#and that was when purity reached out offering to work with them on the project

[arolesbianism]

Working more on the local group of Synchronized Light and hoo boy. There's smth wrong with these guys.

[heartmaddie]

charm | t.oikawa - 09 echo

by m454d1e

tooru leans his elbows against the cold marble of the island bench as he stares deeply at her, watching intently as she carefully measures out the perfect amount of flour. it’s serene, the way they work together in silence as some classical music he’s never heard of before ripples through the air. 

“come help me with this.” she hums, warm eyes flick up to him and tooru can’t help but melt into the chair a little bit.

“okay.” he stands up, sliding his arm against her waist while towering over her from behind, “what do you need me to do?” he asks curiously, looking at her from the side as his fingers squeezed the skin of her hip before pulling away. 

“can you preheat the oven? also grab the second bowl for the wet ingredients please” she offers him a small smile, gesturing to where the bowls were located as he complies silently. yn admires him in secret when he doesn’t realise, her eyes raking over his figure as he’d move around the kitchen.

oikawa places the bowl on the island bench, pulling her into his arms tightly as he nuzzles his nose against her neck. yn hesitantly wraps her arms around his neck, and he takes it as an invitation to melt into her arms, soaking up the saffron and amberwood like aroma which was adorned upon her neck. 

tooru was naturally a touchy person, always eager to squeeze skin between his lean fingers, or tangle them in someone’s hair whilst they’d lie on his chest. and while yn had experienced teenaged love before, there was this purity which oikawa radiated through everything action he’d take, the way his fingertips danced around her lower back felt more innocent rather than with blemished desire, and she’d never felt that sort of romance before. there was something inside her which selfishly yearned for more.

she opens her mouth to speak, to look up into his chocolate brown eyes and tell him what she wanted, but something forced her to shut her mouth tight. a familiar wave of emotions wash over her and left her stranded, because no matter how much she desired to let someone in, he would lurk right behind and pull her back. 

“what’re you thinking about?” oikawa asks curiously, gazing down at her with a soft expression as he cards his fingers through her hair, “you really serious.” he smiles languidly, poking her nose.

he breaks her out of her trance, and she mirrors his smile,

“nothing, just a bit tired.” she lies, internally hating how it comes to her like pen on paper.

“okay. um, where’s your bathroom?” he asks, an awkward smile plastered on his face as he scratches his neck. then letting her lead him by the hand to the small tiled bathroom, stacked with various skincare products belonging to yn and her roommates.

in the privacy of the boxed room, tooru whips out his phone and eagerly starts messaging iwaizumi, leaving yn to herself and her thoughts.

tooru slides his arms around her waist and gently presses the side of his lips onto her temple, because for now, that’s as far as they could go, and to him, that would be more than enough. 

“ready to bake?” he asks, pulling away slightly to look down at her face, smirking when she nods eagerly.

“yep, i’m ready.” she wiggles out of his grasp and finds the previously lined parchment paper, and yn watches as tooru tediously aligns each cookie perfectly, each lump of dough averaging to about the same size. it’s a quiet, intimate moment, and yn can't help but reach for the small digital camera that she left on the island bench weeks prior. snapping a small photo of tooru, with the intention of keeping this memory close to her blossoming heart. 

once the cookies are cooked and placed on a wire rack to cool down, they spend the next couple minutes meticulously cleaning the kitchen together. 

“wanna work on the project?” oikawa asks, wiping his index finger against the marble counter to check that it was fully clean, yn raises her eyebrow with an indecorous expression, 

“you’re joking.”

“yeah, duh.” oikawa giggles in response, “let’s go to your room or something”

she nods, letting him drag her away from the kitchen.

tooru gently places her on the bed, before crawling up right next to her, laying his head between the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent completely.

“you always smell good.” he sighs, voice slightly muffled from her skin pressed up against his mouth.

“it’s baccarat rouge 540”

“of course it is” he mutters, pulling her in impossibly closer. 

“you’re gonna take some of the cookies home, right? we made double than usual and i don’t think osamu will eat many.” she hums, thinking out loud as tooru soaked up any words spewing from her mouth, he’d do anything to hear her talk for just a moment longer.

“yeah i will, tobio mentioned that the cookies are nice and he wanted me to bring him some.” oikawa replies, “where’d you find the recipe?”

“just somewhere online and kiyoko and i tweaked it a bit, keiji and kei are picker eaters.” she tries to wiggle away from his tight grasp, “ugh, you’re so heavy.”

tooru whines but eventually shifts his position to make her more comfortable, embracing her from behind as he’d carefully rest his head on her shoulder, ensuring that she was comfortable. he gently traces patterns against the soft skin of her palm, endless sketches of hearts and stars unseen to the naked eye.

“hey yn.” he murmurs quietly, a centimetre away from the current proximity would cause one to miss his words, “you should let me take you on a real date.”

prev | masterlist | next

please make sure to like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed!

౨ৎ she mentions semi in this btw if u didn't get who the 'he' guy was

౨ৎ samu and yn are friends again - he is an expert at irl cuddles and comfort but he can't do it online, he struggles to explain what he means

౨ৎ yn is a good baker too - this is the cookie recipe

౨ৎ it's reworded from recipetineats cos my mom really likes that blogger

౨ৎ i need to write more angst for itl , it might have some more mature themes which idk

౨ৎ charm coming to an end breaks my heart, but i'm so eternally grateful for all the people who've come by through it

taglist : @meosq , @jtaimeurmom , @strawbeariesei , @meeeepsworld , @cupidsblonde , @matchagirliris ,@phoenix-eclipses if you'd like to join - don't be afraid to ask

[reelreviewing]

Yi Yi (2000) - Editors Pick

Director: Edward Yang | 2h 53mins | Drama | Language: Mandarin

Multiple generations of a Taipei family reflect on past mistakes and the present relationships of their daily lives. 

Edward Yang’s modern masterpiece is over 20 years old. Many films have come and gone in that time but what separates Yi Yi and keeps it continuously relevant in the cinematic landscape, is the purity and honesty in which it portrays humanity. Just like the work of legendary director Yashiro Ozu, Yang’s static and absorbing style allows every human emotion to play out on the surface. Across the wide span of its nearly three hour runtime, Yi Yi explores the lost potential of our lives we reflect on as we get older as well as the blossoming feelings and fractured situations we face in our youth. 

In one of the more confrontational scenes early in the film, the father of the family NJ runs into his first love, Sherry, while at his brother-in-law’s wedding. After a couple of seconds of pleasantries she begins yelling at him about their past and what follows is a long and reflective journey for NJ, as he reconnects and ponders the question, what if I’d married her? Although not necessarily the main character, NJ’s story is explored more than any, acting as the anchor for the gentle nostalgia and regret this film projects. His situation is amplified when his current wife, Min-Min, delivers one of the most heartbreaking monologues of the film, explaining that she has nothing to say to her comatose mother because her life is, in essence, blank. 

While the parents suffer with their own damaging reflections on life their two children also battle against the hardships of youth. Their daughter, Ting-Ting, becomes embroiled in her friend’s drama more than she would like and also experiences love and heartbreak for the first time. Yang-Yang, their 8-year-old son, isn’t plagued by the realities of being a teenager or an adult but rather navigates his own adolescent curiosity. He has a mild crush on a girl at school, he deals with bullies in creative ways and he also becomes fascinated with taking pictures of the back of people’s heads – something that actually plays a big part in one of the films biggest themes.

As he gets into his dad’s car Ying-Yang innocently asks his father whether it’s possible for us to know the whole truth. As we look forward we can’t see behind us, and therefore we can’t see the whole picture. A slightly muddled sentiment when coming from a child but there is a deeper truth to it that unites wonderfully with the film’s big questions of remembering the past and how it has led to the current position these characters are in. Not just that, but as we look forward in our lives the memories we have become obscured and muddled – remembering only what we want too. We even get a flavour of the lives of neighbours and extended family, and while these are at risk of feeling unessential, what they do is help to punctuate the overarching themes as they are all delicately woven together by a wonderful script.  

Your first initial praise will be for the static and often dreamlike cinematography that effortlessly captures both beauty and pain in their most destructive forms. But Yang’s script is much more complex than you might think. Balancing narratives is something that many films have tried to accomplish but rarely perfect, but what Yang does is give us multiple threads and characters in which to intrigue us with, but beautifully showcases them under one collective story. It’s a balancing act that pays off, as they all reach their crescendo at the same pivotal point – giving us a soft and extremely moving ending. 

Despite all of the characters being at an unhappy place in their lives, this does end on a somewhat optimistic note. Unlike a lot of the work by fellow Taiwanese director Tsai Ming-Liang, whose films are often drenched in a pessimistic tone, Yi Yi  offers us a sense of reprieve. This is by no means a happy ending, but as some of the characters choose to look forward instead of hanging on to the past, the film shows a sense of positivity that is greatly needed.

Even though the film is over 20 years old this film hasn’t lost any of its poignancy. Edward Yang is truly a master of his craft and Yi Yi will continue to have a place in cinematic history because of its unique understanding of relationships and the human condition. No matter what stage of life you’re at there will be something to connect to or reflect on and that’s because of its universal themes. The script is complex and packs a punch, and Yang offers a delicate touch to every single scene – this is a wonderful achievement that is one of the greatest examples of how cinema can so honestly portray reality.

5/5

[home-on-the-wastes]

Hair Care (1/2)

Harper and Butch meet up post-Project Purity. Part 1 // 2

Harper’s hair was gone. Not entirely, there were still patches left hanging like orange leeches fixed to her scalp, but most of it had fallen out due to the radiation poisoning. She looked defeated, wrapped in a tattered blanket and a hospital gown. 

Charon passed Butch at the door, off to find her some food.

“Don’t mention the hair,” he growled, “and don’t fuck this up.”

Butch scoffed and rolled his eyes, but as he hesitantly approached Harper, he couldn’t stop staring. All that hair, so meticulously kept, curled, brushed, and dyed lovingly, was just gone. Probably swept up into a trash bin somewhere. 

Harper was a bit woozy, but when she saw Butch, her eyebrows–still mostly intact, nothing a bit of pencil couldn’t fix–raised in surprise. The IV they had her hooked up to was definitely feeding her Med-x, and Radaway, because instead of that careful, small smile she usually wore, Harper grinned, slow and dopey. “Butch?”

“Hi.” He had a lot of things he wanted to say, but now he couldn’t remember a damn thing. “Hi, Harp.”

“You going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to sit?” Harper patted the hospital bed. Her speech was a bit slurred, too, but the more she spoke, the more she sounded like herself. “C’mon, I’m not that big.”

Butch begged to differ. He swore he was never going to forgive her for growing two inches taller than him, but that crap seemed like a moot point, now. Butch gingerly settled on the hospital bed beside her. Harper tucked her legs against her chest, using the wall for support. Butch frowned, and asked, “You want me to like…put the back up, or–”

“I’m fine,” Harper replied. She didn’t look fine. She still had that waxy, sickly look people got when they didn’t feel well. Between her half-dead stare from the medication, and that she just looked so fragile sitting next to him, Butch panicked. Butch tried to stare everywhere but her mostly bald head, but his eyes drifted back to it. Harper wouldn’t notice, probably.

She noticed immediately.  “What?”

“Nothing,” Butch said, but he was a lousy liar, and Harper knew it. “It’s–it’s nothing. Just glad you’re okay.”

Harper slowly nodded, like she was underwater. Her head must have felt really foggy. “Didn’t expect you to come visit me, honestly. How’d you hear?”

“Dr. Li. When she came back, everyone was asking questions, and I thought…well, I thought you’d be with her. Then she told me what happened.” Butch leaned back against the wall like Harper, staring at the busted ceiling tiles. He wondered if he could count them.. “Came as soon as I could.”

“Rothchild said I was out for two weeks.” Harper absently scratched at her cheek, the noise drawing Butch’s eye away from the fifth ceiling tile. Her nails had gotten longer. Maybe he could offer to paint them or something. Butch had been thinking about possibly branching out of hairdressing into all beauty products. Maybe sell her some polish he’d been working on. She winced, her skin still feeling raw, and stopped scratching. “Is Dr. Li okay?”

“Seemed like it,” Butch replied. He didn’t really ask much after her after he had heard about Harper. “Said something about heading north, maybe, I dunno.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s all right, at least.” She reached up, and before Butch could stop her, Harper went to tuck some hair behind her ear. Her fingers just brushed at the scalp, and her eyes widened.

“Harp–” Butch began, but it didn’t matter. Harper burst into tears.

Next >>

[svaorganicsblog]

The Benefits of Buying Organic Essential Oils from Bulk Exporters

Organic essential oils have been more popular in recent years. This is because more individuals are becoming aware of alternative health treatments and choosing non-chemical products. Getting essential oils in bulk from exporters can be very helpful for businesses that want to make natural wellness products, and health brands that want to add essential oils to their products. Not only do you get pure, high-quality oils, but you also save money and get other benefits that can help your business. It's a good idea to buy clean essential oils in bulk from these companies.

1. Cost-Effective Pricing

Saving money is one of the best reasons to buy organic essential oils in bulk from sellers. The price per bit of oil is much cheaper when you buy in bulk than when you buy in small amounts. The world market for essential oils is projected to reach $16.2 billion by 2027, according to a study by Grand View Research. To stay competitive, more and more companies are choosing to buy in bulk. Cutting out the middlemen and getting straight from sellers is the best way to get the best prices.

2. Consistency in Quality

When it comes to essential oils, quality is very important. Reliable bulk exporters keep strict quality control measures in place to make sure their goods meet high standards. Most of the time, these companies work directly with farmers and makers, which lets them keep an eye on the whole process. This makes sure that the essential oils are always pure, strong, and free of chemicals that are bad for you. Businesses that depend on the effectiveness of organic essential oils need to make sure that the quality of their products stays consistent.

3. Access to a Wide Range of Oils

Exporters who buy in bulk usually have a wide range of organic essential oils from all over the world. You can get a lot of different oils from bulk importers, like peppermint oil from India, eucalyptus oil from Australia, or lavender oil from the mountains of France. With this much choice, you can make unique product formulas that meet your customers' special wants. Working with a single supplier for all of your essential oil needs also makes your supply chain easier, which saves you time and effort.

4. Sustainability and Ethical Practices

Sustainable and moral business practices are important to a lot of companies that ship large amounts of organic essential oils. A lot of the time, these importers work with small farmers who do organic farming. Organic farming is better for the earth and makes better oils. The Organic Trade Association says that organic farming methods are better for the environment because they improve soil health, save water, and lower waste. By working with a bulk distributor that cares about the environment, you're not only helping the environment, but you're also showing that your business has morals that today's customers will appreciate.

5. Reliable Supply and Timely Deliveries

Bulk shippers have the skills and experience to manage large shipments and ensure they arrive on schedule. They understand how critical it is for organizations to have a dependable supply chain, particularly while following a regular work schedule.

You can be sure of a steady supply of organic essential oils when you work with a bulk supplier, even during times of high demand. This dependability is very important to keep your goods in stock and make sure that your customers can always get them.

Conclusion

Purchasing organic essential oils in quantity from sellers offers many benefits, including financial savings, consistent quality, additional options, and support for sustainability. Companies seeking the finest essential oils for their products should deal with a reliable bulk provider. This will enable them to create happy consumers and provide superior products.

If you want to buy high-quality organic essential oils in bulk, SVA is a top company that is known for its dedication to purity, sustainability, and customer happiness. Check out their huge selection of approved organic essential oils and learn why working with a reliable provider is important.

[brasscopper]

Shaping Excellence: Exploring the World of Copper Flat Bar Suppliers

In the world of metal fabrication and construction, copper flat bars play a crucial role in various applications, from electrical wiring to architectural accents. As a versatile and highly conductive material, copper offers a multitude of benefits, making it a preferred choice for many industries. However, finding reliable copper flat bar suppliers can be a daunting task. In this blog post, we'll delve into the importance of copper flat bars, the qualities to look for in suppliers, and where to find reputable sources for your copper needs.

The Significance of Copper Flat Bars

Copper flat bars are essential components in a wide range of industries due to their unique properties and versatility. As one of the most conductive metals available, copper is widely used in electrical applications, including wiring, circuit boards, and electrical contacts. Additionally, copper flat bars are valued for their corrosion resistance, making them ideal for use in marine environments and outdoor structures. In architectural design, copper flat bars are prized for their aesthetic appeal, lending a timeless elegance to building facades, roofing, and decorative elements.

Qualities to Look for in Suppliers

When sourcing copper flat bars, it's essential to partner with reputable suppliers who can provide quality materials and reliable service. Here are some key qualities to consider when evaluating potential suppliers:

Quality Assurance: Look for suppliers who adhere to strict quality control standards and provide certifications to guarantee the purity and consistency of their copper products.

Variety of Sizes and Grades: Choose suppliers who offer a diverse range of copper flat bar sizes and grades to meet your specific project requirements.

Customization Options: Opt for suppliers who can accommodate custom orders and provide machining or fabrication services to tailor copper flat bars to your exact specifications.

