Do you know anything about Celtic Mythology that you can share with me? I've read a lot of stories and researched about the gods and godesses, and I know that not much is known about druids and gods. I find it very confusing :( Maybe a web page or something? Thank you! :)

teashoesandhair answered:

I can tell you some broadly helpful things about Celtic mythology, beyond ‘oh my god the stories are insane’ (because they are totally insane):

ignore the Internet. Like legit. It’s devastating how much nonsense there is online about Celtic stuff. According to the Internet, the Celts were some idealised nature-worshipping matriarchal society, which really couldn’t be further from the truth. Because Celtic traditions were ultimately lost to Christianity, which is obviously a very patriarchal institution, it has become understandably popular to view the earlier Celtic world as a more free and liberal place, devoid of the later Christian patriarchy, but it’s sadly as much of a myth as the story of Pwyll and Annwn.Most of the gods who are depicted as nature deities by modern pagans and Celtic enthusiasts were not even remotely linked to nature. Looking at Cernunnos especially as an example of this, there is no evidence at all that he was either a particularly popular god or in any way associated with nature, and yet he is now often thought of as the god of nature across the Celtic world. Women had a pretty hard time of things in much of Celtic society; chastity, purity and modesty were all qualities expected of them, and they were broadly expected to be subservient to their husbands (and woe betide you if you didn’t have one). I do slightly want to bash my head against a wall whenever these drawings of frolicking ‘Celtic goddesses’ show up on my dashboard, proclaimed as ‘the goddess of [insert bullshit field of living here]’, all scantily clad and bestowed with a list of their definitive qualities and their absolute power over nature. BUT I DIGRESS.Whereas a lot of online stuff is great for the study of other religions and traditions, Celtic studies have really suffered from an abundance of wishful misinformation. If you want to find things about Celtic religion that are in any way useful, you unfortunately have to stick to the peer reviewed stuff, or at least check that what you’re reading was written by someone who has a background in actual Celtic studies. It’s a bit of a faff, but as long as you’re careful with what you’re reading, there’s still a lot of interesting stuff out there!
we know nothing. Or at least we know incrementally more than nothing. A lot of stuff written on Celtic mythology is based on speculation, because we don’t have a handy list of written texts from the Celts themselves to draw upon. The written sources, even the really old ones like the Mabinogion, are either dated from way after the dawn of Christianity or were written by people other than the Celts themselves. The Romans, for example, wrote a few things about these exotic and sexy barbarians, mostly in an attempt to portray themselves as being superior and cultured compare to their neighbours, but a lot of it was melodramatic; more of a bodice-ripper type narrative than a historical document. The Romans also used an approach called interpretatio romana, which is really exactly what it sounds like; they used the framework of their own world and tried to place Celtic society into the same boxes. For example, they described some Celtic deities as being Hermes, Jupiter and Cronus. They didn’t mean that the Celts actually worshipped these gods - the Celts had their own polytheistic system - but they were attempting to say ‘OK, this is how we as Romans understand religion, and this is how we’re going to make sense of other religions’. This has the unfortunate effect of modern people reading these texts and thinking ‘the Romans said that the Celts worshipped Hermes - from this, we can reconstruct that the Celts worshipped a trickster god! We know the names of X, Y and Z as Celtic gods, and X must be the trickster’. It’s a dangerous and speculative method, trying to reconstruct the religion from sources that are already tenuous. Therefore, a lot of what we think we know about the Celts isn’t exactly fact; we know a lot about what people wrote and thought about them, but with no accurate personal testimony, it’s hard to translate that into knowing anything concrete about them.
Celtic gods were not discrete units. It’s hard to put into words what exactly I mean by that, but I shall try. Whereas in studies of Greco-Roman religion, it can be easy to say things like ‘Athena was the goddess of strategic warfare (amongst other things)’, and thus link a deity inexorably to a field over which they had dominion and control, Celtic gods probably didn’t function in the same way. Instead, they likely functioned more like Egyptian gods, with certain deities linked to or identified with certain regions of the land instead of areas of life. Also like Egyptian gods, there was no one pantheon of gods which all Celtic people worshipped; we don’t have a single godly father like Zeus, or a pantheon of 12 important gods like the Olympians. Instead, we have evidence of literally hundreds of Celtic deities, most only mentioned in one source and then never referenced again, suggesting that gods were localised and specific. There’s no evidence that a family who moved from one end of the country to the other would be familiar with all of the gods of that new location at all. One good example of this is actually Cernunnos. Cernunnos is the name that has been given to a horned god. We do have over 50 statues of this deity (although we only have one instance of the name Cernunnos being applied to this deity), but all of these statues were found in Northern Gaul. So, although Cernunnos is often described as a ‘Celtic god’, implying a wide-reaching cult, all the evidence points to him - or whatever version of him was actually worshipped - being a much more localised deity. This points to a system whereby what exactly it meant to be religious was very different. Gods were personal and immediate; a man living in the North of Wales would not make an offering to the same god as a man living in the South of Ireland, even if they both wanted to ensure good luck at the weekend’s hunt. And this is why it is irritating when things like ‘Cernunnos, Celtic god of nature’ and ‘Arianrhod, Celtic goddess of the moon’ show up.
on the same note as above, the Mabinogion isn’t a text of Welsh mythology. It’s a text copied and written by Christians, was intended for an esoteric courtly audience, and mixes typical courtly tropes (e.g. the saucy knights and the swooning dames) with some elements of Welsh folklore, but it’s not a book from which we can deduce a whole bunch about what the Welsh pagans actually believed. Even things that are generally accepted to be religious truths, such as Rhiannon being a representation of an important Welsh goddess, aren’t factual - this particular interpretation comes from a dude named WJ Gruffydd, who looked at Irish mythology and decided that Welsh mythology was probably identical. Ireland had a goddess associated with horses named Epona, and Rhiannon in the Mabinogion is shown riding a horse; this, in Gruffydd’s view, was proof that there used to be a Welsh myth where Rhiannon was a horse goddess (and, in his opinion, an actual horse - wtf). There is no evidence whatsoever for this. It was purely conjecture, and yet it’s almost accepted universally as fact.There are some things within the Mabinogion that are pretty obviously derived from Welsh mythology, such as Manawydan fab Llŷr (more on this dude below) but it has been so heavily Christianised and euhemerised (meaning that the original myths have been placed into a real world context) that, with none of the original source materials existing, we should be wary of trying to reconstruct the pagan originals from the Christian adaptations.
so, one thing we should remember is that ‘Celtic mythology’ as an entire and whole unit of narrative and belief is a real misnomer. There was never a unified society across the whole of Britain who called themselves the Celts. Instead, there are multiple local and regional traditions which are obviously and inevitably linked; tendencies to name rivers after goddesses believed to live there, some shared gods, and generally accepted societal norms. The term ‘Celt’ has been disputed in terms of who exactly it should apply to, when it should apply, and what it actually means. Different people use it in different ways. It’s a pain in all two of my feet.We have evidence that a lot of their beliefs were shared or derived from the same root - there are obvious similarities and cognates between Welsh and Irish mythology, such as the Irish god Manannán mac Lir and the Welsh king Manawydan fab Llŷr, referenced in the Mabinogion, but this doesn’t mean that they were essentially interchangeable. A lot of older scholars, such as Gruffydd mentioned above, believed that they were, and a lot of what we ‘know’ about Welsh mythology comes from what we do know about Irish mythology. This is Bad Practice with a capital B and P (and also B and S).
there is some actual stuff we can genuinely infer, but I can’t even begin to cover the basics here because I will actually die. If you have any specific questions (e.g. the Celtic ideas of the Otherworld or the roles of male and female deities) then I can do a more focused reply on that! Otherwise, I will leave you with a handy little bibliography.

Sources:

Studia Celtica - a journal on Celtic studies, produced in Wales (and annoyingly not available online - the bane of my academic life)
The Mabinogion translated by Sioned Davies - this has a really good introduction to Welsh religion and the problems of trying to reconstruct it, as well as a lot of stuff that can be reconstructed. Stay away from Charlotte Guest’s translation if you want a more accurate one.
Jeffrey Gantz’s various translations of Welsh and Irish works - he’s done an Irish Mythology compilation with a load of good background and context, available from Penguin.
The Mammoth Book of Celtic Myths and Legends - Peter Berresford-Ellis - this is not a scholarly book and it falls into a lot of the pitfalls I’ve mentioned above, but as long as you’re aware of these pitfalls, it’s a good book for just seeing the narrative traditions .
Pagan Britain - Ronald Hutton - useful for seeing some of the modern misinterpretations / reinterpretations of Celtic stuff and how they link to the actual sources.
One final Internet source - the Celtic Encylopaedia! It’s basically a compilation of a lot of out-of-copyright translations of Medieval texts. It’s handy if you want to read more of the stories, but there’s obviously not a great deal of actual info here.

