#Alternate title:

[densewentz]

Take Your Kid to Work Day (with Dream's decidedly more alarming version of an artist rendering their kid's drawing)

[cirr0stratus]

I will not mention the last time I saw you

my submission for todays @webgottweek prompt!

[starscream7799]

When Megatron does smth stupid and u can't speak up or else he'll shoot u

[peaches2217]

Summer Rain

AO3 link!

~~~

There’s nothing quite like falling ten feet to the ground and landing flat on one’s back to bring a person back into reality. When he came to, Mario’s first reaction was relief. Rest, finally. Everything burned. His throat, his lungs, his muscles, his stomach. His ears rang and his head spun and his vision created doubles of every last block and obstacle overhead, and at long last, he was free to simply lay in the grass and observe passively.

As with all good things, it didn't last.

Get up.

The all-too-familiar voice, maybe his own and maybe some divine call from the universe, repeated these words in his head, but he couldn’t make his muscles obey. He could hardly breathe; air returned to him in unsteady gasps, and with each one, his short-lived relief melted further and further into frustration.

Get up. Something gurgled in his throat that was neither air nor bile, and the taste of copper coated his tongue. Get up. How had he slipped? He’d run this training gauntlet hundreds of times, if not thousands, in the past weeks. Had he grown complacent? Get up. This was no time for complacency. No time for failure. Get up, get up, get up.

“Mario!” He registered the cry of his name the same way he registered the pain in his spine or the ache in his limbs or the muted yet near-constant growling of his gut: with little more than passing acknowledgement. He knew he was hurt. He knew he was hungry. He knew someone was calling out to him. He didn’t care. His only concern was get up, get up, get up, sit up, stand up, get back to training.

Get back to her.

“Mario?”

Just as soon as he’d pulled himself to his knees, dizziness overtook Mario, and he barely caught himself on his hands, his arms shaking from the effort to support his weight. Her voice. All it took was the ghost of her voice to sap his fight, drain the furor that fueled him, until he was empty, empty, empty.

She wasn’t— he knew she wasn’t— and yet she— she sounded so near—

“Oh, Mario,” Peach sighed, pressing a gloved hand to her cheek, “what am I going to do? If I have to sit through one more unproductive commission on import tax rates, I think I’m going to scream.”

Mario chuckled sympathetically. “So I’m guessing third time wasn’t the charm after all?”

“I thought surely the senators would be just as sick of all the arguing as I am by now. Sadly, I’m fairly certain they enjoy it.” Another sigh. “So a fourth commission has been scheduled for Thursday.”

Thursday. Mario wracked his head for upcoming happenings, possible excuses, any circumstance he could twist in her favor, and he found it in short order.

“Hmm… it sure is a shame you won’t be there for that meeting, Princess.”

Peach halted in her tracks, and Mario stopped alongside her, meeting her confusion with pointed nonchalance.

“I… won’t be?”

“You didn’t forget, did you? That play in Mushroom City you were invited to? That’s Thursday night, yeah?”

Peach shook her head. “Mario, I’d hardly call a letter written in crayon by a child begging me to attend their Kindergarten theatre production an ‘invitation.’ More of a… um…” A pause. The realization clicked into place, her bright eyes glowing ever brighter in the twilight, and she graced Mario with a sly, cheerful smile. “Well, how many children have the courage to write to the castle directly? It would be rude to turn such a thoughtful invitation down.”

“My thoughts exactly!” He nudged her side, winking up at her. “Now, I know you’d rather sit and listen to grouchy old Toads shout over each other all day, but we all have to make sacrifices sometimes, yeah?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” A very un-regal giggle slipped her lips, juvenile in its conniving yet ethereal all the same, and Mario couldn’t help but feel especially proud of himself. “So we’ll meet at the carriage hold Thursday at dawn, then? Plenty enough time to escape before Toadsworth catches on.”

Her proposal didn’t surprise him; it had become customary, after all, to act as her guard any time she ventured beyond the palace walls. This made her invitation no less sacred to him. “You can count on me, Princess.”

Peach took a moment to breathe in the fresh spring evening, exhale her worries, and as their walk resumed, her hand found his, small and light but present and real and warm. “Oh, Mario,” she laughed, “you’re my hero!”

You’re my hero…

Another rush of oxygen hit his brain, and she was gone once more. Memories of golden hair in the waning light of sunset were washed out in smudges of green and brown and red — his fingers digging into the earth, damp from a recent summer rain, a trickle of blood dripping from his bottom lip onto the backs of his hands.

Some hero he was. 

A familiar pressure welled within his chest, and he huffed in relief. Anger. It made his heart pump harder and brought his surroundings back into focus and flooded him with unbearable energy, and he was finally able to clamor to his feet, spitting blood so he could breathe properly. Turning towards the gauntlet’s nearest springboard, he wiped his sleeve over his mouth and let that rage consume him once more, let himself believe again that it wasn’t rage at all, but hope. Hope in its rawest, most painful form.

She was counting on him. He would bring her home. He would have pleasant evening walks in the gardens with her again, he would laugh with her over tea and cakes, he would ensure no similar misfortune ever befell her again. Maybe he would even tell her that he loved her, just so he could say he no longer held any secrets from her. And until that day came, he would train and train and train until no force, earthly or cosmic, could stand in his way.

How could you let this happen?

