#oh god what have i wrote...

[elizabethzoopzoop986]

I hate this fucking manga how am I supposed to have a life and write essays about shit when I sit down start to think and all that comes to mind is some gay little toilet freaks istg it’s a hard knock life

[applecranberryjuice]

Something something it's a metaphor. Hair as a form of communication but also as passage of time and also as a way for letting people in and also as a detail etc etc you get it

Actual explanation in the tags btw

I'm really nervous about this comic actually, is not the best. It doesn't make sense, and the art is mid, but I put love in it and I think that's enough

[mihotose]

harry sneaks out to the doomed commercial area at night after kim's gone to bed and does an Am i homo-sexual quiz using fortress accident's old radiocomputer (he just desperately asks yvonne what she thinks about it)

[thefloatingwriter]

sunrise on the reaping is where headcanons go to die.

[desceros]

me, innocent, a victim: [goes to look for something in my phone's photoroll] me: [is violently assaulted by gb art] donatello/reader; gn reader; rated t

When you open your eyes, you see, to your shock, Donatello. 

Well. It’s hardly surprising that he’s in your bed, considering he’s been getting pretty good at the whole mind-melting orgasm thing. Maybe half of the nights of your week lately have ended up with your eyes drinking in the sight of him caging you in, your wrists aching with the tightness of his fingers holding them above your head, and your ears singing with the sound of him whining your name when he comes. It’s incredible—he’s incredible—and you’d be pressed picking a time in your life you’ve been happier.

But this. This is… new. 

He’s not wearing his mask. That’s the first thing that catches your attention, once you’re able to move past the totality of his presence in the gentle rays of dawn streaming through your window. He looks… softer, somehow. Different. There’s a closeness to him, physically, literally, that makes you tremble a bit in your very skin. Like you’ve never really been with him before, absurd as it sounds even in your own head. He’s touched you the way no one else has—the way no one else ever, ever will, if you have your way about it—but this. This. 

God. He’s beautiful, you think, gazing at each inch of his uncovered skin and searing it to your mind. You’ve always been attracted to him, but here, it takes your breath away. The curve of his beak beneath his eyes, the angle of his jaw, the squish of his cheek where he’s sleeping on your pillow, the little puffs of air that snooze out with each breath; all of it entrances you, making your lips quiver. 

Slowly, gently, almost hating yourself for it, you reach out. An impossible temptation to resist. The very tips of your fingers on his face, tracing from temple to chin, over and over as you memorize this unseen part of him. Odd, how it feels like you’re pining, yearning for him, when you still feel the aches in your body from how thoroughly he’d had you last night. 

…Though, you suppose, that was him having you. And this is—

—this is you having him. 

Donnie’s lips curl at the corner, and you know you’re busted. Suddenly shy, you fight the urge to pull away, to pretend you weren’t consuming the sight of him. It’s a vulnerable feeling, but you’re rewarded when he opens one eye, blearily meeting your gaze. 

“…Aren’t you usually the one nagging me to sleep?” he says in a mumble, causing you to smile sheepishly. 

“I… couldn’t resist,” you admit quietly, your touch garnering a bit of weight now that he’s awake.

“Had to check and make sure I was real under my mask?” he teases, and it’s tempting to follow him down the path. Tasting bravery on your tongue, you resist. 

“Too handsome not to,” you tell him honestly, cupping his cheek with your palm. You feel the hitch in his breath, the warmth that spreads onto his cheeks even as his scales don’t allow for a blush. “Needed to.” 

Donnie stares for a moment, then gives a breathy laugh, reaching out to grasp your hand from his face and bringing it so he can press a kiss to your palm. This, too, is new—this quiet, non-sexual intimacy. It makes you feel warm, a bit like you’re the one who’s been basking in the sunlight, not him. 

“You’re obnoxiously romantic in the morning, huh?” he murmurs. He doesn’t sound displeased. Giddily, you wiggle closer, feeling him reach out to slide a hand to your back to help pull you close, until only a sigh separates your face and his, your legs so tangled together only the roughness of his scales tells them apart.

“…I could be obnoxiously romantic all the time,” you tell him, looking between his eyes as the other opens, seeing the tender expression on his face. “…If you wanted me to.”

