#only ever alluding to his former glory

[indigovigilance]

I was just reading through some of your meta, and was thinking about your one about Maggie being possessed by an angel. I was wondering if the fact that Nina is played by Nina Sosanya, who also played Sister Mary in season one, might be connected. I'm a bit late to the Good Omens series, has that ever been addressed? Seems odd to recast an actress as a different character in the same show, especially a show so detail orientated. Seeing as Maggie and Nina are mirrors for Aziraphale and Crowley, I'm idly wondering if they being secretly an angel, and former demon worshiper would simply would be to add an extra dimension, or if there is something more sneaky afoot. Like spies for each side watching the shop or some such.

Oh, my dear friend, it goes much deeper than that! Do not be bashful about arriving late to the game: I also did not watch S2 until about a month after it dropped, and didn't arrive on Tumblr until a month after that (literally made an account for the first time to join this fandom). The fact that I'm getting these asks at all is evidence enough that anyone can catch up. So here we go!

read on Ao3

(forgive the quality of some of these screengrabs, I'm having internet issues and Amazon is taking it out on the quality of my video)

Nina is played by Nina Sosanya, who in season 1 played Sister Mary Loquacious (I still love that name):

...and Maggie is played by Maggie Service, who in season 1 played a satanic nun as well, Sister Teresa Garrulous (inspired):

But the recycling of the first season's cast doesn't end there!

Shax is played by none other than the illustrious Miranda Richardson, returning after her delightful season 1 portrayal of Madame Tracy:

Reece Shearsmith plays Shakespeare in Season 1 and Furfur in Season 2:

Reece Shearsmith, Mark Gatiss who plays Mr. Harmony, and Steve Pemberton who plays Mr. Glozier, the [zombie] Nazis in both seasons,

worked together on the award-winning show League of Gentlemen. An article about it even appears on David Tennant's website (which I just found today, doing research for this response!). It's a fun little read, I recommend it for anyone who's interested in "the making of" type stuff.

Gatiss was also involved in Doctor Who, which is of course was (per my humble opinion) the crowning glory of David Tennant's career until he stepped into the snakeskin boots. The article indicates that all these actors have prior relationships with David Tennant and Michael Sheen and were very pleased to be cast for this show.

But notably, only Nina and Maggie are named after their actors. Given that they also play out a whole slew of fanfiction tropes (I don't think this connection has ever been written out in meta format but it is alluded to in various YouTube clipshows) it seems to be a Doylian *Clue* that something is a little bit wrong about these characters and their alleged romance.

Other than that, I think the fact that cast is being reused only tells us two things: First, these are wonderful actors and why go looking for new talent when you already have the best? Second, they love this work and they love working together on it, and the actors wanted to return just as much as Neil wanted them to continue bringing his vision to life.

I'm glad you enjoyed Maggie is Possessed, one of my very first metas! I can see that you are going in order along my meta index. If you would like to keep reading on this topic, others have contributed their thoughts on the subject, and I've linked some choice readings below:

Can't You Hear Them? by @vidavalor The Grand Unified Theory by @noneorother which addresses the slew of purportedly human characters that have oddly angelic/demonic traits What's Up with Maggie? - a chain started by @iammyownproblematicfave that I and others have contributed to

I hope that this line of inquiry gets more attention in the future. If you haven't already, the docs below are great resources to bookmark as they are constantly being updated by teams of dedicated clue-searchers:

