#in which one tries to beg the forgiveness of a soul long departed

[thecrimsonvalley-creates]

~ Constellations at midnight ~ Can I interest you in some Peter Stamatin anguish? Here you are! :D

[maudeeloise]

God i need a part two of Sworn Enemies

The reader tells the whole situation to rhaenyra who is very disappointed that her son denies his own child because of an absurd rumor.

The reader wants her to dissolve the marriage but rhaenyra tells her to make jace beg for the reader's forgiveness and jace does anything for the reader's forgiveness.

I want the reader to be a complete girlboss 💋☝️

Pleas of Pardon || j.v

Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warning : none

A/N : soooo… i changed some parts a bit, but the plot is still the same. this is the second part of this

You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen Jace — not that you were protesting, but a small part of you hoped for him to at least apologize before completely disappearing.

When your family first arranged you to marry Jace, you were left with no choice but to accept. The only hope left in you was for him to spare a chance for the marriage to work, even though you knew it was far too impossible to happen. That hope instantly vanished the same night he departed.

Not a single soul in the kingdom knew where he had gone. You were too ashamed to ask so the best you could do was to eavesdrop the whispers of the servants when you had your morning and evening walks around the castle. It wasn’t your fault, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed of yourself.

I failed, you thought to yourself as you pictured how your parents would perceive you once they heard about the rocky marriage you had with Jace.

“Where had the smile I used to know gone?” Rhaenyra asked as she came to sit next to you one afternoon at the staircase. Her eyes were filled with pity. Her smile was small. “I have missed the joyful lady who loved to retelling our people’s myths.”

You shook your head, looking down at your hands as you played with your fingers. “There’s nothing for you to be concerned about. I’m alright.”

“The whole kingdom has heared, don’t you think I haven’t?” Rhaenyra hinted a sad smile.

You shook your head, still avoiding any eye contact with your husband’s mother. “Am I a bad wife?”

Rhaenyra smile instantly fell at your words. “What do you mean? Have you done something?”

“Not that I could remember.” Your vision became blurry as the tears formed in your eyes. “I’ve tried to fix our relationship, but it’s difficult when we both know we loathed each other. I’m sure you’re familiar with that too.”

“The marriage has been done—“

“I figured that it’s best for the marriage to be dissolved.” You looked up to Rhaenyra. Your teary eyes met her surprised ones. “For the sake of ourselves. I’ll leave the land if it is needed, but I’m asking for you to let me raise the baby.”

Rhaenyra’s mouth was agape. She blinked a few times as she processed your request. “I-.” Her gaze moved elsewhere. “I’ll talk to Jace.”

“And the marriage?”

An answer you longed to hear never came as Rhaenyra stood up and left you sitting on the staircase perplexed.

Her name was stuck on the back of your throat. You wanted to call her and made her stop on her track. But instead you let out a sigh in defeat. Your body leaned against the wall weakly. Your hoping eyes stayed at Rhaenyra’s figure as she slowly disappeared behind the walls.

Lost. A word which best described your state. You were so used to having your sister by your side, supporting your needs and guaranteed you the happinnes you deserved. Then when you were on your own, you could only pray to the Gods, hoping for everything to go well, but instead it went the opposite.

Your arms hugged yourself tightly as your body balled against the wall beside you. A symbol of fear and loneliness.

Tears were threatening to fall as your breathing quickened. Your mind rushed with voices, mostly telling yourself how you couldn’t do a simple job and how you should’ve lower your ego.

You held your legs tighter to your chest as you silently sob. The sound of your soft cries echoed through the empty staircase and hallway. You couldn’t careless, you just needed someone.

The voice on your head kept screaming in your head until it hit you. You were on your own. You had no one, but yourself and your infant needed you.

Slowly, you unwrapped your arms from yourself. Your legs stretched out carefully before bringing yourself on your feet. Your fingers grazed across the stone surface of the wall as you walked towards your chambers.

You needed to leave. You needed to run away. You needed to safe yourself for the sake of you and the baby.

You jogged around the room as you collected all the little things that you felt like you needed. All the items were shoved inside her pocket bag.

“What am I missing?” You mumbled to yourself.

Your eyes scanned around the room to bring yourself the answer you needed. They landed on the wine bottle which was standing on your nightstand. A lazy smile danced on your lips before you brought yourself towards the object.

Just as you were about to get your hand on the bottle, the door to your chamber cracked open. Your head spun towards the source of the sound. Your eyes stared in horror at the thought of getting caught in the act. A long shadow of someone walking in to the room made your heart skipped a beat then it stopped when your eyes met his.

Your body froze on it’s place. A look of horror masked your future, but you slowly calmed once you studied his face. His sad eyes and almost pouted lips made you barely recognize the man standing on the other side of the room.

“Jace.” You breathed out.

“Y/N.” He called under his breath.

There was a long pause, each waited for the other to continue, but neither said anything.

Jace knew he was wrong, despite how much he hated you. A small part of him kept telling him to talk to you after that night, but he had to big of an ego, so he chose to avoid you instead of apologizing.

What he didn’t expect was for his mother who loved him dearly to side with her. At that point he knew he had to talk to you. He had to admit that he was wrong. He had to apologize and maybe more or anything else to get you to forgive him.

“I-“ Jace cleared his throat, slightly avoiding your eyes. “What are you doing?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Anger slowly increased inside you as you feel your heart clenched. Is he bluffing?

“Nothing.” You kept your voice low, trying to control yourself from bursting out at him.

Jace awkwardly nodded before moving his gaze anywhere else but you. He suddenly found the chamber interesting whilst he studied the room.

Something didn’t feel right, he thought.

His eyes saw the small pocket bag on the couch, the cloak on the bed, and how your body kneeled too close to the bottle on the nightstand.

“Are you planning to leave?” Jace asked, his voice was laced with a hint of dejection.

You almost gave in. Almost. The way his face fell and his lips turned down into a frown. How his eyes showed longing and regret. You almost changed your mind.

You inverted your gaze from him slightly and fixed your posture. As you turned to face him, you forced yourself to show no emotion. He needed to know he deserved it.

“And what if I am?” You challenged him.

“You’re taking our baby with you!?” The frequency of his voice hightened, making the sentence sounded more like an accusation than a question.

“That’s not fair.” You whispered. “You accused me of cheating and held to your beliefs that the baby isn’t yours! How dare you include yourself on deciding whether the baby should be with me or not?”

Jace opened and closed his mouth, stopping himself from taking the argument further. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

“My apologies.” You raised an eyebrow. “I shouldn’t have accused you despite how much I hated you. I was too blinded with my emotions and I forgot that you have feelings too. I deserve every second of your loath for the rest of my life, but I’m begging for you to stay. Please, don’t leave. Please don’t take the baby away from me. I’ll do anything, I promise!”

There was a long pause. You looked down at your hands as an excuse to dismiss him from your view. You didn’t say anything, as if you were waiting for him to say more.

“Please say something.” Jace took a step towards you hesitantly.

“I need a moment.” You said shortly without bothering to give him a glance. You stood up and walked past him, leaving your shared chambers.

———————————————————————————

@semisutopia @anehkael @kaiawolf @maddie-jayne @shadowmoonlight0604 @aemondwhoresworld @cedigz

[arhvste]

❝ kuroo tetsurō - rate-a-child ❞

in which kuroo takes a more refined but catty approach towards having his say on your daughters ex boyfriend leaving her in tears

an - sorry this took so long to get out, this went hand in hand with the hcs i did that’s why it’s a little late seeing as i changed the concepts for oo of yesterday’s work !!

tetsu week masterlist

“i’ll kill him.”

“you’ll do nothing of a sort.”

“i meant with kindness.”

“kindness my ass, the look on your face says it all!”

you were currently in a hissing match between yourself and your husband as you stood outside the bedroom door of your 16 year olds daughter who was currently curled up under her sheets which were damp with tears.

the catalyst to the situation was when your daughter first slipped in through the front door and failed to greet yourself and her father as usual. you hadn’t missed this as you poked your head out of the living room only to see a pair of legs stagger up the stairs without much care placed in each step.

“tetsurō, is she okay?” you whispered nodding towards the door your daughter had just entered through from school.

“i couldn’t tell you, she didn’t look in my direction.” kuroo raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his laptop screen briefly towards the hall.

“i think i’ll go and see.” you muttered as you dropped your phone onto the couch and headed towards the staircase.

“i’ll come.” kuroo got up ready to stand only to halt when you shot him a piercing look.

“this is mother-daughter time i think.”

“aw don’t be like that! why can’t i be included and see what’s wrong with my little girl?”

you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“because i don’t think she likes how you baby her so much. she’s independent tetsu, we have to accept it. just let me talk to her first and you can come up in a few minutes okay?”

“guess you’re gonna have to take her amounts of babying in her place then.” he pouted to which you let out an airy before heading upstairs to your daughters room.

you knocked and waited for the signal to come in but it never came. you tried again and still no reply. pressing your ear to the door you heard soft sobs coming from inside as your heart rate sped up.

“i’m coming in” you quietly warned before gently opening the door, your daughters saddened form right before your eyes.

“oh!” you rushed over to her side and pulled her weak state into your arms as you sat on the side of her bed.

“baby what’s wrong?” you cooed stroking the hair stuck to her face as a result of wet tears dripping down her face.

“-he -he dumped me.” she hiccuped as more tears dropped down her face.

you frowned silently to yourself as you racked your brain for an appropriate response.

kuroo had been your first and only boyfriend so you had never been broken up with before so you couldn’t understand the pain she must’ve been feeling. for now, rocking her back and fourth and calming the crying seemed like the best option until you could think of how to approach it without looking too aimless.

as if the heavens had opened their gates specifically for you to grant any wish you so much desired, your husband entered your field of vision in the doorway as his eyes softened at the two of you.

“so much for mother-daughter time.” you tutted and kuroo softly smiled before approaching the two of you.

“i know you’re relieved i’m here, it’s written all over that pretty face of yours.” he replied he took a seat on the other side of your daughter.

“can you not flirt while in front of me whike i’m going through my first teenage heartbreak!” you daughter snapped as kuroos eyes widened.

“heartbreak?” you sent a pleading look his way as if to beg for him to say something to attempt damage control.

“o-oh i mean, heartbreak yes. well, i’m just waiting on you to confirm it was that ugly boyfriend of yours who did it so i can take matters into my own hands.”

you glared at your husband who now had a small fire ignited in his eyes.

“it was. -but please don’t say anything! i don’t want this to be a thing!” you daughter tugged at your husbands arm pleading him to keep this to himself.

“no can do. princess, you’re crying. i never want to see you cry especially over some boy who’s league you were well above anyway!” he scoffed as he got up to leave.

“don’t worry pretty one, dads gonna get him back for ya!”

“tetsu don’t-”

and with that he shut the door behind him, leaving you to scramble to your feet offering an apologetic look to your daughter to which she dryly laughed and waved off her fathers antics. you hastily dashed out the room to grab kuroos hand before he could get any further down the hall which was where you were presently questioning your husbands motives.

“y/n, let me go please.” he whined as you held his arm tighter.

“and if i do then what?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“then i’ll get revenge for our little girl.”

“then i’m not letting you go.” you quipped back frowning at him.

“makes no difference to me.” he sighed using his other arm to scoop you up easily off of your feet and out of shock you let him go.

“tetsurō! let me go! i want no part in this!” you hissed as your husband carried you down the stairs and into his home office.

“why are we in here?” you quietened down once he placed you on the plush black couch in his work space.

“you didn’t seriously think i was going to actually show up at his house or something did you?” he grinned as he sat upon his desk chair to fire up his desktop.

“yes.” you honestly muttered, raising an eyebrow towards him.

he cackled and shook his head before motioning for you to come over to which you found yourself obliging to.

“look, i’m not gonna be too embarrassing speaking for her but i think you’re gonna want a say in this eventually.” he explained as your confused face only stuck as you watched him open his emails.

he typed in the email address of your daughters ex boyfriends parents. you knew you had their contact details as they had requested your husband help them get their son into the sport industry to which kuroo very reluctantly agreed to, only because you insisted.

kuroo was never a fan of the boy. he knew from the first time he met him that he would cause trouble and as much as he’d like to have his ‘told you so’ moment, he knew that it could wait. he’d prove his point another way instead.

‘dear mr and mrs whatever your last names were, i’ve forgotten it already,’

you flicked him on the arm for that but something told you to let him continue as you silently fed off of the pettiness yourself.

‘it’s come to my attention my suspicions about your ‘boy’ were right. he is in fact a trouble maker and i should’ve prevented him from getting involved with us from the very start when i first had a hunch.’

kuroo typed with such precision and passion. you had never seen him so into an email before and you weren’t sure whether you should’ve been concerned or not.

‘i first had an idea of what sort of person your son was when my daughter for some reason brought him over for dinner. his manners? comparable to a farm animal. who eats with their mouth open?’

humming as he typed, kuroo mentally listed all the time he didn’t like the boy which wasn’t exactly hard since you knew he had disliked him from the very start and while right now your daughter might’ve been upset and distraught, he was silently happy that he was finally out of the picture.

‘another thing i find closely similar to a farm animal in him is his hair. i don’t particularly understand why you allow him to leave the house looking such a state, but you’re certainly not doing him any favours by doing so.’

you snorted reading this one as kuroo glanced up at you.

“i think that’s a bit rich coming from you.” you hummed as your husband snickered.

“my hair and his hair are two very different situations. mine is unintentional and you love it. his... well, his is just straight up ugly and he intentionally styles it that way.” kuroo replied before turning back down to face the screen.

‘i remember the first time i enquired your son about his very ‘unique’ hairstyle and he scoffed in my face and told me it’s what was currently ‘trendy’. forgive me if i’m wrong, but a trend is a pattern multiple people follow and make normalised no? i haven’t seen another soul wander around with the same bizarre mop on their head as your son, perhaps a dictionary is in order to be purchased for your son so he can educate himself on what a ‘trend’ really is, because no sane being would follow along with his atrocious aesthetic.’

your eyes danced over the screen as kuroo typed it up so flawlessly, it was as if he had revised everything he’d been wanting to say for months which in all honesty, wouldn’t shock you considering how vocal he was speaking against your daughters then boyfriend.

‘so not only is your son lacking in the aesthetics department but also the personality. i’m not quite sure why he thinks his rude tone is normal, but it’s not. why does he act like owns the place whenever he visits my house. i hate to make assumptions, but your boy isn’t bringing any income to the table is he? so tell me why he acts like he does whenever he comes over.’

the irritation deepened on kuroos face as he recalled all the times the boy would come over and treat the house like his own. his shoes muddy and left in the middle of the hallway, his feet always propped up on the coffee table centred in the living room by the couches, no greeting or acknowledgment when he’d come in, he’d simply come in and head straight upstairs to your daughters room. kuroo was agitated each and every time but held his growing aggravation together at the insistence from you that your daughter would come to her senses soon enough and dump him. the outcome is technically what yourself and kuroo had wanted, although, the two of you were confused as to why your daughter was crying over someone so inferior. nevertheless, you were both internally relieved it was all over now.

‘while i know your son is still growing up and such, i do think 16 years old is a little concerning for him to not know manners. this is exactly why i was reluctant to help him into getting into the professional sports industry. both yourselves and your son were demanding of my assistance however, let it be known msby weren’t fans of your son and his awful mannerisms in the slightest so i wouldn’t prepare myself to cheer him on at their stadium anytime soon so hold your breaths.’

kuroo recalled the few times he brought the wretched boy to work with him only to suffer at the hands of secondhand embarrassment. he was rude and obnoxious towards the staff and had provoked several of the players leaving kuroo to apologise in his place and guide him as far away from the pros as possible.

‘i’m glad myself and my family are finally able to wash our hands with him. i didn’t like him and my wife wasn’t too keen either. teach him to do better than this. while i’m bothered by my own daughters current state of upset, i know her tears will dry quickly once she realises what a waste of time this all was. i don’t want a reply, i want an improvement from your son. don’t let him treat his next girlfriend (if he’s lucky enough to get one) the way he treated my daughter and i think basic manner instructions and examples are required for him to start an improvement.’

your arms draped over kuroos shoulders as he gunned finishing his email.

‘my daughter will move on quickly from this, i have no doubt in that, but teach your son what it means to be a responsible man and reshape the strange looking piece of clay of a child you’ve moulded him into. there’s still hope (if you’re optimistic). overall, i’m rating your child 2/5 stars. he was reliable but that’s the only good thing he had going for him. take my constructive criticism and work on improvements for the future! yours sincerely, kuroo tetsurō’

with a slighter harder press on the final letter of the email, kuroo clicked a few options on the email and wasted no time in hitting the ‘send’ button before exhaling.

“that was... something.” you muttered as kuroo turned to face you on the office chair.

he laughed softly before pulling you onto his lap and leaning in. his hot breath ticking the back of your neck as he spoke.

“i think this is going to shake them more than a visit to their house won’t it? i’m sure an email is the last thing they’re expecting.”

you leaned back into his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed soft kisses to the back of your neck.

“i hope one day, she finds someone who’ll love her the way you love me.” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut.

“i know she will, she has your good looks and my sharp wit, i don’t have a single doubt she’ll find someone as good as her over time.” kuroo murmered his kisses ceasing for a moment.

the two of you sat there in contentment for just a moment before you pulled yourself from his grip and stood before him offering your hand.

“boys can wait, the only boy she needs in her life right now is sat right before me and i think she needs him to come and comfort her with me for now.” you softly smiled as kuroo smirked.

“so, i finally get an invitation to mother and daughter time?” he leaned further back in his chair, sharp features only more defining.

“looks like it.” you confirmed as kuroo reached for your hand.

“then, i gladly accept.” his calloused hand took in your own as you tugged him off the dark leather office chair.

you and kuroo had no doubt your daughter would pick herself up on her own over time. that didn’t mean you wouldn’t slyly defend her behind the scenes though because while kuroo loved the idea of his daughter staying his little girl forever, he knew better than to tug at her independence.

nevertheless, your little girl or not, yourself and kuroo would go to all ends to make her happy and if that meant to send a petty email, the so be it. yourself and kuroo would gladly sit at your screens for hours and type up as many needed if it meant to make your daughter happy.

there wasn’t really anything kuroo wouldn’t do for his family and you loved that about him. always taking the higher ground and solving issues in sometimes questionable but logical ways was kuroos method at tackling things. youd question his motives but he’d always come through in the other end. perhaps you’d have to trust your husband from the start of these situations a little more in the future.

dt - @aislastetsu

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[fascination-street-writing]

Once You Loved Her - Now You’ve Lost Her | Yan!Pannacotta Fugo x F!Reader

Pangs of familiarity fill Fugo’s heart, in the way that Mista looks at you, because it is how you used to gawk at the strawberry blonde man himself, when you were both still young. As if he were a spring and you a parched disciple.

For skully-greg: Who suggested an angsty piece featuring Pannacotta Fugo

Content Warnings: Not S/F/W Content, Yandere Behaviors, Implied Child Abuse, Implied Non-Con, Past Underage Relationship, & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

It is raining again.

