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yayamrata · 23 days ago

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Chung Myung x Taoist priestess

Warning: mentions of blood, death, and religious activities.

Wc. 6.3k

You didn't understand the hype and praises they give to the plum blossom saint.

You’re a Taoist priestess but not the calm, silent type people expect. You talk back, roll your eyes, and don’t put up with anyone’s nonsense. Being a woman in a world where men stay on top, you need to show people that you're not someone they should look down on.

You live in a temple nestled up the mountain, where people come to you for blessings, healing, or answers about their future. Most of the time, you help them. You light incense, draw talismans, and try to act like a proper priestess. But the truth is, your role as a bit different from the others.

You were born with a gift or maybe a curse. The gods gave you the ability to see into someone’s future, but only if they want to know and are willing to give something in return. And that something?

A drop of their blood and giving up the most important treasure in their life.

Whether it's money, jewels, or even family heirloom. You need money to survive after all, and it shows willingness.

And they must walk on the right path in their life.

That’s how your visions start. One sip, and you see what’s ahead love, war, death, regrets. Not all of it is pretty. Which is why you rarely do it.

Then there’s the plum blossom saint. You heard him from rumours, from beggars who pray in your temple, from women who fawned over him whenever you buy food.

They said, he's Loud. Arrogant. A walking headache. He charges into fights like he’s invincible and talks like the heavens owe him something.

You concluded you hate him truly. Why? Well he ignores Taoist teachings like they’re optional, disrespects every quiet truth you’ve ever lived by, and thinks problems can be solved with a sword and a cocky grin.

At first you didn't believe those rumours but you find him down the market, drinking and eating like a glutton.

As a taoist priestess who holds the teaching in your heart, you concluded you already hate this guy.

You tried to stay away from him.

But unfortunately, buddah likes to play with you.

One afternoon, you’re sitting quietly in your temple when Chung Myung arrives without warning. He walks in like he owns the place. Your disciples tries to stop him but he just shrugs them off.

Nearby, a man is begging on his knees, offering money to you. “Please, priestess, read my future! I’ll pay anything.”

You look at the man calmly. “Not everyone deserves to see their future,” you say. “Only those who walk the right path can be granted that gift.” you hands clenched in anger,

‘This man is in severe debt, he wants to know the future if he will win another gamble he'll take tonight.’ you thought, you saw this man once outside a gambling place crying after he lost another game of Pai gow. Losing his only source of income.

You didn't notice you have an audience watching.

Chung Myung tilted his head with a smirk ‘Oh, now thats some strict rules’ his eyes bore down to your expression showing annoyance ‘Even a taoist priestess can make that face? thought only monks can do that’ he sneered remembering those bald heads who looked at him with those expression.

The man grunted face twisting In anger “What the hell does that mean?! I climbed this stupid mountain just for you to say no?”

You glared down at him, frowning and showing your displeasure “Then climb back down. The gods won’t speak to someone who tries to force answers.”

“You’re just a scammer in fancy robes!” He lunges. Fast. But before he can even harm you with a hidden blade.

You immediately grab a hidden dagger under the rug for instances like this.

Chung Myung who was quick, jumps between you and the attacker, pulling his sword and blocking the strike.

The man grunted falling on his back “What the–”

“Back off,” Chung Myung glared down at him.

The man freezes as he sees the symbol on his clothes ‘that symbol! The Mount Hua sect!’ in fear he runs away.

The grip on your daggers loosen and hide it under the rug. A priestess cannot be seen with a weapon to hurt someone.

“Who are you?”

You sat again comfortably, You looked at the person who saved you. “And Why did you help me?”

“Chung Myung, a disciple from Mount Hua” He looked down at you, smirking. As he insert his sword back “I want something from you, and i'm sure you already knew what”

You stared at him, seeing him up close. His qi is different from every swordsman who visits you. But after what happened you needed a break.

You raise your left hands “Come back the next day, I'm tired”

Chung Myung froze, it was silent for a minute before his fingers pointed at you. His mouth open “Hey! I just saved you!”

You stood up turning your back “I didn't ask you”

Chung Myung felt his veins pop, surely a taoist likes you know how to pay back right? You're a priestess after all. “Fine I'll come back” he sighed, scratching his head.

He kicked a stone like a kid before heading down the mountain.

You turned your head to look at him, of course you won't let him see you tomorrow. After all, there's something about him that makes you want to avoid seeing his fate.

--------------------

The next day, you made your way down the mountain to attend the wedding of a wealthy merchant. He had asked for a blessing from the mountain priestess or you to give his marriage good fortune and spiritual peace.

At first, you were going to turn him down. You didn’t like leaving the temple, and you didn’t perform blessings for just anyone. But when he offered money and promised support for your temple, you couldn’t refuse.

The girls back home were running low on clothes and food. You needed help money, resources, influence–anything to protect the women you raised and taught. This was one of the few ways to do that.

So now, you stood in the middle of a grand celebration, your robes neat and your sleeves hiding the way your nose scrunched at the strong smell of alcohol.

The loud music, the laughing guests, it wasn’t your kind of place. But you stayed composed, letting your sleeve mask your discomfort.

After the celebration, the newlyweds led you to a quiet, private room at the back of the estate. They knelt before you, hands pressed together, eyes full of hope.

You stood in front of them. Then, with a soft voice, you began your prayer.

“May your love continue to bloom, like flowers in early springs. Walk toward the right path, find happiness with balance, don't fall into temptations that will ruin oneself.”

The couple bowed their heads deeply, tears slipping down their cheeks. They stayed like that while you moved around them slowly, swinging the incense burner in gentle circles. Smoke curled through the air, cleansing the space with each step.

Once the ritual was finished, the couple placed a lacquered offering box in front of you. You accepted it and bowed politely, and left the room.

Not a single emotion showed on your face.

But inside, you were already thinking of how much rice that box could buy. How many coats you could sew. How many nights the girls could sleep full and warm.

You didn't do this for glory.

You did it to keep them safe.

After the wedding, you walked back to the mountain early. Your feet ached a little, but the sight of your home made the walk feel lighter.

As soon as you stepped inside the temple gates, soft lantern light greeted you–and so did the voices of the girls.

“Priestess, congratulations on the successful ceremony! We prepared dinner for you!” said one of the older girls, the one who often took the lead caring for the younger ones. Her eyes sparkled with pride.

You blinked, surprised to see them still awake at such a late hour. But seeing their faces, their smiles, something inside you softened.

You handed her the offering box gently and gave her a warm smile. “Place this inside my room.” You paused, looking at all of them. “I can take care of myself. You kids go to sleep.”

The older girls nodded right away, used to following your words without question. But the little ones didn’t move.

