#and minos was the king of crete in GREEK MYTHOLOGY

[bedrock-to-buildheight]

Back on my high effort joke bullshit

[orkazh-arts]

Bonding with the half-brother 🐮🧶✨

Or, Ariadne and Asterion (the Minotaur) spend some quality time together because f*ck Theseus 💅😌✨

[aloe-techne]

it means star

been thinking about the parallels between astarion and asterion.

if his parents knew what happened would they have mourned like pasiphae? so close but so far from reach.

[hlblng]

The Pride of Crete - Bull Leaper

Excavations in at the Palace of Knosses in Crete suggest the existence of ritual bull leaping. Acrobats, both male and female, vault over bulls displaying their skills and honoring the gods. Depictions of the sport can be found on frescoes, vases and statues.

Also I read Mary Renault's The King must Die and The Bull from the Sea and I am obsessed.

[lenaleviosa]

”Girls are attracted to guys that look like their father”

Helios:

[gemsofgreece]

I really admire you and I wish I was as academic and eloquent as you. I want to ask, do you think Minos could've been a Cretan moon god at some point? Almost all (fragmented and scarce) evidence points towards it. His name (both Asterion and Minos), his myths, his family line. I kinda lean towards both the Minotaurus and Minos being originated from the same god, that were later separated into two separate entities. But who knows, there are a lot of Minos and Asterions in Greek mythology.

Thank you SO much for your wonderful words and at the same time I am about to disprove them with my mediocre answer.

What I know is that Asterion was Minos' step-father and then Minos named one of his many sons Asterion after him. I haven't read any analysis suggesting they could once be perceived to be the same individual, or even the Minotaur too.

While Minos was a demigod, I am not sure Ancient Greeks viewed him as a god, but more like a mighty king. We can't tell much about what Cretans (Minoans) viewed him like, because all sources come from the Greeks of the mainland who lived several centuries after any potential glorious Minoan king could have lived and inspired the future generations. So, by the myths relating to Minos, we can tell more about the beliefs of the Ancient Greeks and their perception of Crete's history and culture than what we could tell about the actual Minoans.

I assume the moon god speculation comes from the regularity of some of his actions (i.e feeding young people to the Minotaur exactly every year, taking his laws from Zeus exactly every nine years) or maybe the names? Asterion possibly derives from the Greek word for star (astro - asteri) and Minos sounds like the Greek word for month (min - minas). It's not likely though because they are written differently:

Μίνως (King Minos)

Μήνας (Minas - month)

This η - ι difference is etymologically significant in Greek and most likely indicates different lingual roots.

Minos is almost certainly the Greek version of the name of a legendary person that once lived in Minoan Crete. But we know so little about the Minoans' language and how close it was to Mycenaean Greek (if at all) that nearly nothing can be speculated.

That's my two cents, however I have not explored Minos' myths in depth. Many things definitely escape me and you might as well be onto something.

[noctilionoidea]

Ngl i wish that there were more greek mythology movies about the labyrinth that depicted Ariadne, minos and Crete as a whole as kheftian/Minoan other than that one made by a cult leader in the 90s

[rgraves1]

Source: cretanbeaches.com

Theseus in Crete, Part 1

In requital for the death of Androgeus, Minos gave orders that the Athenians should send seven youths and seven maidens every ninth year - namely at the close of every Great Year - to the Cretan Labyrinth, where the Minotaur waited to devour them. This Minotaur, whose name was Asterius or Asterion, was the bull-headed monster which Pasiphae had borne to the white bull. (Theseus in Crete, The Greek Myths by Robert Graves pp 336-339).

Theseus persuaded his father, Aegeus, to let him take the place, along with two companions, of three of the youths who were chosen by lot to make the doomed journey to Crete. Aegeus reluctantly agreed and gave his son a white sail to hoist on his vessel on his return to signify he had survived the ordeal, in place of the ship’s usual black sails. Once in Crete, and protected by Aphrodite, the handsome Theseus caught the eye of King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, who quickly fell in love with the hero. The princess promised Theseus to help him kill her half brother Asterius if he would marry her and take her with him when he left Crete. Theseus happily agreed. Ariadne had in her possession a magic bundle of thread which could be used to navigate the cunningly-wrought corridors of the Labyrinth. This she bequeathed to Theseus.

The myth probably reflects a real story of an Athenian revolt against a Minoan Cretan overlord. The evidence of archaeology would indicate a military takeover of Minoan Crete by Achaean Greeks in approximately 1400 BC. The Minotaur probably represents the importance of the bull as a religious and cultural motif to the Minoans; labyrinthine corridors have also been discovered at the Minoan palace at Knossus.