Pannacotta Fugo sighs, releasing the breath that he has held in for far too long. He does not bother to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. The soles of his shoes are already ruined. In the distance, the clock tower chimes as morning turns to noon. Church bells ring – the sounding of a wedding, no doubt. Though, it is a particularly dreary day for one.

He can see it all. An ivory lace gown and a black silk tuxedo. Baby’s-breath and roses. Candles on the altars. Matrimony – everything he might have had if life was more forgiving. Alas, his stomach curls at the thought, and so he forces his mind elsewhere. First, to the file tucked beneath his arm, which he must deliver to Don Giovanna before the day ends. Then, to the faint rumbling in his belly that reminds him of his promise to get tea with Sheila; never mind the matter wherein there is another woman whom he would much rather divulge in menial conversations with, over two saucers of earl grey.

It is you he has lost.

He passes the boutiques that you had so many times begged him to accompany you to. He never said yes, because he always felt that there were far more important things to do than to waste money on clothing (it simply reminds him too much of his parents, always so preoccupied with appearances) – and so you went alone. A street vendor selling elaborate bouquets hoists a tarp over his stall to protect his wares from the unrelenting storm. Fugo had once thought to buy you flowers – he refrained, as he knew they would die within the week.

A head of hair the color of yours catches his attention. He stops.

Through the display window of L’Abito di Fiori, he watches, helpless, as you lift a dress shirt made of pressed cotton to the torso of Guido Mista. The hanger dangles from your grasp as you gauge the shirt’s sizing to his body – and his eyes fall to your face, taking in the expression of determination that sweeps your brow. Pangs of familiarity fill Fugo’s heart, in the way that Mista looks at you, because it is how you used to gawk at the strawberry blonde man himself, when you were both still young.

As if he were a spring and you a parched disciple.

You bat away the dress shirt and offer Mista another; one that is slimmer and formfitting. Fugo has almost forgotten the occasion. It is an occasion indeed, as in no other circumstance might Mista give quite so much care about his uniform: Don Giovanna’s compleanno gala is nearly upon you all.

You say something to Mista that is unintelligible to Fugo, though by the way the chocolate-brown eyed man smiles, he knows it is nothing good. The long-forgotten, youthful rage within him has become an acquaintance as of late – a rekindling of something that ought to have gone away. The file snaps in his grasp. Pages upon pages of the report that took him a month to compose and organize scatter amongst the puddles.

Fugo stares at the ruin and sighs. Fishing his cellphone out from his pocket, he dials Don Giovanna’s number. Tea with Sheila will have to wait - not that he minds.

“Buon pomeriggio, Fugo,” the young Don speaks. Years of strain weigh heavily on his tone. “I was just about to call you – Monsieur Polnareff is getting impatient waiting for your report. How soon can you be here?”

“Ah, about that, Giorno. Mie scuse, but there’s been an incident . . .”

Il Libeccio is quiet, though perhaps since it is far too early in the day to be patronized. You and Fugo peer over the menu, as if something new might strike your fancy. In all honesty, you have committed it to memory; still, it makes for a good way to pass the time. Unreciprocated teasing glances are thrown his way. Unreciprocated, that is, until he grins only slightly – enough to be noticed by you before the corners of his lips fall.

You are glad that none of the others are here yet. Your moments with Fugo have always been cut far too short. First as children, when he would be ushered off to his studies and you to assist your mother in her duties around his parents’ estate. Now as two teenagers pulled apart by tasks assigned from Bucciarati.

If not for Fugo, you never would have joined Passione. Though from opposite ends of the social hierarchy, it was you who kept him grounded amidst the berating and the abuse – and the same can be said of him regarding you. Trauma is indiscriminatory, and it has an interesting way of bringing two thwarted souls together. Even after everything he had endured, his thoughts were of you. Following his expulsion from the university, he came back for you. With nothing to lose, and an optimistic inkling of something to gain, you joined him.

He took you from one life and gave you another. And for that, you will always be indebted to him.

“Have you two decided?” the waitress asks. “Or perhaps a bit longer?”

She clicks the pen in her hand. Fugo does not recognize her, and he realizes she must be new. Otherwise, she would know better than to inquire before the others have even arrived. “A few more minutes, please,” he says. “Grazie."

She obliges and leaves. You place a hand over your stomach, contemplating your options. “Fugo?” He raises an eyebrow and glances in your direction. “Will you share some cake with me?”

“Maybe. What flavor?”

He is not one to spoil his appetite with sweets; however, he might indulge for you. In truth, there is not much would not do at your behest; even as a boy, he has always loved you. You hum to yourself, dragging your finger down the dessert menu. He swallows the lump in his throat. A knowing smirk graces your face as you give him your answer.

“Strawberry.”

The banquet hall has been done up rather nicely. Round tables draped with white-satin tablecloths dot the perimeter of the room, each set with six chairs and a bouquet of lilies. The hired musicians – comprised of the most desirable instrumentalists in Napoli – play a lively little jazz tune. The caterer bores over the display of desserts, ensuring that not a single plate has been moved out of line.

Seated together, Mista lifts a forkful of strawberry dolce to your mouth. It hits your tongue and melts like sugar. Don Giovanna has spared no expense in preparing his gala, and the cake is no exception. You look far too elegant, wearing that beaded sheath dress while clasping a champagne flute betwixt manicured fingers. Your mulberry lipstick stains the rim like a kiss. Without a doubt, you are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight. Mista knows this, as do the men who pass you by and let their gazes’ wander.

And so does Fugo.

“If you squeeze your glass any tighter, it’ll snap in half. God forbid you’ll hurt yourself. I’d rather not end my night with taking you to the hospital.”

He eases the grip on his goblet. The color rushes back to his knuckles. Trish sips her champagne beside him, oblivious to the fury boiling within him, but not his envy. “You can be bitter every other night of the year. Don’t be tonight. It’s Giorno’s birthday, and we spent too much money on this damned party. Please, don’t cause a scene or do anything stupid. I’m begging you, Fugo.”

He bites back a scoff, never taking his eyes off you. “I’m not ‘causing a scene,’” he insists.

Trish frowns. “No, but you’re about to. Judging by the way you were practically strangling that poor cup, I know you’re only seconds away from throttling Mista.”

“I have every right to be upset,” Fugo tells the pink-haired woman.

“No, you really don’t,” she retorts. “You should be glad she moved on. Be happy that she’s happy.”

A bit of icing sticks to your lip. Mista swipes it away with his thumb before pressing his mouth to yours for a quick kiss. To Fugo, it is a nauseating sight. “You don’t think I haven’t tried?” he demands. “It’s been absolute agony this entire time. I still love her – so much that I hate her. She’s a reminder of everything I’ve done wrong.”

“You need try harder. It’s been four years. You’re going to ruin yourself at this point.” As if he has not already. “Listen, Fugo. I probably shouldn’t tell you this. Mista’s planning on proposing to her soon. He already bought a ring. You should make things right between you and [Y/N]; don’t spend the rest of your life resenting your best friend for marrying your ex. After all, maybe this can be an incentive to get over yourself and grow up.”

With that, Trish collects her belongings and departs, leaving an emptied champagne flute as a marker of where she once sat. He hardly notices her absense; he has grown numb. Marriage. An ivory gown for you and a silk tuxedo for Mista. Baby’s breath in a bouquet and a single rose in a boutonniere for Mista. Candles on the altars lit for Mista.

Fugo recoils. The thought of you marrying anyone other than himself is a death sentence. Mista stands, having been beckoned by Don Giovanna, depriving you of a companion. There is stock in Trish’s advice – but it takes courage to follow through.

You practically ignore him when he claims Mista’s vacated seat. You refuse to meet his violet stare; the band is far more interesting, anyways. Softly, he speaks your name. “How are you?” he asks.

“Good,” you answer, short. “Perfect.”

He awaits the refrain, yet you utter nothing else. And so, he tries again. “It doesn’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

“I was, before you sat down.”

Your words sting, as if you have pierced him through the heart with a wicked blade.

“You look beautiful.” You roll your brilliant eyes. If not for Don Giovanna’s sake, you might have thrown the remainder of your drink in Fugo’s handsome face. You will settle for audaciousness instead. That is, until his fingers coil around your wrist so tight the bones may snap. He hoists you from the chair, and with little regard to your protesting – deaf to the guests who can hear nothing over the sound of jazz –, he leads you from the banquet hall. Your refusal to reciprocate the conversation would have swayed any man from pursuing you. Any man, except Fugo.

Your bed has been made, and now you must lie in it.

Your back meets the wall of the closet. Fugo braces you with his own hand, warding off the wood’s bite. The unoccupied fingers of his opposite hand reach for the hardened nub between your folds, toying you open. He feels your core tighten around his shaft and an airy moan escapes you.

It is too hot, but neither of you seem to mind it very much.

With each aching thrust, he throbs in you. You bounce against him, held up by his body that pins you in place. The hand on your back trails up to the base of your spine, threading in your hair and jerking your head away. You tingle at his bluntness. Encouraged by it, you reach for his neck and pull his face down to yours, claiming his mouth with your own.

It is sweeter than he ever imagined. Your teeth graze his plump lip. He groans as you slide your tongue in his mouth, battling for dominance. Though, as accosted by the uncomfortable angle that your head has been bent to, you have no other choice than to surrender. Incited by his little victory, Fugo relinquishes his hold and pulls out, leaving you feeling utterly empty. You whine, practically keening for his touch.

He turns you around until your chest hits the wall. His manhood, stiff and slick with your wetness, teases the crest of your behind – and he enters you again, swiftly, full of unspent energy that propels your forward. Your palms smack the surface before you, desperate for something to cling onto. You settle for the mounted coatrack. Fugo’s fingers latch onto your hips with such ferocity that bruises will be sure to form in the coming days.

Purple will look good on you, he decides, and so he grips even harder. You cry out, struggling to meet his pace. Excited, nonetheless.

“Strawberry cake, huh?” he asks between soft grunts, his voice husky.

You laugh, breathless. “I thought it might rile you up,” you tell him, confessing your intention. “I took a gamble, and it paid off.”

“It did, cara.”

He is content that you had been the one to make the first move – because he could never find the gull to do it himself. To have you writhing in ecstasy at his touch is a reverie personified and more; a newfound warmth and comfort, only for him.

The doorknob shakes. Despite Fugo’s strawberry-patterned tie fastened to the overhead rack from the handle, which acts as a makeshift barricade, you panic and push off the wall, bucking into his torso.

“P-Panni –” you whisper. He thrusts deeper, eliciting a pleasant noise from you. “We have to stop. Someone’ll hear us.”

He urges you back into place. You cry out again when he hits your sensitive depths, but he is quick to stifle your pandemonium by placing his hand over your mouth; it is dampened, clammy with sweat, just like the rest of your body and his. “You have to be quiet,” he croons in your ear. You shiver and grind against the fullness between your legs. “Can you do that for me, bella? Starai tranquilla per me?”

You nod. Fugo feeds on your eagerness, picking up his pace. Unable to contain his own moans, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intimacy-induced musk. It is intoxicating. Not long after, you surrender to the coil in your belly – you reach your limit and come undone. Exhausted, you slump onto his torso. His hand falls from your mouth, moving to grasp the mounds of your chest.

With one last cry, he finishes, coating your walls with his release. He traces the crook of your cheek and kisses you twice more. Relationships between members of Passione are dangerous – affection is vulnerability. And yet, Fugo would give everything away to be vulnerable for you; a promise amongst many that he will not keep. In the moment, however, it makes for a pretty sentiment.

Shades of greens and violets dance throughout your vision. Content, you flash him a tired smile.

“Before we go back out, there’s something I should tell you,” you begin. “I love you, Panni. I always have.”

His heart blooms. Of course, deep down, he already knew. 

You collapse to the ground in a heap of fabric that once resembled a gown, yours knees skinning against the floors. Sore, used, and broken. The beads of the intricate embroidery scatter from being torn away in Fugo’s mood. An uncomfortable stickiness coats your inner thighs. Sobbing, you clutch the remnants of your dress, shielding yourself from the man who violated you so.

From the man whom you once adored like the moon amongst stars.

He readjusts the zipper to his trousers. Painfully, your legs vibrate. Otherwise, you might stand on your own. Noticing this, he extends his hand to you, expecting you to accept it so as to pull you to your feet. Incredulous, you smack him away, pushing yourself further adrift despite the dissent of your limbs. You have been set ablaze from the inside out.

“Get away from me,” you demand. There is not enough space on earth to satisfy your longing to distance your being and his. For a moment, you think you have hurt him – and irks you to do it again. “Ti odio, Fugo. I hate you more than anything else. Do you understand me? I hate you!”

He winces, struck by your venom; still, he holds his hand out. You would rather cast yourself from the nearest balcony than to welcome his help. His fleeting patience diminishes – before you may throw another jab his way, he has pulled you to stand, his hands nestled too tightly around your biceps. You manage to wrench yourself free and lash out. Your palm meets his face in a hurried slap. He staggers backwards, relinquishing his grip. At first, he feels nothing.

And then, pinpricks.

“[Y/N], I –”

“Save your apology for someone who cares.”

The door slams behind you. He listens until he can no longer hear the hurried sounds of your heels clacking off the marble floors. You are gone, again – to Mista or whoever else is to blame for Fugo’s loneliness. Sighing heavily, he turns to the mirror above the vanity.

He remembers a time, at the age of sixteen, when he was far too afraid of mirrors, because he never cared for the man who stared back at him. A day in Pompeii; you were so fearful for his wellbeing that you nearly fainted when he came back, bloodied and worn down.

The red handprint upon his face is nothing more than a mockery among many others to his character. He finds the object nearest to his reach: a silver drinking carafe that has been used as a vase for roses beside a candle with a smoldered wick atop a cherry-wood nightstand. Thrown from his fingers, the carafe shatters the mirror. A web of faces in mimicry of his own screams in anguish.

In his rage, he sees not red, but purple. Violent purple and harlequin motifs. Tears form in his eyes – though, to be honest, for all his time spent in utter bitterness, he has forgotten what pure unadulterated regret feels like.

It feels like it is raining again.

| 3008 Words |

[a-day-in-the-afterlife]

The 14th Department (AFTERL!FE) Meets the Demon Brothers and Undateables (Obey Me!)

Lucifer

Noah heard he has a dog.  He is staying far away from the pretentious eldest. 

Oldest big brother?  You better believe Youssef finds a kindred spirit, even if they differ wildly in personalities.  

Louis lives for the almost regal aesthetic Lucifer has got going on.  Lucifer, in turn, lives for the day Louis will stop talking.

Quincy finds this whole trip preposterous (“What the heck is the Devildom?  What happened to the Underworld?”) and does not like Lucifer’s condescending attitude (it conflicts with his own!).  

Ethan doesn’t like Lucifer—proud and arrogant people with no reason to be so are not to be respected.  Lucifer despises Ethan for the same reason.

Day!  Will!  Not!  Go!  Near!  Lucifer!  He’s so scary!  But Cerberus is his best friend now (Nine-Nine who?).

Nine and Theo together find out that the eldest demon is into classical music and spend hours discussing early compositions with him.

Ell cannot be around this demon!  He is a fallen angel!  He tries to be nice (and because Ell is kind, so is Lucifer, even if the sickly sweetness of the angel drives him up the wall), but every good wish is punctuated with a sneeze.

Lucifer is so overworked, so by way of his calm disposition and love for meditation, Jamie helps him find ways to relax.

The eldest demon’s general demeanor astonishes June.  How manly he is!

Likewise, Sian can’t go near Lucifer without feeling nervous.  The man drips dominating energy!

Verine can’t understand the eldest’s love for classical music.  Rock is infinitely better.

Mammon

Um, Mori and him are best friends.  They together cause trouble in the House of Lamentation and in the 14th Department with their many get-rich-quick schemes.

Gaudy and expensive taste?  Sign Louis up.

Ethan says ‘no’ to the demon’s general pomposity (it reeks of low self-esteem) and by God, doesn’t he own anything that depicts an iota of class?

Mammon is one speedy demon—how can Kirr not appreciate his fleetfootedness when it would bring him so much use whilst hunting?  Apart from that, Kirr has no respect for that reprehensible thief, for the very idea of stealing brings back terrible memories.

Always belittled by their peers, Day and Mammon find a kindred spirit in each other, and Day is always reminded of his past life when he sees all the gold that Mammon professes to possess possesses. 

Kati bit him twelve times because no dumb tsundere was going to steal his (cough Aitachi’s) spot as cutest in the Department!

Licht is eclipsed by Mammon’s demon form because how is he able to pull off wearing so little clothing so well?  He must take notes.  When he learns that Mammon is a model, too, he goes berserk with delight.

Cyrille finds the secondborn exceedingly stupid, although he begrudgingly gives him credit for being pretty decent at math.

Sian spots a fellow tsundere and runs away, because oh my God, it’s so obvious that Mammon likes this MC person!

Leviathan

Games?  Social awkwardness?  Extreme interest in things that no one else seems to care for?  Cyrille has found his soulmate!

Aitachi and Kirr cringe at how Leviathan spends his leisure time, but are intrigued because they have never seen such methods of gaming and media consumption before.

Leviathan is forever at Quincy’s mercy, for the fellow demon has no qualms of absolutely crushing Levi’s already non-existent self-esteem. 

Even though he loathes to admit it, Sian really likes the rhythm games Leviathan plays, and the thousands of idol posters in his room make him strangely nostalgic of his past life.

June wonders how Levi can go so long without feeling the overwhelming need to burst into a sprint now and again.

Theo almost kills the thirdborn because how is his room filled with so many Demonrito and Hell Mountain Dew containers?  What filth!

Speaking of filth, Licht finds some of Levi’s dating sims and oh my darling, some of them are quite … lewd.

Ghilley and Leviathan together construct an elaborate Lego model of a castle from the anime My Sister Is A Fairy Princess, And Her Suitor Is Secretly An Ogre From a Land Far Away And Wants to Eat Us All, And It’s Up to Me to Save My Sister’s Kingdom.

Ethan can’t even walk past Leviathan’s room without a disapproving “tut.”  Has the demon no discipline, despite being rumored to be the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy?

Kati spends all day poking at the cute monster and waifu figurines situated in Levi’s bedroom.  He thinks Azuki-tan is cute, but not as cute as him, and anyone who says otherwise will get bitten!

Aitachi likes to rifle through Leviathan’s anime sword replica collection and giggle because in combat, they would be of no more use than a toothpick.

Satan 

Finally!  Someone with sense! thinks Ethan.  Boy, do these two get along, right down to their educated and proper mannerisms to their mutual hatred of Lucifer.

Verine can’t go near Satan without coughing violently because the forthborn always has some manner of cat hair on him, no matter how diligently he preens.

Cats are infinitely better than dogs, so Noah sticks close to Satan.

Cyrille thought he had found a friend in Satan, who always has his nose in a book, but it turns out, Satan is more philosophically-and-intellectually-versed, while Cyrille is more scientific.

