#treasure is value to the beholder

[fulgurbugs]

what do you think is the worst octopath take you’ve ever seen

ok i’ve seen a lot on reddit. because sadly i do crosspost there… so i can’t remember everything but one from recent memory that i remember clowning on with my friend is someone on reddit saying that alfyn and tressa wouldn’t like each other. literally why the fuck would they dislike each other they’re actually best friends forever

[cloudcountry]

the fallen angel, freed.

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: if loving them is a sin, he'd damn himself a billion times over.

Author's Comments: this is me writing about the parallels between simeon and lilith. you'll see.

~~~~~

When Lucifer fell from the Celestial Realm, he went down with a bang. His glorious white wings were a sight to behold as they carried him through the battlefield, leading his brothers into battle as they fought for the life of their sister. The very life that the angels wanted to extinguish. Creatures known for their kindness and virtue and mercy, trying so hard to take the life of one of their own. Simeon doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so ghastly.

While Simeon did not take a side, he still treasures Lucifer greatly, and admires Michael much the same way. It doesn’t matter to him that Lucifer is a demon now, or that he has sworn loyalty to Diavolo. He would have done the same if he had a sister that went through what Lilith did. Whether what happened to her was fair or not, he cannot say, because he is part of a world that values purity above all else (at what cost?) and hasn’t changed that in centuries.

In a morbid way, Simeon cannot blame Diavolo for saying Lucifer looked stunning. Lucifer was a fearsome foe, but no matter how beautiful he was, Simeon never wanted to view him as an enemy. He’s one of the few angels that doesn’t view the demons as enemies—He knows Luke has questions about the decision Michael has made, and he knows that the young angel will eventually leave the nest and form opinions beyond what the Celestial realm has taught him. That’s the reason Simeon offered to participate in the exchange program with him. He won’t be around forever, though he thought he’d have a few more years.

Here he stands, in front of Michael. His posture is straight, but his arms are relaxed. There is no use denying the inevitable, and the expression on the other angel’s face is a clear indication that he cannot escape this fate.

“Simeon.” Michael says, voice regretfully and full of sorrow. Simeon is glad Luke doesn’t have to see this.

“Michael.” Simeon gives him an easy smile, like they’re talking over afternoon tea and not his fall from grace, “What is your verdict? I heard you’ve been discussing this with the other seraphim.”

“You know what’s going to happen.” he frowns, brow furrowing. Simeon continues to smile, “The fact is, you fell in love with a human. That human suffered a grave injury at the hands of a demon, and you gave them fruit from the Celestial Realm. You altered their lifespan. That’s strictly forbidden. You know this.”

Simeon says nothing. There’s nothing to say. He did, he fell in love with them, one of the human exchange students that attended RAD for some time. He cares about them in ways that tear him apart inside, He’s aware he’s repeating history. Simeon is painfully aware of everything he has done that led him up to this point, and yet he doesn’t regret a single thing.

If loving them is a sin, he'd damn himself a billion times over.

Is this what Lucifer felt in his final moments as an angel?

“You’re the last angel I expected to fall.” Michael says, his words slow and face full of regret, “I want to understand—why have both you and Lilith taken fruit from our Realm? That’s not virtuous, nor is it acceptable. We are not supposed to interfere, for what are we without our virtues?”

Nothing, Simeon thinks, Angels are nothing if they are not completely free of sin.

Their virtues make them who they are.

They may as well stab the spear that Raphael wielded in the Great Celestial War through his heart. Simeon thinks that would hurt less.

How many angels have to fall for Heaven to change?

Michael notices his silence and says nothing in return. (It's odd to see Michael being so stern towards him, but he's talked to Simeon like this before. It's his disciplining voice, and that almost makes him chuckle. Almost.) They both know what has to happen for the Celestial Realm to continue down the path it’s set forth for its angels. They both know where Simeon is going now. They both know his new place is in the Devildom, where demons are.

But all demons are not the same. Simeon knows this all too well, but it’s not as though the other higher-rank angels (aside from Michael and Raphael, who admire Lucifer greatly) would know anything about that. He always wishes he could have taken all of them down to the Devildom with him, to see how hard-working Lucifer still is and how strong Mammon has become and how dedicated Leviathan is and how they have a new brother, Satan, and he’s one of the kindest souls Simeon has ever seen and how Asmodeus has amassed more fans than ever and how Beelzebub has grown into the protector his brother need to most and how Belphegor...Belphegor...

And how they ruined Belphegor. How the joy in that demon’s eyes had faded before the exchange student came, and how the fascination he had with humans that had been shunned by the angels had been fully embraced by the human and Diavolo.

Diavolo. The demon that rules his subjects fairly and always listens to even the lowest demons. The demon whose admiration of Lucifer rivals even Michael. The demon who welcomed him and Luke with open arms and helped them adjust to their new home for the next year. His butler, Barbatos, who nobody really noticed but had convinced Luke that not all demons were terrible within a few baking lessons. Barbatos, the demon that had gone to supermarkets and little excursions with him on many occasions and had proved to have better manners than a lot of the angels did.

Bitter. Simeon was feeling bitter. How foreign of a feeling this was!

Perhaps he was already falling.

Michael is staring, and it's only then that Simeon realizes he said nothing in response to his speech about virtues. Is there anything virtuous about violence against an innocent family of brothers?

“We won’t kill you.” he whispers, eyes full of a deep regret that Simeon knows is about the brothers and Lilith, “I will never...obliterate an angel again. I regretted it...the last time. But I still have to punish you somehow. I still have to act with authority. I’m sorry. You will fall, Simeon. I only hope Diavolo has mercy on you.”

Now that his fall is inevitable, he feels the doubts that have built up over the years slipping free from his mind, and he clutches them to his chest like precious jewels. Heaven has abandoned him, and he will live without the eyes of grace upon him for all eternity.

And so he stands when Michael stands. He follows him, and the second he steps out into the radiance of his home, he hears the sound of Luke calling out to him. He cannot stop his head from whipping towards the noise, only to see the small boy standing beside none other than Raphael. The angel he’s so close with betrays nothing in his expression, but Luke—sweet, naive Luke—is crying harder than Simeon has ever seen him cry. The young boy is screaming at him not to leave, to stay up in the Celestial Realm with him (even though Simeon is helpless) because Simeon is his family and he doesn’t know what he will do without him.

Simeon breaks, his brow furrowing in misery as a stab of regret pierces his heart, and he rushes over to Luke with his wings flared out behind him. Raphael holds his spear as though he'll never let it go again as he points it warningly at Simeon, but Simeon doesn't even care as he scoops Luke up in his arms and holds the crying boy.

The young shouldn’t have to see such a display. Luke has been through too much already.

And so Simeon holds him. He shushes Luke softly as the boy grabs at his back, fat tears hitting his shoulder like stones.

“You’ll be okay, Luke. You can come visit me.” Simeon soothes, trying to reassure the angel before he, too, starts a rebellion against the higher powers, “I won’t be gone forever. Just...away. Shh, shhhh...it’s okay. You’re strong now, you don’t need me anymore.”

“But I do!” Luke cries, squeezing him so tightly that Simeon almost believes Luke can protect him from this fate, “I have no one else to turn to if you aren’t here-”

“Brother.” Raphael says, voice as deadpan as always, “Michael is waiting.”

Simeon sucks in a shuddering breath and sends one last smile Luke’s way. It’s like a token, a trinket for those nights when Luke has nightmares and can’t run to Simeon’s room anymore. It’s the comforting warmth that will replace the hot chocolate they used to make together when they had trouble sleeping, and a final smile in the series of smiles they have shared before.

Luke does not smile back, and he is still crying.

The next few moments are a blur of light and clouds. He sees his clothes turning completely black, his wings enduring searing pain. He tastes blood and bile and hears the screams of the fallen angels before him as he pullets to the earth. They’re so loud, too loud, and Simeon wishes they would stop and leave him in peace, but the clouds are closing and sealing shut and the light has disappeared entirely.

In the darkness, he sees them, and that’s all the light he needs.

Simeon closes his eyes, and he bears it.

He falls and falls and falls before dirt catches him, the slam of his body on the hard ground sending a shockwave through his bones. He doesn’t get up, he doesn’t even twitch. He does, however, open his eyes and stare into a familiar blackened sky.

“My, my. It seems you’ve found yourself in a predicament.” a familiar voice hums, a soft chuckle soon following.

Simeon opens his mouth to speak, but his throat feels dry and cracked. It feels like he hasn’t drank anything in months.

Barbatos reaches out to him, helping the fallen angel on his side. Simeon’s body screams at him to stay down, for him to stop moving, but he can't listen to it. He needs to get up.

“Do not push yourself too hard. The Young Master has already been informed of this matter and is taking the necessary steps to ensure that you're well taken care of.” Barbatos reassures him, the gentle smile on his face telling Simeon he knew all of this would happen, “Though, unfortunately I must admit that you will be another fallen angel that Michael regrets. However, beings in power do what they must, and they do what is right.”

“Barbatos...” Simeon winces, clutching his side as slick blood gathers on his gloves.

“Don’t speak. Conserve your energy.” he smiles, “I have called MC over, and they shall be arriving shortly. You are their hero, after all.”

Right. The reason he did what he did.

Blood on the floor of RAD. A demon holding them by the throat. Filthy, sharp nails digging into their skin. The images blur together because he doesn’t want to remember, it was so horrible and gory and he doesn’t know how they survived that.

It was probably only thanks to him.

“Do you think...it was worth it?” Simeon asks, a bitter laugh escaping his throat.

“You are to be the judge of that. I cannot say either way.” Barbatos replies, the response so serious it almost makes him laugh more.

If it wasn’t for the pain he feels all over, he might have.

He sits with Barbatos in silence, feeling and feeling as his abrasions and changes take hold of him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can do this, he’s sure he’s going to die here and now and nobody can save him, and he’ll never see them or Luke again, and-

“Simeon?” a gentle voice calls, a familiar figure running towards him as Barbatos steps out of the way.

A wretched gasp escapes his throat as the exchange student comes into view, their brow furrowed with worry and lips parted as they pant. They must have run here as soon as Barbatos told them what was going on, and the warmth he feels at the sight of the human he saved pushes out most of the pain. It’s like his arms have a mind of their own because they reach for the human despite the creaking of his bones and the screaming of his muscles.

They reach him before he does.

They crush him against their chest in an embrace that feels like the warmth of the sun on his back, and all the breath in Simeon’s lungs vanishes in an instant. his mouth hangs open as they sob into his hair, stroking his head like he’s something precious, like they’re so glad he’s okay. He uses the last of his strength to wrap his arms around them, straining the muscle as they cry that they were so worried and how he shouldn’t have done something like that if it meant falling from grace and that they aren’t that important and he shouldn’t have risked it and oh, he’s such an idiot but they love him anyways, they loved him when he was an angel and they'll love him now, regardless of what he’s done or what his fate is or what form he’s taken because he’s Simeon and Simeon is the only one they want.

He hears all of this and begs his mind to come up with something to say, something poetic and romantic that he can normally put into writing so easily, just to thank them for the kindness they've always displayed towards him, but he comes up empty.

So he quiets their sobs with a kiss. He kisses them with tears rolling down his face, he kisses them with his tattered wings and abandoned soul, he kisses them like that soul belongs to them because it does, even though it's been trampled and dirtied and destroyed.

They kiss him back.

And under the vacant, darkened sky with his torn wings and blackened soul, he falls all over again.

[ostrichmonkey-games]

Anyways, speaking of working on games, how about some Stampede Wasteland updates;

Working on a carousing table;

Also a little table to inspire GMs when they need to whip up a last second mission;

And the highlight of this post, rules for tracking Resources and rules for tracking money. Resources first.

The goal was to come up with an abstracted way of keeping track of the more mundane supplies and stuff that PCs are going to need without having to worry about actually keeping track of things. So, behold, either you have it or you don't.

Resources Each player has an abstract, binary pool of Resources. This covers rations, water, fuel, bullets. All the bare necessities. If it is ever in question whether you have Resources or not, roll+Hits marked. On a success, you’re out of what you need. You either have Resources or you don’t. There’s no in between. 

And now for wealth. Originally, I had a pretty standard "this sort of things costs this much" and "this job might reward this much". But here's the thing, coming up with actual monetary values sucks and I hate doing it! Also, given that supplies are abstract, why shouldn't money be abstract? Internal consistency is nice.

So, two birds one stone, I ripped out the original "wealth system" and replaced it with the following;

Cash Each player has an abstract pool of cash on hand at any given moment. The exact amount doesn’t matter. You can have No Money, A Little Money, A Lot of Money, or More Money Than You Could Ever Imagine (you cannot actually ever have this much money, bummer).  Each time you gain A Little Money, mark one slot on the track (10 slots). Once the track is filled up, you have A Lot of Money.  If you have A Little Money, you can always afford things that cost A Little Money. Same for A Lot of Money. If a situation ever arises where you might lose money, roll+money slots marked vs 20. On a success, you’re good. On a miss, step down one wealth level.  Money is tracked individually, but you can give a slot of Money to someone else if you really want. Cash rewards go to whoever is the agreed upon treasurer. Hope you trust them. If a character ever dies with wealth on them, half the number of marked money slots can be recovered from their remains, rounded down to a minimum of zero.  Nobody starts the game with any money.

Ultimately, how much money you have wasn't going to matter in the game beyond bookkeeping, just whether or not you had enough. And this subsystem represents that better. I ended up going with "roll+money slots marked" as the "modifier" to the roll because it makes some sense that the more cash you have, the harder it is to lose it all.

