#HELIO SPOTTED!!!!!!!!

[exoticdox]

helio mention!!!!!!! you color so nicely..... <3

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[silentgrim]

(?????)

[frobby]

Congrats to kyuushi for being too popular

[tunas-spriting]

some concept things of helios with their strife weapon and their god tier :)

[spotlightstudios]

Guess who finished Every Quest in arc 1 of bg3... and then went and made a new save...

ANYWAYS here's Helios, spiritual successor to my first ever bg3 character

He's a College of Swords bard who comes from a noble background. Should he have joined the guard or stayed at home and fenced competitively? Yes. Is he a spoiled brat so he left to become a bard? Also yes.

He thrives on chaos and telling tall tales and being the most important person in the room. (I am going to attempt a Wyll romance here. Wyll will fix Helios and mellow him out surely.) I will NOT put Gale on my team. Or Karlach. Or Lae'zel. They're too charming and I will fall for them. Again. ...Astarion gets to stay tho. I think I'd die without him.

[abyssyby]

where the light touches

— a cold war brews between you and sylus in the trenches of the night; mornings are for making amends.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: so the dragon's hoard photo album on sylus's phone drabble has been running in my mind since i wrote it, and now that post might just be another masterlist. magnum opus is a godsend and i just love his laugh, i wanna hear him giggle and laugh forever okay ( ;´ - `;) a little origin story of some videos that are saved in his "sleeping 📂" album. this is part one. enjoy! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | fluff, comfort, giggly!sylus, overdramatic!reader (we love them), banter, morning cuddles

You rise with the sun. It has always been this way. Whether it’s tendrils seeping in through the curtains just as the planet turns to face Helios caressing you gently or it blasting you the heat of its full concentration by noon, you will rise in the day. 

Sylus rises with the moon. Something you’ve envied. A more tranquil beginning to wake underneath the gentle caress of a radiant pearl, to the silence of the world. He acts accordingly as well, unhurried and unperturbed by the bustle of life. Calm and collected, a sharp contrast to your energetic and flurried morning body. A more peaceful existence.

And yet, he insists on rising with you. 

Heat wakes you this morning, but not from the angry ball of gas in the sky. No, this is warmth. An internal, direct sensation that radiates from behind, from another body, another soul.

Your eyes open slowly to the gradience of the emerging sun. Darkened values of the world edging carefully with its celestial hue. A reflexive worry grips at you. Hammer to a tendon, your muscles twitch to stand— toward the curtains. To draw them closed before it all becomes blinding. 

But the vice-like grip around your waist keeps you in place. An indignant grumble tickles the hairs on the nape of your neck and sends shivers down your spine. Sleepy, raspy, deep. “Stop.” 

Still tangled in the webs of your own fatigue, you respond. “The windows—“ 

“Leave them.” he sighs, like a formidable ancient creature, and strengthens his hold around you. In one smooth motion, he flips you both from your spot. Now, his back is to the light and you are shielded from it. An instinct-driven movement, to keep you from something that he cannot stand. 

Then comes the realization that you bask in this, and so he flattens himself to the mattress ever so slightly so that the light touches your features just so. Through his half-lidded gaze, he takes pride in the decision, watching your majesty glow like molten gold. 

Sylus has sensitive eyes. You know this, you’ve seen it before, when you idled too much after waking to watch him sleep. Meanwhile, the light had slithered in through the windowed walls. Silken features scrunch, a deep crease formed between his brows, and a sizzling wince escaped his lips. 

You were quick to kiss the pain away, thinking it was nightmares that plagued him. But when his lips curled and he met you with squinted eyes that smiled just as divinely at the corners, you realize the transgressor was more luminescent than haunting. 

You stay, then, in his arms. Cocooned perfectly like he was made for you. Like you were two halves of the same whole. 

And he holds you. Like you were made for him to. Quietly, stubbornly— unwilling to let the morning steal you from him just yet. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Waking is a slow process on the rare days when the world does not call upon you. A collection of soft kisses and gentle whispers; quiet intentions and passionate touches. You are never angry, never troubled, not when the soul—yours and his—is complete. 

He mourns you when you draw away from him— “gotta pee”. After his dramatic protests, your efforts of being free from his fly-paper grasp and your cat-like fists pushing at his chest to “let me go! or i’ll go right here!”, he eventually relents and you waddle over the cold marble floors to your throne.

Alone, he sits up in bed and takes in the light that consumes the room with an irritated scowl. It urges him to catch the duvet that had fallen to his bare waist and pull it over his head. Under the covers, he checks his phone. 

