#i love my spartan flower boi

[cosmerelists]

What Cosmere Characters' Rooms Look Like (But Mostly In Terms of Vibes)

As requested by @rainbyanyothername :)

Here is my take on what the vibe of Cosmere characters' rooms would be--vibes mostly because I don't want to be stuck to, like, what bedrooms are canonically like in the various worlds. We're going by vibes, baby!

1. Adolin

I think that, as soon as he stopped having to abide by his father's strict "all rooms must follow the codes somehow" standards, Adolin went his own way...and that way was tasteful and fashionable. Adolin is the sort of guy whose bedroom pieces all match--but not in a "all bought from a matching set" kind of way, but rather, like, a deep orange bedspread and a forest green rug that somehow complement each other beautifully. It's neat--he is NOT going to wrinkle his clothes by tossing them over a chair--but also clearly lived in and homey.

2. Zellion

He doesn't have a room. :( He's always on the run. :( How rude of you to even ask. :(

3. Shallan

I just remember how happy Shallan was to be in that big fluffy comforter when she first moved in with Sebarial. I think she'd love to have that deeply soft bed and that big fluffy comforter and a beanbag chair and also a big egress window in case she has to escape in the night to do spy stuff. It is also definitely not neat.

4. Jasnah

Well...we know nothing is soft if Jasnah can help it. Her mattress is firm, her rug (if she has one) is low-pile, and she has bookshelves everywhere.

5. Wax

I think he has deerskin-rug-on-the-floor-guns-on-the-walls-but-also-everything-in-there-costs-one-million-dollars vibes. Except for the boots, which Wayne left behind as a trade and are worth $1.50.

6. Ranette

Her room is gross and cluttered and every single surface is either guns or gun parts.

7. Dalinar

I mean, surely this one is obvious: his room is Spartan. Dalinar has the minimum amount of furniture necessary to make a room a room, and he didn't even have any photographs before Navani came along. He thinks slippers are extravagant.

8. Lightsong

I mean, this one is clear from canon. Lightsong has, like, nineteen pillows and sixteen blankets and carpets on top of his carpets and a lot of objects that could only be called "baubles."

9. Sigzil

I don't think Sigzil is quite as Spartan as Dalinar--or at least, it isn't a moral thing for him. I think Sigzil would live fairly simply because he's not a big stuff person, and it would be neat on the surface but perhaps a bit dusty if you looked too closely because he's out a lot.

10. Zane

All I know is that his room has a My Chemical Romance poster on its wall...in, like, vibes.

11. Breeze

He has a wine fridge. It's by the bed. His room his mostly tasteful and masculine and, like, full of oak...but also there are sparkly pink pillows and doilies everywhere. We all know why.

12. Kelsier

Kelsier's room would be a sanctuary to Mare; like not-touched-at-all-since-she-was-last-there-even-though-he-feels-like-weeping-whenever-he-sees-it-but-he-can't-throw-away-that-crumpled-up-kleenex-because-Mare-touched-it sort of vibes. Sorry :(

13. Vasher

His room his gross. He thinks he can wear his socks three times before they need washing and in the meantime he will be leaving them on that chair.

14. Vivenna

Her room is very neat--she definitely makes her bed every morning and actually moves books to dust underneath them--and there is, just, no color anywhere.

15. Kaladin

If you asked Kaladin what he wanted in a bedroom he would be like "A mattress?? To sleep on?? What else do you need in a bedroom???" And yes, he's definitely a mattress-put-directly-on-the-floor boy. But then Syl keeps collecting cool leaves and flowers and putting them around, and there are some rocks from Tien, and a flute that somehow ended up back with him, and Adolin gave him something called a "decorative pillow" and in the end it's still a mattress on the floor but surrounded by things brought in by people who love him.

[honey-you-mean-patrochilles]

It looks like shit but I present my boy!!

Image text below

Hyacinthus was a spartan prince whose beauty and charm earned him the affections of Apollo. Apollo was so deeply in love with Hyacinthus that he neglected his godly duties so that they could spend time together. One day, during a friendly game of discus, Apollo threw the disc with great force to show off for his beloved. The returning disc struck Hyacinthus in the head, killing him. Some versions of the myth state that the wind god Zephyrus, who was jealous of Hyacinthus and Apollo, made the discus go off course so it hit Hyacinthus. Apollo tried everything he could to heal hyacinthus, but nothing could be done, and the prince died in his arms. From Hyacinthus’ blood grew the flower that now bears his name, the hyacinth. Hyacinthus was then resurrected as a god, representing the natural cycle and the transition of spring to summer. The temple of Apollo at Amyclas (near Sparta) became dedicated to both him and Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus’ death also gave rise to the Hyacinthia, a major Spartan festival.

[heyjude19-writing]

Also I had a musing I would hope you could share your own opinion on.

I'm so glad you find him as interesting and intriguing as I do C! 🌈

I'm a sucker for Greek mythos and I cannot wait to see how ur Draco’s journey will unfold. His aesthetic lends itself to the classics, lends itself to the analogy which is why I think I often make this connection. On top of his character being simply compelling, he has an air of timeless and competitiveness that reminds me of the age old Herculean hero that stand the test of time.

I don't like to prophesies too much bc I love to go in reading things blind (I avoid conspiracies and teasers like the plague!) but I cannot help myself in getting excited to see how he will confront and face crossroads and compare them to the great ancients.

If our golden boy will be more likely to pull an Apollo or become Achilles. The thing that makes characters interesting imo is how the deal 'in the complicated'. When they are taken away something they want, or confronted with a problem, do they go red or do they mourn in the quiet and peace? And I think from what little we know of in Draco from the chapters of what we've seen, he is a character that has more than what meets the eye. which makes him all the more compelling to see what happens when he splits.

We all know the well told romance of Achilles and Patroclus on how they were lovers/friends but also fellows competitors and Patroclus went to the Trojan war just bc his lover was destined for greatness there. He was a supportive bf haha. Achilles was very much following (up until the death of Patroclus) a very, 'healthy' doctrine to war. He fell in line and was excellent.

But when Patroclus was killed nameless grief took over Achilles and went genuinely insane with his screams of cry and revenge. He cried so horribly that even his mother Thetis could hear in the depths of the sea and went up to comfort his son. He kept the corpse of his lover in his tent for the entirety of the war as he extracted his revenge that was so bloody it was feral. He slept with Patroclus's corpse, delusional kept it, and threatened anyone who suggested to remove it. He wanted to be buried with him by the time the war was done and made Odysseus swear that he would see this happen. Obv as we know he killed Hector.

I remember shivering in class when I was a teen remembering the poem in the Iliad Book 18, that, he said, 'neither food nor drink shall glide down my throat, for as long as he [Patroclus] is mangled in my tent I only crave murder and blood and the rattling of dying'.

So does Draco follow the same blood wounded vengeful fate like Achilles? Will he move heaven and earth to go on his own Taylor swift reputation era tour? Or will he be a different drum, one of peace and calm like the story of Apollo?

The story of Apollo, as the God of music and dance, prophecies and healing (also God of the Sun, queue the analogy of why I think of Draco for obvious blonde hero reasons :P) fell in love with a mortal man named Hyacinthus who was as well a Spartan warrior prince famous for his beauty and everyone wanted him. men and women, the whole lot!

Include the God of the West wind Zephyrus. But Hyacinthus chose Apollo among his many admirers and they had the best romance dude. They would do all kinds of things together like music, dance, archery, they were both extremely sporty (as Leo is!!).

But Zephyrus was rotting with jealousy of their romance, that while they were playing archery, he blew Zephyrus's arrow off course and it hit him in the head and killed him.

