#nireus

[nightmares-voicemail]

Hey Nireus

Wisp wants to know your favorite dessert

Nireus Fowl

"It's a dish best served cold."

Wisp

So, marzipan?

Nireus Fowl

"... no? It's revenge!"

Wisp

I'm just saying. Marzipan goes bad on room temperature quickly.

Nireus Fowl

"What does that have to do with anything?"

[baejax-the-great]

Hello. How would you categorize Achilles/Patroclus' faces? (Traditionally speaking)Masculine/Feminine/Androgynous? Beautiful/Pretty/Handsome? Any more hcs on how do you picture their looks? Or does it differ among AUs?

Thank you, and have a nice weekend!

I don't know that I usually classify faces this way. I also have enjoyed a lot of different versions of Achilles and Pat and don't think any are particularly "wrong" or anything.

My first introduction into a visual representation of Patroclus was through Hades game, and I am partial to his design there. I also truly love @lady-forest's drawing of Pat here which is close to the Hades design, but a little different. Variations on Hades!Patroclus will always have me all heart-eyes.

A lot of how I envision their faces will depend on their age. Faces change a lot between the ages of 15 and 25. I had a silly post a while back about different artists' representations of Achilles as a girl in Skyros and how they had to choose to make him a hot girl or an ugly girl. Personally I enjoy the hot girl interpretations better.

This one, where he's serving, is a personal fave. But passing for a girl at 15 is a lot easier than passing at 25. And I've known a few very pretty boys who grew into "masculine" looking men, so I don't know that you can really predict.

I've debated what Homer would mean while calling Achilles' the hottest dude in the army. Does he mean the masculine ideal? Is Achilles sort of a perfect average of all idealized traits? Or is he pretty in the way Helen is pretty? The latter seems less likely given the misogyny of the culture as well as Ajax being called the second hottest Achaean in the Odyssey, and at like seven feet tall and built like a tank, I don't know that anyone is depicting him as having feminine features. Another example I think of is Heracles. Based on the sheer number of lovers Heracles had, he was also considered hot as shit by both men and women, and again he's not ever depicted as particularly feminine.

Achilles is a bit different because he represents "youth" in the epic cycle. It's the reason he's rarely depicted with a beard even when he's an adult in a culture that values beards a lot. In that spirit, I tend to try to blend the "masculine" and "feminine" in my mind, a boy whose features could have been girlish who grows up into a beautiful man. So much of what we consider "feminine" in a man is more about styling/affect/the way he moves and carries himself than actual bare bones facial structure, anyway.

As for what I personally envision while writing, it does change depending on AU to an extent, but there are a few constants. Patroclus can and will grow a beard (depending on his age). Achilles cannot and won't. Patroclus has big, brown cow-eyes (in the Homeric sense). I liked Miller giving Achilles green eyes, so I stick with that. I like Pat having a bump in his nose. I give them both long hair, though Pat's is more subject to change. Pat has darker skin than Achilles.

[xfilesinamajor]

Second in Command

There are days—more and more, lately—when he forgets that home even exists. The fig trees, the goats, the view from the palace at the top of the hill, stone floors and a soft bed, the background noise of the slaves gossiping, the sound of Ctimene’s laughter. It feels as if all of that was not a different lifetime, but an ancient fever dream, something that never really existed at all.

What does cheese taste like? All he can think of is the underripe fruit they find on the shores of tiny inlets, and the fish they catch and share. There’s never enough of either. Not enough for 42, let alone the 600 who left Troy two years ago.

At least he thinks it was two years. Elpinor was the one counting, keeping track, diligently marking every time the sun rose. Maybe it’s just as well he died on Circe’s island. There were no dawns in the Underworld, no storms or meals to judge how much time was passing. Were they there one day, or twelve? The constant hunger, fitful sleep, and strange visions made it hard to tell.

He had looked for Elpinor, down there. Because his death had been so fresh, and so stupid. To survive the war, the cyclops, the storm, the sea god, the witch, only to fall from a roof? Where was the justice in that?

He should know better than to expect justice by now, in any form. Most of the time, he does. Justice is a useful tool in ruling an island or fighting a war, but when it comes to survival…

Anyway, he didn’t see Elpinor in the Underworld. He saw the face of the first man he killed in battle, staring unblinkingly up at him from the murky waters, as if judging him silently. Just as he’d done when he fell to the ground outside the walls of Troy, the light of life fading from his eyes as one hand weakly crept toward the spear in his throat.

He could have screamed into the waters, as some men had. Demanded to know what the dead wanted of him. It was a war. He hadn’t asked to go, but he had vowed not to bring shame to himself and his family once he got there. He had a beautiful bride waiting for him, and parents to make proud, and whatever these Trojans had done to incur the wrath of Menelaus, he was going to do his best to destroy them. He has no business feeling guilt over the death of one pathetic enemy soldier. By now he is responsible for the deaths of hundreds. None of the others followed their ship through the Underworld, judging him with dead eyes.

What did the others see? No one spoke of it. Nireus had cried silently but constantly until he fell at last into sleep, Theasides had screamed and thrashed around as though he were being attacked, and Odysseus himself had stood there with his lips moving silently in conversations no one else heard. But no one spoke of what they saw. Not then, and not in the weeks that have stretched into months since they returned to the realm of the living.

Are they living? These days hardly seem to count as life. Perhaps they are all dead already. But the men are still hungry, the blazing sun still burns their skin, they still wake and sleep. When there were more of them, a whole fleet trailing behind, there were jokes. He doesn’t often remember his life on Same, but he does remember the early days of the trip from Troy. High on victory and spoils, full of hope and excitement at the prospect of returning home. The shouting and laughter had been loud enough to travel over the waters, spreading from one ship to another, infecting the entire fleet with happiness.

Sometimes he thinks of Polites and wonders how much would have changed if he had lived. Probably the captain would have listened to his foolish trust and naivete one time too many, and they would be in the Underworld already. He’d like to believe that. Because if it’s not true, then Polites…no, he wasn’t right! He had loved Polites, too, but that man had never seen the world as it truly was. He’d never seen the danger and darkness all around them. He’d been great with a bow, but he’d had no common sense.

And yet…Odysseus had trusted Polites. Had he lived, the captain might have relied upon Polites to guard the wind bag. Perhaps Polites could have persuaded him to trust Eurylochus, too. They could have taken it in turns, ensuring that bag stayed closed, and the captain wouldn’t have nearly killed himself from lack of sleep.

Sharing that duty would have been the smart thing to do. Hadn’t he said as much to Odysseus? Hadn’t he offered to share the burden? But no, the captain had been stubborn, as he always was, trusting the wind bag to no one but himself, going without sleep until first his temper began to crack, then his focus began to wane, and finally until the waking hallucinations began.

Eurylochus is the second in command. He couldn’t just sit back and watch his captain, his friend, his brother destroy himself in such a way! And yes, maybe…yes, he had been hurt that Odysseus would not share the responsibility. Weren’t they brothers? Wasn’t he next in the line of command? Why wouldn’t Odysseus trust him to watch the bag while he slept? No man on board would have dared try to take it from him by force.

The captain didn’t trust him. That was what it came down to. Odysseus hadn’t trusted him. He had chosen to destroy himself rather than accept help from Eurylochus. That truth had burned a deep, angry hole inside him and at last he had lost his temper, tearing open the bag to prove to himself that there wasn’t really a storm inside. The captain’s stubbornness had convinced him that the gods were playing games, giving them an empty bag and laughing as they watched to see how long Odysseus would deprive himself of sleep to protect this bag of nothing. He’d wanted to prove that he was smarter than Odysseus, that failing to trust him had been a mistake.

Instead he’d proved the opposite, and the guilt of that has been a constant companion to him ever since. The deaths of those 552 men at the hands of the sea god—he carries just as much of the blame for that as the captain. Odysseus was the one who told the cyclops his true name and left him alive. But Eurylochus is the one who opened the bag that brought Poseidon to them.

What would Ctimene think of him, if she were to see him now? He can imagine how he looks: burnt, scarred, emaciated, filthy, shoulders rounded by years of guilt and weariness. If that didn’t stop her embracing him, the knowledge of all that he’s done surely would. He left home to bring her honor, and nothing he’s done since the war is worthy of honor. All he can do is continue to look out for the remaining men as best he can.

Not that it matters. He’s never going to see Ctimene again, if she ever truly existed at all. He will never taste another bite of soft goat cheese or watch the wind rippling through the leaves of the trees on his island. It is not that he’s resigned to his own death, though there are moments when he thinks he would find it a welcome relief. No, he will not go down without a fight, not as long as his men need him, not while he still has a job to do. There’s a chance, just a small one, that they will find a place that has food, shelter, relative safety. With full stomachs, a week of good sleep, and no one trying to kill them, it’s possible that the morale of the crew might improve. It could be that life will become worth living again.

But making it home? The only one who still believes that is Odysseus, and how he continues to do so is anyone’s guess. It’s impossible. Poseidon won’t allow it. Defying the gods seldom ends well for those foolish and bold enough to try. The captain’s luck has brought him this far, but it can’t last forever.

The only big question remaining is what will come next. Gods? Monsters? Death? Peace? Or simply day after day of slow starvation, watching what little hope remains in the faces of his friends fade into desperation and madness? He doesn’t like to think about that, so he focuses on smaller questions. Which way the wind is blowing. How much safe drinking water remains. Whether they will catch any fish, or if they seaweed they chew on will make them sick. How long he’ll be able to persuade his friends to exercise, practice combat, stay active.

Whether the growing rift between himself and Odysseus, which gets progressively harder to ignore, is from the guilt of the secret he carries, or perhaps the guilt that Odysseus himself carries. Has he done something to upset the cold, harsh man who he used to consider a friend? Or is his captain simply angry at him because he still lives, when Polites does not?

How much longer can this go on?

[rosie-b]

Centuries Overdue

Chapter 6

Thank you @acise and @nireu-art for creating such cool art for this chapter! You can find and reblog their pieces from here and here, respectively :D

Now, where did we leave off? Oh right, Marinette is trapped in the catacombs by Adrien's corpse. How quaint : )

Happy reading!

A skeleton was collapsed by the tunnel just to the right of the one she’d emerged from, and there was an old leather journal a half a meter from its outstretched hand.

Marinette trembled; she knew that this was definitely not part of the tunnel system on the tour. No, no one was supposed to come here at all, and the last person who did…

To keep her wobbly knees distracted from giving out, Marinette stepped over to the book and picked it up, brushing a layer of dust off its cover and squinting at the title in the low light.

There was nothing on the front cover, or on the spine. She cracked it open, gingerly, just like she always did at the library.

The Tenth Journal of Adrien Agreste, she read, and then she did collapse, falling to the floor and landing hard on her kneecaps. 

“Oh, come on,” she moaned, clutching the book’s pages tightly as her gaze darted towards, and then very quickly away from, the skeleton next to her.

This was possibly the worst-case scenario for this trip. Zombies would be the real worst case, but they were only attracted to Mages, and Marinette was not a Mage. So at least she would die in peace, surrounded by abandoned tunnels and right beside her favorite author, instead of running for her life from humanoid shapes made of darkness.

Her breath shuddered through her mouth as her entire body twitched erratically. Marinette closed her eyes and breathed in deep through her nose, trying to listen for the murmurs of her group, for anything, really, to keep herself calm and give her even just a fool’s hope.

There was nothing.

She opened her eyes as a tear escaped from them.

I’m so sorry, Alya. I should have listened to you.

Marinette wasn’t sure how long she sat there, listlessly thumbing the book’s fragile pages, not caring whether they chipped or crumbled into dust. Eventually, the feeling of her phone in her back pocket made her uncomfortable enough that she shifted her position. She pulled it out of her pocket and sat criss-crossed as she turned the screen on and stared at the time.

20:14. The tour was supposed to be over by now.

Marinette frowned. Couldn’t she get just one bar of service? Enough to send a call through to the surface and get help? It felt cruel that she was so awake and alive, capable of walking through the tunnels, if not navigating them, of walking up 112 stairs and going back to the surface like any other visitor today, yet even though she was perfectly healthy, in a few days she’d be dead.

Days. It would be a slow, painful death, all alone except for a skeleton and her thoughts, which were already turning against her.

She also had a book, one written by a dead man, but what else was new.

Marinette set her phone on her lap and opened the journal up again, giving the title page another glance. She hadn’t known that there was a tenth journal; Alya hadn’t talked about it, and while Adrien had mentioned a book of spells in his ninth journal, she’d thought he was talking about one of the other books he’d written, and that he’d forgotten to take it with him on his final journey.

Apparently not. The book she was holding was labeled “Book of Spells (III)” in Adrien’s handwriting, so he had taken it with him, after all. Now, it would serve as Marinette’s only entertainment while she figured out whether to venture out in the dark beyond the concourse and get even more lost or stay here, where not even the Mages had managed to venture before.

Marinette flipped to a random page in the middle of the book. It was blank, so she flipped backward to just a few pages after the beginning of the journal and started to read, silently at first, but the quiet began to make her nervous after a while, so she read aloud.

“A spell of Tikki’s Mages.” Marinette was glad Alya had taught her the Mages’ code, so that she could understand the journal. Without it, she had a feeling that she would just go insane. “Being a spell to conjure an illness, that once it has infected the individual, will spread until he or she dies… nope. Okay, A spell of Plagg’s Mages, being a spell to conquer spreading illnesses.” She paused for a moment and snorted.

Plagg and Tikki were two paired kwamis, she remembered. They were practically soulmates, and apparently, the spells of one’s Mages would cancel the spell’s of the other’s. Wasn’t that funny? Apart, they were so powerful, but together, they were practically useless!

Marinette laughed until she gave herself a case of the hiccups, because everything was funnier when you were trapped and doomed to die in the exact same way as the person you’d promised not to go looking for, in the exact same room that they’d died in, from which their dead body was never recovered.

Okay, Marinette thought as her giggles abruptly sputtered out, that’s not very funny after all.

She returned her wandering attention back to the book. “A spell of Plagg… to place a most powerful and eternal curse,” she read, skimming through the introduction. “Well, that’s not very cheery. Tikki, what’ve you got? A spell to undo the strongest curse. Nice.”

As she began to read, she stretched her legs out in front of her, trying to stop her left foot from falling asleep. She tapped it against the ground a few times while she slowly made her way through the long spell, but that didn’t work. Annoyed, she broke the spell off and stood up, pacing around the concourse as pins and needles jabbed themselves into her foot.

“Now this is a curse,” she muttered. “Can’t a girl die in peace without her own body attacking her?”

She sighed and came to a stop by the corner where the light was coming from and noticed for the first time that there wasn’t a lamp there. There had been one in every other corner of the tunnels, at least the ones in the actual tour, but here there was no sign of a standard light source, only a pale, greenish ray extending from the limestone.

Marinette marched back over towards Adrien’s skeleton and let out a huff. She was not going to give in to fear now! The light was maybe just a remnant of one of Adrien’s spells. Maybe he’d gone off the path on purpose and lit some magic lamps as he went, to see where he was going. Maybe he’d forgotten to put a time limit on those spells, and accidentally led her astray with them and trapped her in here with him to die!

Marinette scowled at the pale bones jutting out from Adrien’s decomposing 19th century attire but reminded herself that it wasn’t his fault. He’d gotten attacked by a zombie or something, and hadn’t been able to save himself, and lost the chance to turn off the magic lights himself. Now they were just a danger to whoever managed the weird combination of turns Marinette had taken to get stuck here.

She had no one to blame but herself.

“A spell to undo the strongest curse,” she began again. “Tikki, spirit of creation, guide my thoughts and grant me luck. From dawn to dusk, and dusk to dawn; from sea to land and land to sea, creation, hear my desperate plea. What’s good is bad, and bad is good; what’s right is wrong, and wrong is right, but let the curse now come to light. Reflect the evil that’s around, and let goodness within abound, this wretched evil lift. Embrace what mortal man can’t touch, for all the world can’t cover up the monstrous half-known Gift. Mistake or madness, be undone; the endless battle shall be won when mercy’s light is in me found. For but a wish can now surpass the long reach of this Mage’s grasp, so let my spell fulfill its task. Only this do I now ask, a lucky charm for this poor lass, a miracle to me.”

There was a sudden burst of light from beside Marinette, white and hot, spreading out from Adrien’s skeleton in a ball-shaped form. Marinette closed her eyes against it, but she could feel its power even through her eyelids, and she felt a spike of fear. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she wondered whether Adrien’s spirit had heard her and taken offense at her reading of the spell which he had written. She clutched the book to her chest as the light receded and stood rigidly as she waited for something else to happen.

What if just reading a spell attracts zombies, even when you’re not magic? she wondered. What if they got mad and decided to turn Adrien into a zombie and now they'll all be coming to kill me?

That option sounded more realistic than Adrien coming back from the dead to chide her for reading his journal and didn’t do any good for Marinette’s nerves.

Just as suddenly as it had come, the light vanished. Marinette peeked one eye open, and not even the green light was still glowing. But slowly, the paler light returned, this time from a different corner. It made her more afraid, and she squeezed her eyes shut again in anticipation of what was to come.

A whimper escaped her mouth just as a groan arose from the ground at her feet.

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped at what she saw.

