#deadalus

[owa-tagoo-siam]

[edalynn-ink]

my best friend (in love with a writer): He said we're just like Icarus- isnt that romantic?

me (aromantic, neurovidergent, ancient history special intrest): ...neither of you were raised in a impossible labrinth created by your father, Deadalus??

[emiett]

Buncha old OC sketches and dumb comics

[mvfm-25]

" Race on the earth! Fly in the sky! "

Saturn Fan Magazine n05 - May, 1995.

[transdragonlira]

Was it really Icarus's pride that brought his downfall?

Icarus's story is one that speaks to many people's imaginations, and how could it not? The imagery of one litterally reaching for the skies, and tragically falling down is a rather strong one. It's no wonder that so many renaissance paintings focus on this story.

And Icarus isn't alone in his pride, many Greek myths often have hubris (or hybris) as a main theme in their story. From Pheathon thinking he can ride the sun chariot to Tantalus thinking he can trick the gods into eating his own son. The Oddysey has hubris on both sides: the suitors harrass pelelope, thinking they have a right to marry her, and Oddyseus not thanking the gods after they helped him win the Trojan war. Compared to all of these stories, Icarus's pride kinda pales in comparison.

This brings me to Ovidius's telling on Icarus. It's the one I read in school, and is a rather interesting take on the story of Icarus. In his version, Icarus does not talk. (He tries to yell out for his dad while underwater, but fails.) In general, Icarus doesn't seem to be rather proud of anything. His main trait in this story seems to be that he is playful, and maybe even a bit mischievous. The way we see him described is in this snippet:

"puer Icarus una stabat et, ignarus sua se tractare pericla, ore renidenti modo, quas vaga moverat aura, captabat plumas, flavam modo pollice ceram mollibat lusuque suo mirabile patris impediebat opus"

(Ovidius Metamorphoses 8, line 195-200 Latin text sourced from: https://benbijnsdorp.nl/OvMet.VIII.html#VIII,183)

You can read a translation of the entire myth here, but basically what is said in these lines is that the boy Icarus is playing with feathers that were blown away by a breeze, and he softens the the wax used for the wings, playfully messing with his father's work.

The next time Icarus is described doing anything, he is taking delight in his flight ("gaudere volatu", line 223), and becomes reckless beause of that ("puer audaci coepit", line 223). Note that the website I linked translates 'audaci' as proud, which I disagree with, as 'audaci' means something more akin to 'brave' or 'couragous', but can be used deogatory as well, but then it is closer to 'reckless' or 'overdconfident' rather than proud. I wouldn't call it wrong outright as translation is complicated, but I definitly disagree with it. He gets tempted by his desire to fly higher. And then, the wax melts, and the feathers fall from his arms, leaving behind arms, useless for flying.

This doesn't really seem like someone who is particularly proud, does it? He's just a kid, experiencing something that is unique, freeing, and most importantly, fun. It's more akin to a kid playing with a new sled going down a hill that is too steep and hitting his head on a tree than someone who is actively displaying great pride and hubris. Icarus downfall was not caused directly by his pride, but by his mischief.

However, even though Icarus's downfall wasn't brought upon by his pride, pride still played a major factor in his demise. You see, the story doesn't end after Icarus dies. After Icarus dies, the story highlights a bird, laughing at the weeping ex-father. This bird is then revealed to be Perdix, a nephew and former student of Icarus's father, Daedalus. Perdix was an intelligent young man, and quickly became as good as an inventor as his uncle. In fact, soon he had invented the saw, and the compass (the drawing tool). Daedalus, his pride hurt, pushed him of a roof in an act of jealously. Saved by pallas, Perdix was turned into a bird. (Perdix is a family of partridges) Daedalus, however, had to flee from Athens to Crete, where king minos imprisoned him and his son, setting off the events of the story of Icarus.

In Odivius's telling of the story, Icarus does indeed die because of pride. It's just not his pride, and it is not really his story either. The story really puts its focus on Daedalus. He is the one who talks, he is the one who thinks he can overcome both gravity and gravity, and gets punished in a most ironic way. Yes, Daedalus survives, but does he really live? He is free from prison, yet will be forever cursed with the fact that he could not save his son, who is now trapped in the Tartarus forever. Icarus death is a direct cause of his hubrisistic actions.

So no, Icarus's fatal flaw isn't his pride, it is his playfulness and his mischief. But nonetheless, he died because of pride. (at least in Odivius's version of the story)

[nk-writing-official]

A new poem, about the ups and downs of mental health, posted to my website. Read "Flight" now!

nk-writing.com/poetry

[clolryotub]

I dunno if he was in love with the sun he was just tryna escape a shitty island with his dad

sorry man i can’t hang out i’m busy thinking about how icarus fell in love with the sun but didn’t survive it. yeah man it’s gonna be all day.

