yapping-about-pjo

[yapping-about-pjo]

HAPPY PRIDE🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

[yapping-about-pjo]

my reaction to being told i have mid art by an ai artist

The bases i used:

1Can't find the artist, but base is free to use 2art by Mellon_soup

Picrew by QUEENBEE

[yapping-about-pjo]

TOA oc :3

Left is unrendered, right is with shading n stuff!

Her names marelle and I plan to ship her with either Lester or Lityerses!

I don't have any idea what to do with her YET, but I have a rough outline! She's a daughter of amphridite and blessed by hecate, and she only came to camp circa a week before Apollo turned mortal, but due to [insert cool reason here man i dunno yet] she has to visit Percy a day before Lester, and meets him there.

Any ideas?

[yapping-about-pjo]

.....yalls. the person who posted this is an absolute internet troll.

They still haven't posted the speed paint.

BUT

Please, please, please STOP saying some artists are "blackwashing" or "whitewashing" annabeth.

Shes a fictional character. It does not matter how you draw her or what ethnicity you draw her as!

Book characters are a slate that you can slot yourself into. You can choose how they look like.

BUT PLEASE DONT CRITICISE ARTISTS FOR HOW THEY DRAW ANNABETH!!

mind you, if they use AI, you have a valid reason to (as nicely and respectfully as you can) call them out when they lie.

But don't hate on them for making annabeth black/white/Asian/ whatever!!

Yall know that hatzune miku [ gods i butchered that] trend that was on tumblr and few months ago? The one where ppl drew her in their respective culture/idea/game/fandom/ whatever?

NEWSFLASH: YOU CAN DO THAT WITH ANY CHARACTER, AS LONG AS ITS IN GOOD WILL!

in my opinion, people can draw what they want, when they want, and how they want, as long as it's not AI, hateful or bigoted, or made with bad taste.

Stop supporting AI artists. even if they edit the ai to their liking.

okay, I figured that i handled this the wrong way in my main. Sorry for that. But i will not tolerate this person anymore, and claiming that other people's art is "mid" compared to hers, and being rude to people who try to genuinely ask questions and point things out.

Also I was made aware that while it most likely WAS ai, it was edited by the OG artist

that being said, do not send death threats to this teen. I have gotten death threats before, and I don't want anyone to go through the things I did.

Here are some photos of the post: [No credits to the original creator, I dont want to attract MORE attention to that post]

to point out her arguments:

She made the argument that she sucked at the Greek pattern thing on the t-shirt.

-> if she DID suck at it, it would be consistently bad. As in, they would all look /somewhat\ the same. But it doesn't, it looks INCONSISTENTLY bad. Notice how it slowly turns from spirals to circles in circles. I genuinely don't think that's a human mistake.

-> also, most ai makes the mistake of always writing HALF-BLOOD instead of the actual logo

-> the shading is inconsistent as well

Now, notice how the foot in the front back(?) Has no hoof. Again, I don't think that's a HUMAN mistake. Also, look how the linearr of the O melts into the dagger.

also, something I've seen other people point out:

You can see these weird glitter sparkle things on some points in the "drawing". I have no idea what these are, so anyone with more insight please let me know.

Look at the pupils and nose. The pupils look blobby, and these no light in her eyes. Annie darling has a weird line coming from her nose? The eye line doesn't match the eye shape qnd the tears melt the line art.

Look at how the daggers lineart melts into everything

Look at the way there seems to be NO visible handle.

The ig artist DID put up a refrece for her armor, and it does look similar but the brackets in the forearms just...don't.

Look at the beads. If it was consistent with everything else there, you'd expect it to be shaded and more detailed.

I don't want to nitpick, okay?

I do feel bad for the poor kid, for getting all the hate and death threats.

But i draw the line at insulting my, and other peoples art, being rude to kids and adults alike, and still not having put up a time-lapse even though she promised it a WEEK ago.

I am aware she's 17. But age isn't an excuse. I'm 13, turning 14 this year, and even I know you shouldn't use ai, lie about it's use, and say other people's art is "mid" compared to hers.

Im tired of her, and I checked her response, and where she showed quote on route proof, she made a drawing of our darling Annie with a speech bubble saying KYS on my response.