Nine likes Satan, for he is as calm as himself.  Strangely enough, they both seem to have hidden wrathful feelings and bond over this.

Kitties! :D is all Day can think when he sees the fourthborn.

Youssef enjoys Satan’s company, too, for they both are anthropological in nature—always watching, but never interfering until there is a need.

Blond and princelike are the two of them, but Louis is sorely disappointed when Satan’s royal appearance is merely a façade of darker emotions to come, where Louis enjoys life in its every aspect.  “How disappointing art thou, Satan!”  Louis throws rose petals in distress.

Kirr and Aitachi try to hunt one of Satan’s cats, thinking it was some kind of Devildom’s finest prey.  Satan does not forgive them for the attempt.

Theo sneezes the moment he enters Satan’s room.  Although everything is in its place and not truly messy by any means, he refuses to let the stacks and stacks of books sit idly by when they are begging to be put in shelves!

Quincy and Satan each add to their respective repertoire of curses in their time together.  It does not bode well for anyone in the House of Lamentation or 14th Department.

Asmodeus

They are … essentially the same person, so you can bet your ass that Licht and Asmo absolutely live for each other’s company.  They literally spend hours modeling clothes together, discussing fashion, gossiping about their romantic exploits, and praising their overall appearance.  

Louis joins in too, although he mostly stays for the latter, and the three vanquish away many nights complimenting their own and the others’ looks.

Sometimes Asmo likes to sew patches and sequins onto his clothes and mend them to his own design, and Aitachi, who likes to sew, learns many different ways of stitching from the fifthborn, although he hates the fact that Asmo, like Licht, never shuts up about what an “adorable and cute warrior” he is!

Asmo has to know Kirr’s hair care routine, which Kirr gives in one, succinct sentence: “I wash it.  Sometimes.”

Nine has to constantly flee Asmodeus’ presence because it is in his nature to compliment the Soul Reaper on how absolutely beautiful he looks.

Kati expects makeovers, all of which should emphasize his cuteness, every other day.

Don’t ask how long Mori spent calculating how much money Asmo spends on beauty products, because he wept at the end of it.

Verine refuses to step a foot into Asmodeus’ room because do you know how much his sinuses are going to bother him when he spends even a second into a room so deeply entrenched in the fragrance of flowers and perfume?

Ghilley is used to a personality so akin to his roommate, Licht, so he has no qualms in dealing with Asmo and quite likes the gossip he is quietly able to distill from the fifthborn.

Beelzebub

Brothers in their flaming orange hair, June gloms onto Beel with astounding loyalty (Theo refuses to admit jealousy, but ...), especially when he hears of his dedication to his twin.

Cyrille has to interrogate Beel on the structural integrity of his wings in his demon form because there is no way that such a flimsy apparatus could lift a demon of Beel’s stature even an inch into the air!  Also, how much does Beel exercise if he expects to gain muscle and burn off the infinite calories that he consumes?  It is a scientific mystery.

Day likes snacks, Beel likes snacks!  Everything is right in the world (even if the demon accidentally mistook Day’s hair for a mint ice cream cone).

Jamie is constantly offering fresh fruits and vegetables to the sixthborn, but even though he eats them willingly, Beel much prefers foods that will actually fill him up for a short amount of time.

Again, Ethan is appalled by the lack of discipline Beelzebub shows.  The demon is simply a slave to his appetite and deserves nothing less than scorn.

Theo cannot decide if he likes or hates the fact that Beel leaves a trail of crumbs wherever he goes.  On one hand, he gets to clean, but on the other hand, it’s so messy ... 

Even though he has many misgivings of fallen angels, even Ell cannot help but like Beel!  As long as he is fed, the demon is very sweet and kind.  

Noah likes Beel, too.  Something about his easygoing and generally cheerful personality pleases him to no end. 

Beel tried to eat Kati’s hair, thinking it was a yummy bun.  Sadly, he got bit more times than Mammon.

Youssef is a good cook and is thereby followed by Beel wherever he goes.  The kind Soul Reaper doesn’t mind, though.

Belphegor

Noah likes how Belphie takes things easily and calmly, although it probably wouldn’t hurt for him to get more exercise.

Belphegor is even more of a conundrum to June than Leviathan was.  He decides that next time he goes to the Devildom, he’s going to bring an extra pair of running shoes because the demon most certainly was wanting of physical exertion! 

Kirr is absolutely astonished at the unguarded and completely lax way Belphie sprawls out in the House of Lamentation, sleeping.  If he was an enemy tribesman, he would have no trouble in taking the demon down as he slept.

“This kind of laziness is not fit for a warrior at all!” cries Aitachi any time he seems Belphie dozing off.

Jamie likes Belphegor’s way of thinking.  Sometimes, sitting under an apple tree in the sweltering summer heat after a hard day of work just causes one to be overcome with the desire to take a nap. 

Youssef tries to brew Belphie a cup of espresso, but the caffeine just doesn’t seem to have an effect on the Avatar of Sloth. 

Although he is slightly disheartened by the fact that his quiet footsteps seem to have no effect on the seventhborn, as he is always asleep, Ghilley revels in the prospect of drawing unsavory graffiti on the demon’s face when he slumbers.

Day sometimes tries to rouse Belphie, and Belphie, in turn, tries to kill Day.

Like his observations on his twin, Cyrille cannot fathom how the demon could sleep so much.  How could one body need so much rest?

Simeon

Ell loves him.  How can he not?  He is the perfect angel!  He is also very curious as to how the Celestial Realm of Obey Me!’s world works compared to the one in AFTERL!FE.

His whole aesthetic mesmerizes Louis.  There’s something so tranquil but regal about it.  

Licht wants to know where he can get an exact copy of Simeon’s outfit because darling, it's gorgeous.

Youssef probably spends more time around Simeon than he should, but his calm demeanor is so refreshing compared to the chaos in the 14th Department and the House of Lamentation. 

Kirr and Aitachi together lament with Simeon on the struggles of working with technology.  Why is it so difficult?

Something about the angel’s holy air makes Mori very much not inclined to ask him how much the gold clasp on his cape is worth.

Quincy hates the “pretentious” and “stuck up” angel and bickers with him almost as much as he bickers with Ell.  Simeon never responds to his goading, although ... he does get a bit prickly when Quincy criticizes Luke or the Celestial Realm too harshly.

Encouraged by the prospect that he can actually breathe in the (fresh-smelling) presence of Simeon, Verine enjoys his company, but is perpetually annoyed by the fact that the angel seems to pity him for his condition.

Ethan can’t hate Simeon, either.  He is the sole honorable character he can find in the entire Devildom, even though he has to admit that it seems that the angel is hiding something.

Day really likes Simeon!  He’s so nice and is always ready to play with him.

As a man of science, Cyrille scoffs at Simeon (and Luke’s) unfaltering belief in religion. 

Luke

Kati bites him on sight.  Luke just seems irritating and how dare he think himself cuter than him!

Aitachi sympathizes with Luke, for they both lament on not being taken seriously because of their age.  

Luke reminds him a bit too much of a chihuahua for Noah to be too fond of him, but the little angel means well, so Noah suffers his incessant barking out of (Kind)ness.

Day is a human puppy ... and Luke is an angel chihuahua.  They get along great, although Luke makes it his most important goal to Christianize Day, who seems to believe in other things!

Quincy wonders when Luke will stop talking and is constantly entertaining thoughts of hastening the day when he will.  Likewise, Luke wishes the “horrible demon” would go away forever.

As a fellow angel, Ell finds Luke to be great fun.  It’s strange though, Luke seems to always be expressing the opposite of what he’s feeling in typical tsundere fashion, but he never sneezes.

Sian finds Luke to be of the utmost annoyance.  He’s so short (heh) and yappy and annoying!  

Kirr wonders if the little angel will make a good hunting dog, but after he realizes that Luke has a lot of trouble keeping his mouth closed, he thinks  better of it.

His dealings with Day cause Nine to be an excellent caretaker of Luke when Simeon is away.  You just have to deal with exuberant personalities like his carefully, is all.

Ghilley and Licht give Luke “five stars” in terms of cuteness.  The young angel does not approve!

Theo stays far away from Luke.  Children are walking crumb-and-stain-factories and he is not going to get dirty.

Solomon

Quincy and Solomon exchange many spell incantations and curses and keep the rest of the Soul Reapers, angels, and demons in an uproar with their constant shenanigans. 

When he notices that Solomon has many fortune-telling artifacts in his room, Kati rifles through them all (without permission), much to the sorcerer’s amusement, especially when Kati discovers many supposedly unpleasant things about his future.

Although Quincy and Solomon are the true troublemaking duo in terms of pranks (Satan helps, sometimes), Day and Solomon are almost equal in measure, although much of Day’s rogurey is an accident, and he never means to cause any harm!

Licht is instantly enamored by Solomon’s cape—what style!  You can see the entire Milky Way embroidered on it (Cyrille instantly assures him that that is not actually the case)!

Ghilley can’t help but wonder why anyone thinks Solomon is shady.  He seems to be a pretty upstanding, if chaotic, guy?

Youssef admires the humanity of Solomon.  In a land of angels and demons and even Soul Reapers, it’s good to have someone so normal.

Unlike Ghilley, Ethan definitely notices that something shady is afoot when Solomon is around.  Because of this, he tails the sorcerer wherever he goes, for he’d rather not a ruckus be caused.

Sian has many questions for Solomon on the status of idols in the Human World since he left it.  What are the newest trends?  The most popular groups?  The most admired dance moves?  He wants to know it all.

Barbatos

Cyrille finds the whole time-travel aspect of Barbatos’ powers intriguing and derails the butler from his duties for hours in attempts to understand the nuances of this overpowering concept.

Ethan privately thinks that he looked much better in a butler suit than the demon.  What is even going on with the front of his outfit?  A diligent and uncomplaining demon is Barbatos, and Ethan has to respect him for that, even if he is a position so beneath his own.

He’s so scary! D: thinks Day, even though Barbatos is nothing but kind to him.

Kirr likes the fine fare that Barbatos cooks, although he laments not being able to win “the mind game” against the butler, who he spends many hours staring coolly at.

Theo and Barbatos spend many an evening chatting about the best way to maintain the most perfect state of cleanliness.

The strong smell of detergent follows Barbatos sometimes, and Verine can never bring himself too close to the demon.  However, he has to begrudgingly admit that if it weren’t for the overwhelming stench of chemicals, he would be breathing in a suffocating cloud of dust particles, so he has to thank the butler for that.

Jamie gives Barbatos many good recipes for fruit pies and Youssef can’t wait to try all the (possibly) delicious recipes that Barbatos recites to him.  

Ghilley, unfortunately, finds it very difficult to sneak up on the butler, for Barbatos has seen all Ghilley’s attempts to scare him in all the timelines he has observed. 

Diavolo

This bumbling idiot is the ruler of the Devildom? thinks Ethan with great distaste.  However dignified Diavolo might be, Ethan cannot see past the blindingly cheerful mask he puts on and finds it most undignified.

A fellow royal!  How is Louis supposed to resist striking a long-winded conversation?  Diavolo entertains Louis’ pompous and overbearing self and they find each other most delightful.

Licht positively drools over Diavolo’s demon form outfit.  Just how he is pulling off that much style?

Quincy finds much enjoyment in disrespecting the Prince of the Devildom to no end and is always disappointed when Diavolo responds to his insults with a tolerating smile.

The Prince of Demons and the son of the Demon Lord are titles that are essentially the bane of Ell’s existence, but he manages to be most respectful toward him, even though he is shaking in his shoes and wondering when all their interactions will come to and end.

Day lived like a king in his past life and is not even remotely fazed by the enormous amount of finery found in the Demon Lord’s Castle.  He is, however, enamored with the Little D’s, who, when not insulting him, are great fun!

Diavolo’s lifestyle of luxury is basically Mori’s dream, so he takes every opportunity to make notes of the expensive furniture and ancient pieces.

Noah and Youssef like how down-to-Earth Diavolo is, despite his high position.  They feel as if he has something to hide, but for the most part, he is a jolly fellow and they enjoy his company.

[curekibouka-writing]

Crimson World (Pandora Hearts one-shot fanfic)

Summary: He gladly drifted off to a long overdue repose on her lap, believing the mere fact that she was with him would finally allow him to dream of wonders as sweet and forgiving and beautiful as her. 

A/N: Been a long time since I posted a Pandora Hearts fic? Yea. Fun fact, I delayed this by a lot because I kept thinking it’s not good enough. Now? I did try to rewrite but it’s still terrible T~T. But I really want to post some Break x Shelly (/Kevin x Shelly), so here we go.

I am a teenager who has no experience in the romance department writing a romance between two adults. You have been warned XD

Note: This is supposed to be a two-shot, but I merged them for tumblr format. It doesn’t really matter since the content is the same. But if you’re curious, you can check out the links in the reblog. (Quotev has better formatting options)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A crimson eye darted to the side in acknowledgement to the golden light of sunrise illuminating the view outside. It was perhaps the first occurrence his mind managed to register in the last few hours.

He tried. He really did. Every cell in his body had been urging him to sleep for the past hours, and the hours last night, as well as those the night before, and he tried to comply.

But every time he closed his eye, all he saw was a nightmare.

A world of crimson. A hall, stained by crimson. A child, stained by crimson. His clothes, his hands, his face, his eye, all dripping in revolting crimson.

He pulled his finger out from his hollow eye socket. His clothes, his hands, his face, now dripping with crimson as well.

He almost smiled as he rammed his fingers into his blood-flooded eye socket again. An agonised howl bursted out from his throat, but he had no intentions of ceasing his torture, not until his reality was painted with the same amount of crimson as his nightmare just because he knew he deserved it.

With less than half of his sanity intact, it was a miracle he even heard her voice, ever so benevolent, even with worry in her tone, even in this realm of hellish red.

Shelly touched him with the gentleness one would display to a weeping child. In his astonishment, he heeded her request for him to stop.

She extended an invitation to him after his blood and his shredded bandages had been taken care of.

“Kevin,” she whispered his name as if it was not something filthy and despicable, “care to accompany me to the garden?”

He flinched as he stepped into the light. How long had it been? A specter who had always lurked in the shadows was a disgrace to the blessing of the golden sun, darkness was his domain. But as he laid eyes on her, so radiant as she elegantly trod the soft grass and smiled at him, he could not help but follow her further into the light.

Unfortunately, his fatigue caught up with him. Between his deprivation of sleep and his lingering pain, he found his mind in quite the hazy state.

“Kevin... Don’t leave me alone...!”

I know. I shall return. I promise. Please give me some time.

“Do YOu wISh tO cHAnGe tHe pASt?”

I... must kill.

“It’s the Red-eyed Specter! Run! Quic—“

I must kill.

“Kevin...!”

“KEviN.”

“Kevin...!”

“KevIN.”

“Kevin?” Once again, Shelly called his name with that calming voice of hers, stepping forward as she sensed something was amiss, “Are you alright?”

He backed away by instinct. His gaze blanked, somehow even more than how it had already been.

But she could see. She could see beyond the blank surface. She could see all the fear and all the fragility, as if something was screeching — despite his silence — deep within his soul, demanding her to stay away.

And then she made a judgement. They had given him enough space, enough time, enough liberty to regain control over himself and he had shown no ability to do so. He was too shaken, too exhausted, too blinded by something that wasn’t his reality in the present.

Time and distance were not what he needed, it was something much more basic, so much so that she pondered how he could possibly lack it.

“You are tired,” she stated — not asked — curtly yet assertively, leading him to the shades of the nearest tree, then sat down and smoothed out her dress, “Come. Rest.”

He shook his head after a good while.

“It’s less likely to have nightmares when you are not alone.”

The slightest hint of surprise flashed across his countenance, as if to ask “How did you know?”. Although he did not voice it.

She pretended she didn’t see that, “Your physique is feeble enough as it is. In fact you look like you’re about to pass out at any moment even now. You have to rest.”

“...”

“There’s nothing to fear. Come on, come closer.”

“......no... not for... me...” he muttered under his breath ever so quietly, but he believed in it more than anyone. He backed away again, regaining distance, for one thing he feared far more than his nightmares was the crimson in said nightmares spreading into someone else’s life (again).

.

But it wasn’t spreading.

She grasped his hand. And it didn’t spread.

Only her golden warmth had spread to him.

“Running away? Are you going to lock yourself up again?” she probed, “Kevin, you won’t heal for the rest of your life if you don’t let someone in.”

“That is—“

“Not fine,” she declared. She would never allow this. She would not just leave him to his own devices, knowing that his fear would surge and drive him to self-destruction.

Because how in God’s name could she cast aside this young man who so desperately needed somebody to tell him it was okay for him to live and breathe?

“I know not what you fear, or why you fear them. But I know that this moment in which you’re only standing here is not a lie, not a nightmare and certainly not a sin.”

She was wrong, he knew she was. He knew his current life was a lie and his past was a perpetual nightmare. He was constantly condemned by the knowledge that his existence in this time and space was a sin in and of itself. Yet his heart leapt forward to believe in her words before his head could deny.

Finally, he allowed himself to lie down and rest his head on her lap.

Warmth. Warm like the gracious sun rays of morning. Warm like the embrace of a pure angel’s wings. Warm like memories of the days before he was broken in almost every way possible.

He shifted uncomfortably, reminding himself that he, an unsightly, murderous specter, deserved nothing of the sort, nothing so warm, so compassionate, so humane.

“You’ll be fine.” She pressed lightly on his shoulder to steady him, “Sweet dreams.”

A thousand words halted at the tip of his tongue, and he gulped them back inside, a compunctious smile was all he offered as a reply. But that was good enough for now.

For now... he placed his trust in her words, and believed the mere fact that she was here with him would finally allow him to dream of wonders as sweet and forgiving and beautiful as her.

(End of Part 1)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shelly-sama. 

Another day without you. Can you believe it? It has already been a year since.

Somehow, I pulled through. Somehow, I am still in one piece, staggering, struggling, surviving, just as you told me to. 

And I suppose you have not the slightest idea of how arduous it is. 

Be it in the heat of summer or the cold of winter, the drizzles of spring or the breeze of autumn, I have scoured endlessly for warmth and beauty akin to yours. 

Alas, I doubt even the finest velvet quilt in the Rainsworth’s possession would even come close to the comfort your mere presence bestowed upon me. 

Please rest assured, I have advanced beyond the idiocy of wallowing in despair. I will continue to survive, as you so wished. Believe me, I would have more than willingly allowed an otherworldly being manipulate me into mad bloodlust again had it harboured the slightest possibility of bringing you back. But your command is one thing I would never so much as to consider disobeying. 

Ah. 

But. 

I miss you so. 

Perhaps in this short-lived wonderland yet to be defiled by crimson, I would be permitted to utter words I never dared to:

I love you. I love you with all my heart. I love you more than the accumulated amount of kindness and care and mercy you had given me. I need you. I need you to live. I need you to breathe. 

Would you be so kind as to bless me with all the hope in existence just once more? A single, brusque glance at your silhouette would suffice, I beg of you, please grace this rotting blood-red eye with your compassion.

So please, would you let me see you tonight?

