#i don't know what that building in the bottom right is but it has greek letters on it so 🤷‍♂️

[captorsicallfriends]

why pjo's portrayal of the greek gods is fucked up and how it's affected perceptions surrounding ancient Greece.

*breaks down the door to your inbox with an axe*

start talking now oh my god I want to hear your hot take so bad. I've been interested in religious studies (primarily the Hellenistic and early Roman religious atmosphere (of course acknowledging that the word religion is post-Enlightenment and conceives of supernatural belief as a subjective individual belief, which is inconsistent with how supernatural matters were dealt with in the Ancient world) and how they intersect with early Christianity and proto-Christianity) and I've been fascinated with the Greek gods and I need your hot take on why their portrayal is wrong and leads to incorrect assumptions about Ancient Greece.

oh you bet your bottom dollar i will talk about this. true to the post from which this originated, i will prep no material and all this is off the top of my head so don't quote me!

If you follow my Greek mythology sideblog, you'll know i am unequivocally a Zeus defender. Now I can make a million posts about Zeus alone but I will take a more holistic approach on the gods in general and the perception of Ancient Greece.

The West has been obsessed with Ancient Greece for centuries: the culture, philosophy, history, mythology, mathematical and scientific advancements, and much more. Now it's one thing to take interest in a country's history or a historical era; it is completely another to claim it as your own and make it an ideal state of life to achieve, because if you know literally anything about Ancient Greece, it was anything but. What I'm trying to say here is that Ancient Greek culture has been commodified, glorified, rewritten, and reclaimed by the West when it was never theirs to do so. I've often seen this sentiment expressed by Greeks about their homeland: "The history comes first, the people second." I think a prime modern example of this mindset was when same-sex marriage was legalised in Greece, which was a huge step forward for an Orthodox country with an extensive history of homophobia, but people outside of Greece began making jokes of Greece "returning to their own values" (referring to Ancient Greek practices of pederasty which is hugely problematic and not at all representative of any gay rights if you know what it entails) and people excited to "finally hold lesbian weddings in Lesbos" (signifying the West's perception of Greece as simply a tourist hotspot and not a country with an intricate history and culture). In short, Greece is already unfairly used for the West's agenda of glorification and attempts to build itself a culture that frankly isn't theirs at all.

Now, how does this involve pjo? A lot, my friends, a fucking lot. The publication and popularity of the Percy Jackson series has simply exacerbated all the aforementioned issues in this post. First off, the worldbuilding on which The Lightning Thief relied and the rest of the series ultimately holds is that "Olympus moves with the centre of Western power", which is just. Wow. There are a million things wrong with this concept that would need its own post, so I recommend this article called The Whitening Thief that essentially explains the white supremacy of it all. If you do not want to read the full article, the main premise is that the Percy Jackson series equates Westernism with civilisation and that without it there was "chaos and darkness", which as Paule describes it, is "sipping at a pretty racist cocktail".

note: I have realised how aggressively off-topic this is to the original statement I made, I'm getting there, I promise (although I did warn you it was something I could talk on for hours with little material)

Let's finally delve into the depiction of Greek gods in Percy Jackson. I'll actually start on a bit of a positive note that apart from the weird (for lack of a better term) comparisons of Hades to Adolf Hitler, the original Percy Jackson and the Olympians had some okay characterisation of the gods (I have some reservations about the goddesses on which I will elaborate later). They're prideful and neglectful parents (the myths actually contradict that latter part but I digress) but each with their own complexities and concerns. To use Zeus as an example because he's actually the god who falls short the most in terms of consistent characterisation in my opinion, he lets Percy live in TLT "for the sake of peace in [his] family", indicating a care and sense of duty for Olympus and for his fellow gods, and while he lets his pride and paranoia get the better of him at times, he is shown as a serious authority figure and someone who's trying to keep his realm together, and such characteristics wouldn't be too far off from his mythical counterpart.

But as the series progresses, either Rick got lazy or he attempted to further capitalise his work to make it more palpable, he turns the gods into caricatures by excessively inflating one characteristic they may have into their entire personalities. Returning to Zeus, his paranoia is amplified to an absurd extent that one can simply not fathom why the gods would be the better option than the Titans. As I said initially, he had bouts of paranoia that would be almost normal for someone with such a powerful position, but this is completely derailing any connection with his mythological counterpart, he may as well be an OC with the same name and title as him. To use other gods as an example because I promised a holistic approach and I have seemed to only talk about Zeus (sorry!), the writing of the goddesses Hera, Artemis, Aphrodite, and Athena is simply misogynistic. I'm sorry, there is no other way I can find myself to describe it. Typically feminine goddesses Hera and Aphrodite are extremely demonised and condemned for their flaky and vain attitude; Hera is the evil stepmother archetype and Aphrodite ultimately becomes weak and useless. The "virgin" (quotations referring to Athena) goddesses Artemis and Athena also don't seem to extend past superficial, unoriginal characteristics like being a vehement man-hater who kicked out two sapphics from the Hunt and a goddess who Rick stops at nothing to render her a horrible parent and person (using the Roman myth of Medusa, exaggerating her prideful nature, etc) respectively. And you cannot tell me they're not misogynistic portrayals because just a few minutes on pjo tiktok will show you just how many times Hera is referred to as a bitch (keep my wife's name out of your fucking mouth!!). Then there is TOA and COTG, which makes me want to cry just thinking about Zeus' portrayal there (yes we're going back there). The god who was consistently thought of as a gracious, protective saviour of the people in Ancient Greece (full list of epithets of Zeus, read at your leisure) is an abusive autocratic tyrant?

To go back onto the topic, how do Riordan's works affect the overall perception of Ancient Greece? Well, as I said before, it contributes to the white supremacist view of Ancient Greece as the epitome of civilisation and the glorification of the era, but it also turns Ancient Greece into a fandom to an extreme extent. Now, obviously, I'm not talking about people with a healthy obsession with Ancient Greek history and Mythology (myself included) who like to engage in content about it. I'm talking about people who claim Ancient Greece as an extension of Western, mostly American culture, and ultimately engage in a form of cultural appropriation that strips Greeks of their own history and narrative. This includes writing 'feminist' retellings of Greek myths, taking Riordan's (inaccurate) readings of the mythology as indisputable fact, and removing the myths from their historical and cultural context. People forget that much of these myths were stories written for entertainment and take them as a sort of Hellenic Bible (which delves into the Christianisation of Greek Mythology but that's a whole other post). In short, Westerners think they can do whatever the fuck they want with Greek mythology and Greek gods because they think it's theirs with which to play around, ultimately ignoring the country, history, and the culture from which they actually originate, and it's thanks to Rick Riordan that this attitude has blown up to an insane extent.

*sighs* Thank you for coming to my TedTalk and I seriously admire you if you made it this far.

#diya answers #i wrote all this instead of doing the pile of homework i have so yeah enjoy #sunset-telepath #rr crit

[thewitchfarhan]

Why are you reblogging from evilios? Do you know that they’re a zeus apologist, right? 💀💀💀

I'm going to preface this by saying this is going to be a *MONSTER* of a post, so be warned - it's gonna be long.

TLDR: “But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.”

Hi anon - thank you for your inquiry. This is actually something I have been pondering for a bit and I feel ready to express my feelings around this issue.

To start - I am *very* new to the Hellenic Pagan community. While I have been a practicing Witch and Pagan for about 10 years - Hellenic Paganism is not a practice I have worked with/within prior to 2023.

Additionally - I make a point to not pass judgment on a spiritual belief or path before researching it from a third-party point of view, and examining the historical documentation available (as opposed to just taking into account UPG).

With that being said - my feelings toward Zeus as a deity/spiritual entity are negative (as you can see below from a previous post I made).

A good portion of the myths about Zeus that I am familiar with have heavy themes that center around male entitlement, assault, r*pe, and misogyny. All of which are not only morally reprehensible - but also somewhat triggering for me as someone who grew up Catholic.

I have seen individuals say that you have to take into account the “historical context” in which myth and religious texts are written. I have seen individuals say things along the line of “These myths were written by misogynistic men so they projected their own values and beliefs onto Zeus, that’s now who Zeus really is!”

[I'm going to use the anon above as an example because their thoughts and sentiments are ones I see often from Zeus Devotees / Zeus Worshipers]

I’m not in the business of trying to tell others what to believe - not because I think all beliefs are valid - but because I know it’s pointless.

However, if you are going to use Greek Myths as the source material for your religious practice - then it would be more logical to compare these myths - not to Paradise Lost - but to the Bible.

So, if Greek Myths (the basis of Hellenic Paganism) are symbolic and not to be taken literally - then prey tell where are you getting your canonical information from? Which religious texts *are* to be taken literally?

The bottom line, and answer to this quandary, is this:

All religion is invented. All religion is made up. All religion was created by humanity.

Cows and Crows don’t have religion. They do not build altars or shrines. They do follow religious codes. They do not worship or name divinity.

We can trace a before and after period for every religion's existence. There is not one religion that has existed from the dawn of time (and if anyone claims such they’re lying because humanity evolved from other species who definitely did not have any concept of ‘religion’).

So, with that being said, if you aren’t part of an organized religion/coven/cult - then you have two options.

1. Interpret all holy and traditional texts as literal and abide by their ever moral, rule, and decision within your personal practice.

Or

2. Acknowledge that you are picking and choosing what you believe to fit your own moral and personal narrative. Admit that you are making up your own personal gnosis and acknowledge that any judgment of your personal practice is also a judgment of your person. Admit that if you aren’t taking source material literally (which is a totally fine thing to do) you are inventing your own religious gnosis.

Want to worship Zeus and ignore all myths that portray him as a r*pist? Go ahead! I have no issue with you. Just don't try to somehow make those myths "valid" or "just symbolic" - just admit what you're doing and move on.

Because if you’re going to go around saying “Oh this historical information is valid but the other one isn’t and shouldn’t be judged from a modern lens!” then congratulations! I’m going to view your practice through the same lens as those who praise the Christian God as an all-loving entity and ignore the fact that (according to the story of Noah’s Ark in the Bible) he murdered every single adult and child on planet Earth, aside from a chosen few.

