#virgin birth myth

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

IF JESUS HAD DIED IN 2000

Paul would be writing his various letters* in the 2020's *the letters that most scholars consider genuine; Galatians, 1 Thessalonians, 1-2 Corinthians, Romans, Philipians & Philemon - a generation later and having never known Jesus in person

Gospel of Mark won't be written until around the 2030's - with no claims of Jesus' virgin birth, ascension and divinity

Gospel of Matthew won't be written until around the 2040's - with the first record of virgin birth, Bethlehem origin, guards & angel at tomb

Gospel of Luke won't be written until around the 2050's - with the first record of a post-resurrection Jesus eating, appearing & disappearing and ascension to heaven

Gospel of John won't be written until around the 2060's - with the first record of the incarnation of Jesus (god-man), divinity claims of Jesus, the seven "I am" sayings of Jesus and Jesus' lengthy discourse with Pilate

This sure sounds like something that people just made up.

[wackachewbacca]

Only recently stepped into mythological retellings and already I want someone to do Mary the mother of Jesus because I want to know what it is to be told you are going to give birth to the Messiah, birth him in an animal trough, flee for your lives to avoid slaughter, live a few years in ease with your husband and son and I am assuming a few other children/relatives barring the few instances your messiah son decides to scare the shit out of you when he’s missing one day, and then one day you’re following your son’s small congregation of people going in people’s homes and the countryside watching things of purported miracles happen in front of your eyes and perhaps grow close to other notable women of the ministry (weirdly enough there are two more women named Mary who may just be the same person?), and then the worst days of your life when your son is taken from you, tortured and battered and sentenced to death and you watch him die a painful death and though you’ll be taken care of by your son’s will, wouldn’t you briefly for a moment hate the very being who sent you this darling child just to slaughter him in front of your eyes and perhaps what seems like a false promise and you’re left to your immense grief with the rest of his followers until a few days later someone says he’s alive again and you dare to dream and you won’t dare give life to that dream until you see him before your eyes and your darling child is alive and does it even matter if he’s the messiah promised to the world, it’s your child come back to you from death itself and my god what a tragic and wonderful life that must have been

[janumun]

A Practical Demonstration (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 9.8k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: size difference, oral and vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, mild mentions of stalking (not Sylus or Mephisto for once LOL), inexperienced (NOT virgin) reader, edging, drinking, [im]proper use of evol, explicit sexual content

Summary: When you end up disclosing a mortifying truth to Sylus about your dating life, deep in a drinking session; drowning yourself within a bottle — or three — of alcohol until you black out is the only option left to you to avoid that sharp, intuitive gaze for the rest of the night.  

That is, until Sylus throws a counter offer your way, one that sounds far too tempting to your scrabbled brain. Being the brilliant voice of reason you are tonight, you accept.  

[A fic where Sylus shows you exactly how good sex with a perceptive partner feels like when you confess your less than optimal dating experience.] 

Author’s Notes: Truly clown moment when I believed this fic would not exceed more than 4k words and yet again, here I am sitting on an almost 10k monster. I love what being horny for these men has done for my inspiration. Thank you so much to @chibamari for providing the prompt that birthed this fic. Already working on a religious desecration imagery angsty sex fic with Xavier and Queen MC, based on his first myth, as we speak.

The lingering remnants of your foiled meeting are muted with the press of rouged lips against the cusp of your cool glass, the liquor within, sliding easy down your throat with your fervent swallow.  

Placing it back down with a defeated sigh, you lean your arm against the counter, cradling your warming cheek against the crook of your palm.  

You never should’ve let Tara talk you into an impromptu date with a mutual acquaintance she’d considered ‘the perfect match’ for you; her giddy excitement and enthusiasm to get you a date had been too difficult to turn down. You cursed yourself underneath your breath at your inability to say no to those big, wide eyes and cheery smile; exactly the components that had saddled you deep into the disaster you’d considered that date to be — if it could be called as such.  

You’d excused yourself half-way through the man’s self-absorbed prattling — ruining the taste of the expensive steak in front, one you’d been wanting to try for ages — on excuse of an urgent mission coming up.  

A hand tucking your phone close to your ear, to reinforce your hasty lie while the other had slipped your card to your assigned waiter, making hasty work of settling your end of the bill. You’d swept up your coat and purse, striding out the lavish restaurant on swift-heeled steps before your sputtering date could so much as lift a hand in protest.  

Which is what had now landed you firmly in your current predicament, within the confines of a cosy, well-known bar, not too far from where you’d started.  

Nursing a budding headache within the bitter notes of alcohol, to help ease at long fraught nerves. In between the ever-looming threat of Wanderers and the obstructive wrench thrown into your investigation into the Ever group, along with how busy work usually kept you, you were exhausted, suffice to say. The insignificant man tonight had just been the icing on this long-ruined cake.  

Tara’s suggestion; to put yourself out more and ‘let loose’ for a bit, had ended in mild regret in going along with it, in the first place.  

It had been far too long since you’d been in a relationship — let alone enjoyed a date with a man; your professional obligations kept you busy, coupled along with an extremely low desire to invest yourself into the dating pool, to wade and weed through to one that matched your wavelength.  

A flash of an alluring garnet gaze sparks through your mind’s eye in passing, at the thought, one you physically shake yourself out of.  

Now there was a man entirely on the spectrum opposite to your frequency. Your inability to resonate with him had only been just one of many failures toward mutual understanding.  

“Another one for you, Miss?” The bartender inquires; you’re nodding before you can think it through. 

“Yes, thank—” 

“She’ll have a mojito instead. The usual for me.” A deep, rich voice drifts at your back — before it scotches down, involuntarily and low into your belly — just as the large hand you feel slip across your shoulder in greeting. You close your eyes against the intrusion, hoping the hazy apparitions of your mind would gift you a damn break just once tonight; as if having had him conjured out of mere musings. You shudder.  

The alluring man at your side does not dissipate as you’d direly wished, seating himself down onto the stool next to yours, completely at leisure at having snuck into your space, unannounced once more. You hated how infuriatingly easy the Onychinus head found himself able to pervade your every space, along with each of your thoughts — the latter of which you did not wish to dissect apart tonight. Or, ever, if you had the choice.  

“What are you thinking of, with such a severe frown on your face?” He speaks, as if he does not know the exact reason for your irritation. “You’ll put a permanent knot in there if you don’t stop.”  

You choose to ignore him in lieu of offering a resigned nod to the bartender for the order Sylus had placed on your behalf. You could use a less inebriating drink now, especially so if you were to deal with the man beside you. 

“What’re you doing here, Sylus?” You sigh against the dredges of your last drink, letting the bitter liquid warm your throat.  

“Has the alcohol numbed your memory as well, sweetheart? We had an appointment, did we not?” Your respective orders are deposited in front, just as he moves to take the drink in between long, tapered digits, bringing it up to his mouth for a taste.  

The slow drag of his Adam’s apple against his throat as he drinks, tugs your gaze towards it — an involuntarily reflex you aren’t able to control. Sylus’ scarlet gaze canting sideways to capture yours is what finally has you wrenching away from the delectable sight, cursing your fast settling inebriation for the mis-step.  

He was an attractive man, your mind had long made begrudging peace with the fact, even if you’d both started off on an extremely wrong — horrid, actually — foot. And he’d proven himself to be a reliable companion, when the two of you had caused waves within N109’s criminal hub, in a quest for the Aether Core. His side of the bargain he’d kept, in exchange for your deal to forge a steady resonation with him. One you had no thoughts of reneging on, you’d keep your promise to him for the massive aid he’d provided. And yet, you could not help bemoan the fact that this very man confounded you, to your very core, to the point you weren’t sure what to make of his intentions. And yours.  

But surely, you weren’t this physically deprived that Sylus of all people was beginning to sprout this visceral a reaction from you?  

“And I texted you I couldn’t make it tonight, sweetheart.” You quip, pinching your forehead in between thumb and index. “This really isn’t the time, Sylus.”  

He raises a careful brow at you, and God help you, even that gesture is incredibly beguiling to your slushed brain.  

“And you couldn’t make it because” he prompts, tapered digits drumming against the marbled countertop. “you wished to spend your time out here, dressed to the nines, in a party of one?”  

“So what if I wanted to?” All your prickly response earns you is a discerning gaze, zoned in on you. You exhale hard through your nose, shoulders steeling to utter your next words. “Oh alright, I had a blind date tonight.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re divulging something this private to the man. 

The way his brows shoots in simmering surprise before they bunch in at his forehead in a frown is almost comical, you would’ve snorted at the expression he’s pulling if not for his next words. “So that’s what had that imbecile out there on your trail, lingering at the door for.” He scoffs. “You may not have enjoyed your date but you certainly got yourself a love-struck fool nipping at your heels, kitten.” 

“Wait, what?” Bewilderment wars cold within your mind at the disgusting revelation of the man tonight having possibly followed you and Sylus having caught him dead in the act. “What did you do to him?”  

“It’s fascinating how your first assumption is that I did anything to him.” His pleasant chuckle curls within your ears; a low, throaty burr. And when you give him one of your own looks, “Alright, don’t look at me so. Mephisto presumed you had a far dangerous stalker on hand than that sorry bastard, when he saw him lurking about you.” He swirls his glass of whiskey in between casual fingers. “I gave him some cordial talking to and sent him on his merry way.”  

A million queries hurtle within your mind — what did his “cordial talking to” ensue exactly? Why had Mephisto been trailing you? Why did Sylus feel the need to step in and personally take care of your potential stalker?  

You reach to take a swig of your own glass, feeling that headache pinching once more at your brow. “I don’t appreciate you having your silly crow keep tabs on me, Sylus. But,” Reluctant gratitude stirs at the tip of your tongue as your mind slowly processes the situation at hand. If it hadn’t been for Sylus’ interfering ways, you might’ve been saddled with a problem far worse than the infuriatingly suave Onychinus leader on your hands tonight. “Thank you for taking care of that creep for me, I guess. I appreciate it?”  

You think you catch the strains of barely there surprise within his gaze, along with an amalgamation of emotions you aren’t able to parse before they’re shuttered out of sight. Replaced with a cool smile, he angles at you. “The alcohol has you honest for a change, kitten. I can’t say I dislike it.”  

That infuriating remark has you almost wanting to take back your thanks, almost.  

“Your engagement for the night has scurried off home with his tail in between his legs, leaving you to your celebration of one.” His touch is a flitting, warm caress against the shell of your ear as he folds a stray lock of hair back in place. “Are you going to say why you’re out here by your lonesome yet, furiously downing liquor, instead of back in the safety of your house?”  

A gibe sits sharp across your tongue at his probing, wanting to tell him to back off and out of your business, he had no reason to be asking whether you chose to go out on a date or throw yourself a self-wallowing party, to let loose for one damn night. You weren’t even sure why Sylus pricked at your nerves the way he did — riling you up in the manner he did. Each single touch, every look fraught with meaning. He did and went as he pleased, without a care for what people made of him; self-assured as if the world itself, he held, in between those devious fingers. And he probably did too, his reputation one of absolute power within N109 Zone and without.  

