goddess of hearth

🌿 Offerings to the Earth 🌿

When forging or harvesting flowers, plants, herbs and other living things from nature to use in your craft, it is wise to ASK PERMISSION FIRST, listen and use your intuition. The plants may ask for you to leave an offering - sometimes they will tell you exactly what they want and at times they’ll ask for a surprise, but leaving an offering for the earth in appreciation and gratitude is very vital, for they are magickal alchemist.

Here are some ideas of offerings to give to the earth: 

  • A sacred song 
  • A graceful dance
  • A beautiful prayer 
  • A poem 
  • A story
  • A handwritten love note 
  • A small crystal or gem 
  • Tobacco // Sage 
  • Your hair 
  • Biodegradable Tiny sealed jar with sacred menstrual blood 
  • Biodegradable Tiny sealed jar spell 
  • Moon water 
  • Rose water 
  • Holy water 
  • Herbs, seeds + other Plants 
  • Your most sacred item 

 \Please reblog with any other resources you might think of!

Why do people obsess over Greek GODS

Artemis: a queen, one who shuns the presence of men. Ruler of the night sky and the hunt, she doesn’t give a flying fuck about your gender roles.
Women can be single. Women can be hunters.

Athena: a scheming, cunning, genius woman, Athena is the mastermind behind every battle. Goddess of both wisdom AND war.
Women can be smart. Women can be warriors.

Aphrodite: a gorgeous woman, beautiful beyond belief, she was married off to a man she did not love. She refused her husband, and is with the chaotic man she truly loves. She loves romance novels and tragic love stories without your permission or stereotypes.
Women can be independent. Women can be beautiful. Women don’t have to love you because you say so.

Persephone: she is Queen of hell and goddess of springtime, drawing the line between death and rebirth. She loves her husband and mother, but refuses to let anyone tell her who to be or where to go.
Women can be sweet. Women can be brutal. Women can be complicated.

Hera: a practical woman, she is the goddess of marriage, her husband is always off fucking mortals. And she always makes sure he pays for it. This doesn’t stop her from being a fair queen, even more of a ruler than her husband.
Women can be powerful. Women make their own choices.

Demeter: a farm girl at heart, she rules the harvest, her mere emotions causing the seasons. Her daughter eloped with the god of death, and she misses her every day. She loves her loyal farmers and the crops they tend.
Women can be nurturing. Women can be depressed.

Hestia: a goddess of small renown, Hesta gave up her spot on the council to Dionsynius to keep order. She is the goddess of the hearth and home, fire and family. She represents the controlled chaos of a fire in the fireplace or a family in their home.
Women can be sacrificing. Women don’t need to be super to be important. Women can be chaotic.

Enough with this patriarchal Greek society. We all know who really ruled Olympus.

Basics of Kitchen and Cottage Witchcraft

Kitchen witches believe that the kitchen is a sacred place where all of the magick happens. They focus on the use of edible ingredients and kitchen tools.  A cottage witch is a witch that brings magick into the house and are protectors of the hearth and home. They bring cheer and warmth to every room they enter. Their focuses are on the family, home, and daily needs. Both the cottage and Kitchen witch believe that by honoring the home it honors the Gods and Goddesses. They bring magick into everyday life and daily chores.

Ways a Kitchen and Cottage witch can bring magick into a home:

  • Create a kitchen altar
  • Stock your shelves with herbs and spices
  • Bring maximum feng-shui to your home
  • Keep the home physically and spiritually clean
  • Paint the house walls in colours that bring happiness, warmth, and coziness
  • When making a sandwich put mustard or mayo sigils on it
  • When making meals add herbs that correspond to your magickal needs
  • Decorate the home according to the sabbats
  • Brew some special teas
  • Make your own candles, salves, and tinctures.
  • Make offerings to Gods and Goddesses of hearth and home.  
  • Ask your deities to keep your house safe and healthy.
  • Create your own recipes and add your own touch of magick to them
  • Put intent into everything you cook and clean
  • Make an incantation or short song to sing while you stir.
  • Inscribe your wooden spoons with sigils  
  • Carve your wooden shelves with sigils - carve them at the bottom of the cupboard to remain discreet
  • Craft oils, incense, soaps, potions, and salves.
  • Make herbal remedies
  • Chant while cleaning or preparing a meal
  • Use numerology in their practices by the number of times they stir or the number of times they knead dough.
  • During the mead moon, brew mead with magickal intent.
  • Decorate the home with your own art or art done by your children, poems, knits, woodcraft’s, paintings, quilts, diy’s, or tapestries.
  • Enchant your crafts.
  • Use weather magick, candle magick, ribbon charms, and anything else used to add magick to your home.
  • Honour the ancestors.
  • Bless the home.
  • Start a garden and will it with organic and in season fruits and vegetables.
  • Charge herbal oils by moonlight or candlelight to heal, bless the home or to clean and protect the woodwork she polishes with it.
  • Scatter charm bags, witches ladders, chimes, and bells around the home.
  • Grow an indoor jungle
  • Learn herbal remedies to treat MINOR injuries
  • If you work with meat make sure to thank and honour the animal it came from.
  • Sing or play music to raise good vibrations
  • Bake and cut cookies in shapes to match your intentions
  • Provide someone in need with a free meal
  • Volunteer at a local soup kitchen to bring magick into it

