#( conversations: phoebus. )

[greekgodssitcom]

Artemis: I’m a top

Apollo: You’re a virgin

[sins-of-the-sea]

Atz’lut v’ Ta’avah (6/?)

Guy learns why the Master calls him the Quarry of the Rhône...

The young man takes a moment to gaze into the everlasting darkness as he bears the weight of the truth of his mother… and how he was nearly a sacrifice to the Rhône. “With everything that happened to Maman… I guess it’s little wonder she ran to some Christian man and got us Noelle?”

“A very frowned upon decision, regardless of faith. Pierre was more than determined to convert your mother and her two sons. He never liked you in particular. He always liked Phoebus more because he was the quieter, more passive brother–-and again. More compliant.”

“M-Master… please. I don’t need these reminders. I came to you to get away from Phoebus, not-...”

“Phoebus had all the makings for a brilliant student, especially as a doctor. Pierre tried to foster this–but it often resulted in separating you two. You didn’t like that. So you often got in the way. Your mother tried to foster your interests and talents, but Pierre determined them to be… unseemingly. Such as your growing desire to learn how to paint.”

“He… thought it was a waste of time. The arts were for impractical dreamers who waste coin. Phoebus had a similar interest in sculpting, but he couldn’t say it aloud.

“He was too cowardly.”

“It didn’t matter! 

“He was the favorite! The Good Son! Everything in our relationship with Pierre hung on a thread through Phoebus! He did everything he demanded! He studied! He went to Christian church! He declared Christ as his savior and walked away from our Jewish customs! All so we can still have a father who could stay with us and feed us, no matter if he liked me at all or not!”

“....He still walked away.”

“It had to be me! I had to be the reason he walked away! Even if Phoebus did everything as a good son and Maman was a good wife and Noelle was a good daughter, it all didn’t matter in the end because I wasn’t good enough. I always insisted on skipping mass. I always questioned Pierre when it came to the Christian interpretations of our Jewish stories. I always shouted at him whenever he did something that made Maman cry. And I- …”

“...I accidentally lit Papa’s rosary on fire during that evening as we tried to sneak in candle lighting for Rosh Hashanah that night. Pierre didn’t say anything to me for the rest of the weekend…

“And then he walked out into the rain. I chased after him. I lost sight of him. I never saw him again.”

[juliusceasersblog]

Mea-culpa

Warning, this is the first fanfiction I've written since 2021.... anyway!!

In this story, y/n is a not so innocent nun. She and the "beloved" Archdeacon of Paris are close. *Extremely* close.

Kinks ( innocence, degradation, sadism, masochist, size difference, breeding, orgasm control, age play )

Click, click, clack

The noise vibrated through the Cathedral as she walked. Pushing through the doors of the kitchen where Reverend mother Jaqueline was waiting.

"Those shoes of yours are absolutely far too loud, sister y/n." The stout woman replied as she walked over to younger girl.

"My apologies, Reverend mother..'' she spoke with a slight whimper at the end of her sentence. "They were given to me by my late sister. She passed of the pox." Y/n spoke with a shutter.

"I know child. You told me when you were in your novice training." The greying lady spoke. "I did?" Y/n shrugged. "I must've forgotten about it." The nun shrugged again.

"Archdeacon Frollo is requesting your presence in the hall of justice. Questions about the orphans singing at the Christmas mass." Reverend mother explained.

The Young nun sighed. "He couldn't call on sister Margaret?'' Y/n called out as she busied herself with pulling a cloth off rising sour dough. "He told me he'd like to talk to you in specific." Reverend mother explained.

"Alright. I suppose we did Have a rather interesting conversation at Thanksgiving mass." Y/n explained with a smile.

"Oh goodness. I suppose I should get going if Archdeacon Frollo would like to speak to me before the midnight bells begin to ring." Y/n laughed. "I'll see you in confession Reverend mother." The young girl smiled as she walked out of the kitchen.

The walk to The hall of justice was a cold one. Frost had accumulated around the windows of the Cathedral and as y/n threw her dark wool coat on. A ring of fur was around the collar of the coat. Another gift from Claudette. Y/n's late sister.

Y/n exited the Cathedral and the cold air of the parisian winter hit her in the face. The walk to The palace of justice was not a lengthy walk by any means.

But as y/n walked up the steps of the hall. Raising her hand to knock on the door. But before her fist could meet the door. A young soldier opened the door.

His blonde hair was rested against his head as a halo would rest against a angels head. "Hello, sister. I don't believe we know eacho-'' the young man was inturrupted ny the sister.

"Captian, we have met on several occasions. At Thanksgiving mass and at the children's benefit last week. Phoebus. Am I correct?'' Y/n said with a small smile spreading across her face. A light blush across her cheeks now.

"Oh- yes- your the one who I pulled under the stai-" the capitan cleared his throat as a hand was pressed to his shoulder. Spindly fingers that were adorned with rings and such.

"Ah, capitan Phoebus. Nice to see that you've found the woman of the hour." The Archdeacon snapped. "I've been waiting well over an hour for you. Sister." Claude clapped quickly. Escorting her up to his office.