At the end of the day - do what you want. I don’t have any authority to stop you and I’m not gonna fight with you. But if you want my personal opinion on Zeus worship it is this:

Zeus, for me, is categorically defined by his actions. While there are many stories of SA and Abuse in Greek Mythology, Zeus as King of the Gods takes the cake. Not only because of the sheer number of stories that center around him committing acts of SA - but also because as the King of the Gods, he should be held to a higher standard.

Since I am not part of an organized religion/coven/cult - I get to choose how I interact with spirituality, and for me, that includes judging it through a modern lens.

I chose to not ignore the myths that portray Zeus in a negative light because I think the sheer number of those myths defines Zeus' character and what he represented in ancient times.

But when it comes to the spiritual people I follow and reblog from on Tumblr - I have the following rule for myself:

If I like it, I interact with it, if I don’t - I won’t. If the blog isn’t upsetting to me or triggering me then I’ll follow, if it is - I won’t. If someone isn’t harming anyone by their spirituality then I’ll respect it, but if they are - fuck 'em.

Feel free to send any follow-up questions, I could talk about this shit for days.

#paganblr #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan #paganism #hellenic #hellenic paganism #helpol #zeus #zeus worship #hellenic polytheism #TW SA #TW Assault

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

god as much as I want the next book to be gwynriel and truly hope. you're right, I feel like we're still gonna have to suffer through e/lriel still.

my theory is that they're going to have a brief, lust driven affair (either in the novella or the actual book, hopefully not an ENTIRE book tho idk if I could stand it) before elain recognizes that az treats her like a prize instead of a person and kicks him to the curb for that bc we all know she dislikes to be babied and stifled at this point. they'd end up feeling guilty about all of this too considering the wrongness az describe in his bonus chapter about the whole situation. the bonus chapter signals to me that they're gonna do something stupid for Drama (which would tie in with his house smelling like flowers and bread in hosab ig, unless u have any theories about that part?) elain will realize lucien wants to see her grow and will actually HELP her grow and hopefully get her out of that court and off on the courtly adventures she deserves to go on.

Az can lick his wounds as his friendship with gwyn continues to grow and man I can't wait for their bond to snap into place so he can have his little 'oh' moment. I also truly hope that gwyn is just out there thriving and healing on her own time and doesn't know shit about these two idiots and doesn't get her feelings hurt with that necklace.

Ok so this might be controversial, but I don't think Gwyn has the necklace. I think Clotho still has it and will give it back to Azriel when he realizes what a collasal mistake he made. Hear me out: Clotho is the greek represenation of fate. She is the goddess who spins people's fates. I think that she knows that there is something between Azriel and Gwyn (like an untapped mating bond) and intervienes knowing what their fate is to each other. That is how I hope for it to go but I know SJM could also go with the necklace drama like ive seen it done in many fanfics.

I really hope that the farthest that Az and Elain get are stollen kisses. Honestly, Elain does not know him at all. They have known each other for two years and she doesn't know of any of his darkness and who he really is, just who he lets others see. If she knew how he thought about her, I know she would be revolted. I don't think she knows how he stopped her from trying to scry in ACOSF. She wants to do more and has a personality. He treats her like an object to be won, similar to how Tamlin viewed Feyre. Tamlin viewed Feyre as an asset and wanted to keep her safe despite the cost she would have to pay. Elain thrives and finds healing in the sunshine and open air. She loves to garden and feel the sun on her skin. Not only does she gravitate towards things that tie her to her mate, but also her true court. SJM left clues all along in ACOSF on how Elain does not fit into the Night Court.

I truly believe that the next book will start with Azriel being so hung up over elain, he builds a budding friendship with gwyn, and before he knows it he has fallen in love with Gwyn but it feels different because he is actually breaking free of what he thought was love (which was actually an unhealthy attachment to women who reminded him of his mother). This will leave elain at her rock bottom, because Azriel will choose gwyn over elain. Elain needs a catalyst for her book to start somewhere, and right now she has just been coasting without that thing to push her over the edge. I think that Beron will die at the end of the gwynriel book or emorie novella, making Eris high lord and Lucien will find out that he is Helion's son. I think that the elucien book will follow elain and lucien in the Day Court and they will be forced to interact in some way and it will allow Elain to finally see and be ready for something with Lucien, and in turn it will be a way for Lucien to deal with the whole situation.

#gwynriel #there are some hills I am willing to die on #elucien #anti e/riel

[beardedmrbean]

How often does the Guardian just make stuff up because I just read part of an article where the author - a self described Marxist media theorist- was called by a bunch of billionaires who are apparently building compounds in the desert to survive the apocalypse - which I can believe, but why they would call on some rando for advice is beyond me.

>How often does the Guardian just make stuff

they don't actually make stuff up, but they do do a good job of trying to make theory and conjecture sound like fact.

If they're going to lie they'll call it an opinion to avoid a libel lawsuit.

Shot in the dark here, and would you look at that. Opinion

Look, I get their hesitancy. Pay taxes? To this government? The same government that decided to nation-destroy and nation-build and nation-destroy Afghanistan for almost 20 years instead of feeding and educating American children? The same government that subsidizes factory farming, despite its deleterious effects on our environment and our health and the wellbeing of animals? The same government who heard the pain and outrage about the misuse of power by police across America and answered, “How about more police, is that what you want, even more police?”

She ever loses her gig at the Guardian she'll be able to move over to HuffPo, Vice, Vox, or Salon easy enough.

What would make society better? Is it skyscrapers in the desert? Or would it actually benefit the world more if billionaires had less influence over the way society operates?

Telosa’s name, as has been mentioned often in its promotional materials, comes from Aristotle’s use of the word “telos” to mean “highest purpose”. Perhaps a better name could have been derived from Hybris, the Greek goddess of insolence and reckless pride. But it’s best not to wait for some divine act to mete out judgment for our little Icarus here. We the people are in a much better position to bring about his fall. Send in the taxman.

Speech writer for aoc would work too, both attempt to sound smarter than they actually are.

Bet she felt cool and academic quoting Aristotle, old white men aren't so bad after all I guess. (yes Greek I know, but these people are idiots)

But it also does seem like this plan is also in the works.

Disney one is irrelevant to the matter at hand, I just wanted to have that one on the bottom included in the screenshot.

The blurb there not like i don't already know the commies don't consider the hyper wealthy but that whole thing with the collar shows a new level of lack of self awareness.

Section in Max Brooks's book "World War Z" that kind of parallels this

Looking it up to make sure I get it right, I need to read this one again.

Iran and Pakistan destroy each other in a brief nuclear exchange over a refugee crisis. When the US military stages a high-profile battle in Yonkers, New York, their conventional warfare tactics prove insufficient against the overwhelming horde of zombies, and the military is routed on live television. The catastrophe causes President George W. Bush to suffer a nervous breakdown, resulting in Vice President Colin Powell and his cabinet invoking Section 4 of the 25th Amendment and forcibly removing him from office, with Powell succeeding him to become the 44th President of the United States and nominating Howard Dean as Vice President.

Not finding what I was looking for so I'll go from memory.

Some rap or hip hop mogul, we'll say Dre or Jay-Z has a compound of some sort in upstate NY all walled in and secure, got their guards and everything and basically they're safe with plenty of resources inside and then some.

But these types of people (celebrities) being what they are (egotistical) there's also a livestream of all the people in the compound having a good time with cookouts and Champaign and all the hoes you could ever want.

Let's just say that when the zombie horde happens, it's not only the zombies you need to worry about, got a big ass compound full of food, booze, and hoes and you're bragging about it on the airwaves eventually the folks that are scared and hungry are going to come knocking.

And there's gonna be more than you can stop with guns.

I really need to read that one again, audiobook was good too. Alan Alda had a section he read.

_____________________

This was probably way more involved than you wanted, so sorry about that, adhd has been causing me to just do this a lot more lately than it used to.

Hope it was interesting to read at least.

#anonymous

[wrenwrights]

'Monsters' Debreifing.

I've been working on my fic 'Monsters' for the better part of a month now and god, I love it. I love this story so much that I want to never stop writing it. Even on days when I have writer's-block and looking at my laptop makes me anxious I still think about this story. It's like a constant fester, just growing and building in my head until I can't think about anything else.

Seriously, I tried making myself a nice cup of tea the other day and poured the boiling water on the countertop, not into my mug. That was a fun mess to clean up; Grandma was thoroughly concerned.

Oh! And my main character, I love her to pieces. I've always loved spy novels and mysteries (Nacy Drew was my favorite detective when I was a little girl), and Iris Hall refects that, I feel like.

When making a character, main, or background, I always build off of a little part of myself; take a little piece of my heart and mold it like clay into a person. To be a writer is to be a god, and though Iris isn't my best character, she's my favorite creation so far.

She's this little woman who has been dragged through hell and back in life, not only in her job. She grew up isolated and abused and then was recruited into an organization that betrayed her and turned her into this sexualized and dangerous thing. Iris hardly sees herself as a person anymore. She's become a tool for The Company, nothing more.

I just love her and Konig's relationship. Iris, who is always on defense and trusts the people closest to her about as much as if they were live cobras- loves this humongous, quiet, and gentle (when he's not in big bad Colonel Konig mode) man, but she's so scared. Iris has spent a lifetime seducing and socializing for the sake of her Company that she doesn't know what real love is supposed to be. Iris believes she's merely a monster, a wild and dangerous thing that should never be released into the human realm. And poor Konig, he knows she's a spy; he can practically smell the secrets and lies under her vanilla perfume- but damnit, Iris is the kindest and most honest person Konig has ever met. She's gentle and warm, and every time he looks at her his heart does this funny thing where it jumps in his chest. He's been in love since the first time he saw her.

Anyway, I don't want to spoil too much. Here's a little excerpt I was working on later last night, and I just can't stop writing this scene.

