#( this to say that the only time/verse where the Veil falls is because it's not Solas who does it.

[mercysought]

I don't have a lot of time right now, however, I remember reading Karen (@hoboblaidd) talking about whether Solas would have killed the Inquisitior if it meant achieving his goals (you can read it over here) and the question I have posed myself since is whether Asharen would have done the same if it came down to, if she could have killed Solas if it meant stopping the veil from falling.

And honestly? I think so? It would have been likely a fight, flight and freeze type of decision. A reaction than necessarily an action. It would have changed her. Broken her even to do it. It would be undeniable that she would be unrecognisable because of it :)

[gogandmagog]

Anne of the Island, Chapter One!

And wellll, I guess I’m actually starting off before chapter one! And it’s two things, really.

First, this inclusion, before Maud even adds her own sweet dedication:

I sometimes wonder how many then-contemporary readers saw this, knew the whole source, and fully took it as a spoiler… either way, it’s pretty clever. These four lines of Tennyson are taken from the poem “the Day-Dream,” specifically from the third part called, “the Arrival.” And maybe predictably, it’s about the Fairy Prince’s arrival into the titular Day Dreamers (who btw reverts inward to avoid harsh realities, in case it wasn’t Anne enough already) life. And of course anyone who’s already read Anne of the Island will know that this is a huge theme in the overall arc of the novel. I also like that Maud took this little verse patch in particular, because it aligns sooo precisely with Anne and Gilbert’s romantic beginnings… the ‘precious thing discovered late,’ for sure, but also in mention of the drawing of ‘the veil’. Anne of the Island directly follows Anne of Avonlea, which ended nicely with Miss Lavendar’s wedding to Stephen Irving, and very importantly, also this kind of naked moment between Anne and Gilbert where they each recognise their shared future and feelings, and the narrative says, “...it was as if a veil that had hung before her [Anne’s, that is] inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings…” So, yeah. This epigraph is pretty much perfect.

Besides which, I also want to be even more extra annoying, and say that Tennyson is already in general a reocurring soft spot for Anne and Gilbert. It’s Anne’s playing at Tennyson’s Lady of Shalott that sees Gilbert saving her life for the first time, and it’s that near-drowning that ushers in Anne’s real forgiveness for Gilbert’s old slight. Other things too! Later in the series, when Gilbert pronounces Captain Jim dead, he uses a Tennysonism and tells her that Captain Jim has “crossed the bar.” (Here’s Crossing the Bar, just in case.) LATER later, in Anne of Ingleside, Nan mentions Anne “read to her one night from the old volume of Tennyson Father had given her long, long ago…” + many more such cases, and imo just cute.

But really, onto Chapter One! The Shadow of Change.

A slam dunk of a title. The Shadow of Change could nearly be considered a proper character in this chapter because it’s eeeeverywhere. There’s liminal space for like miles, in all directions. There are obvious things, spelled out to the reader, in grocery-list fashion... the season is changing from summer to fall, Diana is engaged to Fred Wright, Anne is leaving Avonlea behind for college, and Mrs. Rachel is moving into Green Gables. I could almost cite this whole opener when trying to pick out a chapter highlight, because Maud’s prose is so visceral here, on hopes and anxiety. I always get a real lump in my throat about it. But there are other things changing, too. When Gilbert overtakes Anne on the bridge, they're lingering over their past, rather literally. It's only been one tiny week since the events of Anne of Avonlea, where an "unseen finger" turned the page on Anne's girlhood, leaving before her "womanhood, with all its charm and mystery." Gilbert was midwife to that transition, and now here he is again, placing his hand over Anne's, and teasing out a brand new (and involuntary) womanhoody physiological reaction, one "not strictly sensible,” from her, to top it all off. And even though it kind of scares her (I feel like this is a good point to remember that while Anne is 18 here, Gilbert is nearly 21, which imo kind of contributes to him being in an awkward position; kind of one-or-two-steps-ahead of Anne, and perpetually needing to wait for her to catch up), Anne's still reflecting on the pleasantness of his touch, later toooo... complete with a dig at poor Charlie Sloane lmao.

Also, really fast, when Gilbert's mentioning that Kingsport "has the finest natural park in the world", the Maud scholars, when it comes up for them, like to supplement this postcard! Since fictional Kingsport is based on non-fictional Halifax, Point Pleasant Park is evidentally the likely inspo behind for Kingsport's nameless park.

Okay, what else??

Davy. Davy is the original Sour Patch Kid. First he says something sour, and then he says something sweet. But for me… the first big laugh of this book is always, “But if you did want to catch a man, how would you go about it? I want to know.” 💀 Can you imagine?

Now anyway, I’m sure this post is full of ugly typos and bad syntax and incomplete thoughts but it’s 11:50 and I’m for bed! But I’m so excited to be reading this book with so many friends. I always learn so many new things from you guys!

[cringetownusa]

Yax, the How and Why:

Part 1: Why do people ship them?

Decided it was time I put together all my thoughts about why I think Yax works particularly well as a ship, and what they all bring to the table.

There's a lot to talk about here, and I'm going to try and hit at least all my big points. I'm also going to be looking at them from the standpoint of Goof Troop, and A Goofy movie, as well as the Og Animaniacs and reboot, Wakkos Wish, (even though that's out of universe for animaniacs) comics, and even the toys.

This is about to get really long, so I'll put it under a read more.

From a personality standpoint, they compliment each other's strengths and weaknesses so well.

Max is earnest and honest. He always has been.

From Goof troop where he wants so badly to do good things, and goes immediately to an adult when he messes up, to A Goofy Movie, where he goes so far to impress the people around him, to his want to do a good job in House of mouse. It's a constant whenever we see him on screen.

Max has seen a lot of growth through his shows and movies, but he's also been consistent. Goofy has clearly done an incredible job raising Max. Max is pretty open about his emotions. He doesn't hide them from his friends or family. There's a level of vulnerability that comes from that, and despite being bullied and picked on, he knows who he is, it only become a matter of insecurity getting other people to see that.

In A Goofy Movie, he doesn't worry about being good enough for roxanne. He says with conviction that "after today, she'll be mine". He doesn't doubt his own abilities. He's confident in what he does, and what he knows he's good at, like skateboarding.

Max is dramatic, he's flamboyant and a show off. He has made himself the center of attention on purpose before; as long as it's something he's well versed in and is confident he can impress with, he thrives. He loves to have that positive attention from big crowds. It pushes him forward.

He is also, and this is very important, a troublemaker.

He always has been, and not just in a well meaning sense.

In Goof Troop, he shows that he's the scheming type, he's the type to cause problems on purpose, just because it's fun. It's often the problem or the solution to several episodes.

Just like the Warners.

Now, these are never super harmful, he's a good kid at his core. He's kind and patient and understands his mistakes, but he's an absolute menace. He would have no trouble fitting in with patented Warner antics.

This next point is talked about a lot.

Max's issues and insecurities make for a fantastic story of growth with Yakko and his siblings. He's worried about being laughed at, at people hearing his laugh (something that is the best part of individuals and their expression of self) and worries about what other people think of it. This issue of his hits against Yakko's need to make people laugh.

They're complimentary. They're foils to each other.

Yakko is similar, but because of how he grew up, and the role he was forced into, he mirrors Max's traits as well.

Yakko is sarcastic, he undercuts a lot of sincerity with humor or hides it behind a veil of snark. He hides his feelings for fear of backlash. Unlike Max, who has his emotions on his sleeve, and has been encouraged to feel them openly from a young age.

Yakko's not able to be so open emotionally, because doing so has gotten both him and his siblings hurt.

Yakko is smart. He's tactical where Max is emotional. He schemes as well, as the spearhead and leader of the zany trio, but he sees more angles than Max does.

He does it out of self preservation in ADDITION to doing it to be a menace and for fun. He's the mastermind of the group, just like Max is to his own group. They're both the snarky personas. Yakko wants, NEEDS to make people laugh, his self worth is tied to it, it's what he was made to do. It's a source of anxiety for him, but also a source of joy. We've seen several instances of moments where Yakko falls back on his "Nations of the World" song, because he wants to make a good impression. We also have evidence of him stressing about his ability to perform in his sleep.

Being able to tell exactly how others are feeling helps Yakko pivot his plans and react in line to the antagonist. He has a hard time being sincere sometimes, prefers to keep himself protected.

But he also craves attention. Loves to be at the center of it, loves it more when it's something he's passionate in or prides himself with.

His jokes, his wit, his singing. His ability to sing and speak tongue twisters that nobody else can. All things he's confident in.

Yakko's strengths lie more in his mind, as opposed to Max's physical capabilities.

Together, they create a dynamic duo of mischief, being people with similar senses of humor, (we have seen both Yakko and Max tell almost identical jokes)they make each other laugh.

With strong senses of justice, they both aren't afraid to bring out the schemes on "special friends", or on people who deserve it; we see that a lot in Goof Troop.

Max is used to havoc. He's closely acquainted with it, he's been doing Goof Luck damage control since he was a small child, constantly being pushed to take the wheel of his dad's mishaps, sometimes very literally.

He would fit in seamlessly to the Warner's adventures, egg them on or do damage control. He's perfectly suited to fill in the space where he's needed, like a liquid changing shape to its container.

They're two sides of the same coin. They are opposites but they support each others weaknesses.

The emotional openness vs. The guarded emotions.

The need to make people laugh vs. The need to not show his laugh.

The physical vs. mental strengths.

Together, they gain inner and outer strength. They'll have someone to confide in, someone with much different upbringings and experiences than their own. Both in and out of universe.

But that's not really all there is to it, is there?

No, because family is so integral to both of their characters, we can't really talk about how good Yax is, and why it works, without talking about Goofy, Wakko, and Dot.

Yakko would never date someone, or even be friends with someone if they didn't like his siblings. Not just get along, like.

The Warners are "All for one, and one for all times 3". There is no talking about such a major change to the Warner dynamic without addressing every Warner, because they're affected too.

Dot and Wakko need someone to be friends with outside of themselves. They need familiarity and kindness.

Who better to open the Warner's to a kinder life, than a toon from a company all about the power of familial and romantic love? The themes that surround Max and Goofy(as well as many other Disney's), are exactly the kind of thing that those kids need the most.