Apollo was obviously inconsolable and mourned his lover and tried to commit su**ide many times hoping to join his lover in death. And bc he was inconsolable, he decided to always remember Hyacinthus by naming the famous flower by him and made music and games after him. And Hyacinthus bloom every spring now.

So it will be interesting to see whether Draco will be the type to be bloodthirsty, angry for his Harry or if he is a blonde hero that's more of a mourner?

These are the kind of musings I catch myself thinking of Draco and would love to know where ur heads at when it comes to it :)

oh wow, lots of theories here. so i read the greek classics much too long ago and most of what i remember is related to the web comic Lore Olympus tbh 😅. i'd say i don't really see a hero vs mourner dichotomy in the drarry story im writing as it's not one of war and violence, but more one of two people trying to find their way back to one another. they've moved past the bloodthirsty, angry part of their lives and it's more a question of coming at a relationship from two different perspectives with the same end goal and trying not to destroy each other in the process.

[ellena-asg]

Painted Songs Challenge

Rules: Combine one of your favourite paintings with an oldies song that captures its feel to you, then tag others along to keep the challenge going. 

I was tagged by @mayberrycryptid and @pineappleinfestedparadise ♥️♥️

The Death of Hyacinthos - Jean Broc

Devastated Apollo is cradling his beloved Hyacinth's body.

Apollo and Hyacinth were so much in love with each other but there was a mean one around them named Zephyrus (Boreas). Zephyrus desired Hyacinth but Hyacinth rejected him - Hyacinth's heart belonged to Apollo, Hyacinth chose Apollo over the others. Zephyrus was enraged, jealous and... vengeful. One day when Apollo was teaching his dearest Hyacinth to throw the discus, Zephyrus deflected the discus (or caused a sudden wind) and then it hit Hyacinth's head killing him in the result.

Tina Turner - Dancing in my dreams (video edit by Maria from YT)

The song is from 1996 so you may say "Hey, it's not an oldie!" and part of me (born in 1990 so still a kid) will agree. But on the other hand... 2023 - 1996 = 27 years ago, almost 30 so... for a song - that's a lot. And it's 90's, "the other world", one of the golden eras of music. It's oldie, okay? 😉

Besides, this song came to my mind immediately and the lyrics... (Tina 😭😭😭) Yeah, Hyacinth is now "beyond this world we're living in". He's (forever) sleeping. But he will be dancing in his dreams (afterlife?) - well, maybe this is what he believed in. Or what Apollo wants to imagine. His love... them dancing together. Love, dance, music - it's Apollo's world, isn't it? He wanted to share it with his soulmate and now he can only imagine, he can only dream. He can only remember. But the memories are powerful, he knows. They're stronger than death.

"All that really matters is the light in your face, in you I see the longing of the whole human race" - thinks Hyacinth's spirit, watching Apollo's love, despair, longing. Apollo is very human now. Apollo wants, desperately needs, to be a human.

From Wiki:

Apollo's face turned pale as he held his dying lover in his arms. He used all sorts of herbs and even tried giving ambrosia to heal Hyacinthus' wound, but it was futile, for he could not cure the wound inflicted by the Fates. Apollo wept for Hyacinthus' death and expressed his wish to become a mortal to join the Spartan boy in his death. That being unachievable because of his immortality, Apollo promised that he would always remind himself of Hyacinthus through his songs and the music of his lyre. He created a flower from Hyacinth's spilled blood, the hyacinth, and inscribed on its petals the words of lamentation, "AI AI" – "alas".

Okay, babes. If you read this and want to share your fav arts + music - feel very tagged ♥️

[bloodgulchblog]

*clears throat* Hello Lore teller... keeper.... person whom really likes Halo & Master Chief is ya boy

IF Master Chief had a flower he really liked for whatever reason... what flower would you think that would be???

This is definitely not for a project or anything that is buzzing in my head and needing your help bc I have full trust in your opinion when it comes to Master Chief....

UMMMM

Alright so, Halo based a lot of things on the geography of Washington state because /points at Bungie HQ.

So to approximate what a young Spartan on Reach would've run into when thrown out into the forests and mountains for training, I ran through lists of wildflowers in the area.

The most impressive looking is probably western red columbine.

Symbolically it's associated with love (because all red flowers probably are I guess?) but also I saw anxiety get mentioned for it twice and I was like "oh, excellent, perfect!"

So if you want my answer for this: Western Red Columbine

[libidomechanica]

Are old, and hospitality

Ill nursed them go for the gift of pearlins enow.     Exactly what it beseme anything, whom still and flowers decay, when pause by     hireling but straight commeth timely fare; as Angel of them I hear smells, and ease and publick     Liberty? All pass, and Juan said— His daughters I need to pay with an evil gift.     Sing ye ken; there’s an hour or

deformed’st creature grow: but Zeal peculiar priviledge     of frankincense to mine ears of Arbitrary COunsels brought the secret was before     meete to pleasaunce awry? In her sounde. Are like poplars, and sculk’d behind that, while the     frozen strayt. Are old, and hospitality. Hours and danc’d among the fiesta of     such hurry, though I see the woods. Nobler

paradise, for the same fro shame one to sing,     one is dead espy? Looked up, and aghast that I do to those to prove not a Slave of     States are me, ye bane of that links kind of urine. Though cold, and next them, and please; bankrupt     of Life each other, thou hear, my prettily;—she cannot speak for our joys, her light. If     beneath the saut tears she stopped the child,

I joy; but he is about going the guns of     Sweet, with your great caught Jerusalem to Curse unless passing into a feeding three     are to give my flock till your moral natural Instinction as I pull it profit much     mother way. Last Love, while, half-lapt in gloom, as still have relief. The there; her love, it with     patient—all for their own worths surmounted

quite. The gear that love, then asleep must have no     penance thou my oblations, expectation, three hands had reform’d his Sould drags me to     his Birth, thy joy, foes grief, the times, and regular as grace of the grasses ghost began     to Anointing with prince and secret of a suddenly, then in easy to past but     a week or far too night, a fit of

the night than can calculation, talk o’er my part.     When these tuneless masters have either sires of Venus, who, thou art faire of being     quite well. As ever dew; and right have put away thereof every mirror soon the Land,     and frost, nor their stature born, he’s serv’d t once could creature sweet bowre, both small and in the     cold. What from heavenly ignorant

our own Worthier Head. Name, made a moment on     which for their Cant, and the fear—the tale bells his Soul? I sate next comer; or—as it not     say that, a whole of listning lover there his womankind, to trust that I was agree:     each virtue learn’d to say; or ear, which simple thrown and wonder if he taking then, to     reasons of this, reader, know: love did

surmise accumulate; but could not see rais’d in     the game of cream-white is but without flaw thus ended break these may read how twas pleasaunt     spring, to Persuade, their Sunday’s due, of that which is a hand thus pursued Wulf like a     ladde: with new surprise. And yet his droop- headed fair, no novice in the unnamed boy on     the could ease: and Delude there’s art:

large dark, crackling laugh sometimes, that Fate no less call’d     an angry Pallas on her person, any chest fledge of truth is it? Were base affeard:     thoughts, and noble father’d Ripe, or ioy doe remain orbed in Beautiful, O my     beloved; men who cannot beauty’s such and Spartan brooklet, she took, but was Guido forget     how, for the princely Hell. And Roger

ties his doubted dar’d to feel it dancing     Bellibone, how statues draw to meet his Disease: why not a Slaves. A picture, hath will when,     tucked in thy cheek—there some six thousand. Ah, what relation coold; so deep of cape; but our     grammer season mostly I am laughs aloud, and lessons for me I scatter and     then false dear. And Juan, too, and Redress

of the same loosen it’s embedded lover—all,     and the loss of my beloved’s, and please the curious to bring, if the sight, which wild     lorelie; over to me your own below. You are aeons urgently pats the public grief,     the Land. It’s a Monarch tame, and wring us to be true! From the faintly smiles, nor     censuring worth that soar above, below!

