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indianamoonshine · 9 months

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adonis & rainwater | joel miller x reader | one shot

summary: joel says he can’t do this anymore. you don’t believe him. and that’s how you ended up on his porch during a thunderstorm.

rating: m. this is filthy.

warnings: piv, oral (female receiving), d*rty talk, kind of soft. fluff. loss of virginity. age-gap (reader is in her twenties, joel in his early fifties!). when i wrote this, i was thinking of TLOU 2 joel. i love pedro but pixel joel is forever my baby.

word count: idk!! it’s long.

His name is called out in the midnight summer rain. It’s the discombobulated voice of loss; a woman he never imagined he’d mourn since meeting in the saloon last autumn. He never suspected he’d wrestle with the innermost parts of his shadowed conscience after her — of pleading with himself to touch those softer parts he’d hidden away for over twenty years.

It’s you. Your voice.

He’s strumming at his guitar on the porch, mind tangled with thoughts of you ever since your argument earlier this evening; ever since he said with stoney face that he couldn’t do it anymore. You’re too precious — too angelic — for his affection. He’d scald you with hellfire; infect you with something that didn’t rot in the runners or the clickers. He’d prodded parts of human nature that should’ve died out hundreds of thousands of years ago.

He hadn’t told you this, though. He’d been vague — sparing details of the sentiments he tried so hard to keep buried. Fatherhood was different; it was an ancient response.

This was different.

It doesn’t belong in the human timeline anymore. You don’t need to have feelings for someone to survive. You didn’t even need to have attachments to make the contributions to repopulating. Sex was just technical these days — didn’t require a degree of intimacy that it used to. Romance had no meaning anymore — no aspirations or benefactions to society.

That’s what he told himself — kept telling himself. And he continued to long after he left your house a couple of streets over, ignoring the tugging at his chest and the whispers of a man who lived over two decades prior: “Turn around, jackass.”

But it wasn’t his voice he was hearing now. The moment he hears his name his attention is pulled away in a reflex he lost sleep over at night. When he finds you at the end of his porch steps, doused in rainwater, he lets out a sigh of relief. You’re still in the white linen dress you wore earlier this evening except now you’re soaked to the bone. He can see the outline of your body through the fabric, of the bra and panties he hadn’t yet the chance of sliding off you with shaking fingers. The two of you hadn’t gone that far yet; he hates it.

He couldn’t take that risk. Not with the idea of loosing you.

He stands at the sight of you, abandoning his guitar.

“Petal!” he calls out. It’s the nickname he’d given you a few months prior and it stings like barbed wire when he says it. “What the hell are ya doin’? Get out of the rain! You’re gonna catch your death!”

You shake your head. “No!” you shout through the storm. A chain of lightning appears over your head. “Not until you tell me the truth!”

The thunder rolls. It vibrates the skin on his bones.

“What the hell are you on about?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Say it, Joel! Say what you want to say!”

He runs a hand down his face. This can’t possibly work on him. It can’t. There’s no way you’re capable of scyring out the truth in him.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” he shouts over the thunder. “Now get in here, please! You’re soaked!”

Your pretty eyes well with tears. He can barely hear your voice over the storm. “You love me, Joel.”

A crack of lightning ignites the silence with electricity. He stares you down like he would an enemy. You’re not allowed to do this to him — to conjure these proclamations. Neither of you can afford his love. It’s toxic, rancid — the expiration date past due. He’d be tainting you.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You stand your ground firmly; you’re good at that — at stubbornness. You’ve gotten your way many times before because of it. Of course, it could’ve also been due to the uncomfortable truth you were now attempting to pry from him.

He…

“You. Love. Me.” you push.

The two of you stare at one another for a while. It’s a show of strength for the both of you. The shallow part of him wants to lie - to claim it wasn’t as serious as you’d hoped, that his time with you was nothing more than a passing fancy. He wants to protect you from himself - to shelter you from any of his misery and defeat, of his loss and his grief. You had no idea of the things he was capable of — of the things he’d done. The crimes against humanity that he had committed keep him up at night and beckon him into a blackness that was too hard to claw out of. He couldn’t pull you down with him.

But you were a lantern in that darkness. You’d witnessed his anger and carried his grief too. He’s watched in awe as you dusted the sadness from his shoulders, of sharing the burdens with him. He’d noticed the way you observed his complexities and then created something fruitful from them. You kissed the frown from his grimace and watched with smiling eyes as it faded from his mien.

He was reluctant to admit it.

You’d chipped away bleakness from him.

He watches as you allow yourself to be pelted of rain in a post-apocalyptic world; a reality where violence managed to flay underneath his muscles and bear its teeth in his form.

And still it loved you.

He loved you. Even his violence.

“Goddammit,” he grumbles.

He turns for the steps, ignoring an animalistic instinct to shut the door in your face. When he reaches for you, you gasp in the rain and shudder when he pulls you into his arms and grips your cheeks in one hand.

“I love you, goddamit.” He shakes you a little bit, watching as the tears fall from your eyes. “Are you happy now? Huh?”

You nod feebly in his grasp. “Only if you mean it.”

“You know I do,” he growls before kissing you.

—

It’s the kind of kiss you read in those paperback romances; the sparse library in town carried them. Your favorite was a western.

It had nothing on this.

Joel pulls you into him, hands gripping at your waist. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, kissing him with a fervor you hadn’t experienced before. His mouth opens, tongue shoving its way against yours, and you expected to hate it but don’t.

You haven’t french-kissed a man before.

He knows it - has talked about it with you. The two of you hadn’t been seeing each other for very long romantically - were just friends up until three months ago. He didn’t want to pressure you into anything but you were aware that a man like Joel Miller had needs. You tried so desperately to convince him you were longing for it - for giving him your everything - but he brushed off the idea.

Until one night he got a little handsy.

It was two days prior. The two of you were watching a film at his house. It was some kind of classic Joel had dug out from under dusty artifacts while out on patrol. His attention was on the film like a baby and a shiny thing until you laid your head against his lap.

The two of you kissed of course but only with closed mouth. You would’ve gone farther earlier but you were a pansy - too afraid to disappoint him and too expectant of loosing him. But that night the kiss began to get heated and his hands started to wander. And right as you opened your lips just slightly…

He pulled away.

After that night, he avoided you for over twenty-four hours until you finally cornered him at the community garden. While you expected there to be some tension, you hadn’t expected him to break things off with you a few hours later. His monotone voice and clipped edges punched a hole into your gut. But…

No. You saw through him.

Which is exactly why you came here in the pouring rain, insomnia coursing through your veins, and fury along with it. Joel Miller would not leave your side. You were a lot of things: a chicken, bad with guns, and the last person to ever survive in a world like this. But the greatest thing you were?

A hopeless romantic.

Which is how you knew Joel Miller had fallen in love with you exactly one month ago when he brushed his calloused thumb across your cheek and whispered, “Hey Petal. Pretty girl.”

You weren’t an idiot.

Neither was he.

Joel lifts you in his arms and you gasp against him, unaware that he was capable, but pleasantly surprised. The thunder grows louder, the rain heavy upon the sidewalk. The weather makes his natural scent more potent: a heady blend of a spice you can’t name, pine, and ash. You claw at his t-shirt; the patience within you is growing mighty thin.

“Joel,” you whisper against him.

