#Survival of the Sickest

[formulas-fatal-to-your-mom]

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔇𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 - 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔖𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔰 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔗𝔬 𝔇𝔦𝔢

[metal-stills]

Bloodbath - Zombie Inferno

Napalm Records

2022

Video Directed by Ash Pears Produced by Ash Pears Make-Up Artist: Monika Letora

Official Video

[zeatea]

Watch "Bloodbath Albums Ranked Worst to Best" on YouTube

I ranked all their albums from least best to best

[nexttothelamp]

...

[vipier]

▸ i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

THEY BOTH KNOW THE STEPS OF THIS DANCE BY HEART NOW AND TRISTAN IS TIRED OF DOING IT. he’s been tired for a long time, ever since he first realized what this thing between them was likely fated to be. what they truly are hasn’t been clear since they first crossed that line, since they first put their fumbling hands on each other following assurances that we’ll still be best friends, since they shared hungry and too-eager kisses for hours until their mouths were raw. since they flirted more boldly and @k4ssa began finding little reasons to touch him more often in public. since they finally fell into bed together — after weeks of teasing and exploring each other in every other way — and cassian fled the following morning as though his heels had caught on fire. ever since, to varying degrees, tristan has felt cast to sea, sometimes in full view of land and sometimes with nothing on any side of him, stranded and alone. that first time being left was undoubtedly the worst, followed closely by the second which confirmed that cass’s leaving had not simply been a one-time error in judgment. from there, the severity of this brutal back and forth has varied. sometimes, tristan can keep his head high, proceed as normal, as though he’s become immune to the pain of being disposable. other times, the knife sinks deeper and he becomes all the more a feral thing in the interim.

ironically, it is the latter reaction which often allows cassian back through the door more readily, high as it makes tris off the flame of his own emotions, thereby making him more vulnerable, allowing both his love and pain to slip through. a controlled tristan, however, is lethal, exacting, detached. his experience going round and round in this cycle has taught him that this version of himself tends to discomfit cass, throw him off, sometimes make him edge toward desperation. why is beyond tris, given that it is simply his version of one of cassian’s own masks. if anybody should understand the instinct to shut down, to make one’s self inaccessible and far away, it should be him. besides, tristan feels — however snidely — that he’s damn well earned the right to greet him coldly after being shoved aside yet again for whatever new model cass wished to pursue.

“ I can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean. ” cassian accompanies his words with a bump of his knee to tristan’s beneath the bar. his tone borders on playful, as though this were all some sort of big joke between friends, rather than cass once again attempting to reel him back into his grasp — while, of course, avoiding addressing what he’s done, what he keeps doing. it sets alight a blaze of righteous fury in tristan’s chest, leaving him to wonder if cass’s purpose is twofold, if he would be content pulling anger out of him instead, just so long as he exhibited some emotion.

tristan patel has all his life made a point of avoiding giving people what they want of him. his stubbornness is a gift he clings to with greedy claws.

silently, he lifts his ale to his lips to take a long draw, refusing to look over at cassian despite feeling those dark eyes fixed upon him with singular intent. all these weeks, once again, he has yearned for those eyes to seek him out, to find him in the ferrix streets. yet now that they have, right here in the local cantina, tris rejects them. how dare cassian treat him with such flippancy, as though it had only been days since they spoke, as though he had not been in such a hurry to leave weeks ago that he even left his jacket behind. but the anger does not rise to his serene face ; tristan swallows it expertly back, staring at the far wall behind the bartender with a distant look in his eye. if he focuses enough, perhaps he can pretend he is anywhere else, anything else besides the scraps his friend returns to when someone else’s novelty fades. silence envelops them and a hesitancy hangs heavy within it, as though cass is uncertain how to proceed now that tris has refused to rise to the bait.

“ I’m sure that winning confidence will work beautifully to tempt someone else in this bar, ” he finally answers in an exhausted monotone before draining his beer and setting some credits on the bar top as he prepares to leave. part of him rebels against the act of goading cass into bringing someone else home tonight — it is ever a lie to claim he doesn’t want him, especially to himself — but his obstinacy and hurt win out with shocking ease. he pulls his knee away from cass’s abruptly and pointedly as he rises from his stool. he’d planned to stay longer, have a few more drinks and perhaps a round or two of sabacc, but since his parttime lover had materialized beside him to talk, tristan finds that his enthusiasm for further recreation has decidedly left him. “ and I wish you the best of fucking luck with that, cassian, but I’m going home. alone. I’m tired. and I don’t have the time or energy for your shitty attempts to flirt with me. ”

tristan can’t decide if his cutting words, delivered flatly with alarmingly little emotion, actually make him feel better, but if they do, he knows it’s only temporary. everyone in ferrix knows perfectly well his pathetic situation by now, he suspects. in this town, he will not only always be the pariah, but somehow too the pitiful lovestruck stray hound trotting desperately at cassian’s heels, begging for even the barest scraps of affection. they have not been open about the nature of their relationship beyond their age-old friendship, but even those residents who have not guessed its progression probably know well enough tristan’s weakness.

he knows his weakness, too. he knows in his gut that, even after walking away at this bar, still he will give in. cass might follow and then tris will cave shortly after they reach his place, or in the doorway of his flat, or even on the next street over from the bar. or cass will remain here and instead come crawling to his door tomorrow morning with a bag of food, asking to cook breakfast, trying to make small talk, all but on his knees to seek his friend’s favor again. either way, tristan will inevitably surrender, eventually. they will embrace as friends, but then cass’s mouth will seek his. tris will pretend to resist, they will stumble around his flat pushing and pulling at each other, hungry and furious, half a war the way it always is. even as tris eventually yields to him, even as he melts into their savage pleasure, he will call cass names, sink his nails and teeth into him, tear another fissure into the timeline of them like a notch in a belt. he knows how this ends. but still, he seeks to wound now in a different way while he still can, reaping some paltry seeds of revenge from a dead garden.