Messages from the twins reporting on a finished mission (to which he replies a clipped ‘ok’). Offers from business partners he had little to no interest in. Invitations to auctions and galas. Updates on the available plushies at your favorite arcade this week. Incident reports. 

Trivial. Unnecessary. Boring. 

Until he finds one— buried amongst them all— so glaringly different and alarming. A text message, sent four hours ago— from you. 

Curious, he opens your thread of messages. 

Beloved: How could you do this to me You will pay. This is unforgivable

And before he even has the time to panic, he scrolls to see the video attached to it. Its obscure darkness and suspicious angle does nothing to deter him.  

And as it plays, he cannot hold back his smile. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The mound on your bed is laughing. Jostled wine, spilling at the edges of glass. Breathy, rich and smooth; rare and familiar all at once. Signature exhale, fond and effortful, clear as the giggling ends. 

You crawl over the covers, towards the trembling hump and poke at where his head should be. The veil comes off, and mirthful rubies meet your inquisitive gaze. You take in his grin, and then the phone in his hand, “What’s so funny? Can I see?” 

Air meets your hand where the phone should be after your attempt at a grab. He looks annoying, looking at you like that: like he knows something you don’t. Dopey heart-eyes with an edge. Unconsciously, you pout, which fuels his mischievous fire. “What’s is it?” 

Buttering him up is a sight for him to behold. You curl around him, fitting yourself under the weight of his arm and kissing his jaw to convince him to give it up. A cat seeking comfort. A snake strangling its prey. “Tell me.” 

And the melody starts again, hitching in his chest and shaking you whose cheek rests on his shoulder. He cannot fathom how you could be everything he’s ever wished for— how could you be quick-witted, clever, strong, courageous and hilarious? You’re adorable and so, so funny. 

“Aren’t you fuming with anger?” he’s breathless. You’ve never seen him so. “Aren’t I just evil? Vile?” 

You pause. What? Why would he say that? Why is he saying it in a way that implies you should know what it means? “Sylus, I don’t…” 

At the hesitant look on your face, complete with twinkling puppy-dog eyes and a slightly jutted lip, he can’t help but lean in and kiss your forehead. White flag raised, because he is helpless to a power like you. He pulls you close, and finally shows you the video.  

Brightness is all the way up and, on the edge, you see him toggle with the volume too. The video starts with you being attacked by the front facing flash. You wince, but then go straight into your very serious, very important lamenting.

“Look at you,” you murmur, the sound scratching against your throat as if still crawling away from the grasp of a dream. The focus shifts to Sylus, fast asleep, burrito-ed in the large comforter. Love of your life, tether to the world; giant larvae. “Evil… vile.” 

The last word you grate through your teeth with so much venom, one would assume he’d betrayed you. 

It crosses your mind though, as you watch, how deeply he was sleeping. How untroubled and peaceful he looked, no matter how much you shook him around in your own frenzied irritation. When usually, he’d wake fully at the sound of your breath hitching from a nightmare.

In the video, you continue: face close to his own, pressing your lips to his cheek because it was mandatory. His lips twitch but he shows no signs of waking. “Tsk. I’m mad. I’m cold? I’m cold and I’m mad. Count your days.” 

The video ends. Beneath it, you read your equally vehement text messages. Sent 2:43 AM. 

Sylus is laughing again, subtly pulling you closer to apologize while the memory comes back to you in vague waves of annoyance.

Waking up shivering, feeling for the blanket, feeling for him— finding both out of reach. You prying the edge from under his large body— how the hell did he manage to roll in it at least twice?— settling for pressing your cold feet underneath his warm calves and praying your torso doesn’t freeze overnight as sleep captures your ire and douses the flames for then. 

But this is now. 

“Darling—“ he wheezes at your bewilderment. Lips pressing to your hair fondly, over and over. Likely getting that thing he feels he’d just learned the term for— aggression. Cuteness aggression.  

Unfortunately for him, it all rushes back. The fire is blazing, scalding. “Oh, I’m mad.” 

And he fears for his life behind the imprints of crowfeet on the corners of his teary eyes. Ever one to play with his own life, he still pushes. “Are you?” 

“You hog!” A quick attack. You whack his face with a pillow and he’s cackling. The thought of stopping and relishing in his bellyaching, carefree laughter crosses your mind for a split second, before you’re climbing his waist and squeezing the smooth skin of his hollow cheeks. “You left me to freeze!” 

“I didn’t know, sweetie.” He’s gorgeous when he speaks between chuckles. Speech bursting like hiccups of devotion. 

“What are you, a rock? I was pulling so much and— nothing!” 