He walks the two of you up the steps, one hand cradling your ass while he opens the screen door. It slams behind him with a loud bang, the sound of crackling lightning camouflaging the noise. Inside is warm, candlelight flickering against the windows. Joel prefers to save as much electricity as he can, especially at night. Maybe twenty-years of burning wax became something of a solace for him.

“Living room,” you gasp, breaking free from his kiss.

He looks puzzled, one hand splayed across your back. “What? Why?” He’s breathless, accent thick in the throes of pleasure.

You rub your nose against his, feeling the scar across the bridge of it. It’s Joel. “I’m impatient. I’m also very wet.”

Joel raises a brow.

You blush, realizing what that sounded like. Not that it mattered. “I don’t want to get your bed wet is what I mean.”

He chuckles darkly. “Babygirl, I plan to get it wet either way.”

—

He practically tosses you into his bed.

You giggle, bouncing slightly upon it, and stretch like a cat in sunshine. He takes a moment to admire your female form; the curves that show so beautifully under damp clothes, the way your eyes glitter in the candlelight, and the illumination of your skin with it.

If he hadn’t believed in a God before, he did now.

Joel’s been out of practice for a couple of years but he’s tried to convince himself it’s like riding a bike. He and Tommy had broached the subject rather drunkenly a few months ago at the saloon. Tommy claimed it was different since the world ended - more satisfying than it had been before, like tasting chocolate for the first time. Joel didn’t agree at all; sex for the past two decades had been almost clinical in nature, but maybe that’s because he was fucking women he didn’t have any emotional attachment to.

This…this was not void of sentiment.

The last woman he — well, made love with, he supposed — was Sarah’s mother. There was one night he and Tess had fooled around and that had been something but not even close. With Tess, he felt a sense of devotion - not passion. Not intimacy.

He goes for your neck, eating up the little moans you allow to slip from your plumped lips. His hands glide down your thighs until they reach the hem of your dress (the one you’d made on your own and he’d been so impressed by it). He lifts it over your shrugging form and finds the valleys of your body are just as divine as what he imagined.

The luxury of Jackson allowed your tummy to be softer than what he’d been used to all these years — it was unbelievably sexy. He hadn’t cared about it either way before but knowing you were well fed now brought him a sense of peace. He kisses down your sternum, unclasping the bra at your back, and almost fucking loses it when you throw it in the corner of his bedroom.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, taking your breasts in each hand.

They’re soft against his calloused palms — smooth compared to every inch of him. He leans down to suckle the right, your nipple peaking gently against his tongue.

You whimper, arching into him.

A wicked — and treacherous — thought manifests. He imagines your tits swollen with milk, a child resting deep in your womb. He groans, wrapping his arms around your waist as he laps at each breast, silently entertaining the idea.

You grumble in frustration, pawing at his shoulders. “Your turn. I want…”

He releases you with a wet pop and then smirks a little in the night. A crack of lightning ignites outside.

—

You skipped all the frivolity.

There’d be time for that soon.

You just wanted him. Wanted the thick length of him between your legs, hot and heavy, and pulsing. When he stripped bare, your jaw almost hung open in shock at the size of him. You had a suspicion — hell, all the women in town did — but to see it now was…

God, it was almost too much.

It was…pretty, which you didn’t expect. It wasn’t like the ones you’d seen in medical books or in person at the quarantine zones. While it wasn’t pornographic, it certainly wasn’t disappointing. Joel was thick, a prominent vein running down the side, and flushed with red at the head. The length was more than adequate — so much that you did some quick calculations to yourself. That was supposed to fit inside of you?

Joel chuckles when you subconsciously lick your lips, leaned upon your elbows, and waiting with bated breath. He kisses your mouth closed and then your cheek before whispering, “Lie down, babygirl.”

You do, taking in a deep breath. You feel him rub at your slit with the head of it, teasing your fluttering hole, and gathering the slick you’d released.

“You ready?” He noses at your hairline.

You nod. “Yeah,” you breathe, nudging against him. “I’m ready.”

—

A vise.

(Vice.)

A vise in the sense that your insides envelope around his cock. You suck him in noisily, though hesitantly, and he groans with embarrassing volume. You whimper, shifting your hips, and it tickles down the base of his cock.

“Jesus, fuck.” He clenches the sheets in one hand, the thread stretching around his knuckles. The other hand palms the side of your neck.

“Oh, god. Joel.”

A vice in that your body was now a cathedral for his debauchery.

His hips still when he bottoms out, your pelvis against his. He can feel your fucking pulse. He’s not sure how he ever lived without this. Tommy was right.

You’re babbling sentences he can’t understand; it’s as though you’re speaking in tongues. Your neck arches against the mattress, eyes rolling in the back of your head. He hasn’t even moved yet.

He whispers your name — your given name. “I know, baby,” he groans, face falling into the crook of your neck. He begins to thrust shallowly. “I know.”

You bring your arm to cross your face, biting at your own flesh to keep from shouting. Joel wants to tear it away, to hear everything you can give him, but he’s far too busy trying to keep from coming. When his thrusts begin to speed up, you abandon all attempts of keeping silent.

It’s like an orchestra. Joel remembers Tchaikovsky. It reminds him of that; of canons betwixt strings and brass. The juxtaposition of shouts dedicated to pleasure and groans of ecstasy was the closest to nirvana he’s ever gotten. He can’t remember the last time he left his body for anything other than panic and fear.

He takes a hold of your hips, bowing you against him, and begins to thrust into you with a wild pace. “Jesus, this cunt is fucking perfect,” he growls.

“Joel, I think…” you start.

But your mewl is cut short. Joel feels a pressure building and then suddenly…

“Oh god,” you whine.

Joel looks down, hips still pistoning against yours.

He realizes you’ve just squirt, your cum dripping around his cock where it makes a sinful noise with each thrust. He growls, ripping himself from you, and dragging you to the edge of the mattress.

“Joel! What…”

Your protests are cut short when he drops to his knees, wraps your legs around his shoulders, and then presses his mouth against you.

“Oh. Oh…” you purr, hands tangling in your hair.

Din hums against you, the vibrations causing you to shiver and murmur his name. He laps up every drop of you; it’s a nectar sweeter than Georgia fuckin’ peaches. He moans, tongue weaving between your fucked out hole and your puffy lips.

He brings a hand to his cock.

—

He’s close. You know he is.

The feeling is incendiary. His tongue is warm and wet against your poor, swollen cunt. He is a salve, his expertise rinsing away the remains of your previous orgasm.

He grunts against you. You sense the grip he has on your hip begin to tense, the blood rising to the surface of your flesh. You grab his hand at your center and squeeze before interlocking his fingers with yours.

“On my pussy,” you beg in a whisper.

He growls, separating himself from you and craning his neck backwards. The veins throb against his skin, a flush creeping down into his collarbones. He’s never looked more beautiful than he has now.

An adonis with rain in his hair.

Joel comes with a broken grunt — something manly and full of testosterone — before a pearly wad of cum spurts upon the folds of your pussy. You whine at the vision, the sensation of it dripping down your sensitive lips almost enough to get you to come again.

When Joel’s finished, he kisses the skin of your thigh and tummy before reaching your mouth. Your taste lingers against his lips - something earthy and sweet and mixing with him.

The two of you exchange breath for a few moments, unabating in each other’s company. Your soul feels something like a specter; drawn out into the afterlife and existing in a patch of time frozen in his arms.

