basileuus - Tumblr blog

[basileuus]

ATTENTION !

    i’m going to be archiving this blog and moving the kids to @excathedras​.  i’m currently running three active blogs and a lot of my muse gets lost with my laziness of having to log in and out and see who messaged me where and all that junk,  so i’m biting the bullet and admitting that i have more than like five muses ( i’m at a comfy nine total rn ).  

    IF  WE  HAVE  AN  ACTIVE  THREAD  and it’s my turn,  it’s in the drafts of the new blog.  if it’s your turn and you want to continue it, just tag the new blog in you rb if you please.

     SOME  MUSES  ARE  BEING  DROPPED  IN  THE  MOVE and this is bc there isn’t a lot of interest or like only one person writes with them.  if you are that one person,  you are still valid,  so those muses (  atticus,  hadrian,  sabina,  etc.  )  will go into a little auxiliary muse page with a list of them,  and they will be written once in a blue moon,  usually after plotting things. 

    thanks for bearing with me through all of this crazy moving !

[basileuus]

anyway i’m gonna be quietly doing some maintenance here and on the blog i’m moving this one to plus working on mendacius’s bio.  i may or may not be in im too much bc i am uhhh recovering from heat exhaustion audakjdfakldj

[basileuus]

honestly nothing delights me more than the knowledge that mendacius could literally lie to people and take their money that way or go invisible from the police or just make them disappear but they just chooses to commit armed robbery and get away from the cops via a corolla

[basileuus]

man the ancients were onto somethin with this lying down eating business

[basileuus]

     THE  SKY  WAS  A  PREPARATORY  SHADE  of violet as the sky began to lighten.  He sighed and stretched against the bed,  turning over fluidly and shuffling back to press against his bedfellow just to find that his side is vacant.  Hypnos lingers,  pulling the covers higher over his shoulders,  wreathed in the smell of Apollo,  embraced by the subtle imprint of his body.  He doesn’t remember when he began to imprint on the island,  when the flowers in the garden stared at him as he walked by and the strange creatures of the wood stopped prowling about the house at night,  when he no longer became a stranger here,  a visitor.  It is his home as much as it is Hypnos’s ;  the primordial god was naive to believe that this could ever end.  Such simplicity is the nature of his family line.  Not at all the same for the Olympians.  The lingering tendrils of morning slumber invite him to doze,  and he tears them off suddenly,  colourful irises opening to take in the pale light of the room.  Hypnos bolts up,  and the bed creaks beneath him.  Apollo’s bow is absent from its place beside the chest of drawers.  He thrashes in the bed,  fighting his way out,  the covers wrapping around his feet.  Hypnos goes to the window and pushes the thin linen curtains back,  gazes through the gossamer shimmer of Lemnos.  The sun presses against the watery eastern horizon.

     Hypnos dresses frantically in an olive tunic,  cinching it haphazardly at his waist and running a hand through his hair.  He takes his spear and runs down the steep wooden stairs,  leaving the door ajar as he pushes out of it,  sprinting past his garden and down the cobblestone road leading up to the edge of the promontory.  The tree branches stretch out of his way,  parting as he races through the dew - laden undergrowth.  He reaches the small stretch of meadow just before the beach and sees Apollo in the light of the blushing dawn,  painting him radiant,  a golden corona illuminating his silhouette.  

     He half flies,  half runs down the grassy knoll leading down to the beach.  Refuse from the storm litters the stretch of sandy waves rising out of the patient seas.  Crates lie broken,  long planks splintered and broken among mortal trinkets and smashed produce.  The sand,  still cool from the night,  is slippery beneath his sandals,  and it grates between his toes and dusts his ankles like sugar.  He stands before Apollo,  looking up at him with a living forest in his eyes,  contention and adoration,  life and death existing there in the woods.  Hypnos wasn’t prepared for this,  he isn’t prepared.  

