#odyssey masterpost

[zarnzarn]

About the Reverse Odyssey AU (love it btw), do you think any of the Ithacans start praying to Hephastus? Just in case they can't get Odysseus back to human form, at least they can ask the God of inventing how to build a new palace that's half underwater.

oh god I have to continue that.... i have 3000 wips that ive gotten inspo for all at once are descending on me guys plus I am actively getting a master's degree bear w me for a few days

also OMG fuck yes!!! Ithaka is much more involved in this than in canon since a. they r not down 600 people who are immensely loyal to odysseus b. their king made a direct sacrifice FOR THEM literally no one else would have done this no other king would ever let himself be cursed to save his kingdom c. it's been 10 years and they all find it unjust because they'd all seen him weep as he left and know he and Penelope missed each other like crazy.

(plus he was very young when he took the throne! imagine a 13 year old telling u what to do and then being right. the people of Ithaka must have been very fond of him and most would have seen him as son-adjacent)

so one person has this idea one day, and they take it to the architects, who take it to the blacksmiths, who take it to the ruler of Ithaka. She pursues her lips as she looks at it, teeth grinding at the assumption that they would succeed but not overcome the curse, but allows them to do it.

So they start.

It is harder than their initial ideas demanded. First there is the matter of structures that do not stay down long enough to stick together, then there is the matter of how to secure them. Their dreams of beautiful underwater sculptures fall through as they struggle to conjure up even a basic shelter, even in the summer calm of the waters.

So, desperate and frustrated, they pray to Hephastus.

Ithaka is famous for its dedication to the goddess Athena, most of its temples under the king's ten-year rule being lovingly dedicated to the wisdom goddess. A separate group of smaller temples honors the other gods in the main town; but the main palace and most houses are painted blue and owl feathers and trinkets and sculptures are sold in the main market- the most beautiful of artistry is reserved for Pallas Athene alone.

But the blacksmiths and architects work together to build a small shrine worthy of the inventor god; with hidden catches and rotating idols and the best of their tools and ideas burnt at the fire kept burning at the base of it.

And after a few weeks- Hephaestus blesses them.

(He cannot make up for what he tried to do to Athena in his drunkenness and on Posiedon's inescapable goading. He was young and stupid and hurt and proud and drugged- he thinks she knows this, and has long since let it pass enough to stand beside him without a second thought; but will never be able to get over his shame- so the least he can do is this.)

But Ithaka's artists wake up with the same idea in mind and rush to the shrine in the early hours of the morning to give their thanks. Then they start building- floating large stones down at the far end to mark the range, until they have raised the wall enough to drain out the waters for them to work inside. They work fast, laying down the walls within days, until it joins to where the courtyard of the main palace creeps down the side of the cliff. From the palace itself, a tunnel is dug in the main room, wrapping around the mountain through the softer rock deposits, then travelling down to the sea.

They have the blueprints Odysseus himself had commissioned for his palace, and try to add in the carvings and structures accordingly. They dare not risk more than the smallest of owls carved into the stone entrance, wary of Posiedon's wrath at his rival. They work hard, encouraged by the people, helped by the Trojan heroes themselves- and strangely, their hands never feel tired and the ideas never stop coming.

The first test comes at the start of the monsoons.

The storms roll in angry and strong, battering against the island of Ithaka as furiously as always. When it is done, the architects are dismayed to find their hard-made palace flooded and destroyed, stone displaced or missing, with one collapse of the outside barrier causing three more within.

Dejected, they burn their tools at the temple forge once more, and then go to bed.

That next morning, the youngest of them wakes up with the thought- what if we used metal to hold them together?

The royal family gives them funding once more, and they commission for marble pillars to be sent from the mainland in exchange for their raw materials; these they sink to the bottom and drain the water once more. These pillars are erected and melted into the shifting sand with hot liquid metal, until they fuse into the rock. The roofed ceiling is replaced with live kelp and seaweed, attached to the top of the pillars and bound together. The walls are rebuilt quicker- with more labour coming in when they look closer to success than before, men with guilty eyes and stubborn determination ready to do the back-breaking, risky work.

The whole island holds its breath this time, as the monsoon rolls in and the ships return. The storms roll in and-

The wall has fallen completely, leaving the surroundings unsuitable for them to put it back up, letting the water back in.

But the building stands.

The celebration lasts all day and night, with all the workers being given a place of honor at the palace table itself for dinner. Even the royal family themselves are happy, for all the disappointment of another year of failure, and are grateful in a way that satisfies them more than the money ever could.

Yet there is still the second test- the tunnel to connect to the palace.

The main digging is complete; but as they reach the end they realize they do not know how they will open it to the sea without losing men to the outburst of the sea pouring back in. The Queen twists her lips when they go to her with the problem, thinking.

"This is such a bad idea," One of the men whispers.

"Shh," Eurylochus says, striking another spear into the final barrier. Two men come forward with hammers and push it in further, and they wait until the call comes in from the surface far above from the diver outside that the spear has gone through. "Don't tempt fate."

"You are such a nice, sane man, Eurylochus," One of the men moans despairingly, and he smiles, small. "Why are our royals all mad?"

He laughs, remembering a similar conversation from many years ago. He slips the rope around the loop at the end of the spear, and feels the nostalgia twist into sorrow once more, missing his captain, his general, his brother, his king, his friend. If only he had never kept that cursed bag. If only he had the courage to step forward first, not frozen in fear and shouldered the cost instead like a soldier should for their king, for Odysseus. Had not made mistake after mistake further, ordering Odysseus out of their reach in his panic to get him to the water, not being prepared with a net to catch him both times they'd seen him after.

He kept one on his belt now, at all times.

But until the skies and seas cleared, there was nothing to do except make sure Ody had a home to return to; that he could reach.

"Let's go," Eurylochus exhales, and they all grab the ropes attached to the dozens of spears and make their way back up the winding tunnel as slowly as they can, careful not to step on even one rope or pull too hard, and risk spelling doom for them all. Hearts pounding as they walk in the eerily silent tunnel, the dark taunting them, urging them to run. But they hold their nerve and come out at the pool created inside the main court.

Eurylochus climbs out last from the pool, and smiles up at Ctimene. She looks beautiful in the Ithakan jewels once more, holding herself with more grace and confidence than much richer princesses ever had, anklets tinkling.

She nods and then turns to the rest. "PULL!"

As one, the ropes spring up tight, straining until the spears come loose and men go falling to the floor with shouts. For a second nothing happens.

Then they hear the roaring.

He knows it's water, Eurylochus knows it has to be water- but it still sounds like a hoard of monsters, the shouting of a battlefield, the cyclops when he stole the lives of their friends in his fury. He can't help grabbing his wife and pulling her back, shouting for a retreat as the water rushes through the tunnel and bursts out in a terrible din into the pool, filling it to the top and then overspilling off the sides immediately.

For a heart-stopping moment, Eurylochus watches the water catch onto the feet of the people around, rising and rising, and he remembers Poseidon's cruel smile as he crippled and cursed Eurylochus' brother and thinks it's going to drown us all-

And then the tide recedes, and the water crawls back with it.

The plan worked. The palace of Ithaka now creeps down into the sea, enticing their wayward king to find his way back home, swim back to them and be happy, even if they never solved his curse.

All they have to do now is wait.

[electricphantasy]

< Masterlist >

Hey everybody, this is my collection of writing if you're looking for a certain post! Feel free to send x reader requests for any kind of robot, android, or artificial intelligence. (◍•ᴗ•◍)

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[zelphin124]

Beyond the Bound Pages: Masterpost

Archive of Our Own Link: Beyond the Bound Pages - Zelphin124 - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, EPIC - Jorge Rivera-Herrans (Albums), The Iliad - Homer, The Odyssey - Homer [Archive of Our Own]

Height Chart: Iliad

Iliad & Odyssey

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 (Coming soon)

[greekmythcomix]

You Are Odysseus (Choose-Your-Own-Path Odyssey IF/Gamebook) Masterpost

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Preview sections! (Boxing Day 2024)

Preview 1:

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OP:

Video: presenting ‘You Are Odysseus’ at the Classical Association Conference 2019

You Are Odysseus - writing an Odyssey Choose-Your-Own-Path book for education and fun

https://youtu.be/K_ztm5HRh3o

Fantasy Odyssey cast:

https://www.tumblr.com/greekmythcomix/725162898352128000/fantasy-odyssey-casting-im-working-on-the

WHAT IF IT WAS ALSO A TV SERIES?!

Sign up to mailing list:

https://ljenkinsonbrown.wordpress.com/you-are-odysseus-signup/

[averydistinctivewhump]

BTHB Masterlist

.

Red: posted

Blue: in progress

.

Sensory Deprivation: sometimes quiet is violent, Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Syx

More Expendable Than You: make me love myself so that I might love you, Dimension 20: A Crown of Candy - Theo

Slammed Into a Wall: do you still believe in one another, Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Nyne

Drugged: you fuck with them, you fuck with me, Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Syx

Hiding an Injury: we wear red so they don't see us bleed, Leverage: Con Artists - Roy

Tortured for Information: no greater innocence than our gentle sin, Dimension 20: A Crown of Candy - Theo, 2/3 chapters

Zip Ties: leave him alone, White Collar - Neal

Broken Ribs: rather go out in a blaze of glory, Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Syx

Voice Breaking: got a baseball bat beside my bed (to fight off what's inside my head), Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Nyne

Choking: breathless, White Collar - Neal

Manhandling: White Collar - Neal, WIP

Shock Collar: if I'm far from home, brother I will hear your call, Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Syx & Barry Nyne

Bound and Gagged: I can't hear you (I don't fear you), Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Syx

Black Eye: blocking the exit, White Collar - Neal

Dissociation: you've been lost but I won't let go, 9-1-1 - Buck

Whipping: do you walk in the valley of kings, Dimension 20: A Crown of Candy - Theo

Knife to the Throat: you can let your arrows sing, Dimension 20: A Crown of Candy - Liam

Forced to Watch: the blood on my hands scares me to death, Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Margaret & Barry Syx

Captivity: Dimension 20: A Starstruck Odyssey - Barry Syx, WIP

[katakaluptastrophy]

Masterpost of TLT metas

This is mostly for my own reference, as tagging doesn't seem to guarantee something being findable on Tumblr...but if you like wildly overthinking lesbian necromancers in space, enjoy!

Overthinking the Fifth House:

What is a "Speaker to the Dead"?

Actually, Magnus Quinn isn't terrible at sword fighting

Imperial complicity: Abigail the First

Pyschopomp: Abigail Pent and Hecate

Did Teacher conspire with Cytherea to kill the Fifth?

What does the Fifth House actually do?

The Fourth and the Fifth can never just be family

Cytherea's political observations at the anniversary dinner

Abigail Pent's affect: ghosts and autism

Were the Fourth wards of the Fifth?

Abigail probably knew most of the scions as children

Magnus Quinn's very understandable anger

Fifth House necromancy is not neat and tidy

Are Abigail and Magnus an exception to the exploitative nature of cavaliership?

"Abigail Pent literally brought her husband and look where that got her" (the Fifth in TUG)

The Fifth's relationship dynamic

The Fifth's relationship is unconventional in a number of ways

The queer-coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship

Abigail and Palamedes, and knowing in the River

Was Isaac the ward of the Fifth?

Did Magnus manage to draw his sword before Cytherea killed him? (and why he probably had to watch his wife die)

How did Abigail know she was murdered by a Lyctor?

Fifth House necromancy is straight out of the Odyssey

The politics of the anniversary dinner

Was Magnus born outside of the Dominicus system?

Overthinking John Gaius:

The one time John was happy was playing Jesus

Is Alecto's body made from John's?

Are there atheists in the Nine Houses?

Why isn't John's daughter a necromancer?

The horrors of love go both ways: why John could have asked Alecto 'what have you done to me?'

Why M- may have really hoped John was on drugs

What is it with guys called Jo(h)n and getting disintegrated? (John and Dr Manhattan)

John's conference call with his CIA handlers

Watching your friend turn into an eldritch horror

Why does G1deon look so weird? (Jod regrew him from an arm)

When is a friendship bracelet not a friendship bracelet?

Why did John have G1deon hunt Harrow? (with bonus update)

The 'indelible' sin of Lyctorhood and John's shoddy plagiarism of Catholicism

Are John Gaius and Abigail Pent so different?

What was Jod's plan at Canaan House?

John and Ianthe tread the Eightfold path

The Mithraeum is more than a joke about cows

When was John Gaius born? (And another)

John Gaius and the tragic Orestes

John and Jesus writing sins in the sand

John and Nona's echoing chapters

John's motivations

Overthinking the Nine Houses:

'No retainers, no attendants, no domestics'

Funerary customs and the violence of John's silence

Juno Zeta and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time

The horror of the River bubble

Every instance of 'is this how it happens' in HTN

Feudalism is still shitty even if you make it queer and sex positive

How do stele work?

Thought crime in the Nine Houses

The Houses have a population the size of Canada

What must it be like to fight the Houses?

You know what can't have been fun? Merv wing's megatruck on Varun day...

