figures of speech that otherwise seem out of place. Even so, the more obvious reading is no less meaningful****; in fact, the coexistence of these narratives is what makes Maria’s Bed an almost perfect thematic inverse to Work Song.

When my time comes around / Lay me gently in the cold dark earth / No grave can hold my body down / I’ll crawl home to her

Hozier uses the finality of death to illustrate the strength of a man’s desire for love- his narrator embraces his own passing as he is certain not even the most permanent of barriers can keep him from his lover. Springsteen, through the personification of the river, uses the language of romance to demonstrate how fervently a man might desire death- his narrator embraces his demise because it offers a reprieve from life, just like a lover would.

All that said, no amount of lyrical analysis will reveal the clearest point of contrast the songs have: their music.

Work Song primarily draws from blues and folk music, both of which have roots in historical work songs used to coordinate physical tasks as well as boost morale. Reflecting this musical heritage, instrumentation is fairly simple, with the steady rhythm of claps and piano chords punctuating hard. It is slow and heartfelt, almost mournful; though there’s no mention of time frame, the audience has the sense that the worker still has a long way to go before he can return to his lover.  This notion comes largely from the song’s circular structure. By ending with the same music it opened with, its story is also implied to finish at its beginning: with the men hard at work in the “burning heat”, and no true relief in sight. This is furthered by having little development over the course of the song- though iterations of the chorus are more intense than the verses, the arrangements underlying both sections barely change. The worker, it seems, is never quite far enough from his reality of hard labour, and never close enough to home.

On the other hand, Maria’s Bed is relentlessly optimistic, driven by a strong forward momentum. Where most modern songs have their choruses as their most powerful feature, here the wordless refrain (“hey hey, la la la li li li li”) acts more like a transition between verses, keeping the story moving. The jaunty fiddles that fade out are quite different to the introductory guitar and organ, suggesting the worker’s situation has developed for the better. In addition, the orchestration builds continually, only briefly pulling back before the music culminates in an extended musical outro. Many of the instruments work in counterpoint, each additional layer contributing to an air of an unrestrained joy that is further spurred on by Springsteen’s high hums and whoops. The linear musical direction and overall impression of good cowboy fun results in the feeling that, unlike the singer of Work Song, the narrator is already on his way to his heart’s desire- though, in light of the lyrics, what this actually means is somewhat ambiguous. Are those final echoes him moving out of earshot… or his ghost ascending to the “upper room” of heaven?

We may not know for sure how either of these stories end, but we can feel the aching hope for something better. This longing is an emotional line that runs all the way through both Springsteen and Hozier’s work, though it never seems to get old. Combined with explorations of love, faith, life, death- that’s why we return to their music again and again; they are experts at playing on old motifs and universal themes in new and creative ways, their crafted melodies and narratives touching wild and industrial hearts alike.

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* I am legally obligated to include all these adjectives.

** Maria’s Bed seems to be sadly obscure even among fans; the one and only online forum discussion I have seen about the song refers to it as “not that deep”. Having written this whole essay- if Springsteen himself said that to me, I’d laugh in his face.

*** A random internet comment I can’t find anymore backs me up on this. It even specified that it was about the Santa Maria River in California, as quoted “from Bruce”. Obviously an infallible source 😊

**** It’s important that “[drinking] the cool clear waters” can totally be the description of oral sex you thought it was.

[voxyldy]

SPEECHES MAMA 2020

Mnet Asian Music Awards 2020

The 2020 Mnet Asian Music Awards (MAMA) was held online on 6 December. BTS won eight awards at the event, as well as being recognised as one of the ten . Translations of their award speeches are below. Videos will be added to this page as they begin to be uploaded by the official channel. The award names are linked to the relevant tweet thread.

Best Dance Performance

JM: ARMYYY! RM: Whoo hoo! JM: We’ve been able to meet in this way once again. First, we thank ARMY greatly for giving us such an award. And to Teacher Son Deuk, Byungwoonie hyung, Sungwoon-nim, Gawon-nim, the performance team, thank you to all of you. And honestly, our bodies need to be in good shape to be able to perform well, so we thank the hyungs of our conditioning team. Honestly, the reason we pursue great performances is to showcase a good stage, and the reason we pursue a good stage is so that we can allow the fans who cheer us on to delight their eyes and ears, so today too, with many of these artists having prepared such great stages, the reality of being unable to face you is honestly a bit of a shame. But despite this, for cheering us on, we thank you. We hope that a time where we can see each other face to face comes quickly. We thank you always for cheering us on, and we’ll be a BTS that continues to work hard. RM: SUGA hyung, get better soon! J: You have to come for us to be able to showcase a true performance!

Album of the Year

JH: Papa Mochi! RM, V: Hey, Corden! JM: Woo ow! Everyone, ARMYs, thank you so much! Some of you may not be aware, but SUGA hyung is currently recuperating, and because you gave us such a great award, he’s briefly dropped by. (holds up phone) Hello? SG: (laughs) Hello? Can you hear me? Can you hear me JM: We can hear you! SG: I’m currently also watching it through live broadcast. I want to convey my thanks to the ARMYs who gave us this Album Award, and to be able to receive it once again after last year – this is the most beloved album of the year, right? We worked hard preparing for it in America before bringing it back here, and many people loved it so we were thankful. And especially to hear that it’s ‘Album of the Year’ – I’m seeing it now too, and it really does good. Ah (laughs). I want to stand on stage, and I’m working hard at rehabilitation, so don’t worry too much, everyone. People around me are contacting me to say they’re enjoying MAMA right now, but they were saying that even though I’m not there (laughs) So, though it’s a little embarrassing, my heart is with you, everyone, so I want to say that I’m thankful. ARMY, I love you! BTS: Whoo! SG: Ah, ah. This was BTS. 2, 3 – BTS: (bows) Thank you, ARMY! RM: Thank you for the first ever untact speech, SUGA hyung!

Worldwide Fans‘ Choice

JH: Wow, worldwide! V: Worldwide~ (brings Jin closer) JK: I will first begin the award speech by conveying our thanks to those more precious than any other, our ARMYs. Thank you so much, everyone. (bows) There was a period of time when we only had passion, spirit, and resentment, but then we met you, and through you, we were able to learn of sincerity, hearts filled with a variety of emotions, and love, and awaken such feelings within us. And that was delivered – delivered to us – and by being able to learn of this, I believe we were able to deliver our sincerity to a greater number of people. And I believe it is through the repetition of this, and the great synergy this achieved, that ARMYs all over the world were able to recognise us. So we thank you so much, and for spending your precious moments with us, thank you so so much. ARMY, please make sure to be happy, and it’d be good if we could continue to make a lot of good memories together. I love you. (ENG) Thank you! BTS: Thank you ARMY!

Best Music Video

JH: Whoo! Music video! J: Yeah~ V: Yes, hello, ARMY. We received the Music Video award! Woohoo! J: Wow! V: Thanks to our ARMY, many people watched our music video. And to the directors who shot this great music video – Director Lumpens-nim, Director Hyunwoo-nim, the directors, lighting directors, etc – all the directors who worked hard for our video, as well as our staff and Big Hit family, thank you so much. And our new Director Jungkook-nim shot ‘Life Goes On’ so well, I want to convey my thanks to Director Jungkook-nim too. (JK salutes from the side) V: We finished this year with ‘Life Goes On’, and next year we plan to come bearing an incredible music video, so please await it eagerly and in the future, we will be a BTS that only delivers love to you. Thank you. (bows) BTS: Thank you! JH: (ENG) Congrats, Lumpens! J: (ENG) Lumpens, thank you! RM: Lumpens!

Worldwide Icon of the Year (Daesang) (Note: RM gave this speech in English.)

Best Male Group

J: Yes, hello, we’re BTS. I believe it’s thanks to ARMY that we’ve been able to receive ‘Best Male Group’. Honestly, because of COVID-19 this year, many of our plans fell to pieces, and we too felt melancholy and hollow, but thanks to the cheers of ARMY, ‘Life Goes On’ and ‘Dynamite’ was able to be released. I want to convey our thankfulness to ARMY, for being our motivation and our driving force so that we’re able to continue, and since it is a ‘Best Group’ award, I want to thank my members for doing so well without any problems, and to SUGA, who is watching this over tv broadcast, you’re our member too, so I want to congratulate you too. ARMY, thank you! BTS: Thank you ARMY!

Song of the Year

RM: Thank you so much. There are so many things I want to say, and they’re not well organised in my head, but I’ll still try to speak each and every word calmly. MAMA was actually the only award ceremony we were not invited to at our debut, and so we had really wanted to come, and it was the award ceremony we envied, but with time passing, we’ve been able to receive such big awards for consecutive years, so it’s deeply moving.

To tell you the truth, ‘Dynamite’ is a song that came to us like the first snow in these tragic circumstances when we were having to take steps back. It’s a song for which we too did not expect to receive this much love.

Honestly, in a period that is so difficult for everyone, our hearts felt heavy and uncomfortable at times for it could feel as though we were the only ones to bring good news. However, honestly – (laughs) I really hope that my clumsy sincerity can reach you – we, at times, worry whether it is possible for us to encourage others to tread well, as the places we tread are through song and dance, with [tracks] like ‘Dynamite’ and ‘Life Goes On’ – and yet, even then – for we believe there are many people who wouldn’t be able to undertake what they usually do, and therefore wonder whether it’s right for us to say such things – and yet, even then – because we are people who sing and dance, please tolerate us as we say things like “let’s still love a tomorrow that comes searching”.

We’re sorry, and we’re thankful. And so, saying these words is saddening, joyful, and difficult, but still, time goes on, tomorrow comes, and the morning finds us, so it’d be good if, with a resolute heart and a smile, you could see it in front of us. Just like the explosiveness of ‘Dynamite’ or the confidence of the guitar melody of ‘Life Goes On’, we will tread here with our two feet, and as BTS, will work hard to live out our lives, making music and performing. Your great love is more than we deserve, and we are so thankful. It’s an honour. Thank you. (bows)

Artist of the Year

JH: Now … First, ARMY!

J: ARMY!

JH: Are you watching? I want to express how thankful I am to our ARMYs who have watched this [award ceremony] until such a late time, and really, (lifts award) through the weight of this award and the time that it is, I’m realising that it’s this time of year again and that we’re at MAMA once again.

Honestly, coming to award ceremonies every year and being able to show ourselves to you and receive so many great awards is such an honour. Well, lots has changed, but I believe that our hearts, hearts recognising this to be an honour, have not changed.

Honestly, every time we grow to reach another level, the words we hear most often are about how incredible our fans are. I want to take this moment to confirm once again that all we do on this stage, such as sharing acceptance speeches and performing, is all thanks to ARMY.

And, honestly, though it’s a little embarrassing to say in daily life, I want to take this moment to repeat – as Jin hyung did earlier – to our members, the protagonists of this ‘Artist of the Year’ award, that, this year, due to these friends, due to this team, it was possible for me to not be sick, lonely, or melancholic. I want to say once again that you worked really hard this year, and that I love you.

And, I’m not sure if he’ll be watching right now, but our SUGA hyung, it’d be good if you could make a complete recovery soon and be together with us on stage. You need to be here for this ‘Artist of the Year’ award to shine more brightly.

RM: That’s right.   JH: I’m so so thankful and I love you all. Thank you. JK: Yoongi hyung has received an award!

JM: And to our staff, our Big Hit family – we need to be so thankful to so many people – our family, our friends, our fans. As Hobi hyung stated, this year has somehow, in some fashion, gone by. It feels as though we’ve pushed through this year, working hard; it feels like it’s flown past to the point I can barely remember any of it, but also like it’s crawled by. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s been complicated; I’ve been happy, sad, angry, felt as though things are or are not remaining.

But despite this, we survived and protected the things important to us, and I want to say to you that just like we lived through this year, we will press forward in the same way with you next year. I’m always thankful, and I love you. (bows)

V: What I want to say once more is our protocol team, our manager hyungnims: for waking us up, for cheering us on, for feeding us, and when we’re done, for saying that we’ve worked hard – the managers and staff who are the nearest to us, we’re thankful, and thankful again.

RM: Thank you, we love you! JM: ARMY, thank you! JH:  Thank you! JM, JK: I love you! JH: Let’s finish off our year well~ J: Shihyukie hyung, thanks!

Bonus.

Best Collaboration: IU’s ‘eight’ ft. SUGA Best Executive Producer of the Year: Bang Shi Hyuk Best Producer of the Year: Pdogg Best Video Director of the Year: Lumpens Best Art Director of the Year: MU:E

These translations are also from WISHA from her Wordpress account @doyoubangtan She does many translations for everything BTS. 

[vyrnalackerman]

HQBLOODSHED TASK TWO → PERSONALITY EXPLORATION

MBTI: INFJ-T (The Advocate)

81% Introverted

51% Intuitive

68% Feeling

63% Judging

75% Turbulent

“Treat people as if they were what they ought to be and help them to become what they are capable of being.” - Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

The Advocate personality type is very rare, making up less than one percent of the population, but they nonetheless leave their mark on the world. Advocates have an inborn sense of idealism and morality, but what sets them apart is that they are not idle dreamers. These individuals are capable of taking concrete steps to realize their goals and make a lasting positive impact. People with this personality type tend to see helping others as their purpose in life. Advocates can often be found engaging in rescue efforts and doing charity work. However, their real passion is to get to the heart of the issue so that people need not to be rescued at all.

Hogwarts House:

Hufflepuff: 80%

Ravenclaw: 56%

Slytherin: 54%

Gryffindor: 52%

Ilvermorny House:

Thunderbird: 80%

Pukwudgie: 48%

Horned Serpent: 0%

Wampus: 0%

Patronus: Thestral

Thestrals get a bad reputation as unlucky opens, probably due to their spooky appearance and association with death. The reality is that these intriguing creatures, which are only visible to people who have witnessed death and accepted its significance, are gentle and kind. Thestrals can fly at incredibly fast speeds and have a keen sense of direction. If the herd that lives at the Forbidden Forest is any indication, Thestrals can be extremely loyal to their human friends and will fiercely attack their enemies. This makes the Thestral an intimidating and powerful Patronus. (MuggleNet)

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or personal code directs her. Order and organization are paramount to her. She may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or she may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government. The common phrase for lawful neutral is “true lawful”. Lawful neutral is the best alignment you can be because it means you are reliable and honorable without being a zealot.

