#Monster Ody

[nightmarearian]

have Odysseus become an actual monster. It’s another way Greek Monsters are made. Humans lose their humanity and slowly become actual monsters.

Their teeth might sharp more and more, everyday.

Maybe how the speak has this enchanting (encompassingly off) tone to it, one day.

Their eyes are eerily blank, and their sclera & iris are getting closer in color every day…

They start walking on what seem like their tip toes, but they don’t seem to notice;

The way they walk gets more predatory; Leaning forward, shoulders first and with a slight glare that isn’t in their eyes but definitely in their body.

Imagine; that’s how (for a random example) Sirens (the birds) spawned off from a woman being hurt one to many times, trapped somewhere, neglected or unwanted, so she flew away free with an enchanting voice. For there, other sirens where born ‘naturally’, from others like her (rare), in nature as a monster (most common) or spawned of from them.

For the sake of, I guess it doesn’t always happen, or more likely those who lose themselves like this usually don’t live long enough for a full transformation.

I guess not transforming halfway and finding one’s humanity again could be plausible, but would entirely be verrrrrry hard work. I think one work around* would be centering your moral and humanity on others: This would be (if he does get out of it) how Ody gets out of a full permanent transformation, Penelope (& Diomedes, in my hc) are his moral compass & heart. *this would require a lot of devotion, I suppose. So perfect for PenOdy & Diody, really

Ody gets snake fangs, sharper nails/claws & wolfish ears at minimum, ig. By the time he's off Ogygia, he probably has siren-adjacent voice-powers. Not as potent or completely-hypnotizing as their singing, just verrrry persuasive. Like. Extra Charisma points. Not that he knows, considering he's been living & interecting with gods for the past seven years and then next few days, so.

[poppitron360]

Easily my favourite moment in Epic

[hawkeye221b]

Also not fucking Poseidon being like "you cant kill me" and oDY GOING "EXACTLY" LIKE SIR??? SIR

[hollenka99]

Telemachus: I wanna be legendary!

Odysseus, whose soul feels like it has aged 200 years in the past 20: No son, you really don't.

[tagzpite]

chimera odysseus!!!!

[nixthelapin]

I find this dichotomy so funny:

Odysseus, who has been in war for years and is quick to be crafty and trick his enemies: *laments and mourns giving up mercy and being forced to become the monster*

Telemachus, the one with a reputation of being small and weak with a good heart: *kills a man from behind while they’re distracted without any hesitation or remorse*

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus with his head in his wife's lap, happily not paying attention to anything, humming one of athenas song and carving something

Some random guy: your majesty----

Odysseus: not bothering to sit up: whatever my wife decided is fine.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

@anotheroceanid

Between Calypso’s island and his home, on a rocky shole surrounded by mile-high waves under a black sky, Odysseus became a monster. And like all monsters, he eventually watched all his loved ones die without him. 

At first, he didn’t notice. In his relief to be home and his joy to get to know his wife and son again, Odysseus didn’t realize how strong he was until he reached out to hold his wife’s hand and accidentally snapped her wrist. After that, he couldn’t stop noticing how different he was. Everything felt fragile, like spun glass under his fingertips. His form flickered like the wind, one moment strong and steady with the face of a man, the next moment shadowed and looming and clawed and every inch reeking of danger. He could see farther than his son, hear further, and one day Odysseus looked Telemachus in his face and realized they could be mistaken as equals rather than father and son. 

His family grew old while Odysseus stayed the same.

Well, not the same. Odysseus changed in far more horrifying ways. 

Eventually, his family died. First came Penelope, weak and frail and beautiful as always, passing away gently in her sleep, in his arms. Then his Telemachus, decades later in a sickness that swept across the island. Then his son’s son, then that son’s daughter, and her son, and on and on until his last descendant drowned in a flood that buried the whole island for a day. 

When he finally left Ithaca, the first time he’d left since he came home, the world had changed. And Poseidon’s children were everywhere.

Every single one of his son’s children were dead. Yet Poseidon just… kept popping out more and more bastards, like there wasn’t a target on each and every one of their backs. So Odysseus became the arrow.

Odysseus usually avoided eating demigods. There had been one son of Ares on Ithica who harassed his great granddaughter that Odysseus dealt with, but for the most part, he kept his human morals. But he always made an exception for the children of Poseidon.

They weren’t his favorite demigods to eat, by far–too fishy, and Ocean demigod meat always had a weird texture, like eel but tougher. But the joy Odysseus got from Poseidon’s screams of agony, screams Odysseus could hear every time one died, screams Odysseus could hear from anywhere on the globe, gave greater satisfaction than pleasure ever could. 