And now my fingers hurt.

#teashoesandhair #The Gaels #~Celtic Myth~#Yeah #:T #even the word 'Celt' is just a Roman pronunciation of a word THEY say some ~Celts~ in Spain described themselves with #it's sort of like the contemporary Japan/Nippon situation in English?#Classical Studies #Classical Gaels #Gaelic Society #of course my using 'Gael' for all of them isn't much better; it's about 1000 years out of date and from northern Britain #but I mean: it's what we call the language group so *Shrug*#History #Rome #Colonialism #Imperialism #Cultural Erasure #informative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

manyblinkinglights

teashoesandhair

Dear everyone who is currently working on a Thing, whatever that Thing may be,

Good luck with the Thing. You can do the Thing. You will do the Thing. You just have to do the Thing.

Best wishes,

Someone who is also doing a Thing

#teashoesandhair #Doing the Thing #Positivity #appreciative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

clonerightsagenda

teashoesandhair

May I humbly present my latest Dumb Myth Shit, Am I The Antihero?

Featuring such moral quandaries as

At last, these acts can be objectively judged.

#teashoesandhair #AITAntihero #Greek Myth #Myth #Humor #Twitter #frivolous reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

roach-works

teashoesandhair

Stop stealing my dang book

HEY, UH

The people who are putting my tiny self published book (Here, the World Entire, aka the book I poured my whole dang soul into!) up on piracy sites / requesting a pdf of my book on piracy sites:

CAN YOU LITERALLY THE FUCK NOT

I'm very glad that people want to read my book! It brings me joy that I very truly cannot even begin to explain! It's basically my dream come true! But please don't steal my work!

I don't have the backing of a big publishing house. I self published, so there's no advance for me. The only money I make off that book is through sales, and although it's not a lot at all per sale, it's the only source of income that book produces. I very strongly believe that writers deserve to get paid for their work. That includes me.

If you want to read my book but really can't justify using the funds you have to do so (because hey, we're all in different financial situations, I get it), I know it's in a couple of library systems so it's worth trying that. I'm reluctant to send out free ebooks now because the last time I did that someone put it on a pirating site, but you're welcome to ask and I may decide to do so on a case by case basis.

Please, please don't pirate books. Authors really don't generally make a lot as it is. We're not all JK Rowling. Minimising our already low revenue stream, especially self published authors, is shitty. It actually upsets me to think that someone who follows this blog might be one of the people pirating or asking for pirated copies. If it is you and you see this, I'm asking you to stop. I will be telling you next time.

Ehhh im pretty pro.pirate if you cant afford it you cant afford it. Pirate sites get you more audience which means more people can share it.

If you wanna stiffle that be my guest.

But your only gonna damage yourself.

teashoesandhair

Literally no. Stop. Desist. This is a super Bad Take, and also incredibly inappropriate to add to my post here. Let me explain.

I don't need exposure. I don't need 'audience'. That doesn't pay my bills. That doesn't compensate me for my months of hard work. I don't need people to 'share' my work for me free of charge by stealing it and distributing it for free without my consent.

You fundamentally misunderstand how the publishing industry works. It doesn't work by people stealing books. That sure benefits the reader, but it royally fucks over the author. Work being shared on pirating sites does absolutely sweet bugger all for me as an author. Audiences who know they can get my shit for free aren't going to suddenly start paying for it just because they've now heard of me, so your comments about building an audience are asinine; it's not building a paying audience for me, but an audience of people who steal my shit. Some audience.

I've sold hundreds of copies of my book based on the quailty of it (presumably; either that or my mum has been bribing people). It's selling itself pretty well, thanks. It's been performed as a play! It has pretty good reviews! I don't need to eschew being financially compensated in exchange for more audience, especially not if that audience isn't going to fucking pay. An audience gained from a pirate site is useless to me. It does nothing for me. I have one book out currently. Every person who steals it is someone who doesn't buy it. It's another sale lost. It's nothing gained. I don't have a back catalogue for people to buy once they've heard of me. It's theft and then fuck all benefit to me.

Writing isn't all about making money and it's a privilege to have your work out there and read, but it's also work, and in a capitalist society, that merits being compensated for the acknowledgement of that work. I'm not just a money hungry piece of shit (or I'd have priced my book at an actually decent profit margin) but I need money to, y'know, eat. Writing is one way I do that. I can't do that if people steal my work.

I don't give half a sodden shit if you're pro pirate. I'm not, and it's my livelihood on the line here, so maybe consider people's feelings before adding your two cents to a post. You've basically just ignored my feelings completely in order to add your spicy hot take to a post because apparently your misinformed opinion is more important than my livelihood. It's not. There's a time and a place to espouse your viewpoint. This was categorically not it.

#teashoesandhair #Book Piracy #Self Publishing #The Publishing Industry #Dont Steal Books #I mean srsl: it's difficult enough to make a living as a writer as it is #they get a tiny fraction of what their books make #hinthint they're the LABOR in this situation not the capitalists #but anyway #minitagrants #informative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

clonerightsagenda

teashoesandhair

So, my university does a lot of outreach Classics work, trying to make it less of an elitist subject and more accessible to children, and as part of that, I went to give a talk to a class of 6 and 7 year olds a few months back.

And here’s the thing. Classics is really often portrayed as the last bastion of academic privilege, a subject that is only taught to rich white kids so that they can brag about knowing Latin and get jobs as Tory MPs. But these kids were OBSESSED. They had already done some stuff on myths, and they were so excited to talk about it. They knew all the stories, all the heroes, the gods, the monsters. I have never seen such an excitable group of kids as these 6 year olds shouting about Odysseus.

For the lesson, I asked them to think of their favourite myth and to consider it from the point of view of the monster rather than the hero. The end goal was to show that often the monsters and heroes are quite similar. We decided to do Polyphemus (the Cyclops) in the Odyssey, and so I asked them why they thought Polyphemus might have been so angry at Odysseus that he killed some of his men.

Because he came home and found lots of strange men in his house, eating his food, said the kids.

So, I asked them, do you think that was a good reason to kill people?

No, they said, but he was very cross, and he didn’t do it because it was fun.

And then this KID, this SIX YEAR OLD CHILD, put her hand up and said “well, it was very bad of him, but if we’re cross with him then we have to be cross with Odysseus too, because when he came home from his adventure and found lots of men in his house, trying to marry his wife, he killed them, and that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

AND LET ME TELL YOU

I am a published Classicist! A PhD student! And I have never made that connection before! Not once! And this child was six years old! And she made the link! By herself!

And so I tried not to show how gobsmacked I was, and we talked more about other monsters, including Medusa, and at the end of the lesson a lot of them said that they thought the monsters were not as evil as we usually think, and then I went home.

But I honestly haven’t got over how excited and engaged those kids were, in a totally regular primary school. Classics, in that classroom, was not elitist or inaccessible. It was something they understood, could really get their teeth into and use to think of new ideas of good and bad, of why we demonise different people for doing the same things. And that’s how I like to think about Classics. Not a series of dry texts in ancient languages, but as living stories that you actually can’t help but love, just a bit.

#teashoesandhair #Classical Studies #appreciative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

rosenagldky-deactivated20201223

thoodleoo

what if every ancient text was translated in the style of dr. seuss

for example:

“I will not fight the Trojans!” Achilles then said.

“I will not fight them now or when you all are dead!

I won’t fight them at Troy. I won’t fight them at Greece.

I won’t fight them at war. I won’t fight them in peace.

I will not fight them while Agamemnon is king.

Do not try to bribe me- I won’t take your things.

I will not fight the Trojans, not here and not there.

I will not fight the Trojans- not anywhere.”

ciceronian

“You’re abusing our patience!” old Cicero said,

“And if there’s sense in the Senate they’ll soon have you dead!

Are you not alarmed by the people’s alarm?

Don’t you know that your plans will be doing us harm?

What is it you’re doing that I do not know?

Oh the times! Oh the morals! You really must go!

Since wise men must do what is best for the state,

we, the consuls, should kill you before it’s too late.”

bophtelophti

Let me sing about arms, let me sing of the man,

Let me sing of Aeneas’s Rome-founding plan!

How he sailed off to Italy, fleeing from Troy,

Escaping the Greeks with his dad and his boy:

He was driven by fate, he was punished by Juno,

He suffered in war—and that’s just the part you know.