That fragile illusion of hope burst into flames, its fire coursing through Mario’s veins, but now that he was on his feet again, he made no further effort to fool himself. With a final, sharp breath, he lunged forward—

“Basta così!”

Something caught his left wrist, and the unexpected intrusion snuffed Mario’s fire, like water tossed on a blazing bed of coals. He clenched his jaw and smoldered uselessly for a moment, quivering with unspent energy, giving his captor a chance to free him without provocation. The grasp ensnaring him only tightened.

“Lasciami andare, Lu.” He kept his voice as steady as possible, deathly quiet and low, because he knew it would shake if he raised it any louder, and he couldn’t afford to be perceived as weak.

“No.” Luigi’s voice was equally unwavering. “I’ve let this go on long enough. You’re coming home.”

Mario scoffed. Oh, now his timid little brother was choosing to stand his ground. Now, of all times, for all purposes—! He lurched forward to free himself. He didn’t have time for such games.

Luigi moved with him easily, and before Mario could reestablish his footing, he was yanked backwards by the arm so hard that his vision went blurry and his legs briefly gave out beneath him.

But he didn’t have time to collapse. Luigi powered ahead, and Mario was forced to twist his body in the same direction and stumble along behind him, and by the time his surroundings stopped shifting they were well past the athletic center’s gate and into the streets of Toad Town.

What in the Eight Realms was going on? His brother was strong, but he was stronger. It should have been easy to pull free or at least anchor himself and force an impasse, but he wouldn’t slow down.

“Let me go, Luigi,” he repeated in their mother tongue, half so the dozens of Toads craning their stubby necks as he was dragged past couldn’t eavesdrop and half because his grasp on the English language was one of the first things to go when he was upset. 

“You really think I’m that useless?” Luigi didn’t even look over his shoulder as he responded in the same tongue, yet his voice pierced through the ambiance of the streets. “I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Another white-hot burst of fury flared within Mario, and he tried once again to break free (once again, to no avail). Useless? A “missing friend”? A princess — their Princess! — was abducted by a notoriously homicidal warlord who promised to kill her and seize her kingdom by force unless he was met with unconditional surrender, and all his brother cared about was how he was perceived? How these events affected him?

Mario was the only living person with any chance of bringing her home safely, or at least alive. He’d devoted himself to that cause wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Fought and trained and redefined himself over the past two months while waiting for royal spies to figure out where she was actually being held. He’d never thought Luigi to be so selfish, that he’d stand in his way. That he’d sooner trade Peach’s life for his. Did she really mean that little to him? The very thought nauseated him. Or maybe those were hunger pangs.

They arrived at their shared cottage in short order, and Mario spit one last mouthful of blood into the grass before he could be dragged onto the porch and through the door. This wasn’t just selfish. This was betrayal of the highest order. 

Luigi all but tossed him inside, and only then did he let go. Mario seethed at his green-and-blue-clad back as he shut and locked the door, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly, stimulating the once-restricted blood flow. Betrayed by the last person he would ever have suspected. The one person who should have been supporting him, who he’d thought already was supporting him before today. He held his internal fire close at bay, ready to make his disappointment and disapproval clear, and with a heavy sigh, Luigi turned to face him—

“This isn’t your fault, Mario.”

Mario’s belligerence fizzled out. Where there was once fire, there was now ice, still and cold.

“...What?”

“This isn’t your fault.” Luigi enunciated each word carefully as he approached his older brother. “N-no one blames you for this except for you. So you’re not proving anything to anyone by torturing yourself, bro, okay?”

For a long moment, all Mario could do was gape in bewilderment. Not once since the Princess’ abduction had a word been uttered about blame. There was no need, he'd just as quickly assumed: anyone with two functioning brain cells knew exactly who was to blame, and verbalizing accusations wouldn’t get her home any faster, so he bore his cross with a heavy heart and his head held high. 

Even Luigi had never spoken up on the matter. Mario just assumed that meant he agreed. Why bother kicking someone that’s already down?

“I-I…” Mario swallowed. No. No, he was lying. Reality was sinking in and he was lying in a last-ditch effort to defend what hadn’t already been lost. He knew just as well as Mario that… and yet he…

Selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“I’m her guard, Luigi,” he finally answered, and unpleasant but ever-familiar heat rose once more within him, making his face and ears tingle. “It’s my job to protect her! Literally my job!”

“Yeah, during the day! But you’re acting like she was nabbed under your watch! You’re acting like everyone expects you to be on guard twenty-four-seven!” He drew closer to lay a hand on Mario’s left shoulder; what should have been comfortable and familiar instead felt foreign and cumbersome. “The truth is, you were exactly where you were supposed to be when it happened: in bed, conked out.”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have hit as hard as those words.

Mario jerked away from his brother’s touch, nostrils flared, breath coming to him far too quickly now. If he grit his teeth any tighter, he was certain they’d crack. Yes, he’d been asleep that night. He’d protected his Princess like always during the day and left her to fend for herself at sundown and he’d never forgive himself for it. So much for not kicking someone while they’re down.

