#because apollo defends his worshippers

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

having Cassandra and Apollo thoughts...

thoughts about how she still calls Apollo "the god I love", even after the curse. how he gifted not just her, but her twin with the gift of prophecy. he loved both of them. they loved him.

I know people claim Athena avenged Cassandra's rape at the hands of Ajax but tbh that wasn't Athena avenging Cassandra - that was Athena punishing Ajax for violating the sanctity of her temple.

if Cassandra hadn't been inside Athena's temple, Ajax would have gotten away with it. and in a way, he did anyway.

and then when you think about Cassandra's death...the one to avenge her is the god she loves. Apollo. he cursed her, yes. but he still loved her too.

because think about it. apollo did not give a flying fuck about Agamemnon. if it was just Agamemnon who died, Apollo would have thrown a party.

but Cassandra was also killed. someone Apollo loves, and a favored priestess.

...remember what happened to Agamemnon when he insulted a priest of Apollo? a plague fell on the Achaeans.

and when Cassandra is killed...Apollo finds a way to make her murders pay the price. He gets Orestes to kill his own mother to avenge Cassandra.

frankly, I love them. I want more of them. This messy, complicated relationship with so much more meaning than "apollo got mad because she wouldn't sleep with him". Even with the cursory view I have, I can see there is so much more there.

Gods, I need to get my hands on those primary sources so I can obsessively read about them in full.

If anybody has recommendations on which primary sources have Cassandra and Apollo please tell me

I am begging you.

RAWRRAWRARWR I LOVE THEM👀

I also have thoughts about Apollo and Orestes but that's for another time

[littlesparklight]

so close to the end, so have this snippet.

"Hektor." Apollo tipped his cup and took a sip, gaze falling onto the gleaming nectar within. "Even if I hadn't known him before I came to glory in him for these past years, I always would have. But I've known him since he was a child - he and a companion of his were born on the same day as I call my own, the day my divine mother and sister brought me into the world when Eileithyia had finally been appeased and lured away from her mother's side. Polydamas I gave the clear-sightedness of knowing the paths and signs of birds and omens, for that was a fitting gift for the son of a priest of mine. Hektor I needed time for; before Kassandra and Helenos, the closest that family has brought out in augurs were Priam's oldest."

Pausing, Apollo cocked his head, glancing up to meet Hyacinthus' gaze. There was a curl of amusement in the corner of his.

"Perhaps I became too fond of listening to that child as he grew, for he was an ardent worshipper in the connection of our shared day of birth, and I could still find no fitting gift than my continued attention. He was earnest and gentle, someone I could see would be, and quickly became, a defender both of what I'd helped build and what was housed within. No great skill at the lyre or with poetry, and he preferred other weapons than the bow, but his company was… soothing."

"Soothing?"

Only part of this was what Hyacinthus had expected to hear. Even the parts he'd expected fitted ill to what he'd expected would be the whole those parts would fit into. He'd overheard Apollo talk about Admetos, about Kassandra, and Helenos. Knew how Apollo talked about him, both to him in their bed and to others. But there seemed to be no desire at all as he spoke of Hektor, though fondness was the beating heart found within each and every syllable.

"Soothing," Apollo agreed, taking another sip. Briefly, his expression was an open wound. "Not a son, not a lover, and I needed not be either of those things for or with him - I can see what my dearest sister find in companionship with her girls. He was a warrior, but a gentle one, and even before the war I'd begun to give him what I knew would serve him best, though it's a role I haven't exactly embodied until recently."

Apollo, not the poet or the hunter or even the plague bringer, but the rouser of armies.

Apollo of the bow, not in play or in search of sustenance, but the gleaming edge of bronze of an arrow nocked to find the heart of a man, a sword swung to kill, a spear thrown. Stormgod of the army, as the Trojans called him. In relief, in need, though not, as far as Hyacinthus had been able to tell, because of the hostility of Pallas Athena the sacker of cities, nor that of the more uncertain support of bronze Ares.