Wakko and Dot need to have love that comes from the outside. Love from a parental figure who isn't their older brother, and love from a real friend, someone who cares about them who they aren't related to and can talk through issues they may otherwise be uncomfortable talking to their siblings about. The Warners are closer than any siblings that have or will ever exist, but there's still some things that are easier to talk about with a third party.

With Goofy, (someone who knows how to raise a kid, and what they would need to thrive) the Warners can finally, just be kids.

Yakko being happy is a the big part, but having the Warners brought into the Disney family by Goofy Goof, the man with so much understanding and love to give, who GETS kids, and has always let Max be a kid and help him through it?

It would help all three of them lean on outside help.

His appearance through Yakko and Max knowing each other, gives the Warners a positive adult figure in their lives who will be there to support them instead of criticize them for being "too much".

Yax isn't JUST about Yakko and Max, it's about the connections these kids make beyond the studio lot.

The connections that start with the eldest himself opening up. Start with Yakko overcoming that fear of rejection and letting people in.

It's about learning the world around them isn't just filled with people who want them locked up.

It's also about Max having someone who can match his energy. Max already has some friends who let him be himself and are wonderful people , but The Warners open up a different side of Max that can allow him to show that freer, mischievous side and have fun in that same way he had enjoyed in Goof Troop. He's allowed to revel in it, instead of worrying about stressing out his friends by getting them in on the antics.

The world is also filled with people who embrace their weirdness and energy, and who will guide them.

Even if you just like yax as friends, it's easy to see the potential and benefits

The Warners and the Goofs, to have lives grow richer.

And more, with them being from separate companies, their worldview would be able to grow to incorporate new ideas and thoughts.

The Warners aren't very open with their emotions, so a father son duo who have always been open and communicative would be able to show them the benefits of doing so themselves.

Plus, watching the Warner Siblings wreak havoc with a smile, hurting no innocents, would be exactly the type of thing to make Max smile in turn.

They deserve each other, deserve kindness and acceptance. ALL of these kids do. And every single one of them get that through Yax.

Plus, through Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Yakko and Max exist within the same universe. They're so close. It's not a stretch to see them interact and understand each other.

Now, there's a lot more to talk about. How it came to be, and how the shipping climate and the timing of the original shows allowed for this to line up to happen.

So look out for that in Part 2, featuring an interview with the person who started it all.

[dollyboned]

how destiny's child emotion and killugon are post-separation parallels; a very, very long analysis i wrote in 2h

hi! im danaë, an autistic person which sp-in is psychology and hxh, mainly killugon. i spent two hours yesterday writing about this topic instead of sleeping so enjoy it lol

WARNING!! if you didn't notice THEY'RE LOVE INTERESTS. this text isn't killugon-free, im proud of it AND im blocking everyone that cries about them being only besties. respectfully, no. thank you. (also, english isn't my first language. sorry for any eventual spelling mistakes!)

right on the first verse we hear "it's over and done / but the heartache lives on the inside / and who are you clinging to instead of me tonight?". this could apply to both gon and killua.

gon & "and who are you clinging to instead of me tonight?". killua left with alluka, he has someone to care about and protect. he has company. gon isn't the type to be jealous of a little girl (really, people need to wake up about it. he isn't), but he IS the type to be sad about not being cared even if he denies it. he's a kid; every kid likes to feel protected.

but the thing is, killua isn't happy about it neither. even if he loves to protect alluka, it's different. he loves her, of course, but there's the lack of the warmth of being mutually cared because gon ALSO cared about his well-being (and im fighting everyone who says he didn't). im not saying alluka won't care for killua, but she'll care like a little sister does, not how someone that love you romantically does — and that's good because killua would NOT be able to make it if anyone tried to be the tiniest bit of what gon was when they parted ways.

and then comes this: "and where are you now? / now that I need you? / tears on my pillow / wherever you go, go". oh, dude. this is so killugon i feel ashamed of trying to explain to hxh community /hj

they both were constantly hurting from being away, even though this was the best for them at the time. they wanted each other to be near, wanted and needed, but they couldn't. there is this thin and fragile veil of deep sorrow that would make them get so attached to the other that would be more sickening than the sadness of losing their "other piece" for a while. it's more worth crying over memories than losing their mind from being deadly (metaphorically and literally) codependent.

this links to the next phrase: "i'll cry me a river that leads to your ocean". crying alone is more safe than being next to each other. they'll cry over memories, as i said, and they'll cry about distance and they'll cry over everything that could've been different. they'll find the other in their tears, the hugs will come out of the bittersweet sorrow they carry around, but they'll be separated. they can cry rivers that lead to a valley of what it was and what could've been, but it'll be all. the sadness won't make them be together again.

there comes killua part: "you'll never see me fall apart". he needs to be the big brother now. he need to be alluka's point of safety so he can assure their existence, and for this killua needs to be strong as a rock, he needs alluka to look at him and think she can trust him with anything. he's the big brother, isn't he? emotions about a past that doesn't belong to him anymore aren't going to help with surviving. but he does break silently, while he is trying to sleep ("tears on my pillow"), when something looks to much like a typically gon thing, when memories crawl in. he's just a fragile boy needing to use the super strong hero facade again.

the first part of the next verse is "in the words of a broken heart / it's just emotions taking me over / caught up in sorrow, lost in the song / but if you don't come back / come home to me, darling". this is suffering. both of them are heartbroken, left "alone" to face worlds they feel they don't belong to anymore, wanting their partner in crime to make things less insufferable. they remember the other on daily little things — a song, a quote, a smell. but killua never comes to visit and gon isn't able to do it either — there's no home left besides each other's hearts, and they live there rent-free even if it hurts like hell. memories hurt, the past is like glass and salt being poured into an open wound to later be mixed with alcohol, but they aren't able to say goodbye to it because saying goodbye to the pain is like saying goodbye to the last tangible thing they've from each other — ironically, the pain of being separated —, and the last thing they want is to say goodbye again so they hold it close to their hearts like a trophy.

but as if they're bargaining, here comes "don't you know there's nobody left in this world to hold me tight? / and don't you know there's nobody left in this world kiss goodnight?". there's people, but there's nothing of what they need. they need someone that knows how to make them feel safe, loved, safe — nor alluka or mito can do this for neither gon or killua the way they need it to be done. they try to, but they can't because the type of sadness they're carrying is exclusively from a love that never had a true end; they parted ways, but never stopped loving each other even if their trust was a little bit weaker, and carrying a love that is technically in open hurts so much that no one can try to mimic how it was. a tight hug from mito or alluka won't be the same of a silly headpat from killua or a bright smile from gon because isn't about the act but who's doing it.

and then we've the last verse before the music repeats itself, that i truly believe that wraps up everything in killugon's love story: "i'm there at your side / a part of all the things you are / but you got a part of someone else / you gotta go find your shining star".

gon wanted to find ging and be back at whale's island; killua had to protect alluka. they felt so much love, but they had other people in their lives too that needed to be looked over. even if their story is forever intertwined at some point, both of them are mix of a lot of people and have small amounts of them inside themselves. this is what makes it a tiny little bit easier to go through not having each other near: other people. the tiny pieces of every person they've ever met that created their personality and their new horizons are what eventually make them heal from all the suffering and sorrow and finally be able to reunite again, friendship strong and a love so healthy like a daisy that just blossomed.

they're forever in love. the distance and the sadness was necessary for them to see that things can be hard to handle alone, but they're never alone as they have other people that care for them deeply and are willing to see them fully happy — just as in emotion's music video. when they learn to be complete by themselves, they can multiply together and form a relationship that adds up, not that is dangerously subtracting their mental health. they deserve to love each other when they're ready. ♡

end of the analysis. thx for reading this bible i wrote in 2h lol

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 249

Qal­aq (Pas­sion)

Literally meaning boredom with the place where one is and with the surrounding conditions, feeling discomfort as if in imprisonment or captivity, qalaq(passion) is intense love, deeper than the desire for Paradise that the ordinary worshipper feels, more profound than the feelings aroused by a Sufi leader’s knowledge concerning God, and more intense than the lover’s love for the beloved, and which exhausts his/her power to endure such love. The initiate falling in love to such an intense degree finds on the horizons of his or her innermost world glimmers of a meeting with the Beloved and feels his or her heart beating with the idea that above all is God’s being pleased with them (9:72).

The Prophet Moses, upon him be peace, expresses this degree of passion that burns endurance to ashes with the desire of union in the words (20:84), I have hastened to You, my Lord, so that You may be well-pleased (with me). He manifests his extraordinary yearning and excitement to meet with his Lord.

There is another kind of passion manifesting itself in the form of distress in figurative love-the love felt by a person for one of the opposite sex-and that arises from the worry that the beloved may be loved by others. Jami’ expresses such passion as follows:

When one says that he is a lover, this casts me into worry and distress, For I am afraid that he is in love with my beloved. Such passion should not be confused with the passion an initiate feels on the way to God. All sorrows and joys felt on this way are because of Him and from Him. For this reason, any pain or sorrow a traveler to God feels is sweet in itself, and the pleasures are as pleasant as the water of Paradise.

When the zeal and yearning felt to meet with the Beloved come to an unendurable point, whatever there is in the heart other than the desire for union vanishes. It even happens that love is, to a certain extent, not considered any more, and seekers progress to the following states according to the intensity of their passion:

All things, each according to its own “wavelength,” begin to tire the seeker; the result is that at times the heart feels a desire for union with Him, while at other times it burns with the yearning to die to meet with Him. The fire is so great that the seeker sees none other than Him. Despite corporeality and bodily desires, the seeker begins to be so immersed in profound spiritual life that neither reason nor will-power retain the capacity to control or give direction. As a result, the person cannot help falling into confusion in matters that require the ordinary operations of common sense and discernment: I did not know myself as I see me now, I wonder whether He is me or I am Him? Not only in the performance of duties of worship and obedience to God, but also in worldly affairs the seeker now travels on the horizons of witnessing God’s signs distinctly.