“Thanks,” he huffed. “Very helpful reminder.”

“Mario, that’s not what—” Luigi sagged backwards, his eyes rolling to the ceiling in exasperation, as if he was the one who’d been slighted, and he cursed beneath his breath before refocusing. “She was never your sole responsibility. Everyone knows that but you. And no one wants to see you run yourself into the ground like this. Th-they trust you! They love you! Seeing how much guilt you're drowning in, seeing how badly you’re hurting, that hurts them, and—”

A deep, shaking breath. Mario tapped his foot impatiently, his fists clenched.

“A-and it hurts me too!" Luigi finally confessed. "Mario, you’re not the only victim here! How do you think I’ve been handling all of this?”

“Forget about that!” Mario fired back. “Just imagine what she’s going through! Can you think about something other than yourself for once and look at the bigger picture?!”

Alarms sounded deep in the recesses of his brain, warning signals, crying a mantra of Too far, too far, too far. He didn’t care. He couldn’t afford to care.

“She wouldn’t want this either! If she was here—”

That was the final straw. Putting words in the Princess’ mouth— what little patience or composure Mario still held, already stretched thin, snapped. 

“Well she’s not!” He stamped his foot like a child throwing a tantrum, grasping Luigi’s arm and forcing him to look directly into his eyes. “Don’t— don’t you dare tell me what she’d say or what she’d do! You don’t have that right! Because you’re not her, and she’s not…”

Mario blinked. Had… had Luigi always looked this tired? His eyes, normally so cheerful and blue, appeared dull and gray, wide with regret and brimming with unshed tears. And there were bags under those eyes too, and overgrown flyaways poking through his normally well-groomed mustache, and…

“...here.” All of his bravado, all of his energy, left him as he whispered that final word.

How long had it been since he’d fulfilled his role as the older brother? Peach was Luigi’s friend too. He was every bit as much Mario's responsibility as Peach was.

“I don’t need a missing friend and a dead brother.”

Only in the ensuing stillness did Mario realize how terribly he shook. He felt both weightless and impossibly leaden, cold and clammy, trembling not in outrage or determination, but something far meeker, far more pathetic: fear.

He was no hero. He was an idiot who’d failed someone he claimed to love and was desperate to make things right, no matter the personal cost. He was a useless brother that dealt with his own inadequacies by lashing out at those who cared for him most. He was nothing.

“Weegee…”

Luigi swallowed, taking a deep, slow breath before responding. “Martyring yourself isn’t the answer. I mean, think for a minute here. You can’t save her if you get yourself killed first.”

It overtook Mario again, a wave of unwelcome emotion, and his knees wobbled beneath him, threatening to buckle.

“Then… then what do you suggest I do? Huh? Clearly you have more answers than I do! So tell me what to do!”  He let go of Luigi’s arms to grasp his overall straps and pull him down, searching his face for those fabled answers. There was no spite in his words or his actions. He shouted at and jostled his brother not in anger, but in pure helplessness. “Tell me what to do!”

The uncertainty etched into Luigi’s face didn’t go away completely, but he buried it beneath something harder, more determined. He braced his gloved hands against Mario’s shoulders, grounding and steady.

“I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do,” he said, his voice low yet firm. “You’re going to sit right there on that couch, or on the floor, or wherever you feel like, and you’re gonna cry and scream and get all of this pent-up anger out of your system. And then — look at me, Mario, listen!” He jostled the elder brother back, shaking his shoulders. “Then you’re going to eat something. Okay?” He smiled then, the strain of it contorting his face into some pitiful mimicry of humor. “We can’t have you wasting away when the Princess sees you again, yeah? What would she say?”

Mario’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly swollen shut.

What would she say? Maybe she would rush forward and cup his cheeks, demanding to know what happened and if he was alright, as if he was the one who had been swept away in the dead of night. Maybe she would be so exhausted and so weakened that she didn’t notice; maybe she would only have the strength to smile as he took her battered body into his arms, her face pale but her eyes vibrant. Maybe her gaze would be glassy and there would be nothing left to hold but an empty shell that had once been his best friend, her fate sealed the moment she’d chosen to place her trust in him.

Or maybe he would die long before he reached her. If only he could trust anyone else to save her, he would have been perfectly fine with that outcome. It was the least he deserved. But that would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? What would become of her then? What would become of Luigi?

He would be free of his suffering, and it would fall directly onto their shoulders instead.

How could you let this happen?

The breath trapped in his throat forced its way back out, some mix between a cough and a hiccup, and finally his knees gave out. He held on tighter and sunk his face into his twin’s shirt collar, and he tried to apologize, he tried to beg forgiveness, but the only sound he could produce was a breathless, almost primal whine.

“Ecco.” Luigi’s voice cracked yet remained soft as he sank to the ground with him, cradling his head close. “Sfogati. Ti sono vicino, fratello.”

Mario’s intended response came out once more as a whine. Ti voglio bene. Ho paura. Aiutami. Ti prego aiutami. Each effort to speak proved increasingly futile until he gave up entirely, surrendering to the wordless screams and sobs and tears his overworked, underfed body forced from him. And Luigi just held him, his fingers brushing through his hair as he fell apart.

Thunder rumbled distantly outside, heralding another summer rain.