Augustine's very Catholic hobby (decorating skeletons)

Necromancers are not thin in a conventionally attractive way

Matching the Houses with the planets of the solar system

Why don't the Nine Houses have (consistent) vaccination or varifocals?

How would the Houses react to the deaths at Canaan House?

How does Wake understand her own name (languages over 10,000 years)

What pre-resurrection texts are known in the Houses?

Camilla and Palamedes very Platonic relationship

The horrors the Cohort found at Canaan House

Do the Houses understand the tech keeping them alive?

Overthinking House religion:

What do the Houses believe about death?

Was M's nun a Franciscan?

Cavaliership and arbitrary socio-religious structures

Ritual scarification

Sacraments and sacramentals

What did Silas think god wanted at Canaan House?

In defense of Silas

There's no such thing as a 'good' necro/cav relationship

Veiling and shaving in Ninth House cult practice

Tongue-in-cheek thoughts on Eighth and Sixth religion

A very long deep-dive on House belief and practice

Overthinking Harrowhark Nonagesimus:

'The meat of your meat...belonged to god' and 'that is how meat loves meat'

The horror of parental touch: Harrow, John Gaius, and Abigail Pent

Why is Harrow so obsessed with Abigail's hands?

Frontline Titties of the Fifth and transgressive necro/cav relationships

Harrow, Wake, and permeability of the soul in HTN

Bible studies for weird queer necromancers:

Epiphany: revealing god's child to the wider world

The Holy Innocents and the creche massacre

The Virgin Mary and Commander Wake

John Gaius and John the Baptist

Instantiating the Trinity and the Second Resurrection

What's the significance of Paul?

St Paul's theology of gender and sexuality and the House theology of cavaliership

Maundy Thursday: consuming another for eternal life

Harrow and the Harrowing of Hell

[simmerianne93]

[Simmerianne93]Portrait_poses_07

Hello everyone!!! How are you today???

Have you missed me??

I took a small break after the beautiful Valentine's collab i did with my dear friends and mates Herecirm and Simmireen (which btw if you haven't seen yet, tho I doubt it, you can find a masterpost here) but i'm back with more poses for you all.

I can't end the month of love without publishing this little pack of wedding poses that I really wanted to bring for you all.

A couple of weeks ago I saw some references in pinterest (my dear friend to have ideas) and i was like "I need them in my life", so... here you have some funny wedding portrait poses for your sims' family portraits.

Although the process has been a little odyssey, because I tried to convert the bouquets from "my wedding stories" gamepack and I failed multiple times trying to fix them (unfortunatelly there is no way for them to work good ingame xD).... I looked everywhere, and I finally found a bouquet (with the stigmata bone assign that was what i wanted) that can be used for these cute poses i'm bringing and for some other slightly more dynamic poses that i'll bring in the future (I still have a couple of references that I loved and would like to recreate them because they are fun and not the typical poses of looking statically at the camera).

Anyway, I'll leave you with the descriptions of this beautiful wedding pack, celebrating love until the end of the month:

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What is on it?

6 couple poses (made with a female rig and a modified male rig) + 3 all in one.

--- What do you need?

Andrew poses player

Teleport any sim by Scumbumbo or Mccc by deaderpool.

Pocci's wedding bouquet 

Instructions in the original post.

PS: tomorrow I'll be publishing my "coming soon" post, so keep an eye to take a closer look to all the packs that are coming next month.

——

TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

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Download it now here — [Early access until March 21 st, 2024]

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If you want to support me:  Patreon | Ko-fi

All my poses overview: Pinterest |  Wix | Tumblr

More in-game preview pics of all my poses: Instagram

My socials: Twitter |BlueSky

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I really hope you like them and I will say in advance: Thank you so much for use them.

@ts4-poses

[dootznbootz]

(Thank you for the shout-out, Smitty! :3 )

OP, while I do disagree on your points, I will absolutely applaud you on all the hard work and dedication you've put into your thought process and essay. I KNOW how long it takes and how scary it is to possibly post something that could possibly be so controversial. Especially on tumblr. That takes a lot of guts <3 The Aeaea essay that @prompted-wordsmith put up was something I literally worked on for a month and was in my drafts for another month afterward as I was so scared to post.

With that outta the way, there's nothing I can really say that hasn't really been said already other than yes, please read multiple translations <3 Even if you had not read Wilson's, who is very biased, I would recommend everyone read at least 2-3 different translations because there will ALWAYS be bias and it is always good to see multiple reads.

Or even if the text doesn't give the clearest example and you misunderstood, it's nice to have another translation to go in order to try and get the full picture :)

Another essay (much shorter though, like only 5 mins tops lol) I have is also about how Odysseus and Helen are similar in their narratives, and I think it's actually pretty intentional by Homer that they went through similar events.

Odysseus and Calypso Were Lovers

As problematic as that sounds because WTF, hear me out because it's complicated and there's a lot to discuss. Trigger warning for sa. Also, not directly Epic: The Musical related; that's a whole other ballpark.

She trapped him on her island!

I'm not denying that nor am I denying how objectively messed up that is.

However, the captor and prisoner trope is one that does crop up in Greek mythology now and then.  The most famous example I can think of is Hades’ kidnapping of Persephone.  I have seen that situation blatantly called rape in the original story, and yet today, modern storytellers do like to revise that myth into a version that makes Demeter out to be an overbearing mother and Persephone's ‘kidnapping’ so to speak becomes an escape.  Personally, I think that is a very graceful way to make a barbaric story a bit more palatable to modern audiences.

So regarding Odysseus’ situation where falling in love with his captor is problematic…my thought process runs as, “Fucking Greek mythology and its weird idea of what constitutes as a love story.”

As a result, I have no serious thoughts on the morality of certain figures of Greek mythology because they frankly come from a time period where the people had a very different culture and set of moral values and ideas on what was acceptable. Therefore, it's futile to judge their stories by my own modern moral compass.

Where in The Odyssey does it say they were lovers?

The main line I can't ignore that strongly implies the nature of their relationship is Odysseus' farewell to Calypso:

“The sun went down and brought the darkness on. They  [Odysseus and Calypso] went inside the hollow cave and took the pleasure of their love, held close together.”  - The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Emily Wilson.

Keep in mind, she’s already told him he’s free to go.  He’s free to build his raft, she’s giving him supplies, and yet he says goodbye this tenderly.  Note the absence of Calypso using magic to compel him. If you cherry-picked this line, you'd find a fond goodbye.

Odysseus’ Tears

A lot of people making the ‘Odysseus/Calypso was a non-consensual situation’ argument like to cite the line that Odysseus cried every day on Ogygia.  And yes, he did weep every day he was there.  But this is the full stanza.

“On the tenth black night, the gods carried me till I reached the island of Ogygia, home of the beautiful and mighty goddess Calypso.  Lovingly she cared for me, vowing to set me free from death and time forever.  But she never swayed my heart.  I stayed for seven years; she gave me clothes like those of gods, but they were always wet with tears.” - The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Emily Wilson.

‘Beautiful and mighty….Lovingly she cared for me….she never swayed my heart.’  He speaks highly of her, not with hate or venom for her delaying him.

In my literature class where we read The Odyssey, the tears line was discussed and largely interpreted as Odysseus’ reaction to all the monsters he’d faced and losing all his crew and friends.  The PTSD of a war veteran.  From the cultural mindset of Ancient Greece, Odysseus was a king, and he failed his people when they all died under his command and he was unable to bring them home.  Similarly, the hero Theseus was once king of Athens.  He was usurped in absentia (Theseus being trapped in the Underworld at the time) and when he returned to his kingdom, he found another man on his throne, was forced to flee, and died a rather ignoble death when a supporter of his usurper shoved him off a cliff.  So Odysseus being a king who let an entire fleet die under his watch is certainly grounds for shame to the point of tears in the eyes of the Ancient Greeks.  And with an entire line-up of men attempting to court his wife and take his place, it drives home the idea that he was replaceable.

Also important to note:  He’s still miserable when he leaves Ogygia.  When he arrives at King Alcinous’ court, he is welcomed, provided food, shelter, and entertainment, but when the king checks in with his heartbroken guest, he pleads with him to tell him what’s wrong, which kickstarts the telling of Odysseus’ journey.

Odysseus was afraid of Calypso!

That said, it's also important to address this concept because this is Odysseus' reaction to the goddess telling him she is sending him on his way to Ithaka:

‘Goddess, your purpose cannot be as you say; you cannot intend to speed me home. You tell me to make myself a raft to cross the great gulf of ocean--a gulf so baffling and so perilous that not even rapid ships will traverse it, steady though they may be and favoured by a fair wind from Zeus. I will not set foot on such a raft unless I am sure of your good will--unless, goddess, you take on yourself to swear a solemn oath not to plot against me any new mischief to my ruin.’ The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Shewring.

His suspicion certainly suggests mistrust and fear that she intends to do him harm, and considering his track record of being hated by deities, that's understandable. This isn't exactly what you'd call a loving relationship. But this also brings up a weird contradiction in the poem. I would 100% say this was a completely non-consensual situation were it not for this line:

His eyes were always tearful; he wept sweet life away, in longing to go back home, since she [Calypso] no longer pleased him. - Wilson.

Not ‘she did not please him.’  She no longer pleased him.  That implies she 'pleased' him at one point and because of that, one could argue Calypso was a mistress and Odysseus eventually tired of her. (Probably long before seven years had passed.)

What Do The Translators Say?

I can't speak for all translators, but in the Emily Wilson translation, she includes a lengthy introduction describing Odysseus' world, the culture of Ancient Greece, the reasoning behind specific English wordage in the translation, etc. In the introduction, she refers to Calypso and Circe as Odysseus' affairs. Not his abusers. He also has a brief flirtation with Princess Nausicaa, the daughter of his final host, King Alcinous. Wilson then goes on to describe how these affairs are not a character failing of Odysseus in comparison to the treatment of Penelope where she is expected to be faithful and how that is indicative of a good woman.

Taking a step back from Greek mythology, consider the actions of King Henry VIII of England. Most historians agree that, for the first few years, the king's relationship with his first wife Katherine of Aragon was unusually good for the times. And yet he was an unfaithful husband, had at least one acknowledged bastard and historians speculate there were more. But while 'indiscretions' such as this were frowned upon in the Tudor Period, Henry VIII did not receive near as much criticism as Queen Katherine would have if she'd had an illegitimate child. If Katherine was 'indiscreet,' that was considered treason because she compromised the legitimacy of the succession and that was cause for a beheading.

Because misogyny. Again, different time, different moral values.

Misogyny in The Odyssey

Whatever one's thoughts on Calypso are, it is incredibly misogynistic of Homer to solely blame her for keeping Odysseus trapped while he conveniently ignores the plot hole that her island is completely surrounded by ocean and we all know that Poseidon was lurking out there just waiting for his shot at vengeance.  Odysseus is barely two stanzas off Calypso’s island before Poseidon goes after him.  It’s almost hilarious how quickly it happens.  The poem says Poseidon was returning from Ethiopia, not that he was there for the whole seven years, and Hermes clearly did not pass along the memo that Odysseus was free to return to Ithaka.  Although I like to imagine it was Zeus who forgot about Poseidon’s grudge against Odysseus, and Hermes, being the mischievous scamp that he is, did not remind him.

If one line in the text says Odysseus/Calypso was consensual while another says otherwise, which is it?

Honestly, I don't think there's a conclusive answer with just The Odyssey. I'm a hobbyist, not an expert, so I do refer to the judgment of translators like Wilson to make that call. If she and other translators say Calypso and Circe were affair partners and I can see the lines in the text to support that, I'll believe it and chalk up the rest as Greek mythology being problematic.

That said, we can also look at the opinions of other Greek poets in their further writings of the mythology:

“And the bright goddess Calypso was joined to Odysseus in sweet love, and bare him Nausithous and Nausinous.” - The Theogony; Of Goddesses and Men, Hesiod, translated by Evelyn-White.

“… after brief pleasure in wedlock with the daughter of Atlas [Calypso], he [Odysseus] dares to set foot in his offhand vessel that never knew a dockyard and to steer, poor wretch…” - Alexandra, Lycophron, translated by Mair.

Both seem to be of the opinion Calypso was Odysseus' lover.

Interestingly, Hesiod also writes in The Catalogues of Women Fragment:

“…of patient-souled Odysseus whom in aftertime Calypso the queenly nymph detained for Poseidon.” - The Catalogues of Women Fragment, Hesiod, translated by Evelyn-White.

The wording ‘detained for Poseidon’ implies Calypso was acting at Poseidon’s command or she was doing the sea god a favor or she possibly didn't have any free will herself whether or not Odysseus stayed on Ogygia. Either way, it does neatly account for Homer's aforementioned misogyny/plot hole.

But if Hesiod and Lycophron's works are not part of The Odyssey, why should we take them seriously?

You don't have to consider them canon. Just because I prefer to consider all mythology canon doesn't mean anyone else does. Just as easily, I could ask why we should take Homer's work seriously even though historians can't even agree whether or not he was a real person.

