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strawberrypinky · 2 months

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fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - ch. 1/8

Enver had rarely been wrong about people throughout his rise to power, yet Elodie Liardon was the gift that kept on giving. She was his equal in every way & he would go through to great lengths to ensure she'd be at his side when the world became his.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't as easily convinced.

A/N: I think it goes without saying that I don't support or endorse anything Gortash does in this story. He's a terrible person & evil. That said, he's hot & this is also my first time writing a villain as the main character - I am not yet sure where this story is going to head in certain aspects. The warnings are subject to change, so make sure to check them out as this story progresses. This story may feature non con down the line. Also, I'm not an expert in DnD lore – a lot of this is based on my own research & interpretations & I'm taking a few creative liberties with this story, e.g. the Council of Four. Canonically, the Council of Four consist of Ulder Ravengard (Wyll's father), Dillard Portyr, Belynne Stelmane and Thalamra Vanthampur. For the sake of this story, Vanthampur is replaced with Thamior Liardon aka our heroine's father.

The age difference between Elodie and Enver is fairly large. She is about Wyll's age when the canon events start (24), whereas I headcanon Enver to be around 40 years old. This chapter takes place about five years before the canon events, making Elodie 19 and Enver 35.

You can also read this story on Archive of Our Own

This chapter serves as an introduction to both Elodie and Enver.

Shoutout to @gufu-vire for giving me some serious dialogue inspiration & supporting this messy project from the start 💕 And of course shoutout to my platonic soulmate @legacygirlingreen. I couldn't do any of this without you girl 💕

Word Count: 7k

Ordinarily, Enver enjoyed the splendour of the Upper City and the extravaganza of what the night brought.

It wasn't that he particularly cared for exuberant soirees or merriment among the Patriars and Lords of Baldur's Gate, but because the ceaseless inebriation meant they all became cursory - revealing their Achilles Heel to Enver on a silver platter.

All that was left to do for him was shoot and observe as they crumpled beneath their fragmented invulnerability.

He had long learned not to underestimate the value of thinly veiled threats and carefully curated negotiations. Enver's upbringing in Avernus had ensured at least that much. It had been a miserable existence at best, though the unyielding fists of Nubaldin and the narcissistic ornery of Raphael were better described as castigatory crucifixion, and for the longest time, he had been sure he'd succumb to it. The bloodied and blazing wastelands of Avernus were scarcely the sight any sane being would wish to wake up to, but for a near decade, Enver had been greeted by rivulets of lava and barren hills whenever he had opened his eyes to the unending torment of the House of Hope and while the lavish grandeur of Raphael's home would forever outshine most of the Patriars estates, it could never hide the insanity that transpired within its walls. An existence surrounded by infernal creatures was a fickle thing, rarely monotonous as the days had bled into one. Sleep had been a scarce rarity to come by as screams of tortured souls and beggars and the everlasting sonorousness of the Blood War penetrated even into the dungeons of the paradoxical House of Hope. It was madness incarnate, and Enver would nearly count himself as fortunate not to have gone mad.

Yet, in his most forlorn and reticent moments, there was a mocking voice in his head, a reminder that the abject terrors of Avernus had rendered him just as mad and just as hateful. His mother would have likely argued he had always been a hateful little wretch, having loathed his entire existence from the second he had taken his first breath after the agonising three-day labour he had "put her through". Perhaps she had been right. He was so very full of it.

Enver came to think of his hatred as his strength, his source of being and the flame that drove him forward - A testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

When he had escaped Avernus, coughing up sulfur and ash, it was hatred which drove his acts. For as much as his hatred had grown like a malignant tumour in Raphael's clutches, it had been useless until his eyes flickered over the poverty-stricken streets of the Lower City.

His hatred proved incredibly useful when he was penniless, toiling under the Zhentarim's thumb. It was a thankless venture, but it kept him off the streets.At the very least, it also provided a start to more extraordinary things.

And it was his hatred which fuelled his Lord, the one God who deigned to answer when all others had long forsaken him.

His mother once worshipped Gond and while his father never expressed favour for any of them, Enver had espied prayer to Waukeen more than once. Enver cared for neither. He hadn't cared for any of them – until Bane.

His God had sensed his hatred, strengthened it, and it served him exceptionally. For all their faults and arrogance, the Zhentarim had chosen their patron correctly. Bane was wholly malevolent — hatred incarnate. Enver had long understood that the weak were culled and ruled by the strong, and Bane only strengthened Enver's resolve to establish his rightful place as the mighty. He had pledged to never be weak again. To never feel fear as he had when his parents had sold him, but to make others fear his might alone. He had pledged to never be the snotty, heaving child again, fearfully wailing for his parents as Nubaldin's fist hit him over and over again. Gone was the child Enver Flymm.

Through Bane, Enver Gortash was born.

And through him, Enver Gortash would rise like a phoenix from the ashes until the world was his, and his subjects would tremble in fear of his God as they were destined to be.

With Bane, it had been almost frighteningly easy to oust the Zhentarim from the weapon market to take control over the entirety of the Chinonthar Valley black market, but his hatred demanded more with each passing second. No matter which ventures Enver took upon, he succeeded – his loathing endless and his greed all-consuming.

Perhaps in another life, Enver would have felt fulfilled, escaping from the Hells.

Perhaps in another life, he would have been content with leading the weapons trade.

In this life, he knew he'd never be. Sated, perhaps, when all bowed before his glorious might. But certainly never satisfied.

The gentility of Baldur's Gate understood him well enough, even if they buried it deep beneath false charity and fascicle philanthropy. Beneath the masks they had carefully curated, they were all as spiteful as him. They all craved control over one another to assert themselves as the leaders they had made themselves out to be. Extravagant soirees, glittering jewels and extortionate gossip defined their haughty measuring of dicks. It was an ecosystem in and of itself, one which was all too easy to mould once the first step had been taken. It had taken a few years of sweet-talking, of extorting and of fucking them, but Enver was nothing if not patient. He was one of them now, and hardly anything else mattered but the next step. It was why he attended these lavish parties in the first place, even when his mood had been sour for the better part of the day.

The bitch queen's waveservants had distracted his sailors, and while Enver knew they hadn't half of his wits, he had expected they could think with their smooth brains instead of their minuscule dicks. A mistake on his part, really. As a result of their inadequacy his cargo had been seized and half his posse incarcerated. Far from uncommon in his line of work, but it was troublesome just the same.

After an entire day of negotiating for their (undeserved) freedom, Enver had half a mind to drown himself in Arabellan Dry. Unfortunately for him, it was the night of The Breaking, and his attendance was crucial. The Rah of Baldur's Gate was rarely ever found in a gathering this grand, and it provided ample opportunity for Enver to further his ambitions.

The moment he stepped through the grand, gilded doors of High Hall, he was enveloped by a cacophony of drunken laughter and chattering. The glittering melody of an orchestra filled the halls, a sickeningly joyous melody commemorating the arrival of spring. The air was perfumed with a fragrant blend of expensive cologne and plum prosecco. Enver had wrinkled his nose in distaste. The awful concoction was a true scourge these days. He could only hope some Baldur's Grape was available, too. Otherwise, this would be an arduous night.

There was a faint and underlying mustiness to the halls, the gallery illuminated by twinkling chandeliers casting an ethereal glow over the old halls. The decor was befitting the occasion — elegant pieces of silver and sage adorn the room's tables, ceilings, and elaborate mouldings. The flower arrangements were fragrant and intricate, likely having cost a fortune. It was opulent, borderline garish – utterly characteristic of the Upper City and its residents.

It was within this opulence Enver first saw her.

He had spent the better part of the night speaking to associates and... investors in his business ventures – a dance or two with a lady of noble birth in between. Their coquettish smiles were charming, though their personalities were as bland as a slice of stale bread. Enver never understood how some could be that dull and daft when they had endless funds at their disposal. If he were a better person, he'd pity them. Alas, he drowned his exasperation instead. He was far from drunk, but at the very least, the endless yapping had become tolerable.

His eyes wandered over the crowds, most delightfully inebriated, as Sir Provoss chewed his ear off about some venture Enver was invested in. He hardly listened; the Provoss family was near destitute and of no value to him. Within the sea of people, he noticed a glimpse of something silvery and shimmering, a horde of young ladies not far as they looked in the same direction and gossiped animatedly. Their gazes were full of disdain and haughtiness. Enver knew that hatred well - he had been on the receiving end of it long enough himself. His insatiable curiosity propelled him forward as he observed the rare display of disdain from the young noblewomen. With a quick excuse, he approached to catch a glimpse of a young elven woman standing beside Duke Dillard Portyr. The older man appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation with her.

Enver's first thought was that she was magnificent. Beautiful. Alluring.

Silvery locks had been intricately swept up in an updo, with carefully coiled curls framing her delicate features as they gleamed in the light. Her face, petite and exquisitely angular, was adorned with elegantly high cheekbones that gracefully complemented her ivory skin. Shell-pink lips were curled into a pleasant smile, and her eyes were such a striking green that Enver was almost disarmed for a second as he glanced at them. She wasn't tall, but she held herself with a regality Enver had scarcely seen from the most noble houses of Baldur's Gate.

It was easy to see why she was regarded with such disdain. These noblewomen who regarded her with such disdain could only hope to mimic a fraction of her beauty and breathtaking allure.

A pearly gown draped elegantly against her small figure; the delicate and intricate stitching along the hem only further enhanced her beauty. A Debutante, Enver noted. Rich by the looks of it, too.

A sly grin placed itself on his face.

Young, naive and likely wealthy beyond measure – Exactly the kind of woman he could play for a fool before he played her family for funds. It was a game he had played often. For all their money and education, these noblewomen all succumbed to the lie of love far too quickly. Disgracing might have been cruel, but their families were all too keen to pay hush money, so at least they'd appear virginal.

"Duke Portyr," Enver spieled, his voice full of false enthusiasm.

The Duke and the young woman beside him turned their faces to him.

"Sir Gortash," Portyr greeted him equally enthusiastically. He was the one Duke on the Council Enver had always been able to wrap around his finger. The man was anything but a genius. Ravengard had always dismissed him and Stelmane... well, whenever she was coherent enough to conduct meaningful business, she seemed to tolerate Enver, though apparently her business interests were in conflict with his.

The last of them, Duke Liardon, Enver had met merely three times. The man was reclusive, though popular and reminded Enver of the worst times of his life.