~~~

“I’m sorry.”

By the time Mario was able to speak, he still didn’t have much to show for it; his voice was too hoarse to do anything but whisper, and the pounding ache in his head prevented him from doing even that very well.

Luigi shushed him, readjusting his head in his lap. “Just relax.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish,” he continued anyway, curling into himself tighter, soaking in as much of his brother’s body heat as he could. “Or useless.”

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t have any right to go off on you like that.”

“In your shoes, I doubt I’d be handling things much better.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I forgive you. Now we’re even.”

This remark wasn’t quite enough to make Mario smile, but it did make him feel lighter, if only a bit. From his spot on the floor, he watched the rain patter against the living room window, dark and dreary and soothing. With the rain outside and Luigi’s fingers still combing through his curls, he felt properly sleepy for the first time in ages, a feeling far more pleasant than the exhaustion that had plagued him for eight, coming up on nine weeks.

Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d slept in his own bed? Most nights he’d find the nearest wall to slump against or a decent patch of grass to crash in when he couldn’t make his body cooperate any longer. And when was the last time he’d had a proper meal? Luigi had forced him to sit down and eat a packet of crackers a day or two ago, Toad brought him soup sometime last week and refused to leave until he downed at least half of it, but…

“Weegee?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.”

The hand in his hair stilled, and the response came after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Well duh. Of course you are.” His voice wavered, yet Mario could tell he was smiling. “What’d’ya want? We’ve got plenty enough to make anything. Don’t hold back.”

Mario hummed, closing his eyes. Making that choice on his own was a mental process he didn’t have the resources for. “Surprise me.”

Luigi vocalized his approval, but he didn’t move to stand quite yet. Instead, the hand in Mario’s hair found his own hand, and he gladly took it, permitting himself that comfort at least.

“Hey Mario? Can you… promise me something first?”

Mario nodded, a small and rapid movement of his head. He knew what was coming: Promise me you’ll eat everything I put in front of you. Promise me you’ll take a bath. Promise me you’ll get into clean clothes and sleep on a bed tonight. He was all too ready to agree. It was the least he owed his long-suffering brother.

“When you save the Princess… promise me you’ll come home too. Okay?”

Mario’s eyes snapped back open. The rain still fell against the window before him, steady and unending.

Easy enough to promise, at least in theory. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to make more pleasant memories with his friends, with his love, with his brother especially. There were so many adventures he still wanted to go on. So many things he wanted to see and do. But if worst came to worst, and he had to lay his life down to save Peach’s… he’d already made up his mind.

“This isn’t your fault.”

He took in a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaled it slowly through his lips. Luigi was strong and selfless. He’d had the strength to lie just so he could ease Mario’s woes. The least Mario could do was offer up a comforting lie of his own.

“Yeah.” He nodded again, and if maybe he held Luigi’s hand a bit too tightly, that was okay. “Yeah, I think I can promise that.”

