#:[ BRINGER OF HOPE : IC ]:
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"Humans really are fun beings, aren't they? Once they're born, they're destined to die, as all things are. And yet, they're the only living beings who delude themselves into thinking there's more than that. Some even think they can some how escape, even cheat Death. So many have tried, and all will fail~"
"Well, I know who I can thank for that. On one hand, dear Hope taking my Gift of Sight from then made them so much more amusing."
"If only they realized how fun their despair is themself~..."
#tag time :)#Doom Bringer IC;;#Doom Bringer HC;;#Doom Bringer Musings;;#(Moros.)#they are here to make everyone around them Worse :)#Especially Hope :)))
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Thats.. A Sight He Doesnt Like..
#:[ OBSERVATIONS | DASH COMMENTARY ]:#:[ NUMERALIS-XCVI ]:#:[ BRINGER OF HOPE : IC ]:#| ' If it isnt the most anxiety inducing moment of my life made manifest! ' |
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"Miss Carmilla. I do hope this isn't too forward but, I have admired you from afar for FAR too long. I have taken the weekend off from the courts to truly enjoy myself for first time in a long time." He softly offered the flowers forward.
"I was hoping you would be my date for this evening. I want to take you dinner at little place I have in my ring or if you don't feel comfortable going to my ring. I do know two wonderful restantants in both Greed and on this ring. I will not be upset if I am not up to your standards but, I would be beside myself if I didn't at least try to court you."
"You are truly beauitful woman and I have respect your drive and abilities for quite some time."
@justiceiswrath said: Satan has come by Camilia place on his motorcycle with black roses in his hands. He got leather jacket on and some sunglasses. "Excuse girls would mind tell your mother. I am here to see her. I would be honored if you did so."
The girls were visibly shocked to see Satan standing right outside their door with roses. Clara was the first to recover, trying and failing to suppress and amused smile at the entire situation.
"Uh, yeah! Sure. We can go get her." Clara grabbed Odette's arm and dragged her along with her. It would be a few minutes before Carmilla herself would be at the door, looking just as surprised to see Satan there as her daughters.
"Your majesty? What can I--" Carmilla's gaze lands on the roses, her mind quickly connecting the dots. Her eyes widened. "...do for you..."
#ic [justice bringer]#hope it's ok to just straight reblog.#I don't trust my tag sometimes and I really want RP this lol.
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BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who holds power-point presentation nights at the end of each quarter. it was his idea, obviously; a small excuse for Jungkook to be able to stay up all night talking to you. the themes were free, many of the chosen ones were absurd, but it was in the fun of that little game that Jungkook delighted his soul. with each power-point you presented, Jungkook saw a new side of you: what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you wanted, what you dreamed of — those nights were a free pass for Jungkook to get to know you better than he already knew. and he would make a point of continuing that tradition of yours. “and today i’m going to explain why you are every flavor of ice cream we’ve ever eaten together. For starters, you can be as sour as lemon ice cream. then…”
BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who goes to the playgrounds with you at night. when the city was quieter and calm was the blanket that covered every street, you and Jungkook would venture out to the various playgrounds in your neighborhood. they were moments that would forever reside in your tender memories. the laughter that echoed through the park brought a little joy to that grey city; the small screams that were heard in the park woke up the city to a more hopeful reality. the city parks were sacred to you. once again wearing the essence of a child and returning to times of innocence, you and Jungkook played on the slides and swings, a quick game of tag warming you on the coldest nights, pure happiness running through your veins. “thank you for sheltering my inner child. thank you for playing with me and bringing together all the pieces of me that were scattered throughout my heart.”
BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who tells you that you are the unicorn for his barbie. you and Jungkook had seen all the barbie movies when you were kids and since then Jungkook believed that you were the unicorn in his life. bringer of happiness, your essence was unique: you painted Jungkook’s soul with the softest pinks and the warmest yellows; you glowed with your presence, always so happy and excited to be with Jungkook; you were magic itself spreading across the cosmos, all the stars blessing you with some of their dust to make you as radiant as a unicorn. it was only natural for Jungkook to be the barbie, for the barbie may not need a ken, but any barbie wouldn’t say no to a unicorn. “you leave a trail of magic wherever you go and it is in this stardust that i can find my happiness. thank you for being my barbie’s unicorn.”
BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who turns all promises into pinky promises. none of you remembered how it started, you just knew that it was a tradition that would last until old age. no matter how important or great the promise was — you and Jungkook would always intertwine your pinkies and seal that promise by pressing your thumbs together. that way, you had to keep your promise, there were no excuses. that’s why you bought a horse mask to wear at your high school graduation dinner. that was why Jungkook used your make-up before his driving test. that was why you and Jungkook would love each other forever — it was written on your pinkies and sealed in your thumbs. “i promise i will always buy you socks with stars when i see them. and i also promise to see the stars with you until the last star goes out. pinky promise.”
BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who sends you pictures of pigeons saying it was you. the number of pigeons that existed in his neighborhood was fantastic. some brown, others white, some thin, others too round to walk, the truth is that a wide variety of pigeons walk the streets of his neighborhoods. and in all the pigeons, Jungkook remembered the times you fed them on your field trips. in all the pigeons, Jungkook remembered the times you scared away the pigeons just to see them flying freely. in every pigeon, Jungkook saw a memory of you — it was only natural for him to connect your essence to these special birds. “i was leaving the house and i saw a pigeon sticking its head in a water pipe. it looked like you when you’re eating chips.”
BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who pretends to be your boyfriend when someone messes with you. whether in the middle of the street, in a bar or before entering a store, it didn’t matter. every time Jungkook noticed that you were receiving unwanted attention and that sooner or later they would approach you, he acted quickly. wrapping one of his arms around your neck and pulling you close to him, Jungkook almost instantly adopted a more serious, larger posture. with his eyes fixed on whoever bothered you, protecting you from the various looks and mouths, Jungkook wasn’t afraid to talk to them, to show that you were unavailable and that it was better for them to continue on their way. Jungkook would always protect you, that was a long-established certainty, no matter what he had to do for your well-being. “if you have any problems or don’t feel safe or whatever, i hope you know that i’m always here, okay? use me however you want, but make sure you’re okay.”
BEST-FRIEND!JUNGKOOK who confessed to you when you came back from the grocery store. he had helped you with the monthly shopping, just because he could carry all the bags. Jungkook always made sure to carry the bags, he never let you carry the bags and you knew he would send you to the ground if necessary just so you wouldn’t carry the bags. but at the end of the day, although still carrying the various bags, Jungkook walked more slowly. was he tired? his face was expressionless, he was completely lost in his thoughts. and it was when you were getting ready to ask if he was okay that he took a deep breath and called your name. it would be at that moment. “you know? i really value our friendship, i really do. i think that of all the relationships i have, yours is the only one i don’t want to lose. and i like you too. a lot. how… how the moon likes the sun.”
#!BTS bouquet꒱₊˚ᰔ.#jeonjungkook#bts#jungkook#btsarmy#bangtansonyeondan#army#bangtanboys#bangtan#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#bts jungkook#bts x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook oneshot#jungkook scnearios#bts fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook fic recs#jungkook imagines#bts fic#bts rec
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Ruthless Justice
This fic is dedicated to my dear friend @artsofmetamoor as a gift! She had also expressed an interest to the events of the murder of the suitors but I decided to take it into a more tragic level; the excecution of the 12 maids and I added some random emotional scene afterwards! You are warned this fic includes dark themes!
