Saints of the starship and angels that take their true form as nebulae, great and fiery amorphous beings that speak the will of the Universe
Nymphs of asteroid fields and planetary rings, sylphs that fly in the tails of comets and solar wind, the gods of the galactic core
Demons that dwell in black holes and eat the hearts of dying stars, spirits of galactic battles that cause engines and shields to fail when you get too close to their graves
Ghost ships, long MIA, drifting in dark space, an inaccessible monument to those lost
Demigods, Herculean beings forged in solar fire surviving alone and unshielded in the vacuum, on an icy rock so far from a star as to never see its light
Heroes and saints ascending to their gods by dissolving into starlight and void
Thinking on it, Loki should really have just dropped the whole Asgard thing and moved to Greece to hang with the Olympians
Like, Loki’s worst bits of mischief, up to and including murder, is just Zeus’ casual Tuesday. Plus everyone is always busy either fucking with someone if not actually fucking them. There’s a god of drinking and theatre (professional artful lying, holy shit). Also a god of chilling in the woods and banging nymphs and/or lonely shepherds (ideal). Two love/beauty/lust deities (doubly ideal, good on Mama Aphrodite and Son Eros, great family tradition). No prophesy of an apocalyptic showdown to look forward to–or any kind of narrative to bind the gods, period (Fuck Yes). The local mortals are all nerds in togas or oiled up muscle men (c:). Balmy weather, access to spices (C:).
Honestly, it’d just be
Zeus: What convinces you, god from the north, that you have a place here among my family? Among the gods of sky and sea and earth, the gods who are all the power and inspiration of the world? What right have you, foreign trickster, to the gates of Olympus?
Loki: Oh, is this the job interview? Damn, and here I am without my power suit. Let me change real quick
Loki, naked: So my work history is,
Zeus, naked: Hera, have someone clear out the guest room
@roachpatrol you remember the idea we were playing with where hell was giving obsolete gods demon makeovers and jobs? and there was an angel named eggs who was wheel-sexual? i just realized what we need for that: hilarious pantheon mashups. like a yackety sax version of american gods.
speaking of american gods: thunder beings critique zeus’s bolt throwing technique while coyote eats everything and gets his head stuck in hera’s cleavage
Tell yes about that cow that licked someone into being?
OH MAN OH BOY OH MAN
Okay. Auðumla.
Before all things, there were only the planes of endless fire and endless ice. Where these met, the primal ice began to melt, and from the drops of meltwater sprang a child; Ymir, the first being, who was both male and female and who could reproduce asexually. Ymir had many sons and daughters. From the line of Ymir comes the giants.
Also from the melt sprang Auðumla, the great cow, who licked at the ice for nourishment. As she licked at the ice, Ymir suckled from her and grew. As
Auðumla licked at the ice, her licks uncovered Buri, the first of the Aesir.
Buri had a son named Bor. (The name of Buri’s wife has been lost, but we can assume that he either created Bor asexually or married one of Ymir’s daughters. As Buri is the god of creation, either may be true)
Bor married a giantess named Bestla, the daughter of the giant Bolthorn and granddaughter of Ymir.
They had a son in turn, who they named Odin. Odin Borsson, who with his brothers Vili and Ve slew Ymir to create the world. Odin, who would take on a thousand more names in time, including Allfather.
To clarify…
Auðumla licked the blocks of salt ice into the shape of a man, which then lived.
…what, nobody is going to turn that into a I lik the bred poem?
Don’t look at me, I suck at poetry. But… it just seems like the Universe would want it to happen.
Considering the fact that poetry is a highly honorable pursuit and poets are held in high esteem YES SOMEONE DO THE THING THE GODS WISH IT
my name is cow
and long ago
when I cam
from melted sno
i hav a thirst
so in a trice
i mak a man
i lik the ice
A SKALD EMERGES
Oh I’ll do you one better.
In Old Norse:
Ek heiti kýr ok þá er svǫng ek neyti tungu eins ok eldfǫng
I’ve noticed this revisionist Greek myth is common wherein Persephone loves Hades and eats the pomegranate seeds in order to evade her overbearing mother, and that’s all well and good. You know, sometimes I’m in the mood for it and sometimes I’m not. But hear this: as long as we’re doing this, why is no one wondering whether Aphrodite might really love Hephaestus?
Think about it. All the gods in their immortal splendor are lining up to marry her, doing everything in their power to impress her, the goddess of love and beauty, and she choses…that guy. A god in technical terms only, a social reject who’s ugly and malformed and um, no fun. Always slaving away in his workshop when everyone else is quaffing nectar and having their eternal beach party up on Mount Olympus. They can’t believe she’d give up all of them for that.
