#We still tell their stories and remember their names

[sunshine6ixty]

i think this is where i've landed with the whole gaiman thing.

some background, i was a gaiman girlie. i paid money to see him speak, i volunteered for a signing, i've taken pictures in front of the world's largest carousel; hugely formative, resonated on a level that nothing else i've encountered did, and so on and so on etcetera. (i got to say "mr gaiman i wouldn't be who i am today without your books" to him, which is a Different Flavored Memory now than it once was, i can tell you)

and like. though his books had a familiar and fond place in my life, i'd already gotten to a point of... nebulous disenchantment? not disgust or anything-- just that nature was taking its course, and i was drifting away. i started reading neil gaiman at age... what, thirteen? maybe eleven? and i read his work consistently for a while. i'm in my thirties now, and i haven't been keeping track, but i've read american gods once a year for at least the past five years. it was just... kinda time, in a way. he seemed like he'd said what he had to say, and was coasting in a perpetual victory lap, which i was fine with. i'd just... keep picking at the gaiman books again when i was bored.

and i remember thinking, around when i first noticed this distance i'd been feeling, that i was just... running dry. things felt stale and i didn't know where to look to change that.

and then this all happened.

and all of a sudden, my perception of this person has been wrenched into a completely new perspective. just, twisted sideways, seams popping, eyes bugging, can't-unbreak-the-action-figure wrenched. the spell is broken, in an ironically gaiman-esque way, and this mythic figure (~*nEIL GAIman*~) is revealed to be just a shitty, spoiled brat of a complete fucking monster.

i've read the article, i've heard the stories about how weird he was for doctor who, i've seen not-unreasonable allegations of plagarism floating around-- suffice it to say, he's just a shit of a dude. he's... not special. not really. he's a good writer who said one thing with his work, and lived another. who saw something that resonated, and put his name on it. who said something that we felt, and said he gave it to us.

and i realized, from this angle, that the reason i was feeling so dried out was likely because neil gaiman (some might say purposefully) took all the fucking air out of the room. like, nobody was neil gaiman, right, so what right could you have to try to do a neil gaiman? he was the only gaiman. the apex of gaiman. peak gaiman. the mystical, profound, monotheistic god of dark poetic storytelling.

but like. he wasn't. it turns out, he was just a shitty dude. magic or no, he was mostly just entitled.

and i think that sort of broke something in me. if the curtain was pulled back and there was just a weird, shitty little dude in there, then what the fuck have i been doing? in an... i-should-probably-talk-to-a-therapist-about-this sort of way, neil gaiman kept me from writing! like-- i was a kid who took pictures of graves at age five, who made up a story about a child bricked up in the school belltower who's ghost still wandered the halls (and published it in the school newspaper, next to what flavor milk does mrs k's 5th grade class prefer), who believed there was a door to another world beneath their neighbor's ornamental bush, who mapped the lost city (/junk dump) in the open space drainage ditch! this is the stuff i did before i knew gaiman! i liked gaiman because i was into this stuff already, and then after a while, without me really noticing it, neil gaiman became this stuff. the only source of it. the only rightful creator of a gaiman.

and like... if you know you can't do it like neil gaiman, because he's him and you're not, you kind of start despairing before you even begin, right?

fuck that.

i think, what i can take away from the whole debacle is this: it's time for all of us who have ever felt like this to do a gaiman.

... by which i mean, make our art. not the other stuff.

you have every right to be as audacious as neil gaiman with your art. take it as seriously, tell everyone it's as important. put that thing down on paper; the thing you otherwise wouldn't.

look, chances are, you're actually a better person than neil gaiman. he sucks. he was a skilled craftsman, but skill can be learned. what he did was practice and talk himself up. and there is nothing magical about neil gaiman that hasn't also run beneath our fingertips.

there was never anything unique about ~*neiLGAiman*~. not really. neil just made him up to be the special-est most darkest and dreamiest boy there ever was, and it was a fucking lie, and its insidious the degree to which it ate an entire genre.

because, honestly? i want to read more shit like neil gaiman! i've been hungry for more of what he said was solely his for so fucking long! i want to see what weird, fever-dream stories we've all been sitting on because he ate the entire ecosystem! i want to read all of the beautiful, terrible, fucked-up magical things from everyone that never saw the light of day because neil was too busy basking in it!

and now that the mask is off, it's fucking time. i'm going to take my shit back, neil. fuck you.

in a weird, fucked-up way, what a relief.

[eshithepetty]

So. It's been said before that Mob has this compulsive thing where he looks at his hand when he's thinking about his powers. But I've wanted for a While now to compile exactly when and how much he does this, so!! Here's exactly a post for that ^^

Starting with the very 1st episode of Season 1, here he looks at his hand while Reigen's spiel about him not using his powers to use against others plays in his head. At this point in the story, we don't really understand the full gravity of these words, and what they mean to Mob - really, they sound more like the obvious usual advice that a psychic mentor would give. But from Mob's percentage rising (tho most people won't know what the percentage means at this point in the story), as well as him generally sitting on this advice, we can tell that a nerve has been struck.

