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valkyriesryde · 4 years

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Release the Hounds {6/?}

Chapter Six: Am I Supposed to Fight?

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: Both sides are preparing but the question of whether they will actually have to fight is still standing. And everyone has an opinion.

Word Count: ...2,000ish lol

A/N: Sooooo I’m a slack human being but I’m not giving up on this story! Just have a bit of a busy life at the moment hahah here you go fambam please forgive me. I’m going to try and smash out several chapters in the next week before I go on holiday/school starts back up.

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

As Hades stepped into the home of her brother she slipped off her coat and threw it over the back of the couch in the first living room.

“Where art thou my dear brother?” She called through the house and a sweet whistle sounded down the stairs and around her. She dressed and presented herself much more casual than when she met with Thor. She no longer adorned her business attire, dressed in black jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her boots hitting the marble as she climbed the stairs.

Loki’s house is extravagant. The outside something like a greek temple with its decorated ionic columns and statues. The inside much the same in its sense of power. But Loki likes to be comfortable. His home has a, well, homely feel to it. Art adorns every wall, in every corner but the blanket is thrown lazily over the couch, there’s a pile of books on the coffee table and as she walks down the hallway she can smell the sea salt as if they were right next to the ocean. She can hear the horses in his backyard through the open windows. Hades always enjoyed coming to Loki’s home because thats what it was. A home. It wasn’t a place of work, apart from his office, his children come and go as they please, there’s always dishes to be washed and laundry to be folded. She felt welcomed here.

“Since when do you work this late?” She leaned on the doorframe of his office as Loki looked up from his piles of paper, his long black hair disheveled from running his fingers through it.

“I’m a very hard worker excuse you,” he smiled and offered her the seat in front of his desk, reaching into a draw next to him and bringing out two glasses and a bottle of nectar in a beautifully adorned glass bottle. Hades’ eyes lingered on the bottle as she ached for him to just hand the thing to her so she could pour it down her throat. Lord she needed a drink after this week.

“And I’m beloved by all,” her voice was sarcastic and she drooled as he handed her the glass and raised his eyebrows.

“By me especially,” he winked. Loki, forever the cheeky bastard.

“My biggest supporter,” she smiled and they clinked their glasses.

Loki looked back down at his work, his forehead crinkled and his lip pulled between his teeth, she had an inkling to rip out the paper from under him but knew better to disturb him while he thought. It could be important afterall.

So instead her eyes wandered, they moved to the ceiling tall bookcase to his right, spotting some of her favourites amongst his collection. She stood and walked towards the giant fish tank he had to his left and peered in, watching the exotic fish minding their business.

“Why can’t people be more like you,” she muttered under her breath and the red and blue fish with a tail that looked like it belonged to a feather dancer stared blankly back at her.

“They don’t like being stared at,” Loki chimed from his desk, his attention still on his papers. She sighed and fell back into the seat.

“Perhaps if you joined me for dinner and a drink or two I wouldn’t. Why are you working, work is off limits on our nights.” She was getting agitated, her entire week had been filled with work, forgetting about the normal stuff, the addition of the council and that damn god of spring was starting to give her a headache. “I’m sick of work! I just want a night off, please Loki.”

“Well I’m sick of you being treated poorly by assholes who think they’re better.” His voice was stern and she leaned back for a second in shock at it. Loki was not often passionate about things. Unless someone had spoken poorly against him or, in Odysseus’ case injured his son and was just a “lying good for nothing asshole!” Loki fought when it was his reputation on the line, but this, this was different, the last time Hades had seen Loki fight for someone other than himself was when he went by Poseidon and they fought side by side with Thor, then Zeus, against their father. Hades prayed a war would not come of this strife that was forming between the Olympians.

“Thor told me what you’re doing, why didn’t you come to me about this? I would have told y-“

“You would have told me to stop, that it’s for nothing but I’m sorry to say Hades, you’re wrong.”

Steve had his nose buried in his notebook while his mother went on about her campaign to “keep that wicked witch of the Underworld from getting her death grip on the council.” He sketched out the cornucopia from the gates, the flowers that had adorned it. The pages were covered in those sketches, one of her crown, how it was burned into his memory but he didn’t dare draw her face. Currently his pencil shaded a hand, with a vine twisted around it, the thorns piercing its skin and Steve couldn’t help but feel the prickle of the thorns in his own hand.

“Steve!” He jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice. The book slammed shut and he slid into his pocket as she dropped a clipboard into his hands. “Go around the council’s homes, get their signature. Thor needs proof that we will not stand for her to sit with us. We must band together in a time like this. I have no doubt the olympians will agree.” He dropped the clipboard onto the table and shook his head. She paid no attention to him, instead continuing her work as she wrote notes for the debate. “Sing your name too, we can’t forget about ourselves.”

He picked up the clipboard and walked out the door making his way out of the house towards Bucky’s home first.

Bucky’s house always confused Steve, the interior and furniture changed every couple millennia but the outside, the general idea of it was always the same and it was never extravagant. Most homes in Olympus didn’t change much, they just added things to keep up with the times. Bucky’s home was basically a shack. A cabin in the woods. A beach house with the lake view to match. Made of dark wood with a porch that stretched around the entire front of the house. Bucky’s home was one that matched its owner in its entirety. Bucky was a relaxed man, he took things as they came and he was never very serious. It was one of the reasons Steve enjoyed his company so much because when his mother was up his ass or his work was being exceptionally hard Bucky was there with a pat on the back and a drink in his hand inviting him to watch the sunset over the water.

They were best friends, could always count on one another no matter what, Steve knew that Bucky had his back always, and so he knew now that no matter how much Bucky disapproved of the situation he would still back Steve.

“You’re mother is going to kill you.” Bucky sat leaning on his knees on the couch, his beer long forgotten about on the coffee table as he held the clipboard in one hand shaking his head at Steve.

“Pretty sure she always kind of wants to kill me.”

“Never. You’re her special little boy, her one perfect creation,” Bucky cocked a smile at his friend who rolled his eyes back.

“Shut up,” Steve leaned back and sipped at his own beer, watching it spin in his hands. It was a solid plan, if he went to the right people it would work, he could go behind his mother and her campaign and plead Hades’ case. Maybe even talk to Loki, though he wasn’t sure if Loki would believe him. He wasn’t overly sure if anyone would believe him.

“You already know I’m on your side Steve. I know Hades, I remember the last time she sat on the council. She’s smart, she has the knowledge and the authority, she deserves to be there, but the younger gods, the once who have forgotten what she did, the ones that have never worked with her. They don’t know. They eat out of Demeter’s hands with all her bullshit about satan and how we ‘don’t need the dead in the business of the living’,” Bucky mocked Demeter, he was never afraid to do that in front of Steve, at first he felt slightly weird about it, like his mother would know if he ever spoke a bad word about her but he soon realised the Bucky was safe, he could be himself and say what he wanted without consequences, well, with little consequences.

Steve thought about what Bucky had said, he knew that Bucky would be on his side, Bucky had never not shown support for Hades herself, just, ya know, the stupid shit Steve did in Hades…

But something stayed with Steve. ‘the ones that have never worked with her’, had Bucky worked with Hades? When would Bucky have to work with her? Bucky worked with the sun, he worked with prophecies and medicine, none of which concerned the dead.

“Start with Becca, she and I are one of the same, Pallas-Nat, she’ll be on your side too, I know she’s already talked to Loki about it. That’s who you should go to after, to him, if he knows, if he has confirmation from Nat, I know they hate each other because of Athens and Odysseus but he trusts her word, he trusts that she’ll choose the winning side.” Bucky went on and on about who Steve should see, who he knew that would be on his side.

He listened intently, took note and made a plan of what he should say to each. To Becca, goddess of the hunt, the best way was to talk to her about Bucky, they always fought side by side. To Natasha, goddess of wisdom, it was going to be harder. But if Bucky was right then she already agreed with Steve, they just needed to join forces.

Hades,

I don’t know when you’ll get this, I plan on giving it to Peter to pass on, I know I can trust him to get this to you safely. There’s five days before the council debates and I thought you would appreciate an update as to what is happening in Olympus.

I imagine you have your own ways, maybe spies, Loki has probably discussed matters with you also. He said he had told you he would fight whether you liked it or not, how you told him that he was stubborn. You said I was stubborn as well, I guess I am, but I can’t help fighting for what I believe in. I believe in you. I believe that you should have a say and so do many of the others, Loki, Becca, Natasha, and Jane all agree with me. I think we actually have a shot but Loki thinks it will take your appearance to convince Thor and the lesser gods and nymphs that will be present.

I hope to see you there, please.

Yours,

Steve

Hades and Sam sat side by side on the balcony that overlooked the gates. They watched as night engulfed them and there was an eery silence between the two. A fresh argument still sitting between them, two sides of the same fight.

Hades’ mind was fighting with itself, her guard was being torn down brick by brick as Loki and Steve tried to convince her to stand before the twelve Olympians. But Sam wasn’t a fan of the idea.

“What if it’s a trap,” he argued, “we don’t know what Demeter has up her sleeve,” he said, “we don’t need them!” He raised his voice and she let him get it all out.

“Are you finished yet?” She brushed her hand over her dress and looked at him as Sam nodded. “You’re right.”

Sam was shocked at what she said, he expected her to rationalise her reasons, he expected her to tell him to mind his own business, to tell him that she would stand up for the Underworld. But she didn’t.

“I’m what now?”

“You’re right Sam. Everything about this is stupid. The living and the dead shouldn’t be mixed, bad things happen, bad things like husbands wanting to resurrect their wives, like people thinking they can make deals in order to mess with what is natural. They don’t respect us or what we do here, you’re right, it could be a trap. Demeter will make it a living hell for myself and the rest of you here if she can. You’re right, we don’t need them, we run things differently here, our systems aren’t the same.”

“Then what…” Sam looked at Hades in awe, there was fire in her eyes and he knew that look, she was sick of being undermined, she was angry, she was determined and if he knew her as well as he thought he did he knew what that look meant. She had a plan. “Then why are you considering it?”

“Because they need us.”

Chapter Seven: Here Comes Trouble

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#release the hounds #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers au #greeks myth au #persephone!steve rogers x hades!reader

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

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My unpopular opinion: Chiron is a horrible teacher, protector, whatever. He’s as bad dumbledor. He often manipulates children and put them in danger? Also is RR really trying to tell me not one single demigod from before percy’s generation made it to adulthood? Not even demigods of minor gods? If not then why haven’t we heard from them, why weren’t they called to fight in the war so that literal children didn’t have to? I have more but I’m not brave enough to post them lol

Fuck, I gotta check my asks more often. Too much stuff laying around and oh please people! Send your stuff in! Don’t be shy! It’s so interesting to see what’s on your mind! Let’s have that conversation and ask me!! :D I mean a bunch of people agreed and disagreed with my stances (Part 1/Part 2), let’s see how I feel about yours!

Anyway HERE WE GO BOYS! LET’S GO LESBIANS LET’S GO!

LET’S HAVE THAT WHOLE DAMN ESSAY!

Chiron is clearly a self insert from Riordan. I mean come on…

That’s a solid Chiron if I see one. Which is pretty ironic as Chiron’s the shitty teacher who we all know and love. Got something to admit, Riordan? You as a former teacher? HMM?

Hiding incompetence under the disguise of the gentle old wise teacher is definitely something that Dumbledore and Chiron share. Chiron is the old centaur who lived for aeons and helped out the most famous heroes of their times, so shouldn’t modern times be considered to be an easier job for him? He’s barely present, highkey vague and has absolutely no problems with tossing children literally out into the open across the entire fucking US and A to clean the gods’ bathroom messes.

Had the heroes been in their 20s like in the original myths (or even older) it would’ve made more sense to let them find their own ways. It would be rude, but somewhat okay. You could expect adults to find the way and connect the dots. But this is just messing with a bunch of 12 year olds because you can at this point.

Chiron is that supposed sweet teacher that just fucks up. We all had one, you know the one. Seems gentle and nice and but has clearly chosen the wrong job. Don’t know if that’s the trauma of living that long and/or seeing kids dying constantly that’s hitting him in the back of the head.

I have the feeling that people are projecting their teacher fantasies on to him just like step-father fantasies that include Paul. Because we want a guide who is trustworthy, we want an authoritative figure that we can share our concerns with and who guides us to solid solutions without betraying our trust.

But like I said, he’s essentially sending out kids to deathly missions and encouraging deep traumas. Yes, we can partially blame Chiron, but most of the blame goes to the gods who enable and encourage this weird dynamic. Would all of them straight up cut the bullshit and mostly resolve their own issues without using their children as pawns, it would’ve been easier for everyone involved. Additionally, there are many kids in camp to keep busy, look after and care for. I don’t know how many there were pre-TLO but I’d assume the number was in the hundreds? Of course, in larger cabins are camp counsellors that help out and guide next to camp schedules. But since Percy’s the only kid in the Poseidon cabin I guess that thought went south? Percy being the special kid would actually mean that there should be a focus on him unless you’re going for the “I’m neutral” spiel. Chiron knew from day one that Percy was walking Poseidon seed, come on.

Also like I somewhat implied, seeing people die left and right might have impacted Chiron to make him feel indifferent/despressed (could also be a stretch, who knows). Which isn’t an excuse, but might explain some takes. Explaining the same stuff for millennia in its essentials is probably getting tiring.

