#apolon

[scalecallerpeak]

Some Hands Headcannons that I'm writing down at work I'll eventually split these up when I have more for each:

Arios listens to music while he works, Thanikos steals his work playlists because the music is actually very intense and good for workouts.

Thanikos sometimes calls Xandria mum just because she was giving him a full military speech and finished it with 'You got that son?" And he hit her back with "Yes mum." And it threw her off ever since.

Vothia was an Aspirant when made a Hand (key spoiler for Lesson of Humility but I think I've mentioned it before.)

Apolon actually has a weird sixth sense with guessing things that will happen. Not an actual skill but he will be like 'Its going to rain today's or 'Watch out'. And is weirdly often right a little unsettling.

Eridia looks a lot like Vesiphone and the two are often mixed up to her annoyance. The easiest way to tell them apart is Vesiphone has four wings and Eridia the usual two. Also Vesiphone is much bigger being a paragon.

Adrestes was going to be Devos' hand after the death of her previous hand. But the Archon had claimed him to become Polemarch just before Devos could appoint him. This did annoy her, but she doesn't regret choosing Lysonia as her hand even if it was second choice.

[digironpup]

[letemplededelphlapotheosedhomer]

[ganonjodessindemode]

[happylittleghost]

Moje posedlost s Palamédovou rodinou nemizí naopak se rozšířila i na Atanáše.

Jejich rodina je jedna velká děravá tragédie

[laboitediabolique]

Promotional flyer for "UFO Warrior Dai Apolon", TBS, April 1976

[alphamecha-mkii]

[pancake-crab]

I have transparent sticky notes :D

[i-merani]

King Tamar's Hunting by Apolon Kutateladze, oil on canvas (1971)

[suetravelblog]

Georgian Museum of Fine Arts Tbilisi Georgia

[memobank]

Zugdidi, western Georgia.

Apolon Kharebava

[scalecallerpeak]

When Thanikos gets his new body after the Maldraxus thing everyone starts sending him the ugly baby bird emoji because his feathers haven't grown back yet

[letemplededelphlapotheosedhomer]

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company. 

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact. 

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face. 

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows.  “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

[happylittleghost]

Tohle je jen takové hloupé AU co mě napadlo

podcast díra x the magnus archives

Palamédes začíná jako normální člověk ale postupně se mění v eye avatara.

Olbram byl společně s Cecílií lovec avatarů po její smrti se z něho stal spiral avatar.

Saskie po ztrátě Cecílie a Olbrama přísahala že zničí všechny avatary ale ve svém žalu propadla lovu. (Nemohu potvrdit ani vyvrátit že psohlavci které u Saskie vidíte jsou Dakota a Wolf)

Cecílie zemřela při lovu. Stranger avatar kterého se snažila ulovit na sebe poté vzal její podobu = Capcílie

Doktorka Belokory a celý zámeček jsou služebníci web.

Apolon je samozřejmě avatar of the lonely

A nakonec jako bonus Klem a Gerry

[blue-nerd-b24]

KODI NATION,I MADE THIS

Please,don’t tell me Im only one who has headcanon that Kent likes to rest His head on Jodi’s Lap,

I just know her pear shaped Body has softest Lap,Kent’s favorite soft pillow

And of course Jodi likes Kent’s chest,Army Carrier have perks like discipline routine that lets him have Apolon/Greek God body.You can’t tell me that Jodi doesn’t like Kent’s muscular body: