#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

[yume-fanfare]

gentle rejection

[vaguely-concerned]

I think the most defining thing about kremy as a person is that he desperately wants to be a man with a mustache -- while being physically, biologically incapable of producing hair follicles lol. like no wonder he takes to drag so much, that's basically most of what he's already doing with his outward identity! and the physical aspect of that is smaller, I feel, than what he's got going on psychologically. he's someone who doesn't want to be -- can't be? -- who and what he is, and who can't be what he wants to be because what he wants to be doesn't really exist, so he lives his life somewhere on the border between them. the almiraj might be no mirage, but the perfectly clever and charming and utterly untouchable version of kremy that kremy would like to be -- instead of the vulnerable neurotic mess of longing and fear and striving for control he clearly actually is -- absolutely is, I'm afraid. it's just a shadow on the wall with nothing real to cast it.

(all of this also goes into the many Gender and trans readings of him too, of course! men will say they’re fighting demons and the demons are trying to live up to a very specific brand of toxic masculinity they've sort of invented for themselves lol)  

the one deep down entrenched assumption we see kremy make again and again especially interpersonally is that if he's open with who he really is and what he feels or thinks at any given time, he would be revealed as fundamentally unacceptable and at best discarded and abandoned, at worst endangered. (it's literally spelled out with the cyclops in the witchlight carnival, but you see him go through this process all the time through the rest of the story too! being unable to lie or dissemble was a catastrophic event in this dude’s inner landscape. I’m sure that means nothing) and because he is also frequently kind of awful this assumption may not be entirely off base some of the time lol (deeply affectionate), but I think it comes from a much deeper place than that. kremy is ashamed of where he's from and who he's been -- that dirt poor wide-eyed kid from the swamp who saw all the fancy gentlemen in town and Wanted. wanted to be that, wanted to have that power, probably some confused sexuality want mixed up with it all as well for spice. wanted more than anything, perhaps, to BE something, because next to that he feels like nothing. which means abandoning the earnest kid who guilelessly loved unicorns and his meemaw and cooking without meaning to impress anyone and silly soft things in the swamp he came from while he went off to the big city and modeled himself after men like garou. (and his relationship with garou surely also had some effects on just how shifty he's become at intimacy too, aside from the building a facade of it all, that might be some secondary damage that was not his fault nor in his control at all)

even when he's acting seemingly shamelessly, he is fundamentally a shame-based psychology, is what I'm trying to get at. the only times he lets his thoughts and emotions out into the world unfiltered is when he's brought to a point of frustration where he throws up his hands and abandons manipulation or subtle machinations as an interpersonal tactic -- see: the several times he argues something with frost or gricko and then finally admits 'I literally don't actually care about this! you guys figure it out and deal with this if it matters so much to you I'm going to bed ffs' haha. his depression shines through when he’s too tired to hide it, especially in the later episodes. every open emotion is an admission he really didn't want to make and thinks is tactically disadvantageous for him. (and sometimes when he's being really for real he'll even admit to being worse than people gave him credit for, like when he admits he suspected mr. witch and mr. light were capable of doing something really really bad to torbek and handed him over anyway. kremy being that blunt and open is like. remarkable and also a sign that he's actually taking it seriously, for all that he's also revealing himself to be even more of an asshole than previously suspected lmao. that's not nothing, for kremy. BUT at the same time he is also the person who cried to see a unicorn broken and abused, and who saw something in gideon upon meeting him that no one else did or cared to at that time and offered him genuine companionship and support — as the story goes on he’s starting to admit to more things about himself, the bad and the good.)

all of which of course also is why he's having such a hard time being honest with gideon about how he feels (and the sheer immensity with which he feels it too, probably) -- that's incredibly vulnerable for a person who’s built himself up around the idea of never being vulnerable. ('i'm just a shadow, nothing you do can really touch or hurt me.') And yet if there’s peace and redemption to be found for kremy, if only within his own soul, between these versions of himself, I feel that discovering and accepting his own capacity for loving someone else so much that it transcends all selfishness or fear would be integral to it. (he loves gideon. So much it makes me a bit dizzy you guys)

[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)

[defiledtomb]

we're so fucking back baby

[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.

