#troy music hall

[3garcons]

Preservation Hall Jazz Band in Troy NY 2023 Nov

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by my beloved no.1 chappell roan stan @cordiallyfuturedwight thanks my darling <33 i can only apologise for the lack of ms roan here... i swear good luck babe has been on repeat i don't know what happened

tagging the usual suspects, apologies if i've already missed yours: @aprylynn @jiminsproof @thvinyl @cosmicdreamgrl @visionsofgideontheninth @hoseeok @kimchokejin @jihopesjoint @monismochi <333 and you dear reader

oh and see here for more of my self-proclaimed songs of the summer if you're interested in that kind of thing

[in-a-continuous-daydream]

Does Zac Efron know he changed lives with the 2008 High School Musical: Senior Year “Scream” scene or what??

[fionnemrys]

My view of the stage for the Indigo Girls tonight. Second row, center! We are packed in like sardines. Good thing IG fans are a friendly bunch. 😉

[astral-cowboy]

Abed is a tally hall listener. Troy only listens to them when abed does. They both like two wuv.

[thatonegreekgodwrites]

“ECHOES OF ELYSIUM”

Odysseus x Fem!Reader

warnings. sexual assault, slavery, a greek retelling, eventual smut, war/gore, this won’t have a happy ending

pairing. odysseus x fem! reader (inspired by epic:the musical)

in the heart of troy, amidst the towering walls and architecture, the city bustled with the vibrant energy of its people. the market squares were filled with the sounds of merchants haggling and children playing, unaware of the shadow of war creeping ever closer. within the palace, the air was different—heavier with the scent of incense and the hum of anticipation.

you, a young slave girl with kind eyes and calloused hands, moved silently through the halls. your life was one of routine and quiet obedience, your existence almost invisible among the grandeur of the palace. today, however, was a day of celebration, and even you could not escape the excitement that seemed to permeate the very stones of troy.

the reason for the festivities was the birth of the heir, the firstborn son of prince hector and his beloved wife, andromache. the birth of the child promised new hope and joy, a symbol of strength and continuity. their legacy now secured if the gods favored them so. the celebration was to be grand, with nobles and warriors alike gathering to honor the new prince and his family.

you had been tasked with pouring wine for the guests. it was a simple task, yet it required precision and grace—qualities that had been drilled into you from a young age. you carried a large jug, the cool red liquid sloshing gently inside, as you made your way to the grand hall.

as you entered the hall, you were struck by the sight before you. the room was adorned with rich tapestries and garlands of flowers. the tables were laden with food and drink, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. at the center of it all was prince hector, his tall frame and noble bearing making him easily recognizable. beside him stood andromache, cradling their newborn son, both of them beaming with pride and joy.

you approached the head table with a steady gait, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself. you dipped your head respectfully, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, but you remained focused, constantly reminding yourself to not make a mistake in your mind as you were known to be a bit clumsy.

"wine, my lord?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

hector turned to you, his expression warm and kind. "yes, thank you," he said, gesturing to the goblet before him.

you carefully poured the wine, the liquid catching the light and sparkling as it filled the goblet. moving down the table, you repeated the process for andromache and the other guests. as you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at the infant in andromache's arms. the baby boy, unaware of the significance of his birth, slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

the celebration continued, the sounds of music and laughter filling the hall. you retreated to the edges of the room, task completed only for the moment. you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of longing and contentment in your heart. despite your status, you found joy in the happiness of others, even if it was a distant joy.

the night wore on and you remained vigilant, ready to attend to any needs that might arise. you and everyone else were unaware of the storm brewing beyond the walls of troy, the consequences of paris' actions casting a long shadow over the kingdom that would consume them in darkness in due time. for now, in this moment of peace, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

but you knew, as did everyone in troy, that peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the whims of fate. and as you stood in the grand hall, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future intertwined, creating a tapestry of uncertainty that would shape the destiny of troy and all who lived within its walls.

lingering on the edges of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign that you might be needed. the celebration for the birth of hector's son was still going even as night fell, the hall being brought alive with music and laughter.

suddenly, the room seemed to tilt as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you roughly into the light.

you turned to see hector's younger brother, prince deiphobus, his face flushed with wine and his eyes glazed with a drunken haze. he was known for his roguish charm, but tonight, it was more than evident that he had indulged too much.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his hand wandering from your shoulder down your arm, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. "a pretty little dove in the midst of all these hawks."

you stiffened, your pulse quickening as you bit your tongue, swallowing the surge of disgust that rose within you. you were a servant—a slave, and he was a prince. to resist would mean severe punishment, which meant you had no choice but to endure.

"my lord, can i get you some water?" you offered, hoping to distract him, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

deiphobus laughed, a sound that was more menacing than mirthful. "water? no, i have something else in mind." his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer as his breath was hot and reeking of alcohol against your ear. "tell me, does a slave like you know how to have fun?"

you forced a smile, the muscles in your face straining with the effort. "i am here to serve, my lord, in whatever way pleases you."

he grinned, his hand sliding lower. "good girl," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "i knew you would understand."

every fiber of your being screamed to pull away, but you remained still, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, some watching with curiosity, others with indifference—after all, your plight meant nothing to them.

"why don't we find a quieter place, hmm?" deiphobus suggested, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"deiphobus," helenus called out from next to them, raising his goblet to his lips as he quirked a brow, voice calm but commanding. "leave her be."

deiphobus turned, a drunken sneer on his face. "ah, helenus. always the serious one. why don't you go back to your scrolls and leave the fun to me?"

helenus' eyes narrowed. "surely you can go one night without tainting another servant. find entertainment elsewhere and by the gods, remember that you're a prince, have some decorum."

deiphobus scoffed, but the firmness in helenus's voice gave him pause. he let go of you with a rough shove, making you stumble back. "fine, fine," he muttered, turning away with a dismissive wave. "always spoiling the fun."

helenus watched him go, his expression unchanging until deiphobus disappeared into the crowd. then, he turned to you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "next time you ought to remember i won't be able to stop him, i suggest you find a way to keep your hands busy."

you nodded with a tug inside your chest. "yes, my lord, thank you."

with that, he looked away, drowning the conversation of the people around him as his own servants served him grapes. you took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you took helenus' advice, moving around the large room to keep yourself occupied and out of the sight of deiphobus.

you felt the fragility of peace hanging in the air, a feeling of knowing that the celebration of new life was shadowed by the impending storm. yet, within the confines of your role, you found a flicker of strength, a resolve to endure whatever fate the gods had in store for you.

author’s note. comment your thoughts, if this does well I’ll continue it over on here and might put more effort into the account. you can find this story also on my wattpad account. thanks for reading!

[goldengleams]

can i have this dance? | jamie drysdale x reader

In which you and Jamie become Troy and Gabriella.

Missing Jamie Drysdale and all of his cuteness, so enjoy this HSM3 inspired blurb!!

————————————————————————

You couldn’t help but feel overly excited at the dark clouds that were starting to cover the sky. After living in California for a year, you had grown accustomed to the lack of rain, but it still made you aggravated. You grew up in a place that had rain on a regular basis and had always loved it.