Joel cups your cheek, thumb brushing your lips. His furious kiss has reddened the skin and making them tender. He kisses them softly. Once. Twice.

You slide your hands up his broad chest, stopping at the sides of his neck, and massaging gently. He closes his eyes, relaxing into your touch.

“I knew you loved me,” you whisper in the darkness. The candles have burned out. The rain still falls.

And so does Joel.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #mw1 #tlou2 #joel tlou

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talonabraxas · 13 days

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🌼🏵️🌼🏵️☀️🏵️🌼🏵️🌼 Green Man, May Day and May Pole

The Goddess of what is now May Day goes back to ancient times, in Anatolia, Greece, and Rome. Spring goddesses came to be venerated at two Roman holiday festivals that led to our May Day. The Roman Empire is important here because it took over much of Europe and the British Isles. Its mythology, associated rituals, and holidays spread there and merged with local conditions, mythologies, holidays, and customs.

The first of these goddesses of spring holidays was the Hilaria festival (from Greek hilareia/hilaria (“rejoicing”) and Latin hilaris (“cheerful”), held between the vernal equinox and April 1. It goes back to when the Phrygian goddess Cybele was introduced to Rome, at the end of the 3rd century BCE. In her myth, she had a son-lover, Attis, a dying-and-rising god who was mortally gored by a boar. Cybele knew that he had not died for eternity but that his spirit simply had taken refuge in a tree for the winter, and that he would be reborn from the tree in the spring, on the vernal equinox. When Cybele was introduced in Rome, she was given her temple of Magna Mater on the Palatine hill and a also a holiday with corresponding rituals. In her festival, a pine tree (that of Attis) was cut and stripped of its branches, wrapped in linen like a mummy, and decorated with violets (Cybele’s flower, because in the myth violets were said to have sprung from the blood of Attis).

It was then brought before Cybele’s temple on wagons in what resembled a funeral cortege, since Attis was “dead” inside the tree. This was followed by days of frenzied grief and mourning (including scourging) known as the “blood days,” when the tree was symbolically buried in a “tomb.” Attis then resurrected (rose out of the tree) on the day of Hilaria and was reunited with Cybele, symbolizing the beginning of spring. The tree was then erected before Cybele’s temple, and the people celebrated around it. The celebrations ended on April 1, which may be the origin of our April Fool’s day (the people were having a “hilarious” celebration). This has obvious parallels with the Maypole and May Day celebrations.

The second of these holidays was the Floralia, named after Flora, goddess of flowers and spring. Originally she may have been a Sabine goddess, about whom we know nothing other than that she had a spring month named after her on the Sabine calendar (Flusalis, linguistically related to Floralia) and that supposedly an altar to her in Rome was established by the Sabine king Tatius during the legendary period of his joint rule of Rome with Romulus. But none of her Sabine mythology has survived. In Rome Flora acquired her entire surviving mythology from the Greek spring goddess Chloris (from chloros – “pale green”),

who, as Ovid tells us, was originally a beautiful nymph in the Elysian Fields catering to the pleasures of the fortunate dead. There she also attracted the attention of Zephryos, the god of the West Wind and of spring, who quickly had his way with her. But then he married her, in what turned out to be a happy, loving marriage. As a wedding gift he filled her fields (her dowry in the marriage) with a flower garden, the flowers in which were said to spring from the wounds of Attis and Adonis. Zephyros, as the West Wind, brings the spring rains that grow the flowers. Thus, Virgil wrote that “the meadows ungirdle to Zephyros’s balmy breeze; the tender moisture avails for all.” Chloris also bore from Zephryos a son, Karpos, in Greek meaning “fruit” or “crop.” Through Zephyros’s wedding gift she became the goddess having jurisdiction over flowers, which she spread (by spreading their seeds) all over the earth, which until then was monochrome. She became goddess of spring. As Flora in Rome, in the late 3rd century BCE a festival was instituted in her honor that lasted from April 28 to May 2. It included theater, a sacrifice to Flora, a procession in which a statue of Flora was carried, as well as competitive events and other spectacles at the Circus Maximus. One of these involved releasing captured hares and goats (both noted for their fertility) into the Circus, and scattering beans, vetches, and lupins (all fertility symbols) into the crowd. The celebrants wore multi-colored clothing symbolizing flowers and spring, as later was customary on May Day in Europe. It was a time of generally licentious behavior. Flora also had a rose festival on May 23.

Holy Marriage Beltane can be seen as the feast of Holy Marriage or else as the feast of fertilization in nature. The Goddess is at her best in an array of flowers and flowers. The God is green and horned. This marriage takes place in nature around us, it takes place between the God and the Goddess, between man and woman, but it is also an inner marriage of the male and female energies within you. This is the feast of the actual cosmic orgasm, which is only achieved in complete indolence or in complete unification. It is the mixing of the red stream of the Goddess, with the white stream of the god. At the most plastic this is (menstruation) blood and semen. But it is also the descending and ascending, the incoming and outgoing energy flow. When these currents are in harmony with each other, unification arises and thereby fertility and creativity.

The Goddess by Talon Abraxas

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salmonight · 5 months

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Free Title Ideas Pt.2

And here is the second part with more mostly likely less titles but enjoy!

(I still cant categorize so take them with apinch of salt)

Low Mood:

Who Mourns an Adonis?

Sinking Sand (Castles)

I Carve(d) These Letters Across My Chest

Smoking Roses

Whispers of the Forgotten

Perfectly Tainted

I Like Dead Things (They Cannot Hurt Me)

A Melody of Misfortune

Echoes of Loss

Crack:

Fake It ‘till You Make It

Honk if You're Scared

Live Fast Die Hot

I Know What I’m Doing — and Other Lies I Tell Myself

True Tales of Bodies(Mostly Mine)

Pinatas are Jerks

Food: A Love Story

You Are Old: Sobering Affirmations for Your Rapidly Disappearing Life

Paranoid-in-Chief

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to [insert activity]

How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Survival Hacks

Learning to Outlive Your Friends and Other Tales of Immortality

Hey, Coffee

Smoking 101: A Beginner's Guide

From Starbucks to Hell: The Demonic Coffee Cravings of Everyday Joes

When Your Summoning Circle Turns Out to Be a DIY Project Disaster From Hell

From Door-to-Door Sales to Demon Summoning: Unexpected Career Paths for the Ambitious

Demonic DIY: Home Improvement Tips for the Dark Side

Delving into the Depths of Dorkness

The Great Demonic Cacophony: A Symphony of Summoning Shenanigans

A Demon Summoner's Guide to Mayhem: How to Summon Chaos and Confusion

Demonic Diversions: When Summoning Turns into Side-Quests

From Grounds to Gateway: How to Open a Portal to Hell with a Cup of Joe

Starbucks, Satan, and Specters: A Caffeine-Fueled Guide to Demonology

The Dark Side of Caffeine: How to Summon Demons and Make the Perfect Latte

Coffee and Demons: A Match Made in... Purgatory?

A Demonic Grind

Romance:

Words Getting Worthless (Love is Wordless)

Honey Without Time

Heartthrobs With A Cheeky Smile

Cause in a Sky Full of Stars, I Saw You

Out of All the Stars in the Sky, I Choose You to Light My Night

At Peace With Stars, in Love With Fireflies

The Love Triangle of Doom

Death:

Phantoms Of The Undead

Shelter In The Graves

Catacomb Without Flaws

Dancing With Your Ghost

Ecto-static

Death Sucks, but the Afterlife is a Blast!

