#i said i would keep making these posts as long as the brainrot lasts and by god i will follow fucking through

[neocitybooty]

Honey, I'm home. [M]

Summary: Your husband is constantly away but he makes up for it once he returns.

Genre: Smut, Aged up (early 30s)

Characters: Mark Lee, femme reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: unprotected sex, bodily fluids

A/N: Just some more Mark brainrot. This is also a treat because I've been so busy with life. I'm going to continue with my ongoing fics after this :)

You felt movement from the other side of the bed and a pair of arms wrapping around your waist, shortly after. You slowly blinked out of your sleep and stirred as you were greeted by the moonlight.

It was late.

You waited until midnight, but your husband, Mark…He didn’t show.

Disappointment was no foreign concept to you and it seemed to be a recurring theme in your marriage. You knew it wasn’t Mark's fault and you were well aware of what marrying him would mean for you. The kind of life you would live. Wealthy and pampered… but hidden.

No public posts. No public dates. Lonely birthdays. Lonely holidays.

At least for the time being.

But you loved him. And you knew he loved you too. Some things just couldn’t be helped.

“Babe..” Mark whispered softly in your ear. The familiar and innocent tone was enough to cause your lips to tug upward. You turned your body to wrap your arms and leg around him.

He chuckled and squeezed you tighter as you both buried your faces into each other’s neck.

“Yeah, I missed you too.” Mark said into your neck as he slid his hand into your shorts and softly rubbed your bare ass cheek. He gave it a firm squeeze before finally kissing you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt the warm flesh against your own. He pulled away but you immediately kissed him again.

He looked at you with a puzzled look on his face and you couldn’t help but caress his cheek as the cheekbone rose at a slant and his amused eyes twinkled underneath the moonlight.

“You want to do this right now?” Mark asked you. His voice was low and raspy. Taunting. He knew what you wanted. Because he wanted it too.

You didn’t get a chance to answer. Mark was already pulling off your shorts before you could process your thoughts.

A few hours prior, you were upset. You were complaining to your sister about missing out on yet another holiday because your husband wasn’t in town. You would be going to bed alone, with nothing but an “I love you” to keep you from reaching the brink of insanity. It was reassuring, but it just wasn’t enough. His physical presence was what you truly longed for.

Mark told you…. He told you….you wouldn’t spend Valentine’s day alone this year.

And yet...

You did. But in this moment, you believed a strike against him wouldn’t be fair. In the end, you would be falling asleep in his arms.

“I’m sorry I got back so late, baby. I rushed here as fast as I could.” He softly said into your ear, his tone genuinely apologetic.

You moaned in response as he slipped your lace underwear off of you. A trail of warm kisses decorated your neck as his fingers found his way between your legs. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck and shifted your head so you could kiss him deeply. You were now on your side and draped your leg over him once again.

You gasped and went stiff when you felt Mark’s fingers intrude your wet hole, his thumb gently rubbing your nub. The both of you could hear the squelching of your fluids as he found a steady rhythm. You let out a loud moan as your hips started to gyrate against his fingers.

“Shh, baby. You’re going to wake up the neighbors.” Mark kissed behind your ear and muttered a curse underneath his breath. “Just focus on me.”

Oh how you've missed this.

He brought his lips back to your's and you grew more aroused as your hips and tongue moved along with Mark’s fingers as he continued to slowly move his digits inside of you. You could feel his smile against your lips each time your body would tense up and you would clench around his fingers. But your mind was preoccupied with the taste of his hungry lips.

His kisses were urgent. Needy. Every kiss was as passionate as the last and you only wanted more.

He finally removed his fingers and you felt as though you were breathing for the first time. You heavily exhaled and moaned softly as your hips rolled, the feeling of emptiness becoming unbearable.

“Shiit.” Mark examined his glistening fingers. In awe at the amount of fluid that transferred. “You missed me this much? I can’t wait to show you how much I've missed you.” He bit his lip and gently pulled you onto him, slowly moving his hips as you straddled him.

You felt his hard cock underneath you and it finally dawned on you that Mark had been naked the entire time. He moaned softly when his tip made contact with your wet opening and you reacted by grabbing it and squatting right above it.

Mark reached over to the nightstand and turned on the dim lamp. You smiled at him once the light revealed his features. He responded with a warm smile that reached his eyes and gave you a nod. He did always love to watch.

You held eye contact with him as you slowly lowered yourself, letting his member disappear into your wet core. You gasped as you felt yourself stretching to accommodate his size after months of using alternatives that just didn’t measure up.

Mark whimpered underneath you and slid a hand up into your shirt to fondle a breast. You put your hand over his and started to ride him. Mark let out a breath as his eyes rolled back and he sank even lower into his pillow. You lifted yourself again and lowered slowly enough for you to savor the feeling. You let out a soft moan as you felt yourself getting wetter as the movement grew easier.

“Fuckkk.” Mark shook his head softly and bit his lip again. "Baby, I'm going insane…." Mark could barely finish the sentence before a quiet moan took over. His eyes shut tighter as his fingers dug deeper into your flesh. You yelped when he suddenly started fucking into you. You leaned forward, eventually switching from your feet to your knees, and rested your hand on his chest, a familiar sensation forming in your lower region.

“Are you close, baby? Wait for me. Let’s finish together, yeah?” Mark breathed out as he continued pounding into you. He pulled you into his chest and held your hands behind your back, by the wrists. His eyebrows scrunched together as he began to concentrate so he could last longer- but you began to shake.

“Oh babe no, wait.” Mark whined and gently flipped you over so he was on top. You moaned as he repositioned himself while still inside of you. He filled you up in ways you never thought possible,

You squirmed underneath him as months of pent up sexual frustration surged through Mark’s body. He plunged deeper into you with a long grunt and you instinctively held onto him.

“You take it so well.” He grunted into your ear as he pinned each hand to the sides of your head. He nuzzled his chin into your neck and exhaled as your entire body moved in unison with his thrusts. “I’m so close, baby. Oh fuck..”

You wrapped your legs around him as he stiffened and groaned. You felt the warmth of his seed spill into you as Mark rested on you.

He sighed and propped himself up to look at you with a smile.

“I didn’t finish…” You said softly.

“I've gathered….give me a few minutes and I’ll take care of it.” Mark said as he held eye contact with you. A small smile formed on his lips as he started to caress your cheek.

“Can you do that thing that I like?” You asked him shyly.

Mark let out a small laugh and kissed you. “We’re gonna need a towel.”

[squinch-depraved]

AAAAAGGGHKJ YOU WRITE CHARLIE SO WELL !!!!!!

literally if u post anything abt him i will eat it up idc i have brainrot and your writing is DELICIOUS 💥

explodes you with my mind

this was on my mind a lot so here's trying for a baby with charlie

moonlight streamed through the window, softly illuminating your body. charlie shivered at the visual of you lying on your side, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. he read the notification on his calendar for the fifth time since it appeared and swallowed thickly, trying to gather the courage to do what needed to be done.

"baby," he spoke gently as he nudged you awake. "it's time!"

"hmm?" you groaned groggily.

"you're ovulating!"

you let out a long whine and tried to bury your head under your pillow, but charlie chuckled breathily and rubbed your hip softly.

"c'mon, babe, please," he begged. "i need to cum in you as much as i can if we're gonna start a family! i promise you won't have to do anything, just let me take care of you." he had positioned himself between your legs now, and was planting kisses to the insides of your thighs. the feeling earned a small giggle from you as you watched him.

"you'll do all the work?" you asked suspiciously. he nodded eagerly as he repeated what you said.

"i'll do all the work. just please let me fill you up until you can't hold any more of my cum and there's no shot you're not full of my babies." his words drew a guttural grunt from you, which he took as his sign to strip you of your bottoms and insert his fingers into your dripping cunt.

"i know, i know, shh, it's okay," he assured you when you mewled loudly. "just let me take care of you." he repeated himself firmly and lowered his face to take your sensitive bud in his teeth, smiling against your heat when you yelped.

"charlie!" you cried out as you tangled your hands in his wild brown locks. he merely smiled wider in response and continued to devour you eagerly.

eventually, he tired himself out, and moved on to remove his own pajama pants before sliding into you with ease. the groan he let slip when he bottomed out would stick with you well past this late night session. once he started moving, you couldn't keep your moans quiet any longer.

"fuck, baby, you feel so good," he sighed. "gonna fill you up so full with my cum, hm?" his words drew a low, deep noise from you.

"god, you're lucky you're so good at this," you giggled quietly. charlie chuckled and sped up a bit, rolling his hips into you at a steady pace.

"i'm lucky because i found you," he corrected you as he planted a kiss to your head. "nobody else will make as good a mommy as you will." you couldn't stop yourself from whining as he praised you so sweetly.

the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room, only muffled by the thin blanket draped over your bodies, occasionally covered up by you shrieking his name. he warned you when he was getting close, but he didn't have to. you could always tell by the way his breath hitched in his throat and how his moans started to go up in pitch.

"i-i'm gonna cum, baby," he announced, voice trembling as he frantically bucked his hips into you.

"god, yes, charlie!!" you encouraged him, no longer dead tired from your rude awakening. "give me a baby, please, wanna be a big happy family so bad!"

your words spurred him on to thrust into you even more vigorously, frenzied grunts leaving his lips until he eventually slammed deep into you one last time with a loud groan. wrapping your legs around him and trapping him while he came was apparently the right move, because he shivered after he collapsed onto your chest, refusing to pull out in case his precious seed leaked out of your womb.

"jus' give me a minute or two, love, then we can go again," he panted against your sternum.

"again???" you complained halfheartedly. feeling him smile at how cute you were when you get tired, you sighed deeply and accepted your fate. "whatever, char. go as many times as you want, it'll be worth it when i get to look at our kid's beautiful face and see you staring back at me."

he let out a strangled noise somewhere between embarrassment and horniness and brought one hand up to knead your breast under your shirt. "why do you always have to make me all flustered like this?" he chuckled breathlessly to himself.

"because i love you and you're cute when you're shy," you teased in response.

"stoooop," charlie whined, burying his face in between your tits. "i love you too." it was muffled, but his words made your face flush even more than it already had.

"forever and ever," you mumbled, stroking his hair gently.

"forever and ever," he agreed.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

post US election hangover WIP Wednesday

thanks for tagging me @nisbanisba @carlos-in-glasses @captain-gillian

this whole US election mess is giving me war flashbacks to the Dutch election from last year with unfortunately a similar outcome... and the less said about that the better. I'm normally a news junkie, but today I turned off the breaking news notifications. I've had enough of things happening for now.

I'm also a big fan of sticking my head in the sand and pretending certain things don't exist so I've been writing ficlets all day - mainly for bucktommy (the brainrot is real at the moment) but here's a little something for tarlos with Judd that's been living in my drafts for a while. I don't really remember where I was going with it but maybe this will get the creative juices flowing enough to finish it.

---

“Whose face are you picturing?”

Judd looked up and saw TK leaning against one of the machines in the firehouse gym.

“My own. But I’m not in the mood to talk.”

“Ok.” TK shrugged and sat down on a bench with the weights. “I’ll just sit here and watch then.”

“You want to watch me work out?”

“No, not you. My dad is trying to convince Carlos he’s allowed to use the gym here instead of paying for the one down town.” He explained. “And I do want to watch him work out.” He grinned and winked at Judd.

“Can’t a man just work out in peace here without you making eyes at your fiancé?”

“Sorry, not today.”

Judd rolled his eyes and focused on getting a few more punches in on the bag. If he could just work through his frustrations in peace, the world would be a better place.

“Yes Carlos I’m sure. I’m the captain here and I officially give you permission. You’ll be my son in law in just a few weeks, you’re family.” Owen said, gently pushing Carlos into the gym.

“It’ll only be a few weeks. Just until the gym at the station is done. It’ll be done when we get back from our honeymoon.”

“You can just keep using it after that too, nobody here minds. And like I said, you’re family.” Owen turned him around and patted his shoulder. “Have fun.” He said and left, leaving Carlos standing in the doorway.

TK got up and walked over to him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“If dad says it’s ok, it’s ok.” He insisted. “Come on, we can work out together.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow.

“What? Here? Now?”

“Not that kind of work out. We can do that in the bunk room.” TK teased, a little too loud so Judd would overhear.

“As long as you do it on your own bed and not when I want to sleep, I don’t care.” Judd told them and turned back to the punching bag.

“You alright Judd?” Carlos asked, walking further into the gym and somewhat timidly setting up one of the treadmills.

“Judd is in a mood but he doesn’t want to talk.” TK explained, sitting back down on the weights bench.

“Judd just wants to work out in peace without some smart ass know it all bothering him.” Judd snapped but TK ignored him.

“I can go…” Carlos trailed off.

“No you’re alright. It’s your fiancé that doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m not doing anything! I’m just sitting here admiring my future husband in his workout clothes.”

---

tagging: anyone who wants to share something to make the sucky parts of life suck a little less today.

And also my askbox is always open for prompts! (for tarlos or bucktommy - but please no crossovers because i suck at those)

[l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft]

Brainrotting About A Crimson Rivers Fan Film aaaaa

And because @almostafunctionaladult (hopefully that @'s you cos idk if it worked) and a grand total of four other people liked the post I made about it, I'm gonna barf all my current ideas here

Cos why not??

FULL disclaimer I laid away late into the night conjuring all of this up and when I tried to bother my sibling with all this madness it was only semi coherent so hopefully this will make sense lol Strap in.

TO START OFF! There is SO much content even just in the first arena between all the hell James and Regulus are going through, plus wolfstar's domestic romance thing they have, and all the politics and Sirius' pov in the Hallow during the games. And THEN, you have the whole entire hellscape that is the second half of the fic and the second arena and revolution and shit, so it would be EXTREMELY hard to make a single movie. The original source material couldn't even be made into one book, let alone one movie XD

Which is why I have been stewing and pondering and have decided! Do it miniseries style >:D With the VERY large and generous budget of my dreams, it would be two seasons each with 30-45 minute episodes. Season 1 is 6-12 episodes and covers the first arena as well as the aftermath and ends once James and Regulus are on their way home. Season 2 is definitely more like 12-15 episodes and covers everything that goes down in the last 30 chapters or so.

UNFORTUNATELY, I do not have that splendid or magnificent of a budget as I am just a uni student with delusions of grandeur lol

So I would pick a few fan favourite scenes from the book and make short films about those! Starting off strong with the scene when Regulus and James meet up in the arena the first time cos I ADORE that scene and I need to see it in film XD That one is ALSO very easy to do on a budget which is nice cos it's two actors (which I still need so if you're in the US of A and can make it to Idaho, hit me up whaaaattt who said that??) and a patch of trees I could reasonably pass off as a forest on camera.

Another essential would be the Bear Trap scene and I have SO many fun ideas for camerawork on that one to add to the stress and chaos >:D never lingering on one person for two long to keep up the frantic, panicked feeling in the scene. I'd ALSO love to have a shot of them all just walking and then somehow quickly foreshadow that the trap is coming just for a split second before it cuts to a wide shot of the forest treeline for James' scream as he Gets Got. Then cut right back to all of them and commence the scene. Regulus calling James 'baby' is, of course, a must have in the book-to-film adaptation partly cos it's a recurring theme and hurts a lot when Reg says it later on, and also I just like it :) I would LOVE to do the scene with the death eaters when they catch Regulus and James cos I think that one can be really fun with the expressions. And being able to put Regulus going apeshit on Mulciber for hurting James could be a super cool but to film

I want to do EVERYTHING with Evan cos I love him so much but this is getting long so I'll have to save that for another rant

OH! And how could I forget the BEATBOXING SCENE??? I feel like I'm legally required to film the bit where James is beatboxing in the arena cos it's PEAK comedy but also the right background music could really do wonders in emphasising the level of humanity James still has in him at that point and could make it just a little bit angsty :)

RAGHHH AND MY IDEAS FOR THE FINAL SCENE WHEN REGULUS COMES OUT OF THE RIVER AND THEY REACH FOR EACOTHER! Camera blur will be my BEST friend in that one, giving the illusion that the audience is kind of seeing it from James and Regulus' pov as they're losing lucidity. Maybe some brief hints of flachbacks to all the top Jegulus highlights of the arena in, like, a 'happiest memories' sort of way? But not set on that it might be too much I dunno yet. And then I want to have the very last shot be from Regulus' pov. Imagine with me: we can see his hand in the foreground as he's reaching for James but the camera is swaying and his vision is blurry. Distantly, Slughorn's voice announces the winners of the 84th annual hunger games are none other than James Potter and Regulus Black. James, who had just been staring for the longest time, looks to Regulus, and there could possibly be the slightest twitch in his hand as he reaches back for Regulus, but the moment Slughorn's voice fades, Regulus collapses completely and it cuts to black as he passes out. And that's the end of the film. Roll credits :D

That's all I got for now, and those are only my ideas for the FIRST arena but this was getting long so I gotta cut it here lol XD Anyway yeah hopefully this was semi-coherent and as cool on metaphorical paper as it is in my head lol Let me know what yall think!! And if you have any other ideas I'd LOVE to hear them!!

[thatdeadaquarius]

HELLO IT IS I AGAIN (Razor's mom /real)

So you know those imposters aus where characters chase the reader for being an 'impersonator'?

What if... It's a continuation from my ask (where we meet Razor first before everyone), and Razor is just confused at the patrolling knights near Wolvendom constantly asking him if he have saw 'the impostor'

Tbh he just shakes his head. Who tf is the impostor????? Wtf is an impostor???????

Many question marks later..

He had encountered an epiphany (not really it's just the Springvale ppl talking about someone copying the creator's looks).

The 'Impostor' they have been searching is you.

But you're not an impostor! Razor knows it! Andrius knows it! And with how the nature and the monster responded to you, Teyvat knows it too!

So like the good son he is, he sheltered you even more severely.

Ur not allowed to go out of his sights at this point (he'll still take you to places with many lampgrasses if you still wanna make a crown w it)

And my imagination ends there, do you think there's something else he'd do?

