#child death trigger warning

[thatsmybook]

Agatha let's people believe that she swapped her son's life for the Darkhold or sacrificed him for the Darkhold because it's less painful than the truth.

The truth is that she couldn't protect and keep her child alive. It's just that. He died young of a sickness. Every parent's worst nightmare that sometimes...boys die.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[micamicster]

Everybody gon respect the shooter

Money Trees by Kendrick Lamar vs The Wire (2002-2008)

[froody]

I do so love the ‘wronged individual comes back from the dead to seek vengeance and finds peace after the vengeance is complete’ trope in horror.

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

Re: many of the various about the Gorn or listing SNW's handling of the Gorn as one of its major problems.

Perception not matching reality, what is/is not a monster is a huge theme throughout SNW.

Ghost of Illyria – Those light monsters didn’t murder the Illyrians, they are the Illyrians and were trying to save Pike and Spock all along. Everyone (except Una ofc) learns a lesson that Illyrians can’t be lumped in with the Augments and need greater understanding Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach – Turns out that nice lovely civilization is literally torturing children. The terrorists are actually trying to save those children. The Serene Squall – Surprise the counselor is a pirate Ad Astra Per Aspera – Continues with the Illyrians deserve understanding theme. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow – That helpful reporter is actually a Romulan. Even notorious tyrant and mass murderer Khan Noonien Singh was once a scared child. Lost in Translation – Starfleet is the monster, accidentally torturing and killing a life form they didn't know existed. Under the Clock of War – Turns out the lovely ship’s doctor is actually the Butcher of J’Gal and capable of murdering someone in cold blood. War can make a monster of anyone.

Yet so many people seem to think they’re not going to pull something similar with the Gorn? Even though the show has taken time to establish that the Gorn are intelligent and have a religion?

The thing about the Gorn is that people have died - La’an’s family, Hemmer, some other members of the Enterprise crew, nearly the entire crew of the Cayuga, multiple colonies - and possibly Marie will be added to that list before the two-parter is done. That creates an environment where it’s understandable that the SNW characters would not want to have their perception that the Gorn are monsters challenged, because the harm they have caused is so personal.

It creates a really interesting conflict for the crew, because how do you find understanding, how to you fight the will for revenge, when there’s been so much pain?

I could be wrong about this being the route the SNW writers are going down, but I’m really excited to see if they do.

Posting this as a response to several earlier confessions.

[besotted-with-austen]

The Count of Monte Cristo, with Edouard’s body in his arms: what have I done! My actions led to a innocent child’s death!

The Count of Monte Cristo: I was going to kill and/or maim my enemies’ children of legal age, not those underage!

The Count of Monte Cristo: he was going to live! Of course, as an outcast forever doomed to be reviled and rejected by everyone due to his parents’ actions, but he was going to live!

The Count of Monte Cristo:

The Count of Monte Cristo: my God, I am a monster.

[meret118]

But on Tuesday, the federal Third Circuit Court of Appeals released an opinion reviving the mother’s lawsuit, allowing her case against TikTok to proceed to trial. TikTok may not have filmed the video that encouraged Nylah to hang herself, but the platform “makes choices about the content recommended and promoted to specific users,” Judge Patty Shwartz wrote in the appellate court’s opinion, “and by doing so, is engaged in its own first-party speech.”

. . .

“My best guess is that every platform that uses a recommendation algorithm that could plausibly count as expressive activity or expressive speech woke up in their general counsel’s office and said, ‘Holy Moly,'” says Leah Plunkett, faculty at Harvard Law School and author of Sharenthood, a book about protecting kids online. “If folks did not wake up [Wednesday] thinking that, they should be.”

Advocates of Section 230 have long held the broad liability shield is necessary for the internet to exist and evolve as a societal tool; if websites were responsible for monitoring the heaps of content that hundreds of millions of independent users create, they contend, lawsuits would devastate platforms’ coffers and overwhelm the judicial system.“

If you have fewer instances in which 230 applies, then platforms will be exposed to more liability, and that ultimately harms the Internet user,” says Sophia Cope, senior attorney with the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a free speech and innovation non-profit. A narrower interpretation of Section 230 immunity would make platforms “not want to host third party content, or severely limit what users can post,” Cope says, adding that the shift would amount to platforms engaging in “preemptive censorship” to protect their bottom lines.

But critics of Section 23o’s current scope say the statute has been interpreted far too leniently and that companies should at least sometimes be responsible for dangerous content their online platforms disseminate. In its monumental ruling this week, the appeals court said that when platforms curate harmful content, they—not their third-party users—may be engaging in a form of “expressive activity” for which they can be sued.

[gelu-the-babosa-multiversal]

As I promised you @guardian-of-fandoms @bluy1206

The day that Charlie learn that things could change on Griffin Rock. Right where they live, everything stays, but it still changes...

[thelaughingmagician]

Titans Annual (2008) #1

[sirfrogsworth]

No one understands more than me the feeling of wanting a loved one to live. I was contemplating letting doctors cut off my father's damned leg just to keep him around another 6 months.

But I also remember him yelling and begging for his life to be over.

Sometimes our desire for someone to live is an act of selfishness.

Dialysis was near torture for him. He would recover from one treatment only in time to start the next one.

I can't imagine putting an infant through that.

They are also talking about a transplant in the future. Which would be another grueling surgery and recovery. And apparently, the odds of success are not wonderful.

And even after that, this child might have lifelong kidney problems.

I do hope it works out and this baby turns into a healthy kid.

But I still don't know if that small chance is worth torturing an infant.

And I certainly don't think it justifies forcing births.

This is a rare outcome and in most cases, many more mothers are going to have to watch their newborns die in their arms.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

With Him, All is Well

Fandom: EPIC: The Musical Summary: Polites noticed that Odysseus was getting a message from the gods or a headache when they were in that final battle against Troy. As the medic and the king's best friend, he had to follow him to Odysseus' new hiding spot to check on him. That was where he found the baby, the teeny tiny baby in desperate need of a new parent thanks to the war waging around them. Warnings: Infant death, graphically depicted complications in childbirth, trans man pregnancy, canon divergence, mention off-screen deaths, and heavy angst Word Count: 9,701 Ship(s): Polites & Astyanax

Archive link!

A/N: So I was discontent with the amount of mpreg in this fandom (especially non-tertiary Mpreg because I wanna read about the EPIC characters and not people from other Greek sagas) so I decided that I was going to fix it myself. I decided to format it like this because of a scene in a movie called From Up on Poppy Hill where a mother of a recently deceased baby immediately takes the new infant she's brought and there's no way that baby is leaving her arms. I gave that to Polites because he is very quickly becoming my blorbo for this fandom. Make sure that you read the tags and take them seriously! I'm not joking around with these triggers. That being said, I hope that you can all still enjoy! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Polites knew that something was wrong the moment that Odysseus stumbled in battle.