Enver quickly shook the memory of their first meeting from his mind. He could not afford to falter now.

"Wonderful to see you tonight," Enver cleared his throat.

"Likewise, likewise, my boy. Enjoying yourself?"

Enver internally rolled his eyes. He was not a boy. He was a Lord, an inventor, a trader - an instrument of tyranny. Yet he said, "Of course", with a smile on his face.

"Why, have you met Lady Elodie yet?" the demented Duke suddenly said, turning to the side as he pointed towards the true object of Enver's attention. The young woman looked at him intently, her gaze sharp and calculating. She was focused. Vigilant. Beneath her pleasant smile, she was assessing him as much as he had assessed her.

A surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

"I have not," Enver answered, his eyes not leaving hers.

The young woman held out her hand, as polite company would, and Enver placed a chaste kiss upon it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elodie."

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Gortash." Her voice was gentle and as delicate and airy as she appeared. A melodic lilt, carried like a breeze - warm and kind. And yet there was a measurement to her words, a precise calculation, each word enunciated as precise as they were rhythmic.

"You see, Elodie, Sir Gortash is an excellent man for business," Duke Portyr spoke. "Most excellent, in fact."

"I'm certain he is," Elodie spoke, her vigilant eyes not leaving Envers. "Weaponry, I'm guessing?"

Enver had to swallow his astonishment. Whoever she was, she was far more keen than he had expected.

"Among other things," Enver confirmed with a nod. He did not appreciate her control, but her intelligence? Perhaps that was even more intriguing than her beauty. He could respect it even, but control? He would always love that above all.

"May I have your next dance?" He asked. A young debutante should be easily swayed by flirtatious advances, no matter how intelligent.

"I would be delighted."

"Excellent."

As genteel as ever, Enver held out his arm for her to take, her nimble fingers settling in the crook of his arm as he led her to the grand dancefloor. A lively waltz was playing, the cadence of the song joyful as people danced the night away around the odd couple. Enver could see various men glancing his way, their eyes full of envy. It made him smile deviously. A blind eunuch would probably still get a boner with a woman like that – she was oh so ravishing. And he had gotten her first. Jealousy was, in Enver's humble opinion, second to only hatred. If they envied him and what he had, they would hate him too. And in hatred, they'd bow to him and his Lord.

"Are you new to Baldur's Gate, Lady Elodie?" Enver asked as the pair began to waltz among the rest. "Forgive me if I am being bold, but a woman with your beauty would have long caught my eye."

She laughed - an earnest but musical sound. A blush placed itself on her cheeks.

As expected, Enver thought. The noblewomen all fell to the same folly.

"I was born in the Gate, Sir Gortash. I was... fortunate enough to travel Toril for a while. I returned recently."

"Indeed?" A well-travelled woman - certainly explained why she seemed far more educated than the rest of the lot. "Have you been enjoying your return to the city then?"

"Just so," she smiled at him as they spun around. His hand was firmly placed on her waist as he led her, warmth seeping through to his fingers. So close to her, he could smell her, and it was as exquisite as the rest of her. Luxurious notes of bergamot, freesia and mandarin assaulted his senses, with something sweet simmering beneath. Jasmine, perhaps? Whatever soap she used, it must have been expensive. Whoever her family was, they must have been at the top of the food chain.

"Though I hardly believe you asked me to dance to ask me about the Gate."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"Just so," she grinned again, mischief flickering behind her eyes. "Or perhaps I have met your sort before."

Enver could not help the indignant snort that escaped him. No matter what she may have seen on her travels, he would bet his entire estate that she had never come across a soul like his.

"And what sort would that be, hm?" Enver teased. "I am but a partiar with a penchant for weaponry."

"Are you trying to insult your own intelligence or mine?" she quipped with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Your garments alone tell me you crave to be accepted as their own, and the shadows under your eyes are deep enough to let me know you hardly sleep. I don't suppose you call yourself an inventor too?"

Enver blinked in surprise, his mind failing him for a second as they continued to dance. This was a first. Never once before had he met a woman so stunningly beautiful and equally intelligent. A lethal combination if there ever was one. It was disarming.

"My garments?" he slowly spoke after a while. He wore something of equal luxury as she did - a bespoke suit, tailored to perfection of obsidian colour and embroidered with fine golden thread.

"You are compensating," she stated with a matter-of-fact voice. "It's a fine quality ensemble, but the embroidery is borderline garish. A man who grew up with abundant wealth would hardly wear this. You worked yourself to the wealth you have. I can only assume this means you are exceptionally smart as well."

If he hadn't been so impressed, Enver would have been livid. How dare you? He wanted to shout. He wasn't compensating. He had earned his right to wear finery, and he would be damned if he did not make full use of it. Instead, he only gave her a strained, near-mocking laugh. After all, she had correctly assumed he was smart.

"My my. You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Right then. Let me return the favour," Enver offered.

"By all means."

He resumed his assessment of her. The gears in his mind turned endlessly, solving endless puzzles as they presented themselves to him. She had surprised him tonight, a mistake he would not make again. Enver knew people - understood them and their wants before they understood themselves. An ability which had served him well. Her gaze, beneath the smile, remained calculating, a mask to conceal something deeper. She was a problem waiting to be solved, and Enver guessed no one ever had. His mind could fixate on problems like that — anything, really — and not let go. Controlling one element of the world meant a step closer to whole tyranny. It meant his certain keep from ruin. A bad habit, perhaps, that blinded him to other things that could harm him. A tendency towards obsession was hardwired into his brain and would have likely been his undoing if he hadn't learned to outsmart it.

"You crave to be known," Enver ventured to guess. Her breath hitched almost imperceivably, and Enver smirked. His gut had never failed him.

"You know you are beautiful. That men desire you. But you want to be known for who you are rather than your body. You crave for someone to uncover the deepest parts of your soul," his voice had reduced to a mere whisper now, blowing in her ear. "You want more, Elodie. Whether that someone is a challenge or an equal."

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing now. Enver was sure that if he had placed a hand on her chest, he could have felt her heart beating erratically. She might have him figured out, but two could play that game. They had created a strange tableau that night in the ballroom: nefarious man, enigmatic woman, lavishly grandiose ballroom. It suggested a tale that could only end in tragedy or ruin, but Enver had always defied destiny. They could be good for each other.

"I can see why you are such a success," she chuckled, almost nervously.

"I simply exercise control in all things, Lady Elodie."

"Hm, one might think that's borderline tyrannical," she mused.

To a normal person, that might have been an insult, but to a man like Enver, who worshipped at the feet of Bane, it possibly was the best compliment he'd ever get.

"Perhaps," Enver chuckled. "But it serves me well."

"Careful, Sir Gortash," Elodie quipped. "You almost sound like a Banite."

Perceptive little thing, Enver wanted to laugh. He almost wished to inflict penance upon himself for having underestimated her so severely. She was beautiful, sure. But what worth held beauty in a woman if there were no brains to match? At best, she'd be a nice fuck, but never an equal or better yet - a wife. Enver would never dare to sully his line with offspring from a daft hussy - not that Bane would allow him to, either. His God demanded perfection; Elodie might just have been that. She was, quite frankly, up to his standards. Perhaps the woman in his arms wasn't vicious or hateful like him, but she was machiavellian and astute, qualities Enver knew Bane valued.

He tried to imagine her clad in obsidian silk or the deepest emerald wool money could buy, warped in Bane's embrace, and Enver decided he liked it. She suited his God, was possibly even worthy of his blessing if she could understand the tranquillity his tyranny would bring and follow in his name. Enver wagered she could, especially if someone could convince her of its worth and who better to convince her than him? Enver silently wondered how big of a challenge she would be, for her innate craving to be known was something he could give her better than any other man ever could, yet she did not appear as a woman who liked to be tamed. The longer Enver held her, the more he recognised that beneath the elegance and allure, there was something wild and untamable - something feral.

She could be his equal in tyranny - an invaluable asset.

"Bane is a God like any other, Lady Elodie. He rewards those willing to make sacrifices in the name of power. Sacrifices which not everyone will make." Enver mused. Her immediate face of contempt amused him. "You're not a fan, I take it?"

"Hardly," she pursed her lips. "I fail to see both the value and the right in tyranny."

"A strong word for what some might consider the natural order. The weak have always been ruled by the strong few."

"And yet nothing constitutes that right," Elodie countered, devotion in her eyes. "None have the right to decide another's fate or to enact punishment, no matter if by the hand of a God or the sheer circumstance of fortune. Nothing does."

Altruism - how much Enver detested it. He supposed it was a marker of her young age, for no matter how well-travelled she was, her brain would lack in experience and instead make up for it in idealism and heroism. He supposed he had thought like that himself once before Nubaldin and Raphael had beat it out of him until nothing but hate and the certainty that absolutism would always rule those too feeble for it. There would always be a power above them, ruling with an iron fist. Enver had long understood it was better to be that power, to wield it, instead of succumbing to it.

He was confident Elodie would learn that lesson, too.

"And how would you propose to rule chaos then, hm?"

"Chaos?" Her voice did not hide her incredulity.

"Chaos," Enver confirmed. "No control, no law, no gods, no government at all. Where do you go from there? What sort of agreement is necessary if everyone is to live in peace? What social contract is needed so that everyone is taken care of?"

She mulled over it for a while, the gears in her head turning as the pair spun around the ballroom. She seemed to genuinely consider his question, though Enver did not know where her mind strayed. Would it come to the same conclusion he had long accepted? That in chaos, each mortal, with their own individual agenda, could only cause friction, conflict and war? Humanity was a flaw, and in the chaos of Avernus was the first time he saw it undressed. In turmoil, civilisation disappeared; every august manner and act was stripped away in the blink of an eye. Chaos would always reveal everything a person was - that humanity's greatest flaw was humanity itself. A peaceful existence could only exist if they bowed to a collective agenda - his agenda, preferably - and when finally they'd bow to him in fear, perhaps they might find a semblance of peace.

"You are a curious man, Sir Gortash," Elodie hummed after a while. "I don't think I have ever met an enigma such as you."

"I will take that as a compliment," Enver chuckled as he spun her around once again.