Ty for answering my last request btw, ur the best and I hope you get your favorite characters w one 10 pull and your desired artifacts w the best stats <3

Much love and sweets

-Razor's mom

RAZOR'S MOM!! HELLO aw im so glad u liked it :)

Srry about the late reply! 💜💜💜

Ok, so I think this is a good time to point to my shiny

Writing Requests/About Me Post I have pinned on my 👉 blog!!👈💅 taaa daaaa :) i did it guys here ya go

Yall have been GREAT so far abt keeping the requests chill and fun, and i dont have that many "Donts" that arent obvious (homophobia, transphobia, ableism,etc)

♡

Dont worry Razor Mom, i just wanted to use this as a way to talk about this!! /nm /gen

♡

About Imposter AU, there are plenty of other blogs/posts that write for that or posts under SAGAU tag! :)

I said wayyy earlier on in some of my first asks, but basically I really want to lighten up the Genshin SAGAU / Isekai tag and branch out from all these darker Imposter AUs :)

And also add more world-building posts or AUs <3

(language brainrot for example)!!

◇

TL;DR: I am not accepting hunting down/yandere/cult au/imposter au Genshin Sagau, only a funny or chill version of it.

Please check my writing rules post :)

Example: u look like Creator, but everybody's like, "oh lucky them wow rlly blessed, have a free drink, etc.

OR omfg where r they?? They descended to Teyvat oh fuck we lost our god-"

♡

Heres the Razor post !!!

If u wanna check it out :]

Cracks knuckles, Saddle up Baby, bc its time for my version of the Imposter AU 🤭😋😈

(and sorry for answering super late/possible scare Razor mom anon!! :'/ )

♡

So it begins rlly small right?

Like, Razor does not know the new knight patroling Wolvendom's borders

,, weird but ok, he thinks basically

And then when it was time to visit some domains a little closer to Springvale for grinding

(Or rlly just to get some of their tiny restaurants homemade food yumm)

He notices more Favonius knights lurking around than usual

Or at least widening their patrols

And hes like wtf?

Ur like, huh.

I'll ask Springvale ppl wtf goin on

The locals respond that the search for the Great Creator has begun.

...

...you and Razor: 👁👄👁 w h o m s t ❔️

◇

Upon further questioning

(which was apparantly weird that yall didnt know, but eh, u just used the whole "feral wolf child with feral blacksmith parent living in woods ignorance" excuse)

Admittedly yall, quite literally, live under a rock lmao

They explain theres a whole ass prophecy

Abt how the Great Architect would succumb to a long slumber somewhere else in the vast universe after making the planet.

And when the time is right, they will reconnect to Teyvat, and awaken, and descend in a mortal form

(like the archons)

◇

..but the kicker is nobody knows wtf they look like bc:

1. All that lore is hella crumbly and old, and very hard to translate

2. Mortal forms sometimes look different than god forms, so even if they did know some defining features of the Creator, that wasnt guaranteed to be them...

◇

(i.e. they will have brown eyes, well. Thats a fuckton of ppl with brown eyes innit? 💀)

♤

So thru certain signs, that this mysterious prophecy wooooo

Said would happen, the nations of Teyvat and their many supernatural inhabitants are aware the ultimate god has descended

(The crops flourished? Animals got more wily, many of the sick ppl got better for no reason, the Irminsul started regrowing/filling out its base- like how it looked like a lightning struck tree rn 💀)

So every country are now trying to find them to be the first to welcome them home

Needless to say its lowkey a competition

◇

Meanwhile you and Razor are just:

... (゜▽゜;)

"Haha yeah cool..."

(Andrius already told u what u r to Teyvat and explained to Razor)

Ur both immediately slapping a cloak on u and keeping the hood up all the time

Yall dont wanna be seperated :(

Ur both paranoid for diff reasons,

Razor's just scared his Lupical is going to be taken from him again bc there r better, more refined humans wanting to be ur Lupical ;-;

And ur like-

Omfg that sounds like sm work 💀

While its nice to daydream abt what itd be like to be famous, realistically,

U could not handle that shit.

People crowding you all the time?

U cant just look busted anywhere u go, like a midnight snack run

Ppl would also expect u be,

Responsible??

To act like a competent ruler maybe???

Hell no.

U just wanted to play a pretty gacha game and spoil ur skrunklies

(At least, if they do wanna call u that, they dont make u do anything political 💀 but u doubt it)

◇

Needless to say, Razor is glued to ur side everywhere u go.

A domain a half mile away? Oh he'll come with dw

Ur gonna go stop by that food merchant further up the road for ingredients? Cool he'll sniff the best ones!

Ur going to see Andrius??

Oh he needed to see him too-

😭😭🥺🥺 poor babe

♧

Surprisingly enough,

Or maybe not his house is right tf there

Diluc is the first person to actually recognize you.

Razor had been subtly steering u away from Mondstadt for 3 weeks now, ever since yall talked to the Springvale locals

An u cant say u didnt notice, but u werent rlly stopping him

You wanted to be like Venti, chillin among the ppl regardless of ur powers, not the Raiden Shogun :/

And maybe shock some ppl who dont know ur a god like him too lol

◇

Diluc had been looking around the lesser patroled areas of Mondstadt to search for the Architect

He didn't even need those incompetent knights to tell him their god had finally descended

He already saw the signs long before Mondstadt

Bc youve been in Wolvendom, the area has flourished over time, more fish in the water, more game to hunt and bigger, crows making circles in the sky despite there being no corpse

And one of the closest places to you,

Is the Dawn Winery.

Diluc's security against Venti began to hold up better, the staff didn't have to clean as much things like dirt or weather damage to the manor,

His hawk had never been faster delivering his letters, he almost thought the little guy had been drugged with something

◇

He patroled Stormterror's Lair, and deep in the woods surrounding the manor that the knights hadn't bother to go into

Afterall, he figured you'd never had a mortal form before, so u were unlikely to fend for urself for very long in the woods lol

so he wanted to find u quick (aww softy :')

He even made a trip out to the Thousand Wind Temple and Dragonspine (he did report that one to the knights, he didn't want Amber, Bennett, or Creator-forbid Klee, being the few pyro users to have to explore it)

Finally, after doing the further away locations, siginificant in history and rich with leftover magic

Diluc figured that's where you might land first, so he saved Wolvendom for last

It would at least let him check on that wolf kid and maybe get to talk to him long enough to ask him if he's seen anything unusual.

The lord of Dawn Winery manor heads into the Wolvendom woods, just as sunset colors the trees...

◇

It was a Friday evening, the sun was setting, the weather was pleasant and it was time for all of the Lupical to come together and eat a big feast!! :)

About once a month, Andrius will come out for a few nights and dine with all of yall

Hes an old wolf give him a break, he takes long naps

So u cook lots of Mondstadt favorites to eat on and a few Liyue dishes too

Razor, ur favorite helper, has helped u finish the last dish and is now romping around with the puppies bless <3

U guys have dragged ur coffee table dining table setup out to sit and eat at

Andrius lets out a not too loud, not too quiet howl, and as the wolves, Razor and you lmao join in

Yall dig in, bones flying everywhere, spagetti noodles flingling around, it would put toddlers to shame lol

◇

Diluc hears a howl that is too... big to be a regular wolf.

It filled the air of Wolvendom like no howl before it, as he used the glowing lampgrass to help light the path deeper

He sneaks past a hilichurl camp or two, all fast asleep

He scans the woods, and figures he'll search the woods besides the path after he gets to that old stone carved pit-

Food?

Diluc sniffs the air, and squints deeper into the forest

The black branches shade the way ahead, but just barely... he can see the flicker of orange and blue light?

He summons his claymore, bracing it on his shoulder, and creeps into the treeline to better hide him

◇

You swear to god (dammit swear to.. you??) someone is watching you.

You look around the piles of fluffy doggos, happy and stuffed full they r slowly forming puppy piles

Andrius is finishing his meat platter, also sitting on all four legs on the ground

Razor is splayed on his back beside you, eyes closed, his feet sticking out the other side of the table, u chuckle at him

But not a single Lupical seems to be looking at you.

Gulping down your last few bites, you scan the treeline

U refuse to be that bitch in a horror movie where their gut says smth is off and they brush it off or barely look at their surroundings

Turning around to the treeline behind you, u see something... red fur?

U sit up some more, peering over the bushes at the bottom of the trees

You meet a pair of warm brown eyes, widened like they're just as shocked to see you

As u notice his familiar red high ponytail (but also not?? Its weird going from 2D to 3D and still recognizing bitches)

U peer down at his chest, as he carefully stands out of the foliage-

That familiar star shaped button that u can press for the character menu screen, the same thats on Razor, on Benny, on Fischl, on Lisa-

Hovers over Diluc's chest.

◇

Diluc is in the bush, observing the human(???) stranger (he really doesnt want to attract the attention of that.. giant spirit wolf thing)

The figure sitting at a ... table?? (He can barely process all these absurdities at once, hes only got so much brain space)

Has sensed his presence, and as he grips his claymore, ready to demand answers,

Razor startles, and jumps up, smelling the pyro user, he summons his weapon-

The figure locks eyes with him, and all he sees is gold.

Diluc drops his claymore.

☆

♡

☆

Have a cliffhanger bc idk 🤷‍♂️ Also srry it wasnt exactly Mondstadt finding u, and it somehow turned into a whole scenario?? Idk man

🤧 welp i hope that was decent Razor mom! Tysm for ur sweet feedback abt our beloved son 🙏💜🐺

Feel free to always talk again, thru comments, asks whatever!! :D

♡

Cheers,

💀♒️

(guys im so stupid i coud've been signing off with this simple emoji combo the whole time,, 😭i didnt actually think abt emojifying my name, just making it look pretty with some of my fav emojis... 😔)

If anyone reads this u should let me know which one is better lol

💀♒️

OR

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

OR like a combo???

♡my beloved♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 19

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

He found he had put himself bodily in Guymar’s way. ‘No. No one goes in.’ Anger, irrationally, blossomed. Behind him was the closed door to the tower rooms, a barrier to disaster. Guymar should know better than to barge in and make Laurent’s mood worse. Guymar should have known better than to cause Laurent’s mood in the first place.

one kiss and he’s fully down bad. like these are max levels of damen down bad-ness. it took one kiss. holy shit dude. we went from “laurent knows everything and is always planning something terrible” to “you will NOT bother my poor little meow meow while he does his silent soliloquy”

‘This time, I want it actually kept clear. I don’t care who is about to get molested. No one is to come here. Is that understood?’ ‘Yes, Captain.’ Guymar bowed and retreated. Damen found himself with his hands braced on the stone crenellation, in unconscious echoing of Laurent’s pose, the line of Laurent’s back the last thing he had seen before he had put the heel of his palm to the door. His heart was pounding. He wanted to make a barrier that protected Laurent from anyone who would intrude on him. He’d keep that perimeter clear, if it meant stalking these battlements and patrolling it himself. He knew this about Laurent. That once he gave himself time alone to think, the control returned, reason won out. The part of him that didn’t want to drop Aimeric with a punch recognised that both Jord and Aimeric had just been put through the wringer. It was a mess that needn’t have happened. If they’d just—steered clear. Friends, Laurent had said, high on the battlements. Is that what we are? Damen’s hands drew into fists. Aimeric was an inveterate troublemaker with terrible timing.

this is so ridiculous damen you have laurent brainrot it is so funny how this has unlocked primal rage and determination in you that literal flogging couldn’t

but keep your head up king, this is the chapter where you get to smash

The idea of stopping, allowing himself a moment to think, was terrible. Outside, there was nothing, just the last hours of darkness, and the long ride in the dawn.

and no more laurent to smooch >:(

‘Watch over the Prince,’ he heard himself say. ‘Anything he needs, make certain he has it. Take care of him.’ He was aware of the incongruity of the words, of his hard grip on the soldier’s arm. When he tried to stop, his grip only tightened. ‘He deserves your loyalty.’

damen said “it’s MY turn on the projection”

His time as Laurent’s Captain had been short-lived. An afternoon. An evening. In that time they’d won a battle and taken a fort. It seemed wild and improbable, a hard-edged golden piece of metal in his hand.

also they’d kissed on the mouth. leaving out a pretty essential detail there damen

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Your servants brought me to the wrong rooms.’ ‘No, they didn’t,’ said Laurent.

pffft did they just know? i’m not sure when laurent could have asked them to do it. so they must have just assumed laurent wanted him there

‘I don’t want to talk about Aimeric,’ said Laurent. ‘Or my uncle.’ Laurent began to come forward.

uh laurent i don’t think damen mentioned the regent at all. i think you’re telling yourself to stop thinking about your uncle because you would like to fuck damen without ptsd making it weird

Laurent said, ‘I know you’re planning to leave tomorrow. You’re going to cross the border, and you’re not going to come back. Say it.’ ‘I—’ ‘Say it.’ ‘I’m going to leave tomorrow,’ said Damen, as steadily as he could. ‘I’m not going to come back.’ He drew in a breath that hurt his chest. ‘Laurent—’ ‘No, I don’t care. Tomorrow you leave. But you’re mine now. You’re still my slave tonight.’ Damen felt the words hit, but that was subsumed in the shock of Laurent’s hand on him, a push backwards. His legs hit the bed. The world tilted, bed silks and roseate light. He felt Laurent’s knee alongside his thigh, Laurent’s hand on his chest. ‘I—don’t—’ ‘I think you do,’ said Laurent.

laurent listened to “dead girl walking” from heathers musical on the way up to the rooms in preparation for this. also i love the mixed feelings here—on one hand, hell yeah laurent, let yourself have this, but also this is fucked up for you both, and you really should talk it out, and the fact that you’re demanding his abandonment before fucking him is concerning, like you only want to fuck if you know he’s leaving anyway, but i mean why not then, if he’s leaving, and you know he wants you, and this is the last night to do it…

also laurent knows damen wants this, and he’s not actually using the slave thing here. the only way he’s using it, is calling damen on what he said earlier that evening before the kissing. cashing in on it, in a way. it’s not exactly healthy but i wouldn’t say it’s like non-consensual or anything

‘What am I doing? You are not very observant.’ ‘You’re not yourself,’ said Damen. ‘And even if you were, you don’t do anything without a dozen motives.’ Laurent went very still, the soft words half bitter. ‘Don’t I? I must want something.’

ooof that hit a sore spot, i think. laurent very badly wants to both lose and take control right now, and sex is a way he’s both lost and had control in the past—lost control to the regent, and had it over damen back in arles. he’s trying not to think about that, about the reasons, and damen is trying to make him think about it, and also implying that laurent can’t just do anything because it’s what he wants or feels.

‘Laurent,’ he said. ‘You take liberties,’ said Laurent. ‘I never gave you permission to call me by my name.’ ‘Your Highness,’ said Damen, and the words twisted, wrong in his mouth. He needed to say, Don’t do this. But he couldn’t think past Laurent, improbably close. He felt each shifting inch that divided their bodies with a fluttering, illicit sensation at Laurent’s proximity. He closed his eyes against it, felt his body’s painful yearning. ‘I don’t think you want me. I think you just want me to feel this.’ ‘Then, feel it,’ said Laurent.

“i don’t think you want me, i think you just want me to feel this” is an INSANE and deeply true line. but also, i think laurent does want damen—HIS damen, not damianos. and this is the last night he can have his damen.

and maybe laurent enjoys your reactions, damen. ever think about that?

‘You liked this too, with Ancel.’ ‘That wasn’t Ancel,’ said Damen, the words coming out, raw and honest. ‘That was all you, and you know it.’

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

The rise and fall of Laurent’s hand was like the slide of Laurent’s words, like every frustrating argument that they’d ever had, stymied, tangled up in Laurent’s voice.

great line. love how it ties the sex act to something deeper between them

Laurent held his former mood within him, constrained, and converted into something else.

horny and angry is not the ideal way for them to fuck for the first time, and for laurent to fuck for the first time since [redacted], but since when has anything been ideal for laurent (or damen, as of book 1)

He felt Laurent pulling back, pulling away, shuttering himself, trying but not quite able to manage a cool snap withdrawal. Laurent said, ‘Adequate.’

book 1: “Laurent turned to Damen. ‘Well?’ Laurent said. ‘Can you couple adequately, or do you just kill things?”

He’d caught Laurent’s wrist before, to hold him back from a blow, a knife strike. He held him now. He could feel the desperate urge for retreat. He could feel something else too, Laurent keeping himself apart, as though, this act being finished, he had no template for what to do. ‘Kiss me,’ he said again.

this is so good. it’s good for all the things damen knows, and all the things he doesn’t know. because he’s doing good here, even without the truth about the regent clicking. he’s helping laurent figure this out, confidently and compassionately, and showing him that he doesn’t need to retreat.

Dark-eyed, Laurent was holding himself in place as though pushing himself past a barrier, the tension in Laurent’s body still telegraphing flight, and Damen felt the shock with his whole body when Laurent’s gaze dropped to his mouth. His own eyes fell closed as he realised that Laurent was going to do this, and he held himself very still. Laurent kissed with a slight parting of his lips, as though he was unconscious of what he was asking for, and Damen kissed him back carefully, dizzy with the idea that the kiss would deepen.

see my previous comments about trauma and my appreciation for laurent as a romantic interest/lead

For a moment, looking felt like kissing, an exchange in which the distinctions of intimacy blurred.

"distinctions of intimacy blurred" is such a succinct way to summarize the way pacat writes the overall romantic arc. they do not need to be fucking to be fucking, and when they are fucking, they're doing other stuff too

It was not what Laurent had expected. He felt the slight shock of Laurent’s surprise, and the way Laurent held himself, as though confused as to why Damen wished to do this, but he felt the moment when surprise turned to something else.

“confused as to why damen wanted to do this” yeah that’s pretty typical for laurent

Damen allowed himself the minor delight of nuzzling.

fantastic line

He lifted his fingers to the tie that closed Laurent’s collar. He had been trained to do this, he knew every intricate fastening.

talk about setup and payoff...

Exposed, Laurent’s nipples were hard and puckered, the first tangible evidence of desire, and Damen felt a wild surge of gratification. His eyes lifted to Laurent’s. Laurent said, ‘Did you think I was made of stone?’ He couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure he felt at that, said, ‘Nothing you don’t want.’ ‘You think I don’t want it?’ Seeing the look in Laurent’s eyes, Damen deliberately pushed him back onto the sheets.

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

okay big turning point! probably the first major tell we’ve gotten of laurent being out of control of his reactions, AND he isn’t ashamed of it and asks for more!!! massive laurent (and damen) w!!!