It wasn’t uncommon for a soldier to lose their footing when they were scaling the sea-slick walls of a castle or trying to make their way through the slain bodies of their enemies. However, Odysseus was one of the best fighters within their entire army. He also hadn’t slipped and then steadied himself like he would have if he had just gotten a bit distracted and lost his normal grace. He had stumbled and then fallen down to his knee while gripping his head.

The moment that he had gotten back to his feet, he had turned on his heel and was heading off in a different direction than he had been heading before. Polites had been friends with Odysseus for almost their entire childhood and knew that he a relationship with the gods that not a lot of the others did. Odysseus was the chosen general of the goddess Athena and she spoke to him through his mind, sometimes sending him visions that would suplex him down into unconsciousness for a few seconds.

Polites was very worried that his friend was getting involved in something that he wouldn’t be able to get himself out of. He knew that Athena had done a lot to help them in the war effort, when she wasn’t chasing after the golden apple that had caused them to get involved in this whole mess, but there was a chance that it was another god that was interfering with Odysseus.

He wasn’t about to let his friend get into a mess without someone there to watch his back. He tightened the last of the bandages around the wounded Greek soldier’s arm that he had been working on and then sprang to his feet. He clung tight to the bag containing all of his medical supplies as he rushed through the fierce battle. He felt light on his feet and powerful within the moonlight as his own patron deity watched over him to make sure that he was not slain while trying to do his job.

He made his way up the steps, missing the spots of blood and gore from the battle that was still waging around him. He then had to pause as he tried to figure out where his friend had gone, but it was revealed to him when he heard the flapping of large wings and the angry voice of Odysseus. He took down the hall towards the room where Odysseus was, pumping his legs as fast as he could go so that he would get there before something happened.

“Ody!” Polites shouted as he opened the door to reveal what could only be a nursery. The walls and floors were the smooth marble that all of Troy had been, but in the center of the room near one of the windows was a beautifully carved wooden cradle. Inside was a series of blankets to keep the occupant warm. Odysseus was kneeling in front of the cradle with tears streaking down his face, and a massive eagle was seated on the edge of the window that looked towards the moon.

The aforementioned general pulled away from where he had been crying over the infant and turned towards where he heard the noise. “Polites, what are you doing here?” he asked as he stood up. He used the back of his hand to wipe up the tears that were still streaming from his usually bright eyes.

“I saw you have that vision and I came to check on you. What’s going on?” he asked as he stepped into the room and let the wooden door fall shut behind him.

“It does not concern you, mortal. This is a task that the King of Ithaca is going to have to face alone,” a voice said, emanating from the eagle sitting in the window. It boomed and rattled through Polites the way that the summer snap storms did when they rolled in from where the waves were lapping at the coast and threatening to swallow homes. He recognized it immediately as Zeus, the king of the gods and the most temperamental of all the Olympians.

He bowed deeply to the eagle so that nothing he did from then on would be considered to be ignorance. He had been taught from a very young age what he was supposed to do when the gods appeared before him or even when he was dealing with a very powerful spirit. His father had been very spiritual and connected to the gods, after all. “Forgive me, God King, but I have to stay with my friend. It’s not safe for him to be on his own when a war is going on.”

“Polites,” Odysseus whimpered. He looked so broken and fragile, which was something that Polites had seen a couple of times before. Usually that kind of thing had to deal with his wife and son, not the war that they were fighting. The reason that he had been chosen to be Athena’s personal general was due to the fact that he was cold and responsible when they were at war instead of being emotional the way that Achilles and even Polites was.

“What’s going on with you, my friend?” Polites asked as he placed a hand on Odysseus’ arm.

“The baby,” he gasped. “I have to kill him.”

Those words alone sent a shock of terror down his spine. He was a healer and a medic, he knew what it was to have to put someone out of their misery instead of letting them fester with a wound that was actively eating them alive. He didn’t know what kind of monster would have done something like that to a child, though, and why Odysseus would be the one that had to kill the child instead of one of their parents. “What? Why in all three realms would you have to kill a baby? Is he sick or hurt?” Polites asked.

“He’s going to grow up to become an avenger, he’s the son of Prince Hector,” Odysseus could barely get the words out around the haggard breathes that he was taking.

Polites stepped forward naturally and helped his friend into a sitting position. He stepped up to the bassinet and peered over the side at the little one inside. The baby did look a bit like Hector, in the way that every baby could look like their parents when someone was searching for the right pieces. “He’s a baby, he has the potential to become anything,” Polites argued. “The only way that he would grow up and want to avenge anything was if we left him here.”

“I tried- I tried to argue that,” Odysseus sobbed. “The God King has informed me that even if we bring the child with us or we send him far, far away, there will always be a way that he figures out who his father was and what happened to him.”

Something tugged at his heart as the memory of bloodied sheets and exhausted muscles pulled at the back of his mind. He leaned down and placed his hands underneath Astyanax so that he could pick the babe up and lean him against his body. It felt as it always did when he picked up a child, heavy and warm beyond what a normal human body felt like. He knew that this was right, that the baby belonged there. His parents may have perished in the war that was waging around them, but there were plenty of people in the world that were willing to help raise him to be a good and kind man.

“I will take him,” Polites said. “I know that Odysseus would not be able to raise him because of the involvement that he had in the war by being a king, but I had no such relation to it. I only served as a medic, making sure that my men and the citizens of the city did not die. I can bring him up be a good and kind man, I know it.”

“That is not the way that this night, and his future, will go. If the babe does not die, then he will grow to be a man that wants nothing more than to strike down all your comrades and those that you love,” Zeus spoke from the eagle once more. The storm that crashed against the stones of the palace ramped up so that strikes of lightning were the only thing illuminating the space that they occupied. “Odysseus must be the one to cast him from the wall, down onto the rocks and into the sea.”

“I will not let that happen,” Polites said, taking a step back. He reached down and tugged the blanket up around Astyanax’s face so that the chill wouldn’t get to him and wake him up. “Hush love, you must be quiet,” he whispered when he heard the whimper emanate from the baby. His heart felt like it was already bleeding within his chest at the idea of having to do so much as give the babe to someone else, much less giving it back to Odysseus or Zeus so that they could kill him. This was his child, even if he had only know Astyanax for a few moments.

“No one would be able to be a good enough parent to undo the damage that the war as unknowingly done to that child,” Zeus said from the window.

“Let me try,” Polites was practically begging. He knew that he had been rather crass with the god when he had demanded something without all the proper formality that he should have added, but he was prepared to do all the groveling and ego stroking that the gods required if it meant that he got to keep Astyanax safely where he belonged. “Please, I know that I can do it.”

He got onto his knees, though the child was still held in his hands. His head was bowed down so that his spectacles fell forward down his nose, barely hanging on. He could feel tears welling in his own eyes as he poured his heart out to the prayer that was forming. “Please, I swear that I will do everything in my power to raise this child so that he may continue his life without decimating the kings of Greece. Please, you must give me a chance.”

“You are overstepping, mortal,” Zeus replied dismissively. 