I think this is the third time that I mentioned it on my blog but showing and telling are the most powerful story telling concepts/fundamentals and you see Rowling and Riordan constantly failing at that which is concerning. Instead of Chiron (or Dumbledore) just simply getting down to the point and telling and explaining stuff briefly, he only eludes, vaguely formulates and it is simply confusing especially for a child in a brand new environment who just lost his mother (if we’re speaking about TLT). This does nothing but add more stress in such a fragile situation especially when a new and bigger threat makes its way.

There’s also the discussion on how much of Greek myth Percy actually gets. He has the basic/ obvious knowledge which many tend to forget. He doesn’t come in with no knowledge. He had Latin classes back at the academy, he studies with Annabeth, he knows some of the monsters. What he simply doesn’t know, is the magic of it all. That is the most confusing part for him.

The actual magic is not explained, which it doesn’t have to be in all of its entirety, but needs to be addressed somehow and gradually.

Percy asking a simple question like how the camp stays sunny and covered 24/7 and how the wardens work and Chiron casually sitting here like you a stoopid one

doesn’t help.

What many people forget: Magic doesn’t erase logic. Even in a magical setting, unless clearly stated, there has to be some kind of logic to connect the dots. It doesn’t need to be a clear cut A to B, but it should be comprehensible for both the readers and the characters in a particular situation. And that’s just not happening for Percy as the character. This also sets up the premise of Percy being ”stupid” which he isn’t. He is surrounded by incompetent teachers and staff that don’t bother telling him how things work and assume that he’ll just manage.

Yeah. Both Dumbledore and Chiron are awfulness in a sweet calm disguise.

Onto part two of the ask. I have had so many talks with people on that exact problem. It simply boils down to one issue:

Rick Riordan‘s inconsistency in world building and setting. The story telling doesn’t make any sense.

So kids are dying like flies before 18 but many are also super famous and in powerful positions? Many are historical figures that made it well over 18? Make that make sense. Also was WW2 supposed to be kicked off by some 12 year olds with that logic? The biggest man made catastrophe of the modern era boiled down to a bunch of fighting kids? No. We all know it. Just simply no. I actually don’t mind the WW2 background but Riordan should’ve given it another thought and be a bit more sensitive…? Like the whole fascist gang being team Hades? Uhh… sure…. nope.

Also the same logic applies to Civil War? You’re telling me a bunch of kids were supposed to have started this stance? Who was for and who was against slavery then? What in the actual fuck? Using children as child soldiers to stand in for these large complex historical issues that stretch over years and show many of humanity’s horrifying sides is just….eh.

No. This whole thing about campers dying as soon as they reach the magic number of 18 are either bedtime stories to scare the kids or toughen them up orrrr my guess, Riordan actually managed yet again to fuck up his own lore.

It’s the same logic with New Rome. You have a whole city full of adults but have a few kids run that bitch? You did your ten years of service as a child soldier and then do one of these?

As if adults magically exit this world. Like is that the reason why Percy’s been 17 for a whole damn decade? Because otherwise he gotta hand riptide in and all of the boys scout medals he has collected so far? Adults would’ve had the experience and expertise to win those fights but it would break the magic and charm of the books that a bunch of kids are saving the world for the younger demographic. Let’s do not forget that the targeted audience of the books are middle schoolers. Makes somewhat sense with PJO but with HOO Riordan really shot himself in the leg. He should’ve matured the OG characters at least.

(Also speaking about the actual myths again. A good chunk of them died in their 20s/30s/40s. Odysseus guided as an old man. The heroes weren’t twelve and dipping by the age of 16. The Trojan war went on for 10 years for example. So whereas the real Perseus lived a longer life and had a somewhat happy ending in comparison to his peers, he wasn’t the only one that made it into adulthood.)

Riordan mixing up his own lore is just a shame. Yes, it’s human and he already gets a lot of flag for other stuff. I also get it as a writer with my fanfic where I really have to scroll up to search tiny details that I’ve embedded and not noted down. Perhaps it’s my inner capitalist speaking, but for I’m way more forgiving towards a free product, a gift like a fanfic, rather than something I’ve paid actual money for when it comes to this. The process of publishing a book is large. You mean to tell me that there was no editor at Disney that bothered to fact check? Riordan got a check from us all and doesn’t even bother looking up his own stuff. A little bit more effort, Ricardo. Please. You have an entire damn wiki you could use to check for free if you’re too lazy to read your own books/don’t use authors softwares. Like what?

It’s stupid. You know it, I know it. And as you can see, I fully agree with you.

#ask #ask me anons #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #chiron #chb #rr crit #rick riordan #hoo #heroes of olympus #my rants #camp half-blood #dumbledore #pjo hot takes

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mistahstroke · 4 years

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❝ D E AT H S T R O K E ❞ … LOADING FILE …

S L A D E J O S E P H W I L S O N ;

Full Name: Slade Joseph Wilson

Alias: Deathstroke

Age: 54

Gender: Male

Birth date: ████████

Birth Place: ████████ ████████

Current Residence: Manhattan, New York City

S L A D E J O S E P H W I L S O N ;

Hair: White

Eyes: Dark Brown

Disabilities: Blindness in one eye, Right

Build: Muscular, Super Soldier Physique

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: American

Alignment: Neutral, actions can be conclusive to a Villain

Identity: Secret/Not Secret, depends on the individual

S L A D E J O S E P H W I L S O N ;

Education: ██ ████ ███████ ██████ ██ █████████

Family: ██████ ██████, mother, deceased Charles Wilson, father, deceased (Killed by Slade) Wade Defarge, half-brother, deceased Adeline Kane, ex-wife, deceased ███████ ██████, mother of rose, alive Grant Wilson, son, deceased Rose Wilson, daughter, alive Joseph Wilson, son, alive

Marital Status: Divorced

Employment (Former): ██████ ██ █████████, Mercenary, Bounty Hunter, Gun for Hire, US Army

Employment (Current): Bounty Hunter, Mercenary for Hire

Affiliation(s): ██████ ██ █████████, US Army, ███████ █████

Preferred Weapons: Promethium Broad Sword, various guns, knives, and grenades

Equipment: Varies. Sometimes, the Ikon Suit which absorbs kinetic energy. Or Armored Suit with chain metal armor underneath, belts and straps packed with ammunition, knives, grenades, and various other weaponry. Broad sword made of promethium, attached to back. Helmet or mask hides half of his face, because of blindness in right eye. (Picture attached) and (Picture attached)

Abilities: -Expert Combatant in various forms of combat (martial arts, unarmed combat, etc) -Master marksman in various firearms -Master in weaponry (particularly in swordsmanship and firearms) -Tactical Analysis -Acrobatics -Stealth

Powers: -Super Soldier Physiology (enhanced senses particularly of hearing and smell, enhanced agility, enhanced durability, enhanced reflexes, enhanced speed, enhanced stamina, enhanced strength) -Enhanced Intellect (subject uses 90% of his brain) -Accelerated healing

P A S T

Slade Wilson was born on ████████ in ████████ ████████ to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. His mother was “weak”, he said, and his father abandoned him as a child. Charles Wilson, a former CIA agent, was believed to be on a mission when he’d gone missing, but no record of the mission was ever recorded, nor found. Charles was later found, defected to the ██████ ██ █████████. He had become something called Odysseus. Slade later found him and killed him. He still believes Charles left because he chose to, and Slade doesn’t seem to remember his half-brother.

Slade has shown in his intellect and personality, that he is an individual capable of survival. His father’s abandonment and unstable home may be why, but it’s not conclusive. Slade may have always been independent. However it may be, Slade Wilson was determined to enlist in the U.S. Army. Later, it was found Slade had lied about his age on his papers, and ran away from home. Instead of being discharged, he was told to stay. His talents and skills in guerrilla warfare were far superior than any other soldier they’d ever seen. He was tested over and over and promoted over and over by his superiors.

His ex-wife, Adeline Kane, was an Army Squadron Leader and instructor, who eventually trained Slade and took him under her wing. He impressed her, demonstrating his combat and skills, while high marks by Kane were left in this profile. In surveillance, you can see his fighting style sometimes resembles Kane’s style. What we did not anticipate was how dangerous their relationship would be. Slade would be promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and sometime later Slade married Kane. They would divorce, we don’t know why.

His first son, Grant Wilson, would become the first recorded Ravager. We’re not sure what happened, other than Slade finished his contract, after Grant was killed. The death of his son clearly affected him, to the point that he won’t talk about it. His second son, Joseph Wilson, also appears to be a heavy subject, but he is be more willing to talk about Joseph. “Joey” he said, in a psychological evaluation. Joseph Wilson is mute. Maybe Slade had something to do with Joseph’s disability….we don’t know. But Slade has shown signs of guilt, for both his sons. Grant and Joseph Wilson are children from his first marriage to Adeline Kane.

His daughter, Rose Wilson, was born out of wedlock. Her mother, ███████ █████, Slade appeared to have relations with, while on assignment. He won’t say he abandoned Rose, most likely due to the comparison to his father. Because she was raised without her father, it may appear that way. Rose would go on to take up the mantle as Ravager. We don’t know how many there are. From surveillance, she is the one he communicates with, the most, of his family. They don’t always get along, or not at all, understandably. Slade appears to have a disconnect with his children. Just as he is disconnected with everyone else.

Slade was a good soldier. Excellent soldier. The perfect soldier. His superiors asked him to volunteer for a secret medical experiment that was said to be a defense against the enemy’s Truth Serum. He agreed. It was really our attempt to make metahuman super-soldiers. He was lied to - but he was the perfect candidate. Something else we hadn’t anticipated: a violent response to the serum. It broke his mind and body, then built him back up. Stronger than before. But that would happen later. The immediate results were Slade’s more aggressive, violent, and enraged behavior. This aggression would remain with him, long after the experiment ended. Slade would go on to continue this as Deathstroke…

We deemed the experiment a failure, and Slade was limited to a desk job. We continued to monitor him, but what was the point? We thought. Our experiment had failed, until it hadn’t. Enhanced, to a human’s peak, we did it. We did it. Accelerated healing healed what else was left, and our perfect soldier was made even better. Slade’s enhanced mind allowed him to use 90% of his brain, and has shown, together in combat and completing his “contracts”. We made a weapon…that even we couldn’t handle. His mind remained broken. Even though we made him smarter, stronger, his mental stability, emotions, crumbled. We wouldn’t call it crazy, we’d call it violent. All Slade has now is aggression, a violent streak, and blood lust. He still has some sort of sense of humor, but we would highly advise citizens to avoid all contact with this man. He is unstable. We’re not sure if humor or violence will unleash out of him, next.

We’re not sure what happened. We were told Slade was discharged, disobeying orders, trying to save another soldier. Wintergreen, his friend. Slade disappeared, becoming what we only know now as Deathstroke.

P R E S E N T

We now have somewhat of a picture of what Slade has been up to. He’s made several enemies of heroes and villains, in Gotham alone. Enemies of the Justice League, ██████ ██ █████████, and the Titans alike, though he seems to have a personal history with the latter. He is a formidable foe against the Batman, and vice versa. The mobs are afraid of him, but almost incessantly ask for his business. The citizens are oblivious, only knowing him simply as Slade Wilson. Slade has built a system of “contracts” as Deathstroke, research has shown, offering his “services” for monetary value. He is a very weathly man. His rates must be high.

Physically, he’s gotten better. Mentally, he’s gotten worse.

CLASSIFIED: Although this information is classified and has been redacted throughout this file, for classified reasons, if you can read this, then you have been granted access to this information. If you need to know everything about Slade Wilson, then you have to know about one of the most dangerous groups in the world, the League of Assassins. Created and headed by Ra’s Al Ghul, the League of Assassins are an army of assassins, mercenaries, some of the world’s greatest martial artists, who’s sole purpose is to eliminate evil in the world. They are not superheroes. They’ve had questionable tactics as to how they’ve tried to achieve their goals, and questionable team members too. We’re not sure if Ra’s still heads the organization, we’re not sure if they even still exists. But Slade was once a member. We don’t know why he would join the group, whether power or boredom, it’s important to note because our weapon made it through, he survived the League. This information also makes him a much more violent asset, be careful if your group tries to bring him in.

CLASSIFIED: Slade rejoined the League of Assassins once more, but information told us it was forced. An ultimatum of some sort, we don’t know. Only Slade knows. After one year, he left. He’s an independent mercenary again.

After the Superhuman Registration Act, Slade hadn’t changed his routine. The Superhero Civil War was destructive, we lost contact with Wilson. The mutants fought back, headed by Magneto, still no contact with Wilson. He’s smart, he had to have avoided confrontation with either groups, mutant and hero alike. There was no way he could’ve - I digress. When a second accord ratification occurred and Genosha was born, we found Slade. Back to his ordinary life, if that’s what you would call it. The Accords have not only affected the heroes, it’s affected Slade, to some degree. He’s added an old occupation to himself, Bounty Hunter. This explains why we haven’t seen him don the mask of Deathstroke in some time. Government and hero oversight must make him cautious, maybe. It certainly slows down business, I’m sure, in Slade’s eyes. Our weapon has to survive. If he can’t? That’s when we step in.

N O T E S (OOC)

Hello! I’m Mipsy (she/her)! A gamer girl, Marvel and DC fan, Netflix binge fanatic, anime fan, movie fan especially horror movies, and lover of all things creative (music, art, writing, and rping)!

