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saanphoenix · 3 years

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“Why do so many old-school FFVII fans think that Cloud took Zack’s memories?”

Alright, so first things first. We gotta start from the beginning. We gotta start with Jenova.

Jenova is the name given to the alien entity known as the Calamity. “Heaven’s dark harbinger.” This being, assumed to be female because of the body she was in at the Crater, was basically godlike in her natural abilities. Historically, she was able to shapeshift. She was telepathic. She had a nigh indomitable will. And she used her abilities to infect the race of human(oid)s that happened upon her crash site--the Cetra.

Now, Ifalna, within the English translation of the OG, states that Jenova turned the Cetra into monsters, nearly wiping them all out, and that the wee few that remained basically had to be sacrificed to seal Jenova away before she could do anymore damage to all life on the planet. The notes Sephiroth finds within the Shinra Mansion seem to corroborate this version of events, as he tells Zack that the Cetra chose to fight the Calamity while the other humans “hid”, thus being spared Jenova’s shenanigans, allowing them to become the dominant race on the planet, but ultimately being cowards unworthy to be the shepherds of any star, to quote Emet-Selch from FFXIV. Stay with me now.

We also know that the notes Sephiroth reads within the Shinra Mansion do not, in any way, call Jenova the Calamity. They still refer to her as a Cetra. Meaning that those notes are outdated, before the discovery of a living Cetra, a Cetra who is 2000 years removed from her own people’s history. Right? So.

(’Ah, but what about Genesis point-blank telling Sephiroth the truth? He knew what was up!’ Yes, because Hollander and Hojo found out from Gast’s recordings, and Ifalna herself, what Jenova actually was, and then Hollander told Genesis, who then said some stupid ass shit to trigger Sephiroth into looking into the wrong information, and now Nibelheim is not Nibelheim anymore and Cloud is missing one more family member than he was when he joined Shinra. Also, fuck Genesis. Anyway.)

HOJO, yeah? Hojo, in two separate novels written by Nojima himself, states to Aerith and Tseng separately that Jenova 1) will inevitably infect all life on the planet with her “cells” because of the very nature of the Lifestream and 2) turned the Cetra against each other via subtle manipulation and illusions of their loved ones, dead or alive, conceived from their own memories. She didn’t show up looking like the Eldritch horror with the eyeball nipple, she showed up looking like a run-of-the-mill Cetra. And she would further disguise herself as people a Cetra knew in order to gain their trust. And then, after she had gained that trust, she would say shit like, “Hey. Your friend over there hates you,” or, “Hey. Your friend over there wants to kill you.” And thus the Cetra, at the very least morally but probably also physically, became monsters and tore themselves apart.

You ever wonder why everything the Cetra had was booby-trapped and hidden behind riddles and self-sacrificial bullshit like their Temple? My guess is because Jenova made it so they couldn’t trust anyone, even themselves.

“Why did I read all that? What does that have to do with Cloud voring Zack’s memories?”

Because we gotta understand the mechanics of this bitch first so that we know what to look out for.

Now, we have an alien in stasis--presumed dead but definitely not--and a buncha scientists who really want a coveted spot sucking President Shinra’s dick as head of the Science Dept. who all think that taking the genetic material of a Cetra and splicing it into a modern-day human’s DNA will give them a Geiger counter to the Promised Land. Which they want to use as fuel because only some of them really understand what mako is and the others are just fucking stupid. Anyway, my guess is that they archeology their way to Jenova’s still-kinda-alive corpse and do some DNA testing and go, “Ah! We’ve found a Cetra. It has to be one! She’s by the crater, after all, and that’s where some of them were nuked by a Meteor! :) We’re geniuses!” And Jenova, in the Lifestream, went, “GOTCHA, BITCH!”

And through the power of dino DNA, out pops a lot of nonviable lifeforms, some monsters, and, eventually, a relatively normal kid with a flare for the dramatic who will become wholly obsessed with apples and very boring literature that he will insist on repeating every five goddamn seconds. As he was no Geiger counter to the Promised Land, out pops another relatively normal kid who will grow up to have dreams, and honor, and steal food from his neighbors because he was so damn honorable that he just could not ask for a handout.

With Hollander and Gillian’s experiments not producing anything of note other than children that need love and support, Hojo and Lucrecia decide to take a slightly different sample of Jenova’s cells and just start sticking them everywhere. They’re in Lucrecia. They’re in Lucrecia’s fetus. And...something strange starts to happen.

Lucrecia starts to feel the effects of Jenova. Lucrecia’s mind and body start to kind of deteriorate. Not the way that Genesis’ and Angeal’s do later on, but she is plagued by shit like severe depression and fatigue. She falls out on the floor multiple times. Her bodyguard is a little late on pulling the trigger of the gun aimed at her husband and, instead of doing anything productive about her husband proving he’s an amoral murderous fuckhead, she just decides to play doll with her kinda undead bodyguard, get even sicker, and then, finally, pops out a very strange looking baby. In fact, he looks a little alien.

“No, seriously, what does this have to do with anything?”

Genetics. How Jenova cells work. Whatever clump of cells they injected into Lucrecia, clearly different from those used in Project G, seemed to focus more on the mental fuckery aspect of Jenova than the physical, shapeshifting aspect of Jenova. I would also argue that one of the reasons Lucrecia was so adversely affected by the cells and Gillian was not is their mental well-being. Gillian, even when we meet her, seems very upbeat and doing pretty okay despite her husband having died from exhaustion a coupla years back. Lucrecia was depressed and very subservient even before she married Hojo. Losing her mentor--Vincent’s father--probably exacerbated that. And, later in Advent Children, that sort of mentality--hopelessness and despair--is what Sephiroth’s Geostigma feeds off of. That and thoughts of death/dying. But that is more speculation than anything.

So, Sephiroth’s cells are different from Genesis’ and Angeal’s, and they were all three bred differently, but they’re all kinda chimeras of Jenova’s. And once Genesis learns about his origins, it’s like the lightbulb goes off. This guy’s creating clones by infecting his 2nd and 3rd Class SOLDIERs with his own cells. And when he does that, their physical appearance becomes his own. As does their will. Whatever Genesis wants, the clones also want. And then he just grows a wing for shits and giggles. Once he tells his BFF Angeal the sitch, behold! He’s got monster clones--maybe because he realizes how fucked up overwriting a human being with yourself is--and wings, too. ...Why?

The power to do all of this shit was always there. It was genetically always there. They just had to be made aware of it, to have the puzzle piece put into place. When Sephiroth dies, that puzzle piece is put into place. And then he starts fuckin’ with shit. And turns into monstrous angels. And then dies again. And then comes back and finally grows himself his own wing. He did it, fellas. He’s a big boy now.

But we’re not here to talk about Sephiroth--ignore how much I talked about Sephiroth and his mommies previously--we’re here to talk about ZACK and CLOUD.

“What’s up with Zack and Cloud?”

First, what we must realize is that even though Hojo says that both Zack and Cloud are failed clones because they 1) didn’t take on any physical characteristics of Sephiroth, 2) didn’t seem controlled by Jenova (or Sephiroth) and, 3) didn’t exhibit the other signs of a Reunion impulse like the other clones in Nibelheim that does not mean that Sephiroth’s cells, Jenova’s cells, are not working on them.

As we’ve observed in other 1sts, abilities do not always manifest immediately or even noticeably. Clearly, Sephiroth’s physical appearance is a bit of a hint, but Genesis and Angeal look pretty damn normal and, if it weren’t for their mako injections, they probably wouldn’t be showing that much of an increase in physical capabilities. Theoretically. Maybe 10-year-old Angeal had biceps the size of a man’s head. I mean. Pff.

Zack’s tolerance to Jenova was strong due to his previous exposure in the SOLDIER program. Cloud’s mind broke pretty early on. Neither of these results matter to the fact that they both now have Sephiroth’s cells within them--just as Genesis’ and Angeal’s clones had theirs--and that their very wills are now going to be affected by Sephiroth’s. But they are also going to be a little bit like him in terms of power.

Zack’s hair, when ingested by a Genesis clone, a clone of a Type-G SOLDIER, transforms that clone into a monster. Zack doesn’t even have to do anything. The Jenova/Sephiroth cells within his body can just Do That, cause that change in another life form, of their own accord. I’m honestly shocked that, whenever they gave Zack these S-cells, HE didn’t turn into a monster. But that’s neither here nor there. I wanna talk about Cloud.

Cloud has mako poisoning, which the Remake describes as his spirit/soul being stuck between his body and the Lifestream. Weird. Anyway, he’s not fully aware of his surroundings at all times, and he clearly can’t control his body that much. He somehow has the ability to kinda get his feet shuffling, and I’m going to go on a limb and say he can chew whatever food Zack gives him, but most of the time, he’s a puppet with cut strings.

But he is also still recovering from a mind break caused by Jenova cells. The same cells that are just chilling in his body, like they are in Zack’s. And all the months Zack is dragging his ass across a continent, an ocean, and another continent, they and Cloud are listening to whatever the fuck Zack is saying. Cloud is also constantly in physical contact with Zack.

In The Kids Are Alright: A Turks Side Story, Kadaj has the power to not only read surface thoughts and memories just by being near someone, but he can also read deeper ones by making physical contact with someone. Because Jenova. And Sephiroth, whose cells Cloud and Zack have, in the OG demonstrates that he, too, can glean thoughts and memories from others. Because Jenova.

If this power is a genetic trait, as it is with Genesis and Angeal, then, sitting pretty underneath their skin, Zack and Cloud have this ability. Dormant. Snoozing. Kinda like the 1st Class Trio’s wings.

But Zack has a high tolerance and a high ignorance to Jenova and just what he might be capable of. Cloud’s mind is floating in and out at best. He’s not in control of himself. And when you have a situation like that, it is very, very easy to come to the conclusion that Cloud’s Jenova cells are passively absorbing the memories of Zack’s time in Nibelheim. That they are knitting these memories together with what little remain in Cloud’s head. That when Tifa comes across Cloud at the train station and calls him by name and remembers who he is that Cloud’s Jenova cells latch onto those memories in Tifa--as Sephiroth tells them they did--and they knit those memories with Zack’s and Cloud’s and the end result is the man we get at the beginning of the OG.

Because Cloud has visual memory of shit he never saw. It’s not just a visual medium telling a visual story. You wanna know how I know that for a fact? Because, in the Remake, Cloud remembers Sephiroth walking up to Jenova’s tank in the reactor from Sephiroth’s perspective. He is looking through Sephiroth’s eyes, through his memory, up at “Mother.” In that moment in the Remake, Cloud is Sephiroth. He’s not Cloud anymore.

Cloud sees Sephiroth delivering the speech of being an Ancient. Cloud wasn’t there. Cloud didn’t see that. Zack did. That is Zack’s memory.

The man writing the Remake is the same man who’s been at the head of MOST FFVII writing. He was on the OG, he wrote Advent Children, he wrote the novels, he wrote Crisis Core, he’s writing the Remake. He knows what these cells can do because he’s crafted this world-building for decades.

Cloud didn’t take all of Zack’s memories. He didn’t need to. Kadaj, in the novel, doesn’t glean everything from someone right off the bat. Because he doesn’t need to. Only when he needs to learn something else does he go digging. The same is probably true for what Cloud’s cells most likely did to be able to know what he knows. Hell! Kadaj gets punched in the novel and he ACCIDENTALLY picks up the emotions and memories of the guy who punched him. He didn’t want ‘em but he got ‘em!”

There is evidence within the OG, and even more within the Compilation, that lend weight to the theory that Cloud unintentionally read Zack’s mind when it came to the events of Nibelheim.

For years, people have wondered, “How the hell does Cloud know that if he wasn’t there?” For years, people have wondered, “How can he use the Buster Sword if he was just a little grunt that used a gun all the time?” The logical answer is, “Because of his Jenova cells. They can just do that shit.”

#long post #ffvii #ffvii spoilers #zack fair #cloud strife #jenova #sephiroth #jesus christ i wrote a novel

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certifiedmoth · 5 years

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Parent’s Night In

Dad!Michael x Reader

Summary: Michael and Y/N finally get the house to themselves for one night while their kids are away

Notes: This is really sweet and fluffy!! I could write about dad!michael for the rest of my life (and I just might, oops), also - michael’s kids don’t actually make an appearance in this fic, so it’s not really michael being a dad, it’s more about what mikey & y/n get up to when the kids aren’t there ... anyways, enjoy! ♥ (gif credit to @lngdns)

Warnings: Smut (unprotected sex, light choking, cum eating), light daddy/mommy kink, light breeding kink, lmao i’m ridiculous i’m like “it’s FLUFFY” and then proceed to list my warnings like BREEDING KINK, CHOKING

Word Count: 7.3K

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Sighing from exhaustion, Michael’s fingertips curled around the ornate door handle, opening the large mahogany door to his secluded and private home in the sanctuary. Expecting to hear the familiar and entertaining sounds of chaos fill the air, the devil’s son was instead greeted by silence. He couldn’t remember a time when his house had been so quiet and still. Since the arrival of his little ones, movement and noise seemed to fill every grand hallway and room. Their infectious laughter and the pitter patter of their tiny feet echoed throughout the large contemporary-style home at all times of the day. What was once a quiet paradise shared between him and his lover, quickly grew into a home overflowing with love.

It had been years since you and Michael had decided to finally start a family. It was much too big of a house for just the two of you, Michael had pointed out one afternoon while walking through the gardens in the large estate with your hand held gently in his. With the sun almost setting, it had gleamed against his golden hair and turned his eyes into blue pools of liquid crystal, making him look almost godlike. If you hadn’t known better, you might have thought he was an angel.

“You know, my love… As much as I’d love to hide away here with you forever,” his strong arms found their way around your waist, pulling you against his warm body. “This place might look a lot nicer with some little ones running around.”

That night, Michael had promised to put life inside of you. Loving touches and sweet moans filled the air as your bodies moved passionately together beneath the sheets; the two of you intertwined and inseparable without a care in the world. In your blissful state, you would have stayed that way forever if it weren’t for the chirping of birds outside, reminding you a new day had arrived. The stars had vanished and the sun had crept its way into the sky once more, Michael’s promise being fulfilled as he placed gentle kisses to your bare stomach, whispering, “This is the beginning of everything, my love.”

Over time, the two of you eventually grew into five and upon reflection, you both thought you were crazy for putting off being parents for such a long time. So much love and joy came into your lives with each pregnancy and each new addition to the family. Michael loved being a father and you loved being a mother. Your family meant everything to the both of you.

Shortly after the birth of your last child, the two of you laid under mountains of blankets in your four-poster bed laughing at the fact that you were somehow finally outnumbered. Three children and only two of you. Michael had sat up against the antique headboard and crossed his hands behind his head, leaning back cockily while muttering a nonchalant, “I can handle it.”

Memories of previous fiascoes involving Michael as a parent all filled your mind as you squinted up at him. He had once spilled a bottle of milk all over himself, the black of his designer coat drenched in the white substance. And not to mention, the very first time he ever changed a diaper – It was something he definitely did not like reminiscing about. And who could forget the time he trudged through the house, looking utterly exhausted as two squealing toddlers hung to each of his legs? The memories brought a smile to your already laughing face as you pat his thigh condescendingly and spoke in a mocking tone, “Okay, sure, papa bear.”

But years later, he showed that he genuinely could handle it. He never once faltered as a father, or a husband, for that matter. Always loving and attentive to each and every one of his babies needs – including yours.

Michael stood still in the grand entryway, his brows knitting together as he took in the silence of his once noisy home. “Y/N?” he yelled loudly, hoping to hear your angelic voice ring throughout the halls. “Hello?” His graceful legs carried him away from the front door, only to pick up a stuffed animal that had been thrown on the ground from earlier. His boots echoed throughout the house as he walked into the living room, noticing how still the air was. His long fingers fidgeted with the plush cat before exhaling a discontent sigh and discarding it on the couch.

“Hello…?” his voice, which now carried a slight tone of agitation, rang throughout the house as he considered where his loved ones could be. A kiss from his wife or a hug from one of his babies would have been really appreciated after the long day he had. It became apparent to Michael earlier that he worked with a bunch of non-deserving imbeciles who seemingly forgot who Michael was and what he was capable of. Certain individuals had decided upon themselves to question Michael’s way of running things, even challenging him in front of the board. And he might have had to put a couple of people in their place – in his own particularly cruel and satisfying way. The silence that ensued was quite enjoyable on his end. However, the silence he heard now in his own house did nothing to soothe his nerves. He longed for the sound of his loved ones.

