#queen of cyprus

[royalty-nobility]

Portrait of Caterina Cornaro, Queen of Cyprus

Artist: Manner of Titian (Italian, 1490–1576)

Genre: Portrait

Date: Between 1500 and 1600

Medium: Oil on Panel

Collection: National Trust

Catherine Cornaro (25 November 1454 – 10 July 1510) was the last monarch of the Kingdom of Cyprus, also holding the titles of Queen of Jerusalem and Queen of Armenia. She became queen consort of Cyprus by marriage to James II of Cyprus, and then regent of Cyprus during the minority of her son James III of Cyprus in 1473–1474, and finally queen regnant of Cyprus upon his death. She reigned from 26 August 1474 to 26 February 1489 and was declared a "Daughter of Saint Mark" in order that the Republic of Venice could claim control of Cyprus after the death of her husband.

[modern-greek-history]

Stamp of Queen Elizabeth II, featuring the Arms of Byzantium, Lusignan, Ottoman Empire and Venice.

Instead of destroying the stamps, they continued to circulate after Cyprus declared independence from the United Kingdom in 1960, with the term for "Republic of Cyprus", printed on top in both Greek (ΚΥΠΡΙΑΚΗ ΔΗΜΟΚΡΑΤΙΑ) and Turkish (Kıbrıs Cumhuriyeti)

Γραμματόσημο με την μορφή της Βασίλισσας Ελισάβετ Β΄ και των εμβημάτων της Βυζαντινής και Οθωμανικής Αυτοκρατορίας, του γαλλικού οίκου Λουζινιάν και της Βενετίας.

Αντί να καταστραφούν μετά την ανακήρυξη ανεξαρτησίας της Κύπρου από το Ηνωμένο Βασίλειο το 1960, αποφασίστηκε να συνεχιστεί η κυκλοφορία τους με τις επιγραφές ΚΥΠΡΙΑΚΗ ΔΗΜΟΚΡΑΤΙΑ στα ελληνικά και Kıbrıs Cumhuriyeti στα τουρκικά

[pucksandpower]

Find Me Again

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Alexandria, 30 BC

The scorching Egyptian sun beats down on Alexandria as you hurry through the bustling streets, your sandals slapping against the warm stone. The air is thick with tension — whispers of Octavian’s approaching army have the city on edge. But your mind is elsewhere, focused on the stolen moments you’ll soon share with Lando.

You slip into a secluded alleyway, heart racing as you spot his familiar silhouette. Lando’s face lights up when he sees you, though worry creases his brow.

“There you are,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You melt into his embrace, savoring his warmth. “I’m sorry I’m late. The palace has been in chaos with all the rumors flying about.”

Lando’s arms tighten around you. “It’s true then? Octavian draws near?”

You nod against his chest. “I fear so. Cleopatra grows more desperate by the day.”

He pulls back, cupping your face in his calloused hands. His dark eyes search yours intently. “Come away with me,” he pleads. “We can leave the city tonight, find passage on a ship bound for Greece or Cyprus.”

Your heart aches at the longing in his voice. “Lando, you know I can’t abandon my duty to the queen. She needs me now more than ever.”

“And what of my need for you?” Lando’s voice cracks with emotion. “Each day I’m torn between my loyalty to Rome and my love for you. I cannot bear the thought of you in danger when Octavian’s forces arrive.”

You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. “My brave soldier,” you murmur. “Always trying to protect me. But I’ve survived far worse than regime changes. We’ll find a way through this, as we always do.”

Lando leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. “I wish I had your optimism. Every time I close my eyes, I see visions of you lying lifeless amidst the chaos of battle.”

A chill runs down your spine despite the oppressive heat. “Don’t speak of such things,” you chide gently. “We make our own fate, remember?”

He sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. “I know. I just ... I can’t shake this feeling of impending doom. Promise me you’ll be careful, my love. Promise you’ll do whatever it takes to stay safe.”

“I promise,” you whisper, sealing the vow with a tender kiss.

Lando responds eagerly, drawing you closer as the kiss deepens. For a blissful moment, the world fades away and there is only the two of you, lost in each other’s embrace.

A distant shout breaks the spell. You reluctantly pull away, both breathing heavily.

“I should go,” you murmur regretfully. “Cleopatra will be wondering where I’ve disappeared to.”

Lando nods, though he doesn’t release you from his arms. “When can I see you again?”

You bite your lip, considering. “Three days from now, at sunset. Meet me by the lighthouse?”

“I’ll be there,” he vows solemnly. “Be safe, my love.”

With a final lingering kiss, you slip from his embrace and hurry back towards the palace. Your heart feels lighter despite the looming threats, buoyed by Lando’s love and the promise of your next rendezvous.

But fate, it seems, has other plans.

The next few days pass in a blur of mounting tension. Cleopatra grows increasingly erratic, oscillating between grandiose plans to seduce Octavian and talks of ending her own life. You do your best to comfort and counsel her, all while stealing moments to daydream about your upcoming meeting with Lando.

On the fated evening, you’re helping Cleopatra prepare for bed when she suddenly fixates on a basket of figs brought by a servant.

“Ah, how fitting,” she muses, a strange glint in her eye. “Did you know, my dear, that the Egyptians that came before us believed figs to be the fruit of the afterlife?”

A chill runs down your spine. “My queen?”

Cleopatra waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t look so worried. I was simply contemplating the cyclical nature of life and death. Come, help me into bed.”

You obey, tucking the sheets around her with practiced ease. As you turn to leave, her hand darts out to grasp your wrist.

“Stay with me a while longer,” she implores. “I find I cannot bear to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

Your heart sinks, knowing you’ll miss your rendezvous with Lando. But duty wins out over desire. “Of course, my queen. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

Hours pass as you sit by Cleopatra’s bedside, listening to her reminisce about better days. Just as your eyelids begin to grow heavy, a commotion in the hall startles you both fully awake.

“What’s happening?” Cleopatra demands, sitting up.

Before you can answer, the doors burst open and a breathless messenger stumbles in. “My queen,” he pants, “Octavian’s army has breached the city walls!”

Cleopatra’s face hardens. “So, the end has come at last.” She turns to you, her gaze intense. “Fetch me the asp.”

Your blood runs cold. “My queen, surely there must be another way-”

“Do not argue with me!” She snaps. “I will not be paraded through Rome as Octavian’s prize. Now go, quickly!”

With a heavy heart, you hurry to retrieve the venomous snake from its hidden chamber. Your hands shake as you return, presenting the basket to Cleopatra.

She reaches for it eagerly, but pauses. Her eyes meet yours, softening slightly. “My faithful friend,” she murmurs. “You have served me well. I release you from your duties. Go, find that Roman boy of yours and flee while you still can.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “You knew?”

Cleopatra’s lips quirk in a sad smile. “I’ve always known. Now go, before it’s too late.”

Torn between duty and desire, you hesitate. In that moment of indecision, everything changes.

Cleopatra reaches for the asp, but in her haste, she knocks the basket from your hands. The snake falls to the floor, immediately striking at the nearest target … you.

Pain explodes in your ankle as the asp’s fangs sink into your flesh. You cry out, stumbling backwards.

“No!” Cleopatra wails, lunging to catch you as you fall.

The world begins to spin as the venom courses through your veins. Your last coherent thought is of Lando, waiting faithfully by the lighthouse. As darkness closes in, you pray he’ll forgive you for breaking your promise.

Hours later, Lando fights his way through the chaos of the conquered city. He charges into the palace, heedless of the danger, desperate to find you.

When he bursts into Cleopatra’s chambers, his worst fears are realized. Two bodies lie motionless on the floor — the queen and beside her ...

“No,” he chokes out, falling to his knees beside your lifeless form. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lando gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as sobs wrack his body. “You promised,” he whispers brokenly. “You promised you’d stay safe.”

But promises, like empires, are so easily broken. As the sun rises on a new era for Egypt, it sets on this chapter of your shared story. Yet even as this life ends, the seeds of the next are already taking root, waiting to bloom in another time, another place.

For true love, like the mighty Nile, cannot be contained. It flows ever onward, carving new paths through the landscape of eternity.

Pompeii, 79 AD

The ground trembles beneath your feet as you race through the chaotic streets of Pompeii. Ash rains from the sky, coating everything in a ghostly gray shroud. All around, people scream and push, desperately seeking escape from the fury of Mount Vesuvius.

“Lando!” You call out, your voice hoarse from the acrid air. “Lando, where are you?”

A hand suddenly grabs your arm, yanking you into a narrow alleyway. You whirl around, ready to fight, only to find yourself face to face with Lando. His usually immaculate toga is torn and stained with soot, his dark curls matted with ash.

“Thank the gods,” he breathes, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “I thought I’d lost you in the crowd.”

You cling to him tightly, savoring his familiar warmth amidst the chaos. “We need to get out of the city,” you say urgently. “The mountain — it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Lando nods grimly. “I know. I’ve been trying to make it to the harbor, but the roads are completely blocked. It’s madness out there.”

Another tremor rocks the ground, stronger than before. Pieces of masonry rain down from the surrounding buildings. Lando shields you with his body as you both press against the alley wall.

“We can’t stay here,” you say once the shaking subsides. “It’s not safe.”

“Nowhere is safe,” Lando replies, his eyes haunted. “But you’re right, we need to keep moving. Come on, I know another way to the docks.”

Hand-in-hand, you dash back out into the crowded street. The air grows thicker with each passing moment, making it harder to breathe. You pull the edge of your stola over your mouth and nose, squinting through the haze.

Lando leads you through a maze of side streets and back alleys, avoiding the worst of the panicked crowds. But with each turn, your hope dwindles. The mountain’s fury seems to be growing by the minute, raining down fire and ash with terrifying intensity.

As you round another corner, you come face to face with a wall of rubble blocking the entire street. Lando curses under his breath, pounding his fist against a fallen column.

“It’s no use,” he says, defeat creeping into his voice. “Every path to the harbor is cut off. We’re trapped.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Then we’ll find somewhere to wait it out. The gods won’t abandon us. We just have to have faith.”

He turns to you, a sad smile playing on his lips. “Always the optimist, aren’t you? Even in the face of certain doom.”

“One of us has to be,” you reply, managing a weak smile of your own.

Another violent tremor shakes the ground, nearly knocking you both off your feet. In the distance, you hear the ominous rumble of collapsing buildings.

“Quick, in here!” Lando shouts, pulling you towards a sturdy-looking stone building. You duck inside just as a fresh barrage of burning rocks pelts the street where you were standing moments ago.

As your eyes adjust to the dimness, you realize you’re in some kind of workshop. Half-finished statues and blocks of marble are scattered about, coated in a fine layer of ash that has sifted through the cracks.

“A sculptor’s studio,” Lando muses, running his hand along a nearby bust. “Rather fitting, don’t you think? To spend our last moments surrounded by art meant to outlast us all.”

