#one of these days ill use it and will not be a hindrance

[onlyseokmins]

ash and cinders • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 which just means a minor power play between them at first okay 😬 i promise it's not that bad lmao i'm just paranoid, lots of making out, oral (fem. receiving), lil bit of temp play tbh, little bit of choking, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? it's just basically me attempting to write prettily uwu WC: 4.24k A/N: soooo, this has been rotting in my drafts FOREVER!!! but yeah seokmin is my most darling, favorite boy i've ever stanned anyways ofc i couldn't help but use his elle magazine photos (yes that's how long this has been ROTTING) ahhhhh - ahem anyways this goes hand-in-hand with Mischief Maker so definitely recommend checking that one out too! heheh <3

He only stayed during the night.    

When the blanket of darkness covered even the moon with a hazy layer of clouds, leaving tiny twinkling stars for a traveler’s guide. The fire once dancing in the hearth dwindled down to scarlet embers barely emitting enough heat to fill the large quarters.

Not that it mattered.

Even as you lay naked amidst the silken sheets strewn upon the grand bed, the thought of your lover’s return alone was enough to engulf your body in a flame of burning anticipation that settles and simmers between your legs.

He had been gone far too long. A lengthy patrol around the surrounding territories had taken him away from your embrace. Although every morning the sun’s rays tickled your face as a sweet greeting and bathed you in a radiant light through the day, nights without him were by far the worst.    

Cold.    

Lonely.    

Dark.

On usual accounts, it was a grievous crime to keep the queen waiting. But you would forgive him for anything, wouldn’t you? It’s exemplified in the way he bursts through the doors without so much as a courteous knock that even your most trusted servants must abide by, water droplets dripping from his auburn bangs.

Despite the eagerness to see you as soon as possible, he refused to step foot into your chambers when reeking of blood after fierce combat and soiled with dirt from travel. You always protested. The gilded throne you reigned from, the heavy crown upon your head, and even the bed you shared — all were built upon those very foundations. But your lover insisted on only showcasing the glorious side of things to you.

The gold.    

The diamonds.

The luxuries.

All which adorned you by day. Glowing, glistening, and shining. Gems and jewels, fabrics woven from the highest quality quickly reduced to layers that only became a hindrance once it came time for his descent upon you. For you were absolutely beautiful clothed — this he very well knew — but when your whole body was bared naked for him and him alone? You were truly the definition of divine.

Those who dared to speak ill of you tried to foster ridiculous claims. Critical of the wealth in your possession. Mocked what they presumed was a lack of ambition. Wailed that you were a witch. A young monarch on an undeniable downfall to tyranny, one that would lead them all to hellfire and ruin.

Anything to validate that you were not worthy of the royal seal emblazoned across the lands in honor of a valiant leader with a royal bloodline still running through your veins.

Hypocrisy at its finest when you were the reason that they were bestowed or able to retain property linked to their names, money in their pockets, and a legacy to live by under your prosperous reign. Arrogant to cast down the very thing that elevated them to their current standing. But their greed would eventually come back to bite them. One day.

Even the religious sect whispered lowly, hidden in the shadows of the grand temples. Doubts that the king actually held a shred of affection for his partner — if the seldom visits seen visiting your chambers only when night falls were of any substantial evidence to go by. That he only lay with you out of duty, shackled and bound to an imposter who was never a faithful servant to the gods like they were.

Because not one of them truly believed that a god could ever favor, let alone love, a human.

You knew you were a savior to as many as you were also an enemy. A hindrance and a threat. A bold refusal to control or be controlled. There was nothing more to do other than lead your people as fairly as you judged. 

All the preposterous assumptions infuriated him — your devoted knight, unorthodox husband, and scandalous lover. But he manages to temper his fiery rage out of respect for you. Behind your ruthless, steely intent is a righteous and kind heart that always calls out for him, now fully vocalized and embellished by the sweet voice he's missed hearing dearly.

“Seokmin,” you murmur, grasping his warm hand once he's within reach.

An entity of many epithets with an existence worth a millennium beyond comprehension and full of worship. Yet his favorite phonetic combination he'd ever heard was the one that fell breathlessly from your lips. The closest the human tongue could get to a god’s true name. And his second favorite would be yours, the syllables rumbling in his chest like a song and you smiled in contentment.

He was back, he was home, and he was yours.

Even in the darkness, Seokmin glowed. The ethereal radiance surrounding the broad expanse of sinewy muscles easily proved his lofty status as the great god of the sun. But it was also his eyes, flickering with the unmistakable presence as one of many deities. The kind of power that has managed to refrain from turning you into ash and cinders.

Whether it's attributed to your resilience, a ruler born to stand out and lead, or an entirely different reason — or a mixture of all — Seokmin isn't really sure. He's not the first to appear in a human vessel nor the last, with at least twelve of his known brothers wandering the mortal world for various reasons.

He wonders if he's the first to bow his head willingly, though, holding back his more devious and destructive tendencies. To pay back tenfold the worship he's received since the beginning of time all to you — a mere human — yet nonetheless, his queen.

The event of swearing his undying fealty feels like it was yesterday. For a being that persists forever, it may as well have been that short ago. Every memory he etches and sears into his mind for eternity consists of you, and only you.

How could he forget? How was he supposed to bury away the confident smirk that graced your lovely lips? Would he ever not recall the first time he bent the knee in such desperation? Not for a trick or as a dark seduction that tumbles into a dreadful demise, a conquest for carnage, and an abuse of his powers. But instead for the good of humanity — however short of an era it may be.

And maybe… for more. One that his heart fears to admit, for it does not beat within his chest, but in a plane beyond the reach of mortals.

"Would you kill for me?"

"For you, anything," the god affirms. "I have laid waste to kingdoms, countries, empires, and even continents themselves. There is nothing I'm incapable of."

"And if I asked you to behead the entire entourage that has traveled with you?"

"… If it is what you will, then it is simply my command to follow. For you, I am a lone knight at your disposal."

Silken skirts flare out as does your anger when you turn away from the large windows in the tower's tiny excuse of a throne room — hardly fit for the heir — showcasing a brief flash of the lethal dagger strapped to your thigh. "Do you wish for my downfall before I've even risen to the throne? You expect me to be a tyrant, despised by the people I am meant to save? To lead?"

"Do you think I, a god, care what thoughts others conjure up in their silly little minds? I am to act on your behalf, get my hands dirty in lieu of you. No matter how morbid your desires may be."

Stepping closer, you lift his chin with the tip of a dull sword intended to be ornamental. But it may be even deadlier than the one hung at his side, metaphorically sharpened and honed by a rebel princess's innate rage. 

His little show of bowing means little with the way he stares straight at you without a shred of respect in those galaxy-filled irises. However, it is the mighty sun god who is taken aback by the hellfire burning in your gaze, hungry and powerful enough to rival his own as you scoff.

"I will show you what kind of queen this land needs, the methods we will follow, and the morals I wish to uphold. You will learn in order to understand them and enforce my will. Not only to help guide the vision I desire but to keep me accountable lest I stray. A critical misstep such as that is when I'll ask you to cut me down. Will you swear to do that for me?"

"… You dare question a god of what he can do? Your tiny, impudent human mind couldn't fathom a sliver of my capability."

"I dare to question what you can't or won't do."

"I told you, there is not a thing beyond my realm of —"

"Leave."

"… Your Highness?"

Painted lips curl in a snarl at the first address of your proper title since his arrival. "Begone, I said! Return when you feel like acting like the god you are, not simply a tool to be harnessed and used at will. Until then, I have no need for you."

Seokmin's jaw drops as you seat yourself back on the throne with a sneer and flick of your wrist for the guard to usher him out.

A challenge. 

He's been abandoned many times. Discarded and tossed to the side once his usefulness has been expended. He's left before betrayal can even be thought of — for no one points a blade at a god's back — but never has he been rejected.

It was only the beginning of how you would become many of his 'firsts' and all of his 'lasts'.

Seokmin is lost deep in the memory even with the feeling of your lips curling in a gentle smile against his — a stark contrast to your initial meeting. A nail grazes his chin, digging lightly into the skin to fully bring the god back to the present. 

You'd be offended by the habitual spacing out if he hadn't admitted to only getting lost in thoughts of you. Something he'd picked up during the routine patrols away. Though you strive to bring the god out of dwelling in the past when you're sitting right in front of him — the present — and deepen the kiss.

Yet he pulls away to tilt his head. "Do you remember what you offered to me?"

"Have I not offered you my all, my king?"

Charcoal lying dormant in the hearth flares back to life, emitting playful sparks when he chuckles. "After I returned to pledge my loyalty to you."

"Ah, even though I had you wait outside the gates for five days."

"Unfathomable for a god to hang around at the whim of a meager human, isn't it?"

"Meager?"

"To me? Yes." 

His warm exhale of amusement feels just like the breeze that fondly brushes your cheeks every morning despite the eternal humidity. It may very well be him because no matter how far away physically from you he is, Seokmin's essence radiates in every sunray that stretches across the grand skies and below.

He is everywhere and everything all the time. But he is here with you tonight once again, kissing the palm you'd placed on his cheek. With mischief flickering like a teasing flame in his eyes, the god brings your hand to his throat, encouraging you to splay your fingers across his Adam's apple.

You free yourself from his light grasp to run them ticklishly up and down the bumps of his vocal cords. The movements of swallowing ripples beneath the light scratch of your nails until he halts you by replacing a veined hand over yours and murmurs, "Squeeze."

"Ah — but I…"

He repeats it again louder when you fail to do as asked, not even daring to move a muscle. Simply staring in almost awe-filled hesitation until he guides you to tentatively do exactly as he states, "You would have done anything to strangle me back then, what has changed?"

"… You know what."

"Tell me," he says it like it's a command, eyes brightening and swirling with an authoritative amber hue though it's all in jest. "Tell me what it is, my queen."

Never one to be deterred, only Seokmin could render you motionless for so long. You do as you're instructed, the gentle pressure applied by your hand around his throat causes auburn eyelashes to flutter. The slight restriction to an airflow that isn't all that necessary for a god's survival has his eyes rolling back before they re-focus on you, half-hidden by hooded eyelids.

"Love," you murmur. For it is the answer to everything, is it not?

"Love," is echoed with a resounding voice that doesn't fully come from the tongue of the man beneath you, but bellows out from an otherworldly essence that surrounds the entire world and beyond. And at the same time, he speaks it so fondly because ultimately, he's addressing it as a title for you.

The god of the sun, as immortal as he might be, has died before. Mortal vessels manage to persevere for a fixed number of years and a feeble human body can only endure so much wear and tear. Yet Seokmin's soul still shines steadily onwards despite the memory of death over and over again lingering… and he unsurprisingly realizes that he wouldn't mind dying like this — by your hand. 

Was that love? 

But the amount of power, energy, and time, along with the unpredictable wiles of the creator would never guarantee him returning to you. Preservation of this human shell was of the utmost importance, the first time he's ever handled a vessel with care before.

Perhaps that was love.

Rather than be swept up in unpleasantries, he entertains the amusing thought of how much fragility you exercise with him. Having already released your grip far too quickly and instead, fiddle with the untied laces on his loose shirt.

"Love," he repeats, this time as a call in a raspy drawl of his own voice. 

"Hm. Or maybe it was… pity."

An eyebrow raises and the corners of Seokmin's mouth twitch upward. "Only my queen would dare to pity a god."

"It was for what you were. And who you weren't. I despise those uppity, repetitive displays of unwavering loyalty that either party can easily discard."

"Like the former king's imperial court."

"Yes." 

Your angered hiss is exactly the same as the first time you informed him of your plans to take down your father and his cult. The disgust and rage have barely ebbed even after all the progress made for a better future and as many years that have passed. 

Seokmin scans your expressions. He's always admired your spitfire that could rival his own flames. But in times when it burns long enough to possibly exhaust or hurt you, he worries. You're strong — he knows that — so many times he simply becomes the safe space where you can seethe aloud without interruption. 

"Would you rather grow dull and be poisoned because someone is not even worth keeping an eye on or the thrill of unpredictability? A constant sword dance that keeps each other on their toes, never deviating gazes from one another."

He smirks. "That sounds familiar."

You think back to earlier days with him. A stubborn royal and an even more stubborn deity. When did the challenging, pointed glares at one another change to simmering looks of desire?

Instead of your swords tangling together in an angry clash over a small matter, it was your tongues after a heated sparring session. How condescension switched to respect to something more passionate… more primal… more intimate.

"Perhaps so. But look at you now — look at how you shine."

His skin indeed glows a bit brighter as he melts further into the soft touch of your palm returning to his cheek. Thumb tracing constellations between the pair of moles on his cheek while your other finger follows the nearly invisible scar below his eye.

"Little blemishes," he had once told you, "even the body of a god bears its flaws after fighting on a battlefield."

You thought they only made him all the more perfect.

"And look at how I've fallen."

As if to demonstrate his murmured words, Seokmin moves at the speed of light — his normal pace — to lie on his back, umber strands of hair spread out like flames of fire against the grandiose bed's silken sheets.

Somehow, he'd positioned you on top of him. Much accustomed to the tiny displays of omnipotence here and there, you remain unbothered. Affectionately, you brush back his bangs. Fiery wisps of hair that seemingly move on their own accord with the amount of power that ripples through their thin fibers.

He might just be the most powerful among his fellow deities and you could wield all of that as your own because he sits obediently in the palm of your hand. Lays dociley among your silken sheets. What he's trying to prove to you — the hold you have over him — immediately enthralled under your spell as you play with his locks and softly whisper, "You're Seokmin. My Seokmin."

Despite your bare chest quite literally in his face, the god waits. Fully clothed in soft linens where he can feel every tempting pulse thundering in your precious mortal body on top of his. 

And still, he waits. 

His hands don't even reach out as you unlace his shirt. Though he has wrecked and ruined your body in a thrillingly sensual, blistering, and passionate heat of love-making before, tonight he gives himself over to you. Vulnerable and all yours for the taking, watching with faint amusement as you impatiently urge him to shed the rest of his garments.