What their altar may display:

  • Candles
  • Tools used for sacred use
  • Four elements
  • Statues of the honoured deities
  • A doll weaved of corn
  • A kitchen witch’s altar is often displayed in the corner of the kitchen and is not permanent
  • Food made by the witch left as an offering

Some beliefs followed:

  • Magick is not used to inflict pain on others or block anyone’s free will
  • Believe in living simple lives
  • Believe in using organic items, products that aren’t animal tested, recycling, and composting.
  • Creativity is a form of devotion
  • Keep peace in the household
  • May the home always contain good food, good talk, and good company
  • Welcome guests into the home with open arms

Cottage and Kitchen witch superstitions/wives tales:

  • Stir clockwise to bring good luck
  • Never stir with a knife as it is considered bad luck
  • Place a piece of amethyst near the stove top to make the food cooked there tastes better
  • If an apple bursts in the oven while baking it means good luck is on its way for the cook
  • Eggs that are cracked while they boil is a sign that visitors are on their way
  • Dropping silverware means that company is coming
  • Spilling water on the table cloth means that rain is on its way
  • Seeing a spider in the house is good luck, killing it is bad luck
  • Wild animal tracks in the snow encircling your house is a sign of good luck and protection
  • When your cupboard doors are left opens it means that people are gossiping about you
  • If a broom drops across the doorway it means that you will soon head off on a journey
  • If you spill salt throw it over your left shoulder to undo any bad luck
  • To keep evil spirits away chop an onion in half and place it on the window sill

Chosen tools:

  • Wooden spoons
  • Knife
  • Bowls
  • Cooking pot or cauldron
  • A ritual knife used to only cut spiritual ties
  • A Fire place
  • Broom
  • Mortar and pestle
  • Kettle
  • Jars and bottles
  • Sewing kit
  • Cook books

Spells are cast to bring:

  • Healing
  • Prosperity
  • Protection
  • Abundance
  • Happiness
  • Fertility
  • Harmony
  • Peace

Deities worked with:

  • Hestia
  • Frigga
  • Brighid
  • Demeter

May your house stay warm and full of magick!

==Moonlight Academy==

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

to my aro/ace friends and smols: if you’re ever feeling undervalued, remember Hestia

You know, Hestia. The greek Goddess of the hearth and home. simultaneously the oldest and youngest of the Olympian Gods. Hestia turned down marriage propsals from both Poseidon and Apollo, two of the arguably most desirable gods in the hellenic pantheon. Instead, she asked her brother Zeus, king of the heavens, for permission to never marry and never have to take a lover or anything. Which he granted. Without question. Zeus, lord of sleeping around, did not question his ace sister when she said that’s who she was. That is some divine allyship, yo.

She went on to be the Goddess of the Hearth. For ancient greeks, the hearth was the center of the home and the center of worship for the family. In ritual practice, Hestia always recieved the first (best) and last part of any sacrifice. Put that in context of patriarchal societies where the “father” of the group “always” recieved the best part of a meal. But not Hestia. No, your friendly hometown goddess was venerated before the king of the heavens, without question or anything. Hestia was the center of the family, the center and grounding point of the home, and was treated as such. 

The lesson for aces here is that you are worthy of being yourself without question. You are a valuable member of your community, a most valuable member of your family, and if you are not treated like it, maybe take after Hestia, and burn those motherfuckers to the ground.

6

“Take my believing heart!”

Little Witch Persona AU anyone? Phantom witches?? Witch thieves???

**Please DO NOT edit, use, or repost any of these! Thank you!

Nine New Phantom Witches

character profiles, concepts and dialogues under the cut!

Keep reading

Ideal Offerings for Gods and Goddesses

Hearth and Home Gods:

  • Food: Bread and grains, cooking oil, salt
  • Drink: Milk, wine, cider
  • Herbs: Rosemary, thyme

Gods of Love and Passion:

  • Food: Eggs, honey, apples
  • Drink: Wine, fruit juice
  • Herbs: Lavender, sandalwood

Garden/Nature Deities:

  • Food: Bread, cornmeal, fruit
  • Drink: Milk, water
  • Herbs: Bay

Gods of Prosperity and Abundance:

  • Food: Grains, dairy products like cheese or eggs
  • Drink: Milk, beer
  • Herbs: Mint, pennyroyal, catnip

Ancestor Spirits:

  • Food: Any meal from your family’s table
  • Drink: Drinks from the family table
  • Herbs: Sage, sweetgrass

Childbirth or Fertility Goddess:

  • Food: Eggs, baked sweets like cookies
  • Drink: Milk (including breast milk)
  • Herbs: Rose, sandalwood, apple blossoms
2

In Greek mythology, Hestia is the virgin goddess of the hearth and home. The first born of Rhea and Cronus, she was the first swallowed by Cronus when he grew fearful that one of his children would dethrone him. After Zeus forced his father to disgorge his children, Hestia was the last to be yielded up, making her both the eldest and the youngest child.

