Global warming is wild isn't it? I mean? Warm and salty raindrops 24/7? specifically in Soho???
(I physically can't draw angst sorry I did my best here)
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Thinking about how Crowley thinks Aziraphale calls him when he’s bored (when nothing is happening) , when he’s “done something clever” (when something good happens), or when he needs help (when something bad happens) . Like. Crowley my beloved that’s all the times.
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The idea of being owned is just so hot
My mind and body belonging to someone else, to use and abuse however they want to.
Wearing a collar to symbolize that Im not a person: Im just propriety for them, an object, a pretty decoration.
Not having to make decisions anymore, because Owner always knows better, and who am I to go against them?
Obeying instantly to every instruction, word and command because their thoughts are my thoughts, If they ask Ill do.
Always being in a state of total adoration, worshiping and treating my Owner like a God.
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Language divides and building bridges.
Elesa’s feeling homesick. Emmet, bless his heart, tries to help by infodumping while Ingo frantically runs off to find water (crying is a very dehydrating experience).
((Would you look at that! The kids are picking up kantonese and galarian from each other!))
BONUS:
Heh. Callback.
Want to see more? Here’s the masterpost for submas!
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something. about. the horror of being sent on an impossible (death) quest and obligations and hospitality politics. the trauma of not having a home, and then the trauma of being in a house that becomes actively hostile to you, one that would swallow you whole and spit out your bones if you step out of line. all of this is conditional, your existence continues to be something men want gone.
it's about going back as far as I can with the perseus narrative because there's always a version of a myth that exists behind the one that survives. the missing pieces are clearly defined, but the oldest recorded version of it isn't there! and there's probably something older before that!! but it's doomed to forever be an unfilled space, clearly defined by an outline of something that was there and continues to be there in it's absence.
and love. it's also about love. even when you had nothing, you had love.
on the opposite side of the spectrum, this is Not About Ovid Or Roman-Renaissance Reception, Depictions And Discourses On The Perseus Narrative.
edit: to add to the above, while it's not about Ovid, because I'm specifically trying to peel things back to the oldest version of this story, Ovid is fine. alterations on the Perseus myth that give more attention Medusa predate Ovid by several centuries. this comic is also not about those, either! there are many versions of this story from the ancient world. there is not one singular True or Better version, they're all saying something.
Perseus, Daniel Ogden
Anthology of Classical Myth: Primary Sources in Translation, edited & translated by Stephen M Trzaskoma, R. Scott Smith, Stephen Brunet
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Stephanie, breaking off in the middle of her debrief with Bruce, "I-- what is on your helmet?
"Mind your fucking business." Jason replied, grabbing some tools for his bike.
Steph squinted. "Is that a Paw Patrol character?"
Jason rolled his eyes, ignoring her, but Tim blocked his path, grinning at the stickers.
"Hey it's Marshall. And Rubble. Didn't know you were a fan."
"Seriously?" Jason, realized that more and more of his siblings' eyes were on him and sighed heavily. It was a small mercy that Damian wasn't here.
"Enough already, the kids in the Narrows wanted me to do it, and if anyone says another word they can get fucking paw patrol bandages to match."
The way Steph, Tim and Dick were grinning told him they knew full well that he was blushing under the hood.
But wisely they kept their mouths shut, ans Jason navigated around Tim, sneaking a glance at Bruce as he left, irritated to spot the small smile.
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