#( conversations: phoebus. )

[greekgodssitcom]

Artemis: I’m a top

Apollo: You’re a virgin

[rose-greenhouse]

Alex exhaled through her nose, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, and leaned her head slowly from side to side, trying to stretch the tension from her neck. She didn’t answer right away, but the way her eyes flicked briefly toward the distant silhouette of the Palace of Justice was telling... if you knew what to look for.

“Something like that,” she finally said. “You try keeping your spine aligned after a night on old stone and colder air. But I’m not exactly asking for sympathy.” Her lips twitched in something resembling amusement.

She glanced at Ariana now, her gaze a little softer than before. “You know, I like you,” she said, rather suddenly, and without a trace of irony. “Most people give me looks like I’ve stepped out of a cursed painting, but you…” she lifted her chin slightly, considering. “You’re oddly calm. Almost makes me wonder what they teach in those libraries of yours.”

Then, she smirked. A different gleam entered her eyes, the kind that came just before a teasing jab.

“So… the Captain of the Guard, huh?”

Her tone was light.

“Can’t fault your taste. That man walks like he knows his sword���s the second most dangerous thing about him.”

Oddly comfortable now, Snowball flicked his ears behind her in contentment.

ariana’s head turned to look at alex a little better, something resembling a small, amused smile graced her lips.

“ah, i had a similar situation the other day. don’t worry, you’re not alone.” she said, an amused laugh escaping her lips.

“and i appreciate the compliment,” she added, her gaze softening slightly. “i’ve seen worse as a scholar and as a person.”

a light pink tint formed across her cheeks when alex mentioned phoebus.

“a-aha, he’s quite prideful in that way huh?”

[gardenofhearts]

Headcanon - Love and Deepspace boys as Disney Princes

This came to me out of nowhere but was also quite fun and challenging to write, since the boys are such interesting characters. Do note that not all the "princes" are official princes, I just used that term because it's quick and easy. I hope you'll enjoy this and if you have other opinions, please let me know! I would love to hear your thoughts on this

English is not my first language, apologies in advance. The gradient banners are made by me as a bit of try out to see how they look. If you wish to use them you can do so if you credit me. Thank you and happy reading <3

Xavier

Xavier was a bit of a hard one to really pin down. So, I would say a part of him reminds me of Shang Li. Both are trained in combat, and take time to warm up to you, both are also quite loyal to you.

Due to Xavier’s strength and from what I have seen in his memories sort of boy next door vibes and cuteness I will also say he reminds me of Hercules. Hercules has that sort off cute awkwardness to him that I feel sometimes Xavier also has. In addition to that, Hercules would and has almost sacrificed himself to save Megara which in my opinion is similar to Xavier’s decision to leave his home, not knowing what could happen, to save his love.

Zayne

For the most part he gives me Robert from Enchanted vibes, a bit more reserved and a tad cynical while also being frank. However, I also think Zayne is partly Prince Philip, brave and loyal; a prince who charges into battle to save his love which I think fits Zayne. Also fun fact Robert’s last name is Philip! Both also fought dragons lol, something Zayne would definitely also do to save you.

I also believe there is a hint of general Shang Li within him, both incredibly devoted to their work and also very good in their respective areas. Also, just like Zayne, Shang Li at first seems a bit cold but once you get to know him better you’ll see just how soft and sweet they truly are even if it’s not always immediately noticeable.

Rafayel

Sylus

Hear me out, prince Edward from Enchanted. I know, another character from Enchanted -sue me- but I do think he has similarities to prince Edward. They both lean on the dramatic side and I don’t doubt for a second that Rafayel would also sing ‘A true love’s kiss’ in public. Edward converses with a chipmunk, Rafayel converses with sea animals. They're practically twins.

The other prince I think Rafayel resembles is Cinderella’s prince, prince Henri, but the version from the third movie. A believer in true love and also a tad dramatic, Rafayel would also jump out a window to go after his one true love. He also, just like Prince Henri, searched quite some time for his love and had to go through quite some trouble to find you.

This might be unpopular but he reminds me of Dimitri from Anastasia: witty, sarcastic, smart and from my pov both in a way underestimate their love interests. Just like with Dimitri does is take some time for Sylus to ‘soften’ a bit, in the beginning he was a lot harsher yet from more recent memories we see a very different side to him.

I also think he has a touch of prince Naveen, with how they’re both a bit reckless and love to spend money. Unlike Naveen though I don’t believe Sylus’ is much of a ladies man, in my opinion he would dislike such superficial relationships.

Lastly, I think he also has a touch of prince Adam/the Beast, both a bit coarse in the beginning yet just like the other princes Adam softens up and becomes a big supporter of Belle similar to Sylus with you.

Caleb

Caleb gives me a mix of prince Eric and Phoebus. Eric because both are in a way adventurous, Eric more so I’d say and also both are big time romantics. Eric believes in true love and Caleb believes you are his true love. Both are also very kind, Eric takes in a complete stranger and allows Ariel to stay in his castle while providing her all she could need without asking anything in return and Caleb similarly looks out for you, cooks for you and tries his best to make you happy. He wants to make sure you want for nothing.

I think Caleb also resembles Phoebus because both are able to keep a straight face but also quick to crack a joke. Also both are soldiers, al be it both aren’t exactly doing it super willingly. Phoebus does it to survive and Caleb had no say at all. I also think he has hints of Kristoff, although both are kind I do get the vibe that Caleb can come across as very cold just like Kristoff in the beginning. With Caleb this is most noticeable when he’s a colonel and the person that helps warm him up is obviously you.

Next headcannon: lads as the different types of Kens?

[juliusceasersblog]

Mea-culpa

Warning, this is the first fanfiction I've written since 2021.... anyway!!

In this story, y/n is a not so innocent nun. She and the "beloved" Archdeacon of Paris are close. *Extremely* close.

Kinks ( innocence, degradation, sadism, masochist, size difference, breeding, orgasm control, age play )

Click, click, clack

The noise vibrated through the Cathedral as she walked. Pushing through the doors of the kitchen where Reverend mother Jaqueline was waiting.

"Those shoes of yours are absolutely far too loud, sister y/n." The stout woman replied as she walked over to younger girl.

"My apologies, Reverend mother..'' she spoke with a slight whimper at the end of her sentence. "They were given to me by my late sister. She passed of the pox." Y/n spoke with a shutter.

"I know child. You told me when you were in your novice training." The greying lady spoke. "I did?" Y/n shrugged. "I must've forgotten about it." The nun shrugged again.

"Archdeacon Frollo is requesting your presence in the hall of justice. Questions about the orphans singing at the Christmas mass." Reverend mother explained.

The Young nun sighed. "He couldn't call on sister Margaret?'' Y/n called out as she busied herself with pulling a cloth off rising sour dough. "He told me he'd like to talk to you in specific." Reverend mother explained.

"Alright. I suppose we did Have a rather interesting conversation at Thanksgiving mass." Y/n explained with a smile.

"Oh goodness. I suppose I should get going if Archdeacon Frollo would like to speak to me before the midnight bells begin to ring." Y/n laughed. "I'll see you in confession Reverend mother." The young girl smiled as she walked out of the kitchen.

The walk to The hall of justice was a cold one. Frost had accumulated around the windows of the Cathedral and as y/n threw her dark wool coat on. A ring of fur was around the collar of the coat. Another gift from Claudette. Y/n's late sister.

Y/n exited the Cathedral and the cold air of the parisian winter hit her in the face. The walk to The palace of justice was not a lengthy walk by any means.

But as y/n walked up the steps of the hall. Raising her hand to knock on the door. But before her fist could meet the door. A young soldier opened the door.

His blonde hair was rested against his head as a halo would rest against a angels head. "Hello, sister. I don't believe we know eacho-'' the young man was inturrupted ny the sister.

"Captian, we have met on several occasions. At Thanksgiving mass and at the children's benefit last week. Phoebus. Am I correct?'' Y/n said with a small smile spreading across her face. A light blush across her cheeks now.

"Oh- yes- your the one who I pulled under the stai-" the capitan cleared his throat as a hand was pressed to his shoulder. Spindly fingers that were adorned with rings and such.

"Ah, capitan Phoebus. Nice to see that you've found the woman of the hour." The Archdeacon snapped. "I've been waiting well over an hour for you. Sister." Claude clapped quickly. Escorting her up to his office.

The Archdeacon pressed the door of his office shut. Humming and handing y/n a paper. A large scroll of parchment with 3 unsigned signature marks. "Here.'' He said.

Pointing at the spot where the sister had to sign. "I need Reverend mothers signature as well." Claude explained as y/n dipped her quill in ink and Began to write her name.

"Of course, these things must be in order for the matron of the orphanage. She expects everything in pristine order. Although she is paying for none of it.'' Frollo laughed stiffly.

"Thats unfortunate. I suppose they don't have much money.'' Y/n shrugged as she handed the parchment back to Claude with a small smile.

"I do have to wonder. Sister. About something I over heard.." the Archdeacon started out. "With your novice training, you are not supposed to be having any sexual relations. And as I've seen on several occasions. You clearly aren't following any of your training." Claude smirked as he stalked towards the young lady.

"Excuse me? How dare to talk to me like that. This is highly inappropriate conduct." The sister shuttered. Had he seen captian Phoebus on his knees. Eating her out as the churchgoers got the holy communion.

"If you don't want you and your .. sun-god to be exposed to the entire church. I suppose you give me what." The older man smirked. Standing behind the sister.

"Your just like the rest of them aren't you? Men, you all want the same thing in the end.'' Y/n snapped.

Before the young woman could tell what was happening. Claudes arm had traveled up to y/n's face. His hand colliding with the nun's face. Earning a yelp from the sister.

Her face became quickly red. Her hand had sat upon her cheek. Whining softly. Y/n took her hand from her face. Putting them on Claude's chest. Resting against frollo with a whine.

Frollo took her face in his hand. Her chin in his forefinger and middle finger. His thumb resting against y/n's jaw. Bringing his lips to brush against the sisters own.

Frollos kiss was soon inturrupted as y/n bumped against his desk. She sat down and the Archdeacon yanked her skirt up. Kissing up her thigh. Nipping at the inside. Drawing blood.

Y/n let out a groan of pleasure as she pulled her habit off. Her hair sliding around to frame her face and shoulders. "Just- please fuck me already." The sister begged.

