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poppitron360 · 5 months ago

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Thinking about names having power in the Riordanverse- because it’s exactly the kind of literature motif that I LOVE.

Thinking about “Leo” being short for “Leonidas” who was a Spartan King who sacrificed his life fighting to save his people in the Battle of Thermopylae.

Leo, similarly, gave his own life to stop Gaea and save the world.

That comparison has already been made before, but there’s more-

Leo rejects the name “Leonidas” and chooses to go by “Leo”- in a way, rejecting the fate he’s assigned to. And he doesn’t suffer that fate in the end. He lives.

Yeah, names have power. But what you choose to name yourself has even more power. For example, the fact that Thalia rejected the last name “Grace” because it associated her with her mother, but then taking it back up again when she found out Jason was alive. And Leo chose to not go by “Leonidas” and he also chose to take the physician’s cure and come back.

And here we get onto what Calypso’s doing. By calling him something that he asked to not be called, she is taking away that agency of choice. She is taking away that power.

It’s a small moment, but it REALLY bugs me. Because, like Leo, I go by a shortened version of a longer name, and often one of the ways bullies used to hold power over me was by calling me by my full name repeatedly, even after I asked them to stop. It’s also a way a lot of transphobes hold power over trans people- by deadnaming. By taking away the power of their name, their choice, their identity, who they are, who they’ve built themselves to be, and their right to control all of that.

Now, I’m NOT saying Calypso is going as far as deadnaming Leo, but it’s a similar premise. It’s a manipulation tactic used to knock people down.

Now friendly nicknames -e.g. “Seaweed Brain”- are different, because Percy consents to it. It’s a term of affection between them (and notice how it’s different when Thalia used it. It’s a name that symbolises percabeth’s love, and it’s a name only Annabeth can use). But this is a name, while said in a jokey, banter-y manner, that Leo has SPECIFICALLY ASKED to not be called. And she does it anyway, ignoring the boundary he’s set, ignoring his choice to shape his own identity, ignoring everything that symbolised INCLUDING the fact that it’s literally Leo saying “I choose life” by rejecting the name that fated him to death. It’s just a big red flag for me. And if you put that on top of the fact that she also physically hurt him in this (enough to make him say “ow”) then you just get a whole host of Reasons Why This is NOT Leo’s “Happy Ending”- which the narrative paints it out to be.

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achromatophoric · 2 months ago

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Wednesday: I don’t fall in love. The only thing I would ever fall in, is battle.

Bianca: *snorts* Okay, Lil’nidas.

Wednesday: What did you just call me?

Bianca: Lil’nidas, because I’m pretty damn sure Enid is your Battle of Thermopylae.

Wednesday: 😐

Wednesday: 😑

Wednesday: 😦

Bianca: *murmurs* Three, two, one, and—

Wednesday hard blinks once, snaps to her feet, and begins to flee speedwalk away.

Bianca: *calls after* See ya, Addams! Always happy to burst your little black bubble!

Wednesday: 🖕

Bianca: 🫰

#pre wenclair #feelings realization #finwoman bianca #bitchfish #wednesday addams #bianca barclay #wenclair #incorrect wenclair #incorrect wednesday addams #incorrect wednesday quotes #wednesday netflix #incorrect quotes #short incorrect quote

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 2 months ago

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Unveiling Shadows

Pairing: König x reader

AU: College Professor König x Student! Reader

Warnings: This story contains themes of emotional vulnerability, bullying, and past trauma that may be sensitive for some readers. Please proceed with care.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy! Normally I put the star banners up but there’s too many for the 10 image limit so the dashes will have to do😭

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The lecture hall buzzes with murmured conversations as students trickle in. The anticipation is palpable—Professor König is infamous on campus. Known for his towering height and the black cloth mask he always wears, he’s a figure of endless speculation.

As he enters, the room falls silent.

He’s impossibly tall, his broad frame draped in a tailored blazer that somehow doesn’t soften his intimidating presence. His piercing blue eyes sweep across the room as he strides to the podium, gloved hands adjusting the microphone. When he speaks, his deep, accented voice fills the hall.

