#Epic Drabble

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Hi mate, how’ve you been? I was wondering if I could request a little mandrake x femme reader drabble, if you don’t mind? I’ve been scrolling through the epic tag aimlessly over the weekend cuz I was on vacation and remembered that you had done some requests yourself! Oh and thx sm for your support with my own stuff! <3

Wounds| Mandrake

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Reader: Female Reader| Mandrake x reader

Notes: Sorry for the lack of fics. I've been working so much, tbh It's stupid...

Warnings: mentions of wounds

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"You can't come in here- The king!-!" A gaurd shouted.

"Move! Or you'll never have kids again!" Y/n ordeded dress hiked up in her hands and on a tyrant.

He was quick to move Y/n moving forward. The one guard was luckily he was given mercy by her.

"Mandrake!" She shouted, causing the forest to flinch.

"Keep her out of here." Mandrake ordered his gaurds lazily, slumped over in his throne: beaten, cuts and brusies freshly fixed up.

The gaurds looked at each other and then separated themselves to give Y/n a pathway.

"You're dead!" Y/n contuined to rage.

Walking past the two gaurds. He only sighed, hand covering his face, his elbow supporting his upper body weight.

"What is your problem!? Are you serious!?" Y/n shouted.

"Please give me some peace and quiet!" He ordeded.

A big mistake; she was already mad, now she was furious.

"Peace and Quiet!? You want peace and quiet!?" Y/n argued, her nostrils flaring in anger: "I tried to give you peace and quiet! The whole Kingdom! But you and that Leafman idiot commander can't keep your hands off each other!"

"Do not word it that way-"

"What?! Honesty tick you off now?!" Y/n snapped. He glanced at her, and she started her pacing: "I'll have to meet with Queen Tara again! You and Ronin need to either back off or get married to one another! I already solved the border issue and now!-"

Her voice raged on a she turned to look at him, her voice falling to silence. Mandrake looked beat up, badly beat up. For only a moment she argued with herself; "I..." he started, "know you have been working hard, for peace...thank you,"

Y/n sighed, walking her way over; up the small steps to his throne, she kneeled at the base of his throen, he was slumped over making it easier for her to get a better look at his face, he hiding brusies under the hand which covered his face.

"Let me see." She spoke softly.

"I'm fine-"

Mandrake paused as she pushed his hand away softly, she frowning at the bruise forming under his eye.

"Have you..." Y/n started, reaching out to touch his face; his flinching, "so you haven't..."

Y/n looked back and called for a gaurd: "Get my medical equipment please, it's in my room," She told.

"Yes, my Queen." He responded and rushed off to do as ordered.

She turned around back to him as she cupped his cheek: he leaned into it: "What happened," y/n asked softly.

"It seems you know the answer to that." Mandrake answered. He sounded just as exhausted as he looked.

"My queen."

Y/n turned her head a gaurd there with her bag, "Thank you." She spoke taking it from him.

Y/n was quick to open the bag and look through her bottles of Tonics. She picking one out.

"What does that have in it?"

"Root-"

"Pine root?"

"Mhm-"

"No."

"I know it stings but it heals the best-"

Y/n put some on some cotton she had in another glass, and lifted her hand up to clean his wounds. Yet he blocked her.

"Mandrake-"

"No-"

"It's going to get infected if I don't clean it." Y/n argued.

"It stings-"

"Maybe you shouldn't of gone into a fight then."

He winced as she blotted his face: he hissing as she cleaned his wounds.

"I know. Im sorry." Y/n answered, quick to finish and pull away: "Where else?"

"Surely you don't think I'm going to undress for you in front of my own men." He teased; his eyes switching sides to look her way.

"If I asked?" She asked; sat all pretty on the backs of her feet, looking at him with the wish only to help.

"no." Mandrake answered.

"Damn it." Y/n cursed.

"You know that doesn't work on me," Was his response, she getting her bag back together, closing it up as she stood.

"That's not what you said a night ago." She snarked back, a smile across her face.

The guards standing attention at the entry way tried to hold it together.

"Damn sounds like Im getting more action than the boss?" A third grumbled to her coulleges.

"What was that!?" Mandrake shouted.

"Nothing, sir!" They were quick to answer.

"Be nice to the kids." Y/n protested, holding her hand out, "come on love, lets go and finsih patching you up."

[kingbyx]

Saw some Epic warrior!Penelope aus where our favorite girl ends up at war in Odys place and had to throw my own au in there

When the ships of Ithaca are called to war, Odysseus by some horrible coincidence (or perhaps something more?) falls terribly sick. Physicians are certain he’ll pull through, he’s young, he’s healthy, he’s blessed by gods, they say, he has a newborn son to raise, and kingdom to protect, he has so much to live for. They say he will be better, but they cannot say when.

It has been weeks, and Agamemnon demands his presence. They don’t want to leave without the clever, Athena blessed king of Ithaca.

Penelope, still weak from childbirth, grieving for a husband she hasn’t yet lost, dresses in her loves clothes and sails off to war with 600 men. Eurylochus and Polites, Odysseus’s best friend and brother in law, are the only ones to notice.

Penelope had long trained with Odysseus, he believed she needed to be able to fight as well as he could, if not better, to assure she was safe. “I’ll always protect you” he always said “but if that terrible time comes that I am unable, I need you to be able to protect yourself as I would.” She had laughed and said she would kill any who dare attack her or her love.

Now she put those skills to use, ten years of war, pretending to be Odysseus.

Of course, her own crew realized soon enough. Her disguise did not hold up in such close quarters. With the support of her closest allies, they eventually (though some reluctantly) turned to her aid. Ensuring that, for all the years they fought Troy, she was never found out.

Athena guided her hand, she would joke to her crew after every battle she won, but the owl at the edge of her vision was no illusion.

Now, after her Trojan Horse succeeded, she sails towards home, dreading what she will find despite her joy at the idea of seeing her love again

Back in Ithaca, Penelope has no need to worry for her husbands loyalty.

Raising his son in a kingdom missing all its best soldiers, oddyseus worries constantly for his wife. Every day, hundreds of men and women invade his castle, and he cannot get them to leave. The last dregs of illness still haunt his body, and he cannot fight them all.

They ask him to marry them, to marry their daughters (most of which are far, far too young. Many no older than Telemachus)

He wants only to sail off, build a ship of whatever materials they have left and run away with his son to find his mother. He cannot, his kingdom still needs a ruler.

He misses Penelope, Polites, Eurylochus, Elopenor, Perimedes. Even Athena seems to have disappeared.

[xfilesinamajor]

Trapped

Same isn’t all that far from Ithaca. Close enough that on a clear day, if she sits on the roof of the palace and squints really hard, she can see a dark smudge on the horizon that she knows is home.

It’s still “home” in her mind, even after twelve years of life on a different island, in a different palace, with a different family. That’s probably why Same doesn’t feel like home, even though Euenus and Oitane have made every effort to include her and make her feel welcome in their home. It’s still their home. Euenus still rules Same, and will continue to do so until Eurylochus returns or Leotychides grows to manhood. And Ctimene—she’s trapped in the middle, raising the future king of this place that isn’t her home.

If the war had never come—if Eurylochus hadn’t left so soon after the wedding—if the war hadn’t been so far—if it hadn’t gone on for so painfully long—then things would be different. Her husband would have been her with her to form memories in this palace, to hold her in the cold, unfamiliar bed, to stand by her and help her raise their son. He doesn’t even know he has a son, she hadn’t known herself until weeks after the ships for Troy departed.

He doesn’t know. Ctimene smiles bitterly into the bright sunshine. She’s still thinking of him as if he’s alive, when chances are very good that he isn’t. Other soldiers have returned to their homes over the past two years, most of them in the first few months. She knows the war is over, and the Odysseus survived it. Her parents received word from Menelaos about that, and they had passed the message on to her. Ithaca is a sizeable island, and Odysseus had distinguished himself as a general in the war.

But no one had bothered to send a message about Eurylochus of Same.

Even if he did survive the war, no one from any of their islands has returned home. It’s very likely they all drowned. Mother never gave up hope that they were still coming, that they had only been delayed…she had died believing that any day now, Odysseus would come walking through the doors.

Ctimene was there when she passed. They knew she was failing, and Eumaeus had arrived in a ship to escort her home in time to say her goodbyes. Leotychides had joined her, initially sitting seriously and quietly at her side, looking at her with wide, frightened eyes when his grandmother touched his face with her cold hands and called him Telemachus.

Telemachus, though only older by a year, somehow knew just what to do, and he’d led his cousin off to play a game. Mother had slipped away before they returned. She’d died looking beyond Ctimene and Eumaeus to the doors behind them, telling them calmly and softly that she wasn’t going to the Underworld just yet, she had to wait for Odysseus.

At least she had still died with hope. Father seemed to have lost all hope after that, retreating to the kingdom’s farmlands and forsaking the palace. To Ctimene, it was as though she lost both her parents within the span of only a week. Only Eumaeus, Penelope, and young Telemachus remained of her family.

Poor Penelope. Ctimene doesn’t envy her position these days, even if she has brought the troubles on herself. With Odysseus presumed dead, Ithaca is ready for a new king. And Penelope, lovely as she is, would have no shortage of suitors even were she not Queen. But like Mother, she refuses to accept the loss and move on. As long as she insists her husband is alive, Telemachus cannot become king, and she cannot remarry. Yet she can’t stop men from trying to court her, and already last Ctimene heard there are at least a dozen of them on her doorstep.

At least as long as Euenus lives and rules, no one dares to bother Ctimene or Leotychides. They are left to age and grow in relative peace, in this place that isn’t her home. She ought to be grateful for that.

And she is. She is grateful. Most of the time.

Before Eurylochus, she’d known the touch of no man. She had longed for it, though, and in the few precious weeks they had together, she had come to enjoy it more completely than she could have imagined. Then abruptly that was taken from her, and for twelve years she has been longing for it again. She loves her son, adores watching him grow into a tall and awkward young man, treasures his companionship. But there are other types of companionship she desires.

If Eurylochus will never return, she wants someone to warm her bed, hold her close, share the joys and sorrows of her heart. To find someone who will love her after Leotychides is grown, so she won’t someday find herself old and alone on this island which isn’t her home. She doesn’t want to be lonely forever. She is loath to die like Mother, waiting for someone who isn’t coming back. Twelve years is so long, after so short a time together.

And yet while she is on Same, under the roof of Eurylochus’ parents, the decision is not hers. Until they admit he is dead, she cannot dishonor the family by taking a new lover. She will not open herself up to the sort of slander that such a rash act would bring. She is Ctimene of Ithaca, daughter of Laertes, and she is no whore.

She lies back on the roof, melting into the heat of the sun-baked tiles, and closes her eyes. In her mind, she tries to conjure up Eurylochus’ face. It’s not difficult—Leotychides looks so much like him. In fact, she remembers Eurylochus at eleven years old. After the harvest every year, and in the spring, he and the children from other surrounding islands would come to Ithaca. Mother and Father would throw a feast and listen the ideas and requests of all the smaller kingdoms. He was the one who taught her how to climb trees. After years of tagging after Odysseus and Eumaeus and begging for their aid, this tall, dark boy had taken the time to patiently show her where to put her feet and instructed her on how to pull herself up to the lowest branch. Once she’d made it that far, she’d caught on quickly. Climbing came as easily as her to breathing now. It was why this roof had become one of her favorite places. She can sit quietly, undisturbed by duty or honor, stare across the waters, and see home.

But the young man who kissed her in the highest branches of the tree outside her parents’ palace—Odysseus’ palace—is not the Eurylochus of today. If he even lives. Tears burn the backs of her eyes, and since she is alone she feels no shame at letting them roll down her cheeks. If he’s still out there, why hasn’t he come home? Why does he leave her to suffer like this, forever a guest in his home, queen of nothing but loneliness? How could he still be out there, changed beyond recognition by time and war, walking about under the same sun that’s warming her skin?

She wants it to be possible. She longs to see what they years have done to him. She can imagine just the way his arms will fit around her, and the adorable look of shock on his face when she introduces Leotychides. The picture in her head makes her smile, and she remembers how he used to make her laugh. Every time she did something unexpected, he’d make that silly face of surprise, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

His family had paid a huge bridal price when he asked to marry her. He’d thought, somehow, that without it, her family might refuse. She’d laughed when he told her that. She still remembers the moment. On their wedding day, after all the ceremonies. She’d laughed and demanded to know what had made him think for a moment that her parents would stop her marrying whoever she chose. “I didn’t think you’d chose me,” he’d said, and she could have slapped him.  “If I didn’t want you, you stupid man, then no amount of money could have bought me.”

She used to laugh so much. She used to be so young. She used to be so free.

She wants him to come home, even though she knows in her heart that he’s dead. She can accept the cruel fate the gods have dealt her, however it plays out. She’s never been one for denial.

But all the same, Ctimene misses her husband. Perhaps she always will.

