#like those were their epithets

[astrababyy]

Tamlin and Nesta for the character bingo!

tamlin and nesta in order :DDD

[username8746489]

So what is Sylvie and Rick's relationship? What made them connect

I'm gonna be honest, I 100% know little to NOTHING about their canon relationship

There was this period of time like a week ago where I drove myself insane trying to look for the confirmation that Sylvie and Rick were gonna be the POV investigation duo of Horizontal Pilot Command (The fifth novel in the series) because there was nothing listed in the wikis and I was staying up until 2am every night listening to streams to find it (This is relevant for later).

At 2:51:55 in the Prison of Plastic - CAST LIVESTREAM [PART 2], the Sylvie and Rick POV duo is brought up. A little while later, their dynamic is described as

Sylvie: Follow me, I know exactly what to do! (Has watched a lot of Detective Conan and is going to do his best)

Rick: Ah, okay! I have no idea what I'm doing but will copy you exactly!

During the period of time when I was trying to find that, I resorted to straight up closing my eyes and trying to skim through the Anime Campaign wiki without spoiling myself upon which I learned their relationship was meant to be brotherly but they didn't really get to explore that.

So from that, I assume that'll carry over into epithet erased, but there is the possibility that it won't.

[riggedbones]

see the thing about the explosion of indie animation that’s happening right now is that it still isn’t really… like. with a lot of indie games things are often more “retro” because the increase in tools and processing power etc means that making a simpler game like that is a lot easier nowadays and can be reasonably accomplished with a small team. animation however has always been very resource intensive in ways that have often just switched out for different strategies that may lessen that workload in some ways but be just as intensive in other ways or just depend on context. so just being “retro” and making something that comes off as just a bit older and not as advanced doesn’t really do much. so in order to lessen the cost and workload instead something new has to be done and while that does happen occasionally, it’s not the sort of thing that’s catching on atm

[blackvahana]

[lostandbackagain]

I don't know if I can continue reading sp atp because it's very clear valkyrie is never going to fully understand that skulduggery's the reason for almost everything bad thing in her life

[astrogre]

Aphrodite(1388) Beauty Indicators

What counts as Aphrodite(1388) beauty indicators:

Aphrodite in 1st house (YOU are appealing, this asteroid is simply who you are as this house represents you as a whole, physically and personal identity)

Aphrodite in 10th house (this is how you publicly appear to others at large, so if you have an asteroid here it kind of shows those themes come to mind in general when people think of you and what your reputation is associated with, imagine yourself as a concept, you perceived as a brand)

Aphrodite Conjunct Venus (your beauty and the way you style express yourself, you express your love and sense of beauty in similar ways, Venus also shows where we are most beautiful therefore the things that make you most beautiful are like Aphrodites)

VERY Strong indicators:

Aphrodite Conjunct ASC (it further amplifies because you become the physical embodiment of Aphrodite, no longer just a hint but may even be mistaken for her your form of expression and how you come across to all and most importantly yourself is just like Aphrodite)

Aphrodite Conjunct MC (same as 10H however it’s even more prominent, your Aphrodite characteristics may manifest or be needed for the job you do as well)

Aphrodite conjunct is at 0-2 orbs. Closer the orb more exactly like your appearance. 0 orb means Aphrodite is YOU to a T. Your physical appearance/public image/expression of oneself, if described with an adjective would be the asteroid itself.

2 or more of any of the previous Aphrodite indicators this asteroid is far too prominent in your chart to be an adjective to describe your beauty, it’s more like an epithet.

What kind of beauty you have:

- You embody the ideal beauty standards

- You shapeshift to appeal to the senses and pleasures of individuals who look at you

- People may struggle to define you by your appearance because you come across so differently to each person

- The allure (the buzz and positive talk of you) stands out more than what you put out to reality especially for Aphrodite asteroid in 10H/conjunct to MC

- You’re beauty is so rare that it’s unbelievable, people that hear of you described by others who know you may think you’re a myth or not real like a catfish or someone pretending to be real. Eg someone looking at your instagram may think you’re not real or if a guy is explaining you to his friends you sound too good to be true especially from the male gaze. That is until they meet you and realise you live up to their expectations and then the rumours of you further amplify as even MORE talk of you. If you start dating around jumping from man to man, people will gush over you

- You may pretend to be modest, demure and coincidentally sexually attractive yet your sexual attractiveness is purposefully intentional

this is based on aphrodites Greek and Latin scholars who wrote about the famous statue at Knidos on which it is based, says that Aphrodite’s facial expression and gesture show ‘false modesty’. She purposefully displays false modesty to look like her nudity and sexual allure is unintentional and just happens to be on her

- You show your beauty through your clothing perfumes and hair accessories. Aphrodite wore perfumed and silken garments, a crown of gold or flowers in her hair, and had expensive jewellery covering her body

- As time goes on you are more sexualised, no joke if you guys made a sex tape in your elder years you’d be like a trending milf dilf, especially with Capricorn, Saturn and 10H Aphrodite

Aphrodites depictions were always fully clothed until as centuries progressed the men that idolised her wanted to make her wear less and less, become sexier and sexier, they project their lustful thoughts on her and Aphrodite viewed it as compliments

- No matter what people may say about you, they cannot shake or change the fact that you are beautiful, they may also bring that up when talking about you behind your back if in 12H conjunct ascendant

- You have feminine curves which are shown best through draped clothing, you look best in clothes that drape to your skin and hug your curves

- No matter what you wear people will always see you nude or want to, they may sexualise you and you may subconsciously enjoy it because you feel desired and it feels good to know you’re making others feel pleasure just from looking at you

- You look best naked, your breast and hips may be most prominent and something men recognise you for and what garners admiration from women too. Women may look up to you as the standard and what they wished the looked like

Source: the idealization of womanhood in all her femininity; the Aphrodite sculpture, Praxiteles was mainly responsible for establishing the type-sensuous in its soft curves and voluptuousness.” (Morford 180). As told by Morford, the exaggeration of body parts, breasts mostly, became Aphrodite’s spotting mark in art

- You could have long hair, or your hair can be styled in a different way to other women, very distinct, it can be different from what others expect, your hair may be “immodest” like it looks like it’s uncovered, not domestic, you may put a lot accessories on it or do something specifically that makes it stand out and look better, it’s kind of “unintentionally” erotic.

- You look best in bodies of water, playing with your hair in water, when you’re showering, wringing your hair dry, you may get a lot of stares when you go to the beach just relaxing, or if you’re swimming. It’s something people could watch for a long time

- You love to accessorise excessively

- Men change the way they see you physically from your body to your face and hair, all just to fit their imagined ideal beauty standards. For an example: say a man may prefer brunettes, if you’re blonde, that man will imagine you with brown dark hair and romanticise it, from that point onward he can no longer see you as blonde no matter how blonde you are because the fantasy of an idolised you is so overwhelming

- Men fantasise about you a lot, women too. You invoke fear/admiration into women because of your appearance

- You represent the most ideal physical traits, you can be compared as the standard for others and people may put you on a pedestal so high that makes others want to be where you are but knowing they simply cannot as it’s not in their nature. Because competing against you would destroy them and they do not compare

- You may make people feel ashamed of themselves because you’re so uplifted and idealised by many

- You can adapt to the taste of the target/person you’re trying to seduce

- Your clothes and the way you style yourself enhance your features and make you look like someone who is wealthy and important of high status/nobility

- You are one of the most physically desired people to others

- Your physical appearance isn’t the only thing that makes you so beautiful, it’s the fact that everyone finds you desireable no matter who is looking.

Honestly when I think of Aphrodite I think of someone who is overly sexualised by men. Like they collectively came together and said THIS is what we like. She is the image of sex and desire because they put her there. And she likes it, which is probably why she is labelled as the god of sex, pleasure, love and beauty, it’s because she accepts all kinds of admiration from anyone. No matter how degrading or intensely it manifests. Do you too also accept love no matter how sexually degrading or intense it is? Do you have a tendency to expect to be glorified?