Lifting a hand idly to the exact place above his head where Damen might have pressed it, Laurent gazed back at him through veiled lashes. ‘Like being on top, do you?’ ‘Yes.’ Never more so than at this moment. To have Laurent beneath him was heady.

they’re both having so much fun in different but complimentary ways. laurent enjoys what he’s doing to damen, damen enjoys what laurent is doing to him. they’re both getting something out of it, which i don’t think damen fully understood what he said that thing about laurent not wanting him, but wanting to make him feel. he wants it because it’s you specifically, dummy.

Despite the cool tone, he was aware of the extent to which Laurent was holding himself in place, allowing himself to be touched. Tension still glinted in Laurent’s body, like the shine on a blade edge that would slice you open at the wrong touch.

Damen let himself experience dizzily just how much he liked the idea of controlled Laurent betraying himself in salt flavoured need into his mouth. He touched it with his hand and encountered a texture like hot silk.

i like how pacat finds these ways to say what’s going on, but in a much more compelling and beautiful way than just “damen wanted to blow him” and “his dick was nice”

‘I am not going to reciprocate.’ Damen looked up. ‘What?’ Laurent said, ‘I am not going to do that to you.’ ‘And so?’ ‘Do you want me to suck your cock?’ said Laurent, precisely. ‘Because I don’t plan to. If you are proceeding on the expectation of reciprocity, then you had best be forewarned that—’ This was too convoluted for bed play. Damen listened, satisfied himself that in all of this talking there was no actual objection, then simply applied his mouth.

LOVE THIS. how complicated traumatized laurent trying to deflect is just washing over damen, he doesn’t care if it’s not reciprocal, he just wants to make laurent feel good. something laurent doesn’t understand or expect because sex for him has always been about making [redacted] feel good and that’s it. and laurent’s bitchiness here is so tenderly and funny and in character. he delivered a “precise treatise on cocksucking” in book 1, of course he’d regard this like a business negotiation

For all his seeming experience, Laurent reacted like an innocent to this pleasure. He let out a soft shocked sound, and his body re-formed around the place where Damen was giving his attention. Damen held Laurent in place, hands to hips, and allowed himself to enjoy Laurent’s slight, helpless shifts and pushes, the quality of his surprise, and the hard act of repression that followed, as Laurent tried to even out his breathing.

damen associates sex with happily giving and receiving pleasure, so he’s confused/surprised by laurent’s unfamiliarity with actually getting attention and enjoying himself

Laurent was, by far, the most controlled lover Damen had ever taken to bed.

damen a lot of them were slaves. coached to make you feel like a god. just saying

And felt it stymied. As rhythm built, Laurent’s body locked down, his responses repressed. Looking up, he saw that Laurent’s hands were fists in the sheets, his eyes closed, his head turned to one side. Laurent, out on the shattered edge of pleasure, was holding himself back from climax by sheer force of his impossible will.

again i say, i’m so glad to see someone like laurent as the love interest in a romance novel, holy shit

After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, ‘I . . . find it difficult to let go of control.’ ‘No kidding,’ said Damen.

:) a really nice tension-breaking way to find a little humor in it all, made even lighter by damen’s lack of awareness re: [redacted]

‘You want to take me, as a man takes a boy.’

this is the first moment where i’m just like DAMEN. truly. how are you not guessing this. i get that it���s consistent with his character to not assume the worst, but oh my god

‘You make it sound simple.’ ‘It is simple.’

The words fell into a stillness between them. Laurent’s breathing was shallow, and his cheeks were flushed as he closed his eyes, as though he wanted to block out the world. ‘I want,’ said Laurent, ‘I want it to be simple.’

‘Yes,’ said Laurent. ‘But—wasn’t it—’ ‘Will you stop talking about it.’ The words were ground out.

oh he’s trying so hard to let himself have this. probably before he feels really ready but it’s his last night with damen so!!

For all his bizarre nervy tension, Laurent was indisputably eager, physically. Damen searched his blue eyes. ‘Contrary, aren’t you,’ said Damen softly, thumbing over Laurent’s cheek. ‘Fuck me,’ said Laurent. ‘I want to,’ said Damen. ‘Can you let me?’ He said it quietly, and waited, as Laurent’s eyes closed again, a muscle sliding in his jaw. The idea of being fucked very clearly had Laurent out of his mind, as desire competed with some sort of convoluted mental objection that really needed, Damen thought, to be dispensed with. ‘I am letting you,’ said Laurent, the terse words pushing out. ‘Will you get on with it?’

this is so well-written, both what’s in the lines and what’s in between them. it’s a sex scene but it’s also a masterful scene of dramatic irony and characterization for them both

He watched Laurent’s face, the slight flush, the fractional changes of his expression, his eyes wide and dark. It was intensely private.

of course he's in his own head. that's laurent, for better or for worse

He felt some sense that he needed to hold onto this, to hold it tight and never let it out of his grip. You’re mine, he wanted to say, and couldn’t. Laurent didn’t belong to him; this was something he could have only once. His chest hurt.

To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up. Never had he wanted something this badly, and held it in his hands knowing that tomorrow it would be gone, traded for the high cliffs of Ios, and the uncertain future across the border, the chance to stand before his brother, to ask him for all the answers that no longer seemed so important. A kingdom, or this.

i don’t have much to add here. it’s being explained perfectly in the text. it's nice to be at this point of understanding with the characters and plot that things can come together like this, thematically, on the page.

[fatuismooches]

HIII SMOOCHES! I’m going on a dottore brainrot rampage and I’ve been craving zandy content like I just want to pinch his cheeks and protect him at all costs! BUT imagine if like, the segments pissed off reader one day because they’re so busy that they kind of stopped paying attention to them, so reader decides that instead of spending time with them they will instead spend time with zandy 🥺.

AND LIKE imagine if (in revenge) they just bake cupcakes and keep them all to themselves knowing that the segments have like this sweet tooth but they won’t get any cupcakes! 🧁Like imagine if Zandy tries to remake Webttores mask using white and black frosting on a cupcake but it just.. looks bad😭 I can just imagine how cute I’d be! Like one cupcake has too much blue frosting and sprinkles so it’s very sugary while one barely has anything because the frosting was finished. One cupcake has tiny eggshells in it because zandy didn’t crack the egg correctly 😭So like- while the segments are busy with their lab stuff there’s just reader and zandy making treats behind everyone s back.

IMAGINE IF A SEGMENT WALKED IN ON THEM ABD JUST STARED LIKE:😦 because they thought Zandy was busy studying or something and taht reader was possibly in one of the labs BUT instead they just see the kitchen being an absolute mess, flour everywhere, a bunch of dishes are also dirty😶 and they’re possibly wondering where did the sprinkles come from because they were sure they didn’t buy any sprinkle NOR FROSTING- what would the segments reaction be? Would they get jealous or let it slide because Zandy is a kid and stuff

Im sure you did something close but I’m missing Zandy content and I’m also craving cupcakes- I’m pretty sure I saw a post related to baking and stuff so I got inspired Sorry if there are any mistakes because my English is not very good😓 by the way can I be 🪭anon, pretty please ?

(x) With how many lovers you have, you'd think that you'd never be left wanting for attention... however, much to your dismay, that is incorrect. Even you, their darling, can be pushed aside for their experiments/research/work. And look, you're a pretty patient person, you understand they can't always pay attention to you, and you understand that. You've endured a lot of their Dottore-ness, and can cope pretty well, but this is far too much! When was the last time you were showered in their attention and kisses! Well, if that's how they want to be, then so be it! You'll deny them of your affection too! And instead spend it with someone who actually appreciates you, little Zandy of course! Doing what, you ask? Baking, of course! Making his favorite treats for being such a bb!

Although Zandy is sad watching you be sad that the other segments are neglecting you, at the same time he's happy because you're paying so much attention to him! The other segments always try to barge in and steal your attention... it's not fair... but not today! ZANDY TRYING BUT FAILING TO DESIGN THE CUPCAKES AS THE SEGMENTS IS TOO CUTE. After the first botched cupcake, you just laugh and then put your hands over Zandy's much tinier ones, directing and guiding him to frosting the cupcake properly. You definitely make more with the other masks, his earrings, the other Harbingers, etc!

The segments found you because of how much you two were giggling and having a grand old time without them... And to answer your question, it doesn't matter who or what is hogging your attention... if it's stolen for too long, they will get grouchy and annoyed... but the catch is that they can't get mad at Zandy because you will raise hell if anything mean was said to your precious baby. So they have to settle for pointed glares at you two instead as you hog all the cupcakes. Needless to say, they've learned their lesson.

[matchabirb]

"Captain! Captain!!"

The crew needed their captain. He needed to get home.

Note: It's been a few weeks (I think??) since I posted the brainrot about Ody's trauma! As promised, here's the fic about it. The original plan was for it to be put in parts but I decided to just put it all as a single oneshot!

Total word count: 13.3k words

TW: Slightly graphic descriptions, blood, vomit, panic attacks, cursing, slight religious themes(?), spoilers for EPIC: The Musical Sagas, contains references to the actual Odyssey, themes of PTSD and Trauma. Viewer discretion HIGHLY advised.

---

“Captain!” A voice called out from behind. Odysseus turned around to see his men boarding the ships they’ll be taking to Troy. A simple gesture of a head was all Odysseus needed to understand what the soldier was trying to tell him, “hurry it up please.” He gave a nod and turned back to his wife and son, who was just barely a few months old. 

He mustered up a somber smile and leaned in to give one final kiss to Penelope’s lips, but she moved her head to the side, avoiding the kiss with a sly smile. “When you get home,” she said, a teasing yet loving glint in those eyes that Odysseus always loved. He chuckled and nodded, playfully pouting as he was denied a kiss from his beloved. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Telemachus’s forehead, and he prayed to the gods above that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be able to do this.

“It won’t be the last,” Athena reassured him, her voice echoing through his mind. Odysseus believed his friend wholeheartedly. Together, they’ll lead everyone and win this war.

He walked over to his younger sister, Ctimene, and his mother, who had just finished sending off Ctimene’s husband. Anticlea, his mother, had a sad smile on her face with tears in her eyes as she opened her arms for a hug. Odysseus didn’t hesitate. He went into his mother’s arms, embracing her tenderly as he did his best to comfort her crying. He felt Ctimene join the hug as well and the three stayed like that together for a while. He felt his mother’s hands gently patting down his messy hair, like she always did before. “When you come home, I’ll be waiting,” the woman promised her son, the same words her daughter told her husband. Odysseus smiled and looked at his mother in earnest, “I promise. I won’t take long.”

He heard quick approaching footsteps and turned to see his father, Laertes, followed by Eumaeus, a servant that was raised alongside him and his sister as equals. Odysseus gave a smile to the man who was like his brother, “Take care of the family, will you?” He told the swineherd, who smiled back despite the worry and concern evidently displayed on his face. The two men shared a silent promise together; one will keep everyone safe in Ithaca, and the other will come back as soon as possible. 

Odysseus then turned to Laertes, who patted him firmly on the shoulder, “Don’t venture too far, Ody. We both know your mother gets a heart attack when you do.” The older man smiled at his son, the same way he always did when Odysseus would leave to go hunting; the smile that conveyed all sorts of pride and love Laertes held for his children. “I promise,” Odysseus said for the second time as he gave his father a hug, both men pulling Eumaeus in not even a moment after.

With that, he turned around and headed to the docks, boarding the ship and making sure everything was in order. As he gave the command to start leaving, Odysseus can’t help but rush back to watch the shrinking form of his wife and the island. It hasn’t been an hour and he already missed home, missed Penelope, missed Telemachus, missed his mom, his dad, his family. 

“I’ll see you soon, everyone,” Odysseus murmured under his breath; another promise to reunite with everyone when the war was over.

“Ody!” A familiar, lighthearted voice called out from behind, and Odysseus felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. He turned his head and saw Polites, his dearest friend, one he’s known since childhood. Next to Polites stood Eurylochus, Odysseus’s right hand man and brother-in-law, a friend just as valuable. After he saw the bright smile on Polites’s face and the strong expression on Eurylochus’s, the homesickness felt alleviated, even for just a few moments. 

At that moment, Odysseus made a promise to himself. He won’t lose anyone. Not Polites, not Eurylochus, not a single person in his crew. It’s his duty as king, as captain, to get them all home alive.

______________________________

“Captain!” A familiar and firm voice called out from behind. Eurylochus, Odysseus’s right-hand-man, approached, a small frown on his face. “Captain, we’ve run out of supplies to eat,” Eurylochus informed, looking at the crewmates who silently complained amongst themselves while rowing the boat. “We have all the reasons to take what we can. So captain, what’s the plan?” He asked, fully confident that the crafty Odysseus would think of something.

And think of something, Odysseus did. “Watch where the birds fly, they will lead us to land,” he said, pointing up to a flock of birds that flew above them. “There we’ll hunt for food, my second-in-command,” He smiled, giving the taller man a playful and light punch by the shoulder. He turned back to his crew, a smile on his face at the thought of getting some food to fill his and his friends’ stomachs. “Now, full speed ahead!” He didn’t even have to tell the crew twice, and all 600 men had the same motivation to get something to fill them as they rowed in unison.

“Captain!” Polites’s bubbly voice entered Odysseus’s ears as soon as he felt the man wrap an arm around him. He smiled and turned to his friend, greeting him with his name as well with a smile on his face. “Look!” Polites pointed out to the distance, a small island near the direction the ships were sailing toward. “There in the distance! I see an island, I see a light that faintly glows,” Polites gave his observations with an excited grin on his face as Eurylochus and Odysseus both followed where he was pointing. “Maybe they’re people, lighting a fire. Maybe they’ll share some food, who knows?”

A whisper of Athena in his ear made Odysseus think twice before getting excited, however, “Something feels off here. I see fire, but there’s no smoke.” Eurylochus, too, was suspicious, and became even more so after his friend’s comments, “I say we strike first.” The right-hand-man suggested, ignoring Polites’s staring at him as if he were crazy, “We don’t have time to waste, so let’s raid the place and-” “No,” Odysseus shook his head, not wanting to risk anything. Just about everyone in the ship was hungry and tired from fighting the ten-year war in Troy. Raiding the island and not knowing just what might be there would be a waste of everyone’s energy.

He turned to Polites, “Polites, gear up. You and I’ll go ahead.” Polites grinned at a chance to spend some time with his childhood friend and immediately headed to strap on some armor and bring his sword with him. He looked to his right-hand, “We should try to find a way no one ends up dead,” he said. Eurylochus would stay behind, keep everyone in line and make sure they were safe. Odysseus trusted Eurylochus to do that and so much more; Eurylochus had always been the rational-minded one, which gave Odysseus both the logic and the reasoning he needed to take note of when making decisions. Even now, Eurylochus had no fear protesting or questioning the king’s plan, “We don’t know what’s ahead.” Odysseus smiled and reassured his friend, “Give me till sunrise, and if we don’t return,” he paused to look at the island in the distance, “Then 600 men can make this whole place burn.”

“Now full speed ahead!”

______________________________

“Captain…” Polites’s weak and strained voice called out to him, a hand reaching out, his eyes begging, pleading, for Odysseus to come save him. Like he’s done so many years ago, like he’s done so many times in the war. Odysseus had never failed Polites, not once, not ever. 

So then why did he fail Polites now?

“Enough.” The cyclops’s deep voice rumbled throughout the cave, echoing through every ridge and Odysseus practically felt the vibrations of the voice from under his feet. The cyclops lost his patience, and Polites’s body is hit with a second smash, the sound reaching the depths of Odysseus’s soul and tugging on it harshly.

Odysseus stood there, looking at the battered, still, bleeding form of Polites. His glasses fell to the side, a lens cracked, the man’s bandana stained with blood. Polites’s arm fell limp just as the life left his eyes, his soul soon to be on its way off to Hades. Odysseus can’t see anything, can’t hear anything. How did it come to this? They were winning, weren’t they? He had a plan, he had a plan to make sure they’d make it out of here alive. 

Odysseus shook and trembled where he stood. He distantly processed his crewmates and men screaming, “Captain! CAPTAIN!!” just before the cyclops’s club would hit them so abruptly. The sounds of the squelching of bodies and the cracking of bones permeated through the air, piercing through Odysseus’s ears. As if that weren’t enough, splatters of blood fell and hit his skin, as if the Fates wanted to rub his failure in his face. The scent of iron and the sticky deep crimson that stained his cheek and sides clung onto him like a vice, a constant reminder of what he let happen to his comrades. 

Every breath he took, the metallic scent penetrated his lungs, his body, his everything. Not even the sight of war could have prepared him for this. Not when the blood stuck to his armor was his friends’, his people. He can’t breathe, he shouldn’t breathe, lest he wanted the fetor of the gore and horror around him to enter his system like poisoned gas. Odysseus flinched the wrong way as he heard another crack! just a few feet away, and bile rose up through his gastric tract. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he stumbled backwards, stomach acid leaving his mouth with a heavy cough and wheeze. He raised his hands to stop the flow of his body fluids leaving his mouth, and he felt his stomach groan in pain from hunger and disgust. A shiver crawled up his spine, he couldn't even hear what the cyclops was saying anymore. He couldn’t hear his comrades' screams anymore. Just a loud, ringing sound in his head as his eyes trained solely on Polites. 

Everything else was a blur to him. He can’t hear Athena’s words, the goddess trying to reach him through her Quick Thought, but Odysseus can’t feel it. With the fall and dimming of his light, Odysseus finally realized he was in actual danger. This isn’t something he can finish quickly and with ease. This is a monster, he finally gets in his head. A monster who took the lives of his men, his brothers, his friends. There was no such thing as mercy when dealing with monsters, Athena’s words from before echoed through his mind. Yet with each intake of the putrid smell of blood and guts in the darkness of the cave, Odysseus remembered Polites. He remembered his words, his beliefs, his ideals. 

“Just let me be your light!”

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms!”

“Let me be the stars you see at night! Let me be the arms that hold you tight!”

“Whatever we face, we’ll be fine if we’re leading from the heart!”

As the cyclops finally fell victim to the lotus fruits Odysseus snuck into the wine he offered, Odysseus collapsed to the ground along with the monster. The large body of the cyclops covered the entrance of the cave, blocking the main source of light from coming inside. Everything went dark, the only thing illuminating the surroundings being the torches some of the men lit up. But Odysseus didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to have to go through the darkness without his light. Without Polites. Without Penelope. Odysseus wasn’t sure if the darkness and black spots littering his vision was a blessing or a curse from the gods above, from the fates. He couldn’t see a thing, not the bodies, not his crew, not his hands that were stained with blood, sweat, and vomit.