Then comes season 1 episode 3. This is technically the same exact shot, but I still decided to include it both because it's still technically a different instance, and also, because of the new information we learn in this episode, we can look at this shot with a different context. Namely, that we now know what Mob's percentage means, and that his powers are connected to his emotions, which is why he stifles both in fear of hurting people as Reigen warned him of. It turns from impersonal advice to a Very personal and real concern. Though the biggest reason for why he fears his powers is still unknown at this point... (though we are made aware of the other reason - fear of social ostracization).

Ough... here comes season 1 episode 5. The shot of him looking at his hand, the one that makes it abundantly clear exactly what he is imagining and thinking back to when he does this. He's remembering the literal blood on his hands... fuck me.

Then are these shots from the same episode. The hands are covered by a towel, so this one is less obvious, but by his sight line and the conversation that he just had with Ritsu - about the incident, and what he did to him - it's obvious that's where his eyes are set. And now compared to episode 3, we know exactly why he hates and fears his powers so much. Why he thinks these hands are dangerous...

Season 1 episode 10, another repeat shot - this time from the psychically induced flashback he suffers at the hands of Muto. I still think the 100% rejection scene is so underrated - imagine being forced to relive the most traumatic event of your life, especially considering he usually avoids thinking about it.. god, the way he just screams and sobs is so upsetting.. though I do wonder what exactly Muto saw when Mob reversed the illusion on him.

This one's from season 1 episode 11, and it's a lot more innocuous than the rest - he's just checking that his psychic powers indeed don't work in this cursed room. But it's still him looking at his hand and thinking about his powers, so I decided to include it. (though I will say, there is a fanfic opportunity somewhere in here about combining the fact that, apparently, there exist curses that can surpress psychic powers, and Mob's desire to do just that... maybe one day I will get to it)

Now we jump to season 2! Episode 3. God, this is still one of the most intriguing scenes of this show to me... here, along with the fear of potentially having to hurt his clients, Mob is thinking a lot of things - among them, for the first time considering not only that he can hurt innocent people with these hands, but also innocent spirits. And the fact that he had been exorcising spirits, essentially killing these beings that are as close to him as living humans are, for years... I just love this episode. And as one commenter on Youtube pointed out, in season 2 episode 1, he made a promise to himself to consider his feelings more - and his feelings are innately tied to his powers. Thus, opening his eyes to his feelings also made him open his mind to the ethics of how he is using his powers, and whether following Reigen along on all these jobs without thought is truly what he should be doing. This is a big part of why I fully support him deciding to not work for Reigen post-finale - he needs to figure out how he feels about his powers without using them as tools to get profit (well. Not so much profit for him, and there's certainly value he gained from this job besides that - such as being able to at least use and express his powers somewhat, along with the relationship he gained with Reigen - but point still stands. It's healthy for him to be able to think these things through without that). Plus, I personally like to imagine he grows more sympathetic to spirits as he grows up and isn't anymore too keen on him destroying them being his job. But ramble aside...

Here comes mogami arc! Season 2 episode 5. As the subtitles say, in contrast to all other times he's been agonising over being too powerful, here, he's regretful over not being strong enough (plus, I like how Mogami has basically redefined what strength means for Mob in this fabricated world. Where in the real one, strength for Mob means sticking it to your morals and being able to resolve things peacefully, here it's... kinda the opposite..). Also, what's interesting here is that he still looks to his hand here, despite having all his memories of his powers and the incident erased from his mind. I guess it's just that deep-seated...

Same episode. This one is kind of debatable, but he certainly looks like he's rising his hand to look at it. Thus, I'm including it. Plus, it has thematic relevance to the incident. As he is saying here, in this world, he truly hasn't done anything malicious or dangerous that could warrant people treating him as the enemy, yet here they are. I could imagine, that, somewhere in the back of his mind, he is feeling like he's forgetting something...

Season 2 episode 10. Here he just woke up and immediately whooped ass with his powers. Also more innocuous, he's just confused, but still looking at his hand, so. Here it remains.

Season 2 episode 12 - this one's also kind of a oddball, since for once, he's not really thinking about his powers, but rather Serizawa's, and what they reveal about the man's feelings- but I thought it was close enough at him looking at his hand. Besides, I think it's sweet that this is one of the first times he uses his powers to empathise, to connect with someone (we see him do so again while trying to take in Toichiro's powers, as well as in the Alien arc, notably), so I'm including it for its thematic relevance.

Now onto season 3 episode 1! There's a really good post explaining this one (as well as the ghost family scene instance) here, but to summarise, here, Mob is thinking back to his powers and instances of him hurting people - making mistakes - and how he never learns. Never changes. Not enough... just like with the 100% sadness scene, it's just so sad that he thinks this one instance of his powers getting the best of him has ruined him for life. That he can't afford to make mistakes... buddy, you're 14 years old. A child. Making mistakes is part of growing up, part of being human :( But I'm guesing he doesn't always see himself as fully human does he ...

And then. Season 3 episode 10. Ough... This is just all his worst fears becoming reality. He's hurt Hanazawa, again. He's hurting his loved ones, again. He's monstrous and dangerous, again... All these years of repression have just led him back to square one and below - to bloodied hands once more. But this was inevitable. He couldn't have continued looking at those hands and fearing them.. he needed to face himself. Look that trauma in the eyes. And say: that's not all I am. I did that, those hands are mine, I am capable of hurting, but it's not all I am. I am capable of changing.... and he does!! Reverting once doesn't erase all the good he has achieved and all the growth he has experienced. But fact remains, that before you heal the wound you heal the wound, you need to clean it first. And it will hurt... but he gets there. He gets there.