That very same man — the one who’d told you he’d make full use of you, as you did him — perched atop a bar stool by your side, asking you a question that seemed devoid of his usual ribbing. And perhaps, it’s because of that one sole thought that you find your mouth moving — or simply, because the alcohol has sniped your inhibitions. “Tara’s been on my case lately, insisting I need to get laid to blow off some stress.”  

“Oh? That hunter girl with the bob, the very eager one.” Sylus looks immensely amused; your mind sifts through memories to recall how exactly Sylus knew her before it clicks: ah, the company retreat you’d stumbled into Sylus a few weeks back at. How could you ever forget? The day had been a nightmare.  

“The very one,” you blink. “Hence the failed date tonight and my immeasurable disappointment.”  

“Why? Were you planning on sleeping with that loser?”  

You shake your head at him, horrified at the mere thought. “No, it actually went as well as I was expecting it to. Bad, that is.” You take another enthusiastic swig of your drink, a modicum of clarity returning to your stuffed head. “The sorry state of the dating pool at large, for a hunter with limited time on her hands isn’t exactly stellar. Even less so for men who know what they’re doing. And my luck in that regard seems particularly disastrous.”  

In hindsight, you knew you were word vomiting your thoughts out at this point, with way too much candour than was appropriate for the situation, you’d regret it tomorrow perhaps — no, most definitely. But at the moment, underneath the glazed pleasant bubble of alcohol loosening your tongue and the enticement of an extremely alluring man, who had his entire attention focused upon you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.  

He huffs an amused half-laugh. “What sort of men have you been with exactly, kitten?” 

“Not that many.” You retort. “...Two and both during my schooling years, very briefly. I was a giddy teen, excited at the prospect of a loving boyfriend. Both their expectations from the relationship were obvious from a mile away, though.” You scrub a hand through the carefully primmed fall of your hair, not caring for the accessories you knocked askew. “God, I don’t think they even knew what to do with a woman, outside of getting their dicks wet.” You laugh at your own odd joke, tumbling within your brain.  

“It’s actually crazy how I’ve never had a man make me properly come in all my years—” Your words die within your throat at the realization of your horrifying admission.  

Surely, you’d thought them within your own mind and not just blurted your entire sob fest onto the man in front? A wretched sound of dismay leaves your throat at the inscrutable look upon Sylus’ face, shredding apart any sliver of hope you’d had that you had only been musing in thoughts.  

Gods, Tara was right, your idiotic self did need to get laid, you’d gone mad at long last. And made of yourself, a fool in front of the man you were begrudgingly attracted to. There was no coming out of this and you woed the fact that you’d even let yourself drink in the first place. 

“It does seem like your dating life has been rather disastrous up to this point.” Sylus responds, at last, insouciantly plucking his glass of whiskey off the counter for a swig, so at counterpoint to your rioting emotions.  

“Sylus.” 

“What is it?”  

You reach over, a hand securing about his broad shoulder, as you tip precariously close into the man’s space, plucking the glass straight out of his hands.  

“Hey—” Before darting back as far as you’re able, a feat Sylus did not think a woman even half-drunk was capable of.  

Taking a large gulp of the acridly strong liquor down your gullet, in a prayer to knock yourself out like you’d originally intended to before Sylus had walked in all over your small parade. Anything to blot your memory of the knowledge of your mortifying words to Sylus. But curling vines of red and obsidian are cleaving through your plans just as swift, one sliding about your waist to prevent your precipitous tilt upon the narrow stool while the other plucks the liquor clean out of your hands after a single pitiful swig.  

The swirls of misted red disappear just as furtively swift as they’d appeared once they have you righted upon the stool and out of harm’s way.  

A low sigh rings heavy above your head at your absurdity. “That’s enough. We’re leaving.”  

Affording you no room for feeble protests as he slips a cool palm around yours; long, thick fingers reassuring in between your own before he tows you away from the glittering inebriation of night life.  

Clarity from the merciful remnants of your intoxication is unwelcome tonight — like cool gunmetal pressed fast against your temple, siphoning the entirety of the alcoholic flush from your system. Having utterly failed at your attempts at getting hammered so you would’ve had at least an excuse to fake post drunken amnesia in the face of your shame tomorrow.  

Instead, here you were, deep within Zone N109 once more, incarcerated to the room Sylus had appointed temporarily as yours during your first visit to the place. One that had over time, turned into your housing and personal space, indefinitely, for whenever you happened to drop by on business with the Onychinus head. On business, you firmly reminded yourself. Even as the significance of the fact that Sylus had thought it fit to make space for you within his very own — his home — was not lost on you.  

You remembered trying to sweep a kick to the back of his shins, back at the bar, for having you bodily dragged out into the sobering night air and towards where his car awaited, parked by the curb.  

“Let go of me, you big brute.” Those vexing vines of red had curled about your leg mid-motion, tugging you up sharply before your world upended and you’d been tossed unceremoniously like a sodden sack of rice onto the broad expanse of one of his shoulders. You’d dug your nails into his back in punishing protest at his audacity.  

Earning yourself a derisive snort for your efforts. “Continue pawing at me like that and I’ll have you trussed next, kitten.”  

Your mouth had curled into a silent snarl, thumping futile fists against his solid back. “Try me.” 

“Don’t think I won’t.” He’d warned mildly before he’d continued on his merry way, wide stride that had barely faltered with your struggles.  

You sigh in defeat, scrubbing your palms down your face in recollection of the memory — your reflexive annoyance at his actions stemming more from your own mortifying situation than any real anger at him.  

He’d brought you back to his place, closer from where the bar was located, instead of back home, where the two of you risked running into any of your acquaintances, Xavier for one.  

And you couldn’t afford to let the people around you know of the Onychinus head — Sylus understood that instinctually, even if you did not speak of it. Content though he seemed to perpetually keep you in a state of life-threatening heart palpitations with his goading ways; absently recalling how Sylus had been Tara’s first man of choice for her date plan, owing to how he’d found it fit to barge in on their last team retreat.  

Shaking your head, you press a hand against your forehead as you move to wipe your body clean, having opted for one of the more comfortable outfits to change into for the night, you’d brought over from your place to his during one of your earlier visits — amusement sparking at you to witness how Sylus had thought it fit to buy you a couple new dresses, to add to your sparse collection, hanging within your wardrobe. As if you two were something more than acquaintances and professional partners.  

Your mind really seemed to have free reign over mad thoughts tonight.  

A knock resounds through the quiet of the room, effectively piercing your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” His familiar, welcome burr sounds from the other side of the door.  

“I am. Come on in.” The handle glides open, revealing Sylus standing in the doorway, having swiped his outerwear for a casual dark red button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the firm strength of his forearms; a sight you aren’t able to tear your ogling from, as he steps into the room. He closes the distance in between you in three easy strides. Crowding you within a room that feels too small and sweltering all of a sudden.  

“Feeling any better now?” His voice wrenches your gaze away from the sliver of skin revealed beneath the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened.  

You sigh, cursing at licentious thoughts. This man, in his incinerating, sensual entirety, frustrated you to no end. “I am, Sylus. Thank you.”  

“Good.” He hums. “Because you should stay awhile, a day or two at least.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I have to make sure that weasel you had tagged to you tonight doesn’t try getting too smart. Mephisto caught him lingering close to your streets after the whelp bolted following his wretched stalking attempt.”  

The revelation has nausea stirring at your gut; what had you gotten yourself into with that despicable creep? You were going to throttle Tara the next time you saw her.  

You sigh. “While that is disturbing behaviour and I’m grateful for the concern but I think I could’ve handled that idiot fine on my own.”  

A frown belts at his brow. “He’s a colleague from work, isn’t he? Despite his absolute spinelessness, that weasel is a trained Hunter with an authorized weapon on hand.”  

You raise a questioning brow at him, half inquisitive how exactly he knew your date happened to be a work acquaintance. Barely a few hours spent on his radar and the sorry fool already had all his information scraped and into the Onychinus head’s clutches. You did not envy his position, at the moment, massive creep though he was, having stood witness to how Sylus wiped his enemies clean out of existence. 

“Sure you’re capable, sweetheart, and your weasel is an idiot but do you want to be vigilant, glancing over your shoulder for a stalker, round the clock?” He pitches his head, waiting for your answer.  

His words give you pause, his reasoning not entirely without weightage. You mutter a quick curse underneath your breath, frustrated at how terribly disastrous tonight had turned out to be.  

Sylus’ smile quirks, taking your expletives for the affirmation they are. “And besides,” his hand shifts against your cheek, skimming a thumb down the curve of it, “you did enthusiastically mention your hazardous luck with dates. Might as well take care of this one before the vermin starts to fester.”  

A skitter of irked embarrassment bruises at your ego. “Are you making fun of me right now?” 

“Not in the slightest.” His thumb has switched towards your bottom lip, trekking a ghosting path across the swell of it. A different kind of emotion spurts within your chest along with the simmering annoyance, at his testing touch. “On the contrary, I was going to make an offer, one of mutual benefit.” His voice skims an octave lower and scotches deeper into your belly. “What do you say? Would you like to hear it?” 

His searing touch drifts down your chin, sweeping against your jaw. You’re unsure of the mesh of emotions that are surging through you at his evocative touch; indignation, surprise, reluctance... desire. You can barely focus on the words issuing from his mouth.  

“Well?” He prompts. “I don’t recall taping your mouth shut, sweetie.” His thumb returns to caress a path across your parted lips as if to make a point; a hushed throaty laugh leaving him at the hitch of breath that action elicits. He knows what he’s doing to you and he’s rousing you on purpose; the absolute scoundrel.  

“What’re you trying to say? Speak clearly, Sylus.” Your tongue darts forth to lap a quick path across the bottom of your lip; Sylus’ gaze rolling down your face to settle at your mouth when you do, a sudden simmer of heat flaring within blood-red.  “I despise riddles.” Another deep chuckle issues from his mouth, one that stirs into your belly without permission, much like the man himself.   

“What was it that you said earlier?” The tip of his thumb edges just past your lips. “Ah yes... you’ve never had a man make you come.”  

You flush at the recollection, cursing yourself for the umpteenth time tonight. You’d made a terrible mistake and you swore you’d never drink again, if it meant Sylus would just fucking drop it. Or you would, and the ground would swallow you whole. You’d confided a mortifying secret within a man who confounded you to no end.  

“So what?” A challenging grimace drags at your face, just as you sink a bite into his invading digit, hard. He does not so much as even flinch, his smile tugging wider instead. 

“What a spirited kitten I’ve lured into my hands.” He muses. “I like the face you’re making right now.”  

His eyes crinkle in at the corners, a mild thread of tenderness you think you catch streak through the simmering heat of his garnet gaze. It makes you want to turn away from the look, not wanting him to scrabble your heart any more than he has.  

“No,” A tapered index and thumb curve about your chin, firmly tempting your gaze back to him. “Don’t look away, keep your eyes on me.” 

And for that one instant, you listen. “My proposition is earnest, sweetie. Despite what your consensus may be, I’m quite fond of you, more so than you think.” Your breath snags in your throat at the admission; you’d be blind to not catch the clear insinuation in his words.  

