#always wonder what became of the woman they freed

[emeraldmew]

I think this was the first book I ever read in my life where the heroes ended the book with the best thing going for them being that they managed to live.

They were super under-prepared for the fight and they didn't manage to pull off a surprise victory or anything. One human freed. Tom still a Controller. Tobias stuck in hawk form. Who knows how many humans and hork-bajir burned up by Visser 3 rather than recaptured alive. Everyone exhausted and traumatized with the only the fact that they're not dead to keep them going.

It startled me as a kid. It made me want to read more, because how could it be over yet if the heroes lost? It was something I'd never experienced in a story before when I was young and, like the end of the final book, that difference stuck with me:

The battle might be lost but a sort of dark optimism remains. It's not over yet. Even when things go wrong, it's not over yet.

[jenniferpendragon]

Listening to "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again?" and I wondered why on earth I connected so deeply with Odysseus here when I've been connecting with Penelope so much, and then it clicked.

Massive spoilers below the cut, and also mentions of sexual assault and image issues.

Odysseus has become the monster, that's what "Odysseus" is about, his final culmination. He is everything he's fought and hated and killed. He has murdered a *baby* at the command of a god who told him if he didn't, the gods would have the child destroy his family. His best friend died because Odysseus, out of extreme guilt, indulged his ways too much. His own desire for a better world and to give mercy, fueled by guilt, caused his mentor to leave him and left an opening for future pain. His pride turned his cunning into dust. He watched men he had fought for ten years to save from dying in war be drowned in a storm because of his damn pride (and his brother-in-law and second-in-command's greed and mistrust). He then nearly lost all of his remaining men at the hands of an enchantress. He is forced to hear the screams of his dead comrades and come face to face with his dead mother in the Underworld who died waiting for him.

Odysseus then murders gods know how many sirens (rightfully so, but still), and then sacrifices six men to a sea monster for safe passage. His remaining men mutiny against him (understandably on the crew's side, not so much for Eurylochus) and then decide to eat the sacred cattle of Apollo, which gets the wrath of Zeus down upon them.

Odysseus then decides that his wife and son are more important than his remaining men and lets them be killed for their misdeeds. He is then trapped for years (and possibly sexually assaulted, reading between the lines) by a woman who wants to replace his wife while the demons of his past and his guilt and trauma cause him to nearly commit suicide. Once freed from the island and Calypso, he fights another sea monster with just his wits and then nearly dies by a god before torturing Poseidon until he gives Odysseus the safe passage he wants. After all that, he (rightfully) slays the suitors who were planning to rape his wife and attempting to kill his son. They beg for mercy, but the Odysseus that gave mercy to the cyclops that murdered his best friend is dead. Only a monster remains. A man who tortured gods stands before them and judges them for their crimes.

And his son is ecstatic to have him home, is wondering if Odysseus would accept him as "weak" as he is, as if Telemachus isn't the perfect "warrior of the mind" Odysseus always wanted to be, a combination of Athena and his younger self's viewpoints. Odysseus, the monster, sees one of the two things he still loves in the world and exercises those open arms because this is his son. His love for him is unconditional and unchanging.

Athena, beaten and recovering and full of empathy for the first time in the ten years since she left him, sees the Odysseus before her, the monster and cunning warrior she was attempting to turn him into, and accepts what he is, what he's become because of her. And while she loves him, she doesn't show him love. Just acceptance and quiet friendship (which is more than fine, but it does nothing to his heart about his monstrosity).

And then he comes to Penelope. The woman he has turned into someone unrecognizable for. Someone even the goddess of wisdom regrets. His son loves him, but it's because of the monster he has become. His son never knew him, never knew who Odysseus was at his core. Athena did, and she regrets what happened to him, what he became. But Athena wasn't who he was fighting for. He wasn't the one thing that kept Odysseus alive for twenty years of hell.

And he comes to Penelope, heart on his sleeve and says "I'm not the man you knew. I have done terrible things. I have become a monster inside and out. Would you fall in love with me again?"

He doesn't ask "do you still love me?". He doesn't think it's possible. He is a monster. He not only signed the death warrant of his sister's husband but threw a child, a baby, off of the walls of Troy. Odysseus doesn't believe himself worthy of the love he is asking for. He needs it with every fiber of his being because that is what he has craved for two decades, but he is a monster. He is not the kind and gentle husband who carved a wedding bed into an olive tree so it would be a living reminder of their everlasting love. He is a man who sold the souls of his men to a monster to get home.

Odysseus is amazingly, beautifully human, but by many metrics, he is a bad man. His actions can be justified and rationalized, but he has committed atrocities or allowed them to be committed (Achilles' desecration of Hector's corpse, opening the gates of Troy for the people to be slaughtered in their sleep, sentenced men to death so he could go home, throwing a baby off the walls of Troy) and he can't be called a good man (his actions in "Odysseus" aren't monstrous but they reveal his mindset) in a measurable way.

I wouldn't go so far as to call him evil like I would Antinuous, but would Odysseus? Yes. He believes he is a monster. Monsters are something to kill, not worthy of love.

But he asks. He asks Penelope if she would fall in love with him again. Not if she still does, he doesn't ask for that. He has loved no one else in these last twenty years, but he doesn't ask for that from Penelope. He's asking for a chance. Would she be willing to love the monster that has come home in her husband's place? Would she be willing to look upon him, with the blood of an infant on his hands, with the blood of an entire people on his hands (they would never have sacked Troy and committed genocide without him), and choose to fall in love with him anyways? That is what he is asking. Could you love me, as evil and monstrous as I am?

And what does Penelope do? She asks him to move their marriage bed. He's not her husband? He's a monster? Fine, a monster wouldn't care about destroying their wedding bed, the symbol of their marriage, to get what he wants, a new start from her. A monster wouldn't care that he would have to tear out the roots of their eternal love to have her now. A monster wouldn't have second thoughts.

But Odysseus is hurt and angry at her essentially asking for a divorce from the man she married, revealing the secret of their marriage bed in his shock and rage. A monster wouldn't give it a second thought, but the man she married could never move that bed for anything.

And she tells him that only her HUSBAND knew that, so that makes this monster he claims to be her husband. Penelope doesn't just agree to fall in love again, but that she doesn't care how, where, or when, because he is HERS. He isn't a monster that has replaced her husband, he IS her husband.

She does not look at him and see his sins. She looks at him and sees someone she has loved and waited for for twenty years. Someone she was ready to die a violent death rather than live without.

Odysseus believes himself to be a monster, to be evil. And Penelope says he is her husband. He is hers. He is not some evil monster, he is her husband who would never even think about moving their marriage bed. He thinks he is evil, too much, too monstrous, and she says no, you are MINE.

I've always felt like I'm a horrible person and worthy of the pain and punishment I get. But hearing someone love someone else unconditionally, looking upon them and saying "I don't see your sins; I only see you" is incredibly healing to me. Penelope hears his list of his sins and straight up IGNORES them. It's almost as if she has forgotten them. She loves Odysseus, period. She does not see the vile monster that Athena sees and accepts and regrets. She sees her husband.

Love is the greatest power in the world.

[burningcheese-merchant]

May.. may we get more yandere cheese? Maybe of her starting to write her own just as deranged letters to Burning Spice, but she refuses to send them. She can't. He doesn't need to find out that she'd let him do what he wants after all. But he does. He finds out anyway. Because he's Burning Spice. He's smart.

I already did something like that haha. She hasn't fully succumbed to her vices yet, but this is a start. The first step on the long, winding staircase spiralling down into Hell.

You're right, though... Burning Spice does find out eventually. Of course he does. He's far smarter than anyone gives him credit for; even his comrades often forget that the man's wit is as sharp as the blade of his axe, if not more so. But it's fine. Better than fine, it's wonderful. Perfect, if he's bold enough to declare it (and he is). Let the world brand him a fool. It makes carrying out his sinister plans that much easier.

And now, his number one priority is breaking into her house.

Very... simple way of putting it, yeah. Plain. Boring. But the less time Burning Spice spends on molding his words into something prim and proper - what, does he look like that annoying know-it-all jester to you? - the more he can spend on turning this dream into reality. The plan doesn't need to be articulate. It only needs to be done.

Six months now. It has been six months, on the dot. Half a year since that fateful day, and she still has yet to notice...

One would think that, no matter how proudly and desperately Golden Cheese strove to be crowned the greediest woman on earth, she would still have the good sense to rein it in when absolutely necessary. But apparently not. Truly, her greed had no equal, no hope of being humbled or vanquished. She simply had to have everything, regardless of who, what or where it came from. Even if it came from him.

The moment he first laid eyes upon the painting, Burning Spice knew she would be drawn to it. A lone tree, humble in its size yet proud in its stance, mercifully draping a blanket of shade over the teal and jade shrubs huddled around its base. Before them sat a pool of water, shallow but pristine, glittering in the light of the afternoon sun. A lovely desert oasis.

She would appreciate the symbolism, he thought. And it would seem that he'd thought correctly, for despite her usual huffing and puffing about their fights and the other gifts he always intended for her, she nevertheless abandoned him to their makeshift arena with the painting in tow, tucked under her arm.

Pretty little bird, and her love for pretty trinkets... if only she knew. If only she'd thought twice when she looked more closely at the painting, and took proper heed of the little snake coiled around a tree branch, a single beady eye visible to the viewer. If only she was paranoid enough to have the painting be looked over by someone besides herself - someone well-versed in magic, preferably, as they're more likely to realize that a spell had been cast on the painting. If only she knew that the poor man (or what was left of him, anyway) he presented her to was the one he'd stolen the painting from, and strong-armed into bewitching (and, for his trouble, Burning Spice gladly freed his burdensome head from his weak, trembling shoulders).

If only she knew that, whenever she loomed closer and stared curiously at that snake, it wasn't the snake that was staring back.

And how curious it was, when Burning Spice caught her sitting at her desk one evening. Her pen gliding over paper with increasing speed and fury, the weight of whatever devilry had possessed her bearing down on her in such a way that her hunch grew more pronounced with each passing moment. One paper, soon crumpled with a shake of her head and a breath of frustration, became two. Became three. Four. Five. Six.

Alas, the painting hung a little too far above Golden Cheese's head for Burning Spice to see her work clearly. He'd been born with outstanding eyesight, as all apex predators ought to be, but there were times where even it failed him. The angle just wasn't quite right, and her handwriting was simply too small. The muscles in his face began to ache from how deeply he was scowling, such was his righteous indignation.

But far be it from him to shrug his shoulders and live without his questions being answered. He has only given up on something once in his life, and it wasn't this. He would never give up on anything related to his beautiful bird. Perish such a blasphemous thought!

Enough straining, enough squinting, enough parsing of the words and letters, and he saw it. Two words. One name.

"Burning Spice."

It was him. She was writing something about him. For him. TO him.