[tylermileslockett]

"The Chorus Enters,"

In this scene, from the play AGAMEMNON by Aeschylus, the chorus enters into the courtyard of Agememnon's palace. This being a stage play, I took this opportunity design this illustration with Mycenean architecture and set design in mind. Descending from the stairs on stage right, we have the entrance of the Chorus;(in this particular play- all old men). I chose to design a large bull head statue as a symbolic totem to Agamemnon's coming murder (like a bull sacrifice from the new year's BUPHONIA festival). I liked the idea of the chorus wandering around, telling the audience of the cursed house of Atreus, and recounting Agamemnon's sacrifice of his daughter Iphigenia on the way to Troy, all the while, this massive, (perhaps severed?) Bull head statue looms ominously in the background. I have the watchtower and distant mountain signal fire from the previous scene in the play, here in the background for continuity. This is the sort of theater set I would love to see in a modern reworking of this type of play: something bold, colorful, and stylized. It would be a dream come true to design sets for the theatre some day. :)

***NOTES on MINOAN VS MYCENEAN culture:

The MINOAN culture of the island of Crete is the oldest, flourishing from 2600-1400. B.C. On crete is the palace of Knossos, famed for King Minos and the minotaur labyrinth. *The name MINOAN comes from the name of king MINOS.

The MYCENEAN culture occurred later on the mainland of Greece, from around 1600 - 1100 B.C. and was the first culture to speak the Greek language. With the previous Minoan culture in decline, the Myceneans took over the islands, and adapted their writing and art/culture. Around 1350 B.C. the Mycenean culture collapsed, most likely due to foreign invaders. The world, culture, and characters of Homer's Iliad Mycenean. Agamemnon was king of Mycenea.

Please Support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in October. Please click my linktree

[countriesgame]

Please reblog for a bigger sample size!

If you have any fun fact about Crete, please tell us and I'll reblog it!

Be respectful in your comments. You can criticize a government without offending its people.

[whencyclopedia]

Pasiphaë

Pasiphaë ("all-shining") is the wife of King Minos of Crete and the mother of the fearsome Minotaur (half-bull, half-man creature) in Greek mythology. She is the daughter of the sun god Helios and Perse, an Oceanid. Like her sister Circe and her niece Medea, Pasiphaë also possessed the gift of sorcery.

Continue reading...

[golyadkin]

Your comic on Icarus is pretty cool, but I don’t fully understand if you are implying Icarus’s death is the fault of his father Daedalus or not. Daedalus can definitely be considered a bad guy if you want because he made the labyrinth for the Minotaur, but what else could he do for his son given his circumstances? The stories of Greek mythology are full of narratives that can yield a lot of meanings, but I’m having a hard time understanding what else could have been done for Icarus.

Hey thanks, im glad you think its cool. I didnt want to explain it much because i want it to be open for interpretation but i will say this.

When the minotaur says "im sorry your dad did this to you" its not just about the wings and the fall, its about the circumstances as well. Daedalus didnt just make wings out of wax, he also helped Theseus escape, he built the labyrinth they were trapped in and that gave the minotaur no choice but to be a monster for Theseus to kill, he made the cow disguise that begot the minotaur in the first place, he was even the reason they were stuck on Crete to begin with but ill let you look up why. Most of this is framed in the myths as Daedalus being prideful not trapped. Sure Minos and Pasiphae and Ariadne ordered or asked him to do these things but it was still him who did it and he took pride in doing them well. But the key concept here is that Daedalus didnt just build the wings, he also built the circumstances under which Icarus was able to die. His intentions here dont really matter and his love for his son made no difference. Icarus died because of his fathers creations and deeds, and history framed it as Icarus, a child, not doing what he was told (his story specifically is a warning against excess).

That being said, this is not a comic that damns Daedalus in my eyes, it is a comic that sympathizes with Icarus. For me, its about how a son shouldnt suffer punishments on behalf of his fathers deeds in the same way the minotaur didnt deserve to be trapped and killed because his father, the king, first wouldnt slaughter a bull for a god and then could not bring himself to kill the child that resulted from this slight. Minos never even considered raising the minotaur. He loved him but he could not stomach him. These are two sons who were shaped and punished for the misdeeds of their fathers and neither of them deserved it. I dont know if youll connect with the comic but i hope you can understand it a bit better and at the very least understand that Icarus and the minotaur were not isolated tragedies

[cherlockgomes]

Saltburn: an ode to all the weirdos in Greek Mythology

If Anyone But You is a modern remake of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, then Saltburn is a clever culmination of elements from Greek Mythology. The film borrows imagery and symbolism from the island of Crete to hint at the underlying themes of ambition and the class system that mark the film.

In order to understand the references, you’d have to know about the minotaur, Icarus and the labyrinth. 

On the island of Crete lived another one of Zeus’ offspring ( honestly, at that point, who wasn’t one of his offspring). Minos, the king of Crete, is an objectively terrible dude, but to cut a long story short, he was supposed to sacrifice his prized bull to the sea god Poseidon but decided to keep it for himself instead. Now the gods just so happened to be the definition of petty bitches, so in the most Greek Mythological way possible, Poseidon cursed Minos’ wife to fall in love with the bull. Their torrid affair (yes, she slept with the bull) resulted in a monstrosity that is the Minotaur- half man, half bull, complete nightmare fuel. 

