#Laertes you old old man

[kattmeithmath]

The last book of the Odyssey is so funny. Let’s check in on the ghosts of characters who died in the last epic, especially a detailed account of everyone’s favorite hero Achilles’ funeral! The suitors have literally just died and have to hear Agamemnon mention how his wife murdered him for the 86th time. Meanwhile Odysseus goes to visit his dad and is like “yeah I’ll tell you who I am, truthfully” (lying) but then realizes making your dad cry is actually kinda shitty and stops halfway through. Guys in town want revenge for thing they could have prevented and also knew was happening and are like “yeah no way this goes wrong.” They show up and Odysseus and Telemachus are having a pissing contest after not knowing each other for 20 years. Laertes is old old and kills a guy in one hit cause Athena thought it would be funny. She lets them fight for five minutes before making everyone go home. The End, 10/10 no notes

[straightplayshowdown]

Waiting for Godot: Two men, Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo), meet near a tree. They while away the hours, talking philosophy, bodily functions, and sharing a few measly turnips, all while waiting for a man named Godot -- who never seems to come. They are joined by the oafish, bombastic Pozzo, his leashed human slave, Lucky, and eventually by a young boy, who informs them that that although Godot will not come today, he surely will tomorrow.

Hamlet: Hamlet is home to mourn the death of his father. He is disgusted by the marriage of his mother to his uncle, Claudius, who now has the throne. The ghost of his father reveals to Hamlet that Claudius poisoned him in the ear. Hamlet vows to avenge his father’s murder. Hamlet’s sanity begins to be questioned by all. He accidentally kills Polonius, thinking it was Cladius. Ophelia has gone mad with grief over the death of her father. Claudius suggests that Laertes duel with Hamlet. From there, the play ends in tragedy. 

Propaganda under the cut!

Waiting for Godot:

An erection! Let's hang ourselves immediately!

absurdist old man yaoi

It's the best play ever. It's a classic for a reason and that's because it's a landmark piece of absurd theatre. it's fantastic. It's confusing and goes nowhere and yet you cant help but feel for the few characters you meet. It's unusual but thats why you love it. And this is the doomed by the narrative cycles homoerotic tension obsessed with that old man website. Waiting for Godot has all of that AND MORE!

it fucks so hard and also it makes you think

Hamlet:

its hamlet. do i need to say anything more?

i mean. it just is the best play of all time. like it almost sucks that we peaked 400 years ago but it is the best play ever written and there's nothing you or i can do about that

it’s THE play

ghosts! revenge! madness! murder most foul! how could you possibly ask for more?

What a heartbreaking exploration of grief…

[nikoisme]

Part 2 of that headcanons post as promised

-After the war ended, this one man came to Ithaca asking for Odysseus. Said man was Diomedes and this was not the last time he'd visit Ithaca.

-He honestly disappears for some time, and then just pops up like "Hi. I'm back. Is he back?", stays for a bit and then leaves again. Rinse and repeat.

-Suitors run like mice whenever he comes around

-Diomedes and Penelope bonded over Odysseus, but then over their respective intelligence and clever ideas

-Diomedes was kind of like Telemachus' godfather or something.

-Diomedes had no childhood and has no idea how to interact with a kid. But the moment he saw this boy - the boy Odysseus talked so lovingly of - he immediately went "alright I'm taking him under my wing". He is just really fond of Telemachus and very protective of him.

-Teacher him how to decapacitate someone and leave no evidence kind of guy.

-Diomedes was a source of new stories about Odysseus for Telemachus. Stories that he never heard before. Stories he thought of a lot.

-Penelope and Odysseus struggled after Odysseus returned. It was a big change to get accustomed to each other again. They couldn't just continue where they left no matter how hard they tried, but didn't know where to start anew.

-Odysseus passed down the orchard to Telemachus like Laertes did to him :)

-Odysseus was scared shitless of the sea, and half-naiad Penelope helped him with his fear (water wife!!! like you said mads!!!!)

-Odysseus was incredibly stubborn and annoyed about it. He didn't want to be helped. "I know how to do it, I swam constantly as a kid!". And as soon as the small tides rise unexpectedly, he freezes and panics.

-Odysseus hates being vulnerable. Soft? Okay. Showing love? Okay. Sobbing? Okay. But he doesn't like having the parts that ache the most out in the open.

-Diomedes stayed with them for a while after Odysseus got back :D

-Diomedes eventually left and didn't come back. He started a new kingdom and he wanted to travel for a bit before he gets too old. He never knew how to get rest. As much as he hated it, he enjoyed the thrill and the rush of the unexpected.

-Telemachus married Polycaste and had a son Perseptolis! (Something something about everyone being the only son and having only a son. But a part of me wants Odysseus to be surrounded by grandkids)

-Odysseus passed down his kingdom to Telemachus, but his parents still stayed in the palace and helped him

-Telemachus did a fine job of running the kingdom. He watched his mother run it since he was a child.

-Polycaste is a quiet and shy girl. She definitely stands out among the cunning family

-Telemachus and Polycaste understand each other with the whole "my father left for war before i could even remember him"

-They support eachother c:

-Penelope adores her.

-Polycaste is really wary and shy around Odysseus. She heard her father's stories of the man whose mind was as impressive as it was dangerous

-She definitely got more comfortable after a while

-Telemachus sobbed when Perseptolis was born. Something something about being the father he never had. Swearing he will be there for his son.

-Telemachus let Odysseus be in his son's life quite a bit. He knew that Odysseus never got to raise his own kid.

-Back to Ctimene! Ctimene and Odysseus reunited!! But Ctimene was definitely hurt when she found out her husband had died. She didn't inherently blame her brother, but she was mad that only he got to return.

-Angst time :> Ctimene was pregnant when Eurylochus left for Troy. She had a son that unfortunately died when he was a toddler. So when Odysseus asked about his nephew/niece, Ctimene just broke there.

-Ctimene came back to Ithaca and stayed with Laertes.

-She was the first of the royal family to pass away. Even before Laertes.

-I'm so sorry everyone. I truly am. But in my mind, Penelope died before Odysseus.

-Odysseus was completely broken when she died. He never recovered. He was constantly wandering aimlessly, pacing until his feet bled. His mind was in a fog that didn't show signs of lifting

-There was an old dog that followed Odysseus on his countless walks. He tried to shoo him away, but the dog continued to follow him quietly. Odysseus eventually gave up and allowed the dog to walk with him

-He pushed everyone away after her death. The rest of his family barely managed to reach him. Only before his death had he slowly started to let people in his life again.

-Odysseus moved to Laertes' after a while. (After Laertes' passed away as well). He died there as well.