Source:

Link to the historical study of Aphrodites physical appearance

Homer, for example, said that the goddess could be recognized by her shining eyes and “desirable breasts.” Other writers gave her the epithet “Smile-Loving,” indicating that she often had a happy expression. More often, writers described Aphrodite’s beauty through her clothing. She wore perfumed and silken garments, a crown of gold or flowers in her hair, and had expensive jewelry covering her body. most of what we know about Aphrodite’s looks must be drawn from the art of the period.

gain, the representations leave much room for interpretation. The one aspect they have in common is that, fittingly, Aphrodite was shown as beautiful.

This usually meant that she had feminine curves, which were often accentuated by closely-draped clothing. When she was dressed it was often only partially, but the goddess was just as often shown in the nude.

She usually had long hair that was left at least partially down, in contrast to the more demure, covered hair of matronly and domestic goddesses. A favorite subject of classical artists was the emergence of Aphrodite from the sea, in which she was sometimes shown wringing the water out of her long hair.

Sculptors had more freedom than painters to imagine the goddess in different poses and situations. Often these poses emphasized her feminine shape and attractiveness to the male gaze. As the goddess of beauty, she represented the most desirable female form possible.

She often changed her appearances to suit her purposes.

This shape-shifting also allowed artists to portray her in a way that reflected the physical idea of their own time and place. Aphrodite could have dark hair in one place and be blonde in another.

Thus, our modern interpretation of Aphrodite has been filtered through the ideals of female beauty from not only Greece and Rome, but long after as well. Medieval artists gave her a high forehead and Renaissance painters showed her with flowing blonde hair because those were the ideals of their times. The written descriptions of Aphrodite were open-ended enough to allow artists to show her in a way they thought was beautiful for centuries. While later artists were influenced by the paintings and sculptures of Rome and Greece, they had the license to show the goddess of beauty in a way that made sense within their own cultures.

Most often, Aphrodite’s clothing and jewelry were described in greater detail than her body or facial features. The richness of her garments and adornments both enhanced her features and signalled her nobility.

The lack of written detail meant that artists were able to portray Aphrodite in a way they felt was beautiful. While these typically followed certain conventions, these conventions could vary between regions and time periods. Aphrodite/Venus was therefore shown with certain marks of beauty that had persisted from the ancient world, but also with the features and clothing considered ideal in the artists’ own times. She could be recognized not by a specific feature, but by her desirabilithy.

[thekatebridgerton]

HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT THEY DID TO MICHAEL STIRLING?!

I haven't seen part 2 yet but I definitely saw the spoilers on my dashboard. And for all that its worth, I'm really sad about it right now.

I've seen a lot of posts invalidating the feelings of book fans by saying things along the lines of 'if you don't like Michaela Stirling you're ...you guessed it a #BadPerson' and I'm trying to process which person's feelings matter and don't matter in a world where those same people preach acceptance and support. I want my feelings to matter, I want to be allowed to be sad about the fact that this character I was looking forward to seeing is no longer going to be on screen. But the truth is a lot of people keep saying that my sadness and sorrow is invalid shaming people who feel like I do with all the self righteousness of a pastor in church. because apparently not liking the genderbeding of Michael Stirling makes me a #RaginghaterOfMinorities.

And lets be clear, everyone can say what they want, but book Michael Stirling is not going to be on screen, his story was too emeshed with the gender roles of the era, for a genderbent take to not strip and reorder the character's motivations and major plot lines in order to make him a woman. Michaela Stirling is for all intents and purposes a new and improved character. More power to her.

Still that doesn't take away the fact that I am sad and disappointed that Michael Stirling won't be on screen and that it will take me time to process this in a healthy way.

So in case nobody has said this to the crowd who is heartbroken over the genderbeding of Michael Stirling, those who feels upset and disappointed over the loss of a beloved character and don't feel brave enough to express it. Let me be the first to tell you that your feelings are valid, disliking the change in direction that was taken for a fictional character doesn't make you racist or homophobic or anti feminist or any other of those ' you are a raging hater of minorities ' epithets. ( Some of you may even be the kindest people I've met on the site) In my opinion, those feelings just make you human, and you should be allowed to feel it and process the loss in a healthy way without being told youre selfish and a bad person.

Does being heartbroken over this give anyone the right to go and harass actors like Masali Baduza for doing a job they were hired and paid to do? No. Does it give anyone the right to go send nasty harassment anons to people who actually liked the change? Also no. In fact it doesn't give the right to people who have a different opinion to harass you either. Boundaries are a two way street. Don't harass others and don't consent to receiving harassment is a rule we should all follow

But it does give you the right to feel your emotions, process them, accept the change and move on with a healthy mindset.

Its going to take me a while to get there myself, but that's what I'm doing.

And that's the tea

[cherry-cakee]

Hi fellow Epithet erased fans! To celebrate Prison of Plastic’s one year anniversary I’ve decided to bless you with a nightmare I had about Epithet erased that will forever haunt me as a person.

The dream started off really normal, not that off putting until I opened youtube and saw that there was a flood of a shit ton of Epithet erased related content. Like. DIGITAL CIRCUS LEVELS OF VIRAL. It got so bad to the point people started making content farms and dumb thumbnails. (Artistic rendition by me below)

So yeah, that was insane right? But it gets worse. I go look up Epithet erased merchandise right? Instead of plushies as i expected there were actually plastic bootleg figurines that looked like the stuff of nightmares. It reminded me of those dumb looking redbubble tshirts and shirts. [Shown below + artistic rendition of terrible made figures, i promise my art is better than this…]

Fortunately before it escalated even more I woke up from that hellish nightmare and am now thankful we dont have to deal with LORELAI VS MOLLY SLIME CHALLENGE!

(Thumbnail Images for your amusement)

[sunshinescribes]

Between Your Name and A Prayer

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: There are few who can say they elude Dracule Mihawk, and even fewer who have held his heart. You’ve done both, and it only serves to complicate things when Mihawk seeks to collect your bounty…or so he tells himself.  

Warnings: SMUT! Ex!Mihawk, Angst, Yearning, Fingering, Emotional Sex, Rough Sex (PinV), Reader is a little petty/bratty

Mihawk knows he shouldn’t be doing this. Not again.

He shouldn’t be slipping through a sleepy port town in search of you.

He tries to blame it on your wanted poster, a reminder that you continue to evade the world government—evade him, but the lie is hardly convincing.

Not when he had spent more time than necessary staring down at your new wanted poster, his sharp eyes following the curve of your playful smile and catching on to your eyes, as bewitching as he remembers, and with that familiar glint of mischief shining in them. The look you give is reminiscent of the one you used to grace him with, just before you stole a kiss, or persuaded him back to bed—what feels like a lifetime ago now.

Mihawk tries to shake the aching feeling that blossoms in his chest. Your bounty has gone up significantly. Vice Admirals hiss your name over snail responders; wonder why you haven’t been caught yet. Mihawk is quick to retort sharply that he isn’t at their beck and call, despite what the Admirals might think, and that they can send someone else to catch you, or better yet, find her yourself.

He knows they won’t. It’s as difficult for them to track you down as it is for him, maybe even more so. Besides, they have an…inkling of an idea of what you two once shared. Feelings once held that they think he can use to draw you from the shadows. If only they knew how wrong their assumptions were.

He may be a hunter of sorts, but you are no prey. Mihawk has come to realize that he only finds you when you let him. You leave little clues—hints dripping with nostalgia. You tease him, dare the world’s greatest swordsmen to come and find you, and he accepts the challenge every time with the eagerness of an undisciplined child.  

He has only found you twice, and on both occasions, you looked far too pleased, not surprised in the slightest to see his dark figure slipping from the shadows. You had smiled and teased him in a way only you (and a certain red-haired pirate) would be brave enough to.

You finally showed up, Hawk Eye.

Mihawk despises the epithet from you—the distance it creates, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? It makes it easier to fall into a night of ravenous bliss without considering that you two once shared a home and your hearts.