The melody of the song came to its grand finale, every couple spinning as they prepared for it to end. Glittering twirls and heaving breaths accompanied the soaring crescendo before, after long, the orchestra had quieted, and each couple bowed and curtsied in respect before either gathering themselves for another dance or leaving the floor altogether. Enver gently led Elodie away, hoping to perhaps continue their conversation over some wine. It was rare a person caught his interest beyond business - the last was a Bhaalspawn and he still wasn't entirely sure how much he could trust them. After all, their masters were not only at odds, but they had been created for nothing but slaughter, and Enver wasn't asinine enough to pretend he was the exception.

"It's getting rather late," Eloide mused.

"You've yet to answer my question," Enver mentioned with faux casualty, though internally, he was burning with curiosity.

"Delayed gratification is not denial, Sir Gortash," a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I shall bid you good night."

Gracefully, she spun around, shimmering in the glowing light before she disappeared into the crowds, leaving Enver Gortash speechless for perhaps the first time in his life.

The second time Enver saw Elodie, it had been in the same corridors of High Hall, though the decor had long been removed, and the orchestra was no longer enchanting Patriars. Parliament was supposed to be in session later that day, and Enver had been summoned by Duke Portyr to discuss further commerce strategies as the Tymanther-Unther War continued to disrupt the trade between the nations. It was a tiresome issue, and if someone would have asked him his opinion, Enver would have bombed the Tymanthan armies a long time ago. The old empire of Unther was far from his favourite places in Faerûn, but their gold and iron were unfortunately far too valuable to lose in the long run.

Alas, Duke Ravengard had outright rejected to provide any militia, which had upped the price of metals exponentially - much to Enver's ire.

Porytr was a dimwitted oaf he had always been able to control, but unfortunately, the Duke was simply that. A Duke. The commander of the Flaming Fist on his side would have been much preferable for Enver, but it was merely a matter of time before Ravengard perished, whether that be in battle or due to an uprising among the Gate's citizens. Gorion's Ward, the hero who had saved the realm from Bhaal once, had not been spared - a mere commander of the Flaming Fist was replaced within a breath. Enver had considered assassination more than once; the Bhaalspawn turned his personal assassin would have been more than up for it, possibly even knelt at his feet for allowing such carnage and chaos to be sown. However, Bhaal and Bane's truce was fragile enough - further straining their relationship by using Bhaal's greatest design would have been an insult to the deity Enver was not keen to make. He had made a great deal of enemies; he did not need to add the God of Murder to the list.

As Enver sashayed around the Ducal Palace piano tunes accompanied his steps. Curious, he thought. There was nary a day the pianos were used, unless the halls were used for lavish parties and as far as Enver knew, there were none held anytime soon. As his luck would have it the sound carried itself from somewhere near the ducal offices, thus Enver indulged his curiosity and followed the melody as it carried itself through the musty halls.

He was both bewildered and pleased when he saw Elodie again.

The young woman had hardly left his mind in the aftermath of the Breaking, and yet not a single person had spotted her since. Enver had half a mind to ask Porytr for the young maiden's full name, for the oaf seemed to at least know who she was, which could not be said the rest of the Partriars. She was a complete mystery, and mysteries had, regrettably, a way of driving people utterly mad. No matter how well Enver tried to outsmart his own humanity, he, too, fell folly to the same desire of uncovering the truth.

He observed her for a while; watched as her nimble fingers glided over the piano keys. He had recognised the tune then - a Cormanthyran hymn from times long ago, first come into creation as the Seven Citadels' War had ended and Elves had rejoiced of peace returning to their lands. Enver did not know the name, for the Elvish tongue was foreign to him, but he knew of it as an Ode to Freedom, heroism and eventual triumph as people came together to be good. Enver silently wondered if she had known he would be there or if she had chosen the piece by chance (even if he did not believe that himself).

"You are full of surprises, Lady Elodie," Enver revealed his presence as the final note echoed within the halls.

If she had been beautiful in the dim and glimmering light of the Breaking, Enver supposed she was ethereal as the sun illuminated her skin and her hair, cascading down in gentle waves to the middle of her back shimmered in the golden light.

"Oloth elgg ssussun," the elvish sounded like a prayer spilt from her lips. "Have you any idea what that means, Sir Gortash?"

"I'm afraid I speak no elvish," he divulged, curiously awaiting where this conversation would lead.

"Darkness drowns out light," she smiled as she turned to face him. "You asked how I would govern chaos."

So she had not forgotten - Enver was almost giddy as he awaited her answer with feigned lassitude. He had damn near longed to hear her answer after she had disappeared from his clutches.

"I have indeed," he chuckled.

"My mother saw the piano as a means to control the chaos in me," the young woman began to muse. "She had hoped that dexterous fingers would curb the less dexterous approach I had to... other things."

The gears in Enver's mind began turning rapidly again as he assessed the vexing smile on her lips. She was toying with him, possibly even enjoying laying out the puzzle pieces to her innermost self. He could venture to guess what she was; the feral nature that had always simmered just beneath was the answer all along.

"You're a Sorcerer, aren't you?"

She nodded in confirmation, her smile widening a fraction on her face.

"My parents were rather frightened when I set fire to my maid's skirts at the mere age of eight," a small chuckle escaped her. "I was uncontrolled. Chaos incarnate, one might say. And you know what only amplified the chaos?"

"I suppose you are about to enlighten me." He was intrigued now, clinging onto her words as if each and every one was vitally important.

"Control. The more my parents tried to control it - the further they tried to suppress what I was - the worse the chaos became. People are a lot like that, you know?" she hummed appreciatively, head somewhere between there and the clouds. She was staring into nowhere, a faraway look in her eyes as if remembering times long past. Enver supposed she did.

"Either way," she sighed after a few seconds, "control, tyranny, is not the answer to ensure peace."

"Then what is?" Enver asked, slowly stepping closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he had asked - he knew full well he would neither approve the answer nor even think it sensical. But, perhaps, she had been just impressive enough for him to bother and young enough to believe he could influence her. Change her. For all the men and women he had bedded, betrayed and deceived, none had ever offered a semblance of a challenge or semi-equal wit, and it was both pleasant and addicting to have it in her.

"There isn't a need to govern chaos, much less to suppress it," she smiled gently. "There is beauty in it, and it is part of us human beings as much as it is of our greatest problems and most eloquent solutions."

Enver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and laugh in her face. There was no beauty in chaos or much less revelry, and while he agreed that chaos was innately human, he would never dare describe it as beautiful. Chaos did not provide any eloquent solutions but caused endless problems, which in turn only caused suffering. Her youthful, altruistic nature was nearly adorable - how delightful it would be for him to turn it around. He did savour a challenge, after all.

"I see," Enver nodded. "So your idea of a government is for it to do nothing."

"No," Elodie frowned. "Besides, you -"

Their conversation was cut short as the grand oak doors leading to the ducal offices opened, and Duke Portyr and Duke Liardon stepped out with grim looks and hastened steps. Whatever previous meetings they had been in - and Enver assumed it was trade-related, as most things were these days - it likely wasn't fruitful or congenial, which meant he would have to amplify his charms if he wanted to convince the oaf Portyr of the vision he held for the Tymanther-Unther War. He scrutinised the two men as they prattled in hushed voices, tension clear on their faces as both looked near furious at the other, the vexation bubbling just beneath the surface. A peculiar sight, Enver noted, yet he continued to observe, hoping the already visible tension would translate itself into something further - as it always threatened to.

From the handful of encounters Enver had with Duke Thamior Liardon, he had gathered that the man was as stoic as can be, deep brown eyes constantly assessing and calculating as he carefully observed those around him. For an elf, the man was rather tall and imposing, and while his rather charitable ventures made him a somewhat popular fellow among Baldurians, Duke Liardon was possibly the single person in this plane Enver could never quite make sense of. He knew the Duke had engaged in ignoble dealings and immoral trades, the man's history strangely interwoven with Enver's own and yet neither had ever mentioned it to the other. To know of the truth, to be conscious of another reality while dancing around carefully constructed tales had created a strange diorama between the men who otherwise did not engage with each other, though Enver anticipated the day he finally put Duke Liardon in his rightful place.

To repudiate morality while laying claim to it was one thing, though Enver did not care for liars. But a man who dealt with devils, no matter how beloved a politician, was no man he would protect when he inevitably rose above them. It was yet another process of arduous and ultimate subtlety in his ambition, his destiny, to be absolute.

"Papa," the girl next to him cleared her throat before she took assured steps towards Duke Liardon.

The two Dukes finally ceased their conversation, quick, easy and strained smiles placing themselves on their faces as Elodie approached them. Papa? Enver wondered for a brief second, though he wished to self-flagellate himself when he finally saw it. Of course - how could he have not seen it before?

He had felt the presence of nobility, understood she was wealthy beyond most people's means - she even looked like him. It was uncanny now that the girl stood in front of her father.

Enver Gortash, nee Flymm, rarely ever got excited, but that particular moment was something else entirely. Enver watched with sharp eyes as perhaps the most significant opportunity in his life arose - a culmination of years of hard work, careful planning and, in this case, sheer dumb luck.

Elodie - no longer an elusive noblewoman but the daughter of a Duke.

"Duke Portyr, Duke Liardon," Enver greeted the men. "How wonderful to see you."

"Likewise, Gortash," Thamior nodded curtly, his voice clipped as he mustered Enver. "I wasn't aware we were expecting company in the ducal offices today."

"I invited him," Portyr retorted. "We were to discuss some ... commerce strategies."

"Ah," the elven Duke nodded. "I see."

"I wasn't aware you were active in the political landscape, Sir Gortash," Elodie cut in, a curious look on her face as she retrenched this new information.

Before Enver could answer her, her father cut in, an incredulous "You know him?" spilling from the collected Duke's lips. It was the first time Enver had seen the barest hint of emotion on the man's face. He stored that information away immediately. Knowing the Achilles Heel of another was always valuable, particularly for a Duke who shamelessly bargained with infernal beings without so much as an ounce of contrition. Not that Enver was any better.

"We met at the Breaking," Enver explained with a small nod.

"I actually introduced them," Portyr exclaimed happily. "They were rather dashing on the dancefloor if I do say so myself." Enver nearly snorted as he glanced at the barest hint of displeasure and ire on Thamior Liardon's face. Achilles Heel, indeed.

"I wasn't aware matchmaking was an area of your expertise, Dillard."

The Duke laughed dismissively, the sound echoing through the grand halls of the ancient halls. "Your daughter has grown up," he remarked with a hint of both condescension and amusement.