[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.

[doodlemcnoodlee]

Uh, I might have gotten to hyper focussed on The dark Side of the Moon lol

Anyways enjoy, this is the longest fanfic I’ve written! Very fun :D

The Dark side of the moon had always been something to be hidden like he was a disgrace among men, never worth the slightest whisper of his name beside the venomous words of Luna when he even bothered being awake during Luna's few break from watching over Earth, when their body became to tired after slaving away to make sure their orbit was intact and Earth's tilt was just right, he wasn't worth having a name of his very own or even an identity beside Luna's dark side always destined to face away from their planet until the very end.

He would never get to shear the joy that sparks in their core as Luna watches Earth's inhabitants go about they're day life, he'd never get to feel the love they so willingly give back to their moon for watching over them all those years, thanking the Moon full heartily for stabilizing their seas and for keeping them safe as they dance under the moon filled sky, many Earthlings have loved Luna for billions of years and well continue loving him for billions more, while Earth and him never get the same respect, Earth can keep Luna (for the most part anyways) in the dark of the Earthlings true statistic nature, it's him who has to hear Earth's soft whimpers long after Luna has fallen asleep, all while not being able to do a dame thing about it. 

He can only slowly orbit as he listen to their planet weep and cry in pain after so many years of abuse, Earth's illusion of grander and endless self-worth being stripped away as soon as the others rest, when there's  no one left to judge him for his tears as they could never understand the sharp, piercing pain Earth feels on a never ending basis, his body becoming numb to the pain as the wars continue on and as his very own materials being use to rip apart his surface pice by pice by the selfish men thinking of their own wellbeing instead of the Earthling they so mercilessly killed.

no other planet could have been begin to understand how it feels, not even Mars who had a Earthling base be set up on his surface, as it's only one compared to billions, none of them knew how it felt to be nothing more then a secret side of someone else, forced to watch as other's live the life you always wanted, to be loved and cherish by few but with their love being stronger then hundreds others, being able to feel their planets arms around you rest on their chest, his soft voice singing lolling you into deep sleep, with no care in the world other then the vibrating as they speak to you quietly.

Instead he was delegated to being a bystanders in his own body, forced to listen as Earth kisses Luna's face and whispers how much he loves his 'only' moon, being completely unaware of another just waiting to be heard, as he scream for anyone to notice him just for once, is that really so hard to ask for? He just wants to be hear, just wants to be loved much like Luna is, as said moon begin to make friends outside of Earth, he wishes for nothing more then to be able to experience the same life as Luna has, as he gets to talk with the other moons and joke around with the rocky planet as they play card games or as  his surface burns, hot at their planet teasing Luna about his 'small' crush on Titan, he wishes more the anything then to experience the same things! To go through the small yet meaningful moments of being alive, of being able to live instead of being trapped in a body he could barely even consider his own, he wishes to be something more then a  shadow in someone else's life forever delegated to be hidden away, never to be seen by anyone.

———————————————————————

It was any other night as he drifted slowly around Earth, looking up at shining stars littering the sky around them, it was probably the only benefits of being awake, instead of trapped away in Luna's mind, he would really watch them for hours on end, never getting bored of the same old sight, it was truly beautiful after seeing nothingness for so many orbits, until Luna decided to give up control for once, and he was grateful for it even if it was just for his other side's benefit, he didn't care, as long as he got to see the stars again, just as he began to get comfortable a voice broke the silences.

"Luna? Are you still up?" Their planet asked as he looked up at them, rubbing gently at his eyes. He could feel their body grow tense as he felt Earth's eye stay focused on them, never looking away even for a second.

 "I know you're awake Luna, there's no point in pretending you're not." Earth continues letting out a small huff of air as his natural satellite remains silent.