If you know who the original artist is, please don't tag them, tell others the account name or send hate. You can TRY to send reason, but i honestly think she won't listen.

Good luck, thanks for listening and fuck ai

[yapping-about-pjo]

[yapping-about-pjo]

I feel like summoning a small fandom

THERE IS NO NAME FOR A MOTHER LOSING HER CHILD

BUT THERE IS A NAME FOR A GOD WHO KEEPS RUNNING WILD

[yapping-about-pjo]

Yep yep yep, baby Telemachus

[yapping-about-pjo]

Stop supporting AI artists. even if they edit the ai to their liking.

okay, I figured that i handled this the wrong way in my main. Sorry for that. But i will not tolerate this person anymore, and claiming that other people's art is "mid" compared to hers, and being rude to people who try to genuinely ask questions and point things out.

Also I was made aware that while it most likely WAS ai, it was edited by the OG artist

that being said, do not send death threats to this teen. I have gotten death threats before, and I don't want anyone to go through the things I did.

Here are some photos of the post: [No credits to the original creator, I dont want to attract MORE attention to that post]

to point out her arguments:

She made the argument that she sucked at the Greek pattern thing on the t-shirt.

-> if she DID suck at it, it would be consistently bad. As in, they would all look /somewhat\ the same. But it doesn't, it looks INCONSISTENTLY bad. Notice how it slowly turns from spirals to circles in circles. I genuinely don't think that's a human mistake.

-> also, most ai makes the mistake of always writing HALF-BLOOD instead of the actual logo

-> the shading is inconsistent as well

Now, notice how the foot in the front back(?) Has no hoof. Again, I don't think that's a HUMAN mistake. Also, look how the linearr of the O melts into the dagger.

also, something I've seen other people point out:

You can see these weird glitter sparkle things on some points in the "drawing". I have no idea what these are, so anyone with more insight please let me know.

Look at the pupils and nose. The pupils look blobby, and these no light in her eyes. Annie darling has a weird line coming from her nose? The eye line doesn't match the eye shape qnd the tears melt the line art.

Look at how the daggers lineart melts into everything

Look at the way there seems to be NO visible handle.

The ig artist DID put up a refrece for her armor, and it does look similar but the brackets in the forearms just...don't.

Look at the beads. If it was consistent with everything else there, you'd expect it to be shaded and more detailed.

I don't want to nitpick, okay?

I do feel bad for the poor kid, for getting all the hate and death threats.

But i draw the line at insulting my, and other peoples art, being rude to kids and adults alike, and still not having put up a time-lapse even though she promised it a WEEK ago.

I am aware she's 17. But age isn't an excuse. I'm 13, turning 14 this year, and even I know you shouldn't use ai, lie about it's use, and say other people's art is "mid" compared to hers.

Im tired of her, and I checked her response, and where she showed quote on route proof, she made a drawing of our darling Annie with a speech bubble saying KYS on my response.

If you know who the original artist is, please don't tag them, tell others the account name or send hate. You can TRY to send reason, but i honestly think she won't listen.

Good luck, thanks for listening and fuck ai

[yapping-about-pjo]

(word count: 2,963)

Horus had been born a tumultuous babe; whose loud, wailing cries could easily be mistaken as the call of the sacred ibis. Small, spindly, and incredibly weak, Isis held her infant son close as she nursed his premature body back to health. She cradled the small boy in her arms until he quieted, when only the softest of coos escaped his little lips. The goddess looked down at the innocent babe, Horus holding her gaze with those big, beautiful blue eyes. A gaze that knew not of the sacrifice Isis had inflicted upon herself in order to conceive him; knew not of this evil, infested world. It was then she then swore to him in hushed whispers that she would one day exact her revenge on the vile god who had brought her so much misfortune.

As he grew, it was only natural that Horus grew curious of the world around him. Isis kept him at bay, curled up in her arms, protected and safe from the harsh realities of the world. There, she knew he would never be found, never to be seen by the scouts Seth sent after her. Though Horus could not sit still; unfortunate that he had also been born with a keen intuition—one that kept him safe from most predators—but most of all, tested her patience. She tried her best to quench his thirst for exploration, but it did not work. “Do not wander far from me,” Isis had warned him sternly, “There are dangers not even I can protect you from. You must be careful out there.” Yet Horus merely blinked at her; naively disbelieving. How strong was this Seth if his mother hid him so well? Surely, he was nothing to be afraid of.

