*̶ ꌃlight of apollo.

my heart's an artifice,  a decoy soul.

[daylighterarchived]

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𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐌, the poison's in the tail 𐊌 independent blog for kenneth vareck, original roman demigod and son of apollo from the heroes of olympus series by rick riordan, with influences from roman mythology & slight canon divergences. non-pjo verse available. dark material present, no minors. written by havi, they / them, 25 • affiliated: godwitch & sheikage.

themes explored  :     dilemma of fate versus free will,   where psychosis and fantasy merge,   blonde ambition ( threat ), light as a deceptive force, villain hidden in plain sight,   magnificent bastard,   love  &  death’s champion, the sun is an eater.

                             ¹ carrd, ¹ headcanons, ¹ memes.

﹙ a small introduction … ﹚ kenneth is a roman demigod and son of apollo residing in camp jupiter,   a safe haven for his kind and legacies of the roman realm.   he is a conduit to the fates,  a general,  and the junior centurion of the first cohort,   replacing octavian after his death.   kenneth is primarily based post-heroes of olympus ( and trials of apollo ),   at which point he is 21-25 years old.

﹙ basic rules apply … ﹚ i'm open to feedback, but i won't tolerate competitive attitudes and generally being a dick — please find another portrayal if mine is not for you. lastly, any modicum of bigotry, sexism, islamaphobia, anti-semitism, zionism, queerphobia will result in a hard block. psd: calisources.

accessibility request : i also request that colours, fancy letterings and double / triple spaces between words be avoided when writing with me. kindly soft-block when unfollowing and feel entirely free to re-follow whenever!

﹙ regarding canon and original work … ﹚ please do not steal my work.   i am critical of some of rr’s choices and tend to avoid or edit his takes on the gods which are frequently disrespectful outside of comedy,   as well as some choices made story-telling wise re:   see here.     for engagement outside of the riordanverse, my general / modern day mythology verse is here, though it can easily be adapted into a historical setting.

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hello all! have slowly moved to a new fresh space.

[daylighterarchived]

hello all! have slowly moved to a new fresh space.

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hello all! have slowly moved to a new fresh space.

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not that kenneth has any interest in being one, but in modern verse he'd make a devastating lawyer.

[catnippackets]

here are some more gofundmes I've been asked to share! I have not vetted any of these personally since I can't do that, but I checked that they have been vetted by others.

@asmaamajed2 - gofundme ($2,165 USD raised of $50,000 goal)

@emanfamily81 - gofundme (€3,848 raised of €38,000 goal)

@ahmedkhabil - gofundme (£1,187 raised of £81,000 goal)

@haneenmohamaad - gofundme (€573 raised of €25,000 goal)

@abood-family-gaza - gofundme ($245 USD raised of $20,000 goal)

@children-gaza - gofundme (€5,397 raised of €15,000 goal)

@fahedshehab-new - gofundme (€30,063 raised of €50,000 goal)

@hsalem-1 - paypal (€40 raised of €3,000)

@help-mona - gofundme (€2,546 raised of €185,300 goal)

@falestine-yousef - gofundme (kr87,462 SEK raised of kr300,000 goal)

@mahmoudkhalafff - gofundme (€19,875 raised of €30,000 goal)

@bshaeromars-blog - gofundme ($12,259 USD raised of $40,000 goal)

@nourashoure44 - gofundme (£372 raised of £80,000 goal)

@alhabil - gofundme (€21,076 raised of €50,000 goal)

@m0hammed1 - gofundme (€8,427 raised of €25,000 goal)

@dima96yousef - gofundme (€13,227 raised of €25,000 goal)

@nedataya - gofundme ($2,367 USD raised of $29,500 goal)

@abdelmutei - gofundme (€6,103 raised of €50,000 goal)

@mohammedhaboubsblog - gofundme (kr62,782 SEK raised of kr300,000 goal)

@alaakh99 - gofundme (€4,953 raised of €100,000 goal)

@hanaa987 - gofundme (£7,511 raised of £20,000 target)

@ranin3344 - gofundme (€5,603 raised of €80,000 goal)

@abedallhferwanagaza - gofundme (€465 raised of €35,000 goal)

@malakabed - gofundme (€4,860 raised of €25,000 goal)

@hashem-fromgaza - gofundme ($6,923 raised of $82,000 goal)

@rolaisam - gofundme (€541 raised of €60,000 goal)

@mahmoudkhalafff - gofundme (€19,875 raised of €30,000 goal)

@mohamedjameel - gofundme (€3,109 raised of €35,000 goal)

@burningnightgiver - gofundme ($9,751 raised of $50,000 goal)