“-tain!” He heard someone call out to him. He doesn’t move.

“-aptain!” He heard someone call out to him again. He still doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare move.

“Captain!!” Eurylochus shook him a few times, snapping Odysseus out of his wallowing and spiraling down to despair. Odysseus remembered again. His duty. His responsibility. He was their captain. He had to lead his men out of this. He was their king, their leader. “Then act like it,” The wisdom goddess urged, speaking into his mind.

Odysseus was their captain. He had to lead them. He had to lead them home.

______________________________

“Captain!” An energetic voice, Perimedes, called out as Odysseus boarded the ship after speaking with the wind god, Aeolus, “What’s happenin’?” Just behind Perimedes followed Elpenor, and both asked in unison, “What’s trapped in that bag?” 

Odysseus shook his head, keeping the bag away from their reach. He has to lead them, he has to lead them, he has to lead them, he chanted in his mind as he replied, “Something dangerous friends, we mustn't lag.” “It’s treasure!” Something in the wind whispered into the men’s ears in that moment, and Odysseus tensed up, the weight of what he just got into crashing down on him. “What…”

“Open the bag!” “Let’s see what you got!” Perimedes and Elpenor both seemed excited at the prospect of treasure, both reaching out to the bag Odysseus held tightly in his hands, before Odysseus pulled away just in time, “No do not!!” Odysseus flinched at how tense he became and took a deep breath to calm himself, ignoring the confused and concerned faces of his companions. “Everyone, listen closely. See how this bag is closed?” He raised the closed bag in his hand, making sure no one was in reach of it, “That’s how it’s supposed to be. This bag has the storm inside. We cannot let the treasure rumor fly.” He commanded, not requested, his comrades. This has to be kept under wraps. “We’ll try,” everyone agreed, or so Odysseus hoped.

For nine days straight, he had stayed awake, making sure none of his crewmates would try getting their grubby hands on the bag and open it. Thus far, he was successful in making sure the bag was closed, and that their journey home was to be as smooth-sailing as possible. He could almost hear Penelope’s voice, he could almost see that wonderful face he fell for at first sight, that smile that made his heart soar. He couldn’t wait to meet his son, now. How long has it been since he’s last seen Telemachus? About twelve years now… it’s been far too long. Did Telemachus look like Penelope, or would he have taken after Odysseus more? What did his son like? His favorite food? The games he’d play? What of his mom? Ctimene? Eumaeus? His dad? Argos?

He needed to get home now. And he’d bring the rest of his men back with him, along with the memory of those they’ve lost.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” Polites’s voice echoed in his mind once again, and Odysseus promised to himself that he’ll do so. Lead from the heart, and see what starts. Odysseus swore to himself that he’d emulate Polites in all he did, so that he could at least keep the memory of his best friend alive.

He needed to stay awake, Odysseus shook his head when he caught himself almost dozing off. Keep your eyes open, keep your eyes open, he chanted to himself, along with his mind’s hallucinations of Penelope and what could be Telemachus, motivating him to stay awake. He had to stay awake. He had to get home. They all had to get home. They were so close now. Just a few handful of hours left of sailing and they’d dock in Ithaca, and they’d finally be home. Odysseus could already see his kingdom nearing from the distance, the outline of the palace and island just slightly covered by some fog. The gentle ripples of the waters below them slowly soothing him. Just the thought of finally embracing his family, of taking a break, getting some sleep…

He needed to stay awake, he needed to stay awake, he needed… to… sleep……… 

“Wake up. Odysseus, they’re opening the bag, WAKE UP!!” The hallucination of Penelope’s voice yanked Odysseus from the realm of Hypnos and suddenly he became hyper-aware of the overpowering winds swirling around his fleet. A few feet away from him, the bag Aeolus gave laid on the ground, winds escaping, faintly laughing carefreely as they did. Odysseus fell to his knees, his hand reaching out as if he could grab onto the retreating form of Ithaca in the distance. “NOOOOOOO!!” He screamed in desperation, his heart clenching in his chest in anguish.

______________________________

“The line between naïveté and hopelessness is almost invisible,” Poseidon’s words echoed across Odysseus’s fleet. If Odysseus thought Polyphemus’s voice was terrifying to hear in a closed space, the god’s voice was even worse, even in the open air. The sound was louder than the raging waves under the ships, but Poseidon kept them all afloat, for better or for worse. “So close your heart, the world is dark,” the god spoke, slowly raising the trident in his hand threateningly. Odysseus tensed up, and immediately prepared to command his men to… to do… something..! But what could they do? They were cornered by the god of the sea, on the sea. There was nowhere they could run, nowhere they could turn to, lest they risked angering the already vengeful god even more.

“And ruthlessness is mercy,” Poseidon suddenly slammed down his trident, the giant three-pronged spear hitting the bottom of the ocean. Fitting to the god’s title, the earth and waves started to shake from the impact, and Odysseus was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt like they were getting pulled in all four directions at once.

“Die.” The finality of the god’s tone spoke a command. A demand, one only a god like Poseidon could make. And the tides would always obey the orders of their lord, creating turbulent waves and crashing against the ships of Odysseus’s fleet. A pack of wolves surrounded by sharks indeed. It became hard to find his footing from the crashing and swinging of the ships, and Odysseus felt his heart stop when he heard a distant call.

“Captain! Captain!!” Men from the other ships screamed and called and shouted as they cried for help, before their ship capsized from the waves. “Captain!! Captain!!” Another group of soldiers shouted, from the other side this time, and Odysseus managed to run over to the side of his ship, if only to watch as another set of about 50 men fell victim to Poseidon’s wrath. “Captain!! Captain!!!” Another ship is covered and drowned under the waves, some sea creatures even jumping out of the water to snag bites out of some sailors who tried to swim away. The salty and would-be refreshing smell and feeling of the ocean slowly became accompanied with the sharp smell of the blood that stained the previously clear waters. 

“Captain!!!” More sailors called out, as they drowned and fell to the bottom of the sea, never to be found again. Once again, Odysseus found himself nonrespondent, as he watched all the ships, except for his, submerge under the sea. All the soldiers, about 580 soldiers, called out for Odysseus, for their captain. But what could their captain do? What can they do? What has their captain ever done if not watch as everything went wrong, as everything went terrible. 

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe again. Not again. He had to do something! Anything! Suddenly, he was back in Polyphemus’s cave, blood curdling screams echoing throughout the crevices of the cavern and in Odysseus’s mind. He had to get out of here. Polites’s dead body laid before him, and his worn out voice called out to him once again, “Captain…” From Polites’s body, to the vomit-inducing cracks and squelches that were emitted whenever the cyclops would slam his club to the ground. Suddenly, Odysseus felt the blood that stuck to his skin and armor, felt the reeking of blood that he had to breathe in, felt his body get stained by the crimson that made his skin crawl and hairs raise, felt the burning feeling when he tried scrubbing every speck of blood and grime off of him and his armor. 

They needed their captain then. They needed their captain now. Yet their captain could never do anything but watch. Watch as the fates eagerly reaped the consequences of treachery and foolishness, watch as the Keres came to feast on blood and flesh and bring the souls to Hades, watch as Moros whispered and brought forth the misery that they thought they had escaped. All their so-called captain ever did was watch as beings far beyond the power of a mortal king took lives and mercilessly wrought terror and what they believed to be justice. 

Odysseus took a shaky breath, even though everything in his mind screamed at him to succumb to the suffocating waves that never truly reached his ship. He scanned his surroundings, ships broken and fallen apart, washed away by the waves, bodies of his men slowly dropping down the water and floating back up, motionlessly, there were no ships left. None except for his. From twelve ships, only one had recovered the wrath of the sea god. Odysseus trembled where he stood, but all the voices in his mind reminded him to stand tall, to be the captain he is, to be the king he is. And yet…

“What have you done?” was all Odysseus could utter in that moment. The product brought by destruction, brought by the wrath of a god, the wrath of a father whose son was harmed. The used-to-be gentle ripples of the water were nowhere to be found, and replaced instead with the waves only seen in depictions of tragedies and the punishments given by gods. A tragedy. That is what this was. Is that what this would continue to be? Odysseus prays to the gods (yet his faith fails him, and he gets an inkling that no god would even listen to his pleas at this moment) that it would not be so, that this story would at the very least have a happy ending, that the fates would finally have mercy on him and his crew. 

“Forty-three left under your command,” Poseidon smirked, as if he enjoyed the destruction and pain and suffering he just brought. He probably did, Odysseus thinks, after all, they had brought this upon themselves. No. Odysseus brought this upon themselves. He was the one who so foolishly let his name fall from his lips as he left. He should have left the cyclops as he was. Maybe then, they would have gotten the chance to get home. 

Maybe then, Odysseus could have truly acted as the captain he’s supposed to be. He was no captain. Not to his crewmates, not to himself, not to anyone.

______________________________

“Captain?” A voice carefully called out from behind, and Odysseus had to hide and hold back to urge to flinch. He immediately looked around discreetly, mentally counting the number of soldiers currently on the ship and slowly resting on the shores of the island they found themselves in. One, two, three, four, … forty-two. Forty-three, including Odysseus. They’re supposed to be forty-four. Someone is missing. Eurylochus! His mind ran just as fast as Hermes as he assessed his surroundings, trying to find the threat in the silent island. He snapped out of it when he felt a thick and strong hand rest itself on his shoulder.

He sharply turned around, his hand closing in on his sword out of reflex. Whomever this person was, had to be the reason for Eurylochus’s absence–

Eurylochus stood before him, a worried frown on his face as he rested a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder. “Captain,” the bigger man spoke again, the crease of his brows deepening when he felt the flinch of Odysseus from under his hand. “I have something that I must confess,” he continued, eyeing his friend carefully and with concern. “Something that I must get off my chest,” Eurylochus took a deep breath and looked at his brother-in-law, “Until it is said, I cannot rest.”

When Odysseus gave no reply, only despondently staring out to the distance, Eurylochus frowned and tried to get his attention, albeit reluctantly. “Captain?” Odysseus flinched again, and after a quick survey again to count the forty-three men around him, looked back at Eurylochus, a stoic expression on his face, “Eurylochus, go make sure this island is secure.” The right-hand-man, evidently not willing to prolong his internal suffering and the guilt that ate at him, protested, “But captain-” Odysseus cut him off before he could finish saying that… repulsive title he did not deserve, “There’s only so much left we can endure.” There’s only so much left he can endure at this point.

“Whatever you need to say can wait some more,” Odysseus says, ignoring the downcasted expression on his friend’s countenance. It can wait until they’ve reached home, until Odysseus has gotten some rest, until Odysseus has seen his wife. “Of that I’m sure,” that was a lie. Ever since Polites, when has he ever been sure of anything? Everything’s changed since the light went dark, since the cyclops, since Poseidon. 

And Eurylochus could see the grief that marred his dear friend’s face and relented with a hesitant sigh and nod, “Okay.” The right-hand went off to gather some soldiers to come with him to scout and survey the area. With Eurylochus, came along Elpenor, Perimedes, and Georgios. That left Odysseus with about forty or so soldiers to take care of, and what Odysseus hoped to be enough time to reflect and think to himself. He can leave his men for a while to think, right? They were grown men, for gods’ sake, they’ll be fine without him for a few minutes. 

Odysseus ended up taking what felt like the best nap of his life against a tree, facing his crew, until he heard the rustling of leaves from behind him, and the frantic pitter-patter of heavy and familiar footsteps. He woke up with a small startle, and stood up instinctively, his heart racing as he prepared for any possible dangers that may befall him and his men. When he turned to check who approached, he saw only Eurylochus running back. 

Like a protective (obsessive) shepherd, he counted his crewmates again to check how many people were here and how many weren’t. Three were missing. Eurylochus left with three people, and those same three were missing. Where did they go? What happened? He looked up to the sky to check how much time had passed; it’s only been about a little less or a little more than an hour. “Eurylochus, back so soon? Where’s the rest of your crew?” Odysseus asked as he watched the man run back to him, disheveled with twigs sticking out everywhere and small scratches here and there. The state of his brother-in-law made Odysseus frown in concern, “And by the gods, what happened to you?”

Out of breath, Eurylochus started to explain what had happened, “We came across a palace. Inside, we heard a voice that seemed to show no malice. To greet it was our choice, but nothing could prepare us for the power that awaited inside.” The man said quickly, trying to catch his breath as he tried to process what had happened. One of the crewmates walked over and handed the poor man a recently filled waterskin, to which Eurylochus took big gulps out of. “What did the palace hide?” Odysseus urged, but waited patiently until his friend was finished.

He took a deep breath again and spoke, his voice now full of vigor and the energy the soldier usually had, “Sir! Since we left home, we’ve faced a variety of foes from a wide range of places.” Odysseus raised an eyebrow at the odd start of the introduction of whomever or whatever this threat was. “Gods,” they did not really ‘face’ the gods they’ve encountered and more so just barely survived by the skin of their teeth, Odysseus remarked in his head but didn’t interrupt Eurylochus. “Monsters, you know the roster. Hostile creatures that we could resist,” Again, ‘resist’ is a stretch; they just barely survived. Not all of them survived, and that fact weighed heavily on Odysseus’s mind. 

“But this was a hell of a twist! Because we are WEAK to a power like this!” Eurylochus’s words, slightly exaggerated as they may sound, made Odysseus’s hair stand up, and he tensed up in worry. “What was it?” He asked, worried for what became the fate of the three people that didn’t go back with Eurylochus. The answer to his question wasn’t one he expected, nor anywhere at the list of the possible creatures that may have resided in an island like this.

“A woman.”

What.

“What?” Odysseus squinted his eyes in confusion. He saw a few other crewmates look over at the mention of a woman and the king had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes at them. Twelve years without their wives or lovers truly took an evident toll on most of them, it seemed. Even so, he can’t help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at the slightly anticlimactic answer, despite the buildup of this woman. Was Eurylochus simply jesting…?

Eurylochus was obviously very serious about his words, no matter how outlandish they may be. “She had us in just two words,” He spoke, and everyone listening, Odysseus included, leaned in a bit closer to urge him to continue (albeit all of them had different reasons for their curiosity). “Come inside,” a few of the sailors listening in bursted out laughing, causing some others to look over in confusion. Even Odysseus himself couldn’t hold back the snort that came out of him at the double entendre, “Damn”. For very obvious reasons, he didn’t find it very far-fetched that this woman, whoever she was, had some of his men wrapped around her finger with such words.

Eurylochus huffed out a small laugh, but continued anyway, “She welcomed us and told us to rest where we wished. She called herself, Circe. Only I stayed outside, but the other three went in. I watched them from a window, and she offered them some food. A couple nymphs went in with all sorts of dishes, more than enough for a feast’s worth.” Odysseus nodded slowly, waiting for the moment things truly got bad. Three of his men were missing doing who knows what because of who knows who, and Odysseus was not ready to lose any more of his friends because of his inattentiveness. “Yet by the time they ate, it was far too late,” were the words that made Odysseus perk up in alert. What happened? Was the food poisoned? Were they sick? Dead? Before he had the chance to ask, though, Eurylochus continued, “For inside the meal, she had cast a spell.”

A spell? So this Circe woman was a witch, then? Odysseus had heard of witches and sorceresses from his father, Laertes, who had joined Jason on his adventures. From what Odysseus knew, witches and sorceresses were fickle women. Though the sorceress that his father experiences with the sorceress he knew (Medea, if he recalled the name correctly) was actually rather nice. From what Odysseus was hearing about Circe, he doesn’t think he’d share the same experience as his father.

“They began to squeal! And grow snouts and tails,” Eurylochus described, using his hands to convey the change he saw. “She changed them!” He exclaimed, distress evident in his tone and expression. That same distress spread to everyone else, including Odysseus himself. “They transformed, and it wasn’t quick. She turned our men from men to pigs!”

Silence spread through the air as everyone processed the information Eurylochus had told them, and finally, Odysseus spoke up, his mind having been made up since the beginning. “We have to go save them.” He stood up from his position sitting on a rock nearby from when Eurylochus started telling the little “story”. He got ready to move out, when his right-hand-man suddenly held onto his arm to stop him, “No, we don’t!”

Odysseus, and a few of the men listening in, looked at Eurylochus like he was crazy. And, to them, Eurylochus did sound crazy. Was he just telling them to abandon the others? Just like that? Looking at the mortified and confused stares from the others, Eurylochus gestured at everyone, “Look at all we’ve lost and all we’ve learned. Every single cost is so much more than what we’ve earned.” He stepped closer to Odysseus, a genuinely worried expression on his face as he held the king by the shoulders, “Think about the men we have left before there’s none. Let’s just cut our losses, you all and I, and let’s run.”

Odysseus furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gently taking off Eurylochus’s hands from his shoulders, “Of course I’d like to leave now, of course I’d like to run. But I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we’ve done,” he said slowly, his expression darkening as he remembered the screams, the cries, the cracks, the faces of horror, fear, and hopelessness on each of his men’s faces as they died, while they all called for him, for his help, for his plan. He looked at Eurylochus resolutely, staying by his decision, “There’s no length I wouldn’t go, if it was you I had to save.” He turned to the listening crew members, a small smile on his face, “I can only hope you’d do the same.”

These forty-three men, more important to Odysseus than his life itself, are the ones he had to keep safe. If need be, he’d gladly give up his life for them. He’s their captain, after all; what sort of captain is the last one alive of his own crew? What sort of captain would prioritize himself over his friends?

He will make sure they get home, all forty-four of them.

______________________________

“Captain!” A voice, no, multiple voices called out. Odysseus couldn’t hide his flinch when he heard those calls the moment he and his single ship entered the Underworld. The sound of chains clinking, of shades wailing and moaning in despair, penetrated the air, creating an almost grating sound to Odysseus’s ears. The atmosphere didn’t help at all with his fear, with his anxiety that something would go wrong. “Captain!” The voices called out again, and Odysseus turned to look at his men, to see who called for him. He went through a quick mental checklist of everyone there, all forty-three of them, including Odysseus, were there and present. No one seemed to have been calling him, and most of them were looking upwards for some reason. 