The truth is, Ancient Greece as we think of it lasted a thousand years.  Their culture/values changed several times and so did their stories to reflect those changes, and those stories continue to evolve to the modern day. Odysseus himself goes through a few different descriptions over the centuries, being described as scheming and even cruel in other works. So I consider modern works like Percy Jackson, Epic: The Musical, Son of Zeus, and so on to be just more cogs in the evolving narrative. Much like how retellings of Hades and Persephone are shifting to circumstances easier to accept by audiences today.

But why would Odysseus be unfaithful to his loving wife?

The loving wife he claimed as payment for helping out King Tyndareus? Yeah...Odysseus and Penelope's relationship may not quite be the undoubted loving one modern retellings make it out to be nor is Odysseus a saint in The Odyssey.

“A blast of wind pushed me [Odysseus] off course towards the Cicones in Ismarus.  I sacked the town and killed the men.  We took their wives and shared their riches equally amongst us.”  - The Odyssey, Homer, translated by Emily Wilson.

Raiding a town unprovoked, killing the men, kidnapping the women, stealing their treasure is not indicative to what we in the modern day consider heroic or good protagonist behavior. Also, at the end of the Trojan War, Queen Hekuba was made a slave and given to Odysseus.

As for the chapter with Circe, Penelope's name isn't even mentioned. Moreover, the wording of the Wilson translation gives the troubling connotation that Circe may have been the one who was assaulted.

Hermes’ instructions to Odysseus are as follows:

"...draw your sharpened sword and rush at her as if you mean to kill her. She will be frightened of you, and will tell you to sleep with her." - Wilson

She'll be frightened of him? Hermes is encouraging Odysseus to render Circe powerless by eating the Moly plant so she can't turn him into a pig, then threaten her with a sword, which does frighten her, and then sleep with her. That line of events is disturbing. Circe is the one who offers to take Odysseus to bed, sure, but there’s a strange man in her house, she’s allegedly afraid according to Hermes, and she’s unable to resort to her usual defense and turn him into a pig as she did with the others.  Under those circumstances, sleeping with an invader is a survival tactic.

However...after Odysseus makes Circe promise to turn his men back, she bathes him and gives him food like a proper Ancient Greek host. Yet before Odysseus accepts the meal, he puts his men first, saying he can't bear to eat until he knows they're well. So Circe turns them back, then Odysseus returns to where the rest of the crew are waiting on the shore. They're all convinced their comrades are dead until Odysseus tells them what transpired and they rejoice. All except suspicious Eurylochus who calls them fools for trusting Odysseus' word based on his previous bad decisions. Odysseus thinks about cutting his head off for speaking that way. Damn, that went from zero to a hundred fast.

But Penelope's name is missing from the story.

Odysseus only thinks of leaving Circe's island when his men speak of returning to their homeland, after which he goes to Circe about the matter, and she instructs him to go to the Underworld.

"That broke my heart, and sitting on the bed I wept, and lost all will to live and see the shining sun." - Wilson

Odysseus and his men all lament the idea of sailing into the land of the dead. So his tears and despair did not start with Calypso. Also, they return to Circe's island after the journey so she can help them make sense of Tiresias' instructions.

But setting all that aside, even when Hermes instructed him on what to do, Odysseus didn't make some grand speech on how he can’t betray his wife.  He doesn’t specifically say he’s crying for Penelope on Calypso’s island.  He doesn’t mention Penelope at all, and when King Alcinous asks him about his sorrow, Odysseus tells his whole story, barely bringing up his wife or his love for her.

So is Odysseus a good guy?

In all, Odysseus is a clever character who is known for using his wits to get out of any situation.  Polyphemus, the Sirens, Scylla, he had a plan.  The idea that he’s suddenly helpless against Calypso and Circe is out of character.  They may be goddesses, but they’re not exactly the heavy hitters of the pantheon, which is why Poseidon could absolutely order a minor sea nymph to stop what she’s doing and hold a man prisoner for him. And while Odysseus spends the entire story being thwarted by the gods, one could say he also thwarts the gods right back by refusing to give up.

Like most Greek heroes, I would say Odysseus is not what we today would call a hero. But when he shares a roster with characters like this:

Zeus:  Serial rapist

Poseidon:  Serial rapist

Hades:  Kidnapped Persephone (setting aside modern interpretations she went with him willingly)

Herakles:  Raped a princess named Auge  (Yes, really.)

Theseus:  Kidnapped Helen of Sparta when she was a child because he wanted to marry a daughter of Zeus, aided and abetted his cousin in an attempt to kidnap Persephone, abandoned Ariadne, etc.

Jason the Argonaut:  Tried to abandon his wife. (I say ‘try’ because he didn’t get the chance. His wife Medea killed the other woman first.)

Hephaistos:  Raped Athena after she refused him.

Achilles:  Murdered a child to prevent a prophecy from coming true.

...Odysseus's atrocities are weirdly tame by comparison. Even the narrative where he kills the infant Prince Astyanax, modern retellings usually give that role to the lesser known Neoptolemus. More on that here.

In the end, it's not necessarily thematically important whether or not Odysseus is good or bad. The core of his character revolves around his cleverness and ability to build and strategize and make his own way in the world he lives in. Rounding this out is Emily Wilson's commentary on the symbolism behind the tree bed,

"In leaving Calypso, Odysseus chooses something that he built with his own mind and hands, rather than something given to him. Whereas Calypso longs to hide, clothe, feed, and possess him, Athena enables Odysseus to construct his own schemes out of the materials she provides." - The Odyssey, Homer, trans. by Emily Wilson, Introduction Pg 64.

So were Odysseus and Calypso lovers?

Based on the above, my opinion is 'Yes they were, but with the caveat they were problematic af.' Because problematic themes like that are pretty par for the course in Greek mythology.

[drarryspecificrecs]

HP Bodice Ripper Fest 2023 : Masterlist of DRARRY fics

@hp-bodiceripper || official masterpost || AO3 || ∑ = 16 works The Mods : @ghaniblue & @getawayfox

---

1. Cool About It by @oflights [M, 16k]

Harry is so excited for his first date with Draco. But what follows isn't so much a date as it is an all-night odyssey including a malevolent lift, a Gringotts heist, a Sleeping Curse, a trip to the kebab shop, a lack of dancing, a Muggle drug, a rooftop pool party, a black eye and, eventually, a sunrise over a Quidditch stadium.

2. Nature pricks them on to ramp and rage by @goblinmatriarch [E, 21k]

Lord Draco Malfoy may be a young man spending time in Dumbledore’s summer court, but that does not mean he needs to succumb to its licentious frivolity. He carries the burden of his lineage, the shadow of rumours, and the dignity of his betrothal to a good match. He is certainly not fool enough to be distracted by the dark curls and ready grin of the court’s stableboy, who seems to have taken up with every courtier who looks his way.

3. The Real Thing by @skeptiquewrites [M, 5k]

Harry only means to cheer Draco up after a terrible breakup. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

4. Yesterday by suhtmuikkis [T, 9k]

Harry doesn’t intentionally kidnap Draco Malfoy. Really it’s debatable if you can even call it kidnapping but the git surely seems to think so.

—

✔ other fests in 2023 ✔ fests in other years ✔ HP Bodice Ripper Fest : 2022

[astralnymphh]

𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

summary: swept under your fossil gray wool blanket, a body deprived of slumber and living the effects of back-bending chores all around the farmhouse has you fatigued and yearning to supply the last ounce of energy with a bit of literature. eventually, ellie will set that book on rain check, and your fatigue, ..and her boredom. honestly, she'll definitely be the one to steal your energy instead of the book.  reader discretion advised: nsfw, mdni, usual playful bickering, one second of cuddiling, poetic ahh writing, very mild foreplay, hella dirty talk, lotsa swearing, oral (receiving) spitting, clit stim (receiving), petnames (babe, baby, good girl) footnotes: word count (2k), masterlist, palestine masterpost, read this, written circa 2023. (hence the writing style change)

radiance incarnate is what lies behind the glass pane just ahead of your bed-post. lunar light outstanding the dark night, never lacking a few stars that flecked the sky above the nocturnal forest, at least what you could perceive through a regular sized window. fusing with the comfortability of your mattress and cloaked in a warm wool blanket makes for a nice end-of-the-day reward while you immerse yourself in the realm of 'the odyssey'. ellie's not in bed. not in the room. she's presumably downstairs finishing up something, so not a clue of her coming is on your mind.

you wriggle around the soft bed altering your position to have one leg bent and the other draped over, the book upheld by the bulk of your thigh making it easier to flip through. page by page, word by word, space and time diminishes around you and is replaced by this entrancing world of mycenaean greece portraying the aegean sea. the room was dimly lit and still, minus the muted sounds of an owl and crickets chirping beyond the wooden walls. serenity lasts for a good half hour before an upsurge of hard rubber footsteps wake the floor by the bedroom door to the right of you.

"hey babe- ooh, what'cha reading?" ellie's voice grapples your focus to her profile, attired in her white shirt, grubby denim and converse that look like they've been dragged to hell.

"the odyssey." you respond as she begins to lurk closer, arms crossed.

she swipes her tongue across her lips, saying, "y'know.. savage starlight might be more.. fun to read?" in an obviously sarcastic note, creasing her brows together accompanying a brass smirk.

"to you, maybe. I actually enjoy this a lot." you cave the book over your chest, sitting like a roof, "you just don't have a mature taste."

"whadda'ya mean? comics are for everyone, and actually easy to understand." she clambers atop of your hips, descending her face upon you, "unlike the odyssey."

"pshh, the odyssey is a classic." you highlight.

"you're just mad that im right." 

you pucker a pout, slowly lifting the book between your noses till ellie knocks it down plumb on your collarbone.

"ah-uh," she intently strikes spires into your eyes with her persuasive peer, narrowing those lids in an undeniably tantalizing way, "can't ignore this now."

"you're right." you spat out and divided the space with your book again.

"c'mon.." she prys the book from your limp grasp, leaving it astray to the bed adjacent to you, "I'm here now, aren't I?" a humbly intimate whisper croaks from her toothy grin.

you banish your sight to the headboard above, pondering the words that would wisp from your lips, "I have a few pages left, babe, then we'll do whatever.."

"mmk, 'gonna lay on you though." she giggles and shuffles along the length of you, interlacing your limbs together and smushing her cheek on your stomach. her arms swathe your hips and tuck underneath your butt.

the book diverged from your fingertips finds its way back, cuddled between your thumbs and eclipses ellie's head from your vision. your pupils root back to the muster of sentences lining the page, with a certain breath gusting onto your mildly exposed midriff.

a scant minute survives before a husk is heard, "mmph- so warm.." the tip of her nose drags on your skin as she faces downward, marking an indulgent smooch to your abdomen. 

that brought a melliferous smile to draw out, instilled with admiration from her speckled kisses. it anchors your attention unwillingly when these kisses continue but you'd rather void it and tread on with reading as ellie treads on with a rampancy of taunting kisses. normally, this'd be blasé, but tonight, it's turning your tides.

ellie muffles, "wann' kiss every inch.." her nibbles subside in target of your navel, nuzzling on the pouch of your belly and biting your shorts' band, "fuck.."

"els."

"mhm?"

"what're up to?" the book slants down.

"you."

"elsies.." 

"just showin' my love.." her tone airs up and turns raspy. 

"I think it's more than that." you dig at her transparent peak in sensuality and prod her foot with yours.

ellie can't necessarily disprove this, she was blatantly horny but wanted to keep that 'under the covers' till you shared the feeling outwardly. a shameless smirk paints her mouth regardless, "y'know what I really wanna do?"

"what?"

a gnaw at her lower lip fracts the answer briefly, uttering, "I wanna eat your fucking pussy." and blunt she was, verdant eyes fastened to yours. she's so eager for you, clawing at your loins.

a shudder bolts the extent of your nerves and you clench around nothing but a throb at the contents of her question, visibly ruffled up by it, "babe.." 

"can I?"

nary a gloom of doubt inhabits your mind, the way she's laying on your body, patient to taste you revs you up like a torrent of arousal. oh my fucking goddess. it's making you go wild.

"yes.." 

"shit- m'kay, lemme just.." ellie wrinkles up the sheet in her fist, tossing it overhead till her head was obscured by it. the amber hue of her hair is subtle under the thin pearly sheet as she slithers down between the interstice of your thighs.

maybe the now carnal environment made it inconvenient to carry on with the perusal of your book, but you're elevating it back up from your sternum regardless. the vivid thought of her eating you out while you read is a bit elating, is it not?

ellie's cunning lips park at the epitome of your core, locking her biceps under your slack legs and dangling her still shoe-clad feet off the beds' brink.

"can't wait to see that beautiful fucking pussy.." her veiled voice has strings of raw ardor plucking in her throttle rippling onto your clothed entrance with a muggy pant on every word.

an unheard gulp passes through to the trench of your chest, sending out a reflex of sweet sensations to your pelvis, whimpering, "mhh- ellie.."

"shhhshhh.. i got'chu.." 

she begins to pleat your panties over themselves and slip them off your legs, whizzing them away to some lifeless nook of the tucked-in sheets.

