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i’m way too fucking aromantic to be writing a romance. what am i doing

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Chapter 5 of Stuck With You, my Odyseidon fic

Fic Masterlist here || read on AO3 here

Featuring Odysseus just having a really bad day stuck on this island

Odysseus woke with a start, jolting upright. Screams still echoed in his ears for a minute afterwards, remnants of his nightmare lingering.

During his first week or two on the island Odysseus would often wake in a panic, confused about not being on his ship. That no longer happened, but it still took him a few seconds to orient himself upon waking.

From the level of light in the room, he guessed it was early morning, a little before the sun rose. The bed next to him was empty, but still looked as if Poseidon had slept there. Odysseus wondered, briefly, where the god was at this hour, but figured it wasn’t worth bothering with. He was too tired to deal with the god’s bullshit this early.

He laid back down, trying to get comfortable with his small pile of bedding. He hoped he could get a couple more hours of sleep, but it didn’t seem likely, not when he could still remember the sound of those screams so clearly.

Odysseus didn’t know how much later it was when he sat up, feeling like shit. He wasn’t sure whether he’d managed to sleep any more, or for how long, but the sun had been up for a little while now. He at least hadn’t had any more nightmares, but that just made it harder to tell whether he’d slept or not.

His eyes were heavy, and his head felt like what he could only describe as blurry. Still, Odysseus couldn’t just stay in the bedroom all day — he needed to at least eat breakfast.

He stood and dressed, intending on heading to the kitchen. A short attempt at walking soon made it clear that he wasn’t in any fit state to prepare food, so Odysseus rerouted to the bath. He hoped the water might help clear his head.

Thankfully, it did. For the most part at least. There were a couple times Odysseus thought the warm water would have him drifting back to sleep, but he left the bath feeling a lot better. He was still tired, but it was rare now that Odysseus didn’t feel at least a little tired.

Confident that he could function enough in a kitchen, Odysseus headed off to get some food. He entered the room, only to stop dead just inside the doorway.

Poseidon.

He was sitting at the table holding a cup containing a faintly glowing liquid. Odysseus sighed, stepping over to where the food was stored and pulling some out to make his (late) breakfast.

Once he was done he sat at the table, a couple chairs down from Poseidon.

The god had yet to comment on his presence, which wasn’t entirely unusual, since he was never keen to talk to Odysseus. What was a bit odd was the quiet, sober look on his face. It was as if he hadn’t noticed Odysseus was there.

Poseidon only continued to look down at his cup with that same somber expression. It was starting to unnerve Odysseus.

He was used to the god’s tempers and storms, not this. Sure, Poseidon had never spoken much around Odysseus, but this was a different kind of quiet.

“Are you okay?” Odysseus asked, not so much out of concern as to simply break the silence.

Poseidon’s eyes shot up towards him. The somber look quickly changed to one of anger.

“I do not need your pity. And what exactly do you think is so wrong anyway?”

It was always like this. Odysseus was sick of it.

“Well considering you hadn’t snapped at me just for existing within the same room as you yet, I thought something must have been!”

Poseidon’s hand clenched around the stem of his cup briefly before he let go, standing.

“After everything, you expect me to tolerate your presence?” he sneered.

“My presence?! After you drowned my men — hundreds of my men — how am I supposed to live with yours?!”

“Of course, you’re so much better,” Poseidon said, drawing out the ‘o’ sound a little. “The righteous Odysseus, so good, so merciful.”

“I get it, alright?! Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves, I know.”

“Good,” Poseidon said, walking past Odysseus to exit the room. His pace was measured, but still betrayed his lingering anger.

Fine. At least Odysseus could eat in peace. The argument had soured what little positive mood he had, and he was back to being tired.

With any luck, he wouldn’t run into Poseidon again that day, because there was no way Odysseus had the energy to deal with him again. And after that morning, it didn’t seem likely Poseidon would be in any sort of mood to tolerate him.

Odysseus didn’t even have the energy for playing the lyre, as easy as it was. He didn’t really have the energy for much of anything.

Assuming Poseidon would be where he usually was during the day, Odysseus went back to the bedroom. The room was empty, so he could probably get away with resting on the bed. Worst case scenario, he slept until night fell and Poseidon pushed him off the bed again. But getting that much sleep would be well worth it — not that it was a likely scenario anyway.

