#epic!odysseus

[a-v-j]

from “Hello??? Premium island goddess cleavage??? 👁️👁️” to “I have tits too.”

im on board w this

[a-v-j]

I just got a question is this blog still alive also how are you doing

hi yes, I just got older

and I see you liked my utmv stuff. I'll have u know im in epic the musical now and I'm in my calypso arc

here have unsolicited doodle and for anyone who enjoys epic :3

[a-v-j]

I woke up to this idea, it was funnier earlier

[tazabel]

Calypso: Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special ♪♪

Calypso: (whispering) You're someone special.

Odysseus: (reliving the  same conversation for the sixth time and ready to give it away on the very same day or just jump from a cliff, either way's fine, really) I'm MARRIED!

[cgoblinqueen]

More of Dead!Odysseus

I'm back from the dead because I need to break my writer's block somehow, so I'm taking a little break from my Sea Horse au and adding some tidbits here since some more ideas have popped up in my head recently so here goes:

Odysseus's senses have been quite dulled since he is a ghost, and has not been alive for quite some time. He had forgotten the sensation of a lot of things, and also struggled to remember a lot of the little things about being alive. After Poseidon is forced to bring Odysseus out and all the other gods come to terms with the mortal soul now living with them on Olympus, he keeps to himself, aloof and detached in a way the other gods are not used to seeing in mortals.

Apollo is quick to attempt to cheer up the miserable little shade that now lived amongst them by strumming up some songs on his Lyre. It helped to bring Odysseus out of his shell somewhat at the beginning, as music was very scarce during his time in the Underworld. Some of the songs that Apollo plays give brief flashes of memories of happier times when he was alive, particularly when he was with Penelope or simply being with his friends around a fire and telling stories during the war. Apollo also took it upon himself to teach Odysseus many new dances to celebrate music even without a voice.

Dionysus had a bit of a harder time trying to break through to Odysseus. He was somewhat disturbed the first few days when everyone got seated for meals when he saw Odysseus seated next to Poseidon staring blankly down at his plate and not attempting to eat or drink anything, thinking that Ody was being a major downer. Athena and Hermes explain to him about Poseidon's curse, and Dionysus is pretty irked at the idea that Odysseus cannot be afforded the luxury of indulging, even in the afterlife. Seeing the lack of desire or appetite in the man's eyes over meals and drinks that could start wars is downright unsettling to the God of Feasts and Wine. With a lack of other human mortals worshipping the gods lately, Dionysus makes it his personal mission to help so that Odysseus can finally let loose and stop bringing sad negative vibes to the room. Together with Athena, Hermes, and Apollo for giving a sort of "diagnosis" of Poseidon's curse, they discover that as long as Odysseus doesn't make a sound, he can open his mouth without blood and seawater gushing out. With that part tackled, the next issue is trying to find food and drink potent enough for a ghost to taste. Dionysus takes out his own reserves of his finest nectars, ambrosias, and wines that are reserved only for his wildest parties, and those alone are flavorful enough for Odysseus to enjoy, and he slowly remembers the sensation of an enjoyable meal or a refreshing drink.

Then there's Hephaestus. He wasn't overly concerned with helping Odysseus out with his own issues at first; he simply came up to the ghost because it had been a long time since any mortals had fought in wars in the name of the gods, and Hepheastus was worried he was getting rusty in terms of making worthy armor. He asked Odysseus to help, given his past experiences of battle, to give feedback to the feel of the armor and how it held up in his spars with Athena. It seemed a simple enough arrangement. Then one day when Hephaestus had to go into the back of his workshop to find a tool, Odysseus had mistakenly put on a breastplate that was fresh out of the forge and would have been scaldingly hot to living mortals. Hephaestus returned to his forge only to find Odysseus sat down on the ground curled up around the armor and pressing his ghostly form as much as it possibly could into the heat radiating through his being, like a cat cuddling into a pile of clothes fresh from a dryer. Odysseus could not feel the warmth of a regular fire as a ghost, and constantly felt cold and numb, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the god's forge was hot enough to cut through the ghostly chill. Hephaestus didn't know what to make of the situation at first, but when Odysseus thanked him for the warmth, the god was touched that someone would show some appreciation towards him outside of the things he built for them. From then on Hephaestus warms up much more (ha) to Odysseus and chats about the latest inventions that the mortal world has cooked up

minor additional detail, I think dead!Odysseus's main method of communication on olympus would be hand signs, because I headcanon that it is a bit of muscle memory from both his stay with his crew on the banks of the styx, and for missions during the war when they needed to stakeout and be quiet.

part 1

part 2

part 4

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Imagine being Odysseus.

You have spent 20 years away from everyone you love, the kingdom you rule, being surrounded by death, destruction, gods, and monsters.

You had to make sacrifice after sacrifice, you watched your best friend get crushed. You watched your second in command betray you, and then sold him down the river with the crew. You had to fight a living whirlpool. You had to fight the god of the f***ing OCEAN, and you somehow won.

And the FIRST THING, you see after getting back to your castle is 108 men singing about killing YOUR SON and Forcing themselves on YOUR WIFE.

Odysseus' crash out was so damn justified. Honestly I just imagine Ares showing up with Popcorn like, "This is what Ive been waiting for."