“Captain!!” More people called out, and Odysseus’s heart stopped for a few moments when he followed the gaze upwards. The shades of the men that died from his crew reached down at them, as though threatening to pull them to their side of the living. “Captain!! Captain!! Captain!!” The shades called out to him– no, they chanted out to him. As if the fates knew he wanted nothing to do with that damned title, and wished to play a “funny game” with him. It wasn’t funny. Not at all. 

Not when flashes of death, screaming, and agony flashed through Odysseus’s mind with every cry for ‘Captain’. Not when Odysseus could feel the bile coming back up his throat from his stomach at just the sound of the word alone. Not when Odysseus saw his hands stained red once again, stained with the blood of too many people that should not have died. Not when Odysseus felt the weight of what felt like his whole world fall onto his shoulders, a burden heavier than Atlas’s, a burden Odysseus was no longer sure he even wanted to carry anymore. Not when each syllable of the word made Odysseus feel as though he were back in Polyphemus’s cave, back on the sea confronted by Poseidon, back on Circe’s island, on the brink of losing three friends, and then having lost one. 

“558 men who died under your command!” All five hundred and fifty-eight men shouted at him, calling out for him over and over and over again. At this point, Odysseus found it too hard to breathe, to see clearly, to even hear the words properly. His hands shook at his sides and he felt the odd urge to scratch at his skin again. The feeling of the sticky blood never quite washed off, no matter how hard and rough Odysseus would scrub and scratch at his skin, until there were scratches and red marks on his skin, the numb feeling of slight burning at the strain on his body. 

“How could you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy-” Odysseus snapped out of his trance when he felt a small tug at his chiton, and he immediately looked down to see Perimedes, still dutifully rowing the boat, looking up at him with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?” he mouthed quietly, checking in on the king, who took a deep breath and summoned as much courage he could find to nod his head. Odysseus gave Perimedes a small smile, though it looked more like a grimace, “Thank you”, he mouthed back to the soldier, who only nodded with a reassuring smile. 

Odysseus took yet another deep breath, though his heart refused to slow down, and tried his best to ignore the shades above. He kept his eyes trained forward, not daring to look up anymore. If he dared to look up and heed the souls that screamed for him, called out to him, betrayal and anger and despair clear in their voices, Odysseus wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t end up becoming one with the realm of Hades, just as all the other shades here. 

He let his mind wander, anything to avoid having to listen to the desperate cries of his dead comrades. He heard the wailing of children distantly, crying for their mothers and fathers, crying for the warmth of an embrace. The sound reminded him of the infant son of Hector, prince of Troy. That same infant son Odysseus had dropped off a cliff, the same infant that was the root of all Odysseus’s guilt. Even with Zeus’s urging to kill the boy, Odysseus still doubted his decision to this day. Could there truly not have been another way? Was the only way to keep those he loved safe was to rid an innocent child of its life for something it could have never controlled? In another world, would Hector, or another warrior, have done the same to Telemachus? Gods, Odysseus can’t stand the thought of his son hurt because of him. He’s only known the boy for a few months, a little more than a year even, before he had to leave for war, yet he already owed the boy the whole world for missing more than a decade of his life. 

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” a voice, light and soft, spoke those familiar words that made Odysseus’s heart stop. He didn’t have to look to see who was speaking. He could recognize that voice with his eyes closed anywhere and anytime. “Polites…” he breathed out the name, and Odysseus sent a prayer to Hades to have mercy on his best friend, to let Polites and everyone else enter the afterlife. 

He wanted to turn around, but every voice inside him screamed NO! How could he face him now? It’s been months since Polites… oh. That’s right… he hadn’t given him a proper burial. Odysseus hadn’t given anyone a proper burial, aside from Elpenor, who had fallen to his death just before they left to the Underworld. Perhaps that was the reason why so many souls of those Odysseus had lost were here. They couldn’t pay Charon to bring them down to the judging of souls. That fact weighed down on Odysseus even more. What kind of captain was he, to not even be able to give an honorable burial to those who deserved it?

Odysseus didn’t have to make a decision whether or not to turn around to face Polites, though, since the shade simply floated about and ended up in front of Odysseus. As if the shade could tell Odysseus was there, it turned around and Odysseus felt his heart twist and churn in his chest at what he saw. Polites’s soul, bright as the light he was to Odysseus’s life, held a familiar baby in his arms. The baby from Troy. Tears rushed to the corners of Odysseus’s eyes and he let out a shaky gasp. Polites only kept looking at the baby, smiling gently as he cradled it. “Whatever we face, we’ll be fine if we’re leading from the heart,” Polites managed to hush the baby’s sobs rather easily, something Odysseus remembered having a hard time doing way back when. 

“No matter the place, we can light up the world. Here’s how to start,” The specter said gently, reminding Odysseus of how Polites was like back when they were just children together, playing around and having all sorts of adventures. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Greet the world with open arms,” Polites’s voice echoed throughout the Underworld and throughout Odysseus’s head. It haunted Odysseus, made him feel as if his tether to reality were a single string, just mere moments from snapping. Odysseus reached out, as if to grab his best friend, to hug him, to hold him in his arms, to speak to him, but the shade of Polites and the baby were blown away like wisps of the wind. “Polites,” he breathed out desperately, wanting to call out for his light, his guide through the darkness that was this entire journey. 

As the ship continued its way through the Underworld, Odysseus spotted something that looked akin to a dock of some sort. Tons and tons of shades were all lined up for the dock, gold in their hands, ready to offer to Charon when he returned. Odysseus knew better than to look through the faces of the shades, afraid he might find someone he recognized. So he looked away.

“Waiting…”

When yet another familiar voice reached his ears, Odysseus wished he had stayed away, looked away, went away. “That voice,” his eyes widened, and Odysseus knew his soul wouldn’t manage the trip out of the Underworld when they were done with the prophet. He can’t bear the weight of another life in his hands, the grief of finding out about the deaths of others in such a horrifying way. Yet his body acted on its own, as though it searched and yearned for more suffering to take on, “It can’t be…”

“Waiting…”

“Mom?” Odysseus choked out, his knees almost giving out under him. When the boat continued forward, he walked swiftly to the back of the boat, so that he could reach his mother. There she was, standing in line for Charon’s next journey through Styx, her hair the same style he’s always seen it in, her smile as sad as the day she found out he had to leave for war. Has her hair always been that white color? Has her body always been that thin and worn out? Has her gaze always been that distant and longing?

“Waiting… Odysseus, when you come home, I’ll be waiting,” Odysseus sucked in a sharp breath at those oh-so familiar words. Twelve years ago, maybe even thirteen years now, just before he left Ithaca for that war he never wanted to participate in. He really didn’t keep his promise when he told her he wouldn’t take long. His hands held tightly to the wood in front of him, flexing and unflexing, as though contemplating jumping off the boat and onto the river Styx that they sailed through. “Even if you’re the last thing I see, I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m right here, mom,” He called out, a hand reaching out to attempt to hug his mother. She was so close, so, so close to him. His hand only phased through her shade, and Odysseus tried again, desperate to hold his mother once more, “Can’t you see?” He failed the second time, yet still, the man tried a third time, yet once again his hand only passed through, as though he were trying to hold water. 

“I took too long…” The tears finally fell from his eyes when he realized his efforts were naught but futile. His mother only continued her soulful lament, unaware of his presence right in front of her, “I’ll always love you.” Odysseus held back his sobs, praying that his men wouldn’t look back to see him like this, “And I ventured too far…” “I’ll stay in your heart.”

“While you were waiting, waiting, waiting…”

As Odysseus watched the slowly shrinking form of his mother, tears still streaming down his face, he couldn't help but wonder how many more people had he left behind without being able to give them a proper farewell. 

“Bye, mom,” Odysseus said, and he hated how he knew it would be the last time he’d even be able to say this.

______________________________

“Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!” the voices called out, yet Odysseus knew that there was no one actually calling for him. 

Even after they had left the Underworld, those words still echoed through his head. No matter how hard he truly tried to ignore and block it out, it somehow wormed its way into his mind, a reminder of his terrible deeds, of his indirect betrayal to his people. The prophecy foretold by Tiresias the prophet didn’t make things any better either. Some murderous man would be with his wife, there may be a betrayal, his palace covered in red, and the man who gets to go home… no longer him. Upon being faced with such a future full of doom, was it not the standard human reaction to find a way to prevent it?

Odysseus forced himself to ignore the small voice in his mind, the one that told him that there was no way a prophecy could be broken. Many tales have been told about people attempting to do so, yet they’ve all but failed. Yet Odysseus can’t help but try. Now that he’s seen the error or his ways, the truth of it all, the truth that so many of his crewmates and others have tried to tell him. 

“Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.”

So, if Odysseus became the monster he saw his foes as, if he truly put himself and his team in the highest priority rather than mercy, then perhaps they would all finally make it home. They had to do everything they could to survive. For Penelope. For Telemachus. For Ctimene, Eumaeus, Argos, and his father. For his people in Ithaca.

The ship slowly sailed towards the lair of Scylla. Odysseus learned from the sirens that the only way to get past the god of the seas would be to sail through where even Poseidon didn’t dare pass. This was their only way home. “Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!!” the voices shouted once again, and the thought that he could at least bring the memory of those he lost with him on the way home consoled him by the tiniest margin.

In the midst of reflecting upon the wails and groans that stayed in his mind, he just barely realized Eurylochus had approached him from behind. “You’re quiet today,” he spoke softly, cutting through the air of silence that had covered the crew after what had transpired with the sirens. Not that Odysseus particularly knew why they had all stared at him strangely and checked in with him a little more often than before. In fact, after he ordered the sirens’ deaths, he can’t help but feel a small bit of his weight lifting from his chest. While he never wanted to have to kill someone again, there was that small sense of morbid satisfaction as he managed to get through an obstacle without someone from his side getting killed or murdered or compromised.

“Not much to say,” Odysseus shrugged noncommittally. There truly wasn’t much to say. He knew the cost of going through Scylla’s lair. But was he ready to pay the price?

A few beats of even more silence later, Eurylochus spoke up again, addressing the whole crew, including Odysseus, “I’ve got a secret I can no longer keep..” That made most of them perk up, and they turned a bit to the right-hand-man, to hear what he was saying. Odysseus, too, turned around from where he was watching the waters and looked at his brother-in-law.

Eurylochus took a deep breath and came out with it, “I opened the wind bag while you were asleep.”

And Odysseus’s entire world fell apart. His eyes widened, and he even heard some crew members let out a small gasp at the reveal. It was Eurylochus this whole time? The man Odysseus trusted the most? He was the reason why they were all here about to risk their lives and not in Ithaca right now. They were so close to home.

Eurylochus knew that too, for the next thing he said was an apology, “I’m so sorry.”

He let out a shaky breath and swallowed down his words. Odysseus turned around, he couldn’t bear looking at his brother-in-law now. In all honesty, Odysseus had been content not knowing the traitor who had opened the wind bag; there was no point in shifting blame and suspicion, not anymore. Plus, they had been confronted by Poseidon not even a moment after the storm was unleashed once again. There were too many things to think about, too many things to worry about, too many people to mourn for, too little people to account for. 

His mind raced with thoughts, most of which were now regarding his brother-in-law’s indiscretion a few weeks, maybe a month or two, ago. Eurylochus gently held onto Odysseus’s arm, trying to get his attention despite the man looking out to the sea, “Forgive me.” He pleaded and begged the king to give some sort of reaction, other than mere shock and then despondence. But Odysseus couldn’t find the words to reply. He couldn’t think of what to say.

Slowly, the crew went back to their own duties, rowing the ship towards the path that Odysseus had charted for them earlier. Full speed ahead, they’d tell themselves as they rowed and rowed and rowed. 

As they slowly neared the lair of Scylla, Odysseus turned to Eurylochus, his expression trained and unreadable. “Eurylochus, light up six torches,” he gave his command. This time, Eurylochus didn’t question him, nor did he say anything further; the right-hand only went to gather some torches to light, handing them to some men who weren’t doing much work at the moment. Eurylochus didn’t know what was in Odysseus’s mind, nor did Odysseus know what was in Eurylochus’s; he wasn’t sure, at least. How could he be sure now? When he was just about sure that Eurylochus wouldn’t have betrayed him until mere moments ago.

Everyone sailed inside the lair in silence, the stench of dead bodies, blood, and guts permeating the air. Yet Odysseus found himself not as averted to it as he remembered being; he’d gotten used to it, the smell of death. 

“Captain!” Odysseus snapped back to reality as Eurylochus called out to him. Almost like clockwork now, Odysseus made a mental headcount; everyone was here and accounted for. Well, all forty-three of them, including Odysseus. No one died, Odysseus comforted himself with the thought. He turned back his attention to Eurylochus, who was facing elsewhere, trying to use his torch to see something clearly. “Something approaches,” he said, though he didn’t sound too sure. Odysseus didn’t feel as confused as his comrades did, however, and only walked to a shadier part of the boat, not quite as illuminated by the torches. 

“Hello.” A throaty, raspy voice spoke from where Eurylochus was facing. There it stood. A woman. Her upper torso being the only thing seen in the dark cavern of the lair, protecting her dignity, as if she were a mere maiden taking her time in the murky waters. Her long hair cascaded down her body, floating by the tips where it hits the water. Her bones could be seen from how thin and malnourished she appeared, and her smile split her face into two parts. It was her eyes that made Odysseus sure of who she was, sunken and the darkening color of her sclera. She looked like a monster, indeed. Yet Odysseus knew this wasn't a monster he'd have to entertain for too long. 

The waters around them shook, crashing waves moving the ship side to side just slightly, and Odysseus's breath hitched for a moment. Quickly, he shook his head to calm himself, digging his nails into the skin of his palm to ground himself back. Poseidon wasn't here. He wouldn't dare follow them here. Not here, where the monsters aren't picky with the flesh and blood they eat. 

Slowly, a large head emerged from the water, like a snake ready to strike its prey. Next, another head followed, and then another. Six serpentine heads came up from the water, drool dripping down some of their mouths as they gazed at the sailors. The woman looked at the six illuminated areas of the ship, six people holding the torches, and she smiled. 

Odysseus saw the smile and he immediately became guarded. He linked further into the darkness of the ship, and took a deep breath. “Row for your lives!!” He shouted, prepared to face the storm this would be. The soldiers obeyed the command, as they always did, and rowed as fast as they could. If they could have seen Odysseus, they'd have seen the king looking out to the horizon, looking away from the carnage that he knew was about to transpire.

No matter how fast the sailors rowed, Scylla easily followed. The narrow passageway of her lair made it hard for ships as big as this one to pass through, and she certainly wasn't going to let her first meal of a couple hundred years pass through so easily. “Drown in your sorrow and fears!” She sang, her voice growling as one of her serpent heads scoops up one of the men in its mouth. 

“Choke on your blood and your tears,” She continued to sing, but Odysseus didn't give her the time of day. He filled his ears with beeswax once again, just like he had with the sirens. He turned his back to the bloodbath he knew was going on behind him. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tight. He won't hear anything. Not until it was over. He refused to heed the screams of his men, calling out for him, “Captain! Captain!!” 

“Captain! Captain! Captain!” The voices in his mind were determined to remind him of what he was doing. The beeswax in his ears did nothing to silence the screams of the Underworld that resonated within him still. He was supposed to be their captain. He was their captain. This was just a small sacrifice he had to take. He'll get home. He'll bring the memory of everyone he's lost home. That's compensation. Right? Right? 

“Bleed till you run out of years! We must do what it takes to survive,” the monster sang, a sadistic glint in her smile as she felt the soldiers’ fear, confusion, and adrenaline. One more sailor got eaten, and the three torches that were illuminating the ship fell to the water or to the ground of the ship. The light got dimmer and dimmer. The darker everything got, the louder the screams in Odysseus’s mind, “Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!” His heart started beating faster, his head started screaming at him even more, “Captain! Captain!” 

“Give up your honor and faith,” Scylla growled slightly, one of the heads roaring as it lunged for another sailor. Eurylochus immediately gave the torch he was holding to another man, and ran to try to save the one the head was targeting. He failed. Blood splattered straight to the right-hand-man, and Eurylochus froze in place as he witnessed the body of his comrade become bitten into. The guts and entrails spilled all over the place, and the serpent head had to come back a second time to take the leftovers. “Live out your life as a wraith!!” Another sailor was swept up, and Eurylochus finally realized something when he saw the dimming light of the torches. Having started to notice the pattern, the man quickly turned around to save the last one holding the torch.

“Die in the blood where you bathe,” The man holding Eurylochus’s torch watches in confusion as he ran toward the light source, but Eurylochus was too late. The ship fell to darkness, Eurylochus standing in the middle of a bloodstained ship, 37 other sailors left on the ship. Odysseus, noticing the lack of turbulence over the waters, opened his eyes and discreetly took off the wax in his ears. He turned around, watching the serpent heads retreat back into the water, hunger sated. The king walked across the ship, keeping his head looking straight forward, striding past Eurylochus, who only stared at his captain in incredulity and horror. “We must do what it takes to survive.”

Odysseus stopped by the front of the ship, looking out to the end of the cave they rowed toward. Eurylochus only stood there, and looked at the other soldiers, as if asking them if they noticed what he noticed. The looks and gestures he got in return affirmed his suspicions, even though he hated what he found out when he realized the truth. 

Scylla stared at the ship leaving her lair with a sly smile, “We are the same, you and I.” Odysseus’s breath hitched when he heard the last part of her song. He cursed in his head, knowing full well that the monster was talking about him. “We are the same, you and I,” The sole lyric echoed in his head, and his breath hitched in his throat at the implications. He was a monster. He's become the monster he had to be. 

Odysseus wasn’t sure if he should take it as a good or bad thing. 

______________________________

“Captain!! Captain!!” 

“How could you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy-”

Odysseus's thoughts were interrupted by Eurylochus stomping over, footsteps heavy with anger. “Tell me you did not know that would happen,” Eurylochus demanded, his face contorted into an almost constipated expression. “Say you didn't know how that would end.” 

When Odysseus didn't give a response, Eurylochus grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to turn around. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, captain.” He flinched. He counted the people on the ship, thirty men rowing, five other men cleaning up and mourning, and then there’s him and Eurylochus. Thirty-seven of them out of the forty-three of them before they entered Scylla’s territory. “That you did not just sacrifice six men!” Eurylochus yelled, fury flashing through his expression. 

