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oatmealdaydreams · 2 months ago

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Black Hole Fantasy: I'm pulling in the driveway, I'm turning off the car

Let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 1

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: After reconciling, Stan answers what he can while Ford asks questions about his shifting abilities. Most of them are expected from his nerdy brother: how certain shifts work, what kind of limits there are, what the deal is with partial shifts, and all that. But then Ford asks about how he found out about his abilities, and…and Stan debates if it’s a good idea telling his brother about his time driving in Mount Tammany. Stan cannot lie to Ford without him seeing right through it, anyway.

Notes: Wrote a majority of this today (as of posting) because I damn well know a lot of us need some comfort right now.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this.

As soon as the question leaves Ford’s mouth, he can tell it probably isn’t the best thing to ask, for whatever reason that may be, because Stan tenses in his seat and his gaze darts away from his brother.

Stan expected this. It’s Ford, he’s gonna be all nerdy and ask questions and wanna know more about things he doesn’t understand so he can understand them. He expected this.

The younger twins are due to arrive within the next week or so for another summer. Stan’s surprised their parents are letting back to Gravity Falls—depending on what they told their parents—but he’s not complaining. He grew attached to those chaotic gremlins rather quickly. They’re family, after all. Stan knows he’s got a weak spot for ‘em. Ford gives him shit about it sometimes when he’s being all stubborn and grumpy. It doesn’t come from a place of hypocrisy, though. Ford’s just as bad as Stan is when it comes to their niblings, and he most often admits it.

The time sailing across the vast seas on the Stan O’ War II with Ford helped with remembering things. Stan had remembered most of his life—the important bits, at least. There were still holes in his recollection here and there, still are, but important memories stuck before the rest of it. The fact that he had a twin brother named Stanford, his niblings, most of what he’s done while in Gravity Falls, the entire Portal Situation, and almost everything that has to deal with a certain triangular dream demon. When he has relapses, Ford is always there to help him remember and support him until the memories come back. Childhood can be a bit blurry sometimes. He doesn’t quite remember much about their father, but Ford reassures him that he’s not someone to worry about; Stan trusts Ford. That, and the way Ford’s eyes darken every time he mentions him…well, he can piece things together on his own. Some people aren’t worth remembering. That’s okay.

One of the periods in his life he struggles to remember much of is the ten years before he arrived in Gravity Falls. Ford doesn’t know much about them, either. When a memory from then resurfaces, it can be…really shitty. Sometimes, when a relapse happens and it involves something from his years being homeless, it gets a lot harder to calm Stan down. Especially since all the memories he’s remembered from then so far have been what his niblings would call ‘unfairly traumatic’. Stan knows by now where he got all his survival skills, at least.

There are a few memories from when he first got on the streets that aren’t so bad. A few failed attempts at cheap products that got him banned in some places. He vaguely remembers his Stan Vac, the whole not-rash-causing rash-causing bandaids, little things like those. His leaky towels that made stains worse.

His drive up through Mount Tammany.

Stan remembers a particular night from that. Getting banned from New Jersey and trying his luck in the next state over. Dark nights where the skies were perfect for stargazing if he’d only let himself stay still for a few minutes. But then again, staying still for even a second on the road is the kinda thing that gets ya killed. So. He can always stargaze now, though. Ford always watched the stars when they got the chance at sea. Maybe they can do that again, now, in a place that doesn’t involve a surprising constant of sea-bound critters out ta get their asses.

The fucking point: he remembers sitting in his car on the roadside, alone, in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain, getting all teary over his stupid fucking hands. He’d shifted them by accident, and suddenly six fingers replaced five. Missing Ford did that kinda shit, he supposes. Intertwining a five-fingered hand with a six-fingered one nearly broke him. Stan can punch a pterodactyl in its damn face, but he’s weak when it comes to his family. To his brother.

Stan hopes Ford never finds out about it. He hopes he does find out about it. It’s a complicated mess of things.

They sit in the chairs in the living room. Some rerun of an earlier Ducktective episode plays at low volume, perfect for background noise. Ford noticeably has a notepad and a blue-inked pen out on his lap. Stan’s counting down the seconds it takes for his brother to ask whatever questions he has on his mind. It only takes about thirty seconds for him to burst. A new record, really.

“Can I ask you a few questions about your shifting?” Ford’s eyes twinkle like the fucking stars.

Stan shrugs, genuinely open to it, “Sure, why not.”

Ford’s excited little smile is plenty of reward for agreeing to this. He knows if he said no, Ford would back off. He’d be a bit disappointed, yeah, but he’d back off. Brothers are like that, y’know.

His brother readies himself with his pen and all, eagerness leaking off him like some weird mist or something.

“How can you shift into a mermaid but not into a partial fish shift?”

“It’s not that simple, Poindexter. There’re limits to it.”

The sound of a gliding pen across paper, “I suppose that makes sense. Even with Shifty, he had to learn through visualization before he could shift into something. Perhaps you mimic in a similar fashion,” There's a brief pause as Ford writes another note. “What are the limitations?”

“Well,” Stan grunts out a sigh, “for one, shifts hafta be made of the same base stuff that humans are. Size is another thing. Can’t shift inta somethin’ too small or too large. And, uh, partial shifts are their own thing, not very sustainable. ‘S why I gotta shift into a full merfolk instead ‘a partial fish.”

Ford nods along to his brother, scribbling notes hastily as he talks. There’s a sense of ease that blankets the air between them. Lounging in the tv room, talking, listening, just hanging out with each other. When was the last time they did shit like this? When was the last time it started to feel easy? Maybe it’s because he’s answerin’ the things that he does know about his shifting abilities, but a warmth blossoms in Stan’s chest at the realization of how much it reminds him of being kids. Yappin’ with each other. No arguin’ or nothin’, just…yappin’. It’s nice.

“Wait, so—” a readjust of Poindexter’s glasses, “Then how come you’ve shifted into partial cat eyes or…ah, the partial bear shift the kids told me about?”

“It ain’t sustainable, so it doesn’t last long,” Stan tries, though he’s pretty sure he just explained the partial shift thing. “Wouldn’t wanna randomly shift underwater, y’know? And fish shifts are always a bitch to shift in and outta.”

“Ah, I see. Why are fish—”

“The gills, nerd. Breathing’s all different an’ shit.”

“Oh, well, nevermind then.”

Stan snorts at him, and Ford playfully rolls his eyes. He writes a few more notes down. Stan taps his fingers on the arm of his chair, lightly drumming out a tuneless rhythm. A companionable silence fills the room, and for once, he doesn’t feel the need to replace it with some sort of sound. Probably because he’s already making noise with his tappin’, but still. It’s like a gentle inhale of fresh pine air, drifting around them. It’s calm. It’s as quiet as any ambience can be. It’s peaceful.

And it only lasts for a few minutes, thankfully, because Stan might’ve started tappin’ with two hands instead of one if it went on for too long. It’s still silence, after all. Nothing good has come with complete silence.

“Given what you’ve explained…how does your shifting work?” and this question has the stars in Ford’s eyes turning into spotlights that gleam onto Stan.

Stanley clicks, shrugging, “Tch, I don’t know.”

Ford glances up from his notepad, pen stilling, “What?”

“I don’t know how it works, Six.”

“How can you not know how it works? It’s your shifting!”

“I’ve been busy.”

“But you just explained—”

“I know some things, just not everything!”

“How—wait, okay. What were you so busy with that you didn’t explore your shifting more?”

The peaceful air thins. There’s a slight pressure, tension, something that threatens to smother them if they don’t tread this carefully. A choking hazard.

Stan scoffs, a biting voice, “Jeez, Six, do ya not remember bein’ shoved into a massive fuckin’ portal? And I thought I was the amnesiac.”

He winces as soon as he says it. That was a bit harsher than he intended, honestly. It’s in the past. Sure, there’re still some shit they gotta work out, but now wasn’t the time. Why is he always biting like a wounded feral dog when it comes to shit like that? What is he, a beaten hound?

Ford goes sheepish, “Oh, right…”

It’s awkward. The tense air simmers like New Mexico’s summer heat. It blazes underneath the first layer of their skin. It fizzles and crackles and makes both of the older twins fidget in their seats. Stan shifts his weight in his chair, and his finger-tappin’ gets quicker.

Ford clears his throat, “Right, well, I—thank you, Stanley.”

A small, fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Warmth fills his chest like waves of the ocean, his heart sighing pleasant beats. Ford’s said it a number of times while they were sailing. Some nights, when the beer was cold and the stars were glistening across the vast seas, they figured out talkin’ about shit. Not everything, no, not even some of the things they probably should, but they were still important things they needed to talk about. The portal was one of them. At least, some of it. The parts that Stan remembered in flashes. Memory of its entirety came back before they returned to Gravity Falls, but he digresses. They talked about some shit, and Ford made a point of saying ‘thank you’ a lot more. He still does it.

The tense air dissipates a significant amount, easing, calming, gentle.

“Yeah, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan waves it off, but he couldn’t wipe the little smile on his face if he tried. “What else ya got, huh?”

Ford shares his own little smile, glancing down briefly at his notes, “Well, let’s see…oh! How did you initially find out about your shifting?”

And the tense air returns with a sharp bite.

“Of course, if you don’t remember it,” Ford adds quickly, “Just the earliest you can remember.”

Stan considers what to do here. He’s been given an out. He can just give the easy excuse that he doesn’t remember. It wouldn’t be too far a lie, what, with how fickle his memory from that far back can be. It’s still a lie, though. He does remember that night driving through Mount Tammany. Although it may not be his first experience with his new-found shifting abilities, it is one of the earliest. It would be around the time he first found out, anyway.

And he’d promised Ford on the boat that he’d try and talk to him. They both did. They made that promise. Stan is tired of breaking things. He won’t break a promise to Ford, especially now that they’re on much better terms. He can’t risk fucking this peace up. It’s too precious now. There’s been too much work and hard nights and shed tears they’ll never comment on. Stan won’t break it for anything.

He sighs, refusing to face Ford while he does this.

“It ain’t much. Just a drive through the mountains,” he forewarns, “Nothin’ pretty, nothin’ ugly.”

Ford’s eyes widen in momentary surprise, as if he’d expected Stan to take the out. He shakes it off, leaning in slightly. An eager listener. A nod to show he understands.

Alright, we’re fuckin’ doin’ this, Stan thinks.

A gruffer sigh, “Just been banned from Jersey, I think. A few failed business ventures or whatever, and I was drivin’ up through Mount Tammany.”

Stan ignores whatever Ford’s reaction is to him being banned from their home state. He can’t handle reactions if he’s gonna commit to this. Grabbing a half-drank can of Pitt Cola, givin’ something for his hands to do. Idle hands ain’t gonna do good. He can’t risk havin’ idle hands that reach for violence and excuses. This ain’t the time for it. Not now, not now.

He swallows, continuing, “It’s dark, probably in the middle of the night. Got used ta drivin’ in late hours so much I don’t think it made a difference.”

The scene itself starts to unravel in front of his mind’s eye. He can almost see it, hear it, smell it. He keeps talking.

“Mind kept driftin’, so I had ta pull over. I was wonderin’ about…people. Where they were, how’d they been, all that. Guess they really got to me, heh.”

Ford doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. This one, he knows. He knows what Stan is like when he talks about missing Ford. It’s one ‘a those times.

“Not even twenty yet, y’know. Still young enough to have a weak stomach about things. I couldn’t keep drivin’ all those curves up in the mountains like that, else I was gonna crash or somethin’. I pull over.”

Stan has to pause for a moment, swallowing again. He tries not to get lost in the memory. He fidgets with the can in his hand, thumbing across its smooth surface. Remind himself where he is. Remember he’s in a chair next to his brother, and not breakin’ at the sight of holding a five-fingered hand and a six-fingered one together. Five plus six is eleven. It’d only been ten years when he saw Ford next after that, but it sure felt like eleven centuries with the way they’d changed.

No longer lookin’ like each other. Both scared outta their minds and desperate. They’re twins; but back then, they’d been strangers that shared a last name. Not even that. Stan’s used many names throughout the years. He’s worn many faces, too. Droppin’ his shift for the first time in years, just to see his brother, had been a lot more unsettling than he thought it’d be.

Right, explain’ Mount Tammany.

Stan shakes his head lightly, ignoring his lingering thoughts of triangular portals.

“I felt the extra fingers before I saw ‘em,” a hitch of breath besides Stan, but he continues through it, “Six fingers on each hand. The last I recall, I wasn’t the one with hands like that. Turns out I shifted ‘em without thinking.”

Stan does that sometimes. In moments of heightened emotion—distress, usually—his body decides to kick into gear without askin’ Stan first and shifts itself into whatever it deems necessary to survive the situation. He heard Wendy explain it as a trauma response once. She’d been taking this psychology class to avoid some shitty required course that had a shitty teacher. She’s smart. Gonna do some pretty great shit one day, that kid. Badass enough as it is, really. What highschooler can say they’ve survived the literal apocalypse without referrin’ to a video game?

“I was already a weak mess at that point,” Stan hesitates, thumbing the can in his hand again. Quiet noises come from Ford’s chair, and he tries to write it off as squeaky furniture. “I, uh…shifted one hand back, and…intertwined them. ‘Bout broke me. I was already fucked-up with drivin’ in the middle of the night, anyway. Y’know, lackin’ sleep and all. That shit.”

Stan cannot look in Ford’s direction after he’s finished. He keeps fiddling with the Pitt can in his hand. His other hand drums a tuneless rhythm on the arm of his chair. He can’t have idle hands. They reach for things. Reaching for Ford might not be a good idea right now. Hey, at least Stan’s actually thinkin’ for once in his damn life. Mabel’s childlike optimism is rubbin’ off ‘a him.

The quiet noises include a sniffle, and Stan feels something in his chest crack like a statue about to fall off a breaking cliff. Something’s about to break and fall into the churnin’ waters below. The sea can be just as much of a hell as it can be a comfort. Life’s like that, he supposes. Your greatest comfort can be your easiest weak point.

They sit there, not talking, not looking at each other, hardly making a sound. It’s a fragile air. It’s a thin glass sheet. They’ve had practice on the Stan ‘O War II with learning how to navigate moments like these, but this? This is something else. This is about an earlier memory of being kicked out from home. This is about when Stan learned he was just as anomalous as his brother. This is about one of the first times Stan lost a little hope. This is different. It’s fragile, and Stan’s never been good with fragile things. He breaks what he touches. He doesn’t know how to touch this without cracking the glass like a hammer to a stained glass window.

Neither of them breathe for a moment.

How the hell do you navigate a conversation like this? How did it turn into thinly-veiled raw emotion with the steadiness of a paper house? The pivot from your average sibling bickering and stupid smiles to something made of a deck of flimsy cards. A sharp pivot. A sudden pivot. Where did the fragility come from?

Ford, surprisingly, is the one to break the stained-glass window.

“Lee,” his voice is thicker, choking, full of hitching breaths and sniffling that becomes all the more noticeable with the uneasy silence.