Slade is a mix of various comics and my own headcanons. I pull from a little bit of everything, even a little bit from Teen Titans (2003) from Cartoon Network. So don’t ask me which comics I use, heh. There’s a lot of comics, am I right? I took some liberties with Slade. Call them headcanons. Headcanons I’ve established from playing Slade for so long!

Mun ≠ Muse. Slade can be vulgar and rude, but that’s an understatement. He can be sociable, he can carry a conversation with others, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he likes you. Slade very much believes himself to be a good man, and sees Deathstroke as a job. Many of his enemies see him as a monster, a villain, but that’s because many don’t separate Deathstroke from Slade. Which is completely understandable! Slade’s done some pretty bad things, as Deathstroke and not. His character is a complicated one, not a cookie cutter straight character. His true alignment is neutral, but he can play the “hero” or the “villain” at anytime. Depends on who hired him for the job, which makes him an exciting character to rp! He has his own strict moral code that he follows, so he can’t be bothered with squeaky clean heroes or small time villains. But Slade can be reasoned with. He can carry a conversation when he wants to. Anyway, all that to say, Slade rarely likes anyone so please don’t hold that against the mun!

Slade is a simple man. The type of man who enjoys moments of peace in his life. He’s wealthy, but doesn’t flaunt his wealth like other billionaires. When he isn’t working, Slade really isn’t that bad at all. Just an old man who wants to drink his coffee and read his newspaper, thank you. He’s also quite humorous and a bit of a ladies man! Call it charming or not, he’s attractive enough, despite his age, for women to lay in his bed constantly.

He’s got a lot going on in his head. Guilt and being unstable are his biggest problems. As you’ve read, the super soldier serum really screwed him up. His body and mind were broken, and in effect a new kind of aggression was born within him. Makes him a bit of a monster, but it’s a monster Slade has decided to live with.

As you can already tell, I write alot! One reason I decided to join is I saw a few of you who write lots and I thought ‘I won’t be judged! Yay!’. But don’t fret! I can write paras and multi-paras, I’m just no good at one liners. No need to match length with me! Just...don’t be surprised if I write a lot back.

If you’d like to plot, DM me on discord! I’m so excited to be here! Can’t wait to rp with everyone!

#about #⊕ »»—— MEANER THAN MY DEMONS. ( intro )#this is...a novel #>_>

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goldenart0 · 4 years

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I am someone who believes that most stories would do better if there was a character (specifically protagonist) who just puts all of there points into charisma. Like, I love villains that are just Manipulative Bastards (like MCD Zane, brilliant character and villian. A dick, but well written), but honest to god having protagonists doing those things is equally as awesome to me.

And there’s also kinda this thing with Oscar ending up giving characters morality crises (I specifically saw on thing with Neo and Cinder as like a ‘what if Neo and Cinder ended up kidnapping Oscar but he just ends up giving them a morality crises) because baby. But then I thought, okay that, but more on purpose. Like specifically trying to get people to have morality crises or just not kill him.

So of course I put two and two together, and ended creating a list of reasons I think it makes sense for Oscar to be the kind of character with all point into charisma and such.

1) It fits his actually character so far.

Oscar from what we’ve seen always tends to try talking over nearly any other plan. In V5 he got Ruby to kinda open up a bit. Durning his fight with Hazel in V5 after learning Hazel’s story he tries to convince Hazel to move on and not blame anyone other then his sister for it (“did she know the risks?”). V6 he tried talking to Jaune after the group told JNR about Salem. And in V7, while everyone else was either fighting someone or trying to get to safety, he went to talk to and convince Ironwood to stop what he’s doing. There have been quite a few times where this tactic has failed, but the point still being it’s what he nearly always defaults to. Talk and convince other as opposed to jumping to punching them. Also, in V7 when everything was kinda falling apart in Atlas while they were at the party and James was panicking because the plan was falling apart, Oscar was the one to help James realize (maybe even help come up with a plan) that this isn’t as bad as it seems and that they can turn in around. This isn’t just plain optimism, this is taking the scene and finding a way to make in work in your favor. Which I’m sure is something that will come real handy soon. On that note, since (I’m like 90% sure) we’re out of act two and into act three, things will start to look up a bit more for our protagonists. And by most means they are in a very bad situation right about now. But as we’ve seen, bad situations can be turned good in you think right.

1.5) Also, he’s not the best fighter. And he knows this. In volumn six he specifically comes into the ship with Maria to help by watching from above. He doesn’t work well by being in the front lines, and he knows that. Besides this group needs someone who can deal with, ya know, people and most of them not really seem to fill that role quite that best (I know ruby can deliver her speeches in moments if need, but could she handle a professional meeting or discussion? I think not).

2) It’s not a typical story path.

These traits of making situations work better for you and convincing other to do things you’d like (ie.dont kill me) tend to be traits more given to villains as opposed to heroes. Think about it. How many villain to you know that manipulated and cunning compared to heroes. Not much in this day and age. But RWBY has done this kind of thing before. Take Ruby for example. Just looking at her we see dark colors, a cloak, a not typical hero weapon. But then we meet her and? It’s a bouncy girl who loves weapons, loyal to her friends, and with a spark that just won’t go out. She does not seem like what we’d expect by just given her design. Oscar himself already does this to some degree. He is the actual definition of a chosen one protagonist. And yet he is not the protagonist at all, and honestly that makes this idea even more fun. As I said, this is a trait that villains tend to get. Chosen one heroes never really get this, they fight to cunning villain instead. So seeing that flipping of traits and breaking of tropes is wonderful to me, and I love it and I hope RWBY never stop doing it.

3) Greek Mythology:

There are two main kinds of heroes in Greek mythology (at least as we’ve been able to find and collect, mythology is Fucking Weird sometimes. Most times history and time don’t really help much). The prideful one, who gets destroyed by their own hubris and the cunning one. Salem falls very much into the first of those. She’s like a Bellerophon, trying to reach the gods but being struck down, or an Icarus flying to close to the sun. Oscar on the other hand seems to be a bit more like Odysseus, may not physically be the strongest, but damn he was smart enough to get out of many bad situations. Or Heracles who, despite what modern media tends to show him as, was really fricken smart. The dude managed to trick Atlas into taking the sky back by basically saying he’d take it back but then went “fun fact! I lied. Bye!”. He figured out how to take down enemies many thought were immortal though smarts and figuring out their weaknesses. He realized when he couldn’t physically do something, found a way to do it, and won some horse along the way. Ancient Greece really liked to say, Brawns won’t do you shit if you don’t have the brains to back then up, and even when as far to go with that brains were more important then brawns at points. Also, remember that story with Atlas and Heracles I just told you? Well I mean they are in Atlas and they need to find some shiny relics...

4) There will be no victory in strength:

One of the main themes in RWBY is how you can’t just fight your way out of everything. Now the main group hasn’t quite realized this yet, hence why they were so upset about the Salem thing. But Oscar is the epitome of this idea. He doesn’t go straight to fighting the majority of the time, and tries to talk with people and convince them to change. Now I’m not saying he should try that with Salem, I highly doubt that’ll work, but honestly it would probably work with most of the other antagonists in the series. (“I don’t need to be able to beat you in a fight, I just need to be able to convince you to fight someone else”).

5) Plans

Honestly, quite a few of the groups in RWBY are not the best planners. The protagonists a) tend to only think about what to do immediately and b) go to fighting first. They also don’t really back up plans, just kinda wing it of plan A doesn’t work. Ironwood is very rigid in his plans, both as not being able to deal well is the plan fails, and in letting other people bring up other ways to handle something. But as I say earlier, Oscar was the one to convince Ironwood that not all hope was lost and that new plans can be made out if the ashes of the old one. It’s sort of a “think ten steps ahead, but also look out for any opening and play with the hand you’re dealt” kind of thing. Because taking chances when you see that and bending a situation to fit what you need is very much a more manipulative move, but also can be very helpful. Especially is current plans are failing. Or everything is very very bad at the moment. And Oscar is the only we’ve really seen to something like that. Everyone else just tends to find a way that works and just stick with it, not really making room to be flexible. Flexibility is important you guys.

6) Possible Semblance:

I think one thing most of us all agree on is that there is no way that Oscar can just be holding in all of his emotions and just, like, be fully mentally ok at this point in time (okay honestly none if the kids are) and I at least would like for him to just snap. And I think a main part of that will be not having people listen to him (ie. James just shooting him instead of listen to what he had to say) and not being seen as himself and who he is. And we know that Semblances tend to relfect in a person. With all that being said, there is a power that could manage to not only hit that current issues Oscar’s having mentally, but also with the while ‘convincing others’ part. Glamour. Now I might be the only one that read about this because of what I’ve found online, but Fae Glamour, as well as being able to make you look different, can also ness with peoples brains a bit. Just like, some making you believe something different here, some changing if your perspective on reality there ya know? Oh if you’ve ever read the series, The Invisible Library (I recommend you do if you like fantasy, the multiverse, fae, dragons, etc.), the librarians in that have the ability to make this to things, the farther from what it’s normally be like the more effort it takes. Kinda like that. This also ties in with Oz general Fae-like thing. I’m not joking he’s very much like a Fae. (This would also tie into my next point woo transitions).

7) Conflict:

As has been said before, these sorts of things are not usually hero traits. And there are definitely people on the group who may not be the most okay with someone doing things that aren’t fully morally right all the time and that could very well cause some issues. Issue that is even occur would probably be dealt with in a more timely manor but still. (Also the FNDM might not like it as much as well, cause no one seems to understand that morality isn’t just black and white).

I think that’s all? I might end up adding more is I remember or think of it. Well thanks for surviving my ramble if you did read it all

#rwby #oscar pine #rwby theory #basically he’s a slytherin #like a Manipulative Bastard but Neutal Good instead Neutal/Lawful Evil #part of me is like #he wouldnt use much cause precious cinnamon roll #but another part is #MCD Zane but just on the good side of dnd allinment chart #itd be fun if that were the case #i doubt it but itd be fun #also this whole thing would probably make him a bit more involed with planning and such #so thats good for the lancer thing

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solkraka · 3 years

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excerpt from On Art // A Hero in Flight

Understanding heroes enables us to understand those aspects of ourselves we agree with most. We tend to ask children what their favourite heroes are, but the qualities of those heroes we idolise as children tend to be those to which we aspire as we grow. This has been the case throughout history; Gilgamesh inspired who knows how many lads to strive towards displaying magnificent feats of strength, Odysseus towards cunning and ingenuity. Tristan and Isolde, with their unyielding love, inspired how many burgeoning couples; how many generations of people were galvanised into adhering to their moral and spiritual law after reading of Moses?

The names and contexts of heroes changes with our understanding of ourselves as a whole – and yet, the hero as the embodiment of our greatest selves remains, a perpetual adaptation. One of the ways in which heroes carry our aspirations is in their ability to fly when we cannot innately do so. Superman speeds his way through the skies in the span of heartbeats; Spider-Man slings his way through a city with (most of the time) grace. Even those who cannot fly innately have their ways of ascending, even if for brief moments: Iron Man has his engineered suits, while the Batman can shoot his way into the sky. Therein lies a nuance of our heroes, then: the way heroes fly indicates something about them, and thus about those who enjoy them.

What started as mere leaps and bounds for Superman evolved eventually into a continuous and autonomous flight. He has become powerful enough to not only outrun and outleap every person on the planet, but to sustainably defy gravity itself. In many ways, it’s more than that. From a practical sense, the best way to explain Superman’s flight is to say that he carries his own gravity relative to himself, which explains his ability to hover, rather than merely leap and descend. Gravity is the weakest of the greatest forces in the cosmos, bending even light to its will – and yet, unlike us, Superman is able to defy it on a whim, enabling him to fly through space, to hover above a city, to catch a crashing plane.

What might be equally fascinating are the implications of Superman’s form when he flies. If you were to don a kid in a cape and ask them to fly as Superman does, they would more than likely extend their fists over the head and zoom onwards. This gesture, throwing up one’s hands in an exhilarating moment, with the feeling of the wind soaring past you, is identical to that of those who have, despite the odds, garnered victory. This in itself seems meaningless; Superman, of all people, deserves to throw up his arms in the sign of victory, for that’s what he does, time and time again. But it is more than that. It’s the fact that emblazoned upon Superman’s chest is – to humans – merely an S, encased in a pentagon; to Superman, however, to the species from which he originates, it is the crest of a family dedicated to hope. That is what people see when Superman flies over them, a victorious symbol of hope. Think of all that makes Superman the superhero he is: his durability, his dependability, his strength – not merely physical, but mental, spiritual.

The embodiment of hope is this durable, potent, impossible, and yet-so-grounded person, this person who is willing to do everything in his power to stop those who literally walk beneath him as he soars to save them from another danger. Until he revealed it recently, no one realised he was just a reporter from a decent newspaper, who was raised in a small country town. He made anyone capable of donning the cape; he is a universal hero. Anyone could be the man saving a skyscraper full of people from a fiery death; anyone could be the man who saved the world. Anyone could be the man who flew. In this way, anyone could be the person to whom they looked up and knew, though something was wrong, it would soon be right again.