Good Omens Crackpotting Theory Tracker Hunting for Clues

~~~

I love getting asks like this, thanks for giving me something to do while I wait for my laundry to finish. I'm so so happy that more people are arriving in this cuddly communal crucible of creativity, it's been a great community for me and I hope you join us on this whirlwind adventure of piecing together the million-piece jigsaw puzzle that Neil left for us to play with as we await Season 3!

#indigovigilance answers asks #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens maggie #good omens nina #shax #shax good omens #good omens meta #furfur #reece shearsmith #miranda richardson #madame tracy #good omens production

[cuthechicane]

okay fuck it we ball.

Red Bull Racing as the Hotel California: an Essay

(tw for genuine insanity under the cut)

there she stood in the doorway / I heard the mission bell: "she" — the rbr golden boy™. Historically there have only been two (Seb & Max); but "she" is also an ideal. There is only one golden boy at any given time; but the golden boy is not one person.

I was thinking to myself / this could be Heaven or this could be Hell: pretty self-explanatory.

then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way: the way — the road paved with gold and glory. It could be yours, if you wanted. If you're good enough.

plenty of room at the hotel california / any time of year / you can find it here: the red bull junior program with its 50,000 seats across different series. All fighting for four seats in f1 (realistically only three at the moment tbh), but only one is worth having.

such a lovely place / such a lovely face: the glamour of the red bull sports empire. The ephemeral mass-produced dream "red bull gives you wings".

we haven't had that spirit here since 1969: insert low effort joke about rbr only serving red bull energy drinks.

and still those voices are calling from far away / wake you up in the middle of the night / just to hear them say: ghosts of former trialed-and-errored rbr drivers. This is a very old story.

what a nice surprise: obvious irony. Contrast to line in previous chorus "plenty of room" — the rude awakening of getting dropped/shunned/exiled from the rbr ""family"".

bring your alibis: alibis — aka contingency plans. May allude to ultimately racing in a different series. It may go well it may go great it may even redeem you. But at the end of the day formula uno is always numero uno.

we are all just prisoners here, of our own device: multiple rbr drivers obviously but most notably Daniel & pre-alpine Pierre. You suffer this just to have this a while.

and in the master's chambers / they gathered for the feast: Christian Horner's annual silverstone barbeque (lol)

they stab it with their steely knives / but they just can't kill the beast: the beast — the easy answer here would be Helmut Marko; but also — the monstrousity of your own ambition. You want to kill him, you want to be his golden boy. You are disgusted and terrified of how much you need him to find you worthy. Which brings us back to:

mirrors on the ceiling: being forced to confront your own desire (delusions) but also self-doubt: am I truly as good as they say? Am I truly as good as I believed? Will I ever be good enough? Have I ever been good enough?

I was running for the door / I had to find the passage back to the place I was before: everyone that left that eventually found fulfillment & self-actualization elsewhere. Rediscovering the racing driver in you that fell in love first & foremost with the racing. Applies to many but mostly I'm thinking about Alex at Williams.

we are programmed to receive: can't get over the word "programmed" here. Driver development "program". So clinical. Mechanical. Methodical. Completely devoid of human sympathy.

you can check-out any time you like / but you can never leave: do I even need to say it? Daniel & Seb — "and then come home". Seb is probably the only one out of two people (the other being Max) to whom the word "home" does not come with baggage. (Or; relatively little baggage. There is still something to be said about leaving home to prove something to yourself & others and then ultimately being proven wrong. But of course the Sebrrari saga is much more layered & complex than that). For Daniel it's the return to the lion's den (knowing full well that it's a lion's den), because the lion's den is the only place that will welcome him with open arms (open jaws) anymore. Time is a flat circle. For as long as you continue to want you can never leave.

#i'm going to lose like twenty followers for this unhingery but you can't expect me to be sane about this #if it wasn't for the big narratives who would even care about sports #rbr #rbr meta

[lennart11412]

Matthew 6:13

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

13. And lead us not into temptation—He who honestly seeks and has the assurance of, forgiveness for past sin, will strive to avoid committing it for the future. But conscious that "when we would do good evil is present with us," we are taught to offer this sixth petition, which comes naturally close upon the preceding, and flows, indeed, instinctively from it in the hearts of all earnest Christians. There is some difficulty in the form of the petition, as it is certain that God does bring His people—as He did Abraham, and Christ Himself—into circumstances both fitted and designed to try them, or test the strength of their faith. Some meet this by regarding the petition as simply an humble expression of self-distrust and instinctive shrinking from danger; but this seems too weak. Others take it as a prayer against yielding to temptation, and so equivalent to a prayer for support and deliverance when we are tempted; but this seems to go beyond the precise thing intended. We incline to take it as a prayer against being drawn or sucked, of our own will, into temptation, to which the word here used seems to lend some countenance—"Introduce us not." This view, while it does not put into our mouths a prayer against being tempted—which is more than the divine procedure would seem to warrant—does not, on the other hand, change the sense of the petition into one for support under temptation, which the words will hardly bear; but it gives us a subject for prayer, in regard to temptation, most definite, and of all others most needful. It was precisely this which Peter needed to ask, but did not ask, when—of his own accord, and in spite of difficulties—he pressed for entrance into the palace hall of the high priest, and where, once sucked into the scene and atmosphere of temptation, he fell so foully. And if so, does it not seem pretty clear that this was exactly what our Lord meant His disciples to pray against when He said in the garden—"Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation"? (Mt 26:41).

Seventh Petition:

But deliver us from evil—We can see no good reason for regarding this as but the second half of the sixth petition. With far better ground might the second and third petitions be regarded as one. The "but" connecting the two petitions is an insufficient reason for regarding them as one, though enough to show that the one thought naturally follows close upon the other. As the expression "from evil" may be equally well rendered "from the evil one," a number or superior critics think the devil is intended, especially from its following close upon the subject of "temptation." But the comprehensive character of these brief petitions, and the place which this one occupies, as that on which all our desires die away, seems to us against so contracted a view of it. Nor can there be a reasonable doubt that the apostle, in some of the last sentences which he penned before he was brought forth to suffer for his Lord, alludes to this very petition in the language of calm assurance—"And the Lord shall deliver me from every evil work (compare the Greek of the two passages), and will preserve me unto his heavenly kingdom" (2Ti 4:18). The final petition, then, is only rightly grasped when regarded as a prayer for deliverance from all evil of whatever kind—not only from sin, but from all its consequences—fully and finally. Fitly, then, are our prayers ended with this. For what can we desire which this does not carry with it?

For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen—If any reliance is to be placed on external evidence, this doxology, we think, can hardly be considered part of the original text. It is wanting in all the most ancient manuscripts; it is wanting in the Old Latin version and in the Vulgate: the former mounting up to about the middle of the second century, and the latter being a revision of it in the fourth century by Jerome, a most reverential and conservative as well as able and impartial critic. As might be expected from this, it is passed by in silence by the earliest Latin fathers; but even the Greek commentators, when expounding this prayer, pass by the doxology. On the other hand, it is found in a majority of manuscripts, though not the oldest; it is found in all the Syriac versions, even the Peschito—dating probably as early as the second century—although this version lacks the "Amen," which the doxology, if genuine, could hardly have wanted; it is found in the Sahidic or Thebaic version made for the Christians of Upper Egypt, possibly as early as the Old Latin; and it is found in perhaps most of the later versions. On a review of the evidence, the strong probability, we think, is that it was no part of the original text.

Matthew 6 Jamieson-Fausset-Brown Bible Commentary (biblehub.com)

[livel0veliv]

Psalm 103:5. Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things, or rather "filling with good thy soul." No man is ever filled to satisfaction but a believer, and only God himself can satisfy even him. Many a worldling is satiated, but not one is satisfied. God satisfies the very soul of man, his noblest part, his ornament and glory; and of consequence he satisfies his mouth, however hungry and craving it might otherwise be. Soul-satisfaction loudly calls for soul-praise, and when the mouth is filled with good it is bound to speak good of him who filled it. Our good Lord bestows really good things, not vain toys and idle pleasures; and these he is always giving, so that from moment to moment he is satisfying our soul with good: shall we not be still praising him? If we never cease to bless him till he ceases to bless us, our employment will be eternal. So that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's. Renewal of strength, amounting to a grant of a new lease of life, was granted to the Psalmist; he was so restored to his former self that he grew young again, and looked as vigorous as an eagle, whose eye can gaze upon the sun, and whose wing can mount above the storm. Our version refers to the annual moulting of the eagle, after which it looks fresh and young; but the original does not appear to allude to any such fact of natural history, but simply to describe the diseased one as so healed and strengthened, that he became as full of energy as the bird which is strongest of the feathered race, most fearless, most majestic, and most soaring. He who sat moping with the owl in the last Psalm, here flies on high with the eagle: the Lord works marvellous changes in us, and we learn by such experiences to bless his holy name. To grow from a sparrow to an eagle, and leave the wilderness of the pelican to mount among the stars is enough to make any man cry, "Bless the Lord, O my soul." Thus, is the endless chain of grace complete. Sins forgiven, its power subdued, and its penalty averted, then we are honoured, supplied, and our very nature renovated, till we are as new-born children in the household of God. O Lord we must bless thee, and we will; as thou dost withhold nothing from us so we would not keep back from thy praise one solitary power of our nature, but with all our heart, and soul, and strength praise thy holy name.

#bible study

[suddenlystolen]

Hi! I discovered your name metas and am hooked. (Maybe it’s my background in Tolkien fandom - I can’t resist this stuff.) I saw you allude to the character arc in Jiang Cheng/Wanyin’s name. Have you written more fully about him? Or do you plan to? :3

Hello fellow Tolkien fan :D There are already a good handful of name metas for Jiang Wanyin out there, which is why I just casually alluded to Jiang Cheng/Wanyin’s character arc being embedded in his names in one of my metas. But I’ll just throw out my very quick take on his name, while trying to focus more on where my interpretation differs from what’s already been written.

Jiang Cheng (江澄)

Cheng 澄 refers to waters that are clear because they are tranquil. Jiang 江 itself means river. This image of clear, still river waters…isn’t it the opposite of Jiang Cheng’s nature and the course of his life — that is instead so turbulent?

From, his youth he’s pitted against Wei Wuxian by his own mother, feeling inferior to him as well as less deserving of his own father’s love. Then, since the seminal tragedy of the Sunshot campaign, he loses almost everyone he ever loved in his family except Jin Ling. He’s burdened with the duty of bringing the Jiang Sect from the brink to its former glory. Through it all, he’s deceived time and again. The waters are muddied for him so he’s more easily taken advantaged of, or as the saying in Chinese goes, 浑水摸鱼 — muddy the waters so you can capture the fish. The deceptions he’s caught in are born both out of goodwill (such as Wei Wuxian lying to him about his golden core), but also out of ill-intent (such as the circumstances of his sister’s death). Thus, it’s lies that Jiang Cheng lives by for the longest time. It is only at the end of the story that Jiang Cheng gains any sort of clarity about the arc of his life, and the motivations of the people around him. But it feels almost excruciatingly ironic — because by the time the dust has settled the damage has already been done, especially to his relationship with Wei Wuxian… Jiang Cheng can thus feel very poignant as a personal name…

Jiang Wanyin (晚吟)

Then his courtesy name — Jiang Wanyin 晚吟. Both words have multiple meanings. Wan (晚) means late or night. Yin 吟 has more meanings, and I’ll get to them one by one.

The most common interpretation I’ve seen of the courtesy name Wanyin, reads the word yin 吟 the way I think it is more commonly used — to refer to a moan or a groan, typically in pain or regret (as in the phrase shen yin 呻吟). Altogether, it would mean groan of the night, or a late groan. Perhaps at the end of MDZS, Jiang Cheng is full of regret that cannot be truly put into words, only let out in a sound.

Thus, where wan 晚 is interpreted to mean night, the image is of him crying out in a sleepless night.

Alternatively, where wan 晚 means late, it’s almost an indictment of his choices in his life — where by the time he knows to feel regret, to bemoan the decisions he made at critical junctures — it is already too late to salvage things, especially with Wei Wuxian.

But that begs the question — what did the person who gave Jiang Wanyin his courtesy name actually want for him? Surely neither Jiang Fengmian or Yu Ziyuan would give him an inherently tragic name.

This brings us to the other literary meanings of yin 吟, and how wan yin 晚吟 is used in premodern chinese poems.

Yin 吟 can also mean to chant or recite with rhythmic cadence — as in the phrase yin song 吟诵.

Or yin 吟 can be like onomatopoeia for the crying sound made by insects or the wind. Yin feng 吟风 for instance is the cry of the wind.

(One day I might get around to trying to translate a number of ancient chinese poems that use the phrase wan yin in these different ways, if it helps conveys the image of it better).

At any rate, 晚吟 wan yin is found as a phrase or even in the title of poems that are more subdued, wistful, contemplative; or even melancholic and regretful, because of the connotations of nightfall.

My personal theory is thus that the courtesy name Wanyin was given to Jiang Cheng to signify comfort through the vicissitudes of life — the way chanting or reciting a poem, or listening to the steady susurration of cicadas or the wind — can be a soothing accompaniment while one is staying up late. I’d interpret it as a realistic acknowledgement on the part of the giver of this courtesy name that there will definitely be dark times in Jiang Wanyin’s life. But also as their expression of hope that Jiang Wanyin will still manage to find some solace at the end of the day.

This, I believe, would be a kinder read on Jiang Cheng/Wanyin’s situation at the end of the story. He’s lost so much. But at long last his personal name has turned from a cruel irony to a reality — where now at least he has clarity and can move forward to fix things……and his courtesy name suggests he will be able to sustain himself through his newfound sorrows.

But yeah I would definitely be interested to hear other takes on why Wanyin might be given as a courtesy name :3

(PS: For those who can read chinese, this website is v useful for finding poems with particular phrases in premodern chinese poetry. Go knock yourself out looking for all the wan yins and the jiang chengs and how they’re used in different poems :3)

#mdzs meta #MDZS name meta #Jiang Cheng #Jiang Wanyin

[braunbakery]

loser

☞ zeke jaeger x fem reader [ chapter word count: 6.5k]

☞ sfw, alluding to non sfw if you squint, angst, modern au. not proofread (soz), u r eren's friend and homies with the 104th, jumps from present to past

☞ cross-posted on ao3

☞ plot: 'i'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?' zeke jaeger - former aspiring baseball star. you - formerly caught in the mix of loving him. together - meeting outside a bar a year and a half after your break up.

☞ loser [part ii]

i. beginning

NOW

it’s only when smoke starts blowing out of his puckered lips that you realise it’s him, standing in all of his bitter glory. you can practically taste it, and you can already feel the tug of the rational side of you trying to pull you back into the bar through the side exit you just came out of.

the flickering light in the tiny alley reflects off of blond waves and you’ve known zeke (you had known zeke. it’s been more than enough time to stop making that assumption) for long enough to know that he’s already noticed you. it may be dark, it may be god knows what hour of the night, but the unmistakeable smirk playing on his lips is one that you know means he’s well aware of your presence. you’re already scowling, he’s probably relishing in the fact that you haven’t turned away yet.

why haven’t you turned away?

you can still hear your friends’ laughter over drinks inside (sasha the loudest, as always), and it’s definitely not too late to turn back now and pretend you had never even seen him. to leave him here under the flickering lamppost with that stupid smug smirk on his stupid smug face. your feet are already stepping back and he just has to look up at you when you finally feel your thoughts starting to recollect. he just has to zap the common sense right back out of you.

“been a while, huh?” zeke says, voice as gruff as ever while he stamps out his cig.

your jaw clenches, “yeah, it has…what are you doing here?” last you heard, zeke had quit baseball and was in some other city doing whatever it is he spends his time doing now. whenever eren mentions his elder brother, you force yourself to zone out. you know he’s his brother first before your ex, but sometimes you just don’t want to hear it. sometimes you just don’t want to risk being stuck in the spiral of thinking about him again.

the smile that breaks out across zeke’s face when you ask is one that makes you feel sick, “visiting eren and his mom. he didn’t tell you?”

no, you think, obviously fucking not.

“he probably didn’t think i’d see you,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek when zeke pushes his glasses up away from his face to rest up in his hair.

zeke slightly cocks his head at you, “and yet here we are.”

*~*

THEN

“zeke,” you whisper frantically, your eyes darting up to the clock resting above zeke’s bed and your back digging into the door handle. it’s no use. zeke still has his face buried in the crook of your neck, beard harshly scratching at your skin and hand pressing your back into the door. “zeke.”

“mmph,” zeke grumbles in response, and you grab either side of his head and pull him away from you until he’s looking down at you with flushed cheeks and a smile you know is meant to make you stay. it would be so much easier to just succumb to it.

“i need to go back.”

“you’ve still got time,” zeke insists, trying to force his way out of your hands but your grip is unrelenting.

“they’re not gonna believe that i was in the bathroom for twenty minutes.”

“big shit.”

“you’re disgusting.”

zeke eventually exhales in defeat, stretching up to his full height and reaching behind you to open the door for you. but, before you can fully step out, he grabs a hold of your wrist and the way he looks at you when you turn your head back to him makes you want to stay for another twenty minutes. makes you feel like it’s just inevitable.

“yeah?” you ask, trying to remember how to breathe again.

“i’m leaving again in a couple of days.”

“i know.”

“so you’ll see me again before i go?”

maybe it’s this part of zeke that made you stay for the long run. this part that makes you stick with the way he constantly makes you feel like you’re simultaneously breathing your first and last breath, like every time you close your eyes the only eyes you see are his. that makes your head feel heavy with thoughts of him.

but you know, frighteningly enough, that that’s not true. that it’s all of him. even the parts that make you sick.

you press a small kiss to his lips in reassurance, and he lets go of your wrist before offering you a smile (a rare one that isn’t filled with hints of some scheme, some joke that only he knows about). when you return to your friends, all sprawled out in eren’s room figuring out rides to and from whatever frat party you were being dragged to tonight, you stare at your feet the entire way in until you join sasha on the floor.

“hey,” eren’s voice bellows, and you can already hear the smirk in it before you instinctively lift your head up and meet his eyes.

“what?”

“next time, can you tell zeke to give me back my fucking hoodie?”

the whole room erupts in laughter when your mouth drops open, even more so when you stare at the ground sheepishly.

but eren isn’t laughing when he pulls you aside before you all shuffle out of the door, grabbing onto your arm and looking at you dead serious, “listen. i’m not telling you what to do but just…don’t get too excited with zeke.”

“what? what’re you talking about?”

“he’s my brother, you know. i love him. so i know what i’m saying here.”

“okay?” you question, and eren just sighs in response, seemingly still trying to look for whatever words he wants to say, “what are you trying to tell me?”

“zeke…he…”

“…he?”

“he’s the kinda person that hurts more than gets hurt.”

before eren says anymore, you hear familiar footsteps shuffle into the entryway, and your eyes are darting to the side only to meet zeke’s. eren leaves and you offer zeke a smile, still trying to figure out what eren was getting at as you leave the house as well.

you know now, while you stand in front of zeke, a year and a half later, that eren was right. he was unequivocally, undeniably right. and you know now, while you stand in front of zeke, that it is something he does on purpose. he hurts and hurts so it is impossible (unimaginable) that he’d get hurt too.

and one way or the other, it was always going to happen to you.

*~*

NOW

“you look good,” zeke says to you when you lean on the wall opposite the lamppost he’s leaning on. you wish his words didn’t bring about the same exact butterflies they used to a year and a half ago, and you wish he didn’t know exactly what they were doing.

“thanks,” you offer back quietly.

“not going to return the compliment?” he teases, and you feel like you’re back in his room at eren’s house, pretending you need to go to the bathroom and making a bee-line for zeke’s room. and he was always there waiting for you. he always looks like he’s waiting for you, and you hate how it still makes you feel like you’re walking on air.

“i’m sure you can find some elsewhere,” you retort after an empty pause. zeke grunts amusedly and you can’t help but smile back. you shift in your place awkwardly.

“how’ve you been?” zeke asks

“good. working,” you say almost automatically. like you need him to know you’re older now, you’re better now. that you aren’t the dumb girl from back then anymore. so why do you still feel like her? why do you want him to care? “what about you?”

“good,” zeke says. “i mean, other than the fucked up arm and the career down the toilet.”

“i’m sorry.”

zeke shakes his head dismissively, “don’t be. ‘s all good.”

there’s a part of you that’s more selfish than you’d like to admit. and it’s mouthing off in your head so clearly that you can’t scarf it back down into the depths of your stomach. it wishes that zeke had never gotten that injury, that he could’ve continued on with his blooming career and his game after game, because then you would’ve ended for something. then you wouldn’t have to wonder if you could work now. then you wouldn’t have to look at this gaping space between the two of you just begging to be crossed.

then you wouldn’t have to try to figure out if it had just been zeke, no baseball or career or future, and he had been just as he was (as complicated and sneaky and sometimes just cruel) would you have even left?

the familiar laughter of your friends bellowing from inside cuts you out of your thoughts, and your phone vibrates loudly in your purse. zeke’s eyes immediately shoot up towards it. they’re probably wondering where you are.

“need to go back in?” zeke asks.

you hold your breath.

“i’m fine here.”

*~*

THEN

zeke’s car always faintly smells of smoke. you always pretend that you can’t stand it, always berate him and tell him he can’t be fucking up his lungs like that if he’s trying to be a sports star, and he just laughs in your face. you think you do it for that laugh.

“here you go,” zeke says as he pulls up outside your place. you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn towards him.

“do you think eren minds about us?” you blurt out, and he can tell it’s what you’ve been thinking about for the entire ride here because he’s beaming from ear to ear.

“is that what was eating you up?”

“just answer it, zeke,” you say sharply, but he just smiles wider.

“we’ve been doing this for...what? two months now? i’d say it’s a bit late for him to start minding now.”

you let out a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding, “right.”

but then zeke unbuckles his own seatbelt and leans in closer to you, resting his arm across the top of your seat, and now you can’t breathe again. you wonder if he knows that this is how you get when he so much as moves around you. you can feel his breath on your neck.

“is that it?” he asks, his eyes so obviously flickering down to your lips. you force yourself to keep looking at him.

“um...uh-”

“come on, just say what you want,” zeke teases, bringing his other hand to rest on your thigh.

“what...what is ‘this’?” you quietly ask, and you can feel the regret start to choke you when zeke visibly freezes under your gaze. he leans back into his seat, and you’re suddenly missing his warmth. you only get more restless when he pushes his glasses up through his hair and looks at you like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. (like it isn’t the other way around. like you don’t spend half the time you’re with him trying to figure him out.)

“well...what do you want?” he responds after a while, and you have to hold yourself back from calling him a fucking idiot because what the hell does he think you want? what the hell has he been playing at for the past two months?

you sigh, “just...forget it.” and you turn around and try to open the door, only to be met with a hand wrapped around your wrist pulling you back into your seat. pulling you practically over the console. you look back at zeke and you make a mental note to try and remember this moment where it looks like he finally has his guard down. where the skies in his eyes aren’t clouded over, and where it doesn’t feel like he’s a part of some scheme just waiting to play you for a fool.

“hold on,” he whispers, “just...wait.” he snakes a hand up to cup your cheek, fingers grazing against the hair that starts around your temple. you can’t help but melt under his touch.

“i’m waiting.”

“i- fuck…” his hand glides around to the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head, “i’m not here all the time.”

“i know.”

“and you still…?”

“yeah.” you can’t stop smiling. this is probably the first and only time zeke will ever let you see him like this. he pulls away from you completely.

“okay,” he says, and extends his hand out to you over the console, “girlfriend?”

“are you serious?”

zeke simply brings his hand closer to you in response.

“fine,” you pretend to sigh in annoyance, grabbing his hand and shaking it, “girlfriend.”

suddenly you’re being jerked towards him and his beard his scratching against your face and his lips are on yours, tongue immediately swiping over your bottom lip. and suddenly you’re forgetting how annoyed you were before; how nervous you were before. you’re forgetting everything. and it’s scary. it’s scary how he always makes you feel like you’re free falling, and like he’s the only one who could possibly catch you. it’s scary how he always makes you forget.

but it’s the kind of fear that just makes you want him more.

*~*

NOW

your phone vibrates loudly in your purse again and you just hope that one of the girls isn’t going to come out and look for you.

“who are you here with?” zeke asks, still leaning on the lamp post opposite you with his gaze trained on your purse.

“sasha, mikasa, historia...you know. the girls,” you say. zeke nods his head.

“sasha…” zeke brings his hand up to his beard in faux-thought, and you can already tell he’s about to make some dumb joke or some stupid comment, “brown hair...kinda loud?”

you roll your eyes but the way your lips are still curled up into a small smile is unmistakable, “you know who sasha is, zeke.”

“i’ll take your word for it.”

another pause. one thing you’ve always hated about zeke is how he always just looks. he doesn’t ever seem to have a nervous bone in his body, and if he does, it’s protected in layers and layers of arrogance and slyness. and he’s doing it now...just looking at you, without a care in the world. you can practically feel his gaze burning holes into your dress and straight through your skin.

and he has to know he’s doing it because every time you glance up in hopes that he’s stopped, his eyes lock onto yours and he gives you that dumb smile again. you try to swallow down the realisation of how much you’ve missed that smile. and missed how much he always made you feel like something worth looking at shamelessly. he’s the first one to break the silence (of course he is.)

“you cold?” he asks, and before you can even properly answer he’s shrugging off his jacket and walking across the alley to you. you feel your body lock up when the fabric of his dress shirt brushes against your skin as he sidles up next to you. way too close. even across the fucking alley was too close, because now you’re not sure if you can move again.

you realise that it’s not even cold when he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, his fingertips sending shocks up your skin. always the charmer.

what an ass.

“thanks,” you murmur, finally gaining the courage to look at him. he offers you a grin in return.

“of course,” he says. of course, you mock, shut the fuck up,“you should probably text your friends back.”

“i’m not staying out for long,” you snap, pretending that it hasn’t been long already. you just want him to know that this isn’t a plan. you’re not actively thinking about spending the next while out here in this shitty alley with him (you might be).

“you sure they won’t worry either way?” zeke says, and your heart flutters against your better judgement when you hear the sincerity in his voice. zeke seems even more all-consuming than he was before, and you know that part of that is because of how much effort you’ve put into not having to hear of him for the time that’s passed.

you also know that it’s because a part of you has missed being consumed by his presence.

so you pull out your phone and click onto your messages, quickly typing a response to the questioning texts sent into the groupchat. your fingers freeze over your screen when you feel zeke slightly lean over you and look down at the glowing screen with you, his beard slightly scratching against your neck.

you feel him smile when he hears your breath hitch in your throat.

you glance back up at him questioningly and he offers you a close lipped smile and leans his head back up against a wall while you shove your phone back into your purse.

“so, who are you with?” you ask, pulling zeke’s jacket tighter over yourself.

“hm? oh,” zeke starts, “i’m with pieck.”

your heart drops.

*~*

THEN

sometimes you wish you had never met zeke. that somehow you could be friends with eren and still not have a single clue who zeke is. it’s in this moment especially that you feel like this, because while you should be enjoying dinner with your friends at this restaurant, all of you huddled around a table, all you can focus on is zeke from across the room with his own friends.

and they’re nice, you’re sure they’re nice people, and you know zeke isn’t ignoring you because every few minutes he looks up at you and offers you a smile that makes this all okay for a second. but it doesn’t mean that as soon as he looks down you don’t feel the urge to storm up to him and wipe his mouth straight off of his face.

it doesn’t matter how nice they might be, because that doesn’t stop the way zeke has his arm slung around the raven-haired girl’s shoulder (pieck, you think) from making your heart hammer against your chest.

you can hear her laugh all the way from here. it’s pretty, and zeke is always laughing with her. everyone at the table is always laughing with her. and zeke looks right at her when he does, too. him and his fucking looks. fuck you fuck you fuck you. why does he make you feel like this?

“you okay?” sasha nudges you from her seat next to you, and you look back at her to find her and mikasa staring at you with their brows furrowed, concern painted across their faces.

you nod your head, “yeah, i’m fine.”

“you know you can go say hi to loverboy if you want?” jean interjects, his sudden comment causing connie, armin and eren to suddenly be just as interested in the small exchange between you and the girls.

“he’s not loverboy,” you say, picking up the glass of coke in front of you and taking a sip.

“you sure, cause–” connie starts, but immediately cuts himself off when he’s met with a silencing glare by mikasa.

“you good?” eren prods, and his involvement just makes you feel worse. how do you say ‘oh, hey, i’m unnecessarily jealous of the girl your brother is currently all over.’ so you swallow down your insecurity and offer a reassuring smile.

“i’m good, can we get dessert now?” you say. and that seems to be enough, because everyone slowly begins to lean back into their seats, and maybe everything is good and you’re just being unreasonable. you know you’re being unreasonable, it’s just so annoying that it’s because of zeke. that he makes you get like this. that he makes you feel like an over the top school girl and–

“that’s it, pieck!” zeke’s voice bellows from across the busy restaurant, and your head immediately lurches to his table where he’s slightly raised from his seat, hand around pieck’s back and grasping her shoulder as she downs a pint of beer.

you hear the clink of her glass when she basically slams it back up on the table, her upper lip covered in the foam of her now empty drink. the whole table is laughing, heads thrown back and shoulders shaking, but you can still make out zeke beaming at her, laughing the loudest.

“damn,” jean says, and only then do you realise that everyone on your table is now looking over at that table too. but that doesn’t stop you from watching the scene unfold in front of you, gut wrenching as you hope to whatever omnipotent being that it ends here. here is okay. here sucks, but it’s okay, and you know you can just turn back to your friends and continue on with your night.