As the goddess of the hearth she personified the fire burning in the hearth of every home in Greece. Hestia receiving the first offering at every sacrifice in the household with families pouring sweet wine in her name and dedicating the richest portion of food to her. Though Hestia did not have a public cult, she was worshipped at any temple, regardless of the god the temple was dedicated to. 

master-sass-blast  asked:

Right. So. Might be mildly addicted to your 'Gods and Monsters' series. Definitely need an intervention, but I'll prolly ignore that anyway, so... anyway, can you do something with Zeus and Hera? I've always thought it was massively whack that the goddess of fidelity was with --according to Greek mythos--one of the biggest adulterers on Olympus. Definitely smelling a bit of an abusive relationship there, if you catch my drift... okay byeeeee

Hera, the young goddess of marriage and family, is only unfaithful to her husband once.

She seduces Zeus first, right as the war ends and they’re all pain and ash and thrumming with the excitement of victory. She smiles just so and touches his bloody chest, her hand pale against the dark copper of his skin and, and when he looks at her his eyes spark with the lightning he so easily commands. She is named his wife that very night, her body littered with bruises from his rough, eager hands, and she tells herself the bile at the back of her throat tastes like victory.

She is queen of the gods. This is what she wants.

They’ve all claimed their domains and gone their separate ways, Demeter to the earth, Hades to the underworld, and Hestia to Olympus where they plan to build their palace. But Poseidon still lingers. “Don’t you have an ocean to conquer?” she asks.

He looks at her, then behind her to where Zeus is busy sketching plans for Olympus. “You don’t have to do this,” he says softly, “you – you can come with me if you want. Or I’m sure Hades would take you.”

Hera has no time for Poseidon and his soft heart. “I will only belong to the best,” she says, tossing her head so her crown of curls fall over her shoulder. “You should go. You have work to do.”

“There are more important things than power,” he says uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.

“No,” she says, “there aren’t.”

~

Hera would not mind Zeus’s women so much if they were not constantly giving him children, something she has been unable to do.

She is an obedient wife. She does not turn her powers against him, and she’s tolerant of his mortals at first, but the longer she is empty of child the less patience she has. How can she be the goddess of family without one of her own?

Her spite gets in her way, and she hurls every kind of obstacle and curse she can at the woman her husband lies with. At first he is angry with her, and bruises litter her throat and wrists. Then, as her wrath and powers grow, he is afraid of her. He watches her warily, sneaking to the mortal realm when before he wouldn’t even try to hide it. He submits when she pins him to the bed and rides him hard, desperate for a child of his, desperate to fulfill the perfect image of wife and mother she’s built for herself.

No matter her magic, no matter how many times they lie together, Hera does not get with child.

She goes to Hestia, and her sister presses a hand to her stomach and purses her lips and says, “Must it be his child?”

Hera stares. She’s the goddess of marriage and family. She is not capable of infidelity. “I – I can’t.”

“Just once,” Hestia says, “the problem is not with you, nor with him, clearly. Only the combination of you both. Lie with any other man, and you will have your child.”

So Hera, just once, puts on a disguise and goes to the mortal realm. She finds a man with skin darker than Zeus’s, a rich warm brown that matches his soft eyes. She lies with him, and it hurts. He is kind and patient and kisses the edge of her jaw, her shoulders, her navel. But to be unfaithful grates against her very nature as a goddess, and every moment is agony. He finishes, his mouth whispering kind things against her own, and she leaves as soon as she can.

It works. She becomes round with child, and is happier than she’s been in a long time. She does not mind Zeus’s mortals, and he even becomes kinder while the baby grows inside of her. His hands become softer, and he spends less time away from Olympus.

The baby is born, and Zeus is furious.

The child is too dark to be his, and he tears it from Hera’s hands while she lies exhausted from the birth. “What do you care?” she cries, struggling to stand, “You have dozens of children. What does it matter if I have one?”

He holds the baby in one hand and grabs her jaw with the other, pulling her to her knees. “You are my wife,” he hisses, “the goddess of marriage and family. You will have my child, or no child at all.”

He throws the baby from Mount Olympus. Hera screams, pushing herself away from him and attempting to jump after it. Zeus catches her around the waist, and with a crackle of power and roar of rage, he sends a lightning bolt after the baby.

The child may have survived the fall, but not the lightning.

“NO!” Hera screeches, clawing at his arm as she struggles to escape his grasp. Normally she’s not this helpless against him, but delivering her baby has left her weaker than she’s ever been before.