So to finish on a lighter note! The ending of season 3!! This one makes me so happy, because, as opposed to all these other scenes where he's looking to his hand with turmoil and anguish in his heart, here, it's the opposite! He's smiling!! He's confident!! He's becoming surer of himself every day!!! He no longer sees his powers as a curse!!!! It's a promise, that eventually, he manages to deal with all the trauma and achieve a happy ending. It's just his hand, and his hands can hold instead of harm. It's just so sweet. I love him and his character development so, so much.... <3

In conclusion: he looks at his hand a total of 14 times - 12, if we exclude repeat shots. And I just think it's fascinating, how we can follow his development throughout these instances. So I hope that this was interesting for you to read as well, and that you all have good days out there <3 Toodles :)

[starberry-cupcake]

hello!! I'm back!!! *sitcom studio cheer sound*

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag for all the recaps

last recap I said Something was happening and it has!! we have a puppy now!!! her name is Dana (after Scully)!! this is her!!!

DAY TWO (one of the things mentioned is that honesty's job goes terribly wrong and I feel so bad because I forgot to point it out in my recap, even if it was something that looked sus af to begin with and I was concerned when I read about it)

CHAPTER 7 (second house skull, after pyrrha probably)

nona wakes up abruptly

someone told me in the last recaps that the bible chapters are when nona is sleeping, which I hadn't put together at all and I don't know if I should have or if I missed something important

in any case, nona starts telling camilla what she dreamt, which is not what was in the bible chapter, so idk what's going on with that

maybe the bible thing is what harrow is seeing and the dreams are what an amnesiac gideon is seeing????

we don't know yet

she's describing being with the "other person" who is touching her hands but they're not hers

"I'm touching my own hands but they aren't mine"

which is another one on the tally for the "this is gideon in harrow's body" theory

they're surrounded by red eyes in the darkness and she's very hungry

and they're holding hands

that's the dream

she was startled awake because camilla threw a sponge at her

nona freaked the hell out about that

remember when harrow was woken up by og!gideon trying to murder her in cold blood every morning? those were simpler times

also, nona is about to put on the tshirt from the cover which took me 25 years and @lady-harrowhark pointing it out to notice it was a burger

camilla asks her about the hands and nona says she didn't like them

and that she doesn't like having hands????

she's a bit infuriating sometimes ngl

I don't know what to do with this information

pyrrha talks about people becoming violent because shit is getting real

and she prepares some mush for them to eat at breakfast

she's also worried about camilla's soul (and life) due to whatever it is they're doing on the sites

palmolive, I swear to whatever god of your choosing

(that isn't dr reverend emperor john asshat)

if something happens to camilla on your watch

I'm gonna chase your nerdy ass all the way to your river loft and back

when they start talking about nona wanting a "six months alive" gift, pyrrha tells camilla how depressing and non-gift-giving the ninth house is

which she visited when anastasia got settled

nice to know things in the ninth never ever changed

they did have a gift, though

the gift of ortus's poetry

nona wants differently colored hair ties, to not push too far into pyrrha's limited budget

we'll see if we make it to the birthday, there's a countdown going on

when nona gets to school, honesty has a punch in the eye and she has to help him with it until teacher angel comes in

teacher angel is still looking very sus, with clothes in disarray and also the same ones from the previous day

hot sauce also comes in afterwards, which makes me think she might have been following teacher angel

she's on the case

hot sauce gets very upset asking honesty who punched him in the face

everyone's very upset and tense, except for kevin who's eating peacefully

we love kevin

so, honesty tells the story and starts from the worst place imaginable to explain something that happened with accuracy

which is the end

but that's fine, because the tension of the story is in the middle, so we get the narrative effect

we appreciate that

he's got a podcast in another life

honesty was about to go to the tunnel job but, turns out, it wasn't a tunnel job

it was actually a mad max job

and they get cocky and do more than they were planning to, which is never a good idea

so, by the third attempt, the guy who's been doing the dropping-in maneuver gets very spooked by what he finds in there

which is a lot of people with white eyes who look directly at him when he shows up

which prompts militia trucks to pull them over

so honesty runs the fuck out of there and gets smashed into a pole

depiction of honesty, ruby and born in the morning after the incident, had they been together:

honesty gets saved and cared for by some homeless folk

after his face got smashed into the pole

and he clarifies they were trying to steal from a convoy

which he would have said no to had he known the job before being taken to do it

he asks hot sauce to protect him

which hot sauce agrees to, but I think this is too much work for one hot sauce alone, especially if she's keeping an eye on everything else

nona offers her help, but is rejected, on account of being dumb

I wonder if nona will somewhat reveal her powers of healing protecting these kids at some point

OH, ALSO

teacher angel sus person mentioned not being technically a doctor but getting a crash course in triage

which, continues to be sus behavior

is teacher angel helping with the fights? with war? with secret confrontations?

we'll have to wait and see!!

