#who is this for? no one except maybe me and one other person

[mixedupmojo]

Weird isekai idea that I had that I just wanted to realise into the wild.

Ok so you know how there are multiple stories out there about reader getting transported into the world of journey to the west and then ending up tagging along as the pilgrims make their way west. Here's the thing most of the time these story's take place once the group has already been assembled or the reader ends up meeting Tripitaka first.

So here's the thought what if reader meets Wukong before the group has a chance to get together. Let me explain.

So imagine reader has just arrived in a strange new world and they have absolutely no clue where they are or how they got there and are freaking out really badly. So they start calling out to see if there is anyone nearby that can help them and after a good few minutes of wandering around and shouting for help they suddenly get a reply. Relived they rush towards the voice, only to find that the person that was calling to them wasn't a person but a monkey that looks to be trapped within the rock of a mountain. And it only takes them a second to realise that this isn't just any monkey but thee monkey, the monkey king, Sun Wukong himself and somehow they've been transported into the story of journey to the west. Their internal crisis soon gets interrupted as Wukong starts asking if they wouldn't mind helping him out with his situation. Knowing the story not to mention what Wukong's capable of they immediately disagree much to Wukong's outrage. At Wukongs outburst they go to leave but that’s when they realise that they still have no clue where they are and what's worse no idea who could help them except for maybe Tripitaka so they resolve to wait for him much to Wukong confusion. Realising that it might not be a good idea to tell him that they are not exactly from this world they stick with the hopelessly lost excuse. which Wukong responds with that he would be happy to help them out if they let him out which is an obvious no so things quickly devolve into a stale mate.

Days go by and they end up talking a lot, with Wukong casually trying to convince them to take off the seal every now and then and them always refusing. But as the days go by the more anxious and worried reader gets after all they have no idea at what point in the story they are and it could very well be a hundred year before Tripitaka will eventually show up. Food and shelter are also a worry as they've managed to get by due to it being summer and there is plenty to forage and a small cave nearby that they've been using for shelter but they know it won't last forever. but most of all they really, really want to go home they miss their family their friends they miss their life. More time goes by and day by day reader and Wukong bond even more to the point where the monkey king has actually grow quite fond of them and cares quite a lot to the point that he starts helping them out in what little ways he can. He even stops constantly trying to get them to remove the seal on the mountain only occasionally asking every now and then and its usually only after he see them struggling, instead he's taking the time to ask them about themselves and find out more about them and in return he tell them about himself usually stories of his glory days. eventually they come clean about the fact that they are not from this world and how they have no idea how they got here or how to get home, breaking down a bit as Wukong resolves to help in any way he can. Then one day it happens completely unprompted reader suddenly get up and start walking away at first Wukong doesn't think anything of it as they often leave to look for food and other such things but as the hours go by and they've yet to come back Wukong starts to worry think that something bad might have happened to them before he gets the horrible thought that they might have just finally got sick of waiting and left him. Stewing in his thought the monkey king slowly growing more and more enrage and heartbroken at the potential betrayal. when suddenly he can feel it, he can feel the mountain shift and he realise what they have done. It's after another few hours pass that he hears them running down the mountain catching a quick sight of them as they run past him. it doesn't take him long to realise that they are getting a safe distance away and he waits a few more hours before he finally breaks free. Meanwhile your despriatly trying to catch your breath as you watch the entire mountain explode chunks of rock flying in all directions and your barely able to make out a reddish orange blur coming towards you before your enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

Thus beings their own journey to find a way to get reader home.

I dunno I just really like the idea of Guanyin or Tripitaka turning up and Wukong not being there and all of haven freaking out because the monkey king is on the loose and no one has any idea where he is.

[entiqua]

I love your artstyle!! Do you have any tips for drawing?

thank you so much! i'm really happy you like it!!💗 as for tips, what i would say would change drastically depending on what kind you're looking for, but some very general ones:

draw what you love and want to see most, regardless of whether anyone else wants to see it. if you don't enjoy what you're drawing it'll never come out as good or genuine as something your whole heart and soul is in. i mean you'd think this would be a no-brainer but sometimes i've had to sit back and ask myself 'if no one was ever going to see this except me, would i actually spend time drawing this?' and i was surprised by the answer

that said, it is also completely valid if your motivation for drawing is to draw for other people! there have been plenty of times where i was too artblocked to draw my own ideas but was still able to draw commissions or gifts and enjoyed it simply because making other people happy with my art makes me happy.

don't get too caught up in having a consistent art style. in my experience this 1000% hinders you

having your sense of anatomy degrade over time without you noticing because you keep drawing the same types of characters is a very real thing! if this is a concern to you be sure to draw a variety

follow a billion artists that you like the art of and you will have endless inspiration injected directly into your brain every time you open social media

my favourite practical tip for those who draw at a desk: keep a small mirror next to you at all times. absolute game changer for quickly referencing hands

if you're drawing digitally, make the canvas huge! in my experience this lets you draw messier/faster and you can't tell at all when you zoom out. if you tend to get stuck spending unnecessary amounts of time micromanaging pixels (me💀) keep it zoomed out while drawing

related to the above point, messy drawings can have far more expressiveness in them than neat and polished drawings. nowadays i never do lineart and go straight from 'barebones stickman pose' to 'varying-levels-of-coherent sketch' and use that as my lineart. sweet freedom from the sketch-looks-better-than-the-lineart phenomenon

if your goal is to improve, then you really do have to scrutinize your art, figure out what you're not satisfied with, and commit the time to focusing on it. 'practice makes perfect' kinda rubs me the wrong way because of how much i've seen it interpreted as 'just draw everyday and you'll magically improve' but genuinely it won't get you very far if you don't actively think hard about what you're trying to improve and take the steps to do it. is this a hot take idk. also hand in hand with this, not every artist is trying to improve and you shouldn't feel bad for this! maybe you just wanna make a little headshot doodle of your fave blorbo and that's your only drawing goal ever. awesome. maybe you know your art has flaws but it's passable enough to convey what you want and you're perfectly satisfied with that. (this is the stage i'm usually at). also awesome!

don't hesitate to draw something because you think it's out of your skill level. the worst that can happen if you draw it is that it comes out terribly but you learned something and can always redraw it better in the future. the worst that WILL happen if you don't draw it is that you'll never draw it. and then it will sit in the back of your brain haunting you for years. it's not like i'm speaking from experience or anything aha

look up 'hand stretches for artists' and do them if you draw a lot unless you wish to summon the wrath of the carpal tunnel demons

of course, these may not necessarily work for you, and most importantly(!) these are coming from the perspective of someone who is primarily a hobbyist. some of this won't be practical for people who need to build an audience, maintain a consistent style for work, etc. these are just things that have personally helped me over many years of drawing :)

[a-d-nox]

nox tests hypotheses: "saturn tells you what annoys you"

this is one of shawtyherbs hypotheses. this is how i feel this manifests for me in my chart and why i believe this hypothesis works. my saturn is located in my 3h, in taurus at 29°... let's take deep dive!

taurus saturn

a lack of discipline: i feel like i have a strong work ethic - i value hard work. i despised when i did group work in school and i was paired up with procrastinators or people who were unwilling to put in the necessary effort to achieve a good grade. it felt like every time i had my part done i would start getting anxious that the other person/people didn't. it felt like a manipulation - like we were playing chicken. if they didn't do it, would i do it for them? how long did they have to wait until i stepped in?

instability and unpredictability: sudden changes, chaotic environments, and erratic behavior can make me uncomfortable, anxious, and annoyed. i guess it's sort of like a trauma response from childhood except now i get irritable... everyone know my dislike for surprises.

wastefulness: i get easily irritated by wastefulness, whether it's wasting time, money, or resources. again maybe its from my childhood and having those experiences. but i am the type of person who arrives on time. if i buy something and don't like it i use it until it's gone, i eat it til its gone (even if its stale), or i use it til its paid itself off (if i buy a shirt and can't return it and it was $30, i am wearing it 30 times). it sounds strange - i know - but it is how i am...

superficiality: i really value authenticity. i feel like i am easily annoyed by superficial behavior, materialism without substance, and people who put on mask to fit in... like so what if you don't laugh at someone's shit joke, so what if i am happy with my hydroflask and want nothing to do with a stanley (it's all the same to me), and who cares if your true self is not everyone's favorite (you'll find your people a whole lot faster if you're your self).

resisting practicality: you know how much advice i have given throughout the years THAT WAS ASKED FOR and people did what they wanted anyway??? why even waste my time if you don't want outside perspective. or something its just kind advice to help with ease like hi you are using a stain on the deck, i recommend you wipe as you go so it dries quicker and you don't accidentally smear/smudge later. but nooooo.....

saturn at 29°

arrogance: you know it's okay to be wrong... it's not okay to pontificate about how you were right in some alternate scenario. just admit you were wrong in this situation and move on or better yet say nothing...

irresponsibility: when you say you are going to do something do it. if you are a leader then lead and know that you are responsible for anything you designate to someone you view as your subordinate (especially when you don't train them on what you want them to do for you). if you can't commit to having a task or being in charge than don't do it. someone is relying on you - it's 10 times worse when its yourself and you push goals to the side.

unfounded claims/criticisms: perhaps i am overly sensitive to criticism because i tend to take my work and my self a bit too seriously. but if you can't take yourself and what you do seriously, then who will? i take everything personally too. so when i get criticism and its said in a nasty way (at least how i interpret it) or there is a lack of explanation or no backing i will get annoyed. you bet my humor will be ill-tempered... you can't expect me to react well to a comment like "you're wrong". like wow okay so detailed, i'm glad you decided to write one word and a contraction to dismiss my 2k essay. like if you are going to criticize me or disprove me make it detailed and make it sound. and if i do something wrong its probably because no one told me how to do it in the first place (cough cough work) so don't snap at me, walk me through it.

lack of respect: now listen - i'm no angel, i was a teenager once - eyerolls and all. but now that i am a bit older (she said at 23) i am getting to the point where respect isn't freely given (unless its to build a good first impression) but instead its earned in a pre-existing relationship. i don't tolerate disrespect, no one is going to snap at me and tell me what to do. you do that and you will get the opposite reaction that you expect from me (speaking from real life situations). asserting dominance doesn't make you worthy of respect, it makes you a bully.

