Hamsandwich4736251 - Hi Im New Here 🖕

He looks like he’s about to curse someone out omg

aesthetistt

Why are they both so pretty this is unfair

penelope didn't have to turn the tree bed into a riddle. she could have asked odysseus to prove his identity, to tell her something only he would know — which she actually did a few books earlier, when she asked the beggar to describe odysseus, and odysseus told her about a purple cloak with a particular golden brooch that she fastened herself twenty years ago. when penelope tells telemachus they have signs by which they'll know each other, you sort of expect more of the same. and instead, she decides to trap him. like a bug in a cup.

and it's delightful to me, idk, how odysseus has been trapped and cornered in various way throughout the odyssey, but arguably never so that he has to tell the truth to get out. (with the phaeacians, maybe? the omniscient narrator corroborates some of what he tells them, but do we really know everything?) and in fact he is not trying to get free of penelope. he wants something from her, wants to convince her, wants to be welcomed home, but until this point he's lied to her, revealed himself to other people before her, and been distant with her (though also patient! he doesn't try to strongarm or rush her into accepting him; it's his idea to sleep elsewhere).

except penelope isn't looking for him to be distant and patient. penelope lies in a way that requires odysseus to stop playing along — not only to prove that he knows what odysseus knows, but that he's willing to tell the truth about himself.

AHHHHHHSHJDJWJJWJKKSOJWICBQKDLSJDQKHJSCNKSNCKSKDNCKDNFKWKSMD WTF WHY IS THIS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT I WAS GOING DOWN THE EMYRS TAG RABBIT HOLE AND CAME ACROSS THIS AND HOLY FUCK ANDOZMISBCJAJKD

of the old religion

there are consequences to being a creature of magic, of the old religion, of power and energy given form.

merlin is not human, no matter what he thinks. the body he has is just a second skin, a coat over the tumultuous magic beneath, so that it had shape, form. he looks human, he thinks human, he feels human. but he is not truly human.

it’s why shapeshifting spells work so well upon him. he’s not changing himself, just the look of the skin he’s wearing. the magic beneath has no true form, and thus cannot be changed when it is everything everywhere all at once.

(the magic that makes merlin is the magic that makes the world, so it has no shape and to look upon it with mortal eyes would be a headache inducing, nauseating ever-shifting thing, that moves through different features of different magical beings like the water of a lake rippling.)

OR

someone with a deep connection to the old religion can see that emrys is no true human. just a creature of magic wearing a human skin, a shapeshifter that refuses to show its true form. (because people say emrys is magic, but no one truly understands the roiling thing living and breathing inside his skin. so obviously there has to be a true form of emrys underneath the image of merlin.)

so they decide to rip that human skin off. force the shape beneath to show itself. tear away the visage of merlin to leave behind only emrys, the creature that will bring magic back to the land or so help them.

it takes a lot of energy and power, and the use of ancient artifacts of the old religion that have been slowly gathering magic for centuries. but they manage it, they bind the human skin to an object, and tear the object away, to leave behind only emrys.

…

except emrys is not made for mortal eyes. especially not the eyes of someone who had hurt them and tore away their shape, their form. (because emrys, as a creature of magic, is still heartbreakingly young. a child, really. maybe that’s why merlin is still so wide-eyed all the time. still young at heart, even as his body looks older.)

so they look upon emrys and burn.

and emrys, lost and confused and hurt and not understanding— where is their body why do they hurt what is wrong with them they are constantly changing shapes and cannot control it and theyre so scared— flees to the only thing they know for sure. and behind them, amongst the mess of ash and scorched earth that once was alive, the object holding their skin lies abandoned, forgotten.

OR

arthur finds the embodiment of magic huddled up against his bedroom window. he doesn’t recognize it immediately as such, but it glows golden and cannot seem to stop subtlety changing shape and growing features that were not there before while losing others. and really, he picks up on the fact eventually.

to reiterate, arthur pendragon, son of the magic-hating king, a young man who had not yet decided if he would hate it the same, has the embodiment of magic hiding outside his window.

he shouldn’t open it. shouldn’t let the pathetic, forcing-itself-to-be-small thing inside.

it howls and cries without words, a sad and fearful air pressing down on him, begging begging helphelphelphelpsomethingswrongsomethingswrongtheytookawaymybodyarthurarthurarthurhelphelphelphelphe—

arthur opens the window.

as the magic flies in, it takes a more solid, in the loosest form of the word, form, dragon-like and small. young. it hides in the crook of his neck, tucks its head in close and shivers.

arthur feels almost like he has let in a frightened bird, it is so small and fluttery.

merlin’s gone missing and there is something small and magical and highly illegal hiding against the small hollow between his neck and shoulders.

he leaves it there.