He takes another blow. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“I tried.” You pause. You did. A little. But you couldn’t bring yourself to, not fully. Not when he sleeps terribly. Not when you’re the only rest he’s ever known. 

And he knows this, reads it in the way you falter. That look on your face that tells him you’re thinking about him, his wellbeing. Putting him first, still, through the haze of exhaustion; despite the blistering cold. Considering him and how he would feel to wake up in the sunlight you bathe in, sunlight he cannot stand if it were not for you. 

He doesn’t understand how you do this to him by just being. He fears how much you know him, how much he allows himself to be lured in and be exposed by you. When in the same breath, he’d lay his heart bare to you and hand you a dagger to do with it as you please.

He falls— deeply, effortlessly. Rolls in your affection twice over and more like he did in the blanket he stole in his sleep. Because just as easily as he did that with his eyes closed, he can so easily love you.

Fast, the pillow swings up by your arm, you strain to gain momentum to smack it down on his chest once more. Faster, his large hand catches your wrists in a vice, then he is pulling your face down to his. 

Laughter, both youthful and deep, bursts from his chest. His radiance ghosts over your cheek, weightless and warm. 

Just as you swoon in his joy, his heart aches at yours. It is the sun giving the moon light. The way you barely notice the wide smile on your face despite your desperate need to silence him in awkwardness. The way you try to reign in your strength with each strike despite knowing he can take the brunt of it. The way you look on top of him. The way the weight of you grounds him to this earth. The way you are so shamelessly you in this moment— he can’t help but reflect you, revere you. 

Meanwhile, you’re lovestruck and dumb. So beautiful, you think, about the hollowed dimples on his cheeks, about the curve of his relaxed smile— about the enemy. He is the enemy. 

And the enemy has soulful eyes, sorrowful as they are loving. The enemy tastes the sweetest when he is kissing your embarrassment to silence, when he is whispering, “I’m sorry.” 

You hum in defeat, melting in his affection, utterly human. Flawed and weak in the face of love. 

“I’m sorry.” He says again, slower. The words sighed against your lips. Mouth embracing yours tenderly to let you know he means it.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

part two: where shadows rest

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Could you write the scene where Ulf disrespects Jace? Reader, Jace's wife, arrives and, being a pacifist, asks Ulf to show respect in the halls of Dragonstone. She reminds him that, as a dragonseed, he should honor his ancestors' palace. However, Ulf, being arrogant and unaware, mistakes Reader for a maid rather than Crowned Princess. When Ulf moves to lay his hand on her, Jace intervenes, saying, "You dare lay a hand on your future Queen?"

Request: can i request a fic with jace where she’s a targ and ulf maybe just being himself disrespects her and jace is fed up

Small blurb because why dragging something just to make it longer?

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Ulf returned from the training yard after spending hours learning commands. High Valyrian did not flow easily on his commoner tongue, and he was looking for wine to drown his frustration into. 

His eyes looked around for a servant, and spotted you walking by. 

 ''Oy, fetch me more wine, girl,’’ Ulf commanded. 

Thinking his words were not addressed to you, you continued your path heading down the corridor to your chamber to report to Rhaenyra on your meeting with your father at Harrenhal. She had sent Ser Alfred a fortnight ago, but the man was slow on his horse so she sent you. The Greens were making moves and she needed to know what Daemon was up to quickly.

''I spoke to you!'' Ulf added, coming up to you and grabbing your arm without using force, simply meaning to stop you.

You turned, appalled that this man had grabbed you — a princess of the realm. 

‘’Get your hand off me!’’ 

Your hand reached toward the dagger on your hip, instinctively prepared to defend yourself. You assumed he was some sort of intruder  — mayhaps someone hired by the Greens —, but the way he continued asking about wine let you suspect that he was mistaking you for a servant. Did he not know who you were? Were your silver hair not telling enough of your title? 

Before you could scream or call for guards, Jacaerys was coming in through the corridor and walked in on the exchange. His whole body tensed and his dark eyes saw red when he saw Ulf with his betrothed.

‘’You dare lay a hand on your future Queen?’’ the prince said firmly, meeting the bastard's defiant glare as he quickened his pace to get to you. 

Realizing his mistake, Ulf immediately let you go, but Jacaerys was not finished, anger rising in his chest. He was so tired of the older man constantly showing disrespect in the ancestral home of House Targaryen. Calling him ‘boy’ and touching his hair saying they were ‘as dark as they say’, putting his feet on the painted table, his lack of table manners at supper. He may never have been taught the manners of court, but claiming a dragon didn’t give him permission to forget civility and manners. 

Jacaerys pushed Ulf away with a force that made the older bastard stumble on his feet. You did not know your betrothed had that strength in him. It made you feel something insde. 

