Page 23.

According to the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, there were only three hearts that Aphrodite could never bend or ensnare: Hestia, Athena and Artemis. I thought it would be more logical if all asexual people were immune to her power. That would mean, though, that Artemis is not one of those who can escape Aphrodite in my telling, since my Artemis has sex with women (unless Aphrodite for some reason is the goddess of sexual love between men and women only, but that wouldn’t make sense in my world). Of these three goddesses Hestia is the only one who is both asexual and aromantic in my version. Athena is pretty much asexual, but not aromantic.

                        … like night & day.

                                                                    your mercies are new every morning ;;
                                                                              your LOVE is neverending.

Okay but imagine a punk Aphrodite, all tight, black leather jeans, white jack Daniels shirt and leather jacket with pastel pink hair flowing down her back.


Activist Artemis running a shelter for abused women, contacting her sister Athena for support with legal battles.

Hera running a boarding school for young girls, teaching them everything from economics to ancient literature.

Demeter running a success agriculture company with a daughter who ran away to be with a tattooed, young Hades

Athena picks fights on the playground from age seven
Soon all the boys worship her
At thirteen she learns to fire a gun
And calls her sister’s longbow “ineffective”
She destroys the competition in debates and wrestling matches alike,
Learns to march but finds she’d much rather command,
Climbs to the top of the military tree,
Stepping on anyone who gets in her way

Artemis is all scraped knees and bruised shins
A fierce little girl who does what she wants
A teenager with grass stains on her dresses and rage in her heart
She dislikes the company of men
At age fifteen she kisses a girl and decides she likes it almost as much as shooting
At eighteen she knows that one girl will never be enough

Aphrodite has always been pretty and she knows it
She grew up fast but chocolate and flowers and favours were her rewards
She keeps a notebook by her bed
Hot pink like the marks she leaves on boys necks
Filled with phone numbers, her own personal directory
They’d do anything for her and that’s just how she likes it

—  Modern Goddesses
2

myth aesthetics: Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, pleasure, and procreation

she’s a modern lover, it’s an exploration, she’s made of o u t e r s p a c e. and her lips are like the galaxy’s edge, her kiss the color of a constellation falling into p l a c e.

So a Greek mythology headcanon where Aphrodite can appear either male or female, and she looks like a really fucking sexy guy to gay dudes because that’s who they find attractive
And some Greek bro is out with his buddies when she shows up and he’s all “Wow look at how ripped this dude is no homo” and his buddies are all “What the fuck man that’s a beautiful lady” and that’s how he finds out he’s hella gay

 Modern Mythology: Aphrodite

“I like people too much or not at all. I’ve got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.”

A modern Aphrodite who knows the language of the sea, her blood moves with the tides, and the bat of her eye will keep mortals and gods in her clutches like waves, all return to her despite the hurricanes under her skin. One glance at the curve of her lips, and you have already drowned, and you will still thank her for the ruin she has set upon you. She is known throughout this world, by the sea and the wind, by her kaleidoscope eyes and dimpled chin, and her touch has more power than intoxication, for her beauty reaches into her bones. Her whispers reveal all types of love, if it can only be felt in certain ways, and all are as divine as the blood in her veins, and that there is no shame love and that true beauty isn’t defined by the color of their lips. Her footprints mark abortion clinics and adoption agencies, her gentle touch felt in doctor’s offices and courts, her arm wraps around those in alleyways and sidewalks, reminding others that they should not be afraid to love again, and to refuse bruises and tears that claim to be in its name, and if one doesn’t know love, she will whisper what they deserve, let it be a soft grin or laughter that shakes each of their bones, or someone to simply spread their fingers through the gaps in their own. 

Nyx likes to compare Aphrodite to the stars. Ever since she first saw her at The Styx, light jacket pulled tight to protect herself from the cold, silver around her eyes, hand clasped in Persephone’s as she is guided through the crowd, Nyx has been in awe of her. It is months later, and the stars are especially bright from the rooftop of Nyx’s apartment, when three, wondrous words spill from Aphrodite’s lips. Nyx responds by tracing constellations over her skin and pointing to the galaxies as she whispers in her ear. Aphrodite laughs, a twinkling laughter, until she realizes the honesty in Nyx’s words. She turns onto her side, eyes dark and glistening with tears. “If I am the stars,” she says, “then you are the night.” 

AESTHETIC PUNK MYTHS 2/3 Pairings [insp.]