#and you act like he has bestowed heaven

[wri0thesley]

neuvillette face sitting enthusiast i think btw

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 11)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

“Adam, for your transgression, you will be dealt with accordingly. For now, you are dismissed.” 

Adam’s voice and demeanor had become so grating to you that you actively blocked out the bitching that followed. You weren’t sure if, when he’d finally stopped having a foul-mouthed tantrum, a lot of time had passed or not. 

It didn’t matter when you were blessed with near silence at last. A slip of harsh gold out of the corner of your eye led you to believe that Adam’s lackey had followed him out. 

“Emily, please follow.”

“But Sera…” 

“No harm will come to her here. She just needs time.”

There was no need to look up, as the fluttering of Emily’s wings were now telltale in spite of how little you’d known her. 

“Go on.” 

You hadn’t seen her go, but it was like all the energy in the air had been sucked out as she left you behind. In her stead was a still, oppressive atmosphere where anxiety lingered to crawl up your spine the longer you sat in it. 

Sera was staring down at you. 

“Why…” Your voice was hoarse, even if you hadn’t been screaming or sobbing as you wanted to. 

Swallowing back the thickness that had built in your throat physically hurt. An errant thought that it shouldn’t (nothing should hurt anymore) passed you by. 

“Why am I here?” You looked up, staring back at Sera. 

The Angel considered you for a long moment. 

“Your place here has been ordained by the Father, a privilege bestowed upon you for your act of service.” 

The words from her lovely mouth didn’t make sense for so long that you almost asked the Seraphim to repeat herself. Your eyes narrowed as your gaze turned roundabout, as if whatever could make sense of this was somewhere in your surroundings. 

“I… Wait, I’d have thought that…” Head shaking, you implored Sera again with your eyes. “What service?”

“You delivered upon the world Christ’s opposing force through your union with —” Here, you saw Sera’s long throat flex with the effort of swallowing.

“Lucifer.” You finished, watching and confirming as Sera’s frame twitched that just the mention of the Devil made this powerful force uncomfortable. 

It was odd, but didn’t take away the pain that just mentioning his name brought. You felt as if a great gaping hole had been punched through your chest, taking with it all your vital organs and the power of your lungs.

Impressions of his anguished face and the sound of Charlotte crying were permanently etched in your mind. You bit down on your tongue, lest you scream your grief. 

It felt like they had died and not you. 

“I’ll never see them again.” Your head fell into your hands as you were overcome. “I barely got to hold my own baby.”

Sera sighed deeply, inching toward the War Table adjacent to you both. 

“I understand that leaving people behind can be painful.” Her great arms reached over the table, motioning until light rose from the board and took on fantastical shapes. “But time heals all.” 

Instead of comfort, her wisdom made you sniffle. You rubbed your eyes like a child to prevent the steady rise of tears threatening to escape. 

Through the blur, you saw Sera smile wanly. “You may feel grateful with time. Staying any longer could have led you further astray.” 

That made you pause between shuddering sobs. 

Fuck, you’d been sobbing on the floor of heaven.

Fucking Heaven. 

“W-what?” You asked finally.

Sera’s idle hands continued to create new sources of light and shape. You rose from the floor of cumulus and nimbus on jelly legs and walked toward her, for lack of anything else to do. 

A perfect sphere rose above the table, with little pinpricks of light surrounding it. It could’ve been anything but you had the sense to imagine it was a depiction of Earth. 

“Had you stayed mortal and lived another 10, 20, perhaps 30 years, you could have become susceptible to the enemy’s mindset.” Sera said. “It’s not unthinkable when human beings are often led by their hearts, even if it goes against their best interest.”

Your heart was jabbed with indignation at that.

“Acts of Service can become Acts of Sacrifice if one veers off the path.” She gently swirled around the Earth with one hand, and it fell into a tilt naturally before rotating among the stars. 

Sera eyed you from her peripheral as you stood beside her to watch. “You might’ve grown attached and… denied yourself.” 

“Hold on, please — just…” You closed your eyes after several moments.  “I’m here, in Heaven, because Lucifer asked that I be let up here when I died?” 

“That is correct.” Sera guided the stars in a variety of paths. 

“And you agreed because having his baby was actually a good thing?” You asked. “But how? Why would God want that to happen if the Devil is his enemy?”

“Life is all about balance.” The celestial took on the role of teacher naturally. “Light needs darkness to exist. This is how it has been and will always be, since He created the Heavens and the Earth.”

“Lucifer has gone on too long without an heir - Hell cannot be unmanned should anything happen to its King. To ensure that this would never come to pass, He agreed to certain terms, which have been abided by — despite Lucifer’s constant revisions.”

At that, the Seraphim looked borderline petulant. Her disapproval was clear in the way the many eyes that decorated her wingspan, hair and crown-like halo shrunk into slivered crescents.

“It’s been centuries since he was ordered to conceive a child. Out of Love, the Father bestowed an exorbitant amount of time on him to make it happen. Once you were found and the contract was signed, your place in Heaven was guaranteed as stipulated.” She halted her recital to spare a glance your way.

“His ways can be opaque, but they are always meant to take us in the right direction.” Sera offered after a lull, to dispel the dumbfounded look on your face. You could see the way her lips pursed, as if daring to question that explanation was an affront to her existence. As if what she’d just told you didn’t change your perception so thoroughly that your head was spinning.

Self-preservation no longer being a factor, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, ‘God works in mysterious ways’.” You mocked. “People say that when they don’t know what to say. But you actually work under God, don’t you??” 

“That is a crude way to describe my role here.” Sera responded with reproach. 

“But essentially correct.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You take orders from Him, clearly.”

The Seraphim’s manicured nails pierced through the infinitely shifting stars, fingers curling into a claw as the line of her mouth grew severe. Her brow downturned as she faced you, irritated. 

“Just like Lucifer took orders from Him, I bet.” The pieces were slotting into place. “Until he… until he… did exactly what he was supposed to.” 

You laughed with disbelief at the revelation, hands coming up to grab at your thankfully unchanged hair. The starlight before you began to dim, falling back into the passive marble of the war table. Sera pivoted rather abruptly, a touch of disquiet in her fractured facade as she took in your dysfunction. 

Her gaze became shifty, and you caught it, but it was the least of your concerns. You were in the middle of a manic breakdown for the second time in less than an hour. 

Lucifer didn’t like to talk about Heaven — that was evident from his stuttering when he first revealed himself to you. So, whether it was out of the goodness of your heart or built-in doormat passivity, you hadn’t discussed the place. Truthfully, you’d thought very little of it as a place and more as a concept, even when the Devil came knocking on your door in flesh and blood. 

It was an uphill battle to calm yourself. You closed your mouth to stop the laughing and coughed at the tickle to your throat. You’d never been good at breathing through your nose. Arms slid down to clutch at your stomach and center yourself, frame slowly easing out of the hyperventilation.  

“So… God damned his own son to Hell and made him into Heaven’s Big Bad for the sake of balance… And he wanted that Big Bad to have a child like He Himself did, also for the sake of balance…” 

‘And Lucifer agreed as long as you got to go to eternal paradise…’

Your summation was stated lifelessly, a knife’s edge away from sarcastic. The big secret to Life was out: it was all a fun little show that God put on for himself to stave off boredom. Even those he held closest weren’t safe from it. 

“An-nd you’ve never ever questioned this?” You asked faintly, a crooked smile of disbelief on your face. “Ever?”

A breeze blew back the hair that had fallen into your face.

Sera was suddenly so much closer in proximity, and you flinched back at the power exuding from her like an aura. 

“We do not question the Father.” The Seraphim’s glower betrayed her true feelings toward you. Yet, instead of continuing to back away from the hostility, you forced yourself to stand in place as best you could. 

It gave you whiplash when Sera’s pinched face relaxed. She straightened up with another deep, deep sigh. The danger that felt like static electricity dissipated from your skin, but you held onto the edge of the war table regardless. 

The light show had gone off as quickly as it was turned on. You felt its loss of warmth as sharply as you’d felt Emily’s. 

“Lucifer was unable to fully grasp the Great Purpose.” Sera was imposing as she straightened to her fully height and towered above you once again. “He questioned everything, and for it he Fell.” 

“And I would suggest,” The Seraphim glared at you as if you were an insect she wanted to crush. “that you do not emulate his sin. For the sake of your immortal soul.” 

***

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[pennyellee]

CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

[aziraphales-library]

do you happen to know any fics with fem dressing aziraphale, but hes still male? dont get me wrong i love ineffable wives, and fem aziraphale but im dying to see aziraphale in fem clothing as male presenting in a fic!! :))

Here are some fics with fem he/him Aziraphale...

In The Eye Of The Beholder by Puerinrotis (G)

Aziraphale didn’t like presenting as a woman. He hadn’t done it in a hundred years, at least, and he would’ve been content to never do it again. Yet, when Crowley came to him, saying that he got an invite to Wimbledon and he needed a lady to bring along, the angel agreed to go.

Four Times Crowley Went Too Far and One Time Aziraphale Went Too Far by Mitch_D_Punk (T)

Throughout all of human history, the rogue Demon and not so good Angel kept running into each other. No matter where they were, the other always seemed to be there. This is just a fluffy four + one of extra scenarios through out human history with Aziraphale and Crowley just generally making a mess of things and enjoying human life.

The Serpent and the Lady by summerofspock (T)

Aziraphale was thankful Crowley was nowhere to be seen. He would never let Aziraphale live this down. Bestowing a kiss upon the winner of a tourney? Crowley would surely mock him for years to come.

An Arrangement of Convenience by Blue_Sparkle (E)

Aziraphale works to purchase a bookshop space, but currently being a woman-shaped creature has its drawbacks when faced with rude property owners. The most obvious solution is to get Crowley to act as his husband and deal with all that nonsense, of course.

Miss Cosmos Beauty Pageant - The Winner Takes it All by DreamsOfAlexandria (T)

“It was all for the greater good,” adds Gabriel. “I really don’t know what the two of you like about Earth so much, but I think we ALL can agree that we do not want to fight another war. Right, sunshine?” Aziraphale nods weakly and Crowley slowly sits down again, still looking furious. The room is silent for a moment. “So,” Crowley finally asks, “What is the Great Plan?” “Oh, it’s quite clever. The two of you will enter the Miss Cosmos Beauty Pageant, make it to the final round and a jury of humans will announce a winner. The winning side get’s to rule over Earth and Heaven and Hell both will acknowledge the outcome. There will be no war for the rest of eternity.” Gabriel smiles cheerfully at Aziraphale and Crowley. “Right, good one,” Crowley snorts. “So, what’s the real plan?”

Time Flies (When You're Having Fun) by Mussimm (E)

Versailles, 1769 - Aziraphale has a blessing to perform at a masquerade ball and it's important that he gets this one right. So important, in fact, that he can't seem to leave until he does. But with a fancy dress, an attentive demon and an endless supply of champagne, it's a little challenging to stay on mission.

- Mod D

[hazbin-loony-bin]

You know the Angel Sir Pentious thing has SUCH great potential for angst. Cherri has acted as a corruptive influence for Angel Dust, not respecting his desire to change: therefore, she could similarly jeopardize Pent. Or perhaps he’s entirely committed to Heaven after seeing how great it is and bonding with everyone there. Cherri however is perfectly comfortable in Hell: she gets to do all the drugs she wants and play ascended arsonist and there’s no pesky police like in the world of the living.

sure there’s also this burning sensation that all sinners experience but she’s kinda numbed to it by now and she was running from dwelling on pain even when she was alive

So Pentious is hurt, like so many before him, of an addict choosing their drugs over their significant other.

AD doesn’t know what to do exactly- he always hated people like Vaggie giving him grief and had to grow into the decision to quit himself, so he tries to respect Cherri’s ‘autonomy’ that way, but also is upset that she and he would be separated the same way if he manages redemption, and is also ofc feeling for Pent since they’d grown a little closer due to Charlie’s efforts and Angel was the one who tried to set them up.

Do people KNOW Pent is now in Heaven? Does Sera try to hide it? Does Emily help them have secret rendezvous? Is that even possible?

If it isn’t?

If they can only communicate by go-between? (or perhaps holograms like Adam uses, for slightly less angst but still ‘I can’t touch you’)

If it’s public, tho

perhaps Cherri does want to reform, but she simply, as Alastor predicted for most sinners, perpetually falls back down the addiction hole.

Pentious considers giving up Heaven for her- she tells him don’t even think about it.

Charlie is a mess- she doesn’t necessarily want to tell Pentious what to do, but her now-poster-child possibly giving up his graciously bestowed and, to her mind, hard-won position is absolutely driving her insane. What if people lose heart if he backs out? Why would he give up something so good on someone he barely knows?

She doesn’t understand it personally NOR politically.

perhaps she does mellow on one of the angles (understanding him) but not the other (“you’re a landmark case” “you have eternity” “surely you can put this off at the very least”)

Emily chats with Pent and discusses how many angels don’t have partners and that’s more of a norm than in Hell and Earth. When you’re emotionally whole, you just aren’t as driven to depend so desperately on other people.

