Does Anyone Wanna Hold Hands Until We Feel A Little Braver

so a few days ago I saw this post, and the accompanying tags from @brrmian :

the idea of Cody being simultaneously so cool on the surface and constantly overanalysing every interaction stuck with me so much that I ended up spitting all my thoughts into existence

so

enjoy a brief look into Commander Cody's mind:

Ok so I had an idea about Ody’s eventual death

Hermes’s smile was tinged with sadness, something unusual for the god. “Hello, old friend.”

“Hello, Hermes.” Odysseus pulled his gaze from his body, wrapped in the funeral shroud lovingly made by Penelope, to the bag in his hands. His fingers clutched it tighter, and he looked up at the messenger god. “Do you think they’ll hate me?”

“They will be angry, but they could never hate their captain.” Hermes took Odysseus’s hand. “It’s time to go.”

Hermes’s hand tightened, so much that Odysseus’s spectral hand would have felt crushed under his godly strength. His feet left the ground, going faster and faster and faster, trailing behind Hermes like the trail of a shooting star. Maybe that’s what he looked like when he delivered souls, Odysseus didn’t know.

His feet touched down on the bank of the river Styx, where over six hundred familiar faces currently waited. Odysseus’s feet hit the ground soundlessly a moment later. This would take some getting used to.

“Goodbye, Odysseus of Ithaca. I’ll… I’ll miss fighting by your side.”

That may have been one of the most genuine things Hermes had ever said. Odysseus smiled and fiddled with his bag. “Hermes? Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, friend, you died,” he said. “Good luck.”

He vanished with a blur of orange light.

Odysseus took a deep breath. It was time.

He walked—slowly, so slowly—towards his old crew. One by one, they turned to face him. Their eyes fell on his bag, and his old, wizened face, proof of a long life. Odysseus wanted to hide it, but he knew he must remain confident in his decisions from all those years ago.

“Comrades.” His eyes fell on two faces he longed to see- one tall, clean-shaven man with dark skin, and one man with a red cloth headband and a mess of curly hair. “Friends. I come after years of keeping you waiting, and for that I beg your forgiveness.” His eyes fell upon Eurylochus. “But I hope that this can sate your desires to leave this place.”

His hands tugged at the string keeping his bag together, and it came undone, almost as if it were waiting for this moment. Six hundred men saw it open, and a murmur went through them. It contained gold—so much gold that they could all get across the river.

Whispers turned to murmurs, but nobody moved forwards to come get a coin. A huge gap remained between Odysseus and the six hundred men he outlived. His shoulders drooped.

One man stepped forwards. Eurylochus of Same, his second in command. He picked out a coin from the bag, then held it up in the air. “Let’s hear it for Odysseus, our captain.”

The murmurs started up again, until the sound of clapping came from the middle of the crowd. Polites.

Ghostly tears flowed down Odysseus’s face as more and more men joined in. They all started to move towards him, cheering for him. Cheering for the life he got to have. Cheering for the chance to finally be together as a crew again.

Thanks for reading! I’d just like to say that my Hermes transportation scene was mostly based on @witless-winion1 ‘s Ctimene fic.

i’m so sorry for the typo. justice for wuthering heights.

if you have a fic, i beg you to please tag me

guys do you think that during first class erik would break into charles bedroom during the night just because he thought of something and felt the urge to tell him and then they would stay up all night chatting and stuff? because i do. i do believe that they did it.

reblog if you've lived so long on the doorstep, you've forgotten how to be inside

"smalltalk" is a doorway. we need doorways. we need not to linger in them forever. small & big-talks and all in between have their place; many rightful complaints regarding the prevalence of smalltalk are really complaints about being trapped in the threshold when we desperately want to let & be let in.

I have like three essays and two personal statements to write for different college applications, and an AP Essay, and an online Precalc assessment. I should not be on tumblr right now, but \_(·_·)_/ It’s my life and no one else is going to make these mistakes for me.

I need to be writing. I need to be getting dressed. I need to get my sister ready for school. I need to eat breakfast. I need to clean my room. I need to fold my clothes.

I am scrolling through tumblr instead.

obi-wan wondered what jango fett could possibly gain by making an army for the enemy.

then he held a dying clone for the first time. so young his armor was still unpainted. and he realized.

this is how you destroy a jedi.

– empaths do not belong in war zones.

Sir Christopher Lee met Rasputin's assassins, saw the last guillotine execution, hunted Nazis, recorded a heavy metal album, spoke 9 languages, was Ian Fleming's cousin (James Bond) & was the only actor in “The Lord of the Rings” to have met J.R.R. Tolkien

shout out dc for naming that one run red hood/arsenal. literally ao3 ship format. they know what they did /j

Star Wars Fix-It Idea

What if Boba is less like… well, like Boba, and instead of going with Aurra Sing, he ends staying on Kamino for a year or two with his brothers. Before he leaves he tells then that he may not like or get along with most of them, but if they ever need info stolen or someone killed (on either side), really if they ever need a bounty hunter for anything, to comm him, and he’ll give them the friends and family discount.

Cut to later in the war, the clones don’t know Palps is a Sith, they just hate him for so, so many reasons. And then Thire, while on a comm with Fox’s batchmates, after finding Fox once more injured, covered in blood, and with no memory of where he’d been or what he’d been doing for the past week, asks how much it would cost to kill the chancellor. They spend a few weeks cashing in favors, scraping together credits (every clone in the GAR gives a few) and then reach out to Boba.

A week later Palps is taken by surprise, sniped through the head, and then disintegrated by a kid in Mandalorian armor.