[ineedtherapydesperately]

I was listening to the Cyclops saga and more specifically My Goodbye and like tell me why is that song so Red and Queen of Hearts coded?? like a Red and Queen of Hearts coming of age kinda scenario like imagine QoH is all demeaning and condescending towards Red and then Red just snaps?? straight up loses her shit?? like hear me out it's so them

like this is absolutely something QoH would say bsffr especially considering the books as well and girlie is here like I raised you to be the Princess of Hearts?? blah blah we're meant to be evil rulers together in the future for the sake of Wonderland

then the lecture would absolutely turn into a 'why are you such a disappointment' rant and then QoH goes on a whole ass tirade against Red again like

and Red just snaps, thinking about her friends like Chester and Ace, thinking about what QoH did to them and thinking about how she was so utterly powerless against her own mother

so she screams, she yells, she cuts QoH out of her life for good because she's so SICK of her mother constantly telling her what to do, how to act, who to kill. she's so sick of living her life under some Queen, ruled by some Queen

but ofc QoH has to slip in her own little off with their heads reference but surprisingly doesn't put up too much of a fight?? like she just lets Red walk out, which surprises Red until she realises that it's a sick ploy because who can Red turn to now?? she just alienated the RULER of Wonderland, their absolute Queen, their tyrant but Red can't find it in herself to care because she's finally free of her mother

and Red being Red can't resist one last quip at her mother before she leaves the court for the final time, packing her bags and headed off to wherever (probably Chloe) and leaves QoH to wallow in this parting shot because Red was right?? she's all alone?? first, Ella left her, and now her daughter and she's all alone??

idk this song got me thinking things but yeah Red is so Odysseus coded and QoH is so Athena coded

[mer-acle]

Your fic is giving me more thoughts of winged!athena being more animalistic in her human form….

had the idea of Athena being more of a cornered animal when Telemachus finds her, weakly screeching and hissing at him because she’s in so much pain she doesn’t recognize him and she only has the thought of finding odysseus….

Thinking she’d still apologize to odysseus but it’s mixed with weak owl noises before she passes out…

Your fic is giving me so many ideas but I cannot write well so I’m sharing them here instead of in a fic lol

My finger slipped...

------

The owl's form contorted and shifted, changing painfully into the humanoid form he knew. She hissed sharply, arching her back.

"Athena?" Telemachus's voice shook. There was something very wrong about her, her feathers ruffled and all but completely covered by a golden liquid he instinctively knew to be her blood.

Her eyes darted to him, something wild and foreign in them, and she hissed again, weakly scrambling to her feet, one wing spreading behind her as the other hung down limply.

"Athena, what's wrong?"

She staggered, but there was something so feral in her features that he didn't dare get any closer. He lifted up his hands, showing he was unarmed.

"Athena, it's me... it's just me."

She just hissed at him, a piercing sound that he'd heard from owls before, she was looking at him, but she didn't see him. He wasn't sure how much of her was present at all.

Her legs gave out and she went to the floor hard, making him gasp. His thoughts were racing. She was hurt, but she wouldn't let him help her, and he knew that even like this, she was way more dangerous than any common wild animal.

She whimpered weakly, a shuddering hooting noise that sounded absolutely miserable.

Telemachus swallowed hard.

"It's okay," he said softly. "You're okay, just stay here, I'll get help."

------

Hope that's close to what you thought about :)

[the-tech-turn]

fanart prompt for EPIC!

either ghost polites holding the infant Ody dropped or Eury from mutiny with his giant sword covering half his face and reflection in the blade is Ody

I’VE HEARD OF THIS BEFORE!! It made me so sad but it was so interesting. I just HAD to draw it!

(Edit: I realized I forgot to add the bloody version, so I put it in)

Tw: (badly drawn) blood

Here’s a short drabble about it!

(Not spell checked)

All he could hear were screams begging to live, desperate to see their families but in the mists of all the chaos, Odysseus heard faint crying in the distance. He recognized it as the tears of a baby. His mind immediately went to Telemachus but as the weeps grew louder Odysseus recognized the child as the infant he had killed. Guilt and regret resurfacing so quickly causes him to panic. His breath quickens, and on instinct, he reaches for his sword. In the middle of the screeches for salvation, he hears a familiar melody.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms.”

“Polites?” The captain whispers.

The sobs of the infant soften as the song continues. He runs to the back of the ship looking over the edge. There he was. His best friend holding the small prince. Polites rocks the precious child calming him with his lullaby. He reaches his hand out wanting his brother to notice him but the soldier is focused on caring for the boy. With tears threatening to fall from his eyes he calls for his brother one last time but to no avail.

Odysseus' heart was overwhelmed by emotions and his mind was filled with questions. The loudest question by far was if he knew he had been the reason the innocent child was in the underworld.

(I won’t be doing this for all of the requests I just felt like doing this)

Request here

Art Prompts

[sotwk]

I just ran across a fic drabble (Tumblr tag recommendation) that was less than 500 words of pure PWP smut and it had over a thousand notes.

