#music and writing is best

[ghostydrawsstuff]

Alright I'm in the mood for some more headcannons! And this time it's about kissing~ hehe

Slenderman:

•He's not really a 'romance' guy, tbh you already have slim chances at survival if you're human, but on the odd chance he does, for whatever reason, gets close with you, he'll take great care of you.

•Kisses with him will be rare, for once since what exactly would you even kiss? But if you're okay with that or him ripping open his skin to reveal his mouth to kiss that he'll do it on special occasions.

•He'll slowly cup your cheeks, giving you more than enough time to pull away or stop him if you so desire. If you don't, he'll pull you as close as possible and press you against his face. If you're okay with his ripped mouth ya will get some of the black blood on you, but he secretly likes seeing how it looks on your skin, smearing it to make it cover more of your beautifull face.

•He tastes like the smell of campfire and the refreshing scent of rain, with a faint taste of cinnamon. It'll make you yearn for more, but he doesn't show his love/affection for you very often, so it's more of a special treat whenever he does.

Splendorman:

•He's very shy and if you want this man to get the hint you will have to tell him. Pretty much any signs go over his head or he'll just take it as a platonic compliment.

•He gives kisses all the time once you're together, whenever he's proud of you or just happy you're willing to spend your time with him. So, you're gonna get little pecks all the time, usually on the cheek, forehead or on the nose (those are his favourite spots).

•Though for more intimate kind of kisses he'll still slip back to his more shy side, he rarely falls inlove with people so he's still not confident and very easily flustered.

•Most of the time when you kiss him he'll wrap his arms around you, so tight it almost hurts, but he just loves you so much and wants to keep you safe! And if you get on top of him while you're smooching him, he'll be putty underneath you and just an absolute blushing mess. A content blushing mess though.

•As one might expect, he tastes sweet, like a chocolate covered strawberry and a lot like energy drinks. You've really tried to convince him to lay off of them, but oh well habits am I right?

Trenderman:

•He's a great kisser in all honesty, even without lips it somehow feels just right. Yet he never really does it frequently. He's a hard worker, sometimes he's just so deep into a project you'd hardly see him at all for a few days, but he will always leave the door to his work room open for you to join him if you so wish.

•One of his favourites way of kissing his a upside down kiss, especially if you're sitting infront of him, leaning your head back and on top of his lap, whenever you do this he just wants to lean down and steal your breath away.

•No matter how often he kisses you, you'll still always be surprised how sweet he tastes, similar to bubblegum, but also faintly flowery, like a botanic garden you just entered. It's nice and it always manages to calm you down after a long stressfull day of your own, like your own little safe space, just in person.

Offenderman:

•Oh boy horny personified! As you might guess he likes kissing you a lot and in pretty much any place. Your shoulder, mouth, hips, hands or personal favourite, neck. He loves teasing you by it, especially if you're more on the shy side of things.

•He likes many different positions, but if you two are actually close he'll make sure to go more after things you're into, but he loves kissing you deeply on the lips, one hand holding your cheek as the other either rests around your waists or teasing you by caressing your body as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He likes being deep inside of you in so many not appropriate ways.

•He's usually on top of you while kissing you, pressing you down against whatever it is you two are laying or sitting on. But occasionally he's more than down for you to take the lead, to sit on his lap and reach up for him or crawl on top of his torso to lean over him. Of course he's not gonna let you do all the work (he'd much rather always give than expect something and not receive) so he'll obviously still tease you until you can't take it anymore.

•Somehow his taste always makes you crave more, it's almost like a drug rushing through your blood. There things that nothing can wash away, so you'll always taste the faint remnants of smoke and blood, but there's always something to sweeten the deal, like dark chocolate making you want to just melt and he's fully aware of it.

[ghostydrawsstuff]

I get more and more veryyy specific spotify playlists for stories, vibes and type of scenes.

I do not require help. I am perfectly normal

[theoldaeroplane]

worried that thing you put in your art or writing or game or music is too self-indulgent, too self-referential, too niche for anyone but yourself? fear not! you can do whatever you want forever. and you should.

[suja-janee]

Redraw for my blog’s 4 year anniversary! (Ignore the fact that I accidentally erased echo’s arm oh shitttt)

.

