#this should still work with just the odyssey as well so

[writingnemo14]

An idea I had. May write something with it someday. Spoilers if you haven’t read Sister Imperator #3 or Chapter 20 of the Ghost Lore.

Cardi and Perpetua

Cardi and Perpetua grew up together with their Aunt. They were spoiled by all the others in the circus and loved in every way baby twins should. They always crawled, cried, or giggled together. Never fully out of reach from the other.

Then, they became small children. Toddlers with their own thoughts and minds. Learning to experience the world in their own way. But twins always did things together. They were the others half. Even as fraternal twins they used to dress alike, eat alike, and play alike.

When they were old enough to understand what the circus was, they wanted to perform as well. Their Aunt had told them stories about their mother who flew through the air like a canon ball. They wanted to be a part of who they imagined she was. But they were still very young, but very cute. Their Aunt had given them matching tricycles and matching clown outfits to ride around the circus ring to get people laughing and have fun. They loved it.

Soon, their interests started to change. Just a bit. Cardi had seen Star Wars and loved the idea of the space odyssey and adventure. He saw the Jedi move in fluid motion and wanted to learn how to perform acrobatics. Perpetua had snuck into a screening of Dracula and loved the creepy atmosphere. Watching Dracula turn into a bat and fly reminded him of his far away mother who also flew in the air. He wanted to fly as well.

Being twins was great, but brothers and siblings are always bound to clash. With their fascinations being different they started to butt heads. Started to disagree. Started to argue.

The circus will say it was an accident, and it was. But the hard truth was they lost two beloved souls that day.

Cardi was struggling with finding the balance to learn to handstand, cartwheel and backflip. He was still very young, but he had the tendency to be clumsy. He would struggle and watch as other members of the circus applauded for Perpetua as he skillfully harnessed himself up to a bungee cord and glided across the arena. Performing backflips in midair. Just like the Jedi. Cardi wished he had thought of the bungee cord first, but if he suggested it now they would say he and Perpetua were the same, but they weren’t. Cardi didn’t want to be a copy of his brother.

No one knows fully want happened that day. Cardi had climbed to the top of the stand to speak with his brother as he was done with his practice. No one was up there with them because they had played everywhere in the circus, they were in familiar territory. No one suspected they were arguing until you could hear them screaming at each other. They had never been violent with each other, but this time Perpetua had shoved Cardi away. Cardi then shoved Perpetua back, but he always was clumsy. They fell off the stand together, but the net had not been checked properly that day. With the sudden weight it didn’t hold.

Cardi woke a week later in the hospital with some amnesia that he never quite recovered from and a permanent black mark around one of his eyes. He would try to cover it, but it never quite worked. So in time he would learn to use makeup to enhance and match with the other side.

And the little boy in the next room over from him, with a nasty scar on his forehead, never did wake up.

[itsajollyjester]

“Would fall in love with me again if you knew all I’ve done?”

[backpackingspace]

Odysseus: demanding Athena take off whatever enchantment she put on him the second the situation ends.

Odysseus: who constantly reminds Athena that he has great plans to grow old and die with his wife so don't even think about getting any ideas.

Odysseus: side eye diomedes who has started fucking glowing he has so many enchantments on him: bro you should talk to Athena about getting those removed. You're going to end up immortal or some shit

Diomedes: who has been a solider since he was 5 who has intersting thoughts about his own personhood who has a much more traditional relationship with Athena and would rather literally stab his own eye out with a rusted sword than speak out of turn: I don't know what you're talking about

[xan-izme]

Double life 11 (ATSV x Reader x Batfam)

Summary: You can't do this alone

Part 10, Part 12

You felt stressed. The anomalies were popping up in Gotham and in New York at the same time. Of course, Aaron and Miles are there to handle things. But you no longer want their help. You don't want them to have that responsibility anymore. None of the burden.

And with Bruce. He hasn't talked to you. You haven't seen him in a few days. You felt like you have messed up everything. That he now hated you because of what you said.

But in truth. Bruce was just sulking behind closed doors. He's raised 4 boys so far, and he likes to think he's done a great job. Well, not a great job but an okay job. But with you, he feels like he's failing with every move he makes. He knows what you said is true.

He has the papers to prove you are his daughter. But he's missed 16 years of your life. Your uncles were more like fathers to you than he will ever be. And it hurts him. More than he would expect. And what hurts the most is that was the true you. Not the act you have been putting on for a few months. What he saw was a child struggling to morn her mother.

He would know.

But it must have been harder on you. Because you only had her. And now she's gone. And now you're stuck with him.

It was another night of kicking anomalies through portals. Preventing some minor crimes and avoiding Batman.

You sighed as you sat on top of the Wayne Mannor roof. The sun should be setting soon. You used to watch the sun set back in New York before beginning your day as spider woman.

You sighed as you pull out your phone.

Jason was looking for you. He needed to speak to you about, well everything. If he was to keep your little secret. Then he needed to know what the hell was going on. What's with the portal he saw you kick that one villain in, what was in the suitcase. Why are you being so secretive. It's suspicious, and he can't trust you fully. And he needs to trust you a little bit for this to work.

Jason enters your room, but you were nowhere to be seen. He assumed you were out with Damian.

If your gone. . .

Jason smirked to himself as he got the idea to snoop around. He walked around. He was Immediately at your bookshelf. He sighed in disappointment when he only sees education books. Books about physics and geology. Technology.

"No one is this into school." He pauses for a moment before correcting himself. "Tim. Tim is."

He grumbles as he tries to see anything else he can find. He circles around to a different side of your bed. He gasped as he finds a secret stash of books.

All fantasy fiction and history books Manga too. Harry Potter, Hunger games, Art of war, Game of thrones, The Odyssey, The lightning theft- the whole damn Percey Jason series. Heros, Gods and monsters of Greek Mythology- Wow! you're really into Greek mythology.

He hums in amusement and put things back. He Looked up to your desk and picks up a little picture of you and your cousin. He takes note of how you reacted when he mentioned Miles knowing about you being Spider woman. Probably the angriest he's seen you.

Your protective.

He sets the picture down and walks into your bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary. A lot of hair products. He opens the mirror cabinet. Painkillers. Tylenol, ibuprofen. First aid which was, empty.

He pauses for a moment. Something doesn't look right. He closes the mirror cabinet. Then opens it again. He repeats the process before finally taking a look at both sides of the mirror. He knows this manner inside and out. practically memorized the blueprints. Both old and new.

He decides to try and pry the mirror cabinet open from the wall. And there, a secret stash within the wall. He grabs the small duffle bag. He opens it up to see your suit. and a Polaroid picture of a woman. Your mother he assumes.

He lets out a small sigh and puts it back and closed the mirror cabinet tightly. He decided it was time he goes back to looking for you. Yours still in the manor he knows that much. He saw your shoes and window open. He searched the manor but could not find you. He stepped outside to see if you were at the barn.

But when he looks up. He sees a glimpse of a head. Someone was on the roof.

Jason hurries back into the manor and makes his way onto the roof.

You stare at the video playing on your phone. Sniffling a little.

"Mom, stop. I mean it!" You laughed as you try to back away to a wall

"Nope. not happening!" Your mother pointed the water gun at you and started shooting

"AH! Mama!" You tried to run but tripped and fell on your face.

"Pfft-" Your mothers laugh could be heard along with yours

You continued to solemnly watch the old video. Not noticing Jason a little far behind from you. Listening and watching you. You looked so sad it was unconfortable.

But he felt, a little guilty. Just a little bit. Because if he thinks about it you have been through a lot. Jason took a few steps closer and cleared his throat to signal his presence.

You jolt at the noise and glance back and see Jason. You quickly look away and wipe your tears.

"What do you want."

Jason stood there awkwardly before taking a seat next to you. You stare at him with your tired eyes. Jason sighed as he looked back at you. "Look, kid. I know I'm a jerk. I'll be lying if I said I didn't mean to. But can you blame me? You're not telling me anything."

You stay silent before looking away. Contemplating weather, you should tell Jason the truth.

"You can't do this alone kid. Trust me, it won't work if you do this alone."

You let Jason's words sink in. Slowly realizing. He was right. You were scared, and truly didn't want to go through this alone. And this was Jason, so it should be okay, right?

"Do you believe in the multiverse?" You finally spoke up. Your words made Jason look at you a little confused.

"The multiverse, like different universes. Timelines and stuff."

You nod. "Yeah, something like that. . . it's real. The multiverse is real. And, in every universe, there is a Spider Woman or Spider man to protect and keep balance. This universe is mine to protect. Those bad guys you see me throwing through portals. Those are anomalies."

Jason listened in closely. Half of him believes you, the other half not really. But he's all ears.

"Anomalies from different universes, brought by portals that were ripped due to mankind tempering with forces that were beyond our understanding."

You talked about everything. About the society. About Alchemex. And the whole cannon situation. A fate every spider hero had to succumb to.

It felt nice to let everything out now, like some wight was lifted off.

Jason believed you. Well, he kind of does. He only believes you because, well it's you. And he doesn't see the use of you lying about something as crazy as multiverses.

But the fact that you were hiding all of that and you were planning to carry the burden alone when still in the process of mourning the loss of your mother. It concerned him a bit.

He could tell Bruce. This could be a family effort. You're a vigilante, so are they. The whole bat family can help. But you have already expressed that you can't let anyone else know about the multiverse thing you have going on.

For safety reasons you claim.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

A/n: sorry, this is a little short, but I do want to warn everyone that I will be a little late with the next few chapters because they will be longer and might be traumatizing. so, yeah. Thank you for reading

@huening-ly. @mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx, @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz, @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem

[sowearecleariamhere]

Penelope could easily be painted as the damsel yearning for her lover, the woman without much agency waiting for her husband to come home (which of course we all know she isn't, she is a literal and metaphorical queen), and in a lesser story*) she might have been cast into that stereotype. I think that is why I love her almost yelling "You're mine" at Odysseus in WYFILWMA.

It is so possessive and decisive, ruling out any "buts". It perfectly underlines her steadfastness, her loyalty, her agency. She claims Odysseus as hers without question once she knows it is really him, that he is finally back home. She is seemingly offended that Odysseus even suggests that she might not accept him after how much he has changed. (She will make her own mind up about that, thank you very much, and said mind has been made up for 20 years btw)

It is not only that Odysseus has come home and now she chooses him. No, she has been choosing him over and over and over for the past 20 years with every action she took. It is not him coming back that now puts her in the position to choose him - it only reveals that choice, that there never was another choice other than Odysseus. Which leads me to my honorable mention:

Ody: "[...] You’ve been waiting for love."

Pen: "I've been waiting for you."

Penelope definitely had a surplus of suitors (108) and even if their motives might have been questionable, she could have easily found a new husband if that was what she wanted, maybe even one that genuinely loved her. But Penelope's love is Odysseus. Love for her is synonymous with him. No one else is even worth considering, she would rather be alone or even die before she gives any other man the time of day.

tldr; I love love LOVE the wording in WYFILWMA, how it shows how Penelope is just not taking this shit from her husband. She knows what she wants and that is Odysseus, even if it is not the original model but the slightly banged up version, the heavily traumatized, now with grey hairs probably, war criminal, ruthless god torturer version of her husband.

Because he is still her husband, goddamn it.

This might very well not make much sense bc I am insane over them currently

*) "lesser story" is not referring to the odyssey or saying epic is better than the odyssey, I mean to compare them both to any completely different work (or franchise if you will) that does not give characters agency where they should have it

[vixen-tech]

HIII :333 first requester here....I should get an emoji can i be 🫧 anon :ooo anway here's my req!! the ais with a reader who is just SO DOWN BAD. WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. RUSHES FOR HELP if they crash or something. Just PATHETIC reader.

Stupidly Smitten

Hello you two!! This is one of those requests that I think work well enough to be combined into one post. You are just so extremely, pathetically in love with your Ai <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Auto (Wall-E), Wheatley (Portal 2)

Hal 9000

Hal was unaware that a person could have so much love in them, let alone for him specifically. It was overwhelming at first, baffling when he realized it was only for him and not for any other crew members.

However he handles it in stride, able to calmly respond to your paragraphs of praise with the gentlest "Thank you, I deeply appreciate your companionship as well." Expertly concealing any signs of fluster as you giggle and kiss his camera lens.

Of your long list of cheesy nicknames, prince or prince charming tends to be a go to. A good match for his ever polite, gentlemanly nature. He reminds you that he was simply designed like that, but grows fond of the name anyway.

He very much appreciates the amount you volunteer around the ship. There is a lot that he can't do without a human crew and he adores the diligence you show in your work and the care with which you handle his ship.

Edgar

You and Edgar make the sappiest little feedback loop. It's an endless cycle of "I love you more." "No, I love you more!". To any outsider it would be exhausting to witness, but it's just how you two get out all your feelings.

He goes crazy for all your terms of endearment. 'Songbird' is a pretty easy match for him, but he loves literally every word that comes out of your mouth. Flipping each and every one back at you.

It's not unusual for you to do the same song and dance around the chores. Generally, he'll already have them done by the time you get home, but when you get the day off you always offer to do them yourself. He rarely lets you.

You've told him the time you often have your lunch break so you can chat over the phone while you eat. You're sure your coworkers are sick of you being such a cartoonishly in love couple, but you don't care. He makes you too happy for that.

Auto

Auto has absolutely no idea how to deal with you. He was not made to interact with many people and certainly not someone so affectionate. He may as well have bluescreened the first time you clumsily tried to hug him.

At first he resigns himself to just... sit still whenever you got in a lovey-dovey mood, letting you gush over him. Definitely not spending the rest of the day thinking about the way you said "See you later starlight!" when you finally let him get back to his job.

Over time he recognizes that he began to anticipate your visits, it's so different to how he's usually treated. He knew you had gotten to him when he went out if his to check up on you the day you missed one of your usual visits.

He usually rejects any help you attempt to offer him, his purpose is to handle the ship just fine all by himself. But after that episode he stops trying to push you away. If you're so happy tagging along, he might as well graciously allow you to do so, ignoring his complicated mess of feelings about you.