‘’I’ll have an apology from you to the princess immediately," the prince demanded, his voice firm and authoritative. 

Ulf gulped and apologized, the boy before him small but somehow threatening. 

‘’Disrespect her or touch my betrothed again,’’ Jacaerys added, his eyes burning with anger, ‘’and I swear I'll have you hanged and your body fed to the dogs in the streets.’’

—

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[acosmicbee]

Hello! Big fan of your writing! If you're still taking suggestions, I have one in mind: Superhero parent (or a whole team) pay little attention to the kid of the group until they're put in danger by their enemy. Superhero parent/team now hyper fixated to ensure the child is safe and secure no matter what.

Rookie

(Thanks so much for the idea! More lore for my Rehabilitation universe! TWS: Y/N gets tortured & almost dies (NOT GRAPHICALLY AND IT'S MOSTLY IMPLIED))

When your teachers had described what it was like to be a hero, it had sounded majestic. You'd gone home every day asking your parents when you'd inherit some magical power to help save people. Of course, your family had no record of ever developing powers but they never dissuaded your dream.

It was luck that one day you woke up and your body was shining like the sun. You had screamed so loud in joy that your parents had to remind you that your next-door neighbors had a history of calling the police for any noise louder than a whisper.

But that didn’t matter to you. You were smiling the whole time they took you to get your power legally registered. The whole time the agents showed up at your house to take you to a special hero school. The whole time you finished your classes.

But the reality? The reality was nothing to smile about. You had been tacked onto an already existing hero team. A group of adults who saw themselves as too good to help the 17 year old shadowing them.

You quickly realized that not everyone became heroes for a good reason. The leader of the team, Hot Spot, did it for the fame. If he wasn't in front of a camera, he was cruel and a bully.

His second-in-command, Phantom, did it for the adrenaline rush. She would jump into combat before being given a cue to, ruining a lot of stealth plays and good plans.

Tornado, a girl who could control the wind, did it for the access to powerful people. She was always at some gala or another hanging off someone's arm while slipping a few bills out of their wallet.

Lastly, Tranq, who used his paralyzing powers as a way of taking out his anger issues on the villains he fought. They'd be on the ground, unable to move or fight back, and he'd just keep hitting.

Then, you guessed, there was you. The rookie, Helios, named after the Greek titan of the sun. You always seemed to be in someone's way, in the wrong place. Your bioluminescence made any kind of stealth at night nearly impossible. Your light was, at most, good for blinding, but not much else.

You were the burden, the unneeded part. When you cried after losing your first civilian, they sneered instead of comforting you. When you attended press events with them, you were put on the very edge and almost never allowed to speak.

But you didn't let their words stop you. You were in this to save people, to be a hero. It didn’t matter that you were more bruised after training than fighting a villain. It didn’t matter that you'd be pulling people out of the ruble long after they'd left to talk to the press. None of that mattered.

What mattered was the smiles you were beginning to get walking down the street. What mattered were the little kids who had stopped you to make flower crowns with them while you were on a coffee run. What mattered were the lives you had saved.

You didn't care that you were often on your own, left to clean up behind them. You were almost 18, you could take care of yourself. Of course, you still had to default to them if you wanted to do anything, but their lack of care made it easy to do practically anything you wanted.

It was another one of those days. You were patrolling, walking down the street humming as you looked around. There was a playground nearby with kids giggling and laughing as they played. A small café with really good-looking scones, a bookstore.

It was nice out today, quiet. The sun was warm, and the breeze was cool. You had stopped to give a pair of tourists some directions when the earpiece you wore crackled to life.

"Helios. We need you down at the docks. Warehouse 5." A voice said, slightly muffled. You could hear some fighting in the background as the com shut off. You quickly finished your directions before running off towards the docks. They were finally trusting you to help them in a fight and you wouldn't let them down!

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Where's the kid?" Hot Spot asked, flopping down onto the couch. They were backstage about to have a press conference, one you were supposed to be at for looks.

"How should I know? Don't they normally patrol around now?" Tranq asked, a makeup artist brushing something or other on his face.

"They're gonna be late, which looks bad on us. Tornado. Call them." Hot Spot ordered, smoothing out his suit.

"Why do I have to?" She groaned, despite fidgeting with her ear piece. "Kid, where are you? Huh, they're not answering."

"Maybe they're in a fight." Phantom said, fixing her hair in front of the mirror. "Then again, I doubt they'd jump in without telling anyone. They're stupid but not that stupid."

"You're that stupid." Hot Spot said, pulling out his phone. "Did we forget to tell them the old channel was compromised or something?"