"fuck.. shit-" ellie heaves in awe, even day after day of seeing you bare, it's so titillating to her, drool is abandoning her lips.

the paragraphs living on the pages merge into an unintelligible blob as your vision drowses and the only sensation you can detect is her breath lathering your exposed slit. an open 'ptui' is heard prior to a wet glob landing on your clit and evoking a jolt from your body.

"so sensitive.." she pokes fun at your reaction, slapping her digits down on your sappy pussy and rubbing the spit through your folds, which to much avail, juts your body again.

"fck!" you hack out a swear at each writhe and prod.

"yeah, like that?" 

the grip on your book tightens, causing it to tremor in your shaky hold.

"gonna taste so fuckin' good, mmh.." she murmurs to herself but you catch the gist since immediately after her lips envelop your clit and enlist deft torpedo laps to it.

a heap of pleasurous pricks throb in your cunt and garner a gentle mewl from your chords, whining, "gh- mhhhn.." tenderly in growing bliss.

ellie laps your clit in brisk flicks while sucking it up with noises similar to kissing resounding through the sheer fabric cascading over her head.

you observe the cover moving with every mild thrust of her head, creasing and shuffling with the halo of her hair. a hand prowls from the sheets' hem and searches for anywhere to rest, to which you beckon it to your breast.

she realizes this and gives it duo squeezes for good measure and her unemployed fingers knead the squishy flesh of your ass, all while smirking.

"mmhh~ I wanna see you.." you mumble into the whafted-shut book, knocking off the already sliding sheet with your knee to reveal a flushed ellie with her nose buried in your crotch, her pretty face poised between your thighs, stuffed in your cunt.

her irises hark this newfound horizon before her and diffuse an intense glare that shudders your soul, sinking her lips deeper into those parted folds and drinking up your sticky deluge.

her mouth disconnects with threads of saliva and slick following, "this pussy tastes s'fucking divine, you know that right?"

"y-yeah.."

"could go down n'you for breakfast, lunch n' dinner.. fuck- baby.." 

ellie retreats her keen tongue, dipping into your entrance and soaking up the lewd coating of your walls. oral sounds of her mouth practically having a make-out sesh with your puffy lips overflow the room and bounce like an echo betwixt your ears.

"ohh my godd.." your moans enhance and amplify in the sea of ebbing relief and flowing pleasure.

her pecan speckled skin tinted with rose is glazed with a sinful slick from how far she pushed her face in, a terribly arousing sight to behold when she withdraws to praise her own work.

"how's m'pretty girl doing?"

"s-so.. closee.."

"want' you to moan my name when you do, yeah?"

"o-okay.."

"I wanna know how fuckin' good I make you feel." her sharp curses stay unyielding in her expression.

"mh-mhghmm.." your throat clogs up in anticipation.

ellie pours over your bare stature one last time before gripping the back of your knees and pushing them up till your feet meet the sky.

"that's better."

her lips smash into your cunt once again and prove to be frothing with a craving for you, clenched brows and grunting into your groin intently. she explores every attainable inch like she knows it, licking up your pre-cum like it's the last fucking meal on earth.

"oh- fuck!" you wail out, webbing your fingers in her frizzed up locks by habit.

her inhuman speeds catch you out of the blue, binding her tastebuds with your natural taste and delighted in every millisecond of it. she hoists onto her knees and hovers over your bottom half, wriggling her tongue over your entire opening and sending that abused clit into overdrive.

"el-ell.. ellie! i can't fucki- ah!" a high squeak blazes from your gullet.

she blurts out, "cum on m'fuckin' face." submerged in your folds.

"els.. mh!"

it's the end for you when she starts purposefully moaning on your bud, finally ushering your climax to dull your senses and numbfuck your consciousness. your reality is painted with a globe of starlight just by the heavenly feeling of it.

"good girl..-fck, there there..." ellies gingerly tone conflicts with her devilish play, drinking up the breach of cum gushing from your orgasm.

"oof.. jeez.." you recline your legs once her hands flee, huffing your way down from the celestial heavens.

ellie clambers up and collapses next to you, a smug and prideful visage staring back at your profile. 

"did ya finish those pages?"

"erm, no." 

she butts off a laugh, "eh, well.." her palm advances your bangs, hooking them behind the conch of your ear, "ended up having more fun, yeah?'

"i- yeah.. I guess.."

"you guess?"

"coulda been a lot better."

"whaaaat?" she mimicked an offended countenance.

"like it's nothing to write home about-"

"u're just trynna rile me up!"

"what if I am?" you boldy tease, tutting your skull side-to-side.

and that's ellie's one weakness, teasing. her brows hike, hollering "ohhh- I see how it is!" and rolls on top of you and thrusts her pelvis down with clear intention, "c'mere-"

"fhmm--" her willowy finger seals your lips, heeding the provocation you've cast into her mind.

"you're on."

[orangez3st]

The Sweetness of Slumber

Entry to @clonexocweek - 02.13.25: Intimacy | Event Masterpost

Can be read as a stand-alone | Read Dream Currents: [Tumblr] [AO3]

For you: What If... Greek Myth AU

Summary: What happened during the 501st Umbaran campaign still haunts Rex even in his sleep. Waking up in the middle of a night, the nightmares chasing and biting at his ankles, the ocean deity Sho'cye provides all the comfort he needs. Tags & Warnings: hurt/comfort, post umbara, umbara angst, established friendship, childhood friends, romantic friendship, eepy rex, eepy sho'cye, platonic cuddles, oneshot au, separate from the bigger sho’cye-verse, references to dream currents (no spoilers) Pairing: Rex × Sho'cye (OFC Force Goddess) Word Count: 4.8k A/N: I'm so excited to include this one in the event! This has been going and up for a complete read in the links provided above if you're interested. Title is a part of one of the lines in Homer's Odyssey Book 23 when the hero had finally reunited with his wife Penelope.

𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒎 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒔

— All I Had Was You - Paul Moody, The Field Tapes, Kyle McEvoy [X]

Shot awake, Rex's breaths break out of his chest in harsh and broken rhythm. Drowsiness bleeds away – in its place now, consciousness that's slunk in. And dread. His heart is pounding inside his chest and out his ears, drops of sweat breaking in and sliding down from his hairline as glimpses of nightmarish images glaze over his eyes once more.

No. He shakes his head. The darkness of his HQ barrack quarters, save for the low-power blue light on his work desk bathing the entire room, isn't helping. He always prefers to sleep in the dark, but after Umbara, the dimness of his room does nothing but stoke the anxiousness within him. The horror of being aware that so many of his men died…

The heels of his hands dig into his eyes, desperate for the glimpses to vanish. He grunts.

Let's give it a few minutes.

He closes his eyes and settles into breathing exercise, his shoulders heaving with controlled, rhythmic inhales and exhales.

Coruscant and its artificial sea. Not even natural. Even the rain’s made up.

It's during times like this, where his nightmares of past campaigns awaken him in the middle of the night, he yearns for Sho'cye. The ocean goddess who was ever present in their night rests when they were merely cadets back in Kamino, one of the planets where she's most powerful. The one who watched over their rest, and by extension, their dreams. She would grant them peaceful sleep, banishing their nightmares away along with the fear that follows.

Now away from her water dominion, he's never felt this much longing. 

He lets out a big, sad sigh.

If only she'd be here.

Now that his once thundering heartbeat has settled to normal, he allows his eyes to open.

Only to see a long-haired figure sitting on the side of his bed.

An embarrassing noise escapes his lips as he jumps back in shock, only reviving the uncomfortably fast heart rate yet again. I didn't feel the bed dip, I swear I was hyper aware…

A chord of melodic giggles fill the small bubble, warmth and familiarity immediately welling up in his chest and his recognition of the voice is glorious.

“Sho'cye?!”

His eyes get used to the blue dimness of his room, and he can finally see her clearly. Luminous smile that always graces her lips either in wonder or welcome. Humble, as always, with her unbound and flowing midnight ocean hair and, and…

Is that… civvie shorts and oversized t-shirt? Like those natborns wear to bed?

Sho'cye grins up at him. “You look at me as if you've seen a ghost.”

Rex, of course, gets reminded by the small yet embarrassing yelp that came out of him and the fact that she watched on. His cheeks heat up, wishing he’s got his bucket on now. “Very funny.”

Always with her quirkiness. Never changed.

He understands. Sho'cye has always been alone in the wide galaxy and she needs company. So he’d been there by her sole power, meeting up in the tropical dream realm he dubbed the Coastline when he was still a cadet, and throughout his growth cycle until he said goodbye that day… because the war had started.

“But… that's also because you're not supposed to be here,” he states wonderingly, his voice coming out hoarse.

Coruscant has no natural body of water on its surface. Or rather, topside. There's nothing of sorts. Coruscant is out of touch by her power but… she's here. In his quarters, out of all places. When his sleep was disturbed by the nightmares, out of all people.

Sho'cye doesn't reply, instead getting to her feet and crossing the room in the direction of his water canteen sitting on his desk.

“Ah, I'll–”

“It's okay!” she chirps, making her way back now with his canteen in her grasp. She smiles. “Allow me, Rex.”

His heart wells at the gesture, still in disbelief that she's here right now!. It takes everything in him not to pull her into a hug again… the last one they shared – the first time as well – was before he departed from the Coastline for an unknown stretch of time. Because the war stretches on, too. It had been warm and left him smiling for days straight, the weight in his chest lighter with refueled confidence. Such is her power.

After taking a few gulps of his water, he places the canteen on his side table. He bites the inside of his lip hesitantly, the previous thought overtaking the space in his head. Sho'cye merely looks at him, patiently waiting for him to speak because she just knows, her eyes soft. Oh her eyes. I wish I could just… see those nice sea green colors. It's been a while.

He used to admire them. Getting lost in the spectrum. Still is. The blue in his markings is a beautiful color indeed, but they're no match to her colors. But at least, his blue is also the color of the ocean as a whole, the color that one could see from a faraway view, or maybe when they treat themselves to a view of Kamino from orbit. 

Sho'cye stands there, towering over him when he's only been sitting in his cot. The distinction only makes him realize, so wordlessly, he grabs her wrist and tugs her in so she can retake her place at the side of his cot. Plopping down in acceptance, a light laugh escapes her lips – the small atmosphere momentarily filled with bliss of the reunion.

Rex's chest warms again at the joyous sound, but he's got more questions that need answering, and Sho'cye knows that.

“I sensed your distress when you were sleeping,” she starts. Oddly, she feels a little closer than before… Her expression, concerned. “You called for me.”

He'd forgotten about the nightmare at this point, too indulged in her surprise presence, but it's her presence itself, isn't it? “I just…” Well, she's right, I practically did. “Was just wishing you were here to ease my disturbed sleep,” he says, his hand coming up to the spot in the back of his neck that suddenly needs rubbing.

She smiles, blue illuminating the silhouettes of her face. “Well, I am here now.”

But her being here must’ve taken too much of her power. She said herself that her hold of her dominion ceases greatly on a planet with very little natural water. Coruscant is surely no exception. Manifesting a physical body the similar way she had been in the Coastline… while it makes him realize just how much divine power she has, it equally makes him feel bad. Coming here… just for me?

“You don't have to do that,” he finds himself saying. Even if it's technically what he truly wants (he'd love nothing but her company), her making the journey to the existence plane just for him must've taken a lot. It makes him, quite tremendously, feel bad. “S’just a nightmare. Going back to sleep will fix it.”

She raises her eyebrows challengingly, “So you don't want me here?”

“No!” Why was I even saying that? And I said it poorly! “I-I mean that you didn't have to go that far just to comfort a single clone with a nightmare.”

“But you've been harboring all these to yourself for the past week,” she insists, placing a hand atop his. She lets out a breath, eyes deeply boring into him. “I'm worried about you, Rex.”

He looks down at their hands, stacked and resting on his thin mass-produced blanket. Warmth emanates from the simple gesture, healing the longing that has been deeply settling inside him all this time. The relief and comfort bursts out of his chest like beams of light, making him sigh with the belief that it's safe now, both of us in our own little bubble.

In the darkness of his quarters, he tries not to picture the landscape of eternal midnight of that forsaken planet tinged with purple and vermillion red, eerie with fallen soldiers and death and tragic misfortune. He grounds himself, tries to cling onto Sho'cye's hold. He squeezes her hand in his, his other hand scrubbing down his face and across his buzzed blond hair.

“Our most recent campaign was in Umbara.” Rex swallows, staring dead on to their joined hands – every blink of his eyes is tempting him to just enjoy the darkness to mull and grief once again. “There was a new general. He was well-known in our ranks with the highest casualty count. He was nonchalant about the clones, Sho'cye, and he's a traitor. Had a Separatist agenda of his own and used us to turn against each other, I made us slaughter our own men…”

The hour they reconvened with the 212th was the worst. Even Fives had offered to take over to explain everything to General Kenobi because he just couldn't when Cody turned his way. His men killed Cody's men. Lieutenant Waxer died in their hands – a painful death full of betrayal. The single tear that came from the late brother's eye had him to not break down right there, his heart wrenching and all he'd wanted was to throw up.