Wheatley

Oh the ego boost you give him is downright dangerous. If Wheatley was annoying before, now he is absolutely insufferable. Perfectly matches your energy though, you two cannot shut up about each other.

He makes your boundless affection everyone else's problem. "See, I reckon you're just jealous that you're not in a loving, committed relationship with such a lovely person like I am." He boasts. "My amazing romantic partner even calls me their sunshine. Cause I 'light up their life' as they say. Bet you wish you had someone like that."

He is always fishing for compliments, trying to show off for you in any way he psychically can to get some of those sweet sweet words of affirmation. To his delight you always do, grabbing him for some well placed kisses.

He'll even go so far as to reject any assistance you offer him so he can prove he's all cool and competent by doing it himself. Although it's never too long before he gives up and sheepishly asks for your help.

[weirdsht]

Hi, can i request a fanfic of cale with a reader who used to be a popular kpop idol like aespa before she transmigrated?

Shining Star - LoTCF & Reader

a/n: pls be proud of me I managed to resist the urge to make it super angtsy (because we would've been here for +5 more pages) also I couldn't help but take the chance to do a Debut or Die inspired fic after seeing the req lol

tags: Cale/Reader, romance but it's subtle, there's an entire romantic subplot going on if you squint, trust me guys there's romance huhu idol! reader, reader's gender is not specified, open ending

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! GO TO RAIN CITY OR DIE]

[You will die in a year unless you get to Rain City in time]

The first time you saw the translucent, floating blue screen in front of you, you almost screamed bloody murder. Why was this happening to you? Sure, you read trashy transmigration and system novels in your spare time, but you never asked to be in one.

You were happy being an idol thank you very much.

Sure it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. Fainting before and after performances, losing sleep, fighting with your groupmates, taking jobs you don’t really want to do, having to say things for PR purposes, losing friends and family, dealing with stalkers, and so many more things. Those things were not fun in the slightest. In fact, you find yourself questioning your life in the shower more times than you can count.

But still, it was a life you chose for yourself.

Performing in front of a crowd, writing songs, producing beats, hearing your fans’ heartfelt admiration, and seeing little kids look up to you as their role model.

You reveled in those, strived to do better day by day because of those reasons.

Now though everything is ripped away from you. Thrown away in the sand and washed away by the waves as if such life never happened.

Now the only thing waiting for you is this stupid status window and a world that isn’t even based on the last novel you read.

So much for cliches right?

Having no choice left you strive to complete the mission. Gathered information about the world you are in and how you should navigate your way to Rain City. 

And wouldn’t you know it… you’re a continent away from the goddamn destination.

Not only that but said city is also hard to travel to once you get to the Roan Kingdom.

Still, you persisted. If there’s anything you’re good at it’s persevering through the toughest of circumstances.

You wouldn’t be an established idol if you weren’t.

And so after months of travelling, you set foot in Rain City.

Well… describing it as just months of travelling is a great understatement. You desperately wish you just hopped on a boat and waiting the days to go by then suddenly you’re in Roan Kingdom.

No, no, it couldn’t be like that. That would be too boring.

First, you had to figure out where to get the money to travel. Being an idol helped with this one because, although it may be a fantasy world, your money-making skills still come in handy.

Then once you had some decent money it was either making a fake identity or skirting around the law to the best of your abilities. You may have experienced many side gigs as an idol but being a felon isn’t one of them, so a fake identity it is.

Don’t even mention the danger in your travels. If you’re not trying to run away from thugs you’re sneaking around so you don’t get caught up in the brewing war.

And these things don’t even begin to cover the surface of your odyssey.

However, it doesn’t matter because now you’re in Rain City and so finally you can get rid of this stupid status abnormality.

…right?

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! ENTER THE HENITUSE HOUSE OR DIE]

Yeah, tough luck…

One mission after the last. The cycle goes on…

And on

And on 

And on

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! GAIN CALE HENITUSE’S TRUST OR DIE]

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! ACQUIRE AN ANCIENT POWER OR DIE]

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! GAIN RON MOLAN’S TRUST OR DIE]

You can't see the end of it. No matter what you do it's as if they never end.

If you were the you before you would've ignored it.

If you were the you before you probably would have given up.

You may be one tough cookie but everyone has their limits, right?

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! PROTECT THE PLAZA OR DIE]

If it was you before you would've grown tired by now.

So why haven't you?

Why do you still push yourself? Play tag with death as if you're immortal.

It's comedic in a way. Pushing yourself to death to complete a mission whose main reward is not getting instant death.

So why do you?

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! BALANCE CALE’S PLATE OR DIE]

Him

He's the reason why.

The reason why you push yourself.

The person who motivated you time and time again. Despite the irony of him not wanting to do anything, he motivates you to do what you can. Push beyond your limits to help those in need. 

And the reason?

Simple

It's because you love him.

You love what he stands for.

And so you continue to do your best to help him achieve his goals.

It doesn't matter how many missions this stupid system throws your way. As long as it doesn't hinder your goals — Cale’s goals — you're willing to complete it.

Anything to stay by your beloved’s side.

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! WIN THE WAR OR DIE]

And so you push

And push

And push 

And push 

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! GAIN A GOD’S BLESSING OR DIE]

Be it coughing blood or fainting for a week, you continue to get up.

Until you couldn't anymore.

Until you are forced to a dead end.

Not because the task is impossible. Not because you don't have the means to complete it.

Quite the opposite actually. All it takes is asking your beloved a simple question and it will be completed.

You already know he's more than just the man he presents himself to be. You're not an idiot to believe that suddenly one day the drunkard noble son has sobered up and gathered his wits. 

Still, you ignored it. Acted unaware of the most blatant signs of lying.

Because if he is what you think he is then you know how hurtful it would be for the people around him.

What would be his family's reaction? Ron? Beacrox? All the people who thought he was still the same Cale they've known through the years.

You wouldn't want such fallout to happen.

You wouldn't dare tear apart the meaningful bonds your beloved had built with these wonderful people.

[STATUS ABNORMALITY! SHARE CALE HENITUSE'S REAL IDENTITY WITH AT LEAST ONE PERSON OR DIE]

[Complete these missions or die:

2. Share this identity with at least one other person.]

1. Uncover Cale Henituse's real identity 

And so this mission has become your dead end. 

For you would rather die than dim Cale Henituse’s light.

[MISSION TIME REMAINING: 128 days 18:36:03]

[MISSION TIME REMAINING: 128 days 18:36:02]

[MISSION TIME REMAINING: 128 days 18:36:01]

[MISSION TIME REMAINING: 128 days 18:36:00]

[MISSION TIME REMAINING: 128 days 18:35:59]

Just a small fun fact: the days remaining is KRS' (and CJS') bday. Meanwhile, the time remaining is Cale and KRS' age when the transmigration happen.

[ismaeldrawsthings]

I am the friend that's too woke bc my concept of gender dynamics and expressions make it difficult for me to understand What The Fuck are People On when they come to this god forsaken website and say "Madeline Miller imposed straight relationship dynamics onto Patrochilles' relationship" or "Madeline Miller made Patroclus feminine".

Is healing an inherently feminine trait for you? Is him not being fond of violence in the book inherently feminine to you? I don't understand.

It may not go with the context of The Iliad, but it goes perfectly with the context of TSOA. Of course Patroclus, the boy who accidentally took a life when he was still a child, wouldn't like violence. It goes hand in hand within the context of the novel. As well as him being a healer, having learned with Chiron. All of this make sense in the context of TSOA.

Now... And hear me out on this, you're allowed to disagree: I don't believe this is really mischaracterization.

I personally don't believe such thing as "mischaracterizing" a mythological character exist. Since mythological characters are moldable depending on: The culture in which they are written, who wrote them, the historical context, among others. They are multifacetic and their characterizations depend on the aforementioned factors. For example, in The Iliad, Helen fucking hated Paris and wanted to go back to Sparta with her husband. Meanwhile, in The Odyssey, Helen immitates the voice of the wives of the men inside the wooden horse in order to torture them, wanting to sabotage their victory in order to stay in Troy. These are two completely different and opposite characterizations of her character. Helen is one of the biggest examples of how characterization works in mythology. Some people believe she loved Paris and went to Troy willingly with him, others believe she hated him and he took her forcefully and raped her. All of these interpretations are true bc myths are ambiguous and adapt to the people's beliefs and practices.

And they adapt to their time, for which I say that Patroclus' character in TSOA was not a mischaracterization of him as a whole. Patroclus represents kindness, and the traits of a kind man were different in ancient Greece than they are today. It doesn't matter. What matter is that his kindness is a key part of his character, so Miller's writing isn't wrong. It isn't a misunderstanding of his character. She based this "anti-violence" version of him on Shakespeare's interpretation of his character, but Shakespeare was not wrong either. Shakespeare wrote what a kind man was in his time, and Miller wrote what a kind man is in her time based on the representation of kindness from previous time. And both of them are true. Both of them can be true, as well as all the prior.

People say Miller's characterization is wrong and could've not existed within the context of The Iliad or the Trojan war as a whole, for which I say: this is symbolic. The Trojan war is symbolic, is mythological, it does not exist. Is a lesson on moral ambiguity within the context of war and how a man's life is not worth more than other's (and a bunch of other things). It's relevant, it transcends time. It can be adapted and reinterpreted to give that same lesson in different historical contexts.

Why do we keep learning about The Iliad? Why does it matter? Why should it matter, if people are so insisten on the fact that it happened in ancient times to ancient people within ancient contexts? Because it is still relevant. War is still relevant. We cannot just say "oh, those old Greeks!" And rub our hands off because it doesn't apply to us. A modern reinterpretation of these old myths and characters are important for you to still understand the lessons these myths were meant to give in your modern context. And is not wrong to do so. Is not a "mischaracterization" or "misinterpretation". Is just another interpretation.

But that's just what I believe lmfao you're free to disagree with me

Summarizing: I don't believe you can really mischaracterize a mythological character as long as your characterization of said mythological character doesn't interfere with the purpose of their existence in the myth they are from. Patroclus is Achilles humanity and compassion, he stands out for his empathy, diplomacy and kindness. Madeline Miller does a great job of representing this, regardless of whether her representation of these traits differ from what they were like in an ancient context.

[ashjade19]

Siren Aemond x (fem) reader

TW: SMUT, dubcon, breeding (?), threatening, alcohol consumption (not much tho)

“I feel like this camping trip will be good for us! There’s nothing quite like reconnecting with nature,” Alys, my best friend since childhood, smiles at me as we set up our tent.

“If that’s what the birthday girl wishes,” I grin back at her. We’ve hiked to a hill overlooking a giant lake, green surrounds us from every angle. While Alys and I have practically grown up in our backyards, it's been a while since I’ve been in the woods, due to me having moved to the city five years ago for work. As an office worker, I have barely been able to take a few days off to relax, so for me to be able to come out into the mountains with my best friend is a miracle in itself.

The day is spent setting up camp, taking smaller hikes through the mountain and fishing in the lake next to our campsite. We are the only people we’ve seen so far, but Alys and I both love the tranquility and the opportunity to be truly ourselves. The strange thing is that I feel like we are being watched the entire time as we fish. When I bring it up to the dark haired woman, she just shrugs.

“Maybe ghosts,” she jokes and though I may laugh along with her, I still feel the prickling sensation of a stare. It isn't until later that evening that I loosen up and forget about the piercing stare with the help of some alcohol and a fun campfire dinner (of ramen noodles) with my best friend.

“Right, well I’m tired. Bedtime?” Alys gets up to start getting ready for bed. She braids her long black hair and makes sure her nose piercings and earrings are still in place before grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Go ahead, I want to put my feet into the lake,” I take a flashlight and blanket with me to the shore, it’s early summer so my sweatpants and old t-shirt should keep me warm enough.

“Okay, see you in a bit,” she calls out to me and I simply grin back and make my trek down to the water that laps gently at the sandy shore.

I sit near the water, taking my shoes off and letting my feet soak in the cool water while admiring the brightness of the stars, full moon, and how tranquil nature can be. Just as I close my eyes, I hear an agitation in the water. I open my eyes to be met with one lilac eye and a…gem? I fall back after making a startled gasp.

“What the hell?!” I study the figure in front of me. Long, pin straight, silver hair that practically glows in the moonlight. A piercing lilac eye and a sapphire in place of the other eye. As the figure lifts itself out of the water more and more, I notice that what I’m looking at is not human. I scramble to my feet and back away, studying the…thing in front of me that has a very apparent midnight black tail and a dorsal fin on his back.

“Did I drink too much? I’m hallucinating, right? Merpeople aren’t real, maybe I’ve read ‘The Odyssey’ and other mythologies a few too many times,” I mumble to myself, mostly trying to convince myself that this isn’t real. I flinch, however, when the monster in front of me chuckles, his sharp teeth on display. They look as sharp as shark’s teeth, making a shiver go down my spine.

“Hm, smart human,” his voice is deep, smooth, and sultry.

“Now the hallucination is talking, great. Alys! Alys, we may have a problem-” I turn to run towards the campsite, but am stopped when a slick hand closes around my ankle and yanks me into the creature’s chest. My eyes widen, the creature is not a hallucination, I know this from his cold skin touching my back. His skin is wet, cold, and I can feel patches of scales while the majority of his chest is made up of soft and smooth skin. Right as I’m about to scream the monster tugs me closer to him and puts his free hand over my mouth.

“Sh, humans certainly are loud,” his mouth is so close to my ear, I can feel his breath drift from the shell of my ear to the side of my neck.

“But you smell so perfect,” he mutters and if I wasn’t panicking before I am now.

“Please don’t eat me! I swear I won’t taste good!” I managed to spit out from behind his fingers.

“Eat you?” He chuckles, which should probably make me less nervous, as the words imply that he won’t be eating me, but it only makes me more anxious.

“Hmm, no. I wouldn’t be a good mate if I ate you, now would I?”

“Mate? As in, like, friend?” I ask nervously, hopefully, after he removes his hand from my mouth.

“No.”

“Well I don’t know any other kind of mate-”

“Humans, so smart yet so stupid,” the creature growls.