“Jamie, it’s looking like rain!” You shouted down the hall to your boyfriend. You were curled up near the edge of the couch so that you could look out the window.

Jamie had just woken up from a nap, the loud thunder drawing him from his slumber. He opened his bedroom door and trudged over to the couch, dramatically falling on top of you.

“Yeah, and your rain just woke me up,” he grumbled. You started to poke at his shoulder, which was now uncomfortably in your side.

“Well you can’t miss the rain! This is the most exciting moment of my week, J. I can’t understand how nothing here ever needs rain, it’s so weird,” you trailed off, focus on the window.

Jamie looked up at your hopeful face and smiled at you. He found it so adorable that you were so passionate about the rain. One time up on the roof of his and Trevor’s apartment, he had listened to you describe the way you saw the rain. You saw it as a cleanse, everything becoming drenched in water. It was calming to you, the thunder and lightning only making the spectacle more interesting and attention grabbing.

A soft gasp left your mouth as rain started to fall. You clambered up from the couch, running to the large window to watch it like a little kid.

“Jamie, look!”

Jamie eagerly followed you. You were practically bouncing by the time the rain started to pick up and the lawn outside Jamie’s apartment got wet.

“Now this, this Jamie Drysdale, feels normal,” you laughed. “This feels like home.”

Jamie, a fair bit taller than you, rested his head atop yours and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s beautiful,” Jamie offered. He couldn’t quite see what you saw when it rained, but he loved trying to understand you, so he was willing to stare out the window a little longer.

You wriggled free from his grasp and spun around the kitchen. “We have to rain dance, Jamie!”

Your eyes were bright as you stared at him. You were sure you looked a little wild-your hair was half tucked in a bun and a large Anaheim Ducks t-shirt covered your body. What you didn’t know was that Jamie thought you looked just as beautiful as ever.

“A rain dance?” He questioned.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes, Jamie. And it means that we have to go outside and be absolutely obnoxious and have the time of our fucking lives, do you understand?”

You didn’t give Jamie any time to really understand before you were tugging on his arm. You both slipped on sandals and before Jamie knew it, you were leading him out his front door, down the steps.

“You’ve seen High School Musical 3, right?” You questioned, slowing your movement to look at Jamie.

He nodded, looking confused as to where you were going with this.

“Well, there’s a scene where Gabriella and Troy sing this song and they dance in the rain and have the best time ever, and I’ve always wanted to do it with someone special,” you said, the giddiness bubbling inside of you.

You ran ahead of him, arms wide to feel the cool water hit your body. Jamie could practically see the happiness radiating from your frame.

“Dance with me, Jamie!”

While this wasn’t Jamie’s preferred activity, he ran out to meet you in the middle of the lawn, abandoning the covering of the doorway. You were in your element.

You found Jamie’s shoulders as you pulled him close to do a pretend slow dance in the rain. You both erupted in giggles at the absurdity of your actions, not caring who could see you outside like fools.

Jamie spun you around and dipped you effortlessly. You danced for a few minutes, practicing your best couple moves with each other.

“Thanks for being crazy with me and pretending we’re the main characters in a teen movie,” you laughed. You smiled as you and Jamie were now quite close, only a few inches separating you from his lips.

“I’d dance in the rain with you any day, Y/N,” Jamie said, kissing you in the middle of the storm.

————————————————————————

This was a random little idea that came to me when it rained the other day!! Hope you enjoyed it!☔️

[nhularin]

FAVORITE CRIME

PAIRING theater kid! sunoo x theater kid! reader GENRE highschool AU, theater partner to friends to strangers, angst no comfort WARNINGS insecurities, this is probably the worst fic ive ever written im sorry, barely proofread WC 1.3k series masterlist

January 25th, 2008

D-29

"set, action!"

" i am afraid" you whispered loudly enough, face mirroring that of your character.

"it's i am NOT afraid, not im afraid. IN POSITION!" the obnoxious voice of Kim Gyuvin echoed through the empty theater hall

as the bright stage lights illuminated the auditorium, the air buzzed with anticipation and exhaustion. It was the third rehearsal of your schools rendition of "highschool musical," and the leads, sunoo as troy (which was a strange combination if you had to admit) and you, although a complete newbie in acting, as gabriella. it was not long till your work of art was about to take the stage.

you looked at your partner, eyes filled with guilt as you sighed "im sorry, not my day" he only laughed and gave you a sympathetic smile "its okay, gyuvin is just being an ass today because mr Kim didnt like his freestyle presentation of macbeth" sunoo shook his head " he rapped, yn, rapped the damn play out" you both giggled, finding fondness in the silly actions of your director (you honestly dont know why he was chosen"

"Hey! silence! and get into position!" the boy of your talk yelled, looking at them with his best stern face but ended up looking like a butthurt child. gyuvin pointed at sunghoon and heeseung, who both wore a bored expression on their face "rat 01 and rat 02, lighting!"

D-13

throughout the entire rehearsal process, sunno had been nothing short of a perfect scene partner. he was kind, supportive, funny and always there to lend a helping hand to your clumsy self. you couldn't help but feel , call yourself delusional, a deep connection growing between you two that went beyond the boundaries of the childish, superficial relationship of troy and gabriella.

He would leave post-it notes on your locker, filled with kind words and reminders of your talent. yoy would find them every morning, a small burst of positivity to start your day.

but it didn't stop there. the golden boy would often leave juice bottles on your desk, knowing how important it was for yoy to take care of your voice. sunoo would write silly little notes in class as well, reminding you to stay hydrated and take breaks when needed.

D-10

their rehearsals were filled with laughter and shared dreams. sunoos enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself falling foolishly deeper into the role of gabriella with each passing day. you admired his dedication and his ability to bring out the best in the team's performance.

as the days turned into weeks, you began to feel a connection with sunoo that went beyond your characters and your delusions. sparks flew, an unspoken understanding that seemed to blossom between you. your interactions became more personal, your conversations filled with warmth and vulnerability.

one evening, after a particularly exhausting rehearsal, he had walked you home despite his route from school being in the opposite direction, your footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. you talked and talked, about the magic of theater and the scary future after highschool. it was in that moment, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, that you felt your heart skip a beat.

D-5

But as the premiere of the play approached, something changed. Sunoo's smiles became fewer and further between, his once cheerful demeanor replaced with a distant look in his eyes. Confused and hurt, you tried to reach out, to understand what was happening, but he began to withdraw

He would avoid eye contact, brush off your attempts at conversation, and disappear without explanation. your heart ached with every rejection, the pain of his sudden indifference growing with each passing day.

D-1

On the night of the performance, your heart sank as you noticed sunoos cold stare from across the stage. the chemistry you had worked so hard to build was replaced by an icy tension backstage. every line, every touch felt forced, lacking the authenticity you had once shared.

After the final bow, you searched for answers, desperate to understand what had caused this sudden change. But Sunoo continued to ignore you in the hallways, as if you were a mere stranger he had never met. The reader's heart shattered into a million pieces, unable to comprehend the pain of being cast aside so abruptly.