He presses the flat of his hand against her swollen womb, adding pressure until she cries out in pain and tries to squirm away from him. “My child,” he repeats, voice low and terrible, “or no child at all.”

He lets her go, and she collapses, grasping out a hand over the edge of Olympus. But the blood between her thighs is still wet, and she can’t find the energy to stand. She wonders if she’ll have to crawl down the mountain to retrieve her baby’s corpse.

“Sister!” Soft hands grab her shoulder and gently roll her onto her back. Hestia’s face fills her vision, and Hera has never seen the older goddess of hearth and fire look so cold. “I’ll kill him,” she says, hands hovering over Hera like she’s not sure where to begin. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think this would happen, I didn’t think he would – I didn’t think.”

Hera curls on her side until she can place her head in her sister’s lap. She’s not sobbing anymore, she’s never been one to fall into hysterics, but she can’t stop crying, a steady stream of tears dripping silently down her face. Hestia runs trembling hands through her hair. “Don’t,” she whispers, “I did this, this is my fault. I – I should have known better.”

Hestia’s hand cup her face, leaning over so she can look her in the eye. “This is not your fault.”

Her sister stands and picks her up in her arms. Hera tries to tell her to put her down, that Zeus will be angry if she leaves, that she did this to herself. But she falls unconscious before she can get any of it out.

~

Hera awakens someplace soft and warm. She opens her eyes, and she’s inside Hades’s palace. Her confusion lasts only until her memories come rushing back, and then she has to bite her lip until it bleeds to stop herself from crying out.

“Hestia brought you here. She’s returned to Olympus to cover for you both. Do not worry – Zeus doesn’t know where you are.” She turns her head, and sees the goddess of magic at her side. Hecate smiles, “I have mended you, do not worry. All is well.”

All is not well. That statement is so far from true, and her instant urge is to crush Hecate to dust for the audacity. Before she can make up her mind one way or the other, there’s a soft knock on the door. It opens to reveal her elder brother. “I have something that belongs to you,” he says, and Here focuses on the bundle in the crook of his elbow.

Her baby’s corpse. She’s relieved someone thought to get it. Her heart feels like lead, and all the control she’d had over her emotions is gone instantly. She hopes they’ll leave her alone to hold the body of her child and weep.

Hades gingerly sits on the edge of the bed, and Hecate rises to help Hera prop herself up so she’s at least sitting. “He’s a strong little thing,” Hades says, and Hera doesn’t understand.

Then a warm, wriggling baby is placed in her arms. He’s got great big eyes and his mouth splits into a toothless grin when he sees her. “He’s alive,” she says numbly.

“Not without sacrifice,” Hecate says softly, and reaches over to undo the blanket he’s swaddled in.

Her son has no legs below his knees.

“Zeus’s lightning bolt didn’t kill him, but we cannot return what was lost,” Hades says, pained. “When he’s older, maybe we can do something, give him something in place of legs. But for now, there’s nothing I can do.”

The king of the underworld is the most powerful god after her husband. Hera knows that, even if Zeus doesn’t. If Hades can’t do anything about her son’s legs, then no can. But he’s alive, Zeus didn’t manage to kill him, and Hera finds herself so grateful that she’s holding a smiling, living child that she can’t be anything but relieved. Her son is alive, and happy. He doesn’t need legs.

“I can’t bring him back to Olympus,” she looks up at them, “Can you find someone to raise him? Someone you trust?”

She doesn’t trust anyone, so it can’t be her choosing.

“You’re going back to him?” Hecate demands, “Hestia said – but I thought for sure – you don’t have to! Don’t go back to him!”

“I must,” she holds her son to her chest, and he reaches out with chubby hands to tug at her hair. “I am the goddess of marriage, and he is my husband.”

Hecate stares, aghast. “Don’t – don’t, Hera. Please. Stay here. Hades will protect you.”

She looks up at her brother, and he raises an eyebrow. He would protect her, he would put himself in between her and Zeus’s wrath if she asked him to. But she won’t, and she thinks he knows it. She says, “I am Hera of the Heights, of Argos, of the Mound. I am the cow eyed, white armed goddess of marriage and of family. I am Hera, queen of the gods.” She looks down at her son, and her heart clenches, because for now a title that cannot be afforded to her is that of mother. “I will not abandon my dominion, nor my husband. I will return to Mount Olympus.”

“But you don’t love him,” Hecate says helplessly.

Hera stares, baffled that anyone could think her marriage had anything to do with love. “Of course not. But this isn’t about love. It’s about power.”

The goddess of magic swallows, then says, “I will raise him.”

Even Hades is surprised by that. “Hecate?”

“I will raise him,” she repeats, “He will stay with me, safe in the underworld where Zeus cannot find him, until he’s old enough and strong enough to protect himself.”