@hecubas

Oh my God I love this

kingkilling-and-stormlight

@teashoesandhair please

teashoesandhair

The queen was quite lovely, but still it was true

her son was a minotaur, half bull through and through,

and when her old husband, king Minos, found out,

he cried out aloud, “what the fuck’s this about?

I do not like this half-bull child!

I do not find him meek and mild!

He keeps on eating all my staff!

I think he does it for a laugh!”

The queen was upset by her son’s attitude,

for eating the servants was really quite rude,

and although she still thought that she’d be a good mother,

there still was a risk that he’d eat his own brother.

“I do not like this minotaur!

I’ve never heard of one before!

I do not want him any more!

Let’s build a maze beneath the floor!”

As Minos had asked for, a labyrinth was built

and the minotaur lived there, not stricken with guilt

for the people he ate were now sacrificed there,

and he dined on their flesh without any despair.

thelibrarina

I offer my dick for your mouth and your ass And I do not care if you think that is crass. You tease and you mock me for being a bard, But you get weirded out when my words get you hard. Or you would, I suppose–but you both have limp dicks That even my thousand deep kisses can’t fix. But do not despair! I’m the picture of class– I’ll offer my dick for your mouth and your ass.

melinda-t-charville

That is probably the best translation of Catullus 16 I’ve ever read

#Poetry #Classical Poetry #Dr. Seuss #nsfw #thoodleloo #ciceronian #bophtelophti #teashoesandhair #thelibrarina #Gr8 Art #appreciative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

arrows-for-pens

friendly reminder that my university uses the taxidermied body of its founder as the chief librarian so every time i swipe my card to sit in the library and study he’s just sat in his glass cabinet following me w his sunken glass eyes like he knows i still have fines overdue

incase anyone thot i was kidding….like i know it was his own dying wish but someone shoulda said no….

he also attends meetings

marzipanandminutiae

oh it’s okay; that’s not his real head. it’s wax. you’re not actually seeing any of his body

teashoesandhair

Oh man, so, this is Jeremy Bentham. Jeremy sodding Bentham, architect of my earliest night frights. This bastard, this walnut-headed corpse, made me afraid to turn my night-light off for months. And I don’t even go here.

Things you need to know about this whole bloody farce:

firstly, as some people have pointed out, he’s not exactly in the library, which is probably for the best, because that honestly just hands students an excuse not to go to the library on a plate. “Sorry I didn’t do the reading, but Jeremy fucking Bentham was staring into my frightened soul again.” Universities rely on students not dropping out because they’re too afraid to study under the watchful eye of an eldritch abomination, so he’s in the cloister, apparently. Not that that’s much better.
secondly, no, that is not his real head. Don’t panic. You aren’t staring into the sunken eyes of a corpse. Instead, you’re staring into the sunken eyes of an eerily lifelike wax head, deliberately coloured so as to give the pallor of death and mummification which, as I’m sure we can all agree, is just fine. Why mummification, you ask?
well, because Jeremy Bentham was a bit weird, all things considered. From the age of 21, Bentham had bequeathed his body to be dissected by a family friend, which honestly is not what I’d personally use my illustrious family connections for, but that’s fine. This pal ultimately died before Bentham did, so Bentham’s dissection was carried out by his philosophical disciple, Thomas Southwood Smith. Bentham also instructed Smith to create an ‘auto icon’ of his body, which is a fancy way of saying ‘put me in a goddamn glass box and make me look as not-dead as possible’. This was to consist of his skeleton, padded out with hay and dressed in his favourite gladrags, and his actual mummified head, which was to be mummified so as to resemble Bentham as he was when he lived. However:
Bentham, although probably not ever in line to become the 6th member of One Direction, did not look like a raisin. His mummified head, though? Oh boy. Oh boy, did Smith fuck that up. He was something of a maverick, and decided to mummify Bentham’s head based on practices perfected by indigenous peoples of New Zealand. Those practitioners had had centuries to perfect their art. Smith did not. The end result is honestly too creepy for me to post here, but needless to say, it did not look like Bentham did in life. Unless Bentham looked like a shrunken prune with wispy white hair, anyway.
for a long time, Bentham’s body was displayed with the skeleton and wax head making up his ‘auto icon’, with his real head in a box by his feet. A side note here: I once saw a photo of this as a kid and it gave me nightmares for about 6 months. Howevs, Bentham is on display at a university, so you know what that means. Yes, it means that students kept stealing the head as a fun prank. Let me repeat that: for a jovial funtime goof, teens stole the disembodied, shrivelled skull of the father of modern utilitarianism. Which is fine.
the only real parts of Bentham in that figure now are his hair, which they took from the skull, and his skeleton. Not that that makes it any less creepy, but this is essentially a headless classroom skeleton in a fancy padded outfit with a wax head. Writing it out, that kind of makes it worse.
the real head is now locked away, ostensibly so that students can’t keep terrifying their flatmates with it by using it as the world’s most haunting Scream mask, but probably in reality just to stop the fucking nightmares.
except it’s about to go on display again, so run for the hills, I guess.

#teashoesandhair #Jeremy Bentham #University College London #Auto Icon #Humans are Strange #informative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

rosenagldky-deactivated20201223

teashoesandhair

Anonymous asked:

"or pronounced the same as ‘sh’, as in ‘machine’." Sharon, immortal ferryman of the dead

teashoesandhair answered:

It had only been a week, thought Hades. One sodding week. And really, wasn’t that just the kicker? He’d had the gall - no, the audacity - to take one whole week off work, and this was what he got in return. Seven days of sunning himself in the Bahamas, trying to take his mind off the constant wails of the dead, and this was the price. A golden tan that would be the envy of Zeus and Aphrodite for weeks to come, and this.

The woman cleared her throat, shifting her weight in the boat so that it rocked on the river Styx in an ominous manner.

“That’ll be one coin, love,” she said, disinterestedly inspecting what looked like a broken gemstone on one of her pink nails.

“Right,” said Hades, “there’s a problem with that. Two, actually.”

The woman sighed, pushing a hand through pristine platinum hair in agitation. “Look, if you don’t have the fee, then - ”

“No, it’s not that,” Hades interrupted. “It’s - look, can I speak to Persephone about this?”

The woman frowned and folded her arms. Her bangles jingled as she did so. “No coin, no voyage across the Styx into the realm of the dead,” she said. “I can call Persephone, but I don’t think she’ll appreciate it, to be honest. She’s got an appointment.”

Hades inhaled, counted to five, and exhaled again. He could see his breath in the cold underground air. “An appointment.”

“Yes,” the woman affirmed, nodding. “Something to do with her husband coming home, wanting to surprise him with some new hairstyle. I hear he’s been basking in warmer climes, left her to do all the housekeeping and then some. It’s all right for some, innit?”

Hades cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he said, abashed. “He does have quite a busy job, I think. He hasn’t taken time off in about four centuries.”

“I don’t even get a lunch break,” the woman countered, pursing her lips, which, Hades noticed, were painted a rather odd shade of frosted pink. “The dead wait for no man. Or woman. Or sandwich and a little sit down, apparently.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hades agreed. “But you see, the person who usually does your job - and where is he, by the way? - he doesn’t actually need to eat.”

The woman frowned. “We can’t all be Kate Moss.”

“I don’t even know who that is,” Hades sighed. “But I really do need to speak to Persephone, because I don’t have any money on me at all. I don’t carry change.”

The woman nodded sympathetically. “See,” she said, “I’ve been hassling Persephone to get one of those card machines. Contactless payment, that’s the best thing really, but just a normal credit card thing would be fine. No-one carries cash any more, do they? Not unless they need to scratch off the little bit on a scratch card, and honestly, I think that’s a dying market and all. It’s all online, innit?”

Hades blinked. The woman stared up at him, waiting for an answer to what Hades was only now realising was a genuine question.

“Yes,” he offered meekly, and the woman beamed.

“See, I knew I was onto something,” she said. She gestured towards the front of the boat, which sagged somewhat sadly forwards with the shift in weight. “It could go there, you see? Then, all the people could queue up and it would be a much more efficient process.” She hummed. “I’m wasted as a psychopomp, honestly. Customer service was always my forté. That and nail art.”

Again, the wait. The eager stare. Hades thought about death.

“Yes,” he repeated.

The woman grinned again, apparently delighted. Then, pretending to stealthily look around, she leaned closer to Hades, and began speaking in a stage whisper.

“Look,” she said. “The boss won’t like this much, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

“Technically correct,” agreed Hades, because it was.

“So,” the woman continued, “I’ll let you across this time, free of charge, on the condition that if you’re ever saved from this realm by one of those do-gooder hero types, you pay the fee twice on your return. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Hades, “although I have to warn you that it’s very unlikely that any hero will ever try and save me.”

“You never know,” the woman said, steering the boat closer to the shore so that Hades could step on board. “We get all sorts rescued from down here. Just two days ago, I managed to stop this pair of teenagers. Trying to keep their love eternal, they said. Bollocks to that, I said. No love is eternal. Just ask my friend Janet, I said; she was married twice. Love of her life, Jason was, until he fucked off to Malaga with bloody Helen, of all people. Pete wasn’t much better. Treated her like a princess, he did, until she lost her job at the insurance agency and - ”

“I think we’re here,” said Hades politely as the boat drew closer towards the shore of the opposite bank, and the woman stopped.

“You’re right,” she said. “We are. Time flies, doesn’t it?”

“In temporally disconnected otherworlds, generally,” Hades said, and stepped out of the boat and straight into Persephone.

“Hello dear,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek, once she had disentangled her poncho from his kilt. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Your hair is green,” Hades replied, and Persephone grinned, making Hades’ heart flutter like he was an extra in Teen Wolf.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I am going to show you exactly how much I like it,” Hades replied, thinking of the tub of cream cheese hidden under his bed, “as soon as you tell me where the Hades Charon has got to.”

“Oh,” said Persephone, frowning. “I gave him the week off. He hasn’t had a day off in four hundred years, you see, so I said he could take that trip to Atlantis that he’s always wanted to take. I didn’t tell him that Google Maps seemed to suggest that he might have a hard time finding a Travel Lodge there, or at least one without an excessively large indoor swimming pool.”

“I love you immeasurably,” said Hades, “but who is this woman?”

“Sharon,” said the woman, doing a dainty little finger wave. “Hiya.”

“Oh,” said Hades. “That name can’t be a coincidence. Are you related to Charon, by any chance? Great niece? Great great great granddaughter? Aunt?”

“I just picked her because I thought it was funny, to be honest,” said Persephone.

“I worked really hard on my CV,” protested Sharon.

“She doesn’t even get lunch breaks,” said Hades.

“I haven’t had a day off in five and a half months,” said Persephone.

“I quit,” said Sharon. "I’m leaving this boat here and I’m going back to the salon. I got a coffee break there, at least. All this psychopomp stuff is doing my nut in.”

With that, she stormed off, leaving a trail of muddy heel prints behind her.

As the sound of her footsteps quietened down, Hades and Persephone looked at the empty boat, bobbing morosely on the velvet waters of the Styx. Devoid of the dead or the living, it really did just look like a normal boat; wooden slats for seats, a woodworm rotted prow, one oar missing. It hardly screamed ‘vessel of the dead’.

At least, not yet.

“We should get a card machine,” said Hades.

“Oh my god, I know, right?” said Persephone.

#teashoesandhair #Greek Mythology #Hades #Charon #Sharon #Persephone #Homonyms #Word Play #Excellent #u_u #Shortfic #Gr8 Art #appreciative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

clonerightsagenda

teashoesandhair

Anonymous asked:

Hi! I love your re-tellings so much! can you re-tell my favourite norse myth? it's the one about Sleipnir *grins*

teashoesandhair answered:

I have a confession to make here. I was supposed to do this one back in May, but real life took over and it did not occur. However, it has totally occurred now. Look at it occurring right here.

If you don’t want to read a poorly retold tale about the perils of freelance masonry, press J on your keyboard to skip it now, as this is a long post. Facts and whatnot under the Read More, as usual!

Why I can’t watch War Horse

OK, so. This story is set right at the start, when all theworlds are new and the Æsir have just built Valhalla and Justin Bieber hasn’tcompleted his metamorphosis from tiny tween poptart to unthinkable eldritchmonstrosity. It’s a long time ago, that’s what I’m saying. Anyway, one day, theÆsir are just hanging around, doing stuff that Æsir like to do on their daysoff, like getting drunk and eating meat and braiding each other’s hair, whenthis huge dude just walks right up to them and clears his throat. The Æsir arelike “who even are you? This is our super special hall of alcohol and rawanimal flesh, you can’t just waltz in here like someone’s maiden auntie. IfThor were here, he’d totally go upside your head with his super special hammer, but luckily for you, he’s off fighting trolls, so we’ll just probably kill you with axes and shit.”

At that, the dude raises his hands in surrender and he’s like “yo guys, I’m not a frost giant. That isthe absolute last thing that I am. If you were to make a list of 10 things thatI am, ‘frost giant’ would not even be anywhere near that list. It wouldprobably be on a list called something like ’10 things I am definitely not,100%’. But hey, I’ll forgive the insult, because I’m selling and you’re buying,and what I am selling is a building opportunity, and that is also what you arebuying” and the Æsir are like “that was a very confusing sales pitch, couldyou maybe elaborate further and possibly include some salient details, likeyour rates and your certificate of incorporation and maybe what you’re actuallytalking about” and the builder guy is all “well, what I am talking about is agiant wall” and the Æsir are like “oh my us, we fucking love giant walls,please lubricate our godly ears with more of your sweet honey tales” and thebuilder puffs up his impressive chest and says “I will elaborate fully in justa few moments, but firstly can I just check something? Did you say that Thorwasn’t here?” and the Æsir do one big synchronised nod and they’re all “he’s off killing trolls, which is probably a euphemism for killing frost giants and also trolls” and the builder is like“sweet, in that case, let me make you an offer that you can’t refuse, or at thevery least an offer that you can absolutely refuse but that you would regret refusinguntil your dying day”.

So, the builder launches into this amazing sales pitch, witha flow chart and a graph and some stickers in the shape of smiley faces andstars, and at the end of it, he summarises his pitch by saying “so, inconclusion, I am offering to build you a very big wall in order to keep outtrolls and frost giants and double glazing salesman, and all I’m asking for inreturn is the sun and the moon and also Freyja” and the Æsir are like “this isa very reasonable offer, we’ll consider it” and Freyja is like “hang on, can wemaybe negotiate his rates, this seems a bit steep to me” and the Æsir are all “Freyja,with all due respect, you know absolutely nothing about the economy” and Freyjasays “no, but seriously, can we maybe just talk about this for a moment,because I don’t think we’re getting a very good deal here, there must be acompetitive market for wall building” and the Æsir are about to silence heragain when Loki stands up. He raises his hands benevolently and he’s all “guys,I’m the best at negotiation here – I think we can all appreciate the time Imanaged to negotiate Thor into wearing a dress” and the others are like “whendid that happen?” and he’s all “well, technically it hasn’t happened yet, butmythological canon means that the people hearing this story are probablyalready aware of it, so let’s gloss over that aspect and just assume that I’mgreat” and the Æsir just agree, because honestly it’s easier that way.

Loki walks up to the builder and folds his arms, doing hisbest impression of Lord Sugar before he got all weird and started ranting onTwitter about Piers Morgan and popular East London-based BBC soap operas, and says “we agree to your rates, but we’re goingto impose some conditions, and if you don’t meet both of them, you won’t get anypayment but we’ll still get to keep the wall. Firstly, you have to complete thework in a single winter, which might sound a bit like a fool’s errand, butremember that this is a Norse myth and it’s basically always winter, so if youthink about it, we’re being exceptionally generous. Secondly, you’re notallowed to have any man to help you. Not one single solitary man. Zero men.None at all. Is that clear?” and the builder bites his lip for a moment andasks “so, let me get this straight. I’m not allowed a man to help me?” and Lokinarrows his eyes and says “no, not even one” and the builder is like “no man atall? Absolutely 0% of a man? Man to the power of zero, minus one?” and Loki is like “yes,I thought I was very clear on that point if I’m honest” and the builder is like“so I can totally get my magic horse to help me?” and Loki says “ah. Well, youtotally diddled me on that one. Ha, I feel embarrassed now. I guess this momentwill come back to haunt me in horrendous fashion. Well, we’ve agreed, so it looks like you can have yourmagic horse, then. Wow, this is going in my diary” and the builder is like “ace,I’ll get to work right away, Freyja is going to look so good on my mantelpiece”and he goes off to begin his work.

A few months go past, and eventually the winter begins todraw to a close. The wall is nearly finished, because the builder’s horse,Svadilfari, turns out to be absolutely incredible. Like, the builder is quitegood – he’s particularly skilled at doing those little cornices that really addan air of sophistication to the even the most functional architecture – but Svadilfari is just somethingelse. He can lift the weight of ten normal horses, pull twenty carts at once,and his masonry is just a textbook example of the craft. By the last week ofwinter, the wall is hundreds of feet high and absolutely unassailable, andthere’s only a tiny gap left to be completed. Obviously, the Æsir are kind ofpissed off about this, having grown kind of attached to the sun and the moonand also Freyja, and so they decide to hold a meeting.