Minos commissioned Daedalus to make a complicated maze to trap the monster. Sacrifices were sent into the labyrinth to be killed. Among them was Theseus, who, with the aid of Minos’ daughter ( who fell madly in love with him), managed to be the first to escape after slaying the Minotaur. Minos needed a scapegoat to pin the blame on (there’s something about a ball of yarn, and as I said, Minos is just a terrible guy overall), so he turned to Daedalus. He then proceeded to have him and his son locked up in a tower that overlooked the Icarian sea (I don’t know why he was so upset- I’d kill for a tower away from everyone with the bonus of a sea view in this economy). Daedalus, being the incredible inventor that he was, fashioned two pairs of wings out of wax so that he and his son could escape. Drunk on freedom and fueled by the recklessness of one’s youth, his son Icarus paid no heed to his father’s warnings and aimed for the sun. The heat melted the wax, sending him plummeting to his death, much to his father’s dismay.

Ok, so now that you have a gist I can begin to explain how a story about beastialty and wax could find its way into a movie that possibly single-handedly increased bathtub sales. 

The story carries themes of bloodshed, cannibalism, imprisonment and fear. One can view the family as the people sent to die at the hands of the Minotaur, or in their case- Oliver—the seemingly random costumes and decorations, like the horns Oliver wears, further aid the parallels. The maze (or Labyrinth) holds a statue of the Minotaur in its centre, under whose gaze Felix falls into an early grave. The cannibalism aspect also gives a more suitable explanation for the infamous bathtub and vampire scenes.

Felix’s character alludes to that of Icarus: naive, reckless and the companion of a tragic fate. In a way that’s almost jarringly in-your-face, the party scene further brings out this parallel in the form of his seemingly low-effort costume. The golden wings stand out against the rest of Felix’s understated outfit, thus tying together the symbolism in a neat package.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[shintin]

The Dark Side of The Sun

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot 

Summary:  It hurt Satoru how Suguru could be his best friend, his companion, and his most trusted person in his life; however, he could turn and become his bitterest enemy who knew how to hurt him by using you, because he was once his closest confidant.

Word count: 5.4 k

Warnings: Jujutsu Kaisen 0 Spoilers, Angst and Fluff, Mild NSFW content.

Notes: 

According to Greek mythology, Daedalus, a mythical inventor, created wings made of feathers and wax to escape from Crete, where he and his son, Icarus, were held captive by King Minos. However, Icarus ignored his father's warnings and flew too close to the sun. His wings melted, and he fell into the sea, where he met his end. The saying “don't fly too close to the sun” references Icarus' recklessness and defiance of limitations.

The story's title was suggested by my friend, who believes that we are seeing the dark side of the sun (my beloved Satoru Gojo) here. Yeah, I'm aware of that! It's impossible for the sun to have a dark side! But that shiny yellow ball in the sky doesn't have a best friend named Suguru Geto, does it? As a result, anything is possible.

If Geto had read my story, I would have been executed as the Queen of Monkeys.

Song Recommendation: All I Ask - Adele

You can read my stories on AO3 and Wattpad and talk to me on Discord.

Go back to the master list.

It was nothing but a dream.

But,

Your lungs didn't expand. Your breaths kept coming in short bursts. A tight feeling spread through your chest, and you could feel your throat closing. You tried to scream, but you couldn't. You thrashed your arms and tried desperately to breathe, but the effort was futile. Your voice was unheard by anyone. Nobody would ever know you were dying, that your chest was filled with blood and pain, and you were in such an unbearable state of agony.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't, you couldn't breathe—

In a flash, your eyes opened in terror, and you awoke. You were heaving in deep, harsh, gasping breaths, so overcome, so relieved to get oxygen into your lungs that you couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but try to inhale as much as possible. All your body was shaking, and your tremors were clammy, going from hot to cold too fast.

Gasping for breath was all you could do. 

Your body was drenched in a cold sweat, your brain swimming in waves of pain. Despite your best efforts, you could not shake the nightmare.

Curses dancing in the streets; sorcerers falling before your eyes; red tulips of blood blooming on the ground, wounds of love all over your body, the smell of death in the air, his dead body in a corner, and then blood again.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream; you kept telling yourself.

You shook your head to blot out your thoughts but immediately noticed your mistake. Your mind was still dense and foggy, bathed in confusion. You blinked slowly, timidly, but no matter how far you forced them to open, you couldn't seem to take in any light. In silence, you stared up at the blank ceiling. It took you too long to figure out you had woken up in the middle of the night.

A sharp gasp.

It was you, your voice, your breath, your heartbeat. Where was your head? Why did it get so heavy? You tried to clear the haze and remember, but parts of you were still numb, such as your teeth and toes and the gap between your ribs. Hmm?!

You felt strange and slow, like wandering around in the mud, as if your bones had been filled with lead.

God damn it! Neither your head nor your shoulders had ever felt heavier.

You wondered whether it was the last drop of the hangover still haunting your veins. You shouldn't have drunk that much last night, but how were you supposed to stomach your dear brother, Suguru declaring war against Jujutsu High?

Idiot!

He left everything behind just because he believed his impossible ideas would become possible if he were stronger.

Then, a series of events followed.

He was accused of killing your parents, but of course, you didn't believe it. There was no way he would hurt jujutsu sorcerers. Despite his failure, he was honorable, and you hoped he would find a way back.

Years and years passed, and for you, he became a drop of water in a desert—rare and precious. Until he showed up after ten fucking years only to throw a bunch of threats, let's curse each other on the night parade of hundred demons and cursed spirits on your face. Clearly, he had changed. Having seen his tone firsthand, you can attest to its coldness. He no longer cared about you or his once best friend because he had formed a new, better family. It seemed as though you were dead to him when you refused to leave Shinjuku with him.

