#Athena: Then why didn’t you ask me to help Penelope as well

[bardiclad]

Odysseus: Athena please keep my boy safe. He can be your warrior. He’s the son of the wisest mortal to ever exist.

Athena: Oh, do you think that highly of yourself?

Odysseus: What? No. I was talking about Penelope

[witless-winion1]

Do you think when Ody comes back, he is so immensely touch starved, like he is constantly walking around the palace fully wrapped around his family, climbing them, just fully around the palace staying as close as possible to them, asking Telecommunications to move back into the room w/ his wife and him so he can hold them both oh so tight so he can believe in his touch that they aren't going to be ripped from his arms, and he's back on a lil raft, alone, maybe even prays to hope like Hermes and Athena come over more often so he can hug them in thanks and like w/ how many friends lost, drags them into a cuddle pile on a surface of some sort (floor? Bed? IDK) so he can trust he isn't alone and those who helped him and those he loves are still there, passing out, and all they can hear is screams (begging for them to not leave please pleASE PLEASE) (I'm coming back for more once I have more ideas, but yeah)

why the hell did this take me so long to answer. Why have I been letting one of my precious few asks rot in the box. I am so sorry my fren, my brain saw the wall of text and activated both the EXCITEMENT and OVERWHELM buttons at the same time. But anyway. Yes.

Odysseus Absolutely clings to Penelope every chance he gets (and she does the same). Remember that comic with his empty throne while he just snuggles up with Penelope on her lap on her throne? I’m a big supporter of that. It’s canon.

He’s a bit more nervous about touching Telemachus, because he doesn’t know his son’s boundaries as well as he knows Penelope’s, but he learns pretty quickly that while is son is mostly unused to constant physical affection, he is very open to it.

In my mind, Telemachus doesn’t sleep with his parents unless it was a bad night for one of them (Tele and Pen suitor trauma, Ody…everything trauma), but they do frequently have cuddle piles in the evening, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they constantly fell asleep like that.

Also now that I’m considering it, I do think Telemachus moved his bedroom to directly down the hall from Penelope when he was a teenager to protect her, just in case. So he stays close even on regular nights. Though he does have to invest in earplugs.

Also, I LOVE the idea of him summoning Hermes and Athena purely to spend time with them.

When he prays to Athena, she’s there in a snap, and is initially rather confused. She’s not very used to physical affection or ‘cuddles’ (a term she does not use), but she finds she enjoys it more in her owl form. Although she refuses to participate in the “physical closeness sessions” when Hermes is there after the first time. She didn’t want him spilling to the rest of Olympus about how, in a sleepier owl form, she started arranging the blankets and pillows of the wedding bed into a nest around the edges of the bed. You know, to keep the chick (Telemachus) from falling off.

Hermes just laughs and dives into the bed, remarking that it’s somehow almost as soft as the ones on Mount Olympus! and playfully sits on Telemachus’ legs and says stuff to get Penelope to whack him with a pillow (or olive tree branch, depending on how bad it was). He also occasionally offers them moly. Odysseus always declines, but Penelope and Telemachus both tried it once out of curiosity.

Penelope then sat down and weaved a tapestry (magnificent enough to make Athena notice and ask about it later, leading to a very fun and intelligent conversation). She then fell asleep (passed out) at the loom when it was done. Odysseus carried her to bed, and she had no recollection of the night before or of weaving the tapestry.

When Telemachus tried moly, he just started mumbling about how he missed Argos. And then he stood up and started rambling about the legends Penelope had told him about Odysseus when he was a young boy. Odysseus nearly cries from both sentimentality and laughter at his son’s clumsy recollections.

But after a while, after some speculation with an old healer in the palace, Odysseus tried microdosing (am I using that word right?) moly in hope of helping with his nightmares, because of every night’s a repeat of “captain”, “but we’ll die”, “this life is amazing,” “waiting,” “get in the water,” “thunder bringer”, etc. He finds his dreams to be more chaotic, but less intense and traumatizing…? Like fever dreams? He decides to only use it on the worst nights, because he’d rather not see Polites and Eurylochus dressed up in winion and lotus-themed drag every night.

[superscrub323]

My Warrior Penelope AU! God Games.

Special thanks to @sarnai4 for beta reading and grammar checking. Also in this Warrior Penelope AU! She follows the same bits and beats as Ody did and has a daughter. [Ares]

Father, King of Kings, never have I asked for favors

Now, I’m begging on your floor

With hopes to save a friendship

With one who’s been banished far from her home

Penelope

[Zeus]

Divine intervention? Of all things you seek?

To undo apprehensions that I placed on that freak?

You are dancing with lightning, for a woman of shame

But if you want to go down hard and fighting

[Zeus, Spoken]

Why not make it a game?

Convince each of them that she should be released

And I’ll release her

[Ares, Spoken]

Who?

[Zeus, Spoken]

Eris, Persephone, Little Eros~, Enyo, Nike AND me…

What do you say?

[Eris, excited]

Sure

[Persephone, Calm]

Very well

[Eros II, nonplused]

Hmm

[Enyo]

*Battle Shout*

[Nike, Spoken]

Right on!

[Ares, cracks knuckles]

Bring it

[Ensemble]

Eris!

[Eris]

I love the terror and chaos sirens bring

But with so many dead at sea

Why should I care about Penelope?

[Ares]

But they chose their targets poor

And they died in blood and gore

Now their corpses will serve to warn

All the rest so that their numbers can restore

[Eris, sighs]

Fine, release her

[Ensemble]

Persephone!

[Persephone]

Life is more precious than gold

Why should I let this woman go

She left her friends dry and cold

[Ares]

Did you forget? They were dumb and bold

They had her betrayed and indisposed

But if you let her return to home

She can still see her husband and save her household

[Persephone, nods]

Fine, release her

[Ensemble]

Little Eros!

[Eros II]

Your little darling ‘hero’ Penelope

Claims to love her daughter, but left her alone without her mom

[Ares]

She was busy fighting!

[Eros II]

More like busy spiting the cyclops

Let her feel the pain that her child feels and rot

[Ares, Spoken]

Wait!

[Ares]

Son, reconsider this…

[Enyo]

Really ‘Enyalius’? Athena’s trick?

[Ares]

Enyo!

[Ensemble]

Enyo, Enyo

[Enyo]

What kind of weak coward, doesn’t show power

While her crew gets devoured?

She didn’t even fight Scylla, or even try to kill her

Hides inside a wooden horse to win her ‘war’

Sacrificed everything that we fought for

Spawned and raised a worthless whore!

[Ares, furious]

Watch your tongue bitch! Her ‘spawn’s’ my friend

And son you know that their relationship can mend

She’ll show you violence! Just set her free

To get back to her palace and make all those wretches bleed

[Eros II and Enyo]

…Fiiine, release her

[Nike, spoken]

Hi Ares!

[Ensemble]

Nike!

[Nike]

So many victories! Triumphs and tales!

If I help release her! Why will she prevail!?

[Ares]

She’s got a warrior’s spirit

[Nike]

Not enough

[Ares]

She’s skilled with words

[Nike]

I know you have better

[Ares]

She’s happily married?

[Nike]

Not my domain~

[Ares, sighs]

She won a 10 year war in a day…

[Nike] 

Release her~

[Ares, Spoken]

I played your game and won dad…now release her.