...

......

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

He woke up. 

The End

[ballerinaroy]

Chess Pieces

They were children raised as soldiers. They weren’t expected to survive the war.  Ao3 

Ron was the first of them to die. He did it so deliberately, without so much of an ounce of hesitation, that in the months after Harry was convinced that Ron had been planning it all along. In the middle of an ambush, wand blasted from his hand, one moment Ron was at his side, fighting towards Hermione so they could make their escape and in the next Harry was shoved forward with such force that he crashed into Hermione’s body upon landing.

Immediately, Harry had wanted to go back. His brain could not comprehend the notion there was even a possibility that Ron could be dead. Even after seeing the blinding green light engulf his body. Even after seeing the determination leave his eyes. It took all of Hermione’s strength to stop him. With tears streaming down her face and hands that would not stop trembling, she worked as quickly and diligently as ever to perform their protection spells in order to keep him safe.

“We have to go back,” he demanded, stalking her around the musty wooded area she had taken them to. “We have to go back Hermione, we can’t just leave him there.”

“It won’t change anything,” Hermione told him through gasping sobs, “It’s over.”

For weeks, whenever Harry closed his eyes he could only see Ron’s face alight with determination and fear as the green light took over his body and he went crashing to the ground. He awoke screaming Ron’s name, tears streaming down his face as the last memory of his best friend washed over him. It haunted him.

“He was always going to do it,” Hermione said out of the blue one dusk as she stared into a half-empty glass of whiskey. “Don’t you remember when we were eleven on the chessboard?” she looked up at Harry as if he were a stranger and she was uncomfortable sitting so close to him. “He was always going to sacrifice himself for you if it came to it.”

This did nothing to help the growing ball of guilt in Harry’s chest, eating away at him. One day he was going to have to tell Mrs. Weasley how it happened. How could he explain what Ron had done for them?

“I’m sorry,” he offered, but it was more of a cry than a formation of words.

She stared at him for a long moment, finished her glass, and then got to work.

When Harry saw Ron for the final time in the forest he wore the grin that was in all of Harry’s fondest memories.

There was only one thought on his mind, one question that had never been satisfied.  “Did you know?”

The not solid form of Ron nodded and smirked. “I taught you chess, didn’t I? You have to make calculated losses if you stand a chance at winning.”

For some time Harry had the gnawing feeling that he had been a piece in a greater game. To hear Ron make himself into one too did not make Harry feel any better.

“We weren’t going to make it out mate,” Ron continued patiently as if explaining something that should have been obvious to Harry. “We couldn’t have gone on without you and if it was between you or me it had to be me. It’s what we agreed to, Hermione and me, it’s what we promised. Our job was to keep you safe, our job was to get you here.”

This did not explain how Ron could have possibly been so brave in a moment when Harry was so completely terrified.

Hermione’s death was much more deliberate.

Harry had never considered losing one of them, but with Ron gone he braced himself with what seemed inevitable, there was no guarantee they would survive this war. Hermione didn’t sleep. Every time Harry awoke she was sitting there, writing furiously into a journal or reading heavy books with such vigor that Harry worried her head might explode with the information she absorbed. No longer did Hermione want to make conservative moves towards victory, she was thirsty for blood and revenge and consumed with the loss of the person she’d loved completely but now could never be with.

They never stopped moving, each day a different task and new mission. Intelligence which made Harry’s head spin was tracked in Hermione’s books. When they came across Death Eaters they made no attempts to hide. In the game of cat and mouse, they were the predators. The first deliberate killing made Harry feel sick and as if he could physically feel his soul detaching though his wand did none of the spell work. Hermione never let him.

“We have to keep you pure.” She told him as they scavenged through the belongings of their latest target.

Harry didn’t quite understand what she meant but felt as though he lacked the bloodlust necessary to complete the task anyway. He lost track of how many times they killed. Somewhere in the many books, Hermione kept he knew there was a list but he didn’t care to look for it. There was always another for them to hunt. One less Death Eater meant one less threat to watch over their shoulders for.

“Promise me you’ll destroy my body Harry,” she would tell him in the few moments she could look at him.

Since Ron’s death, they had hardly spoken. Every line out of their mouths was about strategy and what they’d learned. By sheer force alone, Hermione seemed to be speeding up the war. What was left of the Horcruxes, the cup in their bag and the last in their sights, were all but destroyed. It seemed, however, that Hermione’s bloodlust wouldn’t be satisfied and always she was coming up with another target.

“We could go and end this,” he told her, wanting nothing more than for this war, which had already stolen the thing he would miss most, to end.

“One more mission,” she told him and he had a sinking feeling about her latest target. “Then to Hogwarts. It’ll be something of Ravenclaws, you should go and talk to her ghost, maybe Luna or Padma will be able to help you. Get the sword back if you can, if not then the fangs are your best bet.”

Harry did not miss that she hadn’t said “we” once while giving him instructions. Looking back he should have known she wouldn’t be with him. Harry supposed he out to have tried to convince her out of what she wanted to do, tried harder to find the words to force her to focus on their mission. Only he wanted revenge too.

Hermione’s last kill was of the woman who’s wand killed the man she had loved. Once it was completed, Harry could almost see her body physically relax and surrender. He understood her request as he watched them tear her apart. It took hours for her to die. Harry watched from the rafters of the Lestrange Mansion as Rodolphus Lestrange exacted revenge for his slain wife. Harry wished to run, to depart, but made true to his promise and when the moment was right performed his first and final killing curse on the only person left whom he could trust.

In the forest, Hermione finally showed remorse for her actions. She begged Harry for forgiveness for what she’d forced him to do.

“I can’t take back what I’ve done,” Hermione said, “I should have never put you in that position Harry.”

“You’re the one that died,” he attempted to joke.

It was only later that Harry recognized the absurdity that in the moments before he was going to throw himself in front of Voldemort’s wand he was joking with his dead best friends.

When he turned to his mother and father, the fear in his chest was all but diminished. And when his Godfather assured him that death would be painless Harry found himself restless in wanting to end the journey and join his best friends in whatever would come next.

When Voldemort’s wand stopped his tattooing heart, it’s their greeting arms that wrap around him and surround him in warmth. For the first time in years, Harry felt whole. They tell him they’d been waiting for him at the station. Together, they boarded the train for their next great adventure.

[xmagicxshopx]

😈 Secret Admirer 😈 Epilogue

Genre: fantasy adventure, romance, angst Rating: PG-13 bordering M Warnings: brief but graphic violence, temporary deaths, angst Pairing: Jungkook x reader Notes: demon!jungkook au. Private Investigator Jungkook. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: This gets pretty emotional really quick. But I promise you, this is a happy ending~

Tagging: @sebastianshoe @fortunexkookie

Summary: All you’ve ever known is struggle. You fight to survive every day and you’re grateful for the little things. But one night, when you make a wish at 11:11pm on the 11th day of the 11th month…….your whole world gets turned upside down.

“Kookie.....Is this trip necessary???”

“Of course it is. Absolutely.”

“But what if they’re in there???”

“My beautiful angel.....that’s what we want.”

It had been three days since you discovered that your mysterious secret admirer was actually your coworker who turned out to be under cover as a private investigator. Not confusing at all, right? How about we throw in the fact that he’s a demon too. Yeah. That would explain the red eyes you had nicknamed him for.

You weren’t going to lie, it was quite the shock. Even more so when he explained to you how you had been in a coma for nearly six months. It didn’t even feel like that much time had passed. It just felt like you had fainted and woken up a few minutes afterward. How wrong you were.

It had all happened so fast. You woke up from your coma, discovered what Jungkook was, accepted him for what he was, and then you had blacked out. Only from Jungkook’s point of view, you had flat lined. He sat there frozen with confusion and fear as he watched the line on your monitor and the straight beep ringing in his ears.

You were dead.......

“No.....No.......No no no no no no no no. Human! Don’t do this! Don’t go! Don’t leave me! Come back!”

The demon had never ever lost his cool. It was just something he was good at. But having dealt with your absence for so long and to finally have you awaken only to be taken away from him a few minutes later......it broke him. He was in hysterics as he started sobbing over your motionless form; even going as far as trying to shake you back to life.

You were gone. You were on your way to Heaven.....

Wait......

That’s it.

He had to stop you.

Thinking fast and knowing time was short, the male climbed into bed with you and instantly fabricated a large kitchen knife with the snap of his fingers. As he positioned the tip of the knife to the spot over his chest where his black heart beat, he mumbled to himself,

“Probably overkill but nothing like making sure I don’t miss.”

Closing his eyes and calming himself enough to focus, Jungkook swiftly pushed the knife forward and ended up letting out a small choke before allowing himself to fall backward onto the bed; arms falling limp at his sides.

To any outsider, it would be like watching a modern play of Romeo and his beloved Juliet. There the two of you lay on his grand king sized bed. You with your lips blue and skin ashen gray. The demon motionless as black liquid poured from his self-inflicted wound; a small trickle of the same substance crawling its way down from the corner of his lips.

Jungkook woke up in a foggy field full of wild flowers. It was so peaceful as he sat up and gently rubbed the back of his head. Looking around, he took notice of a stream nearby with a few wild animals refreshing themselves with the crystal clear liquid. Looking down at himself, he realized his chest was completely free of injury and he was dressed in white.

“Little Human!”

That’s right. He was on a mission. Scrambling to his feet, the demon looked all around for some sort of path or directory that would tell him where you might be. Did Heaven even have a directory??? Just when he was about to say screw it and start running in a random direction, it was like his thoughts were being read as a stone pathway suddenly formed right in front of him.

Not even questioning it, Jungkook started into a sprint as he followed the newly laid path. He could only hope this path would lead him to you. The demon obviously wasn’t one to pray, but for the first time that he could recall, he was praying you hadn’t walked through the pearly white gates yet. He prayed that he was going to make it in time to stop you.

Honestly, it was a miracle the demon hadn’t burst into flames yet. He wasn’t exactly welcome here. Now that he thought about it, how had he even made it here??? Of course every one of God’s children were to be judged at their time of death, but one would think a demon would automatically be sent to hell, right? Hmm.....

And there you were; standing in front of the famous gates to Heaven. A paradise for all of God’s children who stay faithful to Him and His word. The perfect home for an angel like you.

But a place he could not follow.

You were absolutely beautiful. Stunning, even. Standing there looking the healthiest you had ever been with an excited smile on your face. Your skin had a radiant glow and the sundress you wore hugged your body perfectly. You were gorgeous. The angel to his demon. The light to his darkness. You were his other half.

And he couldn’t let you go through those gates.

“Wait! Don’t do it!”

‘Huh?’

You recognized that voice. Quickly turning around, you were shocked to find the male that had quickly become your whole world running right towards you. Within seconds, he had you wrapped up in his strong arms and was pulling you away from the entrance to Heaven. Confusion filled you as you tried to calm the frazzled boy down.

“Jungkook---What are you doing here??”

“You can’t go in there. You can’t.”

There the two of you stood with your arms around him rubbing his back and his face stuffed in the crook of your neck. Honestly if you weren’t already dead, you’d guess he was squeezing the life out of you with how strong he clung to you. Trying to get him to understand while still soothing him with back rubs, you spoke softly.

“Kookie. It’s my time to go. God told me I don’t have to struggle anymore. It’s time for me to go home.”

That only seemed to make things worse as you felt his towering form begin to shake against your smaller frame. If it were possible, it only made him cling to you tighter. With audible tears soaking your shoulder, he shook his head against your neck and managed to wail through his tears,

“No! I refuse to believe that! It’s not your time! Not yet!”

It broke your heart seeing him like this. He seemed like too good of a person to be a demon but the red eyes don’t lie. God his tears were making you cry now. Sniffling and whimpering, you clung to him just as tightly. Perhaps there was a part of you that didn’t want to leave if it meant being without him. You had grown quite close over your time together in the storage room of the department store.

You enjoyed his cheesy corny jokes and of course he always made sure you were eating and drinking plenty of water. Jungkook took care of you. Your secret admirer had been taking care of you all this time and you didn’t even know it. The repairs to the apartment, the new shoes, the sticky notes. Everything. It was all Jungkook. The big bad demon who was supposed to have a black heart.

But then it hit you......If you were here......and he was here......then that meant---

“Jungkook----You’re----”

“Dead. Yeah.”

You stared up at him wide-eyed while he smiled a bit sheepishly but sadly. He had finally stopped crying. Reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear, the demon explained in a soft voice,

“I had to stop you somehow. This was the only way I knew how.”

Before you could respond, he continued.

“I’ve witnessed a lot of deaths, little human. Deaths that were well deserved. Souls that resembled rotten apples. Hearts blacker than the ace of spades. They deserved to die. But you......”

Your eyes began to water once more as you knew where this was going. You whimpered as he lovingly tried to wipe your tears before they could fall from your eyes; a sad smile on his face.

“You don’t. You deserve to live. A soul as pure as yours deserves a second chance. Take it. Live the life you were meant to live. You can have my apartment and my funds. While you were in a coma, I made up a will and put everything in your name should something happen to me.”

“Jungkook stop.”

But he just kept going.

“I’m a demon. A dark soul. A follower of Hades. I belong in hell. I deserve to die. But not without making sure you’re taken care of first. My precious little human. My angel. Please don’t cry.”

“Ahem.”

The two of you broke apart from your desperate clinging to each other only to turn around and see a young man dressed in a white robe with the hood up. He was standing by the gates with a warm smile on his face. His skin was the most beautiful tan you had ever seen and you were pretty sure those were dimples you saw coming from his smile.

“Hello, my children.”

You instantly recognized that voice. It was the voice of God Himself! Your eyes widened as you immediately gave a 90 degree bow to which the male only chuckled softly while waving a hand gently in the air.

“No need for formalities, my child. Please rise and face me as an equal.”

You felt Jungkook rest his large, warm hand on the small of your back as you straightened up once more to stare at the man Himself. Swallowing hard, you watched His smile widen a bit; a twinkle of amusement in His warm brown eyes.

“I see you are reconsidering your choice to come home.”

Eyes watering all over again, you sniffled to help stop your nose from running and making your face look even worse than it already was. Swallowing hard, you spoke in a begging voice,

“Please, Father, let Jungkook come with me.”

“Forgive me, my child. But Jungkook is not like you and I. He does not belong here. Where you and I go, he cannot follow.”

This only made you sob harder with your eyes screwed shut and your face twisting in emotional pain. Just when the demon himself was about to reach out and comfort you, he was shocked by the next words that came flying out of your mouth.

“Then let me take him with me back to Earth! If I go back, so does he! I’m not leaving him! I love him! We’re a package deal!”

Whoa. Okay. That definitely wasn’t what Jungkook was expecting. Did he hear you right? Did you just say that you.......that you loved him? All he could do was stare at you in shock while you stared firmly at the Heavenly Father Himself; a stubborn pout on your face the entire time.

Meanwhile, God was smiling fondly at the two of you. Things were going exactly as He had planned. It was true what they say, God has a plan for all of His children. That included you and your little demon boyfriend here. With soft chuckles, the pure male spoke with amusement in His voice.

“I thought you might say as much, my child. Fortunately for you, I came prepared for such a demand.”

And that was how you now found yourself three days later back on Earth standing in front of the department store you and Jungkook worked at for all those months. Hand-in-hand with you sporting a nervous expression while he was grinning like the cat who ate the canary. Letting out a shaky breath, you watched the small cloud leave your mouth from how cold it was outside. It was November after all.

“Do we have to go in there? What if they recognize me???”

“Babe---again---that’s what we want. We want them to recognize you.”

You chewed on your bottom lip in extreme nervousness while the male simply glowed with giddiness and opened the door for you; gently nudging you in first before following close behind you. No longer were you shivering from the cold, but from nerves.

This was the first time you were back in the clothing store since your coma. It had been six months since you were last here. Surly they had replaced you already, right? Perhaps it had been so long that no one would recognize you. However, your persistent boyfriend was about to make sure they didn’t.

“Hello. Welcome to----”

Dang. So much for being forgotten. The two snooty girls who always stayed on register duty definitely recognized you as both you and Jungkook approached them. Good lord you really didn’t want to have this conversation. Your instincts drove you to cling against the male’s side like lint on his designer dress coat. Not able to find your voice, your boyfriend spoke for you in a chipper tone.

“Hello, ladies. My girlfriend and I are hoping to find her a new winter coat. Only the best for my angel, after all.”

Dear god he was laying it on thick, wasn’t he? You nearly squeaked in shock when you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head with his arm wrapped around you lovingly. Any other time, you would have mewled and cooed at the display of affection. However, right now, all you wanted was to hide in the nearest clothes rack and never come out.

The two girls stared on in shock as they tried to process what they were seeing. How could a handsome man like Jungkook be with a scrawny, poor peasant like you??? It didn’t make sense. However, upon seeing the male raise a curious eyebrow with an expression that clearly stated he was waiting for their assistance, the two girls immediately started to scramble and stumble over their words; trying to explain where the best coats were in the store and such.

“Thanks, ladies. My angel and I can take it from here.”

Needless to say, Jungkook pulled one last prank on the two witches before he strolled out of the store with a brand new coat for you; whistling as if he hadn’t just totally caused the two females to fall flat on their faces as their shoelaces had become mysteriously tied together sometime between ringing up the new winter item and handing the large bag to your boyfriend.

“That’s not what God meant by using your powers to right wrongs, Kookie. You know He’s watching, right?”

You pouted cutely as your boyfriend simply winked at you and replied casually, gently swinging the bag that contained your new winter fur coat,

“I’m sure He’ll let this one slide, babe. Think of it as karma. No worries. Now---Let’s go to the diner and have some lunch. I’m starving and you need to keep eating so that you stay glowing and beautiful.”

Meanwhile, just across the street from the diner watching the two lovebirds taking a seat at a booth perched against the window, stood two young men wearing trench coats along with hats to cover their faces. One wore a gorgeous white coat while the other wore a pitch black one.

“Told you he’d prank them. You owe me a drink, Joon.”

Joon. Kim Namjoon. Also known as God Himself. The tanned male smiled in amusement as he watched the young couple happily chatting in the diner. You would occasionally giggle over something the young ex demon would say; hand covering your lips in an attempt to stay decent and respectful to others trying to enjoy their meal in peace.

“Fair and square, Tae. But I still have faith the boy will keep his end of the deal. He’s not all bad.”

Tae. Kim Taehyung. Also known as Hades himself. The blonde male sported a boxy smile as he too watched the scene from across the street. Taehyung had taught Jungkook everything he knew about being a demon. However, ever since you had stepped into the picture, Jungkook’s performance was more than lacking. With a soft bark of laughter, the evil male said coolly,

“Eh. You can have him. He was turning sloppy anyway. Hasn’t handed me a soul in months.”

On the other side of the street, you sat there staring out the window with a clear view of the two males leaning against a wall opposite the diner. Your smile was warm and loving as you instantly recognized God Himself. Hoping that He could see you, you couldn’t help but say out loud in your head,

‘Thank you.’

Life was rough sometimes.

But with a little faith......