Reliability and Timeliness: Select suppliers with a track record of timely deliveries and responsive customer service to ensure smooth transactions and project timelines.

Sustainability Practices: Consider suppliers who prioritize sustainable sourcing and manufacturing practices to minimize environmental impact and promote responsible stewardship of resources.

Where to Find Reliable Copper Flat Bar Suppliers

Finding reliable copper flat bar suppliers may require some research and due diligence, but there are several avenues to explore:

Online Marketplaces: Platforms like Alibaba, Thomasnet, and Global Sources offer a vast selection of copper flat bars from suppliers worldwide. Be sure to read reviews and verify credentials before making a purchase.

Industry Associations: Trade organizations such as the Copper Development Association (CDA) or the International Copper Association (ICA) can provide resources and recommendations for reputable copper suppliers.

Local Metal Suppliers: Many cities have local metal suppliers or distributors that carry copper flat bars in stock or can order them from trusted manufacturers.

Referrals and Recommendations: Reach out to colleagues, industry contacts, or fellow professionals for referrals to reputable copper flat bar suppliers they have worked with successfully.

Direct Contact with Manufacturers: Some copper producers and mills may sell directly to consumers or provide a list of authorized distributors where their products are available.

Conclusion

In conclusion, sourcing copper flat bars from reliable suppliers is essential for ensuring the success of your projects and the longevity of your installations. By prioritizing quality, reliability, and sustainability, you can find trusted suppliers who offer high-quality copper flat bars that meet your specific needs and specifications. Whether you're working on electrical systems, architectural designs, or industrial applications, partnering with reputable copper flat bar suppliers is the first step toward achieving excellence in your projects.

Contact Us More Information

Emai: sales@brassandcopper.com.au Contact number :(02) 9624 2355 Website : https://brassandcopper.com.au/

[pratibharefractoryminerals]

Choosing the Right Silica Sand and Quartz Grit Supplier

Before delving into the selection process, it's essential to understand the significance of silica sand and quartz grit in various industries. Silica sand is a versatile material widely used in the production of glass, ceramics, and as a molding compound in foundries. Quartz grit, on the other hand, is known for its high purity and is used in the manufacturing of semiconductors, electronics, and more. Therefore, choosing the right supplier is paramount to the quality and success of your projects. These materials are essential in various industries, including construction, glass manufacturing, and foundry work. One name that stands out as the top Supplier of Silica Sand and quartz grit is Pratibha Refractory Minerals.

Quality and Purity Standards

One of the most critical factors when selecting a supplier is the quality and purity of the materials they provide. Pratibha Refractory Minerals is renowned for maintaining stringent quality standards. The silica sand and quartz grit they offer are known for their exceptional purity, which is a must for industries like electronics and semiconductor manufacturing.

Customization Options

Every industry has unique requirements when it comes to silica sand and quartz grit. Therefore, it's essential to choose a supplier that offers customization options. We excel in this aspect, providing tailored solutions to meet specific needs, be it in terms of particle size, purity levels, or packaging.

Reliability and Consistency

Consistency in the supply chain is vital to keep your operations running smoothly. We have a track record of reliability and consistency in delivering high-quality silica sand and quartz grit, making them a trusted partner for many businesses.

Competitive Pricing

While quality is paramount, cost-effectiveness also plays a significant role in choosing a supplier. We offer competitive pricing without compromising quality, which is a rare and valuable combination in the industry.

Environmental Responsibility

Environmental concerns are now more critical than ever. We take environmental responsibility seriously by adhering to sustainable mining practices and minimizing their ecological footprint, ensuring that your business supports eco-friendly suppliers.

Material Selection Expertise

Pratibha Refractory Minerals' expertise in material selection is a cornerstone of their reputation. Their team of specialists possesses an in-depth understanding of silica sand and quartz grit, allowing them to guide you in making the best choices for your specific applications. Whether you're in the glass manufacturing industry, foundry business, or electronics sector, their experts can provide valuable insights into which materials will optimize your processes and products.

Global Reach and Local Service

A significant advantage of partnering with us is their global reach combined with local service. They have a vast distribution network that ensures access to their high-quality materials no matter where your business is located. This means you can rely on their efficient logistics and local support to meet your supply needs, even if you're operating on an international scale.

On-Time Delivery Assurance

In the fast-paced world of industry, delays can be costly. We understand the value of punctuality and guarantee on-time delivery of your orders. This assurance minimizes downtime and ensures that your production processes remain uninterrupted, leading to increased efficiency and profitability.

Conclusion

Selecting the right silica sand and quartz grit supplier is a crucial decision for businesses in various industries. Pratibha Refractory Minerals stands out as a reliable, eco-conscious, and customer-centric supplier that offers top-quality products and services. With their commitment to quality and excellence, they are a name you can trust.

Ready to make the right choice for your silica sand and quartz grit supplier? Contact us today to discuss your specific needs and experience the difference their quality, expertise, and reliability can make in your industry. Don't compromise on the materials that drive your projects; reach out to us now for a partnership that ensures success. Your satisfaction is their priority.

[chaoticgeminate]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Eight

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (If that was not entirely clear)

Series Summary: You're a fanfiction writer turned novelist, which was great since it was the path you wanted your writing to take you down in life. What you never thought would happen was meeting the Javier Gutierrez, who you actively write smutty fanfiction about from his film with Nic Cage, and you especially didn't expect him to have a crush on you.

Fast forward several months of dating, with a good chunk of your relationship being distance due to his constant traveling and having to go home to Mallorca, when he surprises you with a prompt list and a vacation planned around exploring it.

You haven't even worked up the nerve to tell him about what you write and post to Tumblr about him as a character yet.

Notes: Going to be using prompts from @ the-purity-pen for my meta as hell indulgence! There are feelings in this (I have no idea how they got there) and I may end up removing some possible chapters here and there depending on how I'm feeling, I apologize in advance if that happens because my brain is super mean sometimes.

Possible Warnings: None, just mega fluff and implied smut! These two are the softest 💙

Interlude (941)

Javi’s day was taken up by phone meetings with the studio that picked up his newest project, you hadn’t been able to follow every little bit of what he’d told you was happening because of how quickly he was rushing to get ready, and you decided to take the day and write as many drabbles as you could to post for your mutuals and readers online. Why he had to do all this on a Saturday you would never really know, you had thought it would be handled by people with a nine-to-five schedule Monday through Friday but evidently you were wrong.

So, writing it was.

There wasn’t much point working on your novel, still far ahead of schedule and unable to look at the sex scene without cringing, so in a spur of the moment bit of fuck it energy you’d reached out to your fellow conspirator in all things sexy -your darling Tumblr wife- and asked her to read over your slowly developing rough draft to get her opinion on the sex scene.

The professional editors that you’d sent it to had all been very vocally approving, it made the scene “more widely acceptable” in its symbolic nature versus a descriptive nature, but when you’d pushed back with the reminder that this series was meant to be darker and grittier and dirtier than what you’d already published they had tried to claim it would ruin book sales.

Maxie had tried to push you to conforming but you just couldn’t do it.

The rougher, harsher, pace and more descriptive sex scene felt integral to showcase the characterization of the male lead through the eyes of his female partner.

Why was it so hard to publish through a company?

The idea of cutting ties and self-publishing was starting to look really appealing. Especially with the information you had from the convention panel.

You grumbled and returned to your tablet where a blank page was waiting for you, opening up Tumblr on your phone and grinning at the shower of notifications, and it may have taken an hour to get through all the well wishes for a good vacation that you spotted a reblog from Amigo-con-cage of your vacation announcement.

‘You deserve a vacation, constantly providing us with immaculate stories, have a good time!’

Whoever this reviewer was you appreciated them, a lot, always offering support and kindness on just about everything you posted; you’d tried to invite them to your Discord server with your closest mutuals but they’d refused. Which was fine, you hadn’t pressed and they’d said the invitation was very sweet but they were too shy.

Shooting them a DM to thank them, mentioning you were indeed having a great time and that you appreciated their sweet message, all your focus went back to your tablet where you debated making Joaquin the subject of the random kinktober bites you were plotting. All your content for him had slowed to a grinding stop when Javi had asked you out, the only fic you were still writing for him was the series that wasn’t quite done yet, and until you talked to him about your hobbies… it felt weird to think about posting another update.

But that meant admitting to Javi you were writing smut content about him, since the film was based off his actual life and events that actually happened.

Whoreno hours it was, you decided instead.

Tapping away at your Bluetooth keyboard as you lounged on the padded bench under the shade of the gazebo, a double walled bottle of water and a chilled drink beside you, the drabble turned story began to come together easily enough to your relief. By the time you’d finished giving it a read over, making the post, and then scheduling said post for the correct day a few hours had passed and you were starting to feel peckish.

Checking the time, glad to know you had managed to work through most of the hours Javi was supposed to be busy with calls, you stretched out and let the warmth wash over you for just a little longer before deciding you could get a little something to munch on and maybe check in with Javi to see if he needed anything.

Snagging some of your favorite snacks, since Javi had insisted on them being stocked for you while you were here, a genius idea crossed your mind before you dialed Lorna about good takeaway in the area.

One order from a place called Agave later, to be delivered by eight or so, you began throwing together everything you needed for a movie night in the private theater and set up the most amazing blanket fort with a massive grin on your face. It was perfect and Javi was in for the biggest surprise ever, he’d spoiled you rotten so you were absolutely returning the favor.

You remembered him mentioning he’d never made a blanket fort before so it was time to remedy that.

“Solecita, what is-“ He came in about ten minutes after dinner had arrived and you’d set up the theater room with fairy lights and had the movie queued up, and your giggle made him look at you as you tugged him to get into the fort with you.

“Blanket fort! Figured we could watch some movies-“ He cut you off with a kiss and you yelped when he pinned you to the cushions you’d set down, one of his big hands holding your hip as the other held him up a little, and dinner was forgotten when he pulled your underwear down your legs and decided to start with dessert.

All Fics Taglist: @hardc0rehaylz @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @musings-of-a-rose @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

Kinktober Only: @nicolethered @katareyoudrilling

[sliptohk]

Prompt #17: Novel

Something had seemed off about the Keeper that came strolling into the shop, Fen's ears laying flat in response to their arrival. With a darker grey cast to her skin than the Lohro engineer, green hair, and those piercing violet eyes the robed figure reminded them of the deadly Ooja of her homeland. Saying nothing of the tattoos dancing across their face. Though why would come to Ul'dah? They never left their hunting grounds, unless it were to raid a merchant or beat back a rival tribe.

Such thoughts were not in Qata's mind. Tasked as she and her sister Zahrah had been with tracking the departing Lohro to the city, she had never truly bothered to learn anything of just what Fen might look like aside from her name. And even that was of minor importance when the grand metropolis they had founds themselves in had so many different things to offer for her studies.

Lifting a finger, she chirped excitedly to the shopkeeper in the common tongue. The accent on her words odd, though largely due to the most recent testing still roaring through her veins. Not that the other miqo'te would be aware of that,  "I have been told you can craft any number of custom creations! I require a triple reserve alembic. The offerings on display here are simply not good enough!"

Fen cocked her head to one side, ears raising again at the request. Glass work was not her forte, but she was familiar enough with the art of alchemy to follow what was asked to some degree. And she had never had need to create one as this fellow Keeper was requesting. Folding muscular forearms on top of her desk, the inventor fixed Qata with her mismatched gaze. That one red-eye and the other silvered behind the darkened lenses of her goggles.

"What would the nature of these reserves be? It would be difficult to control the separation of whatever you seek to distill unless their compositions are wholly dissimilar. Just where might these additional vessels be positioned?"

The already enthusiastic poisoner clapped her hands together, descriptions came so much simpler when the other participant in the conversation had even the vaguest concept of just what was being presented to them!

"Correct! My ingredient has three distinct aspects! I require a collection of the vapors, so there simply must be a vessel on top to see it properly separated from the main chamber! A second nearer to the bottom to collect the denser components - if separated properly there ought to be a piece that sinks in water whilst the other collects at the top like algae!"

Wariness drifted away as the project became the centerpoint of Fen's focus. Qata never possessed any to dispel. "Why do you need a third collection? If the first is vapor and the second so dense why do you not simply seek to separate those and then leave this film in the main chamber for collection?"

Qata let out a shocked gasp, as if she had just been slapped in the face! "But the purity! No, no, they simply must be wholly separated from the other. Anything left in the main chamber shall be discarded if it cannot be definitively separated!"

Already the engineer was nodding, a finger tapping steadily against her forearm as an image began to form in her mind, "Yes, yes, a narrower chamber, then. Three chamber with a valve to ensure they can be sealed independently and removable, I would think. This would reduce the chances of contamination of your samples."

Reaching for a piece of paper, she hurriedly scratched out a quick sketch, before spinning it on the table to show right-side up to the eager alchemist leaning over the desk to get a good glimpse of it herself. It was a simple enough design, though a bit fragile. Bits of metal and glass outlined where they could screw into the alembic and the bi-valve system to ensure that both the receiving vessel and processing one could be independently tightened. Taller and more narrow than a standard alembic, the bulkiness of the design was displeasing. It would require further iterations.

All the same, it was a good starting concept, "Like this, then? I set the tertiary valve lower, as I do not know just how large a sample you might work with. Once you boil and separate enough of the densest distillation then you can simply tighten the valve to ensure you collect as much as you wish of the second. If this suits your needs then I shall get to work on refining the design. If not, then provide me more detail on the nature of this mixture and I shall amend the structure."

They went back and forth for bells, the occasional customer stepping in and quickly being dealt with so Lohro and Ooja could return to their discussion on just what Qata was looking to have completed. When finally they were both satisfied, Fen leaned back to watch her newest customer depart with only one thought at the forefront of her mind.

That is definitely an Ooja tribeswoman.

Outside, no such thoughts were going through Qata's head. At least not until she heard an angry hiss and felt the sharp pinch of fingers on one of her ears as Zahrah leaned in to curse at her under her breath.

"Why did you stroll into the Lohro's shop, you twit!"

Blinking owlishly, but otherwise wholly indifferent to this piece of information, the shorter miqo'te only offered, "She was a Lohro?"

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 1

I told myself I was gonna take a break. I lied. I wanted to write a whole bin of Sin for Simeon. I’m sorry, not sorry at all. Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list: Chapter Masterlist: Here Crossposted on Ao3: here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

Paring: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 4,900 ish Genre: Smut Tags: Masturbation, Voyeurism, hints of dirty talk? Summary: Sent from the Celestial realm to observe and study humans; Simeon made a name for himself as the illustrious author of The Tales of the Seven Lords. After reaching acclaim for his first series, he's having trouble writing his next great hit. Good thing you're there for him as his manager and editor to help him work out the... kinks in writing.

Trip

The most dangerous aspect of humans was their innate ability to tempt even the most stalwart and steadfast of angels into a world of sin. Simeon was not immune to their ways, no matter how reclusive he became. It was easy to study them from afar, learning about them through numbers and sales numbers. The masses were easy to sway with a few pretty words. Blending in with humans was a trivial task for him. All he had to do was make a few public appearances for book signings and some launch parties for a new series; otherwise he was free to observe and study from afar. 

After the international success of The Tale of The Seven Lords, Simeon found himself feeling rather empty. He needed a new project to keep him entertained in the human realm. However, no matter what he started to work on, it didn’t inspire the same sort of passion he had for his older series. He needed a new genre, a new style of writing to refresh his passion for words. If he was going to make it in an ever changing market, he would need to adapt as well. Yet, no matter what genre he tried, every draft he came up with seemed too mundane and overdone. 

Everything except, for the temptation of writing something much more salacious than his last work. 

Just entertaining the thought had him on a slippery slope of falling from the grace of the Celestial realm. Sure, the strict protocols of olde had been loosened over the centuries. Many angels realized that enforcing perfect adherence to the standards of purity set so long ago no longer applied to modern times. Rules had been loosened and enforcement had relaxed to the point where Simeon was almost positive if he wrote an absolutely obscene novel, he didn’t risk losing his Celestial powers. 

The only problem was that he had no experience in the genre at all. He threw together a vague plot and outline, thinking it would be all he needed to inspire him. Surprisingly enough, the publishing house allowed for the drastic change in genre, confident that he would be able to create another best seller. Just having that much trust put in him made him want to succeed even more with the haphazard novel idea. 

But, despite his determination to make his new manuscripts lewd, he was at a complete loss as to what, and how to write them properly. The outline he presented to you seemed excellent on paper. Even if it had a few plot holes, you knew he could patch them up with a little work. So, it was natural that you would push the approval and leave him to his own devices to work on the manuscript. You were sure that an author of his caliber would be able to break into a new branch of the literary market without any issues. 

But, after several months of waiting, you had no contact at all from him regarding the progress of his new book. The industry needed proof of his work in order to justify their investment in him. Being so renowned, the pressure was on him to create something magnificent. You could only imagine the kind of stress he was going through and as his manager and editor, you were responsible for making sure he met deadlines. You hated to rush his process, but there was no way he could meet the dates set by the publisher if he didn’t give you something to work with soon. 