"So you gave him a helmet, with your own hands," Hyacinthus said slowly, thoughtful and understanding both, reaching out to stroke Apollo's knuckles of the hand he had clutched, and far tighter than it appeared by sight alone, around his kylix.

"I gave him a helmet," Apollo agreed, and threw back almost the whole contents of his cup in a single swallow.

[shanastoryteller]

Do you think you'll tackle Serene and Endymion in your Greek Myths? They are gorgeous btw. ;)

Not all titans were subdued. Not all were lost, or chained, or changed.

Some simply endured, too large and distant to be concerned with matters of titles and thrones.

Helios raged. Even bound within Tartarus, his sun burned brighter and angrier with each day, feeding off the hatred of the cursed titan. Seas turned to deserts as water was baked out of the earth. Apollo scooped up Helios’s chariot, bringing the sun to bear and returning a normal rhythm to the days and nights. Helios’s rage burns him even still, but the chariot has at least accepted its new master.

Artemis becomes associated with the moon because she is her brother’s other half in all things. But she constructs her chariot herself and it is used for races and to transport huntresses and little else.

The moon’s first goddess has never left. She has dragged the moon across the sky in her chariot of starlight uninterrupted for over a millennia.

The titan Selene did not join the fight of the new gods and the titans. She did not defend her brother nor did she attempt to save him.

But neither has she acknowledged the new pantheon. Zeus rules the sky and has demanded an audience with her many times, but she has never granted it. Zeus chases her chariot, but even riding lightning he can’t catch it when she unhooks the moon and no longer has its weight slowing her down.

Poseidon shakes his head and says, “Leave her be. I am the master of the sea and yet if I suddenly had to push forward every inch of the tide myself, I wouldn’t be left with much power to do anything else. All you’re doing is causing problems for the rest of us. Leave Selene to her work.”

Artemis agrees. If even Poseidon thinks bothering the moon titan is a bad idea, then they should listen. Usually he can’t be bothered to have opinions about anyone outside of his own wife, and even that’s rare.

Zeus gives up. Time passes, as it does, and no matter how the sun bucks and fights against her brother’s grip, sometimes going too quick and then too slow, the moon continues at the same steady pace.

Artemis grows stronger beneath moonlight. This must be because of her worshippers, or perhaps her brother’s. She never answers any prayers for tides or from people lost in the darkness, refusing every attempt to give her a power not her own, but her silence doesn’t seem to discourage anyone. Under the night sky her chariot moves impossibly fast and moonlight seems to always find her through the trees, which makes hunting difficult, but she doesn’t dare complain.

She does not want to earn Selene’s ire.

But despite her best efforts, Artemis does not manage to avoid her attention.

She is separated from her huntresses, spending the third night in a row tracking down a leopard that Demeter claims she drove mad on accident. Artemis doesn’t believe her, but the truth is irrelevant. This creature stalks and kills with Demeter’s blessing upon it, taking down all manor of creature and person.

Her temples have been filled with those begging for her aid. She’s blessed many spears, but her blessing doesn’t seem to be able to outweigh Demeter’s.

That irritates her enough that she’s seeing to this personally. She’s going to skin that damn leopard and wear it’s pelt to the next meeting of the pantheon.

One moment she’s skulking beneath a canopy of leaves, following several drops of blood she’s convinced will lead her to her prey, and the next the hair of her arms is standing on end and her heart is beating fast enough to make her light headed.

She swings around, spear raised, convinced that the damn leopard has found her first.

It’s not the leopard.

“You are the one they are praying too,” says a woman, her body soft with roundness and with the palest skin Artemis has seen on a living person. The extra skin beneath her chin gives her a perfectly circular face and the pockmarks across her face and body are a perfect echo of the moon’s many craters.

Selene tucks her ink black hair behind her ear and looks at her with equally dark eyes.

Artemis was born long after the war with the titans and she’s never ventured into Tartarus. She had assumed their presence felt much the same as other gods, that perhaps it was similar to the feeling of getting caught up in Hera’s rage.

