#Thread;Yanluo

[areumxmp]

My fault, I'm sober

continued from hereeee, with @mpyanluo

None of this was Yanluo's fault. For many reasons including the fact that Areum is... a behemoth thats COVERED in tattoos and not knowing he's the son of Tohil it could be very confusing as to why he's still just wearing... a t shirt... and ripped jeans? No sweater? no hat? Ears and limbs bracing the cold with ease? It's worth a stare. It's also not the God's fault that Areum forgot his medication at the house this morning and had become panic level aware of that fact about twenty minutes ago. So when he's walking through downtown to get back home and see's Yanluo, it's almost wrong place wrong time. In Areum's unmedicated brain, his thoughts run wild, so wild they don't ever feel like his own, and each nerve he could possibly have is sparking within his skin. At least it feels like it. Thoughts that the sparks can control him and bring him back to his brutal reality life had been so fucking determined to make for Areum. Without a way to suppress them, he struggles to know where his reality is, who he's talking to, who's talking for him. Luckily for Yanluo (and himself because he would get his ass wooped) his medication is wearing off, yes, but he's still got enough ahold of himself to see the genuine confusion on the God's face. The large demi god takes a few steps back, taking a few deep breaths along with them. "My fault, G. I left my meds at home and I'm not feeling too hot. That's my fault." He keeps backing up and repeating the phrase as if to make himself look smaller because of the distance. He doesn't like being this way. It scares him.

[kazxmp]

How to Trust a Goth With Your Bathroom in 21 Days

Continued from here for the appreciation of artistic talent and beauty, both traditional and modern alike; for @mpyanluo

Throughout his life Kaz felt like he had seen at least a little bit of everything, so when Yanluo had first walked into the doors of Marimo Ink, dressed in the glory that was his traditional attire, Kaz wasn't phased in the slightest. Instead it had done exactly as intended and somewhat prepared Kaz for not only the interaction but for what the God might have been wanting. Of course, Kaz could have looked at that attire and drawn something similar but it was important to the goth that his clients or soon to be clients, understood that his style has no bounds. Kaz showed that in many more ways by inviting Yanluo here even though he knew the God wasn't looking for a tattoo. All around the shop is versions of his art and not just in the traditional tattoo sense. Other than his portfolio, there's moss creations on the walls, spray painted accent walls, and potted plants that Kaz made all the pots for. Every part of this Shop that he lovingly calls his own, has his art in it. Though the moment Yanluo started speaking of his desires in that smooth tone he has, Kaz knew just what to show him. "If you're up for a walk, I can show you one that's not far." Without even waiting for the proper response though he is already up and grabbing his cigs and his coat from the chair. The goth can not always be a man of many words but he was more than excited for a piece like this. He loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooves a mural. And more than that he loves a bathroom mural. Because- "You know, bathrooms are the most under thought of rooms in public places. Sure sometimes people keep the shit clean but it isn't always about just that. it's about going into a place and every inch of it looks and feels like the rest. AND Seeing beauty in a place society has deemed so unnatural and disgusting only ends up bringing peace to the disturbed. And that's my favorite kind of art." Well, a man of many words when he's passionate he guesses. As he leads the way down the block to a more secluded area, on the side of a building where no one rents, he keeps speaking. "All of that to say, I'd love to do the piece. And if you like what I'm about to show you, I'd be more than happy to do it, and am confident it's well within my skillset." He says so very confidently because he knows just how to get that exact brush method onto walls that are normally unfit to do so. As his brain already flips through ideas as if the ripples in the flesh up there are pages of a catalog, he rounds a corner, popping a cig in his mouth and backing up only to let the wall in front of them do the talking. A few months into being here on the island, Kaz had asked one of the building owners if he could paint the outside of this unused one. He had so much muse at the time because for once he was starting to feel comfortable somewhere. For once, the landscape in front of him looked promising. So on the wall, the edges of it are painted as if it's see through, and at the right angle the building starts to disappear until it is nothing but the false landscape of the building. From the center of it, instead of looking like behind the building truly would, it opens up to a scape of city buildings with flowers growing out of windows and cracks in the brick; a blue sky with sun rays that wash over the whole painting so surreal like it's almost criminal that it's too cold out to feel it. The entire thing took him ages. But the amount of detail in it is insane, and says wonders to his ability to do things he has and hasn't done before. Puffing on his cigarette he watches the ethereal God take in his work. "I can create a mock up for the specific style you want in a few days and you can make your decision then if you are still unsure."

[mpxkiki]

Thread Log || Kiki 04/06/2024

A collective of threads on this muse. For clarity on why things were dropped or listed in any particular way, please DM the typist! Recall, dropped threads are not personal.

From Hell with Love (My Turn):

*None. Muse is up to date.

Awaiting (Your Turn): * Rain Check - @ezraxmp * Things That Bloom - @maibeemp * My Darkness Sees Yours - @mperik * Simply Harmless, Maybe - @mp-minry * Mommy Issues - @mpxraven * Rolling Colours - @mpxayden (possibly)

Available Open Starters: * None currently.

Dropped (due to muse departure, time out on either side, etc.): - Butterly pt.2 (Yura) - Showtime! (Yanluo) Completed: + Love in a Hot Cup - Mai

Pending Ideas:

~ open to new things!

If you have questions or need clarification on any above threads please message me! This muse is available to take on more threads!

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 7

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - This Venerable One Likes Wontons

The scorching sun was blazing.

The veranda of Life-Death Peak stretched for mile.

As a rising star among immortal cultivators, it was quite different from the other famous clans of the immortal world.

Take the most prosperous Rufeng Sect of Linyi. The main hall of the sect was called the "Six Virtues Hall", which intended to encourage disciples to be "wise, faithful, holy, righteous, benevolent, and loyal" in accordance with the six virtues. The area where the disciples live was called the "Six Behaviours Gate", which warns the disciples to practice "filial piety, friendship, harmony, marriage, responsibility, and compassion." The place where classes were taught was called "Six Arts Platform", which meant that disciples needed to be proficient in the six skills of "ritual, music, archery, riding, calligraphy, and mathematics".

All in all, its elegance was endless.

On the other hand, Life-Death Peak came from a poor background. Its names were hard to explain. "Danxin Hall" and "Platform of Righteousness and Evil" were alright. Perhaps it was because Mo Ran's father and his uncle weren't scholars and couldn't determine any better names. After a while, the names started to get more nonsensical, naming things "Xue Ya" -sounding names left and right.

Therefore, there are many plagiarised names from the underworld on Life-Death Peak. For example, the room where disciples practiced self-reflection was called Yanluo Hall.

The jade bridge connecting the resting area and the teaching area was called Naihe Bridge. The dining hall was called Mengpo Hall, the martial arts field was called Mountain of Daggers and Sea of Flames. The forbidden area of ​​the back of the mountain is called the Ghost Room, and so on.

These weren't too bad, but there were other places simply called "This is a mountain", "This is water", "This is a pit", as well as the famous "Ahhhhh" and "Wahhhhhh" cliffs.

The elders’ dormitories naturally did not escape, and each has their own nickname.

