#mythology is so much fun
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that-disabled-princess · 1 year ago
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I learned something fascinating this evening.
In Egyptian mythology, Apep, the god of chaos and darkness who could take the form of a snake, devours the sun god, Ra. Apep's Greek equivalent is Erebus/Erebos, with whom Aaravos shares a similar name, and who is referenced on Aaravos' official TDP wiki page.
And what did Aaravos, the chaotic elf with a snake-esque familiar who gifted dark magic to humanity, do? Swallowed the sun queen.
I love mythology.
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aroaceleovaldez · 9 months ago
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Nico referring to his mom as "Mama" implies he most likely at least used to refer to Hades as "Papa" and i 100% headcanon he still does but mostly in the manner of him having the entire Underworld wrapped around his finger for being the baby of the family
#pjo#riordanverse#nico di angelo#headcanon#my art#nico flexing youngest child privilages by pulling out the most pitiful expression he can manage#anyways i find it fun to explore character word choices#cause yknow no two characters are going to select their words the same way#or even necessarily think about it to the same degree#i like to think Nico thinks about his word choice a lot#so of course every time he uses ''papa'' he fully knows he's pulling the Baby Of The Family card#Hades definitely knows this too but falls for it every time anyways#cause Nico hasnt called him ''papa'' regularly since getting his memory wiped - just detached ''father'' or at best ''dad''#so it just reminds Hades of How Much He Just Wants His Children To Be Happy Like The Old Days#and how much poor Nico has been through and he's just the baby of the family and-#cue Nico smugly staring at the camera cause he knows how much power he holds#also i say Nico is Hades' only son cause mythologically even when Zagreus *is* Hades' son (rarely) he's. dead.#a major part of Zagreus' mythology is that he died#and im p sure every other deity said to be Hades' children are all goddesses and also are like 50% of the time not his#theres also only like 3 of them. and as far as we know in riordanverse canon one of them is implied to not be his daughter#so Nico is Hades' only son and also youngest in the family (cause Hazel is older by a month chronologically or 1 year biologically)#(and everybody else is a deity if children of hades at all)
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tagzpite · 3 months ago
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Right now you're mine, all mine
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nikoisme · 5 months ago
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he got colored
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artiquar · 2 months ago
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my dear penelope, we've twenty lost years of love to make up for.
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gingermintpepper · 2 months ago
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“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 
It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 
Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 
He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 
Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  
Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 
He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.
“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  
There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 
Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 
A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 
Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -
“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 
He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 
“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 
Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  
There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 
“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 
(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 
Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”
Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 
A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 
Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”
Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)
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wish-i-were-heather · 2 months ago
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"icarus imagined himself to be the stick of a candle, the wings to be the wick, and the sun to be the flame. for a small time, the wick would burn. the candle would be alight, shining brilliantly, lighting up the space for as long as the wick could last. until inevitably, the wick reached its end, the candle burning out. until the wick finally died, reaching the stick of the candle and engulfing that, too, in flames."
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midnottart · 18 days ago
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Happy Birthday, dear @hechizero-emplumado 🥳 thank you for your friendship, you're an amazing person and it's so much fun talking fandoms with you! ✨
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red-moon-at-night · 19 days ago
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Paris and Helen clothes swap!
The outfits and poses are inspired by several different greek pottery pieces that feature them together <3
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stressedbeetle · 2 months ago
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Kaos was honestly such a fun show to watch it made me completely forget all of the inaccuracies
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soupmanspeaks · 5 months ago
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Uhhh something Something headcanon the pizzaplex staff are given little trivia note cards about the company and the 80's in general to recite to guests as they tour the place or something, but the thing about these note cards is that they're full of the most inaccurate info ever, and freddy'll overhear them sometimes and literally have to stop in his tracks to compute what was just said like
Staff: "And here we have Glamrock beauty salon! Where you can get personally styled by Roxy herself! Fun fact, shoulder pads were all the rage in the 80s! Everyone was wearing them, along with their bright neon t-shirts and legwarmers!"
Glamfred: "......I remember we wore more t-shirts and jeans, actually"
Staff: "......?"
GF: "uH.....I mean--I am sure there were some shoulder pads..!"
#fnaf#five nights at freddy’s#glammike#glamrock freddy#michael afton#silly salvaged au#i spent way too long on this post no joke#i was frantically googling “80s misconceptions”#because for what its worth that era is more mythologized than we think it is#like the pizzaplex itself is the glamorized rose tinted glasses version of the 80s#i just really like the juxtopositon lol#the more realer feeling of the period that the fnaf 4 minigames had vs SB's shiny corporate kingdom lol#ajfjisrj anyways i really like the image of freddy in a meet n greet or something#and then he'll overhear one of those fun “facts” and right as he is in the middle of saying something#he goes “Hello Superstar! are you ready for your birthdaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-”#poor mike he heard misinfo being spread and he got controlled shocked for it 😔😔😔#LMAO WAIT freddy probably sends an anonymous email to the higher ups because of this#Gregory's like “does it really matter THAT much freddy??”#“gregory it is a matter of proper information being spread”#“that and also they called me 'promising heir of the fazbear fortune' when recounting history”#“i will let them know i was not promising in anyway”#“also did you hear they called my brother completley different names!”#(the cards just say “william afton's second son” so the staff improvise a bit lol)#(in this au his name is Evan (basic i know))#“gregory one staff said his name was Chris and another said his name was Norman--where did they even get Garrett from???”