At the meeting, Freyja is all “so, are you guys regrettingnot driving a harder bargain yet?” and the Æsir are like “we are absolutelyblameless in this, it was Loki who said he could use the horse” and Loki says “infairness, it was all a matter of semantics. It could have happened to anydevious trickster god” and the Æsir are like “we could probably make a punhere about scapegoats and horses, but instead we’re just going to tell you thatit’s up to you to make sure that he doesn’t finish that damn wall” and Lokiasks “what exactly will happen if he finishes the wall?” and Freyja is like “Iwill personally strangle you myself with my bare hands after my unfortunatewedding, because a lifetime in jail is preferable to being married to that man”and Loki is all “fine, I’ll fix it, as per usual. Trickster god? More like fixter god, am I right?” and before thegods can deservedly beat him into a bloody pulp for that pun, he scampers off.

Back at the wall, the builder and the horse are working at aleisurely pace, just trading jokes about Game of Thrones and Stardust and otherwall-based pop culture texts, when suddenly Svadilfari catches the scent ofsome sweet lady horse pheromones. He turns around, dropping an entire load ofmasonry as he does so, only to see an absolutely goddamn beautiful lady horsestanding right behind him. Now, I feel kind of weird describing a horse asbeautiful, but you know those pictures of animals that are floating around theinternet with comments like ‘this horse is more beautiful than me’ and ‘thiscat has eyes like fucking limpid pools’ and ‘where did that chicken get itshighlighter from, because that glow is gorgeous’?Just apply those appreciative comments to your mental image of this horse.Being a horse, Svadilfari’s appreciation of this fine equine specimen is much less ‘ifI were a horse, I would want to be that one’ and more ‘I am a horse, and I wantto mount that one’, and so he chases right after her, leaving the builder alonewith a pile of cracked masonry, and he doesn’t come back.

A week passes, and the builder is still struggling to finishthe last section of the wall when winter finally ends. The Æsir rush over tohim just as he’s putting in one of the last stones, and they say “right, winteris over and there’s still a fucking huge gaping hole in our wall” and thebuilder blanches and he’s like “it’s not a hole, it’s a feature window” and theÆsir are like “but you promised it would be an impregnable wall, which seemsincompatible with feature windows” and the builder is like “well, I was goingto fill it with stone just now to make it a secure feature window” and theÆsir are all “so what you’re saying is that you were going to put a stone inthat hole” and the builder is like “yes” and the Æsir are like “so you were going to finish building the wall, essentially” and the builder slumps his shoulders and says “in a nutshell, yes”and the Æsir say triumphantly “just so that we’re on the same page here, are you saying that you haven’t finished putting stones into the holes needed to be filled in order to complete the impenetrable wall?” and this isapparently the catalyst for the builder to fly into an absolutely stupendousrage. He starts screaming and swearing like Freyja on a Friday night, andsuddenly Loki has a brainwave. He leans over to Freyja and says “did this manever show us his General Business License?” and Freyja shakes her head, andLoki is like “what about his certificate of VAT incorporation?” and Freyjashrugs, and Loki says “not even his IRS form W-9?” and Freyja whispers “literallynothing, now can you stop talking? I’m trying to get some tips on how to have aterrifying temper tantrum, you just can’t read about this shit” and Loki is like “listen, I have very good reason tobelieve that this man is not a builder at all, but is actually a frost giant.”

As soon as Loki has said those words, a huge roar begins torumble over the mountains, and like a distant cousin at the rattling of yourgrandmother’s purse, Thor suddenly appears. He glares the Æsir, eyes flashingand voice booming, and he’s all “did someone say ‘frost giant’?” and Lokipoints at the builder and says “I said it, but I was directing it at this fellowhere, so maybe you could stop looking at me like I’ve done something terrible,even if that is generally the case, and start knocking some sense into andalso maybe some organs out of him” and Thor picks up Mjolnir and does justthat.

As Thor is doing his job, the Æsir turn to Loki and they’reall “so, how did you get the builderto slow down?” and Loki shudders and he’s like “you don’t want to know” andFreyja says “I really want to know, because I owe you one and I want to knowwhat to write in your thank-you card”. Loki sighs and he’s like “let’s just saythat I horsed around” and the Æsir all blink in synchronicity, notunderstanding what the Hel Loki is talking about, and so he adds “I acted lessthan cheval-rously” and Freyja says “can you maybe explain without usinghorse-based puns” and Loki is like “look, I turned into a horse and I fuckedthe builder’s stallion, I’m not proud of it” and the Æsir are just silent fora few moments, and then Freyja is like “did you at any point consider juststealing the builder’s horse instead” and Loki is all “you don’t know me, you don’t know what I’m about” andFreyja is like “you could have just led it away with a sugar cube” and Lokisays “I am a Trickster god, just trust me on this one” and Freyja says “I amnot writing you a thank-you card any more, but I will absolutely write you a recommendation for some serious therapy” and they all leave Loki to ruminateabout his sins to the stirring ballad of Thor’s battle cries.

So, the Æsir have a brand spanking new wall which they gotfor free, and the whole thing is essentially a parable for the dangers ofconducting freelance business in an unstable economic environment. But that’snot the end of the story, because a few months later, Loki gives birth to the offspringof Svadilfari in the form of a splendid eight-legged horse named Sleipnir, whoOdin takes one look at and decides to use as his own noble steed, becausenothing gives you bragging rights at the stable quite like being able to say “thishorse is my own grandson in Marvel canon”.

My other retellings can be found here; my dedicated mythology blog is here; and my Mythology Mondays Facebook page is here. Sugar cubes all round.

Keep reading

#teashoesandhair #Norse Mythology #Long Post #Loki #Freya #Sleipnir #Not Homestuck #appreciative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

rosenagldky-deactivated20201223

teashoesandhair

natalunasans asked:

pls remind us, is that the same dude that commissioned the King James Bible??

teashoesandhair answered:

HECK YES IT IS

This is a long post, by the way - you can press J to skip if you’re not interested in queer British monarchs and SECRET TUNNELS

The dude who commissioned the King James Bible - unsurprisingly, a dude who was a king and also named James - is perhaps the best example of all time of two phenomena, depending on how you look at it. Either he’s the greatest example of twisting doctrine to fit your own agenda, or he’s the perfect proof that the Bible hasn’t always been interpreted as being anti-homosexuality. I personally like to think the latter, but people have argued the former.

I do not have the time to go into massive detail here, but essentially, James I of England (and VI of Scotland) was very much into men. He liked them quite a lot. This was not a secret, and neither is it generally considered to be up for debate, although there are many Bible scholars and religious zealots today who still hold James I up as a pinnacle of modern virtue due to his role in ensuring that the word of the Bible could be understood by the masses. There are a shit ton of poorly constructed HTML websites written by crazy religious fundamentalists about how all allegations of his conduct with men were nothing but political propaganda, and punctuate their diatribes heavily with exclamation marks. There’s a point to be made about the sexual morals of the time and the subsequent use of James’ same-sex relationships as a political tool (see the poem by de Viau below) but there’s substantial evidence that these accusations were made based on real evidence rather than a simple smear campaign.