“ you’re embarrassing yourself, ” tristan half sneers as he finally turns his head to meet cassian’s eyes. despite himself, he is unable to stave away a spark of defiance, such that he feels his body’s betrayal in his bones. he’s lost the game already, he knows, but he perseveres regardless, allowing his lip to twitch as if in disapproval. his gaze sweeps critically up and down cass’s figure before adding in a hiss as he turns to leave, “ get a grip. ”

[blue-orangeade]

OLLIE 💔

the boys planet contestants are so random because it's like. youtuber. i-lander. heterophobe. the voice kids vietnam (2016) contestant. 29-year-old twice-debuted senior idol, songwriter, and producer. fourteen-year-old. ollie.

[gungieblog]

Survival Of The Sickest - Saliva (Uncensored)

[inklore]

desperately need him to tell me to be silent

fool me twice

pairing: joel miller x f!smuggler!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: eighteen+ content, piv, mean!joel (more frustrated than anything), dirty talk, public sex-ish, small mentions of hair pulling and biting, thigh riding, orgasm denial, established enemy’s with benefits.

note: yeahh you didn’t ask for this but i couldn’t help myself because i’m addicted to this man and i need him in every way possible!! special thanks to my darling @psychedelic-ink for beta reading this ilysm bby.

part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!

You could play dumb, tell yourself lies, and wonder how you ended up with your back to a dirty building's brick, out past curfew, playing a game of innocence with a man who can read bullshit from a mile away. 

A fact everyone knew. 

Or comes to learn if you decide to test that scowl and glint of cruelty in his eyes that many mistake for miserableness. 

Facts you’ve come to learn from your own foolishness—and the countless times your boss has sent you to deal with a fuckup he made. Because who’s going to mess up such a pretty face. His words, when you had told him to do it himself. But his cowardice won out, and you had to grit your teeth and refrain from familiarizing your fist with his jaw. 

Smuggling, stealing, and scavenging were preferable to cleaning up shit or burning corpses until the stench of burnt hair and skin embedded in your own flesh lingered far beyond any crevices murky bucket water could clean. 

And besides the few assholes you had to deal with, the job wasn’t bad. 

Joel could be put on that asshole list. He was definitely on Robert’s. But to be fair, if you too had gotten a handful of blackened eyes and bruised ribs from Joel, you’d send a lackey to do your job to cover your ass for having screwed the man over once again. 

Unlike the other assholes he sent you to deal with, dealing with Joel was more of a pleasure than an inconvenience. 

Even if he could read through your bullshit. Maybe that’s why you liked him so much. Why these meetings went so easy, you could lie through your teeth and he could decipher the truth through your smirk and tone so easily that you barely had to try to be believable because you knew he already knew the truth. 

But that didn’t mean you still didn’t try to come up with your best lie. to prod at that scowl until it thinned out, his jaw clenched, sick of your shit before the game even started. 

Playing dumb had no room between the two of you because there was a lack of it. Not when his chest is pressed to yours, pushing you further into the wall, making your lungs gasp for the air he’s forcing out of you. 

“You gonna keep me here all night, or are you gonna make this easy for both of us?” His tone stern, rigid, threatening. 

And you’d be scared if you couldn’t feel the hardness of his cock pressing into your inner thigh. If the two of you weren’t used to this. This little game—the play before the third act—that has curses and nails digging into each other's skin. 

You once attempted to retrace the events that led to this situation that the two of you frequently found yourselves in—touches and grazes that only occurred during these meetups. Your eyes avoided each other in crowds and on the street when you weren’t in this alley. When you weren’t making a show of threats and being pissed off. 

The anger was always real for Joel, though. Always truly pissed off at Robert’s need to be a slime ball. The anger never faltered, even when he was buried deep inside of you. You paid the price, that would usually be a punch, a bruise, with a hard fuck and not being able to sit down the next day without wincing. 

And in the sickest, filthiest way, you loved it. But that is what this world creates—ways to survive and sustain. To cover up the ugly with something that stings and burns with safety and life. A reminder that what you’re doing isn’t as bad as what's beyond the walls. You can still feel bad, hurt, and fuck because you're alive and not growing fungus. 

“It wasn’t–”

The tight grab of your jaw, his fingers digging into your heated skin, make your words die on your tongue. “No matter how many times you repeat it, don’t mean I’m gonna believe it. What did Robert do with the battery? Bullshit me and you’ll regret it.”

“That a promise?” Your smirk lasts all of a few seconds before you’re wincing from the marks he’s leaving against the skin of your jaw. A silent threat. A look of rage in his eyes; a fire you know you won't be able to extinguish no matter how many jokes and lies you tell tonight. “He sold it to someone else.” 

“Who?”

“Ahh, I don’t know.” Your nails dig into his wrist as you try to pry it from your aching jaw. His brows raise a warning that this is your last chance. “I swear.”

There’s a low growl in the back of his throat as he releases you, but he makes no move to remove his closeness. His chest still stealing your air. There’s a slight look of anguish laced in his curses and lowered brows. It makes you feel bad, and it's annoying. 