The same goes for Spider-Man: all that anyone knew of him was that he was a man, strong and dextrous and lithe, who zipped through the skies and helped anyone who needed it. It is not solely his anonymity which makes Spider-Man so relatable, nor just his quips and snarkiness, but his evident humanity. People have seen him hurt, seen him bleeding, seen his mask torn, his limping gait. There is always the scene from the second Raimi film to recall, when those aboard the train, shocked to find out how young Spider-Man is, make themselves a barrier between the unconscious hero and the villain pursuing him. Even Spider-Man’s tagline shows how close he is to the rest of us – he’s just our friendly neighbourhood superhero, helping people in his spare time. Not because he’s beholden to help others; he does so because he can. He has the ability to do so, and so he does; and, if he can, then why can’t we also help others when we are able?

The way Spider-Man flies originally was an innate aspect of his: he could project web from his wrists. In recent years that was rendered to a web-shooter he wore upon his wrist, but in both cases his webs were triggered by pressing his middle and ring fingers to a pad near the base of his palm. For those unfamiliar, it might not strike as an interesting gesture, but for those who recognise American Sign Language, this is quite the way to fly. Spider-Man flies with a sentence: “I love you.” Examining this closer, we see that it’s through love Spider-Man connects with people – he can use his webbing to bind, to silence, to save, to leave messages. He also uses it to venture from place to place, to avoid obstacles.

Without things that reach towards the sky – whether organically, such as trees, or manmade, such as buildings – Spider-Man loses much of his effectiveness in transport. And sometimes, once he started relying on web-shooters rather than matter within himself, he runs out of that connective tissue, and is no longer able to fly as freely as he can with his webbing. From this we can gather that, while Spider-Man flies with love, if he overextends it, or is without aspirational assistance, even he is left to walk with the rest of us. And though there are other assets of his which have him stand out from a crowd – his strength, durability, ingenuity – these are not what immediately set him apart. Upon the ground, he is still capable of being hurt by all the things that could hurt everyone else.

And, just like everyone else, Spider-Man is well-acquainted with taking the bus, with walking the sidewalks. This cannot be said for those like Iron Man nor the Batman, both of whom are constantly set apart from those they seek to help. Both of these rely upon their ingenuity – the former excels in engineering and physics whereas the latter in strategy – but they also rely upon their astounding wealth to fix their problems. Without the budget either of them have access to, they would not be able to be quite the heroes they are. Iron Man, for example, were he not the extremely rich man he is, would likely find himself limited by the constraints of his wallet, rather than those of his imagination. And the Batman, were he not able to surreptitiously acquire those technologies and gadgets that his inherited company allows, would still be a strategist and fighter of great prowess, sure, but in the city of Gotham, where the divide between haves and have-nots is rigid and immense, how many times would he have died due to a lack of the proper armour and medical technologies?

This is not to say that Iron Man and the Batman aren’t heroes – though it must be mentioned that the latter is much most befitting the antihero, vigilante subset than otherwise – or are somehow lesser in magnitude than Spider-Man and Superman, but to point out the significance in how these humans without innate powers still manage to fly, and what that looks like.

Iron Man uses a propulsion system generated first by the power of his core (which is keeping his heart alive), and later on by an external core. Iron Man has a vast intellect, aside of his resources, and has shown that, in a pinch, he is able to engineer absolute marvels. And the way he flies emanates this: he launches himself through the air, continuously pushing on and onwards, requiring high amounts of energy to do so; he can continuously expend this energy, and increases the efficiency of his suit beyond physics as we understand it. He pushes himself to meet the limit of his imagination – and then pushes further. He is chronically tinkering with his suits, trying to make them – and, likely, himself – better than every previous iteration. He relies on software he’s developed to help with this, to catch things he may not pay attention to, to understand things he might not, to spot trends he has suspicions about but needed verified. Iron Man, rather than hope or love, flies with progression, with the yearning to manufacture better things.

The Batman still has both his tenacity and incredible foresight, and has shown repeatedly that he is capable of standing against all kinds of villainy, with or without access to his gear. But the Batman does not fly to remain in the air; he flies to descend, so that he might see a target better or gain access from a place unforeseen. He relies on his grappling hook to reach high places, where he may perch until it is time to fall upon his prey. And he is always falling, an aspect he prepares for with his cape. He is one who cannot fly, and he has no pretences about it. Considering his style, how this meshes with his archetype, one must realise that the Batman is not one who would fly. Socially, he comes from a place of privilege, from somewhere there is no reason to fly; he has reached the pinnacle of the social classes in Gotham and has no reason to spread his wings. More than that, though, the villains of Gotham are cast as insane, and as severely mentally ill; the Batman comes from a place of relative moral upstanding.

Though he is lost in his grief and driven by his need to make the world one his father would enjoy, though he has severe PTSD and anxiety (and likely paranoia), he has not turned to the dark side in ways of many of his rogues gallery. Yet, because of his own closeness to the madness of those he stalks at night, he is unwaveringly vicious in his handling of them. Of the aforementioned, he has the least restraint when it comes to dispelling crime, stopping only at the line of murder. But the Batman always descends to their level, always meanders the pathways of his rogues’ minds. To understand them better, sure, but in many ways as an effort to distinguish himself from them. It is vital to note, however, that the Batman may descend, but it is always with the goal of dragging himself from the depths and returning to his roost – and that difference, between himself and some of his peers, is all the difference.

#solkraka - on art #april 2021

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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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timcurlyshepard · 5 years

Note

Can you do one of who everyone would be as Greek heroes?

(not all of these are necessarily Greek heroes in the sense that they would have been considered so by antiquity standards, but they are prominent mortal[ish] Greek figures)

(Also I included Cherry this time)

Darry

Hercules/Heracles. The Superman of Ancient Greece if you will. Hercules has a life plagued by tragedy (dying multiple times, making his way through the underworld, being driven mad and forced to kill his own wife and children). His life is not as happy story as the Disney movie made it out to be. This feels like a version of Darry to me because he seems to have all the capabilities of having a good life, intelligence, strength, support, but it inevitably goes terribly wrong and his life turns out like nothing you would have expected through a series of unfortunate events.

Ponyboy

Cassandra. An Oracle in Ancient Greece (having the ability to see the future) but cursed by Apollo so that no one would ever believe her. She is often seen as the archetype of someone being dismissed and ignored by others when they are right and know best. She warned the Trojans of the attack coming from the Trojan Horse but went ignored. I think that Pony often feels dismissing and ignored because of his youth and place in his family and the gang. He would relate very easily to the story of Cassandra (which has a very tragic ending).

Soda

Helen. Helen is famously the cause of the Trojan war. She falls in love with Paris and ditches her husband, Menelaus, to run off with him. She’s a young girl who’s willing to sacrifice literally everything for love. This reads like Soda to me, quick to fall completely in love and damning the consequences.

Steve

Odysseus. Clever, cunning, and brash. Odysseus is the one who famously came up with the ploy of the Trojan Horse, which very much feels like a Steve idea to me. He’s a quite a bit hypocritical at times (expecting Penelope to remain faithful while he’s off getting hot and heavy with every woman he meets) which feels like it could also be a weakness of Steve’s (not the cheating, the hypocritical attitude at times).

Dallas

Achilles. Achilles is strong and bold, but he has weaknesses, and not just in his heal. One of the most memorable scenes of Achilles during the Iliad is a display of his infamous temper; dragging the dead body of Hector, who had slain his beloved Patroclus, through the streetsof Troy. This figure radiates Dallas for me because he is known for his fighting prowess, but he is also rash and quick to anger, especially when someone he loves is at stake.

Johnny

Patroclus. The other half of Dallas’ Achilles. Patroclus dies dressed as Achilles, attempting to defend his men against the Trojan army. He is self sacrificing and is the catalyst to the death of Achilles and Hector in the Iliad. I mean come on, this is Johnny. Hinton might have just read the Iliad and gone ‘yeah we’re just gonna use that guy and give him a new name’.

Two Bit

Pandora. The first woman ever created. And considered to be downfall of mankind (think Eve in Christianity). Pandora famously opened a box that she was not supposed to because she had been cursed with an uncontrollable curiosity. Said box released all the horrors of the world (war, hunger, the pain of childbirth, death, etc etc). She was doomed though, because the box was a trap, meant to entice her. For me, Two Bit also has this sense of curiosity and an inability to control his actions at times. He doesn’t always think before he acts, much like Pandora.

Tim

Medea. Medea is the real hero in the tale of Jason and the Argonaughts. She is the one who has magical abilities and intelligence and she captures the Golden Fleece for them. But she doesn’t get the credit she deserves, and after she married Jason he abandons her for another woman. She then has him killed. She is one of the few women in Ancient Greece that was seen as more powerful than a man, and in the end she gets away with the murders she commits. I think that this intelligence and violent revenge when wronged is like Tim. She’s cunning and is the leader of a group of hard headed guys, which Tim is as well.

Curly

Orpheus. Orpheus was a musician and favored by the god Hades. So, when his wife Eurydice dies he goes to Hades to beg for her back, and the god agrees on one condition: he may lead her out of the underworld, but while doing so he may not look back at her. But, of course, he is too tempted to see his beloved wife and turns back, causing her to vanish and return to the underworld. I think that this sort of foolish breaking of rules and suffering unwelcome consequences is a Curly move. It also is definitely like him to try and get around a clear instruction but fail in the process. He doesn’t always think things through and it will bite him in the ass later.

Angela

Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra is actually my favorite figure in Greek mythology. Here’s the short version: her husband is Agememnon (leader of the Greek army in the Trojan war) sacrifices her beloved daughter to the gods before leaving for battle (it was considered good luck to do so). She’s pissed, obviously, and murders him in a clever plot upon his return like 20 years later. I decided to make Angela her because she is vengeful, but for a good cause. She loves her child dearly and would do anything to avenge her, and in part to avenge herself. Angela has always read as the vengeful type to me (I mean just consider what she had her brothers do to Bryon) and I think she would be the type to hold anger for 20 years, especially over the killing of a family member.

Cherry

Alcestis. The rundown: Alcestis dies in place of her husband so that he may have immortality, it was supposed to be a gift to him by the God Apollo but turns out to be a curse because he loses his beloved wife. The thing that’s notable about this story is that it’s called the Alcestis and is centered around her, but she doesn’t have a single line in it. She is essentially the epitome of how men saw women in Ancient Greece (and today), sacrificial lambs that are meant to fuel their pain in stories but not actually have their own agency. Cherry reminds me of what I think Alcestis would have said and been like if it had been written by women in Greece. Frustrated with being used as a pawn and having her story boil down to what she offers men.

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queenofnohr · 4 years

Text

Aeaean Spring Breeze - Ch. 1: Breathe Like it’s Any Other Monday Morning

(Here’s the dreamwidth link for easier reading)

[in My Room]

Circe: Ugh…… For some reason…… Motivation…… Dwindling…... Fou: Fo~u...... Mash: Once again, Circe is slacking off in Master’s bed…… Circe, every time you do this, senpai turns up with “perfect” timing. Circe: It’ll be fiiiiiiiine. This time I’ve set up detection magic, after all~. Mash: I see. But isn’t that a violation of privacy? Circe: Just be cool, be chill. I’m worried about Master, so it can’t be helped.

[you come in]

> No, it can be helped

Circe: Gah!!

*the sound of her falling off the bed* *the sound of her shakily getting up*

Circe: H- Hey, Piglet! How did my detection magic get disabled? …...Medea! This is SO getting old and that girl is getting downright vicious! Always butting in on other peoples’ love lives, this is why I’ll never find a new partner! Fou: Fou, fo~u. (Translation: Like student, like teacher.) Arjuna: ......Circe. We are of different classes and different places of origin, and as such thought it prudent to avoid conflict due to our different values. However— I cannot overlook your actions. Go sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. Circe: Eugh. Who appointed you head of the disciplinary committee? Arjuna: Disciplinary committee……? Perhaps I am. After all, even Osakabehime said that I was like a “white-uniformed disciplinary committee member or student council president as a second pick” Mash: Yeah! You really do have the good sense of a Japanese student! Fou: Fou, fofo~u......! (Translation: Your good sense is a little off, Mash……!) Arjuna: ......No, this is all beside the point. We confirmed the existence of a Micro-Singularity. Circe: Huh. Mash: ! Arjuna: The Chaldea staff are busy with the investigation and analysis of Lostbelts, so they want Mash to be in charge of monitoring it. Mash: Leave it to me. I’m happy to receive orders straight from the student council president himself! Circe: So, where is this Singularity? Arjuna: Right— It’s at Aeaea Island. Circe: ...... ...... What did you just say?

> Aeaea Island Circe: Guh…… Mrr…… Ugh……

> Isn’t that the island where you lived, Circe?

Circe: ...... ...... ...... ......Yeah, it was.

Arjuna: Then I’ll make this briefing quick. The era seems to be the Age of Gods, if not, somewhere close to it. Circe: Ehhhhh…… About that island…… I only have bad memories of it, so…...

> Was it painful?

Circe: ……I feel like I had a bad dream about that island recently.

> Is that so……?

Circe: Uhm...... Errrr......

Jason: Ha. That’s not a reason, you just wanna skip out. And I wanna skip this mission too! Orion: I- I- I also wanna skip out. I mean, Artemis isn’t even gonna be there. And if she’s not there, I’m useless. Arjuna: Putting Jason aside, Orion…… What happened to that goddess? Orion: It was something weird like a meetup for goddesses in a relationship or something. And thanks to that, I’m free. Arjuna: Then that’s even more reason to take you along. After all, it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you if you’re with us. Orion: Why do I get this kind of treatment!? Jason: Sounds right to me. Georgios: It’ll be good for both of you. Circe, if you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. I will be departing for the front. Jason: What? That’s unusual for you, Georgios.