A comforting, familiar, possessive hand cups your nape, his thumb tracing the soft skin beneath your ear. A dazzling glissando of sensation runs along his touch, making your eyes flutter for a moment before you lick your lips and focus on him again. 

Finally, he smiles, an honest little thing that transfigures your heart into a tiny hummingbird. “Yeah,” he says, his tone as warm as the coming morning. “That… sounds great.”

And then, as if sealing a promise, he pulls you close for a kiss even softer than the sheets that ensconce you both. Humming into it, you melt, nuzzling his beak with a lustrous glow beneath your skin. Then—slowly, gently—your fingers again find unmasked skin, loving, claiming, confident now in the long rays of dawn.

[gingermintpepper]

As usual I read your tags always and so you said Apollo did not ask for resurrection of Asclepius and Hyacinthus so i just wanted to share this. About Asclepius death I read it on theoi.com, that earlier authors don't make him resurrect as a god but that's a later development mentioned only by Roman authors like Cicero, Hyginus and Ovid. But still Apollo has a role in Ovid's version

Ovid, Fasti 6. 735 ff (trans.Boyle) (Roman poetry C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) : Clymenus [Haides] and Clotho resent the threads of life respun and death's royal rights diminished. Jove [Zeus] feared the precedent and aimed his thunderbolt at the man who employed excessive art. Phoebus [Apollon], you whined. He is a god; smile at your father, who, for your sake, undoes his prohibitions [i.e. when he obtains immortality for Asklepios].

So here it is actually because of Apollo the decision was taken to resurrect him as god. And with Hyacinthus, I don't think I've read about Artemis playing the primary role. I know in Sparta there was a picture of Artemis, Athena and Aphrodite carrying Hyacinthus and his sister to heaven.

This is not on theoi.com but I saw on Tumblr it's from Dionysiaca by Nonnus

Second, my lord Oiagros wove a winding lay, as the father of Orpheus who has the Muse his boon companion. Only a couple of verses he sang, a ditty of Phoibos, clearspoken in few words after some Amyclaian style: Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

So since he is singing inspired by amyclean stories it probably means in that place it was believed Apollo was the one to bring back his lover to life.

Apollo as god of order was very important so i think it shows how special these people (and admetus too) were to him that he decided to go against the order for them 🥺

ANON!! Shakes you like a bottle of ramune!! BELOVED ANON!!!!! I'm littering your face with kisses, I'm anointing you with olive oil and honey - you absolutely made my night with this because, not only did I get the pure serotonin shot of having someone interact with my tags (yippee, wahoo!!) I also got to have that wonderful feeling of "oh wow, have I misunderstood something that was integral to my understanding of this myth/figure this whole time or is this a case of interpretational differences?" which is imo vital for my aims and interests as someone who enjoys mythological content and literature.

I'll preface my response with this: Hyacinthus is by far the hardest of these to get accounts for because his revival itself, as you very astutely point out, is generally accounted for in painting/ritual format which muddies the waters on who interceded for what. I wasn't actually familiar with that passage from the Argonautica - and certainly didn't remember it so thank you very much for bringing it to my attention!

That said, what I've come to understand, both about Hyacinthus and about Asclepius is that in the accounts of their deaths, Apollo's position is startlingly clear.

For Hyacinthus, it is established time and again that Apollo would have sacrificed everything for him - his status, his power, his very own immortality and divinity. Ovid writes that Apollo would have installed him as a god if only he had the time:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses. Book X. trans. Johnston)

Many other writers too speak of how Apollo abandoned his lyre and his seat at Delphi to spend his days with Hyacinthus, but they also all agree that when it came to his death - he was powerless. Ovid gives that graphic account of Apollo's desperation as he tries all his healing arts to save him to no avail:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book X. Apollo me boy, methinks him dead. trans Johnston)

Bion, in one of his fragments, writes that Apollo was "dumb" upon seeing Hyacinthus' agony:

(Bion, The Bucolic Poets. Fragment XI. trans Edmonds)

Even Nonnus in the Dionysiaca speaks constantly of Apollo's helplessness in the face of Hyacinthus' fate where he writes that the god still shivers if a westward wind blows upon an iris:

and when Zephyros breathed through the flowery garden, Apollo turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf...