“Thank you,” Hera says, and lowers her head enough to kiss the top of her son’s head. “Tell him that I’m the one that threw him from Olympus.” When she looks up, Hades is resigned while Hecate looks on in horror. “Tell him, tell everyone. I gave birth to a hideous son, and I threw him from Olympus. His legs were crushed in the fall. I did this. Zeus tried to stop me, but could not.”

“Why?” Hecate asks.

Hera smiles down at her son, her heart full with a helpless sort of love. “So that when he ventures from the safety of the underworld, Zeus will have no reason to hurt him. So that when he comes to Olympus, Zeus will be unable to hurt him without explaining he was the one that tried to kill him in the first place.” She runs the back of her finger down his cheek, and he grabs it, his little fist holding onto her. “Blame me, and he will be safe.”

Hecate looks like she wants to argue. Hades puts a hand on her shoulder and asks Hera, “What’s his name?”

Her son smiles, and tugs at her hand, the beginnings of a giggle gurgling in his throat.

“His name is Hephaestus.”

~

When she returns, she no longer has any patience for Zeus’s mortals. When before she had only inconvenienced them, now she’s not playing any games. Those that do not die end up wishing they had, and she’s especially vindictive to any mortal carrying her husband’s child.

She sits on her throne, waiting, a smirk curled around the corner of her lips.

Zeus barges in and charges towards her. He’s so angry smoke is rising off his skin. “You,” he hisses, “this is your doing.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asks, unflinching when he slams his hands on either side of her head, crushing the back of her throne with the force of it.

“She and the children are dead,” he snarls, “my children are dead! I know this is your doing, it reeks of your handiwork.”

Hera slides forward to the edge of her throne, their faces nearly touching, and spreads her legs. He flexes his hands, because even at his most furious he still wants her. She is his wife and his queen. She banishes her clothing so she’s spread out before him, hair piled high and jewelry glinting around her neck. “What are you going to do about it?”

He kisses her hard enough to bruise, and Hera crosses her legs around his back, urging him closer. “Why are you doing this?” he hisses, mouthing at her neck, because he hates her even as he loves her, hates her because he loves her, and loves her because he hates her.

She waits until he’s inside her to lick the shell of his ear and whisper, “My child, or no child at all, husband.”

When he breaks her skin with his teeth, she only laughs.

They do this to each other. Maybe they are meant to be together.


gods and monsters series part xv

read more from the gods and monsters series here

5

Hestia, the virgin goddess of the hearth and the home. She was the first born child of Kronos, Titan of time, and Rhea,  mother of the gods. Solemn oaths were sworn by the goddess of the hearth, and the hearth itself was the sacred asylum where suppliants implored the protection of the inhabitants of the house.

Pre-modern era, the word virgin meant “an unmarried young woman” not “untainted by carnal pleasure plucked and poisoned by the apple and the snake”. An eternally “Virgin goddess” just means a goddess who didn’t revolve her life around men and consciously objected to marrying men. There’s even reason to interpret the Virgin Mary as not her never having sex, but, rather, her not yet being married to Joseph, since there are problems with translation from the Hebrew.

Anyways, knowing the actual meaning of virgin as it would have meant to the Greeks, you can interpret Artemis either as bisexual or as a lesbian. I choose to interpret her as a lesbian and take her “feelings” for Orion as her misinterpreting the feeling of being fully understood by another person as romantic love, or misinterpreting strong platonic feelings as romantic love. Her feelings for Britomartis, however, have been described as her being madly in love, as well as continually pursuing her.

If you’re really, really desperate for a potentially aroace Greek goddess, try Hestia, goddess of the hearth. She refused to marry two gods, and is never shown to have more than platonic feelings for anyone, man or woman, as well as begging Zeus to allow her to never marry or enter a relationship.

anonymous asked:

i know you're probably getting a lot of requests, but do you think you would be able to write about the weirdest greek myth ever, the birth of the Minotaur?

There are times when Hermes’s role as the messenger god weighs on him. Declaration of war have left his lips, the words he’s carried have ended whole countries and damned villages to a slow painful death. The secrets he carries tears at him, the horrors he’s had to face only so he could later tell of them, the warnings he repeats that are ignored and all he’s witnessed is for nothing, since it happens all over again in front of him.

There are times the news he brings that tears at him, eats at his soul like necrosis – the death of Kore, Poseidon destroying another seaside village, every whisper of Pandora, informing Ares of yet another war.

This –

– isn’t one of those times.

~

Aphrodite’s lovely face is slack with surprise. At her side Hephaestus rubs his chin and says, “That seems physically improbable.”

“How did she manage to not die?” Aphrodite demands, then says, “Wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Hermes grins, and doesn’t bother to hide the complete delight he’s taking in this, “But my lady,  it is my sacred duty to tell you these things. When Queen Pasiphae ensnared Daedalus’s help to be mounted by the bull–”

She gives him a cross look and is gone in a powerful gust of wind, and he has to grab onto the volcano wall to keep from falling over.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Hephaestus says, off hand. It’s clear he’s still thinking of the mechanics of a human-bull hybrid.