3h

superficial conversations: i said it why back when in one of my get to know me posts. i prefer deep, meaningful conversations and i find small talk / superficial chatter frustrating or pointless. like skip to the meat bruv - we don't have all this time for "hi how are you?" "good how are you?"

disorganization: a lack of structure, whether in communication, in a learning environments, or my daily routines, irritates me. i feel like it effects me most in the routine bit. weekends are my prime culprit because my schedule falls apart. during the week my meals and tasks are standardized, but on the weekend, i somehow manage to always get annoyed because i eat lunch late or what i had in my mind to do gets tossed aside...

gossip/rumors: i feel uncomfortable with gossip, i prefer facts and reliable knowledge. which i know facts seems shaky when i am posting the content i do... but generally facts over fiction in conversations. gossip and the like almost always gets me in trouble - i struggle with holding my tongue especially when i see someone regularly who has been gossiped about frequently. withholding information is a form of lying in my opinion - and lying makes me extremely uncomfortable.

impulsive decisions: i am trying to get better about this because i tend to carefully deliberate everything. but i don't like when others around me make impulsive decisions that effect me because it ruins the plan i already had in my mind. for example, last weekend i wanted to go to an all day fall festival with my mother (and yes i told her tuesday my plan) but last minute my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend said he needed her help with a project and it was going to be an all weekend thing. so friday night my plan went out the window. so quickly had to make a new plan consisting of paid readings, trader joe's, and shampooing my couch (fun stuff i know...).

a lack of respect for rules/boundaries: a disregard for social norms, etiquette, and established rules of communication annoys me so badly. like it is common courtesy (at least for how i was raised) to call or write in advance of stopping over at someone's house. my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend is the biggest perpetrator of this behavior. they aren't technically dating anymore so hello hi in my opinion he should be giving us a heads up if he will be stopping over. also switching gears when i say "no" or "i don't want to" i feel like a lot of people around me push me and test me to see if i will change my tune. i don't appreciate that in the slightest. i make clear boundaries in all the relationships i have (even here i have guidelines) - so yes, you bet i get frustrated when i vocalized or wrote my boundaries and yet they get ignored.

do you have a hypothesis you want me to test? or perhaps you want me to build a hypothesis for something you've been wondering about where astrology is concerned? please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see it happen!

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© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[thomas-jefferson-miku-binder]

I hate Mel Medarda discourse because she’s an insanely well-written character with a lot of depth, but people almost always have only two things to say about her: 1) evil girlboss or 2) never did anything wrong. both make me want to krill myself 🦐

In front of you, there’s a female character born of war who rejects the physical brutality of her family’s name and the regime she was born under. except said violence never really goes away because if it ever does leave, nothing else would remain

This character can and will reproduce the hatred she has always known, just in more palpable ways, ways where she’s allowed to look away — or even better, ways where she’s so distanced from the action itself that where she “looks” doesn’t even matter

It’s also so interesting to think that maybe Mel doesn’t dislike physical violence because it’s “bad” but simply because she does not excel at it The thought that if Mel was maybe stronger or a more skilled fighter, she would be just like her mother tickles my brain. yaaaas Although, to me, that's a more "what-if" scenario than the actual characterization Arcane deceipts

By the way, I do not think Mel is a monster. She clearly does try to be what she considers a "good" person, but the violence she’s always known sometimes escapes (just like in the Viktor scene above — she does not like to be disagreed with).

Sooo insane that she’s a diplomat/politician because yes. what other job in the world would allow her to exercise that repressed violence while also giving her the sense of duty—of goodness.

Mel is stuck at the scene of the execution form her childhood. All she does is repeat the same scenario in her head with different outcomes: sometimes one where she saves the prisoner, another where she doesn’t hesitate (that being the keyword here) to kill her

This reverberation of the violence she suffered is just her manner of coping with that traumatic scene. a way of lessening the pain without actually confronting its cause.

I feel like I need to clarify that no, I do not think Mel is “evil”. I don’t even think she is intentionally manipulative (most of the time), I think she handles people the only way she knows how to, which is probably one of the only reasons she survived Noxus at all (as, to how I see it, there's only a certain extent your House will guarantee your protection in Noxus).

I know the fandom talks a lot about Viktor and Jayce being idealistic, but I rarely see people mention how Mel is just as romantic. Jesus- that’s literally a huge source of conflict with her mother: Ambessa thinks Mel is naive, which to her means weakness, which to her is unacceptable.

I hate that Mel Medarda is forced to be subjected to fandom spaces, because, no, she is not a small bean. no, she’s not an evil girlboss.

Do I believe she is a good person? I think she tries to be (even if her notion of goodness is so heavily aligned with honor, too), and that tells me a lot more about her character than how successful she is at it

[cemetegee]

Determinism in TLT

The three people who actively follow my blog will know it, but for the others I'll say it: I don't judge TLT characters personally. (Except if I want to make a point or if I want to provoke a little.) That's not because I think their actions are not bad (they often are). But thing is, I think the characters are hardly made to be judged.

We can, for example, take Ianthe, my blorbo, my wife and my love. It was, all jokes aside, surely a horrible crime to kill her cav. Besides of that, it would maybe really have been better, if she hadn't saved Jod. (I mean, we didn't know it back then, but it seems obvious regarding NtN, even if it's understandable that she doesn't wanted her loved ones to die.) She has a lot of complicated character traits as well.

But if we look at where she is from, it's obvious that she had to be like that to survive. She is manipulative? So is her sister and probably her whole House. She is unnecessary eager to reach her goals (on cost of others)? Surprise, that's what her sister is like and her whole House too!

It's extremly obvious, that all characters are basically caricatures of how their Houses are. Palamedes, the scholar, the Warden... Dulcie, the beauty that blossoms and dies... Oh, even Silas. You would think it was extremly stupid of him to fight Ianthe, but actually, based of all what we know about him, I really think he had no other choice (technically, but not practically) as fighting her for his beliefs. It's so obvious, that even the characters themselves talk about it at a point:

That means: Ianthe is maybe a questionable person, but she wouldn't have been, if she had grown up on the Sixth. Palamedes is a (comperatively) sweet person, but he isn't like that because he naturally is like that, but because he's grown up on the Sixth.

[Let's make a sad little literary class trip:

Palamedes even says himself in TUG, that from (House specific) point of view, Ianthe is not wrong. It's a very interesting moment, because a character of the series admits, that (in TLT) moral is not static, but a question of the point of view. (What's made by the circumstances (in TLT).)

]

And that's what Determinism means. It's the idea, that people don't (only) do things, because of decisions, but because of their circumstances. The idea of Determinism is really important for leftist ideas because it enables ideas like: if you put a bunch of people with no money and boredom in a quarter, crimes will happen. (The idea shifts the attention from decisions to the circumstances.)

Even if the characters of the TLT universe are able to make decisions (maybe), I think it's pretty obvious how much the books are influenced by the idea of Determinism. And therefore, even if some of the characters awake the wish in me to... Oh! What did I want to say? Anyway, I think it's important to regard the context of the characters. It's possible to judge them, but it's also interesting to do it not and look at their reasons. (What doesn't apologize them, but makes them understandable)

This post is involuntary sponsored by this horrorshow interesting post of @swordrogue. I just couldn't get it out of my mind. Please go read it, it's very interesting

[elysiaheaven]

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐊𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚, 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞-𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗸𝗮𝘀𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗮- нσηкαι ѕтαя яαιℓ 𝘅 𝗸𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗮 𝗳.𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

words:3677

You entered the dreamscape after having a weird conversation with that blue-haired boy named Misha.

You were falling from the sky, your long white and purple hair flowing wildly in the wind as the stars glittered around you. The idea of becoming a shooting star seemed perfect—radiant, free, and mysterious. With a mischievous grin, you stretched your arms out, ready to blaze across the night sky, leaving a trail of light behind.