Pentious fears that that means losing a part of himself and, even though it’s a mistaken takeaway and it’s not the point, has an identity crisis just the same.

Culture shock affects the entire gang as they hear how different everything possible is in Heaven. Some of them are happy for him, some of them are jealous.

Alastor has a grand old time gleefully exploiting that angst and watching carefully for any deep enough despair to make deals.

He’s so far removed from the possibility himself + aroace that any kind of separation he identifies with not one bit

until it seems that Rosie-

[lucivinyl]

in plain sight

pairing : satan x gn!reader

summary : satan has been confessing to you in a dead language.

note : dialogues spoken in the language are in italics!

Satan had been learning a dead language.

It all started because of this one book he wanted to read that had been written in said language. To be fair, there were a number of translations available, but he didn't believe that any of them could do it justice. It was an immense compilation of love stories the author had come across in his lifetime, written five millennia ago, and it was almost as thick as his head. 

Learning a language was nothing new to Satan, but this one was particularly hard to tackle, because not even Lucifer had heard of it before, which meant that he didn't really have a partner to practice with.

But he found a way eventually.

It was just another day in the house, with the two of you spending the afternoon away in the library. You were working on something assigned by Diavolo while he buried his head in the old, worn pages. The silence was broken when a chuckle escaped him. He'd read a particularly sweet line.

"What is it?" You looked up from your notes for a split second, a small smile on your lips.

"This line here: You're the brief caress of the wind. You're the blinding sun in the sky, lighting up my life. You're the raging… " He trailed off at the foreign word and hastily flipped the dictionary. "Storm. You're the raging storm, and I'm flooded by your waves. "

You stared at him a bit longer than necessary before laughing, "You know I can't understand any of that, right?"

"Oh, right," he clicked his tongue. "It translates to, you're the brief caress of the wind. You're the blinding sun in the sky, lighting up my life…"

By the time he finished reading out loud, his face was already a crimson mess. For some reason, knowing that you could actually understand the sweet words that were coming out of his lips made him incredibly nervous, even though those words weren't technically directed at you. He wished they were though, because he doubted that he'd ever come up with something as beautiful.

"That's really well-written," you said, paying no mind to his red cheeks as you leaned in. "Are there more?"

"A lot more, actually." He flipped the pages mindlessly. "This author had such a way with words. Oh, here's one. Do you know that I love you ?"

"And what does that mean?"

"Diavolo's work awaits." He smirked, and you threw him a playful glare.

Of course he wasn't going to tell you what it actually meant. He wasn't ready for that yet. But this new discovery was like a gift bestowed upon him by the highest heavens. It basically gave him the power to say whatever he wanted, which meant that…

… he was going to abuse it.

–

Satan had to admit that he was getting a real kick out of this situation.

For the past week, he'd been sneakily commenting on anything and everything in the language only he could understand, a dictionary in hand and a proud smile on his face, and today was no exception. 

"Satan, look at me when I'm talking to you," Lucifer ordered with a scowl, looking down at the demon who was flipping through his book idly. You stole a glance at the two of them before returning to your phone, pretending to be invisible.

" I'm not looking at you and your receding hairline ," the grin that came with the insult was hard to conceal. Lucifer unfolded his arms and plucked the book out of Satan's hand.

" Asshole !"

"I'm going to figure out what you're saying to my face, and then you'll be up on the ceiling for a whole week."

"What if I'm actually saying something nice? Something like, stop frowning or those wrinkles will become permanent ?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Do you really think I can't tell from your tone?"

There he went again, acting like he knew everything. Satan was about to throw out some foul words from the ancient age when Belphie yelled from the other room. "Luciferrrrrr!"

"What is it now?" Lucifer sighed and threw the book onto the space next to Satan before walking away. "Don't think that I'm done with you."

The two of you looked at each other with excitement and turned to watch him head for the door. Every step he took was a heavy thump against the floorboard, every second agonizingly prolonged. With anticipation, your eyes widened simultaneously as he crossed the threshold–

BOOM ! Satan's carefully concealed spell went off, and a glitter bomb exploded right on top of the dark-haired demon, staining him with colorful sparkles from head to toes. You screamed out in victory and went for a high-five with Satan that left your palms red and stinging. Belphie's cheer could be heard from a distance. It was a rare win for the Anti-Lucifer League.

After your ecstasy'd died down, the two of you looked to Lucifer, who was still frozen in his spot. His shoulders seemed to be trembling. 

With slow deliberation, he turned on his heels. The moment your eyes met, a chill ran down your spine. The air around you seemed to have dropped by ten degrees, and you felt yourself shrinking under the looming rage of the firstborn.

"You have five seconds to run. Five,"

It was a cruel trick-- letting you flee, even though there was no way you could actually escape him. You could run as much as you wanted, but you couldn't hide. He was giving you hope and then snatching it away from you.

"Four,"

"Let's go!" Satan grabbed your hand and pulled you up with ease, darting for the other door in the room. You ran like your life was on the line– no, your life was in fact on the line, but for now, you were just happy that the prank actually worked.

"Threetwoone."

"Shit!" You could hear Lucifer's wings flapping from corridors away, catching up with terrifying speed. Satan stopped abruptly in his tracks. 

"What are you doing– woah!" 

Your heart leaped in your chest as he hoisted you up in his arms, bridal-style. "Hold on tight!" He shouted before breaking into another sprint. Without having to drag you, he was significantly faster, adrenaline pumping through his veins like he'd never run out of it. And all the while, he was laughing like a little kid.

He was only brave enough to stop outside the house, where Lucifer couldn't be heard anymore. He put you down promptly and doubled over. "That was," he panted. "That was–" his throat felt like the Sahara desert, parched and rough like sandpaper.

"Fun?" 

He nodded. You took the word right out of his mouth.

It was a whole five minutes before he could calm down. You laughed and slumped to the ground next to him. 

"We're not gonna get out of this one, are we?" You said.

"Definitely not." 

"Do you think he'll starve us?"

"I'd be surprised if he doesn't."

"Yea."

You sat in silence for a while, feeling a moment of tranquility even though a raging demon was probably upending the whole house just to look for you. When you looked at Satan, his eyes were already on you.

"What?" Your lips curled. 

" You make me so happy ," he said, the smile giving way to a serious expression. " I feel like the happiest demon alive when I'm with you ."

There was a moment of suspended silence as you watched his face, then you raised your brow, "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," he smiled bitterly. His hand reached for your hair and gave it a brief ruffle before he stopped himself. 

He wanted to tell you directly how he felt, but he would need some more time to build up his courage.

–

"Those bastards!" Satan hissed as he stormed into your room, throwing the first aid kit onto the table. The blow it made would've startled you had you been unaware of his arrival. One by one, he slammed the bandages and bottles against the wood like he had a vendetta against it. You could see that his demon form was already creeping up on him, threatening to burst out.  "Those inconsiderate, brainless bastards–"

"Satan," you called out. He stilled, as if he'd just been woken up, and looked down at the tools in his hands. He couldn't face you for a second, mortified at the idea of you looking at him with disappointment, or worse, fear.

"Satan?" You called again, and he swiveled around. You had a comforting smile on your lips, one that always lit up the room you were in. You gestured at the spot next to you, and he complied.

"Show me your hand." He said, and made sure to handle it with gentleness.

The cut on the back of your hand had already stopped bleeding, but it didn't look like it was going to heal any time soon. With a shake of his head, he grabbed the ointment and scooped it out with his finger.

Mammon and Asmodeus had suggested a pillow fight, and everyone was on board at first, except that it soon turned into anything but a pillow fight. There were books and shoes flying in the air, and when Levi launched the bunch of flowers into Beel's plate, the latter was so furious that he swung the plate away, only for it to head directly at you. Had you not reacted in time, it would've got you square in the face.

Not that cutting your hand was any better.

Rage shimmered under his skin just at the memory of your pained hiss. If it hadn't been for you, he would've gone into a real fight with his brothers. 

As if noticing the cold, steely look on his face, you leaned into his line of sight. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that." He muttered.

"Well, you look more shaken than I am."

"I was scared, okay?" He frowned at you before resuming his work. 

"I know. I just don't want you to get riled up because of me. It's a small cut anyway."

"You were on the brink of tears."

"Wounds hurt."

"If it hurts, it's not a small–"

"Alright, alright," you said, chuckles filling in the gaps in your words. "Sorry for worrying you."

He stayed quiet, his sole attention focused on getting the ointment evenly spread around your wound. After it's done, he reached for the roll of bandage and started wrapping it around your hand, ensuring that it was neither too loose nor too tight.

"You're good at this."

"I read my first aid manuals."

"Of course you do." You flexed your hand after he's done. "See? It's good as new. Don't take it out on your brothers, alright?"

"Well, it's hard not to." He got up to put back the items.

"Mm. Why?"

"Because–" he trailed off, not a single word willing to come out of his hanging mouth. "Because I… damnit. Because I care about you, and seeing you get hurt hurts me too. Is that so hard to see?"

He must've sounded frustrated by the end, because you caught his hand and pulled him toward you, even though he couldn't face you with his face flooded with blood. 

"I hope you weren't cussing me out," 

He scoffed. As if he would ever do that. 

Then you brought his hand closer to your face, and his hope flew up as it inched towards your lips, but you stopped right before his they could kiss his knuckles.

"Thank you for caring about me, Satan."

He swore, there were times when he thought that you could understand him regardless of the language he was speaking in. It was both a warm and terrifying thought.

–

Cats and you. These were the only two things Satan needed to stay alive. And right now, he had both. 

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart!" You cooed as the black cat bumped his head against your face, trying to squeeze himself into your arms, which were already full of other kittens. 

You were a cat magnet. The moment you stepped into the cat cafe, the little fluffballs were already swarming toward you, so excited that you couldn't even move your feet. If it had been any other, Satan would've felt jealous. After all, he was the regular of this cafe, and he was the one who had previously met these cats! How was it that they would abandon him for someone they'd never met before?

Well, it was you, so perhaps it was just your natural charisma at work here. And to think that he'd stayed up all night imagining how he would act like a gentleman and share his cats were you to be neglected... he hid his blush behind the teacup.

"That's Mr. Cow," he said after composing himself.

"What? Him?" You nudged at the same black cat, and he nodded. "That's a… unique name."

"To be fair, I have no idea how they were named. The owner probably just spinned a wheel of random words–"

"We dedicated time and consideration to each and every cat during the naming process!" The owner yelled from behind the counter.

"Sure you did." Satan retorted, then waited for your reaction. He was obvious, sure, but his goal was always just to make you laugh, which you did. He was satisfied.

Leaning back in the fluffy chair, he closed his eyes and drank in the moment. Just him, you, and cats. What a perfect day. The air smelled like freshly made tea and tooth-rotting pastries, with the purring of cats and your voice as the cherry on top. What's more, his brothers were nowhere to be seen. They would never find the two of you here. There was nothing that could ruin this perfect moment, and nothing that could top it.

"Are you sad?"

His eyes shot open. "What?"

"Are you sad because the cats aren't giving you attention?" You teased.

"That's nonsense. The cats here have mood swings quite frequently. It just so happens that they are shy around me today."

"Just admit that you're losing your charm!" The owner yelled again.

"Hey!" 

The peal of laughter coming out of you was like honey to his ears. "Lucky for you, I don't mind sharing. Come on," you moved to one side of your king-sized seat. "Come on. What are you waiting for?"

"Fine." Satan mumbled and walked over, squeezing himself into the space. It might've looked real big at first, but when there was already a person and a bunch of cats occupying it, it suddenly felt crammed. 

"Here you go," you placed Thyme– white cat with bright green eyes– onto his lap. 

"Just one?" 

"Now you want more?" You shook your head, and moved Mr. Cow into his outstretched arms. His heart melted as they curled in his embrace, looking for a comfortable position.

He really should take the opportunity to play with the cats while they were still giving him attention, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from you. Your hands were busy scratching their heads, an innocent smile was spreading across your cheeks, and you were just glowing, so purely happy, and–

"I can never get tired of looking at you."

Your head whipped towards him, and he panicked internally. Did he just say that outloud? Was that in dead language? Why did he have to blurt out like that? What–

"Mm?"

He exhaled in relief. So you couldn't understand after all. 

"I hope that was something nice." You gave him a side glance.

"They're always nice when they're about you."

And that was the closest thing to a confession that he could say.

–

Satan had made up his mind. He had a plan, he'd done his research, read dozens of romance novels, and wrote a bunch of scripts.

Today was the day he would confess to you. In a way you could understand.

His foot tapped impatiently on the cobblestone as he scanned the leaving crowd, trying to pick you out. Seconds passed, then minutes, then he started to worry that you weren't coming at all.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped a great height in the air, and heard you laughing at his reaction.

"Geez, what were you thinking about?" You walked around him, hands balled inside your pockets. While his head felt light just by seeing you, his chest was suddenly so heavy that he couldn't mutter a word.

"Satan?" You waved your hand in front of his face.

"There's something I have to tell you."