-Guess it's appropriate to end this with a good old "Penelope and Odysseus reunited in the Underworld and had the eternity to be together again"

[dimension20npcofalltime]

My Favourite Tags of Round One

#i dont know who tom thumb is#sorry to this man#but gilear deserves this

#Gilear is literally the NPC#the bad kids saw a sopping wet pathetic man (derogatory) and said can we keep him#brennan tried to kill him at every opportunity but this man is somehow still alive#his stats are terrible#he has like 5 hp#he loves yogurt#lou chanted big money no gilears one time#gilear faeth for the win

#shes always pissing

#that lunatic is after fabian and will shit in his mouth

#im so sorry Primsy#but Chungledown bim holes a special place in my heart#and my mouth

#laertes has to win#hes the first npc shit himself on screen

#wuvvy sweep bc god forbid women cause problems in public for her beloved friend

#PLEASE VOTE WUVVY. MORALLY GRAY GIRLBOSS OF ALL TIME

#everyone who voted pizza rat over jessa is a liar and a coward

#aelwyn is so my older sister to me

#everyone give it up for the most stylish of homies#john feathers

#why you gotta pit two bad bitches against each other

#lesbians get in here

#LESBIANS PLEASE. GET IN HERE AND VOTE CITRINA

#LESBIANS WE STILL HAVE TIME TO MAKE THIS A CITRINASWEEP

#YES LESBIANS YES!!!!! WE’RE DOING IT!!!!!!#KEEP VOTING CITRINA I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU

#ylfa: join us I like your hat#orange fairy: it’s your hat now I’mma die kthxbai

#I love cats but I love Ayda more

#BELIZABETH BC SHES A GAY ICON (to ME)

#no disrespect to the sentient basketball but LETS GO LESBIANS

#ragh <3 he’s just a guy <3 and he’s GAY

#voting plug for the pure mechanical achievement of believably putting a kooky old wizard in a scifi setting

#wow nobody watched coffin run huh?#like i get that plug is very funny but dimitri is just a pile of absurdities#hes a bat in a sailor costume with a lisp and he is so hagard from flying constantly for his job that he has a starbucks half his scenes#wven tho as mentioned he is terrible at said job and almost intentionally does it wrong??

#i get it plug is funny but hes literally an anthropomorphic bat in a sailors boy outfit with a lisp who drinks starbucks

#NO SONDHEIM#STEPHEN SONDHEIM IS ONE OF THE BEST GAGS AND NPCS IN D20 I LOVE ZELDA TOO BUT COMEON GUYS SONDHEIM

#i emotionally need stephen sondheim to sweep#pls can we get a stephen sondheim sweep

[aaronofithaca05]

Streams and moons 🌊🌙

Part 1: Odysseus death

This fic is about Odysseus´s death and underworld journey

Warnings: painless death

The day had come.

All of them were around their bed. 

Penelope was there dazzling as ever, as if the years had never passed sulking the dying king with silver streams. Telemachus beside him as the oak he was: strong, quick, he was his father´s image;  and all the palace at the feet of mighty Odysseus, at the gaze of the cunning.

He laid there in a nest of leaves and flowers in the middle of a full summer night while the fields toasted by the yearly drought were asking for the needed pearls of the sky.

The night was soft and warm as wool while the gentle summer wind felled the stars before he drew his final breath.

It was a flame that his teary eyes saw, how it flicked like his hard breath.

“Penelo..” he tried to say with his raspy voice, clogged with saliva and tears. He couldn't end it though as he felt their tears around the olive bed, their cries and wrath faded as seafoam on the shore. 

He was wet, he felt the seawater in his mouth as he dropped closer to the darkness below, as the twigs birthed the stars and his voice echoed in the leaves he knew his limbs were not feeling.

“What if I was a monster?” He thought amidst his tears  for the last time as he drew further of the light. As his soul discarded his old body, he remembered the pears in their field, he remembered the walls, the infant cries, he remembered the sea, the songs, 

Her voice. 

Before he could think, he was met by a butterfly cloud that had sprung from Penelope's hair, flowers that were born from her eyes; pale and soft as the rosy dawn before in the dark sea their wings became. 

-“Thanatos” He said while weary of the figure´s silhouette,

-“Odysseus son of Laertes, man of many turns, king of rocky Ithaca and fierce warrior of the Argives, your time has come ”. Thanatos said in solemn speech.

-“Did I really…” Odysseus tried to say while his eyes sank deeper in the man's face.

He was scared, it was true, the Fates had really cut his thread. 

Before Thanatos could lend his hand and let his soul be taken to the Styx, a winged dizzy light appeared before their eyes.

“Howdy!, who do we have here?” said a young man dressed to the brim in light.

Odysseus thought what was happening, “That voice wasn't proper of the Dead; it felt out of place in the gloomy entrance to the Styx; the vitality it gave, the quickness and wittiness was not of a normal chthonic deity I feared. No, it came from a living god” were his thoughts.

Before he could properly react to this sighting, the sunny figure spoke.

“Thani; back off please you are stealing my soul”, Hermes said in a gleeful tone.

“Good you took the Moly and my advice”, raising an eyebrow before adding: 

“ It would have been awful scorting you so young”, he said sarcastically while looking the faded face of Odysseus.

 “Look at you, with grey beard and hair, that's how I like them, with a happy ending” he proclaimed as a victory.

Part 2 ->

To all my moots, thank you!: @jarondont, @iroissleepdeprived, @nikoisme, @perroulisses,@poshgirlsstuff, @orchestrated-haunting, @katerinaaqu @incorrecthomer, @dootznbootz, @nyx-of-darkness-1620, @sunshines-child, @random-krab, @ironspdr6700, @fangirlofallthefanthings, @twomanyfandomshelp, @thehighpaladin, @the-decapod, @myblacknightworld, @simugeuge, @itszorrito67, @incorrectatlas @tunguszka20!.

[emailsfromanactor]

Hume Cronyn wrote about Redfield's February 9 letter in A Terrible Liar: A Memoir. I wanted to keep in Cronyn's thoughts about his character and this got long, so the relevant-to-today parts are beneath the cut.

*

Billy [Redfield] was not happy in this production, and he had a great deal of company. Sometimes I felt I was the only member of the cast who was reasonably content. Oh, I had my anxieties (I would be lost without them), but whether by luck or man­agement, I hit on an interpretation of the character that seemed to work. In my storm with Jessica over the character of Polon­ius, she’d likened him to Winston Churchill. I didn’t buy that at all. Polonius may have had Churchill’s authority, but as an image, he seemed to me dead wrong. Dean Acheson or even Neville Chamberlain came closer to the mark for me. These images, particularly the former, made my selection of “re­hearsal clothes” fairly easy. I wore a dark gray business suit with a very faint chalk stripe; shirt and tie, of course; a vest with a watch chain; my reading glasses hung around my neck; conservative black shoes; and I carried a cane. I hoped to es­tablish an impression of formality together with something vaguely old-fashioned.