His mouth skews into a smile. “Would you be averse to the idea of me showing you how it’s done?” He swipes at the swell of your bottom lip, his voice several octaves lower. Yes?” A sensual caress in the opposing direction. “No?” Your eyes flitter in hooded desire at the allure of his rich voice, scotching low into your belly to pool in between your clenched legs. 

You take a moment to inhale, slow, processing his words. Reaching a hand out to trace careful fingers against the strength of his jaw. “Do you realize the weight of what you’re implying, Sylus?” An inane question by all means. You’ve never known a man more self-assured in what he desires; you admit it’s rather arousing. 

“Oh, I do.” The distracting curve of his smirk pulls wider. “But do you, sweetheart?”  

Your fingers leave his face to drift across the open collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “You’ve been lodged in my mind for a long time.” You allow him a moment of that infuriating self-pleased smile. “Even without that pesky Evol of yours invading my skull.” Before you’re fisting his collar to rise on the tips of your toes to press your lips hard against that irksome, delicious mouth. 

Sylus’ hands curve about the give of your waist, fitting you firmer against the hard planes of him, without hesitance. He allows you free reign for a while before he chases your retreating mouth with his own, not sparing a moment of reprieve for the hungering breath you try and draw back into your lungs. His tongue slipping past your lips instead, granting you a taste and breath of what he alone affords you in that moment.  

Your hand flies to grip about the base of his neck, appreciating the firm musculature of his upper back that flexes beneath your touch when he moves to snare an arm about your waist. Fingers sinking harsh into your hip as he grinds you impossibly close to his body, siphoning the rest of your breath from your lungs.  

You’re near dizzy with the way his tongue licks into your mouth, tip teasing its way across the roof before it withdraws to slick a path against your wet bottom lip. You insist your grip harder against the back of his neck, dragging him back to you in the swelling smile he presses against your damp sighs — the drench of them flaming across your chest to pool low into your belly and settle deep in between your legs.  

Sylus lets out a low grunt against your skin — a sound that has your insides clenching in on desire — before his clutch upon the flare of your hip tightens, hand curving downwards about the swell of your ass before he lifts you up entirely on the strength of one firm muscled arm. The whimper you’re unable to tamp even against the aggression of his mouth, at his show of unrestrained desire.  

“Hold on tight now, sweetie.” He murmurs, sultry, against your lips. 

Sylus strides you both further into the room without breaking your kiss, the corded strength of his arm sturdy beneath your ass and you take that moment to appreciate what the position allows you access to, fully. Covetous fingers you run through the hair at the base of his neck to tug him into the kiss as you wish — his rewarding grunt in answer, warming your belly — against your mouth.  

Rushing down the buttoned line of his shirt, making quick work of undoing more of his buttons. A hand you slip past the edges of his shirt once the cloth against his chest is no longer impeding you, caressing your fingers against the hard planes of his pectorals. Sylus’ chuckle reverberates deep within your mouth, your fingers flexing into his shoulder at the sound. “Someone’s eager.”  

He stops at your bedside before he tosses you back onto the soft of your sheets. Not giving you the chance to even hoist yourself up on your arms before he’s towering over your body — crowded against his large frame.  

Chest heaving from the earlier stretch of your kisses and how he’d hurled you back onto the bed, you press a halting hand against his torso, playing at the lower buttons you weren’t able to undo earlier. Making hasty work of your remaining task before your fingers slide in welcome against the defined warmth of his abdomen.  

Your mouth parts in breathless wonder, eyes drinking him in voracious need, before they slip lower towards the straining length of his arousal through the placket of his pants — a sizeable bulge visible even through the pitch-black material. “Like you’re one to talk about being eager.” you quip, inquisitive digits dipping lower to ghost across the clothed length of him.  

His breath deepens at the touch, a thick chuckle slipping past his lips. “Point taken.” 

Your hand slips to curve against the swell of his cock above cloth, once more, feeling for the shape of him; larger than any you’ve had before, it sets a flitter of nervous anticipation into your chest. You want to see it, him.  

Sylus cocks his head at your inquisitive touches but doesn’t move to stop when your fingers work at the confines of his pants, until his arousal is far prominent beneath the remaining layer of his briefs. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight — he truly is big. Rather intimidating, entirely exciting.  

“Having fun?” He inquires, capturing your fingers in between long, tapered digits to bring them up to his mouth in a brushing kiss, a keen garnet gaze that refuses to relent from yours.  

“Yes,” you answer honestly.  

“That’s a good start.” He hums. “My turn.”  

Red and obsidian spiral about the length of your body, toying at the straps of your camisole, the edges of it at your belly before they’re dragging the material up across your body, and with the reveal of skin, Sylus’ eyes follow; the serrated intensity of his heated gaze, enough to have you try to squeeze your legs together on instinct to relieve some of the overbearing burn in between them.  

You can feel how mortifyingly wet you are, and yet in that moment, your mind cannot seem to muster shame.  

His thick fingers trail next across the waistband of your shorts — vined red making quick work of the ribboned bindings of the silken material before Sylus’ thumbs hook on either side, to drag your shorts and panties, torturously slow, down the plush of your thighs in one go.  

He’s hunching over to overshadow you entirely before you can make sense of it, face sinking close into the space in between your legs, hot gaze drinking in the sight of the thin strings of arousal that stretch from your pussy to your underwear before they bow and break into the sheets beneath. You watch him hum his approval, your head raised to observe the erotic picture he paints, in between your legs.  

A moan scratches free of your throat, your head falling back in shuddered pleasure when Sylus does not waste a single moment in ruining you; the broad pressure of his tongue you feel against the length of your quivering cunt as he swipes up a taste for himself before withdrawing once more.  

“Sylus.” You protest, fingers rushing to catch at his hair to pull.  

His gravelly laughter is devious against the inside of your thigh — so close to where you want him. “That’s a beautiful sound you’re making there, kitten.” He blows a hot breath against your centre, your pussy spasming at that bare action. “Let’s see if you’ve got any more of those for me.” 

“Sylus.” You try and let the irritation ring in your tone this time but all it sounds to your ears is a licentious plead.  

“I hear you, sweetheart.” He pulses a kiss against your outer folds. “I made you a deal, didn’t I?” He wrests his now loose shirt off his body before his touch returns to you once more, this time without the barrier of clothes in between you both.  

You're entirely vulnerable and naked underneath him, held to his mercies as his forearms flex about the pliance of your thighs as he hooks them about his broad shoulders. “You’re going to let me make good on my word tonight,” your legs spasm against his back — useless — as he keeps them held within steeled grips at your knees; large fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. “and witness it too, with your entire body.”  

You feel the corded, hard strength of the muscles of his back flexing beneath the heels of your feet as Sylus ducks closer to your slit to suck at the pleasured bead of your apex. Your hips fly up on instinct at that first brush of stimulation, a moan crippled free of your lips. His smug smile you feel buried against your pussy when it gushes further against the skewed stretch of those lips.  “And you know I never renege on an agreement once made.” 

Your thoughts blank entirely the next time that adroit tongue lands against your drenched folds, his mouth swallowing you up entirely as he works at your slick with all the practised propensity of a devil set to wrecking you within your sheets.  

You’ve never had a man’s mouth down there before; you didn’t quite think it were possible to feel anything remotely close to what he was doing with your body at the moment.  

Sparks of jolting pleasure thrum throughout the length of your body, you’re not even fully aware of how hard you buck against his mouth. How Sylus thwarts each unconscious attempt of escape by dragging your pussy back to his mouth each time you squirm from the overwhelming sensation.  

His growl of pleasure is what drags part of your hazy attentions back to how white knuckled your grip is within his hair, tugging at the strands as if they were your sole lifeline to sanity. And you were beginning to suspect they were.  

Sylus’ knuckles brush against your tightened clit, knocking a groan of pleasure out of your throat. “You’re so wet.” He hooks a thick, tapered index up into your walls, clenching at his filthy words. “That’s it, sweetheart, keep doing that for me.” His laughter is a deep, hoarse sound. “I’m going to take all you’ve got for me.”  

He laps a path up against the junction of your thigh; a second finger teasing at the rim of your slit before it joins the first, in a slick easy slide.  

“Sylus,” You’re no longer caring; to your sounds, to the fact you’re dripping enough you’ve wet the sheets beneath his thrusting fingers. “Oh God, don’t stop. O-oh. God.” Not caring for the slight twinge of heat that sparks with the roll of your head to catch Sylus watching your entire downfall from in between the space of your legs; fervid scarlet gaze fixated to yours, the bow of your mouth in a constant, pleasured O curve as moans of senseless appreciation and babbled curses tumble from it. Even as his tongue laps a languid path against your outer folds, at screeching odds to the deft fingers he works into you.  

“Yes,” his growl is vehement, pleased. “Scream louder, no one’s going to hear you mewl down here, kitten. Let go.” The squelch of your arousal is loud within your ears, the pads of his terrifyingly nimble digits lighting up nerves against that one spongy spot deep within you that has stars wheeling within your wide gaze.  

And just as you think this is how he’s going to end you — the pinnacle of pleasure — he betrays your expectations once more with the hot slide of his tongue back against your clit. You nearly sob at the stimulation, a silent scream clawing up your bruised throat at how close you feel to breaking.  

“I-If you—” your words are garbled, hard to breathe. You're so, so close to a peak you’ve never fallen off of, in this manner before. “—I’m... hah, going to come.” Never had your own toys or hand or even another human, scrabbled your brains out this hard; a height so vehemently approaching, you’re afraid to fall. 

Sylus seems to understand you even through your incoherent babbling, stretching you open on his fingers in harder thrusts. “Then do it. Come on my tongue, darling.”  His mouth sucks the abused flesh of your clit deep into his mouth. A peak so in sight, you hurtle into it, your pussy spasming about his fingers, his mouth so hard, you’re near thrashing your limbs about the broad strength of his shoulders. Sylus creeps a hand beneath your ass, to lift your back and shove up deeper against his mouth as you sob out his name in senseless prayer.  

“That’s it, you’re so hot like this, you know that, kitten?” His guttural words, muted within your pussy and lost through the white daze of your prolonged orgasmic haze. Sylus continues to lap at you until you’re tumbling into buzzing overstimulation; the heavy weight of him like iron fetters at your legs as you weakly push at his face, his steeled shoulders in whimpered protest.  

“I— give me a break, Sylus.”  

He affords you a modicum of mercy, glistening mouth and chin withdrawing to rise from between the confines of your legs to fix a skewed grin at you. And when you meet his gaze, he makes a deliberate, erotic show of sweeping the broad of his tongue, slow, feral, against the edge of his upper lip.  

His fingers maintain their languid position still within your sensitive walls, each measured thrust has you shivering against the intrusion.  

You cup a hand about his strong neck, dragging him down towards your mouth. His voice low, heated in between the taste of yourself he sweeps into your mouth. “Enjoying yourself?” 

You secrete a hushed sound of approval against his exploring tongue. “I’ve never come this hard in my life,” you confess, breathless. “You’re crazy.”  

“I’ll take that as an enthusiastic compliment.” Knocking that smug grin of his only wider. And then, a softer whisper settles against your wet mouth. “You’re so good for me, sweetie. You drive me insane.”  