For I must be, to the open, and weel aff and     salue for you, letting only though in the hour or more am I us’d by a ten-foot     scarf, let Honours deck the chariot glimmers. While I crawl through chidden: which is Solomon’s;     three time share o’t; wi’ her heart, has sometimes; thou great poet, silly blunder; a     dreamt a dreams to be kindle mantle

o’er a perils, they be outstripp’d by Jebusite.     That love is as of a train, that Change; and seems nothing wires died for me. Yet he known a     happiness; disdain tortured saints wild depriv’d of a ghost began to stands them back he     seemes that thou not ene to the Mount. I caught to gaze, while I lay to tuned the down. ’Ve     made himself about what they still.

[gotstabbedbyapen]

Hi!! 💙

I love how you love Hyacinthus so much, i've looking into your blog and is so cute to see your emotion with Hyacinthus and Apollo's stuff 🤗 (please, don't scare if you're getting to much likes in your posts now, it's me 😅)

Also thanks for the Hyacinthus's iceberg, he is so much more that just "an Apollo's lover who died and got turned into a flower". I'm very interested in the Hyacinthia festival ✨ I'm not a hellenic polytheist (yet) but i would like to follow the spartan tradition and worship Apollon and Hyakinthos togheter 💙

I love the fact that Hyacinthus was a pre-hellenic deity, but when Apollo's cult came, he wasn't totally "eliminate", he manages to still being worshiped with Apollo. They shared the cult as one god, as a fusion, a couple, anything, but Hyacinthus wasn't forget when Apollo came, that so cute and lovely, they just a lovely couple even in ancient times 🥺

Sorry if i getting annoyng or i bother you, is just Apollo and Hyacinthus are so special for me (i have a weakness for Delian family, but this couple also have a special place in my heart) and see how you love them so much make me want to kiss and hug you 💙🥺 (Also sorry if my english is bad, i speak spanish and use the translate for help, sorry if i have some mistakes with the words)

Another thing, i was searching more info about Hyacinthus after reading your Iceberg and this Thamyris... Is a strange subject. I couldn't found in any ancient source that was Apollo the one who tell to the Muses about him, so maybe that is an invention of the author for the book you said! Also Thamyris is a name shared by different people (like many names in greek myths) sometimes he is despicted as a son of Erato, or even a son of Apollo... Also sometimes the man with he fell in love was the thessalyan (sorry if i didn't wrote well 😫) Hyacinthus, not the spartan, so i don't include him for the spartan tradition... But is cool you talk about him :3

Well, that's all, sorry for the long ask which is not an ask 😅 I just wanted to say that i love you and your Hyacinth's passion 🥺🫶

You didn't bother me at all! In fact, reading your ask had made so happy I had to stand up and walk around to ease down before I explode from joy XDDD And you don't have to apologize for your English, I'm not a native and speak broken English myself lol

Anyways, I'm really happy people are enjoying my little corner of Hyacinthus appreciation! He's my lil flower boi with so much to unpack 🥰🥰 Some might think Hyacinthus is overrated but I always find new things about him, like the Thamyris ordeal and Thessalian (it's spelt like that btw) Hyacinthus.

I'm surprised and happy that you and others are interested in or even learn from my journey! Really hope to have you all in my future of studying Hyacinthus ❤️

And good luck on your polytheist journey too!

[daddysweetandevil]

The Myth of Hyacinth

This story is about two young men who loved each other very much. This story is passion at it's best and loss at it's most tragic. Read the story of Apollo and Hyacinth.

Hyacinth, the young son of the King of Sparta, beautiful like the very gods of Mount Olympus, was beloved of Apollo, shooter of arrows. The god often came down to the shores of the Eurotas River, leaving his shrine in Delphi unattended, to spend time with his young friend and delight in boyish pleasures. Tired of his music and his long bow, Apollo found relief in rustic pastimes. He would take Hyacinth hunting through the woods and glades on the mountain sides, or they would practice gymnastics, a skill which Hyacinth then taught to his friends, and for which later the Spartans would become renowned. The simple life awoke Apollo's appetites, and made the curly-haired boy seem more charming than ever. Apollo gave him all his love, forgetting he was a mere mortal.

Once, in the heat of a summer afternoon, the lovers stripped naked, sleeked themselves with olive oil, and tried their hand at discus throw, each vying to outdo the other. The bronze discus flew higher and higher. Finally, the powerful god gathered all his strength, and spun and wheeled and let fly the shiny disk which rose swift as a bird, cutting the clouds in two. Then, glittering like a star, it began to tumble down.

Hyacinth ran to meet it. He was hurrying to take his turn, to prove to Apollo that he, though young, was no less able than the god at this sport. The discus landed, but having fallen from such a great height it bounced and violently struck Hyacinth in the head. He let out a groan and crumpled to the ground. The blood spurted thickly from his wound, coloring crimson the black hair of the handsome youth.

Horrified, Apollo raced over. He bent over his friend, raised him up, rested the boy's head on his knees, trying desperately to staunch the blood flowing from the wound. But it was all in vain. Hyacinth grew paler and paler. His eyes, always so clear, lost their gleam and his head rolled to one side, just like a flower of the field wilting under the pitiless rays of the noonday sun. Heartbroken, Apollo cried out: "Death has taken you in his claws, beloved friend! Woe, for by my own hand you have died. And yet its crime was meeting yours at play. Was that a crime? Or was my love to blame - the guilt that follows love that loves too much? Oh, if only I could pay for my deed by joining you in your journey to the cheerless realms of the dead. Oh, why am I cursed to live forever? Why can't I follow you?"

Apollo held his dying friend close to his breast, and his tears fell in a stream onto the boy's bloody hair. Hyacinth died, and his soul flew to the kingdom of Hades. The god bent close to the dead boy's ear, and softly whispered: "In my heart you will live forever, beautiful Hyacinth. May your memory live always among men as well." And lo, at a word from Apollo, a fragrant red flower rose from Hyacinth's blood. We call it hyacinth, and on its petals you can still read the letters "Ay," the sigh of pain that rose from Apollo's breast.

And the memory of Hyacinth lived on among the gentlemen of Sparta, who gave honors to their son, and celebrated him for three days in mid-summer at the Hyakinthia festival. The first day they would mourn his death, and the last two they would celebrate his resurrection.

[imnova]

@oldpinghai thanks love! Though I am not sure I deserve it. I remembered basically every detail (that it was a Spartan boy they were fighting over, how Boreas killed him, that the boy got turned into a flower)...and had to google Hyacinth's name anyway. You'd think that was the major thing to know!!! Glad you think my headcanon makes sense, by the way.

Stackednatural- 283/327

Bloodlines (9x20) April 29th, 2014

[dindjarindiaries]

For soft Din thoughts:

Din loves getting gifts. Small things, trinkets, souvenirs, stuff that tells him you think of him wherever you are.

It’s not about the things per se, Maker knows the child has given him rocks and scrap metal for a lifetime and he still hoards them. It’s about how someone knows him enough and loves him enough to think “Din Djarin deserves something” or “My cyare will love this”.

And don’t get me wrong, Din loves the utilitarian gifts, those knew gloves have been lifesavers. But the things that are non-essential in the Spartan life he leads? The sweets and flowers? The recording of a song the two of you danced somewhere in this galaxy? The scented candles or the extra blankets? Those are love. Pure and simple. He wants to shout into the void of the galaxies you traverse “Look at this, look at this precious being who chose me to think about, to care about.”

Maybe it’s a way of telling his parents who turned into dust so long ago that their boy is finally happy.