So much for the physical; but what about the far more significant aspects of the inner man? It is easy to write Polonius off as a “tedious old fool” as Hamlet does; or again as “a wretched, rash, intruding fool.” But are those descriptions ac­curate? One of the most deceptive traps an actor can fall into is to accept another character’s description of the character he is playing. The describer is frequently prejudiced, and almost inevitably subjective. Polonius is certainly “tedious,” “old” and “intruding.” But a “fool”? Never. As with Brutus, the elements are mixed in him. There’s a lovely irony in the fact that this man Polonius, whose most famous speech idealizes character, prudence, forbearance, modesty, thrift, and half a dozen other virtues, is the same man who uses his daughter little better than a pimp might. He is a master of connivance (listen to his cynical advice to Reynaldo), and his true view of humanity is summed up with “’twere a thing a little soiled i’ the working.” Does that mean that Polonius is an out-and-out hypocrite? Not at all. I think he fervently believes in his high-minded advice to his son, Laertes. But Polonius is a believer in the precept that says, “Don’t do as I say, but as I do.” That’s what makes him such a fascinatingly contradictory character. Polonius, don’t forget, has served both king and state through two administra­tions. He is a prime minister. Such a man may on occasion prove a bumbling bore, but is not likely to lack political exper­tise or ambition.

Lady Macbeth, in speaking of her husband, says, “Art not without ambition, but without the illness should attend it.” No such lack afflicted Polonius. He had the “illness” down to a fine art, and would no doubt have termed it practical politics, and shrugged off any suggestion of deviousness. Having baited a trap with his daughter to discover Hamlet’s intention, and put a prayer book in her hand (nice touch, that), he justifies his action to King Claudius with this observation:

“Tis too much proved!—that with devotion’s visage And pious action we do sugar o’er The devil himself.”

What an inspired rationalization for a dirty bit of business! Polonius’s humanity is indeed soiled in the working.

It was this complex character that I carried into rehearsal with me. Like Billy Redfield, I had read everything I could lay my hands on relating to Hamlet. However, reading doesn’t make a performance for any actor, it can only stimulate and chal­lenge, like a good tennis opponent. You have to master your own strokes all by yourself, with, you hope, the coaching of a director—and in this instance I had one of the very best.

John Gielgud probably knows more about Hamlet than any actor alive. However, I cannot tell you how intimidating it is to rehearse a play when the director knows every word of the play without reference to the text. And therein lay part of our company’s problems. American actors in general do not have the classical background of the best of the English actors, and the occasional gulf between our company and our director was I think largely attributable to the company’s inexperience.

Redfield wrote, unhappily: “Gielgud talks little, rehearses even less. Many of the people grow uneasy, myself included. It’s all too smooth, too relaxed, too easily approved. We break too early. We take too many ‘fives.’ Every five will get us ten. . . . Obviously John places sublime faith in the actor’s ability to work things out on his own.” If John as actor could work things out on his own, why couldn’t we? If John as actor could adapt immediately to an acceptable piece of direction, what was wrong with us? The answer is fairly obvious: most of us lacked his skills. As for John’s silences, his apparent distaste for “talk” and his preference for “Let’s push on shall we?” here are two instances of direction to Burton (as reported by Billy) that strike me as pithy and about as helpful “talk” or direction as an actor could hope for.

“Have a care as to your playfulness. It’s splendid that you have such humor and wit and quickness in the part, but the long lines of Hamlet must be sad. If you frolic too much too often you may not be able to stop the laughter later on. No, don’t scowl—you’re going to make them laugh quite a bit, have no fear. But if you make them laugh too much and you can’t stop them, you will have won their stomachs while losing their hearts. Look to it.’”

Now that strikes me as pretty good talk, and to the point. And here again is another piece to Burton.

“Have a care as to shouting. You shout brilliantly; both you and Larry Olivier do—two splendid cornets. I am a violin, I’m afraid, not too good at shouting. But these hunting calls you do so well can be tiresome when sounded too often. Don’t overuse it. It’s a wonderful weapon but it’s your last weapon. Use it only when all else fails.”

And here’s a piece of direction given to me, and again cribbed from Billy’s account.

“My dear fellow, when you say to Claudius ‘What do you think of me?’ you simply must say ‘What do you think of me.’ You must emphasize the word me.”

And Redfield adds his own comment:

Cronyn finds this inflection baffling, since his intelli­gence indicates the reading to be “What do you think of me?” When he asked Gielgud for an explanation, Sir John shook his head. “I can’t give you one,” he said. “Just read it that way.”

And read it that way I did. Sometimes I know when I’m in the presence of my betters. Also, when I thought about it, con­sidered the context in which the question was asked as well as Polonius’s sense of self-importance—his hunger for approval by his king—the reading seemed right to me. John has a near-infallible ear. I argue all too easily and often when I have a conviction, but not when the director is Gielgud and it’s a mat­ter of the music of words.

[the---hermit]

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood

This review might contain spoilers so consider yourselves warned

The Odyssey edition I recently got included after the main text many other works regarding the story and this was one of them. I was really excited to read this since it had been on my radar for a while, and reading this right after reading the original work felt perfect. I won't lie to you it was a big disappointment. This is supposed to be Penelope's version of the story, but I really did not like a lot of things. The writing is nice and the idea is very cool, but there were a lot of elements that really annoyed me. The first being the portrayal of Helen. I was expecting a feminits retelling with women supporting women, and I just got the age old narrative of Helen is the cause of the war and should be blamed for it, plus she is only her looks and is kinda cruel with people, she uses seduction to play and have fun with those who are around her and so on. This really pissed me off, especially because at the beginning of the story when Penelope is quite young and we get this description of Helen, Penelope comes out of it as your typical "not like other girls" girl. Helen is bad because she is pretty and uses that in a negative way, whereas Penelope is not the pretties but she is smart and maids make fun of her because she is naive. Honestly that was a huge nope for me. And in the rest of the story this sentiment of Helen being the one to blame for the war is repeated several times. As If that wasn't enough basically all characters are negative. Telemachus is a bratty young boy who acts like a man and probably wants his mother dead, and although I get the emphasis on how annoying he is towards his mother (because that is very much present in the original work) the fact that basically everyone comes out as bad including him fell a bit flat for me. The older maid always seems resentful, Odysseus' mother blames Penelope, Laerte avoids her completly. The only positive characters in this story aside from Penelope herself seem to be the 12 young maids who are always a collective being. But at the end of the day they are good because they do what Penelope asks for them even though that might mean enduring violence, and at the end they pay for it in a brutal way. I don't know, I am not happy with this book. There were a couple of interesting points, one being these 12 maids than in a way are seen in a better light in this version of the story which was nice compared to the original text were they are just portrayed as greedy women who turn their back on Penelope and Odysseus in favour of the cruel suitors. The other interesting element that I liked was the way Penelope takes the fantasy element out of her husband's stories. The fantastical adventures are stripped of their lies and they become mundane and un-epic. That was a cool touch, but these two things aside don't balance out how annoyed I am at the portrayal of Helen and everything I talked about. I am left wondering whether I missed something or read the story wrong. I was surely not expecting to have such a bad experience with this book.

[snail-speed-6]

Hamlet's Motivations (and lack thereof)

Hello Tumblr I want to share with you some of my Hamlet musings. This one's about why Hamlet acts the way he does. This is analysis not fanfiction! 