@hmzamahamed3 - gofundme (€26,864 raised of €37,000 goal)

@save-mohamed-family - gofundme ($6,897 raised of $50,000 goal)

@abdalhadiaburas - gofundme ($1,570 raised of $60,000 goal)

@atalah-mohammed - gofundme (€9,900 raised of €82,000 goal)

@helpfamily - gofundme ($3,729 USD raised of $50,000 goal)

@olagaza - gofundme ($23,616 USD raised of $50,000 goal)

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every roman show is like this

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hiatus in effect 🕯

my dissertation is due next month so i'm gonna be locking down to study most days. may do a reply here or there on my day's off but i'll save most of my energy for writing until my work's done. i might consider moving to a fresh blog as well once i'm back since this one's more than a year old now . . . but i'll be around on discord for keeping contact, and won't be dropping any threads!

[jadenvargen]

Link: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-zinh-rebuild-her-life-and-achieve-her-dream

I was contacted personally by zinh in gaza to help her cause. She is so close to her initial goal! (39000/50000 as of 6/8)

Donate to Help Zinh Rebuild Her Life and Achieve Her Dream, organized by Miranda Harris

My dear friend Zinh Dahdooh is asking for support to gather enough fun… Miranda Harris needs your support for Help Zinh Rebuild Her Life and

This is the initial costs are 50000, but with hopes and goals to cover each family member as you all know the extortiinate prices of crossing the border. goals to help evacuate the rest of her family, including her younger sibilings and mother. More details are on zinhs twitter. https://x.com/zinh_1?mx=2

https://x.com/zinh_1?mx=2

Her last GFM was frozen because of the amount of money withdrawn, but the problems are all cleared now. She manages her campaign herself and reaches out to a lot of people. We can pick up the slack and lessen her stress by spreading and engaging- like i said, repost away any version of this QR code or drawing. Please do help, or if you can’t, RB, or repost as you please.

[daylighterarchived]

hiatus in effect 🕯

my dissertation is due next month so i'm gonna be locking down to study most days. may do a reply here or there on my day's off but i'll save most of my energy for writing until my work's done. i might consider moving to a fresh blog as well once i'm back since this one's more than a year old now . . . but i'll be around on discord for keeping contact, and won't be dropping any threads!

[daylighterarchived]

loz verse things but the prince probably initially used a javelin as his main weapon. when it's kenneth, it's a scythe and the javelin is likely broken and put away somewhere in the palace in a glass display or something idk how sentimental they'd be lol!

[pietistics]

you do me wrong, i’ll shoot you for it. you do me right… well, i still may shoot you for it.

standing outside kenneth's little church, eli felt the sudden, prickling desire to walk over and snatch his companion's cigarette from his grasp. what a snide little man. but he didn't move. instead, he stared, resolute, dark eyes slightly narrowed and breath strategically even. things were still tense between them, the air at all times thick with grievances, every scowl, every look a reminder of the promise he'd inadvertently broken as a boy. but his very presence that day was a testament to how determined he was to set their dynamic to rights. eli wanted him close, he wanted him back, and he wouldn't be dissuaded by foul words or snappy threats. the sun shone right in his face; he squinted, stepped aside to avoid its direct rays, and let his arms hang unmoving by his side. “ be my guest. you wouldn't be the first. ” a beat. “ ...or the last. ”

@daylighter.

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he hated him, rather fiercely. another minute and kenneth was sure he'd chew through his cigarette until the lit embers burned his tongue right off. it would be better that than this, better the heat of mortal pain than the god's grudge stuck in his throat. eli's response seemed morbidly characteristic. he thought he heard it echo in his skull only seconds before it happened in real-time. was he suddenly omnipresent now? maybe when it came to this asshole. he would be the oracle if it meant knowing in advance how to piss him off.

so he laughed a little at this caricature of false defeat and irritating bravado. maybe the rumours were true, and the hunter really was unbearable. he'd left a string of bodies behind him to show case his immortality anyway. the shadows talked to kenneth, reported back like dutiful soldiers. eli had eventually found his own door to test.

          ❛❛ no, i won't be the last,   ❜❜  he said from the church door, then leaned sideways to pick something off the creaking wooden table he had set up under a portrait of mary. ❛❛ you're too god-damn unbearable for nobody else to shoot you too. but my shot'll be memorable.   ❜❜  what he had pulled out of hiding was a rifle gun. he took aim within seconds and fired in even less, and watched the incendiary bullet blast open eli's shoulder.