You shoot him a reproachful look. “Don’t talk like that. This isn’t the end. We’ll get through this, just like we always do.”

He sighs, pulling you close. “I admire your spirit, my love. But I fear this time, the Fates have other plans for us.”

As if to punctuate his words, the ground gives another violent lurch. The air grows even thicker, filled with choking dust and sulfurous fumes.

“It’s getting harder to breathe,” you gasp, fighting back a coughing fit.

Lando guides you to a relatively clear corner of the room, helping you sit on the floor before settling beside you. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you against his side.

“Just try to take shallow breaths,” he instructs, his own voice strained. “Like this, see?”

You nod, focusing on matching your breathing to his. For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your labored breaths and the distant rumble of the mountain.

“Lando?” You whisper after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I’m scared.”

He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know, love. I am too.”

“Tell me a story?” You ask, your voice small. “Like you used to, when we first met. Remember?”

Lando chuckles softly. “How could I forget? You were the most stubborn student I’ve ever had the misfortune of tutoring.”

“Hey!” You protest weakly, managing a smile despite everything. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh no?” He teases. “Who was it that insisted the Odyssey would be vastly improved if Odysseus had simply asked for directions?”

You laugh, the sound quickly dissolving into a cough. “Well, it’s true! Twenty years to get home? Penelope should have moved on.”

Lando shakes his head in mock dismay. “Such disrespect for the classics. I clearly failed as your tutor.”

“Never,” you murmur, snuggling closer to him. “You taught me far more important things than dusty old stories.”

“Oh? And what might those be?”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “You taught me what it means to truly love someone. To find a home not in a place, but in a person.”

Lando’s eyes shine with unshed tears as he leans down to kiss you softly. “And you, my darling, taught me that life is meant to be lived, not just studied. You brought color to my world of scrolls and stone.”

Another tremor shakes the building, sending a fresh wave of dust raining down on you both. The air grows thicker, each breath a struggle.

“Lando,” you wheeze, gripping his hand tightly. “I don’t want to die.”

He pulls you onto his lap, cradling you against his chest. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Promise you won’t leave me?” You plead, your vision starting to blur.

“Never,” he vows fiercely. “Not in this life or any other. Wherever our souls go next, we go together. I promise.”

You manage a weak nod, focusing on the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. As consciousness begins to slip away, you’re struck by a strange sense of déjà vu.

“Lando?” You murmur, your voice barely audible.

“Yes, love?”

“I think ... I think we’ve done this before.”

He lets out a shaky laugh. “What, died in each other’s arms while a volcano erupts? I think I’d remember that.”

You shake your head slightly. “No, not exactly. But this feeling ... like we’ve known each other forever. Like we’ll find each other again, no matter what.”

Lando is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “Maybe we have. Maybe we will. I’d like to think so.”

“Me too,” you whisper.

As the world crumbles around you, you cling to each other. Your last thoughts are not of fear or regret, but of the love you share. A love so powerful it transcends time itself.

And as this chapter closes, another waits to begin. For some bonds are too strong to be broken, even by death. Your souls are destined to find each other again and again, weaving an eternal tapestry of love across the ages.

Salem, 1692

The air in the Salem courthouse is thick with tension and the bitter scent of fear. You stand before the assembled judges, your wrists bound tightly with rough rope that chafes your skin. The crowd of onlookers murmurs and shifts restlessly, their faces a sea of suspicion and barely concealed hostility.

Lando sits among them, his face a mask of anguish as he watches the proceedings. He wants nothing more than to rush to your side, to shield you from the madness that has gripped the town. But he knows that any show of support would only damn you further in the eyes of the court.

Judge Hathorne’s voice rings out, silencing the whispers. “The accused will step forward.”

You take a shaky step, raising your chin defiantly despite the terror coursing through your veins.

“You stand accused of witchcraft and consorting with the devil,” Hathorne intones gravely. “How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” you declare, your voice stronger than you feel. “I am no witch, merely a midwife and herbalist. I have done nothing but help this community.”

A snort of derision comes from the crowd. You turn to see Goodwife Putnam, her face twisted with malice. “Lies!” She shrieks. “I saw her dancing naked in the woods, consorting with dark spirits!”

“That’s not true!” You protest. “I was gathering herbs for my remedies, nothing more!”

Judge Hathorne raises an eyebrow. “And can anyone vouch for your whereabouts on the night in question?”

Your heart sinks. You had been alone that night, as you often were when foraging. “I ... I was alone, your honor. But I swear on all that is holy, I am no witch.”

A ripple of whispers sweeps through the crowd. Lando’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with the effort of remaining silent.

“Very convenient,” Hathorne remarks dryly. “Goody Putnam, you may continue with your testimony.”

The woman stands, her eyes gleaming with a fervor that chills you to the bone. “I’ve seen her speaking to animals as if they could understand her. And just last week, my cow’s milk turned sour the very day after she visited our farm!”

“That’s ridiculous!” You exclaim. “Milk spoils, it’s a natural occurrence. And I often speak to animals, as do many others. It does not make me a witch!”

But your protests fall on deaf ears. One by one, your neighbors step forward with increasingly outlandish accusations. Every misfortune, every unexplained event is laid at your feet.

“She cursed my crops!”

“My child fell ill after eating her bread!”

“I saw her flying on a broomstick!”

The claims grow more absurd, but the judges nod solemnly at each one. You feel the noose of suspicion tightening around your neck with each passing moment.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Lando leaps to his feet. “This is madness!” He shouts. “You’re condemning an innocent woman based on nothing but gossip and superstition!”

All eyes turn to him. Judge Danforth fixes him with a steely glare. “Master Norris, you will remain silent or be removed from this courtroom.”

“I will not be silent while you murder an innocent woman!” Lando retorts. He turns to the crowd, imploring them. “Can’t you see what’s happening? We’re tearing our community apart with these baseless accusations!”

A murmur of uncertainty ripples through the onlookers. For a moment, you dare to hope that reason might prevail.

But then Abigail Williams, one of the young girls at the center of the witch hunt, lets out a blood-curdling shriek. She points a trembling finger at you. “Her specter! I see her specter tormenting me even now!”

The other girls quickly join in, writhing and screaming as if in the throes of possession. The courtroom erupts into chaos.

“Order!” Judge Hathorne bellows, pounding his gavel. “Order in the court!”

As the commotion dies down, he turns to you, his expression grave. “The evidence against you is overwhelming. Unless you confess and repent, I have no choice but to find you guilty of witchcraft.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You know that a confession might spare your life, but it would mean living a lie. And worse, it would lend credence to the madness gripping Salem.

“I will not confess to crimes I did not commit,” you say quietly but firmly. “I am innocent before God and man.”

Judge Hathorne’s face hardens. “Then you leave us no choice. You are hereby sentenced to death by hanging. May God have mercy on your soul.”

The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers and shocked gasps. Lando’s anguished cry rises above the din. “No! You can’t do this!”

He rushes towards you, but is quickly restrained by two burly constables. “Let me go!” He shouts, struggling against their grip. “She’s innocent!”

Your eyes meet his across the chaotic courtroom. Despite everything, you manage a small, sad smile. “It’s alright, Lando,” you call out. “Be strong. This isn’t your fault.”

As the guards move to lead you away, Lando breaks free and rushes to your side. He cups your face in his hands, his eyes wild with desperation. “I’ll find a way to stop this,” he vows. “I won’t let them take you.”

You lean into his touch, memorizing the feel of his hands on your skin. “There’s nothing you can do, my love. Promise me you’ll stay safe. Don’t let them take you too.”

“I can’t lose you,” he chokes out, tears streaming down his face.

“You won’t,” you whisper fiercely. “Not really. I don’t know how I know this, but I swear we’ll find each other again. In another life, another time. This isn’t the end for us.”

The guards roughly pull you apart. As they drag you away, you keep your eyes locked on Lando’s, drawing strength from his gaze.

The next few days pass in a blur of fear and desperate prayer. You cling to the strange certainty that had come over you in the courtroom — that somehow, someway, this is not truly the end for you and Lando.

On the day of your execution, you walk to the gallows with your head held high. The crowd that has gathered is subdued, some already beginning to question the justice of what’s happening.

You scan the faces, searching for Lando, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Your heart aches at his absence, but you understand. It would be too painful for him to watch.

As the noose is placed around your neck, you close your eyes and think of Lando. Of his laugh, his gentle touch, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. You hold onto these memories as the world falls away beneath your feet.

Your last conscious thought is a promise — to find him again, no matter how long it takes.

Miles away, hidden in the woods, Lando feels the exact moment you leave this world. He collapses to his knees, a wordless cry of anguish tearing from his throat. But even in his grief, he feels the echo of your final promise.

“I’ll find you,” he whispers to the uncaring forest. “In this life or the next. We’ll be together again. I swear it.”

And so another chapter closes, the threads of your shared destiny stretching onward through time. The cycle continues, each life bringing you closer to the moment when you’ll finally break free of this endless dance of death and rebirth.

Yekaterinburg, 1918

The Ipatiev House looms dark and foreboding in the Yekaterinburg night. You pace the confines of your makeshift prison, the once-opulent rooms now a stark reminder of how far the mighty Romanovs have fallen. The sound of raised voices and heavy footsteps from the floor below sends a chill down your spine.

“They’re coming,” your sister Maria whispers, her eyes wide with fear.

Before you can respond, the door bursts open. A group of armed men file in, their faces grim and purposeful. Your heart nearly stops when you spot a familiar face among them.

“Lando?” You gasp, scarcely able to believe your eyes.

He meets your gaze, his expression a turbulent mix of emotions. “Grand Duchess,” he says stiffly, the formal title at odds with the intimate moments you’ve shared in secret.

“What’s happening?” You demand, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Why are you here?”

Yakov Yurovsky, the commandant of the house, steps forward. “The Ural Soviet has decided to execute the Romanov family,” he announces coldly. “You are to be moved to the basement immediately.”

A wave of terror washes over you. “No,” you breathe. “No, this can’t be happening.”

Your eyes lock with Lando’s, silently pleading. For a moment, you see the conflict raging behind his eyes. But then his expression hardens, and he looks away.

As the guards begin herding your family towards the stairs, you manage to maneuver closer to Lando. “How could you be part of this?” You hiss under your breath.

His jaw clenches. “The revolution demands sacrifices,” he mutters. “Even from those we ... care about.”

“Care about?” You repeat incredulously. “Is that all I am to you now? After everything we’ve shared?”

A flicker of pain crosses his face. “You know it’s more complicated than that. Your family’s rule has caused immeasurable suffering. This ... this is justice.”

“Murder is not justice,” you retort, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger.

Before he can respond, you’re roughly pushed forward. The journey to the basement is a blur of terror and disbelief. Your mind races, desperately seeking a way out of this nightmare.