Hamlet wishes “be all my sins remembered”, because to him, as long as he is remembered that will be enough, regardless of how he is remembered. He develops a fear of being forgotten through watching everyone forget his father. 

As he dies, Hamlet’s last request is for Horatio to share his story. He freely gives a foreign ruler his blessing without conflict and seemingly no particular interest about preserving the Danish future of his country, but just asks that his personal story be told. 

This longing for remembrance shapes Hamlet’s actions throughout the play, and could be the reason as to why the ghost’s instruction “remember me” has such a profound effect on the character. In this ghost’s command Hamlet sees himself and his desire, and perhaps he thinks that if he can keep the ghost’s - and therefore Old Hamlet’s - memory alive, then perhaps there is a chance for him to be remembered too. 

As John Kerrigan put it in his article ‘Memory and Remembrance in Hamlet’, Hamlet is haunted by a past that is begging to be remembered, which drives him to a madness and provokes further speculation about the fate of his own memory. 

This fear could also play a role in Hamlet’s ‘procrastination’ of his revenge, as he knows that as soon as the deed is done, he will likely meet an unfortunate fate himself and no longer have a chance to influence and interact with the world he so dearly wishes to be remembered by. Influenced by how the people around him treat memory, Hamlet acts accordingly, vowing to remember his father as long as he can and to somewhat keep him alive by prolonging the ghost’s wishes. Once that is fulfilled, as Hamlet fears, “the rest is silence.”

Hamlet’s tendency of self-criticism could also be the factor that determines his actions in the play, because it is at moments of self-criticism in his soliloquies that Hamlet resolves to take action and effectively move the plot forward. 

In act 2 scene 2, Hamlet cries “O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!” calling himself a cheat and a coward for all he has not done, then goes on to craft a plan to catch Claudius with the play. And as he leaves for England, Hamlet sees the soldiers going to fight for land and feels useless, but then resolves that “from this time forth, let my thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth”. However, it can also be seen in the play that these moments of self-loathing and criticism come from Hamlet reflecting on the actions of others and comparing them to himself, which could mean that Hamlet is only basing his action and worth on others, and what he feel the expectation of his should be, not what he feels is right. 

Coupled with this, Hamlet believing that his thoughts must be “bloody or be nothing worth” could be Shakespeare exposing the way that men were expected to act ‘brave’ and ‘strong’ to be considered “worthy”, and uses Hamlet as an example of how constant influence, and expectation of rash action making the ‘better man’, can corrupt otherwise kind people into those who believe in nothing but violence. For someone like Hamlet, who is chiefly a person of thought and not action, adopting this ideology would have completely changed him. 

In fact, Laertes almost completely mirrors Hamlet in this way; after his father is killed, he goes straight to action, resorting to violence almost immediately, whereas Hamlet (despite his previous sentiment) still hesitates. 

Laertes’ thoughts are “bloody”, and it is this that allows Claudius to manipulate and corrupt him through his desire to take revenge. As a foil to Hamlet, Laertes shows how easily corruption could have taken hold had Hamlet succumbed to his self-criticisms borne from a heavily patriarchal world that couples strength with violence. 

Shakespeare, therefore, attacks the idea that a man must be willing to kill for honour and perhaps dissuades from the idea of taking revenge at all by the tragic fate almost all the characters end up in in Hamlet and Laertes' pursuit of revenge. This could also be Shakespeare praising a lifestyle of thought and not action, as most direct action taken in the play leads to some sort of tragedy.

If you made it to the end I'd love to hear some opposition!! What do y’all think?

[soreheadinamblemood]

I've kept schtum because I didn't want to jinx anything, but I can share now. I'm in Berlin (!) and I've seen Lars' Hamlet (!!) twice (!!!). Amazing, he's a force of nature. Rambling under the cut

Tonight was with English subtitles, yesterday was without. Two quite different performances for reasons other than that though.

Night one I don't know if it was Lars or the audience who was more on one. First thing off script was he wanted to know why he could see an empty seat for a sold out performance Stopped everything to call out a guy filming on his phone, quite a back and forth as the guy tried to deny it, "What, were you checking your texts?" Twice got people in the front row to hand over their sweets when he spotted them opening them. Told a lady who'd stepped out and was waiting at the door that she should get back to her seat quick because it's an important bit. Hamlet venturing into the audience coincided with an old man leaving, Lars held the door open for him and asked why he was going. Old mate said "Es ist Scheisse". Lars said sorry, and maybe he'd prefer a different piece. Lars then asked if anyone else wanted to leave and his neighbour got up too. From that guy's parting shot I learned the German expression "Nett ist die kleine Schwester von Scheisse". After sitting in their vacated seats for a debrief with Laertes about the reviews, Lars headed back to the stage and noticed someone else in the front row had also gone. He picked up the ticket they'd left behind and was incredulous that they'd paid 50 for front row not to stay. He ran the ticket through with his rapier before the duel. All that culminated in a rapturous standing ovation from the rest of us who stayed.

Second night I was in the front row for, really something to see his performance up close. I won't just list all the actorly superlatives that get bandied around too much, but they all apply legit. And he's, y'know, breathtakingly attractive. So, less unplanned volatility this go around. Until someone had a medical issue and everything was stopped for him to be carried out and an ambulance called. After confirming assistance was with him, they all did an incredible job of picking things back up.

To sum up, two amazing nights of theatre. Richard III next week!

[babyrdie]

hi thanks for accepting the request, the art was very prettyl! since you were imagining that I would ask for a character that you haven't drawn yet… what about odysseus?

Hey again, anon! Here is Odysseus!

First of all, I'm glad you liked the Pyrrha you requested! And yeah, you were right: I hadn't drawn Odysseus yet! At least not decently, I just did a VERY silly sketch of him and Penelope and that's it. Well, let's get to the details of the design since I hadn't drawn it yet and therefore never explained his design.

This Odysseus is a bit post-Odyssey! You were probably expecting a drawing of him as a young man, but Odysseus being one of the people who managed to survive and live happily into old age among the characters of the Trojan War…well, suffice it to say that I have more attachment to his older image than the younger one.

I imagine him being short. I change his height all the time, so at the moment I don't know his exact height. Most people make Penelope tall, but actually my Penelope is short too. I like to imagine that Odysseus, Penelope and Telemachus are a family of little people! After his return, Penelope is so concerned with making sure he's never flesh and bones again that here he has this sort of strong but not very sculpted physique. As he's already older here, that's why his face is not youthful. The boar scar is essential, so it's there. And Homer spent so much time describing his thighs that I made him have thick thighs lol

There are versions in mythology where Odysseus is actually the biological son of Sisiphus and I wanted to make use of that in some way, although I prefer the version where Laertes is the biological father. So I decided to purposely make Odysseus more like his mother Anticleia, so that it wouldn't be easy to deduce who the father is from his physical appearance since he didn't take after Laertes. Him not being similar to either Laertes or Sisiphus would cause rumors of his paternity to increase, which is why he would be referred to as a descendant of Sisiphus by some.