When the veil between a hero of passion and the Beloved is partly lifted so that the way to union shows itself to some degree, the initiate goes into a spiritual state of being seized by a fire from which there is no longer any possibility of rescue or escape. The initiate thinks of nothing more than meeting with the Truly Beloved One. The lover is at the same time as being a lover also a beloved, a willed one at the same time as being one who wills, and one sought for at the same time as one who is seeking. It can be said that in the state in which he was before he began to receive the Revelation, God’s Messenger experienced the first two kinds of passion mentioned above. The following verses that we quote from a long poem of Yazicizade Mehmed Effendi[1] express this in a chaste language:

Why is it that you stay in such a sorrowful mood? Why is it that there is sadness in your blessed inner world?

……………………………………………………………………

Without answering them, he turned back again to where he stayed and unburdened himself to the Almighty.

……………………………………………………………………

He said: “My heart is in love and desire; my soul is on fire; Why are these tears coming from my eyes, O Never-ending All-Ruling? I have lost my patience, having come to the end of my endurance; What can I say to my Beloved? I have no strength to bear all that takes place.

……………………………………………………………………

Climbing the mountain, he prostrated, putting his face on the earth; He wept and entreated God, saying: “O One never-ending!” The angels saw him and pitied him, And the maidens in Paradise shed their tears: “O God! Your beloved one has made his upright body doubled over.” Many Companions of the Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, made similar utterances on this same point. “Tomorrow, I will join the friends-Muhammad and his Companions,” is only one example of these.[2]

The one who feels the greatest passion is also the master of the creatures, upon him be peace and God’s blessings. At a time when the world offered itself to him with all its pomp and splendor, as the greatest of all creation, as one who had completed his duty and had come to the point where he could express his yearning for union with the Truly Beloved One, he said, “O my God! (Now it is time to go) to the Highest Friend!”[3] and turned with all his being to the Absolutely Beloved One with the desire of fulfilling what was required of him by the rank of being beloved by Him. He put a full stop to the lines of ascent and descent[4] by proving that he uniquely enjoyed the rank of being His beloved one. He was no longer Muhammad but was transformed into being Ahmad,[5] and fully perceived that whatever he had and accomplished was all from God.

On him and his family be the most perfect of blessings to the fill of the heavens and the earth.

[1] Mehmed ibn Salih (d. 1451) Author of Muhammadiya. Buried in Canakkale, Turkey. (Trans.) [2] Ahmad ibn Hanbal, al-Musnad, 3:223, 262. [3] Al-Bukhari, “Marda’,” 19; Al-Muslim, “Salam,” 46. [4] A human being’s coming to the world from the world of spirits is that person’s descent, and the life in this world ending in death with the subsequent chain of events until he or she enters Paradise, which is his or her return to God, is the ascent. (Trans.) [5] The Messenger’s name before his coming to the world was Ahmad. Prophet Jesus promised his coming with this name (61:6). He was Muhammad during his life-time in the world and during his mission of Messengership. He is also called Ahmad in the other world after his death. With its own peculiarities, his being Ahmad is called the reality of his being Ahmad (Haqiqat al-Ahmadiya) in the Sufi terminology, and his being Muhammad with its own characteristics, the reality of his being Muhammad (Haqiqat al-Muhammadiya).

[siderealxmelody]

The Forever War Verse

Now revamped and in one full post.

@sankta-alina-s - hopefully there's a lot of stuff here for you to pick where Alina grows up in. Perhaps within the Valg stuff??

@luxmaeastra - Look at all the stuff for Ella and Emmie

@starlsssankt - Fandomeless ;)

Inspired by: ACOTAR, FBAA, Book of Azrael, What Lies Beyond The Veil, The King of Battle & Blood, The Court of Blood & Bindings

@musings-of-an-antari - some of this is kinda outdated, but the general vibe of "constant war, conflicts breedings others conflicts" holds! Unir was the Emperor of the Daglan

Like most wars, this one starts because of a female.

Sotoria was a Princess of Autumn, by all accounts kind as she was beautiful. The life of her and her family was relatively peaceful, not without the occasional bit of violence - the fae were not known for being peaceful after all.

Her older brothers , Kaden and Isaiah frequently came to the Daglan Emperor's Eternal Palace as guests. Rare moments of peace between races who had once been bitter enemies.

She came to visit them one day with her father. Catching the eye of a young noble her age named Kolis.

They spoke, she didn't think much of it. Till he announced he dreamed of her at the ball the next night. He wasn't lying, she felt the snap of their bond that night as well.

But she didn't wish to be mated so quickly. Kolis said he understood, that he'd wait.

Her family went home to Autumn where they stayed. Things were peaceful for a few months before Kolis came to take her with him.

His patience had run out.

She protested and Kaden and Isaiah heard, launching themselves at the Daglan male to free their sister.

They'd beaten him within an inch of his life before they were pulled off of him.

They were all sent to Unir for punishment.

Kaden didn't think too much of it. He had other concerns at that age. Like the festival he was going to take his best friend Elianna to in a few weeks. He'd been dancing around his feels for her for years and had finally told her the previous day when they'd been in her home in Dawn.

They'd kissed, he'd never felt happier.

Then Unir had used them to make a point - throwing them into Ilyzath, the prison that everyone knew no one escaped from.

There he and Isaiah remained for the next 20 years.

------

Nismera watched her family slowly fall apart, her younger brothers locked away, her sister Sotoria taken to live in Eternal Court.

She only had her baby sister Zefera and her parents. But even she knew her parents days were numbered - they'd never survive this.

So let them pass in each other's arms, belladonna on their tongues. A merciful death, a peaceful way to save them from the war she was going to wage.

Why did anyon think the Daglan different? Unir hadn't done anything revolutionary beyond mate a Valg and weren't they tools to the Daglan just like the Fae were?

She bid her time, trained Zefera and kept an eye on Sotoria. Despite her rage she hoped Sotoria was happy, she hoped her sister got everything they whispered Mates were. And for a time it looked like she had.

Kolis doted on her, worshipped the ground she walked on. He probably would have crawled like a dog behind her if she asked him to.

And then they'd gone to the Elysian Cliffs for a picnic. And then, he'd come back without her - saying she slipped and fell from the cliffs.

Nismera's patience had snapped - she'd asked the help of others Zefera and her mate Beron, and an orange eyed male for a way into Ilyzath.

She freed her brothers, all the prisoners of that accursed place and prepared to war.

-----

Kaden should have been relaxing, should have not gotten back involved with Elianna. But he'd wanted to check in on her. And the rage he felt at her predicament was a good outlet for his growing bloodlust.

She'd married the Crown Prince of the Summer court Rhaegar. Kaden wouldn't have cared about that if he'd treated her like the queen she was.

Only Rhaegar didn't, he ostensibly kept her to have her kingdom in Dawn under his thumb. But then he also mated Lyanna and had Elianna raise the children he and Lyanna had.

Kaden told himself not to get involved, Elianna wasn't his, whatever they had was 20 years too late. Whoever he'd been before then had withered and died in Ilyzath. She hadn't asked him to intervene.

But other forces outside of his control circled. Achlys, Rhaegar's younger sister seized his throne and Rhaegar fled, taking Lyanna and their eldest Thysandra to Winter.

Kaden used the distraction for what it was - revenge. He and Isaiah chased the small family, tearing them apart. But their girl, their daughter was innocent. Besides Achlys wanted her alive. So in fae tradition he and Isaiah gave Thysandra the hearts of her parents.

Kaden took the girl to Summer, finding Elianna with the other two.

Fae didn't let the weak live, and the children behind her were weak. They weren't her blood, and Achlys wanted them dead.

Kaden was happy to kill them for her.

He told Elianna as much, that he couldn't be the male he had been. That whatever was here - whatever she hoped for would not happen.

Elianna countered that she didn't want that male, that one had not killed Kolis, as he should be. That one would not have destroyed Rhaegar as thoroughly as he had.

That one was dead, as the version of her was. But she'd thought of Kaden on her wedding night, she thought of him everytime Rhaegar touched her. All those nights when he couldn't have Lyanna and needed to be serviced.

She wanted one night with Kaden, one night where they could just be and give the dead versions of themselves one last chance to breathe and then die.

Kaden agreed.

Taking her finally home to Dawn the next morning.

------

The fae were a wild people, there were may old bloodlines stretching back to the days of the Old Gods of Phos, Nyx, Deia and Thana.

One of them was Sammael's, a scion of Thana's and who mated the Valg Priestess Lilith. She'd left her coven to be with him, to stay in the Alfeihm, the land of the Fae to be with him.

Their sons - Haldnunen, Aphaeleon

Gewynrnon, and Ittshare had been the first to unite the fae into courts.

Haldnunen had made Dusk, Aphaeleon Night, Gewynrnon Day & and Dawn, Ittshare - Winter.

Ittshare chose not to exact revenge for his youngest, Lyanna was young - foolish. Besides he didn't have time to process all of it as a power struggle erupted in his home.

He and his son Boreas was thrown out, Twyla his middle daughter took the reigns, helping her mother Tehome finally go home to the Seas Ittshare had kept her from.

Ittshare buried the grief and betrayal, Haldnunen was right - they had worse monsters to fight, the Daglan.

Gewynrnon told Kaden of his other daughters, of the plight his family had been plagued with. Elianna wasn't the first dragged into a unhappy union. His other daughter Deanna had too, by a Daglan much like Kolis. Mala, his eldest had taken it on herself to bring her home.

Kaden vowed to help however he could.

------

He ended up finding Mala only a few short weeks later, alive but deeply hurt. She'd gone directly to the Eternal Palace, and in a move that he found brave had seduced one of Unir's sons. Thurr was idealistic, a romantic, an optimist. He had watched Mala's cover be blown, her dragged before his father and set to die. Samkiel would have brought the blade down had Thurr not thrown himself at his brother saving her life and exiling the both of them.

Thurr was everything Samkiel hadn't been, devoted to Mala, to help her. Kaden had never thought he'd see the day a Daglan was halfway decent.

He left them to find Deanna, sending Isaiah with them.

He launched himself into the real war, growing his reputation and fear.

As the children from the other courts came of age, he had them trained in war camps. Aphaeleon's son Rhydand held promise and he payed special attention to the boy.

The war dragged on, decades of it.

Deanna had been found early on but war was war.

Rhysand's full potential didn't come to fruition against the Daglan but against his own.