Stan can’t help but turn to his brother as soon as that nickname is uttered. There’s a lump in his throat at the sight of Ford’s red-rimmed eyes behind the guise of his blocky glasses. He doesn’t have it in him to swallow it down.

Okay, they’re doing this. Great. This is fine.

“Six,” Stan responds, and he sounds just as bad as Ford.

He ignores the prickling droplets in his eyes.

“You—when did—” words come tumbling out of Ford’s mouth like foreign concepts of another dimension.

“It’s fine, Poindexter,” an attempt at waving things off, even with how messy their voices are right now, because he cannot stand seeing his brother look so distressed.

“It’s not fine, Stanley.”

“...It’s not.”

“You were banned from Jersey?”

Starting there, okay.

“‘S what happens when yer products are a total sham.”

“I–yes, I get that, I just…I saw the commercials. Thought you figured it out, and not…”

“You saw the commercials?”

A pause, “Ah, well, yes. It was the only time I ever saw you.”

Something about that twists a heart or two. Neither of them can tell if it’s their own or each other’s. It doesn’t matter, really. It twists all the same.

“You went through Mount Tammany?” Ford continues.

“Headed towards Pennsylvania. Business opportunities and all that.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Moses, they’re pushing towards seventy and still this awkward? What are they, pre-teens?

“Can you show me?” Ford is so quiet that Stan almost doesn’t hear him.

“Uh, what?”

“Just—you said you shifted into six fingers, so…” the shrug he gives is a little unlike him, but this entire conversation is a little unlike them. Too many emotions going ‘round in a circus display of some spin-top toy.

Well…not exactly where Stan thought this conversation would go, but it’s not a bad direction. Just show his brother that he can have six-fingered hands like he does. He’s done it before. It’s not the shift that holds a heavy weight behind it, but it’s the reason Ford’s even asking. He’s not gonna point out that Ford’s already seen him with similar hands before.

Stan tears a hole in the paper house, and he nods.

Ford watches with a gaze of…something. Careful curiosity is in there somewhere. Along with whatever else is racin’ through his damn head. Lots of things today, huh?

Stan doesn’t need to concentrate as much as he usually does with partial shifts. This one is something he’s practiced and done so often that it’s instinctual. In fact, he glances down and notices one of his hands already has six fingers. He shifts the other to match. Ford stares. He fidgets with his own six-fingered hands. They twitch like they wanna reach out. Stan feels that echo in his knuckles, his joints, the bones of his wrists and hands and even in his sockets.

Stan slowly reaches out first.

Ford spares a darting glance at his face, and he meets him halfway.

They hold hands.

The very much not-there-at-all tears glide down Stan’s face. Ford’s sniffling again as his breath hitches again. Quiet sounds flitter around the room. Little sounds. Sounds they won’t admit to making because that means admitting to crying over holding hands, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna do that. Doing that means facing the truth of how heavy it feels. Holding hands with your brother isn’t supposed to be heavy. He’s seen Mabel and Dipper hold each other’s hands, and they certainly don’t get weepy over it. Not that Stan would dare to make fun outta them if they did, no, he rather shift in and out of bein’ a fish a million times before he even thinks about doin’ such a thing.

Ford squeezes, and Stan squeezes back.

A deck of flimsy cards topples over and scatters across the floor in a whirlwind of sad old men and old wounds.

Little birds keep close together for winter.

A sparrow holds his brother’s hand, and it brings more comfort than he’d thought possible. Maybe the scared teen that drove through Mount Tammany heals a little. Maybe the lost kid that cried over his hands while stranded alone in his car starts to smile again.

A small, teary smile tugs at the corner of Stan’s mouth.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

#oatmeal ink pens #shifter stan au #gravity falls #stan pines #stanley pines #stangst #angst #part 2 #oneshot #hurt/comfort #inspired by the song Black Hole Fantasy by The Crane Wives

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kathlare · 1 month ago

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please please please

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie’s new music video shoot is full of energy, but it’s the undeniable chemistry between her and Lando that steals the show. As they navigate playful tension and flirtatious moments on set, their connection becomes more than just professional.

Wordcount: 0.9 k

Warnings: smau, fluff

request over here!

June 8th, 2024 - Los Angeles CA

liked by landonorris, zendaya, and others

ameliedayman: heartbreak is one thing, my egos another!

link in bio💋

View all 10,485 comments

landonorris: The video was hot, but I was the hottest part. 😏🔥 → ameliedayman: @landonorris You wish, babe. I was the one burning up the screen. 😘

f1gossiper69: Lando really out here living every man’s dream 😩

fashionfreak24: Omg the chemistry between you two… more than I can handle. 😍🔥

lilnorrisfan22: Can we talk about how Lando’s acting skills went from 0 to 100 real quick? 😂 → landonorris: @lilnorrisfan22 Had to step up for my girl. 😜

maxfewtrell: Song’s fire but y’all need to tone it down with all the PDA. 🤢

landonorris: PLEASE can you stop looking so good in this video, babe? 😵‍💫 → ameliedayman: @landonorris I told you, you can’t handle all of me. 😉

hayesgrier: Acting or not, Lando’s got some serious simp energy in this vid. Respect. 😂 → landonorris: @hayesgrier When it’s her, it’s not simping, it’s dedication. 😉

f1fanatic69: That was way too much, I almost passed out watching it. 😳

keeganpalmer: Damn, the way you two look at each other... I felt that. 😳🔥 → ameliedayman: @keeganpalmer Told ya, we’ve got that special spark. 😉

thisisrozzi: Y’all seriously made the whole music video a masterpiece. Proud of you, babe. 💖 → ameliedayman: @thisisrozzi Couldn’t have done it without your support, love. 😘

minniemills: Okay but how do you make heartbreak look so… chic?? Obsessed. 😍

aaliyahmendes: Queen behavior!!!

stelladayman: I don’t care what anyone says—Oscar-worthy performance, sis. 👏 → ameliedayman: @stelladayman Coming from you? High praise. I’m crying. 🥲

consarroyuelo: ¿Cómo le haces para estar TAN diosa siempre? Quiero tu secreto. 🔥👑 → ameliedayman: @consarroyuelo Solo me dejo llevar por el drama, amiga. 😉

francisca.cgomez: Obsessed with the video, the song, the vibe… EVERYTHING. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @franciscacgomez You’re my vibe. Love you. 💋

fan3: This is giving main character energy and side-eye to all the exes. Iconic. → fan4: @fan3 Bet they’re crying in their bedrooms rn. 😂

emiliamernes: Esta canción es ARTE. Ya quiero escucharla en vivo🔥 → ameliedayman: @emiliamernes Siempre un show para ti, reina. 💋

madisonbeer: Obsessed. That’s all. Obsessed. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer Takes one to know one. 😘

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

Months before...

The set was buzzing with energy. Crew members darted back and forth, adjusting lights and setting up props, while Amelie adjusted the fit of her outfit in front of the mirror. The air smelled faintly of hairspray and perfume, the low hum of chatter mixing with the faint sound of music playing from a speaker nearby. Today was the day: the shoot for her new music video for Please Please Please, and things were about to get real interesting.

She stood in front of the mirror, her hands running over the satin fabric of the dress, a subtle mix of elegance and seduction. The song wasn’t out yet, but the buzz around it was already building. The video was going to be something special—something fun, a little cheeky, just like the song itself.

—Amelie, we’re ready for you,— the director called out, waving her over to the set.

Amelie’s heart fluttered. She had been looking forward to this all week. And she couldn’t help but feel a little extra excited because today—of all days—her boyfriend, Lando, was here with her.

—Ready, babe?— Lando’s voice came from behind her.

She turned to face him, her lips curving into a grin. He was dressed in black jeans and a slightly oversized, well-worn graphic tee that only added to the effortless charm he exuded.

—I was born ready,— she said with a wink, slipping her arm through his.

Lando smirked. —I’m sure you were. But this time, you’re not getting all the attention.—

—Oh, please,— she teased. —You’re lucky I even agreed to let you be in my video.—

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. —You’re not the only one who can pull off a look like this,— he whispered.

Amelie gave him a playful shove, her smile never leaving her face. —You’re such a dork.—

But even as she said it, she couldn’t help but admire how good he looked—how good they both looked together. She had to admit, this whole idea of putting him in her video had been a bit of a wild thought at first. But now, with him by her side on set, she was excited for it.

—Alright, Amelie, Lando, you two ready?— The director’s voice cut through the playful banter.

Both of them turned to face him, ready for action.

The video concept was simple but effective. Amelie would be in the spotlight, of course, singing her heart out to the camera, but the dynamic with Lando was what would make it really special. The video was all about chemistry—about flirtation and tension—and who better to share that with than Lando himself?

The first few scenes were just her. She sang the opening lines of Please Please Please, the camera following her as she moved through a minimalistic, yet luxurious set. The lighting was soft and seductive, casting shadows in all the right places, making her look like she belonged in a dream.

Lando watched from the sidelines, his arms crossed and a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Amelie could feel his eyes on her, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her pulse quicken.

When the time came for him to join her on camera, the atmosphere shifted. Lando stepped onto the set, looking effortlessly sexy as he leaned against the bar that had been set up for the scene. The chemistry between them was undeniable from the moment their eyes locked. The director had told them to play it cool, to keep it casual—but it was impossible. Their connection was too strong to pretend.

As Amelie sang, she moved closer to him, her body swaying to the beat. Lando’s eyes tracked her every movement, his lips curling up in that way he always did when he was amused—or aroused.

Amelie couldn’t help but tease him, letting her fingers brush against his chest as she danced around him. The playful touch sent a jolt through both of them. She knew exactly how to get under his skin, and he was loving every minute of it.

—You’re distracting me,— he said, his voice low, the hint of a growl in it.

She grinned, biting her bottom lip. —You like it.—

—Damn right I do,— he muttered, his hands sliding from the bar to her waist as he pulled her closer.

The cameras were rolling, capturing every moment, but Amelie could barely focus on that. Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, his eyes dark with that familiar hunger. He was making her feel things she probably shouldn’t have been feeling while on set, but it didn’t matter.

—Lando,— she whispered, her voice a breathy tease. —Stop looking at me like that. We’re supposed to be working.—

He smirked, lowering his face until their lips were almost touching. —Who says we can’t mix business with pleasure?—

She was just about to respond when the director’s voice came through the intercom. —Okay, you two... let’s keep it professional, yeah? We don’t want to break the camera.—

Amelie let out a laugh, pulling back slightly to catch her breath. She couldn’t deny how intense the moment had gotten, and from the way Lando was looking at her, he was feeling it too.

—I think they want to see us be professional, love,— she teased, her fingers brushing through his hair.

Lando groaned, clearly frustrated. —I swear, you drive me insane.—

Amelie shot him a knowing smile. —Maybe you like that.—

The director called out again, snapping them both back into the moment. —Alright, let’s pick it up from where Lando pulls Amelie closer for the kiss. Remember, it’s playful, flirty, but no full-on makeout. We want tension, not a porno.—

Amelie and Lando exchanged amused looks before Amelie grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer. —Let’s give them a show, then,— she whispered before capturing his lips in a teasing, yet heated kiss.

It was a brief moment, just enough to get the shot they needed. The cameras zoomed in, capturing every little detail—the slight smirk on Lando’s face, the way Amelie’s body molded against his. The tension between them was palpable, and they both knew it.

As they pulled away, Amelie couldn’t help but laugh. —So much for ‘keeping it professional.’—

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her waist. —Who says we can’t have a little fun while we’re at it?—

They didn’t need to say anything else. They both knew that when the cameras stopped rolling, they’d have plenty more to discuss. But for now, they were in their element—flirty, fun, and undeniably hot together.

And just like that, the day was over. The last take was wrapped, the crew began to pack up, and the set slowly emptied out. But as Amelie and Lando stood there, the energy between them hadn’t died down.

—You really do make everything fun, don’t you?— Amelie said, looking up at him with a smile.

—I try,— he replied, his hands finding her waist again as he pulled her in close. —You make it too easy.—

And with that, they walked off set together, ready to face whatever the night might bring.

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crazyyluvr · 6 months ago

Text

Gotta put Some Color in the Miserable Place — Much to Dirtyhands' Liking

pairing: kaz x gn!reader

summary: A famous graffiti artist has been roaming around Ketterdam for a while now. It was about time you set your sights on the Slat, bare and just waiting to be painted on. A certain gloved man didn't exactly like that.

genre: idk how to label it but it's the beginning of something

wc: 2.3k

content: art-inclined reader, they/them pronouns, kaz getting annoyed, ooc kaz? not sure how to write him properly yet, spraypaint exists because I need it to, fighting

note: just a little something to get me out of my slump — it sucks, i'm sorry

oneshot under the cut :: not edited :: part 1/?

Ketterdam wasn't known to be the most luxurious of cities in Kerch. Yes, it did have places where people with money could settle down and quality napkins for them to wipe their buttcheeks on, but the "slums" part of the city overpowered that luxury. There were numerous criminals, thieves, pickpockets, and people of other illegal occupations roaming around the streets, especially the streets of the West Stave. At every alley, there would be at least some signs of a beating that occurred not too long ago. Even when people inhaled the air, it didn't feel clean.

One of your biggest concerns about the city, however, wasn't about how cleanly it was. What worried you the most was about how damn plain it seemed to be.

Where was the color? The flare? Come on, if people around the lands travel to Kerch for business, they might as well have some pretty things to look at as they cautiously walked on the streets.

You took it upon yourself to rectify that. Which was why, for the past two years, you have been one of the most sought-after criminals of Ketterdam that everyone called the “Painter”. Not because you murdered people or stole kruge, no. It wasn't even because of the fact that you decided to spray your art without permission.

It wasn't really the art that concerned other people (most of the time), but rather where you decided to put it up.

Plain old alley walls weren't the only victims of your spray bottles. Your style ended up on the main doorways of well-known brothels like the Menagerie, or the ground leading to the secret bases of different gangs. It made you a target not only of officers, but of other criminals as well. You may or may not have been the cause of the Dime Lions losing one of their main strongholds to a rival gang because you put skipping stones of Pekka Rollins' name leading to it.

You were flattered by the attention people were putting on you, but you felt unsatisfied. You had tried to put at least a little bit of your art on every visible wall of the West Stave and some of the East Stave as well, but there was something missing. Like there was one part of the Ketterdam map that hasn't been colored by you.

You got the answer to your problem one mundane day, while you were coming back from the market with a bag of groceries.

The Slat.

You had no idea why it hadn't hit you sooner. Sure, the Slat was the home of the Crows besides their bar "The Crow Club." Sure, the gang had been gaining a dangerous reputation this past year. Sure, the man calling the shots was scary as hell.

But it was just perfect.

You had long admired the Crows and their leader Kaz Brekker. You had spotted him going about business during late nights when you decided to test your skills by evading the Wraith that always pursued him (you hadn't been attacked by her, so you assumed that you were really good at sneaking around).

He was a man of business, a boss that liked getting his hands dirty — maybe that was how he got his nickname Dirtyhands. You don't see much of that in Ketterdam, and that interested you quite a bit.