Chu Wanning was naturally no exception. He liked peace and didn't want to live near others. His residence was built on the South Peak of Life-Death Peak, hidden in a sea of ​​bamboo. There was a pool in front of the main hall, and the pool was red from lotus petals blocking the sunlight from reflecting off it. Because of its abundance of spiritual power, the lotus flowers were in full bloom all year round in the pool, like red clouds.

The disciples secretly called this beautiful place--

Red Lotus Hell.

When Mo Ran thought of this, he couldn't help but laugh.

Chu Wanning wore a terrifying face every single day, and the disciples who saw him thought he was the devil himself. Therefore, shouldn't the place where the devil stays be called hell?

Xue Meng interrupted his daydream: "You laugh even though you were scolded! Hurry up and eat breakfast. After eating, follow me to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil. Shizun will punish you in public today!"

Mo Ran sighed, and touched the whip mark on his face: "Hss. . . ow."

"You deserved it!"

"Hah, I wonder if Tianwen has been repaired. I hope he doesn't try it out on me again before it's fixed. Who knows what nonsense I might say."

In the face of Mo Ran's sincere concerns, Xue Meng's face flushed, and he angrily said: "If you dare to speak out indecently in public against Shizun, I'll rip your tongue out!"

Mo Ran covered his face and waved his hand faintly: "No need, no need, if Shizun ties me with willow vine again, I will end myself on the spot to prove my innocence."

When the hour came, Mo Ran was brought to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil according to customs. He looked around, and there was a deep blue sea of ​​people below. The disciples of Life-Death Peak all wore the sect uniform; blue so dark it was almost black armour, the lion's head belt, wrist guards and the silver threads gleaming on the hems of robes.

The rising sun, below the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, the sea of armour shone.

Mo Ran kneeled on the raised platform, listening to a chief elder list off a long list of the crimes he'd committed.

"Mo Weiyu, disciple of Elder Yuheng, arrogantly disregarded teachings, disobeyed the rules of the sect, and abandoned morality. You have violated the fourth, ninth, and fifteenth mandates of this sect. As punishment, you will receive 80 strikes, copy the sect rules a hundred times and reflect in solitude for a full month. Mo Weiyu, is there anything you have to say in your defense?"

Mo Ran glanced at the white figure in the distance.

That elder was the only member of Life-Death Peak who wasn't required to wear the standard blue and silver rim robe.

Chu Wanning's robe was made of snow-white satin, an outer robe made of cloud-patterned silver silk, like he was dressed in a heavenly frost, but the person wearing it seemed far more frigid than either snow or frost. He sat quietly, far enough away that Mo Ran couldn't see the expression on his face, but he knew that this person was probably completely unphased.

Mo Ran let out a deep sigh: "I have nothing to argue."

According to customary practice, the chief elder asked the disciples below: "If anyone is dissatisfied with the verdict, or has something else to say, this is the time to make such a statement."

All the disciples began to hesitate and averted their gaze.

None of them expected that the Yuheng Elder Chu Wanning would actually send his disciple to be punished publicly on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil.

To put it nicely, this person was impartial, but to word it differently, was also called a cold-blooded demon.

The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning faintly propped his chin and sat in the position. Suddenly someone shouted with amplifying technique: "Elder Yuheng, this disciple is willing to plead for leniency on behalf of Young Master Mo."

". . . Plead?"

This disciple obviously felt that since Mo Ran was the nephew of Life-Death Peak's lord, even if he had screwed up this time, his future prospects would still be bright, so he decided to take the opportunity to win Mo Ran's favour. He began to talk nonsense: "Although Junior Brother Mo is at fault, he loves his fellow students and helps the weak. Please treat consider being lenient for the sake of his kind nature!"

Obviously, he was not the only one hoping to please Junior Brother Mo.

Gradually, more and more people spoke up for Mo Ran. They threw out all sorts of arguments, it made even Mo Ran embarrassed to hear; when had he ever had "an innocent heart, pure and open-minded"? This was a disciplinary meeting, not a commendation meeting, right?

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me exterminate demons and killed deadly beasts. I would like to beg on Junior Brother Mo's behalf. His merits will offset his demerits, and I hope that Elder will lighten his punishment!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dispel my demons when I experience qi deviation. I believe Junior Brother Mo made a mistake this time and was only momentarily confused. I also ask Elder to please be lenient on Junior Brother!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once gave me an elixir to save my mother. He is a benevolent person. Please, Elder, punish him lightly!"

The last person’s remarks were based on the previous disciples', and he was at a loss for words. Seeing Chu Wanning's frozen eyes sweep over, the anxious disciple didn't hesitate to say: “Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dual cultivate--”

"Pff." Someone couldn't help laughing.

The disciple immediately blushed and retreated.

"Yuheng, calm your anger, calm your anger..." Seeing that the chief elder was not happy, he went to his side and hurriedly persuaded him.

Chu Wanning said coldly: "I have never seen such a shameless person. What is his name? Whose disciple?"

The chief elder hesitated a little, then bit the bullet and said softly, "My disciple, Yao Lian."

Chu Wanning raised his eyebrows: "Your disciple? Save face*?"

(Pronounced the same as Yao Lian's name)

The chief elder couldn't help but feel embarrassed, and his old face tried to change the subject with a red face: "He's talented at singing, and he can be useful when he receives the offerings."

Chu Wanning scoffed and turned away, not wanting to waste time talking nonsense with this shameless chief elder.

There were thousands of people on Life-Death Peak. A couple flatterers were nothing surprising.

Seeing the conviction in the faces of his sect brothers, Mo Ran himself almost trusted their words. Very impressive indeed. It turns out he wasn't the only person in this sect that knew how to concoct wild stories in broad daylight. There were many talented people here.

Chu Wanning, who had heard "Elder Yuheng, please be merciful" countless times, finally spoke to the disciples.

"Pleading for Mo Weiyu?" He paused and said, "Yes, all of you may come up."

Those people didn't know what would happen and went up tremblingly.

A golden light flashed in Chu Wanning's palm. Tianwen appeared as commanded, and wrapped around the dozens of people together with a whistle, and tied them firmly in place.

Not again!!

Mo Ran was beginning to get desperate. Just the sight of Tianwen made his legs weak. He really didn’t know where Chu Wanning got such a perverted weapon. It was a good thing he had never taken a wife in his previous life. The poor girl who would marry him, if she didn't get whipped to death, she would be questioned to death.

Chu Wanning's eyes were quite mocking. He asked one of them: "Mo Ran helped you ward off evil spirits?"

How could the disciple resist the torture of TIanwen? He immediately howled: "No! No!"

He asked another one: "Mo Ran helped you overcome your qi deviation?"

"Ah! Never! Never!"

"Mo Ran gave you an elixir?"

"Ah—! Help! No, no! I made it up! I made it up!"

Chu Wanning loosened the hold, but then raised his hand and waved the weapon fiercely, it crackling and blazing, Tianwen suddenly lashed out and hit the backs of the lying disciples.

There were screams instantly, blood splashing.

Chu Wanning's eyebrows furrowed, and he scolded: "What are you calling? Kneel down! Disciple attendant!"

"Here."

"Deliver the punishment!"

"Understood!"