His heart thundered in his chest so loudly, so painfully, so beautifully at this divine revelation - but not as beautiful as her, no. Nothing could ever hope to be. Golden Cheese, HIS Golden Cheese, so stunning and delectable, so unbearably gorgeous in every way imaginable. So hypnotic in her movements - in the balled fists that battered the poor desk in a fit of rage, deep cracks springing forth and marring the otherwise flawless, polished surface. In the way her wings fanned out to their fullest size as she rose to her feet, shoving her chair away as though it was cursed. In that lightning fast heel-turn and leap across the room, that twist of the door handle so strong and erratic it nearly came off, the feather or two left in the dust as she vanished from the room and Burning Spice's sight entirely. Gods, he could watch her do anything. He could watch her forever.

He wants to know exactly what it is that she wrote. He must know. He will.

In his excitement - and it hasn't waned in the days since, not even the slightest bit - he had hunted down a piece of blank parchment and jotted down his own letter in immediate response to hers. It sat comfortably tucked away in his dhoti, near his hip; keeping it on his person at all times gave him strength, hope, a reminder of the holy mission he was destined to fulfill (although he probably didn't need it).

He can still feel his fingers itching as he lays in his bed, still wide awake well into the wee hours of the morning. He obliges them as he always does, and carefully plucks out the letter, a monstrous grin unfolding on his face as the letter unfolded before it:

"Golden Cheese, my little thief, my pretty bird, my delicious prey... I see you. I see you in your little nest, in that precious kingdom of yours, fluttering about to and fro. You dance and tiptoe so elegantly upon the winds that I curse myself every time I'm forced to blink, and be robbed of a single glance of you and your beauty.

"Little bird... I know what you've done. What you've written. I have witnessed it with my own eyes. And I love it. I love it as much as I love you. I waited so long for this day, for the day you truly acknowledged me. My heart mimics the beat of a war drum every time the thought dares to cross my mind... But it isn't just a thought anymore, is it? It's as real as you and I. As real as our bond. Once a dream, now a prophecy. One I intend to fulfill.

"You don't need to worry. Don't lift a single finger or feather. I will come to you, as I always do, and then I'll steal your letters away. They fill you with the same excitement as me, don't they? I still remember the look you wore on your pretty face while you wrote them all down. The fire that crackled and burned in your eyes. I can't wait to see for myself the way you carved into those pages, and drained your pen of its blood. Gods, you drive me insane... We truly are meant for each other, aren't we?"

Perhaps, in the future, he can tell her the fun little story behind this particular letter, if she's curious. If she asks. If she remembers to do so, if she remembers it exists, if she even remembers her own name after her brain has already been completely fucked out. Yes, he wouldn't mind doing that. He loved doting on his little bird and feeding that insatiable appetite of hers.

He tucks the letter away again, and casts his eyes to the ceiling. Tempted as he was to reactivate the spell and gaze upon his beloved... No, not tonight. In brutal honesty, watching her from afar was beginning to cause him genuine pain. It wasn't enough; he wanted to see her face-to-face. More than that, he wanted to touch her. Trap her in a tight embrace and smother her lips with his own. Never let her go again, no matter what. And he would slaughter the whole world to have her, as he hoped she understood by now.

Sneaking into the kingdom would be no easy task, never mind her bedroom. But what were life and love without risk?

Who knows, maybe she'll defy his meticulous planning and be there when he arrives, instead of anywhere else so his entry and exit could go quick and smooth. Maybe she can hand him the letters herself. Maybe she'll grow bold and read them aloud. Maybe she'll become enraged and beat him to within an inch of his life for daring to set foot within her little sanctum (not that he wouldn't put up a fight; that was half of the appeal of their duels); maybe she'll weep with joy at finally being able to express herself, and pour out all the contents of her aching heart, begging him to take them all for himself. To take her. (Which he most certainly will, without a moment's hesitation.)

Some unholy mixture of all of the above would be quite nice, honestly. Such was his own insatiable greed.

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

I know the previous entry says "marble statue", but I'm changing it to a painting instead. You're less likely to think a painting is watching you than a statue. Statues are creepy. Paintings are a lot less assuming, I think. He's watching her through the little snake's eyes in the painting, the end

[keruimi]

Hello there! If you accept requests I was wondering if maybe you could write some headcanons of the hashiras seeing reader (Who's older and also a hashira) as an older sibling figure? Only if you want to ofc and if it's possible all of them, if not that's alright! Have a nice day / night! ^^

My Saving Grace

Author's Note: I finally have the will to post this. I tried, I really tried because I'm not sure how to write this since I prefer oneshots. I don't see the characters as a sibling figure too so it was really difficult to grant this. But since it was the first request I received, I tried to write this. I love scenarios and this made me really know how to write one. Sorry for taking too long and sorry for not managing to get every hashira included but I hope I did it correctly. Hope you enjoy it!!

Mentions of death, abuse, and trauma.

Characters: Sanemi, Obanai, Giyu

_____________________________

On the torture room, the smell of blood is staining the nose of the Young Master of the Ubuyashiki Family the moment he enter the room.

Within the four walls of the room, his eyes laid on the table that was placed in the middle of the room as a figure of a woman soaking from her own blood was the one thing that greeted him.

He felt his wife let go of his hand as he slowly walked inside the room. The people inside left to give them the private time he requested for.

The moment the door closed, he started to walk closer to the woman he got to learn about.

"Fuyutsiki Y/n, can you hear me?" His gentle voice rang across the room yet silence was the only thing that responded to him.

He sat on the stool that was close to her as he held his focus on the eyes of the woman who was just staring at the ceiling above them.

"Do you still have the heart to listen for what I'm about to request you with?" He continued noticing she won't bother responding with the torture still felt by her body.

"Do you want to take your life back?" That question finally manages to get a slight movement from the woman as she blinks her eyes from what she heard.

"Even if I did..." It was barely heard with how she tried to let those words out.

It was still painful

"What can I possibly do?" It ends up as a whisper that made Kagaya put his hand above hers to offer his sincere comfort to the woman.

"You can protect the people who suffer the same way you did. Under my wing, killing wouldn't be a sin"

A tear fell from the woman's eyes when those words were stated. Somehow, the slight heavy feeling on her chest lightened even just a little bit.

It became more bearable with the guilt she is now experiencing.

"I just want to be free. But no one wants to save me" she stuttered out as more tears followed that mix with the blood trailing down from her head.

"Now that I freed myself from that man, why do they need to punish me for it?", She started to question her fate as the young man silently listened to her pain.

"I became a sinner because I want to be happy"

Kagaya slightly grip her hand to remind her he is still here with her. Sharing the pain she is going through.

"Another chance. There is a path you can take without going against your morals but at the same time where you can heal" he exclaimed that made the woman glance at him.

"I can give you that"

That was the time Y/n chose the path Kagaya offered her.

And that is to become a Demon Slayer...

Known as the Winter Hashira, in three years, she managed to climb the ranks of the corps without any sight of injury ever being seen on her.

If anyone were able to describe her, a woman who moves with elegance and gentleness that became her advantage on the battlefield.

She kills her target without blood even staining her body.

A woman who finished her job beautifully.

Those were the words of the staff that can usually be hear when someone ask about the quiet woman who always spend her time in a garden.

She looks untouchable like a noble lady. So the others never bother getting along with her.

Yet without a doubt, she maintained her Hashira position compared to the Hashiras where the kids (Future Hashiras) were training under.

It made them doubt her abilities. A woman who seems to have no care about the world.

Until...

In the middle of daylight, after a Hashira meeting. A woman's hand is seen gripping her fellow Hashira's neck.

"Y/n-san! Please calm down" Kanae's voice can be heard on the Estate as the kids (Some Future Hashiras), were silently watching from the window of the Butterfly Mansion.

The man let out a gasp when the hands of the Winter Hashira tighten, blocking his airway.

"Let me make it clear to you about your role. You were chosen to become an example, not a corrupt person" the voice of a woman that is laced with undeniable hatred can be heard as Kanae can't help but close her mouth.

"You have no rights to hurt the kids as if they were your stress reliever. Especially if no mistake was made" the woman let go of the man as they fell on the floor, gasping.

"If you can't control yourself, then you shouldn't be a Hashira" the anger of the woman was clearly seen from how her eyes seem to lighten up like she can kill the person in front of her in a second.

"Y/n-san, you're breaking a rule-"

"The rules don't dictate me. It's my job to correct mistakes, especially entitled people like you." She calmly stated as she wiped her hands with her handkerchief, acting like her blood was not boiling from anger a while ago.

"Don't test me"

That moment changed the perspective of the kids who she defended.

____________________________

Sanemi:

He was fifteen when it all started

Anger...

That was all I felt as I held my friend's deceased body. While the demon's body slowly withered from my vision.

I failed to protect the person who gave a chance on the friendship I never thought would bloom.

I lost another person against the demons.

The stinging pain in my chest was ignored as my vision turn red that i ddin't notice I started to have a rampage and killed every demon I encountered without any mercy.

That when I encountered another lower moon, I finally lost the strength to keep going on as I fell to the ground along with Masachika's body.

I'm Tired...

Tired of being the defender, tired of forcing myself to keep going for the people I failed to save.

Tired of holding on to the hatred I held for the demons.

Where is the peace I first wanted. Will all of that be unreachable to reach?

I didn't have the time to see the head of the lower rank demon decapitate before the silhoutte of the well-known hashira stood in front of me.

"What are you doing?" I utter as her blank gaze look down on me.

Somehow in that little time, I wish to just die.

But someone like her prevents that wish of mine from being granted.

"I'm doing what I promised to the world" she answered my question where the answer was already serve.

I felt myself getting pulled up from the ground that made me tiredly sat up as she crouch in front of me.

"This is one of the challenges you need to get passed through" her presence made me almost didn't realize the help that finally arrive as my friend's body was taken away from me.

I felt the anger that made me numb, set free again as it surround the heart that almost stop beating.

"It's not the end of the world, Sanemi. You can't give up yet"

Her words made me scoff as I finally had the courage to gaze on her own orbs.

"What am I even fighting for?"

It was a question that I should have the answer. But now the grief made my mind a mess that is starting to make me confused.

But one thing I'm sure of was I'm really tired.

"What would I benefit from here?"

I sacrifice so many things yet I don't know what I would receive in the end.

"Is fighting really worth it?"

"Yes" she didn't hesitate, not even a bit from her answer as her firm gaze never left mine.

"Make that anger, that pain your weapon. So you would achieve the very first reason why you decided to put your life in line to protect the others." Her grip on my arm started to loosen as she completely kneel to be on the same level as me.

"You want peace. Not only for yourself but also for the world we live in. You want justice, for yourself and for the people who lost their life on these battle." Her words started to enter my mind as my stiff body softened a little and the burning anger, started to slowly rest in my chest.

"Sanemi, there's a lot of reasons to keep fighting. And one of those is being the savior of many" her gaze slowly turned less icy as she put her words in my head.

Dictated every word, and engrave it to my mind. So the confusion that the pain gave me, can be cleared and answered like I needed.