***

Chapter 1

Working with others wasn’t Iris’s style. She was a solo act, a spy trained to draw out secrets by confession or theft- working with a team tended to get in the way of that. Laswell agreed, until now. Now, she was strapped to Philip Graves side whether she liked it or not. The smug smirk plastered across his thin mouth told Iris exactly that. She needed him for this mission, needed him for cover, needed him to guard her. Without him, the mission couldn’t be completed. A fact that, though true, Iris firmly disagreed. Despite the years of military experience under Commander Graves belt, it was all nothing compared to espionage work. Espionage was a different kind of war, one that Graves had no business playing in.

“You don’t like me?” his voice, American in accent and heavy, had irritation sinking onto Iris’s shoulders. She grasped onto his arm a little tighter, the rough material of his full-dress uniform pinching between her long nails. The atmosphere in the elevator was growing tense, suffocating, leaving Iris’s palms moist and her head spinning. There, right in the bottom of her stomach, was a need to just get out of that damn elevator.

“I don’t dislike you,” Iris replied, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“But you don’t like me,” Graves said, looking down at Iris. The man was tall, about six-foot even and athletic in build. He was handsome in the classical sense, like a Greek Kouros; with short, light brown hair and a square face framed in neatly trimmed stubble.

“Didn’t know you were so keen, Commander,” Iris teased, meeting Graves eyes. He had warm eyes that didn’t match his face; yet they matched Graves’s cocky and arrogant nature perfectly. His eyes broke away from Iris’s gaze, tracking down her face to follow the plush curve of her mouth. This was an opening, years of CIA foreign intelligence training and several more of State School training had worked Iris’s instincts, her intuition, into a fine-tuned instrument. Iris could hear her old teacher now, “You are a Doll,” she’d purr in her French-American accent, “With a mere whisper, you could have that man on his knees. Go on! Bring him to his knees.”

#fanfic #reblog #call of duty #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #wrenwrights #espionage #spy #konig x oc #philip graves #kate laswell #sexpionage

[andromedaexists]

Drag Me Up || R.M. Virtues

★★☆☆☆

TW: EXPLICIT SEX, ROUGH SEX, ON PAGE VIOLENCE, PHYSICAL VIOLENCE, ATTEMPTED MURDER, ON PAGE DEATH (??), GUN VIOLENCE, EXPLOSION, GUNS, STALKING, HARASSMENT

Okay so lots of feelings here. First off, I was really excited to get into this series. I am a HUGE Greek mythology fan (not that anyone would be able to tell that lol). Not only that, but I am a huge Dark Fantasy fan and I'm coming into darker romance as well.

Another thing I'm a big fan of? POC and trans characters! There are so many here, this is a more or less queer-normative world with trans and black characters left and right! I love that so much and it's a huge part of the reason I picked up this series (because yes, this is a series. This is book one of four so far).

There are a lot of things to love about this book! I was a little put off at first about whether these explicitly trans characters were actually trans or not, but that was quickly assuaged when it was mentioned in text that there's just really good gender surgeons there! These trans characters are all "fully" transitioned (according to them. They all have had bottom surgery and seem to be indistinguishable from their cis counterparts, though I don't like saying "fully transitioned" because that opens a can of worms on what that means, and I don't like the idea that I would not be considered fully transitioned because I don't meet the requirements for it though I am comfortable with my transition and consider myself to be set. ANYWAYS)

However, there are some things that just did not sit right with me about this book. A lot of my qualms require spoilers, so I am going to add a SPOILER WARNING here

I think the easiest thing to point to is the formatting. I'm sure this is just a technical error or stylistic choice, but there are two instances in this book where it seems like paragraphs are accidentally split in the middle. like:

He knew what she meant without having to ask. She already had her formal union with Dio and Hermes, and she and Poseidon were respectful neighbors.

Like, that just threw me for a loop. I don't think I would have noticed really if I wasn't already on edge from the amount of hyphens just thrown into every sentence. I don't even think they are being used as em dashes, it's just like forcibly installed hesitation and emphasis in the speech of the book and it doesn't work well for me.

That's all technical stuff, though it did lead me to dislike the book a bit. It really jarred me, took me out of the narrative. What else took me out of the narrative was the fact that this book reads like a high fantasy. There is just so much knowledge thrown at you at the beginning and I could not handle it. It took me two weeks to get through chapter one.

Another major complaint that I had, along similar narrative lines, was the amount of therapy talk in this book. Listen, I get that every story has it's purpose and I will always advocate for a book that serves the purpose of being healing for a trans person but like, that's not what I expected or wanted from this book. I went into this book knowing that it was basically POC trans greek mythology erotica. That's what I expected and wanted and on top of that I was also given moral lessons on grief and holding yourself above the needs of others.

Needless to say, it really brought down the mood.

What brought down the mood even more, though, was the mood itself. Like, this book is erotica. It is full of sex that just so happens to also have a good plot. I love that! Until the end.

Within the last 5 chapters, the entire plot happens. Like, there is a build up between the sex and therapy sessions throughout the book, but it all happens in the last 5 chapters.

Dionysus is shot (BTW, this was my fav part of the book. Like, this was heartbreaking and just *chef's kiss*), this makes Hades go completely against his entire characterization (qualm) and act impulsively to remove Zeus from power. It's good that it turns out well, but I had fully expected this interaction to happen in the second book because it's been like The Major Plot Point and 40 pages surely wasn't enough to have that scene when the 300 pages before it were so painstakingly slow paces, right? Wrong. Not only does the shot happen, but Hades changes his mind, removes Zeus from power, goes back to the hospital to see Dionysus again, and goes back to his apartment to have sex with Persephone (qualm) AND THEN the epilogue happens. All in 40 pages.

And let's talk about those qualms right there. Why, after we just heard about how Dionysus being shot was the worst thing that could have happened to Hades, about how Hades was repressing his grief and thoughts about the whole situation without grieving, about how everything that could go wrong did go wrong (except it didn't because there wasn't enough time to have anything go wrong), after an entire book about not burying feelings and all kinds of therapy talk, did Hades just walk into his apartment and almost immediately start eating Persephone out? It felt wrong and very poorly timed.

And why did we only get characterization in the last 40 pages? After nearly 400 pages of these characters, why did Hades completely go against what we would have known him to do? Why did we only just learn that Athena is Dio's best friend when we've known Dio since page 1? Why is she such a mess over Dio being shot when the only time we've seen them in the same room is the scene before he is shot and they didn't even interact with each other? Why are we only getting these bits of characterization at the end??? It just confused me.

Anyways, I don't wanna go on forever about why I didn't really like this book. I have high hopes moving forward but we'll have to see where I end up with them.

Here are some lines that I loved:

"Just come home to me."

You deserve better. We all do.

Yeah okay looking back through my highlights I actually didn't have much that stood out to me because it was all so... therapy-esque. Even the BDSM scenes (which I love that it's not just erotica it's BDSM erotica) have an underlying moral vibe to them idk

I'm starting the next book literally right now so we'll see how this goes! It's based around Aphrodite and Hephaestus, so I'm not sure how much I will love it but I'm going to keep an open mind!

I am planning on writing little things like this every time I read a book just to help me keep track of them. If I don’t write down my opinions and thoughts right away I am liable to forget them. I am hesitant to call these a review because i’m really just not comfy with that lol I will do my best to make sure I appropriately tag and warn about topics. If I miss any please let me know!

#andi reads #book reviews #booklr #bookblr #lgbt books #queer books #queer book directory #drag me up #rm virtues

[geminusrufus]

Scraping Greek Inscriptions

0: Wait, What?

"What's this about scraping? I thought we were programming?"

Shhhhhhhhhhh it's okay. Read this first:

(Shameless plug)

SO you have found yourself in the enviable position of having scraped some raw HTML and wanting to retrieve an Ancient Greek inscription contained within it. Don't worry: I've got your back!

1: Principle Components of an Inscription

Each inscription on the Packard Humanities Institute (PHI) website has 5 principle components:

The PH# (PH Number; every inscription on the website is labeled)

The source book for the inscription

The inscription's number in the book (every inscription in a book is labeled sequentially)

The inscription's header (provenance, date of carving, etc)

The inscription's text

So... how do we get those?

Well, fortunately for us, PHI standardized the format of their pages! That means every component is accessed with the same CSS Path –

wait

should we go into that?

2: The CSS Path

I'm going to keep this part short.

There are three languages used to create webpages. HTML is your content -- it says what you have and how you would like it formatted. JavaScript is how you make buttons and trim 10 years off your life expectancy. Finally, CSS is how you format things.

Essentially, when you write something in HTML, you have to tag it. Some tags are standard, like italicizing. Just slap an italics tag on what you're typing and blam it's all slanted. However, you aren't limited to HTML tags. You can make your own, or override the standards, or any other nonsense with CSS.

Say you want to have a certain type of paragraph which has a dark border and a translucent background. You can define that behavior in CSS! Or maybe you need to switch fonts regularly: make a tag for the new font and give it a corresponding line in your .CSS file!

Now, the computer needs a way of connecting the two. To do so, it creates what is essentially a tree diagram. Every item is on that tree diagram, where they are called nodes. To find a node, you need to describe the steps you take through the tree. There are multiple ways to do that, but we're using the CSS Path. Bear in mind, the methods for generating this tree and the paths on it is standardized!

3: Identifying Inscription Components

Ok, that's in our pocket. Let's get our components.

We already know the PH# -- it's down in the bottom right corner, and it's what we used in the last post to find this inscription.

(You read that, right?)

So now let's find the CSS Path to our source book. We see it up at the top left: IG I³. So what you want to do is this: open up your browser's web development tools, then open up the web inspector. Then choose the selector too, and click on the book's number. Don't get the number after it: that's the inscription number.

After clicking on the link, look over at the web inspector. If the highlighted line begins with <a class="booklink", then you're on the right item. Right click on that line in the inspector, and go down to "copy" in the drop-down list. From there, click "CSS Path." Voilà! You have the path to the book number!

Since building CSS Paths is a standardized process, we can hand this to R and it will know exactly what to do with it.