.

Old ver.

[gothamite-rambler]

Okay, but like... No one would blame Jason

Jason (nervously sitting on the ground): I can explain, you see this was my civiv-

Bruce grabbed Jason by the collar of his shirt and dragged him away.

Bruce (in an ashamed dad voice): YOU MUST'VE LOST YOUR DAMN MIND! YOU DO NOT KIDNAP DIDDY!

Jason (wincing in pain): Ow! I just wanted to give him what he hasn't had in years, man! Just let me shoot him in his crotch!

Bruce: I can't bail you out for that! Let the courts handle it! You dumbass!

Jason (whining in his 20s): You never let me do anything!

Bruce: I let you get away with a lot! But this? No! Grounded! YOU ARE GROUNDED!

Jason sobbed as Bruce continued to drag him away, while Diana, Clark, and many onlookers from Gotham watched the spectacle.

Diana (impressed): I have to figure out how he does that.

Clark: I can't even ground Konnor.

[inkyrainstorms]

"Greet the world with open arms!"

"Polites..."

[ducktracy]

a short placing heavy emphasis on Hungarian Rhapsody No. II is a rite of passage for golden age cartoons. Bugs Bunny did it! Tom and Jerry did it! Daffy and Donald! but one thing Woody Woodpecker has above the competition is that he is held hostage by a group of gangsters and is forced to entertain, lest he get executed. amazing

[antigonesghosts]

What I loved about Cinderella's Castle is it is so entirely about Ella. We know starkid can handle a show with tons and tons of characters but I found it quite refreshing for it to be so wholly her story? I think it was a lovely choice for this show and man Bryce did such a perfect job of it, she is truly such a star

[jack-kellys]

so we all know life is a circle. thus fandom is a circle. we see things come back around like the de/twinkification of racetrack higgins. or cowboy versus artist jack kelly. or "mom" friend david jacobs and the perpetual need to make the newsies some kind of heteronormative family. and yet again we've found our way back to the anti katherine pulitzer arc of her "getting in the way" of jack and davey's popular subtextual/fanon relationship. (yes im late nevermind that.)

now, not being a katherine fan is different than being anti-katherine. not being a katherine fan means you might have criticisms like "i'm not sure how she serves the newsies narrative better than, say, sarah jacobs, as sarah is more aligned with the newsies contextually/societally and katherine is very distant and rich lol", or even "i'm not a big fan of how katherine seems to be tired of jack's shit for most of the play and then 'suddenly' finds romantic interest in him within one song".

but being anti-singular-young-woman-character because of a ship between the main two boys is. a tired take is it not? again with the circle, we've had this discourse already and its been cut out. since 2012 and 2017 we been talking about this girl and her value, but not in the context we should be.

(because the context we should be talking about it in is a newsies 1992 versus newsies broadway context, not an anti-katherine context, but i digress.)

katherine's value. what is there to mine from? she is an extremely young woman reporter, 17-18 years old, whose article makes the front page of the new york sun. since she writes under a pseudonym, i'm presuming she writes with skill well above her age to be published at all (yes, even writing vaudeville reviews). in past productions she either finds the newsies at jacobi's because she saw the walk-out (TWWK) from inside The World (UK), or jack kelly simply interests her enough for her to seek him out again (Broadway/Tour/Live). she is unsure about herself as a writer despite her skill which is made clear in her song. she is rich. she did not need to have a career and was encouraged not to. pulitzer is her father and she does not get along with him. she matches jack word for word, often with davey at her side. she mills comfortably about the newsies through the second act and has a friendship of some kind with specs specifically. she also literally says "that's a face [jack's] that could save us all from sinking in the ocean/like someone said 'power tends to corrupt'" essentially prophesying the act 2 betrayal. which is crazy.

you can draw your own conclusions from the above, but all of it is essentially canon? right? so maybe you don't have to be a fan of all of it, but you're really going to tell me absolutely none of this is compelling. that none of this is something you can interpret for yourself as complex. that albert is more complex.

this is not me saying you have to include katherine in everything, because that isn't what this post is about. this is about individuals choosing to dislike or devalue katherine by only viewing her in relation to her as a romantic interest, instead of a complex character in a period piece with a full arc. yes a full arc. it's the musical that's rushed not katherine.