"Whoopsies." Phantom said, pinning her hair in place. "We totally forgot."

"I'm sure they'll figure it out and be completely fine. Besides, we're on in 5." Hot Spot said, turning off his phone. It was just after when a distress signal began to come through, not that any of them noticed as the lights went up and the cameras turned on.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Three days. They hadn't noticed you were missing for three days. Sure they noticed the small things, the dishes not being done, no leftovers in the fridge, the silence through their shared compound. But they hadn't thought much of it.

At least, not until they realized it had been three whole days since they had last seen you. Three days of zero contact, no requested time off, nothing. That was when they'd entered your bedroom.

They'd never been in there before since you'd moved in. The room was in a typical state of lived in, your bed was made and you had some laundry still in the basket that needed folding. Your mirror was lined with pictures of friends from hero school and your parents. There were posters hanging on the walls which had been painted a soft yellow.

It looked like a kid's room. Because that's what you were, a kid. A kid they hadn't heard from or seen in three whole days. The pictures of you smiling and laughing were foreign to them, how come they had never seen you like that except for your very first day?

It was at that moment they jumped to action, trying to find out anything about your whereabouts. The villains they came across ended up more mangled than normal, as they searched the city with deadly precision.

It was late that night when they kicked open a door to an unassuming warehouse down by the docks, immediately setting off a bomb. In an instant the warehouse collapsed, and they were forced to shield themselves as they stared at the rubble.

It was Hot Spot who'd spotted the bloody piece of yellow fabric amid the destruction. Tornado used her wind to move the wreckage, straining to keep control over her powers with the anger and anxiety coursing through her.

You were there, at the very bottom. Your body looked smaller than they had ever seen you, bruised and battered. Dried blood was crusted in your hair and dripping down your face. In fact, there was a lot of blood everywhere. Blood on your suit, blood on your skin, blood all over.

Tornado also lifted you up, her winds carefully cradling your limp body until they got you to a waiting ambulance, one that had been directed after hearing the explosion. It was only once the medics were panicking over your body, fumbling for an oxygen mask and an IV drip did they realize the most haunting thing.

You weren't glowing. The steady glow that always surrounded you from your powers was gone, completely. You looked normal, small, like any other civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time. The last they saw of you was the paramedics rushing to start CPR as the doors to the ambulance slammed shut and the ambulance sped off.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"They made flower crowns with my niece and nephew. Just sat down in the park with them to help them weave some dandelions together." A voice echoed from the hospital waiting room's TV. All that had been reported on since they arrived was you. It seemed everyone had some sort of story about you, especially civilains.

They were in civilian get-up, watching as person after person recounted some encounter they'd had with you. You helped save someone's cat from a tree, you'd given people directions, you'd helped lost children find their parents. Even other heroes you'd known in school were sending their best wishes towards you.

"Helios... they're truly a light, not just because of their powers. They see the good in people, in everyone. They became a hero because it was the right thing to do, because they wanted to save people. They were my hero in school and still are to this day. Stay strong Helios and keep fighting." Another hero, Selkie, said. She had tears in her eyes by the time she finished talking, turning away as she began to cry. Another hero, probably one of her mentors, was quick to shield her from the cameras and hug her close.

They had never done anything like that for you. In fact they'd done the opposite many times. Hot Spot was overly cruel during your spars, letting his lava burn you and lecturing you when you got burned. Phantom had gotten you injured more than once by jumping into fights without warning you first, dragging you with her.

Tornado had threatened you to keep your mouth shut when it came to the thievery of her dinner partners, her eyes cold and her voice warning. Tranq had used his powers on you more than once just to make you shut up, leaving you somewhere people wouldn't find you until his powers wore off.

Watching all these people cry over you made them mad. You were just a stupid kid. A stupid kid who didn't give up even when they should've. Now you were in surgery, fighting for your life all because you couldn't just sit back.

They'd make sure you learned your lesson when you were finally awake again.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Your time in the hospital had passed in a blur of pain and medicated dazes. You were either begging for relief or too out of it to recognize the person at your bedside.

The surgeons who had worked on you had healing related powers and were able to save you from the worst of the damage once you were on the table. However, your heart had stopped temporarily in the ambulance.

The most lasting of your damage would be scarring once everything healed, but for now you were mostly wrapped in bandaged. You were finally okay enough to be discharged with some strong pain meds, still a little out of it as your wheelchair was moved through the sterile white halls.

Someone was talking to you, lecturing it sounded like, but your head was so floaty and distant you couldn't pay attention. All you could do was sit there, partially slumped over as you tried not to fall asleep again.