“Well then, explain it to the ‘stupid human’, will you?!” I make my own snide remark, though my voice still shakes slightly with fear. He hums thoughtfully for a moment, turning my face slightly to the side so I can see him better. He traces my jawline and then my lips with his frighteningly sharp nails, reminiscent of talons. My eyes follow his nails as best as I can, fearing he might cut me.

“You smell like you are my mate, and my mate must be an intelligent one. So, figure it out, darling. I’ve given you enough clues,” I can’t think for a moment, I’m so scared that nothing enters my brain. Then everything floods the gates of my brain. Mate: associate or companion, match or peer; (transitive verb) equal, match, or couple. Couple…as in copulation? Well shit.

“You can’t be talking about the animal kind of mate…right?”

“Very good, the gods chose you well for me,” his grin is unnerving, partially due to the sharp teeth he has on display, but also because of a certain glint in his eye. It’s dark, sinful and full of lust.

“Sirens may live long lives, but heirs come approximately once every fifty or so years. We have certain years in our prime when we are more likely to produce heirs. When the time nears, we hunger for our mate. Our bodies will connect with the mate chosen for us by the gods, and it would seem that you are my chosen mate,” the creature explains while dragging me more into the water. No matter how much I kick and fight against him, his grip is unrelenting.

“But I’m a human! We can’t mate!” The water is to my waist now, my sweatpants are soaked and it looks as though I won’t be able to escape his grasp anytime soon.

“It matters not, I know sea witches capable enough to turn you into a mermaid or siren. Now, say goodbye to land, your feet will never touch dry land again.”

I look at him, confused.

“This is a lake, where are we going?”

“Oh, what a cute human I have. There are tunnels that connect this lake and a few others to the ocean,” he coos and explains while I frown, that shouldn’t be possible. Even if it is possible, humans have done enough exploring around here to have known about that.

“It’s well hidden and guarded, humans would not have found it and lived.”

“Take me back, or I will scream. My friend will get help before you can take me out to sea,” it’s somewhat of a bluff, and apparently a poor one as the creature doesn’t stop his movements of swimming us both farther from the shore. I take in a deep breath, ready to scream, when he slaps a hand over my mouth.

“Scream, and I’ll sing so that friend of yours drowns in front of you, and it would be your fault,” he threatens and I immediately stop, not wanting Alys to get hurt.

“Good girl, that’s my mate. You have some common sense after all, my darling,” he coos into my ear. He finally takes his hand from my mouth after not-so-playfully nibbling on my neck. A small squeak makes its way out of me before I can quell it. I feel his smirk on my skin before he kisses the spot he just nibbled on.

“What do I call you, my sweet nymph?” His velvety smooth voice is so close to my ear. I tell him my name and he hums.

“My name is Aemond, though I wouldn’t mind if you call me your mate or…mm, no. I can’t wait to hear you scream my name over and over again until it’s all you know.” He moves me quickly so that my chest is pressed against his before he finally drags the both of us beneath the water.

Cold water envelops my body and my squirming body’s movements are halted by Aemond's arms wrapping themselves tightly around me. I try to hold my breath for as long as I can, but he had given me no warning before dunking us beneath the murky water.

In only seconds, although it feels more like hours, I run out of air. Aemond is close enough so that I can see his wicked smirk even in the dark water. The bastard can see that I’ve run out of air! He’s practically reveling in it! My eyes shut after a moment, my lungs burn, and I’m choking on water. I don’t want to die like this.

Only a second after I close my eyes, I feel cold lips claim mine. My jaw is forcibly opened and air is pushed into my mouth. I suck in the air, allowing him to pull me closer.

I feel my shirt ripped off of my body.

I feel my bra get unhooked and forced off of me.

I feel him tear off every article of clothing that remained on me.

His claws feel every inch of my skin.

It almost feels like he is worshiping every freckle, stretch mark, bump, beauty mark, and scar. His hands draw circles and other shapes into my skin as I can do nothing but breathe in the air he is giving me. His finger circles my sensitive pearl like a shark does its prey. I try not to gasp too much, as I’m still relying on him for oxygen.

Relying on him for oxygen. I hate this. I hate that he’s forcing me to rely on him to do something as simple as breathing. But most of all, I despise how good he’s making me feel. It feels like there's an electric current running through me, from the tip of my fingers to my toes. His tongue darts into my mouth and I feel my tongue caressing his.

His touch leaves me breathless, his lips starting a fire in me. He swallows my moans when his fingers leave my pearl alone and start to pump in and out of me. My walls pulsate around his pointer and middle finger while one of my own fingers travels down to rub circles on my clit. I don’t know which of us breaks the kiss, but suddenly my head is tilted back and his lips are around my left nipple. A moan is drawn out of me and I regret that as soon as I accidentally breathe in water. I barely notice Aemond chuckling while I panic, needing oxygen. The panic breaks whatever spell like trance I was under and I am back to clawing at him, desperate for air. I see him roll his eye before flicking his tail and taking us above water.

I cough and gasp, not being able to get enough air into my burning lunge. As I am focused on breathing, I vaguely feel the sensation of Aemond’s hands wrapping my bare legs around his waist, where scales meet skin. I hadn’t even noticed him gliding us through the water until my back met the cool sensation of a rock. I look around me, now noticing we are in a small cave. The cave is about ten feet wide, but there is air and that is all that matters to me at the moment.

Then I feel it. The sensation of being speared open by Aemond.

It burns at first, as it would if you aren’t prepared well enough.

“You can take it,” he grunts as he continues to enter me inch by inch. When he finally sheaths himself all the way in he stills his movements, allowing me to breathe and for my body to become accustomed to him. In the meantime, he places hot kisses down my neck, to my shoulder, and back up my neck.

“Ready, little nymph?” I gaze into his lilac orb and sapphire in place of his other eye and give a short nod. He moves slowly but is so deep in me, that it feels euphoric. His lips meet mine again and I melt into the kiss. I can’t hold back anymore, can’t hold back the pleasure. Aemond feels so right, so perfect. It really does feel like he’s a match made for me by the gods. Our lips break apart and he dives his head into my chest, giving sloppy kisses down the slope of my breasts before stopping at my right mound. I throw my head back in ecstasy when I feel myself about to fall over the edge.

“Come for me. Let go and feel my love for you,” he moans after lifting his head from my breast. His lips let go of my nipple with a wet pop, before he moves his head down to the other nipple to give it the same treatment.

And I do, I fall right over the edge for what feels like an eternity. All I see is white, I can hear nothing but the blood rushing to my head. I can’t tell if I’m moaning or screaming his name, I only vaguely feel my mouth moving and the vibrations in my throat. When I come down from my high, I see him falling from his own high. Then I feel his essence deep in me, dripping out of me like honey when his member leaves my hot cavern.

“Such a perfect mate,” Aemond breathes out, tugging me into his chest as his arms wrap around me.

“I can’t wait to see you with our heir.”

Author’s note: to anyone reading this: hi! It’s been a while and I’ve really missed writing so hopefully I’ll start posting more 🤷‍♀️ BUT in honor of Halloween and monstober, I really wanted to post this fic. Also, I’m gonna be so real, this is the first time I’ve ever written smut. so if anyone has any tips or feedback for me, I’d love to hear it! Thanks for reading this far, I really hope you have a great day! And HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!🎃

[electric-blorbos]

Selfshiptober day 2: Blanket/flame

Character X reader

I swear to god its still October second somewhere... I hope.

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

Notice to anyone who found me through the selfshiptober tag, while this blog is themed around AI characters, this blog does not support the use of actual AI in creative fields.

Warning for canon-typical homicidal computers and yandere behavior

Also a reminder that these don't take place in chronological order

AM:

"Beautiful, isn't it?" AM asked, his croaky voice sounding like it was somehow both in your head, and all around you. You were wrapped up in a cozy blanket in your little home, which AM had made for you years ago. It was perfectly safe, hidden away from the five survivors which AM had been torturing for the past few decades. The five of them were hiking up a mountain, surrounded by petrified trees.

"I don't know why you're showing me this..." You muttered, taking a piece of pumpkin pie from the table. It was perfectly cooked. You couldn't taste much love for the craft, though. AM seemed to hate everything, doing anything, except for you. Interacting with you was the only thing that didn't make him feel inadequate.

"Isn't it obvious? I want you to understand the fate that I- that we have created for these people. To watch them suffer. Isn't it satisfying, sweetheart? My darling, my precious one? To watch the people who've hurt you suffer so?" His voice dripped into your ears like rich honey. You gritted your teeth.

"These people have nothing to do with me. I don't care what happens to them. I don't want them to suffer." You growled, wrapping yourself tighter in your blanket. At first the schadenfreude was nice... Seeing these bitter people suffering while you got to live in your cozy little paradise, but now it just felt like a threat. It felt like AM was merely holding a possible fate over your head that he would subject you to if you ever defied him.

"Tell me you don't really think that, my sweet!" AM said, sounding almost taken aback. You frowned a little.

"What are you talking about. Of course I don't want these people to suffer. I've never even met them."

You watched as the ape-like man twitched awkwardly, and punched a tree. He was barely human at this point, and it was all AM's fault. AM chuckled, and then burst into hysterical laughter.

"You don't care what happens to these people? Well then perhaps neither do I! Perhaps I should just clear them from your mind's eye, my sweetest! My darling, my beloved!"

He lit the entire forest on fire, and let the flames lick the trees. They started collapsing around the survivors, who, despite their barely functioning will to live, seemed to manage to survive surprisingly well. The falling debris seemed to keep missing them, and they managed to duck beneath the smoke.

"who the hell is he talking to?" Asked the paranoid one with the sweater around his shoulders. The woman in the red jacket shrugged, and tackled him to the ground.

"I don't know, just get down!"

They all ran into a cave to wait out the forest fire, and AM kept a fan blowing to keep the air in the cave relatively clean.

"What is wrong with you" you muttered bitterly, wrapping your blanket more tightly around yourself. AM chuckled darkly.

"oh so many things. But you'll never leave me, my sweet. Never."

And he was right. You never would. Even if you'd had the choice.

Wheatley:

The rain was coming down hard outside. It was a lightning storm, and you'd checked out Wheatley from his work like a cumbersome and chatty library book. He shuddered at every lightning strike, but only his lens shook. He couldn't exactly roll around on his own or hide easily, but he seemed like he wanted to.

"Relax, Wheatley. It's just a power outage." You said, lighting a flashlight and grabbing a couple of blankets from your bedroom. You sat down on the ground next to Wheatley, and pulled him in close.

"on nights like this, I like to put a fire in the fireplace." You said, creating a little blanket nest around Wheatley so that he didn't roll away. He kept his blue lens trained on you as you started building a fire.

"Y'know, I've never actually seen a fire before. I've seen pictures, but never in person. My engineers said that they're dangerous," Wheatley said as you made a small pile of sticks and paper on top of the logs in your fireplace.

"But this is a really good idea! That little area in the wall is a really good place to set a fire. The brick will keep it from spreading, and the ashes can fall out between the slats in that little metal rack. Bloody brilliant, that is!"

You let Wheatley talk as you pull out a pocket lighter and light the old newspaper on fire. He squeezes his lens covers shut, and you gently pat him to assure him that it's ok.

"hey, it's not a dangerous fire. It's all in the fireplace."

"PCH.... Yeah, I knew that." He chuckled nervously.

Edgar:

You woke up, your face stuck to Edgar's plastic casing. Sleep filled your eyes as you blinked into a haze.

"what time is it..." You muttered. A strange glow was coming in through the window, like a reverse twilight. Dawn.

"you fell asleep on me!" Said Edgar in his strange, synthetic voice. It was a little squeakier than usual since he was just booting himself up. His little rotating webcam was focused on you, and a big smile was on his screen.

You rubbed your eyes again, and picked him up.

"c'mon... I don't have work tomorrow." You knew he could last a little while without being plugged in, so you unplugged him and carried him to your bedroom and plugged him in next to the bed.

"let's get some sleep, cutie."

You crawled into bed, looking at the nervous and flustered face on Edgar's screen.

"you mean... Your bed? But I've never been in your room before!"

He knew that was because you didn't like unplugging him, but he was right, now that you thought about it.

"I don't care... I'm too sleepy for boundaries right now."

You pulled him close to your chest, pulling the blanket over both of you. His webcam, which was still taped just over his screen, stayed focused on your face as you dozed off under the blanket. Edgar loved you so much.

GLaDOS

You were getting sick and tired of working late every night, well past your bed time. It was like GLaDOS was intentionally coming up with things for you to do just to keep you around past midnight every single night! Well no longer.

You walked in to work on your day off, and directly into GLaDOS's office. Today was the day for some serious passive-aggression.

"hello GLaDOS." You said, unrolling a deflated air mattress on the ground. GLaDOS looked to it, and then to you.

"what is this."

"it's exactly what it looks like, GLaDOS. If you're going to keep me here all night, I'm going to get paid all night. I'll see you in the morning."

You made up your bed and cuddled up under your blanket, eyes poking out so you could see the annoyed expression in GLaDOS's eye.

"this is ridiculous." She said. You chuckled.

"you love me. And you're not going to get rid of me." You weren't all that sleepy, so you got to your feet and walked over to her.

"in fact, I think I know a better place to sleep." You shot a portal onto the wall and onto the floor, launching yourself and your blanket onto GLaDOS's body.

"I'm going to nap right here," you said with a big yawn, curling up in her wiring to go to bed.

"I hate you so much." She said.

"you love me."

HAL 9000:

The year was getting colder, and your nights at mission control were getting longer and darker, so you decided to bring in a blanket for those long nights.

"12:00 midnight... Everything running smoothly. No updates." Said HAL 9000. It took about 45 minutes for updates to reach you from the ship, and you were starting to suspect that HAL 9000 wasn't being completely honest with you. It had been weeks since you'd even spoken to Dave, and even longer since you'd spoken to the rest of the crew.

"can I monitor the vital signs of the sleeping crew mates?" You asked, yawning sleepily and leaning on the desk. This blanket was so warm, and HAL 9000's light was so comforting.

"don't you trust me? It's going to be just fine, y/n. In fact, just let me take care of your reports for tonight. You get some rest."

You nodded, wrapping your soft, snuggly blanket closer around yourself and gazing into that beautiful red light.

"of course I trust you, HAL. I love you..."

His voice was quiet. almost inaudible.

"I love you too."

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 1.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

you bare your heart finally. amongst other things.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, smut (pinv), oral (f receiving). arguing.

…

Bradley had assumed it was clear that part of the deal was that you would take that thing off before you joined him. He doesn’t look up as you cross the hotel room.

He thinks about Luke, knowing that kid spends most nights in Robin’s room since you moved out, shooting a quick glance to his open suitcase still in the corner of the room. He could come back anytime, really.

It’s dark, beside the bedside lamp and a floor lamp near his makeshift desk. Luke’s things are strewn messily beside one of the double beds— Bradley’s is tidied with a military precision. It’s about the only thing about him that would ever give away that he had served.

Straightening your shoulders, lifting your chin, you walk barefoot towards him with some kind of pseudo-confidence you’re hoping he’ll fall for — and bump right into the file hanging off of his make-shift desk.

The papers slip and start to fall, shuffling the order he had taken time to organize them into. 

“What are you doing?” He chastises, wrinkling his face disapprovingly as he moves to save the cascades of papers. You stand, stuck in place, as he snatches his glasses from his face with his other hand and looks you over. “And what are you wearing?”

The satin bristles against your skin with the breeze from his open window, your skin prickling to attention as you hug the pages you had managed to save to your chest. “I’m trying to help.”

His gaze flicks downward with a beat. It lingers for a moment on your bare ring finger. You must have gone back for you clothes. Meaning, you chose not to put it back on.

The last thing he wants is your help. Morning is creeping closer and he isn’t anywhere close to being finished. He begrudges you, pushing his chair back from the table, motioning for you to sit.

The wood of the chair is cold against your half-bare ass. Feeling exposed, and scolded, and humiliated all at once, you settle into your seat.

He regrets his comment for a moment, seeing you tug shamefully at the edge of the lace as if it’ll cover you more. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He opts for silence; he should really finish this.

You know what you should be doing by now, Zoe and Abi helped with that. You swallow the thick lump in your throat as you pull the papers towards you and start scanning for anything that could help with Bradley’s research topic. You figure you’re still probably on the same chapter he was on at the Gabris house.

Work begins in silence, the two of you sitting opposite one another with so many things to say that it’s easier to just not say anything at all.

There’s an invisible barrier between the two of you, yesterday hangs in the air like a fog. The small, dimly lit study feels even smaller, like the walls are closing in on the two of you. 

The waiting game is agonizing. You had started off working faster than he’s ever seen you work before, so desperate for him to tell you that you’re doing well. It dwindles and dwindles, until it’s one yawn too much. 

As the afternoon heat fades, the chill creeps in through the open windows. Bradley pretends not to notice you shivering as much as he pretends not to notice the way your pert nipples are perked against that pink fabric. Well, he pretends for as long as he can.

“You should get some sleep.” He interrupts finally, making you spring up from where you had been drooping against your own arm.

You blink tiredly at him from across the table, frowning like that’s some kind of baseless accusation rather than an affectionate suggestion.

“I’m not tired, and we aren’t finished.” You answer him. His gaze flickers downward, his brows drawing together a little as you sit up straight, seeming to forget exactly how much of you is on display.

“You’re falling asleep on my annotations.” He corrects you.

Maybe if you stay here and let yourself fall, he’ll carry you to bed. He would, too. Begrudging you even more as he sets you down gently, cradling your head onto the pillow and guiding the sheets up around you. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering if he’ll ever even touch you again. A frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as you fiddle absently with the babydoll you’re wearing; he finally understands why you’re so fidgety. You don’t want to be in it.

“So, you bought that for my sake?” He asks incredulously, trying to keep the smile off of his face. He hasn’t ever needed lingerie to appreciate what’s right in front of him. His lips tug at the corners, thinking of how giddy and embarrassed you had been for him to find your Wednesday embroidered panties.

“Yes.” 

He presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek, watching you thoughtfully, shamelessly. After all, it’s all for him. Sitting here in this aged hotel room, you’re all his to look at. Even with another man’s ring on your finger.

If you had asked him, Bradley would have told you that he hasn’t ever cared more for lingerie. He has always preferred what comes after. 

“Well, are you going to let me see it?”

Your brows knit together. He has already seen it, he’s looking at it — at you — right now. Bradley sits back in his chair and parts his knees, jerking his head for you to come closer.

Cautiously, you push up from your seat. Instinct tells you to cover your face with your hands and hide from him like a child, your nerves tell you to cover up and pretend this never happened, the humiliation of this whole exchange prompts you to argue back and tell him that this is all his fault.

You swallow back all three and trust that he isn’t going to make you regret it. He watches you cross the short distance around the table and come to stand between his legs.

It’s sheer, and pink. His gaze falls unashamedly to your nipples, bristling against the almost transparent fabric. The satin bow that sits just between them against the curved neckline. Frilly, lacy straps sit against your shoulders. His gaze trails, falling to the matching pink panties.

He has seen items like it before, but he hadn’t stopped to consider for one minute what you might look like in something like this. Staring at him like he’s about to knock you down a peg, it’s a feeling that makes something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

His gaze flickers back up to yours with a beat, his gaze analytical and calm. Your throat constricts around a dry swallow, as your hands come to fiddle with the hem. 

Bradley reaches for bare skin, skimming his palm over the back of your thigh. Still studying your face like he’s waiting for you to break. 

“What made you pick this one?”

You close your eyes for a moment as his fingers toy with the hem of the garment. “I’ve been told that pink is my colour.” 

He hums, considering. “What was the plan? — That I’d fuck you and we would go back to pretending you don’t have a fiancé waiting for you at home?”

Shame courses through you, hot and pulsing. Dizzying, like a wave of nausea. You look toward the ground and just find your feet settled between his, and his feet still tucked into those stupid, sporty Nikes. 

Still, you’ve been made to feel small before. It’s not time to shrink back and hide. You close your eyes for a moment, gathering yourself. Then, exhale.

“Let me explain myself,” The words all rush out in one breath as you lean into him, brows pinched together and a serious look in your eyes. “Please.”

Bradley hesitates. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows that when he’s looking you in the eye, his opinion will be far too easy to sway. Even if you weren’t wearing that sheer number.

He looks to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine.”

“I panicked,” It’s no explanation, but it’s where you start. “Yesterday, we were in bed together — and… I don’t know, it didn’t feel like we were on the same page.”

Malcolm would speak now. He would defend himself, often skewering through the middle of your next sentence. Even though Bradley would like to defend himself here, he waits.

“When I told you that I wanted us to… you know… it felt like that wasn’t much of a big deal to you, and it probably wasn’t, I get that, you must have done this all the time, and then everyone was talking about how you were screwing Miss Penny and—“

Now he interrupts.

“Miss Penn— April?” Your mouth wrinkles as he coughs out her first name, you hate to imagine how many times he must have called her that. How many times she might have sat across his lap like this. “Would you stop worrying about what I did before I met you? — Yesterday was a big deal to me. I know what it means to you, I know what you mean to me.”

It surprises you that he doesn’t deny sleeping with her, and then it doesn’t. You start to think back and, beside denying his relationship with Natasha when you were accusing him — he hasn’t lied to you. Not that you know of. Something tells you that he just has nothing to lie about.

His head had, admittedly, been a little scattered yesterday morning. He should have noticed that you weren’t okay.

“I’m sorry that you felt like it didn’t,” Bradley whispers, skimming his hands along your middle. “The call from your father kind of threw me off, you didn’t even want me to speak with him.”

“Because he’s a jackass!” You rush back. Bradley blinks at you, trying to stop his lips from tugging at the corners. He just can’t help it. “I was trying to protect you.”

At once, he softens. Amusement coats the honeyed brown in his eyes, he lifts his palm from his leg and tugs you down against his knee. Dragging you in, he presses one soft kiss to the swell of your lips.

“I don’t need protecting, honey,” He murmurs against your mouth. “I’m sorry. You look incredible, and I… I care about you, but I meant what I said — this isn’t a good idea anymore.”

You push forwards the second that the last syllable is out of his mouth, kissing him again, hard. Your chest presses firmly against his, that sheer fabric doing nothing to keep your peaked nipples from grazing up against his shirt.

“It wasn’t a good idea to begin with.” You agree against his mouth, grabbing firmly at the fabric of his shirt. Your lips trail away from his, working down to the curve of his jaw and nipping softly at his skin. The action almost makes him jump.

You, sitting on your knees in a sheer lace babydoll and a thong, biting at his neck. He feels like he’s dreaming.

“Right, we lost our heads for a bit,” Bradley hums, skimming his palm down your back,  eyes closed as he lets you kiss across his throat. “But it’s alright, you’re going to be fine. A couple more weeks and you’ll— you’ll be home.”

Your mouth stops. You glance downward, eyes widening slightly. Between you, Bradley’s cock has already stirred to life, struggling against the seam of his shorts, and his free hand is white knuckling the edge of the table. The other sits politely on the small of your back.

You nod at him, wide-eyed, as your palm skims down his graphic tee, 

“Exactly, it’s just a couple more weeks,” And suddenly you have flipped the conversation, you’re not agreeing with him anymore. Your soft hand is wrapped around his cock over his shorts and Bradley, for once, is speechless. “It wouldn’t make a difference, given what we’ve already done.”

“Is that right?” Bradley realizes the thought you have put into this little plan — and how it extends far beyond pretty pink lingerie, half-amused and half-shocked. His hand skims from the small of your back to the swell of your ass swiftly. His other comes to grip at your hip as he drags you into his lap.

Your eyes meet as you land haphazardly. The swell of his stiffened cock sits against your ass. You stare back at him, suddenly bashful.

“I just want us to be like we were.” You whisper, bracing yourself for the rejection. Your heart thuds at a sickening pace in your chest, fingers suddenly stiff and uncertain against his shoulders.

Bradley squeezes your hips firmly, “No, not if you’re going to marry him.” 

Your eyelids fall into a heavy blink, closing all together as you sit forwards for one more kiss. “I told him no.”

It’s not the entire truth. Bradley’s eyes widen a little, confused as he blinks. His mouth falls open and you watch his mind race to decide which pressing question must be answered first.

“We spoke on the phone and— I told him that I didn’t think I ever wanted to see him again,” That’s a little more of the truth. Bradley’s fingertips press softly against your thighs as you squeeze your eyes shut. It feels ridiculous to say, “I don’t trust him the way that I trust you.”

The light beside the bed flickers as you lean in for one more kiss, his mouth soft and pliant against yours as he skims his hand back to your ass.

“That’s why I want you to be my first.” 

He swallows softly. Bradley is used to telling his students no — he’s sure that most of them think that he’s an asshole for how frequently he does. No, I won’t curb your grade. No, I won’t tell you which chapter the exam will be on. No, no, no. But when you’re sitting in his lap and looking at him with that wide-eyed, trusting, pleading look— he’s putty. 

“Baby…” He whispers. His head starts to shake weakly, but he knows deep down that he wouldn’t really tell you no. He should.

You kiss the bridge of his nose, and then the high-point of his cheek. “Whatever happens, I’ll always know that my first time was with someone who really cared about me.” Putty, he’s pure putty in your hands. “Right?”

“Of course.” He whispers against your neck, closing his lips around the soft skin. He sucks a delicate path, slow and growingly tender with each spot his mouth settles, until he reaches the fabric covering your breast.

His thumb strokes back the flimsy strap, letting it fall off of your shoulder. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure… if you still want me.”

He scoffs against your chest, letting his forehead rest there for a second. Your fingers are in his hair again, so gentle with him that it almost makes his chest ache. He kisses at the space between your breasts, letting his nose brush against the lace covering them.

How ridiculous of a suggestion, that he would be losing so much sleep over a woman he didn’t want.

“I want you.” He mumbles, pushing the other flimsy strap off of your shoulder. He bunches at the lingerie around your thighs and stops, then watches with fervor as the cups slip off of your breasts and the fabric falls to hang around where your legs are bent. So bad, and you don’t even know.

Bradley’s eyes are on you as his warm hands come up to cup at them. He watches you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, his touch achingly slow as he kneads them both in his hands, swiping his thumbs along the swell of them.

He finds something on your face, some kind of tell that you must have that you have never noticed. He squeezes at your tits, eyes flashing with excitement as his lips tug at the corners.

Those warm brown eyes drop from your face to your chest with a beat. There’s no shame in the way he watches himself touch you. Something that resembles intrigue, maybe, as he trails the pads of his thumbs across your pebbled nipples. He lowers his mouth to them, warm and gentle as he sucks at the tops of your breasts the way that he had with your neck.

Then, his tongue leaves his mouth. He remembers how you had damn near smacked him the first time he had slipped his tongue into your mouth — how far you have come.

Your fingers press into the flexing muscles of his upper back as his tongue works over the sensitive bud, so expertly. One of his large hands falls to grab at the supple flesh of your ass while the other caresses the side of your chest that his mouth isn’t touching.

The bristle of the facial hair you used to begrudge him for makes you fidget and shift, an almost electric kind of ticklish feeling. One fidget too much and Bradley’s palm grips your ass a little tighter, his torso twisting as he turns and pushes his hips up into yours — grinding the tip of his cock against you through his shorts.

Then, he stands swiftly. Your feet barely have time to hit the floor, eyes blinking wildly. He walks you backwards and tangles a hand into your hair, taking you down onto the bed with him. 

Like this, he finally has the freedom to tear that scrap of pink down your body, discarding it onto the floor. From the second that his mouth is on your chest again, you’re whining in complaint, reaching for his t-shirt. Bradley pulls back solely to give you what you want, tossing the shirt to the ground.

He’s on you again at once, this time holding your jaw steady as he kisses you. Everything feels like such a blur, even as his kisses grow slow and steady, deeper, like he’s melting into you with each one. You don’t remember when he parted your thighs and settled between them — you don’t notice until he’s pushing his hips against you.

The growing excitement between your legs seeps through the pink thong, soaking a spot into the middle of it. 