[fairytalesofthewind]

And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight (The Fall of Icarus)

A Sunlight by Hozier x Daedalus and Icarus by Ovid x Jegulus fic

Read on Ao3 

961 words

Regulus hated his life with his parents, even more now that his brother was gone. He longed to join Sirius in his self made exile. He couldn’t imagine a world without his love, but it had now been closed off by the seas between them. 

But even though his parents, the seas, land and waves obstructed his path to Sirius and happiness, he would find another way. The land and the seas may hinder him, but the skies lie open. His mother might control many arts of magic and with that also people, but she did not possess, nor did she control, the sky. 

Regulus knew he had to resort to unknown arts, magic not even familiar to his terrible mother. A type of magic that was hidden in the deepest part of their Black library. A magic that would allow him to change his nature. 

The freckles on his shoulder blades, of which the Black brothers always claimed looked like constellations, were replaced by feathers in rows. A warm and foreign magic placed small feathers connected by thread on his skin, before adding longer ones. Then wax joined in such a way that eventually beautiful wings were created. 

He was already standing near the window of his room. Isolated from his family, sent without food after the smallest of disagreements. He looked at the picture of Sirius, grinning at him from his dresser. He was unaware of Sirius’ peril on the other side of the seas dividing them, but aware of the urgency of his freedom. 

Regulus admired the miraculous work of this ancient magic, and moved his thumb over the yellow wax. He let out a beaming smile, he could finally be free. 

Regulus, however, was still a reasonable boy. He knew not to fly too low, for then the waves would weigh down the feathers. He knew not to fly too high, lest the sun burns the wax off his wings. He would find the golden middle course, which was already very familiar to him after years of mediating in the Ancient and Noble House of Black. 

He also knew not to get distracted by other destinations, but to fly straight to Sirius. He knew he had to follow the path the magic paved for him; a dark purple string of stars. 

As the magic seized the way, Regulus did not doubt his plan any longer. He threw himself out of the window with the unfamiliar wings, and with the fear of falling and failing, his cheeks grew wet. His hands trembled, but he blamed the strong winds. Underneath the night sky, he felt the stars kiss his cheeks, until the sun greeted him again hours later. 

At first, Regulus felt like a young bird that jumped unknowingly from a high nest into the even more unknown skies. But with the magic guiding him, he soon flew like an experienced albatross, master of soaring flight.  

He did not only see the night sky turn into a colourful and hopeful morning, but he saw the lives of those familiar with the sea. At night he saw many glowing jellyfish along the shore, before the fishermen took over in the early morning. He saw how the large whales avoided the big ships moving towards the docks. He did not only see the fishermen, but they also saw him. They believed him to be a god with his graceful flying. 

Regulus, now more confident, deserted the path the magic had paved for him. Instead, he noticed another strong magic. Not purple and guiding, but sparkling and desperate. He was attracted to the desire to follow it, but the closer he flew, the more tired he became. However tired, the less distance there was, the more warmth his body received. The desire for that safe warmth spread from his fingertips to his heart. 

The vicinity of the source of this wonderful magic overwhelmed him. After hours of flying he once again felt his entire body tremble. After the long journey, he felt the wax chipping away, the feathers following also. Feather after feather fell, until it was only his bare arms and a little bit of magic holding him in the air. It did nothing to halt him, especially not after seeing his destination. He shouted their names, first in glee, but then in fear. Until the sea right before them all took their names from him. 

Both men startled into action. They found feather after feather in the waves, but not Regulus. Until one of them looked back to the shore, where a body lay protected by a purple mist made of stars. 

It was not his brother, but another man, who reached Regulus first. In the most gentle way possible, James took Regulus in his arms. The stars danced around them in approval before they dissapeared into the sea’s gentle waves. 

James felt immense relief as the boy breathed softly against the hand holding his cheek, and he felt his own tears brush over his cheeks. He felt his hands trembling before Sirius joined the embrace. Three of them shared tears of relief. 

As Regulus met James’ eyes it was not his body that took flight, but his heart and soul. Like the stars just moments before, it was as if they danced around them. 

Regulus had been a rational, reasonable boy, and had not flown too close to the sea nor the sun, but he knew that he had flown to his own sunlight. He flew like a moth to James. 

His soul, like his heart, felt like it was filled by sunlight. A soul that was born in the cold and rain, was now surrounded by the love of his brother and the burning flame called James Potter.

[blahwithasideofblah]

We as a fandom don't talk enough about how Annabeth and Luke being some of the oldest campers means that everyone who was there when they arrived is likely dead.