Adrien Agreste’s skeleton was not just a skeleton anymore. He had flash, and bones, and skin, and hair even, and he was moving, oh fuck, he was moving! He was reaching out his hand, he was getting closer, he was almost touching her!

Marinette screamed.

Adrien looked up at her. Instead of darkness or a bloodshot, wrathful gaze like she was expecting, his eyes were green, and warm, and very confused.

He opened his mouth, but looked surprised, and turned away to cough into his elbow. Then he pushed himself up to a crouch, and very slowly stood up, swaying on his feet as he looked back at Marinette.

He was unfairly handsome for a guy centuries older than her. He was unreasonably handsome, actually; he was supposed to be just a skeleton! He had just been a skeleton only minutes ago! Seconds, even!

As she stared at the full-on suit Adrien now seemed to be wearing, Marinette decided that he didn’t really seem all that murderous. He didn’t seem like he was possessed by evil zombies. He didn’t even seem like he was going to lecture her for stealing a dead man’s book and reading it out loud beside his helpless, dusty body. 

Actually, maybe Adrien was just a near-death hallucination. She’d heard that those were common.

Maybe she should say something to him, because hallucination or not, this was getting awkward, and there was only so long she could keep staring into his gorgeous green eyes while keeping her cool.

“Good evening. You’re Adrien Agreste, right?”

Adrien blinked, and his brow furrowed adora— no. Not adorably. Not remotely cute at all!

Marinette cleared her throat and tried again in English. “Hello?”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “What does that mean?” he asked in French. 

Marinette had been trying for a response of some kind, but when it came, she found that she was so startled all she could do was take a step backwards.

His voice sounds surprisingly good for someone who’s just been reanimated, she thought, and furiously scolded herself for thinking that.

Adrien blushed. “I recognized the first thing you said, mademoiselle, but I was unable to speak just then. I apologize. What language is ‘hello?’”

Marinette blinked several times in quick succession and decided to focus on the least crazy thing. “Hello? Like, bonjour , but in English? You don’t know that word?”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m afraid not, mademoiselle. I also fail to recognize the style of clothing that you’re wearing. Please, could you tell me how long it’s been since I entered the catacombs?”

Marinette coughed. “Too long for me to believe any of this is real, honestly.”

Adrien shrugged. “That’s fair enough; it’s only rarely that a Mage as powerful as you is born, so it wouldn’t surprise me if a few centuries have passed. I wasn’t expecting to be resurrected at all,” he admitted with the air of a man who had watched the sun set and was extremely (but pleasantly) surprised that it had risen again the next day.

Marinette felt the need to correct him. “I’m not a Mage,” she said. “I’m just a normal girl. I got trapped in here maybe half an hour to two hours ago; it’s been a while since I checked my phone. I think I dropped it when you woke up. You scared me, you know! It’s not every day you get a near-death hallucination, and I wasn’t expecting mine to come for a while— maybe the air quality is worse down here than I thought.”

Adrien let out a long sigh. “It seems that language has changed a lot since I was last alive,” he said. “You have a device on you that tells the time, but you dropped it? Is that right?”

Marinette nodded.

Adrien took a step back and bent down. When he straightened, he was holding her phone in his hand. 

“I’m very sorry; I stepped on it by accident. Will it still work like this?” he asked, offering it to her.

Marinette took it from him, and her stomach flipped. This hallucination had been going on for a while, and she was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t one, after all.

“It’s still good. And it’s only been an hour.”

Adrien nodded and smiled, looking rather confused by the phone and its screen, though he didn’t say anything about it.

“Only an hour, that’s good for you! As for me, could you tell me what year we are in, please?”

Marinette slid her phone back in her pocket, slowly, as her hand trembled. “2023, if I remember correctly. I could be wrong.”

Adrien closed his eyes, and the muscles in his face twitched. “It has been longer than I thought, then. I’m sure I will have trouble adjusting to the new millennium, but I must thank you that I even have the opportunity to do so. Now, let’s return to what you said earlier. If you are not a Mage, then how was I resurrected?”

Marinette frowned. “I don’t know. I really don’t know what’s going on, and I haven’t since I got lost and accidentally left the main tunnels. If this goes on for much longer I think that I’m going to either faint or scream or both.”

“Hmm. Pardon me for asking, mademoiselle, but how did you get lost?” 

Adrien had turned his gaze back to her; his sharp green eyes pinned her in place. She gulped as she began to tell her story, starting slow but talking faster and faster as she grew more nervous under Adrien’s gaze.

“I came on an official visit, but got distracted. I fell behind the tour group I came with and took a wrong turn, and then probably did it again, because I’ve never been down here before and I was totally lost. There were lanterns lighting up a path away from the dead end I’d found, but they just led me here, not back to the group. They also turned out not to be actual lanterns, which is embarrassing but kind of scary. I still don’t know where the light’s coming from,” she said, glancing towards the corner where the murky green light started. “It led me here, and then the tunnel fell dark behind me. I don’t even remember which one it was now. Then I saw you, uh, your skeleton, and I was panicking, so I picked up your journal and read it, and there was a flash of light, and you know the rest, I think.” She gestured helplessly. “I still think I might be hallucinating, or I wouldn’t be so calm. If this is what dying’s like, at least it’s not so bad; I mean, I get a hot guy to look at and everything!”

Adrien tilted his head, considering the long string of words she’d just vomited. “It might be for the best that I don’t know what that phrase means,” he said with a shy laugh. “I’m going to assume that it means my presence is calming to you since you haven’t seen another human in a while, yet it is unnerving at the same time because you think it means that you are dying. Good news; you are not dying— yet.”

Marinette swallowed hard and stared at him. Adrien offered her a tiny, not-so-reassuring smile and kept talking.

“More good news; the fact that you were able to resurrect me by reading the spells from my book is proof that you are, in fact, a Mage! One of Tikki’s Mages, and a very powerful one at that! So, with any luck, we might survive this. If you don’t believe me, mademoiselle, I have further proof to offer you: the lights you described are the same ones that led me astray over two hundred years ago. They are part of an elaborate and everlasting curse which was specifically meant to affect me alone, the one which led to my demise."

"However, Plagg and Tikki’s Mages share a bonded magic, with each group bearing one half of a whole Gift. Because you are a Mage of equal power to me, the curse affected you through that bond, which recognizes Plagg’s Gift to me and Tikki’s Gift to you as two parts of one whole and allowed the curse to affect you in just the same manner as it did me.” Adrien smiled sheepishly at Marinette as her mouth fell open and she stuttered out little aborted attempts at responding. Then he blinked, and his face sobered. “Ah, and if you can permit one more question, I have another one! You insisted you were not a Mage before, but then, you didn’t seem surprised at all to hear that I thought you were one. Do you know what they are, what magic is, or kwamis?”

Marinette was shocked. “I, uh, yes, that is, I do! I know a bit about kwamis, and a bit more about magic and Mages, but I was tested by quite a few of those, and I really don’t think that I am one! I failed all their tests,” she said with a nervous laugh.

Adrien frowned. “The only way that a curse as powerful as the one placed on me could have been lifted was if one of Tikki’s most powerful Mages read a specific spell from my book, the one that you’re still holding, mademoiselle, and the one you read from just before my sudden and unexpected revival. So, regardless of the tests you ‘failed,’ I am very certain that you are a Mage. Now; you reversed the curse which killed me, and you know about magic, and so you must know by now that this is all real. You are not hallucinating, you did not dream getting lost or finding my body or coaxing life into it again. But tell me, the light which you described— is this a new one, or is it the same as the one that led you astray before? It took a while for my eyes to adjust, or I would already know the answer, but I do not, sadly,” Adrien admitted.

Marinette pursed her lips and turned, considering the eerie light. “I think it’s a new one. The light used to come from a different corner before you woke up.”

“Before you resurrected me by undoing the curse which killed me,” Adrien corrected. “Which I am forever indebted to you for, mademoiselle. I know of no way to repay you, but I will do my best.”

Marinette turned as red as a tomato at the attention. “N-need you no,” she stammered. “Uh, I mean, thank you! You really don’t need to worry about it, though!”

Then she froze as a thought formed in her brain, which seemed to be lagging as it processed the fact that what she’d thought (almost hoped) was a hallucination was real life.

The spell she’d cast was supposed to undo curses… but who had cursed Adrien?

A vague memory entered Marinette’s mind from the very start of her internship at the library. Curse Adrien Agreste for choosing these books to write in…  

Oh, no. This was all her fault, wasn’t it?

Wringing her hands together, Marinette blurted out, “Oh, no, the curse! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to kill you! I really didn’t even know I could use magic until you got resurrected, I swear!”

“Oh, you aren’t the one who cursed me, though I would like to examine that fear of yours more closely in the future. It was my parents,” Adrien said nonchalantly, taking the book out of her arms and flipping forward a few pages. “Or rather, what’s left of them.”

In the distance, a loud noise like metal being torn sounded, and Marinette's stomach dropped.

“What was that?” she asked, taking a tiny step closer to Adrien.

“Excellent question. I was trying to figure it out before my untimely death but I didn’t make much progress. The best description I have is darkness, mockingly crafted into the form of a human being.”

Oh, so the magic zombies woke up after all. Great.  

“They can sense us,” Adrien was saying, snapping Marinette out of her panicked spiraling. “We’re both Mages, and if I’m right, our magic gives off a signal that they can follow. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this! They should know better than to go after young maidens.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, well they already tried to kill my friend, Alya, so they must not have gotten the memo.”

Adrien turned, looking at her with sorrow in his eyes. “I apologize. It is always a tragedy when evil grows bold enough to challenge us unchecked. I blame myself for not putting an end to the Darkness sooner. I should have seen it for what it was.”

Marinette felt something spark in her chest. “Hey, no, you don’t get to blame yourself for that! How were you supposed to know your parents could turn into weird, dark magic zombies? I know how hard you fought to destroy the Darkness, and I know how much you lost because of it, and how much you never had the chance to have at all. You’ve done more than anyone else to stop this Darkness. And if…” her voice trailed off as the sounds got louder, still not as loud as the thump-thump of her heart in her ears, though. 

If you couldn’t do it, then who can? She felt bad for thinking it, and guilty for the pain she was about to cause Alya. Marinette swallowed and clenched her fist at her side as her thoughts tugged her down a dark path. She hadn’t listened when she’d told her to stay home, she hadn’t listened to her suspicions that she was a Mage; she’d gone to the catacombs by herself instead, and now she was going to pay the steep price for her folly.

A light touch at her wrist stirred her mind out of its spiral. She startled, turning to look at Adrien, who pulled his hand back from hers and offered her a small smile.

“You’re right that I fought them before with all I had. But we’re going to have to give them one last fight,” he said calmly. “We’re going to give the effort everything we’ve got. And if it doesn’t work, if we don’t make it out of here, then allow me to say that I am honored to go down fighting beside someone as strong of heart as you are.”

Marinette stared up at him. “I— I’m not really what you think,” she whispered. “I’m not a true Mage. And I know that I’m not a fighter. I’ve never faced anyone the way we’re going to have to, when they find us here. I can’t do it,” she said bitterly, shaking her head.

Adrien looked down at her with something like guilt in his eyes. “I told you, your magic is equal to mine. You might not know how to fight, but you can read a spell, and this book has plenty of them. I swear, I will do everything I can to protect you, but you’re going to have to help me if you want to make it out of here alive,” he spoke in a rush. The footsteps were getting louder. He reached out, slowly enough to broadcast his movements, and took her hand in his, squeezing it as if by doing so he could pass his own strength on to her. “I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but won’t you stand with me this once? You’ve already proved your strength by resurrecting me, mademoiselle— uh. Actually, may I know your name?”

Marinette found it was hard to refuse Adrien when he was looking at her with such an earnest, soft expression. “Marinette,” she whispered. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “Nice to officially meet you, Marinette. My name is Adrien Agreste,” he said, and her lips twitched up into a smile.

“I know.”

A light blush spread over his cheeks. “Oh right, my name was in the journal. Which you’ll be needing again, so here, take it!” He handed it to her, and she gingerly accepted it. 

“Do you really think I can do this? What if the first time was a fluke?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No spell that powerful could ever be done by accident, if that’s what you mean. It will work, I promise.”

Marinette took a shaky breath. “Okay. Then I promise that I’ll try.” It was the least she could do, at this point.

Adrien nodded, satisfied. “It’s open to a spell that should offer us some protection, once you speak it. I’ll distract the first… beings, for as long as I can. And, Marinette?” Adrien turned that same earnest expression to her, and she couldn’t look away. “Believe in yourself. You’re more powerful than you know.”

The tunnels surrounding them lit with a pale green light, and Adrien stepped in front of Marinette, holding his hands out in a defensive stance.

“Plagg, claws out.” 

A richer green light flashed around him, and a staff appeared in his hand. 

The first zombie stepped into the room with them, and before Marinette had a chance to take in its mockingly human features, Adrien was already attacking it, lashing out with his staff and forcing it back before moving on to the next zombie. Now that the first one was down, the rest poured into the room quicker, and though Adrien did his best to hold them back, he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and there was no place for Marinette to hide in the midst of the fight.

Under the eerie light of the tunnels, she traced her finger over the words of the spell Adrien had left his book open to. She didn’t feel ready to try magic again, but Adrien was counting on her, and even if she wasn’t a powerful Mage like he’d thought, she owed it to him to try and help.

“Tikki, spots on.” A red flash briefly surrounded her, and suddenly, she was holding a yo-yo. It was red, with black spots, and as soon as the zombies saw that she was holding it, they began to attack more ferociously. A few of them made it past Adrien while he was fighting on the other side of the room, and Marinette’s heart pounded fearfully.

“Spin the yo-yo, it works like a shield!” Adrien called to her. A zombie grabbed hold of his arm while he was speaking, but he touched it with his right hand and called, “Cataclysm!” The zombie hissed and sparked with a black energy before seeming to dissolve. 

The other zombies wailed, a chilling, otherworldly sound that nearly paralyzed Marinette. But she did as Adrien told her to, and even though they rushed toward her in rage, none of the zombies made it past her shield. Turning this way and that, she held them off, occasionally whacking ones that got too close on the head. They never stayed down long, and as still more zombies poured into the room, Marinette felt despair well up in her heart.

“Cataclysm!” Adrien called out again, and this time he touched a group of zombies packed all together. All of them were affected by the spell’s power, and as they faded, a pocket of empty space briefly appeared around Adrien and Marinette.

“Is there another spell that can help us?” she asked him. Her right arm was beginning to feel the strain of constantly needing to spin the yo-yo for protection, and she had the journal tucked under her left arm so tightly that she could feel the imprint of its edges on her body. 

“There’s always another spell, but there’s always a consequence for it,” Adrien said, moving to stand back-to-back with her as the zombies closed in on them. “The most powerful ones in my arsenal would collapse the tunnels on us, and I’m not a master of Tikki’s own spells; I don’t know which ones would work in this situation.”

“But there must be something!” Marinette cried in panic. “Use Cataclysm on them again and buy us some time!”

Adrien obeyed, and another pocket of space opened up. Marinette took advantage of the short amount of time free from zombies to flip through the book and find an appropriate spell to use.

“Teapots, galette des rois, fork, stone, why are none of these spells helpful? What are they even for?”

Adrien shrugged and lunged forward to catch a zombie who was leading the third charge towards them. “Tikki’s Mages were never focused on war magic; they’re mostly pacifists. Otherwise, I think the last battle against the Darkness would have gone a bit differently,” he muttered. “No offense to them, of course! Creation is by its nature in conflict with that of war. And many of those Mages offered what help they could. But to use their spells effectively, they had to get creative .” He took the time to flash a smile at her before lashing out with another spell.

Marinette noticed that the zombies were getting closer to her again, and quickly resumed spinning her yo-yo shield. “Is now really the best time for puns?”

“Now is always the best time for puns,” Adrien retorted. “Cataclysm!”

Marinette rolled her eyes as her mind raced ahead, trying to come up with a solution. There was a short spell on the same page as the one Adrien’s ‘Cataclysm’ was on; like the others towards the front of the book, it seemed to be the opposite of Plagg’s spell, but it seemed like it might be useful to her. Unless, of course, it canceled out Cataclysm entirely.

“Adrien!” she called, still fighting off the endless surge of zombies attacking her.

Adrien turned to glance at her while keeping his own shield up. “What?”

“Do all my spells cancel out your spells? Like, if I use the one by Cataclysm, will the zombies you touched come back?”

Adrien wrinkled his nose. “Not necessarily. You would need to use the Miracle Cure for that, but even then, we’re fighting in tandem. Our powers should recognize that and work together, so—” he paused to fight off a particularly vicious pair of zombies, “—your magic should recognize the Darkness as what’s wrong. If you use the Cure, it would try to undo the Darkness, the ultimate cause of these beings, the zombies, as you called them. It is a fitting name for them,” he said. 

Marinette ducked as a zombie leapt towards her and turned to drive it back. “Really? How so?” She knew zombies didn’t always mean the brain-hungry monsters of television, but she was surprised that Adrien even knew what the word meant.

“Because they’re not just figures of Darkness! They were people, once, but they’ve been corrupted by magic, forced to serve the Darkness until they’re released from their bodies.”

“Until they’re killed,” Marinette gasped. The next zombie to attack her nearly succeeded in grabbing her, but Adrien rushed over just in time, cataclysming it and turning it into ash in front of her eyes. 