"The world is not forcing you to keep going. But you can rest so you can continue fighting. Let me be your aid in this time you need someone" she put her hand on her chest as a declaration.

"Then after this, you can grant the dream you wanted for the old you and for the people who you lost along the way"

"As someone who keeps going on this path, let me look after you. Let me stay beside you. As your guide, and as your teacher"

I felt my chest slightly warm up when her words made me feel that I was finally being protected instead of always being the protector.

Someone is finally looking after me like how it was supposed to be.

I finally found someone I thought I didn't need.

Obanai:

He was thirteen

"Little one, come over here" I heard her gentle voice towards my direction as I didn't raise my head to look at her. I tightly grip on the clothes I was holding as Rengoku-san gave me a slight push like it was my cue to go near her as she asked.

With trembling hands, I approached the woman and became wary of the moment I saw how she treated her fellow hashira.

But I unknowingly admire her for standing up for me. Due to the trauma I felt, I still can't help my body to stop trembling when a person gets angry at me.

Only her, who stood up for me.

I slightly flinch when I feel her cold hand touch my warm ones before she gently pulls me closer to her.

She raised the sleeves that were hiding my arms and saw some slight bruises that formed from being beaten by a stick.

"Does it hurt?" Her gentle voice manages to calm my nerves as she rubbed circles on it that gave me the strength to look at her and saw her eyes already staring at my own.

"From now on, you would be under my care so don't worry" she lifted a small smile before caressing my cheeks as I nod, trying to stop myself from crying.

"There, there" she soothes me down when she senses I'm near on breaking down as she sat me on the bed before taking the bottle of cream from the side table.

"We both know you can do it for your dreams, alright?" She exclaimed before she applied the cream on my bruises.

"Y/n-san" I called for her in a shaky voice as she hum and raised her head to look at me.

"Can I cover the lower part of my face?" I asked in almost a hush tone and I saw how her eyes sadly gaze on the scar that was clearly seen on my face.

Sensing her attention was on it, a tear fell on my eyes because of fear and shame.

I heard her close the bottle before I felt her hand behind my head as she brought my head to her chest so I could free my tears that I badly wanted to hide from the world.

"If hiding your insecurities can make you stronger. We can hide those" I heard her as I can't help but seek for her warm more.

After being alone on the cold dungeon on my own family's home. I finally heard the encouragement and felt the warmth I was seeking for.

Giyu:

He was fifteen

Within in the shadows of the corporation, only her who look for my figure. Someone who never wanted to be left alone.

The quiet woman who I always spend my time with when I have no one beside me.

I thought we were only acquainted until she started to remind me of my deceased sister.

Until her actions slowly started to comfort me.

I felt someone hold the wooden sword that I keep swinging towards the trunk of the tree as I forcefully let out my breath while trying to stop my trembling hand.

Another nightmare.

The same nightmare that prevent me from moving forward without any guilt or negative outlook in life that those important people in my life want me to think about.

It never fail to remind me how useless I was in that moment. And right now, I felt like I'm still chained to that trauma.

"Giyu" I heard her call for my name first that I snap from my thoughts but my grip on the wooden handle didn't falter.

"Go easy on yourself. Don't degrade the strength you have within"

Her monotone voice didn't help me that I almost want to leave until her next words made me want to stay.

"Because you're just a kid" I lifted my head in a speed of light and my teary eyes met her warm ones.

"As someone who watch you from the sidelines, you're better than what you always thought of" her tone started to soften as she immediately took the sword the moment I began to let go.

"So take a rest"

I finally heard the assurance I always tell myself. The words I want to use as a barrier to my own nightmare.

I was better than I know.

And hearing that from her became my comfort in those silent fights on my own mind.

I finally have someone who would be my light on this dark night

[holylulusworld]

The story

Summary: She's not going to let him down.

Pairing: TFATW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, Bucky feels not worth being loved, written in Bucky’s PoV, fluff

A/N: Inspired by the song “The Story” by Brandi Carlile. Lyrics are taken from the song.

Sequel to: Ruined

No one wants to hear my story. I get it. I’m a relic from the past most people want to forget about.

Why think about dark times and the monsters I worked for? Or what I had to endure.

Even my best friend, the man I considered my brother, left me to go back to better times.

Steve wanted to live the dream he believed he wanted. He didn’t care that I had to hold his hand when he died. 

I’m stuck in this world, with my past hanging over me like a dark cloud. There is nothing I can do about it. 

The only light in my life is her. She makes the world brighter, and my life bearable.

Sometimes I believe I’m not attractive enough for her. I have lines across my face, and scars litter my body and mind. 

She’s perfect, looking like an angel. Every man turns their head when she enters a room. I always wonder why she chose me.

My girl left this perfect guy. He had it all. The looks, a shit-ton of money, and a good reputation. I can’t even hate him. It’s not his fault that my life got fucked up so bad that I can’t even sleep.

No wonder he fought tooth and nail and even played dirty to get her back. He spread rumors and lies about me, and Sam. Telling everyone we turned dark and tried to extort him. 

Y/N refused to go back to him. She even sent the huge diamond ring I’ll never be able to afford back to him. My girl told him to fuck off and grow up.

Still, I hate the man I see in the mirror. He’s not the cocky man going to war, or dancing with the ladies.

I feel like my body and soul are scared so badly that I’m not going to heal. And I don’t mean my missing arm, and the pain I feel most days.

“Baby,” her soft voice brings me out of my thoughts. She breaks the endless circle of self-loathing once again. “Stop it right now.”

Y/N wraps her arms around my waistline from behind. She dips her head to look at me in the mirror. “I love you the way you are,” Y/N says and kisses the scar tissue around my metal arm. “There is not a single thing I’d change about you, baby.”

“Y/N,” I stare at the man in the mirror as she steps next to me to take my hand. “I—”

“Look again, B,“ she says. “For me. I want you to see the man I see.”

I exhale sharply and drop my gaze. It’s so hard to look at myself and like what I see. 

“What do you see in me? I’m…no good.”

“Bucky, look again,” she squeezes my hand, holding it tightly. “Please…”

I lift my gaze, and oddly I see a different man. 

All of these lines across my face Tell you the story of who I am So many stories of where I've been And how I got to where I am

The longer I stare at myself, the more I see.

I see the young man, full of dreams, who tries to lift his small and weak friend up. 

I see the soldier, becoming a man during endless nights spent in fear of getting killed.

I see the prisoner, praying that the monsters capturing him end his life.

I see the man, freed of his shackles as his best friend became a hero.

I see the man fighting alongside Captain America. Brave and fierce.

I see the wounded man, torn apart and put back together by the enemy.

I see the Winter Soldier.

I see the man buying plums first thing after he escaped his handlers.

I see the man fighting alongside his best friend.

I see the man losing it all again.

I see the man finding love when he is about to give up.

“I’m nothing without you, doll. You helped me become this man too,” I dip my head to glance at my girl. “I want you to look at yourself too and see the woman I see.”

She smiles, and we look at the mirror again. Together.

But these stories don't mean anything When you've got no one to tell them to It's true, I was made for you

“You came a long way, Bucky,” she says. “I know that there are still things you don’t want to talk about. But if you are ready, I’ll be here to hold your hand. Always.”

“Always.”

Tags in reblog.

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Disturbed Rest

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

Something sinister had happened within the island.

You have known John as deeply as you know yourself, and he knows you as deeply as he knows himself. Memories mixed together, his memories became yours and yours became his. Some bits are missing, either because you both can't remember yourself or because of some divine intervention.

You see John in the faces of nearly every kind, older men you see; be it strangers, professors, or even cleaning services back at your college, and John sees you in the faces of every innocent girl he had ever seen in his life, and often in the face of his right-hand woman, Kore. He feared one day he will forget Kore's face with how often yours were replacing hers. 

You don't know how long you and John had been stuck in this loop of memories. Has it been days, months, or years? You wondered what happened to your body with John's after the ship had sunken. You can't remember past anything the moment your body had hit the water. Are you declared dead or missing? If dead, did they enact a search for you and the others? Did they manage to bring you home and give you a place to rest?

"What kind of graves do you think we would have?"

John seemed a bit surprised at the question. He glanced at you for a moment, knowing full well that there were no graves for the two of you, and yet he spoke his answer casually, "Considering you're the Duke's proxy, you'd get those fancy granite slab headstones."

You scrunched your nose as you think about it and John gave you a thin smile, "What? Not fancy enough for you?"

"Try too fancy," you muttered, pulling your knees to your chest as you gaze out to the sight of you and the rest of the people you have called your own family the moment you got transported there.

You were walking beside who you knew as Cale. You could recognize him so easily despite how his face was horrifically switching to the faces of your old male friends. The way he carried himself, how he dressed. Your brain reminds you frequently of him and it made you realize you have accepted the fictional character to be another human being too many months ago. It is an odd moment for such an epiphany.

"I've been feeling weird these days," John suddenly says. You turn to the man, a teasing remark about to fall from your lips to question him how he could feel if he's dead when you noticed something.

John stood beside you, appearing like he was some sort of ghost. He was nearly transparent.

"John?"

Cale sat on a meadow of dianthus flowers, the purple flowers with white tips blowing on the wind and spreading across the field like someone had dumped a basket full of flowers there. He sees the sky, red and orange-like flames as the sun began to set. He sees you in the distance, wearing your modest sundress and walking along the meadow, stomping on the flowers without a care in the world. You don't seem to notice him, picking up your sundress a bit like a noblewoman so you wouldn't step on the lovely dress.

Your hair moves with the wind and with every step you take. Under the shine of the setting sun, your skin seemed to glow warmly. This is how he remembers you and it will always be like this forever. He has no memory of pale skin and bloated skin on you. He had never seen your breathing stop, and for once, Cale was glad he never could have found you. He was not sure he could stomach another death. 

Cale calls out for your name, his voice quiet. He began to stand up and watch your figure as it began to get smaller in his line of vision, watching you walk away from him and towards the sunset. Cale calls for your name again, louder this time as he began to follow you, his long legs slowly moving faster as his heart began to drum in his ribcage, begging to be freed from its confines to pursue it's object of affection itself. 

You're too slow, his heart seemed to plead. Please, I need her.

Cale calls out your name again, beginning to run despite how he knew he wasn't the best at sports in this body. But in this dream, his body is light and yet heavy at the same time. He desperately reached for you, arm extends and he almost jolted at the feeling of your blowing sundress brushing against the tips of his fingers.

His heart soared. More, it begs him.

You turn around and before Cale could see your face, the meadow seemed to grow larger. The flowers and tall grass seemed to move together, elongating and swirling in odd ways before they encased you as if you were a pupa. The last thing he could see was how your [e/c] eyes seemed to stare at him before a branch covered that small opening as well.

Cale woke up with a start, his face feeling wet and breathing slightly labored. He lets go of Raon who he had tucked close to his side as he slept, hand coming up to clutch at his chest as he tried to slow down his heartbeat. He feels the scar there and tries to remind himself that it was just a bad dream. It was an odd, bad dream. Cale turns to the window, seeing that the sun was shining bright, meaning he had overslept again.