Temperament:

Melancholic: 18

Phlegmatic: 12

Sanguine: 10

Choleric: 8

Your temperament is melancholic. The melancholic temperament is fundamentally introverted and thoughtful. Melancholic people often were perceived as very (or overly) pondering and considerate, getting rather worried when they could not be on time for events. Melancholics can be highly creative in activities such as poetry and art - and can become preoccupied with the tragedy and cruelty in the world. Often they are perfectionists. They are self-reliant and independent; one negative part of being melancholic is that they can get so involved in what they are doing they forget to think of others.

BDSM Test:

Vanilla: 86%

Vanilla people enjoy regular, standard sex and relationship models. Nothing wrong with that, as long as you’re having fun! Vanilla’s typically match well with other vanillas.

Exhibitionist: 60%

Exhibitionists enjoy showing their naked body or a sexual activity to other people. Definitions vary with respect to whether those being shown this, should be looking for such encounter or not. Exhibitionists typically match well with voyeurs.

Switch: 59%

Switches like to... well, switch. Always taking a dominant or top position is not for them, neither is always taking a submissive or bottom position. Some prefer to switch with the same partner or partners, others have a dominant play partner and a submissive play partner, but in either case they do not fit on one end point of the spectrum. Switches typically match well with other switches.

Rice Purity Test:

47

Enneagram Test: Type 2 (The Helper)

Helpers who need to be needed.

People of this personality type essentially feel that they are worthy insofar as they are helpful to others. Love is their highest ideal. Selflessness is their duty. Giving to others is their reason for being. Involved, socially aware, usually extroverted, Twos are the type of people who remember everyone’s birthday and who go the extra mile to help out a co-worker, spouse, or friend in need.

Twos are warm, emotional people who care a great deal about their personal relationships, devote an enormous amount of energy to them, and who expect to be appreciated for their efforts. They are practical people who thrive in the helping professions and who know how to make a home comfortable and inviting. Helping others makes Twos feel good about themselves; being needed makes them feel important; being selfless, makes Twos feel virtuous. Much of a Two's self-image revolves around these issues, and any threat to that self-image is scarcely tolerated. Twos are thoroughly convinced of their selflessness, and it is true that they are frequently genuinely helpful and concerned about others. It is equally true, however, that Twos require appreciation; they need to be needed. Their love is not entirely without ulterior motive.

Twos often develop a sense of entitlement when it comes to the people closest to them. Because they have extended themselves for others, they begin to feel that gratitude is owed to them. They can become intrusive and demanding if their often unacknowledged emotional needs go unmet. They can be bossy and manipulative, feeling entirely justified in being so, because they "have earned the right" and their intentions are good. The darkest side of the type Two fixation appears when the Two begins to feel that they will never receive the love they deserve for all of their efforts. Under such circumstances, they can become hysterical, irrational and even abusive.

Because Twos are generally helping others meet their needs, they can forget to take care of their own. This can lead to physical burnout, emotional exhaustion and emotional volatility. Twos need to learn that they can only be of true service to others if they are healthy, balanced and centered in themselves.

Soulmark Color: Pink

Never short of affection, patience, or understanding, those with a pink soul color are energetic and respected. They are seen as nurturing individuals, and they attract many people who feel misguided in life. They tend to always find the good in every situation and inspire others to do the same.

Pink soulcolors are highly in tune with their emotions and the emotions of others. They believe all feelings should be acknowledged and dealt with in a healthy manner. They look out for those who don’t look out for themselves, often spreading themselves thin and crashing in the process.

While friendly, this color is introverted and shies away from social gatherings. However, it’s not uncommon for them to accompany a friend out into a social situation or be a wingman if needed. Their friend circle comes first and foremost, whether it be large or small, and they will attempt to make time for everyone even if they are spent.

This color is drawn to doubt and question if they’re doing enough. They like to conform and know that they are accepted. This leads them to try and be something they’re not, and they often grow disappointed or disgusted with themselves should they deceive themselves and others for too long. They are also bad at keeping promises, setting goals they can’t achieve, and unintentionally disappointing those they wanted to impress.

[ssjkallion]

Remember that Time I said I would Show You that mock trope page I made?

Here it is. 

IT’S ALL FOR FUN! And I do include references to actual RP’s, so you might find yourself in here lol!

Might as well post it here too for mobile purposes.

Kallion: 

A Saiyan time patroller from Planet Vegeta.

Action Survivor: Just barely survived Planet Vegeta’s destruction due to being marooned on another planet.

Survivors Guilt: Big time, though she tends to play it off, if not outright denying that she has it. Kallion has…issues about the circumstances of her survival.

Innocent Blue Eyes: Compared to the more common dark eyes of other Saiyans, emphasizing her gentle nature.

Fish Out Of Temporal Water: Was born several years before Planet Vegeta’s destruction, but is now living in Conton City nearly a century later. Though she’s happy now, her early days at the time patrol made for a difficult adjustment.

Brooding Boy, Gentle Girl: Gentle girl to Giblet’s Brooding Boy.

Involuntary Shapeshifting: As any Saiyan who still has their tail, one look at the full moon will have her turning into a Great Ape in no time.

My Species Doth Protest Too Much: Downplayed, and largely averted. Kallion points out that while she was always far more gentle than what was typically expected of Saiyans, and she lacked that ruthless killer instinct, she is still a battle-crazed idiot. On the other hand, she theorizes that her experiences weren’t all that unique to begin with. I.e: Gine and Tarble.

All Girls Want Bad Boys: Between Giblet and, yes, technically Trunks as well, Kallion seems to have a type. The real kicker is that she doesn’t escape this platonically either– Bardock is a hell of a father figure to have. She even lampshades this herself; “How come I only ever get attached to emotionally constipated men?”

Scars are Forever: A prominent one on her left cheek. It’s unknown exactly what the circumstances were, but she assumed she got it while a Great Ape. Countless others are scattered all over her body as well.

Intergenerational Friendship: With Bardock, her mentor. He also happened to be her father’s best friend.

Proud Warrior Race Guy: Saiyan!

Sole Survivor: Of her crew, who left her behind and returned to planet Vegeta on Frieza’s orders. Needless to say, she was lucky to be abandoned.

Tyke Bomb: Typical of most Saiyan children.

Golden Super Power Mode: Super Saiyan, naturally

Did You Just Punch Out Cthulhu?: It’s in the job description.

Dating Catwoman: Her and Giblet.

Action Mom: In the future, having kids doesn’t slow her down at all.

Mama Bear: Becomes fiercely protective of her baby boy Keel, a trait which only continues to grow in the future.

All-Loving Hero: Willing to give most people and creatures alike the benefit of the doubt….save for Frieza, Mira, Cell, Towa…obvious villains aside. Also loves animals.

Bad Powers, Good People: Being a Saiyan, she has a natural unlimited potential for battle and power. Along with the added layer of being able to turn into a vicious giant ape. Yet, she’s kind and mellow.

She’s Got Legs: Muscular and flexible.

Nice Girl: In spite of being a full blooded Saiyan of the PTO age, she’s kind hearted and easy going. Kallion, in general, has a difficult time hurting people unless pushed. Granted, she can be surprisingly short tempered.

The Apprentice: To Chronoa, as well as Bardock, and eventually Shallot.

Archenemy: Considers hers to be Towa, Frieza, and Suuja.

Badass Adorable: 5ft of Saiyan rage.

Bare Your Midriff: Typically in her casual attire.

Berserk Button: Good hearted as she may be, Kallion is still a short tempered Saiyan. What gets her is usually picking at her insecurities, insulting Chronoa or Trunks, making even the slightest threat toward her children, or dragging innocent people into conflicts.  

Big Eater: Saiyan!

Blood Knight: Again, Saiyan!

Came Back Strong: As with every Saiyan, coming back from the brink of death brings with it a hefty power-up known as a zenkai boost.

11th-Hour Ranger: Her job as an elite time patroller.

Glass Cannon

Huge Guy, Tiny Girl: Being all of 5ft, she’s this standing next to most of the men she knows. Special mention goes to Arugla, Taeta, Scaro, Giblet, Bardock, Trunks…

Lightning Bruiser: Speed is her greatest advantage due to her size.

Platonic Life-Partners: With Arugla, Taeta, Scaro, and debatably Trunks.

UST: With Trunks. There’s an obvious attraction, and she trusts him more than anyone.

Slap Slap Kiss: However, her and Giblet….

Opposites Attract: Her and Giblet again.

Slasher Smile: Often right before a fight.

Tranquil Fury: The first time she went Super Saiyan.

Token Good Teammate: Didn’t end well…kind of.

Took a Level in Badass: Gained a significant amount of confidence during her time in Conton City.

Wild Child: From age 6 to 12, after being marooned on a swampy planet by her old crew. When it became obvious that no one else was left to come get her, she fended for herself.

Blue is Heroic: Blue eyes, blue clothing, blue armor…

Defends Against Their Own Kind: Technically, whenever she’s fighting against a rogue saiyan in history.

Determinator: Can get to wonderfully self destructive levels.

Pregnant Badass: Hell, she’s confused as to why she’s apparently supposed to stop fighting after finding out she’s pregnant with Keel.

Socially Awkward Hero: Spending your formative years as a feral child will do that to a girl.

Idiot Hero: Socially awkward, romantically oblivious, no sense of self preservation? Yeah.

Nice Job Fixing It, Villain: So, your crew abandons you to die. Then THEY end up dying, you live and get stronger, and end of recruited by an elite time force where you get to work with the greatest heroes in history. Thanks, old crew!

Recruited From The Gutter: Found as a wild 12 year old girl living on a backwater planet with little intelligent life besides herself.

Undying Loyalty/I Owe You My Life: To Chronoa, Trunks, and the Time Patrol. Kallion is incredibly grateful for the second chance they gave her.

Wacky Parent, Serious Child: The wacky parent to the much more serious minded Keel.

Because You Were Nice To Me: What sparks Giblet’s attraction to her, along with the fact that she was never afraid of him. This trope is also the initial reason for her crush on Trunks.

Villainous Crush: Again, Giblet.

First Kiss: Giblet again!

Friend to All Children: Even before having her own, she had a soft spot for children and got along with them well.

Child From the Future: Keel, her equivalent of the Toki Toki City/XV1 Hero. Not that she initially knows.

Back-To-Back Badass: With Arugla, Taeta, and Trunks typically.

Desperately Craves Affection: Downplayed, but still there.

The Power of Friendship: Comes with the territory

Remember That You Trust Me

All Of The Other Reindeer

Motor Mouth: Usually when she’s nervous or meeting someone new.

Lady of War: It’s in the blood, after all.

Four-Temperament Ensemble: Sanguine

Beware the Nice Ones

Like A Daughter To Me: Bardock refers to her like this almost word for word.

Freudian Trio: The Id

Innocent Fanservice Girl: Has no qualms with people seeing her naked, and doesn’t understand why others would be offended by her being nude in her own home or bathroom.

Attack! Attack! Attack!

Wide-Eyed Idealist: To a point.

Too Hungry To Be Polite

Stupid Good: Hooooooo boy.

The Pollyanna

Paralyzing Fear of Sexuality: Due to growing up alone, her knowledge of sex and things related to it is slim to none. As a result, actually experiencing those feelings causes her to momentarily freeze and panic. She gets better.

Oblivious to Love: Related to the above. Romantic gestures tend to fly over her head unless it’s spelled out.

Insecure Love Interest: Which directly feeds into the above two examples.

Battle Aura: Yellow or purple.

Strong Family Resemblance: Her mother’s spitting image. In teen Keel’s timeline, she has a daughter of her own who looks just like her as well.  

Stepford Smiler: Type 1: “The character seems to be happy, cheerful, is always smiling, and seems to live a perfect life - but inside they are melancholic, if not outright depressed.”

Sink-or-Swim Mentor: Bardock, who has no problem beating her into the dirt during their very first training session.

Verbal Tic: Has a habit of ending sentences with “yeah?” and “ya know?”, as well as starting with common sentence fillers like “well,” or “uh”. Ya know?

Obfuscating Stupidity: Kallion is a weird case. While she’s uneducated and misses innuendo, she can be very intuitive. There’s also her habit of dodging uncomfortable questions by acting like she doesn’t understand. To quote Mariko; “Sometimes I wonder if you play dumb, or…”

Did you think I can’t feel?: Rips into Giblet with this almost word for word after he still accuses her of using and manipulating him for the Time Patrol.  

Dead Guy Junior: Not her, but her son is named for the only member of her crew who was kind to her– and died as a result.

Book Dumb: She is very much uneducated, due to her circumstances. Learning to read was never a priority until she was 12.

Red Oni, Blue Oni: The red to Android 22's blue, but the blue to Mariko's red.

(To be added on continually whenever I think of another or as I see fit! FOR FUN!)

[julianacapulets]

BASICS

FULL NAME: Juliana Rosa Capulet

NICKNAMES:

Jules;

Principessa.

DATE OF BIRTH: February 23, 1996

ZODIAC SIGN: Pisces

Pisces is symbolized by two fish swimming in opposite directions. A part of you is always trying to “swim away” or escape reality. The other part is so intuitive that you get swept up in everything going on. Your imagination is the perfect hideout when you want to escape, since Pisces is so creative. You love dancing (Pisces rules the feet), movies, poetry, and music. Your moods are mysterious and your dreams are intense. Every Pisces should have a journal by your bed, since some your best ideas will come in your sleep. Although you can feel helpless, you’re much stronger than you think. The best way for Pisces to experience your own strength is to help people in need. You have great compassion and incredible healing powers. Because it’s easy for people to make you feel guilty, Pisces should watch out for friends who use you, or make you doubt yourself. Surround yourself with good-hearted friends who have their acts together. Many people born under your sign have a “tortured soul” quality. Finding a tranquil spiritual outlet, or spending time alone, can help you get re-centred in your own power.

NATIONALITY/RACE: Italian/Chinese-Italian

PERSONALITY TYPE: ENFJ – “the Protagonist”

Protagonists radiate authenticity, concern and altruism, unafraid to stand up and speak when they feel something needs to be said. They find it natural and easy to communicate with others, especially in person, and their Intuitive (N) trait helps people with the Protagonist personality type to reach every mind, be it through facts and logic or raw emotion. Protagonists easily see people’s motivations and seemingly disconnected events, and are able to bring these ideas together and communicate them as a common goal with an eloquence that is nothing short of mesmerizing.

The interest Protagonists have in others is genuine, almost to a fault – when they believe in someone, they can become too involved in the other person’s problems, place too much trust in them. Luckily, this trust tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, as Protagonists’ altruism and authenticity inspire those they care about to become better themselves. But if they aren’t careful, they can overextend their optimism, sometimes pushing others further than they’re ready or willing to go.