(Nonnus, Dionysiaca, Book 3. trans Rouse)

And the point here is just that - Apollo, at least as far as I've read, cannot avert someone's death. He simply can't. Once they're already dead - once Fate has cut their string - all Apollo's power is gone and he can do nothing no matter how much he wants to. And this is, as far as I know, supported with the accounts of Asclepius as well!

Since you specifically brought up Ovid's account, I'll also stick only to Ovid's account but in Metamorphoses when we get Ovid's version of Coronis' demise, he writes that Apollo intensely and immediately regrets slaughtering Coronis. He regrets it so intensely that he, like he does with Hyacinthus, does his best to resuscitate her:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo's regret)

And like Hyacinthus, when it becomes clear that what has happened cannot be undone, Apollo wails:

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo wept.)

Unlike his mother, Asclepius in her womb had not yet died and so, with the last of Apollo's strength, he does manage, at least, to save him.

(Ovid, Metamorphoses Book Two. Apollo puts the 'tearing out' in Asclepius.)

But it goes further than even that because Ocyrhoe, Chiron's daughter, a prophetess who unduly gained the ability to directly proclaim the secrets of the Fates, upon seeing the baby Asclepius, immediately prophesies his glory, his inevitable death and then his fated ascension:

(Ovid. Metamorphoses, Book Two. Ocyrhoe's prophecy. trans Johnston)

Before she too succumbs to her hubris and is transformed by the Fates into a horse so she can no longer speak secrets that aren't hers to share.

These things ultimately are important because it establishes two very important things: 1) Apollo can't do anything in the face of the ultimate Fate of mortals, which is, of course, death and 2) even when Apollo is Actively Devastated, regretful, yearning, mournful, guilty or some unholy combination of all of the above, when someone is dead, he accepts that they are gone. Even if he is devastated by it, even if he'll cry all the rest of his days about it - if they're dead? Apollo lets them go. In Fasti, when Zeus brings Asclepius back, he does not say Apollo asked him to - Zeus, or well, in this case Jove, brings Asclepius back because he wants Apollo to stop being mad at him.

(Ovid, Fasti VI. Apollo please come home your father misses you. trans. A.S Kline)

Even Boyle's translation which you used above in your findings hints that Zeus made Asclepius a god because he wanted Apollo to stop grieving. (i.e 'smile at your father', 'for your sake [he] undoes his prohibitions')

And like, Apollo was deeply upset by Asclepius' death - apart from killing the Cyclops in anger, in book 4 of the Argonautica, Apollonius writes that the Celts believe the stream of Eridanus to be the tears Apollo shed over the death of Asclepius when he left for Hyperborea after being chastised by Zeus for killing his Cyclops:

But the Celts have attached this story to them, that these are the tears of Leto's son, Apollo, that are borne along by the eddies, the countless tears that he shed aforetime when he came to the sacred race of the Hyperboreans and left shining heaven at the chiding of his father, being in wrath concerning his son whom divine Coronis bare in bright Lacereia at the mouth of Amyrus.

It all paints a very clear picture to me. Apollo did not ask for either of them to be brought back. Though bringing them back certainly pleased and delighted him, they are actions of other gods who are moved by Apollo's grief and mourning and seek to mollify him. Him not asking doesn't mean he didn't want them back which I think is a very important distinction by the by, but it simply means that Apollo knows the natural order of things and, even if it hurts, he isn't going to press his luck about it.

Which, of course, brings us to Admetus. And I'm really not going to overcomplicate this, Admetus is different because, very vitally, Admetus is not dead. Apollo can't do a thing once Fate has been carried out and Death has claimed a mortal but you know what he absolutely can do? Bargain like hell with the Fates before that point of inevitability. And that's what he does, ultimately for Admetus and Alcestis. He sought to prolong Admetus' life, not revive him from death or absolve him from death altogether and even after getting the Fates drunk, he's still only able to organise a sacrifice - a life for a life - something completely contingent on whether some other mortal would be willing to die in Admetus' place and not at all controllable by Apollo's own power.