As a result, instead of reaping the benefits of defending Mo Ran, each of them was beaten with ten strikes each for violating the mandate of deception, plus a bonus willow vine lash gifted by Elder Yuheng.

After nightfall, Mo Ran lay on his bed. Although he had been given medicine, his back was covered with staggered scars. He couldn't even turn himself over without almost crying from the pain. He sniffled.

He had been born, so whimpering like this made him look like a fluffy, abandoned kitten. But it was a pity that his thoughts didn't match that cute kitten image.

He gripped the bedding and bit into the sheets, imagining that this was that bastard Chu Wanning. He bit! Kicked! Stomped! Tore!

The only comfort is that Shi Mei came to visit him with a bowl of wontons. He stared at him with those gentle and pitiful eyes, and Mo Ran's tears fell even more fiercely.

He didn't care whether men were supposed to hold in their tears or not, he loved to act spoiled in front of the person he liked.

"Does it still hurt a lot? Can you sit up?" Shi Mei sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. "Shizun, he. . . he was too cruel. Look at your back. . . there are several wounds. Some are still bleeding."

Mo Ran's heart softened, a warmth gradually rose in his chest. His teary eyes lifted from the bedding and he blinked.

"Since Shi Mei cares about me so much, I, I'm not in too much pain anymore."

"Oh, how can it not hurt if you look like this? You know what Shizun's temperament is like, will you dare do something like this in the future?"

In the candlelight, Shi Mei looked at him a little helplessly and a little distressedly. The amorous eyes were gleaming, like warm spring water.

Mo Ran's heart moved slightly, and he cleverly said: "Never again. I swear.

"Does anyone believe your promises anymore?" Even though he said that, Shi Mei also smiled, "The wontons are getting cold, can you sit up? If you can't get up, just lie on your stomach and I will feed you."

Mo Ran had already climbed up halfway, but immediately collapsed back down when he heard this.

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Whether it was this life or his previous one, Mo Ran's favourite food was Shi Mei's handmade wontons. The dough was as thin as a cloud of smoke, and the filling was tender and moist, melting in his mouth after every bite.

Especially the soup, the milky consistency, sprinkled with green onions, tender yellow egg wisps, and topped with a spoonful of spicy chilli peppers fried with garlic. It made whoever ate it feel so warm that they would never be cold again.

Shi Mei carefully spoonfed him. While feeding him, he said: "I didn't put any chilli oil today. You're badly hurt. Spice isn't good for recovery. Just drink the broth instead."

Mo Ran stared at him and he couldn't look away. He smiled: "Spicy or not, as long as you made it, it's delicious."

"Smooth talker." Shi Mei also smiled, picking up a poached egg lying in the soup, "Here's your reward, I know you like them."

Mo Ran laughed, a small tuft of hair curling on his forehead, like a flower blooming: "Shi Mei."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing, I just felt like saying your name."

". . ."

The hair tuft swayed back and forth.

"Shi Mei."

Shi Mei held back a smile: "Just felt like it again?"

"Hmm, just saying your name makes me happy."

Shi Mei sat silently for a moment then gently touched his forehead: "Silly boy, do you have a fever?"

Mo Ran let out a laugh. He rolled over, looking at him sideways, his eyes bright, as if full of fine stars.

"It would be a dream if I could eat Shi Mei's wontons every day"

He truly meant it.

After Shi Mei died, Mo Ran had always wanted to try the wontons he made again, but it is what it is, and he wasn't coming back.

At that time, Chu Wanning hadn't completely broken off all relations with him. Whether it was out of guilt or something else, he didn't know, but when he saw Mo Ran knelt in front of Shi Mei's coffin in a daze, Chu Wanning went quietly to the kitchen, kneaded dough and minced the fillings, carefully folded a couple wontons. But Mo Ran saw what he was doing before he had finished. With the loss of the love of his life, Mo Ran just couldn't bear it. He felt like Chu Wanning was doing it to mock him, a botched attempt at imitating them, a deliberate insult to injury.

Shi Mei was dead. Chu Wanning could have saved him, but he refused to help. Afterwards, he wanted to replace Shi Mei and make wontons for Mo Ran instead? Did he think that this would make him happy?

He rushed into the kitchen and knocked over all the utensils. The round wontons fell out of his hands and all over the floor.

He screamed at Chu Wanning: "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're worthy of replacing him? Of making the food he used to? Shi Mei is dead, are you satisfied? Or do you have to torture your disciples until they go mad or die before you're happy? Chu Wanning! No one in this world can make those wontons anymore. You can try but you'll never be him!"

Now he was eating this bowl with such deep joy. He slowly ate them, savouring them. Although he was still smiling, his eyes were a little moist. Fortunately, the candlelight was dim, and Shi Mei couldn't see his subtle expression clearly.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Shi Mei froze for a moment, and then smiled gently: "Isn't it just a bowl of wontons? No need to be so formal about it. If you like them, I will always make them for you in the future."

Mo Ran wanted to say, the thanks wasn't just for the wontons.

Thank you also, whether in the last life or in this life, for being the only one to look out for me, not caring about my origins, didn't care about the fourteen years I spent scavenging around.

Thank you, because if it weren't for the sudden thought of you, after being reborn, I'm afraid I would not be able to stop myself from killing Rong Jiu. I would've made a big mistake, and walked the same path I had before.

Fortunately, in this life, I was reborn before you die. I will definitely take good care of you. If you are sick, and that cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning is unwilling to save you, I will.

But how could he have said these words aloud?

In the end, Mo Ran just drank the soup, leaving not even a single green onion behind. He licked his lips unconsciously, his dimples prominent, and he was as cute as a very fluffy little cat.

"Will there be more tomorrow?"

Shi Mei couldn't help but shake his head: "You don't want something else? Won't you get sick of them?"

"I'll never get tired of your wontons, as long as you don't get tired of making them."

Shi Mei shook his head and smiled: "I don't know if there's enough flour left. If there's not enough, I'm afraid I can't make it. If I can't, do you think the eggs in sweet soup are alright instead? They are also one of your favourites."

"Okay, okay. As long as you make it, anything is okay."

Mo Ran's heart surged. He was so happy he could roll around in the blankets.

Look at caring Shi Mei is, Chu Wanning, you go screw yourself! I get to lie in bed with a beauty taking care of me, hehe!

Thinking of Shizun, a rush of anger mixed with the tenderness he had been feeling.

Mo Ran started to dig the bottom of the headboard with resentment again. He cursed, what Yuheng of the Night Sky, what the Beidou Immortal, it's all fucking bullshit!

Chu Wanning, just wait and see!!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[coe-lilium]

Good for the wood, thanks for reminding me!

We'll have to agree to disagree on the demon, in the -imo unlikely- case the boys didnt intend for it to kill James they were ignorant idiots about it *not* being the most likely outcome ("we didnt mean to kill a boy while setting a boys-killing-beast loose on him" is... not a good defence).

Saying that Tatiana was a more dangerous person wasnt meant to absolve Elias in the slightest, there is none for him (except my confusion in character presentation/narrative differences between Matthew's alcoholism and Elias', which I suspect (but, again, the narrative ignores the thread so idk) also begun as coping mechanism after the Yanluo/Diyu mission). But I still consider her and what she did to be much worse, both as a direct level of threat and in what she put in Grace's mind, which in relation pushed her to do worse than Alastair and for much longer.