Suguru thought you betrayed him by staying with Satoru, by choosing the death of your own kind over non-sorcerers or monkeys, as he referred to them. And once again, your eyes watched him walk away until no trace of him remained.

Deja vu.

Asshole! You don't need to reach the sun to enjoy its warmth! We can solve the—

Hang on a minute! Something didn't feel right. How come you were in the infirmary? Why was this gauze stretched tight across your palm?

As far as your memory helped, you didn't get injured while exorcising Suguru's souvenirs. Huh, fucking alcohol! You scoffed.

You thought it wouldn't hurt, so gingerly, you began to remove the bandages, but as soon as your finger touched it, you shuddered unintentionally. You felt so solid with blood and bones, and suddenly, you were freezing. Your skin was cold rubber against the metallic bed.

The cold, the metal, the pain, and the delirium all confused you.

Another sudden jolt to your senses, and you were more alert, more yourself. Panic erased your illusions for a single moment of clarity, and you were able to push yourself up on one of your elbows, head spinning, eyes wild as they scanned the darkness.

The wind was gnawing at the window, straining against the walls. A far-off light caught your eye. How come there were lights out there like Christmas? People! You shook your head. The rain was falling on the roof like popcorn against a pane of glass. The sky was pissed, as if the world was torn apart.

You were about to lie back down, worn out, when you saw something move.

Someone placed a blanket on you, and you inhaled sharply, confused, trying to make sense of the person. The face was warped like you saw it from underwater and swam toward it, trying, trying till your chin fell against your chest as you lost the battle.

"Drink this," the voice said. It was clear but kind of vibrant, resonating through the walls. Your ears kept buzzing. You squinted to see the face but felt dizzy suddenly, disoriented.

You couldn't keep your head straight, so without question, you grabbed the cup with your other hand and gulped the water quickly, surprised by your own thirst. When you started to feel normal, you looked at the person's face.

You saw Satoru.

He stood at a distance, eyes red-rimmed, bloodied clothes rumpled on his body. He stared at you with an unmasked look of sadness that startled you. It wasn't anything like him. Satoru would rarely stop grinning or smirking. You would think he had been crying if you didn't know him any better.

God damn you, Suguru!

He didn't blink, his hands in fists pressed into his thighs. His eyes had tragedy and beauty, something stoical which refused to be moved. He stood and stared at your pale face and your eyes. Your once bright eyes were weary, tortured, bottomless.

You didn't know what was going on in his brain, but you couldn't stomach the look on his face, the dreadful, awful pain he made no effort to conceal.

You felt like you should say something to make it right.

"Are you mad at Suguru?" you asked, forcing yourself to smile.

Satoru's eyes got widened, and he barely shook his head. He only stared at you; somehow, his reaction wasn't enough. You wavered and frowned as you looked at him.

He felt his lungs malfunction. His mind was ravaged. Hysteria had been clawing at his insides for hours now. He had no idea what you would tell him or how you would react upon seeing him. He was horrified by what was going to happen next.

"We'll find a way to deal with him."

Blood rushed through Satoru's veins, hot and fast. What? What was happening? Why did you say that? He took a step back. He seemed petrified, looking at you like he wasn't sure how to act.

"Hey," you said sweetly. "Suguru is like that, you know. Maybe I should talk to him."

He looked up, stunned, his blue eyes round. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Had you forgotten? You insisted on having a conversation with him. Yesterday. That's how you got here. It seemed he was serious when he said his family was no exception. How dare he! It hurt him how Suguru could be his best friend, his companion, and his most trusted person in his life, however, he could turn and become his bitterest enemy who knew how to hurt him by using you, his own sister, because he was once his closest confidant. The worstl betrayal.

"I was worried for nothing last night. I wish I'd listened to you," you said. You tried to smile again, convincing him that it wasn't the end of the fucking world if your brother had made empty promises and you'd quaffed a bottle or two. After all, special occasions require special celebrations. Huh!

But Satoru seemed incapable of speaking. All he could think about was what he had to say to you and how you might react. There was a small, desperate hope in his heart that was trying to be optimistic about the outcome.

Maybe you would understand.

He swallowed hard, stared at the floor, and you were suddenly compelled to ask a question. "Are you alright?"

When his eyes became abruptly glassy with emotion, when his shoulders trembled, even as he tried to hold himself still, you felt your own bones rattled.

Something terrible had already happened, or something terrible was on the verge of happening.

You tried to crawl out of bed and failed. It was as though two anvils were sitting on your knees, everything heavy, messy, confusing, and exhausting, and you couldn't but discern the general circumstances of your situation.

Vertigo flushed across your face, and pain gripped your mind, a vague realization that you had left something overlooked. Dusty emotions quivered within you. You couldn't even remember what you had forgotten. It was too hard to pay attention to something other than his burning eyes.

"Why are you standing there?"

"I…I—Y/N," he said, his voice husky with restraint as he watched you. His eyes dug into you as if to make sure you were still yourself. He only eased when you stepped into the sea of blue in his eyes, dived right in, and drowned. Yet, it felt like someone had punched a fist into his lungs and snatched up all his oxygen.