Odysseus just didn’t want to deal with his situation right now, didn’t want to think about it.

He lay on the bed for a while — a few hours if he had to guess — before eventually dragging himself out of the room. If he had slept, he hadn’t noticed, still as drained as before. But laying on the bed with only his own thoughts to occupy him wasn’t going to do Odysseus any good, so he decided to walk along the beach.

He got a short distance along the shore before stopping.

Apparently he couldn’t go anywhere that day without running into Poseidon.

The god was still a fair distance away, sitting on the sand. He was at the farthest point they could reach down the shore — far enough that the waves from the afternoon’s high tide were just barely washing against him.

Odysseus had no idea why, especially since Poseidon’s himation would be getting wet, but he figured the god of the ocean might not care about that. And he didn’t care to ask what Poseidon was doing, not after their argument that morning.

The idea of a walk down the beach was spoiled by the god’s presence, so Odysseus went back inside, settling in the lounge area until night fell.

He was losing hope that things might get better. That he might get home.

That he might see his wife and son again.

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Writers, here’s your reminder that you should be doing warm-ups!

Athletes need to warm up. Musicians need to warm up. Artists need to warm up. Heck, I even have to play a few matches in video games before I get into a groove every day.

Warm-ups help you get into the right headspace, give you more control of your actions and word choice, get you comfortable in your physical setting (eg: with your keyboard, notebook, tablet, or whatever you're writing with), and spark creativity.

Even if you don’t think you have spoons to write, sit down and do a couple warm-ups. If you still don’t want to, that’s alright. But. I think you’ll be surprised how often they help break that ice.

5-15 minutes is all you need. I personally set a timer for ten minutes each time and do not stop writing until the time is up. Your warm-up can be anything at all so long as it gets you writing and starts nudging those creative juices.

Here's some common warm-ups:

Journaling. Just jot down some notes about your day. Feel free to really lean into something that you noticed. We're going for description and details -- try to avoid settling into a spiral or focusing on something negative that will upset your creativity.

Short story prompts. Type that into Pinterest and pick the most ridiculous, cliche thing you can. Write a little scene, story summary, or even a rant about why you do or don't like the prompt. Just write.

Vocab challenge. If you like a bit more critical thinking to get you in the zone, have a random vocabulary word generator spit out five or so words. Check their meanings and jot down a little story or thought that includes all five. You get more familiar with beautiful and descriptive language, and it gives you a much narrowed prompt (which is lovely if you're like me and suffer each time there's an open-ended task assigned).

Character moments. Try putting your character into a generic setting and write down almost meticulously what their thought process would be. Follow them realizing they've just stepped in mud or dreading the start of the day. Pick a mundane thing and describe them working through it. This will not only get your writing going, but it will wake up the character's voice in your head.

Ongoing storytelling. Did you know that Whinnie the Poo was A.A. Milne's warm up story? He would jot down a quick little story with those very basic characters and did so every day. Whatever came to mind. He kept writing little tidbits on the same characters and eventually it turned into a series. Having that ongoing plot with isolated scenes and simple characters can help you feel more motivated to sit down and write.

Get-to-know-you-questions. Google a list of basic first-date questions (there are a million out there) and answer one yourself. Go into specifics. Where do you most want to travel and why? Let yourself ramble until the question is fully answered.

Writer's block blues. This is a favorite of mine. If you're truly stuck, write about being stuck. Eg: 'I'm supposed to write for ten minutse, but that feels so stupid and impossible. No one is goign to read this anyway. I have no ideas and the page is so overwhelming when its blank. I used to be able to write on and on and nothing could stop me. it was like breathing. but now I have nothign and do nothing and I can't even do a stupid prompt-' Even the rambling and ranting got me writing. It made things easier. It made writing this post easier. Also -- notice the typos? Yeah, don't fix those. You're in writing mode, not editing mode when you're doing this. If you edit while you write, you're forcing yourself to stay in your executive and calculating headspace rather than falling fully into creativity and dream. Ignore the mistakes. That's for future you to handle.

I've officially rambled far too much, but I hope that helps even a little bit. Live well and write often, my friends. Best of luck to you <3

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there is nothing quite like being interrupted while absolutely immersed in whatever you're writing. i think this must be how fish feel when they're snatched out of the water by a bird of prey

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sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

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Psst. Writer. Write that idea down. Yeah, it’ll stay in your brain forever and all, but it won’t. Write it down.