Because he took after Anticleia, who has Hermes in the lineage, I wanted to make some references to my Hermes design (here and here). My Hermes has separate front teeth in a reference to the hare, his sacred animal, and so does my Odysseus, but you can't see it in this drawing because the mouth is closed. The freckles all over his body, however, are also a reference to my Hermes design.

The hat he wears is a pileus because Odysseus is often depicted in ancient art wearing a pileus. And for the head I took a lot of inspiration from this statue:

You can see more about it here.

And again, I'm glad you like what I draw!

[lizardrosen]

I just think it would be cute if Laertes and Osric bickered like an old married couple.

“What do you MEAN you think the Tarzan soundtrack is bad????”

“It’s NOT bad. It’s just overrated.”

“Overrate-??? I am going to have CHILDREN with you someday and what am I going to tell them when their father doesn’t understand the lyrical genius of ‘Strangers Like Me???’”

“Babe, there are BETTER Disney soundtracks, I’m SORRY. I guess our children will have to accept that their other father is too blinded by nostalgia to see that!”

Which one is which? That’s just up to interpretation :]

GOD, how do you just live in my brain, this is exactly what they're like! Hamlet and Osric are even more like this, and in the verse where all three of them are dating sometimes they'll come to him with some dispute and he's just like "you two are so stupid, you're saying basically the exact same thing as each other" and then they call a temporary truce to turn on because he's So Fucking Wrong. (they're fighting about like. the correct way to tie a windsor knot, something that super doesn't matter)

for this particular argument, it's tough to choose. on the one hand laertes likes super cheesy things and is often blinded by nostalgia. but on the other hand, osric's tastes are so carefully manufactured so he'll look competent and put together, but also a little bit clueless so he doesn't have to work as hard at the office, but in private and with people he trusts, he's just as fueled by sentiment and nostalgia, and would be willing to admit to laertes that he likes the tarzan soundtrack even though it's "cringe".

i think i'm going with laertes is pro-tarzan, because i once saw a production of macbeth where during the intermission music fleance sang 'son of man' and in that context it became this ballad of a son who had lost his dad and had to figure out how to carry on now that his life had changed and, well.

[min3tta]

the wedding (part 2)

Gamilia dexiosi (wedding feast)

As night quickly fell, Odysseus led Penelope to the royal dining hall, where all of their family was waiting. As they entered, the guests clapped and cheered.

Two tables were set: one for the men, and one for the women. Odysseus and Penelope split to their respective tables. Servants gave the guests terracotta bowls filled with fish, figs, beans, breads and olives. Other servants held amphoras to make sure all the guest’s cups were never short of wine. 

The feast began when the bride and groom sat down. 

Penelope noticed that Odysseus was busy talking with her father and his brother-in-law, Eurylochus. Every now and then Odysseus would make eye contact with her, both knowing that they would be an official couple in a few short hours. 

“So,” Ctimene, who sat next to Penelope, chimed. “How are you liking Ithaca so far? I am aware it isn’t the grand kingdom of Sparta like you are used to.”

“Oh, no!” Penelope said as she took a sip of her wine. “It is amazing. How nice it is to have an ocean view, to enjoy the sea breezes every day. Everyone has been pleasant.”

“I suppose you are right. I traveled here from the island of Same. The Ionian is all I know,” Ctimene said to Penelope. “But, I am ecstatic that I now finally have a sister-in-law! Odysseus is enamored by you, Penelope. You are all my brother thinks about, truly,” she said, and took a bite of bread. 

Penelope felt a smile creep across her lips. “I am honored to join the kingdom of Ithaca.”

Ctimene squeezed Penelope’s hand. “What an amazing queen you will make. I am so happy for you, dear.”

“Thank you.”

Anakalypteria (the removal of the veil)

After hours of eating and drinking, dusk was rapidly approaching over the kingdom of Ithaca. A voice called throughout the dining hall to the wedding party.

“A moment, if you please,” Laertes stood up. “As our feast is coming to a close, the moment of anakalypteria is approaching.” He faced his son who sat beside him. “Odysseus, my boy, I am so proud of you, and so proud of the great man and king you have become.” He then placed a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder. “You have found a suitable queen for Ithaca … Penelope,” he then faced the woman’s table, where the bride sat with curious eyes. “I am honored that you will join our family. Please, take care of Odysseus, and he shall take care of you. Promise to love each other and respect each other. Provide us with a child to ensure that Ithaca’s roots will grow deep. Congratulations, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir,” Penelope quietly said. 

Laertes raised his cup. “May the gods bless this happy couple, and bless Ithaca! Na zisete!”

The wedding party all raised their cups in return. “Na zisete!” All cups of wine were quickly made empty.

Odysseus got up from his seat and made his way to Penelope.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked her. Penelope nodded and took Odysseus’s hand. He led her to the center of the hall, where all eyes were intently watching the happy couple. 

With their fingers intertwined, Odysseus and Penelope gazed into each other’s eyes. They stood facing each other, feeling each other’s breath on their skin. In unison, they closed their eyes and chanted a prayer to the goddess of marriage.

“Lady Hera, hear our prayer. Queen of Olympus, protector of marriage, of the joining of hearts and the creation of bonds, of the building of home and the finding of family, whose presence honors any wedding day, whose favor graces any marriage, we pray to you and grant to us a joyous union, a love to last, a harmonious home. We ask your blessing on our household. May it be a place of happiness and affection. We ask your blessing on our marriage bed. May it be a place of joy and pleasure. May we grow old together, merry and content. May our words be sweet, and our love be strong. Lady Hera, we ask for your blessing.” 

The couple opened their eyes. The hall remained silent, as if Penelope and Odysseus were the only ones in the room. 

Odysseus, shaking, holding back tears, gently pulled back his bride’s veil. Penelope’s lips started to quiver as their faces grew closer together. 

“My love,” Odysseus managed to whisper, and sealed their marriage with a passionate kiss. 

Cheers erupted from the wedding party as Penelope and Odysseus stood, now in each other’s arms, still in a deep kiss. Their lips parted, but their foreheads still touched. Rose petals were tossed in the air as celebration. 

“My darling husband,” Penelope giggled, in shock that she was now with Odysseus, united as one.

“My darling wife,” Odysseus repeated, and pressed his lips to Penelope’s once more.

Periboea and Icarius ran up to their daughter and engulfed her in a hug. Odysseus saw Laertes give an approving nod to his son from across the room, as if saying “You’ve done well.”

As the Spartans parted, they gently nudged Penelope towards Odysseus again. “Go,” they said to their daughter. “Make Sparta proud. Make Ithaca proud.”

“I-” Penelope started.

“She will,” Odysseus said and grabbed his wife’s hand. “I know she will.” He placed a kiss on Penelope’s forehead. Penelope felt the heat rising in her cheeks. 

Was she dreaming? She couldn’t be. It was all better than a dream.

“My friends,” Odysseus raised his voice so the guests could hear. “Thank you for joining us on such a happy night. Thank you for the well wishes and good company.  It has been a busy day, so it is time for my wife and I to retreat to our chambers.” 