You slowly extended your hand to him to take it and tried not to betray your dizziness and nausea.

"It's gonna be okay," you heard yourself say, but the words sounded distant, disconnected from your lips. You felt numb, like your arms had been hollowed out.

Satoru looked unconvinced, yet he was breathing extra hard and trying not to show it. His hands kept clenching and unclenching.

There was glue all over his tongue, stuck to his teeth, his lips, and the roof of his mouth, and he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was pretty sure he just had a seizure or an aneurysm or heart failure or something equally as terrible, but he couldn't explain any of this to you because he couldn't move his jaw even a bit.

No one ever imagined he could be so sad, so human, and vulnerable, but it was there. It was right there. Raw, written across his face like it had been ripped out of his chest.

After all, the man blamed himself for everything. This was a burden he was born to carry—the guilt.

The pain was so plain on his face that it was killing you. You felt it. You felt it was killing you.

"What's wrong?" You asked and studied his eyes; your gaze locked onto him as if trying to read him for clues. But he broke the connection too soon. He looked as if he might speak, but he changed his mind. He took a deep breath, tightening his lips to keep the words from escaping.

You gently held his hand, brushing it with your thumb as his pleasant, masculine scent filled your head, and you breathed him in almost unwillingly. It was painful to be so close and far away from him. You wanted to bridge the gap between your bodies desperately. You wanted to press your lips on every part of him and savor the fragrance of his skin and the strength of his libs. You wanted to be enveloped in the warmth and assurance of his body. It was like you had died and found your way back to him.

"We're going to get through this together." You looked so deeply into his eyes that he was surprised he hadn't cracked under secrets and lies.

You didn't remember.

"I have to talk to you," he said quietly, still looking at you as if he was trying to find something, like searching for an answer to an un-asked question.

You felt your stomach flip. Your instincts told you to panic. "Is everything okay?"

It took him long to answer, "I don't know."

You stared at him, confused. His words were just a whisper, but something wobbled through your skull. Your mind spoke in a thousand different languages that you couldn't comprehend. Satoru was so close; he was so close, and you couldn't care less about any of it. You felt neither your pain, coldness, or emptiness of the room because you felt only him, everywhere, filling everything. You disregarded the warnings from your brain.

You struggled to your feet, and when Satoru met your eyes again, he took a sudden, sharp breath. You were so close he could feel your exhalation against his chest.

There was something off about you, and he could turn his Infinity on to avoid what was about to happen, but when it came to you, Infinity, what? His entire life revolved around you, days and nights, for years. You knew every inch of his insides and outsides, and if you thought he deserved it, then he believed this was the way to die.

An overwhelming urge to kiss you overtook him, and he thought about it for a moment. Just the idea sent a thrill into his spine, a dizzying feeling that inspired his mind to jump too far, too fast. He could picture it with terrifying clarity.

His gaze swept across your face, down your neck and arms, and stopped at your waist. The memory of his kisses along your torso, his hands exploring your back, your bare legs, the backs of your thighs, his fingers hooking around the elastic band of your underwear, your soft—

Oh.

It was like you could see into his thoughts. You grazed his bottom lip with your thumb, tracing the shape of his mouth. His lips parted even though he asked them not to. You stepped closer. He tried to move, but your hand slipped behind his neck and tightened. He shook his head desperately, but the sensation was so comfortable that you could no longer feel the strange creak in your bones, the ache in your heart.

"You said you wanted to talk to me, right?"

"Yes," he said, mumbling the word. "Yes." He felt dazed.

"Can it wait?"

He didn't know what came over him.

Desperation.

Desire.

Fear.

Love.

It hit him with a painful force, the reminder of what he had done. Then he looked at you, standing in front of him, a question in your eyes, and he couldn't think of anything but how much he wanted you in his life.

"Yes, of course," he said quickly. "Of course, it can wait."

You smiled and met him here, at this moment, in an instant, then kissed him without restraint, without hesitation, and clutched your arms around his neck.

His dark uniform was all blood, while your hospital gown all white, making the scene even more surreal.

His mind was blown, lost in an emotional surge, but he backed away. His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest. He barely remembered what he was trying to do. This wasn't right. Not right now. Not when he—

You stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and reeled him in, all warmth, heat, and sweetness. You pressed your lips to his. For a moment, he wanted to pull you against him, get drugged by the feel of you, but he didn't. He tried to break the kiss, but you held him tighter, even as you continued to kiss him, even as you touched the secrets of his body through the dirty fabric.

Soon, the whiteness and redness mingled on your gown, but you didn't care. It never occurred to you to ask whose blood was that. Why should you question it, when as a sorcerer, you were born into blood, midway through death and hell?

Seconds later,

A zippered sound and the jacket was on the floor.

He felt your hands on his arms, and he held his breath. It was wrong, but he never moved an inch. He didn't object as your hands dropped to his waist to caress the material attempting to cover his body. Your fingers grazed the skin of his lower back, right underneath the hem of his shirt, and he lost count of the times his heart skipped a beat.

Your lips were soft, still slightly parted, and now the air in the room was too tight, too full of cotton. He felt the blood pouring into his head, encroaching on every rational region of his mind.