 His throat grew tight as panic set in, their planet had never noticed him move during the night before, why now?! Was the change in tides that noticeable as he went off their usual path? "Ugh! Luna, come on! Why are you ignoring me?!" The worry begin to turn into frustrated as the moon refused to answer him, his voice growing louder as he spoke, he could feel the Earth moving closer to them, his core ached with worry, Earth was never meant to find out about him, Luna made sure of that and would be furious if his secret got out, he needed to wake Luna up and fast! But before he could a warm hand grab harshly onto his arm, unintentionally burning him  after so many years of no celestial contact.

"please Luna just talk to me! It's fine if you're upset! But we both promise to tell each other our issues instead of bottling them up!" He could hear the desperation in their planet's voice as the moon remained quiet, only after touching 'Luna' could Earth feel the moon's body begin to shake as fear developed his core, he didn't know what to do! What could he do? Luna wasn't waking up and their planet wouldn't let them escape now. 

"..."

Silence filled the air as neither spoke, Earth's grip only grew tighter as worry over took any anger he might have had, a quite "Luna?" Escaped his lips, barely audible in the cold night sky, there was no other sound around them beside the soft snores of Mars near by, "are you okay?" He finished, his planet's voice was soft and loving, like nothing he had ever done heard before, at lest not directed at him, his body only shock more as emotion started to swell in his stomach bagging to be free but instead coming out as small tears dripping down his face, unsure how to act after so long of being relegated into the shadows. "OMG, LUNA!" Earth shouted barely being able to catch the small moon before his knees gave out completely, slowly lowering both of them to the floor as Earth hugged the celestial being as it cries rippled through it's body holding tightly onto his planet's hoodie as his tears wet the soft fabric "shh it's okay, everything is going to be okay" Earth now whispered gently in his ear tucking their silver hair behind it as he did, the planet's other hand rubbing the small circles onto his back, trying desperately to calm the small moon now holding onto him for dear life.

"I-I-I'm not L-Luna!" The small moon cried out digging his face deeper into the planet's hoodie as he did, he could feel Earth's hands stop it's rubbing motion and his breathing growing thin against his ear as he pulled away. He could only let out another loud cry as he feared for what's to come, why did he have to say anything? He could have just stayed quiet and let the Earth sing him to sleep just like he heard their planet do too Luna all those times before!

"Uhhh, w-what?" He could hear the confusion in Earth's voice as he spoke. Feeling the tears wetting his hoodie as the small Moon cried harder into his chest, their fingers griping harshly onto the fabric still refusing to let go, Earth cleared his throat with a cough before he tried speaking again "what do you mean? Bring his other hand originally in his hair down to wrap the small moon into a warm hug, he could help but lean into it no matter how overstimulated it was for him.

"I- (hic)" the small moon began before a small hiccup interrupted him "I...I-I'm n-no-not Lu-na" his voice was rough after so many years of not speaking to anyone but Luna, making his  vocal cords striated and hard to use. "I-I'm h-h-is d-da-ark s-side" even after he finish Earth didn't push him away like he had feared, didn't yell and scream at him like Luna made him believe after so many years to listening to Luna's mind making up every possible out come of Earth finding out about him. Instead the habitual planet arm tighten around him, letting him cry into his chest as he resumed rubbing small circles into his back.

But Earth didn't let the silence continue for long before as countless questions began to pop up in his mind "If you're Luna's dark side how come I never heard of you before" their planet asked trying to keep his voice a levelled and quiet as possible as to not scare the small moon again, "how come this is the first time I've meet you?"

"Be-because L-lu-Luna didn't want you too, neither of us did..." he answered, his voice thick as he spoke, turning his head slightly to breath in the cold space 'air' filling his lungs with the fresh air, his brain relax as he stoped suffocating himself with Earth's hoodie.

Earth's brows lowered as he looked down on the small satellite in his lap, listening to their soft breath as they start to calm down, "Why didn't you want to meet me?" He asked, letting the small moon take their time to answer as he continued to rub his back gently.

"Luna didn't want you to hate us for being wired, because we sheared a body, he didn't want me to scare you from randomly showing up one day ..." his mouth felt dry as he spoke, his voice wavering as he finished, he could feel Earth's warm hands move gently to underneath his chin as he lifted his head to look straight into the moon's eyes.