THAT'S IT FOR NOW!! I haven't had a lot of time to read and recap and I'm currently falling asleep as we speak, so sorry for such a short one this time!!! ♥

[anitalianfrie]

er salto de a quaja nun funziona - snippet

Diggianini, teen parents au, ~600 words

When Diggia goes to get Francesca, there's something weird going on. 

The exchange happens in the parking lot near her school. Him and Enea exchange a few words - they see each other enough as it is, and they wouldn't have much to say in general, but all the Francesca matter in particular gets dealt with in an acrimonious silence, that sticks on the skin. 

Diggia could get Francesca straight from school, but there's something about delegations and names and, moral of the story, he can't. He writes a mental note, destined to disappear from his mind in less than an hour, to talk to Enea about it. 

Francesca’s hand is small in his own, while they walk to the car and then later, home. Small fingers of a child, delicate, and Diggia remember that cold afternoon of January when he cradled her in his arms for the first time, a small small bundle of blankets and tiny limbs that he could barely distinguish from the tears misting up his eyes, Enea exhausted on the bed. 

His child. 

Francesca is uncharacteristically silent the whole way. Diggia doesn't see his daughter enough, and he knows it, but he also knows that Francesca in never silent, and that she talks, and talks, and talks, screams and yells and giggles and calls him a thousand times with her small voice, “papi, papi, papi”. Papi look. Today Francesca looks at the ground instead, and doesn't say a word. 

She gets her shoes off and leaves them in the entryway and he gets her jacket and takes it off, an automatic and practiced gesture. Francesca doesn't move an inch. 

“Amore de papà, what's going on?”

Francesca shakes her head.

“Nothing.”

“It's not nothing, I can see it”

Francesca remains silent for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Papà?” she asks, and her voice is as small as a cheep. 

“What is it lupè?”

“Are you my real dad? Because Anna has two dad but she says it in school and she makes two gifts [*] and I make only one and I can't say that you're my dad I can just talk about babbo and grandma always talks about mum. But do I have a mum? And so you're not my dad?"

[* in Italy in elementary school kids make little gifts for their parents for mother's and father's day. Francesca is referring to them]

Diggia can feel the ground disappearing from under his feet at his daughter's words, a hard knot that stops in his throat like a nutshell, a bite gone the wrong way. 

Because how do you explain to your seven years old daughter that when you were seventeen you fucked up and that you were scared to death and that you didn't know what to do, and what homophobia is. 

Diggia gets her in his arms, his daughter, his own blood, and he doesn't know what to say. He wishes he could tighten the grip and never let her go. 

“Between me and babbo it's complicated, because everyone knows us right? You know they always stop babbo on the streets. So we don't say it, but you're one hundred percent my daughter.”

“Alright?"

Francesca nods again, but doesn't look him in the eyes, and Diggia knows he hasn't convinced her. But she hugs him tight, and hides her head in the crook of his neck like she did when she was all tiny and small and didn't weight anything and Diggia had to always carry her in her arms to not forget her around. 

“Come on. Now some TV?”

“I should do my homework…” says Francesca, voice still thin. 

“What homework and homework, who tells you these things your dad? Who never studied anything? No, we do homeworks tomorrow. Today, TV”

Francesca hides in his neck again and giggles, and hearing her high-pitched child laugh Diggia thinks that, in the end, he did do something right with her. 

[dinglhoppr]

The young woman named Ruby returns & asks Ariel what she’d like to order. Ariel asks for the grilled cheese sandwich & a glass of water to drink. Eric’s voice is playful as he teases her, & she feels herself relax. For a moment it feels like being with the old Eric again, the Eric who still had his memories.

She did always enjoy listening to him, & she could listen to him for hours, whether he was reading to her or telling her stories about the adventures he’d had on his travels. But if he thought there had been nothing else to do in the library except read, she’s prepared to prove him wrong.

“Oh, no! We did more than just read.” Her face is bright as she beams at him. “Your library wasn’t just a place for books. It’s where you kept all the treasures you’d bring back from your trips. It was overflowing with all kinds of things from different places! You’d tell me stories about your collection and the different places you’d been. It was one of the things we had in common.”

Her voice falters & she hesitates, the smile slipping from her face. “I mean, before . . . ” Her voice comes out softer. Her brown eyes fall to the menu still lying between them. “We both liked collecting things. And . . . exploring new places.” She’s not even sure if he still likes either of those things. He couldn’t remember back when he did, after all. And now apparently the mysterious curse that had stolen his memories had also made him afraid of the sea. She runs her fingers over the smooth menu just for something to do as she waits for his response.

it  was  evident  to  him  from  ariel's  response  that  he  probably  offered  up  too  much  information  again.  he  had  a  habit  of  doing  that.  it  often  slipped  his  mind  that  not  everyone  cared  to  learn  as  much  as  he  did.  or  discover  as  much  about  something  as  he  did.  but  the  disoriented  and  flustered  look  she  wore  thankfully  didn't  last  long.  that  bright  smile  of  hers  reappearing  when  he  mentioned  the  dark  and  dusty  place  he'd  pictured.  that  smile  could  surely  light  up  such  a  place.  