The cries that filled the room were deafening. The young ears of Telemachus could not bear them. The slave women were forced to clean up the room from the corpses of the blasted suitors that nearly killed him and took the kingdom of his father. It was the first time Telemachus had killed. He still couldn’t believe it how easy it had been! It was almost easier than hunting wild goats and deer in the mountains of Ithaca! Some part of him had felt a wild pleasure, almost hedonic gladness, when he had stabbed that first body and continued. This hedonism increased by the happiness he felt that he was helping his father, that he was useful. He felt pleasure for this justice that was finally prevailing in the halls of his house; finally the constant harassment and insults his mother and himself had gone through was punished and he had finally found his father. He had witnessed his brain and his ferocity, his dexterity and cunning first hand! So far he had only heard of it from others that had met him and yet now he had actually seen it before him; his father who was no longer at the prime of youth he had managed to clean the hall of 108 men 10 or even 20 years younger than what he was. Some part of Telemachus wondered; how was his father in his prime? How much more ferocity in battle he possessed? How much more wits and wiles could he loom in short amounts of time?
However now that the first thrill of battle had gone, now they had finished cleaning the chairs of the hall with sponges and water, Telemachus was shocked at their own strength and results. He looked around at the hall that was basically full of wrapped bodies; the bodies that used to belong to vigorous, young nobles and his father now stood at the hall, hard as the stones that built that very palace. Odysseus was not a tall man (that much was a surprise to Telemachus, for from the conversations he had heard about his father’s strength and name he had expected him to be as tall as he was, perhaps taller), he barely stood at average height, maybe a little less, but his physique showed the power that his hardships built upon him. His raven hair, which had already started turning silver from time and hardships, was curly like his own and long till his shoulders; those strong shoulders burnt by sea and sun. A thick bushy beard was hiding a strong jaw line and mouth shut tightly closed. However Telemachus particularly noticed his stone look as the onyx eyes of his seemed soulless like glass even if they burnt with hatred and anger. Right now he could see before him a man who lived up to his name; “The Anger Bringer”. Odysseus was indeed enraged; that much Telemachus could tell. The almost full day of slaughter seemed to have created a curst thick like salt upon his face, just as thick was the blood that had splattered it, the blood he didn’t have much time to clean. And yet, despite all that, he seemed to stand naturally within that chaos; like only a war veteran would stand naturally amongst corpses and cries. He remained there as the lamenting women were literally dragged and pushed at his feet as he stood at the podium of the throne. He seemed like a judge; a ruthless judge ready to pass judgment. Telemachus had seen him angry, hopeful, crying, tender and then ruthless in his killing but now he was truly disturbed at the shadow that had passed over his face. He saw then the one that had come from war; the Sacker of Cities… Odysseus looked down at the maidens crying and struggling, as if they were insects.
“I took you to my home…” he said, his voice cold as ice and sharp as a knife, “I gave you a bed, fed you, dressed you…made sure you would want of nothing while you were under my roof… I respected your wishes…never mistreated you and this is how you repay me? By mingling with my enemies…the very men that wished to violently claim my wife and kill my son?”
Every word was a hammer upon a nail. Telemachus felt a shiver down his spine. He wouldn’t want to be to the other end of that look that was for sure! The women seemed pale like bed sheets; like the sheets that were covering the bodies they had gathered with their own very hands. He saw the other two helpers of theirs; the two herders Eumaeus and Philoetius, standing over the crying maidens, watching at their master with pride. Telemachus had never seen so much wild triumph to the old face of Eumaeus’s before. Never.
“Eumaeus….” Odysseus addressed him, “What is the punishment for treason?”
“Death, my lord” his voice didn’t even hesitate
“Quite so…” Odysseus nodded.
He glared at the slave girls like a hawk.
“Normally I should drag you all out and stone you to death!”
Odysseus didn’t have to yell. All he needed was to speak in that low voice that boiled with anger, like the bubbling water in a cauldron. And yet that was more than enough to emphasize his anger.
“However we have caused enough ruin already! And I shall not even spare one single sacred stone of this palace for you!”
One could wonder whether he was about to say he would sell them away or something of similar manner, which would already be cruel enough. However the king of Ithaca said;
“Philoetius! Bring me a long piece of rope! Eumaeus, help me bring these treacherous women out! They shall be hanged!”
The word sounded as terrible as I was clear and the women broke to a woe Telemachus had never heard before (and, by gods, had he heard enough woe in his house ever since he was a baby!). The screeches and the cries they released along with their already blood-painted hands trying to claw themselves out of the swine herder’s strong grip, nearly made him throw up.
“Father!” he protested, “you can’t be serious! They are just helpless women!”
His father’s onyx eyes stuck within his own and Telemachus felt that same shiver down his spine. There was fire in those obsidian eyes! The same fire of earth that had forged the volcanic glass that gave his eyes their color seemed to be now burning deep inside those black orbs; it was though a cold fire that burnt like the ice burns the skin!
“Is the betrayal of a woman less serious than the betrayal of a man?” his voice was sharp as a broken sword; sharpness you wouldn’t know where it would cut you the worst; the actual blade or the broken tip
“N-No…” Telemachus stammered, “B-But…”
His voice was being drowned by the shrieks of the women. He couldn’t stand it.
“Does the dagger being wielded by a woman draw less blood when it stabs you in the back than the one wielded by a man?”
“Father please!”
“Stay back, Telemachus!” his father commanded, pushing him out of his way, “You are not to see this!”
Telemachus felt his heart clench but he held his ground.
“No, father, I shall help you” he said determined, “If I am to become king of this land, I must help justice prevail!”
His father eyed him once more but Telemachus stood his ground. He was Odysseades Telemachus. He had to live up to his father’s legacy. Odysseus eyed him in wonder for one second but he did not protest his request any further. Part of Telemachus had wished he had. However he knew he had to be strong and stand by his father’s side. The cries of the female voices still haunted his ears as they went out to the trees of the garden. Odysseus pointed towards the direction of one of the trees. Telemachus gulped. He knew that tree. He had played so many times around it when he was a kid! He had named it “Troy” at some point, running around with his horse (in other words a stick he fantasized to be his horse when he was five) and he would yell at the people of Troy to open their gates for him, like he had imagined his father would be doing, on occasions scaring the birds that sat on the branches. As he grew older he would climb and sit on them, joining those birds, and looking over to the horizon as if waiting for a ship to appear, as if waiting to see the sails of the 12 ships of Ithaca arriving.
How weird indeed that Odysseus chose that particular tree for the execution hall to be built behind it! Telemachus never made that connection so strongly before!
As the men dragged the women out to their final spot; behind that said tree lay the dome of court where a small, confided space, where the women tied up with one single piece of rope from the throats like cattle being led for slaughter were crying and moaning. Telemachus felt his stomach turn. Oh, Athena, he prayed silently, please give me strength to do what I must! He felt then a gentle touch upon his shoulder; like the sun warming him with his rays. His racing heart slowed a bit in beat and he breathed in deeply. Yes, he could feel Athena’s reminder of his own strength. Yes, he had to do it. He was his father’s son. No one dared to speak at that moment. Apart from the endless woe of the women that were about to be executed, it almost felt like a macabre ritual that was about to happen. The women were forced to their final resting place; the narrow hall that was closed up by the neatherd and the swineherd. Telemachus held onto the end with both hands and sighed again, feeling weirdly calm. It was as if all his essence had gone numb. He was self-conscious that his father was looking at him. He almost felt him regretful as if he tried to release him from his task but Telemachus made a mechanical move with his head to stop him. I am Odysseiades Telemachus, he thought, this is my duty! Instinctually he looked towards the sky.
“May this be no clean death…” he heard himself whispering, breaking the silence and the cries of the women, “…that I take the lives of these women…for they were wishing for my head…both mine and my mother’s…when they betrayed us and lay with the suitors…”
His father made half a step forward. Telemachus had made his resolve
He threw the rope over the dome and pulled with all his might.
The cries stopped to give their place to chocking sounds.
Telemachus didn’t cry. He only sighed and closed his eyes.