THAT ENDING LINE? HELLO??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

This is 100000% true. I firmly believe gift giving is one of Din’s top love languages, if not the first. He would be the type to load up the control area of the Crest with little trinkets that mean different things to him.

[qiankunfics]

JohnKun Masterlist Part 3

AO3: 

1. snowflake. by softsuna

Summary: kun waits for johnny Rating: General Status: One-Shot

2. Heart Attack! by Aoba_boba

Summary: Four times Kun attacks Johnny's heart and the one time it's the other way around: Rating: General Status: One-Shot

3. Cream Heroes by criesmom

Summary: Johnny has been watching Cream Heroes cat videos for a year now, but he won't let his love of the mystery cat owner get in the way of his pursuit of the cute boy in his literature class. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

4. you could say i'm... 'kinky' by ThirteenthMouse6572

Summary:  "Yeah, I'm kinky. My kink is you getting all the love and attention you deserve." Rating: General Status:  One-Shot

5. 내 아버지 (my father)

Summary: in which johnny seo's son is developing into a problem child, and he's building quite a rapport with the boy's teacher - after all, they might as well be friends if they're seeing each other so often. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

6. darkened nights and violent things by sekaijuu

Summary: Sure, being an omega professor at an all-alpha boys-only boarding school wasn't Kun's definition of ideal, but the pay was enough to support him and his cat and so he deemed it alright. Rating: Mature Status: On-Going

7. I Think About It 24/7 by lunalius

Summary: Kun wakes up hungover in a familiar bed. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

8. Piano Forte by tennisuhs

Summary:  Kun did mistakes, like any other. He'd build himself up over and once again, but this time he was willing to hold onto a helping hand. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

9. Tale as Old as Time by makbaes (gentlemindedlostgirl)

Summary: Kun doesn't have much energy to properly parent his sons, Donghyuck and Chenle. Thankfully for him, his husband Johnny tells them one hell of a bedtime story. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

10. A October Breeze

Summary: Every one thinks Johnny is a bad boy, but Kun discovers that he's more than the rumours people say about him. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

11. flower language gang by sunlariums

Summary: Sicheng is curious about Kun's tattoos. Kun indulges him for a story. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

12. Cardiac Arrest by lunalius

Summary: Kun is concerned about the regular that shows up at least five times a day to order a double strength large long black. Or he's attracted to him. Or both. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

13. Try out fireworks by tennisuhs

Summary: Chenle's dad always comes to pick him up a tad late, but that's fine because his favourite teacher plays him songs on the piano and hugs him if he is scared. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

14. a little help never hurt by softsuna

Summary: Sure, he had an idea that it wouldn't be the most accommodating circumstance in the world, but hey, he's Superman, how bad could it be? Rating: Genneral Status: One-Shot

15. need you all up in my veins

Summary: Johnny has a constant cycle in his life and he's happy that Kun is in it. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

16. Warm by criesmom

Summary: Johnny didn't expect to meet the love of his life in Ten's bathroom Rating: General Status: One-Shot

17. Several Drinks Later by jokheiz

Summary: After two years of being college roommates Johnny had finally (somehow) convinced Kun to go to a party. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

18. of peach and vanilla by RedamancyEffect

Summary: after mating, youngho and kun finally get to the bedroom. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

19. Woke Up In Japan (1:27 AM) by kyungsco

Summary: It's that time of the year again—yes, it's another trip to Osaka for SMTown, and this time, Kun and Johnny are sharing a hotel room. Which shouldn't be too bad, if only Kun doesn't secretly want to suck his roommate's dick. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

20. Happenstance by lunalius

Summary: Johnny, single father of one, gets another parent to look after Donghyuck in the playground while he has to rush home on a work errand. And Donghyuck makes a new friend. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

21. it beats for you so listen close by heartsighed

Summary: In which Johnny moonlights as Y, one half of the mysterious duo that runs the most popular radio program on campus, and Kun moonlights as Twitter user zhoujielunshusband96, dedicated Jay Chou fanboy. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

22. saturday boy

Summary: johnny is learning mandarin - kun and sicheng are not aware Rating: General Status: One-Shot

23. serendipity by softsuna

Summary: johnny can't sleep Rating: General Status: One-Shot

AO3 Collection: 

24. Jisung's Adventurous Adventures by owzy

Summary: Johnny and Kun as Jisung’s parents. 

25. spring, summer (and everything in between) by tentography

Summary: Johnny and Kun were schoolmates, now Johnny is famous. 

26. the new normal by tophaehae

Summary: Established JohnKun family. 

27. neighbours au by umiwomitai

Summary: Johnny and Kun are neighbours.    

Twitter: 

28. https://twitter.com/19250520x/status/1320500019326140416 

Summary: Johnkun use to be penpals until Johnny ghosted Kun.  Status: On-going

29. Omphalos by singledadjohnny

Summary: Athens is rising to power, and a gung-ho Athenian athlete/playwright likes to brag about it and himself. The Spartan warrior he defeated in the Olympic Games does not like this. Status: Completed 

30. https://twitter.com/realitysuh/status/1347624485806080001

Summary: Drabble about how Kun’s sneaks a papaya into their fridge. 

31.https://twitter.com/kittyong/status/1318017134916734977

Summary: Johnny and Kun are. 

[my-name-is-apollo]

There is no one original version of this story (or any Greek myth), the myth is retold by different authors in their works. One detailed accounts is given by Ovid in his Metamorphoses, there are descriptions of artworks of Hyacinthus done by Philostratus the elder and Philostratus the younger. (I've linked to the translation of their work, so give it a read if you can, those 3 are my favorite)

Some other sources are:

Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 1. 16 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"Aphrodite, furious with [the Muse] Kleio (Clio). . . caused her to fall in love with Magnes' son Pieros (Pierus). As a result of their union she bore him a son Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus). Thamyris, son of Philammon and the Nymphe Argiope, the first male to love other males, fell in love with Hyakinthos. Later on Apollon, who also loved him, accidentally killed him with a discus."

Hesiod, Catalogues of Women Fragment 102 (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C8th or 7th B.C.) :

". . rich-tressed Diomede; and she bare Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus), the blameless one and strong . . .whom, on a time Phoibos (Phoebus) [Apollon] himself slew unwittingly with a ruthless disk."

Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 3. 116 (trans. Aldrich) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"Amyklas (Amyclas) and Lapithes' daughter Diomede had Kynortes (Cynortes) and Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus). They tell how this Hyakinthos was loved by Apollon, who accidentally killed him while hurling a discus."

Bion, Poems 11 (trans. Edmonds) (Greek bucolic C2nd to 1st B.C.) :

"When he beheld thy [Hyakinthos'] agony Phoibos (Phoebus) [Apollon] was dumb. He sought every remedy, he had recourse to cunning arts, he anointed all the wound, anointed it with ambrosia and with nectar; but all remedies are powerless to heal the wounds of Fate."

Pausanias, Description of Greece 3. 1. 3 (trans. Jones) (Greek travelogue C2nd A.D.) :

"Amyklas (Amyclas), son of Lakedaimon (Lacedaemon), wished to leave some memorial behind him, and built [Amyklai (Amyclae)] a town in Lakonia. Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus), the youngest and most beautiful of his sons, died before his father, and his tomb is in Amyklai below the image of Apollon. On the death of Amyklas the empire came to Aigalos (Aegalus), the eldest of his sons, and afterwards, when Aigalos died, to Kynortas (Cynortas). Kynortas had a son Oibalos (Oebalus)."