Never saw a more convincing argument to stop using kudos/like counts as a sign of fic quality.

[flurrys-creativity]

Ruthlessness

Pairing: Joshua Hong (Seventeen) x GN!Reader; Genre: surfer au, siren au, angst; Rating: nc-17; Warnings: mood swings, mentions of dangerous waves, powers over water, open end (depending on how you interpret it, he might die... he might survive... nobody knows); Wordcount: 940

Summary: Joshua loved surfing - even the most dangerous waves. Though the deal he struck to achieve that, might have been a mistake after all.

A/N: This is a deal I made with the lovely @arafilez who will post another version of surfer boy Shua!

“I can’t believe you made that!” 

Mingyu paddled over to the spot Joshua was floating with his surfboard. Once he reached his friend he splashed some water at him, laughing in disbelief. “How do you get those waves?”

Joshua laughed as well, shielding his face with his hands and arms. Yet he didn’t make any attempt to answer the question. Instead Joshua only shrugged with his shoulders, a soft smile plastered across his lips and a mysterious twinkle hidden in his eyes.

Mingyu hit the water one more time, nearly drowning Joshua with the amount of water he directed towards him. “One day I will know your secret! Might even take over and be the regional surf champion instead of you.”

Joshua’s smile dropped momentarily, a tense aura wafting around his form all of a sudden. “You shouldn’t try.” He stared at his friend with slightly widened eyes, showcasing the severity of his mood change.

A shiver ran down Mingyu’s back from hearing the ominous words, the sudden seriousness leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. “Dude, I’m just joking.”

Almost instantly the smile returned to Joshua’s features and the heavy weight that had pressed on them lifted as if nothing had ever happened. “I’ll do one more wave and then head back”, he announced, completely ignoring the past few seconds.

Mingyu watched Joshua paddle out into the open sea, not daring to follow him or address the interaction. 

As soon as Joshua thought he had enough distance to Mingyu he stopped paddling and took a deep breath. There was no way he could ever reveal his secret to mastering the most dangerous waves. Not without putting others into danger.

A dark shadow glided through the water right underneath him. Not even a second later the water started building up into a massive wave. 

Joshua barely jumped up on his board in time,  balancing himself as the salt water forced him away from the local beach. Yet, he wasn’t concerned, enjoying the ride instead. 

Soon enough he found himself nearing a secluded rocky shore. A few tide pools were hidden between the rocks and you sat on one of the edges of it. Your long, strong tail moved from one side to the other, barely gracing the surface of the ocean.

“Fancy seeing you here”, you giggled as you carded your fingers through your wet hair, looking him up and down and biting on your lower lip.

Joshua chuckled softly as he shook his head. “Fancy being here.” He held onto the rocks, looking up at you with a faint smile.

“You look worried.”

Joshua sighed and shook his head again. He averted his eyes, looking over the vast ocean instead. “Just wondering how long I can keep you secret.”

You pushed yourself from the ledge and plummeted down into the saltwater. A second later your head shot back through the surface. You placed your webbed fingers on the board, keeping you in place as you observed him. 

Ever since you met Joshua, you had become obsessed with him - his smile, his eyes, his manners, his voice, his passion - everything about him drew you in. He was on your mind the whole time and your desire to be near him grew even more whenever he stayed on land. 

“Is it because of that other human?” You tilted your head to one side, appearing almost like a curious seal with your large, dark eyes.

Joshua winced slightly before he tried laughing it off. “Mingyu was just joking. He’s no threat, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You implored, reaching for his hand. “I can deal with any threat for you.”

“Don’t!”

You flinched from his harsh tone, using your tail to push yourself away from him and the board. “Don’t?” You narrowed your eyes, trying to suppress the twitching of your upper lip which would reveal your sharp teeth. 

Joshua never spoke like that with you, he never looked at you with such a distant gaze. It irked you that one insignificant human was able to change his behaviour towards you so drastically. 

A tinge of fear played over his feature, seeing your expression morph with rage. Before Joshua could even fathom his movements, he pulled himself up on the rocks, leaving the water. He stood there like a deer caught in headlights, staring down at you with new found clarity.

“I shouldn’t have relied on your powers”, he whispered. Joshua bent down, trying to release the securing leash from his ankle. Something inside of him told him to get away from the ocean as fast as possible - even if it meant losing his board.

“Get back in the water”, you hissed, holding one hand towards him as if you tried using some sort of force to pull him back in.

The water rose around you, lapping dangerously at the edges of the rocks and the sides of your body. 