Things could always turn around for the better.

[ofcruelfates101]

“ There is no such thing as perfection.”

the courts offer bread and salt to ARTEMISIA of HOUSE MANDERLY. many say that the THIRTY-ONE year old LADY of THE NEW CASTLE ( within White Harbor ) is known to be CALM and WISE, though ill tongues whisper that SHE is SECRETIVE and DISILLUSIONED. when her name is uttered , one is reminded of beautiful but saddened, disquieting eyes, gazes that bore deep into your soul, a touch of serenity, an aura of world-weariness for someone still so young, a tiny flame that flickers in and out, an exquisite smile that was somehow built upon a foundation of hidden but great heartaches, shades of blue and green, soft pink tulips strewn in a messy path. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns. ( fc: alessandra mastronardi ) (( also filling freyja stark’s wc of a best friend + confidante )) * she’s also currently in freyja stark’s retinue of lady-in-waiting and her most trusted counsel *

TW (!!) : relationship abuse, violence, foeticide, death, drug abuse

the following intro below is subject to changes as I’m still plotting out ( + still open for ) connections with other muns!! <3

- she’s the eldest daughter in her family and she has two younger sisters who are twins. she also has a few-to a handful of brothers, one of which is the eldest child and current ruling lord of House Manderly. to her close friends and siblings she was known by her nickname of “Artie”

- Growing up, she was always considered the perfect child. the fillial daughter, the perfect nobleborn girl..everything most proud and lofty nobles wanted as a daughter of a powerful house was in her. This was mainly because, she was born with a natural soft personality, a naive heart and an extremely sharp mind which was very much open and yearing to learn everything anyone wanted to teach her. Spotting and sensing this in their daughter from her toddler years, her overbearing parents then were very determined to mold her into the perfect little lady. To be the one of the brightest jewels of the North that many around the whole realm of Westeros would want and admire.

- Extensively groomed, trained and educated very strictly with no expense spared, the combined efforts of the ruling lord & lady as well as their staff, paid off. She grew up to be a poised and flawlessly elegant lady, perfect in all her mannerisms, behaviour and goldenly-charming social skills. They also made sure to introduce and train her in all kinds of artistic skills and hobbies and to their delight, her ingeniously bright brains which soaked up all kinds of knowledge like a sponge were in perfect sync with her motor skills. Thus, she became very talented in all kinds of artistic ventures. Singing, playing musical instruments, dancing, painting, poetry recitation, embroidery, needlework and even cooking & baking was all nicely packaged into her. She was also well prepped to be the perfect wife and perfect lady that was able to run a large household, knowing how to be organized, pleasing to her future husband and with a knack for numbers and how to efficiently handle the staff. And to add the chery on top, Artie was blessed with insanely beautiful features, making her a lady of great beauty. All in all, it was extremely easy for her parents to receive many bids for her hand in marriage.

- Underneath all this outer layers of seemingly shining perfection, was a person who also grew to be extremely compassionate and kind. a person who always had the biggest smile on her face for everyone she met, no matter what social rank they were, and soft helping hand to anyone in need. a person who was yes indeed loyal to her family, but also couldn’t stand not helping or associating with any stranger she deemed good and was in great need. thus this girl held many secrets in her heart too. secrets that only a small circle of people closest to her knew. so many secrets: that involved helping out anyone who was a victim of her father’s ambition, greed and wrath ; that involved getting accquainted with harmless people whom her family either looked down upon/ despised/ were enemies with ; that involved helping any female which were considered a pariah to a society or suffering for some unjustified reason. She kept this secret actions of hers well, not wanting to incur her parent’s wrath or make trouble for their family name or anyone at all. It also didn’t help that Artie was a passive person and hated confrontations more than anything.

- A lot of her secretive activies was done with the help of some of the servants & staff members of her parent’s household. Eversince she was a little girl, she had long won and charmed their hearts with her patient listening skills, her natural emphathy and her ever willingness to help out in any way. There was no malice or spite or hidden agenda to be found in her, just genuine affection. ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’.  Artie also did not desire to do great things in life., she only wanted to do small things with great love.

- being rigidly perfect all the time was tiring. Artie often did find herself wondering, yearning even to just live the simple life of a smallfolk. her form of release and escape came in the form of horse-riding. her father, knowing the dangers of the ongoing war between the ironborn and the north, made sure that his daughters all knew how to ride welljust incase that they should need to flee for their safety. artie loved her horse immensely and she had a great affinity with that beautiful animal. galloping away hard and fast were one of the biggest joys in her life as well as interacting with the many different people who came to White Harbor’s ports. Most of the people in the city loved the soft, generous and bright girl who alwasy did her best to bring good cheer and happiness into their lives. Thus earning her titles/monikers like The Little Mermaid and The Priceless Pearl of White Harbor, etc..

- in the romance department however, it would seemed that Artie was cursed with bad luck. she was once secretly in love with one of her closests friends, a tender sweet young secret crush, but never had the courage to let him know for fear of losing their enjoyable friendship. when she was about 15/16, she would then be betrothed to a man that was good but unfortunately, try as hard as she might her affections for him, never went beyond platonic. When she was just only turning 18, her bethrothed died due to fighting in the North-Iron war and her ever ambitious father was quick to find her a new fiance. Someone not from the North and even more richer than her first fiance had been. What her parents had no idea of at first that Artie was in the midst of falling deeply in love with another man through secret meetings. He promised her freedom, great love and passion and the lovers arranged to meet in the dark of the night to elope. Doing something incredibly risky for the first time ever, had Artie feeling at her most scared and highly uncertain, and riddled with guilt. However with the sweet promises of her lover lingering in her mind, she still went though with it.

Her lover never showed up. She waited and waited, till she was chilled to the bone at one of the most hidden ports but he never came and she was eventually caught by her parents. Breaking down, repenting and begging for their forgiveness as well as that of her betrothed for being so incredibly foolish & she would take whatever punishment dealt to her nary a sound, she was then pleasantly surprised when her betrothed Lord was so quick to forgive her. He instead largely reassured her that everything was going to be alright as he had already fallen for her. As long as she stayed faithful to him and open her heart to him, he told her that he would wait for however long it takes to earn her romantic love. She instantly agreed. Thus she was very quickly whisked away from The North and to his home to be wed immediately.

The 19 year old Artie was blissfully happy with her new wedded life at first. Her husband was attentive, charming and really seemed very sincere in his efforts to make her fall in love with him. Artie even thought he could heal her heartache & he would turn out to be the dream soulmate she always wished for..... That was her first grave mistake. A few months later, she found out she was pregnant, but there was also the possibility that the child could have been fathered by her former lover. For there was not much time difference between the night she had lain with her ex and her wedding night. Filled with great anxiety and worry, Artie still trusted that her incrediby understanding husband would not be too angered and perhaps allow her to either give away the child to be adopted by a good family or take the child as his own, because there was the possibility that it was truly fathered by him instead of the other. That was her 2nd grave mistake and the final one that Artie had ever made so far in her life up till now.

Her husband was not understanding. He was not kind. In fact, that night when she told him about the whole matter, he showed her his true colours  and that was of a monster. A monster that verbally and physically abused her, and come morning, she had lost the baby.

It took a long time for Artie to heal and survive out her trauma from that horrendous night. When she finally came out of her grief and darkness, she was a very much changed Artemisia. She was no longer naive. She was no longer idealistic nor hopeful about her chances for a happy life any longer. She was no longer trusting and she had no wish to repair the broken pieces of her heart and soul any longer. She lost her liveliness and was now more content being invisible. A wallflower, no longer a radiant rose of any events.

Her husband still tried to bed her, to make her give him his heirs. But that was the main thing, she wanted to refuse him on. He had killed her precious child  and thus he would get no children from her. Finally embracing the craft of sneakiness and silent strategic planning, she found ways to prevent conception through, strange, and creative methods that she had heard from her days of interacting with the several types of people that were in White Harbor. She dared not risk her actions being found out, thus she never once drank Moon Tea, for that was easily detectable by her husband’s maester. The methods she used though highly unorthodox were sucessfull and for the next seven years of her life, she never fell pregnant.

She was the one who in fact, started the rumors that she was infertile and that she had a barren womb. She let the rumors circulate and became widely-spread, making no moves to surpress or deny those claims. She even supported her licentious husband in his taking of many paramours, and pretended that she had long forgiven what he had done. Oh to pretend! She grew to be very good at pretending over the years. The only people she never had to pretend with was several of her household staff who had been genuinely kind and caring of her when she first arrived. With her natural tendancy from her teenage years to be able to bond well with the small folk through her sincerity of heart, she then grew to be loved by them and she loved them back as well.. They were regarded to her as family and they helped their beloved mistress in turn. Being silent and fading into the background has its many perks. One of which was picking up and learning bits and pieces of information that would could be useful to her in the future.

With her long embedded, culinary skills, Artie over the years would once in a while, cleverly slip in drugs like Milk of the Poppy and dreamwine into her cooking and baking for her husband, finding creative means to disguise their flavours well, so that he would never find out. His health ultimately dwindled down as a result of his addiction....but still it would take a long time before he finally died for she couldn’t do it often and had to play it safe. His maester? She managed to find a way to blackmail the man, so that he would never betray her.

However her husband’s death came not fully by her hands but due to his own faults. He had been visiting one of his paramours at an inn where she worked and it so happened that Artie was visiting an ill relative of one of her servants who was also staying in that inn. His  paramour, a young and giddy girl, had wanted to bake him a pie. However one of the ingredients she used was something he was deathly allergic too and since she had only just recently known him, she had no idea of that fact yet. his mind being adled by copius amounts of ale which he had drunk earlier, didn’t think too much of the meal that his girl brough up to him and ate large chunks of it greedily.

Hearing a yell and a crash at one of the rooms and panicked cries just as she was passing by, Artie then burst into the room to help whoever was in trouble. Upon speedily taking in the view of the current situation, she was able to quickly guessed what must have accidentally occured. Telling the terrified girl that she would take care of the situation, Artie then pressed the girl to flee back home silently and wait for further instructions. Once the girl was gone, Artie neared her suffering husband. She had the antidiote for his allergic reaction. He had made her carry it around her being incase of emergencies such as this. However she made no move to help him. She just stared and stared at him with an austere gaze as he struggled horribly to live. Upon his final moments, she finally uttered a chilly sentence, one that he had said to her during the darkest night of her life thus far & one she had long wanted to repeat back to him.

It didnt take much convincing for the young girl to leave the city and make a new life for herself far, far away. Accident or not, his relatives would certainly be out for her blood, and Artie made sure that the girl had enough money and supplies to last her for a while. Finally widowed, Artie then made her way back home to the North, once the funeral and grieving periods were over. When her dearest and longtime childhood best friend, Freyja Stark nee Umber, asked Artie to join her retinue of ladies-in-waiting, she immediately accepted.

The now-mostly quiet young woman’s real happiness only started prickling back into her life once again, after she was reunited with her bestie whom regarded and loved slightly more than her own bliological sisters. For the past 5 years, she has vowed that she never wants to leave being in Freyja's service and side for multiple reasons. The first one mainly being that she wanted to help her queen through sage opinions and advice whenever she asked of her, and to protect Freyja as well. the second main reason...well, she's more than content ( determined in fact) to live the rest of her life as a old maid. Romantic love was never made for her and she held no more dreams of big, wonderful life and a family of her own. Here was where she could finally hold some tiny semblance of peace.

- Artie’s trust nowadays are only reserved for her family members and closest friends. Her life experiences had made her wiser and the knowledge she had accumulated all over the years of her life in different arenas were being used as she became one of the sharpest eyes and ears for her beloved queen. She believed that the real power was with the common people, not the nobles, and here was Artie’s strongest forte, for she had many loyal connections far and wide with the smallfolk.

-She was still kind but only towards children, her loved ones and people she deemed innocent enough after studying them for some time. The Little Mermaid had lost her spark for life and The Priceless Pearl of White Harbor had been crushed to dust.

[soulsofjannah]

The Superiority of Istighfar

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

(الاِسْتِغْفَارُ) is the verbal noun from [اِسْتَغْفَرَ وَيَسْتَغْفِرُ ] to seek Allah’s forgiveness. The word [الغُفُرُ ] means to cover and conceal.

The words, [الغَفُورُ وَالغَفَّارُ وَالغَافِرُ] are all names of Allah and mean the covering of the servants sins and the pardoning him of his errors.

Shaykh Zayd Al-Madkhali said: These three names mean that Allah is vast in virtue and Very Generous in Forgiveness towards repenters, as long as they don’t continue to sin.

These three names all mean the same thing according to the scholars of Tafsir. Allah conceals the sins of the servants who repent, feel remorseful and request His pardon and His forgiveness. [1]

The reality of Istighfar

No human-being is sin free, no of us are infallible, so it’s man’s nature to sin. The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: “Every son of Adam commits sin, and the best of those who commit sin are those who repent.’”[2]

Allah is delighted when we sin and then seeks his forgiveness. This is part of His Mercy. The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “By the One in Whose Hand my soul is, were you not to commit sins, Allah would replace you with a people who would commit sins and then seek forgiveness from Allah; and Allah would forgive them”.[3]

Its worth mentioning here that Istighfar isn’t only done on the tongue which has no impact on the Heart and body. Al-Fudayl ibn Iyyad said: “Seeking Allah’s forgiveness without abandoning the sin is the repentance of liar.”

So seeking forgiveness from Allah also requires us to leave off the sins.

Istighfar is for the Believers.

Allah said: It is not (proper) for the Prophet and those who believe to ask Allah’s Forgiveness for the Mushrikun (polytheists, idolaters, pagans, disbelievers in the Oneness of Allah) even though they be of kin, after it has become clear to them that they are the dwellers of the Fire (because they died in a state of disbelief).[At-Taubah:113]

Allah’s Messenger, (ﷺ) said:

I asked permission to seek forgiveness for my mother from Allah, but He did not grant it to me. I asked permission from Him to visit her grave, and He granted it (permission) to me.”[4]

Allah said: Whether you (O Muhammad ) ask forgiveness for them (hypocrites) or ask not forgiveness for them … (and even) if you ask seventy times for their forgiveness … Allah will not forgive them, because they have disbelieved in Allah and His Messenger (Muhammad ). And Allah guides not those people who are Fasiqun (rebellious, disobedient to Allah).[At-Taubah:80]

These two verses and hadith prove that forgiveness isn’t sought on behalf of the disbelievers and the hypocrites. Istighfar is a special trait that Allah has only favored the Muslims with.

An abandoned Sunnah for Istighfar

The Prophet used to wipe the head of the children and ask Allah to forgiven them. Abu Iyas said, “ My father took me to the Prophet [ﷺ] when I was a young child and the He [ﷺ] wiped my head and asked Allah to forgive me.”[5]

The Wordings used for Istighfar

[‏ رَبِّ اغْفِرْ لِي وَتُبْ عَلَىَّ إِنَّكَ أَنْتَ التَّوَّابُ الرَّحِيمُ]

Narrated Abdullah ibn Umar :

We counted that the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) would say a hundred times during a meeting: “My Lord, forgive me and pardon me; You are the Pardoning and the Forgiving One”.[6]

[أَسْتَغْفِرُ اللَّهَ الَّذِي لاَ إِلَهَ إِلاَّ هُوَ الْحَىُّ الْقَيُّومُ وَأَتُوبُ إِلَيْهِ]

The Prophet (ﷺ) said: If anyone says: “I ask pardon of Allah ,with Whom there is no deity, the Living, the eternal, and I turn to Him in repentance,” he will be pardoned, even if he has fled in time of battle.[7]

[أَسْتَغْفِرُ اللَّهَ وَأَتُوبُ إِلَيْهِ]

Narrated Abu Huraira:

I heard Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) saying.” By Allah! I ask for forgiveness from Allah and turn to Him in repentance more than seventy times a day.[8]

[سَيِّدَ الاِسْتِغْفَارِ]

اللَّهُمَّ أَنْتَ رَبِّي لاَ إِلَهَ إِلاَّ أَنْتَ خَلَقْتَنِي وَأَنَا عَبْدُكَ وَأَنَا عَلَى عَهْدِكَ وَوَعْدِكَ مَا اسْتَطَعْتُ أَعُوذُ بِكَ مِنْ شَرِّ مَا صَنَعْتُ أَبُوءُ لَكَ بِذَنْبِي وَأَبُوءُ لَكَ بِنِعْمَتِكَ عَلَىَّ فَاغْفِرْ لِي فَإِنَّهُ لاَ يَغْفِرُ الذُّنُوبَ إِلاَّ أَنْتَ

(O Allah, You are my Lord, there is no god but You. You have created me and I am Your slave and I am keeping my promise and covenant to You as much as I can. I seek refuge with You from the evil of what I do. I acknowledge Your blessing and I acknowledge my sin, so forgive me, for there is none who can forgive sin except You.)’ If he says this in the morning, believing in it firmly, and dies on that day before evening comes, he will enter Paradise, and if he says it in the evening, believing firmly in it, and dies before morning comes, he will enter Paradise.”[9]

[وَاِسْتَغْفِرِيهُ عُشْرًا]

Um Raf’I when you stand for prayer say, “ Subhanallah 10 times, la illah ilallah 10 times, Al-Hamdulilah 10 times, Allahu Akbar 10 times then say As-staghfurallah 10 times. When you say subhanallah 10 times Allah says this is for me and when you la illah ilallah 10 times Allah says this is for me, and when you say Al-Hamdulilah 10 times Allah says this is for me and when you say Allahu akbar Allah says this is form and when we seek forgiveness after saying those words He says, “ I have forgiven you.”[10]

The times of the day to perform Istighfar

After completing worship

Allah said: Then depart from the place whence all the people depart and ask Allah for His Forgiveness. Truly, Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most-Merciful.[Al-Baqarah:199]

Although this verse was revealed for Hajj, it applies to completing the prayer and other acts of worship that we fall short in performance.

The last hours of the night

Allah said :(They are) those who are patient ones, those who are true (in Faith, words, and deeds), and obedient with sincere devotion in worship to Allah. Those who spend [give the Zakat and alms in the Way of Allah] and those who pray and beg Allah’s Pardon in the last hours of the night.[11]

After completing a class or gathering

سُبْحَانَكَ اللَّهُمَّ وَبِحَمْدِكَ أَشْهَدُ أَنْ لاَ إِلَهَ إِلاَّ أَنْتَ أَسْتَغْفِرُكَ وَأَتُوبُ إِلَيْكَ ‏

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: “Whoever sits in a sitting and engages in alot of empty and meaningless speech and then says before getting up from that sitting of his: [‘Glory is to You, O Allah, and praise, I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship except You, I seek You forgiveness, and I repent to You,] then whatever occurred in that sitting would be forgiven from him.”[12]

Also there is other narration when the prophet [ﷺ] said these words after completing Wudu and reading the Quran.[13]

After burying a Muslim

After the burial of a dead man, the Prophet (ﷺ) would stand by the grave and say, “Ask Allah to forgive your brother and supplicate for him be steadfast ,because he is being questioned (about his deeds) now.”[14]

Seeking Istighfar is the way of the Angels and the Prophets.