Robert was a piece of shit, but it wasn’t your fault he fucked up this deal. So why should you feel bad? Take on those feelings when it wasn’t your deal to begin with. It’s not as if you and Joel were anything but warm bodies to take things out on. He didn’t need your pity, and you didn’t have the energy to give it to him. 

What you did have the energy for, though, was making the inside of your thigh unbearably hot. That heat trailing up your body and embedding itself in the ache between your legs that housed your desire for Joel. 

It’s why you don’t think twice about rocking your hips forward at the right angle so the seam of your jeans rubs against the top of his thigh, giving you the friction your throbbing pussy needs—your own thigh rubbing along his hard cock. 

The shudder your body gives from the motion, the repetition of it, makes your insides melt even more when Joel’s glare burns a hole through you. He makes no move to  stop you. Just watches you, eyes flashing between your lips and the way your hips move against him. 

“Joel,” you whine. The noise is more of a demand than a plea for him to touch you. To get to the best part of your night before FEDRA catches you coming on his thigh and the two of you get locked up. 

“What? You don’t need me to get you off; if you want it, take it.” His palms splay outward and bracket around your head as he puts them on the dirty brick, encasing you completely now. Shielding you from the darkness around you, all you can smell is him—musky, burnt coal, wood—in the same breath as all you can feel is his weight on you. 

“Joel.” Your hips stutter to a stop. You refuse to beg him; you didn’t beg. Neither before nor after the world went to shit. You were not going to start now, even if the outcome would be in your favor. 

Was this your punishment for the fuckup? “Are you really punishing me right now?” You want to laugh, want to berate him, and feed him more bullshit so he can’t see the disappointment that’s slowly seeping into your chest. 

He doesn’t answer, just pushes his leg up and moves it along the crotch of your jeans. "Go ahead,” his mouth comes closer to yours. "Take what you want, isn't that what you do anyway? You take and take,” his movements match his words. "And there's no consequence," he says, as your nails dig into his shirt and your hips move involuntarily after each drag and pull. “Not for you, why would there be? You’re just the messenger.” His teeth bite at the skin of your chin, causing you to whimper. 

You let out a soft cry when his fingers dig into your hair, pulling the strands so your neck is on display for him. So he can bite and lick the sensitive skin with roughness, “So take what you want. Do your job.” 

The closer you get to coming, the harder he pushes up against you. The more your legs shake from the stance and strain, the more your knuckles and fingers burn from gripping the fabric of his shirt. His mouth is everywhere but on yours, where you dumbly wish it was. Where you refuse to beg him to go. 

But you don’t need them to get there. To tumble over that precipice and see stars behind your lids. All you need is more, just a little bit more, and you’ll be com–

Your body feels cold and stilted in time when he pulls away. Leaving your hips to follow nothing but air, your whimpers and moans turned into puffs of agitation. Whines swallowed down your dried throat. 

Joel doesn't give you a chance to reprimand or lament the orgasm you were about to have. To gather yourself enough to jab him with a brash comment covering up your need. His hand on your forearm squeezes and maneuvers you so your back is to him instead of the wall. His weight encases you once more, your cheek pressing into the cold brick. The tip of his boot kicks at your feet to spread your legs; your body moves on instinct and desire as your back bows and you push your ass out to him.  

The drag of your jeans and underwear feels chafed and tight just below your ass, where Joel lets them rest. Where he’s too impatient to push them further down, giving himself enough room for him to push inside of you. 

His fingers brush against your ass as he pulls himself from his jeans, wrapping a hand around his cock to bring it to where you’re soaked and pounding for him. Where all your heat is concentrated from how badly you want this. 

Your nail beds scrape against the caked-on dirt of the building as the tip of his cock crests your entrance. A moan rips through the back of your throat, loud and raw, as your walls stretch and burn to accommodate his girth. 

Your chest heaves harder as Joel's hand moves to cover your mouth, eyes screwed shut as he bottoms out. Nudging at the part of you that has you squirming against him, your thighs scraping against the building. 

And when he delivers the first thrust, hard and slow, those delirious black stars line your vision. Pleasure shooting through your spine in a way that has desperate and pathetic noises falling from your lips and to the rough skin of the palm encasing them.

"Since you’re so good at keepin’ things quiet for Robert.” He grunts against your ear, venom poisoning the words so they sound harsh and heavy-handed. “Let’s see how quiet you can be for me," his hips snap against your ass. Jostling your body against the brick and back onto his cock as he fucks you hard and unrelentingly. 

Your mewls against his palm are louder than they should be. Your teeth sink into your lip in an attempt to muffle more of your noises. Your insides are already burning with pleasure from the gasps he's eliciting with each rough drag of his cock. That you crave. That only Joel feeds to you without remorse or mercy because it’s what you both need. 

He’s tired of getting screwed over by the world, and you’re tired of putting on your tough act, of not being able to be weak because you’ll be preyed upon by the monsters this world has created. 

Joel’s breath is hot and heavy against your ear; the two of you screwed if anyone were to look down here. If a lone soldier were to shine his light and find his prisoners for the night, but neither of you seem to care. You never do, not when you’re both feeding off each other like your own sick versions of the clickers outside the wall. Taking and tearing each other down until you’re spent, panting, and covered in the others mess. 

He makes you delirious. Weak. Heady. All things you’re not allowed to be, to feel, in this place. 