The Archdeacon pressed the door of his office shut. Humming and handing y/n a paper. A large scroll of parchment with 3 unsigned signature marks. "Here.'' He said.

Pointing at the spot where the sister had to sign. "I need Reverend mothers signature as well." Claude explained as y/n dipped her quill in ink and Began to write her name.

"Of course, these things must be in order for the matron of the orphanage. She expects everything in pristine order. Although she is paying for none of it.'' Frollo laughed stiffly.

"Thats unfortunate. I suppose they don't have much money.'' Y/n shrugged as she handed the parchment back to Claude with a small smile.

"I do have to wonder. Sister. About something I over heard.." the Archdeacon started out. "With your novice training, you are not supposed to be having any sexual relations. And as I've seen on several occasions. You clearly aren't following any of your training." Claude smirked as he stalked towards the young lady.

"Excuse me? How dare to talk to me like that. This is highly inappropriate conduct." The sister shuttered. Had he seen captian Phoebus on his knees. Eating her out as the churchgoers got the holy communion.

"If you don't want you and your .. sun-god to be exposed to the entire church. I suppose you give me what." The older man smirked. Standing behind the sister.

"Your just like the rest of them aren't you? Men, you all want the same thing in the end.'' Y/n snapped.

Before the young woman could tell what was happening. Claudes arm had traveled up to y/n's face. His hand colliding with the nun's face. Earning a yelp from the sister.

Her face became quickly red. Her hand had sat upon her cheek. Whining softly. Y/n took her hand from her face. Putting them on Claude's chest. Resting against frollo with a whine.

Frollo took her face in his hand. Her chin in his forefinger and middle finger. His thumb resting against y/n's jaw. Bringing his lips to brush against the sisters own.

Frollos kiss was soon inturrupted as y/n bumped against his desk. She sat down and the Archdeacon yanked her skirt up. Kissing up her thigh. Nipping at the inside. Drawing blood.

Y/n let out a groan of pleasure as she pulled her habit off. Her hair sliding around to frame her face and shoulders. "Just- please fuck me already." The sister begged.

Claude brought his hand to cover the young woman's mouth. "Don't have such foul language in the house of justice.'' Claude said sternly. Standing up and undoing his robes. Black pants and a black shirt adorned his body.

Unbuttoned his pants quickly. Opening his hand. "Spit in it." He said quickly. Lathering his cock in y/n's spit. Groaning and taking her undergarments off quickly. Pushing into the girl as she put her hands on claudes shoulders.

Moving so y/n threw her head back. Moaning loudly and biting on Frollo's neck. "You certainly don't sound like a virgin.'' The Archdeacon taunted.

Y/n scoffed. "How many anatomy books have you looked at to know how sex works?" The sister taunted in response. Watching as claude growled lowly. Feeling his neck being bitten.

Claude let his hand move lower. Circling y/ns clit with tight and hard circles. Smirking as she bit down on her hand to draw blood.

The sister nearly came then and there. How was he so good at this? Was he a virgin. His movements inside of her said otherwise.

Frollos cock was large. Longer than it was girthier. Looking upon the girl as he felt her thighs began to shake. The soft flesh of her thighs shaking as she came around his cock. "F-fuck-'' the nun cried out.

"That was fast. Shall I cum inside you? On your ass? Your bosom?'' Claude called out.

"Inside of me- please?'' She begged. Claude was close himself. His age had been catching up with him snd he could tell he couldn't last as he used to.

Frollo came deep inside her. Spilling his seed all over her womb and kissing her as he did so...

_________________

That's it... #Yolo

[gingermintpepper]

Brother II

“Artie,” he says, and he’s got that sparkle in his eye that means she ought to start picking out hunting wolves from the twenty-three hundred that roam their island, “I have a date.”  He’s in satin and goat-skin today, hair done up in little jewelled cuffs and smelling like the belladonna that only grows in central valley.  There’s no violet in his hair,  no rose, no poplar, no heliotrope Just laurel. Plain, dead laurel bound tight on myrtle branch and more telling than she ought to be. He’s smiling too - or at least he was up until she let the space between her response settle its weight on his shoulders, a boulder as Sisyphean as the conversation they’re about to have Because it’s always the same with him no matter how many times she tells him to cut his losses and just take a vow.

Instead of the berating she has cocked and loaded behind the bow of her lips, their mother’s voice cuts in an arrow all its own,  “That’s wonderful, Phoebus! Who's the lucky youth?”  But Apollo doesn’t take the bait, gold eyes dissecting when he catches her gaze The question he never gets a chance to ask burning through her like fire in her veins long after their mother takes his hand and leads him away so she can humour his insanity.

Extracts from the Greenhouse Floor.

[hyakinthou-naos]

Hyakíntha Ritual: The Heortē

1. Ceremonial Garments

As we celebrate the resurrection of Prince Hyacinthus, we adorn ourselves in clothing that reflects our joy and celebration. Jewelry and adornments that honor Prince Hyacinthus and Lord Apollo are worn in abundance as an outward symbol of our joy. Warm shades of oranges, yellows, and whites remind us of the God of Prophecy - and cooler shades of greens and purples remind us of the Spartan Prince.