After trying to reach out to him several times by phone and email with little to no response, the only option left was to go to his abode and see just what he was hiding from. No other outline he submitted had passed so this was his one and only chance to continue his writing career. You patiently waited after knocking on his door, hoping he would answer and wasn’t going to ignore you any further. You knew how serious writer’s block could be; but you hoped he wouldn’t let that get in the way of being a professional. 

Luckily, the door opened soon enough and you were ushered in by an extremely tired and frazzled looking Simeon. He lead you to his office after you had taken off your shoes and changed into the guest slippers he offered. Simeon didn’t speak to you during the whole exchange, a shell of the soft spoken and attentive author you had come to know after so many years of working with him. He shuffled into his office, an obvious slouch in his posture and slumped behind his desk before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. 

“I’m guessing you know why I’m here.” You said and he sighed in resignation, burrowing his head in his hands and running them through his hair. You felt terrible adding stress onto him, he looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept in days. The bags under his eyes were so dark, they almost looked like deep bruises. 

“Yes… You want a manuscript…” his normally soft voice sounded hoarse and you wondered if he had eaten or drunken anything at all that day. “I’m almost done with the first draft… would you like to come and see?” He turned his laptop towards you and you started reading what he had so far. 

All seemed well and good at first. The characters were believable and the premise, though a bit cheesy, was definitely acceptable for the genre. The further you read, the more you noticed large gaps in his writing. Whole paragraphs seemed to be missing and sentences ended midway. Dialog was left unfinished and by the time you reached the end of the first chapter, it was a mess. You could already feel the inevitable headache you were going to get from editing for him. 

“Uhm…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not my best work.” 

He tried to smile, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. You reached out to him and held his hand, rubbing your thumb in reassuring circles on his palm. “You’ve worked hard on it, still. What’s got you so hung up though?” 

He got a little flustered at your question, nervously running his hand through his hair and looking to the side. Writing such a topic with no experience in it was proving to be difficult for him. He could research all he wanted and consume all the media he could to aid him, but there was just something missing. His lack of knowledge was showing and he wasn’t sure how he could keep being composed about his failure so far. He gestured at the screen and shrugged, trying to get his message across without using words; but, when he saw your confused expression, he had to speak. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” he finally admitted. “I want to write this so badly, but I don’t know how to… describe the scenes the way I want to.” 

You sat back in the chair, crossing your arms over your chest and nodding. You could only imagine the difficulty he was having in producing the quality content you were sure he was used to coming up with. With deadlines looming above your head, you needed at least a chapter to submit to the publishing house so they knew actual work was being done. You sighed, trying to think of ways to jump start his creativity. The gloomy atmosphere of his office didn’t seem help. The lights were dim and the curtains were all drawn. It didn’t feel like a place that could invoke the imagery he was going for. “Let’s move somewhere.” you suggested finally. “Do you have a room with lots of sunlight? Maybe a change of mood will help.” 

“Ah… there’s the sunroom..” he said. “But I don’t know if just changing where I am writing will help the situation. If it hasn’t gotten done here, I doubt it will anywhere else.” 

“Just try it.” you encouraged, already unplugging his laptop and taking it with you. “It’s so gloomy in here, even I’m getting depressed just sitting around. Come on, which way is it?” 

“Ah… this way.” He said, shamefully shuffling out from behind his desk and showing you the way to the sunroom which overlooked a rather well manicured garden with a variety of flowers in full bloom. You marveled at the bright, airy feel of the room and took a second to really appreciate his choice in decor. 

“Wow, would have never pegged you as the kind of guy who gardens.” You teased, flopping onto the couch he had in there and lounged in its plush confines. Looking through the glass ceiling, you watched a few clouds drift by while Simeon got comfortable in a recliner in the corner of the room. You could tell he was still a bit frustrated, but you knew getting him some sun would do him good. 

“Well, when I don’t have any pressing deadlines, being with the plants helps relieve stress. It’s unfortunate that I cannot give you a tour this time.” 

“There’s plenty of opportunities in the future. They’re not going anywhere, and neither am I. You know I’m going to keep hounding you until your manuscript is finished.” 

He chuckled, nodding and opening up his laptop. You let silence pass between the two of you, going back to watching the clouds while the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard lulled you into a daydream like state. You grabbed onto one of the large, decorative pillows he had on the couch, clutching it against your chest while you made up stories in your head about the clouds above. If you weren’t so stressed about turning something into the publishing house so soon; it would have been a perfect, calming afternoon. 

The clack of the keyboard stopped after a little bit. Whatever inspiration Simeon had when he entered the room seemed to have fizzled out and he was stuck in yet another rut, writing one word and deleting it over and over again. You sighed, turning to watch him as he gnawed on his thumb, mumbling to himself. 

“What’s not working?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. 

“Just… this scene… it’s not working. I can’t envision it.” He grumbled. Looking up at where you were laying on his couch, clutching onto the pillow, he was suddenly struck by a brilliant plan. The worry lines on his forehead disappeared and he broke out into a slight smile when he realized how he could get his creative juices flowing. “Help me… I need inspiration.” 

You sat up straight, ready to assist in any way you could. “Okay, what do you want me to do?” You asked. 

Simeon squinted, in the right light, you looked similar to the main character he had written. His plan could work if you reenacted the scene he had in mind. The issue was actually explaining the scene to you in a way that didn’t make his body feel overheated. He was already playing with fire by writing such a lewd book, pushing his limits further felt like he was sliding right down a slope heading towards a great fall. There was no other way, he reasoned. As long as I do not defile her, it’ll be fine. Taking a deep breath, he got up from where he was and walked over to you. 

“I need you to…. Uhm… Well.. how do I say this… I’m having trouble writing a love making scene and I need some… visual aids.” You blinked, processing his request and then looked him up and down, feeling your whole body heat up at once. You were sure you had kept your crush on him a secret. To have him ask you so suddenly to provide visual aid for an explicit novel felt like too big of a jump for you to comprehend. “Oh… Oh no, no, no. You don’t have to do anything with me.” He said, gesturing wildly when he saw you pointedly stare at his crotch. “You can just pretend that this is the ‘lover.’” He took the pillow from your arms and laid it on the couch. 

You didn’t know if you should have felt relived or disappointed that he wanted you to reenact a sex scene with a pillow and not him. It was all quite a bit to take in, but the desperate pout on his face was something you couldn’t ignore. And both your jobs were on the line. You sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay… But only because we have deadlines coming up.” You said. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” 

Simeon smiled for the first time that day, hurriedly moving back to his computer and preparing to take notes on what you were doing. “I’m ready when you are.” he announced once he opened up a separate document. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just, you know… do you?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow as you started to undress. It was embarrassing for sure; but part of you relished in seeing Simeon so flustered when it came to the nature of lewd things. You wondered why he had bothered submitting such an outline at all when he wasn’t familiar with how to write erotica; but his determination to branch out to other genres had won you over in the end. It just fell upon your shoulders to show this man how it was done. 

“I… No… I can’t. I need to write.” He stuttered. Do not defile her, do not defile her. Her womb is sacred and not something you can toy with… Even if he wanted the first hand experience, he still had rules to abide by. 

“Alright, whatever you say. You’re the boss.” You shrugged, unbuttoning your blouse. “Don’t forget, part of the sexiness is in the tease.” You explained, taking your time to sway your hips side to side as each button came undone. Trying to seduce a pillow was so much more boring than trying to seduce Simeon. The things I do for this job… 

You made sure to waggle your ass as you peeled off your pants, tossing them to the side along with your blouse. There was something thrilling about being in a room made of glass. Any woodland creature that decided to come visit his garden at that moment would also get an eyeful of your progressively bare body. The rush of having Simeon watch you as you stripped had your heart racing. 

At the very least, you knew your efforts weren’t in vain. You could hear the furious clacking of the keyboard as you gave the pillow in front of you a sultry look. As lame as it all was, it was still rather arousing to know you were being watched by the man who you had crushed on for so long now. “Alright… sir. I’m going to need you to lay down. You have a problem that only I can take care of.” You said to the pillow. You tried hard not to laugh at how ridiculous the scenario was. It wouldn’t do to break the mood, especially when you could tell Simeon was definitely getting some writing done. 

You got back onto the couch, straddling the pillow between your legs once you were in nothing but your underthings. Licking your lips, you pretended that Simeon was under you and not the decorative cushion. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel his lean body under your own, squirming in discomfort as you took control of the scenario. There was just something about how gentle and soft spoken he was that made  your heart flutter with the need to dominate him until he was a flushed, moaning mess. 

Using that fantasy in your mind, you slowly started to gyrate your hips onto the pillow, throwing your head back and moaning. “Oh yes…” You breathed, pleasantly surprised at the stimulation you got from the friction of your panties rubbing against your spread core. You hummed, content with the thought of Simeon holding onto your hips to keep your steady. If he wanted to watch, then you were going to give him the best show available. 

You grasped at your breasts, teasing your nipples through the fabric of your bra until they were sensitive little buds that made you gasp. As you continued to grind against the pillow, you could feel your essence starting to flow, no doubt you were going to leave quite a substantial wet mark on the pillow if you continued. You wanted to pause and warn Simeon of what was about to happen; but when you turned and saw the look of concentration on his face, you didn’t dare break his focus. 

He’ll just have to deal with it later… You figured going back to that happy place in your mind where the writer in front of you was actually under you. Closing your eyes, you imagined what it would be like to hear him moan as you pressed your heat against his cock. Surely he must sound absolutely angelic when he cums. Pushing slipping your hands under your bra, you pushed the fabric away, peeled it off your skin and threw it into a random corner to pick up later. “You have no idea how hot you look right now.” You purred, looking down at the cushions below you, wishing you had something sexier to talk dirty to; but you would have to make do with what you had. 

Leaning down, you grabbed a pillow to act as your ‘lovers’ head and started to kiss it. It was so hard to ignore just how disappointing it was to make out with a lump of fabric and not the beautiful man in the corner who was so engrossed with his writing, you might as well have been invisible to him. You could only use your imagination to fantasize about how soft Simeon’s lips must be. He always took such good care of his skin and he had an ethereal glow about him, as if he was blessed by the sun itself. You moaned into the pillow, hating the rough canvas you were pressed up against, but at least your pussy was getting something out of how much you were humping the pillow. 

You came up, gasping for air after having half smothered yourself with a pillow and glanced over at Simeon again. Even as he was furiously typing, you could see that he was at least a little affected by the show you were putting on. Good, I would have hated myself if he’s not even a smidgen turned on by this. You smirked, looking down at your ‘lover’ and pretended to whisper sweet nothings to them before getting off the couch. 

Simeon made a small sound of protest when he saw that you were no longer straddling the pillow, but he quickly shut up when he saw that you were divesting yourself of your panties. “Oh… carry on.” He mumbled, going back to his document, though his eyes continuously flicked up towards you to make sure he was capturing the moment properly. 

Feeling your bare pussy rub against the rough fabric of the pillow sent shivers of pleasure up and down your body and you moaned, riding it harder than before. The stimulation was great, but it wasn’t enough. Really, you wanted to have Simeon buried balls deep in you and not at his computer. However, your priority was your job and that meant sticking to what you had to work with. “Fuck…” You groaned, clenching your inner walls around nothing and wishing that you had at least a toy to fill you up and give you something to ride. 

You ground against the pillow, your essence soaking the fabric and leaving a sizable wet mark, but you didn’t care. It was all the stimulation you could get and you were going to work it for all it was worth. One hand went back up to your breast, rolling your pert nipple between your thumb and forefinger, whining at the mixture of pain and pleasure you were giving yourself. “Yeah… you like watching me touch myself, babe?” You asked no one in particular; but truthfully, you hoped Simeon was really enjoying what he saw and heard.. 

His fingers on the keyboard never ceased moving as he vividly described the scene before him. He was so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t even notice himself getting hard. There was too much to write and no time to think about the attention the rest of his body was asking for. He licked his lips, his gaze constantly going back and forth from the document to your body. You were acting out the scene so well, he couldn’t stop writing; he needed to record every detail. You were everything he had imagined his main character to be; effortlessly confident, commanding in the bedroom and dripping with sex appeal. Even if it was a spur of the moment suggestion, he had no regrets considering he was getting so much more writing done in the last half hour than he had in the past two months. 

Your breathing came out in short little pants as you tried to chase a release that just wouldn’t come with so little to work with. You reached between your legs to fondle your sensitive clit, groaning loudly as you made love to yourself. You didn’t know how long the scene was supposed to be, but your thighs were getting tired of riding an inanimate object and you just wanted to get off now. 

“Mm fuck.. You feel so good…” You breathed, closing your eyes and imagining Simeon sliding inside of you. The first pass must feel so good. You fantasized about lowering yourself onto his cock slowly letting him savor every inch that entered you. In your head, his bright blue eyes glittered in lust, watching his dick disappear into you until your hips met and he would moan at the feeling of being completely buried in you. “Yeah… just like that…” You moaned, rubbing circles at your clit while your inner walls clenched rhythmically at air. 

You went back to dragging your pussy across the fabric of the pillow smearing your essence all over to get as much out of the scenario as you could. Your fingers rubbed your clit harder, pushing you ever closer and closer to release. “Oh… Oh… I’m so close…” You whined, announcing your climax mere seconds before it happened. The last push you needed was looking over at Simeon and seeing him completely engrossed in what you were doing. His fingers frozen on the keyboard and his comfortable pants with a rather impressive tent in them. 

“Fuck. Simeon.” you cursed, cumming all over the pillow. Your fingers slowed their pace around your clit, rubbing your labia back and forth as you rode out the orgasm. You fell forward onto the pillows beneath you, still slowly humping them while you let the initial high pass and the afterglow set in. It wasn’t until the haze of pleasure passed that you realized you had called his name while getting off on his couch in front of him. 

Simeon swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way you called his name. Everything had gone smoothly until you had cried out for him while in the throes of your climax. He had stopped everything he was doing just mere moments before you did that; and now, he didn’t know if he had the mental capacity to continue with what he was writing. 

For once, he was tempted to throw away whatever celestial blessings he had to take you and be the real reason why you screamed his name. 

Shoving the indecent thoughts to the back of his head, he turned back to his document, writing a sentence and erasing it, repeating the action over and over again while his brain looped the beautiful image of you as you came on his couch. Now, he noticed the tightness in his pants, the obvious boner he sported as a result of such an experiment. But, he couldn’t be mad at it. He had achieved a groove in writing and he was sure he could finish the draft you needed in time.

Simeon let you rest a bit and gather yourself together on the couch. No doubt both of you were aware of the slip, but he could pretend it didn’t affect him as much as it did. Eventually, you had the courage to look back up at him, only to find him busily typing away at his computer. Sighing, and running your hand through your hair amused that he could stay so calm, you got up and started to get dressed. “So, I’m guessing moving somewhere else worked?” you asked, keeping your tone light. 

“Hmm… yes.” He agreed, half paying attention to what you were doing. He couldn’t bear to look at you while you were exposed and waited patiently until you were fully clothed until he made eye contact and spoke to you again. “I definitely got some good notes in. I’ll just need a little more time to flesh out some of the filler scenes and I’ll email you the draft in a couple of days.” 

You let out a laugh, surprised that he was able to focus on work still after what he had just witnessed. He truly was as innocent as he presented himself to be sometimes. “Alright, well. I’ll look forward to reading it.” 

“Will you be back?” he asked, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “You were so helpful, I think I might need more help for the rest of the book.” Not, like I want to see something like that again… No, I just need it for research purposes… 

“You know I’ll be back.” You laughed heartily, ruffling his hair. “I have to bother you at least once a month to make sure you’re on schedule to finish.” 

Simeon slouched into his chair and let out a soft laugh in relief. “Of course, how could I forget.” In his mind, he was already planning new scenarios for you to play out. There would be much more research to be done, and supplies to be obtained before your next visit. But, all those things could wait. For now, he closed his laptop, noticing how low on battery it had gotten.Time had slipped by him, the sun already well on its way past the horizon. “It’s getting late…” He commented, trying to change the subject to something a little safer than the masturbation session you just had in front of him. 

“Yeah… I’ll get going and let you work in peace.” In a moment of bold recklessness, you stepped forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you next time, babe. Can’t wait to see what you’re gonna make me do for you.” you teased, giving him a coy wink before showing yourself out.

As soon as the door was firmly shut, Simeon let out a deep sigh, laughing out loud at the predicament he had put himself into. He wanted to quit everything and dissolve into the ground. He wanted to continue writing and see your body writhe in pleasure. He wanted to also defile you and sate himself inside of you. Most of all though, there was a growing darkness within him, one he didn’t even notice just yet; and that part of him craved to see you put in your place to beg for him like the god he knew he was. 

Pushing all his desires down and curbing his lust for the time being, he moved his computer back to his office and let it charge for the rest of the evening. His mind still swirled with the image of your exposed body riding that pillow in the sunroom. The early evening sunset made your body glow with an almost angelic light; and for once, he felt jealous of an inanimate object.