Mihawk continues to shift through the lifeless town, the chilly midnight air working like a balm to his tortured soul, allowing him a moment of respite as his eyes flit between dimly lit shops. This venture started nearly a week ago with Mihawk idly flipping through the newspaper, curious to see what troubles were brewing in the Grand Line. Little caught his interest as he read, but when he turned to the last page, his eyes lingered on a single photo. An unexpected offering.

You, disguised well and hidden in a crowd, your face was obscured by the hat you wore, similar to the ones donned by those beside you. To anyone else, you were nothing more than another spectator, but the necklace that rested against your collar screamed your identity—the same one Mihawk had placed around your neck a year prior.

What fun you must have finding new ways to reel him in.

The first time Mihawk sought you out, he had been certain of catching you. His objective left him the second your warm eyes fell on him, and your mouth ventured where his body had missed you most. The second time, he had sworn he would not be tempted, but his will had shattered easily. Mihawk lost himself as he pressed you up against the wall of a cramped room in a seedy hostel, your nails digging into the flesh of his bare back while he took you apart as he had done so many times before.

What would he do this time? Mihawk had tried to reason that he would not be so weak-willed—so foolish as to let you reduce him to a man incapable of thinking beyond the flesh—but the certainty he once held was steadily slipping out of reach with each encounter.

A frustrated sigh escapes Mihawk’s parted lips as he stops in front of a shabby tavern. His eyes follow the curves of the poorly painted sign, faded and scuffed from lack of proper upkeep. It’s lifeless. No music pouring out the doors or cheery carols of drunken men. No heady scent of rum or grog. The tavern is completely devoid of life, save for the soft, flickering candlelight that paints the windows in a warm orange hue, and a single slippery patron Mihawk knows is inside.

He ignores the warring voices in his head as he pushes the door open, and there you are.

You sit perched on the counter, legs crossed, and head tilted slightly as you cradle a bottle in your hand. You hum a soft tune, your eyes downcast and far off in thought. Mihawk thinks perhaps your thoughts might be of him, because he recognizes the melody. It’s the same one he used to whisper against your skin in the dead of night, ushering you into a peaceful sleep—just as it had been used for him, back when he was young and hopeless in the arms of a tender-hearted nun.

Your hushed singing halts when the floorboard creaks under the weight of his boots. Your eyes lift, and the somber expression on your face is gone so fast that Mihawk thinks he might have imagined it.

An impish smile graces your features, and your eyes lower as you take in the sight of his lean body, shameless and hungry.

“And here I thought you’d stood me up.”

You’re always quick to crack a joke, dispelling some of the uncertain tension that always brews at the beginning. You want this to be as uncomplicated as possible.

And Mihawk realizes suddenly that he complies, says little beyond your name, and takes what you offer, lying to himself that it is enough—that he will hunger no more afterwards…but his appetite is endless, vicious in how much it craves something it can never have again.

Mihawk takes a step forward, and you uncross your legs instinctively, spreading them in a way that would make the nuns he grew up with faint. Ramera, they would whisper harshly, before slipping into prayer. They would surely have some choice words for him as well.

Your smile slips when he settles on the stool beside you, instead of between your parted legs.

You want this to be uncomplicated, and Mihawk can oblige, as he always does—he can steel his unruly heart and silence the voice that reminds him of better days, sweet and silent moments in a drab castle that seemed to burst with life with you in it. He can do all this, but why should he give you what you want right away?

You sigh disapprovingly, before taking a swig from your bottle.

“So, you’re here to collect my bounty, then?”

Your voice is flat and unamused. Mihawk can’t tell if it’s a display of false bravado or if you believe he wouldn’t be able to manage it.

“I haven’t decided,” he lies.

Of course he has. He always decides. Before he even sets off to find you—before the clues bare themselves before him—deep down, he knows he’ll never raise Yoru against you. Never bring you to the admirals who have hunted you for as long as he can remember. He can play the part of the heartless hunter, but he never truly fulfills the role.

Your sly smile returns. You lean towards him, positioned in a way that makes your collarless shirt dip, exposing the soft flesh of your breasts. Mihawk is quick to look away, but you’re just as perceptive as him. Your eyes catch everything, no matter how minuscule.

You reach for his hat, placing it on your own head.

“How can I convince you to spare me?” You ask sweetly, setting your drink aside.

Stop running away.

The words catch in Mihawk’s throat. He knows why you’re running, why you won’t come back to him, not even if he swallows his pride and asks. The moment the words pass his lips, you’ll pull away. Stop being a warlord, would be your quick reply, and it would spiral into the same argument that had created the impossible distance between you two.

Neither of you would let up. You both would tear open tender scars. It would complicate something already too fucking complicated—shatter the delicate peace you both allow in moments like this.

It will do no good to start a fight he can’t win.

Instead, Mihawk lifts from the stool, reaching to unsheathe Yoru. Your eyes go soft for the briefest of seconds when they fall on the decorated black sword—such a stark contrast to others who have seen him wield it. There’s always fear, sometimes envy, but never fondness. Then again, only you know his sword as intimately as he does.

“You don’t need to convince me,” Mihawk starts, leaning Yoru against the counter, far enough so that it doesn’t become a nuisance. “You only need to take what I give you.”

You raise a curious brow. You’re used to leading these little liaisons, quick to chase pleasure you’ve been deprived of, but this time Mihawk needs something different. He needs you to want just as badly as he does, to see you as helpless as you make him feel.

“And if it’s not enough?” You taunt, always so eager for a reaction.

Mihawk doesn’t humor you with a response. Instead, he positions himself between your spread legs. A myriad of images flash in his mind—delicious ways to break you apart that almost make him shudder in anticipation.

He notices your pert nipples through your collarless shirt, untended. Desire takes him hostage, makes his hands almost shake as he works quickly to unclasp the delicate buttons that keep your skin hidden from him.

“Someone’s excited.”

Mihawk rolls his eyes when you chuckle, low and lovely. You think you have him in the palm of your hand, and you’re not exactly wrong for believing so. Though you’ll learn soon enough how easily he can turn your smart remarks into desperate pleas.

You let out a shaky gasp when you feel Mihawk’s warm mouth kiss your collar, slowly trailing down while his rough hands cup your exposed breasts, kneading the soft flesh. He whispers your name against your skin—perhaps a warning or a promise—before he takes your sensitive nipple in his mouth. A pretty moan rips from your throat when he adds the soft pressure of his talented tongue.

You try not to picture Mihawk between your legs, lapping at your needy cunt with fervor. If the wetness between your thighs is anything to go off of, you’re doing a piss-poor job.

Mihawk breaks away from your tit, a string of saliva following him as he tends to the other. It’s a lovely sensation, but you want more.

You snake your hands downward, attempting to unbutton your pants and slip your fingers where you need them most, but Mihawk denies you. His hands catch your wrist the second you finish with the buttons. Your breast falls from his mouth, and he fixes back to his full height, peering down at you with those piercing eyes of his.

“Hard of hearing, are we?” Mihawk arches a sharp brow, ignoring the murderous expression you wear. He can feel the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “What I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You glare up at him like a petulant child…such a shift from the confident, easy smile you displayed only minutes before.

Mihawk revels in it for a moment longer before choosing to be altruistic.

He leans close, his soft lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “If you want my fingers inside of you, you’ll take off those pants. Quickly.”

He practically purrs in your ear, his voice richer and deeper than you remember it being. You want so desperately to defy him. His words drip with arrogance that makes you want to bare your teeth at him, regain a modicum of control, but you also burn with such torturous lust—and maybe something sweeter.

You school your emotions, look as irritated as you can manage when you slide down from the counter, quickly pushing your pants down the length of your legs. Mihawk mirrors you, peeling his black coat off, before neatly placing it near Yoru.  

Damn him and his stupid, perfect body.

You kick your pants to the side, tossing his hat along with it for added measure—just in case he thinks you’re happy to do as he says.  