The clouds in the behind the eagle in the window parted to reveal the crystal clear night sky. The stars, constellations of men that had once been heroes as great as Polites’ best friend and as wicked as the men that they had defeated, twinkled down at him like they were the ones answering his prayers. Polites turned his head towards the bright shining moon, marveling in the beauty of the sheer white light that was pouring down from the window. She was already here, watching over him as she always was. He may not have had the same relationship with his patron as Odysseus did, but Artemis watched him as closely as she could and helped him with the protection that he had done for many young women.

The moonbeam in front of him shimmered once, twice, thrice, before it turned into the aforementioned goddess. Artemis stood tall in front of the eagle, her entire body ringed the silvery white light that had been cast by the moon moments before. Her hair was tightly woven back behind her head, a single braid composed of all the ones that kept her hair manageable when she was on a hunt with her chosen few. She wore a white chiton that flowed around her like the night wind coming off of the tide. Her bow was clasped in her hand and the antler or a deer in the other.

“I’m afraid that this is where you are wrong, Father,” Artemis spoke. Her voice was soft and harsh at the same time, like a lullaby from a parent that was beyond exhausted. It was the most reassuring thing that Polites had heard in a long time and he was happy to bask in it.

“Daughter, what do you mean?” Zeus asked.

“I promised this young man a baby a long, long time ago. I refuse to deny him that joy a second time. He deserves the child and I believe that he does have the capability to raise Astyanax to be a good person,” Artemis said. 

“Fine,” the eagle replied. With a single flap of his massive golden wings, he had risen into the night sky and disappeared. Polites only had a moment to wonder if the other soldiers down below in the battlefield had seen the god and what they thought was happening in the nursery.

Artemis turned after disappearing the items she had come with. She knelt before Polites with a small smile on her beautiful face. “Sometimes I still wish that you had been the type of person that could have joined my hunt, but this is a far better path for you and now I understand why you chose it. I hope that you enjoy your life with your child. But you must be careful, I will not be able to do anything more for you as you live on.”

“I understand, my goddess,” Polites said. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

The shimmering from before grew so intense that he had to shield his eyes to avoid being blinded by it. When he opened them again, the patron that he had dedicated so much of his early life to had disappeared. He could feel the absence of her like he had removed a blanket from himself while he was sleeping during the night. It wasn’t something that was going to hurt him or prevent him from living a long, happy life, but there was a sense of comfort that had disappeared.

“I didn’t know that you were going to join Artemis’ hunt,” Odysseus spoke up as they both rose to their feet and prepared to go back to where the rest of their comrades were.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Ody,” Polites replied. “The time after I broke up with you-know-who was really hard for me. I thought that it would be easier to try and purify myself and join the hunt, but then I found that thing out.”

“Right. Makes sense why you didn’t tell me,” Odysseus nodded in understanding. The duo walked silently down to the main court of the palace so that they were with the rest of their friends. It was easy for them to forget about the gods appearing before them and what had happened in the nursery, despite Astyanax being curled up against Polites’ chest.

---

The crew readily accepted that the baby as coming back with them, which might have been another gift from Artemis. She had said something to Polites when Odysseus was trying to calm down from the panic that hearing he was going to kill a defenseless baby had brought him. No one asked if Polites was the right person to be caring for Astyanax or if they were going to be able to support a baby when they were sailing back to Ithaca. They just immediately adjusted to it, a few of the men even arguing about who got to go on the main ship with Polites and the baby.

It was easy for them to stock up on the food that they needed for the first wing of their journey, it wasn’t like the Trojans were going to need a lot of the stores that were in the back of their army’s barracks. The problems arose when it took them a bit longer to find their way in the vast ocean than it had last time. The war had taken quite a bit of their own provisions and spoiled them due to how long they had been there, and they didn’t take as much from the Trojans as they had thought.

They spotted an island that glowed eerily, but they thought that there might be a sorcerer or cult of some kind that would give them food. Astyanax stayed back with Perimedes since that was the person that Polites trusted most outside of his best friend with his baby. On the island they found that there was food, but it was the enchanted lotus that would have trapped them there for the rest of their lives. They were able to locate another island with the help of Polites’ neverending patience and love for the world, but that had resulted in them being trapped in a cave with a very angry cyclopes.

Odysseus had Polites wrapped around his shoulders as he dragged his friend back to the ship. He wasn’t able to do it for any of the other men that had been closer to Polyphemus when he struck with his massive club, but he was relieved that he could for his best friend. Astyanax had only had his father for a few short months, after all. “Hey cyclops!” Odysseus cried, despite Athena shouting at him that he was being stupid.

Polites staggered to his feet and then vomited on their shoes. He definitely had a concussion, which was the least of what he could have gotten from a blow like that. “Ody, take me to my baby. I need my baby,” he mumbled drunkenly. 

All thoughts of telling the cyclopes who he was vanished from his mind as he focused instead on his friend. He yanked him onto the boat and then told his men to row away from the island as quickly as he could. Perhaps it would have been better if he had killed the monster instead of leaving him mutilated and unable to do what he had loved, but he couldn’t think of that as he focused on his friend.

“Get him somewhere steady and away from the light, he definitely has a concussion,” Odysseus said as he handed his friend over to Eurylochus. The other man was taller than him by almost an entire foot and broader as well, which meant that it was easy for him to scoop up the tiny man and bring him belowdecks so he could lay down. 

“M-my baby,” Polites managed to get out around the gagging. “Bring me my baby!”

“You’re sick, Po. You need to trust us, we’ll be able to take care of him properly. We’ve got a ewe who’s still making milk on board, so we’re going to be able to get him food while you’re out of it,” Eurylochus said soothingly. Odysseus was able to spy the scowl that rested on his best friend’s face at that sentiment. Polites had been nursing Astyanax since they had brought him on board, another gift from the goddess that had determined the baby was his it seemed. He was very protective of his baby during those feeding times like any parent would be, especially since it was their primary bonding time as Astyanax had been carried by another person entirely.

“Odysseus! Bring me my baby!” Polites shouted.

“I will, just lay down and be quiet while I get things sorted and get Asty to you,” he immediately replied. He should have continued to refuse his friend that desire, he knew that based on the look that Eurylochus gave him when he darted back onto the deck of the ship. Those words had brought back some fearsome, hard memories that he wanted to drive out of his mind or replace entirely.

---

Odysseus had been seventeen the last time that he heard his friend be injured. Polites was training to be a medic, so while he knew how to handle a sword and a spear in the case that he was in trouble and needed to defend himself, he didn’t spar the way that the other Ithaki men did. It wasn’t often that the other boy got involved in the kind of thing that would result in him letting out the muffled moans of pain that signaled hurt.

That had been until now, of course.

The last couple months had been really hard on them both, but especially on Polites. He had been courting a young man that was training with the army, but as all young romances did it had resulted in a breakup that left them both completely heartbroken. Polites had hidden himself away for almost a week while he was mourning the loss of a future that he had desperately wanted, only allowing Odysseus to see him. The young king hadn’t been able to spend as much time with his friend as he wanted, which was why the next bit of information had been such a shock to him.