I really agree with you about how alastair and grace arent really comparable. Alastair is regretful and have stopped doing the bad he did. Grace contlnues to do bad things pretty late into the trilogy and does them knowing they are bad without being forced to. Theres also the fact that Alastair didnt know what he did would have terrible consequences grace knows and does it anyway.

Yeah, I totally agree, but also even disregarding both the consequences and the rationale, comparing them is ludicrous. One person was kind of a jerk in school when they were 15 and said some regrettable things; the other one sexually assaulted three or more people while mind-controlling someone for years and stealing most of their youth. It's not the same.

[crouchingtiger28]

Above and Below

Everyone knows about the Belows. Once a city exists for long enough, when human lives wear grooves into the natural flow of the world’s magic, a Below forms Underneath the city.  

Humans leave grooves in the flow of magic, but in between the grooves magic pools and stagnates. The Cities Below are the real-world representations of the stagnation. Every man-eater or dark creature you can dream of was first born in a City Below. Werewolves under Greece, Vampires under England, even more obscure creatures like the Wendigos in Canada and the Chupacabras in Puerto Rico. There are Cities Below, with their monsters and shadows and darkness, and the Cities Above filled with humans and only the darkness and evil humans can create. Casters come and Seal off the Belows. People move on with their days. Such is life.

Some may forget, though, that where there is darkness, there is light. The Below is dark and evil, but the human cities are not paragons of virtue. Humans are unpredictable and unnatural, their souls woven with threads destiny that make them immune to fate yet subject to luck. The cities are not the Above, no matter what you have heard. The Above is an entirely different matter.  

Humans leave grooves in the flow of magic, but where magic was displaced, it swirls and thrums against itself. The Cities Above are the real-world representations of the ripples. We leave our birthplaces sparingly, not driven by bloodlust or rage as the denizens of the Below, and we hide ourselves to the best of our abilities should we venture into the human’s world, but we are here, waiting. Three-headed hounds to guide lost souls to the afterlife, silver mares with pearlescent horns that heal whatever they touch, sleek finned serpents protecting swimmers from the darker residents of their lakes, and red-crested cobalt avians that told the death of whoever would inquire. The casters have no reason to Seal us off, and few have ever even realized our existence. Until now.

We are the Above of Nagatori, Kunan, and we are trapped. The Will o’ the Whisps cannot guide lost travelers, or the Yanluo lost souls. Nagatori Below has been released, and none of ours is free to walk the mortal streets to assist in the defense against the darkness.

Unless we are freed, the humans will die. They will die by the hundreds of thousands, and there is not one of us that can assist them. If the humans die, the Below will remain. It has happened before, when Quetzalcoatl fell, and it will happen again. The beings that the Jade Force has worked to eliminate are rising once more and will not be stopped by human warriors. There are no more casters in the city. Time is running out.  

[areumxmp]

That hurted

Zoomed from here with @mpxyanluo

From a stall away Areum had heard the guy say his food had gotten cold, and with the spark of an idea that he could use his hands to heat it up for him, the air headed muscle bag had tripped on the way over to the stranger. Resulting in... this.

It was laughable really, that now they were both bruised up at the festival. Luckily though, Areum had the dexterity to at the very least not drop the food he had definitely grabbed before he had fallen into the man. “Glad your lip not too busted up to eat this. Coz well.. it’s warm now dude.” The tatted demigod laughed as he held out the funnel cake that had heated from Areum’s hands. 

The ex con couldn’t even be mad when his forehead was patted right next to where he had collided since it was his fault for trying to run over and be useful for once. “Trust I won’t pass out, plus I’m kinda fuckin’ heavy ain’t nobody wanna carry me so I think I’ll have to suck it up just this once~” Playful as ever Areum favored the dramatics, pretending it was just oh so hard to get up right before a rumble of laughter was flying past his lips. Even faster a heavy hand was patting the back of the funnel cake guy a little more rough than he had planned. “I’m Areum by the way. Sorry for fat lip~”

[tokiro07]

Watcher Class Ideas

I have no idea when we’re ever going to get more info on Watcher or if it even qualifies as a class, but I think I’ve finally got a good sense of what it could be if it does

As the name implies, it seems like it could be the Heroic Spirit of Observation, or one who, to whatever end, sits, watches, and waits. The Watcher in Strange Fake is explicitly summoned for the purpose of overseeing Sigma’s trial to become a Heroic Spirit, specifically Lancer, rather than necessarily being known for a similar task in life, but logically anyone who did such acts should qualify. It does seem that this Watcher did oversee trials in life, though, as they ostensibly qualify for Gatekeeper (one who prevents passage in some way) and killed individuals from across history, implying that they administered trials to all of those individuals to determine their right to accomplish their goals and killed those who failed the trial. Therefore, anyone who is known for the administration of a trial or for evaluating one’s worth and doling out a reward or punishment should qualify as Watcher. This was often done in mythology by gods or kings, but a judge may also qualify. I considered using Khutulun, who I’ve used in the past as a Boxer class Servant, since she would challenge suitors to combat, but she may be too active in her story to necessarily fit Watcher as we know it.

If we take the canon Watcher’s qualification for Gatekeeper as an indicator, there may be overlap between the two classes, with the act of watching over and guarding something in particular qualifying one for both classes. I think the act of guarding is what specifically qualifies one for Gatekeeper, while the act of observing something’s development qualifies them for Watcher. I once listed Argus Panoptes as a Gatekeeper for his keeping of Io, but since he was effectively a jailer, he wouldn’t necessarily qualify as Watcher, at least not in that regard. Conversely, Polyphemus the Cyclops, as a shepherd, may qualify as he raises his herd, but wouldn’t necessarily count as Gatekeeper, though he did explicitly keep Odysseus and his crew from leaving his cave, so perhaps. Still, I hesitate to count Polyphemus since it’s so unclear whether he fits the known definition.

A clearer expansion would be for teachers or masters who raised and molded great individuals and heroes, as the current Watcher is literally doing just that. This may open the class to known heroes such as Chiron, Merlin, or Scathach.

If we consider Watcher in a more literal sense, it could include anyone whose abilities are explicitly vision related, so oracles may qualify and Argus may be back up for consideration. It could even potentially expand all the way out to Medusa with her petrifying gaze, but that seems like a stretch.

We could also potentially expand our definition to include hunters who watch their prey, lookouts such as on ships or lighthouses, scientists who study and make observations, police, chroniclers, spies, even stalkers, so long as their actions heavily involve keeping watch over a person, place, or thing. 

For my purposes, though, I’m only going to be looking at those who oversee trials or development, as that is the only confirmed aspect of the class if it’s even actually considered one. Appropriately, none of the Watchers I propose directly participate in Holy Grail Wars, instead either granting their Master Noble Phantasms that will allow them to fight on par with other Servants or giving them a test to earn the usage of a Noble Phantasm.

