#Archeress

[arwendeluhtiene]

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[kayamark]

Aim the heart! Archeress (2022)

Ep 1

[novae-viking]

The urge to turn an oc into a magical girl

[amiti-art]

Cyrene, Apollo and Ares (and how it was actually only Cyrene and Apollo and Wikipedia is not always a reliable source)

Some of you might know the myth in which Apollo's lover - Cyrene met Ares and had a son named Diomedes (NOT the same guy as Diomedes from Iliad) with him.

Except... she didn't.

When I was researching Cyrene some time ago I realised that her article on Theoi (great source btw) doesn't mention Ares at all. I didn't pay that much attention to this back then, after all, most of the myths have many versions so I assumed that the one with Ares is just less popular one.

I was more preoccupied with the fact that Idmon who I always thought to be Apollo and Cyrene's son was not actually always listed as theirs and had like 5 different variants of parentage.

Let's start with Cyrene's children and why Wikipedia should not be used as a primary source.

Her Personal Information Section on Wikipedia lists 3 children: Aristaeus, Autuchus and Idmon. Later in the Family section it's said that she also had Diomedes with Ares.

For the life of me I could not find anything about Autuchus in the ancient sources BUT I found that Anthocus (which is kinda similar) was the title of Aristaeus and was sometimes mistaken for another son of the pair.

So likely it is the same mistake.

Aristaeus is also the one who is almost always said to be son of Apollo and Cyrene and both of his parents appear in his myths.

Idmon like I said had many different sets of parents: Apollo and Cyrene, Abas and Cyrene, Apollo and Asteria (NOT the sister of Leto), Apollo and Antianeira, Apollo and Abas (one is bio father, the other is foster father, I think????). He also doesn't have an article on Theoi so reserch on him is going to be a nightmer. 🙃

And now Diomedes

Wikipedia says this

But does not link any source for this story

What's more: there are sources describing Apollo changing Cyrene into a Nymph and they also don't mention Ares AT ALL. They are also written in a way that suggest that changing her into a Nymph was one of the first things Apollo did after meeting her.

This doesn't add up with this Ares thing at all.

So where did the Wikipedia article got this Cyrene-fighting-Ares story from? Well, I decided to look into edits history and this section was actually deleted a few months ago with this comment.

My honest reaction to this information: 😐

And then the section was revived for some reason.

But you know when it was first added? 2 years ago.

When did Rick's book about Greek heroes came out? 8 years ago.

So right now Cyrene's Wikipedia article is misleading and contains information from a RETELLING stated as facts.

The only thing I could find that was linking Cyrene with Ares was this:

and it doesn't even say if this is the same Cyrene. It could be, but we have to remember that in the myths there were like 14 dudes named Abas (and 5 named Idmon while we're at it.)

+this is a very late source compared to all the other Cyrene's myths.

Other source claims that Diomedes' mother was Asterie

I personaly think those are two different Cyrenes and here's why:

• Cyrene (Apollo's lover) when introduced in the myth is usually accompanied either by her parentage or by some other characteristic like "sheparderss" "huntress" "archeress" "lion slayer" and so on. Cyrene from Ares' myth has nothing to her name which makes me think she was just some random women.

• Non of Cyrene's own myths ever mention Ares (or I couldn't find any), while Apollo is mentioned often.

• Apollo's Cyrene was Thessalian and Diomedes (and therefor his mother likely as well) was Thracian

• There is literally nothing I could find that would suggest that Apollo's Cyrene and Cyrene from Ares myth are the same and since there are many characters in the mythology with the same names (again 14 Abas') labeling these two as one is irrational (Diomedes himself shares the name with one of the Iliad's characters).

Anyway, lesson for today: be careful while reading Wikipedia and always check the sources.

This kinda scares me tbh because how many more of those articles treat retellings as actual sources and were added by fans of the said retellings?

I hope somebody will fix this article because wtf

[silvaris]

Archeress   Armstreet Katarzyna Mikołajczak Photography

[krsnaradhika]

A snippet from Krishavyayam hehe-

Small points to be noted before you get started—

Kamalnayani/ Hridayaa/ Mohini are the same person. The same oc has multiple names.