It was revealed, a mere month after the breakup, that Polites was expecting a child. They hadn’t been shocked about it since his gender and transition had been something Odysseus was by his side for, but it was another massive step towards that place of mental and emotional anguish.

Odysseus had tried to be the best friend that he could be, but he didn’t have the type of counsel that he needed to assist his friend properly. Athena knew very little about children and seemed to be under the impression that the child would be born fully formed from Polites’ head like she had been from her own father, a misconception that had been cleared up only when Polites had started showing noticeably. Ctimene had been wrapped up in her torrent of suitors and unable to give him advice, the same also holding true for his mother since she needed to be there to save her daughter from handsy men. Penelope had been his only saving grace when it came to advice for how to deal with the situation. While she had not been pregnant herself, she had been around women and men carrying future children so was able to tell him what things to avoid and how to comfort Polites when he was crying or upset about something.

That had been until he went into labor. The four of them, Odysseus, Penelope, Ctimene, and Polites, had taken a picnic to the fields surrounding the town so that they could have some time to simply be teenagers. Odysseus had been feeling rather run off his feet as he handle being king and the main support system for his best friend. It was nice to simply sit near the olive groves, smelling the wind as it blew through the fields around them and eating the divine food that Ctimene had snuck from the kitchens. 

Polites looked uncomfortable, but he had since he had reached his third trimester. His belly was rounded with a child that would never know their father, but many of them knew that feeling and didn’t judge Polites for it. He was only able to sit without support for a couple of hours and completely unable to lay down on his back. Odysseus had moved his friend between his legs so that Polites could recline back and nap under the cool sun of the beautiful spring day that they were enjoying. 

It had lasted about an hour before he woke and groaned. It was the kind of long, drawn out sound that immediately worried the warrior behind him. He had heard people make that noise when they’d broken bones or twisted a muscle almost beyond repair. He had never heard someone make that noise when they were simply sitting and trying to rest. He immediately asked, “Po, are you alright?”

“I think that I will be soon,” he replied. He forced a smile onto his spectacled face, as though he were going to be hopeful about something very dour once more. While it was his special ability to turn anything bad into something good, it broke Odysseus’ heart to think about him doing that about his own situation when he was obviously miserable.

“What does that mean?” Ctimene asked, her brows creasing in worry the same way that Odysseus’ did. 

“I think that I’m in labor. I felt gross this morning but it kind of went away when we came up here so I thought I just had to relax. That was a contraction, though. I’ve had a couple of them while trying to nap, which is more than the practice ones I’ve had before. I’m finally going to meet my baby, which means that this is all going to be over,” Polites grinned. It made sense that he had said things were going to be better soon, he had been looking forward to the day that he was going to be able to hold his baby in his arms for months now.

“We should get you back down to the town then. None of us have the knowledge or prep to be able to help you with that,” Penelope said. She carefully began to place the dishes of olives and honeycakes and cheeses back into the basket that they had brought up with them. Ctimene helped her while Odysseus helped Polites to his feet, something that he had to do since Polites had begun to show noticeably.

They walked back down to Ithaca proper with only two contractions happening while they were walking. Penelope left to go find her siblings and father before she got in trouble for being away for too long. Ctimene ran ahead of them so that she could get the midwife and medical team taking care of Polites during his pregnancy before he arrived with Odysseus. When he did, the midwife informed him that since Odysseus did not carry the organs that would grow life, he was not permitted to enter the birthing quarters. Ctimene entered in his stead so that Polites would have someone his own age and a friend by his side while he became a parent.

The king had refused to leave, though. Most men would have busied themselves in their quarters while their nibling was born or while labors were underway, but he had been with Polites through all the most difficult things in his life and vice versa. Just because he couldn’t be within in the room, lest he scare off the goddesses of children and childbirth by having the wrong kind of energy, didn’t mean that he was going to leave Polites completely alone.

The heavy wooden doors blocked out the sound in the beginning. It was the small groans and little whimpers that it had been when he experienced the practice contractions or when they had been picnicking up on the hill. As time went on, the noises became more and more frequent until there was basically an unending tirade of them.

Odysseus had watched people come in and out of the room for hours. They fetched towels, sent soiled clothes to be laundered, and returned with even more fresh water. By the time that night fell and the labors within were truly underway, it felt like the young king was watching an army that had one foe to defeat whom was unrelenting.

He only truly grew afraid when the whimpers of pain turned to screams of anguish. He wanted to know what was going on, but he only managed to get some information after what felt like an eternity. A young assistant darted from the room with a mass of bloody sheets, which frightened Odysseus enough that he stepped in front of her, “What’s going on there? I demand that you tell me as your king.”

“The patient had a hemorrhage when he was preparing to birth the baby. We had to turn the babe within the wound and it knocked something free. Now please, Your Majesty, excuse me so that I cn get some clean linens,” the assistant said as she side stepped him and raced down the hallway.

Odysseus turned back towards the room and stepped towards it before he stopped himself. He knew that if he entered then the goddesses that watched over these kinds of proceedings might leave, which would put his friend at even more risk. He knew from his time with Polites, where they would share what they had learned during their lessons that day, that a hemorrhage meant a lot of blood lost from within the body. The idea of that happening while a babe was being rendered from someone’s womb sent a shock through him that almost had him on his knees.

He was filled with as much adrenaline as he was when he was sparring with some of the soldiers that he trained as king. He had to pace up and down the hall, only as far as the windows on the hallway wall that overlooked the courtyard in the center of the palace. He had to stay close by so that if something happened then he could be there for Polites. 

The screams turned from those of pain, sharp and painful even to those not experiencing it, to the bloodchilling shrieks of someone experiencing the most sorrow that they ever had in their entire lives, Odysseus stopped dead in his tracks. It was the kind of sound that he had only heard from his mother after Laertes had forgotten Anticlea entirely. It was the sound of someone that had lost something that they didn’t even fully grasp yet.

When the door opened and another person finally exited, he turned around to ask what was going on. He had opened his mouth for only a second before he clamped it shut. Ctimene was standing in front of him with another bloodied linen in her hands, something heavy but very, very still wrapped up within it. Her face was ashen and her eyes were somewhat closed already as she bowed her head so that tears would not fall. Behind her was Polites, spreading out on the bed.

He wold never forget that sight for as long as he lived. His oldest friend was laying supine on the bed with a sea of red spreading out from between his legs despite the fresh sheets that had been brought to him not twenty minutes ago. His skin was shining with the sweat that ran down his body in well-traced rivulets. He was shaking slightly as he clung to the hand of the assistant next to him. It took a moment for Odysseus to realize that he was crying, to the point where massive rolling sobs were contorting his body into himself. Something bloody, black and veined, was attached to his body and being tugged on by the head midwife.

“What are you doing to him?” Odysseus asked, almost angry with the medical team that was supposed to be caring for his friend.

“Ody,” Ctimene said quickly, snapping his attention back to her and away form Polites. “You have to take the baby.”