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “The angels supplicate in favour of one of you ,so long as he remains in the place where he has performed Salat (prayer) in a state of Wudu’. They (the angels) say: ‘O Allah! Forgive him, O Allah! Have mercy on him.”‘[15]

Adam

Allah said: They said: “Our Lord! We have wronged ourselves. If You forgive us not, and bestow not upon us Your Mercy, we shall certainly be of the losers.”[ Al-‘Araf: 23]

Nuh

Allah said: Nuh (Noah) said: “O my Lord! I seek refuge with You from asking You that of which I have no knowledge. And unless You forgive me and have Mercy on me, I would indeed be one of the losers.”[ Hud :47]

Ibrahim

Allah said: “And Who, I hope will forgive me my faults on the Day of Recompense, (the Day of Resurrection),”[Ash-Shu’ara: 82]

Dawud

Allah said: And Dawud (David) guessed that We have tried him and he sought Forgiveness of his Lord, and he fell down prostrate and turned (to Allah) in repentance.[ Saad: 24]

Sulayman

Allah said: He said: “My Lord! Forgive me, and bestow upon me a kingdom such as shall not belong to any other after me: Verily, You are the Bestower.”[Saad:35]

Musa

Allah said: He said: “My Lord! Verily, I have wronged myself, so forgive me.” Then He forgave him. Verily, He is the Oft-Forgiving, the Most Merciful.[Al-Qasas:16]

The benefits of Istighfar

It’s a command from Allah:

Allah said: So be patient (O Muhammad ). Verily, the Promise of Allah is true, and ask forgiveness for your fault, and glorify the praises of your Lord in the Ashi (i.e. the time period after the midnoon till sunset) and in the Ibkar (i.e. the time period from early morning or sunrise till before midnoon) [it is said that, that means the five compulsory congregational Salat (prayers) or the ‘Asr and Fajr prayers].[Ghafir: 55]

It’s a means to increase your provision:

Allah said: I said (to them): ‘Ask forgiveness from your Lord; Verily, He is Oft-Forgiving;11. ‘He will send rain to you in abundance;12. ‘And give you increase in wealth and children, and bestow on you gardens and bestow on you rivers.’ “[Nuh 10-12]

It’s help one enter Jannah

Refer to the hadith known as “ Sayyidul Istighfar”

It removes sins

Anas (May Allah be pleased with him) said

I heard the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) saying, “Allah, the Exalted, has said: ‘O son of Adam! I shall go on forgiving you so long as you pray to Me and aspire for My forgiveness whatever may be your sins. O son of Adam! I do not care even if your sins were reach up to the sky and should you beg pardon of Me, I would forgive you. O son of Adam! If you come to Me with an earthful of sins and meet Me, without associating anything with Me in worship, I will certainly grant you as much pardon that could fill the earth.”‘[16]

It Repels harm and calamity

Allah said: And Allah would not punish them while you (Muhammad ) are amongst them, nor will He punish them while they seek (Allah’s) Forgiveness.[Al-Anfal:33]

It raises your level in Jannah

The Messenger of Allah(ﷺ) said: “A man will be raised in status in Paradise and will say: ‘Where did this come from?’ And it will be said:’From your son’s praying for forgiveness for you.'”[17]

It cleans the heart

The Messenger of Allah said: “Verily, when the slave (of Allah) commits a sin, a black spot appears on his heart. When he refrains from it, seeks forgiveness and repents, his heart is polished clean. But if he returns, it increases until it covers his entire heart. And that is the ‘Ran’ which Allah mentioned: ‘Nay, but on their hearts is the Ran which they used to earn.’”[18]

The Spiritual Development of Istighfar

It makes the Dunya insignificant in the heart of the servant

Distances the devil from you

Attain Allah’s love

Taste the sweetness of faith and obedience.

Increases intellect and faith

Draws the slave closer to Allah.

Removes stress and worry.

Makes worshipping Allah easier.

Helps to purify your soul and your community from bad deeds.[19]

Acknowledgments : Quranic verses were taken from the Muhammad Taqedeen Al-Hilali.

[1] العمل لاسنى/pg 79

[2] Ibn Majah : 4251 graded as being 4251

[3] Muslim 2749

[4] Muslim #1621

[5] Musnad Imam Ahmed [4/19] graded as Sahih by Shu’ayb Ar-Na’ut

[6] Sunan Abi Dawud 1516

[7] Abu Dawud #1517 graded as Sahih Al-Albani

[8] Al-bukhari#6307/ Muslim 2707

[9] Al-Bukhari 6306

[10] Ibn Sunni amal layl [105/37-38]

[11] Ali Imran : 17

[12] At-Tirmithi#3433/At-Tirmithi graded this hadith as being Hasan Gharib As-Sahih

[13] http://www.abuaaliyah.com/2014/10/14/instead-of-saying-sadaqallahul-atheem-say/

[14] Abu Dawud#946

[15] Al-Bukhari: Book 9, Hadith 1062

[16] At-Tirmithi 1878 Hadith Hasan

[17] Ibn Majah :798 Hasan by Imam al-albani

[18] At-Tirmithi 3334 –Graded as Hasan by Imam Al-Albani.

[19] Refer to [نظرة النعيم/ vol 2/ 302]

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2 thoughts on “The Superiority of Istighfar

[theatrekage]

The people who shaped me

The beginning is a very good place to start, I’ve heard, so we’ll start there. And at the beginning are my parents. I spent a long time idolizing my dad, so he’s fairly safe from this part; he also wasn’t there as much. Here, the story is about my mom. It has to be a story, a tale I’m telling, else I may not get through it all.

My mom loved me. I knew it then, and I know it now. I think she didn’t always like me. She didn’t prefer me. But she tried, and I think sometimes we just didn’t understand each other. The language I needed didn’t exist back then; or I was too young to know it, at least. I was being shaped back then. The imperfections couldn’t be hammered out, but I was hardened into silence and obedience. And wholly unprepared for the future.

My mom, my sister, and I spent most of our time together. (Do forgive the following jumble; I was young, so the order is uncertain and some things I remember, some I have been told.) We’d watch sad movies, and they would weep while I remained stoic. It wasn’t that I wasn’t sad; I was the only one left to be strong for them. It succeeded in me being teased for having an ice heart. I was told I didn’t cry because I couldn’t feel.

We’d go shopping for clothes as we grew. An ordeal. Sami is two years my junior, and matched me for size growing up. She couldn’t wear my hand-me-downs, even if she wanted to. And she didn’t. I liked jeans and dragons and tshirts; she liked dresses and whatever else existed in the girls’ section at the time. Mom hated that I wanted what the boys wore when I got to be old enough to reject what she picked for me. I wore my hair short as it was, and people had started mistaking me in public. The older I got, the more we fought, the more it hurt me. I didn’t understand. I just wanted to be comfortable. I didn’t care people thought I was a boy; it was only inconvenient at public restrooms sometimes. We fought about it until I went to college.

She thought I was so much like my dad and so little like her. I learned later that she saw some commercial and thought it amusing, but it didn’t matter at the time. Mom would tease that my dad had had a mistress and that I’d been left on their doorstep, and she raised me out of the goodness of her heart. I remember laughter. And I remember it was a recurring joke for a while. And I remember never opposing, even though I felt rejected every time. After all, I had an ice heart; I couldn’t let them know I could feel.

By the time I was looking for colleges, I refused anything that touched a state where I had family. I wanted no one to visit easily, and I didn’t want to be able to return easily. My search took me as far as the east coast. Even then, I knew that once I left, I was never going back home. I’d live in a box before I lived at home again. And though we’ve made some strides in reconciliation on our past, and ignoring recent setbacks, I’ll still never go back to my parents.

But now we’re in college. Alone and friendless and not missing home one iota. I met a boy, a young man at orientation, and he let me follow him about a bit. He seemed to just attract people, and suddenly there was a group of friends, and I was there. They all lived in a different dorm, but I was willing to make the walk to hang out. And that’s where I met him. Martin Droge.

Let me preface this all by saying that I’d never had a boyfriend and I had never even kissed a boy until the summer before college. That was brief and wild and he almost died on drugs I paid for; but that’s a different story. I was wholly inexperienced and had a rather twisted sense of self-worth. I then had a brief romance with another young man, but we were different in too many ways, and he rejected me. I didn’t know what “healthy” looked or felt like; I only knew that I wanted to feel “wanted.”

I had other dalliances in my freshman and sophomore years, but the only true purpose they serve is to remind me that I did once know that my voice meant something, and that when I said “no,” people once did listen.

Martin wasn’t particularly attractive, but he was smart and lean and someone that I knew. I didn’t know how to flirt or express attraction; these were things that had happened to me, and he wasn’t doing them. Eventually something won out though, because he did take notice. We had a series of encounters. When he wanted them, and he paid me no mind when we were with our friends.

I remember at least once trying to tell him no. I was on my period, already embarrassing, and I had a tampon in, even worse. So I didn’t want to. But he didn’t care. I don’t remember all of the exchange. I remember neither of us removed the tampon; we did have sex; I panicked in the bathroom after, trying to fish the smushed wad of cotton out of my body. It took me a long time to recall this memory as an example, when I was later trying to explain what had happened to me to myself. The parts I remember now are the parts I won’t ever be able to forget.

I remember when I was very sick my sophomore year, he came when I called. At least briefly. I later went to the ER. I remember being hurt when he started dating a freshman. I remember it was still winter.

I was working a small show. Not even a show. A lecture of sorts. I needed someone to help do lights so I could run the sound. I don’t know why I asked him. I wanted us to be friends, I guess. He showed up saying he was tired; he looked it. The room was small and dark and right above people’s heads, including my department head; I couldn’t mess up and I couldn’t be loud.

He kept tickling me, and I kept telling him to be quiet and stop it. And I’m sure there was some playfulness in it. This was someone I knew and trusted. When the lecture ended, there were questions after; we had nothing to do but sit and wait. He kept tickling me, until I moved to a corner on the floor. He watched me. And I said the most awful words that I will never be able to erase from my soul: “If you want me, you’ll have to come down and get me.”

And he did. I was wearing my baggy jeans with both knees ripped seam to seam. Gaping maws exposing my flesh. The tickling turned to groping and feeling and familiarity. I remember being bent under his body. I clawed at the ground and clawed at him, silent. My mind wailed and cried and begged for a sound, any sound. I prayed for someone to call out for me. For someone to find us. For God to save me, if only just this once. But no one came.

When he began to reach for buttons, I found enough voice to say that we needed to go; everyone was gone, and my professor might come looking for us. So we did leave. We walked back to the student union. And I bought him food. And we went back to the dorm and to our separate rooms. We were still texting.

I have to pause here to reconcile some of this. If only to remind myself. The relationship that we had was one in which I begged and he came to me out of the goodness of his heart. It took many years to sift through the memories and pull out examples and patterns. I had to understand what the hell I was thinking. What made me silent. And what made me invite him up to my room to finish the job.

I don’t remember it. I know he arrived. And I know he left. I remember going to the shower after and sitting on my shoes and crying. I didn’t understand, and I felt disgusting. And I just couldn’t.

A lot happened after that. Little things. Carelessness and dangerous choices. I didn’t care and no one could understand something I didn’t myself. I walked into that snow storm. I sat on a curb and thought about sleeping there. I drank too much. But I survived.

And I’ve been rebuilding ever since. Nine years.

[gathering-storm]

Unseen Savior (drabble)

There he sat, legs dangling off the edge of a seldom used bridge. The pain in his eyes resonated with the icy chill of the crystal waters below, hair matted from lack of care.....he had to reason to care anymore, all effort seemed pointless. ‘guess no one found my note....or no one cares’ he thought to himself whilst giving one last glance around to see if he was wrong, to check if someone had come to show him the love and compassion he craved. His final words to his family and friends had been lain out the night before upon a single piece of lined notebook paper in his finest handwriting, each word carefully chosen to tell of his grief and his desires for forgiveness in a way that would emphasize his lack of will to continue without seeming as a cry for aid....the time to help had long come and gone. With a gulp of trepidation he stood, shaky limbs coursing with adrenaline as he peered at the rushing water below “just one step...then its over” he mumbled, lips tasting the cold of this early winter morn, images of his life flashing in his tattered mind. Every abuse, every bit of bigotry directed towards him, every mention of his depression being “just a phase” weighing on him like an entire world resting upon the tired shoulders of his soul, pushing him onward to the only solution capable of ending the agony once and for all. “this is best”, he whispered raising his right foot, set to step over the edge and embrace eternity....the white-capped water looked so welcoming, so inviting, so....soft....a torrential hug from nature before the reaper took him, “farewell...” he finished, his breath coming as steam in front of him as though his soul had already started to leave him. His forefoot fell, his weight beginning to tip over the edge....his eyes closing in anticipation for the impact soon to come. ‘3...2....1′ he mentally counted only to realize he was not falling a moment later, a weight on his shoulder was keeping him in place...a hand perhaps? ‘no’, he pondered sorrowfully in sheer doubt, ‘I must just be hesitant without realizing it’ he considered, unknowingly doing so out loud “no, it is not your hesitation which halts you”, a warm, raspy voice responded as the weight, the hand, became heavier, pulling the forlorn man from the edge gradually, “’tis a friend.” This voice jolted his eyes open, his head turning toward the source rapidly, portals to a broken heart running with tears upon seeing the gentle face looking to him. Long silver hair draped the head of this stranger, their cheeks rounded but strong, chin square yet soft. Their skin bore the wrinkles of age, lines accrued over years meshed with some semblance of remaining youth “please, I beg of you, reconsider”, spake this self paradoxical male, “you have much to live for, even if ‘tis not readily obvious.” he encouraged with careful precision, each word emphasized in the way a doting father might speak to a injured youth. “I doubt that....”, came the downtrodden man’s response, the bitterness in his voice nearly as biting as the air itself, a voice without hope is often so, “if I have so much to keep going for, why can’t I see it?” he asked with no expectation of an answer beyond the ever generic vein of ‘you don’t trust ______ deity enough’ or some other such patronizing condescension. “you are seeing life through the eyes of a wounded fighter blind to all else but the pain consuming you”, the other explained softly whilst pressing subtly on his shoulder, gradually motioning for him to sit only to take a position beside him behind the bridge’s railing, “I can see in your eyes a spirit injured by judgement, hatred, anger and perceived abandonment”, he continued looking deep into their hazel orbs, the brown overtaking its green companion, “you feel each injustice as a dagger to your heart, blade digging in as if driven by the hand of an unseen tormentor....” “And this helps me how?” he questioned, shocked by this entity’s insight, his expression and vocal tone showing the surprise. “all you’ve done is psychoanalyze me..” he added once more looking over the edge, gaze focused on every ripple and hard wave below “to solve any problem, one must first acknowledge and be willing to face it”, his companion answered directing, with a finger on his chin, his gaze back onto him, “think not of the crashing waters as your release, picture instead they are an abstract representation of your inner turmoil”, he instructed before standing, free hand still on the shoulder of  this man he sought to save, “turn your gaze further downstream, on the other side of this bridge”, he coached, motioning to a bend in the water where the icy depths slowed to a peaceful stream, vicious foam replaced with a gentle trickle courtesy of a gated dam sitting mostly closed, “though at first sight where the coursing is at its most violent the river may seem unruly, unrestrained, where there is aid it calms to a gentle brook.” “yeah, that’s the problem, no one ever tried to help me...” the younger male replied watching the calmer flow, starting to in some measure understand the metaphor presented him, “I was always fed that line of it being temporary, about it just being a phase....I’ve struggled with this most of my life...” “I will not lie to you, I cannot promise should you rescind your desire for death this day you shall be cured, that all the pain will depart like a storm wafted away by a gentle breeze”, the softer man replied, the method in his words sincere, stalwart and unshaking ,yet filled with subdued emotion and brimming with honest compassion, “there will be times in the days, the months, the years to come when this doubt shall return in force, the same drive may again consume you...but I implore you to look past the darker voices plaguing your thoughts and to focus instead upon where the water is peaceful...there is always something to strive for, be it great or small.” His honesty caught the wounded man off guard, expecting only some placating reply instead of such a point-blank answer “like what?” he asked choking back the tide of feelings threatening to bubble forth. “The kiss of a warm morning’s breeze caressing your face as you wake, the chorus of birds singing their lovely songs like a choir from heaven, the refreshing splash of water upon your skin as you enter a shower set to the temperature you prefer and the scents of your favorite bodywash”, he replied with a lyrical cheer to him, “your favored music played only for you from within your devices, the innocent charm of a feline’s or canine’s face looking to you for attention, hope for a love that shall surely come or one which has, your career or the one you hope to have”, he listed, each one carefully considered before being spoken, “these are but some of the things often overlooked which give reason to even the most downtrodden of lives, embrace them as one would a treasured stuffed animal or close friend, let their warmth chase the chill from you.” With each example listed the sensations accompanying them briefly flowed through this suicidal man, every one bringing alongside it a measure of comfort as the message sunk in, burrowing past the doubt, past the pain. Unable to restrain himself further, he embraced his savior, arms cinching tightly around him while he burrowed his face into their chest, soaking their sparrow-tailed suit in the wet emblems of his troubles “yes, let all your woes flow unto me, may the weight be relieved you”, they encouraged, a gentle hand upon his head stroking his black hair in smooth soft lines from back to front, “focus on my words and the beating of my heart, the rhythm calming the storm within you.” “why...why do you care so much?” the now whimpering man questioned between strangling knots in his throat, looking up to the face of this mysterious stranger “you deserve not death, you deserve not judgement, you deserve....compassion and tender care”, came the response as a soft kiss was placed upon his forehead, “‘tis my duty, my honor to aid those such as yourself who need a shoulder upon which to cry or a figure to see them into brighter days.” “who are you?” the man asked, managing to stifle himself, his thoughts no longer on an end and instead on the future given him with his refusal to give up “Amaru is the name I prefer”, the caring entity answered with a smile, “as to the nature of my existence, it is as I have done.”. He stood, motioning for the other do so as well only to embrace him the moment they were both to their feet before retreating, leaving only his hands upon their shoulders “should you ever require my presence again, merely speak my name...”, he advised, tone trembling somewhat, hinting at a soon farewell, “there are others in need, thus for now, this must be goodbye.” With those last words, Amaru vanished, his warming presence lingering for the rest of the day, wherever the one whose life he had saved traveled, an ethereal hug constantly around him as a reminder of both whom he had met and what he had overcome.

[whisker-biscuit]

Starry-Eyed

*Based on the beautiful artwork by @crysptrsh, please go check it out!*

Summary: Skout accidentally encounters the Nomad when everyone else is too far off to be of assistance. They share a bit of an unwilling soul search, and the spittoon girl learns that the world is a lot more complicated than she wanted to believe. 

And some things shine brighter than the stars.

Skout had done it. She still couldn’t believe it, that she’d managed to accomplish what so many others had failed to do for over a century, but here she was, standing in front of a simple animal snare that had caught prey unlike any she’d ever expected.

Skout had captured the Nomad.

It was a bit of a lucky thing though, if the girl was honest with herself. She and the crew had been traveling into near-sunset when they had found a rare patch of cactus and desert shrubs, spanning a good several miles at least and very difficult to navigate. Toth, spirited and impatient, had ordered the majority of her group to start working through the undergrowth despite its treachery. The Y’dala woman herself took a smaller team to split up and ride around the perimeter – a task that would take the rest of the evening.

Of course Skout had begged to join, but ever since the encounter with the beast in the Nowhere storm, Toth had been bouncing between avoiding her spittoon girl in harsh silence and hovering over her like a mother hen. It was confusing, and frustrating, and Skout was just about ready to tear her hair out.

Jethro had been the one to suggest that someone stay behind with the larger wagon and set up camp, since it was obvious they’d be here for possibly a few days. Toth was against the idea until she realized it’d be a good way to both keep Skout out of harm’s way and ignore her at the same time, so she had assigned the poor girl the job with no room for further argument. One other Dandy-Lion was voted to keep her company, “just in case”, and then the group had departed.

After the tents were set up and a fire was built, Skout was left to her own devices as her companion decided he was taking an afternoon nap. He told her, settling himself onto the dusty desert ground, that the likelihood of the Nomad being here – or anyone really – was pretty slim. Skout was usually optimistic but she felt a little inclined to agree with him.

So now, two hours after arriving, she could maybe forgive herself for being a little slack-jawed at the sight.

The Nomad was stuck in a bit of a squat, his right arm inside the low-hanging, hollowed-out cactus arm Scout had set up to snare an animal for dinner. He was very still and very wide-eyed, left hand still gripping at the crook of his elbow in an interrupted attempt to pull out of the trap.

“You, yer arm’s stuck,” Skout said quietly, dumbly. She shook her head to snap out of her shock. “What’re you doin’ here, Nomad?”

That was enough to pull her catch out of his own freeze up, because he started tugging more frantically at his trapped appendage. The girl scampered up quickly in order to stop his struggling and the Nomad flinched back so violently he fell on his behind. His arm was bent at an awkward angle, uncomfortable but probably not painful.

“Hey, hey now, don’t be doin’ that! You’ll pull a muscle or somethin’!” She lightly scolded. “What am I s’pposed to tell everyone if you go gettin’ yerself hurt?”

But the Nomad wasn’t listening. He looked terrified, keeping as much distance between them as he could while still tugging desperately at the cactus snare. When Skout inched closer his shoulders jolted up to his neck and he tried to clap his hands through the plant. It didn’t work and the poor thing got a gloveful of prickly needles for his efforts.

Skout wasn’t really sure what to do at this point. She could go back to the camp to grab her fellow sleeping Dandy-Lion, but it was a fifteen minute push through the brush one way and leaving the Nomad alone was just asking for him to escape.

She could shout for help, maybe, but the search party had set out hours ago and would have good distance, careful searching or not. It was also starting to get dark, and she didn’t have a flare or anything to signal where she was.

The best option would have been to bring the Nomad back herself, but she faced two problems with this. First, she was recovering from her injuries. The moment the girl had gotten off her crutches she had demanded to jump back into the fray, and it was the only debate she’d managed to win against Toth since the incident. The exertion of walking alone for this long was difficult, much less hauling along an unwilling companion.

Secondly, the Nomad was acting…much more skittish than the last time she’d interacted with him. Sure, they’d been pursuing and evading each other for weeks now, and there wasn’t any doubts about which members of the group were willing to bring him back in less than one piece, but something about this was…different.

Wrong.

So, with a quiet resigned huff and a painful sigh, Skout sat against a brittle shrub to consider her dilemma. She brought up her legs halfway to her chest and draped her arms tiredly across her knees, eyes distant while the Nomad heaved and panted in front of her.

“What’m I supposed to do?” The girl near-whispered. “If I go messin’ this up again, Toth could get in a whole lotta trouble again.”

The two made brief unexpected eye-contact before the Nomad’s face turned abruptly to the side, still clearly terrified. Skout huffed again and picked absentmindedly at a scab on her thumb.

“And you ain’t been helpin’ things much, Friend. Actin’ all afraid a’ me like that. I ain’t that scary…am I?”

The Nomad blinked up at the girl and gave a tiny, timid shake of his head, and Skout frowned.

“Ya say that, but I’m not much reassured, Mister Nomad.” She looked at him again, studied him a little more closely. “Why’s everyone so upset at you, anyhow? I know you’ve been doin’ magic and all that rule-breakin’ stuff, but…what makes ya so special to get everyone up in a tilly?”

The words made her captive tense as a rattlesnake. He stopped struggling to stare at her, an expression on his face that was half pleading, half disbelief, and mixed together to form 100% distress. Skout would have been unnerved, but everything about the last few weeks had been unnerving and she was sick of the feeling.

“And, why ya gotta be bundled up so much too? The desert is plenty cold enough at night for that, but it ain’t so kind durin’ the day.” She scooted up to him on her butt, green eyes starting to fill with the inquisitiveness she used to be more famous for.

Whatever the Nomad was seeing, however, he wasn’t liking at all. He tried to kick backwards, and when his trapped arm stopped the movement he instead tried to hide fetal-position behind the hollowed cactus. Skout was having none of it.

“Come on, Friend, I ain’t gonna hurtcha! I just wanna,” the girl paused. “Actually, I don’t really much know what I want. I guess. Maybe…” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe I could just see yer face? Is that alright?”

Her captive uncurled just a bit to watch warily. His gaze drifted down her body, and Skout realized with a start that he was looking for weapons. She almost snorted in irritated amusement.

“Nah, I ain’t got nothin’ dangerous on me, Toth has been real weird lately, not lettin’ me do nothin’ useful. I dunno why she still wants me here, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The Nomad leaned around the snare, closer than he’d been willing to get before, and Skout’s breath almost caught at the brightness of his eyes in the growing dusk. She tentatively reached a hand out, not quite closed into a fist.

“Can I? Please? Just one look?”

Her fingers brushed against the rim of his hat, but he didn’t wince away. The Nomad remained completely rigid, with a slight twitch to his body like a reluctant marionette with no other way out. Skout took the hat off and turned it this way and that, respectful but curious. She didn’t notice nervous tears forming in her captive’s face.

Next came the bandana, wrapped so tightly around the Nomad’s face and neck it was a miracle he wasn’t suffocating, in her opinion. She gently pulled it down and made a startled noise when she couldn’t see an obvious mouth.

“Uh, well.” Skout stammered as the Nomad made himself a little smaller. “I uh, I’m sure lots a folks don’t have mouths! It ain’t that uncommon, promise!”

But she was even more eager to see the rest of his face now, and the head scarf was grabbed a little faster, with a little less consideration of his comfort level. The Nomad jerked back at her action and ended up coming right out of the headwear. It remained stuck in Skout’s hand, but she didn’t notice.

Because the sight before her was nothing short of incredible.

Pitch, fluffy hair swept up in a current of soft innocence, highlighting a slim, childlike face. Eyes, once tempered by so much faded orange, now glowed in beautiful brilliance against the deepest of dark skin, and the tears still prickling at their corners added the illusion of liquid light circling two dazzling moons. The lack of mouth and nose were no longer disconcerting, but ethereal. As if to complete the celestial picture was the sky, finally reaching that point of showing stars but not so opaque as to obscure everything else.

It was unlike anything Skout had ever seen before.

It was magical.

“Flippin’ flapjacks,” she breathed, drawing the scarf close to her collarbone. “That’s, this – you’re beautiful.”

The Nomad remained still, tears threatening to spill and shimmer down unmarred cheeks. He – they – made a move as if to take the scarf back, then stopped and recoiled. Skout blinked dazedly and slowly came out of her trance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she passed the piece of clothing back and the Nomad accepted it gratefully, managing to wrap it back on properly even with only one hand available. The bandana came back up to cover the bottom half of their face, and with a hesitant tap they took back their hat, pressing it snugly on top of their head like a security blanket.

The girl tried to get the amazing image out of her mind, but no amount of blinking or headshaking could do it. She picked at her scab without looking at it.

“So uh, I don’t s’ppose yer gonna come back with me if I ask nicely, huh.” Skout grimaced when she received an incessant ‘no’ in all forms of body language. “That’s what I thought. Dang it, How’m I gonna explain this to everyone?”

Her captive seemed just a little less fearful for their life, because a half shrug was her answer. The spittoon girl sighed and looked up at the evening sky.

“You know, there’s so many stories ‘bout before magic disappeared. Sometimes Toth tells ‘em to me, when she’s in a good enough mood. It always sounds so amazin’, and I’ve always wanted to see it with my own eyes.”

Skout went quiet for a few seconds and just watched the stars twinkle. “And then I gotta chance to meet you, and – now don’t get me wrong, those little critters you make are right plum outta the fantasy books, but this…I ain’t never realized how special it really is, I guess. You’re really special. Honestly. And I wanna help Toth and help her people, that’s why I’m still goin’ with her even though…even though she ain’t been too happy with me lately. But I don’t…what happens after all that? Where do you go? Why does El Ray want you so bad?”

Something anxious and troubled leaked into the Nomad’s eyes then, and if Skout didn’t know better she’d say they knew exactly what would happen to them. But that was impossible. It was probably just the fear talking.

“When we came here today, nobody really thought we’d see you. I think Toth’s the only one who wanted to search this place. Maybe…just this once,” she hesitated, and stared into the subdued radiance of the Nomad’s eyes. “Maybe I could just…not find nothin’ in this trap. Maybe it just sprung by itself somehow, cause that, that happens sometimes, right?”

The Nomad’s expression was bordering towards disbelief and the first inkling of hope, even as tears still glimmered along their skin. Skout wanted to cry too, at the unfairness of it all. She took ahold of her captive’s free hand and clasped it in her own, willing them to look at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Twenty minutes later, the sleeping Dandy-Lion woke to find Skout stumbling into the camp, dirty and tired and rather listless. He propped himself up on one arm and watched her.

“Did the traps catch anything?”

And Skout looked at the night sky again, at stars that were once so inviting when she had been younger, and more naïve to the complicated nature of things. They weren’t like that anymore.

“Nah, nothin’. I think you’re right, ain’t nothing worthwhile here at all.”

They weren’t like that, because she had started to lose that naivety, that stupid belief in a black and white world and her ability to know the difference.

But in return, she had received a glimpse of something even more magnificent. Something worth protecting even if she didn’t know how to do it yet. And it wasn’t just a visible sight, either.

Because after she’d freed them, before the two parted ways again and she’d started the trek back –

The Nomad had hugged her.

I love this series and I love crysptrsh’s amazing talent and I love the fluffy-haired Nomad theory. I just love everything tbh - thanks for reading!

[vuulpecula]

FAR CRY FIVE.

      Born in Saint Petersburg, Russia, religion has always played a major part in Fox’s life. Her father, a devout member of the Russian Orthodox Church, believed that God had chosen him to change and shape the world. Forgiving his violence and allowing him to repent upon his own daughter. A creature he saw as a heavenly vessel in which he may confess and cleanse himself of all sins. To her, he changed and shaped religion into something far more sinister than it was ever meant to be. Leaving Fox wanting a holy being to exist and yet, believing that there could not be one for she saw the wretchedness of men and how they were not punished. This plays a big part later when it comes to the Project at Eden’s Gate, for it sounds like the God she has hoped for, though she is wary. Hope County, Montana could either change her views or solidify them. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: violence, religion, abuse, child abuse, abuse against women, gun violence, gun use, alcohol, drugs, forced drug use, kidnapping, blood, scars, mutilation, rebellion, murder, forced killing, & death. ( if there are any more you’d like me to tag/that i’ve missed, please let me know! ).

WHY MONTANA.     Following Fox’s original storyline ( of which you can find HERE ), her mother again takes her away from Russia and her father. However, she’s older than in her canon, leaving her Saint Petersburg around the age of fourteen. Rather than returning to Ireland, Nessa Alkaev takes her daughter to the United States, specifically southern Louisiana, to live with distant extended family. Citizenship was obtained within the first few years and life went on in the sultry south, far from the snowy northern lands Fox knew and loved.        By eighteen, Fox had held three jobs, trying to save up money for a higher education -- something neither of her parents achieved. Unfortunately, hardship clung to the bloodline. After a semester, she was forced to drop out to use the money earned for her mother’s medical expenses instead. Nessa died before her daughter turned twenty-one. Fox continued to work hard, but the state only reminded her of all she loathed in life and she was never made for such a climate. Returning to Russia was not an option, so, she searched north. Scouring ads for any sort of affordable property in any state. Hope County, Montana just happened to have an opening. Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps it was again just bad luck.

BABY DOLL I RECOGNIZE YOUR HIDEOUS THING INSIDE; IF EVER THERE WERE A LUCKY KIND ITS YOU. ➝ x | v. baby doll I recognize your hideous thing inside; if ever there were a lucky kind it’s you ( FAR CRY 5 ONE. )

       After hours and hours, days and days, months and months, a property became available online in a place called Hope County, Montana. The home itself was small, hardly bigger than a trailer, but it would suit Fox fine. Once part of a much larger farm, the family had hit hardship and were looking to lease out the house and the small portion of land it resided on for an extremely reasonable price. Maybe it was too reasonable. Fox packed up her possessions and moved immediately. Her bank account aching and her heart yearning for the years first snow. Nestled in the eastern section of the Holland Valley, Fox immediately fell in love with the land. The people began to grow on her, though the presence of a strange religious movement kept her wary.        Religion has always found a way into her life, impacting negatively no matter how hard she tried to believe. It’s what made Joseph Seed’s surmons so believable and influencing. However, once the cult turned to violence, they lost all validity. Joining the Resistance was never a question, it was simply something that had to be done.        In this verse, Fox is just like most others in the Resistance. She can be found in various parts of the map depending on where threads are set. Her prefered method of harm is to not harm, however that is not an option when it comes to Eden’s Gate. For weapons, she relies more on long-range items due to her patience while behind a gun. This stems from skills taught as a child. Though she is also good with hand-to-hand combat, using her size and statue to her advantage. 

✖ AESTHETIC BOARD FOR THIS VERSE LOCATED H E R E. ( tba. )

2. MY HEARTS AFLAME MY BODYS STRAINED BUT GOD I LIKE IT. ➝ x | v. my hearts aflame my body’s strained but god I like it ( FAR CRY 5 TWO. ) 

      As mentioned above, Fox was unable to finish college when first applying. It wasn’t such a bad thing, as she was not sure of what she wanted to be when she grew up, per say. Seeing police officers at her door was never an oddity, but they became figures of the community she could trust, she could rely on, and after speaking with one who she came to know personally, Fox decided she would try to apply. To become a beacon of hope for other men, women, and children who needed one ( and to fight against the corruption she saw to restore faith in the badge where it was lost ). With a more steady income, she was able to achieve an Associates Degree in Criminal Justice. Again, after her mother died, Louisiana and the small town she came to know as home only haunted her. Job hunting brought her to a Junior Deputy position at a place called Hope County. It was north enough and paid enough, so she applied.        Depending on the verse, Fox either becomes the Junior Deputy or she is simply part of Sheriff Whitehorse’s office by the time the next Junior Deputy arrives. Due to her past, she has a lot of anger when it comes to religion and it only fuels the fire when shit hits the fan. Although her heart tells her not to arrest Joseph Seed with the Marshal, she does anyway because it is what’s right. Everything she does after is to save as many innocent people as she can while taking down the cult. If it were up to her, she would not kill any of the Father’s Heralds if able. Refusing to play into his biblical prophecies. In the ending scene, she would choose neither of the options given, instead becoming devout. Begging for forgiveness and for her soul to remain with him in exchange for the others to go free. Their freedom and safety is her only concern, especially those within her own department.        When it comes to weapons, she can handle most anything, through prefers hand-to-hand to subdue opponents. Literally, she will arrest all cult members AND do all the paperwork if she has to. Don’t talk to me about Eli & Virgil btw bc I will vibrate with emotion. 

✖ AESTHETIC BOARD FOR THIS VERSE LOCATED H E R E. ( tba. )

3. WON’T YOU LAY YOUR HANDS ON ME; MIRROR MY MALADY; TRANSFER MY TRAGEDY.  ➝ x | v. won’t you lay your hands on me; mirror my malady; transfer my tragedy ( FAR CRY 5 THREE. ) 

      After moving to Hope County, it wasn’t long before Fox came into contact with the Project at Eden’s Gate. She attends one of the ‘tent revival surmons’ in which she is swayed. As someone who suffered an incredibly abusive past ( one in which her abuser used religion as a way to excuse what he did, twisting it around until God was nothing good ), listening to Joseph Seed speak felt as if he knew her. He knew the soul of her. So, she left her new home and joined the project.        As for the ‘siblings’, Fox identifies greatly with John. He is someone, especially after the violence erupts, that she could’ve seen herself becoming. A great fear of hers and a huge reason as to why when the violence does begin happening, she tries not to participate or leave. Faith is an uncertanty. Fox can’t tell when she’s lying and the Bliss terrifies her. As much as she wishes she could be someone else, someone with a different past, losing other emotions and feelings isn’t worth it. Jacob is distant, she can’t quite understand if he’s hurting or if something inside him is broken beyond repair. His methods and thoughts remind her of her father, which only aids in the fear ( and helps lessen the effects of conditioning ).        Depending on verse, Fox may be with anyone in any region. Despite being a part of the cult, she is willing to save anyone from harm and will try ( as long as it doesn’t put her life in as great a risk ). She questions Eden’s Gate softly and plays both sides. Literal angel. Literal pure creature of God. 

✖ AESTHETIC BOARD FOR THIS VERSE LOCATED H E R E. ( tba. )

**DISCLAIMER: Again, as always, the above verses are not set in stone. They can be changed and tweaked to better match certain rps. They can also be added to or new ones can form, these are simply the ones I have already fleshed out. If you have any questions about the above, or if you’re looking for something a little bit more, please don’t hesitate to reach out! xo.

[echoness]

Confirmation

It’s the first time I ever write an “old couple” style fanfic in English. If you find anything unsuitable please let me know. ​​

=========================================

It’s been a week since the Watcher confronted Eothas. With the Wheel broken, Aloth doesn’t really know what will become of kith of the upcoming generation on Eora. Whatever happens, he doubts that his own effort would change anything, that’s what the Watcher has taught him. The wisdom of not overthinking on everything is a welcoming change of pace. Thinking back on what he has accomplished, his past seems always shrouded in a heavy mist. He didn’t choose his birthright, his family, his Awakening. But the decision led him journey alongside the Watcher is like a ray of sunshine that cast into his life. He never feels the need to worry about the next destination, wherever the Watcher goes, it’s the right direction.

The moment when the Watcher committed her affection to Aloth, he felt two twisted forces conflicting inside his chest. He really enjoyed the Watcher’s company, that’s for sure. Five years ago when he revealed his true identity to her, hoping nothing but her forgiveness.

“I forgive you, Aloth.” the Watcher said without hesitation, “But I want you beside me, not behind me. I’m not asking you to trade one master for another.”

