#~Helios (collective)

[lunee43]

Practicing designing these characters (totally not an excuse to draw more eurylochus ships…….)

[alongtidesoflight]

y'all... transmas(s)c effect...

[flamingophobia]

Early Mornings.

[jamesusilljournal]

Helio Santos

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

a 3 to 4a* reminder because I need to remember this again:

(* my time zone is Pacific; SW WA, USA)

You cannot save the world alone. You cannot overthrow a corrupt government alone.

Resistance, revolution—there are individual acts we can take to further these, but they are won through community effort.

You should not be expected to solve all the world’s problems alone, and it’s not even possible to do all of this alone.

Progress follows the loudest voices. Change bends to the largest communities.

This can mean the angry, cruel people are in control. It can also mean the compassionate people are in control, if they’re willing to speak up & keep fighting en masse.

But again, communities and voices, not one person fixing it all.

You are not bad, a failure, or in any way at fault for current world events or family drama or anything else you want to resolve right now.

It takes a village, not a vigilante. In this case, it takes an overall-united social movement, not a dissenting voice.

One voice is (unfortunately) too easy to silence. One voice will need time to rest and reignite the fire between battles.

No matter how loud you scream, or for how long, you will not solve everything alone. Worldly issues, country/nation-state level issues, even city or neighbourhood issues...anything impacting a community requires community cooperation, and intersectional support.

All this to say, let yourself breathe. Let yourself rest. The news is terrifying right now for many of us*.

(* the AfD in Germany, the current extremist administration in the USA, the reignited brutality in Palestine, just to call out a few examples that are stressing me out)

You are not alone, nor should you be expected to be alone. (Even if you are alone in person, you are not alone in the world or on the internet.)

The guilt/shame, the instinct/feeling to stop all the conflict & protect others, these are valid. You are allowed to feel overwhelmed, to feel panicked, to be/feel hypervigilant. It’s valid that you are struggling with the state of things.

But the narrative that was imposed on you to fix it all is crippling and pointless. That narrative doesn’t treat you like a sentient person, nor does it realistically lead to progress.

Be an ally and a community member; don’t try to be a vigilante.

If we compare resistance/revolution to a choir/choral group, the song doesn’t end if you pause to breathe (other voices will still be heard around you), nor does it conclude because you sing so long/loud that you faint from lack of air.

Joy and rest are revolutionary too. Seek and embrace these; they will keep you in the fight.

Sleep, take a shower/bath, do a face mask. Frolick in a field, visit your favourite nature reserve/park, meet up with friends. Do something accessible and affordable to recharge/have fun. Sleep, play, educate (yourself & others), persist.

The choirs of change will keep singing, and will be there when you are ready to join us again.

[sorakazeno]

Sailor Moon Planner

This book is really cute as a planner.

Cover

Back.

Inside cover jacket.

Senshi shoes and accessories drawing.

Monthly calendar

Good luck writing appointments in here!

September 2023 month view features Pluto. Picture was actually taken in September. Slowly adding everything to the blog!

Garnet Orb and Time Key in the glass.

Sticker pages.

Pluto and Saturn fuku.

Uranus and Neptune fuku.

Chibi Moon fuku and Helios robes.

Jupiter and Venus fuku

Mercury and Mars fuku

Moon fuku and Tuxedo Kamen's... tuxedo

Starlights bracelets? Arm bracelets? What is the right term?

Starlights fuku and

Black Lady dress

[kamilleapologist]

this blog is already a loose assortment of things i like so. could anyone reasonably stop me from posting moth pictures if i desired so. hm

[aecholapis]

Secret and Ghost for Helios? :3

We're tormenting the boyo, I see hehe :3

Secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

He's not a very secretive person but there are things he'd rather not talk about. His past, for example. Chances are that if one asked him about it, he would try to change the subject or distract from the topic if possible.

The human rescue team was the first to interrogate him on his past and while he wasn't keen on reliving memories he has buried in the deepest part of his mind, he did tell them enough to satisfy their curiosity.

The first Cybertronian who asked for his background (for safety reasons) was Nightjet. As the head of security, it's his job to be informed about everyone on the ship. Their newest crewmember can't be found on any database, courtesy of Proteus who didn't want his security personnel to be identified by anyone. They weren't real citizens of Cybertron in his eyes and as far as the government was concerned, they never even existed.

He doesn't spend enough time with Ironwing to open up about this particular part of his past and Iwy never asks.

Ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

His guilt for letting his brother die. 'Letting' should be in quotation marks because he believes it's his fault for not stepping in to intercept the shot that killed Aegis. Now he thinks he's hallucinating, as Aegis keeps showing up in his visual feed for a second and when he looks again, he's usually gone. Sometimes, he thinks his brother wants to tell him something, his mouth is moving but no words are coming out.

Until the supposed hallucination lingers one day. Helios approaches what he thinks is his brother's ghost. It doesn't budge, it doesn't react, it stays still in the shadows of the Stellar Observatory's darkest part until it disappears. The next time it happens, it speaks to him and tells him everything he doesn't want to hear.

After this encounter he is quite shaken and holes himself up in his cabin for a while. He has to get up for his next shift though and so he leaves the safety of his room and doesn't tell anyone at first. Of course. I mean, why would he.

He's scared of something he can't explain yet. Unknowingly to him, the hallucination changed its behavior shortly after Firecry's crew came on board.

Helios doesn't know Carbonlight has caught up to the crew they betrayed just to mess with their processors before the final confrontation against the shapeshifter and their starformers.

grabbing him

[trevlad-sounds]

SUNDAY 10 September Mixtape 368 “Garden Landing”

Synth Electronica Wednesdays, Fridays & Sundays. Support the artists and labels. Don't forget to tip so future shows can bloom.

