#ITS MY IDEA JUST LOOK AT MY AO3
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Thinkinnnnnnnn... about Soap's thick cock at a military charity dinner/ball with reader. Okay, hear me out, though!
Poor thing is finding it too difficult to hide his boner sexual feelings for you (having only just met you, of course) as you laugh at his jokes and place a hand on his arm like you've known him for a millenia, aware of the fact that you're just one of those friendly 'highers' of the echelon, only there for the written bonus you'll get in the post within the next few weeks.
So, whilst you're busy chatting it up with one of those... Captain bastards on your table - not his lovely Captain, of course... love you, Price - he slips out of his assigned seating to creep to the bathroom, passing an uncomfortable number of strangers as he nears the entrance, praying to the Lord himself (just as his mum begs him to on Saturdays) that they won't look down at his crotch as he crab-walks with his back along the walls as if it's a new mission on his docket, all to pump an incredibly tough one out in a stall that takes him a healthy eight minutes to clean up from due to the oil-drum load of thick cum he managed to dislodge from his balls, having only just returned from base within the past three days.
#soap x reader#soap x you#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x you#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish x you#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x you#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish headcanons#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap cod#cod soap#soap mw2#soap mw3#soap mwii#call of duty#call of duty fanfic#callofduty#call of duty fanfiction#cod#wait cause i have thoughts#he gets back to the table and there's a standing ovation for some shit speech he didnt hear#and you dont stand#and he sees it#you're wheelchair-bound#NOBODY STEAL THIS I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD#ITS MY IDEA JUST LOOK AT MY AO3#ive already done this with another ship
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ok. question.
ortega ended up hallucinating sidestep after they "died", but sidestep doesnt know about that. they know it got bad, but never the full extent of how their death affected them. so if your sidestep Did learn, if they found out ortega looked for them in every little piece they could, would that change anything for your sidesteps? would their relationship with ortega be any different?
#pulp speaks#Am i thinking of my “ortega sees sidestep posthb” fic again? perhaps#shameless plug btw yall should read it its called 'seen' on ao3 and i still like it#but anyway the important bits: ive been thinking about it with my sidesteps and its really interesting to me how different they are#but theyre all some variation of “i didnt know you /cared/”#caine is. uncomfortable with the idea#i genuinely dont know why but i do know that in the end their feelings on the matter are “whats done is done and im back now” with a small#“ill try not to leave again” mixed in#meanwhile cyrus is a deer in headlights over it#itd be way worse if he learned it when they met again- i feel like if he learned ortega was still that attached he wouldve left and never-#-come back. he would still want to Now but hes too tangled in his relationships and ortega is his /friend/ and leaving would just explode i#-his face‚ god Damnit ortega you son of a bitch‚ he shouldve just run. you werent supposed to drag him into caring about people again.#cecilia would have mixed feelings about it. i think shed resonate with it a lot for reasons she doesnt want to face#but it would also hit her like a goddamn Truck that he chose to move on/replace her rather than try get her back and its easier to get mad-#-about that than question her own feelings. but also maybe she could use this to her advantage? maybe this time he knows theres always a-#-chance hell come back for her next time. maybe. shes hoping there wont be a next time.#cynthias an interesting case because shes in love with ortega. deeply. but ortega /never came for her/ when she /promised/ and cynthia-#-is still furious about it#ortega hallucinated her in death but she couldnt put the pieces together and go looking herself? she cared enough to look for her but-#-not enough to save her?#she would still end up settling on bitterness for abandoning her but the information would shake her to her core#anyway. i think ortega should be used as a squeaky toy 👍#caine lynzal#cyrus becker#cecilia rider#cynthia garcia#ortega#sidestep#fhr
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hai!!!!
i know you've already confirmed doing minor what ifs, but have you ever planned or thought of doing a longer one for a happy ending?
(im sorry for asking but these two make me mentally ill in the best way posible. )
The what ifs will be pretty well sized so hopefully they'll scratch the itch for y'all. My goal with the ending is also to make it kind of optimistic to empower other folks who want to write fanfic to give it a shot and make their own content too. I just love the idea of being able to make a positive impact with this story and to embolden others to let their own creativity run free. Plus I'd be cheering if there was a list of "works inspired by" that could sit at the end of the story when it's finished. That way the story (that a lot of people seem to really dig) can live on in everyone's interpretations of it!
#I'm happy just to put my own interpretation out there and im extra happy that ppl like it#but in the ever growing world of Billford i want my interpretation to be just one of many#im so excited to see everyone make their own nuanced take on the pairing#and while i can see ppl are enjoying the fic its never meant to be any authority on how folks look at the pairing#its just one lens through which it gets examined#i am super keen to read other billford fics when this fic is done too#as i have abstained from reading other fics since someone got it into their head to accuse me of plagiarism#i know how serious plagiarism is and i debunked the claims it was probably just a younger author being possessive of the characters#and jealous of the attention being drawn away from their story when my fic was starting up#but the whole accusation really jarred me so i haven't read any other billford while writing my fic#i am so excited to get to pour through the other stories in the tag when this fic is done#you have no idea how exciting the prospect is#and since the what ifs will all be contained within my fics universe i should be fine to start reading fics once kmky finishes#i am so keen to see what other people have written so best believe I'll be asking for fic recs haha#but if other people write stuff inspired by the fic i will be there cheering you on!!#kind of a long ramble in the tags but im just so excited about the prospect of ppl writing their own stuff#this is blanket permission for anyone whos read the fic and wanted to write something for it btw#and pls link it on ao3 if you do so i can show it to everyone!!