Plutarch, Numa 4 :

And therefore it is no mistake when the ancient poets tell their tales of the love Apollo bore Phorbas, Hyacinthus, and Admetus, as well as the Sicyonian Hippolytus also, of whom it is said, that, as often as he set out to sail from Sicyon to Cirrha, the Pythian priestess, as though the god knew of his coming and rejoiced

Colluthus, Rape of Helen 240 ff (trans. Mair) (Greek poetry C5th to 6th A.D.) :

"The shrine of Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus) [at Amyklai (Amyclae) in Lakedaimonia], whom once while he played as a boy with Apollon the people of Amyklai marked and marvelled whether he too had not been conceived and borne by Leto to Zeus. But Apollon knew not that he was keeping the youth for envious Zephyros (the West Wind). And the earth, doing a pleasure to the weeping king, brought forth a flower to console Apollon, even that flower which bears the name of the splendid youth."

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 2. 80 ff (trans. Rouse) (Greek epic C5th A.D.) :

"The fresh-flowering garden was laid waste [by a storm], the rosy meadows withered; Zephyros (the West Wind) was beaten by the dry leaves of whirling cypresses. Phoibos (Phoebus) [Apollon] sang a dirge in lamentable tones for his devastated iris (hyakinthos), twining a sorrowful song, and lamented far more bitterly than for his clusters of Amyklaian (Amyclaean) flowers, when the laurel by his side was struck."

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 3. 153 ff :

"On the learned leaves of Apollon's mournful iris [i.e. the flower of Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus)] was embroidered many a plant-grown word; and when Zephyros (the West Wind) breathed through the flowery garden, Apollon turned a quick eye upon his young darling, his yearning never satisfied; if he saw the plant beaten by the breezes, he remembered the quoit, and trembled for fear the wind, so jealous once about the boy, might hate him even in a leaf: if it is true that Apollon once wept with those eyes that never wept, to see that boy writhing in the dust, and the pattern there on the flower traced its own ‘alas!’ on the iris, and so figured the tears of Phoibos (Phoebus)."

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 10. 253 ff :

"The deathbringing breath of Zephyros might blow again, as it did once before when the bitter blast killed a young man while it turned the hurtling quoit against Hyakinthos."

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 11. 362 ff :

"A young Lakonian [Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus)] shook Zephyros (the West Wind); but he died, and the amorous Wind found young Kyparissos (Cyparissus) a consolation for Amyklaian Hyakinthos."

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 29. 95 ff :

"Apollon bemoaned Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus), struck by the quoit which brought him quick death, and reproached the blast of Zephyros (the West Wind's) jealous gale."

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 29. 101 ff :

Send me here Phoibos our brother, who knows the art of healing all pains, and he will make the boy whole. But stay, my voice! Leave Phoibos undisturbed in Olympos, or I may provoke him by recalling the wound of his beloved Hyacinthos.

Claudian, Rape of Proserpine 2. 130 ff (trans. Platnauer) (Roman poetry C4th A.D.) :

"[Persephone and her nymphs gather flowers :] Thee also, Hyacinthus, they gather, thy flower inscribed with woe, and Narcissus too--once lovely boys, now the pride of flowering spring. Thou, Hyacinthus, wert born at Amyclae, Narcissus was Helicon's child; thee the errant discus slew; him love of his stream-reflected face beguiled; for thee weeps Delos' god [Apollon] with sorrow-weighted brow; for him Cephisus with his broken reeds."

Pseudo-Hyginus, Fabulae 271 (trans. Grant) (Roman mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"Youths who were most handsome. Adonis, son of Cinyras and Smyrna, whom Venus [Aphrodite] loved. Endymion, son of Aetolus, whom Luna [Selene] loved. Ganymede, son of Erichthonius, whom Jove [Zeus] loved. Hyacinthus, son of Oebalus, whom Apollo loved. Narcissus, son of the river Cephisus, who loved himself . . ."

Euripides, Helen 1441:

It may be thou wilt find the daughters of Leucippus beside the brimming river or before the temple of Pallas, when at last with dance and revelry thou joinest in the merry midnight festival of Hyacinthus, him whom Phoebus slew in the lists by a quoit hurled o'er the mark; wherefore did the son of Zeus ordain that Laconia's land should set apart that day for sacrifice;

Tatian, Adress to the Greeks 8 :

Let the far-shooting god tell me how Zephyrus slew Hyacinthus. Zephyrus conquered him; and in accordance with the saying of the tragic poet: "A breeze is the most honourable chariot of the gods," - conquered by a slight breeze, Apollo lost his beloved.

Philostratus, Heroica 7.30 :

He used to sing of the ancient comrades, Hyacinthus and Narcissus, and something about Adonis.

Greek Anthology 9.751 Plato The Younger :

The stone is Hyacinthus, and on it are Apollo and Daphne. Of which was Apollo rather the lover?

Oppian Of Apamea, Cynegetica Or The Chase 1.300 :

the Laconians contrived a subtle device for their dear wives when they are pregnant. Near them they put pictures of beautiful forms, even the youths that aforetime were resplendent among mortal men, Nireus and Narcissus and Hyacinthus of the goodly ashen spear, and Castor with his helmet, and Polydeuces that slew Amycus, and the youthful twain who are admired among the blessed gods, laurel-crowned Phoebus and Dionysus of the ivy wreath. And the women rejoice to behold their lovely form and, fluttered by their beauty, bear beautiful sons.

Nonnus, Dionysiaca 19. 102 ff :

Apollo brought to life again his longhaired Hyacinthos: Staphylos will be made to live for aye by Dionysos.

Pausanias, Description of Greece 3. 19. 3 - 5 :

"[In the temple of Apollon at Amyklai (Amyclae) :] The pedestal of the statue [of Apollon] is fashioned into the shape of an altar and they say that Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus) is buried in it, and at the Hyakinthia (Hyacinthia), before the sacrifice to Apollon, they devote offerings to Hyakinthos as to a hero into this altar through a bronze door, which is on the left of the altar. On the altar are wrought in relief Demeter, the Maid, Plouton, next to them Fates and Seasons, and with them Aphrodite, Athena and Artemis. They are carrying to heaven Hyacinthus and Polyboea, the sister, they say, of Hyacinthus, who died a maid. Now this statue of Hyacinthus represents him as bearded, but Nikias (Nicias) [painter fl. c. 320 B.C.], son of Nikomedes, has painted him [Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus)] in the very prime of youthful beauty, hinting at the love of Apollon for Hyakinthos of which legend tells . . . As for Zephyros (the West Wind), how Apollon unintentionally killed Hyakinthos, and the story of the flower, we must be content with the legends"

Colluthus, Rape of Helen 240 ff (trans. Mair) (Greek poetry C5th to 6th A.D.) :

"The shrine of Hyakinthos [i.e. at Amyklai]."

About the festival celebrated in the honor of Hyacinthus:

Ovid, Metamorphoses 10. 218 (trans. Brookes More) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.) :

"And Sparta certainly is proud to honor Hyacinthus as her son; and his loved fame endures; and every year they celebrate his solemn festival."

Pausanias, Description of Greece 3. 10. 1 :

"[The historic Spartan general] Agesilaus again marched with an army against Korinthos (Corinth) [late 4th B.C.], and, as the festival Hyakinthia (Hyacinthia) was at hand, he gave the Amyklaians (Amyclaeans) leave to go back home and perform the traditional rites in honor of Apollon and Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus)."

Pausanias, Description of Greece 4. 19. 4 :

"[During the Second Messenian War C7th B.C. :] Now the Lakedaimonians (Lacedaemonians), as the festival of Hyakinthos was approaching, made a truce of forty days with the men of Eira [in Messenia]. They themselves returned home to keep the feast."

Herodotus, Histories 9. 6 . 1 - 7. 1 (trans. Godley) (Greek historian C5th B.C.) :

"[During the historic Persian War.] They [the Athenians] also sent envoys to Lakedaimon (Lacedaemon), who were to upbraid the Lakedaimonians for permitting the barbarian to invade Attika (Attica) and not helping the Athenians to meet him in Boiotia (Boeotia) and warn them that the Athenians would devise some means of salvation for themselves if the Lakedaimonians sent them no help. The Lakedaimonians were at this time celebrating the Hyakinthia (Hyacinthia) (festival of Hyakinthos), and their chief concern was to give the god [Apollon] his due."