[lightthewaybackhome]

The Siege, Parts 1-3 (S1: 19&20, S2: E1)

Part 1

I was trying to notice this time through when Sheppard starts seeming burdened, less ready to smile, more grizzled. I think in Letters from Pegasus when he has to sit there and listen to people be culled, and then makes his video for Sumner, the weight of what he's facing, what his people are facing, really settles down on his shoulders. He seems far grimmer in The Gift, and then here, he just ends Bob. Sheppard isn't messing around. He's no longer the jocular flyboy with smart remarks. He's a man defending and protecting his people, and he will do whatever it takes to make sure they're okay.

Part 2

Sheppard standing up for Elizabeth even at the risk of his own neck is great. I wonder, based on his past history, if he's ever had someone in charge that he could back up with so much trust? The trust they have in each other is gold. (I think this is why so many fans ship them. Their interactions showcase such a strong relationship because they trust each other and back each other and work together even if they don't agree, and they have the same goal: protect their home and their people.)

I love how Sheppard had the foresight to suggest they said a couple nukes. If only someone listened to him.

Sheppard is haunted, haunted, by the fact that he had to kill Sumner. The Colonel tells Sheppard he wishes he'd been there, implying that Sumner would be alive if he had been. He later tells Sheppard that he wishes Sheppard had been there for him, to end his life like he did Sumners. Sheppard is the man they want and need because he has the courage to do the hardest things.

And of course, the hardest thing is making the choice to sacrifice his life for his home and family. And the other hardest thing is Elizabeth telling him to go.

Part 3

S: Atlantis, this is Sheppard.

E: John?

S: What other Sheppards do you know?

*crying happy tears*

Rodney crumples with relief that Sheppard is okay. It's just perfect. And then Sheppard, from the Deadalus, has to stop Rodney from talking about Asgard tech. Lol.

Man, the gut-clench when Sheppard can't get through to Atlantis. Is home still there or not?

S: Well, I'm home.

E: *hugs him* Yes, you are.

😭😭😭

Sheppard's courage shines through as he suggests they take the fight to the Wraith.

S: I've learned to trust Rodney about these things.

🖤🖤🖤

Sheppard's plan A didn't work, but he has another plan. While the team works on that, he goes to help Ford. I think Ford is in a lose/lose situation because they don't have the know-how or the time to really help him, and he's not helping himself.

Sheppard trusts his team to carry out his plan so he can go after Ford. Everything works, but Sheppard looks like they lost.

[pastelclownkitty]

yeah okay

Tag that oc who is traumatized and evil but u love them

.

[sl33py-g4m3r]

The Megami Tensei II Experience

marsh video spam incoming~~

I genuinely hope that I haven’t posted these twice~~

not sorry~~~ love this guys essays

unrelated but I kinda regret cutting my hair as short as I did cause it was essentially Akira’s haircut, lol. Isn’t marsh’s avatar Akira from SMT If ?

retro megaten lets go~~~

[daffydalcop]

Interview With The Vampire As Greek Mythology

Louis and Lestat as Odysseus and Penelope

Marius and Armand as Zeus and Ganymede

Louis and Claudia as Deadalus and Icarus

Lestat and Claudia as Hera and Hephaestus

[hiveswap]

Can you believe it's been over a year and a month since i was this ill about them

On Achilles, Partoclus, and cosmic phenomena

[itsokbbygrl]

If The Wind Turns

moodboard by the incredibly talented Freya @almostfoxglove

🪽 Fallen Angel!Joel Miller x Fem Reader

🪽 Rating: T, there’s some language, no other warnings apply

🪽 Summary: You have me floatin' like a feather on the sea while you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath. Once I had wondered what was holdin' up the ground, but I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down. Leave it now, I am sky bound. If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me. We’ll float away, but if we fall, I only pray, don’t fall away from me.

🪽AN: Freya made this moodboard weeks ago and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about it and Icarian (Carrion) by Hozier. The brainrot was too much and eventually this got written. It’s just a Drabble really, hardly anything to shake a fist at, but my dear friends @luxurychristmaspudding and @almostfoxglove gave really positive feedback so I decided to share it. It’s not edited, mistakes are my own, etc etc etc.

☁️•🪽•🪽•🪽•🪽•☀️•☀️•☀️•🪽•🪽•🪽•🪽•☁️

“Darlin’ you don’t understand,” he pleads. “You shouldn’t be attaching yourself to all this. You should—”

“Joel,” you cut him off succinctly, drawing his gaze back to your own. You use his momentary pause to step into his space, eyes confidently locked on his. His head tips down as you stand toe to toe. You lift your fingers to his chin, guiding him until he’s once again your equal. You hold him there. Your hands frame his cheeks, his scratchy beard lightly tickling your palms, thumbs stroking softly over his cheekbones. You feel him melt, if only a little, in the only way he’ll let himself have vulnerability—in microdoses.

