#epic fanfic

[gaiaseyes451]

I am sooooo excited that I can finally talk about this project! Y’all this thing is truly epic!

It is an absolutely massive collaboration between 75 amazing writers and artists. It is fully written (that’s right, no chance of abandonment here!) and posting two chapters a week!

I contributed to Volume 3 (coming in a few months) but the entire story is wonderful and I can’t wait to read (and reread) right along with everyone!

The GOAD Epic Goblins present - The Serpent and The Owl Volume 0 - The World I Created - Chapter 1

Thank you @quona for this gorgeous artwork!!

Chapter written by @kotias

As per the teaser video shared on Saturday on our subreddit...

We made it.

February 19th, 2024: launch date of the epic fic project.

January 19th, 2025: the publishing of the epic fic, named The Serpent and the Owl, starts.

11 months in the making. Wow.

Total amount of people who wrote or made art for this epic fic: 

69 writers and artists. 

Nice.

Total amount of people involved in the project: 

75 people, including:

35 writers

31 artists

4 creators who took on both writing and art

5 betas (+3 writers and 1 artist who took on the task)

1 podficcer

This is the first part of a series in 7 parts.

Expect a new chapter of this epic fic every Wednesday and Sunday for the next 6 months.

And I promise: there is a happy ending to this story. Just not quite yet.

When I launched this crazy idea, based on Soggy’s request on the GOAD Writers Guild subreddit, I would never have thought it would turn into this.

Hell, part of me didn’t believe the project would succeed. 

Did I wish very hard it would? Yes, of course.

Was I fully convinced it would? No. With such an endeavour, with so many people involved, and a full narration to develop with dozens of participants, I had no way of being certain of it.

And yet, look at this: it’s ready, after 11 months, to be shown to this subreddit and to the Good Omens fandom.

I cannot begin to find the right words to express how I'm feeling as well. This feels a little surreal; we managed to make something cohesive, might I even say a good story, with so many people involved.

Thank you all Epic Goblins so much for being such amazing people to work with ❤️

I have to say... seeing the first bits of conversations that we had on this project, and remembering how everyone was confused and scared at first, throwing ideas left and right and trying to even start to having something coherent and cohesive...

We're finally there, and it's beautiful and glorious and it's thanks to everyone and.... ❤️

Enormous thank you to @theravenmuse for your undying support during this entire endeavour. It took months, but hell, thank you for holding the fort when I wasn't able to, and for this gorgeous spreadsheet that helped us keep track of EVERYTHING.

My most sincere thanks to my dear lieutenants and Art General: @quona @eybefioro @whatareyou42 @gaiaseyes451 @theonewiththeshippinggoogles

You have all done amazingly to keep the teams together, to wrangle them, whether I was here or not, and working so hard to find a cohesion within each team and a narrative direction for each story that was created within the greater narration.

And of course, thank you to everybody involved.

Thank you for trusting me and for following me here. And ENORMOUS thank you to our betas, who have been phenomenal: ModernDayKlutz, DBacklot, WiblyWoblyTimeyWimey, GlitteringRock, ireallyneedmoretea, itsscottiesstark, TheGaroMask, Abaddon Sahar, cordsycords, without whom this fic would not have gotten to the quality it has reached today.

I love you all, thank you all so much for embarking in this crazy adventure with me. We’re done. And we did remarkably well. I am very honoured of having been given your trust, all of you.

I won’t lie, I've been crying from the emotion quite a bit in the last couple of months, and got very teary eyed writing this blurb. :')

Please enjoy the very first chapter to this epic fic project, starting with Volume 0: The World I Created, Ch.1: Bringing upon the Dawn

Word count: 3418 words

Tags (for the whole fic): Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Crowley is a Singularity, Aziraphale is an bird alien, Slow Burn, Porn With Worldbuilding, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Major character death, but… Reincarnation AU, Eventual Happy Ending, not in this part though, Inappropriate use of astronomy, Original People, Monsterfucker Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cloaca, Hemipenes, Crowley is a naga, Crowley is a Giant Snake, Star Snake, This is an epic, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Oral Sex, Crowley's enemy is Life itself, War, Intercelestial War,Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Communicating (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Down Bad (Good Omens)

TW/CW (for this chapter): blood, death, war

Summary:

~This story starts, as it will end, in the stars.~

Crawly is a singularity, born in the Empty and thriving in it, until the day Life settles into the universe. As that happens, she descends onto the planets in her vicinity.