Not to mention he was attractive in his own, ghostly way.

The Slate was also one of the very few canvases that you had left blank in this wretched city due to some unknown and unconscious reason, but now you had just the perfect artwork in mind for it.

—————

Kaz was in a bad mood today.

He woke up to his leg in pain. Well, it was always in pain, but it felt particularly worse that day. He almost face-planted while hobbling down the stairs in the Slat.

He had a small heist, with just him, Jesper, and Inej, but it was still messed up due to the unexpected appearance of a drunk group in the house they were robbing.

He got jumped on by some stupid pickpockets, idiots who were unaware of his identity and his reputation. He didn’t obtain any injury, but the blood that still stained his black gloves and his long black coat made him feel disgusting.

Just when he thought that he would find peace in the Slat, peace in just holing up in his office with no one to bother him, he limps down the streets of West Stave to the home of the Dregs to find a small crowd gathered on the side, murmuring to each other.

They were all members of the Crows, and they were all looking at something that was on the wall of the Slat.

His already creased brows creased further at the sight of the gathering. What were these idiots looking at this time?

Jesper was the first one who first saw him, eyes drifting over his blood-splattered clothes in slight concern.

“What’s going on?” Kaz asked, not giving Jesper the opportunity to worry over him.

“It seems that the Painter finally set their eyes on the Slat,” Jesper replied, his voice containing its usual mischief and mirth.

Kaz forged onwards, making the sharpshooter step aside to make way for Dirtyhands.

The small crowd parted for him as well, conversations dying down to small murmurs as Kaz got a better look at what they were ogling at.

He had to blink to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

When “the Painter” left Jesper’s mouth, Kaz wanted to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. The days when infamous the Painter set sights on establishments or gang bases were the days when gangs or businessmen would get publicly humiliated by the art on their walls. Normally, it would ridicule the head of the place (The Menagerie spent a significant amount of money to wash off and paint over the caricature of Tante Heleen in a horrid neon green outfit) or reveal some interesting gang secrets (two gangs were exposed to be stealing from each other and there was a little war between them).

Which was why Kaz had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing it right.

The artwork on the side of the Slat was a large mural of the Dregs’ signature crow perched on the lip of a cup, but a trail of black roses swirled around it in a spiral. Surrounding it was the Crows’ motto “no mourners, no funerals” in black and white. The irregular red and white shape behind it all emphasized everything, making it look like a banner rather than something someone actually took the time to spray on a wall.

It was unlike any artwork that was spotted anywhere in the city.

And even Kaz, who’s never had any particular interest in art, had to admit that it was nice. Flattering.

Beautiful, even.

"The Painter has their favorites, huh?" A Crow chuckled, making his mates laugh and shake their heads.

"If everyone's done having a staring contest with the wall," Kaz called, making everyone turn to their boss, "get back to work."

And just like that, they lost their interest in the artwork and dispersed. Some drifted away to different alleys to visit some gambling house, most passed by Kaz to finish some unfinished business of theirs, and others went back inside the Slat.

Kaz felt a familiar presence beside him. "Can you find this Painter, Inej?"

The Wraith that appeared out of nowhere replied, "I can try, but they're slippery."

Kaz rose an eyebrow, curiosity piquing. Someone who can evade his best spider? Now that caught his attention.

"Do it. Bring them to me," Kaz said, dismissing her with a wave. He didn't have to look to know that Inej had dissolved into the shadows.

He examined the mural once more, the barest ghost of a smirk on his face. Maybe you can come around to work for me, "Painter".

—————

You were having a good time.

If running away from some angry traders was something people would consider a good time.

"I'll kill you!" One of the men chasing you bellowed, hurling a stone that hit a wooden pillar dangerously close to your head.

You laughed, a manic cackle that only came from someone facing a certain death.

You leaped over crates, weaved through people with barely any gracefulness that would have made dancers feel second-hand embarrassment, but you didn’t care. Being chased around West Stave was one of the best things to do in Ketterdam, and you were enjoying every single bit of it.

You turned left into a random alley, only to find that it was a dead end. You looked upwards, but found only ladders that led to heavily-barred windows. You were trapped.

"Nowhere left to run, scum," A man laughed, his companion grinning as well.

You turned to flash them a charming smile. "Actually there is one way, but you're blocking it, so if you'd kindly move aside so I can peacefully make my leave."

They both looked at each other before turning back to you. "Not until we've got our money."

You pretended to think for a moment, not knowing what they mean, until you widened your eyes. "Oh! The money! That's what you were after? Why didn't you just say so?"

You rummaged through your deep pockets. "Here it is!"

You took a few quick steps forward and took out a spray can, squeezing it and drifting it over the closest man's eyes, creating a thick yellow line across his face.

The man yelled and stepped back in surprise, prompting you to catch his heel in yours and pull, making him fall.

You bent down to punch him twice before rummaging in his pockets, taking out a few loose coins and pocketing them.

You turned to face the other guy, who you found already on the ground with a figure standing above him.

The Wraith.

"Oh." Your gaze alternated between the sudden assistance and the man on the ground, before you decided to focus on the one standing and smiling at them. "Thanks for your help, Miss Wraith. Now, if you don't mind, I'll take my leave —"

You turned, only for Inej to block your exit, making you sigh. "What is it that you want from me this time?"

"For you to come with me to the Slat," Inej responded, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the alley.

You sighed again. This was going to be a long day.

—————

"Look, if this about money, I don't have any. I'm very broke." You stared at the man sitting in front of you, a desk separating him from your standing figure.

The Bastard of the Barrel didn't respond to your statement, opting to just look at you, his eyes examining your movements.

You let the silence drain on for a few more seconds before you lost patience. "What do you want?" You asked, frustrated.

"You're the Painter," He responded, putting his elbows on his table and lacing his gloved fingers together.

You waited for a moment, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't continue, you replied. "Yes."

"Everyone in Ketterdam is aware of your reputation to leaking powerful people's information," Kaz finally continued. "But that's not what's interesting. What intrigues me, is how you acquire the information in the first place, when the Wraith has never spotted you out in the open other than spraying on some random wall."

You shrugged. You had your ways, and if the Dirtyhands didn't know your methods, then there was no way you could reveal them. "I have my ways."

Kaz rose an eyebrow. "I can have you killed right here and now, did you know that?"

"And I’ve gotten out of these chains three minutes ago, did you know that?" You mocked him, shrugging the cuffs off and tossing them on his table. Inej moved, pulling out a dagger. Kaz put up his hand, and Inej paused, waiting.

You approached the desk, putting your hands on it and leaning forward, leaving half a feet of space in between your face and Kaz's.

"You want to know my methods so you can have the Wraith master them and use them," you said, leaning a bit more. "But then she can't. No one in this place can do what I can."

"I suppose there's an underlying deal somewhere in those words," Kaz hummed, seemingly unfazed by the distance.

You grinned. "Indeed there is. I can work for you, as long as I get paid. I'll do my thing, get your information, even infiltrate a few places if you like."

"Hmm," Kaz thought about it for a moment. "Two thousand kruge for each mission."

You paused. That would be enough to buy your food and pay your rent for a week or two, maybe even enough for some new clothes.

Yeah, you didn't have that good or luxurious of a lifestyle, but hey, money is money.

"Alright," You decided, sticking your hand out to seal the deal.

Kaz stared at your hand for a moment, before taking it. You pulled him up from his chair, face now barely away from yours. "If you think about double-crossing me and leaving me out in the cold, then you risk some of your own information being revealed... Rietveld." Your voice was barely louder than a breath, words only for Kaz’s ear.

His eyes widened, looking at you. Just the mere mention of his old last name, the one he shared with his brother, was enough for the water at his ankles to pool around his knees.

But you had already pulled away, brushing against the Wraith with a nod as you left the office without another word.

"What was that?" Inej asked — more like demanded.

Kaz didn't spare her a glance, his eyes glued to the door. It took him a long pause to reply.

"The start of another painful alliance," Kaz muttered, running his hand through his hair.

The start of something indeed.

#six of crows #six of crows x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #grishaverse #soc #soc x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader

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cedarwoodtears · 23 days ago

Note

anything u wanna say abt until dawn?? it can be hcs, theories, whatever comes to ur mind :)

not to be creepy but i wanna hear you yap abt until dawn 😭

HI ANON so sorry im sick so i slept in. its not creepy at all dont worry hehe ill gladly talk about this stupid game all day!!! honestly its all gonna be random hcs not much correlation whatsoever

• mike is NOT a gamer. especially fighting games oh lord as much as he tries he just cannot. he’s like a permanent noob. i fear even a 90 year old grandma can match his level…doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy those games! just that he sucks at it. whenever he plays with chris or josh it’s like watching a murder unfold infront of your eyes….it’s brutal. but i mean hey with having two amputated fingers you can’t blame him. he’s surprisingly good at rhythm games though. when you think of mike i doubt you think of osu or pjsk but god DAMN he’s weirdly good.

• chris is everyone’s go-to tech support guy. your phone is being slow? your computer isn’t working? can’t figure out where your file went? just ask and he will 99.99% of the time help fix it. not before teasingly calling them old teehee he tries to explain how to prevent it from happening again but he uses all these technical mumbo jumbo terms it flies over most peoples heads. mike likes hearing chris ramble about all that though, even if he doesn’t understand it he thinks it’s adorable…(chris x mike is REAL ITS REAL!!! still calls him a dork though. always he always will. because it’s true and mike loves him for it.)

• i ideally imagine sam’s room to be the MOST comfortable place on earth. like there’s always some candle going, cute little plants everywhere, warm tones, fairy lighting, fuzzy blankets, like it’s just a room you’d feel so safe in!!! and oh my god does she always have the best snacks. movie nights at her house go CRAZYY it’s literally the ideal spot. the gang get together every so often and have them, but sam really goes all out with the snacks and drinks and decor!! josh gets a $5 entry fee just because hes josh hehe (not really but i like to imagine josh is always like “i owe you one!” when it ends..he pays in kisses and cuddles)

• jessmatt is REAL their potential relationship dynamic is so cute!!! i feel like mike is definitely not the right guy for her, matt is more mellow which imo suits her better. him and emily are cute but….idk. all i know is matt would be an absolute sweetheart to jess, like he’d spend hours looking for perfects gifts for her and remind her of how beautiful she is inside and out constantly….always admiring her and hyping her up whenever she gets insecure….i can’t sobs she’s just as sweet back to him. jess isn’t that into sports but you best believe she will ALWAYS cheer him on in football (sometimes matt gets embarrassed from how loud she does…..) and she always has some little treat for him after he wins.

• ashley having such a creative and talented mind…not only can she write, she loves pottery and painting and occasionally knitting…everyone has a handmade gift from ash somewhere in their house. and it’s not like a quick little thing no she takes her TIME!!! and it always comes in a box with a pink bow and a heartfelt note attached to it!! she is just so babygirl. always so thoughtful and imaginative her room is full of posters and her own art and it’s all so colorful and BEAUTIFUL!!!! and oh so humble she tends to downplay her skill like girl you just wrote the most gut-wrenchingly divine well-thought out absolutely incredible piece of fiction and she’s like “it’s not the best 😓” and everyone is like “ash what the hell do you mean this is the best thing i’ve EVER read”

• josh and sam….ough….ough my heart💔❤️💔❤️……as much as sam was traumatized and by everything that went down and is still somewhat hurt by his actions, she’s still there for josh. still holds him close and comforts him, still tells him it’s all going to be okay, still lets him know he’s loved, still kisses his forehead and runs her fingers lovingly through his hair….sobs so loudly AHHH!! of course they’re still pranksters to each other. the amount of dumb pranks josh pulls on her nothing is safe hehe he’s always scheming. his favorite is the whoopee coushin because it’s so dumb and incredibly unfunny it actually physically pains her while he’s laughing his ass off fucking in HYSTERICS over how unamused she is…little does he know sam’s got some tricks up her sleeve too…

• emily’s closet is UNMATCHED!!! her habit of spending ridiculous amounts of money on clothes has only furthered but no one can lie she is just…amazing with dressing. she loves going clothes shopping with the girls and somehow always manages to find something that they all love!! she’ll help the guys too but….eh…..not really her cup of tea (men’s fashion that is). she’s made up with jess and they’re friends now, but emily will always stay emily and make her sharp, witty comments about everyone and everything teehee. she is so caring and kind deep down though, and an even better friend to get advice from!! just don’t ask her how to save money better ahem she can’t help with that 😅

• also mike went back and got wolfie. they’re best friends mike has hundreds of photos of him literally just sitting. being cute. half his posts on instagram are wolfie. he has so many damn nicknames for that wolf it’s crazy he’s already forgotten like half of them. wolfie could literally tear apart his house and after awhile of him being mad he’d be like “but he’s so cute….i can’t stay mad at you bud who’s a good boy” mike your couch is unrecognizable he is NOT a good boy for that 😭❌🙅‍♂️

#until dawn #until dawn headcanons #michael munroe #emily davis #joshua washington #christopher hartley #ashley brown #matthew taylor #jessica riley #sam giddings #i love these guys #the autism is strong with this one #sobs and cries #these stupid little GUYS

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kaleidoscopic-quiddity · 2 years ago

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reading the bluelock light novels and theres so many fun lil character traits and info thrown in (probably not on the wiki bc the LNs dont have an official english release yet)

isagi was a crybaby and a scardy cat as a kid

he was also really senitive to sounds and they’d make him cry (he just like me fr)

isagi’s always had really great spacial awareness and vision, even as a toddler

nagi lived at student dorms at hakuho academy (which explains why his parents dont live w/ him)

he got into hakuho, an elite tokyo prep school, with only two weeks of studying

there were two different rumors abt nagi amongst his classmates, one saying if you talked to him you’d be cursed with bad luck and the other saying youd find happiness after talking to him, the curse rumor is more popular

(nagi my poor guy, his classmates think hes a weirdo just bc hes quiet an not interested in rich kid pissing contests)

he also has the nickname of ‘thousand year netaro’ bc he sleeps in class so much lmao

he doesnt study but still gets good grades, at least in social sciences

nagi helps his class win a volleyball tournament (that he was forced to participate in) despite knowing nothing abt the rules purely based off of his height, reflexes, trapping skills, and desire to finish the game quickly so he can go home lmao

bachira refers to his mother by her given name, yuu, which would typically be disrespectful af in japanese culture but in this context i think it just displays how close they are + the fact that bachira’s first/best friend is his mama :’)

he walked (dribbled), slept rough, and hitchhiked all the way to osaka from chiba prefecture for 5 days just to go see one of her art exhibitions too

he got a fortune from a shrine that literally read that he will meet his “ 運命の相手” - unmei no aite, literally ‘partner of fate’ or ‘fated partner’, bachisagi soulmate-isms r crazy

he won a 4 on 1 fight with a bunch of delinquents in osaka

rin liked ice cream but really he’d be happy with anything as long as sae bought it for him

the itoshi bros played for the kamakura united youth club, which won the U15 national league

they shared a bedroom growing up

rin gets bad grades in every subject other than english bc hes too busy thinking abt football, and hes only good at english bc he wants to go pro and play internationally

rin got into horror movies and games only after sae left for spain, he likes the thrill they give him, especially splatter films

he found a scene of someone getting chopped up w/ a chainsaw calming after he had a rough day,, damn okay rin in there anything u wanna talk abt edgelord?