“In here, baby!” Your voice eased his worries as it rang from the kitchen just a couple rooms over. He would never tire of hearing you call him by that name. Every new day as you awoke in bed, you greeted him with a kiss and a small, “morning, baby.” Hearing the pet name come from your lips filled him with an insurmountable amount of love and he wondered every morning just what exactly he had done to deserve you.

Aromatic smells of garlic and basil wafted through the kitchen as he found you with your back turned to him, attending to something on the six-burner stove. His boots clicked loudly against the marble floor, only stopping when the warmth of his chest radiated against your back. “Hm, what’s this? My beautiful wife all by herself?” His arms wove around your waist as he placed a gentle kiss on your bare shoulder. The soft material of his black coat felt comforting as his body wrapped around your tiny frame.

“Not by herself anymore,” your pleased voice rang in his ears as you stopped stirring the boiling pot of water full of homemade pasta. As you put the wooden spoon down and turned your head over your shoulder, you were greeted with blue eyes. The same blue eyes you had fallen in love with all those years ago. “Hi, baby,” you leaned in for a quick kiss, finally greeting the man who possessed your heart.

“Hi, my love,” he whispered as he pulled away, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your waist. The over-the-top smile you gave him before turning back to the food on the stove had his own plush lips turning up at the corners. “And… exactly where are my babies?” He questioned, refusing to let go of his hold on you as he squeezed your waist abruptly, enjoying your ticklish body squirming against his own.

“Michael, do not start with that,” you warned unconvincingly as the laughter in your voice betrayed you. “Miriam took them for the night,” you winced as a drop of hot water splashed against your hand. Even with something you loved as much as cooking and had done a million times before, you were still your same clumsy self and it warmed Michael’s heart to see you like this. He mindlessly took your hand in his and placed his lips gently to your skin – his way of making things better. “She practically begged me,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Said something about ‘missing the youngsters’, I don’t really know,” your shoulders shrugged as you placed bundles of basil in a second pan full of simmering tomatoes.

“Well…” Michael’s voice was smooth like honey as he continued, “Good – As much as I love our little ones, it’s nice to have the place to ourselves for once,” he closed his eyes, breathing in your calming scent. “My love, I’ve missed you…” His delicate fingertips moved your hair away from your neck and he placed a small, but loving kiss there. “Let me go get out of these clothes and then I’m all yours.” His grasp on you finally lets up and the warmth your back grew accustomed to vanishes as his boots clicked once more against the floor.

Watching him walk across the room, you admired the way his tight pants showed off one of his greatest assets and just as if he read your mind, Michael turned his head knowingly to look at you. With his eyes squinted, he purred a quiet “naughty girl” and shot you a wink before swiftly exiting the kitchen.

The silver utensils clinked against one another as you set the table in your dining room for only two that night. Candles flickered in their respective places with the chandelier high above in the air casting a soft glow around its surroundings that turned the atmosphere into an intimate one. The smell of freshly made pasta filled the warm room as it sat in porcelain dishes ready to be devoured. The only thing that seemed to be missing was a special someone to share it with.

“Boo,” a voice whispered right next to your ear causing you to shriek and clutch your chest in shock.

“I hate when you do that!” you scolded your laughing husband who found too much enjoyment in using his transmutation abilities to startle you.

“I know, darling – But you’re just too adorable when frightened like this,” his voice smooth as velvet as he held in his outstretched hand the last thing that was needed for tonight – your favorite cabernet.

“You’re lucky I love you or else I might not want to put up with you,” you grumbled in a joking manner, feigning a small pout as he leaned in to place his lips against your temple, giving it a quick kiss before walking towards your chair and pulling it out.

“Oh hush, you’ll put up with me for eternity, just as I’ll put up with you even after we’re sitting as king and queen in my father’s domain. Now… Please sit, mademoiselle,” he tilted his head towards the plush oxblood and gold chair. The corners of your mouth lifted from the sound of the French word rolling off his tongue. He knew that was one of your weaknesses, the cheeky man. You rolled your eyes at him, slyly mouthing the word “whatever” before finding your place on the soft cushion.

Abruptly, your chair is pushed in as Michael bends down gracefully behind you and places his face close to yours. The warmth of his skin radiates off of your neck as his delicate breath cools the skin there, sending a small shiver down your spine. His stubble, the result of him not shaving for a couple of days, rubs against your skin in a teasing manner and the alluring man whispers lowly, “Now I know you aren’t using the W word with me. What would your children think, hm?”

The scoff that leaves you entertains him like nothing else, “Don’t play the mom card on me!”

“I most certainly will play the mom card on you, my love.” His once amused eyes adopted a feigned innocence and his plush lips turned into an exaggerated pout, “Your children would be so upset about mommy treating daddy like this.”

You shook your head in disbelief and placed your elbow on the rich, thick wood of the dining table, hiding the large grin that was plastered across your face behind your hand, “Just pour the wine.”

His deep and elegant laugh echoed off of the walls as he opened the bottle of red. You admired the muscles in his toned arms tensing as he worked the cork out. This was the Michael you enjoyed most. When he dressed casually, a simple black t-shirt that hugged his chest tightly and sweatpants that once again showed off his perfect physique. His long, golden locks were hung in a loose bun with the occasional strand falling out, framing his handsome face. The red eyeshadow he wore in public still painted the corners of his cerulean eyes and you fell in love all over again. How icy his eyes had looked the first time you met him – but now how warm and inviting they were. The ice in his irises turning to a sizzling fire that burned blue – they never failed to swallow you up whole in the sapphire warmth that they held.

With both of your glasses filled generously, Michael took his place across from you. You noticed he still wore his jewelry from earlier in the day as the rings adorning his slender fingers chimed against the surface of his glass when he picked it up ever so gently to take a sip. Carefully, you watched as he licked his lips of the crimson liquid, his eyes closing shut in a moment of bliss as he savored this moment of peace.

“Are you done staring?” Your face scrunched up at his calm words and the smug look that adorned his face as his eyes then opened and stared amusingly back at you.

“No, I’m not done. I think I’ll stare for a bit longer, is that okay with you?” your tone playful as you stuck the tip of your tongue out at him.

He shook his head as he began eating from the plate in front of him, letting out a small sound of satisfaction as the flavors melted against his tongue. He went to pick up his wine glass again and shot a wink your way, “Tsk tsk, such a trouble maker, you are... This is amazing, by the way, my love.”

His praise warmed your heart as you began eating yourself. “Of course I am… Plus, you’re a trouble maker yourself, Mr. Langdon – you don’t fool me for one bit,” you winked back at him. “You need somebody to match your troublesome ways – Why else would you have married me?” You laughed to yourself, enjoying the familiar banter you and your husband frequently shared in.

“There are a million reasons why I married you, ma chérie. And I’m not trying to fool you,” his eyes showed a dangerous edge to them as they gleamed under the soft light of the room, a devilish grin appearing on his striking face. “Although I do believe you still have me beat, regardless of how troublesome I am, Mrs. Langdon.”

“Whatever you say,” you cheerily sing, the smug look on your face not wavering. The corners of Michael’s lips turned up into a smile as he finally felt relaxed from the stresses of his day.

You both took your time enjoying your meal without the hassle of having to wrangle 3 children under 7 years old to stay still at the table. Dinner time was always nice, but it was usually spent with toys littering every surface and making sure every kid ate enough. To just have each other’s company was a gift – and neither of you took it for granted.

Your dishes found themselves in the sink to be left for later and your wine glasses (and a new bottle) found their place on the glass coffee table in the living room, thanks to Michael’s abilities. When you had offered to have a movie night, Michael replied, in his own affectionate way, by swiftly picking you up and carrying you to the plush, sectional couch where your wine was waiting for you.

“How did you know I’d want to come in here?” You squinted at him while picking up your glass and finishing off what was left in there.

“Darling, even if I couldn’t read your mind, we’ve known each other so long I basically know what you’re thinking at any given time,” he shrugged nonchalantly, pouring some more of the crimson liquid into your neglected glass.

“You said you wouldn’t do that, Mikey.” The nickname he was never fond of. It was juvenile and undermined his power, apparently. You didn’t think that but he had some serious opinions on the matter one very drunk night 5 years ago.

His eyes glanced from your wine glass to your own irises swiftly in a warning manner. “I said I would try not to do that,” he spoke calmly.

“Oh, don’t tell me the big and powerful antichrist can’t fight the urge to read a simple human’s mind,” you pushed further, loving the way his chest puffed out as he was getting riled up but didn’t want to show it.

“Y/N, you know what I’m capable of – perhaps it’s just that I’m not trying my hardest to stop your thoughts from flooding my mind. It is nice, occasionally, hearing your voice more frequently. Although, I can’t say that applies to the present.” Michael looked positively happy with himself as he breathed out a victorious sigh and took his place next to you against the emerald cushion.

Even though you were a pain in his ass, something he was able to joke around with you about, he truly loved how defiant you were – How you were never afraid to challenge him. He was aware of how in love you were with him, so he never worried about your intentions. A younger, more insecure Michael would have broken down at your words. There was so much shame that followed Michael around those days about how needy he was for your love and praise. He needed to know that he was loved always, and if he never received that he would have spiraled. But the Michael who laid next to you tonight was a different man. He knew that he was the only man to cross your mind. The only man to have access to your heart. He never needed to worry that your love for him wasn’t true – He was confident and secure in just how loved he was.

The fireplace lit by itself and some candles nearby as well, casting the room in a dim glow. The air felt warmer and cozier as you two nestled in the comfort of each other. The couch you lay on was big enough for nearly three of your families to enjoy but you and Michael always gravitated towards each other, finding yourselves intertwined and melted into one another.

“Any ideas, love?” Michael questioned while flipping through channels on the large flat screen and absentmindedly playing with your hair. A habit of his you found out early on in your relationship. You swore it calmed him almost as much as it did you – It gave him some type of comfort to rest his hands in your hair and play with the loose strands. It was one of your favorite things that he did. Such a small, but loving act that never failed to soothe you.

“Hm…” your voice trailed off in thought. “I was thinking we could watch the omen?” You joke, noticing the way his hand stills and his face shifts to look down at you – There was no doubt that he was glaring at you. His intimidating appearance did nothing to you though as you knew him better than anyone and knew he would appreciate that joke. The corners of his mouth eventually turn up, betraying him as he fights a smile.

“You know…” Michael starts off with a sigh. “I’m so good to you… I treat you like a goddess, I bring you gifts, I’m a good father, a loving husband… and this is the kind of treatment I get?”

The laugh that erupts from you is contagious as it reverberates off the walls. Michael shakes his head while a soft chuckle falls from his lips. You can feel his chest move as some loose strands of his hair tickle the side of your face. How warm and soft he was and how grateful you were to be held in this man’s arms. And there he was, beside you, feeling as if he was the luckiest man on earth to be able to hold you against him and call you “his”.

“Okay, what about Omen 2?” you ask, looking up at him with mischief in your eyes. The scoff he lets out almost sounds comical. In retaliation, his hands quickly snake around your waist and dig into your skin causing a loud yelp to erupt from you.

“Michael, stop!” you plead between gasps. Your laughter and squeals fill the room and the other man enjoys the way you fight back against him. Michael always loved how ticklish you were; the sadistic side of him rarely ever came out around you, because he loved you too much to cause you any real pain, but he did enjoy the pleasurable suffering that came out of attacking you like this.

“Maybe you should be nicer to me…” His voice a mere whisper as he hummed against your skin while pushing you down onto the couch. You were enveloped in his warmth, his body laying against you possessively. Somehow when you two were alone, things always took a turn, regardless of what you were doing. You never really could seem to keep your hands off of one another. Regardless of your age, you were still two needy teenagers hopelessly in love.

“But if I’m always nice, you might not behave like this…” you purr, nudging your nose against his.

“So, your bad behavior is really just a cry for attention, then?” His face is smug and triumphant – the cocky bastard, you think to yourself. He quirks his eyebrow before placing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. “No naughty words, mama… You really ought to learn to be nice to daddy.”

You want to continue fighting him, but the more he talks, the more your body melts against his. Your breathing deepens and all that fills your mind is how good his body feels against yours – clothed or not.

“I- I thought I told you to stay out of my head, Langdon,” you manage to get out. Your hands trail down to the small of his back where his shirt has bunched up, revealing a small part of exposed skin. He’s warm to the touch and you can’t help but dig your hands under the band of his sweatpants to feel more of him. He eyes you hungrily while a smirk graces his golden face. Slowly, he leans down close to your ear, his breath hits your skin and it drives you crazy with lust.

“I thought you like it when I’m inside you?” His voice taunts as he notices the chill that runs through you. You can feel his smile against your skin as he takes his time kissing your neck, sucking gently and occasionally leaving small love bites.

“Baby, no marks. We don’t need the kids asking why mommy’s bruised all over,” you remind him.

“Wear a scarf or makeup to cover it. I’m not stopping,” his voice is stern as he bites harshly on your skin before pulling away to place his forehead against yours.

Your breath is shaky with desire and he matches your intensity as you both breathe in each other. You lay there for several moments, neither of you feeling the need to rush or say anything – you simply take your time feeling each other and melting into one another.

He’s the first to move when he places his plump lips gently on yours, holding them there for a second too long. His movements are slow and passionate and it sets your heart ablaze to feel so much love radiating off of him.

“We could make another one, you know…” His voice soft and his hand gentle as it strokes your cheek. The blush that has found its way onto your skin warms his heart as his blue eyes stare down at you longingly. Some lose strands of his golden hair fall around your face and you can feel the metal of his rings grace your cheek as he holds you as if you were a delicate glass figure, capable of breaking at the slightest touch.

“Think you can handle another one?” you whisper.

“I can handle it,” the corners of his lips turn up making you replicate his smile as your mind remembers the exact moment he uttered those same words after the birth of your last child.

All it takes is Michael leaning down the slightest bit and his lips are attached to yours. Your familiar taste, in addition to the copious amounts of wine consumed that night, hits his tongue and he pushes his body further down onto yours. You feel him harden more as your hands roam his body – making their way from inside his sweatpants to underneath his shirt, exploring his warm skin. You needed to feel him on you and from the way he was acting, he needed you just as bad.

His lips found their way to your neck again as he mischievously sucked red and purple marks, making sure to disobey your previous command. The feeling of his tongue running over the sensitive love bites causes you to exhale a needy moan and Michael catches it instantly.

“Somebody’s a little excited… hm?” He teases, nipping at your skin. “Is somebody a little desperate for my touch?” Michael smugly questions while continuing his assault on your neck. While he was busy with tasting you and marking you, he paid no attention to the way in which his pants grew tighter – But you did.

“I wouldn’t say that I’m the only one,” you push his hips down onto yours while simultaneously thrusting up. His movements still as a sensual moan falls from his slightly swollen lips. His stubble rubs against the sensitive skin on your neck and you wince, before the pain turns to pleasure. The smell of his cologne fills you while you take notice of his hard length resting in between your bodies.

“Of course I’m desperate for your touch,” his tough guy act comes crumbling down as he is replaced with a soft and needy longing to feel your bare skin on his. To be as close to you as he can – to feel your warmth surround him and comfort him.

Michael’s hand makes its way under your shirt, exploring the skin there before resting on your breast. He massages you tenderly, noticing the way your nipples perk up at his familiar warm touch. A moan is released from your mouth while he pinches your nipple and rolls it in his long fingers delicately. You were filled with so much need for this man, it was almost becoming unbearable. Your underwear became more and more drenched with your arousal while his erection twitched against your stomach – your bodies needed one another, needed to touch one another and elicit that sinful euphoria that only you two could give each other.

You started tugging at Michael’s shirt and he replicated your actions. With his lips still attached to yours, he lifted himself up, bringing you with him to rid you both of your clothes. Much to his dismay, you pulled away but only to lift his shirt off of his body and let it drop to the floor. Your hands ran down his chest as you took in the sight of him – no matter how many years you had been together, you never got over the way he looked. You melted at the sight of your bare husband, but needed more. His lips captured yours again while your fingers went straight to his sweatpants.

“Eager miss,” Michael smiled against your lips, enjoying the feeling of your hands so close to where he needed them. A small whimper fell from your mouth at being called out for how desperate you were for the man before you. Michael delicately lifted your shirt off of you and discarded it gently to the floor before pulling you in for another kiss. His tongue licked your bottom lip while he let out a shaky breath from the feeling of your fingertips gracing his neglected cock. You could feel a wet spot from where his precum had leaked out and you thought for a moment to tease him about it, just to get him a little more worked up – but the truth was that you were too desperate for him, you needed him now. You couldn’t waste time on banter right this second.