Protagonists are vulnerable to another snare as well: they have a tremendous capacity for reflecting on and analysing their own feelings, but if they get too caught up in another person’s plight, they can develop a sort of emotional hypochondria, seeing other people’s problems in themselves, trying to fix something in themselves that isn’t wrong. If they get to a point where they are held back by limitations someone else is experiencing, it can hinder Protagonists’ ability to see past the dilemma and be of any help at all. When this happens, it’s important for Protagonists to pull back and use that self-reflection to distinguish between what they really feel, and what is a separate issue that needs to be looked at from another perspective.

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

Creatures of neutral good alignment believe that there must be some regulation in combination with freedoms if the best is to be brought to the world--the most beneficial conditions for living things in general and intelligent creatures in particular. Creatures of this alignments see the cosmos as a place where law and chaos are merely tools to use in bringing life, happiness, and prosperity to all deserving creatures. Order is not good unless it brings this to all; neither is randomness and total freedom desirable if it does not bring such good.

They value both personal freedom and adherence to laws. They feel that too many laws may unnecessarily restrict the freedom of good beings. They also believe that too much freedom may not protect society as a whole and encourage counterproductive divisions and in-fighting. They promote governments which hold broad powers, but do not interfere in the day-to-day lives of their citizens.

To a neutral good being, life and the assurance of other creatures' rights take precedence over all else. This is not to say that this character will have an aversion to taking another's life when faced with a choice between an attacker's and his own, however. Neutral good beings also believe that law and chaos are merely tools to use in bringing life, prosperity, and happiness to all deserving creatures. Neither numbers nor individual concerns have any bearing on decisions regarding the needs and rights of any given creature. In other words, in the view of a neutral good being, rarely will either the needs of the many or the personal desires of an individual outweigh the needs of any other creature. All life is given even-handed treatment. As with all alignments neutral with respect to law and chaos, self-reliance is a cornerstone of a neutral good being's personality. In a crunch, neutral good characters trust in themselves and in no other individual or group. This doesn't mean they can't make friends and develop trusting relationships with others, however. Neutral good beings aren't normally as independent as chaotic good beings, and they can cooperate in groups. But they won't always trust a group to be more effective than they could be themselves.

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic-Phlegmatic

ELEMENT: Water

ENNEGRAM: Type Two – the Helper

People of this personality type essentially feel that they are worthy insofar as they are helpful to others. Love is their highest ideal. Selflessness is their duty. Giving to others is their reason for being. Involved, socially aware, usually extroverted, Twos are the type of people who remember everyone's birthday and who go the extra mile to help out a co-worker, spouse or friend in need.

Twos are warm, emotional people who care a great deal about their personal relationships, devote an enormous amount of energy to them, and who expect to be appreciated for their efforts. They are practical people who thrive in the helping professions and who know how to make a home comfortable and inviting. Helping others makes Twos feel good about themselves; being needed makes them feel important; being selfless, makes Twos feel virtuous. Much of a Two's self-image revolves around these issues, and any threat to that self-image is scarcely tolerated. Twos are thoroughly convinced of their selflessness, and it is true that they are frequently genuinely helpful and concerned about others. It is equally true, however, that Twos require appreciation; they need to be needed. Their love is not entirely without ulterior motive.

Twos often develop a sense of entitlement when it comes to the people closest to them. Because they have extended themselves for others, they begin to feel that gratitude is owed to them. They can become intrusive and demanding if their often unacknowledged emotional needs go unmet. They can be bossy and manipulative, feeling entirely justified in being so, because they "have earned the right" and their intentions are good. The darkest side of the type Two fixation appears when the Two begins to feel that they will never receive the love they deserve for all of their efforts. Under such circumstances, they can become hysterical, irrational and even abusive.

Because Twos are generally helping others meet their needs, they can forget to take care of their own. This can lead to physical burnout, emotional exhaustion and emotional volatility. Twos need to learn that they can only be of true service to others if they are healthy, balanced and centred in themselves.

OCCUPATION: Shadowing Cosimo Capulet

 APPEARANCE

HAIR: Dark brown, falling an inch underneath her breasts

EYES: Brown, almost black

SKIN TYPE: Dry

BODY TYPE: Athletic

HEIGHT: 5 feet, 5 inches

WEIGHT: 50kg

DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Faint mole at the inner-curve of her left cheekbone, large hands with long fingers, smattering of freckles spread out over her back, and a distorted birthmark on the inside of her right thigh

SMELLS OF: Cocoa butter, from her lotion; Arabica coffee & peaches, from her shampoo; mint, from her toothpaste

STYLISTIC PREFERENCES: Dresses & skirts with filmy blouses, neutral tones accessorised with metallic jewellery, always in a pair of heels

  PERSONALITY

TRAITS:

+ loyal, generous, altruistic, intelligent, compassionate, patient, spiritual, adventurous, curious, controlled, persistent, romantic, reliable

- unforgiving, deceptive, idealistic, indecisive, manipulative, restless, insatiable, self-conscious, pretentious, resentful

LIKES: early mornings, black coffee, art & culture, philosophy, sunny days, flowers pressed in poetry books, letters, fruit, bullet journals, pocket-watches, vintage collectibles, silken materials, expensive lingerie, perfume, languages

DISLIKES: thunderstorms, rabbits, onions, apple juice, mathematics, green tea, strawberry ice-cream, technology, gin, cinnamon

SKILLS: writing, learning languages, painting, archery, shooting

HOBBIES/HABITS: reading, long walks, drawing, embroidering, anything that allows her to move her hands

FEARS: rabbits

[onestowatch]

Reach Nirvana with TACHES’ Chill Dance Instrumentals in ‘Heart Over Heels’ EP

An alluring artist from the Balearic island of Mallorca, TÂCHES specializes in genre-bending soundscapes that intrigue listeners with his continual experimentation and nonconformity. His charming new release, Heart Over Heels, is no exception to this romantic atmosphere as he radiates with every melancholic track on the pleasing EP. Reminiscent of dance, electronic, and house music, TÂCHES’ wholesome sound will hypnotize you into a frenzy of euphoria that you won’t want to abandon.

Although TÂCHES is an undeniably creative mind who understands the harsh realities of this complex world, he instead chooses to invest in the wondrous beauties of human connection and meaningful relationships. With a strong commitment to bettering himself every day as he continues his purposeful journey through life, TÂCHES possesses the rare ability to genuinely find passion everywhere goes because he rejects the questionable concept of seeking inspiration--as we can see in Heart Over Heels.

On his creative process, TÂCHES expanded:

“Seeking inspiration is counterintuitive because if you don’t end up finding it where you search for it, you may just stop going down a certain path if you see no results instantly. The key is to build your own natural curiosity that exists detached from results. When you are constantly evolving and reevaluating your thoughts and interests, inspiration will come about a lot more frequently than if your sole purpose is to find it.”

An impressive collection of five truly captivating tracks, Heart Over Heels desperately encourages listeners to appreciate every opportunity we’re given because life is too short to waste a single moment. Although TÂCHES’ songs are generally instrumental-based, he always draws on his own personal memories and the stories he wants to share with the world. The delightful opening track, “Sofia’s Theme” sees TÂCHES hopelessly swooning over an incredible girl, and “Dances With Wolves” is a firm declaration of living truthfully without regrets. “I Don’t Look Back” promotes a life of minimalism, and “Meet You In The Moonlight” suggests that you may need to ironically lose yourself in the process of finding yourself. The bittersweet closing track, “Stay Together” is a true profession of love, with TÂCHES saying, “I would miss a million and one flights for you.”

On Heart Over Heels, TÂCHES shared:

“Your heart will tell you why; your head why not. Live your life wisely for time is running out. You know what you must do. Do it now.” 

In Heart Over Heels, TÂCHES evokes an eerie sense of nostalgia coupled with flavorful dance rhythms and attention-grabbing instrumentals. With an avant-garde style, TÂCHES places significant value on maintaining artistic independence and ultimately staying true to himself. His sonic metamorphosis stems from the countless life-changing experiences he’s allowed himself to learn from and his extreme desire to showcase human evolution through his dynamic music.

TÂCHES shared his opinion on creative freedom:

“Being able to choose on a case by case basis how I wish to express a particular sentiment or emotion, without fear of being judged for the direction that an idea may decide to take. This begins and ends within YOU. Once you implement this into your mindset, there are no rules, just possibilities. Judgement is useless and serves you no purpose but to waste precious time. Create, create, create. If you have even the tiniest inclination that you are here to create, you owe it to yourself (and the rest of humanity) to make it your mission. To live without passion is to not live at all.”

Enter TÂCHES’ world of nirvana with Heart Over Heels below:

[tnffc]

Okay so this one sounds like it could be full of potential. “Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?”

Considering how long this thing got I have to agree, a lot of potential…

Is it good potential? I have seriously no idea, but I am happy it’s done so yeah…have at it, I hope you enjoy

_________________________

When Peter had decided to get back into dating he had planned for many things.

One thing he had not planned for was his own commitment to keeping that little troublemaker Stiles alive. And the things he’d give up for that commitment.

Peter would call them friends, though he wasn’t sure Stiles would agree.

Their main activity together was taking care of threats before they came to Scott’s attention and then usually cooking together afterwards, eating while watching a movie or playing on Peter’s several gaming consoles.

It had taken him a while to catch up with pop culture but he finally felt on top of his game again. An achievement the young man had definitely played a role in.

As a friend Peter had talked with Stiles about the matter of dating, asking him for advice on how to go about it. Stiles had been surprisingly well informed for someone who - as far as Peter was aware- had only ever dated one person. Peter’s daughter. A part of their past the three of them usually willfully ignored or glossed over. Though Peter probably was the one who had the least issues with it. He obviously had never spoken with either of them much about what had happened but considering the two still were fairly close to each other he supposed it maybe just worked better for both of the young adults to keep it platonic. Sometimes things turned out that way. He was just glad they had stayed close because it was obvious Stiles helped Malia to connect to her human nature and Malia helped Stiles with his occasional anxiety and his tendency to overthinking.

Stiles had introduced Peter to Tinder, Grindr and Only Lads, he had also mentioned Peter might want to use messengers like Telegram or Kik, since those were more anonymous than Whatsapp. When Stiles had mentioned Peter might also like a website called FetLife Peter had nodded. At least that was something he had already found himself.

Dating definitely had changed in the last years, but Peter found his way easily enough, everything was very user friendly and the rest of the equation was people. He had no problem figuring out people. Well most people, there were exceptions to every rule.

It didn’t take long and Peter had a hand full of candidates who met his current requirements of being attractive, smart, snarky enough to hold their ground with him and morally at least somewhat flexible. To find those few meant he had to filter through a lot of people below that threshold, but Peter had never had a problem with telling people to fuck off in the politest way possible.

~*~

Four weeks into the endeavour Peter had his first date.

Dr. Ferawro, as his name was on Grindr was beautiful and charming. His actual name was Josep Ferrero, he actually was a surgeon and they had a lot in common, such as their love for expensive cars, their annoyance with people who asked unnecessary questions and their guilty pleasure to watch ‘Say Yes to the Dress’.

They were on a good way to fuck each other in either one of their cars or one of their beds when Peter’s phone rang with Stiles’ ringtone.

He apologized and stood up to take the call outside.

As it turned out Stiles was trapped on a tree because he had angered a Camahueto. How the fuck he had encountered such a creature Peter really had no idea but the cracking noises and Stiles’ very serious pleading to come fast and safe him was enough for Peter to know he had to go and rescue the idiot.

So he apologized to Josep because an emergency had come up, payed for their food and left.

~*~

Josep later texted him, asking if everything turned out ok and Peter looked down at Stiles who had dozed off with his head in Peter’s lap as they had watched some netflix to calm him down from the adrenaline rush of almost dying.

Peter: Yeah, my apologies again, if you want I can make it up to you…

Peter didn’t expect to get a message back as quickly as he did.

Josep: Would you meet me tonight and fuck my brains out in your Maybach?

Peter looked down at Stiles again, would he freak out if Peter wasn’t there when he woke up?

Should Peter just wake him up and tell him he was going out to pick his date up roughly where he had left it?

Something inside him - in that moment he’d have called it instinct, though later he was pretty sure it just had been his subconscious already understanding what was going on - told him it’d be bad to leave Stiles now.

Peter: I am afraid I can’t.

The next message took a little longer and when Peter read it he understood why.

Josep: That’s a shame, but it is what it is. Since I am not in the business of running after anybody, no matter how rudely attractive they might be I suppose this is where we part ways. I had a nice evening despite you rushing off and should fate ever bring us together by chance again I’d still be open to some casual action. Best of luck.

Whelp, there went his first chance to find someone permanent. He would not say no to a little fun with Josep either but it wasn’t like he was short in supply of booty calls, what he wanted was a partner.

Peter: I understand and appreciate the honesty. Best of luck to you too.

~*~

They caught the Camahueto and didn’t even have to kill it, it had just been lost and Stiles had startled it. After leading it back to it’s original track everything was all right.

At least until Peter’s next date.

This time Peter wasn’t as torn as with the first because the guy, his name was Domian, had a voice Peter could hardly listen to. Maybe his personality was great, Peter could barely tell because that voice irritated him to no end. It wasn’t high pitched or anything but flat and even and lacking almost all intonation.

He might still have fucked the guy, he looked cute enough and Peter had a perverse curiosity what that voice sounded like when the guy was in lust, but it didn’t come to that because there was another call from dear Stiles.

Peter didn’t apologize himself but just mumbled “I gotta take this” and picked up.

“Peter, I have a…uh…a little problem…”

Peter sighed “I feel flattered you call me whenever you are in trouble darling, but this is somewhat a bad time.”

Stiles sighed “I know, I know,  you mentioned meeting with someone, I’m really sorry but…Wiggle has escaped and I may or may not have been experimenting some of my new potions on him…”

Peter’s eyes narrowed.

“Which ones?”

He heard Stiles swallow.

“Visibility…and size…”

He couldn’t keep in a groan.

“You know, for someone so smart you can be incredibly stupid sometimes…”

He practically heard Stiles roll his eyes.

“Will you come help me?”

Peter gave his date a last glance.

“Yeah ok…but you owe me.”

He hung up before Stiles could answer.

His attention was on the man in front of him.

“So, this is unpleasant. But my friend’s snake has escaped and it’s not the small kind so he needs help. I’ll pay the meal as an apology but I have to go.”

Domian frowned.

“No one else can help him?”

Peter just shrugged noncommittally, aware that response would likely kill any chances he had had with the guy.

It wasn’t a huge loss.

~*~

Peter found Wiggliam Snakespeare by scent easily enough and the snake was used to him so it didn’t try to attack him - not that it would have done much damage.