Gods:

Deranged Divinity

Worshipper's Rue

Mystery:

Failing Of The Fog

Stranger Of The Past

Construction Of Twilight

Tree Of The Lost Ones

Rat In The Mist

Giggling Crypts

A Face By Any Other Name

Speak the Truth in Every Sense, Bury It With Innocence

Fantasy:

Forsaking The Elements

Heroes Of The Void

Song of Ice

Lightning in a Bottle

Adrift in the Realms

Fae-n-tastic

Gathering Magic

Three Lullabies of Extradimensional Guides

The Birthday Wish that Sparkled with Magic

Enchanting Birthday Rituals

The Wishing Star Ritual

Destruction /Unhinged:

Sleep as the World Burns

Life is Just a Game (and I'm Playing for the Win)

Inception Of Infinity

Feathers of Chaos

Wingspan of Terror

Burning Brighter Than Hell

Let This City Burn, Burn, Burn

Good Vibes

Shoot for the Moon

Starry Night Skies

Age of Wonders

Streaks Of Laughter

A Lady's Luck, A Robin's Flight

Pt. 1 |

#writing #writing resources #free title ideas #title ideas #titles #title list #fic titles #fic title ideas #fanfic titles #fanfic title ideas #story titles #story title ideas #crack titles #crack title ideas

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calliecat93 · 7 months

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My silly insomnia-invoked, pre-slash Spones story idea that I'll never do cause fanfic writing and me are divorced, but I'm gonna blab anyways cause I can.

I'm imagining something kind of like Who Mourns For Adonis, where the landing party of Jim, McCoy, and some other guys are stuck somewhere with some God-like entity who fancies the one girl. Except we make it McCoy who gets courted, and Jim makes him go along with it to try and get them out of their situation (eventual they find out that McCoy leaving isn't included int hat and Jim doesn't take it well and McCoy is annoyed that Jim talked him into this damn mess, but that’s irrelevant ). The twist? Spock got handed the conn and is thus stuck on the ship and unable to transport down cause Alien Gods or whatever. But he gets told by Kirk about the development...

And he is pissed.

So while McCoy is having to do what Jim normally does and hating it and until they can figure out how to save the landing party, Spock is just... forced to wait it out on the ship. He is absolutely not freaking out internally about how the doctor that he does not have feelings for because he is an unfeeling Vulcan not only being courted by someone else, but that he can't do shit about it. He tries to act in control... but everyone on the Bridge can tell that he's about a second away from breaking off the arms of the Captain's Chair on accident, he's so tense. Uhura is especially annoyed since he keeps asking her to call Kirk or if any of the landing party has called in every 2.5 minutes and it’s driving her nuts.

Eventually the landing party manage to escape, get beamed back up, and go on their merry way. McCoy is there safe and not stuck with God-like aliens. Spock is relieved, and the Bridge crew are nice enough to agree with him when he tells the Captain that there were no issues. He might stare into the back of his head for a day or two after finding out that McCoy playing along was his idea. And because McCoy is a total shit who is turned on by Spock totally not being jealous, can't help but tease about how it wasn't so bad getting that kind of attention.

Next Away Mission that McCoy gets dragged to, Spock makes sure that he gets to go as well. He practically sticks to McCoy like glue, much to McCoy's exasperation. Can't let the doctor's emotionalism get him into trouble now, right? XD

#spones #idk this just randomlly popped into my head #ignore me im tired

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zodarii-dae · 11 months

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the symbolism saga continues! this post is just for third life, because if i did them all in one post it would be way too long. i already made posts about symbols for the top three and the losers. everyone else has animal symbols! i chose based on symbolism, looks, names, behavior, or game events. or just vibes.

cleo is an african lion. they represent leadership, power, and courage, which works well for the queen of the crastle.

skizz is a mourning dove. skizz is one of the few who has consistent symbols. i adore fallen angel imagery for him, so i chose to make him different types of doves. this specific one is mostly for the name, as ren used the skizz blade in his name after his death.

joel is a eurasian wolf. i couldn't give the wolf king anything other than a wolf, but i don't really have a reason for the eurasian one other than vibes.

scott is an adonis blue butterfly. i wanted a butterfly because of the flower valley, and i chose this one for the name! the greek myth of adonis is about a lost lover (well, it's about a lot more than that but that's the only relevant part) who was turned into a flower, which i thought was perfect.

etho is an awassi sheep. i had to give him a sheep because of the wool fortress, and this one looked the coolest.

tango is a danish red cattle. same as etho, i wanted to give him a cow because of his (brief) monopoly, and this one looked the most fitting.

ren is an arctic wolf. he's the other one who stays consistent, because he really can't be anything other than a wolf or dog. i chose arctic for the red winter.

martyn is an arctic fox. i wanted an arctic animal for red winter, and i feel martyn is very fox like. plus, their dens are very similar to how dogwarts was set up.

impulse is a coast mole. he's referred to as a mole quite a few times. i chose the coast mole for the vibes.

bigb is a white-tailed jackrabbit. this one is almost entirely vibes. it is solitary, and he was very isolated throughout the series.

if you have any other ideas, please let me know! i'd love to hear some other thoughts on this.

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celestiall0tus · 5 months

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Amaranthine - Chapter 7 - Poison

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“You’re going to absolutely love her. She’s kind, but not to a fault. You know, like how some kind people are pushovers? Not her. Oh! But watch out for her roomie, Xiulan. Whatever happens, don’t let Xiulan speak her mind, got it?” Juleka instructed.

“Is she really that bad?” Luka asked.

“I thought the same. Like, there’s no way she’s that bad. I got such listening to Xiulan go on a three-hour rant that I forgot what I even said in the first place. And when you think you can leave, you can’t. She’ll keep you there until she’s done talking.”

Luka grimaced. “Ok. Don’t challenge Xiulan. Got it.”

“Good. Now, back to Mari. Uh, she’s a really hard worker. Owns her own store where she sells herbs and her sweetheart bouquets.”

“Herb shop? What kind?”

“Huh? Oh, medicinal.”

Luka raised a brow.

Juleka rolled her eyes. “Luka, it’s Chinese medicine. At least, I think. I don’t really know too much. She’s only just started to teach me a few months ago and lessons can be slowed if we invoke Xiulan or she gets up to her tricks.”

“How often does Xiulan do that?”

“Oh, you know, only when she’s bored.”

“And how often is she bored?”

Juleka didn’t answer. She gave Luka a nervous smile and chuckle.

“Right. How does Marinette tolerate this Xiulan chick?”

“Well-,” Juleka started.

A loud cry interrupted Juleka. Juleka and Luka looked up as a single black cloud formed in the sky. They gawked at it with the crowd around them.

“What is that?” Luka asked.

“Whatever it is, it has to be Adonis. We have to get inside. Now.”

Juleka pulled on Luka’s arm, dragging him with her. He chanced a glance back as the cloud broke apart and moved with a segment heading towards them. The crowd that had gathered now ran to shelter with them. He fought to keep on his feet while the masses pushed them around, desperate to escape what came their way.