“What?” Odysseus asked, his brows knitting together with confusion as hers had hours ago during their lovely lunch.

“Ody, take the baby,” Ctimene urged. She passed the bundle of sheets over to him and it was only then that he saw the baby wrapped up within the soft cloth. Their face was peaceful, tiny mouth parted just a little bit and eyes looking up at him or past him. The thing that really told him something was wrong was their skin, which was clammy to the touch and pale as could be. The child was as white as the sheet and just as stained with blood from their parent.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice almost stolen by the screaming sobs that Polites was letting out behind them.

“The hemorrhage almost killed them both, we’re still working on getting it to not kill Po,” she replied. “I was told to take the baby away, but he needs me. You have to do this, Ody.”

“Right,” he whispered. He carried the baby carefully to his body as he stepped back, but that was apparently when his friend noticed that something was more wrong than it already had been.

“Bring me the baby! Please, I want to see my baby!” Polites screamed. He sat up as he tried to make a lurch off the bed to get to the dead child, but he was forced down by the many hands of the assistants and midwife. “Odysseus, bring me my baby!”

The screams and begging to see the child followed Odysseus as he walked through the halls of the palace with the baby cradled in his arms. He didn’t know when the soul of the newborn would properly leave their body or how much they had remembered, but he wanted them to know that their uncle had loved them very much. He was honored to be the person that brought them down to where their body would be prepared so that they could pass into the afterlife. 

He walked down to the edge of town where the funeral home rested. He knocked on the door and woke the keeper, who understood what had happened and didn’t say anything. He was led into the back where several other bodies, mostly the elderly and infirm, were being prepared for the funeral. He laid the baby down on the slab where he had been instructed to, watching as the sheet was removed and the newborn was cleaned of the remnants of birth. “Your friend had a girl, Your Majesty. Please let me know what name was supposed to be bestowed upon her for her funerary rights,” the undertaker asked. 

“I believe that a girl was supposed to be named Chloe because she was due during the spring,” he replied. He swallowed down the knot that had formed in his throat to try and avoid crying. This wasn’t even his child, and yet the screams of his best friend were haunting him no matter how hard he tried to block them out and the dead body in front of him was seared into his eyes.

“Chloe, daughter of Polites. Please, say goodbye to her for her father. I know how the midwife handles things, but her soul should know that she is loved,” the undertaker said as he stepped aside. The baby was just as pale as she had been before, but she was now tightly swaddled in a beautifully embroidered blanket from someone that had donated their child’s things once that child had finished with it, precisely for this reason. Maybe there would be a time when children did not die before they took their first breath, but this was all they could do at the present time.

“Artemis, please take her soul and protect it,” Odysseus whispered as he leaned down and kissed the baby’s head. “Your father loves you more than anyone has ever loved someone, of that I’m sure. I hope that you find respite wherever you are going.”

Polites wasn’t well after that. He spent weeks trying to recover from the birth due to how much blood he had lost. When he woke, he barely managed to eat and drink anything around the sobs that wracked him. Odysseus and Ctimene used all of the free time that they had to sit with him and care for him alongside the medical staff still tending to him. When he finally recovered enough to roam the palace, he had changed. He was more hopeful about things than he had been when he was pregnant, but there was an eternal sadness in his eyes and a hole in hs heart. He recovered more and more with every day, but he was never quite the same Polites that he had been.

---

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Perimedes asked as Odysseus took Astyanax back into his arms.

“I don’t think any of us want to find out what Po will do if he doesn’t get his baby back. Continue to sail towards home, please,” the captain replied.

“Of course, Captain,” the soldier replied quickly as he turned back to his duty at the helm of the ship.

Odysseus refused to look up and meet the eyes of the rest of his crew as he embarked on his mission once more. He could hear Athena in the back of his mind, “Odysseus, you and I both know that this is not a good plan. Polites has a concussion and several other injuries. If he tries to care for Astyanax on his own then it could lead to more peril for both of them.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But you weren’t there to see the look on his face when I had to take Chloe.”

“You are feeling this too deep to make rational decisions, Odysseus. I suggest that you take my council since your own mind cannot be trusted in this matter,” Athena replied. Her voice had long since stopped sounding as booming and imposing as the other gods that he had spoken to. Artemis had sounded like the tinkling of the water in a brook as it ran over the pebbles within the bed. Zeus’ voice had sounded, appropriately, like the cracking of thunder and the raging of waves against the shore. Athena sounded like an old friend, comforting and familiar despite the eerie roboticism about the entire thing. If he hadn’t known her to come back from war with her own wounds, he would have asked if she was one of the famous automatons that her brother made.

“He’s my friend, Athena. I’m not going to keep his child from him. I will make someone stay with him, both to tend to his wounds and to care for the baby under his instructions,” he said. They had a set of around twenty medics that had accompanied with them to the war in Troy. They had lost five of them, and the other fourteen were spread out amongst the fleet so that if someone were injured or sick then they could be tended to. However, the rest of the men knew enough about children from their own families and medical care from the basics that they had been taught while training in the army to keep the duo alive.

Athena went quiet after that. He had either offended her, something that he found himself doing more and more now that he had seen the terrors of war, or he had come up with a plan that satiated her enough to let him be. He couldn’t bring himself to care in that very moment as he slipped belowdecks and to the hammock where they had placed Polites. One of the many buckets for refuse had been placed next to him so that if he were to be sick again there was something that they could do about it. 

“Did you bring her- I mean, him?” Polites asked.

At the sound of his father’s voice, Astyanax woke up enough to gurgle and babble happily. His fat little hands grasped at the front of Odysseus’ chiton as he looked for food. It was well known around the crew how much the babe liked to comfort nurse and he hadn’t been allowed to for longer than he had since they had embarked on their journey. “I did, just like you asked. I want to make sure that you won’t drop him when I hand him over so I’m going to ask and I want a real answer. How are you feeling, old friend?” Odysseus asked.

“Well enough to hold my child. The nausea is gone, my sensitivity to light is waning every moment. Please, I know he’s hungry,” he reached his hands out for the baby.

Odysseus carefully handed Astyanax over to his parent and then sat down beside some of the other soldiers. They had lost twelve good men on the island of the cyclopes, but Odysseus couldn’t thank the gods enough that Polites had only been clipped by the club instead of squashed by it. 

---

They encountered one of the worst storms that Odysseus had ever heard of when they departed from the island of the cyclopes. Polites was still not doing well even if he was very rapidly improving, so he and Astyanax were belowdecks and huddled away from the dripping cold rain of the storm. It was the only thing that allowed him to focus instead on the walls of water that would swell from the sea and then crash down around or on top of the boats that his fleet contained. He managed to guide them through the worst of the storm until they found the home of the wind god.

He returned to his boat with a bag clutched in his hands, containing the storm that they had just battled through. He should have known that no help would come without a price, Athena had taught him that long before she had left. The minions of the wind god had come down with him and undermined his attempts to explain what was in the bag and why they couldn’t open it.