'Huh,'  he thought, rubbing his face. 'Damn.'

He was supposed to be up earlier to look around the library for anything that could be of use regarding foreign primordial gods. 

He slowly got up from the bed, making sure to not wake the kids as he began to freshen up a bit before having Ron help him. He doesn't want the butler to know he had a bad dream, because Ron had been looking at Cale with a certain gaze lately ever since they had begun looking for any primordial foreign gods that could have been the ones to persuade you to leave them all. 

You are desperate, the older man's gaze seems to say. Cale doesn't feel like confirming or denying that assumption, so he never probed further.

"Young Master-nim," Ron began slowly as Cale and the kids were enjoying their dessert. 

Cale looks up at Ron, swallowing a bite of his blueberry cupcake. "What is it?"

The three kids peered at Ron curiously. They were curious about what Ron wanted to say and that he needed to speak of it during their lunch.

"I think it's about time this humble servant of yours handle the arrangement for Miss [Name]'s room and her remaining belongings," Ron proposed, his words uttered in a soft way that sounded unfamiliar to him. 

The keys to her room, his words implied. Give them to me.

Ron had observed the way Cale grieves. He sees what Cale does to cope with this loss, and he decides it's enough. It's time he locks your door and manages the room whenever it needs any cleaning or refurbishing if any of the furniture were to start falling apart. You already have an empty grave at the memorial. There was no need for another one here. 

Cale stared at the blueberry cupcake as if it were the most interesting thing in his life as he listened to Ron's words, immediately catching on to the implications. He acknowledge the odd way he was attached to your room and belongings were unhealthy, and he has no room to argue with Ron. "Okay."

Ron nodded, bowing his head a bit. "Thank you, Young Master-nim."

Cale leans back to the couch he was sitting on, finally looking up at Ron. "Any news from the others?"

"None so far, I'm afraid," Ron says as he began cleaning up the table, picking up the dirty dishes to the stainless steel food cart. 

"Oh, Human, Human!" Raon began to say, taking out the magic communication device from his spatial inventory. The device glowed and showed Withira's anxious face as Raon placed it on the table.

"Cale-nim," Withira greeted, her expression mixed with something like anxiety and hope. "I have news regarding Miss [Name]."

Cale's eyes widened for a moment before he frowned. Withira wasn't informed of your letter and how a foreign god seemed to be the trigger for you to leave them all. Cale concluded grimly that the reason why Withira could be calling for him now about you is possibly because she finally came across your corpse. "Did you find her... her body?"

Withira shakes her head and she leaned forward to her screen, causing her to appear bigger in Cale's. "Even better. I found her alive and breathing."

Cale's eyes widened and he stared at Withira. The future royal leader of the Whales has no reason to lie to him, and she would be foolish to use you to even make a joke like this. Cale knew Withira well, and she was no fool and loyal to a tee. "What do you mean?"

"She's alive?" Ohn asked while looking up at Withira with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Cale realized had been gone ever since you were officially declared dead.

"Are you sure?" Asked Cale with a frown, his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage like it had when he had woken up earlier.

"I held her," Withira says as calmly as she could. "She was warm and breathing. I checked her pulse and even pressed my ear to her chest to make sure, and her heart was beating. It was slow, but it was there."

Cale's brain was a mess, trying to grasp reality. He searched for every hypothesis his brain could come up with on how you could still be alive. The ship had sunk far from land and it was close to dangerous waters. You're human, so devastatingly human. You wouldn't be able to survive. You should have died from drowning, from dehydration, and perhaps you should have died from being feasted on by the predators of the sea.

You shouldn't be alive.

"Show me," Cale says, a tinge of hope beginning to be shown in his voice.

Withira pursed her lips. "I... I cannot."

Cale frowned and so did everyone in the room. Hong looked at Withira's image on Cale's screen and asked, "Why not?"

"She was on an island," Withira says. "There is a floating island that had been going in and out of our territory for hundreds of years, perhaps even thousands. I, along with Paseton and Archie, stumbled upon it during our swim. We inspected the island and found proof of an ancient civilization and no animals living there. When we ventured deeper, we found Miss [Name]. She was in a ruin, on top of a stone altar, and she wasn't conscious."

"Did you manage to get her out of there?" asked Cale, his suspicions and interest piqued at the situation Withira had faced. It was weird and unsettling how you were alive all this time, laying in a ruin within a floating island that he had never heard of.

"We were attacked before we could," Withira says. 

"Attacked?" Cale repeated. The gears in his brain worked. Who could attack them? A floating island in the middle of the ocean. Could you have been saved? Or stranded on that island? Perhaps this was the place that foreign god promised you, as you've mentioned in your letter. Perhaps this was proof that your so-called death was perhaps just a tiny scheme within a great one if you needed to be on that island to the point your "rescuers" would be attacked the moment they touched you.

"Cale-nim," Withira says grimly. "The island... could possibly be alive. Sentient."

Cale rubbed his face a bit as he let the information sink in. He's racking his brain, trying to connect your letter and the information Withira had given him. An island that was sentient, but your letter claimed to hear voices. Even if an island was alive and sentient, whatever that meant, it couldn't possibly use telepathic communication with a clear target of who would be the receiver.

"The island floats, you say?" Cale asked. 

Withira nodded. "Yes. Some of our whales are tailing the island as we speak. The island is able to grow long barks that attack, even underwater, so we must keep a safe distance away."

Cale looks at Withira's image on his screen, his hand covering his mouth as he thinks. His mind is jumbled and he's trying his best to think logically. Cage, Jack, and Hannah had been sure that whoever it is that had been communicating with you is a God. "Are there any signs of religion or worship that happened on that island before the civilization died out?"

Withira's eyes widened and by the looks of her expression, Cale only needed her to voice out the answer. Withira slowly nodded, "Y-yes... There were many sculptures of flowers propped on a pedestal all around the island. The ruin we have found Miss [Name] in resembled a great hall or even a place of worship."

"Flowers," Cale repeated, interested.

Withira nodded once more. "Yes, flowers. The barks around the island move like your power, Cale-nim. They are able to elongate and grew and shrink in size, and they have flowers all over the island that has the same shape as the flowers that were sculpted to represent their deity."

A deity within a floating island that controls trees and is represented by a flower, Cale made this mental note. "And the flowers. What do they look like?"

"They were..." Withira closed her eyes, recalling the flowers that grew in the island. It was a unique flower that she had never seen before. "They were purple, perhaps even a deep red, with white tips."

Withira's description made Cale straighten his posture. He recognized this flower. That was the flowers he dreamt of earlier when he woke up. Was this some kind of sign? A sign from you? Perhaps, even the world? Or was this to taunt him?

"Thank you, Miss Withira," Cale says, beginning to stand up. "We will come to your location within a few days time and request that your company lead us to this island."

Withira nodded, bowing her head slightly in respect. "We will be waiting for you."

The next few days were a frenzy for everyone.

Cale and his company were intensely researching a foreign god that was represented by a flower and associated with nature. There were plenty of minor gods that were associated with nature, so it was a large margin to work with. Cale had requested Alver to aid in their research as well, ordering a few scholars to work within the Duchy and the Palace library to find answers. They had enlisted several people in the neighboring Kingdoms and Eastern Continent as well to research, hoping for any sliver of solution.

When they eventually stumble upon a list of few possibilities, Cale and his company eventually went to one of the islands within the Whales' territory, seeing Withira already waiting for them along with Archie.

"You're here," Withira breathed out, the weight of anxiety on her shoulder lifting a bit upon seeing Cale and his company, their faces slightly anxious and hopeful. 

"Have you gotten back to the island? How is [Name]?" Rosalyn asked almost immediately, anxiety laced within her voice. Withira gave the red-haired mage a solemn shake of her head, blue hair that resembled clear ocean waters swaying lightly. "Our men haven't been able to go near the island within a few meters. I've instructed them to safely tail the floating island from a safe distance."

Cale took note of Withira's words, recalling the information Withira had given them regarding the floating island's capabilities to ward off intruders by growing barks from below the floating sediment that it seemed to grow on. It caused any large underwater creatures unable to go near the island, protecting the soft base of the island to not break apart. He could assume you weren't regarded as a danger according to the island's "instincts" as you were able to enter and stay within the island. Or maybe you were brought by something or someone.

"So we wouldn't be able to reach the island safely," Cale says to Withira, who nodded as she jumped back to the waters and transformed to be her whale form.

"Please be on your guard the whole time we approach the island," Withira says as Cale and the others began to get on top of a ship tied to Archie's whale form. "The island is able to attack within a distance so this boat will most likely be destroyed while out in the middle of the ocean. You will have to fight your way into the island."

"And the island is sentient," Ron seems to remind Cale. "It seems even if we did get onto the island, we wouldn't be safe within it."

"That's right," Withira confirmed. "The island flourished in its flora, which could move and change shapes and sizes to attack and defend. Thankfully, the island lacked any fauna. Not even birds, so we can be sure it doesn't have control over mammals and such. That could be why there were no animals. Too hard to control."

Cale caressed the kittens' fur. "That's a good thing to know."

"I've never heard of a floating sentient island before," Rosalyn chimed in with a thoughtful look. "We've conducted a heavy research for a few days with some of the royal scholars and several from other countries, but found nothing."

"It is a popular folklore within our kingdom," Withira informed. "We all have heard of the stories of a floating island ever since we were mere calves. We've always been told to avoid it if we ever see it, though this is the first time I have seen it in my two hundred years of life."

"What does the folklore entail?" asked Choi Han with interest. Folklore of certain communities has always been an interesting thing to learn about and some always seemed to be mystical and unsettling.

Withira seemed to think for a moment, perhaps thinking back to her childhood. "That within the floating island lived a very sad man. He could not leave the island and had no friends. To avoid the feeling, he decided to sleep. Every time he woke up, he is devastated to know he still felt sad, so he would always go back to sleep every time he woke up. He slept, slept, and slept until he eventually falls into a deep slumber where no one could wake him up."

"It has been a story to scare young calves for sleeping too much and not training themselves," says Paseton. "We've only been told to stay away from the island to not rouse the man from sleeping and also because even our previous kings had been adamant on not approaching the island if not needed."

'Quite the lazy story,' Cale thought to himself, but he did have to admit the story was quite realistic. Sleeping and depression go hand-in-hand. 

"Well, did you find a man there?" Cale asked. He wants to know whether or not the folklore had some truth in it.

"We found a corpse of one," Withira answered. "And we also found [Name], alive but not conscious."

"How long do you estimate the man has been dead?" asked Cale, a theory brewing in his mind.

"Long enough," Withira answered. "Maybe around two-three months."

The gears in Cale's brain seemed to click and agree upon a theory. That was around the time the ship you boarded sunk. 

'Could it be...?'

Following a floating island meant following an object that's constantly moving. Withira suspects that it was capable to avoid being so close to any shores was due to the bark that was capable of growing on the base of the island, navigating it to tour the ocean non-stop. 