With Michael being as sneaky as he is, his hand appeared against your core eliciting a small gasp from you. He took his chance and dove his tongue into your mouth, tasting you while rubbing little circles against your clothed heat. Your arms went around his neck as you pulled him close to you and rocked your hips gently against his fingers. The pleasure pooling in your abdomen was screaming at you with need for him.

“Baby, I need you… please…” You nearly begged your husband. Your hand raked itself into his golden hair, massaging the lower part of his scalp as his hair rest lazily in its bun. His strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as you were gently laid against the plush cushions again.

“Anything for you, my love,” he breathed out huskily, pulling his sweatpants off while licking his swollen lips. The sight of Michael finally completely bare nearly had you pawing at the man; you would never tire of seeing him like this.

His cock glistened and bobbed up and down as he knelt before you and slowly dragged your pants off of your legs, throwing them beside his own. Michael noticed the plush cat from earlier lying beside you and he frustratingly tossed it on the floor, not needing a reminder of who that belonged to while him and his wife were trying to be intimate. He leaned down to envelop you in a warm embrace, sighing contentedly in the crook of your neck at the feeling of your skin against his. Nothing comforted him more.

“Love you so much,” he muttered, feeling absolute safety and love being this close to you.

“Love you, too” your voice a mere whisper. His length rest against your stomach, leaking precum onto your skin. Your hips swiveled around his to try and urge him on and he bit back a groan, taking your hands and raising them above your head to hold them down; a small act of dominance while he lined himself up with your entrance. He laced his fingers in between yours and gently kissed you while thrusting into you slowly.

You shared moans between each other at this familiar feeling taking place. Nothing felt as good as Michael fitting comfortably inside of you. And nothing gave him as much bliss as being surrounded by your warm walls. Your bodies melted in to each other, just as they had a thousand times before; he moved his hips back slowly, only to thrust into you once more.

He found a nice, slow pace, wanting to savor and feel every part of your body. His cock slid in and out of you, setting your body on fire from the feeling of him stretching you out over and over again. Michael’s face rest in the crook of your neck, his stubble rubbing deliciously against your skin with each thrust of his hips. So tender he held your hands above your head while rubbing small circles with his thumbs against your skin. You felt his large rings against your hand, but you paid most attention to the one on his left ring finger – Sometimes you still couldn’t believe you were blessed enough to be married to the love of your life. And to feel the things he made you feel. Particularly like this, with his hips curving into yours upwards, hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

The moans that escaped your lips were heaven to his ears – Sometimes he truly thought you were an angel. “How could something this beautiful belong to me?” He would think over and over again, completely in awe every time he had you beneath him like this.

“Michael… faster…” you pleaded, feeling the fire in your lower abdomen spark. His hands left yours and instead found their place elsewhere. His left arm wrapped itself under your neck to support you and his right held your hip tightly in its grasp. You didn’t think he could possibly get closer to you, but here he was holding your body in his arms while picking up his pace and snapping his hips into yours; his lips danced across your skin.

The tip of his cock thrust deep into you as lewd sounds filled the air. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down while the veins in his arms became more prominent as adrenaline coursed through him. Your head felt dizzy with lust and need for Michael to give you your release, but you also wanted to savor this moment – for it to never end. You needed him, but at the same time you wanted to take your time. His chuckle broke your train of thought.

“Darling, trust me when I say this isn’t the last you’ll have of me tonight. Go ahead and chase your high, my love,” he encouraged the fire in you building; his building as well.

“Leave my thoughts alone,” a small giggle left your lips, quickly being replaced with a moan at a particularly hard thrust.

“I thought we share everything?” He teases, thinking back to the vows you spoke on your wedding day.

“But, that’s not fair,” you whine. “I can’t read your mind,” your breath hitches in your throat at how perfect he feels inside of you right now. You never wanted this to end, but took him on his word that this was only the first round.

“I always speak freely to you. You can ask anything your heart desires and I will tell you. You know that, my love. Do you-“ he groans, closing his eyes for a second at the feeling of you clenching and unclenching around his long length. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now?” You stare deeply into his lust-filled blue eyes, your brows furrowed and mouth agape, not being able to respond besides the small nod your head makes. “How badly I want to put another baby in you,” he exhales a growl, his mouth straightening into a line before lowering himself and thrusting into you harder.

His words set you ablaze and you found yourself lost in ecstasy. “Give me a baby, Michael, please,” you beg, raking your nails against his back. “I- I want you to fill me up,” your voice breaks as you feel your orgasm building – an intense pleasure begging to be set free. His breath is shaky against your throat and his thrusts become a bit sloppier as he nears his end himself.

“C’mon, my love. Let go,” you hear his husky voice in your ear as your body begins to tense; you held him tightly to your body feeling your pleasure building and building, ready to explode. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air as Michael rocks his hips into yours. Your needy and desperate moans make it hard for him to focus on anything else but bringing you to your release.

You feel yourself about to tip over the edge as your muscles tense, your breath hitching in your throat and then suddenly you are hurdled into your orgasm, your body letting go as you scream Michael’s name. You feel an explosion of electricity which fades into waves crashing all over your body – pure euphoria. The man above you keeps his tight hold on you as he witnesses you come undone before him.

You slowly begin to open your eyes as the pleasure dissolves leaving you in a state of bliss. You see Michael looking tranced as he watches you before he leans down and crashes his lips on yours, needing to taste you to send him over the edge himself.

“Don’t cum on the couch, baby. We don’t need the kids seeing what we get up to when they’re away.” Your voice is weak as you continue, “Try not to make a mess.” He grips your hip harder as you poke fun at him.

“If I make a mess it’s because of you,” he grunts, his voice raspy and dangerous. “And how tight you are,” he thrusts hard into you enjoying the noise that leaves your lips as he bottoms out in you. His arm resting beneath your neck comes around and he places his large hand around your throat, squeezing gently to tell you to behave. His breath is shaky and you can feel the muscles in his back tense as he’s dangerously close to his own release. “How warm you feel around me,” his irises darken and he lowers himself to kiss you passionately, keeping the tight hold on your neck. “How wet you are… How I’m covered in your arousal,” his hot breath hits your skin as he growls against your lips.

Michael feels the fire in the pit of his stomach grow as his thrusts become sloppy. It’s harder to control himself as he chases his high – the feeling of your lips on his neck feels too good as he groans against your skin. His cock is drenched in your own cum; the loud, wet noises as he thrusts into you fill the dim room.

“My love, I’m… I-“ Michael thrusts as far as he can into you and his body stills, his cock twitching as he releases his warm cum deep inside of you. He grunts loudly as cum explodes from his tip, painting your walls with his seed. This feeling of euphoria is too much and he never wants it to end. He rubs his stubble against your neck as his sweet groans fill your ears; his hips thrusting a couple more times into you to make sure his cum is properly inside of you.

Michael’s body rests on top of yours as he tries to catch his breath, his own pleasure dissolving to leave him in a state of pure bliss. His head rustles slightly against your neck and the loose strands of his hair covering your face soothe you as you hold onto Michael. You feel positively full of him and you think to yourself, you never want this to end, as well.

Your hands delicately run down his back, comforting him as he collects himself and lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours. You take a moment to breathe in each other before he places his lips gently on yours, kissing you with every ounce of love he has for you. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips, stroking your cheek.

You smile up at him, gently tucking a strand of his golden hair behind his ear, “Love you more.”

He shakes his head, smiling down at you as he pecks your cheek softly, lifting himself off of you, “Impossible.” His voice is defiant as he pulls out of you, some of his cum dripping out of you and onto the cushion beneath you.

“Michael, what did I tell you,” your laugh breaks the silence of your house. “You’re cleaning that up,” you look down at the small mess.

“Actually,” he looks at you mischievously. “You’re cleaning that up.” He takes one of his ring-adorned fingers and gathers his cum on it, bringing it to your lips with a smirk on his own. You stare back with a dangerous look yourself, the smile evident on your face urging Michael on. You stare intensely while opening your mouth, ready for him. Michael places his long digit on your tongue and you wrap your lips around him, moaning at the familiar taste. You swirl your tongue around him and suck his finger dry, before he removes it with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Naughty girl,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you and taste himself. He snakes his arm under your waist and holds you to him as he flips you both over; him resting beneath you on the plush couch while your head lays on his chest. His heartbeat can be heard while you run your fingers gently up and down his stomach. His own have taken their place in your hair while he kisses the top of your head.

When you had first met him, his touches had been fast and harsh; he gripped you tightly as if afraid you might slip from his fingers. He was gentle with you nowadays – he had no reason to fear that you’ll leave him. He was soft and delicate, always placing feather-light kisses to your lips in the morning and holding your body close to his gently at night. And he was no different now, his hands graced you softly while he placed kisses to your hair and took in your familiar warmth.

“I think we might just be lucky, my love,” Michael’s voice is soft as he snakes his hand around you to rest on your stomach, something he did immediately after every time you had had sex and given birth nine months later. He just had a way of knowing – even this early on. Your eyes found his and you both shared a look of love before leaning down to rest your head against his chest again, savoring this perfect moment.

You caught yourself in a trance while you ran your fingers across the scars on his arm. “Do you remember when we did this one?” You ask softly to your husband, catching him off guard. He looks down and finds you tracing one of his particularly long gashes from a previous blood ritual you both had taken part in.

“Of course, ma chérie,” his smirk is evident in his voice as a deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. “How could I forget? That was the first time I fucked your other little hole,” he remarks smugly.

“Michael!” you scold him playfully while lifting yourself and hitting his chest. He catches your hand in his and brings it to his lips, kissing you gently while his laughter continues. “So vulgar,” you whisper jokingly while leaning down to kiss him lightly.

“If I remember correctly, you enjoy it when I’m vulgar,” he replies huskily, running his hand down your back. “And if my memory serves me right, you particularly enjoyed that night – and the many others that came after,” he teases, as his hands find their place on your hips, pulling you on top of him as he swivels your hips against his gently.

“Hm, I’m not sure… I think you’ll have to jog my memory,” you feign ignorance, a playful smile forming on your lips.

“Oh, is that right?” His brow raises as he leans up, forcing you into a sitting position. “Hm… I think I will have to help you remember,” he whispers against your throat as he lifts you both off of the couch. Your small giggles can be heard in his ear as he carries you to the master bedroom.

“My darling, I do hope you’re prepared for what I have planned for you tonight,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re going to get fucked so hard, you’ll never be able to forget it,” his voice is raspy and dangerous as he grips your skin tight in his, making his way down the hall. “Our children will wonder what happened to poor mommy,” he chuckles dangerously, kicking open the bedroom door.

“And you were worried about some hickeys,” he remarks to himself; his laugh echoing throughout the house as he shuts the bedroom door.

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@1-800-bitchcraft @babypinkstyles94 @babydollcake @mega-combusken, @lathraios, @cocosfern @lunarfawns, @sojournmichael, @michaelsapostle, @langdonsdemon, @kleineshaschen, @et-tu-bitch, @whydonthumansfly, @junkful, @solitalangdon, @ultralightbeamsnstuff, @leaveittothewolves, @olobersy, @pumpkinspiceharry2, @fckinsupreme, @femaleantichrist, @peachesandfern, @bloodsuckinvampire, @freak-war-hour

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fic #michael langdon imagine #cody fern #dad!michael #ahs #my writing

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mythologyfolklore · 4 years

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Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 15

Chapter Fifteen: The Odyssey, Final Part

After turning Odysseus into an elderly and ugly beggar and letting him know, what his son was up to, Athena flew to Sparta to inform Telemakhos, that he had to return home.

Odysseus himself on the other hand wandered through the landscape, until he found the house of his swineherd. There he was attacked and nearly ripped apart by the guard dogs. Fortunately, the swineherd saw what was going on and drove the dogs away.

After inviting him into his home and giving him food and drink, they bonded over their misery and Odysseus was pleased to hear, that Eumaios (that was the swineherd's name) wished for nothing more than his true king's safe return.

The “beggar” told a fib, that he had once been a rich man from Crete, but then had been struck by fate and now had nothing, but the rags he was wearing. He also lied, that he had heard of hims- uh, the great Odysseus. Eumaios was obviously sceptical, like any sane man would have been.

Seeing, that he wouldn't convince the other, the disguised hero suggested a bet and the swineherd agreed.

Then the latter and his fellow servants slaughtered a pig, sacrificed to the gods and the local Nymphai and then shared the meat with him and among themselves.¹

Later Zeus apparently thought it would be funny to let it storm and rain all night long.

Since Odysseus had nothing but his rags, he tricked the swineherd into letting him borrow his cloak.

Then everyone lay down to sleep.

Alone Eumaios didn't stay inside the house and preferred to sleep with the pigs outside.

Odysseus noticed and his heart was warmed at this display of dutifulness and loyalty.

Meanwhile, Telemakhos was having the time of his life in Sparta at the wealthy court of Menélaos and Helene, the godlike and glorious pair.

One night, he was visited by the goddess Athena in a dream.

“It's time to go back home”, she urged, “Even her family is pressuring your mother to remarry. Return home, before it's too late and she will be forced to take a new husband. You know what always happens, when a woman remarries. And another thing: her suitors are lurking along the channel between Ithaka and Samos, plotting to murder you. Sail another way home, at night and land at a more secret spot on Ithaka. Once there, spend the rest of the night at the hut of Eumaios, but send the ship and your companions to town.”

In the morning Telemakhos and his new friend, Nestor's son Peisistratos went to Menélaos and Helene and informed them, that they wished to depart. The king and queen quickly went to prepare splendid guest presents for the young men, beautiful items of both material and personal value; despite everything, neither Menélaos nor Helene had lost any of their generosity.

“Farewell”, Menélaos spoke, “And say hello to Nestor from me. He was like a father to me too², when we were at war with the Trojans.”

The two young men promised to do so.

Right in that moment, an eagle swooped down from the sky to kill a goose in the yard, startling several servants.

Peisistratos turned to Menélaos: “What does this mean? Is this omen directed to you or to us?”

Menélaos thought hard, but it was Helene, who answered: “Allow me. I know what it means, for the King of the Skies himself is my father. It's simple: the eagle that just slew the goose is Odysseus, coming home from his wanderings. The goose stands for the insolent suitors he will vanquish. Your father, Telemakhos, will soon be home or is already there and plotting his revenge.”

“Oh, may you be right!”, Telemakhos cried, “And I shall honour you like a goddess, if so!”

They said their goodbyes and left.

First the two princes returned to Pylos and Telemakhos dropped his new friend off.

“Say hi to Nestor and give him my apologies”, he spoke, “But I can't waste any time here and need to get home quickly.”

Peisistratos grinned: “Knowing my dad, he'll insist that you stay as his guest for a few days. He's really bull-headed, you know. Doesn't take 'no' for an answer. So you better sneak away, before he notices you.”

Telemakhos grinned back, said goodbye and quickly went back aboard.

The ship was about to leave the harbour of Pylos, ere Nestor could catch them and throw a hissy fit, because they hadn't even stopped long enough to say hi, when a stranger approached Telemakhos. He introduced himself as Theoklymenos a fugitive from Argos and gifted seer and begged the prince to take him along, as he was being pursued. Telemakhos pitied the man and consented.

On their way across the sea, the gods sent them good wind and they made quick progress.

When the sun went down, Odysseus' son bid the crew to make a detour to a more remote shore of Ithaka under the veil of darkness.

Meanwhile Odysseus was sitting with Eumaios and the other men at dinner.

Still wanting to test his hospitality, he informed the swineherd that he wanted to go to town the next day to beg. Or he could go and offer his services to the suitors for just a bit of food.

Eumaios stared at him, aghast. “Are you suicidal? Those men are violent and impious and have servants of their own, young and well-dressed men with pretty faces. No, stay here, where no one is bothered by your presence. But Odysseus' son will soon come home, he will give you food and clothes. Then you can go wherever you like, just … stay away from those brutes.”

Odysseus relented, wishing that Zeus would like this serving man as much as he did.

“But tell me about Odysseus' family”, he requested, “How are they doing? Who of them is still alive and who has descended to the underworld?”

“Well …”

Laertes was still alive, but living in misery away from the palace and wasting away from grief for his late wife and missing son. The old queen had passed away from heartache.

“… As for our queen Penelope … well, we can't expect kindness from her, ever since those cursed men have invaded our home and brought nothing but bale. As much as we want to speak to her, she has enough grief as it is.”

Later Odysseus and Eumaios were tending the fire, when the former noticed the dogs running around with wagging tails.

“Someone's coming, but the dogs aren't barking”, he pointed out to Eumaios. “That must be someone you know.”