“Today, we discuss the Battle of Thermopylae.”

You’re seated near the front, frantically jotting notes. Despite his austere demeanor, his lectures are riveting, painting vivid pictures of ancient battles and historical intrigue. But even as you focus, you can’t help but notice the little things: the way he avoids prolonged eye contact with the students, the slight tension in his shoulders when the room grows too quiet.

The rumors about him swirl constantly. Some say he’s hiding terrible scars. Others claim he’s disfigured or reclusive. You don’t know what to believe, but when the opportunity arises to become his student assistant, you jump at the chance.

---

His office is tucked away in the quietest corner of campus. The hallway smells faintly of polished wood and old paper, and as you knock, your palms are damp with nervousness.

“Come in,” his deep voice calls.

You step inside, finding him seated behind a desk overflowing with books, maps, and handwritten notes. The air is warm and faintly dusty, and the scent of leather and faint cologne lingers in the room. He looks up, his intense blue eyes meeting yours.

“You’re the new assistant,” he says, standing to his full height.

He towers over you, his presence filling the room. The black mask obscures the lower half of his face, leaving only his sharp jawline and striking eyes visible.

“That’s me,” you say, managing a small smile.

His gaze lingers for a moment before he nods. “Good. There is much to do.”

---

Over the next few weeks, you spend more time in his office than you do in your own apartment. You’re tasked with organizing his chaotic files, transcribing lecture notes, and assisting with research.

At first, König is distant, keeping interactions strictly professional. But as the days go by, small cracks appear in his stoic facade. He begins to ask about your studies, your interests. He even lets out a soft chuckle at one of your jokes, though it’s muffled by the mask.

One late evening, as you’re sorting through a stack of old manuscripts, you notice him watching you.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, glancing up.

“No,” he says quickly, his gaze shifting. “You’re... efficient.”

It’s the closest thing to a compliment you’ve ever gotten from him, and your cheeks warm at the unspoken praise.

But not everything is easy. The mask becomes an unspoken barrier between you, a constant reminder of how much he’s holding back. You find yourself wondering what he’s hiding—and why.

---

The drama unfolds during a university event, a book fair where König is presenting rare texts and artifacts. You’re helping him set up the booth when a group of students approaches, their laughter too loud.

“Why does he even wear that mask?” one of them sneers.

“Bet he’s hiding something ugly under there,” another adds, snickering.

You glance at König, whose posture stiffens. His hands clench into fists at his sides, but he says nothing.

Anger flares in your chest. “He wears the mask because he’s better than people like you,” you snap, your voice sharp. “Maybe try focusing on your own shortcomings instead of mocking someone you don’t understand.”

The students falter, exchanging uneasy looks before slinking away.

When you turn back to König, his blue eyes are fixed on you, unreadable.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmurs.

“Yes, I did,” you reply firmly. “Nobody deserves to be treated like that.”

For a moment, the tension between you feels almost tangible. Then he turns away, his shoulders heavy with something you can’t quite name.

---

That night, you’re alone in his office, packing up your things when the door opens. König steps inside, his usually calm demeanor replaced by something... raw.

“Why did you defend me?” he asks abruptly, his voice low.

You pause, taken aback by the intensity in his tone. “Because it was the right thing to do. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He steps closer, the space between you shrinking. “You don’t understand,” he says quietly. “The mask... it’s not just for them. It’s for me.”

His gloved hand moves to the edge of the mask, hesitating. For a moment, you think he might take it off. But then he stops, his hand dropping back to his side.

“I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “Not yet.”

You step closer, your heart pounding. “You don’t have to,” you whisper. “Not until you’re ready.”

For a moment, the air between you feels electric. His gaze searches yours, and you swear he’s about to close the distance. But then he pulls away, the tension dissipating as he turns back to his desk.

---

Weeks later, during another late-night work session, the unspoken feelings between you finally come to a head.