“Perhaps because of this stress, he has recently been watching shark movies at night, where sharks attack humans. It’s refreshing to see a giant man-eating shark attack and munch on humans.” what a fuckin chuuni oml

sae got trending on japanese football twitter for scoring a hattrick for real madrid’s youth team

rin did the tongue-out-in-concentration/bloodlust thing pre-bluelock too apparantly

he didnt talk to sae whilst he was in spain bc he didnt want to bother him but he kept up news of him and thought abt him a lot

“He thought he would just shout out loud “I'm the best in Japan!” and hug him, but in reality, that didn't work out that way” <- rins first thought seeing sae after 4 years, excuse me whilst i sob

chigiri went to a ‘jitsugyo’ school, which is like a vocational tech or business school, it also has a foreign name (’lacosute’) so its probably a private school, maybe missionary?

chigiri likes cats awww, there was specially a stray black cat he’d talk to and buy karinto manju for

his ACL is attached to his knee in an odd which which is why he can run so fast

chigiri stopped cutting his hair after he quit going to his school’s football club once he finished rehab for his knee

reo got baya to hire him a whole team of ppl including a coach, nutritionist, nurse, etc once he decided on football, fuckin rich ppl i swear

all the adults who worked w/ reo sing his praises but also said how cheeky he was lmaooo

reo was learning english, spanish, and german in preperation for going pro

he also got a specially made football training VR facility made for him this boy i swear

reo bribed the hakuho football club w/ fancy meat and the opportunity to meet idols to get them to put more effort in

immediately upon meeting nagi reo notices his height and how ‘cool’ and ‘intense’ his trapping is like okay fruit

#bluelock #bluelock light novels #isagi yoichi #nagi seishiro #bachira meguru #itoshi rin #chigiri hyouma #mikage reo #og post //

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katerinaaqu · 3 months ago

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Ismarus! Ismarus! (P3 + Afternote)

Continuation from Part 2 So October 6th had been a special day to me because two very good artists have posted art from the OG works of the epic cycle and were kind enough to consider my help! I am immensely honored! The artists are of course @jacobpking with the amazing odyssey project and @shafeeyaart with the three main couples So I had to finish my fic now as you remember dedicated also to my friend @artsofmetamoor and her amazing art! Followed by my usual notes and afternote!

He shook the helmet so that the stones remaining in it would be mixed better. As one hand reached in and picked one was followed by a yelp of triumph and a disappointed moan from another direction.

“On your face, Nicolaus!” the soldier who obviously got the price he wanted called back to his friend, “She’s mine!”

“Damn you, lucky bastard!” his friend grunted as he saw the other take the woman-prize he had won in the lottery, “I should fucking kill you! Always with that rotten luck of yours!”

“Hey, hey!” Odysseus called out warningly, “Enough with this!”

He was holding these helmets for hours now; making sure that all ships got their share one by one in sharing the spoils and the slaves that were to be taken with them during their trip. Somehow Odysseus had a bad feeling about this; they had started this whole campaign to get provisions; carrying extra load and mouths to feed seemed a bold and counterproductive move. However leaving them behind was also a risky decision. Slaves and gifts could be exchangeable to lands they would encounter if there would be a need for more provisions or hospitality gifts. Although he knew some of his men wouldn’t want to part with them. He remembered Troy again; how they got divided in the 9th year of the fight, over a concubine. He looked over to the sides where the old and the new captives were. Some of them were also his own; working as servants among the troops and taking care of the horses of his chariot. For one second he remembered his long lost youth; he had lain with women before. Servants and some slaves had passed from his bed before that blessed trip to Sparta; some were skilled and willing, one or two were worried and scared of him or his status.

During the war, for one or two moments of desperation and longing he had considered it; to take one of them again. However the very moment they were before his eyes, he felt disgusted with the idea and his weakness for even considering it; ending up sending them away. The slave women that he had taken from his days of fight and plunder seemed empty in his eyes now. It wasn’t the abstinence that made him so restless to go home though. Oh, he wished his wife was here to embrace her and apologize to her for his absence! He wanted to fall in her arms and kiss her like no tomorrow; forget himself in her bosom and cry till he wouldn’t have any more tears to shed; he wanted to beg her for forgiveness for letting war turn him to what he became! He shook his head violently, to lift those thoughts away (and possibly some tears that threatened to burn his eyes) returning to the lottery. The spoils were almost completely done and shared. He sighed.

“Eurylochus, finish this, please…” he said leaving the helmet to the hands of his brother-in-law, “I am tired. I also need to inspect the rest”

“As you wish, sire…”

Odysseus stood at the middle of the men who were admiring the spoils they would get. He looked around the mountains already turning dark by the dusk as the sun had set to the other side of the horizon. There was something ominous about the mountains and they were exposed. They couldn’t seek shelter in the city that was almost burnt to the ground by that moment so they had to camp by the beach and the fact that they had only the sea and the mountain for escape routes was something he didn’t like. The mountain was almost threatening now!

“Alright, men!” he called over the voices of discussions and laughter, making sure all had their ears on him, “We finish the sharing and we set ourselves to go! We are exposed here. You had your fun, now we embark to go!”

“Go?” one of the generals, the one who had complained upon the other man getting a better woman said, “We sailed for five days in a storm and we spent the entire day fighting and now you want us to embark again for the unknown in the middle of the night?”

Odysseus looked at him in disbelief.

“What part of ‘we’re exposed’ don’t you understand?” he yelled back, “We are but a handful of people, we are in a foreign land surrounded by unknown mountains! Anything could attack us at any moment and we will be unable to react! I am not discussing it! We’re leaving!”

“No!” one other general said firmly as he stood up, “We won’t leave! We earned a day of peace! Let us at least sleep in dry land for once!”

“Are you defying my order?” Odysseus’s eyes sparkled warningly

“We cannot follow that order now, sire!” the man stood his ground, “You can’t demand from us to sail so early!”

“You heard what Odysseus said!” Eurylochus came in, “This place is not secure! We will take turns resting out the sea! His judgment hasn’t failed us yet!”

“We can’t travel like this!” the first one spoke again, “You cannot force us to travel in the black night like this!”

The king of Ithaca was fuming. His hands and his entire muscle system were clenched painfully. He was almost ready to grab him and punch some sense into him. He couldn’t indeed transfer his true agony and worry that the location wouldn’t be favorable to them.

“Odysseus…” Eurylochus touched his shoulder whispering, “I understand you. You are right but everyone is exhausted from battle. And we have some more wounded to take care of and better do this on dry land…”

“Dammit!” Odysseus growled in defeat

Yes, he wouldn’t be able to force his men to follow his orders if they refused to move. As he pranced about the camp that was about to be set for a night under the stars he also watched the slaves that would be taken with them; women and children that were free a few hours prior. Their eyes were hateful; resentful. For once moment they looked like Trojans in his eyes. He shook his head trying to lift the thoughts away again.

“Sire” Perimedes spoke, he was in charge of them for that night, “Shall we move them to the ship?”

“No” Odysseus growled in annoyance, “We are supposed to stay here”

One of the tied women laughed loudly. He knew her. She was the wife of the king he had killed in battle. She was dragged out with her children along with the rest of them. Her children were set aside to be shared in the lottery. She, herself, was offered to him as a prize. Initially he had refused insisting that all should go in lottery but his men had insisted. In one way the king of Ithaca dismissed it and kept her. He wouldn’t find much use of her now anyways. She was a handsome woman with long brown locks and big brown eyes. However her beauty was insignificant to him; not to mention that the symbols of her people tattooed on her made him feel even more the danger and the disturbance inside him every time he looked at her direction. And now there was her laughter; laughter full of anger and contempt. Odysseus, with his nerves already tensed he approached and grasped her by the rope that was tying her, pulling her towards him threateningly.

“What’s so funny, huh?” he demanded

The woman spat a few words at her dialect.

“I’ll need a translator here!” Odysseus called to whoever might hear nonchalant

“Oh, I’ll give you a translator!” the woman spat in her heavy accent

“Oh, good” Odysseus said feeling a sense of déjà-vu as he almost repeated the words he had said to her late husband, “You speak our language! I had begun to fear that I need to learn more languages! My Phoenician is kinda rusty and whatever Scythian I picked up at Troy won’t help me with you!”

“Your arrogance will not save you, Greek!” the woman spat at him again, “My people will come like the rain and get you! Your days are over! You and your men shall not survive this!”

Anger boiling inside him, Odysseus grabbed her hair, earning a light yelp from her. He had to try very hard not to feel the fever of battle inside him again. He knelt down and pulled her closer to him, his faces inches apart from hers, eyeing her warningly with his eyes sparkling like the fire that forged the obsidian, the stone that had colored them!

“Listen here, madam!” he whispered dangerously, “If there is something I know best, is to survive! Mark my words on that! I would be more worried about myself than anything else!”

He released her and stood up. He began walking away ignoring whatever comments Perimedes and the rest of his companions would make about her being feisty or whether he had made a good choice for his war prize. That entire dialog disgusted him right now! The woman hissed again before growling a few words and then one more, directed to him. Odysseus winced but he kept going, not looking at her at all. He knew enough Thracian dialect to know what the word she said meant;

Monster

The fire was blazing at the beach but this time it was not the city burning to the ground but the multiple cooking blazes that his men had lit up. Odysseus could hear all around the sounds of cattle and sheep being slaughtered and prayers being said and sacrifices being offered. His men had also taken out some of the jugs of wine and were already mixing the red liquid to craters. Some members of his crew who knew how to play music were already setting up the instruments for dance and celebration. Odysseus could see none of that. He was constantly looking around, double-inspecting everything. In fact he refused to remove his gear. After cleaning himself and making a prayer to the gods, he demanded his armor to be placed upon him once more, his chariot inspected, fixed if necessary and ready. He could barely concentrate to his food and drink. He sighed as he sat against the root of a sea tree watching at his men dancing and drinking themselves to their heart’s desire, celebrating as if it was the end of Troy anew. Odysseus grunted and shivered a bit at the cold of the night.

“Fools!” he thought, “Mindless fools! You are getting drunk and celebrating at the footing of the enemy! Gods I wish I could just take my own ship and leave you all behind! But…UGH!”

He sighed to himself passing his hands over his face. What was he thinking?! All of them came to this together and they should leave together! Maybe he was being too paranoid. Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe, just maybe, the Cicones wouldn’t arrive later. Maybe they weren’t so many as he feared. And maybe, just maybe, the queen was only trying to scare him.

“Hey…”

The soft voice of Polites made him literally jump out of his skin for one second. He gasped and then drew a deep breath.

“Polites!” he sighed, “You scared ten lives out of me…”

“Sorry…”

“Never mind, my friend…I am just too distracted”

He sighed gratefully as a fleece was placed upon his shoulders by Polites. He embraced it tightly around his body before double-checking that his spear was there.

“Come sit with us by the fire” Polites suggested, “It has gotten chilly”

“No thank you” Odysseus retorted, blowing some air to his hands, “I need to be here and observe the area”

“You placed guards by the camp remember?”

“Irrelevant!”

He drew a breath and tried to collect himself.

“I don’t like this, Polites…” he whispered, “We should have gone when we had the chance! This is madness! Everyone acts as if we are back in Ithaca with no worry in the world!”

“I understand, Odysseus, but still…”

“We should be on our way home now!” Odysseus insisted stubbornly, “And yet…yet we…”

He sighed and extended his hand to Polites. Polites handed him over his goblet and Odysseus took a gulp of wine in thought before returning it to him. He eyed his men again, celebrating, dancing and oftentimes having their way with the women they had acquired or had brought with them from Troy; some were willing, some coldly accepting their fate, some did not seem so. His mind went back to Cassandra again; the way her body was barely covered by her torn clothes; her face disfigured with tears…the Locrian Ajax seeking shelter to the very same place he did the deed…

“I just hope I am wrong about this…” he whispered, “For the first time in my life I wish I am wrong, Polites!”

Yet another round of deafening silence passed between them. Odysseus wanted to scream; to cry out to his men to at least remain sober that night…but he felt helpless; as if nothing he would say would work even if he tried.

“Go to eat, Polites…” he encouraged his friend, “I’ll be fine, really”

“You sure? I can stay if you want”

“Better not” Odysseus said gloomily, “I want to be alone for a while, Polites. Thanks for the fleece…and the wine. I needed it”

“No problem…” Polites said worriedly.

He didn’t like that shadow over Odysseus’s eyes ever since they took Troy. Ever since he was so affected by their own win he was always jumpy and moody however everything seemed to be turning darker in him ever since the final preparations after the celebrations for taking the city. What had happened in Troy that made Odysseus such? What were they doing deep in the city, away from all other eyes that made Odysseus moan and groan in his sleep almost every night? He didn’t dare to ask. He obeyed the order as he stood and left.

Odysseus was left alone again…alone in his thoughts and dark memories. The fall of Troy…the slaughter of innocents…the baby king thrown off the walls…the contempt and judgment…the rape of Cassandra…the yells and cries of Hecuba and finally the most terrifying of all the darkness falling over the eyes of Polyxena…as he held her wrists down; he felt her pulse erasing and finally Hecuba yelling; screaming and almost plucking his eyes out as she was slowly losing her mind in grief… And now there was the bloodlust and the taking of Ismarus that made them all go loose again… He covered his face with his hands as if that could stop the thoughts emerging.

“Fools!” he thought again in despair, “Don’t you see? We need to go home! We need to go back as soon as possible! We must be free from this curse! From war…”

Somehow he knew that was not true. War and battle was inside them. They almost craved for it now. It almost felt like the only reason he was staying was so to see the next battle happening!

“Woe is me!” he thought, “Woe is us! Fools! At least remain sober! We are exposed to danger! We need to go home! They shall come…!”

And yet he couldn’t leave them behind and go. No, he couldn’t leave them. He was afraid for his life in the case of an attack but he couldn’t leave anyone behind! What king would he be to them unless he stuck around till the end? What leader would it make him if he picked up what he could carry and run by himself? He had tried to keep the kings united in Troy. How could he divide his men now? Fear and desire for return were eating his heart. His mind and legs were telling him to run; to go to his ships, gather those who had some sense to leave and go but his heart was divided. He had made a promise to them; that he would try to see them all to his best abilities come back. He once more looked up the mountains, feeling this primal fear a boar feels when going to the waterfront to drink, while smelling the hounds from afar and yet has no choice but to go or else it would die.

“Father Zeus please let me be wrong about this…let me be wrong…”

As the moves and cries and laughter and dance of his men was almost hypnotizing to him, he made that last prayer…

And he didn’t know what was the thing he wished to be wrong in the most; his fear of the possible incoming counterattack or his almost eagerness to face it?