Claude brought his hand to cover the young woman's mouth. "Don't have such foul language in the house of justice.'' Claude said sternly. Standing up and undoing his robes. Black pants and a black shirt adorned his body.

Unbuttoned his pants quickly. Opening his hand. "Spit in it." He said quickly. Lathering his cock in y/n's spit. Groaning and taking her undergarments off quickly. Pushing into the girl as she put her hands on claudes shoulders.

Moving so y/n threw her head back. Moaning loudly and biting on Frollo's neck. "You certainly don't sound like a virgin.'' The Archdeacon taunted.

Y/n scoffed. "How many anatomy books have you looked at to know how sex works?" The sister taunted in response. Watching as claude growled lowly. Feeling his neck being bitten.

Claude let his hand move lower. Circling y/ns clit with tight and hard circles. Smirking as she bit down on her hand to draw blood.

The sister nearly came then and there. How was he so good at this? Was he a virgin. His movements inside of her said otherwise.

Frollos cock was large. Longer than it was girthier. Looking upon the girl as he felt her thighs began to shake. The soft flesh of her thighs shaking as she came around his cock. "F-fuck-'' the nun cried out.

"That was fast. Shall I cum inside you? On your ass? Your bosom?'' Claude called out.

"Inside of me- please?'' She begged. Claude was close himself. His age had been catching up with him snd he could tell he couldn't last as he used to.

Frollo came deep inside her. Spilling his seed all over her womb and kissing her as he did so...

_________________

That's it... #Yolo

[muttering-folklore]

i feel like quasi’s tower would easily become the sort of Spot where everyone would go and hang out in. and by everyone i mean like. esmeralda and clopin and phoebus etc. but i feel it would lead to some awkward conversations when they go to talk about what’s in the belltower. esmeralda is like “oh the bed i put phoebus down on when he got shot was just makeshift or something right” and quasi is then like 🧍‍♂️ Um. No I Have Always Slept On The Floor Like That. Is There A Problem. they quickly realise he has the barest of the bare necessities to even consider it a bedroom and then whenever they come over it just devolves into

but like….. from a place of Concern and Love

[changingplumbob]

Silver explained that he'd taken a picture of a bird Glenn might like but didn't know how to send it. Glenn patiently explained the steps needed so Silver hung up and sent the picture through before calling Glenn back.

Silver: Did you get it

Glenn: Yes. When you get back I'm going to show you how the zoom works okay? The bird was tiny

Silver: But the bird is tiny

Glenn: *laughing* That is true. How are you

Silver: Same as I was this morning

Glenn: Yes but I didn't get to talk to you this morning

Silver: I like it here, it's quiet. How about you

Glenn: I think we've discovered I am not quiet

Silver: I mean your day

Glenn: Oh right. Well I went to see Henri and he showed me how to make the potion of plentiful needs

Silver: Was it complicated

Glenn: Not too much

Silver: Because you know if you need more pleasure again I'll be coming back

Glenn: I do! He umm... he thought I should probably tell you something though

Silver: I'm listening

Glenn: So apparently the hue of the pleasure will be different depending on stuff like amount of people, occult status, novelty

Silver: Meaning he knows I'm a werewolf

Glenn: Well yes but... he could also tell it was my first time

Silver: First time with a werewolf or first time with a guy

Glenn: Oh you know just... first time with... anyone

The other end of the phone was silent and Glenn had to check he hadn't ended the call by accident.

Glenn: Beefcake... are you there?

Silver: Yeah I'm here just... processing

Glenn: I'm sorry if you think I should have said something. I just really like you and wanted to be with you and I was worried you wouldn't want to get intimate with me if you knew and now I'm rambling

Silver: It's cute *sighs* If I had known I'd have been a lot better

Glenn: What do you mean

Silver: I'd have been more romantic, I wasn't very romantic about it. I was *sighs*

Glenn: If it makes any difference I thought you were great

Silver: Next time I'll be better

Glenn: Beefcake please don't beat yourself up about this

Silver: I know modern thinking is different but back when I was raised the first time was really important

Glenn: Ah yes, 863 years ago

Silver: Nope, not my age

Glenn: I'm going to guess it one day

Silver: Sure you are. Point is I'll be more... passionate next time

Glenn: I do like the sound of "next time". Okay I know you can't see me but I just did air quotes

Silver: Did what?

They talked for a couple of hours. They ended up talking for a couple of hours every day.

Glenn spent his days working with the other spellcasters in the coven to sharpen his skills. He still preferred tending plants above any other magic but it was helpful to be taught other things. Silver took his time wandering around the woods of Windenburg, visiting his favourite spots and getting better at learning how to send pictures.

Of course eventually word of his werewolf got out (thanks Howard) and everyone had an opinion. Drusilla naturally thought he should be barred from the property and tried to put their foot down but Phoebus convinced them cooperation between occults could only be for the best.

Gillian was very pouty about not having met Silver but Glenn assured her the next time he returned she could. Just so long as they didn't all try meet Silver at once, he didn't want to risk overwhelming him. Ophelia, Miranda and Henri treated him just the same which was nice. They had become Glenn's friends so their opinion mattered to him.

Opinions that didn't matter of course were the opinions of the twins Jackson and Coleman. They began doing their best to fit some sort of dog joke in to every conversation. Glenn didn't mind. He'd rather they teased him than aggravate Silver.

A few weeks after he had left Silver called Glenn to let him know he was back outside the barrier and Glenn happily sped out of the house to help him inside the spells. When he got him inside he hugged him tight.

Silver: Hold on, I'm meant to be the one with super strength

Glenn: I just missed you

Silver: I told you I was coming back

Glenn: I know I just... worried. Especially with the occult hate crimes in the bigger cities

Silver: That's why I don't go through the cities. Plus they're too loud and smelly for me. But I was thinking, if you don't mind, I could stay weekends? Get my travel fix during the weeks and then always come back?

Glenn: Like a boyfriend?

Silver: Yeah. Like a boyfriend

Glenn: *swooning* I'd love that

Previous ... Next

[dr-futbol-blog]

The Long Goodbye, Pt. 12

Things start heating up as Phoebus contacts Caldwell and begins making threats, acutely aware that she is running out of time. It is quite possible that she is making use of Weir's expertise as a diplomat and negotiator here, knowing how to drive a hard bargain. Although Weir had warned Caldwell -- more than once -- that he does not want her as an enemy, it is not his first rodeo either. Caldwell is standing behind McKay as he is working on overriding her lockdown command, and although we have often seen Sheppard hover around McKay as he works, Sheppard tends to want to stand in front of his face so that he can see McKay. Caldwell also has his pelvis very obviously turned away from McKay in a way that Sheppard's seldom is. In fact, we have never seen Sheppard position himself like this around McKay, Caldwell very obviously leaning away.

Phoebus: Caldwell. Can you hear me? Caldwell: Go ahead. Phoebus: By now you're aware the city is entirely under my control, and there are several bulkhead doors between me and your nearest search teams. You can't possibly get to me. Caldwell: Yes, we're well aware. Phoebus: I'm sure Doctor McKay believes he can override my command code -- and it's possible in a matter of several hours he could, but I don't have that kind of time. Caldwell: We'd be more than happy to wait this out.

I invite you to take notice of the fact that although McKay is hard at work, knowing that lives may depend on him completing this task, when Phoebus speaks his name, he stops typing and looks up, paying attention. He seems almost frozen in place when his attention is focused by someone mentioning him by name, and Phoebus is not even talking to him, he is talking about him. It is natural for people to perk up when they hear their own name being spoken.

This is interesting because we see McKay do this same thing several times when they have Thalen on camera, and we have to ask the question of whether he is able to hear his name being spoken (or thought of) then too. Here, Phoebus' tone is derisive, and although we do not know where she is basing her assessment of it taking several hours for McKay to crack the system, the information must come from Weir. The timeframe that she gives here does not seem to be arbitrary, and they are clearly dealing with a complicated system, so we also have to raise the question of how exactly McKay is then able to get in so quickly.

Phoebus: Now who knows what kind of trouble I could cause with life support while I wait? Or maybe I'll just send a signal to the wraith, like you did. Caldwell: What do you want? Phoebus: I want Sheppard. Caldwell: Well, I'm sorry I can't help you with that. Is there something else I can do for you? Phoebus: Don't screw with me, Caldwell. At the very least, I can kill Weir. When you get him, contact me.

Weir and Caldwell have had several heart-to-heart conversations and it is entirely possible Caldwell has a soft spot for her. Weir also seems to have a good understanding of the kind of man Caldwell is, able to use the guilt he still feels regarding recent events against him. In fact, at the start of the episode Caldwell had told her that his purpose here was to make amends, so we are shown that they both know each other fairly well. There is emotion involved. Note that Caldwell relents when Phoebus tells him that she is holding Weir hostage.

There might also be some meta commentary here about people wanting to see a relationship or at least some of that unresolved tension between Weir and Sheppard, as would have been traditional on network television, and the writers are telling these people "I'm sorry, I can't help you with that" because that is not what this is about, that is not the story they are telling.

Chuck: Colonel Caldwell. We have three signals on two separate floors at the base of the tower. Caldwell: Weir has to be the one in the Science Lab, which leaves these other two over here. Chuck: The other one is Teyla. Caldwell: Then the other one has to be Sheppard. Teyla, this is Caldwell. Teyla: I was unable to capture Doctor Weir. Caldwell: So were a lot of people. Weir's put the city under a lockdown. I want you to go after Sheppard. You and he have been locked in the same section. He's one floor up. Teyla: I will contact you as soon as I have him. Teyla out.

So, the thing to note here is that the Canadian technician is able to locate Sheppard using the biometric sensors that are only even functional because McKay had been able to switch the power back on, and this biometric sensor is very much something that McKay had worked together on with Peter Grodin and its current manifestation is almost entirely his handiwork. Also in contrast to McKay earlier, who seemed to use more intuition in locating Sheppard, Chuck has now landed on his position using deductive reasoning. Also relevant for later is this: Teyla tells Caldwell that he was unable to capture Weir and Caldwell lumps her together with "a lot of people" who had been unable to do the same.