Several centuries, maybe even millennia, pass; Crawly got integrated enough in the society of a planet that she (I'll go with she/her pronouns) is the long-standing Queen and main deity of that planet.

Aziraphale comes as a scientist from another planet that hers made an agreement with; thus begins their relationship. Crawly slowly comes to terms with her feelings with Aziraphale as their story evolves and their travels through the galaxy continue.

Excerpt:

Of all the places that Jala could have expected to find the Mother of All Suns, the cemetery of a remote village wasn’t her immediate thought; and yet, when she saw Her, there was no possible doubt.

A statue was standing on a pedestal, holding a sword in front of her legs. She had her eyes closed peacefully, her eternal beauty remained in her stone flesh, a lone ruby shining on her forehead like a diadem. Her hair fell like a veil from her head over her shoulders, arms and waist, circling her entirely.

Jala was certain of one thing; anybody who didn’t need her presence or believe in her would have passed this statue by without much thought, or might have just recognised the shape of the statue as an ancient former Queen of the planet. Jala however remained in awe before it for a very long time, pulled in by its magnitude.

She eventually closed the distance between them, climbing on the pedestal and rising to meet her gaze, raising a hand to stroke the stone cheek. “How long we have looked for you, my Queen,” she whispered, a tear breaking from her eye and trickling down her face. “How desperately we craved your presence.”

The statue remained lifeless between her fingers, but Jala smiled. The end was nigh.

Keep reading here!

~Kotias

[xfilesinamajor]

Commission by the incredible @kazimir29 of Eurylochus and Ctimene, which I requested partly to accompany my short Ctimene fic "Trapped" but mostly because her art is beautiful and Eury's my favorite.

[mer-acle]

Little Wolf pre-War fluff

*Ithaca, a few months before the war. Penelope came and interrupted Athena's and Odysseus' training bc of important King stuff. She had Telemachus with her. Odysseus said "Athena, you can watch him for a minute, right?". Athena just nodded. She's standing by a tree now, watching the small human take some unsteady steps. He stumbles, and she squats down to catch him. He grins at her.*

Tel: Theee-ah

Athena, vaguely amused: Yeah, something like that.

*He waddles around her toward her wings spread behind her for balance*

Athena: No. Fates, what is it with children and the wings? Telemachus, I said no.

*She folds them behind her. Telemachus looks at her, big eyes filling with tears. He points at the wings accusingly.

Tel, confused: Biiird!

Athena, firm: No, you cannot touch the bird.

*His lip quivers. Athena looks around to where Odysseus and Penelope are still talking, then back to the child that is about to start crying. She sighs*

Athena: It's those moments when I remember you are related to my brother Hermes.

*She spreads her wing again. Telemachus giggles with joy, making for it so fast he falls on the grass. Athena waits for a moment, seeing if he's hurt, then bites back a grin and covers him with her wing. A slightly softened cheerful shriek and giggle sounds from under it. Athena lifts it up, looking at the laughing child.*

Tel: -a-boooooo

Athena: Peek-a-boo? (hums) You are a fascinating little creature.

*She covers him with her wing again and he giggles happily. When she lifts it, he makes a chirping sound.*

Athena: That is not the sound an owl makes.

*She considers for a second, then produces a soft hooting sound through her hands.*

Athena: That's a burrowing owl.

Tel: Hoooo!

Athena, totally not caring about the child, totally not having chosen an owl that doesn't screech so he won't be scared, nu-uh, no sirreee: Yeah. Hoo.

Tel: A-booo?

*Athena sighs, then covers him with her wing again*

-----

Odysseus, later: You are better with kids than I thought.

Athena: Son of Laertes, you are this close to being sent for a run around the whole island.