Many demigods had been sent to kill him. At first it was only Poseidon’s children, seeking him out in revenge for their lost siblings; a noble cause, so Odysseus killed them quickly and properly buried them with payment in their mouths. Then it became quests, demigods sent for the “glory” of killing the Monstrous King of Ithaca. Those, Odysseus killed slowly, ripping out their stomachs with siren’s talons and leaving them to die in pools of their own blood. He didn’t even spare his old friend’s children, nor his relatives. 

Then, the Prophecy. 

Odysseus had lost track of time since the reveal of the Great Prophecy. At first, he’d kept busy by killing Poseidon’s children still; a few had survived the second moral world war and were already older than 16, so Odysseus could hunt them to his heart’s content. But as the well of available revenge dried up, so too did the demigods chasing after him become… younger. Children baby-faced and desperate to survive Odysseus in battle and Odysseus… he couldn’t kill them. Not children, so small and shaking and unable to hold their knife correctly as a child barely old enough to fight stared up at him with watery gray eyes. 

Men, he could kill. Women, he could kill. But children?

Not again. Please don’t make him do it again.

So he disappeared. It wasn’t the first time he’d lay low out of the Gods’ gaze, so Odysseus let the decades wash over him until, finally, he heard rumors of Poseidon making landfall in New York. 

He’d known his old foe would slip up eventually; it wasn’t in Poseidon’s nature to keep himself from ruining young women’s lives. 

Slipping through the streets and alleys of modern New York, it took Odysseus weeks to catch the faintest trace of Poseidon’s scent. Demigods had a weak scent as long as they relied on their parents. It was meant to protect them. But the Kronide’s children always had strong scents, even as babes. 

Odysseus couldn’t figure out how old Poseidon’s newest bastard was, but no matter how young they were, the child was strong. He could smell it in the back of his throat. 

Triangulating the scent, Odysseus approached the rundown apartment building and scowled. Gone were the days where a lover of Poseidon was draped in fineries and set up in a golden palace. He took a moment to pity the poor mortal woman. She had to suffer the indignity of having that thing as a lover, without any of the perks her predecessors enjoyed; not only that, but soon she’d have to confront the reality of being a parent that has outlived their child. Odysseus pitied her, truly. 

He didn’t want to do it. But he would. It would be better for the babe if it never grew up into a pawn of its father, and better for the mother that she wouldn’t need to die at the hands of a less considerate monster. 

The sky rumbled overhead as the first fat drops of rain fell on his head. He looked up. Natural occurrence or divine attention? Either way, few gods would interfere with his task, if they noticed at all.

The lock crumbled under his grip and Odysseus crept into the building like a thief. Each floor stunk with humanity, of beer and tobacco and sweat, but the salt of the sea grew stronger with each floor until he finally found himself at a corner studio apartment a few floors off the ground.

This lock, he picked with ease. The sanctity of the home did not protect them as he snuck inside. The apartment was shockingly full, stuffed with oversized furniture that cluttered the already cramped apartment. A thin pathway carved between the back of one of three sofas and the wall led Odysseus to the back of the apartment. A bed had been pushed against the apartment’s sole window–lightning flashed outside–and against that bed, a crib. 

He inspected the mother first. Young. Not as young as he and Penelope had been when they met, but younger than Telemachus had been when he returned home. She was thin too, lean but the baby fat still clung to her face. Poor girl. 

Poor, poor girl. 

His attention turned to the Sea Spawn. It wasn’t big, smaller than Telemachus when he left for Troy, and his scent was just a wispy hint of ocean. If he hadn’t been following Poseidon’s scent, he would have had no idea this child was more than mortal. 

Odysseus loomed over the crib, studying the creature inside. With siren’s talons, he traced the pudgy babyfat of its cheeks. It huffed softly, struggling against the tight hold of its swaddle in their sleep, and Odysseus unconsciously smoothed out the wrinkle on their forehead with the soft flat of his finger. 

They did not look very much like Poseidon. Maybe with their skin color, but little else. Though perhaps Odysseus wasn’t the best judge; he’d sworn on his life that Telemachus looked just like his Penelope, but she’d claimed their son to be his copy in every way. Odysseus didn’t see it then, and didn’t see his enemy now in this babe’s face. 

Odysseus stood over the crib, his massive frame casting a shadow over the small, sleeping form. His claws hovered mere inches from the baby’s chest, but his hand trembled. This was Poseidon’s child. He could smell it clear as day, better than any other monster before him. Odysseus was practically made to murder Poseidon’s children, his very being honed to track them down and kill them, so why was he hesitating–? 