In the dank cellar, Yurovsky instructs your family to line up against the wall. You find yourself between your younger siblings, instinctively trying to shield them even as your own knees threaten to give out.

“Wait,” you cry out as Yurovsky raises his hand to signal the firing squad. “Please, spare the children at least. They’re innocent in all this!”

Yurovsky’s face remains impassive. “There can be no Romanov heirs left to rally around. The old regime must end here and now.”

You turn to Lando, making one last desperate appeal. “Lando, please. If what we had meant anything to you, don’t let this happen. Help us!”

For a moment, you see the Lando you knew — the passionate young man who spoke of creating a better world, who held you under the stars and whispered promises of a future together. But then the revolutionary mask slips back into place.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely audible. “But this is bigger than us.”

As the soldiers raise their weapons, time seems to slow. You think of all the lives you might have lived — the futures now forever lost to you. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, as if you’ve faced death with Lando before.

“Ready!” Yurovsky’s voice cuts through your reverie.

You straighten your spine, determined to face your end with dignity. Your eyes find Lando’s one last time.

“Aim!”

“I forgive you,” you mouth silently, even as tears stream down your face.

You see Lando’s composure crack, anguish flooding his features. He takes a half-step forward, as if to intervene, but it’s too late.

“Fire!”

The basement erupts in a deafening cacophony of gunshots and screams. You feel a searing pain in your chest as bullets tear through you. As you crumple to the ground, your fading vision fixates on Lando’s horrified face.

With your last breath, you whisper, “Find me again.”

Then darkness claims you.

Lando stands frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from your lifeless form. The smokey smell of gunpowder mixes with the metallic scent of blood, turning his stomach.

“Finish them off,” Yurovsky orders dispassionately. “No survivors.”

As his comrades move forward with bayonets, Lando stumbles back, retching. He staggers up the stairs and out into the cool night air, gulping it down desperately.

What has he done?

He’d believed so fervently in the revolution, in the need to sweep away the old order to build a better world. But staring at his blood-stained hands, Lando feels nothing but horror and soul-crushing guilt.

Your final words haunt him. “Find me again.” But how can he, when he’s destroyed any chance of a future together?

As dawn breaks over Yekaterinburg, Lando makes a decision. He can’t undo what’s been done, but he can ensure the truth isn’t buried along with your body.

Over the coming weeks, as the Bolsheviks spread lies about your family’s fate, Lando works in secret to document what really happened. He gathers evidence, writes detailed accounts, and arranges for the information to be smuggled out of the country.

It’s a dangerous game. If caught, he’ll be branded a traitor to the revolution. But Lando no longer cares about ideology or politics. His only goal is to honor your memory and ensure that history remembers the truth.

Late one night, as he prepares to flee the country with his damning documents, Lando allows himself a moment of quiet reflection. He thinks of your smile, your compassion, the way you challenged him to see beyond his rigid beliefs.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to the empty room. “I failed you in this life. But I swear, somehow, I’ll make it right. If there’s any justice in the universe, we’ll meet again. And next time, I’ll protect you. I’ll choose you over everything else.”

As he slips out into the night, Lando feels a strange sense of certainty. This isn’t the end of your story. Somehow, someway, you’ll find each other again.

The wheel of fate continues to turn, carrying your intertwined souls towards yet another lifetime. But with each cycle, the bond between you grows stronger. Perhaps next time, you’ll finally break free of this tragic pattern and find the happiness that’s eluded you for so long.

Jonestown, 1978

The humid Guyanese air hangs heavy over Jonestown, thick with tension and the cloying scent of tropical flowers. You stand among the gathered crowd, your heart pounding so hard you fear it might burst from your chest. Beside you, Lando’s hand finds yours, squeezing tightly.

“This isn’t right,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the droning speech coming from the pavilion. “We need to get out of here.”

You nod imperceptibly, not daring to speak. Jim Jones’ paranoid ravings have reached a fever pitch in recent days, and you both know that even the slightest hint of dissent could be deadly.

“My children,” Jones’ voice booms out over the loudspeakers, “the time has come for us to make our final stand against the oppressors who seek to destroy our paradise.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd. You scan the sea of faces, seeing a mix of blind devotion and barely concealed terror.

“Our Congressional visitors have betrayed us,” Jones continues, his words slurring slightly. “They will bring nothing but destruction. We have no choice but to enact our glorious revolutionary suicide.”

Your blood runs cold. You’d heard whispers of this plan, but had desperately hoped it was just another of Jones’ manipulative tactics.

“Lando,” you whisper urgently, “we have to run. Now.”

He nods, his face pale but determined. “Follow my lead. When I give the signal, we make a break for the jungle.”

But before you can move, you feel a vice-like grip on your arm. You turn to see your mother, her eyes wild with fervor.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She hisses. “This is our moment of triumph. You will not ruin it with your lack of faith.”

On Lando’s other side, his father has a similar hold on him. The older man’s face is a mask of grim resignation. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, son,” he says quietly.

You watch in horror as Jones’ lieutenants begin distributing paper cups filled with a sinister purple liquid. The bitter almond smell of cyanide fills the air.

“No,” you breathe, struggling against your mother’s grip. “Mom, please. This is insanity. We don’t have to do this!”

But your pleas fall on deaf ears. Your mother’s grip only tightens as she accepts two cups from a passing aide.

“Drink,” she commands, thrusting one towards you.

You shake your head vehemently, clamping your mouth shut. Beside you, Lando is engaged in a similar struggle with his father.

“You can’t force us to do this!” Lando shouts, drawing the attention of nearby cult members. “This is murder!”

Jones’ voice cuts through the growing commotion. “Those who resist are traitors to our cause. They must be made to comply, for the good of all.”

Suddenly, you’re surrounded by a group of Jones’ most fanatical followers. Rough hands grab you, forcing your head back. You struggle wildly, but it’s no use. You feel the cold rim of the cup pressed against your lips.

“No!” Lando cries out, fighting to reach you. “Leave her alone!”

But he too is overwhelmed, multiple hands restraining him as the poisoned drink is forced upon him.

The sickly-sweet liquid burns your throat as it’s poured into your mouth. You choke and splutter, but can’t prevent some of it from going down. Beside you, Lando’s muffled cries tell you he’s suffering the same fate.

As the hands release you, you collapse to your knees, coughing violently. Your vision swims, the world taking on a surreal, nightmarish quality.

“Lando,” you gasp, reaching out blindly.

His hand finds yours, gripping it weakly. “I’m here,” he manages, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you.”

You crawl closer, fighting against the growing weakness in your limbs. All around, people are collapsing, some screaming in agony while others slip away in eerie silence.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper, cupping Lando’s face with a trembling hand. “We never stood a chance against this madness.”

Lando’s eyes, clouded with pain, meet yours. “This can’t be how it ends,” he says desperately. “Not again.”

A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. “Again?” You murmur, confused.

He nods weakly. “I don’t know how, but I feel like we’ve been here before. Facing death together, unable to stop it.”

As the poison works its way through your system, flashes of other lives flicker through your mind. Ancient Egypt, Pompeii, Salem, Russia — each time, finding each other only to be torn apart.

“I remember,” you breathe, wonder mingling with the pain. “We keep finding each other, but we never get our happy ending.”

Lando pulls you closer, both of you shaking with the effort of fighting off the inevitable. “Next time,” he vows, his voice barely above a whisper. “Next time we’ll break this cycle. We’ll find a way to be together.”

You manage a small, sad smile. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he murmurs, pressing a weak kiss to your forehead.

As consciousness begins to slip away, you cling to each other. The sounds of screaming and Jones’ maniacal laughter fade into the background. In these final moments, there is only you and Lando, and the love that has somehow endured across lifetimes.

“Find me again,” you whisper, echoing words spoken in another life.

Lando’s grip on your hand tightens fractionally. “Always,” he breathes.

As darkness closes in, you’re filled with a strange sense of hope. This tragic cycle can’t go on forever. Someday, somehow, you’ll find a way to break free and finally have the life together you’ve been denied so many times.

Your last thought, as you slip away, is a prayer to whatever cosmic force keeps bringing you together.

Next time, let it be different.

Next time, let us live.

And as your souls depart this tragic scene, unseen wheels of fate begin to turn once more. The cycle continues, but perhaps this time, with the weight of so many shared lifetimes behind you, you’ll finally find your way to a happier ending.

In the years that follow, as the horror of Jonestown is revealed to the world, two names are lost among the hundreds of victims. But your story — the story of a love that refuses to be extinguished — lives on, waiting for the next chapter to unfold.

Monaco, 2024

The soft glow of computer screens illuminates Lando’s face as he leans into his microphone, his eyes darting between the chat and his game. “No, chat, I’m not going to sing the Baby Shark song,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You lot are absolutely mental, you know that?”

The door to his streaming room creaks open, and he glances over, his face softening into a warm smile as you pad in, wrapped in an oversized hoodie you’ve stolen from his wardrobe.

“Speaking of sharks,” Lando grins, addressing his audience, “look who’s decided to join us. It’s my favorite cuddly shark!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the nickname, a reference to your habit of playfully nipping at his shoulder when you’re feeling particularly affectionate. As you approach, Lando pushes his chair back slightly, making room for you to settle onto his lap.

“Come here, you,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist as you curl into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. To his stream, he explains, “Sorry chat, the missus is feeling a bit clingy tonight. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

You mumble something unintelligible into his skin, making him laugh. “What was that, love? The stream can’t hear you when you’re trying to become one with my neck.”

Lifting your head slightly, you repeat, “I said, don’t let me interrupt your gaming. I just wanted cuddles.”

Lando presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re never an interruption. Besides, I think the chat’s been asking for a cameo from you all night.”

You turn to face the camera, waving sleepily. “Hi, chat. Sorry I’m not more entertaining tonight. Long day at work.”

The chat explodes with greetings and well-wishes, scrolling by almost too fast to read. Lando chuckles, giving you a gentle squeeze. “See? They love you. Probably more than they love me, to be honest.”

“That’s fair,” you murmur, nuzzling back into his neck. “No one loves you more than I do.”

Lando’s breath catches for a moment, and you feel his heart rate pick up. Even after all this time together, simple declarations of love still affect him deeply. It’s one of the many things you adore about him.

“Alright, chat,” Lando says, his voice a touch huskier than before. “You’ve gone and made her all sappy. I hope you’re happy with yourselves.”

You can’t help but giggle at his attempt to deflect. “Oh please, you love it when I’m sappy.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with a grin. “But if I admit that, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. I have a reputation to maintain, you know.”

You snort inelegantly. “What reputation? Everyone knows you’re a big softie.”

“Oi!” Lando protests, poking you in the side and making you squirm. “I’ll have you know I’m very tough and manly. Right, chat?”