"My queen."

"My king."

"There is no rush. We have all of eternity."

"Do we?" you breathe out and look him in the eyes as your fingers dance along his inner thigh. "Or is it only you, divine ruler of the everlasting dawn and never-ending night?"

"My graceful moon," Seokmin sighs and distracts you from grasping his weeping shaft, urging you to straddle his legs. You follow his will despite the object of your desires lying neglected between your bodies, coating your stomach in the molten saltiness that drips from it.

"My stars, my sky, my galaxy, my universe." Each title of affection is seared into your skin with a burning kiss to brand your body. Your cheek, your ear, your neck, your shoulder, and your hand. "Without you in it, the world ceases to exist."

"My sun, my warrior, my knight, my shield, and my sword." You repeat a version of your own display of worship and what he means to you — mimicking the same actions across his lithe body. "My love, it would do you good to live in the present with me. Must you think of a dire future so soon?"

"Each inhale of life thus returns an exhale of death. I dread every moment that brings me closer to your end."

"Such morbid thoughts you carry, my darling. Where is the fearless god that took a poisoned arrow to the heart and pulled it out without so much as a flinch?" 

"You think me weak when I'd take the blow of any weapon as long as it does not harm you."

The irony when you'd both been struck by invisible, non-lethal darts fired from the god of love's feathered bow. But the terrifying memory of Seokmin taking the assassination attempt in your place causes a rare, but true, fear twisting in your gut. The flash of life before your eyes changed the trajectory of your tactics and your relationship with the god. And as always he reassures you with what he knows to be the truth — for the most part.

"Nothing can hurt me as long as you're alright." 

"Then make me your goddess in return so that I will be invincible enough to protect you from harm's wrath too." 

"But that… you know I can't," he whimpers, "no matter how much I long to." 

A tear trickles down his cheek, crystallizing when it falls. Like many before and well after, all bodily fluids of the god will be found transformed as various tiny diamonds and gems. Tangled within the bedsheets the following morning as they always are and stored away in the queen's treasury.

Seokmin cries, not just at his frustrations, but at how you gingerly hold his hot and hardened length. Heavy in your palm that rubs and strokes it lovingly before sinking down with practiced ease, having already stretched yourself out earlier while waiting. Undulating your hips in slow, controlled circles that make him dizzy with desire. Your words pierce his chest, paining him like no sword that sliced him open could ever compare.

"If fate will not let it happen, then bury me in the ground so I can thrive beneath your warm rays that whisper sweet nothings. Let me smile up at you after winter passes while I bloom brilliantly through spring and long into the heated days of summer. Weave my soul among the stars so I may greet you in the morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. Scatter my ashes into the windy gusts of the north and down the silver rivers flowing south so I may laugh and dance in the skies alongside your sunbeams."

He sobs at the poignant emotional tug of your words, every poetry waxed by your breathy voice punctuated by a tantalizing undulation of your hips. You reassuringly clench around him, foreheads and bodies pressed together, hands clasped tightly in each other's grasp.

The god's chest heaves and the mountains on the eastern border shift to the left. Sometimes the air cools when this occurs but tonight, it shimmers and glistens as if straining against his commands. A hot wave that threatens to distort the very seam of reality itself. 

"I will always be yours," you kiss the corner of his trembling lips, "and you mine, my darling god."

"My sweet goddess, my everything… my love."

Seokmin's hips buck up anxiously and you let him lead the pace. Wild thrusts take over as he chases that high, wanting and needing to take you over that peak with him. Your body lays prone against him, along for the jostling ride as the god seeks his own pleasure through and with you. Praises and worship fall from his lips, never failing to be in awe of how your cunt molds and works his cock like a blacksmith shapes an iron rod yet he can bully it as he wants to fit him. Only him. 

You were made for the god of the sun.

Golden ichor thrums through his veins, lighting his skin in flashes like the sparks of embers. He's beautiful. Otherworldly. Your lips capture each glowing pulse of godliness that erupts beneath his flesh with a tender peck. He's all yours.

And he was made for you.

When Seokmin plunges into your welcoming warmth that is his alone to claim before he finally succumbs, it's blinding. On the other side of the earth, the sun shines a little brighter. A harsh glint that already emits a sweltering heat from its fiery nature flares even hotter in the blue sky. A blessed priestess looks up in contemplation, waving away the worried maidens who tend to her every need.

You feel his large hands — one presses in a bruising hold between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. Keeping you flush against him, holding your body to his while you welcome inside the scorching spurts of his seed within your womb that feel like lava. Your walls flutter around him and he basks in the feeling of them pulsating as you jerk your hips 

"Come," he begs out. It's loud and resounding. More of an instinctual command if anything and your body almost obeys unwittingly, unaware of his intent before he lifts you up with inhuman strength and clarifies, "Up here," and sits you on your rightful throne — his face, "where you deserve, the queen of queens. My queen. My love. My goddess."

He laps at you like a dehydrated dog. Both cleaning you up and creating an even bigger mess. Your thighs squeeze tightly around the sides of Seokmin's head, one hand tugging harshly at his hair and the other mercilessly wrinkling the silk bed sheets. His moans are sweet songs of praise but muffled as he sucks his release out of your cunt only to push it back inside with his tongue. The addition of globs of spit accompanying the still-hot, smeared mess causes your own sounds to grow much louder, writhing on top of him from the sloppy sensations.

Back and forth he repeats this a couple of times, the firm point of his nose stimulating your sore clit in his efforts. And finally, you come undone — spasming on top of Seokmin's chin and suffocating him just like he likes. Breathing and drowning in your essence, the very elixir of life.

"I shall make you mine," he whispers later, dutifully laying your deliciously aching but clean body onto freshened sheets. Your lover is ever so attentive, rarely nearly needing the same amount of aftercare he showers upon you.

For he is a god from the heavens to bestow blessings upon his desired mortal.

"I am already yours."

"But for all of eternity, it shall be so."

Satiated and content, you reach for him. He lovingly takes your hand and presses a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers. "How?"

"The Mother. She's the closest thing we have to the Creator and might be older than the universe itself. There's nothing she doesn't know so I'm sure she'll have the answers I seek."

"Must you leave so soon?"

Seokmin smiles as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. "The sun never fails to rise, my dear. I will be back before you know it bringing with me tidings of great news."

"I'll be waiting."

Your shared kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet and full of sentiment. Indeed, you always wait for him and the sun god leaves with a full heart of hope. Little does he know, and little do you suspect, the true one lying in wait was the shadowed figure holding a poisoned dagger beneath their cloak.

And so, with the death of a queen so loved by the god of the sun… the prophecy begins.

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[kokusfluffyhair]

Muzan and Kagaya basically desire the same thing -- to survive and live without hindrances.

Muzan does take this a bit farther, as he doesn't just wish to be able to go out in the daytime, but he also seeks immortality. The walking in the sunlight does symbolise immortality to him, as then there would be nothing left that could kill him (that he knows of, at least). But, I still think it's subconsciously connected with the emptiness he has in himself that he was never able to live a "normal" life, even after becoming the almost-invincible being of a demon.

Kagaya does all that he does so that his family will be free of the illness/curse they're under. You can say that his intentions would also serve the "common good" because it would destroy Muzan and the demons, but I doubt that Kagaya and his work is all just to benefit others. At the end of the day, it's the survival of his family, and the generational trauma of his ancestors that fuel his work.

Meanwhile, both recruit and use the talents of others to move themselves along towards their goal.

They both found themselves in their current situations without warning. Muzan didn't choose to become a demon. All he wanted was for his illness to be cured. Obviously, Kagaya didn't choose to be cursed. But, as far as we know, Muzan didn't actively curse his bloodline, so what caused it? Is Kagaya the descendant of a child Muzan had with one of his ex-wives and because Muzan procreated while he was a demon, the "curse" passed from parent to child in the form of a kind of dominant gene that acted as a kind of cancer to the body? You can't blame Muzan for this, unless we find out that he intentionally polluted his bloodline, which from the canon material we have doesn't seem to be the case.

[miaurri]

I can finally drop her ref and add her backstory 😭 I made a post on insta with her lore but it's extremely water down so I might as well make a full post about it

CW// Animal death, Domestic Abuse, Grooming, Self Harm and Attempted SA

Kayo was born the first day of spring, a new beginning for her mother and father but over time she didn't came out "right" physically. She was beautiful no doubt about it but with such an odd looking eye she was almost incomplete.

Though despite this her family continued to raise her till she later on has a brother. They plan on raising him to become a samurai and bring wealth into the family home but Kayo insisit she can as well. Most of Kayo's early childhood was spent on taking care of the farm and help watching over her brother who was slowly getting ill. She was annoyed with him, not only for stealing the attention away from her family but as a "hindrance" to the family

As winter slowly arrived his condition had gotten worse and their money had gotten low. Nightly her parents argued on the money problem which lead to violence she'd witness, but Kayo wanted to show her family that she was able to provide as well. Unknowingly she went into the fields to look for some plants to use for medication and saw red spider lillies, entranced by then she grabbed a handful before sneaking back into the home as everyone went to sleep. Kayo proceeded to make a herb tea made out of the plants and gave them to her brother.

Even if she didn't like him she was willing to try and help her family out by watching after him. But no matter how many times she tried his condition had gotten worse, more and more Kayo started adding anything to make his medication work till she gave him all the remaining spider lillies she could find and made him drink it all that night. The next morning wasn't a pleasant one as her brother's body was layed cold. His face went purple and blood was left on his lips as Kayo's mother discover the dead body of her son and her daughter with a cup layed next to her her mother assumed that Kayo had intentionally poisoned her brother

Struck with grief and anger her mother shoved Kayo away from her brother as she cried and cradle his body. From then there her family had became worse. Her mother would always have bruises and was shaking in fear at any sign of touch. Kayo became distant but the guilt of upsetting her mother weighed more as Kayo told her she was willing to do anything to see her happy again.

That night Kayo's mother held her daughter for the last time. Not saying a word as by the next morning Kayo's mother lead her to a strange place. It was definitely more busier than their small village and everyone work nice clothing compare to the rags that they often wore. Kayo stopped by at a building and spoke to a strange man. Kayo felt nervous as she saw the man's eyes leering at her, she didn't understand what had happened but saw the man grabbing Kayo by her arm as he lead her further into the town.

As Kayo panicked she looked back at her mother who was walking away with a small bag of coins hand. Kayo was left to the hands of whoever now as she walked through the crowd of people. She finds herself heading into a tall building as the man lead her into a room, Kayo looking back immediately as soon as the paper door was slammed closed. But instead of something scary awaiting for her, there was a woman. She worn a ray of colorful kimonos that complimented her complexion well. Kayo was told that she'll be working with her as her Kamuro, her servant, but that for now on she'll be under her care

It didn't matter if she was only being nice, or that she perhaps pitied the child Kayo was happy someone was willing to take care of her. She had introduced herself as Fujinami and promised Kayo she'll never leave her side until she was ready. Hence that day Kayo was now renamed to the one we all now know her as. Her weeks with her were slow as she was just getting familiar to the environment she was in. Though she was well equipped with house keeping skills she was lacking a bit with grace and femmeninity.

Fujinami teaches her that in this industry that playing nice was an act, she was performing essentially but it made people happy. Though Kayo didn't seem as interested in playing pretend as she had more focus on being free and running around the house. Especially when one of Fujinami's client had been introduced to Kayo as he waited to see her. Isamu was a popular teacher at a dojo not too far from the district, but he had never met a young girl who was addamit on learning the skills of his craft, not even his younger students showed that much passion which intrigued him.

Kayo was a young spirit. High in energy despite her circumstances and loved playing games with anyone who was willing. It didn't take long for Isamu to start growing a fondness with her and even sharing a bit about himself. He was aware how odd it was for a girl like her to enjoy typically masculine things but even he admits he was like her growing up. He told her stories of him and his mother taking care of the flowers in their home and always enjoying them bloom at the first sight of spring, it was a long process and some don't even bloom in time but he'd personally think that's there's beauty of it.

As Kayo gotten older she'd completely forgotten her old life and now embraced her new one. She even made a friend with a boy from another house named Shotaro. The two would often spar and walk around the town, if they're lucky they could even buy some sweets with the small amount of money they were given. But not everything was great as with each winter's passing Kayo was slowly not forming into the image Fujinami wanted, eventually Kayo will be on her own and if she didn't start becoming the "perfect woman" she'll be left broke and dead.

Fujinami kept insisting that Kayo should start things more seriously as with the lack of skills Kayo was showing was getting worse. Fujinami explained that if she kept practicing and playing up this idea of beauty that one day a man will buy her out and she can finally escape the district on her own. But Kayo kept on failing, she was vulgar with her words, couldn't do flower erranging or even playing most of the instruments given to the house. All she could really do is fight but that's it

Stressed, Fujinami left Kayo to clear her head as she gotten ready to see her next client. Kayo feeling guilty for the lack of consideration wanted to do something for her. But as she's seen growing up, words mean nothing. They're fake and empty and only true dedication is necessary. She's heard from some of the women that there were times that the Oirans would send letters containing a piece of their finger, but usually it's never theirs. Maybe she couldn't get a finger... but she can do something better

Kayo had practiced once again as she was cleaned the table of the spilt sake as a sudden noise comes from the window. She looked down from the window and saw an injured bird on the ground limping. Feeling pity she took the animal in as she grabbed a cloth and scissors to wrap it's wings. But as she stared down at the helpless bird something overcame her, instead as the bird was flapping it's wing suddenly Kayo pierced into the flesh of the bird causing it to holler out in pain. When Kayo managed to rip off a chunk of it's broken wing Fujinami already came upstairs to see the commotion Kayo with glee presented her the bird, her hands coated in blood as she happily talked about how she was sorry for not practicing hard enough but she promised that she'll be good this time around. Disgusted at the bloody sight and the smell Fujinami ran off from Kayo causing her to follow her behind. Confused and worried she clung onto her begging for forgiveness before being shoved by her. Fujinami being scared of what Kayo is capable of shouts that she had wished she had been born a normal girl and not some animal. Struck by those words Kayo watched as she ran away from her as weeks passed and Kayo became completely focus on being more feminine.

