#E!Odysseus: FOR A YEAR???? DID THEY NEED TO REST FOR A YEAR??? AND DID THEY NEED THAT REST RIGHT AFTER A MONTH’S LONG REST WITH AEOLUS??? S

[witless-winion1]

Ugh…

Another deep, chesty cough rattled Eurylochus, and he muffled the sound into his hand more out of habit then anything as his hammock trembled with him. 

He very rarely got sick. He’d had a strong immune system from a young age, and tended to fall ill less often than either of his friends. Odysseus suffered his yearly miseries, Polites smiled sheepishly through messy colds, but Eurylochus stood strong and cared for them both, forced Odysseus to take breaks from his training and Polites to slow down and take his health seriously.  And he himself had been blessed enough to stand strong through the illnesses, those severe and mildly annoying, that swept through the crew and camps throughout their war and sailing. 

After several years of being impenetrable, however…

Another chill ran down his spine, and he shuddered, drawing the thick blanket Odysseus had forced upon him closer. 

“The men can come to me if they need anything. You play a vital role on our ship, Eury, but it will not stop sailing if you take time off to rest,” the captain had said, pushing him down into his hammock. 

“But-”

“I saw the way you almost walked into that door. You’re staying down here.”

Regardless, it wasn’t until Odysseus had brandished a coil of rope and threatened to put his knot-making skills to good use that Eurylochus had surrendered. 

And so here he was, down in the empty crew’s quarters in the belly of the ship. He could hear the men walking around above his head, going about daily tasks and chores. And the ship was still indeed sailing, rocking gently from side to side in a way that was making his eyes droop, providing a small distraction from his aching head. 

He shifted his arms in a last attempt to get comfortable, succeeding enough to relax. 

Back and forth, back and forth…

“E-Eurylochus, sir?”

The second-in-command groaned softly, opening his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he’d properly fallen asleep, but either way, he was awake now. He turned his head to see Nets, lingering in the doorway. 

“Apologies, I know you’re resting. Just a quick question- where’s the extra olive oil kept? Karalos used up the last of it this morning for breakfast.”

Why didn’t they ask Sofoklis or Stelios? Eurylochus wondered, but his throat felt too raw to waste words on scolding the younger man. “Should be in the storage space under the stairs. Starboard side.”

Nets nodded appreciatively. “Thanks, sir. Feel better soon,” he mumbled quickly, and ducked out, leaving Eurylochus to relative silence once more. 

“Eurylochus.” 

He had no idea how long it had been since Nets left, but it couldn’t have been more than an hour. He cracked his eyes open just wide enough let light in, and turned his heavy head to see Vlassis, managing to grunt out a rough “what?”

“Who’s on watch duty for tonight? Me or Charis? He’s trying to convince me that it’s my turn.” 

Eurylochus groaned softly. “Charis.”

Vlassis pumped his fist. “Lying bastard, I knew it.”

“Get out.”

“Yes sir.” Vlassis hastened to leave, a satisfied grin on his face. 

“Hey. Hey, epauletes.” An ungentle hand shook his shoulder, stirring his restless sleep. “Aeson’s asking if we’re taking any stops by land. Says we need preparation to dock now if we’re gonna stock up on anything.”

Eurylochus didn’t even bother attempting to open his eyes, or recognize the voice. “…r..repeat that?” 

The crewmate, what must have been the fifth in the past few hours, repeated the question. 

“Uh…no. Confirm with Odysseus to…” he paused to regain his breath, almost surprised at how easily he had lost it. “…to..confirm.”

The crewmate did nothing but snort at his clumsily finished sentence and leave. 

His entire body felt so warm. He had always been a warm person; Odysseus and Polites often told him so in their younger days when taking advantage of the fact. But now he actually felt it, to a torturous degree. Trapped in his hammock and sweating what must have been absurd amounts, too exhausted and heavy to try to wrestle his way out. He wasn’t one for devotion to the gods, but he found himself praying to Apollo, to at least let him sleep. Perhaps she should have been praying to Hypnos? Or both?  He didn’t think he had the energy for both. 

A cool hand touched his head, lingering by his temples, and his face scrunched weakly. Another bother, another useless question someone else could have answered. He would die for the crew, every man he was responsible for, but he found himself summoning all his strength to force out a crackly “fuck off.”

There was a pause. The hand did not leave. Instead, it pressed more firmly on his forehead. “Hey, it’s just me, my friend. Checking on you.”

The worry and surprise felt out of place in the tone. Eurylochus winced as he dragged his eyes open. A hazy man stood over him, tan skin and a strip of bright red.

“No…more foolish questions, from anyone,” he grunted weakly. “Let me…rest, for gods’ sake..”

There was a pause of silence, then he felt something press to his lips, and before he could process what it was there was cool liquid sliding down his throat. He took it gladly, and would have downed the whole ocean without drawing breath if it weren’t for his visitor pacing him. When it was finished, he was aware of the rattly sound of him drawing in breath, then nothing more than darkness and soft murmuring. 

Blissful, quiet oblivion surrounded him, phasing him between odd fever dreams and aching pains of his flesh. The latter gradually eased, much-needed sleep healing him, one deep, tired breath at a time. 

After a long time, he felt himself come to, still swinging in the same hammock. Something cool and damp was wiping across his forehead. 

“Hey. You awake?” A voice prompted him to open his eyes, a much easier task then it had been a few hours prior. Eurylochus’ weary gaze focused upon his brother, standing over him with a tired but calming expression. 

“Captain…”

“‘Ody’ when you’re off duty,” was the gentle reprimand. “Especially when you’re in this state.” An offer of water was tapped against his lips, and he nodded. As he drank, he listened to Odysseus’ ever-smooth words. 

“I’ll admit, I was starting to get worried when a report of you being worse off came after lunch. But you’ve improved since. Thank gods for Polites, he’ll save all our souls.” 