Your faux frustration dissipates the second you’re back on the counter, and Mihawk’s fingers glide across your cunt, coating his digits with your slick. You hear the words he doesn’t speak when he pushes a finger into your hungry hole—who’s excited now?

You shake, eagerly watching the way his finger disappears inside of you.

“Mihawk—”

He shushes you before adding another digit. You hiss—oh god—andhe pushes a little deeper, fucks you a little faster, desperately seeking that soft spot inside of you that makes you see stars.

Mihawk curls his fingers suddenly and knows he found it, because you make the most wrecked noise he thinks he’s ever heard.

Your lashes flutter, sharp curses spill from your plump lips, incoherent and crude. Magnificent…Mihawk muses, transfixed on your micro-expressions—the way your brows pinch together, the subtle tremble of your bottom lip after each pretty sound.

You clench around his fingers, teetering on the edge of your release. Mihawk’s free hand moves as if it has a mind of its own, finding your neglected clit.

Your fingers weave into his hair, pulling him closer. "Fuckfuckfuuuck," you practically cry into his shoulder. You shudder beneath him while a pool of pleasure builds in your core, so dangerously close to bursting.

“More,” you choke out.

The tortuous circles that he rubs against your aching clit are divine, but it isn’t enough. You want to feel full—fuller than his fingers alone can provide.

“Wanna c—hmmmng—c-come on your dick.”

You’re thankful you catch the plea that tries to crawl up your throat.

Mihawk swears under his breath, pulling his fingers out of your sopping pussy. His eyes are heavy, his expression is like that of a drunken man as he glances downward. He groans, watching the way you clench around nothing.

Mihawk doesn’t make you wait long. He’s quick to undo his dark trousers, works with speed even he might not know he possesses to free his aching cock—it’s so lovely, pale with the prettiest shade of pink dusting his thick head. Evidence of his own arousal pours from the slit, mixing with your own slick when he wraps his fingers around the base.

You watch him pump into his hand, getting his dick nice and wet for you. It’s such a beautiful sight, so fucking obscene. You can’t stop the desperate moan that pours from your lips. Can’t stop yourself from calling his name with a hint of urgency in your tone.

“Impatient—” Mihawk hisses, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He gives no warning as he buries himself in your soaking heat. You all but shriek as you feel the brush of his wet fingers against your clit again. “You have what you want. Now come.”

You try to hold out—you don't want him to think that he can make you shatter with a simple command, but your body betrays you. Pleasure rips through you before you can even consider a snide remark, making you cry out loud and cling to his lean frame. You shudder through your orgasm, curse between gasps, and Mihawk can’t look away—can’t stop the way his hips jerk reflexively when your walls flutter around him.

It feels so good, it almost makes him lose what little self-control he has left. Mihawk stills, grits his teeth painfully until his desire becomes just a little manageable. He won’t let this be another quick, meaningless fuck.

Mihawk lifts you with his dick still buried deep inside you. It almost takes you by surprise until you remember just how strong he is. He wields Yoru as effortlessly as one wields a dagger. He has taken down entire fleets with a single attack. Maneuvering from the bar counter to a booth is hardly work.

And you’re thankful for the change, feeling the cushion beneath you. It’s not the softest you've ever felt, but it’s certainly more comfortable than the damn counter.

Though it hardly matters, you don’t get much time to relish it once Mihawk cages you in with his powerful body.

“Missed me—” He thrusts into your heat, his pace downright brutal as his hips slam into yours. “Oh—OH, can’t you feel how much you missed me?”

God, you hate how right he is. Despise the way your cunt sucks him in and clings to his length. You feel the sweet spasms that wrack through you with each vicious thrust—how your walls pulse with a need to be filled in more ways than one.

It feels so fucking good—always does with him—and you’re past trying to deny it. Would you even believe yourself if you tried?

You blink up at him, watching the way Mihawk’s face contorts with pain and pleasure. How his long, dark lashes flutter. The way his delicate lips part and a sound that goes straight to your core escapes. He’s so beautiful—it almost drives you mad thinking about how effortless it is for him, as if he is something divine and otherworldly.

Is this the same way he sees you? When his eyes linger and he looks a little dazed?

His golden eyes lift suddenly, finding yours. Your breath catches at the expression you see hidden in their depths—the unguarded adoration. It’s so different from how he looks at anyone else—a gift only ever meant for you.

Mihawk slows the roll of his hips, moving his hand from where it’s positioned near your head. You can’t anticipate what he’s planning—can’t think beyond the tender look in his eyes.

And then you feel it.

The warmth of his palm as his fingers laces with yours. 

The act is intimate, full of loving intent.

Your heart bursts as you blink up at him. Countless emotions flood through you—unceasing affection that you try to bury, the pain that still lingers, loneliness, frustration, desire—it’s overwhelming in its intensity, chases away the unrelenting conviction you’ve nurtured for months.

“Mihawk,” you call out desperately, “kiss me.”

Mihawk stills, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. He considers it for a moment, leans in ever so slightly before pulling away, cursing in his mother tongue.

He tries to focus on the feeling of you beneath him. Your warm skin, the rhythm of your erratic heart—but your request snags his like a twisted vine. It takes every ounce of defiance to deny you this.

Not unless you tell me you still love me.

Not unless you come back home.

“Mihaawk…”

You hate how your voice comes out in a low whine, but the need to feel his lips against yours is paramount. One final request to satisfy your heartsick soul.

“Too much.” His voice is tight, pained. “You want too much.”

His golden eyes find yours again. You expect his notorious glare, maybe even a sneer for good measure, but you receive neither. His eyes are soft…and a little sad, as if he wishes he could give you everything you desire, but to what end?

Hot, frustrated tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You try so hard to blink them away, but they fall without your permission, running down your cheeks all while Mihawk watches, his sharp brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no venom in your voice, no spite. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate yo—”

You taste his lips before you feel them—ripe plum from a silver chalice, salt from the sea.

Mihawk melds his mouth with yours, reminding you both of just how perfectly you always fit together. You melt into him, feel lightheaded when he pries your mouth open with his tongue, desperate and hungry, as if he’s trying to siphon the air from your lungs.

Your nails scrape against his scalp, tufts of his dark hair curl around your fingers, and Mihawk breaks.

He rocks his hips suddenly, harshly fucking into you with renewed fervor.

“I hate you,” you say again when he finally breaks away, a string of glistening saliva still connecting you two. The sight alone rips a breathy moan from his throat, and he nods.

“I know,” he dips down, pressing phantom kisses to your lips.

Mihawk knows what you really mean. What you won’t allow yourself to say aloud.

You still love him. You never stopped loving him.

He tries to show you how much he still loves you, pushes himself as deep as he possibly can. Mihawk nearly collapses from the way your velvety walls hug him—so tight and snug that it almost hurts. He knows he’s hitting something delightful inside of you—something that makes you convulse and sob beneath him.

“Please, please—” he hears your voiceless plea.

Mihawk groans, resting his forehead on yours as he pounds into you. He hits so deep that the head of his cock collides with a gummy cluster of nerves, and you tip over the edge with a sharp cry.

Mihawk captures your lips again, swallowing your moans. You tremble, fresh tears slipping from your eyes, while your second orgasm rips through you, so violent and demanding that it feels like it wants to take your soul along with it.

“My heart—” Mihawk grits as your walls massage his tortured cock, take him hostage until he’s pushing impossibly deep. “fuckI’m—"

Mihawk doesn’t finish his sentence—barely even starts it before he’s flooding you. He comes hard, pumping your sweet cunt full of his seed, filling it like it deserves. Your walls squeeze him, milking him for all he’s worth. It’s too fucking much. He shakes through it, euphoria splitting through his body until every ounce of strength is drained from him.

Mihawk collapses, as boneless as you, though he does his best to refrain from resting his full weight on you. He offers you sweet praise. A soft kiss on the corners of your lips, your cheeks, your chin.

“I love you,” Mihawk murmurs against your skin, so low you nearly miss it.