Cody looked at him. He couldn't. Thankfully Fives had been quite to the point, as the most disturbed man out of them all, that while General Kenobi had been struggling to swallow everything that happened with the 501st, Cody pulled him aside. No words were traded, he sternly kept his gaze to the floor as his brother led him out of the vicinity, dragged him into a closed space – only right there and then, he dared to look up at Cody.

And finally, he broke down. His tears were angry, his throat hurt from snarling down his wails, his shoulders heaving and his plastoid chestplate squeaking against Cody's. Cody tried his best to muffle his little brother's cry – his distraught little brother whom he'd just want to hide from the world at that moment – and thought better of the situation, but it was the only moment Rex had broken down openly and so gut wrenchingly that it drove quieter sobs out of the marshal commander, too.

“If only I wasn't so blind following orders,” Rex's voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. He sniffs and swallows the lump in his throat. “I can't get it out of my head.”

He tilts his head to look at Sho'cye, almost regretting doing so when he spots a single tear in the midst of its path down her fair cheek reflecting in the low light. The way his heart clenches at the sight… his movement doesn't waver when he gingerly wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I felt your troubled hearts,” her hushed voice says gently, “What you felt ran deep in the Force, Rex, that even I could feel it. Your trouble, your apprehension, and your fear. And Pong Krell’s true intentions bled painfully into the Force as well.”

She knew. Of course she knew.

“I just wish you were here with us. Could've saved so much trouble to prevent incidents like this from happening.”

“I am with you. Always,” she says, taking both his hands in hers, “And you have the Jedi Order in my place.”

A harsh sigh through the nostrils, his stomach churns bitterly. “The Jedi failed us in Umbara with their decision to switch my general with that snake,” he gripes, fists clenching momentarily only to remember Sho'cye's hand in his. He sighs again instead, this time laced with exhausted irritation. “And Skywalker went along. He knew, we all knew about Krell, but he just couldn't…”

“Disobey orders?” Sho'cye finishes for him, her head tilting as if saying but neither could you.

Rex shakes his head. “If only I could do just that to save my men from unnecessary deaths.”

The Commander had been the one who noticed his deteriorating performance. Unfocused during one of the discussions in the war room. Sluggish walk. Too many filler words in a whole conversation. So unlike him, and he's struggling to keep top performance. The Togrutan padawan has always been a perceptive one. It ended up her pitching to her Master, and the other day the General comm’d him to come and see the mind healers at the Temple. Knowing Wolffe's severe PTSD due to Abregado has mostly been treated by seeing those Jedi mind healers, Rex is seriously considering it, as well.

Sho'cye reaches up, brushing her finger against his cheek– oh, that's a tear. I've been crying.

“You merely thought about what was best for the campaign at the moment. You were thorough and you were confident you'd go through, and you did. That is the value of being a soldier, is it not?”

Her voice is tender as she speaks, careful as if any louder than low mutter would break him. She reaches up again, this time with both hands, and cups his face gently. A shuddered breath falls off his lips. The warmth of her palms against his skin resounds so much comfort that he needs, the remnants of his longing radiating out into the compassionate touch.

Rex leans into it, giving in, relishing in all the warmth there is against his cold cheeks. Before he can stop it, he’s already scooting closer, so she wouldn't have to reach him too far and so he would've felt more warmth radiating off herself. And yet, in all turns of events, she's meeting him halfway too with a little scoot of her own and their thighs end up brushing against each other.

Determination burns, stoking yearning fire inside his chest, so he reaches up as well, cupping either side of her head and gently tugs her in to lean his forehead against hers – a show of affection he'd known all his life and done only with his brothers.

He can't see the pretty sea green colors inside those orbs in the dark. Sho'cye is bathed in blue, the source of the light sitting low-power on one of his desks, creating a humble image, yet divine still, with the color of her ocean. 

“Remember what I said?” she begins to whisper, their little bubble belonging to no one else but them in their closeness. “You're a good man, Rex. By heart, and by soul.” Her thumb caresses his cheekbone, showing her tender care and love. “Whatever you did… it's not your fault.”

There's a shuffle of movement. At the slightest shift that she makes, his body absently takes it as a cue and moves in – his head tilting to the side and burying his own face into her shoulder for just a moment to hide from the world, his arms wrapped and snug around her waist. The position is sideways and awkward at best, but it's when she shuffles again, quietly, slowly peeling his arms off just so that she can turn around, tucks her feet under her, and receiving him back into her arms. Rex pulls her in closer, arms returning to their rightful place around her waist as his person craves more of her warmth, her comforting words, and her familiar petrichor scent as he breathes shudderingly into her collar bone.

Upon his quiet wavered exhale, Sho'cye's hand rubs up and down his back, the other is cradling the back of his head. Rex sighs contentedly, her fingers lazily running through his short hair, the comfort provided is simply unexplainable. All he can feel at that moment is that I'm safe now. She's here. I'm safe.

She wipes away tracks of dried sweat. Plucking at the back of his white t-shirt he wears to sleep to relieve his skin from the fabric that sticks so air can circulate back in. Her flowing hair, the color a shade of the ocean during midnight, forms a curtain around his head when she tilts her head down to place a kiss on the top of his head, his buzzed hair probably tickling her lips and chin but she doesn't care. And another, on the skin near his hairline – her compassion oozing with full force through the gesture. His hold on her tightens.

“When you die,” says Sho'cye quietly, her lips ghosting against his forehead, “Your essence will return to my waters. In this war, you take life, but when you die, you shall give life. You're in the sea, in the lake… in the rain. You'll have your place among the stars too, together resonating harmoniously in the Force, and the Force will sing and praise how tireless you warriors are. You fought for the peace of the galaxy, and you will relish and rejoice in the peaceful arms of death that you're finally at rest.”

Growing up acknowledging as an expendable soldier who would eventually die at war, the topic of a soldier's death is always unavoidable. But a warrior's death… after so many tireless fights. Fighting gives them life. The war. Something to live for. Something worth dying for. In the end, the peaceful rest must be a luxurious comfort. Being one with nature, with her, in the very waters that surrounds their home.

Sho'cye protects them in life. And even in death.

It brings so much comfort and safety to his heart.

“I wish you were a Jedi general or something,” Rex says hesitantly. He reels away from her shoulder, looking at her in the eyes, almost trying to convince her. “We need you here and close. Could've saved so much trouble. Could've changed the entire war itself.”

“A great idea, but who would watch over all of you?” A smile breaks out in her countenance, and further in fondness as she recalls, “Back then, Rex; every day I thought about these… lives, so many lives born into the world. There hadn't been many in Kamino, so I knew I had to see for myself.” A massive shift in the balance of the Force, it had been. “Then I saw you, bred for a purpose, your minds left alone and in constant unease of what's to come. Your fate earned my utmost attention. And love.”

The amber in his eyes glimmer with life, even in the dark, as a breathy chuckle falls off his lips. He smiles almost sheepishly, “I keep forgetting you can see the future.”

“It's not exactly fun,” she indulges him happily, “I have to weave my own threads to gain what I want.” She caresses down the side of his face. “And what I want is a better future.”

The topic of such a future is for another day. If they ever meet again. Even she isn't certain to do this again – manifesting a physical body onto the existence plane and drawing so much from the Force. It isn't draining in any way, but it takes most of her focus to be here.

Rex's pleads inside his mind had been loud. Cries that called out upon betrayal. Cries that blamed himself. She'd been wanting to be with him, to comfort him, but gathering her strength to cross planes took time. And now that she's here, she's glad to be welcomed with open arms and an open heart. To be close to him… to be able to embrace him, dearest and most cherished companion.

The way her heart always falters at his mournful tears, the way she'd want nothing else but good for his fate.

Rex's hand comes off her waist to stifle a yawn.

Warmth emanates in her chest at the simple sight. It reminds her of everything that's him. She grins. “It's been a long time since I've seen you yawn.”

One of his dark brows rise – the one thing she'd find as his quirk, no matter how many times he'd explained that it's normal to have different colors for eyebrows from hair. While she adores his blond head that he'd always like to keep as short as possible, one time Rex grinded so hard with his intense training that he hadn't the time to buzz it off – it had been a little curly at the top. As what they would say; she'd pay good credits to catch sight of that again.

“What, you like my yawn?”

“I think it's adorable,” she nods pleasantly, before going to tap the spot between his brows, “The way your eyebrows pinch in the middle, I think.”

With one hand still resting against his cheek, Shocye can feel the skin under growing a little warmer. His eyes dart to the side before meekly meet hers again. “I'll yawn more often, then?” 

She chuckles. “You wish so? I can take your consciousness out in mere seconds,” she teases back, half joking. “It's the things that make you human, Rex. It's what you are, after all. You're everything human.”

He smiles, eyes glimmering in the dark. “And you're everything not.”

Her fondness of him deepens. As it always has been, for years, since their first meeting that day and onward. It doesn't take long for her fondness to blossom into something more… something she dares not to venture. But she's a being of compassion, and compassion that's exaggerated incites desire. While it's not something unfavorable… a deity and a mortal is unheard of.

Perhaps with her own selfishness, Rex should be hers, and is already hers, yet obsessive love tips the scale of balance. Instead she lets her love run free, flowing with the course of nature and only reciprocating when there's a sign. Even if there is, another obstacle would be the nature itself – the Force, herself. There must be consequences for such things.

Rex begins to scoot away from her, settling to lie down again to catch up on lost time of rest.

But she won't leave him. Not again. At least not right away. The absence of natural water in Coruscant doubles her use of power – even the water in Rex's canteen is processed – but for Rex… for them, the clones… she needs to be here.

He watches her lifting his thin blanket, eyes blown wide, taken aback.  “W-what are you doing?”

Hesitance takes root inside her for even forgetting to ask. “Do you… mind?”

“I,” he weighs for a moment – a sad look and true confusion latching onto his bronze-toned face. “I don't know.”

Her face falls, yet tinged with understanding. She starts to move away, the words I don't wish to make you uncomfortable probably tickling her tongue to be let out because he knows her like that and he knows her long.

And I never feel like so, Rex wants to say sometimes. When I'm with you.

“It's just!” he says a little loud, a little panicked when she’s just getting to her feet. She plops back down, eyes blinking curiously prompting him to continue. “It's just gonna be a little tight.” His shoulders shrug not only to defuse his awkwardness, but to cover the growing heat on his cheeks, too. “And um, this is a one person cot… y'know.”

Sho'cye tilts her head, a cheeky smile makes her eyes glitter. “I think we can make it work.” She lifts the blanket again and slips her dainty legs in, her warm skin brushing against his red fatigues. “Scoot over, Captain.”

Rex is already doing that. “I told you not to call me that,” he chides playfully, but as he does that he gets into one of those rare moments where he falls off balance and unaware of his surroundings; an ow escapes him as his head bangs against durasteel. He swiftly formulates a plan out of instinct. “I hit the wall. Sideways.”

The goddess obliges, shifting to roll onto her side – one hand slipping under the pillow and her head, elbow brushing against his. A few unsuspecting seconds later, he rolls onto his back and fits snugly into the wider space.

He smirks smugly at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

Her melodic laughter fills his ears, a hand swatting at his shoulder and remains there. He can feel her fingers slightly gripping on his shirt. A glance to the side; the blue light illuminates her hair and he finally can see the blue of her tresses, and there's a wide gleeful smile gracing her fair face. “Since when did you even get so sly?”

A grin finally breaks out in his lips. “I’m a captain. I need to,” he says, reminiscing the times during shore leaves spent with, mainly, a handful of Torrent. “But probably since hanging with the boys a lot.”

Fives and Hardcase dart past his mind.

Sho'cye hums. “Do tell me more about them one day.”

“Of course.” But could she just find out herself– nevermind she's playing human right now.

Comfortable silence envelops over them like a second fuzzy blanket. Rex wonders if it's because of her mere presence, or an extra smidge of her power. Either way, he's fulfilled, the heavier weight on his heart has been lifted. With her quite literally next to him, an unspoken promise of a good night's sleep greets him with a smile and open arms.

He turns again under the blanket, this time lying on his belly so he can turn his head sideways to face her, arms pinned down to his sides. Sharing one pillow to lay their heads, he's aware their faces are inches away from each other's. Even breathing through her nostrils, air grazes his nose and cheeks softly. He wishes they could've done a sleepover like this back in his cadet days. Probably under a tree with that red rug and throw pillows, with a bonfire of her conjuration, the Coastline skies dark with stars glittering in the blank ethereal canvas.

Her eyes bore into his, blinking.

But those days have passed. Sho'cye being physically here – this could be one and only time happening.

How he wishes post-campaign exhaustion can stretch for a bit longer.

“I wish there'd been a body of water in our Umbara campaign,” Rex mumbles lowly, lips brushing against the pillow beneath him. His gaze meets Sho'cye's in mourning, the glassy look in her eyes reflecting the feeling likewise. Wish you were there. “Could've saved us so much.”

“Me too,” she whispers, nuzzling against the pillow like he does. She casts her gaze down, as if regretfully. Rex takes her hand and squeezes it. When she looks at him, once again he wishes he can look at sea green pools instead – how he misses them, and their dreamy landscape, the Coastline. Squeezing back, Sho'cye quietly admits, “Being unable to closely watch all over you unsettles me.”

Rex hums in acknowledgement and understanding. The burden must be heavy to look after and care for them, and equally is for not being able to. As after all these years, even her admissions and smallest gestures touch his heart. A deity choosing us clones, protecting us, over any other.

Stepping over the boundary of their intimacy, Rex tries not to meet her gaze, his movement half sheepish and half daring as he drapes an arm over her waist to pull her closer to his body. Without a breath of complaint, the goddess indulges him, even twisting her body so she lies on her back and snakes an arm under his neck.

“Sorry,” he breathes into her shirt, settling his cheek against her shoulder comfortably and his body against hers. Even clothed with a civvie t-shirt (the notion remains funny and adorable to him), unlike the last time they embraced she had adorned a sundress, she feels warm against him, and always does.

“Don't be,” she murmurs above him, “I like this, too.”

His cheeks and the warmth in his chest burn brighter, the fond statement only making him bury his face further into her neck.

A hand comes up to caress his short buzz, back and forth… his eyelids grow heavier and heavier… the repetitive movement lulling him to surrender to sleep at last.

Rex uses the last couple of ounces to stay awake and make sure, “You still gonna be here when I wake up?”

“No.” She nuzzles her nose into his hairline, still sounding very much awake – protective, oozing with care, making sure he’s asleep first before she follows. “As much as I'd love to.”

He hums.

His breathing steadies. There's a warm hand – hers – on his arm, adding another gesture of protectiveness to everything; half her body under his, snug and fit in his cot, his arm around her and is clinging onto her t-shirt, and her other hand stroking his hair.

He wishes it could be just like this, instead of… everything happening out there in whatever part of the galaxy.

His consciousness is slipping away.

And before he succumbs to the sweetness of slumber, he hears Sho'cye whispers to his hair,

“Sleep well, my sweet sea blossom.” Warm soft lips, tenderly, upon his forehead. “The nightmares are no more.”

Taglist (Form): @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @filamentlights @heidnspeak

[dont-offend-the-bees]

DontOffendTheBees' DBDA Fic Masterpost

Or, essentially, my 2024 Ao3 Wrapped because this show is all I've posted on main all year 😅 But it's nice to be back in the swing of writing and it's been such a rough year, so I'm gonna take a minute now to bask in the glow of my accomplishments 💛

(please note fic links are to Ao3, and fics are locked to be visible to registered users only!)

Ongoing Fics:

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? (M, 31.9k, ch. 3/4, Charles/Edwin)

A haunting little odyssey of Edwin finding his earthly remains, and figuring out where the hell to go from there. Was hoping to finish this off before the year was out but pain and other projects sadly got in the way! Don't worry, she will be complete one day, I swear!

Somewhere Beyond the Sea (T, 7k, ch 1/5, Charles/Edwin)

A sweet and magical Payneland Ponyo AU, written originally as a Secret Santa gift and then ballooning WAY out of proportion! I'm so, so excited for how this one turns out!

One-shots:

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) (T, 1.4k, Charles/Edwin)

Where it all began, a little ficlet I wrote based on a writing group prompt which made me realised how much fun the character voices were to play with. Short and sweet, Charles takes photos of Edwin and finds ways to be cheerful about it even when he doesn't show up in them.

Outside Looking In (T, 3.6k, Charles/Edwin)

Outsider POV fic in which Charles and Edwin are overhead having a very strange but sweet conversation while in their older disguises. While this was an early fic and there's probably some stuff I'd change about the dialogue if I wrote it now, I'm so fond of it and I'm touched by the response to it - ESPECIALLY in the form of Robin's incredible gifset! (this gifset MUST be reblogged by everyone, btw.)

The Scenic Route (T, 2.1k, Charles/Edwin)

A short, sweet little agency outing and Payneland get-together, written in large part to daydream of a better world of public transportation while I was stuck standing on a cross-country train for two hours.

No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It (T, 9.3k, Charles/Edwin)

Mandatory 'Charles massively overthinks getting together with Edwin' fic, a comedy of errors, featuring foiled kissing schemes, party games, flimsy excuses, and my first fateful foray into discovering how fun Cat King is to write.

’Cause You Cut Through All the Noise (M, 5.3k, Charles/Edwin)

First day of Payneland week, what a time! Edwin helps Charles calm down from a panic spiral with a healthy application of sweet, gently non-sexual dom/sub play, featuring sweet words and soothing games of cat's cradle.

Though We're Strangers 'Til Now (T, 4.7k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 2. One of my more out-there concepts; in the campy tradition of Saturday night British fantasy telly a la Merlin or Atlantis, Charles and Edwin take the mythological roles of Theseus and Ariadne. This fic exists in large part due to @every-moment-a-different-sound making me aware of Payneland week and asking me to collaborate, and once again, it is COMPULSORY that you go and reblog their GORGEOUS SHOWSTOPPING INCREDIBLE GIFS.

I Got Sunshine in a Bag (T, 1.2k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 3. The little script-format fic where (spoiler alert) Charles confesses his feelings to Edwin in the safe haven of his own magical bag of tricks. Sweet and silly!

Something I Can Turn To (T, 2.4k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 4. The AU where Charles and Edwin are alive in the same era, and helped each other survive the brutality of their teenage years. This one was so lovely to write and there's a little bittersweet hollow in my heart carved out for it. This fic also spawned this absolutely lovely art by @yasartmeme (GO REBLOG, GIVE IT LOVE) and a collection of related stories by several wonderful authors. Every time someone else dips their toe into this universe it warms my chilly little heart.

If the Shoe Fits, Then I Won’t Try It On (T, 2k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 5. Another outing with the disguises; pre-canon, Charles and Edwin on a case, getting used to their new magic disguises and constructing dubious backstories.

Spinning on That Dizzy Edge (M, 1k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 6. Short little flirty, steamy, fun date night with Charles and Edwin in a haunted pub, with a piano <3

Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light (M, 7.3k, Charles/Edwin)

Payneland week day 7. AKA the attic scene, as told in a soulmate AU. A few people who don't generally like soulmate AU's have told me this one plays with the concept in a way they found interesting and refreshing! Suffice it to say there's a happy ending, but not of the sort generally associated with the genre. And this one comes with yet another mandatory-reblog gifset, this one by @mellxncollie, which is SO beautiful and should be in an art gallery and truly such an honour to bestow upon my little words 💛

We Glimpse Each Other Out of Phase (T, 3.7k, Charles/Edwin)

Another little instalment in the Alive AU of Something I Can Turn To, this time a bittersweet domestic scene on a sleepless night in the kitchen.

Wise Men Build Their Houses on Rocks While the Rest of Us Settle for Skeletons (M, 2.2k, Cat King/Edwin)

First foray into Catwin! (or at least first on the main account 😉) Edwin digs through the Cat King's magical artifacts; and finds an ominous relic of his past lives.

Sink Your Teeth Right Through My Bones, Baby (M, 0.6k, Charles/Edwin)

First of the spotify wrapped inspired ficlets! A little glimpse into Edwin's mind as he and Charles cautiously approach a new dynamic in the bedroom.

Looks Like We’re In for Nasty Weather (T, 0.6k, Charles/Edwin)

Wrapped ficlet. Edwin and Charles brace themselves in the face of an ominous supernatural storm brewing.

Keep Me Warm, Love Me Long, Be My Sunlight (T, 1k, Cat King/Edwin/Charles)

Wrapped ficlet, and preview of the Ghostcat 1920s AU currently in the works by myself, @dear-monday and @tw0-ravens! In a sun-drenched loft in the last days of summer, Thomas contemplates what he has, and when he'll lose it.

Should I Cool It, or Should I Blow? (M, 1.9k, Cat King/Charles)

Wrapped ficlet. The Cat King confronts Charles after another little enemies-with-benefits hook-up for a little clarification on what, exactly, he's doing with his life.

And that about wraps it up for 2024! But I'll keep adding underneath this post when I inevitably write more -- so I'll be seeing you guys in '25! 🥰 Thank you thank you THANK YOU everyone who's shown me such incredible support over this year, this has been such an unbelievably fun fandom experience and I'm excited to sink my teeth into even more and longer fics next year 💛💛💛

My 2024 Writing Stats:

Works Published: 19 Word Count: 89,859 Top 3 fics (by kudos): 1. Outside Looking In 2. No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It 3. The Scenic Route

2025 One-Shots:

Third Contact of a Brief, yet Significant Eclipse (M, 4.2k, Cat King/Edwin)

A spin-off/prequel fic set in the universe of Wunderkammer by dear_monday and two_ravens! A bittersweet little scene at the tail end of museum curator!Edwin's dalliance with the Cat King; a torrid affair which lasted the duration of the 1960s.

Bet Was Made, I Kneeled and Prayed (and Went Off Like a Shotgun) (M, 2.5k, Cat King/Charles)

Wrapped fic, the last of them. Charles and the Cat King enjoy a bit of fun, fighty, no-strings messing around; and the Cat King comes away with more feelings than he bargained for.

[mer-acle]

AU masterpost

Meaning the AUs for EPIC/ Greek Mythology I'm involved with

(not counting my fanfics so far bc they're more canon divergence rather than AUs)

Zeus' Favorite

with @evermorecatra

What if Zeus was like 5000% more asshole and Athena was traumatized in like all the ways long before Odysseus was even born?

Alternate title: All Issues AU

Introduction post:

Slipping through my fingers

What if Hera adopted Athena as her own and then things went terribly wrong?

Alternate title: Mama's girl AU

Introduction Post:

Odyssey of the Cats

with @evermorecatra

So Tasha has a cat called Odysseus. Eve has a cat called Penelope. Surely nothing will go wrong as the four of them try to reunite. And why on earth do weird people keep talking to me?

Alternate title: No angst in our crack-fic about cats, Ody-promise.

Introduction post (kinda):

according tags below:

[wadesbedtimestories]

masterpost

*links and tags will be added as i go along!

main tags: all recs | leanne's recs | sent in recs | fic reblog | my writing | misc

word counts: <1k | 1k–10k | 10k–50k | 50k–100k | >100k

ratings: general | teen and up | mature | explicit

—basic tags—

fluff | humour | domestic

physical hurt/comfort | emotional hurt/comfort | misunderstandings | light angst | angst

happy ending | ambiguous ending | unhappy ending

whump* | dead dove* | dark fic* | major character death*

eventual smut | smut | pwp*

the pwp tag will be used for fics that are mainly/all smut, and the smut tag is for fics that contain smut but does not take up majority of the fic plot. the explicit tag is for fics with not just sexual content but also graphic violence etc. they will be given an explicit rating from 1 ❗️ to 5 ❗️

bottom wade | top wade | bottom logan | top logan

honda odyssey

—tropes and AUs—

tropes:

established relationship | getting together

slow burn | mutual pining | jealousy

love confessions | accidental love confessions

5+1

AUs:

x-men universe | no powers

soulmate | body swap

—wade and logan—

trans wade | trans logan

wade has ptsd | logan has ptsd | anxiety attacks

wade has self-esteem issues/insecure wade | logan has self-esteem issues/insecure logan

protective wade | protective logan

dark wade* | dark logan*

—*tags to block—

*these are tagged differently just so they're specific to this account, and you won't be blocking the tags across tumblr

p for pwp

k for kinky (weirder kinks)

d for dead dove/dark fic (includes dark wade and dark logan)

w for whump

u for unhappy ending

m for major character death

[wildbluesorbit]

Wounded II || JTK

…A Continuation of London

18+MDNI

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: It’s arrival is finally upon us… so sorry it only took three weeks:( I promise the wait was worth though; out of the whole series, this installment was my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE to create !! Shoutout to @tommie-gvf for editing:) I am beyond excited to hear what y'all think!

i didn't notice the last 2k words cut off (x)

Summary || Navigating through the aftermath of your argument, you can’t bring yourself to face Jake.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, explicit depictions of night terrors/panic attack, brief mentions of anger and physical aggression and bodily harm and murder/death and sexual assault, verbal aggression, reckless/distracted driving, brief mention of drug use, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive and isolative episodes, [non-aggressive] unannounced entry into readers bedroom, a very brief boner lol

Word Count || 7.2k

— JAKE —

You wince at the strain of your stiff muscles propped against her bedroom door, eyes accosted by the morning light. The sequence of how the cold hard floor became your bed for the night is less than clear. Your only clues, the taste of liquor and guilt still bitter on your dry tongue, you are most likely the asshole. 

You will your aching body upwards, the pounding in your head follows your first step. You accomplish the odyssey that is the hallway to your bedroom and start on your appearance for the studio; the account of the night before depositing itself moment by moment as you ooze about your room. 

Still couldn’t get your puppy out of her little cage?

You cringe as you brush your teeth and fight your tangled tresses to loop into a low bun, a tangible distraction to repress the clawing conviction. 

I heard she won’t even let you pet her.