- D-13

days turned into weeks, and your anguish only deepened. sunoos silence was deafening, and the unanswered questions tormented you every waking moment. was it all just an act? had your connection been nothing more than an illusion?

one evening, as you sat alone in your house, your parents nowhere to be seen, contemplating the shattered remnants of what once was, you spotted a note tucked beneath your door. It was a familiar sight - a post it note, just like the ones the boy who unknowingly broke your heart used to send you. with trembling hands, you unfolded the note and read the words that lay before you: "I'm sorry."

confusion mingled with hope as your heart skipped a beat. without hesitation, you rushed outside to your front yard, determined to uncover the truth of his silence. as you rounded the corner to your treehouse, there he stood, anxiously awaiting your arrival. the look in his eyes was something you have never seen before, the cheerful boy from school now looked disheveled and broken and you could see the weight of regret pressing upon his shoulders.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," sunoo exclaimed, his voice filled with remorse and something you couldn't decipher. "I thought it would be easier this way, but I was wrong. at first, i only befriended you in sake of the play, but you kept plaguing my mind at every waking hour. so i tried to distance myself to focus on our performance."

tears welled up in your eyes as the truth washed over you. sunoos actions were not born out of cruelty, but rather out of fear and self preservation. in his attempt to protect his own heart, he unknowingly shattered yours.

with a trembling voice, you spoke up "i get that" your voice cracked "i really do, but you could've talked to me before completely ignoring my presence. you weren't the only main character in this play. and do you know what's the most important thing in theater? communication. please dont push me away, youre important to me"

in that moment, the barriers between you began to crumble. walls of misunderstanding and pain came crashing down, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath. And just like the tragic love story they had once portrayed on stage, Sunoo and you found yourselves in front of each other, heart more broken than the other's

"im sorry, yn"

and he left, with your heart in his hand

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1 @iea-tsand

[april-is]

April 5, 2024: May 5, 2020, John Okrent

May 5, 2020 John Okrent

It is beautiful to be glad to see a person every time you see them, as I was to see Juan, the maintenance man, with whom it was always the same brotherly greeting—each of us thumping a fist over his heart and grinning, as though we shared a joke, or bread. I barely knew him. Evenings in clinic, me finishing my work, him beginning his— fluorescence softening in the early dark. He wasn't even fifty, had four grandchildren, fixed what was broken, cleaned for us, caught the virus, and died on his couch last weekend. And what right have I to write this poem, who will not see him in his uniform of ashes, only remember him, in his Seahawks cap, and far from sick, locking up after me, turning up his music.

--

More like this:

Say Thank You Say I’m Sorry, Jericho Brown

When people say, “we have made it through worse before”, Clint Smith

Today in:

2023: Homeric Hymn, A.E. Stallings 2022: The Mower, Philip Larkin 2021: When people say, “we have made it through worse before”, Clint Smith 2020: Untitled, James Baldwin 2019: To Yahweh, Tina Kelley 2018: from how many of us have them?, Danez Smith 2017: Sad Dictionary, Richard Siken 2016: Lucia, Ravi Shankar 2015: Overjoyed, Ada Limón 2014: Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing, Margaret Atwood 2013: Anniversary, Cecilia Woloch 2012: Poem for Jack Spicer, Matthew Zapruder 2011: Now comes the long blue cold, Mary Oliver 2010: Jackie Robinson, Lucille Clifton 2009: In the Nursing Home, Jane Kenyon 2008: To the Couple Lingering on the Doorstep, Deborah Landau 2007: White Apples, Donald Hall 2006: Late Confession, Gary Soto 2005: Steps, Frank O’Hara

[olympic-paris]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more …

September 18

53 AD – Trajan, Roman emperor, born (d.117 AD); The first non-Italian Roman emperor. His accomplishments were both martial and civic, including construction of the aqueducts, the restoration of the Appian Way and the building of the massive Forum of Trajan. According to Spartianus, he was a proud possessor of a paedogogium, a harem of boys he took along with him on campaign, apparently for his and his officers' pleasure.

Dio Cassius, sometimes known as Cassius Dio, reports that Trajan drank heavily and loved boys. "I know, of course, that he was devoted to boys and to wine, but if he had ever committed or endured any base or wicked deed as the result of this, he would have incurred censure; as it was, however, he drank all the wine he wanted, yet remained sober, and in his relation with boys he harmed no one."

This sensibility was one that influenced even his governing, leading him to favor the king of Edessa out of appreciation for his handsome son: "On this occasion, however, Abgarus, induced partly by the persuasions of his son Arbandes, who was handsome and in the pride of youth and therefore in favor with Trajan, and partly by his fear of the latter's presence, he met him on the road, made his apologies and obtained pardon, for he had a powerful intercessor in the boy."

His sexuality was never in question, only the stories used to illustrate his preferences. The monumental erection, the Column of Trajan, was Rome's highly appropriate tribute to this emperor, considered to have been one of the "good emperors."

1883 – Gerald Tyrwhitt-Wilson, 14th Baron Berners born (d.1950), also known as Gerald Tyrwhitt, a British composer of classical music, novelist, painter, & aesthete. Berners was notorious for his "eccentricity," e.g. dyeing pigeons at his house in Faringdon in vibrant colors and at one point having a giraffe as a pet and tea companion.

Berners' musical works included Trois morceaux, Fantasie espagnole (1919), Fugue in C minor (1924), and several ballets, including The Triumph of Neptune (1926) (based on a story by Sacheverell Sitwell) and Luna Park (1930). In later years he composed several songs and film scores, notably for the 1946 film of Nicholas Nickleby.

His friends included the composers Constant Lambert and William Walton and he worked with Frederick Ashton; Walton dedicated Belshazzar's Feast to Berners.

He bequeathed his estate to his companion Robert ('Boy') Heber Percy, who lived at Faringdon until his own death in 1987.

Berners obtained some notoriety for his roman-à-clef The Girls of Radcliff Hall, (punning on the name of the famous lesbian writer), in which he depicts himself and his circle of friends, such as Cecil Beaton and Oliver Messel, as members of a girls school. This frivolous satire, which was published and distributed privately, had a modish success in the 1930s. The original edition is rare; rumor has it that Beaton was responsible for gathering most of the already scarce copies of the book and destroying them. However, the book was reprinted in 2000.

1905 – Greta Garbo (d.1990) was regarded as one of the greatest and most inscrutable movie stars ever produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and the Hollywood studio system. Garbo received a 1955 Honorary Oscar "for her unforgettable screen performances" and was ranked as the fifth greatest female star of all time by the American Film Institute. Garbo's biographer Barry Paris notes that she was "technically bisexual, predominantly lesbian, and increasingly asexual as the years went by."