Eurylochus hummed, satisfied with his refreshed throat. “…Polites?”

Odysseus nodded. “He was the one that checked on you, and discovered that apparently, the men were still coming to you on your sickbed with their inquiries. I suppose I didn’t make it clear enough that they were to bring their issues to me. But he’s been standing guard at the door to the crew’s quarters, defending you from any more ‘foolish questions’ so you could rest and glaring at anyone that attempts to disturb you. He almost turned me away.”

Eurylochus’ brow furrowed as he slowly processed the information. Polites glaring at anyone, let alone a fellow crewmate, let alone Odysseus…a strange notion.

“…I see,” he finally murmured, his head falling backwards. “Give him my thanks, would you?”

If he reached back into his foggy memory, he could faintly recall snapping at someone with a red headband. It was so like Polites, to take another’s grumpiness and return it with kindness. Eurylochus would have to find a way to properly show his gratitude. Perhaps he would ask Karalos to make Polites’ favorite meal when he was recovered. 

Odysseus smiled, turning aside to pick up a tray of what seemed to be boiled lentils and a bit of wine. “Yes, I will. And don’t worry, I’ll make double-sure the men leave you alone until you’re better, yes? We need our epauletes back.”

Eurylochus could not help the small reciprocated smile crossing his lips. “Yes, sir…” 

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met

[minette-darling]

Waves of Ithaca

Prologue

The halls of the Ithaca Palace glimmered under the morning light, with the sun giving warmth to its bricks. A soft echo of laughter fills the open courtyard, belonging to a child- so high and bright. A little girl, no older than three, dashes across the stone floors barefooted. Her hair bouncing wildly as she ran.

"Come here, my little naiad!” Odysseus called out, as he catched her before swooping down to lift his daughter into his arms. She squealed as he spun her around, her small fingers gripping his tunic.

“Father!” she cried between giggles. “Put me down!”. Odysseus only laughed, holding her close. "Not until you promise me you won’t run away from your old father so fast next time.” This only makes her giggle more, as she jokingly pushes her father's face away.

Penelope approached, watching them with a quiet smile. She was young still, her beauty unwearied by time, her gentle hands carrying a wreath of woven olive leaves. “Our daughter is swift as the sea breeze,” she mused. “Perhaps Poseidon himself blessed her feet.”

At those words, Odysseus’ eyes twinkled with mischief. “Shall we ask him?” He carried the child to the courtyard’s sacred spring, where the clear water bubbled up from the earth, a gift from the gods. Kneeling, he placed his daughter’s tiny feet upon the cool stones, letting her toes dip into the water. Her (e/c) eyes looks on in confusion before turning to her father, anticipating what will happen next.

“Lord of the sea,” Odysseus murmured, his voice half-serious, half-playful, “if you have given my daughter the swiftness of the waves, grant her safe passage through life’s storms, that she may never be lost to the tide.”

Soon the wind stirred around them, accompanied by the rustling of the olive trees. The water rippled unnaturally, curling around the child’s feet like an embrace. She looked up, her wide eyes reflecting the golden sky, unafraid.

“Did you see that, Mother?” she whispered, her voice filled with a wonderous curiosity.

Penelope knelt beside them, touching her daughter’s damp foot. “Poseidon listens,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The young princess looks back at her feet beneath the water. She did not know what it meant to be blessed by a god—but she felt something stir in her chest, something powerful.

Odysseus placed a hand over small head. “Do you feel it?” he asked.

She nodded. “It feels like the sea is inside me.”

He smiled. “Good.”

A year has passed since that day. During one evening, Odysseus sat beside his daughter in the megaron, the great hall where the fire burned low. Humming an old sailor's tune, with his daughter humming along. It would soon be broken by a question.

“Father?” she asked sleepily. “Why has Mother’s belly grown round?”

Odysseus chuckled. “Because you’re going to have a little brother, my little naiad.”

The girl’s face lit up with curiosity, the drowsiness she felt has dissipated. “A brother?”

“Yes.” He brushed a stray curl from her forehead. “A small, wailing thing, but we’ll love him all the same.”, he added with a soft chuckle.

She considered this, pursing her lips. “Will he be strong?”

“That will depend on the heart he carries.”

“Will he love the sea like you and I?”

Odysseus smiled. “Perhaps. But he will need someone to teach him—someone swift as the waves, clever as the gulls.”

She sat up proudly. “I’ll teach him.”, she proudly declared with her eyes lit with determination.

Penelope, reclining nearby, watched them with a hand resting on her belly. “Then he shall be lucky indeed,” she murmured, eyes glistening in the firelight.

Telemachus was only weeks old when Odysseus carried him to the sacred grove of Athena, basking in the golden light of late afternoon, the old olive trees swaying gently in the breeze. The scent of earth and sea salt combined, filling the air- the very essence of Ithaca. Odysseus walked ahead, his newborn son cradled in his arms, swaddled in soft linen. Beside him, Penelope held their daughter’s small hand, guiding her carefully over the roots that curled up from the ground.

“Are we really going to meet the goddess?” the little girl whispered, peering up at her mother.

Penelope smiled. “Not quite, my love. But this is her place, and your father wants to introduce your brother to her.”

“She is my guide, my shield in battle, and she will watch over him too.” Odysseus adds, the infant cradled in his arms.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she clutched her mother’s hand a little tighter.

When they reached the heart of the grove, the great olive tree standing tall above them, Athena was there, just as they had known she would be. She was a figure of calm, her presence as natural as the wind, her grey eyes bright with warmth. The goddess looked behind, her composure as stoic and tall as ever, but there was a flicker of softness once her eyes landed on the infant that Odysseus carried.

She smiled softly as Odysseus approached, still holding the swaddled infant close to his chest. No words were spoken, only the sound of rustling leaves and the faint movement of the waves, as she walked closer to the father and son.