It’s nothing like that.

Selene’s power is like a physical weight, as if they’re suddenly underwater and it’s surrounding them everywhere. Artemis lets it push her to her knees, bowing her head and trying to force her heart to calm. “Titan Selene. I swear that I did nothing to encourage them. I have not claimed any of your power.”

She should have done more than ignore them. She should have toppled temples and killed dissenters. She should have redirected their prayers. Anything to prevent what’s happening now.

“Would you like to?”

Artemis risks raising her head. Selene doesn’t sound angry and she doesn’t look it either. “I don’t understand.”

Selene gestures to the sky. “The moon is different from the sun. The sun pushes forward on its own and must be restrained and goaded in equal measure. Untethered, it will still rise and set. The moon must be pulled. It wants nothing more than to rest and unprompted it will stay motionless. If I step from my chariot for even a moment, the moon halts. It is unmoving now, as we speak.”

Artemis looks up. The moon always looks still to her. She wonders if the tides have noticed the difference.

“I have not been able to walk among earth for more than a few moments since I forged my chariot, lest all that follow the moon also go still and silent. They call you a moon goddess.”

“Please don’t make me take your place,” she says, not above begging. If the goddess traps her on her chariot, Artemis won’t have a choice.

Selene smiles, amusement making her eyes sparkle like distant stars. “You are young. You could not survive the chill or the weight for long. But perhaps you could endure for an hour or two.”

“I don’t understand,” she repeats, but some of her fear is starting to recede. Selene is not speaking like she’s going to strike her or curse her.

“There is a man,” she says, then pauses.

“Oh,” Artemis blinks, then, “Um, that’s not really my area. I could ask my brother?”

Selene laughs. “No, that is not necessary. I just need time. Will you steer my chariot each night so that I may walk across the earth unworried? Then you shall be a moon goddess in more than name.”

A titan, offering to share power for so little a reward? There has to be a catch. “Aren’t you worried that I’ll take too much?”

“I am not a goddess as you are a goddess,” she says, her derision light enough that Artemis can choose not to take offense to it. “My power neither grows nor dwindles based on the opinions of mortals. If you gain more, I do not have less.”

It shouldn’t be that surprising. All gods have some level of innate power. But not like this, not something that could alter the course of a planet, not this large and this terrifying.

Artemis decides then that Selene must be the most powerful of the titans. Anything else is too much to think about.

“I accept,” she says.

Selene reaches out, wrapping her thick fingers around her wrist, and then Artemis is somewhere else and she’s freezing.

“You get used to the cold,” Selene says, nudging her to the front of her chariot. The starlight glitters beneath her, driving home how her own silver chariot is nothing more than a pale imitation, no matter how it shines. “I drive the chariot forward with own will.”

Artemis’s works similarly. She focuses, and the chariot lurches forward, but then it jerks backwards. She glances behind, seeing the massive moon attached to the chariot with pulsing, heavy black chains. She tries again, slower, but no matter how much power she puts behind it, the moon won’t move forward a single inch.

“It’s alright,” Selene says. “I’ll help. You’ll grow stronger.”

She leans forward and spits out into space. Her saliva splits into two and then grows, until two massive, pearly white great wolves are standing at attention. Selene summons more of that strange black chain, looping it around the wolves’ chest and forming a hook to pull it through the front of the chariot before handing the ends to Artemis.

They’re heavy enough that she can feel the weight dragging her arms down. “What do I–”

Selene whistles and then wolves bound forward. For a moment they just strain against their chains, but then Artemis adds her own power to push the chariot, and then slowly, painfully, the moon is dragged forward.

“Good,” Selene says, the word settling into Artemis’s bones. “Stop when you must, but not before. I will feel the moon’s stillness and return.”

Her disappearance leaves the air surrounding Artemis even colder, but she refuses to shiver and instead urges the wolves faster with a snap of the celestial chains.

~

Endymion spends most of his nights on the tallest mountain within walking distance of the city, tracking the stars’ movements so that his fellow astronomers can check their equations against the realities of the heavens.