Mohini is also Hari here, as we know. Hence, Mohini and Mohini it is hehe-

Please if this offends you, tell me and I'll pull it down. This is purely fiction and does not intend to offend any religious beliefs and sentiments.

You'll find the whole book on Wattpad, so cheers! ✨

She was bewitching. The woman before whom demons swooned and caelitis were rendered wordless. Dark as the zenith hour of dusk and as radiant as a nymph who rose from the cerulean waves, she had her wife in a daze for she had poof-ed out of the blue (god).

Kamalnayani looked half amused, half moonstruck as Mohini grinned at her, winking notoriously. She sported a red and black lehenga of chiffon, diamantes stuck to the flowy fringes as well as her kohl-lined eyes and she swung a vial of mead in her willowy fingers— all too coquettishly.

Why, you ask?

"Because I last saw her so long ago," Hridayaa accentuated, sheepishly batting her eyes at Kanha and linking an arm of his to hers. The latter had mirth dancing in his very handsome features and it wouldn't be wrong to say he missed those precious moments either.

Ogres raced hither and thither for one touch of Mohini who swaggered through the waves, effortlessly charming all. Flowy tresses wrapped in the whiff of lotus and pearl ornaments dangled on her voluptuous form. She was beautiful and lethal. Woman and vulpine.

"And I miss her."

He snorted out a laugh, tendrils jumping up to his forehead to kiss them and then he obstructed them with a rake of his sculpted fingers, "I am literally right here, Hridayae."

"No, Mohini." She whined, almost hopping in her place but he disciplined her with quasi glare. Krishu pouted, seeming more of a child than a mother— as if demanding not a woman but a candy. "I want Mohini! She can give me excellent company these days and you know we're nearing the due date. Also she had a kid so she can give me great parenting tips meant for mothers. Kanha pleaseeeeee?"

"As my queen pleases."

And so, Mohini and Mohini were now face to face after ages— giggling vivaciously and maniacally at each other's sight.

"So where should I escort you now, wife?"

"Jhumka shopping!" Krishu tugged her, then waddling around to the brass and copper caskets to arrange for casual robes for herself. Mohini hummed and slipped herself in the quilts of the soigne bed, then spat her beverage right through her mauve lips out of pure whammy when the whims of Kamalnayani surprised her again.

"And we're hitched. We are begetting a kid through the blessing of an austere sage. I don't want anyone ogling at you in the marketplace, hmm? They don't have any right to."

She shortly inclined her head in a yes, inarticulate. Of course, they were married.

"Right. Only you do." The goddess simpered through the chalice sitting on her mouth. Then she clipped her bracelet against her dainty wrists, kissing where the pulse chanted the name of an archeress.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

"This for Bhadra Jiji, this for Lakshu Jiji and oh— Jambavati Jiji adores teals and turquoise!"

Oxidized silver bracelets, bronze armbands, floral rings and arabesque silks brimmed the tawny stalls on wheels as the two goddesses stirred past them, riveted by the grandeur of the city that was their latibule. Krisha and Mohini walked hand in hand, occasionally picking a bloom or two to profess their love in dramatic whispers as their secretive chortles became the fantasies of little girls who watched them from afar.

The ivory and maroon turban with pearl motifs caught her attention and then she waved her hand at her husband- urhm, wife.

Kamalnayani smiled at the lady vendor who beamed at her with gentle eyes. "What do you expect?"

"A healthy baby. Nothing more." She shrugged cordially, looking over her shoulder to find Mohini partially veiling herself as she peered at the bustling streets through the rich translucence of her raiments.

"She seems new here. Do you know her?" The genial old woman squinted, "Why would she do that? Does she not know it's not normal to mantle her face in Aryan practices?"

"She's new here, Kaaki," Hridayaa answered in a jiffy as Mohini sprang to catch up with her, flashing the gleam of her cloaked dagger to the bandits who gawked at her. The bunch inhaled sharply, going about their own businesses when they recognised her as a beguiling mirage. An elusive dream.

Women with lethal beauty were to be feared. It was doltish to trust her who had other eyes trailing on every gait she took.