Garbo began life in poverty as Greta Lovisa Gustafsson, the daughter of a janitor in Stockholm, Sweden. When her father died in 1919 of tuberculosis, Greta had to quit school at the age of fourteen and go to work. Her good looks helped her get jobs in a couple of advertising films before she was discovered in 1922 by unabashedly homosexual Swedish filmmaker Mauritz Stiller. He cast her as the female lead in Gosta Berling's Saga (1924) and got her a role in a German film, The Joyless Street (1925). Stiller took control of the actress's career, changing her last name to Garbo. When he went to the United States to work for Louis Mayer at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Stiller took his protégée along. Mauritz Stiller did not succeed in Hollywood, but Greta Garbo was destined to become a star. She made fourteen silent films, among them The Torment (1926) and Flesh and the Devil (1927), where she tended to play the beautiful femme fatale, luring men into passion. Garbo made the rocky transition from silent films to talkies flawlessly. Her husky, accented voice fitted intriguingly with her ethereal beauty, enabling her to create more complex characters than she ever had in silents.

In Anna Christie (1930), Anna Karenina (1935), Camille (1936), and others, she played a tragic heroine, passionate, but doomed. In the delightful 1939 comedy Ninotchka, she mocks this gloomy sensuality with charming self-deprecation, causing MGM to tout the film with the single headline, "Garbo Laughs!" In 1941, prompted perhaps by the failure of Two-Faced Woman, her comedy follow-up to Ninotchka, Garbo took a break from filmmaking. Although she reportedly considered several projects for a comeback, the title roles in Hamlet and The Portrait of Dorian Gray, among them, her break turned into permanent retirement.

It has been suggested that Garbo struggled greatly with her sexuality, only becoming involved with other women in affairs that she could control. Some also suggest that Garbo remained single in the United States because of an unrequited love for her drama school sweetheart, the Swedish actress Mimi Pollak. Garbo's personal letters recently released to the public indicate that she remained in love with Pollak for the rest of her life. When Pollak announced she was pregnant, Garbo wrote: "We cannot help our nature, as God has created it. But I have always thought you and I belonged together."

Famously connected to Mercedes de Acosta, one of the more Sapphic companions of the day, de Acosta wrote of their affair in her book Here Lies the Heart. Upon her death in 1990, Garbo left her entire, substantial estate to her niece, Gray Reisfeld, and nothing to Claire, the elderly female companion with whom she lived for many years.

Rose (C), son "Luis" (L) and Sam Steward

1909 – Francis Cyril Rose (d.1979), also Sir Francis, 4th Baronet of the Montreal Roses, was an English painter vigorously championed by Gertrude Stein. His wife Frederica, Lady Rose (1910-2002) became a well known travel writer, notably on Corsica, under the name of Dorothy Carrington.

Rose was born at Moor Park (Hertfordshire), England. He took up residence as an expatriate in Paris between 1929 and 1936, where he trained under Francis Picabia and José Maria Sert. Francis Rose got his beginning as a set painter for Diaghilev's Ballets Russes. He occasionally collaborated in his work with another English painter, and his sometime lover, Christopher Wood. In the 1930s he traveled with his future wife, Dorothy Carrington, in France, Italy, and North Africa.

In France, Rose became an intimate acquaintance of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, the former helping to launch his painting career by commissioning several of his works (most notably a portrait of herself) for her own notable art collection. Her memorable utterance, "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" dates from 1913, however, long before her acquaintance with the artist. Rose would go on to have exhibits in Paris, London, and New York. He also worked as an illustrator for a cookbook by Toklas, The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook.

The English artist was the last, and probably the most infamous, though least known, of Gertrude Stein's many protégés. Several of Francis Rose's drunken escapades are wonderfully recollected in Samuel M. Steward's Dear Sammy. One story, peculiarly or not-so-peculiarly omitted from the artist's autobiography, Saving Life. (1961), is about Luis, his valet de chambre. In 1952 Alice B. Toklas wrote Sam Steward to tell him that Francis Rose "was in a good deal of trouble with Luis his 'valet de chambre" boyfriend."A casual encounter between the artist and a Spanish gypsy boy in front of a bistro in Paris had resulted in not only an evening pickup, but in the young man being hired for the entire summer, as both valet and bedmate. As Sam Steward tells it, "It was only after Luis got into some trouble with the gendarmérie over a stolen bicycle that Francis — after he called to help him out of his difficulty — examined his papers and discovered that the boy was his illegitimate son. This episode titillated both France and England for some time. It certainly titillated Alice B. 'Francis,' she wrote, 'is saying that he is going to recognize Luis so he will inherit his title!! As yet this tale has not been confided to any English friends — who would put him straight about bastards inheriting titles…' "

Rose married the writer Dorothy Carrington in 1942. Alice Toklas for one was greatly enthusiastic about Rose's marriage to "Frederica" (Carrington), noting that the marriage had done Rose "a world of good." But Rose was a noted homosexual and the marriage eventually foundered. They divorced in 1966. Rose spent his final years in penury, helped along by certain friends, among them Cecil Beaton. Some of his paintings today form part of the Yale University Art Gallery (Stein-Toklas collection) and the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco.

In 1961 Rose published a memoir, Saving Life.

He made a brief appearance as "Lord Chaos" in Kenneth Anger's film Lucifer Rising (1972).

1928 – Jack Robinson (d.1997) was an American photographer famous for 1960s celebrity and fashion photography and documenting the New Orleans of the 1950s. Jack Uther Robinson, Jr. was born in Meridian, Mississippi. He grew up in Clarksdale, Mississippi, in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, an area famous for racial injustice, the Blues, and social and religious conservatism. His father was a mechanic and auto parts dealer.

Robinson attended Clarksdale High School, from which he graduated in 1945. He then enrolled at Tulane University in New Orleans, where he completed five semesters before dropping out in 1948. In 1951, he began his professional career in photography, working as a graphic artist for an advertising agency in New Orleans. He took numerous photographs of the city and his friends, many of them artists and photographers. His early work captured the charm of the French Quarter and documented New Orleans night life. It also preserved valuable glimpses into the New Orleans gay subculture of the 1950s.

Among Robinson's most fascinating images are photographs of the Mardi Gras festivities in the years between 1952 and 1955. Some of these document the celebrations in the gay area of Bourbon Street, especially around Dixie's Bar of Music, then one of the most prominent gay bars in the country.

In addition to architectural photographs, society portraits, and Mardi Gras pictures, Robinson also took a number of photographs of young gay couples, romantically posed. These photographs are striking because of their rarity, and touching because of their sincerity. At a time when there were few precedents for posing gay couples, Robinson conveyed homoerotic attraction in a number of ways, including having the young men stare deeply into each other's eyes and touch tentatively. The very awkwardness of these embraces conveys a profound sense of commitment.

During the New Orleans period, Robinson fell in love with a young man named Gabriel, whom he photographed incessantly, often in the nude. The Gabriel photographs are especially distinguished by their play of light and shadow and by their sensuality.

In 1954, Robinson and Gabriel travelled to Mexico. There the artist captured Mexican scenes in large and medium format photographs.

In 1955 Robinson and Gabriel moved to New York where he quickly became noted for his fashion photography. He was sought out by many of the top designers and others in the fashion industry. By 1959, one of his photographs graced the cover of Life magazine, signalling his arrival as a top commercial photographer.