If anything what she desired most was her approval, for that happiness she once had to still remain as she continued to perfect her craft. By the time she was old enough to "graduate" she had already perfected the image that was put upon her. Her vulgar language now light and flowery, she was gentle and graceful. Kayo hoped that Fujinami would see her growing into the woman she wanted her to be but alas, she was nowhere in sight. Thats when she heard that since she was old enough to work on her own Fujinami was no longer obligated to take care of her. As her graduation week came, she had herself presented to a crowd of people along the street. She kept a smile but deep down was distraught that she couldn't even be there to say goodbye. Each day she worn a new kimono and her hair was adorned with gold. But no amount of riches could fulfill that void in her heart, Kayo wept. Quietly at first before she had a meltdown as she trashed everything in her room. Stripping herself off of her kimono and hair piece she couldn't bare herself being parted from Fujinami. She was once again all alone. But as she cried a door opened and leaping from the floor begged Fujinami to forgive her and to take her with her. Unfortunately for her a old woman came to say someone had already bought her out for the night, her first customer. Kayo had to be as presentable as she could be but Kayo's heart grew heavy once she waited for her first client. But that feeling would only grow as she looked up and saw Isamu of all people coming to see her.

Kayo was conflicted, but she hoped that he was only there so he could buy her contract and let her live with him. She had decided to speak with him more formally as she poured him sake, but despite the circumstance that they're in Kayo smiled as she spoke fondly about how at least if there was one more figure in her life to trust it would be him. But as entertaining it was for him watching Kayo fumble with her words. He told her that he was only here for one thing most of all. After all, he said, "He enjoyed watching the flowers bloom in spring" and Kayo was simply a flower that was late to bloom. Kayo's face grew pale as he reached closer to her. "Sometimes you have to open the flower yourself to see it's true beauty" was the only words she could make out as she stood still, her body frozen as the image of what was the friendly man who took her under his wing became monstrous, almost unrecognizable. But Kayo wanting to play this role for Fujinami lets him get closer. But she was scared, afraid of what he can do to her that her body broke from it's spell as she grabbed her hairpiece and pierced his eye. Causing him to fall back as Kayo fought him off from trying to get to her. Kayo had lunged forward to him as she stabbed him multiple times. Blood soaking her soft orange kimono as she now stood in a puddle of blood. She could hear the sounds of the people downstairs celebrating and laughing as she processed what had happened. She realized now that staying her would mean a fate worse than death. And Kayo knew what she had done was wrong as she stormed out of the room. Bloody footprints following her as she ran out of the house causing on lookers to look in horror of the bloody mess she was. Kayo will escape the district even if it killed her. She didn't care her feet were burning against the ground or how dirty her garments were She felt more free than ever before and like an animal escaping from its home. She was no longer a house pet but a run away. But as her small foot can lead her she went into hiding. Slowly as she had gotten older she'd realized how poorly her body reacted to pain. Each day now she inflicted harm onto her body for her to handle the pain as cuts varied from small to deep until she could barely flinch from the pain. She started out rough though as all of her kills for hire only gave her scraps. But it was enough for her to go by. Luckily present to the story she had now perfected her skills, the thing that once brought fear into people she knew was now a necessary for her to survive. She had finally took care of herself and was now even able to afford some small goods like a beni that she cherished. Even though she knew there was no way someone would see her as a wife she still dreamed of someone accepting her the way she is. Everything was back to normal, as normal as things could be until one day she was sent a hit. A samurai who cut through a dojo but as well as the four fang, though she was tempted to decline once she heard how much she was getting paid for the hit suddenly changed her mind. Now finding herself walking along the snow path alone. She finds the calmness of the winter snow appealing but like a storm, she locked eyes with him- The rest you can figure out what happened :3

[megyulmi]

➠ Binding vow and invoking Fudō in Pure Land Buddhism:

I have been seeing posts on the nature of binding vows since Chapter 258, so I decided to share my notes on it in hopes they could be of use to a fellow reader.

Considering Akutami Gege’s consistency in incorporating practices and beliefs of different Buddhist schools into the storyline, personally, performing a binding vow reminds me of the process of invoking Fudō, as well as Amitābha’s ‘Primal Vow’. Here, I am specifically addressing the vows made with oneself as I believe they are significantly different from the vows made with others.

Fudō is an esoteric Buddhist deity for rebirth (from Pure Land worship). He was invoked by reciting his incantation as a deathbed practice to attain proper mindfulness at death allowing rebirth into the Pure Land, particularly Miroku’s Heaven, from the late Heian into the Kamakura period. He is a manifestation of the cosmic Buddha Dainichi (大日, Mahāvairocana) sent to assist Buddhist practitioners and to arrest those who would impede the Buddhist path. Fudō was most popular among the nobility for his efficacy in propitious birth, restoration of health and resurrection from death, and the subjugation of adversaries.

He is associated with the ‘Mantra of Compassionate Help’, which helps remove the hindrances at death. The mantra loosely translates as “Homage to the All-Encompassing Vajra, the Manifestation of Great Wrath. Eliminate [all hindrances].”

There are different instances of invoking Fudō. The first one is, invoking him for Miroku’s Heaven. It is related to Sōō, a monk of the Tendai school. According to the legend, while Sōō was performing ascetic practices before a waterfall on the Katsuragawa river, he prayed to Fudō to take him to Miroku’s Heaven. Fudō did indeed carry Sōō to Miroku’s Heaven, but when they arrived at the gate to the inner palace, Sōō was not allowed in because he could not yet recite the Lotus Sutra from memory. But when Sōō later recited the Lotus Sutra before the image of Fudō at his temple, he was able to gain entry.

The second one is invoking Fudō at Death. According to the court diary Chūyūki (中右記) by Fujiwara no Munetada (藤原宗忠), Emperor Horikawa on his death bed, “first chanted the titles of the larger Hannya and Lotus sutras, as well as the august name of the venerable Fudō; then chanted the august names of Śākya[muni] and [A]mida and faced the west.”

There is another story, according to which there was a sculpture of Fudō in Nara that used to appear to a nun at Higashiyama in Kyoto because she recited Fudō’s Mantra of Compassionate Help twenty-one times every day praying for proper mindfulness at death. In the time of death, when she became seriously ill, she put her hands together to form Fudō’s mudra and seated properly, her breath stopped, and without sickness, she came to the end with proper mindfulness. Here it is noteworthy that she was a member of the Ungoji nenbutsu group.

Additionally, it is useful to look into the concept of ‘Primal Vow or Fundamental Vow (本願, hongan)’, which in Japanese Pure Land Buddhism is the 18th vow that is part of a series of 48 vows that Amitābha made in the Infinite Life Sutra that in certain aspects (depending on the school) can be connected with invoking Fudō.

Nenbutsu is the invocation ‘namu amida butsu’ (南無阿弥陀仏, ‘I take my refuge in the Buddha Amitābha’) chanted in the hope of rebirth into Amida's Pure Land. It is important to note that Nenbutsu were not only directed to Amitābha but other Buddhas as well. Myōe, a famous priest of the Kegon school, is known to have invoked Fudō on his deathbed seeking rebirth in Miroku’s Heaven. It is said that at the time of Myōe’s death, “two or three times he intoned the invocation Namu Miroku Bosatsu, raising his hands in prayer and devoutly reciting the nenbutsu.”

The sutra reads: “If, when I attain Buddhahood, sentient beings in the lands of the ten quarters who sincerely and joyfully entrust themselves to me, desire to be born in my land, and call my Name, even ten times, should not be born there, may I not attain perfect Enlightenment.”

In the sutra, we see clearly what Amitābha’s ‘exchange’ is: “If they should not be born there, may I not attain perfect Enlightenment.” The vow is made at the risk of not being able to attain Enlightenment. Personally, it directly relates to the binding vow made with oneself in JJK: give up something, gain something; or, break the binding vow, lose what you have gained. Nanami is the easiest example to understand in this regard. His binding vow limits the amount of cursed energy he can access to about 80-90% while on the clock. Once his normal shift ends and he begins working overtime, Nanami’s cursed energy increases and by invoking Overtime, he is able to utilise 110-120% of his maximum power. He gains something while giving up something in exchange, and if he were to break the vow, he would lose what he has gained.

The practice itself is complex and depending on the accounts (and the schools) can be different, but personally, I can see how it could relate to the concept of binding vows made with oneself in JJK. In exchange for ‘devotion’, one can invoke the help of Fudō, who by landing his strength can help the invoker overcome the hindrance or the adversity they are facing. When summed up in this simple way, it does resonate with the concept of the binding vow made with oneself. Although the conditions naturally have to be completely different (i.e. what ‘devotion’ entails in JJK terms).

It might offer us a bit of perspective on why Sukuna seems the most efficient (well-versed) in performing the binding vow as well. We see from the examples I provided that invoking Fudō requires the knowledge of certain sutras and a long period of practice. Sukuna, coming from the Heian period (assuming that binding vows were more common like the practice of invoking Fudō that declined over time and is almost extinct in the modern day), would have been able to accumulate such knowledge and would be more familiar with the process of invoking it than your average modern-day sorcerer. He may as well have an understanding of ‘incantations’ that might otherwise not have survived the time.

Considering Akutami Gege’s incorporation of Buddhist practices, personally, it might not be too far off that he might have drawn inspiration from combining the two when creating the concept of binding vows.

[mahayanapilgrim]

Vajrapani, the “Hand of Buddha” defeats the poisons : pride, anger, hate and jealousy

 Vajrapani’s name means, literally, “Indestructible Hand” — the Hand of the Buddha.  He is one of the three great Bodhisattvas, together with Avalokiteshvara (Chenrezig, Guanyin) and Manjushri, who respectively represent “power of Buddha,” Compassion of Buddha, and Wisdom of Buddha.

* Vajrapani is the “indestructible power of the Buddha” — helping us overcome the delusions, poisons and attachments that prevent our progress

* Avalokiteshvara is the “compassion of the Buddha” — helping us overcome ego and clinging, understanding our “Oneness” with all beings

* Manjushri is the “wisdom of the Buddha” — helping us discern truth, and overcome the illusions that keep us trapped.

All three are equals; all are needed on the path to Enlightenment. We must balance compassion, wisdom and the power (i.e. discipline, etc.) to overcome the poisons.

According to the Pañcaviṃsatisāhasrikā- and Aṣṭasāhasrikāprajñāpāramitās,  any Bodhisattva on the path can rely on Vajrapani’s protection.

The Three Great Bodhisattvas, from left to right: Manjushri (Wisdom of Buddha), Avalokiteshvara (Chenrezig, Compassion of Buddha), Vajrapani (Power of Buddha.)

Vajrapani manifests in our lives daily (hopefully.) Even that voice in our mind, telling us to get up and meditate — instead of watching television — is Vajrapani at work. (Buddha’s Hand slapping us up the back of the head, metaphorically.)  Or, that feeling of guilt when you walk past a homeless person without helping — that’s Vajrapani sternly reminding us to be compassionate. It is Vajrapani who cracks the metaphorical whip in his “hand” (not to beat a metaphor to death) — to keep us working on the foundation practices, to sit each day, or, to practice metta compassion meditation each day. He’s hovering over our head with the “huge iron club, flaming, ablaze and glowing.”

Wrathful Vajrapani surrounded by wisdom flames. In both wrathful and peaceful forms he is irresistibly powerful.

The mantra of Vajrapani is a very straight-forward one, easy, yet powerful: Om Vajrapani Hum. Omsymbolizes many things, including the Five Buddhas the Five Wisdoms. Vajrapani (Thunderbolt holder, diamond-scepter holder, or Vajra Hand) is homage to the great Vajrapani. HUM is the word that “Destroys all suffering.”

According to the Tantra of the Supreme Origination of Vajrapani.

” If the disciple renders one obeisance to Vajrapani, he attains more merits than he would have secured through rendering numerous obeisances to myriads of Buddhas as many as the total grains of sands in ninety-two million Ganges Rivers… If he relies on Vajrapani as his Yidam Buddha and recites the Mantra, he will surely be protected by Vajrapani from all hindrances. No demons can hurt him, all illness will be cured, his merits will be increased and prosperity augmented. All his wishes will be fulfilled. Thus, the benefits of practicing this ritual are beyond description, nothing can afflict those who practice it. The practitioner of this ritual will also accomplish all the four activities — Pacifying, Enriching, Magnetizing and Wrathful. He will encounter no obstacles. Therefore, one should always rely on Vajrapani, take him as one’s shelter and refuge. Also, those who have chronic diseases will be cured through reciting the Mantra of Vajrapani.”

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks!

Find Four Lines

My lines: A line about friendship, A line about a memory, A line about nature, A line about a meal

Your lines: A line about friendship, A line about a fight, A line about nature, A line about sleep

I'll pull from End Times (HO3) :)

A Line About Friendship

Sepo stood with a groan, shaking out the stiffness from his legs. “You want us to stay here while you do your thing, or would that be a hindrance?”

Djek looked at the man in surprise. “While I do my thing?”

“You’re”—And here he sighed heavily— “right. Twenari and I don’t have the experience, or temperament, for this. You do. We can’t afford to dick around, so do you want us here or over there?”

The Amaranthi just stared for a while. That… that almost sounded like a compliment. Somewhere, he could hear the distant sound of a hell freezing over.

A Line About A Memory

“I still had burns on my face from the song of flame. The entire city watched breathlessly. It was my one chance—my one chance to speak the truth and decry the Sovereign for the tyrant she was. But looking up at her, the ruler I’d been taught my entire life was the mouthpiece of Lamsara Hedandros? I was too scared to say anything. She saw that and laughed. She laughed as her guards pried open my jaws and I almost choked on the cold iron. She laughed as blood filled the water and I lost my chance at speaking any final words ever again.”