2. Khernips & Purification

Following the days events, we don our garments and parade to The Temple. We reach the steps and ramps of The Temple's entrance, both adorned with hyacinths, sunflowers, lavender, and larkspur. The Temple's doors are opened wide, music playing from within

The entrance chamber holds a bowl of water where flaming leaves of bay and laurel have been extinguished. The water splashes as we joyfully wash our hands in the lustral water, cleansing ourselves before we enter The Temple's center.

3. Gathering at the Altar

We proceed into The Temple's center; the music still playing softly as we enter. The altar is positioned in the center of the room, behind which stands the Temple's Steward - dressed in robes of purple. Chairs and pillows for seating are arranged in a semi-circle in front of the altar.

We take our seats

4. Opening Prayer & Deity Invocation

We settle into our chosen seats, as the music and conversations slowly fade away. The Steward stands behind the altar and lights the center candle, and speaks:

Hestia, great goddess of the ancients - Daughter of the Titans Cronus and Rhea - She who is honored before all others. We gather here today and ask that you accept this flame, as a humble offering to you. Hestia, goddess of hearth and home Lead our way, and light our path.

The Steward then moves to light the second candle, and raises their arms to the heavens, saying:

Lord Apollo, shinning god of light and prophecy Son of Lord Zeus and Lady Lêta Lover of Hyacinthus, for whom we celebrate today O bright and shining Lord, we ask that you accept this flame and grace us with your presence. We call upon you today, great god of music and healing, to bare witness to our ritual - as we celebrate the return of your love, the beautiful Hyacinthus, Prince of Sparta. May Lord Hermes carry these words from our lips, to your ears, on mighty Mount Olympus. Du et des, we give so you may give.

Lastly, the Steward moves to light the third candle and the ceremonial incense, and raises their arms to the heavens, saying:

O Hyacinthus, noble prince of Sparta, Son of Amyclas and Diomede, brother of Polyboia Beloved of Apollo, the divine son of Zeus O strong yet gentle Prince, we ask that you accept these offerings of flame and incense - and be with us today We call upon you, radiant prince of blooming flowers, to bear witness to our ritual - as we celebrate your return into the arms of your beloved. May Lord Hermes carry these words from our lips, to your ears, in the heavens where you live forever more.

5. Hymns & Music

As the Steward concludes their prayer, they open a book sat behind the altar - The Temple's book of hymns. The pages turn as the Hytheria settles on a passage, and begins to read:

A Hymn for Hyacinthus [Altered Version]

Oh to the lover of our Lord We see you in every shade of lavender We feel you in every warm spring breeze We understand you every time lovers look into each others eyes. How did he look - the Lord of the Muses - When you ran your fingers through his hair? How did it feel? To touch the sun To feel its warmth Oh how we envy you Oh how we honor you Oh how we rejoice in you Oh lover of our Lord

We Are For You; a Hymn to Lord Apollo [Altered Version]

Lord Phoebus He who shines light into our darkness, He who brings music to our souls. Who would we be without your graces? Who would we be without your love? Oh sweet Lord of all we hold dear - You have been with us - all the days of our lives Waiting patiently for our devotion. And we are here- Knees bent, Eyes closed, Heart open. We are for you, Lord Apollo - We are for you.

The Steward finishes his reading, placing the book back from whence it came, and arranges for the music to begin. Before starting the music, the Steward speaks:

I invite you all to listen to this music, and think of Lord Apollo, and Prince Hyacinthus. Think of how their love, though interrupted by fate, is everlasting. Think of how their dedication to each other is not diminished by their loving of others. Love is boundless, it is joy and lust and adventure - but it is also work and struggle and pain. All that is, is imperfect, even the Gods. Love is imperfection; love exists in multitudes; love is the power we feel here today.

While today we celebrate romantic love, platonic love is just as powerful - and love need not be romantic to be worth the effort.

I invite you all, in the center of this room or from the seats which you have chosen, to dance and be joyful. For today we celebrate love - in all its many forms.

Music begins to play, and the Steward joins the congregation in a dance of youthful joy.

6. Libations

As the music concludes, and the dancers return to their seats, the Steward places a large ceremonial bowl in the center of the participants. The Steward then returns with glasses filled with liquid, giving one to each of those in attendance. The Steward stands in front of the altar and speaks:

In honor and reverence of the ancient ways, we hold before us a libation of milk and water. As we pour these libations, we offer them to Prince Hyacinthus, and Lord Apollo. They who bring us joyous spring, they who show us unending love, they who hold our hands through sorrow - we offer this to them.

We all pour our libations into the center bowl, the liquids swirl and splash, as they all come together as one in the bowl's center.

7. Divination

[Ritual attendees/participants are encouraged to engage in their own personal divination with Prince Hyacinthus and/or Lord Apollo at this time.]