Soon the haunting sounds stopped.
There was only the creaking of the swinging rope…
~ ~ ~
Telemachus chocked and coughed as he threw up the little contents of his stomach behind a bush. How strange, he thought, he didn’t feel the need to do that when he killed all those men he hated by his father’s side and yet he reacted upon an execution he performed with his own hands. It was, maybe, because he always learnt to respect women and protect them. Quite frankly he never raised a hand against a woman before in his life. And now he had, with one fateful move he had removed the lives of 12 women he considered helpless. And yet that moment of clarity it was as if Athena was speaking through him; these women are not innocent, he thought she said to him, they betrayed you and your father, they betrayed your mother’s secrets and led to more torment to her. They conspired to kill you.
“Then why…?” Telemachus thought, “Why was this so difficult?”
He felt two warm, calloused hands on his shoulders and looked up. He faced the tired look of his father’s; his face full of the blood of the victims they had killed. In one moment Telemachus felt self-conscious and realized he could possibly look similar to this. He turned his look away in shame. What would his father think? What would he say for his weakness? Instead, though, he heard him whisper:
“I am so proud of you, my son…” the voice echoed somewhere in his soul, “I understand that was not an easy decision to make…”
“F-Forgive me…f-father…” Telemachus stammered trying to stop the sobs that were chocking him, “I…I wasn’t strong enough…”
“You’re wrong, Telemachus” his voice was whispery and yet adamant, “You are strong, much stronger than any man I have seen so far. I understand the task that I placed upon you was not a pretty one or a pleasant one. And yet you fulfilled it with the bravery that many men didn’t show in thousands of wars. I am proud of you…”
Telemachus realized what had bothered him so much; his father indeed didn’t seem to separate women from men before the ruthless justice he threw upon them. Telemachus was taught to protect and respect women. However when Odysseus arrived at the hall and ordered the demise of 12 women with hardly even blinking disturbed him. How much had he changed? This was not the father that his mother was describing…nay, he wasn’t the father he had met in the hut of the swine herder that embraced him and kissed him like he were his own soul. He saw some of that father he met right now, to the father trying to console him but before? A few minutes prior he saw an executioner; not the father he knew and loved.
“But how much do I know him, really…?” Telemachus realized, “I first saw his face a few days ago… What kind of man is he? Really?”
Odysseus patted his son on his shoulders and helped him straighten himself. They walked past the tree where the women still hanged like doves from a hunter’s stick. Telemachus couldn’t look up at the blackened and bloated faces of death. Not Odysseus. Odysseus looked up steadily and steadfast. There hardly was a reaction on his face apart from a wrinkle playing between his eyes. He seemed tired, sure, he wasn’t feeling pleasure he wasn’t smiling and yet Telemachus wondered; does this man have nerves of steel or a heart of stone to look up so calmly? How much horror had he seen so that this gruesome sight wouldn’t make him avert his eyes?
“How…?” he whispered, “How can you take this…?”
His father was silent for one second until he finally decided to talk.
“One can get awfully accustomed to the face of death…when they have seen so plenty of it…”
His voice was almost dead; as if he was just stating a simple fact such as that the sun rises from the east rather than talking about the lives of people. That rubbed Telemachus in the wrong places even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“Sometimes…” Odysseus continued, “I feel like my heart has turned into stone… Sometimes I feel like it has no more space apart from you Telemachus…”
It took him a few seconds to realize what his father had just said. Perhaps not even Odysseus himself had realized it!
“What about mother, father? What about her?”
There was silence for one second. However that silence seemed to Telemachus more cruel than any other eternity in Hades’s kingdom!
“Father!” he urged
“Of course, your mother too…” Odysseus finally whispered, “I love her more than life itself! I did everything I could so I can come back to her…to you…”
“You doubted her!” Telemachus whispered in cruel realization, “Oh, gods! I don’t believe it! You doubted her! Even after everything she went through for you!”
“No!” Odysseus immediately retorted, “No, I didn’t doubt her! Not really…it is just…”
“Just what? I don’t believe you! After all these years she waited!”
“I know this” Odysseus retorted almost calmly, “Or rather I absolutely know now. However I needed to make sure…beyond any shade of doubt. This is why Athena encouraged me to hide who I was from your mother, even if it tore me apart inside…”
“But…why…?” Telemachus was almost in tears and he was struggling really hard to keep them under control. “Why would you even doubt her so?”
They had spent years on their own and for as long as he could remember his mother was always waiting, crying and expecting a miracle. He didn’t remember one day to see his mother genuinely happy. She was smiling or complimenting his accomplishments but he had never seen her truly happy; all their life was darkened by the shadow of his father’s absence; of the lack of information whether he lived or not and now his father said that he had doubt, no matter how small it was?! Odysseus sighed deeply and looked at his son. His eyes were almost pleading even if his voice was steady.
“Son…” he said gravely, “I spent years out there…years of ordeals and pain and…many of them changed me… I cannot say much…not now…however there was someone…a woman…”
He gulped. He almost seemed ready to cry himself.
“She…she did unspeakable things to me…for years I endured hoping to come back to you and your mother… She…she kept on planting doubts in my head for years… I didn’t believe her…I didn’t want to believe her! And yet…yet all those years… Telemachus I couldn’t do otherwise! My brain was rejecting what my heart knew… And so I had to make these two come together… I had to…! Please! Perhaps one day I will be able to explain to you…and then you will understand…”
His father began walking away but Telemachus, in the heat of adrenaline and battle didn’t seem ready to let go. Not yet.
“Does this have to do with some goddess Calypso?”
His father froze and then he saw him turn around and saw another emotion he never saw before; fear. There was pure terror on his face. All color had left it; his eyes as wide as plates.
“Where did you hear that name!?” his father croaked out, “Telemachus! Where?!”
“Father…” Telemachus was more concerned and surprised than pitiful at that moment, “Look at you! You’re pale! You didn’t turn pallid when you ordered the execution of these women and yet you lost all color at the name of that woman!”
“Telemachus!” Odysseus called out desperately
“Tell me what happened father! What does this woman have to do with this?”
“I can’t!”
“Please tell me! What did that woman do to you to make you doubt your own wife?!”
“I can’t! I CAN’T!” Odysseus’s voice rose in a constant crescendo, he held his head with both hands as if suddenly his head was splitting in two
“Father, please!” Telemachus urged, “Who is that woman? Who is Calypso?”
“Telemachus!” Odysseus grabbed the shoulders of his son
Telemachus nearly whelped feeling the unbelievable strength of those hands, squeezing him in almost bruising grasp but he didn’t make a sound. He stood his ground. He was his father’s son.
“Where did you hear that name?!”
“Y-Your friend told me about it…” Telemachus finally replied, “I traveled, father. I myself tried to find the answers that I was seeking…and in my travels I visited Pylos…and Sparta…there I met your old friend… He said he had a dream in which you were trapped at the island with some goddess Calypso, but he didn’t know more… You remember him, don’t you? Menelaus the king of Sparta…”
“M-Menelaus…”
He took some breaths and he seemed to find his composure. He slowly released his son. Telemachus noticed that indeed some color had returned to his face. How much had that woman done to him to make his father react that way?! How many horrors had this man experienced to the hands of that goddess so that he would turn pale in terror even if he was completely unhinged by more than 100 vigorous men?
“Yes…of course I remember… Menelaus…he was one of my closest friends…in Troy.” That little recollection somehow calmed him down, “I…I haven’t heard of him for years… Th-Thank gods that he is fine…”
“He is in good health from what I could see…” Telemachus couldn’t lie, he didn’t know much on Menelaus but he knew that ‘fine’ was not exactly the word that described him, “He misses you a lot, you know… He didn’t speak with so warm words for anybody else…”
A sad smile spread to Odysseus’s lips.