Tamlin a prince of Spring and Rhysand's sister Aelirenn had been friends for years. Rhysand saw the writing on the wall long before those two did.

She was beautiful by all accounts, Tamlin was fond of giving her white roses before she would lead her battalions.

But as they grew in their prowess, in their power - rumors swirled. Both children came from powerful families. Spring was allied with Achlys and she despised Night. Night was one of the courts allied against her. They did not recognize her claim to Summer. For she did not marry one of their own, but installed her mate Korok, a Daglan on the throne.

No Fae would ever bow to such a male.

And as the war dragged on, Tamlin's and Aelirenn's eventual union would tip the scales in Night's favor, in Unseelie's favor. For it was the Unseelie that ruled all the Celestial courts, as it was the Seelie who ruled the Seasons, Achlys was queen of the Summer and the Seelie.

Airmed, an old friend of Kaden's was set to inherit the Unseelie and Dusk thrones. And then his mate Emeia died and he abdicated.

As the fae reeled from this internal blow Rhydand and his father learned of Aelirenn's death at the hands of Tamlin's family. Many whispered it was done on Achlys orders.

But neither cared, they went to Spring, killing everyone that came in their way. Anaxia, stopped them from taking Tamlin's life - he was her baby brother and she forced Aphaeleon to his knees, her blade at his neck.

He would live but the blow landed. Anaxia and Rhysand knew this war was not over.

------

Kaden noted all these small wars in passing, it was beneath him to care - to give a damn.

But it seemed even as the Daglan grew more tired the Fae splintered more and more.

Mab had been forced into a marriage with a noble Sephtis from Dusk. Her sister Achlys hadn't cared what her opinion was. She didn't want Sephtis to be with his mate Twyla, Twyla already held too much power being a granddaughter of Sammael and Lilith. She didn't need that female gaining anymore.

Rhysand who had had no interest in politics renewed it now. He told Kaden of what was happening, of the cracks forming.

But things were heating within the war. The Valg were beginning to cave - to switch sides as the Daglan wrung them dry of their magic of their covens powers.

As Samkiel broke the world apart, the war was paused but no over. The realms were locked away but they would one day open. Till then, everyone just needed to prepare.

Rhysand turned to Airmed's brothers, hoping one of them would understand the importance of what Achlys was trying to do - rule all of Alfeihm through her sister.

It was Fal, one of Airmed's younger brothers. He helped Mab free herself mating her and claiming the Unseelie and Dusk thrones. Twyla was free to have her mate and for a brief moment there was peace.

But Summer was still in Achlys clutches and her family could not escape it. Creon had always been Rhysand's friend first, but he knew there was something about Anaxia that drew him in. Still, he had to be focused, he needed to get rid of Achlys and Korok, they'd sold his brother Orion and Shahar to the Daglan as soldiers - as weapons. He needed to be in Summer - he needed to find a way to bring them home.

Even if that meant Rhysand and Anaxia would think him a traitor.

------

Rigelus and Bryce had been no ones in the Grand scheme of things. They'd grown up in the Academic citadels, picking up swords as their library burned to the ground under Theia one of the Fae Queens. They didn't know which court or kingdom she hailed from - and frankly it didn't matter. They were all the same, monsters.

Mindless, horrible monsters.

Rigelus was just a boy when the fae had burned his manor down and slaughtered his parents. He'd been sent to Parthos to be taught and raised as royal advisor one day.

Bryce's parents worked at Parthos and the two lonely children had found kinship among tomes of history and past wars.

It grew as most things did into something more.

Bryce was vaulted into high society when her older sister Cameron joined Samkiel's personal gaurd.

Soon both she and Rigelus was becoming friendly with Samkiel's younger brother Thurr.

A friendship that crashed and burned when Bryce figured out what Mala was and told Unir.

As the war dragged on, it was Bryce who came home to Parthos on fire, to her parents bodies torn apart. It was her who begged Thurr to help her save them - save the books.

Thurr left her there, telling her this was price for making his Mala bleed all those years ago. He didn't set the fire, but he didn't tell anyone inside not was going to happen.

Rigelus and Bryce smuggled what books they could. Remaking their home in White City close to Summer in Alfeihm. Many Daglan followed them, Korok offering the young Daglan couple protection and allies. As the war closed he even gifted them warriors - Orion and Shahar for their personal protection.

Rigelus and Bryce wanted to forget, to stop feeling the grief that chased them.

Rigelus had lost most of his siblings expect three Eosphorous, Austrus and Hesperus. The three were overbearing but the parties Bryce and he threw him into helped. The way they threw themselves as each other, into drinking, into numbing that pain helped.

------

As the war ended Isaiah watched Samkiel's Hand step back, closing ranks to protect him.

He wondered of Imogen, of the moments they'd shared so many years ago before war, before imprisonment and death had broken it. He wondered if she thought of him as he did of her. If she worried for his safety like he did for her.

He didn't have much time to contemplate this anyway - with the Realms locked down after what Samkiel did, the real work could begin.

He worked with Vincent and the other Valg to hunt down and burn the corrupt Matrons of the Valg Covens. The Valg had been under Daglan's thumbs in no small part because their Matrons coveted and hoared the crumbs of power Daglan gave them.

------

Vincent watched the burnings, thousands of witches who had refused to bend to the new order dying for their beliefs. But it wasn't just those guilty in the crossfire, innocents were too.

Camilla lost her sisters to it - Rhiannon and Hestia were targeted for their power and in the frenzy burned alive.

Her childhood best friend Yesenia had nearly died with them.

Vincent watched Camilla slip from his fingers, not that she probably knew who he was. It didn't matter, Samkiel had abandoned them and he would make himself a kingdom if he had to carve it from the dead.

He didn't want Camilla to see that - no matter how ruthless she appeared to be.

He didn't like how out of control being around her made him.

He and Adrien, and Yesenia remade the Valg Covens. Even if he was a Prince he would not become a Patron without a Matron at his side - and there was only one he wanted for that role.

But she'd joined Kaden's armies, had worked with him now to keep what remained of her shattered family together.

With Adrien's second's help Gavriel and his mate Sandriel they even wrestled control of the wild fae in their lands.

------

Sebastian, the son of Thurr and Mala had grown in the shadow of this war with his sisters Sarai and Silba. It was Kaden and Isaiah who honed their magic.

He grew with Natalia and Noelle, daughters of his father's bodyguards Fion and Sive. Camilla trained the girls, ruthless and deadly.

Sebastian didn't understand what was coming till the realms opened again. And the Mating Marks appeared on their eldest children.

The Wild Hunt took them, Xaden from Natalia and him, Emelin and Estrella from Sarai and Marizleh, they were dragged to Alfeihm.

Into a war that was centuries in the making. A war none of them had any allies or understanding of.

Kaden told them to follow, Nismeda and Samkiel's war would reignite and then the realms would be impossible to traverse.

He advised them to keep their heads down and survive before making enemies.

Marizleh being a Primal like Kaden had some inisights but he like Sarai and the others had been far from Alfeihm and the court politics.

The Hand was being Called, Kaden's former protoge was free of him turning against all of them.

Would Ayla kill everyone who coluded or was complicit in her sister's death? Would she rise against the last of her blood remaining in Camilla?

Kaden may be indifferent to war but these kids were ones he'd raised, they were ones who had made him a actually free of Ilyzath even a millennia on. Ayla was a means to an end - but war did not make kind people.

And he wanted what shred of his family remained to survive.

Sarai, Natalia and the others were fine soldiers, exceedingly prepared to survive whatever Ayla threw at them. They'd survive just as well in the crossfire of Nismera and Samkiel's brutality.

But did it make him weak and selfish if he wanted them to be safe for just a little bit longer? Did it make it a monster to sheild them from the carnage he'd orchestred?

[cosmic-gemstone]

A drabble I wrote back in June, and never posted. Sort of a post-Earth battle for Qessyn’s Oracle verse. It’s been ages since I watched the series, so I’m sure there are details wrong. Meh.

“His body…it’s here, is it not?”

“Er…yes ma’am.”

“May I see him?”

“Well…you’re the Oracle, so I guess there’s no harm. Right this way, ma’am.”

Qessyn entered the morgue, in full Oracle regalia, seeing the large covered body on the slab. Her face was impassive, and she was silent for several ticks. She turned to the human guard. “May I have a few moments?”

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll be right outside.”

Now left alone with the body, she approached, quietly pulling back the sheet. Sendak, Zarkon’s Right Hand, Commander of the 3rd Fleet, Leader of the Fire of Purification…

So many accolades. And now look where he was.

She let out a soft sigh. “Sendak…I used to look up to you in my childhood. You were a hero to me. To all Galra. And then…then I saw the truth. The brutality. The violence. The coldness.”

Delicate fingers reached out, tracing the line of his jaw. He was long since cold and stiff. “I met you. The younger you. The young knight from Daibazaal. The more time I spent with him, the more I wondered what happened to you. When did the stars leave your eyes, Sendak? I wish we could have spoken.”

She shook her head. “You and so many others were so desperate to preserve the status quo. To maintain your superiority. To gain power. But nothing lasts forever, Sendak. Even stars must one day die.”

“There were many factors involved. But it wasn’t just Zarkon’s lust for power. Or yours. Or anyone else’s. No…I believe it was our people’s unwillingness to embrace new ideas, that poisoned us. Our stagnation. We were as unyielding as steel. But you failed to realize that which does not bend can only break.”

A soft sigh. “It’s almost funny. I peeked past the veil, attempting to track your movements. What would happen if you succeeded. Yet each reality I looked in, I saw only one outcome for you; failure. I wondered why constantly. And I wanted to ask what drove you. Why this was the only constant. Yet it is now, when you can no longer tell me, that I believe I have my answer.”

She looked at the ceiling. “Your fate was the same, no matter what you did at this point in time. Because your fate was already sealed, ten thousand deca-phoebs ago. The moment you chose vengeance over honor, you were doomed. No matter how long it took.”

“I’ve been learning about our history. The real history. Not the Empire’s version of events. There was so much promise. We reached so high. Only to fall. But I see the Coalition. They’re trying again. Trying to do what we did.”