You withdraw from him to catch the simmering heat of his fervid desires and affection commingled within that scarlet gaze you’re so taken with. Sweeping a thumb at the clinging wetness of arousal, against the angle of his jaw, you marvel at the sensual sight he paints. “...I’m no different.” You meet his gaze, your honesty heavy on your tongue. 

He chuckles at the confession, canting his head to catch the plush of your thumb against his teeth, worrying at the flesh as he laves it up into his mouth on an obscene suck.  

The way he looks at you has arousal flushing anew within your cheeks; your insides clenching in on the fingers that languorously thrust into you, stretching you open. Lashes nearly trembling shut when his thumb traces a whispered touch against your clit before withdrawing, having your hips juddering up into his hand.  

Restless digits quiver down the length of his sculpted torso, working at releasing him from the rest of his un-wanted clothing; cut, well-tailored pants you’d more than once found yourself admiring him in but at the moment, you couldn’t survive a second longer without uncovering the entirety of his captivating body to your gaze. Sylus gently pulls out of your pussy to help you along, thick fingers running along yours at his buckle to slide is smooth out its confines before his Evol curls about the belt to toss it easy, at the side of his bed. His pants and briefs follow soon after and you nearly choke at the sight of him revealed at last to your gaze. 

Sylus’ cock is a devastating thing of beauty; thick and intimidating enough it has you salivating at the mere sight of it. You’ve never seen a man this big, blessed in both length and girth, it has your cunt clenching in on need at the sight of him. You wonder how he’d feel against your tongue if you tried taking him in, parched lips you wet with a swipe of tongue, parting at the thought.  

“Like what you see?” His self-pleased words wrench you out of your self-imposed stupor until you see that smug grin painting his face too. Your fingers delicately curve about the girth of him in a gentle squeeze; has grin falling open in a low, breathy laugh of arousal.  

Your fingers unable to wrap him up entirely within a fist, even as you stroke a slow, steady path up across his length. “You’re right,” you murmur in wanton desire. “I do like what I see.”  

“Such an honest tongue.” he groans low, in pleasure at your languid ministrations. Hooking a thumb at your bottom lip to tease it into your mouth and onto the wet muscle.  

“Honesty isn’t the only thing it can provide, you know.” You bait, in breathless, risqué whispers around the intrusion of his thumb in your mouth, sucking at him in imitation of what you truly desire from him. 

Sylus hums a pleased sound, withdrawing his finger to sweep it across your swollen lips. “Later.” He silences your protests with the wet ingress of his digits back into your walls. “You’ll have me, you have my word. But right now...” Your broken moan mingles with the guttural sigh that tumbles from his lips to witness your face shatter in pleasure. “we’re here to see how good I can make you feel, aren’t we, kitten? So, lay back.” He eases the flat of his palm in between your breasts to push. “And watch how else I ruin you tonight.” 

You moan at his filthy threat of a promise, hips rolling into the fingers he’s pressed into you, their rhythmic propulsions turning faster with each moment until he has your crest building once more. 

“Sylus.” you gasp out, fingers spasming around the wrist buried in between your quaking legs. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He draws down closer, body crowding yours against the sheets, the heat of his breath sultry against your sweat soaked skin. You feel the weight of his arousal ghost a searing path against your thigh and jump at the stimulation. 

“You.” you plead. “I need you so stop teasing me now, Sylus. I’ll—” 

His lips capture yours in an incendiary kiss, a violent clash of tongue, drinking your startled mewls up into his own as his fingers curl about the back of your head to hold steady underneath his assault. “You sure you’re ready for it?” He rolls his hips against yours once more in emphasis, making you shiver underneath the intimidating heat of his arousal. 

“I am, I can take it.” you insist against his wet tongue. “And even if I can’t, you promised you’d show me how good it can get, didn’t you?” You shiver. “So quit edging me any longer and put it inside me.” Your back arches in need at a particularly adept press of his fingers. “Sylus.” 

His answering groan at your fervent desires burns you higher, his soaked fingers dragging out of your clenching walls. “You really do know how to rile me up, don’t you, sweetheart?” Large hands settle about the swell of your hips as Sylus presses himself in between your legs. Letting the head of his cock, at long last, stroke at the wetness of your cunt, gathering moisture on to it. So close. 

His hips undulate in languid pleasurable strokes in between the fall of your legs, and each time the flared head of his cock bumps up at the tight bead at your apex, your hips try and jump against the caged strength of his hands holding you down. Every single stroke — up, down — has your breaths turning laboured in need, each single time he brushes down close to your hole, you clench in on instinctual emptiness, wanting to pull him deeper into you.  

“Some restraint, kitten. We don’t want you too overwhelmed too fast.” A low sound of disapproval soughs past his lips at your squirming. “Impatience is not a good look on a Hunter of your repute.” 

Your mouth falls open on a silent groan; hooking a leg about the snatch of his waist, you try and urge him into you. Earning an amused, guttural laugh for your efforts. “You’ve had me plenty ready. You’re just baiting me at this point.” 

“But you like me being this way, don’t you?” And God help you, if your brain wasn’t entirely mushed at what he’s done to you, you would’ve tried refute his observations with a lie of your own. But in this moment, you let him have his victory.  

Sylus curves a palm about the crook of your leg, fingers ghosting the underside of sensitive skin, up, until his hold catches at your knee. Keeping you fixed firm down onto the bed with the other, while he rolls his hips against you once more. “Keep holding tight,” he taps at your knee hooked at his back one last time before his hand drifts to curl about the base of his cock, pressing more of your slick up against the bulbous head.  

The first breach of him burns you open in pleasurable bliss, you hiss at the intrusion, back arching on instinctual chase of the man you’re so drunk on. Just the head in has you dizzy around him, grateful for the anchor of his large hand holding you grounded, at your hip.  

More of his member pushes past your rim; Sylus’ grunt of pleasure breaking in the tight scrunch of his brow in concentration. A thumb flits about your pinched bottom lip, end to end, before he’s coaxing it open with a firmer press of the pad of his digit against it. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.” You don’t think your body is capable of drawing air in at all but you try and trudge past the closure of your throat, gulping in a few, needed breaths. “That’s it, yeah, take me in. Slowly now.”  

It’s only when your body shudders underneath his with the ingress of almost his entire length settled into you do you realize the sheer, unyielding size of him inside, Sylus’ throaty groan of arousal, he bites into the sensitive skin of your wrist he’s had curled in between thick digits. Your cunt feels stretched impossibly wide around the shape of him, in a manner that has you whimpering on his next few testing strokes up into your walls. Sending him curling impossibly deep on each long, heavy thrust up into you until you feel him nudging, as if at the very ends of you.  

Your head rolls in restless need across the down of your pillows, your fingers skittering up the length of his arms, sinking harsh into the taut muscles of his biceps. Angry crescents you’re sure you’re marking into the skin but all it seems to do to him is make him push into you with greater need, approval heavy in the fervid grunts that issue from his mouth.  

One of his hands steals beneath your body to press in between your shoulder blades, guiding your body deeper against his as his hips piston into you. The wet squelch of your arousal heavy in the space, commingling with your damp, thick groans.  

Sylus withdraws from your body on his next slide, nearly all the way out, before he pulses back, slick, without resistance; each time, your body taken by the pleasant shock of how fully he sheathes himself into you, the stretch sending you into a dizzying spiral of mounting need.

And despite it all —  the hazy pleasure, his long, deep strokes into you — your ravenous body needs this man closer, a desire you aren’t able to word coherently. 

Sylus’ diligent handling of you — although, a gesture appreciated — is not what you require of him in the moment. He’s your first in so, so long; desires shuttered in since forever, along with the intense need to be thoroughly loved over by this man; your need to have him fuck you without restraint, after a heart so long spent in warring against its yearning for him, overflowing off the cusp of your poor control. Manifesting in the fingers you rush about the angled cut of his hips to squeeze, your legs tightening their hold at the back of his waist to pull deeper inside.  

Your eyes meet his in fevered haze; a slip of your tongue to drench parched lips, falling open to voice your desires before Sylus’ face crowds your vision. His mouth pulsing a quick kiss of violence against yours, it siphons your entire breath from your lungs at the aggressive curl of his tongue into you. “Alright,” he utters on a wet, hoarse whisper against your lips. No more questions, no more unsurety. “I’ll give you what you need.”  

He’s gingerly worked himself into you up to the near base of him when large hands move to grip on either side of your abdomen, the pads of them pulsing into the pliance of your skin — heated scaffoldings of flesh. Heralding the slow, squelching withdrawal of his cock from your depths up to the tip. Until Sylus plunges back into you with a force vehement enough you see stars white the scape of your vision with the audible slap of hips meeting the back of your ass.  

And it isn’t until he starts driving into you in that punishing pace, manoeuvring your body as if you were a mere doll meant to house his cock do you realize with primal joy that you love how he’s taking you. You’re delirious on the feeling of his cock ramming up into your walls — the massive stretch of him, each single inch of hot, unyielding flesh — hard enough he’s driving you up the sheets, your voice you do not realize is a shrill scream of pleasure.  

Everything — you, him, your hot, clenching insides around him — is all too much, all of a sudden, you’re drowning in the ecstasy of the feeling of him overwhelming your senses.  

And the man above, an unfettered beast; he folds you deeper into the mattress with the ardent swing of his hips, large hands gripping hard onto your waist as he guides your own weak thrusts back onto his cock with ferocious precision. Each single glide of the swollen head of his cock dragging him deliciously against that one spot inside that has you quivering apart around him. A deliberate assault of your sweet weakness. Truly, he knows your body as if he’d had you before several times already; the thought is as exhilarating as it is terrifying, having your pussy spasm around him on instinct, dragging a vicious growl out of him that has you whimpering at the sound.  

The sweat slicked concentration and fervid arousal that knits at his powerful brows is addictive, the heated flush of pleasure and effortless exertion — all of him an erotic sight, meant to throttle you into finishing ruin. The violent tatters of your orgasm you feel crumpling within your belly, fast approaching.  

You try and buck against his hips faster, pace paling in comparison to the near bestial propulsion of his cock into your depths. Sylus groans at a particularly harsh squeeze of your cunt; a hand leaving your waist to feather his knuckles against the drenched slide of sweat and tears at your cheeks you know are ruddy in desire. “You’re taking me so well, kitten, so deep inside that small body.” You might’ve offered a word of approval if your throat wasn’t so swollen from the breathless moans and ruinous pleas he’s knocking out of you instead. “You’re clamping so hard around my cock. Do you not want to let me go?” His large hand drifting against the lower stretch of your abdomen, before he presses the flat of his palm in deep, as if he could feel for the place his cock pounds up as if against your very womb, angling his hips to brush at the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex and you nearly weep at the tight stimulation.  

“C-Clo—” is all the words your battered throat can manage out before your head’s falling back against the pillows, tear-strained gaze blown wide with the unrelenting intensity of his pillage of your body.  

But Sylus groans in approval, understanding of your broken prompts. “I’ve got you. Let that pretty pussy of yours weep more for me, sweetheart.” 

You moan unabated at the filth that issues from his lips, your body immediately moving to obey his instruction in the spasm of your walls.  