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gonna be a hater in tags real quick
#i need to get this off my fuckin chest its haunted me for ages but for some reason rn its bad#i fucking HATE when ppl act like la’s koholin island and ph’s world of the ocean king are/work the same#HATE IT. also hate ppl treating oshus n the wind fish as the same character bc i think its fucking lazy n uncreative n unimaginative#and makes the loz world feel so much smaller. but like. why do ppl act like the world of the ocean king is another dream world#bc its fucking no??? no one in that place is a dream construct i hate ppl acting like linebeck isnt a ‘real person’ just a former dream#construct if they think hes from that world bc its not a fucking dream world its a real ass world at no point is it suggested that its a#dream world just that link n tetra are simultaneously dreaming in their own world that doesnt make oshuss world fake or w/e#its just a different parallel world or some shit where time flows different relative to the great sea go watch the ending dialogue#literally nothing in the game suggests that its in any way like how koholint works besides it being an ocean place#i feel like i see these ideas in l////u shit a lot (ESP ppl acting like linebeck is the same thing as marin) and it feels like. do ppl in#l////u just not look into the games too hard do they not double check canon material or do they just accept shit parroted around#bc its way too consistent for me to think its just some headcanon thing and it PISSES me rhe fuck off if im being real#the oshus/wind fish thing is annoying as fuck already but i DESPISE ppl acting like oshus’ world is a dream its so fucking annoying#whatever ph is harder to play like look up gameplay then. do some research. its not the same fucking thing#ok yeah do hcs sure but i really dont get the vibe that its just some headcanon i feel like ppl just dont know theyre not the fucking same#its not like koholint its more like fucking lorule if anything. god fucking dammit i hate that im so wound up by this shit#whatever. i do wish ao3 let you mute wholeass tags like with authors so i dont have to see l///u shit ever
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Headcanon that Elves generally keep to themselves not through the aloofness brought about because of their immortality but because they are fucking helpless when it comes to mortal children.
Any mortal children. Man, Hobbit, Dwarf, any kid. Elflings are beloved for a reason but Elflings are still Elves at heart and do not possess the frankly worrying amounts of curiosity and determination that mortal children have and which gives them a certain aura of adorable that the Eldar cannot resist.
I know Elrond took Aragorn in because they took his mother in but I cannot help but think he also saw a tiny human and it clicked in his (admittedly half-Elven but it still counts) brain that this is an adorable baby and he needs doting on.
#lotr#lotr headcanons#elves#look maybe this came about because I'm reading a really good fic on Ao3#where Thranduil is his usual bitchy self until the Bardlings set their sights on him#and he's done for#I just like the idea of these immortal idiots going so utterly soft for little babies and adorable kids#like Elrond is doomed in Rings of Power once he properly meets Gerda and Gamli#smol dwarvish kids will steal his heart away#the fic is called My Heart is an Empty Vessel if you're interested#by likethenight#its really fucking good#though its so fluffy my internal angst writer is waiting for the other shoe to drop#it does not trust the domesticity#or Thranduil being happy and spoiling Tilda with presents#Tilda just making friends with the whole Woodland Realm as well#they were helpless against the adorableness#Elves react to mortal kids like we do with particularly adorable puppies#lots of handflapping#and noises that are MOST DEFINITELY NOT highly undignified squeeing
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this is here i rp if you guys were wondering.
#ugh... the hair clark agenda is rela. chest. forearms..beard ( but he shaves the beard#idk why ppl think hes hairless. it takes a laser and a piece of kryptonian metal to shave#he is not doing a full body down!#anyway this is him writing his third book i believe. look at all the paper on the ground! his robot bringing him more#hes like only i can be inspire din my fortress of solitude i cant write in the city its too noisey#i do love the idea of clark being someone who loves ppl and his city but even HE needs a place to fall back to to be alien BY HIMSELF#sometimes..he needs a break. we all need one. home away from home.#i also love his hobbies! whichi been gathering to write a meta on#because there is more to him . he doesn get up to just be superman! he has interest and has fun by himself too.#he is a fictional writer when he snot doing reporter stuff in case youw ere wondering#he makes fictional stories based on his experiences in life. in this book (hes writing it ) he made a self insert of himself who was..coole#like clar.k k.ent if he was cool. like james bond. HE LOOKED LIKE CLARK but instead of dorky glasses it was cool aviators and he was a bada#dont you think its silly he made a self insert. clarks adorable. imagine if ur muse reads his book like hmm this mc sounds familiar but not#familiar enough to be clark.#do yall think he is a fic writer on ao3? hes too classy for that he has a professional writign career but imagine.#anyway hi yall <3 hope to get to more new ppl w writing today im sorry if you feel ignored im TRYING SO HARD.
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i cant bring myself to take down any of my old fics but blease they r so embarrasing...