You’re too spent to react, though you’re uncertain of what you would do even if you could. You want the warmth of his touch, his kisses, and honeyed words. You want that fond look in his eyes and the tender care he offers only to you.

But are you willing to forgive? To forget how you two ended up here?

You ignore your mind’s inquiry. You allow yourself to crave, to fall deeper into this pleasant mirage as your eyes grow heavy.

When the sun rises, you will have to face this, but for now, you let yourself slip into a fantasy where you can love him without consequence.

divider credit @/cafekitsune

[lilac-5ky]

The one where he carries you home after a fight (Toji xFem!Reader)

A/N: My 7AM sleepless demons wrote this, not me.

warning: mentions of alcohol

Series Masterlist

“Thanks for coming, Toji. She wanted us to hit Roppongi next.”

“No problem.” Toji mutters as he lifts your limp body over his shoulders—arms thrown over his neck and knees buckled around his torso.

He nearly winces at the overwhelming stench of tequila emanating from your breath, praying that the wetness seeping through his shirt is drool and not vomit, though that’s more like wishful thinking. You are wasted. Completely and utterly drunk out of your mind to the point where you can’t differentiate the setting or those around him.

“Mistah, drop me off at the next station,” you slur with your eyes closed, pointing somewhere on the horizon before nodding off again. This was the third time you repeated that motion.

“How much did ya make her drink?” Toji doesn’t ask so much as accuse the two women, who are quick to shut him down with the dirtiest of looks. Nothing new. Your friends never liked him, and the feeling’s mutual.

“Make her?” Utahime huffs, rolling her sleeves over her elbows. “She’s the one who dragged us out on a Tuesday night. If anything, you’re the one to blame—you pushed her to it!”

“Senpai, calm down already.” Shoko lowers her friend’s fists. Out of the two, she’s the better one at acting like she tolerates him. “What did you fight over, anyway?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

With the way you stormed out the door in your finest high-heel shoe, black party dress, and red lipstick combo, he’d expect your lovers quarrel to make headlines by midnight.

However, they both shake their heads negatively.

“Who knows?” Toji flashes an oblivious smile before he gets you going. You were so angry at him earlier, and in all honesty, he did cross a line or two, but it doesn’t feel all that important now. Come tomorrow, this will become just another entry in your record of petty arguments to look back on and laugh at.

You’ve made it halfway up the slope that leads to your crappy apartment building when he catches you flailing around on his back like a fish fresh out of water. He slots his hands into the crevices beneath your thighs, applying enough pressure so that you won’t fall.

“Rise and shine, sleepy-head.”

Your slow blinks turn rapid the second you realize your feet aren’t touching the ground and you’re piggybacking on a stranger. “W-Who are you?”

“Ya don’t remember?” Toji rolls his eyes with a loud tsk. “What was it again? Mister Taxi? Mister Killjoy? Or Mister Buzzkill?” He goes through the different names you bestowed on him in your sleep.

“Mister… Buzzkill?” Your jaw drops slack on his shoulder, only for your palms to clap at his chest in excitement a minute later. “Mister Buzzkill, I remember! You kidapped me from my friends and spoiled our fun!”

“More like your friends got sick of your ass and called me to pick up the pieces.” He argues. “Hold on tight if ya don’t wanna fall. Climb’s steep from now on.”

Strength returns to your arms as they cage his neck. “Where are you taking me, Mister Buzzkill? Are we going to party?”

“Don’tcha think you’ve had enough partying for one night, princess?” He grunts. “We’re goin’ home.”

“Home? Whose home?”

Toji’s starting to miss the you that nags him about not soaking his dirty dishes. Alcohol always chips away at your mental capacity, and while he wants to be understanding, he can’t understand that which he’s never experienced for himself. “Our home, dummy.”

The epithet doesn’t faze you in the slightest. “Are you going to exploit me?”

“Prospect makes you happy?” You hum in return. “Fine. You can pay for the ride once we make it home.”

“But…” And you sound so sad that he cocks his head to peer at your face, glassy, puppy eyes welling up with fat tears that make him wonder whether he said something hurtful again. “I don’t have any money. My husband said we’re out of money ‘cause he—he gambled it away.”

The cogs in his brain are put in reverse, reminding him of the cash he snatched from your open wallet with the intention of waging it on a guaranteed victory and the little white lie you took at face value. You didn’t even give him the chance to explain that the bills were still in his pocket because the race was called off, and he let you run off to your friends without offering a single apology.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out.” Toji squeezes your thighs reassuringly. “Ya can pay me back in kind, too.”

“But my husband—”

“Your husband is a shithead.” He spits out, hoping that his remorse registers without leaving behind any actual trace of his words.

“You are so kind, Mister Buzzkill. Unlike him—my Toji.” The fingers of your one hand pull on your wedding band until it comes off. “Wanna marry me again, Mister…Toji?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Toji catches the wedding band right before it slips from your fingers to the street. Part of him wants to scold you for being a scatterbrained nuisance, but the part of him that finds even your plastered form endearing comes out on top.

He slides the ring around the ring finger of his ring-less hand and pieces your hands together, holding onto them until you finally reach the front door and you’re sober enough to call him by his name.

“A’right, we’re here.” Toji declares once the key’s inside the hole.

He calls out your name and shakes you softly, but there’s no answer coming from you other than a single embarrassingly loud snore. He lets go of your legs and slowly puts your feet on the floor before hoisting them up in the air again, shifting to carrying you into bridal position. Your hands reach around his neck on their own volition, and he swears your lips curl into the softest smile when your nose pressed against his shirt.

He sighs, parting the hair that’s fallen inside your agape mouth.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

[mochiajclayne]

Marineford Law is no question interesting to me because he pulled off a surprise, motherfucker moment and the timing was so good to the point that both pirates and marines least expected it.

Before I proceed with this self-indulgent lawlu meta post, I will go ahead and say that everything that happened between them in Marineford is a catalyst of establishing their connection later on in the future arcs. I am a firm believer that those feelings™️ started to truly bloom in Punk Hazard and went downhill in a good way in Dressrosa.

Long post ahead. Enjoy!

When I was rewatching Marineford arc, the part where Buggy was already carrying an unconscious and injured Luffy and Jimbei, their conversation sparked my interest.

Highlighting the bit where Buggy was confused about Law's verbal tic of using the suffix -ya in referring to anyone, overall doubting him, then asking for Law's name. Don't forget that Law is a little shit (affectionate) so he proceeded to ignore all of those questions to say this:

Interestingly enough, this part is tricky to translate. I found two translations that closely encapsulate what Law wanted to say here but mind you, and I will sound redundant about this with everything that has got to do with Trafalgar Law's speech patterns: he likes speaking in runarounds, purposely using terms with double meanings and connotations on them, and he's both reticent and cryptic. (I wouldn't say not to trust on his words but don't take them at face value.)

Law described his connection with Luffy as 悪縁 (akuen) which directly translates as evil destiny or connection.

Forgive me for a bit of sidetracking but the kanji used for akuen is the same with Robin's epithet which is "Demon Child" (akuma no ko). To further elaborate, 悪 (aku) means evil--both as intent and violating a moral code. It is also used to refer as the direct opposite of good.

Going back to 悪縁 (akuen), in true Law fashion, this word doesn't only mean evil destiny or connection. Depending on the context, it can also mean unfortunate love.

(It sounds tragic coming from him, isn't it? If your mind was blown after this part, no worries, I am too. This part gave me so much whiplash when I was researching about it.)

So, considering these two interpretations of 悪縁 (akuen), that begs the question, what is Law's connection with Luffy?

On surface-level, they are enemies as Law said so himself. They're rivals when it comes to One Piece. Their common ground, which is only known among people that Law trusts the most, is sharing the same secret name of D. However, I will take one step ahead and say that they both went through the same tragic fate of losing their loved ones, for being weak and powerless to protect them. They were both involved in circumstances where if they were capable enough, they could've saved the person they loved the most. Doomed by the narrative and subjected to trauma that breaks their heart and spirit should they be lesser men to handle such misery and grief. It is unfortunate, disastrous, and cursed to love fully knowing the fact that the other person could die like the ones before them but these two have the biggest heart.