8. Closing Prayers

As the pouring of the libations concludes, the Steward returns to behind the altar. The Steward takes a moment to pause, before speaking:

With joy and laughter, with awe and amazement We conclude this evening rite We give thanks to radiant Lord Apollo, God of music and medicine And his beloved, Prince Hyacinthus, whose beauty and spirit are once again alive Lord Apollo, glorious archer, we thank you for your guiding light, For the wisdom and strength you gift to us, And for the music that stirs our hearts May you continue to inspire and protect us We give thanks to Prince Hyacinthus, he who is noble and pure We honor your return and celebrate you ascension to the heavens Your life, a testament to beauty - a beacon in the darkness, a refuge in the storm May your story echo within us, Reminding us of fleeting life and eternal love

The Steward raises their arms to the heavens, and once again speaks:

May the blessings of Apollo and Hyacinthus Guide us our paths, fill our hearts with joy, And guide us in harmony and peace.

The Steward lowers their arms and extinguishes the second candle, before speaking for a final time:

Hestia, first -

The Steward blows out the center candle.

- and last

And with that, the ritual is concluded.

[pines-troz]

A Fascinating Contrast Between Quasimodo and Frollo.

One of my favorite things about The Hunchback of Notre Dame is how it highlights the contrast between Quasimodo and Frollo regarding their actions, how they see the world, and how they see themselves. So I can't help but wonder if the staging of these two scenes is intentional regarding location and how the characters approach other living beings as a way to emphasize their personalities and goals.

When Quasimodo is first introduced, we see him on the balcony of Notre Dame encouraging a baby bird to fly. Quasi is notably very friendly and sweet to the bird, and when the bird is apprehensive, Quasi brings up the Festival of Fools to convince the bird to keep trying. When the baby bird wants to join the rest of the flock Quasi smiles with approval, gives the bird a gentle pat, and helps it take off. Quasi's smile shifts into a sorrowful frown as he longs to be part of the city he loves. It's pretty telling when Quasi tells the bird "no one wants to be cooped up here forever", he's also referring to himself and his desire to go out there.

Later on, when Frollo is conversing with Phoebus on the balcony of the Palace of Justice about his "war" on the Romani, the judge compares them to ants and mercilessly squishes three of them. When further illustrates his plans for genocide by lifting up the stone to crush the colony of ants. It's a chilling display of Frollo's bigotry.

Overall, these two scenes present a solid contrast between the hero and villain. Frollo harbors hatred and racism while Quasimodo is gentle, kindhearted, and sees beauty in everyday life.

[mydarlingdearestdead]

The Things We Do For Love- Chapter Six

"Father."

Apollo bowed his head in such a manner as to render his crown of golden curls level with his father's sandals. Zeus smiled, gloating as if respect factored into the equation. Although, that is not to imply that he did not understand the ultimate truth. That, of course, in a civilised society fear must rule all. His throne, erected upon a raised platform, was of plain, white marble. His wife's, in direct contrast, was simple oak.

"Stand up straight." Zeus commanded, slitted eyes warily upon his son. Apollo did as commanded. His eyes flitted to Zeus'. The tasteful, storm-ridden blue was unflinching under Apollo’s golden scrutiny.

Hera's gaze, of course, laid not upon either of them, but rather upon her finger nails, those which she admired. A deep, vinous purple she had commanded for this day in preparation of Dionysus' garden party that very evening- An annual event, the highlight of the century.

Zeus' lips split in a wide, malicious smile.

"My dearest son," He drawled, "What brings you here before me on this fine day?"

On the mortal plane, lightning congregated within grey clouds, rain lashed upon rough-hewn dirt roads and thunder reached the ears of those with the sense to cower in the shadows.

Apollo swung his lyre from his back, plucking several hesitant notes before he spoke.

"Father," He began, a melodic lilt to his practised tone, "I wish to bring a case before the council of Olympus."

Zeus' laughter was akin to thunder rolling beyond the hills.

"Has someone been stealing your laurel leaves?" Zeus jested, "Or dismissing your cows as they sleep? Hardly council matters. You are dismiss-"

"The case of Hyacinth." Apollo's words drew the breath from Zeus' chest in a horrid gasp. He continued, "I wish to rescue my love from the depths of Hades."

Now, Hera rose her head, two-toned eyes sparkling like jewels.

Apollo’s practised melody became sweet and soft. A song fit for Queens.

"Oh..." She purred, "Oh, my dear-" She directed her musings to her husband, pouting, "-You must. You simply must."

"Hera, but-"

"No." She cut him off, smiling, sweet as nectar, "No, dear. You will take this case or I may bring that of that pretty little nymph of yours before them."

Zeus, lips set in a line of marble, bore down upon Apollo, "You may have what you seek." He grumbled.

Hera, if I may be so blunt, simply beamed.

Apollo, upon taking his leave, sought Eros’ company. In the palace of Love, they convened. Apollo reclined upon a settee, dusted faintly with Aphrodite’s perfume, as he spoke, “Archery practice must be postponed, I fear… I have another request for you, however. If you will humour me in my unease.”

Eros’ eyes flashed.