The stream erupts with a mix of agreement and playful disagreement, peppered with emotes and inside jokes. You watch the scrolling text with amusement, marveling at the community Lando has built.

“See?” Lando says triumphantly. “They agree with me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure at least half of those messages were sarcastic, babe.”

Lando waves a hand dismissively. “Details, details. The point is, I’m incredibly macho and not at all a softie.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum skeptically. “Is that why you cried watching Up last week?”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims, his cheeks flushing slightly. “That’s classified information, that is. You can’t just go revealing my secrets to the entire internet!”

The chat goes wild at this revelation, demanding to know more about Lando’s movie-watching habits. You can’t help but laugh at his mock-outraged expression.

“Sorry, love,” you say, not sounding sorry at all. “But if I have to put up with your sniffling during Disney movies, the least I can do is share the joy with your fans.”

Lando groans dramatically. “That’s it, I’m filing for divorce. Chat, you’re my witnesses. This is grounds for divorce, right? Revealing a man’s most intimate vulnerabilities?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “We’re not even married yet, you goof.”

The words slip out before you can think better of them, and suddenly the atmosphere in the room shifts. Lando’s eyes widen slightly, his gaze locking with yours.

“Yet?” He repeats softly, a note of wonder in his voice.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you don’t look away. “Well, yeah. I mean, unless you had other plans?”

For a moment, Lando seems to forget entirely about the stream. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin. “No other plans,” he murmurs. “Just you. Always you.”

The intimacy of the moment is broken by the chat exploding once again, this time with a flurry of ring emotes and excited keysmashes. Lando blinks, seeming to remember where he is.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Well, chat, I think that’s my cue to end the stream for tonight. Got some, uh, important things to discuss with this one.”

You bury your face in his neck again, half embarrassed and half thrilled by the turn of events. As Lando rushes through his usual sign-off, you can feel the barely contained energy thrumming through him.

The moment the stream ends, Lando spins his chair to face you fully, his eyes bright with excitement. “Did you mean that?” He asks eagerly. “About the marriage thing?”

You lift your head, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “Of course I did. Lando, I’ve loved you for lifetimes. There’s nothing I want more than to marry you.”

Something flashes in his eyes at your words — a fleeting moment of recognition, as if some long-buried memory is struggling to surface. But then it’s gone, replaced by pure joy.

“Lifetimes, huh?” He grins, pulling you closer. “Well, in that case, I suppose we better make this one count.”

As his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of rightness. After so many tragic endings, you’ve finally found your happily ever after. And this time, you’re not letting go.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips. “In this life and every other.”

Lando’s answering smile is radiant. “And I love you. Always have, always will.”

As you lose yourselves in each other’s embrace, the echoes of past lives fade away. This is your time, your chance at happiness. And you plan to make the most of every single moment.

[herejusttosufferalong]

Shall we feed our delulu a bit? We haven’t gotten and N and L post since mid July (and boy was it a doozy!). We had radio silence from them for the better part of a month. We got lifeguard Luke 2.0 and a ton of bullshit from the SoHoes, but even they went eerily quiet. We were all spinning out trying to figure out what was happening behind the scenes (cause something was/is def up) and out of nowhere L shows up with a random blooper clip. Our bohy was thinking about N and his Bridgerton fam.

Then N comes back with the milk shirt pics and love songs. The fandom collectively loses their shit. We lose our shit even harder when A doesn’t post to try to change the narrative or bring focus back onto herself. That’s weird and confirms something is up. The gossip reaches a fever pitch after the dating expert video comes out. That coupled with A’s TT alluding to being in Cyprus with L has people ready to tear each other and L apart.

N being the genius she is knows she needs to change the narrative. She needs to make people stop thinking she was posting love songs for L while he fucked off and went on holiday with A while at the same time affirming her love for him and their relationship. So, she chose an insanely cute and intimate bts pic of them and shared to her grid (something we all know a certain someone will never do). The caption is a throwaway. She doesn’t have any legit public reason to post it now other than she wants to. She then immediately shared in stories affirming their friendship in a way she knows the fandom will interpret as friendzoning. What people aren’t realizing is that calling him pal will go away after 24hrs, but that grid post will stay. Our girl has once again publicly claimed that man.

Our calculated queen is creating the narrative she wants and while we’ll never get the full truth from her, it’s plainly clear she is back to claiming that man publicly. They’re a team again. Something changed over the last couple of weeks and she’s letting us know. This is good guys. I can feel it.

💜🥃

[myrtles-and-blood]

♀ 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒆 ♀

──── ( ❤︎ ) ────

Love is the power that ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ignites life and destroys it

Homeric Hymn 10 to Aphrodite

"Of Kythereia (Cytherea) [Aphrodite], born in Kypros (Cyprus), I will sing. She gives kindly gifts to men: smiles are ever on her lovely face, and lovely is the brightness that plays over it. Hail, goddess, queen of well-built Salamis and sea-girt Kypros; grant me a cheerful song. And now I will remember you and another song also."

──── ( ❤︎ ) ────

May I be forgiven for my lack of worship, my lady. You do not leave my mind, don't believe I have stopped loving and honouring you. My beloved goddess, please accept this offering as an apology and as a new greeting, for I ask for your guidance once more in these difficult times I am facing.

──── ( ❤︎ ) ────

dividers by @/vesearartistry ✶ images from Pinterest

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I discovered your blog yesterday, and I confess I became obsessed with Cyprus😫

I hope I'm not bothering, but I wanted to ask if Cyprus would like to have children? And what would he be like as a father

Yves as a parent

Blanche as a parent

Montgomery as a parent

i prommy my other ocs are better than cyprus </3 i do not like this stimky man as much as my other ocs

tw: Transphobia, homophobia, Cyprus is a misogynist, violence

Cyprus isn't necessarily too keen on having children. He very much rather devotes all his time to you. But that doesn't mean he will be a horrible parent like how Yves would be.

If you have a child with him, it's most likely due to an accident or an attempt at baby-trapping you. He would absolutely stop at only one child though, he doesn't want more draining his money and energy.

He would fork over his cheque to hire a nanny to care for his child when they're a baby, choosing to spend his time going on dates and romantic getaways with you, Not to say that he wouldn't change a diaper and lose some sleep to burp them, he just wants to keep the stress under a minimum. Only when they reach age 3, he will step in and handle the disciplinary and developmental side of things.

A daughter would have an easier life than a son. Cyprus would be much softer towards her, paying for her tuition fees and generally becoming that overprotective father figure. He will be very present in her life and yours too, forcing family bonding time whether you or the child likes it or not. You are going to her every piano recital and ballet performance with him, he wouldn't allow himself or you to miss it for the world.

Whoever makes her cry would be pummeled into the ground by Cyprus, she just needs to tell him a name and the deed would be done. In school, Cyprus's daughter would most likely be the mean girl, the queen bee of the bullies because he would be actively encouraging becoming the alpha bitch in class. He would be spoiling her with all kinds of girly things; makeup, the prettiest dress, and all the hair and manicure appointments she would ever want. He would bond with her by taking her out to malls, carrying all her shopping bags as if he were her personal servant.

No chores, just excel in studies. He leaves the burden of teaching her basic survival skills to you, but otherwise, the only requirement for her to meet is straight As on her report card.

He approves of his daughter joining the cheer team, dance classes, or any clubs that elevate her social status while being 'girly' in his eyes.

Cyprus prefers it if she's straight, bagging a boyfriend that would treat her right. However, he would begrudgingly accept if she's a lesbian or bisexual, as long as she's calling the shots in the relationship.

The downside to this is that he would be annoyingly misogynistic at times, giving her slack just because she's "just a female" and couldn't handle things like a man. He wouldn't let her follow in her father's footsteps in boxing, take an interest in 'boyish' things, or even cut her hair shorter than shoulder length.

He would get ugly if his daughter transitioned into a man or took on a more tomboyish personality, yelling and shouting as his worldview crumbles around him. It is excruciatingly hard for Cyprus to accept this, he would most likely disown them and stew in his bitterness and hurt for years to come. When he matures and adopts an open mind with your help and coaxing, he will only be open to reconnecting with his child. However, he wouldn't be the first to apologize, still thinking that his child decided to throw the first punch by killing off his little girl.

He would call his child by their deadname, misgender them, and being an overall patronizing asshole to them. But he is desperately trying to change them back into his daughter, failing to realize that isn't happening.

Nothing will get through to him; inevitably, his child will cut all contact with him. Sending Cyprus into hysterics because he simply cannot accept that some people aren't going to be confined to the sex that they were born with. He would become extremely clingy towards you, though. Fearing that his wife will also leave him too.

But that is if his child is genderqueer. If his daughter grows up to be a straight, cis woman, he would just continue being protective of her, vetting all her partners and scaring away the unworthy boys. She would definitely have a life on her own, but she has to call him from time to time. Because he's a strong believer in "The phone works both ways".

When it comes to sons, there would be no coddling. No spoiling- he would have to earn his own money to get what he wants. No emotional support; if he came home crying, he would receive a barrage of insults for being effeminate, leaving him to fend the bullies off by himself. Cyprus would teach him self-defense in the form of boxing from a very young age, though, making his son a carbon copy of Cyprus in his youth. He would encourage the child to be aggressive, outspoken, and direct, the complete opposite of what he would tell his daughter to do.

Unlike his daughters though, he wouldn't encourage his son to be a bully. Because it's harder for him to get away with it since he would think using his fists. But he does not accept weakness from his son, he would egg him on to continue the fight, but never, ever start it.

He would work his son like a dog, making him mow the lawn, carry heavy furniture, climb up the roof of the house to do gutter maintenance, make him cook and clean, service the cars, whatever labor-intensive and dirty work he could find, Cyprus will make his son do it.

He would bond with his son through boxing, said chores, and man-to-man talks. Competitions on who can lift the heaviest or punch the strongest would be common pastimes between the father and son duo. Despite how he would clearly raise his son with a heavy hand and tough love, Cyprus is a very present father. He gives a damn about his development, not wanting him to be 'useless'.

He doesn't particularly care about his son's grades, as long as he's not held back more than twice in a row, he's fine. Cyprus also doesn't care about his son's taste in women either, as long as his girlfriends don't pose any harm to you or Cyprus, he's fine.

Unfortunately, it's less likely Cyprus would sponsor his college fees unless he's choosing a degree that his father likes. That means, no arts. No medicine either, because Cyprus thinks his son is too stupid to even get through the first semester. The only Bachelor's degree that Cyprus would 100% agree on is something to do with business or finance.

He wouldn't take it well if his son is genderqueer, he would get violent and perhaps break a bone or two if you're not there to stop your husband from hurting your child. Moreover, he couldn't accept the idea that his son was attracted to another man and being dominated by one. It's an instant disownment with a 0% chance of reconciliation.