“Use your wits and try to say I'm crazy and mad!” Eurylochus tried to beg his captain, “That this is all some trick the god's have sent!” Anything, just anything that meant that Odysseus hadn't lost his kind from homesickness. “Tell me you did not miss home so painfully bad,” He paused, his expression turning to anger once again when he realized Odysseus wasn't saying a thing to defend himself. “That you gave up the lives of six of our friends!” Eurylochus’s voice cracked, the sight of even more of his friends and teammates being killed once again too jarring for him now.

“Think about the men we have left, before they’re none,” He thought back to Eurylochus’s words, and Odysseus couldn’t help but feel confused. Was this not what Eurylochus was so prepared to do not even a month or two (or three, time has eluded Odysseus’s mind) ago in Circe’s island? Why was the man mad at him now? His confusion must have been conveyed on his face, because Eurylochus grabbed a part of Odysseus’s chiton and yanked it upwards. “When we fought the cyclops, you were quick to hatch a plan!” The same plan that took so long, it gave the cyclops the opportunity to kill so many people, Odysseus retorted in his head. “And when we fought with Circe, it was you who left behind no man!” What about Elpenor, Odysseus added on. 

“Yet when we saw this monster, we didn't take a stand. We just ran!” Eurylochus scoffed, balling his hands into fists as he shook Odysseus by the top of his chiton. The king only looked to the side despondently. He didn't want to admit it. Eurylochus didn't like that, and he screamed in Odysseus's face, “SAY SOMETHING!” 

“I can't!” Odysseus finally spoke, looking back to his brother-in-law with an angry expression that mirrored the other's. 

When Eurylochus finally accepted that the man in front of him was no longer a man, but a monster, he managed to steel himself. He harshly let Odysseus back to the ground, and grabbed the hilt of his greatsword, prepared for battle. “Then you have forced my hand.” Odysseus had gone too far. He crossed the line he had been standing on for the past few years.

He hadn't noticed that the ship stopped moving, the soldiers moving from where they were to surround the two commanders. He was too focused on his brother-in-law raising his weapon against him, and the pang of hurt and betrayal that shot through him. “Lower your weapon,” he ordered, but Eurylochus only shook his head, “No can do.” 

“You miss your wife so bad, you'd trade the lives of your own crew!” Eurylochus accused, still unable to believe what his own friend had done. “Don't make me fight you, brother,” Odysseus replied sharply, a hand moving to his own sword and he went down to a defensive position, “You know you'd have done the same!” Otherwise, why had Eurylochus been so ready to abandon Elpenor, Perimedes, and Georgios as pigs under Circe's mercy? 

But Eurylochus didn't even flinch at the blame being shifted to him, “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!” Because what sort of leader wouldn't carry the blame of his men on his shoulders? What sort of captain would leave his friends and comrades to die? What sort of captain would turn his back to the suffering of his people? 

Odysseus was no captain, Eurylochus accepted that fact as he swung his blade at his friend, his king, his brother. The soldiers watched in worry, anger, and apprehension as the rope that held everyone together and loyal to the other snapped. Murmurs arose amongst them and most, if not all, found themselves feeling how Eurylochus did. Betrayed. 

Where did their captain go? Where did their king go? Where did Odysseus go?

“Captain, please stop this,” one of them called out, but Odysseus ignored it as he blocked a hit from Eurylochus’s weapon. He couldn't hear it among the screams in his head calling out for him already, “Captain! Captain! Captain!” He had to get home. He just had to get home now. 

Ithaca's waiting. His kingdom was waiting. Penelope was waiting for him. 

“Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.”

Odysseus swept Eurylochus off his feet with a low kick to his ankles, and he raised his sword high. He had no need for a second-in-command who questioned him at every turn. He had no need for a brother-in-law who wasn't even dedicated to getting home. 

Odysseus's job wasn't to make sure any of them were happy. His job was simply to make sure they got home. Alive or as a memory, he didn't care at this point. 

“I am not letting you get in my way!!” Odysseus screamed as he lowered the sword down to Eurylochus, only for a dagger to suddenly stab through his stomach. He choked on his saliva, blood rushing up to leave his mouth as crimson dripped down the dagger slowly, staining the wood of the ship red. He let out a wet gasp, frozen where he stood. 

Slowly, he turned around, and saw Perimedes looking at him in anger and pain, as though Perimedes felt hurt simply having to stab his friend, but there was determination and anger in his face too. Behind Perimedes stood all the other sailors, Odysseus counted all thirty-four other angry faces full of betrayal. Betrayal Odysseus himself felt deep down as well, for the others, for Eurylochus, for himself. Behind the sailors, Odysseus saw the souls of the other five-hundred and fifty-eight men he saw in the Underworld, staring at him, screaming at him. “Captain! Captain! Captain!”

“My brothers,” he strained to speak, his eyes filling up with tears slowly. “Why?”

Perimedes kept the dagger in, and the soldiers spoke, “How are we supposed to trust you now?” From the corner of his eyes, Odysseus saw Eurylochus slowly standing up and joining the others, “Now, your time has come, your luck’s run out.” “How much longer till your luck runs out?” Odysseus remembered Eurylochus’s words previously, back when he was about to talk to Aeolus. He supposed that the seeds of doubt had sprouted and taken root faster than he could pull them out. That was the start of his chain of misfortune, the start of the incessant pattern of failure and betrayal. “I see portrayals of betrayal,” the prophet told him earlier, and Odysseus realized that there was no point in trying to avoid that prophecy. From back then with the wind bag and right now.

“Now, the time has come to shut you down,” Eurylochus and the rest said together, their faces speaking volumes of their disapproval of how their king had been acting. With how angry, betrayed, and simply exhausted his crew seemed, Odysseus couldn’t help but feel disapproval for himself too. “You relied on wit, and then we died on it.”

He couldn’t have been in the wrong could he? Not again. Not after he decided to try and change to be the right leader for his crew. “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves,” he tried to convince himself, again. But he found himself doubting it once again. “Greet the world with open arms” was not a good way to live, and it would only cause suffering everywhere.

But this is what ruthlessness brought Odysseus, he realized. “Captain! Captain! Captain!!” the voices of his crew screamed once again. Odysseus’s mind was filled with their faces, begging for mercy, as they were drowned, smashed, and killed. At the time, Odysseus thought Polites was right; he wasn’t. Then, after Tiresias’s prophecy, he begrudgingly started to believe that Poseidon was right; he supposed he wasn’t either. 

So then who was? Who was right? How did Odysseus have to change, now that he’s realized his wrongs on all accounts? Looking at the faces of his men, the ones alive, and thinking back to those that died, Odysseus felt the urge to apologize. To say the single word all of them knew wouldn’t fix anything, the word that would at the very least let Odysseus have a better chance of redeeming himself. Of being the king he’s supposed to be.

… Gods, how much had Ithaca changed, within twelve to thirteen years? How much had Penelope changed? Telemachus?

Odysseus’s mouth opened, blood dripping from the side, as he steeled his nerves to finally hold back and swallow his pride. But before he could get a word in, Perimedes cut him off, “I’m sorry, captain.”

And he pulled out the dagger harshly. Odysseus felt a blunt force that felt like the handle of a spear hit the back of his head and he fell down, dizzy. Black spots littered across his vision as Odysseus distantly heard his men scurrying off somewhere, someone taking him up in their arms carefully. 

He blacked out.

______________________________

Odysseus woke up to the sound of cows mooing and the rustling of the grass. Wait, grass? There wasn’t any grass on his ship. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself tied with rope, leaned against some type of flat stone. His stomach wound was cleanly wrapped, and he could slightly feel the small sting of some ointment around the slowly healing stab.

His eyes squinted at the bright sun that hit him, and it took him a few moments to compose himself. His head pounded, throbbing like he was about to have a migraine. “Agh, my head,” he winced, his voice raspy from likely not having spoken in a while. A cow’s moo echoed through the area, and Odysseus frowned a bit; the noise did nothing to help his headache. He realized that he was on some kind of hill, overlooking a whole bunch of cows. There were more cows than Odysseus could even count, and much more cows here than there had been sheep in Polyphemus’s cave. 

“Where are we?” He asked the question to no one in particular. Odysseus hadn’t expected a response until Eurylochus spoke, just a few feet away, “Some island.” Eurylochus didn’t even look at the man tied up, his distant gaze focused solely on the cows, as if he were entranced at the sight of the lean meat, “The first one we found. It’s bursting with cows just roaming around, and begging us to eat.”

Odysseus watched as Eurylochus licked his lips, swallowing thickly as he watched the cows, “So much meat, and hunger is so heavy…” With another deep breath to hold in the urge to simply eat the cows raw, Eurylochus turned to something behind Odysseus, looking up, “This statue,” he spoke, and Odysseus tried to turn around to take a look, but winced when he felt his wound ache at the pressure from the ropes. He had to rely on whatever Eurylochus was saying for more information.

“The god of the Sun,” Which god of the sun, Odysseus wanted to ask so very badly. Yet he also knew that both sun gods were rather protective of their cattle, and had all the means necessary to issue a punishment should these cattle be harmed. Both Helios and Apollo were also rather demanding gods when angered, and Odysseus knew that if they made even one wrong move, they’d be done for. “Don’t know where it’s from,” Odysseus had to hold back the urge to try to shake Eurylochus out of whatever trance he’s in; what do you mean Eurylochus didn’t think to figure out which sun god this was, and where exactly they are? He never remembered Eurylochus being this negligent. “But here’s where we found all these cows to hunt, right in front.” “And hunger is so heavy,” Eurylochus repeated, the rest of the crew groaning about their hunger just behind him too, that same distant haze over their eyes. That was when Odysseus knew he had to do something. He angled his body so that the ropes that tied him to the statue’s pedestal, so that the sharp edges would give enough friction to slowly fray the ropes. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do..” He pleaded with his friend, not exactly in the mood to raise his voice anymore. 

Eurylochus finally turned to his brother-in-law, sadness and hopelessness peeking from behind the haze that seemed to cover everyone’s eyes, “Ody, we’re never gonna get to make it home.” He spoke bluntly, tired from the long journey they’ve gone through to this point. “You know it’s true,” Odysseus’s stomach knotted into itself at the other man’s words. He shook his head, desperation gleaming in his eyes as he looked at Eurylochus’s resigned face, “You don’t know it’s true.”

It can’t be true. Odysseus could think of a way to get back home, now that he had a pretty vague idea of where he was. And even if he didn’t, he’s the Odysseus of Ithaca, the “man of many ways”, as many bards and singers have written songs and hymns of praise to him and his wits. He had to think of a way back home. He can’t handle another day, another hour, another second without his wife. But first, he had to find a way to convince his men not to do anything stupid, “This is the home of the sun god!”

“I’m starving, my friend,” Odysseus ignored the small feeling of relief when he found that Eurylochus still viewed him as a friend, and continued to try wearing down his friend’s temptation, “But if you kill his cattle, who knows what he’ll send? This is the home of the sun god!” Odysseus moved his body discreetly, making sure not to strain his injury while also doing his best to cut away the ropes that bound him to the statue. 

“I’m tired, my friend!” Eurylochus’s stomach growled audibly, and Odysseus let out a small wince as his own stomach growled as well, of hunger and pain. He rubbed the rope against the side of the pedestal harder, trying as hard as he could to escape his bindings. Meanwhile, he had to do everything he could to convince everyone else, “But we’re so close to home, this can’t be where it ends..” In reality, Odysseus wasn’t very sure how far or close they really were from home. He’s half-sure that they’ve gone beyond uncharted waters and lands, but he’s not quite sure how far he had to go.

Eurylochus only shook his head as he started to slowly and carefully walk to one of the cows nearby, “How much longer must I suffer now? How much longer must I push through doubt?” He slowly stalked toward the innocent cow, his movements that of a precise hunter, and Odysseus hastened what he was doing to try cutting off the rope. The cord started to slowly fray, each small strand getting cut off in a painfully slow manner, but progress is progress, Odysseus supposed. “Please don’t do this… I need to get home!”

“How much longer must I go about my life like this, when people die like this?” The starving man took another step to the unassuming cow. Odysseus snuck a glance to check on his progress with the ropes. He's almost there. Almost there. “Eurylochus…” He couldn't even think of anything to say anymore. After all, he knew how stubborn his right-hand was. And from the strange haze-like veil over everyone's eyes, simply at the sight of the fattened and well-taken care of cattle, no one would listen to reason. 

The other crewmates walked over too, stalking closer and closer to the resting cow. Just like Eurylochus, everyone else had a similar eerie desperation. Odysseus, realizing that something was wrong with his men, shouted and pleaded. “Reconsider! We can get home!!”

In a last-ditch attempt to get his men back into their right minds while trying to get himself out, Odysseus turned to his right-hand man. “Eurylochus,” he pleaded, praying to the gods that Eurylochus would at the very least hear him out. Yet the only response Odysseus received was the taller man reaching for the greatsword strapped to his back, raising it high in the air. “I'm just a man,” Eurylochus spoke, his stomach growling even louder as he swung down his blade. 

“Eurylochus, NO!-” Odysseus finally cut himself free from his bounds, and stood up. He reached his hand out to Eurylochus, but he was too late.

A startled moo bellowed across the island. Blood dripped down the large blade, reflecting the light of the sun shining down on them. The reflected light was blinding, oddly; red blood wouldn't reflect that bright a light-

Gold.

Odysseus felt his heart stop. The blood was gold. The cow was bleeding gold. Ichor, essence of the divine. 

“You've doomed us,” Odysseus breathed, torn between forcing himself to keep breathing or just stop altogether. His mind ran multiple miles a minute, and he finally managed to get a glimpse of the sun god’s statue he was tied to. Helios, the Sun Incarnate. “You’ve doomed us all, Eurylochus!” He screamed, his voice cracking when the true consequences of likely angering the Helios, titan personification of the sun, crashing down on him heavier than any he’s carried before.

As if his scream had finally pierced through their hunger-clouded minds, Eurylochus slowly turned around. The haze over his eyes disappeared, and all that was left was the look of someone crumbling in despair, lost in the labyrinth of confusion. “Captain?” The man sounded so disoriented, so confuddled at what he just did. 

“Captain! Captain! Captain!” “Captain?” Odysseus forced himself to shake off the uneasiness that washed over him at the sound of that word. Eurylochus needed him. They all needed him. These thirty-six men needed him right now. The king forced himself to suck in his panic and took charge. He firmly looked at all his men, who had now snapped out of whatever trance they were in. Thirty-six, he counted, including Eurylochus. “We need to get away from this island now!”

He urged, moving to the single ship docked nearby, though his legs staggered when a pang of pain shot through his torso. Immediately, Eurylochus and Perimedes ran over and took to his sides to help him quickly. Everyone else followed, rushing to the boat and getting the ship ready to leave. “Grab an oar with all the strength your arms allow,” He ordered, raising his voice as loud as he could in his injured state. They finally got to the ship, and the men by his sides left to obey the orders, doing their usual sailing duties.

“These cows were immortal, they were the Sun god’s friends,” He explained, looking directly to his right-hand-man to explain. Odysseus didn’t want a second repeat of what happened however long ago it was; with the wind bag, with Scylla, it was time to be more transparent with himself to others, he realized. “And now that we’ve pissed them off,” He added, turning to look at the herd of cattle that ran around the island in hysteria, “Who do you think he’ll send?!”

Every single one of the thirty-seven men in the ship were slowly falling apart in their panicking, hurriedly calling out to each other, “Full speed ahead! Full speed ahead!” The large oars rowed and rowed as fast as all of the hunger-panged sailors could, but Odysseus’s eyebrows furrowed in alarm when he noticed the marble statue of Helios slowly move its head in their direction.

“Faster!” He ordered, stomping on the wooden floor of the messy ship to emphasize his order. “Full speed ahead,” everyone chanted uncoordinatedly. “Faster!!” He pushed, shouting as loud as he could. “Full speed ahead!”

A blast of thunder reverberated across the sea, and upon seeing the clear skies slowly being covered in stark white clouds, Odysseus knew one thing. There was no escape now.

[mccnstruck]

the dreams you let me follow.

characters: kazuha x gn!reader

tags: hurt/comfort, reverse comfort but also comfort both of you guys are a mess, not proofread, 2k+ words, long fic, gender neutral, no pronouns besides "you" for reader, self-indulgent, op is possessed by kazuha brainrot, could be seen in the same storyline as “never alone”, mentions of mental breakdowns, implied emotional abuse?, very ooc i don't know man

a/n: i know i posted like a few days ago but as today comes to an end i literally couldn't let myself go to bed without making something for kazuha. happy birthday kazuhaalkdlwklkaw AHHDHDHHAH ok. but anyways the ending was HORRENDOUS but if i carried it on any longer i would never finish this. reblogs and tags are much appreciated. oh and also you and kazuha both have abandonment issues LMFAOOAOOAOA

You looked beyond the windows of your Mondstadt home and onto the rain that poured on Monstadt City. The sun hid behind grey clouds, whose sobs embodied the roaring thunder. Its tears fell onto Mondstadt soil, and you saw people quickly run back home to the warmth of their homes. You turned on the lamp beside your bed and took a journal out of the bookshelf next to your bed. Your fingers felt the embroidery on the book’s spine and grazed over the writing on the cover. The red ink on the front read: “To Kadehara Kazuha.”

You opened the journal and grazed over your handwriting. Pages upon pages of messy handwriting took you back to the days when you first settled in Mondstadt.  

You remembered the night before you set your travels for Mondstadt. You entered your cabin (for quite possibly, the last time in a long time) and saw him writing in his journal. Crimson eyes looked up at you and Kazuha smiled. The moonlight barely shone inside the cabin, but even you could make out the tears that slid down his face.

Your heart shattered when you heard his voice. “Hello, dear.” 

“Kazuha, what happened?” 

You rushed to his side and sat on the bed. You brought your hand to cradle his face and gently slid your thumb over the tear stains on his face. 

You whispered, sadness lacing over your voice. “Kazuha…is it because of me?”

He sat in silence, and both you and him stared at the journal laid on his lap. 

“As a wanderer, I should know your situation best. It is not your fault, by all means. You should be allowed to embrace the love of Mondstadt City.”

“Kazuha-”

“Yet. Yet I keep trying. I keep…on trying…to cling on…” 

His tears fell onto the blanket and he hid his face from you; trying to wipe his tears away. 

Your breath hitched, and you felt your world crumble around you. 

Kazuha’s demeanor crumbled, and you pulled him into your arms. 