They just stood there, tugging softly at your robe with sleepy eyes, waiting.

You sighed quietly, letting out a small chuckle, then crouched down. You pressed gentle kisses on each of their foreheads one by one. The little girls giggled and blushed before scurrying off to their shared room, finally ready to sleep now that their goodnight ritual was complete.

Once the temple fell into silence again, you went to your room and sat down for dinner. Alone.

The food was still warm steamed rice, pork with sweet sauce, and a little bowl of pickled vegetables. It smelled good. You should be grateful. You were grateful.

Your life was filled with blessings. A safe temple. Loving girls who looked up to you. Peace on the mountain.

And yet why did it still feel so empty sometimes?

You looked around the quiet room. No voices. No laughter. No one to sit with. No hand reaching across the table.

You were growing older. Still unmarried. Still celibate by choice. You had always chosen this path... or maybe it was just the only one you saw.

Your hand moved suddenly right against your cheek. The chopsticks slipped from your fingers and dropped into the bowl with a dull sound.

Your face warmed, but not from the hit.

It was the realization.

You craved to be loved.

You stared down at your food. “I’m already surrounded with love,” you whispered in your head, trying to convince yourself.

But the truth lingered. You were loved deeply by the girls you raised. But it was different.

It wasn’t the kind of love that filled that void.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try looking. Just a little. For someone. Whether it was a man or a woman. You didn’t care. You just wanted someone who could sit with you when the temple turned quiet. Someone to fill that small, aching space in your heart.

Maybe it was just the wedding today, making you feel like this.

Still, the thought stayed.

--------------------

The very next day the swordsman visited, clearny angry after you ditched him yesterday.

As you were sweeping the temple courtyard, you heard heavy footsteps stomping up the mountain path–fast and angry. You didn’t even have to look.

You already knew it was Chung Myung.

He stormed in, arms swinging, hair messy, eyes locked on you like you personally ruined his life.

“You said to come back tomorrow!” he snapped the moment he saw you.

You didn’t even flinch. You kept sweeping calmly. “But I didn’t say I was going to be here.”

He looked like he was about to explode. “What kind of answer is that?! I waited up here like an idiot!”

You shrugged, not looking at him. “You’re the one who listened. That’s on you.”

Chung Myung threw his hands in the air. “Then read my future.or something! Make up for it!”

You stopped sweeping and turned to him with a straight face. “No.”

He blinked. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I don’t want to,” you said plainly.

“You don’t want to? What kind of priestess are you?”

“The kind that doesn’t deal with annoying sword freaks who yell at her first thing in the morning.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out at first. Then he pointed at you, offended. “I’m not annoying!”

You raised a brow.

“…All the time,” he mumbled.

Just as he was about to launch into another complaint, a chorus of little feet pattered behind you.

A group of tiny girls ran out of the temple and surrounded Chung Myung, frowning up at him with puffed cheeks and narrowed eyes.

“Stop yelling at our priestess!” one of the smallest ones said, crossing her arms like you always did.

“You’re too loud!” another added. “She just got back!”

Chung Myung froze, clearly caught off guard by the army of angry children.“I- what- no, I wasn’t yelling at her, I was just–” he tried to explain, backing up a little.

“Apologize!” one of the girls demanded, tugging at his sleeve.

You watched from behind them, lips twitching into a rare smile.

“You girls are very brave,” you said warmly. “You protected your priestess well.” They lit up at your praise, standing taller like proud little guards.

Chung Myung, meanwhile, stood there, defeated by toddlers. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

You just chuckled softly and went back to sweeping.

Ever since that day, Chung Myung started showing up. Every single day.

He’d stroll up the mountain like it was his own backyard, sometimes with snacks, sometimes with a bottle of wine tucked into his sleeve, and always with that smug, annoying grin.

You’d be sweeping the courtyard, trimming the herbs, or guiding the girls through morning meditation, and there he’d be leaning against a pillar, watching like he belonged there.

“If you don’t stop showing up uninvited, I swear I’ll hit you with a broom,” you warned, not even looking at him.

Chung Myung snorted. “What kind of priestess are you? Shouldn’t you be full of kindness and inner peace?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Shut up.”

He laughed, clearly enjoying your annoyed expression. He liked getting on everyone's nerves.

Sometimes, when the girls were napping or doing chores, he’d drag you away from your work. You’d scold him the entire time, but somehow still ended up sitting on the temple steps next to him, watching the sky while he sipped his drink.

You cleared your throat, covering your nose from the alcoholic stench “I told you not to drink here”

Chung Myung shrugged, closing his eyes to taste his favourite expensive wine. After He drunk he gasped and wiped his mouth “Can't, I like drinking here. The god will forgive me”

You’d threaten him with your broom again. He’d call you heartless.

And yet, neither of you ever actually walked away.

The girls started getting used to him. They no longer hid behind your robes when he came–now they waved, giggled, and even offered him sweets. He was rough and loud, but he made them laugh, and that said more than words.

And somehow, without you realizing it, his presence didn’t feel so out of place anymore, It felt normal.

--------------------

You were lighting the last incense stick of the night when you heard footsteps soft ones, not the clumsy, loud kind the girls made when they snuck around.

You turned around, your eyes widened in suprise.

There he was again. Chung Myung.

But this time, it wasn’t the usual loud, teasing version of him. He wasn’t grinning or tossing casual insults. He just stood there, hands behind his head, looking unusually calm.

“What are you doing here? It’s late,” you asked, setting the incense aside.

“I was bored,” he said, but the tone was too quiet to be real.

You gave him a look but didn’t push it. Instead, you motioned to the temple steps. He followed and sat beside you without a word.

For a while, it was silent. The temple behind you was quiet–everyone was already asleep.

Then Chung Myung spoke, catching your attention. “Why’d you become a priestess?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. You turned to him, then asked back, “Why’d you become a swordsman?”

He hummed before answering “Mount Hua raised me. I didn’t have anything else. So, I picked up a sword. I owe everything to them.”

You smiled faintly at that. “I’m the same.”

He glanced at you, curious evident in his eyes.

“A wandering priest took me in when I had nowhere to go,” you explained. “He raised me like his own. Taught me everything I know. I became his disciple. After he passed, I took over the temple. That’s when I started reading fates for those who seek guidance.”

Chung Myung leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the stars. “Huh sounds kinda heavy.”

“It is,” you said softly.

He turned his head toward you again, then asked bluntly, “Can you read my future now?”

“No.”

The answer came out flat, quick, without hesitation.

He stared at you for a second, then groaned. “You didn’t even think about it!”

“I don’t need to. The answer’s still no,” you replied, looking straight ahead, pretending to ignore the way he kept pouting beside you.

He muttered something under his breath, clearly annoyed, but didn’t leave.