OR

arthur holds a power he does not quite understand in his hands. he knows it is greater than its form, can feel the pressing weight of something that belies the tiny body.

he knows it is magic. perhaps that is all he really needs to know.

and then he does something that feels exceedingly foolish.

“i’m looking for merlin, my… manservant,” he begins, and the golden thing ripples like a lake in the wind, “can you find where he was taken?”

at least seven eyes blink into existence upon the roiling magical creature, all of them looking up at arthur. another blink, and then they vanish. in their place, wings sprout, some of them draconian in shape, others more bird-like and feathery.

a tail, tiny and yet impossibly strong, wraps around his wrist, and the thing takes flight, pulling him along.

the knights startle, when arthur appears, being seemingly dragged behind a creature no bigger than a songbird, and so breathtakingly magical in spite of it.

“well?” arthur asks, acerbic. “prepare your steeds. we’ve finally gotten a lead on merlin.”

OR

they find a wasteland.

there is nothing left alive in a large circle, all of it surrounding an ancient building now nothing but rubble. the life is not burned away, or diseased into nothing, or anything that could be argued as natural.

instead, it is a wasteland that magic had abandoned. that intrinsic thing within all things, alive and not, had fled this place, ushered out by a fearful and terrified little godling ripped away from the only skin-home it had ever known.

nothing lives here and nothing will ever live here.

it is an ill omen indeed.

and then they discover the sorcerer’s bones, and the fact that said sorcerer was not in fact working alone.

“you,” the only other living being in about a mile spits out like a curse, upon sighting the king, “what have you done with them? where is the being below the skin?”

none of the knights nor the king understand. the little creature of magic had hidden itself in the folds of arthur’s cape, another golden draconian insignia among the rest.

“the what?” arthur asks.

“where is emrys?” the sorcerer spits, summoning a stream of fire heading directly for the king.

magic itself, given form, bursts from the camelot red cape, all golden edges and vengeful anger, the tiny thing no larger than an arm suddenly expanding rapidly. it forms a gigantic serpent, or something like it, lithe and long, but with the beak of a bird of prey, eyes like a feline, a unicorn’s horn on its head. it eats the fire whole, and the giant form bears down on the suddenly cowering sorcerer.

“but—but we freed you,” they mutter, afraid, “we released you from the human shell containing you. how else… how else could you bring back magic…?”

the thing cannot speak, it has no way to do so. what it can do is press feeling into your head. whatever this is, it is so powerful everyone there can feel it, and perhaps even some that are much further away.

G I V E I T B A C K.

it feels nothing like the helpless pained crying that arthur had heard from outside his window, like a yowling alley cat. this monster is nothing like the little bird-like afraid thing that had hidden in his collar, tucked against his throat. this beast of dripping fangs and deadly edges is almost completely separate from the creature of fluttery wings and wide eyes.

and yet he can hear something distinctly afraid in the wailing howl.

it is still desperate and afraid. it’s just angry enough now to cover it up.

“Watch where the bird flies! It will lead us to–”

“The entire crew dying bc you gave away your address to one of the god’s bitch ass son”

“…What?”

“I SAID THE–”

“PolitiES DONT GO WHERE THE BIRDS FLY THEY WILL LEAD US TO DEAD”

I also did this. Apollo’s forgot about the loophole.

My girl Cassandra deserved a better fate. Let her be one of the Ithacan sisters.

Pov my girlfriend getting my attention

I miss you

Did you know?

I hear your voice in my ear

I feel your touch on my lips

I see hints of you everywhere

I miss you in the mannerisms i picked up from you

I miss you in the way my hands have the urge to move to scribble at your ribs

I miss you

I love you

I’ll see you tomorrow

Im losing my mind over the not so closeted closeted gays

Guess what I found in the BBC archives...

(absolutely nothing so I had to make my own lost footage) Video edit under the cut <3

Shit man I was expecting a boss fight not a place as empty as that one time my hope in humanity’s future was shattered after seeing a 7th grader walk full confidence into oncoming traffic saying “if they hit me I’ll just sue”

Rose 🌹 💕