Still plugging away at the GM facing material, but honestly, almost all the player-facing stuff is done (and I'm going to be doing some small playtesting, before maybe opening it up some. We'll see.), and it is nice to get closer and closer to text-complete.

[angelic-dew]

Can I get some yan tanjiro pls?

# yandere tanjiro headcannons !

▸🥢・yuri's thoughts :: this request is so old, i am so sorry.

▸🍂・pairing :: Tanjiro K. x g/n reader — {you/your pronouns}

▸✖ ・trigger warnings :: yandere. isolation. possessive behaviour. occ? obsessions. delusions. jealousy. manipulation. grammatical errors. || proofread.

⚝Just a reminder I don't tolerate nor do I encourage the following topics in reality; I like keeping it strictly to fiction

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere which is stricken to the core with pure 'love'; well that's what he tends to call it. All his love and dedication is solely devoted towards his angelic darling, nothing could compare to how you make him feel - it's as if you're a simple treasure, that he must keep safe and hidden away from the greediness of the world.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that doesn't show his yandere tendencies often, to be frank, they never show unless it's a life-or-death situation. However, he tends to always reassure you more often than not, even when you don't need it. Kamado is always professing his undying lust for you in the simplest of ways: either soft praises of his own sentimental value towards you or a gentle gaze accompanied by a slight smile is always enough.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that cannot bare to see you in pain, furthermore, to see your beloved eyes beginning to weep and sob; he truly can't bare to behold a sight such as that, so more often than not, he would do almost anything in his power to keep you happy. Your smile is what he cherishes most. In fact, that's what attracted him to you in the first place, your captivating smile, it was just so alluring and he craves to see that sight more and more.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that spoils you from time to time; that being small gifts or maybe a thing or two you were eyeing at the market the other day. He does tend to pay his utmost attention to your every want and need, he's always listening to you - the slayer is just too wrapped around your finger, my dear, he will listen to your every beck and call, despite how ridiculous they may be. Anything to keep you happy after all.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that never shuts his trap about you. Singing your praises to the top of his lungs as if you're some God when he's away from you on a mission of some sort. He has constant reminders from Zenitsu to kindly shut up but those words tend to fall on deaf ears, for his beloved angel calls his name, every hour of each day, despite their presence being absent.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that manipulates you right from the start. It was his best attempt at a pacifist way of claiming you as his own for good. He spends his time with you when he's not on missions, whether that's enjoying your presence near him or Kamado savouring the conversation you both share together.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that with every individual word that comes out of that mouth of his, it is inclined to store such overbearing emotion behind them. Especially when he locked his eyes on you with such sweet eyes and a tender smile always plastering itself along his face. His voice was inevitably solemn and gentle; as the passion he felt for you was evident within his pupils.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that will make himself familiar with your hobbies/interests. Either trying them out himself or gaining more knowledge about said thing. It always fills him with pure joy to hear you talk about what makes you happiest in the world, and now that he's familiarized with them - he can understand that passion of yours to a greater degree.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that loathes in your loves. He wants it all for himself, he doesn't mind that he's selfish; all he really needs is you, his angel and your love is the purest thing he can get in life.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that doesn't take kindly to rivals, of course, he won't do anything drastic, however, jealousy still radiates off him by the boatload, it's always clear in his demeanour when he feels this type of way. Whether this person may be close to him or not, the only one he truly trusts you around is Nezuko - everyone else is out of the question.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that due to his jealousy, has to find a way to make the 'problem' go away, that is when he finds himself approaching you while the person is with you. Offering you some food or asking you to help him out with some matters. If all fails he pulls you in by the waist and pecks your cheek.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that needs you, to be with you desperately. He loves to savour your beauty your everything; his words are gentle but his intentions are darker and growing more calculated and precise every day he spends with you, that 'love' of his is also growing, like a flame, rapidly burning more as the warmth takes over. He's hooked on you like a drug, a drug he can't get enough of.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that is fully aware of what his actions may cause. The loss of friends and such, he's fully aware and it barely stings him as he does realize the mess he is making. After all, you're his, and he's pulling you closer to him every day; to the point, you feel like he's your world. You're so dependent on him. It's almost pathetic. But don't worry my dear, that's what he wants - he is more than capable of suiting your every demand.

ʚ🥢ɞ. tanjiro is a yandere that is an addict for you, and he surely knows that. He's waiting for the day he can claim you as his forever soulmate, for even death cannot draw him apart from you.

© angelic-dew :: reblogs are appreciated ! <3

[justalonelybitch]

Possessions of The Heart

Yunjin x F!Reader (Ft. Karina)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Jealously, Possessiveness

Word Count: 3.7k

Buy Me A Coffee :)

Possession: to retain ownership and control over someone or something. A possession is something precious that one holds dear, nurturing and caring for it. To protect it from the loathsome dangers of this infected world. Keeping it to oneself, for it is not to be shared, but to be sheltered from the tainted touch of careless humans. Something to be cherished by only one, for others cannot truly appreciate the magnitude of its beauty. Admiring it for every fault, as beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Learning to love every unique feature and treasure it for as long as one can possess it. Understanding all its unusual quirks, knowing what it takes to maintain its pure innocence. Preserving its integrity and most importantly, not letting it fall into the poisoned hands of one's deceitful foes.

To Huh Yunjin, you were a possession.

She valued you above all else, treating you with the utmost attentiveness. You were her most prized possession and she cherished you with all her heart. There was nothing more important to Yunjin than you, she didn’t have a clue in the slightest as to why, but what she did know was that when she was with you, nothing else seemed to matter. She admired your every quality, good or bad, there was no difference to her. Your flaws were perfection in her eyes, features that merely further enhanced her attraction to you. Whether you held her heart in the palm of your hand was never a question, but a reality Yunjin faced with open arms. She feared nothing when it came to loving you, for it was a leap of faith she’d take any day. You were worth the risk, everything about you made her more willing to hand over the keys to the fortress she’d kept guarded most her life.

Only one problem remained. A possession you may be, but Huh Yunjin’s you were not.

“Unnie?” Your soft whisper broke her from those poisoned racing thoughts, gaze flickering from the ceiling to you. Her chocolate brown orbs met yours in the darkness, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. Yunjin’s arms moved with a mind of their own as they snaked around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Waiting patiently for you to speak, a giggle slipped past her lips as you snuggled into the crook of her neck with a shy whine. You felt her fingertips begin to trace calming nonsensical patterns along the bare skin of your back where your shirt had ridden up. “How do you know if you like someone?” You mumbled, warm breath tickling the skin of her neck. Yunjin’s hands came to an abrupt halt as the words rolled off your tongue, grip on your waist tightening as she felt her breath catch in her throat.

“You like someone?” She uttered, her body was rigid, chest tightening as she anxiously awaited your answer. “I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking,” you grumbled, raising your head to glance up at her expectantly. Yunjin breathed out a heavy sigh, swallowing the bitter taste that clung to her tongue with a harsh gulp. “How do you feel around them?” She asked, brushing the hair out of your face with a gentle smile. “Excited.” You muttered, a grin unconsciously breaking out on your face. “Do you feel butterflies around them?” She questioned, voice strained as she stared down at you, painfully aware that the blush spreading across your cheeks wasn’t for her. “Nope,” you shook your head, brows furrowing in mild confusion. “I think I feel safe around them. They always make me feel calm, even just looking at them.” You spoke with a stupidly wide grin that made Yunjin’s heart ache in her chest.

“What else?” She asked, desperately trying to mask her growing disappointment. “They always look out for me and go out of their way to make sure I’m doing okay. It always makes my heart beat faster,” you admitted, unaware of the way Yunjin’s forehead creased as she frowned deeply. “And when they smile..” You paused, a grin spreading across your face at the mere thought. “It’s like the whole world lights up,” you mumbled dreamily. “I think you like them, Y/n,” Yunjin said, a bittersweet smile adorning her lips. “Oh.” Was all you managed to murmur, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happier,” she questioned, confusion spreading across her features.

“They don’t like me back anyway,” you huffed, dropping your head to her chest with a sigh. “They would be stupid not to,” Yunjin grits out, hand unconsciously travelling up to comb through your hair. “They’d be lucky to have you,” she declared, smiling as you whined in embarrassment. The older girl couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of jealousy that overcame her at the thought of you liking someone else. She didn’t ever want to let you go, she liked the way things were. Yunjin had never had a problem with just being friends in the past, but now that you liked someone, things were entirely different. You were never hers to claim, but there was always an unspoken agreement amongst those who knew you both, you were property of Huh Yunjin. 

You spent so much time together, joined at the hip and rarely found without her hands all over you. Hell, you even shared a bed every night, even when you had your own perfectly usable one. Your excuse was the nightmares, which you’d claimed never affected you in Yunjin’s secure hold. The older girl didn’t bother to question it, too overjoyed to have you crawl into her bed each night. You were always too caught up in each other to notice anyone else, so liking someone wasn’t something Yunjin was expecting. She didn’t dare think about the possibilities that could come of it, knowing she would only spiral further, which could result in her doing something rash she’d regret. Yunjin knew it was selfish, but she wanted to keep you to herself.

She couldn’t just let her most prized possession go without a fight.

~~ The atmosphere in the waiting room was unusually tense, all the members unusually silent as they eyed each other uneasily. Yunjin’s piercing gaze was trained on her lap where your hands lay intertwined, a possessive growl threatening to bubble from her lips every time someone so much as approached you. Your head rested lazily on her shoulder, eyes fluttered shut as you slept peacefully, Yunjin’s arm draped lazily around your waist as you curled into her side. She had clung to your side all day, sending anyone who dared to advance closer a deadly glare. You hadn’t complained, seemingly enjoying all the extra attention, but your members had suffered as a result. They were sentenced to an awkward standstill in fear of her wrath, knowing anyone who accidentally woke you would be in grave danger.

Yunjin’s ears perked up at the sound of a faint sound on the door, her lips twisting into a scowl as you began to stir. Eunchae jumped up from her seat, bounding towards the door with a cheery smile, praying that someone would save her from this madness. “Karina sunbaenim,” the youngest greeted their guest with a puzzled grin, brows furrowing in mild confusion. The leader of Aespa shifted her weight from one leg to another, hands clasped behind her back as she sent Eunchae a tight lipped smile, followed by a brief bow. “Uh, is Y/nnie here?” Karina questioned, glancing over Eunchae’s shoulder in search of you. The members' eyes naturally drifted to Yunjin, each sporting a more concerned look than the last as her forehead creased in a deep frown. 

Yunjin’s grip on you tightened significantly, fingertips unconsciously digging into your hip as she poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. The action had your eyes fluttering opened, a whine leaving your parted lips as you yawned sleepily, shifting in her hold. “There’s someone here for you Y/n unnie,” Eunchae called from the door. You blinked owlishly, glancing to the door where Jimin stood with a sheepish smile. Confusion was painted across your members' faces as your features lit up at the sight of Karina, each of them bewildered as they watched you jump up with an excited smile. As you began to stride towards Jimin, a gentle yet firm tug on the back of your shirt kept you from moving further. Perplexed, you whipped around to face Yunjin, brows furrowed and her lips jutted out in a pout as she stared up at you.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised with an assuring smile, reaching out to give her hand a gentle squeeze before slipping out of her grasp. Yunjin sighed in defeat as you skipped towards the door, watching as you beamed at the leader, a melodious laugh escaping your lips as she whispered something in your ear. The main vocalist found the corners of her mouth tugging upwards as careless chuckles bubbled from your pretty pink lips that she longed to kiss. Her features softened at the sight of your reddening cheeks, a shy smile gracing your face. She admired your every feature from afar with a fond smile, one that was replaced by a scowl the second she was reminded of Jimin’s presence by your side. Yunjin wasn’t the cause of your flushed cheeks or timid smile, her hands balled into fists at the thought.

Yunjin blinked in confusion as the door abruptly clicked shut, but it wasn’t quick enough for her to miss the way Jimin’s arm slung around your shoulder. She felt an unsettling feeling blooming in chest as it tightened uncomfortably, eyes narrowed at the closed door, willing it to open. “Yunjin-ah,” Chaewon muttered in concern, taking a seat beside her and giving the blonde a consoling pat on shoulder. Yunjin didn’t budge, not bothering to spare her leader a glance as she imagined all the things you and Jimin could possibly be doing behind the stupid door that kept her from admiring your beautiful face. She was vaguely aware of the way her nails dug into the skin of her palms, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, not when her mind was flooded with images of Jimin all over you.

Yunjin wasn’t even aware that she was holding her breath until you slipped back into the room, heaving a sigh of relief as you padded towards her. A breathless chuckle escaped her lips as you leaped into her arms, happily sitting on her lap upon noticing Chaewon had taken up your previous seat. “What did she want?” Yunjin grit out with a faux smile, struggling to suppress her evident displeasure. “Just to congratulate us,” you smiled, waving around the flowers Jimin had gifted you with a bright grin. The blonde clenched her jaw at the sight of your favourite flowers presented in a neatly arranged bouquet, rolling her eyes in irritation. “Wow, she must know you well, unnie. I didn’t even know you two were friends,” Eunchae muttered in disbelief upon closer inspection of the flowers.