But as you soared downward, something caught your eye—a figure, no, two figures, below on the ground. A blonde man was walking with someone, his presence unmistakable even from such a height. Panic mixed with surprise as you realized your trajectory was heading straight for them.

"Ah! Look out!" you cried out, your voice cutting through the night as you tumbled uncontrollably.

Before you could even attempt to adjust your course, the inevitable happened. You crashed right into the blonde man, sending both of you tumbling to the ground in a whirlwind of limbs and confusion. The other person with him gasped, stepping back to avoid the chaotic collision.

When the dust settled, you found yourself sprawled on top of the blonde, your face inches from his. His eyes—magenta and cyan, with black slitted pupils—stared back at you, a mix of shock and something else flickering in their depths.

"Well, that wasn't the grand entrance I had planned," you muttered, half embarrassed and half amused.

He blinked, clearly trying to process what just happened. "You... fell from the sky?"

"Yep, like a shooting star! Except, you know, I missed the whole 'shooting' part." You grinned, not bothering to move from your current position.

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk slowly forming on his lips. "I should've placed a bet on when a star would land on me."

The other person, who had been silently watching, finally spoke up. "Are you both alright? and didn't you and I fell down too?" They seemed more concerned than amused by the situation.

You pushed yourself up, standing and offering a hand to the man you had just knocked over. "Sorry about that! Didn't mean to crash your night."

He took your hand, getting to his feet with surprising grace for someone who'd just had a surprise encounter with gravity. "No harm done. But maybe next time, give a little warning before you try to become a celestial body?"

You laughed, brushing off your clothes. "I'll keep that in mind. But hey, who knows? Maybe I'm the luck you needed tonight."

As the blonde man dusted himself off, you couldn't help but notice the other person—the one who had been walking with him—watching you with a cool, almost analytical expression. There was a distinct chill in his gaze, as if he was measuring you up and finding you lacking.

The blonde man, however, seemed more amused than anything. He flashed a charming smile, the kind that hinted at mischief, and offered his hand again, this time for a proper introduction.

"Name's Aventurine," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a playful lilt. "And you've already made quite the impression, crashing into me like that. I don't usually meet stars in such a... literal way."

You took his hand, trying to ignore how your face was probably giving away every bit of your embarrassment. "I'm, uh, just a bit clumsy, I guess," you replied, unable to keep from grinning like an idiot. "Nice to meet you, Aventurine."

The other man stepped forward, his demeanor contrasting sharply with Aventurine's warm friendliness. His pink eyes with that unusual yellow ring around the pupils regarded you with a distant coldness. He didn't bother extending a hand, his tone as frosty as his gaze when he finally spoke.

"Dr. Ratio," he introduced himself curtly, as if the formality was a mere obligation. "You should be more careful. Not everyone appreciates such... dramatic entrances."

You chuckled awkwardly, feeling like a fool under his scrutinizing stare. "Yeah, I'll try to stick to less dangerous ways of saying hello next time."

Ratio's expression didn't soften in the slightest, and he seemed more interested in moving on from this encounter. "See that you do," he said, his tone clipped before turning his attention back to Aventurine. "We should continue. We have work to do."

Aventurine, however, didn't seem in any hurry to leave. In fact, his attention remained fixed on you, his interest evident as his smile widened. "Oh, come now, Ratio. Don't be so harsh. Our friend here just wanted to make an entrance. And what an entrance it was! Besides," he added, his voice lowering in a way that made your heart skip, "how often do we get to meet someone who literally fell out of the sky?"

You laughed, a bit too loud and a bit too nervous, rubbing the back of your head. "Well, I do try to be memorable."

Aventurine chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "That you are. And I'd love to hear more about how you ended up falling into our path. Perhaps over a drink? I think a story like yours deserves a proper setting."

You grinned back at him, feeling a mix of relief and excitement at his interest. "Sure! I mean, I could use a drink after all that. And who knows, maybe I'll get to hear some of your stories too."

Ratio rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with the turn of events. "Aventurine, we're wasting time."

Aventurine waved a dismissive hand. "Relax, Ratio. Sometimes the best investments are made in the most unexpected encounters. You can go on ahead if you're in such a rush, but I think I'll stick around a bit longer."

Ratio's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't argue further. With a sharp nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with Aventurine.

As Ratio's figure disappeared into the distance, Aventurine turned back to you, his gaze sparkling with interest. "So, how about that drink."

You couldn't help but laugh, your earlier embarrassment fading under his playful attention. "Lead the way, Aventurine."

You and Aventurine made your way to a nearby café, he was in high spirits, clearly enjoying your company. The evening was turning out to be unexpectedly delightful, with the prospect of a few more stories and possibly a bit of mischief.

When you finally settled at a cozy table, Aventurine's charming demeanor took a playful turn. He leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know," he said with a grin, "I've been thinking. Since you're an Astral Express member and I'm a bit of an... extravagant spender, how about we join tabs? I'd hate to see you go hungry while we're having such a delightful time."

You raised an eyebrow, the offer sounding a bit too convenient for someone so keen on making an impression. "Nice try, but I think I'll pass. I prefer to keep things straightforward."

Aventurine's smile didn't waver. "Fair enough. But don't think I'm going to let you go without at least treating you to something. Consider it a small token of appreciation for making my night so memorable."

You were about to protest when he waved down a waiter and began ordering a seemingly endless array of dishes. It was a feast fit for royalty, with everything from exotic appetizers to decadent desserts. You watched in awe as the table filled up with an impressive spread, your earlier reservations melting away in the face of such abundance.

As you dug into the food, your initial hesitation faded. Aventurine's presence was both engaging and amusing, and the food was absolutely delicious. You couldn't help but smile as you indulged in the feast, every bite more satisfying than the last.

At one point, as you were savoring a particularly delectable pastry, your device buzzed with a new message. You glanced at it, only to find a text from someone named "Anonymous":

You're an idiot. Aventurine's just a two-faced fool. Don't get used by someone like him.

Your smile faltered, and you glanced up at Aventurine, who was currently savoring a dish with unabashed enjoyment. You hesitated, then decided to bring up the message.

"Hey, Aventurine, I just got a message saying you're a two-faced fool and that I shouldn't get used by you. What's that all about?"

Aventurine paused mid-bite, a hint of surprise crossing his face before he broke into a hearty laugh. "Ah, Ratio's little gift to you, I see."

You blinked in confusion. "Ratio?"

"Yes, Ratio," Aventurine confirmed, still chuckling. "He has a habit of being overly critical of me. The truth is, he's just envious of the way I manage to get by with a bit of flair and a lot of charm."

You frowned, feeling a bit uneasy. "So, is there any truth to what they said?"

Aventurine waved a dismissive hand, his grin reassuring. "Oh, Ratio's right about one thing—I'm certainly not without my flaws. But I assure you, I'm not trying to deceive you or use you. I genuinely enjoy your company, and tonight has been quite fun."

You studied him for a moment, trying to gauge his sincerity. The way he was looking at you, with that playful glint in his eyes and the way he had been treating you throughout the evening, made it hard to believe he had any malicious intent.

You hesitated, the earlier message from Ratio still lingering in your mind. The food was incredible, and Aventurine's company was undeniably charming, but something about the situation didn't sit right with you.

You swallowed your last bite and looked at him, the warmth in your smile fading. "Actually, Aventurine... I think partnering up might be a bad idea. I'm all for having fun, but I'd rather keep things simple. Maybe we should just enjoy the meal and call it a night."

Aventurine's grin didn't waver, but you noticed a flicker of something else in his eyes—something calculating. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the table as if considering your words carefully.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, his tone still light but with an undercurrent that made you uneasy.

You nodded, trying to maintain your resolve. "Yeah, I think it's for the best. I don't want to complicate things."

He stood up slowly, his movements smooth and deliberate as he walked around the table toward you. There was a newfound intensity in his gaze, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he closed the distance between you. In his hand, he held a small chip, which he began to twirl between his fingers, the metallic surface catching the light in a way that seemed almost hypnotic.

Aventurine leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke directly into your ear. "You know," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, "I happen to know a lot of things—secrets, if you will. Secrets about everyone on the Astral Express. Things that could make life very difficult for a lot of people."

You stiffened, the implications of his words sending a wave of dread through you. "What are you saying, Aventurine?"

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his grin now sharper, more dangerous. "I'm saying that if you don't cooperate with me, I might just reveal those secrets. I'm sure you wouldn't want that, would you? After all, we've had such a lovely evening so far... it'd be a shame to end it on a sour note."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his threat pressing down on you. "Are you blackmailing me?"

He tilted his head, his smile never fading. "Blackmail is such an ugly word. Think of it as... a persuasive offer. One you can't refuse."

Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Aventurine had gone from charming to menacing in a heartbeat, and now you were caught in his web, with no clear way to escape.

Just as Aventurine's words hung in the air, the tension thickening, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned your head, relief flooding through you as a figure emerged from the crowd. It was Sunday, his presence commanding and serene, his golden irises locking onto you with a calm intensity.

"Is there a problem here?" Sunday asked, his voice gentle yet carrying a weight that made it clear he wasn't to be trifled with.