“They’re already dead,” he said mournfully. “In every way that really counts. And since it’s been so long, since they’ve been trapped in this hell for centuries, I think they would consider this a mercy, if they could think.”

A zombie wailed and hissed as he struck it with his baton and drove it back against the others. 

“What do you mean? They can’t think at all?”

“They’re possessed, Marinette. I still don’t know by whom, but they are. My own parents wielded the curse that killed me. If they were themselves, if they could think and resist, they would never have done that to their own son.”

Marinette gazed through the thin shield she’d created at the zombies on the other side. They truly seemed to be made of darkness, like they were humans that had become like black holes, impossible to look at for long except for when a flash of green light would trace around them and give them the illusion of features.

“Then how did you know they were your parents?” she asked.

Adrien didn’t respond. He called for another Cataclysm instead, clearing most of the room now that the zombies were so tightly packed together.

A fourth wave quickly appeared.

And this time, Marinette could see how Adrien had known it was them.

These zombies were not like the rest. They were not made of darkness, not entirely, at least. Their features were like that of regular humans, but their eyes were inky black, and they moved as if they were sleepwalking, as if this was just a dream, like she’d once thought. But many of them were coated in blood, brown and dry, that had once oozed from their heads, their chests, their necks.

The two leading the others looked like Adrien. The woman had light blonde hair, while the man’s was graying. Unlike the others, they didn’t seem to have any blood on them. If it weren’t for their eyes, she never would have known anything was wrong with them.

But the woman opened her mouth, and a gurgling sound came from her throat, like she was choking on water. They had drowned. They’d drowned, and their bodies were lost. They were here. 

They were possessed. They’d killed their own son.

Marinette felt sick. 

“A…drien,” Emilie Agreste said slowly, her jaw's movement like that of a gate long rusted shut, now being forced to open. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You should not be alive,” her husband agreed in the same unearthly voice.

Adrien’s spine stiffened. “Cataclysm,” he whispered, and held the glowing ball of destruction in his fist like a threat.

“Your magic will not save you,” Gabriel said, and his voice was growing stronger. “Nor will hers.”

“The Mages must die. You are a plague on the earth, and I have been far too kind,” Emilie hissed.

Marinette felt panic clawing at her throat. “Lucky Charm!” she called at last, remembering the words of the spell she’d found. 

Gabriel lunged forward and caught the object before it had time to finish forming. “Cataclysm,” he said.

The object turned into ash, and Marinette’s mouth went dry.

“I thought they weren’t Mages,” she whispered fearfully.

Adrien looked at her from the side of his eyes. “They weren’t,” he said. “Their curse gave them magic, somehow. They can use as many powers as they want. We can’t stop them.”

“We have to,” Marinette said desperately. Adrien stepped closer to her and took her free hand, squeezing it in his. 

“We will try,” he assured her.

The zombies still weren’t attacking, but Emilie gave them a beckoning wave, and they filed into the room, lining its walls and blocking off the other tunnels. 

Adrien and Marinette readied their shields. Emilie summoned a trompo and smirked at them in a way very unlike the gentle woman Marinette had pictured while reading her journals.

“Venom,” she called brightly.

Marinette was frozen before she knew what had happened. All she could do was gaze ahead in fearful awe, though her head seemed to be free to move, unlike the rest of her body.

Adrien groaned. Checking her periphery, Marinette could tell that he’d been frozen, too.

Well, there were worse things that could’ve happened, Marinette thought as she eyed Gabriel’s open fist.

“Your little game has gone on too long, Mages,” Emilie told them with a smile. “You should take some time to prepare for the end.”

The Agrestes turned to stand by the one open tunnel, like sentries guarding their post. The light in the tunnels turned from a sickly green to a brilliant white, and the darkness was gone.

Adrien murmured something hurriedly under his breath, and the stiffness keeping Marinette in place released. She staggered forward, and the zombies gave her a warning glare.

“Please don’t bother trying,” Gabriel sniffed from his place by the tunnel entrance.

Marinette turned back to Adrien, who was wincing and rubbing his arm.

“What did you do?”

“An adapted version of a spell,” he said. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I used a small curse to counteract Venom. It won’t be enough.” He eyed the tunnel warily as the room grew even brighter, until finally Marinette had to close her eyes against the scorching light.

Then it faded.

“There you are, little Mages,” the voice from before crooned. It filled the whole room; it shook the floor and the ceiling and seemed to echo on eternally. “Yield to me, and I will keep you alive.”

Adrien gasped, and Marinette cracked open her eyes. In front of them stood a huge being, bright white and pink, with six arms and five teal eyes. They had curved antennae and gauzy wings, and the brightness seemed to emanate from them. All around them, the tunnels dissolved, leaving a dark void like space, though the zombies remained, surrounding them in a large circle.

“It’s impossible!” Adrien cried. “From where are you drawing your power, that you can take this form? Only the kwamis may wield this much magic!”

The being offered them a grim smile.

“I am the eldest and wisest of the kwamis,” they said in a double-toned voice. “I am everything that was, and is, and will be. My power is infinite; to fight me is to bring about your own destruction. Yield, little Mages, that your lives may be spared.”

Written for @mlbigbang 2023

[littlesparklight]

I. Some general points when it comes to ancient Greek culture and certain attitudes relevant to the topic: -both men and women were supposed to show self-restraint when it came to sex; it was a virtue, and furthermore, self-restraint and moderation (in all things, but especially this) was part of what made a man "manly", if you will. Women being modest and chaste were similar for them, and an extra step further than a man's "moderation". -At the same time, women were considered "naturally" more sexual, and having less self-control (that was why it was extra important they exercise self-restraint and being chaste), which leads into the connected idea that a man who does not… becomes feminized.

(Something illustrated by Lucian of Samosata's A True Story, in the very first parts of it, and talked about below:)

For the Iliad specifically, Christopher Ransom in his Aspects of Effeminacy and Masculinity in the Iliad (2011) summarises up a couple other points:

"In the Iliad, childishness and effeminacy are often referred to in order to define masculine identity. Women and children are naturally not operative in the adult male world of warfare, and so can be clearly classified as ‘other’ within the martial sphere of battlefield insults. Masculine identity cannot be formed in a vacuum, and so the feminine or the childish is posited as ‘other’ in order to define the masculine by contrast." and "Idle talk is characterised as childish or feminine, and is repeatedly juxtaposed with the masculine sphere of action." as well as "Effeminacy is linked to shame […]; if acting like a coward is a cause for shame, and prompts Menelaos to call the Achaians ‘women’, then effeminacy is seen as shameful in the context of the poem."

And while neither dancing nor sex are something that a man who engages in will become effeminate for, the former is explicitly posited as a peace-time pastime only, and sex is only to be had at the right time (and in the right amount). So, in the Iliad's (as well as the whole war) circumstances, neither of those two activities are proper to prioritise, and are at points set up in juxtaposition and contrast to war and martial effort. Additionally, physical beauty alone doesn't make a man in any way feminized - otherwise quite a few male characters would be effeminate! - and in fact, a well-born, "heroic" man will be beautiful because it befits his status. (Insert basically any big-name male character in Greek mythology here.) But, there's a limit and some caveats to this; physical beauty in a man (not a youth) must be balanced out against other "virtues", and if, in especially the context of war as in the Iliad, a man's martial ability is lacking, his handsomeness becomes a source of scorn instead, because he can't "back it up".

Here's our most notable "offenders": Nireus of Syme, who in the second book of the Iliad is called the most beautiful among the Achaeans after Achilles, but "he was weak, and few men followed him". Syme is a small island, but I don't think the "few men" here is supposed to be assumed because of a lack of numbers on the island. His beauty is all there is to him, and no one wants to follow him because he's not sufficiently (manly) able in war. Nastes and/or Amphimachus of Miletus, wearing gold in his hair "like a girl", which the narrator then calls him a fool for and that he will be stripped of those pieces of jewellery when Achilles kills him, and, again from Ransom's article; "Thus, the effeminised male, characterised by his feminine dress, is brought down by the ‘proper hero’, and the effeminate symbolically succumbs to the masculine." Euphorbos, the man who first injures Patroklos - this is an edge-case, because the text itself isn't obviously condescending or condemning Euphorbos compared to Nastes/Amphimachus. It simply describes him wearing his hair in a style of hair ornaments that pinches tresses in at the middle. But, the narrator still goes to the effort to make this extra description, not just the more general/usual mention of the hair being befouled in the dust as the man killed falls to the ground.

(In the intent of being somewhat exhaustive, two other potential edge-cases: Patroklos, who does perform some tasks at the embassy dinner in Book 9 that would usually be done by women. And it's not as if Achilles doesn't have women who could deal with the bread and similar. It's not remarked on, or marked in the text in any way, compared to the other characters previous. Menelaos, even more of an edge case, but like Patroklos he's described as gentle, and by Agamemnon and Nestor's indictment doesn't act when he should, being more prone and willing to let Agamemnon take point. Could say it ties into how Helen in the Odyssey is the more dominant partner in terms of social interaction, as well.)

And then there's our last "offender", who we see more of in terms of his lacking in living up to proper (Iliadic) masculinity; Paris. Before going into that, though, I want to touch on something else.

II. That being what the idea of the Trojans being "barbarians" does to the Trojans in later sources. In the Iliad itself, while the Iliad does have a pro-Achaean bias, the Trojans and their allies aren't really portrayed in the same way as happens later (but not consistently so), coming into shape during and after the Persian Wars. In summary, it's during this time the Trojans gain the negative stereotypes of the eastern "barbarian"; luxurious, slavish (but also tyrants! one basically ties into and enables the other), and effeminate.

Not all "barbarians" were considered the same, with the same stereotypes attached to them; northern (Scythians, etc.) barbarians were considered violent and warlike, "savage" if you will.

Edith Hall's book Inventing the Barbarian (1989), is all about this, but have a couple hopefully illuminating quotes about how these stereotypes were expressed, especially in drama/fiction:

So what happens is that all Trojans get tarred with this barbarism brush, as illustrated in the Aeneid (by a character, not the narrative); "And now that Paris, with his eunuch crew, beneath his chin and fragrant, oozy hair ties the soft Lydian bonnet, boasting well his stolen prize." Notes here: 1. This is said by a character, not the narrative itself, and someone using this as an argument against Aeneas and his Trojans, but the stereotype itself isn't something new; 2. "That Paris" = Aeneas. While this might be more about Paris as a seducer and abductor of Helen, given the emasculation of the rest of the Trojans and then the additional effeminate touches with Aeneas' supposed dress and hair, I'd say it's not just about that; 3. The word translated here as "eunuch" (semivir, "half-man"), by a quick look in Perseus' word tool, is also straight up used about effeminacy, though of course a eunuch wasn't a "full"/proper man and often viewed as effeminate, too, so they're tied together.

Even with this development, in looking at the Iliad itself obviously not all Trojan characters would be equally easy to cast in an effeminate light. Again, we come back to the easiest target, the one who, by the way he's juxtaposed against another character who exemplifies the "war as (part of the) male gender performance" in the Iliad, stands outside of that. The one who basically, as he is portrayed in the Iliad, by the stereotype of the eastern barbarian becomes the archetypal "eastern barbarian Trojan".

Paris.

III. So, let's talk about Paris!

At the very basic level when it comes to Paris and his place in the Iliad, is that he is the foil and contrast to his brother Hektor in specific, as a warrior and as a man. But in that specific reflection he is also the contrast against every other male character, Achaean and Trojan, in the Iliad.

What does this mean?

-Cowardice; he's slack and unwilling as Hektor accuses him of. No way to know if this is specifically because he's always afraid, as in the moment we see before his duel against Menelaos, since being unwilling to fight in deadly combat could be for many different reasons. (He is not always slack and unwilling, however; he is out there on the battlefield with the rest at the beginning of Book 3, and after Book 6 he is, as far as we know, out there with the rest of the Trojans, from beginning to end. His unreliability in his martial efforts is another angle.)

-He is one of, if not the worst, fighters among the commanders, on both sides. His martial prowess isn't up to snuff and as we see in Book 3 where Hektor calls him out on retreating, he notes that Paris' beauty would have the Achaeans believe Paris is one of the Trojans' foremost champions. But he's not, both because of his cowardice and his lack of martial ability, and tying into this, then, is;

-Paris' beauty. As noted earlier with Nireus, physical beauty not backed up by martial prowess makes you less than, and the epithet used for Paris to call him godlike is specifically about his physical looks. There are other epithets (also sometimes used of Paris) that mean "godlike" in a more general way, but the one most often used of Paris is specific. And, that particular word is what's used when Paris first leaps forward in Book 3; the narrative is using theoeides every single time Paris' name is used in that scene, and so we get something like this, from J. Griffin in his Homer on Life and Death (1980): "…the poet makes it very clear that the beauty of Paris is what characterizes him, and is at variance with his lack of heroism…" as well as from Ransom in his article: "Again the suggestion is that Paris’ beauty is empty, and that he is lacking the courage or other manly characteristics that would render it honourable. […] Paris is set against Menelaos, a ‘real’ man by implication, and he is told that his skill with the lyre and his beauty would be no help to him then."

-His pretty hair gets insulted at least once (by Hektor) and potentially twice, the second time by Diomedes in Book 11 (the phrase used is uncertain whether it's about Paris' hair or his bow; that it could be his hair, being worn in a particular style, has been an idea from ancient times). And we know what sort of fuss the Iliad makes of pretty hair in men who do not otherwise live up to being properly masculine according to its ethos.

-Being an archer. The bow wasn't the manliest weapon around, and the Iliad disparages its use on the battlefield (selectively!). Paris is basically our archetypical archer, who gets insulted for being an archer and less manly because of that.

-His focus on dancing and music, as brought up by both Hektor and Aphrodite (and, though in a more general insulting context with other sons being mentioned as well, by Priam). The problem is, again, of course not his skill or interest in and with these things, but that he is better at these than combat and that he shows more interest in them and probably puts more effort in when it comes to them, too.

-His sexuality. As noted earlier, a man should show moderation and self-restraint. Paris, giving in to his desires and having sex in the middle of the day and during a tense moment, even if the forces aren't supposed to be fighting at that very point in time (neither he nor Helen would know Athena has induced Pandaros into breaking the truce), is certainly not showing any sort of moderation. I can't emphasize enough how much this isn't some epitome of macho male sexuality and prowess. Rather, this is the epitome of feminized weakness to sex, and Paris throws himself whole-heartedly into it.

-Paris' physical presentation. There is a lot of focus on his dress and how it makes him look (Aphrodite practically objectifies him for Helen's pleasure when she describes him to her!), and that his clothes are gorgeus. Again, have a quote from Ransom about that Aphrodite-Helen scene: "This scene captures his essence perfectly. Once more Paris’ looks and dress are emphasised […] and, in Aphrodite’s speech, the poet explicitly disassociates him from his martial endeavour." Connected to this we have his first appearance earlier in this book, where he's described as not wearing full armour but a leopard pelt. Here's Griffin again: "[…] so he has to change into proper armour before he can fight - and we are to supply the reason: because he looked glamorous in it." Now, I don't think it's that simple, because other people wear animal pelts in the Iliad; Agamemnon and Menelaos both do so, as does Diomedes and Dolon. However, Agamemnon and Menelaos both wear theirs as part of a full martial dress and they're clearly meant as part of a display of authority and martial prowess and Diomedes, though he's not otherwise fully armoured as this is part of his dress during the meeting before the night raid, is clearly meant to be similarly glorified (Dolon is more of a question, considering how he's portrayed otherwise). Paris is specifically not wearing a full set of armour, even if he apparently has it at home, so in the end I'd agree with Griffin that, given the other instances of Paris' clothing being extravagant/beautiful, this is indeed an instance of "because he looked glamorous in it".

But as Ruby Blondell puts it: "The destructive power of "feminine" beauty is most ostentatiously displayed, among mortals, in the person not of Helen but of Paris. In contrast to the veiling of her looks, Paris's dangerous beauty is displayed, glorified, and also castigated. […] His appearance is unusually decorative, even in battle. His equipment is "most beautiful" (6.321), glorious, and elaborate (6.504), and his outfit includes such exotic details as a leopard skin (3.17) and a "richly decorated strap (polukestos himas) under his tender throat" (3.371)." (Helen of Troy (2013))

-His attitude towards the whole (Homeric) heroic ethos of the Iliad. Not just his unwillingness or lack of martial prowess, but rather the "personal motto" he expresses to Hektor in Book 6; "victory shifts from man to man". And, while I wouldn't say this is at all a typical mark of an effeminate man in terms of the Ancient Greek outlook on these matters, you do have to set it in connection to his other martial "failings". As Kirk in his The Iliad, a Commentary, vol. 1 (1985/2001) says: "He thus attributes success in battle to more or less random factors, discounting his personal responsibility and performance." and, another point of view from Muellner in The meaning of Homeric εὔχομαι through its formulas (1976) about this same "motto":

-As a brief little point, when it comes to his being a lyrist; that, too, was often edged in ideas of effeminacy, so while, of course, no man is effeminate just because they may take up the lyre at some point, if you dedicate your life to it, that starts to have an effect on how you're viewed.