An hour later the little big boy had been shrunken to its natural size and made visible again.

Stiles thanked Peter and jokingly offered to blow him since he had basically blue balled him.

Peter declined. If he got sexual attention he wanted it to be desired on both ends and not out of a sense of obligation.

After declining though he left fairly quickly because looking at Stiles lips too long, having his scent dominate the air around him wasn’t helping him make peace with that decision.

They had flirted before but he had always known it was just fun. And nothing to ruin one of his best friendships over.

If he thought of Stiles smiling at him, kissing him and having his mouth all over Peter’s body while he pulled himself off in the privacy if his home then nobody needed to know that.

~*~

Date three went so well, so god damn well!

Maggie was lovely, smart and witty, she had an answer to everything, strong opinions, the right ones too. Besides that she smelled comforting but not boring, her whole personality spoke of someone grounded yet energetic, spontaneous but reasonable. She told him openly about her profession of telling fortune and making low level protective penchants. When she mentioned it the faint smell of ozone clicked into place for Peter.

He could see she was delighted he believed her from the beginning and when she asked him if it was okay if she read a little bit in the potentials his future held he hesitated only a short moment.

Knowledge was power, there was nothing to say against having a bit more of it still.

So she took his hand.

Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh…I see, you aren’t human…mh…and I probably should have mentioned I can see the past as well…”

He was surprised she didn’t sound horrified or disgusted then, just apologetic.

“If I had had an inkling about the suffering you had had to endure I would have mentioned it Peter…I am sorry…poor man…”

He frowned “Hardly…I got what I deserved…”

She smiled like you would with a child.

“Parts of it, yes…others not so much…but I am glad you are doing so much better. I can see a person that played a big role in that…several people but one in particular…you should keep that person close…oh…you really should…if you do your future will be magnificent…you will have a beautiful bloom with that person at your side…that does mean though…”

Her smile turned melancholic.

“It means you and I won’t come together. There is a future I see where we could, and it would be pleasant, sweet even, but mediocre at best compared to how bright you could burn with that other person.”

Peter was somewhat confused.

“Who?”

Maggie smiled, still a little sad “The one calling you in about half an hour.”

Peter furrowed his brows in contemplation.

“And you are saying I should pursue that person? Half the people that might call me I’m related to…”

Her smile became teasingly.

“I doubt that will be the case, but no, I don’t mean romantically, not necessarily at least…what is yet to come is seldom clear enough to determine things like that. The only indicator I can give you is this one: The future I saw will probably not happen if you start a relationship with someone else.”

She patted his hand and then let go.

“Now, the fact we won’t become an item doesn’t mean we can’t have a nice dinner and a great night together. So what do you say we continue this?”

Peter nodded after a moment and ordered some more wine.

~*~

Half an hour later they were almost done with their main course and Peter’s phone rang with Stiles’ ringtone again.

“I-”

Maggie nodded “Take it”

He did and Stiles voice was low and hushed.

“I have a problem…I accidentally stumbled into a vampire nest…”

Peter sighed.

“Which kind of vampire?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do they have the classical elongated canines or are their entire teeth more like just a little pointier than normal.”

Stiles sounded a bit tense “I don’t know man…they are sleeping, I’m not gonna check their teeth.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose “Okay okay…so their faces look fairly human or different?”

“Different.”

“How?”

“Their ears are longer, the nose flatter…everything is a bit elongated I think…their limbs don’t look entirely human either…”

Good.

“Those are Emote Siphoners, a lesser known vampire form, fairly harmless, they feed off strong emotions, nothing physical like blood. If they wake up they might swarm you and take your stronger emotions away but they won’t stop you. They have enough food in a town like Beacon Hills. They might actually play with you if you engage them.”

Stiles huffed.

“Sounds like you’ve done that before.”

Peter grinned “They aren’t smart and reproduce fairly naturally, they are basically animals, I had one as a pet for a while, it was cute and helped with the stress in college.”

There was a low frustrated grown on the other end of the line but when Stiles spoke again it was with a certain fondness “You’re so weird Peter…”

He chuckled “I know. But if you don’t mind I’d like to get back to my date now.”

He could hear Stiles swallow.

“Right, your date. I totally forgot.”

Stiles had gotten pretty good at lying, to the point where even Peter wasn’t always sure but that certainly sounded fake.

“Well, now I reminded you and I’ll hang up now, okay?”

A small pause.

“Yeah…yeah okay…thank you for helping me even though you are busy. Have fun Peter.”

He felt a weird sense of guilt but pushed it aside for a bright smile.

“Thank you, have fun with the Emotes.”

A dry, slightly forced laughed “Thanks, goodbye Peter.”

“Goodbye Stiles.”

He hung up before the conversation could venture into actual awkwardness and looked at Maggie who had purposefully ignored the conversation and concentrated on her food.

“Ok, I promise after this we can just chat about fun things and have amazing, filthy sex, but I have to ask. You said the future is rarely clear enough when I voiced uncertainty about a possible romantic relationship with the person I just had on the phone. Now, after I tell you I would not mind that, would you change the vague but suggestive answer you gave me?”

Maggie’s lips curled into a mischievous grin and her dark, brown eyes were positively gleaming.

“That young man interrupted every single of your dates so far. You know how it is, one is an incident, two is coincidence, three is a pattern. Which would make four enough to take action I’d say.”

Peter couldn’t help but shake his head and grin.

“That actually sounds like something Stiles would say. So you are suggesting I should set up a fourth date to see if he keeps the pattern going?”

She shrugged “There is a slight chance he might not, because of your conversation right now he learned that you don’t necessarily come every time he calls…”

“So you didn’t just offer me the chance to go that glorious path you saw for me but at the same time gave me the chance to screw it up by convincing me to spend tonight with you anyway…”

A provocative smile and a shrug were the answer.

He huffed and grinned wider.

“You are quite the snake, aren’t you?”

Maggie grinned back.

“In a biblical sense, sure, I love to tempt. But admit it, you wouldn’t have considered staying if it wasn’t for the fact I can actually rival you.”

“True. So what am I supposed to do?”

She leaned back and suggestively played with a strand of her dark red hair.

“Eat with me, sleep with me, move on and lay an irresistible trap for your future Beau.”

He leaned back as well and played with the stem of his glas.

“If you put it like that. How do you feel about dessert?”

~*~

After that night Peter observed Stiles’ behavior around him and others more closely than before.

He hadn’t paid that much mind to it so far but now realized Stiles was more physical when they were alone than he was with anybody else - even Scott.

It wasn’t like Stiles got crazy physical with him, but they just spent a lot of their time alone together in close contact, either sitting next to each other, elbows touching, when they watched movies Stiles usually sprawled out on the couch, at least one body part placed in Peter’s lap, when they cooked with each other Stiles moved around him and placed small touches here and there.

Peter had just written it off as Stiles imitating scenting behavior to connect himself to the more instinctive aspects of the pack bond, and maybe that was part of it, but it was clearly more than that.

And the idiot Peter was he had not looked at it more closely because he had locked away any idea of him and Stiles possibly being more than friends.

He had to admit the fact it had taken a clairvoyant to point him in the right direction had bruised his ego at least a little bit.

But now he was reciprocating more consciously, as part of his plan.

He would intensify their connection, reciprocate the physical contact, invite Stiles more often just to spend time together, amp up the flirtatious comments, and then make plans for a fourth date, but mention he wasn’t all that sure he was interested in the person. It’d make it easy for Stiles to decide to interrupt his date again, whether it was conscious or subconscious.

~*~

And so it came.

Peter’s fourth date actually wasn’t a real person though - he had no interest in pretending he liked somebody just to use them when he could just as easily pretend he was meeting with somebody.

After all, it wasn’t even really a lie, he did intend to meet with somebody that evening, Stiles just didn’t know the person Peter wanted to meet was him.

And Peter actually started answering Stiles’ questions with that in mind.

“What’s the guy like?” Stiles asked, lounging on Peter’s couch, tome in hand.

Peter hummed in thought and leaned against the back of the couch with his hip while deciding which tie to wear.

“He is a lot younger than me…something I wouldn’t usually consider, but he hits all other criterias. The biggest question is if he’s actually into me…”

Stiles raised one brow - had he adapted that from Peter? Possibly…

“Why? If he is down for a date I’m sure he’s got the hots for your Daddy Bad-Touch vibe.”

Peter glared at the younger man.

“What did I ever do to suggest I deserve that title?”

Stiles grinned up at him and had the audacity to nudge Peter’s hip with his toes.

“Nothing really, not since the wrist grab…it’s more this.” he motioned his hand to refer to Peter’s general person “Probably mostly the goatee though I think.”

“I can get rid of it.”

“No, don’t, I like it.”

“You also like wearing khakis and onion-like layers of clothing, clearly you can’t be trusted in such matters.”

Stiles pretended to be hurt and frowned.

“You’re a mean one Mr. Hale.”

Peter hummed pleased “I’m not sure I should be as into you calling me that as I am…”

Stiles shrugged “You can always ask the twink you are meeting if he wants to do some teacher/student role play.”

Already at the door to his apartment Peter chuckled at the comment “You kinky little brat, I never even said anything about role-playing.”

~*~

Instead of going on the actual date Peter went to Stiles favourite Indian Restaurant and got them their usual. He then went to the convenience store and bought Stiles favorite ice cream and soda.

As he had guessed Stiles called him when he was on the drive back to his apartment.

He picked up with a grin: “Stiles. Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?”

He could basically hear Stiles’ flail his limbs in an attempt to justify himself.

“I don’t always- I mean it’s not- I…I I’m…I need your help.”

Peter sighed a bit exaggerated “You were at my place less than an hour ago, in how much trouble could you possible have gotten yourself?”

Peter had made a slight gamble by assuming Stiles would stay at his apartment if he invited him there this evening for some “research” but it hadn’t been a bad one - Stiles was an eager learner and Peter had a lot of books on magic to offer. He had even bought a new one so Stiles had a book he didn’t have had the chance to read before.

On the other end of the connection Peter could hear Stiles shuffle.

“I…I might have tried out a spell and it backfired? Your flat is ok but I’m in a precarious situation, seriously…I need your help.”

Peter waited for a few moments to make it seem like he was weighing his options and then sighed.

“Ok, I’ll be there in twenty.”

He hung up without saying goodbye to seem frustrated and continued to drive home, the smell of the Indian food already filling the car.

~*~

When he came up to his own flat’s door there was another smell, also food but less spicy, potatoes, champions, leak, bacon, cheese…and maybe rice?

He unlocked his door and the smell got stronger. Definitely rice.

A few steps into his flat and he saw Stiles, wearing an apron and carrying a steaming pot to the sweetly decorated table.

“What….is going on?”

Stiles smiled at him and then raised a brow when he saw the bags with food containers, soda and ice cream.

“I could ask the same, you took your sweet time to come and ‘rescue’ me if you bought food on your way back from your date…”

Peter placed the bags on the counter.

“There never was a date…but…what…why…”

He gestured to the candles and flowers, the bottle if wine, the two plates and fancy glasses, the still steaming pot that smelled awfully delicious.

Stiles blushed “Eh….Maggie and I…”

Peter felt he knew where that might be going.

“Did she put the idea I was into you in your head? Because Stiles…I would never want this unless you-”

Stiles snorted and crossed his arms.

“No Peter, shut up. I met Maggie a while ago and she taught me some basic fortune telling. During that time we realized we both had a possible future with you. She made it very clear my future with you was the more powerful one and insisted on me taking the chance…pointing you in the right direction was her idea…but I might have given her some tips on how to sell it.”

Well this was a twists he hadn’t anticipated.

“So you played me.”

It wasn’t a question but Stiles nodded.

“I did.”

“The entire time you knew I was into you.”

“No. A big part of this was trying to find out if you were. If your date with Maggie had turned out differently I would have pulled away from you. After all she told you the truth, there are other possible futures for you. And neither I nor she can see all of them, time is a fickle matter.”

He had some conflicting feelings about this situation.

“You lied to me.”

Stiles nodded again.

“On many matters. Before and after I realized my feelings.”

Peter could hardly judge, he was a passionate deceiver, but dishonesty was no base for a relationship.

“If we do this there can’t be lies or secrets between us.”

He saw Stiles give him a dangerous smile.

“Careful Peter, you are the one with all the secrets…are you really willing to share all of them with me?”

He hesitated only a moment before nodding.

“If it goes both ways and we use a secrecy spell I have no problem with that.”

Stiles’ body relaxed a little but not fully and a wary, careful but genuine smile tugged on the corners of Stiles’ mouth.

“So you aren’t angry I tricked you?”

Peter huffed at the sign of insecurity and reached out to cup the younger man’s face, smiling warmly.

“On the contrary, I am pretty turned on by it.”

The last tension left Stiles’ body and he slumped a little against Peter, leaning their foreheads together.

“Figures…”

Then, with an almost innocent glance into Peter’s eyes he asked “What do we do now?”

“Now…” Peter almost purred and reached out next to them and grabbed a pint of ice cream out of the bags, holding it to Stiles’ neck “…we put away the groceries and eat whatever is smelling so lovely in that pot over there.”

Stiles had screeched and cursed before huffing but followed Peter’s orders.

“At least we have food for tomorrow as well.” he mentioned cheery as he placed the food containers of indian deliciousness in Peter’s fridge.

Peter had snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, playing with the bow of the apron he had tied in the front, head resting on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Just tomorrow? I think we could stay in for at least three days…maybe four…”

Stiles leaned into Peter’s embrace after a short moment of surprise and hummed lowly and content.

“Sounds like you got big plans…”

Peter chuckled and nibbled gently on the tendon in Stiles’ neck.

“Would it be too creepy if I said I wouldn’t mind if your scent became as familiar to me as air is to other people?”

The rumbling noise between a humm and chuckle Stiles made was nice and soothing to Peter’s instincts.

“No, with you it’s sweet. Come on now, let’s eat before you break the skin on my neck out of hunger.”

Peter had almost forgotten the food but followed the order.

“All right Darling, what did you make?”

“Risotto, since you mentioned you didn’t have any in quite a while.”

Peter sat down and grinned.

“What an attentive young man. Boyfriend material if I ever saw some.”

Stiles grinned as well and shook his head.

“Sappy idiot.”

[lost-your-memory]

So many angsty death prompts- my poor heart can hardly take it!!! Can you do an angsty Supercorp or Supercat fic that has a happy ending or at least a hopeful ending?!