[satellitewar-archived]

"ke'pare!" the second vareck is under attack, his wings, outstretched like shelter, din is there. the mandalorian leaps into the space between the attacking barabel and his companion, hand slamming onto the panel on his right vambrace. in seconds the space around them engulfs with flames — din, back to back with kenneth and his wings, buries the barabel in a sea of sweltering fire. though it does its damage well and causes many enemies to shout and retreat, a few power through the onslaught, still firing their weapons and howling at the mandalorians in their presence. that's when din, with his left hand freed, wrestles his blaster from its holster and swarms the remaining pockets of clean air with a barrage of gunfire.

it pushes them back. the barabel don't retreat completely from their ambush, but they add distance to their attacks now, panicked by the fire as it singes their skin and worsens their ability to fight. din hastens a glance back at kenneth, checking on his status, on the sight of his protective wings, and turns back to the enemy before them. "jii vi ram'or." hopefully @daylighter is ready for the next wave. it's a smaller crowd of barabel now, some fleeing, but the ones who remain to resume the attack are visibly angered by the use of his flamethrower. "gar hiibir te payt." din rolls his armored shoulders in preparation for the next round, certain kenneth will remain by his side until the enemy has fully retreated or run aground. they are still new to each other, but their shared language bonds them in natural, intense connection. "ni ganar te staabi." he aims his blaster. "jii."

[daylighterarchived]

even vader's wrath could not thin the spirit of the mandalorians, no matter the years that passed and the graves that doubled. he saw it as much in the young warrior that sprung forward rather than back, as many cowardly fools would have done against the barabel, and chanced his guns with the precise certainty only a mandalorian could champion. was that his arrogance speaking? perhaps, but he did not have a track record for being wrong often. the next wave comes down relentlessly on their heads. by now the barabel themselves have begun to realise that they have gotten far more than what they bargained for. despite having four times the number of assailants, they had not been able to repress two mandalorians.

din ducks beneath the cover of the wing and takes to action. once the firing sputters off, his wings snap shut and kainnech is gone from his position, quick as scything light, and raking his dagger to the neck of the nearest barabel. the archer goes down in a fit, its arrow shot off-angle and injuring a companion instead of din.

then his helmet unfolds, slides back and up from the mouth, until his teeth snap free; the barabel manages a yelp, before a spray of blood leaves him silence, his oesophagus shredded, and his helpless body discarded. a beat of his wings, restless and furious, returns him to the other's side in a swift glide. their enemies have begun to falter and run, half of them shot full of bullet holes or scarred with fire from din's work. ❛❛ luubid be ibic.   ❜❜  his head turns left, from the mandalorian's visor to the grenade in his hand to finish this filthy job. ❛❛ you fight well for a stripling. maela, mando.   ❜❜

[vipier-a]

RARELY DOES THE PRINCE SPEAK, TRISTAN HAS NOT BEEN ABLE TO HELP BUT NOTICE DURING HIS SERVICE. but for one so silent, there is something endlessly curious about him, about those eyes that seem to so rarely close, that seem to miss nothing in his constant observance of his surroundings. at first, tristan had found it unnerving – as if he himself is not similar, as if he does not cause other people regular discomfort with the intensity of his gaze – but he's grown used to it by now. frankly, few in this castle endeavor to speak to him, simply the sheikah guard of the neglected prince. the primary difference in the prince himself is that he seems unbothered by tristan's heritage and does not appear to share the suspicion of tris's kind that has become prevalent in other hylians, specifically those of status. if anything, kenneth's few words have proven supportive, even if not spoke directly to his guard. for tristan's part, it does not comfort him, but he is far more predisposed to distrust, especially of his superiors.

" it is my responsibility to know about you, highness, " he answers without enthusiasm, his gaze following the prince keenly as he circles like a bird of prey before a strike. not that tristan has any particular concern that he will strike at all. rather, this feels more like a test than anything else, not particularly serious more than kenneth pressing against a pressure point or two and gauging the result. it is not the first time and tris suspects it will not be the last. " I am but a guard. you should not otherwise concern yourself. for you to know more about me would simply be to court disappointment. " or perhaps to find ser tristan strung upon the gallows for treason.

the dagger, however, briefly distracts him, and his jaw draws tight at the glint of it, at the casualty of the prince's words, the truth of them reverberating down his own spine like the strike of a blacksmith's hammer against an anvil. would it have to be him? no, he tells himself, it is still far too soon yet in his mentor's plans.