“I remember… Menelaus was a really dear friend to me…”
He passed his hand over his face to mop some of his sweat.
“Forgive me, Telemachus…I really didn’t want this feeling to be inside me in the first place but…please understand me…that’s all I ask. That and some time… I will explain everything when I can…”
Telemachus breathed in, defeated.
“I will not pressure you, father…” he finally said, “I understand it is hard. Forgive me for insisting… It is just…”
His father’s arms wrapped around him. That moment he stopped being the heartless judge. He was the caring father again..he was the one Telemachus first met; the caring, protective father…
“Please don’t apologize…” he murmured to his son’s ear, “You have every right to be angry…you have so many questions… I promise you, my son, I will do my best to answer them all…just not yet…I can’t…not yet…”
He pulled back and looked at his son’s eyes.
“Okay?”
Telemachus smiled sadly. Suddenly his own accumulated frustration from the events of the day was evaporated. He needed this breakdown and somehow he knew his father needed it too.
“Okay” he nodded in agreement.
Odysseus patted his shoulders.
“Good.” He said, “Let’s go in now and we must order to get ourselves cleaned now. We must, sooner or later, cleanse ourselves from this murder for we both look like we went mad!”
Telemachus scoffed a bit. He began following his father; never daring to look back towards that grim execution place.
“She didn’t ask, you know…” he suddenly said
Odysseus stopped and turned around.
“What?”
“Mother. When I told her about king Menelaus’s vision, she didn’t ask. She didn’t make any inquiries. She didn’t doubt your integrity not even for one second…”
He saw his father’s chest palpitating almost suddenly. His face almost twisted with another unspoken sob. He turned around, showing Telemachus his back.
“Thank you…” he murmured
Telemachus managed to see one tear running down his father’s bloodstained cheek. There was so much behind that silent cry! Telemachus knew his father was keeping many things inside; perhaps he even blamed himself for everything. He didn’t know. He only hoped that with that last comment, he managed to give him some peace of mind. Apparently either he was right or Odysseus was a very good actor indeed, for he was back to his previous steadfast and calm self. He was once more the king.
The King of Ithaca
The Anger Bringer.
***
Not much to say here. Homer said most of it before me.
I found it disturbing and interesting how it was Telemachus the one to pull the rope of the execution so I thought to add a bit ore angst to this and show this aftermath whirlpool of emotions that could be going on inside hm.
And of course Odysseus and the years of torment, especially Ogygia.
Also in the Odyssey Rhapsody 17 Telemachus does mention to his mother how Menelaus saw Odysseus imprisoned by Calypso but Penelope didn't react to it much. She either believed not much of it in her sorrow or at the same time she felt no need to react at the name of another woman because she trusted her husband.
Hope you like it.
#greek mythology#odysseus#the odyssey#tagamemnon#odyssey#homeric poems#telemachus#odysseus and telemachus#odyssey fanfiction#homer odyssey#the odyssey fanfic#the odyssey fanfiction#odyssey fanfic#the 12 maiden execution#the murder of the suitors#homer odysseus#homeric epics#homer's odysseus#homer's odyssey#angst#calypso#menelaus#odysseus and menelaus#odysseus and calypso#odypen#odysseus and penelope#odysseus of ithaca#eumeus#philoetius#ruthlessness
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One of the most valuable things that Lucifer has taught me is that being passionate is a virtue.
Lots of folks think that having bad bitch boss energy means being apathetic and stoic, or being unbothered by things and striking down all your enemies with an ice cold glare. Being unreadable and mysterious and unpredictable in a sexy way. I though that when I started working with Lucifer he would teach me how to be cold and distant so that I could ascend beyond any problem because I’m soooo enlightened.
But he taught me the exact opposite. He taught me not to glare coldly at my enemies, but to look them right in the eyes with sincerity and empathy to understand why they are the way that they are, and how to navigate the situation appropriately. I don’t have to destroy my enemies and conquer all, I must know when someone is toxic to me and be prepared to remove myself from those situations or find ways to navigate them in healthy ways. He taught me that I’m allowed to be mad when people mistreat me, I’m allowed to cry and get frustrated. I won’t yell or hurl insults, I’ll communicate how I feel and ensure that my feelings are heard even if not respected. My emotions and intentions do not have to be a puzzle to those who surround me, I have the power to put the pieces together with my words and actions.
And I will loudly and proudly love the things I love, ramble on and on about my favourite books and shows because he’ll always listen. And smile widely when I see my friends. Be cartoonishly and desperately in love with my partner and cherish him like every day was our last.
I’m allowed to be emotional about things that don’t matter, like a character death in a show I like or dropping my last gummy worm on the carpet. I’m allowed to get excited to see the moon or the sun or my cat. I’m supposed to be.
I don’t have to become a master manipulator who hacks into people’s minds to make them secretly obey me like I’m playing chess. I can become vigilant and detail oriented so I can discern peoples emotions and intentions to better connect with them as people and to offer them support wherever I can. I hope the people around me enjoy my company as a real person, not because they secretly admire and envy me.
I don’t need to be cool and calm and in control of everything just so other people can tell me what a boss bitch I am. I’m allowed to need breaks and ask questions when I’m confused. My dedication to my work and art will speak for itself.
Lucifer, the king, the emperor, the morning star, has always been admired for his incredible beauty and inspiration, but never once did he claim to be perfect. Most beautiful, most prideful, perhaps, but always so with all of his quirks and flaws. Even when he falls, he rises again. His intense loyalty and passion for knowledge is what makes him the light bringer. It never had anything to do with a cold glare or strict attitude, it was always an admiration of his love for his purpose. When the angels of the rebellion followed him it was not because he was cold and cunning, it was because he was an inspiration set ablaze in glory. He was warm and light and passionate.
#lucifer devotee#lucifer deity#luciferian witch#lord lucifer#luciferism#luciferian#lucifer#theistic luciferianism#deity work#deity worship#witchcraft#magick#pagan#paganism#occultism#witch community#witch aesthetic#witchblr#demonology#grimoire
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"Do NOT push it. I gave pass because I knew most of that trial was hog water but, we have keep peace down here in hell. If your ACTIONS EVER cause another trial like this. I will person make your death as PAINFUL as possible. Am I clear with you?" He huffed out flames and let out sigh.
"You wanna be more then you are. Do it right way. You got talent. I seen it. Don't waste it because ya mad about your lot in the world."
℧ :: @justiceiswrath / ❤️
【𐂃】 ❝ —so no hard feelings amirite? — we cool, Sir? ❞
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Too Close ( A @jttw-monkeybusiness Fanfic)
So this started as one thing and then It grew its own will and became another. I hope you enjoy!
TW: Blood and Gore- Violence as well. If these make you squeamish or can trigger you please read my other works instead!
It was supposed to just be a meal- a simple outing to the market square to buy up some noodles at a shop stand Pigsy had seen on the way through. It was supposed to be simple, easy day.
The market stall exploded in a shower of wood and porcelain as the monstrous thing rose from the stand. Sophie rolled, dodging the flying debris as best she could. A sliver of wood cut across her cheek but she felt nothing. Her mind only had one thing in it.
Oh shit that’s a massive snake.
But it wasn’t a snake. The head that toward from the market as the rest of the villagers fled, resembled a snake. It’s slitted eyes blinked and forked tongue tasted the air. Heat rippled outward from its body. The grasses dried in the damn soil. The earth that had moments ago been anointed with summer rain, cracked and snapped brittle in the sudden heat. Sophie felt her lips dry and her face chap in the change of temperature.
A grunt from nearby. Sophie turned to see Sandy rise from a cast off wall, a huddle Tripitaka in his arms. The snake head swayed, tongue tasting. It snapped its focus to Sandy and coiled its head back. A maw of pink and long silver teeth flew forward. The disciple threw up the discarded wall just in time for the things great teeth to be buried into wood instead of Flesh. Trip was no fool and at Sandy’s nod, escaped beneath his arm.