“Go on. Don’t leave me in suspense.” She laughed, “Anything for you, Phoebus.”

Apollo unslung his lyre once more. He plucked aimlessly at the strings for a moment though, almost instantly, he returned to the same melody; The fates prophecy fulfilled; Hyacinth’s song of sadness.

“Please,” He pleaded, “Refrain from calling me that.”

“Why?” Eros’ demanded, “You’re definitely bright.”

Apollo dismissed the futile conversation. He returned swiftly to the topic at hand.

“Eros.” He said, “I require your aid within the confines of the trial. Please, my friend, you must offer testimony to Hyacinth’s character and my... sheer adoration of him.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Eros inquired, anxiously picking at his nail-beds.

As he spoke, Apollo strummed with an insistence unheard of, commanding the strings of his lyre as a king commands his subjects. “I am blinded by love. Any old fool can see that. The council- Hades and Hebe included- will not believe my rose-tinted view for a moment.”

Shamefully, Eros met his eye.

“Mama-”

“I don’t want to hear about Aphrodite, Eros!”

Apollo’s patent melody disappeared. He flung his lyre against the nearest wall in a flurry of desperation. It collided with a horrific twang, descending to lay in a congregation of unattractive fragments on the pink-tinted marble below. Apollo had risen during the chaos. He swiftly moved toward the balcony, where he bent over the ivy-ridden barrier.

On silent wings, Eros approached him.

"Tell me about him." He requested, "I... Hearing love stories restores my faith in the purpose I've been given… And it might help me make up my mind about… Well, everything.”

Apollo's eyes flickered closed. He turned eagerly toward the sun. Despite it's rapid descent, the sunlight showered his face in a golden shroud.

"Hyacinth..." With such reverence he spoke the name.

Mourning, as every bereaved must understand, is not an imperceptible stone in the walk of life, but a detour, branching off into the deep, dark unknown. Apollo crawled aimlessly along this new path, clutching his chest where the aching of his heart teetered on the edge of unbearable.

"He was good." A simple statement to the ear, yet concealing a meaning only decipherable by the beating heart of a man resentful.

"And so innocent." Apollo opened his eyes, gazing with with silent lament upon the moon.

Eros swallowed. Truly, he had not the ability to deny him. Fear or pity, it was of no true consequence.

Masterlist

Ao3

[officialjudgeclaudefrollo]

Every night in every dreams I get, I am seeing a face of an unfamiliar man walking around the corners of my room. Sometimes he's sitting, sometimes he's above my desk.

And most of the time he's naked. Like an angel in its purest form.

His... bare body I am seeing. The entirety of him before my very eyes. A voice so sweet and almost sticky to the feeling that if you dare to take it off, it won't let go.

The moment I close my eyes to sleep, it's the same man.

The same blond man whose name is unknown.

And it's been three months...

Oh, the moments we had, the pleasure he brings the second my body touches the bed.

His moans surrounds my ear, his body feels so real to touch, his smell so unfamiliar yet it feels like a warm embrace.

As the dream progresses through, conversations are held.

“Wh-when are you telling me who you are..?”

He didn't answered.

It was there when the realization had dawned upon me. He wasn't real. He never is. this man right here is just a fragment of my imagination and sinful fantasies.

“I have to go.” He says.

Those four words made me feel worse than ever.

As my silver eyes bore into his blue orbs, I realized that it's a permanent leave.

So I didn't spoke.

I woke up having an intense headache.

As I went throughout the course of my day, a letter in the golden seal of fleur-de-lis arrived, saying my newly deployed captain of the guard called "Phoebus"— what a lame name— is arriving today. I never saw him yet but I couldn't care less.

Very well. Time to get rid of the old one.

The dungeons had been nothing but filled with the previous captain's pained bellowing until a few minutes has passed that the doors had swung open. His armor clinking gently as he walks in with his face still in the shadows.

“Hi. I'm looking for a man named 'Minister Claude Frollo'...?” He spoke.

Well, he sounded familiar... Way too familiar..

“It is I. Step closer. I wanted to see your face.”

“Yes sir.”

My heart dropped, my blood shot cold, my throat went dry, my breath shuddered.

The man from my dream— He's... He's real.

“...Phoebus?”

He only replied with a small smile before uttering a greeting in return. His voice tinged with longing as if we've known each other for a long time in different worlds.

“Hello, Claude.”