It was only once you finally gained lucidity later on would you realize just what you missed in your drugged fog. The way your own confinement had been admitted to you while you were too sleepy to listen.

"From now on, no more patrol. No patrolling, no sparring, nothing. You'll be lucky if you even leave the apartment. Speaking of which, we're going to be moving soon to a bigger place with a backyard and tighter security. From now on, you're just a kid so act like one. Helios the hero is dead, it's time for you to show us who the person is under the mask. So, ready to go home Y/N?"

[bodhi-devotee]

my altar to Helios, Apollon and His son Asklepios

there are so many little details i have been dying to dive into and you guys seem interested in a tour— i’m flattered, thank you!

🪽- first off, this triple angel figurine reminded me of the muses! each angel/muse is holding a lyre, a book, and a horn respectively. they’re so gorgeous, for sure one of my favorite pieces on my altar 💞💞

📦- the box in the middle, towards the back, contains my tarot cards. i was into tarot long before i was a buddhist or a pagan, so me and these cards go way back. it’s a trick box, so i’m able to lock it without any visible keyholes! pretty cool

🌻- the sunflower is for Helius. it represents the myth of clytie standing in one spot, turning her face up to adore Helius with such dedication she turned into a beautiful flower!

🐺- the wolf figure is for Apollon’s Lyceius epithet, and represents Him being both wolf-like and the wolf slayer. i named myself wolfe before i started worshipping Him, which i find cool

🐸- the singing frogs are also for Apollon! plain and simple, they make a pretty noise that i figured He would enjoy. singing is in the name!

🧘- the meditating buddha reminds me of many of Apollon’s delphic maxims, along with the natural balance the Theoi bring. the buddha will always be at the center of my practice and on all my altars

💰- all spare change i collect goes into my money bowl, which i will use only to buy offerings for Helius or Apollon! … i don’t get a lot of change, sorry guys

🎲- i haven’t used dice for divination yet, and i’m unsure if i will. but i have these dice here, so that they’re connected to my boys if i eventually end up using them! i figured it’s charging them, in a way?

🥀- i let petals of previous offerings dry out off of the altar, then scatter them back on once they’ve dried. i just get sentimental about throwing flowers away, and the look of it is gorgeous

☸️- my cloth has an eight part wheel on it, representing the eight fold path/the middle way. i do my best to practice hellenic polytheism in a way that encourages me to walk down the eight-fold path.

thank you for reading all the way through!!! i just love love love love my gods!!!! i know there’s nothing here specifically for Asklepios, but i do pray to Him here and leave Him offerings!

[burnthelios]

He is not used to the sweet luxury that Fontaine affords, his memory is shoddy at best but he knows as a soldier, he's more used to harsher foods like jerkey on the streets.

"....I suppose my schedule is cleared up, now that thos eabyss mages are dead."

"I accept your offer, my name is Helios."

"Seriously...", she heaved out a sigh, deciding that it would be no use on insisting further. If they were to get infected, it would be his own fault. She had offered help after all! Yet, she couldn't stop the mixed feelings of guilt and needing to help in any way.

"Then let me invite you to food at least, sir!", she pushed her hands onto her hips, "Fighting like this... it must make hungry, does it not? If not, then something to drink. The court of fontaine has a really nice café.".

[follyfaun]

Drawpile and other doodles! A couple collabs with @toucheholland23 <3<3<3

GITM Sol, Spot, Fool, Helios, and Misuta belong to @venomous-qwille

[toucheholland23]

Some drawpile doodles! Featuring @follyfaun drawing of Helios with my spot💕💖💖💖🫶

[mangakachan]

🌿”Torrid Summer”🌿 A Mucha-inspired series

As a life-long HelioChibi shipper, I had to devote one of the seasons to this ship, even if it’s only teasingly so. 😘 Though her true adult form is only shown briefly in the manga, it’s one that’s fueled a lot of my head canons over the years.

Out of the 4 pieces in this set, this one most heavily reference Mucha’s artwork, specifically the 1896 Summer. Based on the figure’s pose, I imagined a scenario in which Lady had ran off to enjoy a secret shady spot in Elysian during the summer, and Helios had to go find her. What happens after that? Well, given that this piece’s title is “Torrid Summer”, I will leave it to your imagination. 😉

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Sun

Acronycal - occurring at sunset.

Auroral - pertaining to sunrise.

Fulgid - shining, glittering, briefly flashing light.

Heliotropic - plants that turn towards the sun.

Lucific - light-producing.

Lucifugous - light-avoiding; nocturnal.

Soliform - like the sun; sun-shaped.

Solisequious - following the course of the sun.

Sun glitter - sparkling light on water.