> I meant to ask Chiron, but—

[flashback]

Chiron: If I go, Jason might be nervous. When he tries to show me how much he’s grown, he ends up making mistakes…… that’s the impression I get. I’m terribly sorry to suggest a replacement, but how about Master Georgios? If you bring him along, he’ll surely help balance the party.

[end flashback]

Jason: Huh!? HUH!? What the hell is Chiron on about!? I don’t get nervous at all just because he’s around! I’m the man who journeyed across the sea on the Argo! Orion: I don’t really know what he’s talking about, but you probably will have a lot of screw ups. Arjuna: I agree. To be honest, I can picture it all in my mind. Jason: Since when did you guys get to be such a bunch of know-it-alls!? ……Well, it’s fine. So, what are you gonna do, Circe? It doesn’t matter if you go. It’s a Micro-Singularity, so three Servants should be more than enough. Orion: Including me? Jason: Why would you think you’re included in that number? I’m not gonna rely on the skills of a stuffed animal.

> Orion is pretty calm

Orion: Oho, so you’ve finally zeroed in on my strengths, Master. That is, being able to pull back and look at everything from a bird’s eye view. Fou: Fou...... Circe: Oh…… I— I’m sorry. It’s kinda…… Um…...

> You don’t need to force yourself.

Circe: Thanks. No, wait a second…… Let me think…… Orion: (......Why is this “Great Witch” frozen and twitching in a corner of the bed) Jason: ……We’ll be on our way now. I think we can manage without one or two Great Witches. Circe: Wha!? Jason, isn’t that super rude of you? If you don’t have a Great Witch, won’t you be in trouble? Jason: ……Alright, let’s go! Circe: Agh, wait. I said wait! Let me think on it a little more——

[we Reyshift]

> In the end, she just sorta went with the flow……

Jason: The result was gonna be the same either way. Let’s go, Great Witch. Circe: I have a bad feeling about this. Guh…... Georgios: Mm. Even so, it’s quite picturesque. The color of the Greek sea is beautiful. Then, I’ll take one……

[he snaps a photo]

Orion: I’ve been thinking this for a while, Master Georgios, but where’d you pick up that camera? Georgios: Well, it became my hobby without me realizing it. Perhaps I used the Grail to wish for it in some Holy Grail War. …...I’m joking, of course. Orion: …………You got me! (I have no clue what to say when such a grave guy cracks a joke) Mash: ……Ah, everyone, we’re getting a Servant reading immediately. Jason: A stray Servant? Mash: Yes. It seems to be an unknown Heroic Spirit whose Saint Graph has yet to be registered with Chaldea. Arjuna: We don’t know if they’re friend or foe. Let’s approach with caution for the time being. Orion: …………Not that it matters, but. Why “stray” Servant? Jason: Because calling them “wild” Servants totally changes the meaning. Wild Servants are ones like Atalante, Penthesilea, and other meathead Servants. Mash: Jason, Jason— Those two are currently in the control room, so…… Penthesilea: Hey, Jason. I’ll be sure to give you a “warm” welcome when you get back. Atalante: I think I will as well. Tell me, captain, which do you prefer? Being a target or being a crash dummy? Jason: Mash, tell me who’s in the room with you sooner!! It’s a matter of life and death for me! Arjuna: ……Perhaps it’s better for you to keep your mouth shut? Jason: Shut up, Mr. Logic! I’m the type of person who’s got something to say for everything! Georgios: So you admit you talk too much. Circe: *sighhhhhhh*...... This is a total bummer…...

> You okay?

Circe: Yeah, it’s just mental strain, I’m fine physically. Mash: Are your memories of Aeaea Island that bad? Circe: ……Overall, the memories I have of it are good ones. I have just one bad memory. But you know what they say, right? One rotten apple is all it takes to spoil the barrel…… Jason: Odysseus? Circe: Has anyone else ever told you how insensitive you are!? Jason: They have. Circe: What’s with that attitude!? Orion: I mean, sooner or later it was gonna come up, right? Your legend is super famous. Even you know it, right, Master? Circe: !!

> Of course I know it.

Circe: *grumbles* Well, at least there’s no need to explain. Right, moving on! Jason: Well, the gist of it is she was totally rejected by the guy she fell in love with. Circe: Can you be a little more tactful—!? Is this just what human royalty is like!?

> Not very well……

Circe: Yeah, exactly. It’s nothing you need to know about, Piglet! Orion: Oh, then I’ll explain it. Circe: It’s. Fine. Just. Drop. It. Orion: It was after the end of the Trojan War. Odysseus got on a boat to return home…... Circe: You’re rea~lly doing this, huh. Orion: But he was set adrift. A bunch of other stuff happened, but long story short, he ends up washing up on Aeaea Island. Jason: But the witch who lived there didn’t trust humans, so they got turned into animals. Stuff like pigs and lions and wolves. Orion: Even though they were welcomed in, Odysseus’s men were also transformed into pigs. But she sure apologized quickly when Odysseus got angry and pulled a sword out. Circe: Agh- Geh- Guh…… (She’s writhing) Jason: And then, in exchange for turning his men back to normal, she got Odysseus to stay. ……Now that I think about it, you’re pretty good at doing business…… Circe: You think that’s what’s admirable!? Orion: But, ya’know, from the start Odysseus already had a wife, Penelope. After recuperating his strength on Aeaea Island, he decided to return home. Circe: (She’s starting to get into the depressed loner at PE pose) Jason: And that’s the story of how Circe got rejected! Circe: ーThank you all for your “courteous” explanation. I’m so gonna turn you guys into pigs!!

Orion: ......Huh? Hey, Master, do you think that guy way over there is the Servant? They’re collapsed on the beach. Jason: Oh, maybe they smell bad and that’s why all those Phantasmal Beasts are gathering around.

> W- We have to help them!

Georgios: Indeed. Let’s move out! Circe: Fine, but I’ve still got a number of complaints, so— Jason: Forget about that and help!!

[battle]

Georgios: That should be it. Now then, everyone, if you would be so kind. Everyone: ? Georgios: Smile.

[he snaps a photo]

Jason: I smiled on instinct, but is there a reason why you had to take a picture? Georgios: For the memories, of course. Circe: Well, we should probably get to waking up this Servant, right? Good grief, we really are a bunch of insensitive heroes…… Hey, are you okay? …… …… Hm? Hmmmmm?

> What is it?

Circe: I- It’s nothing. Super, totally not even a thing, ya’know? Jason: I thought the back of their head looked strange, but it’s a helmet, huh? Oi, they might be drowning in there. Why don’t you take off his helmet? Circe: ...... ...... Orion: Georgios, teacherー please helpー. Georgios: Right. And-a-one, and-a-twoー ???: Ug…… Ugh…… W- Where am I……? Jason: Oh, he’s alive. ???: Who are...... you people......?

[Circe is constantly at the side of the frame while we’re talking]

> We’re from Chaldea

???: Chaldea......? Jason: If you don’t know Chaldea, does Jason or Orion ring a bell? ???: ......Those are the names of legendary heroes…… Are you saying you are too? Georgios: I am Georgios. The thing that looks like a bear at first glance is Orion. And the man who’s crossing his arms, slowly backing away, and thinking things like “When I get my chance I’ll turn tail and run”...... That one is Jason. Jason: Why do I get roasted for my introduction!? Georgios: Moving on— Oh? What happened to Circe?

> Huh?

???: ......Circe? Mash: Circe seems to have slipped away. Orion: Just what does she think she’s doing…… Hey, you guys stay here. Master and I will find her. Jason: So she ended up skipping out after all. ???: Circe…… Georgios: She’s the famed Great Witch of Aeaea Island. You’ll meet her in a bit.

Node 2

[at a waterfall]

ーAll at once, I ran away. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. All I knew was that I had to get away from that suffocating atmosphere.

Circe: *pant*…… *pant* *pant*…… So that bad feeling I had was right……

……I thought this day would come. Because he is a hero. A hero among heroes. Of course he would be summoned, the only question is when.

Circe: It probably wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t a chance meeting.

Why did it have to be this, of all things? I just had to find him summoned to Aeaea Island. Where it all began.

Circe: What’s gotten into me, running away like that!? I’m not usually this bad. Right now I am first and foremost— Guda’s Servant. …… ……

……If I could just breathe and sort my feelings outー But even as I think this……

[there’s a noise]

Circe: Can everything just be quiet!

> Circe!

Circe: Guh, Master!!

[she starts shifting around]

Circe: *fiddles with her hair* *pulls her own cheeks* *checks her face in a hand mirror* *turns away, then looks back with a smile* Hey hi, what’s up, Piglet! Orion: Stop looking in the mirror and help us fightー!! Circe: You’re just a bear that doesn’t understand a maiden’s heart!!

> Preparing for combat!

[battle]

> Now then, what’s wrong?

Circe: ...... ......Ugh. It’s about that guy we found on the beach.

> Do you know him?

Circe: I do know him. I know him very well. That man’s name is— ......Odysseus. He’s one of the few heroes that survived the Trojan War. The man who devised the Trojan Horse and led the Achaean forces to victory. ……A man who was set adrift for a long, long time on his way back to his beloved wife. ……A man who spent a bit of time with me here, on Aeaea Island.

---

T/L: Only one! The section where Circe is “frozen and twitching at the corner of the bed” is a phrase that I do believe got translated (re: her connection to Penelope in Material Book VI) as “curled up in a fetal position”. I think, perhaps, the description in the Material Book could be translated as that, but that turn of phrase seemed much too severe for Circe in this moment. The feeling here is more like “are you sure you want to think on it” rather than “oh something is seriously wrong here”

Prologue ← → Ch. 2

#fgo #fgo translation #grand order #aeaean spring breeze #my translations #long post

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sometimesrosy · 5 years

Text

Anonymous said:I love how you went from "Bellarke is boinking this season" to "Bellarke doesn't have to boink" We love self awareness. We love development. At least you now know they will never get any of it and they will stay friends BUT of course egoistic freaks like you who don't want to accept that they are wrong will say they are endgame. It's sad man!

+++

Did I say they were boinking this season? Did I say they don’t have to boink? I’m not sure I remember saying either. What I have said is that Bellarke is canon and is a SPECTACULAR love story. That they are in love. And yes, they are endgame in whichever way JR ends up writing them.

I have also said that I don’t agree with fandom’s definition of a canon romance, which limits a love story to kissing/confessing/boinking, which are NOT what a love story is about. Because otherwise, Pride and Prejudice wouldn’t be a love story, instead of being like the preeminent love story of western literature. I personally think this story is more about a marriage of true love soulmates than it is about boinking or hooking up. I’m sure we’ll get kissing confessing and a love scene. I think that Bellarke will get a happy *for the 100* ending, which might not be all that happy, but will be them getting to live life on their terms. Which. Is happy. They need each other. They are endgame. Regardless of shallow story elements like kiss/confess/sex. Those are SCENE, not story. Scenes combine to tell the story. They are telling the story and holding off on kiss/confess/sex... or teasing at them, with cheek kisses, mouth to mouth, near confessions, everyone sees it, 2199 calls, and camera shots that LOOK like they’re doing it when taken out of context, even though they are not.

Did I say boinking might happen in previous seasons? Yes. And then when things happened that didn’t go there, I reevaluated my theories. I went back and looked at the narrative, I paid attention to how it worked out and I adjusted what I thought was the story being told. I decided it is less like our more usual romance stories and instead an epic love story of the Pride and Prejudice or Penelope and Odysseus variety. Boinking is not the point of those stories either. The story that we’ve been getting lately, especially since season 4, confirms those theories. The farther we’ve gone, the more this story is going down the path that I thought it was, but yeah, the deeper path, the long game story. I miss details sometimes, I get them wrong. Sorry. I am, indeed, not perfect, and I am not a magic 8 ball who can tell the future and read people’s minds across a continent. BUT, I think I’ve figured out a lot of the deeper story that JR is telling. Not always the plot, the details, or the scenes. That’s okay. I like to watch those things and be surprised.

That’s all I’m doing, nonny, trying to understand the story on the screen. Not just where I think it will go, but also what story JR is actually telling. I mean, it changes, because I’m watching as it airs, so the end has never been written as I analyze the various seasons. So not only am I guessing what the ending could be, I’m guessing how JR and the writers are going to want to go. It’s not like a novel, in which the ending is already written and the earlier chapters have been edited and revised to make sure it all fits that end. Although, I must say that each season HAS been written like a novel, and the endings are already in the first episode, so that HAS been THOROUGHLY edited and shaped by the whole cast and crew to fit the end. You’ll find that while my hiatus speculation can get wild (and I’m not going to stop that because I enjoy it) my spec during the season slows down in the beginning and then picks up as I get more canon to make sense of the story and where it might go. Because once a season starts, there is an individual story being told and there’s something to analyze, not just speculate on.