[Zeus, pissed]

Y-you dare to defy me, you spawn of my shame…

You don’t beat me…YOU DON’T BEAT MY GAMES!

LIGHTING WIELD THIS, USELESS, WORTHLESS

WRETCH UNDERNEATH MY HEEL

AND SPEAR HIM ‘TIL HIS DEATH IS NEAR!

[Zeus then strikes Ares with lightning until he falls to the ground]

[Enyo and Eris]

I-is he dead?

[Instrumental Interlude where Ares struggles to get up as Zeus readies for a second dosage to finish the job only for Athena and Hera to show up and stop Zeus long enough for him to calm down]

[Ares]

Let her go, please

Let her…go…

[Ares collapses once more with thoughts only on Penelope and Telemachus]

[sunshinemoon3341]

I JUST LISTENED TO THE ENTIRE ITHACA SAGA SO SPOILERS AHEAD

The Challenge:

We start off with a Penelope song! And I swear she eats this up!!! She only has 2 songs but she goes crazy with the vocals!!! Her voice is genuinely like lotus, I am just absolutely entranced and just cannot stop listening for even a moment!!!

Penelope saying “husbands old bow” while the suitors say “old husbands bow” is subtle but so meaningful and shows how differently they think of Odysseus!

The “Waiting” callback from the underworld!

————————————————————————-

Hold Them Down:

I’d listened to sneak peaks and snippets from like a year ago but hearing the actual version!!!! Antonious’s voice in this song is insane!

Don’t you dare hurt my baby Telemachus!!

What is their problem with his bones!!! “You’ll have run out of bones to break when you and I are through”(Little Wolf) and “Hold him down while I slowly break his pride, his trust, his faith, and his bones”(Hold Them Down)

The way they talk about Penelope gives me worse shivers than the beginning of Thunder Bringer. But it’s also very telling of what the suitors actually think of Penelope!! They don’t care about her as a person. They just want the crown, and the power.

Bye bye Antonious!!

Overall great villain song. One of, if not, the best I’ve ever heard. I feel conflicted about liking this song because the lyrics are so dark but the song itself is sooooo good!!!

————————————————————————

Odysseus:

Right off the bat, I love the name. The only names in song titles are monsters(Polyphemus, Scylla, Charybdis) so the title being “Odysseus” indicates that he has become some sort of “monster” and that’s a really cool form of symbolism to show it!(you can also hear the monsters names in the background throughout the song)

DO NOT talk about his family like that!

I like the “Where is he?”(Legendary) reverberation. It’s a nice touch!

He stole their weapons!!! This is some Athena level stuff!!

“You don’t think I know my own palace? I built it!” no notes! That line is one of the most perfect lines to ever grace Spotify!

It’s interesting that the suitors asked for mercy. They know as well as Odysseus does that if he didn’t show up who knows what they would have done!! It’s more of an attempted trick than it is an actual apology.

The way the suitor suggests “open arms” and Odysseus doesn’t even let him finish!!

Odysseus shows his cleverness and why he deserves the title “Warrior of the Mind” in this song.(though he is clever in many other songs).

DONT YOU DARE TOUCH TELEMACHUS!!!!!

Again with the bones!!! “I’ll break the kids hands”. Just leave the kids poor bones alone!!!

That voice after Odysseuss says “mercy”!!

This song was brutal, perfect and I get why Athena told Ares the Odysseus “wanna gonna make everybody b|eed”

————————————————————————

I Can’t Help But Wonder:

Heartbreaking!! So cute!!

They both just want to be good enough for each other!! They missed each other soooo much!!

I’ve never cried during any movie, play, book, anything and got almost got me

ATHENA!!!!

The Queen has returned!!!

All the “Warrior of the Mind” callbacks!!

She’s sorry for what’s she did to him! She feels like she turned him into this. This is the the closest thing Athena’s ever gotten to an apology.

He forgives her(or close enough)!! He’s not gonna dwell on all the things he could have done differently, he just wants to see his wife!!

————————————————————————

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again:

Again Penelope ATE THAT UP! I still cannot get over her voice!!

She acknowledges that he’s a bit different but to her he’s still the love of her life!!!

THE WEDDING BED!! Odysseus seems hurt when she asks him to move it. She proved that he’s still the same man!!

The “Waiting” callback again

So cute, so romantic, so beautiful!

————————————————————————

Perfect ending. After everything he sacrificed he was able to get back to the people he did it all for.

10/10 no comments, no suggestions, absolutely nothing!

I’m so excited to see what everyone does next!! I hope Epic grows bigger than I could ever imagine!

I still think the play should have ended with “And that’s my Journessy”

Tysm for reading my little rant

[geneticdriftwood]

You are absolutely correct and there’s so much evidence for it! I’m once again begging people to go read “Penelope and the Case for Early Recognition” by John Vlahos!!! It is my life’s mission to get more people to read this paper.

There’s genuinely so much (long overlooked) evidence that supports Penelope suspecting his identity as soon as he communicated with her via messenger, and reframes their pre-slaughter interactions as confirming identities and subtly coordinating their plots!

It’s a reading that adds so much! It gives Penelope far more (well deserved) credit for her intelligence, and how the way she displays that intelligence is shaped by the limitations of her position as a woman. It shows the romance in their relationship in their matched cleverness — they’re flirting while they’re scheming, teasing each other, both thinking like 12 steps ahead (Telemachus does Not understand their deal but Athena absolutely does and is helping them flirt).

Vlahos also brutally tears apart scholars that base their interpretations on assumptions that underestimate the sophistication and intelligence of Homer’s contemporary audiences, or interpretations that don’t give Penelope enough credit for her intelligence.

He also traces WHY the evidence for this reading gets missed so much back to the work of a particularly influential 12th century scholar, and pretty much outright says the guy didn’t understand Penelope’s character because he was an incel who got no bitches. (That’s an exaggeration, but there are some truly excellent roasts in there).

It’s very readable for an academic paper, I promise!! It will make you love the last 10 books of the Odyssey so much more than you already do! If you read it you have a standing invitation to come talk to me about it in my asks!

JSTOR link:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/41302856

Link for people w/o JSTOR access:

"um actually Penelope didn't recognize Odysseus until after he killed all the suitors" to YOU to me she knew the moment she asked him who he was and he started lying out his ass

[buckleysjareau]

So, for a prompt, how would you feel about the firefam meeting the BAU team?? Bc in my mind, Buck would get along shockingly well with Reid and Garcia while Eddie and Morgan just brood about their favorite ppl not paying attention to them.

omg yes!!! i love this prompt! the beginning is kind of dramatic but i wanted to give a reason for the bau to be there haha :) hope you like it!

The entirety of the one-eighteen had been on edge the entire week. Not only had their calls been emotionally and physically taxing, but Los Angeles seems to have found itself another serial bomber. According to Athena, the LAPD called in the FBI to help investigate after twists and turns and empty leads. 

The reassurance from Athena that they’ve got Behavioral Analysts working hours upon hours with the police department to find the bomber did nothing for Buck’s nerves. It didn’t really do much for the team’s nerves, either. The whole team had been affected by the ladder truck bombing and though they know Freddie is locked away, trauma doesn’t let you think rationally sometimes. When they’re not out on calls, they’re hypervigilant. When they’re out on calls, they’re hypervigilant. At home, they’re either sleeping with one eye open or not at all. 