Fairy Godmother: 

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo- a spell that enchants objects and animals to turn them into Noble Phantasms or non-classed Servants, as well as enchanting their clothing to become armor able to withstand enemy Servant attacks and hide their identity. This enchantment effectively allows her Master to become a Servant class of their choosing, though this spell can only be activated after 6:00 (AM or PM) and will only remain active until the following 12:00. At this point, the effects wear off and her Master’s mana is sealed, preventing them from being tracked by enemy Servants if they escape in time. Her Master may also seal off their mana willingly to make an escape before 12:00. 

Glass Slippers- though not inherently slipper shaped, objects turned into armaments will be made of glass and act as her Master’s main Noble Phantasm. Upon the invocation of Glass Slippers’ True Name, the glass is shattered and unleashes enough energy to potentially defeat a powerful opponent, but the effects of Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo will immediately end and her Master’s mana will be sealed. However, because shards of Glass Slippers will be left behind, if the enemy is not defeated with this attack, they will potentially be able to use them to track Fairy Godmother’s mana.

Kaguya-Hime: 

Robe of the Fire Rat- grants her Master immunity to all fire or heat-based attacks while also granting resistance to Servant attacks. 

Stone Begging Bowl of the Buddha- gathers mana, but just enough to match the stats of the Servant the Master is currently facing. 

Jeweled Branch of Horai- emanates the souls that make up the atmosphere of Horai, granting the user knowledge of enemy Servants. 

Jewel of the Dragon’s Neck- allows the user to summon forth water in the shape of a dragon, serving as their main method of offense. 

Cowry of the Swallow’s Nest- allows the user to summon swallows as a form of transportation and secondary form of offense.

Elixir of Immortality- each time her Master defeats an enemy Servant, Kaguya heals their wounds, even if the wounds would have been fatal if not treated. 

Possesses the Golden Rule Skill, attracting gold and wealth to her Master. 

As she originates from the moon, Kaguya also qualifies for the Foreigner and Voyager classes. If summoned as either, she would use these Noble Phantasms herself.

The Moirai/Fates (collective Servant comprised of Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos): 

Thread of Life- while their Master fights an enemy Servant, Lachesis provides vague hints about the course of the battle that will either help them to survive an attack or manage to inflict damage on a foe. When their Master successfully performs an action that will extend their life, Clotho spins more thread for them that will change fate in their favor. When their Master successfully harms an enemy Servant, Atropos will attempt to cut the enemy’s thread to determine if the attack was fatal, which can only be overcome by a Servant’s Luck stat or Skills such as Divine Protection. Repeated damage will make the enemy more susceptible to a fatal wound.

Yanluo Wang (AKA King Enma): 

Ox-Head (Gozu) and Horse-Face (Mezu)- instead of fighting, Yanluo leaves his minions to guard his Master as non-classed Servants (though they qualify as Lancers). Ox-Head and Horse-Face fight as if they are the Master’s Servants, but can only function properly when the Master is around to see them fight. As they fight, it is the Master’s duty to discern the True Name of the enemy Servant. Once the Master has successfully done so, Ox-Head and Horse-Face automatically capture the target within a Reality Marble of Yanluo’s court, and Yanluo reviews the Servant’s legend. If the Servant was wholly good, they are freed from the Reality Marble (though Ox-Head and Horse-Face may continue to fight them), while if they committed any grievous sins, they are tortured until death within the Reality Marble. Divine Protection or similar Skills, Skills that make one resistant to torture or gain power from pain, legends that involve escape from the underworld, or sufficient strength/force of will may allow a Servant to escape on their own.

Penelope: 

Contestant Bow- Penelope bestows a bow to her Master which they must string. In the Odyssey, the bow’s draw strength is too heavy for all but Odysseus to overcome, but here, there is a trick to it that the Master must identify. If they succeed, they will be granted the bow as a Noble Phantasm that will give them the strength and cunning of Odysseus, allowing them to fight on par with other Servants. If they fail, nearby enemy Servants gain the ability to detect their presence.

[vitasmp]

Truthfully, Vitas was just a deeply introspective person...but also, yes, the infection was somewhat limiting his mental capacities; he didn't like it; it only served to frustrate him which made him more irritable which exhausted him even more. Perhaps all of this surprisingly worked in her favor, that under different circumstances he would not be so open to her even sitting next to him.

He appreciated that she abided by his wishes, that she didn't touch him when it could be so very easy for her to do so. Really, he was quite vulnerable in that moment--he was vulnerable in a lot of moments which is what prompted him to remain so fiercely guarded; but in this moment, those walls faltered and he watched her perform her magic.

This was the first time he had (knowingly) witnessed another demigod actively use their powers, let alone healing abilities. So despite his mild disorientation, he watched her, paid as close attention as he possibly could to each detail--from how her hands moved from his head to...his torso and, while his infection had spread to his blood, the chest was where it was most concentrated; it was good, honestly, that this intervention was occurring when it was, before the illness could spread much further and took full hold of an already weak heart; for now, the lower lobe of his right lung held the greatest impact as that had been where her hovering hands had paused.

He watched the glow appear between them, and felt something new with the action; warmth. Being that warm, especially within his core, was not something to which Vitas was accustomed and, much like everything else in his life, he committed that to memory. Since arriving on this island, he had already experienced a multitude of new things, new feelings and sensations, even new thought processes; this was another new and different experience. Gradually, beyond that warmth, he noticed the burning in his chest fading and...something else. Something he couldn't quite describe. Less heavy? He felt less heavy. Less of...something. Haziness? Something like that. Less burning in his chest. Less constriction with his breath. Less effort just to inhale.

When she finished, he watched her from the corner of his eye, a brief flutter of his lashes as he did recognize that he did not feel quite as rundown as he had a moment ago. Not dead, just...healthier? It was similar than how he had felt when Wang Yanluo had stayed death's shadow at his back, though not quite as intense; it still lingered, but he could recognize that his heart was not exerting itself as badly as it had a few minutes prior.

What was the most odd to him was that she did not have to do that. She was not a doctor--at least, not anymore--and he wasn't a customer at her tea stall either. She just helped him, just like that, daughter of one of the most powerful deities on the island and she just...healed him on the spot without being asked. But why? There had to be a reason why she did it. People don't just go around doing nice things like that unless they wanted something in return--especially if it was so taxing as it seemed to be for this woman who wiped the sweat from her own brow.

But he had to acknowledge that, yes, he did feel better--and he had agreed to this healing, so he did owe her. That would be fair, wouldn't it? "Yes," he finally answered her question, reaching into his inner pocket to retrieve his personal handkerchief--black microfiber cloth embroidered with white thread--and offered the folded fabric to her. It was clean, and it certainly smelled clean just like the rest of him.

"Thank you." The words were spoken quietly, words he had uttered less times in his life than he had fingers, though she had no way of knowing this. For someone as honest as Vitas, he believed that he should only express gratitude if he genuinely felt it. If she did not accept the handkerchief to wipe her brow, then he would simply return it to his pocket; but if she did accept it, then he would let it pass to her and opt to remove his mask instead, folding it as his now unobstructed face could breath in clean, unfiltered air to fill his lungs without pain.

The male seemed lost in thought from her response. She was not sure whether that was just who he was as a person or if the symptoms of his infections were impacting his ability to reason. Davina realized that some people on the island were highly defensive. She saw it often when stepped in to heal people at the hospital. It was a reason she had left it. Customer service in that field had been a struggle for her. To provide care that left her exhausted for people who did not necessarily responded kindly afterward, she had left that for good.