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h-didanart · 3 months ago
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Pollux is a fighter according to Greek mythology, specifically a boxer
Pollux is also immortal according to that mythology
Castor and Pollux seem to have been protectors of sailors during their travels and fighters during battles
Do with this information what you will my dear LAES fans
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aphemera · 2 months ago
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throughout the musical athena sees just how deeply odysseus loves and cares for his family and in the wisdom saga sees telemachus feel the same way for him, a man who was gone before he could know even him
she sees a father and son who would do anything for eachother yet when it comes to her own father it couldn’t be more different
zeus sets up game making her fight to save her friend and when she wins he can’t stand it and strikes her down
she’s so injured that her own immortal siblings ask if she’s even alive
like imagine the hurt and betrayal she would’ve felt especially after seeing how much mortals love their families in the short lives they have while her own father who’s known her for centuries could care less
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nikoisme · 4 months ago
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Hi @dootznbootz i missed her so here we are
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hauntingjasper · 3 months ago
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Blind as a bat
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#i need to think about more hcs for these two#I think Marshall sometimes joins Fionna on her adventures if he's interested enough (which is rare)#or if he wants to tick Gumball off by showing up without warning like 'heeeey bestie what are we doing today *smiles*'#because Gumball is usually the one who sends Fionna to do stuff outside the kingdom#i think adventuring/traveling in general is (as we say here in Brazil) always either 8 or 80 for Marshall#because he's lived so long and probably seen more than half of Ooo atp so he just doesn't care much about going out there anymore#he still likes hanging out with friends and going to concerts but travel to the other side of the island?#to see an event he's probably seen happen many times before over the centuries? with the conditions he has as a vampire?#and leave his cat alone??? nah he'd rather sleep all day#Fionna likes traveling. I think she'd be more interested on the fun and active parts of the trip like sports and festivals ig?#and also the stories. give her all the monster legends and mythologies and romances she loves them#I think Marshall would know places in Ooo that are known to be hella dangerous so when Fionna says she's going there he just goes#“oh? i'm going with you then I wanna see how long you survive there ����️”#She usually does well without his help but he had to save her ass once or twice already#fionna and cake#adventure time fionna and cake#fionna and cake fanart#fionna campbell#marshall lee#adventure time fionna#fionna the human#adventure time marshall lee#adventure time#adventure time fanart
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gingermintpepper · 2 months ago
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Recently, I've been thinking a lot about lineage curses.
The line of Ouranos is infested with curses - generational malice that's sunk its claws in deep and cannot be cleansed. I think of it as a curse of love - an affliction that is something like a paternal equivalent to postpartum depression - the men of the line of Ouranos were, for a time, unable to bond with their children. Ouranos himself adored his wife but despised his children from the moment they were born. It was disgust perhaps. Or maybe plain fear. Or maybe there was no reason but a deep wrongfulness that he could only attribute to the birth of his new children. But he hated them and his hatred bred hatred. His hatred bred Kronos.
Kronos oddly, is the spitting image of his father. Why he would so exactly resemble the father he despised, who knows, but he married a goddess of the earth - the mirror image of his mother - he loved his wife and his people - the mirror image of his father - and, like that father, all his kindness and good sense died the moment he became a father. What was it about Ouranos' blood that made Kronos mimic even the method of torment? To lock his children away in the dark, cold emptiness of his stomach. To feed them the same doubts and fears that his brothers were fed as babes? What anguish paranoia must be to turn the Golden King into a shaking, spitting beast.
That, then, is the fate written deep in the blood of Zeus. Great king, destined to be overthrown by his children. Great king, doomed to live in fear of the son that would rend him limb from limb and scatter his sex to the ravens. Ah, but what is Zeus if not an enigma. That strange child fed on goat's manna and raised by his mother - is that the difference? That Zeus alone was showered in the hopes and dreams of his mother - that his father was nothing but a target to kill, an opponent for him to conquer. Is that why his curse of love mutated not to encompass his children but his lovers? What other name is there for he who eats his wife to gain her wisdom? What other name but cursed is he who pursues the stars until she becomes dead ground? And when he has a child who is his spitting image, dark eyed and blood-heeled, what can he do but hate?
(Zeus, at least, battles the demons in his blood on his own. Maybe that is the mother in him. Maybe that is why he swallowed Metis while she was still rich with their child. Maybe swallowing a mother restored that missing paternal hole all his father's line had simply been made without. Maybe that's what he tells himself when he looks upon his children and knows he's made things different for them, no matter how much he dreams of keeping them locked in a cool, dark place, pretty in display cases just for him. Maybe that's just his father in him.)
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