#apollo xii

[retropopcult]

The Apollo 12 crew of Pete Conrad, Dick Conrad & Alan Bean are all smiles shortly before their mission in November 1969. Their lunar landing was the second in the Apollo Program. Conrad and Bean were the third and fourth astronauts on the moon and spent 31 hours on the lunar surface while Command Module Pilot Richard Gordon orbited above.

A major difference from Apollo 11 were that hammocks were installed in the Lunar Module so Bean & Conrad could have a more comfortable stay with the spacecraft than Neil Armstrong & Buzz Aldrin had the previous summer.

The Apollo 12 trio were widely seen as the most tightknit and fun loving Apollo crew (for a great depiction of their mission, watch the From the Earth to the Moon episode, "That's All There Is").

[titanicnerd-blog]

Those who have travelled to the moon:

Neil Armstrong

Edwin Aldrin Jr.

Michael Collins

Pete Conrad

Dick Gordon

Alan Bean

Jim Lovell

John Swigert

Fred Haise

Alan Shepherd

Stuart Roosa

Edgar Mitchell

Dave Scott

Al Worden

Jim Irwin

John Young

Ken Mattingly

Charlie Duke

Gene Cernan

Ron Evans

Jack Schmitt

Soon, there will be more names on this list: Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Hammock Koch, Jeremy Hansen

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else. 

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored. 

Enter: The creation of myth.

-OR-

the dark sider/mandalorian au no one knew they needed

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Graphic depictions of violence; Canon divergence; Themes of redemption; And forgiveness; THE RAZOR CREST LIVES BITCH!!!!; Soft!Dom Din Djarin; Protective behavior; Possessive behavior; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Breeding kink; Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Spanking; Overstimulation; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin; Angst with a happy ending; Hurt/comfort; Fluff and smut; Inappropriate Use Of the Force; Discussions of infertility; References to Greek Mythology; Past abuse; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Violence as a metaphor for desire and intimacy; Other additional tags to be added 

Read on AO3

PART I :

Chapter I: Apollo

Chapter II: Prometheus

Chapter III: Psyche

Chapter IV: Aite

Chapter V: Morpheus

Chapter VI : Sisyphus

Chapter VII : Hysminai

Chapter VIII : Melpomene

Interlude : Tartarus

PART II :

Chapter IX : Persephone

Chapter X: Geryon

Chapter XI: Lethe

Chapter XII: Venus

Chapter XIII: Eros

Chapter XIV: Dionysus

Chapter XV:

⚡️Din and Sithy art by the wonderfully talented @dirtysouvenir

⚡️Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing!

[tylermileslockett]

All right folks, Argonautica is a go! woohoo! 

I wanted to start with a map just so i could wrap my head around the journey and get familiar with the major locations and events in chronological order. I'll do another image showing the major heroes, and then we can dive into individual scene/event illustrations. Ill probably do around 12 -14 images for this myth, so I'll have to be picky about which scenes i illustrate.

Argonautica 1: Overview and Map Route

I.) Iolcis; The crew departs from Jason’s hometown. II.) Lemnos; the island tribe of women who murdered their husbands. III.) Doliones battle: a mistaken battle results in the death of King Cyzicus IV.)  Chios: Hylas abducted by water nymph, Heracles left behind V.) Phineus, a blind seer, is rescued by the Argonauts from Harpies. VI.) The Symplegades (Clashing rocks) a treacherous passage. VII.)  Stymphalian birds: the heroes drive away the man -eating birds VIII.) Colchis; Jason overcomes three trials of King Aeetes to obtain Golden Fleece with the assistance of the sorceress Medea. IX.) Brygean Islands: Medea and Jason trick and murder her brother Apsyrtus to escape Colchian pursuit. X.) Circes Island; The goddess purifies Jason and Medea of blood-guilt. XI.)  The Sirens; Orpheus drowns out the sirens calls with his own song. XII.)   Scylla and Charybdis; Thetis and Nereids guide Argo through XIII.) Drepane Island: escaping 2nd Colchian fleet, Jason and Medea wed. XIV.) Syrtes:  three Nymphs instruct crew to carry Argo on their backs for 12 days XV.)  Garden of the Hesperides; XVI.) Lake Triton: Triton, Son of Poseidon, instructs crew on passage to sea XVII.) Crete: Medea uses her magic to defeat Talos, a giant bronze warrior XVIII.) Aegina Island: the journey ove r, they perform rites for Apollo

Do you like this art? would you like to own a book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Then please support my kickstarter for my book "lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in OCTOBER.

click on my LINKTREE for the Kickstarter link to "notify me when the project goes live." In my linktree is also a link to join my free email newsletter for book updates in the coming months, with free Hi res art and a 25% etsy print shop discount! 

[alex99achapterthree]

Apollo XII commander Pete Conrad stands beside the Surveyor III lander on the moon on November 20, 1969.

Surveyor III landed on the moon on April 20, 1967. It used a TV camera to beam images back to Earth and dug trenches with a scoop on the end of a robot arm.

Conrad and LM Pilot Alan Bean performed a pinpoint touch-down, landing their LM Intrepid within easy walking distance of Surveyor. They examined the spacecraft to see how it had stood up to 2 1/2 years on the lunar surface, and brought the TV camera (the cylinder beside Conrad's shoulder) and the sampling scoop (on the arm in front of him) back to earth for study.

[mintgalaxia]

"Before answering that," said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, "I should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not hate him."

"With horror!" she said. "That is the terrible thing about it. He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He accuses himself, he curses himself, he implores my forgiveness!...He confesses his cheat. He loves me! He lays at my feet an immense and tragic love. ... He has carried me off for love!...He has imprisoned me with him, underground, for love!...But he respects me: he crawls, he moans, he weeps!...And, when I stood up, Raoul, and told him that I could only despise him if he did not, then and there, give me my liberty...he offered it...he offered to show me the mysterious road...Only...only he rose too...and I was made to remember that, though he was not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius, he remained the voice...for he sang. And I listened ... and stayed!...That night, we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep."

~ The Phantom of the Opera, Chapter XII Apollo's Lyre by Gaston Leroux

[laurellerual]

The mythological deification of having Brienne, Daenerys, and Arya being strongly connected to the sun/moon in their connected/paralleling narratives.

A Storm of Swords - Arya XII / A Game of Thrones - Arya II

A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

A Feast for Crows - Brienne II

Eeeee, this is not a question, it is not even a complete sentence ... so I hope I interpreted it correctly.

There are many other points where these characters are associated with the Sun and the Moon. Here I list of some random considerations that I made.

Brienne

First of all the Sun and the Moon are the symbols on the sigil of Tarth. These two symbols in different mythologies are associated with a dualism present in different ancient civilizations: the masculine (for example Apollo) and the feminine (for example Artemis) as opposites.

If we accept this interpretation the sigil can be seen as a representation of an internal conflict of the character. Brienne lives in a world where gender roles are separated and distinct, but she has no place in this extreme binarism. She is rejected from both categories because she is deemed too ugly to really be a lady, but also too maiden to really be a knight.

Dany

She is strongly associated with the Moon especially in the first half of the story. The moon is associated with femininity because of her cycle. In particular, Asoiaf contains the myth of the egg-moon which hatches to give birth to dragons. Dany is obviously the mother of dragons.

Maybe it has nothing to do with it, but the scene of Dany devouring a heart and "giving birth to a dragon" reminds me of a myth in which Loki devours a heart and gives birth to all the witches in the world.

Interestingly, in the beginning Drogo is the Sun, but Drogo dies, Dany grows, establishes herself as the dragon and the conqueror, and the fire motif becomes more and more prominent in her story.

Arya

I would say that in her chapters the Moon is much more present than the Sun. This is also reinforced by her animals. First of all the wolf who howls at the moon and hunts in the night (Artemis goddess associated with the moon and hunting). Queen Nymeria's symbol is the Sun, Nymeria is also the real name of the "night wolf".