“I’ve been accused of being many things,” Hermes says cheerfully, “nice is not among them.”

~

Artemis lounges in her tent with one of her huntress’s face between her thighs, inexperienced but eager, and she so does love taking on new women.

“Sister!” Apollo shouts, appearing at her side and glaring down at her. “Have you lost your mind?”

Her huntress startles and freezes, unsure whether to leave or continue. Artemis rolls her hips up, and the girl ignores the appearance of the sun god and continues with her task.

“Not that I know of,” she says, tilting her head up so she can look at her brother without altering her position, “Why do you ask?”

“Poseidon cursed a mortal queen to fall in love with a bull, and she gave birth to a bull headed monster today,” he crosses his arms and glares.

She swallows the laugh that bubbles up, but she must not be entirely successful because he starts tapping his foot. “Well, isn’t that interesting. I’m not sure what it has to do with me.”

“Sister dear, Artemis, patron goddess of childbirth,” he says with syrup thick sweetness, “why on earth did you bless that child? There’s no way it could have been born without your help. It had to have been you.”

Her huntress pauses again, and Artemis will answer her questions later. She squeezes her thighs about her ears, and the girl resumes. “Oh come on, don’t give me that look. This is hysterical. People are going to be talking about this for years.”

He considers this for a long moment, then uncrosses his arms, “Okay, you have a point.”

“I know. Now if you don’t mind, I’m a little busy,” she gestures to the huntress between her legs.

Apollo snorts, “Get a few more girls in here, and maybe I’ll consider that busy.”

He slips away, but Artemis’s eyes narrow. That sounds like a challenge.

The girl replaces her mouth with a hand and asks, “Should I gather the other huntresses, lady goddess?”

“I like you,” Artemis says, and the girl laughs, cheeks flushed and lips shiny.

~

Hermes appears in the middle of the garden of Hades’s palace, and blinks twice.

The queen of the underworld is half naked and on top of Amphitrite, and several things fall in place at once. “Is this why you don’t get upset with Hades for his affair with Hecate?”

“There is no affair with Hecate, you’re just an indiscriminate gossip,” Persephone retorts. “And if they were having an affair, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with Amphitrite.”

“Oh,” he says. He feels rather derailed from his original point. “I came here to–”

“If this is about the minotaur, we already heard about it,” she says, “You can go now.”

They’ve already heard about it! “From who?!” This is the best news in centuries, and this person is ruining it.

“Aphrodite,” Amphitrite says, “She’s cross with you.”

Oh, this is war.

~

Ares feels a shiver go down his spine, and looks across the battle field. People are dying around him, but people are always dying around him. He doesn’t see anything particularly horrendous, so he doesn’t know who could have invoked him so powerfully that he felt it.

A young woman who had shared the last piece of sweet bread with him last night gets a spear shoved straight through her chest, and Ares decides he has more important things to worry about.

~

Athena is halfway through a tapestry that is to hang in Hestia’s rooms when Aphrodite appears next to her and says cheerfully, “Guess what Poseidon did?”

Normally Athena would fling anyone who dare to disturb her to the depths of Tartarus, but she’s always willing to talk of Poseidon’s misdeeds. “I’m listening.”

Hermes appears on her other side, glaring. “You trollop.”

“He made a queen fall in love with a bull, and she just had the kid. It’s got a bull head.” Her sister’s smile is positively vicious.

“I’ll make you suffer,” Hermes hisses, and slips away. Aphrodite follows, the sounds of her laughter echoing in the room.

Athena blinks, looking back to her loom, but is unable to concentrate.

Even she hadn’t seen that one coming.

~

Hera doesn’t get involved, she does not have opinions, as a rule if it doesn’t concern her then it doesn’t concern her.

She waits for her husband to leave, and tries not to worry about his mutterings about bulls, the queen-mother Europa, and how Pasiphae had the right idea of it. She steps into the throne room, and the fire burns cheerful and bright in the center of it.

She sits beside it, and no sooner has she done so than Hestia appears at her side. “You’ve heard then?”

“Hermes told me,” she rubs at her temples.

“Aphrodite got to me first,” Hestia says, and the goddess of the hearth seems entirely too cheerful, “I can say, of all the misdeeds Poseidon has wrought, this one is certainly … unique.”

She slumps and buries her face in her hands, “This whole family is mad, and we’re doomed to only become worse.”

Hestia laughs and puts an arm around her shoulder, “Come now, I think Hades is quite reasonable.”

Hera shifts enough only so that she can glare, “Hades chose to rule the dead and married Kore. He’s the maddest of us all.”

Hestia can’t refute that, so she starts finger combing Hera’s long, curly hair. Hera slumps back into her hands, and Hestia’s smile is soft as they sit there in silence, the only noise that of the crackling fire.