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

'friends in higher places' au masterlist

tumblr posts:

the thread that started it all - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

dinner scene - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 (is planned)

poseidon snippets (not chronological) - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (i have an idea)

other bits - potential future thoughts | a potential angsty idea |

ao3:

chapter 1 | chapter 2 (coming soon?) |

[yourlokalescholar]

Astyanax lives AU doodles!

[gingermintpepper]

“Pallas Athena,” he greets softly. There is no affection in his voice, barely any intonation save for stiff, long-practiced neutrality. He continues wringing the water from his hair like she’s not intruding upon the sanctity of his purification ritual, “Have you already had your fill of victory?” 

His calmness is… off-putting. Unnatural. Like the stillness of the sky before a horrible storm. She’s grown accustomed to his icy silences, the dark looks thrown when their father isn’t watching, the barely restrained disgust when he’s forced to hear her speak of her tactics and methods for obtaining unquestioned victory. She knows Apollo isn’t weak-stomached - of all their kin, he is perhaps the most practiced in death - but he is not a warrior. He finds no glory in death-bringing, no meaning in the intricacy of war-work. For him, it is a job, a task that must be completed for the continued equilibrium of the mortal world. It means he can still be hurt by war’s savagery. And he had been hurt. Repeatedly. She had personally seen to it. No matter how good he was at his work, Phoebus Apollo was still an emotional creature. Not weak-stomached perhaps, but still soft. Tender. 

“I’ve something important to discuss.” 

He’s languid when he unpins the remaining length of his hair. It falls in heavy, swirling waves, rich gold which threatens to drag upon the ground if he hadn’t deftly grabbed the ends and tied them round his thigh. “I know you have little concept of ceremony but this is a bit ridiculous don’t you think?”

His dark hand reaches for one of the vases of oil stacked neatly on a little jut of rock that acts as a ledge. Athena intercepts him, standing a little taller to convey her graveness. “It’s very important. I only need a moment of your time.” 

She expects him to sigh, to cross his arms petulantly over his thin chest and complain that the war is over and so is her access to him every hour of every day. She expects to have to remind him that the battle isn’t finished ‘til the Acheans have vacated Trojan soil, to coax him from the little solitary cave of mourning he’s obviously built himself so he can see his job to its total completion. 

Instead, she gets another look. Calm. Dark. Horrible.

Apollo does not sigh, but it is a very near thing. “A moment and nothing more.” 

“The Acheans will begin their preparations to return soon,” she takes hold of the vase and carefully passes it to him. It smells saccharine, like rosewater or something similar. Like perfume to hide the stench of death. “I need your word that you will not hinder them on their journeys.” 

Their fingers brush as Apollo accepts her offering. It’s always odd the way his warmth radiates past all logical barriers. Athena can feel the chill of the water alongside the heat of his fingertips. Somehow, it is the cold that lingers despite all his warmth. “I do not make impossible promises, Athena. I want Neoptolemus,” he says. She stops as though struck. “The rest will have my blessing if they but ask.” 

“Phoebus— “

His eyes are like congealed blood when he looks at her, dark and tar-like upon an altar’s surface. “I want Neoptolemus. And I will have him.” 

How similar his tone has become to Father’s in these long years acting as his mouthpiece! Though his words are soft, the finality in his voice brooks no argument. How easy it is for her heart to soar at the prospect of a fight. Her warrior’s mien shutters all her feelings away like she’d never taken her helmet off. Her clawed finger pokes harshly into his chest, he’s marble hard under her touch. “You already had Achilles. You’ve no right to his son.” 

She regrets the words the moment they leave her lips. A stupid mistake; a feint when she should have dodged altogether. 

Apollo’s face goes slack and still. Serene, one would say, if they were a fool who had never before seen the shape of his wrath. He stands to his full height, broad shouldered, the flickering ends of his hair the only signifier of his displeasure, “Who said a thing about Achilles?” She huffs but does not answer, unsure of where his anger lies if not at the foot of Pelides. “Polites. Eurypylus. Priam. Helenus’ jailor. Andromache’s conqueror. If it weren’t Odysseus’ lot, Neoptolemus would have thrown Scamandrius from the tops of the balcony himself. What other reasons do I need?”