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Romance is mysterious and important©

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A lot of people don't know that Robert Graves already wrote popular Greek myth perceptions before PJ - with some has everlasting damages for the worst.

the idea of a Triple Goddesses being universal in every myth? Nope, not a thing; he invented it.

Greece was originally matriarchal before it turned to patriarchy? He didn't invented it, but he popularized it (just look up his White Goddess thesis).

Medusa was actually a goddess and her being raped by Poseidon is a symbol of patriarchy? Also popularized it.

the gods attempt to overthrow Zeus, and Hera, Apollo, Poseidon were punished afterward? Well Graves mixed up a lot of confusing sources into one.

Hestia giving up her Olympian seat to Dionysus? He invented it.

Ares the jock to Hephaestus the nerd? He did that earlier.

Hestia the most kindest and peaceful goddess? He beat you all already.

Hera was forced to marry Zeus and hated the marriage?

Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades drawing lots on who get to rule which domain?

Amphitrite being a jealous wife like Hera?

His ideas baby.

And that's not even getting into the other whacky stuff he conjured up.

Edited: some corrections brought on by few people that the casting lots is founded in the Iliad and Apollodorus. I stand corrected!

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Here, have a really goofy black & white Poseidon sketch

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Do you think cobras know that they are the most fashionable snakes or are they cursed to live in ignorance of their devastatingly good style

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“But their only witnesses that night were the moon and stars glowing softly above them.”

Selene and Astraeus:

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so i know there’s jokes about ares fangirling or at least being really proud of ody after six hundred strike and odysseus

but aphrodite

i think she’d like odysseus for doing so much for love. like he fought a god just to get back to his family, and then 108 men — the passion, the love behind that, it’s what she stands for

and okay, yeah, there was a fair amount of hate behind it as well. but hate is not a direct opposite to love, really. and it’s definitely not opposite to passion

and then the way odysseus reunites with telemachus and penelope, you can tell how much he loves them, even if none of his previous actions had made it clear

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thinking about the inevitability of everything that happened between poseidon and odysseus, especially after ruthlessness

poseidon had to avenge his son, to his eyes this is something he had to do, and polyphemus requested it of him. he had to kill odysseus and his crew. but on top of that, he wanted to make this man, who had caused his son so much pain, who dared to think himself morally superior for not killing him, understand that he was wrong.

and yet in trying to teach him this lesson, he let him escape. imagine the hell he must have gone through thise ten years, knowing it was his fault odysseus got away. and he’s a god, as he said, he has a reputation to uphold, it’s no wonder all that festered into the hate he has in get in the water

but poseidon pushed odysseus to become a monster, pushed him to be ruthless. he HAD to be ruthless to get home. so after everything that happened, everything he had done to get home, what was he supposed to do when poseidon came after him again?

he was so close to home, and he’d already sacrificed so much, there was no way he could just give in to poseidon. and what was left then but forcing the god’s hand?

both had spent so long, 10 fucking years, with only one goal on their minds.

it was always going to end like that

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Chapter 4 of Stuck With You (Odyseidon)

Fic Masterlist here || read on AO3 here

This chapter is from Poseidon’s POV! (which will happen occasionally, just not as often as Ody’s POV)

Weeks Poseidon had spent on that island. Weeks spent trying to tolerate that mortal’s presence.

Odysseus at least seemed to have made the wise decision to avoid him, which did make things easier to handle. But the situation alone was unbearable. Humiliating, even.

Poseidon understood punishing the mortal, but why should he be punished as well? What right did Zeus have to punish a god as important as Poseidon in such a way, just for the crime of being frustrated? To leave him stranded, helpless and powerless, on an island, only a self-righteous mortal for company?

And then to demand he get along with that mortal!

How could he just put aside his anger, his vengeance, and forgive Odysseus? The man had blinded his son. Poseidon could not forgive him for that, he could not let him get away with it.

What kind of god would he be if he did? What kind of father would he be? How could Poseidon live with himself if he just let the man go? How would he be able to face his son after this, having let Odysseus go?

He couldn’t.

Either he put aside his vengeance, everything that had driven him these past few years, never able to face his son again; or he stayed on this island forever, his only company a mortal he despised.