~

When Hephaestus returns to the volcano, it’s to his wife sitting in his throne with her arms crossed. “What did you do?” she asks.

“I just gave him a little suggestion, is all,” he says, and scoops Aphrodite into his arms so that he may reclaim his throne. She snuggles into his side, and if she’s trying to convince him that she’s mad at him, she’s doing a terrible job of it. “Daedalus has always been a very devout follower; he deserves a few good ideas.”

“He’s had enough ideas,” she says, because without his help the queen wouldn’t have found a way to consummate her love of the bull, “I don’t think he needs anymore.”

“Maybe,” Hephaestus murmurs, dragging his nose up her temple, “but imagine this – a labyrinth, bigger than any other, than this whole volcano.”

“That’s nice, dear,” Aphrodite says, and then proves to be distracting enough that Hephaestus puts his ideas aside.

At least for a little while.


gods and monsters series, part xii

read more from the gods and monsters series here

List of Wiccan Goddesses and Pagan Goddess Names:

Akhilandeshvari - Hindu Goddess Never-Not-Broken

Amaterasu - Japanese sun Goddess

Annapurna - Hindu Goddess of Food and Nourishment

Aphrodite /Venus - Greek Goddess of love and beauty

Artemis/Diana - Greek/Roman Goddess of the hunt, virginity, and childbirth, twin sister of Apollo, and an Olympian, often associated with the moon

Astarte - Greek Goddess of fertility, sexuality, and war

Athena - Greek Goddess of wisdom, defensive and strategic wars

Bast - Egyptian solar and war Goddess (in the form of a cat)

Baubo - Greek Goddess of mirth, jests, and bawdy humour

Brighid - Celtic Goddess of poetry, healing, and crafts (especially smith-work), holy wells and eternal flames

Cerridwen - Celtic Goddess of transformation, of the cauldron of inspiration, of prophecy

Cybele - Greek Earth Mother

Danu - Irish Mother Goddess

Demeter - Greek Goddess of the harvest and of grain, mother of Persephone

Durga - Hindu Great Goddess, Divine Mother

Eos - Greek Goddess of the dawn

Ereshkigal - Mesopotamian Goddess of Darkness, Death, and Gloom

Flora - Roman Goddess of flowers

Fortuna - Roman Goddess of fortune

Freya or Freyja - Norse Goddess of fertility, sexual liberty, abundance, and war

Frigg - Norse Goddess of marriage, household management, and love, Queen of Heaven, and wife of Odin

Gaia/Earth Mother - The Greek Goddess Gaia is the primordial Goddess of earth, mother and grandmother of the first generation of Titans

Hathor - Egyptian Goddess of the Milky Way, Mother Goddess, Goddess of childbirth and death.

Hecate - Greek Goddess of witchcraft and magick, crossroads, and the harvest moon

Hestia - Greek Goddess of the hearth and domestic life

Hel - Norse Goddess daughter of Loki and the giantess Angrboda, Queen of the Dead

Hera - Roman Goddess of the Hearth, of women, and of marriage

Inanna - Sumerian Goddess of sexual love, fertility, and warfare

Isis - Egyptian Mother Goddess, matron of nature and magick, Goddess of creativity and the underdog

Ishtar - Mesopotamian Goddess of sexual love, fertility, and war

Juno - Roman Queen of the Gods and Goddess of matrimony

Kali - Hindu Goddess of Time and Death, slayer of demons, protectress (As Kali Ma: Divine Mother Goddess)

Kore - Greek Maiden Goddess of bountiful Earth (See also Persephone)

Kuan Yin , Kwan Yin Ma , Quan Yin - Chinese Goddess of Mercy and Compassion

Lakshmi - Hindu Goddess of Wealth and Fertility (Goddess as Mother/Sustainer)

Lalita - Hindu Goddess of Beauty

Luna - Roman Goddess of the Moon

Ma'at - Egyptian Goddess, personified concept of truth, balance, justice, and order

Mary - Mother Goddess, Queen of Heaven, Goddess of Femininity

Maya - Hindu Goddess of Illusion and Mystery

Minerva - Roman Goddess of wisdom and war

Morrigan - Celtic war Goddess

Nut - Egyptian Goddess of heaven and the sky and all celestial bodies

Parvati - Hindu Divine Mother, the embodiment of the total energy in the universe, Goddess of Power and Might

Pele - Hawai'ian volcano Goddess, Destroyer and Creatrix

Persephone - Greek Goddess daughter of Demeter, Queen of the Underworld, also a grain-Goddess, Maiden Goddess

Radha - Hindu Divine Mother

Rhiannon - Celtic Goddess of the moon

Rosmurta - Celtic/Roman Goddess of abundance. She is also the Goddess of Business Success.