“Wife,” Penelope thought to herself. It would take time for her to get used to such a new word.

[lonewolfel]

No Changing Fate

Also read it here 

Warnings: Character death (a lot of character death, one of these days I’ll write an original story that doesn’t feature character death but today is not that day), child death, graphic depictions of violence and death

Inspired by Epic the musical The Horse and the Infant by Jay Herrans

Iapetos chased after a boar with a spear in his hands. The boar seemed to move impossibly fast through the forest. 

Iapetos reached a small clearing. The learning had the smell of ozone. The air seemed to be charged as if the bolts of Zeus were about to strike. It caused the hair on Iapetos's body to stand on end and a shiver to go down his spine.

"Prince Iapetos" A loud booming voice said. It reminded the young man of the clashing of thunder. 

Iapetos froze as he realized who it was.

He knelt down in respect.

"King of the Gods," Iapetos said.

"You do not belong here. You must learn the truth," Zeus boomed out.

Iapetos looked up in confusion.

"The truth?" Iapetos asked.

"Bring this to Persephone and Hades, and you will learn the truth about who you are," Zeus boomed out.

A bolt of lightning struck before Iapetos. When it dispersed it left blackened scars on the ground and a golden item. 

Iapetos picked up the item. It seemed to be some sort of medallion or necklace. It had a symbol that he couldn't recognize.

The smell and the charge in the air disappeared signaling that Zeus had left. 

Iapotes walked back to the palace that he had been raised in all the while staring at the golden symbol. 

"Iapetos your back!" his little sister, Euanthe exclaimed. 

Iapotes looked up having not realized that he had returned home. 

The 10-year-old girl rushed through the halls. Her brunette hair flowed behind her. She paused and a look of confusion passed over her face. 

"Where's your spear? I thought you were out hunting," Euanthe questioned.

"Oh, I must've left it," Iapetos absentmindedly admitted. 

Euanthe looked at her brother in concern.

"Are you ok? What happened out there?" Euanthe asked.

"Zeus spoke to me," Iapetos admitted.

He continued to walk to his room.

Euanthe gasped in shock.

"Are you the son of..." Euanthe asked.

Iapetos turned around to face his sister.

"No, maybe, I don't know," Iapetos said. 

He continued to walk. Iapetos heard his sister chase after him but paid her no mind. 

"Then what did Zeus want with you?" Euanthe asked.

Iapetos finally reached his room. He grabbed a bag to pack his stuff. 

"That I need to learn the truth and that I don't belong here," Iapetos said.

"Of course, you belong here, you’re my brother," Euanthe said as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Iapetos turned around to face her. He had a knife in his hands.

"Zeus had a reason to tell me that. I have to go to Hades," Iapetos said.

"Hades," Euanthe gasped in horror. She grabbed his arm that held the knife. "That's too dangerous."

"I have to go," Iapetos said. He pulled his arm.

Euanthe grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled it towards her not even realizing that there was a knife now pointed at her.

"You'll die," Euanthe cried. "No one exits Hades' domain."

"I can't just ignore an order by Zeus!" Iapetos yelled.

This shocked the girl enough to stumble forward in shock right into the blade. It pierced her eye. 

Euanthe let out an inhuman cry and then fell limp.

"Euanthe!" Iapetos exclaimed in horror. 

The girl crumbled onto the ground unmoving. 

Guards ran into the room. They froze with a gasp.

"The prince killed the princess," one guard said. 

Iapetos looked down and saw the bloody knife and his hand-stained crimson. 

"No, it isn't what it seemed," Iapetos protested.

"What is going on?" Another voice boomed. This voice came from the elder prince and future King, Laertes.

Laertes entered the room and gasped in horror at the scene.

"It was an accident," Iapetos cried. "I didn't mean to. She slipped."

Laertes' face hardened. 

"The Fates were right. Capture Iapetos he is under arrest for the murder of Princess Euanthe," Laetes ordered.

"Yes, your highness," the guards responded. They moved forward to grab the now criminal prince.

Iapetos grabbed his partly packed bag. He quickly dashed out of his window. He ran through the gardens that he had grown up playing in. The heavy footsteps of guards followed him. They tripped and stumbled over a stray root or fallen branch but kept up. 

Finally, Iapetos reached the back wall of the palace. He quickly scaled it using the uneven rocks as a hold. 

Spears and arrows embedded the wall beside Iapetos. He avoided all of them and jumped off the wall into the forest behind the palace. 