But now that they send her to go after Sheppard, we have to acknowledge the fact that the only reason she is able to find him is because they give her an assist here. They tell her where Sheppard is. And because the information comes to her through the double filter of from Chuck to Caldwell and from Caldwell to Teyla, and that you would have to remember McKay working on the biometric sensor so long ago to begin with, very much obscures the fact that Teyla is only able to capture Sheppard because of McKay. Had it not been for him, she would have continued rubbing her neck alone at the base of the tower without ever figuring out that Sheppard was one level up from her. Teyla is literally instructed on what to do by Caldwell. It is not because she has any special insight into how Sheppard thinks that she is able to accomplish this.

Thalen: Is this what you wanted, Phoebus? Another stalemate? I thought you wanted to finish this. Phoebus: What's wrong, Thalen? You can't get out?

From what we can see on the biometric sensor, Thalen had been able to get pretty close to Phoebus, only separated from her by a few bulk head doors. If Phoebus is feeling like she is running out of time, we can tell that Thalen is definitely running out of time because Sheppard sounds to be out of breath as he seethes with anger here, and it is not caused by his sprint or any other physical exertion. Thalen had been in worse condition than Phoebus when they got him out of the pod, and it seems that is why his imprinting is also shorter in duration than that of Phoebus. This seems to be creating a sense of urgency in him, and so he even tries to talk Phoebus in engaging with him, tries goading her to come at him. Phoebus does not take the bait and even goads him herself, her "You can't get out?" spoken in a tone that suggests she is taking a jab at his manhood. She is speaking the words like she was actually saying "What's wrong, you can't get it up?"

If we again convert what the two of them are saying. McKay definitely does not want the two of them to end up in a stalemate that never gets resolved, and he does not want to finish or end anything between them, he wants them to work things out. Phoebus's taunting about Thalen being unable to get out is also the polar opposite of Sheppard going out of his way to get McKay out of the bind he was in on the bottom of the sea. There might also be a reference to outing and coming out of hiding in here. Note also that again Sheppard and McKay are basically doing the same thing at the same time: they are both trying to get in. McKay is trying to force his way into the computer system that she has locked him out of and Sheppard, although not voluntarily, is trying to get in physically to where she has locked him out. The need to get in is something that both of them are experiencing at the same time.

Teyla: This is Teyla. I have Colonel Sheppard. Caldwell: Good work. Secure him and stand by for further instructions. The next move is hers.

Figuring that there is more than one way to skin a cow, Thalen decides to use Ronon's blaster to break the door locking mechanism to force himself out, and for some unfathomable reason he decides to do this not to the door that he was originally trying to open, which has the same mechanism, but to another door that would have led him away from Phoebus. It is a curious decision and he seemed to get the idea just as she was mocking him about not being able to get out. What gave him the inspiration or even the know-how we do not know but McKay is surely trying more than one way of getting into the system currently. Regardless, Thalen tries to pry his way through the door and we may note that he pushes his injured, probably smarting arm through first and hence is not looking, not expecting to find anyone on the other side. It is possible that if his hand had not been injured, he would not have tried to get through the door in such an awkward a fashion, might have been able to see what was waiting for him on the other side. For some reason, they at the very least want to show him coming out with the injured arm first, reminding us of McKay.

Thalen is surprised to see Teyla waiting for him, so he certainly did not expect to be captured by her. She is not the "only one of them" that worries him, and in fact he had been so not worried about her as to underestimate her completely, leaving her laying unconscious on the floor with no attempt whatsoever to secure her. Thalen was not concerned about Teyla, and hence we see a comical look of astonishment as she is able to take him out using the wraith stunner. And to belabour the point, Teyla would never have got to him during the lockdown had it not been for McKay. No special skill or insight into Sheppard went into this capture. Any one of Caldwell's space marines might have been able to do the same thing, she just happened to be there. Sheppard and Teyla do have a special bond, they do have a close relationship, but this is not evidence of that.

Teyla calls in her capture of Sheppard to Caldwell, and we may note again that McKay has stopped typing, and whether he is merely listening in when Sheppard is the topic of discussion or he had experienced some kind of a black out when Sheppard along with Thalen had suddenly been rendered unconscious we again do not know. However, Caldwell calls attention to McKay suddenly being rendered immobile by speaking the words "Next move is hers" while looking down at him at the same time. McKay knows he is under a time element and has to crack this thing, and yet during this whole time his work keeps coming to a halt, and the reason seems to be Sheppard every single time.

Phoebus: Caldwell? Do you have him or not? I'm losing patience. McKay: I'm working. Caldwell: We're working on it. Phoebus: I don't buy it, Colonel. Caldwell: I'm telling the truth. Phoebus: Oh, please! Even Weir thinks you're hopeless. She can't hide it. Caldwell: We're close. McKay: We're not close.

Phoebus calls in to hurry Caldwell on and this puts even further pressure on McKay. He tells Caldwell that he is working on it, and this is the third time in this episode that he says it ("Yes, working!" "Still working"). We can compare this with the previous episode during which McKay also said he was working to Sheppard while trying to come up with something that they might be able to use to save Ronon and Teyla in a pinch. They had the following exchange:

Sheppard: There's gotta be something you can do. McKay: Yeah, I'm working on it! Sheppard: Well, work faster!

What is notable about this is that Sheppard himself had been uncharacteristically demanding of McKay, needing him to produce results, needing him to come up with something and to do it even faster. As discussed in connection with the episode, this had a lot to do with Sheppard's fear as triggered by almost having come to lose McKay so very recently.

Although Sheppard does not usually treat McKay like this, what is notable here is the difference in how McKay responds. His tone is completely different when he was talking to Sheppard as opposed to how he says it to Caldwell. With Caldwell, he sounds annoyed and defensive, clearly resenting the pressure put on him. With Sheppard, he is only trying to communicate that he is attempting to do the thing Sheppard needs him to do, he is trying to deliver because doing things that Sheppard wants him to do is what gives his life meaning. There is not even a hint of annoyance or resentment in how he said it to Sheppard, the same words. And it is not even Caldwell that he resents here, it is the pressure put on his shoulders, the demand that he should be the one to fix everything again. This is precisely how Sheppard does not want him to feel like usually, which is why we so often see Sheppard try to come up with ideas and solutions for McKay to use, to show him that they are working together.

Note that although Caldwell says to Phoebus that he is telling the truth he is, in fact, lying. Not everything that people say is the truth, and we are reminded of this at the end of the episode when Weir tells Caldwell "Don't believe anything she said!" as though everything she had said had been a lie. However, what she tells Caldwell here may have more than the seed of truth in it, even if she is saying it in a way that is much meaner than Weir could ever be. Where Caldwell is lying, it is possible Phoebus is telling the truth and Weir does think he is hopeless, and at the very least this is something that Caldwell fears is the truth. Phoebus manages to use this to get under his skin. They also make reference to closeness, and we may recall that we started the episode with a "proximity alert" between Sheppard and McKay. McKay may say that they are not close -- and he is of course referring to his hacking of the system, he does not think he is anywhere near getting in yet and this is important for later -- but there are none that are closer in the whole host of people in this episode than Sheppard and McKay. Demonstrating that is the whole point of this exercise.

Phoebus: I have found an interesting way of rerouting your new halon fire suppression system all the way from Hazmat storage to personnel quarters. Now, that's where the majority of your city's population is holed up, isn't it? Caldwell: You know it is. Phoebus: Ironically, Doctor Weir was concerned when the system was installed that halon gas extinguishes people as well as fires. So, shall we take it to the point that I start counting down from an arbitrary number? Caldwell: We have him. Phoebus: I thought you might. There's a new security camera on the northern-most stairwell of that part of the tower. I want him taken there so that I can see him -- kicking and screaming, if possible.

Phoebus starts playing hardball, threatening to kill civilians, the majority of the population of the city if they do not give up Thalen, and Sheppard with him. Caldwell certainly seems to realize that she has them by the short and curlies. And even though it is the policy of the United States not to negotiate with terrorists, and he should not be doing it now that he is ranking officer in the city and has taken responsibility for the operation, Caldwell is not a bad man and seems unable to take that many lives onto his conscience. Phoebus has his back against the wall.

But take a look at McKay. He has completely stopped working, he is listening in with his whole entire attention. There is such fear on his face that we have seldom seen. We see him blink similar to when Sheppard has blinked, being at the end of his actual rope; like he blinked when he thought that McKay had died on the Ancient satellite platform. McKay is well aware that they are talking about Sheppard. He knows that they have caught Thalen and that Phoebus is demanding that he is handed over, and he knows that it is Sheppard they are talking about delivering to her. He knows Caldwell is talking about exchanging Sheppard's life to the lives of "the majority of the city's population".

McKay is afraid to do anything out of fear that what ever he might do or say might make the situation worse than it is, and it is plenty awful. We get these close-up shots of his face, of his anguish here for a reason. Because McKay dissociates, his reactions are so subtle that you might even be able to miss how deeply this is affecting him. Not even on the bottom of the ocean was he this afraid. You can see his mouth tremble, and we have seen him blink away tears that have welled up in his eyes before which is what he may be doing here, blinking so rapidly as to keep the military commander looking right at him from seeing him try his damnedest not to react while they are talking about giving over the man that he loves. He is wound so tight that his whole body seems to minutely shake with it.

Bringing it back to Conversion (S02E08), the way McKay looks here is very similar to what he looked like when Weir came in to tell them that it is time for them to say their final goodbyes to Sheppard. There was nothing more they could do and although he would not necessarily die, he would cease to exist, there would be nothing left of the Sheppard that they knew after the retrovirus had rewritten his entire genetic code. Weir had come to tell them that it was time to visit the man to say their final goodbyes whose bedside he was not allowed to stay at -- the bedside that everyone would have seen as his rightful place had they been married and he a woman. McKay is broken but because he is so loud when he is looking for sympathy and attention with scratches and scrapes, people fail to recognize that when he is truly hurt, he falls quiet and goes still. Not recognizing what his childhood trauma has done to him, these moments are easy to miss. They are subtle. He is sitting there in the commissary, wearing the shirt of the man he is asked to give up, and when you don't recognize his trauma responses, it might be easy to interpret this as the appropriate level of sad for losing a friend.