“I’m sorry. That… doesn’t inspire confidence.” Twenari made a face.

Sepo only shrugged. “Well, seeing as I’m not the one getting her bones stepped on by dwarven scavengers, I think I came out on top.”

A Line About Nature

The scraps of sky that made it through the canopy had gone black and the tree trunks had been reduced to shaded giants by the time Twenari called for a stop. Normally, Djek didn’t mind the dark. His vision wasn’t too good anyways and, well, shadows were kind of his element. Yet, there was something about night in the Sarytas that put him ill at ease. There were no stars here, and no moon either. Not even fireflies lit their way this late in the season.

It was far from silent though. In contrast to the day’s subdued whispers, the forest had come alive with shifting leaves, hissing insects, whining boughs, and a shuffling in the underbrush Djek desperately hoped was a deer. Once, he’d heard something he was utterly positive was a woman’s scream. However, neither of the others had reacted, so he’d kept his mouth shut.

A Line About A Meal

“Sit with me,” the halawemavar said. She scooted out a chair for Solane and then sat herself. Just as she’d imagined, the food smelled enchanting—all fresh game and creamy soups and river mussels. Izjik was so hungry she didn’t even mind that it was cooked.

“Yes, great one. As you wish.” Solane did sit, but Izjik could see the confusion and fear in her eyes. The girl likely wasn’t sure if this was a trap or a test or what. It wasn’t every day you served a godkiller dinner.

“And you eat too. I can’t stand eating while people just watch, and this smells amazing, so you should at least taste it.” Izjik took a spare plate, put a few of the less appealing items—venison pie, noodles with cheese and mushrooms, anything with bread really—and handed it to the girl. The woman didn’t want to think about what sort of turmoil the young chef would go through if she found out her dread overlord didn’t like half of the food she’d made, so she figured it’d be best if that never came to light.

I'll tag @somethingclevermahogony @sergeantnarwhalwrites @agirlandherquill @tiredpapergirl and anyone else who wants to play :)

[hoppipolla]

Alcohol and characterisation in The Eighth Sense – Part 2

Episode 5

Alcohol is a means to pass time, to fill the void when a sense of boredom washes over you. Joon Pyo usually asks Ji Hyun if he wants a drink when he doesn’t know what else to do (after losing his game in ep 3 for instance). Yoon Won offers a get-together – with Jae Won and Tae Hyung – to Ae Ri and Ji Hyun because everyone has nothing planned for the evening so why not have some drinks?

I still stand by what I said in my previous text post about Jae Won never drinking to the point of losing complete control of himself. Even if Jae Won might have drunk a lot more during his freshman year – as Tae Hyung points out when he says he hasn’t seen Jae Won this drunk since freshman year – he always managed to get home on his own for Tae Hyung never once brought him back home. (“Jae Won took you home so many times when you were drunk. Why can’t you do the same just this time?” This is not a word-for-word translation but the English translation seemed a bit off here.)

Drunk Jae Won is an odd sight, even for the people closest to him. Yoon Won is surprised to see him in such a state and Ji Hyun is distressed to see him act so unlike himself.

It’s also the first time we see Jae Won expressing his anger and frustration in front of others in such an obvious way. He is used to Tae Hyung nasty remarks. He is used to people seeing him as someone who has no worries whatsoever and whose future is already all planned out. His mask knows how to handle such comments but he loses it when Tae Hyung describes having siblings as some kind of hindrance when you wish to inherit a business (which he does not btw). Even the most perfect mask would crack under such circumstances. The pain of losing his brother is a scar that will never heal nor fade. Jae Won carries this gaping wound in his heart every day although he tries to “shake it off” little by little as life goes on (cf. what his therapist tells him by the end of the episode). Tae Hyung can speak ill of him and spout nonsense but he shall never say anything that might remotely harm Jae Jin’s memory. He will never let that happen even if it means letting go of his mask.

Even when Jae Won gets drunk, he is still in control and it’s heart-breaking to see: he doesn’t just lose track of the drinks he has, he wants to get drunk. He’s trying hard to achieve that state: for once in his life, he wants to be irresponsible, he wants to forget, and he wants to stop his pain from gnawing at his heart. It’s not a coincidence he does so while Ji Hyun is by his side. A part of him thinks Ji Hyun will run away as soon as he sees this “messy” part of himself but Ji Hyun does the exact opposite. He’s always sensed that part of him lingering under the kindness of his eyes and the thoughtfulness of his actions. He’s always known it was there but Jae Won never let him see its rawness. 

Ji Hyun is not scared of him: he is scared for him. When he sees him emptying his glasses one after the other, he sees the intensity of his overflowing pain and despair and he is terrified of what it might make him do. 

Even when obviously drunk, Jae Won has a moment of clarity when Ji Hyun tells him that it’s up to him to define what acting as himself is like. Ji Hyun keeps him grounded even when he wants to let it all go, when he feels he cannot take another step forward. What’s so heart-wrenching in this scene is how Jae Won expected to be left alone at the end of the evening. He didn’t expect Ji Hyun to take him home (cf. ep 6: “You should’ve walked Ae Ri that night.”). He didn’t expect Ji Hyun to be the shoulder on which he could lean on when he felt too tired to keep his eyes open. He didn’t expect Ji Hyun to give him a hangover drink. He didn’t expect Ji Hyun to stick by his side after what he saw. 

His mask completely shatters when Ji Hyun tells him that he believes in him and that he’ll be there for him no matter what. No one ever saw his true self. No one ever saw his soul’s broken pieces. But Ji Hyun did and he is still looking at him with the same concerned eyes, his words carrying a warmth so gentle that Jae Won’s whole world is melting. That hug is Jae Won indulging in what his heart desires. That hug is Jae Won clinging onto his last hope. That hug is Jae Won letting himself feel a gentleness he’s never felt before.

I found it quite relevant that Ji Hyun answered Jae Won’s question – “What’s like acting like myself?” – after taking a shot of what Jae Won’s been drinking. He marks a pause, pours himself a glass, lets the alcohol burn his throat, and it’s only then that he finally answers – “It’s up to you.”. It’s as if he tried to understand what Jae Won was doing only to answer him that no one knows the answer to this question except for himself. He cannot answer this question in his place. Ji Hyun will be there as he searches for an answer but he will not nor can he give him an answer.

When Ji Hyun tells him that he can’t kiss him tonight, it is to emphasise the fact that he cannot act like he does with other people when he is with him. Ji Hyun won’t have it. He is telling him that he sees him for who he is and that it doesn’t matter if the person he is is someone so deeply broken, scared, and lost. It doesn’t matter to him that Jae Won wants to heal but the wounds from his past won’t let him. Nothing matters except Jae Won, the Jae Won behind the mask, the Jae Won who sees beauty in everything he lays his eyes on for he wanted to be a photography major. Ji Hyun will love Jae Won but he won’t save him. Jae Won will save himself because he is the only one who can.   

Episode 6

That half-light scene in episode 6 is like a chiaroscuro painting and it’s as beautiful as it is heart-rending. If Ji Hyun’s thoughtfulness was a light, it would have lit up the whole beach. His carefulness made him speak all the right words at the right times and it made him bring the fireworks the moment words were no longer enough to soothe Jae Won’s mind. There’s no alcohol in this episode – only hot drinks – because both of them bared their souls to each other. Alcohol would have muddled their thoughts and both needed to be clear-headed to be as honest as they were. It doesn’t mean that Jae Won was being rational – he wasn’t and everyone noticed how unstable he was – but he was being genuine and so alcohol never crossed their minds.  

Jae Won opened his heart in a way he had never done before, not even to himself. He let his open wound bleed thinking he could control the flow but he was taken aback when he realised he couldn’t utter the words – he couldn’t tell how his brother had died because the lump in his throat was impossible to swallow.

Ji Hyun’s presence forces him ever so gently to look at the things he’s been ignoring for the longest time. He didn’t want to face his pain and so he buried it. He felt safe in the army because he didn’t need to think about the things that mattered. He settled into a new routine and silenced his despair by diligently doing what he was told. But he had to come back. His military service came to an end and he was abruptly brought back to the cold reality. He now needs to make decisions for his future but how could he when he never expected to have a tomorrow? Jae Won  has been living in the dark for so long, he needs time to adjust to his new-found light and Ji Hyun is helping him do that. 

[riaarivic]

HATE 3: ...Ready for it? (M) I MYG x F!reader

🌙 Pairings YoongixReader

🌙 Genres Mafia!AU, Smut, Angst, Action, Thriller, Enemies to lovers

🌙 Rating 18+ minors DNI

🌙 Summary  You were an INTERPOL Agent assigned to infiltrate the depths of the most powerful Gang in South Korea: The Seven Moons. Your objective: to impersonate the daughter of one of their leaders and destroy the operation from within. That is, if they don't discover you first.

And Traitors won’t have the mercy of a quick death

🌙 Warnings For this chapter: mentions of death, drugs and vioence, foul language, drug use, yoongi is a tease and I'm putting it as a warning

🌙 Chapter wordcount 5.3k (yikes)

🌙 Series Index

1  2 3 4  5 6 7 8 9 10 11

🌙 HATE 3: ...Ready for it? 🌙

"Knew he was a killer first time that i saw him"

Confidential file Department of Organized and Emerging Crime Case N-7902-E Codename: Black Swan

Agent Name: Y/N Park

Assigned name for Mission: Lee Nari

Nari? as in Lilly in Korean?

You couldn't help but find it odd that the boss chose your own Korean name for this mission. You rarely used it, and only your grandmother ever called you that.

But, odd was about to become your middle name.

You skimmed through the files scattered on the desk, noticing some of them were thinner than a toothpick.

That was a bad sign.

Thin files meant limited information, and that meant you were being sent into a foreign country with minimal knowledge. You didn't like the idea of walking into the unknown, especially considering that the only thing you had from Korea was your father's last name and the last time you saw him alive you were a six-year-old.

You definitely needed to talk to her grandmother more often.

You were an expert in infiltration and counterintelligence, but to be honest Your personality was not what you would expect from a young high class korean lady. 

For that, you would need a lot of practice before leaving.

A Chaebol daughter wouldn't know the difference between an AK-47 and a FAMAS, much less how to take it apart and put it together in a few seconds. Right?

Or how to disarm a man with one hand, a bullet in the shoulder in the middle of a…

Focus Y/N

You close your eyes for a second and open the first file and the picture of a man with a scar on his left eye greeted you, and you sighed.

It was going to be a long night and you didn’t have enough information to start this case.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Incheon Airport, South Korea.

October 10, 9:19 AM

The brisk autumn air nipped at your skin as you made your way into the international departure hall. You weren't sure if it was the weather or the adrenaline of embarking on a new mission that sent shivers down your spine. After all, you'd spent the past few days prepping to slip into the role of a pampered, elegant heiress, something that felt as unnatural as stilettos in a gunfight.

You also spent the last few days trying not to poison your partner Emmet, for every time he made fun of how much you hated this new undercover identity.

And don't even get you started on those fake nails; they were more of a hindrance than a help when it came to handling firearms or knocking some sense into people.

But it was not impossible to do.

Scanning the crowd, you looked for the person meant to meet you in the parking lot. In the middle of a crowd, a burly middle-aged man stood out in his ill-fitting suit. He had the demeanor of a gangster but the face of a teddy bear. Your eyes scanning him, looking for the Clan's tattoo – a crescent moon veiled by clouds.

Any member of the Seven Moons had to wear it in a visible place, a sort of gangster business card. This man had it inked at the base of his neck.

The man approached you with large steps smiling all the time, who knew a gangster could pass as a Golden Retriever Boyfriend  “Welcome Miss Lee, your father is waiting for you in the car” he bowed and took your luggage to take you towards the Mercedes that was parked right outside the door.

As you slid into the car, you were greeted by the smiling face of Lee Kikyung, the man who'd sold out his boss to save his own skin. And now, you had to call him "Dad."

Ugh.

"How was your trip, dear Nari? I hope you were comfortable on the flight," he asked, wearing a fake smile. You cringed at the sound of your childhood nickname, but you had to start getting used to it.

"It was good, um... Dad," you replied with a slight accent. "I hope you work on that pronunciation, precious. We wouldn't want them catching on so soon," he replied, a mischievous grin exposing a gold tooth. He was so close you could see the clan's mark on his neck, peeking out from under his expensive shirt.

What a piece of work.

"We need to head straight to the Kim Building. I don't know if your informants filled you in."

No, they didn't, you thought, but you let him continue.

"Last night, there was a lot of commotion among the Sons. All seven were down at the docks, and that's a rare sight. Looks like a big fish has entered the river. Two birds with one stone, huh? I bet you're up for a promotion after this, sweetheart." You had to resist the urge to throat-punch him, the way he was looking at you.

This guy didn't shut up the entire drive to the Kim Building. He barely took a breath between his rapid words, as if he wanted to unload everything at once and be done with you.

Classic snitch. From his body language, it was clear that beneath the old asshole’s facade, his trembling hand betrayed his nervousness. Old Lee, dressing like a character straight out of "The Godfather," might fool others, but to you, he was a washed-up criminal trying to hang on to his last vestiges of glory. How he'd climbed the ranks to lead one of the world's largest Criminal Clans was a mystery to you.

But something he said piqued your interest. The Seven Moons rarely gathered in one place, primarily for security reasons. "It's likely that all the children will be there at the meeting today," he revealed.

That really caught your attention and you turned to look at him "The Devil has summoned us all to his office. So, if I were you, I'd touch up that makeup a bit. It seems you're in luck today, sweetheart. You'll be meeting The Seven Moons."

For you, luck had nothing to do with it. Your plan had been to discreetly gather information before exposing yourself in such a way.

It was a change of plans, but not an entirely bleak one. In fact, things might not be as bad as they first seemed.

But now you'd have to improvise. The sooner you could get one of them in your pocket for the information you needed, the sooner you'd be headed home, and all these criminals would be where they belonged—

Jail.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

BH Group Headquarters, Gangnam, Seoul, South Korea.