Here is the evidence - and yes, there’s a lot of it - that we have for James’ same-sex romantic dalliances:

when James was 14, he grew close to the man who would later become the Earl of Lennox, whose name was Esmé Stuart. The exact nature of their relationship has never been confirmed, but even as it unfolded, James’ contemporaries were concerned about its nature. One clergyman is on the record as remarking ‘the Duke of Lennox went about to draw the King to carnal lust’, and it was often remarked that the two were openly physically affectionate, which was not hugely popular. Stuart converted from Catholicism to please James, and James made him first the gentleman of the bedchamber and then finally the Earl of Lennox. This pattern of bestowing titles upon his ‘favourites’ became a real point of contention at James’ court. Lennox was later exiled at the request of a bunch of salty old Scottish lords, and James was the definition of Not Happy. He became the definition of Even Less Happy when, after a few years of covert letters, Lennox had the audacity to pop his clogs in 1583. Rude.
his next affair was with a young man named Robert Carr, who impressed the king in 1607 by falling off a horse and breaking his leg. That sounds like the best meet-cute ever, but the two had met briefly in 1603, when Carr had attempted to become a page-boy for the royal coach, and the whole “oh shit, I’ve had an equine mishap and fractured my tibia” incident brought them together in true rom-com style. A courtier wrote that Carr was granted ‘all favours’, with the king ‘teaching him Latin every morning’, which is definitely a euphemism. Carr, like Stuart before him, was made a gentleman of the bedchamber, writing in a letter that Carr ‘deserved more trust and confidence of me than ever man did’. This didn’t last, though. In 1615, James wrote a letter accusing Carr - who was now the Earl of Somerset - of rebuking his advances, writing that Carr had been ‘withdrawing yourself from lying in my chamber, notwithstanding my many hundred times earnest soliciting you to the contrary’. Shortly afterwards, it emerged that Carr’s wife - who James had arranged for him to marry at Carr’s request - had poisoned Sir Thomas Overbury, who had disapproved of the marriage. Carr was also implicated, and apparently attempted to blackmail the king by threatening to reveal their relationship in court, although this may well be nothing but rumour. Carr and his wife were found guilty and sentenced to death, but after seven years’ imprisonment in the Tower of London, James ultimately pardoned them and sent them off to the country in disgrace. Also rude.
James’ most well-known affair was with George Villiers, who was a relatively poor and title-less man. He and James met in 1614 - which, you’ll notice, is around the time of James’ tiff with Robert Carr - and by 1615, Villiers had been made a knight, followed by the title of Duke of Buckingham in 1623. We know the most about James’ relationship with Villiers because several contemporary sources survive, including letters between the two men and satirical poems and statements written about them by their political detractors. For example, the poet Théophile de Viau wrote a poem in protest at Villiers’ dukedom:Apollo with his songsDebauched the young Hyacinthus,If Corridon fucks Amyntas,Caesar loved only boys.One man fucks the Baron of BellegardeAnother fucks the Count / Earl of Tonnerre.And this learned King of England,Did he not fuck the Duke of Buckingham?I have neither the status nor the rankWhich makes a Marquis of a wench.And yet, you know I fuckAs well as any Prince of royal blood.The original was in French, and definitely sounded 100% less immature. We also have many letters between James and Villiers, in which they address each other as ‘husband’ and ‘wife’, as well as ‘sweet child’ and ‘dad’, which is honestly a bit creepy, but also somewhat homoerotic. For example, here is an example of some of the text from a letter written by James: I desire only to live in this world for your sake… I had rather live banished in any part of the Earth with you than live a sorrowful widow’s life without you… God bless you, my sweet child and wife, and grant that ye may ever be a comfort to your dear dad and husband.Kinky. Here’s another example:I naturally so love your person, and adore all your other parts, which are more than ever one man had, that were not only all your people but all the world besides set together on one side and you alone on the other, I should to obey and please you displease, nay, despise them all.Villiers also wrote in a letter ‘sir, all the way hither I entertained myself, your unworthy servant, with this dispute, whether you loved me now… better than at the time which I shall never forget at Farnham, where the bed’s head could not be found between the master and his dog’. Villiers and James were so close that Villiers was there in 1625 when James died of gout related illnesses, which really has to show something, because gout is unpleasant. James’ son, who became Charles I, also kept Villiers as a court favourite, but there’s no evidence that their relationship was anything other than mildly paternal.
gossip at the time certainly supposed that James’ relationships with these male favourites were sexual. As in the case of the poem quoted above, many people believed that James was falling prey to lascivious men who wanted nothing more than to be granted favour, titles and wealth, and who knew that the best way to do this was to allow James to take them as lovers (and fuck them, according to most contemporary gossips). One account states ‘in wanton looks and wanton gestures they exceeded any part of womankind. The kissing them after so lascivious a mode in public and upon the theatre, as it were, of the world prompted many to imagine some things done in the tyring house that exceed my expression no less than they do my experience.’And this is where the whole thing gets a bit squiffy, actually, because all the evidence thus far certainly seems to relate to some naughty bedroom antics - and the evidence that the two were sexually involved really stacks up, especially when you consider that there was a secret tunnel linking their bedchambers at Apethorpe Hall - but the degree of their afternoon delight remains a mystery, because -
James was vocally opposed to sodomy. He considered it as part of the specific list of ‘horrible crimes which ye are bound in conscience never to forgive’ as a king, singling it out as a crime that judges were never to pardon in any circumstance. However, it would be fallacious to accuse James of hypocrisy here, as many historians have done. The fact is that we don’t know that James would have been guilty of this perceived crime himself. In vocally opposing sodomy, he did not oppose any other form of sex act or relationship between men, so in theory, according to James, anything else goes. Given his reputation for piety (evidenced by THE GODDAMN KING JAMES BIBLE) it seems absolutely fair to assume that he was among those who have interpreted the Bible as being anti sodomy rather than anti homosexuality. This is further evidenced by his use of scripture to justify his relationships with men: I, James, am neither a god nor an angel, but a man like any other. Therefore I act like a man and confess to loving those dear to me more than other men. You may be sure that I love the Earl of Buckingham more than anyone else, and more than you who are here assembled. I wish to speak in my own behalf and not to have it thought to be a defect, for Jesus Christ did the same, and therefore I cannot be blamed. Christ had John, and I have George.In other words, ‘men love each other IN THE BIBLE, they just don’t do things with their bottoms’. Which, when you think about it, is the kind of loophole that religious zealots are known for exploiting even today (’it doesn’t count as losing your virginity if it’s anal!’). So, the questions of whether or not James was overcompensating in his denouncement of sodomy or whether he truly believed that the Bible permitted same sex relationships within certain frameworks; whether he was sexually active with his male companions to any degree or whether he favoured a chaste bond devoid of sex (meaning that Villiers’ letters could be interpreted as a kind of sexual roleplay rather than a recounting of any particular sexual account) and whether or not he ever felt that his relationships with men were in any way juxtaposed or at odds with his religious convictions - all of this is open to conjecture.

So, tl;dr, the man who commissioned the translation of the Bible, which so many bigots and religious zealots now use to denounce homosexuality as a sin, used passages from that very Bible to justify and contextualise his own affairs with men. Awkward, Westboro Baptist Church.

Sources: Rictor Norton, “Queen James and His Courtiers”, Gay History and Literature, 8 January 2000, updated 9 January 2012 Bergeron, David M (1999). King James and Letters of Homoerotic Desire. Iowa: University of Iowa Press. Crompton, Louis (2006). Homosexuality and Civilization. USA: Harvard University Press.http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/7436409.stm - about the tunnel at Apethorpe Hall! See also: http://www.icon.org.uk/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=546:gay-royal-lovenest-restored&catid=1:news-desk&Itemid=15

#teashoesandhair #King James I #English History #Homophobia #History of the Bible #The King James Edition #Not Homestuck #informative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

melongumi

teashoesandhair

Anonymous asked:

Can we have the naming of Athens? Let's see some trash talking gods!

teashoesandhair answered:

That is definitely something that you can have, because it is the festive season and I’m in a giving sort of mood.

Those of you who don’t want to read an awfully told retelling of a myth about a benevolent serpent king and two trash-talkin’ gods should probably press J on their keyboard now as this is quite a lengthy post, but really, if you don’t want to read that, then you’re probably busy being boring at parties, so. Relevant historical / literary info under the Read More, as usual!

~*~

A very long time ago, there lived an immensely epic dude named Cecrops. Cecrops is kind of a big deal for two reasons: firstly, because he’s half snake and guys who are half snake tend to be kind of a big deal, and secondly because he’ the king of a fruitful and civilised city state named ???. ??? is basically a utopia, with all the cool shit that you kind of expect from a city, like a social hierarchy and a hegemonic lifestyle and probably those drunk dudes that like to hang around in doorways and talk about their ex-wives and the end of the world and how we should all be wearing tin foil on our heads. Basically, ??? has everything that a city could want, except for one thing: a fucking name, which is a real problem because it’s really hard for Cecrops to brag at parties about his rad city state when he has to keep referring to it as ‘my city state’, and so Cecrops decides that enough is enough, and it’s time to sort this shit out. I don’t really understand why this wasn’t the first thing that Cecrops did when he became king of a new nation, like he established a watertight legal system and an education system and all that shit before he even thought of a fucking name, but whatever, that’s his prerogative.