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Fallen And Can't Get Up"

[Circe x gn!reader]

Masterlist

Warnings: descriptions of a fever, fluff

Word Count: 908 words

A/N: For a friend. I don't write women very often-or at all- but this was a special case.

The floor feels cold against your cheek as you lie there, uncomfortably aware of just how much of a mess you are. One moment you were trying to get up, a simple task you’d done a thousand times before, and the next moment you’re lying flat on your back in the middle of Circe’s grand hall.

You shift slightly, trying to push yourself up, but your body protests, the fever making you weak. Everything is hazy—your head feels stuffed like you're underwater, and the pounding in your skull threatens to drown you.

Before you can attempt another feeble movement, you hear the sound of soft footsteps approaching. You blink as a shadow falls over you, and there, standing above you, is Circe. Her expression is a mixture of concern and mild amusement, though there's no cruelty in her gaze—only fondness.

“Are you quite alright, Lovely?” She asks in that beautiful voice of hers. Dear gods...

You manage a weak smile, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “I… I think I have a fever," you murmur.

She tilts her head, studying you with a strangely comforting gaze. Her gaze sweeps over you, and she doesn’t seem in a hurry to look away, as though she's trying to determine just how sick you really are. You feel your cheeks flush, and not just from the fever.

“That much is obvious,” Circe says. “You are burning with fever, and your limbs seem to have lost their strength entirely.” She kneels beside you, her fingers lightly trace your brow, brushing away the sweat. “Why didn’t you call for help?” Her voice holds a reprimand, but there’s a certain tenderness there too. “Foolishness, to let yourself suffer alone.”

You let out a weak laugh. “I thought I’d just… rest for a bit. But I guess my body had other plans.”

Circe’s smile deepens. Her presence is all-encompassing, like a steady, calming force. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm. The coolness of her touch contrasts sharply with the feverish heat of your skin, and for a moment, you swear you can almost feel the fever retreating from the spot where she touches you,

“I’ll help you to the couch,” Circe offers.

You try to protest, but even the effort feels draining. “I... I can manage...”

But Circe doesn’t seem to be listening. Before you can protest further, she lifts you with ease, her arms cradling you as though you weigh nothing. It’s almost disorienting. Her hands move like silk, smoothing your hair, keeping you from wobbling too much, and with an almost effortless grace, she guides you to a plush chaise lounge near the windows.

She settles you gently onto the soft cushions, adjusting the blankets around you as if making sure you’re safe. You can feel her lingering close, her gaze still fixed on you. There's something in her expression now—something soft, almost affectionate, but the power she holds in her presence is undeniable. It's strange, how soothing her gaze can be, how it makes you feel both small and incredibly safe at the same time.

“There,” Circe says, smoothing the covers over you. “Comfortable?”

You close your eyes, hoping that the world will stop spinning for a moment. Your breath is still shallow, your throat burning like you’ve swallowed fire, and it takes all your strength to keep from shivering.

Circe notices immediately. “You’re trembling,” she observes, sitting down next to you. She lifts her hand to your forehead once more, her fingers cold, but this time, she lingers there longer, almost as if drawing the heat from you. The sensation is strange but oddly calming.

“Rest, now,” she says, her voice low and coaxing. “You need only sleep and let your body heal. I will stay with you.”

You open your eyes to look at her, suddenly aware of how close she is. Her presence is warm, even though the coolness of her skin against yours contrasts sharply with your fevered body. You feel her magic, subtle yet potent, swirling around you, as though it’s creating a protective barrier between you and the illness, though you can’t quite make sense of it.

“Stay…?” you repeat, your voice a little breathless.

“Of course,” she replies simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. She smiles softly, her eyes softening with something that might be affection—or something far more dangerous, something unreadable. “I won’t leave you, not when you need me.”