Aventurine's smile didn't falter, but you noticed the slight tightening of his grip on the chip in his hand. "No problem at all," he said smoothly. "I was just having a friendly chat with my lovely companion here. We were just about to discuss some... personal matters."

Sunday's gaze flicked between you and Aventurine, taking in the situation with a sharp, discerning look. "It seems Mr. Aventurine is a very busy man. Perhaps it would be better if I accompanied you for the rest of the evening. I wouldn't want to impose on your time, Mr. Aventurine."

Aventurine chuckled, though there was a dangerous edge to it now. He stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Sunday. "I'm sure you wouldn't, but the thing is, *she* was with me first. Besides, we were having a good time, weren't we?" He turned his gaze to you, a hint of challenge in his expression. "Why don't you make the choice? Who would you rather spend your evening with?"

Your heart raced as both men looked at you, each with a different intensity. Sunday's calm and protective demeanor was a stark contrast to Aventurine's charming yet menacing presence. You hesitated, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

Sunday remained composed, but you could see the subtle tension in his posture as he awaited your decision. Aventurine, on the other hand, seemed almost eager, as if he relished the game he was playing.

Finally, you took a deep breath and looked at both of them, trying to steady your nerves. "I think..." You glanced at Sunday, then back at Aventurine, who was still holding that chip, the unspoken threat lingering in the air. "Maybe it's better if I—"

Before you could finish, Aventurine leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only you could hear. "Remember what I said. Think carefully, because once you make your choice, there's no going back."

The subtle menace in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes darted to Sunday, whose gaze softened, silently offering you reassurance.

You steeled yourself, your decision solidifying in your mind. 

Choosing Aventurine

You hesitated for just a moment, but the allure of Aventurine's charm was too strong to resist. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in even as the warning bells rang in the back of your mind. Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and placed your hand in his. Aventurine's grin widened, a mix of satisfaction and something darker playing across his face as he firmly pulled you closer to him.

"Well, then, I guess that settles it," Aventurine said with a smug edge to his voice, not even sparing Sunday a second glance as he started to walk away, guiding you through the bustling streets. You turned back, feeling a pang of guilt as you met Sunday's calm, understanding gaze. You mouthed a quick "sorry" to him, hoping he would understand.

Sunday's expression remained unchanged, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe just concern. He nodded slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your choice, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you had made a mistake.

As Aventurine led you away, his hand warm and firm around yours, he glanced down at you, his tone light and teasing. "Looks like you made the right choice. We'll have plenty of fun tonight, trust me."

As you walked hand-in-hand with Aventurine, the unease from your decision gnawed at you. His grip was firm, almost too tight, and the playful charm he had shown earlier now felt suffocating. You mustered the courage to pull your hand back, trying to create some distance.

"Let go," you demanded, your voice more assertive than you felt.

Aventurine didn't stop walking, nor did he loosen his hold. Instead, he looked down at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. His magenta and cyan eyes seemed to pierce right through you, all traces of his earlier playfulness gone. "Shut up for a while," he said, his tone cold and commanding, sending a chill down your spine.

Before you could react, he suddenly pulled you into a dark corner, pressing you against the wall. You were about to protest when his hand flew up to cover your mouth, silencing you. His eyes weren't on you anymore; they were focused on something—or someone—else. You followed his gaze and saw Sunday, but something was wrong.

Sunday's form shimmered, and in the blink of an eye, he changed. The dignified man you knew had transformed into a girl with short, black hair tipped in red, her clothing a striking crimson. She exuded a dangerous aura, her eyes sharp and calculating as she scanned the area.

Your eyes widened in shock, and a scream began to rise in your throat. Before you could make a sound, Aventurine's hand clamped down over your mouth, muffling any noise you might have made. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Don't. She's a Masked Fool."

You froze, the words sinking in. The Masked Fools were notorious, and you knew enough to understand that getting their attention was a death sentence. You stared at the girl who had once been Sunday, your heart hammering in your chest.

Aventurine's grip on you tightened, his eyes never leaving the girl as she moved further away, her presence still menacing even from a distance. When she finally disappeared into the crowd, he slowly released his hold on your mouth but kept you pinned against the wall.

"Stay quiet and stay with me," Aventurine whispered, his voice a mix of warning and something else, something almost protective. "You have no idea what you just got yourself into."

You nodded, too stunned to speak, the reality of the situation crashing down on you. Aventurine might be dangerous, but at that moment, he was the only thing standing between you and something far worse.

Kaslana out!

[thevanillerose]

LEATHER | DABI x BLIND!READER | MY HERO ACADEMIA

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Coarse. Soft. Plush. Hard.

Your world was defined by these words. It always had been. Blind from birth, you were used to being steeped in darkness, but because you had never known anything different, it wasn't something that made you feel bad. If anything, you weren't sure why people felt so sorry for you. Why they would express such pity towards you when they found out about your affliction.

You were getting on just fine, right? So truly...there were people out there who were far more deserving of their well meant concerns than you were. You didn't need anyone to worry over you.

Perhaps the only thing you wished you could have sight for was to know what you looked like. Somehow your parents were a perfect image in your mind, it was as if you could envision them anyway, despite your own impairment. When it came to you personally though, well...you didn't have the faintest clue.

Were you ugly? Pretty? People always claimed it was the latter, but how were you to know if they were lying or not? There was truly no way of telling.

So that was maybe the one thing that did bother you. The rest of it though, you could deal with. You would be alright.

In fact, you were so brave with it that you would walk home alone at any time of night, no qualms about it. Sure, there had been talk of a mysterious killer on the loose lately, but the most you had heard were vague rumors that you strongly doubted held any actual water.

Like hell you were going to get scared!

Once again, you were out in the early hours. Your senses were always on max settings anyway, so if someone happened to be pursuing you, you would pick up on it in a split. However, it wasn't what lay behind you that you needed to worry about.

A few steps forward, and suddenly you bumped into something. Staggering backwards, you immediately registered that it was a person, and instantly doubled over into a respectful bow of apology. “Sorry! Excuse me...I didn't see you there...” It was quite amusing to use a line like that, given that it was rarely so literal.

The fellow turned and cast his piercing turquoise eyes upon you, observing you in silence. The air was immediately tense.

Dabi hadn't been expecting you to run into him out of nowhere. The streets were usually quiet at this time, he'd go looking for trouble in certain spots sure, but those were usually the obvious ones, like your sketchy backwater nightclubs and 'massage parlors'.

One look at you, and he was confused. “...What are you doing out here alone?”

Male...I figured. Judging by his voice...he's probably around my age...

 “I...I usually come out at any time, really. I was just picking up some supplies-”  You held up the plastic bag filled with goodies from the 24 hour mart. He stared at it for a moment, before letting his eyes flicker back to you again.  “It's dangerous.”

 “Well-” you lowered the bag and shrugged, “-I know that's what they say but...if I stayed inside just because I was scared, it would be like handing over control to whatever bad guys are out there. It would be like they were already winning.”

 He quirked a black brow. Interesting take.

 “...You're brave.”  You heard him take a few steps forward, around your side, behind you. Shuddering, you could sense his fingertips gliding ever so lightly against the back of your shoulder, across the nape of your neck and to your other arm.   “How do you know you've not just run into an enemy though?”

 Well now you were really wondering.    “...Because...you're standing out here on the pavement, right by the road. People like that usually lurk in the shadows...”  “It's dark enough out here though.” he stated, as he circled around to your front again, and you could sense him standing closer than before, “There's nobody else around...no cameras watching...just you and me. I could get away with anything.”

 Now the fear was setting in. He was certainly talking like a killer...so could he really be? You swallowed uneasily and tried to step around him, but his hand caught your side and pushed you back, prompting you to drop the bag as you jolted. Those cartons of chocolate milk you'd bought were scattered.

 “Please, I don't want any trouble!” you insisted, and he tilted his head.  “Maybe you should have watched where you were going. Maybe you shouldn't have been walking out alone at night.”  “I-I'm entitled to!”  “So am I.”

 “...You're the killer they've been talking about?”  “Maybe.”

 This was insane. Even you felt like you were being reckless now. However, you needed to find some way to excuse yourself or run from him. You'd worry about calling the police when you were somewhere safe.  Then again, what would you even tell them?

 “Look...I...if you let me go I won't say a word...” you promised, but he simply scoffed.  “Yes you will, don't lie. You're going to file a police report at the first chance you get.”  “No! No I won't because, because I wouldn't even be able to in the first place!”  “...And what is that supposed to mean? You've seen my face, my location, I basically admitted to you that I'm the killer. Of course you can file a report.”

 “...” Telling him this seemed like as much of a bad idea as a good one...but you would do it.

 “...I...I don't know what you look like. I can't see you.”  There was a long pause. Dabi stared at you, blinking a few times, before leaning in just a little bit.  “...Excuse me?”  “I-I said I can't see you. Because I'm blind.”

 That threw him for a total loop. He hadn't been expecting it. Though now that he really looked at you, he supposed that your eyes weren't really focusing on anything in particular, and they certainly weren't looking at him. So, well, he believed it.