He softly twitched and that shook him awake. Had he fallen asleep? He had tried to remain awake but apparently the fatigue of the battle made him fall asleep before the crack of dawn for he didn’t remember seeing the sun coming up. There was a mist coming from the sea and the sky still had that grayish sheen of dawn. The humidity could pierce the bones and yet that wasn’t his problem. One look at his sleepy, tired eyes and saw his men sleeping at the beach; unmoving in their fatigue and their alcohol-induced sleep. The remains of their feast were scattered about the sand and the soil; cooking fires long now extinguished for there was hardly any smoke coming out of the dead embers. He moaned in pain as his body cracked from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. His hand searched for his spear that always rested by his side. He had no idea what had stirred him awake in the first place, the same much as he didn’t know how he had fallen asleep in the first place. There was this feeling of uneasiness inside him that wouldn’t leave him alone. The birds in the forest had started their morning song, the sea had started sending soft waves with the low tide; the ships were creaking from where they were tied at the shallow waters. Everything seemed quiet. Perhaps too quiet for his tastes! Like the man who got baked by the constant noise of battle, this easiness was foreign to him now; unnatural. And all of the sudden, as his men were barely stirring awake; he heard a distant base note coming from the forest. It seemed like a distant call of a deer to its potential mate. Odysseus jolted to his feet; bronze spear clasped in his hand for dear life. The sound was heard again. His dizzy mind then came back to actual action like the hunter that came back from a long pause finally realizing the sound’s meaning.

“AMBUUUUUUUUSH!” he yelled on top of his lungs rousing everyone

Not fast enough. Too late.

Terrible battle cries and the deafening stampede of feet running down the mountain blocked all his senses as the horde of the Cicones jumped out of the forest and lashed upon his unsuspected comrades, wielding knives and swords and spears. His defenseless comrades or perhaps those who had more than enough to drink the night before barely had time to react when knives slit their throats from side to side; blood gushing out at the color of ruby, before they had even time to get up. Others barely had time to react; grabbing upon their weapons that lay by their sides.

“GUAAAAARDS!” Odysseus called upon those who were already protecting the camp, “EN GARDE! ENSSEMBLE! THEY MUST GEAR UP!”

He himself rushing upon the scene; naked sword in one hand and spear at the other as the very few and tired men that had their armor on rushed to their comrades’ assistance; those men who clumsily tried to gear up; swords or pieces of armor falling from their hands upon the sand and cordons not able to be tied in time. Odysseus feeling his wits escaping him in fear for their lives and his own he rushed upon the enemies; like a shepherd dog rushing upon the pack of wolves in blind rage and driven by the loyalty for its own masters; out of duty to protect the flock, regardless of the heart that pumped blood faster in its chest in worry and fear.

“HURRY!” He was calling in desperation, “HURRY YOU FOOLS!”

And the sound he feared the most was heard; neighing of horses. All color left his face as the strong Thracian horses emerged and their riders on top released arrows that pierced through flesh like butter.

“No!” The Man of Many Wiles cried out, “DEFENSE! COME TOGETHER!”

The order was heard but moved slowly as the shields joined together, not enough time to prepare the rest of his men. The arrows arrived bearing fire. Odysseus felt his heart sinking as he knew they barely had time to react; the Cicones had used his own trick against him now. Out of all their cries justified. Odysseus knew enough of their language to know that they were chanting; “ISMARUS! ISMARUS!”

“POLITES!” he roared, “TAKE THE MEN YOU CAN AND GO TO THE SHIPS! SAIL AWAY! NOW!”

“What!?” Polites cried out, “That would make it impossible for you to escape”

“I KNOW!” Odysseus roared, “IF THEY BURN THE SHIPS WE’RE DONE FOR! GO! GET THEM OUT OF RANGE! NOW!”

Polites needn’t hear this twice. Rushing upon the fastest and strongest of the men who hadn’t geared up yet, Polites rushed to the sea and they ran into the waves, soon swimming frantically to the ships and climbing the hulls from the ropes. Polites barked orders to them to release the sails and pull the anchors up echoed across the plane from a distance. Several heads turned towards those who were lucky enough to be slow to gear up and now they were on apparent safety upon the ships that slowly yet steadily moved towards the deep.

“TOGETHER!” Odysseus cried in the meantime, slashing with his sword the leg of a rider passing by him

He had to keep his men together; he hoped their spirits wouldn’t leave them upon seeing the ships abandoning port. They could hear Polites’s orders to the oarsmen, frantically going out of range. One or two arrows pierced the black hulls and the men in rushed upon putting the flames off before the tar on the wood were be set aflame. Odysseus grabbed a slave next to him.

“You! Come with me!”

The two of them rushed upon the chariot waiting and the Man much Enduring forced the horses to trot as his slave would take the reins. Spear and naked sword at hand he rushed upon the enemy, cutting the line of defense. However the Cicones knew his trick and they were prepared. He had time to take the lives but of a few riders before an arrow stroke one of the horses and one the wheel of the chariot. The wounded animal neighed pitifully and the other in panic took the chariot down. The slave got crushed under the heavy weight of the animal and the chariot and Odysseus was thrown off. Head buzzing by the stroke and head feeling set aflame, Odysseus struggled back to his feet. His whole body was in pain and he felt a streak of thick blood running down his temple. He moaned in pain but also feeling grateful the sand had taken most of his fall. He struggled to his uneasy feet; adrenaline hammering against his temples he forced himself to take a step and another and another; blood tickling his brow, getting in his eye. He eyed the battlefield; no, the field of slaughter as the riders would cut through some men like butter as they fell on the sand, painting it red with their blood. He saw the slaves being freed and running for cover in the forests (on occasion falling under the swords of his men or the Cicones in the heat of the battle; for no one could tell friend from foe anymore). The laughter of the woman that was his war prize came to his ears. He looked at her; somehow he had found himself close to her this time too.

“I told you!” she said triumphantly from her kneeling position; arms still tied behind her back, “You and your kin shall not escape this!”

For one moment he saw only red.

He grabbed her by the throat in a bruising grip and his sword dripping dark blood of her companions hovered over her head; ready to claim her life, against the promise he extracted from his men not to harm women or children. She faced his fierce gaze bravely even if her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets in her effort to breathe; blood vessels pumping to her forehead. His hand shook for one second; thirsty to take the blood of the person that was mocking him only to push his lips together in defeat and practically throwing the coughing and struggling for breath woman back onto the sand and running to the central field of action once more, standing before his men that were being circled by the riders and the footmen of the Cicones. He noticed a few men had managed to overthrow some enemies from their horses and now rode as well the best they could to even the odds.

“MEN!” Odysseus roared, “WITH ME!”

Trying to organize the chaos and repel the enemy was not easy but the soldiers who knew nothing but war and violence for a decade did hear the order. As they ran to their best of strength, feet digging the sand below; breaths were hissing at their throats and blood and sweat running down their faces the Cephallinians rushed forward. Odysseus felt once more as if he was floating; as if everything were in slow motion around him. Neighing of horses, screams of men, fire and whistling of arrows, clanging of metal… All became a mass in his brain, his own breath hissing to his ears; his own heart beating fast. However this time it wasn’t triumph he felt; it wasn’t like the slaughter of Troy or the conquest of Ismarus; right now it was a battle for survival…under the eyes of their terrified comrades both on and out of the ships. Some of his men lost heart and ran towards the sea in their need to escape and they were met with arrows coming from the Thracian bows. Odysseus stopped hearing anymore…

Soon he had stopped even to feel…

The dusk had come; cold and bloody; the sky matching the sand and fire in color. The beach was quiet once more; this time the quietness was heavier than anything else before for it was weighted down by death; the death of their own. Odysseus was gasping for breath; legs almost unable to hold him anymore. He had felt so only once in Troy, no, now it seemed worse for they were running upon the sand which soon was wet with thick blood. Sweat and crusted blood was covering him. He was half-staggering as he walked upwards at the path to meet his men at the top of the beach; bronze sword falling from his hands; bloody upon the very bloody sand. His comrades had driven the ships back and descended to inspect the damages. The beach was full of dead bodies; horses, warriors and slaves. Gasping for breath always Odysseus scanned the perimeter with liquid eyes full of terror. He looked towards the sea. The waves seemed to be licking the blood off the beach like unworldly tongues; a bloody offering to the god Poseidon and his nymphs; but it was not the blood of the cattle they had slaughtered the night prior; it was human blood now… Fires were still burning around, his chariot was completely destroyed and burning too like an unworldly heath along with the two horses that died upon the bloody sand, still tied to their reins. They had fought all day and somehow they had managed to repel the Cicones; killing several of their men. But at what cost… The Man Much Tormented clenched his hands to the point of his nails breaking the skin. Polites had walked a bit closer but he kept his distance as if he feared for his own life too.

“How many men have we lost?”

His voice was hoarse; whispery…inhuman.

“Odysseus…we…”

“HOW MANY!” his sudden yell made them all jump back

“S-Seventy two…” Polites stammered, “A-About 6 pairs of hands from each ship…without counting the slaves…”

The eyes of their king became bottomless; bottomless like the abyss that had claimed the lives of their companions.

“In one day…” he whispered with voice coming straight out of his wide chest, “…We lost almost as many men…as ten years in Troy…”

He was shaking; from top to bottom in primary anger. In an explosion he kicked a fallen helmet; he didn’t know if it was his or not. Screaming on top of his lungs towards the heavens. That anger he accumulated in battle didn’t seem released till that one moment. All the men surviving once more lowered their heads upon that primary anger; that fury that justified his name Furious or Anger Bringer…the rage they all now saw as justified. As the cry subsided he was left out of breath; gasping anew.

“Cursed Troy! Damn you all! Damn you all who fell by my hands! Cursed life! Cursed war!”

“Gather the dead…” he ordered in a whisper

He didn’t need to yell. Not anymore. His throat was aggravated; now it felt like it came from the depths of Hades itself and yet he didn’t need to yell to be heard. Everyone seemed to be able to hear even his thoughts now. Odysseus mopped his bloody temple with his hand.

“We must offer them a funeral. Each ship will call their own so that we will leave on time…”

“What about the barbarians?” Eurylochus dared to ask

“I don’t bloody, care Eurylochus!” Odysseus snarled at him, “Take their arms for all I care and burn them or bury them in a hole! I don’t care to think of it now!”

Taking one moment to calm himself he realized that he couldn’t leave them there. He didn’t know the customs of the Thracians but he couldn’t leave someone unburied.

“Wait…” he said, “We shall burn them too. Give them a funeral. Then their own will see what will become of them. We shall burn them”

“Yes…burn them! Let this all damn place burn!”

Eurylochus nodded. He knew it wasn’t wise to aggravate him further. The bodies were gathered and cleaned the best they could, they separated enemies from friends and poured their offerings to the dead. The arms were taken off the corpses; sad loot at the end of a battle. Odysseus had taken also a ring and a necklace from the dead body of the Queen; he had found her dead among the corpses. Was she killed in the raid by some of his own or did she end her own life? He didn’t know. She was cut loose from her binds but that was all he knew. He would be a liar if he said he felt sad for her passing. In fact he hardly felt anything anymore for her or any of the other unlucky girls that had also fallen into the battle and the commotion; some of them had survived the war of Troy only to be killed by the swords of the Cicones or their arrows upon their escape or taken by them as loot as well.

“How strange…” the king of Cephallinians thought, “We are all the same at war… Who is the civilized and who the uncivilized! Who is the Greek and who is the barbarian?”

And yet he felt nothing. He was almost numb as the cacophony of the voices were yelling different names towards the skies three times each, for the souls to be led to the afterlife… He hardly felt anything at the smell of burning flesh, so familiar to him now, from the funeral pyres set. He hardly felt the cold water as they entered the sea (also to wash the blood of themselves) and climbed to their hollow ships with anything they managed to salvage (and Odysseus congratulated himself for his prudence to add most of the food in the ships beforehand) from the beach and he barely felt a thing as his commanders barked the orders for their departure. His eyes glued upon the beach where the funeral pyres could still be distinguished against the purple-black of the dusk. Odysseus couldn’t care less if the fires burnt the forest behind or not. He felt Polites behind him once more.

“This was my fault, Polites…” he whispered

“My lord?”

“I was arrogant… What did I think? This is war…there is no side that wins or loses… I was foolish to believe I could get us out of here without any loss…”

“Odysseus…”

He was silenced by the hand of his king that raised itself.

“Can you take the first shift, Polites? I can’t stand anymore… I need to sleep…”

“Of course…” his best friend whispered in return, “You stayed up almost all night yesterday…”

“Thank you…”

Tiredly the king of Ithaca dragged his body to the end of the ship. His shoulders felt heavy…as if 72 more souls had hanged themselves from them; added to the already unbearable load of the lives of Troy….and Ismarus…

So here we have the first massive loss Odysseus suffered after Troy! 6 men from every ship perish from the attack of the Cicones.

In the Odyssey Odysseus mentioned how his men began a proper feast during their stay at the foot of Ismarus with slaughtering cattle and drinking wine, so that made me wonder how Odysseus would feel and what he would do. What would be his course of though and for one more time I thought the reoccuring memories of war will be swirling in him as well as the gloomy thoughts of his change. And of course some more violent reactions of his because of his state of mind and all.

The battle was once more inspired by Kapnisis music as I have said before to dear @dionysism this time the song "Μάχη στο Μανιάκι" ("Battle on Maniaki") because I love how the theme re-occures but with a sadder turn:

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which again gave me this feeling of helplessness as the Greeks are literally trying to push back the enemy that caught them literally in sleep.

The share of spoils and the stripping of one's enemy are both mentioned in the Iliad as tradition. I also make Odysseus send Polites to defend the ships instead. This is so that for startes Polites is a powerful general in his army but also kinda wanted to show some double-standards on Odysseus part that he wants to get his best friend to a safe distance from the slaughter instead of someone else.

And yup for those who didn't get there yet, the helmet scene was inspired from Lord of the Rings! Hehehehe!

The tradition of clling one's name three times was also mentioned in the Odyssey as a form of a funeral ritual.

Forthe funeral I imagined again the soundtrack to its finale part! ^_^

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As always my special thanks to:

@cjbolan @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @simugeuge @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog @loco-bird @greek-mythology-lover @leynaeithnea @freetyphoonglitter

Also a very special thanks and a hug to @ellilyre

(Afternote)

“No…ahh…no…gods…Troy…run…no…no!”

He was not fully asleep, he was not fully awake as he was mumbling incoherent things in his disturbed sleep. He was constantly moving about in his sleep, constantly fisting his fleece blanket; sweat plastering his curly hair to his forehead.

“Ahh! No…! Argh…..no! Ismarus….Troy…no… Ismarus…Ismarus…”

His back nearly arched under him.

“No! Argh…no…the fire…knife…the knife…no…! Argh! Troy…Ismarus…no!”

The hand on his shoulder was warm and welcoming.

“ARGH!” he half-threw himself in a sitting position

“Odysseus…what’s wrong…are you alright…?”

It was Polites’s voice. That much he could tell but the dizziness of sleep and dream were still in his brain. He was too foggy to think; swinging between sleep and awake to fully comprehend. Polites saw him struggle, as if, to breathe.