So, one glorious day, Cecrops goes to the gods and he’s like “yo, do any of you want to be the patron deity for my awesome and economically viable city?” and all the gods are like “are you kidding me, that sounds like a lot of work, honestly I don’t know how I’d fit that role into my busy schedule of adultery and homicide” and Cecrops is all “look, it’s not really a very big job. To be honest, you could probably do most of the work with a hot nymph under your desk” and then Poseidon is like “wait, we’d get a desk? Tell me more!” and Cycrops says ”well, to be honest, I’ve told you as much as the job entails already” and Poseidon is like “but would the desk be big enough to fit a sea nymph under it at boring board meetings?” and Athena is like “what’s your city called?” and Cecrops is like “???” and Athena is all “wow, could you repeat that please” and Cecrops is like “honestly, there’s no merit in repeating it, the basic premise is that I don’t have a name for it yet, so maybe we could throw that into the deal as well” and Poseidon is like “yes, but tell me more about the desk” and Athena says “so, let me get this straight - we get to name your city for you?” and Cecrops nods and Poseidon and Athena look at one another.

Poseidon is like “well, I have a solution to this whole thing” and Athena is like “what a coincidence, so do I!” and Poseidon says “it’s clear to me that we should name this city after the greatest god of all” and Athena is like “wow, I actually completely agree with you” and Poseidon says “the god with the greatest abs on Olympus” and Athena nods and says “we’re totally on the same wavelength even though I honestly thought we’d never agree on anything, you’ve risen in my lowly estimation” and Poseidon is like “we’ll name it after the god with biceps that rival Heracles’ in a hall of mirrors” and Athena is like “you mean the god with lustrous flowing locks like spun gold?” and Poseidon nods and says “the god with a jawline stronger than Hera’s desire for occasional infanticide” and Athena is like “let me just say that firstly, I agree, my stepmother really needs to step back from the whole child slaughter thing, I mean it’s becoming more than just an interesting personality quirk at this point and more of an actual complex, and secondly, I am honestly just so flattered that you agree with me that we should name this city after my fine self” and Poseidon blinks a big watery blink and says “bro, I meant me” and Athena just looks at him and starts laughing, and she says “you think you should be the patron deity of Cecrops’ fucking incredible city?” and Poseidon is like “yeah, obviously, as the god of water I’d be able to offer it protection from all its borders, and also I really want a desk” and Athena is all “but I’m the god of strategic warfare, so clearly I’d be better at the job, and anyway, I already know what I’d name it, and let me tell you, it’s bitchin’”.

At this point, Cecrops is just watching the two of them and regretting all his life choices that have led him up to this point, and Poseidon says “well, there’s only one way to settle this, isn’t there?” and Athena grits her genuinely astonishing jaw and says “I hope you’re prepared for the waters of your homestead to run red with the blood of your horribly unprepared allies” and Poseidon folds his awe-inspiringly sculpted arms and says “the only thing that will flow in my waters is the milk and honey from my new and prosperous city state” and Athena is like “bring it, Puddles” and Poseidon is about to make a really stinging quip about how Athena’s helmet totally makes her look like a giant metal thumb when Cecrops slithers in between the two of them and looks at them pleadingly, and he’s like “look, you don’t need to go to war over this, let’s just have a friendly competition that’s fun for all the family”.

Athena and Poseidon are all “what kind of competition?” and Cecrops is like “well, how about you both present the city of ??? with the greatest and most useful gift that you can create, and whichever one of you gives the best present can name the city” and Poseidon is like “I take it a Playstation 4 isn’t really the kind of thing you’re looking for” and he looks at Athena and they narrow their sparkling eyes and shake hands, and Cecrops sighs in relief.

So, the three of them make their way to the Acropolis to hold the contest, and on the way there, Poseidon and Athena are just trash-talking the entire way, slaying each other with verbal spars sharper than the silhouette of Apollo’s cheekbones against the Grecian dusk. Athena’s like “you know why you’re the god of water?” and Poseidon is like “because I make the ladies wet?” and Athena is all “no, because you’re wet” and Poseidon just shrugs and says “yeah, well, I look in the mirror a lot, so it’s an inevitable consequence. Also, do you know why you’re the god of strategic warfare?” and Athena is like “because I’m the only hero in the entire pantheon who doesn’t get immediately distracted by dick?” and Poseidon is like “no, because you’re going to be falling on your sword when you fail this challenge and have to walk out through the gates of Poseidonia” and Athena is like “Poseidonia sounds like the name of a feminine hygiene product, which I guess you could copyright at some point as it’ll never be the name of a city” and eventually they get to the Acropolis and Cecrops stands in front of them and an entire crowd of eager and terrified citizens of ???, and the metaphorical battle commences.

First, Poseidon raises his massive three-speared trident, the one that he’s always insisted isn’t compensating for anything, and then he pauses for dramatic effect, side-eyeing the crowd until he’s sure that everyone’s watching, and then he winks at this hot girl in the front of the crowd and he slams his trident down into the ground like he’s crushing the skulls of his enemies, and from the point where his trident strikes the earth, this huge spring just bursts out of the ground, flowing around the city and creating a brand new sea. Everyone is immediately impressed, and Cecrops is like “that’s honestly astonishing, as the god of the sea I had absolutely no idea that you would produce a water based miracle, this is truly something to tell the grandkids” and Poseidon grins smugly and says “yeah, it’s kind of a big deal, huh” and Cecrops is like “totally, I’m really looking forward to my city finally having a supply of clean drinking water” and Poseidon is all “the water supply of Poseidonia is the main point on my ruling mandate” and Cecrops looks confused and he’s like “why do you care about the moistness of a feminine hygiene product?”

Then this woman rushes forward from the crowd and takes a drink of the water and spits it out and Poseidon is about to make a joke about spitting and swallowing when the woman shouts “this water tastes saltier than Poseidon’s dick” and Poseidon is angry because she’s taken away his chance to make an absolutely incredibly dick joke and she’s also denounced his gift as being completely useless. Cecrops looks at Poseidon and he’s like “the people of my city can’t drink salt” and Poseidon is like “that’s not what your mum said last night, fuck you, this is an awesome gift” and Cecrops is like “well, it’s a very nice sea, but I’m not sure what use we’d have for it” and Poseidon just pouts and says “beach holidays” and Cecrops nods slowly and says “maybe Athena should give us her gift now”.

Athena grins and she’s like “looks like it’s my turn in saline" and Poseidon just trembles with rage and steps back to let her take centre stage. Immediately, Athena kneels down and touches the earth really gently, like Zeus stroking his own enraptured reflection, and from where her fingers touch the ground this tiny olive tree sprouts. Like, it’s not really a tree, to be honest; it’s basically a sapling, all sickly and green. It’s more pitiful than Apollo at a speed dating event, and Poseidon immediately starts cackling, like "is that the best you can do? Stop, stop, I can’t even look at it any more, it’s making me cry, I want to put it out of its misery" and Athena just shrugs and says "well, it’s pretty rad actually for many reasons. Firstly, the people of ??? can use the olives to garnish their salads, so they too can partake in the bourgeois dietary habits of the millennial generation, whatever that is. Secondly, they can use the wood from the tree to build their homes, and I always thought that homes were kind of cool. Thirdly, they can use the oil from the tree to light their lanterns, which means that people can make love with the lights on and spice up their love lives in a whole variety of ways. I mean, really, I don’t know how this gift is anything but the best thing ever" and Cecrops just blinks, awestruck, and he’s like "holy fucking shit, that’s the greatest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, I want at least six of those trees in all my good rooms and also the city is yours, name it whatever you want", and Athena is like "you know, I was going to name it Poseidon’s Salty Tears, but I think I like Athens better" and Cecrops is like "fine by me, Athens it is" and the people of Athens rejoice because finally they can pronounce the name of their own city and also they really fucking love olives.

Poseidon is furious, and he’s like “are you fucking kidding me, I literally created an entire sea for these people and she just planted a fucking tree, this is worse than the time One Direction came third on X Factor” and he goes off in a tantrum, drowning a whole load of shit and just creating new seas everywhere, because touching the ground and making it spurt salty water just does it for him somehow, and Athena goes back to Mount Olympus as the patron deity of Athens, and the whole city is ruled happily by Cecrops and they all live happily ever after under the benevolent rule of their terrifying serpent king.

~*~

More mythological goodness can be found here, here and here. The latter two links also allow you to follow my progress in writing a whole actual book. Thrilling.

From now on I’m calling Poseidon ‘Puddles’

teashoesandhair

You go right ahead, but if you wake up one day and find that your entire nation is flooded, don’t blame me.

#teashoesandhair #Poseidon #Athena #Cecrops #Mythology #Greek Myth #How Athens got its Name #Modern Retellings #Not Homestuck #appreciative reblogs

zenosanalytic reblogged

clonerightsagenda

teashoesandhair

Anonymous asked:

whoa ok step back, daedalus built a cow suit for a woman who wanted to fuck a bull and that's why the minotaur WAS A THING? I DID NOT KNOW THIS

teashoesandhair answered:

I honestly think that I’d be doing you a great disservice if I didn’t tell you about the time Daedalus enabled rampant bestiality, so allow me to clear this gap in your knowledge.