“We ran into each other awhile ago and she asked for my number.” You explained with a sheepish smile, scratching the back of your neck. Yunjin’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into her body with an indignant huff. You looked down to her in confusion before shrugging uninterestedly and leaning into her compelling touch. She grinned triumphantly as you dropped the flowers on the couch to cling to her instead. “Unnie, I’m gonna go out tonight,” you informed Chaewon, earning a raised brow from the leader. “Jimin unnie asked me to dinner,” you explained, hiding your face in Yunjin’s chest upon hearing a chorus of cheers from your members. “Is it a date?” Sakura asked warily, eyes swirling with uncertainty. “No, I don’t think so at least,” you muttered unconvincingly, waving your hands frantically in refusal, but the blush that spread across your cheeks told Yunjin a different story.

She despised Yoo Jimin for having the courage to do what she couldn’t.

~~

Yunjin sat tiredly on the couch, impatiently tapping her foot on the floor as she awaited your presence. It had been hours since she’d watched you get all dressed up for the ‘friendly dinner’, as you’d called it, but you were still yet to return. A part of her wasn’t sure she wanted you to, it would mean this was real. You were on a date with Yoo Jimin, a successful idol that Yunjin was almost certain you had a crush on. No matter how much you denied it, the smile that spread across your face along with a blush whenever Jimin was mentioned made her think otherwise. Yunjin was too careless, she had foolishly hoped that you, along with everyone else, had seen your bizarre relations as more than just platonic. You were slipping through her fingers and into the arms of someone else far too fast for her liking.

She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, eyes dropping to the floor as a disappointed sigh escaped her lips. Her thoughts raced at a dangerously fast pace, each worse than the last as she anxiously gnawed on the inside of her cheek. Distracted by her painful realisations, Yunjin failed to notice the front door clicking open, gentle footfall on the creaky wooden floorboards falling deaf in her ears. “Yunjin unnie!” You cheered loudly, tipsily stumbling towards her hunched figure. Rising from the couch with furrowed brows, the older girl barely managed to catch you as you toppled into her. “You’re drunk,” the blonde stated observantly, noticing your flushed cheeks and the way you giggled unprompted. “I’m not,” you shook your head in protest, earning an unimpressed stare from Yunjin.

“Stay here,” Yunjin ordered, placing you down on the couch with a sigh. She darted towards the kitchen, filling up a glass of cold water before rushing back to you. “Drink this,” she commanded, a pout adorning your lips, but you slipped away obediently when she glared down at you. Clumsily handing her the empty glass, you let your head fall back against the cushions, struggling to keep your eyes opened. “Stay with me,” you pleaded, blindly reaching for her hand and missing by miles. This time she didn’t reach out to help you. “Please,” you hiccuped, sleepily curling into a ball. “Not tonight,” she whispered with a bittersweet smile adoring her lips, earning a drawn out whine from you. “Why?” You grumbled, forehead creased in a deep frown as your eyes fluttered shut. “Because I can’t be what you want me to be anymore,” she uttered upon hearing soft snores escaping your parted lips.

Yunjin didn’t want to be just a friend, she craved more, she wanted your heart.

~~

You eyed Yunjin from afar, bottom lips sucked between your teeth as you stared longingly after her. Gone was the girl who once clung to your side any chance she could get, replaced by one who refused to stay beside you for more than a minute. She was a shell of her former self, no more bright smiles and stupid jokes, only cold stares and rushed conversations. You longed to approach her with your entire being, but the walls that guarded her seemed impenetrable for someone she refused to engage with. A strange feeling of discomfort began to overwhelm you as the eyes that were once trained on all permanently now refused to spare your a glance. The one who once protected you from the harsh glares of the distasteful bunch was now the one sending them your way.

You couldn’t understand how someone could change everything about themselves in the span of a night. Perplexed by her abnormal behaviour, you anxiously picked at the skin of your fingers, mind clouded with nothing but thoughts of Yunjin. Without the older girl to lull you to sleep in her comforting hold as she sang you her latest composition, you were lost. Met with countless sleepless nights as a result of her avoidance, you found yourself seeking out the comfort she’d once given you elsewhere. Yunjin was no longer there to listen to your troubles, for she was now the cause. You wanted nothing more than to know what her reason was for avoiding you, why she insisted on staying away.

Yunjin was pushing you further into the arms of Yoo Jimin.

~~

A faint knock on Yunjin’s door had her yelling a muffled ‘come in,’ as she stared down at her notebook in frustration. Finger caught between her teeth, she tried desperately to form the right words for her song. Truth be told, she was lost without you as a muse, stuck in a state of self loathing. She hated herself for the decisions she’d made, every bone in her body willing her to take it all back. But she couldn’t, not when she’d justified her actions. It was her that was holding you back from happiness, it was the conclusion she’d come to that night. Scaring away any potential suitors was no longer an option, not if it cost your happiness. If Yoo Jimin was who you wanted, she would let you go. But she wasn’t strong enough to stick around and watch you fall in love with someone else, she couldn’t bring herself to do it for you, no matter how hard she tried.

“Unnie,” your gentle voice was like music to her ears, heart fluttering as she snapped her head up in surprise. She stared blankly at you, mouth agape you stood in her doorway, features glowing in the natural light. No matter how many times she set her gaze upon you, her stomach never failed to swarm with butterflies. Admiring your angelic features never got old, she would do it all day without fail, but she couldn’t, not anymore. Clearing her throat, Yunjin averted her gaze awkwardly, lips parting to speak. “What are you doing here?” Was all she managed to utter, sounding far harsher than she’d anticipated. “Why are you avoiding me?” You responded with question, refusing to back down under her cold gaze.

“I’m not,” she denied easily, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. “You’re gonna lie to me too?” You questioned incredulously, stepping closer to Yunjin who now rose to her feet. She huffed indignantly at the accusation, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “I don’t get what the big deal is,” she muttered, your brows sewn together in confusion. “Aren’t you hurting like I am?” You asked, a pained gaze meeting her eyes that swirled with unease. Yunjin tilted her head in puzzlement, forehead creasing in a frown. “I feel like I’m going insane all because I haven't spoken to you in days,” you admitted, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “Why does it matter? Can’t you just talk to Karina sunbaenim instead.” Yunjin muttered stubbornly, mind clouded by jealousy.

“Is that what you want?” You asked, gazing up to the older girl in disbelief. “It’s what you want,” Yunjin insisted, lips pursed. “Why do you get to be the one to decide that?” You grit out, stepping dangerously closer to the blonde, faces lingering mere inches apart. “I never said that was what I wanted,” you protested her claim, glaring at Yunjin with narrowed eyes. “Then what do you want?” She in exasperation, eyes dancing with irritation. “I want you! Not Jimin unnie, you idiot!” You yelled in frustration, blood running cold upon realising the words that you’d foolishly allowed to slip past your lips. “What?” Yunjin whispered in disbelief, voice lowering an octave. “It’s nothing, just forget I said anything,” you mumbled in embarrassment, taking a reluctant step backwards.

Your eyes widened as Yunjin’s hands darted out to grasp your hips, abruptly pulling you flush against her. “Say it again,” she ordered, a distant look in her eyes as they briefly flickered to your lips. Mouth parting in shock, you stared up at her, blinking owlishly. “Say it,” she growled, fingers digging into your hips as she tugged you impossibly closer. “I want you,” you whispered, cheeks flushed pink. As if you’d flipped a switch, Yunjin suddenly surged forwards, lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. Your body stiffened in her hold, muscles tense as you stood deathly still. When you didn’t kiss back quick enough for her liking, the older moved her lips against yours, tongue darting out to swipe across your lips. Sighing into the kiss as your eyes finally fluttered shut, Yunjin nudged her nose against yours with a chuckle.

“You want me,” she uttered with a pleased smile upon leaning back to catch her breath. “I don’t know why you ever thought otherwise,” you mumbled breathlessly in disbelief, forehead pressed to hers. “I’ve only ever wanted you,” you confessed, chest rising and falling steadily. “No one else?” Yunjin questioned, wanting to rid herself of all those baseless insecurities. “No one else,” you assured, reaching up to cup her cheeks, caressing them with the pads of your thumbs. “Not even Jimin unnie,” you mumbled, a possessive growl leaving her lips at the mention of Aespa’s leader, grip on your hips tightening. You grinned fondly, leaning up to peck her mouth. She chased your lips with an eager grin, eyes crinkling into crescents at the sound of your melodious laughter.

“These are mine,” she muttered with a possessive growl, hand travelling up to swipe her thumb over your glossy lips. You smiled bashfully, a blush dusting your cheeks. “You’re cute when you blush,” Yunjin muttered, admiring your features with an appreciative smile. She would never stop loving you until the day she died, not when you’d so graciously handed over the keys to your heart. Now that you were hers, she vowed to never let you go. “You know, I always thought we were kinda already a couple,” you mumbled thoughtfully into the darkness, now wrapped in her arms as you lay sleepily in bed. Yunjin hummed lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head. “I thought so too, then you told me you liked someone..” she trailed off, the words leaving a bitter taste on her tongue. “It was you, idiot.” You mumbled, shaking your head in amusement as she groaned in annoyance, arms tugging your impossibly closer.

Huh Yunjin learnt that you were just as much her possession as she was yours.

this was messy, all over the place and super bad...

edit: i lied this is the shit right here

[soylent-crocodile]

Vizzerdrix (Monster)

(Vizzerdrix by Dave Dorman)

(Behold, a late Easter AND an April Fool's Day special, all wrapped up in one not-so-fluffy bunny! I wanted to capture the idea of a puzzlingly high-value creature with no special effects and not as much combat capability as its peers, so I went with a mad genius. There's also just a couple of tropes here that I tend to avoid- or lean on- if you can spot them. Enjoy!)

CR16 CE Large Aberration HD25

Vizzerdrix are savage beings created by a mad wizard, ravenous beasts who tear apart any who meet their path. It is generally accepted that the vizzerdrix were the last creation of said wizard before being torn apart by vizzerdrix. Unfortunately for the world, her creations bred true, and now vizzerdrix can be found leaving swathes of blood and death in their path. 

A vizzerdrix is a hybrid between a rabbit, a giant, and a piranha, creating a being with incredible intelligence, sharp claws, a craving for destruction and flesh, and big floppy rabbit ears. Vizzerdrix are among the most brilliant beings to exist, and use this to their advantage- they’re expert at evaluating threats, manipulating others, and devising cunning traps. Fortunately for a vizzerdrix’s enemies, they lack any particular abilities to put this brilliance to use, and without external help or tools, must fall back on ripping and tearing. This isn’t to say that a vizzerdrix has distaste for such combat- indeed, tearing other beings apart with their claws and incisors is the deepest pleasure a vizzerdrix can experience, and all their goals and conniving generally works to the end of getting a vizzerdrix a never-ending source of innocent victims to destroy. 

Vizzerdrix are obligate carnivores, only able to digest animal flesh. Despite this, they have a deep craving for root vegetables, which give them incredible indigestion and, occasionally, food poisoning and intense gastric distress. It is suspected that this was a failsafe created by their master and the reason to include rabbit parts, as vizzerdrix will do anything for proper digestive aids that allow them to comfortably eat their favorite food. 

This hulking, clawed beast has powerful human musculature, furless skin, and the head of an angry rabbit. Misc- CR16 CE Large Aberration HD25 Init:+8 Senses: Perception +27 Darkvision 60ft Stats- Str:28(+9) Dex:18(+4) Con:18(+4) Int:32(+11) Wis:9(-1) Cha:20(+5) BAB:+18/+13/+8/+3 Space:10ft Reach:10ft Defense- HP: AC:30(+4 Dexterity, +17 Deflection, -1 Size) Fort:+14 Ref:+12 Will:+17 CMD:39 Resist: Acid 20, Cold 20, Electricity 20, Fire 20 Immunity: Fear Special Defenses: DR5/Adamantine Offense- Bite +24(2d6+9), 2 Claw +25(1d8+9) CMB:+25 Speed:40ft Special Attacks: Rend (2 Claw, 2d8+14) Feats- Improved Initiative, Power Attack (-5/+10), Weapon Focus (Claw), Iron Will, Great Fortitude, Vital Strike, Combat Expertise, Improved Dirty Trick, Improved Disarm, Improved Trip, Greater Dirty Trick, Critical Focus Skills- Acrobatics +27, Climb +17, Escape Artist +32, Knowledge (Arcana, Dungeoneering, Engineering, Geography, Nature, Planes, Religion) +26, Knowledge (Local)* +29, Perception +27, Sense Motive +24, Spellcraft +39, Stealth +32, Survival +27, Swim +17, Use Magic Device +30 Spell-like Abilities- (Caster Level 20, Concentration +25) Dispel Magic /at-will Special Qualities- Ferocity Ecology- Environment- Forests, Swamps (Any) Languages- Common, Aklo, Abyssal, Draconic, Giant Organization- Solitary Treasure- None

[vandaliatraveler]

Update on the native wildflower shade garden . . .

Since my last post about the sharp-lobed hepatica several weeks ago, the wildflowers in the shade garden have made a significant push. All of the live plants I put in the ground last fall have made it through the winter, and many of the seeds I planted have germinated and sprouted. Quick survey:

Top: the spreading Jacob's ladder (Polemonium reptans) is mounding beautifully and positively dripping with violet-blue, bell-shaped flowers. The plant lures many pollinators, including bees, flies, butterflies, moths, and beetles. And that foliage is so lush and green . . .

Next one: woodland stonecrop (Sedum ternatum) has established itself in the nooks and crannies of one of my rock features and is getting ready to bloom.

Next two: although the sharp-lobed hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba) has nearly finished blooming, the real joy starts for me when the leathery, thrice-lobed leaves with their often deeply-variegated patterns begin to unfold. This is flat-out one of the most unique and gorgeous wildflowers of North America.