"Okay," you mirrored his solemn expression. Even when you were doing barely anything, you still looked as radiant as ever.

He shook his head. This was not the time to get sidetracked. He had some serious business to do. 

"I've been meaning to tell you," he's taken aback by the slight tremble in his voice. "That I… we've been spending a lot of time together, you know, and I enjoy your company."

You waited.

"I enjoy your company more than I do others'," 

You nodded unsurely. His shoulders slumped.

The scripts he'd prepared were slipping his mind, and so many things were swimming inside it that it felt blank instead. What was all that reading for if he couldn't even elicit a single word of his own?

"This has no reason being so hard," he said.

"Do you want to write it down instead?"

"No, no. I have to say this face-to-face. It's important." He stopped pacing, something that he didn't realize he had been doing. He grabbed your shoulders so he was forced to look into your eyes.

"The truth is, I-" he paused. "I… Ugh! The words are right at the tip of my tongue." He pulled away and buried his face behind his hands. It was embarrassing how he couldn't even be honest about his love. "I just– I love you. Perhaps I just can't say it because I'm scared that you'll reject me, but I love you. I don't know if I'll ever be enough, but all I can give you is my devotion."

He was so caught up in wallowing in his feelings that he missed the way your brows went up. A beat of silence passed, then the next, before you spoke up.

" You'll always be enough for me. "

" I could only –" he stilled. "What?"

You laughed at his reaction. "I said, you'll always be enough for me, Satan ."

"...Have you always known what I was saying?"

"Nope." You said. "Only just now. I told Solomon earlier about how you kept talking in a foreign language, so he concocted a potion that made me fluent in all the languages in the world,"

"But it's a dead language," He said, as if bargaining with reality.

You squinted. "Is it still dead if you're saying it?"

"Okay, that's a good point." Satan sighed, running his fingers through his bangs. The tips of his ears were burning bright red. They looked like they could burn you upon touch. "And you meant what you said? That I'm enough for you ?"

"Of course. And also, I love you too ."

You loved him.

Relief filled his chest, and the grin that broke out on his face was impossible to hide. Without another word, he swept you into his arms with such eagerness that revealed just how long he'd waited for this. You yelped as your feet were lifted off the ground and threw your arms around his neck. He had this fantasy of living in this moment forever.

"Finally," he hid his face in your shoulder, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "My love has been heard."

[serene-sun]

The Emeritus bloodline, and the devils

Chapter 4b of my series 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕱𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕺𝖋 𝕾𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘

TW: mention of dead baby, details of murdur and sacrifice, mention of genitals and rapists

ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

One of the oldest families in history, a bloodline said to have sprouted like a rose bush in the pull of blood under the divine crucifixion. The satanic church, the base of all Emeritus life, was essential to the family.

PaPa Emeritus, an unholy heir whom would soon sit upon the thrown of the beast. An old family, with old beliefs, rituals, traditions and heritage could never be forgotten…rather their message of sin was delivered through touch…or music. When a son is born, he is to reign as papa of the church. He will dedicate his life to his religion and people, and will be given a prime mover to gift the dark lord a new leader. 

Ghouls, devils, demons, which ever word you wish to call them, will be summoned amongst a pentagram to be dragged up form the fiery pits of hell by a mysterious masked mistress who remains anonymous. Devils that grew wild ideals were summoned at the birth of a son, The job of the ghoul is to work for their lord through the Emeritus family. Ghouls are feral and unruly creatures, to prevent the murdur or outrageous acts taking place by these inferno creatures, a bond would be put upon them. This bond is an ancient blood ritual, the papa will sacrifice a number of humans equivalent to the number of ghouls needed. An offering will be burned with the person during the sacrifice to bring upon a trait. For example, pure white rabbits symbolize innocence, charcoal will signal fire and wrath. The death of a virgin is key if you desire a new ghoul, a fresh soul tainted with the black oil of baphomets lair. 

The Emeritus blood is pure and sacred, as it shares half of what blood fills the fallen angel lucifer. Satans blood runs through this bloodline as they continue his work in a world he sees unfit. Creatures such as demons, vampires, strigoi, beasts and other entities share only little of his blood. This placed all Emeritus’s higher than any creature. 

The family has a dominate trait of each sin, every drop of emeritus blood swallows whole any normal traits. Emeritus DNA being much more powerful than an average humans.

With the chance of the lord, a daughter has only been born once, and she remains in exile ever since her mysterious death. 

There are many spirits special to this story, but there is the devil who brings the ghouls out of the pits of hell and into the cold human world.

Ajatar, one of the highest ranking devils.

A tall and curved woman, described only to be perfect. Her long black hair that curls at the end like wispy smoke. It is said that her eyes remain covered as they hold the final rays of heaven from the exile of Lucifer. A golden enchantment, that if you look into, you will be dragged away by hell hounds and locked away forever. Her pale skin is dressed in the finest of jeweled clothes, and a mask that covers her face. Her sword, long and sharp, carved from molten lava, slits the throat of any whom lie. She was created out of broken glass, molded together to kill man. She roams in the night, searching for men who are unworthy of life. Ajatar seduced them, humiliates them, and finishes it with a messy murdur. Some call her the karma god, or the revenge goddess. But most summon her to bring death or destruction upon someone. Often seen roaming the halls of the satanic temple, in her arms a bloodied still-born, skin as white as snow, for which she laments, constantly searching for an able womb to bestow her child upon.Others suggest she is seen slitting the throats of men in the halls, and dragging their nude bodies into the woods to be eaten by wolves. There have even been reports of her slicing the genitals of the filthy men, who fall guilty to rape and assault, and sewing them into clothes for the rich.

Ajater is known to push the lust in women over the precipice 

[quills-of-freedom]

Headcanons (s/o who struggles to orgasm)

It’s easy to write and imagine having multiple orgasms with a partner. But in reality, not many women can actually orgasm with penetrative sex. So, let’s dive in to how these wonderful people would treat that.

Warnings: 18+ Smut NSFW

Eren - Hange - Armin - Jean - Reiner

Eren

Eren makes it his goal to have you reach a climax by his doing. He won’t say this though; he doesn’t want to put any sort of pressure on you.

He acts like it’s not a big deal, reassuring you that you’ll get there with time and patience.

He takes extra care with you, focusing on your clit a lot more than he usually would with anyone else and praising you the entire time.

If you do end up orgasming with him, he’s dripping with sweat from the extra hard work he’s put in - but it doesn’t matter. He has the biggest dumb grin on his face when you’re done.

The first one is always the hardest so after that they just get easier and easier, your perfect s/o the most patient man ever.

Hange

Hange has had so many books on female anatomy and sexual studies sprawled out over her desk. She will find a way to make you reach the heavens with her.

When she learns that a large chunk of a female orgasm has to do with feelings and emotions, she makes it her mission to get you as comfortable around her as possible.

She’ll fart in front of you a lot more and laugh about it, pull weird faces and just really trying to get you to feel at ease around her.

Her laser focus is your clit and G-spot starting you off nice and slow, showering you with praise and affection.

She’s screaming as loud as you when she finally gets you there, her face red and silently patting herself on the back for another job well done.

Armin

Much like Hange, hes in the library studying up on how he can help you - except he’s incognito. Shades. Hat. Long coat. The whole get up while he scans the books on “How to make your lover scream” and “Turn no no, into yes yes!”

Armin is meticulous at remembering your sweet spots and mapping out your body. Out of anyone in this list hell get you there the quickest.

He’ll reassure you it’s fine and it doesn’t matter, he just wants you to feel good.

Your eventual ascension into heaven is earth shattering, you don’t even know what’s happening as he’s doing so many things to your body at once.

He’ll be so happy when you do, telling you he’s so proud of you and that it’ll be easier from here on out.

The entire next day he’s got a huge smile on his face - even when he’s returning those books.

Jean

Jean is a flustered mess at the best of times when it comes to fucking your beautiful self. When you tell him it’s difficult for you to orgasm, like Eren, hell make it his mission.

He will low key go to Armin for advice though. He’s too lazy to sprawl over books himself. But if he really had to, he would.

After Armin’s knowledge has been bestowed upon him, he’ll put it to practice. Making you feel as relaxed and as comfortable as humanly possible.

Bubble bath. Wine. Chocolate. Oysters. He even brought out his softest bed sheets and throws.

After you do cum, he pretty much high fives you when you’re done, raring to go and make you do it again and again. He never wants to not give you this gift of ecstasy.

Reiner

Reiner tries his damned hardest. He’ll fuck you for hours - pouring with sweat but he doesn’t care. He wants his love to feel good.

Reiner gets a little down about it at first but he won’t ever let on that he is. He’ll just have to be patient and understanding.

He just wants to make you happy.

Reiner goes to Jean for advice who just looks at him like he’s speaking a different language. So he goes to Armin.

After Armin’s advice he feels a lot better about it, his confidence beaming and gosh does that show in bed.

He’s ecstatic when you climax around his cock, his eyes wide and jaw slack. He can’t wait to make you cry his name like that over and over again.

[kusagrasskusa]

Hi there! so i have read your request rules and i have no idea if i can find if they are opened or closed but if they’re closed, please do not take this!

Raiden finding his S/O dead after a argument. Not a suicide, just a murder. I’m about to go all out on these details. 😭

So S/O and Raiden got into a argument about his safety and what not and they separate for a few hours (not break up, just avoiding.) He noticed how the house they shared got a bit to quiet. He went to go and find her, but found her dead on the living room floor dead with a tranquilizer (filled with poison) in her neck. I know my request is crappy and probably makes no sense whats so ever. 💔 But if this is not crappy to you, you can write it! But if your request are closed, you don’t have to. Also, no happy endings for NOBODY. 😍

But thats all for my request. Ty for your time!

Ohhh I like this!! Thank you so much for your request! I love it whenever people give me a scenario with details, it makes it easier for me to write and not worry about if the requester will like it 😂❤️ But fr though, happy endings are no bueno… life just isn’t gonna be a happy place, especially if you’re named Y/N 😈 or in this case, Raiden too

Also I found this sexy piece of art from u/all-men-die on r/MortalKombat!! All credit goes to them! And also, Raiden has hair in this hehe.. sorry not sorry 😋❤️

And I’ll update my Request Rules after I post this!

Raiden finding S/O dead after an arguement

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Shinnok had been given a fate worse than death and his blood may fall to Raiden’s hands. He was no longer the thunder god Y/N had married- no, he was someone else entirely. Y/N was a human but it didn’t take a genius to learn of Shinnok’s amulets’ doing to her husband as suddenly his mercy had disappeared overnight a while ago. Ever since then it had been a weight on her shoulders; this was a man who killed those who he believed to be a threat to his ideologies unlike the man who had once advocated to protect Earthrealm at all costs, and murder was only needed in certain cases. A genocide against all his foes was something Y/N couldn’t sleep at night to the thought of. Who had her husband became?

Y/N was biting her lip in thought, leaning over her kitchen counter. Her eyes were blank as she daydreamed, and her focus only broke whenever her husband had suddenly walked in through the front door. It was a little house she lived in near the sky temple that was provided by her dear husband, though now, it almost felt like a prison. “Raiden?” She called out instinctively as she turned her head towards the front door. The lightning god himself and stepped in, removing his conical sedge hat and sighing.

“Hello, dear,” he replied with a tired voice. Y/N was easily the mother type whenever it came towards caring for her husband, and simply hearing that string of tiredness made her anxious. She quickly made her way over to her husband as his hair dropped down and a little tangled, making her frown. “I have something important to discuss with you.” Y/N wrapped her arms around her husband with a feeling of dread in her stomach, but nodded softly.

She knew her husband had something bad to say, but never this.

“Raiden, how could you!” Y/N seethed, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes wide with rage. “Why in the heavens would you be so irrational? Do you ever think about yourself in those moments?”

Raiden’s emotionless stare was enough to tell her he wasn’t at all feeling guilty for this actions. “Shinnok was the greatest threat to Earthrealm. I would have thought you to be more reasonable,” he replied in a serious tone, “had I not put an end to him, you may never know what evils he would bestow upon Earthrealm again.”

Sickening; Y/N felt like vomiting just then. Raiden had come home from torturing Shinnok and then beheading him. Yes, the Elder God was a cruel creature however how could Raiden act on such torture? Whether one agrees that Shinnok deserved it or not must understand the one who enacted on this was someone who would have never done something like this just a little bit before now. “This isn’t you, Raiden,” she hissed, standing up from the couch. “Will you subject anyone who defies you to such torture? A fate worst than death? Had you ever considered the effect of your actions? Had you ever considered the effects on you?”

Zzzz-CRACK the lightning went, appearing from no where. Y/N gasped and fell from her seat. Raiden stood up off of the couch, towering over her. “Y/N, I don’t suppose you are defending him, are you?” Lightening trailed off of his body in a threatening manner, which she would have thought attractive if she wasn’t at the victim of it. Her moment of fear quickly passed as she shot up off the ground. The lightning quickly disappeared as if quickly realized his mistake.

“Raiden, until you are thinking more clearly, I want you away from me. It’s for your own safety, and it seems I must think of my own when I’m around you as well.”