It took them nearly five hours when they managed to get a glimpse of the island. A glimpse. The blue morning sky had turned into an orange canvas with splashes of red and purple when Cale and his companions saw the floating island. It was followed by a couple of Whales, the water splitting and rippling from the swish of their tails as they followed the island from a safe distance.

"How magnificent," Rosalyn breathed out in wonder as she lays her eyes upon the island. 

The island was quite small, floating quietly on the deep ocean waters. The edges of the island were stones and large boulders, curling up inwards and resembling a roughly made stone bowl. It was green and flourishing, tall trees and long, multiple branches with many leaves. But the one thing that was eye-catching about the island was the tall tree in the middle of the island, looming the other trees so magnificently, to the point it looked like the island was the root of this big tree.

"Look at the bark of the main tree," Withira says to them all. 

They all followed her words, inspecting the large tree and with its odd bark. The tree looked like it was made of multiple barks, twirled together and stretched until it was nearly as high as the skies. Multiple dianthus flowers, in color and sizes, grow on the tree along with its bark.

"The root of those twirling barks is where Miss [Name] is," Withira informed. "With the island being sentient, we cannot erase the possibility of the tree immediately closing in on her when your motives became clear."

"Your Highness," Archie suddenly says, pausing on splitting the waters. "It has noticed us."

"What?" Choi Han asked with wide eyes. "Their radar goes this far?"

"Everyone, please hang on!" Archie exclaimed, sounding alarmed, and Cale and the others immediately held onto the railings of the ship. 

Archie bends his whale form so impossibly sharp, his jaws open and he bit down into the oncoming bark underwater. The bark seemed to go frantic, trying to thrash out from Archie's jaws. Multiple barks immediately shot out from underneath the floating island, spreading and targeting every Whale on its tail while keeping themselves underwater. The ship swished along with his movements as he's attempting to rip the bark and it took only moments before the ship capsized, upside down in the ocean.

Another killer whale came, trying to protect the ship they were on as Withira joined the defense, trying to ward off the oncoming barks. Cale made the wind gather into his feet and pushed himself further to support the others so they wouldn't drop to the ocean, spurting blood from his mouth.

"Cale-nim!" Choi Han exclaimed in worry. His voice caught the attention of others and they turned to him, all of them equally concerned. 

"Human, don't push yourself!" Raon reminds him with glassy eyes while Cale set them all to the wet hull of the capsized ship, a temporary solution to their current problem. Cale was on his knees, coughing out some blood as his body worked to restore his energy. 

"Young Master-nim," Ron says, kneeling next to Cale and offering him a handkerchief. Concern crossed his face with the way his eyebrows are slightly creased, the corner of his lips pulled into a displeased frown.

"This is your chance!" Withira exclaimed, smacking an attacking bark with such force that it immediately broke off and became a deadhead in the middle of the ocean. "We will clear the pathways. Get on my back and hang on tight. We will try to avoid the attacking barks."

"We will try to help," Choi Han says with a determined look.

"I'm fine," Cale says to Ron before the butler could help him stand up and help him to Withira's back.

Cale sat in the middle of Withira's back, hand on top of the scar on her form as he prepared himself. Ohn and Hong was tucked close to his chest, Cale holding them with one arm while Ron was beside him. Choi Han and Rosalyn stood in front of them, Rosalyn with her mana ready and with Raon floating by her side. Choi Han withdrew his sword and planted his feet on Withira's back. "Excuse us, Your Highness."

"Are you ready?" Withira asked them, her voice sounding tense.

"Yes," Cale responds.

Withira split the water when she swam, evading the barks and while her men fought off any barks that dared to attack her. Some barks shot out from the water to knock down those standing on her back, but Choi Han immediately sliced them off with his sword and Rosalyn and Raon would protect them by conjuring a shield. Sometimes a killer whale would jump out from the water to stop the barks and lighten the work for them. 

'They're trying their hardest to protect the island,' Cale thought as he watched how the barks had begun to focus more on Withira as she's the only one approaching the island right now.

"Shit-!" Rosalyn conjured up a bigger shield when a killer whale was thrown their way, thrashing in the air and then letting out a wail when it hit Rosalyn's shield. Her shield shook and flickered at the impact but Raon's shield immediately covered it.

"Crazy!" Withira exclaimed, watching as the barks began to chase for her Whales, thick barks wrapped around them and then rising from under the water before throwing the killer whales like toys at them. With more protection, the island began to earn more things to throw at her. "Back down!"

The Whales immediately followed her roar, backing down and avoiding the barks. Withira swam further, mustering all her capabilities into this one swim and the water split as if a high-speed ship with a sharp keel had swam through them, approaching the island quickly. Raon and Rosalyn put more effort into their shields as the barks began to attack them straight on above the water and Choi Han took every chance to slice them off.

"Urgh-!" Withira was suddenly set back as two thick barks quickly shot out and pushed her. The inertia caused the group to nearly got thrown into the dangerous waters but Cale immediately gathered all of his powers and gathered wind into their feet, carrying them up into the air and quickly controlling the wind to bring them into the island.

"Thank you, Your Highness!" Cale exclaimed, trying to make them all land safely inside the island, behind the curling boulders. He ended up throwing them to the dirt a bit haphazardly, but the skilled people he was with managed to land on their feet.

Withira and the Whales swam back, watching from afar. The barks immediately backed down as well and gathered back underneath the floating island's foundation underwater. Withira could feel the two spots on her belly where the barks had pushed her, knowing she will have a hard time swimming for a while if not healed properly. She turned to her Whales, "Is everyone okay?"

As Withira checked on her Whales, Cale and the others looked around the island. Cale had known of floating islands, most were artificial for different purposes, and natural floating islands couldn't get too big. But this one? It was magnificent. The earth was solid and the trees that grew on the island stood tall and loomed over them like giants, dense and slightly unsettling. 

"To be able to grow this tall and big..." Cale began, his voice fascinated. These trees were able to grow and flourish for nearly more than a millennium, and as he inspected them closer, he saw no damage done to the trees that could be caused by the constant exposure to salt-laden ocean spray. Typically, when trees grow so close to the ocean, the salt in the air can accumulate on leaves and stems, causing salt burn on plant tissues. Salt burns can disrupt the normal functioning of leaves, leading to reduced photosynthesis and overall stress on the tree.

The leaves on the trees don't even have any hint of yellowing or browning. It grows healthily despite growing so close to the ocean. In areas with high salt exposure, the soil can become saline due to the accumulation of salts from the ocean and it should have stunted the trees' growth, but these trees stood tall and strong for so many years. 

Cale touched the curling boulders that seemed to be protecting the island from having any stranded people or ships. The way it curled inwards made the island look like a giant bowl, and it could have been the thing that had been protecting the trees from too much ocean spray, as the curling boulders stood taller than Toonka seemed to be.

"I'm surprised the trees on this island aren't attacking us," Rosalyn commented, looking warily around the area. 

"I thought the island is sentient?" Ohn questioned, pawing lightly at one of the roots of a tree with Hong beside her. In her mind (along with the rest of theirs), the island should have been more aggressive the moment they stepped into the island's dirt.

"Keep your guard up," Cale says with a frown. "Her Highness told us [Name] is at the center of the island, underneath the roots of the main tree."

They all turned their heads to look up at the looming tall tree that stood in the middle of the island, so tall that Cale was sure if he went up there, he would be cold and have a hard time breathing. Cale turned to look at the dense forest in front of them, seeing how there were cobblestone paths laid within the dirt as steps, mold growing on them and many were cracked. He turned to Raon, "Raon, do you think you can see the path to the main tree if you fly high enough?"

Raon offered Cale a smile. "Of course! I am the mighty Raon Miru!"

"Good," Cale says with a smile, gently patting the dragon's head before Raon flew up high enough until he could map out the area. He turned to them, calling out, "Human, follow me! I can see the root of that big tree!"

"Let us go," Cale says, walking forward and entering the dense forest, his companions following him from behind with their guards up.

As they walked deeper into the forest, more proof of a past civilization began appearing. The cobblestones were spread in the dirt like a path of a no-transport city, several cobblestones, clay, and wood lay on the ground on what they all assumed must be the homes of the people who used to live there, nature taking over the buildings and have broken them down back into their natural states. Some roots of trees were so big and thick that it was hard to not see and trip on one of them. There were several pedestals of boulders that had been carved into the shape of a dianthus flower, which oddly seemed to be the native flower within the island.

An ancient civilization couldn't be wiped out of existence so quickly like this. It would need some kind of draught or perhaps a drop in the humidity, but the trees flourish here and it would certainly provide enough food for them. Perhaps even a tsunami or an erupting volcano wiped them all out, but the ruins within the island showed that there was no eruption and no tsunamis. The floating island wasn't connected to any tectonic plates so it wouldn't be able to even experience an actual earthquake. The curling boulders by the shore would prevent anyone from leaving, so they couldn't have migrated.

"C-Cale-nim," Choi Han stammered, face averted from Cale and looking down at a lowland from where they were.

"What is it, Choi Han?" asked Rosalyn, following his gaze and her face also paled.

Cale approached them both and looked at where they were looking at. It was a graveyard site that stretched over fifty by fifty meters. Typically a graveyard site wouldn't make one freeze in place, but in front of them was a graveyard site that had all of its graves dug out, graveyard dirt tossed to the side and from their place on an elevated spot, Cale could see that there were no bodies within the graves.

"They all look freshly dug," Ron says quietly. If the graves were dug out a long time ago, the piled-up soil nearby wouldn't be looser and less compacted than the surrounding ground. 

'Are we going to fight the undead?' Cale thought to himself, bewildered. He then discarded his thoughts the moment he noticed the dug-out soil didn't look like it was removed from inside the grave. 

"Let's hurry," Cale says, anxiety crawling up his spine. He bends down a bit, gently pushing the kittens to face away from the graveyard site. "Follow Raon. We need to find [Name] first."

Choi Han forced himself to look away and continued walking. He couldn't imagine having his loved ones' graves disturbed in such a degrading way like that. Rosalyn pats his back, urging him to walk forward and follow Raon who was waving at them, blissfully ignorant of the reason for their sudden stop as he had flown a bit further.

"Human! I found the roots!" Raon announced with a slight grimace. "And it stinks!" 

[nausikaaa]

WIP Wednesday

thank you to everyone who has tagged me these past few weeks, though I haven't had much to share! I'm still fiddling around with part two of my Trojan War novel, so here's some more Briseis.

Lyrnesses was not a rich city by any stretch, but every slave had their own room, handmade clothes, and went to bed at night with a full belly. To some that may have meant nothing. They were still slaves, and that was its own indignity that no amount of kindness could lessen, I had learned. But my own father, born to a wealthy family in Ethiopia, was taken by pirates as a child and sold as a slave. He arrived at Lyrnesses as a young man, where he was freed, eventually attracting the attention of my mother, who fought for her right to marry him, dismissing every wealthy suitor her father offered her to until he relented. They were a rare love match, and I grew up hoping to model their affection in my own marriage.