While she was overly trusting, she could not see why he hesitated so much. Davina watched him closely. Concern still remained on her face, and it was genuine. Yet, she had a moment to take in his features. It hurt her that someone could be going through what he did right now, and her hands itched to heal him. So, when he finally spoke, that look of concern was replaced with her typical bright and beaming smile. "Don't worry, sir. I am an expert. I promise!"

And so, she scooted a bit closer, still not touching him. Concentrating, Davina's focus moved from her thoughts to his body. Her hands reached out to hover over his body just inches from him, floating down from his head to the localization of the infection. Finally settling on the location, her hands wafted around to infection, and as she finally manifested her power, a glow of gold light radiated through the space between them and took the cleansing him of the infection of the body. For Vitas, it should come as a relief, a warming sensation that sent relief through the body. A rather strong infection, it took several minutes for her to be able to cleanse it from him. Yet, she did not move from her spot, completely dedicated to him and his health in those minutes.

As she neared the end, her own color started to recede, and she knew that she had expended a bit too much energy into this. However, once finished, Davina felt her own relief at this situation. Reaching up, she dabbed a few beads of sweat from her brow. Healing, even if her powers, was hard work for her, especially as her infection healing power was something she had only started using in the last two years. Once finally capturing her own breath, she peered back over to him. "Are you okay? Do you feel better?"

[mpxkiki]

Thread Log || Kiki 12/21/2023

A collective of threads on this muse. For clarity on why things were dropped or listed in any particular way, please DM the typist! Recall, dropped threads are not personal.

From Hell with Love (My Turn):

*None. Muse is up to date.

Awaiting (Your Turn): * Love in Hot Cup - Mai * My Darkness Sees Yours - Erik * Showtime! - Yanluo * Butterfly pt.2 - Yura

Dropped (due to muse departure, time out on either side, etc.): - Butterfly pt.1 (Yura) - Watercolor Misfortunes (Noel) - Confused, Truth is What I Choose (Areum) - Model Friendship (Kaz) - Mesmerizing Smile (Yohan) - Wasting Time (Maxim)

Completed: + Promise of Frienship (Athena) Pending Ideas:

~ Open starters!

If you have questions or need clarification on any above threads please message me! This muse is available to take on more threads!

[exmptohilx]

It was happening for just some hot moments, but Tohil had already believed that this would be added to his favourite leisure pursuits. Barging into the residence of a stranger who had learned about his past, turning their couch into his throne, and scritching the two lovely dogs’ heads while gracefully ignoring their owner’s presence in the room. Very entertaining, wasn’t it?

The fact that the two giant puppies just went straight to claim seats on both sides and happily accepted his affectionate touches spoke volumes. Tohil, as the god of a destructive natural force, didn’t have a good reputation in the animal kingdom, including some of the mystical creatures. To see someone’s pets being this welcoming to him meant the connection between him and their owner was, at least, not as hostile as Yanlou’s words tried to be. 

“Well, you should have learned well by now that I can be anything but a respectful being.” There was no venom in his response, while the mischievous smirk flashed at Yanluo as an indication of his inherent defiance. Quite a lot had changed, but not even death could affect Tohil’s untameable core. 

He paused fondling the dogs just to give Yanluo Wang a little more attention, his eyes quickly scanned the god of death just like what he would do to a house on fire. Proper stance, razor-sharp features, neatly organized hair, and stoic facial expressions that could be intimidating to some but definitely not sufficient to humble his daredevil spirit. Keeping his head held high and his gleaming eyes locked with Yanlou Wang’s dark orbs, Tohil leant back on the couch, verbalizing his initial guess. 

“Since you’ve acted like I’ve got on your nerves on a daily basis, it’s safe to say that you’ve known the past me quite well.” That was also an indirect confirmation to the Chinese god of death that, yes, despite the very similar vessel, the Tohil he was talking to now had perfectly zero memory of who both of them used to be. 

“Do tell me, Mr I’m-too-cool-for-you,” Tohil leaned forwards to place some sticky notes Yanlou had left at his door on the coffee table, his stare was a dance of mischief and seriousness, “were you in love with me?”

(un)invited.

mptohilx​:

[…] Tohil only hoped that the door-opening sound would not startle the other god if he was at home. It was around ten something in the evening, so unless the other god had been running an active nightlife, then he should be around to hear his name called by an uninvited guest, who had just settled himself on the turquoise-blue couch in the middle of the living area. 

“Mr Yanluo Wang, hello! You’ve got a guest!”

It’s telling that when the opening and closing of his front door, followed by a painfully familiar voice, feels normal to the god of death, then someone has left quite the impression on him. His dogs’ massive heads perk up from his lap. One minute they’re there, the next he can hear them bounding into the living room.

Yanluo takes far more time, using this unexpected  but always expected guest to take a break from his post-work duties. It would seem he is unenthusiastic—he gets in honestly—but the look on the god’s face when he descends the stairs to see Tohil on his sofa is pleasing. Sort of like the satisfaction one gets baiting a big fish from a small pond. The dogs are much more showy in their affections though, climbing the sofa on either side of Tohil respectively.

“Traitors,” Yanluo says, but he isn’t actually wounded. It’s a familiar sight, if only disturbed by the glaring fact that Tohil has not popped up for some time. And that there’s a difference in that burning aura of his. Like a new flame, but no less dull. 

Yanluo shakes his head, arms folded in scrutiny. “I honestly do not understand why you of all people represent public safety. Will you ever learn how to knock? Or ring a doorbell? Like a respectful being?”

[mpxayden]

[...] “Coffee is naturally bitter. We add sugar to sweeten it, to make it more palatable. Or cream and syrups until you can barely tell it’s coffee anymore. I don’t care what fancy name you call it, it’s still just coffee with sugar.”

“It’s modified for others, but what benefit does that serve for itself?” Yanluo slides the mug aside, the vortex within going still. “What good is it, being good, if beneath you’re still bitter beneath it all, still unchanged?”

He folds one leg over another as words flow from his mouth. Spoken with monotone inflection because he isn’t trying to coax this way or that. Like a literature teacher, he’d rather see how they’re interpreted by the demigod.

“Not even people completely change. They only become more fully what they are meant to be. Like the coffee is to be consumed. The only difference between you and that mug, is the power of autonomy. So why are you insecure over something as arbitrary as good?”

TW: serious talk (?), idek, just some heavy vibe going there

“Like what you’ve just said. Coffee is naturally bitter, and barely no one will take coffee as coffee is. They modify it, sweeten it up to the point of cloying, to each their own.” 

Ayden’s gaze pinned at the mug, as if he could see the black content if he stared at the solid material long enough. Most of the times, you couldn’t get what you wanted just by your colorful imagination. 

“The benefit for itself is acceptance, you see. Coffee has remained at the top since the first time it hit there, thanks to all the modifications and adjustments people put into it. They love coffee, not because coffee tastes like coffee, but because coffee tastes the way they want it to be. Everything boils down to selfishness, don’t you think?”