Vogue's legendary editor-in-chief Diana Vreeland recognised Robinson's particular gift for portraiture. In addition to commissioning fashion photography from him, she also commissioned portraits of celebrities, especially the rising stars of music, film, television, and literature. Robinson's work appeared in Vogue over 500 times between 1965 and 1972.

By 1970, Robinson had established himself as one of the leading commercial photographers in the world. He travelled to Europe to record the fashion innovations of the great design houses. His work was regularly featured in the most prestigious fashion and celebrity magazines of the day.

But even as Robinson succeeded professionally, his personal life became increasingly problematic. His relationship with Gabriel failed. He suffered from the stigma associated with homosexuality. He increasingly turned to drugs and alcohol for solace. Frequently in the company of Andy Warhol and his entourage, he became part of New York's frenetic club scene.

Such fast living soon affected Robinson's work. His daybooks and list of commissions reflect the deterioration of his life. As jobs dwindled, he was forced to move from his fashionable studio at 11 East 10th Street. Finally, in December of 1972, he retreated to Memphis, where his parents and older brother lived.

Broken and addicted to alcohol, Robinson sought help from a long-time friend, who sponsored his membership in Alcoholics Anonymous and helped him recover his emotional health.

In Memphis, Robinson abandoned his career as a commercial photographer. He began painting and soon took a job as assistant to noted artist Dorothy Sturm, who designed stained glass windows for churches at Laukauff Studio, one of the largest stained glass studios in the country. Although he was undoubtedly lonely, and in the words of a friend 'full of anger and angst,' he seemed to enjoy his anonymity and seldom revealed that he had once been a leading photographer in New York City. In 1976, Robinson left Laukauff Studio to work at another glass studio, Rainbow Studio, where he was to remain for the rest of his career.

Robinson fell ill in November 1997 and was soon diagnosed with cancer. He died on December 15, 1997.

Robinson left his estate to his employer, Dan Oppenheimer, owner of Rainbow Studio. Oppenheimer was surprised to discover in Robinson's small and spartan apartment over 140,000 negatives. In 2002, Oppenheimer opened the Jack Robinson Gallery and Archive in Memphis. It is dedicated to preserving and promoting Robinson's legacy.

Although Robinson soon slipped into obscurity, his work has recently been rediscovered, thanks to the efforts of the Robinson Gallery and Archive and to several recent exhibitions in Memphis, London, and New Orleans.

1961 – Dag Hammarskjöld (b.1905), U.N. Secretary-General, dies in a plane crash while attempting to negotiate peace in the war-torn Katanga region of the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

Despite holding a position of public prominence as Secretary-General of the United Nations from 1953 until his death in 1961, he managed to withhold even the most minor details of his personal life from the world. Even his posthumously published journal, Markings, shies away from any mention of his private life. Possibly asexual, probably homosexual, Hammarskjöld was unable to accept his sexuality and lived an unhappy, frustrated life of sexual abstinence, suffering slurs from political figures and the international media. But though he couldn't resolve his own internal conflicts, he was masterful at settling external conflicts as he worked to solve disputes in Palestine, Vietnam, Egypt, and the Congo, demonstrating one of the classic, same-sex archetypes of the mediator.

1978 – Openly gay Billy Eichner is an American comedian, actor, writer, and television personality. He is the star, executive producer and creator of Funny Or Die's Billy on the Street, a comedy game show that airs on Fuse TV. Eichner was nominated for a Daytime Emmy Award for "Outstanding Game Show Host" in 2013. He is also known for playing Craig Middlebrooks on the sitcom Parks and Recreation.Eichner gained attention as the host and writer of Creation Nation: A Live Talk Show, a critically acclaimed stage show in New York. He also appeared on Conan as a special correspondent in original video shorts and as himself on Bravo's Watch What Happens: Live with Andy Cohen, Last Call with Carson Daly, The Wendy Williams Show, and Fashion Police with Joan Rivers, among others.

On August 5, 2013, it was revealed that Eichner would guest star in the sixth season of Parks and Recreation. Eichner's first episode aired on October 10, 2013. He stars as Donna's Eagleton counterpart, Craig Middlebrooks, who joins the Pawnee Parks and Recreation Department when Pawnee absorbs Eagleton. He became a series regular in episode four of the seventh season of the show.

Eichner starred in a Hulu original series titled Difficult People with Julie Klausner, and executive produced by Amy Poehler.

In July 2020, Eichner announced that he and Tom McNulty were developing a film biography of fellow Northwestern University alum Paul Lynde called Man in the Box, with Eichner portraying Lynde.In March 2021, Eichner announced that he is currently writing and starring in the film Bros, which tells the story of two gay men with commitment issues who decide to settle down with each other. Being produced by Universal Pictures, it is set to be the first adult-oriented LGBT movie ever produced by a mainstream film studio. In August of that same year, Amazon Studios announced that they had bought the rights to develop the film Ex-Husbands, starring Eichner and co-written by him and Paul Rudnick.

2011 – Died: Jamey Rodemeyer (March 21, 1997 - September 18, 2011) was an openly bisexual teenager, known for his activism against homophobia and his videos on YouTube to help victims of homophobic bullying. He committed suicide as a result of constant bullying.[

Jamey T. Rodemeyer lived with his parents and his sister in their home near Buffalo, New York. He was open about his sexuality, and faced severe bullying as a result of it. Rodemeyer's inspiration to help others came from Lady Gaga, whom he admired most. He often referred to her in his videos, and quoted her lyrics to provide guidance to others. He also made a video for the "It Gets Better" project, a website dedicated to preventing teen suicide.

Rodemeyer was found dead by his sister on the morning of September 18, 2011, in an apparent suicide by hanging. Before his death, he posted a final update on Twitter directed to Lady Gaga. The tweet read, "¡ladygaga bye mother monster, thank you for all you have done, paws up forever".

In an interview with Ann Curry on The Today Show Jamey's parents said that their son was still being bullied, even after his suicide. When his sister attended a school homecoming dance, Jamey's friends began chanting his name in support when a Lady Gaga song began playing. As a result, bullies at the dance began chanting that they were glad he was dead.

Lady Gaga later met with President Barack Obama to discuss what his administration would do to prevent bullying in schools. Also in response to his death, reigning Miss New York Kaitlin Monte founded an online petition to bring the issue of cyberbullying (known as "Jamey's Law") to New York legislators. Shortly after, State Senator Jeffrey Klein proposed new cyberbullying legislation. The two joined to launch the New York Cyberbully Census.

In October 2011 actor Zachary Quinto noted Rodemeyer's death as the genesis of his decision to come out publicly as gay, saying on his website "...but in light of Jamey's death - it became clear to me in an instant that living a gay life without publicly acknowledging it - is simply not enough to make any significant contribution to the immense work that lies ahead on the road to complete equality". In response to Quinto's coming out (and in reaction to gay suicides caused by bullying), Dan Kloeffler of ABC News Now also came out.

2012 – Berkeley, California becomes what is thought to be the first city in the U.S. to officially proclaim a day recognizing bisexuals. The Berkeley City Council unanimously and without discussion declared Sept. 23 as Bisexual Pride and Bi Visibility Day.