Joshua barely kept his balance on the slippery surface. At that moment, looking into your dark eyes, a memory came back to his mind: 

“You’re way too nice. Do you even have an ounce of ruthlessness in you?” Joshua could still hear the words of his friends clearly inside his mind. Back then he had laughed it off but right now he wished for it. For a split second he wondered whether an ounce of ruthlessness would have prevented him from making a deal with a siren. 

He couldn’t find an answer to his own thoughts before another wave hit him and he lost his balance.

Maybe it was true what people said, maybe ruthlessness was after all truly mercy upon yourself.

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

[sokoviansimp]

So I wanted to make a post and apologize for not getting “Control” out sooner. I just haven’t had the time to work on it because I hate my current job so much that whenever I have free time I am applying to new jobs and updating my portfolio. Once I am happily in a new work environment I will put my time back into this fic.

———————————

For now I will leave you with a thought I had inspired by Epic: The Musical.

Imagine Y/N meeting a goddess as she forages for food away from her kingdom. After accidentally passing the test laid out for anyone to attempt, Wanda reveals herself and offers to mentor Y/N to become the best warrior the world has ever seen.

“Being friends with a Goddess? How could I turn that down??” Y/N exclaims.

“not friends. Mentor.” She says pointing to herself, “Mentee.” Wanda points to Y/N.

Years pass as Wanda teaches Y/N what it means to fight with wit and intelligence over brawn. Eventually she leads an army off to war to protect her island from a far off threat, only to defeat her enemy with ease and get lost on the way back.

Wanda pops up every now and again when Y/N needs help but the time spent away from home, the hunger from lack of food, and the yearning for their old life take a heavy toll. The crew faces threats along their journey, so dangerous that only few remain when the ship is ripped to shreds by Poseidon.

Washing up on a deserted island leaves Y/N hopeless and doubting that she’ll ever get home. Wanda keeps Y/N company to prevent her from going insane but refuses to intervene in her journey home as it’s against the code of conduct.

They grow to love each other, well Y/N always had a thing for Wanda anyway, but witnessing Y/N’s more domestic nature slowly chips away the walls that Wanda built and they end up falling in love on a deserted island. Love in Paradise.

[viablemess]

Let Me Be Your- (Polites Centric Fanfic)

Before Polites’ was Odysseus’ reminder to greet the world with open arms, he was many other things to the King of Ithaca. This story explores what those things were.  Polites is my comfort character so naturally I must write about his history. Very rough draft drabble stage currently and may post it on AO3 soon, but wanted some initial feedback. Thanks!

Stranger (Chapter 1/6?)

The first time Polites met Odysseus, he did not even go by the name Polites. In fact, he remembered very little of the meeting itself. He remembered what he did not like, and how those factors were mitigated afterwards, but that meant little to him in the moment. 

All Polites remembered, really, was chaos. He did not even know what chaos as a word was, but he knew things were anything but normal. People were screaming, fleeing, and fighting–who was fighting who, the child was not even sure. He just knew to run. That was the last thing his parents had said, and so he listened. He was good at listening, good at doing what he was told, good at following orders. So, listen he did. He ran, and ran, and ran until his legs could not anymore. He ran away from the fires and the buildings, the screaming and the blood, until he reached a tiny camp surrounded by otherwise mundane plantlife. He stared, and before he could even think about his actions, he collapsed into the center of it, ignorant to the hollering questions off in the distance. 

When he woke up, it was to voices. They sounded annoyed. 

“What do we do with a child?”

“He’s the enemy, I think I know what-”

“You forgot that he’s a child, you dipshit-” 

“What’s even the difference?”

His eyes opened and he scrambled backwards, right into another body. This one was not like the others, not covered in armor and so much bigger. This boy was close to him in height and stature, and without thinking, he ran behind the other boy, grasping at his shoulders as if using him as a shield. 

“Unhand the prince-”

“No.” A commanding voice said, and he ducked down, behind the boy. The boy turned towards the new voice on instinct and without hesitation. “Odysseus, this boy is the same age as you. What would you do with him?”

The boy–Odysseus–took a deep breath. “What do you mean, father?”

“I mean would you spare him, or not? He is our enemy, and he is a child. I took you with me so you can learn more, and based on what you have learned, what would you do with him?” 

He let go of Odysseus as if burned, and ran backwards behind a nearby tree, but it felt as if there were soldiers everywhere now–all around him, limping and moaning back towards camp in a cacophony of reunification. He grabbed onto the bark of the tree with trembling fingers. 

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Odysseus said, looking between his father and him. “Right?”

He shook his head. How could he have done something wrong if his family was attacked for no reason? Or at least no reason that he could remember. He just remembered being told to run. “I–I have not.” 