 What now?

 “...Okay. So you're blind. I suppose that...removes the problem for me.”  “A-are you still going to kill me?” you dared to ask, and there was another frightening pause, before he sighed.  “...No...There's little point in it. Just another mess I'd have to clean up.”

 Instantly you were almost bowled over by a wave of relief.  “Th-thank you!” you gasped out, and quickly crouched down to find the items you'd dropped. Dabi watched you fumbling for a moment, your hand patting the ground as it tried to find what it was looking for.  

 He didn't quite know why. Perhaps there was just something tender about you, either way, he ended up crouching down to pick up the carton.

 At the very moment he reached out though, so too did you, and for a split second, your knuckles brushed.

 Instantly you recoiled and gasped. What you'd just touched, it was unexpected.  “What was that??”  “Hm? Oh right...you can't see it.” Dabi sighed and put the carton back in the bag but remained crouching there in front of you, examining his own hand. “...My skin isn't really what you'd call regular.”

 Admittedly, you were curious. He seemed to be behaving more calmly and rationally right now too. Would it really be so bad if you asked?

 “May I...touch it again?”    “Huh?” Dabi quickly looked at you, brow furrowing. “...Why?”  “Because I...I suppose I'm just curious. I won't if it bothers you...I've just...never felt anything like that before.”

What am I doing? What am I doing!? This guy's a killer!!   ...Why am I being nice to him?

 Perhaps the better question would have been vice versa. For Dabi actually conceded, brushing your hand with his again and allowing you to gently run your fingers up his wrist. You didn't even know his name, and yet you were crouched on the ground with him, caressing his arm and feeling how rough, tight the skin was...like it had been burned to a crisp.

 “...What happened to you?” you had to ask him, noticing there were hard staples plastered in there too, as if he were some zombie that had been stitched up. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached up with both hands this time, laying them gently against his cheeks and cupping his face.

 His jaw was much the same. It felt similar, like he was damaged. But you could tell his face wasn't unpleasant. He had a good structure, you could tell-  “What are you doing?”  His voice suddenly sounded, a little sternly so, and his hands took your wrists just to guide them down again. Hesitating, you lowered your head.

 “I'm sorry...I act a little rash sometimes...”  “...It's fine. I can tell.” he uttered, but he hadn't let you go just yet. “...But I think I'd rather know about you. How did you become blind?”

 This was such an odd situation to be in. Confessions on a dirty pavement, and confessions to a supposed killer no less. What if you said the wrong thing and he just ended you right here and now? This scarred man did seem to have a cold disposition...but for some reason...you wanted to open up to him anyway.

 “I didn't really 'become' blind, I've been like this from birth.” you explained, and though you couldn't see it of course, his eyes widened.  “...Oh?”

 “Yeah, so...hah...I don't even know what I look like. Sometimes I imagine I must be the scariest thing walking around out here.”

 Dabi's hands slowly slipped away, making you worry. He laid them in his own lap, and watched you. The concerned emotions flickering across your face, like you were suddenly fearful you'd admitted too much. You were obviously nervous around him, but it was like you didn't want to deter him either.

Is he really the killer? I want to run, and yet...I don't.

 His hand slowly extended towards you again. That unmistakable touch against the skin of your cheek, as he let it rest against your face. You could feel his thumb, gently rubbing in a circle. Your hammering heartbeat slowly calmed. You found yourself sinking against his palm.

 “You're a curious one. A bit of a weirdo.” he added, and cracked a smile you couldn't see. Maybe you somehow knew it was there regardless.

 “But...you're pretty too.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[katerinaaqu]

Ismarus! Ismarus! (P2)

The second part Of my story! Continuation from Part 1 and kinda a late birthday gift for @h0bg0blin-meat Sorry I was late! As always the inspiration came from discussing complicated stories with my dear friend @artsofmetamoor

There wasn’t much to disrupt the silence of Ismarus and maybe that was why the tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife. It had been several hours since the moment they had refused to assist the Greeks out and now they seemed rather nervous. True they seemed like sailors and tired from a long trip but they were always veterans from Troy, a city that wasn’t taken before since Heracles and the look on that short man seemed alarming. It was as if he was much more than what met the eye. Something about him had been disturbing to the embassy. It seemed that his eyes had caused more than just a mere slaughter of a large city. The guards at the walls were always on the edge of their wits waiting.

“There is no sign of them anywhere” one of them said to the other in their dialect, “Maybe they got the message and left”

“Perhaps…”

The sound of leaves hustling was enough to make them jump. They didn’t know what was about to happen but they could feel it down their spines; all the way to the hairs in their napes that were now standing up in their worry. They were generally peaceful people. Their skills in battle were enough to keep invaders away from their area. And yet now that small person from another kingdom arrived there with a threat roaming over their heads like Apollo’s judgment.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“There!” The guard pointed at some bushes, “The sound came from there!”

As his partner gazed over the walls to see at the spring leaves of the thick bushes and failing to see anything suspicious; maybe except the fact that the bushes were a bit closer than what he remembered! Where his eyes playing tricks on him or…?

“Go back and report!” he urged, “There is a high chance they-…”

His voice was cut of when the whistle of an arrow and the terrifying sound of metal cutting through flesh chocked the words down his chest and a shaft went through his tender neck. He collapsed chocking in his own blood.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” The other man yelled, “SOUND THE ALARM!”

No sooner had the words escaped his own lips and another arrow hit him to the shoulder, making him lose his footing and falling out of the walls inside the city’s perimeter. And then a storm of arrows fell from the skies. The Greeks jumped from behind the bushes and dozens of cords were pulled at the same time, singing like deadly birds.

“FIRE!” Odysseus ordered, voice roaring above them all

Flintstones cracked almost at the same time, sparks coming out of the friction and lighting arrowheads covered with cloth, sending a flaming rain upon the walls where the confused guards didn’t have the time even to gear up before hay next to them set aflame or their own clothes and hair setting on fire. Odysseus watched as flames and smoke rose.

“Give me that!” he ordered his squire grabbing the bow and the flaming arrow

Like a hunter who skillfully aims for the moving deer across the forest, Odysseus of Ithaca aimed and shot and the arrow pierced right through the wooden gate. He grasped upon a sling and span it, before throwing the material at the door. The small perfume bottle at the end of it which was now filled with a mixture of wine and oil, broke against the gate, sending wild flames to dance like Kaveiroi; Hephestus’s demonic helpers by the heath of his workshop. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he watched the flames spark and consume the wood of the gate. His mind traveled back to their plans once more.

“How are we going to hit them?” Eurylochus asked, “They will throw stuff on us from the wall!”

“We shan’t get anywhere near the walls, Eurylochus” Odysseus replied in confidence

He took a branch and drew some circles at about shooting range of the city.

“We shall use vegetation as our cover. We will release the arrows like a storm before they have the time to shoot us. I believe we have plenty of hunting bows and arrows”

“Yeah” Eurylochus agreed, “At least a hundred bows and respective arrows”

“Good! We can use oil and wine as our assistance”

“Assistance for what?” Polites now asked

Odysseus eyed him. His eyes already sharp like the obsidian glass that is being forged under the merciless flames coming straight from the core of the earth.

“Fire, of course, Polites! We shall burn them down before they have the chance to aim! They will be waiting. They will be tensed! But if the plan works, we shall lose no men today!”

The defendants finally released some counter-attack, sending their own rain of arrows at them.

“DEFEEEENCE!” Odysseus roared

The shields rose over their heads, taking in dozens of arrows. One or two that got through and nicked a shoulder or a foot, caused some pained yelps. Odysseus didn’t have the luxury to look back. He prayed, though with all his heart that they would be fit to fight later.  So far so good, the Much Cunning man thought. He raised his arm in the air closing his fist. Eurylochus saw the signal and blew a hunting horn. It was a long, monotone note but it pierced the air even above the screaming of the men at the lines of shooting. And it only took a couple of seconds before some more fire smoke emerged, this time from the other way of the city. The heads turned towards that direction. Odysseus this time almost grinned. Yes, according to plan!

“The spies reported a tunnel for the waterfront at the back, here!” Odysseus said pointing his stick at the other part of the square that represented the city on the sand

“What are you planning to do with it? Send people inside?”

“I could, but it is risky. The path is small and it can fit one man at a time without armor and I shall not send unarmored men in enemy territory. No, my plan is quite simple, really”

He placed his stick to the part of the front gate again.

“I and the main team shall launch the attack here. If the plan works they will be too distracted. While they are occupied with us, a small team shall run as fast as the wind can carry them to the passage…and on the signal they shall start a fire”

The men at the back passage were already lighting more intense flames at the hay and dry grass they had hastily gathered. As the team of watchmen arrived at the spot before they could launch a counter-attack they were taken down by the last small team of archers, lurking behind the main task force that started the arson.

Odysseus made a move with his fingers, cross-way, opening his fingers in opposite directions with suggestive meaning.

“Distraction, division…Disorientation!” he said self-complacently, triumphantly

His eyes scanned his generals as they seemed to be literally hanging from his every word.