Buck definitely wasn’t sleeping. He checks every possible location in his apartment where a bomb could be hidden before he leaves for work and as soon as he gets home. He sits awake on the couch when he should be sleeping, waits for a knock or a sound of someone leaving something outside of his door. He hasn’t opened his mail the entire week, just leaves it in his mailbox until his landlord has to check on him to see if he’s alive. He rushes to offer to clean the trucks before anyone else can just so he can check closely for a bomb. 

Which is exactly what he’s doing when two men walk into the station. He hears Bobby greet them but doesn’t pay attention to the rest until his name is called. That makes his heart beat speed up quicker than the speed of a moving bullet. 

When Buck slides himself out from under the truck - he revels in the fact that he can - his eyes widen when he notices the guns holstered on their sides and he’s terrified to find out what the FBI wanted him for.

“You must be Evan. I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI and this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we were wondering if we could ask you a couple of questions?” 

“Buck. Just Buck.” He clears his throat. “Why?”

“Do you remember anything about the night Freddie Costas bombed the truck you were on?”

“Why are you asking? Why do you guys need to know what happened? I’m not the one that was targeted. Can’t you just watch the news report, I know it’s everywhere.” His voice is shaky, he knows he sounds paranoid and panicked but that didn’t matter. Why is the FBI asking him?

“We need more information from those involved with the bombings last ye-” Buck scoffs, cutting Dr. Reid off. 

“Why ask me then? I wasn’t targeted, I wasn’t on that kid’s kill list, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Is Freddie involved in this again somehow?”

“Buck, man, I know it’s gotta be tough to talk about it, this whole station was affected but you were there closest to him when you were trapped. Anything you can remember about that night could help.” Agent Morgan sighs. “Freddie Costas might have had a partner.”

Well fuck.

“Ask Bobby. He was the original target, he has a vendetta against Bobby.” Buck pushes passed the agents, practically shoving Dr. Reid in the process and he can hear the lecture Athena would give about disrespecting law enforcement. 

He winces internally as he thinks about the lecture he’s about to get from his Captain. Great, this is fucking great.

Three days later of restless sleep and constant worrying, Buck gets a call from Bobby on his day off. His heart is in his throat as he answers.

The speed at which his entire body relaxes the second he hears they got her makes Buck dizzy, almost. His knees buckle, falling to his couch in shocked and relieved laughter. He listens as Bobby tells him that Freddie’s partner was a girlfriend who knew her way around making explosives and by Freddie’s orders, she had planned to send one to Bobby and Athena’s again and one to Buck’s for making Freddie’s sentence longer. The fact that he was actually targeted makes him feel a little sick to his stomach but he’s just so full of relief that it’s over again, he laughs.

He feels guilty for the way he’d treated the agents he spoke to. He goes over it in his head as he heads to Bobby’s for dinner after he’d gotten his first full night of sleep in weeks. He shoved a federal agent, cut them off, rolled his eyes. He’d acted like a child and though Bobby didn’t tell him that, he felt like he was being scolded by a father rather than lectured by his captain.

When he arrives at the Grant-Nash’s, Athena greets him at the door and takes the bottle of red wine from his hand with a smile. “Well you look more well rested than I’ve ever seen you, Buckaroo. How’re you doing?”

“Well I’m not crushed under a ladder truck or blown to-” He’s cut off by his own shock at seeing people he definitely didn’t know standing in the Grant-Nash’s living room. His eyes landed on the younger agent he wished he’d had a chance to apologize to not five minutes before. “Uh, hi?”

“Buck, these guys are from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. I’m sure you remember Agent Morgan and Dr. Reid?”

Buck’s face flushes. “Uh, yeah, I do. Nice to see you again, agents. Sorry about the way I acted, truly. Lack of sleep does that to you, I guess.” 

“There’s no need to be, there’s no hard feelings. We understand.” Dr. Reid smiles respectfully. 

“Yeah, no need. The important thing is that we caught her and you can put this behind you again.” Morgan holds out a fist and Buck returns it to fist bump. “You can drop the title, by the way. It’s Derek.”

“Endearing as it is to see you guys bro out, I would like to get this party started.” A woman with dark hair chimes in as she grabs the bottle of wine that Buck brought. “Oh, and he brought the good stuff. Hello, I’m Emily Prentiss and you have good taste.”

Buck snorts as he shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you. Honored to have your approval.”

She’s about to respond before she’s cut off by a squeal. “Bucky!”

His entire face lights up as he turns towards the voice. “Christopher!” 

“Mr Reid pulled a quarter out of my ear just like you can do! You’re both magic!” Buck lets out a startled laugh. “You also both know a lot of facts!”

“Oh, do we have another Boy Genius amongst us right now?” A blonde woman, who seems to embody sunshine, squeals from Buck’s right. “I’m Penelope Garcia, Garcia, PG, girl of your dreams, whatever you want.”

Buck already adores her attitude and vibe.

“Pretty Boy here’s got an IQ of 187, can read 20,000 words per minute, and has an eidetic memory. How about you, man?” Morgan pipes up.

Buck snorts. “I don’t know my IQ, I definitely can’t read that many words per minute, and I never claimed to be a genius. I just like to read, man. Random stuff in history, astrology, stuff Christopher’s into, philosophy-”

Reid’s eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Who’s your favorite philosopher?”

Thus, a conversation is started. Penelope joins in at the mention of Immanuel Kant and Buck is happy Athena invited them over before they left. He’s lost in a conversation and learning new things and more importantly, he’s made new connections for the day. Eddie joins when the conversation turns to Doctor Who, something that Buck never knew Eddie was into. When he leaves to talk to Aaron Hotchner about baseball, Buck watches as he walks away before getting sucked back into another conversation about black holes.

Across the room from him, Eddie sits with Emily, Derek and a woman he now knows as JJ. He’s laughing as Emily teases him about something. What it could be about, Buck doesn’t know, but seeing Eddie laugh makes his heart soar.

“Oh?” Penelope smirks. “Eddie, huh? What’s going on there?”

Buck’s eyes widen at the unexpected question. “What? Nothing.”

Reid, who didn’t even seem to be one for gossip, scoffs. “Do you know what the BAU does? We study human behavior. The entire time Eddie was over here, you leaned into him whenever you talked. You would brush your hand against his and whenever you’d laugh about something, you’d tap his chest. You only looked at him the entire conversation, you were hanging onto every word. The amount of eye contact between the two of you was evident. When JJ came behind us and knocked into Eddie, you put your arm out to protect him. Classic mannerisms of someone in love.”

“But Eddie does that stuff too. It’s not just me.” Buck really thinks he’s making a point.

Penelope laughs. “Oh, honey, you’re exactly right. This isn’t an unrequited love trope here. Our friends are over there probably teasing him for the same thing right now. You don’t need to be a profiler to see he’s in love with you, too.”

Buck looks over to Eddie along with Penelope and Reid. Eddie’s face is red and he’s looking down as JJ talks exasperatedly. Then Eddie is looking up and catches the three of them staring. Buck’s face is on fire as he waves awkwardly. Derek, Emily, and JJ look up as well and smirk at each other.