#why did i think i was such an s tier solangelo writer when i was 13 LMAOO#the issue is i have so many real good ideas i just Cannot finish them for some reason#and then every time i look at ao3 its like#3 fics im proud of and then the rest#and theres freaking 50 fics#its like looking thru my old art but almost worse...#guys... guys.#ok thats it gn <3 will post a fic again someday#shut up liz
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Tagged by @kittlyns (back in march lol) to share my lock screen, last song played, and last picture saved
it didnt specify how many people to tag so im going to tag 10 people bc kittlyn tagged me on my blog's 10th anniversary: @girlwwx @rudiecantfail @yokoyas @glitteratti @booksnbarricades @sonyachni @ettelwenailinon @smiliestboye @sisyphuslnabyss and @hopefulqueer
#i found this it in my activity and i knew i would never have a better last photo than i do at this moment in time#(well the actual most recent photo is just a png of the 2 lime green Xs that i separated out to make future versions of this easier)#the context of the meme is talking about songs being stuck in my head‚ not my general feelings toward them#and its about the great comet of 1813.mp3 not the entirety of great comet#also the pallas cat represents me bc my discord profile is that photo#you dont care#tag games#if you saw this on discord… um hello?? im trying to keep these 2 identities /Vaguely/ separate so pls like… dont share this blog over there#but youre welcome to stay and look around at... my 10 years of complaining and oversharing in the notes 😬#for the people i tagged: i chose you bc youre all people that i interact with/have interacted with in the past#thank you for being here. you obviously dont have to do this if you dont want to!#sorry im never on here anymore its bc i access ao3 through the tumblr app rather than a regular mobile browser so i cant really use mobile#and my internet makes it difficult to use tumblr on desktop#not me being like 'damn i cant believe NONE of them saw this yet' only to realize its been in my drafts for 3hrs#since i wrote this up i listened to zayn's leaked demo 'hurt' but im not updating this now#partially bc the idea of writing the alt text for the album cover i made makes me irrationally nervous
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I'm super tempted to just declare the original T4ATM as an 'unfinished thing' and then redo the entire thing. I probably won't, it really just depends if I can do what I'm planning to do. But still.
Overall, I'm replanning the entire thing, since I know what I want to do this time, and I can foreshadow a lot better. This is going to take a while though.
#none of this really makes a ton of sense without looking at my document but I promise this'll be good once its done#I just need to sort it out first#I kind of went into t4atm at first with the idea of a fic and not really the laoyout#like ive done with all of my other fics#so i want to sort it out properly before I go rewriting the entire plot#also i figured out what to do for book 4 since I was confused about it all#this is really gonna be awesome once its done though#the twins the triangle and the magic#t4atm#gravity falls au#ao3#writing#billdip#bill cipher#dipper pines#harper talks for no reason
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Braved by your Heart's Resolve
so i wrote what was supposed to be a one shot but is very clearly just the first chapter of a telemachus/peisistratus fanfic
i was inspired by this post by @majesnia. i don't know what happened but i was suddenly struck down by a telestratus hyperfixation and when i woke up from my fugue state this was on my laptop
read it on ao3 here!
Story: Braved by your Heart's Resolve
Characters: Telemachus of Ithaca, Peisistratus of Pylos, Athena, Polycaste of Pylos, Nestor of Pylos, Thrasymedes of Pylos
Pairing: Telemachus/Peisistratus
The sea pushed gently at Pylos’ shores, lazy and content and tinged a wine-dark red under the sun’s light. Small streams of blood ran along the sandbanks, only to be lapped up by the waves where they met. The shores were crowded with thousands of bodies, men and women bustling from place to place, or dancing, or praying. The roar of the crowd, the lowing of anxious bulls and the death cries of their peers, drowned out the usual sounds of the ocean which filled the coastal city.
Fires dotted the beach for those who had brought sacrifices to burn them, only preparing their own dinners after they had proved their piety. In the most crowded parts of the shoreline bodies jostled against one another, not more than a breath away from the next man. It was a sweaty, bloody, and euphoric event. The night before, seers and priests had foreseen that the festivities would be a successful and peaceful affair. Now, wine and blood stained the feet of the Pylians and Poseidon was pleased.
From where he sat, Peisistratus was well removed from the crowded realities of the festivities below. Fine blankets had been carefully laid over the sandbanks where his family was now seated, their banquet already awaiting them when they had arrived. King Nestor had given his libation and prayers first. He had stood atop the tallest sandbank and, only then, the shore had fallen into a comfortable silence as his booming voice rang out over the heads of his subjects. Faces had turned to him like plants did to the sun, their warrior king: an Argonaut first and then an Achaean hero at Troy, the great charioteer. Even the crashing waves on the beach had become hushed at his words.
“Hear me, Poseidon, tamer of horses and savior of ships,” Even in his old age, Nestor stood tall. There was no hunch to his back which so often overcame men of his age, nor any waver in his voice. His gray beard did not make him look old so much as it made him look wise. It was the kind of old age that so many young men envied even long before their joints started to grow stiff. “Bring our prayers to pass, be kindly in heart. Swell our spacious sails and protect those who travel the barren sea. Bring honor and glory with prosperous gales to Pylos.”
Thrasymedes, the eldest of his sons, spoke then. He was afforded some of the attention that his father had been, but the excitement of the festivities pulled many people away. He had the same prominent nose which graced the features of his fathers and brothers, large and bent not unlike the beak of an eagle when examined from the side. Despite his princely features, he had not the same commanding presence as his father. He, too, had fought in the Trojan war and many Pylians were proud to call him their prince. One day, he would be king. For this reason alone, many stayed to hear his prayer, eyes lifted to him in quiet reverence.
By the seventh and last prayer, all eyes had turned away. Peisistratus spoke his words to the sea god alone, knowing that the only eyes watching him were his family’s and, even still, some of them were restless to move on. Thasymedes’ son, only just reaching his tenth year, snaked a hand toward a plate piled high with cheeses only to have his arm slapped away by his mother.
Peisistratus prayed for good fortune, and for the safety of their merchants on the barren sea as his father had before him. Quietly, between only himself and Poseidon, he prayed for some kind of excitement. He prayed that he might be given a chance to sail on the barren sea himself, before his father paid the dowry of some noble bride for him. They were childish things to pray for, but Peisistratus hoped he might be forgiven for them all the same. He didn’t dare utter the words aloud.
When he lapsed into silence, his family took it as permission to begin eating. Gold and jewels which adorned the pale-armed wives of his brothers flashed in the sunlight as everyone reached for their wine, the meat, and the figs.
“These festivities were more fun when we were younger.” Polycaste leaned over to Peisistratus. She was his sister, and the closest in age of any of his siblings. They were both born only a few years before Helen of Sparta had been spirited away to Troy. The festivities which they remembered most fondly had been held in the absence of their father, and without the eldest of their brothers as well.
During those years, they had prayed that Poseidon would return their kin to them quickly once the war was over. Even now, the memories were fuzzy and distant. Peisistratus remembered the grasping hands of nurses, trying to rein him in during the long feast, and the distant look in his mother’s eyes as she gazed out to sea. He remembered breaking away from the watchful eyes of adults with Polycaste and splashing in the bloodstained sea.
“We always stained our clothes.” He remembered, shaking his head, but a smile tugged at his lips at the memory. Blood, even diluted as it was by the sea, still painted their chitons a dull and ugly brown once they dried.
“We always kept each other entertained.” Polycaste corrected him. She had the same dark hair as the rest of their siblings, framing her face in delicate curls. The finely woven shawl which hung loosely around her shoulders, dyed a rich blue, was a clear sign that she was of noble birth. Even the cool breeze from the sea could not chase off the summer heat, and no shawl was necessary to keep warm. But, all the women who sat with them now wore one, being princesses or the wives of princes.
Peisistratus hummed in agreement. “It was better than hearing for the thousandth time about Poseidon showing his strength at Ilium.” He whispered. If his father or brother overheard, they were sure to be furious.
Polycaste just laughed.
The sun made its slow arc along the sky. Festivals were a time of reverie for those allowed to enjoy them, but for the royal family they were just another banquet. For the common people, who spent the day dancing in ecstasy and eating the meat which had been slaughtered, it must have been a joyous occasion. For Peisistratus, it wasn’t unlike the banquets which his family held with grating regularity.
He daydreamed for most of it. Tomorrow he would be expected to return to his duties as captain to their languishing legions of soldiers—An entire restless generation, raised on stories of their fathers fighting at Troy. Perhaps if he had earned the position at their head he may have looked forward to his work, but it had been handed to him as had so many other things. Instead, his mind wandered to some life wholly imagined. It was hardly his own fault that he had been raised on stories of Argonauts and heroes like King Theseus and Perseus, for whom one of his brothers was named. None of them, aside from Thrasymedes, had been so lucky to have even a taste of adventure like the heroes of their stories.
The afternoon sun had been beating down on them relentlessly by the time a breathless herald kneeled in front of the fine blankets on which Peisistratus’ family sat.
“Eighty-one sleek black bulls, my king.” He reported the count of all which had been sacrificed. It was an impressive sum, to be sure. Four more than the year previous, and six more than the year before that. The number had only risen in the decade since Nestor’s return. Pylos itself, and Messenia beyond, poured forth its excess in thanks for his homecoming.
“Thank you.” Nestor gave a gracious bow of his head. “Now, don’t disrespect our dark-haired lord by scorning his festivities for work.”
The words were said like a reprimand, but there was a smile in the tone of his voice. The herald, still a young man with no hair on his chest, dared one glance at his king. His smile was bright like the sun and he nodded wordlessly before turning back to the festivities. Peisistratus watched as his feet kicked sand up behind them and he disappeared into the crowd beyond the sandbanks.
“Who is that?” Polycaste’s hand rested gently on Peisistratus’ shoulder, jolting him back to the present moment. He turned his head to look at her, and then followed her dark eyes to the figure which had stirred her curiosity.
A young man, no older than Peisistratus, was making his way up the beach. His reddish-brown hair was wild with sea wind, the look of a sailor coming home from a long journey. It was not a color of hair common in Pylos. His face was serious like that of a man on a mission, but fine and handsome in the way of princes. He was no one Peisistratus had ever seen before.
By his side was an older man, though there was something strange about his posture. He spoke in the young man’s ear, gray eyes burning with an intensity that unnerved Peisistratus, even from this distance.
“I do not know.” He admitted, curiosity burning in his chest. Without another word, he leaned forward to pour another golden cup of wine and stood. At the very least, it would be a travesty should his family not properly greet this newcomer.
The sand was hot under his feet as he approached the pair. The older man, having finished his scolding, turned his attention to Peisistratus. He felt his heart leap into his throat under his fiery gaze.