Sophie could hear Pigsy howling curses nearby from somewhere. The dust was still settling, the dried earth kicked upward as more of the things body was revealed. Fuck it had wings. Four black leathery wings grew from its back at disjointed angles. They beat unevenly. Their wind threw dirt and rocks into the air. The feel of it stung Sophie’s cheek. The Monk reached her then- hand outstretched. She caught it and he hauled her up off the dirt.
Run. Her heart seemed to thrash in her chest. Sophie saw more of the beast being revealed from the ruins of the market. An impossibly long coiled body- legs- more clawed legs. Six of them?- juxtaposed throughout its flesh at odd angles. She felt like she was moving too slow. Moving as if her blood was full of ice.
Those eyes blinked and the pupil widened. Sandy held the things face in his hands, the wooden wall king destroyed. The River demon strained as the thing bore down on him, all saliva and flashing fangs.
It could swallow him whole. Sophie felt a cold shiver run down her back as Trip and her fled. There was nothing either of them could do. They were mortals. This thing was beyond their ken. Beyond their ability. And it could swallow us whole.
Of course fleeing targets attract more attention then prey standing still. The great demonic beast of droughts shook off the irritable ant holding its fangs and dipped its head. The scent had been with the little thing before it but … it had moved. It smelled delectable. The tongue whipped out again, seeking. There- among the fleeing mortals this monster had disdainfully had been serving for the past years in hopes of devouring in return- was the taste. It was a man- a man hand in hand with a women. Two for the price of one. There was an irritable pain at its side but the Drought Bringer simply flicked one of its long claws and flapped its wings higher.
Into the air it rose- away from the sting of the weapons. The town with its simple huts and mud wall fell away. The demon rose up and angled itself. Heat radiated off, burring away the cloud cover and killing trees and greens all around it.
The monk would not get too far.
It coiled.
And struck out.
Sophie and Tripitaka were almost beyond the wall and into the rice fields. The heat had dried those up, killing crops and scattering the water into vapour. Villagers- merchants and Mothers, field workers and Fathers- all streamed to the exits.
They were almost out.
Sophie felt a prickle of fear, a new wave of apprehension swell in her mind. For what- for why- she didn’t know. What made Sophie turn her head then, to look back, she would never know. But she was glad for whatever spirit, god, or instinct made her look back.
A maw full of silvered fangs, of needle tips curved back and outward. An avalanche of heat and horror. She reacted and threw herself sideways. Tripataka, still holding her hand, was dragged with her.
The serpent struck the earth, sending an earthquake outward. Buildings shivered and collapsed. Children screamed and mothers called out. Sophie pulled the monk up beside her, trying to get him to rise. They didn’t have much time. She had bought them but a moment, but a second. They had to move had to get the fuck out of there.
“Trip get up-“ Sophie begged. The monk was trying- it looked like he had twisted something in his leg at the sudden fall. Up up up up up up get up please.
A angry hiss as the earth cracked more. The demon raised its head. It’s mouth was full of stone and dirt. And a few dangling limbs. The creature dropped these and angled it’s head again. It’s body coiled, it’s clawed and displaced legs curling.
Their second was up.
Sophie couldn’t look away- she wanted to- but it was the same feeling a rabbit, over exhausted and run down, experiences when cornered by a fox. The sense of frozen dread. She could no more look away then the rabbit could overcome its fear.
Of course the human mind is a strange thing for the only thing that Sophie could think on was, We didn’t even get to eat the damn noodles we paid for.
Something flashed, a glitter a bit above the serpents head. Like the flash of a moth wing in moonlight.
Wha—
A pillar of black and gold materialized where the flash had been. Such a small insignificant staff.
Sophie knew that staff.
The staff elongated over the monsters head. It slammed straight into the back of the snakes skull. The sound of iron against bone rang in the sky like a thunderclap. The demon cried in confusion and pain- an unholy scream that sent the air to shaking. The staff drove the things face down into the soil, just feet away from Sophie and Tripataka. Bones snapped, the sound of scale cracking beneath the iron rod as it drove down, down, down, down. The earth cracked with the impact.
The pressure was too great. The hide split as the earth could not give anymore and blood came in a spray of red.
The demon, the great Drought Bringer, rolled a bloodshot eye upward. A iron rod ? Was that what fell it ? Something so insignificant. A shadow loomed from the sunlight. Feet pressed on the demons head.
The demon knew this creature - this mild looking and bored Monkey- and felt the contents of its stomach turn to water. Those eyes slashed downward, making the serpent flinch.
The burning heat in this demons gaze—
Sun Wukong knelt on the dying beasts skull the iron staff of Ruyi Jingu Bang resting across one shoulder. Those yellow eyes went from flaming to disinterested as the demonic monkey looked at the mortals.
“I told you the market was a bad idea.”
The blond haired women who had avoided the great Drought Bringers strike, shot up on her legs from the rubble.
“ARE you SERIOUS?!”
“I am. I told you all it was a bad idea.”
“You couldn’t have said that there was a demonic flying snake?!?”
“Do you think the bastard pig would have listened to me if I had ?” Wukong huffed. He swung a foot languidly off the side of the serpents skull. Wukong tapped the golden circlet on his brow. “I would have gotten another headache by this dumb band.”
“WUKONG A WHOLE TOWN WAS DESTROYED!”
“Bah.” He waved his hand at that. “It was gonna be destroyed. This beast wouldn’t have waited any longer to eat again.”
The foot pressed into the gore in the back of the demons spine and a half gasp, half cough, of pain exhaled from between broken jaws. The serpent didn’t remove its eye from the Demon king above it.
It had heard stories. Legends of five hundred years ago when it had been but a hatchling, of a monkey of stone waging war against Heaven. Of almost succeeding in bending that great power into a kowtow.
“WUKONG WE ALMOST GOT SWALLOWED WHOLE BY A FUCKING BIG ASS SNAKE.” Sophie retorted.
“Naw. I had it all under control.” Wukong tapped the edge of his staff now onto the creatures head.
“Though it is taking awhile to die…”
The serpent felt the monkey lean forward. The burning gaze was back now that the simian wasn’t staring at the women.
“Tougher than I thought you were.” His voice had become softer. “Survive a blow - even to just bleed out like a bloody hog- is no easy feat with my staff.”
The pressure from his clawed feet pricked the broken scales long the serpents skin. Those claws were drawing blood. The monkey leaned down to whisper almost sweetly.
“You never were going to get your fangs into them you disgusting worm. Wanna know why? Because I’m Sun Wukong. I am the Great Sage. And your Tale-” the weight of the monkey felt oppressive, his claws digging harder into the tender broken scales. “-your insignificant little blip in history is at an end.”
The monkey foot was the last thing the serpent, the Feiwei, saw before the staff was driven down again into its eye. The blindness as the pupil exploded under the contact and the sharp pain as the staff drove through the eye socket and into the recesses of the skull were the serpents last feelings.
Demonic minds were not like mortals. They did not flit between two threads of disconjointed emotions. The Feiwei knew it’s end and bitterly died.
The demon gave a final strangled gasp as it twitched once, twice and then was no more. The remaining demons eye rolled in its head. Crimson blood wept from the exposed eye socket and the broken skull. It mixed with the dirt to make a black patch in the soil. At the serpents death the air stopped its dry repression and eased in its intense heat.
Wukong stepped off lightly from the dead serpents head. His feet crossed through the bloody wake and up to Sophie who still stood, a bit dumbfounded, over Tripataka.
That was brutal. Sophie thought.
Then her body remembered itself and her stomach seized at the scent of demon blood. Bile burned up the back of her throat.
Please please please don’t throw up. That was the last thing she needed. Sophie pulled Tripataka up.
The monk hissed and winced as his weight tried to take his foot. And crumpled.
“Is it broken?” Sophie worried. She didn’t see any tears in the skin- any blood. Blood.
Again she fought a wave of nausea. The back of the demons neck had been cut wide open- almost as if obliterated- by a single strike. The trauma of the loss of so much bodily mass to a central location, the skull, had been enough to kill it but it had lived on. Just long enough for Wukong to stab it in the eye.
“Not … not broken. Just sprained.” Trip smiled, sweat building on his brow. “Sophie .. thank —“
Tripatakas words died on his throat as he disciple came into full view. And he blanched.
“Stupid beast.” Wukong picked his claws, flicking some of the blood free from their tips. The stone monkey was absolutely painted in crimson, having delivered the blow and standing behind the beast as it fell. Dark ichor dripped from the side of his face, matting the fur in places that the blood was thickest in.
“See Master ?” Wukong grinned- not helping the two mortals as they both struggled with their aversions: Tripataka for violence and Sophie for blood.
“I almost died ….” Trip muttered, the shock coming over him then.
“There there Trip.” Sophie soothed - but she sounded wooden as she also felt her stomach heave. Gods and spirits the blood stank.
“Why does everything bad happen to me?”
“It’s ok Trip.”
“Why is it always devouring they try and accomplish?! Buddha it’s breath stank of rot.”
“Most human eating demons don’t have pretty breath.”
Wukong, oblivious or willfully blind to the mortal dilemmas unfolding before him, swaggered closer.
“Well! That’s another monstrosity down. Solved with violence.” Wukong barred his teeth. His mood was improved from when they had first arrived and none had taken his warning seriously. Not even Sophie. That was an insult. She was lulled in by Pigsy who kept regaling all with the tales of this unique little village.
Utter drivel. Wukong had seen real food wonders- Hell he came from the most fruitful mountain in the world! What could some boiled water and limp noodles compare to the tastes of flower fruit mountain?
Wukong turned, leaning against his staff as he rested it against the ground. “Sophie did ya see that ?”
“Yes.” Her voice was tight as she watched the blood drip off Wukong.
“You didn’t throw up?” He inquired with a flash of teeth.
“… no I didn’t.” Her stomach kept trying to make her mouth open up but Sophie was stronger then that.
“HA! Soft women don’t lie! You look just as pale as when that thing was diving at you!” Wukong laughed, his tail twitching in humor. “How would either of you get by without me?”
“Wukong maybe nows not the time—“ Sophie tried but was brushed over as Wukong puffed his chest up and grinned all the wider.
“I, the great Sun Wukong have saved my master again. Did I not do a great job dispatching the beast for you master ?” It was half mock, half fishing for compliments. He did just slay a demonic multi limbed serpent out of the sky.
“Wukong…”
“Not even praise ?!” Well that was dreadfully disappointing. He expected some sort of good job from the monk.
Sophie wanted to roll her eyes. Can’t he read the room?
“Wukong you did a fantastic job!” Sophie would try and smooth things over. While also not suffering from her flipping stomach. “Amazing. It’s just the — the blood— it stinks. Worse then normal. —“
“I know you are thankful because you have decent sense but I want to hear it from him!”
At this moment Tripataka stood straight suddenly. He calmly limped to one of the bushes. And promptly vomited.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Wukong huffed, irritable even in the hot springs warmth. He had a bucket in one hand and a washboard in the other, and had scrubbed the blood free of his clothes. Pants, shirt, tiger skin- it all had to be washed. Of course Wukong had pilfered some soap awhile back from the Market square the Pilgrims had passed through. He had set to work, scrubbing and pulling and worrying over the clothing until it was clean. He knew he had to clean it. He took pride in his looks and decorum. Wukong would have gone to the spring naturally on his own in time.
Wukong twitched the edge of his tail annoyed.
He was aware he was a bit unkempt after saving Sophie and Tripataka from the Feiwei. He had just batted the thing out of the air into the earth. There was bound to be blood and gore after a swing like that. Sophie had given him a brief berating of getting himself cleaned up- and when he had asked and demanded for what was rightly his - praise, thanks, AT LEAST A YOUR WELCOME- Sophie had promised him that she would lavish him in praise if he would just get clean.
Fine. If his Master wouldn’t spoil him in praise and was currently giving his attention to Sandy then the Monkey would wheedle it out of Reader.
Wukong sunk lower into the water, thinking. He hadn’t let the group go into the town without him. Though he had threatened and grumbled and said “fuck that” Wukong had set a double to follow from above, watching. Of course the Pig would follow his nose to the demons lair. Of course he would assure the others that there was no way this could be a demon.
Wukong swore the Pig was out to get them killed half the time.
Well the rest was predictable. As soon as that wiggling worm had taken one sniff of the monk, he had grown all greedy and hungry and hadn’t been able to keep its human disguise.
Wukong had the whole situation under control though- it had just - taken him a moment to wake up from his dozing. The snake had gotten a bit close. Maybe the invisible double had shoved the two mortals just a bit too hard. That twisted ankle of the Monks would take some time to heal. Luckily the village headman had given the group his home- a little but set back into a bit of shaded pine and with its own hot spring - to rest und for as long as needed. And while Wukong had endured the grating reprimand of Pigsy at being late, the monkey had felt a bit smug. His deeds had scored them nice lodgings.
Wukong wouldn’t care about where they slept. The Monkey King could simply find a nice patch anywhere and curl up. The boon I’m his cap though was the absolute excited light sweep into Sophie’s eyes at the mention of beds and pillows and a roof over their head.
Wukong pulled himself out of the water, the steam rising off of his body in the twilight air. It had been enough time since him washing his clothes to his longs soak that, in the summer sun, had dried enough. Maybe not the shirt but his trousers had. The rest would have to wait till morning. Wukong had a Reader to annoy now.
Sophie was in heaven. After the hellish day of demonic snakes and almost getting devoured, Sophie was comfortable and cozy and all too happy to rush to the futon that had been dragged into the center of her little room.
A bed. Clean clothes. A full belly. The horror of the day was an echo but it was still there. If she closed her eyes she could still hear it- still smell the hot breath blasting across their faces.
A knock on her door had her start from the memory.
Who’s that ?
It wouldn’t be Pigsy. The man had passed out hours ago after the steamed buns and broth the village headman had left for them. Maybe it was Sandy? That didn’t seem likely since he was currently nursing Tripitakas twisted ankle. It would be better after the swelling went down.
Did Wukong really take me up on my offer of praise?
“READER OPEN THE DOOR.”
Yep. There was only one stone monkey that sounded that annoyed yet still knocked with the politeness. Sophie stepped to the door and opened it.
And stared just a little.
She had been expecting to see a fully clothed Sun Wukong leaning against her door. What she hadn’t been expecting was a half dressed Wukong with his arms crossed over his chest. And emphasizing that he most certainly did not have a shirt on.
“Where’s your shirt?” Brilliant Sophie. Blurt the first thing that comes to mind. Wukong pushed off the doorframe and past her into the room, giving her a clear view of his pecs, his shoulders, his back.
Pull it together girl and get your mind out of the gutter.
“I had to clean it since you and the monk threw a sick fest at a little bit of blood.” The monkey sat down, crossing his legs beneath him. At least he knows how to make himself comfortable.
“Right…” Sophie watched as Wukong began to slide his fingers through the wet fur along his back, beside his face and over his arms. Grumbling as his nails seemed to catch and pull in the longer bits of his fur. Wukong flexed his arms to reach a spot. The ripple of muscle along his back was unexpected.
Sophie felt her face flame up. I’m glad he’s so wrapped into himself because if he saw what I looked like right now—
“Well I’m clean now but my fur is all snarled.” He snapped. The monkey was currently struggling with a knot of fire at the base of his neck.
“I have a brush you can borrow.” Anything to get my head out of that space and back in line with normal thinking. She crossed the mats and grabbed her bag. Sophie plucked her brush free from its place, walking back to Wukong. She was a bit startled he was watching her, his eyes half closed in thought.
“You know what… this wouldn’t have happened if you had just followed my warning women.”
“What?”
“A mess is what you and Pigsy and Trip caused.” Wukong leaned his head back and let the water still clinging to his fur, drip downward. “All because you didn’t listen to the warning I gave.”
What was she supposed to do? Sophie had been hungry, had been just as trusting of Pigsys judgment of what was mortal and what was maligned hungry demonic pretending to be mortal. She tried to pass the brush to Wukong, hoping that if she gave him what he wanted he would leave off his snippy comments.
The monkey raised an eyebrow at the brush.
“You can take it ya know- it’s as good as any comb you have.” Sophie lifted the brush and ran it through her hair in demonstration. Hers was a simple hairbrush with short bristles and a worn handle from use.
“Back on the mountain many female members of my kingdom would kowtow and beg for a chance I’m about to give you.” Wukong said.
Chance ?
The monkey king closed her hands over the handle. He turned, setting his hands on his knees as his back faced her now. “Not everyone gets the chance I am giving you- so be grateful.”
“You want me to… brush you?”
“Brush my fur.” It was more command then question.
“Alright.”
Sophie began at the tops of his shoulders. The short bristled brush caught in the hair and slide free, leaving it untangled. Wukongs fur was thick enough to be like her own hair and the brush carefully and methodically by Sophie’s hand, worked through the thickest patches of fur. At places she would have to switch to a comb, one Wukong slid soundlessly from his pocket and passed back to her. This was strangely nice… if not a bit intimate. The constant motion of the brush, of the task, was helping her still jittery mind calm and work through the events that had led up to them being here in a house. With her grooming Wukong.
“When did you know about the demon?” It came tumbling from her mouth before she could stop it.
“As soon as we came upon the village.” Wukong answered. He had his eyes closed, tail swaying against the wooden floor. “The townspeople stank of demon. Seems that beast has been feeding them up to try and cultivate some souls.”
“Sounds like how some insects raise other bugs” Like how ants raise aphids.
“Or like how mortals raise cattle.” Wukong commented.
“Mmm” Sophie felt her mind run through the memories again. The serpent lashing out- and her ability to drag Trip out of the way of that strike. Of the great snake lifting it’s head from the broken earth. Of it lunging a second time. We both could have been dead so fast. No one would have known. Wukong had been left behind, Pigsy had been thrown off somewhere. Only Sandy knew what may have happened to them. Sophie’s brushing slowed.
A snap of fingers made her blink out of the memories.
“Speak.”
“Speak?”
“Don’t parrot me.” Wukong opened his eye just a fraction to shoot her a glare. “ Something on your mind, you stupid women. Spit it out.”
“I thought… I thought we were dead..”
“You would have been if I hadn’t come!” Wukong reached back and took her hand in his. The Monkey king moved the brush up to his head where the fur was in a most disheveled state. Sophie started to gently untangle it, careful of how hard or how fast she worked. He may be able to burst from fires and come away without any lacerations but he may not take kindly to a mortal carelessly tugging at his fur. The wet strands moved slowly through the bristles as he talked. “Makes you want to take heed of a Kings words hmm?”
For all his boasting and puffing up, for all his prideful japes and comments… he almost had been too late. If she hadn’t yanked Trip. If they hadn’t run … “You almost weren’t there though…”
“Sophie.”
“Yea?”
He was turned about, facing her dead on before she could blink. Wukongs yellow eyes looked over her then. Little scrapes here and their. No major cuts. Except for the still red and puffy slice along her cheek. Wukong reached forward and ran a thumb over the slice. I should have sent more then one invisible douple.
“You wouldn’t have been eaten.” He would lessen her worry, and reaffirm his abilities. Had she forgotten? He was Sun Wukong- no demon could stop him. “I wouldn’t have let it happen. I would have torn the bastard apart before it got even a flick of spit on you. You or the monk.”
And next time I’ll make sure I leave them with two invisible doubles instead of one.
Sophie had frozen when he brushed his hand across her face. He was being kind, sensing her turmoil over it all. She was about to say something in kind, something to match that kindness.
“It’s my duty to protect the weak mortals on this quest. It would reflect badly on me as King of Flower Fruit Mountain if I let those under my care get devoured by some slimy worm.” Of course he couldn’t resist the opportunity to flaunt his importance.
“That almost sounds like reassurance.” Sophie sighed. She raised the brush up again in silent question.
“It is reassurance.” He affirmed. Wukong nodded once at the brush, spinning back around. “No harm comes to those that are in my care.”
“Well. Then if it only takes brushing your fur for that… I would be happy to do it every night.”
Wukongs tail gave a little flick. They spent the rest of the night talking, trading quips and jokes. As the of cicadas from beyond the doors blended with the soft swish of the brush, a feeling of contentment and camaraderie fell between the two. And something … more grew.
#hcwrites#hcfanfics#writing stuff#for jttw monkeybuisness#ITS DONE#I feel like I could polish and spiff it a bit more but if I did I’m afraid I would end up with 20 pages instead of the 16 this is#THIS FIC WAS SUPPOSED TO GO IN A DIFF DIRECTION SO THE NAME IT ORIGINALLY HAD DIDNT FIT#this is what happens when I wanna write big old monster and such#jttw MONKEYBUISNESS#jttw tag#sun wukong#sophie x Wukong#Wukong#sun wukong x reader#poor trip I felt so bad for the man#I DIDNT WRITE TOO MUCH PIGSY INTO HERE BECAUSE HE WOULD HAVE BEEN TALKING AND RIPPING WUKONG AND THAT WOULD HAVE ADDED TO THE PAGE LENGTH#I will include him in the next one more#THIS ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT THEIR COMFORT FOODS#or their fave foods but it became something else.#sometimes that’s how it works#I listened to the ‘For the Throne’ albumin that was made for Game of thrones#ALBUMNIN?!? ALBUM YOU STUPID PHONE - I ain’t going back to fix mah spelling error PFTT I’m too far in#jttw au#jttw fanfic#did I talk about pretty backs ? maaaaaybeeee#maaaaybeee that’s my weakness#maybe you can’t prove it’s not just mine but OTHER peoples weakness as well#👀#in my defence Kiri draws muscles a little TOOO tempting#just like another person does and it ain’t fair man.
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Hi, Hi, I'm Nymh, a cresselia documenting some of the weirdest dreams I encounter while doing my Legendary work I use she/her pronouns and I enjoy daydreaming myself. My stuff is tagged with Daydreamer Nymh
I have a Twin Brother a Darkrai called Kell he'll be around on occasion his stuff will be tagged with "Nightmare Bringer Kell"
//OOC Hi, hi, this is @lunaphoenix221 of @lunas-galaxy back at it again with another blog
//this blog this time around is a blog inspired by @/one-time-i-dreamt, which, if you aren't familiar, is a dream submission blog where you can submit your weird dreams for the world to see. That is how this blog will work, but it's all ic with pokeirl people
//I do, however, have some submission guidelines
Submission guidelines
I want this blog to be fun for everyone, so no NSFW dreams are allowed to be submitted, Suggestive stuff is fine, but please, I beg, keep it PG-13 at the most
You can submit Nightmares, those are the ones Kell will post. Try not to be overly gruesome, and please tag submissions with triggers with the appropriate trigger warnings
Anyone is welcome here regardless of canon. This is here to be fun and silly.
Please, no, anon hate, especially regarding dream submissions from other members of the community, because if these people are like me, they are really proud of what they are submitting.