He had just finished his sentence, when a young man about twenty, with chestnut hair and sharp mossy green eyes, entered the yard. Eumaios promptly dropped everything and went to welcome him, like a father would welcome his sorely missed son. There were lots of tears from the older and kind, soothing words and smiles from the other.

Odysseus' heart almost stopped, when he recognised his own son and he really wanted to be part of that, but had to contain himself.

Oh gods, how my baby boy has grown!

“How is the situation?”, Telemakhos inquired.

“Still awful.”

“Ah, nothing has changed then. Anyway, good to see you, my friend. And may I ask, who is this guest of yours?”

Eumaios related to him what he had heard.

The prince frowned. “Oh … oh dear. I will see, what I can do. Eumaios, I think you should keep him here for now. I will bring guest gifts to him and provisions, so he won't eat you poor. I would rather not allow him to go up to my hall, where the suitors are vying for my mother's hand. Their blasphemy and impertinence knows no bounds and it would break my heart to see them mistreat and disrespect this poor fellow.”

Odysseus took the opportunity and cleared his throat: “Excuse me, if you don't mind? I already heard about the behaviour of those men. That sounds really outrageous. Why do you just let them do as they please in your father's house? If I was your age or, say, the king himself, coming home from his wanderings, I would make them pay for their impudence in blood!”

Sadly, his son told him what the problem was.

Then he asked the swineherd to go up to the palace and tell Penelope, that her son was back home and would come to see her the next day. So Eumaios did.

This was just the moment Athena had been waiting for.

She appeared to Odysseus (but not to Telemakhos) and waved at him. He understood and followed her outside. The dogs sensed her presence and all began to whimper and cower in fear.

“It's time”, Athena spoke, “for your son to know you, Odysseus. You need to begin to plot the demise of your enemies together with him. I will be near at all times, for I too thirst for battle.”

With that she stripped the illusion off of him and restored him to his younger, vigorous and noble-looking self.

“Go back”, she said, “Your son has been wanting for you long enough, don't you agree?”

Telemakhos was thunderstruck, when the stranger returned from the outside as a strong, kingly looking man in his prime.

“Did you just … shapeshift?!”, he gasped, “Zeus have mercy on me! You're a god! Oh please, show us kindness and we will give you the best sacrifices we have to offer-”

“Whoa there! Settle down!”, the other man cried, “Don't compare me to the gods, it's as blasphemous as it is embarrassing. I'm your father! The man who has been kept away from you for twenty years! I'm home!”

And embraced him tearfully.

Telemakhos' head was spinning. “W-wait! This is too good to be true! I can't believe such a crass thing! How do I know, that I'm not being deceived by a Daimon? You can't be a mere mortal, you went outside as an elderly beggar and returned as a nobleman in his prime!”

“This was the will of Pallas Athena”, the older man explained, “She cast an illusion on me to make me unrecognisable and now she has stripped it away. It is easy for the gods to beautify or deface mortals at will.”

The younger man looked the other in the eyes. Often had he heard from others (especially his mother), that he had his father's eyes. And when he looked into the other's, they were the same as his own, only sharper, older and more melancholy.

Now Telemakhos burst into tears himself, hugged back and they both cried their hearts out.

Once they calmed down, Odysseus told his son about everything that had happened to him.

Then father and son began to make plans on how to proceed further.

At the palace, Telemakhos' companions and crew arrived, at the same time as Eumaios.

They informed Penelope, that her son was home and would be joining her soon, which made the grieving queen feel significantly better.

The suitors were miffed at those news and collectively went out into the yard to plot.

Their leader Antinoos (who also was one of the biggest dicks) suggested, that since their ambush had failed, they should try again and kill him more discreetly, before he could tell anyone, that they had tried to kill him.

Right in that moment, a livid Penelope herself stepped outside.

“YOU!”, she shouted furiously at Antinoos, “You bale-smith! You insolent fool! People used to say, that you're one of the best in counsel and speech, but I have seen nothing but the opposite from you! Have you forgot, that the King of the Skies himself is witness to all supplicants? Need I remind you, how your own father came here as a fugitive? A former pirate, who had incurred the wrath of both the people of Ithaka and of our allies, the Thresprotians, for attacking them! They wanted to kill him and raid his property, but my dear Odysseus intervened. And you! All you ever do here is consume his own goods without compensation, woo his wife and now you want to murder his only son! Cease your murder plots this instant and tell the others to do the same!”

It was Eurymakhos, who intervened and assured the angered queen, that no one was seriously plotting a murder (which was a lie; the only one who wasn't plotting was Amphinomos).

Penelope gave everyone a death glare and returned to her chambers, where she cried herself to sleep.

Next morning, Telemakhos decided, that he shouldn't let his mother wait any longer and prepared return to his palace.

Eurykleia, the old first maid saw him first and ran up to welcome him home. She was quickly followed by the rest of the household staff, until Penelope herself exited her chambers to see what was going on.

Tearfully she embraced her son and welcomed him home.

“My sweet light!”, she sobbed, “I feared I would never see you again. How could you just skulk out of my house without telling me?! Now you must tell me all about your journey!”

“Later”, Telemakhos promised, “First we need to properly invite the stranger I brought along from Pylos. And I really could use a bath. As for you, freshen yourself up and go to the house altar with the maids. Pray to the gods and promise them the best sacrifices we can give them, if Zeus will grant us retribution at last.”

Penelope did so.

When the young man came out refreshed, Athena made him more handsome than he already was, so that everyone who saw him stopped to marvel at his stateliness.

Maybe I should add 'Goddess of beauty' to my domains, she thought drily. Aphrodite's face would be absolutely priceless!

The young prince ignored the empty wheedling of the suitors and sat with his father's old companions, who asked him about everything that had occurred to him.

Later he finally reported to his mother what he had learned on his trip.

At that opportunity, his guest Theoklymenos approached Penelope and proclaimed, that Odysseus was already home and would soon end the wrong-doings of the suitors. Penelope didn't believe him, but still promised him riches, if his word came true.

In the meantime Odysseus (again disguised as a beggar) and Eumaios were going into town.

On the way they met the goatherd Melantheus, who immediately began to mock the two.

Eumaios scowled: “If Odysseus was here, he would shut your mouth!”

“Hah!”, Melantheus barked, “This will never happen! Your Odysseus is dead and will never return! And I hope that Telemakhos will soon be dead too!” The goatherd cackled and left.

Odysseus' blood was boiling, but he had to contain himself.

The two continued on their way.

As they came near to the royal palace, someone noticed them: Argos, Odysseus' faithful dog.

Twenty years before, the king had tamed him to be his hunting dog, but hadn't got to take delight him him, as he had been torn away from home. A long time ago, Argos had been well cared for and a stately dog, but these days he lay in a corner, neglected and plagued by ticks and fleas.

As soon as he heard the voice of Odysseus, he weakly lifted his head and ears.

Recognising his master, Argos happily wagged his tail, but was too weak to approach.

Odysseus saw his faithful pet and wanted to cry.

But he blinked away his tears and instead asked Eumaios: “Why is that poor dog lying there beside the dung heap? He must have been such a fine and good pet once. Was he a swift hunting dog, or was his owner just keeping him for luxury?”

“The former”, the swineherd answered sadly, “And if he was still in the same shape as he was, when our lord departed for Troy, you would be dazzled by his speed and strength. He was the best hunting dog a man could have. But now, that his master is away, the faithless servants neglect him.”

Odysseus' heart shattered, but he couldn't show it.

But Argos, having seen his master again after twenty years, finally passed on.

Seeing, that his faithful companion was no more, Odysseus swallowed his tears and continued on his way with Eumaios, hating that he couldn't grieve for his good boy openly.

They had just snuck into the hall and Telemakhos had given Odysseus some food.

After eating that, Athena advised him to beg the suitors for mild alms, just to see who had a modicum of decency.

He did so and most were pitying enough to give him some food.

But when Melantheus, the rude goatherd from earlier, told them that the swineherd had brought the beggar here, Antinoos verbally attacked poor Eumaios for his “impertinence” in bringing another freeloader here (which was hilarious, since the suitors were all freeloaders).

Eumaios was visibly upset, but kept his composure.

Telemakhos came to his aid. “Leave him alone”, he snapped at Antinoos, “And the stranger too! Really and that wants to be the future husband of my mother! Give him alms – it's the duty of the rich to the poor.”

Antinoos made a snappish retort and went back to his own meal, without complying.

The others had no objection to giving just a bit of food each of them; after all their meal was abundant.

But when the hero politely asked Antinoos for just a crumb of bread and the other just insulted him, Odysseus reproached his disrespect and unkindness. This made the suitor so angry, that he threw a chair at the older man. He didn't even stagger, but his anger grew and grew, though he still contained himself.

Even the other suitors were indignant at this and they chewed him out; after all everyone knew that sometimes the gods themselves came down from the heavens as lowly travellers to test the righteousness and hospitality of mortals.

Yet their irritation was nothing compared to the anger of Telemakhos, Penelope and some of the maids, who collectively wished to see this disrespectful prick dead.

The hero in disguise meanwhile sat in a corner and ate what he had been given.

Later Iros, another beggar from the city came to ask for food.

When he saw the older man sitting by the door, he told him to go away.

Odysseus glared and refused, saying there was enough for both of them.

Then the two beggars got into an argument.

The amused suitors suggested a fight and the winner would receive one of the big goat stomachs that were roasting above the fire.

The younger beggar had confidence in his youth, while Odysseus just considered, whether he should kill the other with one blow or just break his bones.

He decided on the latter, royally kicked the other's arse and dragged him out of the hall.

Impressed by the show and by his fighting prowess, the other men awarded him the promised goat stomach.

One of the friendlier ones, a young man named Amphinomos, toasted to him and wished him good fortune. Odysseus found this endearing and warned the younger to watch his back. This made Amphinomos so uncomfortable, that he spent the rest of the night brooding about it.

Not that it was of any use; his fate was already decided by the gods.

Soon after, Penelope came outside to speak to her suitors.

Athena had done her thing again and restored her to the full flower of her youth, while she had been asleep, so the suitors would be so captivated by her beauty as to cater to her every whim.

And indeed, they were struck by desire and began to ooh and aah, when they saw the woman they were wooing step into the room, albeit her face was veiled, as usual when she left her chambers.

Penelope whoever first said to her son: “Really, my son, you were more sensible when you were younger. How could you just stand by as these men here abused the poor stranger so terribly and disgracefully?”

“Your anger is completely understandable”, Telemakhos responded, “However, you must remember, that it would have been me against all of them. I have no helper here, there was nothing I could have done. All we can do is pray to Father Zeus, Pallas Athena and Phoibos Apollon, that these brutes will suffer a fate like Iros or worse.”

Thus they spoke to each other, until Eurymakhos approached them, another really unpleasant individual among the suitors.

“Oh shrewd daughter of Ikarios, if everyone saw you now!”, he cried, “You would have a lot more suitors in your hall by tomorrow, for you're the first of women in beauty, growth and mind.”

“I'm not nearly as beautiful as I once was”, Penelope replied, “My beauty and growth have been diminished by grief for the awesome hero, whom the gods took away from me. If he came back to me, my happiness alone would restore my beauty, but now I waste away without him by the will of the cruel Moirai. Before he left, he entrusted his states into my care, that I would watch over them and over his dear parents and that, once our son has grown into a man, I should leave the house and remarry, if I wanted to. That dreaded day is nigh and I will be forced to agree to the remarriage I loathe so. Your conduct causes me additional pain; never has there been such usage among suitors! Any honest men wooing and competing for a wealthy woman would bring life stock of their own to eat and rich gifts for the bride's family – instead of consuming the goods of another without any compensation.”

This prompted the men to send their servants to fetch precious gifts from their own quarters.

Penelope accepted them and retreated to her chambers, while her maids carried the valuables after her.

Odysseus' heart swelled with pride at how his dear wife had beguiled these men into showering her with gifts.

That's my wife!

In the evening, after Odysseus had endured more abuse from some of the worse suitors, Telemakhos had finally ordered them all to go to bed and sleep off their rush.

Finally alone, he and his son began to put their own murder plot into motion, first by hiding the armour and weapons of the suitors.

When Athena conjured a golden light to lead the way in the dark corridor, Telemakhos became aware of her presence and ooh-ed and aah-ed.

His father shushed him, saying that now was not the time to question anything and that this was simply the way of the Immortals, to stand by the mortals they liked, while remaining unseen.

Once they had hidden all the weaponry, Telemakhos went to sleep.

Alone again, he continued to hold counsel with Athena, until Penelope entered with some of her maids.

While the servants tidied up the mess the suitors had made earlier, one of the young girls insulted Odysseus for no reason. He just got to make a warning retort, before the queen herself interfered.

“Enough! Don't think that I don't notice your perpetually outrageous behaviour! Now shoo! For as you all know, I wish to talk to this man.”

The first maid brought a chair for Odysseus and all servants saw themselves out.

Once they were alone, Penelope addressed him: “So, won't you tell me, who you are, who your parents are and where you come from?”

“I will tell you everything”, Odysseus said, “except for that; my story is very depressing and will just make us both more miserable. I don't want to anger anyone by bawling inside your home, like a sad drunk.”

“I can't become more miserable than I already am”, Penelope returned and told him of her own misfortune.

For many years, she had been waiting for her husband to come home. After sixteen years, everyone apparently had decided, that she was now a widow – even though there was no proof he was dead – and men from Ithaka and the surrounding islands had come to woo for her unwilling hand.

She had claimed, that she needed to weave a fine burial shroud for her father-in-law. They had relented to give her the time to finish it. So she had weaved by day, but each night she had loosened the threads, so she'd had to start anew. This trick had worked for three years, until some treacherous maids had caught her and ratted her out to the suitors.

“Now I'm running out of excuses, my parents are pressuring me to remarry and my son is sick of these men consuming his property. I'm at the end of my wits. Even so, tell me your story.”

Odysseus yielded and served her the same made-up tragic life story he had told everyone, who had asked. He also claimed that he had met hims- uhh, the great hero Odysseus and hosted him for a few weeks, before sailing on to Troy.

This made Penelope burst into tears and wail for her husband, who was sitting in front of her, but she didn't know.

He really wanted nothing more than to hug her and never let her go, but he still needed to keep his act up.

“Just to be sure”, the poor woman sniffled, “Describe him to me. Just as you remember him.”

Odysseus frowned: “Oh dear … this will be tough, after all it was twenty years ago! Let's see …”

And described in great detail the very attire he had worn on the day he had sailed from Ithaka.

She cried harder, recalling that she had made the clothes for him.

After calming down, she accepted his tale.

He promised her, that her husband – ahem, was already here, ahem – would soon be coming home.

She didn't buy it, but ordered for someone to wash his feet.

The one chosen for this task was an elderly servant, whom Odysseus recognised as his nurse.

Eurykleia noted that he resembled her missing king.

“I used to hear that a lot”, he told her, “That he and I looked similar.”

She filled a basin with water and he scooted away from the fire into the shadows, fearing that she would recognise him.

As the old woman was washing his feet, her fingers brushed over the scar on his thigh.

She froze and old memories flooded her mind …

Antikleia had just given birth to her and Laertes' child.

The nurse was holding the screaming baby in her lap.

Suddenly the door opened and in came the mother's father: Autolykos, son of Hermes and a shapeshifting thief.

His teal-coloured eyes skimmed over the scene and he smiled.

Eurykleia lifted the baby from her lap and handed him to his grandfather.

“Come and say hello your grandson”, she invited him.

As soon as the baby boy sat on his grandfather's knee, he stopped wailing and stretched out his arms.

Autolykos laughed and held his finger out for those tiny hands to hold.

The nurse's smile broadened at the sight and after exchanging a glance with the proud parents, she asked the old man: “Do you want to pick a name for your grandchild?”

The demigod thought for a moment: “Hm … I was wroth at the world, when I came here. Give him the name I tell you: 'Odysseus', 'The Wrathful One'. For his life will be a hard, but glorious one. When he comes to age, send him up to my own property. For I have many presents I want to give to my grandson, when he becomes a man.”

When Odysseus grew to age, his parents sent him to visit his grandfather and uncles.

They welcomed him happily.

Later the day, he and his uncles went out to hunt, but he was attacked by a boar. He managed to kill it, only after the beast's tusks dug into his thigh, ripping away a chunk of his flesh.

His uncles took care of the wound and carried him and their spoils back to their father's home.

Autolykos healed his grandson and sent him back home to his parents with lots of presents.

There Odysseus told everyone how he had got that scar, which later on became one of his trademark features.