It takes him much longer than his colleagues and he blames it on an unsteady hand.

The truth is that his hands are perfectly steady. He has a one tablet of star positions and several rolls of linens with paintings of the moon. He’s not a very good artist, but something about it compels him, and so he spends hours each night determined to capture ever crevice and angle.

“Why are you always looking at me?”

He startles, dropping his brush, and turns on his heel to see who on earth is up here with him.

It’s a woman, with long black hair and a large body. There’s a puckered line along her cheek and he resists the urge to press his fingers against it, to follow it’s path until his fingers reach her lips. The soft pink of her plush mouth is the only bit of color on her.

Her question catches up with him and he sputters, “I’ve never seen you before!”

He would remember.

“You are always looking,” she insists, walking towards him. “What do you see?”

“I really haven’t seen you before,” he says, but doesn’t move away when she comes right up next to him. This close, he can see some faint color in her cheeks. He wonders if there are any other parts of her that tinge from pale to pink.

He feels heat rush to his own face at the thought. The bright moonlight that lets him see her so clearly is the same moonlight that’s going to give away his indecent thoughts.

But she doesn’t call him on it, instead pointing down at the crumpled linen. “Why?”

“Oh,” he flushes even more. “I don’t know. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? That’s reason enough.”

Endymion waits for her derision, the same that he’s received every time he’s gotten caught, but instead she curls her hands into the material of his shirt and says, “I agree,” and then she’s yanking him down to press her lips into his.

He tries to convince her to follow him home, but instead she disrobes right there and he can’t argue with that.

“Be here again tomorrow night,” she orders when the sweat is cooling on their bodies.

She likes to order him around. He doesn’t mind. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

“I will not answer questions that you already know the answer to,” she says, and then kisses him again before he can argue.

He means to walk down with her, to escort her home at least, but the moment he turns his back on her, she’s gone.

It takes him seven more nights with her for him to work up the courage to call her Selene.

She smiles and bites his shoulder, the imprints of her teeth a perfect circle.

gods and monsters series, part xxxiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here

[apollophanes]

Lore Olympus from the eyes of a Hellenist

Hey everyone! So I recently discovered some interesting insight that, in a way, changed my view of Lore Olympus as a Hellenic Polytheist. I thought I'd share this with you.

So, I did read Lore Olympus before I was a Hellenist and I honestly loved the webtoon and it was great to read. However, in April of 2022, I became a Hellenist. This made things more complicated.

Now right off the bat, I am a devotee of Apollon. So you can pretty much guess how I felt to see my God being portrayed as a cruel villain in LO, and how I felt to see the fanbase consistently insulting and disrespecting him.

It hurts that even other worshippers of Apollon have actually been mocked for worshipping him, simply because some people only know of him as if he is a made-up character from Lore Olympus.

While this is pretty bad, I've learned that the story itself is not as bad as I thought. Thanks to a few friends on Discord, who are ever knowledgeable, I have gained a new understanding that allows me to appreciate LO more, and I may convince myself to begin reading it again.

The Gods in Lore Olympus are portrayed as heavily flawed, almost like humans. Their realm itself is a reflection of human society. In this webtoon, Apollo does some horrible things and scars Persephone in the worst of ways. However, he is the favourite child and is beloved to all, so nobody would see him as the bad guy, right?

I think when looking at this, as well as other things, we realise something. Lore Olympus is less a story of the Gods, but is rather a story about humans, shared through a retelling of mythology. And it is a story that is quite important for us to hear.

Apollo in LO represents the golden child. The one who gets away with it all and can do everything he desires. The one who is so privileged that he can do any sort of harm, and people will still find a way to defend him. The one who sees himself as so important and grand, that he feels he can enforce his will and desires on everyone and is willing to do anything to get what he wants.

Of course, this Apollo is nothing like the true Apollon. Not even slightly close to our God. However, similar to actual myths, LO is not to be taken as a story of the Gods. Rather, it is a story that tells us something, and uses depictions of the Gods to explain it. We are not mythic literalists of course.