And even though you didn’t say it, a small part of you was glad he came. But you will never admit it.

--------------------

The next day you took a break, after reading fate after fate for hours, your head felt heavy, and your body was tired.

You stepped outside the temple for some fresh air, sitting quietly by the wooden seats with a warm cup of tea in your hands.

The girls were inside cleaning, chatting among themselves. You enjoyed this peace, a perfect time to clear your mind.

Until a shadow loomed over you.

You didn’t even need to look up.“Don’t–”

Before you could finish the warning, strong arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you right off the ground.

“Chung Myung!” you snapped, legs kicking slightly as your teacup nearly flew out of your hand.

“Time for a break,” he said, grinning like a bandit who just stole treasure. “You looked like you were starting to grow moss.” he stole the cup from your and put it on the table.

“Put me down!” you swayed your legs.

“Nope.” He chuckled.

The girls rushed out in a panic. “Let go of our priestess!”

“Where are you taking her?!”

“Kidnapper!”

But Chung Myung just laughed, not stopping at all. “I’ll bring her back before nightfall, I swear!”

“You better!” one of the older girls scolded, shaking a slipper at him.

“I’m keeping her fed and away from boring prayers and doom readings for the day. Don’t cry too much without her!”

You kept hitting his back with your fists. “I can walk, you lunatic!”

“But this is more fun,” he replied casually.

Despite your protests, the breeze on your face, the warm sun, and the way his laugh echoed up the mountain made it hard to stay truly mad. You hated how your lips twitched, holding back a smile.

Chung Myung dragged you all the way down the mountain to a small food stall. The scent of grilled pork and steamed buns made you hungry.

He plopped down like he owned the place, already ordering food without asking you.

You sat across from him, adjusting your robes with a sigh. “You could have just told me, you know.”

He didn’t even look up as he stuffed his mouth with pork. “You would’ve said no.”

You stared at him. “Fair. But why me?”

He shrugged, still chewing. “Why not? At this point, we’re friends now.”

You weren’t convinced. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned back. No man would ever be friends with a woman if there's no ulterior motive. “You just want me to read your future.”

He snorted, nearly choking on his food. “You’re so sharp, priestess!”

You sighed and glanced at the food being set down in front of you. Warm rice, pork belly, pickled radish. It smelled too good to ignore.

“I’m already here now,” you muttered, picking up your chopsticks. “Might as well eat”

“That’s the spirit–”

“But I still won’t read your future.”

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue, defeated for now, but grinning anyway.

Even as you ate in silence while he tells you a story, this weird friendship was becoming something real.

Chung Myung already knew you before you learned about him.

At first, he thought you were just another priestess with duties to pray and bless the land. But the more he came by, the more he started to notice.

He saw the way your smile dropped the second the little girls turned their backs.

How your shoulders sagged just a bit when you thought no one was looking. How your eyes, even when you were surrounded by laughter and warmth, still held something. It was loneliness.

Chung Myung wasn’t stupid. He saw it.

You were strong–annoyingly so. Smart, sharp-tongued, full of weird rituals and ancient teachings. But even with all your power, you looked like someone carrying too much alone. Then he found out what you were doing.

That the temple wasn’t just some quiet place to chant prayers. It was a home. A place where you took in little girls with no family, girls who had nowhere else to go.

You raised them, fed them, taught them Taoist teachings and how to live with peace and discipline.

You weren’t just a priestess, you were their mother.

You taught them how to meditate, how to cook, how to sweep, how to heal. And when they grew older, they stayed–not out of duty, but out of love. They cleaned, helped out with ceremonies, and guided the younger ones.

You never asked for praise. Never asked for help. You just kept going. And something about that hit him in the chest.

Chung Myung saw you really saw you and something inside him twisted.

Because even if you had all those girls, all those people relying on you, it was clear.

No one was taking care of you.

And even though he didn’t understand it fully, didn’t know what it meant yet. He wanted to be the one to do it.

But right now, he's enjoying the way your eyes shine when he's with you.

--------------------

After a meal with Chung Myung, he walked you back to the Mountains. It was already night time, you enjoyed your travels with him too much.

Chung Myung was a few steps ahead, casually humming with his hands behind his back. You had just finished teasing him for eating too much when a sound cut through the wind.

It was full of screaming your heart dropped. Then came the desperate voices, faint but getting louder with each step.

“Priestess!”

“Help us!”

“Protect the little girls!”

Your blood ran cold you didn’t wait. You hiked up your robes and ran, faster than you ever had, sandals skidding against the dirt path as your heart pounded in your chest.

You barely registered Chung Myung yelling your name behind you before he ran ahead in a blur, sword already in hand.

When the temple finally came into view, your breath caught. There was a smoke.

The gates were cracked open, like someone break through–broken pots, scattered offerings, torn clothes. A group of armed bandits had pushed into the courtyard, some grabbing valuables, others threatening your girls.

You saw one of the older girls shielding the younger ones, her arms spread wide.

“Get back!” she screamed. “Don’t touch them!”

The little girls were crying, huddled behind her, clinging to each other.“Priestess!”

The second they saw you, the older ones called out, like you were the last hope they’d been waiting for.

You weren’t a fighter, your hands were meant for prayer, for blessing, for writing–not for holding weapons.

But that didn’t stop you. Not when you saw one of the bandits grab the arm of the eldest girl who tried to protect the others. Not when the younger ones screamed behind her. Your heart beat so loudly it drowned out everything else.

Your eyes landed on a shard of broken glass from a broken cup. Your hands trembled as you picked it up.

You didn’t know what you planned to do, maybe distract him, maybe just scream loud enough to buy time but you gripped that shard like it was your only lifeline. You stepped forward, heart in your throat.

But before you could take a single strike.

You saw movement so fast, so graceful, you almost didn’t see it.

In an instant, a thin arc of light bloomed in the air like falling petals.

The bandit’s arm twisted unnaturally as he cried out and dropped his weapon, staggering back. He hit the ground before he even understood what had happened.

You blinked owlishly trying to understand what happened.

There, standing between you and the bandit with his sword in hand, was Chung Myung. His eyes were glaring daggers focused only on the enemy. His sword glowed faintly in the dusk light, petals of pure energy trailing in the air where he’d moved. It was beautiful but at the same time it was terrifying. The Plum Blossom Sword Style.

Your breath caught in your throat, so this… this was why they called him the Plum Blossom Saint.

Not because of titles or reputation. But because in the middle bloodshed and fear, his sword bloomed like spring. Chung Myung stood over the bandit, sword raised.

The bandit was sprawled on the ground, scrambling backward with fear in his eyes, blood dripping from a wound on his arm. The other bandits immediately left running from their lives once realizing who their up againts with.