from  the  sound  of  it  she  did  know  the  place  too.  she  said  they'd  spent  hours  in  there  which  meant  she  must  have  known  it  well.  a  revelation  that  was  both  strange  and  comforting,  but  also  added  to  his  confusion  too.  if  they'd  both  spent  so  much  time  there,  why  didn't  he  remember  more  about  it?  and  why  had  she  said  'your  library'?  before  he  has  the  chance  to  question  her  further,  ask  for  clarification,  ruby  returns  to  their  table  to  take  ariel's  order  and  eric  is  thankful  for  the  interruption,  even  if  it  is  brief.  it  gives  him  a  moment  to  compose  his  thoughts.  figure  out  where  to  go  from  here.  

with  the  order  taken  and  ruby  heading  back  to  the  kitchen  with  it,  eric's  attention  returns  to  ariel  and  the  menu  he'd  asked  ruby  to  leave  with  them,  in  case  ariel  had  wanted  to  do  a  little  more  reading.  she  hadn't  given  him  too  much  new  information,  but  what  she  had  given  him  was  something.  they  had  spent  hours  in  the  evenings  in  his  library  reading  together.  but  she  was  being  weirdly  cryptic  about  where  he  lived.  

"so. . ."  he  starts.  an  eyebrow  quirking  in  her  direction,  the  slight  hint  of  a  playful  smirk  tugging  at  the  corner  of  his  lips.  "you  would  just  listen  to  me  read  to  you. . .  for  hours.  you  either  really  like  the  sound  of  my  voice  or  there  was  really  nothing  more  interesting  to  do. . .  you  said  it  was  a  library?  hm,  i  guess  there  wouldn't  be  if  you  don't  know  how  to  read. would there?" 

[gingermintpepper]

hi I love your tags so so much! they were so sweet and so interesting and creative and the whole Aphrodite type of beauty thing sounds really interesting do you have any articles and recommendations to read further into it??

-hogoflight

Hello my fine feathered (I am assuming possession of feathers if you are, indeed, capable of flight) @hogoflight! I'm always always happy to hear that people appreciate my frenzied rambling in the tags :D! I have a lot of articles and recommendations :D!! Ancient Greek notions of beauty and representations of it in their art and sculptures is a pretty well studied topic! There isn't any way for us now to know definitively what the beauty standard was (it varied widely from region to region and culture to culture after all) but here are a couple of my favourite reads about Aphrodite and what her representations tell us about idealised beauty!

Probably the most empirically extensive one I can list is Krönström's thesis which compares statues of Aphrodite and literary text referring to both the goddess and mortal women to determine physical ideals for women in five specific eras of Grecian antiquity. Including measurements of the statues there are many descriptions of Aphrodite as 'curvy' with a 'voluptuous figure' and with 'ample buttocks and bosom'.

"When the beauty traits are described in the texts, they are never extreme or anything that could not be found in normal people just that they are more beautiful in every aspect. Furthermore, the sculptures’ physical forms look healthy, they are tall and have distinct curves. Great examples of this are the Knida sculpture and de Milo (the Melian) sculpture."

Of course, these images are still idealised, and there was still a concept such as 'too fat' or 'too skinny' found in written records (and this thesis even includes analysis of pornographic writings and descriptions of the fashion and stylings of pubic hair of women from different regions!!) but from an interpretational standpoint? There is absolutely no reason why these can't refer to a fuller figure. Height was also a very important factor after all and over the course of many eras, it seems like being well proportioned in addition to the length and appearance of one's hair were the most important factors (and, like Apollo, greater beauty was given to those with curlier hair)

Mireille M. Lee's 'Other Ways of Seeing' essay which talks about the forgotten female viewers of Knidian Aphrodite which is also extremely illuminating on how Aphroditic sexuality and sensuality was perceived totally differently from the well documented male voyeuristic gaze (which was overly preoccupied with the statue's nakedness and therefore over-sensationalised the statue's physical appearance) vs women's perspective on the statue which is more centered on the beauty of simplicity in Aphrodite's garment and decoration and in her power and ability to captivate both in her finery and without it. I think it's especially useful in exploring the importance of finery, jewellry and adornment in representations of Aphroditic beauty.

"Some of the small-scale copies are heavily jeweled, especially those from the eastern Mediterranean, for example the Hellenistic gilded terracotta statuette in the Çanakkale Museum (Fig. 5) in which the goddess wears, in addition to the armband on her (right) arm, the following: a necklace with multiple pendants; cross-bands extending over both shoulders and hips, with a cascading pendant in the center; a coiled snake armband on the left arm and another snake on her left thigh, and a twisted anklet on her right leg. (The left leg has been restored, and might also have featured an anklet.)"

"Jewelry is especially associated with Aphrodite in Greek literature. As seen above, in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, the goddess adorns herself with gold jewelry, dress-pins, and earrings in the shape of flowers (162–3)..."

Finally, and to me, the most important one in the argument for an interpretation of Hyacinthus as fat, beautiful and fundamentally Aphroditic comes from Brilmayer's brilliant brilliant thesis done on Aphrodite's work and influence in Archaic Greek Poetry which does away with all of that masculine preoccupation with physical proportion, measurement and bodily ideals for a focus on a Sapphic Aphroditic ideal centered in clothing, ornamentation and, most importantly cunning as symbols of Aphrodite and ultimately a feminine idealised form of beauty. This paper also discusses Pandora and Helen in these terms and it is just kind of a wonderful read tbh.