Enver was confident he would have been privy to a fight between the Dukes then and there had Elodie not intervened with a chagrin giggle.

"Be that as it may, Mama has asked you to join her at Figaro's before the council is in session later today. Something along the lines of your doublet needing to be fixed?"

The Duke begrudgingly complied, uttering a quick "Until later" before he scurried towards the exit, a chamberlain and guard rushing to follow him before Enver was left in the company of Elodie and Duke Portyr, who conveniently excused himself with a cheeky wink. Enver carefully quelled the instinct to be overzealous, opting instead to maintain his characteristic veneer of stoicism. However, beneath his near-impenetrable façade, the prospect of engaging with her further was a discrete thrill, an emotion as perplexing as it was involuntary.

"I see my father is no votary of yours," Elodie broke the silence.

Enver barked out a laugh. If only she knew. Her father was a man shrouded in more secrecy than most Baldurian's would ever know, hardly the paragon of justice some had made him out to be and even less the devout Lathander disciple his Cleric wife had allegedly turned him into. But if they had all accepted the lie, Thamior Liardon had imposed on them – if all his records and annals told the same tale – the lies passed into the narrative and became truth. It was yet another testament to humanity's flaws, for most could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality, simply swallowing everything they were given without a second thought. How much they could thrive under leadership like his...

"We do not see eye to eye," Enver cryptically replied after a while. One day, he would use the lack of her knowledge against her, but in that singular moment, it had been far more sensical to omit the truth in favour of her trust.

"I'm not surprised," Elodie mused. "He's no fan of control."

"A sentiment you see to share," Enver retorted.

"I do," she nodded resolutely. "Control and power are not a means, Sir Gortash. They are an end. Tyranny itself is deeply rooted in the chaos you desperately seek to eliminate."

"I beg to differ."

"Do you?" Elodie tilted her head. "One does not establish tyranny in order to safeguard people from chaos; one sows it to establish tyranny. Sarevok himself used chaos as a means to establish his own."

"Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn," Enver interjected, befuddled. "Bhaal's scions never sought anything but conflict. It was quite literally bred into them." - and still was, he nearly said, but the girl likely lived under the belief that any Bhaalspawn had long perished.

"And yet he sowed enough chaos to nearly be crowned a Duke of this city, which would have enabled his own tyrannical rule and end in Bhaal's name." She hummed for a second as if deep in thought. "Faith is both an anchor and an excellent catalyst for indoctrination, you know."

"Aren't your parents known Lathander worshippers?" Enver asked incredulously. Such words were hardly those of a faithful.

"I am too," Elodie confessed. "And yet my point stands. How often have wars been fought in the names of gods, if only to establish something purportedly better? How often has faith been used to establish means of control, yet only chaos was left in its wake?"

Clever as she was, Enver had begun to see her point, though he certainly did not agree with her conclusion. While Sarevok's folly had been nought but chaos and destruction, it was hardly reflective of faith but more a reflection of the god. A god such as his Lord Bane would bring eternal peace, though yes, also fear, yet the brief struggle would culminate in peace if only people would see and bend to the whim of his dreaded Lord. Obedience alone was not enough unless there was suffering for a brief second in which human minds were torn apart and put together again in the shapes of his own choosing.

Enver surmised, with a grin, that Elodie was correct.

Chaos was, if only briefly, a vital aspect to assured peace and if a collective god would sow it upon all until they bend to his will - an imposture of manufactured chaos, which may have been unreal yet vitally important. His mind twisted and turned endlessly, rapidly altering and revising as Enver realised just how useful chaos could be if only treaded with trepidation, contempt, adulation, and orgiastic triumph.

"I see your point," he eventually grinned. "After all, the faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

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captainmera · 1 year

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What are the fairy types??? I love IBWR and I would eat your world building if I could <3

There is three categories of peculiars: Erebus, Beast and Fae.

Fairies belong with FAE types.

Fae has, in the UK, these peculiars: Fairies, Spriggan, Nymph (Theodore would call them a Huldra or skogsrå), and Giants.

FAE: Fairy like by looks but often the most "human/regular" looking out of all peculiars. Usually it's the ears or size that gives them away. Their powers are often just seen as either what peak-human-power would be (like strength, skill, etc)

Peculiars can be from all walks of life. They can have any religion, gender, background and race. It doesn't matter.

QUICK FACTS:

Faries are, in a largely Christian society anyway, associated with the seven sins.

They are also easily spotted by their stark colour coded looks.

The shades vary a bit on the scale, there's no set colour of "Pink" for example, but if you look at them and think "ah that's pink" it's probably pink.

A fairy can get a child of any colour of the parents' eye colour. So if it's a pink fairy father, but a green-eyed regular mother, the baby could be either a pink or green fairy - or a regular!

But it's usually the eye-colour that determines it.

Or, wild card - night fairies just kind of come out of nowhere and it's a 1 out of 500 chance of that happening. They're rare.

FAIRY FLAWS:

Fairies have something called a fairy flaw, this is where the seven sins thing come in.

In folklore, fairies are said to be so small that they can only hold one feeling at the time! (like Tinkerbelle from Peter Pan). This is obviously not true! Not only are they human sized, but they feel just as any other mortal person.

The reason fairy tales say that about fairies is based on their fairy-flaw.

So what is the flaw about?

Well, every fairy has an Achilles heel feeling they just can't seem to temper or control. It's the emotion that consumes them and it is very difficult for them to get out of that feeling.

You could say that about a regular-person too, some regulars just feel a certain thing very intensely. But it makes the general public feel better to point at fairies and say they're not perfect - just look how petty they are!

Also, it is true that all fairies just.. naturally struggle with this one emotion they have. For some fairies, it can take a lifetime to find a way to work with it. But most fairies just try to avoid feeling it at all, which.. as you can imagine.. causes an endless cycle of rinse and repeat - you cannot stop yourself from feeling something. That's not how emotions work. And if you try to repress something, it will come back ten folds.

Which, then, just further feeds into the prejudice being true.

FAIRY PERKS (gift):

Fairies are naturally gifted. It can be anything; writing books, making shoes, mathematics, music, you name it.

You know how, sometimes, you meet someone and they just got IT, with seemingly no effort at all? That's fairies.

They pick something up and off they go. You spend your life honing your craft and in waltz this newbie and does in an hour what you worked your whole life for.

Everyone admires them, except the people in the shared field who feels like they've been cheated.

Fairies are almost always excluded from talent shows, being chosen as representatives, etc, because the unionised opinion is that: Albeit they are brilliant at what they do, and probably the best in the room, it's a gift and it's unfair and nobody really wants to include them.

This also means that if you hire a fairy, the standards go up. Fairies can face work environment bullying or praise, it depends on the individual space. But it's always a gamble, really, if their gift is welcomed or not.

It does give some fairies a sense of "I'm better than all of you anyway!" kind of attitude, sometimes, anyway. But it's easy to see why.

No fairy is the same, of course. Fairies often have discourse about whatever or not their perks and flaws are something to be proud of or not. Which, gets really difficult, for the purple and green fairies sometimes.

The issue here is, also, that Fairies fade if they don't get to do what they love, get to exercise their gifts. And sometimes, most of the time, they

FADING:

Fading is just a fancy word for depression. Because regulars make the rules and they don't think it counts as "real" depression, since it almost always involves their perk/gift.

Fading looks like any depression. Sometimes involving substance abuse.

The things that DOES make it a bit different though is that their colours fade. They bleak and their hair and eyes colour turns white, or at least their colour bleak so much that it turns pastel-almost-white.

A faded fairy is cause for concern as they are most likely going to commit suicide. The only cure is rehabilitation where they get encouraged to pursue their heart's desire and exercise their gift.

Sometimes, the reason they fade isn't because others has made it difficult. Sometimes it's because there's just... No space for their gift. It might be a gift that is just simply inaccessible to them. Whatever because they're in the wrong class of society, because they don't have the money to get a degree that allows them to pursue it, etc.

NIGHT FAIRIES:

These are not categorised as a fae-type, but they are fairies. They are categorised as an Erebus due to their dangerous nature.

They are almost always mellow and flat in their expression. They like being in solitude, they are - on surface anyway - to the victorian public... Seemingly evil.

They work just like any other fairy. Except, that, well.... they do not have a flaw.

And that's the only danger they pose. That's literally it. People just don't know what's up with them. And it makes people uncomfortable that they have a gift (that often exceeds even other fairies talents) without carrying the restraints of a flaw.

They just don't emote like everybody else, they're basically just autistic coded people - the autistic creature if you will.

Night fairies are deemed dangerous because, to the victorian scope of knowledge and cultural/religious reference, you don't look like that, is a fairy ontop of it with no flaw to boot, and there's not at least SOMETHING spooky going on.

Fae-type fairies, unfortunately, does not like them much. As their lack of a flaw makes them, well, there's just grounds for being resentful apparently.

The Erebus sub-culture enjoy them quite a lot though. They're the baby brother of the Erebus types.

Most Erebus, when meeting a night fairy, is going to feel for them the way they would feel for any other Erebus. Which is a look of comradery that other peculiars just don't have. And because Erebus types are pretty tightly knitted in comradery, they're aware of one another's struggles. Meaning that they are aware Night Fairies are technically the least threatening peculiar there is, but no other peculiar is going to side with them. So most Erebus types just rope in these defenceless outcasts because it's just not fair.

And Erebus knows all about it not being fair.

So yeah! Night fairies are the least dangerous or powerful peculiar, slotted in with the most powerful and dangerous of them.

it's like the bullied kid is placed amongst the jocks and the jocks are good guys actually.

The night fairies do struggle socially though. Despite their seeming disinterest, they are not heartless or unfeeling. They just struggle to emote and have a hard time with being overstimulated. Which is why they turn to their gifts to cope, leading them to often far surpass any other fairy.

Erebus types are, like, kind of aware of this and often just include them on sight. It's a thing. Most erebus are brought up with the notion that you don't mess with night fairies.

Some erebus, though, have cruel intentions and take advantage of their lack of social skill, often hiring them for their gift and misusing it.

Night fairies also, unfortunately, if they are gifted in something that involves social things - like music, and they are expected to perform in front of crowds, it can be means to cause them to fade.

Sometimes, having a gift isn't about making a buck on it. Sometimes it's simply because it's nice for your heart. And that's the essence of night fairies - they just love what they do. It's everyone else who's got a problem.