Quietly padding back into the sunroom, he looked at the soiled cushion; feeling a surge of heat rush through him when he saw the wet spot you had left behind. Licking his lips, he approached it like it was a wild animal, tentatively poking at it. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend to still feel your warmth lingering on the fabric. He could feel shame rising up in him as he laid down on the couch, rested his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, memorizing the scent of your arousal. 

His hand reached down between his legs, slipping past his pants and to his hard length that needed his attention. Turning his head to smother his moans and to surround himself with your unique smell, he teased and pleased himself, putting himself in the scenario you had played out just mere moments ago. 

“Oh… oh fuck…” He groaned surprised at how little effort it took to make him cum and ruin his pants to the thought of you bouncing on his cock and calling his name. He was quickly falling down the deep end of temptation and he could feel the darkness of sin encroaching. 

The scariest part was the fact that he didn’t care at all. 

[chierafied]

Polar Attraction (SKW2020D4)

This is for the lovely and super talented @rannyunny​, who wanted CEO!Sess.

Your wish is my command. 😉

Also just so you know this kinda got away from me so it’s like 7,420 words. Whoops.

Also posted on AO3, Dokuga & FFnet!

Sesshoumaru stood in front of the wide window in his top-floor office, looking down at the glinting city lights spreading out before him in the night. He brought the glass of whisky to his lips and took a good long sip of the amber liquid.

The meeting had gone on for too long. The international sales executives had been annoying and obtuse and trying to explain the North American market to him as if he was a complete idiot.

Sesshoumaru had quickly divested them of such gross misconceptions, and promptly reminded them why he was the CEO of the company. Cowed though they had been after that, it had still taken time to come to an agreement on all the necessary details relating to the upcoming international release of their newest video game.

People, Sesshoumaru sneered, taking another sip of whisky. Dealing with them was exhausting.

Proud as he was of his accomplishments and how far they’d come, there had been an appealing simplicity in the old days when they’d only just been starting out. With Miroku having the great vision and ideas, and also the charm, he had dealt with marketing and hiring and every other annoyance requiring interpersonal skills. Sesshoumaru had been happily left to deal with the finances and the programming end of things.

But their business had grown exponentially from those days; their games had become household names across the globe and Sesshoumaru found himself a CEO of a multibillion corporation. 

Which meant that now he, too, was forced to deal with people, at least whenever there was another meeting to sit in. 

Still, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sesshoumaru had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. His father, a former warlord, was now the head of a formidable multinational electronics conglomerate that he’d first founded back in Meiji era. And though he had given Sesshoumaru and Miroku financial backing when they had been starting out, Sesshoumaru had paid him back every yen.

All of this, the company, the top-floor office, the CEO position, were of Sesshoumaru’s own making, which made them all the more precious.

He could easily have found employment in his father’s company. 

He could easily have lived off his father’s money without pursuing any employment at all, had he so wished.

But Sesshoumaru had desired to make his own way, to come to his own power instead of relying on his father’s influence.

And in that, he had succeeded. Sesshoumaru’s lips curved, and he downed the rest of his whisky. 

  An important deadline to a big project they'd been working on the past two years was fast approaching. Everyone was working hard and long hours, doing their utmost to meet the deadline.

Even Sesshoumaru had left the lofty luxury of his top floor office and the daily grind of his administrative work so he could focus on his other strength: programming.

He'd commandeered a spare desk in the programming department and sat there, typing intently – one of the herd of his senior and junior programmers. 

When asked to, he might flit around the room to troubleshoot or check out a code or help someone hitting a digital wall.

After wrangling a particularly stubborn piece of code to do what it was supposed to do, Sesshoumaru leaned back in his chair and stretched.

A youkai had not been meant to crouch in front of a computer screen.

He needed to get up and walk, his neck was starting to ache.

More importantly, he needed coffee.

He could have headed for the breakroom or one of the vending machines out in the hallway but he preferred coffee of better quality and the café on the ground floor should still be open.

Besides, going down to the café would allow him to stretch his legs. 

Instead of the elevator, Sesshoumaru took the stairs. He walked down the five flights and the exercise helped ease the tension from his body. 

For a brief moment, he longed to let his youki burst out, to transform and run… but letting loose like that in the middle of Tokyo would be to no one’s benefit, least of all Sesshoumaru’s.

A few key people here and there might have been aware of the existence of youkai, but the public at large remained unaware.

Even if they’d try to explain the incident away by claiming to be filming a new kaiju movie, giving in to his true nature would be a heedless risk. 

Sesshoumaru stifled his growl. 

He’d feel better after he’d get his coffee.

Sesshoumaru pushed into the lobby, but instead of making a beeline to the café as he had intended to, he came to a halt.

There seemed to be some kind of a commotion going on at the front desk. The security was there, frowning down at a woman.

Sesshoumaru wasn't sure which reached him first; the cold spark of purity that sent a shiver down his spine or the scent, so sweet and beckoning that for a moment Sesshoumaru's mind went blank.

Before his brain had quite caught up with his actions, he was already striding towards the front desk, his instincts screaming at him, his blood thrumming in his veins, his youki coiling in tight around him.

The security guards had noticed his approach and were standing at attention.

Sesshoumaru ignored them.

He stared at the woman facing them. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her cheeks flushed with temper, her blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, her wealth of dark hair flowing freely down her back.

She was the most magnificent thing Sesshoumaru had ever seen.

“What seems to be the problem,” he asked, his voice coming out a rumble, his eyes still trained on the woman.

“Sir, the miss here claims to be a relative of one of our employees and seems to have some concerns about his welfare. We’ve offered to contact his department to check up on him, but she’s very insistent about being allowed up to see her relative herself.”

“I just need to see that my brother is alright, with my own two eyes,” the woman snapped.

“Again, Miss, we simply can’t allow –”

“Has she offered you any form of identification?” Sesshoumaru cut in.

“I have,” the woman replied, her irritated gaze flickering to him.

Sesshoumaru met her eyes.

“And does that information correspond with that we have of her brother?”

The security guard shifted. “Sir, it does, but we still can’t allow her to go up unaccompanied and –”

Sesshoumaru slanted them a sharp glance and the security guard shut up.

Even with his instincts howling at him, he understood the risk.

He couldn’t detect any deception from the woman, anger and worry were the only things she seemed to radiate at the moment.

But she could have been an accomplished actress, with a plausible story and well-forged false identification. 

She could have been a reporter after a scoop. Or something much worse.

Corporate espionage was a serious threat in this day and age.

But despite the risk, and perhaps because that sweet scent of hers wrapping around his being stirred his blood, he believed her story. Trusted her to be sincere.

“Very well. In that case, I will accompany her. What department is her brother in?”

“But Sir, I don’t think… Ah, the design department, Sir.”

Sesshoumaru gave him a brisk nod, then turned to the woman.

“Come with me.”

Kagome’s shoulders slumped in relief when the elevator doors slid shut. She was one step closer to Souta now and making sure he was ok, but she couldn’t fully relax yet.

She slanted a glance at the man who’d come to her rescue.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He gave her a curt nod.

She was all too aware of him, in the contained space they were in. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was startlingly handsome or the fact that he must have been one of the managers for the security guards to react to him the way they had… or maybe the weight of his lingering gaze pressing against her skin.

It could have been any of those things – or all of those things – but something about him set Kagome on the edge.

He had such a… presence. 

“I’m sorry I was creating a commotion down there,” Kagome said. 

When nervous, she had a tendency to talk. A lot.

“I don’t normally behave like that, it’s just that my brother never came home last night and his phone is turned off and when those guards didn’t listen to me I just got so mad…”

“I understand,” the man replied, his voice smooth and deep. “It is very natural to be concerned in a situation like that, and such emotions easily get the best of a person.”

She turned to him.

“However, irritating as the guards were, they were only doing their job,” he continued. “Competition is fierce and we’re working on a very important project right now. Any information leaking outside and to our competitors would be most unfortunate.”

Kagome blushed and looked down at her feet. 

Now that she had had a bit of time to calm down, she realised how rude she had been at the front desk. She’d have to apologise profusely – after she had made sure Souta was alright.

“Shall we?”

Kagome started and found the man looking at her expectantly. She hadn’t even realised that the elevator had stopped.

“Yes. Sorry.” 

She scooted out, all too aware of the man following behind her.

“This way,” he intoned. 

Kagome had to walk quickly to match his large strides. 

She frowned at his back, clad in an elegant suit.  

What was it about him? Something nagged at her that she couldn’t quite make sense of; something sending her nerves skittering. 

They came to a big, open-concept office. Even though it was getting late in the evening, most of the desks were still occupied. Some people were furiously tapping at their keyboards, others were muttering to themselves under their breath. Some were sketching or writing on bits of paper, others were conversing with one another, heads together.

And scanning the room, one familiar figure stood out to her from the mass.

“Souta!”

Her brother’s head jerked up and he turned away from his computer screen as Kagome hurried towards him.

“Kagome? What are you doing here?”

Souta’s eyes were rounded in surprise but soon they squeezed shut and he hissed out in pain.

“Ow, what the heck?”

Kagome let go of the shoulder she’d pinched and crossed her arms.

“I had to come to see for myself that you were still alive,” she said, her immense relief at finding Souta OK now turning into anger. “You had us worried sick!”

“What? Why? I told you I might have to stay late because there’s a deadline coming up,” Souta said.

“Staying late, yes. But you didn’t say you wouldn’t come home at all. And then you weren’t answering any of our calls and messages either.”

Souta dug his phone out of his jeans’ pocket and grimaced.

“Sorry. I forgot to charge it. Anyway, I’m fine, I worked late last night and then crashed in one of the break rooms.”

“I understand that if you need to stay late working it might be easier to just sleep over here at the office,” Kagome said, her tone gentler now. “But if you decide to do that, please let us know, so we won’t have to worry.”

“I will. I promise. I’m sorry, big sis.”

Kagome smiled and ruffled his hair. “Apology accepted.”  

Souta grumbled and tried to smooth his hair back into place.

“Now go away, I need to work.”

“Love you too, Souta. Take care, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. See you at home.”

He’d turned back to his computer.

Kagome stared at the back of his head and sighed in affectionate exasperation.

Oddly, it was comforting to know that even if they were both grown up, her little brother still remained a brat.

It felt a little odd to just turn and leave; after making such a commotion she hadn’t even spent five minutes upstairs. But she’d done what she’d come here for, made sure that Souta was all right. 

It was obvious that everyone was very busy, so Kagome walked back over to the elevators.

The man she had met in the lobby was still standing there just outside the office, waiting for her. 

Her heart skittered again as she saw him, goosebumps blooming down her arms.

“Did you find your brother?” he asked, the deep smooth voice enough to send a shiver down Kagome’s spine.

“Yes, he was fine, just too busy with work to charge his phone or let his family know he’s well,” Kagome said, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m glad everything was resolved,” the man intoned, then gestured towards the elevators. 

Kagome resumed her walking and stepped into the elevator when it arrived. The man stepped in after her, and pushed for the lobby.

Kagome leaned against the wall of the car, feeling both exhausted and embarrassed now that she knew Souta was ok. There had been a café downstairs, hadn’t there? She’d have to go in and buy something there to leave at the front desk as an apology.

Startled, she realised that the elevator had stopped moving.

Biting her lip, she turned her head, only to find the man staring at her.

Having his undivided attention flustered Kagome. She could feel her cheeks warm as she dropped her gaze.

“Thank you so much for helping me out,” she said.

“You already thanked me,” the man replied.

“Well, I’m still very grateful,” she said.

He inclined his head. “The pleasure was mine.”

Something in his voice had Kagome’s breath catching.

Blushing furiously, she stammered a goodbye and then left the elevator, heading towards the café.

The man’s lingering stare made the spot between her shoulder blades tingle every step of the way across the lobby.

  The woman didn't leave him alone.

Brief though their encounter had been, over the next week Sesshoumaru kept picking apart every word they had exchanged. Her expressions had been carved into his memory and he would study them to better discern her moods. He would replay the sound of her voice in his head, to a degree he was sure he had her tones memorised. He couldn’t forget that sweet light scent that had teased his nose. 

Never before had he encountered anyone who had so stirred his instincts.

Briefly, he had wondered if the cause for such a reaction had been the frisson of purity he had sensed. Then he had decided against it – after all, miko could be said to be a natural enemy to youkai, so it made little sense that meeting one would cause such yearning.

Of course, a mere memory could not sustain him forever, so, eventually, Sesshoumaru had to move from thoughts to action. 

He found her on social media, although it took him a while. She was a nurse. And single. Or at least she’d never posted about a boyfriend from what he could see.

For the longest time, that was where Sesshoumaru was stalled.

Sesshoumaru wasn’t sure how to proceed, what would be the best way to approach the woman he was longing for. 

When, on one evening, he found himself semi-seriously considering faking an injury or an illness so that he might go to the hospital she worked at and orchestrate a way to meet her again, he knew that something had to be done before this woman would drive him into insanity.

He would do what he always did and approach the problem head on.

It was easy to find her address from the personnel files they had for her younger brother. 

Sesshoumaru was well aware that it was an invasion of privacy, but sometimes the ends justified the means. And a forthright approach would at least have more honour than any way he might attempt to engineer an “accidental” meeting.

He packed his things, shot a quick e-mail off to Miroku, and left work early. 

He didn’t know anything about the woman’s schedule, didn’t even know if she was working today let alone what shift she might be in. 

But Sesshoumaru fervently wished that fate would be on his side, and he was prepared to wait.

He plugged the address into the navigation system of his car, then drove across Tokyo. 

The Higurashi home appeared in fact to be a shrine – which, given that the woman was a miko, shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Sesshoumaru.

He parked near the curb, then looked at the long wooden staircase rising from the sidewalk, leading up to a torii gate.  

Then, he settled in to wait. 

Sesshoumaru didn’t know how long he sat there in his car, his window cracked open, his radio on to try and alleviate his boredom, with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel and his gaze trained on the sidewalk, never wavering.

Finally, the light tantalising scent he’d memorised teased his nose.

Sesshoumaru sat up straighter, then quickly got out of the car. Standing still, intent like the predator he was, he stared up the street and at the approaching figure. 

She looked up just then, her blue eyes widening from surprise.

Her steps slowed but didn’t falter as she continued walking towards him. 

Sesshoumaru’s nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent, his eyes becoming hooded for a few lingering seconds. He watched her approach; she was far lovelier than the memories he’d been cherishing.

He hadn’t even talked to her yet, and Sesshoumaru already felt that coming here had been worthwhile, simply because he had got to see her again.

She stopped at a respectful distance and fidgeted.

Sesshoumaru greeted her with a small bow. “Miss Higurashi.”

She mirrored the gesture, offering him a hesitant hello in return.

“I apologise for showing up unannounced like this,” Sesshoumaru continued. “It must seem rude to approach you like this, waiting around near your house, but I really wanted to see you again.”

Miss Higurashi blinked.

To Sesshoumaru’s relief, she appeared neither alarmed nor annoyed at finding him waiting for her. The emotion most clear on her features was confusion.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“First, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Nishizuka Sesshoumaru. And what I want is to take you out on a date. I’d like that very much, actually.”

Miss Higurashi was staring at him, as well as the business card he was holding out, her lips parted. 

For a moment, silence reigned between them.

Then, Miss Higurashi found her voice, though it was squeakier than before and the words tumbled out in a stammer.

“I, umm, what? Really? Why?”

The corners of Sesshoumaru’s lips twisted. He was thoroughly charmed by the woman, and seeing her so flustered because of him stroked his ego in the most delicious way.

“Because I really wish to know you better,” he told her earnestly. “After our meeting, I haven’t seemed to be able to forget about you.”

She was blushing now, and Sesshoumaru couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

Her fingers trembled as she accepted his card. She fumbled around her handbag for a moment before pulling out a business card that she offered to him in return.

Sesshoumaru accepted it gracefully, and ran his thumb over the hiragana spelling out her first name.

Kagome.

Warmth swelled in his chest.

“Your answer, Miss Higurashi?” he prompted, a smile curving his lips.

“I…” She bit her lip, tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Then she looked up at him, blue eyes soft. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Sesshoumaru’s smile widened, and though he did stamp out the primitive urge to howl in victory, he couldn’t help the flare of his aura, trying to weave his youki around her. 

“I’m glad,” Sesshoumaru said. “Thank you for indulging me, Miss Higurashi. I won’t take any more of your time. I’ll contact you so we can settle the details of our date.”

“Sure,” Miss Higurashi replied, still holding his card in her hand. “I’m looking forward to it,” she added, flashing him a shy smile.

“I am, too,” Sesshoumaru told her, his gaze intent on her, hoping to commit the sweetness of that smile into his memory. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised.

Then, he bowed and left.

Pulling out in his car, he looked into the rear-view mirror and found Miss Higurashi still standing by the shrine steps. 

A rare bark of laughter bubbled up Sesshoumaru’s throat as a sense of euphoria the likes of which he’d never experienced before swept over him. 

He had no idea what the miko was doing to him, why she was affecting him so.

And at this point, Sesshoumaru did not even care.

He was already craving more of it; more of her.