'The Office' Lee Kikyung mentioned you were going was a towering 77-story office complex that served as a front for the legal businesses funding the clan's extravagant lifestyle.

As you entered, the luxurious reception area greeted you with its tall glass windows and elegant chandeliers, making you shudder to think about the costs of building all of this. The floor, adorned with expensive black marble featuring gold veins was framed with the clan's symbol, unmistakably declaring this territory as belonging to Kim DoHan.

It felt like stepping into the gates of hell.

Accompanied by a team of about 15 suited bodyguards with menacing tattoos, you and your 'father' took the elevator to the top floor; It seemed to you that it was too much security for a friendly board meeting.

This meant that Lee's two hour TED Talk on "how to get away with snitching" was true: something was moving on the streets of Seoul.

As the doors opened to the conference room, you were struck by the absence of concrete walls, replaced entirely by windows offering a breathaking view of the city. In the center of the room stood an opulent table crafted from Japanese cherry wood. Several people were already sitting around it, in an order that did not seem improvised at all.

You sat down right next to Mr. Lee taking your time to examine everyone there. Most of the presents seemed to be different executives from the Kim companies, for the first time today you did not feel completely surrounded by gangsters.

However, the feeling did not last long.

The elevator doors slid open, and six tall figures strode into the meeting room. Instantly, everyone seated at the table rose to bow and pay their respects.

These were the young leaders of the clan, dressed in dark suits and moving with an eerie synchrony, as if they hailed from another world. In person, their presence was even more striking. Even the act of walking into a meeting room seemed to be precisely choreographed, every step filled with purpose.

You recognized their faces from the files, matching names to positions within the clan:

Kim Namjoon, the biological son and right-hand man, also the CEO of BH Group.

Kim Seokjin, the Clan's negotiator and financial administrator.

Jung Hoseok, the Clan's Support, essentially the go-to guy for various criminal needs.

Kim Taehyung, the Clan's Collector, responsible for ensuring debts were paid in either money or blood.

Park Jimin, the Clan's intelligence expert and overseer of the clan's nightlife businesses.

Jeon Jungkook, the youngest of the clan with no formal role, but per Mr. Lee's extensive criminal monologue, he was responsible for training new recruits in combat and held a special place in Kim DoHan's heart.

Yet, you noticed there was one missing, only six were present.

Where was the seventh?

Your question found an answer when the doors opened once more.

"Welcome, Sir!" The entire room chorused in unison. You managed to mimic the bow, though somewhat awkwardly. There was an amused snort from the Young leaders's side of the table, but it was hard to pinpoint the source.

When you looked up, you locked eyes with the Clan's second in command. His gaze held a mocking curiosity, almost taunting.

Kim Namjoon looked at you as if you weren't a trained agent but a bumbling, spoiled child, just another chaebol. You rolled your eyes right back at him. There was something in his expression that seemed vaguely familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

"My Sons, my family. Good afternoon, and thank you for gathering at such short notice," the Clan leader's deep voice resonated through the room. "Lee, I'm delighted to see that you've brought a special guest today."

Chills coursed down your spine. No matter how experienced you were with criminals, there was an undeniable air of menace surrounding that man. An instinctual warning to put as much distance between yourself and him as humanly possible, as quickly as possible.

“Of course, my leader. I couldn't be more pleased by the return of my daughter” Mr. Lee replied with a wicked smile “After all, it was time to introduce my heiress” upon hearing that word, Kim's children looked at her, some with curiosity and others with complete indifference.

The Clan's head let out a light chuckle in agreement with the second-in-command before gesturing for everyone to take their seats.

And that's when you noticed him.

The man with the distinctive scar over his eye.

His real name was conspicuously absent from INTERPOL's classified files. In fact, there was nothing substantial about him—just a blurry image of his face.

And oh God. It didn’t do him justice.

Everything about him screamed danger.

He was the Clan's Strenght Leader, handling all the not-so-legal affairs.

Kim Namjoon ran the legitimate businesses, handled the money, and rubbed shoulders with CEOs and politicians.

The Shadow, as he was known, was Seoul's underworld Prince.

Standing silently behind the Clan's Head, he was like a deadly predator, waiting for the order to strike. Unlike the rest who sported expensive executive suits, his casual and nonchalant style made him stand out in the room. You know how, in nature, the most vibrant and beautiful colors often serve as a warning for poison? That analogy perfectly described him. The seventh moon's striking appearance nearly made you forget that he was the underworld lord of his clan, a cold-blooded assassin at the Devil's command.

Hi was Kim DoHan's dark general.

And probably the most dangerous man in that room.

Suga wore a black mask covering most of his face, but you could still glimpse the beginning of a scar that traveled from his left eyebrow down to his eye.

And those eyes.

He kept his gaze locked onto you, scrutinizing you, just as you had observed his brothers earlier. He watched your every move, as if he had already found a reason to be wary.

You couldn't help but feel uncomfortable under his gaze and for the first time in a long time, you looked away from someone. It felt like if you kept staring at him, all your secrets would unravel.

That was a level of danger you couldn't afford.

"You must be wondering why I summoned you from your busy schedules for this meeting," the Clan leader's voice broke the silence. "It is no secret that I'm preparing one of my sons to ascend as the clan's leader. And soon, by tradition, we must continue our family's legacy by uniting bloodlines. The prevalence of the clan above all else is the only thing that matters. Nothing else. "

Not a single person in the room dared to so much as breathing too loud. The palpable respect – or rather, terror – held everyone's tongue.

He took a solemn pause before continuing, "That's why I've decided my heir will marry the Lee family heiress. The Lees were one of our greatest allies, joining our clan twenty years ago. I had promised my dear brother Kikyung that one day, one of his own would wed one of mine. Kikyung, my brother-in-arms, you've been my right hand all these years before Namjoon came of age. This is my reward for your loyalty."

What the fuck did this man just say? 

Marriage?

You couldn't hide your complete shock. There was no way that your so-called "father" and informant didn't deliberately omit this crucial detail from his UN General Assembly-worthy speech on organized crime as you were driving to the Headquarters.

The director had to know as well.

Which led to the unsettling thought: what else were they not telling you?

You weren't the only one caught off guard. The other children of the clan's leader couldn't contain their own bewilderment. Some squirmed in their seats, while others exchanged uneasy glances.

This had to be some twisted joke.

Even the seventh moon, for a microsecond, showed a speck of curiosity in his cold eyes.

"Since the hand of the Lee heiress has been promised, I have formally decided that she will reside in our private estate until my successor's name is confirmed," the clan leader declared. "I want all my children under my roof, without exception. And let me make it perfectly clear: none of you shall dare disrespect young-lady Nari. In the name of the code, Am I understood?"

"Yes, Leader," the Seven Moons responded in unison.

Wait, the name of his heir hadn't been decided yet?

You temporarily set aside Kim DoHan's implications about his children. None of those fools would dare touch you – unless they fancied losing a limb – all in the name of your code.

But given the intelligence you'd gathered about these individuals, Kim Namjoon was on a one-way ticket to becoming the Clan's leader. The overseas studies, the visits to criminal acquaintances in Russia, Japan and China, vacations with corrupt government officials and their entourage...

What did that say about Kim DoHan's faith in his own bloodline?

The Hallmark movie plot of giving all his adopted sons a chance at leadership was, without a doubt, suspicious.

However, some pieces were starting to click into place. Lee was betraying them to save his true daughter. If she married the clan's heir, there'd be no escaping the consequences when everything came crashing down.

Yet, your supposed father-dearest had delivered you on a silver platter to the Seven Moons.

It was a complete game-changer.

Old Mr. Lee wasn't scared of jail.

He was frightened for his own flesh and blood to be embroiled in a sinking ship. How he had managed to keep his daughter's true identity hidden for so long was a mystery. Did the all-powerful Kim DoHan truly not know his right-hand heiress's name until now?

There were too many loose ends, something was truly wrong.

Both men rose to shake hands, their exchange echoing with, "My clan is my family. My own flesh and blood."

"It will be an honor to welcome you into my family, young Nari," the old leader continued, his eyes locking onto yours. For some reason, your real father's affectionate nickname sounded downright chilling coming from the clan leader's lips.

It wasn't jail that terrified him, old Mr. Lee. It was  dooming his own blood to get involved with a ship that was about to sink. But how had he managed to hide his daughter's identity for all this time? Did the powerful Kim DoHan really not know the name of his right hand heiress until today?

Too many loose ends, and something was definitelly wrong.

Both men rose to shake hands “Family is my blood. My clan is my family” they told each other

“It will be an honor to welcome you into my family, young Nari” continued the old leader, drawing your attention and looking into your eyes. For some reason, the cute nickname your father had given you sounded terrifying in that person's mouth.

You offered a small bow in response, and when you straightened, the Seventh Moon was gazing directly at you.

There was something in his stare you couldn't quite define, but it was clear you didn't like how it made you feel.

You had never been intimidated by anyone before, yet you now teetered on the edge of a panic attack because of a pretty boy watching you.

A pretty boy who was a killer.

He couldn't possibly suspect anything about you, right? you wondered.

"Now, Mr. Choi," the clan leader signaled the man who had brought you there, "why don't you take this little flower to our residence, while the adults discuss other important matters?"

What the hell did this old man just call you?

Before leaving, you caught a reflection of his eyes in the glass door.

Ever vigilant.

Fine, Suga, I'll give you a reason to keep an eye on me. you thought

Perhaps this marriage scheme could work to your advantage.

Your mission was to infiltrate, and what better way than living within the Seven Moons' den.

Meanwhile, at the back of your mind, the myriad of loose ends left you with a lingering sense of unease.

Too many missing pieces...

And something was about to go so.

fucking.

wrong. 

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Kim Dohan’s manssion, Outskirts of Seoul

hours later

Sleep was out of the question tonight...

You had spent the entire afternoon and well into the night scouring for any scrap of information about the Seven Moons headquarters. Leaving your room, you crept through the dark corridors, making no sound.

Counting each step from your room to the next door leading to the exit was mentally logged. You noted the bulletproof glass in the windows and assumed that they had around 30 armed men guarding the house at any given moment. The Clan's den was an opulent display of excess; these criminals thrived on ostentation.

But that was a priviledge you could have when you controlled an entire nation, you could do as you pleased.

Who the hell thought of putting a lake in the middle of a house? You continued moving through the mansion crossing the internal gardens.

One thing remained undeniably true: the mansion of the most powerful criminal clan in Asia was an impenetrable fortress, nestled atop a hill, far from the bustling city of Seoul.

It had only one entrance and one exit, and its labyrinthine architecture made it all too easy to get lost within its confines. It was guarded around the clock by clansmen, armed to the teeth, with an arsenal hidden within its walls. It seemed like hey had their very own army.

Surviving an escape was highly unlikely...

at least not without help from someone on the inside.

As you made your way to the kitchen, your mind raced like an overloaded computer, with music playing from unknown open tabs.

Old Kim couldn't possibly not know his right-hand daughter's name...

Why had he offered you as a marriage reward? What was your -The daughter of Lee Kikyun- value to the clan?

How come Kim DoHan hadn't chosen his successor?

After minutes of aimless wandering, you finally found the tall double doors leading to the kitchen. Inside, luxurious countertops and shelves held utensils fit for a Michelin-star restaurant.

If this house wasn't so ridiculously big it would be easier to drink water. Where are the glasses? in Busan?

If you had to run away from this house it would probably be better to hide in the kitchen, no one would find you.

Have you left the safety on the Glock?

Who the hell is smoking weed?

The pungent smell momentarily distracted you. You'd been so focused on finding a glass that you hadn't noticed someone else was in the room. A slim figure lingered in the shadows of the window, barely revealed by the moonlight.

But you didn't need to see the full face to recognize him...

The Seventh Moon.

"Do you smoke?" the black-haired man asked from across the room, his voice so deep it was almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine.

"I don't do drugs, thanks," you replied with a flat, disinterested tone, or at least you tried to. "But could you point me to where the glasses are... please?"

The man chuckled and moved closer, rounding the kitchen island until he stood just inches from you. He gazed at you for a moment, then reached behind your head for a glass. His face inches from yours

You felt trapped, exposed.

For a moment, you forgot you were also a trained soldier on a mission. This man had you feeling like a blushing schoolgirl from a corny drama, much like the ones your grandmother watched.

You're not going to be intimidated, are you?

For the first time, you got a good look at his face, the scar running down his eye, his round nose, the way his jaw moved as he frowned, and his almost pouty lips.

That man was beautiful.

You could even smell him, beyond the scent of what he was smoking, you could pick up the musk of his cologne. The open collar of his shirt revealed tattoos peeking out and the muscles in his neck...

"You like what you see, little flower?" he teased, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips, before handing you the glass and taking a drag of his joint. "But I must inform you, anyone who sees my face without being a full clan member... ends up dead." He exhaled a plume of smoke in your direction.

Chills coursed through your body. You weren't entirely sure whether you were more aroused or irritated.

"Technically. I'm now part of your clan. You heard your father, I'm going to marry one of you," you replied, shaking your head, trying to maintain your cool.

Suga found your bratty attitude funny. "Wouldn't you like that, huh?" He got a little closer to your face to look directly into your eyes “Technically, yes you are part of the Clan. But until you take the oath and mark your pretty skin with our mark. You are not one of us, little flower” he replied, putting away a lock of hair that had fallen into your eyes.

"I think SUGA, our Leader's orders were quite explicit. Stop toying with our guest, and if you're going to smoke that shit, do it outside my house." Namjoon's authoritative voice cut through, catching both of you off guard. You seized the opportunity to slip away from Suga's grip.

Suga raised his hands in a mock surrender and looked at his second in command. "I was just offering our new friend a glass of water, Joonie. It'd be rude not to show a bit of our clan's hospitality, wouldn't it, little flower?" He winked at you.