@we-are-inevitable speaks on this extremely well in the comments of this post as well, more in connection to katherine as being a compelling romantic interest in the context of newsies speaking in the defense of love interests/often women characters. in this post i speak on how i would navigate jack/katherine as a director, and in this post i speak on how to direct something to believe in to make it, well, believable, aside from its awful writing for both kath and jack. because again, fandom is a circle, and i literally talked about how to "fix" jatherine in august 2024. at length

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Listening to the Inquisiton soundtrack again and imagining what we could have had if Trevor Morris was brought on to do Veilguard’s music instead of Hans Zimmer. It’s not even close, how much better he did.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[the-verbatim]

HOZIER DID NOT WRITE “From Eden” JUST TO BE CALLED THE TAKE ME TO CHURCH GUY

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Omg I loved your herald viktor epic line idea I’ve been thinking about it nonstop. If u have time and energy id love to read it sooo much ❤️❤️

Since the Ithica Saga dropped last night my brain has not known a single moment of peace. "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" is just so insanely perfect for a Machine Herald Viktor x Reader AU it makes me physically ill. Like, seriously:

I am not the man you fell in love with

I am not the man you once adored

//

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I cannot change

Would you love me all the same?

//

Would you fall in love with me again

If you knew all I've done?

The things I can't undo

I'm not the man you knew

Viktor is so Odysseus coded it is PAINFUL. The pain of sacrificing so much of himself to survive. The regret of everyone he's had to leave behind, to betray. The ghosts of his legacy haunting his mind. All for his goal, the one thing he knows he's meant to do with every fiber of his being. Nothing, neither magic nor gods, will stop him from fulfilling that dream. He will not be the same once all has passed, and he will never regain all that he's lost. Can the person who loved him the most as he was before still love this version of him?

And the reader's answer...

I will fall in love with you

Over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when

No matter how long it's been

You're mine

Because what you loved about him is deeper than any of the ways he's changed. It's something at his core, in his soul, in the light of his eyes, no matter how tired they may seem now. It's your first kiss, it's the sound of his voice in your ear, it's the curve of his lips when he smirks, it's the way he looks at you like he falls in love all over again every day you're with him. Time may pass, and the world may change, but not this. Never this.

He is yours just as you are his, and that is the one thing that will never change.

[phoenix-downer]

Next to My Husband

Summary: Penelope can't believe Odysseus is really home, and he claims he isn't the man he once was. But one final test reveals the truth, and husband and wife reunite at long last.

~ 2770 words. Set during "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again" in the Ithaca Saga of Epic: the Musical and expands on their reunion. Angst, Romance, Fluff. Check the tags for additional info. POV Penelope.

Penelope waited in her chambers, staring out the open window facing the sea. For a long time, she had despised it for taking her husband away from her. How many nights had she spent staring at it, hoping, wishing, praying he would come home? And now Telemachus claimed he had returned.

It was too good to be true. Odysseus was dead. He had drowned or perished on some faraway island. She was in denial like so many other widows of the Trojan War. This was just a dream, nothing more.

She faintly heard her name called out, and then the door to her chambers creaked open. A man stood there, looking utterly haggard and ragged in the torchlight. He quite literally wore rags, his clothes were stained with blood, scars littered his body, and his dark hair and beard were matted. His eyes were red instead of the brown she remembered. But the way he looked at her…

She swallowed and stood. It had been so long since she had seen Odysseus that she wasn't sure if she could trust her eyes to tell her the truth.

“Is it really you? Have my prayers been answered? Or am I dreaming once more?” she asked.

He smiled sadly. “It's hard to believe, I know.”

She hesitated, then took a few steps closer to him. “Forgive me, but you look different. Your eyes are tired and your frame is lighter. Even your smile is different. It's so torn. Is it really you, my love?”

If this man really was her husband, he had changed so much in the intervening years that her heart and mind were having trouble coming to terms with the differences. She was a practical woman out of necessity, but all those painful days and sleepless nights longing for him to return had created a phantom lurking in her mind, a spectre made up of memories and longing. Her phantom husband was not the same as the man before her now—he was young and kind and optimistic, not middle-aged and jaded and haunted.