Now, even if we take a look at somebody like Ovid. His depictions and writings of the Gods can often be described as downright disrespectful, despite the fact that we was a Roman who lived during the time when the Gods were still widely worshipped. Ovid often depicted the Gods in pretty negative ways. If I recall correctly, I think I was told that he did this for political reasons too.

Alright so, let me not stretch this post too long. Lore Olympus, despite its problematic fanbase and certain historical and mythological inaccuracies, tells us an important story about human society that often goes unspoken. This webtoon does not reflect the Gods themselves, nor does it necessarily reflect mythology. It reflects human society as a whole, especially focusing on the darker parts of human lives.

I hope I managed to explain this as well as it was explained to me, and I hope that I could provide someone with insight.

Thank you all for reading this! ♡

[zerogate]

In AD 312, before a battle, an emperor named Constantine had looked into the sky and seen ‘a cross-shaped trophy formed from light’, and beneath it the message ‘CONQUER BY THIS.’ Not perhaps the most pacific of Christian sentiments, and later Christians (though notably not earlier ones) would be a touch embarrassed by it. The so-called ‘triumph of Christianity’ had begun. Christians would – not surprisingly – celebrate this moment for centuries. A few years prior to it, some Christians had experienced ferocious brutality and martyrdom at the hands of Roman officials. The vision of the flaming cross in the sky, and an emperor’s conversion to their cause, marked an almost unbelievable transformation in their fortunes.

However, the vision itself was less remarkable than some later Christians might have implied. For one thing, this was not the first heavenly revelation that Constantine had been offered. Because Constantine – Constantine ‘Equal-to-the-Apostles’, as he would later be known – had enjoyed another heavenly vision a little earlier. This other vision had also come upon Constantine while he was on the road – this time in Gaul – and once again it had promised Constantine military success.

The main difference was that, on this earlier occasion, the deity had not been the Christian God, but the very ‘pagan’ sun god Apollo. One day, as Constantine turned to visit a shrine, he had been greeted by a remarkable sight and had seen, as one writer put it, ‘Your Apollo, accompanied by Victory, offering you laurel wreaths’. A little later, in AD 313 – after the vision of the Christian God – coins were issued showing representations of the sun, and one even showing Constantine in profile, cheek-to-cheek with ‘his’ god Apollo. That vision was rather less lauded by later Christian chroniclers.

Sun gods and gods of light were popular among Roman emperors. When Christianity turned up, classical critics saw it as an unremarkable continuation of this; indeed there was so much sun imagery in early Christianity that one Christian author would feel the need to defend Christians from accusations that they were merely sun worshippers, what with their Sunday (in Latin, dies solis – the ‘day of the sun’) worship and their tendency to pray towards the east. Sometimes even Christians themselves seemed a trifle confused. A remarkable third-century mosaic discovered in the Vatican Necropolis shows Jesus represented as the sun god Helios, with that god’s typical rays coming from his head, riding on his chariot.

-- Catherine Nixey, Heresy

[nightwingshero]

🖊🖊🖊 + Callista 💜

Thank you, love!

🖊- Callista has such a hard time trusting Brasidas, no matter how much she wants to. Granted a lot of it is because people from the Cult of Kosmos whisper lies in her ear, but it’s also because Callista has never been in love before. Even as a worshipper for Aphrodite and understanding it’s important—and obviously with her being a hetaerae, she knows how to help others worship and feel love—she has never truly experienced it herself. She doesn’t really remember if her parents loved each other deeply but she knew of their deep love for her, and that’s a whole different thing entirely.

🖊- Brasidas tries to help train Callista to defend herself with a sword, and she loathes it. She doesn’t mind watching Brasidas train without his breastplate when they’re starting out and using sticks to spar, but she doesn’t care much for swords. She’ll wield a dagger, and she suggests that, but then she tries the bow. And shockingly enough, she’s almost a natural. That probably has something to do with Apollo blessing the bloodline she’s apart of, but she does enjoy it far more than swordplay—it’s far more graceful.