I may do themed submission events for specific holidays, I will give them specific tags if you want to avoid those
And I think that's it, I hope you guys have fun and enjoy this blog it was just a very silly idea I had.
#legendary pokemon#daydreamer nymh#nightmare bringer kell#pokemon#pokeblogging#pokeblr#pokeblog rp#irl pkmn#pkmn irl#rotomblr#rotumblr
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:[ @malicedarkened asked : Exploding into the pendant with plumes of smoke and chaos, Mist rushed at his brother. Grasping at his arms desperately with a wild and bared expression. "Astral-! I have- there's- something happened." (( nDBGH tosses a dramatic boi * )) ]:
“ Brother?! “
Astral’s aura flared, grabbing hold of his brother as it poured forward, order to calm the flames of chaos. He let him cling on, wrapping his arms around him as he rubbed a hand along his back for a moment before carefully pushing back to look his brother from head to toe.
“ What has happened? Are you alright?? “
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“ I mean- what else are you gonna use it for? Nothin’s gonna happen ! Besides, if something does happen me and Astral will handle it! “
"Yuma? I'd rather not waste my energy turning into...that unless you really..But even then.."
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““Kate Middleton dubbed 'chaos-bringer of humiliation and mockery' as 'shining star' fades” and just like that under the bus Kate Middleton goes! I hope she remembers this, I hope she remembers how she was recovering from surgery the tabloids started attacking her. I hope she remembers this next time she starts running her mouth about her biracial SiL.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Kate was horrifically abused by the media, no one’s denying that, what disgusts me however is that when she saw the same thing happen to Meghan she turned a blind eye because it gave her good publicity as the fragile flower who the angry black woman made cry.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Meghan should change her ringtone to Karma (feat. Ice Spice)” - Submitted by Anonymous
“When Meghan instructed KP staff to redo their work because it was subpar, they colluded with the Rota to smear her as a bully. Now the entire world is seeing exactly what she saw.” - Submitted by Anonymous
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❄️Ishani The Dragon 2024 Redraw!❄️
Hello everyone! I know drawings have been slow this month, especially new ones. But today I remade one of my older character designs who needed it! I hope to do this with other designs I'm unhappy with, but that will be future me's issue lol. Anyways you can read more about her down here, and I'll be posting more art really soon! Thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you like her! ^3^
Ishani is a dragon oc I made in 2022, and she is the bringer of Winter. She and her assistants bring winter to all of Moebius. For a ruler, she's very aloof. She's often very sassy, and snappy. She often gets into arguments with the bringer of spring, Prince Sakura. Despite her age, she's quite immature. Her younger brother Dominic, and the bringer of autumn Asher, often keep her in line. Sometimes she gets some backlash from her people, for making everything cold. But she doesn't let that get her down. Her crystal pendant on her chest helps her summon, and control the snowy weather. Other than her pendant, she can breathe ice and frost. Her favorite thing to do is play with her number one assistant, in the snow all day long, Thayer The Dragon.💙☃️
#sonic fandom#sonic#sonic the hedgehog#sonic series#sth#sonic fan character#sonic oc#sonic au#sonic fanart#sonic art#sonic original character#Dragon#dragon oc#dragon ocs#sth oc#sth oc art#sth ocs#oc character#oc stuff#my ocs#my ocs <3#ocs#original character#oc art#oc artwork#sth art#small artist#sonic fan art#art#artists on tumblr
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Crossroads/Crossroads Carnival AU headcanons(with some additional Skylor)
Skylor is the one who gives the pictures of the Ninja to the Memorial Tent. At the end of the week/night she'll come by and get the pictures back with her spirit, Umber( Utahraptor companion)
She's avoided being inside the Memorial Tent, for personal reasons that is. Even with some friends saying that she should at least see the guys there. She's politely declined always, saying she's busy with the shop or busy with personal chores.
(Before The Merge, her and Kai had shared a moment where they held hands- he offered her some of his power just in case she needed to defend others or herself.. he never came back, and she's refused to use fire, her ability to tap into it fading over the years. She's never been good with loss).
Brad Tudabone managed survive The Merge with his family, and they're the ones who bring the flowers- all of them a mix of different kinds. But generally most people will offer white and red roses. Though there are some other kinds in there too- he'll often stop by at Lloyds, talking for a little bit about what he's done and how he is... He doesn't stay long after that.
Any of the more elderly residents who survived The Merge came together, leaving photos and little statues of Wisp, Flame, Shard and Rocky. Each one by the respective Ninja(Jay, Kai, Zane and Cole) with Ultra Dragon resting underneath Lloyd's statue.
Pixal's there too, the little people of Ninjago recalling her- Skylor happily supplying a photo of her in the Samurai X gear. Her portrait beside Nya's, where lanterns with little notes sat, some hanging off and others surrounding her. For those that remember her too.. a water painted iteration of her Sea Dragons hangs below her.
Geckles primarily tell the story of Lilly, the hero of the Geckles and Munce who battled against Grief-Bringer with her Drake; Sierra. Using puppets hand crafted to tell the story to the kids who watch. The tale ends with the Drake succumbing to his wounds after the climax of his and Lilly's struggle- the hero leaving the mountain shortly after in grief and pain besides selling foods such as cave moss from artifical caves nearby they've managed to grow. Other Geckles hold trivia games for those that wish to test their memory.
Munce hold strength competitions in different games (as seen in the show), and most of their games are generally very action based much like the Formlings- who set up obstacles courses for humanoids and spirits alike. They share stories of their home realm, the spirits of the different regions and their experiences.
The few Ice Fisher's that ended up like many other factions tell their stories, of Wojira and more. Merlopians who managed to snag enough of a catch set them up in little kiddie pools where everyone can come get fish to either eat or keep as pets. (Merlopians do in fact make sure to inform the catchers however).
Serpentine hold plays and dances- in fact there's a whole outdoor stage at the Carnival grounds! Renacting event's and ficitonal stories, letting dancers and orchestra's come to show..
People post Merge were losing hope, those who knew the Ninja personally going, knocking- waiting for a response.. and leaving with none.
Skylor never visited The Monastery once.
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“ Speaking of Acting Weird actually.. have you talked to shark recently? “
"She always like this, oh and tell Astral that i say hi to him too." Rio said when she smiled softly
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Hi there! Can you do arctic fox and/or tundra wolf npts? (Side note: You could also do cait sidhe but that's just my linktype so I'm not that connected to it) Also you're super cool especially your art like you are so good at art(≧(エ)≦ )
*Arctic fox NPTS!
Names/Nicknames
Snowy, Fang, Snow, Blizzard, Kit, Fox, Fennec, Snowflake, Flake, Chris, Kris, Holly, Berry, Storm, Stormy, Stormi, Frost, Frosty, Ice.
Pronouns
Fox/Foxself, Arctic/Arcticself, Snow/Snowself, Blizzard/Blizzardself, Storm/Stormself, Kit/Kitself, Snowstorm/Snowstormself, Snowfake/Snowflakeself, Paw/Pawself, Claw/Clawself, Tail/Tailself, Fang/Fangself, Frost/Frostself, Ice/Iceself, 🦊/🦊self, ❄️/❄️self, 🐾/🐾self.
Titles
Storm Bringer, Frost Bitten, Fox (pronoun), Clawed Being, Snow Heart, Icey, Frosted Over.
*I hope you like these!
#horror sans rambles#fictionkin#horror sans kin#therian#utmv kin#otherkin things#au kin#therianthropy#therian community#therian stuff#therians#canine theriotype#canine therian#fox therian#nonhuman things#therian things#therianthrope#theriomythic#theriotype#theriantropy#foxkin#fox kin#fox#arctic fox#arctic fox therian#arctic fox kin#canine#otherkin community#otherhearted#other kin
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