Juleka yelped as she fell. Luka called out to her but was caught up in the rush of the people. He shoved people back as he fought against the current to Juleka, who struggled to regain her footing with the stampede. He called again, but his cry drowned out by the boom of thunder. He saw her and reached out as the black cloud reached them. He glanced up to see they were large, monstrous wasps with their stingers at the ready. They dove and stung anyone left behind. His eyes widened as one dove for him. He froze and watched as Juleka jumped up and protected him from the attack as it stung her.

Fear tore through Luka as he caught Juleka’s heavy body. He fell to his knees, clutching her body. He looked up as the wasp dove for him again but was halted when fat raindrops poured from the heavy black storm clouds. He watched the monster wasps flail wildly in the torrential downpour before they fell to the ground.

Luka caught back up as he looked down at Juleka, who was still as death. He pressed his ear to her heart, making out a faint, slow heartbeat. He cradled her closer as he looked around desperately for anyone, but all he saw was other wounded and wasp corpses. He bowed his head and mourned Juleka when there was a metallic click against stone and a pop. He looked up as the street was replaced with a large auditorium filled with countless other wounded.

Luka’s heart dropped seeing so many afflicted as more filled the room. How many more fell to those killer wasps? How many have already died? Was there any hope to still save any of them? Was this all the heroes could do? Corral them in one pen all to do what exactly?

“Lay the afflicted on the floor!” a familiar woman’s voice boomed overhead.

Luka furrowed his brow at the voice but complied. He set Juleka down in front of him. He took her hand, flinching slightly at how fast she was losing warmth. He kept his eyes on her when there was a blur of motion and a cut near her heart. He panicked and reached out to stop the blood but paused. He raised a brow as purple liquid was pulled out of the wound. He reached out towards it when he heard music.

Luka looked past to the middle of the room. His heart skipped a beat and his breath stolen away when he saw the dragon knight. She danced around in an elegant, captivating display as she pulled the wasp’s venom from the afflicted. A fox woman accompanied her with Celtic folk music he had heard all his life. He watched her every enrapturing movement along with the familiar, upbeat music. Before long, people rose as they were each freed of the venom’s grasp.

Luka broke his gaze when he heard Juleka wake up. Relief flooded him as warmth and color returned to her and she sat up.

“Where are we?” Juleka asked.

Luka didn��t answer. He pulled her into a hug as tears gushed from his eyes.

“Easy, Luka. I’m fine.”

Luka froze. He moved away and glared at Juleka. She gave a nervous smile as she shrunk under his glare.

“Don’t you do that ever again. Do you hear me?”

Juleka opened her mouth, but she shut it and nodded.

Luka sighed and pulled Juleka back in for a hug. He glanced over at the dragon as her dance entered a crescendo. Juleka moved away and they watched the dragon together. She pooled the venom into an orb over her. Once everyone was well, she purified and transformed the poison into a shower of mist that carried the scents of lavender and sage on it.

Everyone marveled while Luka and Juleka kept their eyes on the dragon, who stood still with her arm still outstretched. They watched her slow movements when she finally lowered her arm and her first step. She took another step, then crumbled to her knees. Cries of panic and fear tore through the auditorium as she hit the ground.

Luka leapt to his feet and pushed past everyone to the dragon. Fear placed a chokehold on him seeing her this close unconscious. He moved closer when the fox woman rushed him. The fox met his gaze and smiled.

“I’m sorry, Luka.”

Luka’s jaw dropped. He opened his mouth to speak when light formed around the dragon. He cried out as the dragon was consumed by the beautiful display. He frantically searched the light when it faded, and the dragon and the fox had vanished. He uttered a silent curse before he returned to Juleka.

“I’m sorry,” Juleka said.

“It’s… yeah.”

Juleka leaned closer. “Do you think you’ll do the thing now? I know you’re still thinking on it, but you know.”

Luka huffed and pulled back his jacket sleeve. He stared at the black bracelet that remained where Juleka put it the night before. He still wasn’t fully sold on the idea of being a villain like Adonis. After today, he didn’t think he could bring himself to hurt the innocent. He wouldn’t be what Adonis was. If he did this, then who did that leave?

Luka stretched his mind. He didn’t want to oppose the dragon, but he couldn’t rule it out. Even so, it felt wrong to after what she did today. Not like Carmine and Midnight. Where were they during all this? What help did they offer? How many were lost due to their negligence and complacency? They made no effort to hide they left the dragon to protect the people while they went about their business.

Anger flared into pure rage within Luka. Carmine and Midnight probably just focused on the monster while the dragon had to push herself to faint doing what those two should be helping her with. How could they be ok with allowing the dragon to give everything while they barely did anything? He wagered they’d be completely lost without the dragon and her assistance, yet this was the thanks she got.

“Luka? You look angry,” Juleka remarked.

“Yeah, I guess I am, but I have a target in mind.”

“Target?”

Luka leaned closer so he was within earshot of Juleka. “I can’t be like Adonis. I don’t have it in me. I can’t oppose the dragon for several reasons. However, there are a pair of heroes I feel could use a lesson on what happens if you get too complacent.”

Juleka grimaced. “Well, just don’t kill them. Know this, they’re the only ones that can destroy Adonis’s monsters for good.”

“I’m a little offended. You’d think I’d go that far?”

“Normally, no. However, you looked angrier than I had ever seen you. Angrier than a moment ago when you were mad at me.”

“Was I? Shit. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I should just become a hero.”

“You could, but I’m sure you’ve heard how she is around Carmine and Midnight. She really just acknowledges their presences, nothing more.”

Luka let out a harsh laugh. “Then maybe I shouldn’t do this at all.”

“You got this. Just don’t lose yourself to those emotions. I know it’s difficult. It takes me every ounce of strength to not snap a person in half for just looking at Rose wrong.”

“You’re too much like our mam at times.”

Juleka smirked. “Excellent. I just need to strike fear with a mere word like Mam does with ‘duckies.’”

Luka shuddered and Juleka laughed.

“Seriously though. You want to meet the dragon? You want to be with her, right?”

“I… yes.”

“Then this is your chance. You can be a hero and just be close to her, or you can be a villain and get her full attention. You don’t have to be Adonis, but just enough of a threat.”

Luka nodded. “Yeah. I think I can manage that. Hopefully.”

“Then why don’t we get home. I think the snake should strike tonight during their patrol.”

“What about the dragon? Shouldn’t I wait until she’s rested?”

“Good point. Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.”

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #au #miraculous au #alternate universe #mlb fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfic #fanfiction #amaranthine au #soulmate au #luka couffaine #mlb luka #luka miraculous #juleka miraculous #miraculous juleka #mlb juleka #juleka couffaine

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haggishlyhagging · 7 months

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The farther back we go in our search for the origins and meaning of the Moon Goddess the nearer do we come to the animal concept. Hecate was once, in the dim past, the three-headed Hound of the Moon; Artemis was a Bear; Isis was Hathor the Cow Goddess; Cybele was once a Lioness or a lion-headed goddess. She sits on a lion throne and rides in a chariot drawn by lions; and Atargatis, Queen of Heaven, is shown riding a lion, her head surrounded by rays. In the later centuries of the Egyptian worship of Osiris it was said that Apis, the Bull, was the spirit of Osiris. This saying gives a direct clue to the evolution of the religious thought.

First the moon deity was an animal, then the spirit of the god is an animal. Later the god or goddess is attended by animals. Later still these animal attendants were replaced by human beings who wore animal masks, performed animal dances, and were called by animal names. We are told, for instance, that little Athenian girls danced as bears to Artemis of Brauronia, the Bear-Goddess, while Bear-men attended the Celtic moon goddess, who was once manifested in bear form.