Finally, Qessyn gave a soft smile. “Their eyes are so full of light, Sendak. So full of hope. And so I’ve made my choice; I say we let the younger species give it a go. It is time we embraced change. Change that is ten thousand deca-phoebs overdue.”

She stroked his still face gently, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, then let out a sigh, covering him back up with the sheet, then resting her hand on his chest. “Fare thee well, Sendak. May you find the peace you were denied in life.”

[tasmiq]

Jumu'ah Sohbet: 13 October 2023

This is a later delivery than normal because I fell into the very forewarning our Tariqa received about falling into a cycle of negativity, which ultimately taints one's perception of our Source! It is an ominous time for the Muslim world, and in these crucial hours, would you rather spend the moments catching up on matters of dismay or inviting a positive turnaround of events insha'Allah ... ? We have afterall lived its reality in our micro-world by drawing on our Positivity Prayers.

Other than the outer worldly reflector of the chaos, these were the more important inner world insights from the beautiful chi (energy) of Shaykh Mirjaen Pirbhai of Tanzania.

#1. He intriguingly asked why we were really in this Sufi Tariqa? We came from the original religions that we had / have, such as Judaism, Christianity, Shiaism, Sunnism, and whatever we were / are! Therefore, Christian, Jewish, and Muslim Sufis exist because the truth of our experiences is that we found solace or holy guidance in the realisation of the saying, "When the student is ready, the master shows up!"

He correctly described how our Tariqa actually pulled us like a magnet to our Shaykh Taner and Shaykha Muzeyyen, and that's why we became a mureed (follower) or a Sufi. When I eventually approached Shaykh Taner, I had the cheek to identify the Tariqa as a family of misfits that I craved to join. However, only after my accident did the epiphanies arise of where my belonging and spiritual home truly was, the Ansari Qadiri Rifai Tariqa!

#2. Intrinsically poetic, Shaykh Mirjaen continued, where mainstream religions see us differently; we see from our spiritual hearts, love, and the Divine. Furthermore, how will it materialise in this world of duality, where God is perceived as a different entity? Despite there being a Qur'anic verse that says, "Wherever you turn, you see Allah's face." And where Allah says, "I am closer to you than your jugular vein."

However, is that the experience that we have in our daily lives, or what are the veils that we have to overcome? That veil is the appearance of the self that "I exist!". That is why we say, "La ilaha illalah" (There is nothing but the Divine). In actual but somewhat mystical reality, the experience of the self within the Self creates a feeling that we're not the doers, and that will happen only when we have a certain purity of mind. That purity of mind is a process achieved through our Daily assignments and Zikr.

#3. How our Daily assignments and Zikr takes effect is based on the individual because we each grow up differently. What Prophet Muhammad SAW experienced in the Cave of Hira is what Shaykh Taner was trying to get us to experience, that sense of Divine oneness, and what others call enlightenment in knowing yourself. Shaykh Mirjaen related how it was told by many philosophers and even the Prophet SAW, "Know yourself, and you will know your Lord!"

So knowing yourself is the crux, and we do that through a consciousness that is Universal and that sense of peace, bliss and happiness is not attained with our senses. We have to go beyond the mind and senses to attain that soul connection to what we truly are. So knowing yourself is one of the prerequisites that the Prophet Muhammad SAW propagated when he attracted people to the fold of Islam. He was telling people, "You are nothing but La ilaha illalah, nothing but the Divine", that's what we are and what we should work towards. Then, the tradition and practice came later on

#4. Shaykh Mirjaen then spoke of how Shaykh Taner encouraged us to study biology, chemistry, physics and even quantum physics which will take us to the root of everything, where what you see is not what it appears to be. Shaykh Taner said that ultimately, when we are conscious of how we react, we can understand the root cause of it. As a fear of losing something; wanting something, or self-preservation. It may even block our inner light. We are always living in the world and seeing it as the apparent reality which is controlled by the Shariah that we have, where there is a differentiation of mine and thine.

But in Tariqa, the consciousness evolves about being less attached to the differentiation of things as a shared reality. In Haqqiqa, you are shown that none of these things belonged to mine or thine but belong to the Lord. Finally, in the Ma'rifah level, you grow to see that everything belongs to Allah. If you say that I exist and Allah exists, that would be conforming to duality. The Sufi logic, however, sees the Divine as walking to us and as it is needed in reality but not identifying ourselves as the doer.

#5. He finally reflected that these are the processes that he took to become a student, where he was looking for answers to the end. Here, Shaykh Taner said that when we are looking for an infinite reality, can there really be an end to the finite seeking?

He added that Shaykh Taner, in his daily functions, saw Allah in it as a continuous presence of their Essence. We as Sufis are looking to overcome our desires and fears and to experience this level of consciousness, insha'Allah! Most poetically, Shaykh Mirjaen declared that the more disturbed we become is the more that we have to learn, which is a direct proportional reality in our worldly lives.

We were so blessed to swim in the endearing recollection of Shaykh Mirjaen's relationship to his Baba, who is our actually ours, as our spiritual father:

Shukran Ya Allah × infinity

[kzele]

Basic premise that @hermesserpent-stuff and I talked about: (TSSM verse) Spidey gets unmasked by Sinister Six and they decide to perma-kidnap him. This due to a. them not wanting to fight a kid and b. Ock getting obsessive over realizing Spider-Man is actually a really smart/strong kid. The only one not on board with this is Shocker, who decides to liberate the kid and slips him Tombstone's card in the process. He separates from the Six after this and tells Tombstone how young the kid likely falls on the age range. The conversation below is a possible scenario where Tombstone and Spider-Man get real deep here. Tomby asks about why he does this and Peter keeps deflecting with humor until one day he jokingly says "I'll explain my reasons when you explain yours." Tombstone agrees and Peter does a great surprised Pikachu imitation. (I was Peter; they were Tombstone)

P: "I was joking!"

T:"I wasn't."

P: "Well, can't we respect each other's privacy for this topic?"

T: "no."

P: "Why's it so important to you, anyways? I thought we had this great professional antagonism going on. Do you really wanna spoil that?"

T: "Im quite happy to spoil our 'professional antagonism' if it means understanding why a 13 year old has taken it upon himself to fight my empire. and if that means sharing my own history, then I will" *intentially underestimating his age*

P: "I'm older than that and you know it! Try somewhere between the fifteen to twenty range; I'm not narrowing it down any farther. Why do you care about my age, anyways? And why do you think us hearing each other's reasons will change anything?"

T: "Perhaps its because I think your smart enough to understand my perspective on things. Perhaps its because I am genuinely interested to see what would drive a young teen to fight a war in this city alone. If I gave you a true answer, Im not sure youd believe me anyways. so determined to stay antagonistic.

P: "Isn't an honest crime lord an oxymoron? Besides, it doesn't matter how honest you are with me with exact reason being YOU'RE A CRIME LORD. And I wasn't under the impression I was fighting a war against anyone until you told me. My goal was and is helping people one day at a time."

T: "I dont tend to lie in my line of work over things meant to build dialogue. Do I lie as Lincoln? Perhaps. But when you tend to follow through there is much more respect and understanding. and why bother continuing to talk if some part of you wasnt interested. why even talk to me after montana talked to me about discovering your age. What is your goal with this conversation, beyond your usual veil of jokes that you use as a wall of comfort?

P: "Because I'm trying to tell you to drop it and because I don't understand what it is you really want with me anymore! It's confusing and I don't like not knowing what you're thinking. It was a lot simpler to tell when you were trying to off me like everybody else."

T: "what I want is to understand you. What Im thinking is that whatever caused you to be a hero was certainly traumatizing and definitely something that haunts you. and offing you is no longer an option I want on the table. That, and Im fairly sure montana's walk out on the six is indicative of future behavior from him if I wasnt already whole heartedly on board with changing my attitude towards you and telling my men to avoid killing you."

P: "That . . .is not something I've told anyone. Why should you know something like that before anyone else I know? Even if I did tell you, what are you hoping to get from understanding me?"

T: "Spider-man. Teenagers, while rash, dont tend to start fighting without reason. and fighting crime means a bigger reason than most. Im not a fool. and I want to understand you because you are impressive and I find myself wondering exactly who failed you... Perhaps failed is too strong a word. But i cannot help but notice that you stand alone. and I am curious abot the why." *tombstone is not entirely sure what he'll gain from understanding. better manipulation sure. but something else is pushing him to ask and he is unable to lable it*

P: *turns his head away from Tombstone's face* "Why not? No one else has to get hurt this way."

T: *tombstone is speaking softly now* "Yes no one else is hurt. But you are. And you, despite whatever it is that happened in your past, certainly have value. It might be hard to hear, especially if you've been told otherwise. But no teenager should face the wrath and cruelty of the world alone; crime fighting ones included." *A part of him is self reflecting as his own time as a teen, alone and dealing with the world.*

P: "It's my choice to do this, just like it's yours to commit crimes. What are you even trying to say here? It's not like you're going to help me fight crime. Plus, your path makes you even more alone than me. *pause as it kicks in* Is that why you're going through this hyper-focused empathy kick? Because you think that we're similar?"

T: "Im not sure what Im trying to say *shrugs at the admission which is strategic* Maybe seeing someone potentially burn out or get snuffed out by life has broken past my barriers and reached my cold heart. *deflecting*

P: "Uh, huh. Because you haven't seen anything so harsh in your line of work before, right? You have a boatload of supervillains that went through rough times. Marko and O'Hirn, for instance? I don't see you doing any of this for them, so I gotta ask: is this really just a matter of age to you?"

T: "Yes." *lies, he cannot help but see himself in spiderman in some way. he has no idea why*

P: *looks at him* "I call bullcrap, but whatever. Okay, fine. Why do you do what you do? There. I asked it."

T: "Many people told me that I would never amount to anything, and that I shouldnt even try. and i listened to them for a while. till about 21 i ran around under other peoples orders, failed out of school, and was in and out of prison for petty theft, arson, and assault. and then i realized I wanted some control over my life and wanted to fix the problems around me. so i started taking over the underground and fixing it. At least thats the short version of everything."

P: "Thats sucks, but what makes your story any different from the others I fought? Doctor Octopus has claimed similar things about wanting to better run things, but I think we both know that's his ego and anger issues talking there. From my understanding, he got stepped on a lot, too."