[anxious-lee]

|| Quasimodo Tickle Headcanons ||

A/N: didn't actually think anyone would want these but @shyleereading , this one's for you 😤🫶❤️

--------

- 100% lee

- mans does not have the confidence to tickle anyone

- doesn't think much about tickling until Esmerelda comes into his life

- she's always finding new ways to bring out Quasi's spirit and joy for life, this being one of them

- not the fastest at picking up when someone's about to tickle him, but when he does, he'll start backing away, stammering and babbling about the chores that need doing and how he should really go see to them

- VERY VERY ticklish

- as strong as he is, he's got no chance of saving himself from dastardly fingers

- not that he wants to anyway

- secretly loves being tickled

- he wasn't shown any physical affection throughout his life, so tickling, as Esmerelda has shown him, is a fun and kind way to show your love and care for someone

- but again, is very shy about it, so don't expect him to admit it

- most ticklish spots are his ribs and underarms (he SQUEALS)

- his laugh 😭 is 😭 so 😭 pure 😭

- everyone who knows him thinks so

- it's light and high and giggly and agghh 🫠

- THE SNORTS 💘💘💘

- despite what people say, he can't unhear the cruel voice in his head telling him he is ugly and unlovable, and unfortunately that includes a hatred of his own laugh

- when the tickling starts, he'll try to cover his laugh with his hands purely out of instinct, but that never lasts long. eventually the sensation is too much to bear and he has to draw his hands away to protect his spots

- gets the urge to grab the ler's wrists, but he is terrified of his own strength and doesn't want to risk hurting you, so his hands either are shielding tickle spots or hiding his burning red face

- oh you KNOW he's a blusher

- teases work splendidly on him, specifically the compliments (ex: "your laugh is so adorable!" "you're so cute when you blush" etc) *quasi.exe has stopped working*

- can say the t-word just fine normally, but if asked to admit that he's ticklish, his throat goes dry

- when it's Emerelda tickling him, you know damn well she won't let any self-deprecating talk fly. what usually happens is she calls him cute, he denies it, and she (offendedly) tickles him harder until he reluctantly gives in to her

- can easily get overwhelmed with tickles if it's too intense tho, so no restraints ✔️, light pinning ✔️, only one spot at a time ✔️, nothing too crazy

- while Phoebus and Quasi had a rocky start to their relationship at first, they are great friends now, and Phoebus will help Esmerelda wreck him when he gets an opportunity

- what really flusters Quasimodo too is when Esmerelda and Phoebus are holding a conversation AS they're tickling him senseless, as if he's not even there

- when things ACCIDENTALLY tickle him, he'll try his damn hardest to make it appear like nothings wrong. 1) he's embarrassed and 2) he doesn't want to make the situation awkward, since they aren't TRYING to tickle him

- little does he know, he's a terrible liar, and it's amusing watching him to try to behave normally

- does little leg kicks into the floor to keep from hitting the ler but CHRIST does it tickle

- hugging his waist also helps, sort of

- nothing makes Quasi's friends happier than seeing him smiling and happy ❤️

---------

That about does it 👏! Quasimodo is my boi and I wish sincerely that he had more tickle content. This'll have to do

[hephaesta]

Goodbyes...

Question: Last night of the meet. What do you do?

Response: Stay up too late to say bye to everyone.

It's the last night of the meet and you don't care how much sleep you'll miss, you want to say your goodbyes to everyone here.

You follow everyone to the main street and rock back on your heels when people start splitting off. You don't like saying goodbyes and don't like starting conversations but this is a special occasion.

First you intercept Sol and Dessa, arms linked, and thank them for the debate and study session.

Dessa takes your notebook to write down where you can post any information you find for her. Sol, throwing social caution to the wind as usual, pulls you in for a hug tight enough to make your bones creak.

'Find an excuse to see the lighthouse some time,' he says.

'I'll figure something out,' you reply.

You and Phoebus politely ignore each other. You wave at Myrna, even though you've barely spoken.

Hakim lays a hand on your shoulder. 'You're not doing this tomorrow?'

'Yeah!' You shake his hand. 'Thank you for helping me out on that day trip before.'

'Best of luck with your bird's new jacket.'

You admire his effort to be normal about it.

Roz, standing at his side, says, 'Come with us, we can talk somewhere warmer.'

With the street mostly empty now, you follow them back to their inn.

Zulfiya rubs her temples and makes a respectable effort to not excuse herself. You whisper to Reginald to quieten down, and that seems to ease things up.

You don't intend to stay for long but Hettie bullies you into a few rounds of cards. 'For old time's sake,' she declares, even though the only other time you played was a few days ago.

Time flies and you stay much longer than you were planning. With a bruised ego and a yawn, you ask them to pass your regards and thanks on to Ori if they see him.

You sleep well into the morning.

--

It takes longer than you're proud of to leave the warmth of your bed. You lay there, listening to the sounds of Deema shuffling around, then decide to join her.

Deema looks over her shoulder then turns back to the kettle. 'Morning.'

'It sure is.'

'I don't want to make breakfast.'

'Sure thing, Deema.'

[ihrtmichael]

🍂❤️‍🩹💬🫖🧼, any or all of these! For the writing ask :>

thank yew for sending some in omg !!! 🤍💋

🍂: What everyday things help inspire you?

Music usually inspires me! I have an entire playlist for Phoebus/Esmeralda, and sometimes when I listen to it, a song title or a lyric catches my attention, and I run to open my Google Docs. Also, lately the most RANDOM things have been inspiring me. I was SHAVING and was like “omg shaving fic.” I’ve also taken inspiration from other fics (always give credit OFC), shows, conversations I’ve had, pictures on Pinterest, and random textposts on Tumblr. 