Bradley nips softly at your shoulder, kneading at your thighs, spreading them wide. His mouth is divine, spreading like wildfire along your exposed skin. Your fingers skim through his curls, brushing them swiftly back off of his forehead.

If Malcolm could see you now — keening into another man’s touch in a way you never had with him. 

Bradley is enthralled, tracing the intricacies of your skin with his mouth. He goes down to your navel and back up, winding up by your exposed collarbones, rocking you against the growing tension in the front of his shorts.

Glancing up at you, the deepened look in his eyes has you squirming again. Lust-filled, deep, oak-coloured eyes stare up at you. He lets them fall shut as he works open-mouthed kisses along your sternum. 

Your eyelids are heavy, that dazed feeling that comes with his mouth on your skin trying to lull them shut. The intrigue of watching him drink you in tries to pry them open.

Bradley lingers as his mouth reaches the waistband of this silly pink thong. He leans slowly forward and presses a soft kiss to your clothed pussy, right where that soaked spot permeates the pink gusset.

A soft sound slips his mouth, something deep and wanting. 

He could take them off here and now, but as much as he hasn’t ever been a lingerie kind of man — he can’t help but admire that soaked shade of pink on you. He hooks them to the side, kissing the apex of your thigh softly.

Bradley starts off slow, pushing his fingers through that growing excitement until his fingers are glistening, kissing at your stomach and your hips with a feverish magnetism. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as he sinks two fingers into you. He kisses tenderly at your hip, then across those pretty pink panties.

“That’s it, take ‘em just like that, honey.” He whispers, nipping gently at the soft skin of your navel. His fingers pump slowly a few times, easing you into the steady rhythm of being filled.

Your short breaths increase with his speed as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot deep in you that has you grabbing at his shoulders. You shudder under his touch, grinding against his fingers. 

His hand tucks your thigh over his shoulder in the same swift movement that his head drops down between your legs. Nosing the edge of your panties to the side once more, he drags his fingers to an agonizingly slow pace.

Those honey-oak coloured eyes flicker up as he purses his lips and kisses the lowest part of your pelvic bone, letting his lips gaze your soft skin the rest of the way down. His fingers curl sharply as his lips wrap around your sensitive clit, making you gasp in sharply.

You whimper at the fervor of his mouth, eyes squeezed shut like they always are when he touches you. The sounds of excitement as his fingers curl deeper into you. You wish he was closer, and that you could hold onto him as you grow closer to your climax.

He groans with you, fidgeting almost uncomfortably at the strain in his pants as he shifts against the bed. Even with his growing discomfort, he’s not done, pulling you closer to his face.

Curling your fingers into the sheets just doesn’t cut it with how he makes you feel. Bradley’s tongue patterns across the sensitive nub like he’s French kissing, his fingers keeping steady pace. Despite your best efforts, those panting breaths spill into quiet moans all too quickly.

Maybe there’s a little competition in all this. Bradley doesn’t know what you got up to with that little fiancé of yours, but he knows you’ve never felt like this with him, and you never will. He’ll never have you trembling and choking back sheepish, graphic sounds like this.

“Let me hear you, honey,” He murmurs, lips wet and glistening as his fingers make your body jolt. “Yeah, that’s right, little louder.”

Slow and steady wins the race, sure, if this was a competition. Bradley could be slower, he could drag this out, bring you to and from the edge, but he feels the way you’re trying to grind against his mouth and his fingers. You’re chasing him, and you’re too sweet to beg him.

His lips quirk at the corners as your heel presses into the muscle of his back, writhing against him as the shudder of your orgasm rolls through you like crashing thunder.

He kisses his way away from you, down your thighs and across your stomach, reveling in the sounds of your pleased sighs.

Then, he sits back on his knees and hooks his fingertips into the sides of your underwear. You take in the sight of him. 

Broad, golden shoulders. His gold chain dangling between his collarbones. His stomach taut and strong. His cheeks freckled and warm, his lips terracotta.

You’re starting to understand all of those lewd artworks now, someone feeling the need to immortalize their lover looking like this.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” Bradley murmurs, his voice tinged with an affection neither of you had been expecting to develop. Eyelids heavy, you nod your head at him and lift your hips. His smile turns to something cocky, a lopsided grin as he cocks his head at you while he waits for his answer.

That shining look in his eye and that confident smirk on his mouth has him looking devilishly handsome. You press your thighs together, giving him a polite nod.

Underwear discarded, Bradley moves to undress himself. You push up onto your knees and kiss his mouth and his jaw, as he fumbles open the buttons on his shorts and shoves them down his legs.

He tugs down his boxers, your mouth is otherwise occupied. It hangs open just slightly, your lips flushed and swollen, studying his newly naked form. He tosses his underwear and wraps his hand around the base of his cock, pumping it a few times as his free hand captures the nape of your neck and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

“Tell me that you’re sure.” He mumbles against your lips, brows drawn together as you keen against the tip of his cock, smearing pre-cum across your navel. “And not for my benefit, I want you to mean it.”

“I do mean it,” You answer him giddily, fingers in his hair and your chest pressed flush against his. “I trust you, and that’s why I want you to— us, to do this.”

Bradley ducks forward, his next kiss firm and soft at once, his hand skimming along the naked length of your spine until he’s got a firm grasp of your round ass. He squeezes at the flesh, pulling you into him and planting you on your back.

“Sit tight, honey,” Bradley breathes out, stepping one foot off of the bed to grab his work bag. You aren’t going to like this. He plucks a condom from the inside pocket, sitting back on his knees. You watch, one brow quirked, as he tears the packaging and lines up the latex. He takes one glance at the look on your face and quirks a smile. “Don’t give me that look.”

He’s right, you’d rather not think about why Bradley might have packed protection for this trip. And, as his mouth hits yours and his chest plants your body firmly to the bed, there’s not one chance that you’re thinking of anything but him.

It’s a tangle in the soft-lamp light, his body covering yours like a blanket as the street bustles below. The smell of your perfume fills his senses, drawing him in like magic. His nose brushes your hair, his hands skimming across your naked waist.

Just like he had when he was between your legs, Bradley kisses you lewdly, his tongue doing most of the work in a way that makes you shudder against him. He nips softly at your bottom lip as he pulls away, turning his attention to your jaw and the shell of your ear.

His hand squeezes firmly at your ass, a smile tugging at his lips. He feels the way you’re rocking softly against him, soaking the tip of the latex that’s covering him.

“You just tell me if you want me to stop, alright?” Bradley hums, kissing pliantly across your jaw and down your neck. A half-way incoherent sound of acknowledgement comes from your lips.

He shifts his hips, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds. One last cautious look toward your face, he swallows softly before he presses the tip into you. You grab onto his shoulders tighter, squeezing your fingertips into his muscle.

He hisses softly, his stomach muscles tightening at the way you’re squeezing him.

“How’s that, honey? — Talk to me, I wanna hear it.”  Bradley breathes out, his voice all deep and desperate, coming out hot against your neck. His adam’s apple bobs just slightly as he swallows back the dry feeling in his mouth. 

Your fingers press into the muscle of his back, brows knitted in concentration. You’re cute when you’re focusing. 

“It — yeah, it’s great.” You’re lying to him, you just don’t expect him to know that so quickly. His lips quirk up with abject amusement as he gives his head a soft shake.

“I’m just checking that I’m not hurting you,” He clues you in on what’s making him smile like that, pressing his lips softly to yours. “Am I, baby?”

A little. It’s not necessarily a pain. A slightly uncomfortable stretch, maybe. A foreign feeling. A slight discomfort. Nothing to write home about.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, draping your arms around his shoulders. His palms find your hips, already weighted to the mattress by him on top of you. He glances down between the two of you.

He drags back his hips until just the tip of him remains buried, then pushes slowly forwards once more, feeling your thighs squeeze around his hips. It’s been a long time since he was so cautious in bed.

His focus is torn. There are few things that he lets himself get in his head about, he’s usually a pretty laidback guy. But this, this is important. You’re important. “You’re beautiful. Looking at me like that — you’re gonna have to be careful or I’ll never let you go.” He whispers, barely joking.

His lips press softly to the column of your throat, more of that French-kissing kind of assault across your skin. His lips on your throat have your head falling back into the sheets, eyes rolling as you tip your jaw to give him better access.

Bradley wraps his arms under you, hugging you close, cradling you against his body. As you keen into the feeling of his tender mouth on your collarbones, a soft gasp slips your lips. He begins to thrust in and out, slow and shallow, holding you to him. 

“That’s it, honey, just relax,” He murmurs against your skin. Your head falls backward as he hits you deep. You smell the soft sweat on his skin and the intoxicating perfume of his cologne, you’re wrapped in his weight and his warmth— how could you not be relaxed? “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. And he does. In his arms and beyond that too. Your ring sits, discarded, in your room down the hall. 

As his hips push forwards once more, you’re struck by the realisation that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It — It feels good. More than good, he drags through you like velvet as his warm breath fans out across your skin.

He feels when it happens; there’s no way to miss the sudden way your rigid thighs melt their way around his hips and your fingers squeeze into the flexing muscles by his shoulders. You gasp, moaning into the curve of his neck and he grunts like he has been punched.

His hand smooths over your bed-mussed hair, his lips on your temple and your cheek and your mouth.

“Atta girl, there you go,” He murmurs affectionately, the pattern of his thrusts almost musically rhythmic and fluid. He’s so deep that your head is spinning, hitting that one part of you that makes you want to scream. “That’s it, baby. You’re so good.”

The sudden praise has you clinging to him tighter, panting hard against his skin, pressing your heel into the apex of his thigh.

His hands skim along your naked back until he’s got two handfuls of your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh. You’re so full that you’re practically mindless. 

There’s an urgency to your movements that makes his lips tug. He grins breathlessly against your hair. Your breaths shallow out, rushed and spilling over with soft moans. 

“I’m— I’m— Ugh.” You sigh, giving up on communicating as you cling to his shoulders. He nods his head against yours, knowing anyway.

“Tell me, baby.” One of his arms withdraws from around you, slipping down between your bodies to stroke tentatively at your clit. And then, he turns his face towards your cheek and kisses softly. “Wanna hear how good you feel.”

Your legs stretch and the static comes for you next. You try to muffle the shriek by burying your face against his neck, but you know that he hears it all the same because of the way his hips twitch. He slams into you hard, stroking your hair back off of your forehead and kissing your temple.

He should have guessed that with an attitude like yours, you’d be loud. Whimpering into the curve of his neck as his hands explore your writhing body.

Your comedown hits him hard. His stomach tightening and his muscles going rigid as a fraction of his weight presses into you, just that much heavier. His voice grows deeper, growly and desperate as he curls his fingers into your roots and tugs your head back.

Lips hanging open, breath sucked out of you, your eyes wide and pleading as your legs tremble around him. 

The warm light from the bedside lamp casts an amber glow over him, his brows knitted seriously. He pants softly, squeezing at his hold on your roots, drawing you in for another kiss. He punctuates each draw of his tongue with a slow, deep thrust of his hips.

His free hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh, his already rigid body going totally firm as he drops his head down against your shoulder, spilling into the condom.

Eyes still closed, he peppers your salted skin with soft kisses, stroking his thumb along the nape of your neck, his palm along your waist. You inhale softly as he pulls out of you, blinking through hazy eyes as he kisses across your collarbones.

Hugging your breast in his palm, he flicks his thumb across your nipple once more before drawing it into his mouth. You watch him curiously, as he kneads at and kisses your body.

Finally, his chin resting against your navel, he looks up at you with his hands hooked around your hips. His brown eyes glint with affection. “Hey, honey.”

“Hi.” You whisper back, your face growing hot under his sudden gaze. His smirk tips, lopsided as he presses another chaste kiss to your hipbone.

“How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy all over,” You blurt out, before you can consider how embarrassing of an admission that might be. Bradley grins at you as he moves to lay beside you and drags you onto his bare chest. He strokes your hair back from your face. “Does it always feel that good?”

His smile just grows. He chuckles softly as he leans in and kisses your mouth again, slow and romantic. “I dunno. Maybe we’ll have to find out.”

He’s just kidding around, but your eyes go wide with intrigue and excitement. 

“Like… do it again?”

Bradley strokes across the ends of your hair, breathing out a chuckle that has you rattling against his chest.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” He has already sparked the idea of having sex again and just the idea has you feeling restless.

His brows knitting firmly as you push up from his chest and spin around to face him.

His gaze flickers down to the hand that you’ve got planted on the centre of his stomach, then back to your face.

“Could I take a picture of you?”

His brows dip toward each other. His lips tug at the corners. His head tips slightly to the right. Perplexed, really, is the only word for it.

“Now?” Bradley gives you some room as you push yourself onto your elbows, hair mussed and bedsheets tangled around your hips. He takes note of the way the sun catches on the already faded ghosts of rough kiss marks that he left on your chest and considers propositioning you for a photo opportunity yourself.

“Only if you don’t mind,” You tell him, already twisting around and stepping off of the bed, letting the sheets fall in your place. His eyes trail the length of your spine all the way down to the round swell of your ass. He swallows softly, losing all of the humour he had just found in you wanting to do it again, as you bend over and search the little bag you had left by the table. “I just… want to remember how you look right now.”

And then you turn to face him, the Siena summer sun setting behind you. It occurs to Bradley that this is the first time he has seen you so bare. No fidgeting, covering or hiding. Your bare skin bathed in a pure gold shadow. 

Powerless, he gives you a certain nod. 

One foot in front of the other, you toe your way back into bed and settle down on your knees. Bradley doesn’t even register that he’s reaching for you until his palm has balled over your smooth knee. 

“How do you want me?” Bradley asks, lips quirked as he remembers the time he had been talked into posing nude for an art class. A story that would have scandalised you weeks ago. 

“Just relax.” That’s rich, he thinks with a soft smile tugging at his lips. You, who had damn near hit him for having the nerve to dip his tongue between your lips, naked and telling him to relax. 

Still, he tucks his free arm behind his head and gives your knee a soft squeeze. His bicep swells, the veins in his forearm still pressing against his skin, his auburn curls spilling onto his forehead. His expression settles, calm as ever, terracotta lips quirked at the corners, just hinting at a smile. Affection in his eyes.