There aren't many differences between his treatment of his son and his daughter when they're adults, they get their own lives but they have to call Cyprus from time to time to maintain their relationship with him.

Overall, Cyprus isn't the worst parent out there. Although he may be toxic as hell, he is at least there for his children and actually has their best interests at heart.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I was chatting to my uncle about his time in service the other day and what it was like in 2000 when gay people were allowed to openly serve in the military for the first time.

I didn't tell him I was researching fanfic, he just likes chatting with me about politics and history because I'm his Pet Socialist Nephew and it's like a whole new world for him.

(My aunt worked for MI5 and they met in Cyprus while both were deployed; I'm pretty sure they're the reason I got to the late stages - NePoTiSm - but then I disappointed them to become a Tofu-Eating Wokerati Teacher. Yes, I am an ex-Tory, let's not.)

He was a lawyer in the RAF and spent most of his time prosecuting soldiers for misconduct. There is shit he has to take to his grave, especially surrounding the Gulf War. But he remembers dishonourable discharges for "sodomy" and how distasteful he found the "whole sordid business" when there were people still serving who had done "unspeakable things", and he told me about the slow dismantling of those laws, with the help of Stonewall, and the impact it had on so many men and women in the service.

He recalled one particularly terrifying NCO who often ridiculed him for his belly (my uncle likes cheese and wine, a lot; we got through a bottle of Merlot each...I'm pretty sure he opened a second) kissing his partner of 16 years openly, in full uniform, at the 2008 London Pride; how this "incorrigible" man broke down in tears because for the first time he wasn't torn in half: he could love both his country and his partner openly.

Now, this story is a fucking gold mine for me... Cause...

Can you imagine the 141 going to 2008? They think they're going to support their pet bi-disaster, Soap. Figure they'll go in No2s cause they'll be drinking and walking a lot. Then fucking Ghost rocks up in full No1s, shoes polished to an inch of their life like he's turned out for the god damn Queen.

When Soap teases him about how Extra he's being for lil ol' him, Ghost simply sighs and says, "I've waited my whole life for this, Johnny... I'm doin' it right."

That's how Ghost "comes out" to the 141, because of course it is. He doesn't do things in half measures. Soap looks him up and down and tries to play it cool, but Price can see how he's vibrating on the spot and figures they should fall in before Soap executes an unscheduled halo dive on Ghost's dick...

Johnny gets his kiss; by the lions of Nelson's column, under the admiral's watchful eye. Ghost's beret clenched in fist, strong arms clutching him so close, like Ghost's worried the moment might still be snatched from him at any point.

Johnny won't ever mention the tears he tastes between their lips. Some things just need to be let go.

[beautyofaphrodite]

Orphic Hymn to Aphrodite

Greek:

Οὐρανίη, πολύυμνε, φιλομμειδὴς Ἀφροδίτη, 1

ποντογενής, γενέτειρα θεά, φιλοπάννυχε, σεμνή,

νυκτερίη, ζεύκτειρα, δολοπλόκε μῆτερ ἀνάγκης·

πάντα γὰρ ἐκ σέθεν ἐστίν, ��πεζεύξω δέ τε κόσμον·

καὶ κρατέεις τρισσῶν μοιρῶν, γεννᾷς δὲ τὰ πάντα, 5

ὅσσα τ’ ἐν οὐρανῳ ἐστι καὶ ἐν γαίῃ πολυκάρπῳ,

ἐν πόντου τε βυθῷ· σεμνὴ Βάκχοιο πάρεδρε,

τερπομένη θαλίῃσι, γαμοστόλε, μῆτερ ἐρώτων·

πειθοῖ λεκτροχαρής, κρυφίη, χαριδῶτι ἄνασσα,

φαινομένη τ’, ἀφανής τ’, ἐρατοπλόκαμ’, εὐπατέρεια, 10

νυμφιδίη, σύνδαιτε, θεῶν σκηπτοῦχε, λύκαινα·

γεννοδότειρα, φίλανδρε, ποθεινοτάτη, βιοδῶτι·

ἐνζεύξασα βροτοὺς ἀχαλινώτοισιν ἀνάγκαις,

καὶ θηρῶν πολὺ φῦλον, ἐρωμανέων ὑπὸ φίλτρων·

ἔρχεο, Κυπρογενὲς θεῖον γένος, εἴτ’ ἐν’ Ὀλύμπῳ 15

ἐσσί, θεὰ βασίλεια, καλῷ γήθουσα προσώπῳ,

εἴτε καὶ εὐλιβάνου Συρίης ἕδος ἀμφιπολεύεις,

εἴτε σύ γ’ ἐν πεδίοισι σὺν ἅρμασι χρυσεοτεύκτοις

Αἰγύπτου κατέχεις ἱερῆς γονιμώδεα λουτρά,

ἢ καὶ κυανέοισιν ὄχοις ἐπὶ πόντιον οἶδμα 20

ἐρχομένη χαίρεις νεπόδων κυκλίῃσι χορείαις·

ἢ νύμφαις τέρπῃ κυανώπισιν ἐν χθονὶ Δίᾳ,

θυιὰς ἐπ’ αἰγιαλοῖς ψαμμώδεσιν ἅλματι κούφῳ·

εἴτ’ ἐν Κύπρῳ, ἄνασσα, τροφῷ σέο· ἔνθα καλαί σε

παρθένοι ἀδμῆται νύμφαι τ’ ἀνὰ πάντ’ ἐνιαυτὸν 25

ὑμνοῦσιν, σέ, μάκαιρα, καὶ ἄμβροτον ἁγνὸν Ἄδωνιν.

ἐλθέ, μάκαιρα θεά, μάλ’ ἐπήρατον εἶδος ἔχουσα·

ψυχῇ γάρ σε καλῶ σεμνῇ ἁγίοισι λόγοισιν.

English:

Heavenly, smiling Aphrodite, praised in many hymns,

sea-born, revered goddess of generation, you like the nightlong revel

and you couple lovers at night, O scheming mother of Necessity.

Everything comes from you; you have yoked the world,

and you control all three realms. You give birth to all,

to everything in heaven, upon the fruitful earth

and in the depths of the sea, O venerable companion of Bacchos.

You delight in festivities, O bridelike mother of the Erotes,

O Persuasion whose joy is in the bed of love, secretive, giver of grace,

visible and invisible, lovely-tressed daughter of a noble father,

bridal feast companion of the gods, sceptered she-wolf,

beloved and man-loving giver of birth and of life,

with your maddening love-charms you yoke mortals

and the many races of beasts to unbridled passion.

Come, O goddess born in Cyprus, whether you are on Olympos,

O queen, exulting in the beauty of your face,

or you wander in Syria, country of fine frankincense,

or, yet, driving your golden chariot in the plain,

you lord it over Egypt’s fertile river bed.

Come, whether you ride your swan-drawn chariot over the sea’s billows,

joying in the creatures of the deep as they dance in circles,

or you delight in the company of the dark-faced nymphs on land,

(as, light-footed, they frisk over the sandy beaches).

Come, lady, even if you are in Cyprus that cherishes you,

where fair maidens and chaste nymphs throughout the year

sing of you, O blessed one, and of immortal, pure Adonis.

Come, O beautiful and comely goddess;

I summon you with holy words and pious soul.

[whencyclopedia]

Ptolemy II Philadelphus

Ptolemy II Philadelphus ("The Sibling Loving", r. 282-246 BCE) was the second ruler of the Ptolemaic Dynasty. He consolidated the kingdom conquered by his father Ptolemy I and presided over its golden age. Ptolemy II invested heavily in Alexandria, overseeing the completion of the Library of Alexandria and the Lighthouse of Alexandria, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.

Ptolemy II ruled through a combination of hard and soft power, influencing some states through diplomacy while funneling resources toward wars against his rivals in Africa, Asia, and Greece. The Ptolemaic kingdom reached its furthest extent during his reign. These efforts were funded by economic policies that increased Egypt's agricultural and financial output. With his sister-wife Arsinoe II Philadelphus, he instituted a cultural and religious program that solidified the Ptolemaic Dynasty as Egypt's divine rulers.

Youth & Succession

Ptolemy II was born in Kos in 308 or 309 BCE to Ptolemy I and Berenice I of Egypt, his third wife. Ptolemy II had a full-blooded sister, Arsinoe II (l. c. 318/311 to c. 270/268 BCE), and several half-siblings, many of whom were destined to rule themselves. On his father's side, his half-brothers Ptolemy Keraunos (also spelled Ceraunus, r. 281-279 BCE) and Meleager (r. 279 BCE) were each briefly king of Macedon, and his half-sister Lysandra was queen consort to Alexander V of Macedon (r. 297-294 BCE). On his mother's side, his half-brother Magas (r. 276-250 BCE) was king of Cyrene, and his half-sister Antigone was queen consort to Pyrrhus (c. 319-272 BCE).

Shortly after his birth, Ptolemy II and the rest of his family relocated to Alexandria, Egypt's capital. As a youth, Ptolemy II was tutored by some of the brightest minds of Greek literature and Greek philosophy, including Philetas of Cos (c. 340 to c. 385 BCE), Zenodotus of Ephesus (c. 325-260 BCE) the first head of the Library of Alexandria, and Strato of Lampascus (c. 340/330-269 BCE), director of the Lyceum. This educational background contributed to his patronage of the Library of Alexandria later in life.

Ptolemy I decided to pass over Ptolemy Keraunos, his firstborn son by his previous wife Eurydike, so that Ptolemy II could become regent. This decision may have been motivated by Berenice, who naturally wanted her own son to rule. Ptolemy II became co-ruler with his father around 284 BCE. This decision was contested by prominent figures in the Alexandrian court like Demetrius of Phalerum (c. 350-280 BCE), who supported the claims of Ptolemy I's older sons by Eurydike.

Upon Ptolemy I's death in 282 BCE, Ptolemy II became ruler of Egypt, Cyrene, Coele-Syria, Phoenicia, and Cyprus. Ptolemy II immediately set about strengthening his claim by removing all those who refused to acknowledge his rule. He executed two of his half-brothers who attempted to usurp him or stir up rebellion. Demetrius of Phalerum was exiled to Upper Egypt, where he died. Over the course of his reign, Ptolemy II would face challenges from his other brothers. However, Ptolemy Keraunos ended up relinquishing his claim to the Egyptian throne after attaining the Kingdom of Macedon in 281 BCE.

Continue reading...

[chrisis-averted]

Eurovision 2023 Songs ABRIDGED

Yes, I’m doing that again. You’re welcome!  😙 Once again, this is for humor purpose, don’t take it too seriously.