     “You do me a disservice ;  I am not helpless,  nor am I weak in comparison to your kin ;  quite the contrary.  I have held my own,  and I still do to this day,  and I want to come with you.”  His eyes soften,  past the dedication of his epithet,  to a muted tone that betrays his sadness.  Hypnos’s knuckles rub across Apollo’s jaw,  the light trace of stubble soft against his fingers.  “My sun,  my stars,”  his words are quiet,  barely a midnight breeze,  barely a distant chirps of a cricket,  “you were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

[basileuus]

[basileuus]

hi i just took an hour nap in my car with the windows shut and its 106 degrees outside rn and i feel really lightheaded and weak and im shivering should i go to the hospital lmaoooo

[basileuus]

Fionn Whitehead as Stefan Butler in Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (2018)

[basileuus]

honestly ! this fc business is tough ok bc part of me says that mendacius should be a white boy of the month and the other part of me wants them to be literally all the women i’ve thirsted for and neither of those two categories look as classical as i want them to so

[basileuus]

MENDACIUS  HEACANONS

their relationship with their family is pretty bad,  mostly bc all of their godheads compete with each other,  and their childhood wasn’t great for that reason,  which is why they sought out apprenticeship so young.  however,  they are closest to hypnos and thanatos,  who are the only chill ones in their family

i’m gonna be real tho prometheus was more of a father to them than their parents ever were ajdnfajdal

prometheus really convinced mendacius that they aren’t inherently bad and how their godhead doesnt mean that they can only be evil,  but once prometheus ate shit via zeus for the sake of mortals like. sis snapped and never had that same self confidence in goodness again

they’re actually always stealing drugs from hypnos

they have many homes all over the world ;  the one they’re currently living in depends on the verse.  in their ancient verse,  they live in a small villa outside thebes.  in their modern verse,  they have an old victorian style house in washington dc,  but they mostly like to travel in their rv ljalkdjgladkjg

no one really prays or worships them in a traditional sense,  except for like.  magicians,  sculptors,  thieves,  and  scam  artists in the ancient world,  but lying and tricking people and stuff count as offerings,  whether intentional or unintentional

the concept of reality and finality genuinely terrify them

[basileuus]

@theophanie.

     THERE  IS  MONEY  TO  be made in Paris.  Easy money of all sorts.  It is the city of love,  which means the city of doe - eyed tourists with their hearts as full as their wallets,  hand - in - hand with their loved ones,  milling about the Latin Quarter and the Parc des Buttes - Chaumont and all along the Seine.  They often like to lead tour groups to urban decay behind the chic cafes and hedges of white camellias to give a more behind the scenes look at Paris,  specifically exhibitions of dead rats mashed and dried into the asphalt and stray needles behind dumpsters.  If they choose to give more traditional looks at the city,  they make sure to include their own personal revisions to the history behind it all.  On other days,  they choose to exploit the sensitive testosterone milling about the place for a mind game along the Seine to,  of course,  impress the girl. 

     Those are past times,  however.  They take a great care and enjoyment out of replicating entire buildings,  warping the visible plane to hide away one while mortals venture into his fun house.  Eyeballs peer from chandelier lights,  and classical paintings move along with their scenes,  water lilies of Giverny slowly floating beneath a steadily setting sun,  statues move from pedestal to pedestal.  The mortals walk from room to room to room,  each growing more concerned by the eccentricity of the museum  but too afraid of sounding shallow and uncultured to voice it,  in an eternal museum growing more maddening as the galleries go on,  until they are hunted through a labyrinth by David and Discobolus,  Lehmbruck’s Seated Youth and Giacometti’s Chariot.  

     Mendacius sits on an unfolded cardboard box outside the Musée de l’Orangerie,  the real Musée de l’Orangerie,  shuffling a deck of gold - lettered cards that shimmer in the evening light even as the shadows grow to envelope him.  The smell of the Seine wafts on the cool breeze,  mixing with the scent of citrus and the obtuse,  pungent smell of sunblock.  A school group,  American sounding,  migrates down the sidewalk,  and stops to gather around the stressed,  exhausted looking adult.  They can barely make out what she says,  but it doesn’t matter.  The students disband,  each with a map,  a pack,  and a neon paper bracelet around their wrists.  Mendacius shuffles their cards again and is just about to offer to tell fortunes when someone much more interesting passes by. 