But then again, she was hardly the same woman either. She was also middle-aged now, and exhausted, and cautious. Naivety was the luxury of fools. She’d had to be clever and cunning and deceitful to survive. To raise Telemachus and keep the kingdom running and hold the suitors at bay.

His face fell. “I’m not the man you fell in love with,” he admitted, and she was confused for a moment before he continued. “The man you once adored—he's long gone.” That haunted look returned to his eyes, and he hung his head in shame. “I'm not your kind and gentle husband, and I don't deserve to be called your love. Because I'm not that man, not anymore. I don't even know that I deserve to be called a man after what I've done.” He ran a shaking hand through his shaggy hair.

She wasn't sure what to say. If he truly was a monster, he wouldn't feel remorse. But those blood-soaked clothes certainly spoke for themselves. The servants were currently cleaning up the aftermath of his killing spree that had left 108 men dead. And yet he had done it for a reason. Telemachus had told her it was to protect them. He had spelled out their horrible plans, the ghastly fate Odysseus had spared them from. Any good husband and father would do everything in his power to stop such an awful plot directed at his family. It was just difficult to wrap her mind around how far Odysseus had gone.

The world was a cruel place, to turn her kind, gentle husband into a ruthless killer.

He mistook her silence for judgment. “I know you've been waiting for the man who was once your love,” he said, and there were tears glistening in his red eyes and shadows on his face from the flickering torchlight. “But you don't know what all I've done, and I can't change the past. How could you ever love me if I told you?”

“Try me," she said softly, like this was another one of the riddles or puzzles or challenges they always used to make for one another. “What kinds of things did you do?”

She wanted to know. Wanted to find out what he had done, what spectres haunted him.

“Left a trail of red on every island,” he told her. “Traded my friends like they were just objects I could use. Hurt more lives than I can count.”

He continued telling her what he had done, and though it made her stomach turn, she appreciated his honesty. He wasn't sugarcoating his behavior or pretending his dark deeds hadn't happened or weren't his fault. When she had seen him off to war, she had hardly expected him to keep his hands clean. But the war had ended a decade ago, and his journey back to her side had taken another decade and even more bloodshed.

Yes, the world was cruel to drive a man like her husband to commit such atrocities. She could only hope the world would be less cruel for their son. A kind, peaceful world where good men never had to be ruthless to make it home alive…where good men didn't have to leave for war in the first place…if only.

But she was Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, and the scarred, bloodstained, haggard man before her was claiming to be her husband and king. She would leave speculation pertaining to ideal worlds to the philosophers and any actual execution of said ideals to the gods. Penelope of Ithaca for her part would continue to deal with reality.

“And why did you do these things?” she asked, her voice careful and stoic as she paced the room, her expression keeping up the façade of a judge.

“All of it was to bring me back to you,” he said, his voice breaking at the torment he'd been through, at what he still tortured himself with, and her heart broke along with it.

If this was a false Odysseus, he certainly sounded like the real thing.

“If you want nothing to do with me,” he continued, “I understand. Just say the word and I'll be gone forever.” He dared to take a step closer to her. “But if you could find it in yourself to fall in love with me again, not the man I was but the monster I am now, please, tell me.”

He pleaded with her with his entire being. His arms and legs trembled, his eyes begged her, and she could sense how badly he wanted to embrace her.

A part of her wanted to cave completely, to take him in her arms and smother his face with kisses. But she had one more test. One final question to confirm he wasn't an illusion and to make sure he was still her husband deep down. Was he still the same man she had fallen in love with all those years ago, or had the years changed him too much like he seemed to think?

She suspected he needed this test as much as she did.

“If that's true,” she said at last, “if you really have done those things and you really are a monster like you say, could you do me a favor? Just a moment of labor that would bring me some peace.”

She gestured to their bed, to where they had spent so many lovely evenings together and where she had spent countless more agonizing nights alone. “See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over? Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here.”

It was a trick question, one only Odysseus would know the answer to.

His face twisted in pain. “How could you say this? I built that wedding bed with my blood and sweat. I carved it into the olive tree where we first met. It's a symbol of our everlasting love.” His voice got louder and angrier, and it was clear he was wounded deeply by her request. “Do you realize what you’ve just asked me? The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots.”

His unspoken meaning lingered in the air. He didn't want to destroy the symbol of their love or the reality behind it any more than she did. And that meant he was still her husband, despite what he might think.

She couldn't test him any longer. She smiled as tears filled her eyes. “Only my husband knew that, so I guess that makes him you.”

His eyes widened. “Penelope…” So much meaning and emotion behind a single word. Twenty years worth of longing and waiting. Oh how she had wanted for him to say her name again. To hear his voice once more.

She cupped his cheek, and he melted into her touch, the tears streaming down his face. “I will fall in love with you over and over again,” she promised him through her own tears. “I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine.” She stroked the faded scar on his cheek that he'd gotten from that boar hunt all those years ago. “Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my husband, and I've been waiting for you.”

He threw his arms around her, holding her close like his life depended on it, saying her name over and over again. He had been through so much to come home, to return to her. There would be consequences for his actions—trials he must endure and people he must face. But they would deal with all that together. And they would do it tomorrow. Tonight, he didn't need lectures or judgments or reckonings.

He needed his wife.

She pulled away a little and searched his face, then leaned closer, closer till her lips brushed against his. His breath caught, and then he was kissing her back with all the desire and passion of the last twenty years spent apart. One hand wove its way into her hair and his other arm wrapped around her waist, and she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him.

He deepened the kiss, and her mind flew back, back to all the times they had done this before. To their first kiss under the olive tree that was now their bed. While they were older and more experienced, their eagerness and passion now reminded her of then.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless. She very much wanted to continue, but he insisted on cleaning up first. So she sent the servants to fetch water and heat rocks for the bath. When everything was ready, she glanced at Odysseus.

He still hadn't removed his bloody rags, and he stared at the water with fear in his eyes.

He’d never been afraid of water before. All those years at sea…had he almost drowned?

“Ody?” she gently asked, using his old nickname as she placed a hand on his arm.

“Poseidon has had his revenge after all,” was his cryptic response. “I don't think I'll ever be able to enter a body of water without panicking.” He smiled ruefully. “I can torture a god with his own weapon and slaughter over a hundred men in a single day, but taking a bath is beyond me.”

She glanced at the tub. It really wasn't that big, just large enough for the two of them. Maybe they could start small and he would get used to being in the water again.

“I'll join you,” she said, then carefully unfastened the fibulae holding her peplos in place as he watched. As the garment slipped off her, she had a brief moment of uncertainty and grabbed the fabric. He hadn't seen her in twenty years. Would he still find her aging body beautiful? He’d probably met plenty of stunning mortal women and breathtaking goddesses on his journeys. How could she possibly hope to compare—

He gently grasped her hand and led it away from her body, letting the peplos slip off completely. The way his eyes traveled up and down her body, the hunger and yearning in his gaze, she knew her fears were unfounded.

“You're even more beautiful than I remembered,” he told her, putting her fears to rest for good. He embraced her and kissed her softly, tenderly, and she gently tugged at his rags. Normally, it was the servants’ job to undress and bathe the king, but she wanted to be the one to help him.

When she’d gotten all the rags off at last, she wanted to cry. His scars were even more visible and numerous now. She knew each one carried a story of pain and suffering and survival, and she wanted to know them all.

He misunderstood her expression, shame crawling up his face and driving him to look away from her. She quickly put a stop to that when she kissed the scar on his right shoulder.

“You're more handsome to me than ever, my love. These scars are signs of your survival. Wear them proudly.”

He searched her face and then kissed her again, and they spent quite a while kissing and touching before finally making it to the bath. He braved the water with her by his side, and she carefully cleaned every inch of him. Washed away the blood and the sweat and the grime. Ran her hands through his tangled, matted hair until there were no more snarls or knots. And he carefully washed her too, washed away the fear and sweat and deceit until she felt completely clean.

When they were through, he looked much more like himself again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and was about to kiss him when a bright light flashed. When she could see again, it took her a moment to realize Odysseus was still with her, because her husband quite literally looked like a god. He was taller and stronger than ever before, and his hair graced his broad shoulders in thick dark curls. Going by his expression, she had undergone a similarly miraculous transformation.