Seeing Kazuha’s usual smile taken from you….because of you. He said it wasn’t your fault, yet you felt the loneliness of Kazuha’s future travels. You felt the future lonely nights when you would have to stare out the window: wondering where your lover would share his love. 

But, you had to do this. 

You had to escape. And Kazuha knew. Both of you knew. 

Instead of comforting him with false lies you both knew to be meaningless; you instead made him promise one thing. 

“Kazuha. Keep on writing. Keep on writing and exploring the world.”

He looked at you and paused at your words. “Why wouldn’t I do that in the first place?” 

“Just…Just keep on writing. Never lose that spark. Do what you love, okay?”

You held out your hand to him and your pinky stuck out. The child in you, clinging to whatever promises you could believe in, desperately hoped for Kazuha to respond in kind. 

You softly smiled when he intertwined his pinky in yours. He promised, no matter what happened, to always follow the spark in his heart. 

At the thought of Kazuha, the journal in front of you became blurry. You looked up to find your home to be blurry as well. You were crying. Your tears fell as the gray clouds cried louder.

Archons, you wished to see him again. The unnerving fear of forgetting his face ate you alive every day, and you yearned to hear his voice once more. You were so busy laughing and working throughout the day that on nights when you only accompanied the thoughts in your head, you realized how long it had been. 

Would you even be able to show your face in front of him? You just…left Kazuha and went on your travels. 

No…you both knew. You had to leave Sumeru. You needed to build a home somewhere. 

Sumeru…

But why….why did you feel something for Sumeru? Your chest felt heavy, full of sin. Your happiness felt sinful, almost as if you needed to go back and plead for the Akademiya to take you back. 

Let them rip your designs to shreds, have them accept your crumpled academic papers with messy writing and dried tears. 

Mama, Papa.

They wouldn’t even let you acknowledge them. 

Did you mess up? Oh, you messed up. Did you? You could’ve lived with stability, with respect. You could’ve sacrificed your dreams, because everyone knows you’re just going to wake up anyways. Yet you lived your life sleepwalking, clinging to your dreams and ignoring reality. 

Was this what your parents wanted you to see? No. They could’ve supported your ambitions. They could’ve pushed society’s whispers and helped you build your wishes. 

Yet. They didn’t. 

You couldn’t even remember their faces. 

Mama. Papa. 

Mama. Papa. 

You couldn’t remember their faces. Yet their voices haunted your very being every day.

Mama. Papa. 

Mama. Papa. 

Mama. Papa. Mama. Papa. Mama, Papa, I’m so sorry Im so sorry im so soryryr mim sodttyt iams oso soryryruh please pforgive me PLEASE

Your thoughts were corrupted of pure hatred and that night, the beloved engineer of Mondstadt was left to rot in the hell of loneliness and insecurity. 

No one was to go through the rain to find you crying, so you could’ve screamed at the walls in your home and still would’ve gotten no response. Yet, knowing how alone you were, you quietly trembled and wrapped yourself in your arms. Your journal laid at your side, and the hopes of seeing your beloved turned into desperate cries to not be alone. The dried tears on the page said it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying. Your chest felt the same heaviness, but your tears had stopped. You didn’t have the energy to wipe them off. You shifted on your bed to turn the lamp off when…

A thud shook your house, followed by a knock. 

You would’ve excused the thud to be the thunder, but a knock? Who was to be at your home in the rain?

“Give me a minute!”

You felt extremely bad to delay some warmth to the person outside, but your face was completely unrepresentable. You rushed to the bathroom to wipe your tears off and disregarded the other visible signs you were crying. You pulled out a scarf to offer and rushed to the door. 

When you opened the door, your eyes widened at the white hair with a crimson streak running through it. Crimson eyes looked back at you with glee, and the figure grinned at your shock. 

“Hello, dear.”

“You’re lying. You’re lying. No, I’m dreaming. This is a joke-”

In your state of denial, he pulled your hand towards him and wrapped his arms around you. He hid you in his embrace, and not even the pouring rain could separate you from him. 

Kazuha whispered, “It’s been so long…so…” He paused, his shoulders shaking, before he continued. “I wanted to see you. I’ve missed you.”

You gritted your teeth to hold back your sobs, yet the tears started again when you enclosed Kazuha in your arms. 

Your voice shook, and your chest gasped for air. “Archons, I missed you. So much.”

Even with your warmth, Kazuha shivered from the cold winds. You led him inside and let him warm up by the fireplace while you prepared something to eat. 

Kazuha noticed the tissues stacked up on your bed and your attempts to hide your journal in the bookshelf. 

“Dear?”

Your head turned rapidly toward him and you put on a fake grin. Your tears were wiped off, yet your eyes looked pained; as if they were about to close with agony. “What’s up?”

“I…Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I’m ok. Why? Need anything?”

Kazuha worriedly smiled. “You seemed tense. And when you opened the door, your face looked pained. Desperate.”

You paused at Kazuha’s words and almost whirled back into your thoughts. You never understood how Kazuha could see past you, but it was an admirable skill, yet it made you very vulnerable. 

You regain your voice and shakily respond. “Hm. I’m just.. stressed. Don’t worry, it's a usual thing. Don’t worry yourself about it. Can’t have your pretty little head anxious over me.”

Your flirtatious remarks would’ve gotten to him, had your voice been more steady and confident. 

Kazuha, to your relief, let you drop the topic. Yet you knew he wasn’t going to let you go without talking. 

He pulled out a journal from his bag and laid it on his lap. The journal was colored red with designs that originated from Inazuma. He opened it to the very first page and began to speak. 

“That night before you left the Crux, I wrote in a new journal I had gotten. Remember the shop we visited in Inazuma?”

You hummed, acknowledging the memory. 

“I awoke in the middle of the night and wrote my first entry. It was dedicated to you. Here,” he held the open journal and gestured for you to read it, “you can read it.”

You take the journal from Kazuha’s grasp and sit down in the seat next to his. 

“To My Engineer, 

You’re so far away in the land of dreams, that I’m afraid I cannot reach you even in the night. I had a nightmare, but I don’t want to bother you right now. You have a long day ahead of you.

My Engineer. I hope I get to see you again so that one day I can show you this journal and you can ask me why I called you ‘my engineer’ instead of ‘my dear’.”

You cheekily ask, “Why did you call me your engineer?” 

Kazuha chuckled and gestured for you to read further. 

“Ever since I met you, I was so enthralled with your dreams that I forgot that those dreams aren’t stuck in place. Yet I clung on. 

To the future engineer who sees this. I am so proud of you. Leaving home, knowing it doesn’t call for you, hurts. I am so proud of you. 

I miss you. Yet you lay next to me as of right now, sound asleep. I’ll miss you, so very much, my engineer. Yet I know your dreams will inspire little kids and make Mondstadt proud. That’s what I admire about you. Your dreams don’t stop with you, but grow to communities, and will grow around Teyvat, in time. No matter what anyone says, you deserve to follow your dreams. You shouldn’t have to be stuck in one place. You’ve taught me the same.

This journal is dedicated to you. When you told me to follow my spark, a part of me hoped my spark would lead me to you. 

My engineer, I hope you build your dreams and smile at your designs. I hope I can see you again. 

Your lover, 

K. Kazuha”

Your voice lost all of its stability when you whispered Kazuha’s name. You looked up with teary eyes to see Kazuha staring at the journal with a bittersweet smile. 

“Ever since you told me to never stop writing, and to follow my spark, I thought about Inazuma after so long. For so long, I refused to remember the decline of the clan. But, that night, I thought about the promise between my father and I. I…” 

He fell silent, yet his face remained the same. 

“You’ve shown me, indirectly, how dreams heal the soul. Dreams are such temporary illusions we indulge ourselves in, but it is also a future promise to ourselves. Humanity cannot stay forever in one place. If a wounded animal wants to escape from a trap, it has to sacrifice the hind leg that was caught. Staying in the trap has far more deadly consequences.”

You held Kazuha’s hand and slid your thumb over his skin. Kazuha finally looked at you and closed his eyes; letting the touch of your skin ground him to Teyvat. 

After a little while of shared silence, you let go of his hand and wiped your tears. You stood up and moved to your bookshelf, taking out the journal with the embroidery on the spine. 

Kazuha raised his eyebrows with curiosity as you sat back down. You laid out the journal in front of him and gave him a teary smile. 

“I wrote a journal dedicated to you too. I don’t think my dreams ever not consisted of you in them.”

He opened the journal to find pages upon pages of messy handwriting in front of him; all consisting of different dates, all to him. 

“I…Even though I couldn’t see you, I still felt your presence with me. So I kept a journal of my own.” 

Kazuha flipped through the journal and saw his name on every page he flipped through. Messy handwriting spelled out his name through times of sadness and times of joy. Your handwriting spelled out his name, Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha. Kazuha.

“Kazuha?”

He looked up at you and realized he was crying. 

“I…I don’t know why. I tried to ease my mind by thinking that you would be so caught up in your work. I just…you dedicated this to me…”

You stood from your seat and pulled Kazuha into your arms. He rested his head on your shoulder, and both of your journals laid next to each other. 

All of your problems, the guilt, the shame, it would never go truly away. But knowing Kazuha was here, whether with you or traveling the world, kept you chasing your dreams. You only hoped that he was here to see those dreams become reality. 

The thunderstorm of the night continuously roared throughout the lands, yet for a moment it calmed itself at the two lovers’ embrace, who couldn’t be bothered by the world’s burdens placed upon them. The thunderstorm paused its cries to listen to the quiet declarations between two lovers, before starting back up again and letting its tears merge with the Mondstadt soil. 

mccnstruck. do not plagiarize or repost.

taglist: @risekuni, @omori-1, @tearsasmascara, @yinyinggie

[introverted-and-unhinged]

Idea: I’m craving a new tattoo while in marauders brainrot and thinking about the hc I saw that James would have slutty antler tattoos. Inspo pics from Pinterest. Somehow it turned into this exchange between Sirius, James, and Regulus.

A/n: I have my own head cannons and a myriad of ways I think about and imagine the marauders era characters, ranging from classic and commonly accepted Jegulus/wolfstar tropes and ideas to super unpopular (seriously I think I’m the only one who feels this way) ideas. If you don’t like what you’re reading, stop and scroll on. I’m trying to get back into writing because I enjoy it, so if you don’t support that please just keep your fingers still. 🫶

Content: suggestive but not smutty, like one curse word, mentions of needles and piercing skin (I really hate making these lists, so don’t get used to this if I keep writing and posting.)

wc: 1239

*Barely proofread and written in like an hour.

James winced as the tattoo needle grazed across his right hip bone and made its way slowly up toward his lower abdomen.

“The second half of a symmetrical tattoo hurts more because we tend to amp ourselves up for the first side, making it easier to take,” Sirius says dabbing at the excess ink on James' warm, reddening skin.

“Then, you get a moment of relief before the artist – that's me,” Sirius pauses to throw a wink James’ way, “starts on the next side, and suddenly it feels way fucking worse.”

James nods slowly, looking down at the 8-inch long stag antler taking form on his right hip and stomach under Sirius’ hand movements. Sirius is being very meticulous about ensuring the right side matches the already outlined and detailed left side perfectly, and James has no choice but to watch the needle jump in and out of his own flesh, mesmerized. Somehow, watching the needle like this lessens the pain to a dull discomfort.

“I think part of it is the length of the session, too, Pads. My shoulder piece didn't take nearly this long. Might be some fatigue setting in.”

Sirius’ mumble of agreement was drowned out by his brother, Regulus, chiming in about how they had been there quite a while. After all, he'd had to listen to the two of them gossip for nearly three hours while finishing up with his last client of the day.

“What tattoo is James getting that was so important you had to come in on your day off when I was supposed to have the shop to myself, anyway?” Regulus adds.

“I'm glad you asked, actually,” Sirius retorts, taking a break from inking James' skin.

He turns off the tattoo machine and sets it down before patting at a slightly ticklish spot on James' abdomen with a damp paper towel, causing him to wiggle a bit.

“I'm finally getting my animagus tattoo,” James chirps with a shining grin. “Stag antlers that rise from my waistline up along my ab lines!”

“Because you just had the shop to yourself last week,” Sirius continues, ignoring James' explanation. “And he wouldn't have had to come in today if you didn't make him cancel his appointment last week for said ‘private booking’ or whatever,” Sirius quips with an eye roll.

In place of an explanation, Regulus steps toward Sirius’ tattoo station with his head cocked to the side and brow quirked. He peers over his brother’s shoulder to look at James as he’s lying along the black leather table. The older boy’s sweatpants are pulled dangerously low on his hips, the faint remnants of a summer tan present still despite it being early December.

Along both his hips and branching out across his abdomen to create a sort of pathway to his happy trail, sit a pair highly detailed antlers. The one on the right still to develop a couple more kinks and sprouts from Sirius’ needlework before it’s complete.

Regulus let's out a low chuckle.

“How long have you been planning this one exactly?”

James turns his head away from Sirius to look at Regulus as soon as the elder Black switches the machine back on and lowers his gaze to the work before him.

“6 years at least, since I became ‘Prongs’, ya know?”

Regulus nods once.

“And did you happen to tell your sister about the design? Or the appointment?”

This question throws James off, not only because he can't figure out how it’s relevant but also because he can't place why Regulus would be inquiring about what his girlfriend discusses with her brother. If they were anything like he, Sirius, and Remus are, then Regulus should know everything she says, does, or even thinks about. Right?

The confusion shines bright on James’ face. It's almost like Regulus and Sirius can see the gears working overtime, threatening to fall apart and start a smoking fire between his ears.

“I'm going to assume you did tell her,” Regulus begins. “And I'm making that assumption because I'm also assuming that you did something to piss her off last week around your birthday. Am I right?

James nods, the confusion only spreading across his features. He opens his mouth to explain, but Regulus cuts him off.

“Whatever you did, I sure hope you regret it.”

“Finished!” Sirius calls.

He's doing one final wipe down of the finished artwork when Regulus delivers the final blow.

“Because your punishment for whatever you did seems to be that your sister managed to convince me to get your tattoo appointment cancelled in favor of her own.”

Sirius’ jaw drops.

“The private booking?”

“Was really just me giving my girlfriend a free tattoo, yes.”

James’ and Sirius’ face fall simultaneously, and they share a hurried look.

“What was the tattoo, Regulus?” He asks tentatively.

A breathy sighs makes its way past Regulus lips as he glances at James' tattoo one last time before Sirius covers both hips with a second skin for healing and protection.

“Relax, she didn't steal the design.”

Sirius and James let out a breath of relief. With his nerves calmed, Sirius is able to start cleaning up, but Regulus doesn't stop.

“She just stole the placement, kind of,” He waits a beat for a reaction from either of the other two men. “It's pretty sick if I can say that about my own work. Two serpentine dragons that twist and curve up from her ass-”

“Please don't talk about tattooing my sister's ass,” James interjects, and Regulus rolls his eyes before continuing.

“Across her hips and up onto her lower abdomen just a few inches shorter than your antlers there.”

The shop falls silent after Sirius drops his trash into the bin. He slides the latex gloves he's been wearing for hours off his hands and moves to rinse the leftover powder from his fingers. Accompanied by the sound of running water, he and James process what Regulus has just told them.

“My sister hijacked my tattoo appointment to have her boyfriend tattoo symmetrical dragons in almost the exact same placement I've been talking about getting work done for years?” James asks to clarify.

Regulus nods. Sirius shuts the water off, grabs a fresh paper towel to wipe his hands, and then speaks.

“And how is that a punishment for James?”

Both James and Sirius look at the younger Black heir expectantly while James finally pulls his shirt back down and rises from the table. Regulus glances back at the spot the other man had just been occupying.

“The punishment is that it was a private booking, so no one else was allowed in the shop…” Regulus trails off.

“Yeah, but James still got the tattoo?”

“Private bookings allow for special requests.”

“Special requests?” Sirius and James ask in unison.

Regulus remains silent. They all allow the sound of cars passing by outside to fill the emptiness.

“ThespecialrequestwasthatwefuckonSirius’tattootable,” Regulus rushes out in one breath.

He's quick to grab his keys and make a run for the car when James and Sirius both catapult themselves away from the table and toward Regulus, eyes locked on his very wringable-looking throat.

“We agreed no sex in the shop,you arsehole!” Sirius shouts after him, before shooting his own boyfriend a suggestive look.

“I know my car is here, but we could still call Moony to pick us up.”

James and Sirius both scramble to find their phones.

[horridgoblin]

act 2 observations. entirely about gale. as i am now playing through the beginnings of act 3

(im slowing down my gameplay a bit because i dont want it to end. even tho i have other kinds of playthroughs in mind lmao):

the act 2 romance scene fucking broke my heart

i was seeing a couple bits of discourse online (who doesn't) where some folks think gale love bombs a bit to try and secure a relationship with you bc he doesn't believe hes good enough. or something along those lines. the love bombing comments stick out to me.

and i got a bit worried, because ive fell for love bombing irl before and i was like. fuck sake not again cant fall into the trap of another abuser

so i was thinking, he did pull the i love you thing rather quick.

but then the context of the scene hits and like. actually? no i dont think this is love bombing at all

in this particular scene, he believes its his last night alive

that in any other circumstances, he wouldve courted you properly, said the words leading to a "i love you" properly.

he also still doesnt believe you love him back? and is taken aback when you say you do?

also if i was in the position of my tav (who is entirely a self insert btw, i made them look like me even, albeit a yassified half elf version lmao)

i would genuinely say i love you back because holy shit i could also die at any moment on this adventure where i could become a mindflayer at any moment, or if a goblin got particularly stabby

i think any propriety or social standards for courting goes out the fucking window at the precipice of death?

so i dont think hes love bombing at all. keep in mind its a calculated manipulation tactic, and gale doesn't have bad intentions at all. he would not pull that narcissistic bullshit (because hes not one)

so those comments make me a bit :/

back to point 1

seeing his tower was like. holy shit this is amazing

ooooooooooooh the yearning

hes being so vulnerable with you, inviting you into his most precious sanctuary

the decor also slays

its heartbreaking because i was imagining wanting to live there with him. the domesticity of it all. but you cant. because he may die soon.