“No…no…” he was mumbling half asleep, “No more…the blood… Ismarus…Troy…”

“Odysseus please!”

There was the scent of metal to his lips; someone had brought a goblet to them. It smelt like wine.

“Please drink this…”

“I don’t want it…” Odysseus mumbled half-asleep still, shaking his head, “No…”

“Please! I beg of you…drink it…” Polites begged, “It will help!”

The ruby liquid touched his lips and he subconsciously swallowed. It felt bitter to his tongue; it almost tasted like blood. Apparently fatigue and the cloud of sleep had not left his brain yet for no sooner had he finished the goblet up and he leaned back, his head once again hanging to the side; surrendering himself to Hypnos’s spell once more, however this time there was no moaning or twitching in his sleep. Apart from a tensed expression between his brows he seemed calm.

“What did you give him?” Eurylochus asked concerned

Polites took out his pouch and showed some dust into it.

“I got this medicine from a Scythian merchant at Troy. He advised me to mix it to wine for better sleep.”

“Are you telling me you are using this?”

“How do you think we sleep after Troy?”

“Good point…” Eurylochus had to agree.

His gaze fell upon his sleeping king. The one that a few moments ago was flapping like a fish out of the water, as if struggling with unspeakable things in his sleep.

“What in all hells of Tartarus happened in Troy…?” he mumbled, “We all have regrets from time to time and dream badly but…not like this! What the hell happened to him to break like this…?”

“I believe he saw the Queen Hecuba lose her mind before him. He didn’t allow anyone else in his tent at that time…” Polites whispered, “It must have been hard…”

“Undoubtedly when Zeus or Dionysus sends upon the illness of the mind it is terrifying but still… Is it just that…? Sure the taking of Troy the way it happened could shake anybody… But this? What on earth happened behind closed doors and away from our understanding?”

“I heard…” Polites mumbled, “I heard that there was a sacrifice involved…”

He made a protective sign with his hand as if the words he was about to utter would be enough to curse them all.

“…A human sacrifice that is…”

The word hovered…longer than it should be; something terrible no one dared to ask.

“But…” Eurylochus managed to utter, mouth agape, “That was…before… I heard goddess Artemis demanded it…”

“No…not that… At Troy…and perhaps, they say, the reason he is like that is exactly because the gods were not involved…”

“Are you saying...?”

“No! Absolutely not! I am sure these are just terrible rumors to hurt our king! They always do come up with those!”

“Are you saying Odysseus is incapable of that…?” Eurylochus challenged

“I-…” Polites hesitated, “I don’t know…but there must be an explanation! There always is…”

They remained silent. They could hear Odysseus’s breathing. On occasion his tongue seemed to chant again and again: Troy…Ismarus…Ismarus…

“Odysseus…wake up…”

The warm shaking hand on his shoulder drew him out of the world of sleep. He was drowsy and confused but he could remember where he was. They were sailing home again…that should be the only one that mattered. He had given instructions to his men and they would sail away… And yet why could he smell the rain so intensely to his nose? The sky was gray, dangerously turning black. However he knew he had slept all night. He could hardly understand a thing. He blamed the wine Polites watered him the night before but it was not the time to discuss that.

“Did everyone get to have some hours of sleep…?” was the first thing he asked

“Yes” Polites confirmed, “We all had our shifts”

“And you didn’t wake me up?” the king of Ithaca asked as he was helped back to his feet by his friend.

“No” Polites admitted, “We thought you needed sleep. You had stayed awake all night before”

His king chose not to comment on that for now. Instead he leaned on the parapet of the ship. What he saw alarmed him. The sky was dark and the winds were already howling and there was a drizzle rain. There was the sound of distant thunder from afar and the strong, northern wind was already rising more and more, making his eyes tearful with the bitter cold and the drizzle slowly becoming needles that almost felt like piercing the skin. Polites didn’t need to ask when he saw the horror in his eyes. Neither did Eurylochus.

“Captain…” his brother-in-law started

“Men…” Odysseus whispered, “We must prepare ourselves! A storm might be coming!”

“Oh shit…” Eurylochus mumbled

The sails were already snapping at the wind. Odysseus suddenly saw…the winds were pushing them back…away from the sores they wanted to reach… He knew then they were up for another detour.

“Gods…gods have mercy on me! I want to go home! I just want to go home! I shall repent for my sins! Just let me embrace my wife first!”

He looked up and then he drew a breath. He had to collect himself. Perhaps that would be a minor detour. He would have to endure it. He had to; he couldn’t break now that they were so close. He couldn’t let his 72 men die in vain like that!

“MEN!” He yelled the order, “Secure the sails! Prepare for a storm!”

“And gods help us…let us survive this ordeal and escape this thrall of storm to get back home! Athena…Athena I beg of you…”

He took the ring and chain off his pouch, the ones he removed from the queen and threw them into the sea; a silent prayer and a petty offering so that he could at least hope their ships would survive. He was up for another detour… Ithaca had to wait…somehow he knew… He joined the men and kept barking orders as the sailors; expert now in sea and storms, were already gathering the sails and rowing for dear life. Odysseus grabbed the steer himself, making yet another protective sign with his hand, one last prayer to the gods. And yet he could swear that the winds that howled in his ears, making the raindrops whip his face like tiny needles were chanting again and again.

Troy…Troy…Ismarus… Ismarus!

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titlemewickedwonderland · 2 years ago

Text

Possess Me (Swiss x Reader)

Summary: Ghouls are misunderstood creatures, they let you see what they want you to see and sometimes that's just their stage personas but behind the masks, they are something else entirely. Y/n got that reality check when one particular ghoul showed his true nature.

Pairings: Swiss x Reader

Triggers: Slight obsessive, possessive, and tsundere Swiss

Support My Work!

He knew she was perfect from the moment she first stepped foot into the Abbey all those months ago. Amid all the new recruits' other bright-eyed and fresh faces, hers stuck out the most. Not because she was dressed differently (all of them wore the same standard Sibling uniform), or because she had distinguishing features that made her stand out from the crowd like piercings, tattoos, or bright-colored hair. But because of the look on her face as she took everything in. It wasn't any less than shining fascination and excitement but it was just the way she looked at everything around her - like she was indeed taking in the splendor of the Abbey and imagining the skill it took to create such details; she looked at everything as if it was a true work of art to be appreciated and most importantly...respected.

Not a lot of people looked at this place as such. A place that held decades of history, secrets, and lore crafted and chiseled over all those many years. She looked at it as the most important place in the world to be cherished and respected. But her look when her gaze landed on the Ghouls of the Abbey was far more gut-wrenching. Not because there was fear or disgust in them, not even confusion. She looked at them - dressed in their usual black attire and silver masks with postures straight and intimidating. She looked at them as if they were something far more precious to reside in this establishment. As if he mattered far more than anything else.

The smile she had given them while everybody else looked on with a sense of apprehension and wariness made something inside him clench; something forming inside of him when her beautiful eyes traveled from one ghoul to the next until they landed on his; even from behind the silver metal of his mask, he could see her eyes land on him - no, not on him but more looking through him. Even from a distance, he knew she was staring straight into his eyes. Without fear, without trepidation, and without a shred of shyness as the corners of her perfect mouth tilted upward into a smile so dazzling it damn near broke his heart. And then she'd waved; the motion catching the attention of the other ghouls as much as him and he swore Rain even gave her a little wave back.

He had sworn that she would not last long. That her sweetness would soon be tainted the longer she stayed within the Abbey as part of its clergy. But months passed and while he watched other siblings of sin fall to carnal pleasures she never did. Somewhere...somehow she found the strength to stay pure. That fact made Swiss crave her all the more.

Even now, a good year of her being within the Abbey; while others of her group had already left unable to deal with the lifestyle. She never left and each day he found new ways to try and get close to her. Her name was Y/n. It wasn't anything fancy; common by most standards but it fit her so well. And Swiss had no problem with getting close to her - daily reminding her in his own flirtatious ways how pretty she was...how well she fit into the Clergy. He had all her attention. Until that...boy, came along and well. Swiss don't share what's his.

Y/n was walking down the hallway, arms fully loaded with stacks of books that were just one short of covering her vision completely as she strolled down the pathway - the soft tapping of her flats drowned out by the voices and hubbub of the Abbey as others siblings were doing their own things. When a figure came out of nowhere; jogging up to her. She turned her head to look over and gave a friendly smile when she noticed Steven, a new recruit who'd only been there a month or so. He was cute with short cropped dirty blond hair slightly longer on top and pretty ocean eyes that watched Y/n with admiration as he lifted a hand to wave at her.

She didn't know him long but she had been one of the siblings that helped him get accustomed to the Abbey; they had chores together a few times and he was always so helpful and friendly with her.

"Hey, Y/n! Those look heavy, would you like some help with those?" he asked as he motioned at the stack of heavy books in her arms.

"Oh! Sure, that'd be appreciated. But aren't you busy with your own chores?" she raised a brow as she glanced back the way he had come to the small group of other siblings who were busy doing their part.

"Ah, yeah I mean I do have them to do but I didn't want you to trip and fall with those books." he replied rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/n's smile tipped up a bit more. "Well, I won't say no to extra help. These books are pretty heavy. Thank you." she finally agreed as Steven grabbed half of the books off of her stack and eased some of her burden, in the process.

"Where are these heading?" Steven was standing too close not that Y/n seemed to realize as they began walking again.

She didn't notice the extra pairs of eyes that followed her from across the court they were walking through as she looked up at Steven while replying. Steven noticed though as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and caused him to glance behind him as if he was being tailed but saw no one.

"Oh, these are going back to Papa's office," she explained "He had me help with some transcriptions from the Latin books for the next sermon. I was just going to return them to his person shelves." she responded as they walked.

"Ah, I see." the boy licked his lips nervously. "Hey, Y/n...are you close with Papa? I couldn't help but notice how often you interact with him. N-not that I was like...watching you or anything it's just...Papa's a big figure around here and I don't notice him giving any special attention to any of the other siblings besides a few passing words, y'know?" Steven mentioned nervously.

Y/n's brows furrowed thoughtfully, her mouth twisted sideways in a cute little expression. "Oh, I don't know. I'd say so. He often asks for my help because my major in college had been history and language so I've very good with Latin. I just think he doesn't like to do the paperwork himself." her laugh was sweet.

"Why do you ask?"

Steven shrugged. "Nothing...just like I said, he seems to favor you a lot and you're always seen with his ghouls too so...just wondering." he shrugged a shoulder.

The girl smiled fondly at the mention of the ghouls as she looked down as she walked. "Yeah, I suppose that's accurate. They like to make themselves useless when not practicing or being on tour and since I'm, as you mentioned, I am always being sought out by Papa I suppose they see me as a close confidante." she mused before laughing again

"They are amazing creatures aren't they?"

But Steven wasn't laughing. In fact, his face had fallen a bit and twisted into an expression that made Y/n feel uncomfortable when she finally looked up at him.

"I don't think so, no." he replied finally "They give me the ick. They're always so intimidating and just...stand there staring at you like some bad omen. When they aren't causing havoc at least. I don't know how many vases I had to clean up or replace charred marks and broken walls because of them. They're like children...very very disrespectful children." he grumbled.

Y/n stopped in her tracks as she listened to his words; a frown pulling at her mouth as she stared at him. "They aren't bad creatures, Steven. Sure they like to have some fun but I mean...if you threw a big party something would be bound to happen like broken things and a hole in the wall or two. It's no different." she said quietly as she defended the ghouls.

"Seriously? They're literal demons, Y/n!" Steven turned towards her seeing the expression of disapproval on her face.

Y/n took a breath to collect herself before saying anything that would accelerate the issue. "Steven," she said trying to keep her voice calm and even.

"I don't like the way you are speaking about them. The ghouls are incredible creatures; yes, literal demons. They don't harm the siblings and are a great help around the Abbey. Please don't disrespect them like that. Disrespecting them is like insulting and disrespecting Papa and his judgment." she shook her head. "I won't allow it."

Steven just stared at her as if he was rethinking something and didn't notice the figures walking towards them from up the hall. The pair just stared at each other before a smooth voice tinged with dark intent spoke up from behind Steven causing both siblings to turn their attention to the dark-clad figures standing there.

"Is there a problem here?"

Y/n's expression softened slightly upon seeing the familiar silver masks. "Swiss and Aether! What a surprise." her smile widened.

"What are you two doing? Don't you have practice?" she asked tilting her head and watching them with those big innocent eyes she always gave them.

Aether tipped his head and raised a hand to give her a little wave. "Hey there sweetpea," he ignore the not-so-subtle scoff Steven gave before continuing. "Practice just got out! Where are you heading?"

"Oh, just to Papa's office, I finished up those translations he needed help on the other day; just returning his books to him! How'd practice go?" she asked in return and Steven sighed obviously not pleased at this turn of events.

This made Swiss, who had yet to say a word besides his initial approach, to snap his head towards him in such a way one could have mistaken him for Dewdrop if it wasn't for their stature differences.

"Something the matter, Steven?" he asked far too calmly for his usual personality - the tone he used just for his name alone was so condescending that Y/n and Aether both turned to look toward the pair.

"Yeah, actually." Steven straightened up and glared at Swiss. "You're interrupting us." he stated in bravado.

Y/n's mouth opened to scold the boy but Swiss took one large step towards the Brother in a way that was menacing even to Y/n's eyes.

"Is that right?"

Aether absently reached out to grab a hold of Y/n's shoulders and gently pull her away from the pair and wrap an arm around her shoulders to keep her from pushing her way between the agitated males.

"Yeah, that's right. Me and Y/n were busy." Steven had to look up towards Swiss since he was a few inches shorter. "You can say your pleasantries and then go back to whatever you Ghouls do. Like, cause trouble."

Swiss' teeth flashed in his signature swiss smile that was all white straight teeth but the smile was anything but friendly as he bore down on the other; inching downwards until Steven had to take a half step back to gain space.

"Listen to me, you worthless excuse for a mortal boy," Swiss' voice was rough with a demonic edge that caused Steven's eyes to widen a bit in fear. "You don't disrespect Y/n, ever."

"You don't belittle her for her interests, you don't disrespect her preferences, and you sure as hell won't stand here acting all high and mighty as if you have a claim to her."

"Swiss-" Y/n started taking a step forward but Aether's grip tightened and he pulled her back against his side.

"Not the right time, lovie. Let him say his peace...it's better than cleaning up a body." the Quintessence ghoul murmured to her but even he too was watching his packmate like a hawk to make sure he doesn't have to jump in to stop him from tearing the sibling's throat out.

"She isn't yours-" Steven began but Swiss cut him off; literally, with a clawed hand gripping the boy's throat and pulling him closer - the glow of his demonic eyes behind the mask eerie and causing the boy to tremble.

"That's where you are mistaken...Y/n's mine. She's ours. So the next time I see you anywhere near her or talking to her with anything other than respect..." Swiss' head tilted to the side

"I will give you a reason to call us demons of hell."