Lightning flashed, the light reflecting off shiny words on the crib’s backboard. Painted above the baby’s head in streaky gold paint was the name Penelope.

His breath hitched. He blinked, his monstrous form stilling as though time itself had paused. Reaching out a hand, he touched his wife’s name. “Penelope?” he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough from disuse. He said it again, this time louder, as though speaking the name would summon a ghost from his past. “Penelope.”

The child stirred in sleep, her tiny face scrunching as if disturbed by the sound.

He could barely think over the ocean of blood rushing in his ears. Poseidon’s child was named after his wife. Had he…? Was this a deliberate offense or mockery? Had Poseidon named the child after her to taunt him, to twist the knife of his losses deeper? Or… his crimson gaze turned to the mother. Was this her doing?

Did she think naming her child after his wife would stay his hand?

Worse of all, was it working? 

Odysseus knelt, his monstrous form folding into itself, making him seem smaller, almost human. He stared at the child who bore his wife’s name, his mind warring with itself. The rage that had sustained him for decades demanded he finish the task. But… Penelope. 

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

I recently saw the Community episode this meme is from and this is all I could think of

[nightmarearian]

tfw you just give up and make monster Ody a shapeshifter cause he has like 5 different animal motifs and/or similar monsters you could pull from

[poppitron360]

I must get to see Penelope

And Telemachus so if I must sail through

Dangerous

Oceans

And beaches

I’ll go where

Poseidon

Won’t reach us

And if I gotta drop another

Infant

From a wall

In an

Instant

SO WE ALL

Don’T DIE-

THEN I’LL BECOME THE

MONSTER

[anniflamma]

NOT ODY SLAPPED EURY! 😭

Just saw it on the livestream, and welp... that’s definitely something I’m including if I ever make a Luck Runs Out animatic.

[nyssasatelier]

Out of curiosity, how would you draw a harpy Odysseus? Only if you want to

Oh, hell yeah!! I've been waiting for requests like this!!! >:D

Bonus: Harpy Ody and Penelope because let's be honest if this man had wings he'd leave everyone behind and just fly to her

[rosiesramblings]

I Can't Help But Wonder

Fandom: EPIC: The Muscial

WC: 1.7k

Characters: Athena, Odysseus, Telemachus

A/N: Season's Greasons @amazingmsme ! I am your Squealing Santa this year! I've never written for EPIC before so please forgive any mistakes. That said, I am OBSESSED with the music so this was a very welcome challenge. I picked Athena, Ody, and Telemachus for your fifth prompt (A&B get into a tickle fight, C makes a teasing comment and then A&B team up to get C). I also ended up trying to see how many of the EPIC song titles I could fit in this fic. I counted ten total that I squeezed in - can you find them all? This was so fun to write - I hope you enjoy it!

Thank you so much to @cantsaythetword for organizing this year's @squealing-santa extravaganza! You did a great job, and I really appreciate you keeping the tradition alive! Now, on to the fic!

Even though it would have been nice, the world didn’t stop spinning just because Odysseus was finally home. There was still court to hold and merchant disputes to resolve, not to mention the job of explaining to the citizens of Ithaca what happened to all 108 of the Palace Suitors. With Odysseus recovering from his 20 year journey under the careful supervision of the palace physicians, Penelope hardly left his side, and that meant much of the work of actually running the country fell to Telemachus. It was a burden that he shouldered gladly - an opportunity to both prove himself as a wise and noble ruler, and to give his parents the time to fall in love with each other once again.

And how they fell. Often. In most of the rooms of the palace. Telemachus had taken to loudly clearing his throat before he entered a room after one unfortunate occasion that scarred him for life. He was tempted to flee to the ocean and beg Poseidon to follow through on the threat to gauge his eyes. 

Athena was unsympathetic to this particular plight of his - when he told her, she did this hideous snort-scream-laugh that made both his father and his mom come running, thinking there was an animal loose in the palace.

However busy Telemachus was during the day, both with his royal duties and the equally important task of not barging in on what seemed to be his parents’ best efforts to revoke his status as an only child, Telemachus always made the time to eat dinner with them. It wasn’t always easy - Telemachus often found himself red-faced and tongue-tied when his father attempted to make conversation, the right words always evading him. Some nights, Telemachus just spent the whole meal drinking in the sight of Odysseus’ face at the table. Having spent so long dreaming of his father’s homecoming, at first Telemachus found it difficult to believe that he was really there. But with each sunrise and sunset, Telemachus slowly convinced himself that his father was really, truly back. To stay.