But we see the same subtle, understated response with him here. This is a man who knows that he is not allowed to show his feelings in front of the military, cannot let his breaking heart show even if the love of his life was dying because they would be able to strip him of his rank even posthumously, he would have to worry about destroying the man's legacy on top of everything else. We see two close-ups of McKay's face during this particular exchange because he is the one affected by this decision, he is the one whose consent they would require if the world was just. And he is not able to say anything. He is not allowed to say anything. No one is asking whether he consents to this or not.

McKay should be hard at work to fix this. He should be concentrating on cracking the system. But he cannot focus on anything other than Sheppard here. He looks devastated. His eyes are pleading for Caldwell to tell him that it isn't true, that there is something they can do. And even though Caldwell himself probably does not remember, one of the first things he had ever seen John Sheppard do was to look at him with the same eyes, begging him to tell him it was all a mistake, that everything was fine, was going to be alright.

If Sheppard and McKay think that Caldwell does not know, they are very much mistaken. You cannot watch these men and not know. But there is nothing that he can say to McKay now to make it better, any more than he had words to say to Sheppard then. His hands are just as bound as theirs are.

Continued in Pt. 13

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@professorlehnsherr-almashy @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @thealmightyemprex @meadow-mellow @mask131 @princesssarisa

"WHILE I THINK IT'S FAIR TO ASSUME THAT MOST MODERN AUDIENCES ASSOCIATE THIS STORY WITH THEMES OF SOCIAL JUSTICE AND PROGRESSIVE SOCIETAL CHANGE, THIS IS MORE A PRODUCT OF POP CULTURE ADAPTATIONS THAN OF THE BOOK ITSELF. 

(...)

THE NOVEL CONCERNS ITSELF VERY LITTLE WITH THE PLIGHT OF MARGINALIZED GROUPS AND HAS A MUCH DARKER, MORE CYNICAL TAKE ON SOCIETY AND HUMANITY AT LARGE.

(...)

ESMERALDA IS REUNITED WITH HER BIRTH MOTHER, WHO WAS ALSO A WAIFISH, TRAGIC, DRIVEN MAD BY HAVING LOST HER BABY. RIGHT BEFORE BOTH CHARACTERS DIE HORRIBLY. IN FACT, EVERYBODY DIES HORRIBLY EXCEPT FOR PHOEBUS, AND A NOT-SO-SUBTLE STAND IN CHARACTER FOR VICTOR HUGO, PIERRE GRINGOIRE, WHO WAS CUT FROM THE DISNEY MOVIE. HE IS A POET AND AT THE END OF THE NOVEL WHEN GIVEN THE CHOICE TO SAVE THE LIFE OF ESMERALDA OR THE GOAT, BUT NOT BOTH, HE SAVES THE GOAT. YEAH, THE GOAT LIVES, AND YES THE GOAT WAS CREATED BY VICTOR HUGO. NOT DISNEY. THE MAIN PLOT THAT TAKES UP MOST ADAPTATIONS THAT WE KNOW IS THE BACKGROUND NOISE TO HUGO'S MAIN POINT, WHICH CAN BE SUMMED UP WITH THE FOLLOWING EXCERPT: "OUR READERS MUST EXCUSE US IF WE STOP A MOMENT TO INVESTIGATE THE ENIGMATIC WORDS OF THE ARCHDEACON … THIS WILL KILL THAT. THE BOOK WILL KILL THE EDIFICE."

VICTOR HUGO'S BOOK WAS MAINLY CONCERNED WITH HOW THE PRINTED PRESS, AND SUBSEQUENTLY MASS LITERACY, WOULD KILL WHAT HE PERCEIVED AS THE ORIGINAL COMMON LANGUAGE: ARCHITECTURE. SO THE THEMES WE, THE MODERN AUDIENCE, HAVE COME TO ASSOCIATE WITH THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME, WHETHER EVERYONE LIVES AT THE END OR NOT, THESE WERE NOT THEMES THAT WERE NECESSARILY PRESENT IN THE ORIGINAL NOVEL. THE ORIGINAL NOVEL IS NOT TERRIBLY CONCERNED WITH THE PLIGHT OF THE MARGINALIZED OR THE ABUSED. VICTOR HUGO WAS SO UNCONCERNED WITH THE MAIN MELODRAMA WE KNOW, THAT WHEN THE ORIGINAL ENGLISH LANGUAGE TRANSLATOR FREDERIC SHOBERL SWITCHED THE TITLE FROM NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS TO THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME, ESSENTIALLY BECAUSE IT SOUNDED, I DON'T KNOW, MORE TANTALIZING TO ENGLISH-SPEAKING AUDIENCES, HUGO WAS NOTORIOUSLY PISSED OFF.SO THERE'S AN INTERESTING IRONY IN A BOOK THAT SAYS: "THIS WILL KILL THAT. THE BOOK WILL KILL THE EDIFICE",  ITS ORIGINAL MEANING AND INTENT WILL GET KILLED OFF BY... VISUAL MASS MEDIA.

(...)

IN 1939, HOLLYWOOD PRODUCER PANDRO S. BERMAN DEMANDED AN EXACT REMAKE OF THE LON CHANEY FILM, WILLIAM DIETERLE, ALREADY A SUCCESSFUL DIRECTOR IN HIS OWN RIGHT BEFORE FLEEING NAZI GERMANY, DELIVERED ON THIS FOR BERMAN. CHARLES LAUGHTON STARRED, DELIVERING A TRULY MEMORABLE PERFORMANCE AS QUASIMODO. AND AT LAUGHTON'S OWN BEHEST, THEY BROUGHT IN RELATIVE NEWCOMER MAUREEN O'HARA TO STAR AS ESMERALDA, WHO IN THIS VERSION IS NOT A STOLEN WHITE BABY, BUT ACTUALLY ROMANI.

SO, I'M NOT SURE WHERE THIS FALLS IN THE WHITEWASHING CONVERSATION, BUT THERE YOU GO … AND IT IS THIS VERSION MORE THAN ANY OTHER, INCLUDING THE ORIGINAL NOVEL, THAT DISNEY BORROWS FROM THE MOST. THERE IS ALSO A VERY SHARP HUMANIST LEAN INTO THE CONCEPT OF JUSTICE IN REGARD TO PEOPLE VERSUS BUILDINGS IN HISTORY. ESMERALDA IN THIS VERSION ISN'T JUST SOME INNOCENT HOTTIE WHO WANDERS IN THE MISFORTUNE BY PURE BAD LUCK. SHE LITERALLY BREAKS INTO THE CITY OF PARIS, WHERE THE ROMANI HAVE BEEN ACTIVELY BANNED FROM, TO PLEAD WITH THE KING OF FRANCE TO LET HER PEOPLE LIVE FREELY.

IT IS ALSO ONE OF THE RARE VERSIONS WHERE THE ROMANI ARE NOT DEMONIZED IN SOME WAY, SHAPE OR FORM ( STILL LOOKING AT YOU, DISNEY).

THE MOVIE IS CONSTANTLY REMINDING US THAT THE LIVES OF INNOCENT, PERSECUTED PEOPLE ARE AT STAKE.

THE ESMERALDA-QUASIMODO-FROLLO MELODRAMA THAT EVERYONE LOVES IS STILL IN THERE, SURE, BUT THERE IS AN ACTIVE UNDERCURRENT IN THIS MOVIE THAT TIES IN WITH BIGGER STRUGGLES THAT ISN'T JUST AN OLD BUILDING THAT HAS WEATHERED TIME.

THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME WAS THE ONLY FILM THAT WAS SCREENED IN CANNES THAT YEAR, A FILM FESTIVAL WHICH WAS ITSELF CREATED IN OPPOSITION TO THE FASCIST PRESENCE AT THE VENICE FILM FESTIVAL. SO, THAT A MOVIE THAT FEATURES THE ROMANI AS A PERSECUTED UNDERCLASS WHILE HITLER WAS GEARING UP TO SLAUGHTER HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF THEM, AT A FESTIVAL THAT WAS CREATED TO OPPOSE NAZISM, THERE'S SOMETHING INCREDIBLY POWERFUL IN THAT. SOMETHING THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HUGO'S ORIGINAL INTENT. SO WITH THE SUCCESS OF THIS MOVIE, AND IT WAS A HUGE SUCCESS, WE GAINED THE "JUSTICE FOR THE OPPRESSED" THEME, WHICH PLAYS VERY HEAVILY INTO THE DISNEY VERSION. SO IN A LOT OF WAYS, THIS ADAPTATION IS CERTAINLY THE MOST COHESIVE. AND IT IS TELLING THAT MANY FUTURE ADAPTATIONS TRY TO MIMIC THE ANTI-FASCIST THEMING. WHILE AT THE SAME TIME NOT ALWAYS GRASPING IT.

RIGHT OFF THE BAT, IT'S FALLACIOUS TO LOOK AT DISNEY'S THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME AS AN ADAPTATION OF THE ORIGINAL NOVEL, BECAUSE THAT READ IGNORES A WHOLE CENTURY AND A HALF OF FILMMAKERS RECONTEXTUALIZING THE STORY FOR EACH NEW GENERATION.

AGAIN, THE IDEA FOR THE DISNEY MOVIE DIDN'T COME FROM THE ORIGINAL NOVEL, BUT FROM A PICTURE BOOK ADAPTATION OF IT. AND EVEN IF THE ORIGINAL NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS WAS AS CLOSE TO PERFECTION AS THE EARLY NOVEL COULD GET, FILM IS JUST A DIFFERENT MEDIUM. IT'S A COMMON FALLACY THAT ADAPTATIONAL CHANGES HAPPEN BECAUSE GREEDY FILMMAKERS WANT TO BASTARDIZE AND WATER DOWN A BELOVED CREATION TO GET AS MANY BUTTS-IN-SEATS AS POSSIBLE. AND WELL, THAT IS SOMETIMES TRUE … BUT JUST AS OFTEN AS CHANGING THE STORY TO FIT A VISUALLY TEMPORALLY LOCKED MEDIUM. YES, SOMETIMES ADAPTATIONS ARE CHEAP CASH-INS …

BUT IT IS JUST INACCURATE TO ASSUME THAT ALL HOLLYWOOD ADAPTATIONS ARE, WHEN THERE ARE OFTEN TEAMS OF ARTISTS THAT CARE DEEPLY ABOUT MAKING THE BEST PRODUCT POSSIBLE, WHICH USUALLY MEANS CHANGING SOME STUFF. BUT MORE TO THE POINT, ASIDE FROM THE FACT THAT THE DISNEY MOVIE CHANGES THE ENDING IN A BIG WAY, AND THAT'S THE ASPECT THAT PEOPLE TEND TO FOCUS ON, WHAT DID IT REALLY CHANGE? RATHER, THE REAL QUESTION IS, WHAT VERSIONS DID DISNEY PULL FROM? BECAUSE THE REAL ORIGINALITY IS IN THE AESTHETICS, THE MUSIC, THE VISUALS. NOT SO MUCH THE STORY.