[sprnklersplashes]

waiting, wishing, hoping, praying (ao3)

companion to this fic

buy me a coffee

One thing about Calypso, she will give him anything he asks of her. It doesn’t feel good, not when it comes with a sly smile and her body far too close to Odysseus’. Not when he knows she will linger in the shadows the whole time, bright eyes drinking in his every move. It makes his skin crawl to know she will be watching him, that this precious moment should have an audience. It feels wrong and twisted to acknowledge her at all, much less let her in on a day such as this. But he has no other choice. Once a year and asks her for candles, yeast, flour and honey she gives them without hesitation.

That first year, she had run her fingers up his bare arm, batted her eyes at him and asked him, “setting the mood for anything in particular?”.

He had pulled his arm away and said flatly “it’s for my son”. 

Her eyes turned cold. She doesn’t like when he mentions Telemachus. Sometimes he thinks she hates him more than she does Penelope.

She left him alone for the rest of the night.

Odysseus is not a baker. Eurycleia teased him for it once, when he tried to bake a cake to surprise Pen. He had begged and begged her to show him how to do it, yet every attempt he made ended in disaster. Burnt on the outside and raw on the inside. One attempt was completely flat, the other fell apart the minute he tried to cut into it. Eventually, he managed to produce something half-decent, and when Penelope had told him she liked it, he couldn’t tell Eurycleia fast enough.

She’d swatted him with a towel and told him if he was going to stroll into her kitchen, he could at least be useful. Then she’d ruffled his hair and looked prouder than she was at his coronation.

“Perhaps I’ll make a baker out of you yet, boy.”

What would she think of him now?

It’s still her recipe, as best as he can remember it anyway. He wonders if she has changed it at all; she was always experimenting when he was a boy. Does she still move her arm in circles when pouring in the milk? Does she still insist that the nuts must be finely chopped before adding them?

Does Telemachus bake with her now, does he sneak little bites and does she swat him with the towel in response?

Is she even still alive? She was old enough when he left. Her bones had creaked as he hugged her goodbye. 

Odysseus shivers, gasping a little as the tears prickle. Almost immediately, Calypso offers him a cloak, but he doesn’t even look at her. He doesn’t want anything from her and in any case, it’s not the type of cold a simple cloak can fix. 

Finally, he finishes it. It’s nothing special; the edges are burned and uneven, the moon-shape came apart in Calypso’s oven. Failure taunts him, pulls at his collar and drags him down toward despair. His son deserves better on his special day; he deserves endless luxuries and mountains of gifts and everyone who has ever loved him crowding around him. Odysseus should be there, parading his boy on his shoulders; he should have spent weeks selecting the perfect gifts and woken him this morning with a special breakfast.

Penelope won’t let him down. Odysseus knows she will their son all the things he deserves.

After all, you only turn 20 once.

With the cake held tight to his chest, Odysseus makes his way to the shore. He can still feel Calypso chasing him, even with her feather-light footsteps. Her disapproval can be felt at any corner of her island but like so many times before, Odysseus chooses himself.

He catches a glimpse of her when he reaches the shore, a faceless figure leaning against the trees. Some small part of him feels grateful, another small part feels pity, and he crushes both of them.  

He looks up at the sky. The night Telemachus was born, he took the sleeping boy out onto the balcony while Penelope rested. Awestruck doesn’t begin to cover how he felt. He held him, a slight weight in his arms, and he suddenly love meant something new. Suddenly, he saw the world through new eyes.

He had looked up at the night sky, marveled at the way the stars twinkled. He took in the half-crescent moon, the formation of the stars, even the faint traces of clouds. Then he kissed his newborn son on the head and pressed him against his shoulder.

“Those are your stars now, Tel,” he whispered. “They’re looking down on your kingdom. It’s all for you, little man.” He traced the star’s formation on his son’s back, his heart so full it could have burst. “And if something is out of your reach, just know I will always be here to get it for you. The wind, the sky, you name it.” Telemachus shifted against his shoulder, a tiny mewl escaping him. His eyes opened as Odysseus adjusted him and he saw his whole world reflected in those dark depths.

If he closes his eyes, he can still feel him against his chest, those small, small breaths and little fingers grabbing at his chiton.  When he opens them, the tears are already flowing. 

His hand is shaking as he lights the candle. It could be from anything; grief, the cold, the phantom weight of Telemachus in his arms. Or it could be age. It’s Telemachus’ birthday, yet his own age weighs just as heavily.

He had always dreamed of carrying Telemachus on his shoulders around Ithaca. If he returned to Ithaca tomorrow, would the weight of his son crush him?

He won’t think about it now. The flames catch on the candle’s wick and glow orange in the blue-black of the night. Odysseus almost smiles as the warmth tickles his hand. He can pretend it’s his wife’s hand against his own. The silver smoke spirals upwards, wavering in the gentle wind. Perhaps the smoke will travel all the way to Ithaca. Perhaps just this once, the gods would let some part of him reach home.

“Happy birthday, my sweet boy,” he whispers. 

He stays there until the candles burn out, until the cake is cold and hard and Calypso has finally disappeared. It is just him and his longing, and the memory of a boy he can’t call his. 

When he finally dozes off by the shoreline, he dreams of a faceless boy calling him home, and a wind that keeps him forever just out of reach.

[wouldtheybeatundertale]

Would Odysseus from EPIC: The Musical beat Undertale Genocide Route?

Yes

No

Voting ended onMay 1, 2025

For more information about the rules, check my pinned post.

Notes: Everything mentioned in the neutral poll. While he probably would not want to hunt down all the monsters to kill them, he would probably still do it to get back to Penelope and Telemachus, seeing what he has done for that goal in the past. I am not sure if he would be able to take on the bosses or not.