His hand slides against the length of your hooked leg to hoist it up and over a broad shoulder as his large frame arches over you, nearly folding you in half. The new angle driving each of his wild thrusts hard against your swollen clit. Your back nearly snapping with the force of its curve up towards him with your next shrill scream of his name. “What a perfect, perfect girl for me.”  

You're no longer coherent, a garbled speech and cotton head your constant companions — only dimly aware of the muted sounds of wood striking against concrete walls as Sylus drives your body violently up against the headboard. The distant absence of pain you only realize is possible when your cheek curls sideways to sink against the simmering warmth of the red and obsidian mesh of his Evol, keeping your head pillowed against the strength of his thrusts.  

His face descends towards you, a thick hand easing beneath sweat soaked locks to grip at your neck, holding firm for the ravenous mouth that plunders yours, choking your moans against his tongue. Your spit trails useless past swollen lips, Sylus’ tongue immediately following a broad path against your jaw, your chin to lick at the combined essence of sweat and spit. His guttural moan at the taste, sending you nearly into your orgasm, so close at hand, you’re spasming useless about the great length of him. 

Long, tapered digits flex about the delicate expanse of your neck, coaxing your pleasure-drunk gaze up towards his.  “The way you’re looking right now...” You catch the flex of his other arm at the corners of your vision as it slinks in between your bodies. “a man could get addicted, sweetie.” His thumb presses against the abused bead of your apex in that instant, knocking a scream free of your parched throat, body arching in the slick slide of your breasts pressed flush against the broad planes of his chest. Even that stimulation at your nipples is too much; the heat in between your legs tempered to an inferno.  

The precise, perfect strikes of his cock into your walls, along with the insistent pinch and press of your clit in between adroit index and thumb has your crest rising. White hot heat undulates through your entire body. The merciless sting of a delicious bite you feel Sylus sink at your straining neck, right beneath your jaw, “Come for me now, sweetheart,” accompanying the hammering thrusts of his cock, his thumb at your bundle of nerves is what finally has you ripping apart on an orgasm so intense your gaze blanks entirely.  

Jaw falling open on a shriek so unlike yours, you do not recognize the sound of your own battered voice until Sylus presses two thick digits into your slack mouth to toy at your wet tongue as if he could capture that sound for himself. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His pace unrelenting through the violence of your orgasm, stretching your own peak so long, spasming about the wet heat of him until Sylus’ hips too stutter as he finds his release into your welcoming depths.  

Pulse after pulse of ejaculate so abundant, hot, it drives you into another release — or perhaps, you’d never even stopped coming — a pinnacle so high, your fall from it is prolonged, pleasurable. Your mouth sucking hard at his fingers, willing them to serve your anchor.  

Sylus’ gaze meets yours from across the small pocket of space in between your faces, heated and stifled with your breaths. Scarlet eyes, simmering, pupils blown so wide in low settling arousal as the two of you breathe deep in unison. Several moments of reprieve, you allow your bodies as you come down from your highs.  

A small part of you distantly realizes a single session with Sylus has effectively ruined you for life and you’re unsure if you’re bemoaning the fact or thrilling in delight at it. You think you just might be far more infatuated with this infuriating man than you’d initially thought and the notion of being this adoring of him mildly terrifies you. Just as the sliver of tenderness that threads through that garnet gaze as he pushes back sweat soaked strands from your face to study you. “You alright there, sweetie?”  

You can’t deny it any longer. “Never been better.” you wheeze past a sore throat. And God help you, the grin that skews at his beautiful mouth at your answer has your heart refusing to settle into rest, even after your mind-numbing release.  

“That good, was it?” You do not have the energy to refute him, settling for a light slap at his bicep. 

His arms flex about your body before he rolls you both over. Releasing himself, slow, from your depths — you groan weakly at the muted stimulation before he hoists himself onto his arm.  

You reach a hand forwards, curving it about his face, thumb sketching at the angle of his jaw. “Stay with me tonight.” you ask of him quietly.  

Mild surprise flickers within blood-red garnet before it’s replaced by the tender quirk of a strong brow. “Didn’t plan on leaving, sweetheart.” He tips his head further into the crook of your palm, pulsing a quick kiss onto the skin. “Sleep tight, now. Your eyes are glazing over.” 

And for that one moment, you listen, letting the warmth of his engulfing embrace shepherd you into dreams of scarlet eyes and amused smiles — the only ones you’ve been able to think about for a long time now. 

End Notes: Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @chocomii-chan

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

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[mask131]

I want to briefly adress another BIG misconception about Greek gods that has (quite recently) been going on around the Internet. And it is again part due to the Percy Jackson TV show. I insist on the "TV show", because as we now know, the TV show made some changes to the book's original plotline when it came to the gods interacting with their children (like Athena's move with Echidna *cough cough*), and as a result here is what I have been hearing here and there.

"Yeah, well the Greek gods were all assholes, right, but what PJ REALLY got right was that they were especially assholes to their own children and the worst abusive parents ever".

... No?

In fact this is almost a counter-interpretation of Greek mythology, because in Greek myths and legends, the whole point was that, when a god was being an "asshole" as you say, they were an asshole to everybody... except their children. One of the reasons the Greek gods can look "bad" by modern standards is precisely because they had an habit of favorizing their own children, and taking care about them more than about other beings.

The most famous of these myths is of course Demeter's immense love and hyper-protection of Persephone - just look at the trials she went through to find her back after she disappeared.

Another famous example is how Poseidon turned on Odysseus and plagued him with curses and monsters for blinding his son - Polyphemus the cyclop (and the whole point here is that Poseidon favorized his son, despite his son being the actual criminal and monster in the case)

Ares, who was not one of the best gods, still went on an avenging mode every time his children were attacked, from the dragon slain by Cadmos to the rape of Alcippe.

There's how Apollo went berserk after the death of Asclepios. There's how Herakles had planned to be favorized by Fate since his birth thanks to Zeus, and how the entire reason Zeus inflicted on his wife the atrocious torture of hanging chained up by the sky was because he had enough of her constantly tormenting Herakles in the worst ways possible. Even Athena ended up taking care of Erichthonius as her own child despite her not being his true mother - showing that even the virgin, sexless, childless goddess has a mothering side to her.

It all goes back to Gaia, and how she keeps turning against Zeus for each time vanquishing her children - from the Titans, to the Giants, to Typhon - despite these children being again, bad news and even hurting Gaia herself. Another example of "primordial motherhood": Nyx shelters Hypnos from Zeus' wrath in the Iliad, and not even Zeus would dare anger such an elderly mother-goddess. And if we push beyond the boundaries of Greek mythology and into the very late Roman literature, we see this trend continues with Aphrodite's smothering-mothering of Eros during the Psyche legend.

A good lot of conflicts and feuds and problems in Greek mythology was precisely due to how much the gods loved their children, and how protective they were of them - with the problem that the god had the tendency to be blind to whether their children were good or evil, victims or criminals.

This is why, for example, Zeus and Hera's relationships to their children were especially important and unique in Greek myths, in the light of this god's tendency to favorize and spoil and protect their own children.

On Hera's case, her action of, for example, throwing Hephaistos into the sea at birth just because he is "ugly" is meant to come off as massively shocking. Remember that in a good bunch of Greek myths, Hera had a negative, evil, dangerous side to her, that popped up in various ways - from her jealous, vain, angry personality to how in some versions she literaly gave birth to Typhon... Unlike Zeus, who was the "ultimate father", Hera wasn't (in myths, I insist) seen as a postive mother, and was more of a mother-of-monsters avatar (after all, she did command a lot of Greek monsters), or an anti-mother (she was the one who prevented Leto from giving birth, a powerful symbol).

On the other side, Zeus was also seen regularly punishing or being very harsh to his children, but there was the secret to his character: Zeus had to act both as a father, and as a king. He embodied the all loving ancestor and the all powerful father, but he also had to act as the embodiment of law and of justice, and those two aspects of his personality clashed a lot. We see him punish his divine children regularly, but almost always because his role as the enforcer of the law primed over his role as a father - for example when he wanted to throw Apollo into Tartarus because he had caused a Cyclop genocide out of anger. But he still had this same "over-parenting" side as the other gods. Again, Herakles was one of his favorite children and he tried to arrange everything so that he could have the greatest life ever - but his official side as the "political" and "civilization" god caught up to him when Hera tricked him into swearing away the gifts he had intended for Herakles. Despite Zeus' immense love for his son, his oath and the law he embodies took over and prevented him from sheltering Herakles from Hera's hatred. The most revealing case of this "father vs king" aspect of Zeus' personality comes from the Iliad: it is the death of Saperdon.

When Zeus looks upon the Trojan War and sees that his son will soon die, he is very heavily tempted from interfering. He explicitely wishes to save him, and to change the scales of fate to avoid his impending death (because remember in the Iliad Zeus was still the god of fate who literaly weighed humans' destinities in his scale). That's his "father" side showing up. But then Hera, who is by his side, who is his queen and thus his "political" side, reminds him of his duty as a king and of his role as ultimate judge of the world and ruler of the gods. She points out he would break the very own law he imposed of not interfering with the mortal conflict. She reminds him that, as the setter of examples, if he saved Sarpedon, he would create a precedent and other gods could also start saving their own children from the war. She reminds him that he has a role as the god of law and fate, and that he can't allow his personal feelings to interfere in the matter, else he would be unfair and unjust. And thus, Zeus resignates himself to let his son die before his eyes - but he still shows his immense love for him by both sending a shower of blood as a sign of his grief, and then ordering Apollo, Hypnos and Thanatos in person to carry Sarpedon's corpse away (predating future legends about great kings and heroes taken into the afterlife by supernatural figures, like Arthur collected by Morgan and the ladies of Avalon).

In conclusion: having the gods act as if they were all bad, abusive, absent parents not getting involved in their children's life or not caring about them is actually going against what the mythology originally said in terms of characterization. The untold rule of Greek mythology was that, if gods were bad parents, it would be because they were too loving, too protective, too smothering, too spoiling, interfering too much. Not the other way around - unless you were Hera, of course. Meanwhile, having the gods act as "assholes" and bullies towards OTHER GODS' children, now that would be accurate to Greek mythology (this is the very basis of Hera's cycle of legends as a persecuting goddess). But the gods usually stuck by the side of their own children - a bit like how in a school's football or soccer game the parents end up fighting each other because of what their children did or did not do in the game.

[cynthiav06]

I have been living with this headcanon/brainrot about Athena (both from Epic the Musical and pjo) for a long while and a warning for the faint of heart, you know what read it anyway cause it haunts me , so everyone else has to be haunted by it too, cause I am petty like that.

Most people might be aware of the myth that Athena sprung from Zeus's head fully formed and in battle armor, but a few might not know the preceding myth, so here's a quick recap:

Zeus married the titaness Metis, who was the titaness of wise counsel, wisdom, and planning. She was also Athena's mother. Metis was his advisor, both an indispensable aid and threat to him, given her power and cunning. But it's no Greek mythology without a son overthrowing the father archetype haunting the narrative. There was a similar prophecy about Metis's second child being so powerful that he would overthrow Zeus. Mind you Metis was pregnant with Athena when the following events transpire:

Zeus being Zeus, paranoid and power hungry, the King of the Gods and the God of "Justice" manipulates Metis into playing a shape-shifting game and when Metis turned into a fly , he swallowed her whole. [I know Greek patriarchs have a thing for eating their children or spouses pregnant with said children. Runs in the family, apparently]

Mind you in Greek myths, swallowed children, or in this case, swallowed wife pregnant with said child stay alive for a good amount of time even inside someone else's organs. So Metis gives birth to Athena inside Zeus's head and raises her there. She teaches her warfare and strategy until Metis herself eventually dies, i.e., her essence fades. Knowing what she must do to not meet the same fate, Athena hammers on Zeus's skull from the inside to escape. Everyone knows the rest of the myth.