THAT FROLLO IS NO LONGER A PRIEST COMES FROM HUGO HIMSELF IN LA ESMERALDA. SAME WITH PHOEBUS BEING A GOOD GUY AND NOT EVERYBODY DYING. AND THAT THEME OF JUSTICE FOR THE OPPRESSED, WELL, WE CAN THANK CHARLES LAUGHTON AND A GERMAN FILMMAKER FLEEING THE NAZIS FOR THAT.

(...)

THERE'S ALWAYS A DESIRE TO TELL AND RETELL POPULAR STORIES. THIS IS HOW WE SHARE AND CREATE CULTURE. IN SOME WAYS THIS IS THE REASON WHY CULTURE EVEN EXISTS SO IT'S IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTAND, NOT JUST THAT STORY SOMETIMES CHANGE, BUT WHY. CHANGES TO NARRATIVES OVER TIME ARE INEVITABLE AND IN THE CASE OF NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS, IT'S BECAUSE SOMETIMES PROBLEMS ACTUALLY DO GET ADDRESSED. HISTORICAL PRESERVATION WASN'T REALLY A THING IN THE 1830S, ESPECIALLY IN FRANCE. BUT NOW IT'S HARD TO IMAGINE A FRANCE WHERE HISTORICAL PRESERVATION ISN'T A HUGE PRIORITY, AND A LOT OF THAT IS THANKS TO VICTOR HUGO. 

WE CAN'T STEP INTO THE REALITY WHERE HUGO NEVER EXISTED, SO WE WILL NEVER KNOW. BUT IT IS FAIR TO SAY THAT IF NOT FOR THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME, NOTRE-DAME CATHEDRAL MIGHT NOT EVEN BE THERE TODAY, OR AT LEAST IT WOULD STILL BE PRETTY BUSTED. BUT WE LIVE IN A WORLD NOW, IN EUROPE ANYWAY, WHERE HUGO'S PRIMARY CONCERN WAS SOLVED. SO IF THIS STORY IS GOING TO STICK AROUND, IT NEEDS A NEW CONCERN. A MORE HUMANIST ONE. HUGO'S WRITING CHANGED PRIORITIES AS THE PRIORITIES OF THE TIME HE WAS LIVING IN CHANGED. AND I THINK THAT SHIFT IN PERSPECTIVE IS NO BETTER ILLUSTRATED THAN IN HUGO'S OTHER GREAT WORK, LES MISERABLES. WHICH TAKES A WILDLY DIFFERENT ATTITUDE ON THE VALUE OF HUMAN LIFE. LES MIS'S THEME IS THAT INDIVIDUAL LIVES, THOUGH CRUSHED BY AN UNJUST SYSTEM, DO MATTER, AND THE CHOICES OF INDIVIDUALS DO AFFECT HISTORY. JUST LOOK AT THE KINDLY BISHOP WHO DIDN'T TURN IN JEAN VALJEAN AT THE BEGINNING OF THE NOVEL, AND GAVE HIM A SECOND CHANCE. AND HOW JOHN VALJEAN USES THAT SECOND CHANCE TO BETTER THE LIVES OF OTHERS.

THIS IS A PRIMARY THEME OF LES MIS: HUMAN GOODNESS OVERCOMING UNJUST SYSTEMS SO NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS GETS THIS SORT OF MAKEOVER WHERE IT'S SORT OF MAKING THE SAME POINT AS LES MIS. JUSTICE FOR THE OPPRESSED.

TRUE MONSTROUSNESS IS NOT A REFLECTION OF HOW SOCIETY SEES YOU OR WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE. AND INHUMANLY STRONG PROTAGONISTS. HUGO IS A BIG FAN OF THOSE. 

IF YOU WANT TO DECRY THE DISNEY MOVIE FOR THE CHANGES THEY MADE TO MAKE IT KID-FRIENDLY, WELL, THAT'S FINE. BUT IF ONE CALLS OUT THE HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE IT BLUNTS THE ORIGINAL MISANTHROPIC TONE OF THE NOVEL, BUT DOESN'T CALL OUT THE ANTI-INEQUALITY OR SOCIAL JUSTICE ASPECTS … 

WELL, IT'S NOT ONLY MISSING THE FOREST FOR THE TREES, BUT IT'S ALSO A RATHER SHALLOW READING AND OMITS BASICALLY ALL OF THE CONTEXT IN HISTORY.

AND YEAH, PART OF THAT IS JUST DISNEY BEING DISNEY, BUT PART OF THAT IS WHAT WE NEED NOW. LIKE HUGO MAKING A POINT ABOUT THE HISTORICAL IMPORTANCE OF THE BUILDING WAS WHAT WE NEEDED IN THE 1830S. QUASIMODO HAS GONE FROM PITIABLE WRETCH AND TOOL OF THE SYSTEM TO A MOVIE MONSTER, AND THEN BACK TO PITIABLE RETCH BUT NICER THIS TIME, AND THEN ALL THE WAY TO HERO OF HIS OWN STORY. IT'S ALSO NOTEWORTHY HOW REALLY THE DISNEY VERSION IS THE ONLY VERSION THAT EXPLORES HOW ABUSIVE AND WEIRD QUASIMODO'S RELATIONSHIP WITH FROLLO IS, AND HAS HIM OVERCOMING IT. AND IT REALLY IS REMARKABLE THAT DISNEY HAD A PROTAGONIST WITH A LEGIT PHYSICAL DEFORMITY. AND I DON'T MEAN LIKE BEASTLY DEFORMITY. BUT IN A LOT OF WAYS, DISNEY'S HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME WAS AHEAD OF ITS TIME. IT'S STILL A HOT MESS. YET IT'S STILL A CUT ABOVE WHAT PEOPLE GIVE IT CREDIT FOR AND I THINK IT WOULD BE MORE APPRECIATED IF IT CAME OUT TODAY. BECAUSE WE NEED STORIES LIKE THIS TODAY. FASCI ABUSIVE FROLLO, JUSTICE FOR THE OPPRESSED, THE FOCUS ON HOW SOME MEN REALLY DO LOATHE THE OBJECTS OF THEIR DESIRE, THE WHOLESALE DEMONIZATION OF ETHNIC GROUPS.

MAYBE THIS MOVIE WASN'T REALLY APPRECIATED IN ITS TIME BECAUSE IT DIDN'T RESONATE AS MUCH IN 1996. BUT IT DOES RESONATE MORE IN 2017. SO IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT IN A WHILE, GIVE IT A WATCH. AND WATCH IT IN DOLBY 5.1 HD IF YOU CAN. ENJOY THE SWEEPING VISTAS, THE REVOLUTIONARY CGI, ALAN MENKEN'S BEST SCORE FOR A DISNEY MOVIE - THAT'S RIGHT, I SAID IT, DON'T AT ME - AND CONSIDER THAT HOKEY THOUGH IT MAY BE AT POINTS, LIKE HUGO'S MESSAGE ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF ARCHITECTURE IN THE 1830S, THIS MIGHT BE WHAT WE NEED IN OUR TIME. MOST OF IT."

(LINDSAY ELLIS: THE CASE FOR DISNEY'S THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME)

[gingermintpepper]

Brother II

“Artie,” he says, and he’s got that sparkle in his eye that means she ought to start picking out hunting wolves from the twenty-three hundred that roam their island, “I have a date.”  He’s in satin and goat-skin today, hair done up in little jewelled cuffs and smelling like the belladonna that only grows in central valley.  There’s no violet in his hair,  no rose, no poplar, no heliotrope Just laurel. Plain, dead laurel bound tight on myrtle branch and more telling than she ought to be. He’s smiling too - or at least he was up until she let the space between her response settle its weight on his shoulders, a boulder as Sisyphean as the conversation they’re about to have Because it’s always the same with him no matter how many times she tells him to cut his losses and just take a vow.

Instead of the berating she has cocked and loaded behind the bow of her lips, their mother’s voice cuts in an arrow all its own,  “That’s wonderful, Phoebus! Who's the lucky youth?”  But Apollo doesn’t take the bait, gold eyes dissecting when he catches her gaze The question he never gets a chance to ask burning through her like fire in her veins long after their mother takes his hand and leads him away so she can humour his insanity.

Extracts from the Greenhouse Floor.

[heartsandmarketplaces]

Blood, the Blood of Grapes

Fandom: Percy Jackson | Rating: Teen Characters: Pollux; Caz (Castor); OC daughter of Dionysus; Lee Fletcher; Will Solace

Summary: The maenads, the raving-ones, the noise-makers. They had always loved the Children of Dionysus. Sometimes his children loved them back. (The youngest member of Cabin 12 is called like a fey to the revels in the wood)

CW: minor threat of cannibalism; blood imagery

A/N: Agatha is 11 here. Caz and Pollux are Scottish

Theo had been at camp three months before she dared to ask about the music. 

It was faint at first, lone notes snatched on the winds gone the moment she stood still to listen. 

She went to bed with it in her ears, rose with it on her tongue. It papered her skin with gooseflesh.

Then came cymbals. In the rustle of leaves, the salt-brine waves, the knives and forks at dinner. 

At night she heard laughter. The other cabins perhaps. But when she pressed her nose against the cold glass of her window it was only dark. The stars above swilled wine-drunk and gold. 

It grew louder. Like feet under the hills, like the thud of swords against leather, like the thump-beat-thump of her own heart.  

She rose early, one morning, mouth metallic, jaw aching for the taste of strawberries and found the satyr cross-hoofed cradling Pan’s reeds to his lips. He winked, a wild eye, and she swallowed his tune down her gullet.  