but then…but then zeke is wiping off the layer of foam over pieck’s upper lip with his thumb and you think your teeth are about to crush each other with how hard you clench your jaw.

it’s when zeke gets rid of the foam now collected on his thumb by licking it off that you get up and leave.

you don’t look back until you’re met with the darkness of the street outside the restaurant and the slight chill of the air. you have to think about breathing, about moving, and it’s so exhausting. zeke is so exhausting. you wish you could just forget him.

but how do you forget him when a familiar hand from behind you is placed on your shoulder and you’re turning around to be met by the light of the streetlights from afar reflecting off of zeke’s glasses and his calloused fingers gliding up your neck to cup your jaw?

how do you forget him when he snakes his other hand to the small of your back and gently pushes you closer to him until you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheeks, looking at you like you’re made of glass and the only thing he knows how to do is to wait ‘til you break so he can be the one to put you back together?

“zeke,” you choke out, voice strained and eyes so desperately not wanting to look into his. but his gaze is so captivating, and it takes everything in you to leave your arms at your sides and not reach out to take off his glasses.

“hey,” he whispers back to you, brows furrowed in concern. why does he have to look at you like that, like he cares so much, when it hurts so bad? because now, now there’s a part of you thinking that maybe this ache is worth it, “listen–”

“why would you–” you cut him off and try to catch your breath, “why would you…do that?”

“do what, baby?” zeke asks carefully. quietly. you want to rip yourself out of his grasp, but you know you’ll miss it too much.

“don’t– don’t call me that right now,” you say, still trying to even out your breathing, “you know what. you know.”

“what? with pieck?” his thumb caresses your cheek and you’re so painfully aware that it’s the same one he used to swipe across her upper lip just a while ago. you want to scream. yes, with pieck. yes with pieck, who’s older and wiser and prettier and more experienced and has a life sorted out for herself and isn’t zeke’s little brother’s inexperienced friend. you always feel like a kid around him. around his friends. your third year of college, but still a dumb little girl.

“what do you think?” you practically hiss, and zeke’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. you don’t want to be this. you don’t want to be petty and jealous and whatever it is that’s making him think about recoiling away from you right now but it’s the only way that’s preventing this fucking irritating hurt from permanently settling into your body.

“that was nothing. baby, i–”

“that wasn’t nothing to me.”

zeke stops. you don’t want him to notice the tears brimming at your lower lash line, but you know he has, and it just makes you feel even more pathetic.

“what?” zeke whispers, trying to urge you to say more. you can’t stop gulping.

“…that really hurt, okay? like really fucking hurt.”

“okay.”

“and i know…i know you have more ‘experiences’ or whatever, but to me…to me that really stung.”

“i’m sorry,” zeke cups your face with both hands now, and you grasp his forearms.

“you’re my first in everything, zeke.”

“what does that mean?”

“it means,” you take a breath, “it means that it doesn’t feel great knowing that i care about everything more than you–”

“hey, hey. i care about you,” zeke cuts you off, immediately pressing a kiss to your lips. he’s a charmer. you know he is. but maybe you’ll forget it for now.

maybe you’ll just focus on the way he has an arm wrapped around your waist so tightly, like he’ll die if you’re not stuck by his side, while he calls a cab to bring you both back to your place. you’ll focus on how he left his friends without another word, how he practically tugged you away when you were trying to wave bye to eren’s silhouette standing at the entrance of the restaurant, who was chosen by the rest of your friends inside to be the best person to beat zeke’s ass if needed.

and you’ll just focus on the way that he grasps your hand so tightly as you sit next to him in the stuffy taxi, bringing your hand up to his lips every few minutes when you’re not looking, knowing that it makes you melt under him. you’ll just focus on how he takes up all the space in your bed and holds you flush against him, insisting on not letting you go for the entire time you both sleep.

and you’ll focus how when his phone flashes with a text in the hours of the early morning, you see a text from hours earlier on his lockscreen.

Pieck | 01:27

Your little girlfriend okay?

and you’ll focus on how it makes your stomach drop.

you’ll focus on how the next time you see zeke with his friends, with pieck, it still hurts. and he still has an arm slung over her shoulder, he still sits closer to her than you’d like.

when his friends post videos of him and pieck, arm linked around hers and brought up to his mouth, chugging pints of beer, you’ll focus on how eren looks at you apologetically, looks at you because he told you so. and you bite your tongue and hold your breath and wish zeke away. wish zeke closer.

wish for zeke.

wish that you didn’t let him whisk you away with a few kisses each time, and you didn’t always accept it no matter how certain it was that you’d just wake up next to him feeling worse.

*~*

NOW

“pieck,” you repeat after zeke. it takes him a while to connect the dots that litter the silence that follows after her name, but when he does he’s quick to lean away from you.

“it’s not what you think.”

“what do i think?” you immediately retort.

zeke smiles at you and it makes you uneasy. you know he’s picked up on the harshness in your voice, you know he’s picked up on how now you’re the one feigning cluelessness and questioning him. he’s made you worse. he’s made a small part of you like him, and you hate him for it.

“you grew up a little, huh?”

“you grew up a lot, old man.” you smile when zeke visibly cringes at the nickname.

“okay, compromise. we both grew up the same amount,” he jokes, cocking his head at you.

“i’ll think about it.”

he laughs again, “can i buy you a drink?”

there’s that fear again, the one lightly tapping your shoulder and reminding you of everything you managed to escape, of how far you’ve come. and making you just want to take it all back and let zeke buy you wherever and take you wherever. you bit your lip and try to reel yourself in, especially when zeke’s eyes flicker down to your mouth.

“i don’t…really feel like going back in,” you say eventually. zeke nods his head and doesn’t make any effort to back away from you. if anything, it feels like he’s getting closer.

“right, well. can i stay out here with you longer?” zeke asks and it’s too much of struggle to bite back the smile that already spills its way across your face at his insistence to stay with you. he’s always had you hooked on this feeling of being wanted. you had thought you were better than that after all this time.

“wow, you’re asking?”

“hey,” zeke feigns offense, “i’ve changed.”

zeke smiles when he hears you laugh, eyebrows shooting up, “what? is that so hard to believe?” he nudges his elbow lightly against your arm. the contact makes you shiver, and you’re suddenly thankful for the cover his jacket offers you.

“hmm, i don’t know,” you start, “will we ask pieck?” the way zeke looks like he’s not even quite sure if you’ve just said that makes you all the more grateful for your sudden burst of courage. makes you all the more grateful for the way the thought of pieck (with her lazy smile and captivating eyes and kind voice) makes you see red for a split second. zeke takes a moment to recollect himself.

he reaches his hand up to his chest and squints his eyes, “ouch, low blow.”

he laughs when you laugh, and then it’s silence. you wonder if he’s going to walk away now. you wonder if he can tell how bad you don’t want him to. you wonder if he can tell how you hate yourself for that.

“is she not waiting for you in there?” you ask when he still hasn’t moved away from you and you can still feel his arm against yours.

“the others are probably here by now,” zeke says. the relief that washes over you when you realise it isn’t just the two of them makes you feel pathetic, but it’s still relief all the same and suddenly your muscles aren’t as tense.

“right,” you mutter, training your gaze straight ahead at the wall opposite the two of you.

“things seem to be going good for you now,” zeke comments and you know he’s watching you stare at the wall ahead of you. you know he’s watching you try your hardest to not stare at him when he’s standing this close, and when you’re not trying to stop him from getting any closer.

“yeah, you could say that i guess,” you quietly respond. when he doesn’t say anything back (no curt retort or prying question or sly joke) you make the mistake of turning your head slightly towards him and looking at him, and you don’t know why you’re surprised when piercing blue eyes are already staring back at you. you don’t know why you’re surprised when your body starts to turn towards him too.

“i…” zeke starts, slowly leaning closer to you until you both face each other directly. it feels like your knees are about to give out when you feel his breath brush over your cheeks, “i really am sorry about. about hurting you.”

your heart wrenches. why does his remorse only hurt more?

“yeah,” you practically whisper, “i know.”

zeke’s eyes flicker down to your lips and this time you know he hopes you see it.

“i was never really a relationship person but i just…really wanted you,” zeke says, and maybe this is the most honest he’s been to you without you having to coax it out of him, “for myself.” he adds.

“and you had me,” you softly remind him, and your breath catches in your throat when he rests a hand on your waist over his jacket.

zeke’s calloused hand makes its way to your jaw, fingers threading through the hair at your temple. the familiarity is making your chest soar, “i did. fucked it up though, didn’t i?”

you laugh, “yeah, you did.”

he laughs back. and then he pulls you closer to him by your jaw until your lips meet.

and you let yourself drown without a second thought.

*~*

THEN

zeke paces back into the room, hand raised and pinching at the bridge of his nose. you stay planted on the bed, back facing him, unable to look at him seem so tired of you.

“why aren’t you happy? i’m happy!” zeke exclaims, and the closer he comes to you the more you feel like you’re going to burst on the spot. you wish you hadn’t of allowed yourself to be selfish and just smiled and clapped when he told you his chance to change teams. like a good girlfriend.

like a good little girlfriend.

you twist around to find him standing still facing you, staring at you and waiting for some explanation that’ll make this all okay. you exhale, “i am happy for you. i’m happy. i just. fuck – like, see you even less?”

zeke’s eyes soften for a minute and you think that maybe everything is okay. but things are never surface level with zeke, and every emotion comes with a plethora following in tandem.

“this is my future. this is what i’ve gotta do to get it,” he says like he’s in some lifetime movie. for someone that makes you feel like you’re overreacting most of the time, he sure is good at playing up the dramatics.

“i know that, zeke. i just…” you start. what can you even say? you can’t ask him to stay. you won’t ask him to stay, “i was just being honest about how i feel. that’s it.”

zeke sighs, “how you feel,” he mocks quietly.

you freeze.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

zeke looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“nothing–”

“no, go on then. you can tell me how you feel now.” you egg him on, and you don’t know why you’re so eager to set yourself up to get hurt.

“you know what? fine,” zeke starts, “you and all this shit you fucking feel. i’m just trying to play fucking baseball and you still somehow find a way to nag and be insecure about that too…”

zeke trails off when you don’t break eye contact with him. you don’t think you’ve ever felt so hurt and so angry at him. you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to hurt him back so bad. he doesn’t move until the silence passes between you, and it takes its sweet time.

“if you speak to me like that ever again i’m gone,” you say curtly once zeke starts to stare at his own two feet. and the pride you had started to feel for yourself for finally saying something, for finally asserting something in this relationship or whatever the fuck you can call it is cruelly dissipated by zeke’s icy and empty laughter.

he shakes his head in pity when you furrow your brows at him, “no, you’re not.”

“what?” you practically whisper. zeke chuffs.

“you’re not gonna leave and we both know it.”

you don’t realise you’ve gotten up from the bed until you’re scrambling out of the room, picking up whatever belongings that find their way in front of you on zeke’s bedroom floor and shoving past him before shuffling down the stairs discordantly. you don’t know if you can hear zeke following after you, but you know that if you stop to find out the potential disappointment is going to crush you.

you mutter out a hasty “see ya, eren” when you trudge past the kitchen and you’re out the door before eren can even fully realise that its you.

when you get home, you launch yourself at your bed and only grow more and more annoyed with yourself as the night goes on when each time your phone buzzes your heart sinks when it isn’t zeke.

eren | 21:37

so you and zeke worked it out then?

you | 21:39

what do you mean?

eren | 21:40

u’ve been up there with him for like 2 fucking hours dude

your chest constricts.

eren | 21:41

i live here too ya know

you should’ve known. someone like zeke, no matter how much he had claimed to have loved you or cared about you, would never be satisfied with just you. you’re just something to collect, something to fall back on.

eren | 21:43

chill i’m not listening. tv’s on

you | 21:45

i’m at home.

you shove your phone underneath your pillow and try to bask in the moment before it’s really real. before your hopes of eren just being sorely mistaken are proven completely futile. before you have to learn how to swim back up to the surface again.

new message – eren jaeger 21:50

fuck.

*~*

NOW

zeke tastes like mint and smoke. and he feels like something you shouldn’t be tangling yourself up with again. but he won’t stop biting at your lower lip or pulling away to just look at you and its dizzying. it’s hypnotising.

you missed it.

but you don’t want to miss it anymore, so when he pulls away again you don’t let him drag you back to his lips. he doesn’t think anything of it, just stays with one hand resting at your waist and the other on your face. he smiles at you – a boyish grin that still brings about butterflies.

“it’s really nice to see you again,” he says, and he laughs when you smile sheepishly, “seriously.”

“likewise,” you say in all honesty.

“do you…do you wanna…?”

“i don’t think i can leave with you,” you say almost immediately.

zeke smiles and nods his head, “of course.”

“and i don’t think i can try with you again,” you continue, and this time zeke’s looking up at you like he hadn’t expected that. you don’t really know if you had expected it either. but having your head above the surface, even with the struggle against the current, seems better than aimlessly sinking into zeke right now. no matter how enticing it is.

“you can’t?”

“no. i can’t,” you say, and something flashes in zeke’s eyes.

“alright,” zeke says, and you don’t know why you panic when his grip on your waist softens, because you immediately reach out and grab his wrist.

you want to let him go. you do, really. you have to.

“but…” you drawl out, trying to ignore the way the hope dancing around in zeke’s eyes is making you feel so jittery. you have to let go of his wrist and give him back his jacket, “i can try just for tonight.”

zeke grins and kisses you again.

you have to let him go and swim back up for air. and you will. you will.

just. not right now.

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[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 133

Jam ’ (Absorption)

Jam’ (absorption) literally means coming and bringing together. In the language of Sufism, it means fixing all one’s feeling, sight and consciousness on the Truth, to the extent that one is absorbed in Him and does not feel the existence of the world with all that is in it. To the degree of one’s knowledge of God, one only knows Him, feels Him, sees Him and is saved from preoccupation with anything else. If this meaning is approached from the concept of unity, it is the opposite of multiplicity; but if it is conceived of as one’s heart cutting off relations with all else save God, then its opposite is distinguishing (farq), which we, God willing, will deal with as a separate subject.

Absorption is a state or station belonging to those who have reached the final state of the spiritual journey. Travelers to the Truth who are honored with the gift of absorption always feel Him, know Him, and according to the level of the horizon and spiritual pleasures of each, can be aware or not aware of the people around them. But they always feel and are always conscious of the Truth and live as if charmed by observation of the meanings that belong to the Truth and that are reflected in everything. They always see the manifestations of His Names and Attributes in all things and events which they encounter. Thirsty for the Divine Being Himself, they fly around the manifestations of His “Face” like moths flying around a light. In tides of wonder and admiration, they cannot help but utter: Glory be to You, how exalted You are (as the Divine Being)!

Two stages further from this state of pleasure is absorption within absorption, which means a total absence for the travelers to the Truth. Travelers who find themselves in such a whirlpool of feeling are no longer aware of their own selves nor that of others. Totally detached from distinguishing, they are completely forgetful of all else save the Truth-as anybody except He is a shadow of the shadow of the light of His Existence-and turn to Him with all their being.

For initiates who base themselves on God’s absolute Oneness in all their views and considerations, everything is a shadow of the light of the Existence of the Truth. For one who is in the state of absorption, it is a shadow of the shadow of His Existence’s light, while one who is in the absorption within absorption only sees the rays of the manifestations of His “Face” in the name of the creation. Some scholars mention a further degree of absorption, which they call holy absorption. This is the rank which the verifying scholars of Sufism regard as the of nearness to God, Who is nearer to us than ourselves, by means of supererogatory prayers. The travelers who have attained this level are conscious that it is God Who maintains them, and begin to observe everything more deeply and clearly with their innermost senses, which have become sharper than their external senses. They hear with their spirit, see with their power of insight, review and examine with their conscience, and have the opportunity to see the true faces of theoretical knowledge through the door half-opened by their inner vision and experience. This is the rank where travelers are favored with the full manifestation of the truth contained in He is the First, and the Last, and the Outward, and the Inward (57:3), and where they become polished mirrors that reflect it. The servants of God who have reached this farthest point either “travel in God” and rotate around themselves like the North Star, or are turning around their axis in their hearts while being in their bodies among people.

If they have attained the rank of absorption, it means that they have also been favored with “subsitence with God.” Those who hold this rank in the final stage of the journey, and who are abstracted from their own attributes in their absorption in God’s Attributes and from their own being in absorption in God’s Being, gain a new existence through subsistence with God. They begin to feel the bliss of eternality and breathe “absorption” in the delight of being aware that their acts have become lost in God’s acts. A stage further, when they observe that their attributes have been annihilated in the all-comprehensive Attributes of God, they become lost in the delight of experiencing absorption within absorption. Finally, as a result of their own being being obliterated in the face of God’s Knowledge and Existence, they leave themselves to the consideration of the holy absorption with inner vision and spiritual pleasures, and are immersed in the feelings of wonder upon wonder.

From another point of view, the act of observing the requirements or responsibilities of servanthood to God with the utmost care, devotion, and consciousness is called “distinguishing,” while being favored with a shower of Divine gifts that come unexpectedly as a reward for this “small capital”-small because the greatest capital is one’s being favored by God-is absorption. In view of this approach, those who have attained a higher spiritual state have observed that one who does not perceive “distinguishing” is ignorant of servanthood, while one who does not feel absorption is unaware of knowing God.

The Qur’anic statement (1:5), You alone do we worship, which expresses the individual consciousness developing into and translating the public consciousness, is a voice of distinguishing and servanthood, while You alone do we ask for help (1:5) is an expression of absorption and a declaration of human poverty and helplessness before God. Every initiate hears the voice of distinguishing at the beginning of the spiritual journey, and feels the pleasure of absorption at the end of it. The ultimate point, which only those endowed with a particular capacity can reach, is “absorption within absorption” and the “holy absorption.” While the former signifies God’s concentration of the manifestations of His Names on a certain object, the latter is a sign of the manifestation of His Names throughout the universe.

According to Kashani,[1] distinguishing is the knowledge of God the Almighty and spiritual pleasures of those who have not yet been able to develop their theoretical considerations about God (I personally find this view unacceptable), while absorption is immersion caused by a concentration on the Creator without ever thinking of the creation, and absorption within absorption is the peak of seeing the creation as subsisting by the Creator. This final rank is also the rank of distinguishing above absorption. Since in this rank only God’s acts, Attributes and Essential Qualities are observed, the Absolutely True One, for those who have attained this rank, becomes the eyes with which they see, the ears with which they hear, and the hands with which they hold. For this reason, He attributes to Himself what they do by His will and leave and ignore the apparent causes. The Sufi scholars are of the opinion that the verse, (8:17), You did not kill them but God killed them, and when you threw, it was not you who threw, but God who threw, besides clearly mentioning a miracle of God’s Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, alludes to this rank.

Absorption can never mean the unity of being-the unity (union) of God and the universe or God’s being identical with the universe-as pantheists claim, nor is distinguishing totally the opposite. The One Who is the Eternal is eternal, and the beings who are contained in time and come into existence within time are mortal and different from the Eternal One. The Creator cannot be and is not the same as the created. The relation between them is not that which comes from appearance; that is, the universe is not an apparent form of God. Rather, this relation is that between the Creator and the created. We can also see the creation as the totality of the manifestations of God’s Names. These manifestations are completely pure and transparent, while that which issues from the created is usually tangible. Human beings have both a pure, transparent aspect or dimension, and a dense/tangible one. This is why, as declared in the verse (17:84), Each being acts according to his own standard of measure, they can display behavior either according to their bodily dimension or according to their spirit. As they are composed of a body, a carnal self, and a spirit, they fix their eyes on nature and corporeality, while they carry inclinations toward spiritual, exalted worlds as well. By means of the ways of rising which the Shari’a has appointed and guaranteed, travelers on the way to God cut their relations with fleeting and decaying things and turn to eternity. Whosever’s breast God expands and opens to Islam follows a light from his Lord (39:22). So, when travelers to God turn to Him in submission, they travel in the exhilarating horizons with utmost self-possession and awareness under the guidance of the light of their Lord. Even though they may sometimes encounter confusion or bewilderment, they easily overcome these with the assistance of the never-deceiving leadership of the master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings. They always head for the sources of knowledge that God has determined and secured through Prophethood, and never fall into the errors committed by pantheists.

From another perspective, absorption has been dealt with under the rubrics of “absorption with respect to knowledge”, “absorption with respect to existence”, and “absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself.”

Absorption in knowledge means that at the beginning of their journey, travelers to God base themselves on the knowledge that comes from, or that is obtained through, the proofs and indications of God. Then this knowledge develops from the certainty based on knowing into a certainty based on observation and finally into a certainty based on experience. However, only a shadowy degree of certainty based on experience can be reached in the world. Ultimately, this knowledge becomes pure knowledge from His Presence. Although it is the result of following the way of inference, it is not the same as the knowledge acquired through a proof originated in the outer world or in the human inner world. Not is it totally different either. It is a special gift of the Almighty to the free will with which God has endowed human beings, and which is in fact a simple means given to them for the execution of the Divine commandments. However, like all other Divine gifts, this gift is never proportionate to our free will. Like it, all other gifts of God Almighty are many times greater than what we actually deserve.

Absorption with respect to existence is when the travelers to God are perfectly aware in their consciousness of how things and events occur and how they are maintained. All of existence disappears from their vision to the extent that they are no longer aware of which direction is right and which is left. The conquerors of the heart, who walk in this station, feel only the rays of the Eternal Holy Existence and Knowledge and see all else as the motions of these rays. Provided manifestation is not confused with appearance, and shadow with the original, those who have attained this horizon feel or hear innumerable things and/or beings in every part of the universe invoking His Name, saying, He is the All-Living, the Self-Subsisting (by Whom all subsist)(2:255).

Absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself means that all the indications and proofs of God that originate in the outer and inner human world are no longer visible in the face of the light of knowledge of God and the spiritual pleasure that the Almighty lets flow into the hearts of travelers to Him. Some have regarded this rank as the final station of the spiritual journey. If they base this consideration on their constant turning to God during traveling from wakefulness to self-possession and thence to repentance, penitence and contrition one after the other, and on the relation between God and humankind as being the relation between the Creator and the created, and the Sole Object of Worship and the worshipper, and the Lord and the servant, there can be no objection. But, if they imply by absorption that things have no reality at all, and it is of no use or significance to use one’s mental faculties to infer from things and events the existence of God and therefore to acquire certain knowledge about Him, and that people are no longer responsible for the fulfillment of religious obligations after reaching some point in the spiritual journey, and that there is essentially no difference between I and you and He, then this is most definitely a total deviation in conception and creed. This can be either a fantasy of those who are pursuing “originality” for the sake of fame or a view held by some self-conceited pantheists and monists.

As for the Prophets and the pure, saintly scholars, they have regarded the way leading to the Infinite One as endless, and have experienced the final station one can reach in the journey along this way according to their capacity with the same solemnity, wakefulness, and consciousness as they experienced the beginning. They have always accepted that serving the Truth with the utmost humility is the goal of their lives. The Almighty ordered the master of creation, the most perfect in servanthood to Him, Worship your Lord until what is certain (to come, i.e. death) comes to you (15:99). By this, He both emphasizes that death marks the end of this responsibility and consoles the Messenger for the afflictions and tortures he was subjected to by reminding him of his meeting with God. Because meeting with God meant for him reaching certainty based on experience in his own, unique level.

O God! Make us among those of Your servants who pursue sincerity, whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, who have achieved piety and abstinence from all forbidden things big or small, and whom You have made near to You, and who are pleased with You and whom you are pleased with. And let God’s blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the head of those whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, and on his family and Companions, who were austere, near to God, and were pleased with Him and whom God was pleased with. Amen!

[1] ‘Abd al-Razzaq al-Kashani (d. 1335) is one of the interpereters of Ibn al-‘Arabi. His Ta’wilat al-Qur’an is especially famous and important. 

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimah #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new revert #new convert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[akitokihojo]

Enchanted - The Final Part

Kagome stared evenly at the letter in her hand, the castle official trotting further down the road toward the next house on his decorated horse. They’re invitations. The man had said. To celebrate the union of two people and two kingdoms. The thick paper of the envelope sat heavily in her fingers, making it feel like she was carrying a leather-bound book instead.

“Now I understand.” Kaede spoke after opening her own, generic invite and reading it through. The old lady turned her head toward Kagome, watching as her assistant’s chin gave a morose twitch. “You knew about this.”

She nodded. That was all she could do. She’d dodged the topic for over a week, coming up with excuses about not feeling well or putting in an extra amount of effort to avoid speaking in general. If she thought about it, it would only be a matter of seconds before she broke. So she kept as busy as possible until the very last moment of each day.

“That’s okay, child. We don’t have to talk about it.”

With a dragged inhale, Kagome feigned a smile, shaking her head as if it were that easy to push the problem aside, and turned to look at her mentor. “Thanks. I - uh - I think I left the axe in the clearing in the woods again. I’ll be right back.”

Kaede watched the girl walk off, the letter surprisingly still in hand.

•

Inuyasha stood in the large entry of the grand ballroom, watching the men and women hustle along to polish every inch of it. Decorating would soon follow, and he could only imagine the dreary ribbons and drapes that would embellish the place. He felt empty and powerless. He felt aggravated and restless. He wanted to scream at the entire staff to stop what they were doing as if preventing the decorating would prevent the entire goddamn thing, itself.

As each bit of the glossy floor sparkled in its freshly-cleaned glory, the ballroom only seemed to appear darker and darker. No longer did it look like an appropriate place to host every invited person in the country, but more a place hospitable to keep criminals locked up until their final days. The more he stood there and took the beginnings of the entire process in, the more unsettled his stomach sat in his abdomen. Was defeat this nauseating, or was this just the heartbreak he refused to acknowledge?

•

The pads of her fingers seemed to go numb against the textured envelope as she walked within the concealment of the trees, and she’d had to squeeze against it to make sure she hadn’t dropped it somewhere along the way. As soon as she’d made it onto the path, her body was quick to flash hot. They’d broken up for a reason, she knew this was coming, but it still seemed so surreal to her. What she hadn’t expected was a huge celebration, especially so soon. It was too soon. He never mentioned when his new fiancee would be coming or when the wedding would be held, so she'd hoped that some forgiving force of nature would give her a little time to digest it all. The day after he’d left her, she’d had to force herself to get out of bed. It was well into the afternoon, and after lying to Kaede by faking a minor head cold, she had to go into the shopping district to get some ingredients for soup. There were more people out and about than she’d seen lately, and it was only a matter of minutes before rumors reached her ear of a carriage surrounded by plenty of royal guards that had rolled through town just an hour or so before. She wasn’t sure if there was a word to describe the sensation that knocked on the inside of her ribcage, but it tumbled down each bone unpleasantly and nearly caused her to visibly shudder in front of a vendor.

Kagome’s overdress snagged on a dried branch of a bush, jerking her to a stop. She tried to pull it free but it wouldn’t budge, and quickly the unsettling nerves in her chest began to expand and flare, bringing her to groan loudly in frustration because all she wanted was her moment of fraudulent peace in the damn clearing. Reluctantly, she stomped back toward the offending branch to kneel down and wrestle the threads free, feeling almost overwhelmed enough to curl up right then and there.

•

“What are you planning?” Inuyasha melancholically asked.

“Oh, do you suddenly want to talk to me now?” There was acrimony laced in Sesshomaru’s tone.

Inuyasha’s eyes drifted to the desk the king sat at, then the carpet. He was too desperate to hold onto his pride. He heard the steady inhale his brother took as he set his pen down with a click.

“My plan depends on yours.”

“What?” Inuyasha met his even stare.

“You’ve been waiting on us to call it off or change our minds. I have yet to see you take matters into your own hands.”

If he only knew.

“Since when do you sit around and sulk until given your way?”

“Sesshomaru, I don’t -“ He was almost tempted to give their entire ruse away just for the sake of his defense, but that would betray whatever loyalty he and Kikyo had created, so he stopped himself mid sentence. Sesshomaru cocked a single brow, almost as if his plain expression slighted in interest.

“I can’t get you out of this, Inuyasha. So, what are you going to do to change your own fate?”

•

Kagome slid her finger within the wax-sealed fold of the envelope to open it, flinching away quickly as she felt the thick material slice through her skin. Great. The whole damn thing was out to get her. She watched as the thin cut just next to her nail produced a droplet of blood, mindlessly applying pressure to her finger with her thumb to get more to drip out. 