All of these things, I think come back to that point you made - that Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore these people are very special to him if it means he's willing to go against that order but, I also wish to challenge that opinion if you'd let me. Apollo's place as a god of order is very important and therefore, I would argue, that it is even more important that it is shown that he does not break the divine order, especially for the people that mean the most to him. The original context of my comments which started this conversation were on this lovely, lovely post by @hyacinthusmemorial which contemplated upon Asclepius from the perspective of an Emergency Medical personnel and included, in their tags, the very poignant lines "there's something about Apollo letting go when Asclepius couldn't that eats my heart away" and "you do what you can, you do your best, but you don't ever reach too far" and I think that's perfectly embodied with the Apollo-Asclepius dichotomy. Apollo grieves. He wails, he cries, he does his best each and every time to save that which is precious to him but he does not curse their nature, he does not resent that they are human and ultimately, he accepts that that which is mortal must inevitably die. There is nothing that so saliently proves that those who uphold rules are also their most staunch followers - if Apollo wants to delight in his place as Fate's mouthpiece, he cannot undo Fate. And, if even the god of healing and order himself cannot undo death, what right does Asclepius, mortal as he is, talented as he is, have to disrespect it?

The beauty of these stories isn't that Apollo loved them enough to bring them back. The beauty is that Apollo loved them enough to let them go.

[velvetwyrme]

🗞️💥💥!!!

A little comic based on my initial response to @wave-nine's post ;3c

[brother-emperors]

Did you used to like Mark Antony and dislike Cassius? What changed your mind ?

honestly the condensed version of events is that Antony and Brutus became uninteresting, extremely boring as POV characters to me at the same time for the same reasons, that prompted me to look closer at Cassius, and then I decided to spend two years trying to untangle Cassius from Brutus which completed my transformation into a part time Cassius apologist

like, both Antony and Brutus are still compelling figures, it’s honestly the versions of them in media and pop culture that I personally dislike and find boring because it’s not discussing anything I find interesting & frequently I feel like my time has been wasted, while their historical counterparts is more of a ‘wow I hate what you’re doing, keep it up!’

and ofc: the general passage of time. you get older. things that interest you change. being a hater as a recreational activity is fun. variety is the spice of life. people who write about Cassius are delivering poetry and I’m not immune to it. etc etc.

[fumifooms]

I think you made me start shipping Marchil

Your posts got me thinking about their dynamic then I wrote a fic that was supposed to be platonic but midway through I realized it could actually be interpreted as romantic too and now I'm just sad about how little time they'll have together

First of all, you have a lovely icon, second, I’m so honored… I finally read Not a bad way to go and it was soo so good like. My god!!! Pre-canon is underused and you did so many interesting things with it.

It sounded like a cruel joke, that the one who needed her concern the most was also the one least interested in it.

^^^ go read it go read it

Chilchuck was drunk enough that he needed to hold onto the walls not to fall, but apparently still sober enough to remember emotional vulnerability was his worst enemy, as he made sure to avert her eyes and said: “Namari made me come talk to you ” to make it clear he wasn't being nice voluntarily.

Yeah.

“Of course I'm scared of dying.” He scoffed. Did she really think so little of him? “But if I could choose, I would want to die doing something I love, like drinking. Or maybe fucking,”

Maybe you wish you didn’t know but my new favorite HC because of this is that Chil dies yes prematurely not of liver failure though but during coitus. Especially if marchil, the thought of him busting a nut and his heart giving out makes me laugh so hard. My god. Lmao. Oh god. Lmfao. Worst day of her life

Marcille knew Chilchuck wasn't a kid, but she often struggled to take him seriously as an adult because he was just so adorable and small. In this moment, however, she saw them exactly for what they were, even if it was just a glimpse. A sheltered, naive little girl trying to tell a tired, much more experienced man how to live the rest of his life.

Standing ovation

She tried to find an explanation to give him, but she couldn't even find one for herself. Why would she miss him? He was just Chilchuck, her coworker, Chilchuck who was cold, aloof, sometimes crass, evasive, and even outright mean. He who was level headed, reliable, trustworthy, perceptive and clever. He who had the least time left, even in a best case scenario. “I guess that despite your best efforts, there's still a lot to like about you.”

This fic goes so hard, standing ovation pt 2

“I just think it's better if we don't get too close. Don't you agree?” “I… maybe” she said, uncertain as he didn't know how to feel about that. Caring about people would only hurt her in the wrong run, she knew that, but unfortunately she couldn't help it.