After that it never left her; sweet and strange, it poured through camp thick like syrup. She found it on her plate curled round her cup, felt it in the soil and the worm-dark dirt, heard it in the amphitheatre in the argument of voices, saw it in the long twigged hands of the tree-people as they waved to her, the pipes the cymbals the drums. 

The question fell like baby teeth as she climbed into bed. 

Pollux grinned lopsidedly as he tucked Bunny into her blankets. ‘What music?’ 

‘The pipes. The drums.’ She shook her head, ‘They chant, why do they always chant?’ 

The twins exchanged a look, one of their silent conversations she cannot read. 

‘Faun-song,’ said Caz softly, ‘Da’s followers. Don’t worry’ 

They double checked the latches on the windows that night, tested the lock on the door.

She didn’t tell them that she wasn’t afraid. 

The chanting swelled louder, the pipes never stopped. It was not enough. The pipes were not enough, the drums were not enough. The cymbals of the sea and the bearded bleats of goats were not enough. She started humming it, needed to feel it inside her, in her mouth, in the glut of her stomach, greedy, greedy, she hummed. 

It was not enough. Her fingers hurt, her chest hurt, her ears hurt. Like it was a noise that could not be contained, condemned, to be still. She wanted to dance. Wanted to stomp her feet like the music halls of her childhood when she was young enough to twirl her skirts and spin. 

At the firepit she grew restless. The flames were high, Phoebus’ children bright, summer was coming and everyone crowed and still it was not enough. Sedate. Quiet. 

She wanted to dance. Wanted to move, wanted to tear her hair and shout MORE MORE MORE. 

May’s nights were long and warm. She dreamt of bull horns and absinthe and grinning green masks. She woke with the smell of fennel. 

It surprised her, in the end, how long it took her to go to the Forest. But Caz and Pollux had said it was out-of-bounds, told of monsters. She had promised never to go in. 

But that was before the music. 

Theo was supposed to be doing chores. A Saturday, no classes. Just polishing her leather breast-plate before Greek with Caz. She was not even supposed to be there but she’d tried for a half-remembered shortcut, misremembered, twice-remembered. She did not remember. Because here at the greenwood edge, the music came. 

Her head tilted, as if she might see into the leafgloom better. Her armour trailed on the ground. There was laughter, spilling like a drink, frothed and loud and merry. It reminded her of the after-show parties back home. Sequined girls still in their costumes, men handsome and moustached. 

It took her a while to see the woman. Greenskinned and tall, taller than Pollux even. Ivy trailed from her hair, her wrists, her dress was fawn skin. 

‘My child.’ Her voice is the best of honey. It stuck Theo’s tongue to her mouth. She swallowed, drily. 

‘The music...’

‘Ah.’ The lady smiled, a heady thing, ‘You like to dance?’ 

Theo nodded. 

She held out her hands, a coy tilt of the chin. ‘Come. Join us.’

‘I - I can’t.’  Theo had made a promise to the twins. The forest was dangerous. (But the music, how could it be with the music?) The pipes the cymbals the drums were loud.

She had taken a step before she realised it. 

‘Come,’ the lady lulled, ‘come ye child. Taste and see. We will not harm you.’ Her voice was the voice of many. The voice of pipes.

Theo took her hand. They ran. 

A whoop. A holler. A cheer. The woods raised up, loud and braying, the sound of a crowd. 

‘Evohé. Evohé’

It was a prayer, a hymn. The clap of hands, the stomp of feet. A hundred figures ran, a hundred figures writhed. Tree-men and women of holly and fir, satyrs with rolling eyes and naked legs, red berry creatures with horns and tails, leopard folk and boys with the heads of panthers that lapped the milk from the wet dew grass. 

The trees poured wine, the flowers dripped with honey. The air smelled of tanned hide and incense, sounded of cymbals and drums and flutes.

They kicked their heels, they keened their throats. And when they saw her, when a hundred eyes looked and saw, they cheered. 

A garland was summoned, ivy and vine leaves, wound in a crown, pressed to her head. her hands were taken, pulled into the crowd, she span, she twirled. She danced like she had not danced for years, back when her mother was alive, when the brass bands played what she asked, when life was smoke and powder and brandy.

‘Sister.’ They cried. ‘Priestess.’ 

Theo’s grin was wicked. ‘We dance.’ She said. She compelled. And they did.

The pipes the cymbals the drums the feet the cheer of a crowd that loved her. They laid flowers at her feet, tossed ivy to the ground, and when she threw back her head and howled they howled with her. 

She wanted more. Needed more.

‘Evohé,’ they cried, ‘daughter of Ours, where do we go?’ 

To the mountains, the mountains. Called the chorus. To the woods. 

Theo pointed, there was a staff in her hand, pinecone tipped and sharp. Onwards, deeper, deeper. They followed, the crowd of frenzy, the men and women who raved.

Their song was the rage of animals, the tears of sap, the blood of grapes.

Blessed are the dancers of the dance of god

A goblet was pushed to her lips, blazed gold and gleaming, and she drank deep and long. Rubbed a hand from her mouth, speared liquid across her cheeks. They cheered. Theo flushed, hot and thirsty and threw the cup to the ground. Where it struck, the earth bled wine.

‘Sister. Daughter of the god of joy.’ 

Daughter of the god of noise

She howled, they howled, the woods howled. They were hers now. Tree and stone and root. 

That was why she noticed the fault. The crack, the break, the wrong-quiet note in the good-loud noise.

A spy upon god’s possessed

‘Stranger! Spy! Watcher in the Woods!’

For doom for deed. Smite til the throat shall bleed

‘Feast’ Someone called. ‘Beast. Lion. Spy.’  

Their lips foamed, their eyes leapt like fire. Their hands tore at roots, at flesh.

‘Bring them. Find them. Rip them. Lionspy.’

Theo’s head spun, her stomach ached.

‘Eat it drink it suck the marrow dry. Yes. Yes. Feast until they die.’ A shout. A whoop. A holler.

A Scream.

Part two --

(Part of a larger story universe) | ao3 link

[hyakinthou-naos]

Hyakíntha Ritual: The Heortē

1. Ceremonial Garments

As we celebrate the resurrection of Prince Hyacinthus, we adorn ourselves in clothing that reflects our joy and celebration. Jewelry and adornments that honor Prince Hyacinthus and Lord Apollo are worn in abundance as an outward symbol of our joy. Warm shades of oranges, yellows, and whites remind us of the God of Prophecy - and cooler shades of greens and purples remind us of the Spartan Prince.

2. Khernips & Purification

Following the days events, we don our garments and parade to The Temple. We reach the steps and ramps of The Temple's entrance, both adorned with hyacinths, sunflowers, lavender, and larkspur. The Temple's doors are opened wide, music playing from within

The entrance chamber holds a bowl of water where flaming leaves of bay and laurel have been extinguished. The water splashes as we joyfully wash our hands in the lustral water, cleansing ourselves before we enter The Temple's center.

3. Gathering at the Altar

We proceed into The Temple's center; the music still playing softly as we enter. The altar is positioned in the center of the room, behind which stands the Temple's Steward - dressed in robes of purple. Chairs and pillows for seating are arranged in a semi-circle in front of the altar.

We take our seats

4. Opening Prayer & Deity Invocation

We settle into our chosen seats, as the music and conversations slowly fade away. The Steward stands behind the altar and lights the center candle, and speaks:

Hestia, great goddess of the ancients - Daughter of the Titans Cronus and Rhea - She who is honored before all others. We gather here today and ask that you accept this flame, as a humble offering to you. Hestia, goddess of hearth and home Lead our way, and light our path.

The Steward then moves to light the second candle, and raises their arms to the heavens, saying:

Lord Apollo, shinning god of light and prophecy Son of Lord Zeus and Lady Lêta Lover of Hyacinthus, for whom we celebrate today O bright and shining Lord, we ask that you accept this flame and grace us with your presence. We call upon you today, great god of music and healing, to bare witness to our ritual - as we celebrate the return of your love, the beautiful Hyacinthus, Prince of Sparta. May Lord Hermes carry these words from our lips, to your ears, on mighty Mount Olympus. Du et des, we give so you may give.

Lastly, the Steward moves to light the third candle and the ceremonial incense, and raises their arms to the heavens, saying:

O Hyacinthus, noble prince of Sparta, Son of Amyclas and Diomede, brother of Polyboia Beloved of Apollo, the divine son of Zeus O strong yet gentle Prince, we ask that you accept these offerings of flame and incense - and be with us today We call upon you, radiant prince of blooming flowers, to bear witness to our ritual - as we celebrate your return into the arms of your beloved. May Lord Hermes carry these words from our lips, to your ears, in the heavens where you live forever more.

5. Hymns & Music

As the Steward concludes their prayer, they open a book sat behind the altar - The Temple's book of hymns. The pages turn as the Hytheria settles on a passage, and begins to read:

A Hymn for Hyacinthus [Altered Version]

Oh to the lover of our Lord We see you in every shade of lavender We feel you in every warm spring breeze We understand you every time lovers look into each others eyes. How did he look - the Lord of the Muses - When you ran your fingers through his hair? How did it feel? To touch the sun To feel its warmth Oh how we envy you Oh how we honor you Oh how we rejoice in you Oh lover of our Lord

We Are For You; a Hymn to Lord Apollo [Altered Version]

Lord Phoebus He who shines light into our darkness, He who brings music to our souls. Who would we be without your graces? Who would we be without your love? Oh sweet Lord of all we hold dear - You have been with us - all the days of our lives Waiting patiently for our devotion. And we are here- Knees bent, Eyes closed, Heart open. We are for you, Lord Apollo - We are for you.

The Steward finishes his reading, placing the book back from whence it came, and arranges for the music to begin. Before starting the music, the Steward speaks:

I invite you all to listen to this music, and think of Lord Apollo, and Prince Hyacinthus. Think of how their love, though interrupted by fate, is everlasting. Think of how their dedication to each other is not diminished by their loving of others. Love is boundless, it is joy and lust and adventure - but it is also work and struggle and pain. All that is, is imperfect, even the Gods. Love is imperfection; love exists in multitudes; love is the power we feel here today.

While today we celebrate romantic love, platonic love is just as powerful - and love need not be romantic to be worth the effort.