So what you have, then, in sum is Paris being very much non-masculine - or at least not conforming to the martial and cultural expectations and mores of the Iliad's/the Homeric masculine ethos. Even if you add in/change some of how the Trojans might view things, Paris would without a doubt still be non-conforming. Myth-wise, he certainly is so, both before and after the Persian Wars and the changes to the Trojans' general perception at the hands of the Athenian tragedians happened.

Here's Christopher Ransom again, to tie things up: "If gender is performance, Paris is simply not playing his part; if ‘being a man’ requires a concerted effort and a conscious choice, it seems as though Paris’ choices are in opposition to those of his more heroic brother."

IV. And lastly, some scattered quotes from ancient sources about Paris, roughly ordered from earliest to latest:

"No! my son was exceedingly handsome, and when you saw him your mind straight became your Aphrodite; for every folly that men commit, they lay upon this goddess, [990] and rightly does her name begin the word for “senselessness”; so when you caught sight of him in gorgeous foreign clothes, ablaze with gold, your senses utterly forsook you." (Euripides, Trojan Women)

-This one is pretty straightforward, especially keeping in mind all the above and Edith Hall's discussion of the words connected to eastern "barbarians" by this point.

"Vainly shall you; in Venus' favour strong, Your tresses comb, and for your dames divide On peaceful lyre the several parts of song; Vainly in chamber hide

From spears and Gnossian arrows, barb'd with fate, And battle's din, and Ajax in the chase Unconquer'd; those adulterous locks, though late, Shall gory dust deface." (Horace, Odes)

-Double focus on his hair, and through that, Paris' behaviour, all of it disassociating him from martial effort and into a more "feminine" sphere.

"[…]shall we endure a Phrygian eunuch hovering about the coasts and harbours of Argos […]" (Statius, Achilleid)

-Again, the "eunuch" here is "semivir", so Paris is explicitly emasculated and made out to be effeminate.

"And he washed him in the snowy river and went his way, stepping with careful steps, lest his lovely feet should be defiled of the dust; lest, if he hastened more quickly, the winds should blow heavily on his helmet and stir up the locks of his hair." and "he[Paris] stood, glorying in his marvellous graces. Not so fair was the lovely son whom Thyone bare to Zeus: forgive me, Dionysus! even if thou art of the seed of Zeus, he, too, was fair as his face was beautiful." (Colluthus, Rape of Helen)

-I don't think I need to say much about that dainty description of Paris' behaviour and the care he takes to still look as put together and beautiful for when he reaches Sparta, do I?

The second quote, though, I think deserves some comment, because Collutus twice in short order compares Paris to Dionysos, and as we saw in Hall's book, Dionysus in the Bacchae is associated not just with a foreign man, but someone who would be tarred with the stereotypes of the eastern "barbarian". And Dionysos has long, of course, been portrayed with a particularly feminized beauty, not just in drama. On top of this, much earlier than Colluthus we have Cratinus' Dionysalexandros, a satyr play where Dionysos takes Paris' place for both the Judgement and kidnapping Helen. To note is that while the satyrs are followers of Dionysos, their uses as chorus in satyr plays wouldn't necessarily have them attached to Dionysos (often, they seem in fact to have removed themselves from him). And in this circumstance, then, Paris isn't just compared to the effeminate Dionysos, Dionysos straight up (though disguised as Paris) replaces him for a part of the play.

It all starts in the Iliad, but it certainly doesn't end there, and by the end Paris' effeminacy is just all the more explicitly stated in text as effeminacy.

(While the other sources mentioned here would either have to be bought or found… in other ways /cough, Christopher Ransom's article can be read right here: https://www.academia.edu/355314/Aspects_of_Effeminacy_and_Masculinity_in_the_Iliad )

[perroulisses]

HOLD UP NEREUS AND NIREUS ARE TWO DIFFERENT GUYS??????

[zagreusbff]

“Nireus, the most handsome of the Greeks who came to Troy, except for great Achilles.”

- The Iliad, book 2.

you heard it here first guys, Achilles is the prettiest girl around!

[helluvaoutlaw]

*Newspaper article on the Davy Jones Gazette*:

"Duke Vephar Brutally Slain by Mysterious Assassin in The Night"

In a shocking turn of events, Duke Vephar, a prominent and highly revered member of the Ars Goetia demon family, was brutally murdered in the dead of night. The fiendish aristocrat, known for his influence and power within the underworld, fell victim to an unknown assailant who wielded an angelic blade, leaving the Ars Goetia family reeling with disbelief and fear.

Duke Vephar, renowned for his cunning intellect and formidable strength, held a position of great importance among the demon hierarchy. His sudden and violent demise has sent shockwaves throughout the infernal realm, raising questions about the stability and security of demonkind.

The circumstances surrounding Duke Vephar's murder remain shrouded in mystery. Two servants inside the palace report hearing the distinct sound of a rattlesnake tail coming from their master's bedroom before the deadly attack occurred. The use of an angelic blade has fueled speculation and fear among demons.

Authorities within the Envy ring have launched a full-scale investigation into the heinous crime, but progress has been slow as they struggle to identify any leads or suspects. The lack of tangible evidence has only deepened the sense of unease and paranoia gripping the underworld.

As the investigation into Duke Vephar's murder continues, demons across the infernal domain remain on edge, wary of the lurking danger that now threatens their once-secure existence. The brutal slaying of such a revered figure serves as a chilling reminder that even the most powerful among them are not immune to the perils that lurk in the shadows of Hell.

Duke Vephar, husband to Lady Nerissa and father of two children (Calypso and Nireus), commanded twenty-nine legions of demons, wielding authority over the vast expanse of the waters and the ominous depths below.

Great Duke Vephar's dominion over the seas was legendary, his influence extending far and wide as he guided armoured ships laden with ammunition and weapons through treacherous waters. With a mere gesture, he could transform calm seas into a maelstrom of fury, conjuring storms that would strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest sailors.Yet, amidst his powers of destruction and chaos, Vephar possessed the ability to inflict agonizing torment upon mortal flesh.

With a mere whisper, he could sentence humans to a gruesome fate, causing putrefying sores and wounds to fester and breed with writhing worms, ensuring a slow and agonizing demise that stretched over three harrowing days.

Indeed, the passing of Great Duke Vepar leaves a void in the infernal realm that will be felt deeply by all who knew of his power and influence.

He will be missed.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

*Meanwhile, in an unknown location.*

Poor bastard never stood a chance...hehehehe...

[generalluxun]

Fanfiction: Chasing a Dream Chapter 1(of 14)

Alt Season 5, Adrienette, Original Akumas, Road Trips, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chlodemption, and so much more! Chapter 1 below the cut. part of the @mlbigbang @apopcornkernel @nireu-art, inixyyl, and @mantabanter As Beta, and Artists respectively.

Chapter 1:Strike Out

Flairmidable held the ball of the Dog miraculous up triumphantly and smirked at his uncle. "Fetch."

Nothing happened.

Flairmidable frowned at the ball. "Fetch!" he commanded again. "Fetch!"

Still the ball did not move. Gabriel clenched his fists at his sides. "Another deception, nephew?"

Flairmidable shook his head quickly. "No, I swear to you, Uncle. There is no way she would have detransformed without getting the dog back from me. There is no logical reason this shouldn't work. Fetch!"

----------------

Marinette hummed to herself as she strolled up the street toward the manor. It was odd that Adrien had missed their rendezvous, but she was in no mood to worry. Adrien and Cat Noir, both by her side. It had been a dream come true. She used the walk to bask in the memory. Life would pile on problems soon enough.

She was shocked from her reverie by the wall of the Agreste compound shattering in front of her. A figure in orange flew out of the dust before impacting the storefront across the street. A purple figure—Hawkmoth!—pursued and lunged after the other—Flairmidable! Adrien!

Marinette dove into the swirling dust and debris. Under cover, she transformed and Ladybug leapt out, yo-yo already spinning. "Hawkmoth! Get away from him!"

Hawkmoth turned from where he crouched over Flairmidable. "Ladybug? Always where you aren't wanted. You've recruited a little liar this time, and it nearly cost you everything. But I'll let you go, for now. I've got what's mine."

"Who says I'm letting you go?"

Ladybug lashed out with her yo-yo; Hawkmoth dodged. He jumped over a second strike and landed on the roof of the store. The third he avoided by sliding down the backside of the roof. Ladybug tensed to pursue but then remembered: Adrien! He was down, maybe hurt. She ran to Flairmidable's side instead.

Flairmidable was pushing himself slowly to his hands and knees. Only his second time out and one on one against Hawkmoth. Ladybug reached down to help him up. "Take it easy Adrien, it's okay. I'm here.” 

Someone landed lightly beside her and Ladybug turned to fight only to end up blinking into the green gaze of her partner.

"M'lady?” Cat Noir tilted his head. “What happened?"

Ladybug sagged in relief. This had been too stressful of a day. "Hawkmoth showed up, and attacked Flairmidable. I just got here myself." She crouched down again and lightly touched Flairmidable’s shoulder. "Are you alri-"

The look of panic and terror on Flarmidable's face stunned Ladybug. Oh, Adrien. But in a flash the look was gone, a quick calculating expression replacing it, then followed by contrition. Flairmidable hung his head. "Ladybug, I- I'm not who you think I am."

A trickle of panic ran down Ladybug's back. She glanced at Cat Noir then looked back at Flairmidable with a nervous laugh. "What, haha, what do you mean? Are you worried about Hawkmoth getting the better of you? You shouldn't be! He's extremely dangerous. He gives even us experienced heroes a run for our money, isn't that right, Cat Noir?"

An answer wasn't forthcoming so Ladybug applied a light elbow and got a begrudging, "Yeah. He's no kitten, that's for sure."

Flairmidable got to his feet, shaking his head. "No Ladybug, I mean I'm not Adrien Agreste."

Cat Noir’s confused, "Adrien Agreste?"

Was drowned out by Ladybug's, "Who—? Felix!"

Shock and fear mingled but anger outclassed them. Ladybug's mind raced. She had given the miraculous to Felix. She had to get it back. Ladybug held out her hand.

Her tone brooked no argument. "Give me the miraculous. Now."

Flairmidable's expression remained contrite as he transformed back and handed over the collar. Ladybug didn't let herself believe it for a moment. Felix had nearly fooled her before, and had fooled many of her friends. Yet as he stood before her in Adrien’s clothes, and his hair styled into Adrien’s signature ruffle, she still couldn’t tell them apart. The boy I love—why can’t I recognize him? 

As he handed off the miraculous he explained, "My cousin and I switched places, so he could avoid going away. I wanted to keep his secret so I played along, but after the battle I got nervous. This seemed like something Adrien should know about himself. I was heading back to the manor to try and find him when Hawkmoth attacked me."

Ladybug had too many questions. How did Hawkmoth track him? Why was he Hawkmoth and not Shadowmoth? Where is Adrien now? One made her stomach churn above all others though. How did I mistake Felix for Adrien… again?

She glanced at Cat Noir. Her partner seemed wound up even more tightly than she was. His blond hair was practically bristling and his glowing green eyes had a darkness to them that she had never seen before. Instinctively, she laid a hand on his shoulder to soothe him before turning back to Felix.

"I can understand why you did what you did Felix,” Ladybug said, “but you lied to me and you put yourself and the miraculous in danger by behaving recklessly. Do you have your own way home, or will you need assistance?"

Felix looked between the two of them. Ladybug felt Cat Noir tense under her touch, and for a moment, thought he might actually pounce. But before that crucial tipping point was reached, Felix said, "I have my own way home. Once again, I am sorry Ladybug. I did not mean to deceive you."

Ladybug said nothing. She waited until Felix was already far away before taking her eyes off of him, surveying the damage. She swept her gaze back to the blown out wall of the compound. Adrien! Ladybug ran for the breach. “Cat Noir, we need to be sure everyone inside’s safe!”

Her command spurred him into action, but not the one she expected. “M’Lady! I don’t trust Felix. I’m going to put a tail on that dog. I’ll contact you if I find anything!”

Ladybug turned, but Cat Noir was already vaulting away. “Oh Kitty,” she said worriedly,”Don’t go getting into fights with strays. You’re better than that.” As she picked her way through the rubble of the breach, Ladybug hoped she was right. 

The yard seemed to be in good shape. The rear doors were closed. Ladybug peered in with a frown. It looked deserted. She hesitated before trying them; during all her previous visits to the Agreste manor, something had gone wrong. “Adrien?” She called. “Mr. Ageste?” Don’t be afraid. You’ve got a good reason to be here this time. Go slow, don’t pry, just look for damage or anyone hurt.

She stepped into the ballroom and scanned. A loud *click* startled her and she spun to find… the door had closed behind her. She looked up and spotted the automatic closer, something so easily overlooked. But perfectly sensible for a man who doesn’t like the outside world sneaking into his home. What am I even looking for? There was no outward sign of damage. Neither Flairmidable nor Hawkmoth had particularly destructive powers though. The wall shot must’ve been a direct hit with Hawkmoth’s cane. Why here? Why as Hawkmoth? Ladybug reached the far doors and opened them to peek into the Atrium. There was no damage there that she could see either. “Mr. Agreste? Adrien?”

Still nothing. Ladybug crept silently into the atrium. The ground floor doors seemed closed. This time the click of the ballroom doors closing didn’t spook her at least. She turned and started up the stairs.

She was ready this time. Agreste manor seemed to have it in for her, so when another click sounded behind her Ladybug spun, Yo-yo at the ready. She came face to face with… Felix? No, he was dressed like Felix, but Felix was dressed like Adrien. So, who am I looking at? Ladybug ground her teeth in frustration, both at the situation and herself.

“Ladybug? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Felix-Adrien dropped the small day bag he had been carrying and rushed towards her.

“Stop!” Ladybug held up a hand, her insides knotting in uncertainty. “Who are you? Really?”

“Ladybug? It’s me, Adrien. I’m sorry. I switched places with my cousin to avoid going on this trip.” He stopped, hanging his head, just as Felix had done before. “But you can’t just run from your problems. I came back to talk to my father.”

She wanted to believe him, she wanted so badly to believe. “Tell me something only Adrien would know!”

He was silent for a long moment then looked up. A smile was on his face, the true gentle smile she had fallen in love with long ago. “Remember when Simon Says was attacking the house? You caught me in the shower trying to get me to safety. I asked if I could put my clothes on first and you said ‘If you–”

“--that’s good! Good! That’s good!” Ladybug waved her arms to cut him off. She felt like her cheeks must be redder than her suit. She stepped down to him. “I’m so glad it’s you, Adrien. Today’s been crazy.” She rolled her eyes and flashed a nervous smile. “Even for a Ladybug. There’s so much I want to talk to you about, but when I came here, Hawkmoth was attacking your cousin just outside. I came inside to check on you. I haven’t seen anyone though.”

Felix-Adrien blinked. “Felix? Is he okay?” He looked around. ”Father should be he–” He looked back at Ladybug who was now flexing her fingers in the air, eyes angled up from his own. “Ladybug?”

“Can- Can I please just… Fix it? It’s unnerving right now.”

Adrien followed her eyes up to his hair, laughed, then leaned in. ”I’d be honored, Ladybug.”

Ladybug ran her fingers through his hair mercilessly, ruining the perfectly smooth lay of it and mussing it up into the more natural look Adrien normally wore. He ran his own hand through it once after she was done and flashed her a model smile.

“Better?”

“So much better.” The relief was a physical thing. One part of the world, back to normal. “Felix is okay. He’s on his way home, I believe, with Cat Noir following him. You said your father should be here?”

Adrien frowned. “He should be.” He took out his phone, opening contacts and hitting call.

The volume was up; Ladybug could hear each ring and then the sound of the phone being answered.

“Adrien? What is the meaning of this disturbance?”

“Father? Ladybug is here. She says Hawkmoth attacked Felix outside our home.”

“Here? Aren’t you supposed to be on a train, Adrien?”

Adrien winced. “Yes, Father. I’m not, though. I’m home. Did you hear any fighting?”

“I heard noises before, I assumed it was some noisome public construction in the street. Now, you’ve disturbed my work more than enough for one day, Adrien. Unless it is an emergency it can wait until I am finished here. And we will talk about your disobedience at dinner tonight, young man.”

The fact that Adrien’s only response was an excited, “You’re coming to dinner?” broke Ladybug’s heart.

“Goodbye, Adrien.”

Ladybug wanted to fight Gabriel Agreste right this second, even more so when Adrien gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry for my father. He can be a bit hard to reach when he is deep in his work, and I did kinda try to skip out on a major brand project.”

Ladybug reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. “But if you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t. It’s not right forcing you to leave school in the middle of the semester; forcing you to leave all your friends.”

Adrien kept that same apologetic smile. “Maybe, but, maybe it might be good to think. It’s not like I can’t talk to my friends. For everything else she might fib about, Lila wasn’t wrong when she said I could keep touch with my friends via video calls. I’m used to missing school, and it might help me sort out a few things to be away from it all for a little bit.”

You and me both. Ladybug couldn’t argue against something she herself wished she could do. Instead, she reached out and gave Adrien a light hug before stepping back. “If you do go, just know Paris will miss you and we’ll be waiting for your return.”

Adrien’s smile was genuine, not a hint of the model about it. He slow-blinked at her before replying, “Then, I’d better be sure not to keep Paris waiting too long.”