“I think I hate profilers.” Buck deadpans. 

Across the room, Eddie says the same thing.

[mythologyfolklore]

Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 13

Chapter Thirteen: The Odyssey, Pt. 01

.

Zeus was doing his correspondence.

He was also mentally cursing himself for allowing Ares to go on his world trip.

The war god, who was always written off as stupid and incompetent had been a big help with the mail, but now Zeus was submerging in a sea of prayers, letters from both his own pantheon and from abroad, and complaints. Complaints en masse.

“'You won't be needing me', he said, 'That stuff is really easy', he said!”, Zeus grumbled irritably.

Then there was a knock on the door.

“Enter!”

It was Athena, who came in.

Zeus stood up. “My little Owl-Eye! So good to see you!”

Athena looked around, assessed the situation in one glance and grinned: “Too much paper stuff?”

“Too much paper stuff”, he confirmed.

“If I help you with all of that, will you let Odysseus finally return home?”

Zeus laughed heartily: “I was going to do that anyway! But how could I possibly refuse that offer?”

Athena beamed at him.

Cute.

.

After doing the majority of her father's paper stuff and questioning how Ares with his lack of tact had done this all those millennia, Athena wasted no time in descending down to earth and onto Ithaka.

She had to take a look at the situation there – and to see, if the son of Odysseus was any good.

In the shape of an old friend of Odysseus' she went up to the palace.

Even from the outside, she could hear a lot of noise.

What the Tartaros is going on in there?

As she came into the yard, she saw strangers – probably the suitors of Penelope – playing boardgames to waste their time, sitting on the skins of bovines they had slaughtered and generally living the high life consuming the wealth of another, like parasites.

Soon she was noticed and approached by a young man with chestnut brown hair.

The sharp green eyes, so much like those of Odysseus, gave away who he was.

“Welcome, welcome!”, Telemakhos exclaimed, “Do come in, our respected guest! We shall give you the best we have to offer! And after you have eaten and refreshed yourself, tell us what brings you here.”

Athena could tell, that the young man was miserable at the situation, but he didn't show it.

He was nothing but polite and respectful towards his guest and readied her a place apart from all the insolent suitors.

“I don't assume you want to eat with this noisy crew”, he commented.

“No, I prefer to eat and drink in peace.”

Just a few moments later, the suitors came in, rude and hubristic as they apparently always were.

They were served and then forced a musician to sing for them. The man glared at them hatefully, but began to sing beautifully.

Telemakhos looked pained and murmured to the disguised Athena: “Would you lend me your ear?”

“Of course.”

“I hate this. I hate how these people consume the goods of another without care or compensation, while my mother and I mourn my dear father, who is most likely dead, even though some say that he'll come back one day. But our hope is dwindling from day to day. And we can't even give him an honourable burial, because his bones are probably lying on the bottom of the sea, where the salt water washes and bleaches them. But tell me, stranger, who are you, which family and what home do you come from?”

“My name is Mentor, son of Anchialos and Lord of Taphos. I'm a good friend of your father's and our fathers were friends before us (you can ask Laertes, I heard he lives away from here out of shame). I'm on my way to Temesa to trade precious metals and tissue. I wanted to pay you a visit, because I heard that your father was home. But apparently he's not. But I'm certain he's not dead either; perhaps some brutal and savage tribe is holding him captive and keeping him from coming home. Now I'm not a prophet, but I know for certain, that the Deathless Ones will grant him a safe homecoming soon. He won't stay away from home for much longer, I'm sure. But what about you? Are you really his son? You have his eyes, you do. I may not have seen him in over twenty years, but his face was hardly one I could forget!”

“He is my father”, Telemakhos sighed, “But I wish that rather instead of such an unfortunate man it was one, who could be here with his family, growing old in peace in his own land.”

Athena pitied the young man, but had to keep her act up.

“Now, now. Your family was made for glory and you're no different, I can tell. But tell me, what is this celebration here for? Those men there certainly don't obey the laws of hospitality, uncouth and shamefully as they're acting. Any sensible man would be ashamed.”

Telemakhos frowned – just the way his father always did.

“I'm not going to lie: there must have been a time, when this was an honest household, wealthy and abundant, while its master was still here. But just a few years ago, the entire noble population of this one and the surrounding islands have come to woo my mother and now they're feeding off our property. We can't get rid of them, they won't leave until my mother marries one of them. She loathes the idea, but she can't offend them by refusing outright, so she's putting them off for as long as she can. Meanwhile these parasites are eating my reserves and sooner or later they will surely kill me.”

“Mentor” was indignant. “By the gods, you really need Odysseus back home! Would he come through this door in full armour and make short work of them! Oh, for them to be taken by dark Soteira¹ and rot in the underworld!”

“I wish”, the young man muttered.

But the disguised goddess continued: “But it's all in the hand of the gods, whether he will come home and have bloody revenge. For now, this is my counsel, from an old friend to a young one: summon the council of the island, tell the suitors to leave and your mother, if she chooses to marry, to return to the home of her father, for a dower to be prepared. As for yourself, prepare a good ship with twenty rowers and travel abroad to inquire about the whereabouts of your glorious father. First travel to Pylos and ask Nestor and if he can't help you out, move on to Sparta, to the court of Menélaos – he came home last, as far as I know. Should they give you hope, that your father is still alive, hang in there for another year. Should you hear, that he's dead, make a burial mount for him, with many gifts, as is appropriate. Then eliminate all those insolent suitors. Haven't you heard of how Orestes gained glory by slaying the murderer of his father Agamemnon? You're no longer a child, you're a grown handsome man. Hesitate not. Defend your honour, so that future generations may speak well of you. But I must leave now – surely my crew is getting impatient down at the harbour!”

Telemakhos smiled warmly (that was his mother's smile): “Thank you for your advice, kind old man. But won't you stay just a little longer? You're my guest, how could I possibly let you go without a gift? A precious and pretty one-”

“I'm afraid I really have no time”, she chuckled, “But I will come back and till then chose a really beautiful guest gift! It will be returned with one of equal worth.”

Then she turned into a small owl and flew out of the window, leaving behind a stunned Telemakhos.

.

Meanwhile Hermes had made his way to Ogygia, the island of Kalypso.

The nymph welcomed him and served him nectar and ambrosia and wanted to know, what he was here for.

Hermes, now refreshed, briefed her on the situation: “The King of the Gods has sent me to let you know his will. We happen to know, that you're keeping a poor man, who has been away from home for twenty years. Ten years he spent in the land of the Trojans, three lost at sea and seven years he has been languishing here, pining for home. This is the will of His Majesty: for this mortal to finally get home to his family, to reclaim his home and embrace his wife and son again. That is his lot, not to vegetate here, far away from his loved ones.”

Kalypso blanched and her eyes filled with tears.

“This … this is not fair! Why won't the gods allow, that a goddess may be happy with a mortal? Êôs loved Orion, only for him to die by the hands of golden-throned Artemis! Demeter loved Iasion, only for him to be hit by the Thunderer's lightning bolts! I saved this man, hosted and fed him, offered him immortality, so he would never grow old and die-”

“Êôs and Demeter were loved back”, Hermes countered, “Odysseus isn't happy with you. We see this man weeping on the strand day after da. Not every mortal wants immortality, Kalypso. Immortality is no blessing for a mortal, even though a lot of people think that. Odysseus needs his family and they need him. Let him go. Don't risk the anger of the King of the Gods.”

The nymph choked back a sob, but nodded.

.

Poseidon was returning from a party in Ethiopia, when he spotted something he did not like: his nemesi- er, the mortal he hated, merrily rowing on the surface of his sea on a raft with provisions.

Within seconds he put two and two together: the other gods must have decided for Odysseus to be allowed to go home, while he had been away.

“Well, I'm not letting him off easy”, Poseidon grumbled and unleashed a mighty storm, house-high waves, deadly currents and all.

.

Odysseus clung to his raft, as it was thrown back and forth by the waves and realised, that he was likely going to drown.

“Aw, shit!”, he muttered and held on tighter, because there was no way he would accept a death as inglorious as drowning.

But as he was clinging to his wooden raft, he soon saw the foam on one of the waves shift into the shape of a woman.

That was Leukothea, formerly Ino, the daughter of Kadmos and Harmonia and aunt of Dionysos, who had been deified by Poseidon, many centuries ago.

She pitied the struggling mortal thrown around by the raging sea.

“Poor man” she spoke, “What have you done to provoke the merciless wrath of Poseidon, that he wants to drown you so badly? But fear not, I'm here to help you. Listen: take off your clothes and everything that drags you down, then tie my scarf around your chest – it will save you from drowning. Once you have reached dry land, give it back to me.”

She handed him a silken scarf and dived back into the waves.

Odysseus frowned. Why would I need this, when I have a raft?

Right in that moment, said raft was torn apart by a particularly huge wave.

Never mind.

He did as the marine goddess had told him and took to swimming.

In the meantime Poseidon retired to his crystal palace on the bottom of the sea.

Odysseus spent the next two days fighting against the raging sea, trying to finally reach the shore.

All the while, Athena was with him, never once taking her protection away.

She stilled the winds and gave him the strength to swim long enough to reach the shore of the land of the Phaiakoi.

The long-suffering hero finally found a piece of strand, crawled onto the shore and fainted.

When he came to himself, he took off the anti-drowning-scarf and threw it back into the sea, back to its owner.

Then he turned his back onto the water, stumbled further inland and crawled under a bush.

Exhausted, hurting everywhere and too tired to do anything, he fell into a healing, restful slumber.

.

Athena meanwhile entered the sleep of Nausikaa, the princess of this land, disguised as one of her friends. She inspired her to go out in the morning to do her laundry with her maids and maybe play at ball and Nausikaa woke up, resolved to do just that.

.

Odysseus woke up to women's screaming.

He crawled out from under this bush, covered his private parts with a leafy branch and went to investigate.

Soon he came across a group of ladies, apparently looking for something.

When they saw him, they screamed and fled, all except for one.

She didn't seem to be afraid at all.

And perhaps she could help him.

So the former hero cleared his throat and with many a flattery asked her for help.

The lady introduced herself as princess Nausikaa of the Phaiakoi and gave him some of her father's clothes she and her maids had been washing earlier.

Once washed and finally dressed, he could feel a divine presence cast a spell on him.

When he stepped back in front of Nausikaa, he guessed that Athena had made him look younger and more stately than he actually was, because the princess proclaimed her hope to have a bridegroom as regal and handsome as himself.

Then she pointed him a way to the city, while she left for some place else.

One of her maids guided him and instructed him on how he should come to the king and queen to plead for hospitality.

He did as told and they received him kindly.

.

Next morning, king Alkinoos called an assembly of the local nobility, introduced them to this stranger and informed him of his request.

They marvelled at the newcomer, whom Athena had given godlike beauty, so that he would find approval and be liked by the people here.

“This stranger – I don't know who he is – has been stranded here and beseeches me for help to return to his homeland”, Alkinoos explained. “No supplicant has ever asked us in vain for safe transport. So let's ready a ship and rowers and let him go where he wishes to, as soon as possible. But first we should host him according to the laws of hospitality. Let a great feast be prepared and summon our best musician.”

This was done and not much later, the entire nobility was gathered in his hall to feast.

Demodokon, the blind singer, entertained them with his beautiful music and sung of the glory of the Achaeans in the Trojan War.

The musical reminder of the events made Odysseus upset and he pulled the cloak he was wearing over his face, so no one saw him cry.

.

Next was a small tournament.

The young Phaiakoi competed in all kinds of sports.

Odysseus was feeling too gloomy to participate in discus throwing, but when one of the young men provoked him and questioned his masculinity, he got so angry that he grabbed the biggest, heaviest discus at hand and threw it much farther than all the others.

“As you can see”, he turned to the stunned Phaiakoi, “I'm more than adept in the art of war and battle. If any of you wants to challenge me in another discipline, I'm more than confident, that I can best them. Except when it comes to running, as my leg muscles are out of shape.”

Alkinoos quickly pacified his guest and called to music and dance.

Odysseus marvelled at the dancing skills of the Phaiakoi, at the gracefulness of their movements and how their feet practically flew across the dance floor.

The singer Demodokon sang about the love of Ares and Aphrodite and of how her then husband Hephaistos had caught them in his golden net.

A pair of dancers performed a rhythmic ball play and everyone clapped along to the beat.

Odysseus turned to Alkinoos: “You praised your people as the best of dancers and it's really true! The sight astonishes me.”

That pleased the king and he ordered for rich guest presents to be given to the flatterer.

The man, who had provoked Odysseus earlier, gave him a reconciliatory gift (an iron sword² with a silver handle and ivory sheath) and an apology, which the older man gladly accepted and wished him, that he would never regret having given his sword away.

Evening came and after a nice bath Odysseus went to join another banquet, which was about to take place.

On the way he met Nausikaa and they bid each other farewell, as only men were allowed at the Symposion.³

As all men sat down to eat, Odysseus cut off a good piece of his meat and offered it to the grateful singer as a token of appreciation.

Demodokon continued his earlier song about the heroic deeds of the Achaeans in the Trojan War. Odysseus requested: “You sing so beautifully and accurately of those events! But now sing of the wooden horse! Sing of the thing that Epeios built with Athena's aid and which was brought to Troy, filled by Odysseus with warriors to raze Troy to the ground! If you can do that, I would be forever grateful!”

The singer did so and everyone was captivated.

But the memory made the war veteran weep bitterly.

When Alkinoos saw this, he ordered Demodokon to stop and asked Odysseus what the matter was.

“Also”, he added, “I still don't know who you are. What's your name, your family and the name of your home? Were you there in Troas or did you lose someone dear to you in this terrible war? A family member, a comrade or a friend?”

The other man wiped his tears away and stood up.

“I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, who beguiles men with cunning and beautiful words, whose fame reaches to the skies. I come from the bountiful island of Ithaka and I couldn't possibly think of a sweeter sight than my own home.”

The whole room was silent, as everyone stared at him.

.

---

.