T: "Whats different is I dont go after teenagers intentionally like Ock does. And the changes Ive made have actually improved a lot of this city. You werent alive when I was growing up. Not to come across as egotisical, but the areas of the city under my control are far better than they once were. between removing sellers from schools and controlling where fights of petty thugs occur and removing major gang wars happening every few weeks on most streets and running genuine charity outreach, this city has changed for the better. and maybe you dont see it and/or dont agree with it. But I stand by the work that the big man has been able to do.

P: *frowns under the mask* "Maybe, but why keep being a part of the violence now that you can get out of it? It still hurts people. I know you're certainly not the worst option this city has when it comes to running things, but a lot of death still happens under you both directly and *slight pause* indirectly.

T: "someone will always be the big man. The city will always have crime. People will always be cruel. I made my choice and face my sins, knowing the fate of the city if someone else took my place."

P: "Sins which includes trying to kill me after I scared some of your thugs too much, despite the fact I never hurt them. The only thing I hurt there was your bottom line."

T: "If you think thats all you were doing, I envy your view of the world."

P: *confused tilt of the head* "I'm not following. What's there to envy? What else was I supposedly doing?"

T: *blinks* "You do know that one method of territory encroachment for mobs and mafias is crime prevention. perhaps I can better explain this from a business angle. Do you remember blockbusters?"

P: ""Okay, so I encroached on your territory. I think you're going to explain further because I'm still not getting it. You thought I was part of someone else's organization moving in on your rackets?"

T: Some what. Blockbuster took over the rental market by coming in with lower prices and once the other stores could not compete it took over and jacked up the prices. Often crime lords do the same, come in with protection and then start charging for it once they own the territory. I though you may have been an initial sting operation to test the water. Until I saw you starting to deal with the likes of Vulture. It was rather concerning, given that spiders were the calling card of none of the crime bosses I was familiar with. and unknowns are a lot more dangerous than typical take overs."

P: "I get how protection rackets work. *snorts* It's kinda funny you thought I was part of a rival shadow mob. What about afterwards, though? When you knew otherwise that wasn't just targeting you or trying to take over."

T: "An annoyance that made me network look weak and ripe for taking over. Had more than one gang fight. Montana's Enforcers and Hammerhead had quite a few rough weeks before things resettled into the status quo when everyone realized that you were an exception, not the rule."

P: *looks slightly sheepish* "Uh, not exactly my intention to start gang fights, or at least not like that. I didn't realize they got 'inspired' by my own fights."

T: *attempts to be reassuring* "I can see that now. But back then I wasnt sure what to think. Not like I had the ability to call and ask. Dont stress to much over it. they were small compared to what they could have been."

P: "Fair enough. Were there any casualties?" *a little worried still, but also trying to keep from telling his story for as long as possible*

T: "Not as many as there might have been. Given Montana's new suit, he was able to knock out a lot more people than normal. Now. Enough about my operations and thought on your first forays into the limelight of the underground. Ive shown my cards. might i see yours?"

P: "I was hoping you'd forget. Fine. I got my powers due to a lab accident. I didn't realize what had happened to me until I felt sick. Hot and cold flashes, senses dialed up to the nth degree, and my whole body was in a lot of pain. I passed out and woke up like this."

T: "Forgive my pressing, but I dont think that is enough to drive you to fight criminals all over the city."

P: "It's not. I didn't start out trying to do this; I just wanted to make some money for my family. So, I did some prize-fight type stuff, right up until I was cheated by the manager of this one establishment. Said I needed the money and I won it fair and square. He told me it wasn't his problem, but he sure changed his tune when his money got stolen. He yelled at me to catch the thief as he ran by."

T: *listening without interrupting*

P: *voices catches* "I told him. . .that it wasn't my problem. It felt good at the time to say that to him. I forgot about this when I returned home to the man who raised me; he was shot dead. I followed his murderer to the warehouse where the police had him trapped. Care to take a guess as to the guy's identity?"

Part 1 End

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

~*~

Hi! I'd like to rec a novel-canon parallel where the change is that people take on the physical scars of those they love romantically. It's incredibly well thought out, heartbreaking, and so beautiful! @allow-me-to-speak

Lovescars

by ardenrabbit (E, 35k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: When someone falls in love, their loved one's scars appear on them.

Wei Wuxian isn't certain that anyone will ever think taking his scars would be worth it.

The Lan Clan has an ugly history associated with lovescars, and Lan Wangji has only ever heard about them in the context of the family curse.

There are no scars related to platonic love. For some, this makes romantic love look more painful by comparison; for others, it only makes it harder for them to express their love for their family.

~*~

AHHH WELCOME BACK!!! i just wanted to rec this work in progress but its so good!!

A Price To Pay

by wangxianist (not rated, 80k, wangxian, xuanli, WIP)

Summary: Lan Zhan had always been cold to him, even before their marriage was arranged. On their wedding night, he didn't even remove the mask that had veiled Wei Wuxian all his life, and withdrew into his own, separate room. Two years passed like that. Scarce communication. Going months without seeing each other. Barely even glancing at one another. Lan Zhan didn't even know what his own husband looked like.

It was okay at first—a mutual understanding, a shared desire to be left to their own devices. Wei Wuxian would even say their arrangement was peaceful. But that illusion is shattered when his masks slips off his face.

~*~

'Possession' is one of the absolute best fics I have ever read. It is an unfinished fic but worth it. And RP verse by @sarah-yyy]. Your page has given me happiness. [Thank you!] So if you have time to spare plz do read this.

Possession

by trickanery (M, 52k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary: When the Wen Empire launches a bloody campaign to extend the reaches of its borders, their first target is the Kingdom of Gusu. Between the might of Emperor Wen’s army, the leadership of his two biological sons, and the dark, unorthodox powers of his adopted son, Wei Wuxian a.k.a. The Yiling Demon, Gusu is quickly crushed.

As the spoils of war are divided and the surviving Lan disciples are taken as slaves and prisoners, Wei Wuxian shocks the cultivation world by claiming his first and only war prize: the young enemy prince, Lan Wangji.

Both men soon learn that the distinctions between cruelty and kindness, good and evil, and love and hate are hazy and thin — especially when two souls like theirs are fated to meet.

RP verse

by @sarah-yyy​ [This link is to a Tumblr masterpost, because I don't think it's on AO3. Author if there's a summary/rating/word count somewhere, let me know and I'll put it here.]

~*~

[wisdomrays]

QALAQ (Pas­sion)

Literally meaning boredom with the place where one is and with the surrounding conditions, feeling discomfort as if in imprisonment or captivity, qalaq (passion) is intense love, deeper than the desire for Paradise that the ordinary worshipper feels, more profound than the feelings aroused by a Sufi leader's knowledge concerning God, and more intense than the lover's love for the beloved, and which exhausts his/her power to endure such love. The initiate falling in love to such an intense degree finds on the horizons of his or her innermost world glimmers of a meeting with the Beloved and feels his or her heart beating with the idea that above all is God's being pleased with them (9:72).

The Prophet Moses, upon him be peace, expresses this degree of passion that burns endurance to ashes with the desire of union in the words (20:84), I have hastened to You, my Lord, so that You may be well-pleased (with me). He manifests his extraordinary yearning and excitement to meet with his Lord.

There is another kind of passion manifesting itself in the form of distress in figurative love-the love felt by a person for one of the opposite sex-and that arises from the worry that the beloved may be loved by others. Jami' expresses such passion as follows:

When one says that he is a lover, this casts me into worry and distress,

For I am afraid that he is in love with my beloved.

Such passion should not be confused with the passion an initiate feels on the way to God. All sorrows and joys felt on this way are because of Him and from Him. For this reason, any pain or sorrow a traveler to God feels is sweet in itself, and the pleasures are as pleasant as the water of Paradise.

When the zeal and yearning felt to meet with the Beloved come to an unendurable point, whatever there is in the heart other than the desire for union vanishes. It even happens that love is, to a certain extent, not considered any more, and seekers progress to the following states according to the intensity of their passion:

All things, each according to its own "wavelength," begin to tire the seeker; the result is that at times the heart feels a desire for union with Him, while at other times it burns with the yearning to die to meet with Him. The fire is so great that the seeker sees none other than Him.

Despite corporeality and bodily desires, the seeker begins to be so immersed in profound spiritual life that neither reason nor will-power retain the capacity to control or give direction. As a result, the person cannot help falling into confusion in matters that require the ordinary operations of common sense and discernment:

I did not know myself as I see me now,

I wonder whether He is me or I am Him?

Not only in the performance of duties of worship and obedience to God, but also in worldly affairs the seeker now travels on the horizons of witnessing God's signs distinctly.

When the veil between a hero of passion and the Beloved is partly lifted so that the way to union shows itself to some degree, the initiate goes into a spiritual state of being seized by a fire from which there is no longer any possibility of rescue or escape. The initiate thinks of nothing more than meeting with the Truly Beloved One. The lover is at the same time as being a lover also a beloved, a willed one at the same time as being one who wills, and one sought for at the same time as one who is seeking.

It can be said that in the state in which he was before he began to receive the Revelation, God's Messenger experienced the first two kinds of passion mentioned above. The following verses that we quote from a long poem of Yazicizade Mehmed Effendi express this in a chaste language:

Why is it that you stay in such a sorrowful mood?

Why is it that there is sadness in your blessed inner world?

..............................................................................

Without answering them, he turned back again

to where he stayed and unburdened himself to the Almighty.

..............................................................................

He said: "My heart is in love and desire; my soul is on fire;

Why are these tears coming from my eyes, O Never-ending All-Ruling?

I have lost my patience, having come to the end of my endurance;

What can I say to my Beloved? I have no strength to bear all that takes place.

..............................................................................

Climbing the mountain, he prostrated, putting his face on the earth;

He wept and entreated God, saying: "O One never-ending!"

The angels saw him and pitied him,

And the maidens in Paradise shed their tears:

"O God! Your beloved one has made his upright body doubled over."

Many Companions of the Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, made similar utterances on this same point. "Tomorrow, I will join the friends-Muhammad and his Companions," is only one example of these.