Behind him, his family had caught sight of the newcomers as well. They waved, fine fabrics fluttering in the wind with the motion. Peisistratus took hold of the strangers’ hands, pulling them toward where the fine throws had been laid out for his family. The young man’s hand was warm and soft, lighter in complexion than even Peisistratus’ own. The hand of a prince, he thought.
“Welcome, strangers.” As much as he may have wanted to address the younger man, Peisistratus spoke only to the older of the two. It would have been dishonorable to treat him dismissively. “Have you yet offered your prayers to Poseidon? That is for whom this festivity is being held.” He explained, offering the golden cup to the older man as they sat on the fleecy throw. “Once you’ve said your prayer and offered your libation, share this hearty wine with your companion so he can do the same.”
Placing the cup of spiced wine in the hands of the old man, Peisistratus felt some kind of jolt go through him. It was not unpleasant, like the feeling when some metal object unexpectedly zapped his fingers when he reached out, but was warm. The feeling was overwhelming, though, and something about the toothy grin of the older man made Peisistratus feel like the earth might swallow him up.
When the moment passed without calamity, and the old man began to say his prayers, Peisistratus turned his attention to the younger man. He startled, being met with two dark, brown eyes fixed on his. There was an intensity in the younger man, too, but it was more human. There was a weight to his stare, and it reminded Peisistratus of the first time he had seen his father after returning from Anatolia. It was the first memory of Nestor which Peisistratus had. His dark eyes and the weight that came with them. He had been young still, then, but in one glance his father had measured up the entire life he had lived in his absence. Great men had stares like that, he had concluded.
In his prayer, the old man gave the name of his travel companion: Telemachus. He prayed for safe passage home, and a swift resolution to some mission. As the old man poured his libation and passed along the wine, Peisistratus suddenly felt light headed. Poseidon had heard his prayer, silent as it may have been.
Telemachus repeated the prayer. Even when his words were echoes of another, they were captivating. His voice was clear and confident. A gift for speech like that was not given to common men. Peisistratus busied himself with preparing prime cuts for their guests. It was customary that they should be fed first. Curiosity chafed at him, but questions had to be saved. Even when it came time for asking them, it would not be left up to Peisistratus to speak. It was clear that guests such as these needed to be addressed by Nestor himself.
Mouths filled with food meant a lull in the conversation. Polycaste leaned around Peisistratus to get a better look at the handsome stranger. He knew his sister well, and the way she gathered courage to glance at him for only a moment didn’t escape his notice. He was kingly and handsome, sure to be a fine marriage match regardless of his lineage, and far more interesting than the throngs of Pylian nobility which had vied for Polycaste’s hand in marriage since before she could fully grasp the concept. Peisistratus could not begrudge her fascination.
And yet, whenever he looked over toward the stranger, his eyes were still fixed on him. Each time, Peisistratus hurriedly redirected his gaze, either to the ground or his food. It felt as though he was being scrutinized. Suddenly, his every movement felt arduous as he fretted over the right way to act. The newcomer should have been focused on Nestor, the other great man in their retinue, or perhaps even Thrasymedes. If the prince’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts similar to Polycaste’s, surely he should have been looking at her. It baffled Peisistratus that he should be the focus of any attention.
“Now that we’ve all enjoyed a hearty meal, my only interest is in our guests.” King Nestor spoke. Peisistratus watched his father smile graciously, a look which fit well on his worn face. The set of his wrinkles gave the impression that he had smiled often in his life. Even now, he was far from the dour old king one might expect. “What brings you to Pylos’ shores? Have you set off to trade your wares with our own merchants? Or perhaps you are pirates, here to risk your lives stealing our gold?”
Peisistratus could have told his father that he was wrong. He wondered if Nestor was playing some game with his guests, already aware that they were more than common houseguests. It did not seem like his father to be caught unaware.
For the first time, when Peisistratus glanced in the strangers’ direction, the younger of the two was not looking at him. Now, his steady gaze was fixed on the king of Pylos. “Nestor, son of Neleus,” His words were poised and well chosen. It was a sign of respect, to show he knew who his host was. Winged-words, Peisistratus had heard them called. Words chosen for men by gods who walked with them. His eyes slowly trailed over to the man sitting beside Telemachus, intense gray eyes burning in Nestor’s direction, now. “I am Telemachus of Ithaca, son of King Odysseus.”
At this, a hush rippled out from the fine blankets where they sat. Around them, the festivities were still. Odysseus’ fame was widespread. Many a night Nestor had regaled their banquets with stories of his clever brother in arms, raider of cities—The man who had devised the Trojan Horse, pride of the Achaean people.
“I’m seeking the truth about him. I wish to know his fate, wretched as it may have been. Many heroes were lost at Troy, but their stories are well-worn, now. We know of their resting places and how they came to meet their fate. The same is not true for my father. I only wish to know what you know about what became of him after the war.”
The world held its breath while he spoke. Polycaste rested her hand on Peisistratus’ while they heard his plea. One glance told Peisistratus all he needed to know about his sister’s feelings. Her eyebrows were pushed together in gentle concern, her wide eyes transfixed on the prince of Ithaca. She was enamored with him already. It was hard not to feel the same.