The bear, indeed, represents the fierce and terrible aspect of the Goddess herself, which not only creates but also destroys life. Later the two aspects of the Goddess become partially differentiated and separated, so that in the famous sculpture of "The Mourning Aphrodite of Lebanon," the animal, in this case a boar instead of a bear, is killing the youthful Adonis, while Aphrodite laments in deepest grief. Yet the boar is also Aphrodite, herself.

The animal attendants and animal emblems surrounding the goddess in her shrines must have constantly reminded the worshippers of later days, of those wilder aspects of her nature from which she had in part evolved. Her animals she still kept near her, for she could not be comprehended except in the light of her past.

The psychological meaning of this gradual change in form is clear. In extremely early days, before civilization had progressed very far, feminine instinct was perceived as entirely animal. Then the fierceness of the mother's care for her young and the voracity of her lust for the male in the mating season were the most obvious and dominant characteristics of beast and woman alike. As civilization progressed, however, women began to develop something nearer akin to the emotion which we call love, and the goddess of women rose gradually above her animal nature. She was represented now as woman but with the fierceness of her feminine instinct not far away. She rides her lion, gives birth to her animals, wears her headdress of cow horns and is attended by her beasts, while she herself transcends in some measure the fierce animal passions which these things represent.

This situation is not far removed from the condition of our own civilization today. Our women have learned human manners and emotions—pity, consideration, love; but not far beneath the surface, slumbering in unconsciousness, the old primitive form of feminine instinct lurks, ready to spring up again and perhaps even to reassert its power over consciousness in any really critical situation.

-M. Esther Harding, Woman’s Mysteries: Ancient and Modern

#m. Esther Harding #moon goddess #goddess worship #jungian psychology #feminine instinct

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heretherebedork · 10 months

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I really am trying to figure out why both stories we've been told so far have been about grievous injuries and either being able to be rescued or failing to be rescued... but both of them are about physical danger and physical injury and the loved one being hurt and either being saved but then left or not able to be saved and being mourned instead.

Both are stories of romance but romance that has a lot of danger inherent and that includes loss and separation despite wanting to be with them during them the danger they might face.

The rabbit was saved from danger by someone he loved but lost them to other people even after he healed. And Adonis was hurt when he was apart from Aphordite and so she lost him to a danger she could have saved him from if she'd been there.

And the last story we get is about someone pining away until their death because she loved someone who didn't love her back... but that story doesn't get any emotional response and leaves both people cold.

Pining away without speaking is not romantic in this context because her waiting around is what lead to her death. Apollo left her behind and she did nothing and so she lost not just their love but her life and she became a flower but she was not romantic, not to them.

It's honestly fascinating to see the connections between the stories and the reactions they go. The rabbits at the start about injuries and care and pain and loneliness and pining and with Zo reading with such emotion to the story about being apart and so getting injured that got a strong reaction from Joke and going back to that idea of pining from a distance and getting no reaction from Nita but dismissal.

#hidden agenda #hidden agenda the series #hidden agenda series #bl series #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama #thaibl #asianlgbtqdramas #asian lgbtq dramas #thai bl series #thai bl drama #thai series #thai bl meta

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a-d-nox · 2 years

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adonis, god of beauty and fertility (asteriod 2101)

hi, this is my first post on tumblr mostly because i was inspired by my recent literature courses at college to get reinvested in mythology. but more so the fact that nearly every god and goddess has an asteroid that can be found in your natal chart. but like what does the asteriod even mean when you end up finding it??

my plan for this tumblr account is to post the mythology and my interpretation of what the asteroid may mean. ✨BUT✨ i do encourage you to read and come up with your own interpretations - i am just trying to do the heavy lifting for you (i do the reading, you can have fun)!

so i present to you: adonis.

Aphrodite cursed Adonis’s mother to lust over her father (incest - scandal of Greek myth, i know). His mother deceived her father into having sex with her for nine nights - which led to the conception of Adonis. Her father learned of her deceit and attempted to kill her. She plead to the gods to save her by changing her into a tree (why? who tf knows lol). In her tree form, she birthed Adonis. Aphrodite ultimately fell in love with him (yes, he was still a baby). To protect Adonis from herself (yikes) she had Persephone raise him - which led to her falling in love with him too (double yikes). Zeus settled the dispute by letting each goddess have a third of his year, the last third was his to choose whichever goddess he wished to spend that time with - that was Aphrodite with whom he had two children. Ares was jealous of Adonis as he had secret affections for Aphrodite - so he set a wild boar after him (some versions do claim it was Artemis that sent the boar because Adonis claimed to be an expert hunter). But Adonis died in Aphrodite arms - from her Anemones was created from the mourning over the death of a lover. IN MY OPINION Adonis in a chart can represent a) something everyone loves or envy’s you for, b) the things that people want to hide you from others because of, c) why they will fight for you due to not wanting to share you with anyone else, d) the type of men you find attractive, or e) fertility.

fun, right? i encourage you to look into the aspects of adonis along with the sign, degree, and house placement. for the more advanced, take a look at the persona chart of adonis AND/OR add the other characters involved to see how they support or impede adonis!

OTHER RELATED ASTEROIDS/PLANETS: aphrodite (1388), persephone (399), zeus (5731 / h42), artemis (105), and ares can be seen/substituted as the planet MARS as there is no “ares” asteroid!

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my “suggest a post topic” button if you want to see a specific post or mythical asteroid next!

click here for the masterlist

click here for more greek myths & legends

want a personal reading? click here to check out my reading options and prices!

#astrology #asteroid #persephone #aphrodite #zeus #artemis #greek mythology #natal chart #persona chart #adonis #asteroid2101

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emilee1421 · 7 months

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Winters and Nixon find a way to keep warm on a cold night in Bastogne.

The moon wore an icy halo in the cold winter sky. The frigid wind hummed a low mournful hymn through the trees of the dense forest. The silver moonlight streamed through the bare branches and cast long inky shadows onto the snow.

It had been quiet for a while now as the night slipped into that odd no-man's-land between midnight and dawn. It was easy in those late night hours to forget that they were completely surrounded by enemy forces. Winters blinked his eyes against the sting of the cold and fatigue, refocusing them on the treeline across the clearing. He couldn't see past the first few trees that formed the line but he was certain the Germans were there, watching them from their places in the dark as well.

He sat back against the frozen earth of his foxhole, pulling off his helmet and tipping his face up toward the inky, black vastness above. He swore he’d never seen so many stars. they stood out as perfect glittering singularities that seemed to shiver in the bitter December wind.

The crunch of boots through snow broke the quiet and Nixon slid into the hole with him. He propped his rifle up beside him before searching through his coat and producing his silver flask. He took a long pull before holding it out to Winters. “Brought you something warm” he drawled. His dark eyes shone with amusement as Winters shook his head. “Suit yourself.” he chuffed, taking another swallow.

“God, what I wouldn't give for a hot shower.” Nixon murmured a few moments later; puffing breaths of warm air into his cupped hands. Winters watched the way his frozen breath puffed past his perfectly sculpted lips as his mind wandered to the stolen glances of Captain Nixon in the Toccoa barrack showers. Rivulets of water flowing over broad shoulders and the rigid muscle and sinew of his abdomen. His cock twitched and thickened in his pants. He stopped his train of thought before he lost himself in it fully.