However, if you paste that path anywhere, you'll notice it's a bit long

html body div div#textpage.mainpage.fontadj div.hdr2 span.fullref a.booklink

Simply put, we don't need that. When we copy the path, it will give us the full path, but that's really not super necessary. For example, the "html" at the beginning just says "start at the html doc." That "body"? "go to the body of the doc" (i.e. none of the functional code at the top or bottom).

All we really need to write down is when things start to get unique. For now, that everything after "span" and before "booklink."

span.fullref a

That's much better. Let's use that. While we're at it, here are the CSS paths for all of our components (except for the PH#):

Source Book: span.fullref a

Inscription Number: span.fullref > span

Inscription Header: div.tildeinfo.light

Inscription Text: div.greek.text-nowrap.dblclk

4: Retrieving Inscription Components

So, let's go and retrieve these components.

First we need the HTML. In the last post, we saved it as the variable PH1. Then, we use the function html_elements() from the library rvest (the same library we used to scrape this page).

PH1 %>% rvest::html_elements()

(Remember that %>% is a pipe from the library dplyr. It takes an object or a function's output and passes it along to another function.)

Now, we need to give the function a CSS Path.

PH1 %>% rvest::html_elements('span.fullref a')

This retrieves an HTML object. If we did our job right, this will be the same element from which we copied our CSS path! Let's check:

Nice!

Now we need to extract our text from that node. To do that, we use rvest::html_text() which extracts text from their HTML tags.

PH1 %>% rvest::html_elements('span.fullref a') %>% rvest::html_text()

And there we have it! All that's left is to make it into a function so that we can use it to extract the book from any scraped page. The function will be called ReadBook(), and it will take a page as an input. The function grabs the book and returns it as the insc_book.

Remember from the last post that page is the placeholder name we've been using for our HTML elements.

Now, while we're at it, let's do the same thing for our other components.

ReadNumber() takes a page and returns the insc_number:

ReadHeader() takes a page and returns the insc_header:

Then, finally, ReadText() takes a page and returns the insc_text:

Let's test them out!

Jumping Jehoshaphat, we did it!

...

but why does it look like that??????????

Well, stick around for another post and I'll show you!

#Ancient Greek #R #Dialectology #Quantitative Linguistics #Programming #Historical Linguistics #Web Scraping #I'm so sick #You know the type of sick where thoughts feel like thick soup? #That's the type of sick #Don't @ me if this is a confusing mess #Thoughts are thick now

[xansmenagerie]

The Naming of Names

Another Mel fic: while nicknames aren't required for MotW Crooked characters, it just felt right that she would have one. Plus Fidget and Oyster came into my head via nicknames first...

It all starts when she's a mere four years old. According to family legend, it took only half an hour for her to rebelliously tell the teacher to call her Mel after hearing her name mangled repeatedly; what's more surprising is that she starts insisting on it at home as well, until after a while only her grandparents call her Melpomene (unless her mother is very annoyed).

It drives Thalia with her less malleable name quietly insane, especially when Achilles follows suit with 'Ace'. This is a bonus, as far as Mel's concerned.

It is perhaps a little telling that she always phrases it as, "Call me Mel," though; Melpomene is still there under the skin, watching the world through Mel's eyes.

Flash forward many years to a somewhat less dingy than it used to be flat in south London - not even Seth can make a mess faster than Mel can tidy it away, especially with Mason helping. Or, as she now has to remember to call them, Fidget and Oyster; since the Incident where a Mel who was only supposed to be "ferrying the boys back after a night out" ended up having to pick an otherwise unreachable lock to release two of said boys from the building they were trapped in before the security guard came round, she's been firmly brought into the gang, and that means getting to know and use their nicknames.

It wasn't much of a surprise to Mel to find out that the main purveyor of said nicknames was indeed Fidget, with a mind as restless as his fingers and a constant drive towards mischief. She's quite fond of him, in an entirely platonic way, but is dreading what nonsense he's going to come up with for her. Lanky Dave has already ejected Fidget from her room once while she was out chauffeuring Crystal to an event - which was sweet of him, but Mel is beginning to suspect she might have to gently break his heart at some point - and honestly if Fidget's been caught in there once rooting around for ideas he's almost certainly been in there several more times.

It would be worrying if she didn't understand Fidget so well; as it is, she knows he's camper than a row of pink tents and is driven purely by the itch of trying to work out her nickname. It's mostly harmless, and if he gets too annoying then the threat of telling Oyster certain ouzo-loosened truths around Feelings will probably get him to back off for a while.

The door to Mel's room bursts open. Mel, sitting on the sofa out in the common area, fixes Fidget with a very stern glare as he bounces over all puppy-dog eager. Before she can say anything he exclaims a joyfully amused, "I've got it!"

"Don't give it to me then," Mel replies in time-honoured tradition - Fidget might not be one of her blood siblings but she'll be damned not to think of him as a brother by now, terrible feed lines included.

He's too busy being smug to retaliate. "So, you need to find a more secure place for your passport-"

"It was in a lock box in the bottom of my underwear drawer, how secure does it need to-"

"Anyway," Fidget cuts across her indignation, "I've been doing a bit of research down at the library since you told me there was no way on earth you'd answer to 'Greek', and when I saw your full name it clicked."

Mel rolls her eyes. "Go on, what are you trying to lump me with now?"

With an air of triumphant finality, Fidget says, "Muse."

It stings in a way Mel doesn't expect - her gran sometimes calls her that too and the reminder of her old life is jarring - but she has to admit that on a scale of terrible nicknames it does work for her. She still waits a moment to see Fidget squirm before giving him a slow nod. "Fine, but don't you dare explain it to the others, alright?"

"Alright, Melpomene, aka Muse," he says cheekily, and her traitor heart sings a little to hear her name pronounced properly by someone she cares about, "I promise not to make your life a tragedy by telling anyone your secrets, at least this one."

Fidget gives her a brief, fierce hug, then heads to the kitchen for the inevitable celebratory coffee. Muse settles back into the sofa cushions with her book, rolling her new name around in her head until it settles. She thinks she likes it.

(She does smack Fidget when he puts that damn Steps song on for the seventh time in two days, mind. There are limits.)

#mel is nominally the sensible one #motw #short fic #writblr #writeblr

[hawthorne-house]

Hello. Are you accepting question based readings? If so I have a question regarding how my Greek deity Crius feels about me? What energies are between us? Thank you in advance I’ll leave feedback! -Ruby

Hello Miss Ruby (no offense meant if this isn't your preferred pronoun just what came out in the moment). Welcome to Hawthorne House! I'm not sure I've done many of these sorts of deity readings so it'll be an interesting dive I think. (p.s. Ruby is one of my favorite names.)

First off, you have the King of Swords (left), The Hierophant (center0, and Strength (right). You wouldn't know this but when I put cards back into my deck after a reading I slot them all in randomly and then I reshuffled thoroughly before doing a reading. So to consistently be getting the same cards in these readings, the energies of those coming here (you included) almost feel intertwined somehow. Like we are all coming to the same wavelength. I don't know why I felt the need to say that before even getting to the cards themselves but it felt important to your reading in particular. That could be a message for you about "being on the same wavelength" with Crius. To literally pull the card of the spiritual with the Hierophant is really something. I feel like you are being offered truth and protection in exchange for something. Both the King of Swords and the Strength card represent strength. The King also speaks of leadership where the Strength card speaks of confidence. There is a natural order to this energy, a give and take. It has good flow. I feel like it is one that will provide you with the confidence you need to step into some sort of leadership position. You also have the five of pentacles at the bottom of the deck in reverse. It feels like coming in from the cold, recovering from feelings of abandonment or lack. This could be literal too, I don't know why I'm hearing that but maybe recently you were in some sort of financially difficult situation (understandable with all going on) and something about this connection has brought or will be bringing you out of that. It feels like he's a guiding light in the darkness, or is shining a light for you to see by? I'm going to be honest I actually know nothing about Crius myself so I do hope this all fits for his energy.

Haha the Lenormand message is so literal. It was a long journey through harsh waters. Filled with endings and transformation. From the gray skies of anxiety and depression straight into the light of joy, fulfillment, and pure happiness. The sun is the card of both victory/glory, and spirit. I feel like he embodies that sun like spirit, something about charisma and illumination. It is a feeling that he has or will help you overcome a period of mourning. In fact I wouldn't even say "or" here. Whether he already has helped you overcome that period or not, there will be times in the future where he will do so again if this connection is nurtured and stays strong. If nothing else, nurturing this connection with these energies will help you to build your confidence. With the ship and the sun I definitely feel like this connection is leading you somewhere. I'm hearing "I protect my own." Which feels like he is calling you one of his people, someone he looks over or guides for sure. Or at least the olive branch is being offered there to form this connection if it hasn't been created already. If you were wondering if you should form one, I would say yes (my advice as a reader to be used at your own discretion). That is all I have for you for now but I do hope that you found this interesting, helpful, or affirming in some way. Thank you for your visit! Yours, Aria

#witchblr #divination #aria speaks #tarot community #tarot reading #hawthorne house after hours #channeling #oracle #oracle reading #divination community #free reading #free tarot

[perpetual-stories]

Story Structures for your Next WIP

hello, hello. this post will be mostly for my notes. this is something I need in to be reminded of for my business, but it can also be very useful and beneficial for you guys as well.

everything in life has structure and storytelling is no different, so let’s dive right in :)

First off let’s just review what a story structure is :

a story is the backbone of the story, the skeleton if you will. It hold the entire story together.

the structure in which you choose your story will effectively determine how you create drama and depending on the structure you choose it should help you align your story and sequence it with the conflict, climax, and resolution.

1. Freytag's Pyramid

this first story structure i will be talking about was named after 19th century German novelist and playwright.

it is a five point structure that is based off classical Greek tragedies such as Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripedes.

Freytag's Pyramid structure consists of:

Introduction: the status quo has been established and an inciting incident occurs.

Rise or rising action: the protagonist will search and try to achieve their goal, heightening the stakes,

Climax: the protagonist can no longer go back, the point of no return if you will.