I invite you all, in the center of this room or from the seats which you have chosen, to dance and be joyful. For today we celebrate love - in all its many forms.

Music begins to play, and the Steward joins the congregation in a dance of youthful joy.

6. Libations

As the music concludes, and the dancers return to their seats, the Steward places a large ceremonial bowl in the center of the participants. The Steward then returns with glasses filled with liquid, giving one to each of those in attendance. The Steward stands in front of the altar and speaks:

In honor and reverence of the ancient ways, we hold before us a libation of milk and water. As we pour these libations, we offer them to Prince Hyacinthus, and Lord Apollo. They who bring us joyous spring, they who show us unending love, they who hold our hands through sorrow - we offer this to them.

We all pour our libations into the center bowl, the liquids swirl and splash, as they all come together as one in the bowl's center.

7. Divination

[Ritual attendees/participants are encouraged to engage in their own personal divination with Prince Hyacinthus and/or Lord Apollo at this time.]

8. Closing Prayers

As the pouring of the libations concludes, the Steward returns to behind the altar. The Steward takes a moment to pause, before speaking:

With joy and laughter, with awe and amazement We conclude this evening rite We give thanks to radiant Lord Apollo, God of music and medicine And his beloved, Prince Hyacinthus, whose beauty and spirit are once again alive Lord Apollo, glorious archer, we thank you for your guiding light, For the wisdom and strength you gift to us, And for the music that stirs our hearts May you continue to inspire and protect us We give thanks to Prince Hyacinthus, he who is noble and pure We honor your return and celebrate you ascension to the heavens Your life, a testament to beauty - a beacon in the darkness, a refuge in the storm May your story echo within us, Reminding us of fleeting life and eternal love

The Steward raises their arms to the heavens, and once again speaks:

May the blessings of Apollo and Hyacinthus Guide us our paths, fill our hearts with joy, And guide us in harmony and peace.

The Steward lowers their arms and extinguishes the second candle, before speaking for a final time:

Hestia, first -

The Steward blows out the center candle.

- and last

And with that, the ritual is concluded.

[madwomanxx]

Selene and Helios in my modern au 💜

They deserve appreciation too!

Me yapping about them and design choices for way too long 👇

All based on my headcanons, readings and some myths this is NOT a source of information

It's purely my personal world with its own magic system and original characters

Helios

Design :

I wanted him and Apollo to look different, it was easy style wise, both have very different taste and personality

Colors on the other hand, I started facing a challenge, I made Apollo primarily orange, black, some red and ofc lots of gold, all are inspired by the sun god aspect Phoebus, so what does that leave me with Helios? Who's the personification of the sun, I can't ignore those colors!

That's when it hit me, oceans

LEMME EXPLAIN

His home/palace is in the river Oceanus ( source : theoi, it's very good for quick infos on the gods, you won't find everything there but more in depth reading is not possible, I'm a college student lol!)

His wife is also Perseis an ocean nymph and daughter of the titan Oceanus

So, I decided to make his color palette and clothes beach inspired!

I think it really helps make him look very different from my Apollo : )

Don't ask what those shoes are, it's an attempt at drawing sandals I saw on Pinterest, I suck at drawing feet and shoes I tried 😭!

His hair I went for a sun ray shape

I tried to color his hair in a way that resembles the sun's flames, I'm not that great at coloring but I think I achieved a noticeable effect when he's next to my other god designs

The matching earring is supposed to represent the 3 siblings, moon Selene, sun Helios, dawn Eos, naturally they all share it!

The sun earring is also matching between Helios and Apollo ( I don't currently have a drawing of Apollo wearing it atm, that ear hasn't been drawn XD) I have them in a sort of mentor relationship

The eyebrow earring is just me being random-

The sun flowers on his pants is because one of his lovers turned to one ( he didn't turn her btw) it's a very fun and somewhat sad myth, I recommend reading it, Helios appears very peaceful in it?? JUST READ IT TRUST ME

Also yes, I did give him a tooth gap, yes he looks shorter than Selene

Personality:

The more I read about Helios, and the dialogue of the gods ( I spent days looking for the full thing because unfortunately not all of it is on theoi, I can happily say I succeeded 😎)

I gathered few things, one) his wrath and punishments are towards people he doesn't really know and are very mmm silly?? And are just turning people into animals with the exception of Odysseus

2 of the wrath myths we don't know why he was angry, and a Roman one he turned a huntress into a doe just because she compared the stag she was chasing to Helios in speed... Yeah it's really silly

On the other hand, a Roman myth you have Clytie, who was so jealous that Helios got together with Leucothoe, she spread rumors about her and got the poor girl killed, surprisingly to me, Helios didn't do anything to her, didn't even talk to her, he was deeply sad and just... Left her completely, she kept gazing at the sun not drinking or eating until she slowly transformed into the sunflower ( after I finished drawing I saw some say it's a heliotrope instead?? too late to fix that now lol, I know very little about flowers)

You can definitely say leaving her was the punishment, I mean it's certainly effective, but it's still weirdly civil of him to do

In the dialogue of the gods he has a conversation with Hermes where he has no issue talking badly about Zeus for requesting he makes the night last longer ( might post the full conversation since it isn't on theoi)

There are goofy fables too with Helios

In conclusion : I write Helios as a somewhat relaxed , funny god and a little reckless ( dialogue of the gods+ letting his son drive the chariot)

.. Finally why did I choose to give him a tooth gap and make him shorter? WELL.... to be real with you this is an inside joke between me and my best friend, I was listening to Hadestown, my favorite song how long?

One of the comments pointed out the line: how does the sun even fit in the sky?

And asked if they're fat shaming Helios- I can't explain to you why that comment made me laugh, legit can't

I ofc told my friend, then she started joking about Sol ( Roman god equivalent of Helios) sounding too cute

Thus was born, the joke that Helios is gigantic ( like the sun) but purposefully makes himself look smaller, why? Idk he just does and it's funny when he suddenly becomes big in all his glory ( if I were to design him in ancient times I'd probably do something too similar to @ kyleesarthell on tumblr, so I probably won't do that)

Selene

Design :

I wanted white to pop a lot in her design, I didn't want to go for a night or stars motif ( those I wanted to save for a Nyx design)

For that to happen I needed the majority colors to be on the darker side, I decided to go with dark blue ( saving purple for Nyx) and black

I tried at first to match descriptions of her cheeks and skin in general being blinding white and darker clothes, it didn't really work that well to me, I didn't feel like it shined enough, there was too much of it and the black clothes seemed to grab my eyes more

So I reversed it, I love how they worked here!

I wanted the hair to be relatively straight, I made the hair black and white shines underneath, trying to capture the dark moon dark reflecting the light differently for various shapes

Her eyes are described as black so I went with that ( even more differences from Artemis)

I gave her a jacket because she's sometimes said to wear a shining cloak, this is my way to modernize it a bit

Made her accessories gold not silver because, it fits more with this color palette, silver just wouldn't pop and it works towards my goal of making her and Artemis look different

Her crown is said to be a crescent moon that looks like bull horns, she's associated a lot with bulls and even some say she rides on them ( others say white horses) it's very cool so in my world it's white bulls!!

The gem is supposed to be the Moonstone, some say she wears it, I tried my best

Personality:

I noticed she seems to be bitter, specifically about her love life, a lot of texts she's bitter and talking about how you ( a woman like Medea) now will suffer in love like she does, and just I urge everyone to read those texts because it definitely shocked my previous image of her, this behavior is very frequent and she sure as hell doesn't seem happy with her lover being asleep imo

A surprising amount of texts focus on her love for Endymion, I didn't think it was this major to her, I'll definitely need to read up more on this myth because I'm starting to think him sleeping forever isn't her choice or at least she resents it???

She seems to have a hate love relationship with both Aphrodite and Medea

Aphrodite is definitely more complex ( based on the dialogue of the gods it seemed positive or civil unlike the other text of her mocking Aphrodite in glee while talking to Harmonia, very fascinating text! )

With Medea it seems more hate than love but she did send light at her wedding so... Idk

There's a whole section on theoi about some witches folklore regarding Selene, gist of it witches of Thessalian draw on Selene causing the lunar eclipse/ blood moon by extracting her blood, there's a text with quite the disturbing/sad text describing this, like damn I'd be bitter too if I were her tbh

She's not only bitter in my world btw, she's just the more reserved one is all

Helios is the older brother, he's more goofy and somewhat relaxed

She's the younger sister, more mature and holds grudges more, she can still have fun with her brother at times though and be very sweet to those she loves ( little too obsessive you could say)

Apollo and Artemis are a bit reversed

Artemis is the older one but she's very reactive and emotional, she's generally fun and only appears somewhat cold to mortals she doesn't know, even then it's not exactly cold as much as you can feel that she'll murder you for the slightest hint of disrespect!

Apollo is harder to fully describe but for the sake of this post, he's more mature and calm at times, his revenge is more calculated to maximize the pain ( Achilles is a whole example to me in this) he can have fun too though and is gentle!

[pines-troz]

A Fascinating Contrast Between Quasimodo and Frollo.

One of my favorite things about The Hunchback of Notre Dame is how it highlights the contrast between Quasimodo and Frollo regarding their actions, how they see the world, and how they see themselves. So I can't help but wonder if the staging of these two scenes is intentional regarding location and how the characters approach other living beings as a way to emphasize their personalities and goals.

When Quasimodo is first introduced, we see him on the balcony of Notre Dame encouraging a baby bird to fly. Quasi is notably very friendly and sweet to the bird, and when the bird is apprehensive, Quasi brings up the Festival of Fools to convince the bird to keep trying. When the baby bird wants to join the rest of the flock Quasi smiles with approval, gives the bird a gentle pat, and helps it take off. Quasi's smile shifts into a sorrowful frown as he longs to be part of the city he loves. It's pretty telling when Quasi tells the bird "no one wants to be cooped up here forever", he's also referring to himself and his desire to go out there.

Later on, when Frollo is conversing with Phoebus on the balcony of the Palace of Justice about his "war" on the Romani, the judge compares them to ants and mercilessly squishes three of them. When further illustrates his plans for genocide by lifting up the stone to crush the colony of ants. It's a chilling display of Frollo's bigotry.

Overall, these two scenes present a solid contrast between the hero and villain. Frollo harbors hatred and racism while Quasimodo is gentle, kindhearted, and sees beauty in everyday life.