Iapetos knew that he only had a few minutes before the guards will be upon that spot so he ran through the forest not looking back.

~~~

Iapetos returns to the palace shrouded in darkness a month after he had left. His trip to Hades had left him scarred in more than one way.

He knew what he had to do. It was the will of the Gods and the only way to return his family's honor.

Even still Iapetos' heart breaks at what he has to do. They had been the only family that he has had for so long now he was being sent to destroy it. 

Though they made it all the easier because he was now considered a murderer and a traitor. They had already abandoned him so why should he try to fight the Fates for them? 

He sneaks into the palace shrouded by Nyx. Iapetos knew the palace as if it was the back of his hand. He avoided all the patrols and guards. 

Iapetos slipped into Laertes' room. 

The man didn't even twitch. Laertes was always a heavy sleeper and someone who had zero altitudes for was despite his father being a famous and heroic general... a heroic general that slaughtered the entirety of Iapetos' family. 

Iapetos raised his sword to strike the killing blow and yet he couldn't. His arm shook raised over the sleeping form of the man he grew up calling brother. This was the man that would play with him. The man that Iapetos once aspired to be.

He couldn't do this.

Iapetos felt the eyes of the dead watching him as the Goddess of the Dead led him. 

"The ones you seek are just ahead," Persephone said. She placed a hand on Iapetos' shoulder. It was cold and weighed so little. "I'm sorry."

Persephone walked to the side to meet her husband. Hades wrapped an arm around her and with the other beckoned the alive young man forward.

Iapotes walked forward feeling the gaze of the two gods follow him forward. 

Iapetos saw a young woman wearing a torn dress and a man in a soldier's armor caked in blood. The man sees him and a smile that seemed far more like a grimace of pain than anything of joy.

"My son," the man said. 

The woman whirled around and gasped in shock.

"What?" Iapetos asked.

"You're our son," the young woman said.

"The man that claimed you took you after he killed me," The man said

Iapetos shook his head desperately.

"He took his sword and stabbed it through my neck."

Iapetos looked at the sword lodged into the man he had called a brother’s throat. Blood poured out of the wound and out of the sides of his mouth. His eyes were open in horror.

Iapetos withdrew the sword causing blood to drip on both the bed and the floor. With a shaky hand, he dropped the weapon. A choked sob sounded in the back of his throat.

There was no going back from this. 

Iapetos picked up the sword with still shaking hands and left the room. Crimson drops leaving a trail as he went. 

Iapetos walked through the halls effortlessly. His feet carried him to the room that had been the one that belong to the people that he once called parents. 

Only the one he used to call mom was laying in bed, sleeping peacefully. 

Iapetos couldn't even really bring himself to raise the sword. After all, despite everything that has happened she was the one that raised him.

"I was told that you had died. That he killed you. I soon after died of a broken heart," the woman said.

"Why are you telling me this?" Iapetos asked. 

He didn't believe that the gods were trying to play a cruel joke on him. After all, why would they care about him? So why was he being told any of this? 

"You must revenge us," the man snarled.

Iapetos took a step back and shook his head.

"I can't," Iapetos said. "They raised me. They are my family."

"Yet you're the only one that sees it that way," his birth mother said.

"You killed the girl," his birth father said. 

"It was an accident," Iapetos interrupted. 

"I know that and you do, but do they?" his birth father questioned. "To them, it is the prophecy coming true. Damocles will see it as the prophecy coming true. He will have his whole kingdom search for you to kill you in order to save his own family. You will never be safe. You will spend your whole life running if you don't follow through. This is the gods' will, who are you to go against it."

Iapetos pulled out the blade from the woman that had once been his mother's heart rapidly. Tears clouded his eyes, and he stumbled back into the nightstand. 

There was a loud crash, and then the room filled with smoke. He had knocked over a lit candle. 

Flames heated the room as Iapetos let out a sob. He could still hear her singing him a lullaby when he was young and too scared to sleep. 

Iapetos dropped his sword where the blood of mother and son mingled in a morbid greeting. He stumbled out of the room. 

The palace around Iapetos burst into flames around him. He quickly stumbled out of there with tears running down his soot-covered cheeks washing it away. 

"YOU!" A loud snarl sounded.

Iapetos turned around and faced King Damocles the man who raised him. The once great hero that had killed his father in combat and despite the warning of the gods raised him as his own only to turn against him. 

Damocles drew his sword and charged. Iapetos quickly dodged out of the way. Domacles has seen far more combat but old age slowed him and ager clouded his brilliant mind. 

The two of them fought. 

"What do I have to do?" Iapetos sighed. He knew they were right. 

"Kill them," his father demanded. 

"If I may," Hades interrupted. Iapetos froze having forgotten that the two gods were there. "Damocles' future is clouded. You have to kill Aglaia and Laertes but his fate is up to you. All I ask is that you consider killing him."

Damocles was down on his knees. He coughed and blood sprayed across his lips.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Damocles snarled. 

"You should have," Iapetos agreed.

Ultimately, so much pain could have been avoided if Damoces had listened to the gods and killed him as an infant. They both wouldn't have to lose their family. 

Iapetos looked down at the sword at his feet. He picked it up. 

"Everything I have done has been your fault. I wanted none of this," Iapetos said. 

"So what?" Damocles demanded. "Are you going to kill me?"

Iapotes stopped for a moment.

"No, you get to live with the knowledge of what happens when you defy the will of the gods," Iapotes said.

Iapetos turned around and began to walk away. He left the crumbed hero in front of his burning family and throne. 

"COWARD!" Damocles screeched. Iapetos paid the cry no mind.

Iapetos slipped into the darkness of the night. 

Like what you read consider commissioning me

[aaronofithaca05]

Hi! Part 3: the truth of my fic: The first night is out

<-Part 2

“Yes, father” he responded from amongst the crowd.

“What happened?, he bluntly shouted.

“Wait,  better not ask, as my poisoned words were the ones that began your pain”. He said as he was trying to occult his shedding pearls amidst a façade of well.

“Son; come here, you NEVER, NEVER send me poisoned words” I said calmly

“ As honey never spoils” I said while trying to stay put, and then with my breaking throat: “my love to you  will stay as the inmutable stars of the night” Even if you burned all Ithaca, all the lands under Uranus. I said softly; “You will always be my son, my joy, my sun”. I tried to hug him, to tell him everything was as good as ever. Ever

“Then… Why did you evade my question? “. Telemachus' reaction to my promise, to my love, was a question that veiled the sorrows of a fatherless son, of a man whose only memory of me were tales of old, the anger of a naive soul.

“Telemachus, let me..”. I tried to tell him everything but  his impetuous anger cut me, again.

 “You´re Odysseus the man of many turns,” He reprimanded me while shouting as I lowered my head to the floor

“The cunning master of the Danaoi” He added, I assisted

“Breaker of divine's Troy walls”, He added to the list.

“Telemachus, I wa..” He didn't let me end,

“Oh sorry Odysseus son of Laertes” he said while his tears filled his soft face, his little hairs forming pearls of anguish. “I meant Odysseus,the destroyer of cities”. That cut me down to the core, I saw the floor of before impenetrable Troy filled with the blood and bodies of them all, he´s body, staring stiff to the void, the face of an innocent, the face of Telemachus, I couldn´t saved him there, 

“I won't lose you here” I thought.

 I was being killed and gutted by the voice of my son, of our son, of our sweet Telemachus.

“Telemachus, please I´m Oddy…” I was stopped again, trying to say “Telemachus, I´m Odysseus, father of Telemachus, you are my most prized soul, my greatest achievement, no lie, no masterful plan, no horse, nothing can compare to the pride I have and will always have being able to call myself your father”

He then stop, he looked towards where I interrogated the poor little girl and with a heart full of hate he shouted: “Odysseus, Slayer of Circe,

“Slayer of..Circe '', I froze, my expression changed to ingenuity.

He saw the change in face and thought it was “liar” what caught me

“Yes liar, isn't that what you are? How can I call myself the son of a beggar and a liar????!!!!!”

Our blood ran cold, all light faded, all the spring air became the underworld, all stopped. He collapsed like the Walls of the doomed city while I was running to him, with pearls so big that only immortals could have.

He berated, he punched me, he tried to get me off.

“Liar, liar” He shouted if Zeus lighting was contained inside him

“…..father” I kissed him while grabbing his soft looks

“….Πα…i'm sorry” he spoke softly as the clouds

“Don´t be” I said as I looked into his watery eyes while our foreheads were touching, we were for the first time son and dad.