Of course, Law will never say it directly. Thus, settling for 悪縁 (akuen).

It gets better. He did say 悪縁も縁 (akuen mo en) and 縁 (en) itself means fate or destiny (especially a mysterious force that binds two people together). Additionally, も (mo) is also a particle that is used for emphasis.

The implication, in turn, of what Law said to Buggy can be translated this way: Strawhat-ya and I (will) eventually be enemies, but an evil connection is (the futuristic possibility of Luffy becoming his enemy) is fate (that binds them).

Law made sure to emphasize that their "evil connection" is fate: specifically, that mysterious force brought them together and compelled him to be there, that he was meant to sail to Marineford, and help Luffy escape.

These two translations are the closest that I found to be accurate but it's still scratching the surface of what Law said:

This entire panel between Ivankov and Law makes it funnier because he clocked him IMMEDIATELY.

Ivankov asked if he's friends with Luffy to which he replied: no.

He also emphasized that that he doesn't have any obligation to help him but then went on to say this:

親切 (shinsetsu) means kind, generous, gentle, considerate. 不安 (fuan) refers to anxiety, uneasiness, worry, apprehension. These are surprisingly direct words but of course, Law had to go back and be cryptic again when he followed up with 理屈 (rikutsu), which could mean two things: theory, reason, logic or (unreasonable) argument, excuse.

I think this panel did a good job for translating it.

Law himself is providing Ivankov here the benefit of the doubt. To reiterate, Ivankov beats him to the punch which makes their entire interaction so funny.

Again, brilliant translation for directly calling out Law's bullshit. Lmao. Ivankov says 直感 (chokkan) here. It means intuition, instinct, hunch. Please take the next statement that I will say with a grain of salt but "instinctively moving your body" is usually associated with the context of being reckless to the point of directly exposing oneself to danger, consequences be damned, in order to protect someone.

Even Law himself acknowledged that he's not obligated to be there, so why?

Unfortunately, this is the elephant in the room that Law will never address. Several characters even made sure to point out that he helped Luffy two years ago and he purposely dodges that topic.

One thing I can guarantee is that Law never did it to get Luffy to agree for the alliance. Hell, he thought of the alliance after reuniting with Luffy! He adjusted his plans by then. Additionally, he never used the fact that he saved Luffy's life as his bargaining chip and leverage to get him on board the alliance.

Lastly, this is too much for saving a life on a whim, isn't it, Law?

[marwyn]

When she slid Oathkeeper from the ornate scabbard, Brienne’s breath caught in her throat. Black and red the ripples ran, deep within the steel. Valyrian steel, spell-forged. It was a sword fit for a hero. When she was small, her nurse had filled her ears with tales of valor, regaling her with the noble exploits of Ser Galladon of Morne, Florian the Fool, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, and other champions. Each man bore a famous sword, and surely Oathkeeper belonged in their company, even if she herself did not. “You’ll be defending Ned Stark’s daughter with Ned Stark’s own steel,” Jaime had promised. (AFFC, Brienne I)

[George R. R. Martin] creates Valyrian steel and describes it so clearly that it resembles Damascene steel. […] The epithet derived from the name of Damascus, the capital city of Syria, and this kind of steel was used to manufacture swords in the Near East from antiquity through the early modern era. The swords had distinctive patterns of mottling reminiscent of flowing water. Their blades were legendary: tough, resistant to shattering, and capable of being honed to a razor-sharp edge. In the case of Eddard Stark’s sword Ice, however, Martin ensures that we know it was created using magic along with smithwork. Ice is clearly a sword of power, wielded by heroes. It fits a mythical concept of a sword for heroes. Heroes have special abilities; no ordinary warrior is capable of fighting with such a sword. The medieval equivalent would be a sword like Roland’s Durendal in the French epic La Chanson de Roland. Durendal is imbued with a very medieval power: it contains a holy relic. Thus Game of Thrones relates more strongly than usual to a past recognizable by historians, alluding both to the swords of crusaders and to those of medieval legendary figures. Martin is not in fact giving us either history or a reinvented Middle Ages; he is using aspects of medieval legend to create pageantry and drama. Ice is magical, like King Arthur’s Excalibur. (Gillian Polack, “Setting up Westeros: The Medievalesque World of Game of Thrones,” in Game of Thrones versus History: Written in Blood)

“Ser Galladon was a champion of such valor that the Maiden herself lost her heart to him. She gave him an enchanted sword as a token of her love. The Just Maid, it was called. No common sword could check her, nor any shield withstand her kiss. Ser Galladon bore the Just Maid proudly, but only thrice did he unsheathe her. He would not use the Maid against a mortal man, for she was so potent as to make any fight unfair.” (AFFC, Brienne IV)

[coinandcandle]

Hathor Deep Dive

One of the most popular deities in Ancient Egypt and still popular among Kemetic followers today, Hathor (𓉡) is the Egyptian Goddess of women, love, and many other things.

Let’s get to know this Kemetic queen!

Parents and Siblings

Ra is her father in most mythology

Shu (brother)

Tefnut (sister)

Sekhmet (sister)

Mafdet (sister)

Bastet (sister)

Satet (sister)

Anhur (brother)

Ma'at (sister)

Mut (sister)

Lovers or Partners

Due to her role as a “queen” goddess, she often subsumed the role of other goddesses and was commonly said to be the wife of whoever the ruling god of the city was.

Horus the Elder - The most popular version

Thoth - in Hermopolis

Atum

Amun

Khonsu

Children

Ihy

Neferhotep of Hu

Horus the Child (sometimes)

Epithets

Being as popular and ancient comes with many names, here is a non-exhaustive list of some:

Lady of Dendera

Eye of Ra (an epithet shared with other goddesses)

Lady of the sky

Ruler of all gods

Lady of the Two Lands

Lady of bread, who brews beer

Lady of Dance

Ruler of the jba-dance

Lady of drunkenness

Lady of making music

Lady of jubilation

Ruler of joy

The Primeval

The Lady of All

Lady of the West

Lady of the Holy Country

The Foremost One in the Barque of Millions

The Distant Goddess

Hathor of the Sycamore

Lady of the Southern Sycamore

Hathor of the Sycamore in All Her Places

Hathor in All Her Places

Hathor Mistress of the Desert

Hathor Mistress of Heaven

Notes

Hathor’s worship likely started in the early dynastic times.

Her name means “Estate/House of Horus”--referring to both the sky and the royal family.

She is one of the oldest gods in the comedic pantheon.

She is depicted as a woman with a bull's head, a woman with cow ears, a cow, a woman with cow horns and a sundisc.

She was also portrayed as a lioness, a serpent, a papyrus plant and a sycamore tree.

She is associated with the constellation Ursa Major or Mesketiu.

She is regarded as a goddess of love, fertility, marriage and motherhood.

She was also known as a goddess of gratitude and as a sky goddess.

She also represents a vengeful aspect protecting Ra from his enemies.

She would be considered a psychopomp helping deceased souls transition to the afterlife.

In Greco-Roman times, she was seen as a manifestation or another version of Aphrodite.

She is also the goddess of pleasure and music with the sistrum being an important part of her worship.

Her imagery was found often on beer or wine containers, and she is linked to alcohol.

She is often seen wearing a menat, which is a beaded necklace representing rebirth.

Hawthorne's cult became popular in the 4th and 5th dynasty, and her cult believed that she played a huge role in the creation of the universe. They also believed due to her role in the creation of the Earth that she is her own mother.

She was considered to some as being connected to foreign lands.

She is often misrepresented and conflated with Isis.

She was the main deity in Gebelein, Denderah, and had separate temples in Memphis and Heliopolis.

Her most prominent temple was located in Denderah.

In Imu/Kom el-Hisn she was fused with Sekhmet.

Daily offerings were common in Ancient Egypt.

Goods such as incense, semi precious stones and other votive offerings were a part of her worship.