The look that Eurylochus had given the bag had made his stomach clench in horror, so he had immediately rushed belowdecks so that he could discuss the matter with his best friend. Polites was sitting in the captain’s cabin with his babe nursing happily. He looked up when he saw Odysseus and smiled easily, as if he hadn’t had that horrendous nightmare the night before they hit the storm. “Ody, you look worried. Come in and tell me what’s troubling you,” Polites immediately said.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you while you were nursing. I know that’s a very important time for you and Astyanax,” Odysseus said. He ran his thumb down the seam of the bag in his hand, just to reassure himself that it was the same one that he had been sent down from the island with.

“I’m bored and need something to take my mind off how thirsty this makes me. Please come and sit so that we can chat,” Polites said.

Odysseus would have offered to get him some more water, but they were having to provision it very severely on his specific ship. The storm had ruined the rain barrels were they normally got some of their water, the waves had saturated them with salt water enough to make even the sturdiest stomachs sick with it. Instead, he sat down on the stool across from his friend and explained what had happened to him on the island.

“We can take it in shifts! No one is going to come and try to take it from me, I’m their healer and I was injured,” Polites immediately replied. He was so chipper about it and truly believed the goodness in people, Odysseus had often wished that he could have even a portion of the eternal optimism that his friend did.

Things went on like that for a long while. Odysseus carried the bag around with him during the day as he ordered his crew where they were supposed to sail and settled disputes with rations. Polites slept with Astyanax belowdecks during those times, the baby had become rather cranky being cooped up and not walked as much as he had been during the first leg of their journey. At night, Odysseus would rest and dream of his wife and the son that he had never truly gotten to know before he left. Polites would take the wind bag and pace the deck with his son in his arms to soothe him into some semblance of sleep. 

---

They sailed for a while more before they came across another island. Odysseus told Eurylochus to go with some of the other men, mostly captains from the other boats, to scope out the island and see if it was safe. When they returned, they said that they had foud a massive palace full of beautiful and powerful women. Some of the men had stayed behind to indulge in the foods that were being offered while most of them had returned to tell of what they had found. 

Polites was up with Astyanax in his arms, having recovered from his concussion after a queasy couple of days spent belowdecks. Odysseus walked beside his friend as they made their way through the well manicured gardens that surrounded the grand palace that sat at the center of the island. A woman with long black hair, woven into a series of intricate loops and spirals upon her head, stood in the doorway of the palace. Eurylochus had been right to say that she was powerful in her magic, it radiated off of her and not just because her chiton barely hide the tattoos that were scattered across her skin.

The smile that she had on her face faltered and then changed when she turned her head towards Polites and the baby. “My, that’s not a sight that we see often,” she commented. “My name is Circe, I am queen of this land and I came to welcome you and the rest of your crew into my home.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you very much,” Polites said. “I was hoping that you’d have some scraps of cloth that we could use to make new clothing and nappies for my son here. He hasn’t had a lot while we’ve been trying to get back home.”

“We can give him something far better than scraps of cloth,” Circe replied. She spoke to a gaggle of girls behind her, their hair all drab brown and gray but their faces beautiful nonetheless. “Right, girls?”

“Of course we can! We love babies,” one of the women said. “Should we go and handle the situation like we usually do or a bit different?”

“I would like it if you specifically could go to the pig pen and retrieve Odysseus’ men. I know that boar fighting is very interesting to men, especially ones that have been to war, but it’s very important that they’re all in one place so that we can host them best,” Circe replied. She turned back to the massive crowd of men and then motioned for them to enter her guest hall.

Once they were all inside of the warm walls of her home, she clapped her hands together and they went entirely silent. “I am the sorceress Circe, queen of this island and protector of all these nymphs. I continue female life forward and halt male when it threatens them. I am allowing you to stay within my halls and take some of my provisions for your trip only because you carry the child that Artemis spoke about when she and her hunters last stayed with us. If any of you touch my daughters or hurt them in any way, then you will never stop learning a new meaning to the word pain.”

The message behind wasn’t hidden by anything. They understood that this was something new for her, she usually did away with the men that came to visit her island and they were getting special treatment because of Polites and Astyanax. Odysseus looked out over his men to make sure that they were all going to behave themselves and he wasn’t going to have to turn the other cheek and allow Circe to do whatever magic she usually performed on men.

The entire time that they stayed with the witch, the nymphs that wandered the halls of the palace were completely enamored with the babe on Polites’ lap. He allowed a few of them to hold Astyanax when they were directly in front of him, but he was the only one that cared for his son outside of someone minding the little one while he was eating. Astyanax was enamored with all of the attention that he was getting, especially by people with such shiny hair and different looking faces. He would babble at them and reach for things that they didn’t want him tugging on. He was always very happy to be back in Polites’ arms, however.

---

They reached Ithaca only a few short months after they had departed from Troy. They would have arrived a lot sooner had it not been for the times that they had to stop and stock up on something on the way there. There was a massive parade held for them where family and friends of the soldiers that he brought back flocked to their loved ones. He didn’t mind that the crowd got smaller and smaller as they moved closer to his palace. By the time that they were standing on the marble steps that led up to his home, Odysseus was flanked by his two closest friends and Astyanax in Polites’ arms.

“You’re home!” Penelope called down the steps. She flowed as elegantly as any goddess would as she made her way down the stairs, closing the short distance between the two of them. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and then peppered kisses all over his face so that he knew just how loved she was. Telemachus wasn’t far behind her, bright eyes already shining as he began to ask Odysseus questions about what his journey had been like and what his favorite things were.

His son was already ten years old, which broke his heart. He had been trapped on a boat with Astyanax for months now, so he knew about all the things that he had missed while he was away. It was uncommon for children that young to be in court because they could not control themselves when it came to making sounds. He had learned so much about the development that babies made during their first year of life, but he had also learned about some of the things that his son had definitively gone through while he had been away at war.

He had a chance to get to know Telemachus as he grew, though. Odysseus may not have had the Goddess of Wisdom whispering in his ear constantly anymore, but he was smart enough to know that Astyanax and Polites had been the only reason that they made it out of a lot of the situations they had found themselves in during their travels.

The king turned around and said, “I’ll see you both for dinner, my friend.”

“We’ll see you in a couple of hours, Uncle Odysseus,” Polites replied as he made Astyanax wave at the aforementioned man. The baby let out a shriek and then giggled at the noise and the way that Eurylochus jumped. It was his new favorite thing, finding sounds that would get the soldiers to react in strange and exciting ways. 

---

It felt like time had flown forward for Polites. He never found a love and married, but he had so many other things that kept his heart full and happy. He had his son, who had grown into something bold and wonderful. He had his best friend, his nephew, and his friends from the war that he had fought in so many years ago. He also had his work, which was partially what he was involved in now.