“Derange!” the king of the Cephallinians added

Back at the present, Odysseus placed the helm better on top of his head. The red and blue plume adorning the top of his boar-tusk helmet, waved gracefully at the breeze. His hand clasped the leather stripes tighter.

“Wait! Wait for them to open the gates!”

His nerves were at the peak; his senses seemed to be heightened. Like an experienced hound seeing the stag drinking water from the waterfront and already feeling to its teeth the taste of warm blood and flesh; legs and paws ready for the deadly sprint, Odysseus was feeling every tiny muscle in his arms pulsating in anticipation. He knew he had but one chance. He couldn’t afford striking before the exact proper time!

“I still fail to see how you will get is in the city, Odysseus” Eurylochus pointed out, “You say we bombard the walls but how shall we get in?”

Odysseus took a gulp of wine, his lips almost curling in a cat-like expression.

“They will let us in, Eurylochus!”

“They will?!”

“They will have no choice. They have fire to their front, fire to their back and they know they have better chances to face us at the open field. They shall open the gates for us and when they do, we shall be ready!”

He placed his cup at the side and played a bit with a small piece of skin coming out of the base of his fingernail. He thought for a second before looking at his second in command.

“Do you think my chariot can be used?”

“It is damaged” Eurylochus admitted, “But I suppose we can fix it for a battle real quick”

“Good” Odysseus said biting that piece of skin apprehensively, “Because it is an important part of my plan. I shall need it and two of my strongest horses. I shall lead the attack inside”

“Odysseus, no!” one of the generals protested, “You must not take reckless decisions!”

“If I don’t, no one will” Odysseus retorted, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I will have you for cover. Send the order to fix my chariot!”

“Yes, sire!”

“The rest of you shall take position as agreed. If it works we shall charge through their defenses before their cavalry charges”

Horses were already plowing the sand with their hooves, as if their master’s nervousness and eagerness was being transferred to them. And Odysseus endured this bloodlust of battle that was making him restless, until he saw the gates opening slowly and he knew he had his chance!

“CHAAAAAAAAAARGE!” he ordered

His squire stirred the horses the exact moment the door opened and his chariot sped forward. The horses neighed and the sand rose in clouds as the squire forced the animals to drive the vehicle through the gates just on time for a couple of horses with their riders to come out. Odysseus raised his sword and cut one man right across the shoulder; blade cutting flesh and connections through the bones, blood oozing out of the wound as the rider fell to the ground. The second had no better luck for his hand was cut off from the base of his wrist and his horse’s legs crushed against the wheels of the war chariot. The animal screeched pitifully and fell onto the sand, taking the already wounded rider with him to the next world. The king of Ithaca drove the chariot triumphantly into the city, forcing his squire to turn the horses, facing the opponents arriving at the same time; one hand holding the leather stripes of the side and one holding a sword or a bronze spear. The army of his men coming behind him sprinting like ants attacking an enemy colony. The screams of the residents who didn’t have the time to evacuate sounded like a hellish music to their ears. The clanging of metal against metal and pained screams of the wounded was deafening. Blood splattered in every direction as the Cicones of Ismarus realized too late they had fallen into the trap of the Greek soldiers; soldiers molded, baked and hardened at war; men who now felt all the same battle lust and thirst for blood as they had when they invaded the city of Ilium, the holy ground of Troy, once more under the command and because of the plan of this very same man! This man that was now on top of his chariot, clearing the path for them, looking almost like god Ares himself who leads the troops of gods through the battle; his bronze and leather armor shining under the sun, the boar tusks in his helmet stained with blood and dust and yet showing the wild nature of war right there before their eyes; naked sword and spear at hand, bow and arrows waiting; Odysseus seemed at home. This familiarity of slaughter and war was the only thing they knew for almost a decade. For Odysseus too; the calmness of his childhood, the hunting parties in the forest, the quiet life among the quiet herding of the sheep and the goats in the plain; the change of season and the harvest of crops…all seemed forgotten. It was insignificant before this thrill of battle and conquest!

“Yes! Burn it down! Show the punishment of Zeus upon those who refuse his law!”

His eyes looked around. His men running around the city carrying torches and bronze. Fires were being set hither thither, screams were heard as helpless women and children were running out of their burning houses, coughing the sulphous smoke, some of them had covered their children with blankets, some were leading elders outside. They didn’t get to go far for many of them were grabbed by the hair by the bloodthirsty and now completely lost in battle soldiers and dragged out towards some other spot, crying or screaming, trying to hold onto whatever precious they had in hand; property or children.

“EURYLOCHUS!” Odysseus called his second in command closer, “Take the reins! Take over!”

He jumped out of his chariot rushing to assist some soldiers on foot.

“FIND THE KING! SIEZE THE CASTLE!” continued his orders on the way

His obsidian eyes scanned the massacre; men falling in the already bloody sand, women and children crying and running helplessly. One or two dragged behind corners. He had no idea what would happen beyond his optical field.

“No! No women and children! I said you shall not harm women and children!”

He slashed once more, feeling the blood splattering his already blood, painted face.

“MURDERER!”

And he slashed again…

“MONSTER!”

And again…everything almost seemed slowed down around him… It was as if his own breath was maximized to his ears…the neighing of horses and cries of the wounded… Some bloody lock of hair had escaped his helm and was resting against his brow, making the hairs almost touch his eye. It was bothering him…

“MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!”

His breath hissing at the back of his throat; sweat running down his face, burning his eyes and salting his lips, transferring the metallic scent of blood alongside dust. His eyes seemed to be changing the scenery; it was night again; the streets were cobbled and not just covered in golden sand and dust; women and children were not tattooed or have their locks free running about but wore good veils and long skirts; women and children crying on top of their husbands or screaming at corners as soldiers would have their way with them in their lust for battle and thrill. He blinked repeatedly to bring the current image to his head instead. No, he wouldn’t think about Troy! Not now! However, was that image so different, really? He mechanically closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of dust and blood and fire. Suddenly all sounds were blocked; only the whistling in his ears was echoing and some distant cries coming straight out of the haunting past.

“NOOOO!”

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

“ODYSSEUS! YOU SPAWN OF THIEVES AND RAGGED SCHEMER!”

“ODYSSEUS! Odysseus…”

“ODYSSEUS!”

He gasped as the familiar voice of Polites reached his ears and just on time for his senses to heighten once again and blocking just on time a Ciconian sword a few inches away from his face. His counter attack was as quick as the man had his throat gushed from side to side, revealing the tendons and vocal chords. He choked on his own blood and fell. Odysseus needed a second to calm his heart.

“Thanks” he said to Polites half-heartedly

His eyes looked up at the top of the walls to see a man running accompanied by two others. He had seen that man before! He was with the embassy that met them. So this man was their king after all! His lips formed a smirk. He spat the bitter taste of blood and sand off his mouth.

“Cover me, Polites!” he ordered running up the stairs

His feet were getting almost sinking in the bloody sand as he ran upstairs. The arrows that whistled by his side were music to his ears as one of the king’s guards fell. The other bravely charged towards Odysseus but his sword was deflected. Odysseus pulled the man by the arm and threw him down the stairs. As he approached the top, breathing heavily, the man eyed him with his brown eyes and pulled his own sword. Odysseus moved his head a bit as if he was approving the man’s persistence. And then he charged. The two swords clang with each other. He was strong, Odysseus noticed, and fierce in his attacks. He gathered the sword and attacked again and then again, to be met with a counter attack. His opponent nicked his arm. He hissed.

“Shit!”

The attack came again but this time he was ready. Like two lions ready to tear each other apart over the best part of a carcass, the two kings were fighting for the price of the city and its treasures. Odysseus span once more, hitting the man’s stomach with his elbow. The stunned king turned back and chocked as he tried to counter his next attack. He also earned himself a gush to his arm.

“Surrender!” Odysseus demanded

The man spat something in his dialect, eyeing Odysseus with this kind of look that if it were lightning, Odysseus would have been stricken dead by now.

“I suppose this means ‘never’!” he smirked

He attacked again and again. The man was exhausted even if he was at least five years younger. Odysseus knew he wouldn’t go forever. His own muscles suffering from a day’s battle and from the light scratches he took upon during the battle.

“No! I shall not die here! This is not my destiny! My home is waiting! Not here! Not like this!”

He kicked the sand under his feet; some went to his opponent’s face. In that moment he stroke with his sword, piercing the flesh of his opponent’s stomach. Unfortunately for him it wasn’t deep enough. The man stepped back, holding his wounded stomach. He looked around, the destruction of his city that seemed to be already falling even if the day was not even over yet. He looked again at his opponent who so simply had managed to take his Ismarus with just a handful of men. He knew he was dying. He had realized his city was lost now.

“Who…are…you…?” he gasped

Odysseus rushed forward, like a wolf towards the wounded doe that was now making her last stand. His sword met the last weak resistance from his opponent. Fast like a cat he removed the small knife he kept in his armband and with one swift move he sank it to the side of his opponent’s neck. The king of the Cicones chocked as his own blood filled his mouth and lungs. He twitched and tried desperately to breathe. Odysseus leaned to his ear.