     “Casper,”  they rasp,  disguised as an old homeless man with a smoking habit to put a corps de ballet member of the Paris Opera Ballet to shame and a visage so plain they both stood out and blended in with the scenery.  “I was wondering when we would finally meet ;  I’ve had a close eye on your work.”

[basileuus]

hi mendacius has never paid for a single thing in their entire life. they have also never stolen anything. they barter and gamble through sleight of hand tricks and empty promises

[basileuus]

     THE  WORLD  IS  ALL  but a shade darker than the slate grey that dominated his youth.  The world cold and growing colder.  Standing at the top of the badlands that stood above his kin,  Hypnos would see the blackened shapes of rock standing out of the shoals of stagnant water and the billows of ash rising up and blowing across the dreadful plane.  The arc of the dull sun was followed unseen beyond the murk congealed above him.  He would wake to the sound of distant thunder,  and the sightless,  impenetrable darkness that would swallow him as he slept as gone,  leaving a faint light all around Hypnos,  wavering and sourceless,  refracted in the rain.  He would rise,  despite his father telling him that everything was alright,  and sometimes,  in the distance,  he could make out a man with broad shoulders searching through the valley,  his beard warped and grainy by the soot that never seemed to stop blowing.  Sight is a powerful thing ;  we do not easily erase that which has been painted on our minds.  Surely I cannot remember everything.  The things you wish to hold onto will be taken from you by time,  while the things you try to relinquish will remain forever.

     “If it did not matter to me,  I would not have asked.”  Hypnos flinches at his own brusqueness,  the anxiety wavering in his eyes displaced by the upset underlying it.  “I apologise,”  he says,  brushing Apollo’s forearm tentatively,  amiably,  “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”  A  lightning  bolt  pierces  the clouds,  rushing down to the oceanic horizon,  tendrils breaking off from the blinding white bolt to reach across the sky.  It is gone in a breath,  leaving only the suspension of silence to reign before the world cowers beneath the roaring thunder,  and the torrents of rain fall with even more fervor.  “You are probably right ;  it isn’t anything.  Go lie down,  and I’ll be with you in a moment.”  His fingers run down Apollo’s forearm,  curling around a calloused hand before falling to his side once more.

[basileuus]

ATTENTION !

     so i started a new summer class today,  which is a five week,  three credit course,  which means that it’s super rigorous and super demanding.  with this on top of my calc 2 class,  which won’t be done until 23 july,  being a guinea pig for my music composition friend,  work,  preparing to move ( ! ),  the sudden sadness at not having my brother around for five weeks,  and life,  my activity will be pretty sporadic !  this doesn’t mean that i’m not writing per say,  as i have to stay sane,  but it’ll be pretty wonky.  please remember that if i’m online but not replying to a thread or ask,  i’m not ignoring you,  my head is just full of static,  and i need to be buzzing at a certain frequency to write well,  and,  unfortunately,  that frequency is not the same as all the other channels i need to be tuned into to do all of those aforementioned things.  i’ll still be pretty easily reached in my im,  and even easier in my dis.co ( kara ra rasputin#2846 pls identify yourself ! ).  here’s a comprehensive list of all my active blogs atm:

     -  @aeterrnam  ( tsh multi muse )      -  @basileuus ( ancient history and mythology multi muse )      -  @inversicn ( the awful man himself, lucifer )      -  @babybrutus ( my personal )

     technically,  my classes are all done by 9 aug, but i’m moving on 13 august,  so i guess we’ll see how things are then !