Eurykleia burst into tears and sobs: “It's you! You're Odysseus, my dear child! And I didn't even recognise you, before I touched your scar! You're back!”

In her joy she wanted to go and tell Penelope the good news, but Odysseus grabbed her.

“Not a word!”, he hissed, “Do you want to get me killed?! Keep your mouth shut! For if a god vanquishes the suitors through me, I will spare no one, not even you, my nurse.”

Eurykleia smiled crookedly, completely unfazed by the fact, that her master was gripping her by the neck. But she promised to remain silent.

“When you have defeated them”, she whispered, “Shall I tell you the names of the disloyal household members?”

“No need, I'll spot them on my own”, he declined.

She went to get new water and finished washing and salving his feet.

Odysseus scooted closer to the fire again to warm himself and concealed the scar with his rags.

Penelope, who had been distracted the entire time, continued their conversation from earlier.

“Before we go to bed, there are a few more things I want to ask you. Your words and behaviour have shown that you're a witty and clever man, so I would be obliged, if you could interpret this dream for me: I was standing in my yard and geese were picking up grain from the ground, when an eagle swooped down from the sky and killed all of them. I wept for the loss, when suddenly the eagle began to talk! He told me, that he was my beloved Odysseus, that the geese were my suitors and that he would be coming home soon to smite them all. Then I woke up. What does it mean?”

“Exactly as Odysseus told you”, the hero replied, “What you saw was the near future. He will come home and kill them all. It's as simple as that.”

Not quite that simple, but whatever.

“I don't know”, Penelope said doubtfully, “But I have an idea: tomorrow I will hold a competition. My husband has an extremely strong recurved bow that so far only he has been able to string. I will put up twelve axes with hollow heads and only a man equal to my husband will be able to string the bow and shoot an arrow through the twelve axe heads.”

I'm so in love with this woman!

“That's an amazing idea!”, Odysseus praised her. “Waste no time in holding the competition. But now it's time to sleep; soon it will be morning.”

She bid him good night and went to bed.

As he lay down near the fire, he noticed some of the maidservants sneaking out of their rooms into the suitor's quarters. He fumed with anger, but swallowed it – he had seen so many more outrageous things after all.

Right as he had finished that thought, he heard Athena's voice.

“Why are you still awake?”, she questioned, “Does it not soothe you to come back to see your wife still being so faithful to you after all these years? And that your child has grown into the best son a man could wish for?”

“You're right”, he agreed, “But I have worries – I don't think I can stand against so many suitors all by myself. And if I do, what will happen hereafter? Many will be angered at the murder of the entire noble population of my kingdom and those around.”

He heard her huff in frustration, before she began to scold him: “Alright, Odysseus, listen up! First off, where is your courage? Have you left it behind in Troy?! Secondly, have you forgot, that I'm always looking out for you? Many other men trust lesser companions than a god and you're still so doubtful? With me by your side, Odysseus, you could defeat hundreds of men – you did back in the Trojan War, just as Diomedes and Menélaos did. You know that. Mark my words, son of Laertes: in the morning you, your son and I will slaughter those many foes and leave none of them alive. As for the aftermath, leave that to me. Now sleep, for you need to rest before the fight tomorrow.”

Then he felt an irresistible exhaustion, as the great goddess put a deep slumber onto him.

Soon rosy-fingered Êôs brought the dawn.

Odysseus was woken up by the sound of his dear wife weeping.

Distraught by the sound and still nervous because of what was to come, he prayed for a sign from Zeus.

The King of the Skies heard and let it thunder.

In the yard, several women grinding corn to flour heard it and began to murmur. When Odysseus heard them wish, that today would be the last meal for the suitors, his heart was glad.

Soon Eurykleia shooed the maids out of their beds.

“Today is a day of celebration!”, she announced, “So off to work with you all! You know your tasks.”

The maids, significantly more awake at the news, hurried to do as told.

As they were scurrying around, the suitors swaggered him, some more hungover than the others and all rather grumpy at being woken up so early.

They were followed by Eumaios, who drove several fat pigs into the kitchen, before joining Odysseus in his spot beside the fire.

“Are they still disrespectful to you?”, he inquired.

The disguised hero scowled: “Yes and I wish they were dead.”

“Most here do”, the swineherd muttered.

As they were sticking their heads together, the goatherd Melantheus passed by.

“Are you still here, beggar? Fuck off and bother someone else!”, he snapped at Odysseus.

The latter didn't reply, just silently plotted the other's demise.

The rude goatherd was followed by another man, Philoitos, the local cattle herd.

“Sorry for that”, he apologised for the other, “He may officially be the goatherd, but his actual profession is being a prick. Greetings, good stranger! May you have better fortune in the future, though you live in misery right now. Gods, you look just like I remember our true lord Odysseus! I could tell from the very moment I saw you. Perhaps he suffers the same fate as you and has to wander the earth, ragged and begging for his bread. Meanwhile I am forced to drive the cattle he entrusted to me back then to this house for invaders to eat. Oh, if only he would finally come home and kill them all!”

Oh thank Athena, another ally!

Odysseus promised him and Eumaios, that what they were praying for would happen soon.

At the same time the suitors were still plotting how to discreetly murder Telemakhos, when they saw an eagle carrying a dove in its talons.

“It's not going to work”, Amphinomos spoke up, “Let's have breakfast instead.”

So they did.

After breakfast, they gathered at the shrine of Apollon to sacrifice to him and the gods, before eating the rest.

Apollon meanwhile was glaring down onto the scene.

“Get the fuck out of my sanctuary, you putrid scum!”, he snarled, “Get out! I'm not granting your worthless prayers!”

Zeus patted his son's shoulder. “There, there. They'll be dead soon.”

“I know, father”, the younger grumbled.

In Odysseus' palace, the king in disguise had grown even angrier than he already was, as Athena had warped the sanity of the suitors to rile him up more.

This didn't go completely unnoticed by Theoklymenos, the seer from Argos. He felt the presence of the war goddess and observed the nasty scene.

The suitors' faces distorted strangely, they were laughing unnaturally, while crying at the same time, the meat they were eating was bloody and they somehow sensed coming bale.

But when the prophet told them of what he was seeing, he got laughed at.

“The man is insane!”, Eurymakhos claimed, “Perhaps we should accompany him to the market place, since he sees only darkness here!”

“No thank you”, Theoklymenos replied nonchalantly, “I have functioning eyes, ears and feet and a perfectly sound mind. With their help, I'll leave this house now, for I see nothing but bale for you all, who commit outrage in Odysseus' house and disrespect everyone here. Farewell.”

Then he walked out like a boss.

While all this was happening, Penelope had gone into her husband's armoury to get his strongest bow, arrows and twelve axes.

She set the weapons up, gathered the suitors and proclaimed: “Alright, you freeloaders who had no other excuse than that you want to seek my hand in marriage! It's time that you earn it! Here I have my husband's strongest bow. The one of you, who strings this bow most easily and use it to shoot an arrow through all twelve axe heads, will win my hand.”

Eumaios and Philoitos wept, when they saw their lord's bow, but were mocked by Antinoos.

Latter hoped to be the one to win the competition – little did he know, that he would be the first to die by that bow and arrows.

But it was Telemakhos, who came forward first. “Let me try first, if I'm yet capable of wielding my father's priced weapon”, he requested and it was granted.

He readied the bow and tried to string it three times. But just as he was about to succeed, Odysseus gestured for him to stop now. Pretending to be disappointed, he stepped back.

One by one, the suitors attempted and failed to string the bow of cunning Odysseus and sat back down with huge dents in their pride.

While they were making fools of themselves, Odysseus and the cattle- and swineherd had left the room for a little.

“Tell me, you two, the truth and nothing but: if Odysseus now came home to reclaim his property, would you follow him or the suitors?”

“Odysseus!”, they responded in unison.

He smiled. “Good, because he's already here! It's me! After twenty years and many a misadventure, I'm finally home. And I see that of all my servants only you two and Eurykleia truly longed for my return; I heard none of the others pray for me to come home. But you shall know the truth: once I have vanquished the suitors, you two shall be rewarded with riches and a wife. You will be friends to my son and me. And should you be in doubt; see this scar on my thigh, done to me by the tusk of a boar, when I was hunting with my uncles on Mount Parnassos.”

They saw the treacherous scar, gasped in shock and tearfully hugged their rightful king.

“Now, now”, Odysseus stopped them after a while. “I'm afraid we need to postpone the happy reunion to later. Now you need to do exactly as I say: when we go back inside, I will ask to have a turn with the bow. They will refuse me, but you, Eumaios, give it to me anyway and then go to tell the women to go to their quarters and stay there, no matter what. You, Philoitos, go and lock the doors to the yard.”

Then the three snuck back inside.

There Eurymakhos was currently trying to string the bow. After a while he gave up, complaining loudly about how humiliating it was, that no one could even string the bow of godlike Odysseus.

“Eh, who cares”, Antinoos responded, “Who wants to string bows today anyway, it's the holiday of Zeus! Let's let everything lie and try again tomorrow.”

He sounded like a huffy child.

This is priceless!, Odysseus thought and smirked for a second.

Just as they had put away the bow and its string, the war veteran requested, that – just for the heck of it – he could have a shot at it (pun intended).

He met with much protest from the suitors, but Telemakhos and Penelope scolded them.

“Don't be stupid!”, Penelope snapped at Antinoos, “It's not like this homeless man, who isn't even competing for my hand, is going to take me home as his wife, even if he manages to string the bow – unlike you all. Leave him alone.”

“That he should marry you isn't our greatest concern”, Eurymakhos explained, “But we will become a collective laughing stock, when the people find out, that we failed to string your dead husband's bow, only to lose out to a beggar.”

“That's coming from you?”, Penelope retorted, “Your behaviour alone is a humiliation, that you intrude into another's home and waste wealth that isn't yours! Never once have you all acted like honest men! Furthermore, this man is well-built and prides himself in being a great man's son. If Apollon grants him victory, I will shower him with many gifts, so he may go on his way – and there is nothing you all can do about it!”

Telemakhos agreed, yet surprised his mother by sending her to her own quarters.

As Penelope left the room, Eumaios picked up the bow, handed it to Odysseus and then went to Eurykleia to instruct her as his king had told him earlier.

Philoitos skulked away to do his part of the plan and lock all the doors to the yard.

Odysseus took the bow and strung it with ease. As he tested the sinewy string, it vibrated musically under his fingers, like it was supposed to.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the suitors blanch. And they grew even paler, when he took an arrow and shot it through the twelve axes.

In that moment, it thundered.

He ripped his rags off, turned to his son and smirked: “Now, how about we serve these noblemen a supper like they've never had before?”

Telemakhos smirked back and pulled out his sword.

The first arrow hit Antinoos in the jugular, right as he was raising his cup.

The others jumped up, screaming reproaches at Odysseus.

But the hero growled darkly: “You dogs thought I would never return from Troy, did you? You plundered my property, had your way with my maids and wooed my wife, while I was still alive, but now you're going to pay!”

Eurymakhos tried to reason and promised rich compensation, but the answer was another death threat. So he spurred the other suitors on and they chose to fight, only to be felled by Odysseus' arrow.

Amphinomos attacked, but was slain by Telemakhos.

“Let me get you armour and more weapons”, he offered and his father urged him to do so, before he ran out of arrows. Telemakhos returned with a full armour and Odysseus put it on, once he ran out of ammunition.

One of the suitors sent Melantheus to fetch arms for the suitors. But the goatherd was soon spotted by Eumaios and Philoitos, who proceeded to bind him and tie him to a pole, before arming themselves and returning to fight by the side of their king and prince.

It was at that moment, that Athena came down, again in the guise of Mentor.

He obviously recognised her and asked for her help, while the suitors, who didn't recognise her, screamed for her to do the exact opposite.

This angered her and she spurred the war veteran on.

But before she would grant him a devastating victory, she wanted to feast her eyes on his battle prowess.

So rather than fighting along, she diverted the spears the suitors threw, while those of the four defenders hit their marks without fail.

After all four of them (she couldn't help but be surprised at the prowess of the cowherd and the swineherd) had slain about a dozen more suitors, she finally interfered for real.

She flew up to the ceiling and raised up the terrible Aigis.

The suitors froze in fear.

That just made it easier for Odysseus and his companions, who came upon them like birds of prey.

From here the suitors were massacred without mercy.

Only two men were spared at the request of Telemakhos: the singer Phemos and the herald Medon, who had both been made to serve the suitors against their will.

The two men were sent out and Odysseus looked around to check, if any of the suitors were still alive. But he and his son and comrades had slain them all.

Athena, having done her part for now, left.

“Go and get Eurykleia, my son”, Odysseus asked his son, “I need to talk to her.”

Telemakhos nodded and came back with the old nurse. When she saw her lord stand amidst all the corpses, like a lion or a wolf, she rejoiced.

But Odysseus shushed her. “Rejoice on the inside, old mother. It's not appropriate to cheer over slain men. I defeated them only, because the gods willed it so, for they showed no respect or reverence, while they were still alive. But now tell me, which of the maids are treacherous and which are innocent.”

“Of the fifty women who served your family, twelve betrayed them”, Eurykleia reported, “But now I will go upstairs and tell your wife, that-”

“Not yet”, Odysseus forbade. “First bring the traitors, so I may judge them. As for you three” – he turned to his son and the cow- and swineherd – “You can start carrying the bodies outside. Order the women to do the same and clean up the mess afterwards.”

This happened and once everything was clean and tidy, the guilty maidservants were driven into the yard and hung high.

Odysseus purified the halls with brimstone and Eurykleia called the remaining maids.

With tears of happiness, they embraced their king and welcomed him home.

And he also wept with joy, as he recognised them all.

Good Eurykleia ran upstairs to the chambers of Penelope as fast as her age allowed.

There she woke the sleeping queen: “Wake up, wake up, my dear child! Go downstairs, so you may see what you have been longing for for twenty years! Our lord, your Odysseus, he is finally home! He has destroyed the insolent suitors and he is back!”

Penelope glared weakly: “Have you woken me up, just so you could mock me? Have you gone mad, that you tell me such cruel things? I know it in my heart, my Odysseus is gone and will never come back to me.”

“I'm not mocking you, dear, I promise! He has been here for days now: it was the stranger the suitors always offended! Telemakhos knew the entire time, but kept it to himself, until all of the suitors were defeated!”

Now the queen leapt from her bed and tearfully hugged the older woman.

“Tell me all!”, she pressed, “The truth and nothing but the truth! How is it possible, that he alone defeated so many?”

Of course Eurykleia hadn't seen any of it; she had been in the servants' quarters with the other maids. But she told her queen what she knew.

Penelope was still in doubt though: “I don't believe it. It's too good to be true! Surely it was a god, who smote them all for their disrespect.”

“No, no! Listen; he has the scar on his thigh – the one he received, when a boar attacked him, while he was hunting with the sons of Autolykos. It's really him, I promise! If what I say is untrue, you may have me executed!”

The queen – wary as she was – still refused to believe her, but followed her downstairs anyway. Though Eurykleia could see that (deep down), the younger woman was hoping, even though she refused to act on it.

When they came into the great hall, Penelope saw Odysseus leaning against a pillar, waiting for whatever she would say upon seeing her husband.

But Penelope seemed dazed, almost numb even.

Telemakhos was frustrated by this and chided his mother: “What's with you? Why aren't you sitting with your husband and questioning him? Did you wait twenty years for him to come home, only to see him and just stand there and not even say anything? Has your heart turned to stone?!”

“No, no, I'm just stunned”, Penelope clarified, “My heart is so paralysed, that I can't bring myself to question him or even look him in the eye. But if he's really my Odysseus, I will find out myself.”

Odysseus chuckled: “Give your mother some time to let it sink in. Let her test me to her heart's content. She doesn't recognise me, because I'm looking so dirty and messy right now. But my son, we have some urgent matters to discuss. Don't forget, that we just killed the entire nobility of my kingdom and have to deal with the consequences.”

“Well, it's said that no mortal man can rival your cunning”, Telemakhos replied, “So, do you have a plan? Whatever it is, we'll follow you.”

“Good. And I do have a plan: order everyone to decorate the place, put on their best clothes and celebrate loudly, so that anyone who passes by might think that a wedding is taking place here. This ought to buy us some time, because no one must learn of the earlier massacre, before we have been to my property in the country and prayed to the gods, that they might give us a sign on how to proceed from there.”

The household staff did so and indeed, everyone outside thought, that Penelope had now chosen to marry one of her suitors.

Later that evening, Eurykleia drew a bath for Odysseus, salved him with olive oil and gave him fresh clothes and it seemed a god had made him look taller and more splendid.³

When he was all freshened up, he returned to where he had sat before.

