ισορροπία

indie ethan nakamura rp and ask blog II 18+ II mutual excl.

[counterpoiise]

counterpoiise

(v.) an equivalent power or force acting in opposition, a state of balance

rules - ask - about

Kronos blog: @drepanon

[mcflymemes]

THE MENU (2022) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

there is no way to avoid this mess.

tonight will be madness.

we have reached the base camp of mount bullshit.

it's a fucking taco, okay? it can't hurt you.

i guess i'm gonna have to make your decision for you.

please don't smoke.

you're fucking kidding, right?

tell me why you're here.

i want you to understand something. i am a monster.

tonight, everything i'm doing is pure.

i need to know if you're with us or with them.

you can tell us. are we all really dying tonight?

it doesn't work if you live.

those people are idiots.

i'll handle this. just let me handle this.

what the fuck are you saying?

does that make you feel better?

we work as a team.

i told you, you weren't leaving.

how many times have you eaten here in the last five years?

do you wanna know why you're being punished?

where did you go to school?

i'm pretty sure he doesn't even know about your existence.

you're paying him to serve you.

it doesn't really matter whether he likes you or not.

how'd you get out of there?

i'm the one that got away.

you entitled piece of shit!

i am perfectly capable of deciding when i eat, and what.

you haven't touched your food.

that is not what i meant, and you know it.

he's basically insulting you.

i've been stealing money from you.

here, we are family.

[name], do you want my life?

what do you need?

can i help you?

what the hell are these?

how did you get these?

i noticed you didn't ask his name.

what the fuck does it matter?

do you hear it? do you hear the silence?

do you know how fucked you are?

oh, no, that won't be necessary.

you aspire to greatness, but you'll never achieve it.

sorry. you're dying.

unfortunately, i think my eyes were a little bigger than my stomach.

can i get the rest to go?

i don't like your food.

what did you say?

you've taken the joy out of eating.

when i eat your food, it tastes like it was made with no love.

everyone knows love is the most important ingredient.

you're kidding yourself.

this is one of them.

your single purpose on this earth is to serve people food that they might actually like, and you have failed.

the worst part is, i'm still fucking hungry.

you've bored me.

you know my name?

how is it?

maybe there's a spare boat somewhere and we can get out of here.

that was a shock! i didn't see that coming!

you will eat less than you desire and more than you deserve.

you know what i'd really like? a cheeseburger.

please don't say mouthfeel.

thank you for dining with us tonight.

we must embrace the flame. we must be cleansed.

i love you all.

you told them it was my birthday?

it seemed funny about three hours ago.

now that... is a cheeseburger.

accept it. accept all of it.

why didn't you try harder to fight back?

[counterpoiise]

Inbox call!

[counterpoiise]

I remembered my login for this blog—

[leneemusing]

MISC SENTENCE STARTERS WITH A DASH OF ANGST

❝ i can't even say he deceived me. i knew exactly what he was and i jumped in anyway. ❞

❝ i think eventually i got so used to the chaos and the pain and the toxicity i began to look for it. ❞

❝ i never got a chance to discover myself. i never had that privilege. ❞

❝ you can tell me anything. i mean i can't promise i'm good at keeping secrets, but i'm a hell of a listener. ❞

❝ no one wants to yearn anymore. ❞

❝ i'm doing some of my best work here and you don't even have the decency to roll your eyes at me. honestly it's hurtful. ❞

❝ i know what you're thinking. ❞

❝ if i ask for your help are you gonna make a big deal out of it? ❞

❝ can we just be normal for like two seconds for once. ❞

❝ i would say i don't know what's wrong with you but i actually do and that's the problem. ❞

❝ against my better judgement i trust you and i think that says a lot about the state of the world right now. ❞

❝ i don't actually care but i'm bored so i'm here. ❞

❝ last time i listened to you we almost died. ❞

❝ i would've come sooner. i would've been here if you'd only asked. ❞

❝ i don't want to hurt anymore. ❞

❝ you don't have to hurt anymore. you can let go of those burdens. ❞

❝ it'd be a lot easier if i actually cared as little as i pretend to. ❞

❝ i do need you. i wouldn't be here if i didn't. ❞

❝ sometimes you don't know it's wrong until it's too late. sometimes you don't know you're being hurt until you realize you're in pieces. ❞

❝ pretending you don't need people doesn't make you strong it just makes you a jackass. ❞

❝ you're gonna be okay. eventually. but first you gotta not be okay for a while. it's gotta suck so you can actually recognize when you're alright again. ❞

❝ you shouldn't have said that. ❞

❝ sometimes i wish they had done something worse. then it'd justify how hard it's been to get over it. ❞

❝ i wish you actually understood me. ❞

[whinedarksea]

He definitely knows. "Well, the guitar's turned off," he says, because his sense of humor is and literally always has been terrible.

"That's right, the camp songs were the same for decades, if not hundreds of years, and then during the most epic battle since the Age of Heroes, we decided to change them, to mess with you."

Smiling slightly, Odysseus bends, plucks a few blades of grass himself, and idly braids them. He regards Ethan with a sideways look while he rambles off:

"'She'll Be Comin' Round Mount Olympus,' 'I'm Bringing Home My Baby Telekhine'... 'The Siren Song That Never Ends' is still a classic; please don't request it."

[counterpoiise]

Odysseus’s jokes unfortunately draw out soft laughter from Ethan, a fact which he finds to be mostly embarrassing. “Hey, I would be petty enough to switch up all the words on you, so I’m just checking. Anyway, did you guys seriously sing all those in, like, the seventies? ‘Cause if that’s true, then we have got to update our roster. I heard Percy’s updating the orientation process, so no one else has to watch that stupid video. Can’t be hard to pick out some modern music, while we’re at it.”

He watches Odysseus’s handiwork for a bit, before copying it, keeping his hands busy. “Which... Do we have to pick camp songs? What if I have a request that’s not one of those? I, uh… finally got to hear some mortal music while I was out.”

[holdfastdanae]

This would either be the worst day of Sally's life or the relief of 16 years of stress and horror coming to a close. Ever since Percy entered the Empire State Building things had turned into schrödinger's cat, her son both dead and alive at the same time until he sent his sign. The battle raged on and told her nothing, so she harnessed all of her anger and fear instead into shooting every enemy she saw. The bullets weren't bronze so despite her aim they weren't deadly but they made for a good distraction and for corralling them into better positions. As she shot another watching as the monster stayed corporeal she grimaced. It was still better than nothing.

From her peripheral she noticed a body being deposited not in the most graceful of manners by a pegasus that she was fairly positive was Blackjack. Her eyes fell to the gun in her hands realising the idea might be a bit absurd to someone stuck fighting like it was still the bronze age. "My husband is better with a sword." Sally replied not really having another answer as her attention immediately went to the grisly looking wound in his side.

With his dark hair for a moment an image of Percy flicked superimposed where he laid, a wounded noise escaping her as she firmly shoved it out of her mind. Schrödinger's cat. Dragging in a breath she fell to her knees to inspect the wound. "We're going to get you to somewhere safe. Alright? There's a medical set up you're going to be okay." She told the boy as soothingly as possible stroking his hair for a moment. "Deep breath I'm going to move you. One, two—" Sally put his arm over her shoulder and quickly stood back up.

[counterpoiise]

After everything he’d pledged to Kronos, after all of the promises of loyalty, the hours spent training, the conditioning he’d gone through to get used to the Titan’s ability to randomly pluck him from time and freeze him in place whenever he got pissed (which was often)...

After everything he’d pledged to Kronos, he’d thrown it all right back into his face, and the Titan hadn’t even bothered to kill him himself for it.

How cowardly. He couldn’t believe how angry he was about not being slain by Kronos’s hand—but he was. Did he seriously mean so little, after all? That his betrayal was little more than a glancing blow, that he could be waved off like an annoying gnat?

And Camp Half-Blood: all of this had begun because some campers just weren’t important enough to merit resources or attention, left to sleep on the floor of a crowded cabin they didn’t even belong to.

Gods, he sounded pathetic. It was likely the pain talking; his gut was killing him—probably literally, he realized grimly.

“Who’s your husband?” He mumbled, the touch to his hair making him slip his good eye shut. This woman seemed… kind. Kinder than what was typical, at the very least.

So, who the Hades was she, then? A minor goddess he didn’t know about? A dryad of some type? Few people from his world were kind on purpose, especially if they didn't think they’d get anything in return (they also didn't tend to carry shotguns).

He groaned hoarsely as they stood, and it was only by the white-hot ache searing through him distractingly, that Ethan didn’t start protesting until he could see kids in orange shirts performing field medicine in the distance.

“Wait—no, I can’t—don’t bring me there. They won’t want to help me.” He scowled, despite the effort such an expression took. Better to make himself look cruel than be humiliated when he was sent away. For good measure, he even tried to dig his heels in.

“I helped put some of those campers there.”

[washeartsbreaking]

tyler didn't participate much in the camp sponsored parties, but a bunch of the older campers had made their own for the festival of dionysus with less strict rules on what they could do. even here she stuck to the background, watching people in the flickering light of their campfire from the open bed of a pickup truck. she'd sent ethan for more wine when her first glass was empty. it was cheap and not particularly good or potent, but it was what a bunch of demigods with not a ton of disposable income could afford. she smiled when he came back, two cups in hand. "good boy," she praised, her fingers lingering over his as she took one of the plastic cups from him.

starter for @counterpoiise / ethan nakamura*

[counterpoiise]

Ethan was really not the drunken revelry type; he didn't often know what to do with his hands or his posture in a party setting, so mostly, he floated in the background. It grated on his attention span, making situations like these typically painfully boring.

But as it turned out, parties were marginally more entertaining when spent among company that actually spoke to him.

"Yeah, no pro—" Tyler's words took a second to register, but when they did, Ethan choked on the sip he took— a bad move considering how the wine burned his throat as it went down. "Woah, woah, woah. Back up. I am not a dog."

[leneemusing]

MISC SENTENCE STARTERS WITH A DASH OF ANGST

❝ i can't even say he deceived me. i knew exactly what he was and i jumped in anyway. ❞

❝ i think eventually i got so used to the chaos and the pain and the toxicity i began to look for it. ❞

❝ i never got a chance to discover myself. i never had that privilege. ❞

❝ you can tell me anything. i mean i can't promise i'm good at keeping secrets, but i'm a hell of a listener. ❞

❝ no one wants to yearn anymore. ❞

❝ i'm doing some of my best work here and you don't even have the decency to roll your eyes at me. honestly it's hurtful. ❞

❝ i know what you're thinking. ❞

❝ if i ask for your help are you gonna make a big deal out of it? ❞

❝ can we just be normal for like two seconds for once. ❞

❝ i would say i don't know what's wrong with you but i actually do and that's the problem. ❞

❝ against my better judgement i trust you and i think that says a lot about the state of the world right now. ❞

❝ i don't actually care but i'm bored so i'm here. ❞

❝ last time i listened to you we almost died. ❞

❝ i would've come sooner. i would've been here if you'd only asked. ❞

❝ i don't want to hurt anymore. ❞

❝ you don't have to hurt anymore. you can let go of those burdens. ❞

❝ it'd be a lot easier if i actually cared as little as i pretend to. ❞

❝ i do need you. i wouldn't be here if i didn't. ❞

❝ sometimes you don't know it's wrong until it's too late. sometimes you don't know you're being hurt until you realize you're in pieces. ❞

❝ pretending you don't need people doesn't make you strong it just makes you a jackass. ❞

❝ you're gonna be okay. eventually. but first you gotta not be okay for a while. it's gotta suck so you can actually recognize when you're alright again. ❞

❝ you shouldn't have said that. ❞

❝ sometimes i wish they had done something worse. then it'd justify how hard it's been to get over it. ❞

❝ i wish you actually understood me. ❞

[counterpoiise]

Instead of loopholes for the laws to fall between Let some good old fashioned payback Grease the wheels of the machine [...] We owe them some justice

[counterpoiise]

what was ethan's childhood like?

Get Emo, North! II Inbox: Open

Soft. Warm. But his dad wasn’t around as much as he’d have liked. Breakfasts were the best part of the day because they always had those together. 

He was well-behaved in school. His grades weren’t necessarily the best, but he didn’t hate school; if he’d have continued in the school system, he probably would have come to resent it, but kindergarten wasn’t so bad. His drawings were magnetized to the fridge, and his solar system diorama was kept in his dad’s study. 

He hated having to go clothes shopping, and he would scream bloody murder if he got soap in his eyes in the bath. He liked playing battleship with his dad on the rare occasion he had time to. 

Ethan’s dad started to teach him Japanese alongside English, but no one at camp could speak Japanese well enough to teach him; he didn’t ask, either, and so now, he’s forgotten most of it. Now that the war is over, maybe he’ll have time to learn. 

He was a fairly small child, but he didn’t lose his baby fat until he was at camp. He used to laugh loud and unashamedly. He would get embarrassed if his teachers caught him whispering to his classmates instead of doing school work. He would apologize during a free period. He struggled with reading, but he liked when the teachers read to the class. He most often slept during free reading hours. 

He was a fairly outdoorsy kid; he spent most of his time playing in the yard or the neighborhood. He liked swimming. He never learned how to ride his bike without the training wheels. He once got in trouble with a neighbor’s family for punching a peer, but his dad forgave him when he found out that it was because the peer was being a bully. He bandaged up Ethan’s hand and not-very-sternly told him not to do something like that again unless his life was threatened. Kid Ethan certainly didn’t miss the prideful gleam in his dad’s eyes that day, nor the poorly hidden amusement tugging at his lips. 

The first time a monster bothered Ethan, he was six, and he was at recess. A karpoi tried to take him away via the grass, but he remembered what his dad said about his life being threatened, so he punched it as hard as he could. It took a few tries, but eventually, the monster dissolved into cereal. His teachers found him snacking on the cereal out of bounds of the playground, so he was scolded for venturing too far. They wrote off his story about being carried as him being a playing child. 

Ethan told his dad about it, and that night, Ethan could hear him talking to a woman in a hushed tone. He never found out who it was, so he assumed it was one of his teachers on speaker phone. 

A few months later, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Mr. Nakamura took Ethan on a hike nearby to their house. It wasn’t a long one, but Ethan, even at freshly seven, was able to outpace his father. 

Mr. Nakamura would reach an overlook where Ethan was nearing a cliff’s edge, reaching for what appeared to be an eagle, which looked equal parts out of range of his son's hand, and ready to attack him at a moment’s notice. He ran over and grabbed his son, and he didn’t put Ethan down until they’d made it back to the parking lot. Ethan was disappointed– he’d seen a griffin, like in his story books! He was just going to pet it, honest! His father didn’t mean to use such a harsh tone when telling Ethan that what he’d done was dangerous and unacceptable, so when he noticed that Ethan was teary, he apologized, and they went for ice cream. Ethan bounced back quickly. 

That night, he heard the woman’s voice again. Whatever they were talking about, it sounded emotional and tense. His dad sounded like he was crying this time, so Ethan got out of bed to go and comfort him. 

When he arrived in his dad’s room, there was no one there but him. 

Then his dad did something he hadn’t done in a long time: he let Ethan sleep in his bed with him, cuddled up under one of his arms. Ethan fell asleep, content, but when he woke up, it looked like his dad hadn’t slept a wink. 

That’s when he told Ethan about camp, and that it was time to pack for it. 

His childhood was soft. Warm. Golden and hazy. But his dad wasn’t around as much as Ethan would have liked– and then he was gone from his life completely, becoming a collection of letters that ended when Ethan’s loyalty to camp did.

[counterpoiise]

what are some of ethan's guilty pleasures? what are some things / experiences / activities he would love to do but hasn't yet?

Promptless II Inbox: Open

He doesn’t have any currently. But if he allows himself to dream, Ethan thinks of: 

Going to a live music show

Seeing a movie in theaters

Rock climbing somewhere beautiful

Touring the Supreme Court building in D.C.

Coming back to Olympus to appreciate it, this time. To see his mother’s seat

Having a snowball fight

Going to Coney Island

Taking one night to go out into the city and stay out as long as he can, then sleeping in the next day (for once)

Playing on a playground

Eating a funnel cake

Dressing up for Halloween

Going on a quest for camp

[counterpoiise]

what does anger feel like to ethan? how does he carry it? how does he express and cope with anger?

Promptless II Inbox: Open

His anger is overwhelming. It demands that Ethan feel it, use it. It does not fade easily. Sometimes, it boils over, but mostly, it simmers. It sits and festers and builds up, then overshadows most other emotions when something triggers it. He carries it in his chest and arms, and into the weapons he uses as extensions of himself. They are tools for his anger to transform into vengeance; righteous revenge that he is duty-bound to exact. Gods help the person who crosses Ethan when he wears his mother’s anger, and tenfold to the person who hurts the few people Ethan loves. But make no mistake, Ethan will avenge small injustices as well, even that of strangers. 

His anger is action. It is a symptom of who he is, who his mother is. It is inescapable and familiar. 

[whinedarksea]

The bonfires seem smaller, these days. The fire itself is subdued, a low crackle where it should be a blaze, the flames deep red-violet. And too many missing faces, though this is nothing new to Odysseus.

But there are a few new faces too. Or, rather, old faces—older than they were, both familiar and unfamiliar. He does a few rounds before he gets started, something he didn't often do before, just to see who made it. And who didn't, though he's still sitting on the information.

If there's ever a surefire way to get a teenager to clam up, it's to comment on how long it's been since you saw them around. It has been quite a few years, but Ethan is, basically, still a teenager. Still playing swords with blades of grass.

With his guitar slung around his back, Odysseus sits next to him. His posture leans forward, as if he's not planning to linger here too long.

"I'd ask for any requests, but you never did sing along much, did you?"

[counterpoiise]

Oh, gods. Ethan straightens his posture, his ears going red as he drops the blade of grass in a poor attempt to recover some of his dignity. “Y’know, for a guy with a guitar, you’re pretty quiet when you’re coming up on someone unexpectedly.” It’s an accusation further borne from his embarrassment; he doesn’t really mind that the counselor’s come to say hello. 

If he’s being honest with himself, in fact, he’s sort of… happy about it. But he definitely can’t say that out loud. 

“With my pipes? Trust me, no one wants me to sing.” He’s giving a different excuse for it, but he certainly believes the second part is true. “Besides, you guys probably changed up all the words on me, or something. Are there any songs on your list I’d recognize anymore?”

[folkorae]

They were finally at peace, no more titans trying to conquer or destroy the world. The campers needed a very much appreciated break after everything that happened during the battle of Manhattan, but they are still collecting the pieces from it. So much was lost ;  friends, allies, lovers, family. Some of them are alive, barely, and they would forever grieve the dead. Annabeth was recovering from it herself    —   or at least trying to, because how does someone deal with the death of a very important person ?  Luke was always more than just a camper to her. He was like an old brother, her mentor, the family she always wanted. But he was gone now and it looked like the daughter of Athena still had tears to shed for him. She hears someone approaching and she quickly clears her tears.   ❝ Why aren’t you with the others ? ❞

@counterpoiise / starter.

[counterpoiise]

Ethan Nakamura’s a traitor. Ethan Nakamura’s a hero. Ethan Nakamura’s an asshole; Ethan Nakamura’s a killer. There’s a million things to call him, and very few of them are kind, which is fair enough. (Though, for some reason, Percy Jackson has been making an effort to only point out the good the son of Nemesis did in the end, same as he’s doing for Silena). Of course, he knows it’s a lost cause. Ethan’s a not-insignificant part of why so many campers are grieving their siblings, and in his book, that means they have every right to jeer at him. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t grow tired of it, sometimes, and that evening, he’s definitely not in the mood to stand on the outskirts of more funeral pyres, being glared at through tears. 

So, he figures it’s best for everyone’s peace that he stay away for now. Besides, between Argus’s reluctance to let him leave the Big House often, and the wrath of the healers he’ll incur if he pops his stitches, walking all the way to the amphitheater might not be advisable tonight. 

Still, he’ll go stir-crazy if he can’t walk at least a little, so knowing that he’s being watched from the Big House, he takes a short stroll, not expecting in the slightest to run into anyone– much less the girl he’d almost killed on the Williamsburg bridge.

He flinches and tries to back away, but she notices him before he can– and he should have known she would; she’s Annabeth Chase, a prodigal genius. Of course she caught him. 

“Uh… It’s not really… fair. Y’know?” He doesn’t know why he’s compelled to be so honest so quickly with her, but it’s probably the guilt. “They don’t need to see an enemy’s face while they’re grieving. You definitely don’t.” He explains. It’s a thinly veiled attempt to run away, but he doesn’t think she’ll mind his lack of subtlety.

[counterpoiise]

cont. II @wisteriagrcve

“Yeah, that’s what I–” Ethan paused, thrown off-guard by what was clearly supposed to be threatening, but definitely… wasn’t. “Pr–” He cleared his throat, ignoring the way his ears reddened. 

“This pretty boy’s got pre-tty good luck, you know. I don’t have to beat you. I just have to outrun you. Right?” 

With that, he feinted to the right and took off to the left, hurling his helmet behind him to try and trip up the other camper. Run like your life depends on it, Nakamura. Ares kids weren’t all brawn; they were physically capable like Ethan wasn’t, necessarily. That was, he was good, but he wasn’t Ares-kid good. 

He glanced over his shoulder, and only after he did so, did he realize his mistake. Never look backward while you’re running away, dummy! 

“Come on, man, you know I won’t win in single combat with you!” He yelled over his shoulder as he lost ground. Despite himself, he was grinning, as though he was having the time of his life.

[counterpoiise]

choose a font that most closely resembles your muse's handwriting from here, and write their name!

I couldn't decide, because Ethan's handwriting is a combination of these two. The first one is good because it's messy and the letters run together, and the second one is good because it's hastily scrawled and the right amount of blocky and harsh. (If I had to choose, the second one is closer to what I had in mind, but it needs the first one's disorganization).

Ethan's handwriting is difficult to read; he runs letters against each other, he presses his pencil a little too hard into the paper, and he scrawls fast and recklessly. I would probably italicize the first font and close the gaps between letters just a teensy bit more, and I would want the second to be messier and less pretty.

The only person who's ever been able to read Ethan's handwriting reliably is his dad, with whom he used to write letters while at camp.

tagged by: stole it from @morteuse tagging: @xaglaophonosx @mistforms @badboysupr @nosestealer @heartsbreaking (maeve!) and you!