" I said nothing of boredom. " and though he speaks truth, tris internally curses himself for any ounce of transparency – for he does indeed find himself so frequently bored. the training that defined his childhood had been relentless, brutal, sharpened him into an exacting blade at an age some might claim too young for such violence, but it had made him effective, given him a direction for his restlessness. he had miscalculated, apparently, that the return of that restlessness would go unnoticed, but he files away the reminder to be warier around the observant prince. " but that is the purpose for which I am here. they may try for your life, but not before crossing me. "

the knight does not compromise his posture as he resumes his customary place beside the door, his eyes remaining steadfastly on his charge, only flickering now and again to the polished blade in the prince's hand. beautifully made, as most anything else that finds its way into a royal's possession, but he would have to hold it in his own hand to determine by its weight and balance how effective it might realistically be in a fight. despite himself, he finds himself inclined to ensure kenneth is in possession of an effective weapon. just as quickly, he dismisses the thought as the determination to complete his mission on his own, rather than let somebody less worthy do it for him.

" are you implying you think I wish to impress your sister? " a conclusion tristan supposes would find support in the minds and hearts of most in his position. so many of the royal guards practically climb over one another to be near zelda, vying near daily for the privilege of standing beside her, of protecting her. tris's charge is far less envied, the prince regarded as largely tertiary by most, extraneous to the alleged prophecy which binds the princess. for his part, the knight prefers things this way, prefers to remain as invisible as he can and simply observe. it is only the prince who makes this difficult, ever watchful, frequently his only company in a castle that feels entirely too large. to tristan's irritation, he finds it increasingly difficult not to sympathize with the prince's isolation. " I have no desire to clamor for additional attention. perhaps you misjudge the extent of my ambition or the depth of my commitment. or perhaps you wish to goad me into participation for your own reasons. are you so curious how I would fare? "

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he stood quietly, fingers steepled behind his back, as the guard took to lecturing him with the speed and efficiency normally employed by impa, who, unlike tristan, had both the boldness and the authority to pull his ear while she was at it too. the reminder brought a wistful sigh to his lips, though he tried egregiously and nobly to not tune the guard out, or remind him he was speaking to the prince. that ceremonial title would not suit a walking corpse at any rate, and though his father the king was not prone to dispensing important life lessons on his only son, he had once told him the story of a king, who barked too far and too wide about his status, and therefore, was no king at all. the dagger in his hand was a comfort; while few saw the worth in him in the castle, he had made his mark elsewhere, by the hylians who had taught him war and battle, lent him his scars.

he doubted the sheikah standing proudly before him knew of that, but perhaps it was for the better that he did not as of yet: a prince too quick and clever on fighting and winning wars would not befit the image of his spare-ness.

❛❛ and you know more than me about royal etiquettes too,   ❜❜ he said, and any sarcasm that might have been, was difficult to suspend with the wide eyed brightness he bore. he clasped his hands together and tucked them beneath his chin, as if utterly focused. ❛❛ that is good, i rarely listened in twenty one years. now, i shouldn't dare disappoint the court.   ❜❜

he said this bit more seriously, his mouth twitching. of course, the prince would never cross the court! not even for the sheikah, apparently. it would have been within his jurisdiction and right then to retort more viciously for insolence, but he held his tongue, not for the matter of mercy but for fact: the guard, for all his ramblings, seemed to have not forgotten his task at all. that was good enough for a start. the mention of the prince's sisters slowed his thoughts and movements; though he does not let go of the knife, he presses its tip to his index, his face contorting into a soft sort of thoughtfulness as he set his back to the guard. must it always be about her? but that was a weak and faded complaint. of a child perhaps. and even young, he might have hated her for all of it, if he did not love her as earnestly as she loved him. it was why when he rounded on the guard, some of his humour had faded with calculation.

            ❛❛ yes. do you not?   ❜❜ and with the way that he had said it, it was apparent there was only one right answer to this lest heresy be proclaimed: yes. ❛❛ she would deserve it, and a moment of reprieve.   ❜❜ the knight retorts back, and he cannot help but be reminded, that the perceptions of the castle must have slithered into the minds of the sheikah too. for this one spoke to him as one would speak to an unknowing simpleton, and he restrained his irritation and hurt, there was no point to it at all. ❛❛ the second,   ❜❜ he answered simply, as if he sought merely entertainment and whim. ❛❛ i should like to see how you fare. besides, you would be adorned in a helmet, and you need now say your name. here.   ❜❜ he flipped the dagger over, handle to the knight while the blade sat between his skin, refusing to slice it open.

his smile was careful and light, but those who knew him better would find the mischief just beneath. ❛❛ a gift, and my token. you will fight for me if you choose, or i should select a new champion.   ❜❜

[thesoldiersminute]