Why would she even want to look at the invitation? To seal the deal even further than it already was? Would reading it through solidify the engagement and make it feel more real in her head, or was she just masochistic? Kagome dropped the envelope to her side, wiping her bleeding finger on the thigh of her chemise before hugging her legs closer and looking toward the sky. There was purple in the sunset. What once made her happy and filled her with hope now applied a weight to her stomach that sunk it far and low. 

This wasn’t her. Only once had she ever wished for clouds to cover the glowing hues she always favored, but sitting there in the clearing, torn and heavy, she regretted looking up. She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to be forced to pretend she was hopeful, she wanted to save the purple for a different day since they were so few and far between. She came to the clearing so she’d have a few moments where she wouldn’t have to pretend; where she could take deep breaths in preparation to get her through the rest of the day after the invitation knocked her off course. What would help was a gloomy day that matched her mood. That way she could blame the clouds and the cold and the weather and whatever else that wasn’t her ill-tempered heart.

•

Inuyasha was drained. He was exhausted. He didn’t know what Sesshomaru was alluding to, and the man was never one to speak clearly when he wanted you to figure something out yourself. But he and Kikyo had both been trying to break the engagement. They’d both been putting in energy to fix the mess their families had created. What else could they possible do? He didn’t want to think about anything anymore. Not today. It hurt too much.

•

Kagome took a deep breath, coming out of the forest and onto the field before the apothecary’s shop. Her face was set, she felt more sturdy, and she had a few more chores to keep her distracted for a little while longer. There was a huff from inside the small stable to her right, hooves rustling back and forth, almost seeming restless. Kagome headed inside to settle Kaede’s horse, petting along his neck. Immediately, she checked the floor to see if there was anything slithering that startled him, but with how quickly the steed calmed down with her affection, she figured he was just a little agitated.

“You too, huh?” She said, leaning her forehead against the bridge of his nose. “Things will get better, I promise. We’ve just gotta ride this out.”

•

Inuyasha had been laying in bed for hours but sleep was far from attainable no matter how heavy his lids were. As much as he wished he could silence his mind, it raced too fast for him to catch up to. He stared at the ceiling, his hand resting on his bare stomach, feeling the unconscious flex of his abdomen as, once again, he thought of Kagome. It was painful. He never imagined the thought of her would be painful, but he missed her so goddamn much. What he wouldn’t pay to have her sleeping in bed beside him right this very moment. He’d happily stay awake all night just to feel her body there, hear her steady breathing, take in her scent and hope his comforter absorbed it just as well so he could continue to smell her every night after that.

He pictured his future, and it was her. He didn’t stand there alone, it wasn’t Kikyo at his side, nor any other face he had yet to meet. It was her. How cruel. At this point, he wasn’t sure if imagining the golden ring in her brown eyes when the light hit them perfectly, or the way her lips quirked crookedly when she was frustrated, the way her fingers were almost always cold, the way she put others before herself, the sound of her laugh, how she put his hands wherever she wanted them on her, the incredible trust she had in him from the start, her fearlessness, her compassion, or the gentle way she raked her fingers through his hair was a way for hope to build bolder in his chest or just pure torture.

Shifting his head, he glanced out the window. A part of him felt idiotic. Like, if he held onto the former he’d only end up crushed. In that same regard, how could he claim to deserve her if he cowardly let go? His fingers trailed up the ridges of his muscles, seeking out the golden heart that bunched with its chain and currently rested at the hollow of his throat. Even if everything worked out for the better, if he wasn’t fighting with everything he had to get her back all the while he’d have no right to look her in the eye and ask her to be with him again.

––

Kikyo walked through the garden, the brisk morning air awakening her senses as she read the novel in her hands, occasionally glancing up to make sure she wouldn’t walk into anything. They were two days away from the ball and she was growing antsier and antsier. She’d wake up every hour on the hour, and the anxiety of it all was progressively building so taut that she was afraid she would snap soon. This morning, to soothe her nerves before her father found her and dragged her to do god knows what in preparation of the wedding, she stopped trying for sleep and chose to walk the garden with a book. It had been hours already, and the entire castle seemed to be awake now. 

She’d avoided the hedges to not risk turning herself around while mindlessly walking with a nose in a novel, sticking to the portion with fountains and roses. Heavy footsteps caught her attention, and Kikyo peaked over the edge of her story, noticing the prince storming passed the entrance. With just the quick flash of him, she could tell he was distraught. They hadn’t spoken in a few days, and she was sure the quick-approaching wedding was messing him up just as badly as it was she. Still, she was curious to see where he could possibly be going with such fervor. As far as she knew, there was nothing in the direction he walked.

Kikyo poked her head out of the garden, scanning the area to make sure no one was around to see them. When she deemed them safe, she turned to watch Inuyasha walking toward the formidably-built wall that sealed the castle grounds, making a sharp turn at the back of a shed. Her curiosity was too invested now not to pry. He was heading down a narrow area between the wall and sheds, pausing at openings and then quietly trekking forward. He looked like he was about to do something sketchy, and if it was marriage related in the least - which was farfetched at best but not absolutely out of the question - she wanted to know.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a hushed tone, catching him just as he neared the corner. The prince froze, a clenched groan releasing from his throat as he reluctantly turned around.

“Nothing.”

“This definitely doesn’t look like nothing. What’s going on? You seem upset.”

“I am upset!” Inuyasha whispered, though the rancor in his tone was still evident. “Nothing’s working, they’re decorating, I saw seamstresses showing up, and I just - I can’t handle it all right now!”

None of that explained what he was up to. Kikyo guessed he wasn’t about to reveal this great and well-thought-out scheme that worked to break the contract, though, and she swallowed the mild disappointment. “Okay, that’s fine. I get it. So, you’re just going to hide back here until you feel better?”

“No, I’m going for a walk.”

She gave a quizzical look in response.

“Outside.” Inuyasha hesitantly admitted. He watched the slight perturbation harden her features, lips parting slightly as she brought the closed book she held further into her chest, a finger wedged between the pages to hold her spot.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“I have to see her.” He turned to grab onto a protruding brick as leverage, hitching a leg up to climb just as the princess snagged onto the loose sleeve of his Bastian shirt.

“Inuyasha, you're not thinking rationally. What are you going to get from this?” He didn’t answer. His ember eyes were sullen and dull in shade, but his rough features didn’t match the emotion behind his irises. He attempted to mask it all with frustration, but he wasn’t as successfully guarded as his brother. The prince could pretend all he wanted, but he was deeper than anyone she’d ever met before. “I think I've been too prideful. I'm starting to get worried. You're right, nothing's working. We may end up losing this battle. And if that’s the case, you’re only going to make this so much worse for yourself by reopening that door.”

“I don’t care.”

“But what about her?”

A sharp twinge thundered in his chest, and he gripped the brick so hard that the pads of his fingers scraped against it. “I’m going crazy, Kikyo. I can’t think straight. I need to see her.”

“I don’t think this is wise.”

“I’m not going for wise, I’m going for sanity.”

"You think a single visit with her is going to fix the madness you feel? If only life were so easy. I understand where you're coming from, please believe me, but with the progression of things happening here, this wouldn't be fair to either of you."

"Stop trying to talk me out of it!" The prince gritted.

“Inuyasha -“

“Look, I’ll just be gone for thirty minutes. Tops. You can lecture me about how stupid I am then, okay? Let me go.”

Her brow crinkled sympathetically, and she wanted to try to prevent him from leaving again but this wasn’t her business. If he wanted to take the risk, found it so necessary just to think a little more clearly, who was she to force him to back down? If she knew of a way to get satiation from her own plaguing and terrifying situation, he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of it either. Kikyo let go of his sleeve, taking a step back while nodding as understandingly as possible, and he didn’t waste another second, scaling the wall and dropping over to the other side with a thud.

He ran through the woodlands, his heart beating rampantly as he knew he was getting closer and closer to her cottage and the general area of the forest he first met her in. He could only hope she was around these parts, because he wasn’t sure what the hell he’d do if she was in town. His chest heaved as he slowed, listening for movement, inhaling to catch her scent.

It was like everything in him jolted to an abrupt stop, his breath catching in his lungs alarmingly, chills spiraling over every inch of his body as her sweet aroma wafted into his nose. She was close. Really close. When he first dropped everything to come see her, he thought he’d run straight up to her without pause to relinquish the cloud that loomed over him, yet here he stood, his boots weighted to the earth as a nauseating feeling rooted deep in his core to communicate just how horrible an idea this actually was. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t need to relive those emotions he saw vividly on her face that night when no matter what was said and done here, he’d still have to head back to the arranged marriage he was trapped in afterward. The sudden voice of reason reverberating through his mind sounded an awful lot like Kikyo, and he silently cursed the princess for providing logic when he least wanted it.

Inuyasha heard her footsteps traveling closer, and it took everything he had to bite back the aggravated grunt and step behind the thick trunk of a tree. What was he thinking? What was he doing here? She was a mere number of feet away and the distance was receding, the sound of cracking leaves beneath her shoes heightening his torment as she rounded a small bend so agonizingly close to where he hid. The least he could do was peak over to see her. Every night, he’d asked himself if she was okay. He was left with the sight of that devastated expression, and he needed it out of his head.

The prince inched toward the side, the back of his shirt catching along the bark as he leaned to see Kagome. Her back was facing him, but she’d stopped along the unmarked path, her head swiveling to the side but not far enough for him to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face. He stepped out further, desperate to see her features, the plush of her lips, the curve of her nose, anything more than the back of her dress and her long, black hair, but he’d bent too far and there was a noticeable knock against the tree from the scabbard of the sword dangling at his hip.

Kagome swiftly turned around, brown eyes scouring the area. She’d thought she’d heard something, like a soft rustle, and was just about to dismiss it as a small animal before she heard a distinct clank that didn’t seem to belong in a forest. 

“Is someone there?” It was stupid, she knew, but her mind immediately pictured the prince appearing before her, his short, silver hair as tousled as usual while giving that typical grin he wore when he was happy to see her but didn’t like to be too obvious. Her stomach flurried at the thought, pulling her forward with a false hope she'd subconsciously created on her own.

Inuyasha held his sword firmly, hating every inch of the damn, inherited thing at the moment. She spoke and his muscles flexed uncomfortably. She stepped toward him and he held his breath. He could hear her coming forward and as carefully as possible, he followed the curve around the tree, avoiding anything that could crackle or make noise so he wouldn’t give himself away again. 

As senseless and unreasonable as it was, it didn’t stop the disappointment from swelling thickly in her abdomen. The area she’d thought she’d heard the noise from was empty; not even a chipmunk sped away to tip her off. There was nothing. No one. What would he even be doing out here? It was just her imagination running wild again. Her torturous, unfair, hyperactive mind. Sighing unsteadily, Kagome turned around and headed back toward the route she was on.

He took the opportunity to look at her then. Her pace was hastened, strands of dark hair billowing behind her shoulders. As she made a small turn and he finally saw the side of her face, the warm hue of her cheek, the pink tint of her lips as she worried the bottom, Inuyasha felt a powerful sensation overwhelm his system. All at once, he was absolutely overcome with fury and passion. This wasn't how things were going to work out for him. He refused to pine for her explicitly in the shadows, wondering what his life would be like had this entire mess not occurred. It hardly even seemed like the arrangement benefitted their people, the only person winning being Onigumo. No. He was done with this game.

Since when do you sit around and sulk until given your way?

So, what are you going to do to change your own fate?

He was a valiant prince, he was undoubtedly the product of his father, and he'd be damned if he'd be seen as anything otherwise. Inuyasha could guarantee that there was no way in hell he was backing down from this fight.

After making sure the coast was clear, he hopped back into castle grounds, avoiding all attention as he made his way into the main household. The place was bustling and lively, everyone working to get the place ready for the event, and he nodded plainly to smiling caretakers as he bounded up the stairs two at a time.

"Where the hell have you been?" Miroku asked, running up by his side and keeping stride.

"Out."

"Nice. Figured. Where?"

"Miroku."

"Hey, look, I get it. You don't like what's going on, but stop taking it out on me. I'm on your side, remember?"

"Where's Sango?"

"In your study making it look like you've been working."

"Great, go join her."

"No."

"Mirok-"

"No." The aide grasped the prince's arm, pulling him into a nearby room for privacy and shutting the door. "We've been as patient as possible with you, but how long are we expected to keep this up? You're not acting yourself, Inuyasha!"

"Oh, god!" He groaned. "Look, I don't have time to hear how shitty I am right now."

"Why the hell not? What exactly were you heading to do? Because last I knew you've been avoiding your schedule, avoiding Kikyo, avoiding work, avoiding us -"

"I was heading to try and fix this!" Inuyasha hissed, shutting the knight up. "And that's all I'll tell you! I can't go into detail, and until it's handled, I need you to stay out of my way! Go with Sango!"

Miroku bravely neglected the order, giving a faint shake of his head. "I can't do that."

"I'm serious, Miroku."

"I'm perfectly aware, but so am I. You've said just enough to peak my interest. What's going on?"

"I can't go into detail!"

"Can't or wont?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! Are you under specific orders not to, or are you -"

"Fine! Wont!"

"Why not?"

"Stop!"

"Tell me, Inuyasha! I'm your right-hand man! If there's anyone that should know what you're up to, it's me! Now what are we fixing and how?"

"No, I don't want you getting involved in this!"

"Oh, don't be so noble." Miroku rolled his eyes, lolling his head to the side. "If you're about to fuck some shit up, I want in."

Inuyasha flinched in surprise, registering his aide's determination. 

"I may work for the crown, but my loyalty lies with you. Sango would say the same."

"You don't understand. This could potentially be borderline treason."

Miroku shrugged a single shoulder.

"Tell me now, are you sure?"

"Absolutely." The knight said without hesitation.

Inuyasha was still apprehensive about bringing his friends into this. If anything happened to bring him down, he'd always planned for Miroku and Sango to stay oblivious so they weren't at risk. The steadfast look in Miroku's indigo eyes was piercing him now, and there was no way he'd be allowed to leave the room without giving him something to go off. Logically thinking, the more numbers he had to help him see this through, the higher his chances of success. Miroku was now aware that something was up, so they may as well all raise hell.

"I don't have a definite plan yet, but hopefully by tonight I will. I'll discuss it then with you. Meet me in my office around eight-thirty."

"Yes, sir."

The prince brushed passed his aide, leaving the room and heading straight back on path, following his nose and marching toward the back staircase to the third level. Chances were, Kikyo was in the middle of something wedding-related. It would be impossible to meet in private right now to hash ideas out with how crazy everything was around the place, but he needed to at least let her know so she could try to sneak away at some point.

He followed his nose, coming up on a room where he could hear seamstresses complimenting her figure and discussing colors, multiple operatic voices ringing at once. How the hell was he supposed to get her attention without anyone else noticing? It wasn't so busy on this floor, at least, but that didn't mean he was clear to stop.

The door to the room they occupied was closed, and the brash part of him highly considered banging on it, throwing it open, and angrily demanding a moment with the princess as if he was ordered to spend time with her by the king. There had to be something a little more inconspicuous to attempt before escalating it that far, though. Before he could fully think of another idea, he caught the scuffle of footsteps approaching around the far corner. Swiftly, Inuyasha threw himself into the adjacent room, grateful that it was empty given he hadn't checked to see if he could hear anyone in here beforehand.

The prince took in his new surroundings. He was in a bedroom. A claimed bedroom. Kikyo's scent overtook the place, and he grimaced at the thought of how inappropriate it was for him to even be here. If anyone found him, the indecent rumors that would follow would probably kill him more gruesomely than a sword ever could. And he'd much rather go out by blade any day.

Boisterous laughter flooded through the walls, and Inuyasha turned toward the one the rooms shared, noticing a door that fortuitously adjoined them. He snuck over, carefully twisting the knob so the springs wouldn't be heard, opening the door a mere inch and a half and peaking through to the next room. He couldn't see anything from the angle, but the ladies' voices boomed through vividly, almost hurting his ears. Another inch, and he caught the sight of a larger lady. She held up some sheer, dark purple fabric, shifting the subject to the waistline she used to have back in the day. Another inch, and he glimpsed about half of Kikyo standing on a small stool in a short, white dress. She was facing him, though she hadn't noticed the parted door, her brown eyes - or eye, given what he could actually see - glazed over in annoyance. He poked his head out slightly, almost snapping his fingers to catch her attention but stopped himself before he risked catching the other women's, as well. He waved his hand once, twice, more aggressively the third time, and when she finally perked in bewilderment, he quickly put a finger to his lips to keep her quiet and then gestured for her to come over before shutting the door and tucking himself back into the quiet of her room.

"Excuse me, ladies." He heard Kikyo say through the wall. "I need to use the restroom real quickly."

"Oh, of course, Your Highness." One of them enthusiastically spoke, her tone high and dramatic. "We'll make sure to save all of our good stories for when you get back."

The princess feigned a laugh so obvious even Inuyasha snorted. "Can't wait."

She pushed through the door, shutting it quickly and leaning against it. It took only half a second for the prince to gather just how see-through the chemise she was wearing was, jerking his head to the side with a grimace. "Jesus!"

"What!? It's a fitting, Inuyasha, of course I'm not going to be dressed!" She hissed vehemently, smacking his arm with the back of her hand before hiding her chest behind folded arms. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We need to talk." He said uncomfortably through clenched teeth, eyes trailing over the walls and ceiling. 

"Now!?"

"Obviously not. Preferably when you're not in your underwear. When do you think you can get away?"

She took a moment to think, hunching her back uneasily to further hide herself. "Um - I'm stuck here for however long they need me. They're literally putting the majority of my ballgown together today. Hopefully, it should only take a few hours or so, but we just started like fifteen minutes after you left. How did that go, by the way?"

"It didn't -" He interrupted himself with a huffed groan, trying not to stammer as he stayed on subject. "We'll talk about it later. Try to be free around five and meet me in the closed-off library around the corner. No one's ever really around that area, so you should be fine. There's a room inside off to the left. I'll be in there."

She nodded promptly, waiting as he carefully snuck out through the main entrance of her room before mentally bracing herself for the seamstress' conversations to continue. 

––

To Kikyo's surprise, Inuyasha was right. There was no one around to be seen as she cautiously sauntered up to the closed door. In fact, the lack of people threw her off so much that she'd passed up the library twice while looking for it, thinking she was in a restricted zone of the castle.

The hinges creaked loudly as she pushed through, only opening the door wide enough for her slender body to slip in before closing it as it was. The room was smaller than the library they'd spent days in, dimly lit in yellow and surrounded by shadows. The air was stale and almost musky, not a book out of place from where she could see. The entire area gave her the creeps, so she pushed herself to search the wall to her left for the room she was told to find. Kikyo stepped further, worried she'd ventured into the wrong library for a moment, traveling down the furthest aisle and sighing out when she finally found a door. Inuyasha was staring out at the land from his seat in the alcove inside, ember eyes meeting her as she entered the small room. 

"You couldn't have picked a more ominous place?"

"Would you have preferred a place we could have been walked in on?"

"Well, no. But I don't mind meeting in non-haunted areas, either."

"It's not haunted." Inuyasha chuckled, shifting his legs off the cushion to sit forward. "It's my father's collection, so no one disturbs it. That's all." 

"Good lord, is his casket out there too?"

"Actually, yes. They've mummified him and his body's in the third row. Want to see?"

"Absolutely not!"

"I'm kidding, you sissy! I didn't expect this side of you; your getup is like gothic central." He laughed, standing from his spot to offer her the only seat.

She dismissed the jab with a scoff, taking the alcove cushion and smoothing down the front of her dress. "So, what happened?"

"What do you mean?" He knew what she meant, but there was a huge part of him that hoped she was actually alluding to the urgency behind meeting up today.

"With her. I don't remember her name."

"Nothing. I - that's not what I wanted to talk about." The prince shook his head.

"Come on. Tell me. I've been dying to know since the moment you left."

"Literally nothing." He conceded with a begrudging shrug. "You were right, it wouldn't have been fair to her."

"Oh, so you didn't even see her?" The princess asked, sort of taken aback by the idea of Inuyasha defying rules just to casually turn around thirty seconds later.

"No, I saw her. She didn't see me. I didn't let her. I - I froze." Inuyasha leaned his shoulder against the nearest wall, avoiding Kikyo's curious stare. "It's fine. I mean, I hadn't even planned out what I'd wanted to say to her, I just felt this driving need to see that she was okay."

"Was she? Did she look okay to you?"

"I couldn't tell, I only caught a small look at her." He answered stiffly, refusing to go too deep into detail of everything that little glimpse did for him. That was his motivation. That was his fire. "But listen, if we're going to get out of this we need to act. We're running out of time."

Kikyo's brown eyes fluttered down, her mouth opening as she gave a small huff and shook her head, almost defeatedly. "Inuyasha, I already told you that there's a chance we aren't going to win this. As far as they know, we haven't spoken in days and they're perfectly fine with it! I broke a table for heaven's sake! What else are we supposed to do?"

Inuyasha tensed. He knew she was feeling at a loss from this morning, but up until then she'd been the queen of confidence. Quite frankly, it was disturbing to see her losing her spark. It seemed like Sesshomaru wanted them to break the clause just as much as they wanted it, as well. He couldn't help, he admitted that. It was up to them, and he fully believed that now that the king felt insulted, he wouldn't do a single thing to stand in their way. Sesshomaru was petty like that, which worked in their favor.

"Between you and I?" He asked steadily, ember eyes meeting her dark irises. Kikyo looked at him inquisitively, her brows furrowing minutely. 

"Of course." She agreed, her tone soft.

"Sesshomaru's not happy with your father's deceit, and he's planning to get him back. It'll be even harder for him to do so unless we break the engagement."

The princess sat up straight, lurching forward slightly as her expression twisted in surprise. "He's not going to retaliate in a war, is he?"

"No." Inuyasha shook his head. "No, if he wanted that, he'd just rip the damned contract up in Onigumo's face. I honestly don't know what he's hoping to do, but I think it'll be more like pinning him the same way your father's pinned us. Which means, we've got one less obstacle standing in our way."

"You say that like it's supposed to be easier now or something." She slouched back a bit, temperamentally. "My dad is thirty times more manipulative than I am. So much so, that I'm ashamed my mind works remotely in the same way."

"Kikyo," Inuyasha stepped forward, the air of him undaunted as he kneeled in front of her to look at her evenly. "Do you still want to be royalty?"

She leaned away, somewhat uncomfortable with their close proximity and the unwavering determination in his eye. "No." She had to control her tone so the statement didn't sound like a question.

"Did you still plan to denounce yourself?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Do it at the ball."

Kikyo's shoulders slackened, brows raising astonishingly.

––

Kagome quickly ran across the small field dividing her home from Kaede's, ignoring the closed sign and throwing the door open then shut as she ran through to the apothecary's bedroom in the back. The door was open, and she grasped the doorframe when she stopped, poking her head through to see the elderly woman smoothing the top half of her grey hair back into a clip. She noticed Kagome in her aged mirror, turning to look at her as thin strands fell loose from her fingers.

"Help me." She pleaded, almost panicked.

"With what, child? Did a snake get into your house again?" Kaede asked half sarcastically due to her assistant's unnerved demeanor, dropping her hair. 

"If there's ever a raging fire next door, you'll know the answer to that! Come on!" Kagome bounced on the balls of her feet. "I can't figure out what to wear! This is an emergency!"

The herbalist followed her out, unable to swallow her disbelief. "You mean you're going? You didn't seem so clear when I asked yesterday."

"Seems sort of mandatory to me."

"Kagome."

She slowed just outside her door, trying to ignore the weight on her chest that increased with the passing minutes. "It would be wrong if I didn't go."

"Yet perfectly understandable."

"But he's doing this for the country. For his people. It had nothing to do with me. At least, that's what I'm choosing to believe." Her eyes inadvertently drifted to the floor. "I know my status and all the glory that comes with it, but I also know that didn't matter to him. There are - there are bigger things than me, anyway! I should be supportive!" Kagome feigned perkiness, dismissing it all with a wave.

Kaede studied her for a moment. The girl had a huge heart and never liked to make her burdens anyone else's, but she could still see how hard it was for her to cover the pain of it all. Kagome was going to have to see the man she loved next to another woman. That was no easy feat for the boldest of characters. Having had a relationship with the royal family for years now, she could only imagine the prince's dismay if the roles were reversed. Nonetheless, if Kagome felt like she was up for the night ahead of her, she'd stand by the girl through and through.

"Alright, show me our options!" The old woman smiled, entering her assistant's cottage ahead of her. Kagome sighed nervously, crossing the room quickly to the two dresses that rested along her bed. 

"So, I don't actually have any gowns of my own; these are ones I took from my mother when I moved out here, and I can't even tell you the last time she wore them." Kagome fiddled her fingers before reaching for one of the dresses, holding it before her body. "This one says I like maroon. That's it. That's all it says."

"Nonsense," Kaede approached, examining the looped design stitched around the bateau neckline, and gliding her fingers down to bring the cuffs of the long, slender sleeves up to see the similar pattern. Along each forearm, a black string laced up, starting at the inner corner of the wrist and expanding to twist all the way up to the middle of the upper arm which she imagined would hug in a very simple yet beautiful manner once she actually filled it in. At the bottom of the gown, the same design outlined the edging, bringing the plain and solid dress to look elegant. "This detail is gorgeous. Did your mother make this?"

"No, I think this is my grandma's work. It bodes well that you like it because -" Kagome laid the dress back on her blanket, switching out for the light pink one next to it. Unlike the first dress that had a natural waistline and fell and dragged with its own length, the one she now held had a few ruffles to spare. "This one says my mother went through a bedazzling stage."

The apothecary grimaced, her entire face contorting as she extended out one of the bell sleeves. It wouldn't have been so bad if the bodice wasn't decorated in gaudy, cheap jewels of different shapes and colors. "Oh, dear no. The color can't even save this dress."

"Maroon it is." She sighed raggedly, dropping the gown back where it once was, not even minding the crumpled heap she set it in. 

"You're anxious." Kaede pointed.

"Me? No." Kagome shook her head, loosening the front ties of the dress she currently wore to slacken its hold around her waist. She knew she had very obvious isms that gave her feelings away; fidgeting hands, avoided eye contact, a higher notch in her voice. The only way to hide them was to keep herself busy. If she stood still, it was like everything that was going through her mind was plastered on a poster board for everyone to see. 

Kaede turned the maroon gown over to make sure the lace that scaled the back would be loose enough for the girl to slip into, not needing to do anything when she realized it wasn't made to be tightened. "It's okay, you know? I think I'd be more worried if you weren't."

"He wont notice me, will he?" She asked, stripping her clothes over her head. There was a battle raging in her mind, one of the many reasons for her distress, showing her how scared she was of the entire ordeal but also turning around to tell her how self-absorbed she'd be to think that he'd notice her in the sea of people that will be there to support this arrangement. "No, of course he wont."

"Kagome, you're in your own head. Relax. It's going to be fine."

"No, you're right. I know. You're right."

The elderly woman bunched the ends of the skirt up a bit, holding the gown in a way that would be easier for the girl to put on. She fit into it rather easily, the dress falling beautifully along her body and to the floor, hugging her waist innately. "Just stick by me the whole night. If you're ever uncomfortable, we can leave."

"Oh, I wouldn't bother you with that."

"Please, child, I've got old bones. My ankles are swelling just thinking about the shoes I'm about to wear. I would not be disappointed in the least if you wanted to head home." Kaede laughed, successfully bringing a chuckle from Kagome. She observed as the girl adjusted her sleeves, the cuff of them falling to cover the majority of her hands and only leaving her fingers exposed. In an effort to help, she pulled the neckline up, noticing it was a bit loose in the chest and it wasn't hooking around her shoulders as snug as it should have.

"Uh - yeah, mama is a bit more well-endowed than I am." Kagome said, grinning sardonically while she took over to struggle with the way it landed on her. Finally, with a minor shift of the dress around her breasts, she managed to get the bateau to hold at the very edges of her shoulders. Only minor adjustments needed to be done to the lacing around her arms, and she smoothed her palm over some of the wrinkles that had long set into the fabric.

"You look beautiful." Kaede smiled, gently guiding her to sit on her bed. She ran her fingers through Kagome's hair, pulling it to the front. "I say we leave your hair down. What do you think?"

"It's not too messy?" She grimaced.

"It's not messy at all. You've got a little volume, and it looks good on you, lass." Kaede replied, scrunching up the thick waves further to allow them to fall as they pleased. 

"Kaede -" Kagome scoffed.

"Hush. Now, to top it off, do you have a necklace you can wear?"

A tingle fluttered through her stomach as she thought of the golden heart hanging loosely from the chain around the prince's fingers, a mild smile curving her lips. She shook her head. "No, I - I think I misplaced the one I had."

"Just as well. You don't need it. I think you're ready, but if there's anything else you'd like to add, you have time. I'll just go finish up myself and we'll head off." The old woman headed out the door, shutting it behind her. 

Kagome walked over to the small, worn mirror on her dresser, trying to get a good look at herself. She was unbelievably nervous, her fingers beginning to tremble, and she worried about her face going pale with her sickening nerves. With more pressure than normal, she pinched the sides of her cheeks to add some pink to her skin, hoping the flush would last all night. It wouldn't, but it was nice to pretend. To go along with it, she pressed her lips together, sucking and nibbling a little to ripen the color of them too. That, she knew she could keep up for as long as necessary; it happened to be something she did when she was awkward. 