You’d happily let Robert fuck over Joel a million times if it meant you’d end up with his cock in you, his mouth on your skin, filthy words and threats etched in bites and licks, all completely consuming you. Turning you into a moaning mess barely able to stand, his arm wrapping around your midsection to keep you in place. To keep your ass pressed to his pelvis so he can continue his hard strokes. 

Building up your climax again. Bringing you back to that precipice ten times more earth-shattering than before. 

There will be marks on your cheek in the light of the day tomorrow. Stings from the reminder of being stretched. Marks on your skin that will be missed by the blind eye but will make a jolt of electricity burn through you when your fingers absentmindedly move across them. 

“D’you enjoy it?” He asks, “Paying what’s owed to me with your body?” You can taste copper against your tongue from the bites your lower lip is taking. Your head nods in the confirmation you can’t give with the moans trapped behind your bloodied lip. 

Joel hums and groans into the skin just below your ear. His forehead pressed into your temple. His words tighten that coil inside you the more he speaks, the more your wetness coats the inside of your thighs from the way he drags his hardness out, only to push it back in even harder. “Christ you’re so filthy. My filthy fuckin’ girl.” 

His girl. 

Only in these moments. 

Only with heat against you—from within you. 

And when this is over, you’ll go back to being the girl who works for the guy he can’t stand. The thief. The smuggler. 

He’ll go back to the remnants of his life, and you to yours, until you meet in this trash-filled alleyway again. He’ll grunt dirty words and sing praises into your skin as your body takes all he’s willing to give. 

If you think about it deeply enough, it might make your chest hurt. Might make something out of nothing. But you refuse to do that because, fuck, you love being his girl, if only for a little while. As pitiful as it sounds. 

You want to tell him to say it again. To tell you you’re his girl. To bite it into your skin as he fucks you harder and faster. All that can be heard are cut-off mewls and whimpers from you, though. Words failing while pleasure coats them like honey. 

He knows though, can probably tell by the pulsating grips of your walls tightening around his cock. “There ya go, take what you want. Take it from me, baby. You can have it. Come on,” it’s a gruff command on the verge of a groan. That white-hot heat at the backs of your eyelids, ready to engulf your body in that debilitating ecstasy. 

His name is on the tip of your tongue as you feel it growing closer and closer, until it’s gone. 

Until Joel pulls his cock out of your clenching heat and shoots rope after rope of his hot come on your ass cheek. His deep groan muffled by the nape of your neck. Curses and declarations uttered without meaning in the headiness of pleasure. 

Your stomach sinks when you hear the clanging of his belt buckle, the fumbling of his fingers righting himself, and the warmth of his body gone from your back. There have been many nights where he’s finished before you, when there was a time crunch and you needed to be quick. His mouth or fingers always returning the favor, bringing you there with ease and memory of how to touch you. 

When you turn around and look at him, there's a half-smirk on his face, any glints of kindness dying in the fire of the anger he still clearly feels at Robert's hands. 

“Really?” 

“Who’d Robert sell the battery to?” 

You scowl at him, “Joel-”

“Find out.” He steps back into your space. Gives you the quickest peck to your lips before he’s pulling away. “And then I’ll repay ya.” 

You swat his hands away when they try to fix your jeans, a death glare making him snort, as you right yourself and storm from the alleyway. 

You were going to kill Robert. 

Or at the very least beat some information out of him. 

[in0-0ni]

This hit me like a truck in a dream last night. I have no context, if I were a better writer I'd write the SICKEST fic of Vaughn surviving working a diner. Alas, this is all I can do hehe

[musicalfan78]

Hermes: Cause no mortal can pass Poseidon's storm...

Odysseus: *defeats/dodges Charybdis, almost dies by poseidon, then survives and stabs him to stop the storm and drops the sickest line to get home*

Hermes: 🫢

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

𝔇𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 - 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱

[tommyriddlez]

survival of the sickest

[katerinaaqu]

Escape from Cyclops Island: Hubris

Okay a little something I promised to @wolfythewitch I was gonna post when discussing on a statue of Odysseus under the ram and this doodle Title says it all I believe! Hehehe

His heart was pounding somewhere in his throat so much that he felt he could spit it out at any moment now. He could swear he could hear the blood pumping behind his ear, almost making him deaf. He had to master all his self-control not to let his breath hiss down his throat and he felt cold sweat running across his face and back. He didn’t dare to make a sound even if the moans and groans of pain coming out of that detestable giant throat of the Cyclops were masking most of the other sounds except from the bleating of the flock. Polyphemus was still bleeding profoundly out of that crushed eyeball of his as he was stumbling across his cave, constantly making sounds of agony and on occasion he would angrily sway his arm around, dropping a load of stuff hanging from the walls or piled around. Odysseus was holding his breath every time one of those piles collapsed with tremendous sound and saw one of his men that were scattered about the room run for cover, barely missing being buried under the giant debris. He was at the end of his wits. That was the most difficult night they had so far and that spoke loads considering the terrifying week they passed in that secluded hole, watching their companions being consumed by the giant Cyclops. He was awake all night that was for sure ever since he had that idea to get the bastard drunk and pluck his eye out. It seemed a good idea at that time but of course even if he was mentally prepared for a difficult night, the actual thing was beyond terrifying; beyond his sickest expectations. On top of that he hadn’t calculated on the heightened senses of the Cyclops. He could hear a single needle drop! Yet alone them moving about! Therefore their whole night was nightmarish for they had to move about and avoid being stomped upon or being crushed every time the Cyclops couldn’t stay put and sleep while in pain among others while they themselves had to run about as soundlessly as possible.