My father never forgot his mistreatment, and understood how quickly and startlingly a person’s fate could change, and so he was always kind to those less fortunate. I wondered if he ever could have anticipated how my life would turn out to echo his own, to be free, enslaved, and then freed again. But as a woman, I was never as free as he became, and knew I never would be. I would be forever tethered to that part of my life by the children I carried within me.

I thought of my mother. Her deft hands braiding my hair, her clear voice singing along to a bard’s lyre as she did so. My father crooning back to her, making her very name a song. “Hippodamia…”

“Briseus…” She would reply, and tug at one of my curls. I was named after him, and the reminder always made me grin.

a long discussion of Briseis's appearance, plus tags, under the cut:

Briseis is an interesting case when it comes to visualising her. Most greek myth characters are depicted as roughly the same as they're described, but Briseis is so inconsistent! she's described by Homer as fair, and by Ovid as incredibly pale. most renaissance depicts her as blonde, and Natalie Haynes describes her as such in A Thousand Ships. but plenty of more modern art makes her brunette, as she is in the film Troy and the series Troy: Fall Of A City.

and then there's Madeline Miller's The Song Of Achilles, one of the most popular books to feature Briseis, where she is black. I have issues with the writing of all the women in Miller's book, and dislike Briseis being presented as a commoner, who can't speak greek and worships foreign gods, when she was a Queen, and the Trojans had the same gods. not to mention that Miller also kills her off (spoilers? the book is over a decade old) when we simply don't know what happens to her after the Iliad. the entire point of my writing is to fill in that gap in her story.

anyway, i don't mind her being black, and like the art the book has inspired. though i've seen some people say they dislike this choice, as Briseis was a slave, but ancient Greek slavery was a very different concept from the slavery of America and the colonies, and less about skin colour than simply being on the losing side of an invasion or war. that isn't to diminish what those people must have gone through, but there are more slaves in the world right now that there were in any period of ancient history. my Briseis is also given her freedom before the story kicks off.

so in the end, i decided to combine elements of all these depictions. i like Briseis having African heritage like so much art depicts. i like her being pale and looking good in dark colours like Ovid says. so, my Briseis is half Anatolian, half Ethiopian, and has albinism. a mix of this sculpture and this model is pretty much exactly how i envision her.

as for the people who get up in arms any time any person with more than a slight tan is depicted in Greek myth tellings, quite frankly, i don't care to hear it. it's fiction. there are gods meddling in people's lives and you're critiquing the accuracy of someone's ethnicity? anyway, there was an African man in the Trojan War, Memnon, the son of Eos, the goddess of the dawn, and presumably he brought other African soldiers with him. freaking Aphrodite is an evolution of Inanna, a Mesopotamian goddess. Andromeda, the wife of Perseus, was from Ethiopia, and Poseidon is also said to be visiting Africa at the beginning of the Odyssey. the ancient Mediterranean was a melting pot of cultures that was well aware of northern Africa long before the Romans conquered Carthage- which is also visited by Aeneas and his fellow Trojans!

tags: @forabeatofadrum @j-nipper-95 @artsyunderstudy @that-disabled-princess @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @imagineacoolusername @ic3-que3n @aristocratic-otter @larkral @hushed-chorus @ivelovedhimthroughworse @shemakesmeforget @fatalfangirl @ebbpettier @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @youarenevertooold @alexalexinii @shrekgogurt @bookish-bogwitch @thewholelemon @supercutedinosaurs @shutup-andletme-go @theearlgreymage @ileadacharmedlife @alleycat0306 @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @comesitintheclover @blackberrysummerblog and @orange-peony

[cobbssecondbelt]

Dincember 2023 - Day 13: Family

Contrary to common belief, Din Djarin had not always been a lonely man.

His first family was one of colorful garments, frequent parties and many, many cousins. When their familial house was not filled with lively chatter, communal meals and dances to the chorus of guitars and voices from three generations, an aunt’s or a neighbor’s was. Not a single day would be spent in loneliness. Din didn’t have siblings, despite his parent’s best wishes, but lonely he was not, surrounded by too many cousins for his young self to remember them all. Then, they had to flee to the city, and from there, it was only the three of them. In the living room, his father played the guitar, or the violin, or the lute, alone. They ate dinner in the same room, just the three of them. Their ratty apartment never quite felt like home, but they got used to it. They had each other, and that was enough, until they didn’t.

His second family was one of dark visors, sleepless nights, and bruises. Mandalorians did not sing much, Din soon realized with disdain, and the way they danced was blunt, uninspired, made to hurt and not to heal. Children ate together, and the adults watched them, maybe missing the days when they too could share a meal. Eventually, Din discovered these people did laugh too, in close quarters and through vocoders. The man who had rescued him became the man who would raise him, meaning the rude boy sleeping on the top bunk became his brother, much against his will. They trained together, fought together, grieved together, and still, over the years, Din forgot Paz’s face.

His third family was strange.

It started with a green, wrinkled child. Din would never know what pushed him to take the kid (and give him up, and take him again). But then his path became their path, three-toed feet beside his weathered boots making their slow way together across the galaxy. They stumbled upon a wise Ugnaught, a runaway shock trooper, and nearly renounced the stars for the sweetness of a krill farming village and a kind eyed woman. Din wondered, from time to time, what life could have been like if he had stayed. How his body would have aged, freed from the weight of beskar. They did return over the years; one day, there was a new somebody in Omera’s house. He had curly brown hair and a hooked nose, and Din smiled to himself. Another day, and Winta was now a woman. Din for his part was grayer, which Omera would never know, and when she asked if he was happy, he had finally learned how to not overthink it before answering yes.

He met many people from many worlds over their journey. Many Mandalorians, non-Mandalorians in armor, and Mandalorians without armor. He met famous names he had never heard of. Fought for a planet he’d never walked on. Lost his faith, found it again, scarred and battered but still whole, only bearing a new shape. One night he hunted Fennec Shand across the desert, and many moons later, she came to him looking for a friend. Boba Fett vowed to protect Grogu, Din vowed to lay his life for his cause. Slightly overdramatic, looking back, but to his defense, the weeks leading to that event had been awful to say the least.

He lost Grogu. Retrieved him, just to give him away minutes later. Saw him from afar, months later, and felt him in arms the next day after way too long. Decided on this very moment that he would never leave him again, and he didn't.

He saw the marshal again. The memory of his breath against his neck was clear as day as he listened to him talk, the phantom touch of his fingers against his waist etched unto his very nerves while he watched them tap against the first drink of the three he would take that afternoon. Din would pay for them all.

He mourned the marshal. But he would return to Freetown one day, and be proven ridiculously wrong. A story Vanth would have the nerve to laugh about, years later, while they shared their ritual Benduday drink on their porch. At this point in time he had seen Din’s smile plenty of times already, but never grew bored of the way he rolled his eyes every time he recalled that story. Their own story was another adventure, patient and warm and well-earned. Boring, some might say, but it was theirs and theirs only to tell.

Din Djarin had had many families. Some loud, some not, one knit tight by blood and another pieced together one by one into the most singular patchwork. Din had the eyes of his mother and the nose of his father. He had the patience of his grandfather, the deftness of his aunt. He had the heart of a Vetinian, and the bravery of a Mandalorian. He developed confidence with Paz. He was taught perseverance by his buir. He learned many things he would have preferred not to from Xi’an. He discovered camaraderie, with Cara. He opened his mind, through Bo-Katan. Found his honor back, guided by Fett. Learned too much about Jawas because of Peli. Mustered the courage to love, for his marshal. He learned how to live again, thanks to that one green wrinkled child.

So, no, contrary to common belief, Din Djarin was not a lonely man.

[shinra-makonoid]

To be honest this made me look into the r/detrans Reddit again and I see how I matured in my views of transition and all through it.

It used to scare me a little bit, before transitioning, because obviously you wonder if you'll have the same views or stress. I've spoken with two detransitioners too, so I was acutely aware this was a possibility for me and I still took the risk.

I remember that at some point I really doubted myself because these things just dig deep inside your head, and you start overthinking everything you ever do or ever did or ever felt. But the fact was, I liked the way I was living much more and I liked the changes of my body.

Then there was the whole "you'll never be male" and to be honest that was a difficult one to handle because people just go around biology and you can't argue against biology. So you think yeah I'll always be female and that sucks but also I cannot bear to have another period ever again in my life, I like how masculine I look now, I like having a beard and hair, so this is better. I hated feeling like I was some sort of freak show female man, that stigma really stung and I think a lot of detransitioners suffer from that, especially if they don't pass.

But then when you start being stealth and going through life and simply existing with cis people, all of those thoughts just disappear. Which is why I feel bad for a lot of them inside the r/detrans because I can see them being stuck in their head all the time and never escaping the thoughts that I had to deal with at some point. They never experimented with life just existing, they just stay inside themselves asking endlessly who they are, what they are, whether they deserve to be accepted or loved as they are, etc and I don't think it necessarily means they're not trans. I think there are several ways to deal with those feelings and that detransing is one of the ways to control it, and then rationalize it the same way I did, just from opposite views. I think it's linked to the way we're made to look at trans bodies, surgery, scars, body modifications, normality, gender non conformity, mental health issues, social acceptance, etc. We constantly think that the abnormality is to be trans, when the abnormality could also be to detrans, because it is politically motivated, and linked to obvious signs of distress regarding stigma of their own body and gender expectations.

Now I don't doubt that I'm male, that I'm a man, in every single way. And if someone says I'm not, I'll just laugh, because my experience as a man has been so vibrant and rich I don't think you can be in my place and genuinely think I'm a woman. In the end, I became so sure of this, so comfortable in my skin, that I'm simply above all those questions. I just exist, I'm happy in my body. I still change over some thoughts regarding my bottom parts, because I've read a fanfic that kinda opened my eyes in some ways and made me rethink things (which is why it's important to show trans people in the media, especially sexual intimacy imo), but that is basically it.

I love changing, and I love getting older as a man, and I love seeing my muscles slowly grow even after all this time, I love the form of my body, I love watching my beard grow, I love my body hair, I love my skin, I love my top surgery scar. Idk I just almost love it all, I'm filled with love with my body in a way I don't think would have been possible as a woman. Green in his autobiography says that he felt constrained in his masculinity as a woman and I really related to that. HRT freed me in a way I could have never been before, to express my masculinity in a way that wasn't possible ever, to really bloom.

Which is also why I think I should come out because I think I would have liked to have someone like me telling me yeah I had doubts and hyper focused on things, about whether I was male or female, about who I was, but I came through and I absolutely would do it again and again. Had I known I would have done it as a teen, it would have saved me so much time, heartbreak, violence, traumas. Because not transitioning leads you to not care about your life, your body, who you associate with, what you go through etc, and that was harmful to me, and those years will forever be lost.