After slipping on her boots, she left to wait for Kaede next to the road, grateful the length of her dress hid her feet. She wouldn't necessarily say they clashed, and she knew she could easily get away with them if they were seen, but boots would never be described as elegant and she didn't need anything else to disturb the edge she stood on. The two of them walked toward the castle in near silence, the weight on her chest progressively getting heavier and heavier the closer they got. The sun was mostly set, the lights shining through the windows of the tall towers glistening, and her lungs clenched to make her exhale shakily.

They followed the mass of people, dressed to the nines to appear as wealthy as possible, through the front gates, all of them greeted by guards on duty. The designated path was illuminated by torches on posts, all aligned perfectly straight in two rows to guide them all toward the steps to enter the castle. To the left, large double doors were open, symphonic music playing to attract their direction to shift, a huge and spacious room welcoming them in to dance and roam and mingle with every invited person.

"You doing okay, dear?" Kaede politely checked in, her attention not too obvious as she lightly patted Kagome's forearm. She'd been playing with her sleeves to keep her fingers busy, trying to distract herself enough to dwindle the pressing against her lungs.

"I'm okay." She nodded, following the apothecary toward a couple that had hailed her over. Her brown eyes drifted over the crowd of people as the other three fell into small talk, slowly gliding over the wading waters of heads, and gowns, and tuxedos, searching, seeking, sinking, rising, then finding.

Inuyasha stood facing Miroku next to the thrones on a makeshift stage at the very far end of the ballroom, his heart giving a thunderous beat against his ribcage as the familiar and wonderful scent met him. His core clenched incredibly tight, unable to help his instincts as ember eyes scoured the crowd to find her, almost homing in immediately when her own landed on his gaze. What sort of torture was this to have a distance he couldn't cross to meet her? And yet, through the dense clouds of his longing, he watched her smile warmly at him and it was like the light of the moon began to shine through.

His brother's voice tore him back to his remorseful reality, making him shift his attention away and filling his chest with the brutal ache of incompletion. "What?"

"Where is Kikyo?" The king asked, his tone low to not tip off Onigumo whom was speaking with a guard of his own several feet away. 

"I don't know." Inuyasha responded, the answer genuine.

"Go find her. She should be with you." Sometimes it was hard to tell if Sesshomaru was actually on his side with the way he still tried to push them together. He may not know their plan for her to step down tonight, but for someone who wanted them to succeed so he could, in turn, make a move on the king opposite him, he never seemed to show a similar agenda. Still, Kikyo should have been with them all by now, he was right, but it was like his feet were too heavy to carry him out of the room just yet. "What is it?"

"I didn't know she'd be here tonight." The prince admitted in a whisper.

Sesshomaru hardly reacted, knowing full and well who his brother was talking about. "Ah, yes. Consider it incentive." He said as Inuyasha and his aide finally walked away.

At just the mere collision of their sights, she felt a heat spread through her body, like she was being served an ill-suited reminder of the sensations he's always provided her with. Even when she knew she wasn't allowed to love him anymore, her entire being rebelled against the plot and caused an erratic drumming within the cavity of her chest. She loved him. She loved him. And for that, she smiled. Because who could say they were lucky enough to experience the depth of emotion that currently swelled in her heart? And as the king came to speak to the prince, she still couldn't bring herself to look away, the dance of golden iron molded around Inuyasha's head becoming more evident as he turned. It was a simple design, metal waving in a thin line until the swirls became more elaborate at the temple and the front, easily hidden by his silver hair. A part of her felt bitter for his brother's role in separating them, but she swallowed the salt and told herself to forgive him. His intentions were bigger than her. This entire thing was bigger than her, and she'd humbly tell herself that until the day she was able to move on. Inuyasha left and Sesshomaru almost immediately found her stare, slanted eyes falling over her. The magnificent crown atop his head shined beneath the twinkling lights of the ballroom, creating an ethereal glow from the gold and jewels. It was impossible not to be intimidated. The uniform he donned was similar to his younger brother's - black and lined with golden accents, but his chest was decorated in metals galore. Two braided ropes looped over his shoulder - whereas Inuyasha had one - and a purple sash that the prince didn't share embellished across his chest, all of which was completed with a matching, black and gold belt. With a face as smooth and straight as stone, the king nodded at her, turning away to go about his business.

“Incentive.” Inuyasha grumbled, marching through the halls of the empty floor. “What the hell do you think he meant by incentive?”

“Hell if I know. I mean, you both pretty much want the same thing now, so I think it’s fair to say he’s had a change of heart.” Miroku said, stalking along at the prince’s side while fighting to keep his eyes off his partner. Sango had joined them just outside the back ballroom doors, walking up in a dress she couldn’t stop fiddling with - clearly uncomfortable and impossible to ignore. In Miroku’s opinion, the gown was a godsend. It squeezed her torso perfectly, accentuating her breasts in a way their uniforms never could. Even when she went around without the coat of it, the black shirt she usually donned still never did her justice.

“Change of mind.” Inuyasha corrected. “The guy doesn’t have a heart.”

“Alright, maybe he changed his mind. It may be possible that he’s not going to stand in your way when it comes to Kagome anymore.”

“I want to believe that, but it might be too good to be true. He only changed his mind because Kagura ripped him a new one and Onigumo took advantage of him. He hasn’t done anything for me.” They turned a corner, quickly approaching Kikyo’s room.

“Who cares?” Sango shot. “The facts stand. He wants out, you’ll get out, and Kagome is here. Why don’t you stop overthinking everything and just roll with it? I can guarantee that from this point on, you’ll mostly be improvising anyway.”

He huffed, annoyed that she was right, but before he could retort, he noticed that Kikyo’s scent didn’t end at her door. It extended down the opposite half of the hall, attracting Inuyasha to follow it through, guiding them toward the back stairs instead of the front that everyone usually took. All the way down and out the rear of the castle, Inuyasha’s pace hurried, his concern building. Where the hell had she gone at a time like this? Her scent carried them toward the stable house, and he jogged the rest of the way, giving a curt order to his knights to keep watch outside.

Quietly, he slid through the entrance, ember eyes instantly landing on the distracted princess clumsily attempting to climb aboard a horse. She was dressed in her ballgown, dark purple beginning boldly at the highest point and fading to lilac with a gradient effect by the bottom, the full and thick skirt making it an evident struggle for her to even shove her foot through the stirrup of the saddle. 

Inuyasha cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

Kikyo whipped around unsuspectingly, the small tiara on her head falling loose, her hands barely catching it in time to keep it in place. The bodice was tight on her, the neckline shaped like a heart and accentuating the swell of her breasts as her chest heaved up and down from her efforts. Thin straps held over her shoulders while the sleeves hung off the sides of her arms, the fabric of them sheer. Light pink flowers stitched the bottom of the bodice, white specks resembling baby's breath scattering the surrounding area and vanishing as they spread further down the skirt. The length trained behind her, the top, light purple fabric transparent while paler colors layered beneath to give the gradual effect, the translucency shifting to satin the closer it all got to her legs.

"I'm - uh - I'm leaving." She sputtered, tossing the strands of long, black hair that curved over her shoulder to the back.

"What!?"

Frantically, the princess shushed him, dark eyes highlighted in eyeshadow glancing toward the door then back at him.

"What do you mean you're leaving!?" He questioned, lowering his tone while the edge kept its incredulity.

"Just what it sounds like! Think about it, I'm going to have to leave anyway. May as well get a jumpstart."

"Think you can spare five fucking minutes to do the job first?"

"No, Inuyasha listen." She glanced at the door again, paranoid that someone would come in and interrupt. "I was up all night thinking this through, and I don't think denouncing myself will matter to my father. He said he wanted a marriage to his daughter to be the ties of the alliance, word-for-word. Princess or not, I'm still his daughter. The only way to beat that loophole is to take me out of the equation entirely."

"So, you're just going to run!?" The prince couldn't help how worried he increasingly felt. As far as he knew, she had no experience on the streets alone. This was going to be the biggest culture shock she'd ever experienced, and she'd be lucky if the only thing it did was knock her on her ass. 

"Until my face is unrecognizable and my name means nothing." Kikyo said with a confident grin.

This was what she'd wanted for years. He could see the light in her eyes burning with a thousand fires, ferocity shining through vividly. She was terrified and excited all at once. He felt his own spirit calming, a passion stepping forward to help her see this out.

"Do you support me, prince? I'm going to be setting us both free."

"I couldn't stop you even if I tried." He chuckled. Kikyo turned to attempt and mount the horse again, kicking multiple times to free a foot from the heavy supply of her gown. "Okay, wait. That's not going to work. There's no way you can ride like that."

"I've seen it done before." She grunted.

"Not only are you going to break your neck trying, but you're going to be a dead giveaway. You need to lay low. Take off the dress."

"Pardon?"

"Seriously. It's not worth the effort, and your guards will easily track your scent." Inuyasha stepped back, giving two heavy knocks to the sliding door. Miroku opened it far enough to poke his head in and Inuyasha flicked his hand to order them both inside.

"What's up?" The knight asked, shutting the door.

"We need to get Kikyo something more suitable for horse riding; preferably clothes that don't belong to her. She's leaving."

"Oh, thank god." Sango sighed, stepping forward and turning her back to her partner. "Unlace me."

Miroku looked unsurely towards the prince, his shoulders stiffening before hesitantly reaching to untie the knot at the back of her hips. 

"You can have my dress, Your Highness." The knight offered. The material of her gown was much thinner and more flexible. Otherwise, Sango would have never have agreed to wear it in the first place.

"And what will you wear?" Kikyo asked, not wasting a second by reaching back and loosening her own bodice. "It might be too obvious if we switch."

As soon as the reins holding the dress against her were loose enough for her to slip through, Sango peeled herself out of it, revealing the thin chemise blouse and tight-fitted pants she donned beneath. "Don't worry." She smiled, hanging the dress over the side of a stable wall as she crossed the area to help the princess out of her clothes.

"Do you always wear full attire under your dresses?" Kikyo inquired peculiarly, taking full breaths as the bodice lessened its grasp on her.

"Believe me, when you work for Inuyasha you learn to always be prepared."

"So, that's a yes." Miroku nodded, hastily following Inuyasha's lead and turning toward the wall as she got further indecent. He lowered his voice as he spoke directly to the prince, letting the girls get situated in private. "What, exactly, is the plan here?"

"She's running. There's nothing more to it."

"How does she expect to get out? Guards are stationed everywhere with especially high security on all gates."

"Shit!" Inuyasha hissed. How had he not thought of that? There was no way she'd have a fair chance of escape with knights galore quickly on her trail. If they witnessed her running, they'd chase after her without a moment's notice. They needed to free the nearest exit. They needed to get her a head start before her kingdom raced to bring her back. He racked his brain, his mind continuously flinging back to the dozen torches illuminating the front path. Fire. "Miroku, the garden is closed off, right?"

"Last I saw."

"Set it on fire." Inuyasha said, making sure he was loud enough for the girls to hear too.

"I'm sorry, what?" The aide blinked, inching his ear closer to the prince in question.

"Set it on fire. The guards will run to check it out and the ones staying behind to stand post will be too distracted to see Kikyo coming. Sango, I want you to get her to the border as safely as possible; with her in your dress, your scent will be dragging anyway. After she gets you to the border, Kikyo -"

“I’m on my own. Got it." She nodded, adjusting the long sleeves of her new dress over her arms.

"With all do respect, sir, I'd feel most comfortable accompanying Sango. If they're slowed down or caught, she's standing alone against a handful of Naraku's guard's, if not more. She's my partner."

"Miroku, I'll be fine."

"No, I understand." Inuyasha agreed, furrowing his brows as he heard his aide out while kindly holding a hand up to silence Sango. "Get the spark going so enough smoke will attract the noses, then get your ass back here. I'll prepare your horse."

"Ah, arson. There's no sweeter way to go down." The knight smiled blissfully, slipping out the door where Inuyasha heard his boots quickly lead away. 

"One more thing, Kikyo."

The princess glanced over at him after throwing her dress over the side of the stable, the weight of the skirt pulling it to almost fall but the splinters of the wood snagged and held it up.

"My horse is faster." He said, gesturing to his mare at the far end of the stables with the flick of his head. She smiled, the brightest he'd ever seen from her, and he led her down the stalls. She was a calm horse, only slighting away a little as he opened the door to her nook. Immediately, he grabbed the saddle and began to dress her, securing it in place while Kikyo became acquainted with the animal. "Give her a name. She's yours now."

"She doesn't have one?"

"Nah, I've never really called her anything."

"Your sword has a name but your horse doesn't?" She giggled, pointing to the weapon secured to his hip.

"My father named the damn thing, not me." He laughed, backing away once he was done. "Come on, let me help you up."

"No. Tell me how, I need to learn for myself." She objected. He conceded, giving her the reins to guide the horse out of the stable. 

"Sango, show her. I'll get Miroku's horse going."

The knight responded quickly, her steed dressed and ready to go when she swapped places with the prince. Her directions were given politely but straightforward, instructing the princess on how to hold the reins as soon as her leg was thrown over the saddle. Inuyasha peeked over the animal's back as he set it up, watching the princess wobble slightly, clearly never having ridden a horse alone before. She was in for quite the ride tonight, and he wished he could see her complain of how sore her ass would be in the morning. 

The prince froze, catching the feint whiff of smoke in the distance, adrenaline kicking into high gear. He alerted Sango with a gruff voice and she wasted no time to back step and hop on her horse, steadying the animal with a pull on its reins.

"Wait, what happens now?" Kikyo questioned, her nerves vibrant in her tone. Her mare picked up her anxiety, dancing forward and back and she tried to mimic Sango's assertion by pulling on the rein in her hand, not quite sure how much force was or wasn't enough.

"Calm down, you're gonna be fine." The prince approached, petting down her horse's neck to calm it. "You need to be smart about everything you do from this point on, understand? You're not royalty anymore, and you'll have to lay low for a long time. You're leaving here with next to nothing, so you'll need to learn a trade of some sort as soon as you feel you're in a place you want to settle down. You'll need money, you'll need shelter, you'll need food and water, and you need to protect yourself however you can. Do not let your guard down. The world is unforgiving, especially to wandering women."

"I'll sell my necklace as soon as I can find a vendor." She stated, her fingers grasping the silver adorned in jewels around her neck. "And I'll figure everything else out from there."

"She'll get my knife before I leave her at the border." Sango assured.

"Good. Get a cloak and keep your head down. Hopefully, you'll never have to use that knife, but it's better to have it just in case. You're intelligent, remember? You can handle this."

Kikyo gave a wane smile in response, trying as hard as she could to fight off the sudden doubt she had in herself.

"Your tiara." Inuyasha held his hand out, and with an air of apprehension, Kikyo pulled the crown free from her hair. She gave it a grateful smile, breathing out and passing it to the prince. Despite how small the tiara was, it seemed she sat up straighter, a weight finally lifting from her shoulders.

"When I open the door, I want you to head straight to the gate on our left as fast as possible. You know which one I'm talking about, right?" Kikyo nodded. "Give her a kick and she'll race off. Sango will be right behind you."

She was unbelievably anxious, her fingers unsteady as she skimmed them over the horses groomed hair. She could do this. She was seconds away from the pursuit she'd yearned for, moments away from freedom, and soon she'd be miles away from this lost life. There was uncertainty riddling her mind and she could have backed down, but that wasn't the nature she was willing to be known for. This was it. The moment of truth.

"Inuyasha," Kikyo smiled, her voice betraying her attempt to feign conviction. The prince looked at her from his spot at the door, a fist gripped around the handle to open it at any given moment. "Thank you."

He grinned, wanting to return the gratitude as it was her that was brave enough to set him free, but the timing was clear. The sound of guards flooding toward the garden in the distance stampeded passed and as they faded farther, Inuyasha yanked the large, sliding door out of the way, watching as the former princess ran through the opening and away from the crown. Sango followed closely, the galloping from the steeds growing further, and his heart pounded ruthlessly, staying put while his other knight came jogging in to board his horse and follow them out.

"Hey, Kagome." A deep and familiar voice caught her attention as she stood alone, adjusting the shoulders of her dress as nonchalantly as possible and watching the couples move in the center of the room. Kaede had somehow been swindled into dancing, and every now and again she'd look over to Kagome with a wary stare, sometimes grimacing or mouthing in pain if her foot was stepped on by the old man with his arms around her. She glanced to her side, smiling at the knight.

"Hi."

"Would you like to dance?"

"Oh, please don't make me. I'm not graceful in the least and this is the last place I'd want to be seen stumbling everywhere."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't force you." Koga chuckled, nudging her arm with his elbow. "I'm expected to offer at things like this. I honestly cant stand these events."

Kagome laughed. Of course he had no choice but to be here; he worked for the crown and he literally lived on the grounds. She wondered how often the brute man was forced to dress up and play nice when he was naturally rough around the edges, one of the leaders of their troops, and Inuyasha’s main guy for missions. 

It was eerie how the music in the ballroom faded away, some strings being plucked but dying off as just about every demon in the room shifted uncomfortably. She looked about curiously, the dancing stopping, people murmuring, the man beside her going undeniably rigid. His blue eyes were focused sharply, aimed at the stage where his king and queen had frozen, the little girl between them looking just as put off as she, herself, felt. Kagome watched the foreign royal on the stage - another king, she presumed; there hadn’t been introductions yet - hissing vehemently at Sesshomaru, words she couldn’t make out over the growing rumble of the crowd. Then he made a forceful order to an obvious demon dressed in his land’s colors, the demand respectfully acknowledged, and the angry king stormed out the back in the same direction Inuyasha had left a while ago. 

He’d yet to return. She hadn’t failed to notice.

“Please, everyone, remain calm. Stay put. There’s nothing to worry about.” Queen Kagura held her hands up cautiously, speaking to the guests politely but sternly. Sesshomaru picked up his daughter, holding the nervous child close to his body as he pointed to a nearby, built guard and ushered him over. The knight didn’t hesitate, pushing through the crowd until he could climb on the stage with his leaders. The king spoke to him, then clearly whispered to his princess before safely handing her over to the protection of the soldier.

“What’s going on?” Kagome asked the man beside her.

“Smoke.”

“Smoke?”

The king and queen left through the back, the murmuring grew a little louder, Rin tucked her head in the crevice of her guard’s shoulder, other’s circling them to ensure her safety from whatever may happen, Koga grabbed onto Kagome’s forearm, and a slew of foreign soldiers crept in through the two entrances - some of them sauntering through the crowd, some of them lining the far walls, all of them blocking them in by closing the doors. Koga tucked her slightly behind his body, his grip never leaving her as he assertively kept her glued to him.

“Kagome, I want you to stay very close to me. Understand?”

The fear stacked inside of her. Something was wrong. Especially if the knight was so quickly alert, his free hand braced on the hilt of his sword. She hummed the affirmation he was waiting for, gasping as a man slowly made way behind her, smiling menacingly as his fingers dragged across the small of her back. Koga turned slightly, keeping her shielded by his protection as he stared down the passing guard who continued to taunt women he passed.

“What’s going on?” She tried again, tone a little more unsteady, clutching the hand he held her arm with.

“I have no idea. But something tells me it isn’t good.” He replied, eyes shifting back and forth over the crowd.

“Where’s - where’s Inuyasha? Shouldn’t you be with him?”

He didn’t respond.

“Koga.”

The knight finally gave a shake of his head, his long ponytail hardly shifting with how slight the movement was. “You want the blunt answer, or the simple one?”

Her stomach flurried, and she worried her bottom lip, tucking herself a little closer to his back as he broadened himself when another guard passed before him. “Blunt.”

“He’d kill me if I left you.”

Onigumo stormed into the courtyard, angered by the billows of dark smoke that cascaded upward, a furious orange glowing against the contrasting grey. “Where’s my daughter!?” He shouted. “Where’s Kikyo!?”

No one answered him, fighting the fire that was blazing in the garden.

“Kikyo! Kikyo!”

Nothing. He couldn’t help himself from growing frantic, seething, worried, angry, panicked, fearful, outraged. He hadn’t seen his daughter in hours, she hadn’t shown up at the ball, according to that damn Sesshomaru, the stupid prince was sent to find her, and now there was a fire burning in the yard. He suspected foul play immediately, but the pressing question of his daughter’s whereabouts weighed him down.

He staggered away from the unhelpful men and women, all of them too preoccupied with the show of flames to pay attention to his more important demands. The insolence. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils and overpowered any other scent that could possibly lead him to her, making his way around the grounds. As another knight ran passed, Onigumo snagged his arm, pulling him back to face the fury of his red eyes.

“Where is Inuyasha?” He asked steadily, his tone as menacing as he willed.

“I - I saw him just around the corner, Your Majesty. Near the stable house.” The man answered. The king immediately dropped his grip, stomping toward the large establishment, his scowl deepening as he soon spotted the untrustworthy scoundrel.

A groundskeeper was explaining how the fire could have possibly started, explaining quickly that it was already dwindling and under control, and Inuyasha nodded gratefully, his relief believable. He sensed the rage, heard the footsteps approaching, and glanced over to see the ridiculously-dressed king of Naraku trailing over, his cheeks a blustering red to match the irises behind his dangerously-slanted eyes. The prince excused the groundskeeper, turning fully to Onigumo, fighting the smile he so badly wanted to give.

“Where is she?” He growled, halting so quickly the large crown sitting on his head tilted. It looked heavy and expensive, the metal black and twirling high to resemble tentacles. Each leg was decorated in sapphire jewels, the color deepening in the darkness they stood in.

“Who?” Inuyasha asked, feigning innocence.

“You know damn well who I’m talking about, you half-blooded freak! Where is my daughter!?”

“I haven’t found her yet. I came out -“

“Liar!”

“- looking for her, the fire somehow started, and my priorities shifted!” He finished heatedly.

“You fool!"

"She's gotta be around here somewhere! If you're so worried, you can help me look."

"Where is she!?"

"I don't know! The only thing I can think of is she got nervous about the announcement and went somewhere to hide!"

"Bullshit!"

"You know Kikyo better than any of us; is there a sort of place she feels most comfortable when she's anxious?"

"Yes! Next to me!"

Inuyasha's facade broke then, a slow grin growing on his face. "Apparently not."

Onigumo grabbed the prince by his coat, the man surprisingly strong as he shoved Inuyasha back against the outer stable house walls. The crown had fallen off the king's head, rolling on the cobblestone until it caught in a crack, and Onigumo braced himself a mere inch from Inuyasha's nose. "You arrogant prick! How dare you pretend to know the relationship I have with my daughter? You want to know how I know you're so full of shit? Because a fire just so happens to coincidentally break out on the day of one of the events the two of you dreaded so outwardly, and now Kikyo is nowhere to be seen. You think you're so clever; I can see the conceit written all over your face, but your brain isn't as quick as mine. You can't get out of this arrangement, even by hiding my daughter. Did you think the two of you pretending to like each other in order to work together would get me to back down? The announcement will be made tonight no matter what, so tell me where she is!"

Inuyasha laughed, fighting the quiver in his muscles to push the king away, his fingers flexing at his sides to restrain his control. "I'm not lying, I don't know where she is. By now, she could be anywhere."

Onigumo's eyes widened, a sear of heat racing through him as he pulled Inuyasha forward just to slam him forcefully against the wall again. "Where is she!?"

"Are you worried about her safety or your deal, Your Majesty?"

"I demand you tell me!"

"Your orders mean nothing here!"

He paused, chest heaving up and down, his grip on the prince's uniform tightening. "What have you done?"

"What makes you think I've done anything? Maybe it was all Kikyo?" Inuyasha smiled, loving Onigumo's reaction to twist his glower more emphatically. "Did you ever stop to think maybe she wanted out even more than I did? Maybe she lit the fire to distract everyone. Maybe she's made some grand escape."

The king lifted a fist, throwing it against Inuyasha's face as powerfully as he could manage, the circular, purple jewel adorning his middle finger shattering against his mouth. 

The prince staggered to the side, fully released by the foreign king, and it took everything in him not to turn back and retaliate with a punch of his own. Instead, he recovered with a dragged hiss of breath, the taste of copper filling his tongue, hiding how enraged he was with the same grin that got him decked. Onigumo marched toward him and Inuyasha didn't flinch, his fist raising again but before his assault could be made, he was grabbed by the crook of his arm and yanked backward.

Sesshomaru stared down the opposite king, venom swirling in his glowing, ember eyes as he used the palm of his hand to shove Onigumo even further away, hitting his sternum with a force that knocked some air from his lungs with an audible wheeze. "You dare throw a hand at a prince!?"

Onigumo scoffed, the sound dramatic and raspy. "To a king, he is nothing but beneath me!"

"You not only offend royalty in a land where you have no authority, but you impudently think being a king gives you the right to attack my brother! You are not immune to punishment here, Onigumo! Not where I'm concerned!"

"Your brother has overstepped so many grounds, yet you stand there and raise your voice to me!? He accuses Kikyo of desertion! He offends royalty just as crudely, and he deserved -” A sudden realization dawned on the foreign king's face and he whipped around, pulling the stable house door open. Stepping in, his jaw dropped wider and wider, observing the empty stables, a leadening sensation sinking through his abdomen as he neared the wall her ballgown was draped over. Her tiara rested on the sheer fabric at the crest of the skirt, the single jewel in the center holding no sparkle.

"Oh, no." Inuyasha said, his tone sounding calm and overly rehearsed. "My horse is gone."

"What have you done!?" Onigumo bellowed, setting the remaining steeds on edge.

The prince slowly dragged his thumb along his bottom lip to wipe away the trickle of blood, smirking as he gave a shrug.

"What is the meaning of this!? Was this all a ruse to break the contract!? Nothing has changed, do you hear me?" The king stomped toward the prince again, his long, obsidian hair swaying enthusiastically back and forth. "You all belong to me! Now more than ever!”

"Actually," Sesshomaru spoke, enunciating every syllable of the word clearly. Kagura stood just behind him, and it was like he could physically feel her unwavering support returning from the dead, strengthening his power move all the more. Time and time again, over the years and even more so recently, she forcefully reminded him that he was too blinded by his need for control. It was bold of her to speak to him in such a manner, but that was the reason he respected her so tremendously. Kagura was infuriating and outspoken. She fought for justice fearlessly - no matter who her opponent was. Long nights, they’d spent working out every minor and minuscule detail of this alliance, from ambiguity to the fine print, and as he put forth more effort to see her point of view, no matter how badly he still stood by his decision to help his brother mature like royalty should, she finally began to warm to him again. She provided balance. She was the true essence of a queen. "Quite the contrary. We held up our end of the bargain. Inuyasha is here and ready to be married, but where is his bride? Without the wedding, it seems we have no contract."

"You signed, Sesshomaru!"

"I did, and you fail to realize that without your princess present, your terms have been dismissed.”

“Don’t pretend this is on me when this was clearly a ploy! Inuyasha has just as much to do with this!”

“I don’t see it that way. He is here and Kikyo is not. What I find interesting is the threat you held over our heads if we pulled out."

"Oh, please." Onigumo laughed. “I don't think it would be wise of you to threaten me. You wouldn't stand a chance against my forces."

"I think we'd be just fine." Sesshomaru scorned. "Especially considering that the odds of us being backed up by your other allies looks to be in our favor." When the foreign king only responded with a deep furrow of his brows, Sesshomaru continued. "I find your plot to trick us into an alliance very detailed and well-executed. I'll admit, you almost had me. You attacked our fort to make it seem like a test of strength, and offered your forces to us with hardly any second thought. All to say you had, what did you call it? A notch in your belt for allying with The Great Dog Demon's Kingdom, and a pocket to our money? What do you think your other allies would say if word got out of your scheme? Do you think they might be skeptical you may have played them, too? On top of that, imagine how easily they'd turn on you if they knew our forces would be there to back them up. At that point, they’d only gain.”

Onigumo stared at the mighty king incredulously, his chest inflating with the offense he'd been served. Somewhere mid-speech, his body had shifted to fully face Sesshomaru, the scowl on his features creased profoundly and trembling with the amount of righteous fury boiling through his veins. "That's preposterous. You can't prove I did a thing."

"Maybe. But I'll give you thirty seconds to try and prove you didn't. Go." The foreign king said nothing, his expression twisting from shocked, to audacious, to insulted, the hollow of his neck emphasizing from the tension climbing over his body. "That's what I thought. I'm willing to let this go for new terms. There's no need for war. I'd hate for your attention to be distracted when you're obviously so torn about your daughter being missing. Clearly, you'll want to put all of your effort into finding her. Am I wrong?"

"New terms?" He finally gritted.

“Of course. You didn't think we'd just shrug this off, did you? No, you've proven to be deviant and untrustworthy, so from now on we'll be keeping a very close eye on you." Kagura smiled, stepping forward with her shoulders broadened.

“We will have say over your army, we will contribute to your important decision making, and we will have access to the information and conditions to the other kingdoms you ally with. You will not have reciprocation in those departments. Don't worry though, you'll still have your notch in your belt, an alliance you can brag about, and your obnoxiously-inflated ego. In return, we'll generously keep our mouths shut and you wont be punished for your deceitful manipulation or striking our prince. If you object, you'll be stripped of your crown. With or without force.” Sesshomaru stated, a hint of venom lacing toward the end. 

“This is blackmail! You have no jurisdiction!"

"Hence, the force. Believe me, Onigumo, you do not want to make more of an enemy of me. Our military is just about as lethal as yours, but you knew that already, didn’t you? The difference here is unlike you, I ride to battle with my soldiers and I've taken heads."

"An outright threat on my life!?"

“That is completely up to you. You should consider yourself lucky I’m not directly jumping to challenge you. You’ve definitely earned the retaliation, but I am not completely innocent here either, and I know it. I was unwise and irrational. Therefore, I’m willing to work out the kinks in our agreement to work in both of our favors. Do we have a deal?” Sesshomaru cocked a light grin.

“You will regret this, Sesshomaru.” Onigumo absolutely seethed.

“So reject the offer and see if that’s true. The alliance was for precautionary purposes. We need nothing from you. Be peaceful and back down, or see how quickly the world will turn against you. Kikyo already has.”

“You bastard!”

“Do we have a deal?”

Onigumo's chest rose and fell heavily, smoke practically leaving his nostrils with his temper, his entire face red and defeated. It was a moment, a long moment, before he notched his chin upward, and hissed a clenched, "Yes."

"Wonderful. We'll have the contract written up immediately and it will be signed in front of our audience tonight." Kagura said. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Sesshomaru." Inuyasha stopped his brother as the three of them began to walk towards the castle, the king sauntering back his way so their voices could hang low. "You know what I want to hear."