Ladybug’s brain replayed his reply. Then it did it again. The air took on a pink hazy tint and time seemed to slow down. Ladybug felt a ‘tee hee’ bubble up before she could stop it. The small sound snapped her out of her daydream. She twisted her head aside in a rush to conceal her blush, and surprisingly, Adrien did the same.

Ladybug fumbled her yo-yo out. “I’d better get going! Take care, and safe travels, Adrien! I– I mean, we’ll count the days!”

She was running for the doors before he could reply, and didn’t look back once until she curled up on her bed in a pile of confusion and squees.

---------------

"It's still happening, and get this: Gabriel Agreste himself is coming along now!"

The sharp voice cut through the air and Marinette's cloud of thought as the school day ended. Lila. A quick check picked out her mark talking to a little clique of students on the stairs up to the second floor of the school. Marinette ducked out of sight under the stairs. She took a page from her other nemesis’ book and pulled out her phone, hitting record as Lila continued.

"Can you believe it? I mean, I can. Gabriel—I call him Gabriel—knows I am the best. It only makes sense he'd take a special interest in this project. A weeks-long project is the perfect opportunity to show him just how much Adrien and I are meant for each other. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if we came back with news of a betrothal. I mean, for when we're eighteen of course, but why hide it? Adrien couldn't find a better match."

Marinette wasn't sure which was harder: not screaming, not throwing her phone, or not losing her lunch. She managed all three, though. As the group descended into titters and congratulatory encouragement, Marinette pocketed her phone and headed for the doors. Think it through. Do it twice. Impulse almost cost us against Risk.

------------------

"Why are you still going through with this project, sir?"

Gabriel Agreste twisted his hands in the small of his back, gazing out a window at the ruined wall in the yard. "A new approach, Nathalie. A riskier one, to be sure, but one with potential."

Nathalie moved up beside him, the hydraulic whirr of her exosuit a reminder of his failure. "I suppose it is good I haven't unpacked. What is our new approach?"

Gabriel tilted his head, regarding Nathalie's faint reflection in the glass. "Fear. I have been engaging in physical conflict, which has never been my domain, and leaving my skills to rot. Paris loves Ladybug because they suffer little under her protection. We fight her; she repairs the damage. They are accustomed to it. On this trip, Shadowmoth will inflict wounds across the globe. Wounds Ladybug will not heal. Communities will suffer, for what? Because one person won't surrender their magical trinkets to another. Shadowmoth will, of course, be reviled too, but that mask is merely a tool. Ladybug is the hero. It is her problem to solve, her pressure to bear. We will win a war of minds, Nathalie. By the end we will have people worldwide howling for Ladybug's surrender."

He saw hesitation in Nathalie's reflection. "But sir, to start battles you know Ladybug will not arrive to? To kill civilians without having a chance to claim the miraculous?"

"None of this matters, Nathalie. None of this will have happened. When my wish is granted, the last fourteen years will be undone."

Nathalie's reflection vanished as she turned away from the window. "...Yes, sir."

----------------------

Ladybug watched Cat Noir as he approached across the roofs of Paris. So much was building up right now, focusing was hard. She needed to deal with her feelings for Adrien, with giving the Dog miraculous to Felix by mistake, with Lila’s new gambit and trying to sort out how to respond, and yet she also needed to be here for her partner.

Things had been strained, and as he vaulted through the sky the moonlight reflection on his black leather costume turned it briefly white; reminding her why. Her heart seized, but in the wake of it all another thought wormed its way into her mind. Is this fair to him? Why is he paying for my fears? I thought he’d want the freedom from having to be a hero all the time, but it’s not the same. He wants to be out here. Why don’t I want to be out here? What good is a hero who’s afraid of all the really important things in her life?

Cat Noir’s graceful landing interrupted her thoughts. He spun his baton in one hand and quirked a brow at her. “A day for heavy thinking, M’Lady? Or just admiring your purrtner by starlight? You know we cats love attention.”

And just like that he could make her smile. She noticed the little changes. His words may flirt but his eyes held good humor rather than longing. He postured but kept himself out of her personal space. Her kitty was trying, changing, doing this for her. Do I owe it to him to try to change too? To do what? I love Adrien, but it seems I don’t even know the boy I love. Maybe… I should try loving the boy I know? That’s crazy! There’s no way! No way? Isn’t being Ladybug about finding a way when there is no way?

“M’Lady, you’re staring again. I’ll be blushing soon.” Cat Noir’s voice was a gentle whisper.

Ladybug shook her head. Not enough time, too many things; she would have to consider this later. It was time for patrol. “Sorry again, kitty. I’m a bit lost in my head right now. I’m still rattled from the near miss with Flairmidable and Risk.” She realized she was biting her knuckle and startled. “I want to talk to you about all that. I need to do more to keep you in the loop. I just can’t seem to get enough time to translate my thoughts into actions lately.”

Cat Noir stepped closer. He reached for her hand, and after the briefest of pauses for the subtle exchange of body language to indicate her consent, he took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. He brought her hand up and began rubbing across her palm with his thumbs. Instantly, Ladybug’s brain wanted to focus on nothing else, or maybe just nothing at all. The relief and reassurance in that touch was so complete.

Cat Noir spoke softly. “I– Thank you M’Lady. I know I’ve been a little unhelpful lately. I didn’t tell you how I felt.”

Cat Noir paused and put on a toothy grin before tilting his head and turning it into a self-deprecating smile.

“Well, I told you one of the ways I felt, entirely too often. I didn’t share other things though. That’s on me. I promise to try and be a better kitty though.”

At that, Ladybug’s eyes snapped open from her sedate daze. She turned her hand in his grip and squeezed his hand. Never mind that this left their hands clasped together. Denying affection for her partner was always a silly idea. Affection didn’t need to be love; it was its own warmth.

 “Cat Noir, you’re an amazing partner. I haven’t been showing it enough, but I promise I will too. I’ve been focusing too much on just keeping things as they are, because all this is still very scary and new. I don’t know what a little change could do.” Actually, I know all too well. Should I tell him? Soon. I need to think about how. I don’t want to hurt him.

“We’ll figure it out together?” Cat Noir prompted. Their joined hands fell between them, but neither let go.

Ladybug smiled. She shifted her weight to go in for a hug, but balked. Would that be too much after all her talk of setting boundaries? She didn’t want to confuse him right now. She was confused herself. Relationships are hard. 

She settled for a smile. “I’d like that.”

Cat Noir took a deep breath. His gaze went from hopeful to hesitant, and Ladybug tensed. She squeezed his hand to cover for it. He opened his mouth but closed it again.

“Kitty?” Ladybug prompted. “Now’s not the time to hide something. We have to start this off right don’t we?”

His eyes turned grateful. “Yeah, I thought I would have figured out how to say this by now. I don’t want to sound like it is coming from a bad place, especially with this little mini-breakthrough.”

She felt his thumb brush the backs of her knuckles. He took another deep breath.

“I have to go away for a while, m’Lady. I hate to do it, but my family needs me. I won’t be in Paris. I won’t be able to be here for you. I hate everything about leaving you, but at the same time. I think it might help me—help us—if I can get my head together, too.”

Ladybug’s stomach dropped. First Adrien almost vanished from her life. Now Cat Noir was going… again! This time, though, she had a chance. She could convince him to stay. I just need to let him know he’s needed. He’ll stay with me then. She opened her mouth but only a hoarse croak came out.

“I’m coming back!” Cat Noir added in a panic. He crushed her hand to his chest. “This isn’t like last time m’Lady. I’m coming back, just as soon as I can. We’re partners, and I won’t ever leave your side for a moment longer than I must. We can talk about the particulars. If– If you need Plagg while I am gone I understand, but know I’m coming back for him.” Cat Noir’s earnest tone rose to a teasing lilt, “Besides, unless you’re rich I don’t think you can afford his cheese addiction for long.”

From rock bottom to snorting with mirth. God, I love you kitty. … I what? Ladybug’s suddenly flushed cheeks earned her a confused look from her partner. She licked her lips to fill the silence with something, anything. “Keep Plagg with you, Kitty. We’ll miss you, but we’ll find a way to manage. It won’t be the same, but I have our allies now, and we’re a team. A team means no one person has to always bear the burden.”

Cat Noir raised his free hand to touch her nose. “That’s right, m’Lady. No one.”

Ladybug flushed anew, trapped by her own words. They were still linked at their hands and she squeezed again, taking strength from his presence. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, Kitty.” Ladybug turned her head to look out at the night skyline. “How long before you go?”

“Tonight.”

Her head jerked back. No time! Always no time. Why? “Do… Do you have time for a patrol?”

“I have time to visit the top of the Eiffel Tower, if you would. Don’t worry, there’s nothing waiting up there for you. I just want a few lingering moments with my Lady and my City and nothing else. I want to carry you both with me while I am gone.”

This time she hugged him. She launched herself at him and squeezed for all she was worth. He laughed softly, staggering under the attack before hugging her back almost as fiercely. 

“I’ll miss you, Kitty.”

“I’ll miss you too, Ladybug.”

-----------------

With a ‘spots off’, Marinette sat down on her bed. First almost losing Adrien, and now losing Cat Noir. The blows kept coming. Even if she felt like she was making some kind of progress in sorting out her feelings, life was giving her no chances. She picked up her phone and, spotting a notification, swiped it open immediately. She had to reread it twice before her brain would accept the words on the glowing screen.

Adrien: Hi Marinette. I’m sorry you have to hear this from me via text, but my father didn’t want a big send off like last time, at school. We’re going on the ‘First Love’ tour. I’ll try to text you every day if I can. If you want me to, that is. And if it’s okay, I’d like to maybe get ice cream when I get back? You’ve been there for me time and time again, but I feel like there’s still so much I don’t know about you. I hope this doesn’t come off as weird.

Tikki floated up with a cookie snack beside Marinette, and the poor Kwami took the brunt of Marinette’s internal explosion. “Tikki! Adrien’s going away! Cat Noir is too! At the same time! Do you know what this means?”

The little polka-dot Kwami blinked her eyes expectantly. “What does it mean, Marinette?”

“It means, after all my soul searching, I won’t be able to figure out how I feel about either of them!”

Tikki flopped onto Marinette’s pillow and took an overly large bite of her cookie, chewing with an uncharacteristic savagery for a moment before swallowing. “Is that all? I mean, if that’s all, then I wouldn’t worry too much. You have time. You don’t need to figure out your entire future before your fifteenth birthday, Marinette.”

Marinette flopped over onto her pillow, narrowly missing Tikki. She pulled her pigtails and let out a frustrated groan. “Why is love hard? I mean, I love Adrien right? I’ve known that since that first day. But what kind of a girlfriend can I be if I don’t know him well enough not to be duped? And why did Cat Noir have to change and become…”

Marinette rolled onto her back, letting her pigtails go and staring at her ceiling. Slowly she raised one hand to lay it against her chest, feeling an unaccustomed thumping both inside and out.

“... nice. Not just funny, flirty, goofy, or a jokester, but actually nice. Why can I see that smile now when I close my eyes sometimes, Tikki? Am I cheating on someone I’m not even dating yet?”

Her Kwami drifted into Marinette’s field of vision, looking down with concern. “Marinette, I don’t think that counts. You need to stop trying to feel with your head and think with your heart. They’re not made for that.”

Tikki settled and patted Marinette on the cheek.

“What is it you like about Cat Noir, Marinette?”

Marinette rolled carefully to avoid Tikki this time, pushing herself up on her elbows. “Nothing… really. I mean, he’s pushy, and always throwing himself into danger… to protect me. He never takes anything seriously! No matter how bad it gets he never stops smiling… I can always look to him when I need a boost. I swear, he’s so frustrating. You think he’s one thing then when you’re not looking… you find out he’s nothing like you expected at all.”

Tikki perched on Marinette’s forearm, her mouth open in anticipation. “And…?”

Marinette picked at her pillow, the next few words dropping out begrudgingly. “I never got to really see Adrien in action as a hero. I bungled both times. When I close my eyes, though, and think of what it would be like… I see Cat Noir.”

Marinette sat up abruptly, sending Tikki spinning through the air. Marinette grabbed her pillow and screamed into it before dropping it into her lap.

“How messed up is that, Tikki? Can you imagine if Cat Noir was Adrien?” Marinette stopped. Something was tickling the back of her brain. What if Cat Noir was Adrien?

Marinette shook her head to chase the thought away. Silly, stupid Marinette, you know better! You’ve seen them at the same time, right? Not that you haven’t been in two places at once half a dozen times. UGH, if Cat Noir were Adrien it would be so… so… easy.

She shook this thought away too. It was too crazy to entertain. Even just hinting at the idea was tiring her out. She stared at her cupped hands in her lap for several minutes until a concerned Tikki floated over to sit in them. “Marinette, are you okay?”

Marinette lightly scritched Tikki’s tummy with a fingernail. “Yeah Tikki, sorry. I kinda want to think about something else for a while, if that’s okay?”

Tikki nodded. ”Of course, Marinette. I’ll even give you until your sixteenth birthday to have your whole life planned out!”

The polka-dot Kwami giggled, and Marinette turned the scritches into a friendly poke. Tikki flew off towards the miracle box and Marinette turned to pick up her phone, looking at the message. Taking a deep breath she began to type.

Marinette: I’d love to hear from you whenever you are able! I’ll miss you a lot. Ice cream sounds awesome. I hope you enjoy your trip, and if you can’t, feel free to complain to me about it as much as you want 😁 Where are you stopping first?

----------------------------

“You don’t think Adrien will fall for it, do you?” Alya’s voice was cautious but concerned. Marinette could tell her friend was balancing the video evidence against Marinette’s past with Lila.

Marinette poked her turkey-on-brioche sandwich listlessly. “Adrien? No. Gabriel? That’s what I’m scared of. Even if you still don’t believe me about everything else, Alya, you have to admit Lila is persuasive. She gets what she wants.”

Alya replayed the video. “Well, all of us will put in a good word for you every time Adrien calls us. Aside from that I’m not sure what we can do. You can’t��” Alya made a flying gesture with one hand “—can you?”

Marinette shook her head. She settled for pulling bits of the turkey out of her sandwich and eating them without the bread. “No, I’ve learned the hard way what abusing the miraculous for your own gain leads to. Even if I could, what would Ladybug say? I can’t just show up as Marinette in random cities either.”

Alya sighed, passing the phone back. She reached across and rubbed Marinette’s back with one hand. “Sometimes it sucks being the responsible heroes, doesn’t it? Just once it’d be nice to be able to be selfish and have it work out.”

Marinette was half-listening. Alya’s words echoed around in Marinette’s mind waiting for a chance to sink in. As they did, Marinette's unfocused gaze resolved on the person she was staring at. Two added itself to two and Marinette banged her fist on the table. “That’s it!”

“What is it?” Alya scrambled to catch her drink which Marinette’s table abuse had upset.

“I’ll let you know if it works,” Marinette said, with a grin she borrowed from Cat Noir. With her head finally clear and her stomach settled, she crossed the lunchroom to a table that had never held more than two people.

Marinette took a deep breath as she approached; she opened her mouth.

“What do you want, Du-pain-Cheng?” ACK! How can she do that when I’m still behind her?

Marinette groped for her focus one more time then stepped around, hands clasped behind her back, and peeked at the seated Chloé. “Well…”

All her words dried up. It was like trying to talk to Adrien, but from a different place. Chloé’s sharp sapphire gaze drilled into her and everything seemed so instantly childish. Marinette didn’t even have the advantage of friendly support at this table. An audience to play off of might have given her strength, but here there was only Sabrina looking on with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

Marinette’s mind blanked, so she just dove in. “Lila’s going to try to marry Adrien while they’re on this trip and then he’ll be lost to us forever and then he’ll probably end up living in Italy for the rest of his life and we’ll never see him again!”

Close enough.

Chloé drew herself up under the verbal assault. Then after a brief silence in which Marinette felt all eyes in the lunchroom turning to the pair, she laughed. She laughed loud and harshly, covering her mouth with the back of one hand. “Oh Du-pain-Cheng…” Chloé flicked her ponytail and folded her arms. “You really have been working in that bakery too long. All that heat’s gone to your head. There’s absolutely no way–”

Marinette slapped her phone onto the table. Swipe, swipe, play.

She might as well have dropped a viper onto the table for the reaction she got. Chloé stared in confusion and horror at first, and then snatched up the phone. Her thumb stabbed replay. The short clip played again. Stab. Again. Again. Chloé’s face went from her usual bronze to pale, to flushed, to explosively red. “Why that long-eared, sausage-haired, fashion-deaf little cheater—!”

Marinette reached across to pry her phone from Chloé’s grip. “I was wrong about Kagami, and you were too.”

Chloé snapped out of her incandescent rage and narrowed her eyes at Marinette. I can’t lose her. I have to keep this going. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

Marinette held up a finger. “But I’m not wrong about Lila. This time, we really do have to stop her from sinking her claws into Adrien. He doesn’t want this, but that’s not something someone like Lila cares about.”

Distrust still loomed large on Chloé’s face. She pulled out her own phone. “Well, unlike you, Du-pain-Cheng, I don’t panic. I’ll have this all wrapped up in no time.”

Chloé tapped a name in her contacts and turned up the volume with a smug expression on her face. The line only rang once though before kicking over to a recording.

“Hi! You’ve reached the voicemail of Lila Rossi. I’m currently traveling the world for a big project with the Gabriel Agreste. I likely won’t have time to get back to you until it’s over, but leave a message and I’ll see what I can do.”