Now even the Cyclops was exhausted and he was more lazily moving about but his pain was giving him strength and Odysseus still hadn’t figured out their way out! He knew the Cyclops was blind but now he could tell he had both acute sense of hearing and smell! They wouldn’t easily get past him! During the whole nightly and deadly play of hide-and-seek and chase, Odysseus was still trying to figure out a way out of the situation. They would have only one chance for there wouldn’t survive another day in that cave and their comrades were in danger too! Not only were there more of this monster around but even Polyphemus himself might as well stumble across their ships. Or their comrades would come looking for them and either get past him or get crushed by the others. Odysseus had given them orders to wait about a week. That day was getting dangerously close to come and they were still trapped! Polyphemus dropped yet another huge stack of grapes. His comrade Alcimos left a yelp of surprise as he was nearly crushed. Odysseus felt all his nerves tensing feeling Polyphemus look at that direction!

“So this is where you’re hiding?” Polyphemus moaned in his unworldly voice

He swung his arm barely missing his poor comrade and crushed at a stone wall behind. The silence that followed the tremendous sound was deafening.

“Shit!” he mumbled barely audibly

Odysseus picked a pebble up and threw it with all his might to the corner of the other direction. The dry sound echoed in the stone chamber and luckily drew the attention of their predator. Odysseus made a haste, almost panicking, move with his hand, urging his friend to run. As soundlessly as possible his terrified comrade obeyed. Odysseus eyed Eurylochus. He was as pale as a sheet, probably all of them were. Odysseus through another stone at another corner.

“Is that you there, Nobody?!” Polychemus growled swinging his huge arms again, “You won’t get away from me! You’ll pay for what you’ve done!”

Odysseus hopped over to Eurylochus’s part as quietly as he could, practically crawling on all fours towards his direction, and patted his back.

“Captain…what are we going to do?” Eurylochus whispered (well it was more mouthing like whispering)

“I don’t know!” Odysseus replied in a similar manner

“We’re trapped! There’s no way out of here!”

“I’m thinking! I’m thinking!”

He nearly banged his head with his fists. Fear and lack of sleep were blocking his logical thinking.

“Think, you fool!” he urged himself, “Think! Think! There must be a way to run past him! Think! Think!”

Upon yet another rumbling of one of his comrades swiftly changing position to avoid the giant foot of the Cyclops, Odysseus threw another stone, this time to the wall above the sheep, causing the animals to agitate and bleat together. He hoped their noise would cover their clumsy attempts to change position. That didn’t pass unnoticed by Polyphemus.

“Is that where you’re hiding?” He groaned again, “among my sheep? You hope to walk past me inside my own flock?”

Yeah, the thought did cross my mind, Odysseus thought. In fact that was the initial plan; to wait for Polyphemus to open his cave and then they would run among the sheep that would come out and hope for the best. Odysseus was not sure if it would work anymore. Apparently he was right for the Cyclops confirmed his fear by laughing in his pain.

“You are a fool, Nobody! Do you think you can run past me so easily?! I will smell and feel you! I will sit here and make sure no one passes through me!”

Stumbling his way towards the cave’s entrance, he sat himself to the corner, to make his point. The message was clear. He would feel his way across the flock. Well, there goes my plan! Odysseus thought.

“Shit!” he cussed once more

Dawn was getting dangerously close. He was running out of time to find a solution. Would they run past him anyways? Improbable. Stay in yet another day and hope to somehow dig themselves out of it? Impossible. Would they, perhaps, wait for the nightfall when the flock would be coming in so they would run out as Polyphemus would be busy taking his sheep in? It could work but for once seemed as risky as their initial plan of escape and two he knew they were running out of time. Not only would their small search party arrive and compromise his lie that they were alone, revealing his identity too that he had tried to conceal, but also his men were at the point of breaking. He doubted they would last yet another full day in the cave waiting for their possible death. Not to mention hunger and fatigue had started taking their toll on them all.

“You will not get past me, Nobody!” Polyphemus threatened again

Apparently, though, they weren’t the only ones exhausted by their nightly chase and hide-and-seek game. Polyphemus groaned one last time in pain (potentially the wine he had so carelessly chugged down was not out of his system yet) and his head fell to the side and fell asleep. That gives us a few hours window, Odysseus thought. He didn’t have time to lose.

“Captain!” Eurylochus urged him again as loudly as he dared, “We must do something!”

“Sh!” Odysseus harshly shushed him, “I need to think!”

“Think!” he urged himself again, “You must think! Your life depends on it! Yours and your men’s! Think! What should we do!? Sheep…among the sheep…no we can’t do that now…but still… No, go back to the original idea! No time for more complicated plans! Do not fill your brain with unnecessary thoughts, you fool! Think! Back to the basics…the sheep… We can hide among the sheep…”

He gazed over at the flock. He noticed indeed it was an impressive flock. If they weren’t in such a position he might as well admire how well-kept they were! He noticed then the rams. Yes, sheep rams and goats he knew. He had plenty of flocks under his supervision in Ithaca. He noticed this good breed of rams among the white sheep. The rams were big, strong and black like violet flowers; were easily distinguishable among the rest. Yeah, these animals would make even the princes of Troy feeling envious. Suddenly his mind tingled. His hand cupped his chin, feeling the curly hair of his beard. Suddenly the light bleating of sheep and the snoring of the despicable Cyclops were not bothering him anymore. In fact, they were making the cogs in his brain move faster.