Next one: creeping woodland phlox (Phlox stolonifera) makes for an enchanting ground cover and will spread quite rapidly in the right conditions. I have strong feelings for all the native phlox species, but this one has stolen my heart. It's native to a narrow strip of the Appalachian Mountains from Georgia to Pennsylvania. In the spring around here, it absolutely lights up streambanks with its dainty pink to rose-colored flowers.

Next one: dwarf-crested iris (Iris cristata) is another lovely groundcover but beware - it spreads like wildfire. The lavender and yellow to orange-crested flowers are a treasure to behold from late April to early May. And its arrow-like foliage provides much-needed contrast in the garden.

Next: among the seeds I planted, the yellow pimpernel (Taenidia integerrima) is making the strongest push. The plant produces yellow-flowered umbels similar to golden Alexanders and is a high-value nectar source for many pollinators. It's also the host plant for the black swallowtail and Ozark swallowtail butterflies.

Next two: anyone who visits this Tumblr regularly needs no introduction to heartleaf foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia), my unofficial poster child for Appalachian spring. I simply would not have a native wildflower garden without it. One of my foamflowers is a hybrid (sugar and spice) cultivated for its deeply dissected leaves and intense variegation.

Last (but not least): my eastern red columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) pretty much takes cares of itself - it's one of the best starter wildflowers for beginner gardeners, hardy and undemanding. But man, does it produce loads of beautiful red and yellow, bell-shaped flowers.

[rosie-zia]

Luca Kaneshiro x Reader

A/n: I looked into Tumblr and saw that I got a lot of notes in my latest Luca fanfic, so I decided to write a drabble in addition to that story. Thank you so much for reading my work! Ilysm guys! Word count: o.6k+ words

“The value of an object can only be defined in the beholder’s eyes.”

Every little thing has a worth of its own, and people have certain perceptions through their belongings. Some would look into objects based on its purpose while others see their things in a symbolic way as a lucky charm, something to be passed down, or to be treated with great care. Once it has worn out, people tend to replace it since nothing in this world is permanent and most things do break in their own time... but there is always that one thing we keep it close in our hearts.

For Luca Kaneshiro, he holds so many luxuries one could possibly imagine. From his wealth, status, and style he carries as a mafia boss, only his men know how much stacks of cash are spent everyday. He owns so much, and yet he will always cherish one thing in his life.

If you will observe Luca closely, he wears a noticeable shimmering gold ring by his thumb, giving it a nice contrast to his black ink gloves. His men and all of the other mafia bosses would simply look at it like it’s an ordinary ring nonetheless. Most dons he would meet will wear countless chains on their necks and rings worn on each finger, entitled with the wealth they own and flaunting it like no tomorrow.

Guilty as charged, the head of the Kaneshiro mafia himself also has an affinity to wear gold jewelry, so they really assumed that it was just an ordinary ring. But little did they know the true value it holds for the true owner himself. That small golden band is actually his wedding ring representing his unbreakable marriage to you.

In every meeting and gathering with all other mafias, he has to wear his wedding ring on his thumb to not show any unnecessary feelings that should not be involved in the mafia. Even though he acknowledges the fact that you have the abilities as the daughter of a previous powerful and all-mighty mafia boss, Luca always felt the need to protect you from the lingering gazes from the lustful men who always seek physical pleasure. His possessiveness and overprotectiveness was something you overlook as you feel Luca holding you closer, but in reality, he was already giving death stares to every man who dared to look in your direction.

Whenever he's bored in his office, his eyes will simply linger on his ring and gently rub it as a sign of reassuring himself that you are safe, and nothing so far has happened to you. Luca did it just one time and continuously did it until it became a small habit to stare at the ring's engraving "Luca & Y/N Kaneshiro" along with the date of your wedding. Out of all the rings and treasures he currently possesses, Luca swore to keep his wedding ring as if it is the most precious thing in the world. His view on the subject of love was business at first, but he finally saw the beauty in marriage after the love between you two strengthened after celebrating your first wedding anniversary. You can bet he would tear the whole house down in devastation if he ever lost his ring.

In light of this, all of this certainly made it clear how much your husband loves you in subtle ways. Luca may be closed off outside with a cold demeanor on his face, but he'll show his vulnerable side to you and only you as he places the ring back to the fourth finger on his left hand where it truly fits.

There are times when your husband comes home, and he sees you suddenly get insecure. It never fails to break Luca’s heart every time he sees you doubting yourself. He will always feel like he never showed you how much he loves you. Luca exactly knows how to cheer you up by walking up from behind and placing his hands by your hips while whispering sweet nothings close to your ear.

“In my eyes, you are worth so much more.”

————————————————————————————————————————

A/n: Thank you for reading one of my works again. It was really fun going back to writing again. Sadly, I might get too busy again in the future because of school, but I'll try and balance things. As my school starts, you can send me anything. Maybe a writing prompt/idea for any boys in Luxiem, and I'll see what I can do. Thank you so much for your support! See you in my next work! ^^

[chickenkupo]

Giving y'all a little something stuck in my head before I head out to a friendo gathering tonight. Also typing this on my phone so, thoughts and prayers for us all.

Comfort Care

Summary: After handling the incident with the Beret Society, Wriothesley begins to doubt his self-worth. His lovely partner offers him a moment of reprieve to remind him of his true value.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, mentions of trauma. Very light mention, though. I’m also not going to include spoilers other than mention of the Beret’s. That’s about it, surprisingly. I’m currently idle in Fontaine listening to the background music and this came to mind.

The bright blue sky was all he could behold as his head was resting in Neuvillette’s lap, the sun shining down on him and adding to the warmth that his lover’s lap also provided for him. A zephyr breezed by, and he could hear the trees in the distance, their leaves following the motions of the wind and offered a subtle shifting noise that brought him a wide sense of peace.

He then felt a gloved hand petting softly through his untamed hair, light scratches being provided as well as a soft pressure in a rhythmic motion. The more the ministrations continued, the more his thoughts seemed to slow, coming to a complete pause as he was consumed by the sensations. He shut his eyes, sighing deeply and began to feel himself drift away into an uncommon state of peace.

Archons, when was the last time since he was able to lay down and actually rest like this? Long before he was sentenced to the Fortress, which seemed like ancient history to him now.

“Wriothesley, though I admire you for your fortitude and discipline, I must say in some areas, you are certainly still lacking.” His lover said, hands continue to pet him and keeping him in his trance. Taking his words into consideration, Wriothesley frowned as he was about to reply, but was cut off.

“I know you will fight me tooth and nail about this, which is why I’m denying you the right for retaliation. You do not offer to me substantial proof that your character is lacking in any sort of fashion. Evidence submitted to me through observations, testimonies and the full known reputation of the Fortress shows how valued you are in Fontaine. You are called ‘Your Grace’ for many reasons, my soul, and none are of any negative factors.”

Wriothesley felt a shifting of weight below him, Neuvillette’s legs adjusting. He then felt a light pressure on his lips, causing him to open his steel-blue eyes in surprise, to take in the view. Neuvillette had leaned over to provide a soft, loving kiss, his white hair flowing around the two of them, like a light blanket of white rain.

Never in Wriothesley’s life had he felt so cared for, treasured like a fine gem that was found in the roughest pits. The scars of his past literally littered his body, haunting memories flooding through his thoughts at almost every waking hour. But now, that seemed all so distant. Lately all he could think about was this man and their future together. His heart swelled with happiness as he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss. He raised one of his hands, twirling the white hair on one of his fingers, feeling how soft it was.

They continued to share the kiss for a few moments more, until he felt Neuvillette pull away. Wriothesley was about to pout, until his partner continued to share more words with him.

“Wriothesley, I want you to understand that for as long as you allow me, I will do what I can with the powers within me to provide the life you were so easily denied. You will want for nothing. My love for you will never falter, I will support you however I can. Say the words, and it is yours.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the two of them as Wriothesley pondered his words, Neuvillette allowing him as much time as he needed. The Chief Justice knew that the Duke was not used to such affection, but the fact that Wriothesley had not physically attacked him or verbally denied him meant it took root, and was accepted. This made Neuvillette smile.

“Well if you’re not going to deny me anything, could ya maybe start back with the head scratches?”

Neuvillette swore if Wriothesley had a tail, it would be wagging like the happiest of dogs right now.

[pastorelpa]

Jeremiah 1:4-8

You know me

Dear Father, help me to rest in Your love and calling on my life. To help me know that You care for me intimately as You shape me for each of the days You have planned for me. Thank You for Your guidance, strength and support on this journey, for I know the journey is not supposed to be easy. You know my heart is true and pure as I know You are there with me every step of the way.

Then the word of the Lord came unto me, saying, Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations. Then said I, Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child. But the Lord said unto me, Say not, I am a child: for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. Be not afraid of their faces: for I am with thee to deliver thee, saith the Lord. (Jeremiah 1:4-8)

The Lord knew you, sanctified you and purposed you before you were formed in the womb. Your life is part of the Lord’s meticulous plan. God reassures you that your calling is grounded in divine authority and presence, not in personal ability. Our perceived inadequacies are opportunities for God's strength to manifest. God emphasises that what matters is our availability and faith in Him. We have an unique role in God’s kingdom, called to witness and act with His love in our daily lives. By listening to and obeying His call, we overcome fears and doubts, trusting in His promise. God's silence does not mean His absence, for He is always near, guiding us with wisdom and care toward His good plans for our lives.

These verses are a treasure trove of divine assurance and personal challenge. They speak not only to Jeremiah’s unique mission but also to the universal call God extends to each of us. There is a truth revealed to Jeremiah that is both humbling and empowering, "Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.". Before Jeremiah was conceived, God already knew him and had a plan for him. This knowledge is not mere awareness but an intimate, purposeful relationship. God’s foreknowledge encompasses His sanctification and ordination of Jeremiah. This means that Jeremiah’s life was not an accident, it was a divinely orchestrated mission. In the same way, each of us is known by God before we are formed, each of our lives was intentionally created. Our lives have purpose and meaning, rooted in the Lord’s plan. In a world where identity and purpose are often sought in transient things, God offers us an unshakeable foundation. We are known, sanctified, and purposed by Him. This should fill us with a deep sense of value and responsibility.

Jeremiah’s initial response is one of hesitation and humility, "Then said I, Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child.". He sees his youth and inexperience as obstacles. How many times have we, too, felt inadequate or unqualified for the tasks God sets before us? We might say, "I am not ready," or "I am not good enough.". But Jeremiah’s humility also reflects a teachable spirit, an openness to God’s transforming work. God's response to Jeremiah is both a command and a promise. "Say not, I am a child.". God does not deny Jeremiah's youth but redirects his focus from his limitations to God’s sovereignty. It is not about Jeremiah’s ability but God’s authority and presence. God assures Jeremiah that He will send him and give him the words to speak. The Lord will guide him. He gives him the promise of divine presence, "I am with thee to deliver thee". It is the ultimate assurance. He will not be alone on this journey.

God's call often comes with challenges, and His assignments might seem daunting. But God equips those He calls. He transforms our weaknesses into strengths through His power. Our inadequacies become opportunities for God’s glory to shine through. Just like with Moses, who claimed he was slow of speech, yet God used him to lead Israel out of Egypt. Think of the disciples, who were ordinary men, called to an extraordinary mission. The Bible is replete with examples of God using the seemingly unqualified to accomplish His purposes. What matters is not our ability but our availability to have faith in the Lord. Because, God’s call is not limited to prophets or pastors. Each of us has a unique role in His kingdom. Whether it is in our families, workplaces, or communities, God is calling us to be His witnesses, to speak His truth, to act with His love. To follow God’s call, we must cultivate a heart that listens and obeys. We must overcome our fears and doubts, trusting in His promise: "Be not afraid, for I am with thee."

We should have the courage to respond to God’s call with faith and obedience, knowing that He who calls us is faithful. Let us embrace our divine purpose, trusting that He who began a good work in us will carry it on to completion. May we, like Jeremiah, rise to the call, confident not in our own strength but in the unwavering presence of our God.

Amen

With love, Pastor Elpa

[bruggle]

Behold, another One-shot for @absolutely-normal-about-x 's Legends Reborn AU. So uh... enjoy!

Halcyon

X marks the spot, right? At least, that's how it usually works in the movies. Volnutt had noticed strange markings on the wall within a random set of ruins last time he had been there, now it was time to see if the saying was true!

...Hopefully he doesn't regret it...

Words: 4,736

"Breathe, it's over now, over now

We can love, we can love

We can love, we can love

And the birds will sing our song in Halcyon"

Roll had not been happy.

-Halcyon, The Paper Kites

  She had been set up to leave for the next prospective dig site when Volnutt returned from the ruins, but… he had been… reluctant to leave. There was something off about this set; something that had tugged at him. While he had been exploring, he had come across a strange set of markings on one of the walls. It… well, it had looked like a series of ‘x’s. None of the other walls had looked like that. And it wasn’t so decorative that Volnutt could just pass it off as just the previous owners weird design choice. No, it looked… deliberate. Intentional. So he had begged and begged his adoptive sister to let him have just one more day to look through the ruins.

  She hadn’t been happy, of course. Time was money in this business, after all. There were only so many relics that could be uncovered. And they all had to eat somehow! But… something about those markings on the wall… he just… he couldn’t stop thinking about them. What did they mean? Sure, ‘x’ had often marked the spot of treasure in stories and movies, but this was real life! Surely nobody did that of their own volition, right? It’d be too easy for people to figure out where you kept your valuables. So… why would anyone do that?