Albania: treasure your family, it’s not going to be there forever 👨‍👩‍👧‍👧

Armenia: I want to meet my soulmate 🥺

Australia: dare to try new things 🤩

Austria: yeah, fuck the music industry, it just exploits artists 👻

Azerbaijan: we broke up but I still think about you 🥺

Belgium: you got me to love myself 🥰

Croatia: yeah, fuck Russia 😈

Cyprus: you’re toxic as hell, girl 😠

Czechia: yeah, fuck gender inequality 🧕

Denmark: I’m afraid of starting a relationship because it might go bad 😥

Estonia: I want to connect with people 🤗

Finland: it’s Friday, I’m tired as fuck, I just want to party and get drunk 🥴

France: I have changed, for good and for ill 😌

Georgia: I have faith there will be better days 😌 

Germany: we are made of beautiful and ugly things 🤩

Greece: it’s those who are broken that help others more 🥰

Iceland: I got out of a toxic relationship and I’m euphoric 😃

Ireland: treasure your uniqueness 🌈

Israel: I’m rare and precious, like a mythical creature 🦄

Italy: I’m a hopeless romantic 🥺

Latvia: I lost hope in this world 😔

Lithuania: I got out of depression thanks to you 🥰

Malta: I’d rather stay at home than get out and party 😴

Moldova: I shall marry you in the forest under the sun and moon 🦌

Netherlands: I lost fascination with life and I’m scared I’m wasting time 😥

Norway: I’m a goddamn queen 👸

Poland: I slept with half the jury because sure as hell I can’t sing I am sexy and want to party 🥴

Portugal: oh fuck I’ve fallen in love and I’m a mess 😵

Romania: I’ve fallen head over heels for a girl who’s toying with me 🙃

San Marino: oh wow, you’re sexy, wanna come home with me? 😍

Serbia: the world is severely fucked up 😡

Slovenia: our generation sees no hope in the future, so we at least we enjoy the moment 🙃

Spain: I love you, my child 👩‍👧

Sweden: I want the only man I cannot have 🥰

Switzerland: our generation feels trapped in the wars caused by people who don’t care about us 😡

Ukraine: we are stronger than they think 😡

United Kingdom: I got cheated on, so now I’m having fun without him 😏

Eurovision Songs Abridged 2021 | 2022

[talonabraxas]

Venus Portal 🌀 Talon Abraxas The Orphic Hymn to Venus

Chapter LIV. The Fumigation from Frankincense

HEAV'NLY, illustrious, laughter-loving queen, Sea-born, night-loving, of an awful mien; Crafty, from whom necessity first came, Producing, nightly, all-connecting dame: Tis thine the world with harmony to join, For all things spring from thee, O pow'r divine. The triple Fates are rul'd by thy decree, And all productions yield alike to thee: Whate'er the heav'ns, encircling all contain, Earth fruit-producing, and the stormy main, Thy sway confesses, and obeys thy nod, Awful attendant of the brumal God: Goddess of marriage, charming to the sight, Mother of Loves, whom banquetings delight; Source of persuasion, secret, fav'ring queen, Illustrious born, apparent and unseen: Spousal, lupercal, and to men inclin'd, Prolific, most-desir'd, life-giving., kind: Great sceptre-bearer of the Gods, 'tis thine, Mortals in necessary bands to join; And ev'ry tribe of savage monsters dire In magic chains to bind, thro' mad desire. Come, Cyprus-born, and to my pray'r incline, Whether exalted in the heav'ns you shine, Or pleas'd in Syria's temple to preside, Or o'er th' Egyptian plains thy car to guide, Fashion'd of gold; and near its sacred flood, Fertile and fam'd to fix thy blest abode; Or if rejoicing in the azure shores, Near where the sea with foaming billows roars, The circling choirs of mortals, thy delight, Or beauteous nymphs, with eyes cerulean bright, Pleas'd by the dusty banks renown'd of old, To drive thy rapid, two-yok'd car of gold; Or if in Cyprus with thy mother fair, Where married females praise thee ev'ry year, And beauteous virgins in the chorus join, Adonis pure to sing and thee divine; Come, all-attractive to my pray'r inclin'd, For thee, I call, with holy, reverent mind.

[death-before-ilion]

Life of Paris (Alexander)

1231 (age 0) Queen Hecabe of Troy dreams that she is about to give birth to a flaming torch that sets her city aflame. Aesacus, son of Priam by his previous wife, interprets the dream and declares the child will bring the downfall of Troy. On the day of Paris's birth, Aesacus further prophetizes that any royal child born that day would have to be killed to save Troy. Paris is born that same day before nightfall. Priam spares the child, unable to kill his own son. Herophile, priestess of Apollo, insists the child must be killed. Priam asks his chief herdsman Agelaus to kill Paris. Agelaus cannot kill the child and exposes him on Mount Ida, where he is suckled by a female bear. Five days later, Agelaus finds Paris alive and adopts him and tells Priam the child is dead.

1216 (age 15) Paris routs a gang of cattle thieves and returns the stolen animals to the herd, thus earning the nickname Alexander. Soon afterwards, Paris becomes the lover of Oenone, daughter of the river god Cebren and oread nymph of Mount Ida.

1214 (age 17) Paris and Oenone get married.

1212 (age 19) birth of their son Corythus on Mount Ida.

1211 (age 20) Paris starts organizing bull fights on Mount Ida, which he wins almost every time.

1209 (age 22) Paris offers a golden crown as a prize for his next bull fight. Ares chooses to participate, transforms into a bull and wins the contest. Paris gives the crown to Ares without hesitation, the honesty of which catches Zeus's attention and leads him to decide that Paris will award the golden apple he has been keeping since the marriage of Thetis and Peleus to the fairest goddess. Judgment of Paris: Paris attributes the golden apple to Aphrodite, earning Hera's and Athena's enmity, but winning the promise of Helen's love, most beautiful of all mortal women.

1208 (age 23) To atone for the supposed murder of his own son, Priam has been organizing expiatory games. Paris's favorite bull is taken to be the prize of this year's games. He decides to participate to win it back. Paris wins all the games, which angers his brother Deiphobus, but his sister Cassandra recognizes him with her seeress powers and Priam welcomes him back to Troy.

1207 (age 24) Paris hires Phereclus to build a fleet, as advised by Aphrodite.

1204 (age 27) Paris and his cousin Aeneas and a contingent of warriors leave for Greece, pretexting to visit and enquire about Hesione, Priam's elder sister. They travel through Greece, and when they reach Sparta, they are welcomed and entertained by Menelaus, husband of Helen who is immediately smitten with love for Paris, as promised by Aphrodite. Menelaus must leave for Crete, for the funeral of king Catreus, his grandfather. As soon as he is gone, Helen embarks with Paris for Troy. However, to avoid being pursued, they detour south of Crete, to Cyprus and Phoenicia. Paris and Aeneas sack Sidon.

1203 (age 28) The fleet reaches Troy. Paris and Helen marry.

1202 (age 29) Birth of Bunomus, their son.

1194 (age 37) Birth of Aganus, their second son.

1193 (age 38) The siege of Troy begins.

1192 (age 39) Birth of Idaeus, their third son.

1191 (age 40) Oenone sends their now adult son Corythus to Paris to participate in the war against the Greeks. He is welcomed by Helen and is stricken by her beauty. Paris does not recognize his son and kills him out of jealousy before he is informed of his identity.

1188 (age 43) Troy is struck by a minor earthquake, but the three sons of Paris and Helen are killed by the collapsing roof of their house.

1184 (age 47) Paris duels Menelaus and is saved by Aphrodite. He wounds Diomedes and later kills Achilles with an arrow guided by Apollo. Philoctetes wounds Paris with an arrow bearing the poison of the Lernaean Hydra. Helen rushes to Mount Ida to beg for Oenone's healing skills. She refuses and Paris soon dies. Oenone commits suicide.

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2023: more about the true winner because I said so

Hey, guess who is not over Eurovision 2023 yet.

It’s me, I am who.

I have never been so invested and still so obsessed over this year’s Eurovision. I mean, I am always hit by the post-depressive phase of Eurovision, but that lasts a couple days - during which I usually go through all the beautiful moments and listen to all the songs on repeat - then I’m back to my regular schedule of stupidly long analyses and fanfictions.

(By the way, sorry for all the Americans who follow me and have no idea of what I’m talking about or what happened in this year’s Eurovision. Just bear with me, I will come back to posting Sanders Sides stuff. Just not today)

This year... well, this year was truly something. And if the last year and the one before I was like “aww, what beautiful moments, I miss seeing these people having fun”, now it’s all mushed into one ball of feelings. I look at those artists having fun with the eyes of someone who saw how things went down. I look at them celebrating the true winner after the finale and I have this strange mix of nostalgia and heaviness.

I am not mad anymore for the result. Or better: I am and I will always be because 200 people stepped over the will of millions. But what this loss caused is just so fascinating and so unique, I want to keep exploring it - and maybe talking a little bit more about the true winner of Eurovision 2023 will help me process my feelings too.

Or I just will satisfy my need to ramble more about this incredible Finnish man, either way.

______________________

The sheer power of charisma

When you watch the entirety of Käärijä’s journey on this Youtube channel (and I suggest you do it, because it gives you a lot of food for thought), you notice a lot of interesting details.

From the moment he won the national competition and knew he had to go to Eurovision, Käärijä knew his only rival would’ve been Loreen. He said right from the start that it would’ve ended up with a confrontation between Sweden and Finland. He liked other songs and thought they could’ve been good opponents - but it’s pretty clear he knew the only one who could’ve opposed him was Sweden.

And he knew that Loreen was good. Even though I do not like her songs, even I have to admit she has good vocals. Sure, the vocals are the only thing I understand because she mumbles the rest of the song, but the vocals aren’t bad.

Käärijä knew she was the favorite to win. He praised her performance and called her “queen”, so he has been the first one to recognize her as a worthy opponent. He wasn’t so naive to think “I can easily beat her”.

However, he had some tricks up his sleeves. He knew his song was perfect for Eurovision, he basically designed it for that. He knew his performance would’ve got people’s attention. And he knew he had a lot of charisma.

You can say anything you want about him, but you cannot deny this man is charismatic. And this is a lot interesting, because charisma doesn’t have an exact definition and it’s not the same for everyone. And yet, we can all recognize and identify it as “charisma” when we see it.

The definition Wikipedia offers is that charisma is “a personal quality of presence or charm that compels its subjects”. And it’s undeniable that Käärijä has it. He has that genuine, simple honesty we see in childrens only and this activates our protective instincts, because we feel the need to protect him too. He is funny and makes us smile and everyone loves to smile and have fun. He is simple and humble and that makes him look more approachable and friendly than a superstar.

And his presence on stage is very, very good. He’s eye-catching and he knew it very well. He was the flashiest and the most interesting to look at - both because of his clothes and his appearance. Just compare him to the Cyprus guy: I don’t even remember the Cyprus guy’s face, but I doubt I will ever forget that iconic neon green bolero.