He couldn’t wait for their date and getting to see her again.

He’d have to get home soon so he could start planning.

Nothing short of perfect wouldn’t do.

His miko deserved the best.

 Kagome clutched at the business card in her hand. Her heart was racing, but it had nothing to do with the stairs she was climbing. She was in a daze, still trying to wrap her mind around what had actually just happened.

The hot manager from where Souta worked had been waiting for her because he’d wanted to see her again. Because he’d wanted to ask her out?

She looked at the business card in her hand, just to reassure it was all real. 

There was nothing on there but a phone number, and a name spelled out in elegant kanji.

Nishizuka Sesshoumaru. 

It sounded faintly familiar, but Kagome wasn’t sure where she’d heard it.

Maybe Souta had mentioned it at some point.

Even with the proof in her hand, Kagome was having a hard time believing that the conversation from ten minutes ago had actually taken place.

Stuff like this didn’t happen to Kagome.

Sure, she had been asked out before – there had been Houjou back in high school and then Kouga when she’d been in university – but a hot guy she’d met by a chance purposefully seeking her out because he wanted to see again?

Unreal.

That was just something straight out of a movie, wasn’t it?

Kagome smiled at the card.

The butterflies were going crazy in her stomach and she wasn’t sure what to make of the tangle of emotions weighing in her chest. Her imagination was already taking wing as she couldn’t help wondering what their date would be like.

She needed to get home and calm herself down, Kagome decided, racing up the remaining stairs with light feet. 

But even after she’d got home, taken a quick shower and changed into more comfortable clothes, she was humming to herself as she helped her mother prepare dinner.

She kept smiling to herself. Every chime of her phone made her jump, as she was desperately waiting for Mr Nishizuka to contact her, and she kept patting her shirt’s pocket where she’d stowed the business card she’d got. 

Her mother made comment of her good mood, but other than asking if everything had gone well at work didn’t press for more details as to what had caused it.

Souta, of course, as younger siblings were wont to do, wasn’t as considerate.

They were all sitting at the table, enjoying dinner, when Souta set down his chopsticks with a frown.

“All right, sis, spill it. You’re so cheery it’s getting gross, what gives?”

Kagome, suddenly put on the spot, squirmed in her seat.

A part of her didn’t want to tell; she liked how right now it felt like a secret just between her and Mr Nishizuka.

But she also didn’t want to come up with a lie, so after some fidgeting, she did confess.

“Someone asked me out on a date today.”

“That’s nice.” Kagome’s mother smiled. “Was it someone from work?”

“No, it was someone from Souta’s work, actually.”

Souta nearly spat out his drink. “What? Who? How do you know anyone I work with?”

“I met him a while back when you hadn’t come home and weren’t answering your phone. The security didn’t want to let me in so he interfered and helped me out, took me up to the office to see you. He’s someone from management, I think.”

“Who?” Souta asked again, looking a little ill.

“Nishizuka Sesshoumaru.”

“Nishizuka…” Souta sputtered. “Kagome, that’s not someone from management. He’s the big boss!”

“Eh?” 

“You have a date with the big boss?” Souta repeated, stunned.

Kagome felt just as confused as Souta looked. She reached for her pocket to pull out the card. It came out the flip side up, the side she hadn’t even noticed before.

On it, against a black background, was the familiar crescent moon logo and the name of the company Souta worked for, Luna Kabushiki gaisha.

Underneath were three simple letters that shook Kagome to the core: CEO.

Kagome stared at the card, still clutched by her shaking fingers. 

Wide-eyed, she looked up from it.

Souta met her gaze from across the table, looking pale and shocked himself.

“He’s the big boss,” Kagome whispered, and just like that the whole thing became wholly surreal again.

Being asked out by the CEO of a multibillion corporation? 

Definitely filed under things that simply didn’t happen to Higurashi Kagome and under unrealistic movie plotlines.

It did of course explain a lot of things – the way the security guards had acted, and why his name had sounded familiar. She must have read it in countless of newspaper articles written about him or the company over the years. 

It also explained why he had such a powerful and commanding presence.

Kagome tucked the card carefully back into the pocket, and then pushed the rice around in her bowl, her appetite vanished.

The butterflies in her stomach were working themselves up into a frenzy.

Half of her was giddy with excitement while the other half was absolutely terrified.

And yet, both halves were united in one aspect: Kagome really wanted to see Mr Nishizuka again.

Nervous as she was, now that she knew precisely who she was up against, she was still looking forward to the date.

After all, having your life suddenly turning into a movie only happened once in a lifetime, right?

  Sesshoumaru stood in front of the café, his spine stiff against the restless instinct to pace the sidewalk.

It was early evening in early October, but the weather was still mild – and cold wouldn’t bother Sesshoumaru anyway.

His sharp gaze followed the passers-by as he waited for Kagome to arrive. 

Sesshoumaru had taken a rare day off from work, just because of his date this evening.

Well, he had gone to work as usual in the morning, at first… But after two hours and three enormous coding mistakes and a big meeting where he had been unusually snarly, it had become clear he wasn’t accomplishing anything and couldn’t concentrate on work at all.

So he had gone back home to his apartment where he had been practically climbing up the walls while waiting for the hours to tick by agonisingly slow.

The very important preparations he left till the last minute hadn’t made the time pass any quicker, and in the end Sesshoumaru had come to their agreed meeting spot – a cute and trendy café Miroku’s fiancée had recommended – forty minutes early.

Sesshoumaru glanced at his watch again. Only six minutes left now.

Anticipation thrummed through Sesshoumaru’s veins.

He had never really felt this way, his emotions were a confusing knot of polar opposites all mixed up with one another.

He’d been planning this date for two weeks and was sure everything would be perfect. He also remembered fondly how flustered the miko had been when he’d asked her out.

So naturally, he was brimming with confidence.

At the same time, however, he really wanted to impress Kagome.

This wasn’t just a date to him; if all went well, this would just be the beginning. Deep down in his heart, spurred on by the wild insistent howl of his youkai instincts, Sesshoumaru knew he was playing for keeps.

That meant the stakes were high – the highest they’d ever been in his personal life. 

Besides, even a perfect plan could only help him so far, because things did not always go according to plan. And you could never really completely anticipate another person’s reactions. Certainly not with the insufficient data Sesshoumaru had been operating on. 

A sweet light fragrance pulled Sesshoumaru out of his muddled thoughts and he immediately stood straighter as he scanned the crowd, seeking his miko.

He found her quickly, his youki flaring in a delighted greeting. 

She noticed him, offering him a small, cute wave as she made her way towards him. 

Excitement built up like a tidal wave and Sesshoumaru's nerves hummed as age-old instincts, long dormant until now, rose to the surface. 

The time had come, for him to try and win over his chosen female.

She stopped a few yards away, and nervously straightened her jacket before greeting him with a rather formal bow.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head in return.

"Hello, Miss Higurashi. I'm glad you could make it."

"Ahh, please, call me Kagome." She looked up, meeting his gaze, her blue eyes holding him captive. "I'm glad you asked me out."

"The pleasure's all mine," Sesshoumaru told her, meaning every word.

She was blushing again, and Sesshoumaru was enraptured.

He gestured towards the café. "Shall we?"

Kagome nodded, and followed Sesshoumaru inside.

They made their order, and Sesshoumaru gallantry carried their purchases to the table Kagome had chosen.

She had opted for a hot chocolate and a slice of cheesecake, while Sesshoumaru had gone for the house blend with a double shot of espresso and some daifuku. 

They settled in, and after some initial silence loaded by slight tension, Sesshoumaru manage to coax Kagome into a conversation.

“Tell me about yourself,” he asked, his intent gaze studying her over the rim of his coffee cup.

“I’m not sure there’s all that much to tell,” she replied, shrugging.

“I think there’s plenty,” Sesshoumaru countered. “And I want to hear all of it.”

“Well, I’m twenty-four and a Tokyo native. I have a younger brother, as you know. Other than him, my family consists of my mom and my grandfather. I live at a shrine, which you probably know already, too. I work as a nurse at the Tokyo Metropolitan Children’s Medical Centre.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyebrow rose. “Really? You’re a nurse at a children’s hospital? That is very impressive, Kagome.”

“Oh, please. It isn’t half as impressive as your job, Mr Nishizuka,” she said, shaking her head.

“Sesshoumaru,” he responded immediately. “And I do believe that caring for sick and injured children has much more value than making video games,” he added.

“They’re not just video games,” Kagome replied, her blue eyes stormy in a display both of temper and passion. “You provide joy and entertainment. An escape to people. Do you know how popular handheld game consoles are with the inpatients at the hospital, especially those who require long-term care?”

Sesshoumaru sat still and silent. He could all but feel his attraction deepening at this show of emotion, at this impassioned defence of the worlds and stories he created for living.

Wholly subconsciously, tendrils of his youki were swirling around Kagome, brushing against her aura. 

She absentmindedly rubbed her arm, as if warding off a chill.

“The point is,” she said sternly, “that what you do is really important. More important than you probably even realise.”

“I could say the same to you,” Sesshoumaru replied, his voice warm with the tenderness swelling in his chest. “I have great admiration for you and the work you do.”

“Thank you,” Kagome said, her cheeks flushing.

“And I hope at some point I might be able to visit the hospital you work at personally, to see the difference you claim my games are making,” Sesshoumaru continued.

Kagome’s eyes sparked. “I’m sure that can be arranged, and then I can prove to you it’s all true!”

Sesshoumaru’s lips quirked into a smile.

“I will hold you to that, Kagome. It’s a date.”

The blush returned full force, and Kagome looked down at her her cooling hot chocolate.

But she was smiling; another sweet expression that Sesshoumaru engraved into his heart.

  When Kagome had taken a seat back at the café she had slumped in relief. 

She'd been a nervous wreck for the entire week leading up to the date.

She'd tried to read up on Nishizuka Sesshoumaru to prepare herself but had only managed to twist herself into tighter knots.

She'd fretted over her makeup and agonised over her outfit, which she had ended up changing twice before she'd felt confident enough to leave the safety of her room.

Confident enough that someone like her, an overworked and underpaid nurse, could truly walk arm in arm in public with a CEO whose net worth was counted in billions.

Seeing him standing there, tall and handsome in his long, dark coat, waiting for her, had set the butterflies flitting about in a frenzy. 

Her nerves had made an appearance though this time, instead of just blurting out any word coming to her mind she’d been all but tongue-tied.

But going into the café with him had set her at ease.

It had been a very nice place. Trendy, certainly nicer than a regular café. It’d had that distinctive mood some places just carried. 

Kagome had been positively surprised. 

It also hadn’t been one of those super upscale and insanely fancy places she’d been mentally preparing herself for.

She hadn’t felt like a fish out of water like she had feared.

She had felt… like a young woman out on a date with an attractive man in a very nice coffee shop. 

And she had smiled.

The evening had progressed much more smoothly from there.

The conversation between them flowed surprisingly naturally. 

That was probably because, for whatever reason, Sesshoumaru seemed to be genuinely interested in Kagome’s life, and asked several very mindful questions so he could learn all the more.

The hot chocolate was divine, and the cheesecake sweet.

Kagome’s smile came easily and her nerves had calmed by the time their cups and plates were empty.

“I was thinking we might take a little stroll next,” Sesshoumaru suggested. “Make some room for dessert.”

“Dessert?” Kagome laughed. “I just ate a slice of cake.”

“Trust me,” Sesshoumaru said, his golden eyes glowing with amusement.

Kagome shrugged, and with something in the pit of her stomach quivering, realised that she did. 

She put on her jacket and then followed Sesshoumaru out.

Evening had truly fallen now, but the streets of Tokyo were still busy and well-lit. They walked the streets, side by side, turning after a while to stroll along a river and then crossing a small park.

And as they walked, all the while a light conversation ebbed between them in a rapid-fire game.

“Favourite beverage?” Sesshoumaru asked.

“Hot chocolate,” Kagome replied, grinning. “Yours?”

“Whisky.”

“Favourite colour?” Kagome asked in turn.

“Dark blue. You?”

“Pink.”

And so it went, back and forth, punctuated here and there by quick side-glances, secret smiles, even a laugh or two. 

Eventually, they started moving towards a business district, and though Kagome was curious as to what their destination and the promised ‘dessert’ were, she held her tongue and followed Sesshoumaru’s lead. 

His plan started to become clearer, however, when Kagome noticed the lit sign of a company’s name built into the side of one of the towering buildings. 

“Really?” She said, slanting a sly look at Sesshoumaru. “Can’t stay away from work for one evening?”

“You’ll like it, I promise,” Sesshoumaru said, as he steered her towards the Luna headquarters. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kagome quipped, earning a smirk from Sesshoumaru in return.

He escorted her to the building, bringing her in through a side door he unlocked. They headed straight to the elevator, and Kagome couldn’t help a giggle.

“Don’t tell me you brought us here for old time’s sake?” she said as they entered the elevator.

Laughter lit Sesshoumaru’s eyes as he pushed the button for the top floor. “Not entirely.”

“If you say so.” Kagome leaned against the wall, remembering her first meeting with Sesshoumaru, riding up with him in this very same elevator.

She felt more comfortable around him now that she knew him a little better.

But his presence still had that mysterious edge to it.

“You know, I should have guessed that you were the CEO even if you didn’t explicitly tell me,” Kagome murmured. 

“How so?” Sesshoumaru asked, curiosity colouring his voice.

“You have this… aura, I guess.” Kagome shrugged, and vaguely noticed the elevator slide to a smooth stop. “I can’t really explain it, just something about you that I feel but can’t put my finger on it. Does that make any sense?”

He was silent for a while, and when Kagome looked at him, all signs of amusement had vanished from his face.

“That makes a lot of sense,” he said. 

For a moment, even in the bright elevator lights, Kagome could have sworn his eyes flashed.

A shiver slid down Kagome’s spine.

“You can feel that, can you?”

“I…” Her skin tingled as goosebumps erupted up her arms. “Yes, I can. What is it?”

“You were more correct than you even realised when you spoke of an aura,” he said, his voice soft and serious. “It’s because you are a miko in truth, Kagome.”

Kagome blinked. “What does that mean?”

Sesshoumaru sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’m about to tell you a very personal secret, Kagome. Something I would not usually share on the first date. But I trust you. And I feel like you deserve to know the full truth so we can pursue a relationship honestly. Because I truly wish to have a relationship with you, Kagome. A real one.”

Kagome’s words and breath caught in her throat. She was trapped by Sesshoumaru’s grave golden gaze, unable to look away from him.

Then, something in the air shimmered, shifted. Kagome’s nose itched.

And then, a gasp was torn from her, because Sesshoumaru…

Sesshoumaru had changed.

His hair had changed colour to a captivating silver-white. His eyes, his stature, his features… everything looked same and familiar as before, but odd markings now decorated his forehead and cheeks, vivid and startling. And his hands… Those could only be described as claws.

“W-what? What’s going on?” Kagome stammered. She hugged herself, as pressure built in the air around them.

“This is who I am,” Sesshoumaru said calmly. “A youkai.”

“A youkai?” Kagome said, her voice gaining another octave with this revelation. “Seriously? But youkai are a myth! They’re not real! They –” 

Something warm and electric flared in the air, and Kagome’s protests died.

She drew in a quivering breath. Another. 

“A youkai?” she repeated after a moment, in a strangled whisper. 

Sesshoumaru nodded.

“Yes. An inuyoukai, to be precise.”

Kagome’s fingers twitched.

Before she even registered what she was doing, she had already reached out to him.

Her finger ran along the sharp magenta stripe on his cheek, his skin warm and smooth under her touch. Until she had to jerk back with a hiss of pain when something like static electricity crackled to life between then.

Sesshoumaru’s expression didn’t change, but he did raise his hand to rub his cheek.

“And that is what it means to be a true miko,” he said, his voice wry. “Your kind and mine are polar opposites in many aspects.”

Kagome’s gaze darted between her finger and Sesshoumaru and she blushed furiously as embarrassment flooded her.

“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” Sesshoumaru reassured her, his voice gentle. He took her hand in his. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We will, huh?” Kagome muttered, shaking her head at his confidence.

But also, youkai or not, it was very flattering that he showed such interest in her. 

“Yes,” he said, tugging her along and leading her out of the elevator. “We will. And now to the surprise.”

“You mean there hasn’t been enough surprises yet for one night?” Kagome retorted, liking the way he so casually held her hand.

“Well, the surprise just now wasn’t planned, and this next one is much more pleasant,” Sesshoumaru said, pulling her after him through a door and to a staircase.

“Do you still trust me?” he asked, starting up the stairs.

Kagome stared at his back as she followed, her heart softening at the open vulnerability his voice betrayed.

Kagome squeezed his hand. “I do,” she said. 

And she meant it.

It would take her a while yet to really process everything she had just been told.

To come to grips with the fact that youkai were real and breathing and walking the streets of Japan. 

Longer still to accept it.

But she could tell already that it didn’t change all that much between her and Sesshoumaru. His personality stayed the same, as had his appearance, even – for the most part.