The sun...

Rotates around its own axis every 25.38 Earth days.

Accounts for 99.9% of the mass of the solar system.

Can reach 15 million degrees Celsius at its core.

Could fit over a million Earths inside it.

NOTES

Your weight on the Sun would be 28 times that on Earth.

It takes approximately 8 minutes for light to travel from the Sun to the Earth.

Interaction between solar wind & the Earth’s magnetic field create the auroras.

Crepuscular rays are sunbeams or sun rays that appear to radiate from the sun.

A green flash sometimes occurs at the moment before sunset or after sunrise, caused by the bending and scattering of sunlight.

A solar eclipse occurs when the moon passes between the Sun and the Earth.

Eclipses occur in pairs, usually with 2 weeks between a lunar and solar eclipse.

The Gregorian Calendar is a solar calendar based on a solar year of 365 days.

A heliograph is a device that uses a mirror to flash reflected, telegraphic messages, usually in Morse code.

A sun dog or parhelion is a phenomenon caused by the refraction of sunlight that creates the illusion of bright spots to the left and right of the sun.

The polar day or midnight sun occurs during the summer in the Arctic and Antarctic Circles, when the sun is still up at midnight.

The polar night is the time when the sun doesn’t rise above the horizon at Earth’s polar regions. Although it lasts for 6 months, only 11 weeks are spent in total darkness, the rest in twilight.

The subsolar point is the point on Earth at which the Sun appears directly overhead, and objects seem to cast no shadow. The subsolar points travel between the Tropic of Capricorn and the Tropic of Cancer.

There are two solstices a year, one around 21 June, and one around 21 December. The solstices mark the longest or shortest day of the year (except at the equator). They are also the point in time when the sun’s declination reaches its highest or lowest limit and appears to stand still before changing direction, leading to the Latin etymology: “sol” meaning, “sun”, and “sistere” meaning, “to stand still”.

IN THE ARTS

Many cultures have a dawn deity in addition to a solar deity.

An aubade is a poem or song about lovers who must part at daybreak.

Dawn is considered a sacred time by many religions and often dedicated to prayer and meditation.

Clytie was a nymph in Greek mythology who, because of her unrequited love for the sun god, Helios, was turned into a sunflower, which was believed to follow the course of the sun.

Sir John Herschel coined the word, “photography” in 1839. He also invented the “actinometer” which measures the heat of direct sunlight.

The Sun is the 19th card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot. It is often thought to signify vitality, optimism, and playfulness.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Word List: Sun ⚜ Star ⚜ Glow

[kyoodledoodle]

GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS

WAH BA BA BAAAAAAAA

ITS KYOODLE HEADCANNONS TIMEEE!!! FANTASY HIGH EDITION!!!

general

Height order from tallest to shortest: Gorgug, Fabian, Adaine, Kristen, Fig, Riz

the van has seatbelts, but they go unused by everyone except Adaine, Gorgug, and Gilear

the bad kids all have matching I <3 vice principal Gilear hats. Fabian never wears it. Riz, Kristen, Adaine, and Gorgug ironically wear it. Fig unironically wears it all the time.

Fig

short queen (5’3)

Always has a certain intimidating aura of chaos

so does Riz

she has hypoglycemia, and since she and the bad kids are running around so much, she forgets to eat a lot and gets hypoglycemic; but it’s enough that everyone else just recognizes it and someone always has a pack of ritz crackers or a juice box or something for her

Has a little tiefling tail, and she has piercings and rings on it that are very jingly when she swishes it around as she walks

Bc she grew into her horns at a later age, I think up till then she looked completely elven, but when the horns came in the red skin also started forming a bit like vitiligo; its spotted around her eyes and across her nose, down her back and shoulders, and down her legs a bit

relating to the above, her right eye is fully red, but her left one has partial heterochromia w/ red and brown

kinda just, bites people sometimes

learned music from both Sandra Lynn and Gilear

often mimics Aydas little bird noises

built like me fr (squished)

cat stretches

Riz

Riz climbs on people all the time, so more often than not he can be spotted just on people’s shoulders

he’s far-sighted but I very begrudgingly wears his glasses bc they make his big yellow goblin eyes look absolutely massive

he’s bits his nails and lips and whatnot, so he started carrying around a ton of fidgets, but now everyone (especially Adaine and Gorgug) borrow them when they want (Fig doesn’t borrow she just takes)

He gets a little mustache like Pok’s that grows in eventually

incredibly tense. Just all the time.