"Mohini. She's enchanting and gravitates a lot of attention to herself she doesn't wish for."

"Oh. Your friend?"

"This is my wife, aunt." Mohini giggled instead as the seller flushed, then ducked her head while murmuring a small apology. "No worries."

"Exquisite couple, best wishes to both of you." She fished out a leaf of tamarind from her purse, then slid the velvet turban from the honey-eyed woman to the one whose smile was as sweet as it. Kanha— now Mohini, brought a pair of suryakanthi jhumkas and slipped in Hridayaa's lotus palms.

"Pretty moms make pretty babies."

Kaaki Sulochanaa— with eyes as pulchritudinous as her name— chuckled once again at the flushed women who squirmed a little closer to each other, surreptitiously stealing gazes and then shuffling in opposite ways, the presents never seeming enough.

"Oh, so you both aren't yet out of the mushy-mushy phase?"

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The dusk and the moon and their realm in Dvaravati wasn't exotic to their ardor for each other. It was the atelier of the art they painted each other in.

The scarlet roses and ivory jasmines embraced each other in the curls of the enchantress who sat between the legs of her wife, inclining her swan neck to the side as her eyes shut themselves when ivory fingertips skimmed through her scalps and skin. The sleek obsidian waterfalls and warm breaths of the woman of flames fondled her nape and Mohini wanted to flee into the aisles to escape from her namesake, but she knew the sacred smokes and ambrosia would chase her still. For the woman who carried their child was said to have seized the sense of a thousand men too around her.

"You are seducing me, good lady Kamya?" She crooned, her voice as soothing as the psithurism of the forest they promised to be each other's.

"Keep dreaming. I have always wanted to do your shringara," Agneyaa murmured lying through her teeth and when she felt a frisson run down below her touch she smirked. "Hesitate for nothing though, darling. I am quite a charmer I am told."

Mohini let out a shuddered breath, rolling her eyes and then she caught the hand of Mohini who was yet sniggering at her. "Enough now. Your skills are laudable. I have never looked this beautiful." Her gaze traversed to the mirror which gaped at two women like long lost lovers. The stones of lapis lazuli and rubies and diamonds were bestrewed upon her lithe physique like stars on the ether. A spark birthed in her guts and she was an art. An art to be ravished by her lover.

Kamalnayani giggled and pressed a chaste kiss to the cheeks of that beauty who turned pink. Then she filled the dips of the curves of Mohini's spine with her fingers binding the kamarbandh, husking near her earlobes, "Lies."

She stifled the throes of her heart and an amaranthine smile stayed on her visage. As they multiplied and she was unwavered, she was the epitome of every mother. Mohini whisked around and pulled her in a slow dance, unhurried and buoyant as their limbs swayed in poised waves— grinning as they found forelsket again and again.

Afterall, nightmares were dreams too. The heart of Keshava was living a vision of a lover for now.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Kanha found blue roses, azure water lilies and peacock feathers all tied together by a string as a gauzy navy robe enveloped them. "They reminded me of you, love." The whimsical note read, stuck to the spruce wood table and he grinned plucking them from it.

"And oh, I loved being with Mohini."

He was a fuchsia yet again.

The setting was an atelier of a picturesque art in making— born of the love of an archeress and the chakradhaari.

[artinandwritin]

The archeress herself <333

@rosiethedragongeek a little Siri for all our pleasures!!

[fangirleaconmigo]

Prince Jaskier x Gladiator/Bed Warmer Geralt Fic Idea

Part one

Part two (in the reblog)

Part three:

The next morning, Jaskier is invited to take a meal with the royal family. He recognizes that this is another good sign. It means he performed well the day before. He convinced the king that he appreciated the gift of the warrior's body. 

However, he is not the same man he was yesterday.  He is no longer confident and boisterous. Today he is anxious and afraid. He made promises last night, and he has no idea how he will keep them. The champion's golden eyes burn in his consciousness. The idea that Jaskier could fail him threatens to take him apart. 

He asks for Yen and Milva to be invited to the meal as well, because he needs some familiar (if not, in the case of Yen, friendly) faces.