❤️‍🩹: What helps you when you lose confidence in your writing abilities?

Bye cuz that’s literally me right now whoops !!! Anyways I find that I always go through this cycle:

Just step away from the Google Doc for the night! Out of sight out of mind fr. 

Read old comments. I must be doing SOMETHING right if someone is moved enough to leave a message!!

Remind myself that EVERYONE probably feels this way at some point. 

Realize that I’ll probably be sad and bored if I just stop. 

Remember that there are only two ways to get better at writing: actually WRITING and reading (real books, not fic!!). 

💬: Do you reread comments?

All. The. Time. I love them, probably to an embarrassing degree. I write for myself (for the most part) but it’s always nice to know that there is SOMEONE out there who enjoyed my silly lil story!! And felt moved enough to leave me a lil message?? That is so sweet like c’monnnnnn !!!!! 

🫖: If you had a tea party with your blorbos you write the most, how would it go?

I write Phoebus and Esmeralda the most, and I feel like the tea party would really boring whoops I’m sorryyyyy 😬I can see myself being super shy with Esmeralda and probably barely saying anything cuz helloooooo it’s Esmeralda! And then shooting daggers at Phoebus and being annoyed at everything he says. And I’d probably be a bitch and sandwich myself between them, but also if we’re talking about Dominik Hees Phoebus then I will GLADLY sit in the middle cuz he is a cutie pie. 

🧼: Do you ever go back to edit fics or chapters after they've already been posted?

ALWAYS. I am my target audience so I reread my stuff all the time and end up catching grammatical errors/other little things I want to change. Sometimes I’ll add or delete an entire sentence or paragraph to make it flow better. What matters is that the tone/subject of the story remains the same!

[greekgodssitcom]

Zeus: Man I have the worst headache

Hephaestus: I can help

[inches towards axe]

Zeus: Hephaestus no

Apollo with popcorn: Hephaestus yes

[zahroreadsthings]

Out again...

Question: Do you go?

Response: Follow the agenda. Doesn't matter what's there.

Deema's comment ruffles your feathers but not enough to change your plans. She's already seen the agenda; it's too petty to say you're suddenly free.

'I'm leaving but not because you told me to,' you say.

You ignore her snort of amusement and take some time to work on your mittens and snack before leaving again. Your notes say the town hall's hosting some kind of quiz, but you know nothing other than that.

The hall is filled with more people than you were expecting, and you're able to recognise more people than you thought you would.

Hakim's deep in a conversation you don't want to interrupt - Lex was very, very correct when they said meets were like being at the kids' table - so you look around until you find Sol.

He's also in conversation, but you at least know him better than anyone else here and you don't want to stand around alone.

Sol briefly interrupts himself mid-sentence to say, 'She's Dessa,' then continues to speak to Dessa about humidity along the coast.

Dessa, to her credit, takes time to make Sol pause and acknowledge you. 'You threw a punch at Phoebus?' she asks.

'That's my reputation now, yeah,' you reply. You don't think you'll ever put this one behind you.

Sol says, 'Yeah, but the quiz is more important right now.'

'Team up with us?' Dessa asks. 'I think everyone else has already grouped up.'

'Sure,' you say. 'But I don't really know what the quiz is about.'

'It's a... cross between a lesson and a debate, as far as I can tell,' says Sol. 'They give us a scenario, we argue the best way to deal with it.'

You've done similar things with Deema. How hard can it be?

[elizabethplaid]

daily notes - sept 28, 2024

Most of what I have to note is just little details that don't amount to big changes. Skin is more sensitive, scrunching up my feet, more shaking and trembling and clenching. Those are bigger details, likely related to the change in my cycle.

When I drank the pumpkin spice eggnog earlier this week, the cinnamon felt painful, lingering in my mouth. I don't usually have this problem with the nog, but it happens sometimes with cinnamon and gingerbread. Dad got regular nog for me after that, without me asking.

A couple nights ago, phone-friend sent a gif of bearded Chris Evans, in reaction to our conversation. That night, I dreamed I was going to a marvel movie and had brought a Hot Toys Captain America figure with me - the version with a beard.

I will say that I have done this exactly twice before. First was with Phoebus and "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", then again with Flynn Rider and "Tangled". Both Disney movies with bearded characters. I am not immune to beards.

As the previews started in the dream, the actor sat next to me. It was a small theater (like the one from my childhood, the one where I saw "Hunchback"), so it wasn't very full and the balcony was very quiet. I dismissed the idea that this was the "real" actor, though he chuckled at my action figure companion. Especially since they both sported beards.

The dream shifted to other dream-nonsense places that became harder to remember after waking. It's still funny to me, because the bearded Captain America was the only other Marvel Hot Toys figures that I still have an interest in. Well, just the head, since I would dress him in casual clothes, like I do with my Loki.

I miss my passion for handling dolls. It's so easy to get overwhelmed, especially with how disorganized my stuff is. But, like Andrea always says, dolls are patient. They will wait for my return and will welcome me back.