His eyes followed the mug to where it was placed, and for the first time in the section, Ayden put his hands on the table. He leaned forwards, one of his index fingers pointed at the mug, as his eyes shifted their focus to the god’s features. The demigod smiled, humorlessly. His voice lowered, rumbling from his chest, waves of boiling anger. 

“Would you drink that coffee point blank without adding six sugar sticks? I doubt that. By adding stuff into it, you change its core. You help it changes, shape it into something that please your taste buds. What’s the point of being good? To be accepted. If you aren’t accepted by at least someone or something, you become nothing. I don’t want to be nothing, so that’s why I do care, I have to care, to be good. Good can be arbitrary to you, your almighty god of death, but that’s everything I want to be..”    

[seonghwaxmp]

tau-mp​:

Grande Cup of Apathy, Please

Starter thread with @seonghwaxmp

The mindless chatter all around the tall Blonde was perfect for reading in his opinion. It was something like white noise to him so coming to the coffee shop was always a nice little adventure.

Today, he had decided on a new book he had planned to finish in the time it took him to drink his coffee, so of course he was already nose deep into it before he had even sat down. Being used to reading at almost all times, Tau was so agile weaving through the crowd to get to a set, only managing to barely bump someone’s shoulder with his own. For only a brief moment Tau looked up, barely offering what looked like it was meant to be a smile. “My apologies.” That was all he gave to the man who was.. actually pretty striking, before he sat down and was right back where he was a moment ago.

Nose deep into a book about Chemical engineering. Which was his topic of interest for the day apparently.

Seonghwa was agitated. Not that one would ever know from his outward appearance. His sister might have been the only one who could have sensed the way his thoughts were twisting and turning. Yes, he was quite annoyed with the state of his affairs at the moment, and an ill mood made for a particularly vicious man.

So when he's bumped into while waiting for his order- standing still even as his eyes sift through the milling crowd -his thoughts scatter and a grimace tugs pretty lips... just a moment after the strange turns back away and surely misses it.

-and the stranger. Seonghwa traces his movements all the way back to his seat, eyes dark as they recall the split second glimpse of his face. Sad eyes. Full lips. His "My apologies," on loop. Such a handsome man with such bad luck.

Stepping up to get his coffee and ply the sweet girl at the counter to snatch him an extra pastry- a muffin sprinkled with toasted sugar and smelling of cinnamon; it looks disgusting to him -for the price of a few loose dollars and a well practiced smile, Seong turns and follows that stranger right to his table with a gentle clearing of his throat.

The son of Yanluo Wang knows just how soulful and honest his eyes can be. He knows he's looking at the other man like that as he places the muffin on the table and scoots it forward, sharp teeth digging into a plump lower lip as he feigns embarrassment." 

"Hey, I just wanted to apologize for that... I didn't even realize I would be in your way. I'm a little out of it today... and I was a little distracted because you're- ah, I was just hoping maybe you liked these. They're my favorite."

[kazxmp]

Kaz had been more than pleased by the time they had parted after he showed the mural. Yanluo was point blank and that was something Kaz liked. The God had expressed his appreciation for the artists talent with such eloquence and Kaz only took that expression and used it with every brush stroke put onto the three canvas' he was getting ready for Yanluo. It Probably wouldn't have taken him so long if he had only created one mock up, but he had realized very quickly that he was fond of three different sets of color schemes. In paintings like this it is of grave importance that the colors are not taking over the art piece but simply accentuating it, especially in a piece meant to be so divine. Adding all three colors would have been atrocious to the eyes especially if Yanluo's place is as he imagines it to be. He does not want this piece to stick out like a sore thumb even in it's beauty, he wants it to flow as if it had always been meant to be there. As if the house had been brought up with this beauty in mind. He had offered all three options up to the God when he was graced to see him again at the end of the week. One that held it's accents in red's and light oranges, scraped brush strokes creating the hazy mountain tops, tree's and red grass stippled throughout. The second had a similar brush stroke but this time the mountains held blue, the tree's around being the darkest parts of it, allowing for delicate single linework homes hidden throughout. The last, had a different approach with the primary landscape being comprised of watercolor greys and blacks, with ever so soft pink blossoms decorating the hillsides. Now, he stood at the door of his new client, a black tiered bag that was covered in sewn on patches, different colors of paint peppers the outside just showing how much he really uses this art bag. He knocks twice-hard. It's cold as shit he isn't knocking lightly. Though when he gets to greet the God, it is with a devilish smile. He was already excited to let Yanluo see him work. More than excited. It had been a while since he had gotten to do a piece in someone's home where he gets the thrill of the client watching his every stroke whenever they want.

How to Trust a Goth With Your Bathroom in 21 Days

Continued from here for the appreciation of artistic talent and beauty, both traditional and modern alike; for @mpyanluo

Throughout his life Kaz felt like he had seen at least a little bit of everything, so when Yanluo had first walked into the doors of Marimo Ink, dressed in the glory that was his traditional attire, Kaz wasn't phased in the slightest. Instead it had done exactly as intended and somewhat prepared Kaz for not only the interaction but for what the God might have been wanting. Of course, Kaz could have looked at that attire and drawn something similar but it was important to the goth that his clients or soon to be clients, understood that his style has no bounds. Kaz showed that in many more ways by inviting Yanluo here even though he knew the God wasn't looking for a tattoo. All around the shop is versions of his art and not just in the traditional tattoo sense. Other than his portfolio, there's moss creations on the walls, spray painted accent walls, and potted plants that Kaz made all the pots for. Every part of this Shop that he lovingly calls his own, has his art in it. Though the moment Yanluo started speaking of his desires in that smooth tone he has, Kaz knew just what to show him. "If you're up for a walk, I can show you one that's not far." Without even waiting for the proper response though he is already up and grabbing his cigs and his coat from the chair. The goth can not always be a man of many words but he was more than excited for a piece like this. He loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooves a mural. And more than that he loves a bathroom mural. Because- "You know, bathrooms are the most under thought of rooms in public places. Sure sometimes people keep the shit clean but it isn't always about just that. it's about going into a place and every inch of it looks and feels like the rest. AND Seeing beauty in a place society has deemed so unnatural and disgusting only ends up bringing peace to the disturbed. And that's my favorite kind of art." Well, a man of many words when he's passionate he guesses. As he leads the way down the block to a more secluded area, on the side of a building where no one rents, he keeps speaking. "All of that to say, I'd love to do the piece. And if you like what I'm about to show you, I'd be more than happy to do it, and am confident it's well within my skillset." He says so very confidently because he knows just how to get that exact brush method onto walls that are normally unfit to do so. As his brain already flips through ideas as if the ripples in the flesh up there are pages of a catalog, he rounds a corner, popping a cig in his mouth and backing up only to let the wall in front of them do the talking. A few months into being here on the island, Kaz had asked one of the building owners if he could paint the outside of this unused one. He had so much muse at the time because for once he was starting to feel comfortable somewhere. For once, the landscape in front of him looked promising. So on the wall, the edges of it are painted as if it's see through, and at the right angle the building starts to disappear until it is nothing but the false landscape of the building. From the center of it, instead of looking like behind the building truly would, it opens up to a scape of city buildings with flowers growing out of windows and cracks in the brick; a blue sky with sun rays that wash over the whole painting so surreal like it's almost criminal that it's too cold out to feel it. The entire thing took him ages. But the amount of detail in it is insane, and says wonders to his ability to do things he has and hasn't done before. Puffing on his cigarette he watches the ethereal God take in his work. "I can create a mock up for the specific style you want in a few days and you can make your decision then if you are still unsure."