You knew that look on Chung Myung’s face. It was the face of someone ready to end things quick.

“Chung Myung,” you called gently

He didn’t lower his sword, you stepped closer, your fingers still trembling from the broken glass you’d dropped. “Don’t kill him.”

He glanced back at you. “He tried to hurt your girls. He would’ve–”

“I know,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “But I don’t want any blood spilled in this temple. Not even his.”

Chung Myung stared at you like he couldn’t understand. “He’s a demon in human skin.” the plum blossom saint was ruthless even in a holy place.

“Even so,” you breathed. “I don’t want my children to grow up seeing death. Especially not here this temple is their home. Their safe place.”

Your gaze met his. “Please.”

Finally, Chung Myung’s grip on his sword loosened. He sighed, muttering something under his breath as he stepped back. “You’re too soft,” he grumbled.

But you saw it, the way his sword lowered and returned to its sheath.

The bandit, seeing his chance, scurried to his feet and fled, tripping over broken wood as he ran into the woods. You didn’t chase him. You didn’t care about revenge.

You turned back to the girls, who were huddled in the corner watching everything with wide, frightened eyes.

You walked over and crouched down, wrapping your arms around them. “Shhh, I'm right here, you're okay” You cooed, calming down the girls that hugged you tightly.

“Mama..” the younger one cried, and that made you teared up.

You buried your face unto your eldest daughter whos trembling “Im here, my daughters”

Chung Myung watched you quietly, and maybe, he started to understand why you lived the way you did.

--------------------

It had been a few weeks since the attack, and things at the temple slowly began to settle. The older girls worked harder than before, repairing what they could. The little ones followed your steps with even more devotion now, clinging to your sleeves like ducklings.

As you grow oldl, Chung Myung kept showing up uninvited. But no one minded anymore. The girls even started calling him "Uncle Chung," which made him choke on his tea the first time they did it.

The two of you sat outside under the sun, you passed him a steamed bun, which he took without complaint.

“I have a friend from the Tang clan. Real annoying guy. Knew everything, hes good at fighting.” he said between bites.

You glanced over at him with mild curiosity. “Tang clan? The poison experts?”

“Yeah.” Chung Myung leaned back, arms behind his head. “You’d probably like him. He sometimes feeds me poison”

You let out a soft chuckle. “Sounds like someone I wouldn’t mind meeting.”

Chung Myung looked at you, sweat forming on his forehead “I told him about you, he said to leave you alone but no, free will exist”

You felt your veins pop “Yeah we'd get along”

Chung Myung smirked to himself. Then, out of nowhere, he asked “Can you–”

“No.”

He blinked. “I didn’t even finish.”

“You were going to ask me to read your future again,” you said flatly.

Chung Myung looked away, whistling like he was innocent. “You’re too sharp, priestess.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. “ Because you’re too predictable, Saint.”

--------------------

Lately, you found yourself looking forward to his visits more than you cared to admit. You're on old woman now, but your face barely had any wrinkles. Maybe its because you're different from any human that's why your body still looks young.

Well you are different, there's no way in hell a woman can see someone's future is normal.

And its also not normal to suddenly admire a friend. His long dark hair, always tied up, catching the sunlight when he walked. The pink in his eyes that you used to find unnatural, now oddly mesmerizing. His lean but strong build, the kind that made you feel odd.

And his laughter, it wasn’t often loud, but when it came, it was warm. The kind of sound that made your chest feel lighter.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until his voice cut in.

“You’re staring, priestess,” he said with that annoyingly smug smirk of his. “Is there something on my face?”

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck to your ears. “No,” you said quickly, eyes darting away. “My apologies, I trailed off sometimes”

He grinned. “Just say you find me attractive”

You smacked his arm, flustered but trying to save face. “Shut up.”

But even as you turned away, your heart thumped a little louder in your chest.

Because you didn’t mind being caught staring. If you get to enjoy moments like this with him.

As you grew you learned that nothing lasts forever. But you wanted to be with him until your last breath.

--------------------

Whispers from wandering merchants, hushed conversations between temple visitors, even the girls who went down the mountain for supplies heard it.

“The Heavenly demon is alive.”

“They say they'll attack soon–burn everything to the ground.”

You stood still as the whispers swirled in your head, lips slightly parted. ‘Alive?’

The name "Demonic cult" itself turned your blood cold. It was a name mothers used to warn children. And if they truly lived again the world would bleed.

Your thoughts immediately went to your girls. The little ones, the older disciples. All their laughter. Their futures.

Your chest tightened. Would your temple and daughters be safe?

Your mind trailed to Chung Myung.

You hadn’t seen him for days now. Maybe longer.

He always came by, even just to drink and annoy you. But now there was only silence.

You looked out toward the path he always walked from. But there was nothing.

And yet, something told you he knew.

Something told you he was preparing for what was to come.

Still, that didn’t stop your heart from aching. From worrying. From wondering if the Saint who always made you laugh was out there getting ready to face something.

You clutched the prayer beads in your hand and whispered a silent plea to the heavens "Keep him safe."

You kept praying for the deities for guidance and blessings for protection.

And they answered by sending Chung Myung, he came back to meet you again after many weeks.

The girls scurried about the temple, whispering behind their sleeves as they prepared tea. But their eyes kept darting toward the main room where you and Chung Myung sat. Not one of them went too far, clearly lingering just outside the door, eavesdropping with all the subtlety of kittens trying to tiptoe.

Chung Myung didn’t seem to care. He leaned back comfortably, arms crossed as he stared at you with that usual cocky grin.

“Well,” he said casually, “we’ll be going to a war. Thought I’d visit you before I go. Pray for us, priestess.”

You kept your posture straight, hands folded tightly on your lap but your fingers dug into your thighs so hard they trembled beneath the fabric.

“I understand,” you said, voice soft. “I’ll pray every day.” Your words shook slightly, and that didn’t escape him.

Chung Myung’s grin faltered, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Hey,” he said more gently, “don’t worry. I’m not going to die.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust his strength. But your chest ached.

“We cannot be sure,” you whispered, and when you opened your eyes, you looked at him straight on. “Unless…”

His eyes lit up like a child who just won a game. “You’ll read my future?!”

You gave a single nod. “Give me your hand.”

He did so without hesitation, you reached under the nearby rug and pulled out the small dagger hidden beneath.

The moment the cool blade grazed his skin and drew a shallow line of red, he didn’t flinch.

He just watched you.

And when you leaned forward and licked the drop of blood from his palm your lips brushing the wound, it was a sacred act.

For him, it was a ritual, something you do normally.