[basileuus]

@gildedtm.  (  x  )

“  my father is angry.   ”     head  rested  against  the  pillow , his  words  spoken  through  half-lidded  eyes  showed  little  concern  for  what  was  raging  on  outside.  rain  pounded  against  the  windows  and  obscured  the  view  to  the  rest  of  the  world , but  apollo  could  not  bring  himself  to  care  much.   thunder  shaking  the  ground  in  the  distance  was  nothing  but  white  noise  that  eased  him  closer  to  sleep.  

his  entire  worldview  existed  in  this  very  moment.  turning  a  blind  eye  to  the  prophecies  and  the  voices  that  coexisted  in  his  mind , apollo  focuses  only  on  the  god  that  lay  beside  him. he  refuses  to  see  past  the  shores  of  lemnos , and  even  his  dreams  revolved  around  the  god  of  sleep. he  has  wondered  often  if  he  were  merely  in  love  or  if  the  god  of  dreams  purposely  appeared  in  his  more  frequently.  he  has  not  found  the  words  to  ask , but  trusts  little  in  coincidence  and  feels  he  already  knows  the  answer.    “   do  not  worry , it  will  pass  and  the  sun  will  come  out …  tomorrow.   ”

     WRATHFUL  MAELSTROMS  RAMPAGING  AGAINST  the little island are not uncommon ;  in fact,  such is how most souls find themselves lost in the shimmering,  shining haze of that dreadful wood,  destined to a horrible death among the nightmares from deep in the recesses in their minds.  There is,  however,  a distinct difference between a swirling tempest,  a typhoon churning its way through the open sea,  and the anger of the King of the Gods,  and Hypnos has had many years to know the difference between the two.  He can still remember the years that passed during the awful Titanomachy,  his family asleep in the unformed Underworld by his own doing to keep them safe from Titan and Olympian alike.  Their primordial penchant to pick no side made them an enemy of both,  and Hypnos had been the only one to guard them, accompanied by his father,  who was naught more than a chaotic plume of darkness conjured from the Void.  He has kept his struggle to himself for many years,  dreading any glorious conflict that might sprout should he say a word of it.  

     The shutters in the bedroom fly open suddenly with a clatter as they hit the wall,  rattling loudly against the side of the house.  Hypnos is quick to jump out of bed and right them,  tugging the window up with a grunt and pulling the shutters back in,  fitting the latch together once more.  Rain blows inside, stinging Hypnos’s warm skin and making the sedona tile glitter with water.  He pulls the window down and locks it,  Hypnos lingers for just a moment to gaze outside. The lackadaisical willows whip about wildly,  so unstable he waits for them to uproot and fly away into the oceanic horizon.  The sky is moonless,  starless.  There is nothing out there but the dreadful storm.  

     “What has upset him?  Do you know?”  He should let Apollo sleep ;  Hypnos has never known anyone,  god or mortal,  to be so resistant to rest at times.  He understands the fears that come with surrendering one’s control to the whim of their subconscious,  but Hypnos knows that whatever fearful abomination he conjures to terrorise him while he sleeps,  it is never real.  Apollo does not have that luxury.  Still,  he asks anyway.  

[basileuus]

ATTENTION !

     so i started a new summer class today,  which is a five week,  three credit course,  which means that it’s super rigorous and super demanding.  with this on top of my calc 2 class,  which won’t be done until 23 july,  being a guinea pig for my music composition friend,  work,  preparing to move ( ! ),  the sudden sadness at not having my brother around for five weeks,  and life,  my activity will be pretty sporadic !  this doesn’t mean that i’m not writing per say,  as i have to stay sane,  but it’ll be pretty wonky.  please remember that if i’m online but not replying to a thread or ask,  i’m not ignoring you,  my head is just full of static,  and i need to be buzzing at a certain frequency to write well,  and,  unfortunately,  that frequency is not the same as all the other channels i need to be tuned into to do all of those aforementioned things.  i’ll still be pretty easily reached in my im,  and even easier in my dis.co ( kara ra rasputin#2846 pls identify yourself ! ).  here’s a comprehensive list of all my active blogs atm:

     -  @aeterrnam  ( tsh multi muse )      -  @basileuus ( ancient history and mythology multi muse )      -  @inversicn ( the awful man himself, lucifer )      -  @babybrutus ( my personal )

     technically,  my classes are all done by 9 aug, but i’m moving on 13 august,  so i guess we’ll see how things are then !

[basileuus]

hi anyway i’m gonna move this blog ( at some point ) to @excathedras at some point