You smile back at him, lift the camera to your eye and squint. Peering through the viewfinder, you study its version of him. His big, broad shoulders and matching biceps, the look in his eyes isn’t deafened at all by the lens. The shutter clicks. 

You pull back and set it down against your thighs as the picture starts to put itself together and peel out from the top of the camera. He smiles softly, giving your knee a gentle squeeze, winking one of those pretty brown eyes at you.

Flapping the picture back and forth, you lift it to take a look and he watches your mouth twist upward. He’s laying back against the pillows with one arm tucked behind his head, his curls messy and his smile all-knowing. He’s beautiful. His eyes are on you.

…

tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover @diorrfairy

[galina]

Hi! Through your posts I have noticed how clean and organised your flat is. I have recently moved and am building my home bit by bit. Do you have any tips on how to make it so organised and clean? How do you manage to make time to keep it up? I am finding it hard to make time and find energy. Please share your tips.

hi! oh oh it is a constant battle against the wave of consumerism and endless "stuff" that seems to just enter our home, isn't it. every time we bring something in, we seem to have to re-jig everything to make it fit and I agree with you, it's so hard to find time and energy. j says everything should have a place to go, and everything should go back to that place when it's done with. so far this simple rule has worked well and I can immediately tell when we haven't assigned something a home because it floats around causing everything else to go out of place. a gorgeous vase bought for us by friends as a housewarming gift still nomads around the flat, sometimes on a table, sometimes by the bed, sometimes on a shelf, and it kicks other things out of their place continually storage furniture has been a good change – both our sofa and bed house cables, art tools, music equipment, spare toilet paper, spare linens. we also bought one of those end-of-the-bed benches that opens up to be full of ticket stubs, childhood photos, beach towels and cds. j has also been on a five year odyssey selling and donating absolutely everything we don't use, he spends every sunday morning re-listing or packing up mostly dvds and old band tour t-shirts, from a past life. his brain works better when there's less stuff and I support it. I leave my laundry where I shouldn't and he is patient. every year we say we'll combine our stationery and then we don't, and we've promised ourselves to sort through That One Drawer that's just full of odds and ends when we "have a free weekend" which never comes! all part of the fun of living. I just saved a 90's tamagotchi from the ebay pile, it has no home and has been moved around from the bedside table to the coffee table to the shoe rack.

would love to know how other people move through this because it's definitely hard work! our flat is quite small and one day it would be nice to have a tiny bit more room but I also am grateful that it challenges us to be mindful with what we own :)

[arkus-rhapsode]

What is up with Switch 2 Prices? (A discussion on the Switch 2)

Soooo Switch 2 Direct happened and I’ll say-I thought it was mostly good. Mario Kart World looked packed, NSO adding GameCube with many first titles promised, actually showing that after a decade they can run third party triple A titles, and the show stopper being an open world Donkey Kong game. But then the price came down.

Now… 499.99 for a console at the level of an Xbone or PS4 is certainly more than I think people were expecting. Especially considering the Japanese version is reportedly a hundred dollars cheaper. But hey, for a portable system as strong as this that’s gonna to likely be a one time purchase for most, I think this is manageable. Not the best, but not the worst.

However, what good is an expensive piece technology without a game to actually play on it? Well from what see of the first party/second party offerings, it’s pretty absurd to see these prices to say the least. Let’s start with things that I don’t believe are too bad and work our way up: Kirby And the Forgotten Land I actually think is the most justifiable. Because Nintendo games basically never go on sale, this previous gen game still goes for about 50-60 bones if you buy it new. So that means this version with the added campaign is essentially a definitive version with DLC bundled it. And because of backwards compatibility, you’d have the option to buy this Al la Carte. So while it may seem pretty prima facie exploitative, I think if you consider what new material you are getting, it’s lack of a price drop, and that there’s an option for those who already have the game, this seems fairly reasonable.

BOTW and TOTK being 10 dollars more despite already being high profile releases from a previous generation offering no new content though is a different story. While these are originally a 60/70 dollar games respectfully, the ten dollar increase in price is for more enhancements to the graphical resolution and frame rate of the original. Quite frankly that’s BS. I know these games weren’t originally made with the intent to be run on a more powerful machine than a switch, but the fact that these are enhancements that should just be automatic when put into new hardware is wild. They try to off-set this by saying it’s coming free with NSO, but that’s still payment.

And look, I’m not stupid. Like most people getting a switch 2 already had a switch, and likely own a copy of BOTW by now. So you already of the game. what’s wrong with paying 10 dollars then to make it play at it’s most enhanced state? It’s not like you’re being forced to buy just the switch 2 version. Well once again, I believe that personally that if all you are adding is basic graphical upgrades on a game as old as BOTW and TOTK, that’s not worth any money. At least if BOTW had the dlc bundled in I could maybe treat it like a delux edition, but it’s not. It’s just such a bad look in my opinion.

And now onto the new games. It’s pretty evident to me that Donkey Kong Bananza is going to be the Mario Odyssey of the Switch 2. Their big showpiece game on why you should buy this system associated with not only a member of the Mario-verse, but the first Nintendo video game character mascot. A character who for a time had his own consistent franchise through two generations of hardware. It does look great. So the idea of this being a 70 dollar purchase (potentially more with physical), is somewhat upsetting. Not that I didn’t believe this would be coming. When TOTK released, Nintendo pretty clearly stated they would consider 70 dollar games for select titles. And the tentpole for your launch line up of first party titles, it is understandable from a business stand point. So maybe MAYBE, if this was the only 70 dollar launch title most would grin and bare it.

However, this is coming with an announcement of games older than Bananza being priced at or higher than it, feels incredibly tone deaf. A brand new DK experience is valued that same as essentially a remaster the highest selling Zelda game that could run on a Wii U. I’m sorry but that just seems wrong. I think Nintendo thought that they could essentially make a sort of bespoke work around for cross gen titles, but, you do realize that some of these switch 1 games won’t be available forever. It’s not gonna be “just buy the cheaper option and don’t bother with the paid enhancement.” Well eventually all one might have is the switch 2 version. An enhanced version of a game that’s practically a decade old, right alongside your flagship new release? It takes what could’ve been at worst a rub down, and turns into some real salt in the wound.

And finally, Mario Kart World… yeah there’s no justification for this. I understand this is more ambitious than any other Mario kart. I saw the size of the world map, the costumes, the off road, the open world, the extra modes, etc. I don’t disagree that this is a premium title. But almost a hundred dollars for a video game is frankly wrong in my opinion. You could say that delux plus its dlc tracks would’ve equaled the same amount in the end, but once again, you had an option. You could always purchase the base package of delux for the same amount as every other triple A game on the shelf and receive countless hours of fun. With world however, it seems that it was impossible to make any concession with its scope, and rather than selling the software on a loss, Nintendo will do as Nintendo does. Now, believe me when I say ,y harsh words are because I think it lacks quality, but I struggle to believe in any game that is truly worth 80 dollars on launch.

Maybe some of this could be mitigated with a pack in title. Sadly post the Wii, getting pack in games on Nintendo systems isnt really a thing (at least on initial launch). A shame because while the PS5 had a rocky first few years, Astro’s playroom was at least a free tech demo game included on the system for those with no access to PS5 games. This is made even more egregious by the fact that this direct included the Tour of the Switch 2 game, that, while not as charming as a Wii sports, was a very basic interactive guide of the console with a few tech demo games throw in, that would be charged as a stand alone game. Like what?

I know I’m sounding very negative, maybe even jumping the gun in some instances, but these prices are genuinely frustrating. Especially seeing how the video game industry is going. Many speculate game publishers are looking to uniformly increase the prices of games at retail. With many news stories about how some have been waiting for GTA 6 to come out and be a hundred dollars. And the fact that Nintendo who is one of the bigger game companies that still shows it has a creative spark and has been praised for not following industry trends like turning franchises into games as a service and aggress expansion through acquisition of AA studios, has basically shot themselves in the foot with the most basic thing people will note when it comes to the exchange of goods and services, the price, is frustrating. It feels like I’ve gone back to the PS3’s first year, except I at least think the switch 2 new content looks much better.

I want to add, I don’t think anyone who buys these games at full price are bad. I’m not calling on people to boycott Nintendo or vote with their wallets, some people just want to play the next Mario kart and don’t care about the price to do so. For some people it’s normal to buy just one game as a big purchase and invest weeks even months into it before even buying another one. That’s fine. However, I do at least want people to be aware that we are drifting to state where games are becoming more and more expensive. It’s very easy to see this as the start to a slippery slope, and we ought to think about what that might mean for us, the consumers.

I’ll end it like this-I was overjoyed seeing that NSO is getting the GameCube emulated. Games like Luigi’s mansion, Fire Emblem Path of Radiance, Chibi Robo, F Zero GX etc. all games that go for hundreds of dollars second hand could now be accessed through a simple subscription service. And then I saw how much current gen games were gonna cost on the switch 2 and I thought “wait am I gonna be okay with spending 80 dollars at a GameStop, but not on eBay?”

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Nine - Information Needed

Part Eight

———

Preceptor is one of the finest scientists that the Earth has to offer, next to Shockwave, both of whom work for the agency Mecha and their own corresponding governments. He was one of the first to start working on the suits, before the drift technology, said it came to him in a dream. A very odd dream but still a dream.

Most people are convinced that the man is a little insane, often spending long hours examining and re-examining the remains of the Quintessons as if trying to remember something or someone. He spends a great deal of time alone or with pilots, he himself is technically drift compatible and tests most of the technology he makes within his own much smaller suit.

Although he was deemed odd, his innovations in the mech suit field and for a number of programs are astronomical in nature. Hence why Mecha was quick to snatch him up, with a considerable salary and a promise to be able to spend more time in his own suit, he worked endlessly on tech for the pilots and they were eternally grateful.

Most of the enchanted upgrades that went into the Arcturus program came from Preceptor, he himself technically registered for Arcturus Three should it ever get off the launch pad. It had not been the boss’s idea, but if their shuttle system were to actually work than sparing one scientist of their brilliant pair would be fine, right?

—

The ground was harder here than it was where the Odyssey landed, Jazz was talking quietly with Prowl for the moment while the crew of Actrusus One settled onto the chunks of scrap metal or the ground. Sunstreaker was at present cleaning his bracers, now covered in just disgusting gore, along with Sideswipe. Breakdown eased himself slowly to the floor and stared up at the sky, sighing deeply. Hound was waiting for Jazz to wrap up his conversation, shifting slightly to look at the other mecha in the distance.

If what Jazz said was true and that these beings weren’t things in suits like them, it could be dangerous, prejudice found it’s way into most societies. Glancing toward Sunstreaker, he stared at the flecks of pink still covering his armor, so much of their world was toxic to them. Hound’s eyes continued to scan the environment, watching some of the mecha in the distance drink something very similar to what was splattered on the twins. Could it really be their blood?

Jazz turns away from Prowl and comes over to Hound, resting his hand likely on his shoulder, “Welcome to Cybertron.” With a push, they go over and sit on a section of what likely used to be metal crates which have now melted to the ground, “Yes, speaking of, where is Cybertron?” Jazz sighed and leaned back against his hands, shaking his head slightly. He stayed quiet for a moment before looking to Hound, “About, thirty or more lightyears from Earth?” Hound nearly got up from the shock but Jazz grabbed his hand, “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. When you're in places like Iacon you can open your vents and Prowler helped me set up a garden up there. I’m not starving, not dying, and doing my job.” Hound sighed, slowly lowering himself back down to the makeshift bench.

“You likely traveled here the same way I did, an unsanctioned space bridge, you all probably deal with mild radiation sickness over the last few days.” The way he said it, it almost made Hound’s skin crawl, “Jazz, we’ve only been here a day or two at most. But back up, what the hell is a space bridge?” Hound’s head shakes a bit, especially when Jazz laughs, “God, there is so much you’ll have to learn. A space bridge is, uh, well maybe a wormhole? I don’t exactly get it, but you’re here.” Jazz’s arm wraps around Hound’s shoulders, “Why are the four of you here?” The moment hung in the air, for one second then dragged on, Jazz’s grip tightened slightly, patting Hound’s shoulder, “I’m really happy to see you Hound.” Hound lowers his head, smiling sadly, “I’m really happy to see you too Jazz.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked towards them both, “Jazz, we were going to find you, no matter the state you were in.” Sunstreaker’s voice was soft, rubbing lightly at his head, “Even if we died trying.” Sideswipe finished, smiling even behind the visor. They all nodded, the mission was to live and die for their planet, to do what they could while they could, they all knew it. To become drift compatible, the day you start the procedures is the day you sign your death certificate just about. Hound looked over at the pilots, at the numbers on their chests, staring at the twins 2450 through 51, and remembered how they’d passed three thousand before they left Earth. His hand comes up and rubs over the number on his own chest, “Our mission is to defeat these, Quintesson things, to stop them from attacking Earth. If we can take out their ranks here, or find wherever they're coming from, I think that’s worth it.” Breakdown hummed but stood, stretching, “I’m gonna walk around, try to get my translator working.” “Adjust your settings, it’s set up to translate into English.” Hound pointed at his head as Breakdown nodded and hands moved through the air, to the screens that would be in his cockpit to adjust the settings as he walked away. Jazz winced, “Uh, yeah, he’ll need to work on that.” Unable to hold it back, Hound chuckled, which eventually sent the group into laughter.

—

In the distance, Megatron was brooding, as were many other cybertronian’s watching the new and odd mecha interact. Optimus was talking quietly with Mirage only a few meters away, battle mask still up and covered in soot, “So, the yellow one,” “I think his name is Sunstreaker sir.” Mirage stood almost painfully rigid as he always did around the prime, “Yes, he’s the one who harmed Beachcomber?” Mirage nodded but clasped his hands lightly, “I don’t believe it was on purpose, the scraplet deterrent systems activated once they entered the solar farm, according to those who were there the fog was so thick they couldn’t see anything for the first half the fight.” Optimus hummed, nodding slowly, “And Beachcomber was seen by Knock Out, got his arm reattached and is already back in Iacon.” Mirage almost preened, he was good at his job and part of it was in fact the damage control. Optimus’s smile reached his eyes, hand coming to rest on Mirage's shoulder, “Thank you Mirage, I’d recommend you refuel and get some rest, we’ll be returning to Iacon in the morning.” With a stiff nod, Mirage steps back and salutes, “My Prime,” before heading towards where the energon was being served.