“You make this job... difficult,” he says suddenly, his voice soft but strained.

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up from your notes.

“You’re... distracting,” he admits, his blue eyes meeting yours.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Distracting how?”

He steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “You make me want things I shouldn’t want,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

The air feels heavy, charged with unspoken desire. Before you can stop yourself, you reach up, resting a hand on his arm.

“What if I want the same things?” you whisper.

For a moment, he says nothing. Then, slowly, he lifts a gloved hand to cup your face, his touch surprisingly gentle.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

“You won’t,” you reply, leaning into his touch.

And for the first time, you see a hint of a smile in his eyes.

——

The air between you remains electric after that confession, but nothing changes immediately. König is cautious, retreating into his usual professional demeanor, though you catch his lingering glances and notice how his voice softens when he speaks to you.

Then, one evening, everything unravels.

You’re in his office, sorting through a pile of historical texts, when König storms in, his usually calm demeanor replaced by something volatile. His hands are clenched into fists, his shoulders rigid with tension.

“What happened?” you ask, startled by his uncharacteristic outburst.

“They’ve crossed the line,” he mutters, pacing the room.

You quickly piece it together. A group of students—likely the same ones from the book fair—had taken their cruelty too far. You’d heard whispers of someone posting a crude caricature of König online, mocking his mask and suggesting he wore it because he was disfigured.

“That’s awful,” you say, anger rising in your chest. “You don’t deserve this.”

He stops pacing, turning to you with an intensity that pins you in place. “You don’t understand,” he says, his voice low and almost broken. “They don’t see me as a person. Just a spectacle.”

“They’re idiots,” you say firmly, stepping closer. “You’re brilliant, kind, and passionate about what you do. Their opinions don’t define you.”

For a moment, he looks at you like he doesn’t believe you. Then his voice drops to a whisper.

“And what about you? What do you see?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “I see someone who’s more than his mask. Someone who’s strong and vulnerable at the same time. Someone worth knowing.”

The tension in the room is suffocating as König takes a step toward you, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. His gloved hand hovers near the edge of his mask.

“I’ve never shown anyone,” he admits, his voice barely audible. “But... I trust you.”

---

He removes the gloves first, revealing long, calloused fingers. Then, with deliberate care, his hands lift to the mask. You watch as he peels it away, your breath catching in your throat.

The face beneath is nothing like you imagined—though it’s clear he’s braced for rejection. A thin scar runs along his jawline, but it only adds to the rugged handsomeness of his features. His lips are full, his nose slightly crooked, and his piercing blue eyes—now paired with an expression of raw vulnerability—hold yours.

He searches your face for a reaction, his shoulders tense, as though preparing for the worst.

“You’re...” You falter, not because you’re shocked, but because the sight of him takes your breath away. “You’re beautiful.”

His brows lift in surprise, and for the first time, a genuine, unguarded smile tugs at his lips. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I mean it,” you whisper, stepping closer.

Something in him breaks. Before you can overthink it, his hands cup your face, and his lips press against yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, then deepens with the weight of all the feelings he’s been holding back.

When he pulls back, his eyes search yours. “You’re the first person to see me,” he murmurs. “The real me.”

---

Not everyone on campus is kind about the unmasking. Though König doesn’t make a public spectacle of it, rumors spread like wildfire. Some students are sympathetic, but others mock him more viciously than ever.

You see the toll it takes on him—the way he avoids crowded areas and keeps his head down. It’s heartbreaking to watch someone so brilliant doubt himself.

One day, as you’re walking together across campus, a group of students snickers loudly as you pass. König tenses, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Without thinking, you grab his hand, lacing your fingers through his. The gesture is bold, but you don’t care. You hold your head high as you lead him away, ignoring the whispers.

“That doesn’t bother you?” he asks once you’re out of earshot, his voice heavy with doubt.

“Not even a little,” you reply.