Here you go anon, I started this like a month ago and I don’t have the inspiration to give it a better ending so … Oh, it’s Supercorp btw and don’t mind the lousy plot, like I said, inspiration isn’t really here lately …

The sound of the rain beating up the asphalt of the narrow street was soothing, soft and regular, a little melancholic.The world looked altered, with the dim light of the neon signs glowing distortingly under the deluge and trembling across the rippled surface of the puddles and flashy splashes of red, yellow and blue were catching the eyes of the aimless wanderer that strolled along the small avenue.From time to time, the disruptive sound of someone stepping in the pools of rain would break the quiet and monotonous noise of the rain but otherwise, not even the low chatter of people could drown it.Walking along with the disparate flow of people, a transparent umbrella loosely resting against her shoulder to protect her silhouette from the drenching rain, Lena was lost in her thoughts as much as she was carried away by the ambiance, by the quiet melancholy of this colorful but rainy street hidden away in the very heart of Tokyo.It had been two years since her failed attempt at being the CEO of a media company she knew nothing about in the first place. Not that she didn’t try, of course.After all, she had been trained her whole life to take over the Luthor empire and despite all the misogynistic reservations the board members had and the judgmental, hungry-for-blood eyes of the press was keeping on her, she did succeed.With CatCo however, she did not.She had made many mistakes and ruined a good number of relationships in the process, but at least she could still find some solace in the fact she did some good with L-Corp.The air smelled like warm ramens and fresh water, green grass and lotus flower and she smiled. It was a broken smile but a smile nonetheless.

A blue neon sign flashed a little further down the street and the gleam the rain gave the color made her think of a pair of equally sparkling blue eyes. She shook her head, trying to chase the image away but she should know better.Kara Danvers had always been persistent, whether it was the woman herself or the memory of her.She had fallen in love with those eyes, pure and kind and yet sometimes hooded with a darkness that had looked all too familiar to the last Luthor standing. She had tried to pinpoint the exact moment when she knew she was in love with the CatCo reporter, Cat’s former assistant and protege, but looking back in time, she couldn’t decide on one memory only.It was an ensemble of souvenirs, gentle touches and kind smiles, free discussions about silly topics and some more serious ones, a constant presence she didn’t know she needed before meeting Kara.Of course, she didn’t know about Kara’s other identity at the time. She was just happy to have a friend and maybe she had hoped for more but in retrospective, it would have never worked out.“A Luthor and a Super, working together”. Her own words still echoed in her mind from time to time, rimed with a bittersweet echo, the stinging pain of a half-truth that had somehow become a shameful joke.When Supergirl had killed Lex, at the end of what had been one of the most deadly fight in all the history of National City, Lena had recognized those hooded blue eyes.They were lined with much more darkness than what she was used to seeing, haunted with regrets and sadness and yet, they were firm and sure.When Supergirl had landed before her, carrying the lifeless body of her fallen brother in her arms, her world had crumbled and eventually, it all fell apart. She could see the lies as clearly as the blue of Kara’s eyes, bright and sharp and cutting at her already twisted soul.She didn’t crack back then, because after all, she was a Luthor and let it be said that the with the infamous name came an unhealthy ability of never letting any weakness sign shows. She was broken inside, the death of her brother not being as painful as the realization that the woman who she thought was her friend, on whom she had a hopeful crush on, was National City’s most beloved superhero.The lies were more painful than the fact Supergirl killed her brother, because in her mind, Kara Danvers killed Lex.The frontier between Kara and Supergirl was blurred by blood and her memories were beginning to suffer from the stain of it.After that, she had sold CatCo to the highest bidder, and she had boarded on the next commercial flight for Tokyo. Sam was taking care of L-Corp in National City and so Lena ran away, flew away even. She knew it was pointless to try to escape Supergirl, who could round the planet in a few minutes but still.She had started working for the Japanese L-Corp firm, in the R&D department and she liked it there. It was quiet and calm, no one cared about her name or her fortune and no one expected anything else from her than to be good at her job. Which, she was.Finally free from the enormous administrative procedure and the incredible pressure that came with the CEO title, she was happy to be tinkering all day long, the work being interesting enough to take her mind off her past.Then again, as much as she loved to work, she couldn’t possibly work around the clock and sometimes, she had to give in to sleep. It never worked, despite the pills, the booze, the many tips and medicine advises she sought.The nightmares were too vivid and the memories were all red and dark, with flashes of blue that made her angry.Which explained the wandering trip at 2am, in a forgotten street that never slept, amongst people who had no idea who she was, who didn’t care, and under a never ending rain.It was soothing, like the mother’s lullaby she was never good enough to deserve. She was exhausted, the tiredness weighing heavy upon her bones and slowing her down considerably.She had always been lonely, for as long as she could remember. She had never been much of a social butterfly and the only person to ever give a damn about her had been her brother.Well, and his killer, she thought with a bittersweet chuckles.She had found, during the first six months following the debacle, that she missed Lex. She was truly heartbroken over his death and her broken hopes to ever make him see reason ever again. She had wanted to believe, until the very last moment, that he could be brought back on the right path and if she was being honest with herself, she blamed Supergirl for not letting him, them, a chance to work it out.She was mad at Kara for a lot more reasons than just killing Lex but from time to time, a flash of lucidity would make her see that Supergirl had no choice. In those moments, she would remember the darkness swirling in the haunted blue eyes, the pain, the regret and the steel too.Kara had tried to call, leaving messages Lena never brought herself to listen to.In the end, Kara stopped calling and she tried to text instead, so Lena dropped her old phone in a drawer and brought a new one for work purposes only. However, since she was still tied to L-Corp in some ways, she couldn’t get rid of her professional email address and Kara, well. She was a smart girl, so she started to send emails on both the private and work inboxes and as much as Lena wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to delete them all.She had a file in each of her inboxes, filled with unread emails from the girl who was once her friend.She was actually surprised that Supergirl didn’t show up in Tokyo after a few months of getting no answer but then again, she didn’t want to see the girl so it was all the better.She couldn’t avoid the big news splashed all over the big screens in the center of the capital or in the smaller TVs at work so she had seen some of Supergirl’s most famous fights and success but otherwise, she was doing her best to avoid anything related to the girl of steel and National City.That until yesterday, when her work phone had vibrated with a text from an unknown number. There were only three words to be read but Lena had been spiraling ever since. With grief and loss, mostly, old and familiar emotions for her but the infinite sadness was tainted with a side of despair this time, an anger sparkled by a general feeling of unfairness.“Jess died today”She had known about Jess’s condition of course, had known for years but somehow, the woman had always managed to look so healthy and so full of life that she had come to think of the risks as nonexistent.She didn’t want to go back, she didn’t want to have a single chance to cross paths with Kara Danvers but she knew there was no way to avoid it.She had to fly back to National City for the funerals, to take care of Jess’s family and to make sure her twelve years old boy was taken care of properly. She owed it to Jess, after everything they went through together.She was lost in her mind when a voice from her past whispered her name behind her.She recognized the soft voice, despite the new broken edge it held, the breathlessness around the end of her name that was unique and so infuriatingly hot. She didn’t have to turn around to know she would meet a pair of hooded blue eyes, sun-kissed curls framing a perfect face with a jawline made of steel and a nose of a royal kind.She wondered, for a second, if there would be glasses.“I know you don’t want to talk to me and you have every right to be mad at me but I am here to tell you that Jess isn’t actually dead,” Kara explained, her voice echoing through the sound of the rain and the low chatter of the people around them. It was clear and bright despite the pain and the regret, despite the lack of the usual hope that had once made her tone sound so bubbly and infuriating.Lena whirled around and stared in those ever so familiar ocean blue eyes, letting the memories swirl in her mind like a very well-known melody. The flash of a smile, the warmth of a hand on her forearms, the echo of a laugh and all the tenderness surrounding their more private moments.It was painful and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and ignore the alien superhero. Yet, she didn’t walk away.Maybe it was because Kara was, in fact, wearing glasses. Sure, they were smeared with raindrops but the eyes beneath were sparkling and gleaming, like the ocean itself.She hated herself for softening a little at the sight of Kara Danvers, in her plain civilian clothes, drenched with rain and looking a little miserable, her hair soaked wet and falling in heavy dripping waves upon her shoulders.The girl of steel was wearing a summer trench that did little to keep the rain at bay because from the dark color of it, the piece of clothing had already absorbed all the water that had fallen upon it and it was dripping on the street from the end of the sleeves and the rim of the coat. A pair of black converses was half-bathing in a pool of rain, surrounded by the soaked pant sleeves of Kara’s rather large blue jeans and the loose sweater looked as black as the night sky above their heads, heavy with rain as well.The words finally reached Lena’s mind and she narrowed her eyes at Kara, not trusting herself to use her voice just yet.“My sister got her into the WITSEC program because she helped us take a huge alien trafficker down and he’s been threatening her little boy. He has means and money so we thought it was best to make her disappear and to let the world believe she is dead,” Kara elaborated without being prompted and a wave of relief flooded over Lena’s mind as she took in what it meant.“I would have sent an email but you don’t open them and I wanted you to know, so I came in person,” Kara finished with a slight tilt of her head.The rain was running across her face, from the forehead to the chin, following the high valleys of her cheekbones and the small hollows along her nose, contouring her lips and then falling from her jawline onto the drenched street.She was still beautiful, Lena thought and she closed her eyes for a second, trying to reconcile the woman in front of her with her brother’s killer.“I should get going, I just … I just wanted to let you know the truth,” Kara whispered and she didn’t smile, which still looked a little odd since Lena was more used to the Sunny Danvers persona than the Supergirl one.“That’s rich, coming from you,” Lena answered with a snarky bite she didn’t know she was holding back until now. She hadn’t meant to start a fight but Kara’s word had hit a nerve and she was too tired to fight against her instinct, tonight.“I’m sorry?” Kara asked, obviously startled by Lena’s tone.“You heard me. It’s a little rich of you to tell me you came all the way to Tokyo to .. let me know the truth, like you said,” Lena retorted, anger boiling over as she took a step forwards to invade Kara’s personal space. “You’ve never let me in on the truth before now, have you?”Kara visibly flinched under the accusation, blinking in surprise and then looking up to meet Lena’s eyes.“Lena, I … I never meant to hide from you,” Kara started, taking a step back to reinstate the space in between them.“Liar.” Lena cut with a flowing flourish of her free hand and she then turned away, not in the mood for the discussion anymore.The rain was still falling, hitting her umbrella with a regular tud that didn’t sound so soothing anymore. The street was emptier, people having finally gone home for the night since it was closer to 4am now, and the rising day was still a few hours away.The neon had been, for the most part, turned off but a few remained on, glowing steadily in the rainy night.Lena felt strong, wet fingers close around the wrist of her free hand and she almost lost her balance when Kara pulled her back, forcing her to turn around and to grip the girl of steel’s arm to steady herself.“What are you …” Lena started but warm, soft lips found hers and the rest of her question died in a hungry, messy, desperate kiss that tasted like rain and tears.There was something surreal to the scene. The rain kept falling all around them, diverted by the umbrella Lena didn’t drop in the sudden move and the sound of it, soft but regular, strong, was the kind of memory making noise.The night was both silent and loud, with something like apprehension and relief floating in the air and the almost empty street was a movie-worth decorum for such a gesture, the neon glowing on the wet asphaltIt felt like a beginning and an end at once, it has the bitter sweetness of past mistakes and the hopefulness of a bright future and the incertitude was almost mysterious and tempting. Kara was warm and soft despite the steel of her muscle and the cold water running down her face, drenching her clothes and Lena could feel her own body give away. She had this ephemeral image of ice melting under the sun as she finally, finally returned the kiss.The umbrella fell on the street and she moved her now free hand to tangle it in Kara’s hair.It wasn’t silky, it wasn’t soft and she squeezed more water out of the not so golden locks anymore but it was a grip anyway, something real, something tangible and when the girl of steel circled her waist and burrowed her fingertips in the back of her black coat, when she felt the strength of the embrace, she felt invincible.It lasted a small eternity but like everything else in life, the end came all too soon.Kara pulled away and tilted her head, eyes darkening and Lena recognized the look. She longed for the time when she didn’t know what it meant, when she could just chalk it up to Kara’s adorable weirdness but now, all she could see was Supergirl.“I …” Kara started and that one word echoed in between them like a death sentence, heavy and final despite it being the very beginning of a sentence. They were still holding on to each other and Lena hated how safe and warm she was feeling.She was in love with Kara Danvers but she hated Supergirl with all the fiery anger of a Luthor and the lines were beginning to blur, twisted by loneliness and regret, by guilt and sadness, by this helpless feeling of irremediable fatality.“You have to go,” Lena whispered and she took a step back, leaving the warm embrace of Kara’s arms. It felt like ripping a part of herself apart but she did it anyway and she leaned over to pick up her umbrella.“Will you let me come back?” Kara asked and Lena looked up, surprised by the question.Kara’s eyes were so ever blue, glowing in the street light, sparkling under the rain and Lena hated how beautiful the girl looked. Somewhere underneath the wet clothes, a suit was ready to be exposed to the world and that too, Lena hated it.“Maybe,” Lena answered softly and it must have leaked in her tone that it was all she could give because Kara offered a soft smile.“I can do with a maybe,” she said and she took a step forward. Lena didn’t move away and the kiss was simple and delicate, like the soft move of a butterfly’s wings but it was hopeful and sure.Lena closed her eyes and revealed in the gesture, letting Kara’s soft lips soothe away her tormented feelings for a few seconds. For a time here, she finally felt at peace with herself, her mind quieted by the kiss, her heart soaring with love and her doubts and fears and raging emotions staying quiet for once.When she opened her eyes again, Kara was gone.

[bevioletskies]

20 questions [2/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: and so, the con begins! peter and gamora discuss the origins of their (fake) relationship, gamora has a girls’ night, and yondu has some tough love to give.  

word count: 4420 | total word count: 118k

a/n: the basic plot of guardians vol. 2 happened in this mashup universe of mine and is brought up in detail here, so spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet (but please go watch it, it’s an incredible movie).

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

To Gamora’s relief, everyone woke up at different times, avoiding any residual awkwardness from last night’s discussion. However, she hadn't counted on Nebula waiting to catch her right outside the shower.

“Nebula - I am in a towel - ”

“What is this nonsense I'm hearing about you and Quill?” Her pitch-black eyes seemed darker than usual. “Have you become too attached, sister?”

“Relax,” Gamora said, her own stomach tensing up. She really needed breakfast, not an interrogation. “It is part of the ploy for units.”

“Is that all?” Nebula said mockingly, an unsettling grin creeping across her face. “You have grown so fond of your Guardians, but Quill in particular has become a fixation of yours.”