Another animal associated with the Moon and Arya is the cat, an animal associated with witches. The trio moon-dreams-cats reminds me of Lovecraft's The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath which I'm sure Martin will have read. In this story, cats are creatures that can safely travel between our world and the dream world on the Moon.

Ok for now these are some ideas that came to me on these topics, does anyone have anything else to add?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Daughter of Olympus (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I hate the Tumblr posts now they're so hard to handle and stupid -Danny Words: 2,632 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter / Next Chapter Listen to: 'Ain't No Rest For The Wicked' -by Cage The Elephant

XII. You Killed My T-Rex, Prepare to Die

"AHHGGGH!"

"Holy—!" Ara falls over, scrambles to her feet, and pulls out Almighty. "What's wrong?!"

"Coach is awake," Leo announces casually.

"Die!" Hedge smashes everything in his path.

"Coach!" Jason shouts angrily.

Ara snatches the club out of the satyr's hand as he runs past her. "Enough!"

Hedge stops and turns back, his eyes find Jason first. "You're the new kid, Jason. Valdez, McLean," When he looks at Ara, his gaze brightens. "Jackson! What's going on? We were at the Grand Canyon and the Anemoi thuellai were attacking, we could've used your help—" He spots the cage with the storm spirits. "DIE!"

The satyr charges again, but Leo stops him. "Whoa, Coach! It's okay. They're locked up. We just sprang you from the other cage."

"Cage? Cage? What's going on? Just because I'm a satyr doesn't mean I can't have you doing plank push-ups, Valdez!"

Ara shoves the club into his hands. "Sit down. Listen."

Jason approaches. "Coach—Gleeson—um, whatever you want us to call you. You saved us at the Grand Canyon. You were totally brave."

"Of course I was!"

"The extraction team came and took us to Camp Half-Blood. We thought we'd lost you. Then we got word the storm spirits had taken you back to their—um, operator, Medea."

"That witch! Wait—that's impossible. She's mortal. She's dead."

"Yeah, well," Leo shrugs, "somehow she got not dead anymore."

"So!" Hedge continues happily. "You were sent on a dangerous quest to rescue me. Excellent!"

"Um... Actually, Glee—can I still call you Coach Hedge? Gleeson seems wrong. We're on a quest for something else. We kind of found you by accident," Piper explains.

"Oh." The satyr is mildly disappointed but carries on with the same energy as before. "But there are no accidents! Not on quests. This was meant to happen! So, this is the witch's lair, eh? Why is everything gold?"

"Gold?"

When they look around, Ara feels like she's in Apollo's private chambers. Everything is made out of gold... And the statues are definitely people, which sets off alarms in her brain.

"Nice," Leo whistles lowly. "No wonder they got so much security."

"This isn't—This isn't Medea's place, Coach. It's some rich person's mansion in Omaha. We got away from Medea and crash-landed here."

"We've got to get out of here," Ara says anxiously.

An old man steps into the room looking like he just woke up. Halfway through brushing his teeth he stops and looks at them.  "Son? Lit, come out here, please. There are strange people in the throne room." 

Before they can stop him, Hedge gets up. "DIE!" 

"Whoa, Coach!" Jason steps in to stop him, seriously annoyed. "Bring it down a few notches." 

A young man wearing pajamas barges in, holding a long and sharp sword. He has curly dark hair, an athletic body that's covered in scars, and cold calculating blue eyes. 

"Holy Ares..." Ara breathes, torn between admiration and alarm. "Alright, stop staring," she tells herself, but then she doesn't follow her own orders. She never does.

Lit glances between her and Jason and decides to attack Jason first. Ara takes full offense. "Hold on!" Piper raises her hands in surrender. "This is just a misunderstanding! Everything's fine."

"I'll get them! Don't worry!"

"Coach, they may be friendly," Jason also raises his hands. "Besides, we're trespassing in their house."

"Thank you!" The old man exclaims. "Now, who are you, and why are you here?"

"Let's all put our weapons down," Piper says. "Coach, Ara, you first."

The girl obeys without putting up a fight, Lit's eyes remain on her for a brief moment before moving away. "Just one thwack?" Hedge offers.

"No."

"What about a compromise? I'll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I'll apologize."

"Hedge, put that club down or I'll shred it to splinters," Ara says sternly.

"You're no fun," he mutters. "Way better when you used to blast washing machines..."

"When she what?" Leo asks in amusement.

Ara knows she's not as fun as before, but she's got responsibilities now, she can't go around pretending things aren't a big deal. "Not the time, Hedge," she mumbles.

"You speak well, girl," Lit says to Piper. "Fortunately for your friends, or I would've run them through."

"Appreciate it," Leo replies. "I try not to get run through before lunchtime."

"Well, since you're here. Please, sit down," the man moves, lightly kicking the smashed tea set out of his way.

"Your Majesty—"

"No, no, it's fine, Lit. New land, new customs. They may sit in my presence. After all, they've seen me in my nightclothes. No sense observing formalities."

"You're King Midas," Ara blurts out.

The man smiles at her, but there is something creepy about it. "You're Ara Jackson. Smaller in person."

"Midas?" Hedge asks. "Impossible, he died."

King Midas takes the throne and Lit remains standing behind him, occasionally looking at Piper and trying to make his muscles pop out. He does the same whenever he glances at Ara, but when it's directed at her, it looks like a threat.

Piper clears her throat. "What our satyr friend means, your Majesty, is that you're the second mortal we've met who should be—sorry—dead. King Midas lived thousands of years ago."

"Interesting. You know, I think I was a bit dead for a while. It's strange. Seems like a dream, doesn't it, Lit?" 

"A very long dream, Your Majesty."

"And yet, now we're here. I'm enjoying myself very much. I like being alive better."

"But how? You didn't happen to have a... patron?"

"Does it matter, my dear?"

"It matters if you're here to cause trouble," Ara replies.

"We could kill them again," Hedge proposes eagerly.

"Coach, not helping," Jason intervenes. "Why don't you go outside and stand guard?" 

Leo clears his throat. "Is that safe? They've got some serious security."

"Oh, yes! Sorry about that. But it's lovely stuff, isn't it? Amazing what gold can still buy. Such excellent toys you have in this country!" He grabs a remote and presses a passcode. "There. Safe to go out now."

"Fine. But if you need me..." Hedge makes not-so-subtle gestures about slicing up throats. Ara doesn't know whether to be amused or exasperated.

"Yeah, thanks," Jason glances at her, and they look away before bursting into giggles.

"So..." Piper smiles briefly. "You don't know how you got here?"

"Oh, well, yes. Sort of..." Midas looks at his son. "Why did we pick Omaha, again? I know it wasn't the weather."

"The oracle."

"Yes! I was told there was an oracle in Omaha. Apparently, I was mistaken. But this is a rather nice house, isn't it? Lit—it's short for Lityerses, by the way—horrible name, but his mother insisted—Lit has plenty of wide-open space to practice his swordplay. He has quite a reputation for that. They called him the Reaper of Men back in the old days." 

Ara's not as alarmed at Lit's nickname as she is at their search for an oracle. Before she can ask, however, Jason speaks again. "So, all this gold—"

"Are you here for gold, my boy?" Suddenly the man looks delighted to have them around. "Please, take a brochure!"

"Um, you sell gold?" Jason glimpses at the papers on the coffee table.

"No, no, I make it. In uncertain times like these, gold is the wisest investment, don't you think? Governments fall. The dead rise. Giants attack Olympus. But gold retains its value!"

"I've seen that commercial," Leo says sarcastically.

"Oh, don't be fooled by cheap imitators! I assure you, I can beat any price for a serious investor. I can make a wide assortment of gold items at a moment's notice."

Leo glances at Ara as if asking 'Is this guy serious?' andshe shrugs.

"But..." Piper frowns. "Your Majesty, you gave up the golden touch, didn't you?"