He looks at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

---

With your encouragement, König begins to embrace himself more openly. He still wears the mask during lectures, but he no longer hides in his office between classes or flinches at curious stares. Slowly, the campus begins to see him as you do: not just the masked professor, but a man of depth and passion.

Your relationship deepens as well. Late nights in his office become filled with quiet conversations and stolen kisses. You learn his quirks—how he runs his hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, how he hums to himself when he’s focused.

One evening, as you sit together on his worn leather couch, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice soft.

“You’ve changed everything for me,” he says.

“And you’ve shown me more than I ever thought possible,” you reply.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you close. In that moment, the mask and the whispers fade away, leaving only the two of you—and the love that’s been growing between you all along.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

#x reader #konig fluff #konig fanfiction #konig x y/n #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x you #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig

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sixbucks · 2 years ago

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Concept: putting out a bunch of cupcakes or whatever in the company break room and putting a little note on the tray saying “MOLON LABE 😊”.

#King Leonidas #Plutarch #molon labe #Battle of Thermopylae #ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ #Xerxes

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piracytheorist · 10 days ago

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Things about Greece you're (probably) getting wrong

When you say "Greece" or "Greek", that's automatically referring to Modern Greece and Modern Greek. It's an existing country with a population of around 10 million people. The Modern Greek language is spoken natively by those 10 million along with 1 million people in Cyprus and around 2 more million in diaspora. If you want to refer to Ancient Greece or its history/culture, just add the word "ancient" to it.

The Greek name for the country is "Hellas". "Hellenic" is an adjective used for non-human nouns. Don't call yourself "hellenic" even if you have Greek roots, you're basically calling yourself "Greek thing".

There is no one correct way of pronouncing Ancient Greek as a whole. That language spanned over a thousand years and across places that didn't communicate easily or were outright hostile to each other. It's like claiming that Shakespeare's works should be pronounced with an Australian accent.

Along with the famous 300 Spartans, in the battle of Thermopylae there were also 700 Thespians (not actors, people from the town Thespiae) and according to some sources, also 900 helots (slaves) and 400 Thebans.

The town of Sparta exists in modern day. However, if you visit Greece, unless you actually are from Sparta, do NOT call yourself a Spartan, no matter what school/university you went to. "Spartans" is the name of a far-right, outright neo-nazi political party, so calling yourself that here equals to associating yourself with that.

Greek houses in American campuses sound weird. Do those letters (some of which are wildly mispronounced, btw) even mean anything

Democracy in Ancient Athens was not fair by today's standards. It was mostly a glorified, expanded aristocracy. The "demos" that had the authority to vote only consisted of land-owning Athenian men. If you were a woman, a slave, poor, an immigrant, or a child of immigrants, along with other descriptions I might be forgetting right now, you didn't have the right to participate in the ruling.

Oh yeah, the "birthplace of democracy" very much did have slaves. Some whom were prisoners of war.

Greece is on the southern end of the Balkan peninsula, located in South-Eastern Europe. However, many Greeks are wildly racist and will not admit we're part of the Balkans or Eastern Europe. There are cultural differences due to Greek not belonging in the Slavic languages (the most common language family in Eastern Europe) and for political reasons, but the main reason this distinction happens is very much racism. They prefer to be called a "Mediterranean country" (because then we're associated with countries like Italy and Spain, you know?)

Greece never recovered from the financial crisis of 2008, and has only been going downhill since then. However, the war reparations that Germany never paid Greece for the damages and the deaths it caused in WW2 is estimated to be over 200 billion euros. The German government considers this matter "to be in the past" (since they never paid them, I guess, we can forget about it!), yet is one of the countries that most strongly demands Greece to keep paying back the loans it took over the years from the EU. This is a very painful matter for all of us (especially considering there are people still alive who witnessed the destruction and death the nazis brought to the country, and now they along with their descendants are paying taxes that'll eventually reach German pockets), yet racism centers around hate for other Balkan countries and Turkey. Divide and conquer I guess.