You blink up at her, feeling a flutter in your chest. The exhaustion and fever make everything seem surreal, but somehow, you’re not frightened. With Circe here, there’s a quiet comfort that starts to settle deep inside you, like an unspoken promise. Her presence soothes you, wraps you in warmth, even as your body continues to fight off the sickness.

Circe leans down closer, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. Her touch is soft, but there's a certain possessiveness to it, a feeling that she’s claiming you in this small, quiet moment.

“You need not apologize for your weakness,” Circe says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even the strongest fall ill sometimes. It is no shame.”

You can barely summon the energy to speak, but you manage a faint smile, your eyes heavy with sleep. “I… I didn’t think I’d fall this hard,” you whisper with a half-hearted chuckle.

She leans in close, her breath warm against your ear as she speaks in a low, gentle tone. “You’ll fall again, I’m certain of it. And next time… I’ll be here.”

Oh, yeah, you were falling again.

[roxasbooth]

There was more demand for the EPIC: The Musical AU where Poseidon starts to grow fond of Telemachus

You ask and you shall receive 👀

Also I'm naming this AU "Graced by The Sea" and will tag it as such-

So! Here's more of it!

——————————

•Poseidon is walking around Ithaca's shores in disguise, as a young Telemachus happens to stumble upon him:

The silence got a bit long as the young boy and the sea god stared at each other, Telemachus with curiosity and Poseidon with annoyance.

Telemachus finally broke the silence: "Hello mister, are you also waiting for your family to return from the sea?"

Poseidon: "Errr..."

Telemachus: "It's fine if you don't want to tell me...but I know who you're waiting for would come back eventually, just as my dad will!"

Poseidon, for some reason, couldn't contain his newfound curiosity towards this child: "Who is your father, boy?"

The kid answered: "The king of Ithaca, of course!"

Poseidon stared at the child silently. Emotions were raging inside of his head like a whirlpool. This was...the son of Odysseus? The man who'd blinded his child?

Revenge was an option, and it was the one most prominent. Why shouldn't he get his very much deserved revenge right there and at this moment? He could just—

"Are you waiting for your son, mister?" The kid tugged at his robe.

Poseidon's heartbeat picked up. This was the perfect opportunity, the perfect time, and yet...

"...Perhaps." He simply answered.

"Well," the child gave him a smile, "I'm sure he'd be back before you know it!"

Poseidon nodded slightly, if that even was a nod.

"I need to return now, my mom would be worried. Goodbye, mister!" The young boy waved at him and then ran off.

Poseidon just stood there, staring at the young boy who was running back home.

The sea was then restless, and it remained as such for the rest of that day.

[rin-sith]

Aight, how about I do some advertising for my (One-sided!!) Poseidon -> Odysseus fanfic on Ao3 by sharing with y'all this quote from chapter 2 that I got like multiple comments about ... in hindsight I can actually see why 👀💕

Release me, Poseidon begged Odysseus meanwhile, cradling his island as though it were the king himself. Or take me. Have me. Put me back together. Undo what you did to me or be mine for all eternity. But do not turn your back on me. Hear me. Hear me!

[grape-jucie-dog]

In the lovely words of Teagan Earley, aka, TE/MO: WOAH, that got DARK.

(Basically, TW because this got darker than I thought.)

Imagine right.

You're Athena, and you've just been hit by lightning because Zeus is a sore loser. You're in Apollo's infirmary, and you're still recovering from the shock and the pain. You know it's going to take a long time to heal, but eventually you'll be fine.

But in the moment, nothing is fine at all. You're dealing with a fluctuating fever and shivers, and Apollo had to leave for something important. You're left completely alone with your thoughts and your regrets, praying that the friend you left behind is doing alright, and that his son is holding up okay without you to help him.

You feel waves and waves of nausea pass through you, and the lightning scars you've received from Zeus are still burning your skin, not to mention the burns. Your body is basically on fire, and the fever is giving you hallucinations and making you feel even worse than you already feel. The heat is making it hard to breathe, and you can't sit up because of how much pain you're in. You're drowning in your own ichor, struggling to get the air you need in, choking, but unable to die from it.