1) Soteira: "Saviour", an epithet to many goddesses. In this case a euphemistic epithet of Persephone. 2) The Trojan War is supposed to have taken place in about the 13th or 12th century BC, which was still in the bronze age. So an iron weapon was something special. Iron was hard to forge, because it requires a higher temperature than copper and tin (the components of bronze), but it's also tougher than bronze. Therefore it was in high demand and it would stay that way, during the iron age and beyond. But because it was harder to work with and for other reasons, it was a lot more expensive than bronze. 3) The Symposion (a banquet with music, dance and philosophical discussions) was for men only. Ancient Greek misogyny, everyone. -_-

[hunterofartemis7]

Calypso sat sadly on the beach of her island. She missed her “lover” Odysseus. Why did the gods have to take him away!?

“Calypos..”

Calypso turned to the voice behind. She was rather surprised to see a scarred goddess of wisdom standing behind her. Her surprise quickly turned to annoyance. “Go away, Athena.” Calypso told her, turning back to face the ocean.

“No,” Athena says, “we need to talk.”

“Well I don’t want to talk to you so go away!” Calypso yells at her. Athena didn’t listen and walked up, taking a seat on the sand beside her. Calypos pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “Are you happy now?”

The sudden question kinda caught Athena off guard, “pardon?”

“Odysseus went back to his “wife” and never has to see me again. In the 7 years he was on my island he never called for me, but the second he got the chance he calls for you! He called for you and the next day Hermes tells me I have to let the love of my life go so I ask again, are you happy now!?” Calypso yelled at Athena, tears starting to flow down her face.

Athena doesn’t say anything, just looks at the crying goddess with pity. Calypso turned away from her, wiping the tears off her face.

“I am, but not the reason you think.”

Calypso looked back at Athena, who was watching the waves come up to the shore. “What?” She asked.

Athena answered again. “You asked if I was happy now, I am, but not because he’s off and you’re alone.”

Calypso was confused, but mostly still upset. “I don’t understand.”

“Odysseus is back where he needs to be, with the people who really loved him—“

“I DID LOVE HIM!!” Calypso cut her off, getting up and yelling in Athena’s face. Though she was unfazed. “You loved not being alone anymore. You loved the idea of finally having someone here all to yourself and didn’t think about how he might feel.”

“Shut up..!”

“Calypso I don’t doubt that you loved him, but not the way you really think you did—“

“I SAID SHUT UP!!” Calypso yelled furiously, using her magic to entangle Athena in thorny veins. “YOU DONT KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!! YOU NEVER FELT IT!! I DID!!”

Athena was unfazed by this, she knew calypso probably did love him and wanted him, but it was more she didn’t want to be alone anymore. “You’re right, I’ve never experienced romantic love, but I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it between Odysseus and Penelope and that wasn’t what you and Odysseus had.” Athena snapped and the vines disappeared around her. She brushes the sand off her clothes completely unbothered by Calypos attempted to intimidate her.

“Why are you doing this!? Why are you telling me any of this!?” Calypso yelled again.

“Because I want to help actually learn how to have a real connection with someone and not a forced one.”

Calypso was ready to strangle Athena, or throw her off her island but her last comment made her curious. “…why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you want to help me so bad? I figured you of all people would hate me.”

“Because I’m trying to make the world a kinder place, what’s a better place to start than here?” Athena answered. “Plus…I was willing to give up everything to help Odysseus, who’s to say i can’t help you too.”

Calypso just stared at her before walking up to the goddess. Athena was bracing herself, thinking Calypso was going to punch her or something, but she didn’t. Well, she was going to, but stoped last minute and started crying, hugging Athena and burying her head into her chest. Athena was a bit taken aback by this, though wasn’t entirely surprised and just hugged the poor goddess, stroking her hair and letting her cry.

“I…I hate being alone..!” Calypso sobbed.

“I know” Athena coed, “I know.”

After calming down, calypso agreed to let Athena teach her about actual having an emotional connection with someone and how not to force anyone to do things they don’t want to. They had to get Hermes involved cause while Athena was getting better at her own emotional connection, there were some aspects she still needed work on. Athena considered introducing Telemachus and Calypso, or having Calypso apologize to Odysseus, but figured it was better to keep everyone apart.

Someone better at character writing than me please write a fic about Athena going to ogygia post Epic to rehabilitate calypso and teach her how to make actual genuine connections for once (she’s gonna be to calypso who Telemachus was to her) (spreading her new warrior of the mind agenda of making the world a kinder place)

[fyeahwonderbat]

Can you do a Mother’s day story, please?

“Good evening, son.” Bruce changed the tone of his greeting without any notice, drawing his inspiration from Alex’s uncertain appearance at the manor. He stood arms cross, scowl heavy, feet planted wide apart as he witnessed the disheveled attempt of his eldest son (with his wife) to sneak into the west wing hallway undetected after failing to arrive at the time he committed to.

The surprise was visible behind the wavy strands of sandy blond hair that covered his face, proving that Alex was no sleuth like his father was. “Oh, uh… hiii, daaad.” He greeted him like he was a child caught stealing some ice cream from the kitchen, rather than a grown man crawling in through the window of a well lit hallway of a house as guarded by security cameras as Wayne Manor was. It wasn’t the foolishness that irritated him, oh no.

It was that cheeky smile that sent him into the role of the authoritarian parent that he reveled in.

“It’s not me you should be talking to. It’s your mother.” scolded Bruce.

“Well, if she was the one who found me like this, I would have said hi to her too.” Alex said, knowing full well that he was getting on his father’s last nerve. He witnessed the grown man before him fumble with his grip on the window frame, rocking back and forth while he tried to calculate his next move, only to fall forward. The noise his body made when it hit the hardwood was so heavy, Bruce hoped that it hurt him, even a little bit. But he knew that the only man in the world born with Amazonian strength would have felt nothing more than a mere tap on his side when he landed.

Disappointment written on his face, Bruce decided to try guilting his son in order to draw out some sign of remorse from his otherwise cheery disposition, “Penelope arrived at noon, Silas came by for dinner and Iris made sure to call to let us know that she’d only be able to make dessert, but is now sleeping in her old room so she can have breakfast with us in the morning.”

“Wow, what a… happy family we have here.” Alex chuckled, clearly intending for his words to be taken with a grain of salt. Unable to find a single reason to frown, he managed to keep his grin in tact while he rose up off of the floor and fixed up his outfit. As per usual, he was wearing his tattered jeans and a stained graphic t-shirt for a band or a show that Bruce had never heard of before. His sneakers were worn, but they couldn’t compare to that old rucksack that he got for his eighteenth birthday. The one his mother had selected, the one he had paid for, the one they had filled with the necessities he’d need to travel abroad.

That was three years ago.

“You haven’t changed at all, Alex,” Bruce complained. “I thought the Peace Corps would have helped fine tune this willy nilly attitude of yours.”

“Did… Did Bruce Wayne just say ‘willy nilly’?” Alex asked, sounding absolutely thrilled to have been present at that very moment to witness such a thing.

The way his jaw clamped down in response to his son’s teasing was nothing new and neither was the irritation that usually caused him to respond to Alex in such a way. “I’m very tired,” he admitted for the sake of defending himself. Then, he turned away from the source of his frustration and began to stomp his way down the hall. “And so is Diana. You know how busy we are, and how much today means to her.”

“Of course I do, because she means the world to me.” Alex admitted freely as he caught up to Bruce. He fixed the strap of his rucksack on his shoulder and carelessly followed his father without any clue as to where he was leading him to.