“Telemachus!” Nestor bellowed, face alight. He almost looked youthful in his excitement. “Now, there is a name I know well. Your father used it to identify himself among our ranks. Never was he Odysseus, son of Laertes, only Odysseus, father of Telemachus. And what a man you have become! Back then you were only a child.”
Peisistratus braced himself, for he knew what would come next. “You call back such memories…”
Nestor was not a bad storyteller. Peisistratus often wished that he had grown up with his father, being told of his time aboard the Argo or the story of his fight with Ereuthalion. But, being a young man now, and having heard the stories a million times, they began to lose their luster. Peisistratus settled down for what he was sure to be a long-winded answer to Telemachus’ relatively simple request.
No one knew of the fate of Odysseus. That was all that Peisistratus had ever heard on the matter.
Instead of saying as much, Nestor began with tales of the war at Ilium. He told of his friendship with Odysseus, about which Peisistratus had heard time and time again. Briefly, as Nestor commented on the Myrmidon’s return to Phthia, Peisistratus felt the weight of Telemachus’ gaze return to him. Determined to ignore it, he set his eyes on the ornate cup of wine in front of him. The gold was beaten thin, the scene of a bull hunt embossed on the outside by some expert craftsman. His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Polycaste bumping against him, giggling quietly to herself.
“He’s looking this way.” She whispered.
Beside her, their older brother, Aretus, shot them a sour look. Interrupting their father had always been akin to blasphemy, to him. Peisistratus glanced quickly in the prince’s direction, only to meet his eyes again. This time it was not him who averted his gaze, but Telemachus. He returned his focus to Nestor as if nothing had happened. Peisistratus took a moment to study him; the fine, straight line of his aristocratic nose, the way his hair looked more red in the sun than it did in the shade, his fan of thick eyelashes.
He tore his eyes away in time to hear his father say, “And you, my friend, you’ve grown to be tall and handsome yourself. Someday the gods will give you reason enough to be sung about, as well.”
The smile Telemachus shared at this praise was sheepish, almost shy. It was a crack in his facade. For a moment, he was not a shining prince, blessed by the gods, but just a boy, barely a man. Suddenly he was far more like Peisistratus. His age was easier to see, then, too. His inexperience and uncertainty peeking through for only a moment. He commended Nestor on his stories and then said, “If only the gods would visit me with such bravery. I would have happily taken revenge on the lawless suitors which crowd my hall at home. But the gods have different plans. For now, I must bear it.”
“I recall hearing about such a thing.” Nestor said. Peisistratus remembered hearing about it, as well. Politics and gossip often bled together in their halls. The stories of Queen Penelope and the ravenous suitors hoping to marry her were discussed by the nobles of the palace and whispered about by serving girls. Some tittered at the thought of so much attention, but most blanched at the thought of the impossible situation in which the Queen of Ithaca was trapped. “Do you allow your home to be abused?” It was not an accusatory question, but it may have come off as one. “If only the battle loving daughter of Zeus chose to love you like she did your father. Never have I seen an immortal show mortals such affection as Pallas openly showed him. If she stood by you, I am certain the suitors would flee your high-roofed halls.”
“Never, your majesty.” Telemachus’ response was quick, and came with a force with which he had not yet spoken. Peisistratus blinked in surprise. “I fear that will never come to pass. I am not my father.”
Humility was not something valued by their people, Peisistratus knew. Telemachus only said the words because he believed them, but to believe them seemed preposterous. Some ugly feeling settled in the Pylian prince’s chest. If he had the aid of the gods like Telemachus so clearly did, he never would have spurned it. If he had been sent on some mission by Pallas Athena herself he would have honored her for the rest of his days.
The gods walked with some men. Nestor spoke about how much love Athena lavished on Odysseus, but he had been the favorite of several deathless ones in his time. Heroes, those men were called, and Peisistratus had known Telemachus as one from the moment he saw him. And here he had the gall to act as if he were common. Some sour thing clawed at Peisistratus’ throat. Telemachus was the only son of a great king, clearly loved by the gods, and off on his own adventure. He had no knowledge of what it meant to be common. To be the youngest of six princes with no hopes for inheriting a kingdom or forging a legacy. He had no way to know what it felt like to see the face of an older brother he barely remembered cast in bronze and to wish to be him, to be remembered. No, Telemachus was not common. It was an insult for him to pretend to be.
“Telemachus!” The older man seemed to agree. He chastised the prince, those gray eyes fiery with disapproval. “You sound like a fool, doubting the gods and their plans.” He warned gravely. “I would rather wander for ten long years on the sea and come home to my loving wife and son than be murdered as King Agamemnon was.”
“Mentor,” Telemachus said, finally giving the old man a name. “Let’s not speak of my father’s return.” There was a pain in his voice, strained and tired, which suggested they had discussed it before. “What of Menelaus, King Nestor? Where was he when his brother was in such distress?”
More stories were to come. Nestor was happy to provide them. Once he had started to speak, telling the tale of King Menelaus’ long journey home from Troy, Telemachus’ eyes slid back towards Peisistratus. It was only then, when those deep brown eyes met his and Telemachus’ brow furrowed with concern, that Peisistratus realized he had been glaring. Hastily, he turned away.