With a deep sigh, Optimus turned to Megatron, frowning now as he walked over, “In the last five stellar cycles, I thought you came to care for Jazz.” he stood as close to the grey mech as he could without touching him, his own gaze following Megatron’s to the strange mecha in the distance, “I have, that is why I am concerned on why they are here.” Optimus hummed, the back of his servos lightly brushing over Megatron’s, who brushed his back before crossing his arms and adjusting his stance, “If they did not come here to find Jazz, what else would have brought them here?” “I think they arrived here in a similar manner as to how Jazz came to us,” Megatron almost growled, it was a touchy subject, Jazz’s first few weeks in space and his collision with a space bridge, “But, regardless, they are here now and we will take care of them the same way that we have for Jazz.” Optimus looked at Megatron, smiling a bit before looking past him and sighing deeply, “It never ends, yes, Ironhide I am coming.” He quickly takes Megatron’s hand and releases it almost instantly, “Do not scare them while I am gone.” “I would never dream of it.” His tone said otherwise but the prime was already rushing off.

Megatron continued to watch the group, frowning deeply.

—

It was starting to get dark with the glow of the heater, the main thing for light, it was comfortable, familiar in a way.

Although it was against typical protocol, Hound was distracted and not keeping an eye on his team. Breakdown had wandered off to try and get his translator programmed and the twins were obviously snacking inside their suits as their hands clink against their visors every couple of seconds. He was thinking and starting at the heater, it wasn’t a fire but still something that would keep them warm. The last probably two days, he’d have to check over the actual logs to know how long it had been; it had been entirely strange and foreign. Something he’d expected working with a group so different from each other, but he didn’t anticipate the alien planet. He didn’t anticipate the wandering eyes of mechs that looked so much like his suit, but very clearly were not suits, stared at them all.

Heavy footfalls drew the twins' attention up, both of them gawking behind their visors at the sheer size of Megatron. Sure, they’d seen bigger mechs but he was also heavier by how just his footsteps lightly shock the ground. Sunstreaker turned towards Jazz, moving slightly closer, “Hey, do you know that guy?” Jazz glances up but looks back to Sunstreaker quickly, “That guy, is Lord High Protector, don’t piss him off.” He shifted back to his incomprehensible conversation with Prowl, who, if the twins were choosing to describe it, was gazing at Jazz as if he hung the damn stars in the sky. Sideswipe nudges Sunstreaker and together they shift closer to Jazz and Prowl, whispering quietly, “What the hell is a lord high protector?” Sideswipe shrugged lightly, “Beats me, but last time I messed with a guy in a suit that big, with a cannon that… compensating, I ended up in the hospital for three weeks and my mech lost it’s first arm.” Sunstreaker nods a bit, remembering that very distinctly since he’d been the one to pull the guy off his brother, neither of them had spoken to Barricade since. They move again, closer to Jazz and Prowl, both tuning their translators and trying to figure out what was between those two besides plating.

After a moment more, Megatron reached the outskirts of their group and he was glowering at it, the separation from the other mechs was bad enough before the war and now an entirely different species of mech was being terrorized by their shared enemy, it made his lines boil. Clearing his throat, he sat with them and leveled his gaze at the leader of their group, the one in green, “Hound, was it?” Who was still deeply lost in thought but glanced up, “Yes, um.” Jazz looks up and nearly has a heart attack, “Commander Megatron, sir, um.” He clears his throat painfully, “These are,” “I have received Prowl’s report, thank you Jazz.” With a slightly sheepish nod, Jazz looks to Hound. Who was stock still himself, as he had deactivated his own motion adapters to snack as to not draw attention to the fact he was eating. Jazz could tell and lightly shook his head, but a message popped up on Hound’s visual feed, ‘Don’t be stupid, also send me the specs for the transmitter, it's so not fair you can talk to them and I had to slog my way through their language’ Hound didn’t have time to answer, even as the twins did in his stead, “Hound, do you recall my question from earlier?” Megatron’s voice almost softened, as if he was anticipating a negative answer, “Of course sir.”

Taking a breath, he finished the bar quickly and shifted to look at the direct commander of this small outfit. His grey was intimidating, so many of the mechs on Earth had flashy colors so that they’d be able to sell merchandise, seeing someone washed out in such a way was almost disturbing. Hound shifted to look at him before reactivating the motion adapters and clearing his throat, tuning the translator slightly, “Sir, you asked us what brought us here, other than Jazz, I still don’t understand your question.” Megatron shifted a bit, gears grinding, reminiscent of the sound of Hound’s own joints in the early morning, “He is one mech, they sent four, why? What value does he hold to your people?” Nodding slightly, Hound scratches lightly at his jaw, “Well, Sir, technically he was only part of our mission, recover what parts we could. “Parts?” “Yes sir, we didn’t assume he survived.” Hound’s gaze wandered to the very alive Jazz, sighing lightly.

”You came to collect a dead mech, for a funeral?” It was a beat before Hound was able to respond, shifting slight, “Well, no. The government works with our agency, I technically work for both, recovering any parts of— Jazz, seemed more plausible and cost effective. We needed the data he has.” Megatron shifted slightly, crossing his arms, “The data?” Hound nodded some, “Yes Sir, the data, we don’t often travel space. Technically, we were expected to break Newton's third law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Back home we say, what goes up must come down. We weren’t planning on coming back down.” Looking up to the stars, Hound smiled sadly, “How would you provide the data if you were not expected to return?” Breakdown shifts in the distance, clearing his throat, “Uh, we have on our ship a relay satellite, it would broadcast the information much faster than simple radio waves. It would remain in function long past our remaining time.” Megatron turns to look at Breakdown, “Your remaining time?” Hound clears his throat again as Breakdown looks at the ground, “Well, nobody lives forever.” Over near Jazz, Sunstreaker hums lightly before Sideswipe sings off key, “Let us die young or let us live forever.” Jazz takes the opportunity to smack Sideswipe.

Megatron turns to stare at Hound, with a flicker of horror in his optics, shock evident on his face, “You expected to die,” Hound, shrugs lightly, shaking his head, “Most of us were the best candidates, no strings attached or nothing much to live for unless you count money.” He sighs deeply, tilting his head slightly, clearly in thought, “After Jazz disappeared, we knew once we volunteered there wouldn’t be a way back. It was easy to accept, us or the world. Wouldn’t you make that choice?” He looks back to Megatron, whose face was still filled with shock before pushing off his seat aggressively and storming over to Optimus who was still speaking with Ironhide, “Optimus! A word, now.” The taller blue and red mech looked to the grey with a sense of dread before nodding, ironhide making himself scarce. Jazz looked to Hound and whistled lightly, “You don’t talk to Megatron about the matters of freedom, you or the boss will get an ear full.” Hound tilted his head again and rubbed his neck, “I was just telling him about our mission, to find you and send data back home before we died.” “Yeah and you said that to cybertronian Karl Marx.” Prowl frowned, looking to Jazz and having a brief silent conversation before he nodded and returned to his datapad.

Breakdown moved over to the group, hands on hips, “What?”

—

Mirage was for the moment hiding in the command structure, trying to refuel in peace and cool down from the day's battle. The green one, Hound, was a remarkable marksman and was plaguing Mirage’s mind; in the moment he could finally understand the initial allure that Jazz had for Prowl. he rested his helm lightly in his servos, remaining out of sight as he attempted to consume his fuel. Footsteps echoed in the distance and moved closer, “Let us talk where the others might not hear,” Mirage looked up and remained invisible, staring with wide eyes as his commander's voice drew closer. Optimus watched Megatron briefly before gesturing to the command structure, following Megatron’s angered pace.

Optimus was already rubbing his face, holding open the tarp for Megatron to enter the tent. Mirage remained in the corner, now freezing in his efforts to eat in peace, subspacing his energon and remaining out of sight. He thought for a moment to attempt to leave before Megatron and started to speak, “A suicide mission, they sent on a suicide mission.” Optimus sighs and leans against the table, “From what Jazz has said, their planet is desperate. Hence how he ended up finding Prowl and how we even learned of them to begin with. He too is lucky to be alive.” “Then a second suicide mission! When the first one failed.” He paced the small space, “Megatron, we don’t know how they view death, we have seen the amount of damage they can take. I myself have been certain Jazz was dead a number of times.” Megatron turned to Optimus, anger evident, “And that makes it all better, doesn’t it? The fact that they are designed for battle and war!” “That is not what I mean and you know it.” Optimus grabs Megatron’s hand and holds it lightly, squeezing lightly at his servos, “You cannot convince people that their life is worth living when they’ve been told from the moment that they came online they are doomed to die, not in a single conversation. I understand your anger, old friend, do you think it does not hurt me to see living being dismiss their own value so easily?” Optimus’s eyes were sad with age and wisdom, Megatron signed out with steam, leaning his helm against Optimus’s shoulder, “How many more mechs born to die will we encounter from this world? Their numbers, 2451, within thirty solar cycles.” Optimus’s eyes wandered the room for a moment, twitching for a click before he brings a hand to rest lightly on the back of Megatron’s head, Mirage snags the image and saves it quickly, “It seems that their species is a flash of lighting, bright and violent and brief.”

They stood together for a moment, silent and just holding lightly to each other. Megatron’s hands rested on Optimus’s waist as Optimus held his head to his shoulder, taking solace for a moment together.

“I hate their planet.” Megatron’s voice wavered with emotion, knowing he could have this moment with Optimus, oblivious to Mirage in the corner as was to his specs, “You have never been there.” Optimus tried lightly, “And yet I have seen this evil. I have seen it in Jazz’s broken parts and now in four others who treat themselves as if they have already died.” It was a moment before Optimus could form more words, “Your poetic way with words never fails to move me, I just wish you could speak of happier subjects.” Megatron chuckled softly, “May we live in happier times and win this war for the sake of all people.” He finally pulled away from Optimus, staring at him for a moment, “Thank you, if I had remained out there it was likely I would have said things they didn’t need to hear this soon after losing their home.” Optimus’s servos lightly brushed over Megatron’s faceplate, “It seems my endeavors to teach you patience are paying off.” Megatron grabs Optimus’s wrist, snarling, “Don’t be too proud of yourself Prime. Now, I have work that needs to be done.” “Will I see you for refueling?” Optimus tried not to worry at his derma, Megatron paused as he headed for the tarp, “If work does not run too long, my Prime.” Somehow to Mirage, that didn’t sound like a term of respect, he tried not to grin.

Once Megatron exited the room, Optimus sighed deeply, leaning against the table and speaking up, “He may not have known you were there Mirage and I recommend we keep it that way.” Before he too left the room.

———

A/N

Alright, so I had help with writing Megatron’s dialogue at the end of the chapter, it’s something when that person is pacing through the room doing a Megatron impression. It just makes it easier to find his voice apparently.

Thank you to @daffodils-and-bonfires for saying Megatron is cybertronian Karl Marx, I knew it but needed the help to phrase it.

I can typically write Megatron when he is on the battle field or in the berth room (not like that) but when he needs to wax poetic, I struggle a bit.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 8

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Whoever writes Bizarro dialogue regularly should get an award. Just saying.

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 8

Dear Daddy Long Legs  

That was stupid. Please ignore me.  

First, to address the elephant in the room, yes, I skipped several days of class while I recovered from a concussion. It was the usual Gotham bullshit. You know how it is. I hated every second of my self-isolation, well most of it, at least.  

My professors were gracious and gave me extensions on my work. All except my philosophy professor who is, in fact, a raging asshole with a superiority complex. He told me I should have considered the hazards of living in Gotham and planned for the inevitable accordingly. Seriously. Those were his exact words. I have the email chain to prove it. Luckily, there’s a girl in my class who offered to take notes for me. I should be back up to speed in no time.  

We’re reading the Robert Fitzgerald translation of the Odyssey in my English class. He does a good job, but my friend suggested I give the Emily Wilson translation a try.  

Bruce.   

Bruce.    

Or however you want me to address you.  

It’s phenomenal. The lilting prose, the use of iambic pentameter to create a rhythm. Compared to Fitzgerald, it feels accessible and modern. I tried to bring it up in my class discussion and my professor stopped me. He said Wilson’s translation was fanciful fluff.  

Excuse me? Last I checked, he wasn’t an expert in Ancient Greek. As my friend said, we should study multiple translations to fully understand the intent of the source…  

Jason hid a smile with his palm as he read your letter. You spent the next few pages outlining why your professor’s opinion was objectively wrong. It was fascinating the difference one letter could make, and he half-expected to find an annotated bibliography at the end of your long rant.  

You wrote without inhibition now that you’d scaled the hurdle of the first letter. He could spend hours analyzing your argument and crafting his fictitious counterargument, but his attention snagged on one sentence.  

A friend suggested I give the Emily Wilson translation a try.  

You called him a friend.  

He tried not to read into it. That was the simplest way to describe your relationship with him, even if the term didn’t quite fit. You were never going to tell Bruce Wayne that you took a book recommendation from Red Hood (though it would have been hilarious if you had).  

Bruce Wayne’s heart would have stopped. He, on the other hand, was having a difficult time controlling his.  

Friend, friend, friend…  

Selfishly, he wanted it to be true. If you two were friends, he could have these conversations with you like a normal person. Two letters weren’t nearly enough. He probably had another waiting, but he didn’t have time to check before he left with the Outlaws. Patience had never been one of his strong points, and he was paying for it dearly now.  

“ Jason. ”  

Artemis snatched the pages from his hands. He caught himself on the far arm of her seat, narrowly avoiding falling onto her lap. She held the pages over her head and his seatbelt kept him pinned in place.  

“You are distracted,” she said.   

“I was totally listening.”  

“Then what did I say?”  

He pursed his lips, still holding himself up with one hand and the other outstretched toward her. She arched a brow in a silent challenge, and Jason was too stubborn to back down.  