Dissatisfied with his actions in comparison to his words, Bruce felt it was fair to interrogate him then and there. “Then where were you? Did your transcommunicator break?” “Nooo,” Alex answered slowly. “The… connection doesn’t reach where I went.”

Bruce didn’t need to hear another word. He knew exactly what that meant and the anger he felt - the brand of fury that he felt belonged specifically to his half-Amazonian son - threatened to choke the words he had rising up the back of his throat. “Themyscira!?”

Though he stopped walking, Alex did not. At the very least, he took two more paces forward than his father before he agreed to their standstill and stopped himself from reaching the staircase. His broad shoulders rose up to meet the curly mop of hair on his head before falling back dowards, indicating a rather heavy sigh escaped him. Bruce saw a glimpse of awareness in that single action but it wasn’t enough to soothe his aggression. It wasn’t a secret between him and his sons that he did not want them attempting to visit the isle of the Amazons, but there was one son in particular who could never seem to listen.

(One of his sons with his wife, that is.)

“I had my reasons, dad.” Alex implied that he had a proper excuse all without providing one.

It mattered not to Bruce. “And I have mine whenever we have this conversation! Your grandmother never seen me as her family, so why would she accept you? You know what she did to your mother - why even she isn’t allowed back there, after all she’s done to save the world time and time again. Do you hear anything I say to you!?”

“Bruce?” Came a gentle call from behind one of the many doors in the west wing.

“Dammit.” Bruce cursed, knowing that their argument was about to be cut short.

“Dad,” Alex whispered. “Just let me explain-”

“If you wanted to tell me anything, you would have done so before-”

And that was the end of their dispute, for the time being, as the bedroom door of the master suite swung open and a robbed Diana came out into the hall. “What on Earth is all this stomping and yelling about--Oh! Alexandros!?”

“Hi, mama.” Alex greeted her so genuinely, his smile could be heard in his words.

Bruce merely stepped aside and did his best to refrain from rolling his eyes while the two of them hugged. It had been almost a year since Diana had last seen Alex in person, and she always complained that video calls were never enough. The two of them had such a precious bond that was visible to someone as cold hearted as the Batman, and given that it was Mother’s Day, he didn’t want to let his ‘sourness’ ruin the mood, as his ‘sweet’ wife referred to it as.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” Diana sounded rather emotional as she stroked Alex’s messy hair. Bruce watched her look over her ‘little warrior’ as if he had just come inside from a scuffle in a sandbox; no matter how old he got, she always treated her firstborn boy like he was much more fragile than he actually was. He had assumed it was because she had grown up believing that men were not as strong as the Amazons of Themyscira, but her relationship with Silas was nothing like what it was with Alex. She saw something in him that needed to be protected.

Which would most likely explain why Bruce was always tougher with him.

“Of course I’m here!” Alex exclaimed. He moved back just enough so he could see his mother, but not so much that he’d have to let go of her waist.

Diana, having felt the separation more than he did, immediately calmed herself so that she could cock her eyebrow at that beaming expression of his. Without hesitation, she reminded him, “Where was this attitude for my birthday then? Or any of our family holidays? Or your birthday, for that matter?”

When Bruce thought that Alex might buckle, he instead chuckled at the barrage of questions being flung at him. “There was something special about today, that no other day could compare to!” He cheered.

“Oh please,” Diana hummed low, warning of his disbelief. “Do explain.”

Intrigued, Bruce arched a brow now too. He eyed that massive backpack that his son took with him all over the world and wondered what could possibly be inside of it. Did he bring his mother a shield from her homeland? Maybe a book on the history she’d missed out on while having been exiled? Something that she could only get on the island of Themyscira?

To his surprise, Alex didn’t go anywhere near his bag. He simply reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a piece of paper. It looked crumpled and worn from the trek it must have went on to get all the way to Gotham City, much like his relationship with his own son.

“What’s this?” Diana wondered aloud, clearly unaware of the backstory behind her gift.

Softly, all Alex had to say was, “Just open it, mama.”

Forever the curious type, Diana didn’t need to be told twice to throw open the creased halves of the letter and scour the page with her wide-eyed gaze. Once the letter was in her hands, Bruce was incredibly nervous, somewhat wishing he’d had the chance to look over the contents of the letter from her home if only to make sure that it wouldn’t cause her any pain. He could hope all he wanted that Hippolyta would say something kind to her daughter for the first time in centuries, but from his experience with her, the chance of something amicable being written in that letter was highly unlikely.

“Alexandros… What…?” Diana was teary-eyed once again, only now she was also shaking. Bruce took a step forward, ready to pounce if his wife needed his support.

Never without a look of pure joy on his face, Alex nodded at his mother. “It’s only an offer to the Reform Island, but it’s a start.”

“What? What is?” Bruce demanded to know.

Diana, on the other hand, collapsed against her son, unable to speak as she held onto him for dear life. That grip looked like it channeled all of her strength, but Alex could take it, and he did so happily. Over his mother’s shoulder, he looked to Bruce and finally revealed what the surprise gift entailed, “After I performed a few trials for the gods amusement, they guaranteed that mama could barter for an end to her exile on Themyscira. She only has to pray to Athena and a date will be set.”

“You performed trials for the Olympian gods?” Bruce, tackling each point of the reveal at a time, started with the most startling fact in his eyes: his son could have fought Ares or Zeus alone!?

Alex laughed off the concern, “Nothing as horrible as what Hercules went through, so I think it’s safe to say that they like me more than him.”

“You’re amazing, my darling.” Was all Diana could manage to say while battling with her current state of emotion. She refused to leave the crook of Alex’s neck, burying her head there to hide her tears should they fall.

Seeing the exchange of pure emotion between his wife and his son made Bruce reel, and he quickly realized that his focus had been wrong at first. No matter the circumstances, Alex had done something that not even Diana herself had achieved. He had done something that Bruce had never figured out how to do: he forged an opportunity for his mother to see her mother again, and even presented to her on Mother’s Day. It wasn’t a holiday that could have dated back to ancient times, but the title of the day managed to elevate the gift giving that Alex did.

His overly cheery, eternally optimistic, always smiling from ear to ear son, Alexandros Wayne.

And all of that sunny disposition was a testament to his wife, Diana Prince-Wayne.

“I’ll see you two later.” Bruce mumbled to the two of them as he decide to take his leave. He patted Diana’s shoulder with the most affection he could provide her with in that moment, while also staring down Alex with a firmness in his eyes. It wasn’t as cruel or harsh as it was when he fell through the window. No, now, he glanced at his only Amazonian son with a type of pride that was earned by him. He could grill him further in the morning.

Tonight, he was Diana’s darling son and they deserved their time together.

He left them alone, wandering into the master bedroom and closing the door softly behind him. Bruce stood there in awe of what he had truly just learned, unable to fathom what it was Alex had done to make the gods bend to his will. An achievement that even his parents couldn’t obtain now belonged to him, and yet, he saw what Alex had done as a testament to his parents. In all honesty, it belonged entirely to Diana. Through an accomplishment of his son, he was once again - for the umpteenth time over the course of their tumultuous relationship - he couldn’t help but marvel at the woman who had agreed to be his wife, who agreed to be the mother of his children.