Return or fall: after the climax of the story, tension builds and the story inevitably heads towards...

Catastrophe: the main character has reached their lowest point and their greatest fears have come into fruition.

this structure is used less and less nowadays in modern storytelling mainly due to readers lack of appetite for tragic narratives.

2. The Hero's Journey

the hero's journey is a very well known and popular form of storytelling.

it is very popular in modern stories such as Star Wars, and movies in the MCU.

although the hero's journey was inspired by Joseph Campbell's concept, a Disney executive Christopher Vogler has created a simplified version:

The Ordinary World: The hero's everyday routine and life is established.

The Call of Adventure: the inciting incident.

Refusal of the Call: the hero / protagonist is hesitant or reluctant to take on the challenges.

Meeting the Mentor: the hero meets someone who will help them and prepare them for the dangers ahead.

Crossing the First Threshold: first steps out of the comfort zone are taken.

Tests, Allie, Enemies: new challenges occur, and maybe new friends or enemies.

Approach to the Inmost Cave: hero approaches goal.

The Ordeal: the hero faces their biggest challenge.

Reward (Seizing the Sword): the hero manages to get ahold of what they were after.

The Road Back: they realize that their goal was not the final hurdle, but may have actually caused a bigger problem than before.

Resurrection: a final challenge, testing them on everything they've learned.

Return with the Elixir: after succeeding they return to their old life.

the hero's journey can be applied to any genre of fiction.

3. Three Act Structure:

this structure splits the story into the 'beginning, middle and end' but with in-depth components for each act.

Act 1: Setup:

exposition: the status quo or the ordinary life is established.

inciting incident: an event sets the whole story into motion.

plot point one: the main character decided to take on the challenge head on and she crosses the threshold and the story is now progressing forward.

Act 2: Confrontation:

rising action: the stakes are clearer and the hero has started to become familiar with the new world and begins to encounter enemies, allies and tests.

midpoint: an event that derails the protagonists mission.

plot point two: the hero is tested and fails, and begins to doubt themselves.

Act 3: Resolution:

pre-climax: the hero must chose between acting or failing.

climax: they fights against the antagonist or danger one last time, but will they succeed?

Denouement: loose ends are tied up and the reader discovers the consequences of the climax, and return to ordinary life.

4. Dan Harmon's Story Circle

it surprised me to know the creator of Rick and Morty had their own variation of Campbell's hero's journey.

the benefit of Harmon's approach is that is focuses on the main character's arc.

it makes sense that he has such a successful structure, after all the show has multiple seasons, five or six seasons? i don't know not a fan of the show.

the character is in their comfort zone: also known as the status quo or ordinary life.

they want something: this is a longing and it can be brought forth by an inciting incident.

the character enters and unfamiliar situation: they must take action and do something new to pursue what they want.

adapt to it: of course there are challenges, there is struggle and begin to succeed.

they get what they want: often a false victory.

a heavy price is paid: a realization of what they wanted isn't what they needed.

back to the good old ways: they return to their familiar situation yet with a new truth.

having changed: was it for the better or worse?

i might actually make a operate post going more in depth about dan harmon's story circle.

5. Fichtean Curve:

the fichtean curve places the main character in a series of obstacles in order to achieve their goal.

this structure encourages writers to write a story packed with tension and mini-crises to keep the reader engaged.

The Rising Action

the story must start with an inciting indecent.

then a series of crisis arise.

there are often four crises.

2. The Climax:

3. Falling Action

this type of story telling structure goes very well with flash-back structured story as well as in theatre.

6. Save the Cat Beat Sheet:

this is another variation of a three act structure created by screenwriter Blake Snyder, and is praised widely by champion storytellers.

Structure for Save the Cat is as follows: (the numbers in the brackets are for the number of pages required, assuming you're writing a 110 page screenplay)

Opening Image [1]: The first shot of the film. If you’re starting a novel, this would be an opening paragraph or scene that sucks readers into the world of your story.

Set-up [1-10]. Establishing the ‘ordinary world’ of your protagonist. What does he want? What is he missing out on?

Theme Stated [5]. During the setup, hint at what your story is really about — the truth that your protagonist will discover by the end.

Catalyst [12]. The inciting incident!

Debate [12-25]. The hero refuses the call to adventure. He tries to avoid the conflict before they are forced into action.

Break into Two [25]. The protagonist makes an active choice and the journey begins in earnest.

B Story [30]. A subplot kicks in. Often romantic in nature, the protagonist’s subplot should serve to highlight the theme.

The Promise of the Premise [30-55]. Often called the ‘fun and games’ stage, this is usually a highly entertaining section where the writer delivers the goods. If you promised an exciting detective story, we’d see the detective in action. If you promised a goofy story of people falling in love, let’s go on some charmingly awkward dates.

Midpoint [55]. A plot twist occurs that ups the stakes and makes the hero’s goal harder to achieve — or makes them focus on a new, more important goal.

Bad Guys Close In [55-75]. The tension ratchets up. The hero’s obstacles become greater, his plan falls apart, and he is on the back foot.

All is Lost [75]. The hero hits rock bottom. He loses everything he’s gained so far, and things are looking bleak. The hero is overpowered by the villain; a mentor dies; our lovebirds have an argument and break up.

Dark Night of the Soul [75-85-ish]. Having just lost everything, the hero shambles around the city in a minor-key musical montage before discovering some “new information” that reveals exactly what he needs to do if he wants to take another crack at success. (This new information is often delivered through the B-Story)

Break into Three [85]. Armed with this new information, our protagonist decides to try once more!

Finale [85-110]. The hero confronts the antagonist or whatever the source of the primary conflict is. The truth that eluded him at the start of the story (established in step three and accentuated by the B Story) is now clear, allowing him to resolve their story.

Final Image [110]. A final moment or scene that crystallizes how the character has changed. It’s a reflection, in some way, of the opening image.

(all information regarding the save the cat beat sheet was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

7. Seven Point Story Structure:

this structure encourages writers to start with the at the end, with the resolution, and work their way back to the starting point.

this structure is about dramatic changes from beginning to end

The Hook. Draw readers in by explaining the protagonist’s current situation. Their state of being at the beginning of the novel should be in direct contrast to what it will be at the end of the novel.

Plot Point 1. Whether it’s a person, an idea, an inciting incident, or something else — there should be a "Call to Adventure" of sorts that sets the narrative and character development in motion.

Pinch Point 1. Things can’t be all sunshine and roses for your protagonist. Something should go wrong here that applies pressure to the main character, forcing them to step up and solve the problem.

Midpoint. A “Turning Point” wherein the main character changes from a passive force to an active force in the story. Whatever the narrative’s main conflict is, the protagonist decides to start meeting it head-on.

Pinch Point 2. The second pinch point involves another blow to the protagonist — things go even more awry than they did during the first pinch point. This might involve the passing of a mentor, the failure of a plan, the reveal of a traitor, etc.

Plot Point 2. After the calamity of Pinch Point 2, the protagonist learns that they’ve actually had the key to solving the conflict the whole time.

Resolution. The story’s primary conflict is resolved — and the character goes through the final bit of development necessary to transform them from who they were at the start of the novel.

(all information regarding the seven point story structure was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

i decided to fit all of them in one post instead of making it a two part post.

i hope you all enjoy this post and feel free to comment or reblog which structure you use the most, or if you have your own you prefer to use! please share with me!

if you find this useful feel free to reblog on instagram and tag me at perpetualstories

Follow my tumblr and instagram for more writing and grammar tips and more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writersconnection #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writings

[muffindaddystyles]

Hershey Fucker.

Author's Note; here lies the great memory of long hair Harry. Long gone but never forgotten. A smut to make you clench your legs together, *laughs in evil*. Don't forget to gimme some love :(

Kaleidoscopic lights flares around you as you stirred the straw of your margarita dodging the glunk of strawberry. Your eyes anchored at the spindiling lean figure of the emerald eyed monster, jaw tight that of greek god, umber spiral of curls kissing the sharply cuts of his face and it glows as if he has used your highlighter.

You scoff when he puckers his lips around the rim of whiskey giving a fist bump in praise.

It's been going on from the time you stepped inside the club. He's being a pain in arse. Having none of shame giving a harsh squeeze to your butt while leading you, leaning close to whisper words straight outta dirty erotica, throwing you his signature cocky smirks and brush of noses while he adjusted his daddy long legs nudging them in between your knees as you both sat on the high-stools of the bar.

You shake your head in exasperation smiling to yourself when he caught the wrist of bartender pointing at it with slurred eyes and bubbly lips, "nice tat, lad. looks sexy on ya." You know he's trying to make you jealous on purpose and it's quite endearing to see him try.

It makes your pussy weep, in all honesty. The fact that he's flirtatious in nature and when he speaks it feels like roses are falling from his lips would never fail to make you find him more ethereal. He owns that kinky charisma.

He kept on side glancing you while doing his antiques. Chatting with the bartender and complementing him with a lopsided grin, taking your hand for agreement because he's that annoying.

You practically lunges over him straddling his knee to brush your crimson coated lips agaisnt his earlobe while you whisper.

"Wanna go home." He furrows his brows together clearing his throat and gesturing you with his sparkling daunting gaze ','s that so?' when you sit back leaving a satisfied red smudgnes at his earlobe and higher jaw. You bob your head patting his knees and before your hands could sneak any higher he grabbed them, chugging the last of his whiskey and ruffling his wild tresses back to stand both of you on feet.

"Hmm. Was 'avin', fun weren't ye'?" He asks looping his forearms around your front protectively and keeping you close to him while making an exit from the crowd.

"Ehm. dunno, hot bartender." He scrunches his nose at this pinching your hip-bone rasping out in his thick chapel's accent.

"Thought ye'r same thought, babe." You cackle at this loudly gasping audibly when the cold zephyr of London enveloped you. He immediately kisses your head stroking his thumb against the nape of your neck.

"'Ere lemme be ye'r personal heater." He cacoons the warm coat he's wearing around your body pulling you to his chest, his exposed pecks coming in contact with your own bare shoulders making both of you hiss. "Better hurry up, wan' to get wrapped 'round your warmth." You laugh at his chaotic humour hitting him with elbow.