But for you it was a kiss, a yearning one. You were going to miss him. As you taste the familiar iron taste of blood, a taste you always hated but for him. You'd do it again and again to make sure he's safe.

Chung Myung tilted his head, teasing you. “Don’t you need offerings or something?”

You shook your head gently. “It’s optional,” you murmured. “The blood isn’t. And you… you walk on the right path.”

His gaze lingered on your face a moment longer, as if trying to read your expression. But you had already closed your eyes.

And there, in the dark stillness of your mind, with his blood on your tongue , you saw his future. His fate.

The moment the future revealed itself to you, your heart dropped.

You saw Chung Myung, standing tall against the darkness. His other arm was gone.

His blade beheaded Cheonma, he won, he defeated the enemy who threatened everything.

But he died, too.

Alongside the swordsmen of Mount Hua, his brothers, his family. Their spirits faded like petals in the wind, gone before their time.

You’d seen countless fates before. Cruel deaths. Lonely ends. Even the fall of empires, but this…

This wasn’t the same.

This was someone you loved.

Your lips trembled, but you swallowed your cries. Now wasn’t the time. He didn’t need fear in his heart or worries clinging to his back when he left for war.

So you took a breath, stood up straight, and bowed deeply–so low your forehead nearly touched the ground.

“You’ve done well,” you said, voice steady even though it burned. “We’ll keep praying for Mount Hua’s safety. Thank you, Chung Myung.”

He frowned, showing confusion in his face, he gently pulled your arms to lift you.

“What did you see?” he asked hurriedly.

You gave him the softest smile, the kind people wear before breaking. “Come back,” you spoke, as if you were begging.

“and I’ll tell you.”

Then, before you could stop yourself, you hugged him tightly, your face hidden in his robes. You just needed to hold him, even just once.

He didn’t hug you back. He stood still, silent. He pulled your arms away. And then he walked away without a word.

You stood there until the door slid closed behind him. Your knees gave out, the girls rushed in, eyes wide and scared.

“Priestess?”

But you couldn’t answer them. Not now.

Because you were mourning.

Mourning someone who hadn’t died yet.

And you weren’t sure whether to cry or pray harder.

Because death was inevitable.

No matter how many prayers you offered, no matter how many rituals you performed, the war still ended in blood.

The world rejoiced for peace, praising the other sect who defeated them–but you wept.

Chung Myung did not return.

Mount Hua was never the same. Once so proud and full of life, now it stood quietly, hollowed by loss. Only a few survived, carrying stories of a man who fought like no other.

You never forgot him.

Even as the years passed and your hair turned white, even as your body weakened and your steps slowed, you never forgot the way his smile curved just a little higher on the left. Or how his voice sounded when he teased you. Or how safe you felt every time he walked through your temple.

You ignored every man that came after. Every proposal. Every flutter of affection from others. You stayed loyal to the dead.

The priestess who never married. The woman who lived in the mountains raising daughters not her own. That’s what they would call you.

But you were more than that.

You were someone who loved quietly and deeply.

And now, your time had come.

You lay in your bed, the same one where you once cried for him. Surrounded by the girls you raised into strong, gentle women. Some now mothers themselves, holding their daughters' hands beside you.

“Priestess,” one of them whispered, voice shaking.

You smiled weakly, the same warm smile they had grown up with. “Don��t cry. I’m just going home.”

They held your hands.

You took one last breath.

And finally, you were at peace.

You closed your eyes awaiting his presence in heaven.

“Sajael, why are you staring like that at the food?”

You blinked looking at the boy with a scar in his face.

“Sajae? Y/N? I know the food sucks but you gotta eat” says the man beside him with long black hair.

You looked down at the food in front of you “Okay”.

You grabbed your chopsticks with only one thought in mind.

‘WHERE AM I??’

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yayamrata · 29 days ago

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Omg omg omg i just had a realisation

In the novel Chungmyung's eyes are described as blue (and they were changed in the manhwa for design reasons), and it was especially emphasized when they first met General Han in the north sea, that blue eyes are actually very rare in the Central plains.

And Chungmyung's name means "Clear skies" right?

Which means that someone looked at this lil baby and decided to name him after his unique eyes, ohhh i wanna cry that is so cute😭😭😭

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yayamrata · 30 days ago

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Hi! I saw you asking the account @bravegargoyleharmony for more commission infos. The same account wants a comm from me too and I've had similiar asks like these. The person never writes a lot, never asking for anything specific. I just wanted to let you know this is likely a scam, so better be wary...I never fell victim to it but I heard there's some kind of paypal scam even after they pay you. Most people that are serious about a comm will ask you for an OC or a fav char or scene! :)

Omg Hii, I was acc beginning to think it was scam too bc I came across some comments that asked about a commission and wrote a p.s that they’re not a scam. So I suspected it was a scam too, and I did message the person for more info since I had never done a commission before and wanted to know a little more, but they never replied back 😭

Thank you for letting me know and confirming my thoughts!! 🫶🫶

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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BLEEDING HEART

Itoshi Rin

summary: rin meets a ghost-like girl mid crash out session

warnings and contents: angst, sibling angst, rin is really sad, rin can’t stand sae, fluff to come?, sae is not a monster.

notes: this is my first time posting my writing on tumblr, the title colour thing took me so long to do but I’m kinda proud of it, I tried to be aesthetic but I should rlly be revising for my exams instead. I had this in my notes app for a while and was writing this to my friend bc she loves rin sm but anyway I wanted to make this a long one shot but I’ll just post this first part anyway, it’s A WRITING DEBUT, this part is like an introduction idk anyways hope u enjoy! I want to write more on tumblr after my exams after the 20th June (originally used to write on wattpad but I’m moving on…)

word count: 3660

“One kind word can warm three winter months.”

The Japanese proverb was well liked amongst its folks, carrying a meaning so self-explanatory, it required only but minimal effort to understand.

What a bunch of lukewarm bullshit.

Rin himself didn’t particularly hate proverbs. They were a good literacy device, and being the ‘old soul’ he was, (a trait acquired from being the kin of his big brother) there were days where these adages were a means of catharsis for the young Itoshi; something that helped him revisit his past feelings of sorrow and rage.

However, this fact did not by any means indicate that he was overly fond of them either.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

It was an English dictum he became familiar with, one he’d come to know from all the restless evenings of studying the universal language. Rin knew better than anyone how the ability to communicate with foreign athletes was a necessary skill when playing on an international level. It was something that had briefly crossed him mind when his big brother had left for Spain.

How must it have been? How did it feel?

A young teen— a child, suddenly thrown in an unknown country, surrounded by unknown strangers who spoke an unknown tongue.

Rin wondered how Sae had managed it, but the boy didn’t dwell on the thought for long. Rin trusted Sae, his big brother. They didn’t need to communicate to empathise with the other. They were brothers who shared the same blood and as a result, were innately gifted with unspoken understanding of one another.