Your thoughts are screaming at you, telling you how weak you are, how you can just power through the overwhelming amount of heat you feel. Your mind is your worst enemy, playing the deafening sound of thunder over and over and over again in your head, telling you to just get over it. Put your emotions aside, that's what you told him, wasn't it?

But you can't. You can't even cry, not with the ichor bubbling in your throat. Silent tears run down your face, as you try to scream for help, desperately knowing you need it. But you can't. The rare moment you admit you need help, you can't even call for it.

Apollo had sensed something was wrong, but had been unable to get to you sooner. He finds you passed out in his infirmary, still choking, still crying, still burning.

[jennasepicvideos]

Obviously I will live end die on the hill of Ody&Pen, but this is still one of my favorite ships to read in Epic fanfiction😚🪭

[witless-winion1]

guys I just realized something silly

This might just be my phone but if you type “hmmm”, depending on the length of the m’s you get different emojis. Like the emoji’s are trying to figure out what kind of hmmm it is.

So strange, isn’t it

shoutout to @hyperfixationjunkie for allowing me to slam into her window like a flightless bird launched from a catapult on a regular basis. Love ya darlin

[mer-acle]

Zeus' eldest

Ares, Athena and Hephaestus

This is for @evermorecatra and my AU, which I'm going to some up like this: Fighting to be Loved is a walk in the park in comparison. We're having plenty of fun lol

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Look I’ll think about this more when I’m awake and write a more detailed post then, but hear me out, Athena “died” at the end of ‘God Games’ and her godly power merged with Odysseus due to a) her last wish being to save him, and b) she used quick thought to give herself time to accept her impending death, thus why Odysseus survived Poseidon with his unexplained Dues Ex Machina, but now Odysseus (who sorta kinda merged with Athena) is considered the son of Metis and, as the prophecy given before Athena was born says, he will overthrow Zeus.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! Here's another Epic au that's be rattling around in my brain! Enjoy! :D

(Also, I'll probably have one or two more Epic au's before I switch back to my usual Merlin au's.)

This premise of this au is kind of similar to my last one, but a also very different different. In this au, when mortals interact with gods or monsters, they're left with some sort of marker, as a way to show other mortals that they have gotten the attention of a powerful entity, whether for good reasons or terrible ones.

Most mortals never encounter any of the gods, so they don't have to worry about any marks, but for people who have been the subject of a god's attention or ire, they're left with a permanent reminder of it. These marks are either physical, showing up on the person's body, or take the form of some ability granted to the mortal. However, these marks can be either a blessing or a curse.

So, in this au, Odysseus has had a physical marker of his connection to Athena since a young age. Ever since he was a boy, his eyes almost glowed at night, his gaze far sharper than any humans' should be. At times, his neck could turn to a far greater degree than what was physically possible, allowing for him to quickly catch enemies attempting to sneak up on him from behind. He keeps these abilities for his entire life, even after Athena has left him.

While all of this helped make Odysseus a warrior beyond nearly any other, as the Trojan War ended and he set out to return home with his crew, he learned through many brutal lessons that the marks left behind from encountering the gods were not always a boon.

The first time a new mark (in what would eventually become quite the collection) appeared on his journey, it was as he was sailing away from the cyclops's cave, having just finished shouting his name at the beast.

After defeating the cyclops, Odysseus gains physical strength beyond anything he or his men have seen before. However, he cannot control it at first, leading to Odysseus accidentally breaking everything he holds and even accidentally injuring his crewmates just by touching them. This Odysseus fears this mark greatly, because how is he supposed to hold his wife and son if he cannot hold anything without breaking it?!

Next, when Odysseus is given the wind bag by Aeolus, he gains a mark that gives him silent steps, as if he weighs nothing more than air. He spooks many of the crew with this, but luckily they're able to adapt fairly well to this mark.

After encountering Poseidon the first time, Odysseus, to his horror, grows gills on his neck, as a cruel reminder from the god of the seas that Odysseus had escaped the watery grave that so many of his men were mercilessly thrown into, and they're by far his most noticeable mark. Odysseus spends many hours staring at the gills in horror, wondering if Penelope will even be able to recognize him when he gets home.