But you DO know don’t you, that speculating how a story is going to go, and not getting it right is not actually a sin. It is not WRONG of me to get certain aspects of speculation wrong because speculation is something called “guessing.” I might be making an educated guess, based on the narrative and tropes but it’s still a guess. What’s WRONG is treating other people badly, harassing them, calling them names, sending nasty anons. WRONG is not having a theory and not having it pan out. That’s just incorrect, maybe only partially incorrect, more information to adjust your theories and, you know, part of what makes watching a story fun, because you DON’T know what’s going to happen. IF i end up being wrong about Bellarke being endgame, which I don’t think I will be, I will NOT apologize for shipping them or thinking they are endgame. Because there is no crime in that. There is no wrong behavior in believing they will get together and following that story on screen. I know it is a correct story because there is evidence from the text, whether or not I get the ending right. I have been RIGHT far more than I’ve been wrong, but you’ll never notice. And when I am proved RIGHT about Bellarke endgame, I’m pretty sure you won’t apologize to me about sending this nasty anon, because I don’t think you have the strength of character to admit when you are an asshole.

I think understanding myself, what I can do, and the limits of my abilities is called self awareness. Speculating on whether or not a ship will boink, is not actually egoistic. Paying attention to the story on screen is not egoistic, either. I’m trying to tell you what I think the larger story of The 100 is, and how the seasons/episodes/scenes fit into that. This isn’t about me. It’s about a story that I’m NOT telling, someone else’s story. It isn’t even about what I want. When what I want doesn’t coincide with what the story is, I adjust. I reconsider. I accept. Like the time jump. I. Did. Not. Want. But I recognized that there was some good to be had. And I like the story they went with. That’s not egoistic. Egoistic would be to say that the time jump was bad, JR was a bad writer, and he was doing it just to punish me and my fellow shippers and he would never get Bellarke together because he’s an evil mastermind who’s sole goal in life is to screw bellarkers over.

You can see the egoism in that, right? That you want a story that he’s not telling, so therefore it’s all about what you want, how you feel, and how he’s personally ruined your life by telling his own story that goes in a different direction? How DARE he tell his own story and not consider YOU.

Let the man tell his story.

I think you call me egoistic because I believe in my skills that I’ve worked for DECADES to build. I think you call me egoistic because when people tell me I’m wrong, I evaluate the statement and my actions and decide for myself if I’m wrong or not and then I back up my position with evidence to show that I’m right OR I say, oh wow that’s a great theory, and then without apologizing for being wrong (because being wrong on a theory is not something to apologize for, it’s something to ADJUST when you get a better theory) I shift on over into the better theory and start going off on that.

You want me to SHAME myself for not predicting the future of a tv show. You want me to subsume my own thoughts within the groupthink of fandom which is predicated on the entitlement of thinking that JR OWES you the story that you’ve collectively decided is the correct story. And it doesn’t matter that you think you own the ships and characters and shows and CREATORS, which is TRULY egoistic, dear center-around-which-the-universe-revolves-nonny, but YOU’RE WRONG.

Not about the outcome of the story (although you’re wrong about that too) but about thinking that you OWN JR, you OWN me and my thoughts and interpretations, you OWN Bellarke, or CL, or B/E whichever ship is the one you think should turn out how you want, or you OWN fandom. You don’t own any of us. We get our own stories, our own theories, our own posts, our own opinions. Just like you get yours.

The entitlement of thinking you have a right to shame and silence someone else for not fucking thinking what you think about a goddamn ship on a goddamn fictional tv show which is supposed to be for goddamn fun means that you,

in a word,

SUCK.

buzz off anon.

#antis

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kiranerysismyhero · 5 years

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Homeric Epic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807252

Jadzia drags Kira along on an odyssey on the holodeck

For @primatechnosynthpop on tumblr for the @sapphicstartrek fanwork exchange

“I do not believe you.”

Jadzia replied without turning. “No one asked you to believe anything, Worf. I was just letting you know that I’m busy this evening.”

“The major has expressed her disdain for the holosuites many times. She would not willingly join you again, especially after her experience in the Camelot program.”

“Who said anything about willingly?”

Jadzia smiled when she spotted Kira arriving at Ops. “Nerys! Perfect timing.”

“Oh?” Kira said, joining Dax at her station. “Why’s that?”

“You can tell Worf here that I did in fact get you to agree to join me in the holosuites tonight.”

Kira sighed, but her expression wasn’t without mirth. “That’s right. Against my better judgement.”

“Hey!” Jadzia turned to Kira, “I won fair and square and you know it.”

“Only because you violated the spirit of the rules!” Kira protested. “I spent all week fundraising the old-fashioned way, and you just spent a couple evenings playing Tongo and called your winnings ‘donations from the Ferengi waiters!’ You may have won the bet, but I wouldn’t call it fair and square.”

“Oh come on,” Jadzia argued. “Deep down, you wanted me to win anyway or you wouldn’t have taken the bet. You know I usually donate to the war orphan fund around this time of year anyway. That little spark of imagination within you just wanted an excuse to get some exercise.”

Kira merely gave her a look.

“If you two are finished bickering,” Worf interjected, “we have a meeting in the Wardroom in a few minutes.”

Jadzia turned. “We were not bickering.”

“And even if we were,” Kira added, “what’s it to you?”

“We’ll make it to the meeting on time, don’t you worry.” There was a bit of playful condescension in Jadzia’s voice.

“I just meant-” Worf sighed. “I hate it when you two…” he gestured for the right words “...combine your sass.”

Jadzia smiled. “I suppose maybe we should save it for tonight.”

“I can hardly wait.” Kira’s voice was deadpan, but she wore a smile.

---

That evening Kira and Jadzia walked onto the turbolift as the next shift started their watch.

“So,” Kira started, placing her hand on her hip, “are you going to tell me just what kind of holographic misadventure we’ll be having tonight?”

“A classic from Earth, one of their foundational epics.” Jadzia mirrored Kira’s pose teasingly. “Don’t worry about the costume, I already picked up your toga from Garak.”

Kira eyed Jadzia with a bit of suspicion. “What’s a toga?”

---

Kira was beginning to grow impatient with Jadzia’s absence. They were supposed to be running this program together, weren’t they? So why was it that Jadzia had decided to play some apparently minor character back on the island with all the narcotic fruits, if Kira and her crew were meant to leave that island and wash up here?

Speaking of Kira’s men, she didn’t much care for the holographic crew she’d been given. First she had to drag them all out of their lotus-induced stupor to get them back on track, and now they’d decided without her permission to raid this cave of the meat and cheese they found. She absently tangled her fingers in the wool of a sheep in one of several pens around the spacious cave.

Kira was uneasy. The crew had insisted that the laws of hospitality would compel the person who lived here to grant them a gift that would aid them on their journey, but Kira had her doubts. By the look of the cave this dwelling belonged to someone or something rather large, and there was no guarantee that the occupant shared the same cultural rules of hospitality as her crew.

As Kira rethought the plan to wait here to meet the homeowner, the ground began to shake with thunderous footsteps. The sunlight from the cave entrance was blocked out, the only remaining light the fire that had been lit by the now-quaking crew. A flock of sheep streamed through the darkened cave entrance, followed by whatever it was that cast a shadow so large.

The gargantuan form, back turned, rolled a large stone into place at the mouth of the cave. With the only exit very much blocked and no idea what sort of giant creature it was whose food her men had helped themselves to, Kira felt anxiety pool in the pit of her stomach. At least the program was about to become a little more interesting than just trying to command a ship of buffoons, Kira mused.

The figure turned slowly, standing up to its full height as it stepped closer to the light cast by the torches. It dropped the wood that it had been carrying with a crash that sent Kira’s men scrambling to hide. A voice like the rumbling of a volcano called out “Who is there?”

Kira took in the looming form before her. It was dirty, a bit lumpy, and approximately fourteen feet tall but the trail of spots from the bare feet to the misshapen temples were unmistakable, as was the twinkle in the big, singular blue eye.

“Jadzia? How are you doing that?” Kira marveled.

Jadzia switched back to her normal voice, albeit in a stage-whisper. “Imagination, remember? Don’t pull yourself out of the story!”

Kira gave Jadzia a look that made it clear that she wasn’t moving forward without an explanation.

“Fine, technically I’m in a sectioned-off area of the holosuite controlling the cyclops through VR. It’s a hologram that just looks like me. Well, fourteen feet of me.” Even with teeth like mossy boulders Jadzia’s smile was charming. “Now back into character!”

Her voice boomed out “Who are you?”

Kira rolled her eyes but adjusted her posture to that of a brave leader speaking on behalf of her men. “We are Greeks, and come from Troy. We’re trying to return home, but adverse winds blew us ashore.”

---

Kira stood tied to the mast of her ship as her crew worked around her, wax plugging their ears. They had been warned of an island ahead on their journey where Sirens lured men to their deaths with irresistible song. Kira just knew Jadzia would be one of them. She had made sure that her men wouldn’t be drawn in by the siren call but her own ears would remain unplugged. Only, she wasn’t just curious to hear the Siren. She was ready to give her a piece of her mind.

“First you were a hippy Lotus-Eater that helped drug my crew, then you were huge freakin’ Polyphemus and ate everyone, then you… ugh, I swear you picked this program specifically so you could frustrate me!” The fire in Kira’s eyes was giving Jadzia life, though admitting as much would get her in even more hot water with her irritated friend.

“No,” smirked Jadzia in Siren form. “I just thought you’d look great in a toga.”

Jadzia didn’t look bad in one herself, Kira thought. For this character Dax hadn’t used any fancy holographic tricks, save for a bit of a glowing aura that only accentuated her natural beauty.

Not that that was the point Kira wanted to focus on right now, she reminded herself.

“If you had to pick an old ‘Earth epic’” Kira punctuated the term with finger quotes, a difficult feat with her arms pinned to her sides, “you could have at least had us be on the same side.”

“But that would take the fun out of thwarting you again and again.” Jadzia’s grin made Kira want to ‘thwart’ her right in the face.

“You said I would like this program better than Camelot because it’s about my character trying to get home to his beloved wife, who is meanwhile using all her tricks to keep suitors off her back and stay faithful...”

Jadzia nodded. “No kissing of married women.”

“... and yet here you are trying to seduce me, a married man!”

“It’s the nature of my kind,” Jadzia shrugged. “You resisted Circe well enough, you honorable hero. Besides, if it really bothered you, you could have plugged your ears like the rest of the crew.” Jadzia’s voice grew sultry. “My dear Odysseus, one might think you wanted me to seduce you.”

A heat grew in Kira’s stomach as a blush formed on her cheeks. “Your choice of holoprogram,” Kira objected, “has cast you to pursue me twice now. Maybe you’re the one who wants the seduction to happen.”

“Yet you haven’t ended the program, or attacked anyone you’re not supposed to.” Jadzia pointed out. “You may object to the Siren calling to Odysseus, but maybe you don’t mind me pursuing you.”

“Maybe I’m exercising my imagination!” Kira spat back with a bit too much bluster. “Like what I’d like to do to you if I weren’t tied to this mast!”

Jadzia completely sidestepped the threat, purring “Maybe I should come aboard ship and find out exactly what you would like to do to me.”

“Maybe you should!”

Jadzia stepped off the island, her footsteps gliding across the water as she made her way to the ship. Within a few moments she stood on the deck face-to-face with Kira, who pulled at her bonds to lean closer to Jadzia.

“Maybe I should untie you,” Jadzia murmured.

“Or maybe you could just kiss me already!”

Jadzia couldn’t help but smile at the genuine impatience in Kira’s voice. Leaning in closer so that her lips were a breath away from Kira’s ear, she cupped Nerys’s chin with her right hand and whispered “Okay.”

Their kiss was long and deep. Kira’s senses were overwhelmed as the taste of Jadzia mingled with the brisk fresh smell of the sea air. Maybe the holosuites had their merits after all.

“You know, this isn’t how the program is supposed to play out.” Jadzia smiled, breathless as she pulled back a millimeter.

Kira wore a smirk as she went in for another kiss. “You know I like to make up my own endings.”

#kiradax #primatechnosynthpop #sapphicstartrek #im never satisfied w my own work i hope this doesnt suck

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asdfghjkl1x1 · 5 years

Text

Hunters | Grace, Kozue, Lucas, Régine

The previous day was spent in hours of catching up, and lots of walk with the wolves. Everyone took on the roles they eventually fell in with the time they've just spent. Grace and Kozue would lead, Régine would take out the rear guard while Lucas made sure they were good all over the road. As for William, he would take care of their direction as he mapped out where they were going.

"So, you're the leader of the pack?" Kozue asked Grace.

"I think the word is Alpha, chérie" Régine corrected.

"I lead this pack since that night I drove them out of town, I've spent some time with them, on top of that, the wolf I fought happened to be their leader."

"Did you...?"

"No, he's over there" Grace pointed at a gray wolf. The animal saw her and went to where she was, then lied by her feet. "I'm more of an accidental Alpha, so the least I can do is take them to a new home"

"If you're the Alpha, then what's Lucas?" Kozue asked.

"A beta, same for Régine, these wolves took her in immediately, I'm surprised"

"Don't be. You hugged me yesterday. They only took me in because I smelled like you. As for Jean-Luc, I'm sure it's because they've spent enough time with him."

"Yes, he would heal them when they were wounded"

"Et voilá" Régine pointed at Grace while looking at Kozue.

"William-san is your cousin, why didn't they take him in too? Shouldn't you guys have the same smell or something?"

"That I'm not sure, but so far, the wolves seem to not like him, and I don't know why." Grace said as she looked at William by the lake taking notes on a notebook.

"Uhm... if Régine and Lucas are betas, am I a beta, too?"

"Uhm... no, Kozue, you're not."