He wanted someone to remind him what he had done, what he had to do. But he had lost his goddamned mind.

He could drown at this moment, and he would never regret it. He could catch fire from this kiss and happily turn to ashes. He could live here, die here, right here, against your hips, your lips, in the emotion in your eyes as you sank into him, your heartbeats indistinguishable from his.

This. Forever. This.

He realized at this point that this was probably the last time he would ever get to feel your love. This may never happen again. The memory of his betrayal would never allow you to forgive him.

He thought again; maybe you would understand. You had been through so much together. You had overcome so much. It may be possible to overcome this as well.

The lines of your bodies merged. It was wave after wave of ice and heat, melting and catching fire. His mouth was on your skin, his strong arms surrounding you with love and warmth.

His muscles were taut, his body rock solid against yours. He had one hand around the back of your neck, the other around the back of your thigh, wrapping you together, overwhelming you with pleasure.

There was something wild and beautiful in him today, something you couldn't explain in the way he touched you, the way his fingers lingered along your shoulder blades, down the curve of your back, like you might evaporate at any moment, like he had to have you, like this might be the last time you would ever touch, and he was dying to memorize the feel of your lips against his own.

You closed your eyes.

Let go.

You lost track of time.

You lost track of your mind.

You only knew you wanted this forever.

The pain twitched your senses, but you couldn't let go of him. You wanted him closer, impossibly closer, because you had never felt so secure, loved, or protected as here, in the intimate fusion of your bodies.

He kissed you again and again, deep and urgent. He could no longer afford to lose time. There was so much he wanted, and there weren't enough years. He had a hundred million kisses and wanted to give them all to you.

He kissed your top lip.

He kissed your bottom lip.

He kissed just under your chin, the tip of your nose, the length of your forehead, both temples, your cheeks, and all across your jawline.

His hands seized the length of your back, memorizing every curve of your figure. He kissed your neck, your throat, and the slope of your shoulders.

He was saying something to you, running his hands down your body. His words were soft and hopeless, silky against your ear, and you could hardly hear him over the sound of your heart beating against your chest. But you could see it, when the muscles in his arms strained against his skin as he fought his thoughts to stay here, with you.

He gasped loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached out, grabbing a fistful of your hair. You turned your face into his chest, trailing your nose up the line of his neck and breathing him in.

"I love you," you whispered and glanced at him from below.

"Y/N—" he said, and something broke inside him.

You loved these quiet, vulnerable moments. These brackets of time stapled between dreams and reality were your favorites.

Slow motion.

Satoru was so still. So unguarded. His face was smooth, his brow unfrowned, his lips wondering whether to part.

The First seconds after he opened his eyes were the sweetest. Some days you were lucky enough to look up before he did. You knew everything about him that mattered, and today, something was different. Today you watched him stir. Today when he opened his eyes, he looked suddenly disoriented. He blinked and looked around, backtracking too quickly as if he wanted to run and didn't remember how.

Today something was wrong.

And when you took his chin in your hand, he turned away. When you kissed his cheek, his neck, and the hard line of his jaw, he closed his eyes, and something inside him thawed; something broke loose in his bones. And when he opened his eyes again, he looked terrified.

You felt sick to your stomach.

"What is it?" you asked, your words scarcely making a sound. "What happened?"

He shook his head.

"Is it me?" Your heart was pulsating. "Did I do something wrong?"

His eyes went wide. "No, no, Y/N—" he said and gripped the back of his head, looking at the ceiling.

"Then why won't you look at me?"

He met your eyes, and you couldn't help but marvel at how much you loved his face, even now. He was so conventionally handsome, so remarkably beautiful. His eyes were an impossible shade of blue. Bright. Blinking. Then there was something in them that stung your heart.

And then—

"I have to tell you something," he said quietly, looking down. He lifted a hand to touch you, and his fingers trailed down the side of your torso. Delicate. Terrified.

He hesitated for too long. Exhaled. He dragged his hand across his mouth and his chin, down the back of his neck. Then, he stared at his hands, waiting for the part where someone would tell him this wasn't real. But he had woken up to discover all his nightmares weren't just bad dreams.

He was a horrible, self-serving, pathetic monster. He did what he could avoid. He knew better, and he did it anyway. You couldn't have known. You could never have known what it would be like to really suffer at Suguru's hands. You were innocent to the depth of it, of the cruel reality of it. Yet, he didn't hesitate to step on you when you stood against him, when you tried to protect the students. He wounded you easily, someone from his own bone and blood. No mercy was left in his heart, and he had to be stopped.

"I didn't want to do it," he said, breathless, his fingers pushing a stray strand of hair away from your face while leaning his forehead to yours and cupping your face. "But I had to."

Silence.

No other words.

You were scared.

Every instinct in your body was telling you to run.

But you couldn't. You were frozen.

"Satoru." You were about to call his name, but something about this stretch of silence confused you. Something about this moment and the feel of his name on your tongue were unlocking other parts of your brain. Something was pushing and pulling at your skin, trying to remind and tell you.

Suddenly, the truth slapped you in the face; it punched you in the gut and threw you right into the ocean. Your brain was screaming, raging against what you slightly remembered.