“SEND ME TO VOICEMAIL!!?” Chloé screamed at her phone before pitching it across the table. Sabrina, with a padded glove already on her hand, dove to catch it.

Marinette fought desperately not to laugh. It wouldn’t help, but ohhhh that was good. Instead she pointed out innocently, “Why use a phone? Isn’t it more fun in person? If only there was some way to follow them…”

Chloé, on the hook, jumped to her feet, knocking her table askew. “There is! I have a jet!” Chloé reached for her phone, which Sabrina supplied without missing a beat. She stabbed contacts again. “DADDY! I need the jet! I’m going to see Adrien! Now! Yes, now! You let ME worry about that, you just get me my jet!”

She hung up while her father was still stammering on the line and swept her molten blue gaze around the deathly quiet lunchroom.

“WHAT?”

Everyone took an instant interest in their food, except Marinette. She couldn’t believe how well this had worked, but there was one snag. “Now, Chloé? Don’t we need time to pack and get things in order, and talk to our–”

Chloé switched from anger to disdain fluidly. “We? Who says you’re going, Du-pain-Cheng? Get your own jet, mine’s full.”

Marinette was ready for this and played her trump card. “And where’s it going?”

Chloé huffed. “After Adrien of course. I got their flight plan from Li–” she cut herself off.

Marinette smiled ever so sweetly. ”What’s the first city?”

Chloé growled, “Munich.”

Marinette countered, “Venice.”

Chloe folded her arms again, shifting her weight to one foot. “Oh? And how would you know?”

Marinette went for the throat. “Adrien told me.”

For once, victory didn’t feel so sweet. Chloé’s eyes widened and then darted around the lunchroom where everyone was ignoring them all too conspicuously by this point. She lifted her phone as if it might contain some hidden truth before jerking her head away from it and grumbling, “Fine, you can come. Just this once though! Don’t get used to it. Luxury isn’t meant for baker girls.”

Chloé’s voice trailed off at the end, the retort barely audible. Where normally the fire of competition would be burning between them there was an emptiness Marinette couldn’t explain. Later. Focus! “Okay, so, we’ll meet up after school?”

Chloé regained a spark of herself. “After school? Now, Du-Pain-Cheng! You’ve got an hour to get packed. The limo will pick you up, or you’ll stay behind.”

Without waiting, Chloé stalked out of the lunch room, her food barely touched. Sabrina snagged an uneaten sandwich and jogged after her.

Marinette sagged in exhaustion. Little prickling tingles danced across her skin in reaction. She was still trying to process what she’d just gotten herself into when Alya laid an arm across her shoulders. “Well Marinette, that was certainly a show for the ages. I got it all on tape, too. That was either brilliant or insane. I can’t wait to hear which.”

Insane. The word shocked Marinette back to life. She turned and caught Alya by the front of her shirt. “I’ve got an hour! I need to pack! I need to tell my parents! I need to figure out what to do about school. Do you think this will take long? How long is a trip to Venice? Oh my God Alya, what do I do about La–”

Marinette bit off this last worry. Alya gently extracted Marinette’s clenched fists from her shirt. “One thing at a time Marinette. I think packing and your parents come first. Why don’t I walk with you? We’ve got until the end of lunch to sort this out?”

Alya prompted them into motion, and the walking helped Marinette’s brain to restart. She picked out the most important thing first. Once she was sure they weren’t within earshot of anyone else Marinette leaned in to explain. “I’m going to give you a miraculous-”

“Trixx?” Alya’s voice contained heartbreaking excitement. I wish I could.

Marinette shook her head, “I’m sorry Alya, but Shadowmoth knows who you are in that form now. I’m going to leave you the Ox. You can get to know Stompp, and he’ll help you keep threats at bay. I’ll have Kaalki with me and I can voyage back as soon as I get an alert. That should keep us safe. Cat Noir’s not available right now though, so you can’t expect support from him.”

Alya blinked. “What happened to Cat Noir?”

He might be visiting family, or he might be on a trip around the world. Marinette’s heart twisted at the uncertainty. She grimaced. “I don’t know everything, we try not to share too much information. He’ll be back though, so he could show up. I just don’t want you to expect him to if he won’t.”

Alya absorbed the information and after a brief moment nodded. “Sounds good. Do you want to leave any others behind? Shelter sure might come in handy.”

Marinette gave her friend a little elbow. “Your boyfriend wouldn’t recognize you as the Ox anyway. I’ll be bringing back everything we need when I come. I trust you, Alya. You’ll be fine. You’ve already been Ladybug.”

Alya grinned. “Yeah, you have a way of going on last-minute trips and leaving me to hold things together.”

Marinette blushed. “Sorry. This time, I didn’t know I was going until the same time you did though.”

Alya elbowed her back. “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I love you, Marinette.”

[olympic-paris]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more …

August 30

c.2000 B.C. - 1200 B.C. – In Greek mythology, Daphnis was a Sicilian shepherd who was said to be the inventor of pastoral poetry. According to tradition, he was the son of Hermes and a nymph, despite which Daphnis himself was mortal.

Daphnis is also described and portrayed as an eromenos, that is, a boy-lover to older men. His mother was said to have exposed him under a laurel tree, where he was found by shepherds, who raised him, and named after the tree under which he was found. He was also sometimes said to be Hermes' favourite or beloved (eromenos) rather than his son.

Pan also fell in love with him and taught him to play the pan pipes.

A naiad was in love with him and promised to be faithful to him. However, he was seduced, with the aid of wine, by the daughter of a king, and, in revenge, this nymph either blinded him or turned him to stone.

c.1280 B.C. – Hercules (Greek: Herakles) was not only the strongest of the heroes (even as a baby he killed two great serpents with his bare hands) but he was also the craziest (he murdered his first three sons in a fit of madness) and the smartest (what he could not accomplish by brute strength he achieved through guile). What is less well known is that he was as heroic in bed as he was in battle.

One time he was invited by King Thespios to help him rid his land of a huge lion that was terrorizing the countryside. When the king set eyes on Hercules he had a better idea: "Come and stay the night at my palace, and rest yourself before the hunt," said the king to Hercules, "and meet my family." The king's family was made up mostly of his fifty virgin daughters, for whom he had not found fitting husbands until then. That night Hercules made love to forty nine of them (the fiftieth was too shy). The next morning, he and the king went off to hunt the lion, and nine months later all forty-nine daughters gave birth to sons.

But much as he loved women, Hercules loved young men no less. Plutarch said that the number of his lovers was beyond counting. What we know for sure is that he had more than even the god Apollo (who was also a practitioner of male love). Most stories about the beloved boys of Hercules have been lost or destroyed, but among his lovers were said to be the young heroes Admetos, Iphitos, and Euphemos, all of them Argonauts; Elacatas, honored by the yearly Elacatia games in Sparta; and Abderus, an Opian boy and son of Hermes, whose love for Hercules cost him his life, and who was honored with his own festival in the city that bore his name.

Abderus was the young man to whom Hercules entrusted the man-eating mares of King Diomedes. Not strong enough to keep them in check, they tore him to shreds and devoured him. Heartbroken, Hercules built the city of Abdera in his memory.

There was also a myth, now lost, that claimed that Eurystheus, the king for whom Hercules performs his labors, was one of his lovers, and that Hercules undertook the labors in order to please him. If so, then male love becomes the central motive force of the Hercules cycle, just as the love between Achilles and Patroclos is the fire that drives the story of the Iliad.

Also among his lovers, but not so unlucky as Abderus, were Philoctetes who inherited Hercules's bow and arrows, and who was called upon to use them in the Trojan war, and Nestor, the youngest son of King Neleus, whom he grew to love more than any other lad. Nireus, Adonis, Jason, Corythus, Stychius, and Phrynx were reputed to have been amongst his lovers as well.

Of all his boy-man lovers however, the ones he loved the best (besides Nestor) were Iolaos of Thebes, and Hylas of Argos. Iolaos, was also his nephew and, though only sixteen, his helper in many of his labors. It was said that their love was such that Hercules found those labors easier when Iolaos watched him. He was Hercules' charioteer and beloved, just like Patroclos was for Achilles.

As Plutarch tells us: "And as to the [male] loves of Hercules, it is difficult to record them because of their number; but those who think that Iolaos was one of them do to this day worship and honor him, and make their loved ones swear fidelity at his tomb." And also, "It is a tradition likewise that Iolaos, who assisted Hercules in his labors and fought at his side, was beloved of him; and Aristotle observes that even in his time lovers pledged their faith at Iolaos' tomb." The Thebans thought so highly of Iolaos that they worshiped him together with Hercules, named their gymnasium after him, and in his honor held yearly contests, the Iolaeia.

As for the love between Hercules and Hylas, the poet Theocritus had this to say: "We are not the first mortals to see beauty in what is beautiful. No, even Amphitryon's bronze-hearted son, who defeated the savage Nemean lion, loved a boy-charming Hylas, whose hair hung down in curls. And like a father with a dear son he taught him all the things which had made him a mighty man, and famous.

"And they were inseparable, being together both day and night. That way the boy might grow the way he wanted him to, and being by his side attain the true measure of a man. When Jason sailed after the golden fleece, and all the nobles went with him invited from every city, to rich Iolkos he came too, the man of many labors, son of noble Alcmena.

And brave Hylas in the flower of youth went with him aboard the Argo, the strong-thwarted ship, to bear his arrows and to guard his bow."

c.450 BC – Alcibiades (d.circa 404 BC), reared in the household of his guardian and uncle Pericles, he became the eromenos (youthful lover) and later intimate friend of Socrates, who saved his life in battle. According to Plutarch, Alcibiades "feared and reverenced Socrates alone, and despised the rest of his lovers".

His brilliance enabled him in 420 to become leader of the extreme democratic faction, and his imperialistic designs led Athens into an alliance with Argos and other foes of Sparta, a policy largely discredited by the Spartan victory at Mantinea.

He sponsored the plan for a Sicilian expedition to outflank Sparta. which ended after his recall, in the capture of thousands of Athenians, most of whom died in the salt mines where they were confined, Soon after the fleet reached Sicily, his enemies had recalled him on the pretext of his complicity in the mutilation of the Hermae, the phallic pillars marking boundaries between lots of land. The expedition, after his recall, resulted in the capture of thousands of Athenians, most of whom died in the salt mines where they were confined,

He escaped his accusers, however, to Sparta and became the advisor of the Spartan high command. Losing the confidence of the Spartans and accused of impregnating the wife of one of Sparta's two kings, he fled to Persia, then tried to win reinstatement at Athens by winning Persian support for the city and promoting an oligarchic revolution, but without success.

Then being appointed commander by the Athenian fleet at Samos, he displayed his military skills for several years and won a brilliant victory at Cyzicus in 410, but reverses in battle and political intrigue at home led to bis downfall, and he was finally murdered in Phrygia in 404.

Though an outstanding politician and military leader, Alcibiades compromised himself by the excesses of his sexual life, which was not confined to his own sex, but was uninhibitedly bisexual, as was typical of a member of the Athenian aristocracy. The Attic comedians scolded him for his adventures; Aristophanes wrote a play (now lost) entitled Triphales (the man with three penises), in which Alcibiades' erotic exploits were satirized.

In his youth, admired by the whole of Athens for his beauty, he bore on his coat of arms an Eros hurling a lightning bolt. Diogenes Laertius said of him that "when a young man, he separated men from their wives, and later, wives from their husbands," a comment on his bisexuality.

He gained a bad reputation for introducing luxurious practices into Athenian life, and even his dress was reproached for extravagance. He combined the ambitious political careerist and the bisexual dandy, a synthesis possible only in a society that tolerated homosexual expression and even a certain amount of heterosexual licence in its public figures. His physical beauty in itself impressed his contemporaries enough to remain an inseparable part of his historical image.

1981 – Dragoș Bucurenci is a Romanian communication strategist and coach, civic activist and television personality. In 2010, his Process Communication Model course was awarded Best Training of the Year Prize at the Romanian Business Edu Gala. In 2014 he joined the cabinet of the European Commissioner for Regional Policy as Communication Adviser, but left a year later citing "different work styles".

He founded MaiMultVerde, a well-known environmental organization in Romania. He was featured on the cover of Esquire Romania October 2008 edition, among "15 people who innovate, challenge and change the world we live in".

In 2016, he hosted the Romanian edition of the Survivor television series on ProTV.

Bucurenci was one of the first public figures in Romania who spoke openly about their sexuality. In a May 2008 piece for Elle magazine, he came out as bisexual.

 

1994 – UK: A panel of magistrates in London dismissed a paternity suit against singer Boy George for lack of evidence. By George is an English singer, songwriter, DJ, fashion designer and photographer. He is the lead singer of the Grammy and Brit Award-winning pop band Culture Club. At the height of the band's fame, during the 1980s, they recorded global hit songs such as "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me", "Time (Clock of the Heart)" and "Karma Chameleon".

George is known for his soulful voice and androgynous appearance. He was part of the English New Romantic movement which emerged in the late 1970s to the early 1980s. In his autobiography Take It Like a Man, George stated that he had secret relationships with punk rock singer Kirk Brandon and Club drummer Jon Moss. He stated many of the songs he wrote for Culture Club were about his relationship with Moss.

2005 – Off-Broadway musical Naked Boys Singing! re-opens in Milwaukee after being closed by police on obscenity charges two weeks earlier. Naked Boys Singing! is a traditional American vaudeville-style musical revue, with book and direction by Robert Schrock, musical direction by Stephen Bates and choreography by Jeffry Denman, that features eight actors who sing and dance naked.

This campy Off-Broadway musical comedy opened on July 22, 1999 at the Actors' Playhouse in New York City. The show transferred to Theatre Four in March 2004, and again in 2005 to New World Stages Stage Four, until it closed on January 28, 2012. The show has no plot; it contains 15 songs, about various issues, such as gay life, male nudity, coming out, circumcision, and love. The official Off Broadway Revival opened at Theatre Row's Kirk Theatre on April 5, 2012 and is still enjoying a healthy run today.

2013 – A gay combat medic who challenged the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy while serving in Iraq, dies in a car crash in New York. Darren Manzella, 36, a former Army sergeant, went on national television in 2007 to reveal his sexual orientation, becoming the face of gay servicemen and women before being discharged in 2008 for publicly discussing his sexual identity.

He was a United States Army Sergeant, Army medic and gay activist from Portland, New York, who was discharged under the Don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Manzella had served in Iraq and Kuwait, and was stationed in Fort Hood, Texas. The policy was repealed in 2011.

Manzella married Javier Lapeira in Rochester on July 5, 2013. On August 29, 2013, Manzella was killed when an SUV hit him as he was in the act of pushing his disabled vehicle off the road in Pittsford, Monroe County, New York. A friend said Manzella had recently signed on as a reservist.

[zombee]

THE PRINCE AND THE PIRATE AUTHOR'S NOTES

like blood under the skin, if you plan on rereading and want to figure out these lil easter eggs yourself, maybe skip these for now. otherwise, please enjoy!

·        I originally called this “Blood Under the Skin 2.0.” BUtS was one of my first fics, and while I’ve published 100 now, with many WIPs in the vaults, it was my most beloved for a long time. Might still be if I’m honest. Anyway, this was hitting very similar beats, and still does obviously, but specifically wrt Stede’s character. He was way more timid in the first few chapters, way more of a genuine coward. But then I figured out he was a dom and that was the Leslie Knope switch from season 1 to 2 – he’s a brat/bitch from the beginning, not just internally but externally. That set him apart from BUtS Stede and really cracked the whole fic. I had to do extensive rewrites of his character in the first few chapters – another reason I’m a finish before I post it truther!!!

·        I had Stede’s ship name in [brackets] for SO LONG, but then I figured out the Hydra twist (I had already had the Hercules play in place), and I went ohohoho! And went back in and put in a LOT of Hercules references. Stede’s title was originally “…grand duke of Montrose” not Nirea (named after a character in The Adventure Zone podcast), but Nirea is a reference to Nireus, one of Hercules’s male lovers. So is Iolus, Stede’s fake name at the costume contest. I don’t remember all the other references because I don’t know the myth that well, but like “Herah” being the capital city of Low is an obvious one. And River (the pirate captain who Ed has to kill) is a reference to Achelous, and so on. And generally, of course, Hercules is the half-blood son of a king. Oh and Tebai (honeymoon port) is Thebes.

·        SPEAKING OF WHICH, i came up with the name “The Prince and the Pirate” before I cracked Ed’s backstory. I also considered that a working title – it sounded like a romance novel. But I didn’t want Ed and Ned to be exes, and then I was like… oh FUCK. because Ed and Stede are BOTH the prince and BOTH the pirate.

·        The original antagonist was Prince Ricky, because we didn’t have s2e7 when I started writing. But the beats were the same – he was a monster that Stede didn’t want to marry even in the face of thinking Blackbeard would also be monstrous. But then I saw that episode and was like OH FUCK. HE IS P E R F E C T. “King Ned” sounds stupid, so that’s why he’s referred to as “the King of Low” a lot lmao

·        When I realized Ned’s real name was Edward I was so pissed. I considered changing it, since who cares, but then I figured Ned/Ed’s dad just George Forman’d them and that was EXTREMELY funny to me. And it led to the “My Edward” bit so!!! Positive, I reckon. I had plans for other bastards all named nicknames of Ed but didn’t end up working it in.