[mydarlingdearestdead]

The Things We Do For Love- Chapter Six

"Father."

Apollo bowed his head in such a manner as to render his crown of golden curls level with his father's sandals. Zeus smiled, gloating as if respect factored into the equation. Although, that is not to imply that he did not understand the ultimate truth. That, of course, in a civilised society fear must rule all. His throne, erected upon a raised platform, was of plain, white marble. His wife's, in direct contrast, was simple oak.

"Stand up straight." Zeus commanded, slitted eyes warily upon his son. Apollo did as commanded. His eyes flitted to Zeus'. The tasteful, storm-ridden blue was unflinching under Apollo’s golden scrutiny.

Hera's gaze, of course, laid not upon either of them, but rather upon her finger nails, those which she admired. A deep, vinous purple she had commanded for this day in preparation of Dionysus' garden party that very evening- An annual event, the highlight of the century.

Zeus' lips split in a wide, malicious smile.

"My dearest son," He drawled, "What brings you here before me on this fine day?"

On the mortal plane, lightning congregated within grey clouds, rain lashed upon rough-hewn dirt roads and thunder reached the ears of those with the sense to cower in the shadows.

Apollo swung his lyre from his back, plucking several hesitant notes before he spoke.

"Father," He began, a melodic lilt to his practised tone, "I wish to bring a case before the council of Olympus."

Zeus' laughter was akin to thunder rolling beyond the hills.

"Has someone been stealing your laurel leaves?" Zeus jested, "Or dismissing your cows as they sleep? Hardly council matters. You are dismiss-"

"The case of Hyacinth." Apollo's words drew the breath from Zeus' chest in a horrid gasp. He continued, "I wish to rescue my love from the depths of Hades."

Now, Hera rose her head, two-toned eyes sparkling like jewels.

Apollo’s practised melody became sweet and soft. A song fit for Queens.

"Oh..." She purred, "Oh, my dear-" She directed her musings to her husband, pouting, "-You must. You simply must."

"Hera, but-"

"No." She cut him off, smiling, sweet as nectar, "No, dear. You will take this case or I may bring that of that pretty little nymph of yours before them."

Zeus, lips set in a line of marble, bore down upon Apollo, "You may have what you seek." He grumbled.

Hera, if I may be so blunt, simply beamed.

Apollo, upon taking his leave, sought Eros’ company. In the palace of Love, they convened. Apollo reclined upon a settee, dusted faintly with Aphrodite’s perfume, as he spoke, “Archery practice must be postponed, I fear… I have another request for you, however. If you will humour me in my unease.”

Eros’ eyes flashed.

“Go on. Don’t leave me in suspense.” She laughed, “Anything for you, Phoebus.”

Apollo unslung his lyre once more. He plucked aimlessly at the strings for a moment though, almost instantly, he returned to the same melody; The fates prophecy fulfilled; Hyacinth’s song of sadness.

“Please,” He pleaded, “Refrain from calling me that.”

“Why?” Eros’ demanded, “You’re definitely bright.”

Apollo dismissed the futile conversation. He returned swiftly to the topic at hand.

“Eros.” He said, “I require your aid within the confines of the trial. Please, my friend, you must offer testimony to Hyacinth’s character and my... sheer adoration of him.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Eros inquired, anxiously picking at his nail-beds.

As he spoke, Apollo strummed with an insistence unheard of, commanding the strings of his lyre as a king commands his subjects. “I am blinded by love. Any old fool can see that. The council- Hades and Hebe included- will not believe my rose-tinted view for a moment.”

Shamefully, Eros met his eye.

“Mama-”

“I don’t want to hear about Aphrodite, Eros!”

Apollo’s patent melody disappeared. He flung his lyre against the nearest wall in a flurry of desperation. It collided with a horrific twang, descending to lay in a congregation of unattractive fragments on the pink-tinted marble below. Apollo had risen during the chaos. He swiftly moved toward the balcony, where he bent over the ivy-ridden barrier.

On silent wings, Eros approached him.

"Tell me about him." He requested, "I... Hearing love stories restores my faith in the purpose I've been given… And it might help me make up my mind about… Well, everything.”

Apollo's eyes flickered closed. He turned eagerly toward the sun. Despite it's rapid descent, the sunlight showered his face in a golden shroud.

"Hyacinth..." With such reverence he spoke the name.

Mourning, as every bereaved must understand, is not an imperceptible stone in the walk of life, but a detour, branching off into the deep, dark unknown. Apollo crawled aimlessly along this new path, clutching his chest where the aching of his heart teetered on the edge of unbearable.

"He was good." A simple statement to the ear, yet concealing a meaning only decipherable by the beating heart of a man resentful.

"And so innocent." Apollo opened his eyes, gazing with with silent lament upon the moon.

Eros swallowed. Truly, he had not the ability to deny him. Fear or pity, it was of no true consequence.

Masterlist

Ao3

[muttering-folklore]

all of frollo’s relationships and how they inevitably crumble link back to control actually. forgive me if this is obvious information idk let me ramble

his relationship with his brother jehan crumbled because he couldn’t control his behaviour and mould him to be similar to him (pious, religious etc) and he was unable to make amends with him because the next time he met up with jehan after he was expelled from the cathedral was when jehan was on his deathbed when he gave quasimodo over to frollo.

AAAND his poor relationship with jehan impacted how he treated quasimodo because his grip on quasimodo was incredibly tight and controlling. he literally controlled everything that quasimodo experienced (what he learnt, what he wore, what he ate, the conversations they had). he basically treated quasimodo like a do-over of his relationship with jehan. he literally sings “teach him to think like me,” he’s trying to do what he couldn’t do with his brother with his nephew

and he only begins to hate phoebus after he refuses to burn down a brothel on the suspicion that esmeralda might be inside. he literally refers to him as the “gypsy’s pawn” and then later stabs him, all because phoebus is no longer at his disposal and can’t be used in his plan to raze the city to find esmeralda

[wren-kitchens]

you’re the reason

903 words

he came just before dawn, and i found myself wondering just how many would visit before we were to leave. i would not have woken, but the flash of blinding light that illuminated the room upon his arrival had roused me enough to hear their conversation, though i did not open my eyes nor speak to make my awareness known. the god of prophecy undoubtedly knew i was listening, and did not care, but i did not wish to worry achillies. i could feel achilles move from my side, and heard him speak softly, as if not to wake me. "lord apollo."

i've been rereading tsoa and man i just want them to be happy

so. what if they were?

he came just before dawn, and i found myself wondering just how many would visit before we were to leave. i would not have woken, but the flash of blinding light that illuminated the room upon his arrival had roused me enough to hear their conversation, though i did not open my eyes nor speak to make my awareness known. the god of prophecy undoubtedly knew i was listening, and did not care, but i did not wish to worry achillies.

i could feel achilles move from my side, and heard him speak softly, as if not to wake me. "lord apollo."

"you know half of the prophecy, yes?" apollo's voice was akin to the lyre—to how achilles would play my mother's golden-tipped instrument as if he were born to do nothing else. 

"my mother has told me that i am to die." achilles said, and i heard the fear buried beneath his smooth tone. "and that i am to kill hector, if i go."

"that is half." apollo said, almost amused. i supposed it would be amusing to him that achilles did not know the whole story. i could not think what else there could be, nor why the phoebus apollo had deigned it so necessary to inform achilles of what was left. "what she does not know, is that your death will not be first."

a beat. "i am certain many good soldiers will die before-"

"your companion." apollo said, and i felt the blood had turn to ice in my veins. i tried to keep my breathing steady, as to not worry achillies, but my mind was spinning with a thousand thoughts—the most prevalent: at least i would not have to live without him. "by hector's hands, no less. if you go."

i could hear achilles' own breath become irregular, and i wished to take his hand and promise- what? that i would not die? i had never been a strong fighter to begin with, and if hector would only be slain by achilles' weapon, i stood no chance alone. "patroclus.. will die?"

"if you go." apollo said once more, and i realised the reason he was here; he did not want hector to die. just as odysseus was backed by athena, hector had apollo. "you may stay, however—but know that your life will lead only to mediocrity. your name will not be sung by bards, nor will any generations know of your feats."

i did not know what i wanted him to choose. i did not want to die, much less want him to die, but he had so often dreamt of a hero's life that i could not imagine him settling for anything less. his voice rang in my head, "they never let you be famous and happy." it seemed this was truer than it felt under the olive tree, barely a few days ago. it felt like an eternity to me.

"i cannot lose patroclus." achilles said, voice no louder than a whisper, and my heart spasmed in my chest to hear it. 

the atmosphere seemed to change—lightening somehow. "you know i do not come for your gain." apollo said, and achilles must have nodded, or otherwise given a silent show of understanding, because apollo continued. "i wish for troy to win this war, and i believe you have the power to turn the tide. but i know what it is to lose half of your soul." his voice seemed softer; comforting, if the gods were capable of such a feat. "i want you to know what you are choosing between."

there was a pause, and i could hear achillies take a shaky breath. "thank you, lord apollo." 

the god did not say another word, as the flash of light filled the room once more, indicating to me his departure. achilles must have knelt, as i could hear him stand and, a moment later, felt him against me once more. i was not sure whether to speak, whether it would be reassuring or mortifying for him to know i had heard, whether it would help or hurt to deliberate together over the decision. in the end, i did not have to make the choice.

"you heard." came achilles' murmur, so close to my ear, i almost shivered. 

"i heard." i confirmed, just as softly as he. "if you go, i will still come."

there was a silence, and i turned over to face him. in the low light, his perfect face seemed gaunt with worry—the soft glow of dawn casting dark shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. i reached up and smoothed a thumb across his cheek, and watched as something in his face softened. 

"i cannot go." he said. there was no trace of doubt or uncertainty in his words, and i recognised that strong stubbornness; he would not be swayed. 

i nodded. "then you will not." i said, hoping my voice would not betray the endless relief that seemed to be blossoming inside my chest. "what will you tell them?"

he seemed to know i meant agamemnon and odysseus, as he did not ask. "the truth." he said simply, and i felt an odd kind of certainty that whatever he was to say would work. "i would trade my life for the kind of honour the gods have promised me." he looked me in the eyes, and my breath stuttered. "i would not trade yours."