  In any case, Volnutt would be figuring that out today. As he geared up to head back into the ruins, Roll had called out to him. “Hey, if you’re going to go,” she started. “I suggest you hurry up. I can see the Bonne’s ship coming in.” Volnutt froze for a second. “What?!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, I guess they were following us or something,” replied Roll. “’Cuz they’re heading this way.” Volnutt groaned as he rolled his eyes. This was definitely something he didn’t need.

  “You got this?” he checked with Roll.

  “Oh please,” she grinned. “If they try boarding the Flutter, they’re going to have a hard time even catching her. I’ve been putting a lot of work into this baby!”

  Volnutt chuckled as he slipped on the last of his Digger gear. “Just be careful,” he cautioned. “Hey, you too,” Roll said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go and find your weird thing.” And with that, Volnutt made his way back into the depths of the ruins.

 

 

  Upon making his way back to the room that had the strange walls, Volnutt noticed this time there were… well… lots of floating lights hanging around. They hadn’t been here yesterday… He was immediately cautious, remembering tales from other Diggers talking about these things. ‘Spirits’, they had called them. There were a lot of conflicting information about them; some Diggers claimed that they were a life-saver, helping lost people find their way out of ruins. Others claimed that they were a death sentence; trickster beings that would destroy anything remotely electronic however it suited them, leaving Diggers lost and with no way to contact for help. Perhaps it just depended on the Spirit themselves.

  Either way, Volnutt didn’t want to have to contend with them as well as the Bonne’s. But.. they were swarming all over the wall! Right where he needed to be! Well, if anything, this proved that there had to be something of value here. …Hopefully. While Volnutt was struggling to figure out how exactly to either slip past or… lure the Spirits away, he didn’t notice a couple of the orbs of light slowly beginning to dance around his head. The sudden crackle of static from his coms quickly made him aware of his situation, however. Letting out a yelp of surprise, he quickly backed up. “H-hey,” he nervously greeted. “Uh… I don’t know if you can understand me, but uh… c-could you please go somewhere else?” The Spirits either couldn’t understand him, or were simply choosing to ignore him, as they continued to dance around him. This… probably wasn’t good. Suddenly, Volnutt noticed a much larger orb of light slowly beginning to drift towards him. Ah. Great. Just what he needed.

  Much to his surprise, however, the smaller Spirits began to drift away from him. Maybe there was a hierarchy? Who knew. Spirits were weird from what he understood. As Volnutt watched it, trying to figure out what it wanted, he noticed that it was slowly moving in a pattern. A sort of ‘come here’ movement. Did it think he was lost? While Volnutt appreciated the gesture, he knew exactly where he was. “Oh, I’m not lost,” he assured the Spirit. “Just… trying to figure out what’s with this wall.” With that, he moved closer to the ‘x’s, gently putting his hand to one of them. Looking closer, he noticed that there was a barely noticeable gap. Was.. was this a door? Volnutt looked around for a way to open it, but… there was… nothing. A couple of the smaller orbs began dancing around him again, but he really wasn’t worried about the Spirits anymore; all of the smaller ones seemed to be less inclined to mess with him now that the larger one was nearby.

  The orb didn’t seem too happy with being ignored, however. As now, it was repeating it’s movements much faster. Volnutt watched it curiously; it didn’t seem to be trying to lead him out, he realized. If anything, it seemed to be trying to lead him further in. That… could probably be dangerous. Again, these things weren’t always the most benevolent.

  A sudden crash made Volnutt aware that he was no longer alone.

  Sighing, he really didn’t want to deal with all three Bonne’s right now. One was enough of a handful, thank you very much. Turning his attention back to the large orb, he made up his mind. This was most likely a bad decision, but hey. He had made plenty of those. And it had turned out alright so far! Volnutt just had to hope his luck lasted just a little longer. “Please don’t lead me into a trap,” he quietly pleaded to the Spirit as he carefully began to follow it. The orb seemed to glow just a little brighter, as if pleased by his decision.

 

 

  Following the orb, Volnutt was lead to a corridor he hadn’t noticed on his first go through. Granted, he had solely been focused on finding Relics; but it still made him slightly embarrassed to have realized exactly how much of the ruins he had missed. Oh well. Oddly enough, there was a low hum of electricity running through this area. That was… strange. Very few ruins ever had any sort of energy running through them. Volnutt briefly wondered about the reason; in his experience, any sort of electricity meant there would be a bunch of reaverbots. But, there would also be a much better Relic to take home.

  He hoped he wouldn’t have to fight a bunch…

  Was that what this Spirit was leading him to?

  In any case, the ball of light seemed to get more and more excited as they made their way through the hallway; zipping around his head, it would dance around further in front of him then return as though to make sure he was still following. It was rather funny, but Volnutt still wasn’t sure how much he could trust it. Eventually, they came upon a large room. In the center, was a large monitor. The Spirit lead him further inside, right up to the device.

  It seemed old (what else was new), and a good layer of dust covered everything. Volnutt wasn’t super familiar with Old World technology, but the few computers he had come across certainly didn’t look anything like this. For one, it didn’t look like there was any sort of keyboard. Is… is this what the Spirit wanted him to see? “Do you… want me to turn it on?” Volnutt hesitantly asked. He still didn’t know if they understood people; and even if they did, how would he understand it back? Well, now he felt a little silly for asking it. The orb didn’t seem too bothered though, as it danced around a spot under the monitor. It then moved back over to his right hand, enveloping it within it’s light. “…You want me to touch it?” Volnutt questioned. The Spirit glowed brighter. Huh. Guess that answers that.

  Shrugging, Volnutt hesitantly reached out to the spot the Spirit had been dancing around. He still wasn’t entirely sure about this, (for all he knew, this could be activating a ton of reaverbots!) but… something compelled him to listen to it. His instincts hadn’t lead him wrong so far, so… he’d probably be fine, right? Carefully, slowly, Volnutt gently placed his hand against the place pointed out to him.

  And his hand was sucked into the machinery.

  Ah.

  And… now the Spirit was abandoning him. Great.

  “Hey, get back here!” Volnutt exclaimed, slightly panicking. The orb merely ignored him as the monitor came to life.

  DNA SEQUENCING: BEGIN it read.

  Wait, what?

  A sudden pain in his stuck hand made Volnutt cry out. What was going on?! The machine then let go of his hand, allowing Volnutt to pull it back as quickly as he could. He looked over the damage; it wasn’t as bad as it had felt, thank goodness. Just a small cut that had somehow made it past all of his armor (he really did not want to see what was able to cause that!) Glancing back up at the monitor, Volnutt noticed that it now read something else.

SEQUENCING COMPLETE

POSITIVE MATCH

  …Positive match for what?

BEGIN RELEASE PROTOCOL

  Oh no. Oh no no no no. Volnutt began to panic. Anything being released in any sort of ruins was never a good sign. Well, worse comes to worse, he could always lead whatever it is to the Bonne’s…

  No, that’d be too mean.

ERROR: INSUFICIENT POWER

  Oh thank goodness. Volnutt let out a sigh of relief. He was done with this place. Whatever kind of secrets this place held, it was not worth the heart attack he just went through. As he turned to leave, however, the monitor showed one more message:

ACTIVATING EMERGENCY REROUTING

  Oh crap.

  The room went completely dark; Volnutt couldn’t see anything. He was pretty sure that if he tried waving his hand in front of his face, he wouldn’t even be able to see that. As he raked his brain to try and figure out how the heck he was going to get out of here with no way to see, a sudden light stung his eyes. Oh, his Spirit friend hadn’t abandoned him. “Well now look what you did,” Volnutt grumbled at it. The orb seemed to dim itself in something of an apology, before slowly moving towards the exit. Muttering to himself, Volnutt quickly followed after it. He really did not feel like being stuck here, thank you very much. While following the Spirit is what lead him into this mess in the first place, it was also his only source of light at the moment.

  Whatever the ruins were trying to release, he did not want to be caught by it in the dark.

  The Spirit quickly led Volnutt back through the ruins, where holes in the roof were more plentiful. This set his nerves more at ease; he’d really rather not have to fight something by the pitiful light of the Spirit. As they re-entered the room that held the ‘x’s, Volnutt was met by a sight that made his heart sink.

  The Bonne’s were currently bickering amongst themselves. Well, Tiesel and Tron were. Bon was currently sitting off in the corner, playing with some of the rubble. As he watched them, he noticed his Spirit slowly fade out of sight. Huh. Maybe it figured it was done here? Guess he was going to be dealing with the Bonne’s alone. “I’m telling you,” Tiesel was objecting. “I didn’t touch anything!”

  “Then why did that wall start glowing?!” Tron argued. Volnutt glanced over to the aforementioned wall, seeing that all the markings were, in fact, glowing. “I don’t know!” Tiesel exclaimed. “Why don’t you ask him?” Tron turned in her mech, finally noticing Volnutt standing in the doorway. Great. “YOU,” she fumed. “What did you do, Mega-dork?!” Sighing, Volnutt debated on how much (if any) he should tell them. “Well,” he started. “I uh… I followed a Spirit-“

  “You followed a Spirit?!” Tiesel interjected. “Are you an idiot?!”

  Volnutt let out an audible gulp, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. “I know, I know,” he said. “But… It was pretty persistent!”

  “Well yeah,” deadpanned Tron. “They like causing trouble! Geez, what is this, your first dig?”

  Volnutt let out a groan. He really shouldn’t have said anything. “Look, it lead me to this room with a computer,” he explained. “And… It like… took a blood sample or something. Said I was a match.”

  “A match for what?” Tiesel asked, quirking a brow. Volnutt shrugged. “No idea,” he grumbled. “It just… said ‘activating release protocol’.” The two Bonne’s let out a loud, exaggerated groan. “Are you kidding me, Mega-dork?!” the middle Bonne exasperated. “Again, is this your first dig?” Volnutt rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he muttered. Tron let a loud sigh, before turning to the wall. “Well, if it’s a ‘you’ thing,” she said, gesturing to the markings. “Then you deal with it. But we get half the loot just for dealing with your dumbness.”

  “What?!” Volnutt exclaimed. “No way! You chose to come into these ruins on your own!”

  “Yeah, and it’s a good thing we did,” Tiesel retorted. “You could have easily gotten yourself killed!”

  “Babuu!” Bon interjected. Volnutt gave him a withering glare. “Not helping,” he grumbled. Whatever. Letting out a long sigh, Volnutt made his way to the closest ‘x’. There wasn’t anything that gave away what could possibly be behind the door; but the low, red light was promising. While he still had no real idea on how to open it (there wasn’t any sort of handle!), Volnutt gently let his hand rest against it.

  And with that, the door opened.

  Volnutt stepped back with a yelp, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that! He heard Tron snickering behind him, and turned to give her a slight glare. All four carbons curiously looked into the now opened compartment. It was hard to make out what was inside for a second due to the lighting, but as their eyes adjusted, Volnutt could make out the form of a person.

  An incredibly tall person, but a person nonetheless. He was dressed in a bulky sort of red armor, and seemed to have red scales littering his body from what exposed skin Volnutt could see, and were… were those horns? “…What the heck?” Tiesel muttered. With that, the sealed carbon slowly opened his eyes. “…The heck are you?” the unknown figure demanded. “Could ask you the same thing,” Tron snorted. The strangers’ eyes narrowed. “I suggest you watch your tone,” he growled. The middle Bonne scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Oh please,” she sniffed. “Is that any way to talk to the people who woke you up? Who knows how long you’ve been in there! Talk about ungrateful!”

  “Tron!” Volnutt hissed. “Would you please stop?” The strangers eyes settled on him, making him freeze up a bit. (Cut him some slack! This guy is intimidating!) There was a perplexed look to him; but he quickly shook his head, refocusing on Tron yet again. “You think I couldn’t bust myself out of here?” the stranger snarled, stepping out of the container that had sealed him in. “If you could, then why didn’t you?” she challenged. Oh. Oh no. Volnutt had a feeling this was going to end in a fight. With a roar, the tall figure leapt at the middle Bonne.

  “Babuu!”

 Bon intercepted the figure, punching him in the gut. Whatever inertia the guy had, was now sending him hurtling off to the side. “Take care of him Bon,” Tron ordered, a bored tone to her voice. “I’m gonna see if there’s anything interesting in the rest of these.”

  “WHY YOU LITTLE-“

  Part of Volnutt wanted to try to defuse the situation, there really was no need for any of this! And what if Bon got hurt?! This guy seemed like a real threat! “C’mon, Mega-dork,” Tron called to him. “I’m pretty sure you gotta be the one to open these if it needed your blood. Tiesel will make sure nothing happens.” He hesitated, but… he was curious about what was in the rest of these… What if it was more people? They needed to get them out of there, if that were the case!

  Reluctantly, Volnutt followed after the girl. Making their way to the second ‘x’, Tron made a grand gesture at it. “After you, Mega-dweeb,” she teased. Volnutt gave her a disparaging glance, but obediently pressed his hand against it. This one too, opened up; and inside was yet another person. This one was much shorter than the previous guy, and was sporting a sort of loose, green tunic. The most noticeable feature about him, however, was the fact that he had wings instead of arms. What were these people?! Volnutt started to have some doubts; what if these guys were sealed for a reason?