The one who feels the greatest passion is also the master of the creatures, upon him be peace and God's blessings. At a time when the world offered itself to him with all its pomp and splendor, as the greatest of all creation, as one who had completed his duty and had come to the point where he could express his yearning for union with the Truly Beloved One, he said, "O my God! (Now it is time to go) to the Highest Friend!" and turned with all his being to the Absolutely Beloved One with the desire of fulfilling what was required of him by the rank of being beloved by Him. He put a full stop to the lines of ascent and descent by proving that he uniquely enjoyed the rank of being His beloved one. He was no longer Muhammad but was transformed into being Ahmad, and fully perceived that whatever he had and accomplished was all from God.

On him and his family be the most perfect of blessings to the fill of the heavens and the earth.

[angeltreasure]

Hello friend, sorry if this is a silly question but could you explain what the Eucharist is and why it is important? I’m in the beginning of my journey and feel so overwhelmed by google. Have a beautiful day 😊💛

I’ve been saving this ask for a while so this is so exciting! I apologize for my lateness. I usually answer right away but we have had trouble with the WiFi setting up. Anyway! Welcome Anon!!! I am so excited for your faith journey!! Welcome. 😊🙏🏻

Don’t worry, this isn’t a silly question at all. No, it’s a very good question! I am a Catholic, so I will be explaining my Christian denomination believes what the Eucharist is. In fact, this is a VERY important topic to learn about. I will give you my answer then give you some quotes and videos. Hope you enjoy.

The Eucharist IS Jesus Christ. You know how traffic lights are different colors? Red for stop, yellow to caution; slow down, and green for go? Well, you must understand if you choose to join the Catholic Church that the Eucharist is not a symbol. Although the appearance is a wafer bread and tastes like one, it is not plain like a traffic signal. When a priest blesses the host at a Catholic mass, the host transforms into the body of Jesus Christ. You will not see Jesus appear in the priest hand when he raises the host up for that blessing, and you will not taste human flesh when you eat of it. The veil between this world we live in and the afterlife block us so the appearance and taste remain as a wafer host but the substance has really changed into the body of Jesus Christ. Eating the bread means Christ becomes a part of us and makes us stronger in faith! ♥️

Here’s what the Bible says about the Eucharist, taken from my favorite New Testament book called Matthew. I will color the specific verse in the story as red to help you understand what we believe. In the story, Jesus and His disciples were preparing to find a place for Passover. There is a lot to unpack since you are very new to the faith, so I will skip right to the verses of what Jesus spoke. [Passover: “Passover is a Jewish holiday that honors the freedom and exodus of the Israelites (Jewish slaves) from Egypt during the reign of the Pharaoh Ramses II. Before the ancient Jews fled Egypt, their firstborn children were "passed over" and spared from death, thus dubbing the holiday "Passover."”]

….. “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” - Matthew 26:26-29

You see, at this point in time, His disciples did not fully understand the mystery surrounding what was to come. After this night, Jesus was betrayed by Judas (one of His followers) gave His life to die on the cross. In doing so, He saved us from the punishment of all of our sins and opened the gates to Heaven. Back in the past, animals were often given up a sacrifice. Jesus Himself was the perfect sacrificial lamb for slaughter in order to save us from death. This image is the very best that I love that describes the Eucharist Transubstantiation.

I love this one too…

So when you eat the blessed Eucharist and drink the blessed wine done by a Catholic priest, you really do consume the substance that is Jesus’s body, blood, soul, and divinity. Ever hear that phrase, “you are what you eat”? When we consume Jesus, that doesn’t mean we are cannibals, become God, or re-sacrifice Jesus. It means we become a better reflection of Jesus.

Catholics believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist because Jesus tells us this is true in the Bible: ““No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day. It is written in the Prophets: ‘They will all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard the Father and learned from him comes to me. Very truly I tell you, the one who believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” He said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?” Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before! The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him. He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.” From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” John 6:44-66

Fun facts!!!:

Eucharist: “is a transliteration of the Greek word eucharistia, which is itself a translation of the Hebrew word berekah. All three words have the meaning of thanksgiving, or praise for the wonderful works of God.”

Bethlehem: the city where Jesus was born means “House of Bread”!

Transubstantiation: “the conversion of the substance of the Eucharistic elements into the body and blood of Christ at consecration, only the appearances of bread and wine still remaining.”

I saw a poll that only one third of Catholics really believe in Transubstantiation. If you decide in your journey to become part of the Catholic Church, please do not ever forget the words Jesus spoke about Himself to His people and those who read today. He truly is present as the Eucharist and wine.

Did you know there is evidence that the Eucharist is truly Jesus?! They are called Eucharistic Miracles. There are sooo many stories from around the world of bleeding Eucharists that scientists and such have actually tested in their labs to find real they had human blood down to a specific blood type AND material evidence of finding human heart tissue not healthy and strong but distressed! Blessed Carlo Acutis (a young man that passed away that is currently in the process of sainthood here on Earth) created an amazing website that collected examples of Eucharistic Miracles. (See link below.) This subject itself is just extra icing on the cake but don’t fall down the rabbit hole so you don’t feel overwhelmed.

Bishop Barron on the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist

Explaining the Faith - The Eucharist In Scripture

Explaining the Faith - Eucharistic Miracles: Scientific Proof

The Veil Removed, what really happens during a Catholic Mass

I could give you so much more but this was just so wonderful to be able to teach you. Know that it’s ok to feel overwhelmed. The topic of what the Eucharist really is and why it is so important is so rich in history and traditions. I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity. If you ever have any more questions about it, I highly recommend reading sections about it in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (revised edition) but more importantly, reach out to a Catholic priest or bishop by calling them, e-mailing, or even dropping by in person. I am not part of the clergy at all, so talking to a Catholic priest or bishop, you will be able to answer any more questions you have to the Eucharist and they will explain it so well. If you are interested in wanting to know more about the Catholic Faith, I strongly suggest asking about the RCIA, free classes offered by your nearest Catholic Church which will allow you to explore what the Catholic Faith is and answer any questions you have. No pressure though, but just know we are here for you. I am so happy you were chosen as well by God! I will pray that you have a wonderful, exciting journey! God bless and you have a wonderful day/night as well.

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ��don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 149

Qal­aq (Pas­sion)

Literally meaning boredom with the place where one is and with the surrounding conditions, feeling discomfort as if in imprisonment or captivity, qalaq(passion) is intense love, deeper than the desire for Paradise that the ordinary worshipper feels, more profound than the feelings aroused by a Sufi leader’s knowledge concerning God, and more intense than the lover’s love for the beloved, and which exhausts his/her power to endure such love. The initiate falling in love to such an intense degree finds on the horizons of his or her innermost world glimmers of a meeting with the Beloved and feels his or her heart beating with the idea that above all is God’s being pleased with them (9:72).

The Prophet Moses, upon him be peace, expresses this degree of passion that burns endurance to ashes with the desire of union in the words (20:84), I have hastened to You, my Lord, so that You may be well-pleased (with me). He manifests his extraordinary yearning and excitement to meet with his Lord.

There is another kind of passion manifesting itself in the form of distress in figurative love-the love felt by a person for one of the opposite sex-and that arises from the worry that the beloved may be loved by others. Jami’ expresses such passion as follows:

When one says that he is a lover, this casts me into worry and distress, For I am afraid that he is in love with my beloved. Such passion should not be confused with the passion an initiate feels on the way to God. All sorrows and joys felt on this way are because of Him and from Him. For this reason, any pain or sorrow a traveler to God feels is sweet in itself, and the pleasures are as pleasant as the water of Paradise.

When the zeal and yearning felt to meet with the Beloved come to an unendurable point, whatever there is in the heart other than the desire for union vanishes. It even happens that love is, to a certain extent, not considered any more, and seekers progress to the following states according to the intensity of their passion:

All things, each according to its own “wavelength,” begin to tire the seeker; the result is that at times the heart feels a desire for union with Him, while at other times it burns with the yearning to die to meet with Him. The fire is so great that the seeker sees none other than Him. Despite corporeality and bodily desires, the seeker begins to be so immersed in profound spiritual life that neither reason nor will-power retain the capacity to control or give direction. As a result, the person cannot help falling into confusion in matters that require the ordinary operations of common sense and discernment: I did not know myself as I see me now, I wonder whether He is me or I am Him? Not only in the performance of duties of worship and obedience to God, but also in worldly affairs the seeker now travels on the horizons of witnessing God’s signs distinctly.

When the veil between a hero of passion and the Beloved is partly lifted so that the way to union shows itself to some degree, the initiate goes into a spiritual state of being seized by a fire from which there is no longer any possibility of rescue or escape. The initiate thinks of nothing more than meeting with the Truly Beloved One. The lover is at the same time as being a lover also a beloved, a willed one at the same time as being one who wills, and one sought for at the same time as one who is seeking. It can be said that in the state in which he was before he began to receive the Revelation, God’s Messenger experienced the first two kinds of passion mentioned above. The following verses that we quote from a long poem of Yazicizade Mehmed Effendi[1] express this in a chaste language:

Why is it that you stay in such a sorrowful mood? Why is it that there is sadness in your blessed inner world?

……………………………………………………………………

Without answering them, he turned back again to where he stayed and unburdened himself to the Almighty.

……………………………………………………………………

He said: “My heart is in love and desire; my soul is on fire; Why are these tears coming from my eyes, O Never-ending All-Ruling? I have lost my patience, having come to the end of my endurance; What can I say to my Beloved? I have no strength to bear all that takes place.

……………………………………………………………………

Climbing the mountain, he prostrated, putting his face on the earth; He wept and entreated God, saying: “O One never-ending!” The angels saw him and pitied him, And the maidens in Paradise shed their tears: “O God! Your beloved one has made his upright body doubled over.” Many Companions of the Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, made similar utterances on this same point. “Tomorrow, I will join the friends-Muhammad and his Companions,” is only one example of these.[2]

The one who feels the greatest passion is also the master of the creatures, upon him be peace and God’s blessings. At a time when the world offered itself to him with all its pomp and splendor, as the greatest of all creation, as one who had completed his duty and had come to the point where he could express his yearning for union with the Truly Beloved One, he said, “O my God! (Now it is time to go) to the Highest Friend!”[3] and turned with all his being to the Absolutely Beloved One with the desire of fulfilling what was required of him by the rank of being beloved by Him. He put a full stop to the lines of ascent and descent[4] by proving that he uniquely enjoyed the rank of being His beloved one. He was no longer Muhammad but was transformed into being Ahmad,[5] and fully perceived that whatever he had and accomplished was all from God.