Secret Circuit-Electric Garden 00:31

Home-We're Finally Landing 03:50

Helios-All The While 07:59

Apta-The Split 12:32

Polypores-Hexagram 16:48

KILN-Burl 19:46

James Bernard-A Feeling (Christian Kleine Remix) 22:12

Lee Hannah-Cheap Perfume 27:48

Loris S. Sarid-Pretty Cloud 30:17

Glinca-And Destroy 33:18

Oberu-The Oracle 38:34

Maston-Hydra 40:52

Erik Strauss-Subside 42:28

Joerg Dankert-Last Goodbye to Earth 46:04

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

I wanna share a trans/nonbinary tidbit about abortion protestors, Planned Parenthood, & starting to “pass” as a man, inspired by this. It was silly in real time, despite the wild (/neg) ideology behind it.

I went to Planned Parenthood for HRT because they do informed consent. We did all the paperwork stuff for insurance & whatnot & got approved. That was back in May of 2023.

I did not pass at the time, not by their standards. (That “body weight distribution” change from HRT is no joke.) But I did my check-in for HRT there, roughly once a month for the first 6 months (I bumped the dose up whenever allowed, which requires a one month check-in), then every 3 months from there. (¡I am now approaching year two! ☺)

For the first nine months (coincidental alignment with pregnancy “clock”), they were horrified/frantic every time they saw me, trying to wave me down & tell me that the Lady of Life* wanted My Baby™ to live.

(* very important to them; this is the most common denomination of xtian protestors at this particular clinic location)

Every time I just gave them a baffled smile & walked to the door.

Finally, after the 3-month gap to month nine, I began to “pass”. They saw me walk towards the doors, no longer identifiably trans / no longer perceived as a “woman” by their standards.

And they glitched—I watched them blink fast several times, tilt their head, look to eachother, etc. as I walk up to the door and ring the bell (clinic added it for covid).

I don’t know if they concluded I must be a trans woman, or couldn’t comprehend why a “man”* would be at this clinic. What I do know is they left before I came out, about 40 minutes later. This was a very new, very funny development.

(* I’m actually nonbinary/genderqueer)

But the shift was undeniable & ridiculous*.

(* using “ridiculous” with both its silly & judgemental connotations)

I still think its the funniest shit ever that when I used to volunteer at planned parenthood every week even though I walked past mostly the same protesters every single time they were begging me not to get an abortion theres other options yadda yadda. Like meemaw you see me here every week. They call me abortions georg because I get another one every Monday at 8am

[brimo5]

If Plouton is the better version, then Sarapis, who's photo come out first on Hades' wiki page, is the best version. As the master of universe, king of dead, god of healing and other useful power, Sarapis is often seen alongside a three-headed dog and wear a cool crown.

He remains devoted to his wife and has never been involved in any kidnapping drama. One of my favorite images of Sarapis shows him and Isis deeply immersed in a kiss.(x) The only "issue" is that he and Isis might be siblings. Osiris is well-known to be Isis's brother, but the details regarding Sarapis are rather vague. (Maybe I just missed it, I can't remember any sources about it.)

The other one of my favorite(X), Helios embrace Sarapis and kiss him passionately,while Sarapis seems quite nervous.🤣 An interesting related story is as below:

There was a tiny window so orientated toward the direction of sunrise that on the day appointed for the statue of the sun to be carried in to greet Serapis, careful observation of the seasons had ensured that as the statue was entering, a ray of sunlight coming through this window would light up the mouth and lips of Serapis, so that to the people looking on it would seem as though the sun was greeting Serapis with a kiss.(X)

Many Greek/Roman authors identify Sarapis with Plouton or Hades, but also Zeus, Dionysus, Asclepius and others. I am not suggesting that image of Sarapis should not be called Hades, but it's important to recognize both their similarities and differences.

[horsegamergirl]

Name: Garmrs Schwinge

Creator: Whata (DE)

Colours: black, brown

Species: Riding Pegasus

Uses: unlimited

Name: Восхождение

Creator: HIKIREN (RU)

Colours: red, yellow

[sorakazeno]

Hot Pepper Beauty Magazine

Each magazine is the same minus the covers. Same advertisements and beauty articles.

Inner Senshi

Front cover art with writing over it.

Sailor Chibi Moon and Helios

Front cover art with writing over it.

Sailor Saturn and Sailor Pluto

Front cover art with writing over it.

Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune

Front cover art with writing over it.

Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen

Front cover art with writing over it.

[helioswatchstore]

Buy Balmain Watches Online only at Helios Watch Store

The Balmain watch collection at Helios Watch Store features an extensive range of meticulously crafted timepieces that exemplify the brand’s dedication to innovation, precision, and style.

[abyssyby]

where the light touches

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

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

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

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

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

And yet, he insists on rising with you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

Trivial. Unnecessary. Boring. 

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

Curious, he opens your thread of messages. 

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

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

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

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

part two: where shadows rest

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

thank you for reading!

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Lord Frederic Leighton (British, 1830-1896) Helios and Rhodes, n.d. Helios fell in love with the sea nymph, Rhode, daughter of Poseidon, and they lived together on Rhodes as protector god and goddess, with Helios naming the island in her honour. They had seven sons, known collectively as the Heliadae, and a daughter, Electryone. Mycenaean Greeks and Minoans generally depicted women with pale or white skin and men with tanned skin. Male warriors like Odysseus were usually described as having sun-browned or bronzed skin.