Anyone who doesn’t want to read a poorly retold myth about a man who built a cow suit so realistic that it totally fooled a magic bull into laying down some absolutely quality homo-bovine dick and siring a minotaur should probably press J on their keyboard right now, but honestly if that synopsis doesn’t do it for you then you should probably just quit Greek mythology all together.

So, Minos is this guy who manages to achieve the dual feat of being both King of Crete and an incorrigible asshole. Also, the first achievement is a really tenuous one, because Minos has like a billion brothers and he’s basically Malcolm in the Middle and all his brothers are better looking than him and they have way better abs and it’s really awkward every year at Christmas because they’re all “could you pass the stuffing, Minos? Also you’re totally stuffed because I’m going to be king one day haha suck it, right on” and so Minos starts to get really worried that he’s going to lose the throne to one of his more lustrous-locked brothers and then he’ll be stuck with just the one achievement of being an incorrigible asshole and so he has a little brood and he comes up with a plan.

One day, he goes up to Poseidon, god of the sea and all things wet (or at least that’s what he tells girls at the Olympus nightclubs) and he’s like “hey, Poseidon, could you do me a solid?” and Poseidon is like “no bro but I can do you a liquid” and they have a little manly giggle and then Minos says “no but really, I need a favour” and Poseidon is like “well, you just gave me a golden opportunity to mock the states of matter, I’m 100% up for doing any favour you want” and Minos says “well, you know how I have loads of brothers” and Poseidon is like “you mean the better looking ones?” and Minos pouts and says “looks aren’t everything, but yes, those ones” and Poseidon is like “go on” and Minos says “well, I need them to stop trying to steal the throne because it’s getting really annoying and also I can’t sleep at night any more and it’s driving my hot wife insane, could you maybe show that you totally support me being King of Crete? That way, they’ll definitely stop being dicks at Christmas” and Poseidon just nods and says “I have a great idea for how I can do this”

and Minos is like “wow, are you going to send down an army of merpeople and slaughter all my brothers in a righteous and watery battle?” and Poseidon is like “no” and Minos says “are you going to conjure up a giant tidal wave and make it destroy all my brothers’ homes but leave my palace totally intact?” and Poseidon is like “no” and Minos says “well, are you going to turn all my brothers into mermen?” and Poseidon is like “look, I’m going to send you a bull”

and Minos just blinks and says “a bull” and Poseidon nods and grins and says “yes, a bull” and Minos says “THAT’S bull” and Poseidon points behind him and says “no, THAT’S a bull” and then he brings out this fucking phenomenal bull. Like, this bull puts all other bulls to shame. It’s glowing white and it’s as big as two ordinary bulls and probably twice as virile. It’s basically overcompensation in taurine form. Anyway, this bull is so bitchin’ that immediately, all of Minos’ brothers are like “wow, nope, you can keep that throne, we don’t want Poseidon to sic his sick bull on us” and basically Minos lives happily ever after with his incredible bull.

Until eventually Poseidon shows up at Minos’ palace and says “hey, Minos, you know that really awesome bull I lent you a while back?” and Minos is like “what bull” and Poseidon is like “the magical snow white bull which gleamed in the Cretan sun like limestone and Apollo’s cheekbones” and Minos is like “oh, THAT bull” and Poseidon is like “yes, that bull, now where is it because I’m having a bull party next week and I really want it back” and Minos says “well, here’s the thing, and it’s kind of a funny story really and I’m sure we’ll laugh about it later, maybe we could even laugh about it now, ha, but anyway all jokes aside I’m keeping the bull” and Poseidon is all “like fuck you’re keeping that bull, it’s my best bull, this is bullshit” and Minos is like “that’s one of the hazards of keeping a bull, maybe you’re not cut out for it” and Poseidon says “you haven’t heard the end of this, Minos, you have made a very powerful and watery enemy” and he leaves and Minos goes and, like, pets the bull or something, I don’t know what you do with bulls.

So, Poseidon goes back to his soggy lair and formulates a plan, and he eventually comes up with something straight out of Quentin Tarantino’s brie-induced nightmares. He goes to find Aphrodite, the goddess of love and afternoon delight, and says “hey Aphrodite, first of all you look delectable and secondly I need you to help me make a woman bang a bull” and Aphrodite is like “I honestly hate this job sometimes, but you’re right, I do look delectable, tell me more” and Poseidon is like “I had this really sweet bull and I lent it to Minos so he would think I liked him and now he won’t give it back and so I need you to make his wife fall in love with the bull, it’s a foolproof vengeance plan” and Aphrodite says “you are a god” and Poseidon says “yes” and Aphrodite says “why can’t you just, you know, take back the bull with your divine power?” and Poseidon is like “look, are you going to make this woman fall in love with the bull or not” and Aphrodite is like “fuck yes, that sounds hilarious, consider it done and I want front row seats” and Poseidon is like “you are my favourite niece and occasional lover, I owe you one”

Back to the palace at Crete, where Minos’ wife, Pasiphaë, is lounging about on a contemporary equivalent to a chaise-lounge when she suddenly gets this unmistakable urge to do the do with a bull - but not just any bull, her loins quiver only for the bull in her husband’s barnyard. Instead of doing what most people would do when they realise they have an insatiable urge to make tender love to a bull and immediately committing herself to months of therapy, she thinks “I know what I have to do” and she picks up the contemporary equivalent of a phone and calls Daedalus, inventor and architect extraordinaire.

She’s all “hey, Daedalus, we have patient confidentiality, right?” and Daedalus is like “I’m not your doctor, so no” and she’s like “well, I’m your Queen, so how about you say ‘yes’ instead and I tell you what I want?” and Daedalus is like “my lips are sealed, tell me what you need” and she’s all “well, there’s this really rad guy and I totally want to just lay him down and lick chocolate sauce off his body, but there’s a hitch in my plan” and Daedalus says “yeah, you’re married” and Pasiphaë says “yes, and also he’s a bull” and Daedalus is like “do you mean he’s well hung or” and Pasiphaë is like “look man you gotta help me on this, I need me some sweet bullocking and only you can help me” and Daedalus says “I’ll do what I can, but I hope you have a damn good shower at your palace because I may need to use it for about 6 weeks afterwards” and she’s like “done, now get over here and get me some”

So Daedalus turns up and helps her, and in the blink of an eye, he’s built her this monstrous wooden cow suit. Now, the myth is not exactly clear on the mechanics of this bovine sex toy, but it’s established that Pasiphaë gets into the cow suit and goes to find her bullock beau and they make sweet, sweet cattle love all day and all night. I do not know how she manoeuvres herself inside this wooden furry abomination and frankly I do not want to know, but whatever she does is 100% successful because 9 months later she gives birth to another furry abomination. The good news is that he’s a healthy, bouncing baby boy. The bad news is that he is half baby and half bull and also he has this really annoying habit that most newborns don’t have of eating people, which means that Minos is the definition of Not Impressed with his new stepson, so he does what any sane human would do in this situation, and he calls Daedalus.

Daedalus says “I’m in the shower, what do you want?” and Minos is like “look, my wife has committed a slight indiscretion and I need you to take care of the result” and Daedalus is like “she fucked a bull and she’s had a grotesque hybrid baby, hasn’t she” and Minos narrows his eyes and says “how do you know?” and Daedalus says “just a stab in the dark, mate, I had no hand in this at all, literally none, just let me wash my hands a minute and I’ll be right back” and Minos is like “just build something to trap that devil spawn, because it’s started to eat my servants and I never even wanted a stepson anyway, it’s just one more claim to the throne isn’t it” and Daedalus is like “dude, give me a week and it’ll be done”

and so Daedalus constructs this impenetrable labyrinth that’s so impregnable that Daedalus nearly gets lost on the way out, and they lob the minotaur tot right into the middle of it, and that’s that.

Except then the minotaur starts demanding the sacrifice of seven young men every year, who are tossed into the labyrinth and forced to play a fatal game of cat and mouse with a grotesque superpowered man-bull creature that will ultimately devour them, flesh from bone, at the heart of a labyrinth that only he can navigate, but that’s a story for another myth. Or The Maze, starring Dylan O’Brien, out in a multiplex near you.

omfg I am dying

the-real-seebs

This is probably truer to the original material than most translations.

#teashoesandhair #The Minotaur #The Cretan Bull #Minos #Pasiphae #Daedalus #Mythology #Greek Myth #Not Homestuck #appreciative reblogs