OOOOOOOOOH THE YEARNINGGG

clawing at my skin and hair

at first i was considering not having this scene play out because lore wise i would want to assure him id want the "gale right in front of me".

but if i was in my tav's position, i would indulge him out of curiosity and to see his enthusiasm for his wizardry. because i love his enthusiasm for the things hes passionate about. mystra be damned.

also id show him he doesnt need his magic to woo me. later. tho he does later say that i love him not just for his magical prowess. so idk? interdasting.

also no notes for the astral sex scene. none. 10/10 holy fucking shit

this is getting very long so. another post about act 2 in general will probably happen. maybe. im too brainrotted with gale atm oopsies!

[fowlfics]

other than my Crocodad DofuWani bullshit (which is now at 22k and yes this is the first im mentioning it here whoops its still only half done. send help) my other brainrot which i have been thinking about today is AceLaw.

More specifically, an AceLaw where they met shortly after Ace entered the Grand Line, started dating, Marineford happened as normal... And then the plot starts. With Luffy and Law and the insurmountable mountain of grief they're both shouldering.

I have something relatively short (2k) to post about it soon, courtesy of exploring exactly how many characters will discord let me cram into a single message (got to -8808 lol) over in MDL

Here's an excerpt bc i ought to make some use of this blog:

Pulling out the leather-bound journal, he set it carefully on Luffy's lap.

"Please don't destroy it. There's only this one copy."

Luffy glanced up at him, baffled. It was better than anger or sadness, at least.

Law motioned towards the book wordlessly and leaned against the desk; No description he could give for the book would be better than Luffy just taking a look himself.

He pulled the cover open gingerly, recoiling slightly at the sight of the first page. It was inked almost fully black, with only three coloured letters right in the middle of it: red A, blue S and yellow L.

Their first Jolly Roger, Ace had told him. The one they flew over the treehouse right up until they abandoned it after their brother's death.

Law supposed it might still hang there, if no one had bothered to take it down.

Luffy whipped his head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Keep going," Law encouraged. "He wanted you to see it, eventually."

Looking back down, Luffy turned the page. And then again, and again, and again, moving through the pages fast enough to make it clear he wasn't actually reading any of the words, barely looking at the pictures.

If he was anything like Ace, he likely couldn't read all that well, not even the carefully calligraphed words Ace had bribed Law into writing for him.

That was fine, though. There would be time for reading, later. Luffy already knew most of those stories, anyway. He had been there for them.

The only novelty would be getting to learn Ace's perspective on them; Something that, judging by his words, Luffy could clearly use.

It didn't take him long to reach the end, flipping the pages faster and faster until he reached the end of the filled portion. The few dozen empty pages fell towards the rest easily, opening the journal on the last page, the one Ace had most often returned to.

Luffy's hand carefully traced the edges of the portrait carefully inserted into the back cover.

"This..." he trailed off.

Law gave him a moment. When it became clear he wasn't going to continue, he filled in himself.

"Is Sabo, yes."

Luffy looked up at him again. There was old pain filling them, old tears.

"Ace had been working on it for a long time," Law elaborated. "I have a whole binder of his previous attempts, too. He wasn't happy with how this one turned out, either, but he said it was the closest he could get." And then, because he had been curious for the longest time- "Did he get it right?"

Luffy hunched his shoulder. "...I don't know," he said. "I don't- I didn't remember what Sabo looked like, anymore."

It's been ten years, to be fair. If someone had asked Law to describe Cora-san, he would have had troubles, too. Feathery coat, heart-dingled hat, wide lipstick smile, spikes under his eye, that much he remembered.

But how many spikes? Under which eye? What colour were the eyes themselves?

Time had an unfortunate habit of sanding away the details, taking the sharp edges of memories and tumbling them into blunt, opaque things, like sea glass.

It did the same to grief; That was the price you paid for healing.

[destructive-delight]

Does the "asks about something you talked about wishing you got asks about being tainted" still count if I was wondering about your advent art thing prior to you saying that but previously assumed it was rude to ask things about something that was supposed to be advent themed (like a surprise?) so I didn't but now I am? If so, sorry for overthinking that before and feel free to chuck this ask into a fire and ignore what is below.

But if it is okay:

The mixing of darker pieces for you to put up in between the wintery ones sounds fun af, but after seeing what I think was your title poll back before you deleted it, it had me wondering then if the advent arts themselves had a running theme or story in them beyond the winter/holiday thing?

And are you open to sharing any winter activities or holiday things that inspired what is to come?

ahh i would be lying if i said it didn’t sting a little to once again only get an ask after basically explicitly begging for one. though… i suppose in this case i get why you were hesitant before… maybe my perception is skewed because of how i view my own posts, but unless it’s a vent post i consider anyone making/reblogging a post about anything an open invitation to ask follow-up questions about it, so i’m always disappointed when no one wants to ask me any, especially when i keep coming back to the same subject. you’re right though, advent implies some level of secrecy and surprise… i didn’t really consider that…

that being said, thank you for taking the time to send an ask anyway! i’m not gonna chuck it into the fire, i’m gonna gently place it besides the fire as i proceed to answer the question in the most roundabout and long winding fashion i can muster:

the title i was considering (and currently am still unsure about) wasn’t meant to imply anything about the theme… it came to me in a flash of inspiration when most of the advent pieces were already finished tbh (°v°;;) the thing is, i refer to my plans as “advent posting”, which to most people would imply that it ends on december 24th or 25th, but since the Big Holiday™ for us is new year’s and i wanted to draw wintery, festive AND new-years’s-y pieces with the last one being posted on the 31st, i figured i need to give it a less… denominational title. i came up with some cheesier ones that referenced my username and whatnot, but “countdown to crisis” is probably still the best one i got. a countdown to the end of the year makes sense, and i expect 2025 to suck hard, so a more positive or cutesy title would just feel disingenuous. also if ones internet brainrot is terminal enough one might catch the explicitly christmassy reference in there. in my mind it fits on every level. still makes me cringe tho.

but yeah, no, there's no real running theme (´_`)

a lot of pieces are just cosy hang out scenes, some are only on theme by virtue of the character(s) wearing warm clothing, though at least one implies that presents have previously been exchanged.

one or two travel scenes, simply because i love travelling in winter.

lying sick in bed with a cold isn’t specifically a winter activity, but it doth happen more often in winter, so there’s some of that too.

i think i will draw one more festive piece, although i’m not sure yet what the theme will be. maybe a visit to the christmas market (a winter activity i enjoy, but i’m afraid i might not have the energy to draw that many details) or some cookie baking (something i don’t usually do in december because we get so many sweets gifted at work, but i do like the idea of it).

[lorz-ix]

Ok Godzilla fan brainrot moment?

I think there's a lot of untapped potential in depicting Ghidorah as anything other than a wyvern. His name says he's supposed to be a hydra, so that's why he's always depicted as a three-headed monster, but the most consistent depiction of him has two hind legs and two wings, like a traditional wyvern.

Pretty much all the monsters in the original Showa era movies have some sort of vaguely humanoid shape so they could be suits worn by a single actor, even though Ghidorah had to be puppeteered by several more people outside of the costume. I assume his original body shape was partly chosen for the sake of practicality, since giving him four legs plus wings would have made the acting even harder to coordinate.

However, the recent american depiction of the character even had him looking more wyvern-ish and animalistic, using his wings as forelegs to walk at times. Normally, his characterization as an animal/monster controlled by a higher power wouldn't clash with this creative choice, but in that movie (King of the Monsters) he's the actual controlling force. Not a big deal, but it's a curious evolution.

I'm not an expert in old folklore, but at least in modern media, both classic western (four legs plus wings) and eastern (serpentine, typically smaller limbs and no wings) dragons are usually depicted as more intelligent and powerful than wyverns (who I believe weren't even able to breathe fire traditionally?) so I thought that would be an easy next step for the character.

Don't get me wrong, it's been done before. Not that long ago, I thought The Planet Eater chose to go for a more eastern-looking form for the guy, since he's seemingly depicted as some sort of multi-dimensional snake with several heads and we only saw his traditional silhouette in a sort of dream.

But not only did I find this promising beyond-human-comprehension threat disappointing in its execution, turns out he's actually the same he's ever been. That dream wasn't just a reference for fans, it's how he actually looks, confirmed by merchandise and concept art. Shame. The chinese long Ghidorah well is officially left unexploited.

However, there have been a couple of four-legged, european style depictions. The first one is the overlooked and underappreciated Death Ghidorah/Desghidorah from Rebirth of Mothra. He looks absolutely incredible, exactly as threatening as his name implies.

The one "however" to this is... it's canonically a different character, a relative of the original King. Very close, but as I said, it's an obscure character that only made one film appearance and gets very little attention.

The second one I remember is Kaiser/Keizer Ghidorah, the true form of Monster X, seen in Final Wars, as a proper last opponent in an all-out anniversary movie. He's pretty much everything I just said I want to see.

You could argue that with a different name comes a different character, the wiki certainly treats him as such, and Ghidorah never had this Monster X, held-back form. The closest thing were the Heisei era Dorats that mutate into Ghidorah, obviously a much different thing. As for myself, I think he's perfect. A concept I want to see coming back in the future, just like Mechagodzilla finds ways to keep coming back in very different contexts.

I guess that's the point of this kinda long post. I got caught in the thought that, despite being Godzilla's arch-nemesis, the final boss of the franchise, despite all the decades of film-making and storytelling, there's still so much room for growth and re-imaginings. Pretty cool stuff I think.

[s1m0nth3swag]

Lockwood & Co – Anthony Lockwood X GN!Reader

Summary; Lockwood takes too long reading in the library so you decide to surprise him to get him to bed.

Pronouns used for Reader; None, 2nd person view

Notes; Fluff, established relationship, lots of cuddles and kisses

Authors note; Decided to write some fluff as first post since I'm way too deep in the Lockwood & co brainrot.

It had been a while since you had gotten ready for bed, comfortably fitting into your pyjamas pants and a shirt from your boyfriend. Your teeth were brushed clean and you had freed your hair from the style you had it in the whole day. You quietly sat on Lockwoods bed, legs tucked under the blanket, staring at your phone as you sighed.

Lockwood was sat in the library. You knew that. You also knew he'd forget the time and stay reading for way too long. Nothing could actually make him get out of the deep library chairs, it's almost like he was glued to them the second the clock hit 10pm. Worst part, he'd stay glued there until about 2am, after which he took another hour to eat a 'late night snack' before taking another half hour to get ready for bed. Ultimately, he'd actually get into bed at about 3:45am, where you were long asleep and sort of pissed at him for staying up too long again. He knew you didn't like it, but it was his escapism so you couldn't actually do anything against it. Without his late reading hours Lockwood would have to start facing his shit and well, he'd never actually do that. So it was you alone in bed while Lockwood forgot about his problems in shitty gossip magazines. You sighed again.

Soon later you found yourself wander down the stairs, your bare feet tapping against the wood. First you take a short trip into the kitchen. The thinking cloth, full of random scribbles of which most you fail to even remember why they exist, was also dirtied by crumbs and patches of tea – no one in the house really cared, though there was a designated cleaning day every week. But it brought an idea. You knew Lockwood loved tea, seriously, he downed that like it was the only thing keeping him alive, but he had a secret sweet tooth. Grinning to yourself, you quickly collected everything you needed from the shelves. Milk and some chocolate, together with smaller ingredients and just in a few minutes you had the perfect chocolate milk. Lockwood had said for weeks that he wanted to try your 'honestly most awesome chocolate milk' (quote taken by George and Lucy who both already had had the pleasure to taste it as you always made it when one of them felt bad) and now you'd use it to get Lockwood get to bed just a little bit earlier.

»Anthony?« You called, two steaming cups decorated with whipped cream and sprinkles. »Mhm?« Lockwood hummed, not looking up from his magazine yet smiling wholeheartedly. Not many called him Anthony, it was a little weird when getting to know him on last name basis only. It took you a pretty long time to get used to it yourself. »Made you something.« You chuckled, leaning against the doorframe to the library. By now the faint smell of steaming chocolate had carried over to your boyfriend and you watched him hurriedly turn his head. »No way. I thought I'd only get that if I'm feeling down and communicate?« Lockwood laughs softly, finally putting away the magazine and slowly getting up. »Well.. I'm feeling down. You've not come to bed yet.« You answer, smiling softly. »Now come on or it'll get cold. I'll wait for you upstairs. Maybe.« You winked playfully, watching his face light up immensely and scramble over to you. »I'll be right there sweetheart.« He whispered, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek before getting to the bathroom. You in return went back upstairs, carefully placing the tray on the bedside table and sitting down on the bed as you waited for your boyfriend.

A few minutes later Lockwood casually walked in, now wearing more comfortable - and too big - clothes. The shirt was a normal oversize while the pants hung lightly on his hips, not that you minded the sight of him in day to day clothing rather than the dress shirts and suits he was almost always wearing. You grinned at him cheerfully as he lunged over the bed towards you, capturing you in a soft hug after knocking the air out of your lungs. »Seriously?« You chuckled »Trying to kill me or something?« »For you to come back and haunt me? Never, love.« Lockwood replied, his voice muffled due to his face being smushed against your shoulder. You hummed softly while Lockwood propped himself up onto his elbows, smiling down at you before sitting up and grabbing his cup of hot chocolate – now more like a warm chocolate. You grinned, taking your own cup and getting a big sip before watching your boyfriend's reaction to the sweet drink. His dark eyes widened, evidently taking in how great it tasted, and looked at you. He hummed, probably trying to voice how he liked the drink without actually speaking, which ended in different tones of humming instead. You laughed at yourself, smiling stupidly at Lockwoods antics. »It's the greatest thing I've ever tasted.« Lockwood said once he gulped the entire chocolate milk down – he couldn't be bothered stopping for just a second to tell you that before he finished. »Glad you liked it.« »You gonna finish yours or..?« You laughed out loud, handing your half done chocolate to Lockwood and watched him down that one too. It was truly incredible. »This.« He started, placing a kiss against your cheek. »Is why I love you.« He ended, mumbling the last bit softly as he looked into your eyes. »So I'm only a way of getting chocolate milk? Wow, we're breaking up.« You joked, kissing his forehead. Lockwood laughed in return, an honest, full laugh, snuggling against you apologetically. »Sorry Love, didn't mean it that way, I love everything you do.« He spoke, his voice muffled as he pushed his face against your neck. »Well then, let's go brush our teeth and sleep, sleepyhead.« You huffed, feeling Lockwoods steady breath on your skin. Your words earned you a soft hum from the boy, who evidently didn't plan on moving one bit from his current position.

»You're a dork.« You mumbled, chuckling at Lockwoods antics.

»am your dork though.« Lockwood answered, smiling against your neck.

[fatuismooches]

Hello smooches, its 🥝 anon. I'm sorry for not popping up on ur inbox for a very long time again (health issues, again.) i hope that you are doing well! I see so many Dotty's rambling when i scroll down a bit and honestly i can't wait to read all of it 🙏🛐 (and also hoping to see just a bit of Capitano content from u-)

So.. Remember when i said last time that i have a brainrot about Capitano's Childhood Crush with fragile!reader? In ur Capitano Childhood Crush fic, reader always sends a lot of letters to him but he never recieved them, right? (It was disheartening, just like what u said on the fic..) And, Well..

Imagine that all of the letters are about reader telling him about their conditions, their illness getting worse and worse, until the last one about reader wanting to see him again for last time..

When Capitano wanted to see them again, he sends some of his Fatui agents to search for reader whereabouts (since it would be too dangerous for reader's safety if he is the one who come to them, also he never see them among the crowds for a very long time whenever he and his troops came back, reader always come to see him..).

Now, imagine his reaction when his agents told him that reader is already dead a long time ago or when he finally found all of reader's letters 😔

I'm trying to make my ask not too long, æügh 😩😭 i'm sorry if its messy- 😭 anyways, sending virtual hugs for u smooches for still feeding us Harbinger content for more than a year now 🤗💞🛐 as always, bless u and ur big brain writings

-a rotten 🥝 anon

(Also recently, i saw an "early" story leak about the next region on twt that we will have Dottore boss fight in Natlan instead of Capitano. Idk if its true or not, but if its true.. then, i guess you guys Dottore lovers better prepare for him now 👀 i want to see some C6R5 Dotty mains here)

HI 🥝 ANON!! I MISSED YOU! And don't worry about popping in! I want you to take care of yourself first above all! I hope you enjoy the plentiful Dottore brainrots though :3 (and i promise to post some Capitano brainrots. Just for you.) BUT AHHH THIS BRAINROT... WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME SAD. (Yes, I remember when I put that in my fic! I can't believe it was so long ago though- you made me go back and reread it 😭)

Imagine if you live in a secluded part of Snezhnaya. It's quiet and pretty with only the servants in the house to keep you company. Capitano let you stay here instead of the mansion because staying in that big house without him would probably make you sadder. Though you are already sad without him, it's a bit better. But you spend a lot of time writing him letters. It was a habit of yours, telling him what you've done all this time even though he's not here. Some letters get sent, some don't. But you always put the happier stuff in the letters that get sent to him. He's out doing a lot of hard work, you don't want to bother him with your illness! Though anyone could see the lingering sadness in your letters. However, the battlefield is a tough place and the long distance doesn't help your case. Things are bound to get lost and go missing. So you're left waiting, and waiting, and waiting for your husband's replies that never come... Eventually, you stop sending them, instead keeping them in a box.

Although Capitano is busy with his mission, he wonders why you haven't reached out to him. Amidst the war and battle, he does look forward to your sweet letters, perhaps your handwriting may not be the best, but he loves to see how his darling is doing. He of course focuses on his duties, but he always thinks of you. So it wouldn't hurt to send an agent to report on you, since clearly communication isn't the best right now. When the soldier arrives and hears of your demise, he isn't sure how to break the news to his Harbinger. All he can do is hope that the letter makes it to him after the battle is over, so morale isn't too down. And it does. The Fatui win this battle, and the letter comes just in time. Ah, finally he can see how you're doing, Capitano thinks. But when he reads the first sentence, he's... well, I can't explain his emotions very well. Empty would be a good word. Why? Why didn't he know? Couldn't something have been done? You were find before he left, how did your condition worsen that quickly?

He won't know, because he won't ever hear your voice again.

AND YEAHHH i saw that leak too but. To be honest i don't really believe it, a bunch of story leaks have turned out to be trolls so tbh i don't really pay attention to them anymore, especially when they're so far into the future 😅 But my c6r1 Arlie savings are going strong right now! (400 wishes >:)