“Still not looking at your husband?”, he asked Penelope, “Have I endured twenty years of hardship, only to come home to a wife, who ignores me and holds me in low regard?”

Penelope didn't answer, which frustrated everyone.

“Well then”, the king huffed, “Eurykleia, make me a bed somewhere, since I'll sleep alone tonight, apparently.”

Now Penelope finally spoke again: “I don't hold you in low regard at all, strange man. Eurykleia, go and make his bed in front of the bedchamber that he himself crafted a long time ago.”

Now she was testing, the old nurse could tell.

“What?!”, Odysseus exclaimed suddenly, “What is it that I have to hear? Only a god would be able to relocate my bed at all! I crafted the bedchamber around the huge olive tree, that was growing in the yard back then, and carved the bed with its wood, adorning it with ivory, gold and silver! It's impossible that anyone relocated it, let alone could push it through the door!”

But only Odysseus could know this and that was the irrefutable proof.

Now she burst into tears, embraced her husband and showered him with kisses. Odysseus cried also and held his wife tightly.

All the while Eurykleia was sobbing in the background, because now everything would be fine.

Athena smiled onto the scene.

Having done that part of her work, she saw herself out and went to persuade Êôs to postpone her tour across the sky for a few hours.

Her mortal friend and his beloved wife should have enough time to our their hearts out to each other and to get a little rest before the trouble that was to come soon.

Hermes laughed at the souls of the suitors, when he came to guide them to the underworld.

“I don't know, what you expected!”, he cackled, “Odysseus is my great-grandson! Whatever made you believe, that you could take what was his without consequence? Or that you could disrespect the laws of gods and men and get away with it? How could you think that we wouldn't favour him? Well, either way you got what you deserved!”

The souls whispered among themselves; they probably would have grumbled, but the dead had faint voices.

The Messenger of the Gods lead them to the underworld, snickering all the while.

As they came to the underworld, Hermes found some of the heroes of the Trojan War skulking around.

He lead the newcomers to the dock of Kharon and the ferryman began to take the first of them down the river (apparently they had been granted the tiny mercy of getting a coin for Kharon).

When they had arrived on the other side, the Achaeans were chatting among each other.

“What happened to you?”, Akhilleus asked Agamemnon, “I always was under the impression that Zeus liked you? So how come you died a miserable death, rather than getting a burial fit for a king?”

“You're lucky, that you died a glorious death at Troy”, Agamemnon replied, sullen. “You got a splendid burial befitting a great hero like you were.”

Then he proceeded to tell Akhilleus all about it, which was rather boring for some (including Hermes, who chose to leave them behind to visit Hades and Persephone).

“Even in death you were honoured above all others!”, Agamemnon finished his account of the other's burial, only to start wallowing in self-pity.

“And me? What did I get for surviving the war?! Get this! I just got home from Troy, when I was murdered by my cousin Aigisthos and my slut of a wife!”

“Oh, that's so tragic!”, Akhilleus replied sarcastically.

Agamemnon ignored him and let his eyes wander over the newcomers, until he spied a familiar face.

“Hey! I know you! You're one of Menélaos' bastard sons! What happened to you?”

“Odysseus happened!”, Amphimedon groaned, “To all of us here!”

Then he proceeded to tell his uncle all about how they had wooed Penelope, how she had put them off for four years, tricking them and of how Odysseus had finally come home and killed them all.

“Damn!”, Agamemnon exclaimed, “Odysseus, you lucky man! You got one of the few good women in this world for your wife! The world will forever praise her loyalty! Unlike the daughters of Tyndareus and most other women, who are fucking disloyal whores-”

“Hey!”, Akhilleus barked, “Take your unmanly misogyny and shove it up your arse! No one cares about your unjustified grudge on your wife, whose innocent daughter you tried to sacrifice to the gods, who hate human sacrifice!”

Meanwhile Odysseus and Telemakhos had arrived at the home of Laertes, Odysseus' father.

“You and the servants go and prepare a boar for our meal”, Odysseus told his son, “I will see, if my father still recognises me.”

Then he went into the garden, where he found his old father tend to the plants.

Laertes looked so miserable and neglected, that Odysseus hid behind a pear tree and wept.

Once he had regained his composure, he approached the old man and addressed him: “Greetings, good man. You certainly are a talented gardener; none of the plants here look anything but splendid. I wish the same could be same for you. Please do not be angry, but you look awful. So, who are you and whose garden is this? Also, could you tell me, if it's really Ithaka I have come to? I have been marooned, so I'm not sure.”

Yes, he was about to weave more false identities.

“I met a man from Ithaka once and he boasted to be Odysseus, the son of Laertes. I hosted him, gave him many guest gifts and then he went on his way.”

Laertes looked up and responded: “This is indeed Ithaka, stranger. But Odysseus isn't here – instead bad and godless men are holding sway over this land. You poor man gave him presents in vain – if he was here and alive, he would gladly repay you in kind, as it's the custom. But he's gone, he'll never return …” He choked and cleared his throat. “But who are you and where do you come from? How much time has passed, since you welcomed Odysseus in your home?”

“My name is Eperitas, I come from Alybas”, the younger man lied, “And he came to my home five years ago. Oh, the poor man! And the omens seemed so promising, when he departed! He was so glad and eager to get home!”

Laertes broke into pitiful wailing, grabbed a fistful of ash and threw it onto his head.

Odysseus' heart broke and he hugged the other. “My dear father, it's me! Cry no longer, I'm not dead! I'm home! I have slain those who wooed my wife and ended their outrage!”

Laertes stared at the other. “What … is it really you?! Give me a sign, before I believe you!”

The younger man pulled up his chiton to reveal the scar on his thigh.

“Do you remember, when I grew to age and you sent me to my grandfather Autolykos and his sons, so that I might receive the gifts he had prepared for me? How I returned to you with the presents and this scar I got when I went hunting with my uncles and was attacked by a boar? And here another sign: when I was a child, you gave me many fruit trees: ten apple trees, thirteen pear trees, forty fig trees and hundred stocks of wine. And you promised me, that they all would carry heavy fruit and bring bountiful harvest. Do you believe me now?”

Laertes cried out in happiness and embraced his son tightly.

Then he fainted.

When he awoke, he found himself in his son's arms and cried some more, before taking a deep breath and calming himself.

“My dear and only son, I'm so happy! The justice of the gods still exists in this world, that you defeated all of the foes in your own home! But what shall we do now? You killed the entire noble population, the people will riot.”

“Don't worry about that yet”, Odysseus told him gently. “First let's go inside. We'll get you fresh clothes and a bath, also lunch will soon be ready.”

Inside the house Telemakhos and the two animal husbandmen were busy cutting the pork and mixing wine.

A maid drew a bath for Laertes and gave him good clothes.

When the former king came before his son and grandson, they marvelled.

“You look so much more gracious now”, Odysseus marked, “A god gave you splendour and made you taller, just like the Bright-eyed Goddess did for me!”

“Certainly”, the old man agreed, “But I wish they would have granted me the even bigger pleasure of being there yesterday to stand by you, when you fought off the suitors! You would have seen, that I still am capable of fighting!”

Odysseus almost chuckled at his father's zeal, but didn't want to seem condescending or doubtful.

When the two former heroes came into the dining halls, the servants ooh'd and aah'd, as they recognised their king.

“You can marvel later”, he told them, “It's time for lunch, as we're all hungry. Do sit with us! There is enough for all!”

Now the staff cheered and they all gave the long-lost ruler a warm welcome.

Unfortunately, while they were having lunch, Ossa, goddess of rumour, flew through the city and soon everyone had heard about the gruesome demise of the suitors.

Their relatives came to the palace to pick up the dead and bury them.

When they had done their work, Eupeithes, the father of Antinoos, rallied the people and riled them up.

“This man truly has done great wrong to us!”, he shouted, “Twenty years ago he took away many ships to Troy, only to return ten years too late and all alone. And now he has slaughtered all our children! Up, that we may avenge this misdeed done to our sons!”

But before the crowd could respond, Phemos the singer and Medon the herald, stepped forward.

“People of Ithaka! Odysseus did not act without the approval of the gods!”, Medon declared, “I myself saw a deity at the king's side and it was none other than the bright-eyed daughter of Zeus! She was wearing the guise of Mentor, but I saw her for who she was. She fought by his side, by instilling fear into the suitors and by giving him courage and strength. He had the favour of the gods and he was in the right. What happened was the will of Zeus.”

His words made the listeners shudder in fear.

Now another man rose to speak, Halitherses the prophet. “Hear me, men of Ithaka! It's because of your cowardice, that you are now burying your children! For you listened to neither me nor to Mentor, when we bid you to stop your sons' outrageous behaviour. You didn't stop them, when they committed blasphemous acts, harassed the wife of the best of men and wasted away his own property, believing he would never come home and make them face the consequences! So listen to my counsel for once in your lives: stay here, before a self-imposed doom meets you all!”

Half of the men screamed in protest at this suggestion, while the others heeded the prophet's words.

The crowd divided into two groups.

Eupeithes lead those who agreed with him into the country – thinking, that he would avenge his son, unaware, that he was on his way to meet his fate.

On Olympos Athena saw what was going on and went to her father to report.

“What is your plan, father?”, she wanted to know, “Will you cause more bloody conflict or shall there be peace?”

Zeus laughed: “My child, hasn't it been your plan all along, that your mortal friend should get home, take revenge on the suitors and reclaim his kingdom? Do as you please, but my will is this: now that Odysseus has avenged himself, let there be peace and companionship. Let the murder of their sons and brothers be forgotten. Let there be harmony among the people, companionship and bountiful harvest, as it was before.”

With gladdened heart Athena descended from Olympos to earth.

In the country estate, one of the servants looked out of the window, only to turn back to Odysseus, frowning.

“My king, I'm afraid we have company.”

He pointed to a nearby hill, where Eupeithes and his allies were already seen.

Quickly everyone leapt up from the table to don their armour and weapons.

As they were arming themselves, Athena joined them, again in the guise of Mentor.

Odysseus understood immediately and said to his son, grinning: “Now, my son, I will show you how it's done. You shall see how your father earned his glory in battle as well as in strategy.”

Telemakhos grinned back at him. “Father, you will see, that I'm not a coward and you won't be ashamed of my bravery in battle.”

“My son and my grandson competing in fighting prowess and bravery!”, Laertes rejoiced, “This is the best day of my life!”

“Mentor” smiled at the former hero and said: “Come, Laertes my old friend. You too should arm yourself and make a prayer to Zeus and the Bright-eyed Virgin.”

Then Athena breathed powerful valour into him.

With renewed strength and vigour, Laertes grabbed a spear and threw it right into the face of Eupeithes, where the helmet wasn't shielding it.

Meanwhile his son and grandson burst into the now leaderless ranks and slew their attackers left and right.

However before they could kill everyone, Athena decided, that playtime was over.

She appeared above the fray, that everyone froze in fear and/or reverence.

“Men of Ithaka!”, she announced with a thundering voice, “Cease the fighting and break apart, ere the earth is stained with your blood!”

After the parties had broken apart, Athena persuaded the quarrellers to make peace.

Thus ends the story of how Odysseus finally came home and regained his kingdom.

The stories of his deeds were passed on orally, from generation to generation.

Several centuries later, a blind poet dictated the glorious epics of the Iliad and the Odyssey to someone and they would be known for many more centuries to come.

Just like the name of the poet, who dictated them: Homer.

---

1) Only certain parts of a sacrificial animal would go to the gods: the fat and bones. The rest would be kept by the mortals. According to myth, Prometheus tricked Zeus into this. 2) Menélaos - just like Agamemnon - was the son of Atreus, who was a real nasty piece of work. So of course Menélaos would view Nestor, a far friendlier person, as more of a father figure. 3) In the Iliad Odysseus is described as not being very tall and looking relatively unimpressive at first glance.

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queen-scribbles · 4 years

Note

8, 15, 21, 39, 48 for Tavi; 6, 8, 25, 30, 33, 41, 50 for Adi; 5, 8, 14, 20, 24, 53 for Emiri?

TAVI

8. Weapon of Choice(?)

Her sabres or her fists. She can do serious damage with just about anything, but those are her areas of expertise, so to speak.

15. Can they sing? Can they dance?

Not well for both. Her singing voice especially is just awful.

21. Fave food(s) and drink(s)

Food–roasted boar and Edér’s venison stew(yes, specifically his; it’s the best, fight her)

Drink–I don’t really think she has one… at least not that I can remember without digging through her tag >.>

39. Your character walks into a cafe. What do they order?

Black coffee and a bear claw

48. What was their lowest point? What was their highest point?

Ah, an easy one! Lowest point’s for sure the night her family died, highest is the day she discovered not all of them did and she got her baby brother back after forty fuckin’ years.

ADI

6. Headcanon VA

Either Laura Bailey(since she’s Dagna’s VA in DAI and Adi is just orlan!Dagna) or Ali Hillis(bc I really like her Harding voice)

8. Weapon of Choice(?)

Her grimoire. Both for all the spells and to whack people with.

25. City or Country?

Either’s good. There’s fewer distractions in the country, but more resources for reading/research in the city, and both can be explored, just in different ways.

30. What was adolescence like?

Lots of reading, not many close friends but everyone liked her, first crush(didn’t go anywhere), hanging out at Ben and Eztli’s a lot, that ultimately declined invitation to the Selona Academy

33. How have they changed over time?

She’s gotten a lot better at tempering her curiosity with concern for other’s safety. (still not great at worrying about her own, which is why she explores with Kana/Xoti/Rekke a lot; she still needs someone going “Adi, maybe DON’T TOUCH THAT”). Gotten more tolerant of responsibility. She’d still rather be out exploring but she puts her duties as Roadwarden or Captain first with much less internal grumbling.

41. What’s their morning routine like?

Rolls out of bed her cheery chatterbox self, usually before the sun’s up(she drives Aloth nuts, bc he’s also an early riser, but the “give me an hour and a good cup of tea before I talk to people” kind, and she won’t stop chattering at him), grabs whatever book she’s reading to pore over while she eats breakfast, there’s usually tea or murkbrew(thanks, Xoti, bc ADI needed caffeine), brushes and braids her hair, and then curls back up with the book til everyone else is awake. Unless it’s a circumstance where they need to get moving; then she’s walking around poking people til they roll out of bed.

50. What are some motifs associated with your character?

Her grimoire(growth, learning, balance of curiosity and caution)

Apple spice tea(thinking of/missing home)

Her necklace(family)

Flowers(optimism, love of exploring)

EMIRI

5. Height and Body type

6′8″ and lean muscles

8. Weapon of Choice(?)

one-hand war hammer and a dagger; her cipher abilities

14. Can they cook? Can they bake?

….Sort of? She’s learning. By the end of Deadfire she’s halfway decent.

20. Clothing/Aesthetic

Very casual and simple whenever possible; trousers and a loose shirt(she actually spent most of the first game in that one really raggedy peasant clothes outfit), comfortable boots. Finally starts wearing light leather armor in the Deadfire, just to be safe. Always has 3-7 of those macrame bracelets she makes on her wrist. The adra green one’s been fixed about six times by the time she reaches Ukaizo but she refuses to replace it, so it’s this dingy patchwork of old and new thread that stands out more the newer her other bracelets are.

24. Fave Season

Summer, particularly the later two months

53. Expectations vs Reality: what did you expect and what did you get with this character?

I expected to play a moon godlike cipher who picked all the benevolent dialogue options she could bc I wanted a moon godlike for Deadfire and hadn’t played a cipher yet and didn’t think she was gonna develop any real personality. HA.

What I got was a former slave who rebelled against life trying to beat the kindness out of her by going “I THINK NOT, I’M GONNA CARE EVEN MORE NOW.” who bonded with Aloth to the point their friendship still makes me super emotional, who’s sweet and gentle and almost never curses and has a massive crush on the party chanter, who gets back up every time life or the gods knock her down bc living the way she wants and showing others the kindness she wasn’t is the best ‘fuck you’ to a harsh world she could think of. I love her.

Detailed OC Asks

#detailed oc asks #tavi illani #adela tecali #emiri #watcher wednesday #why not? :P

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parkerrogersgirl · 7 years

Text

Happy Accident Part VIII

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,861

Warnings: Steve being cute, fluff, more fluff, swearing, Steve being a perfect lil angel

Summary: After he saves you from being injured at the gym, THE Steve Rogers asks you out. Little by little, you start falling in love with every part of him, his quirks, his old-fashionedness, and his charm. But are you ready to let your guard down and let him in?

