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[writersblock-dontget-me]

Me: Oh wow, Apollo writing for the Odyssey-

My need for lore-accurate Elpenor; *strangles me and leaves me there* can you write Elpenor being bullied for being the youngest? It’s not a hurt/comfort thing, I just need to see him being bullied for being the youngest.

Yah!!

The sun had been cruel all afternoon, pressing its weight down on the backs of men who’d grown too used to salt and sweat. The ship was anchored for the night, pulled onto the shore like a tired beast, and the crew sprawled in the sand with their cloaks flung over shoulders, their boots tossed in a pile, and their spirits drifting just a hair above mutiny.

They’d eaten well—bread still dry, oil still sharp, wine still warm from the packs. Talk came easy, quick as dice clattering against flat stone.

And then Elpenor yawned.

A simple, human thing. Harmless.

But unfortunately, he did it too loud.

Too long.

Too sweetly.

“Gods above,” muttered Perimedes, flicking a crumb in Elpenor’s direction. “Did the boy just purr?”

“I think that was a kitten noise,” said Eurylochus, squinting at Elpenor like he was studying a strange bug. “You hear that, Odysseus? Sounds like someone’s ready for his nap.”

Odysseus, whose sense of humor rose and fell with the tide, glanced over with one brow arched. “Has someone rocked him lately?”

“Shut up,” Elpenor muttered, though it came out more like a whine.

“Oho!” said Polites, leaping to his feet and pitching his voice into falsetto. “‘Shut up!’ Oh, listen to that tone. That’s how my niece sounds before she throws olives at the wall.”

“You have a niece?” said Antiphates, grinning. “That’s new.”

“I made her up just now, but she’s already more useful in a fight than this one.”

Elpenor groaned and dropped back against a rolled sail, his curls matted to one side and his arms folded like a child sent to sulk. “You’re all older than dirt. That doesn’t make you wise. Just wrinkly.”

“Wrinkly and alive,” said Eurylochus. “Which is more than I can say for babes who climb onto rooftops when they’re drunk. Didn’t you try that in Aeolia?”

“I was trying to retrieve the—”

“You were trying to impress that fishmonger’s daughter, and you fell off the edge like a dropped sack of onions.”

“She was impressed,” Elpenor shot back. “She laughed so hard she almost choked.”

“Ah yes, the foundation of all romance,” said Perimedes dryly. “Death by wheezing.”

“I hate all of you.”

“That’s fair,” said Polites, slapping Elpenor’s knee with the familiarity of someone who knew just how far to push. “But you’ll still end up eating the burnt crusts, boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” Elpenor grumbled. “I’ve killed men. I’ve seen battle. I’ve watched Helios rise over shattered masts and prayed for mercy!”

“And you still call your blanket ‘my lucky wrap.’”

“Because it is lucky!”

“Because it hasn’t caught fire yet.”

Odysseus chuckled now, finally leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. “Let the boy be,” he said. “He’s got strong legs, quick hands, and more nerve than half of you. That’s worth something.”

There was a brief pause.

Then Polites leaned in and said, “Strong legs, quick hands… sounds like someone’s writing a poem about him.”

“Gods, no,” Eurylochus muttered. “If Elpenor starts writing poetry, I’m jumping overboard.”

“Too late,” said Elpenor, sitting up straight and grinning now.

That earned a collective groan and at least three half-hearted threats of violence.

He was the youngest, sure. But he was theirs.

For now, anyway.

[writersblock-dontget-me]

can you make a fluffy leodes x gn!reader? there’s barely any content of him and it’s sad :(

Hell yeah why not :D

Olive Oil and Starlight

Pairing: Leodes x GN!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 706

Setting: Ithaca, just before Odysseus’s return

Warnings: None

The halls of Odysseus’s palace were quieter at dusk. The golden light, thick and warm, spilled over marble floors and worn stone like honey, catching on the olive leaves that rustled in the windless court. Servants bustled, their voices hushed, and the suitors for once seemed to be elsewhere—arguing, likely, or loudly toasting their own reflections.

You knelt in the courtyard, pressing dried lavender and thyme into a scrap of cloth. Your fingers moved with practiced ease, though your thoughts were far away, floating somewhere between memory and yearning. You weren’t sure why you stayed—why you hadn’t fled like so many others from the palace’s choking tension—but some part of you felt... anchored here.

"You always smell of lavender."

The voice behind you was soft, familiar. You looked over your shoulder to find Leodes, leaning against one of the stone columns with his arms folded across his chest, his expression unreadable but gentle.

You arched a brow, grinning faintly. "And you always approach like a whisper. Ever the seer."

He didn’t laugh, not quite, but his smile flickered. "Habit. It helps… to not disturb the threads."

You tied off the pouch with a strip of wool and stood, brushing herb dust from your tunic. "So, what signs have you read today, oh wise one?"

Leodes stepped closer, hands loose at his sides. “The gods are quiet. As if they, too, are waiting.”

He glanced toward the west, where the sun kissed the sea and made the water shimmer gold. You followed his gaze. Silence lingered, thick with the kind of comfort that only comes from long understanding.

“You don’t seem to care for them,” you said after a while. “The other suitors.”

"I don’t," he said simply.

You turned toward him. “Then why stay?”

Leodes hesitated. “Because someone must witness. And—” he looked at you now, and something in his eyes softened, "—not everyone here is as empty as they are."

Your breath caught for a heartbeat, just a little. Leodes never spoke carelessly. His words were chosen with care, his feelings filtered like sacred oil through linen. So when he said something, you listened.

"And what do you see in me?" you asked, voice quieter now. Not teasing.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze drifted back to your lavender pouch, then to your fingers — scarred slightly from long work, stained with earth and herbs and ink. He took a small step forward, then another, until only a hand’s span lay between you.

"I see someone who remembers what kindness is," he said. "Even in a place that has forgotten."

Your heart stirred. You felt something tighten in your throat, warm and quiet.

"You know," you murmured, eyes not quite meeting his, "I think the gods send omens in moments like these. The kind that don’t need fire or birds."

Leodes tilted his head. “And what is this moment telling you?”

You lifted your eyes to his. “That I want you to stay. After all this. After Odysseus returns, and the palace is quiet again, and the dust settles.”

He looked stunned for a moment — not from disbelief, but from the softness of it. From the hope in it.

"Stay... with you?" he asked, gently.

"If you want," you replied. "I don’t need prophecies. I just know.”

His expression flickered — like dawn through thin cloud — and then slowly, reverently, he reached out. His hand brushed yours, then curled around it, warm and callused.

"I’ve read omens in flame and bone,” he murmured, “but none have ever felt as certain as your hand in mine.”

You smiled — a real one — and leaned your shoulder lightly against his. He didn’t flinch. He just stood there beside you as the last of the sun dipped below the sea and the first stars began to prick the darkening sky.

He didn’t speak again, but you felt it in the way his thumb gently moved across your knuckles. In the way he breathed more easily when you didn’t pull away. In the quiet, sacred bond that needed no divine sign to be real.

And for once, in a palace haunted by waiting and noise, the evening held something simple.

Something soft.

Something like love.

Hope this was good! ^^

[writersblock-dontget-me]

hiii!! call me apollo/hank. idc about pronouns you can use any. I’m 21 and this is my writing blog! some stuff is usually self indulgent but. idc.

reqs open for: date everything and the Iliad/odyssey

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