Midas seems confused. "Gave it up?"

"Yes, you got it from some god—"

"Dionysus. I'd rescued one of his satyrs, and in return, the god granted me one wish. I chose the golden touch."

"But you accidentally turned your own daughter to gold, and you realized how greedy you'd been. So you repented." 

"Repented! You see, son? You're away for a few thousand years, and the story gets twisted all around. My dear girl, did those stories ever say I'd lost my magic touch?"

"Well, I guess not. They just said you learned how to reverse it with running water, and you brought your daughter back to life."

"That's all true. Sometimes I still have to reverse my touch. There's no running water in the house because I don't want accidents, but we chose to live next to a river just in case. Occasionally, I'll forget and pat Lit on the back—"

"I hate that," Lit grumbles.

"I told you I was sorry, son. At any rate, gold is wonderful. Why would I give it up?"

"Well, isn't that the point of the story? That you learned your lesson?" 

The man laughs. "My dear, may I see your backpack for a moment? Toss it here."

Ara looks around, trying to make out a quick route of escape. They're not trapped but she feels that way, Midas isn't a good guy, and he'll try to stop them from leaving.

"As you see, I can still turn anything to gold," Midas says, tossing Piper's bag, now golden, back to her. "That pack is magic now, as well. Go ahead—put your little storm spirit enemies in there."

"Seriously?" Leo takes the bag and approaches the spirits, they slip into it as if sucked into a vacuum. "Gotta admit. That's cool," he grins.

"You see? My golden touch a curse? Please. I didn't learn any lesson, and life isn't a story, girl. Honestly, my daughter Zoe was much more pleasant as a gold statue."

"She talked a lot," Lit added.

"Exactly! And so I turned her back to gold." 

"That's horrible!"

"Nonsense. She doesn't mind. Besides, if I'd learned my lesson, would I have gotten these?"

Midas shows them the donkey ears under his sleeping hat. Ara is officially eager to leave this place. She squeezes her T-Rex tightly against her chest, heart pounding as she kicks Jason's foot to urge him to finish the conversation.

"...I think that must be why I was brought back, eh Lit? To bankroll our patron."

"That and my good sword arm."

"So you do have a patron," Jason says, sounding as anxious to leave as Ara. "You work for the giants."

"Well, I don't care for giants myself, of course. But even supernatural armies need to get paid. I do owe my patron a great debt. I tried to explain that to the last group that came through, but they were very unfriendly. Wouldn't cooperate at all."

"The last group?"

"Hunters," The king's son makes a face. "Blasted girls from Artemis."

Ara hears a brief discharge go through Jason's body and onto the couch. He's mentioned something about Thalia being his sister, she doesn't know how that's possible. "When? What happened?" Jason asks urgently.

"Few days ago?" Lit shrugs. "I didn't get to kill them, unfortunately. They were looking for some evil wolves, or something. Said they were following a trail, heading west. Missing demigod—I don't recall."

Ara almost lets out a joyful exclamation, maybe they found Percy. She has to find Thalia.

"Very unpleasant young ladies, those Hunters," Midas agrees. "They absolutely refused to be turned into gold. Much of the security system outside I installed to keep that sort of thing from happening again, you know. I don't have time for those who aren't serious investors." 

Jason is now nudging Piper's arm to get her to wrap up their visit. As expected, the king is having none of it. He won't let them leave. Ara sneaks one hand into her pocket, wrapping her fingers around the compass.

"Don't worry, you don't have to be turned to gold. I give all my guests a choice—join my collection, or die at the hands of Lityerses. Really, it's good either way."

Piper gets up. "Your Majesty, you can't—"

Midas seizes her wrist and turns her into gold, Jason doesn't take it well. Ara jumps to her feet and pulls out her sword, Midas reaches for her but Leo jumps in and tries to summon fire, forgetting the room doesn't allow that, so Midas touches him instead.

"Leo!"

"Gold trumps fire, I'm afraid," Midas explains cheerily. "In this room, my power dampens all others, even charmspeak. Makes me wonder, daughter of Olympus, are you stronger than gold?"

"Hedge!" Jason screams. "Need help in here!"

"No goat to the rescue?" Midas mocks them after they get no answer. "Sad. But don't worry, it's really not painful. Lit can tell you."

Ara and Jason share one look. "We choose combat."

Midas is not surprised by their decision. "If you wish, demigods. Though I warn you, he is the best of his kind, and his killing will be less merciful than my golden touch."

"We'll take our chances," Ara replies.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Lit sneers. "I am the Reaper of Men!"

"Come on, Cornhusker," Jason taunts him, making his javelin appear. Ara adopts a fighting stance too.

"Oh, gold weapons!" Midas beams. "Very nice."

Lit is fast even while fighting two people. Jason and Ara have a bit of trouble working together, Jason is used to leading attacks, and she does whatever her gut tells her to. He keeps shouting suggestions that Ara ignores, but at least it works in their favor, it confuses Lit.

"What is that style?" He scowls. "You don't fight like a Greek!"

"Legion training," Jason grunts. "It's Roman."

"Roman? What is Roman?"

"News flash—While you were dead, Rome defeated Greece. Created the greatest empire of all time."

"According to them," Ara remarks. "They were stuck-up show-offs." Lit slashes across and the T-Rex's head falls limply to their feet. Ara's eyes darken. "Front or hind?" The girl asks.

"Front," Jason answers.

Ara lowers herself and kicks Lit on the back of the knees. Jason shoves his javelin's butt on the boy's chest, forcing him to crash into his father. Out of instinct, the man catches Lit, creating a very grumpy-looking statue of his son.

Ara stands up and nods at Jason. "Not bad for a Roman."

The boy grins. "Same to you, Graeca."

"Curses!" Midas snarls, pushing Lit's statue out of the way. "That was a naughty trick! I'll get you for that!" He looks at his son in pity. "Don't worry, son. I'll get you down to the river right after I collect this prize."

They move in different directions, Jason kicks the coffee table and the man crashes into it. The boy's hair stands up. "You know another good use for gold?" Jason looks at her. "It's an excellent conductor of electricity."

Ara drops to the ground and covers her head. Lightning strikes into the room and she smells something burning. Pieces of debris fall around and she crawls through the room. The chandelier falls and traps Midas on the floor.

Rain starts to pour down on them, Ara leans against a pillar for safety, she watches the statues go back to normal and Hedge finally runs into the room with frozen grass all over his face. "What'd I miss?"

"Where were you?" Jason's not able to stand straight, so Ara pushes herself up and steadies him. "I was screaming for help!"

Hedge burps. "Getting a snack. Sorry. Who needs killing?"

"No one, now!" Jason complains. "Just grab Leo. We'll get Piper."

"We won't do anything," Ara corrects him. "Take a breather, I'll grab Piper."

"I'm—"

"It's an order," she cuts him off.

"Don't leave me like this!" Midas demands.

Ara pauses, next to the man lays her beheaded T-Rex. She approaches and makes no attempt to help Midas, only picking up her plushie. "Your son killed my dino," she glances at the chandelier. "Wasn't gold your specialty? You save yourself."

The girl spots her Tyrian cloak under the coffee table, she pulls it out and throws it over Lit's body to make sure he doesn't go back to normal. Ara carries Piper's statue, it's heavy, but she should be able to reach the river without much strain.

"Let's get out of here," Jason seizes their backpacks and hangs them over his shoulder. "I think these guys will want some quality time with Midas."

Next Chapter ->

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @ash-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 12

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Bye bye, Asclepius... Apologies to those of you who wanted more of him in this awkward dynamic, but as necessary as he was for the plot, it would make the slow burn between Apollo and Hades even slower - and it's already glacial! - so something had to go... I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 11

APOLLO XII

Ascent up a cliff Monsters up high and down low Go, Asclepius

Tartarus was a prison.  It was not supposed to be something that could be escaped, although the hordes of monsters that broke out daily to terrorise demigods were clearly overlooked by the denizen, and it was with that knowledge plaguing the back of his mind that Apollo gripped his bow tightly as Asclepius’ hands found narrow ledges to grip and he began to pull himself up.