"Combining Homeric and Hesiodic elements with her own ideas, she [Sappho] alters the way female beauty is viewed. For example, the Homeric war chariot – a symbol of male, military prowess - comes to symbolise the totality of Aphrodite’s power uniting in itself male and female qualities. Having addressed the concept of beauty directly, Sappho then concludes that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. With the help of Helen of Troy and her beloved Anaktoria, Sappho sets out to reinvent the concept of female beauty as a godlike, subjective quality that may be expressed in many ways, yet remains inspired by Aphrodite."

The conclusion to all of this of course is that Aphroditic ideal beauty is much more fluid compared to its stricter Apolline masculine standard. The nuances and understandings of both are of course, constantly being studied, analysed and scrutinised but really, if Dionysus who was both bearded and clean shorn, effeminate, birthed and rebirthed (and twice gestated!) and strongly associated with vegetation can be popularly portrayed as fat and handsome, why can't Hyacinthus?!

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[kissingarthurclaus]

Happy Mexican heritage day, by the way! Thanks to my whitewashed-ass mom I didn't grow up with that much of the culture, but I'm proud to be a part of it nonetheless!! 💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖🇲🇽💖

To celebrate I'm gonna imagine showing my f/os things from Mexican culture where applicable > u <

[bayofwolves]

thinking about writing a little something in the original universe about abeke's adult life where she continues to deal with her grief over shane, who really did die in the burning tide. jumping around to different time periods: she's the new face of greencloak leadership, she's married (but her husband notably doesn't make an appearance), she has a daughter. her life is a dream. but with each of these milestones, she is reminded of shane. the person she might have had this life with if things had been different.

i don't usually like to delve into canon past the return because thinking about shane's death makes me feel sick to my stomach. but this is too good and beautiful and tragic of an idea to pass up.

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about that time in our first campaign my character's dad (adoptive, a very important baron) almost died.

Apparently, he was supposed to. He was not supposed to survive contact with the lich. Don't even ask me how or why we got to the lich, genuinely all I remember is panicking because all of a sudden he had like five hit points and as the party schemer I had two thoughts that erased my awareness of everything else: (1) MY FUCKING DAD (2) THIS LICH IS GOING TO KILL US.

See, my job is finding ways to get us out of things, and as a wizard, I was well equipped to handle that. Except thought one, "MY FUCKING DAD," took priority over EVERYTHING ELSE. My little wizard was orphaned and down his only brother. This guy was all he had. His whole world. World's #1 dad.

... And the lich almost one shot him. He was collapsed on the ground and struggling for breath. This did not register as a cinematic moment to me because I was PANICKING. We roll initiative.

The lich rolls highest. I'm frantically looking through my notes to see what's available to me. Tries to kill me, too. Counterspell.

My turn. Throwing ALL CAUTION to the wind, plan only vaguely half formed, I run up to the baron and tell the DM I'm going to drag him back to the party.

"Your speed is halved from carrying him. You can't make it in 15 feet."

There's dead silence. Everyone is waiting for my response. Seconds of silence. "What are you going to do?" (DM speak for "please hurry up.")

"... I'm a tabaxi. I can make it in 30."

I double my movement speed and drag him back there anyway, to the confused relief of the party. Our sponsor (MY FUCKING DAD) is safe for right this second, but how are we going to fight a LICH?

"Anything else?"

"... I have a scroll of teleport in my bag. And I'm within 10 feet of everyone." Most importantly, I'd DUCKED BEHIND A WALL OF BARRELS AND CRATES so the motherfucker couldn't see me to counterspell.

There's dead silence for a few moments. The voice chat proceeds to blast my eardrums with excited cheering and laughing. The DM and I both pull up the spell. "Roll for it. Where are you going?"

"Home."

I roll a 99. We vanish from the lich's lair and are deposited, battered, bleeding, without guidance, in the charred, crumbled ruins of what had been the baron and I's residence. (It had not been that way until very recently. It was news to me.) There's relieved silence. There's an emotional reunion in what remains of our living room. I cast Tiny Hut in a defensible corner of the ruins after we all chat and we get what sleep we can.

(The DM would later confess that the baron wasn't supposed to survive and he had to change his plans now lol. We were supposed to be cut off from all resources at that point. My dad showed up in the final fight since he'd survived TWO murder attempts [ig the BBEG was the third lmao] and, well. I schemed then, too.)

[infizero]

currently having a hamilton moment .

[saturnsuv]

update <3

[acircusfullofdemons]

rip 2 my irl friends who gotta deal with me infodumping to them abt my paracosms now lol

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

normal procedure

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!, dubcon, gynecologist!rafe, patient!reader, virgin!reader, gyno exam, fingering, p in v sex, protected sex

a/n: we can pretend that this is a roleplay scenario because obviously no real doctor would do this, lets all take a breath and remember this is fanFICTION aka not real or an endorsement by me (or my readers) of anything in this story

“oh, um-” you gulp, blinking as the fluorescent lights shine down on you.

“your feet ma’am.” he repeats, tapping the stirrups. you lift your legs, well aware that you're lacking any sort of underwear underneath your hospital gown.

your doctor secures your legs in the straps before his eyes drift to your center, now on display with your parted thighs.

you gasp and pull your gown down to somewhat cover yourself.