[quartz-rott]

Forget me not

[howicked]

Jim Howick in YONDERLAND: Who's the Naughtiest on Set? (PART 2)

[spookky-aint-spooky]

on my knees in a mentally unstable way for this man

[twomanyfandomshelp]

If you haven’t listened to the Thunder Saga yet, this is your spoiler warning.

Also, look at this album cover art! It’s so beautiful.

Apologies in advance for all the caps lock you’re about to see, and please ignore whatever typos or grammatical errors you find, it’s like three in the morning.

Enjoy watching me slowly lose my mind and my commentary become more and more unhinged.

MR. RIVERA-HERRANS

JORGE

JAY

MR. JALPEÑO

MY HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS WHY MUST YOU BE SO TALENTED never stop please Jay I need more I need your music directly in my veins

SUFFERING

Oh my gosh, I figured this song would be about the sirens but what the heck how did I not realize the siren would pretend to be Penelope?!

“Come play with me and our daughter” Excuse me, Mrs. Siren you are incorrect, he has a son and he is wonderful how dare you disrespect Telemachus like that. Watching chat go crazy over this line during the watch party was pretty fun though.

Odysseus tricking the siren into telling him how to avoid Poseidon was so smart!

YOU’RE TELLING ME EVEN POSEIDON IS AFRAID OF SCYLLA?!

This chorus is a bop

DIFFERENT BEAST

Oh my gosh this is such a tone shift from the last one and I love it!

I LOVE THIS CHORUS AND THE CALLBACKS OH MY GOSH

My man is so smart and I love him for it. Not only did he figure out there were sirens nearby just from an empty ship, but he had the whole crew put beeswax in their ears and scoop up the sirens while he distracted their leader (I’m assuming she’s their leader?! idk) and tricked her into telling him how to avoid Poseidon!

THE SIRENS BEGGING ODYSSEUS TO SPARE THEM AND ODYSSEUS’ RESPONSE OH MY GOD “i made a mistake like this/it almost cost my life/I can’t take more risks of not seeing my wife/cut off their tails, we’re ending this now/throw their bodies back in the water/let them drown” SIR WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DOWN WITH MY ODY?!?! HE WAS NOT KIDDING ABOUT BECOMING THE MONSTER RUTHLESSNESS IS MERCY UPON OURSELVES

And now the chorus is different and it’s talking about Odysseus and the choice he made to become a monster and ahfhsidhsndg

ODYSSEUS SCREAMING TO KILL THEM ALL AND THE SIRENS’ SCREAMS?!?! JORGE!!!!

SCYLLA

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh

KJ BURKHAUSER’S VOICE IS SO FREAKING BEAUTIFUL I LOVE IT SHE SOUNDS SO PRETTY AND HAUNTING AT THE SAME TIME AND THEN SHE GETS SCARY AND I JUST AAAAAHHH🧎‍♀️🙇🏼‍♀️

“Deep down you know that we are the same” Excuse me ma’am what does that mean?!

EURYLOCHUS HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US?!?? I already knew he opened the fucking bag but it hurts to hear him admit it out loud

EURYLOCHUS’ “forgive me” SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE ODYSSEUS’ “forgive me” FROM JUST A MAN AND I KNOW THAT’S THE POINT BUT IT STILL BREAKS MY HEART

FULL SPEED AHEAD

“Eurylochus, light up six torches” NO ODY DON’T DO IT DON’T SACRIFICE YOUR MEN

THAT “hello” EXCUSE ME MA’AM??!?!!

HER VOICE OH MY FUCKING GOD

THE SCREAMS IN THE BACKGROUND AS THE SIX MEN ARE TAKEN AAAAAAHHHHHH

MUTINY

I love the snippets we’ve heard of this one, I’m very excited and so very scared.

EURYLOCHUS IS SO PISSED AT ODYSSEUS OH MY GOD NO STOP TALKING EURY YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED!!!

HERE IT IS HERE’S THE PART I KNOW OH MY GOD I’M SO SCARED!!!

WHAT THE REST OF THE CREW STEPPED IN AND STABBED ODYSSEUS INSTEAD BECAUSE HOW COULD THEY EVER TRUST HIM AGAIN KNOWING THAT HE’LL SACRIFICE THEM TO GET HOME!!!

NO DON’T DO IT EURY DON’T EAT THE COWS!!! I DON’T CARE HOW FUCKING HUNGRY YOU ARE EURYLOCHUS DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THOSE COWS!!!

THE CALLBACKS TO LUCK RUNS OUT!!!