The look in his eyes were obvious that he was sorry. Though the words didn’t come out since he knew the way his wife would get- she wouldn’t accept it until she feels better. He nodded his head and began to walk down the hall and into their shared bedroom, leaving Y/N to look out at him as he walked. She felt a pain in her chest when she watched him leave but… what just happened? Who was that man who had just threatened her just then? It couldn’t have been the same god she fell in love with.

She let out a little gasp as she spun around, having heard the door open. Did Raiden walk around her without her noticing and tried to leave?

No, he had been in the bedroom for at least a few minutes at this point. He laid in their bed, hands on his head, as he processed what was going on. “Dearest, I hope you’ll understand one day,” he mumbled, “but please forgive me. I had stepped out of line and made you feel threatened.” He spoke as if he were praying to her for her forgiveness which he sort of was. Why, she’s the (now) immortal wife of the lightning god. She’s close enough, is she not?

And to a mortal praying to their god, him praying to his dearest wife is something just as dear if not more. He promised eternity’s worth of protection and love yet he had almost broken the first promise. How could he make up for it? As he sensed the amulet’s energy off of him, he sighed, “perhaps it has darkening my judgement… No, this is it. I shall no longer let this evil cloud the better of my mind.” He seethed through his teeth as guilt began to wallow inside it. Dammit, what had he done?

However, the deafening silence as minutes and minutes to half an hour has passed made it a little hard to think. “That is it,” he decided, getting up out of bed, “no more fighting until they call me to it.” He smiled softly, combing his hair with his fingers as he walked out of the bedroom. Actually, during one of his thought processes, he decided to change out of his regular gear and put on a special outfit his dear Y/N made for him during one of his trips. It was soft, warm and had obviously had the perfect loving touch of his wife and so he felt like it would perhaps appease her to see him have it. As he stepped out into the living room, he looked around- no one.

“Y/N?” He called out softly, furrowing his eyebrows. He made his way around the couch, calling out, “Dear, I know I have upset you, but-… Y/N?” He voice was the most unstable anyone had ever heard of the pronounce lord, however whenever he saw his wife laying on her back, wide eyed, and mouth gapped on the floor, he was more distraught than he had ever been in his entire immortal life.

“Y/N!!!” Running to her side, he lifted her head up as his breathing hitched and grew unstable. He felt like he was being choked. Beneath her hair was a tranquilizer filled with a foggy substance, and he yanked out and threw it across the room. His fingers ran over her pulse as he checked, praying- praying the fucking gods above for the sanctity of this situation. “Y/N please! How could i have let this happen?” He cried upon no pulse. He urgently picked her up in his arms and teleported to the SS base where Johnny and Cassie were per usual- and upon his arrival, they were quick to hear of his presence.

Y/N had quickly been taken into their poison control and as Raiden stood by her side and learned there was nothing they could do to being her back, it was so clear to see how the color had drained off of him.

“That is all?” He asked distaughtly, his eyes not even being able to focus on anything. “There is nothing to be done?”

Raiden obviously knew the answers. He had been around and seen it happen for millions of years but this mortal- this woman- was something that had exceeded all his expirences and knowledge together. He never knew he could love someone as much as this woman who now lay lifeless with a bag over her. This is what he remembers warning his brother about before entering Earthrealm. He remembers warning him of the dangers of falling in love or getting too close. Yet in the end, he had tasted the feeling love brings and had felt incredible loss his mind was not capable of comprehending.

Now, he no longer had a reason to care for those who inflict pain on Earthrealm and their inhabitants.

And with how he let his wife die, he no longer cares for himself either.

[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Al-Musawwir— The Fashioner, The Bestower of Forms— on one occasion in the Quran. He is the One who forms and shapes all that exists. Al-Musawwir gave everything its own distinct shape and inclination or desire – despite the great variety of the creation – every single creature is unique!

The Shaper, The Fashioner, The Bestower of Forms

Musawwir comes from the root saad-waw-raa, which points to three main meanings. The first main meaning is to make something incline, lean, or bend, and the second is to form, fashion, sculpt, imagine, or picture something. The third main meaning is to have an inclination or desire towards something.

This root appears 19 times in the Quran in five derived forms. Examples of these forms are wasawwarakum (“and He formed you”), as-soori (“the trumpet”), and sooratin (“form”).

Linguistically, khaaliq, baari’, and musawwir are interrelated in meaning and deal with the aspects of Allah ‘azza wa jall as Creator; all the rest is creation. Al-Musawwir bestows forms and not by way of copying— He is far above that. Al-Musawwir says Be! and it is, with the attributes and the form that He has chosen for it. He does what He wills and creates what He wills in the form that He wills.

Al-Musawwir Himself says: He is Allah, the Creator, the Inventor, the Fashioner; to Him belong the best names. Whatever is in the heavens and earth is exalting Him. And He is the Exalted in Might, the Wise. [Quran, 59:24]

The Relation of Al-Khaaliq, Al-Baari’ and Al-Musawwir

In Surah al-Hashr, Al-Musawwir’ is mentioned after al-Khaaliq (The Creator, The Maker) and al-Baari’ (The Originator). Some scholars have said that in this ayah the attribute of creation refers specifically to Allah’s determination of what He creates, so it comes first.
The name Al-Baarī’ refers to the creative act of bringing about what Allah wills to create. Finally, the name Al-Musawwir (the Fashioner) refers to giving each created thing its particular form. So Allah decrees what He creates, brings it into existence, and specifies its particular, unique form.

Scholars also have differentiated between these three names as follows: Al-Khaaliq is the One Who created from nothing all creatures that exist, according to their decreed qualities. Al-Baari’ is the One Who made man from al-baraa, i.e., clay. Al-Musawwir is the One Who creates various forms and shapes. So al-Khaaliq is a general word, al-Baari’ is more specific and al-Musawwir is even more specific [Kitaab Sharh Asmaa’ Allaah ta’aala al-Husnaa, Dr. Hissah al-Sagheer].

How Can You Live by This Name?

1. Be happy with how al-Musawwir shaped you.
We live in a time of cosmetic surgery; if you don’t like how you look, you can change yourself with a medical procedure. Allah ‘azza wa jall says: He it is who shapes you in the wombs as He pleases. There is no god but He, the Mighty, the Wise. [Quran, 3:6] Be content with how Al-Musawwir shaped you by His ultimate wisdom. For example, if we were as beautiful as the Prophet Yuusuf ‘alayhi salam, would we be able to withstand the temptations he faced? When you look at yourself in the mirror, say Alhamdulillah. If Shaytan tempts you to complain about any of your facial or body features, remember those who are blind, sick, or disabled.

2. Reflect on beautiful shapes.
Allah ‘azza wajal says: Then We made the seed a clot, then We made the clot a lump of flesh, then We made (in) the lump of flesh bones, then We clothed the bones with flesh, then We caused it to grow into another creation, so blessed be Allah, the best of the creators. [Quran, 23:14] Everything you see around us is proof of Allah’s existence. To please your senses, He designed flowers, trees, fruits, and even cows and sheep, etc. to have very appealing shapes. Amazingly, when it comes to outside your range of normal vision, the mosquitoes, bees, and other insects are very terrifying to look at. He ensured that you live a pleasant life, so thank Al-Musawwir for the blessings of beautiful shapes to look at.

3. Live up to your potential!
Know your position. Indeed, We have created the human being upon the best of forms. [Quran, 95: 4] Al-Musawwir created and formed you with a particular brain, heart, face, and limbs, which differentiate us from the animals. How do you use them? You will be questioned on the Day of Judgment as to how you use your hearing, your sight, and your hearts. So use these faculties to do as many good deeds as you can and don’t use them to harm yourself or others by sinning, nor by going to forbidden places.

4. Worship Al-Musawwir alone.
Allah ‘azza wa jall alone deserves your worship. This is the Creation of Allah. Now show me that which those (you worship) beside Him have created. Nay, but the wrong-doers are in manifest error! [Quran, 31:11] Remember this ayah when you feel tempted to turn to others for your desires instead of to Al-Musawwir.

5. Ask Al-Musawwir.
Is not He Who created the heavens and the earth able to create the like of them? Yes Indeed! and He is the Superb Creator (of all), the Ever-Knowing. Surely His Command, when He wills a thing, is only to say to it: ‘Be!’ and it is! Therefore glory be to Him in Whose hand is the Kingdom of all things, and to Him you shall be brought back. [Quran, 36:82-83].
Al-Musawwir perfected everything you see around you; don’t you think He can solve all your problems? So remember when you supplicate: nothing is impossible for al-Musawwir.

O Allah, Al-Musawwir, we know that You are the One who forms the whole creation. Make us of the shaakireen (the grateful ones) for our own forms and the shapes around us, help us ponder Your creations and ask You at all times. Make us of those who use the blessings you gave us for good, and make us witness the beautiful shapes of Paradise, ameen!

And Allah knows best.

[uwabbittuwabbit]

Ummmm mediaeval au??????? A little hint maybe.... ( If you're ok with it ofc!)

WOAUGH ok let me be brief (1/100000)... The gist is Marc is a saint blessed by god with a healing factor far exceeding that of a regular man (sidenote: he does have stigmata and occasionally premonitions). So he's sent away to an Italian monastery for his own good, to prevent his sainthood being exploited by people who do not have his best interests at heart and to become properly god fearing. Well Marc is properly MISERABLE because he's in a foreign country away from his family and UCCIO is the abbot (guess who the main proprietor is. Actually you don't need to) and as is canonical in every conceivable universe, Uccio hates Marc's guts and hates him even more for acting out, which he does often; his favorite activity is sneaking out to the stables and taking horses out for rides. Consequentially Marc is sentenced to the ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPT MINES where he has to do the worst possible thing for Marc Marquez: transcribe holy texts hunched over for hours while trying not to die from the boredom. Marc KNOWS that the monastery life is not for him and will not help him fulfill the mysterious purposes that God bestowed upon him, this is not the suffering he anticipated for but he stays because he desperately wants to be good so much even as its tearing him away from his intended path. The monastery is actually like, the lord of the land Valentino Rossi's little training camp where the monks are supposed to be instilled with loyalty towards him and are trained in arts such as riding and swordplay. It's also where he keeps a majority of his wealth to keep a low profile through bestowing donations to the monastery that is then put into land purchases and the like (so, money laundering) and a majority of his intelligence (confessional is a very valuable resource for information) comes through the illuminated manuscripts. Marc isn't allowed to work on those particular ones unless it's to make maps which Uccio reluctantly allows because he is very good at it. Marc falls immediately in love with Vale when he visits to consult with Uccio or whatever and since he's in a good mood he wants to go racing with the boys :) Everyone immediately runs to the stables to prepare because it's been so long since Vale has had time for them, he's been so busy what with Luca in Rome and all. Marc typically isn't allowed to ride with the boys though, he's so inundated with transcription work and he doesn't even have his own horse-- so he's about to go back to finishing his manuscript in despair when Vale catches him. He asks why Marc isn't going out with the rest of them; this is a contest for all of the boys and offers Marc his OWN horse to ride. Imagine, if you will, Vale handing Marc the reins to his majestic steed, winking at him roguishly to say that he knows that Marc will take good care of her. Marc is absolutely gone. Everyone else is disappointed of course that Vale isn't racing but they're intrigued as to what the relatively anonymous new recruit, who hasn't really been seen outside of the cloisters, will do with Valentino's horse. Vale has allowed the other boys to sit astride upon her of course, but they had never managed to eke out what Valentino managed, the sharp turns and the sheer speed. She is an excellent horse but Valentino is an even better horseman, this is known. Well, Marc completely destroys the competition. He rides like a star shot down from heaven, Vale's face breaking out into this enigmatic smile during the course of the entire event. Afterwards Marc thinks that Valentino congratulating him will be the last he sees of him and he's SICK he has to go back to manuscripts after having a taste of the life he has always wanted. He starts (crazily) to write love letters to Vale in the margins of his manuscripts, letters he knows Valentino will never read. But a couple of months later Uccio tells Marc that he has his own horse now, and a few days after that Valentino comes round inquiring about the best horseman and navigator at the monastery and whether or not he is up to joining him on pilgrimage to Rome...

[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel for Elle USA - June 2007

From the moment she appears, Jessica Biel is gracefully deflecting the attention of men. Wearing Roger Vivier white pumps and snug True Religion jeans, her hair tightly pulled back in a ponytail, she walks out of the elevator in the Hotel Gansevoort in New York City's Meatpacking District at a rapid clip, shedding two young men who had the incredible good luck to have ridden down with her. She nods them off nicely as they walk away grinning and no doubt mentally compiling lists of buddies who'll be receiving the following text message: "DUDE! I WAS JUST IN AN ELEVATOR WITH THE SEXIEST WOMAN ALIVE!"

Next in the gauntlet is a Moby-looking scenester with a paunch who descends upon her in Ono, the Gansevoort's bustling, dimly lit Japanese restaurant, introducing him- self as if he's an old friend. The fact that he's wielding a Treo device like a video camera goes unnoticed by Biel, who later refers to said implication as "creepy." She dis- patches him into the darkness with a tight smile and walks through the large restaurant to a back booth, caus- ing a ripple of chopsticks to go still as heads turn.