“ma’am, i assure you this is all part of the normal exam.”

“i-i-” you swallow thickly, blinking again, swearing the lights are only getting brighter, hotter, as a bead of sweat forms and falls on your forehead. “what's your name?”

“im doctor rafe cameron. certified gynecologist. you can just call me rafe though.” he explains softly. “and there is no need to be nervous.”

“okay… how long have you been a gynecologist?”

“asking all these questions is just going to delay what we need to get done.” rafe says. “shall we begin?”

“i suppose.” you nod. you know usually girls wait until after they have sex for the first time to visit, but with your twenty first birthday coming up as still a virgin, you decided you might as well stop delaying the inevitable.

“im just going to lift your gown.” rafes hands are slow and gentle as he brings the hem up, revealing your bare cunt to him.

“does it all… look okay?” you question. 

“you look perfect.” rafe says, his voice lowering in tone as he reaches for his gloves, pulling the latex over his long, slender fingers.

“okay.” you nod. surely a doctor would know. it lessens your anxiety the tiniest bit.

“im going to touch you now, okay?” rafe looks up at you, and his eye contact holds you still, blue eyes gleaming with intensity as they look into your brown ones.

“y/f/n?” 

“oh, yes.” you nod quickly. “yes, that's fine.”

rafe hums, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. “so if i read your chart correctly, you haven't had sex yet?”

“no, s-sir.” you shake your head, eyes moving to the ceiling to avoid that captivating gaze, even if the fluorescents make your eyes hurt.

rafe mutters something under his breath, but you're sure your ears are just playing tricks on you. no way he would whisper “perfect” to himself. surely he's a professional.

rafe lays two fingers on your inner thigh and your entire body jolts, the gloves cold against your bare skin.

“it's okay.” rafes other hand rests on your thigh, rubbing gently with his thumb. “im going to begin the exam, if you feel any discomfort at any point just tell me.”

“okay.” you nod, and you swear despite the chilly gloves, his touch leaves a trail of fire as he brings his two fingers closer to your pussy, before suddenly swiping through your folds.

“oh!” you squeal out, hips lifting slightly before pushing back down.

“it's a normal bodily reaction.” rafe assures you before you can even feel embarrassment.

rafes fingers swipe through again, but at least you're expecting it this time. you blink quickly, trying to keep yourself calm as his other hand moves to join in examining your cunt.

“just going to use my thumbs to look around. let me know if it gets to be too much.”

just as rafe said, his thumbs begin to pull and poke at your skin. you move your gaze from the ceiling back down to rafe, seeing the same intensity in his eyes but now focused on your pussy.

“im going to touch you some place that may make you feel… fervent. please know that any reaction your body may have is normal and all part of the exam.” rafe places his thumb directly over your bud, and your body lights up like a firework.

you don't even realize you're moaning until the side of rafes mouth quirks up again into that signature smirk.

“oh!” you squeal again. “oh my god, im so sorry.”

“it's all normal.” rafe assures you. he gives you a moment to get used to the pressure on your clit, simply touching it with the pad of his thumb before he begins to swipe over it, stimulating your clit while his eyes move back and forth between your pussy and your face contorted in pleasure.

“is this supposed to feel so good?” you question. you didn't do much research on what actually happens when you get in the gynecologists chair, but you swear what you've heard from friends is that the exam isn't comfortable.

“yes.” rafe says simply, and you have no reason to not take his word as truth. “my thumb is going to stay there as i insert a finger.”

you nod, glad to have the distraction of his thumb moving around your clit, even if your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you grow wetter.

“hm, looks like i won't need any external lubricant.” rafe looks up at you. “sometimes i have to with virgins. but your pussy is perfect.”

“thank you?” your thought process is quickly shut off as rafes finger prods at your entrance, getting his gloves significantly wet.

“sorry if this is cold, but i have a feeling you'll warm me up quickly.” rafe pushes his finger inside slowly, and you have to tilt your head back and squeeze your eyes closed to keep more sounds from coming out of your mouth.

“does it all feel normal?” you're well aware at your voice must sound strained as rafes finger rubs against your inner walls.

“yes.” rafe says, this time his voice having an air of shakiness to it. “you're tight, but it's to be expected from a virgin.”

“s-sorry about that.” you can't tell if rafes emphasis on the word is negative or positive. “i didn't see myself losing it anytime soon so i scheduled my appointment.”

“and why is that darling?” rafe questions, his voice a purr as he begins to move his finger in and out in slow strokes.

“why am i a virgin? uhh…” you trail off. “i guess just haven't found the right guy yet.”

in truth, the whole idea of sex gets you nervous. hopefully after getting assurances that everything works okay down there, it'll be one less thing to be anxious about.

“we can take care of that today if you'd like.”

the thumb stroking over your clit flicks upward suddenly, making your hips jump up, legs straining in their spread position.

“what do you mean?” you ask, feeling and hearing rafes finger speed up, your slickness making it easier and easier for him to move.

“i can take your virginity. it's part of my duties as your doctor. only if you'd like, it's an optional part of the exam.”

“you mean like… insert something in me?”

“yes, my cock.” rafe smirks as he pulls his finger out, tapping against your wetness and letting the sound spread through the exam room.

“oh!” you look at rafe to make sure he's serious, but his expression doesn't convey any sort of joking around. “gynecologists do that?”