The last time he’d left Tartarus…  Well, Apollo didn’t actually know how he’d done it.  His awareness had ended as his form started to resolidify over the lip of Chaos and restarted in the safety of his twin’s palace on Olympus.  He could only assume that he’d somehow been granted the strength to transport himself out, a literal ascension from the deepest depths of hell straight to the land of the gods as his status restored, but he did not know for certain, and when the time came for he and Hades to leave, Bob’s status confirmed and potentially in their company, he would have to find a way to repeat the feat.

It was not a feat his son could replicate.  As impressive as Asclepius was, he was not an Olympian god and would never be a match for the power of one.  He was not even at full strength, despite Apollo’s attempts at bolstering him, thanks to Tartarus’ steady drain and Orion’s active, relentless hunt.  Battling his way through the exit used by the monsters straight to the Overworld had always been out of the question – Asclepius was not a warrior, and appearing in the Overworld would get Zeus’ attention immediately – but this other exit seemed just as gruelling in its own way.

Gold dripped down as Asclepius hauled himself up, looking more mortal than godly as his limbs trembled and strained.  Tartarus would not let him out without a fight, and the cliff was formidable and unforgiving as it slashed into Apollo’s son’s hands on every handhold.  But while Asclepius was not an Olympian, he was still a god, still a healing god, and a faint white-gold glow shimmered into existence around his hands and feet.  Apollo could feel the healing aura from where he stood, slowly tilting his head further and further back as his son continued his torturous ascent.

Hesiod had said it took nine days to fall to Tartarus.  Apollo had no idea how many it would take to climb out.  Many, many days, no doubt, in a task that was daunting even for a god, but gods were not so easily defeated.

Most gods shied away from things like hard work, choosing to coast along on their natural prowess rather than put effort into things.  They liked to enjoy themselves and their existence, and for many of them, that meant lazing around as they oversaw their domains.

Apollo had never been one to sit back and laze around – sure, a break was nice every now and again, but doing nothing was boring and he’d much rather spend the time shooting, composing, learning, or taking an active role in any of his domains.  His times mortal had also pushed him into having to work hard – building the walls of Troy had not been a walk in the park without his godly strength to aid him, and the entire experience as Lester had been nothing but trial after trial, pushing him past limits he hadn’t know he could pass.

Asclepius, though, had been born mortal.  He’d always had to work for things; the reason he was the superior healer despite being the weaker god was purely down to his work ethic, the way he’d pushed and pushed and pushed in his desire to be able to help as many people as possible, surpassing Apollo through a sheer single-mindedness that only a mortal-born could ever hope to achieve.  Creating the Physician’s Cure had not been an easy thing, either, and while Apollo had helped him with that, when asked, the brain power and persistence had been mostly from his son.

It was a trait he saw in his children more often than he admitted to anyone, a trait that he always insisted they’d inherited from their mortal parents rather than him – persistence, and an inability to give up.  No matter the trial, his children never seemed capable of giving up, of walking away and saying, “I can’t do that”.  For more than a few of them, it had developed into their fatal flaw, their cause of death as they kept pushing long past the time they should have stopped.

He admired and feared it in equal measure.

Right then, he admired it, and drew comfort from the knowledge, because it meant that Asclepius would make the climb.  He would not fall, and even if he did, he would try again.  And again.  And again.  As many times as it took until he was out, until he was safe, because it was something that had to be done, and Asclepius had never shied away from that.

It was difficult to tell how far up his son had managed to get; Apollo’s eyesight was keen and he could still make out every detail of Asclepius – the grimace of his lips as the cliff tore open his form anew, the determination in his brow as he pulled himself up despite the pain, the bright glow shimmering around the constantly opening and closing wounds – but the scale up of the cliffs of the Pit defied even a god’s comprehension.

Asclepius was high, but he had not yet reached the miasma of thick clouds that obscured the roof of the humungous cavern, not to mention the true start of the chute-like entrance he would need to climb out of in order to reach the Underworld safely.

His glow was increasing, too; it was no longer merely about his hands and feet, but the faintest lines of light were beginning to crisscross his skin, gleaming pale but gradually strengthening the higher he got.  It wasn’t dissimilar to the bright gold Apollo recalled webbing into his form as he, impossibly, pulled himself up from Chaos, reversing the unravelling of the Progenitor, and he hoped it meant the same thing.  Asclepius had not lost his divinity, had not been reverted to a mere mortal once more, but he had been pushed far, far from the domains from which he drew his power – domains he was now, slowly, edging his way towards again.

Part of him was surprised that Hades had allowed him to linger and watch his son’s ascent; he had thought that his uncle, clearly still antagonistic towards Asclepius even if he had agreed to free him from Tartarus itself, would have insisted on pushing on with their quest once Asclepius had begun his ascent.  There was no benefit to the older god for them to be standing here, at the base of the exit to the Underworld, watching a younger, weaker god scramble his way arduously up (well, Apollo was watching, couldn’t not watch.  Hades had turned his back the moment Asclepius’ ascent began and had not so much as glanced over his shoulder since), but Apollo was grateful for it.

He would not be able to see Asclepius all the way to the top – even his sight was not keen enough for that and could not pierce the miasma above them – but to be able to see him even part of the way up, to see that while it was a trial there were no signs that it was one his son would fail, was a great reassurance.

But Tartarus was a prison.

And Tartarus did not let its inmates leave so easily.

Apollo did not know what the flying beast was; it looked not too dissimilar to one of the Erinyes, although if it was it was not one of the Three, but another he had never known existed.  That did not matter when he saw it swoop towards where Asclepius clung to the cliff, a beacon of pale light in the distant haze of the lowest reaches of the miasma, and did not stop to think any further.

With a single intent, an arrow was nocked, the fletching brushing his cheek with the lightest of kisses as his longbow reached full draw, and he let fly.

Apollo was the god of archery.  He never missed.

It struck where the heart of the creature ought to have been, and a piercing cry would have rattled his eardrums were he still mortal, but while its flight faltered, it did not fall, and so he sent another.

And another.

His barrage was relentless as it swooped down on his son, claws outstretched and tearing at his chiton, his back, his skin.

Ichor poured down, but Asclepius hung on tightly and Apollo kept shooting, aiming at the muscles of the wings when fatal shots clearly weren’t working.  If he couldn’t kill it, he could still down it, stop it from tearing his son apart and pulling him back down to the floor of the Pit.

His quiver, once bristling with as many arrows as it could hold, depleted down to a single arrow, and then none, forcing Apollo to slow as he had to summon each one independently – he really needed to store and carry more arrows somehow – but he kept going, kept shooting and turning the thing assaulting his son into a pincushion full of arrows

One of Asclepius’ hands lost its grip, palm slick with gold, and his whole form lurched downwards, feet scrambling to take the sudden increase in weight, and Apollo’s heart leapt up into his mouth as his son scrabbled at the cliff face desperately.  The Erinys-like creature swooped in again, golden ichor falling like rain, and Apollo nocked another arrow.

It hit the creature just as it reached to pluck Asclepius from the cliff, slamming into the meat of the wing’s shoulder, and with a bone-shattering scream it lost its rhythm and crashed straight into the cliff face itself before tumbling down.

Down.

Down.

Apollo lunged forwards as it screeched and flapped tattered wings desperately but failed to catch itself.  He still didn’t know for certain what creature it was – a child of Nyx, perhaps a forgotten Erinys – but that didn’t matter.  It had attacked his son and that was a crime Apollo would not forgive.  Hands reaching forward, grasping, he tore one wing away entirely as, with a roar of fury, he flashed, a miniature sun down where the sun had never before shone.

It didn’t even have time to screech one final time before it exploded into a shower of dust.