“I consider him a friend,” Gamora said carefully. “A friend who I constantly threaten with a blade. Never a romantic prospect, no.” She sniffed, yanking her arm out of Nebula’s grip. “If you will excuse me, I need to get dressed. I have a lecture with the All-Father in thirty minutes, and I have no plans to get locked out of the Bifrost.”

As Peter ambled along the pathways of the Academy, occasionally pausing to twirl in time to his music, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching him. He perked up. Could his moves finally be attracting some wanted attention?

“Star-Lord!” someone called. Ooh, a female voice. His head snapped up, a roguish grin plastered on his face as he removed his headphones, and unceremoniously found a microphone shoved into his face.

“Oh, it’s Patsy,” Peter said weakly, trying his best not to sound disappointed. Not that he wasn’t excited to see Hellcat - it was just that he wasn’t planning on getting ambushed for an interview today. He did his best to give her a charming wink and smile. “What can I do for you?”

She seemed unfazed by his switch in attitude. “Is it true that you and Gamora are dating?”

“I - what? How did...how did you hear about that?” Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, wondering if this was a situation he could dance his way out of.

“Pepper informed me that the Guardians submitted their nomination forms this morning - in record time, by the way, I think the only other person more enthusiastic about this whole ordeal was Kamala - and noticed that you all put you and Gamora for Cutest Couple. Even Janet was surprised - she had no idea! What do you say to that?”

“Well.” Peter coughed, fumbling with the buttons on his Walkman. Dammit, he really should know by now how to escape a situation that didn’t welcome combat or his gun-slinging expertise. “Y’know, it’s something we’ve been wanting to tell people - so the ladies know I’m no longer available - but Gamora’s not a super PDA-y person. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to make it known.”

Patsy scoffed a little at Peter’s comment, but gave him a good-natured pat on the arm. “I’m happy for you two,” she said, a genuine warmth in her voice. “Oh, there she is now!”

“Wha - ” Peter spun to find Gamora practically sprinting towards him, her bookbag flying about behind her. He could practically hear the clatter of various knives rattling about inside. “Uh, hey, babe. You okay?”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Gamora snapped, apparently not in the mood to play. “You were supposed to meet me at the Milano at 4 PM, remember?” She grabbed him by the bicep and dragged, putting on no pretense that she was going to even acknowledge Patsy’s presence.

“Uh - sorry - I can give you a full interview if you call me at - ” But Peter was gone.

Patsy turned towards the camera with a shrug. “Cheese and crackers,” she said, eyes wide. “That was interesting.”

______

Gamora stomped in silence all the way back to the ship, though Peter tried his best (and failed) to get her to talk. When they boarded the Milano, Peter moved towards the communal table, but Gamora clicked her tongue disapprovingly and pointed towards Peter’s bedroom door.

“Well, if you insist - ow!” Peter rubbed at his arm, holding up his hands in defeat. He ambled towards his room. “I’m sorry, Gamora, I totally lost track of time.”

To his surprise, she let out a defeated sigh, the tensing in her shoulders releasing as she followed him in and closed the door. “It’s okay. I just - we needed to talk about the details of this ruse of ours before we officially tell anyone else.”

“Well then maybe, we shouldn’t have submitted the forms so soon. Who did that, anyways?” Peter set his Walkman and headphones down on his bedside table, the quiet strains of Fooled Around and Fell in Love filling the room.

Gamora eyed the Walkman suspiciously as if it were about to bite before settling herself down at the foot of his bed. “My guess is Rocket intends to make this more difficult for us for...what was that phrase you used?”

“Shits and giggles.” Peter nodded seriously.

“That sounds like a disease,” Gamora informed him. “Regardless, we have to come up with a story, quick. I imagine people like Patsy and Janet will want to know how we started dating and for how long.”

Peter settled in next to her, the warmth of his body radiating heat through where their shoulders were touching. Gamora wondered if he was even aware of how close he was. She had never understood the need for tactile interaction until that night Peter had offered to show her one of his films from his childhood, their legs pressed together side-by-side as they had squished into his bed. Ever since then, he had gotten quite comfortable at sitting close to her or touching her arm to get her attention. It was different than the way she grabbed him out of urgency or heat-of-the-moment anger. It was...gentle. Comforting, even.

“Ha!” Peter’s sudden exclamation startled her out of her derailing train of thought. He was holding up his holo-tab to her face, showing her a picture of...was that Ego the Living Planet?

“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked confusedly, though she reached for the tablet regardless.

“Four months ago, we...well, killed my dad.” Peter cleared his throat, suddenly sobering up from his unbridled joy. “It was an emotional moment, obviously. Led me to reflect on the people I had in my life and what they meant to me. Not to mention the most badass woman I know saved me from being used as a freaking battery for the next few millennia. So, after the battle was over, I told you I had a huge crush on you, and somehow, it turns out you felt the same way. We kissed, there was legit fireworks, and boom. Dating.”

Gamora stared at him for a moment before glancing back at the tablet. As requested by Director Fury, they had noted down every last detail of every mission into their reports (sometimes leaving things out to save their own asses, in all honesty. He didn’t need to know what Peter’s favour to Yondu was when they were doing a recovery mission on Contraxia). The most difficult mission the Guardians had taken on so far was bringing down Ego, as the other Academy students were too far away to call on for assistance, leaving them utterly alone. Although they were still apprehensive about their effectiveness as a team at the time, it was the realization that they were stronger as a family that had solidified their relationships with each other. Peter had been emotionally wrecked for at least a week afterwards, and even Rocket had left him alone to grieve for his mother all over again.

It was, in fact, the perfect plan. She could almost see Peter, in his melancholic, reflective state of mind, asking Gamora to meet him on the observation deck at midnight to tell her something important. Something he hadn’t really thought of before, but realized in the heat of the moment, in the seemingly endless void he had briefly been a part of as Ego had suspended him with “the light”. She could also imagine herself responding in kind, as the fight with Ego made her realize how important Peter was to her life, and the capacity in which she wanted to keep him there.

“That is...pretty smart, actually,” Gamora admitted, handing the tablet back. Peter pumped a fist in the air in victory. “It is short, to the point, and emotionally charged. I imagine Janet will cry when she hears it.”

“Exactly,” Peter nodded. “It doesn’t need extra details, it’s got death and tears and fireworks. It’s super romantic, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Gamora said quietly. Then she straightened up. “Four months then? Are there other things you think people will ask us about?”

“Knowing Janet? Everything,” Peter laughed. “She’s gonna dedicate like, fifty Instagram posts to us. Hashtag-relationship-goals.” He pulled up Janet’s blog. “What we do for dates, what our favourite things about each other are. I mean, we’re not just faking being a couple to fake being a couple, we have to be the cutest couple. Let’s start a list.”

“What do people usually do on dates?” Gamora asked, leaning over to scroll through the hundreds of posts Janet somehow had the time to make. “When you and I spend time together, it is usually combat training, studying, and missions.”

“We could say those are all forms of dates,” Peter said carefully. “Plus, y’know, listening to music. Watching movies.” His eyes widened so quickly that Gamora became briefly concerned they were to about to pop out of his skull. “I can tell people I got you to dance!”

“I thought we were trying to be realistic here, Quill,” Gamora said, narrowing her eyes at him. To her disappointment, that merely surprised a laugh out of him.

“Wait, are you really going to keep calling me Quill?” Peter said through his chuckles. “We have the opportunity for ridiculous pet names here.”

Gamora turned away in exasperation, only to find Peter’s room catching her attention in the process. She had only been in here a handful of times - Groot and Mantis tended to enjoy hanging out with Peter in here, whereas it seemed too intimate at times for her tastes - but he seemed to have decorated even more since the last time. His collection of 80s memorabilia was neatly laid out on the shelf above his headboard, a stark contrast to the haphazardness of the rest of his decor. Posters, stickers, photos, news clippings, all plastered along his walls, gifted to him from the other Terran students to help him catch up on their culture. The majority of the posters of attractive women, she suspected, were from Stark. On the wall locker Peter used to store his clothes, was that…?

“You have photos of us. The team,” she added hastily. Gamora remembered that day well - soon after being accepted into the Academy, Janet had taught the Guardians about social media and the importance of selfies. Peter was the only one who took interest, and managed to get a picture with each of his teammates. Drax was staring off at the wrong spot, Rocket was snarling at Peter, Groot was waving happily to the camera, Mantis was doing an awful impression of a smile, and in his photo with her…he was looking at Gamora instead of the camera, an odd expression on his face.

Next to that picture was an old, yellowed photo of Peter and his mother. Gamora had never seen it before, though she could recall the moments in which Peter described his mother and how beautiful she was, inside and out. She could definitely agree - blonde curls, bluer-than-blue eyes, and a sunny grin that positively radiated light. She was the light inside Quill, not Ego, Gamora thought to herself, turning back to look at him. “She is very pretty,” she said, gesturing at the picture.

“She was amazing,” Peter replied, smiling fondly. “I uh, don’t know if I ever told you guys this. My mom, she called me her little Star-Lord. I have a feeling she knew what my dad really was, since she told me I came from the stars.”

Gamora’s face softened. “That’s sweet. Although I suppose she would hate to know what your father’s true nature meant for you.”

Peter shrugged. “Not something I really want to dwell on. So, pet names? I’m a nickname kind of guy. I’ll probably just call you whatever pops into my head.”

“I call you Star-Lord sometimes, though mostly out of annoyance. It will not be a stretch for me to use it fondly as well,” Gamora suggested. “If people ask, I can explain its significance to your close relationship with your mother. I wish to honor her in our relationship by calling you that as well.”

He nodded, finally setting down the tablet. “Sure, sure. And uh, favourite things about each other? I can start.” Gamora nodded at him to continue. “Um. Okay. I think you’ve got really pretty hair. I admire how strong you are in battle, and how fiercely protective you are of your team and your sister. You’re also a freaking rockstar when you’re up on stage, even though we don’t have the same taste in music. And also, you’re secretly kind of funny. And nice.”

She felt herself gaping at him in shock, wondering how much of it was true. Gamora had expected him to make a lewd comment about her looks and a throwaway statement about her fighting prowess, not...this, this thoughtful, generous commentary on her as a person. Maybe Peter wasn’t such a hopeless case after all. “And how about me? Too many to count?” He grinned at her. Okay, never mind.

“You are the emotional centre of our group,” Gamora said carefully, staring down at the silver rings that adorned her fingers. She had no desire to put all her cards on the table. “You provide a breath of fresh air to our lives, especially when we have all suffered such hardships. I appreciate your ability to help us feel deserving of redemption.” She paused, letting her words sink in. She could practically feel Peter’s doe-eyed stare again. “You are also not terrible-looking.”

“Score,” Peter said, twirling a finger in the air as if to wave a flag. “I’m not terrible-looking!”

“Hush.” Gamora couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You have a low standard for compliments, don’t you?” She stood, stretching, in hopes that the conversation could soon be over. She was starting to feel...things. “Public displays will not be initiated by you, only me. People expect me to be distant, and it will be more surprising - and romantic - to see me opting to hold your hand or kiss your cheek. Plus, I don’t want to run the risk of accidentally impaling you if you try to touch me.”

Peter wisely didn’t point out the fact he often grabbed her arm in public already, and nodded. “Smart. Maybe you should run strategy on the next mission.”

Gamora rolled her eyes as she opened the door. “I practically do anyways. Your ‘twelve-percent-of-a-plan’ business was getting old.” The door slid shut before he could protest.

______

Hours later, Gamora found herself standing outside Janet’s dorm room, her hand hovering over the door with a sense of hesitancy. Wasp often hosted “girls’ nights” and had invited the women of the Guardians, but Nebula had predictably said no, and Mantis had to remain on the Milano to look after Groot, who had thrown a tantrum for unknown reasons and required Mantis’s gentle care.

They will definitely ask me about Quill, Gamora thought resignedly. At least our story is straight. Time to campaign for Cutest Couple, starting now.

Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing the unimpressed face of one Natasha Romanoff. Gamora was slightly relieved, to be honest - Natasha was one of the few non-Guardian friends she had made here, as they shared more similarities than she expected. “Gamora,” she greeted monotonously, stepping aside to let her in.

Janet’s dorm room was enormous, having talked Fury’s ear off until she got an entire four-person bedroom to herself. Not that Janet was selfish, no, she just wanted space for sleepovers and get-togethers like this. Gamora suspected she would become better at negotiations than the Director himself someday. There was a garish amount of yellow everywhere, from the bedspread to the paintings of bees, flowers, and sunsets. It honestly hurt her eyes a little bit.

Upon glancing around the room, Gamora spotted Patsy, Kamala, Jessica Drew, Daisy, and strangely enough, Elektra. Was this secretly an assassin’s club meeting?

Janet burst out of her ensuite bathroom, inexplicably wearing a fluffy yellow feather boa and a straw sunhat. “Gamora, you came!” she said happily. “Oh good, now the party can really get started. Sit, sit.”

Gamora found herself squished between Natasha and Elektra, who was staring at her reflection in one of her sai. “Can we get started already? I’m bored. You won’t like me when I’m bored.” She swung her dark hair out of her face, nearly hitting Gamora in the eye, her multitude of silver bangles clacking away on her arm. “Matthew tells me I’m dangerous when I’m bored.”

“You’re dangerous all the time!” Janet said cheerfully, settling down on one of her enormous yellow beanbags and removing her extraneous accessories. “Alright, ladies. Let’s discuss who we wrote in for our nominations.”

“Is that what this is about? You promised me that Tony had new stingers ready,” Natasha said, frowning.

“Later.” Janet waved a dismissive hand. “Who wants to start? Kamala?”

“I have too many ships,” Kamala said sadly, looking down at the list she had copied out from her form. “It took longer than I expected. But I did write down Captain America and Captain Marvel for Cutest Couple, even though it’s not technically canon.”

“I understood about half of what you said,” Jessica said amusedly, picking at her nails.

“I don’t know if that nomination will count, but it’s a good effort.” Janet clapped her hands together. “What did everyone else put for Cutest Couple?”

“My sister and Luke, obviously,” Patsy grinned. “She adores him, even though she refuses to say it out loud.”

“I didn’t put anyone,” Jessica admitted. “I was more interested in the other categories.”

“Same,” Daisy said quietly, and Gamora felt a moment of pity for her. She seemed oddly distant from the entire student body, even in Gamora’s eyes. Janet had been trying to break her out of her shell since her arrival, but her efforts could only accomplish so much.