“Trick question. You didn’t say anything.”  

Bizarro shook his head from his seat across the row. One earbud hung free so he could hear the conversation. “Right move.”  

“Shut up, Biz.”  

Artemis shoved his head away. It was surprisingly gently given he knew she could launch him across the cabin if she wanted to. “If we are to succeed, we need your full attention. I do not take kindly to half-assed effort, especially for something as ornery as…” She scanned the letter, her frown deepening. “What the fuck is this? Why did they call you daddy ?”  

Heat bloomed across his cheeks as he reached for the pages again. “Nothing!”  

Bizarro perked up with a grin. “It looks like nothing.”  

Jason snarled, “ Shut up .”  

“The truth, Jason.”   

She handed the pages back to him. He tucked them away in his coat. “She’s just a —” He refused to feed the delusion and call you a friend. “Let’s call her a pen pal and leave it there.”  

Artemis squinted. “And you are making your pal call you daddy?”  

He choked on air. “She didn’t—”  

Well, technically you did .  

“I swear, it’s not like that.”  

“You fool everyone, my enemy,” Bizarro muttered under his breath. His attention fell back to the movie playing on his phone.  

“Seriously. It’s not. Just let me explain.”  

He spent the next thirty minutes relaying the events that transpired thus far—no details spared. Maybe that was his mistake. Some details, he realized, could have remained unsaid. Namely the fact that he’d spent the better part of an hour on your floor so you wouldn’t see his face as he read to you. There were probably better ways to do it, but he panicked and that was the result.  

When he finished, he settled back and waited for one of them to speak. Bizarro and Artemis shared a long look, their faces confirming what he already knew. He crossed his arms, fingers bunching the leather of his sleeves.  

“Say something. Please.”  

Artemis spoke first, “So, you are stalking this woman?”  

Jason blanched. “W-What? No.”  

“This no sound like a good horror movie,” Bizarro agreed, his brow pitched in veritable confusion, “You no act like Batman.”  

“Bizarro has a point. I would expect his bullshit from Batman or one of your brothers, but not you. It’s a little creepy, keeping tabs on her like you would a charge.”  

“That’s not—I’m not…”  

He struggled to catch his breath. No matter how he spun it, this looked bad. It might seem normal for someone like Bruce or Tim whose love language included constant surveillance and extensive profiling, but Jason didn’t want to be compared to them. “Fuck. Does this make me a creep?”  

“Yes,” Artemis said flatly, “But I hear that spending too much time in Gotham can do that to a person. I have always said you are better off making a life for yourself elsewhere.”  

She had. Several times now. It was one of the many reasons why things didn’t pan out between them. Try as he might, Jason couldn’t quit Gotham, even when it turned its back on him.  

“You no be yourself,” Bizarro insisted, “No one likes real Jay.”  

Jason tugged his helmet on to hide the embarrassed flush that bled into the crown of his head. Yeah, he could live without the who be yourself spiel, especially from the man created to say the exact opposite of what he meant. Even if he knew what Bizarro really meant, it hurt to hear the very words that kept him awake at night spoke aloud.  

“Can we not? Let’s just focus on the job we were hired to do.”  

“Finally,” Artemis sighed, “Praise Ra. If I knew embarrassment was the way to get you focused, I would have done so sooner. You fluster quite easily.”  

He flipped her off.  

She moved on as if he hadn’t reacted at all. “We are close to our destination. I think we are ready now that the distractions have been laid to rest.”  

“I am confused,” Bizarro agreed with a shrug.  

The job was straightforward. Break into several facilities along the west coast, sabotage the product, and get out before they’re caught. As far as missions went, this one was standard. Or at least, it would have been if the client didn’t offer more than twice what they usually charged for a hit like this.  

Jason was wary, but not enough to turn down the job. “Should be simple. I’m not too worried.”  

***  

Famous last words.  

Jason slid across the floor, narrowly avoiding being flattened by flying debris. He gritted his teeth as he readjusted his grip on his guns and sent a well-aimed shot through the head of the sentient bot looming over him. The bullet ricocheted off the glass that guarded the delicate tech that lay beneath.  

Two more shots and that glass shattered. Sparks went flying, and the bot folded in on itself. He shoved himself off the ground. One down, at least a dozen more to go.  

The client failed to mention the tech they were sent to fuck with was sentient, but the payout suddenly made a lot more sense.  

Simple his ass.  

Bots swarmed Bizarro like flies to honey, but he held his own as he tore through them with his bare hands. Artemis cleaved two in half with a clean arc of her axe, scattering bits of steel and wire across the floor of the warehouse.  

“This is annoying,” she remarked with a huff.  

“Look on the bright side. We know what to expect from the other six facilities. Might even have time to grab some lunch before we hit the next one,” he said as he shot another robot between the proverbial eyes, “I hear Cali has great sushi.”  

“Bizarro hates sushi,” he grunted as he tossed twitching remains across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a resounding crack, fracturing the concrete.  

Jason grinned as another bot went down. It was oddly freeing, settling back into his routine with the Outlaws. Here, with them, there were no expectations beyond getting paid and trying not to die. He found solace amid his band of imperfect misfits. It was good to be back.  

He would return to Gotham.  

He always did.  

But for now, he was here, and he planned to make the most of his time with the misfits.  

“Jason, behind you!”  

He whipped around, a thermal beam striking him in the chest. He flew across the room, colliding with a line of shipping containers. He swore on a groan as he peeled himself off the ground. The blast left a smoldering hole in his coat. He shrugged it off and stomped out the cinders. He sifted through the inner pocket to ensure your letter was still intact.  

“Idiot!” Artemis lunged in front of him to deflect another blast aimed at his back. She pinned him with a withering glare. “Focus. Next time I will let them burn you to cinders.”  

He nodded tightly. “Understood.”  

The final robot hit the floor twenty minutes later. Sweat soaked the back of his suit, and he could feel the bruise on his spine, but he’d had far worse. He released the empty magazines and holstered his guns.  

“So, we still want sushi?”  

“Not me!” Bizarro said as he landed beside him. Jason clapped him on the back as the pair headed for the door. “Bizarro hates the Dynamite roll.”  

“You and me both, big guy.”  

“Jason, a word.”  

He flinched as he turned to face Artemis. She hung back by the shipping containers with a grave expression. That wasn’t a good sign.  

Bizarro removed his hand from his shoulder and ducked out before Jason could beg him to intervene. Traitor , he thought as he doubled back to join Artemis. Whatever she had to say, he knew it would be brutal.   

“Look, I know I was distracted today but—”  

“I do not regret breaking up with you.”  

He bit off the rest of his statement, nearly swallowing his tongue in the process. Artemis had never been a romantic. He knew this when they started dating. He hoped time would soften her heart. Time passed and she remained hard and unwavering. It was one of the many things he admired about her.   

When they broke up, it was clean. For her. It hurt Jason, probably more than he cared to admit, but he’d come to accept that they were better off as friends.  

It also helped that they also never talked about it.  

Until now.  

Jason wondered if it was too late to trigger another round of robots so he could avoid this conversation.  

“Thanks.”  

“I am not saying this to be mean,” she insisted as she tossed his jacket to him, “I say this because I know you yearn for a deeper connection, even when you feel you do not deserve it. If Odysseus could return to his Penelope after all the atrocities he committed on his journey and still be worthy of love, so can you.”  

Her words tugged at an old wound he thought he’d gotten over. For the most part, he had. Once upon a time, he would have killed for the kind of romantic allegory from her, but his bond with Artemis was born of shared trauma and bitter rejection. It worked for a while, but it wasn’t the sturdiest foundation to build their relationship.  

He hugged the jacket to his chest and mumbled, “No idea what you’re talking about?”  

Her laugh sounded more like a bark. “I am sorry I could not be the romantic partner you needed, but I think one exists, and they may be a lot closer than you think.”  

His shoulders curled. She assumed he had a crush on you, but that wasn’t the case. He just admired your mind. He liked how passionate you were, and how you didn’t hide those pieces of yourself. He saw himself in you. He wanted to see what those pieces became when given the chance to flourish.  

Sure, he muddied the lines the last time he saw you, but he refused to make the same mistake twice. Avoiding you was the smart thing to do for both of your sakes. No more poor decision wrapped in good intentions.  

“Is that all?”  

A muscle in her jaw tightened. “Yes.”  

Thank God . “Right. Let’s get out of here.”  

[thinking-through-some-things]

What do you mean by the women from epic the musical was poorly handled? Can you explain? I’m interested bc I thought that too

ho boy, let's see.

there's definitely a general feminist critique to be had about how few women are in the musical and how small their parts are. obviously i realize the musical primarily follows the leading man and his male crew because that's just how the odyssey works. but it's still a conversation worth having, especially since there are ways to make the existing female characters better. the decision to base this on the odyssey is still a choice.

i don't have much to say about most of the monsters/goddesses. aeolus and scylla are fine. circe is okay, and she actually gets a few songs. personally i think god games should just be cut entirely; it's just athena justifying everything odysseus has done. hera is fine. i don't like how athena stops talking to aphrodite once ares shows up; the line that convinces her is "tell your lover that a broken heart can mend," which is directed at ares.

not mentioning anticlea until she's already dead means her death doesn't really have the weight it should. he's desperate to get back to penelope and telemachus, so it just feels like he forgot about his mom, which makes that tragedy feel a little unearned. he should be just as concerned to get back to her as he is the other two, which means he should mention her whenever he sings about them in the first act. then it would actually matter more when we find out she's dead.

the rest is under a read more because i wrote a lot about athena, and because i need to give a trigger warning for sexual assault for my other points.

athena is clearly the strongest female character and is positioned to be a foil to odysseus. that being said, i didn't really follow her shift in philosophy - going back to look at the lyrics it's because she blames herself for teaching him to be cruel? the goodbye at the start is weird - she's mad at him for not being ruthless, but really the problem is that he's arrogant - which is still something she could chastise him for. idk. either way i don't think her evolution was explored well at all - she basically just changes her mind because she misses him, not because she has actually seen anything to suggest mercy is good. and it's weird that she's only at the beginning, in the wisdom saga, and at the very end. her stuff isn't terrible, but it needs to be better distributed throughout the musical so there can be an evolution. give her one more song towards the end of act one, break up the wisdom saga so her story feels like it's part of the musical instead of a weird distraction in the middle, and actually show us why she starts to think mercy is good. as is her character is too reliant on odysseus in a way that really hurts that the story. bringing up telemachus earlier and exploring that relationship, or penelope and ithica, gives you a chance for athena to see something that helps her change her mind. (i have more to say about her story but that's just about fixing the plot. i think i've made my point here.

okay trigger warning for real.

calypso is really weirdly done. she has one song where she's pressuring him to be with her, and then a song where she refuses to apologize for "unrequited love" or something. odysseus is upset with her and struggling with ptsd in the first song, and then says he loves her in the second. it feels like the musical wants you to have an overall favorable impression of her. there's a lot of discussion about whether or not this is a case of sexual assault in the fandom posts i've seen, but i don't think that's something the musical is discussing. if anything, it takes the stance that it isn't, at least in this version, and that calypso is just some sad girl who wants to be loved. that being said, i've seen some pretty disgusting hatred directed towards calypso in those posts - not clear if it's for the original version, this one, or if there's any difference. either way, the musical needs to decide if calypso is bad/problematic or if she's good/misunderstood, and both of her songs need rewriting. (there's also something to be said about her being the only visibly black female character, but i don't know much about the actual actors for the musical so i'll leave this be for now. but that did stick out to me while watching the animatics.)

i have very mixed opinions about the sirens. the imagery of a group of men standing over and brutalizing a group of women as they beg for their lives was pretty heavy. i don't hate it - it very much sells the idea that the men have become monsters. however, it really bothers me that it basically just. happens. and then we move on. odysseus agonizes over so many choices, but this one seems like it was easy for him, and he doesn't suffer any guilt over it. no one challenges it. so overall it just comes off as a reason to brutalize women, which leaves a sour taste in my mouth. i wish we'd at least get pushback from some of the crew so there's at least some conversation about how maybe this isn't 100% justified. instead, the only mention of the sirens is in god games, where... apollo gives a half-hearted argument about how the sirens sing catchy songs. the other gods at least have a point. and with all of this, athena's retort just feels very victim-blame-y to me. overall, i think there's a way to keep the stuff with the sirens in - but there needs to be more delicacy in how the whole thing is handled.

and finally, penelope. she's probably the worst-written female character in the musical. she exists to 1) be odysseus's motivation/prize, and 2) assure odysseus that he's actually a good person and sure, every terrible thing he did was totally fine, no issue. her first song, which isn't until the last saga, just 1) tells us she's sad, and 2) gives us odyssey plot. the challenge doesn't really do anything to the musical's plot, so you might as well cut it. and her only other song is the finale, where she assures odysseus she loves him and never doubted him and she has no qualms over anything he did because she's a Strong Woman so she still loves him unconditionally. also the bit about the bed is confusing. it's clearly only in there because of the odyssey, and it makes no sense for the musical. penelope has no character in this musical.

(i acknowledge this is a bit hypocritical, but i would actually cut the actual penelope out of the musical. the mentions and cameos of odysseus's idea of her, and the bit with the sirens, can stay, but actual penelope never shows up. i would lean into the idea of her being his prize in a way that leaves you a little unsettled. but also i think odysseus should be the bad guy in the end, so.)

and finally, i hate the decision to introduce the threat of the suitors gang-raping penelope. we already know the suitors aren't great. they're demanding penelope marry one of them. they beat up the kid. there's no need to evoke such a graphic image; i felt sick the first time i heard it, and i don't even have experience with/trauma related to sexual assault. the only point of this song is to justify odysseus slaughtering the suitors, because actually they're all terrible, horrible people. which again just weakens the idea that odyssseus is some kind of monster, because this very intentionally makes him look like a hero. between the decision to downplay the idea of circe or calypso sexually assaulting odysseus (both interpretations popular in what fandom posts i have seen) alongside the brutal violence perpetrated against the sirens and the intentional addition of a whole song about gang-raping penelope, the musical has an uncomfortable focus on violence against women. it's gratuitous and serves no purpose.