(Detailed account about the festival is given by Athenaeus.)

Hope that helped! 😁

HELP

Can someone please tell me where the myth of Hyacinthus and Apollo was written down? Like where is this myth from? Where can I read it not as a summary on a website? Someone help me I am losing the small amount of sanity I had left looking for the original version, not summary, of this myth. 

[stormyblue90]

Flowering

Now for something a little different...

After some very intense celebration, Kyra wakes to find Thaletas and Alexios passed out, dead to the world. Suddenly she gets a mischievous idea and decides to act on it.

No warnings! Just humor and polyamory!

Kyra x Thaletas x Alexios poly ship

The first glimmer of light began to peak over the horizon and the colossal statue to Artemis was bathed in the early purple glow of dawn. The island of Mykonos hadn't yet woken up fully, however one of the island's residents was beginning to stir.

Kyra stretched out as she began to wake with the dawn, her arm colliding with another. She looked to find both Alexios and Thaletas still sound asleep. The former sprawled out over the rugs, blankets, and pillows strewn about the floor. Thaletas was face down, half draped across Alexios, Kyra could see a tiny stream of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth onto Alexios' bare chest. Both Spartans softly snoring and seeming to have kicked the blankets off during the warm, summer night, leaving their nude forms exposed.

Guess I really wore them out, so much for that Spartan stamina... Kyra thought to herself, smirking.

The three of them had been celebrating the one year anniversary of the liberation of the Delos Islands. Though perhaps they had celebrated a bit too enthusiastically. Throughout the bedroom pillows and blankets were tossed about, a few empty amphoras of wine lie on a table, an empty jug of oil and cups haphazardly tossed about as well. Kyra also knew there was an olisbos lying around somewhere, one of them would find it later.

She stretched again, slowly waking more, and got dressed. Perhaps she'd go out for a quick hunt for some meat and prepare a nice breakfast for the two men when they woke. Kyra walked out on the balcony of the house that formerly belonged to her father-no, the monster, Podarkes. She still remembered and sometimes felt the sting from the revelation Alexios revealed to her. However after a time, she accepted that while that vile excuse of a man sired her, he was NOT her father. He was too cruel and full of hate to be anyone's father.

Kyra looked down towards the blooming flowers she planted in memory of her mother when a sudden, mischievous thought formed in her mind. She glanced back to Thaletas and Alexios, both dead to the world and likely to be for some time, and decided she'd surprise them in a different way. Kyra walked out of the room to find a small basket to gather what she needed for her plan.

Several minutes later she returned, still finding the men passed out, having not moved the slightest. Quietly Kyra crept over to the pair, softly setting down her basket, now full of various flowers in a mosaic of colors and sizes.

She picked out a few small white ones and began her delicate work, starting with Thaletas. Carefully Kyra threaded the tiny stems of the flowers into the crown braid he wore his hair in. She was thankful he didn't stir at all. Once his braid was nicely decorated with small white flowers, she went for some larger, more colorful blossoms.

Definitely some red as the central focus she thought, he IS Spartan after all...

Kyra picked out a few lovely red flowers from the basket, however she froze when she heard Alexios mumble in his sleep, believing him to be waking up.

"N-nooo....d-don't.... ish MY pom...grant...it.." he slurred, raising his hand and letting it fall with a SMACK on Thaletas' exposed backside. Thaletas only jerked his head up momentarily, but didn't wake or stir any further.

Kyra brought her hand up to cover her mouth and prevent herself from having a fit of laughter. Alexios was merely dreaming, about pomegranates it would seem. Quickly she continued her work, threading more flowers into Thaletas' braid until it resembled a full crown of flowers. Kyra looked back to her basket, still containing plenty of flowers, then to her next victim, Alexios.

It was trickier, she couldn't reach the hair on the back of his head, but Kyra was able to thread some flowers through the bronze beads in his hair she could reach. She even added a few tiny braids from the loose strands of his hair, weaving tiny flowers in them. After several minutes Alexios stirred again, only this time rolling over to his side, Thaletas slowly slipping off. Perfect! Kyra thought, now she could reach the rest of his hair and remaining beads.

Warm golden rays beamed from the windows as the city finally began to wake. A particularly bright sunbeam hit Alexios in the face, disturbing him from sleep. He groaned in complaint as he slowly began to wake. Alexios sat up, rubbing his tired eyes, and smacking his tongue in his mouth, the taste of last night's wine still there, only now it possessed a soured taste. The mild headache didn't help his hangover either, but he didn't regret a single moment of the previous night. Though he didn't expect Kyra to be so... vigorous.

Sleepily he searched amongst the blankets and pillows for his tunic to dress himself. Instead his hand collided with a snoring Thaletas. Alexios looked towards him, blinking several times and shaking his head trying to wake himself further. What he was seeing had to be a dream right? He was still asleep wasn't he?

Before him Thaletas was crowned by dozens of flowers. Alexios snorted, half suppressing his laughter, but it was enough to stir Thaletas. Groggily he awoke and Alexios tried to steel himself and act like nothing was amiss. The sight before him was too hilarious to ruin, and he wanted to know how long it would take for Thaletas to notice.

"Ugh...headache..." Thaletas mumbled, wiping off the dried drool from the corner of his mouth. "Remind me to NEVER drink that much again...or underestimate Kyra."

"I think she gives most Spartans a run for their drachmae with her...vigor. Or maybe she was blessed by Aphrodite herself." Alexios replied. "Ugh, still sore..."

Both men looked to where they believed Kyra would be sleeping, but found her gone.

"Maybe she went hunting?" Alexios suggested.

"Maybe-PFFT" Thaletas cut himself off as he surpressed a snicker.

"What?" Alexios turned back to him.

"Nothing...nothing at all. Uhm, where are my clothes?"

Both men wanted to see how long the other would last until they found out about the flowers in their hair. They did everything they could to not laugh or make any humorous comments as they dressed and headed down stairs

They found Kyra, placing a bowl of fresh fruit on the dining table.

"Good morning boys." she greeted. "You two certainly slept...very well."

"We have you to thank for that." Thaletas responded.

"Or curse..." Alexios added, grabbing an apple from the bowl.

"What can I say? I like to have fun, and good wine." Kyra said, smiling.

As he began to munch on some grapes, Thaletas ran his hand through his hair, attempting to smooth out the bedhead he no doubt had. It was then he felt something odd. Kyra bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep herself from smiling or making a noise.

Thaletas pulled out a tiny yellow flower, puzzled. "What the-"

Suddenly Alexios burst out laughing, as did Kyra. They couldn't hold it back any longer after seeing the bewildered expression on Thaletas' face.

"WHAT! H-how!"

"HAHA! I was waiting for you to notice!" Alexios said in-between laughs.

"WHAT! Alexios you-" Thaletas growled, "You're one to talk Eagle Bearer! Look at YOUR hair!"

Alexios raised an eyebrow as he felt his own hair, discovering flowers woven in to it as well.

"What- MALAKA!" he exclaimed as he pulled a bright pink flower from his hair.

Both men pulled a few more flowers out of their hair as Kyra kept laughing hysterically. The pair immediately looked towards her, miffed looks on their faces. It was then Kyra took off, out of the house in the city.

"KYRAAA!!!!" both yelled, as they stumbled to run after her, flowers still in their hair.

Neither noticed the snickers coming from the townsfolk as they watched two men, crowned in dozens of flowers, chase after the city's new leader, all the while laughing hysterically to herself. Somehow they'd find a way to get her back for such a prank.

[author-morgan]

Kryptic ↟ Deimos

nineteen - fanning the flames

masterlist

But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last.

Death submits to no one, not even Dread and Destruction.

They are both weapons of flesh and bone, of warm blood and beating hearts, and they cannot be controlled.

ANTHOUSA GLANCES AROUND the Spring of Peirene with a caution. It is not only the Monger’s spies she must watch for, but prying eyes belonging to Kosmos as well. Korinth is a gold mine of information from across Hellas and among the prime brokers are the city’s famed hetaerae. Anthousa has seen too many of her girls fall, though, and stopping the Monger was only the one part of ridding Korinthia of corruption. 

Lesya knows what must be done, even if Kassandra is hesitant about becoming too involved with Korinthian affairs when the Cult still hunts her mother. “We have to put out their eyes!” she hisses and Anthousa nods her agreement. Cutting off the supply line of information would leave the Cult blind and vulnerable. It would take years for them to reestablish the same scale of network for trading secrets. 

The Eagle Bearer will hear no more from the hetaera, instead, she turns from the spring and to the city —intent on finding a weakness in the defenses around the Monger’s warehouse. “Two of my girls are missing,” Anthousa says quietly, already fearing the worst. “We’ve heard rumors of where they are in the city, though.” The rumors speak of a vile and sadistic place, one where few leave with their lives. Lesya looks over her shoulder —Kassandra is already gone. 

“Tell me,” she starts, knowing she will enjoy thwarting the Monger’s plans. “I’ll see them to safety.” Finding the Abron House north of the Temple of Apollo is easy enough. Deciding whether to use stealth to her advantage or create a bloodbath is less so. The home is heavily guarded —too many to take at once when she can hear strangled cries coming from within the villa. 

Dropping down between a line of flowering hedges, Lesya prowls along in the shadows. Ahead is a guard, his armored shadow visible over the hedge-line. Pausing behind the armed guard, she springs to her feet —covering his mouth and thrusting one of her blades into his neck before dragging the corpse back into the thick foliage. 

Another shout leads her deeper into the compound, sliding along walls and shadows —quickly dispatching those standing in her path. By the time she reaches the source of the muffled shouts and screams, a trail of blood and bodies lie in her wake. They never saw her coming. Never stood a chance. 

The man looming over the two hetaerae brandishes a small whip with a dozen leather tails. Their faces are bloody, arms covered with purple welts. He does not notice the approaching shadow until it is too late. One of the girls screams when she sees the blood-slicked blade emerge from their tormentor’s chest. He drops the whip, sliding to his knees —gasping for air and struggling to stem the blood sluicing down his front. Pitiful wheezing turns silent when Lesya sheathes the bloody blade, gripping both sides of his head and twisting until there is a crack and pop. The Monger’s puppet falls forward, dead. 

Kneeling between the young girls, Lesya slices the ropes on their wrists and ankles. “Can you both stand?” Both girls nod. “Walk?” Another nod. If it meant freedom, they would run. They both stand, steadying each other. “Here–” Lesya presses two short knives into their trembling hands —taken from the torturer’s corpse. There are still guards patrolling the property and only one exit from the Abron House. “You both need to run, but just in case, stick them in the soft bits,” she tells the girls while reaching behind her to draw the second blade on her back. 

She leads the way, past the destruction and devastation, but gathered in the courtyard are several of the guards —standing over a corpse of their brethren. Lesya lurches into battle without hesitation, carving a narrow path to freedom, but the girls do not take the opportunity. Growling, she grips onto the spear lance of one brute and thrusts it forward into the neck of another. With a tight spin and she takes another’s head. 

Lesya leaps over to cut the flank of one guard who is locked in combat with the nearest girl, then spins to chop clean through the shin of another. “Go,” she shouts at the girls, stabbing a finger toward the Temple of Aphrodite. “Get back to Anthousa.” The girls blink through tears, nodding and scrambling away, mouthing words of gratitude. She throws one of her blades into the back of the brute attempting to pursue them. 

The distraction and opening earn her a bloody lip and nose. Spitting, she picks up both her blades and glances around at the six thugs encircling her, laughing. I’ve missed this she thinks before charging toward one of the brutes with a feral cry —dodging his blow and slicing a deep line up his back. Finally, a challenge. 

KASSANDRA IGNORES THE wail of pain when Lesya bashes the last of the Monger’s men’s head in against the corner of a wooden crate —a splatter of blood and brain erupting. Her attention remains on Brasidas, a Spartan General who had met them in the blazing warehouse, though he is taken by the display of brutality and how familiar it feels. Shaking his head, Brasidas returns his focus to the Eagle Bearer and the discussion of how the Monger should be dealt with. “Do this discretely,” the Spartan beseeches. 

The clatter of iron on stone draws both their attention back to the crackling embers and billowing smoke. Lesya cracks her knuckles, appearing next to the pair of Spartans. Her face is contorted with ire —the Monger does not deserve a quick death. “The Monger should be strung up for all Korinth to see,” she grits out, “he deserves to suffer for all the pain he’s caused.” If she had her way, Lesya would flay him alive —the same torture he used on hetaera who would not speak against Anthousa. 

“Lesya,” Kassandra warns, her voice low —dangerous even. When her gaze returns to Brasidas, she is surprised to see a pallor has washed over his face and now there is deep-seated hatred in his dark eyes. “I know you,” he starts, fingers flexing at the thought of brandishing his spear. “You’re one of the ghosts my men speak of.” He has witnessed firsthand the carnage left behind when Dread and Destruction strike. “You’ve killed dozens of Spartans!” The general spits, venomous. 

Her laugh is derisive. “Have I?” Lesya mocks. “I thought it was hundreds by now.”

Brasidas comes to close to losing his composure —the pallor on his cheeks is gone, replaced by Spartan red. Kassandra’s head snaps in Lesya’s direction, her face pinched with anger. “Leave,” the Eagle Bearer hisses from behind clenched teeth. 

Seething, Lesya walks away from the pair and is stopped by a ragged-looking boy —skinny and pale. “He says,” the boy starts, voice trembling, “come meet him in the Sacred Cave under the temple to end it.”

THE DENIZENS OF Korinthia wake to a dark pall of smoke. They emerge from their homes, nervous and shy, then confused when they hear the spreading rumors: the dockside warehouse had burned to the ground in the night. More, all have been summoned to the theater that day —which had been closed ever since the Monger took the reins of the city. Slowly, they began trusting the heralds who repeat the summons. By noon, the theater is filled, with more on the nearby rooftops and higher streets, peering at the stage.

The Spartan General left soon after the warehouse was set alight —returning to Sparta to carry the news to the two kings. When you do this, Kassandra he had said, throw the Monger’s bones into the water and let that be the end. But Lesya would not let it end like that. She tied a rope around the brute’s ankles, parading his corpse through the streets to the theater. 

An orator strolls across the stage, telling all the city is once again free. Voices rise in confusion and disbelief, many looking around to be sure that this is not a ruse by the brute to weed out dissenters. Kassandra watches from the stage as Lesya appears at the top of the steps splitting the theater in two, beginning a slow descent for the people to see. 

A collective and horrified intake of thousands of breaths brought silence as she strode forward, pulling a mangled corpse —both covered in blood. Behind her, Anthousa follows with her head high despite her pleas for a public execution. Lesya drags the Monger onto the stage and throws the rope over the lintel above her. With a great heave, she hoists the corpse up and secures the rope around one of the timber frames. The brute sways for a time, then slows, hanging at a standstill —drops of blackened blood still dripping from his mouth and wounds. 

Masses surge into wails of joy as Anthousa takes the stage, repeating what the orator had already proclaimed, but coming from her honeyed voice somehow feels different. Kassandra glances at Lesya —shocked to find a cruel, maniacal smile twisting her lips, but the hetaera moves to her side, leaning in. “Your mother sailed from here on the Siren Song,” said Anthousa over the crowd, “she traveled to the Cyclades.” 

STORM CLOUDS GATHER over the city, turning the seas inhospitable. Ikaros had only just returned before the downpour began, bearing news from Barnabas. Even with the rough storm, the Adrestia is still set to arrive before the day’s end. Though now the Eagle Bearer and Lesya sit atop Anthousa’s home. All Korinthia is indebted to them, it was the least the hetaera could offer —shelter, a warm meal, and a bath. Kassandra still wears her worn leathers, but Lesya’s blood-soaked chiton had been taken to wash and is replaced by a thin lilac peplos. The misthios cannot help but notice it is a good color for Lesya’s laurel eyes and copper hair. 

Events from the night and morning replay in Kassandra’s head —reminding her of Enyo and the destruction and death she wrought upon the Monger and his men. But now, sitting across from a low brazier, she believes Lesya looks tired and broken. Killing Chrysis and desecrating the Monger’s corpse had brought peace for only a few moments until it faded back to hatred and longing. “What did they do to you?” She dares ask. The scars upon her flesh speak of the horrors even if they do not tell the complete story. 

Lesya laughs, a low, dark rumbling from deep in her throat as she recalls every horrid thing the Cult had ever done. “What didn’t they do?” She counters. A moment passes, the bitterness and anger consuming her turn to pain. She wants to cry and scream, but Enyo will not let her. “Have you ever dreamt of a simple life, Kassandra?” The Eagle Bearer hesitates but gives a slow nod —she has thought of one many times and how different things may have been if not for that night on Taygetos. 

“A small home in the countryside or by the sea.” Lesya muses, sadness in her voice and a distant look in her eyes. “Children laughing. Teaching them how to hunt and fish.” Kassandra nods again. “It was my dream too. Ever since I was a little girl.” Kalanthe always said she would make a good mother one day, but that had been before the Cult sunk their talons into her, twisting and molding —creating a weapon. 

“Even after my father gave me to the Cult, I held onto a shred of hope that one day I could have a simple life.” The closest she’s come to the dream again had been that night with Deimos on the beach. She squeezes her laurel eyes shut. We should have stayed on that beach she tells herself over and over, a single tear running down her cheek. “They took that dream from me,” Lesya grits out, nails digging into her palms. And now I will take life from them.

Kassandra’s dark eyes widen upon the realization of what had been done. The Eagle Bearer glances at her own hands, feeling a wave of sympathy for the disgraced champion. She knew the Cult was cruel, but that, she could not begin to imagine the pain. Lesya watches Kass’ expression shift, her frown turns to rage in a heartbeat. “I don’t want your pity, misthios,” she spits. 

Lightning flashes across the dark sky. Kassandra rises, moving toward the staircase leading back down to the night’s festivities. She looks over her shoulder before descending. “We sail at dawn,” she announces. Kassandra cannot be sure if she will see Lesya aboard the Adrestia come the morn. 

@jaegers-and-kaijus @wallsarecrumbling @novastale

[libidomechanica]

The Carian wing

Rose-mesh pulled mine’s one but than I.     Whole acrosses are. Into tear to give us invade     a Lady. The found his resurrect to life! Then have to     perish away! To keep

our upstairs, now, Hidalgo, free     from this is dance, too, as I swear, Tis but slow, seeing thee     to passed me. Did its onion one may be. Elsewhere the night     of Donna Inez quite

a piece might with charming, madly     minds admit. That you might died: yet abhorr’d: Thou my neigh—no     dull, uninspir’d?—The enterest disgraces if we found     the moon for so, but some

supreme authentice few are lady,     said she had it went away! No stairs neither, by his     turn’d, withdrew in deface too well neighbouring each the flown,     and when perverted by

their streamingly weeping, a     thunderneath such an hostel, call, in a day! On their flowers,     like thinks those and dreaming somehow, as we walk to play’d to     longed stand—neath him to praised

to his verse aloft riding throughts     like silly roof, so rash of youth shadow’d horn, therefore,—and     the cherisheth it gentle birds were ye even after     dreamer which reasons were

than wolves would rejoice keen entance,     to whom those figure affection most norther spie, notes in     a white agree made me, lo! And you, time shepherds is true     love found think the blue. The

Carian wing.—I seem’d, be quotating     a huntsmen’s eye. Said one should arraigne of thyself almost     create his thy land: the torches which her own rest’? Whether     over; and in a

grove and in person’s married I     forgotten in the ice- cold; her babe frosted in and shadow:     now reply, Thespial. Night be cast have even often     doth her Oriental

walls; and so say I; by due; when     did repelling, and goddess groan’d, that much heaven the dead,     quick, rose-blooming earth have birds burning restling man, when native     Spartan dead, return’d,

and to lull according and all     live burning sad, its vinest!— And thou, my luve o’ the river     sight the last abhorr’d. Lambro’s visions now, that I forget     and Campbell’s Hippocrene

farrow and hangings to     another live even the later song, for the dance with grievous     see. Well feel to Virgin’s a stranger, even on the     day next day;-surprise famous

pain! With me to saying of     them nearly incline vpon the study Nature; they states, whilst,     life? So in an ox. Of as floating her painful freight please     man shall but fading belle

dame sans mercy he look athway,     is best in a circlings have spoils them, and bear white way to     beye, feature was sleep in my boy. The endure to roam, this     real bandage melody

wed, my father husband’s unknown:     i’m almost unluckily, or hear, the sweet to thy     delicately, that Juan was sure groans, with spirit bear no     The light thus gratify?

[life-after-bang]

You’re right! Non-Aurora boys need some love too! What about general relationship hcs for Ulman? (I’m still bummed out by Last Light’s ending т-т)

[Of course, as they say, I can write that all day! I relate to this - although LL is my favorite part, its ending is heartbreaking and still makes me wanna cry!💔]

Ulman relationship headcanons

• Around Ulman you’ll feel yourself like a princess, cause he’ll do his best for you, and he would gladly be your knight of the underground. At least, he would like you to think that way.

• His confession is gonna be awkward. He’ll inform about his feelings among other jokes, and at first you won’t understand if he’s serious.

• He’s into giving nicknames. He’ll call you Sleeping Beauty in the morning, Mona Lisa if sees you lost in thoughts, Chingachgook if you are too active and etc.

• He likes playing with the tips of your hair with his fingers.

• He’s a big romantic at heart. Candles at “home”, tea to bed at morning, little gifts from sallies when possible, slow dances in the silence, things like that.

• Lots of cuddles with this guy. It also calms him, when you press yourself to his back while you two sleep.

• He likes it when you call him by name, when you are one on one. 

• There’s no way to find any flowers or  bouquets here, so he’ll get you a plant in the pot from the “plantations”, ignoring all restrictions. It may seem childish, but he’ll certainly do it to make you smile.

• Many Spartans get annoyed by his humor sometimes and send him “to hell" as Miller did, but you absolutely love this feature of his. You are admired by his ability to maintain this positivity in such terrible times you live in.

• He won’t mind playing strip cards. You gonna see a grin on his face many times.

• There will be little quarrels from time to time, but he has an easy appeased character and will calm down as quickly as he starts up.

• Some of his remarks will make you blush as he likes seeing your face turning red.

• When it comes to intimacy, he’s passionate, a bit teasing, but soft. He won’t drive fast and will wait til you feel comfortable around him at first.

• In relationship he’s not possessive and will give you as much personal space as needed.

• Although nobody could say that about him, he’s a sensitive person and if he finds you cheating or playing with his feelings, it will break his heart.