*****

Telemachus followed the sounds of sparring through the palace halls until he found his father and his goddess. He wasn’t worried, okay, just like - appropriately concerned? It really hadn’t been long since his father had returned, and he still had a long way to go before the palace physicians granted him a clean bill of health. Sparring with a goddess definitely wasn’t on his list of approved physical activities.

Telemachus stopped in the doorway, shrouded in shadows by one of his mother’s tapestries hanging on the wall next to him. He took a breath. No one was bleeding. Both Athena and his father had wooden practice swords rather than real weapons. 

Even though it was clearly just practice, neither Athena nor Odysseus were pulling their punches. Odysseus was doggedly attacking Athena’s blind side, and Athena was swinging hard and fast, knowing that Odysseus’ endurance was shot to Hades.

Eventually, Athena swept Odysseus’ legs out from under him, and he went down hard. She smirked, panting with exertion, before offering her old friend a hand up. But Odysseus clearly wasn’t done yet, and he wasn’t above fighting dirty, either, because he laughed and flung a handful of sand at Athena’s face.

“You cheat!” She shouted, stumbling to her knees next to Odysseus on the ground. She reached for him blindly and he rolled out of the way.

“You’re the one who taught me that trick,” Odysseus laughed, springing toward Athena to grapple while she was still down.

“As a last resort against an enemy,” She said, finally blinking the sand from her eyes as she struggled for the upper hand. “Not against your goddess who is already half-blind!”

Just when it seemed that Odysseus had her in a pin, Athena reached around and drew a finger up his spine. Telemachus looked on in interest as his father let out a yell and dropped the pin immediately, trying to roll away. 

“That’s cheating!” He protested as Athena caught his ankle and dragged him back toward her.

Athena grinned, all teeth. “You’re the one who taught me that trick.”

“Bullshit!” Odysseus laughed as he tried to free his ankle and dodge Athena’s now-wiggling fingers at the same time. “If anything, you learned that from Polites. Wait!”

“I’ve done enough waiting,” Athena said, letting go of Odysseus’ ankle in favor of reaching up to squeeze his thigh, just above his knee.

His reaction was instantaneous. He let out a shriek before collapsing back to the floor, kicking out with his free leg and cackling.

“This is not fahahahAIR!” He cried as Athena pinched up and down his thigh.

“Oh gods, is that a hickey?” Athena asked, bemused. Still behind his tapestry, Telemachus made a face.

“Shuhuhuhut the fuhuhck up! I hahaven’t seen Penehehehelope in twehehenty yehehears!” Odysseus gathered his wits and latched a hand onto Athena’s upper ribs.

“Yohohou’re incohohorrigible!” Athena yelped, twisting away from Odysseus’ grip.

“Gotta mahahake up for lohohost tihihime with my looove,” Odysseus snickered.

Telemachus forgot himself. “Oh, gross,” he whined.

Athena and Odysseus both whirled toward him, and Telemachus got to witness what might best be described as the facial equivalent to a sunrise as his father recognized him, only to turn worryingly playful when the complaint registered. Athena’s face was stern, but the tips of her ears turned red and her eyes glittered with mischief.

“Telemachus of Ithaca. Is that any way to speak about your father?” Athena asked.

Telemachus turned red, both from the attention and the playful reprimand. He started edging toward the doorway to attempt an escape. “I just call it like I see it. And Father? You and mom. Are gross.”

“Odysseus, are you going to let your son speak to you that way?” Athena, the instigator, prodded.

Father cracked his knuckles and grinned. “Clearly my absence has made my son bold. The sass on this boy, ‘Thena!”

“Can’t imagine where it came from,” Athena muttered, shooting a devastating side-eye at Odysseus even as she crept toward Telemachus.

“Hmmmm. No clue,” Odysseus said as he lunged for his son.

Telemachus threw himself toward the door, but felt his father’s hand close around his wrist before he could make it through. He was yanked into his father’s chest with a yelp, and between the literal goddess of battle strategy and the veteran of 20 years, Telemachus found himself outmaneuvered. Before long, Athena held both of his hands above his head in one of her own, and Odysseus had thrown a leg over his son’s. Telemachus was well and truly pinned.

Humiliatingly, as soon as Telemachus realized his predicament, giggles started to pour out of his mouth. He yanked at his hands, not to escape, but in hopes of covering his rapidly reddening face.

“What’s this? We haven’t even started yet,” Odysseus laughed, incredulous.