also kinda just bites people sometimes

Kristen

Kristen always wears sunglasses; everyone thinks she does it to look cool but she just has sensitive eyes

after freshman year she cropped and cut off the sleeves of nearly all her tie dye shirts

hair has light streaks in it from her chosen-by-Helio stuff

gives the best hugs in the group

Fully convinced she’s the best cook in the group (she isn’t, it’s Gorgug and it shows)

Despite her magic healing skills, she has a strange amount of knowledge on the human body, but not necessarily about healing stuff. I think she picked up a ton from summer camps where she often found herself with younger kids showing them how to splint broken fingers and help poison ivy and how wounds heal when she had to bandage a cut knee

One of the bad kids: oww I hit my funny bone Kristen: oh you hit your ulnar nerve Bad kid: my what

i think she goes so far as to take like, college level anatomy quizzes just for fun, and if she’s stuck she has someone model for her so she can poke around them to jog her memory

After dying to the great unicorn, sometimes her heart just kinda- stops?? And she just freezes until someone clocks her in the chest. One time Gorgug hit her with the flat of his axe to restart it and sent her absolutely flying out the back of the van

Fabian

Sophomore year, after he got more in touch with his elven roots, he got his ears pierced and wears a lot of traditionally elven earrings and other jewelry

crochets and knits

on the above note, if any other of the bad kids clothes end up in his hands, they are more often than not returned back to them with any damage mended with expensive silk thread

has come up with silly nicknames (like the ball) for everyone in the group but just doesn’t ever use them

Is so unbelievably tense whenever he’s not in battle

he helps Kristen try and stretch her muscles more before battle n whatnot but she always deflects and is like “no dude you need to stretch” while he’s just standing there upright stiff as a board

in battle he’s fine tho

since he knows glass blowing, I think he works with other forms of glass to, and he makes gorgeous intricate stained glass pieces and ornaments with 3d scenes of things that happen on their adventures

on the above note, one of his biggest projects is a stained glass piece on his wall of him fighting alongside his father

Adaine

Sophomore year she realized she hadn’t gotten a haircut in a while, so Kristen volunteered to give her one, but Kristen instantly screwed up, so she settled for a shaggy, wolf cut sort of thing (and ended up keeping it bc the liked it)

when she gets visions she just straight up blacks out, and depending on how long they last, she kinda just passes out for a sec; everyone was super worried when she first started getting visions, but now if she just blacks out and collapses someone always catches her on instinct (except Riz bc he’s a little guy)

balance is shit

As she does more oracle stuff, some light streaks become more prominent in her hair

not a morning person; wake her up before 7 and she’ll walk into the wall she’s so groggy. Occasionally she’s tripped down the tower stairs when she wakes up early for school more than once Jawbone has had to just- drag her off the floor to get breakfast

after sophomore year, she realizes that she’s like, a solid 4-5 inches taller than Aelwyn and never lets her live it down

Gorgug

Fig convinced him to dye his white streaks blue for a period of time

headphones are so insanely beat up and everyone tries to get him new ones but he refuses; same with like, most of his clothes too

he needs braces for his tusks but he didn’t mention it to anyone bc he felt home his tusks already drew enough attention to him

Also sings for Fig And The Cig Figs

when he and Fig are practicing singing together everyone just crowds behind the door to listen bc they sound so good doing duets

in ep one he mentioned drawing so i think over the course of the years his drawings progressed from little sketches to full blueprint style stuff that took after his parents style of designing stuff

he and Fabian make trinkets together; he metal works and Fabian works with glass and they make really intricate ornaments and keepsake stuff for people

Other characters

Aelwyn didn’t quite fully recover from calethriel tower, and she has chronic fatigue and uses a cane sometimes (upon Adaines insistence)

When Adaine was born Aelwyn was super clingy and wanted to hold her and play with her at every given moment

before the school pressure started from their parents, Aelwyn was a rough playtime kid- like I think when she was like 5 and Adaine was like 3 she used to just pick her up and fully body slam her

I fully believe that in another universe Aelwyn could’ve been a martial fighter (def not saying this bc I love the dynamic of siblings where one uses magic and the other uses fists)

Ragh sooooo needs glasses but he just thinks not being able to read teachers writing on boards is completely normal

the bad kids got Ragh an actual pet lobster for his birthday and he immediately fell in love with it and named it Monster (Monster the Lobster)

Tracker sometimes instinctively does big ole puppy eyes at Kristen for attention but she gets embarrassed when she points it out. Jawbone also does this with Sandra Lynn but he fully knows and doesn’t care.

when Fig was a kid Gilear was definitely the overprotective parent while Sandra Lynn just let everything happen

Ayda’s hair can be styled, it just takes some special tools and/ or stylists that won’t be engulfed in flames