“They all say that, kid,” said a voice from afar. The man told them to be silent. 

“I don’t even know what I could have done wrong,” he said, a tremble beginning in his voice. No, no–his parents told him to be strong, even in the face of powerful people, and a prince certainly was powerful, so if he wasn’t–then–then-

“He should be spared then,” said Odysseus, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Odysseus’ father nodded. “Very well. I will respect your decision, Odysseus.” 

He said nothing. He simply held onto the tree, even as Odysseus approached him and reached out a hand. “Hi, I’m Ody. I can take you, if you want.” Not take care of you, but take you. He frowned. 

“What does that mean?”

That appeared to bring Odysseus up short. “I mean, like a slave. I can take you, so you’re with someone your own age and not with who knows who. I will make sure you’re looked after and stuff.” Really, what more could he hope for? He still had his mother’s blood on him, Gods knew everything would come crashing down eventually. 

“Um,” He reached out and shook Odysseus’ hand. “Very well. Thank…” he did not know if he should look at the king or the Prince Odysseus. He tried to stand up straighter. “Thank you.” 

“What will you call him?” The man asked. 

Odysseus frowned. “What’s your-”

“No,” the man interjected. “You name him, Odysseus.” 

He stared and waited. Odysseus looked deep in contemplation. “You said that slaves are like how I learn to treat animals and tools, right? And that without animals and tools and goods a city isn’t worth much?”

A slightly exasperated sigh followed. “Not in those words, but perhaps.” 

“So… I should treat him like I treat any citizen. Any member of the polis. What do you think of Polites?”

He stared. “I’m sorry?”

“The name. Polites. What do you think?”

It wasn’t his, but it was a name–it was a sign they would keep him alive. “I like it,” he said, sounding the name on his tongue. 

“Good!” Odysseus beamed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well then, Polites, it is good to meet you. I’m Odysseus of Ithaca.”

[byrdstrolls]

NEW SPRITES FOR THE DOCTOR OF ALL TIME HANAGI CHEONG <3

[xjulixred45x]

OKAY! I HAVE SUCCUMBED TO THE VOICES OF MY LATEST HYPERFIXATION: LEGO MONKEY KID! UNTIL I SATISFY THEM I WON'T BE ABLE TO WORK ON ANY REQUEST! Get ready for the most absurd rants you've ever heard about Jttw, lmk AND EPIC THE MUSICAL! YOU ARE WARNED!

I find it somewhat funny how the vast majority of adaptations of Sun Wukong leave out that the Monkey King HAD A WIFE. a fucking wife that he KIDNAPPED AND FORCED TO BECOME HIS BRIDE.

She literally appears singing about this :'D before Nezha and his father rescue her.

and while I was learning about this, I couldn't help but think about the songs from Calypso, from Epic: the Musical (another recent hyperfixation) and in some way relate it to Monkey Kid.

after all, LMK's Wukong knows that the things he did when he was young were QUESTIONABLE to say the least (he literally said it) and that he regrets many things, and I wondered what his dynamic would have been like in that case with Jiaozi (his "wife ").

and that is precisely why I relate it to Love in Paradise in a certain way.

Like, we know that this Wukong definitely had good intentions, which were initially driven by good reasons, but which became more and more selfish, so here perhaps he could have brought Jiaozi to Flower Fruit Mountain as a direct response to 1- monkey logic + 2- after his trip to the west he needed a way to deal with loneliness and 3- demonic courtship is WILD.

Anyway, I can see this more (ONLY IN LMK) as a response to mourning and handling loss (the Brotherhood? Macaque? is up to your interpretation) and that he really doesn't know how to manage/communicate his emotions in a healthy way.

Imagine being Jiaozi, being taken from your comfortable princess life overnight, waking up in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE with a monkey man who is too... friendly to be a kidnapper?

Like, lmk's Wukong acts just like Calypso, with a lot of familiarity, his normal confident post-trip to the West self, explains the situation to Jiaozi (but in a much friendlier way than it really is) and she's like "uh HELL NO" but there really isn't much to do against the literal Monkey King, THE SAGE, THE EQUAL TO HEAVEN, and poor Jiaozi is having a full-blown crisis while Wukong doesn't understand why she's so distraught, don't she understand him? They have everything they want and need in the mountains!

Ironically other texts also described Wukong as a "spoiling husband who gave a lot of clothes/food/things to his wife" and that was probably the route he took after the beginning, Wukong has a lot of trash, but he was more than willing to share with Jiaozi as long as she was happy, that she wanted him back...love him Back.