"Nothing was happening. I couldn't find the glasses, and I was thirsty," you replied, failing to hide the compromising position you'd been in with the Clan's Shadow. "And don't call me that, that's not my name."

"Nari, lily, little flower. They're all the same," he responded, making a playful smile and leaving you momentarily flustered.

Perfect, let them think you're a complete idiot. Amazing job.

“Leave her alone, now. Suga” Namjoon spoke again with a voice of authority “Excuse him, he is not used to behaving like a human, much less having manners with a lady” He referred as his own brother like he was not a human being standing next to them 

Does this Namjoon guy have a prince charming complex or what?

"Oh, please, your majesty! I'll go finish my joint in peace elsewhere. Oh, and Namjoon, you should respect your elders. I'm still your hyung, and this isn't your house... yet," the black-haired man stated with a note of warning, bowing to you before leaving and flipping off the other man.

Namjoon sighed. "I'm sorry, really. He has no control. Did you want a glass of water?" He took the glass from your hands, opened the fridge, and began to pour you some. “I know it will be difficult for you to adapt to the rules of this house, but if you need something you can ask one of the employees. They are always here to serve you” 

"I didn't want to bother anyone, it's late," your reply was short a tittle more sour than you intended it to be.

"And you shouldn't worry. You now belong to this house, and it's the staff's job to take care of you. But, I'm glad we ran into eachother tonight. I wanted to speak with you before tomorrow's meeting..." Namjoon paused and scratched his neck, as if deciding the best way to approach the subject.

"Tomorrow, you'll be formally introduced to the clan. From that day on, you'll need to make the rounds with each one of us," he explained. "My father wants you to be thoroughly acquainted with every aspect of our operations. Even if I disagree with certain aspects, my father trusts yours. And I trust my Leader."

Namjoon's kind expression shifted to a stern one, his gaze intensifying. "Miss Lee, I don't know you well, and neither do any of my brothers. However, in this clan, we take loyalty very seriously. As of tomorrow, you may witness or hear things that must remain within these walls. It might be overwhelming at first, but you have no other options. And things might be unconfortable until you take the oath. But until then, you must still act in accordance with the code, or face the consequences. Is that clear?"

With his eloquent speech and steady tone, the Second in Command had just issued a subtle threat.

Well, not so subtle...

"First, Mr. Kim, there's no need to be so formal when talking to me. After all, in a few months, I'll be marrying the heir of this clan. That makes me your future sister-in-law... or wife," you stated, raising your chin with a haughty air. Namjoon remained silent, allowing you to continue.

"Second, I understand that we have to take our parents' word for the success of this alliance," feeling your blood rise to your ears, you knew you were playing a dangerous game "But I want to remind you that I am also a daughter of this clan. Blood and weapons don't intimidate me. In any case, both of us should show respect to our elders. After all, our fates rest in their hands." Taking a small step closer, he didn't budge.

But you could never guess how you were making the young leader feel. As much as he hated that you tried to hurt his pride like that, the Second in command saw for the first time in someone, an equal, a true opponent at that.

He was also undeniably intrigued by you.

"I may not know you yet, but I'm living in your house, I mean, your father's house. And I expect a modicum of consideration."  You pretended to be offended because that was the role you had to play, a spoiled, conceited heiress to the mafia.

“I have offended you. Excuse me if my words sounded like something else... “

“Okay, I understand you Namjoon, can I call you by your name? We have the same age” you interrupted him in the middle of his sentence.

“Yes, of course, can I call you Nari?” Namjoon loved the sound of his name on your lips. Of course, you could call him whatever you wanted.

“Great, thank you very much for the water and for helping me before. Good night”  With a bow, You shot out of the kitchen.

“Good Night. And Nari?” he waited for you to look at him “It is really nice to see you again. You look different now, prettier. I hope you rest well, you're going to need it tomorrow” he winked at you and your blood froze in your veins. 

Kim Namjoon had met Mr. Lee's daughter before? Why hadn't Mr. Lee mentioned anything about it?

Your heart pounded in your ears.

It had been too much.

The gaps on this mission were becoming too much.

You needed to get your act together, no more games. You were already deep within the lion's den, and time was running out.

You had never failed a mission before, and this wouldn't be the first time...

No matter how appealing the Clan's Shadow was or what he made you feel.

As much as the threat of the Second in command had actually terrified you.

Without mentioning the fact that he knew Lee’s daughter.

You had to keep going; there was no turning back now.

And you would bring this clan to its knees... that was a promise.

"Baby let the games begin... are you ready for it?"

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Hi! Hello?? 👻

How are you??? I've been supper busy with work and responsible adult duties and all that. So, it took more than I wanted to upload. BUT! this chapter is actually the longest yet, as a treat for my lack of updates. If you want to be on this fics Tag list, leave a comment below or send me an ask!!

Thank you SO SO MUCH for reading this series 🥹, there's so much to come and I am exited to show you all. Anyway it's 3AM where I Am so I guess I'll go to sleep.

Hope you guys have a great weekend

Love Ria 💗

[savage-rhi]

Ardyn x reader? But with some dialogue prompts

"Close your Eyes for me Love"

And

"Listen to me . . .take deep breaths, yes follow my breathing just like that. There's no need to panic, I'm right here now, aren't I? You're safe"

You can honestly use these for any scenario you see fit. But these ones spoke to me as someone that is an anxious person.

@sillylittlevulpine OKAY. I got WAY too carried away with this prompt, but I hope you like the outcome!

Niflheim's celebration of it's imperial founding was well underway at the main palace. Though Aldercapt dedicated much of his life to Zegnatus Keep as his main base of operations, he dare not soil tradition when it came to the birthday of the empire. The grand hall was filled to the brim with people. Most hailing from the richer provinces within Niflheim, though on this day, commoners were allowed to mingle within reason. 

The night was alive. Chandeliers glimmered and bounced off an array of light, illuminating everyone’s elegant clothes. Music from magnificent orchestras thrummed through bodies and pulsed against eardrums. Deep conversations came and went. The grand hall was filled with rich scents and smoke from candles that made Y/N feel like they were underwater; in another world where they shouldn’t have dwelled. 

When Ardyn approached Y/N a week prior to the event, they didn’t anticipate feeling so miniscule. Y/N had participated in a fair share of parties, but nothing close to this. They were beginning to regret not taking Ardyn up on his offer of him buying a formal gown on their behalf. Though Y/N considered their attire for the night to be nice, it also stuck out like a sore thumb when it came to class standing. The higher imperials made it known in jest. 

While Y/N swirled their wine around in their glass, they fixated on the fireworks that were going off outside the large glass windows leading to the balcony. The thundering booms did little to ease their nerves, but watching explosions was far better than dealing with people. Since Ardyn was summoned to entertain envoys from Accordo, Y/N lost count of the many that approached them. 

Like a horde of locusts eyeing a fine grain, they swarmed; asking numerous questions. It wasn’t everyday the chancellor had someone at his arm when it came to these events. Ardyn was fairly private despite his sly and charismatic demeanor. Though Y/N had rehearsed with Ardyn, they found themself stumbling when it came to questions addressing the nature of their relationship. The quriked eyebrows and snide remarks at times further made Y/N’s nerves fire off. 

Y/N so badly wanted to tell the truth; that Ardyn brought them along to blend in with the culture of the higher imperials. He had rumors at court to quell, and was dealing with people in opposing nations trying to sway public opinion negatively regarding his lack of familiars. It was as he said: having a mysterious aura does wonders when it comes to the art of persuasion, but it also has its hindrance. And people were catching on that Ardyn wasn’t just quirky, but there was another level. Something dangerous that could even put someone like the emperor in harms way. Little did anyone know, Ardyn was the empires best kept secret. 

Y/N knew Ardyn was infected with the scourge, having caught him in a moment of weakness when the daemonic miasma flared throughout his body and he needed aid. Before then, he seldom if ever talked to Y/N. Although, Y/N noted he was courteous when need be. The dynamic changed after that night when Ardyn promised not to harm them if they kept their silence he was infected.

Conversations and meetups began to become a common occurrence between them both. Y/N was scared out of their mind at first; believing he would go back on his word and kill them, but Ardyn wormed his way in like always with whomever crossed his path. 

Ardyn stated several times in passing to Y/N that he felt relief being able to be open with someone about his illness. For years, he only had the company of Verstael and Aldercapt when it came to such things. Even then, the relationships boiled down to how his mind and powers could be put to the empires benefit while they searched for a cure for his ailment. At least, that was what Ardyn had told Y/N when it came to his story. 

Ardyn never said they were friends outright, but there was a strong camaraderie that grew between Y/N and him over the past several months. It was something Y/N tried to remind themself of in the present when another round of people came over and interrupted the firework display. Such sentimentalities couldn’t drown out their anxiety, and soon, Y/N took off pushing past people. 

Blood pounded in Y/N’s ears. Their hands quivered, and their feet tingled as if maggots were crawling over each nerve that ran down their toes. Y/N had to get away from the crowd and all the decadence. There was no thought or reason that traveled through their mind, only a resonating panic that felt primal. 

Eventually, Y/N’s retreat brought them to one of the common ways; smaller halls within the palace that led to a multitude of rooms. Scattered about were large statues of the gods, and previous Niflheim rulers. Y/N slouched against a pillar nearby, and took a long, slow deep breath, then rounded the corner out of sight as guests came and went. 

Y/N wrapped their arms around their chest so tight, that their nails dug into their sides. Their breathing was hard. Really hard. As if they had ran across Niflheim and all the way to Tenebrae. Bile rose in Y/N’s throat as they attempted to stifle their sobs. Although their body was on fire in the worst way possible, a small token of relief washed over Y/N. At least they were free of the grand hall. The consolation however didn’t do much when it came to their guilt. They were here to give Ardyn a good impression, and this outburst was sure to undo a lot. 

As if he heard their thoughts from afar, the sound of Ardyn’s boots hitting the marbled floors had Y/N swallow hard. The common way was dark, but they could see his features coming into the light thanks to the lamps nearby. There was a ferocious concern in his honey eyes that made Y/N tremble while he approached. 

“There you are,” Ardyn paused, leaning forward to catch is breath momentarily before he fixed his posture. He tilted his head curiously, studying Y/N from head to toe. “I heard whispers you took off in a hurry. Are you hurt?” 

“N-no,” Y/N shook their head. Their voice shook and another wave of fear began to crawl against the hairs of their flesh. “I--needed to get away.”

“Y/N?” 

“I---too many people. Too many questions. I couldn’t do it anymore! And the rude comments, and the noise, the music, it’s all just---gods, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you look stupid. So stupid for bringing me here! I don’t belong here--with these people. I don’t belong here with you. I’m nothing like them, and I--”

“Shhh, hey, hey, hey…” Ardyn’s voice started firm then faded softly. His hands gripped either side of Y/N’s shoulders, and he gave a gentle squeeze. “Look at me.” 

Y/N forced themself to tilt their head up and gaze at him. His hardened stare from before settled. A look of regret now combed over his features while Y/N continued to sob. 

“If there’s any fault to be had, its at my expense,” Ardyn began. “I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long. Feeding you to the wolves wasn’t my intention.” 

“I---I slipped up so many times,” Y/N choked. “C-couldn’t get my stories straight. Just one person after the other---and I’m already dirt. I don’t belong with you or them. T-they told me as much. And--” 

“You’re right,” Ardyn murmured. “You are nothing like them, that’s precisely why I wanted you at my side tonight. I may seem well put together, but I get nervous at large festivities myself.”

“Y-you get nervous?” 

Ardyn nodded and stepped closer so the rest of their conversation was out of earshot. “Do you know what I do to curb such ill feelings?” 

Y/N shook their head, noting the childish grin that began to grow from Ardyn’s mouth. 

“I envision everyone I meet, naked. It takes away their power.” 

There was no way Y/N could stop the exhausted laugh that tumbled from their throat. Ardyn’s own bout followed suit. Alas it didn’t tamper down the adrenaline rush of panic that still remained in Y/N’s body. Their smile dwindled after the punchline lost its majesty, and they were crying. 

Ardyn furrowed his brows and moved his hands from Y/N’s shoulders and to their face. Each palm cupping their cheek. “Close your eyes for me, love.” 

“W-what?” 

“Close them.” 

Despite the uncertainty, Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut. The erratic pulse of their heart continued to throb behind their ears. Only the sigh that escaped from Ardyn momentarily pulled Y/N out of their inner turmoil. 

"Listen to me…take deep breaths,” Ardyn muttered. He too joined in, inhaling slowly through his nose, and exhaling through his mouth. It wasn’t long before Y/N began to sync to his tempo, and relief began to pool in his mind, knowing a fire would soon be put out. 

“Yes, follow my breathing just like that. There’s no need to panic. I’m right here now, aren’t I? You’re safe.” 

“Y-yeah,” Y/N said in between breaths. Fragrant oils that were upon Ardyn’s clothes and skin found its way to Y/N’s nostrils. The familiarity along with the red wine on his breath aided in calming them down. 

After some time, Y/N opened their eyes. It was so quiet, they half expected Ardyn to have been gone. He still remained in front of them. His hands still holding their face while his thumbs absentmindedly trailed underneath their eyes. Y/N had a morbid thought of Ardyn plucking out their eyeballs. He could easily perform such an insidious action given his infection, but alas nothing came of it. The intrusive thought ran away seeing the faint yet sincere smile that formed on his lips. 

“I fear we must--” Before Ardyn could finish his sentence, he saw some of the Accordo envoys and a round of higher imperials making their way toward his and Y/N’s general vicinity. The face he made had Y/N look over his shoulder, hearing the commotion coming from the group. 

“Gods be damned,” Ardyn whispered bitterly, letting go of Y/N’s face. “Not them.” 

“I thought you got along with them?” Y/N sniffled, taking a moment to wipe their eyes. 

“Yes and no,” Ardyn begrudgingly answered. “I have no patience let alone the disposition to listen to the words of drunkards tonight. Especially when it involves politics beyond my reach. No doubt once they see me, they’ll try dragging me in for another debate.” 