It helps, and is probably is what saves him from exploding when the queen asks how their champion was last night. Was he obedient? Was he sweet? He didn't try anything did he? Sometimes he's jumpy with new people.

Jaskier feels the hot coals glowing in his gut, but he manages to keep his mouth clamped shut. Milva, however, does not. Her shock that Jaskier took a bed slave for the night is too much. The entire room hears her outraged yelp. She never could hold her temper. Her outburst is quickly silenced by Yen. Jaskier knows that hand motion. Yen is performing magic. Soon, Milva is nauseated, and Yen excuses them both from the room. "My deepest apologies, our noble archeress has fallen ill."

There is consternation on the part of the king and queen. The queen mutters something about the savage probably being unused to food that has been washed before consumption.

Jaskier feels horrified, yes, but also a bit relieved. They have forgotten about his answer, so he doesn't have to pretend that he ravished the warrior.

Before Yen leaves with Milva propped on her arm, she gives Jaskier a stern look. He knows that look. It says...do not burn this fucking place down while I am gone. It is his desire to prove his worth to a dubious Yen that helps him keeps his wits about him.

He waits for the conversation to slip into a pleasant lull filled with sipping and the clattering of dishes. He clears his throat and says that watching the games has woken something in him. He wants to learn to fight. A man, especially a leader, should be strong. He asks to spar with the champion. To train with him.

The king laughs. He says that Jaskier will learn everything important in his kingdom. To fuck and to fight. He says that Jaskier's father sent him a boy and he will return him a man.

Jaskier feels somewhat better having a plan to see the warrior again. He does just fine the rest of the meal. He treats it like a performance. When he overcompensates with exaggerated charm and insincere flattery, he is quite able to fake it with the best of them. It is a talent he never even knew he had. Also, delivering an arsenal of veiled, passive aggressive insults that his targets are too arrogant to pick up on, makes him feel a tiny bit better.

His slight satisfaction dissipates when he returns to his room. The moment he closes the door behind him he is seized by the collar and thrown against a wall. 

"If I had known the sweet little brat I've put years of my life into training would turn to conquering hero," Milva spits bitterly, "the moment he is offered the slightest royal privilege, I would have put an arrow in him..."

Yen subdues Milva once again, only without magic this time. She pulls the archeress off of the prince.

"Calm down, Milva. Take your hands off his highness. He didn't...conquer...anybody."

"No? They certainly thought you did--"

Jaskier pleads his case. He didn't touch him! In fact, the warrior touched him. Just one whisper of a callous down his cheekbone while he was asleep. At least that is what he thinks. Maybe it was a dream. He touches his cheek and looks into the middle distance.

Yen laughs. "His highness is sweet on him, don't you see, Milva?"

Jaskier splutters and reflexively tries to deny it. 

Yen shakes her head. "Why do you think he has been so obedient when his parents have forbad him from cavorting with noble ladies and lusty wenches? Why do you think he looks so flushed and pleased when one of the noble knights winks at him in the stands? He loves warriors. And this one...this one with the sad story. He's like fisstech in his veins."

Jaskier is furious. It is true, ok? But it is also wrong what they are doing to the warrior. He tells them that the warrior tried so hard to stay awake that he didn't surrender to sleep until after daybreak. He tells them that when he woke the warrior, the man almost leapt out of his skin with shock and fear. Jaskier says that it broke his heart. It shattered it. He wants to free the warrior. They have to help him figure out how.

Yen reminds him that they cannot change anything here until they can get some kind of leverage or power. He needs the treaty, and he needs the marriage. And what's more, he agreed to exercise restraint. To keep his mouth shut about these kinds of thing until they were in a better position to fix them.

Yes, he says, but he didn't *know* what that really meant when he made that promise. He knew it in his mind, but it was another thing to see it. To feel it.

Yen tells him she understands, but that he will learn. It is like this in almost every kingdom. How many sorceresses in king's courts are treated as nothing more than bedwarmers? She says that in her first assignment, that is how she was treated.

"Does that make it right?" asks Jaskier.