Your brother's dead body. Satoru standing beside him. Blood splashes on the wall.

It couldn't be true. You shook your head. Satoru would never harm him. He would never hurt you.

Your bones were full of ice. Your entire being wanted to vomit. This feeling, this overwhelming feeling of absolute self-loathing, remained in your throat as a slice of a knife too sharp, too thick, too deadly to keep you steady.

You pulled yourself out of his arms, and Satoru knew it. He didn't need six eyes to read the hatred written all over your face. 

"It wasn't a dream," you managed to whisper, your eyes unfocused, remembering. Your head was swamped by confusion. Broken images filled your mind: blood and death.

"Suguru," you choked on his name.

"Y/N, please—"

"Oh, God." You covered your mouth with one hand and stared, unblinking, at the wall. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you could ever say. A wave of pain inundated your body so rapidly that you didn't even realize you were shaking until you had to grab the footboard for support.

This was the source of the agony that had been drowning him. He had murdered his best friend, your only family.

You should have known when he appeared in the room, standing there, waiting for something to explode, when you couldn't pinpoint it. This was the data you were missing.

Maybe, part of you did, but you tried so hard to repress the memories of yesterday that you refused to believe it could be possible. Because a part of you didn't want to remember, a part of you was too scared to lose hope. A part of you didn't know if it would make any difference to know that it was him, after all—the one who ended his life.

You stared at him openly, every sensation amputated, your pain a distant scream disconnected from your body. You felt the strength rush out of you, leaving you weak in the knees.

Disgust was an insult to the level of aggression at the moment.

All you could think was that you were dying. You were six feet under and searching for a window when someone poured lighter fluid into your hair and lit a match on your face.

You felt your bones inflamed.

Then, you started shaking.

Satoru was already trying to grab you, he was already trying to stop you, he was begging you not to do what he thought you were going to do, and you told him to stay the fuck away from you. You told him to get lost, but he reached for you, pleading with his eyes, and you were tempted for a second to stay here, right next to him, but you slipped out.

Tears spilled fast down your face, you blinked and blinked, but the world was a mess. You wanted to laugh because all you could think was how horrible and beautiful it was, that eyes blurred the truth when you couldn't stand to see it.

You looked as though you had been scooped out from the inside like someone had spooned out all the organs you needed to function, and you were left with nothing, just emptiness, just complete and utter disbelief.

It happened swiftly, a sudden, brief paralysis of your limbs.

The floor was hard.

You knew this as a fact because it was suddenly pressed against your face. Satoru was trying to help you, but you screamed and slapped his hands away because you knew the truth. You must already know it because you could feel the revulsion bubbling up and unsettling your insides. You were horizontal and somehow still tripping over, and holes in your head were tearing open. You saw spots, and you weren't sure you were even alive.

You wanted to speak, to accuse Satoru, to blame him, to call him a murderer, but you could say nothing, could form nothing but sounds so pitiful you were almost ashamed of yourself.

Your body, your blood, and your brain had been frozen in place, seizing in some kind of sudden, uncontrollable paralysis that had spread through you so quickly you couldn't seem to breathe. You were wheezing in deep, strained inhalations, and the walls wouldn't stop swaying before you.

You had collapsed in the corner, curled into yourself, knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs, your head buried in your arms, and you were shaking.

He had never, ever seen you look like a child before. Never, never once, ever. Not in all the time he had known you. But now, you looked just like a little girl. Scared. Vulnerable. All alone.

Satoru fell to his knees before you and listened to the most excruciating, ear-splitting agony ripping through you.   

He knew you didn't want to see him right now. He knew you were going to scream if he reached out. But he had to try. He touched your arms so gently. He ran his hand down your back, your shoulders. And then he dared to wrap himself around you until you slowly broke apart, unfolding in front of him.

"Why? Why did you do it? You'd promised me to let him go." You hit his chest, your taps softer than petals for him.

"He hurt you," he whispered in desperation, more tears waving in the ocean of his eyes. But you couldn't listen. Your ears had finished functioning; your heart had just expired; your mind had gone to hell for the day, and your eyes, your eyes, you thought they were bleeding.

You lifted your head. "It hurts," you said. You didn't speak at all; you just expelled letters through your lips. Your eyes were astonishing, shining with barely restrained emotions, your face a reflection of so much grief

He tried to hold you closer, to keep you together by sheer physical force, but your head fell to his lap. He bent over you instinctively, shielding your body with his own. He pressed his cheek to your forehead and kissed your temple. And then you broke, shaking violently, shattering in his arms, a million gasping, choking pieces he was trying so hard to hold together. He would hold you forever, just like this, until all the pain, torture, and suffering were gone.

"Make it stop," you whispered. It was just words, stupid and simple, but an earthquake hit Satoru's heart, then cracked it right down the middle. He tilted his head and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hand.

"Please, Satoru." You glanced at him just long enough to see the hurt in his eyes.

Satoru swallowed hard, looking at you like he wanted to say something, struggling to find the words, but nothing. He lowered his head, and for one split second, you saw the shine of emotions that you had seen in his eyes when Yaga told him that Suguru had left the school and murdered 122 non-sorcerer, including your parents.