As Nestor spoke, the sun sank lower in the sky. By the time he was finishing his tale, darkness had settled over them. Fires burned distantly, keeping the shore well-lit. “You should go, by ship or by land, to Lacedaemon. You can question King Menelaus yourself, press him for the whole truth. If you go by land my sons are at your service, as well as a chariot and a full team.” He promised.
“We must be on our way.” It was Mentor who spoke, not the young prince. Peisistratus could still feel his eyes on him. “You’ve told us such good stories, your majesty. But we had better think of sleep, returning to our sleek ships now that night has fallen.”
“I won’t have it!” Nestor was quick to reply. He looked aghast at the idea of sending the guests back to their ships for what would certainly be a restless night’s sleep. “You shouldn’t have to resort to sleeping on your ship while my house is so near. I won’t allow the son of my good friend Odysseus to bed down on a ship, not while I’m alive or my sons are left at home.”
“You’re right.” Mentor smiled, the same too-bright smile he had worn when Peisistratus had offered him wine. “Telemachus should oblige you.” He decided for the prince. “Let him follow you to your halls and sleep there. I’ll return to our ship and maintain order. The crew is full of young men, prone to folly. If he so pleases, Telemachus can go by chariot to the halls of King Menelaus, one of your sons can guide him along the way.”
There was the flutter of wings then and by some miracle an eagle took flight from behind the old man. Sitting where they did atop the throws, each of Nestor’s sons and their wives stared with wide eyes. Peisistratus suddenly felt the same lightheadedness he had earlier when he had spoken to the old man. A goddess, walking among them. Silent awe overtook them and, once again, Peisistratus fixed Telemachus with an incredulous stare. He had not only the favor of a god, but one who accompanied him.
“Dear boy, you have nothing to fear!” Nestor cried out in excitement. Peisistratus wondered if this was the first time he had seen the deathless daughter of Zeus since Troy. “It is clear that the gods favor you.” Quickly, he raised his head toward the heavens, where the eagle had disappeared, and said a quick prayer.
Peisistratus stared at the dark night sky where he’d last caught sight of the eagle’s wings. To himself, again, he said a small prayer: Glorious goddess, should his father choose a son to accompany Telemachus, let it be him.
#i'll probably put this on ao3 eventually but not tonight lol#telestratus#peisistratus#peisistratus of pylos#telemachus#i just so of‚‚‚ rip off the odyssey at times in this chapter#in my defense‚ i also looked up homeric hymns to get a better idea of how to write prayers?#nestor of pylos#homer#the odyssey#fanfic#man idk what to tag this as#but i hope it finds its audience ig#braved by your heart's resolve#bbyhr
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hi tumblr im a normal individual that writes extremely normal fics. [through tears.]
#haunted ecosystem#haunted bookshelf#fic: it looks just like a dream#im... gonna go make the webweave for this one.#i might accidentally write genderqueer roshambo (again) but thats just the way i roll.#yes this is an au fic. no i will probably never pursue this au beyond this one offshoot fic.#im not gonna au tag for that reason but i think its really interesting to think about the timeline for it. agony.#this is my first draft for the summary and i. honestly? ive learnt how i like to format things. unconventional as it is i think it....#i guess it captures my style better. i like the weirdly open-ended nature of it. my summaries are more additions to the story than *summary#which. maybe isnt the best idea. but im working within the constraints of ao3.#might see about cooking up a workskin for this stuff. it could be fun? possibly. maybe when i have more time.#also YES i cut off a bit of it. im not sure about that section so i am running it past some people first
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should finally have da next dragonsong chapter (loz longfic -_-) ready to go up tonight... don't know whether i should cross-post it here too, though
#i guess??? i should ???? i have no idea how id tag it or how to make it look nice but . ill think abt it...#i try not to be overtly concerned abt promoting stuff or engagement i think its genuinely poisonous and bad for my mental health#but for the purpose of just having stuff organised on my blog and not just my drive/ao3.... hrm...#we'll see!! anyway im gonna draw more links soon to celebrate ^_^#personal.txt
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Having been on several fanfic sites for several years, I can hands down GUARANTEE you that anything 'classic media' has done, fanfic has done better.
#This is not hyperbole I am 100% serious#“I wish there was a book or show where *insert thing that happened in a fanfic I read at midnight*”#Anything. Anything from weird puns to comprehensive and in depth analyses of the human condition#I see people gushing about the 'groundbreaking ideas' and 'awesome concepts' they read about and I'm just like#Do you want that with a dash of gay found family hurt/comfort or a heaping of misogyny#Once I read some shmancy prim article discussing the use of themes in some famous classical text I'd read and like.#Off the top of my head I listed three fics that had done it without the unexpected and unappreciated assault scene partway through the book#At least fic authors TAG#Ao3s filter system and the increasing lack of blurbs on books has ruined me for normal reading activities#I get a book for Christmas or something and I look at it and there are no archive warnings or desc or additional tags#No word count chapter count nothing#Anyway this is about how fanfic is a superior media to the competitive publishing industry of today and if a fic makes enough readers cry#It should get automatically added to the literary canon#Makes one feel more emotion than I did with the school assigned reading and there's SIGNIFICANTLY LESS chance of untagged 18+ stuff#ao3#Long tags#I did my final project of the concept of the literary Canon and its requirements and LET ME TELL YOU#Fanfic absolutely counts the higher ups are just cowards#'this book is a literary masterpiece it breaks down the human understanding of the future and our capabilities of distinguishing reality#From fiction and how one might develop detrimental coping mechanisms to handle it that leads to almost self destructive behaviour due to a#Self enforced blindness that renders one an outsider in their own life and by the way its all a metaphor for the oversaturation of media#Accessible at a young age leading to Youths Of Today absorbing negative traits unrelated to their environment through escapism '#Great I can list ten self insert fanfics with that exact premise I can just read them for free#And I can guarantee no racism or Victorian era style sexism
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[ID: A digital drawing of Sora from Kingdome Hearts wearing a black hoodie with red and white accents, a black shirt with a white butterfly in the upper centre of the shirt, white and grey headphones and black jeans with silver chains hanging from them. He has his signature crown necklace and is lying down in a green, grass filled place with some of the grass ending up on his body. He has his eyes closed and his hands are behind his head as tears fall down his eyes. There is some generic warm shading done to the drawing. The drawing is set in Quadratum in some grassy area.]