A huff escapes you as you slip on your socks and step into your boots. You grab your coat, intent on heading downstairs, but you instead find yourself not strong enough to withstand the gravity, unable to accomplish your trek to the stairs; slave to the magnetic field of her bedroom door. You try to sketch out some impression of last night’s details, but clarity refuses to reveal itself to you. You study the ridges of the wooden frame and grumble to the clueless girl you pray is comatose on the other side.

The sound of your older brother calling you from downstairs breaks your spell as you shuffle towards the source.

The guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me. 

Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?

Thick eyebrows furrow in your direction as a baffled Josh canvasses your face for any indication as to why you struggle to recite a simple breakfast order; your disconcerting recollections jerking you by the reins in and out of disassociation. You almost wish you could remain inviolable in your amnesic ignorance. 

When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this?! 

You shake off your shame as you put aside the freshly delivered food on the kitchen counter for her to find after she wakes up. You lock the front door after Josh walks through and take a deep cleansing breath before you step into your car, knowing you can’t take this baggage to the studio with you. 

You don’t get to speak to me this way.

I’ll be out the door.

Your twin yells over the roar of the rumble strips from the passenger seat as you stray into the shoulder, “Jake?! The road!”

Fuck you, Jacob. 

Just another thing you have yet to do. 

You plug in at the studio, butchering and tripping over riffs of your own design. 

The completely broken and mortified look you painted on her face.

The vision curses you blunderingly dumbfounded.

“Okay, let’s take a quick five,” Josh says over his brothers' instruments while silently interrogating you from across the booth.  

You mentally rewind to realize you had completely missed your entrance.

An aggravatingly tone-deaf Sam challenges the sudden hiatus, “But we just started?”

Josh blusters his youngest brother a look that threatens unbridled rage. 

A sympathetic Danny steps in to rescue a clueless Sam from Josh’s wrath, “Sam, want to go get high?”

Like dangling shiny keys in front of a toddler, Sam’s attention is now fixated on Danny’s proposal. The two giggling men giddily scurry out of the booth up to no good. As soon as the exit door swings shut Josh stomps over to you, rolling his eyes.

He unpacks his authoritative older sibling's tone as his hands wildly comb through the air for your confession, “Okay, enough moping, out with it.”

You don’t even bother armoring a defense. You know very well you would end up confiding in Josh sooner or later. You ineptly unload every detail you can extract from memory in an iniquitous admission to your twin. 

You haven’t even finished speaking your closing statement when a pinching sting burrows against your skin as a result of Josh’s backhand assailing your bicep. You hiss through pressed lips and rub over the infliction with your opposite hand, yet you don’t dare challenge the considerably clement treatment. 

“You are such a prick sometimes, I swear,” Josh professes through gritted teeth.

You’re so consumed by your guilt you can’t even concoct an offense.

“Do you think she's going to leave- Fuck, I would never speak to me again,” you answer your own question.

Your pleading eyes frisk over Josh’s identical features, hungry for some kind of reprieving answer. Yet his same honest spirit that knots and kneads your stomach is the same one that always gravitates you towards Josh for counsel in the first place.

“I can’t answer that for you, but I think it's important you at least give her enough distance to think clearly,” Josh dismally warns. 

Your thumb and middle finger start at the crease of your eyebrow and rub outwards to your temples, tugging at your skin till your fingertips reach your hairline and fall through your tied-back strands, “Did I fuck this up, Josh?”

You almost wish you couldn’t read his expression of pessimism as Sam and Danny reenter the studio, bursting at the seams with a laughter that you can’t even fathom in this moment. Their giggles cut right through your exchange with your twin. Josh squeezes your shoulder and gives you a smirk of consolation before resettling himself in his designated portion of the booth. His way of wordlessly telling you to keep your chin up and you’d discuss it later. 

You try your best to adjourn your sins for now as you know it is time for studio work and studio work only, yet still stumble and topple through every note without a hint of grace until the very last beat of the session. 

—YOU —

”Went to the studio, will be back late.  Enjoy your day                 -J “

Jake’s handwriting on the cardboard coffee cup sleeve informs you of his whereabouts. You inhale deeply, allowing the sweet soothing aroma of your favorite roast to sweep you to a better day. You are also embraced with an alluring savory scent. You restively snatch the small paper bag on the kitchen island that rests against your drink to discover an entirely different note. 

“p.s. Jake bought you a muffin too but  I got hungry :) - the other J”

You smile to yourself and unfold the crinkled brown bag to discover the comfort of your favorite grilled chicken caprese sandwich. You giddily scurry back to your room to start your day. 

You’ve found that making lists and organizing your time usually helps your mind from wandering where it shouldn't. So, you do just that. You make your lists. You order things low in stock around the house. You check your emails. 

You know you should close your laptop once you finish your clients’ work. Yet you find your mouse hovering over a new search bar. Foolishly, the hunt for apartments has begun with only a few clicks; knowing damn well you threatened your leaving in anger and don’t plan on going anywhere.

But as you scroll through listing after listing you begin to feel like maybe it could be time to leave and move on. Maybe you are suffocating everyone, but they can’t bring themselves to tread through your undoubtedly trauma-infested waters, hoping sooner or later you’ll fall off like a rotting limb. Or maybe the problem isn’t you but your lack of a clean slate. Maybe Jake ties you to the root of the tragedy just as much as he shelters you and grounds you in its aftermath. 

Instinctively, your monitor is slammed shut as your breath begins to flee from you. Even if this is true you can't make a decision based on some childish blurt. This would take genuine rumination. Which you are incapable of, considering you aren’t a hundred percent sure this isn’t some impulsive ammunition aimed at Jake. 

You sweep your consciousness clean and distract yourself with other productivity. You journal and read and wander around till you’d find a guitar. You do whatever you can to keep yourself busy.

Before you know it, the day turns into a week. You had been going to bed early before the boys got home so you really hadn’t spoken to anyone. You hadn’t even been purposely avoiding Jake, but space is what you keep telling yourself is best for the both of you since the other night. 

It is only five in the afternoon when you hear car doors slam in the driveway from where you have been stuck in the same book for hours in the library. You instinctively shut the hardback with a smack and fly upstairs.

Even though it has been over a week, you aren’t yet ready to talk to Jake. You have certainly forgiven his assailment but you hadn’t yet figured out how to face him or his words. So you tuck yourself away in your room, never to be seen.

That is until you hear a light knocking at your door a few hours later.

You freeze, careful to not make a sound. You hope that silence will discourage whatever suitor is on the other side, enough to leave you alone. 

“It’s just me,” you hear Josh’s voice travel through your room. 

Still cautious, you impugn before moving a muscle, “Yes?”

“It's okay, Jake’s not here,” he says flatly. 

You exhale in relief but still inch the door open slowly. You guardedly investigate to discover it is, in fact, Josh and only Josh. You still greet him with narrowed eyes. 

“You can relax, sunshine, the man is on a liquor run,” Josh reassures you. 

You are accosted by his bugging eyes till he gestures to the slight gap in the doorway, “Can I come in or-?”

You ostensibly inspect him, “All right but I’m going to have to pat you for any wires.”

Josh throws his head back in a quick sharp laugh as he welcomes himself into your room, “Ha! Don’t threaten me with a good time, sunshine. But I would not spy for Jake. I’m strictly here on third-party business.”

He makes himself comfortable on your bed and sits resting against your headboard; something you’ve always admired about Josh is his ability to make home anywhere and draw close to anyone. 

Once he settles, he sets your pillows against the wall next to him and smacks his hand against your comforter a few times, ushering you to join him on your own bed. You roll your eyes with a smile and jump onto your designated spot next to him. 

You force a cheeky smile, “So to what do I owe this displeasure?”

He places his hands over his chest and feigns an offended gasp, “Well, I was just coming to check on you.”

You remind yourself that you are safe with Josh and it's only his way of showing he genuinely cares when he places his hand over yours. It's like running against the wind, but it's all you can do to not shudder and immediately pull away.

His speech carries concern as he lightly squeezes your hand, “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Is that on purpose?”

You tense a bit at the directness of his question, “Not really. You have just been going into the studio early and staying out late recently.”

“Well, just remember isolation isn’t good for anyone and-”

“Josh-,” you start but he sings over you to finish his sentence.

“...and we miss you,” he lovingly interjects. 

Your words come out sharper than you intend, “We? Who’s we?”

“Yes, we.” he mimics your satire, “Me, Danny, Sam, and especially Jake.”

“Well, obviously not too much if it's you here and not him,” your tongue instinctually retorts.

“He doesn’t want to suffocate you is all, believe me, he certainly misses you,” Josh rolls his eyes, making you curious about Jake’s behavior after your argument.

“Sunshine,” Josh cuts directly to his inquiry, tired of tiptoeing, “What happened the other night?”

“Please,” you almost snort, “I’m convinced you and Jake secretly compare bowel movements. Don’t act like he didn’t already tell you every detail.”

“I mean he did,” Josh confesses, “I just want to hear what you have to say and see how you’re feeling. It might help you to talk about it.”

“Also, you’re gross,” he blurts and narrows his eyes. 

“As much as I totally want to relive your brother’s cruel words, Josh, I trust Jake told you everything like it happened but-,” you hesitate, the realization you might not like the answer just now seeping heavy into your bones, “what happened at the bar? Between Danny’s call and Jake's temper, I can tell something wasn’t right.”

Josh’s features drop with his shoulders and an exhale, “He didn’t tell you?”

You see an indiscernible visage dart across his features after you shake your head no. You recognize it as condolence as he carefully recounts that night in every stomach-knotting detail; depicting a very doleful Jake, a “bitch-for-brains loudmouth” as Josh put it and her insolent tears at Jake, followed by his solemn exit and dodged phone calls. 

Your heart writhes from its relocation in the pit of your stomach, almost sick at the thought. Your inability to leave the house is now bleeding into all aspects of his life and polluting his liveliness you loved so; a light that has seen you through the ugliest dark. 

Josh frees you from the quicksand of your spiraling thoughts with a fragmented one of his own, “He waits for you, you know?”

He must read the confusion on your face as he rephrases, coloring in the empty lines with a bit more context, “Every night- Jake- He’ll always have this stupid giddy look on his face when he tells us the good news that you should be joining that evening. And I know my brother, he genuinely believes it. I can tell he’s not being optimistic or even humoring himself, or you. Then when he shows alone, he’s never angry or upset. He’ll just tell us you were too tired or weren’t feeling up for the outing. But I swear to you- his eyes never leave the door. Even if distracted, his body is always facing the entrance. He’ll never admit it- I’m not even sure if it's a conscious habit, but he always holds out hope that you’ll show up. We all do- just can’t hold a flame up to him. I have yet to hear him speak a bad word of you or complain of your absence. He has such faith in you, more than I think you realize, and I have yet to see it dim. I’ve never seen Jake so far gone in love with someone and he only wants to see you grow.”

Your mouth opens to speak but all words seem 10,000 miles from your horizon. Your eyes begin to pool as you try to grab at any response, his last words poisoning any other ideations. Neither Jake nor you had spoken a word of “I love you” to each other since that harrowing night, much less did he mention being in love. 

You want to ask Josh a thousand questions of what he meant by that. What has Jake said? What has Jake done? How does he know for certain? You have to leave now, right? Wouldn’t that be the selfless thing to do? Yet, you can’t vocalize one.

The debut of your salty streaming eyes ushers Josh to reel in his sermon, “Look- you don’t have to say anything- unless you want to. I definitely want to hear but I don’t want to pry. And I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad, I’m just trying to give him some credit and it's something I thought you should take into consideration. Just in case you felt as if that might be impeding you. So when you do return, that's one less thing off your plate. I promise no one will look at you differently. We're all just so eager and ready to have you back by our side again.”

His immediate addition is an exact echo of his brother, “No rush though. You do what feels right, sunshine.”

You swipe at your glossy cheeks and only nod in understanding, still unable to grasp a word. 

“Alright, I also just wanted to let you know we have a flight in the morning and  we’re out of town for the next few days,” he steers the conversation in a less hazardous direction. 

“So you’ll have the house to yourself,” he playfully wags his finger in your face, “and no ragers, young lady. I mean it!” 

“No promises, but I’ll see you when you get back,” you pucker your lips, caperingly blowing him a kiss. 

“Unless you want to be a stowaway? No one would stop you,” his eyes grow wide along with his smile; the same one that always grants you such safety when it appears on his twin. 

You lark, “But then when would I have my party?!”

“Ah, clever girl,” he accepts his defeat. 

Josh takes liberty and scoots down to lay cozy in your bed, indicating he is going to regale you with his illustriously dazzling conversation. And he does. You catch up with each other on your weeks and he tells you what they plan to do on their trip. You ask him how Sam and Danny are doing, and then Jake.

Just as he's illustrating an anecdote of some embarrassing and eccentric stunt Sam pulled to infuriate Jake today, you hear the heavy steps of tired boots coming up the stairs. 

Josh’s story is totally derailed by his twin, “He sure is heavy-footed for someone so small.”

“You know you’re just as-” you start. 

“For my whole life, unfortunately,” he shakes his head in a faux grief. 

“Well, we have an early start and I was told I can’t be late this time,” he rolls his eyes, “I better head to bed.”

Josh exuberantly springs from the mattress to his feet and theatrically bows in a goodbye, knowing better than to attempt any sort of embrace. 