Many years passed. Horus grew up comfortably—or as comfortable as one could be. Many of his days were spent hiding away from the god that stalked and snarled amongst the reeds. Seth had finally caught wind of Isis’ whereabouts and began to patrol the area, though the goddess was always one step ahead of him, leaving nary a trail behind. She could not afford such luxuries. Mistakes like those would never be tolerated. Isis would even go so far as to not comprehend such thoughts, lest her mind slip and Seth catch up to her, putting an end to Horus’ life for good.

He, however, did not share her sense of urgency. Was it because of her cautious, overbearing nature? Was it because she had spoiled him too much? Was it because he grew restless due to the monotonous days, watching the village children from afar live happy, loving lives, without a care in the world? Was it because he had developed an itch for something greater, grander than what he had so far? Was it because he was simply born the way he was, too adventurous for his own good? Isis did not know. She couldn’t have ever known.

On that fateful day, Horus slipped out of his mother’s embrace, hoping to explore more of the Nile than what he had been allowed. Seth had caught wind of his scent, the sweet smell wafting up from the south. With his lips drawn back into that cruel smile, he stalked the child in the form of a crocodile, watching. Waiting. He trailed him from the shallow waters to the Nile banks, where Horus climbed up and settled down into the wet sand to weave a crude basket out of the leaves he had plucked.

He was not oblivious to Seth’s gleaming eyes—could not be, observing how the crocodile inched ever so closer to his sitting form. Horus rightfully thought he ought to leave, to run back into the safety of his mother’s arms—but unlike before, his intuition remained calm; steady. Rather, he felt drawn to the power the beast exuded; a dark energy that rivaled that of Isis’ magic. It was akin to the hot sun scorching his skin, of claws digging deep marks into his bony flesh, of sharp teeth sinking into his small, brittle body and snapping him in half like driftwood.

This was Seth, he thought to himself. This is the one who had been hunting him down, who made even his mother tremble in fear. Horus did not feel fear, however—no, far from it. He was curious. Trusting, even.

Seth was compelled to stalk closer, noticing his lack of a meaningful response. He had expected the little brat to wail and cry like a babe should; to run off to his mother so that he may follow close behind. Instead, Horus’ calm demeanor unnerved him greatly.

“Why do you not run?” he barked harshly, the sound of his voice grating Horus’ ears. It was unharmonious, scratchy—nothing like Isis’ soft cooing, full of love and wonder. It sounded wonderful. Amazing! To be held with such contempt for reasons Horus could not even comprehend. It made him quiver in anticipation.

He turned to him, his clumsy movements stilling for only a moment. “Because I trust you,” Horus replied solemnly, earning a crude, harsh laugh. Trust? Trust? Seth could only grin wolfishly at this wonderful surprise. Oh, how he had underestimated Isis—or rather, how Isis had underestimated her own son. Like father, like son; too trusting for their own good. Not even the stupid little boy Nephthys had by her side trusted him!

The desert sand swirled and lapped up at the air, whipping up a fierce storm as Seth morphed into his true form. Horus could only look up at him with awe and respect as he came into being, standing tall and proud amid the rippling waves. He held out a strong hand, one filled with cuts and scratches, imploring the boy to take it.

Horus looked up at him, eyeing him curiously, yet wearily. Seth sighed, muttering.

“I know that glint in your eyes, kid. You hunger for power, don’t you?”

He thought for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

“You want to prove your mother wrong,” Seth continued. “You want to show her you’re capable of protecting yourself, of standing on your own two feet. Aren’t you tired of hiding, little one? Of wasting away like this? Don’t you want to become a man? A real man?”

This time, Horus nodded his head enthusiastically. Seth’s grin widened, showing off his unnaturally sharp teeth.

“Then come with me,” he commanded, “I shall teach you my ways. I shall shape you into a fine warrior, worthy of wearing the crowns of Egypt, so that when the time comes, you may fight me fair and square without your mother’s influence.”