Above him, Asclepius flailed for the cliff again and latched onto it, clinging to it like his life depended on it.  His injuries were gone, his glow a little bit brighter, and Apollo watched as he took a moment to pause, to breathe through the adrenaline, before he reached for the next handhold and continued to claw his way up the cliff.

The sound of a blade whistling behind him had him shifting part of his attention to his periphery, another arrow materialising in his hand, ready to be nocked and fired at the next threat.

He almost dropped it at the sight of Hades standing behind him, still facing away from the cliff and Asclepius but cutting swathes through an approaching horde of monsters.  Nothing that Apollo could see was powerful, but they were numerous, crashing against the might of Hades like the onslaught of a never-ending waterfall.

Hades, of course, was near enough unaffected.  He was one of the most powerful gods for a reason, and no rabble of regular monsters was going to even ruffle his shadow, no matter how many of them there were.  He hadn’t called Apollo to assist him because he didn’t need help to handle things, but it still struck him as odd that he hadn’t even alerted him.

There was no doubt that this sudden army was because of Asclepius’ departure – the timing could be for nothing else – and while Hades had permitted his son to leave, it was Apollo who had insisted on it, and so Apollo’s fault, not that he regretted it in the slightest.  With that in mind, it was a surprise that Hades had chosen to fight rather than leave it all to Apollo.

Apollo was no Big Three, but even he was enough to deal with this wave of attack alone (there was no Orion, no bane to face, in this rabble).

He let his arrow fly and it skewered through several monsters at once, exploding them all into dust near-simultaneously.  Hades didn’t need his help, but it felt wrong to not do anything as they approached.

The glare his uncle sent him over his shoulder, the first time he’d looked back since Asclepius had begun his ascent, made him pause.

“Don’t waste your arrows,” Hades told him sternly, sending a sweep of darkness out with the next swing of his sword and dematerialising several more monsters without even looking at them.  “I do not need assistance dealing with this.  Refill your quiver and watch the skies.”

It still felt wrong to stand back and do nothing while Hades fought – while Asclepius climbed, drips of ichor staining the wall as it continued to bite into his skin – but his uncle was right; he was the archer, the ranged fighter.

And his quiver was empty.

He stepped back, giving Hades the space to fight unimpeded as he focused on his quiver, summoning as many arrows as could fit while his vision filled with the dust of dying monsters, raising up thicker and thicker until it seemed like they would meld with the clouds of miasma above them.

Not many of the monsters had wings, or seemed to think to use them, but it was almost a relief when some did take to the skies, wheeling around and attempting to get past Hades that way, even though it meant they were targeting Asclepius, who himself was getting closer and closer to the thick crimson haze above them.

Hades didn’t even bother to try stopping anything that flew past him, but Apollo’s bow was ready and nothing was of the calibre of the first attack.  A single arrow was enough to vaporise anything that tried to get near his son – sometimes they lined up conveniently enough that Apollo could take out multiple with a single arrow, and sometimes they didn’t so he simply nocked several arrows at once to take out several in a single barrage.

It was a strange feeling, fighting alongside another god.  Barring Artemis, of course, and memorable occasions like the horrific Typhon fight that had needed all Olympian hands on deck, Apollo tended to fight alone.  His brethren didn’t assist him, and that was fine because they never wanted his assistance, either.  The ease with which he fell into sync with Hades, the older god handling the melee and ground-based opponents while Apollo focused on taking down the arial threats, was weird.

Foreign.

It felt more like when he’d been Lester, fighting alongside Meg, his children, Nico and the other demigods.  When he wasn’t alone, when he had someone else he could trust – when someone else trusted him.

Admittedly, Hades knew he was fighting to protect his son, that after the fuss he’d kicked up about Asclepius’ punishment he wouldn’t let anything stop his son leaving Tartarus once and for all, so it was a simple matter for Hades to leave the last line of defence to him considering the situation.

It still felt strange to face his uncle’s back and see with his own eyes that Hades never once glanced back to check what he was or wasn’t doing.

Instead, Stygian Iron flashed, a dark purple line of obliteration as monster after monster fell to the blade, not one managing to even touch the god of the dead before their existence ceased to be.  Apollo’s bow sung in harmony, the string humming fiercely as it sent arrow after arrow into anything that dared fly past the line his uncle had metaphorically drawn in the glass shards beneath their feet.

Despite the battle – one-sided slaughter, really – Apollo still kept a large portion of his attention on his son as Asclepius kept scrambling up, so he noticed the instant the younger god reached where the miasma thickened into visible clouds, a glowing spec of white-gold in amongst the sea of crimson.

The monsters seemed to notice, too, throwing themselves all the more viciously – desperately – at Hades and his promise of oblivion.  Larger winged things threw themselves into the sky, but they still weren’t like the first thing and Apollo downed them all long before they got in striking range of his son.

The bright speck that was his son gradually faded, the miasma concealing him from even Apollo’s keen eyes, and by the time he’d brought down another dozen or so of the winged beasts, it was smothered entirely.

No, not smothered.  Smothered implied suffering, even death.  Concealed, that was a better word for it.  Asclepius was concealed, not just from his sight, but from the monsters’, from things down at the bottom of the Pit that had no chance of getting so high no matter how hard they tried.

It didn’t actually signify safety; Apollo knew that, knew that Asclepius’ climb was only just beginning, but he reasoned that with him concealed from the monsters and getting ever-closer to Apollo’s own domains, which were desperately reaching down as far as they could get by virtue of Apollo himself being down in the Pit, let alone the discovery of one of his children down there, the higher he got, the easier the climb would be.

He shot down one last monster making a desperate flight for the miasma and watched as it disintegrated into dust.  On the ground, Hades despatched the last of the monsters that pressed forwards and sheathed his sword as the rest turned tail and fled, apparently aware that unless he fell – and Asclepius was powerful enough that he should not – their prey was out of their reach forever, and continuing the assault against Hades would be nothing short of meaningless suicide.

Part of Apollo wanted to stay where he was, to make sure Asclepius made it all the way out with no setbacks, but he knew he couldn’t – his son had passed from his sight and time was not trackable in the Pit.  He would be standing there forever, never knowing if Asclepius was still climbing or if he had made it long, long ago.  And if his son fell, Apollo had already proven he could sense him across Tartarus.  He would return to his son’s side immediately.

He made sure his quiver was fully stocked once more, arrows materialising until it bristled with feathers jostling against each other, and approached Hades.

“Thank you,” he said, because he couldn’t not thank his uncle for helping defend Asclepius, despite Hades’ own less than charitable feelings towards his son.

The older god made a dismissive noise.  “Thank me by focusing on the reason we’re down here and not getting distracted by any other side missions,” he said.  “Come.”

Without a backwards glance, Hades strode forwards, away from the cliff stained with ichor from Asclepius’ hands and feet.  Apollo spared it one last look, one last silent hope that his son would manage the rest of the climb and reach the relative safety of the Underworld in one piece, before following.

He might not know the geography of Tartarus as well as Hades, but his memory was flawless and he immediately realised that Hades was striking out in a different direction to the last time.

“Why are we going a different way?” he asked, catching up with his uncle and keeping in step beside him.  “Did something happen on the route?”

“I should be asking you that,” Hades returned, black flaming eyes flickering over to him and clearly looking at him.  Apollo felt his eyes land on his neck, where Orion had torn a chunk of his form away, and resisted the urge to cover it with his hand.  It was healed, Orion had lost their last encounter and ended up tangled in his own bowstring, and Hades did not need to know how much Apollo had struggled on his so-called ‘side mission’ to save his son.

Thankfully, Hades didn’t press him for answers, not even leaving him time to answer before continuing to talk.

“Your crossing of the river was pathetic,” his uncle told him, clearly not interested in softening the blow to his pride.  “Jumping over it like a frightened rabbit like your son is not appropriate for a god of your calibre, and increasing in size is not wise in this place.  We are trying not to bring attention to ourselves, as foreign a concept as that is to you, I’m sure.”