_--------

I'm still reading the "Cutting" book in short snippets. I don't pick at my skin as much lately, but I still recognize the compulsion and how it comforts. And there are still times I wake up to find myself picking.

I'm just so tired of slogging through these strong emotions and sensations, at the sacrifice of my joy. I know things must be torn down to rebuild stronger. But my inner-self is struggling. It's reliving these old pains, still having trouble expressing herself, especially being buried so deep.

I'm getting better sleep, longer and deeper, to the point that I'm drooling again. My soul and heart are still weary, in both the short-term and long-term. But if I knew what would help with that, I wouldn't be typing this.

Y'know, this depressed feeling is probably hormones enhancing what I already feel. It just feels worse than usual, and just for a temporary reason. And because it's hormones, there's nt much to be done but wait. Oof.

[vyssims-gameplay]

Day 12 - Beach Day!

prev. [x] next [x]

The Disney Dormmates spent their weekend at the beach! Jasmine, Aladdin, Mulan, and Shang enjoyed building sand sculptures together while Ariel and Prince Eric had taken to the water. Prince Eric proved very popular with the locals too, constantly surrounded by flirty sims. Ariel spent her time with friends of the ocean, speaking and swimming with her dolphin pals. Phoebus tried to find seashells in the sand, but instead only found irritation with Esmeralda. The two had an aggravating conversion that left both of them angry for hours.

Later that evening, as the sun began to set, Shang propositioned Mulan in a tiki hut. It wasn't long before they were discovered by Phoebus and Aladdin, who both joined in on the fun. Jasmine came along for the ride next when she discovered what the four of them were up to, and had a splendid time with Aladdin. We really didn't expect this to go down, but what an ending to a day at the beach!

[sillypiratelife]

Watching the Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame and for some reason I think that Sanji would feel identified and cry so hard with it?

Here's how I see it:

The main villain, Claude Frollo, is the father (figure) of the protagonist. He's a cruel and manipulative man who groomed Quasimodo by making him think that he was a monster and no one could ever love him. Frollo is also a bellicose man who uses his power to bring chaos and horror in the name of "goodness". He doesn't tolerate disobedience and would gladly burn entire cities to get what he wants.

The way Frollo can only see Quasimodo for his usefulness, like a weapon or a soldier.

THE FEAR TO BE PUNISHED. AUCH.

FOR FEELING.

Quasimodo taking to visual representation the feeling of having something wrong with you, of feeling unworthy of love or unlovable, of thinking you're defected while also wishing to escape your confinement.

I personally think Sanji frames his own life like a joke sometimes to deal with the trauma and the abuse of his past. It's fitting then, that the movie is framed in a carnival sense of irony.

I also think that there's an interesting parallel in terms of meta-textuality. The story within the story, the role of the storyteller, those are things you can find both in Sanji's past and in the movie. Sanji and Quasimodo being both popular figures within their own cultures...

Maybe it's something about a man who grew up thinking he was a monster and a mother that got sacrificed while she was trying to protect her son.

Something about the kindness of gargoyles reminding me of the Baratie?? The way they interact is very funny, idk. They're so silly and fight so much and worry and try sooo hard to push Quasimodo to live his life instead of just staying for his job. They want him to go out, to chase his dreams.

Quasimodo and Sanji taking the passive role out of misplaced guilt and sense of loyalty.

All of this completely ignoring the fact that the movie is set in France lol, but okay.

The songs would absolutely get Sanji. He'd deny everything, he'd get defensive, he would do anything to deflect the attention.

There's a whole conversation to be had about the way the Romani people are portrayed and the discrimination they suffer, but for now I'll just say that the strawhat crew would feel identified in them, for several reasons.

The unfairness of the system, the corruption and cruelty, the torture (!!!) and the war and the balance between Phoebus' righteousness and Claude Frollo's rotten heart— you know what I mean.

THE FESTIVAL. THE COURT OF MIRACLES. THE COMPARISON WITH THE WAY OF LIFE OF PIRATES AND THEIR JOY.

But this is about Sanji, right?

He'd fall immediately for Esmeralda. Which is expected. Her character is perfect to depict the relationship between Sanji and women. The edge of (over)sexualization around them mixed with the rejection Quasimodo feels by the way they mock him, mixed even more with the way he's absolutely starving for love and affection. He wants acceptance, kindness and physical intimacy.

Esmeralda really personifies it all. All Sanji wants and needs. She apologizes for her mistake and frees Quasimodo by comparing his situation to her people, the Romani. She fights for him and stands for him against the representative of justice in the city. Bold and powerful and so skilled in a fight. Insane as hell and sooooo beautiful.

She'll be worthy the raging Sanji would get for the way the people wasted food throwing it at Quasimodo.

(depending on who you ship with Sanji, there is a way to compare them to Esmeralda and Phoebus, that I can assure you).

(and depending on how you see Sanji when it comes to gender and sexuality, you can talk about the role of Catholicism and religious guilt and manipulation).

Wow. This post is... long.... very long... Oops.

This is slowly developing into an au in my head. I'll leave this here and let you guys think about the potential of it all.