Peaky Blinders Season 4 | Episode 1

[ofsoul]

the smoke only reaches her in dissipating graces,    its softness lets her swallow and recognize her nerves through the carbon’s embrace.    it dawns on her that she’s close again,    and she’s drowning again,    oxygenless and naive.    but locked in his eyes she finds herself in a different type of cage.    there’s something viciously beautiful about being seen like this,    when her own galaxies are framed by bloodshot scleras,    a badge earned by her brief,    yet honest tears.    when he speaks and she considers it praise for her honestly,    she starts craving the feeling again.    it makes her anxious,    or excited.    she can’t differentiate her own emotions,    her stomach flutters the same.    

she’d protest his claim of her delusions,    even when she knows he’s right,    but his thumb finds her lips and she’s fallen silent.     he’s a devil because she wants him to be,    scrutinized him with the most arduous whip because it had been the only way she allowed herself to study him.    her hand,    that once framed her own face,    now trails alongside the wrist.    feathery,    sparring breeze that barely grazes.    her other hand falls to toy with the edge of the wood next to his frame,    not daring to venture further.    

it’s when he condemns him with a question that a void encompasses her abdomen,    but she doesn’t pull away now.    she can’t,    she doesn’t want to.    dragging her bottom lip upwards,    unseizing from his thumb,    pushing mild wetness across his thumb,    she speaks,    the cherub eyes softening the provocation of the gesture into something more playful.    her lips never twirl to confirm her innocent intentions,    she’s also not the best judge of how her own body reacts to him.    in the way her lips part and close a few times,    it’s evident how troubling it is to formulate a proper answer.    her strength is never leaving the softened blade of his gaze.   

‘ if i kiss you,    ’ the action seems unnatural to say,    ‘ then i cannot spare you.    i cannot save you from my want.    ’ her lips dangerously near the ends of his fire,    the smoke itself kissed her there,    making him a voyeur to his own addiction.    ‘ i fear… i want so much,    none of it good.    you may have not made me one,    ’ a monster ‘ but you should have,    ’ her lips surpass the periphery of individuality,    but they do not satiate either of their compulsions yet.    the hand that held his wrist now nudges the cigarette to its side,    not daring remove it entirely,    opening space for her nose to press against his cheek.    she almost tenderly kisses his skin there,    but halts to speak against it instead,    brushing with each word.    the sweet scents in his mouth are replaced with nicotine,    it makes her want to embark her tastebuds to see if she could still discern fruit in his canines.     ‘ command me. where    ?    where am i allowed to kiss    ?    ’

[daylighterarchived]

the touch at her lip quietens her, and for once, she truly makes to hear him. not as she ought to by her creed, but as he wishes her to; it allows their eyes to meet, hung taught like a pendulum swing now frozen in time. tied together now, it seemed unthinkable that she would pull away a second time, and he was proven right as she stands her ground, more equipped with an awareness of herself and the point of her pulse, because she does not shy her gaze from him. instead, she leans her mouth dangerously close, until their knees brush and she has taken up into his space. for once, shame does not take up the air between them. he is not naive to think she has forsaken it completely, but it no longer chokes every word she might say to him in that moment alone.

slowly, she issues her warning. he thinks it sounds rather like a promise, or a boon he's been chancing at. but he shall not contradict her, and for now, offers her a curt nod of acceptance.

       ❛❛ i am not asking to be saved,   ❜❜ he said, in the same tenor of whispers she had given him. ❛❛ i only ask that you look.   ❜❜

she had leaned close enough to him now to taste the aftermath of destruction, vice, nicotine and his sigh against the breadth of her skin. the wavelengths he inhibited sank against her like a wave crest to an unbroken shore. ❛❛ don't be fickle. to want is not to be a monster, and to be a monster is not to be evil.   ❜❜ he does not interrupt her motion; he relents the touch against her lip, but not her wrist, so that she may move the cigarette aside and press her mouth hot to the side of his cheek. ❛❛ if you were half as empty as you pretend to wish to be, i would hate you.   ❜❜

it would have been a chaste kiss, had she allowed herself, but she returns seeking his command once more. he makes to think of it, a low hum above tongue and teeth, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. his shoulders hitch softly, both hands falling back against the table in this gentle recline. he looks up at her most certainly, and lets the boney edge of his ankle knock against hers in a nudge.

         ❛❛ you may kiss me . . .   ❜❜ he starts, with a slow grin that was almost boyish, and the pause after his words drags itself as he appears thoughtful, whipping up a worthy riddle. ❛❛ only in places you find me most beautiful.   ❜❜

[daylighterarchived]

begging someone to write apollo already i've been starved.