“I can be inconspicuous!” Apollo protested, and Hades snorted.

“I do not think that word means what you think it means,” he said.  “Regardless,” he continued over Apollo’s outraged gape – he was the god of knowledge and poetry, of course he knew what words meant! – “while longer, this route will bring us across the rivers at their narrower points.”

Rivers.

Intellectually, Apollo knew about the five Underworld rivers which emptied out into Tartarus, but having only been faced with the Phlegethon so far, he hadn’t stopped to consider the others – or, specifically, one in particular.

Had Styx really let him off the hook for his myriad of rashly made and subsequently broken oaths?  She hadn’t destroyed him when she had the chance, but it was very unlike her to allow bygones to be bygones like that.  He could understand why she would impress upon him the importance of not making further rash oaths, but she had sworn to take payment when he had been out of his mind during the supplication of Trophonius’ oracle and so far, Apollo did not feel as though she had taken said payment.

His oath to Will sat heavily in the back of his mind, his first oath since re-ascension – and so soon after re-ascension.  It was one he meant with every inch of his essence, one he would fight to keep, but what would Styx think of the fact that he had made another oath on her already?  Would she approve, or call it rash and take it to mean that he hadn’t learned the lesson she’d tried to impress upon him at the edge of Chaos after all?

Apollo could admit that he was not looking forwards to crossing the river Styx, should it lay in their path.

“You know better than I,” he admitted out loud, and tried to stay serious and not at all like he was probing nervously as he asked, “which rivers will we need to cross to reach the prison?”

If Hades thought anything was strange about his asking, he gave no sign of it.  “Between us and the prison lay four rivers,” he replied.  “The first, as you’ve already seen, is the Phlegethon.  After that follows the Cocytus, and then the Styx.  Finally, the Lethe passes along the cliffs above the prison.”

Was it Apollo’s imagination, or had Hades paused slightly after naming the Styx?

How much did his uncle know of his latest mortal trials, anyway?  He had not been in the throne room when Apollo had had his vision about his brethren watching – and betting on! – his time as Lester, and he wasn’t entirely certain the Underworld had a subscription to Hephaestus TV, either.

No, Apollo decided.  It was likely that his uncle had been too busy running the Underworld to bother keeping up with his mortal grievances.  He couldn’t possibly know about the potential strain in his relationship with Styx.

“Where does the Acheron run?” he asked, noting the one river absent from their route.  It was not a river he was particularly grieved to be missing – he had suffered plenty of pain recently without a river god adding to it – but its absence from the vicinity of the prison seemed strange.

“In the deepest depths of Tartarus,” Hades said, and this time Apollo knew he was not imagining the pause.  The way dark eyes flickered over to him accentuated it.  “It flows close to the edge of Chaos.”

Ah.

Right.

Apollo had to fight the human urge to swallow nervously.  “Not a place on my list of places to visit,” he forced himself to say lightly, as though he didn’t know that the one part of his trials Hades knew about was his battle with Python on that very edge of Tartarus.  How close had they been to the river?

He decided he didn’t want to know.  It made no difference, regardless.

“I suspected as such,” Hades observed; there was no pity in his voice, but it was not devoid of all emotion, either.  Understanding danced along the edge of his tone; he knew why Apollo never wanted to return there, and if Apollo was reading his uncle correctly, it was not a place he was keen on visiting, either.

On that, at least, it appeared they were in full agreement.

True to Hades’ word, when they approached the Phlegethon (again; the river god must be furious at how many times Apollo had crossed it back and forth by now), its banks were far closer together than Apollo had seen before.  That was not to say the river itself was any less vicious – if anything, it seemed more so, violent as it forced its way through the ravine – but it was passable with a brief increase in size and a simple step across.

That did not stop the flames from lashing out and coating his calves with gold which dripped down until Apollo’s healing sealed it shut and he willed his appearance clean and free of discriminatory ichor, however.

Hades passed through the flames completely unaffected, just as he had before, visually perfect as Apollo settled back into step beside him.

This far up the slope, the glass was downright vicious as they walked across it.  Sharper and more jagged than ever, small specks of gold began to mark the way they’d travelled as ichor succeeded in occasionally leaving the wounds before godly healing sealed them shut again.

The idea that they were leaving a visible, tangible, trail, put Apollo on edge.

Orion was defeated, he reminded himself.  All trussed up with his own bowstring and left somewhere far, far deeper down into Tartarus, where Apollo had no intentions of returning.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation as he and Hades continued to trek across the uppermost reaches of the Pit’s floor, leaving the tiniest spots of gold in their wake.

Chapter 13>>

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

Anyways today is the 96th birthday of the one and only Jim Lovell, who flew Gemini VII, Gemini XII, Apollo 8, and perhaps most famously, Apollo 13.

Gemini VII (7) was a long-haul space flight, designed to determine how humans would fare after 14 days in space. Lovell and his commander, Frank Borman, spent 14 days in their capsule in orbit around the earth. They also completed the first space rendezvous with Gemini VI. Borman and Lovell would go on to fly Apollo 8 together, and became close friends until Borman's passing late last year. Below is Lovell, left, and Borman, right, before Gemini VII.

Gemini XII (12) was the last Gemini mission, which Lovell flew with the future second man on the moon, Buzz Aldrin. This flight made incredible strides when it came to spacewalking, since it had previously been seen as extremely difficult and exhausting. Aldrin had studied space rendezvous at MIT, and was able to reassure NASA that working in space outside of a capsule was achievable after training.

Apollo 8 was the first mission to take humans out of earth's orbit and gravity, flying for the first time around the moon. It was a somewhat impromptu journey, in December of 1968, created because the lunar lander would not be ready to test on time. Lovell, alongside Borman and rookie astronaut Bill Anders became the first humans to fly around the moon, orbiting it and taking photographs of potential lunar landing sites. They were the first to see an earthrise, as shown in this photo, taken by Bill Anders:

It was a triumph of ingenuity, and helped show the public that NASA really could go the distance. Lovell did almost kill them all when he inputted the wrong information to the computer, but a quick-thinking programmer whose daughter had created the same error not long before was able to resolve the issue without any further hiccups.

Apollo 13 was the closest Lovell came to losing his life in space. Lovell, alongside astronauts Fred Haise and Jack Swigert, were on their way to the moon when an oxygen tank exploded on the side of the service module. Working alongside an incredibly skilled Mission Control team, the astronauts were able to use the lunar module as a lifeboat and used it to provide power and oxygen to their dying spacecraft. They used the moon's gravity to slingshot back to earth. Though their planned moon landing was canceled, all three men made it home safely. Lovell later co-authored a book about the experience, which was the inspiration for the film of the same name.

Lovell's NASA career is about as storied as you can get, even with never setting foot on the moon.

[janzoo]

Some notes on Ancients and Greek mythology - spoilers within for Final Fantasy XIV, especially Shadowbringers and Endwalker. This isn’t necessarily new information, but I haven’t seen anything about it here on Tumblr yet. Let’s have a lil fun with (mostly) Greek mythology under the readmore -

Hi folks! While trying to figure out an Azem for my WoL, I found some info that I’d like to share. Not all Ancients take their name directly from Greek mythology, if at all. And of those that do, matching the character’s gender to their namesake’s doesn’t seem to matter, either. So for those of you like me who are figuring out an Azem or other Ancient OCs, relax! Ancients’ names aren’t as strict as we might think.

While “Hythlodaeus” is a name in the ancient Greek language, it doesn’t come from mythos. In fact, it comes from a satirical novel called “Utopia” that was published in 1516; it roughly translates as “speaker/distributor of nonsense”.

Mitron’s real name is Artemis. Mitron is male, but Artemis was a goddess.