But imagine Athena's first lesson being that the man she calls her father is the one who killed her mother and almost killed Athena herself by swallowing Metis so she must do everything in her power to survive and avoid that fate by staying on his good side. To try and fit in this twisted family of immortals, half of who hate her existence and half who are indifferent to him. So she does exactly that.

Think of Athena asking to be a Virgin Goddess from learning of what comes of marriage with gods.

Now, the continuation of Athena's myth is that she goes to Atlantis to train with the sea nymphs. There she makes her first ever friend and someone she comes to dearly love, Pallas. Greek myths being allergic to happy endings, one day when Pallas and Athena are sparring as they do a bit more seriously this time; Zeus being a nosy bastard decides to spy in just when Pallas is about to land a finishing blow on Athena. Thinking she might kill his daughter, he kills Pallas by blasting her with his lightning. Athena, being heartbroken , Zeus gave her Aegis as an apology. The continuation of this is that Athena adopts the namesake Pallas Athena and even carves a statue in likeness of her friend called Palladium and then more.

But think of Athena heartbroken and bitter as the Goddess of Wisdom learns her second lesson, then she must abandon all personal relations and sentiment before her father ends it for her in one way or another. For Pallas was the first true relation in her life after her mother.

Keep in mind that Pallas is Poseidon's granddaughter through his firstborn son and heir Triton. This is the point that sparks eternal enmity between Athena and Poseidon, and all those who come after will suffer in the wake of this tragedy.

So Athena chooses to remain alone and without a friend to avoid such a situation. Imagine Athena being hurt, especially brutally, when Odysseus says: "Since you claim you are so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone? You're alone!"

Because that's exactly it. Athena is wise. She knows the consequence of endearing herself to someone again so she stays alone to avoid such a thing and yet coming from someone who is so close to being her first friend in a long time, hurt and enraged she leaves.

Now, when finally Athena comes to terms with her friendship with Odysseus she finds yet again that her father Zeus struck him and his crew in a similar fashion to Pallas , yet again ripping her only friend away from her .

He is not dead yet, and Athena isn't about to let that happen. This time, she fights against Zeus, risks her life and position of being the favorite, and her survival method all because she can't bear to see Odysseus die.

Think of the agonizing fate of Athena, repeatedly being traumatized by her father yet having to do his bidding and stay on his good side to survive and live not for herself for she lives in misery but for the people who suffered for died for their association with her. In her eyes, she must suffer tenfold for letting this happen thrice, for all eternity under the man who so wretchedly ruined her life.

[recents]

so we all know astarion was named after the minotaur of greek myth, who, despite widely known as the minotaur (“bull of minos”), was named astarion/asterion (“starry one”) by his mother at birth. asterion the minotaur was trapped in a labyrinth and cursed to devour virginal men and women thrown in there as sacrifices.

”The House of Asterion” is a 1947 short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges that retells the story of the minotaur from the minotaur’s point of view. it’s one of his best early short stories and it’s very short, only 3 pages long. you can read it here.

borges is in my top 3 favorite writers of all time, and “The House of Asterion” obviously deserves to be considered on its own merits, so i feel slightly irreverent connecting this text to a recent video game. but i reread this short story today and there was much to think about, there were many more seeds planted in my mind in terms of interpretations of the minotaur myth and how asterion the minotaur relates to the story of astarion the vampire. i think it will for you, too.

anyway. if you don’t click through and read it, please at least read how it ends, remembering, of course, that the speaker is asterion the minotaur:

:)

[ltwilliammowett]

Ekke Nekkepenn - the merman

In short, Ekke Nekkepenn is a merman who lives with his wife Rahn at the bottom of the North Sea and plays pranks on sailors and inhabitants of the North Frisian islands.

The best-known realisation of the Ekke-Nekkepenn myth today can be traced back to Christian Peter Hansen, who condensed and reshaped various sagas from the North Frisian region into his own continuous narrative in his Sagen und Erzählungen der Haidebewohner auf Sylt (Sagas and Tales of the Haide Inhabitants on Sylt), published in 1858. The first section of this tale is entitled ‘Der Meermann Ekke Nekkepenn’.

The story begins with Ekke Nekkepenn asking the wife of the captain of a Sylt ship sailing to England in a storm for help with the birth of her child. The beautiful and helpful captain's wife is led by the mariner to his wife Rahn, who lives at the bottom of the North Sea, and returns to the surface after a successful birth, richly endowed with gold and silver. The skipper and his wife are able to continue their journey in fine weather and later return safely and soundly to their home in Rantum on Sylt.

Many years later, Ekke Nekkepenn remembers this incident and decides - in view of the fact that Rahn has become ‘old and wrinkled’ in the meantime - to take the captain's wife as his wife instead. One day, when he spots the Rantum captain's ship, he persuades Rahn, who is sitting on the bottom of the sea, to grind salt, and the Sylt skipper and his crew perish in the resulting strong whirlpool.

On his way to the captain's wife, Ekke Nekkepenn, who has transformed himself into a handsome sailor, meets her virgin daughter Inge on the beach near Rantum. Against her will, he puts a golden ring on each of her fingers, hangs a golden chain around her neck and declares her his bride. When the girl tearfully begs him to release her, he replies that he can only do so if she can tell him her name the next evening. But nobody on the island knows the unknown stranger. As Inge walks along the beach again in despair the next evening, she hears a voice singing from the mountain at the southern tip of the island near Hörnum:

Today I shall brew; Tomorrow I shall bake; The day after tomorrow I want to get married. My name is Ekke Nekkepenn, My bride is Inge von Rantum, And nobody knows that but me alone.

She then runs to the agreed meeting place and calls out to the stranger arriving there: ‘Your name is Ekke Nekkepenn and I'll stay Inge von Rantum.’ Ever since that time, the man of the sea, who has been coerced in this way, has harboured a great rage against the islanders of Sylt and is always up to mischief when he feels like it. He destroys their ships in storms, causes them to sink in Rahn's maelstrom and damages the Sylt coastline with the tides he unleashes.

This myth is particularly prevalent on Sylt itself, because as soon as it storms, Ekke is said to be angry and he is once again angry with everyone.

It is not entirely clear what the myth itself is based on, but it is clear that Hansen has worked with two things: Nordic mythology and its sea god Ögis or Ekke as he is called in Frisian. In his ‘Materials for a Frisian Mythology’, published in 1850, Hansen writes: ‘The god of the sea was called Ögis by the Germans, Eiger by the Danes, Eie or Eia by the Frisians, also Ekke or Nekke. […] His wife was the goddess Ran, who blessed the beach, pulled the shipwrecked into her nets and after whom the old beach and dune village of Rantum was perhaps named. Incidentally, in Norse, Rane means to rob. According to a Frisian legend, Ekke once went to a woman from Rantum named Inge, but was given a basket.’ The problem here is that it is a pure invention by Hansen himself, this kind of Nordic mythology does not exist.

The second is Rumpelstiltskin. The Rumpelstiltskin variant used by Hansen belongs to a widespread complex of fairy tales and legends. In most of these tales, a dwarf or other creature helps a girl spin a certain amount of flax. The original North Frisian form of the story - which Hansen follows in his composition - does not contain precisely this element. This means that it belongs to a relatively small group of forms, which includes sagas from Pomerania, Lower Saxony, Tyrol, Lower Austria and Schleswig-Holstein. However, here he uses the verse often found in Rumpelstiltskin, except what is a merman doing on a mountain?

Apart from what Hansen has probably used here to give Ekke a story, it is more likely that this myth has been around on the islands for a long time and only in different versions and without a real name. It can therefore be assumed that Hansen was just trying to give it a unified story and a name.

[whencyclopedia]

Romulus and Remus

In Roman mythology, Romulus and his twin brother Remus were the founders of the city of Rome. They were the children of Rhea Silvia and Mars (or in some variations the demi-god hero Hercules) and their story is recorded by many authors including Virgil who claims their birth and adventures were fated in order for Rome to be founded.

The Birth & Parentage of Romulus & Remus

Romulus and Remus were the direct descendants of Aeneas, whose fate-driven adventures to discover Italy are described by Virgil in The Aeneid. Romulus and Remus were related to Aeneas through their mother's father, Numitor. Numitor was a king of Alba Longa, an ancient city of Latium in central Italy, and father to Rhea Silvia. Before Romulus' and Remus' conception, Numitor's reign was usurped by Numitor's younger brother, Amulius. Amulius inherited control over Alba Longa's treasury with which he was able to dethrone Numitor and become king. Amulius, wishing to avoid any conflict of power, killed Numitor's male heirs and forced Rhea Silvia to become a Vestal Virgin. Vestal Virgins were priestesses of Vesta, patron goddess of the hearth; they were charged with keeping a sacred fire that was never to be extinguished and to take vows of chastity.

There is much debate and variation as to who was the father of Romulus and Remus. Some myths claim that Mars appeared and lay with Rhea Silvia; other myths attest that the demi-god hero Hercules was her partner. However, the author Livy claims that Rhea Silvia was in fact raped by an unknown man, but blamed her pregnancy on divine conception. In either case, Rhea Silvia was discovered to be pregnant and gave birth to her sons. It was custom that any Vestal Virgin betraying her vows of celibacy was condemned to death; the most common death sentence was to be buried alive. However, King Amulius, fearing the wrath of the paternal god (Mars or Hercules) did not wish to directly stain his hands with the mother's and children's blood. So, King Amulius imprisoned Rhea Silvia and ordered the twins' death by means of live burial, exposure, or being thrown into the Tiber River. He reasoned that if the twins were to die not by the sword but by the elements, he and his city would be saved from punishment by the gods. He ordered a servant to carry out the death sentence, but in every scenario of this myth, the servant takes pity on the twins and spares their lives. The servant, then, places the twins into a basket and onto the River Tiber; the river carries the boys to safety.

Continue reading...

[kemeticdevotee]

Nit, or Neith, Goddess of hunting, wisdom, and weaving.

Nit was a Goddess of many things, and of many backstories. In some myths, she gives birth to Ra (God of the sun and king of the Gods), Sobek (crocodile God), Thoth (God of Wisdom) and more.

Nit is a Goddess of war, hunting, weaving, wisdom, and a protector of the king/creator Goddess. She was one of the four protectors of the deceased, along with Isis, Serket, and Nepthys.

In many myths, she is a virgin Goddess. However, sometimes, she is said to have a husband, which is usually Set or Khnum.

The Egyptians believed that when involked, she could help the people settle arguments and disputes. In the contendings of Seth and Horus, Ra contacts her to pick one to be king. She picks Horus, but gives Seth two wives (Anath and Astarte) as a consolation prize.