"No!" she retorts. But the warrior is not the person to whom Jaskier owes a sacred duty to protect. That is his people, and they are suffering. She reminds him of the collapsed mine, the impending hunger and poverty. She reminds him that his mother is ill and needs a steady supply of the river algae from this kingdom. If he abandons his subjects and loved ones because of his eager cock and his impulsive heart, he will fail his father, and he will fail them all. After all, he didn't even look at the princess the entire meal. He needs to do better than that. "Your highness." she adds on the end.

Jaskier's face takes a journey while Yen is speaking. First, he is angry. But at the mention of his people and his mother, he looks so dejected that Milva takes pity on him. She throws her arms around him, hugging him tight. She is relieved that he is still the sweet little brat she knows him to be.

They are interrupted by a knock on the door. The guards are there to escort Jaskier to his training session with the warrior. Yen and Milva's jaws both drop open in shock.

"You have a training session, your highness?" Yennefer asks, her voice so shrill it almost squeaks..

The guards motion for Jaskier to follow them. As their backs turn, Jaskier looks back at Yen and Milva, smiling sheepishly. "I meant to tell you. You were just talking so much I couldn't get in a word edgewise." He shrugs and Yen almost turns purple. 

"Fuck that," says Milva. "He could crush your skull like a grape. I'm going too." She pulls on her bow and moves to join him. Jaskier has turned to follow the guards but he flips around and plants his feet. “No. If I bring an assassin with me, he isn’t going to trust me.”

“So you’d rather be dead?” Milva asks incredulously.

“I won’t die. I trust him.”

Yen rubs her temples. “Dear gods.”

"Besides," says Jaskier. "The palace guards will be with me."

"I don't trust them to protect you the way I would."

Jaskier shrugs again and follows the guards, leaving his advisor and his protector fuming and frustrated.

----

Geralt is inside the gladiator quarters doing calisthenics. He has spent the morning suffocating every feeling the young prince provoked in him. He has been focusing on his next match, and on the form of his body as he performs the training exercises. He has just managed to banish the image of the handsome young face and the feeling of hot skin under the tip of his finger.

Just as he is crouching, about to perform a long jump, he hears the sound of a musical, haughty voice outside his door.

"No, it has to be the White Wolf. I only want the best."

Geralt loses his balance. As he hits the dirt, skidding to a stop on his knees, he looks to the sky. The barracks are under the coliseum, so in truth he looks at the rafters. He has never believed in the gods, but it doesn't stop him from muttering what sounds like a prayer.

Give me strength.

PART FOUR

-----------

My Note:

I am not sure if these posts, which are sort of like summaries or descriptions of what I'm going to write, (but are not full fics), are what people want to be tagged on. So I'll probably wait to use the tag list until I start posting the full fic.

I will probably post one or two more of these, but at some point I'm going to just start posting the full fic instead. Because as I plot and outline, there are a ton of details I need to weave in to complete a plot.

For example, Milva and Yen popped up in this one. Now that I have a full plot, Yen is going to be his father's top political advisor who accompanies him. She is extremely nervous about having an amateur on this mission. Milva (a character from the books) is going to be his archery instructor (and official national emissary to Brokilon) who is serving as his security on the trip.

Alright! Tell me what you're thinking.

[discountalien-pancake]

Tailor vs dressmaker and the unnecessary gendering of professional titles:

Tailor is not a gendered word! It was, for a long time and like many others, a gender-exclusive profession, but the word itself is no more gendered than, say, doctor or lawyer or nurse. It is both unnecessary and counterproductive to feminize tailor to ‘tailoress.’ Much like how it’s ridiculous to feminize dragon and archer to dragoness and archeress. If you use tailoring methods, you are a tailor, it’s that fucking simple.

If you draft flat patterns based on measurements you are a tailor! Even if you are making a dress!

If you draft patterns by draping them on a three-dimensional form you are a dressmaker! Even if you’re not making a dress!

[ronoken]

Something, Something, Magic

The door to the stairwell was slowly opening.

Through the mesh window in the stairwell door, Gina could see black shapes moving about. Gina grabbed the handle of the stairwell door and pulled it shut, but whatever was on the other side was fighting her.