  The second figure slowly began opening his eyes, an absolutely bewildered look forming on his face as he took in the sight of Volnutt. “Master… X?” he whispered. “No… it couldn’t be… you’re too young…” That… didn’t make Volnutt feel any better. “HEY HARPUIA!” the first stranger yelled out. “GET YOUR ASS IN GEAR AND HELP ME OUT!” ‘Harpuia’, as he had been introduced, immediately turned to the first. “Fefnir, what the hell did you get yourself into now?!” he snapped. “JUST HELP ME ALREADY!” ‘Fefnir’ argued. With a groan, the green clad carbon jumped out of his container and made his way to where the two were fighting. “Should we help Bon?” asked Volnutt. “Nah,” Tron stated nonchalantly. “He’s got it.”

  With that, a sudden explosion rocked the ruins.

  Ah. He had bombs. Of course he did.

  “Well, onto the next one,” stated Tron, turning her mech to the next door. “Wait, Tron!” Volnutt pleaded. "Are you sure this is a good idea?! What if these guys are dangerous?!” She glanced down at him. “If they can’t even take Bon, they can’t be that dangerous,” the middle Bonne insisted. “Besides, didn’t you hear that guy? You look like someone they know. Aren’t you curious?” He was, but… Volnutt also knew better than to just blindly open things! Anyone called ‘master’ probably wasn’t a good guy if all the stories he read were to be believed, after all!

  “But-“

  “Look, do you want to see what’s behind the doors or not?”

  Volnutt looked down at the ground, but slowly walked closer to the third door. “That’s what I thought,” Tron smugly said. “Now open it!” Sighing, Volnutt slowly pressed his hand against the third door. This one also revealed a person; surprisingly a girl! She had long, grey hair with blue streaks, and a sleek, blue set of armor. This one looked by far the most normal, but… Volnutt wasn’t holding his breath. As the blue clad stranger opened her eyes, she let out an enormous yawn and- ope. Yep. There it is. She had shark-like teeth. "Dang, how long have I been out?” she muttered, wiping at her eyes. “Oh hello, who are you two?” Volnutt opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short by a squawk from the side. Harpuia had been tossed back into the container he had come out of. “Holy shit, was that Harpuia?” the third stranger chuckled as she leaned out in order to get a better look. “Leviathan, if you ever bring this up again, I am going to kill you,” the green clad carbon hissed, stepping out of the door again. ‘Leviathan’ merely let out a laugh at that. “What did you boys get yourself into?” she teased. “JUST HELP US, WOULD YOU?!” Fefnir roared, before he was easily chucked halfway across the room by Bon. “Babuu!” the toddler happily cried.

  “Men,” Leviathan sighed, sending a wink at Tron. “What would they do without us?” And with that, she joined the fray. Volnutt watched as she effortlessly began dodging around Bon’s punches. It was almost as if she were dancing, rather than fighting. “Hey, Mega-dork,” Tron called, pulling him from his musing. “We still got two more doors to go.” Right. Volnutt let out short breath as he followed Tron to the second to last door. Upon opening it, they were greeted by yet another carbon. He was clad in sleek, purple armor, and had pitch black hair. As he opened his eyes, Volnutt noticed they were rather cat like in appearance. The stranger gave them a skeptical look, before looking out to see the other three fighting with Bon. He merely raised a brow at that. “So uh… who are you?” Volnutt tentatively asked. “Phantom,” the fourth stranger replied. “Gonna join the party?” Tron smirked. ‘Phantom’ as he called himself, gave her a smug look. “Nah,” he said, waving his hand (wait, why did they look like cat paws?!) “But I should have brought popcorn.”

  “PHANTOM, YOU BITCH,” Fefnir yelled, taking yet another hit from Bon. The purple clad carbon simply laughed.

  In any case, there was one more door left. Volnutt quickly dodged around Tron, pressing his hand against it.

  Inside was a much older man.

  His hair was long. Like, ridiculously long. It was a similar shade of brown to Volnutt’s own, although there were a couple of white streaks here and there. There was also an ‘x’ shaped scar on his cheek. What had he gone through? His armor looked oddly similar to Volnutt’s… That was weird… As the man slowly opened his eyes, they fell upon Volnutt.

  The intensity of his stare made Volnutt nervous. Did… did he have something on his face? No, that couldn’t be it. That wouldn’t cause anyone to make that sort of expression. The man looked like he had seen a ghost. Maybe he had? Were the Spirits back? Volnutt looked behind him to check and see if they had or not. Nope, not a single orb in sight. He turned back to the last stranger. That bewildered look was still there, and were… were those tears? Volnutt was about to speak when the man suddenly fell to his knees, clasping his hands onto the younger carbon’s shoulders. “Hey, are you okay mister?” Volnutt asked, alarmed. The man shook his head, a smile forming onto his face. “You…” he spoke (And wow, there was something about his voice that resonated with Volnutt. That was weird.) Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a choked sob. Well now Volnutt was really worried. Who was this guy? And why was he so affected by him? The man placed a gentle hand against Volnutt’s cheek.

  “You’re my son,” he said.

  Volnutt froze. Surely he heard wrong? “I uh… I think you’ve got the wrong person,” he insisted. The man vehemently shook his head. “There is no way I’m wrong,” the older carbon maintained. “You are my son. You… you look just like I did… Just… younger…” Oh, okay yeah. There were definitely tears coming from this guy now. Volnutt had zero idea what to do. What did you do in this sort of situation?! As he was about to protest, another loud explosion occurred; saving Volnutt from the awkward situation he had found himself in. The man looked past the younger blue clad carbon, seeing the chaos that involved the three newly awakened carbons and Bon as they fought each other.

  “FEFNIR, HARPUIA, AND LEVIATHAN LIGHT!” he barked, leaving Volnutt where he stood in order to get closer to the three. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

  “Hah, you guys got full named,” Phantom chuckled, causing the older stranger to give him a look. The purple clad carbon immediately muttered an apology. “Master X!” Harpuia called out, quickly untangling himself from the mess of limbs Fefnir and Leviathan had him caught up in. “Forgive us, we-“

  “Harpuia, I am your father,” ‘X’ (as he had apparently been introduced) cut him off, a hurt tone to his voice. “You do not have to call me that.” Harpuia stood stunned for a second, before looking away; he had a conflicted expression on his face. The other three carbons quickly joined him, looking back at X. Volnutt quickly looked between all five of the carbons, trying to figure out all the similarities between them. After all, X claimed to be Harpuia’s father, he at least shared a last name with Fefnir and Leviathan, and Phantom seemed to refer to X as an authority figure. That lead to the logical conclusion that they were family.

  A family X seemed convinced he was apart of.

  (Did he let himself hope…? No, X had to be wrong.)

  “Good job, Bon,” Tiesel chuckled from behind. Volnutt turned to see the Tron and Tiesel congratulating their youngest sibling; Bon visibly preening from their words and attention. It made his heart sink. What was that like? Heck, turning back to X and his clan, he could see that even as X was admonishing his children, the siblings were still nudging and winking at each other. They all… belonged. Somewhere. Unlike him. He turned away. It hurt way too much to let himself think about any of that. Volnutt was tempted to leave all together, but… No. That’d be rude. Plus, he still needed to clear up the whole misunderstanding with X.

  “Dang, and here I thought I was imagining it,” Fefnir’s voice pulled Volnutt out of his thoughts. He spun around, seeing X and his children giving him curious looks. A slight blush began forming on his cheeks; why were they staring at him? “Uh…” he started, but was quickly interrupted by Leviathan. “Oh my gosh, he’s ADORABLE!” she squeaked, running up to Volnutt and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. “Seriously, Levi?” Harpuia sighed, walking up to the two of them in order to try and pry her off of the poor child. “Let him process it before you smother him!” As Leviathan let go of Volnutt, he quickly stepped back in order to put some distance between them. “It’ll be nice to not be the youngest anymore,” Phantom smirked as he walked up.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Volnutt spluttered. “You… you’ve got the wrong idea! I don’t- I’m not-“

  “You are,” X cut him off, a smile on his face. “You are the spitting image of me; you have to be related in some way.” Volnutt started at him for a minute, did he hope?

  “I-“

  “Are you kidding me, Mega-dork?!” Tron interrupted.

  Volnutt blinked, turning to look at her with an owlish look. “Dude, how are you not putting together the pieces?” she exasperated. “You said that machine took your blood, right?” The younger blue clad carbon nodded. “Then it said you were some kind of match, right?” He nodded again. “And as far as you’re aware, you don’t have anyone related to you. So all these people could have only been released by you. And you look just like that old man.” X let out a slight protest at that, but Tron ignored him. “Volnutt, you found your family.”

  He… he found his family?

    Volnutt stared at the floor for a minute. He… he just.. he could not believe it. He found his family?! Tears began forming in the corners of his eyes. After all this time… They’ve been here? His breathing picked up. He didn’t want to cry. He really didn’t! But… he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Bringing one of his arms up to his face, he tried hiding it behind trying to wipe sweat off his forehead; but apparently X wasn’t buying it. Volnutt felt his hands gently grab onto his shoulders again. “I am so sorry,” X murmured, running one of his hands through Volnutt’s hair. “But we’re here now. And I am never going to leave you alone again.”

  Volnutt finally gave into his feelings, falling into X’s arms with a wail.

  He was home.

 

 

 

 

  “Sooo… when do we discuss payment?”

  “TRON!”

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

Side note: The cyber elf/spirit can be whoever or whatever you want it to be. Is it Zero? Sure. Axl? That works. The Mother heckin Elf herself? Yee. Heck it can be the last vestiges of cyber elf X if you want (since data is never truly destroyed or lost) I mean hey. if you want, as a fun little game, leave in the notes who you think the cyber elf is.

[keroradio]

Ta-da! Today we have the first audio drama, or rather, the introduction, the main story for this CD is on another track. In total there were 10 audio drama CDs, two sets of 5 with each album being tied to a different frog

The uploads for these will have a one day break on either side, as well as a shorter track, partially because writing out the story will take more time, and partially because I calculated how many tracks there are in total and it turns out I started this a little too early; there are some seasonal songs I wanted to post around the corresponding time, and this will pad things out just enough to let me do that

On that note, there's a translation (and notes) under the cut

Hopefully it turned out well, I forgot how hard these guys are to translate by ear (^.^')

--------------- N: When you're listening to a CD, keep the room bright and sit away from the speaker- What? Ah, it's fine? (1)

Alright then, to show our gratitude that you bought this production, our best wishes to you

Well, it's sudden, but this is the Keron army Pekopon invasion base, secretly built deep under the Hinata house

K66: I'm the commander of the Keroro platoon, nobody else could have gathered you today

Private 2nd Class Tamama!

TMM: Yes!

K66: Corporal Giroro!

G66: Hmph, really, it's not that this will be anything but you doing what you want

K66: Gi-Giroro-kun

G66: What is it?

K66: Since this time is audio only, could you change your voice? It's scary, yes sir

G66: I-Is that so? (sweetly) Hello, I'm Giroro~♥

K66: G-Good job

N: That was also scary...

K66: Moving along, Sgt Major Kururu

966: Ku ku, present

K66: And Angol Mois-dono

M: Yes, uncle!

K66: Ah~ As always, you're such a good, honest girl, aren't you?

TMM: I won't lose like this

N: Tamama fretted

TMM: Yes! It's Private 2nd class Tamama~! ♥

K66: Replying once is enough

TMM: Gaan!

N: And then slumped

K66: Well then, everyone's here

D66: Uh, I am...

K66: (Shocked noises) I forgot him

There's no way I'd forget you! A person we value so, so much!

Lance Corporal Dororo!

D66: I've come to participate

K66: That was close, his trauma switch is still off

G66: Just hurry and tell us what in the world this is about! (awkward pausing) Um, what might this be about? ♥

K66: The grey cells of our army, yet also like a grandmother's embrace, Sgt Major Kururu has invented a fearsome new weapon to easily and simply conquer Pekopon

TMM: Fearsome?

G66: New weapon?

K66: And so, keep your eyes peeled and see that new weapon!

Mois-dono 12487 circuit, switch on!

M: Roger! Switch on!

(Everyone makes exclamations of amazement)

G66: Oh! But isn't this just a normal CD?

K66: Your eyes can't see it, can they? Corporal Giroro

G66: What are you saying?

K66: This CD was developed by Sergeant Major Kururu, when it's read by the treasured home sound system of the enemy, we can freely control them through what they hear

(More exclamations of amazement)

966: Ku ku ku ku, I really am the man that makes the impossible happen

TMM: Ooh! Let's try it out right away Mr Sergeant!

K66: Wait, I'm not finished speaking yet!

Gero gero gero gero, it sounds fearsome, right? This Pekopon invasion CD is going to have 5 kinds made

G66: F-five kinds?

D66: That's amazing, good sir (2)

K66: You understand, right? If in this Heisei era recession somebody released a 5 CD, what would happen? How much of a problem would it be?

M: Mois knows! Uncle will make so that people who want to acquire all of these CD will have to aimlessly search all over for them. You could say "Strength in numbers"

K66: Mois-dono~

TMM: I can't lose!

N: Tamama fretted once again

TMM: Mr Sergeant's amazing! It's a miracle you have the popularity to make a 5 part CD set!

K66: (Distressed noises)

TMM: I screwed up

N: And once again Tamama slumped

K66: Setting that aside! All eyes on the monitor!

Behold! Our audio weapon!

G66: Th-this is!

TMM: Oh!

M: It's an original drama CD, isn't it? Uncle

K66: Precisely

TMM: Hmm, the first one is Mr Sergeant's Gunpla diary, the second is Mr Sergeant's poem collection, third is Mr Sergeant's health diary, forth is Mr Sergeant...

G66: (noises of irritation)

K66: How's it? What does everyone think? It's the best, right?

G66: Keroro! You moron! What part of this is a Pekopon invasion CD!? Ultimately, isn't this a CD of your interests!?

K66: However, after all, see, it was fun to make

G66: It was only fun for you!

TMM: Right? It won't sell with titles like this

K66: Gero!

TMM: Since there's 5 in the set, I want to make one "Tamama: The path to hand-to-hand combat, yes sir" volume (3)

G66: I'll make a CD too! One that appeals to the spirit of the Keron army "Giroro: Speeches of rage, yes sir" volume

966: Ku Ku, I've also been thinking, "Kururu: Discover through sound, great field guide, yes sir" volume. How is it?

M: Um, I have something to say. If there's space, I think a "Mois, return to her home town" volume would be good, you could say, feathering your own nest

D66: In that case, I think a "Dororo: A wonderful world of flowers & greenery, yes sir" volume would be nice, good sir. It would have bird songs, & river sounds-

723: Hey! Stupid frog!

K66: Auwah!

723: I heard it from Yoshizaki-sensei. You're making an original drama CD, aren't you?

K66: Uh, that's...

FYK: Aren't you being secretive, sergeant?

K66: Fuyuki-dono too!?

MMK: Hello! Did my Tama-chan come to play?

TMM: Ah! Even Momocchi!

723: For a well made CD, it would be nice to get Mutsumi-san as a guest to do a special talk, wouldn't it?

K66: What?

FYK: In that case, as the Occult Club, we could do an audio report on the 7 mysteries of the world

K66: Well, that's...

MMK: Since he world's 7 mysteries would cover a lot of material, let's release it as a first & second part 2 disc set

K66: W-wait a minute-this is- I'm supposed to be the author of this-

UMMK: What's that? You've got complaints about the 7 mysteries of the world?

K66: Gero~

723: No matter what, it should be something fun

K66: Well, that's true, but...

723: Then let's all do it

K66: (Noises of frustration)

N: Just then, something inside of Keroro snapped

K66: I don't wanna! I don't wanna! I don't wanna! Everyone's doesn't wanna listen to my ideas and are making their own 5-part CD sets!

G66: What? You're suddenly having a tantrum!?

TMM: "I think you should stop crying "me me me me" like a kid! (4)

K66: No way!

G66: Aren't you embarrassed as an army man?

K66: I wanna make a gunpla diary! I wanna make one!

D66: Everyone, my suggestion-

TMM: More than that, We should do a Private 2nd Class Tama-chan diary!

M: That's good, but so is my "Mois-chan: uncle love-love diary"!

TMM: Burying me under a similar idea, I won't forgive this woman!

N: Again, again, again, again, Tamama fretted

723: More importantly, are you going to call Mutsumi-san as a guest or not?

G66: I-I think if Natsumi says so, we should call him

K66: No no no no! It's my CD! We're doing what I want!

G66: You're crying over a CD!

FYK: I thought the world's seven mysteries was good

MMK: Isn't it? Hey Paul! Give it your all and to back up Fuyuki-kun! Paul! Buy every dictaphone you can find!

P: Yes, miss

M: Then, how about a three-part harmageddon-

TMM: Keep that off this CD!

N: Again, again, again, again, again, Tamama lost it

TMM: I've had it!

723: Call Mutsumi!

Everyone: Unintelligible arguing

966: Ku ku ku, it's already a mess, huh?

N: Any way, in an ugly, hostile environment like this, will the Pekopon invasion CD be born?

____

1-It's a parody of the warnings that started being placed at the beginning of animated shows after flashing lights in the Porygon episode of Pokemon caused photosensitive migraines & seizures. The warnings tell viewers to sit a good distance from the screen and to keep the room well lit since this reduces the photo sensitive effect, but since it's a CD it doesn't really effect anything.

2-Keroro's ending sentences "de arimasu" is derived from military speech and translated as "yes sir" to reflect that, while Dororo's "de gozaru" is both formal and archaic (the modern counterpart is "gozaimasu"), so I translated it as "good sir" to have a similar feel.

3-The pattern for the proposed titles is, of course, modeled off the episode titles, but "volume" ("title" no maki) actually means something closer to roll, a lot of works use this pattern which dates back to when everything was written on scrolls.

4-I had to fudge this one because it doesn't translate neatly; you've probably noticed from listening that Japanese has multiple options for first person pronouns that have different associations and how well a character's categories match to the "I" they use can tell you more about them.

Keroro normally uses "Wagahai" which is an old fashioned and slightly arrogant sounding way of calling yourself (it's a bit like saying "my esteemed self") and is sort of a more archaic counterpart to the modern "Ore-sama". But during his meltdown, he uses "Boku" which it typically used by boys and younger men, in this case to make him sound more childish.

....Either way, it's a little ironic that Tamama's the one complaining about Keroro doing this since he also uses a more childish speech pattern.

[reine-du-sourire]

The Heights of Follicular Perfection

Greetings, peasants! It has come to my attention that some of you are utterly clueless when it comes to the delicate art of hair care, and it seems that I, Lord Morgarath of the Mountains of Rain and Night, have been called upon to grace you with my unparalleled wisdom on the subject. You see, not everyone can possess the resplendent beauty of my own exquisite tresses, but I shall generously enlighten you on the art of maintaining such magnificence.

Begin your pitiable journey to acceptable hair with a shampoo befitting someone of my own exalted station. It should be concocted from the rarest botanical extracts, harvested beneath the pale moonlight by elven maidens. Mass-produced swill is unworthy of consideration. Your hair deserves nothing but the best.

As you approach your precious locks, remember to handle them as though they were spun from the very threads of the heavens. Do not scrub your hair like a kitchen slave washing the supper dishes; instead, caress it delicately, as you would a rare and fragile treasure. Imagine yourself to be weaving a symphony with your fingertips.

A plebian's mistake is rushing through the rinsing process. Not so for me, the illustrious Lord Morgarath. I stand beneath the cascading waters of my private waterfall for no less than an hour, letting each strand bask in the liquid purity of Rain and Night. If you do not have access to such means, tears of sorrow will do in a pinch.

A true connoisseur of hair care knows the value of an opulent conditioner. Apply the very best of its kind in a manner akin to worship, using only the softest, most pristine fingertips, ensuring that every strand of your hair is coated. Leave it on for precisely the amount of time it takes for your servant to fetch your evening tea.

Now, rinse your hair once again, with the same delicacy and finesse. Water from the well? Unthinkable! Your hair should only come into contact with the finest and purest. One must, with the grace and precision of a dancer, ensure that every drop of conditioner is removed. Failure to do so will result in a residue that is utterly beneath all dignity.

A rough, uncouth approach to drying is an affront to your hair's sensibilities. Gently wrap your head in the softest silken cloths- common towels are reserved for the commoners- and allow it to absorb the moisture with the reverence your tresses deserve. Pat, do not rub, and certainly do not subject your hair to the indignity of what you mortals call a 'blow dryer'. Alternatively, you may have your servants use feathered fans to waft a gentle breeze over your head.

Next, behold the selection of a hairbrush. Only a tool crafted by the most skilled artisans will suffice. Allow me to emphasize that vigorous brushing is completely unacceptable. Your hair must be coaxed and caressed into submission, not yanked into place like the mangy fur of a stray dog.

To achieve the mesmerizing luster that my own hair effortlessly exudes, apply a few drops of the rarest oils, preferably sourced from some remote mountain peak or a mystical forest. Your hair shall gleam like moonlight on a crystal lake, leaving all who gaze upon it in awe.

After following these instructions with the diligence they deserve, you may gaze upon your much-improved crowning glory. While it will never rival the splendor of my own, it may yet reach a level of mediocrity acceptable in polite society.

In conclusion, my dear simpletons, hair care is a craft reserved for the select few who possess the taste and refinement to appreciate its true significance. It is an art form, a science, and a sacred duty. And while you haven't a hope of reaching the heights of follicular perfection that I have achieved, you can at least aspire to one day serve as a worthy audience to my magnificence.

Until then, strive for perfection, and remember, your hair is a reflection of your worth.

[thestarfilledsea]

Sun Catcher

words: 2,585

i’m choosing to ignore this tweet that popped up halfway through the creation of this. have the first thing i’ve written in around six months lmao

—

The great sage equal to heaven had held many precious things in his grasp.

From the moment he claimed his title, gold, weapons, heirlooms and jewels alike all fell nigh effortlessly into his hands. the finest silks draped themselves over his skin, and the oldest rings rested on his fingers. The king was a sight to behold when he chose to decorate himself with his fortune. fortunes whose value was beyond a mere mortal’s comprehension.

However, this treasure was different.

It was not carved from glittering gold or the finest Jade, but only from stone. not as awe inspiring as his staff or one of the many celestial weapons Wukong had wielded, but this was certainly the heaviest of them all.

he just couldn’t get over how small they were.

The newborn stone monkey wriggled in his hold, its small hands reaching up to the heavens in the biggest stretch they could muster, their tail curling in effort. A soft coo escaped the sage as he brought the babe to his chest. Blinking up at him with dark eyes, They seemed curious, tiny fingers wrapping around his own.

In that moment, Wukong understood why mortals had such strong ties to their children. He would trade every ounce of wealth he had ever held for this child in a heartbeat. He would fight all of heaven’s armies, sit another 49 days in the furnace, and even be willingly trapped under the mountain again just to have the cub wrap their hands around his calloused fingers once more.

This was bad.

He hadn’t meant to get attached. He knew what the plan was, he couldn’t deviate from it.

Could he?

No. No.

The destiny that awaited the two was unchanging. He had to do this. He wasn’t fit to raise a child. He had too many enemies. Too many people that would see the sunbeam as an opportunity for revenge.

He already had scoped out a perfect home for them. they’d be taken care of, he knew that much. Wukong was no fool. He could see the echoes of his old friends in their faces, the way they smiled at children being fed noodles by their parents, the blink-and-you’d-miss-it longing glances both Pigsy and Tang spared to the little ones.

He knew that they’d keep the cub safe. He would be wanted, loved, and cared for; a language Wukong didn’t speak. a language he was never taught.

Bundling the sunbeam up in his scarf, Wukong stood up. He just had to make it to the city and drop them off. simple as that, no more fuss.

there was a small sound from the blanket.

Glancing back down at the kid was a mistake. the eyes that gazed up at him reflected his own, filled with such wonder and curiosity. it made the sage's stomach twist in such guilt he had never known. oh heaven he felt sick. He couldn’t do this. How much had the ritual taken out of him? He hadn't felt this lightheaded since heaven knows when.

ripping his eyes away from his the child, Wukong summoned his somersault cloud.

Unexpectedly, a bubbling laugh left the cub at the sudden motion. For the first time in centuries, the king found himself frozen. unable to take the next step forwards onto his cloud. but the babe didn’t seem to mind, the swaying leaves in the tree above kept them occupied. laughter continued to pour out of their mouth, in what Wukong could only describe as a song.

Something faltered in the sage. He couldn’t tell if it was his resolve to keep going or his heart. His own laughter bubbled up in his chest, an unfamiliar warmth filling his veins. it felt as if someone had lit his heart aflame. but this was no fire Wukong had come to know. there was no smoke, no burning, only a warm ferocity growing stronger with each moment passed between the two.

He felt as if he held the weight of the world in his hands.

Sitting defeatedly back onto the ground, Wukong held the cub close with weak hands. The two watched the tree dance above them around the spring breeze, the babbling of the nearby river, and the bird song that filled the island.

fluttering down, a butterfly landed square on the cub’s nose. an expression of comical surprise spread across their face, much to Wukong’s amusement. the initial shock fading into excitement, the little one did not move so much as an inch. Well, not moving an inch was a strong statement. Wukong could tell that the cub’s tail was wagging ecstatically from wherever it lay bundled in the scarf.

a deep laugh was pulled out of Wukong at that. they’re definitely as excitable as he is.

The butterfly stretched its wings, opening and closing them in front of the little entranced monkey. their big eyes never straying from the blue and yellow patterns spreading out before them.

upon a stray breath of wind, the butterfly flutters its wings once more before flying away. both monkeys watching its path into the flowering forest.

The moment of silence made Wukong’s stomach twist again. What was he doing? This was just going to make it so much worse in the end.

the little one’s yawn snapped his attention back to them once more. Their small face nuzzling into his hand.

——

The familiar creaks in the cottage floor flooded Wukong with a sense of home. At that moment, he couldn’t discern if it was from his dwellings or the cub in his arms.

This was only for a few minutes. He was in and out just for a proper blanket for the child and not just his cape. they deserved that much.

and the seal.

Wukong’s tail twitched.

He knew that he had to place a seal on the cub to keep their glamours up. to appear human. keeping one's glamours up for an extended amount of time was never preferable. but Wukong knew that the stakes were too high to do anything else. If anyone made the connection back to him, it wouldn’t end well for the child. that didn’t make it much easier though, a seal this powerful would sap the little one's magic very efficiently to fuel itself. which in a way, was a blessing and a curse. the cub would grow up hopefully without any powers leaking through. but beyond his teen years, Wukong wasn’t sure how much longer the seal would hold.