And I am sure he knew that very well. He knew the public would’ve loved him. He knew he would’ve gotten a lot of points because of the public. He knew he would’ve connected with them and not with the jury.

And so it was. The numbers are clear: he was and still is the public’s favorite. His result is the second highest in history right after Kalush Orchestra’s. The entire arena sang with him. During the voting portion, they kept calling his name. Everyone called him “winner”. As the Estonian singer Alika told him: “you had the public when they announced Loreen won”.

And by knowing that, I can understand why he was so bummed. He literally had everything: the perfect song, the charisma, public’s support. And I am pretty sure that, if the public gave more points to Loreen, he would’ve accepted his defeat easier.

But it wasn’t like that: he got more points than her in both the semifinal and the final. He has always been the public’s winner, right from the start. And even if he would've gotten the theoretical maximum of public votes from Europe (432), he still would've ended up behind Sweden.

Losing because 222 people gave your opponent an unbeatable lead isn’t something easy to digest. I mean, it’s been days and I haven’t digested it yet! And I am definitely not a singer, nor I did take part in the competition. However, I voted for him and, well, I am quite pissed that my money got wasted because of a stupid unfair system. The EBU should really refund everyone who tried to vote, considering there was no way to defeat the sheer power of the jury.

So, well, the competition ended with the public’s favorite losing the piece of glass. I will get over it, everyone will get over it. Käärijä himself will get over it - now he’s still rightfully sad about it, but as he said, life goes on.

And he will soon realize that losing the competition turned him into something more than a simple winner.

______________________

The birth of a legend

If Käärijä won, he would’ve been just the winner of Eurovision 2023. People would’ve loved him like they love Kalush Orchestra or Maneskin. Everyone would’ve been happy, a little bit of post-Eurovision depression as always and we would’ve forgotten it.

But losing had an even bigger impact, because Käärijä didn’t step down to second place, but over the first place. Being so spectacularly wronged in front of the world made him ascend to the status of legend and the public went crazy for him. Cha Cha Cha reached the top of Spotify's top 50 global, people from all European countries called him “the true winner” and I’ve seen more than one American, who knew nothing about Eurovision, watch his performance and protest for the result as well.

Even Tumblr was affected by this: the tag Eurovision trended for 3 days after its ending and, after it stopped trending, Käärijä kept doing it for days. And he’s still doing it, so good job people, let’s keep the party going on for a little longer: we all deserve it, after all. You know, as a little FUCK YOU to the jury.

What about Youtube? His grand final performance reached ca. 9 mln views in three days and if you check the comment section, is full of people calling him the true winner as well.

Heck, the Eurovision channel made a video specifically about his journey, like the usually do for winners only (in fact, they did one for Loreen. And Käärijä’s video got more views than Loreen’s in one single day).

And all over Europe people are still protesting and asking for the voting system to change. The Norway delegation asked it first and I fully support them, because they are constantly robbed by the jury. I liked Duncan Lawrence’s Arcade in 2019, but KEiiNO was a completely different level. (And if you loved KEiiNO too, please check their Youtube channel because they have made a lot of other songs and OH MY GOSH THEY ARE ALL GREAT)

Käärijä united Europe with his music and his energy and I understand why Finnish people are so proud of him: there are very few artists who are able to connect people so well. And he did it by using his mother tongue, not English! That’s an even bigger win imho, because it proves that if you have a great song, a strong performance and incredible charisma, people will appreciate you and go past the language barrier without any problem.

That’s why humankind loves music, after all: because it doesn’t need to be understood word by word, to reach people’s hearts.

______________________

The hero’s journey

There are many reasons why people fell in love with this funky green man and they all differ: someone loves his bubbly personality, others were touched by his genuinity, others just fell on the ground laughing and who doesn’t love someone that makes you laugh? And yes, there are some who are just horny for him and you are valid too, because he’s a good-looking man.

However, I think that the main reason why so many people got so invested, it’s because he had the perfect hero’s journey.

He already had a story perfect for a movie, even before starting Eurovision: when he was younger, he was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa and the disease almost took his life (this post has an interview with all details). But because of that experience, he realized life is short and he should’ve pursued what he truly wanted - i.e. singing. I mean, this alone is perfect material for a movie already.

But now he got another story, and it’s even more like a movie: the story of the young man no one knew, who left his city in his small country, to reach the big European stage. A man with a funny spirit, who connected with everyone despite his broken English - and he wonderfully improved it along the way. Just look at how much more confident he became! Truly a masterful example of how we should just talk and make mistakes, in order to get better in another language.

So we followed the adventures of this funny man and of the friends he made along the way. We had fun and cried for the beauty of his friendship with Bojan (he literally called Käärijä “my new brother” and a small part of my heart that was broken got immediately healed). We got involved in his climbing to the top, we saw him face the behemoth that was opposing him and hoped for him to overcome it.

And he got the tragic conclusion of a hero’s journey: a hero who won and yet still lost.

People love this shit. We have always loved the story of the little one against the unbeatable enemy, the nobody who got the recognition he deserves, the kind heart defeated by the corrupt system. Those are all things that touch people and all aspects of the hero’s journey. And people naturally hope for a happy ending, so if we get a sad, bad or unfair one instead, we tend to feel even more empathetic towards the protagonist. And if your protagonist is as lovable as he is, the feeling is 100x stronger.

I really don’t know if the national juries expected this to happen, when they knew who the public’s favourite was and yet decided to award a different artist. But by doing that, they became the perfect enemy to close Käärijä’s journey and build a legend.

So, well, thanks for sucking so much. You built the legend you didn’t want to.

And yes, Käärijä’s enemy IS NOT Loreen. Loreen did her thing, she didn’t bribe the judges to give her votes. The problem is the jury’s power. So, for all the people who are still harrassing her: please stop hating this woman, she just did what other artists did too.

And since we’re talking about her, please stop saying shit like “She shouldn’t have participated!” too, because this is both very stupid (everyone is allowed to participate in Eurovision) and very disrespectful towards Käärijä himself. It’s a bit like saying that sure, he was good, but, like, you know, not enough good.

And this is totally wrong because this man has been able to defeat Loreen twice, both during the semifinal and the final (at least according to the votes that matter). So stop undermining his ability: he is a good artist. Actually, an artist so good only Loreen was able to compete against him.

And if you still think it’s right to hate Loreen for whatever reason, then I would like to bring this to your attention:

The king literally proposed to Loreen. And, considering how accurate was his foresight about the whole competition, I think it’s time we start to think about when it will happen and how many children they will have.

So if you are still harassing her: stop protesting for the piece of glass and ask her when will they get married, instead. We need to know.

Also, wouldn’t that be an even more perfect ending for Käärijä’s hero’s journey? Not only the great evil (aka the jury) will be defeated, but he will marry the only woman strong enough to oppose him. 100/10 I want a movie now.

And yes, I know Käärijä also proposed to Bojan and they are fathers of a baby sea lion. But what’s the problem? Doesn’t Käärijä have two hands? With one hand can hold Bojan, with the other Loreen, duh.

(Then he will probably need another hand for Selena from Austria, because I think she developed a little crush on him but hey, that’s the life of a hero I guess.)

______________________

Have you listened to his other songs yet?

I just want to confirm they are bops and you should listen to them immediately. Also, do not forget his concert on Saturday that will be available worldwide. Let’s show love to the king.

And yes, that means another post will come out. I mean, there are still so many things we need to know! I want to see the photos of that mural people are doing for him in Vantaa, I want to see the music collaboration between him and Bojan, I want to see them visiting little Edgar at the zoo. And I can’t wait to hear about his future European tour, because he has to do one. And maybe that will fully convey him how big his impact has been indeed.

As people told him in the after party, he conquered the world. Now he just needs to see it for himself.

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

Royal Deaths 9th September.

1000 - Olaf Tryggvason, King Olaf I of Norway.

1087 - King William I of England (The Conqueror).

1398 - King James I of Cyprus.

1438 - Edward, King of Portugal.

1487 - Chenghua, Emperor of China.

1488 - Francis II, Duke of Brittany

1513 - James IV of Scotland.

1596 - Anna Jagiellon, Queen of Poland and Grand Duchess of Lithuania.

1730 - Charles FitzRoy, 2nd Duke of Cleveland, illegitimate son of King Charles II of United Kingdom.

1813 - George I, Prince of Waldeck and Pyrmont in Rhoden, Kingdom of Prussia.

1870 - Baroness Louise Lehzen, governess and companion to Queen Victoria.

[ryahtargaryen]

— HOTD OC VERSE—

TIMELINE & EVENTS

― YEAR 106 AC ―

— Aemma and Baelon Targaryen die due to complications during childbirth

― YEAR 107 AC ―

— Alicent Hightower marries Viserys Targaryen

— Aegon II Targaryen is born on 5/27/107

― YEAR 108 AC ―

— Rhaenyra is officially named Heir to the Iron Throne at 19 years old by King Viserys

— Lord Hobert Hightower falls extremely ill

— Rumors that Otto Hightower may have to leave King’s Landing to assume the role of Lord of Old Town on account of his brother having no sons begin to spread

― YEAR 109 AC ―

— Rhaenyra Targaryen marries Daemon Targaryen

— Ryah and Calla Targaryen are born on 6/3/109

— Rhaegal and Snowfyre hatch from the same egg on 6/3/109

— Helaena Targaryen is born on 8/9/109

― YEAR 110 AC ―

— Ryah and Calla celebrate their first name day which is a widely celebrated event since they are the Kings’s first grandchildren.