I looove how they can be read to be similar on this aspect. My hand clenching around my phone as I rear up to rant about Marcille and the way she does keep people at an arm’s length subconsciously again my god my goood. Obsessed with this obsessed with this, underused for marchil. Terrified of loss through death vs rejection duo I love youuu

Brilliant ending I’m in shambles. I’m not gonna spoil it

You get marchil so much you truly do. The way they mesh, the way their views on mortality clash and both soothe & bruise… He doesn’t have much time left even in best case scenario (which Mr I won’t eat well I’ll drink and smoke a lot I’ll stress all day every day is determined to not make happen) which makes it all the more meaningful for Marcille’s arc when she learns from him to finally enjoy the present moments… It’ll only be a fraction of her life, but to him he’s giving her the rest of his life. What are some decades of love worth? Worth it, surely, if nothing else

[smoosnoom]

corollary

“Okay,” Mike echoes. “So, I was – thinking. We should sleep together." Will, for some reason, still looks lost, but he looks cute – sweet, like that, pink cheeks and eyes wide and glossy and the slight furrow of his eyebrows like Mike has given him something outlandish. “I,” he starts, “don’t understand.”

Mike proposes a sleepover.

Unsurprisingly, no sleeping is done.

[poly-space-nerds]

Finally, after centuries of pining for this dark haired man in front of him, Hob holds Dream in his arms.

Finally, he thinks, as Dream kisses him passionately, hands holding his cheeks close. He opens his mouth, tongues sliding together.

He tastes- He tastes like- What does he taste like? Rain? A forest? An aged book? Blast. How come book characters always know what a person tastes like? See, this was why I was never a poet. It’s okay though. Maybe Shakespeare turned his head but look who’s holding him now? Ha you-

“Have you gotten lost Hob Gadling?” The voice of his stranger gets him out of his thoughts. He’s about to make an excuse when he sees the look on his lover’s face. It’s incredibly soft and fond. The corners of his mouth are lifted almost as if he’s amused by Hob’s daydreaming.

“Oh bugger off.” Hob says as he captures Dreams lips again.

[insanelyadd]

31 Doodles Of Halloween Year 10 | Day 23 | Invader Zim

I was literally so obsessed with Invader Zim when I was younger that I began to speak to myself in the third person and it affected my posture. Like I would stand how they stand with my hips pushed forward and my shoulders pushed back and my wrists bent as much as possible. Oh something similar happened with the subject of yesterday's picture too, where I got so obsessed with vampires that I taught myself how to sprint completely silently and also very quickly. I also taught myself to walk so it looked like I was gliding. Haven't kept up with any of that tho. I should try doing all of that again. I'd love to improve my posture and sprint through the night like a fucked up ghost.

[shima-draws]

Seething at one of the tags on that poll saying FMA is a military + genocide apologist anime have you even WATCHED it

[arggghhhsstuff]

pjo fandom i'm back prepare to be sick of me

[sweetshire]

denethor is said to have been greatly affected by finduilas’ death, right. and i know their marriage was a political one but i like to believe that they still loved each other. not in the ‘traditional sense’ i guess but they loved each other’s spirits, their souls. the duty (as they viewed it) to protect their people & the willpower to do it, they both shared. and so i think that more precious than love, they understood each other perfectly. as no one else could, or did. i can’t stop thinking about denethor’s grief at losing her. to love someone, and to have them understand you, but to lose them so abruptly… no wonder denethor became embittered by her death. i think he became sad too. closed-off. built even more walls around him, not wanting to be seen as vulnerable by anyone. but his anger, at what (or whom), exactly? he already broke up with god when he was young. at the universe? at his fate? to have lost her so unfairly.

i came here to talk about their love & somewhere in the middle lost myself in his grief lol. never mind, bc what is grief if not love persevering????? they loved each other. i can’t. i CAN’T get over this simple truth. the love was there. it wouldn’t have been this tragic if there’s wasn’t. the love was there. and isn’t that enough (it isn’t. but it is. IT IS). the love was there. THE LOVE WAS. THERE. sobbing. truly sobbing DON’T TOUCH ME

[averlym]

some very very quick costume shorthands!