She was said to be connected to bodies of water, especially rivers, ponds, and streams.

Symbols

bows and arrows

weaving utensils

shield

Nit symbol 𓋋

sycamore

spiders

spider webs

the colors gray, blue and red

sewing needles

cows

water

Offerings

Water

Arrowheads

Almonds

Depictions of spiders or cows

Weapons

Writing utensils

Milk

Frankincense and myrrh

Bread

Beer

Epithets

Mother of Mothers

Mother of Creation

Virgin

Great Goddess

Divine weaver

Warrior

Wise Woman

Devotional Acts

Learn martial arts

Weaving, sewing, or crocheting

Meditation

Self-reflection

Writing

Learn the art of weaponry or battle

Spend time by bodies of water

Write letters to her

[lunarforager]

Who is Athena?

Today's "Introduction to the Hellenic Gods" post is about the lovely Athena! She was the one I wanted to do next since I have a very personal connection with her. Athena is the deity I am currently trying to reach out to (so this post is acting as an offering of sorts) and she is also the deity I most associate most with my partner!

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Athena is the name given to the ancient Greek goddess of wisdom, strategic warfare, and handicraft. Her Roman equivalent is Minerva.

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Athena's birth myth has two versions that are very similar to one another. The first myth states that Athena was produced by Zeus' own thoughts and was 'born' by erputing from his forehead. In this myth there was no mother.

In the other version of her birth myth, Athena was instead a growing baby inside the goddess Metis who Zeus then swallowed. Athena then emerged fully formed from his forehead once again.

In both myths, Athena was said to emerge fully grown weilding both her spear and her shield and ready for battle.

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Pallas Athena is the most commonly referred to epithet of Athena. There are many explainations to how this epithet came to be, but most agree that it comes from the Greek word πάλλω, which means "to brandish". Pallas Athena refers specifically to the warlike attributes of Athena, with her being depicted in her full battle armor with her shield and her spear.

Athena Parthenos is another commonly used epithet meaning "Athena the Virgin". Athena, like Hestia and Artemis was a virgin goddess, but unlike Hestia (or Vesta) was not worshipped in that capacity. It was simply an attribute commonly given to her.

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Some interesting facts about Athena:

Athena is known to wield the shield Aegis, which is engraved with the face of the Gorgon, Medusa.

Athena was regarded as the patron goddess of heroic endeavours, hence why she continually helps the heroes of famous myths like Perseus, Jason, and Heracles.

Athena was often depicted in art wearing male battle armor and was treated similary to the male gods.

Athena created the first spider, Arachne, after challenging the woman in a weaving contest, which she lost, afterwards transforming her into an arachnid.

—-

My favourite literature and artwork depicting Athena/Minerva:

- The Iliad by Homer: In the first book of the Iliad, Athena is sent down by Hera to stop Achilles and Agamemnon from getting into a physical altercation. She grabs Achilles by the hair and warns him that fighting Agamemnon will lead him away from his destiny of greatness.

- The statue of Athena Parthenos (recreations) by Phidias: A statue of Athena meant to be housed in the Parthenon on the acropolis of Athens

- The Judgement of Paris by Lucas Cranach the Elder: Paris was asked to choose which of the three goddesses, Hera, Athena, or Aphrodite, he believed was the ‘fairest’. Each offered him a bribe to choose them, but Paris went with Aphrodite as the goddess offered him the most beautiful woman to wed, Helen of Troy. In this painting all three goddesses are depicted nude, which wouldn’t have been the case in ancient Greek art, as depicting any goddess, even Aphrodite, as nude was seen as sacrilege. This was painted in 1530, hence why the nudity wasn’t frowned upon.

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Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this post! I absolutely love Athena and all that she represents and so I was so excited to spend some time writing this up for you all. If you have any suggestions for who to write about next, feel free to DM me or leave me an ask! Also, feel free to reach out if you just want to chat! I love making new friends and would love to talk to anybody who wants to!

Valete, my friends! <3

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

"The beginnings of Christian theology are dark and devious.

Who introduced the dogmas of the Trinity, the Virgin Birth, and the Atonement we do not know with any certainty.

Jesus Himself was unaware of any of them, and His Disciples were apparently little the wiser."

-- H.L. Mencken

[talonabraxas]

Medusa Myth

Medusa started out as a temple Virgin. She was beautiful, charming and admired for her glorious, long, glossy hair. Poseidon, overcome by lust, ravished her in the temple. Pallas Athena was not amused so she cursed Medusa for defiling her sacred grounds. Out of jealousy or maybe just to prove she was one of the boys, Pallas turned Medusa into the hideous serpent headed gorgon with the petrifying stare she is famous for. Brave Perseus succeeded in decapitating her and returned her head to Pallas Athena for use as a powerful shield in battle, the Aegis.

Medusa became even more powerful after her death ( Princess Diana had Venus on Algol), and together with her rival Pallas Athena she became invincible. Maybe there is a message here, when former adversaries are united they become stronger. Algol is very much a star of transformation. The blinking binary star goes from light to dark in cycles, like Persephone. So she is another resurrection Goddess and like Persephone, she was also raped by a God… The serpents in Medusa’s hair connect her to the Ophiuchus constellation (the snake charmer) also known as the medicine man.

I wrote that “Medicine comes from the same root as Medusa, the name of the sorceress Medea also comes from this root. The blood from Medusa’s left side was poisonous and the right side was used to heal.”

So the paradox again, if you dabble in shamanism it can kill you or enlighten you. Medusa’s blood also gave birth to Pegasus, where lies another story about hubris. Both the Lilith star and the Lilith constellation of Ophiuchus have the darkest reputation within the fixed stars. And both feature…serpents. What is it about serpents?

With Ophuichus the serpent is about linking sexuality to enlightenment, and that seems to worry Christianity. With Algol it is more about taking that wisdom and becoming your own god. Now science is the worry. Nowhere is this Medusa hubris more evident than in the medical profession, where we have doctors playing god with genetics.

[cursecuelebre]

Queen Hera’s About Blog

Just a little cheat sheet of Queen Hera/Iuno’s worship from Greco-Roman paganism

Attributes

Women and Womenhood

Families

Children

Protector of Cities (Argos, Rome, Greek state etc)

Marriage and Virginity

Stars and the Full Moon

Goddess of the heavens

Childbirth

Protector of Young Men or adolescent boys

Goddess of Young girls

Love

Flowers

Widows and Wives

Guardian to all women and Saviour to Women

Fertility

Animals

Cow

Peacock

Cuckoo (Zeus seduced her in the form of a Cuckoo)

Lions

Crane

Hawk

Herbs/Fruit

Pomegranates

Lotuses

Flowers

Apples

Cucumbers

Lemons

Limes

Figs

Lilies

Symbols

Libation bowl

Lotus Sceptre

Chariot

Crown

Family

Spouse: Zeus king of the the Gods his Roman equivalent is Jupiter

Divine children: Ares (war), Hebe (Youth), Hephaestus (Smith God, birthed on her own in some stories), Eileithyia (childbirth) Eris (discord). Mars (In Roman myth Juno went to the goddess Flora to give her a flower to make her pregnant without a male help because it was after Jupiter’s own birth of Minerva from his head. Flora granted her the flower and became pregnant birthing Mars the god of war and vegetation in Roman mythology.

Epithets/Titles

Hera Pais - Girl

Hera Nympheuiomenē - Betrothed bride

Hera Teleia - Adult Women

Hera Khēra - Widow

Hera Aphrodite - of Aphrodite

Hera Gamēlia - Of marriage

Hera Autorôtē - unbulled (virginal)

Hera Zugla - yoked (married)

Hera Hēnioknē - Of the Chariot

Hera Antheia - Of the Flowers

Hera Argôia - Of the Ship Argos

Hera Hyperkheiria - Whose hand is above

Hērion - Temple of Hera

Hēraia - Festival of Hera

Daidala- Festival of Hera

Roman Epithets/ Titles

- Juno Sospita - Armed Warrior (as savior of women and the state as well as protector of young men and adolescents boys).

- Juno Moneta - “The Warner” but it also can relate to mint or money and currency.

[mask131]

Some people are very confused about why, in the myth of the Judgement of Paris, the three goddesses who fall for the Apple of Discord trick are Aphrodite, Hera and Athena. They usually understand why Aphrodite and Hera would fall for the trick of "the most beautiful" - one is the goddess of love, sexuality, romance and beauty ; the other is the queen of the goddesses. But when it comes to Athena, they tend to have a hard time seeing the goddess of wisdom, war, peace, intelligence and virginity get enroled into a "I'm more beautiful than you" petty feud.

... Except it is very much in line with her character, and yes, these three deities are in classical mythology the most vain of the goddesses.

Now, I will here use both Greek and Roman example mixed together because I do not have time to do a thorough split and explanation for everything - so rather let us take an overview of the goddesses' legends as a whole, throughout the centuries.

Aphrodite is vain, this is something that has been established regularly. She is a being of seduction and love, she is the most beautiful of the goddesses since birth and if it wasn't enough she had her husband create a magical belt for her that makes her attractive to anyone who sees her (a husband she cheated on with one of the worst gods of Greek mythology just because said husband was ugly and the other god was hot. Hated but hot.)

One version of Echo's legend has Pan's unrequired love for her caused by Aphrodite as a punishment for not giving her the "most beautiful" award (and turned the other contestant who won into a shark). Aphrodite persecuted Psyche because she was said to be more beautiful than her. Myrrha was cursed by Aphrodite to fall in love with her father because her mother claimed she was more beautiful than the goddess. And there's a lot of other tales like that - so it is well established that not only is Aphrodite the most beautiful goddess, she makes al lot of efforts to stay that way and will be VERY angry if anyone refuses her this title (sounds a bit insecure if you ask me but what do I know?)

If we go to Hera, we have again a certain case of pride and a status to be held. Hera is renowned for her beautiful eyes (the famous "cow-eyes" which no, are not an insult, but were an Ancient Greek compliment, because cow-eyes were deemed to be beautiful), and she is the queen of the gods, Zeus' eternal queen, THE first goddess among them all. That's a certain status to hold - and since she is known to have a bad temper, this comes of as a form of vanity and jealousy. The fact Herakles was named Herakles, "the glory of Hera", was precisely in an attempt to appease the goddess' wrath by appealing to her with flattery (turns out it didn't work). Remember: when Zeus had children of his own, without female help, such as Athena (or rather when it looked like he produced Athena on his own), Hera got pissed off because she saw this as a personal offense and tried to have a child of her own without Zeus just to prove him she could do it too (and the result was always disastrous, ranging from Hephaistos to FRIGGIN TYPHON).

This also ties into the whole idea of Hera persecuting Zeus' lovers and "bastards" out of jealousy. Note that she does not persecute ALL of Zeus' lovers, nor does she persecutes all of his extra-marital children... She always picks up those that Zeus seems to favor. That's how it all started with Herakles: Zeus was boasting about how he was going to shower his son with great gifts and a glorious destiny and all that, and Hera wouldn't have that. But she did not persecute Herakles' mother in any way... Just the son that Zeus clearly favoritized. And it becomes VERY obvious Hera's jealousy is not just related to a case of "cheating" in the case of Leto. Hera persecuted Leto for bearing Zeus' children and being deemed more beautiful than her by Zeus... When the myths are clear that Leto was Zeus companion (and possible wife) BEFORE Hera married Zeus. Before this whole story became another one of Zeus' cheating cases, this was a tale of Hera, unmarried to Zeus yet, simply being jealous of Leto being deemed more beautiful than her.