[hanbin-s-ssi]

ménage à trois || Lee Jeno x Yoo Jimin x Na Jaemin (s)

content: threesome, double penetration, pet names, degradation if you squint | established relationship, polyamorous relationship | sex toys, exhibitionism

pairings: idol!jeno x idol!karina x idol!jaemin

words: 1k

a/n: thank you @notjuniper for the request and for your patience ! I hope this helps to forget abt exams for a little while <3

-☘️-

‘Slow down, pretty,’ the words tumbled off of Jaemin’s lips and onto Jimin’s in a breathless clash of lips and tongues as she continued to grind her hips into him, his playful taunting falling on love drunk ears and making her insides flutter. Hardly anything could snap her out of it when she got like this; emboldened by a bit of soju and soft music that was only just loud enough to cover the sounds of her wet pussy lips kissing his pelvic bone.

And an audience of one.

Jaemin’s fingers knot around her gorgeous hair at the back of her head and pull her lips away from his just as he applies pressure to the jeweled plug nestled inside her ass. The sounds she makes almost make him want to beg her to be exclusive again.

‘Jeno, come here,’ Jaemin calls from across the room where the man in question was stood frozen in the doorway. It’d been so long since the last time they’d gotten to share her at the dorm.

So long since they could really take the time to pull her apart. Suddenly, Jeno was so glad he’d opted out of video games as he crossed the hall into his friend’s room, leaving the door ajar as he found it. She looked so good on top of him, the string panties she was wearing pushed aside and her pretty blush cardigan hanging from her arms, her only pieces of clothing as she straddled his waist, stuffed full of his friend and his favorite, pink heart-shaped butt plug. Jaemin’s fingers were sunken into the soft flesh of her ass, ceasing her bouncing and the sticky sound with it immediately.

Jimin’s labored breathing shook her body atop his and she wrapped her arms around his neck, dark eyes staring at his immaculate profile and smile as he stared only at Jeno, transfixed. Jaemin’s hand came down from her head and slid the plug free from her taut orifice easily, her body shaking again, ears and cheeks burning as she considered her position; the entirety of her sure to be on display. There was hardly time to feel self conscious— he was already moving again.

Slowly, deliberately Jaemin grabbed her hips and began to pull out of her, keeping her open and bare, presenting her as if an offering so Jeno could watch him slide all the way out until only the tip of him was nestled between her folds. The movement was an anchor pulling Jeno’s jaw to the floor and his dick to the sky. He was parched, his control like fine porcelain on a precarious slope.

‘I prepped her for you, but only with the plug. I know how you get when you don’t get to have her first,’ Jaemin whispered, making her skin buzz with anticipation, her fingernails curving into the skin of his shoulders. Jeno’s ears rung with the sound of breaking glass and he moved. There was rustling behind her, a loud thud like Jeno had maybe tripped and then there was a third hand on her ass, cooler and rough, squeezing the flesh on the back of her thighs and running over her skin obsessively. Another set of fingers lightly brushed over her taut entrance, teasingly applying pressure every now and again.

Jimin thought she was sobbing but she couldn’t quite remember if her cheeks had been wet before Jaemin’s teasing. Back when he was begging to worship her.

‘You don’t have to be gentle,’ Jaemin instructed, still staring at Jeno, enamored. He moved one hand off her ass to allow his friend room to grope and squeeze and stroked the back of her head soothingly. ‘You can take it, can’t you, baby?’ He looked down at her then,—eyes full of playful, sinful mischief— to observe Jimin’s eager nod.

She felt the full thickness of Jeno slide into her ass, the two sighing, deep and guttural, Jeno’s beautiful face twisting in pleasure, fingers gripping her waist as if to bruise and Jimin pressing her face into Jaemin’s neck as she was pushed right back down into his length entirely.

Full was a couple dozen muscle spasms ago.

Jeno started to move, perfect hips picking up speed and snapping sharply into the soft flesh of her ass as he drove her muscle apart like it was his only goal. It almost always was since they started training her to take him and he couldn’t ever be prouder of the way she tried to push back into his thrusts, meeting him halfway each time, like she wasn’t a sputtering, crying mess between them, a smile sliding across his lips.

‘That’s it.’ Jaemin encouraged, putting pressure on her lower back so she ground into his pelvis again when she threw her hips back. His eyes fell briefly to where Jeno was disappearing inside her, suddenly a little jealous. He could feel her drip onto his balls. Jeno’s fingers curled over her slight shoulder, unpeeling her from Jaemin and bringing his lips to her ear, pulling her arms back, eyes snapping to the boy’s under her and holding his gaze as he fed her praises and threats and epithets and curses.

‘Fuc— nngh,’ Jaemin drawled, eyes sliding shut as he drowned in the effects Jeno had on Jimin’s perfect body. He could feel her insides flutter and soften and slicken around his girth, making his hips buck up into her warmth, falling into rhythm with Jeno’s sharp thrusts. Her plump lips and cheeks shiny and rouged from all of it, her breasts swaying hypnotically above him as the two of them fucked her open. She was still so pretty even with her long hair fully a mess, strands sticking to her wet skin. Jaemin sucked his teeth to himself, running a hand over her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, her rib cage as she rocked into them, muscles spasming. He wondered how they would manage to pry themselves off of her.

[3garcons]

Half Waif at the Lift Series in Troy Music Hall April 2023

early edition

[eretzyisrael]

by Troy O. Fritzhand

Ishay Ribo, center, performing on stage. Photo: אביחי ג’רפי via Wikimedia Commons

Protests are scheduled at Harvard University in opposition to one of Israel’s most popular singers, who is set to perform on Tuesday. The concert of Ishay Ribo is being organized by Chabad of Harvard with the goal of raising money for Israel.

“Jewish hate and anti-Israel voices are targeting Harvard Chabad and Israeli artist, Ishay Ribo,” the campus group posted on Instagram. Continuing, they said, “Ishay is a man who embodies profound love and peace. His music inspires the soul and elevates consciousness. Jewish consciousness, and human consciousness.”

The post came after a self described “radical bookstore” in Boston, Lucy Parsons Center, posted on its Instagram, calling on anti-Israel protestors to “Join us for a PICKET AND PROTEST” of the show. They noted that the staff of the Sinclair Music Hall, where the concert is scheduled to take place, boycotted the event and the venue was forced to hire outside staff.

Chabad of Harvard added: “This evening was created to lift the spirits of Israeli and Jewish students suffering from Jew-hate on college campuses. Love, peace, and music will prevail.”

The protest comes as Harvard has gained a reputation since the war’s outbreak on Oct. 7 — when Hamas terrorists killed more than 1,200 Israelis and took hostage over 250 — for a lack of support of the school’s Jewish students. This included a Congressional hearing where then-university President Claudine Gay refused to condemn calls for the genocide of Jews, saying that they may or may not violate of Harvard’s code of conduct, “depending on the context.” Due to plagiarism accusations and backlash over the incident, she resigned in January.

[starfall-spirit]

✨️Put 5 songs you listen to, post it, then send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers :) 🎶

I'll tell you my top earworms

Ruthlessness, from Epic. Steven Rodriguez's voice is phenomenal. That song does something to me, okay. Tickles the brain just right. Give me a villain any day.

