#:[ BRINGER OF HOPE : IC ]:

[fatestouch]

"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~..."

[forhope]

   Thats..  A  Sight  He  Doesnt  Like..

[justiceiswrath]

"Mid-range can get little blurry times but, that is usually when I just focus vision in the lower set to help that. As for how blurry is close range? Hm...a few feet can get little rough if I have my lower set closed. I can blink them separately. Because of my magical nature and dragon genes. Each eye can blink move by itself. But, I prefer to make sure both sets are working together. Take in alot of sensory data by focusing my eyes in different places can be alot." He happily answer. "It's no trouble at all my dear. May I ask how your eyes work as well?"

continued from here with @justiceiswrath

"Well whoot happens if yer lookin' at somet'in note super close or note super far? Is mid ranged vision blurry loike how close range is blurry fer a distance predator? Whoot happens wit' eye strain? blinking? Can each pair werk separately from tae ot'er? Ah'm sorry ah'm trying tae see how someone else wit eye loike ours compares."

[perfectlyoongi]

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.”

[katerinaaqu]

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.

[cultkinkcoven]

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.

[justiceiswrath]

"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..."

[forhope]

   :[  @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??  “

[cresselias-dream-journal]

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.

[justiceiswrath]

"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? ❞

[royal-confessions]

““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

[cyborgpuppyofficial]

❄️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.💙☃️

[fiberturkey89]

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.

[papsiguesss]

i wanna cross my interests over so bad and its driving me whacky bonky. So What do you think Michael's favourite pokemon would be? (And James's too why not?) :3

Omg that’s such a fun question!!! I LOOOOOOVE Pokèmon too so I couldn’t come up with just one Pokèmon, so I made them both full teams 🤭🤭🤭

So for Michael, I went with the theme of Pokèmon that could function as emotional support. I ended up choosing:

- Alolan Vulpix: I wanted to have one of his mons represent the emotional support dog that he receives from James later on in the fixit storyline. No fire types for obvious reasons, and ice type fits well with the puppy’s name Peppermint, so that would be my doggo pick! (I know Vulpix is technically a fox but they’re just so cuuuuute!! Also a lot of the other dog mons looked too aggressive for Michael imo)

- Espeon: I wanted to give both of them an Eeveelution, plus there are dex entries talking about it being protective of its trainer which Michael could definitely use: ‘Espeon is extremely loyal to any Trainer it considers to be worthy. It is said that this Pokémon developed its precognitive powers to protect its Trainer from harm.’ (ORAS dex). Plus, Michael is a kind enough soul to manage to evolve his pokemon through friendship.

- Swoobat: another friendship evo, and a bringer of positive vibes according to its White dex entry! ‘Anyone who comes into contact with the ultrasonic waves emitted by a courting male experiences a positive mood shift.’ Plus, look at the little fuzzy guy it’s so cute and perfect to cuddle with!

- Espurr: this was one of the first ones that came to mind, and ngl, it’s mostly because Espurr does the Autism Stare™️. 🤣 To be fair though, I feel like Michael would have a fondness for Psychic-types since they could help regulate his vulnerable mind and since Espurr has to constantly keep its psychic powers under control I feel like Michael would take one under his wing so he can take extra good care of them, since he understands what it’s like to struggle with one’s mind ☺️

- Komala: this was my first thought actually! Idk, its rocking back and forth kinda looks like stimming and I feel like its calm sleeping nature would be comforting for our boy.

- And lastly, Stufful! Stufful is meant to represent a stuffie and I thought it’d be a perfect fit for Michael given it could represent a mental support plushie. 😊

(I didn’t give Michael a classic starter because I don’t think he would have ever had ambitions to use his Pokèmon for battle so he wouldn’t have started his Pokèmon team in the ‘traditional’ sense.)

For James, I also went with emotional support Pokèmon but more in the way of supporting others as opposed to himself, and marine Pokèmon (part of his backstory that I hope to reveal soon). So I ended up choosing:

- Cubone: idk, I thought it’d be cute if James discovered a sad Cubone near his work and seeing that its mother recently died he took it home to temporarily nurse it back to health but it decided to stay instead. I think it perfectly fits with James’ caring nature 🥰

- Ralts: it has multiple dex entries talking about how it can sense other’s emotions, and I thought that that could be very useful for James given his job as a psychiatrist.

- Buizel: it is an expert diver and the sacks near its neck represent a life jacket, which would make it a perfect partner Pokèmon for James before he became a psychiatrist. Can’t reveal too much about that yet though 😇🫢

- Sylveon: it has multiple dex entries talking about its ribbons resonating a soothing aura, which would work perfectly as a mental support Pokèmon for James’ patients! Plus, it evolves from affection which illustrates James’ kind nature and it is also regarded as a more ‘feminine’ Pokèmon, which correlates well with James having a more sensitive nature than is expected of him (to the grievances of his father).

- Comfey: I wanted to pick a healer Pokèmon that wasn’t the traditional Chansey or Audino, so I decided upon Comfey! It’s cute, it heals, and it picks pretty flowers, which I thought fit perfectly

- And the last one: Sobble! For the same reasons as with Buizel, it would make sense for James to have a Water-type starter Pokèmon. Now, I personally have a bit of a bias towards Sobble (I love it so much it’s so cute) but I also think its timid nature would work well with James’ caring one. I like to imagine that in this Pokèmon!AU, James’ Sobble was one of the first things that made him realise that he wanted to care for others as a living 💖

Same with Michael, I don’t think James uses his team for battle, but he does have a starter Pokèmon because I think his family would have pushed him to do battles but James eventually decided against it.

So yeah, those are my thoughts! If you have any thoughts on other mons that’d fit the boys, please do me know I’d love to talk about it! 😊

[https-furina]

hello ^^ i already requested a prompts but i was wondering if ic ould ask for another oen??

15. “look at the moon.” with wanderer maybe??

thank you!

✎ wish upon a star.

ft. wanderer x gn!reader

prompt: “look at the moon.”

w.c. 525 words

content: fluff, they're in a relationship but it's not stated for how long, he’s only actually referred to as wanderer roughly once?

notes: ahasjsjsj don’t worry there isn’t a limit to how much you can request ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა this is my first time explicitly writing for wanderer and not scaramouche so i'm sorry if it's not good - i'll work to improve !!

the sweet juice of sunsettia hits you when you pop another chunk into your mouth, watching the fireflies dance among themselves as if there is no care in the world. imagine a world where you could be as carefree as those fireflies - you smile a little at the thought. he sends a glance in your direction, eyes never failing to be sharp as if he couldn't stand your presence. that was far from the case even if he'd never vocally admit it.

"what are you smiling at?" he scoffs, cold fingertips playing with the blades of grass surrounding the two of you. the harsh tone he always speaks in makes you roll your eyes, tilting your head back to gaze up at the stars.

"i was watching the fireflies. they're so free," you let out a dazed sigh, content in the moment as your eyes fall on the crescent moon, "look at the moon."

"it looks the same as it always does, y/n." of course he wouldn't see the beauty of the moon like you did - at least that is what he made you believe. he wouldn't let you see the way that his own purple eyes linger on the moon, grasping at the curve of the crescent and how it still shows itself despite the harsh words the humans spew at it. the moon is almost a shunned child, despised by the living who favour of the sun - the brighter child, the bringer of good days and happy smiles.

"have you ever wished on a star, love?" you ask suddenly in the silence that followed his last words. the amethyst eyes you adore so much flicker in your direction, brows knitted in confusion. for a moment you were certain he'd bite back about the pet name but his eyes gloss over at your question, completing skipping the use of 'love.'