·        I did not really plan to bring Atella back (I’m very much a pantser not a plotter) but I had to c’mon

·        Stede’s whole Thing with his title being the most valuable thing about him is the crux on which him not admitting he loves Ed is based on. Nigel was the biggest part of it, but if you notice I also mention “his [number] to last ever friend” a few times – they all pretended to be friends with him and got fed up and left him. Ed is who he considers his “last ever friend,” btw.

·        Also… it’s just fun. It’s fanfic. I despaired like, is it TOO fucking stupid they’re not just saying it! And then I was like. No. It’s fun. Just have fun.

·        Ed’s reason is that he knew about Stede’s trauma and was afraid if he said it Stede would run. Which he did lol. There’s a lot of their development I don’t show on the page and that’s because Stede doesn’t even realize it’s developing. He kind of does, but not to the extent it’s happening. I put in little (or not so little) hints throughout. One of my favorites is you find out when Ed is playing the fiddle there were nights when they danced together Stede you sweet oblivious idiot.

·        Stede has cherries embroidered onto his suit in that first scene because he’s a virgin

·        The reputation of his virginity will be forfeit, regardless that he’s certain from his studies that Blackbeard does not run a ship where rape is permissible, or indeed that that kind of assault is common on the Sister Seas at all – it’s not common because Ed more or less put a stop to it

·        The hickeys are ENTIRELY adhdduck’s doing, everyone say thank you duck. They also commented in the doc “I’LL GIVE THESE PIRATES A THOUSAND HICKEYS BEFORE I DIE!” and I think about that a lot.

·        “My people would suffer all the same. Rumors, by their nature, do not care for fact.” Stede places his hands on the edge of the desk and leans forward. “And that is why it matters if I appear willing. To make Ned look like a fool.”

He knows at once from the way Blackbeard’s face goes sharp and shrewd that these are the words he needed. If he is going to succeed at this gambit, this will be how.” - so, the original words in here were “sharp and hungry,” because the motivation in my head was literally just Ed wanting to fuck with Ned. Buuuut, then I cracked the plot of Calypso, and I thought Ed knowing Stede could be a part of the plan was a better excuse for him not to admit he loves him.

·        "That's your only stipulation to this arrangement?" – Ed says this in chapter 1 and then Stede says this in the 17th chapter, right before he kills Ned >:^}

·        SO I originally had Ed giving Stede a ring in the engagement scene. But I just forgot to include it throughout the next chapters, and then I was annoyed at the thought of rewrites, so I changed it to the thumb-kiss thing. WHICH IS NOW ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS! Stede, btw, only does it once—in the last line of the fic.

·        “Oh dear. There goes Stede’s cock again.” Def a lowkey Rick and Morty reference lol

·        “but his leg pops up of its own accord anyway.” Thank you everyone who called out the Princess Diaries reference

·        There is a small motif of “interesting” (when Stede clocks something about Ed that adjusts his perspective on him) and “for now” which is just Stede being a brat

·        “There are no maimings, but otherwise the wedding is a complete success.” – there are “several maimings” at their wedding in the last chapter!

·        Ugh the stupid wedding suit. It was important enough to the plot I knew I had to describe it, and I had to find a color that wouldn’t look good on Ed or Ned. I used actual internet websites to find one. Do I think Ed would actually look bad, no, but yknow. Supposedly gold is not a great color for him.

·        “Then perhaps she can…stay?” Stede asks, trying not to sound like he’s begging. Based on the pattern of his life so far, he knows the answer. But still, he wants to try. “Can she stay on the ship with me?” – again this is me explaining that Stede has serious trauma about things in his life staying that are Good. Canonically we know once Stede figures it out he is fully confident Ed loves him back, so I had to figure out a reason that Stede wouldn’t in this universe.

·        As SOON as Stede finds out Ed’s real name, he starts thinking of him as Ed in his head.

·        “No matter. Whatever it is that Ed wants, that is what Stede shall do.” – in their first sex scene, there is emphasis on “What Ed wants right now is to do what Stede wants.” Lil baby boy cracked it :’)

·        Gosh I love the stupid “Prince’s Wedding Night” throughline lol. And thanks for calling me out on twitter that “laddybuck” is definitely a Tamora Pierce reference.

·        Stede sighs and crouches next to Ed. "Shall I help you undress?"

Ed sneers. "What, are you willing to?" – a reference to the first hickey scene where Stede says he’d “be willing” in whatever way Ed wanted aka sex. And that fucks Ed up for a LONG time because he thinks Stede would only fuck him because of their arrangement~

·        We all knew Ed did actually see Stede jacking it on their wedding night, right?

·        “Stede frowns and looks down at himself. It is true he is wearing Ed's clothes, and there is no mirror in Ed's cabin, so he must look disheveled.” (ch 2), “He has to imagine Ed took the lovely gilded mirror from his old cabin and brought it aboard the Queen Anne’s Revenge. Perhaps if he behaves Ed will let him keep it.” (ch 4), “He buttons up his waist coat, admiring himself in the gilded mirror that has taken the place of the awful battle painting.” (ch 5)

·        In BUtS, I skirt around the idea of assault/rape – like, obviously it’s there, but I don’t say it out loud. I kind of consider tpatp adult while buts is young adult in that way (I mean, except for the porn). Buts was my love letter to the YA fantasy I read as a kid in general.

·        “"Raped to death?" Ed says, incredulous and offended. "What kind of a monster do you think I am, your highness?"

"Not that kind, to be sure." – dummies why don’t you LISTEN TO WHAT THE OTHER IS ACTUALLY SAYING

·        “He had not known kissing could be so soft.” (ch 2) and then I bring it back in ch 8 with “He had not known fucking could be so soft.”

·        “"What kind of books do you like?"

"Oh, all kinds! My favorites are stories of adventure and magic."

"Like what?"

"Sethera and Fairyfoot and Estril’s Mermaid Tales." – S&F is a reference to another medieval AU I wrote, I Hate It When You Stare. (shhh it’s a reference on purpose not because I didn’t want to come up with something else)

·        I almooooost tagged this enemies to lovers. I decided against it in the end for the same reason I don’t tag things a lot of the time – if you come looking for that content specifically, you might be disappointed. But know in my heart it counts.

·        ““Oh, yeah, we’re taking everything but the food and water. They should be bringing in your stuff now, actually.” Ed’s eyes go stern. “I’ll be looking through it all before I let you keep it. Make sure there’s nothing you can use to escape.”

“Ah. All of my things…?"

“Yep.”

Stede winces, thinking of his intimate toys. Oh well. The worst case scenario is that Ed will mock him. Best case, they can enjoy them together. – SCHROEDINGER’S BUTT PLUG

·        “I accepted your conditions because I want to make fucking Ned fucking mad,” he snaps. “I’m not going to fuck you, okay? You can stop these stupid fucking games. You’re safe.” - Ed thinks Stede is doing stuff like jacking off where he can see because he is trying to “honor” his side of this deal and coax Ed into fucking him. He thinks he’s real obvious about how in love with Stede he is as well, that’s a part of it.

·        “This is just a fuckery.” Ed’s voice is ice cold. “You’re going to earn your keep on my ship by participating in it, but I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t want you. Got it?”

Stede finds that he is crying. (ch 3)

“Good,” Ned murmurs. “You’re learning.” He leans in and leers into Stede’s ear. “This is just a contract. We both know what our duty is. I don’t want to have to hurt you. Got it?”

Stede finds that he is crying. (ch15) - do you get it because they’re brothers and ultimately similar and in both instances they’re lying wait wait don’t leave—

·        “Is he really so undesirable? Anyone seems plain next to Ed, but Stede thinks he has rather nice broad shoulders and a fetching pair of legs. With the right clothing and a good pair of shoes, His Royal Highness Grand Duke of Nirea Prince Stede of Bonnet is adequate.” – he also feels a little ugly in their first sex scene, but being wanted by Ed makes him blossom and by the end he’s like “yeah bitch I’m hot af”

·        In ch2 Stede wonders if he’ll ever be hugged again. In ch3 Ed hugs him.

·        “Slow,” Ed murmurs. “Slow.” -  bring this back twice! Rule of 3s, baby. Once in Tebai (honeymoon port), when Stede is teasing Ed, once in the final chapter when Ed is doing the same.

·        I have been a “Stede hates mornings” truther forever and while I don’t need canon to validate my silly AUs, I do like to be when it happens

·        “There we are,” Stede says. Indeed, Ed looks magnificent, and Stede is too tired to be self-conscious when he says, “you look fantastic like this.”

Ed’s eyes go dark. He licks his lips. “Yeah?” – hallelujah, a praise kink is born

·        “Yes.” He remembers Ed’s words from the night previous. “Like everyone knows you’re mine.”

Ed jerks backward, spins on his heel, prowls away from Stede. "It's fucking time, your highness. Get out of fucking bed." – Ned used to call Ed his. I don’t have full details, but I don’t think I’ll ever do an Ed pov for this? So something like, “you’re mine” and “my monster,” probably.

·        I have been saying “drat” and “vexed” in my real life a lot since writing this

·        “He kisses Ed warmly on the lips. Ed goes rigid, and fuck him for it, but it’s not like he can chastise Stede in front of those they are attempting to deceive.” – of course, Ed is not going rigid (snrk) because he’s mad, but because he’s shocked Stede would initiate a kiss.

·        God bless season 2 of the hit television series our flag means death for healing my relationship with canon izzy because he is SO FUN to write (ftr I liked izzy for about a month before the shitty parts of the izzy fandom ruined him for me)

·        “He thinks bitterly Ed must have chosen this on purpose, for dramatic effect.” – nope he was waiting until the last minute possible to let you sleep, you big goof

·        “might be his last kiss” because he’s traumatized baby boyyy. BUT I make it up to him with the “best kiss yet” bit in the honeymoon chapters.

·        Stede becomes a skilled seamstress throughout the fic. I put that in before we got the bts that he sewed up the couch in the captains’ cabin!

·        Ed does try to play nice in these chapters but because of the miscommunication Stede is a bitch back and Ed is like “GOD DAMMIT”

·        I had the proto-Calypso bits in before I cracked the plot. Thanks season 2!!!

·        I like the “Ed doesn’t laugh he giggles” bit a lot because he’s a SILLY BOY

·        Part of the reason Ed doesn’t allow Stede to go ashore (besides that he’s worried for his safety) is that he’s afraid Stede will run

·        “Scratch the back of my neck,” Stede says, knowing it will look pink and puffed to any key witnesses. Ed obliges. “Harder.”

Ed rakes his fingernails down Stede’s skin and digs them into the knot above his spine.

“Yes. Good.”

Ed lets out a soft whine as they squirm together for a moment – this isn’t the first hint Stede is dommy but it is the first time he like, combines it with Ed’s praise kink. Hence the “soft whine.”

·        I drop the tobacco + leather motif (mostly because of laziness) but also because Ed is dropping his blackbeard mask around Stede more and more as the fic goes on

·        “Ed sits at the desk and pores over his maps as Stede chatters at him between wolfing down bread and fish about the book he is reading.

“And then he tilts at a windmill, Ed!” – don quixote reference. Not really alluding to anything it’s just an old story.

·        “That’s because Bonnet only uses geldings. I bet you’d do well with a stallion.” – besides being funny (nice and subtle, Edward), this is a hint that Ed knows more about the machinations of court than you would maybe expect. Like, why would a commoner from Low know that about Bonnet? Why would he even be tilting in the first place?

·        “Stede takes the dagger carefully and inspects it. It is fine work, castle steel, undecorated except for a snake etched into the hilt.” – I wanted to do more with this but the muse didn’t take me. However I kept it in because “castle steel” is another hint Ed is more than he seems.

·        “And may we keep the chair, my darling? I have some… ideas for it.” – shroedinger’s sex chair

·        God I fucking love the party scene lol. No real notes I just love it. THEY’RE! IN! LOVE!!!

·        “the raids do get a bit boring, after a while… there seems to be quite a lot of them these days.” HMMM I WONDER WHY ED WOULD DO THIS NOT FOR KISSES SURELY!!!

·        Shit like, “He has even given Stede a small cabin to use as a library.” And then later when Stede has a necklace Ed gave him, again my little hints that like fuckity duh stede he’s in love with you

·        i. love. Their. First. Sex. Scene. I love it SO much. Definitely a bit of Ed pov is “Lord mother. He had married a sex god, and they weren’t ever going to fuck again (probably?)”

·        was working through a lot of episode 6-7 feelings with this one lol

·        Ed gasps and tries to pull away again. Before he can get far, Stede grips him harder on the back of his neck and says, “stay.” – STEDE WANTS SOMETHING TO STAY!!! HE SAID IT OUT LOUD!!!!!!

·        “A quiet, traitorous part of his mind says: he is frightened and you want him much more than you are equipped to give him comfort otherwise.” – idk why I do this so often but this is a flip of (part of) what I imagine Ed was thinking in e6

·        No matter that this might not be the right choice indefinitely, in this moment, this is what they both desire. – again… working through a lot of e7 feelings lmao

·        They both call each other Ed/Stede throughout this whole scene instead of “your highness/Blackbeard” (except at the very end when they both think it’s never going to happen again). Ed calls Stede Stede sometimes, always deliberately on my part, and Stede kind of does the same, but not when he thinks Ed can hear.

·        Idkkkkk it’s just been so fun to play with the power dynamics here. Like, stede wants Ed to be rough and kind of out of control, but he also loves being the one controlling that narrative, and just. The layers are fun for me. No way I could have written something so complex two years ago.

·        Stede is suddenly very aware of the aches in his body. “Ow."

Ed tenses. “Shit, I—”

“No no,” Stede laughs. “It is a good kind of ow.”

Stede pulls back to smile at his husband, who is looking magnificently fucked.

…But also quite cagey. – I swear to fucking god if Stede had said anything but “ow” they might have worked it out right then.

·        He’s “stealing” kisses in this one, afraid he’ll lose everything now… stede my beloved.

·        “There is so much warmth and wonderfulness that happened tonight, including and perhaps especially this very moment. Stede will do his best to remember that, in the days to come.” Maybe working out some general season 2 feelings WHO KNOWS!!!! Not for myself but for those who were so disappointed with izzy’s death they couldn’t keep enjoying the show. I’ve been there. It sucks. But when I look back, there was a lot more good than bad and I’m grateful. – same as “No matter what comes after, the during was wonderful.”

·        It’s been hard to take (direct) apologies out of Ed’s character since s2 but I have done it. He does apologize in this story – when he apologizes for not telling Stede sooner that he loves him 😊

·        "If you make me say it again, I shall lie to make you feel bad." – then I flip this in the honeymoon chapters when Ed says a similar thing.

·        “Can you really blame me for thinking you’d want to escape?”

“I can, actually.” – I bring back “I can, actually” twice more as well! I loooove to do that, where partners start to parrot each other’s speech patterns.

·        The Queen Anne’s Revenge is my kingdom and you are my king.” – because he’s royalty too do you get it wait doN’T LEAVE—

·        THE NIGHTGOWN STINKING IS SO FUNNY TO ME LMFAO. Stede dear god. It’s been months.

·        I tried not to actually name any direct Greek mythology references (like, I never say Hercule’s/Heracles’s name--) but I realized I did use “Adonis” in one scene just let me have this

·        I love the bit of them inventing new stories every time someone asks them how they got together SO MUCH. They’re both so dramatic and love to play off each other eeee

·        I have Ed use “my love” because that is how Ned speaks. That’s a canon reference. God I watched ned’s scenes so many times for this fic lmao. He has a more stilted way of talking than canon to parallel  Stede’s voice as that’s kind of my nudge nudge at how royalty are brought up. Ed rarely slips into it but he does sometimes.

·        Ed pushes him against the wall as soon as they are somewhere enough in the shadows and kisses him again. “Tell me what you wa—”

“This, Ed. Just this.”

Ed looks very intensely at him. “Just this?”

“Exactly this.” – gahhh another bit of misunderstanding. Ed morosely thinks “okay, Stede just wants to fuck. that’s fine, I’ll take that.” I call it back in ch 11 when Ed and Stede are fighting after Stede got hurt.

·        How many times can you spot Ed almost saying “I love you” because there is a lot >:^}

·        A lot of Stede’s “nothing stays” stuff is shit I learned from meditating. And it is SUPER useful, it is! But sometimes it’s okay to want things and Stede learns this lesson throughout the fic.

·        The boys are in their 20s for this fic that’s why they can come so much and so fast lol

·        Since the very first fic I wrote in this fandom, Stede being okay with and/or turned on by Ed’s violent parts of himself is really, really important to me. So happy I got to include some of it here!

·        “It wasn’t the almost dying,” Ed says. “It was the almost dying without having had…” Ed darts his eyes away and then makes a LOT of eye contact. “You.” – kind of a canon bathtub/dock scene reference.

·        “You are not a monster for wanting to fuck your willing husband.” – again this type of shit is important to me – I don’t want to spell out that Stede has figured this shit out about Ed. Show don’t tell, yknow?

·        Fun facts people (as in, Europeans, since we’re the gross ones) were more clean than you’d think in the middle ages. Public baths were def a thing.