“Myself and Matthew.” Elektra tipped her chin forward as if to dare the others to question her. “We have had interesting dates on the roof of SHIELD HQ. You wouldn’t believe the gossip we hear sometimes.”

“Cap and Agent Carter,” Natasha volunteered reluctantly when Janet fixed her with a challenging stare. Wasp then turned to look at Gamora, who felt herself shriveling up inside.

“I wrote myself and my boyfriend,” Gamora said, the word tasting foreign on her tongue.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and movement as everyone leapt up in surprise. Gamora had to duck as Elektra nearly impaled her thigh with a dagger in alarm. A high-pitched shriek emanated from the other side of the room, and she wasn’t sure if it was Janet, Kamala, or both in an attempt to wake up the whole building.

“OTP!” Kamala squealed. “Ohmigosh, you and Peter, right?!”

“I - yes?” Gamora eyed the other girl suspiciously. “Do I want to know what OTP means?”

“You don’t,” Natasha said firmly, patting Gamora’s shoulder. “I didn’t know you and Quill were together.”

“It is something we recently decided to be truthful about,” Gamora said, twisting her rings absent-mindedly as she spoke. “I was apprehensive about making it public since I wasn’t sure if it would last, but I think we’ve proven to each other that we’re a good match.”

“How did it happen?” Daisy’s shy voice caused the rest of the group to fall silent in anticipation.

“Well, do you all remember the mission from about four months ago, when we had to defeat Ego the Living Planet?” Nods of scarily well-timed synchronicity. “Quill was forced to kill his father despite having searched for him his whole life. It took a toll on him, but it also led him to reflect on the people he cared about. Including me.” The words felt thick in Gamora’s throat, unlike the way Peter had first spoke them - with reverence, as if it was a real thing that had happened that he looked back on with fondness. “He asked if we could talk, the night we held a sort of funeral for his father, and confessed that he had a crush on me. I told him I felt the same way but had felt apprehensive about being in a romantic relationship up until that point.”

“And then?” Janet’s eyes were almost as big as Mantis’s at this point.

“And then he kissed me,” Gamora said with a sense of finality. More squealing followed. She cursed her body modifications for providing an enhanced sense of hearing. “We have been together since that night.”

“How sweet,” Jessica smiled encouragingly. “Quill does seem little bit of a...well. But I’m sure he’s a good boyfriend to you.”

“He does still flirt with many women here,” Gamora sighed. “At times, I wish he acted more loyal, the way that Cage does for Jones. Then again, it’s nice to know every Terran doesn’t behave like Star-Lord.”

Janet emitted another high-pitched noise that left Gamora questioning whether she should have been nicknamed after a bat instead of a wasp. “You call him Star-Lord, like, all the time. You must love him a lot.”

Gamora froze. “I think it’s too early for that,” she said nervously. “But it’s the nickname given to him by his mother, so I thought I would honor her by continuing to call him that.”

“And what kind of things do you two get up to?” Elektra purred almost seductively, leaning in far too close for Gamora’s comfort.

“He likes to show me movies from his childhood,” Gamora said, eliciting an “aww” from Janet, Kamala, and Jessica. “I think it brings him joy to share his culture with me, even if I don’t always understand it.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Elektra said, wiggling her eyebrows dangerously.

“Leave her alone,” Natasha said, reaching around to shove at Elektra’s shoulder. “Not everyone wants to share those kinds of details.”

Elektra shrugged nonchalantly. “Life’s more fun on the edge, dear Widow. Are you telling me that the most dangerous woman in the galaxy wouldn’t be up to no good with her boyfriend?”

“We’re taking it slow,” Gamora interrupted before unnecessary bloodshed could occur, shooting Natasha what she hoped was a grateful look. “I think I’d like to stop talking about this now.”

“Agreed. No further questions,” Patsy piped up. “Who did everyone put for Nicest Abs, because honestly…”

_______

Peter yawned, rubbing at his sleep-weary eyes as he made his way down from the cockpit to the main deck of the Milano. He had managed to fix the nav system without Rocket’s help, but the ship still hadn’t quite recovered from yesterday’s literal crash-and-burn. If Rocket would finally stop arguing with Stark over who was the better engineer, Peter might finally be able to ask him for his help for stuff like this.

“Well, I’ll be.” Peter nearly jumped three feet in the air at the sound of Yondu’s voice. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, holding Peter’s holo-tab in one hand and an apple in the other. “You finally tell Gamora how you feel?”

“Shut up,” Peter exclaimed, darting forward to snatch the tablet back. It was open to Janet’s Instagram page, where she had posted a selfie of her and the other girls with the caption “#girlsnight is buzzing! Gamora’s giving us the latest scoop about her love life and I am atwitter! #besties #cute #squadgoals”.

“You’ve had a crush on her for how long now?” Yondu grinned, baring his rather awful teeth. “Ain’t never seen you been this excited over one girl before. And you finally got your act together.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just pretending to be dating so we can win the prize money from Wasp’s yearbook thing. You were there when we decided!” Peter exclaimed. “Gamora went to girls’ night so she could establish a story.”

“Come on, now, boy.” Yondu snorted, hopping off the counter with a crunch of his boots. Peter winced, he didn’t want to know what was in there. “You’ve been soft on her since the beginning. S’okay. You’re a Guardian now, after all. If you were a Ravager still, might be a different story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter glanced down at the picture, letting his eyes linger on Gamora’s half-smile for a moment before closing out of the browser window.

Yondu shrugged, tossing his apple back and forth in his hands, nonchalant. “The code, Quill. Can’t have a Ravager moping after a woman for too long, or he ain’t have his head in the game for thievin’.”

“I’m not moping!” Peter flailed his arms around aimlessly. “I’ve got plenty of other things to deal with - the broken ship, the lack of money, school. Gamora’s important to me and all, but not like that.”

“You keep lying to yourself, boy.” Yondu’s steps echoed as his boots clanged about on the metal walkway of the ship. “Don’t come cryin’ to me if you’ve got a broken heart at the end of all this.”

Peter, for once, was speechless. He had no snarky comment to throw at Yondu’s back. Instead, he opted to settle down on the couch and open up Janet’s Instagram account again, staring at the photo posted about an hour ago. The girls appeared to be doing some sort of mud mask, with varying success. Gamora had smeared hers on like warrior paint, emphasizing the silver markings on her face. Her smile, though rather half-hearted, left Peter smiling back. She was kind of adorable when she showed her gentler side, though Peter enjoyed her deadly nature with equal admiration.

Yes, being Gamora’s fake boyfriend could hardly result in anything going south, could it?

a/n: i love my guardians kids but i have a soft spot for avac!janet so she’s probably one of the more prominent “background” characters. also i don’t know if this happened for anyone else, but i hear “score, i’m not terrible-looking!” in andy dwyer’s voice moreso than peter’s haha

[tipstosellhomefast]

New Post has been published on Homes Below Market | Homes For Sale Dallas TX Area

New Post has been published on https://foreclosures-dallas-texas.com/london-home-structure-specialists-interior-psychology-component-one/

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[naivelocus]

Darwin Day: A personal offering

Two hundred and four years ago this day, Charles Darwin was born. The vision of life that he created and expounded on transformed humanity's perception of its place in the universe. After Copernicus's great heliocentric discovery, it was Darwin's exposition of evolution and natural selection that usurped human beings from their favored place at the center of the universe. But far from trivializing them, it taught them about the vastness and value of life, underscored the great web of interactions that they are a part of, and reinforced their place as both actor and spectator in the grand game of the cosmos. Not only as a guiding scientific principle but as an all-encompassing element of understanding our place in the world, evolution through natural selection has become the dominant idea of our time. As the eminent biologist Theodosius Dobzhansky put it quite simply, nothing in biology makes sense except in the light of evolution. Evolution is a fact. Natural selection is a theory that is now as good as a fact. Both evolution and natural selection happen. And both of them owe their exalted place in our consciousness to a quiet, gentle and brilliant Englishman.

Today it is gratifying and redeeming to know how right Darwin was and how much his theory has been built upon, and frustrating to keep on realizing how those professing religious certainty threaten to undermine the value of his and others' careful and patient discoveries. Especially in the United States evolution has become a bizarre battleground of extreme opinions and mudslinging, a development that seems to be in step with the tradition of coloring any and every issue with a political hue. In this country, it seems today that you can hardly utter an opinion without attaching a label to it. You cannot simply have an opinion or take a position, no matter how grounded in fact it is; your position has to be Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Neo-Conservative, Socialist or Atheist. If none of these, it has to be Centrist then.

When it comes to evolution, attaching the label of "Darwinism" has obscured the importance and power of the theory of natural selection. On one hand, those who defend the label sometimes make it sound as if Darwin was the beginning and end of everything to do with evolution. This is simply untrue; in his creation of the theory of natural selection, Darwin was a little like Martin Luther King. The Civil Rights movement owed an incalculable debt to King, but King was not the Civil Rights movement. On the other hand, those who oppose the Darwinist label make it sound like all of us who "believe" in evolution and natural selection have formed a cult and get together every weekend to worship some Darwin idol.

Unfortunately both these positions only serve to obfuscate the life and times of the man himself, a simple, gentle and brilliant soul who painfully struggled with reconciling his view of the world with prevailing religious sentiments and who thought it right to cast his religious views aside in the end for the simple reason that his findings agreed with the evidence while the others did not. Darwin Day should be a chance to celebrate the life of this remarkable individual, free from the burdens of religion and political context that his theory is embroiled in today. Because so much has been said and written about Darwin already, this will be more of a personal and selective exposition. Since I am a lover of both Darwin and books, I will tell my short story of Darwin as I discovered him through books.

When you read about his life for the first time, Charles Darwin does not evoke the label of "genius", and this superficial incongruence continues to beguile and amaze. His famous later photographs show a bearded face with deeply set eyes. His look is gloomy and boring and is not one which elicits the image of a sparkling, world-changing intellect and incendiary revolutionary taking on an establishment steeped in dogma. Darwin was not a prodigy by the standards of his English contemporaries William Hamilton or Lord Kelvin, nor did he particularly excel in school and college. He went to Cambridge, of course, but most well educated Englishmen went to Cambridge or Oxford. At Cambridge, although he studied religion, Darwin had one overriding quality: curiosity about the natural world. He consummately nurtured this quality in field trips and excursions; as one famous story goes, Darwin once held two beetles in two hands and popped one of them in his mouth so that he could free one hand for catching a third very attractive one which he had just noticed. He indulged in these interests much to the chagrin of his father who once said that he would not amount to anything and that he would be a disgrace to his family.

As is well-known, Darwin's story really begins with his voyage of the Beagle when he accepted a position on a ship whose melancholic, manic-depressive captain Robert Fitzroy wanted an educated, cultured man to keep him company on a long and dangerous voyage that circumnavigated the world. For Darwin this was a golden chance to observe and document the world's flora and fauna. One of the best illustrated expositions of Darwin's voyage is in Alan Moorhead's "The Voyage of the Beagle" which is beautifully illustrated with original drawings of the wondrous plants, animals and geological formations that Darwin saw on the voyage. Darwin's own account of the voyage is characteristically detailed and modest and depicts a man enthralled by the beauty of the natural world around him. By the time he set off on his historic journey, young Charles had already been inspired by his teacher Charles Lyell's book on geology that talked about geological changes over vast tracts of time: in time, “Principles of Geology” would become a seminal text and a touchstone of the Great Books program. As is also rather well known, evolutionary ideas had been in the air for quite some time by then (as marvelously documented in Rebecca Stott's recent book "Darwin's Ghosts", which traces evolutionary thinking back to Aristotle and even before), and Darwin certainly was not the first to note the rather simple fact that organisms seem to have changed over time, a view that nonetheless and naturally flew in the face of religious dogma. Most importantly, Darwin was well aware of Thomas Malthus's famous argument about the proliferation of species exceeding the resources available to them, an idea whose logical extension would be to conjecture a kind of competition between species and individuals for finite resources. The "struggle for survival", taught today in school textbooks, a phrase that became much maligned later, nonetheless would have been obvious to a man as intelligent and perceptive as Darwin when he set off on his voyage.

Biology, unlike mathematics or physics, is a science more akin to astronomy that relies on extensive tabulation and observation. Unlike a theoretical physicist, a biologist would be hard-pressed to divine truths about the world by armchair speculation. Thus, painstakingly collecting and classifying natural flora and fauna and making sense of its similarities and differences is a sine qua non of the biological sciences. Fortunately Darwin was the right man in the right place; endowed with a naturally curious mind with an excellent memory for assimilation and integration, he was also unique and fortunate to embark on a worldwide voyage that would enable him to put his outstanding faculties to optimum use. Everywhere he went he recorded meticulous details of geology, biology, anthropology and culture. His observation of earthquakes and rock formations in South America and his finding of fossils of giant mammals lend credence to his beliefs about organisms being born and getting extinguished by sometimes violent physical and planetary change. His observation of the Pacific and Atlantic islanders (especially the ones on Tierra del Fuego) and their peculiar customs underscored the diversity of human life along with other life in his mind. But perhaps his best known and most important stop came after several months of traveling, when the ship left Ecuador to dock at the Galapagos Islands.

Again, much has been written about the Galapagos Islands and about Darwin's Finches (most notably by Jonathan Weiner in his “The Beak of the Finch”). The truth is subtler, both simpler and more interesting than what it is made out to be. Darwin had mistaken his famous finches for other species of birds. It was only after coming back that his friend, the ornithologist John Gould, helped him to identify their correct lineage. But finches or not, the birds and the islands provided Darwin with a unique opportunity to study what we now know as natural selection. The islands were separated from each other by relatively small distances and yet differed significantly in their geography and flora and fauna. On each island Darwin observed similar plants and animals that were yet distinct from each other. As in other places, he also observed that species seemed to be adapted to their environment. Geographic isolation and speciation were prominent on those hot, sweaty and incredibly diverse landmasses.

After five years of exhaustive documentation and sailing Darwin finally returned home for good, much changed both in physical appearance and belief. His life following the voyage has been the subject of much psychological speculation since he settled down with his cousin Emma and never ever left the British Isles again. He also seemed to have been stricken with what today is noted by many authors as a kind of psychosomatic illness because of which he was constantly ill with abdominal and other kinds of pains. After living in London for some time, Darwin retired to Down's House in Kent where he peacefully lived the rest of his life with a kind and loving wife, playing with his children, taking walks along the path at the back of his house named the "Sandwalk", corresponding with intellectuals around the world and constantly interrupting his research with salutary visits to spas and resorts for "natural" treatments that were often of dubious value.