It was an invaluable offer. Horus’ instincts tingled—Seth’s words were not to be trusted. He knew what lay before him: an opportunity for the god to slaughter him, to one-up his mother in this relentless struggle he found himself in the middle of. Yet beneath that pulsating, wiggling fear was that innate curiosity; interest. Isis had taught Horus how to defend himself, sure, but only against the creatures of the Nile. She had failed to give him any proper military training and had instead promised him that he needn't lift a finger against Seth. Isis had stacked the cards in her favor, and it was merely a matter of waiting for the right moment to strike.

Thus was the bane of her careful calculations—Horus had always thought it was unfair to make Seth look like a blubbering fool. Why should he take credit for something he ultimately had no hand in doing? Surely it would be more right and just if he had taken Seth head on, even if he was disadvantaged from the very start. With that in mind, Horus took his hand and followed him into the swallowing desert. Isis would never see her son again, not until then.

Seth fully intended to kill Horus before long. At the very least, he would teach him how to fight, how to play dirty; how to hunt and stalk amongst the sand and reeds and rip apart his prey. Either two outcomes would occur: Horus would collapse dead, exhausted from such rigorous military training; or he would succumb to Seth’s own claws. There was no other option.

Every day was meant to kill him, to make sure Horus would never see the next sunrise.

Yet, he persevered.

His thin, childish body soon filled up with angry bruises and welts from the harsh discipline. It groaned in protest as Seth woke him up every day before dawn, unable to recover from the previous battering. Yet, Horus found a strange, almost euphoric thrill in being beaten to near certain death. Gone were the crawling days of passivity; of hiding in fear from sunrise to sunset. Horus packed away those memories of spent in the Nile, of his mother’s overwhelming love, tucking them within the depths of his mind. As Seth’s pupil, he had foregone such luxuries. Now, each day was a pure adrenaline rush, a chance to prove himself to the very god that held his very life within the palm of his hand. No matter how many times he had tried to break the poor boy, Seth was met with a fierce, rugged look of determination; and that quickly earned Horus a begrudging sense of respect.

Soon enough, his once slow, clumsy movements became nimble and assured, able to match up with Seth’s quick wit. So too did his opinion shift—no longer was Seth doing this to spite Isis. Instead, training Horus had instilled within him a renewed sense of self-esteem; one he could never have with Nephthys and her son. It was reflected in the way he trained Horus—dangerous, life-threatening sparring sessions turned into informative, constructive fights. He was proud of how he shaped the boy into his own image, into his own flesh and blood; and Horus, in return, was eager to become the son he had always wanted.

When the time came to reveal himself to the world, it was Seth that stood beside him as his proud parent, a hand placed firmly on Horus’ shoulders.

“Let all of the Ennead know how much I love my son,” he said proudly. “Let them know that I am the true heir of the throne, second only to you.”

Horus’ heart couldn’t help but swell in pride and adoration.

Isis had spent the last long years trying in vain to search for her son, hopelessly believing that he was alive. Nephthys, who felt guilty for the crime Seth had committed, searched alongside her. Together, they left no stone unturned, no grain of sand unsearched, and yet Horus was nowhere to be found. In her grief, she tore at her hair and shaved off her eyebrows, beating her chest as she wailed. Horus, her only connection to Osiris—gone.

When Seth finally revealed himself to the Ennead, Isis was distraught and long gone. Joining in on the crowd, she found herself face to face with the god she had cursed for what seemed like eons—and her son at his side, standing proudly next to him.

She ran, stumbling over her feet as she tackled Horus into a fierce hug. Isis cupped his cheek and wept, pressing fervent kisses against his face. “My baby, my baby,” the goddess sobbed, trying to press her body as close as she could against him. “You’re safe! Gods, you’re safe…”

Horus recoiled slightly in disgust, though he gently pried the weeping goddess of him as to not be rude. Dusting off his clothes, he looked at her quizzically. “I’m sorry,” he began, “but who are you?”

Isis froze in shock. All of the gathered gods froze in shock.

Seth merely grinned, trying to hold back his laughter.

“What?” She asked slowly; exasperatedly. “What? Horus, I’m your mother!”

Horus quirked a brow. “Mother? I don’t have a mother. Seth’s my only parent—my father.”