“for our virgin patients if they'd like. id wear a condom of course and take your virginity so it's less of an ordeal for you. and i can assure everything is working fine.”

“and by everything you mean…”

“making you cum.” rafes thumb applies a bit more pressure to your clit. “although you're already not far off, are you?”

“wouldn't know.” you can feel something growing in the pit of your stomach, an unfamiliar feeling you can't quite place.

“what do you say y/f/n?”

“s-sure.” you nod. “if this is all normal, i guess it's fine.”

“great.” rafe smiles, before looking down at your cunt. “ill have to work two fingers into you before fu- helping you lose your virginity.” he explains.

thankfully, his thumb keeps tapping and pressing down on your sensitive bud as a second finger lathers itself in your wetness, sliding through your folds before dipping into your cunt.

his finger are barely an inch inside before they're back out. “you'll have to excuse me for going one handed for a second.”

rafes thumb moves away from your clit, and you're about to cry out for more, immediately missing the feeling, when rafes mouth drops and his tongue takes its place.

“doctor!” you shout.

“all normal.” rafe assures you, his lips already shining with your juices. “taste is an important part of the exam too. and you're very sweet.”

you watch as rafes head dips again, his mouth working on your cunt as his two fingers that you hadn't even realized have been pushed inside of you begin to move.

rafes free hand reaches for his pants, pushing them down to get his already hard cock out. he begins to stroke as his tongue licks at your clit, fingers opening you up.

you feel another jolt of pressure when his fingers spread to scissor and close, scissor and close, working your gummy walls open for him.

rafe presses a series of wet, sloppy kisses over your cunt before restraining himself and pulling back, licking greedily over his lips to not waste your taste.

“are you ready?” rafe asks, reaching into a drawer to get a condom.

“yes.” you nod quickly. you're more than desperate now for his cock, especially as his fingers slide out and leave you empty to squeeze around nothing.

rafe stands up, bringing his cock up into your sight line. your eyes widen when you see he's much longer and thicker than his two fingers that were already a tight fit inside you.

“don't worry.” rafe says as he tears the foil of the condom before getting the rubber out and rolling it down his length. “im gonna take good care of you.”

your hips already sit at perfect height as rafe steps between your legs. you would close them out of shyness if it was at all possible.

rafe taps his tip over your clit, making you moan out, but you don't bother to hold back, not when rafe lets out a moan as well.

“the room is completely noise proof, and sounds are nothing to be embarrassed by.” rafe assures you as he rubs his cock against your pussy, thoroughly wetting himself before pushing against your entrance.

it's a slow push to break the ring of muscle, and then an easy slide once he's in.

“h-holy shit.” you whine out, hands gripping the side of the bed as rafes hips immediately begin to swing in and out.

“any pain?”

“none.” you answer quickly. there's no hiding the intense pleasure being brought to your body, especially when rafes thumb retakes its place on your clit.

“there ya go.” rafe smiles as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock. “i can tell you're getting close.”

rafe glances at the clock, wishing he could fuck you for longer, but if he extends the time for the exam too long the nurses will surely get suspicious.

“how does it f-ffffffff-” your ability to speak briefly lapses when rafes thrust speed up. “feel for you?” you manage to complete your sentence.

“your pussy feels amazing. you're so tight and warm. any guy would be lucky to be inside of you.” rafe says, his hips moving faster, desperate to cum. “perfect.”

you are practically glowing underneath the praise and impending orgasm, rafes thumb moving faster with real purpose now.

your head tips back and before you know it, a wash of light and pleasure has taken over your body, and you're moaning and twitching as what you're certain is your high breaks.

“that's it.” rafe smiles, feeling your pussy flutter around him, clit pulsing with the strength of your orgasm as he thrusts harder into your pussy, putting all his might into helping you ride out your orgasm and spur on his own.

rafe lodges his cock as deep inside of you as he can as he cums, briefly cursing the barrier of the condom from preventing himself from flooding your womb.

“very- good.” rafe pants, pulling out extra slow despite the clock ticking down, watching as your hole squeezes back tight as he pulls out.

rafe discards the condom and then his soaked gloves, sticky with your wetness before tucking himself back into his pants.

“take all the time you need.” rafe undoes the stirrups and let's your legs flop down. “ill come check on you in five minutes, i need to see if my other patient is here.”

and just as quickly as he entered, rafe leaves the room, leaving you with your pussy a sloppy mess and heart beating fast.

[glendylucasthree]

Whenever I draw Webgott, I still got these creeping sadness—probably because of their real-life stories.

Liebgott, presumably dealing with PTSD, didn’t return home for three years after the war. He never attended any reunions, never reached out to anyone from E Company, and never spoke about his service to his children, who only learned about his role later when he had died.

Webster, often disliked for being critical and rubbed a lot of people the wrong way by his action, commented as "not on the frontlines that much," and discredited for never advancing beyond Private First Class by the end of his service. He died while pursuing research on something he was passionate about.

So, pardon me if once in a while I probably vent draw something like this.

Under The Tree, WIP

This is not a happy Christmas song what the hell, Ed Sheeran why? Why?

The final render might be different, but I love this final sketch, so you guys can have this.

Pose referenced by this Vos Videmus's render