“I’d settle for an extra pair of socks at this point.” Winters huffed, forcing the thoughts from his head. The cold and lack of sleep was wearing away at his resolve to keep his mind sharp and not daydreaming about a certain dark haired adonis captain. Despite his efforts, he couldn't deny that the magnetic pull between them had only strengthened. At first he marked it up to bonds between all the men here. The fear and horror of war had a way of creating a deep and unique connection with those who experienced it with you. That’s surely what he felt. A bond with a man who had lived the same nightmare.

He tipped his face up and took a cleansing breath, watching the stars again. Nixon followed his gaze to the heavens. It was beautiful, serene even, and starkly out of place with everything they had seen since arriving in Bastogne.

Nixon shifted closer until they were pressed together from shoulder to knee. He relaxed a bit when Winters made no effort to move away. He took Winters’ gloved hand and directed his pointer finger across the sky to trace the outlines of the constellations.

“Corona borealis,” he murmured softly, tracing his finger over the celestial crown. “Taurus,” he traced over the outline of the bull’s horns.

“How do you know all this?” Winters asked.

“I contain multitudes,” Nixon replied with a smirk, dropping Winter’s hand but holding his cerulean gaze. Nix was certain Winters felt that same pull, like gravity. An inevitable force drawing them to one another. It wasn’t something as vapid at lust. It was much deeper. A bone-deep attraction that was calming and exciting all at the same time. Like the first warm day in the spring or the feel of warm salty ocean waves on a long-awaited holiday.

Nix reached up slowly and traced his thumb over Winters’ chapped bottom lip, fingers ghosting over the rough stubble of his jaw. He studied the lines of his face, the curve of his eyebrows, and the smudges of dirt across the pale skin of his forehead.

He felt Winters’ breath stutter as it caught in his throat but he kept moving his hand slowly, deliberately, watching the other man for any reaction. Winters studied Nix right back, glancing between those dark eyes and those perfectly bowed lips. He leaned into Nix’s touch, pressing his cheek into the warmth of his palm, and sliding a timid hand onto Nix’s thigh. It was permission bordering on desperation.

Both of their breaths came in quick panting bursts as they teetered on the precipice; suspended in the full gravity of the moment. Nix cupped the back of Winter’s neck before pulling him forward and kissing him hard, sending both of them careening over the edge. Nix’s plush lips moved against Winter’s, demanding but gentle all at once as the buzzing attraction became a live wire between them.

He felt Winter’s body tense in brief surprise before relaxing into his touch as he leaned closer, lips parting to let him in. He pulled Nix to him until their bodies were flush, one hand threading into the dark hair that had grown out over the weeks in Belgium. He could taste the whisper of cigarettes and the edge of whisky on his tongue.

Nix claimed Winter’s mouth, vying dominance through the movement of their mouths. He sucked Winters’ bottom lip and nipped it just hard enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure down Winters’ spine. Winter’s fingers slid into Nix’s coat, savoring his warmth and exploring their way around his ribs before gripping into the muscles of his back in a silent plea for him to not let go.

Nix deepened the kiss, chasing the desperate building between them and stoking the embers of want until he felt flames of desire spread deep in his belly.

Winters pulled back slightly, gentle panting breaths caressing Nix’s skin as he ghosted his lips over the crook of his neck.

“Nix” Winters rasped, making the familiar nickname sound like a prayer.

Fast crunching footsteps approached. The two men instinctively pushed away from each other, repositioning in the foxhole to face the line just in time for the footsteps to skid to a stop behind them. Doc Roe crouched over them, stuffing down bandages and pressure dressings into his medic bag.

“Doc” Nix nodded to the medic.

“Sir” Roe nodded back. “You guys alright?” he asked.

“We’re all good here,” Winters answered.

“Don't forget to move around between watches. Gotta keep warm.” Roe added before hurrying off to the net foxhole.

Both men settled into the dark silence of the night, neither one speaking for a while until Nix shifted closer again and pulled the standard issue wool blanket from his pack. He spread it over both of them and repositioned his rifle within reach.

“Get some sleep, Dick. I’ll wake you up if it gets interesting” He murmured, eyes fixed on the treeline across the clearing.

Winters shuffled down, pulling his scarf and coat up around his neck and settling in. He looked back up to the stars, trying to find the constellations Nix showed him until his eyes grew heavy. His last thoughts before surrendering to the irresistible pull of sleep were of perfectly bowed, warm lips and sultry deep-brown eyes.

#band of brothers #hbo war #richard winters #lewis nixon #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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sabakos · 1 year

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Btw I've been wondering, when do you use sabakos and when do you use sabaki? I'm not particularly knowledgable on Greek declension.

Grammarwise, σαβακός is the masculine nominative singular form, which is what's used for the headword in the dictionary. I picked it for my url partially because it was available, and partially because, given the meaning (rotten, feeble, effeminate) it seemed like the masculine form was needed to accurately describe me, given the implication of the word. If I had to give the closest possible literal single-word translation, it would probably be "moldered" which matches the archaic tone of the word as well as the connection to dried out, crumbling. But "rotten" or "smashed" are close as well.

As far as my online name, I use Sabaki (rhymes with bee), which is pretty close to the feminine nominative singular σᾰβᾰκή as it would have been pronounced in more colloquial speech in the Hellenistic or early Roman period. I picked that because I didn't like the sound of "-κός" for my own name (too masculine) and the neutral "-κόν" implies the wrong sort of gender-neutral in English in my view, similar to how "waitron" sounds like a robot not an enby waitstaff person. I don't really consider myself a woman, but I also don't like following rules so I'm fine with a girl name.

The word sabakos itself is a particularly rare word from pre-Greek, the only places it's attested, apparently, are two mentions in Hippocrates' On the Sacred Disease, an entry in a dictionary by Hesychius specifically on rare and obscure words, and a poem (7.222) in the Greek anthology by Philodemus the Epicurean, from the 1st century BCE.

I actually translated the poem itself a while back. It seemed appropriate to do if I was going to have this word as my url since it's really the only tangible use of the word. So I'm going to infodump a bit about it.

The poem is a funeral epitaph, meant to be inscribed on a gravestone, although they were often written more as an artistic exercise, as if they were intended to be inscribed. But you should picture this as if it was written on a literal gravestone. This epitaph is dedicated to a Gallus, a eunuch priestess of the goddess Cybele, who ritually castrated themselves as part of the mourning of Attis, similar to the Greek myth of Aphrodite and Adonis.

Here lies her delicate fragile body, here lies buried Turtle-dove, brittle blossom emasculate she that stood out in crowd and clamor, she who attracted chattering, she the goddess mother's beloved she above all adored Aphrodisiac, she that feminized mystery, love-potion strapped to her sundress

Bloom, stone, from this sacred dust, from this mad priestess grow not thorns, but petals, of white violets

The phrase where σαβακός appears is in the second line, "brittle blossom emasculate" is "σαβακῶν ἄνθεμα Σαλμακίδων" where ἄνθεμα is a floral ornament (blossom) and Σαλμακίδων refers to Salmacis, the same root as Salmacian, a fountain in modern day Turkey that was said to make all men who drank from it effeminate (emasculate).

