#Otrera was besties with them both and you cannot change my mind -- Artemis loved both Hippolyta and Penthesilea just as Ares did

[gingermintpepper]

🌧️☔️

Oh man okay, sure!

🌧 - "Something angsty from your wip"

Featuring a snippet from one of my very many "Hyacinth's awakening" attempts:

His name is Hyacinthus Amyclus of Amyclae and once, he was a prince. He had been an auspicious prince, chosen by the gods themselves. Man of the People, they’d called him, the Sun Shepherd. He remembers because the sister in his mind wears braided laurels on her arm. Women weren’t to wear laurels. Not like the ones he’d had. He remembers the him who’d laughed at such a declaration, the shock in the eyes of the man who’d dared to question the habits of his prince and princess. If it were against divine law for a woman to wear her brother’s laurels then let the lord of the laurel come down from the heavens and tear them from her himself.  Yes, he’d laughed then. Had stood his ground, had protected his sister’s limited freedoms.  Maybe that’s why he’s here now. Alone. In the dark. With nothing but fading memories for company. He’d tested the gods one too many times and now he was condemned to hell.  “It’s not like you to be so self-pitying, Hyacinthus.” The memory of warm hands cling to him. Bright fingers which cup the edge of his jaw, a softer smile than that of his brother, a closer touch than that of his sister’s. It slips from his jaw down to his neck. Pinches the side of his throat. Right, of course. How could he regret questioning the gods when they were so damn annoying? A laugh like honey seeps into his ear, the scent of laurel and reed. “That’s better.”  This too is punishment. For which crime, Hyacinth can’t quite remember, but he was certain this was divine providence. Maybe his pride, for daring to possess a god. Maybe his hubris for believing he would be an exception to the fates.  “Now, that’s not entirely fair, my dear.” And him, with his aureate hair like the rays of the sun and his darkly shining eyes as rich and gold as the honeycomb. He, who lingers above Hyacinthus’ prone body even now, picking at his corpse and leaving marks on his death-pale skin, he was the cruellest punishment of them all. A teasing laugh like wind over the rolling hills, cold kisses that do not fill the aching emptiness carved and bleeding in Hyacinthus’ chest. He is the only thing that is more ghost than memory. His madness given golden form and domain over him, the only man he had ever bared his throat to over and over and over again.  “Is this not an eternity as I promised? Here, with me?”  Hyacinthus feels his cold hands on his throat, mere whispers of the heat his body recalls in that foggy once-upon-a-time of his memories. Fine hairs flower petal soft spill onto his forehead, must be making a blood stain of gold on the ground around him. There is no air for him to breathe, no muscle for him to tense and yet he is flush with bitterness anew. “I do not know where I am. Or how much time has passed. Or when next I will see my family.”  The impression of his palm is smaller than the one in Hyacinthus’ memory. Maybe, like his sister, this phantom too will break down and fade away. Maybe that is why he can no longer feel the overwhelmingness of his heat. “Those things lay deep in the domain of the dead. I cannot grant them to you.”  How many times have they had this exchange? How many more times would they say these things to each other?  “Then let me die. Pay my fee and let me die.”  Over and over again.

And ☔ - "Talk about/give a synopsis for a fic you'll probably never write"

Admittedly, there are a lot of those just because I have so many brainworms all the time but one of the concepts I've recently accepted will just remain a warm memory to go back to when I'm feeling down is a 5+1 fic with Ares and Artemis discovering, raising and releasing the Stymphalian Birds! I'm really interested in Ares and Artemis' entanglements and the many things attributed to them both and the Stymphalian Birds have always been cool (to me) due to their nature + their habitat as swamp dwellers! The idea of Ares having found (or created!!) these little demon chickies and panicking because they ate something they weren't supposed to so he panics and brings them down to Artemis who looks at him and his jar of chirping baby birds then metaphorically slams the door in his face gives me immense joy. Ares, of course, bugs her until she agrees to help him keep them fed which leads to Artemis teaching how to hunt, Ares teaching her a thing or two about Olympian politics and a very big brood of birds between them both! Very cute, but it'll probably remain in the drafts.