The goddess bent down to meet the infant's gaze, her grey eyes softening. Telemachus slowly blinked up at her, and with a delicate movement, his tiny fingers curled around Athena’s outstretched hand. A gentle, almost unnoticeable wave of energy passed between them, a moment of silent understanding shared.

"He's a strong one," Athena said, her voice breaks the silence. “I can see it already.”

Odysseus grinned, ruffling his son's head. “I’m counting on you to guide him when the time comes, just as you’ve guided me.”

Athena chuckled, standing tall once more. “He’ll need more than guidance. He’ll need heart, and that I can see he has. You and Penelope did well.”

Odysseus smiled, pressing a hand to his son’s small chest. “He will be watched over.”

As he bid his farewell to the goddess, his daughter reached out, her tiny fingers brushing against her brother’s. “I will watch over him too,” she vowed, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Odysseus looked at her, pride swelling in his chest. He placed a hand on her head, feeling the warmth of her presence, along with the weight of her promise.

“You will, my daughter,” he said. “And he will be all the stronger for it.”

The trees swayed gently, and far above them, the owl of Athena watched.

The harbor of Ithaca was alive with movement—sailors loading supplies, warriors sharpening blades, banners snapping in the wind. Odysseus stood at the bow of his ship, dressed in bronze armor, his sword fastened at his side.

On the shore, Penelope stood tall, her face calm yet the sorrow in her eyes spoke differently. Their daughter clung to the hem of her mother’s robe, her hands curled into fists.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Odysseus knelt before her, his heart aching. “I must, little one. There is a war to fight.”

“But what if you don’t come back?”

"I promise I will, but until then, you have to be strong. Can you do that, my little naiad?", he reassured her.

Tears soon welled in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She straightened her back, just as he had taught her. “I will be strong,” she promised, her voice though still shaky- is more stern than before.

He smiled. “I know you will." , before he leaned down to leave a kiss on her forehead.

As he stepped onto the ship, he looked back one last time—at his wife, his son in her arms, and his daughter standing beside her, the sea breeze lifting her hair.

And then, with the wind at his back, he sailed away.

AN: i finally locked in for this one. can you spot my daddy and mommy issues? :"DD i still don't know where i am going with this story, and who the love interest will be- but we'll get there eventually. the part where odysseus introduces telemachus is inspired by gigi's animatic!

[aprilshifts111]

So ducklings... I recently discovered TGCF...

Potential Spoilers!

And by that I mean I watched every meme, animatic and Danny Motta reaction instead of actually watching it because I don't have the Novels, I only got up to Chapter 11 of the Audiobook on YouTube... I'm too broke to pay for CrunchyRoll... But luckily, I understand some of the characters and plot and let me just say this...

I. Love. Hualian!!!! THEY'RE SO CUTE AND WHOLESOME AND AHHHHH

I love Xie Lian, one of my favourite Characters and I will defend him with my life because he's too sweet, kind and such a Badass and I like that in an MC.

Hua Cheng/San Lang/Crimson Rain Sought Flower... He's the best love interest... Waited 800 YEARS to be with the same Martial God that saved him from falling, Odysseus from EPIC would love this guy. Nothing else to say, he's handsome, love his outfit, colour palette and he reminds me of Howl from Howls Moving Castle, don't know why or how because I having even watched it 🤷🏿‍♀️... Also, I've heard from like 2-3 people who said Hua Cheng is left-handed due to poor calligraphy skills apparently and as a left-handed person myself, I sure hope so because I haven't seen any other left handed representation yet and that would make me feel better 👍🏿

He also gives off major Hawk Moth from Miraculous vibes but only because of the Silver Butterflies... He's Hawk Moth/Gabriel Agreste done right. Yes I said it

No but tell me why I just found out that HC tore out his eye to make the sword, E-ming?? And now I can't even feel same... Especially not with Xie Lian petting the Sword💀Like, I was just researching because one of the Characters in one of my books has an eyepatch and I wanted to figure out the backstory... Rest assured I will NOT be using that for my Character-having-eyepatch backstory ☠️☠️💀💀

My absolute favourite Character... Is the Wind Master, Shi Qingxuan... Do I even need to explain why? He's such a diva and I love his Female form. Gets scraped in the cheek by a flying arrow and instantly acts in 'self defense' because they messed with his pale face... Honestly slay 👍🏿✨ he's majestic and silly at the same time

Qi Rong... Idk, I do like his creative insults though, he is spitting bars... He gives off major Joker vibes mixed with the Riddler 🤷🏿‍♀️👍🏿

Again, nothing much else to say but I love the Fanart and this Fandom sounds nice to be in... Also, Fuck Censorship! Yeah, I'm with you guys. I watched the Short film with the underwater Kiss... I didn't even KNOW that was a supposed to be a kiss until the comments, also the Short Film with the Lantern thing.. Again, did not know HC asking Xie Lian if he was tired from walking was a link to them doing the Devil's Tango, if you know what I mean. They're super sweet and made for each other 🫶🏿❤️

I'm still sort of new here, I mean, I'm just here because of an EPIC the Musical short I watched with Hualian in it and I do know a little about the Author and the fact she wrote Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation but that's only because I had a friend in school who owned the Novel series and she showed me some of the pages but I didn't do anything more 👍🏿🤷🏿‍♀️

I love it though and I'm rooting for this ✊🏿

[genovakaysani]

I gotta say it I’M SORRY

“Not Sorry for Loving You” is the one song in the entirety of Epic that I just…don’t like.

It doesn’t narratively feel right with the mood of the rest of the saga for starters, and even more so, Calypso DOES NOT NEED A SOLO SONG HERE (I love you sm wangui I promise)

We could have a full duet! We could have a conflicted Odysseus building the raft and arguing with her about what was real in the relationship (her control/power over him) and what was not (their entire “relationship”)

“Oh but she’s just a doomed goddess she doesn’t know right from wrong” NO SHE IS A FREE THINKER AND A G O D D E S S!! Don’t downplay her ability to understand keeping a HAPPILY MARRIED MAN WHO REPEATEDLY SAYS NO UNDER HER CONTROL FOR SEVEN YEARS IS A BAD MOVE

Odysseus should have argued with her the way he did when he arrived to the island! Maybe a callback to Love in Paradise?? Either way, HE SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING!! OTHER THAN HIS LINE ABOUT LOVING HER (thought it felt Stockholm Syndrome there to me so that part fit ig)

Either way, Not Sorry for Loving You is the first song in the entirety of Epic that I believe is skippable. You can just skip to Dangerous and you’d know the gist.

[larrikinisahimbo]

My friend reading The Song of Achilles: A Journey

Aight let's get this over with

2 pages in and already daddy issues and a drunk mom

I'm not gonna survive this book

No but like already this asshole is hating on both his son and mentally ill wife

Dude this guy is an idiot

I relate so hard to Patroclus

Baby's first murder

Oh Oh So this is how it is

Aw, they're so cute

Holy shit she just straight up told Patroclus he'll be dead soon

They kissed 💙

Oh shit

I'm really into this book so far Chiron is the real MVP so far

I couldn't stop smiling They are so cute

I was a little bit shocked Cause I just finished the part where they were, um, making out

I'm just happy they were happy Not for long tho, that's why I only read a few pages at a time I want happiness to last as long as it can

Achilles said the reason he will be both a hero and happy is Patroclus and I asdfghj

HE CALLED HIMSELF THE SON OF CHIRON I'M IN SHAMBLES

Yo I am in shock Absolutely dumbfounded Completely shattered

"I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world." Yo my fucking heart I can't take this

Lycomedes is also an MVP

I had Odysseus and Diomedes for only one page, but I love their dynamic already

Sneaky bitches

"Why should I kill him? He's done nothing to me." When I tell you my heart fell

"I did not plan to live after he was gone" P L E A S E

I'm at the point where there's no wind

So I assume they'll sacrifice Iphigenia

Wow I don't know how to feel about Odysseus anymore

Page 235, the war actually started

If I was in Achilles' place, I would've let the mob slash Agamemnon to smitherins

You know I would totally be down with a poly relationship between Pat, Achilles and Briseis

Agamemnon, you stupid fucking bitch

Now they're taking away Briseis

And I'm this close to just use all my rage to travel through time and space and everything to fucking bitch slap Agamemnon so hard he lands on the other side of the Trojan wall

Pat casually slit his wrist in front of Agamemnon

Buddy That was a bit dramatic

But he is 100% rightfully pissed at Achilles at this moment

Y I K E S This conversation is going to hurt me more than the knife did Patroclus' wrist

I'm getting nervous

ACHILLES WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WHAT DO YOU MEAN "Don't say that until you've heard the rest of what I've done"

Achilles, honey, I love you so much, but asking your mom to ask Zeus to turn against your side of the army out of pettiness is a biiiiiit too much

"HE'S HALF OF MY SOUL, AS THE POETS SAY" I CAN'T

We're getting close to the moment I fear They are at the duels or I don't know what they're called in English Paris disappeared from the battlefield, now Ajax and Hector ended in a tie

It's so sad reading Patroclus' reactions How he said he knows the victims, or, well, knew That line hit hard honestly

ACHILLES P L E A S E

PAT IS CRYING AND I'M LITERALLY MOMENTS AWAY FROM CRYING TOO

NOT THE OUTFIT SWAP

I'M MILDLY SHAKING

APOLLO YOU BITCH

NOOOOOOOOOOO He's dead And I know it only gets worse from here

HE TRIES TO KILL HIMSELF KC

Briseis, honey, I know you're upset too, but now is not the time Just because you're partially right

I don't want to call Thetis a bitch Because I partially understand her feelings and Who am I kidding She's a B I T C H

I'M ABOUT TO THROW HANDS WITH A 12 YEAR OKD

BRISEIS NOOOOOOOOOOO

LITTLE FUCKER IS DEAD 🍾

"I am made of memories" P L E A S E

I'm not fine

"Go," She says. "He waits for you." In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun. I am Devastated Absolutely hurt Everything is pain But they're together Finally I need a few hours after this What a way to end the year

[pyrrhiccomedy]

It’s Friday night baby and we are blogging about Troy.

Let me ask you a question. What is Troy (2004) about?

Sometimes I see people having really unproductive, cross-talky conversations about what “themes” are, and how they differ from “subtext” or a work’s “message.” so I want to approach those words carefully in this chapter of our unrelenting examination of Troy.

An uncritical viewer might say, “Troy is about the Trojan War.”

But no, Troy depicts the events of the Trojan War. If Troy were about the Trojan War, it would be a documentary.

Well, then, they might say: “Troy is about Achilles and Hector, and kind of Paris and Helen, and the things they felt and did during the war that claimed their lives / destroyed their city.”

But that’s actually just the same as saying Troy is about the Trojan War. If Troy were purely about conveying the actions and emotions of these people, without any artistic interpretation, it would be a biopic.

“Well of course there’s an artistic interpretation. We don’t KNOW what any of these people thought or felt, or even if they existed in the first place. The writers had to make up stuff for them to say, and events to carry them from scene to scene.”

I agree. So why did they make up those things? Why those lines? Why those events, and not different ones?

“Because they liked them?”

You know what. You know what, friend? I think that’s exactly what happened in Troy.

e x a c t l y

this is a sweeping statement, but it’s 12:30 AM and I’ve had three margaritas tonight, so fuck it, I’m prepared to make some generalizations that might land me in hot water in the morning: the difference between a good story and a bad story often comes down to how much stuff is in there because the storytellers liked it, versus how much is there because it advances the story.

I just re-watched Gladiator, a movie Troy desperately wishes it was. Gladiator is, of course, a very good movie. And what really struck me, on re-watching it, especially after thinking about Troy for 3 whole days out of my one and only life, is that every shot - not every scene, every shot - of Gladiator has a point to make.

This is not the case with Troy.

For example: when Gladiator cuts to Lucilla after Marcus Aurelius has been killed, and Commodus demands Maximus’s loyalty while Maximus is still processing the emperor’s death, you see her tip her head: her eyes widen, and she angles herself towards Maximus. Commodus has made his move too quickly: Maximus is going to realize that Commodus is responsible for his father’s death, and Lucilla knows it. This shot establishes that Lucilla is a canny political operator who knows both of these men intimately; that Commodus lacks patience; and that Maximus is not a fool who will, in his grief and out of desire to return to his family, miss the subtext of Commodus’s untimely insistence.

It’s a half a second shot and it gives us all of that information. In Troy, the camera cuts to characters just to...show that they’re still in the room, I guess? I really don’t know. It is often completely bewildering who the camera focuses on, from what angle, and in what lighting. 

(there is a separate post to be made about the odious cinematography and use of color in Troy.)

Because Gladiator is so economical in how it is conveying information about its characters and world, it has time to let other scenes breathe. A lot happens in Gladiator, but it ticks over like a clock because it knows what it’s trying to say with every second.

What is Gladiator about?

Gladiator is about empire. Specifically, the way empire creeps in around the edges of democracy and robs the concept of ‘the state’ of morals and dignity. Lucilla gets the “and in conclusion” line in Gladiator, when she stands on the sands of the colosseum after Maximus and Commodus have killed each other, and informs Senator Gracchus that the state is not even worth the life of one good man if it consents to be led by a tyrant.

It isn’t a big speech, it isn’t preachy; these characters have been, either directly or indirectly (often in the implied moments with those well-considered shots), talking about this for the entire movie, so Lucilla’s closing statement feels like a natural period at the end of the sentence. This moment is earned: the movie is about what Lucilla is saying in this moment.

What is Troy about?

It doesn’t know.

Worse, it doesn’t know it doesn’t know.

Troy thinks it’s about immortality. People talk about it a lot at the beginning of the movie. Odysseus’s voice over at the start of the movie is about how these warriors want their deeds to echo in eternity (this is literally a line from Gladiator but Gladiator and Troy are like the Spiderman meme with the big spiderman next to the little spiderman in the bad-fitting costume). Glory is explicitly Achilles’s reason to go to war. Achilles urges his myrmidons to take the beach by saying “eternity is yours! take it!” and various other characters get moments where they heavy-handedly insist that their names will be known for a thousand years, or something.

But then...nobody’s actions for the rest of the movie are informed by a desire for glory or immortality. Achilles is motivated by his big ol grudge, and later, love for Patroclus or Briseis. Hector is motivated by love of his city. Paris and Helen are motivated by love for each other, Agamemnon is motivated by wanting to be the biggest dick in Dick HQ. None of them really have anything to say about immortality.

Over the very last shot of Troy, Odysseus again gives a voice over, with the whole “let them say that I lived in the time of Achilles” bit, trying to bring it back to ‘remember, their names living a thousand years? that was the point, right?’ but it feels so irrelevant, because it is. Achilles even explicitly repudiates the value of immortality, when he says that fucking thing about how “~the gods envy us because we are mortal, the fragility and impermanence of life is what makes it worth living.~”

The problem is that the creators of Troy do not actually find the concept of immortality in glory interesting. I want to interject here that that’s okay! It’s not a very relevant concept in the modern day. we all kinda collectively got over that sort of thinking. tbh I don’t find it particularly compelling either, and even though it is very much explicitly the point of the Iliad, I would not feel a need to make it the core of my artistic vision when it came time for me to write an Iliad screenplay.

Except they thought they were doing that. Like. They thought that was what their movie was about.

And the outcome is that Troy...isn’t about anything. It has “GLORY AND IMMORTALITY” slapped across the top of a bunch of unrelated stuff that they just, you know, liked.

They liked the idea of Paris and Helen actually being in love. That’s cool, I’ve said in a previous post that I support that decision. But they didn’t then explore the theme of love as a casus belli, or how romantic love and fraternal love can come into conflict in that situation.

They liked the idea of Achilles being, uh, woke? I can’t think of any other way to put it. It’s a weird choice, but okay, if you really committed to it and made your whole movie about the undeservingness of kingship, and the power of the proletariat, you could maybe make some hay. But nobody else talks like this. It doesn’t come up anywhere else, and it doesn’t affect the outcome of anything.

They liked the idea of the Greeks being the villains, which is imo a really stupid choice, but whatever. But they didn’t want to thematically engage with why they are villains. They’re the villains because Agamemnon and Menelaus are assholes who want power. That’s it. There is no deeper look into what drives them, why they want the things they want, why empire is something Agamemnon seeks. 

For contrast, Hero is a Chinese movie where one of the central characters is the King of Qin, who is uniting China by force in 227 BCE. The protagonist is an assassin who has come to kill him, in order to protect the independence of his small kingdom. What follows is a deep examination of why you might want to build an empire. What good it does, the harm it does, the way someone might move from one point of view to the other. When the assassin eventually decides to die rather than complete his mission, you have been on a journey with him to understand why a conqueror conquers, and why conquest might be for the greater good.

but no, Agamemnon’s ambition in Troy just makes him an asshole. The concept of the value a united Greece is never actually scrutinized.

The problem with this approach is that Troy's story a big pile of mismatched socks. worse, because of how clumsily they use their scenes and shots, so much time is wasted on unnecessary nothing-moments that none of those socks are done. it’s like a pile of socks made by a knitter who’s running out of yarn so they make them all too little to be worn by a human.

If you really insisted on making a movie based on the Iliad told from multiple perspectives (a bad idea already, as we have previously discussed), there is an obvious choice for what it should be about: the cause for war. Everyone in this movie either is or easily could be fighting for a different reason. You can drive towards that. Which of these reasons are worthy? Is any reason worthy?

Or you could do a New Romantic take, and have it be a movie about love and the things love propels us to do, both destructive and generative. that works too, there are plenty of places to put love stories in the Iliad.

Or you could make it a story about duty: Paris’s and Achilles’s failure to do their duty, Hector becoming a martyr to duty, Priam choosing his duty as a father over his duty as a king, Odysseus reluctantly acting on his duty as an ally. what is the value of duty? is it honorable? does it fail us more often than it lifts us up together?

Or you could just do Hero, But It’s Western Now. Have the entire thing be about everyone’s reaction to the idea of a Greek empire. Like fuck man it worked in Hero and Hero came out in 2002, I know you watched it, David Benioff, you goddamn nerd. 

But the creators of Troy didn’t realize that by insisting they were telling a story about glory and immortality when glory and immortality didn’t actually interest them, they ended up creating a fucking gumbo of spare kitchen parts with “IMMORTALITY” written on the lid of the tupperware container they slopped it into. Troy is so frustrating to me because I can tell a lot of people really cared while they were making it. You can see every actor in the movie trying so hard. You can see the script straining at the seams to encompass greatness.

It’s just too bad that they tried so hard without knowing what they were trying to do.

[the8thsphynx]

p,,, p l e a s e ? I mean, please don't feel pressured to tell us about Herc either though!!! but if you want to ramble about her I'll very happily listen,,,,, as a greek mythology buff with fate brain rot your Herc makes me,,,, very happy,,,,, 🥺

HECC YEAH!

Alright, so as a disclaimer, she looks Like That(tm) because I’ve had Heracles as an OC since I was like an 11yo, so LONG before I even knew Fate existed and I’m not planning on changing the way she looks to look more like FSF/FSN Herc.

I also think that the armor I already have designed on her looks closer to Achilles/Jason/Asclepius/Odysseus’s more mecha-centered looks for Fate Greek Servants.

Next, I’ve established that the reason she is female is two separate reasons, and this has to do with compatibility for Roleplay:

When I did roleplay with others, I just had it set that she was from Musashi’s timeline and she isn’t actually the Heracles/Alcides of our timeline.

For my personal writing, it’s like an Artoria situation where history chose to remember her as a man because misogynistic Ancient Greece being like, ‘well there’s no way a woman could be a child of Zeus and this powerful and skilled at being in charge, so you must actually be a man’.

Second Disclaimer: no one has permission to take my designs and recreate them or use them for RP or fanfics.

SO listed below are the major points about her history in this verse and also how she currently operates as a Servant!!

In her history:

Same song and dance as the beginning where her powers surfaced at a young age, so Chiron found her and took her in to train her to be a hero. However, the change-up here is that Zeus gifted Heracles a portion of his power when she was born because he had the intention of this child being the hero that would guide Greece into a new age as his tickcet for his bet with Hera (this was in the 12 Trials original writing). Basically she never had a choice on whether or not she would be a hero.

When she traveled to Thebes in order to attempt to enter the Thebian Army, a whole situation happened with a coup and an attack with a hydra from Lernaea that got lured to Thebes from a nest by the people doing the coup... It was an entire thing. Heracles defeated the hydra and helped identify the traitor guards, so she was able to prove herself to Queen Eurydice and King Creon, who immediately had her married to their son Megara (below).

(he may have been in line for the Thebian throne and an incredibly skilled warrior, but he was THE Malewife.)

A bit before she moved to Thebes, when she was staying in Athens, Eurystheus met her and fell in love with her, but when she rejected his feelings that was when Hera came to him and ‘chose him as her champion’ so she could start her dirty ass scheme.

Heracles had a happy and loving marriage with Megara and they had one daughter and two sons. She would frequently go out with the Argonauts, but always came home to them as soon as she got back on shore.

When the Hera Snake Shit(tm) happened, Heracles was... broken. After the fact, the shock and grief made her go mad all over again until she dragged herself to Thebes and tried to convince Eurystheus to execute her, but because he was in cahoots with Hera he forced Heracles to the 12 Trials instead to ‘redeem’ herself... and this shit lasted 12 years, btw. So that’s 12 years of retraumatizing herself by being forced to do these impossible feats to be forgiven for the murders she was forced by Hera to commit... on top of Hera also sabotaging the Trials wherever she could.

When Heracles completed the initial 10, Eurystheus tricked her into two more, and after completing those two she snapped and nearly killed him, screaming at him to free her. It was then that Eurystheus bitched out and confessed everything to Heracles; Hera’s hatred, her whole plan... all of it. Heracles then stormed her ass out of Mycenae and Thebes and never returned.

She spent the rest of her life until her death by Nessus being cruel, cold, and tyrannical. Heracles had 1 (one) last biological child that she left with a king who would eventually raise that child to found Sparta (Leonidas’s ancestor), but the rest of her very numerous children were all actually orphaned or less fortunate children that she adopted so they could claim the title of ‘child of Heracles’ to help themselves get ahead in life (this is where the Heracleidae came to be). Even so, she usually left them on their own and didn’t open herself to them as a mother-figure.

Her life as a Servant:

She may have manifested as an Avenger class, but this is because of Megara becoming a part of her soul and manifesting with her as the manifestation of her hatred for the gods; he’s made the active choice to turn himself into the arrow meant to kill Hera.

If it weren’t for Megara bonding with her Spirit Core, Heracles would qualify for Grand Berserker class. Because of this, Heracles still has a Madness Enhancement factor that will kick in when she encounters a god. Very similar to when Penthisilea goes buckwild at the mention of Achilles, except it only activates and makes her black out when she is face-to-face with and aware that someone is a god.

Despite being an Avenger, she has an incredibly sweet disposition, especially towards kids. A habit from her life that stuck with her as a Servant is that if she sees a child (Heroic Spirit or not) who has no parents or awful parents, she WILL adopt them and start calling them her child, and no, not in the creepy weird m*mmy k*nk way, foh. In some cases, she’ll just adopt someone because they look like they could be her child. One fucking hilarious instance of this is that she has adopted Archer Emiya even though he gripes all the time that they look the same age physically. Does she care?? NO, that’s her son, babey!

Her Noble Phantasms are the almost the same as FSF Archer Alcides, especially Reincarnation Pandora and King’s Order... and Reincarnation Pandora is actually the reason why she would up contracting with Goetia. But she also has the manifestation of all 12 Trials, albeit in a different form than what Archer Alcides can bring them forth as, and this is because by some handiwork by Daedalus, Heracles can alter the King’s Order to adapt to whatever situation she needs them for.

ex: Cerberus can become a motorcycle aside from also being a three headed hellhound and the famous Lernian Hydra can turn into a Mercedes Benz aside from also being the fuck-off giant Kinghidorah.

Daedalus messing with Heracles’s Noble Phantasms is the most shown in her (Daedalus is a woman in this verse bc fuk u) alteration of Nine Lives to be a multi-adaptable weapon with nine different functionalities that Heracles can flip them to at a moment’s notice. These alternate forms include: bow, twin swords, double-ended spear, polearm, long barreled rifle, twin short arms, bludgeon, battering ram, and can even conform to the braces on her arms and become gauntlets (yes, her and Ruler Martha would vibe).

(I realize that this isn’t the best design, I’m still working on drawing weapons)

Oh, I almost forgot about her other non-combatant quirk: she fucking LOVES blond men. If a grown dude is a blond and NOT a Greek-- regardless of anything else about their physical appearance-- it cranks their attractiveness scale up by at least 2 points for her. Goetia, Fionn, Arthur/Artoria, Gawain, Kintoki, Gilgamesh (he’s on thin fuckin ice), Jekyll, Goredolf... none of them are safe.

She also very much loves modern era fashion and dressing up. Heracles quickly befriends a lot of the female Servants/staff and goes on periodic ladies nights out with them.

[camillacarusi]

Character ID

Name: Claire Wardle  Gender: Female Age: 9-15-19-28 Place of Birth: Cambridge, England Location: Cambridge-Cambridge-Milan-London Casting: Elif Karakoc

What does she stand for: La confusione e l’incertezza verso la vita, la “noia”, il tedio; paura all’idea di accettarsi, che poi diventa quasi una sorta di pigrizia e attaccamento alla propria daily life What is her glass of water: Claire vuole riuscire a capirsi, ha passato l’intera vita a cercare di “vederci chiaro” su se stessa.

The Proust Questionnairre

Al momento in inglese, ma poi si vedrà Claire sat down, smoothing the creases on her long, flowery skirt. Uncomfortable. The whole situation was uncomfortable. The way her boots squeaked when she walked into the room, the way the chair she was sitting on squeaked, the feeling of the lacey panties she was wearing (she had to thank Mars for that, and her silly idea of "sexy") Really, really, uncomfortable. "Hello, Claire. How do you feel?" "I feel fine." Smile, tilt your head, and say you are fine. Rinse and repeat for every day of your life, that's was what her mother taught her.The interviewer (definitely not a psychologist) stared at her behind his thick glasses. "Today I will ask you some questions out of an interview Proust received. Are you familiar with Proust?" "Yes," she bit back a snarky remark about him being her acquaintance, "of course. Alright." She stopped fidgeting on the chair .She needed to answer now, and the best way to focus was to forget about everything else entirely “What do you think is the principal aspect of your personality?” Claire blinked. Her personality was a mess. Bitter sarcasm and snarky remarks, probably. “I am… tempered, I suppose. I like to think before I act out on stuff, and, uh, I… I don’t like confrontation, or to stand out. So I’d say… is “being a wallflower” a good enough answer?” “There is no such a thing as a “good enough” answer.” Bloody right there wasn’t. He wouldn’t get paid otherwise. “What is the quality that you desire in a man?” The lack of a penis. “Uh, a good brain, and the ability to understand me.” “And in a woman?” She froze, bitten nails scrapping the surface of the arm rests as if she were picking on it. Pick pick pick. “I suppose… what do you- what do you mean? I am not interested in women. So, uh, the question is… the question doesn’t need an answer, right?” “See it in a platonic way. A platonic relationship, is that alright with you? What do you look for in a friend?” Pick pick pick. “Adventure. Being able to speak her mind. To just get her stuff and go for a travel and drag me on with her.” Like Mars. “You want somebody that can push you out of your routine?” Pick pick- Pause. “Yes. Yes, I s’ppose… I suppose that is right.” “What do you appreciate the most about your friends?” Friends. Claire pondered on the word, licking her chapped lips. (Mars gave her a coconut flavoured chapstick, but she absolutely loathed coconut. Even more than she hated having chapped lips). What was a friend anyway? Did she really have someone she could consider a friend? She had a friendly enough relationship with her classmates in college. And there was always Mars. Were they friends? “The fact that they can put up with…” my shit, “the way I act sometimes.” “Let's get this started, shall we? What’s your main fault? Your favorite occupation?” “My favourite,” she marked the word with her very own british accent, “occupation would be knitting. I also like swmming- although I guess that's more than like. It’s something that I’ve been doing for so long, that I sort of… got used to it. It calms me down. My main fault is probably the fact I am sort of a loner.” Probably, yes. If she wanted to dig a bit more into herself (which she definitely didn’t want, thank you very much) she could say that she was a pushover. The sort of person that will do pretty much anything in order to not get bothered and pestered by people. She could say that, well, maybe growing up with a mother that swept every problem under the rug could have some consequences. That a mindless father still treating her like an eleven year old she hadn't been in nine years often took a toll on her psyche. But she wasn’t going to tell. So, Claire smiled, shrugging helplessly “Yes, I suppose that I’m too much of a loner, heheh.” The psychologist looked at her with an imperscrutable gaze, writing something down on his block. She wanted to take a peek, but she doubted it was an option. Bloody doctors and ethics. “What would be your greatest misfortune, Miss Wardle?” “To disappoint my parents.” She answered quickly, hardly doubtful about it. Her parents were everything to her. Every chance, every opportunity she had in her life (Swimming lesson, going abroad to study, school itself) all was thank to them. … Maybe she didn’t want to be caged in a life she didn’t feel like living, but that was... … She would cross that bridge when she’d come to it, if ever. “And what should you like to be?” Claire was feeling hot. Her head was spinning a bit, she felt dizzy. The cotton of her sweater was itchy and she wanted nothing more than to peel it off and scratch, scratch, scratch at her bare arms. She shouldn’t, though. She smiled again, discretely scratching her cheek. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. “I’m not sure…? Ah, not famous. Not even that much of accomplished in life, that’s… I suppose…” The words were molding together in her brain, the air was too stuffy. “Calm down, Miss Wardle.” Easier said than done, old man. “Happy.” She whispered with as little voice as possible. “Happy?” He raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Yes. Just waking up one day, the smell of lavander surrounding me from the blankets, and just thinking… ah, I’m happy like this.” “Are you not happy right now, Miss Wardle?” “Is this one of your questions?” “No, but—” “Then can you… can you please just… can you not?” She snapped a little, surprising even herself at her harsh tone. “… Very well. Then let’s get to some basic, easier questions. What country would you like to live in?” “I like England, but if I have to pick one… Scotland, I like the folklore. Or Italy, maybe. Italy was good.” Italy was good. “Favorite color?” “My favourite colour,” she puntuated the words again, narrowing her big, chocolatey eyes, “is teal. It’s calming.” The teal coloured nailpolish on her nails was starting to rub off, though, thanks to her habit of picking at it. “Favourite” the doctor humoured her, actually smiling a little, “flower?” “Dahlia.” Short and easy. She liked those kind of questions much more than the previous ones. “What about birds?” “I… I don’t know that.” She blinked, clearly puzzled by the answer. “I don’t think about my favourite birds on a daily basis. I mean, ‘dunno, uh… robins? They are small and cute and pretty common…? I honestly have no clue.” She moved her hand around, in a motion that clearly meant: “Please, let us go ahead, I am just giving you a random answer.” The doctor nodded, rubbing a chubby hand along his bearded chin, thinking. Well, maybe it was a pretty random question. “Favourite author?” “Prose or poetry?” “Both.” “Oh!” Her eyes lit in delight  as soon as she got the chance to talk about literature. She could literally spend the entire day conversing about it. Narrowing down her favourite authors to just a couple of people, though, was hard… “Jane Austin and Oscar Wilde for prose and for poetry… Catullus and Horace, I guess. I mean, I loved Wilde’s ballad but- no, I shan’t, if I start talking about it I’d never finish in time, so… also, Emily Dickinson was an icon and- no, no, I’ll stop here, I apologise.” The doctor nodded along again, smiling amiably. “I wouldn’t mind listening to you, but we only have a couple of questions left.” “Alright.” Claire took a deep breath, feeling better than some minutes ago. Her panties were still painfully stretched, though, and she was aware of the way her tanktop was glued to her sweaty back, like a second skin under the black sweater. “What are your heroes? In fiction, if you don’t feel like giving an actual person as an answer.” Oh, she could definitely name a couple of people on top of her head who were a life changing meeting for her, but… yeah, fictional was better. Although, wasn’t she supposed to be there to talk about life and all that bullocks? Well, whatever, that was just her fourth meeting, she’d figure it out soon enough. “If you want a female name, than that would clearly be Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice. I never really thought of any male fictional hero… they are all so mainstream, you know?” She felt heat dusting her cheeks pink, and gave a half hearted shrug. “Maybe Odysseus, or Faust. They are tragically beautiful. Also Hector, in the Iliad... I wouldn’t mind having that kind of man close to me.” But she wouldn’t like it, either, to be fair. “Are we done yet? I think we are done. The time is running off, and I actually have an important meeting after this, so. Uhm, I will see you next Wednesday? I think?” She rambled, scrambling up in a nervous way, chair creaking as her legs hit it in her haste. The time was up, and she was /otally done with it. Not that she didn’t enjoy it. The time sort of flew, but she couldn’t afford to be late to her date. “One last thing, Miss Wardle. The last question is—” “Yes?” She interrupted him, quite rudely, too, barely containing her urge to bounce from foot to foot. “Favourite composer?” “Chopin, totally. Can I go now, please?”

The doctor stood up as well, taking his sweet time in doing so (at least, in Claire’s eyes) and offered her a hand. Claire glared at his stretched out hand, but gingerly took it in hers, mindful to give a “hard squeeze to show self assurance (her father words)”, but “not too hard, to not look to threatening (her mother’s)”. He gave her a warm, almost paternal smile, and not for the first time in meeting him, she felt a bit choked up. She wasn't good at dealing with men. “Of course. I’ll see you next Wednesday, Miss Wardle.” “Yea- yes, of course- I.. Uh.. I'll go now, good bye and thank you!” She scurried off, barely avoiding knocking down a vase in the process.

The door closed with a click. 

[vint-knight]

HomerOdysseus and EpicOdysseus in the same room together after their arguement:

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met

[voidfound404]

The op’s tags is so perfect

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met