Not to mention the side effects. Bouts of weakness, sensitivity to magic, a ghost limb in the form of a tail, and sleeping deeply frequently to make up for the constant upkeep.

He almost chuckled at the idea of the cub sleeping in no matter how many alarms they set. Poor kid would probably get yelled at by his boss in the future.

A sigh escaped the great sage.

Setting the baby down on his bed, he quickly turned to the closet and began rifling through junk to find the kid a blanket fit for a king. Since when did he have so much junk in here? It’s almost like he has no idea how to organize and just threw all the “soft stuff” he had in one closet.

sending a silent curse to his past self, Wukong just starts pulling everything out of the closet. It'd be easier to find a suitable blanket that way.

Sleepy gurgling emitted from the bundle. Wukong could feel the biggest stupidest smile spread across his face. He chirped over his shoulder back to them.

The sounds of delight that followed speared Wukong through the gut.

So, of course, the king punches himself in the face.

Like a reasonable person would do when experiencing attachment to a child.

He was reasonable.

His eyes flickered over to his broken mirror, taking note of the bruise forming on his cheek.

So unfathomably reasonable.

A chirp piped up from behind him. “Don’t worry.” He shoved another stack of wadded tapestries to the side, scanning through them. “I’m just a really punchable guy yanno?”

There was a coo.

“See you get it. Sometimes you just gotta punch yourself in the face. No big deal.”

Ah. Here we go. Partly obscured by the rest of the various unbelievably valuable yet discarded cloth lay a simple red blanket with golden edging. Gingerly picking it up, Wukong’s fur prickled. It had been so long since he’d held this in his hands.

It was the first blanket he’d ever had. He remembers the excitement of finding a mansion behind the waterfall, the way he picked it up and realized how soft and heavy it was. After that, the newly crowned king kept it obscured but close by. Even centuries later Wukong kept it within reach. It offered a sort of comfort almost nothing else could. He’d never admit it but he longed for it on the journey and his time under the mountain.

Wukong caught himself staring and sighed. Wadding the blanket up, he gave it one last squeeze, breathing in its familiar scent. It would keep the kid safe.

The coo that left the cub when he wrapped them in it was worth it. They seemed to like it as much as he did, as they quite instantly nuzzled themself even deeper into the bundle if at all possible. Wukong hummed in amusement. Settling down on the bed, he drew the little one close once more.

Now comes the hard part.

Flexing his fingers, he could already feel the crackling magic forming in his hands. The faint glow that radiated from his palms served as an object of interest to the tiny monkey. Eyes wide, staring intently at the rapidly forming seal. The delicate threads of magic weaving themselves around one another, spiraling into a form only their creator could behold.

The king looked upon the child. His kin. His family. Trying to take in every detail, every stray splatter of his facial marking, his tail, his little fangs and his pointed ears. Heaven knows it could well possibly be the last time he sees the cub in their natural form.

He hesitates.

They looked up at him with trust. This one trusted him. And he was about to break it.

His hands shook, shaking his head he steadied himself. There’s no other way. How is that so hard to forget? “I’m sorry.” He muttered. Without any additional warning, Wukong’s hands darted forward, pressing the seal to the cub’s chest. He could hear the impact of magic hitting the cub. Glittering eyes flicking shut, there was a pause.

The wail that followed wrenched Wukong’s heart out of his chest. Strong arms wrapped around the cub once more, pulling them close in a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking hands gripped the bundle, feeling the fabric wrinkle under his nails. The cub's raw gasps for air just to sob it out again was unbearable.

Resting the side of his face to the little one’s, the sage could see that the seal was doing its job. One by one any features implying the child was a demon slipped away, replaced by ones of a human.

The child seemed to sense his gaze and wriggled uncomfortably, sobs still ripping their way from their jaws in an agonizing wail.

Gently bouncing them like he’d seen mothers do, Wukong found himself humming. He wasn’t sure where he’d heard the song before, or who had sung it. But the remnants of comfort remained.

The spiraling sound of the wordless was song seemed to soothe the child, their sobs quieting and their little body sagging downwards in exhaustion. Further pacifying them was a hand rubbing against their back in a circular motion, leaving streaks of warmth in its wake.

Wukong found himself staring out the window adjacent to where he sat. Streaks of dusk and the promise of a full moon littered the sky and its dying sunlight.

A sigh escaped him, peering down at the now asleep baby that lay on his chest.

He could move. He could just go and give them away today. That would be the smartest thing to do as to not get attached.

He knew that.

He also knew that he was sinking further into the bedding. Wow that ritual sure did wear him out. He couldn’t possibly be in control of his movements right now, it was his exhaustion!

He was so good at this.

The cub shifted on his chest, crinkling their nose for a second before relaxing once more. He could stare at them forever.

His little light.

“I’m going to protect you forever.” Hands brushed through their thick dark hair. “I promise.”

Their hand squeezed his.

This was it. 7AM in the morning, just before Pigsy’s noodles open. Wukong felt as if he carried a mountain in his hands. If the mountain was babbling for food.But the king knew how demons imprinted. Through food. The cub’s first meal had to be with his actual parents.

Scanning the area as to avoid any curious humans, he crouched down just in front of the shop.

The flowerbed in front of the shop served as a makeshift crib. Plus, the kid seemed to like nature. Maybe they’ll just think it’s a game.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he lowered the cub into the flowers.

They kicked unhappily, though he reasons that most of it is from hunger.

They looked up at him quizzically when he pulled his hands away from them.

“I-“ his words get caught on something. Something sharp in his throat. “I hope someday you’ll forgive me.” Wukong’s choked whisper was almost lost to the early morning buzz of the city.

Standing up and away from the cub, Wukong abruptly turned on his heel and walked away.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He knew if he did he’d just scoop them up and never let them go again. Not even when pathetic chirps called after him.

Ducking into an alley, his legs buckled into the pavement. A stabbing feeling pulsed from his chest, his head too light to move.

He could still hear the chirps.

Fuck. Fuck.

He could hear Zhu Bajie Pigsy open the door, complaining about the bird's racket until his eyes fell on the kid.

He could hear him calling for his counterpart, he could hear the pig demon pick up the baby. He could hear muffled comforting words leaking to the alley.

With a shaky breath, the sage summoned his somersault cloud and left.

—

When the sage arrived home it was pitch black.

He had gone flying for the remainder of the day, the sharp cold air acting as an anchor. The sensation being the only thing tethering him to reality at the moment.

But now he was tired.

Not because the gale carried away bitter tears for three hours straight, not at all.

It was just because of the ritual. Nothing more nothing less.

The night felt suffocating.

Wukong walked up to the waterfall, careful not to spare a glance to any baby monkeys sleeping beside their parents.

The creak of wood underneath his feet snapped him back to reality.

There he stood, home at last, in an unbearably empty house.

It didn’t exactly feel like home.

It was as if he’d planted a seed he’d never get to see bloom. He’d never see the beauty of what could have been.

“Monkey King?”

“Yep, the one and only. So, where’s my staff?”

[risalei-nur]

The Words - The Tenth  Word - Part 28

Also, reflect upon the world’s different regions, how each exhibits God’s handiwork and proclaims His being Lord in the diversity of all plants and animals.24 Listen to the Prophets and saints who proclaim His Lordship’s beau- ties. See how they point to the All-Majestic Maker’s flawless perfections and demonstrate His miraculous arts, thereby inviting our admiration.

The Maker of this world has very important, amazing, and hidden perfec- tions, which He wills to display via His miraculous arts. Hidden perfections long to be known by those who will gaze upon it with admiration and appreci- ation. Eternal perfection requires eternal manifestation, which in turn requires the eternal existence of those who will appreciate and admire it. The value of perfection diminishes in the view of its admirer if the latter is not eternal.25

Those brilliant, beautiful, artistic, and adorned creatures that cover the face of the universe demonstrate the dimensions of an unequaled transcen- dent Grace and point to the subtle aspects of a hidden Beauty, just as sun- light testifies to the sun’s existence.26 Every manifestation of that transcen- dent Beauty, that holy Grace, points to the existence of innumerable unseen treasures in each of God’s Names. So exalted, peerless, and hidden a Beauty wills to behold Itself in a mirror, to see Its degrees and measures reflected in animate beings, and to become manifest so that It may look upon Itself through the eyes of others. In short, Beauty wills to see Itself both in mirrors of different colors and through the eyes of Its yearning lovers and dazzled admirers. So, since Divine Beauty and Grace are eternal and everlasting, they require the everlasting existence of their lovers and admirers, for Eternal Beauty can never be content with transient admirers. The love of an admirer condemned to permanent separation will turn to hatred once the thought of separation takes hold. Admiration yields to an ill opinion, and respect yields to contempt. For selfish people may be enemies of what they do not know, are be opposed to what lies beyond their reach. A finite love responds to a beauty that deserves infinite admiration with tacit hostility, hatred, and rejection. This is a profound reason for why unbelievers hate God.

So unlimited generosity and liberality, unequalled beauty and absolute perfection require the existence of supplicants and admirers with eternal longing and gratitude. But this temporary world’s inhabitants depart having tasted that generosity only long enough to whet their appetites. Seeing only a dim shadow of beauty and perfection’s light, they are not fully con- tent. Thus we can be sure that we are traveling to a place of eternal joy where we will be fully content. In short, just as this world and its creatures prove the All-Majestic Creator’s Existence, His holy Attributes and Names point to and necessitate the Hereafter’s existence.

[dnangelic]

𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄?

tagged by @bullsh1tterz tysm!!

To love .

You're the kind of person who's hopelessly in love with love itself. You want to live your life chasing after beauty, seeking out the silver linings in even the darkest of places, crying tears of adoration because some things are just too splendid and profound to behold without overflowing. Perhaps others call you naive, deride you as a hopeless idealist for wanting to believe that this universe could be a place worth loving. But you are not ignorant to matters of unsightliness—you have simply decided that they cannot degrade the value of what is truly precious. For you, love is essential. You probably believe that the root of suffering is the disconnect between reality and the heart's cherished ideals. There's something very special about people like you, who stubbornly, tenaciously sing of love in a world so many others find countless reasons resent. The beauty of your existence is that it requires no grandiose feats, no lofty legacy that outlives it in order to have purpose. It is enough to be here and let your love grant this universe meaning. Without people like you to appreciate it, there would be no value to the grandiose or the miniscule. You are the universe fleetingly comprehending itself and falling in love with what you see. You probably collect photographs or mementos of your favorite memories, and believe full-heartedly that to love and lose is better than to have never loved at all. Even so, it's likely you avoid things that remind you of painful experiences, because you want to dedicate this existence to loving as much as you possibly can and wallowing in regrets too long will make your heart grow bitter. You've lived and live on out of love, so you don't want to waste time lingering in loveless places. You probably treasure your loved ones deeply, perhaps even reverently. It's a splendid thing to be able to see the best in people, but you must be careful not to put them on a pedestal. Make sure that you are in love with the reality of a person and not who you believe they have the potential to be. Likewise, do not overlook condemning faults in your desire to see everything as worthy of salvation, or you run the risk of adopting dangerous ideals. However, even you have moments in which it is difficult to find things worth loving. Do not let these troubling times disillusion you—you're here because you believe love is worth living for. And it is, so do not be afraid when your journey leads you to pass through loveless places. There is always beauty to be found somewhere, and as long as you put faith in the knowledge that you will find it again, you will be able to bear anything.

To forgive yourself .

Most people have regrets. We all have to live with the consequences of decisions we wish we could take back. But what you regret is more than a mistake or short-sighted choice. You regret your very existence. Everything you've ever done is something you wish you could undo. You believe it is impossible to become the kind of person you want to be. You see yourself as a lost cause. You feel chained down by the love you receive, because you are sure you will only hurt anyone foolish enough to see something worth loving in you. You want to rid this world of yourself and feel trapped by all the hands holding you back. "I love you" is the phrase you most dread hearing. You wish that everyone else would hate you as much as you think you deserve. Perhaps you feel it would make ending it all so much easier. It's possible you have only stayed alive this long because you believe the only thing that would cause more misery than your life is your death. Either way, you are certain you live a life beyond salvation. And you are wrong. You have been made to believe your best is not enough, that your efforts have no value because you will always fall short. Perhaps too much was expected of you from the day you were born. I would not be surprised if the impossible was the very first thing you remember being asked to do. You can't stop regretting a failure that was always inevitable. You cannot forgive yourself for existing as the imperfect person you can't help but be. You believe you don't deserve forgiveness. But you do. Your human faults and limitations do not make you worthless. You have as much right to be here as anyone else. Your needs and boundaries are not a burden, and those who would treat them as such are the ones to be faulted. You're here to forgive yourself and the life you live. It will be difficult and it will not happen quickly, but it is a task that needs undertaking. Redeem yourself by slowly, gradually putting an end to your eternal atonement. Atone for the years you've lost to self-loathing by telling yourself that this existence of yours is nothing to repent for. You will not believe it at first. But you must try to treat yourself as you would a treasured friend, as those that love you know you deserve to be treated. Over and over, tell yourself the words that you can't yet bring yourself to believe, and one day you'll notice that they've started to feel as if they might be true, if only now and again. The love that chains you down, that you believe you don't deserve, it doesn't have to torment you. It can be a comfort, too. One day, you will be grateful for the hands holding you back. You deserve to know what it's like to be alive without wishing you weren't. Have faith and dedicate yourself to that.