“This does not bode well for you, young warrior,” Athena smiled, spidering her fingers in the air above Telemachus’ armpit.

Telemachus whined at the teasing, but couldn’t stop the flood of giggles. “Ihihihi cahahan’t hehehelp it!”

“Hm. I can’t help but wonder, if he takes after you in sensitivity,” Athena grinned at his father.

Odysseus smiled, taking the teasing gracefully. “Well, there’s an easy way to find out,” he said, and brought his wiggling fingers down on Telemachus’ tummy.

Telemachus let out a screech of desperate laughter before falling back into frantic giggles. Athena let her fingers descend into his underarm, scratching at the hollow in the most ticklish way. Telemachus shook his head back and forth frantically. He’d never been tickled by two people at once, and he was in ticklish agony.

“You know something? I sailed across the world for twenty years, and I haven’t found a single sound anywhere that is better than my son’s laughter,” his father smiled, tapping Telemachus’ nose and making him go cross-eyed.

“Ohohoho my gohohods, Dahahad, stohohohohop,” Telemachus whined, squirming now from embarrassment as well as ticklishness.

“Never,” Odysseus grinned, lighting up at the less formal slip. He gave his son’s thighs a few squeezes, relishing in the belly laughs that Telemachus gave in response. Athena switched to fluttering her fingers around Telemachus’ neck and ears, and Odysseus used one hand to bunch his son’s shirt up around his ribs.

“Tell you what. If you can tell me which monster I am, I’ll forgive your insolence,” Odysseus teased.

“Whihihihich mohohonster?”

Instead of answering, Odysseus took a comically deep breath before blowing the world’s longest raspberry right over Telemachus’ bare belly button.

Telemachus shrieked before cackling so loudly that Odysseus was shocked Penelope hadn’t come running.

“Come on, son, which monster?”

“AhahahahAHAHA - CHAHAHARYBDIS?” Telemachus could hardly breathe, let alone recall his father’s stories.

“Ooo, good guess but not quite,” Odysseus laughed. He bent down for another raspberry. “I’m a different beast.”

“AHAHAHAHAHA - SAHAHA -SCYLLAAHAHAHA?”

“Zero for two,” Athena shook her head mockingly. “Can you even call yourself a warrior of the mind?”

Tears squeezed out of the corners of Telemachus’ eyes as he gave it one final guess. “CAHAHAHALYPSO!”

“Wrong again, I’m afraid,” Odysseus smirked at his son, scribbling up and down his ribs. “The answer I was looking for was ‘The Tickle Monster.’”

If it was possible, Telemachus turned even redder. “NAHAHAHAHAHAT FAAHAHAHAHAIR!” he wailed.

“I know, I’m so mean,” Odysseus hummed, finally letting up and rubbing a soothing hand on his boy’s tummy to chase away the ghost tickles. “Lucky for you, I’m in a forgiving mood. No more monsters - I’m just a man. That can be the end of your tickly suffering for today.”

Athena let go of Telemachus’ hands and he brought them down to wrap around himself, still giggling. She got up from the floor and brushed herself off. “Don’t worry kid. Your father’s still worse than you on his back and thighs.” She grinned at Odysseus’ spluttering response and ruffled Telemachus’ hair. “Consider this as my goodbye. For today at least. Perhaps we can form an alliance and exact revenge tomorrow.”

Telemachus curled up so that his head was in his father’s lap. Odysseus’ hand began to run through his son’s hair as if he had done so a million times before. Before long, Telemachus’ eyes slipped closed. Odysseus pressed a kiss to his crown and said, “Sleep, Little Wolf. Dad loves you.”

Telemachus smiled.

[koifishhies]

I love how Poseidon’s lesson about ruthlessness turned from something he was imposing to something he was trapped in.

When Odysseus says, “we’re both suffering, why not leave this here?” he doesn’t say “I won’t,” he says “I can’t.”

I wish in six hundred strike Ody would have used the line “the next time that you dare choose not to spare” or any callback to “remember them” because it would have been such a good loop. Such a good way to say to Poseidon that there could have been another way. But instead, he’s stuck here of his own doing, with this monster of his own making, being tortured over and over again. Because ruthlessness isn’t mercy. It’s damnation.

[uniquecellest]

Erik: If that's true, could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor, that could bring me some peace? See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here?

Charles: How could you say this? I had built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. Carved it into the olive tree where we first met. A symbol of my love everlasting; Do you realize what you have asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots!

Erik: Only my husband knew that so I guess that makes him you!

Charles: Erik... 🥺🥹