Both were horrible options. He could betray his son and values, betray himself, or he could suffer for eternity, kept away from his home and everything that made him who he was. Would Zeus let him free if Odysseus died of mortal causes? He had already made it clear that Poseidon killing the man would have him stuck there forever.

It was driving him half insane, not being able to do anything. Only able to sit with his thoughts. Stuck on this island with nothing to do, no decent company.

Only Odysseus and occasionally Hermes, neither of which Poseidon wanted to spend any significant period of time around.

Oh, Hermes had been polite, certainly; that was a natural part of his job. But he had a reputation for loving mischief and gossip, and Poseidon was well aware that the situation he was stuck in was a perfect opportunity for both.

Not to mention that Hermes could be insufferable, constantly hiding trouble behind that polite facade. His words to Poseidon when he came to drop off supplies had been full of annoying comments.

But at least he only had to deal with Hermes every few weeks.

Poseidon was fine. He just had to wait this out. Zeus couldn’t keep him there forever, he had duties to attend to. It would be fine.

All Poseidon needed to do was avoid Odysseus until Zeus thought better of this whole idea. Just avoid the mortal so he didn’t end up directly going against the terms of his imprisonment.

“Hey.”

Poseidon tensed, turning to look at Odysseus standing in the doorway. Just as he’d been thinking about avoiding the mortal, he showed up. Were the Fates so against him?

“I broke a string on my lyre, and I figured there might be a replacement in here.”

Poseidon gestured for Odysseus to enter and look. At least it was only something trivial, and the mortal would be gone soon enough. Just a minute or two of his presence, and he would leave.

That was what Poseidon had thought, anyway. He wasn’t expecting Odysseus to sit down, restringing his lyre. He definitely wasn’t expecting him to start playing.

“Why are you still here?”

“Hm?” Odysseus seemed almost startled as he looked up from his lyre. “Ah, well, I was feeling a little tired, so I thought sitting here would be easier. There’s no problem, is there?”

A small smile played across the mortal’s face as he spoke, almost imperceptible. He was goading Poseidon, the god was sure of it.

Well he wasn’t going to let Odysseus win.

“No, there is no problem.”

“Oh, good,” Odysseus said before resuming his playing.

Poseidon was settling himself to try to ignore the other’s presence when a discordant note broke his peace.

And another.

Was the mortal really so incompetent with the instrument? He shouldn’t have been. As a king, his education should have covered the lyre well enough for him to have at least basic skill.

Not that that was stopping Odysseus. He kept making mistakes, slowly getting further into Poseidon’s head.

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

Poseidon stood, leaving the room and heading for the bath, where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed.

He undressed, stepping into the water. It was nice to have a moment of peace, and to spend some time in the water. He couldn’t reach the ocean while stuck on this island, so the bath was the closest he could get. It still wasn’t much of a substitute, though.

He was kept away from his home, the ocean where he had lived for so long. He was away from his family, his godly duties. This was a ridiculous punishment.

And yet it seemed he was stuck here.

Even his one consolation, that he might find some semblance of peace with Odysseus avoiding him, had been dashed.

Only a few days ago, the mortal had still had wariness in his eyes when he looked at Poseidon. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore. Poseidon couldn’t confirm it — he was hardly going to ask the mortal — but he was sure Odysseus was deliberately antagonising him with that lyre.

Thinking back, there were a few moments in the days since Hermes’ visit that could have been deliberate attempts to antagonise him. Nothing to this scale though, only minor annoyances.

At least Poseidon wouldn’t be disturbed while he was bathing. He didn’t think Odysseus was quite so bold as to do that, despite his hubris.

What was Poseidon to do, though, about the mortal’s apparent newfound interest in annoying him?

Poseidon had planned to avoid Odysseus until Zeus changed his mind, realised Poseidon had duties to attend to, but that did not mean he would let the mortal do whatever he wanted.

He would sooner spend eternity on this island than let a mortal best him. If Odysseus was going to make avoiding him impossible, Poseidon was not going to betray himself just for a chance to be let off the island.

He would not be the one to play nice.

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Wait...

Since Scylla is meant to parallel Odysseus as a monster..

She says "We're lonely demons from hell"

If we count that everything she says in her song can be applied too that phrase stands out and doesn't make much sense

But if you think about it, Odysseus wasn't born or isn't from the underworld, but you know who was born in the underworld? The monster

Jorge you fucking genius