AND THAT ABOUT COVERS IT, I THINK???

I'm sure I missed something. There's some peculiar culture stuff that's a little too much to get into. And doesn't really serve much purpose other than be-riching the world I've created and alows me, the authour, to imply cultural codes and social systems in the world without having to always spell it out.

Oliver, for one, is going to be aware of these things. While Theodore is not.

#ibwr #in blood we rise #ibwr lore #ibwr world building #*chuckles* and then there's just night fairies #night fairies really just be sitting here all “????” while everything happens around them

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palindrome-mystery · 2 months

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I know I'm late to the game but I started reading Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympus and am now about half way through House of Hades and am constantly being thrown off by how mean people are to Nico.

Not action-wise, people are more or less cordial to him, but thought-wise they are complete jerks. The characters thoughts about Nico are always like he's creepy, makes them uneasy, and the poor geriactric teenager has done nothing to deserve that. He's just existing and people are hating on him.

Percy wanted to "wring the kids neck" for not telling him he knew who Percy was when he had amnesia, even though at that time Percy knew about Hera/Juno's exchange student plan and Nico telling him would have ruined the Greek/Roman plan from the start. And Percy had also been frustrated at Nico for "not crawling away faster" from the Titans after nearly dying in the bronze jar and waking up from a death trance. Have some compassion!

Frank wanted to drop kick him into a canal because Hazel breathed in poison. He was more mad at Nico than the actual monster for what reason?!

And Percy and Annabeth had (seemingly unintentionally albeit) spread rumors about Nico to Piper and Jason. Annabeth told Piper she thought Nico had a crush on Annabeth from the time she helped rescue him and his sister, and that tainted Piper's view of him a bit thinking Nico might be jealous of Percy. And although the PJO series is only from Percy's perspective so possible unreliable narrator at that time, but there was no hint Nico had a crush on Annabeth in those books so Annabeth speculating that seemed weird. (Nico did blush quite a bit during a convo with Juniper the Nymph and Percy in book 5, but that was probably because of Percy... I may not have gotten to that part in the series yet but I've seen enough fanart to know who Nico had a crush on at that time).

And Percy had told Jason he didn't know where Nico's loyalties lie?! Like the kid tricked you ONE TIME to get Hades to tell him about his life pre-memory-wipe and who his mom had been. Nico had said multiple times (with various levels of distress) that Hades had promised not to hurt Percy and let him go but the kid didn't know about making people swear on the River Styx to bind a promise at the time. He then went against his father, busted Percy out of Underworld jail, got him to the River Styx to get the invincible Achilles curse, and stayed in the Underworld to try to get Hades to join the battle of Manhattan because Percy told him to even though Nico had told him how scared he was of his dad because he had JUST betrayed his dad for Percy 2 minutes ago! AND THEN NICO SHOWS UP TO THE BATTLE OF MANHATTAN WITH NOT 1 BUT 3 GODS! Nico convinced not only his dad Hades, but also his step-mom Persephone and step-grandma Demeter (both of whom did not like him as Hades's affair child) to join the battle! AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE HIS LOYALTY LIES PERCY?!

I've seen the fanart and know things get better for Nico eventually, but can these "heroes" treat the poor geriatric teenager with just basic kindness?!

#pjo #nico di angelo #seriously 6 out 7 of them are assholes to him

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winterrrnight · 1 year

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omg congrats on 100 my love! i’ve said it once i’ll say it a million times- you deserve all of them and so many more ♥️ i’m so proud of you!!

that being said!! can i request ‘before the coffee gets cold’

28 with drew PLS PLS PLS

thank you soooo much raye!!! you mean the whole world to me, and you've been a supporter since the beginning <3 i love you sooo much <3

our convo about me wanting to open a book shop + coffee shop really striked to me and i thought to include that au idea in this request! I hope you like it 🤍

coffee hearts

PAIRING: drew starkey x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you own a 2-in-1 book store and coffee shop, but you're usually working at the coffee shop side. a new customer who catches your eye because he loves to read books becomes a daily customer at your place, and you find yourself falling a bit more for him every single day.

WARNINGS: fluffy

EDITH SPEAKS: this is for everyone who wishes to bond with someone over their love of books. I promise you, someone is out there who's obsessed with reading and fictional worlds just the way you are, who will read with you whenever you want, who will listen to all your book rants. It's only a matter of time <3

PROMPT REQUESTED: "you need to know that I've grown to care for you. Deeply."

100 followers celebration (now closed) || navigation

You were cleaning the counters, quickly wiping your cloth against the marble to rid it of its stains. It's only been just an hour since you opened up your shop, so there aren't many customers. It's all very relaxed at the moment, and you have enough time to prepare the few desserts you were thinking of earlier.

The ringing of the bell cuts through your thoughts and you look up to see someone walk in front the bookstore section of your shop. You smile at him as he reaches you; now standing opposite you. You can't admit but think he's kind of pretty.

"Hello, how can I help you?" You smile, getting your notepad and pencil quickly.

"Hey, could I get a hot mocha with a strawberry scone?" He says. You nod as you write it down on your notepad. When you look up again, you notice he's holding 'A Little Life' in one hand.

"Looks like you're in for a ride," you giggle, gesturing to the book in his hand.

"Oh my god is it actually as depressing as everyone says? I thought they all were just exaggerating," he says, and you giggle a little harder at his words.

"Yes it is! But it's also one of the most beautiful book I've ever read. Reading it is definitely a roller coaster of emotions, but it's all worth it," you smile at him. He returns you the smile as you leave your place at the counter to go and prepare his coffee. Instead of sitting down at one of the tables, he decides to sit on the barstool right in front of your counter.

When you turn around, you weren't expecting to see him sitting there. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at the quick eye contact you make, immediately returning to your work. Once you've made his coffee and placed his scone on a plate, you go ahead to hand it to him.

"There you go," you say, wiping your hands on your towel as the aroma of the coffee and the scone rises up and mixes in the air surrounding you two.

"This looks absolutely wonderful, thank you," he says, before diving in. There's so much you could do at the moment: prepare the desserts you wanted to in advance, get some coffee going for the afternoon rush, or just help your friend who works at the bookstore section of your shop while you're free, but instead you decide to stay here with this unknown person who suddenly is the only thing on your mind.

"What else do you like to read?" You ask, your elbows on the counter as your hands prop up your face.

"Classic literature, mostly, but I do like to read some of these uh... popular books every now and then," he smiles, biting into the scone.

"Well, if you're looking for popular book suggestions, I would love it if you can read 'The Song of Achilles'. Another roller coaster of emotions. It had me sobbing at 3 am in my room," you laugh reminiscing your memory of crying over a book which stole your heart with its perfect love story.

"I've heard so much about it! What's it about?" He questions.

You take in a deep breathe, ready to give him a detailed synopsis about everything in that book. "Its about two lovers Achilles and Patroclus..."

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Since then, this guy, whose name you learnt is Drew, has been coming to your coffee shop almost every single day. You've memorised his order by heart, and you have it ready just a few minutes before his daily arrival time. You always find yourself awaiting for him, taking a peek outside the window every few minutes to see if he's there or not. When your eyes do spot him, they light up like the stars.

"Hey," Drew says cheerfully, as he walks inside and gives you a big hug from his side of the counter. You notice him keep a book next to himself on the counter, and you almost squeal when you look at the title.

"You got The Song of Achilles oh my god!" You yell, trying your best to contain your excitement but failing miserably.

"I haven't started reading it yet, but I'm so excited for it," he smiles at your giddy reactions, your eyes wide and the most beautiful smile etched on your lips. "But there's something I want to give to you."

You watch him curiously as he pulls out another book from his tote bag. It takes you a second to figure out the title on top, but when you do, you realise it's 'Pride and Prejudice'. There are coloured tabs sticking out of the margins of the book, the book is a little torn at the edges indicating it's been used well, and it's also a bit thicker than its original thickness, and you realise it's because of all the post its and notes he's attached in the book.

"You told me you've wanted to read to Pride and Prejudice for so long now," he says softly, "so I got you my annotated version of it. I hope it tells you a lot more about me, things not many people know." He smiles, moving the book closer to you. You remember one of your conversations with him in which you casually mentioned you've never read Pride and Prejudice but have always wanted to, and your heart flutters thinking how he remembers such a little detail.

You look at the book; actually, scratch that; you look at the treasure in front of you with awe. Drew's annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice is sitting in front of you, and it's too tempting to just start reading it right now.

You believe annotations can tell you so much about a person, things tucked so safely in their soul which are only revealed at rare moments. And to have Drew's annotated copy with you, you know you're in for a big ride.

"Drew this is, wow," you whisper, holding the book so carefully in your hands, as if you're worried it's so fragile it will fall apart right at the moment. "Thank you," you look up from the book to see his deep blue eyes looking back at you.

He ever so gently says your name, in a way which makes your heart rush a million miles per hour, and takes your hand in his. "I've never given my annotated copy of any book to anyone ever before," he says. Drew swallows the big lump in his throat before continuing. "You need to know that I've grown to care for you. Deeply. That's why I want you to read it."

You cannot believe what you're hearing. You feel your heart brimming with emotions, and in just a span of a second you wrap your arms around him, pulling him so close to you.

"This means so much to me," you smile, pulling back from the hug. "Thank you Drew."

He only smiles at you, and when you're called from inside the kitchen from one of the chefs, he follows your figure going away as if he's found his whole world in you.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #written by edith! 🪄#edith's 100 followers celebration! 🪄

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babyrdie · 7 months

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Hermes and divine horned babies

If I had a nickel for every time there was a myth involving Hermes with a divine horned baby, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice

I was supposed to be finishing my Artemis and Apollo WIP, which has been incomplete for days, but here I am with another Hermes. I think I'm going to have to draw Hermes again because twice I chose the worst possible framing and pose for him, because in this position 1) chlamys covers him a lot 2) his arm covers too much chlamys

Moving on! I had drawn this Hermes with Dionysus before (I posted it yesterday, more specifically), but I took the opportunity to be inspired by the Hymn to Pan. When I read it months ago, I thought it was cute how Hermes, upon seeing Pan, didn't feel at all bothered by his unusual appearance and was happy to see him. He picked him up and took him to Olympus and the gods were happy, especially Dionysus (who, by the way, is a deity often associated with satyrs). So, besides the similarity of being Hermes and a divine horned baby, putting this drawing of Dionysus back here for the connection between him and Pan as well.