OH MY FUCKING GOD EURYLOCHUS JUST CALLED HIM ODY OH MY GOSH “Ody we’re never gonna get to make it home, you know it’s true… You don’t know that’s true!” Eurylochus no don’t give up if you give up you’re definitely never making it back home 😢

OH MY GOD NOW EURYLOCHUS SAID “I’m just a man” SIR YOU DON’T GET TO SAY THAT IT’S ONE THING TO KILL AN INFANT TO SAVE YOUR WIFE AND SON IT IS ANOTHER TO OPEN A BAG THAT YOUR CAPTAIN SPECIFICALLY SAID NOT TO OPEN BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T TRUST HIM WHEN GUESS WHAT HE WAS RIGHT AND OH LOOK NOW YOU’VE KILLED MOST OF YOUR MEN ARE YOU HAPPY EURYLOCHUS OH AND NOW YOU’VE KILLED APOLLO’S CATTLE WHICH IS GOING TO KILL EVERYONE ELSE WHAT THE FUCK EURYLOCHUS THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT AND NO SHUT UP I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING 😭

NO NO NO DON’T KILL THE FUCKING COWS

The way Odysseus immediately goes into leader mode and starts commanding his men in a desperate attempt to save them even though they just LITERALLY FUCKING STABBED HIM IN THE BACK and he begged them not to kill the cows

“We’re too late” oh my god you can the emotion in Ody’s voice because he desperately wants to save his men and they’ve doomed themselves

THUNDER BRINGER

YES I’M SO FUCKING READY LET’S GOOOOOO

Luke Holt has an amazing voice oh my gosh the way he says distress and confess 🥵

I KNOW WE’VE ALREADY HEARD THIS CHORUS BUT IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD OH MY GOD

“Choose. …choose?… Someone’s gotta die today, and you have got the final say. You or your crew.” OH MY GOD WAIT WHAT I DIDN’T REALIZE ODYSSEUS HAD TO CHOOSE WHAT NO

It’s giving that one TikTok sound “One and two. One of you’s gonna die. The other’s gonna live. And, the thing is, it’s your choice.”

JUST ZUES FORCING ODYSSEUS TO MAKE ANOTHER IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE!!!!

The combination of the crew singing the lyrics from Just a Man and Penelope singing about taking away Odysseus’ suffering is just… so beautiful and so heartbreaking at the same time

“Captain?… I have to see her… But we’ll die… I know” OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK JAY AND ARMANDO HOW CAN YOU DO THIS THE EMOTION THAT THESE MEN CAN CONVEY WITH JUST THEIR VOICES IS UNREAL

And now we’re back to Luke’s absolutely phenomenal voice as Zues just massacres Odysseus’ crew

NOT THE SAD PIANO PLAY OUT NO JAY DON’T oh it’s too late, now I’m crying.

[kvaughanarts]

A match made in heaven

[oakwolves]

Grace the protagonist that you are…

[elliebell77]

you caught him with his glasses off

[sunfishsiestalah]

Midnight Conversation

[cirr0stratus]

does the Lord make house calls?

“The radio followed close behind, and he gingerly slid it over his back, wincing when the sharp corner of the cold metal dug into the small of his back.

He didn’t need to bring the radio — hardly ever, almost — but he always did, anyways. Like a comfort that did nothing.”

inspired by the little talks collection by @blood-mocha-latte

[toitlechaos]

Did I ever tell you that I hate that story?

[ceescedasticity]

A fairy-tale

[Some version of this is probably going to be the next Unforsaken chapter, but I'm not 100% sure on the details yet.]

Once upon a time in a faraway land there lived two little fairy-princes. The Fairy-King and Fairy-Queen were good and kind and fair and loved each other and their children very, very much. They lived happily in peace, until one day a band of wicked Gnomes came to steal the kingdom's treasures. They killed the King and Queen, and cast the little fairy-princes into the wilderness to die.

But so great was the Fairy-Queen's love for her sons that she did not pass into the land of the dead but followed after the children, and found them, and they knew her and begged her to save them. Being a ghost she could not carry them to safety, so she reminded them of the power of their grandmother, a sorceress who changed her shape and spoke with birds. If they could take up that power, they might turn into birds and fly far away.

So the princes thought, and they whispered together; and then all at once there were not two fairy-princes but two great grey swans. The swans and the ghost flew far away from the Gnomes and the darkening wood, across plains and forests and mountains, until at last they came to a fair land where they might dwell in safety.

But the fairy-princes were not sorcerers like their grandmother; they did not know how to turn back into fairies, and the ghost could not tell them.

The ghost meant to stay with the swans always, but no land is safe for a ghost. A Shadow came hunting, and while she evaded it for a time, she could not evade it forever.

And then they were left all alone.