After that, he was still defiant but soft as a young kid (goat), I felt how his factions softened but not his lips, there was anger still inside.

“Telemachus”, I said, trying to rock him as I did before I left home.

“all you said was true, I was a liar, so many people had been sent down under my sword” I whispered, he held me closer and tighter while I felt moisture in my cloth.

“But I didn't kill Circe”, I said.

He pushed me out, his anger, his stream of pearls was rekindled, he was more fierce than any storm I faced, he was tougher than any foe I faced, every monster, even I. 

“Why must you keep lying to me!” he said while hugging himself

“I don´t lie”, “ she's alive” I said, sincerely as my love to him.

“You let that witch live?” Telemachus shouted again.

 “You let the daughter of Helios live to see his father once more” He seemed confused amidst his whines.

“Why would I killed her?, she nurture us to live, she prepared us, she let her home open for us, she is the greatest foe we faced, her dignity and hospitality were an example for all of the civilized” I said convinced and serene in every word; he grew paler with each letter, with each word and his eyes more deep and bottomless than before.

“And the pigs, what about the piGS!!” he clinged to that idea, trying to get me.

“You let your men die?” He put his hand in his heart waiting for my collapse but I was standing up.

“No one died on that island under my watch, only Elaipnor met his fate, for lounging in the roof of her palace and fell asleep a month or two before leaving” then added “the rest perished in Thrinacia”.

“Wait” I could see his confession brimming and humming in his perfect ears.

“then the gray-eyed goddess helped, the sword trick, Circe's curse…It was a lie”.

“What did you say?”. I asked softly and awaited his answer as I awaited the moment of holding him tight forever.

“Friend told me”, he sincerely said.

 “Friend”  I remember that word “friend” but I did not hold it dear anymore, as the friend he talked about I knew who was.

“She told you sweet stories thinking i was going to be here and one day tell you truth”

“The truth”, “The truth”,he scoffed bitterly

 “How many truths are there?” “I only wanted my dad”, “ We only wanted you” he whined as he collapsed again.

“I only wanted you Πα”, Telemachus whispered, hugging my knees.

“I have endured, I stayed strong, I did what I was told”, “but still, your soul wasn't here with us”. he gently spoked as a small creek.

Thanks so much to all of you! I´m tagging to my best friends and special moots:

@jarondont,@iroissleepdeprived, @nikoisme, @perroulisses,@poshgirlsstuff, @katerinaaqu @incorrecthomer, @dootznbootz, @nyx-of-darkness-1620, @sunshines-child, @randomkrab, @ironspdr6700, @fangirlofallthefanthings, @twomanyfandomshelp, @thehighpaladin, @the-decapod, @myblacknightworld, @simugeuge, @itszorrito67, @incorrectatlas @tunguszka20, @dootznbootz , @ironspdr6700

[cleverclove]

"To perform a feint, you thrust your forearm like this, and withdraw your elbow like this."



(also how's New York going? For me the heat is murderous)

"To perform a feint, you thrust your forearm like this, and withdraw your elbow like this."

Laertes panted, his 12-year-old body unfit for the hours upon hours of practice with no breaks. "Father, please. I'm tired," he pleaded, near tears, "and I promised Ophelia I would help her plant her seeds in the garden." Polonius's glare shut him up very quickly. "You will keep fencing until I tell you to. You are not some weak-willed woman, are you, Laertes?"

"...no, Father. I'm sorry."

"Show me how sorry you are by holding the damn foil properly. And don't cry, for God's sake! Perhaps it was you who should have been born a woman, and Ophelia the man."

[olaertes]

⌕   . ˚   ⅋.  「   DAVID CASTAÑEDA.  34.  cis man.  he/him.  」 ENRIQUE  CASTILLO,  otherwise  known  as  LAERTES,  joined  the  libertalia  nine years  ago  as  a  NAVIGATOR.  around  libertalia,  the  CANCER  has  a  reputation  for  being  GENUINE  &  OVERPROTECTIVE perhaps  because  they're  best  known  for  pulling a successful car chase during the mectozuma ii’s feather headdress heist  of   which   they  are  most  proud.  while  preparing  for  a  heist,  they  listen  to  BULLETPROOF HEART  by  MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE. makes  sense  considering  they  remind  me  of:  the roar of a car engine that goes with accelerating speed, an old pair of jeans stained with oil and grease, a family picture tucked safely in his pocket.

biography.

( cw: mentions of fire & parental death )

truth be told, enrique had been an accident. javier castillo & isabella espinoza were a pair of high school sweethearts who had every intention of marrying each others and building a family together. what they hadn’t planned, however, was isabella getting pregnant so soon after turning 20. needless to say, this was a huge surprise to the couple — a joyous one by their books, but also one that had changed the plans they had for themselves, especially when their parents had no interest in supporting their decision to keep the baby.

when enrique was born, both Isabella and javier had graduated from community college. yet, instead of going to university like they had intended, javier decided to start working full time at the mechanic shop he had been working at through college. meanwhile, isabella had gotten herself a receptionist job at a local pediatric clinic. it was rough to build a family when you had come from close to nothing, but they still tried their best to give their son what he needed.

if enrique had to describe his childhood, he’d say it was quite a happy one. he had parents who showered with affection constantly — his father, who always made time to play catch and later taught him how to work on cars when he said he wanted to learn; and a mother, who would get little treats after school when he got a nice score in a test and cheered the loudest when he hit a home run during his little leagues games. he was, for the longest time, an only child who received all his parents love. so when the family had find stability in all sense and his parents decided to have another child, they were concerned with how enrique would react especially with the significant age gap. yet when ariella was finally born, he had adored his sister from the moment he peered into her crib at the nursery. and so, a married couple lived with their two children in their small apartment in the bronx. like any other families, they had their fair share of rough patches & teenaged rebellious antics to go through — but for the most part, they had been happy.

the family went on a trip to celebrate enrique’s 18th birthday, and it had ended with a hotel fire that turned his life upside down. though he and his sister has sustained some degrees of treatable injury, his parents had succumbed to theirs and died, leaving the siblings with each other. while he had previously babysat for ariella, acting as her guardian had been an entirely different thing — one that essentially shifted him to act more as her parents than her siblings.

in another life, enrique would have been a freshmen at university that fall, eagerly starting his study in aerospace engineering. but in this one, he was working at the same auto shop his dad had worked at. it had seemed like the only thing that made any sense, considering he was good at tinkering and modding your own car. the job certainly helped to bring food to the table and kept a roof over their head. still, enrique knew he had to earn more for the sake of his sister’s future, especially when she her teachers were raving about how she has such a brilliant mind.

as much as he loved his sister, he would be lying if he said that the stress of being a breadwinner didn’t get to him at all. and when he was stressed, he fell back to the bad habit he had kept secret since his teen years — he’d sneak out at night in his car and drive, fast. you’d even go to meet up with your friends sometimes and race them, often enough that they’d try to drag you to the local street races happening around town. you had always said no then, but it wasn’t until this expectation to earn money did you start going. he had his fair share of losses, the cash he got when he won were enough to keep enrique coming back.

as he began building up his rep as a driver in the scene, enrique would sometimes get approached for offers that were even less legal than his racing. a driver, that was the only gig he’d ever willingly take, and that was the only capacity he’d be willing to serve during these time. none of the people who approached him had any issues with it, since it meant he’d get a smaller cut from the job. not that enrique minded much either, because he still got a decent enough pay.

to this day, enrique still had no idea how his existence had made it into the professor’s radar. but he supposed some of the small time robberies and heists he managed to pull off was enough to earn him an invitation to join libertalia. but enrique did decide to accept it, even if it was solely for the share he would be getting. his involvement in the libertalia was something he had kept secret from ariella, and he had promised himself he’s quit once she was through with her education. yet, as he got more involved in the heists, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed the fact that he could travel to all the different places and the adrenaline rush that came with each jobs. now that time was almost up… well, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold himself accountable of that promise anymore.

char psd credit: MAGIC AND NIGHTFALL by notoriousgraphics.