She is connected to the dead and said to nourish those in the afterlife by providing food and milk from her seven sacred cows.

These these seven cows were called the Seven Hawthorns and were named in the Book of the Dead: 

Lady of the Universe

Sky-storm

The Hidden One-Presiding Over her place

“You from Khemmis”

Red-hair

Bright-red

"Your Name Prevails Over the West."

The Seven Hathors may or may not also represent the Pleiades constellations. The Seven Hathors were said to have a red ribbon that binds evil.

She was often depicted wearing red, the color of passion.

She is honored in the festival of sacred marriage, which is 18 days into the month of Paoni.

As mentioned earlier, she often absorbed the roles of other goddesses as her popularity grew. Some of these roles included Seshat's role of a witness at the judgment of the dead.

While she was worshiped among all social classes. She was especially popular among the poor.

She had both priests and priestesses, which was uncommon since most clergy had to be the same sex as the god they served.

In the funerary text known as the Book of the Heavenly Cow, her father, Ra, sends her to punish humans for plotting against his rule. She is sent as Sekhmet, the lioness goddess, and massacres the rebellious humans relentlessly. But in order to prevent the wiping out of all of humanity, Ra orders that beer be dyed red and poured all over the land to mimic blood for the (literally) blood-thirsty goddess. Sekhmet then sees the “blood” and drinks all of it. In an inebriated state she passes out and reverts to a benign and calm Hathor.

Correspondences

Rocks/crystals/metals

Selenite, hematite, gold, turquoise

Plants

Papyrus, sycamore tree, lotus flower

Animals

Bull, cow, snake

Symbols

Sistrum, Bull horns with sundisc

Offerings

Milk

Gold

Makeup

Mirrors

Beads

Incense

Stones, especially those worn by royalty in Ancient Egypt such as turquoise or carnelian.

Jewelry

Acts of Devotion

Read the Book of the Heavenly Cow

Daily prayers

Show and share gratitude

Donate either money, clothes, or time to those less fortunate

Dance

Play music

Create a song for her (or a playlist!)

References and Further Reading

Ancient Egypt Online - Hathor

Britannica - Hathor

Hathor and Music

Hathor Epithets

Music and Dance in Ancient Egypt

Mythopedia - Hathor

The Complete Gods And Goddesses of Ancient Egypt by Umair Mirza

The Pleiades: the celestial herd of ancient timekeepers. By Amelia Sparavigna

Wikipedia

[alneedssleep]

Headcannons about Apollo pt.1 

PSA: This is mythology Apollo stuff but most of this applies to Percy Jackson Apollo as well. 

Apollo loves no sibling more than Artemis, but he is closer to Athena. They bonded over being the favourite siblings, gods of knowledge/wisdom and the fact Athena was somewhat in charge of teaching/raising him when he first came to Olympus. 

Apollo is the only other god besides Zeus to have the epithet ‘Moiragetes’ meaning ‘Leader of the Fates’. There are also only two moments of fate being averted in the entire mythos – once when Zeus swallows Metis and then again when Apollo tricks/convinces the Fates to extend Admetus’s lifespan. I imagine this means they are both capable of altering fate, it is just usually not worth the trouble. 

Adding on to the previous hc, I also imagine Apollo has pure white eyes. As in, no pupils or irises. This is a trait I imagine the Fates share as well. Zeus would as well if he had gift of prophecy, but he doesn’t. 

Apollo has the epithet ‘Lycegenes’ meaning ‘born of wolf’ or ‘born of Lycia’. Both work since his mother spent some time in a form of a wolf while pregnant in some versions and she is also a prominent goddess in Lycia. Lycia is in modern day Turkey, so I imagine Leto, Apollo and Artemis have some Turkish features. Specifically, they all have an aquiline nose (though you also see that in Greece), darker skin and (in the PJ universe aka the modern day) all three occasionally wear head scarfs. Not hijabs obviously since those are religious, but sheer fabric with a bunch of different designs relating to their sacred symbols wrapped around their head and hair. 

Apollo was less of an older brother and more of a parent to Hermes, Dionysus and even Hebe when they were young. It was only once they were much older that Apollo started treating than more like siblings but will occasionally fall back into old habits. 

Hera and Apollo have a better relationship than expected. They, along with Athena, mostly bonded over their shared woes of dealing with Zeus (who is not as bad as PJ Zeus but is still, you know, a king. And kings are rarely great.) 

Apollo is the most all-knowing of the non-primordial gods. He has the domains of truth, prophecy and knowledge and, once he gains the sun in roman times, can also see anything that happens during the day. This makes him stupidly well informed. Even his cousin Hecate, Aunt Asteria, Grandmother Phoebe and Grandfather Koios are not as well informed since they only have the domain of prophecy and, even then, only have a specific kind while Apollo, seemingly, has access to every kind of prophecy. 

Apollo (and Artemis) are Gods of Youth and, in Apollo’s case, he even has an epithet explicitly denoting him as an eternal child: ‘Acersecomes’ meaning one with unshorn hair. Boys in ancient Greece grew out their hair and generally cut and dedicated their hair to Apollo after reaching adulthood. As a result, Apollo not only has long curly golden hair, but is also unable to age any older than 15 since 16 was the age of adulthood back then. I imagine this would be the same for Artemis as well. (If we are including the PJ universe here, then they would be able to age up to 17). 

[utilitycaster]

This is most likely an absolutely incorrect wild shot in the dark but: while joy in violence is very much a Gruumsh thing, the symbol isn't quite right and it seems like a weird thing for Gruumsh to pursue; where's the foothold for a Vanguard member, after all?

You know what I wonder might be going on? We're in a dark, freezing cold place. There was once a god of darkness and winter, called Ethedok, and while it and Vordo were eaten by Predathos, their names and symbols weren't erased from history like the deity the Raven Queen challenged. By the 800s PD information about their existence was tightly controlled in Vasselheim; but that might not have been true during the Age of Arcanum, particularly in a time and place when multiple wizards were actively researching how to ascend to godhood and/or destroy the gods. Who knows what information is in Aeor? Not to mention what's specifically in the Omen Archive, which Ludinus recently stole? If you're connected to Predathos, as a Ruidusborn might be...do we know those gods were destroyed, or merely eaten? Might there be something left of them?

Another note: Ethedok's epithet was "The Endless Shadow."

[oldguardleatherdog]

I am being smeared as a "predatory transphobe" to hundreds of thousands of people by Rainbow Passage, a so-called "trans rescue" nonprofit that's covering up its safety failures and misconduct by attacking me and placing my family in danger. Deliberately.

There's a headline I'll bet you never thought you'd see on this blog, and you can be sure I never expected to write it, but here we are. I want you to hear about it from me first before the smear campaign against me poisons your feed.

Regular readers know that I've been fighting for LGBTQ+ civil rights for nearly 40 years, with an emphasis on mobilizing against the "trans panic" sweeping America the past two years, the horrific laws already in place, and the stark plans for eradication laid out in Project 2025. The notion that I'm "transphobic" in any way is absurd. But -

Three weeks ago, YouTube streamer trolls went to the Rainbow Passage website - their unsecured, login-free website - looking for dirt that could bring their operations to a halt. They found my picture and bio listed as a director for the organization.

That was all they needed, and in short order I was the star of several full-length videos and livestreams featuring breathless, jeering takes on my kink life, my history, my family, my age, my AIDS, my September 11th survival (suddenly I was "running the organization" and "hosting 9/11 reenactment roleplays!"), my looks, my unsuitability to be involved with a trans rescue organization, and everything you can imagine a middle-school playground would highlight. At this writing, I've been held out for ridicule, harassment, and threats ("it's time for this dogfucker to be euthanized") to a quarter-million people and counting.

Why?

Because Rainbow Passage failed to implement even the most basic security on that website, despite my multiple warnings in board meetings that this scenario was likely to happen and that we were prime targets for this kind of abuse.