But Rin trusted his big brother.

What the hell had happened in Spain?

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

When Rin had first come across the phrase, his heart soared with delight, swelling so deeply with pride, he thought it may burst at the seams. Sae wasn’t his father, nor his mother.

Sae was his big brother— his nii-chan. And in some peculiar way, his parent.

Sae who always nursed and treated Rin’s cuts and bruises, never berating him for his otherwise troublesome actions, rather, cradling tenderly the hurting heart of his little brother.

Sae who never failed to buy Rin ice cream post games, whether it was a win or a loss, they enjoyed the other’s presence over a cool treat or in silence.

Sae was never absent in Rin’s life. Sae was a constant that promised to always be by the side of his little brother— his baby brother— for as long he lived.

There was a time when Rin had curiously inquired why it was always ice cream and not something else. And Sae, with his blunt, unfriendly, aloof demeanour had mentioned something about how the hormone that led to stress often decreased when people ate something sweet. Rin would absentmindedly nod along to the words of his big brother, whatever Sae said was his gospel, there was no point doubting it. Simply no merit in doing something so unnecessary.

Because Rin knew deeply within his soul, eating ice cream with his big brother was a form of consolation. Sae’s constipated way of consoling him.

So, the plain notion of him having similar characteristics to his big brother, his nii-chan who was the number one nicest in the whole world, and though the thought may much as well be considered a blasphemous act, Rin couldn’t help but drown in the surge of elation that pervaded his psyche.

From then on, Rin had mistakenly, like a fool blissfully nescient of his dooming end, claimed so impetuously that he loved proverbs — this one in particular, the one about apples and trees being the highest in his list of favourites.

But that was before Sae had returned from Spain. Before Rin’s life turned upside down. Before his world flipped over and came crashing down on him. Robustly, heavily, and remorselessly.

And now, eternally cursed with the uncanny resemblance of that wretched man, the mere reflection of himself had him reeling back, a grimace adorned with something in between disgust and fury painting the porcelain of his idyllic visage a hideous hue. Even in his rare expressions, Rin came to the spurning realisation that Sae, his big brother, will forever haunt him.

For as long as Rin lives, Sae, just like he promised, will forever be by his side.

The bygone days when the both were once ‘brothers’, when they both had so much in common will remain forever. Even now, despite that night of snow— the fateful day where nothing would be the same again, despite it all, they will forever share their similarities.

They, however, will never share the same dream again.

The young boy who wanted to be warmly enveloped by his big brother upon the latter’s return will ceaselessly remember the cruel, loathing and disavowing words of his nii-chan — the number one nicest in the whole world.

That night of snow, Rin let himself pitifully accept winter’s sympathy. Nature’s frigid air embosomed him, its hiemal embrace meticulously freezing the warmth that inspirited his heart, not his soul. For that innate kindness would always remain somewhere, unaware of when to resurface.

Rin didn’t avoid its biting presence like he usually would’ve. Usually, there would’ve been no need for the world’s futile affection, not when he solely had his big brother’s.

But— but now, he didn’t even have that anymore. He no longer had his brother’s affection. Not anymore.

“….”

Itoshi Rin hated proverbs.

He hated the English proverb about ‘the apple falling from the tree’. The young teen could no longer remember it correctly, forcing himself to forget something that used to be such a pivotal belief at some point in his life.

But even more so, he particularly hated this one Japanese proverb.

“One kind word can warm three winter months.”

Jaw taut, he blankly peered at the words before him. The aphorism largely painted with black ink on some discolouring banner. Each complex characters in the phrase standing proudly against the other. Every brushstroke meticulous and precise, finely drawn with a degree of sublimity that couldn’t help but draw in Rin’s elusive attention.

Rin hated calligraphy, finding the activity to be arguably the most pointless thing to ever come to existence (totally not because he was shit at it himself). But even an avid, faultfinding, captious critic like himself couldn’t triumph against the human instinct to stop and to admire the oeuvre.

No, he shook his head discontentedly. It wasn’t the penmanship that had him rapt, rather, it was the amalgam of words themselves that had gutted him hard in the stomach.

Chewing the bottom of his lip, he stared- no, glared at the symbols decorating the pennant. Internally nitpicking all the noticeable blemishes of the art piece that hung arrogantly on the railing, no mercy shown against the teen’s strict scrutiny.

And in spite of his pathetic attempts of asserting his dominance against an inanimate piece of decor, the epigram remained unaffected. Rather, it relentlessly glowered back at him. Standing high and smarmy, mocking him and his lukewarm situation.

And Rin, a mortal being, weak and feeble against perennial words, fell victim to its means of catharsis. And possibly at the worst time ever. Why now?! Damn it!

Eyes burning and throat congesting with an unidentified lump of melancholy, he swallowed with struggle and frantically searched for an escape in this foreign building. Desperately yet furtively, his head turned left, right, then left again, then behind him and back to his front, all in search for a glowing green light with a man in a running stance.

An exit. Brows furrowing at the route he need to take to get away from here, go somewhere far away, against the leering eyes of his peers, his legs moved with intent. Hasty and hurried, Rin, an athlete trained to be fast on his feet, stumbled occasionally on air, tripping over memories of the past that clawed at his heart persistently.

Narrowly avoiding all the other students leisurely passing by, he tried to stabilise his ragged breathing. An action he’d come to realise was for naught when it didn’t do much to improve his lousy predicament.

And with no proper haven in mind to rest his haywire heart, Rin was entirely consumed with his frenzied thoughts.

If Sae— if his big brother— if nii-chan had said one, just one kind word to me on that night of snow, would they have kept me warm for three months of winter?

It was something that Rin had frequently ruminated about. But no, instead, Sae, that damn bastard of a shitty brother, had to just go and spout not one, but a myriad of hateful words to him.

Would it have killed him to say something nice? Argh—! No… No! Dammit.. Damn it all! Forget him! Forget everything!

Now, with not one but a plethora of virulent remarks to remember his beloved nii-chan by, how many months will those callous words keep him cold for?

If one kind word can warm up three winter months, how many months will be cold from one unkind word? Definitely more than three since unpleasant information was often always recalled with a greater sense of vividness than pleasant information. And thus, how many more months of cold will Rin have to further endure to be able to finally move on?

I’ve lost count…

The gelidity nipped at the pallor of his skin, dyeing his milky complexion a feverish tint of coral, and if he felt the abrupt drop in temperature now that he was out of the school building, he didn’t let it show in his countenance. (Nonchalant king 🙏)

Perhaps, Rin couldn’t feel the bleak pang from the weather because he’d already been numb long ago from Sae’s unkind words.