So, because the gods do not take rejection well (looking at you Apollo), eventually they start to say to each other, well, we all know Zeus made her do it anyway. He’s gotta feel guilty for throwing Hephaestus off Mount Olympus that one time. And it quickly becomes thatpoorgirl, stuck in that workshop full of sweat and dirt and cyclopses when she could have had one of us. Because of course they’ve got love all figured out; it’s entirely technical and dependent on who’s the most charming and good-looking and not at all variable and strange and notoriously unpredictable, right?
Meanwhile Ares, only the most arrogant and brainless of the crew, can’t take a hint and is still showing up wherever Aphrodite goes trying to hit on her, so eventually she and Hephaestus decide to rig up an elaborate mechanical trap for him, using her as bait. When all the gods have laughed at him for getting caught he huffily attempts to regain his dignity by telling them, whatever, guys, you want to know the truth, I was meeting her for an assignation. And they all kind of know he’s full of it but they just accept it as the unvarnished truth from thereon in, because they’d love to believe she’d cheat on Hephaestus with Ares. They’d love it. Come on, Aphrodite, get off your high horse and admit you’re just as shallow as the rest of us.
So they talk, but Aphrodite doesn’t really care about their collective jealousy because she dotes on her misshapen genius of a husband with his sooty hands and his sweaty brow who always takes her seriously and is always so hard at work inventing astonishing new things to make her happy, and she loves the volcano they live in with its internal pressures so conducive to the formation of precious stones and its passages lit with glowing lava that so gorgeously offsets her cheekbones, and all the cyclopses worship her because even with one eye apiece they’ve still got more depth perception than most men do where she’s concerned. True it is that as a couple the two develop a reputation for not getting out much, because all those Olympian parties bore them to death and they’d rather spend time with each other (poor Aphrodite, she’s such a vivacious young thing and her husband is so grasping and insecure that he won’t let her go out and have fun), but they do all right.
THIS IS THE KIND OF CONTENT I’M LOOKING FOR
love ❤
Ok, ok, wait, but it doesn’t end there. Because Aphrodite features pretty heavily in the story of Eros and Psyche. She’s painted as the villain, her jealousy causing her to send her son to curse the girl, but that’s just not true. She knows what it’s like to be clamored over for your beauty, knows the lies that are spread, the way it sets you up as a target and discredits your mind. Aphrodite hears the mortals whisper that this human girl rivals her in beauty, and one day she gets around to seeing what the fuss is about.
She finds Psyche’s home all but besieged by suitors, but she notices the girl isn’t falling for their flattery, that she is still kind, no matter who she’s dealing with. She sees a bit of herself in this girl who aches to be spoken to, not at, and who wants most of all to be heard.
When she sends her son to the girl, she is less than truthful about her motivations. She knows if she tells him she hopes he will fall for this mortal girl it will make things awkward for him, that true love must be discovered on its own and cannot be forced. When he comes away from the encounter with her name on his lips, searching for excuses to talk to her again, Aphrodite whispers into the soothsayer’s ear to tell Psyche’s father that she is loved by a god. Frees her from the hoards of shallow admirers and gives her son the opportunity he needs to see her again.
When a year of late-night conversations fails to convince her son that it’s time to reveal himself to his beloved, she puts a bug in Psysche’s ear to ask for her sisters to visit, whispers in their ears to convince Psyche to take matters into her own hands, ensures the two can finally meet face to face. She is saddened when Eros flees, believing Psyche had betrayed him.
The four tasks Psyche must overcome to be reunited with her son aren’t laid forth out of spite, but rather to help the girl find herself. Aphrodite knows this girl hasn’t had a choice in the path her life has taken up until this point. Knows that everything was in the hands of her father, and of Aphrodite herself. She wants to make sure Psyche means it, wants Psyche to know what she’s getting into when dealing with the Olympians. Wants, most of all, for Psyche to question her own motivations, fully evaluate the situation, and then make her own choice.
Her frustration at the Olympians aiding the girl isn’t because she hates being tricked. No, she wants Psyche to break out of her shell, wants her to have the option to decide this isn’t worth it and walk away.
When the final task ends in Psyche laying unconscious on the roadway, Aphrodite searches the girl’s heart and knows her intentions are true. Knows she is ready to join the family. She kicks Eros out of the house to ensure he would find Psyche, to ensure he would come to his senses and forgive her, realize that he had been unfair to her and to ask her forgiveness in turn.
They say Aphrodite was sour about the whole ordeal until her granddaughter was born, but the truth was she hadn’t stopped smiling from the moment her son had first come home, whispering the girls name in reverence.
I liked before.
Now I find it awesome.
will someone please do a different take on icarus too
or medea
or andromeda
Just to add to the first Aphrodite story, The Myth of her wedding says how she also mocked all the other Greek gods at her wedding by pointing out only Hephastus could produce the gifts he promised her as a wedding gift, as evidenced by them not showing up with the gifts they promised her.
Which, you know, probably doesn’t go down well with them either.
just moving along like everyone else 