He was so glad that Alex came home, because Diana truly did deserve the most joyous Mother’s Day, and he gave that to her. ((Belated by a few days, but I hope you all enjoy! I figured I should use my WonderBat kids at some point, and this seemed like a really cute way to do so. I hope you like Alex, and this cute little drabble! ~ Maiden))

[witchwaymagazine-blog]

Beyond Dead Names

A TRANS PERSPECTIVE ON SAMHAIN

BY EVELYN DESHANE - Featured in the October 2017 issue of Witch Way Magazine

When I worked at a thrift store, it was widely acknowledged that Halloween was our busiest time. Most stores braced for the Christmas rush while their staff is made sick with Christmas songs--but our end-of-year blowout was always during the fall. From August until November, we had multiple meetings devoted to Halloween themes and store deals, along with direct training on how to find the best costume for people in our racks of used clothing. Basically, I lived in a witchy paradise filled with black-and-orange decorations, skeletons and cats on every surface, and Halloween music for three months. Our store was also filled with antique pagan supplies that the staff had built up over the summer and released all at once during the spooky season.

Halloween season at a thrift store also meant a lot of cross-dressing. One of my managers repeatedly told a story of a six foot two jock type of guy coming into the store, utterly timid, and asking for help finding a costume. After she'd exhausted many regular options using the store clothing like lumberjack or construction worker, he asked if she could help him dress as a woman. My manager did and, as she boasted, "he was as beautiful as he was pleased." To the manager and the rest of the staff, this was an amusing anecdote. To me, though, this story was about far more than a costume. It was something I recognized in my queer group of friends as the first stages of coming out--but coming out in as safe as way as possible.

In Leslie Feinberg's historical survey of cross-dressing and trans identity called Gender Warriors, Feinberg remembers a time when zie (preferred pronoun) was a child and laws were still in place that required people to wear at least three pieces of clothing that corresponded to their birth gender. There would regularly be raids at gay bars to ensure this law was in place, forcing many queer people to disrobe in front of officers in order to verify compliance. All arrests and raids ceased on Halloween, though, since people were supposed to dress up. To be something you weren't--be it a lumberjack or construction worker or a ghost--was precisely the point. For Feinberg and many other queer people, Halloween was actually the time where you could be who you always were--but without the fear of repercussion.

Even though these laws are not on the books anymore, there are still a dozen bathroom policies and other prejudices that have come to light in recent years against trans and other gender nonconforming people. Coming out as trans or nonbinary is still quite difficult--so Halloween still provides a safe haven for so many queer people like it once did. For a couple weeks out of the year--or even a couple months--gender experimentation can occur with little or no judgement. Gender transition itself never happens overnight (no matter what Hollywood says and shows in movies), and these autumn months can mark the first stages of that transition since it poses less risk overall.

For those who are trans/nonbinary and Pagan, autumn can really start to feel like a magical season. The Celtic New Year is already established as Samhain, and much like the typical Western New Year, I know a lot of Pagans who have set resolutions or set the day aside to account for what worked and what did not in the past twelve months. Some have started transition on this date, drawing on the energy of the season and the time spent mourning lost lives. Most Pagans are familiar with the practice of choosing a magical name, but there is also name-changing in some trans people's lives as well, in order to find a better moniker suited to their gendered selves. When that change has happened, the birth name has also been called a "dead name" referring to the dead life and gender associated with it. While I understand that "dead name" as a term is supposed to sound harsh and heavy in order to disrupt the associations that cisgender people have to it, the term itself has always left me feeling rather haunted. When I changed my name, I wanted to run as fast as I could from my old name--but I knew I could not run away from my old life. I also didn't want to run away from my old life. Even if I acknowledged that my old name was old and I didn't want to be associated with it anymore, I gathered experiences and memories with that name, and to discard it so callously meant that I had to cut off people. And like the magical cutting of cords, it hurt.

There are so many celebrations that happen in the trans community surrounding the new name (I know of people who host birthday parties and frame new birth certificates), but there often nothing done around the discarding of the old name. Even in traditional wedding and handfasting ceremonies, there are rituals embedded which signal the surname change as the migration to the new family. So why wouldn't there be one for those who have changed first names? It has always seemed like a glaring omission, one which I've always wanted to rectify. As someone who has changed their name, and identify with queer Paganism, Samhain is the perfect time to embrace the transition of one gender to another, but to also mourn and respect the past that has come from it. To be a more holistic person, I think you have to recognize what has come before in order to celebrate the future.

So that was exactly what I did. On Halloween 2016, I turned myself towards my past and came up with my own way of reconciling these names. The first time I'd used the name "Evelyn" was for a poem publication--so for me, the way to make peace with the older parts of myself was to write and publish another poem which expressly talked about all the things I'd felt about my socalled "dead name." The poem was called "teenage ghosts" and was published in the June 2017 issue of Eternal Haunted Summer, providing a nice ending to the ritual itself. The poem declared my past selves, but it also integrated whatever ghosts they may have been keeping alive. And by publishing it, it meant I wasn't hiding anymore. The bookending of these experiences was my form of neo-pagan chaos magic--but it does not need to be exactly like this, as long as the past itself is acknowledged.

For me, Samhain also seems like the perfect time to recognize and honour the deities who seem at least a little trans or queer. In general, trans people tend to be conflated with mythological creatures--think of how often someone references a Phoenix or the gender swapping Tiersias in conversations about trans people--and this can lead to some problems. It some instances, by conflating trans identity with mythology, it implies that trans people aren't real. Trans activist Casey Plett has written about this issue for The Walrus, and Laine Mardollsdottir has a fantastic article on Patheos.com discussing people's assumptions about her Pagan practice and the deities she must adore because she's trans. Being trans or nonbinary is more than just gender itself at the end of the day, and the deities who represent some aspects of trans life and experience can be wide and varied.

For instance, I've always been drawn to the story of The Odyssey, since both Penelope and Odysseus represent two huge parts of the gender transition narrative: patience and travel. Many of my trans friends have spent months waiting for a referral, and once they obtain it, travelling hours and hours from their home in order to obtain what they need from a doctor--a doctor who, in some instances, can feel like Circe herself.

In Jennifer Joshua Esposito's poems, she claims that the moon itself is trans--which makes me think of even more potentials for esbat rituals and the way in which we conceive of lunar femininity. Since so many trans people need hormones from outside sources, they are often in a doctor's office or pharmacy at least once a month; the changes that come from these hormones are just as cyclical and transitory as the moon. Not to mention how often I've heard people call trans-ness itself just a 'phase.' Jennifer's poem seems to embrace that idea, and reclaiming the 'phase' in an empowering way, much like queer people reclaimed Halloween.

Finally, I also see Athena as a trans figure, since she was not born in a typical fashion, but sprung from a forehead. Athena reminds me of that six-foot-two person who came in looking for a Halloween costume a couple years ago. That customer was strong and steadfast in what they wanted, and never left until they got it. Sometimes on Halloween I wonder what has happened to them, and if they were finally able to spring from another's forehead and truly become who they wanted to be.

Halloween and Samhain holds so much potential for change and reconciliation of the past with the future. I can only hope that everyone finds what and who they want on Halloween night.