“Sheep…we can hide among the sheep… Troy…the trick that saved us from Troy… The sheep…in the sheep…no, no, no! Not in the sheep…among them…to get under his feet…wait…under…under…! That’s it!” he snapped his fingers in realization (drawing the attention of Eurylochus no less)

If it worked he would have to congratulate himself, he thought. If this didn’t work then nothing would! Just to be safe, he through another rock at the sheep, hoping the familiar sound would keep the Cyclops lulled in his sleep and clapped his hands twice as loudly as he dared, drawing the attention of his other companions. With frantic moves he pointed at them the flock, urging them to follow him in the pen. Luckily they got his meaning and ran there. Odysseus ran as fast and soundlessly as he could to the pile of withes that Polyphemus used as his bed and grasped some strong twisted ones from them. Joining his comrades he once more signaled to the sheep pointing upwards and then patted his stomach. He didn’t dare to speak a word. He didn’t know if the Cyclops would wake up and certainly his plan wouldn’t be ruined otherwise nothing would save them. It took his comrades two minutes to understand what he meant but thank the gods they did. He grabbed three-three the rams by their horns (thanking all the gods that this creature had no shepherd dogs to guard his flock!) and tied them together and then helped each and every one of his comrades under them. He left Eurylochus for last.

“Captain…h-how…a-are you…”

“Sh!” Odysseus urged again in a whisper, “Trust me”

He certainly sounded more confident than what he felt but Eurylochus didn’t need to know that. Helping his brother-n-law to be tied as well he looked around. There was only one ram left and it was the biggest and the best Polyphemus had in his flock. He knew that ram; it was Polyphemus’s favorite. He remembered seeing their tormentor caressing it and taking care of it. He glared daggers towards the direction of Polyphemus; fists clenching almost to the point of his nails digging in his flesh. All his accumulated anger was bubbling ready to explode. He had to use all his self control not to be lost in it. He went to the ram and grasped its thick fleece with all his might. There he remained taking breaths to calm himself. His body was practically drenched in cold sweat. He prayed to all the gods he knew that his plan would work. The last minutes till dawn passed like eons as he noticed the rosy color of dawn entering through the openings of the cave.

“This is it…” he thought, “The moment of truth”

The monster he so wished he could kill right now, slowly began to wake up. Like clockwork; like the very beasts of nature! He noticed him moaning and groaning in agony still.

“Yes!” Odysseus thought maliciously, “Suffer the pain of my men! Suffer like you should, you beast! Burn and drown in your blood for all I care, unholy creature!”

He saw the Cyclops slowly opening the heavy rock. The fresh air hit him directly on the face as well as the warm light of dawn. Yes! Just a little longer! Polyphemus groaned again in pain and whistled for the sheep to come out. He felt the sheep he was under moving but the movements were much slower than what he remembered. He knew it was because now he had him too weighting it down apart from its own thick fleece. As he suspected, Polyphemus began feeling his way through the flock, touching the backs of his sheep, counting and lurking for his victims to cross! Odysseus literally held his breath when his first comrade was to come through. Polyphemus’s hand touched the sheep. Odysseus prayed to all gods that his comrade would hold his fear back and manage to go through.  Polyphemus felt his way over and…he let the rams pass! The Man of Many Torments let out a small sigh of relief. He secretly congratulated himself for tying three rams together. His comrade in the middle was protected from both sides. The second passed the same through. He felt a smirk almost play at the corner of his lips as if he was trying to calm his own heart; stop his own sweat from making his palms slippery and nearly falling off his own salvation.

“Fool!” he thought triumphantly for one second, “You foolish beast! You thought you could catch me! No I will not be caught and devoured by you, Cyclops! Never! Their deaths weren’t in vain, Cyclops!”

Despite his resolve and wild triumph that was making his chest nearly breaking by the way his heart was pounding against it, Odysseus of Ithaca felt ready to have a heart attack as his own turn had come. Once again he nearly fell off but he bravely held his pace. He then heard Polyphemus speak (his view was blocked by the ram’s thick fleece).

“How strange that you come last, my dearest ram!” Polyphemus cooed at it, “You usually are the first to run out and lead all my flock to the open air to graze upon the grass…and by the night you run first back to get into your warm home… Is it because you are sad for your master, my dear ram? Because that puny man, Nobody, took away sight with his evil trick when he clouded his mind with wine? Is that it?”

Sweat was running like a river on Odysseus’s face as his heart was speeding twice as fast as a normal human would! His head was feeling light from hanging upside down for too long as well and his arms were getting tired. If anything was holding him back was his rage that gave him almost inhuman strength as well as his need to survive this.

“So you show no compassion to my men, to any of us that begged your hospitality and yet you speak on this animal as if it is the most important thing! Curse you, beast! Remain blind now for the rest of your life!”

His heart nearly stopped as the huge, sinister hand cupped the back of the large ram and gave it an affectionate pet. He felt that those huge fingers nearly touched his palms! And yet Cyclops didn’t investigate any further. His chest was moving violently up and down sucking oxygen like no tomorrow as he finally breathed again. And then he smelt the fresh air around him. He was outside! Finally! Finally they went outside! He barely held himself not to run immediately. He gazed behind his back, seeing Polyphemus slowly moving with his arms extended trying to find his way blind to the downhill path.

“Now!” he thought

He immediately let go of the ram and ran as fast as his feet allowed him to, cutting the binds of his men with his knife.