"But they're extra careful with me, they probably love me" she giggled.

Grace smiled and sighed "I told you you would hate me but I didn't tell you why" she swallowed "You're... the Alphasmate"

Régine laughed, and Grace blushed. Kozue, on the other hand, was confused "What's that?"

"Uhm..." Grace was nervous and didn't know how to convey the information.

Régine noticed and went ahead "Cherié, to the wolves, you two mated. Like, let's put it in this way, you're married in their... law. So, they will obey you and Sadako as much as they do with Grace and Marion."

Kozue froze, she looked at Grace then at Régine, stood silent for a while before finally protesting "Couldn't you at least be nice and propose properly?" then realized about something else "Oh God, I can't be married, I'm supposed to marry F..." she bit her lip at a certain name, and looked down sad.

"Who?" Grace asked.

"None of your business" Kozue said in a serious tone, so unusual for her that she blinked in disbelief, before walking away.

Lots of thoughts were going through the Asian's mind as she walked deep into the forest, she knew that the Welsh was not going to let it rest, not because she wanted to nag at her for anything, but because she might offer herself, as usual, to help her. Kozue thought that Grace already had enough on helping people, and that for once, she should let others help her.

The steps being heard behind, confirmed her that such thing was not going to happen yet, so she stopped.

"Talk to me, Kozue"

Kozue hugged herself. How to start and where to start were things she didn't know how to convey.

"It's Freya you're supposed to marry, right?" Grace dared to shoot. Kozue and her weren't much about beating the bush, and that was one aspect she loved about their friendship. Not to mention it was something agreed between them, thanks to Kozue's cousin, Haruko.

The Asian froze, then let out a long sigh without releasing her own arms nor facing the Welsh, "I think that'd be an arrogant and childish thought."

Grace smiled and approached slowly behind her before hugging her from behind "Loving someone is not arrogant or childish, Kozue. Maybe assuming it's like your fate could be, but that's how love works. It makes absolutely not sense sometimes" she giggled.

Kozue leaned her head back and rested it against Grace's chest "Why you're always so warm?"

"Why you haven't told her about your feelings?"

"It's not that easy, Grace"

"Why?"

"There's someone else I don't know" Kozue groaned softly "I left feeling jealous of that someone I don't even know"

Grace sighed "Haven't you thought that maybe... it could be you?"

"What?"

"Okay, Penelope, you're into war themes and stuff. Let's say you're a princess who's supposed to find a suitor soon, because your father want it so, and you've been single for way too long. Your name is Penelope."

"Am I getting a story from you?" Kozue giggled.

"Yes, you are. Let me continue."

Kozue nodded and Grace continued "Now, there's a lot of people who try to go after you during your daily life, and then there's your best friend, Minerva, someone who's grown with you, someone who actually you enjoy spending time with, but never considered taking her as your wife, even though you would be okay if that happened."

"One day, this friend asks for your hand to your parents without you knowing, they're not agree with it, because despite being honourable, she has no dowry, nor comes from an important family. Then informs you she's departing for a long time, but promises to come back to you."

"Time passes and every day, Penelope gets sadder because Minerva is not with her. Then she starts overthinking on how many other people her best friend must be with, because this person had the freedom and strength to go on adventures every time she wanted. So Penelope, started to feel jealous, not only of Minerva's status, but of the amount of imaginary women her mind created that would be of her best friend's taste, blondes, redheads, tall, short, it didn't matter. She just assumed there was someone else and that it was not her."

"Next day, your father comes to you and informs that you have until the next feast to choose a suitor, he already picked 5, so you should choose among those. The day comes, and considering you had no time to get acquainted, you assumed this is the last day you're free, so, true to yourself on looking someone to admire, you make someone bring your mother's bow and tell all of them that the one who would fix it, would marry you."

"Since these were mainly aristocrats, none of them knew how to fix the bow. Then, someone under a cloak came over, and did so. The person first made the King to promise that if they fixed the bow, no matter what he'll keep his word. The King agreed, the person, after some struggle, fixed the bow."

"The person turned out to be Minerva, right?" Kozue giggled

"Yes, how do you know?"

"Because you're doing quite the crossover there, and Ulysses or Odysseus did sleep with some other women, and the tale actually made a good deal on Penelope's loyalty"

"You know I'm not as well-versed in Greek mythology as you are"

Kozue giggled "It's okay, Penelope deserved the goddess as her wife. Both were loyal in your tale."

"That's precisely what I'm trying to illustrate, and I just don't know how The Iliad went."

"Odysseus and Penelope are from The Odyssey, Grace"

"I always confuse those two. Maybe we should talk about Arthurian legends, I would be glad about it."

Kozue giggled "I'm not going to give you the upper hand" she turned to face her and smiled. Her face slowly went sad "I can't just tell Freya I like her."

"Kozue, I think a certain number of people can see Freya has feelings towards you."

"I never said I didn't know her feelings towards me"

At this, Grace froze, "What do you mean?"

Kozue smiled at her sadly "When you told me everything about Marion, I first disliked how much it seemed that you wanted her to be out of you, to be put aside, as if she wasn't part of you, too. I said I was not going to do that with Sadako. So, I made a deal with her, well, you know that, the memory part. But there's one I never told anyone..." she bit her lip, then took a deep breath "I wanted Sadako to be loved by Freya instead of me, because if she did so, maybe, just maybe, we could be together because she would love me the way I was" she took a deep breath and stared at Grace's face.

"...Did it work?"

Kozue smiled "It did, just not the way I expected. Everything comes with a price. That's when I understood part of who we are, and the things you did. I realized that what you did was not trying to get rid of her. I mean, Marion wrote books. You gave her a life, freedom, and a place where she was going to be accepted for who she is, and it worked. But in exchange, you got this personality trait of disliking yourself, of feeling inferior."

Grace started to ponder about it, and Kozue was right, while she occasionally knew how to recognize when she was not someone else's size, on her youth, she didn't remember treating herself as someone less than others.

The Asian pursed her lips "Naivety is not exactly part of me"

Grace stood silent for a few seconds before finally understanding "You sold your love for Freya to Sadako.., right?"

Kozue looked down and nodded.

"Why?"

"I was afraid"

"Of what?"

"That one day she would leave like Lucy... or would be completely scared of me, or won't trust me anymore." Kozue shut her eyes "Maybe is for the best there's someone else. I'll feel better if she has someone... normal to be with."

Grace's hug went tight, she completely understood that feeling and had no intention of condemning her for it.

"Please, at least let her know about it. Tell her about your feelings and get some peace from it if it turns out she's not willing to correspond your love."

"I should"

"If you two are done, would you please come over and start with today's hunt? We have 57 mouths to feed" Régine's voice was heard behind them.

Grace frowned in confusion and corrected her "We're 55"

"Sadako and Marion count, too."

The morning was fresh and windy, good for hunting—Grace thought, since it was easy for Marion to catch the smell of her prey in the air and know where to go. "You should take off your jacket, shirt and shoes, it'd be a good training for you, you should try to bring out Sadako, it'll be quicker for both"

"I don't know how to call her on will. Though..." she looked up "at midnight she'll take over"

"Day 29th, right?"

Kozue nodded. Deep down, and maybe for the first time, she was excited it was happening.

They ran several meters, which easily made it to a kilometre or two, Grace's original experience on hunting served for Marion to be more accurate on the task and not acting on mere instincts.

It was quite a novelty for Kozue to be her in front of Marion, at the alter's 'Hey, kid' she blushed easily. She tried to keep up as much as she could with the running, but at some moment she had to stay slow down.

Marion would go over her and try to run in the same speed, since the hunters of the pack are supposed to move together, and it was demanded of her as the Alphasmate, after all, the latter was supposed to be an equal to the Alpha.

However, when she got tired, Kozue decided to use her own skills to keep up by organizing the attacks and make the wolves move better along Marion. It worked perfectly, and at the end, she earned their respect.

"I don't think those are enough rabbits for this pack, there won't be many for all, shouldn't we go for a deer or something?" Kozue suggested as she counted what they got.

"That'd be hard, I'm not sure where we are, and I don't think they come out around this time. Unless you plan—"

Kozue raised her hand, she seemed to be picking some nearby sound.

"Your ears are working already?"

"The more we approach to midnight, the more they will heighten" then she groaned. "I forgot my earplugs"

"Shit" then realized about something "Cotton balls, I'm sure Lucas can get you some if it gets unbear—"

Kozue raised her hand again "Do wolves eat fish?"

"Yes, they can't fish, but can steal it from other animals and eat it without any problems"

The Asian smiled "There's a river close. And I can tell there's a lot of flopping sounds"

Both ladies reached the river, and indeed, the current was flooded with fishes of a few kinds, Marion looked for the others and they started to fish for everyone. The alter was impressed with Kozue and how easy it was for her to fish with her bare hands. On her side, she was not that skilled, all the fishes would navigate and slip through her hands without staying in between them, making her groan in frustration.

Kozue giggled at her status, "You should get some branches, I'll make you something for you to fish. You got a knife?"

Marion gave her her knife after going for some branches, she felt a bit uncomfortable for being unable to do so, Grace had a few handful skills but fishing wasn't one of those.

The Asian prepared the branches in a way one could take the fishes, by piercing their bodies while in the water. "Here, I think you can do it now"

Marion took the long branch and with a bit of focus she would catch fishes and give it to the wolves easily, she smiled in triumph and kept fishing for a while.

Lucas and William started a fire and prepared everything to cook the fishes for them, while Régine would feed the sick and old wolves with rabbits.

Once they ate, the Frenchwoman stared at them, then at the river "We can't stay that long here"

"Why?" asked Kozue as she caressed Yuki's back.

"Just a bad feeling"

William would look around them, then briefly thought that Régine held her eyes on his, but as soon as he blinked they were no more. I must be imagining things.

They picked up their things, put out the fire, and kept walking, they needed to cover their quote for the day, otherwise, the trip might get longer, and who knows what dangers could lie ahead if they didn't move fast, after all, they weren't exactly difficult to spot with a pack of 50 wolves among them.

On the afternoon, they took a rest, after they got a bit away from the river's current. Régine and Grace decided to keep it as reference to know when they would get to the sea and how far they were from it.

They walked some more until the sun started to lower, and the light started to fade. William made a bonfire, Lucas examined both Grace and the wolves, not finding anything bad with them.

Kozue on the other hand, started to frown while seeing, and listening to the flames and the burning wood.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked.

"I am" she smiled "It's just a headache. I had a lot of activity today, maybe I should just sleep."

Grace didn't notice because she was busy observing the wolves and William, The latter seemed more and more interested on keeping an eye on Lucas, that when he smiled, his cousin got a bit alarmed and avoided to think out of the friendship perspective. I hope this trip ends soon.

Kozue went to sleep first, an hour later the rest followed, Grace being the last, the Welsh observed how the Asian seemed to have troubles in her sleep, but still managed to calm down after a few seconds. She lied next to her and pulled her close. Must be a nightmare.

A few hours later, a sharp and terrible pain on her shoulder woke up Grace, it took a few seconds to understand that it came from teeth. Who— Her eyes went wide open at seeing a Kozue with still closed eyes biting her. She had to do something and fast.

Régine woke up, alarmed at the vision and approached quickly to them.

Grace raised her hand, to stop her, the least she wanted was to alarm all the wolves with the idea that their Alpha was being apparently betrayed by her Alphasmate. She took her index to her lips, and her eyes went to William and Lucas.

The Frenchwoman understood.

thig air adhart.

Marion took Kozue gently, holding any sounds of pain and took her apart from everyone, whatever the nightmare was, it made the lady act aggressively and sleepwalk easily during it.

The Asian stopped, only to change the teeth for her nails.

The alter made her best to avoid the attacks, but the speed was far superior from the girl she hunted with earlier that day. She had no choice, she had to try to wake her up by responding to the actions.

After avoiding more swift attacks on her way, she managed to slap her face, without any success, she tried pulling her hair, pinching her, but this was indeed a deep sleep, and the nightmare seemed to not end. Finally, she decided that it was better to do the same as her. She took her arm, bad bit it, holding into it.

The sleeping Kozue managed to take Marion's arm and bite it as well.

Blood dripped from their arms, making their bites harder with every second it passed. Marion finally whimpered out of pain, she shut her eyes and covered her mouth, she couldn't wake up the wolves. When she opened her eyes, she found the other's eyes looking back at her, first confused, then alarmed, letting go of her arm.

"Are you okay?" Marion asked.

"I am" the Asian panted "I am" she repeated in a serious and slightly low tone, then looked around, not recognizing the place "Where are we?"

The alter noticed the change and knew who she was talking to "Nice too see you again, Sadako. Sure, you could have spared my arm"

Sadako winced "Shit. I'm so sorry, Marion" and checked her arm. "Again, where are we, how did I get here?"

Marion explained everything to her, and she nodded any other time, feeling more calmed about the situation and glad that her equal had a way to go to her original personality and back. "Let's go with the others, we'll let Lucas take care of this."

All of sudden, a mighty roar was heard that made both the ladies jump in surprise. "A bear"

Marion tried to pick the smell of the animal "It's been trailing us... since our stop at the river, apparently. It smells of fish" then observed her arm "and this blood is not going to help. We'll cover this and move as silent as we can."

Sadako heard enough to know that it's been after them, and it was approaching.

When they made it with the other and woke them up, Marion pushed the once Alpha to the others, telling him to go with the others, but apparently, the wolf was trying to find who hurt her instead.