On reaching the car that's parked at the very end of parking lot you spin in his hold gazing deep into his jade and he sucks his bottom lip inside his mouth when you grab his face, squishing his blushed chill cheeks in process.

You part your lips infront of him glazing your wet tongue all over your plump lips to give him a little show before pulling him closer to smear them against his stiff ones, you kiss him sloppily letting your saliva drool around the corners of his lips lapping onto his tongue messily.

"Mhmp. Ye' know your sloppiness turn meh on s' bad." He grunts with fog huffing out sliding his large palm under your thigh to grope your ass and haul your leg around his waist as you lean over the bonnet of car. He glides his thumb from your decolletage to the hilt of your chin tilting it to deepen the already erotic kiss, tasting the insides of your cheeks.

He captures your bottom lip in between his bunny teeth pulling it with floppy sound. He looks down upon you with lust blow irirses wide spreading his legs to straddle your bare thighs and to rub his knee against your soaked centre.

"Meh filthy girl's jealous t' 'er fuckin' core, innit?" You shake your head left and right in utter innocence. He laughs at your effort. Degradingly, intimidatingly rough from his chest that prominents your heavy breathing and a soapy patch of arousal in your thong.

"Now lyin' t' meh aren't ya, bunny." He smirks with stern brows tapping your chin and your dainty squeak traps in your lungs when he yanks you off the bonnet against the door side of the car squeezing between the two cars for less visibility of the dirty things they're about to do.

He kisses the dip where your shoulder meets your neck trailing his parted lips between your breasts tweaking your nipples harshly from the flimsy cloth, "not jealous, right?" He mumbles grazing his teeth against your jawline pecking the corner of your lips.

"No." You choke out slip shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against the window as he thrusts the buldge of his thick hard cock in his pants against your cunt, one hand gripping your hip with bruising force you love other around your throat.

"Not even if I'll be...on me knees fo' him? He heaves out flushing your sweaty chests together and your eyes rolls to your skull with his pressure building on your throat, you grind against him with moans of ecastasy him perfectly rubbing up and down between your weepy pussy lips.

He smirks in victory knowing it's warming you up so he continues in slurred seductiveness, "no' when I'll beg fo' his cock in me mouth? fo' him to deep throat meh, t' fuck me mouth?" You whimper. Shivering hands reaching for him, instead of grabbing them as he usually do with gentleness he wrapped his one palm around your wrists locking them atop your head roughly.

He slaps your pussy and you ducked forward crying out with pleasure into his chest. He tugs at your thong ripping it to shreds and stuffing it to his pocket, "when I'll spread me legs fo' him...." His hard on poking against your stomach as he toyed with your clit. He swipes the tip of his fingers up and down circling it around your weeping hole collecting your moisturizer and snaking it up past your mound and tummy to nipples wetting them. Actually, making a complete mess of you.

"Harry..." You whine raising your hips and he spanks your thigh tapping your chin to open up stuffing his fingers into your mouth, "shut up and suck." You swirls your tongue around his slender digits; a string of saliva attached with your lips as he pulled them out.

"Tell meh ye're jealous, 'n I'll give ye'r tight pussy meh fingers." He pinches your clitoris flickering it into rapid motions, "wh-why should i? when m' not." you spurts out. Tears in your eyes as he eggs you on removing his fingers the moment you were about to soak his digits.

He tuts pushing his dick hard against you, "ye' wouldn't if he'd fuck meh in arse again 'n again, if he'd take me in his mouth 'n play with meh balls like yeh do?" He asks in a low voice looking down in between himself and you, the sight makes him growl as he gave a minute to your imaginations to run wild.

"Ah..ah–daddy, please." You're thrashing in his arms but he doesn't give much attention to it spitting on your cunt and fondling with your sensitive nerves. Harry's a prick that gets what he wants even when you're dripping down your legs for him.

"Answer meh, Y/N! Wouldn't ask again." He grits with a threatening voice and you bobbed your head vigorously. "Use ye'r words." He hovers his middle finger over your entrance.

"Course, I will." He pecks your lips with satisfied grin shoving his middle finger knuckles deep inside your sloppy pussy without any warning causing you to go feral that he had to hold you in one place, "warm like always." He grunts slipping it in and out joining another. Curling it against your spongy walls to quench out moans and whimpers from you.

He digs his teeth inside the flesh of your shoulder and you coiled your arms around him tightly, "oh my god, fuck. fuck. fuck." Your shouts muffles against him as he continuously massaged your g-spot, siscorsing his fingers to fuck you raw with them. He cups his calloused palm and rubs the heel of it against your swollen clit.

"Tell daddy how ye' feel." You kneaded your breasts stuttering with difficulty, "'s good daddy but wan' your cock, inside me." He thwacks your bum groping it and roughly slamming his fingers inside you his metal cold rings brushing against your sticky pussy lips.

"Don't like it when yeh act greedy." You ignore his sharp tone sensing your orgasm build in your tummy and spreading like a wildfire to your bones.

"'cum–m'. May..I come, daddy? Please." You rocked on his hand using his shoulders for leverage, "cum like a sweet good girl yeh are." He says kissing you slowly and you tugged at the lapels of his coat cumming hard on his fingers coating it with your thick cum.

He hugged you swaying you feet to feet one hand still pushing inside you with brutal pace to take every drop from you. His wrist glistening with your cum and wetness in an instant his mood switching, "backseat, spread your legs. I wan' your pussy ready fo' me."

.

MASTERLIST.

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb #fluff #harry angst #daddy harry #dom harry #harr styles one shot #harry styles dirty one shot #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #hsh #harry styles imagine #cute harry #dirty harry styles imagines

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 7 Damian x reader

"Ira! I need my emergency kit!" Molly is pulling at my hair with a brush, I grimace at my reflection, she had put pearls and violet gems in my hair. Seeing as it already wasn't long bearly pushing past my ears, even though there aren't many of them in there it ways down in some places. I had already allowed her to put me in a ball gown, which I'm sure costs much more than my apartment building. It reminds me of peacock feathers, purples, greens, blues fill the cloth they blend seamlessly dark purple at the top and ending with blue at the bottom. I look at the matching marbled shoes and guilt climbs through me.

"Molly I don't need makeup, I'm already in a peacock dress, and there are gems in my hair. Besides the mascara is enough I don't want to spend an hour rubbing anything else off." Molly gasps, a hand gripping at her heart.

"Why-how could you say such a thing!" Ira hands Molly her phone, she screams. "We're going to be late! Ira put the bag back!" I'm yanked from my chair and raced down the hall within minutes I'm thrown into a limo with Molly's parents. Molly jumps in starting to yell at the driver shocking her parents who kept telling her to calm down. It doesn't take long to get to Wayne Manor, the courtyard is crowded filled with flashing lights from cameras reporters, and newscasts. They surrounded every inch with an exception of a semi-circle right at the front of the building where the car pulled up. Once more I'm pulled roughly out of the vehicle by molly, I nearly trip going up the stairs.

"Molly dear, we need to go in together!" My friend's mother pants from behind her husband seems to be in a similar position as me. Like mother like daughter.

I pull my arm away from Molly gently and smooth out my peacock dress, I sigh internally finding relief that I had personally told Molly to make the dress so it covered without it being tight. If I didn't then I would be pulling up the fabric like Molly who went not so modest. Not only had she blinged out she full-on black and high heels that pushed out her height. She looked good, and she made her parents match. When her mother finally catches up she puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

What happens after the incident leaves me at a table sitting behind a card with my name on it. Molly was seated somewhere else because I had used my own invitation instead of being a plus one. My eyes cast over the room soaking in again the decor of the newly decorated main floor. My energy seems to drain while I watch the people chat dance and laugh. No one was seated at my table and I was slightly relieved but I still felt odd. I had gone to parties with my mom in the past, ones that were held in her honor about her findings. I feel myself relishing in those memories I had looking back at the times she would pull a silly face at me while I was bored at said parties, or told a joke in some of her speeches. My mother was the expert in The Islamic Golden Era, despite not being a Muslim herself. She prided herself on giving credit to those who deserved more but had their work stolen by Europeans. But then, when she went on that Egypt and Greece dig she had found something that unnerved her. I knew what it was, and I wish I hadn't either. My happy thoughts turn sour, and I can feel myself grimace. I am tired...so tired.

"You made it, It's good to see you here." my head whips around falling on emerald eyes.

"Yeah, I had already told Molly that she could take me to the next party she goes to. However, I didn't know that if you came with an invite and not a plus one that you had to sit at a separate table." He snorts and sits down to my right.

"You were originally sat by her but father assumed I needed a friend," He shows me a card with his name on it. "so he changed Grayson out for you."

"Do you not have friends?"

"None close by."

"When have I accepted you as a friend?" He smiles

"That is a good question, but the same goes for me, you more someone I tolerate."

"Same here, Besides your a bad influence."

"tsk,...touche." his gaze looks me up and down and I have the sudden urge to say 'eyes up here'.

"You look tired, would you like to go to the library?"

"Usually libraries and tired people don't mix."

"How about a tour then, we have several artifacts my father has purchased that you might find interesting." He pushes harder.

"You want an excuse to leave, don't you? I thought my main purpose for being here was to talk to Mr.Wayne, not venture into the mansion." He sighs with his own body, visibly exaggerating the movements.

"My father is deeply preoccupied already in another engagement, he won't even be here for hours. Would you prefer to stay here doing nothing or would you like to leave?" He sounds rather annoyed while looking off to his left and scowling more. I follow my eyes to a group of three who I recognize from the cafe, all of them are pointing and smirking. I being to feel more drained at the thought of them coming here and stand. "Your home, where to first?" He shoots up, grabbing my hand dragging me through the dense crowd of people.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Amazing, this would date back to the early years of feudal Japan, this is Greek! Oh! There's a Khopesh and a Canaan Sickel sword on this wall!"

Damian scoffs sounding more like a laugh than a mocking tone. "You can tell the difference." I give him a look, feeling offended.