But peaceful as his life was, psychologically Charles Darwin was fomenting a maelstrom of revolution that was to have earth-shaking implications. Another fact that is frequently emphasized in contemporary discourse is his hesitation to not publish his ideas for another twenty-five years. Darwin was planning to write it for a while, but was finally jolted into writing it when he received a letter from an obscure young naturalist named Alfred Russell Wallace who was living a hard life of science and natural history exploration in Indonesia. Wallace had read some of Mr. Darwin's papers and manuscripts and had been struck by the similarity of his ideas to his own. Would Mr. Darwin comment on them? Darwin finally realized that he had to act to prevent getting scooped but characteristically credited Wallace in his published work.

In my mind however, Darwin's procrastination and its story sounds much simpler than the mystique and psychological speculation that sometimes envelop it. As we noted earlier, Darwin was a highly trained biologist and scientist of the first caliber. He knew that he would have to exhaustively document and classify the windfall of creatures, plant and rock specimens that he had collected on his voyage. Apart from thinking and writing about his Beagle collections, Darwin also maintained an astonishingly comprehensive and detailed research program on marine invertebrates and barnacles. More tellingly, he did experiments to find out if seeds are viable even when dispersed over long distances over salt-water. He visited gardens and zoos, and quizzed pigeon breeders about their profession. Much of this was in preparation for the grand act that was to follow. In case of the barnacles and marine creatures, Darwin's research was second to none. He published several extremely detailed books on the minutiae of these organisms; some of these had titles which would have put anyone to sleep.

And yet the level of detail in them reflects the extraordinary patience, power of observation and meticulous hard work that characterized the man, characteristics crucial for developing the theory of natural selection. Darwin was also very fortunate to have had several friends and colleagues who were experts in areas that he was not, who helped him classify and name all the material. Foremost among his correspondents were Charles Lyell and Joseph Hooker to whom he confided not just his scientific questions but also his emerging convictions about the interconnections and implications that were emerging from his research and writing. Also as noted above, John Gould accomplished the crucial task of reminding Darwin that his Galapagos birds were finches. With help from these collaborators and his own studies and thoughts on his observations, thoughts that filled literally dozens of rough drafts, scribblings and private diaries, Darwin finally began to glimpse the formation of a revolutionary chain of thought in his mind.

But Darwin did not rush forth to announce his ideas to the world, again for reasons that are obvious; Victorian England was a hotbed of controversy between science and religion, with many distinguished and famous scientists there and in other countries not just fervently believing in God, but writing elegant tomes that sought a supernatural explanation for the astounding diversity of life around us. Cambridge was filled with intellectuals who sought a rational framework for God's intervention. Darwin would have been quite aware of these controversies. Even though Darwin's grandfather (a more pugnacious character) himself had once propounded an evolutionary view, Darwin was finely attuned to the sensitive religious and social debate around him. Not only did he not want to upset this delicate intellectual and spiritual balance and get labeled as a crackpot, but he himself had not started his voyage as a complete non-believer. One can imagine the torment that he must have faced in those early days, when the evidence pointed to facts that flew in the face of deeply held or familiar religious beliefs. One of the factors that dispossessed Darwin of his religious beliefs was the stark contradiction between the observation of a cruel and ruthless race for survival that he had often witnessed first hand, and the image of an all-knowing and benign God who kindly reigned over his creations. As the evidence grew to suggest relationships between species and their evolution by the forces of natural selection that preserved beneficial characteristics, Darwin could no longer sustain two diametrically opposite viewpoints in his mind.

Opponents of evolution who want to battle the paradigm not from a scientific viewpoint (because they can't) but from a political one frequently raise a smokescreen and proclaim that evolution itself is too complex to be understood. The tricksters who propagate intelligent design further attest to the biochemical complexity of life and then simply give up and say that only an omniscient God (admittedly more complex than the systems whose complexity they are questioning) could have created such intricate beauty. The concept of a struggle for survival has also been hijacked by these armies of God who proclaim that it is this philosophy that would make evolution responsible for genocide, fascism and the worst excesses of humanity. This is a deeply hurtful insult to natural selection and evolution as only the most dogmatic believers can deliver.

One thing that constantly amazes you about evolution is its sheer simplicity. Stripped down to its essentials, the "theory" of evolution can be understood by any school child.

1. Organisms and species are ruthlessly engaged in a constant struggle for survival in which they compete for finite resources in a changing environment.

2. In this struggle, those individuals who are more adapted to the environment, no matter how slightly, win over other less adapted individuals and produce more offspring.

3. Since the slight adaptations are passed down to the offspring, the offspring are guaranteed to preserve these features and therefore are in a position to survive and multiply more fruitfully.

4. Such constant advantageous adaptive changes gradually build up and, aided by geological and geographical factors, lead to the emergence of new species.

It's almost like a simple three-step recipe that when followed keeps on churning out culinary wonders of staggering complexity and elegance. In my mind the beauty of evolution and natural selection is two-fold; firstly, as Darwin emphasized, the slightest adaptation leads to a reproductive advantage. Such slight adaptations are often subtle and therefore sometimes can sow confusion regarding their existence; notice the debate between driver and passenger mutations in fields ranging from evolutionary biology to oncology. But the confusion should be ameliorated by the second even more striking fact; that once a slight adaptation exists, it is guaranteed to be passed on to the offspring.

As Gregor Mendel hammered the mechanism for natural selection in place a few years after Darwin with his discovery of genetic inheritance, it became clear that not every one of the offspring may acquire the adaptation. The exact pattern may be complex. But even if some of the offspring acquire it, the adaptation is then guaranteed to confer reproductive fitness and will be passed on. This fact should demolish a belief that even serious students of evolution, and certainly laymen, have in the beginning; that there is something very uncertain about evolution, that it depends too much on "chance". The key to circumvent these misgivings is to realize the above fact, that while adaptations (later attributed to mutations) may arise by chance, once they arise, their proliferation into future generations is virtually certain. Natural selection will ensure it. That in my mind is perhaps Darwin's greatest achievement; he finally found a mechanism for evolution that guarantees its existence and progress. As for the struggle for survival, it certainly does not mean that it results in non-cooperation and purging of other individuals. As examples in the living world now document more than convincingly, the best reproductive fitness can indeed come about through altruistic leanings and cooperative behavior.

Every one of these factors and facts was detailed and explained by Darwin in "The Origin of Species", one of the very few original works of science which remain accessible to the layman and which contained truths that have not needed to be modified in their basic essence even after a hundred and fifty years. It was readable even when I picked it up as a callow young college student. No one who approaches it with an open mind can fail to be taken with its simplicity, elegance and beauty. One of the most extraordinary things about Darwin and something that continues to stupefy is how right the man was even when he lacked almost all the modern tools that have since reinforced basic evolutionary ideas. As one of Darwin's intellectual descendants, the biologist E O Wilson says, it is frustrating for a modern biologist to discover an evolutionary idea through his work, and then go back a hundred and fifty years and discover that the great man had hinted at it in his book.

And yet as Darwin himself would have acknowledged, there is much in the book that needed to be modified, there was much that he could not explain. Darwin had no inkling of genes and molecular biology, nor could he come up with a convincing mechanism that explained the sheer age of the earth required for evolutionary processes to work their charm (the mechanism was found later with the discovery of radioactivity). The exact mechanism of passing on adapted characteristics was unknown. Major fossils of primates and humanoid ancestors had yet to be discovered. Quite importantly, random genetic drift which is completely different from natural selection was later discovered as another process operating in evolution. The development of viral and bacterial resistance in causing diseases like AIDS finally brought evolution to the discomfort of the masses. It was only through the work of several evolutionary biologists and geneticists that Darwin finally became seamlessly integrated with the understanding of life in the middle twentieth century. Genomics has now proven beyond a shade of doubt that we truly are one with the biosphere. But in the absence of all these developments, it is perhaps even more remarkable how many of Darwin's ideas still ring true.

There is another factor that shines through in "The Origin"; Darwin's remarkable modesty. One would have to search very hard in history to find a scientist who was both as great and as modest. Newton may yet be the greatest scientist in history, but he was nothing if not a petty, bitter and difficult man. Darwin in contrast was a symbol of kindly disposition. He doted on his children and told them stories. He loved and respected his wife even though their religious views gradually grew more distanced. His written correspondence with her was voluminous and fond. His correspondence with his collaborators, even those who disagreed, was cordial and decent. Never one for contentious public debates, he let his "bulldog" Thomas Henry Huxley fight his battles; one of them with Bishop Samuel Wilberforce ended in a famous showdown when the Bishop inquired whether it was through his father or mother that Huxley had descended from an ape, and Huxley countered that he would rather descend from an ape than from the Bishop. Darwin stayed away from these entertaining confrontations; as far as he was concerned, his magisterial work was done and he had no need for public glory. To the end of his life this kind and gentle man remained a wellspring of modest and unassuming wonder. His sympathetic, humane and sweet personality continues to delight, amaze and inspire reverence to this day.

In the later stages of his life Darwin became what he himself labeled as an agnostic but what we today would probably call an atheist. His research into the progression of life and the ruthless struggle that it engenders made it impossible for him to justify a belief in a paternal and loving deity. He was also disillusioned by popular conceptions of hell as a place where non-believers go; Darwin's father was a non-believer and yet a good doctor who treated and helped hundreds of human beings. Darwin simply could not accept that a man as kind as his father would go to hell simply for not believing in a version of morality, creation and life trotted out in a holy book. Probably the last straw that convinced Darwin of the absurdity of blind faith was the untimely death of his young daughter Annie who was his favorite among all the children. According to some accounts, after this happened, Darwin stopped even his cursory Sunday trips to church and was satisfied to take a walk around it while not at all minding his wife and children's desire to worship inside.

The second fact is also in tune with Darwin's kind disposition; he admittedly had no problem reconciling the personal beliefs of other people with his conviction about their falsity. Darwin's tolerance of people's personal faith and his unwillingness to let his own work interfere in his personal life and friendships is instructive; to the end he supported his local parish and was close friends with a cleric, the Reverend John Innes. Darwin's example should keep reminding us that it is actually possible to sustain close human bonds while having radically different beliefs, even when one of these is distinctly true while the other one is fantasy. Nurturing these close bonds with radical scientific ideas that would change the world for ever, Charles Darwin died on April 19, 1882, a content and intellectually satisfied man.

To follow, nourish and sustain his legacy is our responsibility. In the end, evolution and Darwin are not only about scientific discovery and practical tools arising from them, but about a quest to understand who we are. Religions try to do this too, but they seem to be satisfied with explanations for which there is no palpable evidence and which seem to be often contradictory and divisive. It is far better to imbibe ourselves with explanations that come from ceaseless exploration and constant struggle; the very means that constitute these explorations are then much more alluring and quietly fulfilling than any number of divergent fantasies that can only promise false comfort. And these means promise us a far more humbling and yet grand picture of our place in this world. Especially in today's age when the forces of unreason threaten to undermine the importance of the beautiful simplicity in the fabric of life that Darwin and his descendants have unearthed, we owe it to Charles Darwin to continue to be amazed at the delightful wonder of the cosmos and life. We owe it to the countless shapes and forms of life around us with whom we form a profoundly deep and unspoken connection. And we owe it to each other and our children and grandchildren to keep rationality, constructive skepticism, freedom and questioning alive.

LITERATURE ON DARWIN:

I don't often write about Darwin and evolution here for a simple reason; there is literally an army of truly excellent authors and bloggers who pen eloquent thoughts about these subjects and the amount of stuff published about him will fill up entire rooms. You could probably put together a thousand-page encyclopedia simply listing works on Darwin. His original work as stated above is still very readable. Every aspect of his life and work - the scientific, the psychological, the social, the political and the personal - has been exhaustively analyzed. I have certainly not sampled more than a fraction of this wealth of knowledge, but based on my interest in Darwin and selected readings, I can recommend the following.

For what it's worth, if you want to have the best overview of Darwin's life after he came home from his voyage on the Beagle, I think nothing beats the elegance of language and wit of David Quammen's "The Reluctant Mr. Darwin". Quammen has exhaustively researched Darwin's post-Beagle life and work, and no one I have come across tells the story with such articulate enthusiasm, fondness and attention to detail in a modest sized book.

Janet Browne's magisterial biography of Darwin is definitely worth a look if you want to get all the details of his life. Browne pays more attention to the man than the science, but her work is considered the authoritative work, and there are nuggets of eloquence in it.

As a student in high school I was inspired by Alan Moorehead's "The Voyage of the Beagle" noted above which combines an account of Darwin's life and voyage with beautiful and full page illustrations.

Geting to evolution now, there's an even bigger plethora of writings. Several books have captured my attention in the last many years. I don't need to extol the great value of any (and indeed, all) of Richard Dawkins' books. If you ask me which ones I like best, I would suggest "The Selfish Gene", "The Extended Phenotype", "Climbing Mount Improbable" and "The Blind Watchmaker". For a journey into our ancestral history, Dawkins' strikingly illustrated "The Ancestor's Tale" is excellent. Speaking of ancestral history, Neil Shubin's "Our Inner Fish" charts a fascinating course that details how our body parts come from older body parts that were present in ancient organisms. So does his recent book "The Universe Within". Shubin provides scores of interesting tidbits; for instance he tells us how hernias are an evolutionary remnant. Another great general introduction to evolution is Carl Zimmer's "Evolution"; Zimmer has also recently written excellent books on bacteria and viruses in which evolution plays a central theme.

No biologist- not even Dawkins- has had the kind of enthralling command over the English language as Stephen Jay Gould. We lost a global treasure when Gould died at age sixty. His books are relatively difficult to read and for good reason. But with a little effort they provide the most sparkling synthesis of biology, history, culture and linguistic exposition that you can ever come across. And all of them are meticulously researched, although Gould’s political ideology sometimes has to be watched out for. Out of all these I personally would recommend "Wonderful Life", and if you want to challenge yourself with a really difficult unedited original manuscript written just before he died, "The Hedgehog, the Fox and The Magister's Pox". His collections of essays - "Full House" and "Eight Little Piggies" for instance - are also outstanding.

I don't want to really write about books which criticize creationism since I don't beat that horse much, but if you want to read one book about the controversy that rips apart intelligent design proponents' arguments, read Ken Miller's "Finding Darwin's God" which makes mincemeat out of the usual "arguments from complexity" trotted out by creationists which are actually "arguments from personal incredulity". He also has a book covering the Dover Trial. I have only browsed it but it seems to be equally good read. What makes Miller a tough target for creationists (and puzzling for evolutionists) is that he is a devout Christian.

This is an updated and revised version of a post originally written on Darwin's 200th birthday. 

— The Curious Wavefunction