She really did appreciate honesty, and it had been a brave thing to reveal such a big and personal secret so early on in their acquaintance.

Sesshoumaru reached the top of the staircase. There was another door waiting, which he unlocked and swung open. Pulling his hand from hers, he gestured for her to go in first.

Kagome raised her eyebrows at him, but stepped out of the door.

Wind whipped at her hair. The skyscrapers rose around her, their multiple windows glittering against the dark night sky like stars. Above them, peeking from behind a cloud was the moon, nearly full.

“It’s beautiful,” Kagome whispered.

And then she saw what Sesshoumaru had prepared for her on the roof.

There were cushions strewn in the middle of the flat rooftop to sit on. A blanket spread out between them, on which a proper picnic had been laid out. Surrounding the scene there were at least a dozen lanterns, the candlelight glowing softly in the night, and also several potted plants, adding onto the atmosphere.

“Wow,” Kagome breathed, awed by everything she was seeing. “This is the dessert?” she asked, turning to Sesshoumaru.

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “It’s almost the time for Otsukimi, so I thought it would be appropriate.”

“I wouldn’t call this appropriate,” Kagome huffed. 

It was sweet. It was thoughtful. It was wonderful. It was impressive.

It was like one of those grand gestures that you might see in a movie.

She looked up at him and their gazes locked, tension humming in the air as they studied one another in the moonlight. 

And because Kagome was touched by the effort Sesshoumaru had put into the entire evening, because she was flattered by his obvious interest, because this date had proven to be even beyond her wildest dreams…

She decided to be brave, too.

Kagome closed their distance. She could feel his aura thrum stronger when she pressed close. His golden eyes were intent on her, never breaking their gaze, their connection.

Until she did, by closing her eyes, a fraction of a second before she brushed her lips against his in a shy kiss.

It had meant to be small and swift, but as Kagome’s heart started racing madly it evolved into something slow and soft and sweet instead. 

Or, at least, it was sweet, until that same weird static shock thing from earlier happened again, forcing Kagome to pull back with a rueful “owwww.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes were hooded. He was smiling, although it was a very dry sort of a smile.

“We really do need to figure that one out,” Kagome muttered, grimacing.

“We will,” Sesshoumaru replied. “We have plenty of time for that.”

Kagome slanted an assessing glance at him and smiled. “I guess we do.”

The look in Sesshoumaru’s eyes was so sweet and tender that Kagome had to turn away and briskly set her hands on her hips.

“Right then, I was promised dessert.”

Sesshoumaru’s chuckle was smooth and silky, the hand he pressed against the small of Kagome’s back warm even through all the layers of clothing she was wearing.

“Right this way, my priestess. Your banquet awaits.”

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Sister raped and murdered in 1972. And a European sister was raped during the 1973 Carnegie Hall campaign.

Dr Joseph Sheftick: Then I heard that the sister whom we had witnessed to on the bus team had been raped and murdered [in 1972]. Father said she was an offering and would go to a good place in the spiritual world.

‘40 years in America’ book, page 44

____________________________________

Hisako Watanabe: When I came to the United States, Father spoke to Mr. Kamiyama and he organized a team to go out and sell tickets for the Carnegie Hall speech—the tickets were about $2. We were a group of international brothers and sisters. A European sister was raped then [September 1973]. Sometimes it was dangerous. Sometimes people said, “Come to my apartment.” I knew it was dangerous to go with them, so I didn’t.

We had a holy ground in Central Park. Mr. Kamiyama gathered us there, and we reported every day. We sang and gave testimonies. We sold a lot of tickets and we had a lot of hope. But very few people came. Like the Bible, the guests were invited to the wedding but they didn’t come. Mr. Kamiyama said to us, “Go outside and get people to come in. Get anyone and tell them it’s free. Don’t sell any more tickets.” Anyone who was walking by we brought in. So then all the members came inside and took seats. We were so sorry to Father that we couldn’t bring people. This was our first opportunity to bring people, but it didn’t work. We had a good feeling, but the reality was so miserable. One old lady stood up and spoke up negatively. It was so intense.

‘40 years in America’ book, page 96

____________________________________

Dan Fefferman reviews the book:

40 Years in America—an Honest Appraisal of the Life of the Unification Movement (PDF)

The recently released 40 Years in America: An Intimate History of the Unification Movement is an important book for several reasons. First, although size doesn’t count in all things, this is a big, gorgeous book, comprising 602 pages and including an impressive array of photographs from the early days of the US movement to the present day. Second, it is indeed an “intimate history” that presents not only the grand actions of its messianic leader but also the trials, tribulations, victories, and reflections of its rank and file members. Third, and for me most important, it is also a self-reflective book with a refreshingly honest approach to the challenges that US Unification movement has faced so far and will face in the future. Credit for this impressive project goes to editor Mike Inglis for conceiving and coordinating it, to church historian Mike Mickler for the painstakingly researched and thought-provoking history that meanders through its oversized pages, and to designer Jonathan Gullery for making what could be a dry historical treatise an absolute delight to the eyes and heart.

... But one also reads of stagnation in membership growth, an American movement of an increasingly oriental character, division and disillusionment over the Zimbabwean Heung Jin episode, the bombshell effect of Nansook Hong’s book, and a movement facing demoralization even as its leaders proclaim victory after victory. Mickler’s analysis is too far reaching to deal with in depth here. Let me touch briefly on two aspects that I felt were particularly interesting. The first has to do with what went wrong with the movement in the 1970s. The second deals with where we stand as we look toward the future. As most long-time members recognize, the American Unification movement experienced substantial and rapid growth in the early 1970s, virtually doubling in membership every year from 1970-1974. Mickler offers an intriguing thought as to the nature of the brick wall we hit after that. He sees the experimental Barrytown training project in 1975 as symptomatic of a departure from the American tradition that had previously brought such success. He cites four factors: 1) the sharpening of in-out distinctions between the movement and world 2) an extreme emphasis on fallen nature and obedience to central figures 3) a counterproductive shift away from center life and toward individual pioneering by young members and 4) the creation of an unattractive sense of desperation that failed to bring about the hoped for Pentecost. But Barrytown was only one symptom of a larger problem. “To a large extent,” says Mickler, “Barrytown was a Japanese import... The Japanese outlook and modes of operation became even more pervasive in the church’s mobile fundraising teams.” The result was a new church culture. College-aged Americans took on a soldier-like demeanor that had little appeal to their peers. They wore ties while witnessing, spoke urgently of the dangers of Communism, testified less frequently to the joys of their international community, stopped singing popular songs in favor or oriental Holy Songs, and sometimes even spoke in stilted English with a Japanese accent. The American movement may only now be fully recovering from that cultural shift. Even as we create new federations, hold successful meetings, develop high level contacts, build media empires, and establish internal institutions for spiritual renewal, the fact remains that American Unificationism seems incapable of recreating the magic that enables new members to join. As he looks to the future, Mickler sees a movement potentially divided among four alternative approaches to its apparent failures: 1) those who critique the orientalization of American Unificationism and call for a stronger sense of continuity with American culture 2) those who see the problem in terms of lack of faith and seek spiritual renewal through programs such as Cheongpyeong 3) those who call for a renewal of a communitarian approach in which center life and other community expressions of the Divine Principle ideal are emphasized and 4) those who see the solution in terms of a realization of “elder-sonship,” agreeing that we need greater continuity with American culture but presenting this as a natural evolution rather than a criticism of the past. Of course, these categories are not hard and fast, nor are they mutually exclusive. And this only part of the story, about 20 pages out of a 600 page book. Mickler concludes on a hopeful note, looking to the future and the emergence of Hyun Jin Moon as the heir apparent to True Father who can realize the principle of elder-sonship. Mike Mickler is to be commended not only for a stimulating essay, but also for memorializing a tremendous amount of detailed history in what I found to be a highly readable narrative. Yet even if one never gets around to a thorough reading Mickler’s history, 40 Years in America is guaranteed to give readers many hours of enjoyment, reveling in past victories, mourning fallen soldiers who have come and gone, and pondering what the future will hold for our children and grandchildren. ...

_____________________________________

Nansook Hong, transcripts of three interviews, including ‘60 Minutes’

Nansook Hong In The Shadow Of The Moons

Black Heung Jin Nim – Violence in the Moon church

Christiane Coste was raped, stabbed repeatedly, mostly to the face and neck, and strangled in New York on February 24, 1978 while delivering The News World to her area in Harlem.

Jin-joo Byrne was raped and murdered in August 2002. 
She was just 18. She was fundraising on her own with costume jewellery in Charlotte, NC. Some time later it was arranged for Hak Ja Han, on a visit to Seattle, to meet the family. She was not very sympathetic. A Korean person understood what Hak Ja Han said.


The Purity Knife – Jen Kiaba

Hiromi Kazuni disappeared, and was likely killed, while fundraising.

Montreal girl (probably Ruthie) killed while fundraising for the Unification Church in 1977. She was hit by a car.

http://www.tparents.org/library/unification/books/40years/

[wisdomrays]

TAFAKKUR: Part 435

OUTER SPACE: MANKIND'S NEW FRONTIER: Part 2

C) SPACE MANUFACTURE

Although satellite communications and remote sensing are already very profitable commercial enterprises, space manufacturing is thought to have even greater commercial potential. As space is a relatively dust-free, micro gravity environment, it offers a unique laboratory setting for the development and processing of some complicated chemicals, pharmaceuticals, semi-conductor crystals, glass and metal alloys-indeed, production under micro gravity conditions is estimated to be up to 500 hundred times that possible on earth and with a degree of purity unobtainable on earth (Jericho and McCracken, 1986, p.802).The potential market sales for such products is reckoned at around $20 billion annually.

Additionally the relatively uncontaminated space environment is an ideal place for growing crystals used in computers, optoelectronics and ultrasonic equipment; for developing floride glass used in laser and fibre optic applications; and for producing new metal alloys as well as metals of higher purity and structural uniformity (ibid., p.803). In sum, the horizons for potential use of space are immeasurable.

THE ISLAMIC COUNTRIES AND SPACE ACTIVITIES

Our concern is to find out what the Muslims are doing or not doing in the face of the continued progress of the space-faring Christians (NASA, ESA), the Jews (Israel), the Buddhists (People’s Republic of China, Japan), the Hindus (India). It was declared at the beginning of the ‘space age’ that space would be a province all mankind. However, it is apparent that it is only the technologically advanced non-Muslim states who are ploughing in huge sums of money into aerospace technology and enjoying the benefits of the outer space environment. Muslims in general seem unaware of the fact that it is enjoined upon them to keep abreast of the latest science and technology and to be as equipped as the non-Muslims. For example, in Sura al-Mulk, God directs our attention to the Heavens:

‘He who created the seven one above another: you will see no want of proportion in the creation of the Most Gracious, so turn your sight again: Do you see any flaw? Again turn your vision a second time; your sight will return to you dim and discomfited, in a state worn out’ (67.3-4. See also 7.54; 13.2; 21.33; 36.40;51.7; 81.15.)

In the light of this encouragement, the Arab Muslims, from very the beginning of Islamic civilization reached the highest degree in astronomy. While the pre-Renaissance Christians thought the world flat, Muslims realized that it must be round and that it rotates on its axis. The Muslims in the Abbasid period detected many stars and constellations and gave names to them which are still used (See, for more information, Sharh al-Mawaqif and Ma‘rifatname by Ibrahim Haqqi of Erzurum; also, al-Hayat by Nur al-Din Batruji,d.1185).

Until the decline of the Ottoman Empire, Islamic scholars had been for centuries at the leading edge of study in astronomy as well as other pure and applied sciences. Even as late as the last 19th century, astronomy was an essential subject in the curriculums of the Ottoman colleges. However, some narrow-minded Muslims decried the teaching of scientific knowledge in schools and prevented Muslims from education. Their efforts were one (though not the only) reason for the relative decline of the Oriental world. This attitude degenerated further into the sinister view that any non-Muslim knowledge or equipment makes a person an unbeliever.

Vestiges of this barbarism remain to this day. To give an anecdote: I know of an imam who was recently accused by some peasants of being an unbeliever simply for informing them during a sermon delivered in their village that human beings had landed on the moon.

On the other side, Western propaganda has persistently labelled Islam as ‘backward’ and ‘unenlightened’, and imposed a feeling of inferiority among many Muslims-so that they find themselves thinking-‘The non-Muslims have walked on the moon, while we still walk barefoot on the earth.’ For over a century and a half, Muslims have been deliberately kept behind Western achievements. But the trust (amana) that God has bestowed upon mankind is most particularly the responsibility of the believers, the Muslims. Are we ready to live up to it?

God declares in the Qur’an: Before this We wrote in the Psalms, after the Message (given to Moses ): My servants, the righteous, shall inherit the earth. No one should doubt that one day this truth guaranteed by God’s oath will come true. An eminent Islamic scholar has read this verse to mean that the human stewardship will not be confined to the earth. Rather, those who become the trustees and masters of the earth will also rule over the remotest parts of the skies (Sahin, 1993). Naturally, such rule depends upon qualifications and quality. It is essential therefore that Muslims acquire the qualities demanded by the only Owner of the heavens and the earth. Even, this promise will come true to the degree that Muslims do acquire the requisite qualities (ibid.).

Are the Muslims indeed striving to get the requisite qualities? To a certain degree, yes. After the emancipation from the years of colonization, Islamic countries (particularly Indonesia, Pakistan, Iraq and Iran) began to educate their own experts in sophisticated technology. But colonization has been followed by a brain drain. Thus, it is reported that there are considerable numbers of Turkish scientists working in NASA’s space programmes.

With regard to space technology, there are incipient attempts by the Islamic countries. One such attempt is the Arab Satellite Communication Organization (ARABSAT). The Charter of the Organization was signed by twenty one Arab States in 1976. ARABSAT is intended to fulfil the aspirations of the Arabs have their own satellite system as a tool for socio-economic development of the region and for bringing about the transfer of technology. The ARABSAT space segment is composed of two satellites launched in 1985 and 1992, and located on the GSO at 19’E and 26’E respectively. But the organization does not have its own launching pads. Hence, it is dependent upon either the European Ariane or the US Space Shuttle. In addition to this, two Turkish Satellites will soon be sent to the GSO. TURKSAT project will be an important milestone in the communication of Turkic and Islamic countries.

Surely, the achievements of ARABSAT and TURKSAT are not promising in terms of scope and infrastructure. Islamic countries need to pool their scientific, technological and, more importantly, financial resources to set up an Islamic aerospace organization. Arab petro-dollars are wasted in Western banks when they could be channelled into this potentially lucrative area. The break-up of the USSR is an extremely good opportunity for the fledging Turkic Republics to collaborate with other Islamic states. The launch pads of the former Soviet Union were set up in Kazakhstan. Today the Kazakhs are waiting for customers. In the CIS, as Mikhail Osin said: ‘the pay of those who build spaceships is lower than that of a floor sweeper’ (Lemonick, 1993). The petrol-rich Arab countries could and should attract the space-engineers of Muslim states to work in the establishment of Muslim space programmes...

In conclusion, unless Muslims are prepared to face up to the necessities of the post-industrial era and to the requirements of a new century by investing their wealth on intellectual property and technology, never will the present Muslims walk on the moon, while the Christians will be left free to exploit the resources of the Universe not for the benefit of all mankind, but their own benefit at the expense of others. But, when God’s promised time due, the Crescent will surely embrace the stars.

[milkygcf]

All the King’s horses, all the King’s men

Pairing | myg x reader

Genre | Mystery, thriller, angst, slowburn, e2l, Gang Leader!reader, Detective!yoongi

Warnings | Graphic scenes, use of alcohol, use of drugs, gang violence, explicit language, slightly sexual scenes, social issues, major character death.

Summary | ❝ Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall- Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. Even with all the King’s horses and all the King’s men, Humpty could not be put back together again. ❞

or

❝ An ambitious man caught in thorns, drowning in the delicacy of what the world truly is - a whirlpool of chaos and terror. There, he finds his bitter downfall. ❞

Word Count | 3.1k

Author’s Note | Hello! I wanted to make a quick note about this oneshot before it actually starts. Firstly, I’d like to advise whoever’s reading this that this is just a summary of the actual fic which I will be releasing - however, I have not finalised a date. Secondly, it’s a tad bit rushed and messy and I apologise if it does not reach standards. Due to my personal life, I found that it was quite difficult to find the time to write as much <3 

To end everything, I would like to thank @ficswithluv​ for welcoming me into this wonderful project! I hope you enjoy reading <3

The delicate stomping of your feet upon the gravel startles the ravens sitting by. You stop in front of a familiar tombstone, your infamous surname nicely engraved in a fancy font. Before it lay a multitude of flowers, all speedwells as to symbolise loyalty towards the man buried six feet under. It's Valentine's day, and unlike the ravishing hues of blues and purples, you had bought roses to celebrate the event. If anything, you were always the odd one out when on with your business.

You set a few speedwells down, politely placing them into one of the empty jars left out beside the other swarm. It's overwhelming, the very site of your father's name placed in such a lowly place, finally resting beside your mother. It's overwhelming how in only a small amount of time, events took a wicked turn and brought along unnecessary chaos.