"Of course I can, you mostly can tell by the markings on the blade." I turn my head back to the wall slowly pointing to the distinguishable pieces of evidence. "This one is older Hebrew, and here you can see small hieroglyphics depicting the sun. Plus the metals on each blade are very different." I tilt my head back to him, his face stays indifferent. "You knew that already didn't you?" He nods and walks again.

"You must really like history, seems like you could talk about it none stop." He calls back.

"Did you forget who my mother was?"

"I thought she specialized in the Islamic golden era."

"It didn't mean she didn't know the history of other peoples. My mother developed research of anything she could get her hands on." I pause for a minute. "What about you, where did you learn."

"I was taught by some of the best in the world, my mother made sure of it."

"I see." We talk more while examining the objects displayed, I had fun just listening to him explain how his father got some of them. Though the collection wasn't huge it still made me a bit happy to see the objects. My phone buzzes, and I quickly take it out of my pocket.

Molly: Hey where are you we need to get going!

Molly: Dad got too drunk and now he's crying about the world.

Molly: We will be outside, Be there.

"Sorry, I have to get going, I'll see you at school later!" I run through the hall and snag as many macarons as I can on the way out. Molly waves from the car opening the door so I slide in faster.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Sorcerer found. Name: Doctor Fate, Subject: host"

"Anyone else?"

"Database shows,... John Constantine, and Zatanna. All other information is unavailable."

"Gather what they have on the crows send probes if you must."

"Proceeding."

Nightmare stands by the window waiting for his queue. I pull a scale out from the box and open the window. I hand him the scale and he chews effectively destroying the small miracle. "Remember stay out of sight if someone spots you wipe it from their memory and if you see a crow take the fight to the in-between and go for the kill. You have a little bit of my power with you only use it when needed." He purrs, rubbing his head on my hand, then jumps. He vanishes. I sigh putting the device in the box marked with an X just in case and push it under my bed. I head out into my living room putting some things away and cleaning here and there. Proud of my work I turn on the TV and sprawl on my sofa with a bowl of popcorn. Reruns of Highlander play on one of my favorite channels, I smile at my luck and sing to the theme song.

*Thunk thunk thunk*

I jump at the sound, I hear the noise again and follow it to my kitchen bat in hand. I flip on the light and smack my face, a very wet robin scowls at me through the glass. Only then did I notice the rain, and I pray that Nightmare is staying safe. I open the door and let him in, he mutters a thank you while walking in dipping water on my floor.

"Not to be rude, but is there something you need?" He ignores me and continues dragging water on the floor to the living room.

"Robin?" I catch up to him, he pulls something out from his ear and stuffs it in his pocket.

"I would like to stay here for a little while"

"How long is a little while, will I need to pull out the bed in the couch?" He gives me a look.

"There's a bed in your couch?"

"Sometimes I want to watch TV while I do my homework, laying down here makes it easier." I go to the bathroom to pull out some towels.

"Where was this when I was heavily injured?"

"I'm sorry, but the fact that you were bleeding was more concerning. I also put new sheets on the bed and you broke a perfectly good window. There is still blood on my cushions, and you wanted me to place you on the bed?" grabbing the biggest fluffiest towel in the bunch walking back out to the living room.

"You still on about that?"

"It was expensive!" I hold out the towel, he takes it and places his yellow cape in my hand. I frown but head to the coat rack hanging the heavy fabric on the highest rung. I feel short noticing its length, I turn back to Robin who's sat down on the couch the large towel engulfing him completely minus his hair. The black strands stuck oddly to his face and drooped sadly, I almost laugh because he looks like a sad cat. Like Nightmare whenever I give him a bath, I think I have a picture of that somewhere. "Did you want something to drink or eat?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you offer something?"

"It's a hospitality thing I got living in Minnesota, it's just being nice. Besides, you work to protect people, don't you? It only makes sense that I offer you something, I doubt you get paid to do your job. I bet you have countless scars from just doing so, I can do my part and help you feel comfortable. Call it a form of respect."

"Tsk."

I stroll into the kitchen, "Well, I suppose I could give some soda, tea, or water after all you left plenty on the floor."

"What happened to respect?"

"Well, I have feelings to sir! Tossing my words aside like that, I shouldn't even feed you." I poke my head back out, I smile at his scowl while he in turn glares at me. "Now for once, I am out of tea but I have several cans of cherry coke and some popcorn and macarons from a party I went to earlier. How about that?"

"That's fine." I hum grabbing what I needed and plopped back down in my seat handing him the coke. I place the brightly colored macarons and some chips I found between us along with the popcorn. I let myself get absorbed into the Highlander again just as MacLeod beheads another immortal and gains his Quickening.

"What is this?" My Jaw drops while I look at him concerned.

"Just how uncultured are you." His face flushes and his face twists he opens his mouth but i stop him. "Say no more, I will be right back." I come out with my computer and pull up VUDU opening season one of the show. "Sit back buckaroo, now your in for the long haul. Now right now all you need to know is 'There can only be one." His face contorts in confusion, but gives in and moves closer.

"I'm not going to get in trouble with Batman am I." He smirks.

"Most likely."

"Dammit."

#wayne #scifi #damian #bruce #bats #fanfiction #xreader #characterxreader #jason todd #tim drake #character x reader #mxf #fxm #batboys #batboys x reader #Damianxreader #X reader #DC #Marvel #MarvelxReader #DCxreader #batfam #mutants #Damian Wayne x reader

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson reader insert #female reader #reader insert #fem reader

[spvce-cowboy]

hc: this is a weird one but what if reader and Frankie's kid don't get along that well at first but bond over their love for Frankie idk

OH YEAH NO I LIKE THIS A LOT ACTUALLY 

could be considered a part of the drivers license universe but doesn’t have to be! also inspired by one of my favorite comics of all time

it’s really fucking frustrating, to say the least.

you’ve never been good with kids--well, you treat kids like you’d treat just about any adult. straight forward, slightly blunt, always to-the-point. sometimes that works out well for you, sometimes it doesn’t.

but lucia is a daddy’s girl, through and through. so just about any time you’re left alone with her, it’s a bit of a disaster. 

frankie doesn’t believe you when you say she doesn’t like you, telling you that you’re just being to hard on yourself. but as soon as the two of you are alone in a room together she’s either screaming at the top of her lungs, or she’s refusing to even acknowledge your existence. nothing works, despite your best efforts to win her over.

so you practically deflate when frankie asks you to spend the afternoon with her while he meets up with some of the boys. you can’t say no, obviously, but it’s nearly at the tip of your tongue before you’re able to muster your most chipper: “sure!”

you take her to the museum. it’s something you can make a day out of-- there’s a children’s gallery to the back of the building and lots of Neo-Classical sculptures near the cafe area. you think kids like Greek stuff--right? you still remember some of the stories well enough to turn them into something a four-year-old could take interest in.

she does not deign to hold your hand, and you don’t want to push, so you’re hyper-vigilant of her little footsteps beside you, constantly checking to make sure she’s still there. you’re trying to subtly guide her towards the exhibit you had in mind without seeming too overbearing, but the two of you seem to endlessly wander through the winding hallways without getting anywhere.

you know you’re well and truly lost when you wind up in the post-modern gallery. because of course you end up in the least possible engaging exhibit with a temperamental toddler in tow. nothing could go right for you, could it?

the massive canvases of the Abstract Expressionists leer down at you as you desperately try to re-orient yourself. with the flimsy museum pamphlet in one hand, you attempt to get a grip on your surroundings while bracing for the oncoming tantrum.  

but for some reason, lucia’s determined to stay. 

she tells you this by tugging on the bottom of your shirt with her pudgy fist, big brown eyes looking up at you defiantly. you glance around your surroundings, brows furrowing with confusion.

“what, here?” you ask.

she points to the canvas suspended on the far wall. you regard her for a second before your expression softens. giving a curt nod, you take a hesitant step forward. she follows, fingers still knotted in the edge of your t-shirt.

the painting she has in mind is a joan mitchell piece. sunflower. it’s one of your favorites. 

the two of you stand a few paces away from it for a moment. biting your lip, you decide to test your luck. 

“it helps if you stand close enough so that it’s all you can see,” you tell her in a low whisper, crouching down to get at her level. she looks at you evenly, eyes still puffy from a previous fit of crying, where all she could manage was whimpered variations of papa until you got her to eat some apple slices.

wordlessly, lucia stretches both arms up, hands making the universal grabby motion for up. it’s as much of a peace treaty as you’re ever gonna get. 

you pick her up, balancing her against your hip and taking another step forward. the canvas is the only thing in your field of view, but it doesn’t feel overwhelming. it doesn’t swallow you whole like the Twombly opposing it. there’s a soft quality to the chaos. it’s what you’ve always liked about it.

“bird.” lucia points a stubby finger up at a splattering of yellow that could only suggest a pair of opened wings. you adjust your grip on her slightly, cocking your head a bit to look at it from her angle.

“yeah,” you say, a soft smile dancing across your lips. “yeah, it could be. couldn’t it?” 

#frankie morales x reader #thots (tm) #frankie thots

[taumoeba]

"Of Course I Can Illustrate a Book Jacket" by John Rocco, from the 10th anniversary edition of The Lightning Thief, 2015

(text version for readability under the cut)

image 1: "Of Course I Can Illustrate a Book Jacket!"

The story behind my first book jacket assignment and how I came up with the image for The Lightning Thief

It was the spring of 2005 and, after spending the previous fourteen years working as an art director in an entertainment field, I was ready to pursue my dream of having a career in children's books. I knew only one person in the industry: Rob Weisbach, the publisher at Miramax Books. Rob said, "You know, we have this book that we need new cover art for, and I know you'd be just perfect for it." My response was, "Of course I can illustrate a book jacket!" (In retrospect, I'm not sure if I was trying to convince him, or myself.)