— Helaena celebrates her first name day

― YEAR 111 AC ―

— Jacaerys Targaryen is born on 4/5/111

— Vermax and Arrax hatch from the same clutch of eggs on 4/15/111

— Aemond Targaryen is born on 6/10/111

— Cyprus hatches on 6/13/111

— Disputes arise about who will be Rhaenyra’s Heir once Jacaerys is born, but Rhaenyra is firm on naming ryah, her firstborn, as her Heir

― YEAR 112 AC ―

— Laenor Velaryon refuses to wed for duty and flees to Essos with his lover, leaving behind his title as Heir to Driftmark

— Laena Velaryon is named Heir to Driftmark

— Laena Velaryon marries Carter Stark

― YEAR 113 AC ―

— Baela and Rhaena Velaryon are born on 4/6/13

— Hobert Hightower passes from his illness

— Otto Hightower becomes Lord of Old Town and resides his position as Lord Hand

— Otto returns to Old Town

— Lord Lyonel Strong becomes Hand of the King

— Lucerys Targaryen is born on 12/3/113

― YEAR 114 AC ―

— Daeron Targaryen is born on 9/1/114

— Viserys Targaryen begins to fall ill

― YEAR 115 AC ―

— Caeserys Targaryen is born on 1/4/115

— Daemon Targaryen is named Hand of the King

— The reparation of Harrenhall begins under Lord Lyonel’s supervision

— Harwin Strong becomes Commander of the City Watch

― YEAR 116 AC ―

— Gwayne Hightower is named Heir to Old Town

— Sightings of a ghost called Alys disrupts certain plans in Harrenhall

― YEAR 117 AC ―

— Aegon Targaryen claims Sunfyre at 10 years old

― YEAR 118 AC ―

— Aerion and Aelon Targaryen is born on 2/12/118

— Starlight and Moonlight hatch on 2/13/118

— Viserys loses his fingers and he grows weaker

― YEAR 119 AC ―

— Aegon II (12) and Calla (10) Targaryen are betrothed as a political move to sway doubts of future usurpation as Visery grows weaker

— Ryah and Calla (10) claim Rhaegal and Snowfyre

— Helaena Targaryen (10) claims Dreamfyre

― YEAR 120 AC ―

— Harrenhall’s restoration is nearly halfway done

— The mystery ghost of Harrenhall (Alys) has become a scary story the children of King’s Landing tell each other

― YEAR 121 AC ―

— Aemond Targaryen (10) claims Cyprus and loses his eye in the process

— Jacaerys Targaryen (10) claims Vermax

— Ryah (12) and Aemond Targaryen (10) are betrothed as strategic political move; and on account of the touching words Princess Ryah had said the day Prince Aemond lost his eye

— Rhaenyra miscarries her final child, Visenya II

― YEAR 122 AC ―

— Baela Velaryon (10) claims Moondancer in Driftmark

— Jacaerys (11) and Helaena Targaryen (13) are betrothed and are set to inherit dragonstone

— Viserys must lose one of his eyes since it has begun to rot

— With the worsening condition of King Viserys, Rhaenyra has begun to prepare for her ascension

― YEAR 123 AC ―

— Lucerys Targaryen (10) claims Arrax

― YEAR 124 AC ―

— Viserys Targaryen dies and a huge funeral is held in his honor that nobel-born and smallfolk attend

— Rhaenyra Targaryen becomes Queen of the Seven Kingdoms at 35 years old

— Ryah Targaryen is named Heir to the Iron Throne at 15 years old

— Rhaenys Targaryen is named Hand of the Queen

— Daeron Targaryen (10) claims Tessarion

― YEAR 125 AC ―

— Aegon and Calla Targaryen get married at 18 and 16 years old

— Caeserys Targaryen (10) claims Tyraxsis

— Gwayne Hightower dies suddenly of a burst belly in Old Town

— A funeral is held in honor of Ser Gwayne in Old Town

— Aegon is named Heir to Old Town by Otto Hightower

― YEAR 126 AC ―

— Aegon (19) and Calla (17) move to Old Town

— The Small Council plan to wed Ryah and Aemond within the next year

— Aegon and Calla leave for Winterfell in 9/126

— in 11/126 AC a ball is hosted in Winterfell that Ryah and Aemond attend through invite from their siblings in hopes of finding Sara Stark a match

― YEAR 127 AC ―

— Aegon and Calla return from Winterfell in 1/127 for the wedding

— Ryah and Aemond are married at 18 and 16 years old which solidifies Aemond’s position as future King Consort

— Ryah and Aemond are sent away from peering eyes to Dragonstone from 3/127 to 7/127 so the two may bond without the pressure of The Small Council

— Aegon and Calla return to Winterfell in 11/127 to spend time with their friends in the north

― YEAR 128 AC ―

— Aegon and Calla return to King’s Landing to bring news of her pregnancy

— Aerion and Aelon (10) claim Starlight and Moonlight

— Jacaerys and Helaena Targaryen get married at 17 and 19 years old

— Calla (19) gives birth to Arra Targaryen on 6/23/128 in Old Town

— Saphira hatches on 6/27/128

— Ryah and Aemond visit Old Town to be with Calla, Aegon, and their newborn baby girl

— Lucerys and Rhaena are betrothed at 15 and 16

― YEAR 129 AC ―

— Jacaerys is officially named Prince of Dragonstone at 18 years old

— Helaena is officially named Princess of Dragonstone at 20 years old

— Jace and Helaena move to Dragonstone

― YEAR 130 AC ―

— Baela Velaryon and Daeron Targaryen are betrothed at 18 and 16 years old

— Rhaenys Tarygaren passes away and a funeral is held in her honor in both King’s Landing and Driftmark

— Alicent Hightower is named Hand of the Queen

— Rhaena Velaryon (18) claims Meyles

― YEAR 131 AC ―

— Helaena (22) gives birth to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera on 1/23/131 on Dragonstone

— Ryah (22) gives birth to Daenerys Targaryen 7/31/131 in King’s Landing

— Calla flies to King’s Landing to be with her sister when news of the rough labor is sent via letter

— Arren hatches on 8/3/131

― YEAR 132 AC ―

— Baela Velaryon and Daeron Targaryen get married at 20 and 18 years old

— Calla (23) gives birth to Baelon II Targaryen on 11/6/132 in Old Town

— Vitali hatches on 11/9/132

— Ryah goes alone to visit Calla and congratulate her on the birth of her son

— Evelyn Lannister (17) begins courting Caeserys Targaryen (17)

― YEAR 133 AC ―

— Calla returns to King’s Landing to be with her sister and prepare for the arrival of her sisters second baby

— Ryah (24) gives birth Rhaen Targyaren on 3/27/133 in King’s Landing

— Ridge hatches on 3/30/133

— Corlys Velaryon dies and a funeral is held in his honor at Driftmark

— Laena Velaryon becomes Lady of Driftmark

— Baela is named Heir but she refuses the title. She is content to live in Old Town with her husband

— Rhaena Velaryon is named Heir to Driftmark

― YEAR 134 AC ―

— Lucerys and Rhaena get married at 20 years old

— Ryah and Aemond stay with Aegon and Calla in Old Town from 6/134 to 9/134 raising their kids together. Ryah and Aemond get time to enjoy quiet life outside of their duties in The Red Keep

— Ryah and Aemond return to King’s Landing in 9/134 with a renewed vigor on their stance as the next ruling couple of Westeros

― YEAR 135 AC ―

— Ryah and Calla write letters back and forth about being pregnant at the same time and agree to live together through their last pregnancies

— Ryah and Aemond return to Old Town with their children, Daenerys and Rhaen, to live quietly and comfortably with their siblings and their family

— Calla (26) gives birth to Aemma II Targaryen on 5/6/135 in Old Town

— Ryah (26) gives birth to Annika Targaryen on 5/6/135 in Old Town

— Neives and Maeven hatch on 5/6/135

— Ryah and Aemond return to King’s Landing with Aegon and Calla in 10/135 AC to introduce their new babies to the family

— Caeserys Targaryen and Evelyn Lannister get married at 20 years old

― YEAR 136 AC ―

— Helaena (27) gives birth to Maelor Targaryen 11/4/136 on Dragonstone

— Skylark hatches on 11/14/136

— Baela (23) gives birth to Roserora Targaryen on 11/28/136 in Old Town

― YEAR 137 AC ―

— Rhaena (24) gives birth to Roan Targaryen 2/4/137 on Driftmark

― YEAR 138 AC ―

— Otto Hightower dies

— Aegon Targaryen becomes Lord of Old Town at 31 years old

— Calla becomes Lady of Old Town at 29 years old

— Arra Targaryen is named Heir to Old Town at 10 years old and claims Saphina

— Evelyn (23) gives birth to twins, Ivan and Illian, on 10/15/138 in King’s Landing

— Aerion and Aelon (17) refuse to court ladies presented to them as matches

― YEAR 139 AC —

— Rhaenyra Targaryen turns 50 on 5/12/139 AC

— Baela (27) gives birth to Ariel Targaryen on 7/1/139 AC in Old Town

― YEAR 140 AC ―

— Rhaena (28) gives birth to twins, Bella and Blake, on 4/21/140 on Driftmark

— Aerion and Aelon leave King’s Landing to explore Essos together

— Evelyn (25) gives birth to Jasper Targaryen on 3/12/140 in King’s Landing

― YEAR 141 AC ―

— Daenerys Targaryen (10) claims Arren in King’s Landing

— Jaehaerys and Jaehaera (10) claim Silverwing and Sheepy (Sheepstealer) on Dragonstone

― YEAR 142 AC ―

— Baelon Targaryen (10) claims Vitali in Old Town

― YEAR 145 AC ―

— Aemma Targaryen (10) claims Maeven in Old Town

— Annika Targaryen (10) claims Nieves in King’s Landing

—— THE TIMESKIPS ——

― YEAR 151 AC ―

— Daenerys (20) and Arra Targaryen (22) reveal to their parents that they have been courting each other in secret and wish to get married

— Daenerys and Arra Targaryen marry in 10/151 AC

— Arra steps down as Heir to Old Town

— Baelon II is named Heir to Old Town

― YEAR 154 AC ―

— Rhaenyra Targaryen descends the throne at 65

— Ryah Targaryen is crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms at 45

— Aemond Targaryen is crowned King Consort at 43

— Daenerys Targaryen is named Heir to the Iron Throne at 23

— Arra is named the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms at 25

and on and on it goes…

[tarotbee]

Hi! I’m not sure if you are still doing your ways to worship certain deities posts but if you are do you think you could do one about Lady Hera?

Ways of Honouring and Worshipping Queen Hera

To note Hera is the Wife of Zeus and the Queen of the Gods. She is also the Goddess of marriage and childbirth and the protectress of women. She also bore the epithet Eileithyia at Árgos and Athens and was the Patron of those cities, giving her correspondence with Athena.

Learn her Epithets: Eileithyia, Gamêlia, Zugia and Teleia

Imagery of Cows, Cuckoo's, Peacocks, Panthers, Lions, Eagles and shelled animals

Peacock feathers, ethically sourced or faux cow leather, cow horns, snail shells etc

Research the celebrated "The Shield" that was held in her honour at Sámos

Research the Heraia

Self care days - baths with Epsom salts, bath bombs, face maks

Glamour magic

Colour magic! (Pinks/rose, purples, white and royal colours such as rich blues and greens)

Celebrate the solstices and the changing of the seasons

Any royal imagery such as thrones, crowns, scepter etc

Plants and Scents: lily, lotus, poppy, waterlily, maple, coconut, iris, rose, cyprus

Wear jewelerry made of rich gems and jewels like silver, garnets, diamond, sapphire and citrine

Apples and pomegranates

Statues and painting were common traditional offerings to Hera

Learning marriage customs

Have sex! (But don't cheat, iykyk)

Learn the Homeric hymns written for her

Set boundaries for yourself, especially in romance

Take care of your home physically and energetically

Most importantly take care of yourself

A prayer to Hera

(Linked)