He JUST doesn't understand the seriousness of the matter that KIDNAPPING YOUR SPOUSE REALLY IS...until Nezha and His Father come along.

Now, I don't think Wukong is stupid even before that happens, he would see Jiaozi's clear anguish, her sadness, the desire to return to her old life with her family, and although he consoles her and such, he is having a crisis, This is supposed to be normal, right? So why does he feel so bad when he sees her so distressed?

The glass fills slowly but surely.

I don't think he was a bad husband Per se, like I said, he was very pampering and such (maybe even Jiaozi sees him in a certain positive light, even if not as a husband, because of his good deeds of the past), but he had a big problem with taking things too lightly and not dealing adequately with his emotions.

so when he receives the ultimatum from Nezha and company, he has a very Im not Sorry for Loving You moment.

in which he does just that, he explains to Jiaozi that he let her go with Nezha, that he regrets having made her go through all this just out of selfish fear, and he very much regrets not regretting loving her even so (many years of being alone screwed him up a little head, so this type of interaction definitely marked his isolation even more in the future).

Even if in lmk Jiaozi doesn't keep track of him or anything like that, she makes it clear to him that she couldn't love him the way he wants her to love him. and it hurts, but it hurts good. because he learns from it.

(PS, it would be quite ironical if this Jiaozi marry Nezha of all people lol)

waaaaaaa I just love finding parallels between my hyperfixations, I will soon publish another one, but it will be much fluffier and from this same fandom.

(the songs that give the idea)

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[xfilesinamajor]

Second in Command

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How much longer can this go on?

[mari--lace]

It’s the first time Calypso sees a yellow rose.

Tell me though, who’s Penelope?

[raivenantcravings]

thinking of an oracle of delphi kaisagi au hmmm

Isagi is the oracle and Kaiser is Apollo.

Isagi is considered one of the greatest priests for how accurate his divinations are and is well loved in his community.

Kaiser recognizes Isagi’s connection with the gods and how good he is at interpreting prophecies. Though, doesn’t look further beyond that because humans chose Isagi as the prophet and handed him to Kaiser. It wasn’t like he chose him himself.

Wants to test Isagi by sending him more and more cryptic prophecies to see how Isagi will interpret them. Isagi succeeds in deciphering them every time.

Slowly realizes that he sees Isagi as more than just his mouthpiece and slowly falls for him.

But like most love stories between gods and humans it always ends tragically.

greek god aus hmmmm

[bagelrites]

If you’re still taking requests, would you do skephalo with this prompt? Skeppy being all quiet when he’s flustered is so endearing

this is an INCREDIBLE prompt and flustered Skeppy is *chef's kiss*

Skeppy really hadn’t accounted for the tattoo artist being so hot.

He’d thought everything else about it through, thoroughly. He was 18 and getting his first tattoo and he didn’t want it to be impulsive. He wanted everything to go smoothly so his mom couldn’t tell him I-told-you-so when something went wrong.

But then the artist—a guy apparently just named “Bad,” according to his name tag—tied up his long hair and rolled up his sleeves, revealing surprisingly toned arms covered in intricate tattoos, and Skeppy was losing it.

He got very quiet and focused, trying and failing to keep his eyes off the guy as he worked on him. It was, at least, distracting him from the pain to be so caught up in having Bad leaning over him, tattooing a floral design over his ribs. Skeppy wondered what he thought of him, if he was impressed at all when he took off his shirt. He was toned, too, just not as much. He had a little bit of hair on his chest, but again, not much. 

Bad looked older, though, and probably just saw Skeppy as a kid. Life was so unfair, putting this gorgeous man right in front of Skeppy, and yet keeping him so far out of reach.

Then the needle dug a little deeper or brushed over a nerve or something, and Skeppy tightened up at the pain. He held in a yelp and took a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax.

“Good boy,” Bad murmured, not taking his eyes off his work, and Skeppy’s brain short-circuited.

Oh, he was lost. His mind was soup, face burning red as those words played again and again in his head, layering naughty images on top of them.

The remaining hour of the session seemed to stretch on forever, the torture of Bad’s attractiveness and Skeppy’s dirty mind almost worse than the pain, but finally, Bad gave his work the final wipe and told him they were done—for today. He’d be coming back soon to have the color done.

“You did really well,” Bad told him.

“Yeah?” The word coming out embarrassingly breathy, so Skeppy gulped, then said with a steadier voice: “I mean, thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again soon.” Bad gave him a wink, and Skeppy melted all over again.

How was he supposed to survive another appointment?