“You know the myth about how the world is held up on the back of a turtle,” you start.

Joel huffs a half snort and the left corner of his mouth quirks up the smallest bit. You might not even catch it if you weren’t so attuned to every minute contraction and release of every sinewy strand of muscle that makes this being in front of you. But you were, and so you see, and you know he knows, and you’re hoping he’ll humor you. “Heard a thing or two about it, yeah.” And your heart nearly ruptures forth from its cradle in your chest.

“So this myth is recursive in a bunch of different cultures right? And it varies slightly. But my favorite is the problem of infinite regress, turtles all the way down,” you continue. “And that got me thinking about flying, leaving the world and seeing once and for all the turtles and their infinity, and that got me thinking about Icarus and Deadalus,” you lock onto his gaze, eyes true as they’ve ever been, wanting him to hear you as you say, “about how painful it must’ve been for a father to watch his son fall like that. And for the son—to have no recourse, no reconciliation, to simply be gone, forever, over one misstep.” It’s gone so quiet you wonder if his god has stopped time to listen. You hope he has. You have some choice words for him.

“Joel,” you soften your tone, “there is nothing wrong with you. You made a mistake. Isn’t it even written in the holy book or whatever that no being but god himself is perfect anyway? How could you be held to that standard?” You’re imploring him to believe you, branding it into his flesh with warm caresses of your thumbs over his cheekbones, under his eyes, over his brow. You lean your forehead to his and stay there, simply holding him and breathing in his calming scent.

Your next words are soft and unpracticed, “I’ve never been forcefully exiled from my home by a man who professed to be my father, I won’t ever know exactly the pain you feel. But Joel, I know the weight of shame that you carry and I’m asking you to let me help you carry it.”

He shudders a breath, just a small trembling thing, and then his lips are on yours, and this time, it’s you who melts, who falls into the gravity of him. You’ve never felt such a freedom or such a tethering. Love, you find, is full of contradictions. You swim in the ocean of his mouth, crest the wave of his tongue with your own. Push and pull and crash, again and again and again.

“For the record,” you get out from beneath the current you’ve created, “if you asked me,” you leave a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw, “in my Icarian fall from grace,” a kiss to his chin, “I have a sneaking suspicion I’d find you there, down and down, forever, holding up the ground I used to walk on.” Joel’s jaw ticks, his eyes glassy and deep, and you pray to whatever god might be listening that you never forget this moment. “It was always you, it always will be you. Joel, whatever you’ve done, you’re not irredeemable, and I’ll spend the rest of my godforsaken life showing you that, I fucking mean it.”

He lets your words float on the air. Then he sighs. “Ok then,” he relents. Joel never understood holy wars until he met you. Now he wouldn’t hesitate to battle against all of the angels above and demons below if it meant protecting you. Maybe that would be enough to save his soul—laying down what’s left of his earthly life in defense of the closest thing to true divinity he’s ever known.

[librarycards]

hello everyone, and welcome to my Q3 book recs of 2024! this has been a *huge* book summer for me, not least because i've gotten to visit and chat with so many independent booksellers. after all, my debut novel, Failure to Comply (GR) (Storygraph), is now available for order, and I've been running around doing events and other publicity things to celebrate! While I'm obviously not going to recommend my own book in my top 9, if you enjoy experimental speculative fiction, Mad/trans cyborgs, and evil dykes + body horror, consider checking it out.

anyway! here are my favorites from this summer. it was, as always, a tough choice, but i hope you find something you like!

Gayl Jones, White Rat

Lee Mandelo, The Woods All Black

Michael Faber, Under the Skin

Randa Jarrar, A Map of Home

Jeanne Thornton, Summer Fun

Evan Dahm, The Last Delivery

Tommy Pico, IRL

Bhanu Kapil, The Vertical Integration of Strangers

Camila Sosa Vilada, tr. Kit Maude, Bad Girls

thanks, as always, for reading + enjoying these! i enjoy sharing them with you. if you want to see more regular recs from me for a variety of media, consider subscribing to my newsletter – I share short poetry/prose; audio; books; and more every month.

tagging people below, but no pressure to do it if you're tagged, and those not tagged are enthusiastically encouraged to do this + tag me in it (whether we're mutuals or not!!)

@campgender @capricornpropaganda @fluoresensitive @closet-keys @fatehbaz @lunarianbeams

@felgueirosa @materialisnt @osmanthusoolong @punkkwix @yesthattoo

@snoopyisbisexual @stephen-deadalus @metapianycist @podcastlesbian @metamatar

@lesbianlizzybennet @flameswallower @slowtides @sawasawako @growtiredofpublicvulnerability

@abstractlesbian @grimesapologist @aldieb @bioethicists @heavenlyyshecomes @trans-axolotl & anyone else who wants to!!