They shunned the dwellings of Elves and Men alike, for they feared any might hunt them as game or prove their enemy if they somehow explained who they were. They wanted their mother, but she had forbidden them from seeking her or going near the Shadow, and they were afraid.

So even though they yet had kin who would have welcomed and protected them, the fairy-princes were all alone in the world save each other for a very long time.

****

Many years later, after kingdoms rose and fell and the world was changed, the fairy-princes came across a brown wizard. They had never met before, but he recognized them and called out to them, for he knew their great-grandmother long, long ago; and as he knew the speech of birds, he could well understand them.

The princes were wary, but they sensed nothing of Shadow about the wizard, and at last returned and agreed to speak to him.

The brown wizard knew many things. Since he was being a wizard and not a fairy he could not himself change his shape, but he told them how they might once more take on the shape of Elves, and they did so.

But the wizard had not known them long ago before their home was ruined, so though he knew their names he could not tell them which name belonged to which fairy-prince, and they found they themselves had long forgotten.

The fairy-princes were distraught, and took the shape of swans once more, and fled.

****

Some time later the brown wizard found the fairy-princes again. This time he told them that they had a great-uncle yet in Middle-earth, and a nephew, and either would be overjoyed to welcome them.

But the fairy-princes said, "We do not remember any uncle, and we are sure we never met any nephew. How could we approach them as kin when we do not remember who we are? We will not go."

So the brown wizard told them of ships which took the Straight Road to the Blessed Land. Not only was their great-grandmother there, and their sister, but their lost father had been reborn there. The Elves who sailed the ships would welcome them even as swans, if they wished to speak to no one before their father, who would rejoice to see them.

At this the fairy-princes wavered, for they did remember their father and miss him, and surely he would know them. But—

"You did not say our mother was there," said the fairy-princes.

The wizard bowed his head. "I will not lie to you. She is not. I do not know where she is."

"We will not leave these shores until our mother is freed from the Shadow," said the fairy-princes, and they flew away.

****

The next time the brown wizard found the fairy-princes, he told them how their nephew and their great-uncle and all their kin left in Middle-earth were fighting the Shadow. Would the princes not go and fight alongside them? The wizard would vouch for them so they need say nothing of who they were if they wished not to speak of it.

But the fairy-princes said: "We will not go among Elves while we do not remember who we are." And they flew away again.

****

When next the brown wizard found the fairy-princes, he spoke of his blue brothers, who lived far away to the South and the East and dealt mainly with Men. The fairy-princes could go to either of them, and live as wizard's-kin, and the Men would understand they were different and not demand they be Men or Elves.

"How is that better than how we live now?" asked the fairy-princes.

"You would be safe," the wizard said.

"We do not need your safety and we will not live with your blue wizards," said the fairy-princes, and they flew away.

****

The next time the brown wizard found the fairy-princes they flew away before he could speak to them.

****

The next time the fairy-princes saw the wizard, he was high in the sky alongside them, on the back of a giant goose.

"Speak a while with me, fairy-swans," said the goose.

So the fairy-princes flew down to the ground, to speak with the wizard and the Queen of the Geese.

"You are fine well-grown swans," said the Queen of the Geese. "And you have done very well all this time on your own."

"Do not speak as though you are our mother," said the fairy-princes.

"But if you are swans you are of my people, and I am as a mother to all my flock," said the Queen of the Geese. "Will you instead allow Aiwendil to bring you among Elves or Men?"

To that the fairy-princes said nothing.

"You are fine well-grown swans, and you have done very well all this time on your own," the Queen of the Geese said again. "But you know this world is beginning to weary you. You need not be on your own, and you should not be on your own. If you will not go among Elves or Men, then stay among my flock."

The fairy-princes looked at each other. They might fly away, but the Queen of the Geese would only fly after them. "Very well," they said finally. "For now."

So it was that the fairy-princes came to live among the Geese.

****

Some years passed this way.

****

One day the Queen of the Geese returned from a flight on her own to the lake where the flock awaited her. She said: "The one who calls himself Lord of the Sky has asked a favor of me, and I am inclined to grant it."

Many of the Geese gathered to listen, and the fairy-princes did, too.

She said: "The Shadow called Abhorred is gone now, but there are yet souls enslaved. The time has come to free them. The Lord of the Skies and the Lord of the Waters and the Lord of Doom ask that we stand ready to carry these lost souls to safety, as they may not know the way for themselves. They do not ask that we join the fight. We must decide that for ourselves."

"Our mother!" cried the fairy-princes.

"Yes," said the Queen of the Geese. "This is to free your mother, and others like her."

"We wish to fight," said the fairy-princes.