Yes…I've been training how to draw babies because I had never drawn one before Achilles. How did you find out?! Certainly not because I have already drawn Thetis with baby Achilles, Hermes with baby Dionysus, now Hermes and Pan and I am still considering drawing Apollo with baby Hermes.

Pan's design is a bit of an obvious thing, I guess? In his Hynm it says that he was already somewhat "developed" in terms of fur and had goat-like characteristics, so that's what I did. A bearded baby. But it also said he was a happy, noisy baby, so he's giggly instead of the calmer face I did in Achilles and Dionysus.

As for my Hermes, in the drawing with Dionysus he's normal, but in the drawing with Pan you can notice that his face is a little strange because he's actively making an expression instead of just existing. Like, not blatantly weird, but his eyes don't quite follow the change in expression right? As incredible as it may seem, it's supposed to be strange. I swear this time it wasn't exclusively the fault of my serious problem making expressions in digital drawing!

I wanted him to look a little unnerving, the kind that gave off a slightly untrustworthy air, like a nod to Hermes' association with cunning. That's why I decided to make his petaso shadow his face, I chose facial features that gave him a more "mischievous" look and I drew eyes that, regardless of his expression, still looked a little strange. In short: I wanted him to have an appearance that, when he smiled, seemed a bit artificial to give him an air of untrustworthiness. Also, about the tooth gap visible now that I made him smile, this was intended to resemble a hare since it's one of the animals associated with Hermes.

#Pan #Pan Deity #Hermes #Dionysus #Tagamemnon #Greek Mythology #Greek Gods #IK #Digital Art #Artists on Tumblr

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i-who-has-never-had-a-name · 8 months

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Books I will never read

1. Anything by Haruki Murakami, but especially Norwegian Wood.

I've read Kafka on the Shore halfway through and stopped. Also that one handjob scene....no. why. He's a huge misogynist who I do not want to support. I've heard about that one scene in Norwegian Wood with the father's picture...yikes. I like literary fiction the most, which means I want well-written characters meaning all of them should be well-written and have a soul, yes even the female ones. I saw that one picture of pseudo intellectual Harry Styles being in bed reading Norwegian Wood...at this point why? Why do we not question this? I sometimes wonder if this is all an inside joke I'm not into.

2. Any CoHo/Emily Henry/Tiktok romance book

No explanation needed. I'm in a happy relationship and I don't have a son with big balls.

3. Any splatterpunk book (Eric LaRocca's books, Playground)

I like disturbing books, I have nothing against brutal/disgusting scenes and such, but it has to have a purpose. You cannot write such sick, twisted things just for shock value, because you are a writer and should at least be a good one. Splatterpunk writers don't care about that. They write the most sick, twisted things that a human could come up with. It's not revolutionary but tasteless shock. Those people don't love literature, they love gore. It doesn't help that the vast majority of those authors are men and that they let their female and their younger characters experience a lot of pain. They get away with their blatant sadism and sexism by categorizing it as "splatterpunk".

4. That Icebreaker book

Not just bc it's a tiktok romance book, but specifically bc it reminds me of that one tiktok named Kierra I think who was widely sexist and rude and evil to a hockey player's wife just bc she said she didn't want her to make anymore sexual comments about her husband and the father of her child. Wild. You should definitely look into it.

5. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Torture Corn really. Straight women writes queer male characters are tortures them. We've all seen it, really.

6. Any self help book

Pure Scams. It is capitalist propaganda that your problems are based of your material conditions but are purely isolated from the rest of the world and as long you buy my book in which I give you a list of what to do, you won't be happy. When you give me your money, you'll be happy, really!

It definitely doesn't help that most of those authors are white, male and rich.

7. Books with queer male romance written by straight women

I'm not saying straight women don't have the capability to write well-written male queer characters, I'm just saying that there's a pattern...

I've come to this conclusion after reading the beloved "Song Of Achilles". There's a lot of critique I have with this book, mainly it's portrayal of queerness.

8. Any Books by J.K Rowling, including Harry Potter

Transphobic asshole and not that good of a writer.

9. Tolstoi's works

I'm sure he is great writer. Sometime when I'm old and grey I'll try reading War and Peace. But now, I'm too dumb for that.

10. Any of those celebrity authobiographies

I have my own life. I truly don't care and if I do I'll just watch some YouTube video instead of wasting my money. They're so painfully ghost written. Hate ghost written books, they can be so soulless. You can't really get an objective look at things bc the books are obviously biased. Look at that Prince Harry biography. You feel bad for him bc his wee-wee got frostbite without him actually addressing his partaking in the iraq war.

#books #the song of achilles #colleen hoover #leo tolstoy #haruki murakami #splatterpunk #icebreaker #prince harry #harry potter #j.k. rowling #Norwegian Wood

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lumityfication · 1 year

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ranking my favorite percabeth scenes (in pjo only not hoo) because i need to get this off my chest

(disclaimers that this is def pretty percy centric but that’s bc pjo is from his pov, i haven’t reread hoo recently enough!! and ik the first scene im mentioning is also very popular but i feel like we can always be talking about it more. this is my ramble i can do what i want)

1. for me my favorite scene in any rick riordan book will be when annabeth takes the knife for percy in TLO and then when they’re on the rooftop afterwards. she’s literally his achilles heel. he didn’t tell her where his weak spot is but she took the knife anyway. Get back no one touches her. him letting her feel the spot on his back. You’re cute when you’re worried your eyebrows get all scrunched up. sorry i’m crazy

2. when they got paired up for war games in BOTL and percy said “nice” and annabeth just said “your armor’s crooked” and fixed his straps. I think about it so often

3. annabeth sitting with percy at the poseidon table in BOTL. She was sitting next to me. i mean Right next to me. him saying he liked the fact that she broke the rules to sit w him. the other campers looking….. they’re besties your honor

4. when they’re doing the cabin inspections in TLO and annabeth is cleaning up her stuff in the athena cabin and she’s like This whole thing with beckendorf and silena makes you think about what’s important. about losing people that are important and percy short circuiting and thinking abt how he could only focus on the earrings she was wearing. i hold them in my hands

5. percy’s panic when he thought annabeth was going to go with the hunters of artemis. he literally just got her back he was so scared that he’d lose her for real this time … the way he stutters makes me spin in a circle really fast like i just love the ttc angst pushing them into realizing what they truly mean to each other

6. underrated SOM moment is after scylla and charybdis when it’s just percy and annabeth in a little lifeboat before arriving at circe’s island, and when percy snaps at annabeth and she apologizes hes like i can’t resent her we’ve been through so much together there’s no point in holding a grudge…. my babies!!! (SOM percabeth is just too underrated like to me it’s when they really start to understand each other, what makes them tick, what the other has gone through, it puts them on the same page which sets up their dynamic in the rest of the series)

7. when annabeth is passed out in SOM and they have the fleece on her and percy whispers “you’re a genius” to her because he promised to tell her that if they made it out alive 😭😭

8. percabeth in the attic in TLO getting the great prophecy and reminiscing and then locking eyes and percy remembering another time they were alone together when annabeth kissed him in mt st helens. crazy scene it’s CRAZY

9. annabeth’s reaction when percy shows up back at camp after being at calypsos island. he was the bravest person i’d ever known… he’s…. HES RIGHT THERE!! is just SO ICONIC and her hugging him so fiercely :(((( he literally crashes his own funeral and annabeth being mad at him but also clearly incredibly relieved makes my heart ache even if it’s silly. such a tragedy that we don’t get annabeths pov in pjo because i would have loved to know how she was feeling in the like two weeks where she thought percy was gone

and then there’s obvious ones like the underwater kiss, “a kiss for good luck it’s kind of a tradition right”, mt st helens, aphrodite looking like annabeth, giving up immortality, and pretty much everything percabeth in TLT i feel like is discussed so much too bc of the show lmao

anyways girls when they reread pjo and notice even more little percabeth moments every time they read it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🤯🤯🤯😭😭😭😭😭😭

#sorry if i clog up the tags w these rambles but if anyone else feels as insane as i do abt these moments i want to be discussing it #percy jackson #percabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #annabeth chase

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jeannereames · 9 months

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If you could change or insert one aspect of the common pop culture picture most people have in their heads when they think about ATG what would it be?

I'm going to jump this in the queue because I can answer it swiftly, but also because I have TWO things that are personal pet peeves.

FIRST: That "historians" keep insisting Alexander and Hephaistion were "just good friends" in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary.

SECOND: Alexander called Hephaistion his Patroklos (to his own Achilles), and they used this comparison frequently throughout their lives.

So, let’s take on the “Fake News,” shall we?

The notion that "historians" keep insisting Alexander and Hephaistion were "just good friends" in the face of what would seem clear evidence to the contrary is over 50 fucking years out of date.

Are there “historians” out there who say that? Sure. But they tend to come in two flavors: 1) people who aren’t specialists, Hellenists, or even historians,⸸ or 2) Greeks.* Since Badian, Green, Hamilton, and Schachermeyer (et al.) took over Macedonian/Alexander studies mid-century, few specialists claimed Alexander and Hephaistion couldn’t have been lovers, or Alexander couldn’t have been attracted to men. Even Hammond cagily acknowledged it.

Yet—TBH—I don't think those who repost that meme really care. They just want a convenient strawman/whipping horse to make them sound "smarter than the experts."

You don't. You sound as if you haven't read much about Alexander since about 1975. Historians who have died of old age by now said Alexander and Hephaistion were probably lovers.

But that raises another problem: the implication that anybody who might argue they aren't lovers must be an old, white homophobic dude. Again, this is wrong.

The current discussion centers more on source problems, and separates Alexander having male lovers from Alexander and Hephaistion being lovers themselves (not the same thing, actually). Those making the best argument for caution are young, very much not homophobic (but absolutely brilliant) women (e.g., Sabine Müller). Follow the link to see a picture of Sabine, if you don’t believe me. I don't agree with her, but you can't shoot down her argument by screaming "Homophobe!" at the top of your lungs. The points she raises are all good ones and any responsible (and smart) historian will take them seriously.

As for the Alexander-Achilles/Hephaistion-Patroklos pastiche… yeah, sorry, no.

I realize this torques off folks, as it’s become a mainstay of queer culture surrounding Alexander as a gay icon and owes more than a little to Miller’s The Song of Achilles.