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ltwilliammowett · 9 months ago

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The renowned tea clipper 'Thermopylae' battling the elements, by Derek G.M. Gardner (1914-2007)

#naval art #thermopylae #late 19th century #age of steam #art

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hrrtshape · 7 days ago

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hello little library dust mites. my inbox is currently the battle of thermopylae, and i am but lucy from twin peaks working one (1) desk while simultaneously writing my stupid IAs and undergoing a very chic and glamorous psychotic break because i shifted back (!!!). please be patient. please be kind. i will get to your asks as soon as i finish pacing in circles like raskolnikov before a murder

#if you need help but i haven't replied to your ask #just dm me !!!!!!#im strong #and fierce #and i need to finish my history IA #shifting #reality shifting #shifting motivation #loa tumblr #loablr #loa blog #loa success

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carionto · 1 year ago

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Accurate Reenactments Based On Facts

Most cultures across the Galaxy do their utmost to preserve and remember their history, both the great achievements, and the terrible mistakes. Humans go a few dozen steps further.

They introduced us to a concept called "Historical reenactments" - accurate recreations of the situations and conditions of ancient events, usually battles, played out with prop equipment by real people. They also said they sometimes do these just for fun and don't care about being 100% accurate.

This particular reenactment was of a battle called Thermopylae. Using numerous historical records, they recreated the location, printed slightly lighter versions of the armor (well, helmets only for some) they wore, and dull weapons with embedded stun shockers that would create a kinetic "bump" upon contact to prevent actual injury by pushing the person back instead.

Once everyone was geared up the atmosphere changed, both visually as the holographic projectors did their thing, and from the Humans themselves - their demeanor became that of... wilderness. Ferocity. Deadly focus. It was quite fear inducing even from afar.

Then the defenders in red, the "Spartans", created a sort of spiky dome with their shields and spears. Then the attackers in blue, the "Persians" unleashed a terrifying volley of arrows, the sky hologram went darker, then a bright beam of light shone upon the defenders as they swept off arrows stuck to their shields in dramatic fashion before proceeding to charge towards their assaulting foes.

We noticed the "Spartans" were all much larger than the "Persians", and actually were equipped with subtle and very modern exoskeletons. Perplexed by this we asked if these Spartans had a very particular technological advantage for their time:

"Well, not as far as we can tell, but based on the materials we have, Spartans were, like, really buff and super strong compared to the average person of the time. Plus, according to the feats of strength they supposedly displayed, we suspect they became an extinct branch of Humanity at some point, so the exoskeletons are there to mimic what we think they were like. Anyway, look, this is the coolest part."

As they spoke, the artificial gravity was lowered slightly and there was a spike in the power output from the exoskeleton equipped Spartans. Now they were flinging the approaching Persians dozens of feet into the air, a single bare-chested man kicked three of them at once backwards at a whole group, knocking the wind out of them.

This sort of extreme violence continued for several minutes.

Suddenly, an incredibly large Persian man on a throne was carried to what was effectively the center stage. Him and a heavily bearded Spartan exchanged a dramatic dialogue, the Spartan threw his spear at the Persian, who dodged it with a single turn of his head, then proceeded to summon a massive horde of small Persians who quickly began to overrun the Spartans.

There were bodies and shields and spears and pieces of armor flying everywhere, but gradually all the red became engulfed by the blue, and only one remaining Spartan managed to wriggle his way out of the carnage and make a run for it back to their city in the distance.

Seemingly satisfied after plucking out the bearded Spartan from the pile, the giant Persian roared in triumph and this is when the reenactment ended and everyone gathered for a feast.

So this is how ancient Human Battles went, huh.

"Well, not all of them. Usually it's between more equal forces in large open fields, or prolonged sieges, which can be a bit boring to recreate.

You should come back next month, we'll be doing an old naval battle between the British Empire and Independent Pirates Lords. It ends with a really sweet whirlpool showdown. Man, what are the odds of that happening, eh?"

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #story #carionto #300 #reenactment #pirates of the caribbean #humans like movies #movies are historically accurate if you've gone through several civilization collapses

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