On him and his family be the most perfect of blessings to the fill of the heavens and the earth.

[1] Yazicizade, Mehmed ibn Salih (d. 1451) Author of Muhammadiya. Buried in Canakkale, Turkey. (Trans.) [2] Ahmad ibn Hanbal, al-Musnad, 3:223, 262. [3] Al-Bukhari, “Marda’,” 19; Al-Muslim, “Salam,” 46. [4] A human being’s coming to the world from the world of spirits is that person’s descent, and the life in this world ending in death with the subsequent chain of events until he or she enters Paradise, which is his or her return to God, is the ascent. (Trans.) [5] The Messenger’s name before his coming to the world was Ahmad. Prophet Jesus promised his coming with this name (61:6). He was Muhammad during his life-time in the world and during his mission of Messengership. He is also called Ahmad in the other world after his death. With its own peculiarities, his being Ahmad is called the reality of his being Ahmad (Haqiqat al-Ahmadiya) in the Sufi terminology, and his being Muhammad with its own characteristics, the reality of his being Muhammad (Haqiqat al-Muhammadiya)

[tsarisfanfiction]

For the Fanfic Writer asks, could I please request D, T, and Z please?

D: What’s the most personal fanfic you’ve written?

@gaviiadastra also asked this one.

Considering how much I've written, the answer to this is a lot easier than I thought it would be. Two fics immediately sprang to mind; both are ventfics I wrote while life was tough about a year ago (it's amazing how you just don't see how low your psyche's got until you're out of the situation and can look back on it in horror), and both of them I was blessed by other authors adding to, which felt genuinely like a personal reassurance and hug that people saw me and wanted to help me.

The first of these two is Bloodbath, which @gumnut-logic wrote an amazing part two for. It's one of the darker things I've written, in terms of imagery, I think, which tracks with my mood at the time.

The second of the two is Easier, which @gumnut-logic and @thunderbird-one-ai both added to, which prompted me to be able to round it off with a concluding chapter where everything started looking up again.

The sheer love I got from the fandom in response to these very personal ventfics was humbling, and pulled me out of somewhere that was a lot darker than I think I realised at the time.

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

I am reasonably open to most things, but if it gives me second-hand embarrassment then it's absolutely out. Misunderstandings often falls into this category, especially in ship fics. I love emotional angst, as I'm sure all my followers are aware, but I don't do so well when it stems from that sort of plot, for some reason.

Romance fics in general I tend to get a little side-eye-y at. Romcom stuff is a no, coffee shop AUs etc. are normally a no, and high school AUs are something I've gained less and less tolerance for over the years. ABO fics are very rarely done in a way that appeals to me (I have found one or two with fantastic worldbuilding and character dynamics, but more often than not they're thinly-veiled excuses for terribly characterised porn fics, and I'm an adult who will read some nsfw but terrible characterisation is a fast way to get me to hit that close tab x). This also goes for things like genderbending, which can be done well so I occasionally brave them, but often I find myself bored or worse by them and back the hell away.

Z: Is there a story you’ve written that doesn’t seem to get much love?

There are several, but that comes with the territory of writing as much as I do, honestly. If you separate out all of my collective-works into their individual stories rather than the collection story I post them as on AO3, I've got somewhere in the region of a thousand stories out there, and of course as I've written for lots of fandoms over the years, I have to take into account fandom size and activity.

For example, my TAG and TOA stuff doesn't get much interaction compared to, say, my Detective Conan works, but the fandom sizes are barely comparable - and let alone when you then look at my One Piece stuff, where I often write for a popular character in a huge fandom. Crossovers also tend to have a notable drop in engagement, presumably because most readers (like me) tend not to bother with them if they don't know all the involved fandoms.

My Lord of the Rings drabble collection Vulnerabilities is probably top of the list, though; it's the only one that got so little interaction that I gave up even trying to get to the one hundred chapters I aimed for with the other fandom drabble collections, and yet the fandom itself is huge and very active. It's also intimidating and terrifying to write for because the fandom seem to be so well-versed in the nuances of lore I could never grasp (I still haven't been able to get through The Silmarillion, for example), and I can only assume my writing and interpretations simply wasn't up to par. Was that a little disappointing? I won't lie, it was. But was it unexpected? Not very, honestly. A little, because I'd thought a fandom that huge would still have something to give me and I got almost nothing, but not so much that it surprised me.

Fanfic Writer Asks

[jamespotterthefirst]

You, My Darling, You

Book: Foreign Affairs Pairing: m!Blaine Hayes x f!MC (Valentina Ferrer); Tatum Mendoza x f!MC Word count: 900  Warning: none Summary: Blaine Hayes doesn’t easily admit defeat. Until he sees them together. 

Song: I Will Always Love You 

A/N: Not me crying to Whitney Houston on a Sunday. 

“Are you admitting defeat so easily?” she says with a satisfied smile. 

In her victory, Valentina keeps her voice low so as to keep the stern librarian stalking the shadows of her library at bay. The effect is a coy little whisper that sends his pulse racing. That, combined with how close she is standing as they pack their books away, has Blaine Hayes silently struggling to find words for once in his life. 

“I'm disappointed, Hayes. I thought you'd be more of a—” Chocolate brown eyes move to his then, pinning him in place.  “—challenge.”

If there is anything Blaine loves more than full, pink lips and pretty doe eyes it's a challenge. 

“Not so fast, Rutherland,” he says, summoning his laziest and most charming smile. “If there is one thing you should know about me is that I don't throw in the towel that easily.”

“You should.”

He can see the megawatt charm working in the way her bravado falters briefly. Her arms are crossed across her chest a little too tightly to be casual and her eyes fall briefly to his lips. The movement is so quick that anyone could have missed it. 

Except Blaine, try as he might, doesn't miss a single thing she does. 

“For the record, though, carefully formulating a response to your compelling argument on the Rutherland Dissent is not admitting defeat,” he continues. 

Valentina laughs at that. “Made you think, did I?” 

She makes Blaine think all the time. He thinks of how her soft, lush lips would taste, moving desperately against his. He thinks of where their hands would go, hungrily tugging and roaming each other. He thinks of the sweet, maddening noises she would make as he kissed her everywhere she breathlessly begged. 

“Try not to hurt yourself,” she teases, her voice a soft murmur now. 

They are standing close now, so close that anyone who glanced at them would have little doubt of what he longed to do. Maybe she wants to kiss him too because Valentina doesn't move away. She holds his gaze, eyes bright with invitation, charging the air around them. 

“Miss Ferrer,” a deep, quiet, and pointed voice says from behind him. 

Valentina jolts back as though burned, turning an anxious expression at her bodyguard. 

“We're all clear to leave the premises.”

“Right,” she says, all flirtation gone from her demeanor. To Blaine she adds, “Is it okay if we meet tomorrow evening, too? Hopefully we can get this thing done and over with.”

To his annoyance, those last words sting as much as the hasty way she distanced herself from him. Blaine simply nods, jaw tight. 

Valentina pauses, opening her mouth as though she wants to say something. Thinking better of it, however, she presses her lips closed and starts toward the exit with her tall and infuriatingly handsome bodyguard flanking her. 

Before they disappear, Blaine chances one last look at her, dismissing the urge to follow her. As though sensing his eyes on her, Valentina glances over her shoulder, dark eyes meeting his from across the library, making his insides tug and tighten. 

It’s all it takes for Blaine to impulsively follow her out minutes later. What he intended to do or say, he wasn’t entirely sure, particularly when her bodyguard would be there too, dark, brooding eyes burning into him. 

The sound of Valentina’s laughter reaches him before he sees them, making their way up the cobblestone path. 

“I told you,” her bodyguard is saying. His voice, usually so quiet, sounds different now when he speaks to Valentina. It’s softer, coated with notes of familiarity and something else Blaine can’t place.

“I’m not doing it.”

“You did it once before, Tatum.”

“That was years ago and you were too drunk to walk. It’s not happening again.”

Valentina stops under the shadow of a low-hanging tree, turning to face her companion with a very serious and determined expression. She is different now, her expression less guarded, her mannerisms natural and free from years of schooling them into the picture of perfection. 

“Not even if I sing?”

This inspires a ghost of a smile on the bodyguard’s stony demeanor. Valentina sees this too because her expression melts into one of pure joy, bright and incandescent as the sun itself. 

Blaine almost has to look away.

“Especially if you sing.”

The spark of a challenge lights up her eyes.

“If I should stay, I would only be in your way,” she begins to sing, her voice melodic and holding the notes decently well. 

“Val,” Tatum begins with a sigh. 

“So I’ll go but I know,” she continues, fully grinning now. 

Tatum grins too, unable to resist the short, charming, singing girl before him. “You’re disrespecting poor Whitney. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“I’ll think of you every step of the way,” Valentina continues, undeterred. The last notes slip from her lips like honey, a sweet, almost sorrowful sound. 

The meaning of the words seem to dawn on Tatum because his smile vanishes. 

Valentina’s does too. 

In the pause before the next verse, she looks up at him through an agonized veil. Tatum is perfectly still in return, looking down at her with palpable longing. It’s how Blaine imagines he himself looks at her on most days.

“And I—” she begins to sing bravely, quietly, so quietly as if she intends the following words to be only for Tatum. “— will always—”

“Val,” he implores in a whisper, throat working as he swallows. 

Hearing his silent plea, she stops, face tight with resignation. 

She doesn’t have to sing or say the interrupted words for Blaine to hear them. They’re resounding in the way she looks at him, as though willing him to lay down all his defenses and kiss her. They burn through his insides as painfully as if she had shouted them across the quad.

They’re loud and echoing in his head as he accepts the bitter sting of defeat for the first time in his life.

Author’s Note: I don’t know what I was. All I know is that I’m emo, listening to Whitney now.

I don’t know who to tag, so I’ll tag separately.