Hermes, much like Athena, decides to be helpful with his mark on Odysseus. His mark is a swift and sure stride, allowing Odysseus to move quicker and more nimbly than he ever had before.

After Circe, Odysseus gains yet another mark, which he is beginning to dread at this point. Circe's mark is the ability to conjure realistic illusions of just about anything, from Odysseus himself to any of the monsters he's seen.

After killing the sirens, Odysseus gains a mark from them as well. This time, he gains the ability to mimic voices, any voice he's heard. Sometimes, in the dead of night, he uses it to mimic Penelope's voice, the voice he's missed so dearly, softly singing to himself.

After Scylla, Odysseus gains his most grotesque mark yet. All of his teeth transform into sharp, ferocious fangs that are stained blood-red despite how many times Odysseus washes out his mouth. Odysseus avoids talking for a while after that, too horrified at the sight he now makes.

He certainly looks like a monster now, but his journey is long from over.

Next, after his fateful choice from Zeus, Odysseus wakes up on Calypso's island with yet another mark. This time, when Odysseus gets angry, the air around him becomes almost charged, humming with energy that sets everything around on edge, a primordial fear running through them.

Calypso's mark is put on him near-immediately after he meets her, allowing him to persuade any mortal with his voice alone. Odysseus curses the fact that the ability doesn't work on goddesses every single day for seven years when he pleads for release from the island.

The second time Odysseus meets Hermes, the god of travelers decides to bless him again with yet another helpful mark. This time, Hermes gives him the ability to locate anything he wants, including Ithaca, to guide his way home.

After outmaneuvering Charybdis, Odysseus gains its mark as well, allowing him to pull nearby objects closer to him, just like Charybdis with its whirlpools.

And finally, after Odysseus is done torturing Poseidon, he gains one last mark: his nails sharpened into long claws, the ends pointed like Poseidon's trident and permanently stained ichor-gold. One last transformation for Odysseus to become the monster Poseidon accused him of being.

For the entirety of his journey home, Odysseus hated most of his marks, despising them for turning him into something else, something not quite himself. He hated what he was becoming with each mark that took him further and further away from his humanity.

However, when Odysseus finally set foot in his palace once more only to find over a hundred suitors plotting to do terrible things to his wife and son? Odysseus finally understood. He realized, at long last, what the marks, given to him by gods and monsters, allies and enemies alike, were meant to be used for.

All of these marks that he had acquired, they had indeed turned him into the perfect monster. Namely, the marks had transformed him into a monster well-suited for hunting down any mortal that had dared to invade his home.

Odysseus doesn't even use his bow, as the string snapped under his strength when he pulled it back, ready to silence the most vocal of these pests with an arrow through his neck. Instead, it seemed like he was going to have his already blood-stained hands claws dirty.

Calling upon Aeolus and Circe's marks, he hid his presence, filling the air around him with an illusion that where he was standing was empty. Then, he silently crept forward, until he was only mere steps behind the boasting pig, which didn't even know that it was about to be slaughtered.

Using Charybdis' mark, he pulled his prey back towards him and, before anyone in the room could blink, tore the vermin's throat out with his claws.

There was a moment of stunned silence among all of the suitors prey before Odysseus dropped his illusion, revealing his full visage. His face and torn tunic drenched in the blood of a god, his blood-stained fangs bared, his gills flaring, his eyes nearly glowing in the light of the torches, his claws

The moment the prey set their eyes on him, terrified screams of "oh gods" and "what is that?" ring out from the crowd, but Odysseus pays them no mind. No, he ignores all of the cries from the crowd, because he has only one goal in mind:

To hunt.

(Much, much later, after blood has coated nearly every surface in the palace and there are no more suitors to kill, Penelope and Odysseus reunite at long last.

And if, after everything, Penelope gains a mark of her own after "slaying" the monster that Odysseus had become in order to bring her husband back to her, then neither of them would think too much of it.)

And that's all for now on this au! Please let me know if you'd like a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[lovely-p-issues]

Odysseus song fanficion: In serpent's body

Athena calmly stepped over the corpse of one of the suitors and moved down the blood-slippery stairs. Despite the darkness, her eyes could easily see the numerous red splatters on the walls. She stopped and touched one of the stains in wonder. It was not a fatal shot.

Something at her feet groaned with pain. She looked straight into the terrified eyes of a man- No. Not a man. A monster. An animal. She saw his past and knew his thoughts. She didn't even flinch as she saw more blood drip from his mouth as he tried to plead for help or mercy.

Another moment, and his soul would have wandered straight to Tartarus, away from her Warrior, away from the Queen, and away from her- former friend.

She crouched down and with a jerk pulled an arrow from the side of the terrified suitor.

"Hold him down while I slit his throat, right?"

She wasn't smiling. She felt no pleasure when, a moment later, another body fell lifelessly to the floor. Perhaps a hint of satisfaction, however, carefully hidden beneath the sense of expectancy buzzing through her veins.

Everything seemed to be coming to an end.

A few corridors away, a scream of terror rang out. She could hear another torch hitting the ground.

Athena sighed. It was time for the final trial.

Like a whirlwind, she dashed through the palace until she came upon the silver-tounged Eurymachus, who was still searching for his weapon in a panic. He didn't even have time to turn around. He fell, pierced by her spear.

"Hold her down while her gate is open, hm?"

After a moment, his dark, dead stare met hers, the same. She dragged him under the table so that no one would notice that there were now two men in the palace looking alike.

She felt disgust leaking inside her as she took his pathetic form, but it had to be him. Odysseus' childhood friend, who for a moment managed to fool even Penelope, who would always manage to get out of everything with words. The one who had sought the queen's hand, despite his affair with one of her favourite but unfaithful maids. She frowned, and the same grimace entered Eurymachus' face. She had hoped it would be the foolish girl who came across his body after the battle.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded in the feast hall, none louder than the tread of a cat. She straightened up. There was no time to waste. She knew that Odysseus was behind her, but human senses would not have been able to tell where he was.

When she opened her mouth, she heard not her voice, but the low, melodious tone of a man.

"Old king, our leader is dead. You've destroyed the serpent's head. Now the rest of us are no longer a threat!"

Odysseus did not move, but she went on, full of fear. He could not fail. Not at this point.

‘Old king, forgive us instead. So that no more blood is shed.’

At last she heard the sound of a string being drawn. She struggled to hold back a smile and instead raised her hands high in the air so he could see that she was not wielding a weapon.

"Let's have open arms instead-"

The arrow couldn't hurt her, not really, yet she fell, proudly, as her apprentice's aim remained unwavering. Right in the throat.

"No."

Her heart leapt a little, for that smile could not be mistaken for any other. Someone might say it was the smile of a monster, and they might be right, but she preferred to think of it as the smile of a king.

Odysseus moved on without giving her even one unnecessary glance. She, on the other hand, quickly dragged Eurymachus' body to where she had fallen and gave him his arrow.

Odysseus was not about to fall.

She was not happy, not exactly. Something in him was forever going to remain broken, including through her fault, but she had to make sure that all that pain from the past would repay. Ensure that from that day he would have lived a peaceful life. Him and his family.

And speaking of family-

A few floors below, Telemachus had just killed his first opponent in this battle. She flashed through the palace.

The boy was not going to fight alone.

____

she had to make sure that all that pain from the past would repay or she just wanted to prove a point, idk

Also, sorry, my grammar vanished and i can't find it

For those who didn't read Odyssey: Eurymachus and his lover, Melantho are minor characters; he's one of the leading suitors and he lies to Penelope that as Odysseus's friend he would take care of Telemachus (he wants to end him ofc) and Melantho is Penelope's favourite slave, Penny treats her as her own child, yet Melantho is unfaithful and treats Odysseus harshly when he arrives to Ithaca disguised as a pauper (i think she was also rude to him after he reunited with Penelope but i'm not sure???)