“COME ON!” He called to them, “GO GO GO! Grab the sheep and go! Run!”

Cyclops gasped as the stomping of men, Odysseus’s cries and bleating of sheep reached his ears. How?! How had they managed to…? Odysseus freeing the last man yelled at his second-in-command;

“Eurylochus! Run back to the ships! Give order to start! Go! NOW!”

Eurylochus didn’t need to be told a second time. As if his feet grew the winged sandals of Hermes he ran with all his might downhill. The small bay with their ships of salvation came to sight….

*

Polites was organizing the crew the best he could. It was already the seventh day ever since their comrades and captain had left the bay in search for hospitality. He knew he would have to organize the search party that day. What would it be the right course? What if they were too late?

“-…OLITES!”

He raised his head from his work at the distant sound of that voice. No soon after he saw the figures of Eurylochus and a few of their comrades running like all demons of Tartarus were after them. They were carrying huge sheep on their shoulders which were slowing them down while leading some more with them.

“POLITES!” Eurylochus was heard clearly now, “PREPARE THE DEPARTURE! HOIST THE SAILS!”

“What?” Polites asked in wonder but then he saw from afar a huge figure

It didn’t need intelligence to realize what it was.

“Oh crap!” he cursed himself “HOIST THE SAILS!” He transferred the order, “ALL HANDS ON DECK!”

Hands and feet frantically began working, abandoning literally anything they might have been doing, any sort of provisions they have laid down upon the beach and jumped in the water to climb the ships; ropes were loosened, sails were opened and anchors were pulled up as fast as their human hands could manage. Their comrades joined them soon after.

“GO GO GO!” Eurylochus yelled, climbing up the ship dripping water from the beach and helping the others up

“Wait! What about the others?”

“THERE ARE NO OTHERS POLITES! PREPARE FOR DEPARTURE!”

“Where is Odysseus?”

They both turned towards the dreadful sight; Odysseus was running as fast as his feet could take him (and that was fast enough) among the sheep of Polyphemus. Behind him the dark, sinister and huge figure of the Cyclops was catching up slowly because of size alone.

“Captain!” Eurylochus yelled, “Quickly! Hurry!”

Breath hissing in his throat and heart hammering against his ribcage Odysseus was running like Charon himself was after him. Around him the sheep of Polyphemus were also scared from the commotion.

“NOBODY!”

He stopped to look back at Cyclops that was after him, slowly yet steadily gaining ground. Something in his mind snapped that moment. He looked at the ram that was the source of his salvation. His original plan was to take it with him but he knew he could not carry it. He could only see red at the realization. He drew his sharp sword and grabbed the ram by the horns, eyeing the beast he hated with flaming eyes of obsidian.

“That is for my men!” He said threateningly

And then his sword cut through the tender neck of the ram, rich in fat and blood. The ram bleated desperately as it chocked to its own blood.

“NOOOO!” Polyphemus yelled woefully

He didn’t need to be smart to know what Odysseus had done. The king of Ithaca didn’t stop to enjoy the pain of his opponent. He ran to the edge of the rock and threw himself in the sea before swimming frantically towards his ship where his men helped him up immediately on their way out of the bay. Breathing heavily he looked around and all his comrades were rejoicing to see them fine!

“Captain!” Polites called out, “Thank gods you are alive! What happened! Where are the others?”

Odysseus’s eyes darkened.

“Gone…” he croaked out, clenched feast trembling “That…that beast ate them!”

His comrades let out cries of mourning as they covered their heads with their cloths in lament. It was the second loss they were suffering outside of war ever since Thrace and the way was beyond comprehension… Odysseus saw his men lamenting, even those who were now rowing for their lives. Something snapped inside him. He turned around towards the shore, for they had gained a fair distance; brought his both hands around his mouth and yelled with all his might;

“CYCLOPS! HAY, CYCLOPS! I’M HERE!”

“What are you doing?!” Eurylochus croaked out shocked

However Odysseus was beyond himself.

“Looks like it wasn’t just a common man the one you decided to devour his companions! Looks like it was no weakling as you thought!” he mocked him, “You should have thought twice before you had the audacity to devour your guests in your own home! This is why Zeus took the sight away from you!”

Polyphemus growled in anger. He grasped a huge boulder from the rock next to him and threw it towards the direction of the voice. The boulder splashed loudly into the water, shaking the men off their feet and showering them with water. The wave pushed the ship close to the shore, almost hitting the rocks. Odysseus rushed to the pole of the steer and pulled with all his might, narrowly escaping the howl crushing against the sharp protrusions. His head moved urging his men to run to their positions at the oars.

“ROW MEN! ROW!” he ordered, “Full speed ahead!”

They didn’t need to be told twice! Their calloused from war and sea hands grabbed upon the oars like their souls resided in them, rowing with all their might at the orders and rhythm provided by Eurylochus and the rest of the captains. Odysseus laughed loudly almost like a madman seeing the distance they covered.

“YOU MISSED!” He mocked him again, “CYCLOPS! I’M STILL HERE!”

“What are you doing!?” one of the men called out in panic, “You reckless man! Stop provoking him! You will kill us all!”

His men indeed seemed to be coming to pat him on the back, stop him from performing this madness as some more boulders barely let their ships untouched.