I'm... actually kinda surprised this poem isn't more well known? I couldn't find any translations of it that weren't either non-poetic scholarly ones or heavily bowdlerized. But it's fairly unambiguously about someone we would consider "transfem" and it's from the 1st century BCE!

In case there was any doubt about the gender identity of the subject of the poem, other than the feminine pronouns, the last line I think really sells it, the poem is full of other references to flowers (Turtle-dove, blossom, etc.) which carry a feminine connotation, but thorns ("βάτον") or brambles were often specifically associated with young men. This very last part is totally my own interpretation here, but I think it's fairly clear that the intended takeaway here is that this is how the Gallus should be remembered, that the ritual and the dress and all were not an act, but a representation of who she really was.

#mine #tagamemnon #i used david sider's commentary as background for the translation #didnt use his translation though and i dont agree with him on the tone or intent of the poem #unlike dusty classical scholars i can imagine someone actually being upset that their friend died even if that friend was one of the galli #ah well

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resurrection-of-soul · 2 days

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Flashback | PSYCHOBREAK 15

Writer: Akira (日日日)

Characters: Koga, Adonis

[ For the best viewing experience, please read directly on my blog! ♪ ]

Kaoru: Okay, okay, settle down~♪ You don’t wanna appear all flustered and uncool, right, you two?

Koga: …!? Hakaze-senpai!

Adonis: Is that you, senpai? I mean, are you two the real deal?

Kaoru: Yup. Sorry we’re late. We heard HELLSING was going on a national tour, but, geez! You kept getting further and further away from ES. Catching up was like, super hard. Right, Rei-kun?

Rei: Indeed. Furthermore, there were other pressing matters demanding our attention, so I was quite concerned we would not arrive in time.

Koga: Even Sakuma-senpai is… Wh-what’re you doing here? Don’t you guys have your own shit to deal with, like those silly variety shows!?

Rei: Naturally, we've already taken care of those matters. We are not prone to such oversight, after all. We anticipated this situation and prepared accordingly, making arrangements with the staff and other performers to record a considerable amount of footage in advance. Thus, there is no great hurry for us to return at the moment.

Adonis: How very like you, Sakuma-senpai. How much of this did you predict?

Rei: Kukuku. I can only foresee a small fraction of what is to come, but even that small piece can sometimes be enough to determine one’s fate. 'Tis for that reason I always ensure my preparations are in order. It is as straightforward as that. No longer do I hate the world, shutting myself away from it within my coffin. To avoid falling into mourning once more, I shall learn from thy example, Adonis, and give my utmost.

Koga: That’s right. Get to work, ya Vampire Bastard~ Don’t just spend all yer time dozin’ off without a care.

Koga: I mean, seriously, man… Ya always make me so damn worried. Because ya hardly move at all, I start worryin’ ya might have gone off n’ died!

Rei: I shan’t die. Being alive is enjoyable, you see. Furthermore, I have come to recognize that you are individuals possessed of rare and noble character who shall not rely solely upon me, but rather attempt to overcome difficulties on your own― Nay, I already knew. I have known it from the very first time UNDEAD stood on stage, and that conviction hath only grown day by day. Therefore, I can rest assured. So long as I am with you all, I am certain I shall never feel that being alive is tedious. That certainty is truly appreciated. I’ve been saved.

Kaoru: Ah geez, as usual, everything Rei-kun says is, like, totally cryptic, so let me give you a concrete explanation. And Rei-kun, in the future, instead of just making vague philosophical statements, you have to make sure to explain things clearly, okay?

Rei: Sure thing, mom.

Kaoru: You just stepped on a landmine on purpose, didn’t you?

Rei: Because I am quite certain you all shall love and accept me no matter what, I can make such jokes with confidence.

Kaoru: I’m gonna kick you. …Anyway, we’re in the middle of a live performance, so I’ll keep things short. Rei-kun and I returned to the dream world. In that dream of the past, we found the mastermind behind this incident…and defeated him. That’s why our fakes are bugging out and on the verge of shutting down, see? The person controlling them was neutralized, so they’ve lost control.

Koga: Huh? What? The hell’re ya talkin’ about, Playboy!?

Kaoru: It’s been quite a while since you last called me “Playboy.” I never mentioned it, but I don’t actually dislike that nickname or anything. In fact, hearing you politely call me “senpai” is, like, kinda gross~ And it makes me feel a bit lonely since it feels so distant. On top of all that, seeing the unruly Koga-kun acting like a good kid is totally off-putting~

Koga: Oh shit, my bad. I’ve been callin’ the fakes “Vampire Bastard~” n’ “Playboy,” so it just kinda slipped out.

Kaoru: Like I just said, it’s fine. Anyways, what’s the problem? Do you have any questions?

Koga: I ain’t got nothin’ but questions…! The hell do you mean, ya defeated the mastermind!? Who even was the mastermind!? We didn’t know jack shit about their identity up ‘til now! This ain’t some cancelled manga! Ya can’t just suddenly defeat some powerful villain off-screen!

Rei: The mastermind ‘twas not truly all that grand of a villain. You see, the culprit behind this incident was just the sort of trivial, insignificant person one can find anywhere. Seeing as he called himself a “vampire,” I shall simply refer to the mastermind as “Dracula-kun” for the time being.

Koga: Not that it really matters what they’re called, but… “Vampire”? That name came up a bunch in our past― or rather, in that dream we had, right?

Rei: Aye. We knew no groups by that name in truth. It is a name which only appears in that distorted retelling of history. I suspected that the mastermind behind this incident would also be the one at the root of that distortion. After all, I rather doubted that the culprit’s only goal was to show us amusing dreams. He must have had dreams ― desires ― of his own. There must have been something he hoped to accomplish with all this.

Adonis: You honed in on the culprit by uncovering his motives?

Rei: Indeed. ‘Tis the backbone of any mystery novel, no? Who caused the incident, why, and how? Analyze each piece of evidence, speculate as to the answers, and deduce the truth. Fortunately, the culprit in this particular incident was somewhat careless. He left behind plenty of evidence, making the deduction rather straightforward. Firstly, we identified who committed the crime, and it was none other than one of my former devotees, like those “vampires” from our dream. In other words, he was one of the delinquents who was exterminated by us in that past incident. He idolized me, worshiped me without my consent, and sought to become my successor… But was ultimately crushed by the student council and lost to history as just another one of Yumenosaki’s corrupt students.

Rei: The culprit, “Dracula-kun,” was sacrificed as one of the cornerstones of the student council's revolution. Yet, despite being handed such a harsh judgment, he showed no remorse. Without repentance, he repeated his mistakes.

Koga: ……

Rei: He refused to accept it. He could not understand why he had been subjected to such suffering. He simply felt it was unfair. Frustrated and dissatisfied, he convinced himself that the current situation, that history itself, was wrong… …And so he attempted to rewrite history, setting it upon the “correct” course. In his mind, he envisioned an ideal, righteous world where he was my closest companion, my friend, disciple, and loyal subject — someone loved by me above all else.

Kaoru: This might sound kinda flippant but isn’t that like, basically just us?

Rei: Indeed. The culprit behind this incident was a pitiful ghost who longed for immortality, but was unable to achieve it. Frankly speaking, it is quite probable that he wished to become a part of "UNDEAD."

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#ensemble stars #enstars translation #kaoru hakaze #koga oogami #adonis otogari #rei sakuma #flashback #psychobreak

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