#kh#sora#my art#digital art#art#fanart#(you have no idea how much time i spend just figuring out what kinda fashion id like sora to be wearing right now)#(i didnt want red to be like overpoweringly there cause like idk it just didnt feel right)#(i found a pic on pinterest of a black shirt with a butterfly decal on it and went 'yep this is what hes wearing now')#(also!!!)#(fuck soras hair)#(i still dont really get his hair and spikyish hair in general is ***not*** my forte so i spent waaaay too long just on his hair)#(the headphones are mainly there because i bet the city can get a bit overwhelming for sora)#(and if not then its there just so he can listen to the waves as he tries to go to sleep because idk i think thatd be nice)#(also hes crying cause i view this as him haveing some dream or something about his friends and how much he misses them)#(got the motivation to do this after reading life long strangers by .holleighgram on ao3)#(got a lot more kh motivation after looking at their drawings and reading their kh stuff so expect more kh related stuff!)#(might draw riku next and then kairi)
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having conniptions at 3am as I realize that my only fully finished and realized fanfics are a one shot warrior cats vampire AU and a long ass one piece self insert shipfic that no one other than me will ever lay eyes on (probably?)
why am I like this help
#useless text post#I find myself writing almost exclusively self insert actually which I don't care if people find cringe but even so I find myself unable to#release them into the wilds#I have a couple non self insert-y ideas but its so hard to get. into the headspace to write them#or maybe I take them more seriously?#but then again I took my two longest self insert fics pretty seriously too so idk I guess i'm stuck unable to pass the embarrassment barrie#the embarrier as you will#secretly part of me does want to go ahead and post them now that I have an AO3 account but also the worries#what if peopel see them?#but even worse I think somehow is if I knew lots of people did see them and just ignored them I would fucking die#But like ...my tastes. are very formulaic and also specific#what if they bore people? On the other hand: What if they're exactly what someone has been looking for#im overthinking all this LMAO#I don't think im brave enough to do it tonight but maybe. maybe one day I'll be bold I'll be brave etc etc.#cringe on main blah blah#no one will read my inane word vomit tags anyways what am I worried for#(pleas validate me)
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I just had the thought of making a future fic updating schedule of 'once in a blue moon'. (Partly for the pun.) ...But then I looked up how often blue moons happen, and it's only about once every two years. So... that's probably not a good updating schedule. :(
(I have an existing fic with an update schedule of 'Friday 13ths and Halloween'. I like the semi-randomness. I would like to think of similar schedules. ...Though I'd missed the last two update dates.)
#...The 13ths fic is the only one that's currently active right now. And I haven't updated it in a year.#It was way too busy for me to write a chapter last 13th. It fell on a bad time of year.#and my computer's been messed up for the past few months so I hadn't felt like writing as Halloween neared.#Still don't know what's wrong with my computer but it seems to be less worrying now. Except I can't get Photoshop to work which is annoying#I could do 'once in a full moon' or 'once in a new moon' though they're a little too regular.#Hmm... looks like rainy days happen about twice a week when I try looking it up for my US state.#Updating on rainy days sounds interesting... for smaller-chaptered fics. Though I would need to write the chapters in advance.#When it's an event on a calendar it's easier to prepare for than the utter randomness of weather.#oh wait. my other fics aren't abandoned. DE is just the only one with a schedule right now. So... I don't know when to work on the others.#I might try updating 10/20 on full moons next year. ...If I can write its chapters quick enough. ...I might need a plan for a plot. hmm.#PD used to be updated very quickly but then I got stuck on a chapter near the end of the fic. I need to find time to reread it all.#Then there's the Gears universe... I wanted to try making the original oneshot into a comic. So I never wrapped up the oneshot.#And writing Another Gear would spoil the Gears oneshot/comic.#Dan fic 1 is... still not ready for publishing. I'd over-planned it. ...or under-planned it? I need to find time to really look it over.#...And the careful wording used in that fic is exhausting for me.#Hmm... there's a few oneshot holiday ideas I've had.#And the ficlets made specifically for this site (I think I have two unfinished ones—one about Vlad and one about Danny).#...For non-DP fics... They're on hold so far. I don't want to mix fandoms much or I'll get muddled characterization.#and my non-DP stuff doesn't get much attention here. Though I might should work on some Aladdin stuff for deviantArt. And BNHA for AO3.
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