“Venat” is a reference to a character from Final Fantasy XII of the same name, and comes from Latin “to hunt”. (Some think that the katakana for her name, which spells out in romaji as “vēnesu”, is supposed to be “Venus”. It’s more likely that it’s supposed to spell “Veneth”, but there’s no way to write “th” sounds in katakana. The same mix-up happened with Aerith in FFVII.)

So yeah, if you want to branch out from Greek mythology, or play with gender, or whatever, cool! Not that you weren’t cool to do so anyway - this is all just for funsies in the end. In the meantime, I’ve put together a few lesser known names and figures from (mainly Greek) mythology that could also prove interesting names/inspirations for Ancients. These are very much simplified versions of the myths. Please don’t be an ass if there’s “wrong” info, the myths vary a lot and I’m doing this in my own spare time for fun and because I’m hyperfocusing/infodumping about some special interests.

Tiresias/Teiresias: One day, Tiresias found a couple of snakes mating, and beat them to death with a stick. This angered Hera, and she turned him into a woman. Tiresias then lived for several years as a woman, including getting married and having children. She then found some mating snakes again, and either beat them to death again or didn’t - either way she became a man again. He then became an oracle - the “how” varies between stories but the version I was told was that Zeus and Hera were arguing over who has better orgasms. Zeus argued that it’s women, and Hera vice versa. They decided to ask Tiresias, since he’d experienced both. He said it’s women. Hera became pissed at him again and blinded him. Zeus felt bad about this and gave Tiresias the gift of prophecy as a sort of consolation. Some myths say that this gift worked by allowing Tiresias to understand birdsong. (Between the gift of prophecy and the gender “fluidity”, Tiresias sounds like a prime candidate for Urianger’s Ancient imo.)

Sibyl: Technically a title denoting a prophetess, but we’re making it a name now. I’m referring specifically to the story of the Cumaean Sibyl. Apollo came to her, offering a wish in exchange for her virginity. She held up a handful of sand and asked for as many years as grains of sand she held. However, she later reneged on her part of the deal, refusing to sleep with Apollo. He granted her the extended life she wanted, but did not preserve her age or body. Sibyl shrank with age until she was no more than sand herself, kept in a jar. She was still conscious and had a voice. She’s referenced to at the beginning of T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Waste Land” like so (translated from Latin and Greek): For once I myself saw with my own eyes the Sibyl of Cumae hanging in a jar, and when the boys said, "Sibyl, what do you want?" she replied "I want to die."

Hecate: Greek goddess of magic/witchcraft, transitions, and crossroads. (Many sources also say necromancy, creatures of the night, and ghosts.) I don’t have a specific story for her, I just think she’s cool.

Deimos and Phobos: Sons of Ares, god of war, though they’re more metaphors than proper gods. “Deimos” means “dread” and “phobos” means “fear”. They accompanied their father into war; thus, when Ares descended onto the battlefield, he brought dread and fear with him.

Ma’at/Maat: Let’s dip into ancient Egypt! Ma’at was the goddess of harmony, truth, and justice, said to balance the stars and the seasons. Most notable was her feather, the Feather of Truth, which was used to weigh the hearts of the dead. If the dead person’s heart was lighter than or equal to the weight of her feather, they were deemed worthy of proceeding into the afterlife proper. (The Feather made a cameo in Marvel’s “Moon Knight” lol)

Bast/Bastet/Ailuros (Greek): The Egyptian goddess with the cat head. You’ve probably at least heard of her. Defender of kings and goddess of pregnancy/childbirth. Sometimes depicted as the gentler aspect of the more aggressive lioness-headed goddess Sekhmet. Honestly, I’m mainly listing her because a) she has a cool Greek name if you want to stick with that, and 2) it could be a fun option if you want to be really on-the-nose with the Ancient of a Miqo’te lol.

My hyperfocus seems to have about run its course, so I’m finishing the post here. The point is that if/when you’re making an Ancient OC, you’re not bound to ancient Greece, or matching gender for gender. Thanks for reading. :D

[moonwatchuniverse]

Happy 95th anniversary to NASA astronaut James Lovell In 1962, US Naval aviator James Lovell was selected in NASA astronaut group 2 “The Next Nine” and flew onboard Gemini VII, Gemini XII, Apollo 8 and Apollo 13. Note he wore his personal Rolex GMT-master 1675 aviator wrist watch on an Oyster bracelet in this June 1967 photo with US President Lyndon B. Johnson. Anno 2023, James Lovell remains the second oldest living Apollo-era astronaut, just 11 days younger than colleague Frank Fred Borman. (Photo: AP/NASA)

[korbeedon]

flower symbolism makes me very very happy. i have no idea why but it makes something in my brain work.

Started in Europe

Conflicting accounts for who was first to write

1. Catherine H. in 1839 “The Language of Flowers” found in her book on the language of flowers, Flora’s Lexicon

Based on the LOF in Victorian England, France, and America

2. Mme. Louise Cortambert (pseudonym “Charlotte de Latour”) in her book “Le 8Langage des fleurs” which translates to The Language of flowers. 

LOF is based on folklore, literature, mythology, religion, and the plant's physical characteristics. 

Symbolic association from Chinese, Japanese, Middle Eastern, Greek, and Roman cultures/mythology/religion

Literature from Shakespear

Turkish language of flowers and objects (Selam)

Taking Turkish words for different flowers and finding which other words they can rhyme with and making a sentence out of it. (Armonde (Pear) rhymes with omonde (hope) so a rhyme for these two words can be Armonde - Wer banna bir omonde (Pear - Let me not despair)

The Turkish language came to Europe through two people, Seigneur Aubry de la Mattraye and Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Husband and wife. They were Turkish embassies that went before the court of Charles XII of Sweden and shared the language of objects and in this case flowers. 

Physical characteristics (root, stem, leaf, bloom?, and seed

Chrysanthemum/mums: A symbol of death and mourning, but also support and encouragement

Found in east Asia in grasslands, mountain slopes, riversides, fields, and seashores

In Europe, it means death because it was a commonly used flower to decorate graves in the 1700s. Asian Countries have a more positive meaning, used for family seals and pottery. (represents the turning of the seasons) November birth flower

Forget-me-nots: It can be used to symbolize remembrance – both during a parting or after death (bright blue flowers)

Europe, Asia, and Australia in wood/boggy areas

German folktale, where a dying knight threw flowers at his lady and said forget-me-not, the lady wore the flowers forever. 

Hyacinth: Sorrow, I am sorry. Please forgive me.

The Mediterranean and tropical Africa and woodlands

From greek mythology, where apollo and zephyrs killed Hyacinth and his remains were turned into purple hyacinth in the sorrow of his death. (slightly toxic)

Yellow Roses: Said to symbolize friendship

Mostly in Asia but in other places to

Yellow is a very positive and happy color, In Korean and Japanese culture, it was used as a symbol of jealousy. 

Daffodils: Symbols of rebirth and hope

Europe, Asia, Mediterranean meadows/woodland edges

The first flowers bloom in the spring, so it represents the new life after the winter months. March birth flower cause it usually blooms in march

Foxglove: Symbols of insecurity + many other things

Europe, the Mediterranean, and in woodlands

From Folk’s gloves (the fae folk), cautious tale to scare children from picking them. (Poisonous) also grown for the Virgin Mary (our lady’s gloves/gloves of the virgin)

Lily of the valley: Means the return of happiness

Eurasia, eastern North America, and in mountain forests

Used in religious ceremonies, it Represents Eve’s tears after she left the garden, the national flower of Finland, the May birth flower, is associated with Ostara, known for her humility (germanic mythology)

Baptisia (False/Wild Indigo): Symbolizes protection

Central and eastern north America near wood, meadows, stream

Associated with Venus (the Roman version of Aphrodite), (toxic but can be used as a noninflammatory, indigenous people use it for blue dye)

White orchids: symbolizes apology

Asia and in tropical forests

over 35,000 different varieties, based on the word orchis (which means testicles in greek because a writer said orchids looked like them) sign of wealth in the victorian era and in japan

Yarrow: symbolizes a wish for better health

Grasslands and forests, Eurasia

comes from the greek word here which means holy herb, neanderthals though they were a holy flower, druids used them in ceremonies, medieval Europe used them to exercise ghosts, dreaming means you'll receive good news, good for clotting blood

iris, arborvitae, and bluebell- are supposed to convey trust, friendship, and gratitude.