Murmuring broke out amongst the crowd at this declaration. Tears wetted Isis’ cheeks as she let out a blood-curdling screech, hitting her head with her fists. She clung onto Horus tightly, shaking him as hard as though she could to knock some sense into him. “I’m your mother! I’m your mother!” The goddess howled, “Why won’t you believe me?! I’m your mother! Seth has deceived you!”

Said god was the one who pried her off of him, patting her back in mocking comfort as Horus’ face could no longer hide his revulsion. She whipped her head back to her brother, her eyes blazing with unbridled hatred and fury.

“You!”

He held up his hands in feigned surrender. “Me?” Seth responded, unable to help his growing grin. ��What did I do, dear sister?”

“You kidnapped him!” Isis wailed, clawing at him feebly. He took an easy step back, joining Horus as he placed a comforting hand on his hip. “You brainwashed him into thinking he’s your son, you good for nothing—!”

It was that Horus stepped forward now. “Please don’t insult my father like that,” he answered calmly, “He found me, weak and abandoned in the Nile. He couldn’t leave me there to die, so instead he took me in and raised me as his own.” Looking at Seth, he continued, “Isn’t that right, father?”

Seth puffed out his chest proudly, not caring for the fact that Horus believed in such a blatantly self-made lie so easily. “Correct,” he added, “I took pity upon the poor boy. How could such a defenseless, weak little whelp be left all alone on his lonesome?” Suddenly pausing, his face slowly morphed into that feigned surprise as he gasped. “Wait… Don’t tell me… Is he actually your son?”

He couldn’t help but burst out into harsh, barking laughter as Isis glared daggers into him. “Ha! Is that why you’re acting this way, Isis? Do you care to tell the Ennead why you abandoned him, then? Hm?”

“I did not abandon him!” she raged. “You took him from me! Heavens above, I would never do such a thing! You, on the other hand, abandoned your wife and son to raise mine in such lies!” At her side stood Nephthys, who held Anubis in her arms protectively.

Seth only scoffed at such rebuke. “What are you talking about?” he responded boldly, his arms crossed. “Nephthys is no longer my wife, and I certainly have no recollection of that bastard by her side being of my flesh and blood.” Turning back to the Ennead, he remarked, “As you can clearly see, my sister has gone insane. Do you trust her to rule like this? Gods, I hope not! Ennead, let me instead insist to you yet again that I am the rightful heir to the throne. When the time comes and my boy be of age, I shall pass down the mantle peacefully. Mark my words.”

The gods murmured amongst themselves. Isis’ wild frenzy made them hesitant to believe her, in sharp juxtaposition to the calm assuredness that exuded from Horus and Seth. Those who knew the truth kept their tongues still, too cowardly to expose him, lest he trample their temples to the ground in return. In this moment of doubt, clever Thoth stepped forward, a silent hush following as he went.

“Calm yourselves,” he preached soothingly, though specifically towards Isis. “We shall settle this matter in an orderly fashion.” Thoth’s words were first directed to Seth as he spoke. “You claim that Horus is your son, and that much is true. However, Isis’ words cannot be dismissed so easily simply because you claim her to be insane. She is grieving, mind you, so give her some room and time to speak, O Great God.”

Seth did not rebuke, opting to instead huff and roll his eyes.

Now to Isis, he continued. “Assuredly, you may have given birth to the babe—but is it not true that Seth had taken part in raising him too? If one were to weigh his heart upon the scales, it would not tip against Ma’at. Therefore, it is up to Horus to claim what is his birthright, whether it be yours, Seth’s, or both. He is, after all, a fine young man now—I can only assume he is perfectly capable of making his own decisions.”

Waving a hand over the young god, a flood of memories washed through Horus’ body. Not that they had necessarily been forgotten—rather, it was a reminder of his distant past. A reminder of the smothering love that was meant only for him, of his time in the wading in the reeds, of falling asleep curled upon his mother’s stomach. Such scenes swirled and meshed with his memories of Seth, that brutal and unforgiving sternness, giving rise to a rugged love that came to define him. Horus shuddered, the sensation akin to Isis’ pure magic that had once coursed through his body as Thoth slowly lowered his arm.

“So,” he said finally, “What do you think?”