A light went off in Y/N’s head. Though they were still healing from the panic attack, they pushed through the last of their nerves and quickly gestured at Ardyn’s hat. 

“Get closer to me.” Y/N stepped forward and more into Ardyn’s personal space. Not giving him the chance to register the sudden intrusion. The look of bewilderment on his face would’ve made Y/N laugh any other time but now. 

“I’m afraid I’m not following?” 

“You don’t want to talk to them right?” Y/N began. “Well, take your hat and shield our faces with it. Lean in close. It’ll give them the impression we’re being intimate and don’t want to be bothered. Just trust me on this.” 

Ardyn’s mouth parted to protest, but as soon as he heard his name being hollered, he quickly went through the motions that Y/N requested. Ardyn leaned forward and heard Y/N’s breath hitch in their throat. His eyes were glued onto theirs now, and he couldn’t help but smirk at both the awe and nervousness that dwelled in Y/N’s gaze. It reminded Ardyn of the night they had seen him as Adagium, and didn’t run. Intrigue and a twist of something more primal began to pull at his mind. 

The shuffling of boots and shoes grew closer, and it wasn’t long before the group ventured by. Ardyn’s name was shouted a few times, until several aggressive hushes followed suit. Both Y/N and he could hear the whisperings, and Ardyn used his free arm to wrap around Y/N’s waist. Whatever doubts the drunken buffoons had at what they were witnessing fell away and soon colleagues beckoned their fellow peers to give space and privacy. A few wolf whistles here and there was given, and the flock retreated back to the festivities. 

“See? They bought it! ” Y/N laughed with a grin. Whatever embarrassment they initially felt started to fade, but puzzlement began to take its place especially when it became obvious he had no intention of letting them go. 

“Ardyn?” 

He didn’t say a word. Not even his breath could easily be detected. 

Ardyn stared at Y/N with an intense look in his eyes, where they could tell he was thinking hard. There was something irresistible about the vehemence his golden eyes held, and before Y/N could stop themself they leaned forward until their face brushed up against Ardyn’s. The stubble on his chin scratched them, and Y/N waited a moment, in case he wanted to pull away but he didn’t move. 

Y/N’s emotions were so tangled from the night, that doubt began to creep in. Before it could take root and sprout, they closed the last bit of space between themself and Ardyn and pressed their lips against his. From the gentle push and pull of his mouth, Y/N could tell he’d been waiting for this and strangely so have they. 

Ardyn’s hand at Y/N’s waist slid down further. His fingers dug into Y/N’s hip. He sensed the shiver that traveled down their spine and deepened the kiss. It’s not long before his tongue meets Y/N’s, and he wastes no time mapping out their mouth. Their taste was intoxicating to him, much like the wine he had nursed himself with during the worst flare ups of the scourge.

Ardyn was surprised with himself, that even after 2,000 years his body still remembered what this felt like. He was so indulged with the soothing texture of Y/N’s mouth against his lips that he didn’t register them pulling away initially, until the warmth had left him in yearning.

Y/N watched Ardyn lick his bottom lip while his hooded eyes studied them. They felt their knees wanting to give out at the image alone. Shaking, they reached for Ardyn’s hat that somehow continued to shield them both, and they took it from his grasp and placed it on top of his head. Y/N grinned briefly, averting their gaze downward. That’s when they felt Ardyn’s right hand gently grab at their chin, coaxing them to look up. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Ardyn breathed. 

“You’re right, but you didn’t stop either.” 

“Touche’,” Ardyn huffed. “I have questions for you.” 

“And I have a million to ask you.” Y/N countered with a shy murmur. They smiled at the amused laugh that left him. 

“It seems we’re at an impasse,” Ardyn chuckled. His fingers gently stroked Y/N’s skin before letting them go. “Allow me to begin: do you want to leave this place?” 

“Don’t you have people to meet and greet?” 

“Yes,” Ardyn bluntly stated, then smiled as if he was up to something mischievous. “But you see, my distinguished guest I brought along suddenly fell to illness. Wine doesn’t mix well when you’re under the weather. I couldn’t fathom letting my plus one continue to carry on. For the sake of their health, I had to take them home or I wouldn’t live with myself.”

Gods, he was a masterful liar and he did it so well that Y/N couldn’t help but fall for the charm. The playful demeanor of Ardyn’s words while he conjured up his tall tale excuse had Y/N’s pulse stammer in their neck.

“What happens after we leave?” 

“We can go anywhere you want,” Ardyn sincerely whispered. His features began to shift, looking morose almost. “The important thing is you and I need to talk.” 

“About what happened just now?”

“Yes,” Ardyn paused. He contemplated his next words carefully. “And there’s some things I must share with you, about my condition, but not here.” 

Y/N could only nod to his terms. No other questions or words would leave them. Not when their mind lingered on how saddened his voice was. Before anything else could potentially be said, Ardyn excused himself to go make the arrangements for their departure, and told Y/N to wait for him at the front gates. 

As he walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why they felt a heaviness in their stomach; that whatever Ardyn had to share, it would change their dynamic once more. Y/N hoped they had the strength for it.

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[basicsofislam]

THE FEMALE COMPANIONS OF THE PROPHET (PBUH): Part 15

SAFIYYA BINT ABDULMUTTALIB (radhiallahu anha)

During the Era of Bliss, there were some women who did not drop the torch of Islam from their hands, who struggled to sacrifice their lives so that Islam would conquer hearts and who did not fall behind their husbands and sons. One of those Companions who would live in hearts as long as the world existed was Hz. Safiyya, the paternal aunt of the Prophet.

Hz. Safiyya took care of her nephew, the Prophet, with the compassion of a mother, when she was very young and did not hesitate to make sacrifices so as not to make him feel that he was motherless.

She loved her nephew very much. She guessed that she would have a high rank among people in the future and looked forward to seeing those days.

Years passed and her beloved nephew was given the duty of prophethood.

He called people to Islam. Hz. Safiyya did not hesitate to believe; she became one of the first Muslims. After that, she increased her material and spiritual support for him. She worked very hard to spread Islam.

However, it is irony of fate that her brother, Abu Lahab, was one of the leaders of the enemies of her beloved nephew.

Abu Lahab took pleasure in torturing and agonizing the Muslims, primarily the Prophet. Hz. Safiyya was very sorry for this unfair treatment of her brother; she could not bear it.

Once, she heard that Abu Lahab hurt the Messenger of Allah. She went to Abu Lahab and warned him harshly:

“Does it fit you to leave your nephew and his religion helpless? The scholars of the People of the Book say that a prophet will come from the descendants of Abdulmuttalib. That prophet is our nephew Muhammad.”

However, Abu Lahab did not have the eyes that could see what was right and true. His heart was occupied by fury and hatred. He answered the warning of her sister with the following sentence reflecting the state of women in the Era of Ignorance:

“The words of women are a hindrance for men.”

Realizing that it was impossible to persuade Abu Lahab, Hz. Safiyya left his house sadly.

Hz. Safiyya could not persuade her brother to help the Messenger of Allah but she did her best to bring up her son Zubayr as a mujahid for the Messenger of Allah. She was a disciplined mother. She sometimes beat her son slightly. When she was asked why she beat him, she said,

“I am beating him to train him because he will command armies in the future.”

Indeed, Hz. Zubayr, who was brought up and trained by his mother, became a heroic mujahid. The Prophet praised him by saying,

“Every prophet has a disciple and assistant. My assistant is Zubayr.”

He also gave the glad tiding that Zubayr was a person of Paradise.

Thus, Hz. Safiyya was honored to be the mother of one of the 10 Companions who were given the glad tiding while they were alive that they would be in Paradise.

When the Prophet migrated from Makkah to Madinah, his beloved aunt did not leave him alone.

She migrated to Madinah with her son Zubayr. Thus, she also had the privilege of migrating in the way of Allah.

Hz. Safiyya did not hesitate to risk her life for the sake of Allah and His messenger.

She became the first Muslim woman to kill an unbeliever in the history of Islam. The incident took place during the Battle of Uhud.

When the Prophet left for the Battle of Uhud, he placed the women, girls, and boys in the house of Hz. Hassan. The Prophet did not take Hz. Hassan to Uhud because he was too old and ill; so, he stayed at home.

While the mujahids were fighting at Uhud with their swords, a Jewish man wanted to make use of this situation and approached the house that was full of women and children slyly. His aim was to martyr defenseless people and to become a hero. Hz. Safiyya narrates the incident as follows:

“We had no contact with the Messenger of Allah. Besides, the Messenger of Allah and the Companions were not in a position to come to help us. When I saw that a Jew was walking around the house, I went over to Hassan and told him about the situation. I asked him to kill the Jew. Hz. Hassan was both old and ill. He said, ‘O daughter of Abdulmuttalib! May Allah be pleased with you! You know that I am not strong enough to do it.’ Then, it was my duty to do it. I did not have a weapon. I took a big piece of wood. I went out slowly. I hit the man with the wood on his back. He fell down. Then, I hit him until he died.”

After preventing such a big danger, Hz. Safiyya went up to a high place and started to watch the battlefield. She felt worried. She was scared that the ferocious Muslims would harm her beloved nephew. Meanwhile, the news that “the Muslims were defeated” came as a shock. Hz. Safiyya could not wait any longer. She went to Uhud with some women. She asked the first mujahid she saw about the health of the Messenger of Allah. She found out that the Messenger of Allah was alive but that her brother Hamza was martyred. She wanted to see the dead body of Hz. Hamza. When the Prophet (pbuh) saw that she was coming, he told her son Zubayr, “Tell your mother to go back. She should not see the dead body of her brother.” Hz. Zubayr met her mother and asked her to go back. He said the Messenger of Allah wanted her to do so. However, Hz. Safiyya wanted to see the dead body of her brother. She said to her son showing reliance on Allah and patience,

“If you want me to go back lest I should see what was done to my brother, I know that my brother was mutilated. My brother was killed and mutilated in the way of Allah. Is there a greater rank than this? We are ready to suffer more in the way of Allah. I am determined to show patience. I hope to get the reward of it only from Allah.”

Hz. Zubayr was astonished when he saw the resoluteness of his mother, whom he had feared that would faint when she saw the death of her brother. He thanked Allah Almighty for being the son of such a mother. Then, he went to the Messenger of Allah and told him what his mother had said. The Prophet believed that his paternal aunt was sincere. He said, “Then, let her see him.” Then, he put his hand on her chest and prayed for her.

Hz. Safiyya then went to the dead body of Hamza. His body was in pieces. Some of the organs were cut off. Hz. Safiyya was quite calm at this terrifying sight. She did not have any signs of the complaint. Besides, it was impossible for a person like that to oppose qadar. After all, it would be of no use. Then, the only thing she could do was to pray to Allah to elevate his rank. He prayed as follows:

“O, Allah! We are all Your slaves and will return to You. Forgive my brother’s mistakes if he had any!”

This patience and resoluteness of hers rejoiced the Prophet very much. He gave her the following glad tiding, which would strengthen her patience:

“Jibril came to me. He told me that Hamza was written as ‘Hamza is the lion of Allah and His Messenger’ at the abode of angels.”

This news was really pleasing. She wiped her tears with her hand and left.

Hz. Safiyya took care of the Prophet with the compassion of a mother until he died.

She did her best so as not to make him feel that he was motherless. However, it was time for the Messenger of Allah to leave this ephemeral world and to rejoin his Lord. Hz. Safiyya was standing next to the Prophet and crying. The Prophet warned her and her beloved daughter as follows:

“O Fatima bint Muhammad! O Safiyya, the paternal aunt of the Messenger of Allah! Do good deeds that will be accepted by Allah. Do not depend on me because I cannot save you from Allah’s punishment.”

A little while after these words, the Prophet passed away.

Along with her resoluteness and heroism, Hz. Safiyya was also known for her poetry. After the death of the Messenger of Allah, she wrote the following poem:

“O Messenger of Allah! You became our source of hope,/ You did us favors; you did not agonize us./ You protected, guided and taught us,/ Anyone can cry for you today./ O Messenger of Allah! May my mother, maternal aunt, paternal uncle, my maternal uncle and my own self be sacrificed for you!/ If the Lord of people had allowed the Prophet to live with us more,/ we would have been happy but the order of Allah is valid./ Peace and greetings from Allah be upon you./ May Allah be pleased with you and put you in the gardens of Adn (Eden)!”

Hz. Safiyya, who lived 10 years more after the death of the Prophet, died during the caliphate of Hz. Umar in the 20th year of the Migration. She was buried in the Cemetery of Baqi in Madinah.

May Allah be pleased with her! (Tabaqat, 3: 101-103; 8: 41; Usdu'l-Ghaba, 5: 493.)

[piracytheorist]

I finished the Kaguya manga, and it was a pretty nice journey. Though I was a bit wary that the part after the main couple established their relationship would be like a soap opera, it actually greatly surpassed my expectations. It leaned into the characters' strengths and dynamics well, and also developed them. Like, as much as I did skip most of the secondary characters' parts, I did take a peek of some development there and it was nice to see.

I absolutely loved the subversion of the "running to the airport to catch a last goodbye with your beloved" because Kaguya is filthy rich and could just fucking hire a private jet to follow Miyuki all the way to Los Angeles just to say goodbye to him XD

My only complaint is that, as it's usual in mainstream media, heart disease is used just as a fatal diagnosis. As someone who was born with a heart disease and is not expected to live a short life because of it, it's getting kind of tiring to not be able to see a single fictional character have a heart disease and just live their life as much as that hindrance allows it. Like, fuck, we're not here to die young and with an unfulfilled life and leave our loved ones behind. The mangaka could have gone like "Kaguya's mother got sick and died" without specifying what kind of illness it was. At the end of the day, it didn't even matter at all. It's not like it's explored at all - and the flashback of Gan'an desperately telling the doctors she could have his heart to save her could have been replaced with something else so easily - plus it just leaves the possibility of Kaguya and any children she might have (the nine children Miyuki dreams of) developing such a disease at some point. So like, you gonna explore that? No? Okay.