Sadako called on Yuki, regrouped the pack, and started to walk. If they didn't move soon, the bear will get them.

Lucas stayed with Marion since she refused to leave blood trails to the animal, which was the wisest thing to do, while the others went ahead.

A gunshot was heard in the air, from behind them, the bear roared once more and ran to the other direction.

Hunters?

#sp:hunters #self para #m:grace #m:kozue #m:régine #m:luke #tw:blood

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wander-yet-wonder · 6 years

Text

State of Dreaming

Roderich is reunited with his husband as he returns from the new world. Not really tied to a specific expedition but food, music and clothing are all historically accurate. This is partially me just wanting to write some passionnate SpAus, and partially reflecting on how Austria's perception of the world being perfect when he's with Antonio being the actual illusion instead of the waking up. Notes at the end! Lemon Word count: 2671

AO3: x

How could there exist a world beyond those green eyes? So vivacious and always filled with the promise of danger… Or was it excitement? Roderich had never really been able to discern between the two. He couldn’t follow whenever Antonio sailed across the world. Adventure didn’t appeal to him that way, it downright terrified him to be on open sea. But his husband was restless, was a wanderer, always looking for the next escape. So, he was left with this fate where when Spain’s ships sailed out the world around him slowed down. It left him standing on watchtowers staring at the horizon until the wind and whipped up seawater had made his lips crack. It left him wondering if he was Calypso, letting Odysseus go or Penelopea, waiting for Odysseus to return. Some days he almost hates him for leaving him so much.

But today! Today, oh happy day! Today he is Demeter, after Persephone returns from the underworld. Antonio picks him out of the crowd waiting at the docks with ease and with one hand pulls him tight against his hip. He kisses him and Roderich just blossoms. Spring has returned.

Sitting at a celebratory banquet and after having switched from wine to the marillenschnaps he brought all the way from home, Roderich feels his mind returning to him. He’s getting normal again, like he was asleep and dreaming for all the time Antonio was gone. Lost in strange poetic metaphors about classical antiquity. He and Antonio are holding hands underneath the table and he feels grounded and real and pleasantly drunk.

“I can’t believe you kissed me in front of that crowd.”

Roderich never really fears for his soul when being with Antonio. Before their union he had a long conversation about it with his archbishop. The man had assured him that for creatures like Roderich the bible needed to be read slightly differently. That it prescribed laws for humans and that if Roderich wanted to know how he should live, he should study the holy Jerusalem, the kingdom of god and other holy countries and try to live like them. That meant he had to spread himself over the world, build his imperium and spread Christianity. He felt like his union with Spain was really important to achieve that, so it was a union favoured by God. Also, it was all within the holy office of matrimony. Still kissing in front of a crowd, to whom they appeared like regular humans- that was dangerous. It had made his heart race.

“Did you dislike it?” Antonio looked up from the pork ribs he was eating with his hands, kind of resembling a dog with a bone.

“No… It was exciting.” Roderich looked away with a shy smile but underneath the table squeezed Antonio’s leg.

That earned him a knowing grin from the other over his bone. They both knew what was coming. It would have to wait a bit longer though. Roderich didn’t mind, the anticipation made it all extra exciting.

It didn’t end with just dinner either, no this was a night for celebrating! Morisco style musicians were brought out, their sweeping rhythms and expert playing almost overwhelming Roderich’s senses. He was educated in the Pythagorean approach to music, mathematical, harmonious. These melodies still kept all that mathematical intricacy but there was something else as well. A deep sweeping urgency that pulled at his body in an almost primal way. Music that was both cerebral and emotional.

“Come Rodrigo- you want to dance I can see it; your entire body seems to be pushed at ahaha!” Antonio was tugging his sleeve trying to get him to the centre of the room.

But Roderich faltered slightly. “I don’t know… I feel like I’m to drunk to properly count the steps- or to remember any Baja Danza…”

Antonio leaned closer to him. “Then don’t. Just dance with me.”

Roderich gasped softly. Dancing without any form? Not a high dance but dancing like a drunk peasant during a farmer’s wedding? It’s not that he didn’t know how good that would feel. He’d been at those celebrations, sung while standing on tables, being an alpine farm boy. But he’d never done it in a royal court. Scandalous – but too exciting to pass up on.

How did Spain always bring out this side of him? He was trying so hard to make everyone see he wasn’t an uncultured Germanic but an actual proper renaissance court. Still he found himself grinning and then an actual laugh bubbled in the back of his throat.

“I see being on a ship so long turned you in an actual sailor, we’re not in a tavern you scoundrel.” He chastised Antonio but was grinning as he held both his hands following him to the dancefloor with every intention of just letting Antonio spin him around until he saw stars.

“I should be careful! I heard sailors are good-for-nothings that’ll make you pretty promises. You’ll probably say you’ll marry me and then leave me with my honour taken from me!” Antonio had looked confused first: “But we’re already marrie- oh.“ but then caught on to the little scenario Roderich was playing out. “Ay, my beauty in a foreign port- dance with me just for one night. My ship leaves tomorrow and I’m a lonely man. Just dancing, I promise no babies will come from it.”

Roderich laughed and let himself be wooed by his dangerous sea captain. He didn’t even stop to think how those words of seduction had come so easily from Antonio, like he’d had a lot of practice using them when staying in his American territories. To him right now Antonio was just a good actor.

They didn’t even need words to agree when they’d steal away to their chambers. Somehow it felt like they were still dancing, it all went so smooth. The hands Antonio uses to lead him around the dancefloor now gently urge him to the bed, sliding lower than appropriate but who cares, they’re alone. He’s laid on his back on the bed and Antonio crawls over him, there’s a moment where Antonio just touches his face, studying him as if he’d deciding whether he’s real. Roderich can’t really tell what the other is really thinking but the next moment he’s kissing him, kissing him with the same hunger with which he’d devoured almost an entire ham that evening. He missed this, his entire body missed this in in an almost visceral way. Everywhere he was touched he could feel lightning shoot trough his skin and God, Spain was touching him everywhere. That was everywhere he could reach, Roderich felt increasingly like his favourite slashed wams that he wore for special occasions was committing a grave offense by still being on his body. Antonio licked his neck and sucked a kiss under his collar and Roderich let go all decorum. With an impatient grunt he rolled up his hips, letting Antonio feel exactly what kind of state he was putting him in. Antonio let out an amazed laugh, it seems that that breaking of decorum was exactly what he wanted to see.

Antonio sat back up and started unbuttoning his doublet. Roderich took this as a sign that he should get out of his own clothes as well. He sat up on his elbows and diligently pulled the knots out of the cords that tied his hoses to his wams but he couldn’t do it without sometimes glancing upwards to see how much of Antonio had been revealed so far. When Antonio let his shirt join his doublet on the floor Roderich abandoned undressing himself in a heartbeat. The moment he saw that lightly toned chest, stained by the South American sun in a caramel colour he’d find unattractive on anybody else, he flew up and kissed it hard. He was taken aback by his own eagerness but it was almost like he was being moved by something outside himself. He trailed sloppy open-mouthed kisses all over him, inhaling his scent, slightly salty and slightly sweaty and oh how he missed it. He sucks down on Antonio’s nipple and is vaguely bemused by how the fine black hairs on his chest brush against his cheek as he does. Above him he hears Antonio moan a curse, followed by the movements of him unlacing his breeches. Undoing the codpiece doesn’t really change much because behind it Antonio is just as firm as the little pouch. Roderich glances down from his ministrations to get a good look at the other’s now bared erection and moves away from his chest.

He's breathing tentatively as they lock eyes for a moment. Without words it’s agreed how to proceed. Roderich wriggles himself out of his breeches while Antonio moves over to the cabinet to retrieve a flask of olive oil disguised amongst scented hair oils. Roderich manages to get himself naked in time and crawls under the heavy wool blankets ready for Antonio to join him.

The other is awkwardly undoing the bows above his knees that are holding up his breeches and stockings while simultaneously walking back over to the bed. It makes him stumble a little, but he manages to get naked by the time he reaches the bed.

“Stop laughing at me Edelstein- I can hear you.” Antonio says in a mock threatening voice. With a sweeping motion he throws back the covers. “And stop hiding, let me look at you I haven’t seen you for so long.” Roderich complies and stretches out his body appealingly, inviting Antonio into the bed with his eyes. When Antonio is in there with him, the covers pulled back up, it feels different. Naked flesh against naked flesh feels intimate. They’re protected by the covers, and the curtains on the bed, in their own little world where no one else can touch them.

They kiss for the first part of it. Just sighing softly into each other and running hands up each other’s sides. Roderich makes sure to get a good handful of the other’s ass as well. It perfectly fills his long hands and Antonio makes a funny angry sound whenever he touches him there. Soon though, they know they can no longer wait. They share a kiss with their crotches pressed firmly together, grinding softly for some much-needed friction when some drops of precum fall from Roderich’s dick onto Antonio’s leg and they exchange a knowing glance. Still breathing heavily Roderich rolls onto his back and lets his legs fall open. Antonio sits over him and with a practiced ease has worked two fingers into him in no time.

Roderich is holding his breath and clutching the sheet but knows he should let both go in order to relax enough for Antonio to take him. Antonio leans down and splays his free hand over Roderich’s abdomen, studying the colour contrast between his caramel coloured hand, roughened up by sea travel and tying ropes, and the milky white softness of Roderich’s stomach. “Hermoso.” He chuckles before curling his fingers trough the small trail of dark hairs and following them downwards. He takes a firm hold of Roderich’s cock and sets a steady rhythm as he tries a third finger. It works like a charm and soon enough Roderich finds himself panting and ready for him.

“Am I dreaming?” He asks with an absent-minded smile as Antonio crawls over him again. “You dream about this when I’m gone?” The way Antonio asks makes it clear that he wants to tease him but Roderich isn’t ashamed to admit it. “Yes, both when asleep and when awake.” He must’ve looked slightly sad because Antonio kisses his temple with a surprising gentleness. “I’m really back.” It’s almost like Antonio is reminding himself instead of Roderich, like he to lived in a state of dreaming and is now back in reality. But it being very different to Roderich’s being consumed by thoughts of Antonio and unable to think of anything else. More like he dreamed an entirely different life where he didn’t think about him at all, and now was woken up and had to remind himself that this was reality.

They’re anchored together again. Antonio pressed hard and firmly inside of him. Roderich inhales sharply but then encourages Antonio in setting a steady rhythm, rocking him like the sea.

Their mouths find each other, the kiss more improvised due to the movement and the gasps and sighs they breath into each other’s mouths. Antonio presses his tongue deep inside of Roderich and Roderich pulls him in with his legs. They’re tightly wrapped around Antonio’s hips and the impatient pulls he uses indicate that Antonio should speed up. Give him more. When the other doesn’t take the hint, he tears himself away from the kiss however delicious it may be to moan. “Please, harder.”

Antonio looks at him wildly appreciative and follows immediately. Every other thrust Roderich can feel Antonio hit something inside of him. He’d never really understood how that worked but whenever he was touched right there, he felt a strange rush of warmth and a pressure in his lower abdomen that just felt so good. He could feel it slowly build until it tipped over the edge- he felt like he was right about to come but it would last so much longer than when he would just touch his cock. Antonio was glancing down at him with a smug look obviously happy to see he was doing this to Roderich. He smirked and sped up making the large four poster bed creak dangerously with his movements. Groaning loudly Roderich grabbed two handfuls of the other’s curls. He made sure Antonio kept the right angle and speed with his legs and rewarded him with the wildly appreciative faces he made. When it finally hit him, he convulsed below Antonio. His load smeared between them and he had to hold onto Antonio’s shoulders like he was holding on to reality. He felt like he was about to faint but Antonio grunting and labouring above him kept him from doing so.

Roderich had unhooked his legs from across Antonio’s hips and let them fall open to the side, which allowed Antonio to sit up a bit more and change his angle. He gripped Roderich’s hips tight and with fast and shallow thrusts slapped their skin together. Roderich was just letting himself fall back into the pillows still reeling, but now being able to look up to Spain just in time to see him smile trough a whimper and feel the hot spurt of semen inside of him. Antonio pulled out before being completely done and sent two more spurts onto Roderich’s already stained stomach and crotch. It was clear Antonio was fighting the urge to just collapse onto Roderich but managed to motivate himself to go and grab a handkerchief to wipe them down a bit. Roderich sure wasn’t moving anywhere, feeling like his legs had Spätzle inside of them instead of bones.

Provisional cleaning was deemed enough by them and Antonio pulled Roderich close against him. Chest against back and cock against ass with a strong protective arm wrapped around him. Roderich didn’t bother with pillow talk, he knew Antonio was out like a light after sex. But he took a moment to look at their intertwined hands in the pale moonlight. Their wedding rings slightly knocking together.

This was the world. This was the whole world. Within these curtains, within these four posters, within these two arms, everything made sense. He knew which way was up, he could see the beautiful intricacy of the way god had crafted the correspondences of the larger world outside them and the smaller world inside them and everything in between. He loved and was loved in return. Antonio was his and only his again, no more being afraid. Food, drink, dancing, music, love. He drifted of to sleep, his chest almost hurting with how incredibly happy he was. This was the world.

#Spaus #aph Spain #Aph Austria #Antonio Fernandez Carriedo #roderich edelstein #JuliWrites

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