After I read The Lightning Thief, I met with the book's editor, Jennifer Besser. I went on and on to her about how much I loved the book, and as I tried to describe what I thought would make a good cover, I realized that I should have sketched out my idea. I pulled out my sketchbook, scratched out a very rough pencil drawing, and held it up. Her face took on a polite but puzzled look as she tried to decipher it. I spent about a minute doing another, more detailed drawing of my concept. Jennifer immediately lit up, smiled warmly, and said, "Yes, that is the way to go. Go with that."

[To the left is a photocopy of his sketch, which features the figure of a boy holding a pen. He is standing in water and the reflection of his pen in the water is a sword. There are tall skyscraper buildings in the background.]

With any cover art, what I try to do is create a promise. If the image intrigues you, you'll pick up the book, and I promise you'll like what's inside.

image 2: When I first read The Lightning Thief, this is what stood out for me: it's the story of a kid who is stuck in the middle of an argument between two adults, and he feels helpless and alone. That's what I wanted to show. Sure, those two adults were Zeus and Poseidon, and yes, the argument was over a seven zillion-watt lightning bolt, but those details would inform the imagery, not overwhelm it.

So I knew I was going to have Percy alone on the cover. I didn't want to actually show Zeus and Poseidon, so I thought the best way to represent them would be with a stormy sea (Poseidon) and a stormy sky (Zeus). I chose to put Percy in the water, as he is the son of Poseidon, staring at the New York City skyline-- in particular, the Empire State Building.

A lot of people ask me why I have Percy with his back to us on the cover. I did that for two reasons. First, when I'm reading a book and the main character's face is clearly visible on the cover, I can no longer make up my own ideas about that character. There is no room for my imagination. If I don't see his face, he could be anybody. He could even be me! I love books that make me feel like the hero of the story. Second, with Percy facing away from us, we, as readers, are on the adventure with him, following him into the book.

[To the right is a more detailed version of the sketch from image 1. On the top half of the drawing, there are strikes of lightning in the air and a storm cloud hovering over a city with many skyscrapers. The silhouette of the Empire State Building is in the middle of the city. The bottom half of the drawing is an ocean, in which a boy is standing with his back to the audience. He holds a sword in his right hand and faces the city skyline.]

Others might ask: why didn't you put any mythological imagery on the cover? Honestly, I felt it wasn't necessary. There are so many books already out there about Greek myths, and I didn't want it to be one of those "Here's a great adventure book and you're also going to learn something along the way!" That's kind of a turn-off for me. Also, the Greek mythology connection is inherent in the series title: Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

image 3: I had figured out that I wanted to show a young boy standing in a raging sea with a massive storm overhead, with the New York City skyline in the background, lit up by lightning. How was I going to make this faceless boy stand out with all of that going on? With color. I knew Percy's shirt was going to be orange, because that's the color of the Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. So, in order to make him "pop" from the background, I chose to use a complementary color everywhere else. On the color wheel, the opposite of the red-orange of Percy's shirt is blue-green. Percy would be the only warm thing on the cover; the rest would be very cool. When there is something warm in a painting, it always tends to "come forward," and the cooler colors tend to recede. As an illustrator I use this tool to give my paintings depth.

The Lightning Thief was only one of the many covers I have illustrated for Rick Riordan's books. I even reillustrated my own covers for Percy Jackson! My new art for the series, which creates a mural when the books are placed side-by-side, was unveiled in 2014. But the original Lightning Thief cover will always hold a special place in my heart, because not only was it for the first book in a phenomenal series, but it was also my first-ever cover art. I'm proud that it has become associated with a classic piece of children's literature.

Happy anniversary, Percy!

John Rocco

#john rocco #pjo #blah blah blah #as i was saying before..... john deserves his rights #let me know if i need to edit anything in the text version! #100

[nitannichionne]

The Rise of Isis (Henry Cavill/Superman Fanfic), Chapter 5: Palace of the Past (Isis POV)

Chapter 5: Palace of the Past (Isis POV)

ISIS POV

Hototo was far more obedient at times.

I wanted to see technology from today. Chinzari had told me about it, but when I asked questions he kept saying how much rest I needed. I wanted to see for myself. I needed to.

I waited for Chinzari to go meet the Hopis. He said he would be gone for days, and I knew now Hototo would not have him to tell him what to do. I would tell him what to do now and he could not defer to Chinzari, whom I felt I owed my life and respect to.

Hototo brought me something called a TV and laptop. It seemed as if every machine he let me see had a tail for energy or complex machines inside them to make them work. I watched him connect.

"I understand some language, but not all," I told him as I looked at the TV and looked down at the laptop buttons. "Where is the stone?"

"The stone?"

"The Language Codex?" I watched Hototo look very uncomfortable. "I understand I have been gone. I will not punish you for what has happened. Where is the Language Codex? Where are the books?"

I watch Hototo cringe. "They were taken."

"Taken?"

"By England," Hototo answered. "The British?"

"Who are they?"

"One kingdom that invaded other lands unified to became one--"

"Like the Romans and Greeks," I frowned. "Even before my slumber, I could see they wanted everything they could get their hands on."

Hototo shook his head. "Not exactly." He began to look fearful. "They are one of the richest and most powerful countries--"

"Standing on the shoulders of Egypt and other lands, no doubt," I nodded. "This Britain-United Kingdom-they stole from Egypt?"

"They discovered much and wanted to learn."

"They found things and took them," I corrected. "And what of our things?"

"They are on display."

"Display?" I repeated. "Like animals in a zoo?"

His gaze dropped to the floor. "Yes, goddess."

"Where?" I asked softly. When Hototo didn't respond, I asked, "WHERE?!"

"The British Museum," Hototo swallowed hard. "A palace to the past."

"A palace of education made of stolen lives and knowledge," I bit out. "Take me there."

"My goddess--"

"Do not make me look for it myself," I warned, pointing at him. "I promise I will blaze a path for all to see if you don't."

*************

Flying the world is an experience. I could tell there was much that had changed and much to see, but right now I had something else to do. I landed with Hototo and straightened my new age clothes. I was in a white tuxedo, as Hototo called it. The only thing I still wore was the crown and necklace I was laid to slumber with.

We walked inside and he led me to the Egyptian Exhibit. It was a house of horrors.

"Hototo!" I cried. "They took people, Hototo!"

"Shh, my lady!"

I covered my mouth, trying not to collapse and weep. "I knew them!" I pointed. "Wait-where are their bodies?"

"They study--"

"No, this isn't study!" My voice steadily rose. "This is blasphemy! Yes, I know that word-blasphemy! When Egyptians studied, they did it in prayer, away from others!" I paused. "Where are their jars?"

"Elsewhere."

"When Kryptonians died and did not want to wait for the sun to revive them, they asked that their insides be taken out. We could live many years."

"Egyptians did that."

"They got the ritual from us hoping to join us in the heavens," I told him, shaking my head. "They did not realize we were just tired of living and were ready to pass and let the next generation rule. Lightning usually ended a Kryptonian's life, but the Egyptians thought it meant our souls went to the sky."

Hototo looked sad. "Many things have changed."

"No it hasn't," I sneered. "Barbarians are running the world!"

"Excuse me, Miss?"

I turned to see what I assumed was a United Kingdom guard.

"Is there a problem?"

"None of this belongs to you!"

Anther man came forward. "We discovered and procured it--"

"You must be scholar, judging by your seeing glasses and lack of muscle." I looked the man over.

"We assure you, we are giving utmost respect--"

I turned and walked away. "Ah, the Language Codex." I looked at the bottom. "Kryptonian on the bottom. We wanted to put our language there, so others would know we helped build the foundation of your civilization."

"What?" the scholar frowned. "That's not true--"

"Were you there?"

"Were you?"

I let my eyes flash.

The guard stepped behind the scholar. "Miss, you need to leave now."

I turned to Hototo. "Leave now."

"What?" Hototo's eyes widened with fear.

"I cannot protect you while I do what I am about to do," I hissed. "Go!"

He bowed and left.

"Who are you?" the scholar asked. "If you have information--"

"Isis."

"Isis?" the scholar gave a laugh. "You think--"

"You think--" I rose above their heads, ignoring the crowd's reaction. "I know!" I let my eyes glow. I landed on top of the Language Codex case. "GET OUT!"

Many left, but many lifted the small devices they carry. I remembered that Chinzari said they capture likenesses but not spirits in the blink of an eye.

I used my heat vision to pierce the see through case. I dropped and flew upward, lifting the stone with my mind.

"Hey!" the scholar yelled. "She's taking the Rosetta Stone!"

"You've had it long enough," I sneered. "I'm taking it back." I scanned the area and held out my hands to hold the Book of Life and the Book of the Dead in them. "Thieves! Barbarians!" I blew a wind that scattered all who remained. I looked at the scholar. "Tell your scavengers I am taking back their spoils!"

I pushed the things out of the ceiling with my mind and headed behind them.  Just then I saw another in the air. It was a man in colors of the ocean, with a cape that swirled around him like fire.  He came after me, and he was fast.

"Stop!"

I turned, sending the objects along. I gave a small smile and read his suit. It was Kryptonian, but the style was a little more ornate than I remember. "No."  I pushed him back sending him into a spin into the stars and made my escape. I didn't have time to fight or negotiate, right now I just wanted to take back these pieces of myself.

@mistress-of-ward @nuggsmum @messyinsomnimaniac @jencanbeyouryengeralt @sweetdreamsofgelato @mary-ann84 @omgkatinka @the-soot-sprite @viking-raider @keanureevesisbae @henryobsessed @summersong69 @sunshine96love @michelehansel @thelastsock @tumblnewby @tenaciousneckpartypainter @rn7rocks @daydreamin83 @ruthoakenshield @musicartmayheminmyheart @kaatelyynn-blog-blog@forallthebrokenheartedthings @alphacancrii @liquorlaughslove @designerwriterchic @tamychm @nikkilynn303 @circesgirl1 @xoxohannahlee @pixie88@fckdeusername @maan24 @kaatelyyynn​ @october505​ @absentmindr​ @introvertedmouse​ @sassy-pelican @griscka75 @kebabgirl67 @its-carlerr

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #clark kent #superman #superman fanfic #Justice league