If the rhythms and rotations of the mass entertainment media complex are to be trusted, we are currently living in Jessica Biel's Big Moment. After getting her foot in the door in 1996 on the show 7th Heaven, the now-25-year- old actress won the hearts and minds of the boys with her badass ability to wield a meat cleaver in the 2003 remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and a bow and arrow in 2004's Blade: Trinity. Her turn in 2005's Stealth, which bombed (literally), may have gone largely unnoticed, but the trailer highlighting Biel under a waterfall certainly didn't. Then in the fall of 2005, Esquire bestowed on her the magazine's "Sexiest Woman" honorific. Last summer, she deftly skipped over the threshold from hottie to respectable actor with her supple performance as an early-twentieth-century duchess opposite Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti in The Illusionist and since then has become a red-carpet flashbulb magnet, wearing Valentino to the Golden Globes and, to present at the Oscars, a fuchsia halter-top Oscar de la Renta dress that strikingly revealed her toned shoulders.

And yet "it's still a struggle," Biel says, sitting up straight with the alertness of a ninja. Her tan sleeveless Preen turtleneck highlights her muscular arms. "I thought the Esquire cover was going to be really positive for my career," she says. "But it wasn't, really." Biel recalls being told by one director, "I'm not looking for the sexiest woman; I'm looking for the girl next door."

"Parts that I really want aren't going to me," Biel says. "Like The Other Boleyn Girl with Scarlett Johansson and Natalie Portman." But she stops herself. "I don't want to say that there's nothing I love that I can have. But there's still the occasional script that the director doesn't want to see you for. They want that top tier of girls."

So how does she go from Big Moment to top tier? Gaug- ing from her acting heroes-Meryl Streep, Cate Blanchett, and Annette Bening (with whom she will costar, along with Sean Bean, in a screen adaptation of Oscar Wilde's play A Woman of No Importance)-it seems she has good taste. And in addition to working with Nicolas Cage and Julianne Moore in the recent thriller Next, Biel is finally getting a turn at comedy-something she's been longing for-opposite Adam Sandler and Kevin James in I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, due out next month.

"Jessica is a great actress who also happens to be smart, sweet, and funny," Sandler says. "But the best part of working with her was watching her beat Kevin James at arm wrestling." Not that the movie, about two firefighters who pretend to be gay in order to claim domestic-partner benefits (Biel plays their lawyer), refrains from reveling in her sexiness-she sheds her clothes for a gawking Sandler, and when his character first sees her, his world goes into super slow-mo.

"She's capable of attaining the Julia Roberts crown," says Chuck and Larry director Dennis Dugan, referring to Biel's healthy-American-girl vibe and comic timing. The actress herself is wary of such pronouncements.

"The scary thing about having this opportunity is that if it's 'your moment,' that eventually disappears," she says. "I think about reaching for 'the moment' but never really achieving it. That way, I'm always striving."

BIEL CARRIES HERSELF WITH THE CONFIDENCE OF A DANCER OR AN ACCOMPLISHED JOCK-BOTH OF WHICH SHE HAS BEEN.

When Biel walked onto the set of The Illusionist, director Neil Burger was impressed with her athlete's readiness and resolve. She carries herself with the confidence of a dancer or an accomplished jock-both of which she has been. "She completely gave as good as she got" with her Oscar-nominated costars Norton and Giamatti, Burger says. "That's a testament to her poise and her talent."

Early in the production, Biel had a scene with Norton that put the two of them in a stream in the Czech Republic in March. "It was essentially liquid ice. It was like an elec- tric shock, and it knocked the breath out of both of us and Jess turned blue," Norton says. "When we watched it back on the monitor, you could see it hadn't played out exactly right. Neil and I both wanted to do it again, but some- times you have to give up perfect for safety, and we were hesitant to ask her to get back in that water. But she said, 'It wasn't right, was it? Let's do it again.' And I thought, All right, she's a pro."

"She doesn't take herself too seriously," says her friend and producing partner Michelle Purple.

Stephen Collins, who played Biel's minister father on 7th Heaven, agrees: "She has an incredible goof-off, tom- boy streak," he says.

So what was a tomboy doing in the front rows at fashion week in Paris early last March? ("An intimi- dating and overwhelming environment," Biel says.) Scoring some clothing, including the Preen number she's wearing now, and also celebrating her twenty- fifth birthday. "Someone said, 'You have five years till 30.' I started to think, Wow, over the next five years, my life could really change personally," Biel says smil- ing, with a slight squint of her catlike eyes.

When the tabloids started spotting Biel with Justin Timberlake in January shortly after his breakup with Cameron Diaz-the two were seen snowboard- ing together in Park City, Utah, during the Sundance Film Festival; sharing a glass of champagne at Prince's Golden Globes party; and backstage at Timberlake's concert in San Diego-her personal life suddenly became of great interest to the public. She dodges a probe about her relationship with Timberlake while knocking back shrimp tempura with aplomb, saying that she was in Park City with girlfriends and holding

"WE DIDN'T LOCK OUR DOORS," BIEL SAYS OF HER COLORADO CHILDHOOD,

meetings for her production company, Iron Ocean Films. Nor does she want to discuss her past relation- ships with actors Ryan Reynolds and Chris Evans, or Yankee star Derek Jeter, "for no other reason than I can't even go to the dry cleaner by myself anymore," she says. "You're seen in public with anybody that you might not even know, and you're speculated about."

Asked if the constant attention makes dating hard, she says, "It makes everything hard because you can't even go to pick up a prescription without somebody trying to snap a photo of what you have in your Longs Drugs bag. Thank goodness I'm a nice person," she says. "Thank you, Mom, for teaching me that.

"The day after Biel was born, in Ely, Minnesota, her parents took her to a dogsled race; it was 30 degrees below zero. By age one she was in a canoe. Her mother, who is "New Age," grew up in Colorado, hunting for arrowheads as a child; her father was a "mountain man" who ran an Outward Bound school and worked as an international business consultant. His career took the family (her brother, Justin, is three years younger) from Texas to Connecticut and, finally, to Boulder. "We didn't lock our doors," she says. "We snowboarded, hiked, climbed, rafted. We grew up without a fear of the world."

Although Biel thrived at athletics, she doesn't remember a time when she wasn't dancing or sing- ing. At age 11, she signed up with a talent agency in Denver, which got her to the International Modeling and Talent Association convention in Los Angeles, which in turn got her into meetings with managers and agencies.

"I wanted to be Whitney Houston for a long time. I would be onstage and I would just come alive," Biel recalls. "I begged my parents to let me go out for pilot season."

When she was 14, she landed her central role in 7th Heaven, playing the oldest daughter of seven kids in a wholesome Christian family. But after a few years, she wanted to mix things up personally and professionally. At 17, Biel posed seductively for a Gear magazine photo shoot, topless with scant bottoms. It was a clear sign that she wanted to be off the show. "I was all over the place," she says now. "I was being a rebellious teenager." She feels that she was exploited by the magazine, but 7th Heaven's producers cut her out of the series. (She eventually returned in a more limited role.)

"The Gear thing, while embarrassing, wasn't exactly bad for her career," Collins says. True enough, in that between Gear and Esquire Biel worked on seven major films. But none of those movies had anywhere near the impact that taking off her clothes did . Julianne Moore says that Biel's "extraordinary" beauty appears as if "she were carved from marble," but she also has a body that you'd think only a comic book artist could draw-curvy in just the right places-and yet still healthy. 

"WE SNOWBOARDED, HIKED, CLIMBED, RAFTED. WE GREW UP WITHOUT A FEAR OF THE WORLD." 

Biel works out three times a week, primarily heart-rate training, doing fast-speed soccer exercises, squats, and running. She also does yoga regularly. Still, she feigns dismay at the suggestion that she looks buff.

"What do you mean? This is the thinnest and the least muscular I've been in a long time," she protests. "I'm so lean and feminine!"

As we order tea after dinner, the large party of 20 at the banquet table perpendicular to ours has mostly disbanded, allowing four of the men left at the table to reshuffle themselves so that eventually they sit on one side, facing her. It's as if they're at dinner theater. Biel may feel she has yet to land the role that breaks her out, but until that time, she has no shortage of fans who will be happy to watch her along the way.

When asked to go bowling two days later, after her ELLE photo shoot, Biel scarcely raises an eyebrow. She throws on a black ensemble and arrives ready to roll at Chelsea Piers between two lanes of bouncy seven-year-old girls. Despite doing pretty poorly, losing for eight frames, she pulls a spare, a strike, and two nines at the very end to win the contest. "I was really sucking, but I'm a closer," she says gamely. "You should see me at beer pong."

[wickedsick]

Psychonauts Secret Santa 2023

@wonderlaneyart I'm your secret Santa this year! Sorry if it's a little short.

“This is going to be horrendous.”

Gloria sat behind a large black curtain, the only thing protecting her from what would surely be the worst flop of her entire acting career.

Nearby, Fred hovered nervously, wanting to help but unable to find the right words.

“...No?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Fred saw Napoleon looking at him with disdain.

“Non? You did this for a living and you say non?”

“Shut up,” Fred muttered under his breath. Turning back to Gloria, he tried again. “Look- e-even if it doesn't go to plan, it- it's going to be alright. There's no critics out there, nobody's going to- to do whatever mean people who don't like plays do. I don't know.”

Sitting down next to Gloria and adjusting his cape, he continued. “But, if you really don't want to do this, you don't have to. We can just show off Edgar’s props,” he said, gesturing to the backdrop and props of cardboard and black velvet Edgar had prepared.

“No-no, I can do this. I want to do this,” Gloria said, standing up.

“Gotcha. Well, I'll go raise the curtain then,” Fred said, running off to do just that.

Turning to face the thick curtain, Gloria felt the nerves that Fred had help calm get jumpy again.

I haven't been onstage in ages-

What if I've lost my talent-

Am I forcing everyone into this-

But then the curtain started to rise and she didn't have the time to think of those things.

It was time to act.

“The year is 1815,” Edgar narrated from behind the stage, flicking switches on his light board. “The month is May. The location is Blois, France. The weather is sunny. Our heroine sits in her study.”

The spotlight landed on Gloria.

“Ah, woe is me,” she said, “my husband, Napoleon, has been dethroned- and I know not yet what will happen to me, nor my son.” She gestured to a cardboard cutout of a small boy. “We were sent to this small village to escape the Sixth Coalition, but what are we to do now?”

As the light spread across the rest of the stage, Boyd entered, holding a prop letter. “Uh- madam, this arrived for you. It comes from Paris.”

As Gloria took the letter, she spared a quick glance to stage left, where Fred waited in the darkness.

“My dear Marie Louise,” Gloria read. As Fred’s spotlight flicked on, he began speaking with Gloria, writing the letter as she read it.

“I am writing you this letter to inform you that I have returned from exile. I have, with the support of my army and those fools who claimed to betray me to Louis XVIII, retaken my throne as Emperor, and removed the usurper who dared sit in my home.” Gloria stopped speaking, letting Fred lead. “Various countries- Britain, Russia, Austria, Prussia- have pledged large armies to destroy me, and yet it shall be I who destroy them.” Fred’s French accent was comically over-the-top; he said he did it to annoy his ancestor. “Soon, ai shall march to meet zese armees, ét drive between zem a wedge. Ai mak fair bélgium een déux month's time. Béfaire zén, ai invité you to rejoin me een paris. Yur 'usband and empairair…” Fred’s light shut off-

“Napoleon,” Gloria read. “Oh, what am I to do? It is three days’ travel to Paris, so I have almost sixty days to decide. Ally myself once again with Napoleon, or remain here in Blois?”

She turned to the cardboard cutout boy. “Ah, my son. The Treaty of Fontaine prevents you from inheriting your father’s lands, his titles- You, who were once the heir to the French Empire, the King of Rome- what would you wish? To remain the prince of Parma? Or to reunite with your father, for a chance to reclaim the titles you were bestowed at birth? Be it better to stand upon the cliff, safe, or to leap for the heavens, at risk of falling like did Icarus to far lower than you have ever been?” Gloria was proud of that monologue- she had written that part herself. Most of the script was Fred’s invention.

“What troubles you, milady?” Edgar came in from offstage, as Boyd took over the lights.

“A-ah! Count Niepperg! What brings you here?”

“Checking in on you. And your son,” Edgar said. “No doubt that madman did horrible things to you both back in Paris- but worry not! The Seventh Coalition shall deal with him.”

Gloria’s face and tone turned icy. “The first five Coalitions did not ‘deal with him’. Even the sixth only deterred him for a time. Why should this one be the one to succeed?”

Edgar stepped back. He was quite a good actor- managing to make himself look small, as the shadows made Gloria seem more regal. “Milady, I- if it will assuage your fears-”

“I do not fear Napoleon. I bear no ill will towards him, as I hope he bears none to me. However, while there are no fears to be assuaged, you have indeed helped me- by helping me make up my mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Napoleon has invited me to return to Paris. And now, I shall. I know not what will happen, with Napoleon or the Seventh Coalition, but I know the path I must walk.”