Saraswati - Hindu Goddess of Knowledge, the Arts, Mathematics, Education, and cosmic Wisdom (Creatrix)

Sedna - Inuit Goddess of the Sea and Queen of the Underworld

Selene - Greek Goddess of Moon

Shakti - Hindu primordial cosmic energy, Great Divine Mother

Shekina - Hebrew Goddess of compassion in its purest form (feminine aspect of God)

Sita - Hindu Goddess representing perfect womanhood

Sol - Norse Sun Goddess

Sophia - Greek Goddess of wisdom

Spider Woman - Teotihuacan Great Goddess (Creatrix)

Tara - Hindu, Mother Goddess, the absolute, unquenchable hunger that propels all life.

Tara, Green - Buddhist female Buddha, Tibetan Buddhism - compassion, liberation, success. Compassionate Buddha of enlightened activity

Tara, White - Buddhist Goddess known for compassion, long life, healing and serenity; also known as The Wish-fulfilling Wheel, or Cintachakra

Tara, Red - fierceness, magnetizing all good things

Tara, Black - power

Tara, Yellow - wealth and prosperity

Tara, Blue - transmutation of anger

Tiamat - Mesopotamian dragon Goddess, embodiment of primordial chaos (the Velvet Dark)

Uma - Hindu Goddess of power, the personification of light and beauty, embodying great beauty and divine wisdom

Vesta - Roman Goddess of the hearth

Voluptas - Roman Goddess of pleasure

Yemaya - Yoruban Mother Goddess, Goddess of the Ocean

White Buffalo Calf Woman - Lakota Goddess

Stop downing Hestia

I don’t understand how people try to talk down on Hestia. Yes she is the goddess of the Hearth and Home but do you understand how strong you have to be to control these things? Family is not always easy, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, it’s tough, you’re in a house (or home) with people for most or even all of your life and there’s fighting and crying and Hestia steps in and calms it and brings joy to the home. Also she protects the home, do you know how hard that must be? And how powerful you’d have to be to do this? I mean Hecate, Zeus, Apollo, and Hermes are also protectors of the home and they get great respect so why shouldn’t Hestia? Really in my eyes, Hestia (when the house is threatened) is that silent destroyer that no one wants to mess with. Hestia brings people together so how dare you talk down on that. Hestia is caring and has great strength and she is a Goddess so show her respect!

THE SIGNS AS GODS & GODDESSES
  • Aries: God of Fire & the Seven Circles of Hell, punishing the sinners and heretics
  • Taurus: Goddess of the Home & Hearth, protecting our loved ones and our shelter
  • Gemini: God of Scholars & Education, watches over the spread of information and knowledge
  • Cancer: Goddess of Women, all things soft & feminine
  • Leo: God of Animals & Children, all things wild & free
  • Virgo: Goddess of Snow & Natural Phenomena, cruel yet natural and beautiful
  • Libra: God of Justice & Beauty, vain yet fair
  • Scorpio: Goddess of Death & Darkness, the dead and the afraid
  • Sagittarius: God of Travel & Adventure, new experiences and foreign affairs
  • Capricorn: Goddess of Success & Fame, fortune and notoriety. The She-wolf of Wall Street
  • Aquarius: God of Discovery & Technology, all things metal and shiny
  • Pisces: Goddess of the Ocean & Emotion, the seas are at the mercy of her moods
MBTI as Greek Deities!!

(OP Note: Lmao at people taking this seriously. IDGAF if you don’t agree. I agree and that is all that matters. uwu)

ISFJ: Hestia (Goddess of the Hearth)

ISTJ: Hades (God of the Underworld)

INFJ: Demeter (Goddess of the Harvest) 

INTJ: Apollo (God of Poetry, Light and Music)

ESFJ: Hera (Goddess of Wealth and Family)

ESTJ: Zeus (God of the Sky)

ENFJ: Dionysus (God of Wine and Fertility)

ENTJ: Athena (Goddess of Wisdom and War)

ISFP: Hephaestus (God of the Forge)

ISTP: Poseidon (God of the Sea)

INFP: Persephone (Goddess of Spring)

INTP: Artemis (Goddess of the Hunt)

ESFP: Aphrodite (Goddess of Sex, Love and Beauty)

ESTP: Ares (God of War)

ENFP: Eris (Goddess of Chaos and Discord)

ENTP: Hermes (God of Trickery)

The Signs as Greek Gods and Godesses

Aries: Ares (god of war)

Taurus: Hestia (virgin goddess of the hearth)

Gemini: Apollo (god of prophecy, healing, and the sun and light)

Cancer: Hera (goddess of women and marriage)

Leo: Zeus (god of lightning and the heavens)

Virgo: Dionysus (god of the vine)

Libra: Aphrodite (goddess of love and beauty)

Scorpio: Hades (god of the underworld and wealth)

Sagittarius: Artemis (goddess of the hunt, moon, and the natural environment)

Capricorn: Athena (goddess of war and wisdom)

Aquarius: Persephone (goddess of spring and queen of the underworld)

Pisces: Poseidon (god of the oceans)