·        “Don’t do that. At least not until we’re old and gray.” – STEDE PLEASE LISTEN TO HIM HE’S ALREADY PLANNING YOUR FUTURE DECADES FROM NOW

·        Even though Ed has been eating Stede out for an hour, Stede sends him down to get water and doesn’t actually give him the promised facial massage. Because he is a bitch. He would have if he was in his right mind, but, yknow. Rimmies!!!

·        “sublimation” “sodium” “aliens” lots of others – I love the David Jenkins School of Historical Accuracy (FUN FACT DID YOU KNOW I INVENTED THAT PHRASE!!! I am pretty sure. I have receipts from April 2022. I at least popularized it.)

·        Ed says “there’s my favorite prince” and in the next chapter Stede says “there’s my favorite pirate.” I told you in the tags the references are heavy-handed lol

·        “Flay the skin off your fingers until you beg him to cut them off—” I am a game of thrones hater unrepentedly and forever but I did used to fuck with the books hard and this is of course a Ramsay Bolton reference.

·        “We’ll be here another week yet. We are going home.”

Ed’s hand squeezes in his in such a way Stede is uncertain if he meant to do it.

“Home?” Ed echoes.

“Yes. Home. Come along, husband.” – ed’s never felt like he has a real home before IF YOU EVEN CARE

·        Thiiiis is the chapter some of yall figured out Ed was Ned’s brother and I’m DELIGHTED because these were the most obvious hints!!!

·        “Oh! Lord above” might be the funniest thing in all of season 2 and THIS IS WHERE THE ENTIRE RELIGION IN THIS FIC COMES FROM lollll. Again I had a lot of brackets like [equivalent to jesus fucking christ]” and this solved it. Thank u Frenchie.

·        Stede goes numb and hears as if from underwater himself say the words back. Ed puts him down and kisses him again. This one is, regrettably, all Ed and no Blackbeard, and Stede is struggling a bit not to cry. Ed says quietly into the ear not facing the audience, “It's funny because we're already married.” – again this is leading to Ed’s belief that he should not say it to Stede because he’ll spook him. He was about to before Frenchieus Interruptus but now this is another step back.

·        No real notes on the kidnapping scene I just think it’s funny

·        Wait I lied - “No face!” Tacky barks, stopping Stinky short from kicking Stede’s teeth in.

“We’ll just say it was Blackbeard did it.”

“He’ll blab! Look at him! He’s a sniveling little tattletale, aren’t you, your highness?” – because Ned’s general orders to people about how to capture Stede. The implication here being like “you can rough him up, just not so that the public will know you did”

·        Ed playing the violin is for one, a canon reference to his piano-playing (I like to put that in fics when I can) and also Ned’s real backstory of his brother being a savant and him being insanely jealous

·        You just have to let me be Blackbeard.”

·        “It’s not complicated! What are you afraid of, Dread Pirate Blackbeard? That I will stop loving you if you go too far?”

“You are Blackbeard,” Stede says, beleaguered. “You could stop hating yourself and start fucking me instead, you know.” – ed baby boy accept all parts of yourself it’s okay we still love you <3

With all the venom he possesses, Ed spits, “fuck you.” – LISTEN! TO! THE! WORDS! YOUR! HUSBAND! IS! SAYING!!!! Ed thinks stede is mocking him here but yknow

·        I am also subtly trying to tell you that Stede is beginning to believe more and more that Ed really does love him and I think ch12 is the most heavy-handed before I just say it outright.

·        For all of you who called me out on my Steven Universe in this chapter, bless u

·        “A prince among sex fairies."

“I don’t love that,” Stede grumbles. “Can I be a fairy queen?”

“Prince, princess, king, and queen,” Ed says easily. He yawns. “You’re everything to me.” – gender non conforming Stede my beloved. Also a recurring bit that stede is like “can we PLEASE forget about the prince thing, jesus”

·        “Oh, do you mean like that one time you asked me to call you—” Kitty Cat. He asked him to call him Kitty Cat.

·        If you thought River was supposed to be referencing a glam rocker aesthetic you would be 100% correct!

·        Now, Stede thinks, heart swollen. Now is the time to tell him. Just say the words. You will still have until Calypso at least. Be brave.

“Thank you.” Drat. Try again. “I…”

“Hm?”

“Forgot what I was going to say.” – callback to Ed saying the same thing where he was also going to say I love you

·        Ed proposing and Stede saying “Quite brilliant. I accept.” Is a rule of 3s – the last time of course it’s reversed!

·        “Sirede contingent” is a reference to adhdduck’s AMAZING SIREN!STEDE FIC PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ IT!!!

·        “What utter hogwash. The sea is both, and Stede loves every part of it.” Very unsubtle reference to Ed lol

·        The pirates at Eryma that are Stede’s heroes are all my early readers thanks guys <3

·        I’m in a group chat where we discussed the absolute chaos of a Frenchie/Archie team up, hence them being on Stede’s wedding planning team

·        Since as you know now it ends as brat4brat, see if you can spot the places Ed is playing that role. The public alley bj is a big one, but it’s been throughout.

·        I think if you squint a young Bronson Pinchot looks like Ed. If you squint.

·        Because word all over Eryma is that he’s led around by his little cock by you – because Stede encouraged this kind of chatter, whoopsy! (also it’s… correct lol)

·        “His eyes are—wrong, they make Stede feel uneasy—but he supposes with all the horrors Ned gets up to, that makes sense. – because they look like Ed’s

·        “I only punish someone I love if they misbehave.”

Stede says, anguished and unable to stop himself, “Ed—”

Ned laughs. “No, Ed stopped caring after too long. Which was a nuisance, by the way. Until I found something different to try.” - Ed’s praise kink does come from his past, but I put this in to let yall know he was still like, fuck THAT to Ned even as a young kid. He wasn’t just accepting his fate until his mom saw him torture someone.

·        Ned’s mouth and fingernails being black and his breath being bad is a hint that he’s poison-trained. Kind of inspired by president snow in the hunger games.

·        I am still, as of writing this, the only person in the Vincent tag for OFMD. Justice for Vincent.

·        Stede explaining wabi sabi to Maggie and Vincent my beloved

·        Stede at first is confident Ed is coming for him, but then his confidence flags throughout the next two chapters.

·        When it doesn’t have to racism and sexism etc don’t exist in my universes. I’m still informed by the real world, of course, but rest assured none of the Ed/Ned childhood stuff has to do with that. The “people confusing Ed for being the real prince” stuff that was a part of my calculations.

·        People got verrrry close to knowing the hydra/suit twist but no one quite got it right (who commented, anyway)

·        If the Ned/Stede wedding stuff feels like Tamora Pierce at all it’s because I’ve read her books dozens of times over the last 20+ years

·        I had to change “he tastes like black licorice” to “rotting black licorice” because some of my early readers were like “but black licorice is good tho” (they’re wrong but I didn’t want to distract from the point)

·        Also you should be getting Princess Bride vibes from their wedding 😊

·        Ned is sitting on the throne. Gray, and bedraggled, but unmistakably alive. His elbow is on one armrest with the side of his forehead propped on his fist. His legs are crossed and one foot bounces. His eyes are bloodshot around their black pupils, slicing into Stede like castle steel.

The kingsguard marches Stede forward and dumps him onto his knees at Ned’s feet. Ned hooks the toe of his boot under Stede’s chin and pulls it up until they are looking at each other. – this is a shera and the princesses of power reference and unfortunately I think it’s a little bit kind of sexy

·        One of them has on chipped black nail polish and Stede feels dizzy with anguish. – that is, in fact, Ed!!!

·        “I love you,” Stede says urgently. “I love you, I love you–”

“I know,” Ed says gently, voice thick. “I know that. We have to go.” – he did, btw. He figured it out the night of the bondage scene :’)

·        Atella my beloved. No notes I just love her.

·        Stone parchment dagger = rock paper scissors. Izzy and Lucius were both wanting to slap Stede to wake him up but Zheng wins without them even knowing she’s playing.

·        God once again so happy to enjoy izzy again I had so much fun with him this chapter

·        DENTAL PLAN! MAGGIE NEEDS BRACES! DENTAL PLAN!

·        Stede kicks the guard in the ribs because he knows how much that fuckin hurts

·        Who did Olu propose to? Maybe Zheng. Maybe Jim. Maybe all three 😊 you decide.

·        Oh I forgot to mention but Stede being so anal about water is trauma from when he was a captive to Nigel

·        I loooove a good bookend cathartic sex scene. BUtS has one, as does Mink Ed POV, and also ski boys. Brat4brat 4ever

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! No particular plans for my next longfic.

(that is a lie. It’ll be another medieval au. It just might not be a longfic)

[baejax-the-great]

WIP Wednesday

Sports divorce is on my mind. Shout out to my favorite character in the Iliad, Nireus.

~

He is thirty-five years old, the most attractive man he has ever seen is lying naked on his bed, and he is crying in the bathroom.

That’s a lie. Nireus is the second most attractive man Patroclus has ever seen, and that is about all he can say for him. Their conversation wasn’t particularly interesting. There wasn’t any chemistry to speak of. But he was beautiful, and he wanted Patroclus, and Patroclus wanted to sleep with someone, anyone.

He knew the first time with an almost-stranger wouldn’t be that great. Nireus seemed happy to let Patroclus do all of the heavy lifting. To discover what Patroclus likes, he’d have to have a modicum of curiosity in his beautiful, empty head.

But Patroclus isn’t crying over mediocre sex.

He has purged Achilles from his life. There are no reminders of him in his home, nothing to indicate that there used to be another who shared his space, his bed, the breath in his lungs. Enough time has passed that even the accidental residue a person unwittingly leaves in their wake has all been wiped clean. Patroclus no longer finds long, golden hairs mixed in among the laundry or tangled up in the vacuum. He has dusted and scrubbed everything he owns enough times that not even an old fingerprint of his remains on anything. Any objects that had maybe once been theirs together is now just Patroclus’s. Just his.

Including his body. Including who he spends his nights with. It’s the last thing, sleeping with someone else. No longer having Achilles be the last person who touched him. Who fucked him. It only takes three weeks for the skin cells of an adult to turn over, so Achilles has never touched this body anyway. By Patroclus’s count, the largest organ of his body has turned over seventy times without being touched at all, and that ended today.

He has gone on plenty of first dates getting comfortable with the idea but not quite bringing himself to bring anyone home. He finally, finally felt ready to pull the trigger, and now he is crying in his bathroom because it was fine. Because it didn’t mean anything and it didn’t hurt and it didn’t matter at all. Because he thought it would feel momentous, but it just felt like sex. He could go out there and do it again with anyone, and it wouldn’t matter at all.

[marisverse]

Nireus Fowl,

It was just a simple question to get to know you better. Do you really think I could narrow down your identity by such a mundane information? I'm not that smart.

I see no need to give you any clues

[axilarycobra]

[Wings of Fire] The Forgotten Pantalan Tribes

Hello, back with some original WoF universe work. I haven't gotten too much into this because recently, I've been focusing on a lot of historical headcanons (history of the tribes, holidays, queens, stuff I'll probably post later).

A quick summary, in my little WoF universe, Pantala used to be home to the GrassWings and the BugWings. The GrassWings eventually evolved into the LeafWings after they were forced to leave Pantala and settled in the Rainforest Kingdom on Pantala. The BugWings split into the SilkWings, HiveWings, and NymphWings while still on Pantala, and the SilkWings and HiveWings fled from Pantala with the GrassWings. The NymphWings never left Pantala. On Pyrrhia, the HiveWings and SilkWings merged back into one tribe due to their proximity to one another in the Rainforest Kingdom, creating the BeetleWings.

The BeetleWings and LeafWings, along with some RainWings and SeaWings (although this will never have an impact on anything as they aren't involved in any new tribes being created) left Pyrrhia for Pantala after the outbreak of the boil virus (which I mentioned in my previous post).

This is a quick overview of just a general timeline of the history of the Pantalan tribes so I can get into the forgotten tribes. These are all fantribes that exist in my personal little WoF AU world, I'm not necessarily into fantribes that much as a community thing, especially since these aren't the most original. Most of these tribes are based on the environment around them.

BeetleWings

Description: sleek, agile bodies similar to that of a modern-day SilkWing; scales that could be any color under the sun but were usually bright and colorful; small, sharp claws for gripping bark; antennae; translucent, shimmering wings like those of a HiveWing; stinger on the tip of their tail

Abilities: can spin silk from glands on their wrist; sense vibrations with their antennae; can sting enemies with a paralyzing toxin from the stinger of their tail; can shoot a deadly acid from their fangs

Queen: Queen Swallowtail

~

Contrary to popular belief, the BeetleWings didn't go completely extinct. When Clearsight came over to Pantala, she reintroduced a gene that came from the ancient HiveWing tribe, jumpstarting the separation of the BeetleWings back into the SilkWings and HiveWings after they were reintroduced to their previous home.

Back during that time, the BeetleWings covered all of the continent, so the influence of Clearsight's genetics didn't spread very fast. When Clearsight was on her deathbed, she left a final prophecy to one of her granddragonets. The prophecy was a warning to the queen of the BeetleWings that a terrible genocide was going to happen. With the warning, the BeetleWings put in a plan they called the Removal Plan. They moved out of their cities and hid in a secret home on the smaller wing of Pantala.

The tribe remained there for thousands of years, their existence completely known to the SilkWings, HiveWings, and LeafWings.

ShimmerWings

Description: sparkly, colorful scales that can be any color under the sun but usually are darker; small sparkles all over the body; four brightly colored moth-like wings with scattered silver star patterns on the undersides and brightly colored star patterns on the overside; antennae; small claws

Abilities: can spin sparkly, colorful silk from glands on their wrists; sense vibrations with their antennae; can breathe a burst of sparkly fire called sparkbreath; night vision

Queen: Queen Nireus

~

The ShimmerWings were the early descendants of Clearsight. They were a lot like the BeetleWings, but with some traits that were from the NightWing tribe. This was a small tribe that didn't exist for very long as it eventually became outnumbered by other breakoff tribes from Clearsight, most notably the HiveWings who would eventually become a dominant tribe on the continent. Similarly to the BeetleWings, the ShimmerWings aren't completely extinct. Along with the BeetleWings, they found refuge on the small wing of Pantala, their existence unknown to the dominant Pantalan tribes.

PeakWings

Description: bulky, thick-armored scales the color of mountain rocks; curved, sharp claws with padded talons to grip rock; four horns, two that curve upward and two that curve downward; long, thick, prehensile tail twice the size of the rest of their body with a stinger on the end; large, segmented wings; long, thick antennae

Abilities: extremely powerful grip and strength; excellent night vision; deadly venom in tail stinger and claws; fast and agile on the ground and in tunnels; almost unbreakable scales; can sense vibrations with antennae and cling to walls, can spin a thick silk

Queen: Queen Denali

~

The PeakWings were created when some BeetleWings moved to live in the mountains of the upper Pantalan wing. The BeetleWings originally didn't inhabit this area because of the difficult, mountainous terrain that disadvantaged them. After thousands of years, this group of BeetleWings evolved into a new tribe adapted to living in the mountains. The PeakWings continue to live in the mountains, their existence unknown to the dominant Pantalan tribes.

NymphWings

Description: hatched underwater with six legs and no wings; live underwater until they turn six when they come to the surface and molt, coming out with two pairs of wings and four legs; long and skinny with short horns and long antennae; small, sharp claws; three long, skinny tails; usually darker colors such as black, gray, brown, green, blue, orange, or red

Abilities: before molting, they can breathe underwater through white hairs that work as gills; agile swimmers and flyers; venomous fangs; can sense vibrations and communicate through antennae; can produce silk from glands on their wrists

Queen: Queen Caddisfly

~

The NymphWings have existed for a long time, but their existence had been forgotten when the GrassWings, HiveWings, and SilkWings moved to Pyrrhia. This tribe resides along the southern coast of Pantala. Before they molt, NymphWing dragonets live in the ocean under Dragontail Peninsula or behind the spines of Pantala. After they molt and leave the water, they reside in the area between Cicada and Mantis Hive, or the area between Mantis Hive and Lake Scorpion.

With this area now occupied by the LeafSilk Kingdom, the tribe will likely be rediscovered by the SilkWings and LeafWings; however, the friendly NymphWings will most likely not have problems with this and instead be welcomed into the kingdom.

[babyrdie]

Writing that post about texts related to Patroclus and I decided to consider Fabulae, since its myths are Greek although the author is not. Well, I discovered that for some reason Hyginus made a list of the most beautiful:

THOSE WHO WERE MOST HANDSOME: Iasion, son of Ilithius, whom Ceres is said to have loved [credible, since vouched for by old histories]. Cinyras, son of Paphos, king of the Assyrians. Anchises, son of Assaracus, whom Venus loved. Alexander Paris, son of Priam and Hecuba, whom Helen followed. Nireus, son of Charops. Cephalus, son of Pandion, whom Aurora loved. Tithonus, husband of Aurora. Parthenopaeus, son of Meleager and Atalanta. Achilles, son of Peleus and Thetis. Patroclus, son of Menoetius. Idomeneus, who loved Helen. Theseus, son of Aegeus and Aethra, whom Ariadne loved.

And Patroclus is here! Good for him, I guess. Although I'm surprised Ajax isn't listed.

[breytilegt]

A quick acrylic marker sketch of one of @nireu-art's characters to get my head back in the game.