After Astyanax had turned two and was no longer quite so dependant on his father, Polites had stepped back in as the physician in the royal palace. He trained a lot of the medics that went to fight with the soldiers in the wars that Ithaca got involved in or the soldiers that were leant to other kingdoms so that they could get experience. He also worked with the children that Penelope and Odysseus had after they reunited with each other. It was quite the gaggle at that point, though far lower than some of the peasants in town since the royals were often too busy for those kind of activities.

Polites was running his yearly check ups on the royal children, which included Telemachus despite him being far older than the rest of his siblings. He checked their vitals, their reflexes, and then asked each of them if they were having any aches or pains. Cora always had pain in her knees and ankles, but he was able to help her feel better with an herbal remedy and some wraps that applied pressure to the joints.

Finally, his office was empty as the royal brood piled out into the hall so that they could harass someone else. He began to pick up the things that had come undone or turned into a mess while he was doing the check up. He had only just sat down at his desk with a bottle of ink and some paper to write on when he heard another knock at his door. “Come in!” he called, as he always did.

His heart soared and swelled with love when he saw that it was his beloved son. Despite Polites not having contributed to his genetics, Astyanax still managed to look a fair bit like him. They had the same crease in their brows and the twitch in their mouths right before they smiled. Astyanax had messy brown hair while Polites’ was black and kept short so it could be contained, his eyes were almost hazel while Polites’ were so brown that they were black. The way that they had looked never really bothered either of them, outside of garnering a couple of questions from the young boy about where he had come from when he was toddler aged.

“Father,” Astyanax said. He had his hands down at his sides and he was clenching them into fists before he released them once more. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Why did I never tell you what?” Polites asked. He had nightmares about this moment and how poorly he might handle it since he didn’t feel as equipped as other people were, but now he felt totally calm and sure of himself.

“Why did you never tell me how my real father died?” Astyanax asked.

It hurt to hear Hector be called the real father of the boy that he had raised for sixteen years. Polites knew that he hadn’t contributed any genetics or power in growing the babe before he came into the world, but quite literally everything after that had been a labor of his own two hands. He took a deep breath and said, “I did. I told you that he died in the war with Troy, the one where I adopted you. I didn’t tell you who killed your father because it was a war and a battle. People die in those, it had nothing to do with who was carrying the sword or who was on the other side. We had made a pact to go and defend Helen when she was in her greatest hour of need, which was when she had been kidnapped to Troy. Unfortunately, as with all wars, your father ended up being collateral,” he finally answered.

“But that’s not fair! I wanted to get to know him. I could have grown up to be a prince the way that Telemachus did but instead someone had to cut him in half or something else stupid,” Astyanax shouted back at him.

“Did you suffer for food or warmth or love when you were growing up, Asty?” Polites asked. He was trying not to let tears burn in his eyes or sobs choke his throat. This was his son, the baby that had been given to him after his dear Chloe had died before he ever got to see her. He had to fight to make sure that his son knew he was loved even when he was rejecting the very notion of it as foolish and stupid.

The teenager paused and looked down at his feet. He kicked the edge of his sandal against a crease in the floor a she shook his head. “Then why does it matter to you so much that you could have been a prince? I loved you as if you were my own, I made sure that you always knew where you had come from and where you could one day return. I never wanted you to think that someone had killed your father in cold blood or that I had stolen you away from your cradle. I took you in because I loved you the moment that I saw you. I’m sorry that I could never give you a kingdom, but I tried to make sure that your life was comfortable and good anyway.”

Astyanax was quiet for a while longer. He let out a huff through his nose and then sat down on the marble floor in front of Polites. He leaned his head against his adoptive father’s lap, to which Polites immediately began to weave hs fingers through the dark mop of hair on his head. “I know. I’m sorry for calling someone else my real dad. You’re the best person that a parent could ask for. I think I was just mad because war is stupid. People shouldn’t have to stab each other to get more than what they need.”

“Greet the world with open arms,” Polites said, as he often had throughout his son’s life. “I agree with you about war. That was why I became a medic, so that I could help save people instead of hurting them.”

“Like you saved me,” Astyanax said. “Thank you, Dad. I really do love it here. And with you.”

“You’re allowed to have your feelings and I can’t police what those are or aren’t. I’m glad that you came and talked to me before you did something rash that got a lot of people hurt,” Polites said. He leaned down and kissed the top of his son’s head as they lapsed back into the gentle silence that their evenings always had. Zeus had told Odysseus that Astyanax would become an avenger if he was allowed to live, but Artemis had trusted Polites to nip that in the bud. He was fairly certain that he had done more than that, helping spread the feelings out and reveal what they had actually been under the surface.

[ninadove]

Someone take my phone away from me

[allthecanadianpolitics]

WARNING: This story contains extremely disturbing details of child abuse.

First Nations leaders in British Columbia are calling for the resignation of the children's minister and an overhaul of the foster system after a horrific case involving torture, starvation and other abuse that culminated in the beating death of an 11-year-old boy.

A provincial court judge in Chilliwack, B.C., earlier this month sentenced a man and woman to 10 years in prison after they pleaded guilty to the aggravated assault and manslaughter of the fostered First Nations boy and the aggravated assault of his sister, aged eight.

The name of the First Nation, its location and the names of all parties were banned by the courts to protect the identity of the children involved in the case.

Court documents show the B.C. Ministry of Children and Family Development's last visit to the Indigenous couple's home took place seven months before the boy was beaten to death in 2021 by the woman, who is related to the children's biological mother. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[duckandash]

PROMPT 008 - DENOUEMENTS

The story's beginning stays the same even if everything diverges after a point.

Maybe Axel eventually finds people who get him. Maybe he finds somewhere that he can be seen, appreciated, and encouraged to flourish. Maybe he manages to find a job that he thoroughly enjoys. It's one that allows him to use all of his intellect and take credit for it instead of putting in all of the work just for someone else to put their name on top of it. The whole thing is enough to have those shoulders relaxed and the tense face smiling more than it ever did back home.

It's enough to get the attention of a guy who likes that smile and ends up liking the rest of Axel, too. A guy who is more than happy to listen to his rambling and reassure him when the dark thoughts from his past that still have deep claws in him get too loud. A guy who sees that Axel is someone worth loving and is willing to give him everything he's got to help him see that. A guy who is so in this for the long haul that they eventually make it official. Years after that, they even bring more unconditional love into their lives. Another child who was never given the chance to be shown the love of a family with time, patience, and attention.

Axel gives it to him, both of them. And their friends. And even throws it into his job. Because this Axel has been given the love he deserves and now can properly accept and give it in turn.

-

The other path isn't that lucky.

The other path leads him further and further down the path of being forgotten. Lost in obscurity, he lets the ditch he'd dug himself into when trying to get out of another swallow him whole. No friends, no contact with family. Coworkers, bosses and clients are the only real sources of communication he has regularly, and that's because it's necessary. All of his work, all of his research done and handed off to someone else who'll add it to their dissertation or breakthrough think piece which may or may not even have him as a footnote. He doesn't care. He's just here to help and keep on moving. He doesn't matter to anyone, not even himself.