"You set my garden on fire. I don't owe you a thing."

"Sesshomaru."

"I thought it'd be obvious that the wedding is off what-with your fiancee being M.I.A.. I didn't think I had to tell you."

Inuyasha rolled his ember eyes, shaking his head as his aggravation climbed. "Stop dancing around the subject."

The king paused, sighing out as he turned to walk away. "She's here, isn't she? Do whatever you want."

The air was incredibly stiff, guests almost completely quiet in the ballroom, and Kagome was ready to throw an elbow at the next soldier that touched her. If it hadn't been for Koga's attentive guard over her, she probably would have lost her temper by now. She'd heard mumbling from passing knights about someone being missing, but nothing was clear. Not even Koga could make out exactly what was being said, and as many times as she urged him to go find out, he refused to leave her side. Even when she offered to go with him, all he did was shake his head and flex his grip along her forearm - a gesture, she gathered, was telling her to be quiet.

His blue eyes flickered to the larger entrance of the hall just before the double doors were opened, alleviating some of the pressure in the room. Koga's hold on her gradually slackened until she was fully released, and she followed his attention, noticing how the crowd began to part like a slowly receding sea, heads lowering in timely curtsies and bows. Sesshomaru entered with his own held high, leading the group as his wife walked just inches behind him - a proud and beautiful curve on her lips. The tiara she donned was gold and small. It spoke much of her power without having to dominate the scene, her demeanor doing the rest of the work. Behind them walked the foreign king, his expression flat but his eyes more menacing than she remembered. He made a vague gesture toward a nearby guard of his, and Kagome noticed them all begin to recede to the sidelines. She guessed he'd instructed them to stand down. At the tail of the pack walked Inuyasha, and her stomach instantly leapt into her throat. His face was straight, but even from the distance she stood, she could see his head seemed to sit an inch taller. Maybe it was just how he presented himself during ceremonies; she'd never witnessed it before. He was royalty, after all. He wasn't going to look anything less in front of a crowd. He looked proud. Brave. Handsome. Stoic. It was unfair.

They made it to the stage and her heart was beating horribly. Her brown eyes unintentionally kept flashing toward the doors. Where was his fiancee? If she didn't walk in with them, did that mean she was getting some sort of grand entrance? She looked at Inuyasha and he stood off to the side, eyes on his queen as she began to speak but Kagome wasn't processing her words. She wasn’t interested anymore in an explanation for the events of the evening nor the planned speech she could have very well been giving. Her fingers were trembling and she bit her bottom lip hard. Her breathing was rapidly becoming unsteady and her cheeks felt warm as she continuously thought of the princess walking in and taking her place beside the prince. Her eyes flashed to the door again. To Inuyasha. To the door. It was unbearable. She couldn't do this. It was too damn hard. She'd shown face; he knew she was there. She'd given her respects and it was time to take her leave.

Steadily, Kagome stepped back and as Koga glanced over, still as alert as ever, she could only communicate with the brisk shake of her head. He didn't try to stop her, didn't follow, didn't say a thing. The knight nodded understandingly, and she turned to inconspicuously make her exit, the weight never leaving her chest as she was freed from the ballroom, or freed from the castle, or even freed from gates. She imagined it should have gotten easier by then, but the cheering and clapping was loud enough to be heard outside and it intensified the density. Breathing was difficult and she tried to lessen the restraints on her lungs by taking tedious inhales and drawn out exhales. Her hands shook worse than ever as she fought off her onslaught of emotions, and she tried to busy them by fidgeting with the cuffs of her sleeves, pulling the other to cover her fingers as her nerves barely began to die the further she walked through the darkened and quiet town. 

Running footsteps approaching caught her attention, and as they came close behind her, Kagome glanced back to see who was coming, turning completely around in surprise as Inuyasha stopped. His chest rose and fell erratically, ember eyes glued to her as the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"Hi." He breathed.

"Hi." She hesitated, heart thumping so powerfully against her ribcage she feared he'd hear it. Just his unexpected presence had her legs feeling wobbly and light.

"You left."

Kagome sighed out whatever breath was left in her lungs as her eyes drifted to the floor. She honestly didn't think he'd notice. “Yeah. I - I was tired.” She poorly lied.

It was impossible to hide the sad quirk in his brow, and he swallowed thickly to try and keep his nerve about him.

Of all things for her mind to travel to, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d get in trouble for coming after her, or if he’d snuck away like all the times before. Either way, why? “What are - what are you doing out here?"

It was extraordinary, the amount of self control he found he had. She was so close, ten feet away maybe, nothing but air dividing them, and he was managing to solidly stand in place. A new feat for him when he was desperately aching to resolve this with some sort - any sort - of physical touch. That wasn't the way he would do this. There was so much to tell her. So much she deserved to know, and he’d be damned if he even let himself get in the way of that right now. "I needed to talk to you."

“About what? Is everything okay?”

“I want you to know how sorry I am about this entire ordeal. You didn’t deserve it. Any of it.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Her voice had died off as she shook her head, her whisper enough to convey her sincerity.

“Yes, I do.”

“You really don’t. I don’t bl-”

“Shut up.” He said half defeatedly. “Let me. It’s important that I start off with that because I know I let you down. And you’re gonna say I didn’t - yeah, I know you - but I did. You’re also probably gonna say it wasn’t my fault, but that doesn’t matter. Not to me. I was the one that made you cry. I was the one that broke your heart. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. And I am so desperately sorry.”

She shied her eyes away for a very brief moment, brown irises meeting him again with a mild guard. She didn't know where he was going with his speech, her core giving an unstable tremor from the plea in his voice. Was this his reason for running after her in the middle of the celebration? To apologize again just to turn around and walk away one last time? The thought was unpleasantly cold, and if that was the case, and solely the case, she wished he'd just go. “Inuyasha -”

“I’m not done.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’ll get to that. Just give me a chance, alright?”

There was conviction burning vividly within his gaze, and as he took two steps forward, her heart gave a thunderous pound. He seemed so bold, so eager to say what was on his tongue, his tone reaching her with direct intention - not a quiver to be heard. There was still evidence of trepidation in his body language, Kagome noticed, his breathing remaining slightly heavy and fingers twitching at his sides, and she couldn't neglect the intensity he was portraying with just the part in his lips. She yielded, throwing all her thoughts away, now wanting to hear what was on his mind just as badly as he apparently wanted to speak it.

“Why’d you actually leave?”

"Because it was too soon." Kagome apprehensively admitted, her voice involuntarily weaker than before. "I thought I could handle seeing you with her, but I was wrong. I got scared.” 

There was a painful twinge in his chest to know the thought of him with someone else hurt her so much. It shouldn't have been equally as satisfying, he knew, but god it was so gratifyingly good to know. He exhaled some heat, a small smile coming from it.

“The engagement’s off.” Inuyasha said. “You didn’t get to hear that part.”

Kagome's lungs hitched, her shoulders dropping their tension. Words evaded her, the news completely and entirely enrapturing her thoughts. She didn’t know what to feel, how to react, when to give up and close her mouth. The engagement was off.

“It’s over.” He assured.

“Really?” She feebly asked.

“Really. You have no idea how hard I’ve struggled just to get to this point. Right here. In front of you. I couldn’t do what they wanted. No matter what steps I took, it was always in your direction. Everything I did from the moment you left that day was to find my way back to you. I’ll never regret it.”

“What - what, exactly, does this mean?” Her voice was strengthening with her hope, he could tell, and as he leaned a little more weight to one side, the shadow of his body moved off of her and he witnessed the distant castle lights creating a heavenly glow on her cheeks. It attracted him like a moth to a flame, easily persuading him to walk the rest of the way to her. He ran the backs of his fingers over the smooth cloth of the gorgeous gown on her arms, feeling her shudder beneath his touch.

“That I’m so irrevocably weak for you. From the moment I pictured my life without you in it anymore, I crashed and burned. It only made me fight harder. You've not only captured my heart but my soul as well, and it's a gut-wrenching punishment from one rebellious act in the woods so long ago that I hope to never recover from. Kagome, I am so unbelievably enchanted by you. I love you. And nothing’s ever getting in my way of that again.” Finally, finally, Kagome touched him, her fingers fumbling with the edges of his coat. It was such a meager hold she had that increased and grew stronger with each passing second. Her breathing grew unsteady and her expression began to fold, but it was such a beautiful proclamation of happiness. Inuyasha caressed a thumb just beneath her eye, her smooth skin chilled from the night air, and he felt the push of her cheek as she smiled. “I choose you.”

She crumbled in the most wonderful way, bouncing to her toes to meet him in a sweet and blissful kiss. He clutched her beneath the crook of her jaw, his fingers molding around her ears and threading through her dark hair. The world around them quickly vanished. To her, it was nothing but him, the warmth of his pressing body, the tenacity of his wanting lips. Even through his clothing, his skin, his muscles, his frame, she could feel his heart beating against her own chest, the sensation growing more powerful to match her own as his arms wrapped around her waist to pull her closer against him. And as Inuyasha softened, his kiss slowing and parting away to hover and graze against her mouth, Kagome shuddered of pure contentment. He'd come back.

Epilogue: A little over a year later

An accident, some curiosity, a thought that sparked like the kindling she carried that day, oblivion followed by acceptance, and an intense desire to experience more. They liked to say it was fate and not luck, yet the two unconditionally felt like the luckiest beings to ever walk the Earth. 

"Don't get mad." Inuyasha approached with a wary smile as Rin excused herself from their interrupted tea party with a little more sass than was necessary.

"What did you do?" Kagome slighted, standing from her spot.

"Nothing yet." He chuckled. "But I have to leave for a few days."

"Leave?"

"Routine check-in with a fort."

"For a few days?"

"Something like that."

She braced herself, crossing her arms over her chest as she felt the skeptical twitch of her own lips. Kagome knew too well that Inuyasha's time management skills were nothing to be bragged about. "How long is a few days?"

"Like, six or seven." The prince bobbed his head back and forth while he estimated.

"Six or -  Inuyasha, our wedding is next week!"

"I promise, I'll be back in time!"

"You freaking better be, because I'm getting married with or without you!"

"It might be a little hard without me."

"Bet."

"Kagome, I'll be here. I promise." Inuyasha insisted, stifling his laugh as he stepped forward to cup her cheeks in his palms.

"For the record," She mumbled. "Few means three."

"Noted."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow. First thing in the morning."

"Alright, your time is up!" Rin stormed back through the door, curving right around her uncle, wedging her small body between them, and shoving his legs backward toward the exit. "It's tea time, I'm thirsty, and I don't remember inviting you!"

"You used to be so sweet to me. What happened?" The prince asked, stumbling as he turned around and pretended to resist her push.

"During tea, the only thing sweet here are the cookies. No boys allowed, you know better."

Kagome fiddled with the silver band on her finger, feeling the four leaves along their thin, metal branch twirl around the tiny diamond perfectly. No matter how many times Kaede attempted to convince her out of the shop, Kagome kept finding something to help with, preventing her success and bringing Sango to laugh from the corner she observed from. Ever since their relationship was made known and she was moved into the castle, the knight accompanied her everywhere. Being engaged to the prince made her vulnerable, and it was definitely something she had to grow adjusted to, but it helped that Sango felt more like her friend than her bodyguard.

"Kagome, for the last time, would you go home?" Kaede chuckled, pointing toward the door. "Your wedding is tomorrow! Do what you need to do to prepare; you know very well that I can handle things around here!"

"My wedding gown is fitted and ready, the general plans were decided on weeks ago, it's cute that you think they'd actually allow me to help put the decorations together, and I'd like to keep busy here since my fiancee has yet to return, anyway." Kagome responded, dropping her fidgeting to grind the plants harder in the stone bowl before her. "And even if he does get here on time, I give you no guarantees he'll make it to the ceremony once I'm done with him."

"Now, now. You know very well only the strongest of importances would hold him back, lass."

She rolled her eyes, continuing her overly-aggressive grind until the apothecary snagged the pestle from her grip and shoved her out of her stool, continuing to guide her toward the door.

"Hey - wait - hey!"

"You've done more than necessary. The shop is closed."

"It's not even three!"

"I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Kaede!"

"Sango, lock her in the bathhouse until she -"

"Alright, alright! I'm going. I'm fine. I'm going. No need to lock me anywhere." Kagome huffed, holding her hands up cautiously. Sango giggled, opening the door for them. As she wandered out, she tensed and froze, her prince standing just to the side with an amused and knowing expression on his face.

"I heard you. Was that a threat?" Inuyasha laughed. He loved the way her face shifted from shocked, to happy, to a forced pout of annoyance where she still had to fight off her smile. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said, brushing passed him as she notched her chin an inch higher, her smile inevitably winning over her scowl.

"Excuse me, where are you going?"

"Taking the woodland path back."

"Oh," Inuyasha chuckled. "Is that how it is? You're just gonna pretend you're not happy to see me?"

"Who's pretending?"

The prince ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and snagging her back to reset her in the general direction of the main road. "Nope, I'm taking you through town where you'll have to walk holding my hand or else everyone will know you're mad at me! And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"You must think you're so cunning, don't you?" Kagome mocked, laughing.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Get going." He gave her a shove and she continued as he wanted, sauntering toward the side of the shop to get to the road and spinning around to walk backward as she gave him a grimace.

"Fine, you can hold my hand. But I won't smile."

"I would never ask you to." He followed, grinning arrogantly.

"You're late, Inuyasha."

"By a day."

"Our wedding is tomorrow."

"I haven't forgotten."

"I should have known you were going to do this."

"I love your confidence in me."

"You really cut it close."

"For good reason."

"And that would be?" Inuyasha gestured for her to turn around with a nod of his head, and all she did was deepen her grimace.

"Temper still as hot as always, I see." A boy's voice rang, and Kagome swiftly glanced over her shoulder. A tall teenager with trimmed, black hair stood smirking about twelve feet away, shorter than her by an inch or so but resembling their father in more ways than she'd ever imagined. Just beside him, her mother cocked her head, the smile on her smooth and ageless face bringing Kagome's breath to silently hitch as she fully processed exactly who was standing before her.

It was astounding how quickly a prick stung at her eyes, her cheeks washing over in heat, and she turned completely around to face the two people she'd least expected to see; dumbfounded, speechless.

"Look how much you've grown." Her mother teared, brows crinkling as she lost her composure. Kagome ran to her, embraced in her mother's hold for the first time in so many years. She happily cried as she switched back and forth from her to her younger brother, gathering bits and pieces of their story of how Inuyasha found them and brought them out for the wedding. When she turned around to see the smug look she was sure was on her fiancee's face, she noticed he'd snuck away, most likely through the woodland path, leaving Sango to observe and walk back with them when they were ready.

––

Kagome leaned along the railing of her suite's balcony, staring out at the darkness of the forest, too excited to sleep. She'd already expected tomorrow to be such a perfect day from the moment Inuyasha had proposed. Now, with her own family included as well, she'd be walking on cloud nine toward her soon-to-be husband as opposed to the carpet that was carefully laid out. The breeze of the quiet night couldn't even chill the warmth still coursing through her veins.

A brisk rasp on her door brought her back to her room, her attention flying behind her as she wondered who could possibly be visiting her at a time like this. Figuring it was her mother, Kagome welcomed them in, stepping back to the carpet and shutting the balcony doors. The prince slowly entered, poking his head in first before sliding all the way through. She didn't even hesitate, her squeal of elation semi-hushed as she crossed the floor and sped to him, knowing full and well he'd catch her.

"I've been looking for you all day!" She said after a long-overdo kiss.

"I didn't want you to feel obligated to share your attention with me." He stated, keeping his voice down. It definitely wasn't the first time he'd broken the rules and snuck into her room late at night, but it was absolutely the last time he could and he'd be damned if he passed up the opportunity. That didn't mean he wanted to be caught and torn away. "You deserved your time with them."

"I never got to thank you, though."

"Well, I guess you can just thank me now." Inuyasha kissed her, his lips growing more greedy as he fervently backed her up, his hands around her waist to support any stumbling. She matched his enthusiasm, her fingers threading through his short, tousled hair, showing so much trust in his hold on her. Slowly, steadily, he leaned her back onto her bed, never ceasing the tempting dance of their mouths while he carefully situated his body over hers, hovering more towards the side as he carefully lowered himself down, one of his legs draped over her to rest his knee between her thighs. She followed his frame, curling to fit him as perfectly as possible as her hands wandered beneath the collar of his shirt and her leg hiked to rest over his.

"You're incredible, did you know that?" Kagome whispered, dragging a single finger along the thin chain that hung around his neck. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"So, you're not mad at me anymore?" Inuyasha teased.

"No, you're safe for now."

He'd spent time grazing her skin, laying with her, telling her about his trip to find her family with minor detail as he knew she was comfortable against his chest and getting sleepy, yet forcing herself to stay awake so she could hear every word. So he coerced her to crawl to the head of the bed with him, tucking them both beneath the comforter because she had a grasp on his shirt that told him he wasn't allowed to leave yet. She'd missed him and he'd missed her. The trip was entirely for her surprise, but it was still a bout of separation and this was how they coped. Every time. 

Kagome's eyes were closed but she wasn't asleep yet. Her fingers were finally warming after she bravely pulled his shirt from the tuck in his pants and gently rested them against the muscles of his sides. Her breathing was evening, and he softly raked his fingers through the smooth hair at her temple. She seemed so peaceful at his side, tucked into his body like it was where she was naturally meant to be.

"Are you happy?" He genuinely asked, never stopping the glide that soothed her. She opened her eyes, her fingers gripping him just a little firmer as she smiled.

"In a few hours, I get to call myself your wife and you my husband. I get to spend the rest of my life like this with you. Inuyasha, I am so far beyond happy."

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Int. | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING #I loved writing every word of this ding dang story #I don't think I've ever been so invested in something I've written before and this was just jdhlkjdhfgkjhdf #Like I really poured my heart into this one! #inuyasha #kagome #kagome higurashi #inukag #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fic #inukag fanfiction #inukag fanfic #inukag fic #inuyasha au #royal au #enchanted #my writing #akitokihojo

[advernia]

fic: flow like the river nile

 — oh, how we’ve all come so far. - pre-game, of four different men under one king.

Why do you fight? Lancelot Kingsley asked the first son of the Clemence family, just minutes away from his grand anointment as the new Queen of Hearts. I fight for your ideals and for the glory of our army, he declared swift and true, with pride oozing from every syllable. Gone was the little boy crying about his skinned knees and bruised hands, so upon hearing that response, Lancelot nodded.

However, Lancelot is sure that his right-hand man lied that day: if the Queen of Hearts would learn of what the King of Hearts now claimed to be his ideals, as the second-in-command he would follow; but as his own person, he would bear a heavy heart - the gold of his eyes appear cold and his tongue as sharp as his blade, but he was no mindless doll who would simply bend to a King’s will and callously draw blood. No, he was far more honorable than that, and he would go against whatever ideals and spit on the face of glory if only to make things right.

Jonah Clemence fights for his convictions, and Lancelot knows that much.

                                Why do you fight? Lancelot Kingsley asked the first son of the Bright family after a skirmish around the Red Bridge. I fight for it’s my duty, he replied with an ever-present smile and a calm to his voice; as if casually implying that one’s life purpose is to constantly be at conflict was perfectly normal. Still, he was the one who asked the question anyway, so upon hearing the response, Lancelot stayed silent.

And while he was truly inscrutable by nature, Lancelot fears that the Jack of Hearts spoke of a grave truth that day: there’s a hidden depth lurking in the jade of his eyes similar to a gaping void; a brooding vacuum that sooner or later would grow too large to extract himself out of - it’s the burden of a century-old transgression that forms his bleak shadow under the sunlight, paints his hands an undying and unforgiving red, and keeps his smiles from ever reaching his eyes.

Edgar Bright treats his duty as his death sentence, and it unnerves Lancelot that his theory almost sounds true.

                                Why don’t you fight? Lancelot Kingsley asked the second son of the Ash family after he had paid his respects to a fallen soldier’s grave. Who says I’m not fighting? came a curt reply, voice low and tone unmistakably bitter. The corners of his eyes were a light pink and his lips had formed a taut, painful line; and that gave Lancelot enough reason not to press on with the conversation any longer and just look away.

Now, with the possibility of war just lurking about at every corner, Lancelot becomes highly aware of what the Seven of Hearts meant that day: conflict demanded battles that brought about injuries resulting in blood and pain and even worse, fatality; but he chose to be the one to bear witness to all that with his eyes wide open inside the four walls of his infirmary, hands constantly sparing no effort in a cruel game against time to save someone’s life. Even without stepping into the battlefield and lifting a sword himself, his hands have also been stained with much blood, blood that may find its way back home or end quietly at his mercy.

Kyle Ash has his own battles against life and death, and Lancelot respects the fact that he still chooses to fight them on his own.

                                Why do you fight? Lancelot Kingsley asked the child his father had spared years ago, who now grew and stood as tall a full-fledged soldier. To repay my debts, he says after a short while, and nothing else followed. It’s a brief reply that speaks just enough of its significance to the person who said it, so Lancelot felt no need to ask for further clarification.

But watching him grow into a skilled and respected swordsman over time, Lancelot continues to hang onto the hope that the Ace of Hearts could someday find a better reply than what he said in the past: he may owe the army his life, but the army could never give him a life beyond the handle of a sword in his hands and a pledge of selfless service - if all is said and done, and he had paid his debts to the best of his ability… what did he intend to do with himself from there on?

Zero has possibilities waiting to happen, and if the person himself couldn’t realize that just yet, Lancelot would be patient enough to wait for that day to come.

                                1: i intended my ‘inktober’ challenge of sorts to be composed only of original pieces, but today’s theme was incarnadine and frankly i’m red army trash, so… *shrugs loudly* 2: initially the question was what is your duty (to allude to that one part of lancelot’s route), but i eventually found fight to be more fitting instead; since the former speaks more of what they’re meant to do. the latter comes out much broader than that. 3: trying out a new format again, and hopefully the tenses aren’t confusing haha;;; but tbh tenses and i never worked out lololol

#ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #lancelot kingsley #jonah clemence #edgar bright #kyle ash #ikerev zero

[madara-fate]

Were you on Team Armin or Erwin in terms of who was to get revived with the Titan serum? Also, how did you feel about Bertolt's death?

I wasn’t on anyone’s team in particular, but when reading the manga I was always fairly certain that the final decision was going to be in Armin’s favour. I could certainly understand both perspectives - They were both excellent tacticians with a wealth of intelligence at their disposal. The main difference was that Erwin was essentially the present, whereas Armin was the future. Taking this into consideration, I always felt as though the present was already in very good hands because I have the utmost faith in Hanji’s capability as the next Commander of the Survey Corps, therefore focusing on the future with Armin always seemed as the smarter choice for me.

From a pure soldier’s perspective, it makes sense that they would want to revive their Commander. It’s like Levi said, a soldier can’t be expected to not do anything to revive their Commander; He should generally be their priority:

And while I’m sure that there was some emotional incentive behind Levi’s decision to revive Erwin, it was definitely a lot less influenced by emotion than Eren and Mikasa who were running very high on emotion and sentimentality.

Despite this, they too had a point when claiming that The Survey Corps would be just as lost without Armin, because all the times when Armin came through for them, as listed by Eren, were undeniable:

But again, it came down to the present vs the future - Because while Armin did indeed possess the credentials to continue formulating battle strategies to match Erwin’s, he didn’t possess the Commander’s leadership; That magnetic personality that was able to inspire his soldiers to follow him into hell itself:

This was also crucial to their successes, because it’s one thing to come up with a plan of action, it’s another thing entirely to have the will to carry out said plan, and Erwin was one of the most motivational speakers that I’ve ever seen.

But I think one of the key factors in swaying Levi’s decision from Erwin to Armin (in addition to wanting Erwin to finally get the rest that he so deserved), was the fact that Erwin had already come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to see the basement, whereas Armin’s dream was still burning bright:

Because “Everyone always had to be drunk on something”, right?

As for Bertolt, I’m fine with his death from a writing and plot perspective, but I always couldn’t help but feel as though it was a little bit of a waste, because I always wanted to see more of what he was capable of now that he had finally found his resolve and assertiveness.

From very early on, we were made aware that Bertolt is very highly skilled as he was placed 3rd overall among the graduates of the 104th Training Corps:

That immediately caught my attention because he was ranked higher than Annie, and we all witnessed just how skilled a fighter Annie was up to her eventual capture, so this made me really curious to see why Bertolt placed so highly. However, we just never really got to see him in action to showcase the skills he possessed in order to validate his ranking. I’ve mentioned how we saw plenty of Annie’s feats of skill, but we also witnessed plenty of the same for Reiner, and Mikasa obviously needs no further explanation. Therefore, Bertolt was among very talented company, but we never saw why he was there.

It wasn’t until the Battle of Shiganshina that we finally saw just a glimpse of Bertolt’s true potential. Prior to the battle, Reiner alluded to the fact that Bertolt actually possessed the greatest innate ability out of all the Warriors:

But it was always his lack of assertiveness which hindered him from being able to truly showcase his talents. This was referenced really early on as well during their initial training in the 104th Training Corps when Kieth mentioned how despite Bertolt’s immense talent, his lack of initiative was slowing him down:

That’s why I was so glad when Bertolt finally found his resolve as a Warrior during the battle. He wanted to redeem himself for his lack of composure from the last time he was made to face his former allies, and steeled himself under the notion that both sides where simply fighting for what they believed in:

And although it was very brief, Bertolt was indeed finally able to showcase the great ability and immense talent that Reiner and Kieth respectively had alluded to, because not only was he alert and quick enough to be able to block Mikasa’s initial sneak attack, but he was also actually able to repel her and hold his own against her before retreating in order to avoid a 2 on 1 situation:

And when remembering that this was Mikasa we’re talking about, who’s second only to Levi in the entire series in terms of battle prowess, then Bertolt’s display here becomes even more impressive. He found his resolve, and was finally being the soldier that Reiner always knew he could be. It was like the equivalent of Gohan unlocking his potential in Dragon Ball Z; His mind was clear, and he was no longer being hindered by his own indecisiveness:

So with all that being said, I just couldn’t help but pity him during his final moments. As he woke up, he saw Titan Armin coming for him and began screaming in despair, but he soon noticed that his former allies were present, and a slight smile and a faint glimmer of hope flashed across his face:

It was almost as if just for a moment, Bertolt had forgotten who he was (just like Reiner), and genuinely believed that his former comrades would actually come to his rescue. But when he realised that they weren’t coming, I think he quickly remembered the circumstances of his predicament, and it was saddening to hear him desperately crying out for Annie and Reiner to no avail:

I always couldn’t help but wonder that if Bertolt had possessed these determined and self-assured traits while training in the 104th Corps, how highly would he have ranked? It was Reiner’s own admission that Bertolt’s ability outmatches his own, and if the latter’s showing against Mikasa was anything to go by, then it’s fairly safe to say that Bertolt is among the very best fighters in the series. But alas, we only got a few seconds of glory to show this before his untimely demise. That’s why I always felt that his death was a little bit of a waste - He had so much untapped potential that we had only just begun to scratch the surface of.

#Armin Arlert #Erwin Smith #Bertolt Hoover #Levi Ackerman #Mikasa Ackerman #Hanje Zoe #Attack on Titan #Shingeki no Kyojin

[lordendsavior]

In the latest episode of HBO’s new NSFW teen drama Euphoria, there was sex scene between Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson. Well, kinda. One of the characters in the show, Kat (played by Barbie Ferreira), is famous online for writing One Direction fan fiction, specifically about Larry Stylinson, the name given to the theory that Styles and Tomlinson were, in fact, lovers. The sex scene in the episode actually comprised of versions of the two former boyband members in an animated scene lifted from one of this character’s stories. It’s unfortunate that the animation left Styles looking a little like Lord Voldemort and Tomlinson like a sweaty teenage boy. 

But while that aspect of the show might not have been real, the conspiracy of Larry Stylinson very much is. Since One Direction were launched off the back of The X Factor in 2010, Tomlinson and Styles have been dogged by rumours that they are embroiled in a love affair. On Tumblr – a breeding ground for fan theories, fan art, fan videos and fan fiction – fans would collect GIFs, images and videos of the pair that “proved” that they were in a relationship. A lingering glance was decoded as a lustful stare, the brush of knees during an interview a sign of a secret intimacy. These in turn would mutate into smutty fan fiction about the pair, where these unspoken sexual wants could play out in full explicit glory.

In the tradition of Bennifer and Brangelina, their names, like their desires, were brought together for the portmaneu Larry Stylinson. Shipping them – the act of wanting two people to be together romantically – became a way of life for some fans. To this day, these fans, known as Larries, are unwavering in their belief, love and support of Larry Stylinson.

The same cannot be said for Louis Tomlinson. For nearly nine years, he has been dogged by rumours and speculation about his relationship with Styles. This latest outing of Larry in Euphoria is just another example of the theory’s pervasiveness. After the scene aired, some fans on Twitter messaged Tomlinson to see if he had been consulted about the scene. His reply was telling. “I can categorically say that I was not contacted nor did I approve it,” he wrote.

