zukaang | rajamandala | राजमण्डल | 羅闍曼荼羅
devdas, chigo, lengger lanang and layla-majnun inspired tale
the day zukō was born, agni bestowed him with a single eternal flame, everlastingly alight inside the gentur lamp which he would carry along with him everywhere he went. no one could extinguish and light it back at will except the one who’s destined to guide his fate, as prophesied at naloni mitoni.
after his genpuku as the successor of ōzai tennō, zukō accompanied azhura in attending durga puja and seren taun, hosted by baginda bhumi at the central port of canggu. the siblings then reunited with maiko and tài linh, who became patrons of entertainment in northern manjung.
their seventh generation of tawaifs featured the esteemed amrapali, whose swara and abhinaya effortlessly enamored kaldera royals. as she danced, not only did she take everyone's breath away, but also the life of every kindled flame in the room. then, when she lit them back with gentle sway of her hands, zukō knew that she's the one.
realizing that his son had set his eyes on a mere yìjì, ōzai warned the prince that he might be deceived by outlanders witchery, but zukō insisted that he trusted agni's sacred will. he continued to chase the tawaif in unquenchable desire to know about her more, unaware that the fate he would thread on was to become a madman, lost in utterly blind love which turned into the purest form of devotion.
because amrapali was, in fact, not merely a dancer and disciple of buddha. she was bodhisattva kannon in her avatar form-a man named āng, awakened in rana pota lake as the only living sky dweller. his kin were mercilessly wiped from existence milennium ago by zukō's ancestor, souzan tenshi, who begun the conquest of rajamandala.
āng's crimson henna, drawn by performers of tide drifters; adinda katara and kakanda saka, covered his distinguished irezumi, while his voice was trained to move even the most hardened heart by paduka běifāng and a hia haru, the stone wielders. together with his beloved shrivijayans, the avatar would liberate the victims of war under ōzai's tyrant rule.
however, it was out of āng's prior knowledge that he would possess karmic ties with the very son of his own enemy through vortex of conflicted, mortal feelings. willingly bestow thousands of blessings to zukō's thousands of prayers, he would, but even as the emanation of god, āng still could not simply pull the strings of fate as he selfishly pleased.
by the will of sang hyang widhi, āng was destined to succeed in ending the misdeeds of fire breather’s forefathers, but at the cost of his heart falling forever in unfulfilled love. for he knew, that even though zuko took the role of mirabai to krishna, their wish to be united would be granted only in death like that of layla and majnun.
for @zukaangweek third day prompt: sacred/possesive
703 notes
·
View notes
Fall Unto Me (part two)
Got too silly. Have some more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren cause the bot came back and wormed into my brain to post it. Part one here if you haven't read it yet hehe.
cw// religious themes
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
The quiet cabin where Ren lived was a stone’s throw from the flowering field you found them in. The devil graciously opened his home, even guiding you around the town you now knew was called Corland Bay. Each morning when you wondered about leaving, he brought something new to pique your interest and put off your departure. The time seemed to fly by and soon you hardly spared a thought to leave.
You'd quickly grown accustomed to his constant presence over the past month. He was never far from your shoulder at any waking moment. The uneasy feeling from when you met was completely gone, replaced with a strange sense of comfort. He had only shown kindness to you, after all. To call a devil your friend was laughable, you knew. But no other word quite fit.
Still, you wondered how he had come to live outside their realm. Every time you questioned him the conversation slipped away to another topic. It must've been odd to discuss with an angel, you naturally assumed.
So you stopped bringing it up after a few days, instead choosing to inquire about the changes in the plants you so often admired. Some had begun to wither, and new buds sprouted up seemingly overnight in their place. A strange new array of flowers that Ren promised would tower over your head and his in due time.
“I think I'll like these flowers more than the others,” you told him one late afternoon.
You were lying on the porch, your head resting against his thigh as you watched the endless rows of flora sway in the breeze. Their focus was on you, though you didn’t notice. You could feel the faint trace of constellations drawn along the bare skin of your legs. The human clothes he’d gotten for you were a little different from the robes and tunics donned by servants of heaven, but they were just as comfortable despite the lacking fabric.
“I couldn't begin to imagine why,” he mused, his tone teasing as if he already knew your answer.
You explained regardless. “You told me some will grow as tall as they can, even following the sun’s light. It’s rather interesting.”
“I’m already as tall as they'll be.” His tail flicked into your field of view, casting only a slight shadow until his face obscured your vision further. "Is a devil not as interesting as a flower to you?"
The rapidly changing sky above caught your attention before you could respond in kind. Clouds blotted out the sun, tinting the world below in a murky gray. All the signs were there. Heavy clouds, a drop in temperature, and a strange smell in the air—petrichor, it was called in the books Ren had read with you by candle light on quiet evenings. It was a change you'd been waiting for ever since learning about it.
Bursting with excitement, you rolled from their lap and darted from the safety of the covered porch, the answer you meant to give them already long forgotten. Ren followed on your heels in the dirt until you stopped.
“It's rain, isn't it?” you wondered aloud and turned back to them for confirmation.
“Humans normally stay inside when it happens, my angel. But yes. Rain.” He nodded with a smile, enamored by the way your eyes curiously sparkled before you looked away. His pale hands came up to shield your face when the first drops began to fall.