“Captain! That’s enough! Please!” Eurylochus urged

“CYCLOPS! HAY! WHAT’S THE MATTER!” Odysseus ignored them “YOUR STRENGTH LEFT YOU!?” he yelled as he was practically held by them as he rushed to the edge of the ship to yell to his opponent with all the strength of his lungs

“CAPTAIN!” now Eurylochus yelled, “Have you lost your damned mind?! Stop this!”

Fists clenched and shaking, no, rather his entire body was shaking as Odysseus rushed to the edge and almost hanged himself from there, as if trying to ease some distance between himself and the shore.

“Captain don’t-!”

“CYCLOPS!” he yelled on top of his lungs, “IF ANYONE ASKS YOU WHO TOOK YOUR SIGHT TELL THEM IT WAS ODYSSEUS THE SACKER OF CITIES, THE SON OF LAËRTES FROM ITHACA THAT DID IT! DO YOU HEAR ME!?”

“Odysseus!”  Polites now urged grabbing hold of him as if he was afraid that he had lost his mind

And in one way he was right. Face all red from fury and nostrils flattering in his breathing, Odysseus was no different than a madman indeed. The cry of desperation he heard from Cyclops and the way his arms flew in the air was balsam in his soul. His enemy’s pain and distress was as addictive as the triumph over this opponent!

“ALAS! It was prophesized for me by Telemus that Odysseus would make me blind!” he cried, “But I hoped for a battle! For a worthy opponent! Not this short WEAKLING who clouded my mind with wine to do it! But my father, Poseidon will heal me, Nobody! YOU HEAR ME!?”

He threw another bolder in anger but this time Odysseus was way out of range. The bolder landed in the water several meters behind any ship that belonged to the king of Ithaca. Odysseus’s mocking laughter echoed once more.

“COWARD!” Polyphemus called upon from his isle, “Come back and fight me like a man, you weakling! Come back so you can have the gifts you so wished for! Come back to have the handsome ransoms my father Poseidon would have for me!”

Odysseus roared angrily, beyond all reason, banging is fist against the hull of the ship, practically breaking free from Polites’s grip.

“IF ONLY I HAD YOU UNDER MY SWORD NOW!” he yelled, “I WOULD TAKE YOUR LIFE! I WOULD STEAL YOUR LIFE LIKE YOU TOOK MY MEN FROM ME! AND NOT EVEN YOUR MIGHTY FATHER POSEIDON WOULD BE ABLE TO PUT YOU TOGETHER AND HEAL YOUR EYE! YOU HEAR ME! I’D KILL YOU!”

He had no idea he could yell so loudly or so long. He had no idea he would lose his mind that day but he just had to release all the accumulated anger he carried in all these days; all the horror and fury.

“DO YOU HEAR ME?! I’D KILL YOU! I’D KILL YOU! I’D KILL YOU!”

“Odysseus!” Polites was heard again

The king of Ithaca was breathing heavily like wounded. His throat almost completely aggravated from his desperate yelling. His chest seemed on fire as well. But that moment of silence after the madness was enough to hear the Cyclops from a distance. He raised his arms towards the heavens and cried out;

“Oh, Poseidon! If I am your son and you wish to call yourself my father, make sure that Odysseus the Sacker of Cities from Ithaca shall never see his land again! But if he is fated to set a foot again to his ancestral home, let it be alone, may all his companions perish and he shall arrive to his land stranger upon a foreign ship and meet only misery in his halls!”

At the sound of that terrible curse, the men on his boat nearly scratched their faces in lament and moaned in terror.

“Gods! We’re cursed!” one called out

“Gods, why!” one other cried, “Right after Troy!”

And then Odysseus gasped. The word rang in his mind like a bell, snapping him out of his previous rampage…freezing him solid almost instantaneously.

“Gods…!” he whispered in terror, “What did I do!”

His previous hypertension turned into a frozen, delirious state. He almost fell limb to the arms of Polites; eyes hollow and fixated upon nothingness; upon some imaginary thing on the planks beneath him.

“What did I do!”

“Odysseus?” Polites whispered alarmed, “Odysseus!”

“What did I do! What did I do!” it was all his captain was whispering

He knew then…he knew the price was too great and he could not pay it!

What did I do what did I do what did I do what did I do what did I do…

~*~*~*~

Based on the 6th rhapsody of the Odyssey this is another one-shot!

Dunno why I imagined how literaly nerve-breaking the whole process would be and how these men would be inside that cave waiting for dawn to come so I kinda went for that! Plus I wanted to explain the emotional accumulation inside Odysseus that led him to make the greatest mistake in his life!

Dunno why I made him kill Polyphemus's favorite ram! I imagined that if a ram alone is enough to lift him up then he wouldn't be able to carry it so I imagined Odysseus would want to hurt Polyphemus for what he did to his men and this idea of a more cruel act by Odysseus was given!

The escape scene was also heavily inspired by the Sinbad The Legend of The Seven Seas scene of the giant fish!

And of course you can see my analysis upon my theories on Curse of Polyphemus

My analysis about Odysseus wanting to hurt Polyphemus and enjoying the pain he inflicted him can be seen here

I hope you guys like it! Sorry it is like 5 in the morning now! Hehehe

[cockworkangels]

the sickest thing they did in this show was show us madeleine thinking of claudia in the afternoon sunlight. claudia in an impossible afternoon light she could never survive in....as madeleine saw her... rendered even more beautiful.... literally shaking and throwing up

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

npd culture is HATING people with trauma you perceive as worse than yours because then you can't be the sickest person in the room/the person who survived the most and therefore you're not the person everyone should be the proudest of or the most worried about

.