You face the neighbouring slate of stone set on the right side of your family's. This one's much duller and greatly lacking in vibrancy, attention. It brings a frown to your features. It's lonely, devoid of any proper affection that one needs in order to stay remembered.

Yet, even though it's desolate, it makes you reminisce. The sight of it doesn't bring you grief - neither does it bring you melancholy. Instead, it fills your train of thought with old memories that you either want to cherish or banish completely. Where forever was once a long time, it’s now a memory. Where pinky promises were depicted as something precious, you now notice that they were nothing but white lies to conceal the truth.

You’d learned this the hard way.

It’s truly surprising how so much can happen in the span of a year, how so many things are able to change and leave dead skin behind. The world is a delicacy of chaos and terror. Time offers only to take. It’s an ancient form of evil and you’ve grown to despise it for it works.

Now you’re left empty, shattered and dull. No longer do you symbolise the purity of a child whose eyes shimmered with innocence, with colour. When you thought you had already grown, you put yourself through trauma. And with a series of unfortunate events, you’ve finally, truly come to understand the world for what it truly is.

Beside you, a wounded soul whom you haven’t seen in such a long time laces his fingers with yours. He draws soothing circles into your skin and you finally breathe. Through thick and thin, you find yourselves here, together, breathing.

Maybe, there is hope for blemished souls like yours.

You met the unusual man at a bar. Although back then, you had no idea what really lied underneath the thick layer of skin that he dawned. The bartender had offered the both of you drinks, pointing out how utterly exhausted the two of you looked. That sparked up small talk – simple, small talk.

Until you were both sharing breaths in a bathroom stall, holding onto each other almost as if your lives depended on it. Every touch of his that settled on your skin burned, the pieces of fabric that your body dawned felt way too heavy. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, teeth biting down on his lip. His hands were on your hips, pulling you closer and closer onto his body until the warmth that was radiating off him made both of you break out.

Both your minds were hazy, your mouths tasted like a mixture of vodka and whiskey. It left a bitter feeling on your tongues. You were so lost in the feeling, the warmth that spread through you and shut out all your concerns.

His hands were playing with the zipper of your dress, fumbling hastily as to waste no time. It was almost funny how men could get so impatient. You were both speaking in tongues, merely pulling back to catch your breaths. His left leg was pushed right against your core making you more sensitive than your own good. You were grinding down on him, moans tumbling out of your mouth as they were muffled into the kiss.

Maybe it was just a moment’s talk, but even though you were barely doing anything, the feeling was euphoric.

He was trailing wet kisses down your neck, giving you the chance to finally catch your breath. Your skin was bruising, your core was pooling, and you were losing sense of reality. His hands were running all over you, making you feel something much greater than pleasure from a simple touch.

It all came to a stop at the sound of his phone ringing aggressively in his pockets, leaving you huffing out in annoyance. He didn’t just leave it and continue with his business; he fished the phone out of his pocket and stormed out of the stall while fixing himself up. There was no “excuse me,” or “I really have to take this.” He just stormed out of the room as if nothing was going on. It left you livid.

Park Jimin, your right-hand man, had to pick you up that night – helped you with your frustrations and worries, held you until you slept and didn’t wake up until dawn.

You were glad to think that you wouldn’t ever see him again, just a one-time failed fling in a population full of many. But your career begged to differ, as about a month or so after, he turned up to a meeting you held, custom-made for new recruits. Never will you forget the surprise on his face, when he found out that you were, indeed, the leader of the cartel. You, a normal woman at the bar, drinking her sorrows away in hopes they’d simmer and give her peace.

Although, you’d like to think there was something else beneath that surprise.

“A woman, as the leader of the sickest cartels in all South Korea?” One of the recruits spoke, a bitter tone hanging on his tongue. “How the fuck is it supposed to stay put?”

It was true that you had no idea how things were supposed to go in the industry – your father never really let you merge yourself with his world. But now, your father lay in a casket six feet under after being found dead in a ditch. You couldn’t really put it in a simpler way, but the only thing you could really say is you refuse to recreate an old nursery rhyme your mother used to tell you when you were just a toddler.

Nothing will stop you from reigning and getting back at whoever slaughtered your plans. You weren’t ready to tolerate anything in your way.

Hence why you didn’t hesitate to make Jimin shoot a bullet through his head, even if it terrified you just the slightest bit. But that was a different story.

Of course, it was no surprise. Women were still thought to be such fragile beings, not being able to handle anything. Once you stepped on top for the throne, you refused to let that put you down. “If any of you dimwits even so much as think about saying stupid shit like that again, I won’t hesitate to decapitate you.”

Jimin always kept his word. Because for the next year or so, whoever even uttered a single word about your command in the cartel faced death. You were never there to see it – Seokjin and Jimin made sure you knew everything that occurred, though.

On the other hand, there was that man you met at the bar. If it was possible, he would’ve disintegrated under your gaze. The dislike you had towards him was surely something grand, and to glitter it up a bit, he seemed to share the same feelings towards you too. Of course, in your defense, he had no reason to.

You weren’t the one who ditched in the middle of a make-out session.

Min Yoongi – he was something. A no one, but something, nonetheless. Ever since you saw him lined up with the other recruits, you’ve had your eye on him. As dumb as he acted, the man was cunning. Just what the cartel needed. Despite acting scared, like everything is all new, you felt as if it was nothing to him – almost as if it was all just a mask to conceal his true intentions. Although, you had no proof to this, so you let these accusations simmer.

His tale was cliché. He needed money but he didn’t have the qualifications to get a job. So, he joined the mafia, a very dirty place to get what you want. You ran background checks on him, just in case, and you found nothing of danger to all of you.

With a few weeks of training, Yoongi was fully accepted into the group and was one of Seokjin’s right-hand men.  

Passing by him in corridors, sitting in the same room with him, even hearing his name made your blood boil. It was unexplainable, but the feeling was mutual. Back then, if he disliked you, then it would only be fair if you disliked him as well. 

The tension was incredibly thick between you two, much that it left others uncomfortable whenever you were in each other’s presence. It was unbearable.

There was this incident once – you remember it like the back of your hand.

Seokjin had sent him to your office to deliver the newest packages that would determine how briskly your newest job was going to go. Despite begging the elder to send someone else as to avoid the awkward tension, the man refused.

The next morning, the raven-haired man was waiting by your door, box in hand. It took you a minute or so of plainly staring at him, observing the way his fingers twitch on the item, the way his eyes squint at you almost as if you were going to swallow him whole. It was quiet. No one said a word until you both entered your office.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again, as a fucking mafia leader.” he said.

“Ta mère ne t'a jamais dit de ne pas faire confiance aux étrangers?” you responded fluently, the accent rolling down your tongue briskly. Yoongi had no clue what you said, hence why you huffed and translated for him.

“I’m pretty sure your mother has warned you about strangers at least once in her life, no?” Your tone was calm, soft and delicate.

“She has. I didn’t think it’d happen with you though.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and rested against your desk. “Oh? I apologise then, even though I don’t recall being the one who’s acting arrogant.” As someone below you, he had to show decency, or he’d be thrown out with the dogs. “Arrogant?” he snarled lowly, plummeting down on one of the cushioned chairs placed in front of your mahogany desk. “You’re the one who’s been acting like a bitch all this time.”

“Best watch your tongue before I throw you out,”

“Do it then.”

He was faced with a gun to his head. You glared; finger firmly set on the trigger as you stared directly at him. No way were you going to let him get away with such a disrespectful attitude. He didn’t flinch, neither did he blink. He just stared back at you, slowly shoving his hands in the pockets of his tattered jacket.

“Don’t test me, Min.”

“You wouldn’t do it.”

Once those words tumbled out of his lips, you stiffened. Of course, you’d do it, why wouldn’t you?

“You put on a strong, independent persona but you can barely manage yourself.”

His words are what water is to fire. How dare he talk to you like that? Had he no fucking decency? Did he really want a bullet to pierce his skin in order to start seeing some sense?

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“Oh, I think you do. That’s you, isn’t it?” His head bobbed towards the painting behind you – the Ses Peines Pleurant Es, a painting your mother had created back in her days. It depicted the both of you against the world, against the pure wickedness you were forced to grow up in. There’s darkness, but in contrast to it, there’s you as a new-born dawned in white.

“What makes you think that?”

The metal felt cold against his skin and Yoongi couldn’t help but shiver. “That painting’s been missing for years, and now that it’s here, it has to be yours.” he spoke calmly, “And frankly, I don’t think I’ve seen someone wear that much white before.”

You looked down at your clothes, all white with no signs of any other hue. It was crazy, truly, but you don’t remember wearing any other colour growing up. Your mother always dressed you up in just white, telling you that you look best in it. You just never really took mind to the resemblance your fashion sense had with the painting.

“Must be a coincidence,” you hummed, lowering the gun down to his chest. “For which I think is none of your business.”

Yoongi only hummed in response. There was a strict silence between the two of you then, before you sent him back to whatever duties Seokjin set on his shoulders. That was one of the encounters you had before things started taking a slight twist.

An infiltration in the Children’s Medical Clinic of Seoul, where one of the doctors was the main leads to what exactly brought your father’s downfall. You remember how ruthless Yoongi was that day, mercilessly shooting at the man without hesitation, without sparing a single breath. It was crazy, hell, it was mad, but you enjoyed it. That only meant strength to the cartel, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

Although, you won’t ever forget the pained screams of children roaring in panic, the sudden stiffness in Min when the man dropped dead and painted the bleached tiles red.

From then on, the hate you harboured towards each other started to simmer. Seokjin and Jimin had noticed this when Yoongi started becoming more obedient, less cocky with the way he formed his words.

To you, this was relief.

But then things started to advance, the two of you started getting closer and before you knew it, you were having affairs late at night. When everyone else was at their respective homes, you were under silken sheets, legs entangled with Yoongi’s. You’d play with his soft locks as he told you his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell you his fears, what he’s always wanted to become ever since he was a toddler.

And you’d listen. You’d listen intently until both of you fell asleep, and you’d rake your brain until you unraveled what all the information you ate up meant.

Jimin started getting suspicions – he found pills in Yoongi’s house. There was no labelling on them, and you didn’t think asking him would somehow enlighten the situation. To make it far more interesting, later you found a multitude of phone numbers scribbled on a piece of paper in his pockets.

Yoongi started becoming strange.

He’d tell you things you were skeptical of, he’d do things you deemed abnormal. And then, he started telling you how someone was out to get you, and how one day he would be famous, people would talk about him wherever he passed by.

You’ve known Yoongi for a year – enough to tell that he was not the man he was before. He wasn’t so mental, he wasn’t a paranoid freak, neither was he so ambitious. Yoongi was just a normal man who needed something to do.

But then, he started talking in his sleep. Words tumbling out of his mouth one by one, telling you who he truly was, the man behind the façade he’d been showing you every day.  Jimin was never one to lie.

There was someone out to get you and it was him. He’d been a wolf in sheep’s clothing, getting closer to you in order to gain information to bring your very downfall. He revealed every little plan, every hidden camera scattered across the base, all managed by none other than the police department.

Humpty Dumpty had the King’s men to aid him, piece him back up and help him up the wall. But you, you had no one.

The man who had shown you what white truly meant, what innocence and happiness felt like, what being normal truly tasted of. Your first and your last love. Min Yoongi, the man who wrapped his hands around your heart and took advantage of what was bare.

Perhaps that was why your mother always teased you about being careful when dealing with boys.

You reminisce how it all went down on Valentine’s Day. How the waves hugged the shore lovingly, being complimented nicely by the dim light of the moon dawning on your silhouettes hand in hand. He felt cold. Yoongi felt distant.

A sweet, passionate kiss was shared that night. It filled you with false hope, chills. It painted a faulty picture in your head of what could have been but hadn’t been. That night, you held him close and held him dearly.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Your toes curled in the damp particles of the sand. Your fingers fell limp. “I love you most,” You muttered back, your lips trailing faint kisses across his neck. When you pulled back, you observed him. Yoongi had never looked so vulnerable in all the times you’ve faced him. Although, even if he was torn, in that very moment to you he was beautiful.

You remember the screeching of birds once you pulled the trigger, your skin and dress then painted in crimson. You remember the sheer surprise scattered across his face until he offered you a gentle smile and collapsed.

“Jour de la Saint-Valentin heureux, mon amour.”

You no longer wore white.

 ---

His name is engraved quite nicely on his tombstone. It still saddens you how barren it looks, devoid of any attention. Hence why you gently set the bouquet of flowers down, bowing your head in respect towards the man who brought you to a new world.

You’ll cherish his presence in your memories instead of forgetting them.

Even if Yoongi left without truly accomplishing his mission, without truly becoming what his desires were, he was deemed dead in vain.

Macbeth let his ambition eat him whole and it led him to his very downfall – the terror of seeing himself crumble and lose power.

Yoongi also was too over-ambitious for his own good. He let himself succumb to the control you were merely lending him, only to suffer the consequences and face his own undoing.

After all, Humpty Dumpty could never really be put back together again.

 “Happy Valentine’s day, my love.”

[wildwoods1]

Honoring the Sadhus who volunteered to be photographed and painted as a gift toward our Consciousness.

BLUE RAY: LEVEL 1 He was from another century, loincloth, and all. He appeared in the meditation as if Allen had slipped, tumbling from the stillness on his own. He did no such thing. This visitor was seeking him out and interrupting. It was important. It was LifeChanging. It was Blue, iridescent beams of Royal/Pthalo light filled the room!

“Dear Heart,” uncharacteristically, he addressed Allen with deep affection as well as respect. “I am here to bring you news of your unfoldment. I shall begin with our overall subject first. You are Blue Ray, this you know. You are also, however, a unique variety. You are Level 1.” Allen looked puzzled. He started to protest such a proclamation. The Sadhu continued “There are very few Blue Ray Level 1s, it is a rare type and one of the highest vibrations capable of incarnation in these dimensions as human.” Allen tugged at his beard, looked around the dim room now shy of light since the sun had just set. What was happening? What was he supposed to do with this information. He took a breath and looked back at the man sitting in front of him in mid-air, beaming from ear to ear, and saying “It is joyous, is it not?!” Before Allen could utter a word his new companion revved up once again to tackle the challenge at hand. “Rare, very rare! You see, if there are too many level 1 Blues on planet at the same time it will create a severe imbalance for the human population. The Stronger humans who are most likely to reach further in their Spiritual Journey could choose not to bother as much because they can now sense there may be no need; there are already more Blue 1s and the effort is not required! Psychological diminishment! Tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “we simply cannot have this. There are other reasons, to be sure. For now, let me say that there are many reasons for you to deny this possibility. I understand. You are concerned that you could not in any way be qualified! Yes?! “YES!” Allen blurted out as the panic began a slow rise from the pit of his stomach. “Most assuredly and unequivocally YES!!!! ….Oh God, yes!” he ended in a whisper. “Now, now, my son, you are in good hands. Truly, you have nothing to fear at all. While I may not seem to be much by human standards…. I am more than capable of your protection under any circumstance.” Allen stopped wiping his face and looked up. The man….the being, well, he was glowing softly, brilliantly. His voice, when next it crossed those few feet between felt like a silk cape with shearling collar around him and even though it was ‘only’ energy, it was the most comforting thing he had ever felt in his life. “Calm, my son. Allow me to continue.” “Blue Ray ones have a similar foundation but are all different. They carry a wide range of expressions. But what they carry in common is a unique assignment, each one to his own. They are highly sensitive, tend to withdraw from others and even though it is an uncomfortable life, they are ever-loving, with hints of purity, high creativity and a rather delightful cosmic hint of madness! They are not meant for the life of others. They do know anger and depression, whatever befalls within the human. They are here to serve in ways others are not. For example, while everyone is focused now on reaching into deeper work and connections, Blue Ray 1s are based in deeper connection, not merely developing the capacity but their very presence, along with others, helps create the depth itself. They tend to take on some of the more severe clearings of the collective and most will have difficult burdens from which to rise. Their sensitivities can be deceptive! They may have scars that make the immediate recognition of them quite difficult. You assumed you could not be such a being because you do not see yourself as this level of ability/capacity/mastery! This is truth.” “Yes, it definitely is!” Allen, not wishing to be rude, held back his auto-pilot protests. “That is because you have not been awakened. I see how humans regard this notion of being awakened: it is the means by which they become aware of the Ascension Process. Blue Ray 1s were born to Ascension process, yet, and I say this with caution and no care to inflate any assumptions, have been kept in a semi-stasis until time for the individual’s particular manner of extensive awakening. In order to qualify, you must complete much your personal clearing and then reset the extra