Tiny thumps of something suddenly bounced off your hair and shoulders, seeping into your clothes. His makeshift shield seemed to be doing its job as you looked all around with wide eyes. Minuscule puddles of water and earth formed around your feet. The sea of flowers still swayed before you, though a few weaker ones fell out of sync as the rain pushed them to and fro as it pleased. You could even hear something akin to chimes when drops pattered over the roof of their home.
You spared a glance up towards the sky, quickly changing your mind with an unwelcome gasp at the spray that tickled your face. Quiet laughter came from behind and you turned to look at your companion once more, shaking off their hands.
Ren appeared unbothered by the dozens of small droplets beading down his forehead to his chin, until you reached forward to wipe them from his face. The heat of his skin stood out to you, and you let your hand linger, rubbing your thumb back and forth over the drops that kept landing on his cheek.
A dull ache began in your back.
You took an innocent step towards him. The light shower of rain was slowly chilling you to the bone, so it only made sense that you sought out their warmth. A warmth that felt as familiar and welcoming as your heaven. Gentle hands wound their way around your waist, guiding you back to the shelter of the porch only a few feet away. With the curtain of his fingers gone you expected another torrent to stream down your face for a brief moment. Instead, all you felt were stray drops falling from his hair.
Relief washed over you almost immediately in their embrace. Every so often you’d feel homesick like this. That sharp, almost stinging lance of pain where your wings were hidden away—yet it always faded as soon as he comforted you. You couldn’t understand why their presence brought such solace to you.
“I’m ready to go inside,” you suddenly said.
Your gaze wandered up to Ren's unreadable blue eyes as he answered, “Are you?”
“Yes… I think so.” But you made no move to leave, instead letting your eyes follow the slow crawl of a droplet down from his cheek to the corner of his lips. Their pale pink color reminded you of the sunset that left you empty only days ago.
It was a dreaded feeling you couldn't bear to feel again.
Without even thinking about it you leaned up to kiss them for the very first time. A faint stutter of surprise to his breath, and then he kissed you back. Part of you expected it to burn, to sting, do something when you mistakenly sought out affections you knew were meant only for a bonded pair—especially from a devil of all creations. Yet there was nothing to punish you for now.
The fluttery haze to your body didn’t wane at all, only blossoming at their touch. Until a gentle nip of fangs at your bottom lip had an entirely new feeling thrumming to life in your heart. You pulled back just to breathe for a minute, running your tongue over the spot that stung in a way you belatedly realized you liked for some reason.
Guilt and confusion battled in your heart at the thought. “Heaven will need me home soon,” you whispered, avoiding their watchful gaze for a long while as you toyed with the still damp strands of his hair.
The devil waited in silence, running one hand in an unknown pattern on your back until you managed to look upwards. “...Do you truly wish to return, my love? Won't you at least stay until the flowers bloom?” The words were desperate, but his voice resigned. As if your answer was already set in stone.
You carefully nodded at his words. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you were even capable of leaving. It scared you more than your god's surefire chastising about the sin you'd just committed. But it has to be then, you wanted to convince yourself. Or you feared you’d break your vows and never leave him.
He accepted with a heart wrenching smile, took your hand and led you up the few steps that were slick with rain. Your fingers tightened achingly around theirs as he opened the cabin’s door.
Beneath the steady drumming of rain, you didn’t notice a bell had been faintly tolling from somewhere far above you.
110 notes
·
View notes
On Religious Trauma
I grew up in a high control religion, and on a fundamental level, I can see myself in both Crowley and Aziraphale, ESPECIALLY at the end of season two. Let me explain. (TW for religious abuse)
Within the church I grew up in, there was a very strong expectation that you build your identity exclusively within your religion; that you see Christ as the only source of good in yourself. It's one of the things that made coming to terms with my queerness and transness so intensely complicated. I had built my entire self image on being a good perfect Christian. Even after being forced from the closet at 16, I clung desperately to that identity because it was all I'd had my entire childhood. Even in the face of direct abuse pulled straight from that belief, I still couldn't let go of the only 'good' I'd ever seen in myself. I thought I could change my dad's mind if I could just prove that I was a good Christian and prove that the Bible didn't justify his hate. He didn't listen.
It took another year and a half for me to separate myself completely from Christianity. I'd been questioning my faith since 14 and it was an enormous source of guilt and shame, so letting go of that was a long healing process. The people I grew up with now go to religious unis and volunteer at the summer camps we went to as kids. It's surreal every time it comes up on my insta, and I feel like I'm the one who escaped, who saw through the sham to what was really going on. More than that, I know in my heart that my family (father aside) are also victims in their own right. I grew up watching my mother struggle, and I watch my younger sisters grow up wrestling with these same ideas. Perhaps even more strongly, having watched my fall from grace. But I can't DO anything, because I can see the fear in my mom's eyes when I reminder her why I'm not comfortable going to church with her; she was raised, just as I was, in desperate fear of seeing the damnation of those you love. She's terrified of being responsible for my eternal torture in hell. So we don't talk about it at all, because it hurts both of us.
I remember the overwhelming pressure to evangelize and convert, even as a literal child, because it was our responsibility to save them from hell. Aziraphale isn't CHOOSING angel Crowley over the one in front of him. He still hopes he can save the one person he loves more than anything in the universe. I've been there. It fucking hurts. But now I'm here, and that hurts too. Because I can see the people I love looking at me the same way and I have to say no.
Aziraphale never had a choice. Even in the face of cruelty, he sees heaven as the good in himself. It's the only identity he has. And he's scared out of his mind.
96 notes
·
View notes