[exmptohilx]

A starter for the charming @mpxyanluo

‘you usually eat up my leftovers. keep that same energy.’

Tohil had reread those lines enough times to be able to recite them with passionate distaste. Whoever thought leaving that jaundice sticky note, along with a couple of suspiciously cool dishes at the Mayan god of fire’s front door was a comical act, then that person was…right. 

It was hilarious, to say the least, so much so that instead of being left fuming by such blasphemy, Tohil assigned himself the task of finding out the funny offender’s identity. 

Since summer days were long and nights were short, Tohil got way more energy and enthusiasm than needed to get the job done in record time. The name he collected from a reliable source led Tohil to the god level of the Yaoguai Apartments. The Mayan god, as a civilized resident-wannabe of Mount Phoenix, would not let himself barge right into apartment number 01 without a few minutes of rumination. 

But because he was Tohil, and since summer never waited for anyone, he decided to skip those few minutes of rumination.

Opening a closed door shall not cause many difficulties, if at all, to a fire god who happened to also be a fast-track trained fire chief. Besides, since the owner of this earthy, woody apartment had greeted him with such a charming, courteous gesture, it was only reasonable if he reciprocated with something equal. 

Tohil only hoped that the door-opening sound would not startle the other god if he was at home. It was around ten something in the evening, so unless the other god had been running an active nightlife, then he should be around to hear his name called by an uninvited guest, who had just settled himself on the turquoise-blue couch in the middle of the living area. 

“Mr Yanluo Wang, hello! You’ve got a guest!”

(un)invited

[ with Yanluo ]

[areumxmp]

The gentle tone Yanluo returned to Areum with, and the way his hands brave the ex con's scalding skin, is the only thing tethering the only capable part of his mind to trusting the God of death. Even as the silent voice he knows too well pierces into his skull, stabbing the fleshy parts of his memories and cognate abilities with each word. Trying it's best to confuse him, to keep him from allowing Yanluo to truly help him. To get him home. As sad as it is, the fear he felt from the slap previously was what kept him most docile. The way Yanluo seemed to cradle his face was simply the blanket that kept him from completely crumbling into himself, right here in the grass. Right here in front of this God who is trying so hard to help him and- Inhale. Exhale. Areum opens his glossy eyes, the smell of burnt flesh finally hitting his sense's. Which is nostalgic as well as shocking. The bulking, shaking, man couldn't remember the last time he could even notice that scent. It used to fill his nose so much that it smelt of nothing anymore. If someone had started burning next to him, likely he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't hear it. But now... the smell fills his nose like it had the first time and then those big round eyes that were still trained on the God's, glossed over with a sheen of emptiness yet again as he falls into his brain. (TW: Death, ptsd, manipulation)

~”You know what to do, Bull. You have to do this for us, you know that. Otherwise they will hunt us down one by one. Taking away your only family and where would you go?” His ‘brother’s’ voice is paired with hands that sit heavy on his 13 year old shoulders. Not yet developed and without the power they’ve learned to harness from Areum, would crumple under too much pressure. The poor boy only needed a few more words to manipulate his brain into thinking what he was doing was for the better. A few words and a shove in the right direction. “They’re the same breed as that bitch of a mother you had. You can’t let them hurt anyone like she hurt you right? You have to do this.” They had always used the right words to toy with the young ‘bull’s’ mind, pushing him to do their dirty work, all while convincing him they were helping people. They were not. They were not helping anyone but themselves when they had Areum scorch his way through the tattered house on the outskirts of town. Pushing flames through the broken glass windows until the screams were mixing dreadfully with the crackling of flames. Only when he boldly walked the hot embers of rubble did that nauseatingly sweet smell fill his nostrils. It felt like it seeped down into his mouth; coating all his taste buds, only to drip down his throat and coat the inside of his stomach in bile. The bile rose up his throat as he looked at the now… faceless bodies. Two women, in their equally as charred bed. The smell even burnt at his eyes but he couldn’t stop looking at what he had done. What little they had in this small house.. What little he had taken from them. Yet it had been absolutely everything to them. Not even his ‘brother’s’ heavy hands ripping him from what was left of the burning house kept the rising bile from feeling like he was being eviscerated. Later that evening, his doubts of the women’s harmfulness had escaped from those lips as well. Only to have been beaten back out of him until only spit and blood poured from now shattered lips. He was awarded the family ring the next day for ‘saving’ his family, proving his loyalty, but that smell still stung his eyes and throat.~ The God’s words were cloudy but they pushed past the dam’s of Areum’s flashback, carefully picking him right back out of it. Twice he blinks for his eyes to have color returning, his mouth working to form words while his throat contracts to hold down the taste of vomit he thinks he still feels. “A-Areum..” His words are just as shaky as the hand that fumbles to fish his keys out. His movements were delayed almost and it almost looked as if he forgot what he had been doing before his scalding hand held out his keys. A little Sanrio wrist strap lanyard connected to an O ring with a teenie tiny print out of his boyfriend, Bes with floral washi tape around the edges, and a key to the Huay Chivo apartments. “Door t-two?” The hulking man was still coming to, and as he did, his heat calmed down at least a few degrees. This man would help him. He needed to believe it. He will trust him.

Areum was on the verge of completely combusting, having not had an accident without his meds in so long it would have broken him to have hurt anybody or anything; because there is a piece of him that is always still in there that knows what he sees is wrong. That the emotions he's feeling are from another time. But everything else is just too fucking strong and the as his world had almost crumbled to the last morsel- SLAP.

Seemingly everything in the son of Tohil stopped. The bulking body that still felt too many degrees too hot could be mistaken for not breathing if Yanluo wasn't currently feeling his pulse through his hands. Even his eyes that weren't quite as hollow anymore were instead opened round and unwavering. In a way, the choice Yanluo made had been good for Areum. It brought him back to where he was, truly seeing the man that was in front of him for the God he was rather than the ghosts that haunt the backs of his eyelids. In other ways though, it had pushed Areum right into the idea that if he didn't do what Yanluo said, there would be consequences. Just like before. Especially with the way the God's voice ripped through the air at the passerby's, causing the hulking man to flinch. So just like when he was young, that slap had allowed the silver tongue living withing his mind to break free. To curl around the recess' of each idea and thought. Preying into the mind of a fearful child. A malleable child. One that doesn't want to hurt anyone but can be promised of the torment that will happen if he doesn't end it before it starts. He hears those words hiss through him, doing their best to try and drown out the voice of the God before him. A few tears fall from the corners of his eyes. Sizzling up on his skin the salty things don't stand a chance as he has to force himself to nod. He knows he needs his meds. He knows he needs help. He wants to trust this Wang Yanluo but he's so fucking terrified. "Okay." The word is barely above a whisper, offered up as if the word itself were his hands guarding his face from impact.