You were always welcomed here, in the shadow of his pain, in the rhythm you remembered. He really did kill all those people, and it was here, above your imaginary clouds, that you finally understood Suguru. He, too, like Icarus, had felt the sun's warmth and was tempted to fly close to it and burnt himself. Now his ashes had no home to house.

You wanted to caress Satoru's face and tell him that it wasn't his fault, but everything you wanted to say and everything you had wished to say fell to the floor and scrambled upright.

Your words were balloons that fell in love with a pushpin that got too close and ruined them forever.

You closed your eyes and felt the weight of loss and surrender settle deep within you. Your bones shifted, rearranging to make room for these new hurts.

You felt like you had stepped outside of yourself. Like your body was on the floor, you watched as Satoru's leaned and kissed your forehead one last time, then his two fingers touched your forehead and stopped your bones from fracturing.

You were so warm now, warm and tired, drowning again in strange dreams and distorted memories. You felt like you were swimming in quicksand, and the harder you pulled away, the more quickly you were devoured. All you could think was that you felt an odd relief in the dark and dusty corners of your mind.

The blackness buried you in its folds.

Art is not mine.

[rarepears]

Shen Jiu in Greek Mythology AU:

What if Shen Jiu heard about the minotaur and of the king Minos terrorizing Athens and demanding young Athenians to sacrefice to the creature and decided to go to Crete to take care of the monster after some Athenians women he befriended begged him to save their daughters and sons from being sacreficed to the minotaur by disguising himself as an Athenian girl and going to Crete with the next group of young Athenians send to be sacreficed?

What if when Shen Jiu faced the beast it turns out that 1) the minotaur doesn't eat humans like the rumors said, 2) while the minotaur, Asterion, indeed kill people who cross his path it's because of a torture device put on him by King Minos himself which is so painful that it's put Asterion in a never ending berserk state and a once the torture device is removed Asterion turns out to be someone with a chivalrous and intelligent personality(like his version in the Hades game) and the true monster in all this is King Minos? (Yeah, I'm a sucker for the "the minotaur is not the real Monster scenario! ^^)

BONUS: If this happen when Theseus go to Crete to free Athens from Minos's tyranny and the prince meet Shen Jiu what if this turn into a wierd buddy movies scenario ? X)

...Shen Jiu would never turn into "buddies" with anybody. He hates people. Sure he prefers women to men, but he's highly aware that everyone is selfish and has their own motives.

Why would anyone truly wish to befriend him if not to further their own goals? (Cough of course Shen Jiu's insecurity and inferiority complex came with him to Greece.)

There's also the fact that Shen Jiu IS a god now, ya know? Humans and gods? Not friends period. There's too much power disparity, god worship mentality, and also Shen Jiu hates men and hates people who can't save themselves even more - ala Luo Binghe style.

Plus Shen Jiu's kind of - well I wouldn't call it pragmatic - brutal version of kindness would be to put the minotaur to a quick merciful death. A torture device would entail a lot of healing, perhaps still permanent injuries to be managed as a lifelong chronic issue, and there's still the question of emotional and financial stability, trauma responses that become dangerous when factoring in the minotaur's strengths...

Death would truly save a lot of future problems.

[More in #Shen Jiu gets spirited away to Ancient Greece AU]

[planet-gay-comic]

The Minoan Civilization: An Early Example of Advanced Culture on Crete

The Minoan civilization, named after King Minos, a figure from Greek mythology, experienced its peak on the island of Crete from about 2000 to 1450 BCE. This culture is often regarded as one of the first advanced civilizations in Europe and exhibited remarkable liberalism and progressiveness, which were evident in many aspects of their society.

Cultural and Social Achievements The Minoan society was characterized by its open and progressive attitude, as seen in the splendor of its architectural works, such as the richly decorated palaces, and in its art, exemplified by detailed frescoes and intricate jewelry. The artistic representations, including images of women in airy garments and men ritually leaping over bulls, illustrate a culture that highly valued physicality and aesthetic expression.

Progressive Views on Love and Relationships A particularly striking feature of the Minoan civilization was its attitude towards homoerotic and homoromantic relationships. Compared to other ancient cultures, where such relationships were often taboo, artistic and ritualistic depictions suggest that in Minoan society, love and erotica in various forms were recognized and possibly celebrated. This openness is a testament to the liberal stance of the Minoans.

Economic Foundations and Trade Relations The economy of the Minoan civilization was heavily influenced by trade. The Minoans maintained extensive trade contacts with other cultures of the Mediterranean, which not only increased their wealth but also promoted cultural exchange. Unlike many contemporary cultures that expanded through military conquests, the Minoans were primarily known as traders rather than warriors. These trade relationships supported a society that focused more on cultural development and economic exchange than on warfare.

Influence on Subsequent Cultures The Minoan culture likely had a profound impact on later Greek culture. Elements of their art, architecture, and religious practices can be seen in Greek culture, indicating a strong cultural connection. These legacies show that the Minoans left a significant mark not only in their own time but also in the broader sweep of history.

In summary, the Minoan civilization was an impressive example of a liberal and progressive society that was ahead of its time in many areas. Its cultural achievements, particularly in art and economics, as well as its open social structures and attitudes, make it a fascinating subject of study in the history of human civilizations.

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