With that, the Multi-ghoul let go of the other and snatched the stack of books from his grasp before jerking his chin. "Now scram, you haven't finished your assigned chores yet." back was that playful ghoul Y/n was used to as his smile grew from threatening to even worse because he was now smiling like he usually did - all friendly and jokes. All of them knew that was far scarier than the earlier smile he had on because he was playing it off as if nothing happened even while the threat hung heavy in the air.

Nobody would find the body, Y/n was sure of it. She didn't say anything though and just clutched the books tighter to herself but she was not afraid. Steven sort of did ask for it with the way he was speaking about the ghouls; she couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for him for pissing off Swiss.

But as the sibling scrambled down the hall, tripping over his own two feet, Swiss turned around as if nothing happened before joining his packmate and Sister.

"Papa's office you said?" he asked as he sidled up to them.

"Mhm." Y/n nodded slowly. Aether let go of the girl and instead grabbed the stack of books she was holding before the pair began escorting her down the hall toward Papa's office.

They did not say anything as they walked and said nothing still while they put away the books but as Aether left the room to wait in the hall it was only Swiss and Y/n left in the office. The Sister was busy writing down a note for Papa on a sticky note on the desk when she felt a presence behind her. She straightened up but didn't look back at Swiss.

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know." her voice was soft in the quietness of the office.

Swiss tilted his head to watch the side of her face as he idly picked up a strand of her hair. "Oh, but I did, sweetheart. He disrespected you. No one does that." he replied casually but there was a lilt in his voice that made Y/n turn her head to look at him; not that she would see much with the mask on but her eyes met him through the mask and she found herself entangled in their colors.

"It's not about the disrespect Swiss. I could have handled it, I was handling it." she protested quietly with a pointed look. "Tell me the truth, because I know that display out there wasn't because someone disrespected me. You would have just given him a slap on the wrist with a well-placed Swiss-style insult."

She turned around to find his body caging her against the edge of the desk. "That display out there, that was something different entirely." she scanned the mask as if she was trying to see his expression through the metal.

"Do you really want me to say it?" the ghoul gripped the edge of the desk on either side of her as he bent his frame over hers.

"I'm not stupid Swiss but I think it's warranted to say out loud so that it's in the air." she raised her chin stubbornly; casting her face closer to his by default as her bright eyes stared up daringly into his.

A rumble vibrated in his chest and but she didn't feel intimidated or scared even when she felt the leathery tip of his tail snaking up her leg and tightening like a boa around her thigh while his large hands gripped her waist; the sharp tips of his claws digging into the soft flesh beneath her habit to pull her closer until they were chest to chest.

"You are mine, Y/n." his voice was deep as he stared down into her wide eyes. "You've been mine since the first damned time you laid your eyes on me. No one. no one threatens to take you away from me."

Y/n breath lodged in her throat as she reached up to cup his jaw; feeling the stubble growing there - rough and prickly against her fingertips. "You're an idiot." her words made him pause as she let it out in a controlled breath.

"One big idiot. To ever think anybody could compare to you." her hands gripped his collar and yanked him down to crash her lips against his, that was anything but sweet.

Teeth clanked and nipped, hands gripped tight and yanked until there were bruises surely to be left until oxygen burned out and she pulled back; crashing against the desk to steady herself as she bit her bottom lip swollen from his bites and kisses.

"And," she finally breathed out. "You're a bigger idiot for thinking that you were the only one with an obsession, Swiss." his name left her lips like a taunt as she gave him a slow curling smile that had his blood boiling.

That look alone made the Multi-ghoul surge forward only to be stopped by her hand gripping his collar just centimeters before he could latch his mouth over hers again.

"But I'm not easy." she used her grip on his collar to push him back a few steps before straightening herself up. "And I won't be easy to catch." she brushed past him to leave the room.

Swiss chuckled low; echoing in the empty room with a darkness only those of hell could achieve. As Y/n began leaving the room she heard his parting words and they caused a thrill to race through her blood.

"Run... run... run, little rabbit. The hunt is on."

Taglist: @darklylucid @strawberry-moonpies

#Ghost #Ghost Band #ghost swedish band #swiss #swiss multi ghoul #swiss ghoul x reader #swiss x reader #swiss ghoul #multi ghoul

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nkn0va · 8 months ago

Note

Request for Chie, Yukiko, Rise, and Naoto where they have a best friends to lovers relationship with their S/O. I'm talking about Yu and Yosuke levels of friendship. Please and thank you.

Ouch...almost two months...murdered motivation sucks...

-Chie first met you back in middle school. Your mutual love of martial arts movies led you to becoming fast friends, even though she was much more... enthusiastic than you were. You really just liked watch people fighting but Chie took it to the extreme.

-Not that you minded by any means of course, you looked up and admired her passion and drive. When you two met Yukiko as you entered high school you quickly became the glue holding the three of you together.

-It wasn't long before Yukiko started shipping the two of you together. Your dynamic just really struck a chord with her, she couldn't really describe it. As the Investigation team is formed and more people join, they start sharing the same sentiment.

-It never really occurred to Chie, mostly because she's not exactly a wise sage, but it certainly at least crossed your mind once or twice. Being around her just felt so...natural. It sort of felt like you were already romantically involved.

-It's after your close encounter with death when you caught the true culprit of the murders that you realized you had to do something or nothing would happen. It got you thinking on your own mortality and the realization that if you wanted to see change in your short life, you needed to make it happen yourself.

-As soon as you did work up the courage to confess your real feelings, Chie immediately breathes a sigh of relief, both at the fact that you felt the same she did and that she didn't need to take initiative herself anymore.

-Truthfully, not much changes People were teasing you about being in a relationship already for a reason. But there is that extra bit of tension when you're together. But it's the good kind.

-Your parents moved to Inaba when you were a child, and naturally you had to go along with them. While you were waiting for furniture to be moved into the new place you all went exploring and ended up at the Amagi Inn everyone was seemingly talking about.

-While you're looking around for things to do, you meet a girl your age who you learn is the daughter of the owners and you become friends pretty quickly.

-You're the first to find out and worry when Yukiko goes missing during your second year of high school. Once you figure out that Chie, Yosuke, and the new transfer student have found out where she is and they're planning to save her, you quickly assert yourself into the group, no room for negotiation.

-You lowkey lead the charge, leadership from Yu be damned. You're not letting anything happen to Yukiko as long as you still draw breath.

-Once you confront Yukiko's Shadow you go pretty much into overdrive. If her Shadow wasn't as strong as it was you would've thrown hands with it personally, even if you were weak to Fire skills after awakening your Persona.

-You barely manage to slip by and get Yukiko out safely after she's able to accept her Shadow. Something's still bothering you, though. The way her Shadow called you her prince, coming to save her.

-Upon questioning her, she suddenly gets rather nervous, but eventually confesses that she'd had feeling for you for some time now. You were able to act normal around her, supporting her no matter what.

-And you'd still stick by her no matter what. But this time, as her S/O.

-You were shopping one day in Junes when a girl your age quickly approached you, asking you to help her hide. Not really knowing what else to do when put in such a situation out of nowhere, you complied.

-After the surprisingly large crowd that came out of nowhere left, she breathed a sigh of relief and introduced herself as THE Risette, having no choice now. To her surprise though, you weren't a rabid fan. Yeah you'd heard of her, but had no interest in her status.

-Needless to say this came as quite a shock to her, but it also came with a huge opportunity. the opportunity to make a real, genuine friend without needing to worry about it going south because of her fame.

-So that's exactly what she did. You were keeping out of public eye as much as possible so people didn't catch on to your repeated plots in hiding her whenever the two of you went out, doing normal teenager things and growing closer.

-The feeling of security, of being able to be a normal person around you was something Rise didn't want to lose. Someone she could actually be Rise with, not Risette.

-The moment she knew she wanted you as an S/O, she made that clear immediately. And of course you couldn't say no to such an infectiously energetic, upbeat lady.

-Your dad was in the Inaba police force, he had been for quite a while. You accompanied him to the station one day, and for a change, actually found someone your age.

-An androgynous young man, claiming to be a student detective brought on to help solve the recent murder cases. You ask if you can help any, you did at least pick up a couple things from your old man. He said he'd get back to you if he ever needed anything and thanked you for the offer.

-It's not long before this new acquaintance, Naoto, does in fact get back to you. You two go out somewhere to eat and discuss/speculate about the case. Naoto however quickly became drawn to you, somehow, and the you ended up hanging out more casually, slowly but surely.

-Naoto in a twist of fate, however, ended up going missing as well like a few other people have. You were worrying for days about whether or not everything was alright, worried another body would be added to the count.

-Miraculously, and much to your relief, he ends up safe and sound, though saying there was a big secret to reveal. Naoto was actually...a woman.

-After listening to his- er... her reasoning for the disguise, you completely understand why it was done, much to her relief. You don't judge her for it.

-Once the secret's out, she opens up much more than before, and soon it's not long before a different kind of feeling between you two starts to develop. Surprisingly, she's the one to confess first. After confronting her Shadow, she realized she needed to be true to herself more, thought you don't need to know about the whole world inside the TV deal.

-She's inexperienced, but she's trying. It takes her a while to accept the fact you appreciated her for her, but the idea of calling you her S/O definitely wasn't one she was against.

#x reader #persona 4 x reader #persona headcanons #persona #chie satonaka #chie satonaka x reader #yukiko amagi #yukiko amagi x reader #rise kujikawa #rise kujikawa x reader #naoto shirogane #naoto shirogane x reader #headcanon

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smurfs-insideout-au · 8 days ago

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Emotion Smurf Bio/Refs

Here is the list of all of the emotion smurfs,along with links to their original posts,designs and informations (be warned: it's long af). For the boy smurfs,there will be two versions: one with hair and one without hair. You can draw them as either of those.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Smurfsunflower (emotion Joy volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Link to her original post: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/770302465572732928/next-is-introducing-azaleas-best-friendwho-is

Smurfsunflower (she/her) is a loveable sunshine who is in charge of the Smurf grove's cleaning team and best friend of Smurfazalea!!

A very optimistic and happy Smurf who sees light in everyone,taking any chance she gets to spread the joy and positivity to everyone. A kind and helpful one,who is indeed very happy to help. She is also packed with good leadership skills,knowing how to keep everyone in place and can be the voice of reason whenever tension strikes

However,under that positive smile is the disturbance that she hides to herself,as she can be rather passive-aggressive at times and is pushy about her way of positivity. This leads to her having a rather negative side to her optimism,pushing her ways a bit too far and even tries to change those she views as "not positive enough".

The reason for this is because of the destruction of the original Grove location that changed her life forever,with her having a very hard time adjusting to the sudden changes. She uses her happiness as a protective shield,but doesn't realize it's cracking.

Now this cute and peppy Smurf early volunteers in the project as the role of "Joy". She's very excited to meet you all!!!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Smurfpigment (emotion Joy volunteer)

Oc by @funnibluecreturs

Link to her original post: https://www.tumblr.com/funnibluecreturs/747935198720720896/just-going-to-finally-post-smurfpigmentss-design?source=share

Smurfpigment (she/her) is the Color Expert of the Smurf Grove Village and the older sister of Smurfgraphite.

Pigment is the go-to Smurf if a Smurf could use some color to their day! Literally and figuratively! She is known for her cheerful and supportive nature, giving positive affirmations and encouragement. She also acts as an older sister figure to not just Graphite, but to any Smurf she comes across with.

The destruction of the previous Smurf Grove Village motivated Pigment to work on her self-defense skills. After the devastating event, Pigment was inspired to create her infamous color bombs after a potion mishap (the first color bombs she made were so strong it made her previous house explode to pieces.) Pigment can also be a little reckless at times, which is why there are moments her color bombs can get set off at unpredictable times. She can also slip up and can let her emotions get the best of her, especially if she feels Graphite is being treated unfairly.

Despite that, as a Smurf who wants to serve as a role model, she tries to put her impulsiveness aside. She's very compassionate and understanding of other Smurfs, even those who are misunderstood, like Grouchy for example since she doesn't really judge him for his attitude.

Pigment becomes one of the volunteers of the Emotion Project, volunteering as the role of "Joy" after Sunflower. She wants to understand what it's like to be an emotion in the brain!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Writer Smurf (emotion Sadness volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Links to his original posts: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/764417871570993152/updated-reference-sheets-for-writer-and

Writer Smurf (he/him),the author with a sorrow attitude and Brainy's older twin brother. Both glasses smurfs hail from the same stork delivery,at the same time. Writer is considered the older one due to his more mature personality.

Writer was once an energetic,reckless and adventurous fellow,with a passion of traveling here and there to find inspiration for his books. The reason why they're well received is because of his input of reality plus fiction. However,a careless move of opening the forbidden "Pandora's box" has changed his life forever. Cursed to become permanently sad and drown in tears. Yet,he overcomes this and is trying to become better

Currently,Writer has become a reserved and shy Smurf who can cry at the drop of a hat. That's not to say he's basically Weepy,but he's not. He's more of the type to constantly looking melancholic. He has also grown a huge guilt complex ever since the curse,leading his confidence to shatter and drowning in constant self doubt and highly criticizes himself. Yet,he harbors great empathy,along with kindness and maturity of an older brother.

Writer has a pessimistic view of life. To him,there's no such thing as true happiness,but only those that can be enjoyed throughout their lives,even if it's small and insignificant. He explores a lot about the Smurf mind and loves learning about it,using his writing medium to convey his knowledge and his experiences.

Despite the sadness,he's doing much better now,thanks to the help of his younger brother;his beloved boyfriend,Painter;and his friends,old and new.

Now,Writer is one of the first volunteers for the project,taking the role of "Sadness". He helped Brainy out a lot during the process,too.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Scaredy Smurf (emotion Fear volunteer)

Canon character (Art/design by @thedarkqueen14 )

Scaredy Smurf (he/him),the Smurf who gets scared of everything and anything,whether it's a small insect or a large storm.

Scaredy bears a fearful and anxious nature,making it hard for him to do anything without thinking the worst of it or finding worry about anything. Tho,because of his jittery nature,he's great at keeping others safe,as his insight has proven to be very useful. Scaredy is quite shy and isn't much of a talker,mostly due to the fear of being shut down

The scaredy cat does possess great strength,speed and agility at times,mostly when he's provoked. Despite his cowardly nature,he is willing to build up courage to do the things he's normally afraid to do,for the sake of saving his friends or needing to face responsibility. Scaredy is also very honest and has a hard time lying,due to his guilt complex

Now this loveable coward of a Smurf has gathered his courage to join this possibly dangerous project,as the role of "Fear". He may or may not be regretting this later,but at least he's trying.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Dragonfruit Smurfling/Pitaya Smurfling (emotion Anger volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/764866902969499648/dragonfruit-smurfling-or-pitaya-is-a-manmade

Dragonfruit Smurfling (he/him),or known as Pitaya,is a manmade Smurf,created by a kind witch,being raised under her care. However,when she passed away,she gave him to her son to take care. The son,drenching in alcohol from the stressful and unfair life;started to neglect and abuse the poor smurf. The young one eventually survived when the man tried to sell him for some gold. He was lucky to be found and adopted by a Smurf Grove called "SmurfSnapdragon".