There are Other Ways, also from Epic. Girl, DO NOT get me started on Circe or I'll never shut up. "I remember actions of passion, I have been in love once before. Maybe on day the world will need a puppeteer no moooooooore." GIRL YES.

PotO overture and the title song. That duet... specifically Ramin Karimloo and Sierra Boggess (Royal Albert Hall 25th the things I'd give to have seen that show live) PERFECTION

Gemini, by Troy Doherty is such and earworm. I found this guy through his work as Hermes, sure, but the rest of his music is just as amazing as Wouldn't You Like

Oh yeah, and number five is Wouldn't You Like, because Hermes, darling.

[a-french-coconut]

Protector of Youth

Chapter 1 : Troilus (Athena)

There are whispers in the great halls of Olympus.

Quiet rumours travelling the streets of the golden city, about the greek army getting closer to the city's walls.

Apollo pays them no mind, it won't change the inevitable.

The future of Troy is already written and he cannot change it for all he wishes to.

His beloved Ilium shall fall in the monstrous hands of the Achaeans in less than ten winters.

His heart clenches at the thought of the royal family.

Wise king Priam and beautiful queen Hecuba.

Brave Hector and faithful Andromache, holding protectively against her breast young Scamandrius.

And Troilus, his precious son whose fate is unclear, his string not yet etched in the tapestry of Fate.

He could survive and depart with Aeneas, help him found Rome.

He could reach his twentieth birthday and save his city as it is prophesied. He is merely twelve now but he would grow into an amazing warrior.

He could die when the Greeks plunder Ilium and its wealths.

Endless possibilities, all ensuring a dark future for his son.

There is no world where Troy stands strong and his beloved Troilus doesn't loose all his family.

But he can help him survive the slaughter, guide him to Aeneas so that he may live.

He watches fondly his son and Polyxena sneak away from the city into the country land, laughing quietly in order not to get caught.

He doesn't interfere, they are far from the battlefield, no harm will come to them.

And if danger there is, Troilus knows to pray to him for he will always protect a young boy, especially his son.

Terpsichore calls him, the Muse happily dancing with nymphs and satyrs and offering to join.

With one last look to his son, Apollo lets himself get lost in the dance and the music, his golden tunics and gleaming long hair swirling around him as he leaves in awe all the onlookers.

As he sings alongside the Muses, he doesn't notice Athena leaving Mount Olympus in direction of the Achaean camp.

A temple is a god's most sacred place.

A place of refuge of his devotees, a place where no harm can be done or human blood can be shed.

No mortal in their right mind would ever dare desecrating such a sacral place.

And yet, Apollo can feel his temple has been corrupted.

He abruptly stops dancing, eyes a molten golden as the crowd parts it two to let him pass.

Whoever prideful mortal thought he would get away with is unscathed is awfully wrong.

Apollo is the Sun.

He sees all, knows all.

Nothing, and no one, can hope escape his divine justice.

When he arrives at the temple, everything is silent.

No wind swaying in the trees.

No birds chirping on the branches.

Eery silence.

On the temple's marches are laid the bloody corpses of his priests, stomach gutted open and white milky eyes frozen in terror.

Disrespecting his temple is already a punishable offence.

Killing his followers is an act worthy of a painful death.

He's going to burn them alive, to hear their scream echoing in the heavens and turn it into a melodious harmony.

Their death is recent, their bodies still soft and not rigid.

He frowns, why would they have been killed outside the building ?

He climbs the marches, passing through the already open gates.

At first he doesn't understand.

Then, his grief echoes like the howling of a wolf, deafening every creatures having not fled fast enough.

At the Greek camp, Achilles quietly joins his tent, ignoring Patroclus' curious gaze.

On Olympus, Athena requires an audience with the King.

He crumbles on his knees, his mouth producing a shrilling sound of discord, despair and rage.

In front of him, his Troilus watches him with horror, mouth open in a silent scream.

He carefully lift his head's son and cradles it, the rest of the body scattered in limbs across the room.

Polyxena is there too, but Apollo only cares about Troilus.

"Oh, my beloved son ! How have I failed you !"

He is the Protector of Youth, the one young boys pray to and cut their hair for him.

How ?

Why didn't he hear his prayers ?

"I'm sorry for your suffering", he whispers in a broken voice, "but I find small comfort in knowing you in Elysium, a place I'm sure you'll find to your liking."

He slowly gathers the body's pieces and takes them out the temple to burn them.

He places two drachmas of his son's eyes, and Polyxena's too, before lightning the fire.

That's when he notices two small things on the ground next to him.

A string of blond hair, coated with blood.

A owl's feather gleaming golden.

Pure hot white rage boils the ichor within his veins, his divinity pulsing against his human form, cracking it and deforming it.

The air around him becomes unbearably hot, sizzling against his skin.

Athena

Achilles

In a flash, his bow is drawn, an arrow ready to pierce that arrogant demigod's talon.

But when he tries to release the string, invisible chains bind him, not letting him shoot his arrow.

Hector will die before Achilles

He screams again, in frustration this time, sending the arrow in the nearby tree, combusting in flames.

Lightning strikes next to him despite the blue sky.

A summon, one he can't ignore.

He bids one last goodbye to his son's ashes resting on the burning pyre before disappearing in a flash of burning light.

"Father."

He bows slightly to Zeus, "may I ask why you summon me in my time of grieving ?"

"Such emotions for a mere mortal. You should know better than that brother, you are after all the all who prophesied his death."

A beat passes.

Inhale, calm the inferno growing.

Oxygen flood its blood, the boiling flames greedily inhaling the air to grow only stronger.

Skin cracks, ichor drips from the tight closed fits.

Divine essence seeps from cracks, pure heat dripping on his body.

Exhale, don't make harsh decisions.

"We are gods, Apollo. You will get over his death, don't burden us with all that misplaced sentiment."

With the howling of a wolf, form barely human, Apollo lunges himself at Athena, snarling and scratching her with his bare hands.

He feels like a supernova, like a star ready to explode.

He attacks her without any strategy, all he wants is to hurt her, to claw right into her essence and making it burn.

"Apollo, stop this madness at once !", she orders him, conjuring her spear to block his attacks.

He screams in return, a piercing sound, a screech really as he relentlessly lungs himself at her.

He is going to kill her, to send her to Tartarus.

Athena is a warrior but Apollo is a hunter.

And she is his prey.

Terrible bright light blinds the whole room, she winces, her grip on her weapon weakens.

He rips the spear out her arms and she is left defenceless for mere seconds.

It's all he needs.

He sees her throat, her unguarded throat. The only weak spot of her armour.

He can already feel the taste of ichor in his mouth, taste the fear and pain of the prideful goddess.

He bares his teeth, fully ready to plunge them in the bare flesh when familiar pain hits him, sending him tumbling on the ground.

Athena looks at him with wide eyes, his skin charred black from the lightning bolt their father just hit him with.