Busting it probably makes me sound like a Grinch.

BUT…the facts just don't support it. Yes, Alexander compared himself to Achilles--but not as much as to Herakles and Dionysos. Not even close.

How do I know? I COUNTED THEM. Facts ... not impressions.

After all, looking closely at what the sources (not impressions) actually say about Hephaistion is how I came to the conclusion the man was a lot more important than heretofore recognized. 😉

Again, as I’ve said elsewhere, Alexander did compare himself to Achilles. That’s not in dispute … it just wasn’t as frequent or common as modern fans like to pretend. And Hephaistion was compared to Patroklos only twice. There’s also a problem with WHO made those comparisons: chiefly Arrian. Again, I’ve talked about this elsewhere, so won’t go over it again.

Yes, I made the comparison myself in Dancing with the Lion: Becoming. But it concerned one circumstance near that book’s end (not giving spoilers), and isn’t something they harped on otherwise. That mirrors how it appears in our sources: it’s limited, and situational.

“Patroklos” was not Hephaistion’s nickname. Wish folks would stop claiming it was.

—————

⸸ Just because somebody is tagged “historian” on a History Channel special—or his own private blog—doesn’t mean they actually have a PhD, or even a Master’s, much less one in ancient history, Classics, Classical archaeology, or ancient art history. The number of idiots on Tik-tok yapping about how Alexander thought this or did that—and clearly know jack shit—routinely stuns me…even while it doesn’t. Dunning-Kruger Effect all over the damn place.

* Greeks must often work within the confines of official narratives in order to secure jobs and funding, which can limit what they say on certain topics, from who’s buried in “Philip’s Tomb,” to the Greekness of the ancient Macedonians, to any possible homosexual “taint” staining Alexander’s greatness. This may swim against the current of academic discourse outside Greece, even by other Greeks. The Greek Ministry of Culture and Sport has softened on some of these topics in recent years, especially as LGBTQIA rights have gained better traction in Greece.

#asks #Alexander the Great #Alexander memes #Alexander in pop culture #Myths about Alexander in pop culture #Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Classics #what “real” historians actually say #ancient history #ancient Macedonia #ancient Greece

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choicesmc · 3 months

Text

Scars + Accessories

in accordance with [this] poll result <3

GENERAL STYLE

Sawtooth tends to prioritize movement >>> style. Being an avid traceur (and a complete show off), they want to be able to bust out moves whenever they want. So, his typical outfit is t-shirts, crop shirts, athletic shorts, and sweatpants. (<- likes to have fun with the words on their tshirt)

like below vv

With that outta the way, onto the good stuff!!

ACCESSORIES

Like I said, movement > style which cuts out chains (most necklaces + pant chains <- things they generally would wear elsewise). However, you know what that doesn’t include?

Piercings.

On each ear, they have a standard lobe piercing + three helix piercings. Right now, they have spike studs for the helix piercings (<- hc that he had to change it really last minute because their old earrings were silver and they just… forgot until, like, a week before the Blood Moon) The lobe piercing changes semi-frequently but tends to be plant/animal themed.

Why plant and animal themed you ask?

Sawtooth’s major. Sawtooth is in Woosley College as an Ecological Restoration major + has a huge love for the environment 💖you best believe they know a good chunk of the native species on campus + could tell you all the uses of achillea millefolium (western yarrow) without batting an eye. It’s genuinely a comfort spending time around local wildlife + yes, recounting species names off the top of their head is a legitimate calming strategy for him.

This also extends to their earrings. Having them in the shape of animals + plants especially if said flora + fauna are native to the region makes him really happy.

So in summary:

He has spike studs on their helix + changes out their lobe earring for different plants + animals. :D

also has a belly piercings <- but i don't have many hcs for that yet

Chokers/Collars are another accessory they like. He leans more chokers > collars though both are equally tricky for them. 1) the material can’t be too heavy or it feels like being restrained, 2) material can’t be odd textured else it’ll endlessly annoy him, and 3) (though this is less hard than the other two) avoid gemmed/pearled ones. <- He’ll definitely ruin them and/or scratch them so best to avoid that.

So this leaves their options at leather and lace. <- Lace is for special occasions ie parties, dressing up, etc and leather is what they’d wear day to day <3

(minor side note: o-ring chokers? That’s a huge chunk of their leather collars)

SCARS

Too many to count. We’ll break it down to prominent ones on different areas of the body (head, torso, arms + hands, legs + feet).

HEAD

one across the edge of their left eye

another across his nose

a short one behind his ear to the base of their head

TORSO

A majority of scars here are minor + on their lower back!!

Wraps around from lower back (think lumbar vertebrae section) and stops just beneath his tummy (<- also known as the laceration that made sawtooth thankful they got a tetanus shot <3)

ARMS + HANDS

Not a scar but has sprained their left wrist D:

Crush injury on two of his right fingers (pinkie + ring) from having a heavy door slammed on them

LEGS + FEET

Large healed over serious abrasion on their left knee (covers the entirety of their knee)

Avulsion wound on his big toe <- does not like talking about this one, actually

Abrasion on achilles tendon <3

Puncture wound on their heel (<- which he has also sprained)

#sawtooth #tiny tidbits #this was fun to put together!!

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chaotic-history · 2 months

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Thank you @enlitment for the book tag! Putting it in a new post since it's long. This probably isn't the best time to do this when my brain is still brain fogging, but here goes

Last book I read: The Satyricon by Petronius, specifically the 1694 translation (shoutout to V's birth year). It's the second most fully preserved Roman novel, and I don't know what I was expecting from it, but it's just kinda meh? In its defense, the translator has a very specific writing style that didn't read very smoothly for me, so I'm sure it's much better in the original. The best parts imo were Encolpius and the poet complaining about modern (ie, to them) things in the exact same ways that we complain about the exact same things now.

Book I recommend: The Terra Ignota series by Ada Palmer. It's a sci-fi series with a philosophical bent set in the year 2454 and written mostly in the style of the Enlightenment era (the narrator, Mycroft, has a very bad case of 18thC brainrot). One of the things it touches on really well is how gender is perceived in different ways according to different standards, and I don't want to explain that since I think you have to go into the book not knowing a lot-- it's throwing you into a society that's as different from ours as the 18thC is, and you're supposed to feel like that. And I know "the worldbuilding is good" is probably overused, but it really is; parts are fantastical enough to feel like it's verging on a dream, and it's grounded in enough of a potential reality to make even the impossible things seem achievable. Featuring a very politically significant 18thC brothel, the ghost of Thomas Hobbes, the actual Achilles, Humanists, the world's #1 unreliable narrator, and a sex scene taken almost word-for-word from de Sade until the reader asks the narrator to stop.

Also Candide because I need to keep up my streak of convincing people to read Candide.

Book I couldn't put down: Do not underestimate my ability to put down literally anything. That said, the fourth and last Terra Ignota book (can you tell I'm trying very hard to sell it?). I can't say much about it because almost anything at that point is a massive spoiler, but books 1-3 are all gradually building up to a major event in book 4, and it's sort of the quiet kind of suspense where you know what's going to happen, but all you can do is wait and see the extent of the damage, and the main focus of the tension even during it is how you're going to rebuild, and any solution is so painfully flawed but it's something and the narrative drags you along throughout all of it by the sheer force of its hope.

Book I've read twice: Quite a few, but my favorites that I've read multiple times are Catcher in the Rye and L'Immoraliste. I read Catcher in the Rye the first time for class, and I don't want to go on another long rant, but I love Holden so much and I'm incredibly glad that I read the book when I did; I can see so much of myself in him and having sympathy for Holden taught me that maybe I need to have a bit more sympathy for myself as well. Also, sorry Mrs. [redacted] for stealing your copy of the book. It wasn't on purpose but it'd feel weird to return it now.

L'Immoraliste I originally picked up at the library to read the first time because based on the year published and the title I assumed like a 90% chance of it being gay, then I fell in love with the writing style and so I reread it in French. The part where Michel is going out to lay in the sun naked (<- absolutely terrible desc. of it but I can't think of smthn better right now) is up there in my top three book scenes ever.

A book on my TBR: Way too fucking many, reader, way too fucking many. On the top of the list right now is Goethe's Faust since I'm intrigued by @iron--and--blood's Faust AU for Morton's Hope, and also since I should maybe read some philosophy that isn't just French (does Goethe count as a philosopher? At least by the 18thC definition I think he could). And Goethe said V was good, so at least I know he has good taste.

Also I should maybe finally start reading all the Molière/Racine/Corneille stuff I've been stocking up on lol.

A book I've put down: Voltaire et Frédéric II by Roger Peyrefitte. It sucks shit and I've tried to read it at least five times now and every time I have to stop because it makes me want to personally murder the author by like 50 pages in and I am not exaggerating in the least.

A book on my wishlist: There's a couple 1780s editions of Villette's works for sale that I like to look at every so often... I'm sure I'll eventually cave in someday but for now I'll keep trying to convince myself I don't need it.

A favourite book from childhood: I had to google a bunch of stuff to find this since I couldn't remember the title, but it's first book from the Epic Order of the Seven Series by Jenny L. Cote, about a bunch of talking animals during various Bible stories/major events (yes it is very weird). This one is about Noah's Ark, and since the animals were from all around the world, parts of their dialogue were written in a bunch of different languages with a little dictionary at the back which I thought was the coolest thing ever (it kinda is tbh).

A book you would give to a friend: Depends on the friend and what I think they'd like, but the last book I gave to a friend was Discourses on Livy since we were talking about The Prince.

A book of poetry/lyrics you own: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage! Yet another book I haven't gotten around to reading yet.

A non-fiction book you own: Changes in the Land by William Cronon. It's about the ecological changes in New England from before the Europeans arrived roughly up to 1800 and how the environment shaped and was affected by the economies of the Native Americans and the settlers, and one of the points that really stuck with me was that one of the major differences between the two groups' relationships with the environment was that the Native Americans primarily viewed resources as being valuable in terms of the function they served, while the settlers saw natural resources as being valuable firstly because they could be sold, and he talks about how it was that mindset which we still had today that made a healthy relationship between the colonists' economy and the environment unsustainable. It's also written in a way that's super easy to follow, even if you know nothing about ecology (which I do not).