“Then I shall walk that path with you,” Edgar said. “May we both live to see the path’s end.”

As the curtain fell, the lighting changed to basic, warm light. With a deep exhale, Gloria stopped being Marie Louise and went back to just plain old Gloria. “How was that, everyone?” She asked, as Boyd and Edgar came out from behind the painted backdrop.

“I- I think that went pretty well,” Boyd said. “I mean, I only had one line, but I think I said the line well!”

“It’s your play, Gloria,” Fred said. “Do you think it went well?”

“Yes, I enjoyed it,” Gloria said, “But I don’t think I wanted it to be my play. I wanted to do it with you- so I do hope you all enjoyed it.”

“I liked painting the backdrop,” Edgar said. “I may have preferred to be the mailman, though.”

“I’d be good with being the- the Neeper guy,” Boyd offered.

“Niepperg,” Fred corrected. “Napoleon’s still muttering in my ear about that accent, but he says you made a great Marie Louise.”

“Oh, good,” Gloria said. “In that case, I say we take our bow.”

As the former inmates came out from behind the curtain, they looked out at the crowd- particularly, at row three, seat seven, where a kid in goggles sat, clapping louder than anyone.

As everyone worked together to take down the makeshift stage, Razputin came up to them.

“Hey, so- there’s no second act, so I was wondering what happened. Is this before or after the board game?”

“Before,” Fred said, chuckling. “Count Niepperg and Marie Louise went back to Paris, after which Napoleon left for the battle of Waterloo- which he lost. Ow!” Flinching, Fred turned back to Raz. “Yeah, he wanted me to say the game’s inaccurate. He actually lost because of the French Psychoseparatist Movement.”

“The huh?”

“A bunch of psychics who wanted to secede from the country and make their own little psycho-nation. A few of them attacked during the battle of Waterloo and messed up Napoleon’s back lines with a horde of bunnies.”

“Wait, bunnies?” Raz said.

“Yeah, some guy named Marcel Oleander controlled, like, three thousand bunnies to attack the French forces. Combined with a whole bunch of other stuff, they actually tilted the scales against Napoleon, and he ended up losing the battle.”

Raz looked deep in thought. “Huh.”

“They added some of that stuff in one of the expansions, but I always felt it messed with the game’s balance too much.”

[basicsofislam]

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting & Ramadan 

BASICS OF ISLAM: Fasting: What are the spiritual benefits of fasting?.Part1

Every human being has a body and a soul.

Both the body and the soul have certain desires and they strive for domination over one another in order to fulfill their desires.

Lustful and carnal desires pertain to the body created from dry clay; in connection with this the Holy Qur’an declares:

“Verily We created man from potter’s clay, from mud molded into shape” [al-Hijr 15:26]

“Just ask their opinion: Are they the more difficult to create, or those (angels, the Heavens, and the Earth) whom We have created. Surely We have created you from sticky clay” [as- Saffat 37:11].

“He created humankind from dry clay like earthen vessels” [ar-Rahman 55:14].

The other aspect of human beings is the soul, which is a reminder of the wisdom in the creation of humanity and which guides them toward good and Godly deeds, helping them to contemplate and admire the spiritual worlds. The soul rejoices and relishes in great pleasures even when the body is crying out for a sip of water or a morsel of food.

Fasting helps human beings to understand the dark and heinous nature of certain deeds and avoid them.

When the dominance of the soul over the body weakens or when the body becomes dominant, then human beings become slaves to their carnal desires. They pay no heed to the intellect or to religious admonitions and spend all their energy trying to quench thirst and hunger for worldly delights. Their only concern is to find new ways of satisfying their carnal desires. They have to invent substances that increase the appetite, that aid digestion, or even act as stimulants.

“Such people are like a donkey or an ox even if they are at the peak of science, culture, and civilization.  They will commute between the dining room and the toilet all their life and will have no time for any principles or for the eternal life. All their faculties will die, except for those pertaining to lust, food, drink, and foolish entertainment.”

No depiction can be more precise or more elegant than that of the Qur’an:

“…as for those who disbelieve, they shall enjoy this world and eat as cattle eat; and the Fire shall be their abode” [Muhammad 47:12].

a. Fasting helps the believer to remember Allah

Every hour, even every second of the daily life of a person who fasts leads to the remembrance of Allah, reunion with the Almighty, and the blessings He has bestowed upon human beings. Fasting brings about this remembrance in two ways: It makes the believers long for eternal blessings by showing them that the worldly favors are transient.

The pleasure that the believers who fast enjoy when they break their fast and thus end a form of suffering also makes them remember Allah and the eternal blessings He has created for them in the Hereafter.

Although those who suffer from hunger and thirst from dawn until sunset apparently feel pain, the favors that await them in the other world soothe their sufferings. Moreover, they find pleasure in contemplating reunion with the Almighty Allah; it is for Him that believers abstain from food, drink, and other corporeal desires.

The Noble Messenger, peace and blessings be upon him, says:

“There are two pleasures for the fasting person, one at the time of breaking their fast, and the other at the time when they will meet their Lord.”

[myfairstarlight]

For Every Question Why - Chapter 6

AO3 Link. Previous / Next.

Rated: T Chapter length: 6k Chapter summary:

Through the Arrangement, an angel has the uncomfortable realisation they are prone to jealousy and bouts of anger much more easily than an angel like them should be.

*all additional notes on ao3

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Heaven

Janiel walks as casually as he can manage to as he makes his way through the hallowed halls of Heaven. In some way, he should not be here, he handed in his latest report only a week prior and he has no meeting to attend to. Sure, no one should bat an eye that he’s here to take a break from Earth but he has business to attend to and he’s trying to avoid Raphael without making it blatantly obvious.

The Archangel has been oddly… sociable. Always present now when Janiel comes back to report, standing next to Michael with a friendly smile Janiel knew was only a pretty facade. Raphael has always been more of a loner, too busy loving her stars to care about anything else Heaven, and even less Earth, is up to, and yet here she constantly is now, actually taking part in the role her title bestowed upon her.

Or as Janiel likes to call it: nagging him into annoyance.

“Seraphim Janiel!” the voice he was searching for says and he perks up, making a U-turn to face Muriel who smiles brightly, a report held tightly to their chest.

“Muriel, wonderful, is that what I think it is?”

The Scrivener nods. “Everything about the original blueprints for Earth and humans. About that emotion you asked for, LOVE, however...”

“Mm?”

“Unfortunately I could not access those files, Archangel Raphael took them and Seraphim Cassiel said they could not make a copy without them as the original file of the angel who created LOVE could not be found.”

Janiel holds back a groan. That… is his fault, ultimately. He did not think destroying Astrophel’s file would have such a consequence but it makes sense, everything the demon worked on would have been in there. He supposes he could directly ask Astrophel but the demon’s eyes always darken whenever Janiel mentions Before and that is a sight he’d rather not witness if he can help it. He still lets out a disappointed sigh as he grabs the files Muriel hands him.

“Sorr—”

“Don’t fret it, Muriel, it’s not your fault,” Janiel cuts them off immediately. “This is already more than helpful, thank you.”

The angel beams in a way that now reminds Janiel of small puppies back on Earth. He chuckles, patting their head.

Not long after, he lets them go so the Scrivener may resume their usual work and Janiel hurries out of Heaven with the files safely tucked within his clothes.

He meant to do all this research right after Pompeii’s incident — but truth be told, he got distracted and Heaven suddenly handed him more assignments than he was used to, then the Arrangement came to be and for a while, all of Janiel’s worries were washed away by pure glee. The thing is, seeing Astrophel so naturally saving seemingly insignificant humans made Janiel realise how… inadequate he truly was. He’s supposed to be the guardian angel, after all, what did it say about him that Astrophel did the job he was supposed to do without so much of a thought? And while feeling incredibly guilty about it?

(That just was not fair. Thus the idea of the Arrangement was born.)

He loves humans as well, he’s an angel, he ought to, he got extremely attached in perhaps too many instances for how fleeting humans are, and yet— there’s not much he tried to do to protect them.

(Then again, the job description was to protect them from Hell, but it turns out Astrophel doesn’t even want to truly harm them, no, throughout the years, in all the moments wherein he could have acted, Janiel would have had to protect them from Heaven.)

And LOVE. The very human kind of love, so distinct from the one he and his fellow angels feel for all Her creatures, what an enigma of an emotion it is, especially now that none of them has a proper file on the subject. Janiel has been feeling flashes of it whenever near Astrophel, the warm Emotion still pulsing gently within the demon’s soul whenever the latter interacts with humans. For one can never truly separate a creation from its creator.

He wonders…

As his feet touch Earth’s ground again, Janiel clutches his shirt where his body’s heart is beating very intensely all the while looking up into a dark, starry night over London. It is a constant rhythm, hammering in his ears, uncomfortable and yet all too familiar.

What a strange creation that is, LOVE. Invisible, and yet a force that makes the world turn. Perhaps greater than the stars he once shaped.

He shall cherish it as well.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

The Globe Theatre — London. 1601.

Janiel sniffs as he makes his way through the busy crowd of the Globe Theatre. Fortunately, Astrophel’s white curls always manage to stand out no matter what.

(Or perhaps he is the only presence Janiel cares to pay attention to.)

Unfortunately, that poet is also near, awfully close to the demon and it does not help that Astrophel seems pleased to have the man’s undivided attention. Janiel holds in a sigh— well, that explains the abundant crowd despite this being one of Shakespeare's gloomiest plays yet. For all his angelic disposition and undemonic positivity, Astrophel sure has a peculiar taste for the tragic stories humans like to create for entertainment all the while frowning down at violence and instruments of torture.

(“Violence is the easy option. Manipulation and psychological warfare, now that's worth worrying about and is much more praise-worthy, I believe. It destroys without leaving a trace, or well, obvious ones in the immediate aftermath,” Astrophel had said one day, fingers scratching at the corner of his eyes absently and the angel wisely did not question it. It was a good reminder that Astrophel was still a demon and was not running from it either.)

Ever since the Arrangement has been in place, Astrophel has loosened up a bit, no longer keeping a safe distance from humans like he used to and becoming wholly involved in the lives of the ones that caught his eye. A lot of them are writers, which is of no surprise, although he cannot read, Astrophel has always thoroughly enjoyed listening to the humans. He is certain a good half of William's poems must be in some way inspired by the demon.

(... And because Janiel is aware the man stole some of his words while they all shared a drink and some praises left the angel's lips.)

It made Janiel realise how unremarkable most humans are to him, that he only got attached when God set Her grip on one and Janiel felt the inner need to protect them as much as he could.

It has been a good while since She has interfered in any way on Earth, now that he thinks about it. He should be grateful for it but ever since Metatron has risen in ranks, now becoming the Voice of God. Enoch was never one Janiel appreciated much as a human, so as an angel, and his superior? He almost wishes God would mess around with Earth again if only so he would not have to deal with Metatron so much.

“Janiel!” Astrophel calls, to Janiel's surprise. The angel grins, sauntering over and not missing the pout now framing William's mouth. “You've been standing there for a while without greeting me?”

“Apologies, starlight, I got distracted by the play,” he replies and frowns at the dark-tinted glasses hiding the demon's eyes. That is a new development as well. He hates them. “Hello Bill,” he says next with a nonchalant wave.

“Mm,” is all the response the famed dramaturge gives him.

Astrophel nudges the angel who grunts and then quickly corrects, “I mean William. Enjoying the success?” Janiel gives his friend a pointed glance at that and Astrophel must have sensed it because he turns his head the other way with a tiny huff.

“I’m merely happy to see others enjoy my more serious creations, despite what you warned me about, good sir.”

“I do like the funny ones better,” Janiel admits. “Enough gloominess in the world, I do not see the point of seeing more of it.”

“That is your problem, I fear.”

Janiel grunts and ensues a glaring contest between him and the human until Astrophel clears his throat.

“William dear, will you excuse us?”

Janiel is barely able to suppress his satisfied smile. Ha! I won! An arrogant voice chimes happily in his mind.

The poet looks particularly disgruntled but he nods. “Of course, dear Aster. Please find me after the show before you depart for Edinburgh, will you?”

“Naturally,” Astrophel agrees, patting his shoulder. “Now shoo, your actors probably need you.”

Astrophel almost shoves him away afterwards with the way William seems quite reluctant to move but eventually, the man leaves, not without another glare in Janiel's direction.

“He doesn't like me,” the angel states. “See if I let him steal my words ever again.”

“You do nag him a lot, even about his funny plays,” Astrophel says.

“To keep him on his toes, it’d be a shame if he lets go because of the success and his next creations lack in quality, don’t you think?”

The demon makes a face. “I suppose so.”

“So, Edinburgh, huh?”

Astrophel hums. “Ah yes, minor temptations to perform, it should only take a few.”