For years, Tomlinson has categorically denied that Larry is real. In 2012  he responded to a fan stating that “Larry is the biggest load of b——- I’ve ever heard”, and in a 2017 interview with The Sun, the Doncaster-born singer said that he found the rumours disrespectful of his relationships with women and shared how it had also affected his friendship with Styles. “It took away the vibe you get off anyone. It made everything, I think on both fences, a little bit more unapproachable,” he revealed. “I think it shows that it was never anything real, if I can use that word.”

The decision to include the animated Larry sex scene in Euphoria has provied divisive. On Twitter, One Direction fans have dubbed it “disrespectful”, “vile” and an “embarrassment”. Even self-professed Larries called out the scene and some fans went so far as to start a Change.org petition to have the scene removed from the episode. (At the time of writing it has over nearly 17,000 signatures.)

The fandom’s rejection of Larry, at first, seems hypocritical. How can the very people who have spent years perpetuating the narrative that Tomlinson and Styles are romantically linked show annoyance when that same narrative gets utilised in wider media? However, fandom, specifically fan fiction, is a contradictory and confusing beast. The thing is, Larry Stylinson is bigger than the two boyband members at its core. Their supposed romantic relationship really has nothing to do with them at all.

To give a brief history of fan fiction, the medium, while it always existed in some form, came to prominence in the 1970s in fanzines for the TV show Star Trek. Then known as slash fiction (the slash refers to the forward slash that divide the two characters, for example “Kirk/Spock”), these early writings reexamined scenes within Star Trek episodes where it appeared that there was coded queer behaviour, language or sexual tension. A chance meeting on the bridge of the USS Enterprise could result in steamy sex behind a computer console. A violent clash with a Klingon that left either Spock/Kirk injured, may end with a restorative tryst in a hospital wing.

As fan communities evolved from zines to online forums, so fan fiction became more widely accessible. Forums gave birth to sites like fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org, where every intellectual property from Harry Potter to Bob the Builder was free game. And not every story written was sexual, either. Many fan fictions, while romantic in nature, kept their plots suitable for all ages. They also mainly took fictional characters and queered formerly heteronormative (or platonic) senarios.

Incorporating of real people – celebrities, public figures, popstars, actors, artists – into these stories propagated during this online boom of fan fanction. Portals like nifty.org had dedicated sections for celebrity fan fiction, while sites like Wattpad, a sort of social media site for writers to share their work, filled with stories about famous people. During One Direction’s imperial phase, Wattpad especially became a hive of 1D fan fiction.

And not all of it was slash fiction, either. Anna Todd’s popular YA novel After, which became a movie this year, had its beginnings as One Direction fan fiction on Wattpad. That story featured a heterosexual relationship. Her literary success follows in the footsteps of EL James, whose Twilight fan fiction was repackaged as 50 Shades of Grey.

Nevertheless, it’s fair to say that much fan fiction, smutty or not, specifically draws on queer narratives. The reasons for this are multi-faceted. Demographically, fan fiction is predominantly written by women. In the case of Spock and Kirk, it has been argued by academics that in queering their relationship, women were able to carve out safe sexual spaces in the world of fiction away from the dominant glare of patriarchal sexuality.

According to fandom academic Camille Bacon-Smith, the fact that the gender of the characters was the same allowed women to reconstruct men without the toxicity of masculinity. The American writer Joanna Russ added to this, suggesting that in this safe space, women were able to explore their fantasies outside the confines of heteropatriarchal normalcy.

In fact, Constance Penley, a professor of Film & Media Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, wrote in her book Nasa/Trek Popular Science and Sex in America that the gender of the characters was irrelevant. The act of having characters acknowledge their homosexual desires, she argued, was a metaphorical one, grounded in a desire to change “oppressive sexual roles”.

Still, exploring sexual desire with fictional characters doesn’t feel like an ethical problem. Neither, really, do private fantasies about real people. But fan fiction takes those private fantasies and makes them public. If authors like JK Rowling and Annie Proulx (Brokeback Mountain) take umbrage with fans writing their own stories using their made up characters, how do real people feel about having their lives dissected and fictionalised for entertainment?

The problem is the blurred line between celebrity and the human being. As celebrity’s lives playout on websites, television and physical media, their real life stories – often fabricated for headlines or sales – become a sport. There’s a twisted sense of ownership over these people. The public, as a throbbing and beating entity, made them famous. Their payment is their lives. The boundaries begin to disappear, and these human beings become characters in a soap opera. The internet, which its unending ocean of content, only helps to conjure more moments that fans can decode or adapt for their fics.

The implications of this are different for everyone. Stars like Benedict Cumberbatch and Andrew Scott, who played Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty respectively in the BBC’s cult favourite Sherlock, take the fictionalised versions of their lives in their stride. In an interview with MTV, Cumberbatch, while acknowledging that he found some of the racier stories weird, called it “flattering”. Daniel Radcliff and James McAvoy also seemed to be able to find the humour in it (although, again, acknowledging that they find it “really weird"). There’s also those who just outright ignore that this phenomenon exists.

Harry Styles, despite being one half of Larry Stylinson, has only ever alluded to it once. After the release of his debut solo album, fans speculated that the track Sweet Creature was about Tomlinson. In an interview with a radio station, Styles said: “I think people are always gonna speculate what songs are about, and I don’t think I’d ever want to tell anyone that they’re wrong for feeling what they feel about a song. Even when they’re not necessarily right. But I think if you really listen to the lyrics, I think you can work out if it’s really about that or not, and I would lean towards no.”

However, this level of ambivalence isn’t always easy. In a recent interview with British GQ, Taron Egerton expressed his discomfort with people writing fan fiction about him. “I don’t know why people think I’d want to see that,” he said. “I don’t love it at all.”

It seems that Louis Tomlinson exists firmly in this camp. And unlike these other celebrities, the ship he was involved in evolved into a full blown conspiracy theory. Fans accused management of keeping his and Styles’s relationship a secret. Paparazzi pictures, performances, interviews, press cuttings, tweets and Instagram posts were dissected for clues that the pair were linked. Tomlinson and Styles were bombarded on Twitter by fans, the first comment under every post on social media almost always being “Larry is real”. That level of scrutiny would have been difficult for anyone, but for a teenager progressing into young adulthood it was unbearable.

What’s debatable is whether any of these fans and their libraries of “proof” and “receipts” actually believe that Larry Stylinson is real or whether shipping them is just an extension of their fan fiction fantasies. For the millions of One Direction fans, the members of the group, while clearly real people, were also mythic, so far removed from their realities that they were almost imaginary.

Anyone who has ever truly obsessed over a band or musician can understand that this distance between true human interaction incubates a need to develop an alternative form of intimacy, be it through listening religiously to their music, attending concerts or cooking up fantasies.

And because of the inequalities in knowledge between celebrities and non-celebrities, where we know everything about them and they know nothing about us, these fantasies, and in turn our perceptions of them, become skewered. This mutation is the perfect breeding ground for fan fiction and conspiracy theories as we attempt to fill in the blanks in our intimate knowledge of celebrity lives.

In the case of One Direction, whose fans were mainly young girls and gay boys, this fantasy  became a way to explore their own sexual wants and desires. It’s what the showrunner of Euphoria, Sam Levinson, told The Los Angeles Times he was trying to convey by having the character of Kat write 1D fan fiction.

The fact that the members of that boyband were in a similar age bracket only intensified things. Intimacy and a coarse understanding of celebrity saw the lines between fantasy and reality blur, accelerated and magnified by social media. In a way, it stopped being about Styles or Tomlinson and became about the fans, the community they’d found, a safe space to explore their desires in which those desires were often mirrored and supported by others in their community.

Does all that make real person fan fiction okay? Speaking to i-D, sex psychologist Jess O’Reilly, put it like this: “How might is make someone feel? How would their parents, partner(s), kids or friends feel about reading it? How would they feel if their friends and family read your work? How would you feel if someone published a similar story about you, your child, your partner, your best friend, your sibling or someone else you love?”

For Tomlinson, who has repeatedly shared the impact the sexual speculation had on his relationship with Styles, maybe a line has been crossed. His discomfort with the theories and fan fiction, along with countless other public figures who take issue with it, should be respected.

And, really, in the pantheon of fandoms, Larry Stylinson was its own perfect storm of burgeoning internet cultures, the proliferation of social media and cute boys singing pop bangers. The need to share sexual desires in fan fiction and, by extension, romantic celebrity conspiracy theories, feels more complicated than mere right or wrong, but rather an expanse of grey, ethical ambiguity.

It also feels too late for it to stop, too. Perhaps, as the role and makeup of what constitutes celebrity evolves, accepting fan fiction in its myriad of forms, like with gossip and rumours, is par for the course. Clearly, it’s up to the individual to figure out if they’re okay with that.

#this is a very decent take on RPF

[tarralin]

4. Orchid

This is the continuation of Diabolicus. You can find my other works here. 

Thank you to @alloveroliver and @xathia-89 for beta reading and support!

Enjoying my work? Buy me a Coffee @ http://ko-fi.com/tarralin

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

~*~

They came to an accord. A needless one, truly, but an accord all the same. Kennyo had already decided not to interfere with her nightly creations before she stated that was one of her terms as well as agreeing to the same herself. She would craft the environments but would not alter them once he arrived to the Dreamscape.

It was odd having an agreement without the bindings of a formal contract but, for her, he was not opposed to it. And did they not bargain something for greater than the usual price? Something more valuable than a soul upon collection time?

They exchanged names.

Names had power over an entity for all time and—when given to those who knew what to do with them—even soulless demons like himself could be subdued with the right incantation. An exchange of names, however, created an invisible bond that could grow under nourishment or fade to null with neglect. Such bonds were popular among witch covens and allowed them to share a collective power source that grew with each new member. But a demon agreeing to such a thing?

Unheard of… but he proved it possible.

The bonding, for him, meant greater depth to the fleeting twinges of emotion he'd experienced since meeting her. Some warmed and swelled within him while others chilled and sought to bring him to his knees. As foreign as they were, he came to terms quickly with the new found sensations and he wondered if this was that ‘light’ she originally saw mixed within him. Demons shouldn't have these. Demons shouldn't have light.

Yet, for the first time in centuries, he could feel. Not just understand the internal driving forces of the mortals, but had them of his own. Joy at the new lives that were born to her village. Sympathy for the sick she treated. Sorrow at the passing of those she couldn't.

All of which he continued to observe while hidden behind the veil.

Kennyo knew she needed time to adjust to the situation just as he did. Along with the appearance of their own novelties, there was the phenomenon of the shared connection between them. A sharing of emotions. A linking of minds. Sometimes, images flashed across his eyes that should have belonged to her. Showing himself on the mortal plane would only add undue stress. He’d always been an oddly patient demon, he could wait a while longer.

Aside from the shared connection with him, the bonding honed and sharpened her empathic abilities. The townspeople’s internal musings seemed to turn visible for her like an open book. With a single touch, she knew immediately what ailment needed tending. She could locate his presence in the veil easily throughout the day and usually waited at the portal entrance of her dreamsphere each night.

“Kennyo,” she sang his name merrily as he stepped onto a fisherman’s pier nestled along a mountain lake. It was a morning scene with the first rays of a new dawn ghosting through the opaque mists wafting off the water's surface. In much the same way his name on her voice pierced through the tangled mess his insides became at the sight of her.

“My Lady,” he wrapped his arms around her as she leaned into him, resting the back of her head on his shoulder and smirked up at him.

“You disappeared for a time today. Did Mrs. Johnson’s child birthing unsettle you that much?”

“Not at all,” he chuckled under her ear as he thought on his next words. “I was called away for… business.”

A sudden chill flashed across his conscious from hers. “Is everything alright?”

“Never better.” He grinned against her neck and allowed her to feel the Pride that had swelled within him at the first successful contract against her former brother. Pride was a warm emotion, it would melt away the ice caused by Fear.

The routine continued for several weeks. She’d taken to calling him her ‘Shadow’ as he’d observe her schedule and activities throughout the day then discuss them in dreams at night. Snow had started to fall and that meant more sickness would spread through her township. She had worked ahead over the warmer months to build up a stock of salves and dried herbs for broths, but even that wouldn't last the winter. Most days, she spent all daylight hours in her garden shack—greenhouse, she called it—to cultivate and harvest as much as she could, staying out well past dusk most nights.

Kennyo could feel her growing tension through the bonding and wondered on why she wished to remain on the mortal realm.

“Why not become an Angel?” He finally inquired one night. She'd crafted a beach scene this time with a near full moon hanging in a sky peppered with softly shining stars and the occasional streak signaling one’s fall. Their fingers played lazily, intertwining just to withdraw and repeat the game again while she relaxed with her cheek resting on his shoulder.

“Guardians are only ever bonded to ten mortals at a time and Crossroads work would only be dissuading those who’ve already made a decision of their own free will. As I am now, I can help far more people than I ever would as a full Angel.”

He felt his lips pull into a smile and, in that moment, he knew what it was to behold true glory and he wondered how he hadn’t been banished back to Hell already. Surely no angel could ever think so purely. Crossroads only turned mortals away from contracts while Guardians were often allowed to forgo their true protective duties.

Kennyo shook his head and, again, marveled at the circumstances that led him to her until he noticed the indigo sky turning lighter with each passing moment.

“Dawn approaches.” If he had his physical body, he was sure she’d nearly shatter his ribs with the sudden grip she possessed. He nuzzled his favorite spot below her ear. “I'll return tomorrow, of course.”

“Mmm, yes tomor—wait, no!” She pushed up onto her hands. “Not tomorrow, it's a full moon and I need to tend the garden when my magic is at its peak.”

“Oh, that’s your secret to the miracle remedies, is it? You, My Lady, are a witch.”  

“I haven't an inkling as to what you’re alluding to, My Shadow,” she grinned as she settled back onto his chest, teasing her nose across his. “I’m a simple medicine woman who grows her own herbs.”

He nuzzled her back until dawning sun awoke her, a plan forming in his head. She still hadn't guessed his race and he suspected she still thought him a dream wraith...

It was time he met her outside the Dreamscape.

~*~

It was past midnight now.

Kennyo had listened to her mill about the greenhouse for the last hour, bouncing on his toes the whole while. What am I doing here? Why am I doing this? What if I scare her? What do I say?! ‘Hi, here I am. Have a plant!’ Certainly not!

He’d always known what to say to the mortals in his years of dealsmithing and he had no trouble speaking with her these past weeks. Why was this so… frightening? He chuckled without humor. He survived centuries in the Fire before serving centuries more as a Crossroads Demon and yet facing a woman is what frightened him? Kennyo was suddenly thankful for his Lady’s proficiency with wards. The hut’s invisible barrier was the only thing keeping his inner turmoil from her as he picked up three pebbles about his feet, careful the potted gift in his other arm didn't tip out.

With a final mental slap, Kennyo paced as near as the warding would allow him and in quick succession, tossed the pebbles against the door to mimic a knocking hand. All movement in the greenhouse ceased and silence filled the night. He quickly gathered another set of pebbles and repeated the action which earned him the sound of footsteps approaching the door, he stared down into the pot as if the flowering plant were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

The squeak and groan of rusty hinges echoed throughout the darkness, almost as deafening as the Hound’s howl… but somehow much more terrifying. He remained frozen in place by his own apprehension, glancing up only when the chilled night air was silent once more. Even from his place ten paces away, he could see how her eyes widened in disbelief. He tried for the grin that she normally enjoyed but there was still no change from her for several long moments.

“I… I now realize I didn't think this through, my Lady, but I truly need to hear you speak. Something. Anything. I—”

“You're not a dream wraith…”

“No,” he confirmed with a quick shake of the chin. “I'm not bound to one realm or another.”

“Why can’t I feel you?”

“The garden, you've warded it impressively well. It skews even our bond while within its protection. This is as near as I'm allowed.” To demonstrate, Kennyo slowly pressed his free hand forward into the ward’s coverage. A soft sizzle could be heard from the bared skin of his fingers and tendrils of smoke lifted into the air when he pulled back to safety.

A grimace flashed briefly over her features at the sight. “There are only two beings the garden is warded against… and you're not an angel.”

“Correct.”

She ran a hand through her hair before releasing a puff of air and reached back into the garden. “I guess we don’t need this then...”

Kennyo heard a slight scratching for a moment while she worked at a panel until the invisible barrier preventing his passage faded to nothing. She gasped the same as he once their bond snapped back into place. He paced slowly while her mind worked to right itself. She could still deny him, by all logic she should deny him. Withholding truth was the same as lying, was it not?

“The angel ward is still intact so you-know-who is still barred from entry.”

“I imagine there's a story to that and I imagine it has to do with why you are so impressively gifted in ward casting?”

“Yes, a story for a later time,” she answered with a smile as she stepped away from the entrance. “Please, My Shadow, enter freely of your own conviction and without invitation… and please tell me about what it is you have there. I've never seen flowers like those.”

Kennyo set the plant on the nearby potting table before moving aside for her inspection. “They are an undiscovered family—”

“Yet, you found them,” she grinned up as she gently handled the petals of a center bloom, blushing under the eyebrow he threw her way. “I’m sorry, continue.”

“They are undiscovered and unnamed… but I had a gifted colleague of mine look into their future. In nearly three centuries they will be known as an ‘orchid’ named Telipogon diabolicus for its devilish appearance.” He paused to raise his fingers to the petals just she did, enjoying the radiance of the smile blooming across her features as she tested the new terms on her lips. “If there were ever a bloom worthy of you, I’d like to think this would be the one.”

“How so?” She blinked up at him.

“I was sent on a rather tedious assignment when I first became a demon centuries ago. One of Hell’s pets managed to jump the precipice and entered the mortal plane so I was sent to bring it home. I found these orchids only by chance as I stumbled through a jungle chasing after the beast. Now, I’ve been all over the earth and have never found them elsewhere. As you can see, they are rather striking and one would remember ever laying sights on such rarity.”

“Yes,” a whisper so soft he only heard when he stepped behind her,

as close as he dare without the needed permission of touch.

“The same as you. I was stumbling through a half-thought, useless plan to cause trouble for your Brother Once Was when I found you and made the mistake of trying to use you. That was why I sent the nightmares that you called ‘games’ since they didn't work as intended. You arose smiling every morning after with a giddiness and continued about your day.”

Her teasing grin was back in place as she rested the back of her head on his shoulder, the same as so many times on the Dreamscape. “Was it frustrating?”

“Infuriating!” He chuckled before dropping his voice back down to a whisper. “Everything about you was infuriating for a time and I couldn't figure out ‘why’, only knew that something kept pulling me back… but I don't regret any of it.”

“Well, My Shadow, let me tell you something I regret.” She pivoted to face him but despite the harsh sounding words, only warmth and acceptance radiated from her still grinning eyes as she lifted his knuckles to her lips. “I regret… you not meeting me here sooner.”

“I amend my statement, I do regret that as well,” again he stepped as near as he dared. “My Lady, you are free to touch all you like but, as a demon, I need permission to touch you… and I would really like touch you.”

Her usually warm eyes seemed almost endless in the dark of the greenhouse. Lavender, amethyst, violet... Kennyo couldn't tell where one color ended and another began but his mind was already laying the ways he could find out. All he needed was—

“Yes.”

~*~

 Be sure to check out the Telipogon diabolicus orchid here, if you’re interested. Thank you @naiyabladesinger for reminding me of this perfect addition and for all the love and kindness you’ve shown!

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen kennyo #diabolicus #nephilim angels and demons. oh my! #my writing #dem!kennyo #colonial america au #1700s #orchid #ikesennw #ikesennw reblog #angels #demons #nephilim

[thisislakewood]

→ IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Character Name: Logan Legend

Characters Age: 39

Faceclaim Choice: Chris Evans

Gender and Pronouns: Male, He/him.

Birthplace: Lakewood, Texas.

Birthday: May 20th, 1979.

Occupation: Bar owner of Bullseye.

Family: The Bodyguard for the Reyes Family.

→ BIOGRAPHY

Triggers: spousal death, child death, parental death.

Legends were never created. They were born, bred from fire and metal and raised to be above mere humans. They were destined to a higher power, a greater recognition than what a mere human life. They were gods among men. Legends were meant to be idolized, and if you think back to the ones that had crossed us—it made all the sense. Mythical mentions of Hercules and Achilles were some that would bring brawn over brain. Albert Einstein and Marie Curie, vice versa. They were meant to leave a mark, meant to make you remember them. It was meant to make you think back and go ‘oh. THEM. Let’s talk about them.’ These were the legends that everyone talked about. But no one ever cracked a discussion about Logan Legend, for he was the exact opposite of the definition. Born upon the cusp of a rising power, in the newly dubbed Lakewood, Texas, sat a small family in middle of the boons. Men of soldiers and valiantly, women of honor and pride. This is where the newly dubbed Logan Jordan (something he curses his mother for giving him a ridiculous middle name) Legend was born, on the eve of a crisp summer’s night. The family was ideally set off with their two boys, both proud, popular and confident.. Logan was a good natured child, bit of a trouble maker in school, and an all-around class clown. He thrived off the spotlight, lived for the ideals that everyone’s eyes could—and at some points, in his opinion, should—be on him. His parents fed into the idealism as well, keeping their boy prepped and primed for life, providing the home envied by others, and the all-American dream of a good natured family. Hell, he was sure some kids were jealous of him. And if not—he’d make it so.

Now, while in this state, there wasn’t much in the way of what could and could not be done. He grew into a staggering six-foot-four man, proud and in his prime. Instead of going off to college as his parents may’ve wanted—but at the time of his mother’s illness, could not afford—Logan made the decision of a lifetime. Move to Boston, join the US Army, make a name for yourself, and go home—only home was far too out of reach for a man like himself. This was a game plan he could’ve stuck too, one that would’ve helped him in the long run. The war of worlds wasn’t something he was interested in, but it provided the sustainability to give back when he pleased, and that was ideal to Logan. For that, a man fresh into his twenties, he went off. Initially, it’d been fairly easy. Something that surprised him, how quickly he’d come to learn the ins and outs of it all. It’d taken him three years, but he’d finally found himself in the midst of something greater than himself. With the skills of a sniper, Logan found himself within the Green Berets. Wading and wandering, it created a gentleman out of him, one with respect. He took his earnings and returned them to the man and woman who gave their lives for him. But the money did not last long. Sickness was easy, and unavoidable and after his mother’s swift passing, his father sunk into a depressive state, too weak to fight the flu-like symptoms on a cold night, too small to appreciate the will to live. Logan couldn’t dump the responsibilities of them onto his little brother, who by far, was the opposite of himself. For that, he’d pack. When he’d sold his family’s land, belongings, and any namesakes packed into a small box to bring back to the army base in the Northern end of Texas, he knew—Lakewood would be empty. It was home, but it was a distant memory. It’d become a place to recollect, but never linger.

By the time he’d finally lived out his youth, his carefree nature, Logan knew he would need to settle down. He would need to find a woman who could support, live on the Legend—though the namesake never came with the definition, as he’d been used too, and move on in life. He should’ve had a wife by now, but his focus had been his job, the Army in which he served, and nothing would change that, regardless. For that, he met Jane. Bright eyed, paled woman, blonde hair. The fiercest blue eyes he’d ever seen. She was docile, sweet, timid. He enjoyed that, more so an alpha male than he would’ve liked to admit he was, and somehow, she sunk into a second nature. Perhaps that’s why he settled for her. No questions, no ruffling of feathers. Her parents old and sickly, but she was young, and a nurse to boot, at the base in which he was stationed. In his time, that’s what mattered, to grow a line of family. Given his nature, given his sense of pride, it made sense, regardless of her own emotions that she give into his proposal. It was a forging of lines, and it didn’t seem either were too keen on. Logan wanted excitement in a partner, someone with life. Someone to put him in his place when he’d become nothing more than a jackass at times. Someone vocal. Not someone scared of him, simply for all the work he’d put in as a soldier,. On a sweet summered June day, Logan married Jane, with family and friends all around.

Not that any of it helped. Now, nor then. Logan’s life, while painted well beyond the woes of a man who might’ve been stricken down by his country’s battle—was still reflected within the pools of Lakewood. Charlotte. She was this enigma, this motion of light that seemed to draw him in like a poor man’s moth, circling and entranced. He was envious of her lovers, and enthralled when she looked upon him. This was the image of the woman for he saw within his mind. This was the image of the woman to bear his name, take his hand—the ring he should’ve put on her finger. This was where his woes with Jane stemmed. His nature to recollect in a dream-like state had him calling out for her name, and while he hadn’t seen her since his youth—since he left her to join the army—it was still there. It was there like the drift of a spring’s wind as it tumbled though long grass. It was where his memory settled, and where he found himself drawn to her. Of course, no amount of therapy could console his wife within the first few months of their marriage, forced to sit on a couch and recant the tale of a girl so far gone from his reach, he had been grasping for air. That’s all it was, extending his hand into the dark, and expecting one, but there was another. Had he settled for Jane? Surely. Should he try? Well, that was the conclusion they’d both come too.

Their marriage was lively, for what it was in public. In their home, once Jane moved in with him, was almost dismal. It was tedious. Same routine. Kiss on the cheek when he woke, and the same when he returned from work. Into their marriage, did Logan find it hard to lay with his wife. In a drunken stupor, sure. There was almost never an issue there, should he not have fallen asleep beforehand on her and she left him there in a pile of his own piss. But to consummate—to make the marriage real, in the eyes of religion, constituted a child. After two years of becoming one with another, it happened. Jane was pregnant. Her pregnancy, however celebrated, and brought them closer to create another, came with complications. Having already suffered through her second trimester with painful contractions, bed rest before she was into her third—the pregnancy stopped looking positive. It was not a positive thing, for his wife could barely care for herself, never mind the child. When it came time to give birth, Logan knew—something was wrong. His gut screamed nothing could end well for him, for his child and his wife. This was not meant to happen as it was. If there was fate, this was it extending its power. Logan watched his life desecrated, going from being a solider and husband, to a sympathized widower. Jane did not survive the birth, nor did his son. Burying them was sentimental, and even though they struggled, he chose to put them with his parents, a sign of loyalty, allegiance. He carried Jane’s wedding ring with him on a necklace bound with his own. Never sentimental, never emotional. He’d learned growing that it was best to swallow them—be a man, his father would encourage. Men never showed true emotions in his family, and Logan never revealed his personal life with Jane to anyone. Not even if they saw the rings to this day hanging loosely around his neck. That was his burden, guilt, to bear until the end of his time.

When he returned to base with the woes of the truth shattered inside of his mind, Logan found himself at an odds. As though the world didn’t want to work for him. As though it couldn’t. Almost nineteen years since he joined the forces, rising through the ranks. A celebrated marksman, fifteen years of servitude and he found himself discharged. Off to be replaced by a younger, able-bodied person to perform half as well as he ever would. He’d seen the woes of man on the battlefield. He ranked higher than some would in their dreams for having such sharp aim. He could do it—he did it all. And when he found himself without the one thing he held onto—he was lost. Returning to Lakewood was the only thing Logan had left for him. Abundance of money, of glory from a battlefield now just out of his reach for the rest of his days, the once bright and sprightly man became jaded. Liquor became a good friend, and his mind seemed to only go back to the one thing that worked: aim. Firing the end of a gun off at a target made out of wood calmed the quell in a heart that didn’t have any bounds. The further he sunk into his depressive, maniac state—the more Logan found himself into the troubles of shadows long gone. When he’d been born within the mayhem of Lakewood, his own father a former Bodyguard for the Stone Cartel (another secret that alluded the elder Legend child)—the army was the only thing escaping him from himself, and a life on the edge. But hadn’t that been what he wanted? Service had provided him the thrill, but when it was gone, all he had left was the daring soul of a man confined.

When his father opened Bullseye almost forty-or-so years ago, it was the only thing he knew he might still be good at—something he could possibly succeed if not be it the murder and fatigue that followed him. Attesting it to the only thing he had left that he could call his own, his signature style for weaponry, prestige skill—and love of bikes, caught the eye of the Reyes Cartel. An elite crime family within the walls of his own home, shifting and bending the rules to their own. It was what he enjoyed the most. His bike had become something of a staple, one of the first thing to come back to life in his return. When the months spurn into dedication in years, Logan found himself knee deep within the Cartel business. The way it defined his outlook. He grew from the boy proud to bear arms, to the man, jaded, who knew it all. There was the inkling of a man underneath of what he used to be, subdued with the man he had become in his departure from the front lines. Logan had spent time on the outside once more—before heading right back in. Five years since being discharged, and he earned his moment, his place within the Reyes family. Now, as the Bodyguard within the Reyes Cartel, he uses his tactic of command and skill to keep those beneath him in line, all while upholding the values of a club who had, without ever knowing it, given him purpose once more.

→ PERSONALITY SUMMARY

+ Witty, Sarcastic, Loyal - Flirtatious, Guarded, Impulsive

#chris evans #cartel rpg #murder rpg #town rp #oc rpg #taken #reyes cartel

[anxietywontmakethewordsgo]

Okay Y’all

So at first I considered NOT posting this second part bc y’all seemed to have it covered on my first post in terms of extra insight for this episode. BUT. I am fucking traumatized, and the only way I’m getting SOME closure is if I point out everything on my mind at the moment (just like part one, which backfired horribly).

SO

Obviously, spoilers for 13.18, and trigger warnings (sexual assault, abuse, torture of our favorite archangel). On that note, Let’s jump into this.