burdens you also carried. You will no longer “carry for the tribe.” (taking on some of the collective work directly) This must happen prior to certain self-revelations. Once completed, you will be introduced to your deeper skills and capacities, en toto.” “In your case, you are older, one of the very first. You were sent earlier than the Indigos to help clear/stabilize, and, should, if all goes well, have the blessing of being part of the Collective Rising. It will be harder for you, but you can do this. You can awaken in a way you feel inside of you yet never believed would actuate itself. At least not here….now….as this you!” “I will give you are few days to mull this over. And if you doubt this, well, what harm could it do to simply look for both me and the possibilities in the event something occurs that seems to overwhelm? We will be with, I assure you!” “Dear Allen, yours has not been an easy path. You are who you are and because of many factors, you never quite found purchase in your own power. Now you can. But give yourself this gift: know in your deep humility, your heart and soul are the breath of the planet, of this galaxy, this universe. Know that your hints of purity are being shaded from sight, your Love, which already shines bright, will rise to that of the Sun. You, my dear, beautiful Soul, along with all who follow the Light, are the templet and the gauge which the Great Ones said would come. You are not replacing the Buddha or the Christ…. however, given the depth of your true humility, you are their direct child and will soon realize with the Oneness of ALL, the fullness of them in you! We are the Oneness and in us, all Love shall shine. Because of the work of every soul, all can meet and Be Light. The Blue Ray 1s require the work of every other being to manifest their assignments. EVERYTHING IS INTERDEPENDENT. No one is of any greater status or value. So you can relax all of that foolishness thinking you are not “good enough” to fulfill such a work as this. It is yours because of that which the Source has used to accomplish the work, utterly free of ego. You are the sum of your parts and both the sum & those parts (the totality of your being) are now required. Time to collect all your bits and pieces to offer to the cause. It is as simple as that. IF any felt superior, their capacities would fade, leach out into the sand. That soul would lose their place and be replaced by another ready to fulfill the task. It would mean the result would not be the same! It would change with every adjustment the Whole is required to make. Not that those who fall would not be mourned, but the ego rulership has no place here. It cannot survive and is indicative of work left undone. But we are blessed with energy to smooth the way, as long as we accept the challenges, releasing the fears as we go, we will know the blessing of realization, Ascension. Ones know better than anyone that energy shy of the true depth required for certain projects of consciouHonoring the Sadhus who volunteered to be photographed and painted as a gift toward our Consciousness means the dream is not possible. They also know that without Infinite Joy, nothing will prosper! And that is the difference that the Blues make! The sense of All being great joy! They understand it in stillness and they know it in chaos in ways that penetrate not only the rabble, but the unspeakable center of the Pearl. They understand this and treasure it as an integral part of the depth required to meet transformation on every level of existence. It is why they can plunge into that great spring of Life and feel all the pain, rising again with a kind of interminable vigor that knows no end! That is its own joy! You, my dear being, known as Allen, and every other one of your kind, is privileged to tend the Spirit of the ones transitioning into the higher realms. You know better than most, without Joy, Light cannot be Love. So allow that to grow in you, my son. Allow Joy to lead, It will be as if your Soul has been partially holding its breath waiting for you

to come home to yourself, fearlessly and whole! It will now Breathe!! It will come forward in you in ways it has forever withheld its dearest expressions. You know now that what I am saying is not merely pretty words! They are truth. They are real---as are you! Pretty is nice. Always dive under the pretty—you know this, but I am saying that when your capacities begin to surface, never blink!!” he nearly shouted, which startled Allen. “See them all as nothing but the next step and the next. Never be impressed with what you can suddenly do— none is all you, it is all of us being through you!!! Think well on this!!! All of us through you! No ego can be heard/felt over such a din!! Imagine, the energy from much of the universe pouring through a few billion humans! And now we reach the crux of my mission today:…” The seeming man from ancient jungles of India uncrossed his legs and stood, walked around the illusion of a room and sat once again in the exact same space…different Now. “I have shifted this…you call it a Timeline? Yes, well, it is a different Now and you will learn from this place. You understand? Do you?” Allen’s mind, busy trying to run alongside the planet as she spun, looked up with a face that was understanding, then bewildered. “You are a being of many planes and dimensions. Sometimes, especially during transitions, your stability in one dimension is unreliable. I merely switched your timeline, usually adopted by consciousness, to a frequency more in harmony with your new material and the consciousness growth currently taking place. It was necessary for you to become aware of it for the information to find purchase in your psyche. To make it stick.” Allen nodded to indicate he had followed the explanation. “Let us imagine you have realized your new tasks and abilities, you are confronted with a particular challenge that requires, as you see it, immediate action before you are certain you are fully prepared to manage the work, but you have to try. Here is the process with which it will happen: you will be attuned to Universal, Divine, Holy (or whatever designation you give equivalent interpretation) of such energy. That is your connection. Then you will act according to the will of what you refer to as Highest Self dedicated to said Universal energy. This sublime Union has already taken place. The Highest Self and Universal Divine energy are already One. They have merely been waiting for you. At this point, you have been dedicating every cell and thought to this purpose. Your higher awareness practically leaks out of your cells and ears, you have light coming from your hands every moment. (he giggled) It is not a state of perfection. It is, however, sufficient to the immediate task and your thoughts have now reached a high neighborhood of expression (more often than not). It will be the Universal energy that actually accomplishes the work, of course. As with healers, you are a conduit. But now, there is greater consciousness in the Universal energy than before. It will be this which guides you even more precisely than your Guides do now. This energy is the sum total of All and it is developing such awareness as even humans can understand. It always has been this, it is simply evolving as you do! But it is Omnipresent and now grows in what you may call “both” directions”! It is easier for the lower vibrations to read some of its wisdom than it ever was before. To be a conduit of this energy, you must allow yourself to become this energy! Become, Be, Express and allow the fullness of it as you never have before. And isn’t it a gift that every time you surrender utterly to this energy, you become more of it. You evolve beyond what you were a moment ago! Is this not an extraordinary process!??? Is this not the high reaches of Joy!!!???? And by realizing the energy that passes through you is literally ALL OF US passing through you, imagine what your consciousness could do with this. There is no stopping anything now, if you are amenable. It is up to you. You may choose this version of your path, or you may

refuse. You will be given another chance, as many as it takes, though none quite as thrilling as this one. THIS Earth, this time, this now, is a unique process and it will never need repeating again. My advice, my dear, beautiful Soul, is to make the most of it while you can! It is GLORY! It is JOY! ……………….Any questions?” “What do I call you?” Allen asked a little bewildered and looking for whatever replaced his reason. “And yes—I do have a question.” He reached out to the napkin he had used earlier and once again wiped his face. Took a sip of water… a deep breath …before he looked back at the Sadhu. “The Sadhu laughed outright. You may call me Murma,” he replied with a crafty chuckle. Don’t worry about the meaning. It is nonsense. I am nonsense! Most other of the Sadhus find me outrageous!” “Thank you, Murma, thank you for a means to address you. My question”…. Allen’s voice drifted off…. “Uh, no. Well, Yes, I mean … here’s the thing: You are saying I should allow Joy to lead. But all that I have studied from teachers tends to encourage the student to release all thought, feeling, any indication of self from their contemplations, meditation, ways of thinking. They seem to consider something like Joy entirely too alluring or distracting to allow true stillness. So I don’t quite see what you want me to do.”

My dear Allen, do you know why there are Gurus and Lineages? Because each sees the Path to Realization as close to the individuals’ Soul as possible. No two people are going to have the exact same journey. It is very simple. It’s a custom job! Every step, every pause, every breath! Some will be their Soul through asceticism, some will be a beacon through the deepest love beyond the human references. Some will laugh, some will suffer beyond reason. For YOU the path is Joy. (It is not wasted distraction.) You will be, as a level 1 Blue, a being who plows the road. All of you are that. In your case, tending to the Spirits of those around you, your task is to help them sense…SENSE: that means silence, stillness, pure, focused in JOY! You do not think of Joy, you allow stillness in the silence. That is accomplished by your method to realize it. I am suggesting you find the doorway through the Heart, enter, and then release all else. Use all the discipline you feel appropriate. Then, once you have recharged and reconnected in a high frequency, realize that the way of expressing that Heart & Soul is JOY! Think of it as a cousin to Bhakti Yoga. Find your way through the disciplines. Understand? Try non-being! Work with it. The journey is accomplished through the heart to get to and release Soul from degenerating energy. Joy is an expression of Love! It will be the new fuel for the rocket!!!! It will be what powers the rocket they use to transcend conditioning and pain! They may arrive at this through Love, through Joy, Bliss, Creativity, Communication and many other endless means. But it will always be the Soul, speaking through the Heart for you! As much as you feel bonded to the intellect, you will Rise with JOY!!!!” He finished with a flourish and allowed a slight bounce of his body seated there in the air. His voice tilted upward like a bird, “UNDERSTAND???” “Yes, Murma. Allen closed his eyes as the power of these thoughts entered him like a waterfall. Sacred Water pouring in. Sacred Love pouring. Sacred pouring. It was all true and right. It was what he deeply wanted and had tried to change because he thought he was wrong, that he was not living up to the deepest, the most spiritual path! Waste, indeed! He felt the bliss as his gratitude overflowed on the return journey out/IN to the Sadhu… “I am already in you, dear Allen. I will be there and I will be here….I will be. No limits. Waste no time wondering where I am. I am ever, not where. There is no when. I AM. His voice trailed off as he dissolved from view, whispering “I am ever with you…”, the blue lights fading from the seemingly empty air of his room. Allen was in a state of shock. No thought. Nothing happening except on a very deep level, he could feel something like an origami paper bird….slowly, deceptively fast yet ever imperceptibly unfolding itself. There were no sounds, even if it seemed there should be, there was nothing to indicate anything beyond .....this. And yet…it was happening….. Now.

[constantwritingblock]

Stolen Worlds 6

Queen of Thieves: Takes place just after the MC breaks up with Nikolai.

Avengers: Takes place during The Winter Soldier, but with additional characters.

Uncle!Nick Fury x reader, (previous) Nikolai Stirling x reader, (eventual) Steve Rogers x reader.

Some statements:

For any other languages spoken in this piece it will be done in bold and in English so that you are aware characters are speaking a different language. I find this easier than finding a bad translation.

So I being a daft person, thought this was set in New York and it isn’t so I have gone back to other chapters that have mentioned if Y/N was in New York to Washington DC. If there are any that I have missed out please let me know :D

Summary:  Nikolai has been struggling to deal with not reaching Y/N in time and has come to terms with his feelings. Meanwhile the trio are setting up the big fight of their life to try and take down Hydra’s plans, including the launch of the helicarriers. Y/N makes the ultimate decision and decides that she can’t hide her true self anymore...

Things had been heated with the Poppy what with Remy’s vague confession. Even though Nikolai trusted and believed his longest friend, something wasn’t adding up. He noticed all the gore that appeared to follow wherever they turned when looking for Y/N. It drove him insane to think of what she was taken into. As the others prepared their next plans in search of her, he found himself at a park which resembled the one where he first met her. The way her purity caused him tunnel vision, she was a lot more innocent compared to him. How no matter what hurt her, she still wore her heart on her sleeve. It was surely something he hadn’t expected off of her.

Yes, he had been watching her before they made contact to see if she was the right choice to join the Poppy, but there was something from her personality that caused his heart to soar in ways he had never felt with any of his previous partners. Perhaps it had come to his notice that he actually did love her and was ready to let her in through those walls he had built up over the years. Though one thing he found baffling coming the end of his stroll, was Remy speaking to a young woman, someone he had recognised. The conman couldn’t have possibly lied to him could he?

———

Chaos had ensued when hearing the alarms and the voice of Steve Rogers coming through the tannoy systems, Y/N’s eyes widened at their plan, having no clue on what was going on, all she was aware of was that the Council to agreed to the idea of Project Insight. Posing as his assistant, she stood still as he offered each Council member a drink of champagne to celebrate, though one wanted to disagree, it was all halted when the only female council member revealed herself to be Natasha Romanoff.

“I’m sorry, did I step on your moment.” A hint of a smirk ghosted Y/N’s lips, but she remained stoic as Pierce was disarmed and spouted off stating that she needed someone of a higher clearance level, to stop everything. Hearing the sounds of a chopper, Y/N’s head turned to see Fury stepping out of the helicopter, dramatically walking over to force Pierce to open access for them to unlock S.H.I.E.LD.’s database to leak everything.

Though he tried to gain the upper hand, by admitting on an electrical shock system that will simply hurt Romanoff, Y/N had to do something. “Pain…” A quiet mutter under her breath was all it took for Pierce to wither from his confident position, crumbling to the floor. As the shock settled within him, Natasha took that as her opportunity to move out the way, “You were saying sir? Or… are you just not happy I am not complying to your demands?” Sarcasm dripped venomously in her voice as she spoke to her faux boss. His eyes widened in absolute horror as he had finally recognised just who she was. “The experiment that… you escaped…”

BANG! A gunshot rung out as her head snapped towards Fury. He simply nodded at her, “Go, we got this from here.” Mustering her strength, she attempted at teleporting as close as she could to the last helicarrier. Landing on the ground, she are frustrated, images of Rogers and Barnes fighting each other for the microchip. Almost at a wits end until the sound of a chopper and gushing winds behind her caused her to be befuddled. “Leon!?” It was as if he knew she was going to react that way as he merely chuckled offering her a ride up, mentioning he owed Remy a favour. Kissing his cheek, Y/N smiled in thanks and left him as he flew off.

As people of all sides tried to shoot at her she merely flicked her hand over causing them to miss, making herself a beeline to Rogers and Barnes.

———

While Leon landed the helicopter he hot wired, the rest of the Poppy came running towards him. “What the hell is wrong with you Kwan? Why did you just take off like that without a word when shit has hit the fan!?” Ignoring Jett scolding him he simply shrugged, “Was helping out a friend real quick.” Nikolai’s brows furrowed until everything clicked into place. Y/N…

By this point Remy had decided to come clean. “She knew the risks of it and though as much as would’ve liked for us to avoid it, it was inevitable. She didn’t want any of us to have any blood on our hands. It was her old life to escape from, never be brought again but of course it’s hard for her when her family is on the line.” His insight was helpful but not that much. Nikolai was determined to convince her to come back, hell, he’d get on his knees and beg her to, admit his mistakes and perhaps then they could sort things out between themselves more privately later on.

However, his ideas came crashing to an end upon the feeling of a pendant in his hand. Her Poppy. “She wanted me to give this to you Nikolai. Gives her thanks but her life is in more danger than ever right now. She’s betrayed one of the most dangerous and terrifying terrorist groups known to the world. Not even we can keep her safe.”

Closing his fist around the necklace, they all watched in solemn silence as the last helicarrier went crashing down. The urge to go after her and save her was evidently there but he knew better, this was what she wanted. He was a gentleman after all, he will respect her wishes and just hope they may cross paths again one day.

———

The fight had come to its absolute limit, though the pair were pretty evenly matched, Bucky had the advantage of his vibranium arm in comparison to Steve’s shield. “Soldat! Soldat stop! He’s your friend. Please…” She really did try to keep her voice strong but her pleas weakened it. When the Soldier was more sober to his own thoughts he would be easier to speak to, but here was a different story.

“He is my mission. I must complete my mission.” Those words broke both hers and Steve’s heart. Y/N knew it was pointless to try to reason with him herself now. Glancing over to Steve, he nodded in understanding.

“SOLDAT! I never told you your name. It’s James Buchanan Barnes.” Freezing in his tracks he had spun around to face the woman. “You preferred people calling you Bucky.” A flash of recognition in his eyes had caught him but then a fit of rage hung over him, acting quickly Steve used himself as a barricade to stop the Soldier from hitting her. A gasp broke out in fear of Steve’s life, but he then stood up and checked her over, simply telling the man in front of them he wasn’t going to fight him.

Dropping his shield through the broken pieces of the helicarrier as it was falling to the ground, Y/N slipped her hand in Steve’s giving it a squeeze. Giving him one more chance, “He’s your best friend. Trust me please… I was honest with you about how Hydra did the same to me.”

The impact of Steve’s hand being snatched off of hers was strong, so strong she fell as well.  Her mind began to focus on one thing and projected it into Bucky’s mind. She had  never tried this before but had managed to complete the process just in time and so it was a one shot chance or both she and Steve were dead.

“You’re my mission.”

Free.

“Your.” Punch.

Empathetic.

“My.” Punch.

Seventeen.

“Mission.” Punch.

Nightfall. Ice. Nine.

“Then finish it.” Steve mumbled out. Eyes widened as Y/N could only hope that this worked.

Hostile. Departure. One.

“Cause I’m with ya ’til the end of the line pal…”

Flying car.

Just as the last trigger word had been said, Y/N watched as the Winter soldier became no more and Bucky Barnes was somewhat there. She noted that he held more hesitation to continue on with his brutal beating on the Captain. Reading his mind, she could see the memories flicker through of him and Steve. Tears dripped from her face as she suppressed the joy that it worked. But before anything else could be done, a part of the structure of the helicarrier had collapsed hitting the surface the trio were on plummeting them into the Potomac River.

Water surrounded Y/N’s airflow and so she didn’t have enough time to even protect herself or Steve before unconsciousness settled in, all she vaguely remembered was being dragged onto land, given CPR and a quiet mumble of ‘thank you’ before the brief feeling of a hand stroking her face momentarily. Then it was quiet.