"Oh, Moonlight, I could never hate you, either of you!" Earth said his eyes were soft and loving just like his voice, making the smaller's core melt like sweet honey in hot tea, as their planet's hands move again to cup either side of the moon's face wiping away any remaining tears off his cheeks, "And how could I ever be scared of such a cute face!" Earth's caring voice made him want to cry all over again as relief floods to his core, as all the guilt and hatred he had being lifted off his shoulders, shoving his face into Earth hoodie, before small tears escaped his closed eyes as HIS planet returned to rub his back gently as the shock of the moon's sudden movement wore off, instead Earth quietly hummed to his satellite, a smile etched into his face, as he looked up at the stars above them, his mind wondering as he thought about his moons, "do you have a name? Earth asked before he was able to stop himself "like Luna" he continued his core aches at the moon freezing in his arms.

A quiet "No." was his only answer as the moon fingers traced down the planet's hoodie, enjoying the soft fabric against his skin and the short distraction from the sinking feeling settling in his stomach, he never like thinking about his lack of a name.

"Would you like one?" Earth asked his voice filled with sorrow, as he tried to comfort the small moon in his arms.

"Y-y-you'd do that for me!" His eyes sparkled in the sun's light looking up at the planet, his hands gripping onto hoodie.

"Of course! but now to find the perfect name…" Earth Earth said, his face became neutral as he lend back making the moon prop himself up on his arms, as Earth let his head fall back in deep thought, letting out a small hum as he mind wonder over all the name his Earthlings have called his little moons from the billions of years they've roamed his surface, but none stuck out as he mouthed each one, until he remembered the perfect choice, the Ancient Greek equivalent of Luna's own name, meaning Light, brightness and gleam and while the small moon doesn't shine in the Earthling sky like Luna dose, he eyes sure as hell do, almost bright then the stars around them.

 "I got it! The small moon's face lit up as Earth spoke hanging on every word that comes out of him mouth, "you shall be called Selene! A name only for the most worthy of Moon!" Earth boated dramatically his head up into the air, crossing one arm around his chest and another resting onto Selene's shoulder almost like he was crowning the moon with a highly esteemed title (and it was in Selene's mind at lest) only stoping his dramatic performance as a poorly muffled laugh filed the air from the small moon, a smile evident in his face, Selene looked away after meeting the planet’s gazes, slightly embarrassed by Earth seeing them laugh so openly, his core never felt so full…

Earth couldn’t help the small smile from reaching own face, he never knew just how much of himself was missing before he met Selene, any upset he felt at the two moons for hiding Selene for so long, were almost forgiven the moment he saw the small moon’s face light up with joy as he laughed at Earth’s performance, probably the first time in a very long time (Earth’s core ached at the thought but that was a issue for another Lunar Orbit) instead he kept quiet enjoying the moon’s presence before his impulse kicked in, leaning down to press a soft kiss onto Selene’s forehead making the moon freeze in place, as Earth wrapped his arms around the moon, pulling him close as Selene melted into his chest as the world wind of a day began to eat away at his remaining energy, slowly getting lolled to sleep as he felt Earth chest softly rise and fall, the planet running his fingers throw Selene’s hair, said moon let his eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

[velvetwyrme]

🗞️💥💥!!!

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

[hanzajesthanza]

it is absolutely so weird to me to try to imagine a version of geralt that is like, my age. like, no. get back to being an old man

[sforzesco]

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

[pro-sipper]

is it okay to be a shotacon(to fictional characters only) despite being around 12-15 yourself Σ(っ °Д °;)っ

i feel guilty to be thinking dirty thoughts about characters i like that are my age (12-15) (┬┬﹏┬┬)

i really cant control my own thoughts huhu .·´¯`(>▂<)´¯`·.

There's nothing wrong with having those feelings about people your own age. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with having those feelings towards fictional characters. It's normal to feel those things at that age, and there's not anything to feel guilty about.

Hope you make peace with it, nonny!

[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.