That's why when the accident happened, no one was there to visit him. He doesn't even have anyone down as an In Case of Emergency contact. It's been so long since he's had contact with his family that it takes a while for them to be found and called.

And by the time they manage to squeeze a few hours to go see him?

He's already gone.

[kyeterna]

"Oh General, what did you witness the night of the tragedy?

Oh General, could you have even known that your inability to act doomed the world?"

The Army of the Primordial Flame, the only strictly military guild- working directly under the Fourth Overseer, has been known for its expansionist expeditions throughout the world. Expedition "AURORA" was one like many. To lead such an expedition means your strategic skill has been acknowledged by the Fourth Overseer himself, the greatest honour. Gale was never really religious, he didn't care much about the Fourth's vision of the world. He just liked the prestige and importance that came with his role. And he was good at it.

The expedition was successful, only taking 4 months with no casualties. Back at Farport, he had managed to return with all 560 soldiers and mercenaries contracted from the Pharus Guild alive. Their trip back to Arkhan would have taken 3 days by boat. As Volkan had warned him; "It would be the best course of action, after all I have good reason to believe you might get attacked by enemy guilds on your way back. Keep an eye out for ambushes". The god couldn't accompany them as he had other matters to attend to. But Gale had other plans. His wife had given birth to their first kid just 2 months prior and his home, Spithol, was less than a day away. Sure it was the opposite direction than their destination, but surely it should be safe. There was no way any other guilds could have possibly known about the detour. And he missed his family so much.

They were at the town gates by evening. A joyous occasion, worthy of festivities. By night an entire festival was ready for both the civilians and the soldiers to enjoy. A celebration of the success and safe return. In honour of the hero of the town Gale. What later turned into the event known as the Unyielding Flame Massarce.

After a few hours of time with his family, plenty of food and a couple of drinks, movement away from the venue caught Gale's eye. A little drunk but still aware enough of his surroundings he ventured deeper into the dark alleyways of the town. At that point people were either fast asleep in their houses or still celebrating at the centre of the town, so the only light by now was coming from the clear starlit sky. A moment of peaceful quiet. The general slowly breathed in. The scent of the night humidity and- gunpowder?

What a terrible time to be drunk. After investigation, as much as one can investigate when under the influence, he realised that most of the town seemed to have been trapped. But no sign of culprits- everyone he had seen up to that point were people he knew. None of them could have done this, right? He ran to the town walls, towards the gates. Frozen shut via an impenetrable substance. Upon further investigation he came to the grim realisation that they were all trapped inside for good. As he looked for potential suspects or ways out if the worst was to happen he came across one of the people contracted from the Pharus guild. "We are in trouble- have you seen anyone suspicious around town?". A pause. It was too dark for Gale to read that man's expression. "No- not that I am aware-" "You need to warn the rest of the crew, we have to find a way to evacuate everyone" another pause. "Sure".

After minutes pass with no news from the crew or any results from his investigation, he headed towards the centre himself. And in the distance, in the sky, he could clearly see smoke. Mind racing he ran towards the festival. Tripping on his way back- what a terrible time to be drunk- he came across that same mercenary holding a torch. Making eye contact they both froze. Adam- he thinks that was his name, stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. Gale tightened the grip on his sword. He thought he understood what was happening in front of him. He thought for a moment that of course this was happening. He thought of killing the man in front of him. But he hesitated. At a standstill he couldn't help but think how much he just wanted to see his wife and daughter. The sound of explosions and loud screaming brought him back to reality. And he ran towards his home. Letting the man go.

It didn't take long for the fire to spread throughout the city. It didn't take long for the laughter of joy from the festivities to be turned into screams for help. It didn't take long for the smoke to overtake all the senses. Chaos and confusion spread. Gale tried directing his crew to help the people calm down- but where would they go? There was no escape, none that he could find. It didn't take long till the men in his crew who weren't consumed by the flames starting fighting each other. And all Gale could think about at that moment was how badly he wished to see his wife and daughter. He ran and ran, burnt corpses surrounding him. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh slowly choking him. His armour suffocating him, oh how badly he wanted to get rid of it. But it was his only protection from the fire. And he ran as towering flames grazed him. And he ran tripping on collapsed people, some still conscious enough to scream in pain. Maybe they were all cursing him at that moment. But all he could think about was how badly he wished to see his wife and daughter.

When he finally arrived at his home, it was completely ablaze. "Lyn?!" He shouted, choking on some of the smoke. No response. He jumped inside and looked around. He couldn't see anything but fire and smoke. Parts of the roof had already collapsed. And as he walked forward the floor beneath him crumbled and he fell in the basement, which had been untouched from the fire. As he was attempting to stand up again more debris fell on him, knocking him unconscious.

Hours passed before he finally got up to the first light of dawn. He slowly stood up, and made his way upstairs. By now his house had been completely burnt. Looking outside there were still fires burning some of the houses but he couldn't hear anything or anyone else. He walked further inside the house. A burnt corpse hunched over the what used to be a cradle. Ah. He sat there for what felt like ages, staring at the gruesome sight in front of him. He got to live out of sheer dumb luck. Just dumb luck.

When evening started approaching he just walked out. Very few fires were still burning in the distance, only some smoke now visible. He started looking around the streets and houses for anyone alive. He made sure to count them all. 2, 5, 10, 27, 42, 75, 100, 341, 784, and the number kept growing, and growing. People he could no longer recognise, people he had grown up with, people he had fought with, people he had so horribly failed. 1207 civilians dead. 558 soldiers dead. 1 missing person. Only survivor- Gale himself. By night he reached the gates of the town. Still completely frozen shut. And so he dug.

What followed after was a haze. He just walked for days, dwelling on that night. Ways he could have prevented it, ways it could have been better. Plagued by images of that night, all the victims. Why did they have to die. Why did he have to live.

A chuckle echoed in his ears. He looked up and saw a figure of legend. At least he thought he saw Her. It had to be. White robe, blindfold, the three halos decorating Her head, the pale hair and complexion. The doting Mother, Creation, Amatheia. She was smiling at the man. A smile that invoked fear. She reached Her hand out. The Witness of the end, of fates worse than death. And the verdict was decided.

================================================

Have some stills I like

(for the previous one i like both cleaned up and sketch versions a lot)

[zehecatl]

YOMAWARI FRANCHISE IS ON SALE, PLEASE CHECK OUT YOMAWARI!

spooky game where you are Tiny Girl in the most haunted ass japanese town, and you have to go outside at night and explore it. it's not overly spooky, though it also does love to spook you, and it's very reminiscent of the rpgmaker horror games

each entry is standalone! Night Alone is the first one, Midnight Shadows is the second one (and my favourite, don't worry about the fact i haven't played the others yet, shhh) and Lost In The Dark is the third one

i would definitely advise checking out some trigger warnings first (and i'll put some in the tags, so i'm also avoiding spoilers), since this is horror, and no one is safe, but also, if you like this type of stuff.. check it out!! they're good games!! and look at how cheap the first two are!!!! how can you say no!!!