"Enough !", the King thunders, "Control yourself Apollo ! You are no minor god, you are an Olympian. Don't cover us with shame with such irresponsible attitude."

"She killed my son ! In my temple." he roars back, struggling to get back up.

"If I may Lord Father," Athena intervenes, "I had planned for Achilles to kill Troilus out in the wild. I did not expect the child to put up such fight."

Only the tingling of ozone in the air prevents him from conjuring a knife and gut her open.

"It doesn't matter what you intentions were, daughter. Apollo has suffered a great offence in the profanation of his temple."

He clenches his fist, trembling.

His son is dead, killed in the most gruesome way, and all Zeus cares about is that he was killed in the temple.

Should have Achilles killed Troilus when Athena intended him to, his father wouldn't even bother making this meeting.

"I ask for rightful punishment Father."

"I shall grant you the right to act as you wishes Apollo."

"When Achilles' time comes, I want to be the one to kill him.", he growls.

"As you wish my son. Now that this quarrel his deal with, I shall leave you. I have more urgent matters to take care of."

Zeus vanishes in a flash, leaving him alone with Athena in the throne room.

He sees her conjuring her shield, fearsome Aegis, and take a defensive stance but Apollo is too tired to attack her again.

A quarrel, a bickering between Athena and him. That's how his father views Troilus' death.

"If you don't agree with my actions brother, then at least understand them. Troy is fated to fall, but your son presented a chance of salvation." Athena's gaze hardens, "I will not have Ilium standing, not after the offence that pitiful prince caused me."

"That is your justification then, pride ?", he chuckles bitterly, "Will you not apologise for leading that murdered to my son ."

She bristles at the mention of it but nonetheless obliges.

"If it brings comfort then yes, I apologise for you son's brutal death. I agree that was no need for him to die in pain."

"You favour a mortal, don't you ?", he asks her, "what is his name again ?"

Her eyes narrow, "what are your intentions with Odysseus ?"

"Aha ! That's his name. Odysseus. I ought to right the crime done against me, against Achilles but also the whole greek army. They did plunder my temples and enslaved my priestesses."

"Don't tempt my patience Apollo, what do you want with Odysseus ?"

"I think I want to kill him", he snarls, looking right in Athena's eyes, "I want to strike him with one of my most despicable plagues, to see him suffer. I want him to see his dear Penelope and Telemachus in his dreams, knowing he won't ever see them again."

He gets closer to Athena, whispering right in front of her.

"What I want, Athena, is to see you suffer."

Before he can blink, the tip of her spear rests on his throat, her grey eyes radiation divine power.

"You will do no such thing," she hisses, "Odysseus is destined to become a great hero, I will not allow you to tamper with his fate."

"Like you did with my son's", he hisses back, yanking the spear away.

'Tell me, Wise One, what gives the right to kill Troilus because you felt like it but I cannot touch Odysseus ?"

"Troilus was fated to die", she says more calmly, "by one of your own prophecies."

"Troilus was fated to save Troy !", he shoots, "He was fated to sail with Aeneas on the wide sea ! Death was not the only option awaiting him. Death was the one you chose because you feared him."

He's panting heavily, eyes surely glowing golden.

"I'm going to kill Odysseus in front of you sister, you will watch as life leaves his eyes and you will watch it all because no prophecy protects him."

To his frustration, Athena smirks.

"Odysseus will not die by your hand Phoebus. I guarantee so."

It's her turn to get closer, confidence swaying around her.

"He is Hermes' great grandson. One he likes for reasons I care not to know. Which one do you value more, revenge against me or your friendship with our brother ?"

He doesn't say anything, fury growing as her smiles does too.

"We both the answer, do we not ? Then it's settled, Odysseus will live through this war and come back to Ithaca and his wife and son."

He stubbornly stays silent.

"That is the problem with emotional attachments Apollo," she says kindly, "they are so easily manipulated. I can only advise you to stop succumbing to them."

"I am emotions Athena, art is not something you can create without them."

She shrugs, clearly not interested in this debate.

"I'll see you soon brother, my soldiers await me on the battlefield. I need to show Ares that he's brutal force is nothing compared to my strategy."

She flashes away in the flock of feathers.

Years are less than the blink of an eye for a god.

He is standing on Troy's walls, looking at the man climbing them.

He is wearing Achilles' armour but Apollo is Truth, no disguisement can deceive him.

He kicks down Patroclus three times but the boy is persistent.

When he set foot on the wall for the fourth time, he sends him down with divine force, the blow hurting Patroclus when he touches the ground.

For an instant, he lays unmoving.

Enough time for him to get swarmed by Trojans, but still he puts up a impressive defence.

But he is no match for Hector, whose face when he discovers the trickery falls.

Hector will die before Achilles

When Achilles pierces Hector's throat, Apollo watches mournfully and horrified the treatment reserved of the prince of Troy.

Truly, Achilles has no respect in the gods.

But Hector is dead, which means Achilles will be soon.

There is no mistaking the wish of the son of Thetys to die. He lunges himself on the battlefield but no opponent is strong enough to face him and win.

He repeats a name constantly, his voice yearning for him.

Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus

Apollo hates Achilles for killing his son.

But he understands the loss of a lover.

Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus

So, he gently takes Paris' trembling arms, strings the bow who releases Achilles from his torment.

When the warrior falls, an arrow embedded in his talon, a smile adorns his face.

After his death, the war continues as it was fated.

Illium falls.

And Apollo watches.

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

A very detailed and dark dream I had last night about Gilbert...

cw: mass-murder, dead bodies, guns, arson

In my dream, I was playing a first-person shooter game, as Gilbert. I eliminated everyone on my path in the Rhodolite palace as they didn't stand a chance against Gilbert's shotgun, until the final mission of the game came where I had to enter this large banquet hall and kill all the nobles. They were sitting on a long table that was situated alongside the back wall of the hall, and I found a way to trick the game's mechanism HKKJKHL I stood just outside the entrance so that it wouldn't trigger their field of vision and just started killing them one by one from there. There were also some flammable objects that I could shoot to make them explode and kill the nobles easily... when I was done I simply entered and the mission was complete. The screen went black for a bit and then it showed the hall with removed furniture (save for the table with the nobles) so that the center was vast empty and still well-lit as if a ball was taking place.

Then I had to find a woman that was hiding somewhere in the hall. She was in some kind of large cabinet, looked very scared when I found her and was wearing a rather simple dress, not one that was suited for the banquet.

Then a cutscene played and it was Gilbert dancing with the woman in the center of the hall, with all the corpses (around a hundred) still slouched over their seats at the table behind them. I could hear the music playing very clearly and it was the first half of Vyn Richter's theme (from Tears of Themis), that is exactly waltz music...if anyone wants to give it a listen it's on youtube, but if you want a version that is just the waltz, maybe you can try Fabrizio Paterlini's Rue Des Trois Frères as it was most likely directly inspired by it.

I could then control the movement and direction as they simply waltzed around the hall, and there was a counter at the bottom of the screen, I had to keep doing it until it reached zero and then another cutscene came in and someone entered the hall, it was Chevalier.

Surprisingly, they started talking calmly... and then I woke up 😭