Then he smiled, a smile so big and bright it lit up the whole room and made her smile too. “Thank you, oh goddess of wisdom, for your support in my romantic endeavors,” he called out to someone she couldn't see, “but I would've taken my wife to bed all the same.”

He grinned and swept her into his arms, and Penelope could've sworn she heard an owl hooting in return. But soon all thoughts of their divine supporter fled their minds as Odysseus carried her to their wedding bed.

Twenty years of absence could not easily be undone in a single night, but they were willing to try. Especially because the night went on and on and on, almost as if Someone was asking Dawn to wait until husband and wife were fully sated.

When at last they were, Penelope smiled and played with Odysseus’s hair as they cuddled together. His eyes weren't red anymore. They were back to their beautiful, natural brown. A sign that he wasn’t a god or monster but just a man.

“How long has it been?” she asked, knowing her answer but wanting to know his.

He grasped her hand and tenderly kissed it. “Twenty years,” he said softly.

Her lips parted. So he had been faithful after all. She had been faithful too, hoping and waiting and longing for his return.

“Twenty years,” she echoed to confirm his unspoken question.

They told each other everything after that, all that had transpired in each other's absences. Athena must be still helping them at this point because Dawn still hadn't arrived, and yet Penelope somehow had the energy to tell Odysseus everything and listen to his tales in return.

When he was through, he caressed her cheek as the first rays of Dawn spread across the sky.

“I love you,” he said, the words simple but profound. Like he was grateful she knew everything and yet still accepted him.

She smiled and kissed his hand. "I love you too.”

They'd both been through so much. She had worn herself ragged raising their son single-handedly and running the kingdom, and she had lied to the suitors. Odysseus had done such terrible things to make it home, had killed so many people. And yet she knew the man lying next to her wasn't a monster. He had much to atone for, but he was her husband, and he always would be.

————————————————————————

A/N: This story was such a joy to write. A big thank you to @aquariusshadow for introducing me to Epic and reading over the story for me and giving her suggestions, and a big thank you to @scoobysnack1107 as well for also reading and providing feedback ❤️ I love Greek mythology and musicals, so Epic is like the perfect combination of two of my interests that I never knew I needed.

Just a few notes about the writing process: I wanted to incorporate how Odysseus’s eyes turn red in the animatics for the song “Odysseus,” and how they seem a little less red when he reunites with Telemachus and Penelope. Also, all the stuff with Athena being his wingwoman is actually legitimately from the Odyssey (giving him a glow up, delaying dawn for him and Penelope, etc.), which cracked me up. I read the 23rd book before I wrote this story in preparation, and you truly cannot make these things up. Also, the scar from the boar hunt is on Odysseus's foot in the Odyssey, but I moved it to his face for this story. I also went down a research rabbit hole about ancient Greek baths and clothing to make sure those details were more accurate, and that was a fun diversion. And of course I loved including the callbacks to “Just a Man,” incorporating the lyrics of "Would You Fall in Love with Me Again,” and exploring Penelope's mindset more.

I feel really lucky to have gotten into Epic right before the Ithaca Saga released. It's been such a fun journey, or shall we say, Odyssey 😎 Congrats to all the cast and crew for all their hard work! And thank you for reading! I hope you all enjoyed! ❤️

[polarmoon]

things have been picking up for the band recently. their whole operation is still painfully DIY, and they do struggle to find time to record their own music (not to mention benji still learning about production), but their hard work is paying off, slowly but surely. they're even starting to play shows outside of their local scene!

it's definitely stressful, but hopefully, it'll all be worth it.

[missdarhk]

soooo

I just wrapped Athena in a little blanket and made her have a cozy game night with the Ithacan fam, and gave her hot cocoa and some cookies :)

and this is why you're my favorite person ever and ever 😭😭😭😭😭

GUYS LOOK AT HER LOOK AT HOW TINY SHE IS *gently holds* DONT WORRY LITTLE ATHENA NO HARM WILL COME YOUR WAY

tasha you are hereby forgiven for all crimes committed prior to this, I will treasure tiny athena in a blanket forever you don't understand