Let’s start chronologically, shall we? The first scene of hell we are treated to is Ketch being told by one of Asmodicksucker’s minions that he needs to wait, because he is busy. After pausing and giving the guard a strange look, Ketch relents fairly quickly, asking if they have something to read.

NOW, I may be thinking too hard on this, but we all know that demons are irreparably corrupt; they have no shame in what they do to others, have no reason to hide what they do. So, why does Asmodeus tell the guard to keep ketch out?

Ketch seems to find this strange too, based on the look he gives the guard before asking about reading materials. When he finally walks in, Asmodeus is in the process of extracting some of Gabriel’s grace (our poor archangel whimpering as he does so). Ketch looks curious, sure, maybe even a bit confused initially. But as he watches, he seems…. disturbed? which is obviously unusual for his usual sociopathic behavior. He asks if this is a bad time, which prompts both of them to look up at him, one is disgruntlement, the other is surprise and hope.

Which brings me to my next point; this entire fucking scene. Rewinding a bit, we have Asmodeus being creepy and saying “just a little more” to Gabriel as he extracts the grace. I didn’t put too much thought into it the first (dozen) time(s) I watched it, but….its strange, isn’t it? If he were any other prisoner, Asmodeus wouldn’t show such…attentiveness to Gabriel’s reactions. He would probably insult them, maybe threaten them for the reaction.

But Gabriel isn’t any other prisoner, not to Asmodeus. I’m sure we all saw the preview where he says “I own you.” To someone off-screen. I’m also sure most of us thought he was talking about Gabriel. He wasn’t, not directly, but it may as well have applied anyway.

Near the end of the episode, Ketch describes Gabriel as Asmodeus’s “prize milk cow.”, and he’s not really that far off in his description. The way Asmodeus reassures Gabriel rather than threatening him is akin to somebody talking to their pet, or any animal in general.

You guys. Asmodeus doesn’t see Gabriel as an archangel, or even a human being. He sees him as his pet, his property.

This little convo right here, where he beats ketch down verbally, saying he has no real identity and that he doesn’t know what he is, is almost certainly what he did to Gabriel in order to break him into what he is now, a petrified shell of his former glory. And it isn’t just in Asmodeus’s mind that Gabe is like his property/an animal – it’s also in Gabriel’s. I can’t stop comparing the way Gabriel flinches away and whimpers when Asmodeus moves to a puppy scared of its abusive owner, how he is almost in a completely different mindset the whole episode, as if protecting whatever is left of his old self by reverting to what Asmodeus thinks him to be.

AAAND now I’ve gone off track from my original point; sexual assault. Obviously the show can’t just outright say they are talking about rape (and even if they could, the writers love subtext too damn much to do that.) I say they are using the ‘pet’ arc to explain just how violated and humiliated Gabriel is. Keep in mind, an angels grace is a part of their very BEING, what they are made of. While we have seen other instances of grace stealing in this show, we have only ever seen it one other time for an ARCHANGEL – and that would be with Michael, in the other world. We all saw how insistent Lucifer was about keeping Michael on the other side, and it makes me wonder if he felt just as violated by Michael as Gabriel does by Asmodeus. (who knows, maybe they’ll address the similarities eventually. After all, Gabriel and Lucifer are going to meet sometime, right?)

Chuck himself said that archangels are made of different stuff, the stuff of primordial creation. Could this mean that an archangel’s grace is even more close to their true form than a regular angel’s? if so, it’s just adding to the theory that not only is Asmodeus using Gabriel to power up, he is also KNOWINGLY VIOLATING HIM, and is ENJOYING IT (that bastard.)

Anyway, I think I’ve spent enough time torturing myself with THAT scene. Let’s move on, shall we?

Hearts were breaking across the world as Gabriel continued to show signs of complete psychological and emotional trauma. He cowered away from Ketch, even when he said it was a rescue. He all but screamed when Sam mentioned his grace, leading to a very disturbed and surprised look from both of them. just – hell, the look on the boy’s faces, PERIOD. When they first saw him, the shock and disgust in dean’s voice as he asked what Ketch had done to him. HELL, even Ketch looked shocked and disturbed that dean would even THINK he would go this far, do something so heinous, especially to an ARCHANGEL.It almost makes me wonder if the writers were also alluding to the boys KNOWING just how bad Gabriel’s current mental state is. i’m COMPLETELY shocked that Gabriel would even let Sam come NEAR him, let alone with a sharp object (ahhh my sabriel shipping heart!).

Some other (smaller, perhaps repeated) points that I don’t have the patience or brain cells to articulate;

-       Asmodeus almost sounding like he’s taunting Gabriel when he says “just a little more” rather than threatening him or insulting him. The humiliation must be immense, knowing he is being treated more like an animal than the archangel he once was.

-       Ketch’s reaction to Asmodeus’s little (ahem) session with Gabriel. He looks almost disturbed, which is very unlike his usual sociopathic self. It almost makes me wonder if Asmodeus KNEW ketch might try to free him, which is why he then later starts trying to mentally fuck with Ketch himself. Ketch also asks if it’s a “bad time”, adding to the uncomfortable sexual atmosphere of the scene already.

-       SPEAKING OF WHICH; Asmodeus fucking MOANING as he injects himself, his expression almost one of euphoria (ew.).

-       Notice how the camera cuts to Gabriel in the middle of the injection, showing a look of pure violation and fear. It is almost as if he can FEEL his very essence being absorbed, corrupted by Asmodeus’s demonic being. I’d say it’s almost an act of…domination, perhaps?

-       When ketch first speaks, both look up, Asmodeus with a look of disgruntlement, Gabriel with a look of surprise, and even HOPE. JUST LOOK AT HOW HIS EYES WIDEN, HOW HIS EYEBROWS RAISE. LOOK AT THE HOPE ON HIS FACE, YOU GUYS.

-       ASMODEUS SEWING OUR POOR CHILD’S MOUTH SHUT ASHDGFGS. It not only is a big part of his identity, who he IS, but it is also a big reminder that there is NO CONSENT ON HIS PART WHATSOEVER, leading to the connection of sexual assault.

Sorry for the COMPLETELY MESSY and out of order post, you guys. I just can’t even BEGIN to fully and properly articulate how fucked up the underlying sexual tones of this episode were. Maybe someone who is better at all this complex meta stuff can explain this better?

honestly you guys, i’m not sure what the writers are planning to do, but with how humiliated, how VULNERABLE Gabriel was....well, its gonna be a hell of a time trying to heal him up back to his former self. what he went through...its not something you just get over. despite this, i’m terrified interested to see where the writers take this.

#supernatural #season 13 #theory #gabriel #ketch #asmodeus #sabriel #meta #imgoingtokillmyself #ahh #why writers why #i hate everything #goodbye #ill just #ugh fml

[wisdomrays]

KEY CONCEPTS OF SPIRITUALITY IN ISLAM : Jam' (Absorption)

Jam' (absorption) literally means coming and bringing together. In the language of Sufism, it means fixing all one's feeling, sight and consciousness on the Truth, to the extent that one is absorbed in Him and does not feel the existence of the world with all that is in it. To the degree of one's knowledge of God, one only knows Him, feels Him, sees Him and is saved from preoccupation with anything else. If this meaning is approached from the concept of unity, it is the opposite of multiplicity; but if it is conceived of as one's heart cutting off relations with all else save God, then its opposite is distinguishing (farq), which we, God willing, will deal with as a separate subject.

Absorption is a state or station belonging to those who have reached the final state of the spiritual journey. Travelers to the Truth who are honored with the gift of absorption always feel Him, know Him, and according to the level of the horizon and spiritual pleasures of each, can be aware or not aware of the people around them. But they always feel and are always conscious of the Truth and live as if charmed by observation of the meanings that belong to the Truth and that are reflected in everything. They always see the manifestations of His Names and Attributes in all things and events which they encounter. Thirsty for the Divine Being Himself, they fly around the manifestations of His "Face" like moths flying around a light. In tides of wonder and admiration, they cannot help but utter: Glory be to You, how exalted You are (as the Divine Being)!

Two stages further from this state of pleasure is absorption within absorption, which means a total absence for the travelers to the Truth. Travelers who find themselves in such a whirlpool of feeling are no longer aware of their own selves nor that of others. Totally detached from distinguishing, they are completely forgetful of all else save the Truth-as anybody except He is a shadow of the shadow of the light of His Existence-and turn to Him with all their being.

For initiates who base themselves on God's absolute Oneness in all their views and considerations, everything is a shadow of the light of the Existence of the Truth. For one who is in the state of absorption, it is a shadow of the shadow of His Existence's light, while one who is in the absorption within absorption only sees the rays of the manifestations of His "Face" in the name of the creation. Some scholars mention a further degree of absorption, which they call holy absorption. This is the rank which the verifying scholars of Sufism regard as the of nearness to God, Who is nearer to us than ourselves, by means of supererogatory prayers. The travelers who have attained this level are conscious that it is God Who maintains them, and begin to observe everything more deeply and clearly with their innermost senses, which have become sharper than their external senses. They hear with their spirit, see with their power of insight, review and examine with their conscience, and have the opportunity to see the true faces of theoretical knowledge through the door half-opened by their inner vision and experience. This is the rank where travelers are favored with the full manifestation of the truth contained in He is the First, and the Last, and the Outward, and the Inward (57:3), and where they become polished mirrors that reflect it. The servants of God who have reached this farthest point either "travel in God" and rotate around themselves like the North Star, or are turning around their axis in their hearts while being in their bodies among people.

If they have attained the rank of absorption, it means that they have also been favored with "subsitence with God." Those who hold this rank in the final stage of the journey, and who are abstracted from their own attributes in their absorption in God's Attributes and from their own being in absorption in God's Being, gain a new existence through subsistence with God. They begin to feel the bliss of eternality and breathe "absorption" in the delight of being aware that their acts have become lost in God's acts. A stage further, when they observe that their attributes have been annihilated in the all-comprehensive Attributes of God, they become lost in the delight of experiencing absorption within absorption. Finally, as a result of their own being being obliterated in the face of God's Knowledge and Existence, they leave themselves to the consideration of the holy absorption with inner vision and spiritual pleasures, and are immersed in the feelings of wonder upon wonder.

From another point of view, the act of observing the requirements or responsibilities of servanthood to God with the utmost care, devotion, and consciousness is called "distinguishing," while being favored with a shower of Divine gifts that come unexpectedly as a reward for this "small capital"-small because the greatest capital is one's being favored by God-is absorption. In view of this approach, those who have attained a higher spiritual state have observed that one who does not perceive "distinguishing" is ignorant of servanthood, while one who does not feel absorption is unaware of knowing God.

The Qur'anic statement (1:5), You alone do we worship, which expresses the individual consciousness developing into and translating the public consciousness, is a voice of distinguishing and servanthood, while You alone do we ask for help (1:5) is an expression of absorption and a declaration of human poverty and helplessness before God. Every initiate hears the voice of distinguishing at the beginning of the spiritual journey, and feels the pleasure of absorption at the end of it. The ultimate point, which only those endowed with a particular capacity can reach, is "absorption within absorption" and the "holy absorption." While the former signifies God's concentration of the manifestations of His Names on a certain object, the latter is a sign of the manifestation of His Names throughout the universe.

According to Kashani, distinguishing is the knowledge of God the Almighty and spiritual pleasures of those who have not yet been able to develop their theoretical considerations about God (I personally find this view unacceptable), while absorption is immersion caused by a concentration on the Creator without ever thinking of the creation, and absorption within absorption is the peak of seeing the creation as subsisting by the Creator. This final rank is also the rank of distinguishing above absorption. Since in this rank only God's acts, Attributes and Essential Qualities are observed, the Absolutely True One, for those who have attained this rank, becomes the eyes with which they see, the ears with which they hear, and the hands with which they hold. For this reason, He attributes to Himself what they do by His will and leave and ignore the apparent causes. The Sufi scholars are of the opinion that the verse, (8:17), You did not kill them but God killed them, and when you threw, it was not you who threw, but God who threw, besides clearly mentioning a miracle of God's Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, alludes to this rank.

Absorption can never mean the unity of being-the unity (union) of God and the universe or God's being identical with the universe-as pantheists claim, nor is distinguishing totally the opposite. The One Who is the Eternal is eternal, and the beings who are contained in time and come into existence within time are mortal and different from the Eternal One. The Creator cannot be and is not the same as the created. The relation between them is not that which comes from appearance; that is, the universe is not an apparent form of God. Rather, this relation is that between the Creator and the created. We can also see the creation as the totality of the manifestations of God's Names. These manifestations are completely pure and transparent, while that which issues from the created is usually tangible. Human beings have both a pure, transparent aspect or dimension, and a dense/tangible one. This is why, as declared in the verse (17:84),  Each being acts according to his own standard of measure, they can display behavior either according to their bodily dimension or according to their spirit. As they are composed of a body, a carnal self, and a spirit, they fix their eyes on nature and corporeality, while they carry inclinations toward spiritual, exalted worlds as well. By means of the ways of rising which the Shari'a has appointed and guaranteed, travelers on the way to God cut their relations with fleeting and decaying things and turn to eternity. Whosever's breast God expands and opens to Islam follows a light from his Lord (39:22). So, when travelers to God turn to Him in submission, they travel in the exhilarating horizons with utmost self-possession and awareness under the guidance of the light of their Lord. Even though they may sometimes encounter confusion or bewilderment, they easily overcome these with the assistance of the never-deceiving leadership of the master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings. They always head for the sources of knowledge that God has determined and secured through Prophethood, and never fall into the errors committed by pantheists.

From another perspective, absorption has been dealt with under the rubrics of "absorption with respect to knowledge", "absorption with respect to existence", and "absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself."

Absorption in knowledge means that at the beginning of their journey, travelers to God base themselves on the knowledge that comes from, or that is obtained through, the proofs and indications of God. Then this knowledge develops from the certainty based on knowing into a certainty based on observation and finally into a certainty based on experience. However, only a shadowy degree of certainty based on experience can be reached in the world. Ultimately, this knowledge becomes pure knowledge from His Presence. Although it is the result of following the way of inference, it is not the same as the knowledge acquired through a proof originated in the outer world or in the human inner world. Not is it totally different either. It is a special gift of the Almighty to the free will with which God has endowed human beings, and which is in fact a simple means given to them for the execution of the Divine commandments. However, like all other Divine gifts, this gift is never proportionate to our free will. Like it, all other gifts of God Almighty are many times greater than what we actually deserve.

Absorption with respect to existence is when the travelers to God are perfectly aware in their consciousness of how things and events occur and how they are maintained. All of existence disappears from their vision to the extent that they are no longer aware of which direction is right and which is left. The conquerors of the heart, who walk in this station, feel only the rays of the Eternal Holy Existence and Knowledge and see all else as the motions of these rays. Provided manifestation is not confused with appearance, and shadow with the original, those who have attained this horizon feel or hear innumerable things and/or beings in every part of the universe invoking His Name, saying, He is the All-Living, the Self-Subsisting (by Whom all subsist)(2:255).

Absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself means that all the indications and proofs of God that originate in the outer and inner human world are no longer visible in the face of the light of knowledge of God and the spiritual pleasure that the Almighty lets flow into the hearts of travelers to Him. Some have regarded this rank as the final station of the spiritual journey. If they base this consideration on their constant turning to God during traveling from wakefulness to self-possession and thence to repentance, penitence and contrition one after the other, and on the relation between God and humankind as being the relation between the Creator and the created, and the Sole Object of Worship and the worshipper, and the Lord and the servant, there can be no objection. But, if they imply by absorption that things have no reality at all, and it is of no use or significance to use one's mental faculties to infer from things and events the existence of God and therefore to acquire certain knowledge about Him, and that people are no longer responsible for the fulfillment of religious obligations after reaching some point in the spiritual journey, and that there is essentially no difference between I and you and He, then this is most definitely a total deviation in conception and creed. This can be either a fantasy of those who are pursuing "originality" for the sake of fame or a view held by some self-conceited pantheists and monists.

As for the Prophets and the pure, saintly scholars, they have regarded the way leading to the Infinite One as endless, and have experienced the final station one can reach in the journey along this way according to their capacity with the same solemnity, wakefulness, and consciousness as they experienced the beginning. They have always accepted that serving the Truth with the utmost humility is the goal of their lives. The Almighty ordered the master of creation, the most perfect in servanthood to Him, Worship your Lord until what is certain (to come, i.e. death) comes to you (15:99). By this, He both emphasizes that death marks the end of this responsibility and consoles the Messenger for the afflictions and tortures he was subjected to by reminding him of his meeting with God. Because meeting with God meant for him reaching certainty based on experience in his own, unique level.

O God! Make us among those of Your servants who pursue sincerity, whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, who have achieved piety and abstinence from all forbidden things big or small, and whom You have made near to You, and who are pleased with You and whom you are pleased with. And let God's blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the head of those whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, and on his family and Companions, who were austere, near to God, and were pleased with Him and whom God was pleased with. Amen!

#allah #god #islam #quran #muslim #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp team #reverthelp #help #islam help #convert help #prayer #salah #muslimah #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new convert #new revert #how to ocnvert islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[tawakkull]

Spirituality in islam: Jam’ (Absorption)

Jam’ (absorption) literally means coming and bringing together. In the language of Sufism, it means fixing all one’s feeling, sight and consciousness on the Truth, to the extent that one is absorbed in Him and does not feel the existence of the world with all that is in it. To the degree of one’s knowledge of God, one only knows Him, feels Him, sees Him and is saved from preoccupation with anything else. If this meaning is approached from the concept of unity, it is the opposite of multiplicity; but if it is conceived of as one’s heart cutting off relations with all else save God, then its opposite is distinguishing (farq), which we, God willing, will deal with as a separate subject.

Absorption is a state or station belonging to those who have reached the final state of the spiritual journey. Travelers to the Truth who are honored with the gift of absorption always feel Him, know Him, and according to the level of the horizon and spiritual pleasures of each, can be aware or not aware of the people around them. But they always feel and are always conscious of the Truth and live as if charmed by observation of the meanings that belong to the Truth and that are reflected in everything. They always see the manifestations of His Names and Attributes in all things and events which they encounter. Thirsty for the Divine Being Himself, they fly around the manifestations of His “Face” like moths flying around a light. In tides of wonder and admiration, they cannot help but utter: Glory be to You, how exalted You are (as the Divine Being)!

Two stages further from this state of pleasure is absorption within absorption, which means a total absence for the travelers to the Truth. Travelers who find themselves in such a whirlpool of feeling are no longer aware of their own selves nor that of others. Totally detached from distinguishing, they are completely forgetful of all else save the Truth-as anybody except He is a shadow of the shadow of the light of His Existence-and turn to Him with all their being.

For initiates who base themselves on God’s absolute Oneness in all their views and considerations, everything is a shadow of the light of the Existence of the Truth. For one who is in the state of absorption, it is a shadow of the shadow of His Existence’s light, while one who is in the absorption within absorption only sees the rays of the manifestations of His “Face” in the name of the creation. Some scholars mention a further degree of absorption, which they call holy absorption. This is the rank which the verifying scholars of Sufism regard as the of nearness to God, Who is nearer to us than ourselves, by means of supererogatory prayers. The travelers who have attained this level are conscious that it is God Who maintains them, and begin to observe everything more deeply and clearly with their innermost senses, which have become sharper than their external senses. They hear with their spirit, see with their power of insight, review and examine with their conscience, and have the opportunity to see the true faces of theoretical knowledge through the door half-opened by their inner vision and experience. This is the rank where travelers are favored with the full manifestation of the truth contained in He is the First, and the Last, and the Outward, and the Inward (57:3), and where they become polished mirrors that reflect it. The servants of God who have reached this farthest point either “travel in God” and rotate around themselves like the North Star, or are turning around their axis in their hearts while being in their bodies among people.

If they have attained the rank of absorption, it means that they have also been favored with “subsitence with God.” Those who hold this rank in the final stage of the journey, and who are abstracted from their own attributes in their absorption in God’s Attributes and from their own being in absorption in God’s Being, gain a new existence through subsistence with God. They begin to feel the bliss of eternality and breathe “absorption” in the delight of being aware that their acts have become lost in God’s acts. A stage further, when they observe that their attributes have been annihilated in the all-comprehensive Attributes of God, they become lost in the delight of experiencing absorption within absorption. Finally, as a result of their own being being obliterated in the face of God’s Knowledge and Existence, they leave themselves to the consideration of the holy absorption with inner vision and spiritual pleasures, and are immersed in the feelings of wonder upon wonder.

From another point of view, the act of observing the requirements or responsibilities of servanthood to God with the utmost care, devotion, and consciousness is called “distinguishing,” while being favored with a shower of Divine gifts that come unexpectedly as a reward for this “small capital”-small because the greatest capital is one’s being favored by God-is absorption. In view of this approach, those who have attained a higher spiritual state have observed that one who does not perceive “distinguishing” is ignorant of servanthood, while one who does not feel absorption is unaware of knowing God.

The Qur'anic statement (1:5), You alone do we worship, which expresses the individual consciousness developing into and translating the public consciousness, is a voice of distinguishing and servanthood, while You alone do we ask for help (1:5) is an expression of absorption and a declaration of human poverty and helplessness before God. Every initiate hears the voice of distinguishing at the beginning of the spiritual journey, and feels the pleasure of absorption at the end of it. The ultimate point, which only those endowed with a particular capacity can reach, is “absorption within absorption” and the “holy absorption.” While the former signifies God’s concentration of the manifestations of His Names on a certain object, the latter is a sign of the manifestation of His Names throughout the universe.

According to Kashani, distinguishing is the knowledge of God the Almighty and spiritual pleasures of those who have not yet been able to develop their theoretical considerations about God (I personally find this view unacceptable), while absorption is immersion caused by a concentration on the Creator without ever thinking of the creation, and absorption within absorption is the peak of seeing the creation as subsisting by the Creator. This final rank is also the rank of distinguishing above absorption. Since in this rank only God’s acts, Attributes and Essential Qualities are observed, the Absolutely True One, for those who have attained this rank, becomes the eyes with which they see, the ears with which they hear, and the hands with which they hold. For this reason, He attributes to Himself what they do by His will and leave and ignore the apparent causes. The Sufi scholars are of the opinion that the verse, (8:17), You did not kill them but God killed them, and when you threw, it was not you who threw, but God who threw, besides clearly mentioning a miracle of God’s Messenger, upon him be peace and blessings, alludes to this rank.

Absorption can never mean the unity of being-the unity (union) of God and the universe or God’s being identical with the universe-as pantheists claim, nor is distinguishing totally the opposite. The One Who is the Eternal is eternal, and the beings who are contained in time and come into existence within time are mortal and different from the Eternal One. The Creator cannot be and is not the same as the created. The relation between them is not that which comes from appearance; that is, the universe is not an apparent form of God. Rather, this relation is that between the Creator and the created. We can also see the creation as the totality of the manifestations of God’s Names. These manifestations are completely pure and transparent, while that which issues from the created is usually tangible. Human beings have both a pure, transparent aspect or dimension, and a dense/tangible one. This is why, as declared in the verse (17:84), Each being acts according to his own standard of measure, they can display behavior either according to their bodily dimension or according to their spirit. As they are composed of a body, a carnal self, and a spirit, they fix their eyes on nature and corporeality, while they carry inclinations toward spiritual, exalted worlds as well. By means of the ways of rising which the Shari'a has appointed and guaranteed, travelers on the way to God cut their relations with fleeting and decaying things and turn to eternity. Whosever’s breast God expands and opens to Islam follows a light from his Lord (39:22). So, when travelers to God turn to Him in submission, they travel in the exhilarating horizons with utmost self-possession and awareness under the guidance of the light of their Lord. Even though they may sometimes encounter confusion or bewilderment, they easily overcome these with the assistance of the never-deceiving leadership of the master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings. They always head for the sources of knowledge that God has determined and secured through Prophethood, and never fall into the errors committed by pantheists.

From another perspective, absorption has been dealt with under the rubrics of “absorption with respect to knowledge”, “absorption with respect to existence”, and “absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself.”

Absorption in knowledge means that at the beginning of their journey, travelers to God base themselves on the knowledge that comes from, or that is obtained through, the proofs and indications of God. Then this knowledge develops from the certainty based on knowing into a certainty based on observation and finally into a certainty based on experience. However, only a shadowy degree of certainty based on experience can be reached in the world. Ultimately, this knowledge becomes pure knowledge from His Presence. Although it is the result of following the way of inference, it is not the same as the knowledge acquired through a proof originated in the outer world or in the human inner world. Not is it totally different either. It is a special gift of the Almighty to the free will with which God has endowed human beings, and which is in fact a simple means given to them for the execution of the Divine commandments. However, like all other Divine gifts, this gift is never proportionate to our free will. Like it, all other gifts of God Almighty are many times greater than what we actually deserve.

Absorption with respect to existence is when the travelers to God are perfectly aware in their consciousness of how things and events occur and how they are maintained. All of existence disappears from their vision to the extent that they are no longer aware of which direction is right and which is left. The conquerors of the heart, who walk in this station, feel only the rays of the Eternal Holy Existence and Knowledge and see all else as the motions of these rays. Provided manifestation is not confused with appearance, and shadow with the original, those who have attained this horizon feel or hear innumerable things and/or beings in every part of the universe invoking His Name, saying, He is the All-Living, the Self-Subsisting (by Whom all subsist)(2:255).

Absorption with respect to the (Divine) Being Himself means that all the indications and proofs of God that originate in the outer and inner human world are no longer visible in the face of the light of knowledge of God and the spiritual pleasure that the Almighty lets flow into the hearts of travelers to Him. Some have regarded this rank as the final station of the spiritual journey. If they base this consideration on their constant turning to God during traveling from wakefulness to self-possession and thence to repentance, penitence and contrition one after the other, and on the relation between God and humankind as being the relation between the Creator and the created, and the Sole Object of Worship and the worshipper, and the Lord and the servant, there can be no objection. But, if they imply by absorption that things have no reality at all, and it is of no use or significance to use one’s mental faculties to infer from things and events the existence of God and therefore to acquire certain knowledge about Him, and that people are no longer responsible for the fulfillment of religious obligations after reaching some point in the spiritual journey, and that there is essentially no difference between I and you and He, then this is most definitely a total deviation in conception and creed. This can be either a fantasy of those who are pursuing “originality” for the sake of fame or a view held by some self-conceited pantheists and monists.

As for the Prophets and the pure, saintly scholars, they have regarded the way leading to the Infinite One as endless, and have experienced the final station one can reach in the journey along this way according to their capacity with the same solemnity, wakefulness, and consciousness as they experienced the beginning. They have always accepted that serving the Truth with the utmost humility is the goal of their lives. The Almighty ordered the master of creation, the most perfect in servanthood to Him, Worship your Lord until what is certain (to come, i.e. death) comes to you (15:99). By this, He both emphasizes that death marks the end of this responsibility and consoles the Messenger for the afflictions and tortures he was subjected to by reminding him of his meeting with God. Because meeting with God meant for him reaching certainty based on experience in his own, unique level.

O God! Make us among those of Your servants who pursue sincerity, whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, who have achieved piety and abstinence from all forbidden things big or small, and whom You have made near to You, and who are pleased with You and whom you are pleased with. And let God’s blessings and peace be on our master Muhammad, the head of those whom You have favored with sincerity and purity of intention, and on his family and Companions, who were austere, near to God, and were pleased with Him and whom God was pleased with. Amen!

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #reverthelp #revert help #revert help team #help #islamhelp #converthelp #prayer #salah #muslimah #reminder #pray #dua #hijab #religion #mohammad #new muslim #new revert #new convert #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam