#imagine how the mutiny could go

[soundwave-radioandbroadcast]

I'm having more brainworms for the "Tarn and Rodimus are brothers" AU.

Like Rodimus having this dead look in his eyes. Like he comes off as very cheerful and happy, a jokester, maybe kind of guided by his ego but no one can, expect Drift but even he sometimes has to look away, look him in his optics because they look so dead and lifeless.

His optics so dead and lifeless because he never got a chance to mourn his "dead" brother, the trauma of the war and suddenly becoming a prime.

Maybe Tarn has much more warmer or like kinder looking optics, maybe because he could still hear Rodimus' thoughts and in a way that help ground him, help him stay sane while he commit horrid acts in Megatron's name and the Decepticon cause.

Maybe his kinder eyes make it easier for people to look at him, make it easier for him to kill people, because why wouldn't you trust the mech with the warm, gentle, maybe soft red optics who smiles so sweetly and voice is like honey, maybe how he kills you will be much quicker and merciful. Almost like a siren's song he abuses.

[nick-writes-stuff]

Two-Sided Reunion

Hwang In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: The games continue despite the failed mutiny of the games. The players left in Gi-hun's group have to manage the next game on their own. Just when you have accepted your fate, you are escorted to the quarters of the man in charge, your childhood friend. He'd been waiting for you to arrive, and he knows just how to convince you to stay. [This is a part two to my fic "One-sided Reunion," but it can be read stand-alone]

warnings: PTSD mentioned/described, reader thinks they are going to die and is okay with that, canon-typical violence, manipulation/lying

a/n: IT'S HERE! 5.9k words. i'm so happy with this one, I hope you all enjoy it. this isn't the last you'll see from this concept, but i am taking a break from it for a bit.

You had no idea what to expect after the games continued. The attempted coup was a total failure. Except for Dae-ho and Hyun-ju, no one who left the room to fight had lived to tell the tale. You didn't have to imagine what happened to most of them. When you all were escorted to the fourth game, the stairs were still littered with the players' bodies. You noticed that there were no bodies of the pink soldiers, so either the revolution was squandered quickly with no guard casualties, or the soldiers were given the courtesy of the black coffins. The violence was memorialized with blood stains, bullet holes, and shell casings. It was horrific. The game maker's message was definitely clear.

You noticed that there were a few bodies missing. Young-il, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae. They must have made it into the control room. When they weren't announced with the others, you had some form of hope that they made it out okay, but they were announced shortly after the soldiers had stormed back into the dormitory with guns blazing.

Part of you was glad that they weren't anywhere to be seen. You think you would have broken down if you saw Young-il's body. You two were decently close in the games, all things considered. He saved your life during Mingle in that last round. Despite your argument, he was probably your closest ally in the games. And he looked too much like In-ho. Seeing him like that would have broken you.

The players weren't given food before the next game would begin. There was also no opportunity to vote again either. The promise created by the tie vote would never be kept. Maybe they knew that the players would vote to leave after the bloodshed that had occurred. X's and O's alike were nervous as they entered the white room. There was no animosity between the groups anymore. You all realized that any conflict you had was fabricated by the gamemakers.

"Attention Players:" The robotic voice began. You felt your heart race. You could hardly focus on the voice as it spoke. "This game will be played in groups of three. You will have ten minutes to pick your groups.

The members left in the group formed by Gi-hun looked at each other. You all no longer had the wisdom of your two best players, Gi-hun and Young-il. You tried to think about what games you could be playing. Three players was a strange number, as there weren't any games that were strictly teams of three. You also had the issue that your group had eight players, which was not divisible by three. You had yourself, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, the mother and son duo, Jun-hee and the crypto influencer (you knew they were acquainted somehow, but it wasn't clear), and the younger boy who had previously been with Thanos, who you didn't even know the name of.

Hyun-ju spoke first. "Do you guys think we should pair up together or spread out to other groups?"

You tried to remember what Gi-hun had said about his games. You knew he mentioned something about a game with a group of two, and it was something he didn't have the heart to talk about. That game was a touchy subject for him, so that was likely a very cutthroat game. But he never mentioned teams of three.

"Do we even have any idea of what we're playing?" Player 333 asked.

No one had any ideas. Gi-hun wasn't here to give any information from the previous games. You all were going into this blindly. "I mean, it could be Go-Stop." You offered half-heartedly. You doubted that it would be entertaining for the people running the games.

The silence lingered for a few moments before someone spoke. "Well, no matter what, l'm pairing up with my son." The older woman said, grabbing the man's arm. You knew he wanted to object by looking at his face, but he didn't. He probably knew that any resistance would be futile, and he needed to be near to protect her.

Jun-hee spoke up. "I could go with you guys." She offered.

Myung-gi objected quickly, "No way, you're with me."

She clearly didn't want that option, but something swayed her to accept it.

You met Hyun-ju's gaze before looking over to Dae-ho. "Do you have someone you want to team with?" You asked him.

Dae-ho had changed completely after the attempted coup. He came back for more ammo but started to have a panic attack. Probably from PTSD from his time in the marines. After they announced Jung-bae's elimination, he hadn't said much of anything to anyone since. He was a shell of his former self.

He didn't even show any recognition that you were speaking to him. He just stared with the same deadpan stare, looking in the direction of Jun-hee, but he wasn't looking at her. It's more like he was looking through her.

You sighed softly. You didn't want to leave him behind, but you were also afraid that if this was a team game like the 6-legged race, his state of shock would ruin the chances of his team's survival.

“I can go with Dae-ho and try to find another person.” Hyun-ju said.

You winced. Hyun-ju was a great player, and the idea of losing her because she had to work with the shell-shocked Dae-ho would crush you. "If that's what you want, that's fine." You mumbled.

You looked over to Player 125. “Which group do you want to be with?"

He seemed conflicted at first as his anxiety got to him. He took a breath and looked over to the mother and son. "Can I go with you guys?" He asked, voice shaking.

They both nodded, and you looked over to Jun-hee and Myung-gi. "I guess I'm with you guys then."

You all waited out the rest of the time until the game began. You all walked into a room that looked like a recreation of a neighborhood. There were small houses, and the alleys connecting them were all decorated. It even looked like the road was actually paved with asphalt. It was a fairly big room as well, but how would you play most games in a more enclosed space?

“Attention Players: The game you are playing is Hide and Seek. You will be playing with the two players you have chosen." The announcement played, using a voice too cheery for the situation.

You felt your blood run cold. This wasn't a team game at all.

"The player with the lowest number will be the seeker and the other two will be the hiders."

All three of you looked at the number on your jacket. 032. You were seeking.

"The hiders will be given five minutes to hide while the seekers will be blindfolded. Then, the seekers will have five minutes to search for the hiders. The seeker must touch the hider to find them. If the seeker finds a hider, that hider will be eliminated. If the seeker does not find both hiders, the seeker will be eliminated." The voice continued. "Let me repeat the instructions...”

The voice faded out as it continued. You couldn't hear anything over the beating of your heart. Your breathing quickened as you comprehended the information. The only way you would live is if you killed the other two.

You heard the cries of Geum-ja realizing her son, Player 7, was the seeker, and the pair had no chance of making it out alive together. You didn't hear anything from Hyun-ju. You at least knew that Dae-ho wouldn't be the seeker, but you didn't even know if he would be able to hide on his own. You hoped that their third member was the seeker.

You were still standing in shock as the guard put a black burlap sack over your head and pushed you toward the outer wall. Your mind was racing as you tried to think of any way to salvage the situation. There wasn't one, but your optimistic nature made you want to hope there was one. You couldn't bear to eliminate the other two, especially since Jun-hee had the baby to worry about. You wanted to live, but you weren't that selfish.

The five minutes rushed by. Your blindfold was removed, and the timer restarted with five more minutes on the clock. Everyone else started dashing around the room, desperately trying to find the hiders, but you really didn't care. You walked around aimlessly, taking in as much of the experience as you could since it was going to be your last

You flinched as the first gunshot rang out. You didn't even hear the number of the player who died. You just kept thinking how that was going to be you in a few minutes.

You eventually stumbled into Hyun-ju and Dae-ho Hyun-ju wasn't her group's seeker, thankfully. She put a finger to her lips. You just nodded and walked away.

You kept walking around, making it look like you were actively seeking, but you weren't. Around the one minute mark, you did end up seeing Jun-hee and Myung-gi.

The man started to turn and get Jun-hee to run, but you just shook your head. He gave you a confused look. "I'm not gonna do this. I can't do this to you guys." You said, voice wavering.

Jun-hee gave you a knowing look, eyes starting to well up with tears. Myung-gi, on the other hand, eyed you suspiciously. He was worried this was a ruse and you would use it to distract them.

"Just do me a favor.” You asked, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. “Vote to end them if they let you. And if not, don't let one of the O assholes win. Get out of here alive, please." You said with a rueful chuckle. You looked up to the timer. 30 seconds left.

You heard Jun-hee start crying, murmuring words of thanks as more gunshots rang out. "Thank you. We won't forget your kindness." Myung-gi said with a slight bow, most likely a way of apologizing for doubting your intentions.

"I'm gonna go so you don't have to see it." You said before walking off to find a secluded spot. Following Young-il's example, you were trying to shield your allies from seeing your demise. You sat on a bench, taking deep breath.

Once the timer went off, you let out a broken sob. It was over. You started hearing gunshots and player eliminations. You only caught one of them. Player 7. He saved his mom. He did call her a survivor after all.

You saw a triangle guard walk toward you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping he would make it quick.

You heard a gunshot.

You didn't feel any pain.

You stayed still. Maybe it was another guard shooting someone else.

"Player 32, eliminated."

What? Were you dead?

By the time you opened your eyes, the soldier was in front of you and put his clothed hand over your mouth before you could say anything. You tried fighting him off, but he only sharply whispered, "Be quiet."

You listened. What else would you do?

You stayed like that until the doors slammed shut. You assumed all the surviving players were going back to the dorm. He removed his hand from your face but grabbed your shoulder to keep you there.

Two other guards came over to you. One with a square and another triangle with a gun in hand.

"Follow me." The square guard ordered. He didn't say anything else before beginning to walk away. Of course you listened.

You walked with the two armed guards behind you. You looked around to see if you saw any other bodies you recognized, but you didn't. You hoped the others in your group were okay. You walked past the forklift carrying the black coffins to put the players in. You should be in one of those now.

'Did I do something wrong?" You asked. You were greeted with silence. No, of course you hadn't done something wrong. If you had, they would have just shot you. That's how they deal with rulebreakers. You knew that. You saw that on your way to the game hall.

You followed them wordlessly, wiping the tears from your face. You had more questions, but you knew you wouldn't get answers. You started thinking through the possibilities that might occur to you. None of them were good. You were led into an elevator. The guard hit a button, and the door shut. You stood and waited to see where you were going to end up.

---

In-ho had started creating this game the second he was back in the control room. The fourth game had always been meant to be a cutthroat, alliance breaking game. It was consistently the Marble game for several years, but he didn't know if Gi-hun had told any of the players about that game. If he did, there was a chance the remaining members of his group would account for that scenario. He needed a game that was just as heartbreaking but could still allow you to be pulled out of the game, so he devised hide-and-seek.

Most of the rules for the game worked well for the circumstances. Deciding who would be the seeker was difficult. His first thought was to make it random to ensure you were the seeker. But after the coup, he decided against it so the players didn't think the seekers were being punished by the gamemakers. That's the last thing he wanted. Choosing the player with the lowest number was a gamble. He knew that Player 7 was one of your allies, so if you decided to have him in your group, you wouldn't be the seeker and therefore couldn't be pulled out. Luckily, you hadn't joined them. He smiled a bit under his mask when he noticed.

Once the doors were shut, the game was ready to commence. He did feel a little bad when he saw you start to panic upon realizing what the game meant. He swallowed tensely. He knew this was going to be a hard moment to stomach for both of you. In order for the plan to work, you had to think you were going to die. He didn't want to see it, but it was necessary.

During the game, he found himself only watching you. His eyes gravitated toward whatever screen you were displayed on. He was surprised that you seemed so resigned to your fate. He assumed the only reason you did was the fact you knew Jun-hee was pregnant.

He noticed you walk away from the pair, and that confused him at first. It was a good thing for him after all since it made it easier for you to be unseen. He watched you start to panic and cry uncontrollably once the timer hit zero. He turned away from the screen, only slightly at first to look away, but then he looked over to the guard in black. "Continue with the normal schedule." He said quickly. Once the players were on their way to the dorm, he turned on his heel and made his way up to his living quarters

---

When the elevator doors slid open, you weren't expecting to see the elegant suite. Why was this here? And why were you being led to it?

You looked over to the square guard. "Should I go in?" You asked. No reaction. It shouldn't have surprised you.

As you decided to step forward, you saw someone come down the hall. A man in black with a polygonal mask. It's the guy Gi-hun had mentioned talking to when he was in the limousine. You tensed up slightly upon this realization. What the hell did you do to warrant this?

"Hello, Player 32." He greeted. His mask clearly had some form of voice filter, as his voice was pitched down slightly.

Before you could respond, you heard the elevator doors shut behind you. You turned to investigate the noise, and when you realized the answer was obvious, you nervously cleared your throat. You gave him a bow of respect. "Hello, sir." You said meekly.

He chuckled, a sound that relaxed you slightly. "There's no need for such pleasantries." He said. The mask blocked all of your ability to see any nonverbal cues from him. It was somewhat unnerving. "Do you have any idea why you are here?" He asked. He knew he was leading you on a bit here by not being straightforward with the reason, but it was all in good fun.

You shook your head. "No, sir. I shouldn't be alive right now. But they just brought me here.'" You said, trying not to stumble over your words. It was hard because saying the phrase 'I shouldn't be alive right now' was harrowing

"Do you want to know why?”

You seemed confused. Why would you say no to that? You doubted it was a trick question. You nodded.

“Because I told them to." He said bluntly

You murmured a soft "oh" before sighing in disappointment. You had hoped he would give you more context.

He chuckled lightly at your reaction. You seemed to relax a bit, but you definitely didn't seem comfortable yet. He continued, "You were invited here because we share a common goal. We're trying to find someone who left us long ago.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. "How do you know that?" You asked. It wasn't like there was an interview to get into the games. You had only told a few trusted friends about your situation

He winced under the mask at the question, but he was able to recover from that oversight quickly. "You would be surprised how much reconnaissance we do before recruiting players."

You didn't know why you hadn't thought of that. Of course they would. They had already shown they knew exactly how much debt you were in. Even before you called the number on the business card. The man with the suitcase knew it too.

"See, this is a huge coincidence. The person I'm looking for is you." He said. That was a half truth. He hadn't been looking for you until he first saw you in the games. But he'd been watching out for you since then.

Your eyes widened. The person in charge has been looking for you? What did you do? How did you somehow wrong the same man that now holds your life in his hands? What was he gonna do to you? Your breaths started to quicken as your mind raced.

He was quick to dispel your fears. "Calm down, okay? It's nothing malicious. If I wanted to harm you, I could easily have done it by now." He said. He chose those words carefully. It asserted the power he had but also showed you that he could be trusted.

That statement didn't make you feel any better, but you at least made an attempt to appear calm externally.

He chuckled again. “I'll stop pulling your leg now.” He said before reaching up to take down his hood. You were only growing increasingly confused. What the hell did that mean?

You only got more nervous as he started to pull off his mask. The triangle guard that Gi-hun stole the gun from acted like being unmasked was a death sentence. Was the act of unmasking a display of respect or meant to signal that you won't be around to cause consequences?

Your brain ran a mile a minute once you saw his face. You studied his face. Your mouth fell open as you tried to get your brain to work.

You first recognized him as Young-il. You didn't know how to feel about that. You were happy he didn't die, but you were just so confused by the prospect. How did he survive? Was he really the same person as Gi-hun mentioned?

You started to stutter out “Y-Youn-” before stopping as your brain made sense of the situation at hand.

Young-il's similarity to In-ho was obvious to you since you first saw him. Young-il looked similar to how you remembered your friend's appearance, but time had likely changed what In-ho looked like since you saw him last. But he acted a lot like In-ho as well. He was willing to help others with whatever they needed, and he also knew how to rationally take control of a situation to do what needed to be done. You saw this in Mingle, with some unfortunate consequences. Pairing this with how insistent he was about talking about the man he reminded you of, the puzzle solved itself.

“In-ho?” Your voice shook. Not out of fear this time. You were overwhelmed by several emotions. Mostly shock, but also excitement and confusion.

The second you saw him nod slightly with a smile, you couldn't stop yourself from rushing toward him. You wrapped your arms around him, crying into his chest.

His smile grew when you did so. He finally let the mask fall from his fingers, the clattering on the floor signaling his newfound freedom. He wrapped his arms around you as well. He let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. His shoulders felt loose for the first time in a long time, free of the weight of the role of the Front Man. He really was In-ho at this moment and nothing else.

You wanted to just soak in the moment, but you realized how many questions you had for him. Most of them were questions you had been asking yourself for years. Why did he leave? Why didn't he tell you anything? But there were some new, more troubling questions arising. How did he end up running the games? Why would he even decide to hold them in the first place? Why did he play in the games if he was really the man in charge?

By the time you pulled away, you had been thinking long enough that your tears had dried. You stumbled over your words at first, trying to decide which question to ask first. When that failed, you looked at him and just said “Explain.”

“When I left, I was leaving to join the games to pay for her treatments.” He said, referring to his wife. You knew the situation well. “I won the games and made it out with the money. I stopped back at the hospital as soon as I could, but she and the baby had passed while I was away.” He said. His voice was soft and solemn.

“I just couldn't come back to you like that. I already seemed like a deadbeat for leaving in the first place. How do I explain the money I came back with? So I just went wherever my feet took me.” He said.

Your eyebrows furrowed, looking up at him. “How did you end up back here? Why would you…” You questioned, trailing off as you couldn't form the words to ask what you really wanted to.

His next statement was one he had thought about for a while. He had hardly slept the night before, finding his mind running through how he would answer your questions. He wanted this to go well. He wanted to be able to rebuild this relationship and get a shred of his old life back. Explaining why he was continuing the games was a vital part of this encounter. What he was going to say was mostly true. The broad strokes were accurate, but he couldn't tell you every detail, so some were exaggerated. Nothing was outright false, but intentions and specifics can be blurred when the only other person who was there died years ago. Il-nam was the only one who could prove him wrong.

Was it wrong to lie to you? Maybe. In his mind, he was protecting you from the gory detail and giving you the opportunity to be outside the realms of the game. Learning too much can put a target on your back. If he tried to leave the operation now, he would be leaving in a wooden box. By keeping you out of it, he was protecting you from that fate.

He sighed. “I was hardly living for a while. I was homeless because I couldn't convince myself to use the money. Eventually I received another business card. I was vulnerable and they knew that. They told me that I was wasting my chance at life by not using the money. But they gave me the proposition of working with them. If I wasn't going to appreciate my opportunity, I could help them provide the opportunity to others.”

You took a deep breath. It was hard to hear. On one hand, he chose to leave and not say a word. He could have at least given you and his family any sign he was okay. But you also put yourself in his perspective. Would you have been thinking rationally if you made it out of the games with that much trauma?

“I still wish you would have reached out somehow.” You said, trying to mask any bitterness in your tone. It was true and you were bitter but you knew it wasn't fair to be.

He nodded wistfully. “I wish I did too. I was just… ashamed, I guess.” He said.

You sighed. “I just don't understand why you would agree to help with the games at all. Especially when you saw how they were from the other side.” You said. You weren't going to be convinced without an explanation for that. That decision led to the deaths of hundreds of people. He was going to need a good reason for that.

“You have to realize, the higher-ups don't see the game from that perspective. They don't care about the individual players.” He said. Your eyes widened slightly. You didn't know this operation was so widespread. Gi-hun had made it seem like the Front Man was the head of the organization. He continued, “They told me that the games were the best way to give people a fair and equal chance to change their lives.”

You gave a slightly annoyed sigh, shaking your head. “But how many people died? The collateral damage is severe to offer just one person that chance,” you countered.

“They described it as a mercy killing.” He said. You clearly didn't like that phrasing by your facial expressions, so he continued. “What I mean by that is they were lessening their suffering. Out in the world, they would spend years being chased down by loan sharks and organ harvesters. Here, they make it quick.”

You opened your mouth to interject, but he continued.

“I'm not saying that this is the correct way to solve their problems. I wasn't in my right mind when they convinced me.” He said. This was the most disingenuous he had been during this encounter, but he still wasn't lying. Most would say he couldn't have been in his right mind if he made the decision to allow hundreds of people to be killed to ‘take out the trash’ of society.

He did a quick scan of the room, seeming to be looking for another presence in the room. That made you nervous. Is there someone else here? Before you could say anything, he spoke in a softer voice as if he was telling you a secret. “I'm in too deep now. They'd kill me if I tried to leave.”

That's a true statement. There was no way he would be able to leave the operation now. He knew too much so he would become a loose end. Good thing he doesn't intend on leaving.

Call it naivete on your part, but you pitied him. He couldn't leave even if he wanted to. He would have come back if he could. He didn't say that, but that's what he means, right?

“Oh my god.” You said, still somewhat in shock of it all. You thought for a moment. “So why were you playing in the games?” You asked.

He shook his head with a sigh. “They wanted someone to watch over Gi-hun to make sure he stayed in line. I was expendable and they knew I had experience.” He said. That was mostly true, but there was little chance he would have failed the games. He obviously knew the trick for Red Light Green Light. The six-legged race was more dangerous, but he was in more control over it than anyone knew. And for Mingle he memorized the sequence of the numbers, which was a detail he had almost let slip.

You didn't know what to say. You felt so bad for him. You felt bad for the anger you felt when he left without saying goodbye. For the times you had let Jun-ho curse his brother's name for causing them to worry. For the times his mom called him a bad husband for walking out on his wife. You wanted to apologize for the resentment and bitterness because he doesn't deserve that.

“You know, I'm actually kind of glad they put me back in the games.” He said softly.

You gave him a confused look. “Why? Wasn't that traumatic?” You asked. It shook you to your core, and you didn't even have past experiences to haunt your mind.

He nodded. “Yeah, of course. But…” He trailed off. He tore his gaze down to his hands, and you could swear you saw a light blush dust his cheeks. “I can't even describe how it felt to see you there.” He said.

“Obviously I wish it could have been under different circumstances,” he started. You nodded with a light chuckle, a sound which made him smile a bit. “But seeing you there felt like I was seeing an angel. A glimmer of hope. I never thought I would be able to have any piece of my old life back.”

You were the one blushing now. Once it seemed like he was done talking, you spoke: “I-is that why I'm still… here.” You paused shortly because you got hung up realizing you were going to ask why you were still alive.

He nodded. “It wasn't easy, but after the attempted coup, I managed to get them to allow me to pull you out of the game.” He said.

You seemed puzzled. “Isn't that against the rules though?” You asked. The gamemakers had a considerable amount of rules, and you couldn't understand why they would be willing to compromise on a rule as important as player eliminations.

He sighed. “Technically yes, but it's something we did previously. The man who originally started the games was dying, and he wanted to be able to play the games for real. So we arranged for him to play the first three games with some protection and be pulled out after the fourth. It was decided that, under very special circumstances, we could pull a player out of the games alive after they were eliminated as long as they weren't seen by any other players.” He explained. You nodded as you took in all the information. It was a lot to process.

“Thank you.” You said softly. It sunk in that you would be dead without him. He was your saving grace.

His face turned into a friendly smirk. “As if I'd let anything happen to you. You still owe me money from that last trip to that tteokbokki stall.” He said.

You giggled softly, grinning as well. “That's not how I remember that going, but sure, tteokbokki on me next time.” You shot back jokingly. You both shared a laugh before quieting for a moment. That joke was the most normalcy that either of you experienced in a long time.

You had a question to ask, but you were scared to hear the answer.

“So what happens now?”

You wouldn't imagine In-ho would do anything to you, but you didn't know what the gamemakers would do. Are you allowed to go home? Or will they keep you there? Or would they kill you?

“That's up to you. No matter what, it's really important that you don't say a word of this to anyone. I think we'd both be in danger if you did.” He said. “You would be welcome here if you want. You wouldn't have to deal with the games if you don't want to. Or I could have someone escort you back to the mainland.”

He would be taking a risk letting you leave the island, but he was willing to gamble here. You would do anything for him, and he knew that. If you thought he would be killed if you disclosed the information, you weren't going to say anything. You already said you would do anything to have him back, so you would keep quiet if it meant that he was safe.

And he was right. How could you leave him alone again? You meant what you said. You would do anything.

If you stayed, you didn't have to be a part of the games. Did staying mean you were supporting their existence? You didn't think so. Staying with In-ho didn't mean you approved of them. It just meant that you missed your friend. Even so, you don't think that argument would have changed your mind. In your case, the games did their job. They helped you to change your life for the better. This was your chance.

You didn't really have anything left out there in the real world anyway. You had already readied yourself to die in the place of Jun-hee and Myung-gi during the game. Nothing out there was important enough for you to fight to stay alive then. You sat there and were expecting a bullet to the skull, and you had been at peace with that outcome.

Sure, you had Jun-ho, but he had been so absorbed in a case and you had hardly seen him in months. You only had your dad in your biological family, and you two were hardly on speaking terms most of the time. He most likely wouldn't have allowed you back home if you hadn't brought the money with you. Here you didn't have to deal with your dad's loan sharks who were threatening to drag you into debt too. Even though this place seemed dangerous, this felt like a swimming pool compared to the ocean you were struggling in out there.

And here you have In-ho. You missed him so fucking much. Laughing with him earlier was the best you had felt in a long time. Since he left, it felt like a piece of your soul had vanished. The spark was gone and you proceeded to be swallowed by the shadows and darkness of the world around you. You had been so low before that even being in his presence now felt like you were on top of the world.

If you stayed, you would be leaving just like In-ho had. You resented him for it then, but you regret ever being mad at him for it. You understand now. Maybe Jun-ho will curse your name too. He'll call you a deadbeat and give up hope of finding you.

It doesn't matter though.

As long as you're happy, right?

You smiled. “Fuck it. I'll stay.”

He welcomed you into his embrace with open arms.

[astracora]

The Pirate and the Siren

Characters: Pirate!Caleb x gn!Siren!mc

Warnings: Death, hints of Child Abuse, Suggestive Content but not outright smut, General Caleb warnings, Amnesia, Not Beta Read

Word Count: 12,722

Written: 27th February 2025

Notes: AU One-shot with Caleb and the main MC I write for. I'm not sure if I subscribe to Caleb's myth being a pirate one, but holy fuck do I enjoy pirates. So I wouldn't complain if it was. This was meant to be way shorter, but I got carried away. I got really carried away. It very nearly got NSFW, which isn't my go to. I hope you enjoy!

Now Playing: Master of Tides, By Lindsey Stirling

Masterlist AO3

Caleb had grown up hearing stories about sirens. Beautiful half-bird beings, who sank ships by drawing sailors to their deaths. Singing upon the rocks, so ships dashed themselves against them.

It was never something he thought he would care about, a small kid in the streets of Linkon Port. Scrounging for food, or stealing it where necessary. There was little else he could do, but try to survive. Stories of myths and legends, unimportant.

Even if he did sometimes sit on the docks and stare out, hoping, there was more. Something better. Daydreamed about sneaking onto a ship, to escape this place. This agony of the dirt and grime and hunger in his gut.

When he was eight years old, he was caught by the local pub owner, who grasped his wrist so hard his bones creaked. Demanding he pay for the bread he had stolen and eaten. With no coin to his name, and no one who could shield him from the man's wrath, he was sold to the local pirate crew.

No matter if he kicked and screamed, the choice was to be hung, or to work for them. So he accepted it. Albeit with fear lurking under his skin. Reminding him of stories of pirate violence. Of cruelty. Of short temper.

He told himself, that there was a very real chance he could escape one day. Flee if they came to a port more prosperous, more welcoming, than Linkon had been. The vague dream of his better life, more real, almost at his fingertips.

So Caleb took up work as a cabin boy. It was short lived.

Because pirates are a superstitious bunch, and he learned very quickly, that maybe there was some weight to their routines and rituals. When the ship set sail on a Thursday, the crew had shivered and complained in quiet voices. Not willing to fight their captain, but not comfortable with the choice made. The old man with his long white beard, and his crooked wooden leg, had a new map. With the location for the fountain of youth.

A pirate's dream. Above all other dreams.

The closer the ship got to the fountain's location, the worse the weather got. Thunder and lightning darkening the skies, whirlpools and chaotic waves.

Caleb learned he was surprisingly good with the nausea. When sailors threw up, he found he could carry on his work, unbothered. Several of them found him disconcerting. Avoiding him as he went about his job, mopping vomit from the ship's deck.

The captain took a liking to him, training him to be a powder monkey. So that he could learn how to use a gun and canon, though there was little use for his skills in the storms. No other pirate, and no naval officer sailed out this far. So when he was not working, he would take an interest in the maps. When he was caught, the captain taught him how to read them.

It was not a relationship of kindness, he was useful, and did not cause trouble. When he stepped out of line, or pushed at the limits of the captain's patience, he learned quickly why the man was so feared.

It was a reminder, once again, how little control he had held over his life thus far. A reminder that he was small, and the world was big. Too big.

As the ship drew closer to the marked location, there was a talk of mutiny. A desire to be in safer waters, not hunting for a myth or a legend, in cursed waters.

Pirates are a superstitious bunch… but legends, Caleb learned, were far more real than he could have ever imagined.

It started on the dawn, the crew buoyed by the prospect of a landing soon. When they began to talk about soft singing, voices in the shadows, whispers in their ears. Jumpy and on edge. Paranoid and lost.

Caleb had tried to listen out, unable to make out the sounds, and so he assumed, foolishly, that they were driven mad by the journey. After all, myths were exactly that.

He did not believe in the fountain of youth, and he did not believe in sirens. Life was dark, dirty and painful, and there was no mythic creature or magic to make it anymore than it was.

Until the first man disappeared. Lost to the sea during the night. Slipped overboard. Perhaps he had been drunk, or started a fight he could not finish. Still, he was gone.

The next one, Caleb saw for himself. Pouring out buckets of water from the storm in the early hours, a man wobbled, walking out from the cabins. Eyes drooped, not even dressed, stumbling over the deck. He debated calling out for a moment, but drunken and half asleep pirates… well he was not one for reckless choices.

He was a survivor. He had no cause to do anything for anyone who had a hand in his chains.

Then the man looked up, dazed and in a dream, and Caleb had looked past him, seeing nothing, just the empty ocean, and the unsteady waves.

Until he saw the golden gleam over the man's eyes, and then, without any hesitation, he jumped.

Swallowed up by the sea, and Caleb could only stare after him. Stunned, and shocked, and haunted.

His unsteady dreams played the vision, over and over again. The golden glow and the devouring sea. It was the first time, in all his time on the ship, that he felt nausea, and had thrown up over the side, shivering.

The day land was in sight, he watched the world change. From a moment of relief, a crew excited and ready to see if the myth was real, to the shaking of the ship. The waves so tall they rose up over the side. Washing out the canons, and flinging anything not tied down into the depths.

The crew were ordered to secure themselves, ropes tied from them to the ship itself, as it thrashed about in the storm.

He had finished securing cargo, and himself, when he saw it. The gold flickering over the captain's eyes. The dazed, empty look to his gaze.

He cut his own ropes, walking to the side, and threw himself into the storm. As the man went over, Caleb saw the rocks standing tall. The wheel of the ship began to spin, and the hard right threw the entire crew to the limits of their ropes. As he fell to the floor, ribs bruising from the force, Caleb saw it.

Creatures sitting on the rocks, mouths opened, wings extended.

He could not see any further, could not focus for long, before the ship collided with the rocks, and he was swallowed up by the water, to the song of a screeching demon.

—-----

His lungs burned, choking on air and spitting up water. Agony, and nausea. Shaking to his limbs. So, so very cold.

Caleb rolled, bracing himself against the wet sand to choke up salt water. The sting burning his throat. Cutting at his lungs and his mouth.

His eyes hurt to open, the sting agonising, his tears only making it worse. Tumbling over his cheeks, as he shook.

The image of the ship capsizing with him on, the water rising above him, the rope pulling him with the carcass of the beast, as the crew around him embraced their deaths, with the gold in their eyes.

He's barely aware, when half a coconut is pushed in front of him. It's water visible in the shell of the fruit. The slightly sweet scent helps pull him from his panic, bringing his young mind scuttling forward in desperation. Lifting it with shaking, scratched up hands, to down it. Before he tries to carve out the flesh of the fruit, with his bare hands, to shove pieces into his mouth.

It is only as he chews, that he realises he can see talons in front of him.

Looking up, to see a creature, with its head tilted. Fluffy down, and mismatched eyes, partially hidden behind more feathers.

Fear rips through him, as wings flutter, and he scrambles away. "Don't-"

You tilt your head, the other way, watching him move. He does not get far, weak and aching, before he raises the coconut like it might act as a shield.

You do not advance, and he waits, for the violence. For the cruelty. Instead. You stay, and you watch, and he stares.

"You're hurt." You finally speak, indicating the blood on his torn clothes, his wounds, and his skin prickles, goosebumps along his arms. He barely can process the words, because he cannot think past the music that curls from your lips, and wraps around his chest. He can't find his words, can't think of how to speak, so he just stares.

You are not like the beasts on the rocks. You look younger than he does, a child, with bird legs, but a human torso, your right arm is missing, and you have a human head. Feathers meld with the hair on your head, more down. Your wings are still small, he thinks about chicks for a second. Baby birds without their flight feathers.

They're speckled, and pretty. Your eyes are mismatched, but there's a small golden ring around your pupils. As he looks at them, he thinks about the man throwing himself into the sea.

"Siren."

You point at the coconut, "Do you want another one? Humans need plenty of food, right?"

He shakes his head, pushing himself further back in the sand, and watches you, but you don't make an indication you want to hurt him. Instead, you hop, and flutter flightless wings, away and return with another coconut. With sharp talons you lift it, then crack it down on a rock with some force.

Caleb swallows, hand going to his head, feeling the fear spiking further.

You hop over, not too close as soon as you see him ready to try to run, on unstable legs, and offer the halves of the fruit to him. "Eat."

"Are you going to kill me too?"

Your eyes widen, the gold gleaming, and growing around your irises, before shrinking back to rings around slitted pupils. You shake your head, "I don't want to kill you, so no."

"So you wanted to kill the crew?"

He watches as you fidget, fluff up your feathers, and then hop closer. You wet some fabric in the water, and then join him. He doesn't move, too scared to try to get away from you. The image of the capsizing ship, and the coconut cracked in talons, freezing him in the sand. You wipe at the blood on his cheek, and he watches your pupils widen and then sharpen again. "I didn't kill your crew."

As you get closer, he sees your right wing is broken. The feathers mangled and broken, the wing itself flutters weakly when you move, but does not flap, not like the other does. There are pearlescent scales over your cheeks, around your neck, and over your chest. When you move, they catch the light, gleaming. Caleb finds himself staring as you tend to his injuries, careful and gentle hands. Far more gentle than anything he'd ever felt in his life. Long lashes against bright eyes, and scars over your cheek, lips and right side. "How old are you?" He finds himself asking.

You look at him, "I've seen eighty-seven new moons."

He tries to calculate it in his head, but feels too drained to even try. So he tries something else, "Who did kill the crew?"

This time, you flinch, pulling away from him a little, fear in your eyes and he instantly misses the gentle movement of your hand and the cloth, "The others. They don't… they don't like me. I'm bad luck. I can't sing with them." Your eyes are so sad, he almost reaches out, something in his chest aching, that he can't quite understand. He just doesn't like the look on your face, the pain. He's seen it in the reflections of puddles, staring back at him. "You didn't hear their song, so I tried to save you. I can't fly, though, so I had to bring you here. Sorry."

Caleb would laugh, if it didn't hurt so much. He was almost killed by a siren, and saved by another. You resume cleaning his wounds, and smile a little awkwardly. It's crooked, like you're not used to it. "I can find you a way home, if you give me some time. There are other beings in the sea that don't hate humans."

So he gives it, because he has to. He sits on the sand, and watches you hop over to the waves, watches as you open your mouth, and let out one lone sad note. It pierces through his chest, and for a moment he fears it will drag him into the waves too. Instead it just… makes a tear streak down his cheek.

When you hop back, you look proud, the smile not as awkward, but still very crooked with the scarring on your face, "One of the Lemurians will help. They're nice, and you're small. They will help."

"You're small too." He finds himself biting back, and you blink, looking down at yourself, then at him.

Truthfully you're a little bigger than he is, but you're definitely younger, he affirms to himself. Reaching over, he pats the top of your head, fingers touching soft feathers and tangled hair. Watching as your smile turns into a frown, and then laughs as your feather puff up. "I'm normal. I think."

"You're way smaller than the other ones."

You huff, turning away, and he feels a little guilty, "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." You don't respond, sulking, and he moves in front of you, peering in at your face, "You might be a pipsqueak, but-" He swallows, "Thank you for saving me."

Your feathered tail flicks up, then down, and you finally smile again, looking over at him. His chest is tight again, but warm. He's not sure why, but you reach over and pat his head back. Hand gentle, fingers brushing back his hair and tilting your head at him. "You're welcome."

The two of you sit in the sand, and stare out at the ocean. When he cannot pull anymore coconut out of its shell, you help with a talon, offering him more pieces.His stomach is eased somewhat, and the ache in body fades away with the gentle care, and though you offer to catch him a fish as well, he rejects it. In favour of keeping the two of you out of sight of the sirens that killed the crew, and make that look in your eyes flickers.

The gulls overhead caw, and fly, and there is no storm at sea. Calm blue sky and gentle breeze, making him think perhaps he did die in the waves. This is a dream.

The dull pain reminds him he is not. The sensation grounding him, to your soft feathers brushing his skin as you perch beside him, and the salt on his tongue.

"The storm's gone."

You nod, "When they don't sing, the skies calm. This place is pretty when it's quiet."

"Is this your home?" He asks, watching you, as you turn your head tilted towards him, blinking eyes and flicking gold.

"It's-" You frown, brow furrowing, and you shake your head, "It's where I live. That's different right?"

He's not really sure, he's never had a home, or a place to live. The ship was the closest he got, otherwise he slept in street alleys, and snuck into abandoned houses to get shelter from the worst of the weather. Still, if he goes off what he hears in stories, home is warm. None of the places he's been were warm.

"Maybe."

"What about you? Was the ship your home?"

He shakes his head too, but isn't sure how to explain why he was even there. If sirens would understand, if you would. Then he thinks about the fear in your eyes at others like you, and he thinks maybe you would.

So he does tell you, he's never told anyone anything really. He's never had anyone to talk to, no people to bond with, no one to trust. If he never sees you again, and the thought makes his stomach turn worse than any seasickness could, he wants you to know him. It's an odd feeling, abstract and distant, but he feels it as sure as he knows he wants to survive. For that vague dream with no shape.

When he's done, you frown, "Humans are cruel."

They are, he thinks. Desperate, and cruel. Forged by their worst and their best experiences. Sometimes the worst are loudest.

"Have you met others?"

"No, I've heard stories. They steal from us, kill those like us, and use us as decoration." Your feathers puff up, unsettled as you fidget on your talons, "I'm not supposed to go near them- you."

"So why did you help me?"

You blink, and frown, looking down at the sand, and you look young again. Unsure, and fighting to find words. When you look up, the feeling is still there, "I didn't want you to die."

It's a simple enough reason, without a reason. He would cry, if he wasn't still so drained of strength. He doesn't think anyone has ever tried to stick their neck out for him. Let alone a creature that should want him dead.

He feels warmer, though the chill of the breeze still shivers through his skin. You huddle closer, your wing extending to wrap around his shoulders, and smile weakly, "Better?"

It is, he's still cold, but you're closer and so very warm, and he feels the ache ebb away.

It ends too soon, when a blue haired figure pops up from the waves. You droop in seconds, looking over at them, and then over at Caleb.

He sees it again. The sorrow. Unsure what it means or why you pull away from him so quickly. "They'll take you back to the humans, where you will be safe."

It's an odd feeling, he's aching, and tired, and hungry. He can't survive here, he's sure. Not with sirens at the rocks, and beasts in the ocean. Still, when he thinks about leaving behind the only person he's met that's offered him anything… he feels… sad. You help him stand carefully and hop with him towards the Lemurian. As he heads towards the figure, who offers him a kind smile, a hand takes his right one. Pulling him back. You're looking down, eyes hidden by your hair.

Your hand in his is smaller than his own, so he squeezes it, stroking your skin with his thumb, and watches as you raise your head. Looking at him with teary eyes, and he knows the feeling.

Loneliness.

Your hand trembles in his, and he pats your head again with his other one, "Don't forget me." You speak, voice breaking, the beautiful tone of your voice cracking. A broken song, full of loss. He thinks he understands, somewhat, why sirens are so dangerous. Part of his soul wants to stay here, so you don't look this sad anymore.

You're not tying him to you, though, you are not calling him with the song. Because he cannot survive here.

He's worried, you can't either.

"I'll see you again one day, I promise."

You do not smile, and this time you release him, and hop back, then turn, and leave.

"I wouldn't follow, child." The figure in the waves speaks to him, watching as he takes a step forwards, towards you. "This place is no place for a lad. If you stay, you'll join many others in a watery grave."

He pauses, and hesitates, before walking into the water, towards the blue haired creature.

"Let's return you, where you belong."

—----

As Caleb grows up, he does rejoin a crew. He trains, and he learns and he becomes a capable pirate. In his twenties, he loses his right arm in a fight. Replacing it with a hook, and taking over a crew. He has no interest in treasure, not really. He does not starve anymore, and he can go wherever he pleases. Free at the helm of his own ship. A crew that follows him, as long as he proves why they should.

Instead, he searches, for a second version of the map to the fountain of youth. His younger brain cannot remember the route, or the location in the map of his old captain. He cannot recall anything else, other than storms plague the area.

No matter how long he stares at his own maps, no matter how much he seeks out philosophers and cartographers, he cannot find the answer to his greatest question.

A way to get back to the siren who saved his life.

In his dreams, he hears the sound of your voice, and the low sad note that summoned his route back to humanity. He sees flashes of gold, and mismatched eyes. White down and speckled feathers.

Scarred lips and pearlescent scales.

Memories that he fears might fade too much with time, and his desperation to keep his promise, to you, keeps him moving. He owes you, and he intends to repay it, and with his own ship, he prays he will finally be able to alleviate your loneliness.

A condition he knows intimately, as it plagues his own steps, and has, all of his life.

What his younger self could not understand, his older self has pieced together. The sorrow at the parting, the yearning to stay, the fluttering in his chest at your kindness. He hopes the feeling is not too late now, that you are still out there. That maybe you crave to meet him again too. Waiting for the day he fulfills his promise. He has never forgotten you, and he doubts he ever can. Like you are a ghost haunting him, but he would have it no other way.

As his ship docks in a local merchant town, he leaves his crew to their work, and goes to investigate if anyone will have answers for his search. That the fountain of youth is out there, though he cares little if it exists, it is the closest he has to a location for you.

Every time, he goes through the same process. If he is not laughed at, he sits and listens to someone spout about myths at him. Each time, he bites his own tongue. To hear strangers tell him about how 'sirens are real, I swear', he cannot help but want to laugh.

Perhaps if he couldn't still feel the heat of your hand in his, he would think himself crazy as well.

Instead, he finds nothing, but the ravings of a drunk, and leaves. As he wanders through the town, watching as merchants advertise their catch of the day, supplies, and treasures, he returns to the docks. Where he finds chaos.

A large net is thrown over a figure, who struggles and snaps. Pulling at the rope with blooded hands, as swords are poked at them.

"A real beast, can you believe it?"

"We'd make a fortune, where did it even come from?"

"The ocean, the damn thing came out of the ocean."

He's barely able to approach, when he sees the creature in question raise their head, and open their mouth.

Then they sing.

A heartrending eulogy, of loneliness and heartache. A song that wraps the surrounding area, that sends that familiar skittering of his heart. Caleb watches as the crowd freeze, their eyes turning gold, and their bodies akin to stone as the music holds them.

As he looks about, he realises it has not claimed him, and it affirms something deep, deep in his chest.

An electric feeling, akin to sailing through the storm. A feeling that reminds him of every time he thinks he might get close to an answer. The rush of a fight, the rush of excitement at freedom.

Even if he would trade it for song's shackles.

When he approaches, he watches as your eyes widen, and then narrow. Your song peters out, and you pull back into the net, "Why are you fine?" You snap at him. He does not bother to answer you, pulling the net away, cutting it through with his hook, and extends his hand.

You do not take it, staring at it, then at him. Wary, and unsure. Then he sees your talon, bloodied, and torn up. When you make to stand, you stumble and wince. He sees the gold fading from eyes around him, sees your darting gaze, fear starting to re-enter it, and before you can react, he has lifted you into arms.

Then he runs.

Your yelp would make him laugh, if he were not focusing so much on where he was going. Navigating through the docks back to his ship, he grabs a covering from some cargo to throw over you, ignoring the squawk you let out, and demands his crew prepare to sail. Ignoring questions, and looks, as they watch him bring someone onto the ship.

He hopes they'll run with their imagination, and leave him be.

When he places you down in his cabin, you scrambled back from him, away from his grasp. Kicking out with your feet, though the action clearly hurts as you wince at it.

It's like looking in a mirror, from all those years ago.

Except you're different. Older, still just younger than him, but he'd make a guess in your twenties too. The down has turned into full feathers, long and decorated in speckles, white and grey, like a seabird. Your legs are longer now, you no longer resemble a chick, instead he imagines you do not need to hop about. He almost likens you to a seagull, almost.

Scales cover the majority of your torso, neck and face too, still as glistening as he remembers, and your scars are still familiar. Mismatched eyes with the pretty gold gleam to them, the ring strong around your slitted pupils.

When you flap your left wing, he is drawn once again to the right. It is far smaller, the feathers have grown out, but it does not move much in your agitation.

"If you wish to make to kill me, you best hurry. I can make you drown yourself." You snap, and he finds himself blinking, before he smiles lopsided at you.

"I know I'm older, but I can't look that different right?"

He watches, as you glare, and your eyes do not soften. Wary, anxious, and ready to fight the second he gets too close. It is a moment of waiting, before something painful settles in him. Realisation. A loss of something precious.

You don't remember him.

Not him, or his promise.

He has sought you out, all these years, desperate and desiring, and you do not know who he is.

"Ah." He exhales, sitting at his chair, the pain sinking through him, like he is trapped again. Tied by the rope to a ship going under the waves.

It is your wince, that shakes him out, the sight of a gash in your leg, that makes him move. Almost as though his body works without his soul. He goes to find his aid kit, and then approaches you. You bare fangs at him, flapping your wing, and extending your uninjured talon in threat.

It aches. Still, he owes you.

"You can either bleed out in my cabin, or let me help you. It's up to you." He tries to keep his tone level, so you do not hear the agony in his soul. He has heard the stories of sirens drawing out desires. He does not know if it's true, but he does not want to add to the complications of the day.

His words make you hesitate, and he watches as you slowly wait, then extend your injured leg. Settling your wing, and settling your feathers. You do not stop glaring, but you stop baring your fangs. He kneels at your talons, and with careful hand, tends to your wound.

You wince, and he apologises softly, hand steady, careful not to catch you with his hook. You look down at it once, and he watches you look at your own arm and wing, before you turn your head away. He wants to ask, so many things.

Why you're even here?

What brought you to a place you knew was dangerous?

Instead, he tends to you, and when you settle properly, no longer even glaring at him, he bandages your leg, and lets you test it. When you try to stand, you stumble, but catch yourself before he can help.

"This is going to make getting back difficult." You exhale as a sigh, hopping about a bit. As he watches, he sees you when you first met. Smaller and far more fluffy. Like a chick, hopping about to help him when he was injured. You're not as tall as him still, but you can stand up tall enough to reach his chest.

"Tell me where you need to go, and I'll get you there." He offers, and though you look at him with doubt, he holds your gaze. The pain of your forgetting him aside, he did not look for you to abandon you now.

If you don't remember him, it's fine… It hurts, but it's fine.

He owes you at least, he can pay back this much.

You hop over to his table, grab his knife with one hand, and look at him. He watches as you hold it, and makes no move to stop you. Even as you are closer to him, even as he can see the glittering gold in your irises. Even as it would take very little, for you to plunge it into his chest.

He knows how dangerous a siren is, you don't need a knife for him.

All it would take is a song, and his ship and crew will dash themselves upon the rocks.

So he does not fear the knife in your hand, and you must realise this as you watch him, as he makes no movement to stop or hurt you. So you nod to yourself, turning to the map, and stabbing the knife into it. At an empty point in the ocean. "Here, take me here."

"Very well, stay here. I doubt the crew will take kindly to the wings."

You scoff, turning away from him and when you smile it is still that lopsided smile, tugging at your scarred face. But you flash a fang at the same time. A threat, he notes. "You should worry more about their hearing."

"If you sink my ship, you'll struggle to get home." He reminds, then watches as you shrink in on yourself in frustration. The chances of you finding another human who won't tie you in a net, he knows, is minimal. Sirens are a myth. Where they are not a story or tall tale, they are something to hate or fear.

You don't answer him, but you do carefully hobble over to his bed, curling onto your side and wrapping yourself in your wing. "Fine, go on then human. I'll stay here, and behave."

—--

As soon as his orders are given, Caleb returns back to his cabin, this time with food. He offers it to you, and watches you tilt your head.

"Do… sirens not eat?"

You blink at the question, then laugh. A sound that prickles the back of his neck, like lightning over the sea. "We eat, mostly the bones of sailors."

"I can only offer you salted meat and beans, unless you fancy asking the crew nicely."

He does not imagine the small smile, the low laugh, and the way you take the plate from him, spearing some meat and shoving it into your mouth starving. He thinks about how he clawed coconut meat out of a shell, to shove into his own mouth. He almost laughs. Almost.

"Tastes bad." You grumble, but don't stop chewing. Starving, likely, but not impressed with pirate food.

"If you're around when we get to port next, I'll make you something better." He offers. Watches as you look at him, some pork hanging out of your mouth, as you tilt your head, and then swallow. "Maybe you can tell me what you'd rather eat."

He watches the wary look, then the glance down at your plate, then back up at him, "I like fruit and fish." It's cool and cold, said without much inflection, but he notes it down mentally.

Fruit is expensive, but he's sure there's enough treasure to sell on the ship, to pay for anything you would want to eat. He can bring it to you, whenever you like. He'll keep this crew moving for the end of time, if that would help him offer you things to bring back recognition in your eyes.

"Why help me?" You ask, "Sirens don't have treasure. We don't-" He watches you swallow, looking away, "We don't have much of anything really."

It hurts, to look at you. He wonders what happened to you since he let the Lemurian bring him back to humanity. He regrets it deeply, not going back. Maybe then you would not have forgotten.

"Someone helped me, a long time ago. Pay it forward, I suppose."

"A kind pirate… I've heard enough stories to know that's odd."

"A siren that hasn't sunk my ship, I suppose we're both full of surprises."

You laugh this time, it's softer, and you shrug your shoulder, shoving the now empty plate away from yourself, "I've never been the best siren."

He thinks of you pulling him out of the waves, cutting through the rope, pulling him to sandy shores, and breathing life back into him.

He thinks of how small you both were, and how broken. He thinks of how sad your eyes had been, and how kind you had been. How you had offered him food without a cost, and gentle hand tending to wounds.

You were a terrible siren.

Terrible really, to have forgotten him, and left him alone with this ache in his chest.

"Well, then I suppose I'm a bad pirate. Get some rest, your wound needs time to heal." He stands, and goes to leave. Your hand reaches out, grasping at his hook. It is so fast, and so sudden, he turns, pulling his hook away, and looking down to your hand, checking it frantically. Ensuring he has not caught you.

"Are you-"

"Fine, I'm fine. Sorry. I-" You are staring at his hook, then you look at your own hand, like it is a beast you have never seen. "I don't know what happened. Excuse me." You pull back and away, out of his grasp, like you're running from him, and then go to lie back down on his bed. He watches, staring down at where the hand you had grabbed, all those years ago, used to be.

It hurts to look at it, cold and metal and dangerous.

Maybe he's simply too different for you to remember. Older, changed…

It is a cruel realisation.

Are memories easy to return, or must he accept his siren has forgotten him?

—---

The journey is easy, without storms, perhaps having a siren on board made sailing far safer.

He inspects the map a little, where you stabbed it through with a knife, and wonder if the island he had been searching for really had been so close this whole time. When he asks you about the fountain of youth, you scoff, and ask if he truly believed such a legend.

He hadn't. Not really, not until a siren had pulled him out of the ocean.

Now, he thinks, he'll believe anything.

The crew assume he seeks out treasure, and you muse that they'll find some coconuts and skeletons, if they're that desperate.

Over the course of the journey, he spends time in the cabin with you. Unable to bring you out, while he worries the crew will see and attack you for fear. He apologises for it, but you shrug, as though it's more surprising he's kinder to you.

You still don't seem to trust him, glaring whenever he gets too close, or baring fangs when he almost touches you, but for the most part… you tolerate him.

Whatever has happened in the time you've been apart, has not left you as soft as you were when you met.

"Try this instead." He offers, grilled fish pushed forwards on a plate. You look down at it, and he knows he doesn't imagine the hunger in your eyes. "I tried my hand at fishing."

You laugh at this, amused at the thought, looking down at his hand and hook, "Human hands can catch fish?"

"We use nets, and rods."

He watches the curiosity in your gaze, filtering through the distrust, "Nets? Like the thing they threw on me?"

"Yes, but with smaller holes, so the fish can't swim through, and lighter."

You accept his description, sitting down to try it. He watches, anxiety churning his stomach, as you eat. When your face softens, and you devour messily, the anxiety turns to joy. A thrill of satisfaction, you do not offer feedback, but the way you lick your hand after, and then the plate, assures him his efforts to cook had not gone amiss.

Even though spices were worth their weight in gold. He can only imagine the horror of his crew, as he uses their trade for the siren he has hidden away in his cabin.

After that, you show an interest in the food he brings, curious and watchful. At some point, he sneaks you through the ship, and into the kitchen. To watch as he grills and chops. He bars the doors, just in case.

You sit to the side, stretching out your newly healing leg, and titling your head to follow his movements. "You put effort into it."

He shrugs, he doesn't always. Not really. He's only ever cooked when he has to, and he does not find any real pleasure in it. Not until he had seen the pleased look on your face. "Everyone needs to eat." Is all he says instead.

It becomes a mission, to see what he can make, that you like, and what you dislike. He cannot get you fruit, there is no port in sight before the end of the journey, but he can feed you with fish he has caught, and cooked by his own hand.

It is the night before they land, that you finally query him. Speaking up, and stepping over to him where he pours through maps for other treasure his crew yearn to go after. "Why are you helping me?"

"I told you-"

"Someone helped you… but why me?"

He smiles, unbidden, and looks at you. You're so beautiful, gleaming like a pearl under the light, the tone of your voice sings to him without you driving him to the rocks, and he cannot help but want to follow you into the waves.

There is no part of him, that would not help you. Even though you do not remember him. Do not remember how gentle your hand was as it cleaned blood off his face, and offered him coconut on the silvery-blue sand. Listened to him share his life with you.

"Why not you?"

You frown, and he laughs, "Sorry pipsqueak-"

"Excuse me?" You lean forwards, the gold around your pupils flares, swallowing your irises as you look at him, pupils widening. He can smell the sea air on you, salt and the sweet flesh of coconut. He cannot quite help himself as he looks down at your lips, partially open, bowed. Soft, he imagines. So soft.

He swallows, "What's wrong?"

"What did you call me?"

"Pipsqueak? Sorry it was-"

You move back, tilting your head, and you look like the you he met again, frowning and thinking. "Pipsqueak. I've heard it before."

He shudders, watching you, relieved and disappointed to not be able to smell you, to not be able to stare down at your lips. So close to leaning forward, despite knowing you would not react kindly. He has never felt so parched before.

It is only after you blink at him, the gold receding, that he snaps out of it, to hear you. "Well you're-"

"Smaller… than the others." You walk away, talons clicking against the wood. He feels nauseous, "I wonder where I heard it."

When he speaks, it's through a tight throat, "Who knows." It's on the tip of his tongue.

Me. Me.

Remember me.

I'm right here.

But you shake it off, shaking out your feathers, and shrugging, and when you look back at him, you're back to the you he is learning about now.

He greets the day they land with sorrow. Dragging his feet, allowing his crew to disembark and explore, at the very least, he thinks they'll find some food to bring back. He walks with you to the familiar shore. The sand is as silver-blue as he remembers.

During the walk he is quiet, and he feels you peering at him. Standing on your leg easily now, there are no other sirens, his ship has not faced danger, and he wants to ask what happened, but he is unsure if you would even tell him.

The world doesn't seem as big here now, he does not feel as wary of the sea. He is not scared of sirens.

He is, however, scared to say goodbye to you, and never gain your recollection.

"You're upset." You speak finally, watching him carefully, "Are you disappointed there is no treasure?"

There is a treasure, he thinks, but it is not gold, and he definitely does not have it in his hands. "Well, a mystery island, home to sirens, you'd expect something."

Your huff is so irritable, he cannot help but laugh, reaching his hand out, he rubs the top of your head. Watches as you freeze, the feathers puffing up, eyes wide and gold swallowing your mismatched gaze. "It's fine, pipsqueak, you're home aren't you?"

"Home…" You exhale a sigh, and then pull away from him, looking out over the sand. "Sirens aren't meant to owe humans."

"I imagine they're not, no."

You flap your working wing, and look back out over the ocean, "How do I pay you back?"

Remember me. Remember me.

"There's no need."

"Pirates like treasure, right?"

"I thought you said you didn't have any."

He watches you, as you begin to pace. It's similar to the hopping you did. Long talons strutting in the sand. Kicking it up. Your feathers rustle and do not settle, and each movement catches the light against your scales. He wants to touch your head again, feel your feathers under his fingers.

He doesn't want to say goodbye to you. Not now.

"I can get some."

He'll take anything, if it means he sees you again. He could not care less about treasure, or his ship, about a world he can explore. His dream changed a long time ago.

"I'll make you a deal, bring me the best treasure in the world, and we'll call it even."

He watches your expression, watches it morph from disbelief, to annoyance, to a pout, that almost makes him laugh. He fights it back, keeping his smile from blossoming at your glare. Watches as you snort, "My life isn't worth that much."

"Isn't it?"

He thinks it's worth more than anything.

"What if I just save your life in return?" You did a long time ago, but if you don't remember, he won't let you off his hook that easily. When you remember, you'll remember you're equal, and he'll have what he wants. Either way, he thinks he'll win.

"We'll see which comes first. You saving me, or you finding a treasure that any pirate would yearn for."

Your fangs show when you smile at him, peeking out under bowed lips, and he steps forward to extend his hand. You look down at him, then shrug, taking it with your own left hand. "Is this a covenant ritual with humans?"

His laugh is unrestrained, joy thrumming through his veins, "It's a handshake, pipsqueak."

You hum, then with far more strength than he expects. Shake his hand. He stumbles forward, his hook shooting out to try to grasp at something, and you laugh. Loud, right in his ear, releasing his hand to steady him. "Pirates don't have land legs, I see."

"Little less strength in it, next time."

As he rights himself, he tries not to focus on how you stare at your own hand. That soft smile on your face.

—-----

He cannot keep you on the ship, and when he leaves, aching and painful, missing you every moment he steps away. Caleb finds himself playing over your words in his head as he left.

'I'll come find you, when I have a treasure.'

He is less impressed, adjusting himself, when he imagines you wrapped up in rope and deposited on his cabin floor.

Treasure indeed.

When he returns to his cabin, he cleans up the feathers. Collecting them, twining string around them, and then storing them at the head of his bed. Decoration, he'd say if asked. A stored memory, he will note. If you cannot be there in person, he can find you in the scent of your feathers on his pillow.

It is a week later, when he hears a song filtering through the ship, quiet, outside his window.

He heads to the deck, ignores his crew, who gaze out unseeing into the waves with the gold over their eyes, and seeks you out, where you poke your head up through the waves. "Sirens can swim?"

"I have scales too, don't I?"

He doesn't question it further, extending his hand, so that you can take it. Pulling yourself up with his strength. When you stumble up onto the deck, steading your hand against his bicep. Shaking the water out of your feathers.

You follow him to his cabin, and he is relieved he has at least hidden the feather bundle, under his pillow, lest you see and question him. You sit on his chair, the water soaking into the fabric off your feathers, and extend to him a necklace.

"A treasure. The eye of the ocean. A pirate would like this right?"

"Would you like something to eat?" You blink, hand still extended, as he ignores you, picking up a basket from the side of his room, where he has been holding onto fruit. Replacing them in the hopes you'd return one day soon.

As he offers grapes and lychees to you. He watches the glittering of your eyes, the excitement as you lean forwards. The fan of your tail bounces as you do so. "What are these?"

"Fruit, you can try them."

He imagines you don't have much cause to see much of the world. Unable to get too close to humans. "They don't look like fruit?"

"What fruit have you tried?"

"Coconuts and limes, they grow on the island back home."

"Then you should try these, tell me if you like them."

You look at him, titling your head, and then reach out, popping a grape into your mouth. He watches, as your feathers puff up, your eyes close, and you smile, and then descend on the offering. He watches as expensive treats disappear in seconds, to greedy hand and happy preens.

You coo, trill and fidget in his chair. They do not last long, and you lick juice from your fingers. Sharp fangs dripping. "They're good." You offer, honest and warm, "Almost as good as that fish you cook."

He feels shot through the heart. Tight and aching. He wants to reach out and lick juice from your lips, his fingers twitching in his lap. "I'm glad." Choked and suffocating.

The god of tides must be laughing at him.

You offer him the necklace again, "It's worth a lot."

It may be worth a lot, he notes, it's beautiful, but it's worthless to him. If he takes it from you, he knows he will only sell it, just to buy more treats for you to devour greedily.

 "It's not quite what I'm after."

The answer makes you frown, so he changes the topic, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

He's never been happier to hear an affirmative from anyone in his life.

—---

The next time you visit, it is with gold coins. He hears the song send his men to sleep, and while he wants to argue with you, for your methods, when he sees you sitting on the side of his ship, a wing extended out for balance. His voice dies in his throat.

It is no wonder sailors will die for you, when you gleam like gold and sing your chains around his heart.

That night, while his men sleep, he steers his ship, with you sat at the helm with him. Watching him.

"It must be difficult to have to use a big beast to move through the tides."

"Humans make do with what we have to travel."

You nod, as though you still pity him somewhat, but do not say anything else, instead staring out across the ocean as the ship moves. Cutting through steady waves.

The weather is always calm when you visit.

"They're old coins."

"I can see that."

"From a dead civilisation."

"How interesting."

"You're very hard to please, you know."

He's not. Every moment you visit, he is pleased without equal. Every time he sits with you at his side, or hears your song announce your arrival, he wants little else than to drown for you. He is very easily pleased. You just have not realised what to offer, to please him greater than any other pirate could be.

"I never see any other sirens." He comments, as you hum to yourself, comfortable to stay by his side, as you waste the hours of the night.

You look at him then, voice halting, and tilt your head, "There are none left, they left home, and never came back."

His hand slips off the wheel, before he grasps it quickly, lest he capsize them all. "They abandoned you?"

He watches as you lean back, far enough you could fall off the ship. Talons gripping the side of the ship. He knows if you fall you'll be fine, the ocean is your home, but he still very nearly pulls you back. A fear of you disappearing, embedded in his soul. "They never wanted to be around me, it's better they're gone. I don't have to worry about your ship sinking."

"You worry about me?" This time you glare, but he can see the agitation in your feathers. Wonders at your embarrassment. Thrills at the idea.

"I can't let you die, while I owe you."

"Sure, pipsqueak."

You huff, but settle back down, and he spends that night, gazing at the stars and moon with you. To the tune of the long, low eulogy, that takes him back to that beach, and the sorrow as you sought help just for him.

—--

When you visit him next, it is not on the sound of your song. You sneak through his ship, and he awakens with you stood over him. Grin on your face, and knife in your hand. He blinks awake at the sharp blade to his throat, and groans as the recognition filters in, "If you want to kill me, don't wait for me to wake up."

You laugh, bouncing back, and placing his knife down. "You're hard to scare."

"I'm used to the threat."

He'd almost died before, he has little to fear than losing you.

"Boring."

"What did you bring today?"

He sits up in bed, the cover falling down around his waist. Bare skin catching your eye. He watches, and fights the grin and pride he feels, when he notices the swallow. The way you glance down at his chest, follow the lines of scars over his skin, down to where the covers pool around his stomach.

Your feathers agitate, flutter, and flick, and you force your eyes away, when you realise he is watching you too. "You sleep vulnerably."

"It's sleep, it's naturally a vulnerable state, pipsqueak."

"Foolish. Your skin is squishy."

"Is it?"

He knows he doesn't have scales, but he's sure his body is a little sturdier than that. You nod, poking him in the stomach, and the heat of your skin makes him feel too warm. You freeze as you make the contact, then splay your hand over his abs, watching it. Feeling his muscles twitch under your hand. "Soft." You whisper, "No wonder sirens like to devour humans." He watches you lick your fangs. The gold around your pupils expands, along with your pupils. Swallowing your gaze in gold and black.

He has never felt like a meal before anyone before, he can't say he dislikes the way it burns his skin.

If you wanted to devour his bones, he'd let you. Sharpen your fangs on him, drown him with your hand around his throat. Sing him to an eternal slumber. You lean in, like you're drawn without conscious thought, to sniff at his neck. Your feathers rustle and your wing extends, and when he speaks, he knows his voice breaks, "Is that what you want?"

You shiver, as his breath skirts your cheek, nose touching the skin of his throat for a second, before you shake yourself. Pulling away, and he misses it instantly. Wants to display his throat for your fangs again. Wants to lay you over his bed, and see what noises he can draw from you.

There is no doubt in his mind, you would sing beautifully for him.

"I didn't bring anything."

"Nothing?"

You shake your head, sitting at the end of his bed, watching him. "I was bored. The ocean was boring me. So I came to see you."

You came just to see him, and the desire peters away into warmth and joy and a need to touch you. Just to touch you. So he does, reaching out, to brush feather and hair from your face, and trace the line of your cheek just a little. He's still in a dream, he thinks, wavering between being awake and being blissfully unaware. As you tilt your head just a little into his hand, just for a moment, he watches your eyes close, and your face soften.

That night, you sit, and you talk, about all the things you've seen beneath the waves. The creatures you've met that are nothing he could imagine. The world that belongs to you, but you share with him anyway.

He listens, and listens, until the two of you fall asleep, under the moon's glow through his window.

—--

He doesn't see you for two weeks after that, the feeling clawing at him. He moves through his days hungry beyond belief, and agitated at the fact he cannot just go find you, like you find him.

He's never asked how you always can find his ship, seeking him out easily in the waves.

When he sees you again, because he will, he makes a note to ask.

—---

It is dawn, when next you come to seek him out. You bring with you a box, held in talon, that he helps you heft up over the side of his ship.

"My crew get so much sleep when you're around." He teases, to try to pretend that the weeks without you, do not hurt his soul. You shrug, unconcerned with them. Your focus is only ever on him.

On your deal.

On his life?

He's not sure.

"I brought you a gift."

"A gift?"

"It's not part of our deal. You shared with me, so I am sharing with you." You push the box toward him, and he lifts it up in one arm, bringing it, and you to his cabin. When he places it down, and opens it. He finds an array of fruit he has never seen before in his life, along with some familiar ones. Sea salt soaked, but fresh.

"I asked the Lemurians, and they said it's safe for humans to eat."

A bright red apple rests in his hand. The cost of the box is beyond anything he has shared with you, despite his attempts, and he realises once again that no amount of cost or treasure really matters to a siren. You like what you like, there is no price on it.

"Do you not like them?" You tilt your head, worry coming into your voice, a frown pulling at your face, the scars over your lips.

He smiles, finding his knife to begin carving. He cuts a slice of the apple, then cuts ears into it, offering it to you. You poke it and laugh, "A rabbit?"

"You've seen them?"

"I've seen sea bunnies, but I know of rabbits." Your fanned tail flicks and you stuff it into your mouth. Speaking through your chewing, "Tasty."

It is, he thinks, as he eats a slice for himself. He's never eaten something this delicious. He shares the entire box with you, and thinks of how he can pay back the kindness.

—--

"I can tell your voice from other humans, you know Caleb."

"That's how you find me?"

"No, not quite. Each thing in the ocean sounds different, your ship has its own sound. The shape, the fabric of the sails, the way it cuts through the water. I can tell it apart because of that. So I follow the sound, to you."

"What if I'm no longer on my ship?"

Would you seek him out across the waves? Would you find him?

"Then I'd listen for your voice, and I'd find you that way. Eventually." You nod, but there's something in your voice, a demand, a possessiveness, that matches his own.

It's an assurance he can never escape from you, and he finds comfort, and satisfaction in the shape of it. The hard edge of acknowledgement, that he can never outrun his siren, not that he'd ever want to.

He certainly has no intention to release you.

—---

The next time you bring him a treasure, you're more hesitant.

Your song this time is sad, and aching, and he comes to the deck of his ship, to find his crew unconscious, writhing.

He checks them, before his gaze finds you. In your hand lies a jewel, that he knows could buy him more ships than an armada, and he feels sick.

"I don't think any pirate would not want this one." You speak, voice cracking, and the song of it breaks his heart.

He looks down at the thing, gleaming amidst your scales, and he wants to laugh. All the wealth of the world in his hand, what a pirate he would be to turn it down. When he looks at the look in your eyes, wet and aching with agony, he reaches his hand out to wipe the tears away. "I thought you remembered I wasn't a good pirate."

Your breath jumps, and you press his hand to your cheek, abandoning the gem over the side of the ship, the sorrow bleeding away into comfort and relief. The song turns to lift, and he sits at the crows nest with you, watching the sunrise, before you leave.

—---

After that moment, you bring him things worth far less. Things you find that you like, things that you can share with him. There is no drive to pay a debt, and you do not come to him full of sorrows again.

One day his crew are singing on the deck, loud boisterous voices, that do not compare to the sounds he hears from your lips. When you visit him. You do not silence them, or make them sleep, but you sit at the door of his cabin, listening curiously.

"Humans sing too?"

"Of course, it's good for morale, makes them happy."

You look at him, "It sounds bad."

He laughs, tickled by the disappointed look on your face, but he watches as the frown morphs into a softer smile, as you close your eyes to listen. "But it sounds happy."

"Not all of us can sound like a siren."

"The sirens I knew sounded beautiful."

He doesn't have a frame of reference, the time he heard them sing, they screeched their call of death and he wanted to never hear the noise again.

Everytime you speak, or sing, or breathe, he hears music. If he had to pick between every siren song, and yours, it's a simple choice. "Your voice is beautiful." He offers, honesty dripping from his words, extending a slice of mango to you. He watches your feathers ruffle, the way you duck your head. Taking it from him, and keeping your face turned away as you eat.

He wants to hear you sing and talk forever.

"It's never worked on you." You speak, "When we met, whenever I visit. You never feel it."

He had assumed you'd simply not used your power on him, left him out of your spell, he wonders if he's supposed to find you so beautiful if you cannot bewitch him. He finds no part of him cares, that whether he was under a spell or not, he's happy. Every second he spends time with you.

"Maybe I'm immune."

"But you still find it beautiful?"

"Only yours."

Only ever yours. He has travelled the world, and seen many things, but he'll only ever find beauty in you.

You gleam under the glow of candles, and he extends a hand, smiling warmly. "We have music, would you like to dance?"

Your eyes go to your talons, and then to his hand, "I don't know how to?"

"Neither do I, but it's supposed to be fun, so it's fine right? As long as you're having fun."

You blink and take his hand in yours. His hook hovers and hesitates, before you release his hand, take his hook and place it at your waist, retaking his hand in your own. "Your hook doesn't scare me."

Tight throat and desire coursing through veins, he chokes on his words. Leaning in closer to you, as he tries to force himself through the steps, he's seen others dance. It's clumsy, it does not flow, not like the music from your lips, but you laugh each time he stumbles, and you lean your head against his chest to hum along.

Caleb realises, too late, far beyond when it happened, that he's in love.

—---

"You never told me why you lived on that island alone."

"I don't really remember much, the other sirens didn't like me, they took care of me the minimum they could, but as soon as I was old enough, they left. I wasn't allowed to sing with them, and I wasn't allowed to help them hunt. They said I would bring bad luck."

"Have you ever hunted?"

"Would it upset you if I have?"

"No. Whatever you have or haven't done, it doesn't matter to me."

"Then the answer doesn't matter. I won't hunt you."

He dreams of kissing you after that, pressing you down into the sand, and tasting the salt on your lips from the breeze. He wakes up aching and desperate, burying his face in the feathers that are losing their scent, and growls against his pillow.

—-----

You find the feathers one day, amidst his pillow, and he prepares any number of excuses for why he has them.

You do not give him a response, you look at them, and place them back down, then leave.

He chases you out, but you're already gone, amidst the waves. When he is alone in his room, he debates throwing them into the sea…

But if you never return, he can't bear to lose the last thing he has of you.

It is a day later, when you return, a gleaming silver chain in hand, with new feathers tied in twine, held from it. They're beautiful flight feathers. Speckled in silver, and he takes it in hand, shaking.

"Keep them closer, maybe this siren can be good luck then." You smile, all fangs and glee on your face, watching him fasten it, and indicate where your feathers still adorn his pillow, "Then if they lose their sheen, ask for new ones, I have plenty."

He does kiss you then, biting down on your lip in desperation as your feathers brush over his heart. You bite down in return, bleeding his lip, and licking at the blood. The noise you release is a coo, a song that trembles at his hand that holds to your neck. As he suffocates for you, again, and again, and again.

When he lies down to fall asleep that night, hand around his new necklace, and your head resting on his chest, he bites down where you cut him with your fangs, and thinks about the taste of you, well into the early hours.

—---

He learns, when he tries to return your gifts, that the only thing you seem to enjoy, is time spent, and his food offered. You look at gems with no recognition for value, you have no need for clothing or expensive fabrics, and you comment that jewelry would get lost in the waves.

He cannot think of anything he could offer, that could lay his claim against your skin, like his necklace does for him.

"I'd just lose them, Caleb. It would be a waste."

He's frustrated, and he thinks about it most of his days. Stewing over the thought, wondering at it.

It is a new moon when he sees you, reclined at the helm, singing into the night, when he sees the column of your throat, where your scales glisten, and his mouth waters. His steps are unsteady, and he cages you in his arms, buries his nose in your neck and smells you like you do to him.

You always smell the same, sea salt breeze and coconut flesh. Sweet and salty, and enough to make him bite down.

Your song breaks into a whine, and you lean back against him, tilting your head so he can reach more of your neck. When you speak, your pretty voice is trembling, "You want to learn to be a siren?"

"I want to leave a mark on you, if you won't wear my gifts."

A gasp pulls from your throat when he sucks at the skin, his hook digs into the wood of the ship, gouging at it, and your hand moves to his hair, to pull him closer, or push him away he can hardly tell.

He can feel your feathers trembling against his skin, and amidst his sleeping crew, and the light of the moon, he marks up every part of your skin not covered in scales. While you sing for him.

When you return the favour, he bleeds against your fangs, and adds the sensation to one he will remember for the rest of his life.

—---

"Do sirens mate?"

You blink at him, from where you are lay, with your head in his lap. You reach a hand up, to poke his brow, "Do you believe me an animal?"

"No, no. I-" He hesitates. Caleb has long since forgotten you needing to remember him, he just needs you with him. Forever. He simply is unsure how to ask. "I was just curious, if you married, or-." He stops, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks.

You move, stretching out your legs and talons, and turn to hold his gaze, "I don't really know. I'm sure some do." You seem unconcerned with the question, looking in his face for something. Sharp gold pupils and predator gaze.

He wonders what you see that softens your face, that makes you hum a long warm note, and lean over to bite his bottom lip, "Maybe this one does." You whisper, kissing him, hand pulling him down, on top of you, "They quite like a pirate, you see."

Caleb chokes on his words, and feels the small string of his restraint snap, like it always does when you touch him, bite at him, sing for him. He kisses you, and kisses you, until neither of you can breathe. You can hold your breath far longer than he, so you chase him, and he has to hold your neck to keep you from following. So he can gasp.

You whine, and try to bite his hand, but eventually settle as he sucks in air. Laughing a little at his red cheeks, and his hooded eyes. "Perhaps I should teach you how to hold your breath for longer."

He leans in, growling against your lips as he goes to kiss you again, "Maybe you should."

He does not stop till you're gasping, desperate and ravenous. He definitely understands, above all else, how you could destroy ships. He would follow you into the abyss with ease, if drowning tastes like you, it's all he wants.

—--

"Why do you sing?"

The question halts you, from where you are sat, chewing more apple slices on his bed. The juice runs down your fingers as you pause and look at him. Sharp fang crunching through tart skin.

He swallows, and refocuses, as you offer a questioning hum.

"Your singing, you make the crew sleep when you visit, but you don't kill us. I thought sirens sang to hunt, but you sing often."

"You said you liked it." Is the only response you offer, and his heart skips and jumps and thunders.

He approaches you, moving the plate of fruit away, tilting your head up with his hook to steal the slice still held in your mouth with his own. As he chews it, sweet, and satisfying, he smiles, "I do."

"Then why would I stop?"

"I like a lot of things you do." The tip of his hook rests over your throat, where your voice vibrates, and he watches as your eyes gleam, pupils expanding. "Would you do all the things I like, without stopping, for the rest of time?" He teases when he speaks, his hand brushing feathers back, dancing over scales and skin, circling marks he has left.

Yet he means so much more than he's managed to say, so many things he's not sure he's ready to voice yet. Fear and desperation, that maybe you would run from him, if he ties you down to him. Even if it is all he wants. To tether you to him.

Your deal hangs over your shoulders, and he wonders if you want to break it. To be free.

Sirens should be free, he thinks. Yet he cannot find it in himself to do so.

Your voice comes out in a low croon, and his legs tremble. Despite knowing your spell does not work on him, he sometimes thinks it must. To tremble him to nothing, and bring him to his knees. He can lead a crew of men, kill where he must, but he would bow at your talons for eternity, if that was what you wanted from him.

As long as you want him.

"Maybe if you can make it worth a siren's while, I'll consider it." You tease back, your wing fluttering at your side.

Caleb will make every moment spent with him worth it. Offer you his heart on a platter, his bones and his flesh, his life and his blood. You care little for the material, so you can have his very body, to devour or to love, he does not care.

As long as it is you. As long as his siren never leaves him, he'll never need anything else.

—---

It is when he has not seen you for a week, that he finds his ship in a storm unlike any other. The god of the tides must wish to claim his soul, for stealing one of his sirens.

For evading death as long as he has.

For daring to want more than he was given as a grubby brat on the streets of that old port town.

When the great beast capsizes, with him and his crew, he sinks through the water, and aches. He does not fear death, not anymore, the need to survive was replaced with the need for you. A clawing desire to never have a moment without you.

Now he will die without seeing you, without saying goodbye, and without knowing if you would have spent your life with him.

It is agony, to lose his dream.

He only hopes you will be happy and safe, into the future. Though the greedy part of his soul, hopes you never find anyone who you like as much as him.

As his eyes drift closed, and the water fills his lungs, he hears it one more time. The soft eulogy of the ocean, and the comfort of the voice he adores so deeply. Carrying him to the bottom of the ocean, where all sirens are supposed to lead.

—---

There's a song on the edges of his consciousness. It lilts and it lifts. He has not heard it before, but he knows the voice. There is no sorrow, no ache, just love, and adoration. He seeks it out in the darkness, moves towards it. So that he can grasp with his hand, and hold it close.

Answer the unspoken question in the tune.

As light filters through eyelids, he is sore, and aching, like he has gone back in time. Looking up from sand at a clear blue sky, except this time, he sees you straight away. Perched beside him, singing for him, luring his soul back to you.

He tries to speak but his voice is sore, he coughs up some sea water, and your hand helps steady him, rubbing at his back. Quieting as you watch him come alive again.

When he can speak, when he can move, when his body stops screaming at him, he laughs weakly. "You saved me, I guess the deal is done."

It's all he can think to say, as he watches you. Watches those mismatched eyes, with the golden ring around your pupils, and then freezes as you smile. Soft, and familiar, and full of recognition, "I've saved you before. I think now, you owe me."

"You remember?"

"I remember you insulting my height, incredibly rude." There are tears in your eyes, as you help him sit up, as your hand takes his cheek and touches him, runs over his face, down his neck, to his chest, where you try to feel his heartbeat. Closing your eyes to the song of it. "You're not allowed to die."

He laughs, wet and rough, as he presses your hand closer to his heart, "I'll make a concerted effort, pipsqueak."

"You're not allowed to leave me."

"Easily."

"You're to love me."

"Every day."

He watches your breath catch, and leans in closer, so that he can rest his forehead against yours.

"Your soul belongs to me, and your body."

"Every part of it."

"The day you do die, you're mine to devour."

"Bones and all."

You brush your nose against his, eyes flickering to his lips, and back to his eyes, "Until the day I'm satisfied, you're bound to me, and sirens are greedy."

He kisses you, and kisses you, because his heart is yours, his body, his soul. Everything he is, is yours, and as he sees the hunger and greed in your eyes that matches his own, he knows it will be a very long time before the deal is satiated.

There is no world where he's satisfied, he will always want more, and he knows you'll want the same. A song eternally unfinished for just the two of you, just the way he wants it.

[weareallgonnaliveforawhile]

In an AU where Astyanx lives, Eurylochus would have a much bigger role in taking care of him than people think.

Personally?

Eurylochus is the second in command on a ship that's full of men doing their best to go home. That is to say, Odysseus would be very busy whether he wanted to be or not. In an au where Astyanax's identity is being hidden, then there's the thing of Ody can NOT be hiding in his room constantly raising this kid because if he is, then the rest of the men don't know where the fuck he is. If his identity isn't being hidden, then it'll still fall to Eury to do a decent amount of child rearing as one of the people Ody trusts most in the world.

After the ocean saga, I imagine Eury tries to make up for the fact he nearly got all of the men killed and latches onto Astyanax a bit tighter. Him being willing to leave behind the pig men on Circe's island was him being like 'Yeah, I don't think it's possible to save them, let's get the fuck out of here' just like in canon with the only change being him tightly clutching onto Astyanax while this is happening.

If Astyanax was somehow turned into a pig then I imagine during the entire conversation Eury is holding onto this tiny piglet for dear life and treating any stray animal or plant for that matter as if it's gonna kill the baby.

Narratively?

Eurylochus is the voice of the crew and the representation of Odysseus's humanity. He's willing to sacrifice men at the start when Ody isn't and that's something that swaps further into the musical (I will go on a whole rant about Eury being Odysseus's humanity, the thing that makes him human). All of this is to say that as Odysseus gets crueler with his morals, Eurylochus gets kinder. Where he'd once be fine with sacrificing someone else if it meant more got to live, he becomes aghast at the thought of killing one of the men that's fought so long to go home.

This is seen in his treatment of Astyanx. If he was brash to the kid at first, he becomes softer, caring. Maybe he sits with him and tells him stories of the war. When Odysseus is charting out his maps or having an episode (which is to be expected on a ship full of war veterans), he sits beside Astyanx. Maybe they talk and maybe they don't. But it's VERY important that they get closer. Close enough that on a ship where traditional family dynamics get skewed very fast, since it's entirely full of traumatized middle-aged men who have questionable ideas on how to interact with kids, Eurylochus becomes almost a second dad of sorts. It takes a village, after all, and some villagers get closer to the child than others.

During Mutiny, Eurylochus is the voice of the crew. And the crew is starving. Not just hungry, but a true type of starving that eats at your stomach and blurs your vision until you know nothing but the desperation of needing to eat. It'd be worse than in canon. Eurylochus would give any last rations he had to Astyanax. Not just because he'd do that as a person at this time. But because it'd parallel Odysseus in a sense. Ody let other people hurt so he could get home, so he could live (not saying this is a bad thing, just saying this is what he did) and Eurylochus let someone else take something they needed despite the fact that he would hurt, that if he didn't eat the ration he might not get home (at least to his hunger ailed brain). So yeah, I don't imagine Astyanax would be visible for Mutiny because Eury would've had him tucked away somewhere. Why force the boy to watch his uncle father Eurylochus betray his father?

Either way, long story short, Eurylochus would be a central part in Astyanax's life. From a reluctant uncle, to a protective uncle to a peusdo second father to a ghost, he is a very important figure in Astyanax's life that can't be underestimated.

[opbackgrounds]

since you brought it up, what is your ideal op video game?

Well, honestly, I don't think a perfect one piece game could exist. The charms of the series is the expansive world and its depth of story, and achieving both in a single game would be difficult, if not impossible. I also think there are way too many games rehashing the manga, and that's boring. So many possibilities exist beyond the Straw Hat's journey.

I do think it'd be cool if there existed a sort of build your own pirate crew game set in the op world. I'd actually set it in the past during Roger's last journey, with the goal of becoming the Pirate King. It gives a hard 3 year time limit to beat Roger to Laugh Tale. The Four Blues are the starting zones, and which ones you pick change certain bonuses you get at the start. Like, the East Blue has the reputation for being the weakest sea so combat would be easier but you'd have a higher chance of recruiting a crew member with a Dream at the cost of lower Reputation. Since it's pre Buster Call Ohara, the West would give higher chances of recruiting researchers, and the North would have higher science and military backgrounds, etc.

It'd be a mix of peocedurally generated locations and hand crafted islands, and as you go along recruiting people and fighting you gain Reputation, which in turn lets you fight and recruit stronger people. The bigger your crew the more you have to plunder to keep them happy, and if any of your crew have a Dream you have to help them achieve it or else they'll mutiny or leave the crew, but as Dreamers they're stronger with bonuses based on their skill or occupation.

Maybe how you resolve conflict also affects the type of people attracted to your cause, so if you gain a reputation for brutality more bloodthirsty pirates are more likely to follow you, and they get pissed if you go too long without letting them kill something. As you go along you gain maps, log poses, and other things to help survive the Grand Line, but if your Reputation gets too high a Big Player will come after you to knock you down a peg. Like, stay in the East Blue too long and Garp'll come knocking, and if you lose or fail to flee then he'll wipe out your crew and you have to start over.

Once you hit the Grand Line you gain a new Reputation meter specifically for the Grand Line. No one cares if you're the baddest dude in the East Blue once you hit Twin Capes, but if you find a merchant or NPC from your home sea then they'll know your Reputation and react accordingly. Same goes for the New World.

The end goal is to read the poneglyphs and reach Laugh Tale, whether by recruiting Oden, someone from the Three Eye Tribe, a member of the Oharan archeologists before they're blown up, or stealing the intel from another pirate crew. Should you achieve that goal, the game ends with an epic fight against Roger for the title of King.

There are enough canon characters from this era to make it recognizable (imagine fighting pre-Kaido Moriah!) while giving wiggle room for new characters, islands, and scenarios. I think it'd have to make the act of traveling on the high seas fun with hopefully some cool monster fights to spice things up.

Is this feasible? I don't know, probably not. But I think it'd be fun.

[thewertsearch]

Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.

Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.

Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.

You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.

That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.

I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?

Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.

Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.

It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.

They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.

More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.

And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.

Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.

And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.

Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.

This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.

The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.

The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.

He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?

To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.

She warned you, Vriska.

She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.

And it did.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

(Here are some funny little Headcanons I have about Alastor and his shadows. I want to disclose that I am doing this for myself. I have done no prior research for Alastor's Shadows; these are my thoughts and opinions. My friend @literallurker and I were talking one day about them, and this was born)

To start this all off, I firmly believe that Alastor's Shadows still have consciousness, and the one who is his actual Shadow is the one who has been with him the longest, so it knows how he truly feels.

As for the other Shadows, half of them come from his work with Voodoo magic, and the other half comes from the souls he owns.

Alastor can manipulate any shadow he wants if he tries. Though, yes, he is the 'Radio Demon,' he is shown to have a lot of control over the shadows.

I would 100% not be surprised if he used his shadow manipulation to put on little puppet shows with the shadows of souls he owns. I am talking about Broadway productions cause you know the man has old Jazz classics playing in the background.

I honestly believe that Alastor's main Shadow, aka the one that has been with him his whole existence, has a name. Now, the name of this Shadow varies depending on who you ask. However, Charlie named it "Shadowy" one day, and everyone stuck with it since the Shadow enjoyed it and Alastor hated it.

'Shadowy' personally also loves to fuck with Alastor on a whole new level because there are no repercussions for him. So what, he gets banned from leaving Alastors natural light Shadow? So what. He would just unban himself the minute Alstor was busy doing something else.

Because 'Shadowy' is so close to Alsator and knows all his darkest thoughts, emotions, and secrets, he likes to tease the other guests just as much as Al.

Imagine Husk just minding his business, and then 'Shadowy' pops up with some cards and a poker face. He is ready to play some games, only for Alastor to feel this mutiny and ruin the game midway.

'Shadowy' is also super affectionate to Alastor's friends; Rosie knows all his hand signals and how he 'speaks.' Anytime she knows more than what Alastor is, letting her know it's because the Shadow told her.

As for love interests, I also believe 'Shadowy' is extra affectionate with Alastor's partner. Al is still very touch-sensitive, so there could be many times when the partner feels ignored, so 'Shadowy' swoops in to help show how much they are loved.

This can also lead to Alastor being more affectionate with the lover because he feels terrible that his Shadow is one-upping him.

Knowing 'Shadowy' is as close to himself as possible, Alastor will often tell the Shadow to hide in his partner's Shadow to protect them and tell him what is going on in their lives.

On a slightly more suggestive note, I firmly believe that if Alastor isn't caring for his partner's needs, the Shadow will 100% step in.

After the first time, the Shadow does this, and if the partner enjoys it a lot, Alastor will allow the Shadow to join more.

[tinytalkingtina]

Songs of the Heart

Rated E | 5.1k words | Ao3 link

Fulfills the "followed", "wounded", "lair", and "whump" Mermay Bingo fills for @stmonstercalendar

Summary:

When Captain Harrington's crew mutinied against him, they took everything and left him to drown in the uncaring ocean. But a curious merman has other plans for the beautiful "star-skinned human" he stumbled across.

Tags: Steddie, Pirate Steve, Pirate Billy, Mermaid Eddie, non-con touching (Steve/Billy), public humiliation/nudity, threats of rape/non-con, blood and violence, whipping, hurt Steve, hurt/comfort, healing, singing, magic, rescue, mildly dubious consent that turns into full consent (Steddie), confident Steve, hand jobs, courting rituals, weird biology, hand jobs, mating rituals, happy ending, alternating POVs

Please mind the tags. The unwanted sexual touching happens at the beginning of the story and could fall under the rape/non-con warning to some degree. If you want to avoid that described in detail skip from "are you happy now?" to "what, you want me to beg for my life?"

Entire story, author's notes, and bingo card are under the cut!

Steve

In the end, Billy didn't even let Steve have his dignity.

It wasn't enough to steal away his crew, his ship, his title as commander of their small fleet. No, Steve’s former second mate turned mutineer made sure he’d be forced to take every possible humiliation during his fall from grace.

Billy grinned as he stroked the cords of the cat, stolen captain’s hat perched high on those golden curls he was so damn proud of.

“You know boys, we really can’t afford to waste a good set of clothes. Take it all. Not like he’ll need it where he’s going.”

Steve got in as many punches and kicks as he could, but he was no match for the entire crew when they ganged up against him.

A dozen groping pairs of hands pulled off everything, even his smalls, leaving him bare and exposed on the deck. Tommy and Jason’s fingers felt like red-hot irons on his arms holding him upright.

“Are you happy now?” he spat out towards Billy.

The new captain gave Steve a once-over, from the top of his hair to the tips of his toes. Despite the warm sun beating down, he had to suppress a shiver.

“Oh, like you cannot possibly imagine, Captain. I used to look up to you, you know? Couldn’t wait to join Harrington’s legendary crew. But this past year’s been nothing but disappointment after disappointment. Who knew, the great King of the Sea turned bitch. Honestly it’s a pity how you managed to bury your head in the sand while I turned your crew against you. Practically rolled belly up and let me take over. But then, you never did learn to plant your feet while fighting, did you.”

Billy used the cat’s handle to lift Steve’s cock, lazily inspecting it for a long minute. It took all of his willpower not to squirm when he slid the handle down further to tap at his balls.

The attention, unwanted as it was, cut through the adrenaline and fear wracking his body. A flush grew hot on his cheeks, one he was helpless to resist. Billy’s grin turned sharp and feral as he watched Steve’s cock thicken.

“Then again, maybe you don’t need to die today. Pretty boy like you, shame to waste such a nice pair of holes.” Tommy sniggered at that, the asshole. “We could see just how loud you can squeal.”

“What, you want me to beg for my life? Fuck you Billy.” Steve spit for real this time. White-hot satisfaction surged in him as his spittle hit the mutineer square in the eye.

The satisfaction didn’t last for long though. Quick as a snake, Billy’s fist grabbed his hair and held him still with a knife at his throat. Steve squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the end.

“You think you deserve a quick death after that?” Billy’s voice growled in his ear. “We’re not done, not even close. Go on, hump the gunner’s daughter while you take it.” Rough hands shoved him over a cannon. The cat’s tails swished through the air.

And then, Steve knew nothing but pain.

He lost count of how many lashes Billy made him suffer. On his back, his buttocks, his thighs, even the soles of his feet. Steve’s throat had gone raw from screams ripped out of him along with his flesh, robbing him of even his voice in the end. Underneath the cannon, he slipped and scrabbled for purchase on the planks made slick with his own blood.

At long last, the whipping stopped. Over the ringing in his ears, he couldn’t make out whatever final taunt Billy left him with while he tied his hands and legs, before shoving him unceremoniously overboard.

The shock of salt water sending thousands of stabbing needles of pain into his wounds stole what little air Steve had managed to take into his lungs before the plunge.

It was too much.

A warm pair of hands encircled his chest. Delirious, Steve leaned into the embrace, as darkness closed in.

At least his final memory would be of a soft touch.

Eddie

Eddie never meant to stray so far from his pod, from the lagoon and reefs that kept them safe from predators both two legged and finned. But a ship on the horizon meant humans. Humans who could produce more of their wondrous music.

By all accounts, he should have hated the noises that humans made, when it lacked all of the complexity of mersong. They couldn't even make more than one note with their voices at a time, much less infuse it with any magic.

And yet, something about it captivated him. Once, he’d seen a human play a stringed instrument so quickly their fingers blurred, and Eddie had fallen in love, mimicking the melody over and over until he could recreate it and keep it for himself.

So when the largest ship he’d ever seen came into view, its sails billowing in the wind like they were clouds themselves, he knew he had to journey towards it.

Eddie followed from a distance for a while, but heard no music. Swimming closer, he heard shouts and laughter. He let out curiosity-song with a huff, wanting to know what the humans on this large ship could possibly be doing if it wasn’t playing music.

His hatch-father would have told him to leave, not stick his fins in their business. That the open ocean held nothing but trouble, and to stay within the reefs that surrounded the pod’s lagoon. Where it was safe. But Eddie had never been anything but a little reckless, and this time he’d be careful. What happened last time wouldn’t happen again.

Hauling himself out of the water was no easy feat, but he worked out a way to stick his claws into the damp wood to gain enough leverage. Eddie clambered into a swinging smaller ship hanging off the side, grateful for once that his scales were deep-sea dark. Sure, his pod may view them with superstitious concern, but unlike their bright flashy fins, his scales did allow him to hide away unnoticed in the shadows.

Peeking over the edge, he saw humans all gathered together on the other side of the ship.

One human in the center seemed to hold all of the others’ attentions. Even if it was carried by dull human voices, Eddie could still hear the excitement thrumming through the air as the others stepped forward and began to remove its brown and white outer layers.

Aha, so those coverings weren’t a part of human bodies, he’d told Dustin they couldn’t possibly be fins. Eddie hummed of satisfaction. Maybe this would get rid of that know-it all attitude the fry was so fond of adopting lately.

Once the final coverings were gone, Eddie couldn’t help but stare more. This human was a male probably if the claspers jutting out from his body were anything to go by. Eddie frowned at that. Why would humans leave theirs out at all times? That was just asking for something to come up and nibble on vulnerable dangling bits.

Still the weird claspers weren’t what held his fascination.

The skin on one of his podmate’s would speckle if she sunbathed on the rocks for too long, and next to the bare one, he could spy a human with the same type of patterning. But Eddie had never seen anything like those large brown dots that marked this human all over. They were beautiful, each one a different star on his skin. He quietly hummed wonder-song, fins flaring out as he gazed at those constellations.

A human with golden hair and a large crest on top of their head stepped forward. Eddie didn’t like the look on their face: cold and cunning like a predator. Golden Hair even acted like a predator, touching the bare star-skinned human all over without hesitation, even on his claspers.

He watched, humming to fascination as the claspers swelled and grew in size under Golden Hair’s hands. Maybe this was all a human mating ritual.

Star-Skin rejected the mating offer though. With a cry, he squirted water into Golden Hair’s face.

Before Eddie could blink, the star-skinned human was pressed against a metallic object. With a growl, Golden Hair raised something in their hands and brought it down against Star-Skin’s back.

Eddie’s fins flattened in distress from the sounds of pain that followed. Golden Hair was merciless, cutting across those beautiful starmaps and drawing blood over and over again before they were satisfied.

Eventually, the star-skinned human was bound and dumped off the ship, landing in the water with a loud splash.

No one noticed a twin splash from the other side of the ship.

A trail of blood, dark and metallic, was left in his wake as Star-Skin sank. The human was writhing in pain, air bubbles leaking out of his mouth. Eddie hissed of displeasure. How dare Golden Hair leave such a beautiful treasure to die like that!

He darted over, shooing away a couple curious sharks that had already gathered. Seizing the human in his arms, Eddie swam the two of them back to the surface as far away from the ship as he could go. When they breached the surface, he turned to see if Star-Skin was still breathing. Eddie sang relief-song to find him drawing breath, even if his eyes were closed now.

The journey back to his pod and their lagoon took him nearly three times as long as it should have. Unable to swim quickly with such a large deadweight, he went through several configurations before hissing angrily at the ropes around his human’s hands and legs. One swipe of his claws tore through them, letting him settle the two of them into a side hold position above the surface. Occasionally, Eddie stuck his head back down to screech out a warning to any fish aiming for a free meal. He’d worked way too hard for more of Star-Skin’s body to be hurt; this human was his.

At last, the two of them made it to the cave where Eddie often came when he wanted to be alone, the only ocean-side entrance big enough for anything larger than a crab naturally barricaded against nosy podmates by a length of sand bar. In the center was a small tidal pool that shimmered with motes of light peeking through from the ceiling as he heaved his newfound human into it.

Eddie carefully set Star-Skin down so that his face remained above water, then got to work covering those awful wounds with seaweed. All the while, he sang of healing-song, trying to imbue as much protection as he could into his human’s body. There wasn’t much he could do for a scar that circled around Star-Skin’s neck, it was too old. But for those newly gotten, Eddie’s magic would guide his human back towards health.

Throughout it all, Star-Skin remained fast asleep. Eddie’s fins flared with pride to see that his human’s face had calmed, and his awful keening whimpers of pain grew fewer and fewer as time went on.

His human’s wounds tended to, Eddie allowed himself a moment to stare again.

The sun’s late afternoon rays poked in through holes in the cave’s ceiling, lighting Star-Skin’s face up with a warm glow.

Eddie swam as close as possible, practically climbing on top of his human to get a closer look. Star-Skin was so pretty , flushed with red all over. Poking a claw into his pink lips, Eddie was delighted to discover humans had both flat and pointy teeth. He ran his other claw through the human’s hair. Out of the water, it flopped over his eyes instead of floating around like a cloud, but it was soft and fine under his fingertips. And he had that fine hair everywhere, even on his chest and belly. Eddie hummed fascination. Giving it a tug, he also poked at the two pink nipples sitting in the middle of it all. Much like his clasper had, Star-Skin’s nubs grew harder the longer Eddie prodded.

A twitch against his tail brought his attention further down.

This close, Eddie could now see the human had only one clasper sitting on top of two round squishy sacs. On their journey back to the lagoon, the swelling had gone down to leave it small and shriveled in the water.

But now, he watched as it slowly began to fill out again.

His fins flattened against his body as Eddie hesitated. Would Star-Skin accept a mating offer so soon? But, then, Golden Hair had immediately brought out his claws when rejected. He wouldn’t do that to his human. He’d make him feel good. Eddie would prove what a proper mate should do for someone so special.

His mind made up, Eddie gave into curiosity and gave a small tug on the sacs underneath. His human squirmed slightly underneath him and his clasper gave another twitch. Emboldened, Eddie tugged a little harder. With his other hand, he ran the back of his claws up and down the shaft. Before his eyes, he watched as Star-Skin’s clasper grew larger and larger, until it pointed straight out. A shiny red tip emerged from a flap of skin, dripping small amounts of something slippery over Eddie’s hand.

Humming of curiosity-song even louder, Eddie licked at the substance. Bitter salt flooded his mouth. The taste was...odd. He went back and forth on whether he liked it or not as he continued to play with Star-Skin’s clasper.

A moan left his human’s lips. Oh, what a lovely sound! Eddie hummed back in harmony and kept up his movements, right up until Star-Skin gave a large shudder and opened his eyes.

Eddie shifted to pleasure-song. Even his human’s eyes were pretty. He could see flecks of gold and green in among the brown.

For a moment all was well. Star-Skin made no move to squirt water at him. But then:

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Steve

In the darkness, Steve floated. Bobbing up and down with the current of the water, he didn’t need to swim; something solid and cool held him aloft. Time passed, lost to the haze of discomfort. Better to sink into this in between space than face that for now.

In the void, music reached his ears: someone was singing to him, sweet and low. Each note gently burst against his consciousness, sending relaxation down his spine and banishing his pain.

Eventually, he became aware of the touch of another. Steve couldn’t help leaning into the caresses. It had been so long since anyone had treated him gently. He hadn’t let anyone in since Nancy. And after leaving everything behind for the sea, he couldn’t afford to seem weak in front of his crew.

His crew…

Steve’s mind skittered away from his last moments on his ship. The here and now by comparison was leagues ahead of anything Billy had inflicted upon him. No, better to focus on following this swell to its peak, to—

He opened his eyes to find a monster smiling down upon him.

Steve froze.

The thing might have passed for human at first glance. With wide dark brown eyes, dimpled cheeks, and soft plump lips, it bore the face of an attractive young man. Its hair was worn loose, with many colorful trinkets braided in that tinkled against each other gently when it moved. The only hint of otherworldliness there was a subtle sprinkling of scales near its hairline.

Its chest and arms similarly evoked the look of humanity. Unlike its hair, these were bare of any ornamentation. A row of jagged scars lined one side, from the side of his neck all the way down to where human skin melded into a tail with scales the color of the nighttime sea. As the mercreature flexed its muscles, it caught the light and sparkled with iridescence.

Catching his eye, the mercreature’s mouth stretched wider, revealing- sweet Jesus -rows and rows of sharp teeth, and it let out a series of chirps and trills. The sounds pushed their way into Steve’s mind, echoing sweetly. Unbidden, his head conjured up sense-memories of dozens of small pleasures: the smell of dirt newly alive on a warm spring’s day, the tart taste of strawberries bursting across his tongue. A past lover’s lips upon his skin. This creature must have been the one singing to him before.

It still held a firm grip on his cock with a claw-tipped hand adorned with tarnished metal rings. Had been touching him intently for some time, judging by the ache in his balls.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, trying to push back against the siren’s call in that enchanting music. Steve was surprised to find his voice returned to him, his throat no longer full of knives every time he swallowed.

“Mate, yes?” Sweet Jesus, it, he, could speak too. Like the notes before them, the words coming out of its mouth were a small symphony all their own.

When Steve didn’t reply in confusion, the merman let go.

“No?”

“You’re not going to eat my cock or something, are you?” The merman tilted his head. Some of the words must have eventually registered because his nose wrinkled as he let out a series of clicks and low notes. He pointed a claw at Steve’s chest.

“Mine. No-” The merman made a gnashing movement with his mouth. Trying with all his might not to flinch at seeing all of those teeth on display so close to his privates, Steve failed miserably.

At that the merman frowned. He let out a few sharp barks whose reverberations made Steve’s head ring. He winced and covered his ears against the noise, only for a pair of hands to slowly pry them away.

“I’m sorry, the song is loud. I won’t sing it again. Mates shouldn’t hurt each other, Only want to make you feel good after this.” The merman stared at him. Did he expect an answer?

“You can speak English now.” Steve said flatly. His supposed captor shrugged.

“I opened my ears to listen to your words, and set a spell-song to my throat, so my words can reach past what your human ears can hear.” Steve blinked.

“Um, okay.” Those beautiful dark eyes continued to stare, but the fins across his back and tail fell flat.

“Are your wounds still painful?”

It was at that moment that Steve became aware his back did not scream out in agony, and that his wrists and feet had been freed from the ropes Billy bound them in. Twisting, he could make out what looked like seaweed, covering him from his shoulders all the way to his feet.

“You did this for me?” The merman chirped once and nodded.

“Healing-song made them close faster.” Steve swallowed. He’d heard tales of sirens luring men to jump off their ships into a watery grave. But he’d been half-dead already when he hit the water, an easy meal for anything that swam. This creature had done just the opposite, had helped him.

“Thank you. Not that I’m ungrateful, but, why?”

The merman gave a low pitched hiss, fins fanning out once again.

“The other humans were hurting you. Ruined your constellations. Because you didn’t want to mate with the golden hair human. So I took you. Healed you as much as I could.”

“I. Mate?” Steve sputtered.

“Yes. I saw Golden Hair’s offer. Do humans always do it in front of others?”

“That wasn’t—no, we do any mating in private. Billy just wanted to humiliate me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe he did want me to become his whore, I don’t know.”

The merman’s brow furrowed.

“In private…” Suddenly, he chirped again, his eyes lighting up. “You mean alone! We are alone, no pod-mates will bother us here. No one else has seen your clasper expand, I promise.”

The merman pointed towards Steve’s cock, still somehow semi-erect and sticking out of the water, the traitor. Steve slapped his hands over it, only just now realizing how much of a show he’d been treating the creature to, allowing him to poke and prod all over like he was some sort of stallion out for studding.

“Look, mercreature—” The merman gave a harsh quick bark and shook his head.

“That is not my name, do not call me that. It is EdΞΞΞΞΞΞΞ.”

Steve felt the beginning of a headache form in his temples.

“I’m not sure I can pronounce that. Was there an ‘Ed’ somewhere in there?”

The merman growled, what Steve chose to read as frustration coming off him in waves. He made a slow lap around the pool, emitting a series of short trills and clicks as he fiddled with the trinkets in his hair. Finally, he returned to Steve’s rock.

“Not Ed. Eddie ,” he said with serious eyes and a firm voice. “Eddie would be okay for you to use as mate-name. But only you.”

Oh. Mate-name.

Oh.

The mercreature, this Eddie, he wanted to—

“Um, not that I am flattered,” Steve sputtered. “But did you not notice I have legs?”

Eddie smiled once more, the dimples back on display. He really was pretty, Steve admitted in the privacy of his own mind.

“Yes! You have legs and I do not understand how human claspers work but I want to learn. You...make pretty noises when you’re happy. And turn the colors of a sunset. Makes your skin stars stand out more. Want to make you happy. Will be a good mate if you want me.” He flushed green at the last sentence and ducked below the water so that only his eyes peeked out.

One of Steve’s hands strayed to the scar around his neck, a phantom rope choking him. “I haven’t tried to court anyone in a long time. It did not end that well when I did.”

A short dark claw touched him there, with more gentleness than Steve expected.

“Did Golden Hair give you this too?”

Steve shook his head and laughed without humor.

“No, no this wasn’t anyone on my crew. Just my own foolish decisions to blame for that one. She didn’t want me, in the end.”

He should have known that leaving Nancy behind to make a name for himself on the high seas wasn’t what she wanted. That she wouldn’t wait for him forever. That charm could make a privateer quite a lot of money and notoriety, unless he was captured by the wrong country’s navy. That his father’s patience and influence would only extend so far after saving him from the noose at the last possible minute. That Billy’s grumblings would turn dangerous, that Tommy’s loyalties could shift so easily. Eddie’s soft voice broke him out of his past bad choices.

“You can reject my offer.” He gestured to his scales. “My tail has no colors, bad luck. My pod says I was cursed at hatching. Now they don’t want me to be around any young ones after ChrΞΞΞΞ...she is gone now. Pod of the killer black-white whales hunted us down. Was an accident, but my fault. Understand if you do not want me, won’t hurt you like humans do when you reject them. Will bring you to other humans.” Crooning a soft mournful sound, Eddie jettisoned himself to the center of the small pool with a flick of his tail.

Steve hesitated to follow. There was nothing left for him back home. His own parents had made it clear they no longer saw him as their heir much less their son years ago, and Billy had stolen everything else.

And here Eddie was, right in front of him. He could have killed him while he was bound and helpless, and yet...he didn’t. The opposite in fact, the seaweed sticking to his back proof of that. When was the last time someone had cared about his well-being with no alternate motive, or wanted to make him feel good?

And well, he was already naked.

Shrugging to himself, Steve pushed off against the rock he’d been resting against and waded out to where Eddie floated.

“I don’t have a special name to give you,” Steve said. “But you can call me Stephen, if you want to use it.”

Eddie repeated it back to himself, the sound sending another pulse of happy sense-memories through Steve’s body. Slowly to not spook the merman, he reached a hand out to touch Eddie’s face, and slid his other hand into his hair.

Merfolk were warm, Steve was surprised to discover, and their skin soft. By contrast, Eddie’s hair, despite its uncanny appearance, was almost slippery. More like the seaweed currently plastered to his body than anything human.

Even while melting into his hands, Eddie’s big doe eyes went even wider. The merman let out a short squeak that sounded almost like a question.

“What you saw on my ship, what Billy did to me,” he murmured back. “That wasn’t how humans court each other. But this?” Steve pressed a kiss to Eddie’s pillowy lips, drawing back only just enough to whisper: “This is what humans do when they want to get to know someone better.”

Eddie gave a quiet pleased trill, before kissing Steve back. Well, tried to. It became rather apparent that merfolk did not normally do this, or maybe his merman in particular did not have any experience. Regardless, he more than made up for it with enthusiasm.

While they kissed some more, Steve trailed further down and laid a hand against Eddie’s back, just brushing the tips of his fingers against the edge of his fine silk-smooth fins. Underneath his lips, a shiver passed through Eddie’s body. His merman let out a little noise that went straight to Steve’s cock. He stroked against Eddie’s fins again more firmly this time, and rubbed his other hand on his merman’s hip, right where the skin melded into scales.

In his arms Eddie wriggled even more as he sang a fragment of another melody, whose deep notes fanned the fire coursing through Steve’s blood into an inferno.

“Backwards, move, please, Stephen,” Eddie gasped. “Want to—”

Steve looked down. Out of a slit in Eddie’s tail hadn’t even realized was there, he watched as twinned pale cock-like protrusions poked their way into the water.

“My claspers,” Eddie explained, his eyes glassy and even larger than before.

“Oh.” He could work his way around this. Steve experimentally dragged his fingers against them, causing his merman to moan and rut into his hand. He wanted nothing more than to rut back, but they needed better leverage.

Steve maneuvered (or well, closer to dragged) the two of them back towards the rocks lining the edge of the pool. Once his back was to them, he braced his newly healed feet against the floor and took both their arousals in hand. His cock fit snugly into the space between Eddie’s claspers, squeezing him in warmth with every stroke. The water, though it washed away any of his own, seemed to not be a problem for his merman’s excretions. It proved to be much more jelly-like, smoothing the journey of his hand.

Eddie squealed and shivered some more. his fins rustling rhythmically. All the while, he murmured a never-ending stream of “mate”, “mine”, and “treasure.”

It took very little time for his merman to reach his peak. His merman’s melodic whines and groans ripped Steve’s orgasm out of him, pushing him over the edge without warning.

As soon as they both caught their breaths, Eddie climbed into his lap, trills chirps and clear high notes bubbling out of his throat. The sound swept him away on a tide of joy, and all Steve could do was laugh.

His merman beamed back at him.

“My beautiful wonderful mate, such clever hands. I promise, I will learn. Will make you feel good, too.”

Eddie swam a lap around the pool before pausing.

“Oh! Forgot important part.” He sped back over to Steve and fiddled with one of the things in his hair, before presenting it proudly. “For you. So the pod knows you are mine.”

Steve took the offered trinket, a red triangular stone with a hole bore through the middle. Eddie had strung it onto a length of cord.

“Thank you.” He tied it loosely around his neck. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to give you in return. Or anything else.” Now that the haze of want had faded, he wished desperately for a pair of trousers or a shirt. Eddie hummed thoughtfully.

“Yes, the other humans stole your coverings. Can find others for you but now—”

His merman dove under the water, resurfacing with an armful of the seaweed he’d covered his back in. He proceeded to wound it around Steve, until a barely passable loincloth was formed.

Eddie tilted his head considering, then ducked low into the water. He stared up at Steve’s privates and hummed, this time bringing a twinge of irritation into the air.

“Will add more. Your clasper is too exposed. Fish will bite.”

“What?” Steve protested. “I’ve never had that happen if I went for a swim, what kind of fish are you talk—”

“Pod shouldn’t see either.” Eddie flushed green again. “Not theirs to look at. You are not their mate.”

The possessive look on his merman’s face was well. Endearing . Steve didn’t object again, not even as Eddie wrapped seaweed over and over until the makeshift clothing came down practically to his knees.

“Good.” A wave of satisfaction rolled off him from a single chirp. “Now no one will know a human clasper looks like squirming worm-food.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Eddie pointed to a sea cucumber wiggling across the bottom of the pool. Much to Steve’s dismay, the thing was unfortunately somewhat fleshy looking. Rather than give his merman the satisfaction, he just crossed his arms and huffed.

Eddie giggled, causing more happiness to wash over Steve.

“Now can have you meet my hatch-father without pod-mates singing rudeness. He will like you. My pretty mate. Then we will find other humans and get coverings for you. Maybe steal Golden Hair’s crest off his head. Hatch-father is good at spell-songs, will know what to do.”

Steve found himself nodding. This was not the future he’d been imagining for himself last night, but he could easily see how much better the rewritten one could be. Taking Eddie's hand, he let himself be led out of the cave and into the sun.

Thank you to saradika-graphics for the divider!

Author's Notes:

-"kissing the gunner's daughter" was a real phrase used to describe how boys in the navy would take their punishments bent over a gun barrel, that we've had Billy adapt here

-Drew inspiration for this singing-based merfolk method of communication from Brandon Sanderson's Stormlight Archives, in which the Parshendi people attune to different rhythms that they can naturally hear to express their feelings to each other. Here I adapted this to have some magic infused into the words that may influence the listener's mood. This influence can be stronger on humans, which has contributed to the myths of sirens luring men to their doom

-In my head, Wayne is considered Eddie's "hatch-father" as opposed to his biological father. Mermaid eggs for this species are fertilized externally, so clutches aren't necessarily raised by their biological parents

-Eddie's genitals are a mix of shark and crocodile traits: male sharks have paired claspers to deliver sperm that look like modified fins on the underside of their bodies, and crocodiles are able to invert their penises from/retract them back into a pouch

That's a wrap on Mermay for me, had a lot of fun working on these <3

[somepsychopomp]

Omega!Odysseus not immediately attacking Eurylochus is filling my brain with serotonin-like!!!!they are brothers your honor!!!!! :) :) :) :) they make me so happy I swear-

How does their friendship/brotherhood in this au compare to their canon dynamic?

Honestly IDK if much would change, but I have a few ideas

Firstly, Eurylochus is one of the few alphas to not get mauled by his brother in heat bc he's simply willing to show Odysseus some respect. During the Trojan War when Odysseus was lost in his heat, Eurylochus had no problem dropping his sword, getting on his knees, and leaving his hands in plain view by keeping them on his lap. I know in some omegaverse iterations, this is how alphas show deference, but I also like to imagine that most alphas also find this gesture to be very emasculating. Not for Eurylochus tho, because he's not worried about being seen as "submissive" to an omega.

He's showing deference to his king and brother. (Side note- Polites & most of the soldiers from Ithaca also have no problem doing this to calm Odysseus down.)

But when heat-addled Ody finds an alpha that's not being loud and smelly for once, he gives Eurylochus a quick sniff, maybe scents him a little, and is pleased. He also finds the familiar scent of his brother to be quite comforting & since he desperately wants Penelope, having Eurylochus around tells his omega brain "oh maybe there's no danger here? But where is Penelope? Does Eurylochus know? Will he take me to her?"

And Eury has approximately one to two minutes to scoop Odysseus into his arms and run him to the nearest ship so he can stay someplace safe for the rest of his heat. Thankfully, the Ithacan army is a well-oiled machine and have the gangplank lowered for Eurylochus, the hatch to the lower deck open, etc. etc.

As the second in command, Eurylochus takes charge of their forces while Odysseus goes through his heat. And that includes going to war meetings. Most of the other Greek kings snicker and ask him what it's like to serve under an omega, to which point Eurylochus says something to the effect of "I admire him greatly. I can hardly think of another leader who can so easily slaughter a group of enemy soldiers with only his hands."

And they get real quiet after that.

(Side note, it's 100% canon to this AU that in instances where Eurylochus couldn't reach Odysseus, the kings all sent Achilles in to manhandle Ody and drag him back into the Greek camp bc he's the only one safe from getting his jugular ripped out. It turns out that even when he's lost in his heat, Odysseus is still clever enough to remember how to undo armor straps/find the chinks in one's armor.)

((Also, Eury respects Odysseus a lot more for his mind and whatnot. It's just that, alpha to alpha, he knows the only thing that the Greek kings respect is power.))

In terms of the events of the Odyssey/Epic, I think their dynamic is largely unchanged. Eurylochus doesn't view his brother as "an omega that happens to be my captain/king" but more so as "my captain/king who happens to be an omega".

I do imagine that during the mutiny tho... their fight still happens, and it's the first time Eurylochus has had to really resist his instincts, especially when it comes to Odysseus. His instincts as an alpha tell him it's wrong to be attacking an omega, his brother. But at the same time, he knows how capable Odysseus is and that he cannot hold back.

And then Odysseus gets stabbed. I imagine instead of a pained gasp, he lets out a sharp cry that only an omega in pain can make. Eurylochus is familiar with the sound from how often Odysseus has cried out in emotional pain when locked aboard the ship while in heat.

And Eurylochus will have many, many mixed emotions about seeing Odysseus get injured. He's conflicted and upset because yeah, maybe Odysseus would've killed him for standing in his way...

But he was only attempting to disarm Odysseus so he could take over the ship as the new captain. To see Odysseus nearly bleed to death, it's wrong. It was never meant to be taken this far.

The men want to throw Odysseus' body overboard to get rid of their bad omen, their omega. Eurylochus won't let them. He bandages his brother up the best he can, despite knowing full well that Odysseus had tried to kill him minutes ago, and sets a new course for them.

And in his final moments before Zeus' lightning strikes him dead, Eurylochus oddly feels at peace. He was the one who opened the wind bag, he started the mutiny, he killed the sacred cattle.

Perhaps an alpha cannot know loyalty as an omega knows it, and that is why Odysseus is so dead set on going home.

Or perhaps it's just him.

[yappathon]

In defence of Eurylochus-

I've seen many people analysing him in detail and I just wanted to add my two cents to the discussion by giving my interpretation of the four moments for which the fandom dislikes him the most:

Reason 1: He opened the windbag !

Context: Eurylochus is Odysseus's close friend, second in command and brother in law, which means he knows Odysseus in a personal level and therefore knows that Odysseus is a fucking liar. Odysseus lies and cheats and talks his way out of things, he is crafty, he is clever and he is cunning; core Odysseus triats.

So imagine you're Eurylochus and Odysseus just came back with the wind bag. He says it has the Storm and the Winions (agents of Wind God) say it's a treasure. Who do you believe the liar or the god?

Additionally Jorge was pretty clear Eurylochus represents the crew always in Epic the Musical, so the wind bag opening is not necessarily his idea particularly, any of the crew did it but their face/brand is Eurylochus.

I think in this scenario it's a mix case of Odysseus 'The Boy who cried Wolf' and Eurylochus 'Curiosity killed the Cat'

Reason 2: He tried to abandon his men to Circe

Context: Just the day they lost 557 men to a God (!) due to a mistake Eurylochus made, so his survivor's guilt is fully active and his mental state is not it.

Now after that happened, he took a team to scope the island and saw them turn into pigs by a Goddess (!).

He learned the hard way the same day that Gods are very dangerous and had the fear of God instilled in him, literally.

So logically speaking he was right in that they couldn't defeat Circe. The only reason Odysseus was successful was because of Hermes's help which was an option Eurylochus did not even know existed when he suggested abandoning the pigs-men to Circe.

I understand that this point is less about him wanting to abandon pig-men and more about the perceived hypocrisy in Mutiny, so next let's see;

Reason 3: The Mutiny

Context: The lair of Scylla. Odysseus definitely knew what was going to happen there, but he did not warn the crew, he did not prepare the crew. Instead he used them as canon fodder which like you can argue that it was the only way to get home but Odysseus consciously lied to his crew and sacrificed them.

I wanted to talk about perceived hypocrisy that some people think Eurylochus's actions in being mad at Odysseus since he was ready to abandon his men with Circe. But the difference matters guys, Eurylochus 'abandons', Odysseus 'sacrifices'. The only equivalent to the situation is that if Eurylochus purposefully led his group to Circe's Palace knowing she would turn them into pigs. Eurylochus tries to make a hard decision to save whatever's left, that does not make him a hypocrite or uncaring and it does not negate his right to be mad/sad during Scylla/Mutiny.

He did not mutiny because he wanted power, he did it because he and the crew could no longer trust Odysseus to have their best interest in mind and in a sad kind of way, they are not wrong. Odysseus's number #1 priority is him making it home and the crew is #2.

Different Beast: "Sirens know every route in horizon, now I know how to get back to my island"

Mutiny: "Please don't do this? I need to get home"

and then we all know how Thunder Bringer goes.

Reason 4: The Cow thing

He was hungry, starving and has zero hope he'll make it home. I'm sorry, you cannot be mad at him for this; this is the saddest thing I've ever seen.

But I'll go to the "Captain" he says after killing the cows.

"If you want all the power you must carry all the blame" Eurylochus is not calling Odysseus as Captain because he's trying to shift the blame imo. It's a reflex response, he hears the panic in Odysseus's voice and like he has done all his life (close friend and brother in law hello?), he looks for Odysseus for guidance. Eurylochus and all the crew immediately follow Odysseus's instructions afterwards proving that Mutiny was never about power and they still think Odysseus is the smartest man in Greece.

I also wanted to touch on the grief aspect of Odysseus and Eurylochus's relationship

In the Epic-verse; Odysseus, Eurylochus and Polites are childhood friends. After Polites's death Odysseus copes by trying to honor Polites's motto still 'Open Arms' and Eurylochus copes by being extra vigilant and cautious (Luck Runs Out).

Their ideology and way of coping with grief clashes with the others directly and that is the real tragedy of their relationship. These two men love each other very much, even after all that happens there is not a doubt that things fell about because they stopped loving each other. It's because both of them are heavily traumatized characters and they cope differently and in a way that opposes the others.

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

"You should be resting, not fighting," said Nalani gently.

Frankie hurriedly wiped the tears from her face.

"A fact I am sure Zale will recognise when he has calmed down."

"I don't know what his bloody problem is," grumbled Frankie.

Nalani tilted her head sympathetically, "I consider us old friends, Frankie. So, shall we dispense with lies and masks? They will be tiring for you to maintain, and tiresome for me to ignore."

Frankie dropped down on the sand, "he doesn't get it. My family... we're complicated... but, when it really matters, we're there for each other. To this day, whenever I've been struggling, I imagine Peggy and Maggie and my mama by my side and they help me figure out what to do... ok... maybe not my mama, she usually just yells at me, but still... even that is useful sometimes."

"How intriguing," replied Nalani. "Though, of course, you know that they are not there, don't you? The words they speak - whether guiding or condemning - come only from you."

"I know," Frankie begrudgingly agreed, "but... I wish they were here. I've lost my mama and Peggy and probably Maggie... I can't lose Morgan too. In her own way, she protects me... I'd just go from fuck up to fuck up without them."

Nalani sighed, "I had a similar feeling aboard your ship, shortly after Lesley's murder. I had begged my parents to let me leave Sulani and, when they refused, I ran away. To therefore find myself trapped in a human mutiny... well, you can imagine how naïve and foolish I felt. At the time, I believed I made a monumental mistake that evidenced my unworthiness to one day lead my people."

"But you don't now?" asked Frankie curiously.

"No, I do not. I am much kinder to my younger self. I did not like being born a princess - the sense of my life being pre-destined felt too constraining. My parents allowed me to run the stall in Sulani, in the hopes it might give me a sense of freedom and independence; it only worsened my feelings. Day after day in that market I was surrounded by humans with the free will to come and go from Sulani as they pleased, while I was tied to the islands forever more."

"When I discovered your plans to leave Sulani, it makes complete sense that I would try to join you and seek the sense of freedom that I so craved. The trouble was that I misunderstood the concept of 'freedom' in much the same way that you have."

"How's that?"

"I believed freedom to be something external - something 'out there' that I needed to seek and find. I thought I had to leave everything behind to be free. But I was wrong. I didn’t realise freedom could come from accepting the parts of myself I was running from. The journey to me reaching such a realisation began the day I boarded your ship."

"Nosce te ipsum," muttered Frankie.

"I am afraid you shall have to translate," said Nalani, "I am not as multilingual as you and Zale."

"Know thyself," repeated Frankie. "It's a Latin proverb that Peggy taught me once. I remember thinking it was so stupid - how could someone not know themselves? It's not like you could ever be a stranger to your mind."

Nalani chuckled, "I would go so far as to call it one of the easiest and most common things in the world - we are all capable of lying to ourselves and others with such success that we can formulate entirely new persons who have no connection to the truths in our heart."

Frankie exhaled heavily as she mulled over Nalani's words. Nalani surveyed Frankie's face and then said,

"The day you allowed me to empathise with you, you let me see far deeper into your soul than you intended. I learned a great deal about the truths in your heart. May I share some of what I felt? It may help."

Frankie bit her lip and nodded.

"For most of your life, the love you have experienced has come with conditions. With your mama, it was religious belief. With Maggie, societal expectations. With Morgan, blind loyalty. You have felt obliged to twist yourself into shapes that never quite fit in order to please them. You would complain about it, certainly, but still you did it. There is one exception to this: Peggy. She saw who you were and loved you unconditionally. You thrived under her care as you were free to be yourself."

Frankie bit her lip harder to try and quell the tears that were building in her eyes and said quietly, "Bloody hell. How do you do that?"

There was a sparkle to her eyes as she answered, "I did not do anything. You are the one who told me everything; I have simply put it into words."

"Simply," Frankie repeated with a small scoff.

"It becomes easier with practice," said Nalani.

"For a mermaid, maybe," grumbled Frankie. "You know - if the mermaids started charging people to share their souls with you so you could then help them understand their feelings, you could make an absolute fortune. You could call it... therapia... after the Latin for 'healing'."

Nalani smiled knowingly, "you are always thinking of how you can help others, aren't you?"

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[dykedvonte]

what’s your opinion on how the story of mouth washing would change if Jimmy was captain instead of Curly? Like, if Curly was co captain instead of jimmy, maybe out of pure luck on jimmys part or jimmy had sweetend up to the higher ups in pony express? Sorry if someone’s asked this before, but I think it could be pretty interesting

I think it would be more interesting because I feel like Jimmy would be a different Captain than Curly was through being the perfect worker.

Like I assume he climbed the ranks similarly but the reason he's a bit untouchable is either through black mail or turning a blind eye in a way the company likes. Perhaps he was needed to testify for a case against them and he offered to make them look better. Maybe he'd be loose on procedures that help them cut cost and keep morale up in the worst way. As long as he can do what he wants with that sort of power attached he's their perfect little black sheep.

He'd still crash the ship though, them going bankrupt, likely all the wrongdoings he's committed outside of yknow, assaulting Anya, no longer being covered up and hushed. They can't help him and the story of a Captain that abused his powers for years finally coming to light, headed by the rape of a subordinate. I think the biggest difference is he's genuinely trying to die this time, like I think his ego would be way bigger because his wants were slightly actualized. I think he's reserved in canon because he's still just a nobody with nothing to really control, but here? There's no one above him on this ship and in his mind at all, no Pony Express anymore, he's basically a god.

I feel like as for the others its a but interesting. I honestly think Curly would be a lot happier with the lack of responsibility but just as concerned and possibly more scared of Jimmy. He has to do even more placating because knowing Jimmy, he'd take his anger out on the rest of the crew just to make Curly feel worse about it, he's conditioned in a way where Jimmy makes all his mistakes as Captain feel like Curly's fault. I think Anya would still confide in him and due to this sort of "clarity" (not having the weight of everything on his shoulders) he's be more keen to listen and cover her. He's still not exactly confrontational with Jimmy, he's well aware what the Captain does have access to with the scanner... but maybe in that, when Anya hides the gun he lies for her and says he misplaced it while tidying up the cock-pit. Jimmy can see through his lies but is at least satisfied Curly won't directly call him out still. However, he loses it a bit more now knowing his best friend, the person he gave a nice cushy position to, isn't fully on his side.

I imagine Jimmy gets caught in the crash either because the door jams, sort of a ironic pin in the final statement of how drastically his luck turned or he underestimated the time he had to escape, representing his lack of understanding in true consequence. The message is slightly warped in that it's more about silent opposition as with an inherently bad leader, we'd have it framed as the crew being conflicted in what we would only assume is a botched but successful mutiny, only to see how bad Jimmy was. Going from the post-crash to show Jimmy as a worse and worse leader as it ultimately shows ways to help victims silently and that agency doesn't need to look like bravado. A flip on how every man was ultimaly a bystander in Anya's suffering. Still, it's mostly them covering or helping Anya do more for herself as it is just as, if not more dangerous for the men to create a dynamic that puts her directly into his ire/sights by being openly hostile. It's a good tactic to create outs for victims vs charging in when you know they will most likely be retaliated against directly.

Like her asking Swansea to keep the axe, Curly hiding the gun or Daisuke always trialing her so she's never alone.

I feel like the atmosphere of the game is totally different too. There's something somber in the pre-crash sequences obviously but you can tell everyone was relatively doing fine under Curly's leadership until Jimmy decied to be a homicidal rapist. With Jimmy it's inverted, like the respite after a storm. Anya is still pregnant unfortunately, but seeing as Jimmy is stuck in medical and can't do anything anymore, it's the first time she'd breathing. It's labored and not refreshing but it's easier than in canon, her relief makes it seem likes she happy, helping with the twist. Daisuke is a lot more aware, more shaken about things because he was more involved. He's thinking more about his idea's of keeping things kosher and letting the smile fade, makes him seems a bit more dreary that helps with the twist, as if he's guilty.

I think Swansea is relatively the same, though he's a lot more open of his condemnation of Jimmy, saying he was awful and being a bit to mean that makes it seem like it's too intentional and Jimmy couldn't have been that bad. Curly is most interesting because he's still just a little torn up about it. I don't think he'd take the title as Captain, more so just do things that fit the role as a distraction. His best friend turned out to be this horrible monster. Maybe he was always this monster and he just never got to see. Maybe he saw and was to scared that he'd be a monster to him... more of one at least. He feels an immense guilt that makes it hard for him to have a total disdain for Jimmy and he hates it.

There's a lot I could say on this but I'll probably make an even longer, what if post ladder when I've had time to stew on it.

[cosmicourple]

Ok but Odysseus as the god of Puppeteering & Mind of Shadows would completely flip the story on its head. I imagine that in order to topple the gods, he’d want to do it without arousing suspicion because what kind of puppeteer would he be if he was discovered right away? So he played it sneakily. When he catches Athena’s connection, he already has her snared in his trap, a connection made that he can pull back on when the time is right. I’m not sure if he’ll still be connected to Hermes or the lost deity’s powers had overwhelm and erased it but he and Hermes will eventually meet. He does love Penelope and hates how he can’t tell her who he really is otherwise someone might catch him and ruin everything but he does put protective blessings on her and his son who might have inherited his powers, he’s gonna seal that up real quick until the time is right.

As the Trojan war comes, Odysseus played it cool but secretly made connections to the gods that appear whenever they made themselves known like Ares, Aphrodite, Apollo and Artemis. The only exception was Zeus due to him being more powerful than the rest and while he did have to drop the baby, he did save him and leave him to his minions who I imagine are puppets he made. Every death during the odyssey, Odysseus secretly saves them and puts them in his pocket dimension because of his attachment to them. When Athena leaves, he’s saddened but disappointed; I feel like a part of him wanted to give the gods a chance but after Athena left, he no longer saw any good in them and what’s going to be a divine invasion would be considered justified. He thought Athena could change, but he supposed that he was wrong…

From there, it becomes much more easier to manipulate now that Athena isn’t watching him. He knew that by revealing his name, he’ll draw Poseidon’s attention where he can make a connection using their hatred towards each other as the basis so that it can click. He’s not someone who can see prophecies like Apollo, rather he knows what to do to make things play out how he wants. He does want to go home, but the deities were getting impatient so off to Scylla he goes where he lets her eat sirens instead. Mutiny happened and while it did hurt, he never blamed his crew because he understood them and finally… He encountered Zeus. Helios was actually his target but he’ll take the top god and other ways of persuasion him to form a connection using lust. He even learns some unexpected things from the king of gods which he files away for another time due to how they made his chest feel weird.

And with that, everything is in place and soon, he’ll no longer be Odysseus. It’s like the song ‘The main character’ but in a more tragic light; as much as Odysseus loved living as a mortal, he can’t be seen as human. He’s the vessel of the forgotten deities’ anger and it’s either he fails, gets taken/hurt by the Olympian gods never to see his family again, or finally put his plan into action. He thinks himself as a puppet ironically, after all he was created to bring ruin to the gods, much like how Pandora was made to give a punishing gift to humanity.

So, he pulls the strings, ignoring the squeeze in his heart as he turns away from Zeus and wonders if Penelope could forgive him for what he’s doing.

*snorts this world building like dwugs :3*

On a less weird note: NHHDWGYHHHFHHGGFFF— YAS!1!!!1!! OMG ODYSSEUS W/ ALL HIS BEHIND THE SCENES GLORY AHFDDEWWSSSS EEEEEEEE THIS LOOKS SO FUN‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

If I’m gonna dissect some things,,,, :

#1: auhhhh u put the Last Minute Titles I made 4 Ody’ to good use 🤩🙏 him analysing his situation so to not cause suspicion is very him, AWBGAS him establishing ‘connections’ to The Gods, probably to manipulate them by info access but also maybe these Connections r like invisible Magic Strings that Odysseus can use to weaken them when, as u put it, the time is right AKA Dimension Invasion Time omg ouggggg— either way, very kool <33.

I still think he’d have some DNA-related connections to Hermes, it mostly being there too give him a base 4 when he accesses his Godly Form :) (in my mind, Ody’ was sent into This World as a Little Shadow Blob, the first form he took was when he incarnated as Ithaca’s Newborn Prince :33)

Cries, he loves his wife & son no matter what, makes it even more of a shame about wha he’s suppose to do hehe hmmm *pockets Telemachus w/ Otherworldly Deity Genes 4 later*…

#2: ohohoho— The Trojan War spat got no idea who it’s actually helped :),,,

Awwwgffdddfes— Ody’ saving lil’ Astyanax n spiriting him away 😭😭😭 (along w/ everyone he’s attached to :() oh how he couldn’t resist to raise that kid :’) + omg mindless puppet looking shadows as Ody’s’ minions / ‘Eikon’ (I think that’s how u use the word when referring to a false being created by a God??? Idk??-) is *chefs kiss* those sound like such badass things to wield ngl-

*wince* ouwwwww, My Goodbye sounds so awkward but also funny in a kinda sick way in this scenario bc- Athena is arrogantly yelling at Ody’ to do some shit & then there’s Odysseus of Ithaca over here existing as The Nuclear Weapon Mastermind of some spiteful dying Universe LMAO—- 😭

Ouch, Ody’ wanting to be at least somewhat fair, give The Gods a chance thru observation but then Athena lets her pride get in the way & now their fate of getting fucked over is permanently sealed ooooooo— just one less argument Athena, just one less argument is probably all it coulda’ taken 😙,,,

#3: everything falling into place as the story goes on, The Gods none the wiser to what is on the horizon…

Lmao, Odysseus wanting to go after Helios makes me think of that meme where it’s a guy pointing a shotgun at the sun GTHHAAGL😭😭😭

Ohohohohook— there we go >:]]] glad 2 see that the Manwhore thoughts r sprinkled into every one of my A.U’s :3

But now, along w/ the Blender Timeloop A.U, with angst!1!!!1!11

Idk if I’m reading dis wrong, but those ‘unexpected things’ from Zeus sound like The Godking catchin’ feeeeelss~~ hehe oh the dramaest drama *rubs hand together evilly*

Also yep- Odysseus already got a lot on his plate, so that is def something he’s want to deal with,,,,later.

#4: ah Character Feeling Way 2 Attached To Their False Identity But Very Much Needing 2 Let It Go, one of my fav tropes 😏

Speaking of character tropes: THE MAIN CHARACTER BY WILL WOOD LET’S GOOOO— ouuuuu- yes, that’s such a good song 4 Ody’ here <D✨ (mostly bc I just luv the song) & OUUUUUHHHHH—- in general, the pain of having to fulfil his purpose as a infiltrator / virus- 🥲🥲🥲 love that angst 😋.

Yeah,,,, The Lore I’ve made in my mind paints Odysseus’s whole- thing, existence very tragic, but that’s what The Greeks were all about so, still fits nicely w/ the usual cruelty in their stories !!

Bringing up The Other Deities as I’ll now call them, while their objective of reviving their Universe thru the equivalent of sneeking a rat into a land owners papers is gonna be very, very disruptive to Greece’s current economy, I never rlly thought of them as. Bad. Morally grey, absolutely if not as well a bit sympathetic, but never rlly. Bad. A few of them even learn to care 4 Ody’ as they observe him growing up <), still pushing their goal onto him n guiding him to fulfil his purpose, but they also make sure to treat him as a person. A young person that needs to be nurtured. (mostly 4 the plan to work out smoothly but there’s some care 4 their infiltrators wellbeing,,,)

Despite all of this, Ody’ is still not having a great time dealing w/ everything,,,, obviously. It’s a pretty morbid way to live.

#5: plan getting set into motion ohohohehe- here comes The Drama + unnecessary All Powerful Odysseus lmao :’)

Haha I will never let this man be happy with his family :))))).

[homestuckreplay]

See No Anvil, Hear No Anvil, Speak No Anvil

(page 1737-1754)

In summary: Rose and John almost meet in person (again), fail to actually meet, and exchange animal companions. I have always loved seeing Vodka Mutini In Places and hunting him down in a lot of the Rose panels (sometimes he is there and SO small) and now I get to do that with John’s. The real goal of Sburb is to pass this adorable kitten between all four kids so he can go on adventures. Look, they are both having so much fun up there ^

Less importantly, Dave has added all the upgrades to Rose’s alchemiter, which was cool of him, and allows John to make FEAR NO ANVIL, a weapon Davesprite gave him the code for. John is the hammerkind guy, but with its red/orange color scheme and ticking clock hands, this is clearly a Dave-coded hammer. Dave and John have matching suits, matching internet glasses, and already exchanged matching movie prop gifts, so my guess is that John will one day find a blue wind-based sword (half-sword?) that he can give to Dave. Anyway, I love cogs and gears, and one time I saw one of those videos where they open up a watch and clean all the tiny parts inside of it which was immensely satisfying, so I like this weapon design a lot.

Davesprite continues to be evasive and not give straight answers, despite his promise to Dave (p.1658). He doesn’t give much information about the hammer’s abilities, Hephaestus, or how he actually got the weapon. Hephaestus of course is Dave’s web browser, seen way back on page 323 – a jet black, vaguely humanoid shape surrounded by flames – and we see his desktop again literally one page after Davesprite mentions the name. I think this is unnecessary for a lot of readers, as fans are regularly hunting through the archives and would have made this connection pretty quickly, but maybe this along with the recap is an attempt at making Homestuck easier for casual readers to follow. This also isn’t the first we’ve seen of web browsers made physical; Grandpa Harley has John’s browser Typheus (p.24) blocking the transportalizer in his house, much to Jade’s annoyance (p.857). So, I imagine at some point we’ll hear from Rose’s browser Cetus (p.239) and Jade’s browser Echidna (p.825). Though if one of them is based on Internet Explorer, maybe they’ll be super slow and easy to kill.

In case I haven’t said it before: the Firefox is my best friend, and I would never fight them. I would thank them for their service and give them berries and rats to eat.

Just like dream Jade, dream Dave’s computer corresponds with his waking one. But without a dreambot, he’s unable to affect the waking world – so can’t message John and tell him to wait – he can only watch. Rose is immediately like ‘goodbye, I’m going to hang out with my other friend’ and ends the sleepover early, and is impressively unsurprised by the appearance of a salamander in her bedroom. I guess this renaming/re-gendering of Viceroy Bubbles von Salamancer is the payoff for John wondering about salamander gender earlier, and hey, I could argue this is the first canonically trans character in Homestuck. John and Rose are both excellent at silly pet names, and when they’re older their job should be naming all the pets on Petfinder.

I am so glad John did a prank here. He’s always talking about how much he loves pranks, but hardly ever attempts them. I guess he doesn’t have many people who he can prank in person, and probably lost a lot of prank confidence trying to go up against his dad: ‘Looks like DAD will enjoy the prankster's gambit on that exchange, as is usually the case’ (p.92). Here, John is both successful in pranking Rose, and his prank is very kind. A meaner prank would have been to unwrap all the Gushers so that Rose had hundreds of tiny, sticky candies in her room that would burst under her feet and be basically inedible. Here they’re still in their packets, plus they’re a healing item in Sburb, so John is giving Rose a present in prank gift wrap. ‘thoughtful but mischievous’ (p.1749) is exactly correct.

It is unsurprising I guess that John and Rose miss each other, as I don’t think this would be the most impactful moment for them to meet. I am calling it now that we’re gonna get meetings between all of the guardians before we get them between any of the (waking) kids, and that the kids won’t meet in person until they reach Skaia.

Finally, we get a glimpse of the trolls’ transtemporal chat client, Trollian. It’s fairly simple, with a timeline and direction for each of the four kids. Presumably, the gray bar turns to black when the corresponding kid enters the Medium, as GA is messaging Rose right after Dave’s entry. According to this, the gap between John and Rose’s entry was smallest, the gap between Rose and Dave’s entry is a little longer (we know this was four and a half to five hours), and the gap between Dave and Jade is longer still. Though this means very little in a story that jumps around in time so much.

The trolls can also scroll backwards, presumably to when the kids first installed Pesterchum, or forwards into the future. From the position of the scrollbar, there’s more time forwards than backwards, indicating a long future for the kids even after their accelerated Sburb session. It’s understandable that the trolls focus on this period of time because it’s the one that impacts them, but surely one of them is a little curious about the kids’ far future? Where do they end up after all of this? I’ve never wished a page was interactive more than this one.

Finally, there’s a ChumpRoll, listing the kids’ usernames (including both of John’s), and a viewport, through which the trolls can see the kid (or perhaps their computer). Every time I think ‘surely these kids are being surveilled enough?’ the story adds another layer of surveillance – the reader, Sburb server players, exiles, Jack Noir, AH, dream server players, and now trolls – putting them in an absolute nightmare of being inescapably watched. On a totally unrelated note I was telling a friend of mine about Homestuck a while back, and three months later their social media still recommends them Homestuck content, even though it’s something they’ve never explored outside of our conversations. So yeah, I think this theme is an incredibly accurate commentary about the internet.

Overall, these pages were definitely a simpler update, with no long Pesterlogs or major plot development, but they can’t all be life changing. It is still wonderful to get a few pages every day, and I’m certain something exciting will happen soon – I have my fingers crossed for the next in Rose and GA’s sequence of conversations.

[s0lar5ystems]

Imagine how Perimedes was feeling in Mutiny.

He's just lost 6 of his friends, people he's been with for years, after losing 557 other men, and his best friend.

As Eurylochus challenges Odysseus, all he can do is watch. That is the man whose choices killed most of Ithaca's men. Elpenor is dead because of him.

He sees that Eurylochus may win, but he can't be happy about it. He's lost too much for a change in leadership to repair.

He watches as Odysseus pushes him to the ground, sword pointed at Eurylochus's heart. And he has to do something.

He feels the pommel of his sword in his palm and he does what he has to.

To save his ship.

To save Eurylochus.

To honour Elpenor.

He thrusts his sword forward, stabbing Odysseus through the chest.

"My brothers, why?"

As Odysseus speaks, he realises what he's done. He stumbles back, dropping his sword. But after looks of pride and concern from his comrades, he tells Odysseus exactly what he thinks.

Odysseus is shocked. Not shocked because he didn't expect to be turned on, but more because he didn't expect Perimedes to be the one to take a stand.

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, thinking of every face, every soul that had been lost. They were all trapped on the wrong side of the Styx, unable to cross because Odysseus decided they couldn't wait to send them off properly. Elpenor was trapped.

He hadn't even noticed when Elpenor disappeared. Perimedes noticed as they prepared to leave Circe's island and asked, begged, for just 15 minutes to find him and get him on the ship. Odysseus said no.

Elpenor who, when he was taken by the lotus, asked Odysseus to leave him, as he looked happy for the first time in months.

Elpenor, who humoured him when he sang about his ambitions and his hopes for his life.

Elpenor, who caught him when he fell and was always there to make sure he was ok.

Elpenor, who helped him through the worst time of his life.

Perimedes doesn't even give the unconscious Odysseus a second glance as they sail to the nearest island.

And when Eurylochus carried him ashore and carefully patched up the wounds they both caused, Perimedes refusesd to go near him, instead leading a scout group to make sure they were alone on the island.

When Odysseus screamed for them to leave the island as quickly as they could, he listened. Not because of his respect for Odysseus, but because he didn't want to die on a desolate island surrounded by cows.

When Zeus appeared and threatened all of their lives or their captain's. He knew what he would choose, and tried to offer some of his comrades a final moment of comfort before they died.

And as he tumbled into the sea, he smiled.

Because he could see Elpenor, and every man who died.

If they were to sit on the shore of the Styx for an eternity, might as well do it with good company.

[goldninja91]

The Fate of Antinous

TW; Gore and allusions to SA

OK, so recently I've seen the final stream of Epic: The Ithaca Saga and absolutely loved it. The stories of Odysseus, Telemachus, and Penelope were all handled wonderfully and the songs were bangers, every single one. And the finale definitely ensured that my eyes weren't dry.

Just to be perfectly clear right now: I think that the Ithaca Saga is perfectly fine as it is. It's absolutely phenomenal, and Jorge's musical prowess is on full display here.

That said... I do think there's one thing that would have made the story a little better, at least for me personally. I'm kind of ashamed to say it, but I'm... somewhat disappointed with how quickly Antinous is dealt with. Don't get me wrong, I know that it's 100% in character for Odysseus to shoot him dead on the spot with the vile things he was saying, and it was utterly hilarious to see it happen, but I feel like his presence overall could have been just a little longer, and all the better for it.

Firstly, in the Wisdom Saga Antinous is built up as the pseudo-leader of the suitors, being their main voice and the one who takes Telemachus's challenge. He seems to speak for all of them, similar to how Eurylochus was the voice of the crew.

This role is reinforced in "Hold Them Down" with Antinous leading their rejection of the challenge and their own 'mutiny' of sorts. I mean, just look at this guy. He's plotting anarchy and he's having fun.

And especially near the end when describing what they plan to do with Penelope... I mean look at this guy, he is tweaking out

I mean, all the pieces were in place to have this guy be the leading antagonistic force throughout the saga, and it a way he kind of is. Still, I personally would have liked to see his character get just a sliver more in the spotlight.

Fortunately though, there's already a spot that fits him perfectly and doesn't affect the storytelling integrity of the saga at all. In fact, I think it only strengthens it!

So picture this with me, if you will. "Hold Them Down" proceeds as normal, even ending with Antinous getting shot with an arrow. However, instead of getting shot in the neck like the original he's instead hit in the shoulder or side, something that will shut him up long enough for Odysseus to begin his own boss music. While Odysseus makes his threats... no, promises to the suitors, Antinous scampers away like a coward for the time being.

Later on when the weapons are discovered, Antinous can slide perfectly into the role of Melanthius. They both have beef with Telemachus and threaten to break his bones, and both are leading a large group of suitors to generally make life worse for everyone.

When their efforts are threatened by Telemachus, it's a personal encounter for Antinous. He's already beaten this kid down once, and clearly his 'lesson' didn't stick. So perhaps it's time to reiterate his point. And this would be personal for Telemachus too, since he's going up against the main guy he's been beefing with. But it would also strengthen what makes Telemachus unique in this situation, as he'd be offering mercy to the man who had threatened to break all his bones and violate his own mother.

Of course, Antinous rejects this offer and orders the other men to attack Telemachus, not fighting himself as he still has an arrow wound to deal with.

Now, just imagine the collective dread of the fandom if it was Antinous holding Telemachus and threatening to break his hands (which is an odd recurring thing with Antinous, him wanting to break people's bones) in this image instead of Melanthius, whom we unfortunately know nothing about.

And imagine how satisfying it would have been when Odysseus finally finished the job...

Because as it turns out, Odysseus didn't kill Antinous on purpose, just to make an example out of him. He recognized him as their leader, and decided it would strike more fear into the rest of the suitors if he made it clear that absolutely no one and nowhere was safe in that castle.

I mean, just look at the dramatic shot composition, the lighting, everything. This scene is begging to have this be the death of a named character, a character familiar to us, for whom we've long been waiting to see perish in a rightfully gruesome manner...

Of course, I realize that I don't know the greater context of the Odyssey, so I don't know if this is now things went in the book. But here in Epic, I feel that this would have made for a slightly more streamlined storytelling experience.

Plus, these are just my thoughts. I'll reiterate again, I am perfectly fine with how Antinous is handled in the actual song. It's honestly hilarious to see him instantly get killed off while trying to rally the other suitors. I just think that this would have been a perfect payoff to all the setup around this particular villain. But what do y'all think?