Like, again, it was a good run, and that last part won't really leave a bad taste in my mouth and honestly it's not the worst part of that journey, that OVA will haunt me forever, so I have to say it was an enjoyable time.

[quirkle2]

i am manifesting the urge to have you talk about your blorbos. please talk about the blorbos more please i want to learn more about them!

EEEEEE my head's kinda empty rn so i don't have anything in particular to share but here's some random lil details n tidbits abt the au that i've written down !

they all have certain characteristics that are left behind for a while after they change between hylian and dark world forms. wars' hair gets silvery in some places. briar has his facial markings. lumen's pupils glow a pale blue for a while afterward. fig has swirls and stripes marking his back that fade over time—when in the light, they have a slightly sparkly sheen to them. and legend's, of course, is pink hair (he actually loves how it looks and willingly changes to his dark world form from time to time to "dye" it)

they each Also have a special power that's unique to their forms! i want their forms to be treated more like tools than hindrances, so im giving them,,, boosts, as incentive to use them i guess. im still deciding on some of them, but i know i want wars' ferret form to be able to "see through objects" (i'll ramble about the consequences of That sometime later if people wanna know, don't wanna clog up this post w nonsense)

briar has his first drink with fig during the journey :)

fig still has quite a young mind at times, so it occasionally does ""childish"" things, like randomly making sand castles when they've camped near a beach, or saying "echoooo" when in a cave . bad example but like i said my brain is fried currently GVYAEGV

they r all mentally ill and therefore they all make random noises at each other btw . i make random noises all day so they do too <3 i do what i want

this was a short list im so sorry but im ending this w smth for y'all to consider: when one of them gets badly injured and the wounded is finally treated and resting, the others snuggle up in a pile around them,,,,,, worried . pile warm and comforting

[mmriesoftvat]

The timing is always rotten, always inopportune, always against him. "It's nothing more than a flair up," he'd reassured Herbalist Gui, waving the man off and promising he would rest after these last two deliveries. They'd been feverishly working the entirety of the day getting these medications together for their cherished patients, and poor Gui had not been able to be in the company of his family since the night prior.

It would be fine, then, if Dr. Baizhu sent him home so he could do just that, whilst the pharmacist took on the highly important task of delivering the fruits of their labor. With beautifully wrapped bundles of medicines and herbs in his arms, he'd begun the journey with high hopes that he could make it there and back with no issues... until that familiar, yet incessant sharp pain became more a hindrance than something he could simply brush off and soldier through.

Fingers grip at the spot over his chest, legs slowing to a halt on the incline of stairs he'd climbed many a time in the past. The thought of calling for help sounded more mortifying than collapsing at the top of these stairs--- at least if he did, he needn't explain WHY he looked pale as a ghost, with a terrible tremble to every move he made. There were very, very few who knew of his condition, and none of them were in range to call upon; he loathed the idea of ADDING to that number, but archons above, he needed to get this medicine to the ill and needy.

... no, mayhap... he could call upon one of them... as embarrassing as it would be to do so for such a task as small as this.

"A-Adeptus Xiao?" He's dealt with the Yaksha here and there. Not to an extent that he would claim he's as close to Xiao as he is to Zhongli, but in the rare instances they must rely on each other, everything remains cordial and confidential. It's the only reason he rasps out the older being's name, praying it wouldn't be met with crushing silence, or rejection. "I am not sure if... you can even hear me, but I've desperate need of... of you. Please. I can... repay you in anyway you see fit. The task itself is mundane, but I beg you to help, if not for me, then for my patients here in Liyue who... need this medicine." // offers Xiao a Baizhu

There are very few people who have the privilege of calling his name, and even fewer still who use said privilege. Xiao has grown used to the silence, finding a strange sad sort of comfort in the loneliness. Even Rex Lapis doesn't call on him as much as he used to. In these times, humans really do rely on themselves, rather than the adepti.

Not that it's a bad thing. Xiao is quite pleased to see that they can manage themselves. He's happy to take a break whenever he can. The problem is, there's almost too much free time nowadays. Xiao hates sitting idle, it allows his thoughts to turn dark, and the pain to almost consume him.

Hearing the call now has him snapping to attention. Gaze snapping up in the direction of Liyue harbor, he sets aside the salad Verr Goldet had prepared for him. Xiao isn't hungry to begin with, but now he can trust her to set this aside for later. Just his luck too, she's coming into the room to take the plate.

"I must go," Xiao says to her curtly. Her expression is one of understanding as he fades away from view, traveling away from the Inn and toward the Harbor, seeking the one who'd called for him.

Reappearing, Xiao locks his gaze on the person before him, narrowing his eyes. Not in distaste, and certainly not with any malice. It's a genuine surprise -- Baizhu had never seemed the sort before to need aid. Xiao had never expected the doctor to be the one to call for him, the man always seems so in control of his surroundings, walking with a confident gait.

Of course Baizhu has the privilege though. The man had helped Xiao out a handful of times; Xiao sees no reason not to return the favor.

"I'm here." His voice is less curt than with Verr Goldet, and he takes a step closer. Concern crosses his features as he leans closer to inspect Baizhu. The doctor looks terrible right now, enough so that Xiao is more concerned than perhaps he should be. It'd be too easy to chalk this up to a brief spell, but Xiao isn't great with illness and treating it in general. Admittedly, he's left flustered right now. Who treats a doctor of his ailments? It doesn't take more than a second look for him to realize that Baizhu probably needs assistance walking, so he doesn't need to ask what needs to be done. Xiao's pulling Baizhu back to his feet and pulling one of the doctor's arms around his shoulder. It doesn't matter if Baizhu is taller than him -- Xiao is wrapping an arm around his waist regardless.

"Lean on me," Xiao says, tightening his grip for support. "I'll help you back up the stairs." Xiao isn't skilled in any sort of medicine other than what Baizhu himself gives him, so he doesn't know what the doctor needs to take. Perhaps Qiqi knows.

It's a slow process, but there's no rush, if Baizhu needs it. "Do you wish me to stay and continue to help?" It would be a relief from the crushing loneliness he's too used to. Baizhu isn't terrible company, and his room is never a bad place to spend time, either. Would it hurt for the adeptus to keep vigil while Baizhu rests? It would also prevent Xiao from having to constantly travel back and forth as well. As long as there aren't a steady stream of people coming in and out of the doctor's room, Xiao can stay overnight if needed.

After all, Baizhu and even Qiqi had done it for him.

[cryopathiic-a]

"be honest with me." :)

A simple-minded inconvenience, this one. Through deep shadows reigning the the audience chamber, his polychromatic gaze glowed vividly, bursting with life. Long legs folded in an offensive imitation of spiritual imagery, feigned curiosity having them hunch as they leaned closer.

❝ You want to hear the truth? ❞ The request echoed with saccharine sweetness, an inconspicuous smile that would never betray what had sparked such a forward demand. Dōma was well aware as to why the young boy had barged uninvited in the Audience Chamber, neglecting to request a private council as all cultists knew to do.

He could remember the frozen expression on that boy's face when he had witnessed a sole sunbeam lick the oni's opaline complexion earlier on; he had watched the demon twitch away from its touch before retreating to the temple's bowels upon which he was known to rest during the daylight hours. No one else had thought to question him; he was allergic to the sun after years of self-imposed withdrawal as a means of sensory deprivation that leads one closer to enlightenment. And, on any other day, perhaps Inosuke wouldn't have questioned it either.

But the curious little brat had followed him deeper into the corridors; lurking, watching in secret as the Lord Founder's skin begun to weave the wound shut.

❝ I am so happy to see you have finally decided to embrace my teachings, Inosuke-kun. ❞ The spiritual leader purred, nodding contently; ignoring how heavy the atmosphere was getting, laden with that secret. A slender finger rested against his own temple, prismatic eyes widening somberly; it was an oddly penetrating gaze now that his perpetual smirk had given way to a focused expression.

❝ Open your mind now, and listen; of the hindrances that bind us to this world, there are three most important. ❞ Fingers splayed before the other, a long iridescent claw adorning each one. Colorful beads dangling from his neck were nestled in the crook between his thumb & pointer finger, chiming minutely with each motion. Dōma stared like a hungry owl; but his words were delivered softly, with tranquility found only in a state of deep meditation.

❝ To harbor an ill will towards others and nurture feelings of resentment in one's heart; only by lifting the burden of hate may one be relieved from its poisoning, or it will fester and wilt the body and the soul alike. ❞ His index finger folded first, nails tapping onto each other with the motion.

❝ To worry and be restless; which forbids the mind from accessing a state of concentration and hinders one's practice of mindfulness. ❞ His middle followed. In those moments, the most animated thing about the Prophet were those fingers.

❝ And, to doubt in the abilities of oneself and those of others. ❞ His thumb ultimately met with his ring finger, until the palm was returned to his lap, whereupon it rested casually on his ankle. Instantaneously, his motions regained their fluidity.

❝ I have noticed how often you open your eyes in the middle of mindfulness practice. Have you ever thought that this constant need to check on your surroundings is, in fact, hindering you from understanding them better? ❞

[buckyismybicycle]

Title: every shade of grey has left us colourblind Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers (implied) Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: light angst, returning memories Summary: just a sad little ficlet about Bucky's POV

I was going to write some kink for @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer: "Red", but then it turned sad???

Why do I remember?

I don’t always get to see it, but the world exists out there, blank and empty, both loud and silent at the same time.

I exist in Black. Blank and empty, just in a different way.

They say that I am needed, that my work has been a gift to humanity. I knew what a gift was — there’s a memory there of soft laughter and the smell of pine needles. The warmth of a flame.

I thought I knew what humanity was, too, but they say I am wrong. I am always wrong.

And now my black bleeds into the world’s white because they command it. They want to watch the streets soaked in blood, they want the world to set itself on fire, they want the sky to break open.

The fact of the matter is: black bleeds into white, it’s simply Grey. It is the colour of death, which I bring everywhere I go. It is the colour of ash, which I tend to leave behind. But it is also the colour of your skin when you — when one falls ill. Sallow, sunken skin that stretches with each cough and pink cheeks in the aftermath. Some days you would stay so ashen, so pale, your mother would cry for you. Until one day, she was just as Grey. The skies were dull that day, when you put her in the ground — when you laid her to rest underneath a tombstone as grey as the sky above.

Grey is too peaceful. It is soft, quiet mourning.

What they want is Red. What they want is violence — a fight, blood, bullets and fists, blood, red. Blood.

I don’t want the same Red. The red I remember falls in waves around a porcelain face, brushing against pale shoulders. I called her sparrow — my red sparrow, whose wings were so delicate in my arms that I knew I had to make her strong. Stronger than the others, so that one day she might fly free.

Instead, I shot her. I killed my precious sparrow because they demanded it.

This is why I am Black. There is no light inside me, no room for the other colours, only shadows and sorrow. Only the black hole in my mind, swallowing everything into nothing.

Could I ever be empty of this poison that lives inside me? Could I ever drain this black ichor from my veins and make room for something anew?

Could I become the White I wish to be – a blank slate, recrystallizing into an immaculate stretch of marble to be sought after? I remember, once upon a time, when someone made me feel durable and timeless. Beautiful.

Or would I simply become the clouds above that turn to storms, or a blizzard that obscure your vision? A hindrance.

Even snow cannot stay white around me; I remember the streak of blood upon the powdery ground as I was carried away, further and further away from you. The white was fitting then, the terror I felt as I fell, the emptiness I felt as the train carried on with you on board.

Blackness found me long before I became… This. When I woke, the first snowflake that hit my cheeks reminded me of your tears and when I opened my eyes, I only saw blue above me.

“Bucky?” You used to wake before me. Staring down at me with sapphire eyes while the pinks and oranges of the early morning illuminated your face. I remember.

I remember you, the man on the bridge. I remember this colour.

Yes. Of all the colours I have lived and seen, the blue of your eyes was always my favourite.

[krbysreed]

about to be super self-indulgent and make it so that kirby & i are actually engaged by halloween, 2023. she has a couple of rings that i definitely gifted her but having that extra meaning + knowing/being with each other for years prior makes so much sense. the date would have to be 12-12-22 since that was the day i knew that i was in love with her (IRL) and i love double meaning. i love sentimentality.

as for how it started. it's very murky. we still don't know what happened after she survived so i'm gonna say they were absent a lot from school and didn't socialise as much but i always made an effort. not too overbearing since that it isn't too much like me anyway but. just enough to know that i care. then senior prom comes around and she doesn't wanna go so we have an "anti-prom" which is a spin on their "anti-party" from the night of the stab-a-thon/everything happening. a lot more about how she suggested i tag along with her to her house for it than a reminder of how horrific it all was for her. so we fuck around the town, do anything but think about things ... until it gets a little intimate and we're both left stunned because it's not supposed to happen. she's not supposed to be with someone That Way so prematurely and i'm not supposed to be encouraging it. the atmosphere isn't weird afterwards because it wasn't necessarily a bad thing but it's certainly. Different.

that's why i think a decent amount of time between graduation in 2012 and reconnecting around 2016/17/18 would be good. it's not fresh, it's not going to be a hindrance. we just think about how good we were as friends even if we weren't incredibly close. so, no matter what year it is, everything progresses naturally. the space makes us appreciate each other even more. it does get rather emotionally jarring as my headspace and general "wow, i really haven't achieved anything since high school" line of thinking is worse than ever but. they help with that. this is why i love her so much; she's so non-judgemental and empathetic. they don't care about that, they just care about what it's doing to me.

this sounds like romanticisation and it is a little bit but not because i think it's ironically beautiful — because it isn't. mental illness is consuming & deadly which is why even the littlest bit of support/comfort matters. and it does bring her & i closer together because she understands the feeling of helplessness & anger also. we work so well together because we're stronger as a unit. going from friends to acquaintances to friends again to best friends to lovers shows that were willingly to put in the time for each other. for people like us how have been tested one too many times by life, that speaks volumes.