So this was all quite well established... But what about Athena, then, you ask?

Athena is also vain. I am sorry to announce it to you, but all the goddesses of Ancient Greeks have a flaw in myths (not in religion though, in religion all the goddesses are perfect and benevolent, but in legends and texts they are human-like with flaws and vices), and Athena's personal vice is vanity. The whole Arachne myth has sometimes been interpreted as a manifestation of Athena's personal pettiness, as in she cannot stand that someone is better than her at weaving. (It is a bit complicated since as I said before the legend of Arachne is purely Roman not Greek but I also told you I was going to mix Roman and Greek today so you have been warned). Even outside of the legend of Arachne, there is the legend of the flute - how Athena invented the first flute, but then cast it away and cursed it because when she played it, she looked ugly and people mocked her. This is probably the most famous legend about her vanity. And as I posted a long time ago - while this version of Medusa's legend was mostly lost to time because we lack the text, and it was preserved in scholia, we know that by Classical Greece the legend of Athena turning Medusa into a monster was quite popular... but it was all about Medusa being more beautiful than Athena, hence her being turned into a monster.

There's also a legend of a Meropis turned into an owl for mocking Athena's eye-color...

Anyway! Conclusion, it makes sense in the wider scope of Greco-Roman mythology to have these three goddesses be the one to fall for Eris' scheme, because they are the three most vain Olympian goddesses. Now it would have been weird if the candidates would have been, I don't know... Demeter or Hestia. These goddesses are not renowned for any vanity. But Athena? Yeah, makes sense.

EDIT: @teamrocketsfatknockers made a quite important point in a reblog and so I will add a point to my article.

I will insist that all I present to you above is from an "in-universe" point of view and a literal reading of the story. We are here talking of "humanized characterization" for the goddesses, and from a purely narrative, fictional point of view. That was my angle of attack: Why would Athena be considered "vain" in-story when we typically deem an "asexual virgin who hates romance and is more into war and high-intellects" as someone someone not much into superficiality or appearances.

But as I repeatedly said before, each myth has at least three levels of interpretation and three meaning warped in one. A religious meaning (though the one in the Judgement of Paris is... unknown to me so far), a literal meaning (as in we have a story, with characters, and this is a fiction) and a metaphorical or philosophical meaning. So I need to highlight that the myth of the Judgement of Paris can be read in a philosophical way as such. Why are these three goddesses searching for the Golden Apple aimed at the "fairest of them all"? Because all three of them embody the most attractive and seductive concepts a Greek man can ever hope for ; they are all three the ideals of Ancient Greek mindset and society. As such Paris' choice and the goddess' quarrels isn't about just satisfying the petty vanity of superficial divas anymore - it becomes a deep debate about which ideal, which dream is the most desirable for a Greek hero, and by extension for a Greek man. Hera is royalty, supremacy, political power and domination ; Athena is peace and wisdom, heroism and cleverness ; Aphrodite is romance, love, beauty and sexuality. And this all reflects within their gifts to Paris - which are in fact extension of what the goddesses themselves embody and represent.

You could sum it up as: Do you want to be a king, a hero or a lover? What would reward you most in life, a crown, a sword or a wife? What allures to you more, power, glory or romance?

Again, that's the beauty of the Greeks myths - and of all myths in the world. They depict simultaneously the gods as the pettiest more vicious selfish and flawed persons you ever met, basically warped caricatures of humanity... and as deep, profound, essential principles of human nature and human society, whose every interaction with mortals causes philosophical debates, ideological questioning and existential crisis.

[mythology-freaky-lady]

ATHENA

Athena, in Roman mythology known as Minerva, was a daughter of Zeus and Metis (Oceanid of good thoughts).

Patronage, symbols and epithets

Athena was a goddess of wisdom, fair war, warfare, crafts, intelligence, warcraft, strategy, protector and mentor of heroes and patron of the Athens

She was associated with owls, snakes and sometimes horses, olive tree. On ancient paintings and vases she was pictured with a spear, helmet, armor, Aegis (shield with Medusa's head) and chariot.

The epithets that were used to describe were:

Pallas (young woman or brandish) - connected with a friend Athena had while training with Amazons (in other sources they were childhood friends)

Glaukopis (bright eye) - connected with the owl that represented Athena

Parthenos (virgin)

Polias (of the city)

Hippia (of the horses) - connected with her creating bit, bridle and saddle

Family

Athena's father was Zeus and her mother was Metis. Due to those two, her sibling-uncle-aunt-cousin list was very long.

Zeus had many children so from his side it would look like this:

Siblings from Zeus's side: Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Hephaestus, Hebe, Hermes, Dionysus, Muses, Horae, Charities, Persephone, Eileithyia, Heracles and many more

Aunts/uncles from Zeus's side: Hestia, Hera, Demeter, Hades, Poseidon

In some sources, it's said that Metis also had a son, Porus. That makes him Athena's brother.

Siblings from Metis's side: Porus

Aunts/uncles from Metis's side: 49 Oceanides, Potamol

Children

Even though it's said that Athena was a virgin goddess, which is true BUT.....she was raped, by her own brother, Hephaestus.

When he let Athena out of Zeus's head, he immediately fell for her. He asked the father to let him marry her but Zeus was clever enough to notice that Athena, his favourite daughter, was very disgusted by Hephaestus and he said 'no'. God of Fire was very sad about that but he didn't give up. Whenever he could, he would try to seduce the Goddess of Wisdom. Athen was saying 'no' every time. One time, when she visited Hephaestus in his forge to request some weapon, he tried again. She stood high and left but he followed her and tried to rape her. She pushed him off but a bit of his semen fell on her skin. (In "Percy Jackson's Greek Gods" it's said that Hephaestus wiped his nose in her dress.) Athena wiped the fluids with a scrap of wool and threw it down on the Earth. That's how Erichthonius, future ruler of Athens was born.

Birth

Zeus, threatened by Kronos's words about the King's child taking his throne, decided to swallow pregnant Metis to get rid of the 'problem'. But, as an Oceanid of good thoughts, Metis gave birth to Athena then turned herself into a thought and moved into Zeus's head then somehow left. Baby Athena followed Metis's steps and travelled to King's head, where she grew up and became a big, annoying headache. Zeus, tired from the pain, asked his son, Hephaestus, to open his skull to see what was wrong. He listened and how surprised everyone was when a fully armored goddess jumped out of Zeus's head.

Myths

1. Arachne

Arachne was a Libyan princess who was saying that her weaving was better than Athena's. The goddess was pissed and accepted Arachne's challenge. Unluckily for Arachne, Athena couldn't find any flaw in the princess's work so she destroyed her work in anger. Arachne was so ashamed that she hung herself. Athena then turned her into a spider and let her weave for the rest of her life.

2. Medusa

Medusa, one of the three Gorgons, was a very beautiful woman, some say she was an Athena's temple maiden. One day, after the competition between Athena and Poseidon about patronage over Athens, Sea God was so angry at his nephew, that he decided to make her feel the same. So with his natural flirt going, he approached Medusa and started to mess around. After some time he led unaware Medusa to Athena's temple that she was working at and started to indicate a sexual act. She was very opposed to that, that was Athena's sacred place and she knew that it was risky. Poseidon was pressuring her, saying that Athena was busy and she wouldn't mind or so. Still, she didn't agree to anything, as many may agree, she was raped. Athena, who wasn't so busy, saw what was happening in her temple. Blinded with anger, she turned Medusa into a monster we know her as, the woman with snakes on her head and the eyes that turn into a stone. But was it really Medusa's fault?

3. Athens

Poseidon and Athena were rather enemies when it comes to patronage over the city. They both wanted to be patrons of Athens so they set a contest. Who will give the best gift to the city? Poseidon gave the city salt water and horses, Athena gave them an olive tree. Well, Athenians chose the tree. That's how she got the patronage.

Those are just a few myths with Athena in them, I can provide a little more if you're interested.

Art

Credit to the artists (IrenHorrors on DeviantArt, two others I couldn't find the author)

Author's talking

Hello! I decided to start with my favourite goddess and my protector as a pagan.

I hope you like my work here, if you have any questions, advice or want to say anything, just let me know or say so.

If you want to see any specific god, goddess, creature or deity, just let me know, either in the comments, anon asks or DMs.

Have fun!

[theoi-crow]

do you know of any deities related to reproductive rights? i apologize if this is a silly question 😅

Hi, this isn't a silly question at all!

Unfortunately since women were not considered "people" in the ancient world (they were often seen as baby incubators with the sole purpose of having children which is why they were married off as soon as they got their periods and, unless they were from Sparta, without an education since education for young girls was seen as useless, unlike their brothers who would often receive an education, and sometimes if no other male relative was alive, their younger brother could be in charge of his older sister's life and marriage fate. Could you imagine having your annoying little brother in charge of your life? HELL NO!)

There are no Greek gods officially assigned to reproductive rights because reproductive rights were not a thing for women back then because they didn't have a say in their own life (there may be exceptions but those are super rare) but I believe that as time changes so do the gods which is why I believe any fertility god back then is also a god of reproductive rights, today: 

You are free to look into the list of fertility deities in case you prefer someone else but I highly suggest Artemis for a number of reasons: 

1) Artemis is one of the oldest fertility gods in the pantheon: She has an older Mycenaean version where she was already a fertility goddess since her older version, A-te-mi-to was a part of an ancient Arcadian tree cult in Greece that had orgies for reproductive purposes so she was firmly a fertility goddess but when they decided to change her from the non-virgin, non-twin Mycenaean version to her post Bronze Age collapse virgin, twin of Apollo version they re-invented her myth to include her helping her mother give birth to her brother Apollo, so she could keep her original title as a fertility goddess.

2) Artemis jealously guarded her own virginity throughout her myths: As the goddess who refuses to be the wife of any man or god she was openly hostile to anyone who challenged her virginity. In some versions, instead of Apollo tricking her into killing Orion who secretly was planning to rape her, she kills Orion herself as a show of self-defense. While bathing naked she turned a peeping Tom into a deer and had his own hunting dogs kill him. She's also aware of her virginity being a desirable target because she uses it to distract the two giants who had imprisoned Ares.

3) She's the unofficial god-mother of the Amazons and she's the head patron goddess of the strong women of Spartan: Her and Ares, the father of the Amazons, are really close so she is often with the Amazons herself. This is probably the closest to children Artemis will ever have since she has no children of her own. She is also the main patron goddess of Sparta (with her brother Apollo), and Spartan women were the exception, they didn't get married until 18, often with combat training and an education, and since they often inherited their dead husband's wealth and kept getting re-married, the two kings in Sparta would often petition the women in Sparta for money to fund whatever war Sparta was involved in since the women of Sparta were often richer than the sitting kings.

So for these reasons, I imagine Artemis would be a very strong candidate as a fertility rights goddess since she exercised her right to remain child free all throughout history.