Pitaya is an aggressive and violent child,using destruction as a defensive mechanism. The young Smurf is also quite the hothead and rude to others,having trust issues and anger issues. He doesn't mean bad,he's like a spicy kitten,hard to open up.

But under that hard shell is a bumbling and chaotic lil child,full of fun and mischief >:33 Pitaya is also a smart one and can be quite mature,with great observing skills. And if he likes you,he can get clingy as well. This is due to his separation anxiety and claustrophobia.

Now,Pitaya has volunteered to become one of the emotions in the project,as "Anger". He's convinced by his older sister to join and learn more about emotions.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Snob Smurf (emotion Disgust volunteer)

oc by @theskybug

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/theskybug/764722753800716288

Snob Smurf (he/him) has a nasty attitude, high nose and is obsessive with cleaning and keeping his looks tidy. He is a waiter for Chef Smurf’s kitchen. Helping around the kitchen with serving food, preparing meals. But mostly the cleaning. Despite that cold heart, he really does care for the village and secretly has a crush on Chef. Even through everyone knows it, but hates admitting it. (He's in the Tundere category because Azazel and Sky said so)

Once you get to know him. He’s not so bad lf you manage to stick around long enough that is. snob actually used to be a kind and helpful Smurf, until Gargamel captured him and used a powerful personality changing spell, leaving behind some features. With sharp teeth and attitude, as well a burn like scar of his chest. (A Spell burn) he was saved just in time before gargamel could fully turn him into a monster.

Now. Snob signed himself as one of the emotion volunteers. Known as ‘disgust’ (he is silently regretting it)

—-—-—-—-—-—

Draftsman Smurf/Drafty (emotion Anxiety volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/770303376904847360/and-finallymy-last-bean-for-tonight-is-draftsman

Draftsman Smurf (he/they),or Drafty for short,is an aspiring new artist in the creative crew,experimenting with new art styles and mediums to draw

Drafty wishes to be the best at it,he has always been! Packed with enthusiasm,a touch of zest and lively energy,they are known to learn things quickly and is able to practice nonstop until they master it. This has garnish them a good chunk popularity within the Smurf community. This popularity can have them to grow a tad arrogant,rubbing off his talent in front of others just because he can,and will get aggressive if anyone tries to defy his hard work

Behind the arrogance is a fumbling,incredibly anxious Smurf who is constantly looked at by smurfs. Putting on a high pedestal ever since they were known as "Perfectionist Smurf",this Smurf is always afraid of losing or falling behind. Their mind is a hive of endless negativity and self criticisms,always thinking about the worst that could happen. That's why he's always prepared! Tho being prepared so much leads them to be neglectful of their own mental health.

Their anxiety has lead him to have stomach issues,easily getting nauseous and sick.

Now,Drafty joins in the project as the infamous "anxiety". He wonders if he could learn a thing or two about his conditions. Nah,he's fine!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Enamoured Smurf (emotion Envy volunteer)

Canon character (art/design by @theskybug )

Enamoured Smurf (he/him)is the village’s romance and love master, Known as the Cupid of the Smurfs.

He is polite and can be the sweetest around, Enamoured is also a huge sucker for romance, yet he's a hopeless romance who has trouble finding a partner. Talking about it to reading about it, gushing over love stories and even spying on couples. He has this thing called ‘the love vision’ where he can see a certain Smurf ‘duo’ would develop into a couple or not. (He’s mostly not wrong)

Despite loving Valentine so much, he also hates at the same time,because he’s single,as he takes the holiday very seriously. He likes to invite others to the ‘single mingle’ club and have tea, show off his baking skills as well.

Unlike canon Enamoured,this Enamoured has evolved from just falling in love with Smurfette,now to become the best romance expert,dating counselor and true love connoisseur

Now adorable Enamoured wants to set foot or rather his mind into the emotion volunteering as ‘envy’

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Butterfly Smurf (emotion Embarrassment volunteer)

Oc by @theskybug

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/theskybug/770728626182373376/butterfly-one-of-the-sweetest-innocent-like-of

Butterfly Smurf (he/him) is one of the sweetest, cutest Smurfs of the crew (or village) with a shy, curious personality. Loves a little adventure who tends to wonder about and others had to find him.

Butterfly has a huge fear on any kind of bird, including storks. Although he’s somewhat more comfortable with storks than the rest of the birds. Which Smurfs used storks as their transportation for long distances. The reason for this fear, when he was a smurfling during a little camp trip that papa promised some little ones. Butterfly wondered off again not expecting to face to face with a rare magical bird,whose ability is to make a horrid screech,loud enough to make you become deaf. Which is how butterfly became profoundly deaf in the first place, using sign language as his main communication all his life (includes a little note book in his hat) It annoys him through, since not many knew sign language and missed out alot.

That’s until later, his life completely changed when he fell in love with partly blind Smurf named Archer Smurf ( @thedarkqueen14 ‘s oc) who later gifted butterfly magical earrings,which was helped by Papa Smurf and Handy Smurf. The earrings allowed butterfly to ‘hear’ as long as he wear it. The gift was given during a date,where Archer asked Butterfly to be his boyfriend,who in turn said "yes"

Now butterfly happily and bravely volunteers the emotion known as ‘embarrassment’ he’s excited to meet you all!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Smurfgraphite (emotion Ennui volunteer)

Oc by @funnibluecreturs

Link to her original post:

Smurfgraphite (she/her) is the Sketch Artist of the Smurf Grove Village and younger sister of Smurfpigment.

Graphite is an introspective and reserved Smurf, known for her usually stoic nature. Back then, she isn't really talkative nor does she interact with the other Smurfs very much unless it's Pigment. That is until the disastrous event involving the previous Smurf Grove Village. This pushed her to get out of her comfort zone and start talking to Smurfs more.

Graphite isn't as emotionally expressive as others and she tends to think deeply about dark topics. She also can doubt or underestimate her own self-worth. But she also has a dry sense of humor, making jokes while keeping a straight face. Despite not being as emotionally expressive, she does feel very deeply and expresses her feelings through her artworks, a lot of her drawings have hints of melancholic tones to it, that is... If she's not making absurd drawings. And despite her gloomy nature, she's not really a pessimist.

Graphite volunteers for the emotion "Ennui." She's not satisfied until she gets a deeper understanding about emotions.

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zhuoyichenpretty · 1 month ago

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Eps 34-35

Not many photos here because anything I screenshot in these eps would literally just give me psychic damage at this point (-:

Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 34:

I'm being so brave watching this fucking opening scene again.

No actually though I've watched it several times by now and it just keeps getting worse. What can one even say about all this? Ow??? Fuck???

Probably the most gruesome onscreen death of a child character in cdrama that I've seen like I didn't know they could even go there like that. I guess maybe because it's not gory or specifically violent? Idk the rules but man. His expression.

The way they play TJR singing their song and then switch to LZY's version. Maximum pain thank you guys.

ZYC's "I'm sorry" is so damn loaded. For not being there, for failing to protect him, but also for being the reason Bai Jiu made this decision. For giving Bai Jiu someone to love and protect and die for. For unknowingly and inadvertently causing this just by loving him and being loved by him. ZYC's remorse and regret as he makes the connections and pieces together Bai Jiu's thought process is so fucking haunting. Just the most awful way for his own words of comfort to come back. And like I'd commented previously—the way love begets grief.

I'm going to kms I knew when they put yet another cloak on ZYC that he'd be giving it to someone else but NO!!! Not like this oh my god

"哥帶你回家" (Ge will take you home) I don't even have the words for how painful this is. Is this the first time ZYC refers to himself as ge? Not just acknowledging that Bai Jiu's made an older brother of him? If not, it's certainly the most salient.

Both actors' skills can hardly be questioned atp (like, that's a damn difficult expression to die with), but I just have to marvel at the way TJR's acting (his micro-expressions!!!) is at once subtle and incredibly clear. That ZYC's every emotion is clearly telegraphed—his shock, his horror, his anguish, his regret, his desperation, his exhaustion—but so naturally done.

ZYC struggling with the weight of Bai Jiu's body and dropping it, on top of paralleling the flashback, is just so terrible in its reality. ZYC must already be so incredibly drained after that final battle. To have gone through such an unspeakable loss, to carry it on his back and find himself unable to even properly do that, to protect what's left of Bai Jiu from the mundanity of physical damage.

WX's dad nooooo you're leaving her to ZYZ but ZYZ's not planning on staying either nooooo

Are we sure the magic rain couldn't have saved WX's dad tho ):

WX don't tell ZYZ your self-sacrificial plan there's no way he'd let you go through with it girl!!! You gotta pull a ZYC and be vague as fuck and make sure everyone's feet are frozen to the ground so they can't stop you

ZYZ backing away after using the spell on WX, slapping himself when he nearly can't get himself to go through with dying. Good shit. But also my god I'm so sorry WX what a fucking traumatic ten minutes will anyone give her a fucking break? Living at any cost, at the cost of her beloved dying several feet away from her, yet another manifestation of her trauma with Zhao Wan'er, and knowing it's about to happen, begging to be given a say—cruel. PSJ has been offscreen for forever just because plot convenience (which, in itself, already sucks) but if she were here she would kill ZYZ herself for putting WX through this and the rain would just be a bonus.

The Cloud Light Sword stained with blood to the point it looks unfamiliar—good shit.

ZYC's fucking voice when he asks if there's any other choice. Art, I tell you.

Fucking hell. The twist on their fate being ZYC choosing it rather than being forced into it, to absolve ZYZ of the cruelty he's had to bear responsibility for in doing this to his loved ones. Zhiji was not misapplied in this damn story—ZYC understands and he understands over and over because who else could do this for ZYZ? To find one last way to lighten his burden in such a conflicting and complicated and impossible situation. To know exactly what must be hurting ZYZ and to bear the weight instead and to make sure he knows full well that's what's happening. For ZYC to take that hurt upon himself, entirely upon himself. The way that ZYC dealing the killing blow is actually the furthest thing from a moment of hardening his own heart, that it's in fact the height of his soft-heartedness. And how much that must hurt. Pain.

Also, imo ZYC making it purely his choice at the last moment is so clearly and specifically for ZYZ. Not for anyone else's sake, and precisely against his own and WX's wishes. Upon knowing ZYZ's commitment to death in this moment, whatever else happening has been made secondary. He is giving ZYZ all that he has left to give—fulfilling ZYZ's sacrificial determination, carrying out ZYZ's will to save the people, absolving ZYZ's guilt at what it's taken to get here.

(Totally tangential but I referenced AOT in my last post so I figured I'd make further reference: if anyone's familiar with Eruri—I'm somewhat reminded of Levi's choice. Being the only one with the power to save or let their loved one die. Choosing death for them, on their behalf, perhaps a decision opaque and counterintuitive to the rest of the world but completely and utterly made out of love and an inimitable understanding of the man they love. The most painfully and unimaginably selfless act, to give them peace at the cost of their own suffering.)

"小卓，你還是這麼..." (Xiao Zhuo, you're still so...) Oh this line kills me (ha). I love that it's unfinished. That it encapsulates ZYZ's surprise, his understanding and gratitude, and ultimately this sense of marveling at the man in front of him and what he's given ZYZ even now, at the very end. It tells me ZYZ recognizes ZYC's choice for what it is: the utmost act of a soft-hearted and boundless love that sees through him completely. Zhiji indeed.

The way ZYZ has unfulfilled promises with both WX and ZYC, the way they both call him a liar—good shit.

When I didn't know there was an episode 35 (or special episode I guess) I was boutta throw hands like what do you MEAN that's it??

Ep 35:

I do love a good hair-turning-white-from-grief trope (': But man, white hair like that at 24/25........Also though PSJ and WX finally have more noticeably different styling/silhouettes yayy they look gorgeous

God, but I can't bear looking at how small their group is now.

Searching all the mountains and seas, all 28 mountains in the Wilderness. ZYC, that kind of devotion...I really feel the need to echo ZYZ here, you're really so...

ZYC looking like ZYZ from behind because of his hair......ZYC's hand shaking holding Bai Jiu's bell............................

Also I'm really glad (I say this through tears) because I saw Bai Jiu didn't have his bell in ep 33/34 and I was like ??

Ah, are you kidding me I thought the pain was more or less over what do you mean Bai Jiu wants ZYC to 勿��勿念 [wù xiǎng wù niàn] (don't think of, don't miss)?? The way 不念不响 [bù niàn bù xiǎng] is literally the title of ZYC's character song, which then plays in the bg ('''':

(I can't really tell how well the subs explain it or how it comes across in translation so apologies if this context isn't necessary but the characters in the song title say "don't read, don't ring," but the character for "ring" is a homophone for "think of" and the character for "read" can also mean "miss." Missing someone/something is "想念" [xiǎng niàn]. Bai Jiu tells ZYC not to miss him through homophonous terms—a book he can't read, a bell that can't ring—and the song title is directly referencing that.) What an elaborate way to hurt me.

Bai Jiu really pulled a ZYC though with a box full of hurt/comfort just like ZYC had left WX

Ohhh the way WX's narration turns into ZYC's?? Honestly this drama's commitment to canonizing ZYC's love for ZYZ to the same level as WX's is really gratifying. And ZYC talking about a bone-deep sadness after ZYZ died. The parallel of baby!ZYC in front of the pond. I especially love the mention of ZYZ's age in comparison to ZYC's, these glimpses of the perspective ZYC has gained with hindsight. The distance of time and reflection and yet the unmistakable fondness and love. It is in part healing to hear.

Also imo ZYC if the scene chosen for ZYZ's POV of you is accurate I'd wager he saw you not as some angry child but as the pinnacle of humanity's beautiful bleeding heart.

ZYZ said it before right? That every human emotion is important? Well ZYC really has been constantly feeling the entire range of human emotion this whole drama lmao

Why yes I do think I need a heartwrenching MV-style montage of all the tragedies of this story that ultimately offers bittersweet catharsis and closure as the OST narrates about searching for someone and finding them in the end. Just what the doctor prescribed tyvm

WX saying ZYZ's final wish was to 落葉歸根 (translated as returning home, literally translates to "fallen leaves return to their root," implies returning home after a long time) the way humans do and ZYZ's soul literally being on a leaf of paper (which kinda sorta works in CN as well since "leaf" and "page" are homophonous) that, carried by the wind, returns to ZYC?? Home??? Are you joking bc I'm sobbing.

Gonna have to use this photo again bc literally how else do I describe how I'm feeling rn?

And that's a fucking wrap. I'm so. I don't even. Wow. Maybe in another couple of business days I'll throw together a brief review of the show as a whole, but right now I'm gonna drown myself in other people's metas and gifs and fics as god intended. Thank you as always for spending the time on my silly ramblings and I hope you enjoyed the ride!

#fangs of fortune #fangs of fortune spoilers #zhuo yichen #tian jiarui #episode commentary #meta #zhao yuanzhou #yuanyi

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