🖊- The leopard that is gifted to her from the Korinth leader was an abandoned cub right outside the city. A soldier was going to be rid of it but the city leader saw it and thought of his favorite hetaerae, and decided to save it for her instead. The cat is very protective of Callista and doesn’t like strangers much, but the leopard becomes fond of Brasidas quickly, making Callista scoff and make remarks about the feline liking him more than her.

[omniversalobservations]

The Council of Voices (2018)

The Council of Voices is a video series Nico has created where some of the voices he has used in his Let's Plays get together in a single universe and interact with each other.

Members * The Judge Voice (Lord Turkey Sandwich) - Head of the Council. He sits at the head of the table, and the meetings won't start without him. He also announces events and can ban voices from attending the meetings. Seems to be in a sexual relationship with Komaeda. * The Ace Voice (Sexy and Dangerous) * The Joshua Voice (Douchey Jesus) - A campy douchebag with godlike powers. Likes to mess with other people, especially butt-of-jokes like Morishige. * The Chiaki Voice (Everyone's Waifu) - A skilled gamer and quality waifu material, especially for Nico. A generally kind girl yet bold girl who wants everyone to cooperate and get along. Also a heavy sleeper; she was asleep for almost a full six months once. * The Phoenix Voice (Desk Slamming Extraordinaire) - A loud and hammy voice with a penchant on yelling at other people and slamming desks due to his job of origin. Had his face incinerated by Godot once. * The Seven Voice (Resident Badass) * The Togami Voice (Lead Asshole) - Resident non-cooperative asshole of the council. Thinks highly of himself and lowly of other people. Prone to making weird noises of disbelief when baffled. * The Asahina Voice (Mermaid Swamp!) - A very hyperactive tomboy who loves donuts more than anything. Bagels, on the other hand... * The Monokuma Voice (Despair Expert) - The oldest among them all. A despair-addict sadist with episodes of laughter. Frequently gets mistaken for King Mickey by Donald. * The Morishige Voice (Forever Running) - Resident punchline. The one Voice with lowest luck and most frequent injury among them all, and thus dreaded his times with Komaeda. Had his full potential unlocked by Michael Jackson (it wasn't much, though). * The Komaeda Voice (The One True Hope Bagel) - A worshipper of hope and devourer of bagels. His bullshit level is beyond human comprehension, despite claiming to be just a scum. A little bit unhinged. Contact with waffles may cause him to fall into despair. * The Hagakure Voice (Perpetual Disappointment) * The Von Karma Voice (Whipping Virtuoso) * The Monomi Voice (Useless Defender of Justice) * The Godot Voice (Coffee Whore) - A sexy middle-aged man with cool visor and addiction to black coffee (preferably with crack). Hates sugar and cream. Usually comes in during trippier moments. Taught Apollo Justice to use eye beams. * The Kazuichi Voice (Needs Somebody to Love) * The Seiko Voice (Motorboating Specialist) * The Mayuri Voice (Tutturu!) * The Gundham Voice (The Original Chuunibyou) * The Fukawa Voice (Part-Time Serial Killer) * The Security Chief (Voice Scrotal Punch!) * The Fujisaki Voice (Totally Not a Guy) * The Maya Voice (Yaoi-Loving Goober) * The Donald Voice (Avian Asshole)

Trivia * The Council meeting room undergoes several changes throughout the series. The table changes from white plastic to brown wood in the second Council meeting. From the third meeting onwards, the metallic head of Oliver becomes the council building. * Each video begins the unnamed narrator saying "Meanwhile, at the Council of Voices ... ", which is a reference to the Legion of Doom's headquarters in the old DC Superfriends cartoons. * Ironically, Slimey and Missile, the only two inactive members, both share the same voice. * Slimey is the only member of the Council not to have his own emblem. This is because he did not appear in the second meeting. * Monokuma and Monomi both accidentally speak their internal monologues out loud.

Source: NicoB Wiki