Author’s Note: HI EVERYONE! This is my first ever fic, so please give me feedback in my asks and like/reblog! And I will be taking requests, so feel free to send me some of those. Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! On another note, I have to mention @sis-tafics because this fic probably wouldn’t exist without her support. She encouraged me to write this, and I’m eternally grateful. Thanks, Jill! Also thanks to the marvelous @my-emotional-selffor pretty much inspiring me with her KILLLLLLLER Chris Evans fanfic! And thank you to @lonelyvampirequeen for becoming my editor!

Catch up here!

Masterlist

Steve smirks, sweeping you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style toward the bathroom.

“Steeeeeve what are you doing?” You whine at him.

He sits you down on the counter, reaching into the shower to turn on the water, “I never got a chance to shower last night, and I know you didn’t either.” He does the thing that guys do where he reaches behind his back and pulls the shirt over his head. Before he turns around, you take off your underwear, dropping them on the floor. He steps between your legs, wrapping his hands around the small of your back. He brushes your hair out of your face and leans in to kiss you softly. You smile into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. You keep kissing him as you start to unbutton his shirt that you’re wearing. He smirks, helping you remove it and tossing it on the floor.

He winks at you, removing his pants and boxers. He pulls you to him, picking you up off the counter and carrying you into the shower. He shuts the shower door behind him before backing you to the wall, kissing you roughly as the water cascades over over the two of you. You kiss back, stroking his naked back lightly. He runs his fingers through your hair, deepening the kiss as he lets you down. You smile up at him, stepping under the water as you start washing your hair. He pours shampoo into his hands and rubs it into your hair.

You moan as he does, “Steve, that feels good.”

“I’m glad to hear that, doll,” he said with a smirk as he keeps rubbing your head, using his fingers as he starts to rinse it out.

You stand on your toes to kiss him as he washes out the shampoo. He kisses back, starting to wash his own hair. You put conditioner in your hair, then extend your arms up, struggling to reach Steve’s hair.

Steve laughs, bending down a little so you can wash his hair. He moans as you play with his hair, rubbing in the shampoo as he did to you. He shakes his head, pulling you to him as he kisses you roughly, the water rinsing out the shampoo. He grabs your ass, and you moan into the kiss.

You pull away slightly, looking up at him. “What happened to the gentlemanlike Steve I met last week?”

He whispers low in your ear, “baby, I may be a gentleman, but I’m also madly in love with you. I can still be polite and absolutely ravage you.” You moan softly, washing out the conditioner before Steve turns off the water. You get out, handing him a towel before wrapping one around yourself. He wraps it around his waist, standing behind you in his half-naked godlike glory.

“So what are we doing today, honey?” You look back at him as you start to blow dry your hair.

He smirks, shaking his head at you, “I’m not telling, doll. Just dress warm. I’ll go get dressed while you do your hair.” He kisses your neck from behind before going out to your bedroom to get dressed.

You finish blow drying your hair, quickly curling and hair spraying it. You pin it back, and decide against wearing any makeup other than your red liquid lipstick, the one that stays on for hours, and very little mascara to make your eyes pop. You walk out to the bedroom still wearing your towel and see Steve sitting on your bed in a thick blue turtleneck and black corduroys.

He looks up from his phone, eyes widening when he sees you, “I love it when you curl your hair.”

You giggle, walking over to your closet to get dressed. You slip on a long-sleeved, grey cable-knit dress and black leggings. You put on thick socks and your comfy black heeled boots.

You turn to face him, looking over at him, “is this okay?”

“Baby girl, you look incredible.” He walks over to you, taking your hand to kiss it softly. “Ready to go?”

You kiss the tip of your nose, “are you going to tell me where we’re going?” He rolls his eyes, “of course not, it’s a surprise.”

“Okay, let’s go then.” You put on the coat he let you borrow, grinning up at him. He looks over at you, “baby, how am I supposed to control myself when you’re so goddamn cute?”

“Well how am I supposed to focus when you look like a Greek god?” You ask as he puts on his heavy brown leather jacket.

He takes your hand again, walking toward your front door with you. You put your phone in your pocket before putting on your gloves, then open your door and lock it once Steve walks out. He goes over to the elevator and presses the button. You catch up with him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“Miss, I’m sorry, but I’m taken.” He turns to look at you and winks, “oh, hey, doll. Didn’t know that was you back there.”

“Not funny,” you smack his arm lightly as the elevator reaches your floor.

He feigns pain and steps into the elevator, “I’ve been wounded. Everything’s going dark. Can’t… hold… on…. much… longer...” He slumps over, leaning onto the elevator wall. You shake your head as you get into the elevator and press the lobby button.

You grab his waist, kissing him deeply, “better?”

His eyes open immediately, his arms going around your waist, “much better.” He stands up straight and you roll your eyes at him.

“You are ridiculous.” You kiss him deeply and feel his hands on your ass, pulling you tight to him. The elevator reaches the lobby and he squeezes your ass. You giggle as you step out of the elevator. He steps out with you, his arm going around your waist as you walk outside.

“FUCK IT’S COLD.”

You gasp, turning to stare at him, “STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

He looks around, confused, “it’s cold?”

“I never thought I would hear Steve Rogers say the word ‘fuck’,” you say as you put on your heavy duty gloves.

He pulls you against him, whispering in your ear, “well, maybe you’ll get me to say it again… in bed tonight.” He winks at you, his arm going back around your waist as you continue walking together. He pauses for a second to put on his mittens, then resumes walking down the block with you.

You lean on him, trying to match his strides, “sooooooooo where are we going?”

“The park.”

“Aaaaaaand what are we doing?”

He laughs, “baby I’m not gonna tell you till we get there.”

You groan, “you should probably know that I don’t like surprises.”

“Really? Gee, I couldn’t tell. And don’t worry, I promise you’ll like this one. I doubt I’ll ever have a surprise for you that you won’t like.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You walk in silence for a bit, his hand leaving your waist to hold your hand.

“Sorry, babe. It’s just hard to walk like that.”

You shrug, “it’s okay, it’s a little awkward for me to be walking in with my head in your armpit.” You stick your tongue out at him.

He kisses the top of your head, “I don’t understand how I got so lucky meeting you. I’ve been thanking God every day that you were clumsy enough to fall off the treadmill.” He winks at you.

You bump into him, “well why were you even standing behind the treadmill?”

He blushes, looking at the ground as he stops when you reach the crosswalk, waiting for the cue to walk. “Well… I was honestly looking at you. You were the most beautiful girl I’d seen in a long time. Probably since before I was frozen. That’s why I’m grateful that you were clumsy and fell off of the treadmill. Because it gave me a chance to meet you and fall in love with you.”

You blush, standing on your toes to kiss him before the “WALK” sign appears, “well I’m glad you were quick enough to catch me,” you say, crossing the street with Steve.

Once you reach the other side, Steve pulls you into his arms, looking into your eyes. “(Y/N), I’ll catch you every time, and I’ll never let go.”

‘I love you, sweetheart,” you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him passionately. Some a few feet away start clapping and you and Steve pull apart, embarrassed.

The two of you link arms, walking into the park.

You smile up at Steve, “I feel like Dorothy going to Oz walking like this.”

“I UNDERSTOOD THAT REFERENCE,” Steve yells, looking proud of himself.

You laugh, nudging him as he steers you in the park, “you’re such a big goof.”

He puts a hand over his heart, “wow, what a blow to the ego.” He keeps walking with you, making his way to the center of the park, meandering away from the group of school kids that are screaming and playing in the snow.

You squeeze his hand, bringing it up to your lips to kiss it, “how much farther?”

“We’re almost there, doll, don’t worry.” You sigh as he makes a left, stopping when he’s reached your destination, “this is it doll.”

Your smile falters as you see the sign displaying the name of your location.

Wollman Ice Skating Rink.

“Oh……...” You whisper.

Tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added!):

@sis-tafics @my-emotional-self @thankyouforanonymity @gatorgal94 @supernaturaldean67 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @victoriawilson23 @rissbennett @summer-winchester @thevampywitch @princess76179 @srgntjbarnes @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @jcc04220 @lostess-souless @samanddeanmyguardianhunters @ilovethefandomwho @superflashallen @dancer2001

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academicatheism · 7 years

Text

Another Evolution Denier

godlike-and-cowering:

1) Darwin defined the mechanism of evolution as decent with modification, and what he hypothesized was a trend in the fossil record showing small changes into speciation. We don’t see that. Archeologists don’t see that. Paleontologists don’t see that. We see punctuated equilibrium. That’s the notion that species arise abruptly at sporadic points in time. Almost as if they might have been placed here? Ponder

I’ll set aside all of the Deepak Chopra-esque woo woo you talked about in our chat and focus on your egregious ignorance on evolution. Descent with modification is precisely what we see. It’s fine to be ignorant of the fossil record, but gradual changes do result in macroevolutionary speciation stemming beyond beak length and girth, fur pigmentation, neck size, and so on; I’ll go over this in detail later. I already discussed whale evolution and human evolution in a previous response. I briefly mentioned horse evolution, but that’s another marquee example of macroevolution:

This isn’t an example of punctuated equilibrium, which you misdefine as species arising abruptly because “they might have been placed there” – so I’ll return to that in a bit; this is an example of evolutionary modification over long periods of time resulting in speciation. Paleontologists have certainly seen what you said they don’t see. If not for being able to see what you’re claiming they’re blind to, we wouldn’t have such clear examples in the fossil record.

Before I go on, punctuated equilibrium is a hypothesis put forward by Stephen Jay Gould and Niles Eldridge, which states that even over a period of millions of years, species are stable. This much more gradual change is then punctuated by rapid changes resulting in new species. This change is then followed by further stability. Bryozoan have been stable for roughly 140 million years and their fossil record appears to confirm Gould and Eldridge’s hypothesis. As Berkley’s Evolution page tells us, however, punctuated equilibrium doesn’t:

- Suggest that Darwin’s theory of evolution by natural selection is wrong. - Mean that the central conclusion of evolutionary theory, that life is old and - organisms share a common ancestor, no longer holds. - Negate previous work on how evolution by natural selection works. - Imply that evolution only happens in rapid bursts.

Punctuated equilibrium isn’t a challenge to natural selection. It’s simply another evolutionary model and it isn’t at all clear that punctuated equilibrium occurs most frequently or that it is the dominant evolutionary model. That debate rages on, but there are of course cases that show it to be less prevalent. In fact, homologies and atavisms may show that punctuated equilibrium is uncommon. As Jerry Coyne explains:

The most striking atavism in our own species is called the “coccygeal projection,” better known as the human tail. As we’ll learn shortly, early in development human embryos have a sizable fishlike tail which begins to disappear about seven weeks into development (its bones and tissues are simply reabsorbed by the body). Rarely, however, it doesn’t regress completely, and a baby is born with a tail projecting from the base of its spine (figure 14). The tails vary tremendously: some are “soft.” without bone, while others contain vertebrae — the same vertebrae normally fused together in our tailbone. Some tails are an inch long, others nearly a foot. And they aren’t just simple flaps of skin, but can have hair, muscles, blood vessels, and nerves. Some can even wiggle! Fortunately, these awkward protrusions are easily removed by surgeons.

What can this mean, other than that we still carry a developmental program for making tails? Indeed, recent genetic work has shown that we carry exactly the same genes that make tails in animals like mice, but these genes are normally deactivated in human fetuses. Tails appear to be true atavisms.

Coyne, Jerry A. Why evolution is true. Oxford: Oxford U Press, 2010. 65-66 Print.

What you miss and clearly didn’t anticipate as a part of my response is the genetic component. All phenotypical traits have corresponding genotypes. A phenotypical trait is what’s observed when genes are expressed whilst the genotype is what results in such traits. Without a clear understanding of the genotype-phenotype distinction, natural selection can’t be understood. I must add that while there is a clear distinction between the two, there’s also a clear causal connection and this is precisely what Coyne points out. We have tail-making genes, but generally speaking, humans don’t develop tails. That’s because the tail-making genes do not express themselves, hence there’s no corresponding phenotypical trait. When they do happen to express themselves, there’s a corresponding phenotypical trait.

For anyone who might be confused, an atavism is not a vestigial trait. The human tail is sometimes erroneously considered a vestigial trait, but it isn’t because it’s not a non-functioning version of a tail. In other words, if all humans were born with tails that don’t wiggle, wag, and so on, then it would be a lot more like an ostrich’s wings. The ostrich has repurposed its wings to help it maintain balance and to add thrust when it runs, but an ostrich notably doesn’t and cannot fly. Their wings are vestigial structures.

Atavisms, on the other hand, are phenotypical traits that reappear in a modern individual or even within a genomic lineage but not in a population. It is entirely possible for a grandparent, parent, and child to have been born with a tail; this is an example of an atavism reappearing in a lineage. Though that’s possible, there are no observed instances of any large portion of the human population being born with tails. In any case, the tail, unlike the human appendix, is not a repurposed structure and thus, isn’t a vestigial trait.

Homologies may appear to show a so-called body plan by a designer in the minds of some, but homologies, if that view is to be taken seriously, show only a severe lack of imagination. As Francois Jacobs noted, evolution is a tinkerer. It isn’t at all like a designer and this is precisely why this apparent lack of imagination is widespread. As Prothero explains:

For example, the basic vertebrate forelimb has the same basic elements: a single large bone (the humerus), a pair of two long bones in the forearm (the radius and ulna), a number of wrist bones (carpals and metacarpals), and multiple bones (phalanges) support five digits (fingers). But look at the wide array of ways that some animals use this basic body plan! Whales have modified them into a flipper, while bats have extended the fingers out to support a wing membrane. Birds also developed a wing, but in an entirely different way, with most of the hand and wrist bones reduced or fused together, and feather shafts providing the wing support instead of fingers bones. Horses have lost their side toes and walk on one large finger, the middle finger. None of this makes any sense unless these animals inherited a standard body plan in place from their distinct ancestors and had to modify it to suit their present-day function and ecology. These common elements (bones, muscles, nerves) that serve different functions despite being built from the same basic parts are known as homologous structures. For example, the finger bones of a bat wing are homologous with our finger bones, and so on.

Prothero, Donald R., and Carl Dennis. Buell. Evolution: what the fossils say and why it matters. New York: Columbia U Press, 2007. 105-106. Print.

He goes on to explain that an “intelligent designer” wouldn’t jury-rig these structures using the bones that these individuals inherited from their ancestors. Indeed a perfect and infinitely intelligent designer would design wings in the best way possible. Whale flippers wouldn’t have differed in their bone configuration compared to the flippers of fish and marine reptiles. Though all of these structures have the same function, all of them are configured differently, and though they’re configured differently, they are inherited from the organism’s ancestors.

While you’re looking for justification in the fact that species arise rapidly “as though they were put there” or created from scratch, you’re paying attention to what’s on the surface. In other words, punctuated equilibrium cannot and doesn’t attempt to disprove the notion that structures like wings, flippers, and hands evolved, and that they evolved from ancestral bones. Speciation isn’t the only evidence we have; genotypes resulting in phenotypical traits aren’t the only evidence we have; we also have evidence of ancestral bone structures being reconfigured to suit modern purposes. If punctuated equilibrium were a challenge to natural selection, atavisms and homologies would be explained alternatively and better, or be explained away entirely; punctuated equilibrium doesn’t accomplish that.

2) two scientists tried and failed to propose a start to the central dogma of biology which is DNA -> RNA -> PROTEINS Even using ribozymes with amino acids and lighting in a shallow bed couldn’t assemble the right order or even close to a viable RNA transcript that could also self replicate. Even under water under pressures and thermal heat, still the same outcome. It’s a “what came first, the chicken or the egg?” Type of equation that still baffles EVERY BIOLOGIST TODAY. You need critical proteins to replicate or transcribe DNA or RNA, and those critical proteins are encoded in the RNA, which is encoded in the DNA. If this isn’t clear please let me know because I want to make sure you understand that this isn’t something any scientist can sidestep. Not now, so let future generations that have better answers use biology to undermine a common architect.

This is a classic example of an argument from ignorance or alternatively, an argument from personal incredulity. Falling short of saying your argument fails because it’s fallacious, which would constitute a fallacy on its own, namely fallacy fallacy, I’m going to point out that your whole argument is a fallacy. It’s as good as Hoyle’s Fallacy. You’re basically concluding that since past and modern scientists haven’t established abiogenesis, that future scientists can’t. That’s a fallacious inductive argument stemming from your desperate need to believe in a creator. There’s that and having the sequence entirely wrong. RNA World actually posits RNA (ribozymes) –> DNA –> Proteins. Ribozymes catalyzed chemical reactions in the earliest lifeforms. These reactions eventually resulted in DNA and more complex protein synthesis.