“I’m actually due to go to Edinburgh soon as well, small blessings here and there…” He circles Astrophel as he speaks, leaning ever so slightly into the demon’s aura. To be honest, he just enjoys the way Astrophel tilts his head as if to chase the sound of his voice.

“Oh!” the demon exclaims. “Then no worries dear, I can take care of those so you don’t have to bother with travelling.”

Janiel falters. “Uh— are you sure? I’m supposed to ride a horse and I know how you hate that, hard on the buttocks. I really need a word with whoever was in charge of their design.”

Astrophel stifles a laugh. “It’ll be alright, I got used to it.” The demon leans back, continuing to eat the grapes he has gathered in his left palm. Janiel steals one and pops it between his teeth.

“Y’know, I still have yet to perform temptations for you, it feels kinda unfair to you,” he points out, as casually as he can manage without sounding like a reproach.

“Really? I do not see the issue.”

“Starlight… the Arrangement, it’s been almost a thousand years and so far it feels more like I’m exploiting you than helping you. And I—” Janiel takes a deep breath while Astrophel slowly turns to him, even lowering his glasses so star-filled eyes settle on him expectantly. He’s always hated being so… honest about his feelings but something about the demon… “I feel bad about it, alright? Sure, a part of me suggested this arrangement so I’d have less work to do but I didn't mean to dump it all on you!” And he does hate the fact it took him this long to even realise. “So please, just let me help. Unless you worry I’m not fit to do temptations in which case, why don’t you teach me? Could be fun, and—”

“Janiel,” Astrophel cuts him off and suddenly, a pale chubby hand reaches for his chin, pulling him down. Janiel splutters, certain that his face has gone aflame at the sudden touch and proximity. “Temptations are far from fun. They go against everything an angel like you should strive for lest they want to Fall.”

The angel draws out a shaky breath. From this angle he gets a better look at the demon’s eyes behind those damn glasses — they glow darkly, the stars swirling into an endless nebula, agitated, frustrated. It's a warning, almost a threat.

And it makes him wonder why Astrophel even agreed to an Arrangement if he worried about causing Janiel to Fall.

“I know, I was joking,” he says softly, grabbing Astrophel’s wrist, prompting him to loosen his grip on his chin. Janiel grins, holding Astrophel’s hand and keeping it close to his chest. “I can tell you do not enjoy performing them either, so don’t use the angel excuse on me.” In any case, I am not scared to Fall if you're there to catch me, he doesn't add.

“Mm.”

“So let me lighten the burden, alright?” The demon does not answer. “Come on, that was part of the deal. It’s not like all my blessings are easy work either.”

“Your reports and the way you write were laughably easy to copy. And I’m blind,” Astrophel says.

“Hey! Giving them low-effort reports means they won’t expect more,” Janiel argues.

“By that, I mean the temptations themselves would not even be the issue, the issue would be you trying to imitate my writing style.”

“What? Sounding like an entitled prick? Like that’s complicated.”

Astrophel gasps, but it’s light-hearted at best. “I’ll have Crowley steal all your jewellery for the next century again.”

“Speaking of, one of my rings is still missing, you would not happen to know anything about that?”

The demon grins innocently. “No.”

Janiel rolls his eyes. He can feel the aforementioned ring between his fingers right this moment. Of course, he’s noticed Astrophel kept it for himself forever ago but to be quite honest, he likes the sight of it there. Gold suits the demon lovingly.

“You can do both the blessings and temptations in Edinburgh, but next time I get dibs, alright?”

Astrophel sighs. “Alright.”

“Promise me?” Janiel winces, hoping this doesn’t come out as insecure.

Astrophel nods, then brings their joined hands to his mouth so he may drop a kiss on Janiel’s knuckles. “I promise.”

Before Janiel can react, the crowd suddenly alights with cheers and loud clappings, startling him. Astrophel slips away.

The angel brings his now-freed hand to his cheek with a grumble. He felt a burst of LOVE at the press of those plump lips against his skin, he can’t make sense of it.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Venice — 1753.

Janiel groans as she fusses over her mask and dress, trying to avoid it being trumped over by all the humans surrounding her and rushing past her.

Temptations, as it turns out, are much more complicated to accomplish than Janiel expected them to be. She’s not exactly happy with Heaven, Gabriel’s deceptive positive attitude as well as Michael’s stern glare are a pain to deal with, especially now with Raphael’s added presence but at least every assignment Janiel has been handed was carefully explained, from a complete history of the humans concerned to the preferred method to approach them, as well as a quota of miracles to not exceed — not that most of these blessings have needed a lot of miracles anyway. Janiel likes to think of herself as a free-spirited angel, but also a quite lazy one; if Heaven was arranging things so her missions could go as smoothly as possible, she was not going to stop and think of an alternative way to handle the blessings, most times.

Hell’s instructions, on the other hand, are the vaguest things she has ever read. The note that Astrophel slipped her earlier that week only read ‘There is a man in Venice, you know the rest’.

(That is without mentioning the egregious spelling mistakes in such a short instruction.)

She could have asked Astrophel for pointers but that would also mean accepting defeat and angels are not supposed to be prideful but damn it if Janiel would rather not ask for help with the way Astrophel has effortlessly handled her blessings before. She’s made progress, though! Perhaps slower than she would have hoped. The “man” Hell seems to refer to must be one Giacomo Casanova, a self-proclaimed adventurer and lover of life, who’s been causing quite the chaos and has already been accused of debauchery and heresy — why he has not been arrested yet is a miracle in itself. Taking a page out of Astrophel’s book, Janiel opted for a more female-presenting appearance after hearing of the man’s tendency to seduce any woman he so much as lays his eyes on, assuming it would thus make it easier to grab his attention and sink him deeper into sin. And, as Janiel scans the carnival in search of the not-so-gentleman, she can throw a wild guess on how the man has escaped sanctions because she could recognise the platinum curls of the being standing right next to him anywhere.

(The owl perched on his shoulder as if it were part of the costume helps as well.)

She sees the exact moment Astrophel senses her presence because he subtly freezes, no longer listening to whatever Giacomo is whispering directly into his ear, and additional feathers pop from under his mask — the demon has always been awful at hiding his anxieties in front of her.

Janiel snaps her fingers and stops time around them before Astrophel can even think of running away.

“Care to explain, starlight?” she hisses.

“Now that is cheating,” Astrophel huffs, slowly removing his mask. White feathers fall slowly to the ground at the action. “If you wanted a dance you could just ask, dear.”

“Don’t do that right now, I’m mad at you,” Janiel says. Her heels click loudly in the silence as she closes the distance between them. “What are you doing here?!”

“Enjoying life, what else would I be doing in the capital of decadence?” Astrophel responds with a nonchalant shrug.

“Which is your doing, even though you agreed to let me handle this one.”

The demon does not reply but Nebula headbutts the side of his head, as if admonishing him in her way. Janiel suddenly feels a kinship with the bird.

“You didn’t trust me to do this,” Janiel accuses.

“Janiel that's not—” Astrophel cuts himself off, groaning. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“It sure looks like it.”

“Lord Beelzebub was starting to get worried and I could not get my hands on you! I only meant to give you a starting point and I would have been gone in no time.”

“You’re still here,” the angel deadpans.

“I got distracted. I was meant to leave before the carnival… but it is quite an entertaining time. Congratulations on creating such a lovely tradition.”

Despite herself, Janiel flushes at the compliment. “Why thank you— hold on I’m still mad at you!”

Astrophel discreetly curses under his breath. “That usually works…”

It clicks then— Janiel blinks. This is what happened every single time Janiel tried to bring up the Arrangement and convince the demon to let her do her part, Astrophel would absent-mindedly mention one of her previous missions, effectively distracting her when she, inevitably, ended up gushing about her latest lovely creations indeed. Or he would fluster her, one way or another. A kiss on the cheek, on the hand, a pretty little bow…

A strange sensation stings at her eyes and she throws her mask away when she starts to feel it stick to her skin. Ah, tears. That’s new.

“You know what, this is not working. Perhaps you were right, this was a bad idea. Have fun with that adventurer of yours, Astrophel.”

“Janiel—”

With a quick miracle, she teleports outside of the carnival as time resumes its course.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Paris — 1793

Janiel watches people run by with an exasperated expression. He has the feeling he may have failed this particular mission, Heaven probably did not mean “cause a revolution” as a way to re-establish order in France but hey, French people like to be overly dramatic, he supposes. He’ll have to find a way to explain all this away in his report, that everything will turn out alright eventually, and avoid any parallel with Heaven’s history in the process.

(Especially with Robespierre barely hiding his thirst for blood without any demon on the horizon, Heaven generally does not like the ‘humans are just like that’ explanation so Janiel tries to avoid it, even though it just is the truth, only humans ever kill each other with clever machines and flimsy reasons. He thinks it is quite ironic how Heaven is not so much a fan of blood baths anymore when they were responsible for many in the past.)

It’s been difficult, lately, to focus on his missions. One of the many reasons why is that he hasn’t seen Astrophel in over four decades. He hasn’t sought the demon out the whole time and neither did the demon, although he’s been able to sense his presence more than once. Admittedly, that is a very short time for them when they used to go centuries without catching a glimpse of the other, but Janiel got used to seeing his starlight at least once a century, to set up, well, the Arrangement that wasn’t really one, in the end.

Thinking back, maybe he overreacted. Hell must be less lenient than Heaven when it comes to missions, and if Astrophel has been as much of an exemplary agent as he seems to be, Beelzebub probably would not take well to the demon suddenly lacking in his missions and Janiel has to assume Hell isn’t one to just send a strongly worded note to tell you to hurry it up a bit. Janiel knows Gabriel doesn’t care if he takes more time than usual as long as he brings results, and either way, Janiel can lie his way out of it, Gabriel is surprisingly gullible. Astrophel also warned him that that particular temptation in Venice was not the simple, easy kind of temptation since it involved influencing a whole city through a chain of reaction rather than a few humans into causing a little mayhem, or something. Still, Astrophel could have told him so at least they could have figured it out together!

Or perhaps he was way in over his head — he truly was clueless about how to proceed successfully and he should have asked Astrophel for… lessons of some sort, or any kind of advice. He did insist vehemently to be given this assignment and he’s never been good at listening and being patient. Did he make Astrophel feel like he couldn’t say no? No. He has to stop giving the demon excuses, Astrophel has never had struggles telling him no before, and Janiel never insists when he starts to see discomfort settle on the demon’s face.

Still… he misses him… or her… or however the demon is deciding to present nowadays, not that Janiel would know. Last time they talked, Astrophel mentioned wanting to open some sort of antique shop in London as an excuse to store some of the books his favourite writers have gifted him.

“Why a shop and not, I don’t know, a museum? You do not even plan on selling anything,” Janiel had pointed out.

“Precisely!” Astrophel cheered. His smile made him glow against the cloudy Londonian sky. “And isn’t there anything more malicious than offering such an exquisite collection of items only to not be able to purchase it? It would be a perfect way to frustrate and annoy humans without actually hurting them.”

“Mm, I still think you’re complicating this more than necessary. You know how stubborn humans can be, especially rich ones.”

And now Janiel watches as rich French people have their heads separated from their bodies. He laughs to himself, perhaps a bit crudely. Once upon a time, he would have foolishly tried to stop them, influencing everyone into embracing peace the way he tried to soothe an angered, desperate Cain from enacting humanity’s first truly evil act.

And that’s when he hears it.

“Apparemment, ils ont attrapé un aristocrate britannique ce matin,” a revolutionary says, sounding rather hesitant on the matter. “Je ne pense pas qu’on veuille déclarer la guerre tout de suite…”

Janiel perks up. Word travels fast, he doubts any British of a high social class would be dumb enough to cross the Channel unless they had a death wish. Which means—

“Quel dommage, tout de même. De ce que j’ai pu voir, il a un minois bien mignon avec ses bouclettes blondes et ses faux airs d'innocence. Aucune cervelle dans cette jolie tête, ceci dit,” another man comments. “Vu que c’est le premier anglais ils comptent en faire un spectacle, on risque de voir sa tête rouler dans à peine une heure.”

Right, that’s a sign for the angel to get moving. Opting for the discrete approach, Janiel puts a simple cloaking miracle on himself so no human would bat an eye in his direction then he quickly makes his way towards La Conciergerie where he knows all to-be-beheaded prisoners are kept ever since Bastille fell during the first battle.

As he suspected, he finds a peculiar demon nonchalantly waiting in a lower cell, humming to himself as he fiddles with the chains around his wrists. The angel teleports inside, catching the demon perking up at the sound of his feet landing near him.

“Took you long enough,” Astrophel tuts just as Janiel stops time around them when he sees two guards approaching.

“Wh— hold on, I’m not the one who found himself about to lose his head! What are you even doing in Paris, at a time like this, and dressed like that!”

Indeed, Janiel may have never seen the occult being dressed in such a lavish get-up, layers of laces and golden embroidery decorating the edges of the dark coats. He almost reaches forward to feel the fabric under his fingertips — Astrophel has always been partial to any soft and yet intricate clothing and he has also always been intent on buying actual clothes rather than miracling them the way Janiel does, something about authenticity and how he can always tell when the fabric is more ethereal than human.