He pulls away to make eye contact, “Be right back, call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you throw him one last jest, “Have a safe flight and don’t forget Sam’s leash!”

“Please, he’s Danny’s pet, not mine,” he scoffs and saunters towards the door, “goodnight, sunshine, love you.”

You tell Josh goodnight and return his love before he winks you goodbye and gently shuts your door, disappearing behind it. 

You giggle as the sounds of him dramatically stomping down the stairs in a motion to Jake’s prior thuds through your room. 

That night, sleep hides itself away from you. Josh’s words chase each other, crashing and rattling around your head like a pack of rabid wolves. With each passing second you can’t help but think of the warm-bodied man down the hall from you. 

Is he fast asleep, unbothered by you? Is he awake? Is he thinking of you too? Does your presence burden him? Is he fighting the urge to come see you? Is your name on his lips?

Your racing thoughts are broken by the trudging of a sleepy, no doubt grumpy, Jake. 

The footsteps travel from his room and seem to concentrate as they get closer to your door, until directly in front. You hold your breath as you hear Jake mutter something and hiss in frustration. You’re only able to make out his last words as they barrel from his throat. 

“Please, just- be here when I get back,” he implores the silence of an empty hallway.

Your chest pounds erratically, your heart threatening to escape its cage. It’d only been a week but you don’t realize how much you ached for him until your bones entered a state of conniption at the sound of his slumber-rasped voice. 

You know he assumes you’re asleep and these words aren't yours to hear. You can’t help but wonder if this is the first night he’s addressed your inanimate door. Your malaised heart sings a mourning song to the resentful tune of Jake’s boots dragging him towards the stairs and away from you.

A decent night’s sleep still refuses to slip into your covers with you, so it's the sun that puts you to bed. The next few nights prove the same. You try your best to fix your sleep pattern, performing laborious tasks during the day to tire yourself out but it renders useless.

You refuse to take any kind of relaxant, as the haze always takes you back to a sensation you never want to return to. You aren’t sure if it's Josh’s words or another bad storm on your horizon, but you have become an insomniac. 

It has only been 4 days, but each one is a bit more challenging than the previous; today rains over you like a hailstorm. 

You don't want to get out of bed. You don’t want to get up to use the bathroom. You don’t want to shower or get dressed. You don’t even want to eat.

You have no wants, only musts.

You must get up, must relieve yourself, must shower, must dress, and you must eat. Or you will not survive. You will die here, swallowed whole by nothingness. No one is here to tell you what to do. No one is coming to your rescue. 

Something different. Routine is a consistent companion until it is your cage.

A break. You convince yourself you need an unfamiliar happening to overwhelm your senses. An affair to shock you back to your feeble bubble of fleeting stability. A change in scenery.

You find yourself in a hysteric pace around that front door. There is nothing to lose at this point. No one here to witness if you fail. Everyone’s words run through you.

There is no rush.

But there is. You are already behind. This house is running out of oxygen. You are already rotting here. This habit will soon blur into home. 

You take a deep breath and turn the knob. Not daring to chart with eyesight first, you fling yourself through that open door as if at any moment you might be sucked back inside. 

The air enwraps you, brisk and cool. The undeniable fragrance of a distinct autumn breeze interrupts its commute, reminding you of how miserable you’ve been without it. Your sight is allured by your new porcelain shade in the sun; you have prodigiously neglected your melanin to a pallid skin tone you’ve never worn before. 

You propel forward, telling yourself to just keep moving. You secure your place at the end of the extensive driveway and unwisely decide you can make it down the sidewalk.

You should know better than to think you could outsmart panic without strategy. You feel storm clouds roll in thick all around you; and wherever there’s rain, thunder is sure to follow.

Suddenly the boundless reaches of the stratosphere isn’t enough to save you from the suffocation of the world crumbling fast around you. You pivot until you’re barreling back down the path you came. You almost lunge through the door and lock yourself back inside.

You gait about the living room performing your breathing and self-soothing exercises. All children’s play in the wake of your hijacking terror. You eventually catch your breath but the tremors bond with you. 

Whatever was eating at you earlier was only amplified by your brief spontaneous journey outside of the house. But you had foolishly led the demon inside with you, it is now clawing at the walls and howling throughout the halls. 

You search for sleeping pills having no hope to rest organically tonight, accepting their necessity to your survival. You only look at your bed before deciding it's not even worth the noble fit of tossing and turning. You make sure you are ready for bed before scurrying into Jake’s room and crawling under his sheets. Yet you still can’t shake the feeling of a lurking apparition. 

However, the ingested medication now emanating throughout your bloodstream is impervious to your stalking condemnation. You anchor your antidote to the soothing aroma of Jake present in his bedsheets as you are shoved into void. 

You recognize the alley as soon as you are there. Beads of frigid rain pelt against your pink achy skin. The crying sky creates a misty halo against neon lights and coats everything it dances upon with a bleary gloss.

You are pinned against the wall in an instant by that vicious and nauseating smile. You try to fight but all at once you are being poked and prodded and beaten into an involuntary submission. Until your rescuer arrives.

Too enervated to attempt escape as your oppressor is distracted, Jake lunges forward. Yet he never makes contact before he falls to the ground, a dark red dye seeping from his center into his clothes. You somehow escape your attacker to see him wielding a blade.

You run to where Jake is withering away on the glittering asphalt. You attempt to cradle him, but he hisses at your touch. 

Despite his wounds, he is the one to console you, telling you you’re perfect like he always does. Your only power remains in a helpless squeeze of his hand as he pours out onto the slick black top and you see his light flicker out. 

 – JAKE –

The headlights of the car illuminate your home sweet home as the chauffeur pulls up the driveway. The incline of the path almost causes light to leak into her bedroom window, where you hope she is fast asleep, deep enough that she won’t be bothered by the slight brightness.

You got home two days earlier than expected and you plan on surprising her in the morning. 

God, how you have ached for her, lit yourself on fire for her; all to let it sift through your grasp over some drunken slurs. You wanted her to have space, but hope tomorrow will hold mercy for you as you can’t restrain yourself any longer. 

The driver reaches the house and Josh and you exhaustedly crawl out of the vehicle. You retrieve your luggage before sluggishly dragging it and yourselves to the front door. You swear you grow weary with each second of jangling keys as Josh absentmindedly sifts through each metal shard; standing helpless till he feels the right shape in his hand. The click of the lock barely registers as you are greeted by the cool A/C of the foyer and the smell of home. 

All vitality spent on your journey, neither of you has spoken a word since you landed. As you start to head your separate ways, you bid each other goodnight through a silent nod. 

Only for it to be ambushed by her petrifying heart-grating scream, “JAKE?! JAKE?!” 

One might only assume you’re prey to predators the way you instinctively soar to the stairs, up to your level, and towards her room. Without a word, you hear Josh’s footsteps apace behind you. 

You almost slam into her door moving so fast. You swing it wide open, mouth agape as she is nowhere in sight. Your heart pounds in your temples as panic now starts to clamp tight around your chest. The only other time you recall this measure of a corrosive dread being the night you couldn’t find her anywhere at that party. 

“JAKE?!”

Another scream immediately reveals her location to you. You dart out of her room, down the hall, and into yours.

There she is. Under the warm glow of your salt lamp-lit room, wrapped in your covers, leaking eyes scrunched shut, a lump of muffled indiscernible murmurs and whimpers, and visibly shaking. 

“I think she is just having a nightmare,” you authoritatively order Josh out of the room, “I’m going to wake her, but you should go, I don’t want to overwhelm her.”  

You pad towards the bed and caress whatever limb you contact first, buried underneath your blankets. Gently, you begin to coo her to consciousness.

She springs to life, petrified by your unrecognizable silhouette under the poor lighting and only just emerged from her dream state. Clumsily, she slips off the bed and tumbles to the floor, disoriented and gasping for air.

The thud from her spilled limbs on the hardwood floor nearly syncs with yours, as your knees plunge to the cold surface the moment you register her fall.

You place your palms visibly out to her, indicating her safety, “Hey- It’s me. It's Jake. I’m home.”

“No- Jake- you- he- he’s gone,” she bewilderedly sobs out almost in a question. 

You aren’t sure if she is referring to your trip or something she saw in her dream and is convinced is reality.

You keep trying to rip her from whatever hallucination has its jaws around her, “No, baby, you're safe. You’re home with me, in Nashville. I got in early.” 

She finally seems to digest your words, her glassy eyes [partially] pacified by your newly registered presence before whispering your identification, “Jake?”

When it comes to her, your first instinct is always a consoling touch, but you have learned an unsolicited embrace only runs her further from your protection. However, you have to try. 

“Yes, babygirl,” you reassure before you approach, not wanting to spook her, “can I come near you?”

You’re astounded when she only responds by leaping into your lap and wrapping herself around your torso. 

Within an instant, your arms have gratefully found their seal around her waist. Your calloused fingertips ever so slightly sink into her buzzing flesh, wrestling with every muscle, willing yourself not to tear her apart. How have you starved for the shape of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her very skin. Fuck- to finally hold her again feels so fucking good. 

“Jake- this time- and- he got you- then you-,” she fights through stuttering breaths.

“Hey, no more of that,” you gently assert to sedate whatever terroristic figments are plaguing her in your arms, “I’m here now. I've got you.”

Still trembling, she nuzzles her face into your neck and hysterically rasps out, “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t- Jacob, I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t take it!”

You have no idea as to what she saw in her nightmare, only that you have never seen one leave her this rattled. You can feel her at war with her own breath as her panic continues to steal it from her.

A trick from the therapist resurfaces and you take the dips of her waist within your firm grasp to briefly withdraw her from your embrace, “Hey, I’ve got you, but I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what I’m saying, okay?”

You don’t wait for her to respond before taking her hand and running it across the material of your blue corduroy jacket, “You feel that? It's your favorite jacket of mine, the one you always steal when we go for a drive.”

You ever so slightly draw yourself back in closer to her, “I need you to take a deep breath. Smell that? It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday?”

She concentrates on her inhalation, occupied with taking an exaggerated breath. She slowly begins to nod.

You can see the sensory stimulation starting to ground her so you attempt to redirect her focus, “And what did I promise? I need to hear you say it.”

She takes a long shaky breath, “You- You said no more leaving. You promised.”

You place her jaw safely within the shelter of your palm and press your forehead to hers; without warning, you’re captivated by a time of exigency to live off the same breath as her.

“That’s right, and I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again,” you vow.

You scoop her back into your arms and off the floor. She clings to you as you turn off the lamp and cradle her back into the fortress of your bed, curling up around her for safekeeping. 

You caress and console and coo until finally, her quaking stops and breathing evens out as she is welcomed back to slumber. The rhythmic rising and falling of her rib cage underneath your touch lulls you into your own dormancy. 

the last scene cut off (x)

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[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Congratulations to our winners!

Thank you to everyone who submitted characters, wrote propaganda, and voted in these polls! The past four months have been loads of fun for me, and I hope they have been for you as well.

I have one more two-round bracket planned, which will start tomorrow, and after that I have a couple of bonus polls to post, and other than that the blog will be pretty quiet until next September. I will, of course, continue to reblog other polls that feature podcast characters, so please send any you find my way! If you really like my polls, you can follow my other tournament blog @best-shapes.

The 2024 Sexiest Podcast Character Bracket is currently under construction.

Main Tournament Masterposts:

Preliminaries. Round 1. Round 2. Round 3. Round 4. Round 5. Round 6. Round 7. Round 8.

Bonus Bracket Masterposts:

Round 1. Round 2. Round 3. Round 4.

AI Bracket Masterposts:

Preliminary. Round 1. Round 2. Round 3. Round 4. Round 5.

Bonus Polls:

Warren Kepler vs Elias Bouchard (sexy).

Jonathan Sims vs David Ward vs Khoshekh (pathetic wet cat of a man).

Sans vs Dᴇᴀᴛʜ vs Dyre Owed (fuck marry kill).

Warren Kepler vs Elias Bouchard (punch).

Glenn Close vs Jodie Foster (sexy).

Isabel Lovelace vs Glenn Close vs Dr. Carlos "the Scientist" Dave Robles (sexy).

Isabel Lovelace vs Dr. Carlos Dave Robles vs Glenn Close vs Cecil Gershwin Palmer vs John Doe/The Entity vs Carlos the Scientist (sexy).

Immortal Doll vs Nikola Orsinov vs Persnickety Pete (puppets).

Elias Bouchard vs Marcus Cutter (boss).

Non-Person Concepts (sexy).

April Fool's Day, 24 hours (boopable).

The Ruby Seven vs Odyssey-San (sexy).

Mod's AIs (best).

Arthur Lester vs Doug Eiffel (parent).

ACAB (sheriff).

Adaptations Polls (there's four of them).

Miscellaneous Polls

Statistics:

Main Tournament Part 1. Main Tournament Part 2. General Statistics Tag.

FictionPodSexyPerson's Bracket

Round 5. Round 6.

1st Place: Carlos the Scientist. 2nd Place: Cecil Palmer. 3rd Place: Lup.