“….”

It was however, when a speck of white invaded his peripheral vision that made him conscious of how chilly his surroundings had gotten.

Rin’s bottom lip wobbled, he was shivering from the cold, he told himself, definitely not from inhibiting his tears. And then his eyes swelled with an all too familiar fluid. They were just a reflex response to the incoming debris — the windy snow — he told himself.

Rin hated the snow, he hated how the intricate crystals fell delicately from above. He hated snow more than he hated calligraphy, more than he hated proverbs, but— but definitely not more than he hated his nii-chan.

The celestial precipitation meandered their way down from the blotchy, clusters of deep fluff, an obscure contrast against an even deeper, inky, black abyss. Rin thought momentarily they looked like stars in a night sky, and for an instant they didn’t look like the snow he hated so much.

Albeit the relief was brief.

The pelting of each snowflake was felt with a reverberant pang. And somehow, they had travelled skin deep, pervading their frigid hostility through each fibre of his being. They tugged and teared at his heartstrings, and Rin knew immediately, something— something was not right.

The snow, a physical reminder of his lack of value, will incessantly be there, looming a shadow of fear over his presence.

Rin has become, unnecessary… he knows, more than anyone, he knows best. He’s well aware of his uselessness.

And each year, the snow will return with its firmly fragile appearance, perhaps more vigorously so than the previous year, to cruelly remind him of his depreciating value.

How many years will your unkind words keep me cold for, nii-chan? It’s so cold... Please… stop haunting me nii-chan…

Itoshi Rin, reduced to a human being with no aims, no ambitions, no goals or any purpose, stood still. Unmoving and stiff. Finally, his pathetically pointless trek had come to a stop.

Rin didn’t know. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He never knew how to live on in solitary.

When he was with Sae, with his big brother, his nii-chan, his evermore, the naive Rin didn’t have to think about anything. He could very well be an airhead with his head hung high up in the clouds and Sae would always be there to guide him. Gentle and nurturing. But now, with him gone, no longer by his side like he sworn he’d be, what the hell was Rin supposed to fucking do? He knew nothing besides playing the blissfully ignorant fool.

Subconsciously, the troubled teen surfed through his memories, and like an epiphany an adherent would receive as tribute for their vehement loyalties, a boyish part of his psyche guided his frantic shadow into the solace of solitude.

Just like the phenomenon where a human’s life flashes before their eyes when faced with the threat of death to recall a memory that may help them avoid their demise, Rin, on the verge of tears, remembered a strange rumour he’d heard earlier today when he’d wistfully lingered around the occult club’s stand during today’s high school orientation day.

Something about a haunted field of undying flowers guarded by a restless soul.

Amongst the things he hated, Rin was not against playing horror games or immersing himself in horror movies. It was… a safe way to experience fear, a safe way to relieve nervous tension. Something he had to thank Sae for. Had it not been for him, Rin wondered what he would’ve done in a situation like this.

With possessed steps, Rin had arrived to the place of his sanctuary. A field, abandoned and deserted by its inhabitants lay before his blurry gaze. And there they stood in their full glory.

The infamous blooms rumoured to be standing sempiternal against obstruction of all sort.

With a shaky breath, Rin attempted to compose his lamenting emotions. Trudging closer to the strange flowers, his movements partly calculative with caution and the other impulsive from desperation, he was lead through the dark by the auburn flowers’ ambrosial, fragrant allure. That of which mellowly enveloped him in a serene caress, graciously inviting the angsty teen in to seek refuge in its forsaken glebe.

Rin’s fatigued eyes dilated at the sight that warmly welcomed him with opened arms. Was it aware? He pondered quietly with pursed lips. Was this accursed place conscious of his wish to retreat from mankind’s judgemental gaze?

“….”

Although one would’ve been left in perturbation at this strange event, Rin silently expressed his gratitude. Knees buckling under the pressure of sorrow and appreciation, he crouched down beside the blossoms that would soon become the sole witness of his lament.

With strangled sobs and ceaseless tears, Rin’s back trembled violently. Chest heaving, his heart clamoured against his ribs, snagging painfully at his overburdened lungs.

Why was he shaking so violently? Was it from the fall in temperature? Or was it was from his pathetic weeping? Then again, he was crying because of his nii-chan’s unkind words that have kept him cold for a while. So maybe it was a bit of both.

With a phlegmy sniff, a buried fragment of himself — his childish wonder — urged him to reach for the peculiar flowers. Brows raising slightly in awe, Rin blearily eyed their unusual form and marvelled at their pleasant softness.

The petals, cordate and rufescent, pendulously hung from their slender, arching stems; a whimsical display that resembled the playful parade of nature’s love notes. Swaying daintily in the evening winter breeze, they grew in eerie clusters, beckoning Rin closer into their somber hypnosis.

The boy wilfully listened to their hushed whispers of lost love and longing. He fleetingly contemplated whether he should put them out of their misery. These seldom flowers, continually spoken about with fear and discomfort for their unusual longevity and their inability to wilt, they were technically— they were technically a nuisance much like himself, right?

Rin, having been here today for only a few hours knew that much. Overhearing from others how these flowers were always persistently resistance against seasons they were normally supposed to wither in. If anything, they were closer to being weeds than blossoms of spring…

They were a familiar colour too. The rufous pigments disturbingly familiar to the hue of his hair.

Yeah, these flowers— no, these weeds, should be promptly taken care off. And Rin, he who harboured despairing sentiments of fury like no other, will destroy them. I’ll break them, no…! I’ll tear them to pieces! I’ll pluck them from their roots…! That way, they’ll have no chance of survival!

And in an attempt of self-preservation, to ease the drilling ache that threatened to ingurgitate his sanity, Rin, with a chillingly apathetic expression, grabbed a fistful of them by their lush, dark, fern-like leaves. His other hand, ready to spill blood, reached the guileless petals with malicious intent.

Hoo— hoo.

The velvety corollas, delicate and fragile, naive and innocent, were ruthlessly squeezed to a pulp at the murderous hands of Rin. Knuckles turning white from his unsympathetic clenching, the boy lost his rationality to his turbulent blood-thirst.

Hoo— hooo.

Twisting the lissom stems around his stiff hand, he plucked them slovenly from the moist soil, their roots only partially intact much to his chagrin. He clicked his tongue at the incompetent job, if Sae was here, what would he have to say about this?

Would he call him a lukewarm, tepid— gardener?! A useless, eyesore of a younger brother? A worthless, valueless, unnecessary—!

Determinedly, he dug through the dirt, nails clawing aggressively to search for the remaining roots and once he found it and pulled it out, Rin abruptly flinched when a noise of discomfort — falling in between a gargled groan and a scratchy sigh — reached his ears.