“I was… feeling peckish,” Astrophel lies, badly.

“Peckish,” Janiel deadpans.

“Well, you can hardly get good crêpes in London, now can you?”

“So what, you popped across the Channel because you wanted something to nibble?”

“I have standards!” the demon gasps dramatically, chains rattling as he clutches invisible pearls around his neck.

This is ridiculous, Janiel thinks, and even so, a smile threatens to tug at his lips just at the familiarity of their banter and the way Astrophel seems to positively glow, proud of his little act.

“You could have gotten discorporated.”

“You wouldn’t have let me.”

These words spoken now almost two thousand years ago ring truer than ever before because here Janiel is, running right after this reckless demon, who seems to like intentionally getting into trouble.

“I… also needed to know,” Astrophel says after a while, face softening, almost vulnerable, “if you would show up. After everything.”

Janiel cannot help being surprised by the sudden honesty.

“A bit of an extreme method for that,” he points out.

“I have standards,” the demon repeats but this time it is said in a teasing tone and a sweet, familiar smile graces his lips. “We both know you enjoy it too.”

“Ah, well,” Janiel mumbles, feeling his cheeks flush. It is a truth neither of them had dared to speak out loud, even during the Arrangement. “I am here.” Of course, I am. I missed you.

“I wanted to apologise,” the demon says in earnest. “For Venice. And even before that. The truth is, I was terrified.” He sighs, throwing his head back as if avoiding Janiel’s gaze. “I’ve truly got nothing to lose from the Arrangement, but you? My dear, if Heaven ever catches on… so I did intentionally… take advantage of the way you easily get distracted so you wouldn't notice I never allowed you to take on any of my missions. Although… I’m a demon, I’m not sure what else you expected from me, of course I’d end up deceiving you, one way or another, I cannot help it.”

Janiel frowns at that last part. The angel could detect a strange mix of emotions — sincerity and dishonesty somehow warped into one contradicting feeling.

“You have a strange definition of deceit, starlight, what you did benefited me and burdened you with more work. That was kind, even if clumsily executed.”

Feathers puff up from the demon’s face. “I’m not kind,” he hisses.

“Any case, I was more upset because I thought you did not trust me to do your temptations,” Janiel admits in turn. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you until you believe me that you do not need to protect me.”

Astrophel sighs. “I am… sorry.”

“Mm, I want a proper apology,” Janiel decides, earning an offended gasp. “A whole dance or something,” he teases next. He quite enjoys having the upper hand, for once, after all.

“I can hardly do that with those handcuffs.”

“Oh I think you can,” the angel drawls, using a miracle to tug the shackles closer, forcing the demon to follow the motion until they’re face to face. “Or you could teach me how to tempt.”

“Huh?”

“Show me! Seduce me!” He’s not quite sure why that is the first suggestion that passes through his lips.

“Janiel you’re an angel, you’re predisposed to resist direct temptations from demons,” Astrophel sighs. Janiel wants to refute — it is precisely because the demon kept distracting him with gentle touches and temptations of alone time around copious amounts of alcohol that Janiel kept getting distracted. “In any case, you do know that is not the only kind of temptation I do, right? In fact, seductions are hardly my department, that’d be Asmodeus—”

“So that Shakespeare fella and Casanova were, what, side projects?”

“Friends, they were friends, Janiel,” Astrophel corrects. “Do you want to talk or scream at me some more about the imaginary version of me frolicking with humans you have in your mind?”

Janiel harrumphs.

“... You’re not actually mad about this whole thing, you were just upset I was friends with some humans!” Astrophel realises. “Janiel!”

“Oh bloody He— uh, Somewhere,” Janiel groans. “I was upset by you deciding what’s best without consulting me! Seeing you be so…” He waves a hand. “With humans, while I was lazing around did not help the matter either. It felt like… you chose them… over me.” He winces at his admission.

“Janiel…”

“It’s just…” The angel searches Astrophel’s face, seeing the way the stars in his eyes swirl gently, a small smile playing on his pink lips. Before thinking better of it, Janiel reaches forward the way Astrophel had once done, grabbing his chin and tipping it up so their noses almost touch. The demon’s breath catches in his throat. “I don’t know. The Arrangement was supposed to allow us more time together, instead it pulled you away from me.”

“You’re being silly,” comes the amused but oh-so-affectionate response. “No one could ever compare to you.”

Janiel breathes in. A flash of LOVE blinds him for a few seconds.

He’s still not sure what it means.

“So… about the lessons…?”

“Very well, I suppose if it prevents me from dealing with an impatient Beelzebub again, I ought to show you how to properly accomplish a hellish assignment.”

Janiel bites back a victorious smile. “What now, starlight?” It feels like a lifetime, or rather, several, since the last time he uttered that question.

“We carry on, dear,” Astrophel replies, as usual, then he pointedly lifts his wrists. “I’d also like to get out of these now.”

The angel pinches his nose, causing the demon to yelp and take a step back. “You can do it yourself.” Astrophel pouts. “Ugh, fine!”

(He gives in incredibly quickly, thinks a certain omniscient entity from above as She observes them.)

With a snap of his fingers, the shackles fall and the demon grins brightly. Astrophel hums as he massages his wrists then promptly miracles his aristocratic clothes into the ragged revolutionary uniform Janiel is also wearing.

“Do you want to hear something funny?” the demon says.

“Mm?”

“I did have an assignment in Paris, I was meant to encourage Robespierre into… well. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and the city was already in chaos. Caused by you, no less.” Astrophel chuckles and pats his arm. “Perhaps I was wrong, temptations may come more easily than I thought to you. You just were overthinking Venice.”

Janiel probably should not feel as proud as he feels at the moment.

“Let’s go get crêpes and have a first proper lesson, shall we?” he offers and with no surprise, Astrophel gladly agrees.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Heaven

Janiel prepared for a reprimand the moment he got a note from Raphael telling him to come back to Heaven. He’s still reeling from everything that happened in the last decades and how wonderfully his reconciliation with Astrophel has gone, he sure is not in the mood to have his bliss obliterated by his ex-boss’s nagging.

Especially since he and Astrophel were careful to swap their reports regarding this French Revolution incident. The demon took credit for the reign of terror taking over the capital, meanwhile, Janiel took credit for the revolutionaries’ determination and for setting in motion the creation of a new government.

(As it turns out, Astrophel had been in Paris a good while before he purposely got arrested, monitoring Janiel’s accidental temptation and making up for the chaos by doing blessings of his own.)

“Janiel!” Raphael greets him immediately as she grabs his arm and teleports them into her office. The Seraphim has to blink and take a couple of seconds to register the fact the Archangel sounds delighted. “You should have told me of your ulterior motive!”

“My… um yes, of course,” he stammers. “What are we talking about?”

“Your special project, the demon Astrophel! Oh, Janiel, aren’t you brilliant, I knew I should have trusted you!”

“... Thank you? It, uh, it hasn’t reached its goal just yet,” he says, trying to be as vague as possible, thoroughly confused as to what Raphael means.

“I bet, it cannot be easy, pretending you even enjoy that demon’s company, what a kind sacrifice on your part,” Raphael gushes and she still has not let go of his arm. “What a glorious development! A demon, powerful at that, performing blessings in our favour… how did you even manage that?”

“Oh well,” Janiel chuckles. “Astrophel is… special, let’s say.” He says carefully. He refuses to lie and insult his friend behind his back, although he’s sure Astrophel would understand if he were to hear of this but by principle, the angel would rather not lower himself to that. “Getting his trust has been no easy journey. See, I could not defeat him by simply smiting him like other demons Hell has been sending to Earth so I had to get creative.”

Raphael hums, finally letting go of his arm. “Flawless plan, if he ever gets found out by Hell, it's of no consequence to us anyhow. They’ll deal with him and we’ll still have a head start on them.”

Janiel grins sardonically. “Precisely.” Inside, he wants to run.

“Brilliant, you’re a fine strategist. I do understand now why you think Earth is so entertaining. My, my, making a demon believe he could be forgiven, it would almost be cruel,” the Archangel muses. Janiel stiffens ever so slightly — he remembers another demon uttering similar sentiments. “But oh well, She cast them out for a reason, and it is not to take them back when the war descends upon us no matter how much they try to grovel. It benefits us, at the very least.”

The Seraphim remains quiet for a couple of moments, eyes narrowing as they observe Raphael. “Out of curiosity, have you talked to anyone about this…? I was hoping to talk about it to Gabriel myself and perhaps earn a promotion, you know.”

“Oh, no worries, I figured you’d want your moment of glory, you always do,” Raphael answers easily. Janiel winces, not really eager to remember how boastful he used to be about his stars. “Do you need me to set up a meeting right about now?”

“No, no!” Janiel refuses. “I will do so myself in time, once I’m sure I have the demon under my grip. He’s amenable right now but who knows...” This wasn’t a lie, at least. Janiel has grown used to Astrophel’s hot-and-cold attitude although he is hopeful it is bound to change now that they’ve cleared the air.

“Of course, of course, you can never be too careful with these demons.”

Janiel smiles blandly as a dark thought starts brewing in his mind.

So his liaison with Astrophel is still safe, go figure Raphael, as observant as ever, would be the first one to notice rather than Gabriel or Michael or even Metatron. This means that to keep the secret safe…

He will need another favour from Astrophel soon enough, he reckons. And perhaps he can give him one in return, he muses.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

5th June >> Mass Readings (USA)

Saint Boniface, Bishop, Martyr 

on

Wednesday, Ninth Week in Ordinary Time.

Wednesday, Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the feria (Wednesday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 2 Timothy 1:1-3, 6-12 Stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the laying on of my hands.

Paul, an Apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God for the promise of life in Christ Jesus, to Timothy, my dear child: grace, mercy, and peace from God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord. I am grateful to God, whom I worship with a clear conscience as my ancestors did, as I remember you constantly in my prayers, night and day. For this reason, I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord, nor of me, a prisoner for his sake; but bear your share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God. He saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to his own design and the grace bestowed on us in Christ Jesus before time began, but now made manifest through the appearance of our savior Christ Jesus, who destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel, for which I was appointed preacher and Apostle and teacher. On this account I am suffering these things; but I am not ashamed, for I know him in whom I have believed and am confident that he is able to guard what has been entrusted to me until that day.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 123:1b-2ab, 2cdef

R/ To you, O Lord, I lift up my eyes.

To you I lift up my eyes who are enthroned in heaven. Behold, as the eyes of servants are on the hands of their masters.

R/ To you, O Lord, I lift up my eyes.

As the eyes of a maid are on the hands of her mistress, So are our eyes on the LORD, our God, till he have pity on us.

R/ To you, O Lord, I lift up my eyes.

Gospel Acclamation John 11:25a, 26

Alleluia, alleluia. I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord; whoever believes in me will never die. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Mark 12:18-27 He is not God of the dead but of the living.

Some Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to Jesus and put this question to him, saying, “Teacher, Moses wrote for us, ‘If someone’s brother dies, leaving a wife but no child, his brother must take the wife and raise up descendants for his brother.’ Now there were seven brothers. The first married a woman and died, leaving no descendants. So the second brother married her and died, leaving no descendants, and the third likewise. And the seven left no descendants. Last of all the woman also died. At the resurrection when they arise whose wife will she be? For all seven had been married to her.” Jesus said to them, “Are you not misled because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God? When they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but they are like the angels in heaven. As for the dead being raised, have you not read in the Book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, how God told him, I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob? He is not God of the dead but of the living. You are greatly misled.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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Saint Boniface, Bishop, Martyr 

(Liturgical Colour: Red. Year: B(II))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading Acts of the Apostles 26:19-23 Christ proclaims light to both the Jews and the Gentiles.

Paul said: “King Agrippa, I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision. On the contrary, first to those in Damascus and in Jerusalem and throughout the whole country of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, I preached the need to repent and turn to God, and to do works giving evidence of repentance. That is why the Jews seized me when I was in the temple and tried to kill me. But I have enjoyed God’s help to this very day, and so I stand here testifying to small and great alike, saying nothing different from what the prophets and Moses foretold, that the Messiah must suffer and that, as the first to rise from the dead, he would proclaim light both to our people and to the Gentiles.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 117:1bc, 2

R/ Go out to all the world and tell the Good News. or R/ Alleluia.

Praise the LORD, all you nations; glorify him, all you peoples!

R/ Go out to all the world and tell the Good News. or R/ Alleluia.

For steadfast is his kindness toward us, and the fidelity of the LORD endures forever.

R/ Go out to all the world and tell the Good News. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation John 10:14

Alleluia, alleluia. I am the good shepherd, says the Lord, I know my sheep, and mine know me. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel John 10:11-16 A good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.

Jesus said: “I am the good shepherd. A good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. A hired man, who is not a shepherd and whose sheep are not his own, sees a wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away, and the wolf catches and scatters them. This is because he works for pay and has no concern for the sheep. I am the good shepherd, and I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I will lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.