Horus held his breath. Though Thoth had assured him that there was no wrong choice, it was clear there was a right and a wrong. Even then, he had already made up his mind; the only reason as to why he hesitated was due to Isis’ pleading, hopeful look. For a moment, Horus considered what it would be like to be her son yet again. Would it have been as enjoyable as being Seth’s, as rewarding? Perhaps in a different life it would’ve been; certainly, it would’ve been easier to let her take the reins of his destiny. But Horus was not one who thought of such ifs; did not care for such things.

With a firm tone that brooked no room for argument, he gave Thoth his answer.

[yapping-about-pjo]

an EPIC clip:

🪽I can't say i pity my uncle. I mean, ody DID kill his son but. Ody. Ody is my baby boy.

Also my poseidon has both Nerites AND Amphridites named tatooed on him!

@messymoonmad , can I pls join the poseidonverse?

[yapping-about-pjo]

MESSENGERS OF OLYMP- INTRO!

□○●○●○●○●○●○●○LIVE!○●○●○●○●○●○●○□

🪽: hello? Is this on??? Ah, great dawling! So, there's been a bunch of new drama around Olympus......and a bunch of old drama circulating! And we decided to make a profit out of it!

🌈: YOU decided to make money off of this, hermes! Anyway, we're the main messengers of Olymp, here to bring you all of its glorious drama -LIVE! Wether it's the underworld, Olymp, the mortal realm or even other pantheons-

🪽: we'll be here, risking our immortal lives to bring you the best content! So just ask away, and lord hermes-

🌈: and Lady Iris will answer, with EXCLUSIVE footage and interviews! Hope to catch you all soon!

~🪽🌈

Mod speaking!

hello, and welcome to my MoO project! Like my two ☆dawling☆ friends just said, it's a long where I draw silly little drama, interviews and gossip between our favourite pantheon, and possibly beyond! While I'm not a beginner artist. I'm on this journey to improve my art!

Yes, this is based off of PJO and EPIC as well as the original myths!

You can ask: mythology based questions, pjo based questions, EPIC the musical based questions and stories from styx based questions! I might di some more and artistic nudity, but no smut, lemon or hatefull/bigoted questions here please!

Mythology isn't always clear cut, so some versions of the myths are my PERSONAL opinion!

I'm Hel-pol, so these gods are my religion, and I believe that the gods i worship aren't the same eas the gods in modern media.

I think that's all, so ask away darling!

[yapping-about-pjo]

would you like to read a Greek mythology inspired comic based off of the drama of the gods?

Read all about the affair between miss love and mr war, the scandals of Zeus or the newest hits of apollo? Well, that's where we come in darling!

We're the messengers of Olymp, Iris and hermes, and we're bringing all the drama, and answering your questions,- LIVE!

With small comics/ drawings to each ask and situation, it'll sure be a blast!

But no really, should i make an acc for this idea?

[yapping-about-pjo]

My fav part of the litpollo dynamic is that they'd both view themselves as monsters, killers, bad people in general, but view the other as a literal angel that they dont deserve

Lityerses sees every scar on his wretched body just as proof of the struggle of the people he killed. Lester sees Lit's scars as just another little "x marks the spot" to kiss.

Lester sees his own scars from his trials as something to hide. They're only what he deserved, what the trials gave him, just memories of every life he'd ruined. Lityerses traces across them with his own calloused hand in care, they're a mirror to his. Lester calls the scars disgusting casually. Lester finds disgusting what Lit finds comforting. Knowing his lover hates the body he adores, the things he compares to his own.

[yapping-about-pjo]

bianca and nico have officially been at the lotus hotel for 86 years

[yapping-about-pjo]

Artemis and Apollo

The sun and moon almost never pass eachother.

They are too busy to meet.

They have separate ways to go, too busy to see eachother again.

The sun gives humanity warmth, love, healing-

While the moon offers Solace, protection and calm.

But on the rare occasion, when eclipses happen,

Do you think the siblings embrace eachother?

Hold one another?

Do you think as one twin comforts the other, they whisper

``Soon we'll meet again. I miss you.,,

Before drifting off to their duties?

[yapping-about-pjo]

If this post gets to 5k I’ll confront my sister about her not using my preferred pronouns

[yapping-about-pjo]

If this post gets to 5k I’ll confront my sister about her not using my preferred pronouns