“I am Odysseus of Ithaca, son of Laërtes, the conqueror of the holy city of Troy!”

The man’s eyes widened in horror and realization as the shadow of death was already giving them a glassy appearance.

“The…S-Sacker…of…Cities…” he finally rasped out

And then the shadow of death passed over his face as he collapsed and never moved again. Odysseus sighed towards the heavens. The day was coming to an end; the sun was getting lost towards the horizon. He heard cries of triumph coming from down below. He looked down and saw that the city was taken over. The few men that were left alive, they were forced to throw their weapons; women and children were being led out towards the central square.

“Yet another city…fell in less than one night… Gods, it is so easy…feels so natural… Gods…war is inside me! The cries of all I destroyed are crying inside my head! The Sacker of Cities… Athena…patroness of war and wisdom, Pallas Athena… Why was this seed planted inside me…? Why me…?”

He ran his hand over his face, smearing some of the blood still on it. He looked down as the cries of triumph had increased now. He could hear them now form a rhythm once more…

“ALL HEIL FOR ODYSSEUS!”

“HOORAY!”

“SACKER OF CITIES!”

“SACKER OF CITIES!”

Odysseus closed his eyes and leaned back up towards the heavens. His sword fell from his hand and the knife that had taken the life of his opponent was long forgotten.

Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities! Sacker of Cities!

*

He inspected the area. The fires were still burning around but they were under control. At least no one seemed to be seriously hurt apart from some minor injuries and cuts that were taken care of very soon. His own minor cuts were barely of need of bandage. He felt exhausted and he wasn’t sure the battle was at fault. However he tried his best not to let anything show. Him feeling sorry for himself wouldn’t change a thing and in the end of the day they had chosen this. In a way they felt like they had to although he knew it was more the call for war inside them rather than the hunger in their bellies, which was a reason enough and yet…

“Odysseus! Look!”

The tired king followed the sound of Eurylochus’s voice as he led him to the granary. It was forcefully opened with axes and swords and revealed the treasure inside; grain, wine, dried meats and many, many more they could use for their trip just like as they had predicted. There were also cattle that were led to the square to be included to their sacrifices or offerings or prices and quite a few sheep and goats too.

“Look at all this food! We’re saved! By gods you did it!”

“Yeah…” Odysseus said absentmindedly

“And so many riches! Look!” Polites added, showing him some pieces of metal, weapons and jewelry, “This city was loaded with goods!”

Odysseus forced a small smile to his lips.

“Bring them all out” he ordered, “They shall be placed in the lottery to be shared with everyone. Foods and drinks shall be loaded to the ships”

“Do you want to choose, first?”

Odysseus stopped. He felt like he was re-living the conversation back at Troy when he was asked to take the pick of the spoils. Strange how often he was getting that question!

“No, Polites” he said, “We shall all take our share fair and square. That is the will of Zeus’s justice…”

Back at the square the few remaining men were tied up with secure ropes and brought kneeling before their conquerors. Odysseus walked over them, counting.

“Are they all that are left?” he asked

“We believe so”

“You…believe so?” Odysseus echoed, suddenly eyes darkening, “You mean you are not certain?”

“There was a huge battle, Odysseus! You cannot expect us to know for sure if anyone escaped or not…”

He had to admit that his general was right. But this scenario was possibly what he feared all along.

“And this was no battle…it was a slaughter! Just like Troy…”

Although he had to admit at least the Cicones were given the chance to fight back. It wasn’t like they attacked at night while everyone slept, right? Right? He eyed at the men who glared daggers at him.

“Kill them” he ordered calmly

The voice he made was so calm he was surprised. He hardly batted an eye when his men slashed the throats of the surviving warriors and watched the light of life escaping from their eyes; their last breath drawn out of their lips.

“How easily do men die! How easy it seems to plunder cities and yet…plunder and steal lives is even easier… Cursed war! Cursed Troy! You made a monster out of us all! This was not supposed to be our fate! We didn’t deserve this!”

The sound of begging came to his ears. And he heard the common Greek. That drew his attention as his men were dragging a man dressed in luxurious robes. There was no doubt on his identity. His face turned pale.

“UNHAND THIS MAN!” he roared the order, “This man is a priest! He shall not be touched!”

His men got alarmed by his voice and let the man go. The man seemed frightened. His beard splattered with blood and dust. His robes seemed tattered and half-torn. He was obviously dragged out of the temple violently. Odysseus felt his blood boil! He hoped his battle lust men hadn’t done so when the man sought sanctuary. That would be the end of them! He ran to help the priest stand. His hair was a rare copper sheen. His long curly beard was of even brighter color still. His eyes had the sheen of hazel. He seemed no over than 40 years of age. Maybe younger.

“Are you alright?” Odysseus asked

“Thank you…” the priest mumbled, standing back to his feet, “I am fine”

“You speak our language”

“Yes” the priest spoke, “I had the honor of being taught by my teachers when I was an acolyte to the grace of the Silver Shafted!”

“Rest assured, your safety is guaranteed. No one shall touch you while I am in command! Who are you? What is your name? What is your line?”

“I am called Maron, my lord. Euanthes is the name of the man who claims my heritage. I have the honor of claiming both the Greek and the Thracian blood and language inside me”

“Maron of noble birth” Odysseus said officially, “You have my word that you shall be guaranteed your life. Flee Ismarus while you can. Forgive me for the destruction we caused. Trust me though your lords and masters had it coming. We arrived at their doors seeking hospitality and they refused. This blood shall fall on them”

He was lying to himself and he knew it. Perhaps part of him believed what he said. However not all of it. The lust for blood he felt before was no coincidence.

“I beg of you, my lord, can my family also go through? I have a wife, sons and daughters! Please be merciful and allow them also flee! In the name of Apollo I beseech you!”

Odysseus smiled reassuringly.

“You have my word” he promised, “Rest assured. Take all your kin and everything you can carry and go. No one shall harm you. No one shall take a single hair of your heads while you do so”

Maron, son of Euanthes bowed before the king of Ithaca and grabbed his blood-painted hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. Odysseus shivered. Such gratefulness coming from a man who had the chance to save his life and his family!

“He kisses the hand of the man who killed his masters! Just like king Priam kissed the hand of the man who killed his son! Is there hope then? For our souls in Hades? Or maybe we are doomed like Achilles who fell by the arrow of the weakest man in Troy?”

“Blessed you be, my lord!” Maron whispered, “May Apollo guide you with his light! May he grand you health and wisdom!”

Odysseus drew his hand back. Part of him wanted to scream for this man to realize whom he had before him; the butcher of Troy! The man who chose to fight by trickery and chose to take the holy city in one night.

“Enough, my friend…enough…” he whispered, “Just go…you are free”

“Please…let me give you a gift for your mercy, my lord…”

He dragged the astounded king by the arm, like a child taking his father to see his achievement. Maron led him to the temple that still smoked. His family was gathering everything they could. Maron took him to the cellar and presented him with a large sealed vase.

“Please accept this godly wine from me, my lord” Maron said, “It is a blessed, black-red sweet beverage for you and your kin. But be careful, for it is very special. One cup of this, needs to be watered at least 20 times before it is drinkable. Never forget it!”

Odysseus smiled once more. Such a valuable gift! Maron was being extremely generous with them. Somehow this kindness and response to mercy reminded him the small peace of mind he got when Menelaus gave him some praise despite the fact that the city of Troy was cussing his name to the grave. He caressed the large ceramic and then turned to the priest.

“I am beyond grateful for your gesture” he said, “I shall accept your godly gift and I shall heed your words to my heart, I promise”

Maron nodded. He then took his veil, covered his face and then took his family, placed them all to their cart and slowly left the city. Odysseus had made sure no one would be getting in their way. He watched the priest go. He knew he would never see him again. And yet his heart felt a bit lighter. At least some part of him was still human…

***

A very VERY special thanks to my commenters from my previous part @cjbolan @dionysism @freetyphoonfire @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog

So this is the actual attack of Ismarus! Hahaha! Sorry if my descriptions are all over the place here! You see I wasn't sure what kind of tecnique Odysseus might use since he doesn't claim he gets any sort of loss during the charge. So yup! Here's me trying to imagine how an "Odysseus style plunder" might look like! Hahaha!

The inserting flashbacks was a thing inspired heavily from movies such as "The A Team"

The part of where you read "Odysseus you spawn of theives..." etc was of course a wink to my fanfiction Guilt Part 2 The part where Odysseus speaks about his heart feeling lighter and remembering Menelaus was also a wink to my fanfiction's third part Guilt Part 3

The cries of "Murderer" and "monster" were actually a wink to a fic I haven't read yet and to give you a light spoiler is again a hint to the cries of Hecuba mourning for the loss of her children, Polyxena in particular.

The knife in his armband was a wink to my tiny story Philoctetes Inspirations 2

Once more inspired by music by Kostas Kapnisis this time the one called "Μάχη" ("Battle")

as well as the main theme of the movie aka the titles sequence music:

I loved the heroic theme being inserted by tragic music and some violent drums. Seems so fitting for this!

Originally I wanted to finish this second part with Odysseus warning his men on leaving immediately and sharing the spoils but I thought it would be more impactful to finish it at the mercy shown upon Maron and his family instead.

I will certainly write a 3rd part for this and I am not sure if I will need a Part 4 too! Hahaha! I will need to see how big part 3 will become.

As before I wanna thank a few accounts that honored me before with insights comments reblogs and ideas (again terribly sorry if I forget anyone!)

@loco-bird @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @shafeeyaart @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @styberusartz @freetyphoonglitter @simugeuge

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Sing me to Sleep Zhongli & more

Return to File

Recovery date: September 23rd, 2024

Description: hi again! i'm back for something else, maybe way more fluffier than the angsty one :) so, what do u think abt a reader who literally can't sleep without hearing their beloved's voice? i'm kinda like that, except that i listen to songs, and seriously, its super annoying without my earphones ;-;

anyway! what do u think about zhongli, al haitham, cyno, xiao, and any others u want? tysmm <3

-⭐️ anon

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. You're back! Hello again! This one is definitely fluffier, just... maybe a touch of angst. If you squint.

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Zhongli

Has sooo many stories to tell

More than happy to talk until you fall asleep

Also reads you poetry from Mondstadt

When you’re apart he genuinely feels bad and wishes he could be with you

But once you’re together again he’ll tell you all about what you missed

Makes sure you know that you could wake him up in the middle of the night and he wouldn’t care

Your comfort is a top priority for him, don’t ever forget that

Al Haitham

Pretends to hate it

But it also really works out

He has to read grant requests and the like, and you want to hear his voice

Starts to use how fast you fall asleep as a ranking tool

Sure, the whole goal is for you to fall asleep

But sometimes they’re so good you want to hear more, so if you ask about it the next day he seriously considers approving it

Not even sure he realizes he does that, he just sees the paper the next day and thinks of you

If you fall asleep before the end of the first page, the author lost your attention and honestly he’s getting tired too

In the end, it’s no extra effort and even if it was he wouldn’t mind

Cyno

His work is classified so at first he has no idea what to talk about

At first he tells you about Cyrus, and his days in the Academia

One time he told you about how he met Collei

Then he ended up talking about Lisa, which led to him talking about Mondstadt

Eventually he realized he could just talk about TCG

You aren’t awake enough for him to tell you jokes, he also doesn’t want to make you laugh and keep you up

He’s away often, and it sucks

Sometimes he’s not even out of the city, but he gets home so ungodly late that staying up isn’t a good idea

Only Tighnari knows he’s trying to acquire a new Fontainian invention that allows you to record and replay audio

Xiao

The easiest person to be with for this

All you have to do is call his name and he’ll be there

At first he offers to play his flute

Surely that would be nicer than his voice

But you insist, and he’s at a loss for what to say

Ends up talking about the Yaksha

After that first night he asks Zhongli and the other Adepti for stories you might like

No matter where you are, call his name and he’ll tell you stories until you fall asleep

[aspd-culture]

I wish I had the stereotypical aspd that empaths talk about. The calculative and well groomed businessman who’s incredibly independent even at the cost of other people.

I’m honestly a useless loser. I don’t do anything for anybody yet am livid when they don’t do something for me, 80% of the time I forget or don’t do the tasks I’ve been asked to even if it’s the simplest thing. I pass it off to other people. I get threatened by my parents constantly, called useless and a lazy fuck. I’m not motivated for anything, not employed and the thought of it makes me want to rip my skin off or rip their faces off whenever they mention it. It feels like another extension of control. Everything feels like an extension of control and an excuse to assume power over me.

People in my life are moving ahead of me no problem and I’m still stuck on my ass debating whether to break everything in my parents house when they use my lack of employment and symptoms to make fun of me. My friends talk about it like it’s just so simple to suck it up and march forward and I loathe them for it because they don’t understand.

Maybe this is just me being a whiny brat or a bad person

No, this is you struggling with being in a toxic environment - one that will continue to make you feel like this for as long as your parents act that way towards you. It's not possible to heal and recover and learn to process your symptoms and change your behavior in a toxic situation like that. It's likely keeping you in survival mode.

Truly I think in that situation the best way to get yourself to do the things you would need to do to leave the toxic situation is out of spite. Spite can do a lot for pwASPD when we harness it to use for good, since our PD is so reactive to it. If you think to yourself as though you're talking to them "ha, yeah okay sure I'm getting a job just like you wanted right? Except I'm doing it to get the hell away from you", you might find yourself more able to get to do those things. It's not guaranteed to work, but it's something that might help.

And, if it makes you feel any better, prosocials don't actually like us in that stereotype either AND generally ppl who fit that stereotype are in some other way coping destructively. No one who actually has ASPD is managing to not struggle at all with it bc a disorder can only be diagnosed if it significantly and negatively impacts your life. It's important to remember the stereotypes of this demonized disorder are made out to be supervillains - hyper capable beings who choose to be monsters - bc otherwise the prosocials have to admit that they're bullying people who are hurt and wish we could stop dealing with our symptoms just as much as they wish we didn't have them if not more. It's not fun for them anymore if they think about our actual struggles with ASPD, so they try and make it sound like we're having the time of our lives when none of us do. I promise you're far from alone.

It's also worth noting that if you find yourself entirely unable to work without your mental health destructing, that that's called a disability and there are things you can do to either get accommodations or potentially payment for it bc unlike your parents by the sounds of it, the government understands that mental health is a valid reason one might not be able to work.

You're not a useless loser - you're a person with a disorder that is known to be potentially disabling who is being mistreated and stuck in a toxic environment - at least going by this post.

Plain text below the cut:

No, this is you struggling with being in a toxic environment - one that will continue to make you feel like this for as long as your parents act that way towards you. It's not possible to heal and recover and learn to process your symptoms and change your behavior in a toxic situation like that. It's likely keeping you in survival mode.

Truly I think in that situation the best way to get yourself to do the things you would need to do to leave the toxic situation is out of spite. Spite can do a lot for pwASPD when we harness it to use for good, since our PD is so reactive to it. If you think to yourself as though you're talking to them "ha, yeah okay sure I'm getting a job just like you wanted right? Except I'm doing it to get the hell away from you", you might find yourself more able to get to do those things. It's not guaranteed to work, but it's something that might help.

And, if it makes you feel any better, prosocials don't actually like us in that stereotype either AND generally ppl who fit that stereotype are in some other way coping destructively. No one who actually has ASPD is managing to not struggle at all with it bc a disorder can only be diagnosed if it significantly and negatively impacts your life. It's important to remember the stereotypes of this demonized disorder are made out to be supervillains - hyper capable beings who choose to be monsters - bc otherwise the prosocials have to admit that they're bullying people who are hurt and wish we could stop dealing with our symptoms just as much as they wish we didn't have them if not more. It's not fun for them anymore if they think about our actual struggles with ASPD, so they try and make it sound like we're having the time of our lives when none of us do. I promise you're far from alone.

It's also worth noting that if you find yourself entirely unable to work without your mental health destructing, that that's called a disability and there are things you can do to either get accommodations or potentially payment for it bc unlike your parents by the sounds of it, the government understands that mental health is a valid reason one might not be able to work.

You're not a useless loser - you're a person with a disorder that is known to be potentially disabling who is being mistreated and stuck in a toxic environment - at least going by this post.

[noisyghost]

End of the Line

[yaoiadderall]

genuinely how i feel sometimes

[theceaselessidiot]

underrated friendship duo, that would have been so cool to explore in the show but alas: Cressida and Simon. They actually have a lot in common:

1. They both had shitty, cold childhoods with a father who made them feel like they're disappointments. Simon had Lady Danbury and that is why he's warmer than Cressida, who only had her mother who is also toxic like her father, but they both know what parental neglect feels like

2. They both kept people at a distance, Simon by being a rake and also aloof, Cressida by being mean and cruel.

3. They both become obsessed with someone challenges them, but is also warm, Eloise and Daphne (ignoring the rapey stuff with Daphne)

4. edit bc @saintdollyparton made an excellent point: They're also both hot and tall and in love with a Bridgerton sister.

I would have loved to see them interact and actually be like 'oh we're similar, lets be friends" and Daphne and Eloise are both like "wtf??" but then they're like "ah you got adopted by this cat proceed"

[shinnyshining]

Nothing to see here, just two mad scientists in the same room

I kept my promise

[quentinfiletmignon]

RAMMSTEIN • 12.05.24 • LETŇANY AIRPORT, PRAGUE

[variousqueerthings]

the nature of being a johnny lawrence fan, is that it is often indistinguishable from being a johnny lawrence hater, and I don't think I have that with any other character. usually I'm very protective of my faves (including in cobra kai, daniel, sam, kreese, and tsilver), but johnny, I very much enjoy reading all the reasons people dislike his character, nodding along like "yeah what an inconsistent mess, you're so right, carmen pls u deserve better narrative to work with, terry silver was telling the truth when he mocked his fatherhood abilities, but alas the writing will never support it"