"wish.. on a star?" he mumbles, looking back up at the many stars littered above you. they remind him of the puddles of pink sakura petals that settle beneath their trees as they fall. you quirk a curious brow - had your boyfriend truly never wished on a star?

"you know like the shooting stars? when you see one you've supposed to think of something you really want," your face lights up at the sight of one, fast in pointing one out, "quick, make a wish!"

the two of you are silent as you watch it dash across the night sky, glittering in all of its brilliance. you watch it in amazement, clinging to your wish in wild hope. wanderer finds your childish delight much more interesting than the actual star - despite having actually wished upon it. he would have never years ago so why did he feel the panic to hurriedly wish before the star disappeared? he almost scoffs at the thought of you rubbing off on him. your eyes glitter, reflecting millions as stars as you look at the sky in wonder.

you've been so carefree all your life, he wonders if he'd still be able to reach across and tangle his long fingers with yours if fate had treated him differently.

© https-heizou 2023.

[illumiera]

WIP Actually-on-a-Wednesday-this-time

thank you so much for the tag, @miraakulous-cloud-district! 💖 I thought I'd wrangle myself into doing WIP Wednesday actually on the day (very unlike me, I assure you) and share an excerpt from the in-progress seventh chapter of i fear no fate (for you are my fate) ft. Miraak having a real Moment™...

Miraak is—He’s—There’s so much to see, so much to notice after centuries upon centuries of what might as well have been a living death, and the very soul of him sighs as he takes a tentative step over the threshold and at last sets foot on green grass and spring-cool soil. With every eager inhale, he soaks in the scent of ripe, ready fruits he cannot yet name and flowers he knows only through black-and-white illustrations and the perfume that clings to the sweet, soft spot at the base of Elentari’s throat. And yet all of that hard-won breath rushes right out of him in the next instant, when the heavens shift above them and begin to dance, alive and alight with twirling gossamer ribbons of pink and violet and emerald and ice-blue and, like a crack through which sunglow streams, a thin cord of the purest gold. Kyne is watching. He had given up on gods in Apocrypha. No, it wasn’t quite like that, not by choice: he’d given up on them because he’d been certain that they’d given up on him. After all, hadn’t Bormahii done nothing but watch in silence as a tide of ink swallowed up the broken body of his firstborn, who did not go quietly but went clawing at the fractured earth and blood-soaked snow, calling out for Vahlok as if two shattered-apart men could ever hope to stand against what waited below? Hadn’t they all stood by as Mora prised the memories from his mind so that he’d forget the low-voiced hymns to Sister Hawk he’d sung into the answering wind; forget the nights he’d crept, unmasked with unearthed lute in hand, to the fragrant, starlit meeting-places of the Moth; forget how the singing and the dancing and the play of his fingers over the strings had felt like a reclamation, a calling-back of a tiny, tucked-away part of him that would never bow or bend or break? And then there had come—and come again—Elentari, Light-bringer, Laat Dovahkiin, with a Voice that had vanquished him and the World-Eater both. Elentari with the bloody hands, the healer’s hands, that had clung so tightly to his as she and what might well have been one of Mara’s chosen wolves guided him back to where he belonged. And now there are the lights. Proof that Kyne sees him. Proof that she welcomes him, perhaps even that she forgives him, her lost son returned. It is not a conscious decision, the way he sinks to his knees in the grass. Rather, it is—it is instinctive, he thinks, like drawing in air. Beside him, Elentari starts, no doubt assuming he’s lost his balance, but then she must see it, how his chin tips up and tears spill down his cheeks. “Kaan,” he whispers to the skies, to the stirring breeze, to the shadow of a hawk soaring above him. “Monah. Zu’u lor hi vodeinaan zey.” ("Kaan. Monah. Zu'u lor hi vodeinaan zey" - "Kyne. Mother. I thought you [had] forsaken me.")

now, I tag... @nocturance, @bougainvillea-and-saltwater, @kiir-do-faal-rahhe, @shitty-drawer, and @bostoniangirl21! 😼