Suddenly, so suddenly, the flower resembling a bleeding heart instantly withered into a smooth pile of dust. The soot-like powder sieved through the gaps between his fingers and disappeared in the early evening gust. Wha… What the hell?!

“Eugh... It hurts..”

Like a culpable fool caught in the act of committing a heinous crime, the hair on Rin’s nape stood upright and unnerved. How the hell did a flower that was rumoured to be undying, wilt so instantaneously?

Flowers didn’t wilt like that right after they were plucked. But, but these were unusual flowers with an even more unusual being as its guardian.

Or was it the other way around..?

With dry eyes and a peeved expression, Rin slowly turned his head towards the source of the earlier sound, breath hitching at the figure that lay serenely on the ground, above the field of eccentric flowers exuding an aroma of ambrosia.

Gawking at the presence with incredulity, Rin’s mouth opened to give this nosey person a piece of his damn mind for having the audacity to sneak up on him during his moments of vulnerability, but his lips awkwardly thinned into a straight line when the words he wished to articulate were lodged in the back of his throat.

“…..”

The unidentified presence, a girl, seemingly close in age to him from her both her youthful appearance and the recognisable school uniform she sported, reposed there almost helplessly. Hair disorderly sprawled over her head in a magisterial halo, Rin observed with a hawk-like stare as her misty hand weakly clenched what he could only assume was her chest in pain.

Straining his ears to follow through with her expected tachypnea, Rin’s blood ran frigid when he was met with flatlining silence. A chill ran up his perturbed spine, cold sweat collecting by his temple as he audibly gulped. Did… did she just die on me?!

Furtively peeking from his vision-obstructing, ebony strands of hair, Rin marvelled at the quaintness of her skin. Stardust freckles illuminated her exposed limbs with a translucent glow under the moonlight rays, his ogling gaze roamed on them for an embarrassingly long time and his face flushed feverish when he caught himself in the indecent act.

Eyes bloodshot, brows furrowed and lips scowling, Rin forced his sight onto her slumbering visage. Her facial features, just like her hands and the freckles on her bare skin, were an eerie cluster of haze, reflecting the moon’s luminescence in an iridescent radiance.

Rin’s ears perked up when he heard her stir awake from her state of dormancy, and hoping to sate his curiosity, he watched with rapt attention as her eyes leisurely fluttered open. The sight of her waking up was strangely absorbing, and Rin’s heartbeat hastened when she turned to look his way. She— she’s alive!

Her squinting gaze remained unfocused as she used her elbows to leverage herself up.

“…..”

The careful walls Rin constructed with upmost forethought, crumbed pathetically when his eyes fell on the blemishes on her face. Discolouration born from her eyes meandered down to her cheeks in teary streaks and died on her pouty lips. That same discolouration was haphazardly smeared all over her palms and fingertips. And like the freckles on her body, these patches gleamed with whimsical opalescence.

When she had finally gotten accustomed to her surroundings, her sight, now firmly planted on Rin, stared blankly. Her mouth gaped in an attempt to speak, but rather than coherent words being sounded, a chocked scream echoed in the deathly silent field.

“Ah- AARGH!!”

“Huh..! Oi, you—“

“I-It’s—! It’s, monster! A monster—! Th-there’s a monster in front of me!!!”

Brow twitching in disbelief, irk markings materialising by his temple, Rin watched with clenched teeth and a deadpan expression as the girl hastily stumbled to her feet, tripping over imaginary obstructions in the midst of her escape to find seclusion in the darkness of the snowy evening.

“….Fucking dumbass,” he insulted under his breath, face scrunching in mild confusion when staring at the flowers that stood undisturbed despite having been carelessly treaded on earlier by the girl. But they were really fragile when I…

He abruptly shook his head to rid his absurd thoughts, the ephemeral snow and the mysterious flowers lone witnesses of his breakdown.

Hoo— hooooooo.

And the owl too, I guess…

@yayamrata please don’t plagiarise, steal, translate, or alter my work in any way, you may like it, reblog it and request for other characters. Uploads will be late bc of my exams.

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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Doing anything but revision 😞

#one piece #cat burglar nami #nami #one piece nami #op nami #nami fanart #fanart #anime and manga #artwork

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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Dear, I apologize for bothering you, but this is an urgent appeal from a mother of three girls from the northern Gaza Strip. We are now experiencing a state of exhaustion, oppression, and indescribable pain. We are lost in the streets, wandering aimlessly, without shelter, bread, or water. Everything available is expensive. All I do is cook grass to feed my girls. The most basic necessities of life are missing, and calls to stop this war are rising from my broken heart. In Gaza, we are fleeing from one death to another. Donate to my family and help us survive.

#gaza genocide #free palestine #free gaza #save palestine

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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15 May 2025.

A number of Palestinian children were severely injured in an Israeli air strike west of Khan Younis city.

ALL OF THEM ARE CHILDREN. ISRAEL IS TARGETING CHILDREN.

(source)

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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Co-founder of Ben and Jerry's got arrested at a Senate hearing for saying "Congress is killing kids in Gaza by buying bombs, and they're paying for it by kicking poor kids off medicaid in the US. They need to let food into Gaza." Which he continued to repeat throughout his arrest.

-fae

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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im in disbelief at the fact that a lot of folks are simply over palestine. like protests are dwindling down. people are not very interested in news related to gaza. some are simply over it.

israel hasn't let aid in gaza in 70 days. gaza has been starving for 70 days. the condition of people there is horrendous.

i find it distressing to think about children in gaza. how does one continue to have a childhood in a genocide? they don't have school. they don't have safety. they don't have food.

despite all this, the kids will be alright. they'll be alright once the genocide stops and they get back to 'normal'. till then, can we please try to support them however we can?

this fundraiser (verified) helps feed a family which includes two young children. please consider helping their mother take care of them.

donate here

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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Abdul Rahman is in ICU, suffering from severe burns.

I need help to buy his treatment before it’s too late.

Please, don’t leave him alone in this pain.

Donate here🔗🔗🙏🙏

My campaign is verified and trusted.

VERIFIED; #192 ON THE SPREADSHEET BY @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi

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yayamrata · 1 month ago

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tumblr marking palestinian fundraisers as explicit content... it's just another attempt by staff to silence and harm people living under a genocide.

like palestinians have had their entire lives disrupted and can never ever go back to the old 'normal'. they're still being killed while the privileged argue whether or not what they're going through is a genocide.

to try to hurt a person living in an active genocide is beyond inhumane. there's no way to justify it.

i request everyone to please continue helping palestinians. kindly consider donating to alaa, a mother of two young children. help her afford necessities in this very difficult time.

donate here (verified)

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