To be honest, everything that the streamers made fun of me for has been said and done to me a thousand times a year for the past 30 years. Heard it all before, nothing new, just the same old "lookit the AIDS-ridden perv faggot old man pretending to be a dog, hurr durr hurr durr!". All those hours of video and they couldn't come up with anything new? These people need better writers.

Here's the issue: Two of the leaders of this sad and tiresome brigade (one named "Blowcockx" or something equally clever, the other one is discussed below) seized on a recent exchange I had with a group of leftist "Trans For Trump" (yep, you read that right) that was mobbing me on Bluesky for objecting when someone referred to Biden as "Genocide Joe". These people were vile and vicious, saying that my gender was "shit beard" and lobbing remarks and insults at me that would make a MAGA blush.

One of the Bluesky mob (who may or may not have been transgender) said, "Prove you're an activist," to which I countered, "Okay, prove you're trans." (Screenshots of my three additional replies referencing "fake trans" to their accusations of my being a "fake activist" and other vomitous epithets, along with screenshots of the posts to which I was replying, can be found after the jump.)

During the mob attack on me and Rainbow Passage. a disgruntled former member of the Rainbow Passage community - a 20-year-old trans girl who had first warned me about the YouTube hijacking and who leaked my personal identifying information and private chats with her to the Twitter trolls and worse - went to Clearsky and harvested my replies without the posts I was replying to, leaked them to the YouTube streamers and Twitter trolls, along with selected portions of our lengthy private chat from Discord, then threatened Rainbow Passage with another attack if they didn't "denounce" me and my replies to the disgusting attacks on me by the Trans Trumpers of Bluesky.

To prove her point, this young trans woman and her girlfriend started a thread about me on Kiwi Farms, where I was the featured post for about a week, and told Rainbow Passage that the same would happen to them - and worse, including the revocation of their nonprofit status with the IRS and the end of their ability to raise funds - if they didn't publicly condemn me for my Bluesky attack replies.

And what did the oh-so-courageous chairwoman and board members who "cared so much" about me, do in response to those threats?

They caved. They capitulated. They allowed a troubled individual with an axe to grind and her little gang of fake-outraged trans shitposters to dictate their handling of a serious and sensitive matter where a former director of the organization and his family were in active danger and under siege. These people, who claim to have the bravery to "rescue" endangered trans people from Texas and Florida, folded like a cheap tissue-paper prom dress, revealing their utter lack of integrity, ethics, or courage.

The statement Rainbow Passage put out, which at this writing has been seen by at least 60,000 people on Twitter alone, is filled with false accusations about my attitude toward the transgender members of the LGBTQ+ community, outright lies about my character and conduct, weirdly characterizes me as a predatory stalker, and warns the general public that I am a bad, bad person who should be avoided and shunned as unfit for decent people in a civilized society. They provide ZERO evidence to support any of their claims against me, their accusations and assertions about me, or their characterization of me as "transphobic."

From my statement below: "Rainbow Passage knew that issuing this statement would intensify the threats, harassment, and stalking of me and my family. They issued it anyway. This statement is a willful and malicious act of violence.

"Rainbow Passage caused a queer elder with AIDS to be featured on a website known for harassing LGBTQ+ people to death and driving them from their homes, while smearing him to hundreds of thousands of people and inciting attacks on him and his family - but they want you to trust them to keep our most vulnerable members safe from harm."

If Rainbow Passage can't and won't protect their own staff (and volunteers, and clients) from harmful exposure to malicious attackers online and IRL, and shifts blame for their failures and lapses of care onto the staff members while caving to threats from random kids, how can they be trusted to keep the most vulnerable members of this community safe from harm during one of their "rescue" missions? If something goes wrong and that client ends up in jail, will Rainbow Passage blame the client for that outcome the same way they're blaming me for their colossal failure to keep their own people safe?

Rainbow Passage's rank AIDSphobia, their calculated smear of a four-decade veteran LGBTQ+ and HIV/AIDS activist, their capitulation to threats from an under-21 trans Kiwi Farms shitposter with an axe to grind, and their hateful, craven, deliberate act of putting my family and me in physical danger, show them to be not only a collection of unwise and uncaring individuals who have abused me and betrayed my trust: The current chairwoman, board, and staff of Rainbow Passage are manifestly and utterly unfit to run this organization. They are not capable of keeping our most vulnerable members out of harm's way, they should not be regarded as worthy of our trust in any way, personally or professionally, and the organization needs to be stripped of its nonprofit status and must cease operations so that a new LGBTQ+ and trans rescue group can quickly be established and get to work.

[Alt text and screenshots follow after the jump.]

STATEMENT OF ANIMAL J. SMITH REGARDING THE RAINBOW PASSAGE SMEAR CAMPAIGN

These allegations are false. Rainbow Passage is deliberately and maliciously spreading lies about me to hundreds of thousands of people on this and other platforms in a calculated smear campaign to cover up their reckless disregard for the safety of their vulnerable clients and their failure to protect them. To date, they have provided no explanation or evidence of "transphobic rhetoric and behavior" on my part. They failed to protect me, a former director of the organization, from sustained and brutal online harassment, threats, doxing, and stalking that began more than three weeks ago and continues unabated with the active encouragement of chair Amy Nicole Check and the members of the board, putting me and my family in danger of being driven from our home and causing major distress and disruption to our lives and health.

On Saturday, April 13th, I received word that the Rainbow Passage website had been targeted by YouTube streamers who had seen a rival say good things about the organization and went to the website to find information that would "expose" Rainbow Passage. The trolls found my name and photograph, then went into my public-facing social media and began streaming about me and my life and work.

In several lengthy videos and livestreams, the YouTube trolls held me and my family up for sustained public ridicule, humiliation, and targeted harassment, spreading to more than a quarter-million people details about my personal life, my sex life, my family, my being a survivor of September 11th, the fact that I have AIDS, and every other aspect of my life and history that they could harvest. Although my social media is largely public by design, the contents were never intended to be stolen and distributed to thousands in a malicious manner designed to damage me.

The only reason I was targeted and humiliated in this way is that I was a director for Rainbow Passage and was discovered when the organization's unsecured, login-free website was targeted - a scenario I had warned them about on multiple occasions. Despite my warnings, no security measures were ever implemented. On Monday, April 15th, I resigned my position due to Check's exploding at me in an unprovoked torrent of verbal abuse during a call that afternoon.

My work as an LGBTQ+ and HIV/AIDS activist over the past 38 years (including ACT/UP, Queer Nation SF, AIDS quarantine initiatives, medical cannabis, marriage equality, and prisoners with AIDS) is well known and has always included advocacy for the transgender community. In fact, I have prioritized trans rights activism in response to the rising tide of hatred toward transgender Americans, and I have received support from people in the transgender community who know me and have seen me in action as an activist and a friend.

After an initial offer of help that wouldn't come for a full week, I said that my family and I were in immediate danger, that this was happening solely because I was part of their organization, and that their security failure was to blame. They then instantly denied any responsibility, blamed me for the situation, and withdrew their offer of help. I have been told that they are aware of the ongoing harassment and cyberbullying being directed at my family and me. They knew that this statement would intensify the threats, harassment, and stalking of me and my family. They issued it anyway. This statement is a willful and malicious act of violence.

Rainbow Passage was threatened by the leaders of these attacks that if they did not "denounce" me they would face the loss of their tax-exempt status and worse. As part of the threat, I was featured on the front page of the notorious Kiwi Farms website, a 4chan-like forum known for driving their LGBTQ+ targets into hiding and to suicide.

Rainbow Passage caused a queer elder with AIDS to be featured on a website known for harassing LGBTQ+ people to death and driving them from their homes, while smearing him to hundreds of thousands of people and inciting attacks on him and his family - but they want you to trust them to keep our most vulnerable members safe from harm.

These liars want you to believe the fiction that a four-decade LGBTQ+ activist is a predatory transphobe. They think you'll fall for the stories they're telling and approve of the damage they're causing. What nerve. Their contempt for me - and for you - has no place in our community or in our lives.

- Animal J. Smith, April 25, 2024