Aside from that, you act as though abiogenesis is limited to RNA World. You say nothing of panspermia or what the Uray-Miller Experiment attempted to show, namely that life started with an electric spark. You also say nothing of the prevalence of hydrothermal vents in the oceans of ancient Earth, a place where chemosynthetic organisms are known to thrive. Panspermia is especially enticing given that the building blocks of life have been found on meteorites and that, in fact, the building blocks are ubiquitous not only in our solar system, but in the universe. Life here might have been seeded from elsewhere and far from pushing the buck back, it’s a matter of probability.

What’s more probable – an invisible, incompetent designer making life from scratch or organic matter arising from inorganic matter? What’s more probable – an incompetent designer using organic matter to animate life or organic matter going through gradual chemical evolution and eventually resulting in life? The probability favors the idea that well-established inorganic to organic reactions eventually resulted in organic compounds resulting in life. RNA World is simply one way that might have happened, but certainly not the only way that’s been proposed.

In any case, god used to be the widespread explanation for everything from storms to earthquakes to volcanic eruptions. Since these have been thoroughly explained without requiring supernatural agency, what’s next is to relegate god to what remains of human ignorance. Specifically, since we don’t yet know in full detail how the universe and life came to be, god is the placeholder explanation. Given your penchant for inductive arguments (faulty ones at that), I’ll present a much more compelling and likely inductive argument.

This is where you point and laugh and say the predictable: “taking notes from a comedian…LOLz.” Well, it’s quite telling that a comedian, not a scientist, has a better grasp of reality than you do. He makes a valid point anyway and pointing out that he’s a comedian is ad hominem. Philosophy is a human endeavor and as such, everyone has the potential to do good philosophy – and here, Minchin is presenting a solid inductive argument and thus, doing good philosophy.

God or supernatural agents used to be a primary mode of explanation. That simply isn’t the case anymore. People like yourself have relegated god to the posts of our ignorance, but as history has shown time and again, the god explanation will be decisively supplanted by a better, more objective explanation. Moreover, that explanation will be replicable and falsifiable. The god explanation obviously lacks basic scientific criteria in that it isn’t replicable; it’s merely false consensus. It also isn’t falsifiable because apparently, even the notion of a multiverse doesn’t cancel out the god explanation for some believers. Believers don’t allow the god explanation to go away because they’re intransigent individuals who have a desperate, deeply rooted need to believe.

They have projected their ego and psychological fragility onto the whole of the universe in stating that the creator must look like and favor them. Aside from that, the god explanation has been regressive and stagnating rather than progressive. The god explanation leads to no proliferation of knowledge, breakthroughs, and solutions. It leaves us completely and utterly without sound explanation for our current ignorance. There once existed a woo woo believer like you that said that scientists and natural philosophers will never figure out x or y; once they did figure out x or y, the matter became a and b; then they figured out a and b, and so the matter became w and x, and so on. “God is the ever-receding pocket of scientific ignorance”, as Neil deGrasse Tyson so wonderfully put it.

3) you must be thinking of micro evolution because that is something that biologists do all agree on. This is the notion that evolutionary changes can occur selectively within a species especially over a short period of time. This is the example of Darwin’s finches, and the break of the polar bears, all these examples I’m sure you would have hoped to fuck me with. Especially changes within the gene pool. But you would see that even polar bears and grizzleys would have a viable cub. You would see that darwin’s finches would be in fact fertile and viable. They’re the same species. There’s no speciation. What defines speciation across the board is the ability for two organisms to provide a viable fertile offspring. Would you call every dog a different species? When we can cross breed every one like we have for centuries? See, evolution is one species giving rise to many. We don’t even have a clean example of a definitive species giving rise to another completely. That’s macroevolution. That’s something the scientists of tomorrow also need to investigate to substantiate your take on evolution. So until then, hold those arguments also.

My “take” on evolution has already been firmly substantiated. Apart from the two fossil records I summarized in my response to that other evolution denier, I briefly went over another one above. Aside from that, I went over evolution at the genetic and phenotypical level, something you failed to anticipate. What’s more is that we do have clean examples of one species, over a long period of time, giving rise to a completely different species. In fact, the emergence of polar bears is a macroevolutionary example! All you show here is a misapprehension of evolution.

You don’t understand macroevolution. You’re not thinking one species branching off into two or more distinct species. You’re thinking pokemon; you’re thinking Dratini becoming Dragonite with one intermediary barely explaining how the thing went from a sea dragon to a bipedal dragon with wings! That’s not macroevolution. Dogs are, first and foremost, the product of mostly artificial selection and any difference in breeds is selected, directly or indirectly, by humans.

Macroevolution, on the other hand, has been observed repeatedly. You gave an example in the emergence of polar bears. There’s also the example of homo antercessor splitting into homo neaderthalensis and homo sapien, and perhaps even Denisovans, homo floresiensis and homo naledi. Whales, dolphins, and porpoises are cetaceans with a common ancestor and apart from the many distinct whale, dolphin, and porpoise species we have today, there are many that have gone extinct. Again (!), we have plenty of fossils. So pronounced is this macroevolutionary change, that the criterion of interbreeding is no longer met. A blue whale wouldn’t even attempt to breed with a say, an hourglass dolphin or a clymene. Heck, it wouldn’t even attempt breeding with a humpback or beluga.

The issue with what you’re saying narrows down to scientific illiteracy. You limit speciation to sympatric speciation and utterly ignore allopatric speciation. What you describe, namely two species that are geographically close enough to interbreed, is sympatric speciation. What you don’t even mention is allopatric speciation, which occurs when species sharing a common ancestor are geographically isolated or vicariant and therefore, can’t breed. Vicariance prevents gene flow and therefore, interbreeding. As PBS explains:

An example of vicariance is the separation of marine creatures on either side of Central America when the Isthmus of Panama closed about 3 million years ago, creating a land bridge between North and South America. Nancy Knowlton of the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute in Panama has been studying this geological event and its effects on populations of snapping shrimp. She and her colleagues found that shrimp on one side of the isthmus appeared almost identical to those on the other side – having once been members of the same population.

But when she put males and females from different sides of the isthmus together, they snapped aggressively instead of courting. They had become separate species, just as the theory would predict.

You also didn’t mention parapatric speciation. Though it occurs a much lesser frequency, it has been observed. Parapatric speciation is being observed, in real time, in Anthoxanthum odoratum. A portion of the species lives in contaminated soil and have developed tolerance for heavy metals whilst another portion lives in the same soil and has not developed this tolerance. The tolerant plants and intolerant plants are geographically near to one another and yet, they don’t fertilize with one another because their flowering times differ. We are observing, in real time, the permanent end to gene flow within a continuous population.

I strongly suggest that you get a handle on what you’re looking to deny before speaking on the matter. I promised not only to put your ignorance on display, but also to correct it – not so much for you, but for people who share your views. It is a known fact that the person receiving correction tends to double down. It is also known that minds are changed indirectly and in private. I’m not so much concerned about you correcting your ignorance; I don’t see that happening anytime soon because it appears your need to believe is tied to psychological changes resulting from frequent narcotics (ab)use.

Exchanges like this do present good opportunity to communicate to them who are currently ignorant but have no stake in this particular game. My point isn’t to demean them, but rather to get them to understand that they don’t actually understand what they purport to understand and that, in fact, they lack even a perfunctory grasp of the topic. You don’t get evolution and that much is clear by a failure to understand the genotype-phenotype distinction and connection, the micro-macro distinction, and the types of speciation there are. Apart from that, you lack a basic comprehension of what constitutes a scientific theory, which explains why you think the god explanation holds water. You also show a lack of depth in the topic of abiogenesis, pretending to debase merely one theory (RNA World) whilst also demonstrating a poor understanding of the theory.

Read more; take some courses; use the internet; most importantly, stay far away from pseudoscientific, apologetic sites defending creationism and intelligent design. One thing is clear, if one wants to give a designer credit for the diversity of life on this planet, they credit a demonstrably incompetent designer that repurposes existing material in a haphazard way – the same process that can be achieved by blind chance. The evolution of life on this planet is a statistical process, a process of trial and error that doesn’t present to us any opportunity to give credit to or cast blame on a designer.

#science #evolution #paleontology #apologetics #creationism #intelligent design #speciation #homology #atavism #vicariance

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fineillsignup · 7 years

Note

Naruto 💕

A long long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I posted an ask meme and then never bloody answered the asks…

003 | Give me a character & I will tell youHow I feel about this character: My two favourite tags I use for Naruto content are “idiotic ball of sunshine” and “thank you for loving our idiot son” and I think they about sum it up…All the people I ship romantically with this character: Naruto is a fucking difficult character to ship in practice and I’ll tell you why, it’s because FFnet is clogged with Naruto/harem fics, which I have no interest in. You search Naruto/almost any character and it’s just harems, harems as far as the eye can see, and also just a lot of dreck, generally??? Like damn. “Strong!Smart!Grey!Godlike!Sharingan!Mokuton!Naruto”. GTFO. “Some uninteresting overpowered asshole with the same name and general appearance as Naruto”, more like. Like, I can mayyyyyybe understand the people who were writing fic for Naruto back in 2006 giving him power upgrades, but I am seriously side-eyeing anyone who read/watched the Naruto vs. Kaguya fight and said “You know what’s wrong with this series? Naruto isn’t powerful enough.”

AO3 is better but not that much better because there you have the problem that Naruto, as the main character, is in almost every fic??? And because you can tag ALL THE THINGS in Ao3 without being able to specify who the main character or main pairing is, the signal to noise ratio is again enormous.My non-romantic OTP for this character: I have nothing against NaruSaku as a romantic ship but I just looooove them as friends so much. LOOOOVE them. Like I am down for about 1000% more depictions of heterosexually attracted men and women being extremely close friends in media. (I hope I don’t get any Tumblr police coming after me for that phrasing, I’m not sure how to put it succinctly, but basically two people who COULD be romantically or sexually attracted to each other, or even were attracted or in a relationship at one time, but now they’re totally platonic and would literally die for each other and they have the best time when they hang out which is all the time???? And nobody is jealous and people trust their partners if they’re in relationships???? MORE OF THAT. PLEASE. I AM SO WEAK FOR IT.My unpopular opinion about this character: *takes a deep breath* I LIKE NARUTO’S SHORT HAIR OKAY

*braces self for blocks and unfollows*One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Hahahaha how much time do you have?

If I have to pick just one, I would have liked to have seen Naruto end the Hyuuga house branch slavery system.My OTP: It’s NaruHina.

NaruHina shipper who hates the canon ending? It’s more likely than you think.

Basically my problems with the canon ending have almost nothing to do with who’s getting down to sexy town.

I like NaruHina because I think Naruto and Hinata have compatible personalities, are aesthetically gorgeous together, have the capacity for deep mutual understanding, and the potential for real growth and for forming a beautiful family together. I am also weak for the notion that MinaKushi, while well-meaning, missed in their recommendations to “find a girl like your mother” that Naruto really needed to find someone like Minato, not like Kushina. Hinata isn’t nearly on Minato’s level in Shippuden in terms of being basically the perfect human being, but I headcanon that, unusually for the Naruto world, Minato had… now stop me if this is unrealistic… supportive, stable, loving, validating parents. Hinata, with Repression McDouche for a dad, growing up in the Hyuuga, was raised in possibly the worst environment for someone of her temperament. Naruto also isn’t exactly Kushina but they’re a lot closer because Kushina underwent some similar experiences of loss, exclusion, etc. I do think that in Shippuden NaruHina was on the right path.

As far as ships depicted in the canon ending go, I don’t think NaruHina is depicted as all that dysfunctional tbh. Basically if I had to rate the ship solely based on how it’s depicted in canon post-699 I’d probably still give it a 7/10. I don’t like the “strangled by the red string” aspects of The Last, the retconning of Naruto’s feelings for Sakura (you can, in fact, have genuine attraction to more than one person, even at the same time, scandalous!) and the whole plot with the “alien kidnaps ur gurl” and “do not destroy the moon” aspects were silly. I don’t like how canon emphasizes the domestic side of all the female characters in 700, but I think becoming a homemaker is 100% a valid choice and in the case of Hinata, even a potentially rebellious one. Stay with me for a second, I’m acknowledging that the canon ending doesn’t have a rebellious bone in its mouldering corpse, but think of how Hinata was raised, the expectations she was smothered with and how she was constantly told that not being a good ninja meant she was worthless, and imagine her, as an adult, saying to her father and the main house, “You know, I am not interested in being a Hyuuga as you define it. In fact, now that the world is basically peaceful, I am not interested in being a ninja at all. I’m getting married and I’m going to have a baby and stay home with the baby. I’m going to scrub the toilet, I’m going to cook dinner, I’m going to rake leaves, I’m going to vacuum–all those servile tasks that you force the branch house to do for you. I’m going to knit. Do you know I really, really enjoy knitting? I made this sweater and I feel very proud of it and I like it and I like the way I look in it. See you never.”

My OT3: I don’t really have OT3 ships but I’ve seen some enjoyable NaruSakuSasu. Certainly as a BroT3 they have massive potential that’s massively missed in canon. Dark anime, show me the universe where Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura have a scene where they are all adults and spend time together with each one happy to be with both of the others.

#naruhina #naruto uzumaki #anti-naruto ending #naruhina shipper who hates the ending?#it's more likely than you think #narusaku as brotp #idiotic ball of sunshine #thank you for loving our idiot son #i should have a tag for asks #ask meme #naruto #long post

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fashiontrendin-blog · 7 years

Text

Sick of Social Media? I Have an Idea For You

http://fashion-trendin.com/sick-of-social-media-i-have-an-idea-for-you/

Sick of Social Media? I Have an Idea For You

If you’ve been having trouble sleeping, feeling anxious, experiencing low self-esteem, getting distracted, procrastinating and/or wondering the meaning of it all, you can probably chalk it up to social media, and it’s probably time for you to go off the grid for a while. That said, I know how tough it can be to dismantle a habit so deeply ingrained, which is why I’ve outlined a time-tested approach to doing so below. I’ve witnessed several esteemed users execute these 15 steps with astonishing results according to their followup posts. I know 15 feels like a lot, but if you follow these closely, you just might find, nestled in the deepest corner of your psyche, the belief that you’re a genuinely good and possibly superior being to others. Good luck, and dog speed.

Step 1: Inform all your followers on social media that social media is really tiring you out, and that you’re considering taking a break for the sake of your sanity.

Step 2: Craft a relatable post to share across all channels that expresses why, exactly, you’ll officially be taking a break from social media.

Step 3: Share when you plan to return so your followers don’t wonder where you’ve gone (thus rendering you irrelevant), and so they know when they can expect fresh content from you. State a lofty duration of your break (this week, this month, this year) but with soft language like maybe, probably and at least.

Step 4: Check for likes, retweets, comments.

Step 5: Respond to the responses with thoughts and ideas about why you think social media isn’t good for you right now, or really anyone, probably, but no judgement.

Step 6: Check for likes, retweets, comments.

Step 7: Pen followup post that informs friends and followers how to reach you during this time so you can stay in as close of touch as you were when you were active on the social media, which you’re for sure taking a break from, like, very soon. Make sure people know they can reach you via text, email, LinkedIn (gotta stay up on work shit), Snapchat (doesn’t count), Skype (not social media in the strict sense) and WhatsApp.

Step 8: Pause hiatus to comment superfast about Kim’s new look then leave for real.

Step 9: In the days following, attend social gatherings and discuss how it feels to be off social media (great), while also recommending all your depressed and anxious friends give it a try so they can feel like you do (great).

Step 10: Peek over their shoulders as they show you funny stuff on Twitter and marvel at how much it totally doesn’t matter how much you’ve missed. Ask them to text you that gif tho.

Step 11: Hop on to tell your followers how good you feel — suggest they take a break too. Decide to start a social media movement! Imagine all the people you could reach! Initiate that hashtag #takeasocialbreak and then bounce.

Step 12: Don’t even check for replies; that’s how above it you are.

Step 13: After a long stretch of not logging back in and feeling borderline godlike, go to a really fun party that would kill on the ‘gram, aesthetically, and realize you’re ready to return. It’s before the end of the week/month/year, but you’ve gotten so much out of this break already that you feel ready to come back.

Step 14: Alert all channels that YOU’RE BACK BABY and that you’ve learned a lot, like a ton, and that you’ll share your learnings soon.

Step 15: Check for likes, retweets, comments.

Illustration by GraphicaArtis/Getty Images.

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