"If you wish to fight, you will have to go among Elves, for it is they who accepted this task," said the Queen.

"We still wish to fight," said the fairy-princes.

"If you wish to fight, you will have to learn to fight, from me or from the Elves, and neither would be easy," said the Queen.

"We still wish to fight," said the fairy-princes.

"If you wish to fight, you will have to be among those who are enslaved like your mother, who bear the marks of that enslavement clearly, and who may strike at your senses like poison, living long in isolation as you have," said the Queen.

"We can learn to endure it," said the fairy-princes. "We must, for our mother's sake. We wish to fight."

"If you wish to fight, you will have to fight in company with two very wicked Gnomes, and some others who never hurt your people but who are still very much Gnomes," said the Queen.

"We are not children anymore, and we are not afraid of them," said the fairy-princes. "If they fight to free our mother, we can fight in their company. We wish to fight."

"If you wish to fight, you must fight in company with your great-uncle and your great-nephews, who will surely know you without feathers and may well know you with," said the Queen.

It took longer for the fairy-princes to answer, this time. But: "We still wish to fight."

[elvencantation]

weird things i don’t know if i can attribute to trauma or adhd or social anxiety:

-super sensitive smell and taste. carbonation hurts my tongue

-sometimes brain decides perfectly good food is bad (usually if i’ve had it too many times or its too bland) and if i make myself eat it i’ll have a stomachache (also sometimes i just don’t have the energy to try new foods)

-subset of this: i am very sad when my tomatoes or nectarines (or anything else that i love to be firm) is soft or otherwise unusually textured. like if i can see they’re wrinkly or lumpy i will not eat them. i am currently staring at some sad tomatoes being like. will my mouth accept them or will they be too soft

-unspoken social rules i don’t know and anxiety about new social situations i have no context for, no list of example responses and what it leads to

-i have two social modes that its very hard to find middle ground between: stranger and person who is safe

-bothers me when people are wrong about something and i am often not able to stop myself from correcting them

-very blunt and bad at subtext, take things way too literally especially when im tired

-let me expound on that. even when i know the question isn’t meant literally, usually i answer it literally first, then as they meant it. i play it off as a joke but it’s hard to resist being totally and completely honest if there isn’t a reason (like info about myself i think people don’t need to know)

-no understanding of peer pressure and why someone would change themselves to fit in (like srsly how do you find genuine friends with common interests and stuff if you’re hiding who you are?)

-annoyed by overly self-deprecating statements. have dealt with this by being overly sarcastic like- OH MY GOD. HOW DARE YOU HAVE HUMAN EMOTIONS AROUND ME, ANOTHER HUMAN YOU TRUST AND WHO CARES ABOUT YOU???

-constant over analysis of myself and how new people perceive me, esp coworkers (since they’re not friends, they don’t choose to spend time with me) UPDATE: i’ve mostly stopped doing this. turns out it was social anxiety and the fact that i had to meet like over fifty new coworkers at once

-i logic my own emotions. i can logic myself out of them sometimes if they’re negatively affecting me. usual example: i can usually set aside my anxiety at something if there's nothing i can do to change it. or more accurately if i've taken a step towards fixing whatever triggered it

-very slow reflexes/processing time

-can’t stand pet hair on my clothes or stuff

⁃very fluid sense of opinion. very influenced by the opinions of those im close to. to the point where a dress i loved, i couldn’t bear to wear because my mom said it looked trashy. to the point where my best friend said she didn’t like a song, so i didn’t really like it (i just listened to it, and its not a bad song. i think i do like it? idk) i think this used to be more severe when i had less self confidence but still happens now sometimes

-secondhand embarrassment can become so unbearable and i have to plug my ears and want to hide. sometimes will literally hide if possible if the situation is happening irl

-dissociating after 2+ hours staring at a screen

-if there’s no background noise i can hear my ears ringing and that’s not fun

-i never get angry. upset sure. anger or rage? i can remember feeling properly angry like. once. when my brother was young and traumatized and did something totally stupid and fucked with my sweet cousin. that’s… pretty much it. but mostly it was my protective instinct and i think i was scared cause i didn’t understand what was happening

-the sheer panic and frustration that happens when someone misunderstands my words consistently. like if you cannot understand what i am saying how do i communicate with you? in the time honored words of dr seuss: "i meant what i said and i said what i meant"

-this might be a mom trauma thing but- when someone's less emotive and quieter around me, they are mad at me. but if they smile at something i said, they are no longer mad at me

-i need a wide information on all the ways a certain social interaction will go before i feel confident participating

-i tend to dominate conversations with my interests and am very bad at asking specific questions. usually i just try to encourage people to do what i do and tell me their interests my association