[broodwoof]

act 1 - first, second, and third memories | first major choice

cws: death; blight; war; slavery

really just theorizing about why these are solas' regrets. the first feels obvious: the woman who ghilan'nain blighted, and the fact that solas had to kill her. rook & co. see this as cruel, but it's inevitable, isn't it, really? i suppose one read of the situation is that, because we don't see her die, perhaps solas did something worse to her... but i don't really buy into that, myself. he understands the blight, at least the risk it poses, and it wasn't like there was even an option to turn her into a grey warden at that time.

he killed one of his people because she became blighted. she became blighted because she carried out her role in this mission.

a regret.

the second one is different. solas and felassan liberating elves. spoke with a friend about this already (waves at u if ur reading this. hi skip!) and there seem to be many possible reasons this was a regret. i don't think he regretted liberating the slaves, but elgar'nan spoke of a payment to be made, and elgar'nan is brutal and cruel. my best guess is that solas' punishment for this was the death of some - or even many - of the slaves he had freed. obviously i don't know, but it seems like a viable possibility.

the other big possibility, imo, is that the injury solas sustained in that battle was somehow the beginning of the end for him, or for his rebellion. elgar'nan could have taken something from him, could have limited his powers somehow, or he could have simply - "simply" - wounded solas enough that he could no longer be in the midst of things. which, he always seems to be? he's an interesting leader, because he keeps showing up and pushing into danger right alongside those he assigned to the task.

the third is... it hurts. but the regret, in this case, is obvious. he used those spirits. he sacrificed them. it was brutal, and it was tactical, and very possibly it was necessary. but, as felassan said, they're supposed to be better than that. but i don't know that solas had that luxury, really; how do you war with numerous gods, your power not a match to any single one much less multiple of them, and remain ethical? he knows it was a horrible thing to do, but he still cared for those spirits. he used ones who would retain their nature unto their death.

solas is and has always been a tactician. felassan, at least what we see in the game, is much more earnest and idealistic. i'm not saying that's bad! it's not! but i can see some of the roots of solas' unwillingness to trust. because it feels like felassan would have stopped him, if solas had been open about his plan here. and they needed that artifact. it's horrible. but i understand, and i truly wonder if there were any alternatives, any other possible approach.

it also hearkens back to one line in the prologue, one of those lines that seems incredibly brutal upon first hearing, but upon further consideration, begins to make a lot of sense. "people always die. it is what they do."

people always die... because of what solas did. he took elvhen immortality from them - and more than that, he took their magic from them, much of it. he robbed them of the ability to defend themselves. he doesn't only care about elves, not at all, but he feels a great personal responsibility for them, because it was his actions that led to their current status.

but he did what he did to prevent the entire planet from being destroyed. the blight is not a war, seeking to claim a territory or a people; it is a force, a contagion, something that infects everything without hesitance. freed, it will destroy the entire planet. all animals, all plantlife, all people, even minerals and stone. dragons and titans. nothing will be free from its grasp.

and for all that rook & co criticize and condemn him... we're already beginning to do the same thing. choosing between treviso and minrathous. there's no moral option; no matter what you do, you're wrong. but we can only do what we can do, and there are choices that have to be made, and rook made them.

similar to the bad magic future timeline in dai. it feels like the only choice is to eradicate that future, but, as leliana says, all of it was real. it happened. sure, our inky rolled back time and prevented that blighted future. but how many children did our inky prevent being born? how many lovers did we erase? how many families did we prevent ever happening? there is no moral option here. there is only the best of bad choices, of impossible choices that have to be made - that's a cornerstone of the scale of things in da games.

all through dai - and now i'm seeing it in davg - we are slowly but surely following the same route solas did so long ago. starting out with an idealistic goal, and increasingly feeling the reality of impossible choices and constant no-win scenarios closing in on us.

[butchkaramazov]

Hey, I hope you're doing well, I see your TUMBLR posts and your page filled so beautifully with greek mythologies, poetry and art. I have always had a keen interest in Greek mythology but couldn't ever pick it up, I was wondering if you could help me to start from the very basics? I can totally understand if you don't want to.

hi, of course i'd love to help you! the basics of every civilization starts with its mythology (in my opinion), so here's an overview of the gods and what came before them.

according to hesiod, the golden age was the mythical first period of man. the people of the golden age were created by/for the titan kronos/cronus/saturn (for romans). humans lived "like gods", i.e. never engaging in too much physical labour, when they died, it was a peaceful death. spring never ended. it is even described as a period in which people aged backward. when they died, they became daimones (a greek word only later converted to "demons") who roamed the earth.

kronos, screwing up here, castrated his own parents (ouranos and gaia - the sky and the earth, respectively) and they foretold that one of his own children is destined to overthrow him as he usurped his father. rhea, his wife, hearing this, was distraught and went to seek help from ouranos and gaia upon becoming pregnant with her sixth child. by now, kronos had developed a habit of swallowing his children so as to prevent the prophecy from materialising. fast forward to the present and rhea gives kronos a stone to eat instead of his sixth child. the child whose life was spared was called zeus, and he later took his place as lord of the sky and king of the olympians (gods).

zeus killed kronos and freed his siblings from his father's stomach, thereby signifying the beginning of a new age (silver age). now, we move on to the gods.

the big three: zeus (god of the sky), poseidon (god of the sea), hades (god of the underworld).

a list of all greek deities.

one thing you absolutely need to know about all the gods (except for athena (goddess of war, handicraft and practical reasoning), artemis (goddess of the hunt, the wilderness, childbirth, care of children and chastity), dionysus (god of wine and pleasure), hades, hestia (goddess of the hearth and warmth) and a few others) is that none of them can keep it in their pants. none of them. and their accusing fingers always point to the woman they lust after. (also they're all bisexual, except for artemis, who is a full-on lesbian.)

myths you can check out for further insight:

hyakinthos (hyacinthus)

minotauros (minotaur)

ariadne

arakhne

orpheus and eurydice

i find this website particularly helpful when it comes to surface-level (but reliable) research.

also remember that the same myth has numerous versions, some of them not even recorded, perhaps. there is no moral way to view the gods. they were simply created to explain the cruelty and the absurdism of nature. plays and artworks based on myths differ from place to place, and these differing versions simply offer us greater insight into the minds of the people rather than the "moral goodness" of the gods.

differentiating between reliable and unreliable sources is a must, and i would recommend logging onto internet archive if you want to read classical texts and immerse yourself in in-depth research.

hope this helps! <3

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Mose and Onni Durst – their legacy

I remember when the Dursts were a big deal, what with her being the notorious Onni, and him becoming the UC president in the U.S.

Dr. Durst used to be seen a lot on TV, and even when I was still in the church in the mid 80’s, I thought his TV manner was just a little too inauthentic to be believed by a lot of folks who might watch him. For example, his oft-repeated “If our eyes are glazed, they are glazed because we are crying for the world”, just came across as practiced and obvious. After the Oakland church was no longer the recruiting powerhouse it had been in the 70’s, it seems like its time had just sort of passed. It had been sort of a cult within a cult, with some of the older members, especially women, speaking in near-worshipful terms about “Omma and Oppa”. I always thought it was kind of weird, the level of admiration those members held, with the Dursts (and Kristina Morrison/Seher) being regarded as infallible. I wonder how the Dursts got along with all the later changes: becoming rather marginalized, the loony stuff like Black Heung Jin and the Hyo Jin revelations, the fractures in the so-called “True Family”, and the developments of the last year or so. I wonder what they think now? What is their relationship with the present and recent UC leadership really like? Do they (or Dr. Durst, anyway) see the deficiency of the Korean and Japanese leadership’s understanding of how to reach Americans? I wonder what they really think of the (ahem) “True Children”. They brought a lot of people into the church. They must know how many longtime members have left, and why. Do they ever wonder how it is that all their grand ideas for an “ideal city”, all the pie-in-the-sky they promised the members, all the statements of how things would be by now, have come to naught? Do they ever lie awake at night and wonder if drawing people in with big ideas and big words (and all the deception, dissembling, and subterfuge they used to retain recruits), was a mistake? That their lives have produced little of lasting substance? That they hurt people?

________________________________

“Onni Durst is a woman of guts. While she was at a slot machine in Las Vegas, she completely ran out of coins; she went to the next person, smiled, and borrowed some coins.”

Sun Myung Moon (May 19, 1980, New York City)

________________________________

Onni Durst’s trips to Las Vegas casinos, New York, and Seoul – and her luxurious lifestyle.

Childcare in the Unification Church of Oakland

$27,000 Mercedes for Onni Durst – “Take it back”, she said, “It’s the wrong color.”

Onni Durst lied under oath

Onni Durst is a supporter of the Woo group – led by another illegitimate son of Moon

The “sophisticated honey of 1960’s counterculture jargon” by Mose Durst

Boonville – “It was a very complex set of manipulations”

UC/FFWPU Recruitment – The Boonville Chicken Palace

Barbara Underwood and the Oakland Moonies

Ford Greene – the former Moonie became an attorney

Inside Look at a Boonville Moonie Training Session

Papasan Choi and Boonville’s Japanese origins

Moonwebs by Josh Freed (the book was made into a movie)

Crazy for God: The nightmare of cult life by Christopher Edwards

Camp K, aka Maacama Hill, Unification Church recruitment camp

The Social Organization of Recruitment in the Unification Church PDF  by David Frank Taylor, M.A., July 1978, Sociology

[lilwitchyghostie]

NYMPH IN THE GARDEN

Jeremy had always been drawn to the garden, even though he couldn't see the sculptures. He could feel their presence, their smooth curves and intricate details, through his fingertips. Every day, he would visit the garden, running his hands over the statues, imagining their beauty in his mind.

What puzzled Jeremy was why Sophia, the woman who created such beautiful art, seemed to have so few friends. She was always kind and welcoming to him, but he wondered why others didn't seem to appreciate her talent and warmth.

One sunny afternoon, as Jeremy explored the garden, he stumbled upon a hidden corner. There, he discovered a statue unlike any he had felt before. Its features were delicate and refined, and the craftsmanship was impeccable. Intrigued Jeremy reached out to touch it, and as his fingers traced the contours, he felt a warmth radiating from the statue.

Suddenly, a soft voice filled the air, "Hello, my dear friend. It's been a while since someone has discovered me."

Startled yet excited, Jeremy realized that the statue could speak. "Who are you?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I am Lyra, a nymph who was turned into stone by a jealous goddess," the statue replied. "Sophia, the kind woman who runs this garden, is the only one who can hear me. She has dedicated her life to freeing me from this curse."

As the story unfolded, Jeremy learned that Sophia had spent years studying ancient Greek myths and legends. She had discovered the hidden corner of the garden where Lyra stood, Trapped in stone. Determined to set Lyra free. Sophia poured her heart and soul into creating these statues, hoping to find the key to breaking the curse.

Moved by Sophia's dedication, Alex realized why she had few friends. Her passion for her art and her mission had consumed her life. While others admired her sculptures, they couldn't understand the depth of her commitment.