Currently reading: The first volume of V's correspondance from the Garnier edition. So far I've made it up to 1731, and I realised I'm still thinking of him then as young V even though he's 37. There's so many gems in the letters though (especially to Thieriot) and it keeps leading me down a bunch of rabbit holes.

Planning on reading next: Faust!

Tagging: @ouiouixmonami, @acrossthewavesoftime, @apurpledust, @captainsamta, and @orchatab

#tag game

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menelaiad · 1 year

Note

Agamemnon is explicitly stated to be hot/muscular. It's in the source material. Books 2 and 3 in particular. I highly doubt being compared to the Gods meant being "chubby" or super old. The ancient text obviously wouldn't say "ripped" because that wasn't in their vocabulary. But they refer to him as everything else that such a body would imply.

And Achilles was saying things in anger in Book 1. Everyone forgets how in Book 23, Achilles pretty much retracts everything he said and claims Agamemnon is the best natural warrior which he was.

tldr; im a petty bitch

y'all are SO PRESSED ON THIS LMAOOO I'M CRYING

'ripped' isn't in their vocabulary?? but 'hot' and 'muscular' are? really?

AGAIN about your last point, cause people who are so pressed about this just keep ignoring it: YOU CAN BE A WARRIOR. AND NOT BE CONVENTIONALLY 'RIPPED'. NOTHING ABOUT A HUMAN BEING - A HUMAN MAN HAVING A SLIGHT TUMMY WILL STOP HIM BEING ABLE TO RUN, FIGHT, KILL PEOPLE AND BE A WARRIOR. YOUR WEIGHT IS NOT AN AUTOMATIC INDICATOR OF YOUR FITNESS LEVEL/ABILITIES.

that's y'alls prejudice about larger people coming through. this stupid belief that the ancient world represented 'the peak masculine alpha ideal' no????? this whole 'if man strong and can stab and have sex with woman then man must be muscley and ripped cause that make man sexy' like shut up.

it's baffling to me that you're all so heated on this. the mere thought of a human man having a tummy is sending you all west. you can't cope. a human man who consumed copious amounts of alcohol (because ancient greeks just did???) and probably had a very rich diet. having tummy??? NO. ILLEGAL.

im sorry but im cracking up over here. i couldnt care less whether people think aga has a 16-pack, that he's skinny as a twig, that he's fat, that he's not, that he's somewhere in between - idc. but your adamancy against 'slight tummy' aga. is just ..... fatphobic. and i never thought i'd type that word out being a fucking classics blog lmaooo.

i have shared so many DUMB opinions on this blog. from menelaus' teeth to odyssues' hairy feet and yet the thing that gets the most reaction from people - is agamemnon's weight.

that's what's pissing me off. everything else? whatever have your own opinion, you weird menelaus girl. but the sECOND i say why i think i character might be a lil chubby OOF ouTRAGE. IM A FOOL.

also your point is just so incredible. my issue isn't with you thinking aga was a ripped sex god crafted by aphrodite herself. it's your use of the word 'explicitly' cause aga's size (in regards to his weight) is NEVER explicitly stated ANYWHERE. so we're both just having our own opinions. but mine has got you so pressed????

i own a couple translations of the iliad. lets look at some. and see the descriptions of aga, shall we? cause i know exactly which sections you mean in book 2 and 3. contrary to your apparent belief, i have read the iliad.

we'll do book 2 first to make it all easier to follow:

PETER GREEN

“among them the lord Agamemnōn, in eyes and head like Zeus who delights in the thunderbolt, like Arēs in girth, and with the chest of Poseidōn. As one steer in a herd of cattle stands out, far above them all— the bull, distinguished among the cows assembled round it— such a one on that day Zeus rendered Atreus’s son, preeminent among many, of heroes the foremost.”

... again. nothing really? girthy??? eyes like zeus (nice)??? tall??? nothing about weight here babes.

CAROLINE ALEXANDER

there to go into combat, and with them was lord Agamemnon— his eyes and head like Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, his girth like Ares, his chest like Poseidon’s. As when an ox stands out from all others in the herd, a bull who is preeminent among the gathered cattle, so did Zeus on that day render the son of Atreus conspicuous amid the multitude, outstanding among warriors.

pretty much the same?? gets called an 'ox' here though. ooooh

ROBERT FAGLES.

and there in the midst strode powerful Agamemnon, eyes and head like Zeus who loves the lightning, great in the girth like Ares, god of battles, broad through the chest like sea Lord Poseidon. Like a bull rising head and shoulders over the herds, a royal bull rearing over his flocks of driven cattle — so imposing was Atreus' son, so Zeus made him that day, towering over fighters, looming over armies.

just more girth stuff. that can mean his shoulders?? his chest?? his ass? bro we don't know. was aga just THICC. his cheeks always alerting the trojans???

ROBERT FITZGERALD.

Agamemnon's lordly mien was like the mien of Zeus whose joy is lightning; oalken-waisted as Ares, god of war, he seemed, and deep-chested as Lord Poseidon, and as a great bull in his majesty towers supreme amid a grazing herd, so on that dav Zeus made the son of Atreus tower over his host, supreme among them.

i like this one tbf. this one has got more meat on it. 'oaken waisted'. nice nice. again. i don't see oak trees are particullarly 'narrow' but hey. interpretation is what makes this field so great.

RICHARD LATTIMORE

“powerful Agamemnon, with eyes and head like Zeus who delights in thunder, like Ares for girth, and with the chest of Poseidon; like some ox of the herd pre-eminent among the others, a bull, who stands conspicuous in the huddling cattle; such was the son of Atreus as Zeus made him that day, conspicuous among men, and foremost among the fighters.”

STANLEY LOMBARDO

To enter battle, and Lord Agamemnon Moved among them like Zeus himself, The look in his eyes, the carriage of his head, With a torso like Ares', or like Poseidon's. Picture a bull that stands out from the herd Head and horns above the milling cattle— Zeus on that day made the son of Atreus A man who stood out from the crowd of heroes.

SEE this one we're not even talking about his LITERAL appearance but how he's holding himself. how he acts. his CONFIDENCE. cool take, stan. i like it.

STEPHEN MITCHELL

“and among them was Agamemnon, his splendid eyes and head like almighty Zeus’s, his thighs like the thighs of Ares, his chest like Poseidon’s. As a bull stands out in a herd above all the others, sovereign among the cows as they graze in a field: just so, on that day, did Lord Zeus make Agamemnon supreme over all the warriors massed before Troy.”

LOVE the thigh mention Mitchell. nice nice.

'The ancient text obviously wouldn't say "ripped" because that wasn't in their vocabulary. But they refer to him as everything else that such a body would imply.'

bro all i'm getting is the word 'girthy'?? if you want me to be a bitch about it, that's not a word i'd put with someone who is 'ripped'. if anything, they're implying he got junk in his trunk. i truly hand on heart. cannot see anything in the book 2 translations that imply or indicate to me that he does not have a tummy. that he is rocking a six pack. WHICH IS FINE. we can play with it and form our own opinions. but you're THIS IMPLIES .... is wrong??? it doesn't imply anything dude????

all we can infer from any of the book two stuff is that he's a man who is larger than the other men around him - literally? metaphorically? we dont know. (which is all horseshit anyway cause priam later goes on to say he's a short arse which is helpful). and that he shares qualities with the gods. again, literally? metaphorically? bit of both? we. don't. know.

TIME FOR BOOK 3. the priam and helen thirst.

PETER GREEN

“and to put a name for me to that huge warrior down there, that Achaian leader, of such stature and so strong: others there may be taller still by a head, and yet so fine a man have I never set eyes on, nor one so majestic in bearing—he looks to be of royal blood.” helen later calls him a 'strong spearman'

CAROLINE ALEXANDER

tell me the name of this gigantic man, who is this Achaean man, good and great? To be sure there are other men even greater in height, but I have never beheld with my eyes a man so handsome, nor so majestic; for he seems a kingly man. helen later calls him a 'powerful spear-warrior'

ROBERT FAGLES

“ tell me the name of that tremendous fighter. Look, who's that Achaean there, so stark and grand? Many others afield are much taller, true, but I have never yet set eyes on one so regal, so majestic . . . That man must be a king!” helen later calls him a 'strong spearman'

ROBERT FITZGERALD

Come, tell me who the big man is out there, who is that powerful figure? Other men are taller, but I never saw a soldier clean-cut as he, as royal in his bearing: he seems a kingly man. helen later calls his a 'formidable warrior'

RICHARD LATTIMORE

“You could tell me the name of this man who is so tremendous; who is this Achaian man of power and stature? Though in truth there are others taller by a head than he is, yet these eyes have never yet looked on a man so splendid nor so lordly as this: such a man might well be royal.” helen later calls him a 'strong spearfighter'

STANLEY LOMBARDO

Now tell me, who is that enormous man Towering over the Greek troops, handsome, Well-built? I've never laid eyes on such A fine figure of a man. He looks like a king. helen later calls him a 'strong warrior'

STEPHEN MITCHELL

“Tell me now, what is the name of that splendid man who is standing down there, so powerful and so tall. To be sure, there are other men who are even taller, but never before have I seen a man so majestic, so splendid in form and bearing. He must be a king.” helen later calls him a 'mighty soldier'

again. in all of these - nothing. all that's consistent is that he's not the tallest man at troy. which means ..... very little ASDFGHJK. there is Nothing concrete here. nothing that points us more one way than it does the other.

ultimately, dude, what we've got is.... nothing. nothing concrete. nothing definitive. i can't say you're wrong and you can't say i'm wrong.

i saw the phrase 'wine sack' and interpreted it my way and you saw it and interpreted it differently. but books 2 and 3 certainly don't back either of us up more definitively.

and in regards to his age. same thing. you can't say i'm wrong and i can't say you're wrong. but i've explained my reasonings for aga's age using sources HERE

idk man. if you're looking for an EXPLICITLY YOUNG CHISELED ABS LEGEND MALE CHARACTER. look elsewhere.

#yes this is the pettiest and the bitchiest thing i've ever done #and i completely respect if y'all can't stand me afterwards #but it's not lost on me that the .... 'fat headcanon' so it were is the one that gets people mad #ask yourself - why?#i literally just wanted to show that there is nothing definitive in the 'source material'#cause there's not. homer had bigger things to deal with in the iliad. fair enough lad #also random fact: i did a search for 'muscle' in all texts cause i was curious #and it's 99% of the time talking about thighs.#i like your style homer #long post under the cut. no im serious

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