It’s been a long while since he ever remembered anybody gave him the vast amount of respect and understanding. Being around with the Watcher feels… easy, natural. Not that she’s a druid and the soothing spells she can cast during battles, the power she draws from nature. It’s the way she’s been doing things. Sometimes he might not agree with that much credit she gave to the undeserving, or flattery words just to please some higher-ups. She may say something tedious yet follows her heart and does some good. It opens Aloth’s eyes that a person could process such multitasks, as long as her heart is in the right place, he’s probably in no position to judge. Perhaps he values the unspoken wisdom the Watcher shows during their journey, that to resolve a situation with extreme measure is a recipe for disaster. Aloth didn’t want to lose her, if he could peer into her soul, it certainly shines like a beacon drawing him closer each step ahead.

Somehow, he had too much responsibilities on his shoulders, he couldn’t rely too much on the Watcher, especially five years ago when she gave him the opportunity to reform the Leaden Key, to do something good on his own. He sure wouldn’t like to squander the faith she put into him. The consequences of his action didn’t turn to his favor, and he knew the uncertainty of his duty, to some extent it might cost his life. To commit his feeling towards the Watcher could bring her long term pain if they were to depart once again.

Now Aloth is standing on the Defiance’s deck alone, with sea breeze brushing through his hair. The sun is about to set upon Serpents Crown. Everything around him feels quiet, serene even. Fresh air and a clear head sound as normal as they do, they were luxury in Aloth’s past life, especially when Iselmyr’s constant babbling plagued his mind. Which reminds him the promise the Watcher keeps – privacy and space. She never bothered him unless there’s something really important, or Eder came up with a joke he would like to share where the Watcher came joining the fun. Reflecting on what the Watcher said after their first kiss, Aloth has to admit that he never thought of the “enjoy our time together” option before. To him, love is the equal measure of responsibility, respect, passion and collaboration. His past shaped him into a man of solitude, and he feared for the uncertainty of the future. Yet he forgot, of all the kith on Eora, everyone lives in the present. The closest thing he overlooked all the time, is the “present” the Watcher has given back to him. They have been sharing more and more private moments together since then.

After the final confrontation with Eothas, the other companions departed one by one, pursuing their own newfound goals. The Defiance is awfully quiet at the moment. It’s strange how Aloth misses friends like Eder, Xoti, Pellagina and Maia. He doubts that their path would ever cross again, for he and the Watcher are going back to the Eastern Reach.

Speaking of which, the Watcher is still in Captain’s cabin. And there’s still a question lingering in Aloth’s mind. He grabs a bottle of Forgetful Night from the lower deck, then walks towards Captain’s cabin, takes a deep breath, then knocks on the door.

“Knock knock.” the Watcher sounds like she’s about to laugh out loud.

“I would like to talk to you… if you don’t mind.” Aloth tries to keep his gesture serious.

“Of course not, please come in.”

The Watcher is reading a book, it’s…

“Is that my grimoire?” whatever Aloth was going to say, it’s wiped away by his grimoire in her hands. He hasn’t used his own grimoire since she gave him Arkemyr’s grimoire. He entrusted his grimoire to her but had no idea she’s interested in learning advanced arcane arts. The Watcher lowers the leather bound book and sits up straight: “Uh, yea, I know druid spells are quite different from wizard’s, but I could still learn how to channel elemental energy more effectively. It’s a bit tricky but I think it’ll work.”

Aloth sets the bottle of Forgetful Night on the desk, arms across in front of his chest with his left eye brow lifted:” Are you still thinking about beating me on the enemy account?” It’s a little competition between him and the Watcher, about who would get most kills after each fight. Aloth usually wins.

“Heh, you know me too well.” The Watcher grins back to him.

Aloth sits down beside her and puts a hand on her shoulder: “Not that you are also trying to heal my wounds. My account can hardly qualify my skills. I’m just glad we could survive all the hostile encounters and live to see another day.”

The Watcher shrugs: “It’s a challenge I’m willing to take up. You are well-versed in history, you can tell me how many slavers and pirates are going after us now that the political balance of Deadfire is tipped over specifically by us?”

“Point taken,” Aloth looks down and admits: “We have a long way ahead of us before we get home, don’t we?” The Watcher nods in silence, and stands up to take out two wine glasses from her cabinet.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” The Watcher asks as she gives a glass of Forgetful Night to Aloth.

Oh, the stupid question lingering in his mind.

“Well…” Aloth lets a dry laughter out of his throat, he can feel the tip of his ears turning red: “I’ve been meaning to ask you: why me?”

“I beg your pardon?” as if her question doesn’t sound like one, a playful smirk is crawling up on the Watcher’s lips. She might as well know what Aloth is all about, she’s just waiting for him to speak out his mind.

“It is no secret that Xoti and Tekehu had confessed their… let us just say, interest in you, before us. Considering my situation back then, I could hardly qualify of being the best suitable candidate to sustain a healthy relationship. Years of solitude had burned out the fire within me, it would be a really slow pace for me to rekindle the passion for you again. But you turned them down, even where they are better at dealing with love and passion.”

Aloth pauses for a bit, waiting for the Watcher’s response. Instead of saying anything, she just stares into his eyes, as if searching for an answer there. The playful smirk is still hanging on her face, normally Aloth would find that kind of smirk irritating, yet at the moment he just can’t help but smiles to himself, breaks from her eye contact and looks down at his clasped hands.

“If I was looking for pleasure, I would go for them,” for a while the Watcher finally responds, as if taking his question seriously: “As for Xoti, she’s spirited and adorable. If I were to have a little sister, it would be like her. She probably got the wrong message when I was trying to care for her. The affection she seeks, it doesn’t matter whom it comes from. I was merely helping her make up her mind before she got too rushed ahead.”

The Watcher takes a long sip of the wine before continuing: “Tekehu is bold, in fact, too bold he doesn’t know the meaning of subtlety. His skill and power need guidance, so does his way of taking up responsibility. And… it’s been a real headache every time Ondra crawled into my head when we had a conversation.”

Aloth suddenly looks up, with a “no way” expression on his face. The Watcher smiles and nods, as if trying to tell him it is no joke. Then he is about to say that doesn’t really answer his “why me” question, but the words come from his mouth suddenly become high-pitched voice, of whose the Watcher knows too well.

“Fay, the lad’s been worrying n’ too caring for ye, just lay’m down already…”

Aloth rolls his eyes trying to suppress Iselmyr to the back of his mind, he shakes his head violently then takes a mouthful wine. By the time he regains control of his thought, he realizes that the Watcher is leaning against the back of her chair watching him, it’s like a cat watching a wounded mouse. He doesn’t quite know what to make of the increasingly hot air between them, whether it’s because of the alcohol or something Iselmyr said.

“Where were we...?” he palms his face with the voice only himself can hear.

“You know, I’ve always had a thing for a man who doesn’t know how attractive he is.” the same smirk is still hanging on the Watcher face, even broader this time. Aloth rolls his eyes again: “Please, I’m…”

Before he can protest any further, the Watcher half kneels down in front of him, keeping their eye contact on the same level. She takes his hands into hers as a gesture of apology, then she says: “I’m no stranger to solitude, for my long years being a hunter in the wild I’ve known the taste of freedom as well as isolation. People always say I have observing eyes and a sharp mind, I’d say I just see things others rarely notice. When I look at you, I see the deep sorrow that you are trying so hard to hide, the burden you have endured, the misfortune you have suffered. You have a kind and trusting heart, yet it’s difficult for you just to offer it to anyone. I would never forgive myself if I watch you stray away from the right direction. You are my responsibility. As for ‘why you’... aside from that much time we've spent together, it comes from here-” She’s pointing at her heart: “Time and time again I entrusted it to you, you’ve never disappointed me. And I wish to be the first one you can fully trust.”

A long silence lingering between them. Aloth opens up his mouth trying to make out a word, he finds nothing in his vocabulary would justify the affection. He leans in close to the Watcher, pressing their foreheads together.

“Hey,” the Watcher murmurs in a super soft voice: “You wouldn’t come to my cabin just to talk, would you?”

Aloth chuckles.

“I suppose not.”

=================================================

My past is awfully similar to Aloth’s, so I kinda know where his hesitation is coming from. His little romance subplot feels “accurate” for someone like him. I’m glad we could give him a Watcher he deserves. The competition thing between Aloth and the Watcher is a little easter egg form LotR.​​​​

[purintarts]

My RFA + Saeran Personal HC

YOOSUNG

He's inexperienced in the dating department so don't be surprised when he under or over doing it

Yoosung could be dense and as observant as a wall

There would also be times when he could be selfish

You're cold? He might not notice a thing since he's seeking warmth for himself

Or eating the last piece of pizza without asking or splitting

He might not pick up the double meaning flirt you tried on him too

Blushing and stuttering when he finally gets it

But when he dotes on you, he will dote on you

He'll try his best and even do research for dates and gifts

He saw a cake you just like? Expect it on your table soon

He can be bold and dominating if he wants to 

He ain’t all that innocent, he knows what he’s doing *wink*

But not in the first few months of you started dating, it's gonna be a daily thing soon

Despite how much time he spends on his game, he cares for his future

He's a responsible man, trust me

One time your period was late, The boy was already searching for a job

Always send you before your curfew and informs your parents if he's taking you out

His dream is to have a family and to be the perfect husband and father

He tries not to get jealous but he tends to

He's sweet and cuddly If he sets his mind onto something, he will do his best to achieve it

He's rather impatient and impulsive

so you have to calm him down a lot

He loves touching you or just be near you

Yoosung's flirting could actually take you off guard

You would be stun and couldn't even mutter a word when he teases you

Angry Yoosung would be savage Yoosung

He tends to keep it bottle up so when his anger had reach the limit, he'll tell you every detail that you won't even remember

He holds grudges till his death

You don't want to crossed him when he's angry

Trust me when I say he gets better with age

You'll wake up in the morning and thank your old self and the heavens for choosing him as your life partner

He works hard and put his all in his work

Quite sensitive and he's not afraid to show his tears

A devoted lover, you'll be the most prettiest and perfect person in his eyes and no one could say otherwise

A giver

Girls wish they were you if they knew how he could be to his lover

One time you two were on break to focus on your studies, three girls approached him

"I'm sorry but I have a girlfriend"

He would come to you in the middle of the night if you were sick

Always make time for you and the people he loves

He knows he's young and childish so works hard to be a man that you could be proud of

Boyfriend/Future Husband Material

ZEN

You'll never feel awkward with himHe makes everything natural and you don't have to act or force yourselfHe talks a lot but he's also a good listener

Gossip partner

"So what happen to Susan from work? Did she get back with her man?"

Social butterfly, he gets along well with everyone including your family and friendsYou know when he's angry when he starts cursing and ranting at the same timeShort-tempered and could get angry at the smallest things like

Not putting back his stuff after using it

Which you always do but you learnt to put it back eventuallyHe rants at everything, pretty muchHe has a bag full of cosmetics and makeupZen's self control is better than what he credits himself

Literally stopped himself halfway despite you both being half naked just because you had rush somewhere

You told him you can be late but he begs to differ 

"I'll take you once you return. We have the whole night"

He doesn't discriminate men doing feminine things like getting their nails done and going to the spa

Because he does it himself (Couple spa is his favourite)

He is more than being beautiful and sex

He always works hard and a major workholic

Despite the fact how he loves it when people compliments his looks, he loves it more if they compliment his skills and talents

Boyfriend Material

Expect lots of cheesy pickup lines

Never fails to call you once a day even for a minute to say good morning

Sometimes get embarrassed if he watches himself on tv with another person

Despite the fact he smokes, he hate smelling bad

He carry mints and perfume everywhere he goes

He will never be boring

Even if he has a lot of female co-workers, he always keeps his limits (whether or not he is in a relationship)

He respects people's personal space because he wants people to respect his

Gets insecure every now and then

But he will never let you feel that way

Supportive Lover

He'll support you in everything you doAlways up for a rant on someone or something

The number one person in the RFA to be a parent because of an accident

JAEHEE

Sensible and responsible

If you had a bad day, she'll listen and give you advices

She gives warm hugs

She will support you in everything you do too

but she will always talk about the down side and the consequences

Workholic

She doesn't like to lean on people and tend to do everything herself

Quite a lone wolf

Doesn't care what people think of her

"They don't know me"

She'll tell you to take care of yourself but neglect her own well-being

Overthinking, she looks to the future and sometimes you need to tell her not to worry

Rather paranoid

Always up to fangirl 

Don't let her looks fool ya, she read those fanfics especially about Zen

"Oh I love reading this! Jaehee you should try reading it"

"I've already read it twenty times"

"What?"

"...It's good"

An observant person, she knows if there's something wrong if you answered her differently

Sometimes, she doesn't answer her phone because she doesn't want to put with any shit

But calls back 10 minutes later because she's afraid it might be important

She's very patient and doesn't get angry easily

But when she is, you better prepare yourself

She lied, she wasn't going to sleep, she has a marathon to watch

Your minds are connected (great mind think alike)

Soul sisters/Lovers

JUMIN

Despite the fact how he is never afraid to tell you about how he feels about you

There are times when he could be quite cold

Especially when he's very busy and occupied, he might not give you any attention at all

But he'll make it up later when he calls you

Always makes time for his love ones

Responsible and mature

He knows what he wants and find ways to get it

Observant and calculative

Don't bother hiding what you like or dislike, he already knows.

But there are also times when he could be quite dull and dense

Jumin could be awkward and there are times when he doesn't know what to

Sometimes he doesn't know what actions he should take and ended up with using his money

Because that's what his father usually did (don't blame him for his only parent as a rolemodel)

Watching his father had gave him a lot of different views and creates the him now

Passionate Lover

When he gives you all his attention, you will be suffocated

He doesn't get angry even when you did something stupid

but he will show an emotion of distaste by a frown

Never filters what he wants to say

He's spoiled, don't deny it

He doesn't know how to wash the rice or do the laundry

Don't even bother asking him to help you with the house chores, he'll make it worse

But he's neat so his penthouse wasn't that dirty to begin with

Fast-learner, he picks up things fast whether cooking, babycare or you

He swore to himself that his children will grow up with a mother 

Very forgiving, he'll forgive you even if you did him shit

But never forgets it

If he's angry, he will let it out in one shot

He doesn't stay angry for long (it's easy to coax or make up with him)

Doesn't care what people think of him, but cares how you and his father thinks

He likes keeping people together, he doesn't like broken friendship (unless they are very toxic, goodbye)

The perfect Husband material.

707

Yes, he is fun

But not always

There are times when he's cold and quiet

If he's really tired (like haven't slept properly for a week tired), he's a short fuse

He'll tell you to eat but he himself forgets to eat

Tend to forget the time 

"What day is it? What time is it? What? I've been working for over 28 hours?"

Sometimes you think he's out but really, he's just in his room

He has depression and insecurities

He might be laughing in the chatroom but he was probably crying a second ago 

"I deserve this" 

Taking his guilt to beat himself up

Be it about his brother or you

Really bad at comforting someone

You need to show him what you want when you are crying and he'll do it

Or he’s going to awkwardly patting you back with that awkward laugh

He can get serious and it much serious than Jumin

"This is no laughing matter, MC" 

He doesn't really know how to show his love

So the only time he shows it is in bed

Other than that, you have to make the first move

He'll learn by watching your actions

Always worried about you, afraid that someone might take you away or hurt you

Stalker Lover over here

And he doesn't bother to hide it

He is always afraid but he will never show it

You could be sleeping in his arms and he'll stare at you while crazy scary situations plays in his head"

Hurt me, never her

"He would die for you, literally, as long as you are safe and soundIn his good days, he would do crazy things with you

He doesn't control his image

He doesn't have an image wth

Well rested, no work Seven is the best Seven!

Stubborn, very stubborn, it's hard to persuade him

He doesn't have strong self-control, and he's rather impulsive

Brilliant but like any men, could be quite dense

“Take you? Take you where? I can't take you out right now, I have work”

If he had been overworking, don't even bother making a conversation 

“Orange is the new black? Orange can't be the new black it's a different colour. If Orange is black then what is black?"

"Seven...It's a TV show"

"IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE"

...especially a joke or sarcastic remarks

"How do I know why the chicken cross the road, It's a CHICKEN!"

Brain overworking- Error!

Overworking Paranoid Lover

V

No, he's not always sugar and smiles

There are times when he has his bad days too

He'll be quiet and coldV is gentle no denying

but he could also be demanding at time

He likes to shut himself out rather than to talk about his feelings

Those bottle up emotions will burst during an argument

He accepts everything because he feels that he deserve it

Even the pain

He's not brave but he tries too

He tends to run away rather than facing the problem

A great listener and also good at persuading people

He has this power to make people listen to him

As a lover, he is passionate and caring

A true gentleman

Ideal Boyfriend Material over here

He'll always be there for you when you need him

But he is quite selfish

Sometimes he do things what he thinks it's best for you two than discussing with you first

Which end up with more argument

But you two never be in bad terms for long

Because he would apologize and discuss about it

The people he loves, left him

He tends to think that he is the problem

Needs lots of assurance

“I'm with you because I want to, Jihyun”

Love making is usually gentle unless during making up after an argument

He could be rough and merciless if he wants, which is rare

He will make sure you are cared and loved

Because he knows how it feels like when no one cares

He loves to travel because he feels free

He accepts everyone as who they are 

"There's nothing wrong with you"

The man to accept you even your flaws

SAERAN

He's bipolar, ain't denying it

He's ray when he's happy and excited

He's unknown when he's angry or annoyed

But it's him.It's like dating two people.

He's gentle and shy at one moment

Rough and bold the next

But it is him

He hesitates and overthinks alot

Doesn't like crowds or skinship unless to those he's close too

The only way to know that he's comfortable with it is if he did the first move

Anxiety, insecurities are his biggest weaknessB

ut also his biggest strength

He tries to help people so they won't go through the same thing he did

Which is why he fits in the RFA

To be frank, he was scared falling for you

What if you leave him too?

But his feelings were out of control and he's glad for that

He is still a child in a man's body 

So he love cuddles, compliments, appreciation

He craves love

But tries to hide, but it's so obviousT

ends to have conversation with himself, he will be muttering under his breath

Don't worry he's not that crazy

It's just Ray and Unknown debating

"What if she doesn't like it"

"She's waiting for it"

"What if we thought wrong"

"It's your chance"

"i don't know"

"Do it, do it now”

Then he'll turn around only to kiss your forehead

Unknown may be toxic but he is the motivator

Without him, Ray might not exist

Saeran will live in total despair and sadness

The debates within himself is what kept him alive

"Kill yourself? What a waste, escaping the witch to live only to kill yourself in the end? Pathetic"

"But I'm not needed... I deserve to die"

"Without revenge?"

"...We need revenge"

He's very possessive and gets jealous easily

For you, he would do anything to keep you by his side

He acts like he doesn't like it, but his eyes will tell you want he wants

Open relationship with one man

Ideal son

But I don't want him to be my son therefore I'll bear his son instead