From that day forward, Jeremy became Sophia's closest friend and ally. He offered his support, lending his unique perspective as a blind individual to help Sophia understand the emotions her sculptures evoked. Together, they embarked on a journey to unravel the secrets of the curse and set Lyra free.

Their friendship grew stronger with each passing day, and as they worked tirelessly to unlock the mystery, Sophia's garden became a place of wonder and enchantment for all who visited. The townsfolk began to appreciate Sophia not only as an artist but also as a compassionate soul who had dedicated her life to a noble cause.

In the end, their efforts paid off. With Jeremy's guidance and Sophia's unwavering determination, they deciphered the ancient riddles, and Lyra was finally freed from her stony prison. The garden erupted in celebration as the once-immobile nymph danced and twirled, her laughter echoing through the air.

As the years went by, Sophia's garden flourished, attracting visitors from far and wide. Jeremy and Sophia continued their friendship, their bond unbreakable. And in the heart of the garden, Lyra's statue stood, a reminder of the power of friendship, perseverance, and the beauty that can be found even in the darkest corners of life. And so, the blind man and the Greek lady with the statue garden became an inseparable duo, their story a testament to the magic that can be found when one opens their heart to the world around them.

[sheepsuaa]

**Tiny, the Brave Little Puppy**

Once upon a time, in a quiet village nestled between rolling hills and tall, whispering trees, there lived a little puppy named Tiny. Despite his small size, Tiny had the heart of a lion. He was the runt of the litter, much smaller than his brothers and sisters, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in curiosity and courage.

Tiny was born in a cozy barn, on a farm that belonged to a kind old woman named Mrs. Maple. She adored all her animals, but Tiny had a special place in her heart. He had the softest fur, a warm caramel color, and bright, twinkling eyes that always seemed to be on the lookout for the next adventure. Mrs. Maple could tell that Tiny was going to be something special, even though others often overlooked him.

As soon as Tiny could walk, he started exploring. The world outside the barn was vast and full of wonders. He’d chase butterflies in the morning dew, splash in the shallow creek, and play with the chickens who clucked and squawked at his playful antics. Every day brought something new for Tiny, and he greeted each sunrise with excitement.

But one day, as Tiny was chasing a particularly elusive butterfly, he wandered farther than he ever had before. He scampered through fields and over small hills until he found himself at the edge of the dark forest that stood at the village’s edge. The villagers always warned their children about going too close to the forest, saying it was full of mysteries and dangers. But Tiny, being a brave little puppy, wasn't afraid. His little nose twitched as he sniffed the cool air coming from the forest, and before he knew it, his tiny paws were padding along the shadowy path.

The deeper Tiny went, the quieter it became. The cheerful chirping of birds faded, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs. Tiny's heart began to pound, but he kept moving forward, his curiosity stronger than his fear.

Suddenly, Tiny heard a soft cry. It was faint, but unmistakable—the sound of someone in trouble. His ears perked up, and without hesitation, he followed the sound. The path led him to a small clearing where he saw a young deer caught in a thicket of thorny bushes. The deer was struggling, its delicate legs tangled in the sharp thorns, unable to break free.

Tiny didn't hesitate. Despite his small size, he knew he had to help. He bravely approached the deer, carefully nudging the thorns away with his nose, trying not to hurt the poor creature. The thorns pricked his paws, but Tiny didn't stop. Slowly, he freed the deer from the trap of thorns. The young deer, grateful and trembling, stood up and nuzzled Tiny's cheek in thanks.

The deer, whose name was Willow, told Tiny that she had gotten separated from her family while they were moving through the forest. Willow was lost, and without Tiny's help, she might have been stuck there for hours, maybe even days. Tiny wagged his tail proudly, but he knew their adventure wasn't over yet. He had to help Willow find her family.

Together, the tiny puppy and the graceful deer set off deeper into the forest. Along the way, they encountered all sorts of challenges—steep hills, babbling brooks, and dark, twisting paths. But Tiny faced each challenge with courage, and with Willow by his side, they became an unstoppable team.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of searching, they heard familiar voices. Willow's family was just beyond a small grove of trees! With a burst of excitement, Willow sprinted toward them, and Tiny followed, his little legs working as fast as they could.

Willow's family was overjoyed to see her, and they all nuzzled her warmly, thanking Tiny for his bravery and kindness. As a reward, the leader of the deer, an old and wise buck, gave Tiny a special gift—a small, shiny acorn that, according to legend, held the magic of the forest. It was said to bring good fortune to whoever carried it, and the old buck knew that Tiny, with his brave heart, deserved it.

Tiny, beaming with pride, took the acorn and tucked it into his collar. He bid farewell to his new friends and began the journey back home. The sun was setting as Tiny finally reached the edge of the forest. Mrs. Maple was waiting for him, worry etched across her face, but when she saw Tiny trotting toward her, safe and sound, she scooped him up in her arms with tears of relief.

From that day on, Tiny was known throughout the village as the bravest little puppy. Word of his adventure spread, and everyone admired his courage. But Tiny didn’t let it go to his head. He was still the same playful puppy who loved chasing butterflies and splashing in the creek. Only now, he had a shiny acorn around his neck and a heart full of new friends and memories.

Tiny may have been small, but his bravery was as big as the world he loved to explore. And he knew that no matter how tiny you are, you can always make a big difference.

[montanababe7]

Jesus is healing ❤️‍🩹 me.

I’ve had walls up all of my life. My trust in others had been so entwined to the strings attached that were my good ole friend of fear and trauma. I allowed the traumas of my past to speak on who Jessica really was. The Jessica who was so incredibly strong and supportive for others, but never truly appreciated the strength that Jesus had placed in my life.

In these moments of quiet, it has truly been apparent, that I need to remember where my value and who I am is therein.

Even before the traumas took place and even now, in fully retrospect, Jesus is reminding me of who I am. I am not my once former traumas. Jesus wants my heart fully freed, healed, and whole.

I need to start being thankful for all of the beautiful plethora of precious gifts and priceless treasures Jesus has given & fully entrusted me with.

This is a season of thankfulness. I can feel the beautiful magnitude of the precious presence of Jesus flowing on through. This moment in time is very important. I will forever set this season in my memory even when I’m looking back to the time when I’m 👵🏼 old and grey. I’ll remember this moment-that Jesus reached out to my heart and impressed this writing that I needed to jot down.

The journeys have been arduous and long at times. Painful, sorrowful, at moments; and joyful at other times. Jesus has always been there. Jesus has never left my side. Not even once. Even to the times, I didn’t think I had a friend in the world-Jesus was there. Jesus has always been there.

Whatever the future holds, I know Jesus holds the key. One day, I’ll be standing in Heaven with Jesus face to face.

It is my prayer 🙏🏼, that my beloved Husband and precious children know how much I love them. They saved me. In ways that I’ll never even be able to say.

Before meeting my husband, I was d r o w n i n g in my own personal hell. In a world of pain. I always knew how to put on a brave face. I wore many 🖤 emotional 🎭 back than. A different one. My makeup 💄 and hair was always perfect and on fleek. Here’s the thing. Most saw a beautiful face. They saw a perfect picture of a beautiful life I had lived. They didn’t see the broken 👩🏻 woman I was underneath. One thing my mom said years ago. Was accurate. But. Was so painful. I was a shell 🐚. I was sha Tt er Ed glass 🪟 on the inside. A frail porcelain glass 💜heart. Over time, the fragile outer exterior- turned into what some called heartless, abrasive, and me a n. Jessica Wolf, myself became like a cactus 🌵 on the outside, with that porcelain heart ❤️ that I mentioned above was hiding somewhere on the inside. I never wanted anyone to see just how truly broken I really was. I, also wanted to speak Jesus goodness and joy into others, and I, think somewhere I needed to remember and to, remind myself, once more and once again, that I need to know that I mattered to. I have value and worth.

I’m ready for Jesus to heal me. To really. And, to truly heal me. I’m ready to let all the pain go and have the full manifestation of the joy that Jesus beautiful healing ❤️‍🩹 presence brings.

So.

I’m going to focus on the wonders, the beauty, the magnitude, the rich depths of wonders and the glory of the heart of Jesus even more than the painful traumas of the past.

Jesus is here in this moment. He’s healing me. But, guess what, folks. Even as you’re reading this right now, Jesus is healing you, too.

Rest in Jesus presence. He’s waiting to meet with you in the quiet. Past all the noise. In the stillness. His still small voice is whispering for you to draw near and close to the author ✍️ of each of our souls. He loves you far more you or, even, I could ever even possibly begin to e ever imagine.

Remember. Jesus is the prince of peace. He is el Shadi. He is Jehovah Rapha. He is Elohim. Jesus love is more than enough. If he can heal my heart, Jesus can also heal your heart too.

Thanks for listening 👂.

Jessica.

[mapecl-stories]

The Rescue of a Forgotten Cat: Cassey's Dream Comes True

The cat, Cassey, sat in a small cage, looking sadly out of the window of the animal shelter. She had spent so many days here, longing for a loving home. But somehow, she was always overlooked. Cassey was gentle and friendly towards other cats, but it seemed to go unnoticed.

She couldn't understand it. Why didn't anyone see how lovable and sweet she was? She wished so much for someone to fall in love with her and rescue her from this place. Her heart yearned for a compassionate human companion who would welcome her with open arms.

Cassey also dreamed of having a nice feline friend to play and cuddle with. She imagined what it would be like to romp and have adventures together in a new home.

With each passing day in the animal shelter, Cassey's hope diminished a little more. But she didn't give up. She knew that somewhere out there, someone was waiting for her. Someone who would see her and love her just as she was.

In her thoughts, Cassey sent out an SOS. She hoped that her story and her lovable nature would touch people's hearts. She wished for this message to be shared so that she could finally be freed from this terrible situation.

Days went by, and Cassey couldn't wait for someone to finally come and take her away. She dreamed of a warm, cozy home where she would be lovingly cared for and appreciated. A place where she could finally be happy.

And then, the unexpected happened. A woman entered the animal shelter and stopped in front of Cassey's cage. She looked directly into Cassey's eyes and smiled. It was love at first sight.

The woman opened the door of the cage and gently picked up Cassey. Cassey's heart raced with excitement. She knew that this was the moment she had been waiting for.

Cassey was rescued from the animal shelter and finally found her dream home. The woman turned out to be a compassionate human companion and had even brought along a nice feline friend for Cassey. The two instantly hit it off and became best friends.

Cassey could hardly believe her luck. She had managed to break free from her sad fate and find a loving family. Her SOS call had worked, and her dream had come true.

The days of loneliness and despair were over. Cassey cherished every moment in her new home and was immensely grateful that someone had finally seen her for who she truly was: a wonderful, lovable cat who deserved to both give and receive love.

P.S. For those who genuinely wish to make Cassey's dream come true:

Cats in the animal shelter

Cassey Female 4-5 years old Tame Compatible with other cats

Contact via Tierhilfe_belarus@posteo.de