Carnations- innocence, remembrance

Hyacinths- deep sorrow, forgiveness, regret

White lilac- youthful innocence, new beginnings

Peonies- Family

Red roses- love, respect

Yellow rose- friendship

Blue tulip- peace and tranquility

Blue gladiolus- loyalty

Iris- hope

White tulip- I’m sorry

Lily- sympathy, innocence

Purple hyacinth- deep sorrow

[alwayswiselight]

I just had to get out of the house today. So, I made my way to a favorite antiquarian and used book shop in the French Quarter where I purchased these volumes. At last, I can access all of the works of Aristotle at my leisure. The book on Musical Thought in Ancient Greece has much in it regarding my current obsession with Orpheus. It also reminds me that the lyre is the instrument of Apollo and Orpheus while the aulos, or double piped wind instrument, is that of Dionysus. The latter makes a sound similar to Scottish bagpipes. Cleopatra's father, Ptolemy XII, bore the epithets Neos Dionysus and Auletes which proclaimed him the New Dionysus and the Aulos Player. The last two books are good scholarly works that will add to my knowledge of Byzantium. All in all, it was a pleasant and profitable day.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 12.24

502 – Chinese emperor Xiao Yan names Xiao Tong his heir designate. 640 – Pope John IV is elected, several months after his predecessor's death. 759 – Tang dynasty poet Du Fu departs for Chengdu, where he is hosted by fellow poet Pei Di. 1144 – The capital of the crusader County of Edessa falls to Imad ad-Din Zengi, the atabeg of Mosul and Aleppo. 1294 – Pope Boniface VIII is elected, replacing St. Celestine V, who had resigned. 1500 – A joint Venetian–Spanish fleet captures the Castle of St. George on the island of Cephalonia. 1737 – The Marathas defeat the combined forces of the Mughal Empire, Rajputs of Jaipur, Nizam of Hyderabad, Nawab of Awadh and Nawab of Bengal in the Battle of Bhopal. 1777 – Kiritimati, also called Christmas Island, is discovered by James Cook. 1800 – The Plot of the rue Saint-Nicaise fails to kill Napoleon Bonaparte. 1814 – Representatives of the United Kingdom and the United States sign the Treaty of Ghent, ending the War of 1812. 1818 – The first performance of "Silent Night" takes place in the church of St. Nikolaus in Oberndorf, Austria. 1826 – The Eggnog Riot at the United States Military Academy begins that night, wrapping up the following morning. 1846 – British acquired Labuan from the Sultanate of Brunei for Great Britain. 1865 – Jonathan Shank and Barry Ownby form The Ku Klux Klan. 1868 – The Greek Presidential Guard is established as the royal escort by King George I. 1871 – The opera Aida premieres in Cairo, Egypt. 1906 – Reginald Fessenden transmits the first radio broadcast; consisting of a poetry reading, a violin solo, and a speech. 1913 – The Italian Hall disaster in Calumet, Michigan results in the deaths of 73 striking workers families at a Christmas party participants (including 59 children) when someone falsely yells "fire". 1914 – World War I: The "Christmas truce" begins. 1918 – Region of Međimurje is captured by the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes from Hungary. 1920 – Gabriele D'Annunzio surrendered the Italian Regency of Carnaro in the city of Fiume to Italian Armed Forces. 1924 – Albania becomes a republic. 1929 – Assassination attempt on Argentine President Hipólito Yrigoyen. 1929 – A four alarm fire breaks out in the West Wing of the White House in Washington, D.C. 1939 – World War II: Pope Pius XII makes a Christmas Eve appeal for peace. 1941 – World War II: Kuching is conquered by Japanese forces. 1941 – World War II: Benghazi is conquered by the British Eighth Army. 1942 – World War II: French monarchist, Fernand Bonnier de La Chapelle, assassinates Vichy French Admiral François Darlan in Algiers, Algeria. 1943 – World War II: U.S. General Dwight D. Eisenhower is named Supreme Allied Commander for the Operation Overlord. 1944 – World War II: The Belgian Troopship Leopoldville was torpedoed and sank with the loss of 763 soldiers and 56 crew. 1945 – Five of nine children become missing after their home in Fayetteville, West Virginia, is burned down. 1951 – Libya becomes independent. Idris I is proclaimed King of Libya. 1952 – First flight of Britain's Handley Page Victor strategic bomber. 1953 – Tangiwai disaster: In New Zealand's North Island, at Tangiwai, a railway bridge is damaged by a lahar and collapses beneath a passenger train, killing 151 people. 1964 – Vietnam War: Viet Cong operatives bomb the Brinks Hotel in Saigon, South Vietnam to demonstrate they can strike an American installation in the heavily guarded capital. 1964 – Flying Tiger Line Flight 282 crashes after takeoff from San Francisco International Airport, killing three. 1966 – A Canadair CL-44 chartered by the United States military crashes into a small village in South Vietnam, killing 111. 1968 – Apollo program: The crew of Apollo 8 enters into orbit around the Moon, becoming the first humans to do so. They performed ten lunar orbits and broadcast live TV pictures. 1969 – Nigerian troops capture Umuahia, the Biafran capital. 1971 – LANSA Flight 508 is struck by lightning and crashes in the Puerto Inca District in the Department of Huánuco in Peru, killing 91. 1973 – District of Columbia Home Rule Act is passed, allowing residents of Washington, D.C. to elect their own local government. 1974 – Cyclone Tracy devastates Darwin, Australia. 1994 – Air France Flight 8969 is hijacked on the ground at Houari Boumediene Airport, Algiers, Algeria. Over the course of three days three passengers are killed, as are all four terrorists. 1996 – A Learjet 35 crashes into Smarts Mountain near Dorchester, New Hampshire, killing both pilots on board. 1997 – The Sid El-Antri massacre in Algeria kills between 50 and 100 people. 1999 – Indian Airlines Flight 814 is hijacked in Indian airspace between Kathmandu, Nepal, and Delhi, India. The aircraft landed at Kandahar in Afghanistan. The incident ended on December 31 with the release of 190 survivors (one passenger is killed). 2003 – The Spanish police thwart an attempt by ETA to detonate 50 kg of explosives at 3:55 p.m. inside Madrid's busy Chamartín Station. 2005 – Chad–Sudan relations: Chad declares a state of belligerence against Sudan following a December 18 attack on Adré, which left about 100 people dead. 2008 – The Lord's Resistance Army, a Ugandan rebel group, begins a series of attacks against civilians in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, massacring more than 400. 2018 – A helicopter crash kills Martha Érika Alonso, first female Governor of Puebla, Mexico, and her husband Rafael Moreno Valle Rosas, former governor.

[gardenofadonis]

TBC characters as major arcana cards in R-W tarot

0. The Fool: Patroclus

I. The Magician: Kampe

II. The High Priestess: Cassandra

III. The Empress: Hecuba

IV. The Emperor: Agamemnon

V. The Hierophant: Laocoon

VI. The Lovers: Zagreus & Eurydice

VII. The Chariot: Watchman

VIII. Strength: Clytemnestra & Aegisthus (as the lion)

IX. The Hermit: The Oracle

X. Wheel of Fortune: Macaria & Polyxena

XI. Justice: Polydorus

XII. The Hanged Man: Askalaphos

XIII. Death: Hades

XIV. Temperance: Luba

XV. The Devil: Polymestor

XVI. The Tower: Kronos

XVII. The Star: Iphigenia

XVIII. The Moon: Artemis

XIX. The Sun: Apollo

XX. Judgement: Neoptolemus

XXI. The World: Persephone