“This way’s blocked,” Gina called. Archeress kept pointing her arrow at different shapes slowly emerging in the hallway, but as they started to come into view, the girls realized they weren’t like the metal monsters from before. The things in the hallway were clearly nurses, doctors, patients… people. Thick purple veins could be seen under their skin, standing out like grotesque roadmaps on a chalk-white surface. They were spreading from areas on their necks and arms. Their eyes were a solid white.

“Are they dead?” Archeress asked. “Can I shoot them?”

“I don’t know!” Gina cried out. “I’m not a zombie expert!”

“You knew about nanites. Are nanite zombies dead and can you shoot them?”

***

Meet Gina Mosey. She's the newest magical girl superhero in town, and she's having a helluva week.

Something, Something, Magic is available now in the Kindle store! Get your digital copy, today!

[afallenunicorn]

Arm Street

“Archeress” Collection

Source: https://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-flax-linen-dress-archeress-with-undertunic-and-corset

[angyvalentine]

Oh yep some other works for Lysandra.

We all know that Faye was a great warrior, but what is often forgotten is that Lysandra as well probably knew how to fight - she was a Spartan. And Spartan women were trained to fight just like men.

Given she was the opposite of her beloved (always pretty much impetuous lmao) husband, I always thought of her as a calm, sweet - yet stern when needed - woman. So, why not trained as an archeress as well?

Calm, yet deadly.

(I honestly would love to know how Kratos and her met - sorry but the comic lacks SO BADLY in details-, and why did he fall so in love with her.)

Lysandra © Santa Monica Studio

[violetmoondaughter]

Artemis

Hear me, oh Queen, many-named daughter of Zeus, Titanís, loud-roarer, renowned, archeress, exalted, Shining on all, torchbearer goddess, Díktinna, protectress of childbirth, Helper in a woman's travail while never having yourself the pain of childbirth, Inducing women’s travail, inspiring delirium, huntress, driving cares away, Youthful runner, shooter of arrows, fond of the chase, you roam through the night, Celebrated, gracious one, liberator, manly one, Orthia, bestowing quick childbirth, daimon that feeds the children of mortals, wild, earthy, slayer of wild beasts, blessed, You dwell in the mountains and forests, hunter of deer, revered, Mistress, queen of all, beautiful scion, forever to be Haunting the forests, protectress of dogs, Cydonia, many-shaped, Come, Goddess deliverer, beloved one, to all your mystics. Be accessible, bringing the splendid fruits of the earth, Lovely peace, beautiful locks of hair and health; Drive away disease and pain to the top of the mountains.

Κλῦθί μευ, ὦ βασίλεια, Διὸς πολυώνυμε κούρη, Τιτηνίς, βρομίη, μεγαλώνυμε, τοξότι, σεμνή, πασιφαής, δαιδοῦχε, θεά Δίκτυννα, λοχείη, ὠδίνων ἐπαρωγὲ, καὶ ὠδίνων ἀμύητε· λυσίζωνε, φίλοιστρε, κυνηγέτι, λυσιμέριμνε, εὔδρομος, ἰοχέαιρα, φιλαγρότι, νυκτερόφοιτε, κλεισίη, εὐάντητε, λυτηρίη, ἀρσενόμορφε, ὀρθίη, ὠκυλόχεια, βροτῶν κουροτρόφε δαῖμον, ἀγροτέρη, χθονίη, θηροκτόνος, ὀλβιόμοιρε· ἣ κατέχεις ὀρέων δρυμούς, ἐλαφηβόλε, σεμνή, πότνια, παμβασίλεια, καλὸν θάλος αἰὲν ἐοῦσα· δρυμονία, σκυλακῖτι, Κυδωνιάς, αἰολόμορφε. ἐλθέ, θεὰ σώτειρα, φίλη, μύστῃσιν ἅπασιν, εὐάντητος, ἄγουσα καλοὺς καρποὺς ἀπὸ γαίης, εἰρήνην τ’ ἐρατὴν καλλιπλόκαμόν θ’ ὑγίειαν· πέμποις δ’ εἰς ὀρέων κεφαλὰς νούσους τε καὶ ἄλγη.

[dreebo]

Victorian archeress, c. 1850.