Heqet (Heket)

A goddess of childbirth and fertility, depicted as a frog, or a woman with the head of a frog. According to one tradition, she was the wife of Khnum, the creator god of Abu (Elephantine). He created each person on his potter’s wheel, and she breathed life into them before they were placed in their mother’s womb. Pregnant women wore amulets depicting Heqet for protection, and during the Middle Kingdom ritual ivory knives and clappers inscribed with her name were used to ward off evil during childbirth. She could also bring on labour and offer protection during labour. 

Heqet was depicted as a frog because, to the Egyptians, the frog was a symbol of life and fertility, since millions of them were born after the annual inundation of the Nile.


Medusa, meaning “guardian, protectress” was a Gorgon, a chthonic female monster. Of the three mythological Gorgon sisters (Euryale, Medusa and Stheno), Medusa was the only mortal one.

Originally Medusa was a very beautiful maiden with luscious and soft hair. She grew up and became a priestess in one of goddess Athena’s temples. Like all priestesses she was bound by an eternal oath of chastity. Poseidon (“God of the Sea”) saw the beautiful Medusa one day and raped her in Athena’s temple. The goddess, enraged by the fact, could not harm Poseidon and so she unleashed her rage on Medusa. She punished Medusa by turning her into a horrifying monster, with hair made from snakes and the ability to turn onlookers into stone. As further punishment  Athena exiled Medusa to an island on the western edge of the world, were she awaited her fate. Years passed and eventually Perseus showed up with a magic shield that was given to him by Athena to slay the poor girl- by chopping off her head. From her headless neck sprung out Pegasus, a winged horse and a giant with a gold sword named Chrysaor. It is said that these were the children of Poseidon trapped inside the monstress due to her punishment.

Perseus used Medusa’s head as a weapon during subsequent battles prior to returning to Athena. Athena then took the head from Perseus and threw it into her shield where it remained.

I love how Filipino mythological monsters, no matter how big and terrifying they are, can also be really nice???

Colossal tree demons that daze travellers and cause people to go astray?

It’s high on weed and wants to be your friend. May also develop a crush on you and grant you wishes. Literally stoned all the time.

Giant cyclopses with immense strength and amplified senses?

Plays around in the forest giggling at it’s own jokes and running away from other animals and people because it’s too shy. 

Hobgoblins knowledgeable of ancient magic involving complete human bodily deconstruction?

Won’t harm anyone if you excuse yourself when near its presence. Can also bless you with good fortune if knows you won’t bring harm to its underground home.

Shapeshifting, day-walking, human eating monsters with scorpion tail proboscises tongues, detachable upper bodies that crawl on ceilings, and make disturbing noises in the dark if it spots you?

Can be socially awkward, introverted, shy, and implied to be terrible at cooking and choosing to eat out instead. They also have standards when it comes to hunting: neighbors and human friends are completely off limits and may even be protected.

A Balaur is, in Romanian mythology, a fantastic animal of huge size that often takes the form of a serpent with wings, legs and heads of a snake (three, seven, or even twelve), representing an embodiment of evil and present in most Romanian fairy tales.

While the balauri(plural) resemble dragons in many ways, weavers of Romanian lore point out that they have several distinct traits. In many tales, they’re actually snakes transformed during long periods of isolation underground. The snake turned balaur grows one head for each year of isolation. Some legends accredit them with the common dragon ability of fire-breathing, but others ascribe to them the ability to influence weather and cause thunder, lightning, and hail. Even more unusual was the purported formation of  precious stones from the saliva of a balaur (a risky way to gain treasure). Almost universally, the balauri represented evil, being strong, wicked, and cruel. Though they acted according to their beast-like nature, in many accounts they also possessed human-like voices and ability to speak and reason.

While legends of dragons appear in many cultures, the balauri are distinct to Romanian folklore. As such, early accounts were primarily passed down through oral tradition. It wasn’t until later years that these tales began to make their way into print. Mythology collections by Petre Ispirescu in the 19th century captured many of the Romanian myths, including that of the balauri, and others followed in Ispirescu’s footsteps, creating books of various Romanian lore.

Most of the tales deal with the conflict between the balauri and their enemy, Făt Frumos, the Romanian equivalent of Prince Charming–a heroic, handsome figure of good. The balauri and Făt Frumos appeared in many different tales, but the various renditions followed similar themes, with the balaur a danger to the land and Făt Frumos a defender of the people. Făt Frumos most often acted to defend the beautiful maiden who would become his bride and usually defeated the balaur in question. Whether intended or not, there are some interesting Christian parallels present in the legends of the balauri with the evil serpent, the valiant hero, and the chosen bride, as well as parallels to tales that exist across various parts of the world.

Scientists recently discovered remains of a new type of dinosaur in Romania and dubbed it “balaur bondoc”, after the mythic creatures of old. While relatively small, the dinosaur balaur was a powerful and destructive beast.

Other photosets/info on Romanian mythology:

Artemis, the goddess of hunt and the moon fell in love with Orion. She was so entranced by him, she forgot her divinely duty of illuminating the night sky. Her twin brother Apollo, seeing Orion swimming in the sea, dared his sister to strike what only appeared to be a spot on the waves. Not knowing it was Orion, Artemis shot an arrow and killed him. Later, when she found out what she did, she placed his body among the stars. The grief she felt explains why the moon looks so sad at night.

“Elves are the embodiment of light and beauty and good–”

No fuck that shit. They are beautiful and they are light. But they are a harsh and cold or burning passionate light. They are the light that is beautiful in that it cleanses and burns out all else. Don’t trust an Elf. Not beyond the letter of their word. The letter, not the intent. You live that long, you don’t need to lie, intent changes, language changes. Words are malleable. Respect and admire the fae, but also fear them. They are as terrible as they are beautiful and as likely to be ruthless or cruel as they are to be kind or compassionate. They are not devoid of kindness, but neither can you expect their kindness and effort to be bent to something with a life so brief next to their own. I love Elves, but not this shiny, friendly crap sold to you by Santa stories nor Keebler’s cookies nor ElfQuest nor the dozen of fantasy novels that paint them as ethereal but friendly guardians of the forest. Fuck that shit. They are beautiful and I adore them, but I also know to be wary of them.

Apis (in Greek) was the old bull god of Memphis.

One bull was chosen from marks on its body and theologically he was considered to have been born by a virgin cow impregnated by the local creator god Ptah. The animal was well fed and all measures were taken for its well-being. When Apis was well the live stock of the country was thought to be the same. 
After years of care it was ritually slaughtered by drowning and the search for a new one began. Parts of the bull were then eaten in a sacramental meal and the rest of the body was embalmed.

Worshipping bulls is known since cattle breeding began in around 7000 B.C. and was with time spread over the whole eastern Mediterranean region. 


The Sites of King Arthur: 1/?

The Glastonbury Tor

Glastonbury and it’s surroundings have long been associated with the legendary Isle of Avalon, where Morgan le Fay and her nine sisters dwelt. The lake waters that once covered it were drained centuries ago, and it is no longer an island. But pilgrims still flock to the area, especially to climb its iconic hill, the Tor. While just over 500 feet high, Glastonbury Tor can be seen for miles around, crowned by its ruined tower, all that remains of a medieval church of Saint Michael, the archangel who guards the high places. Archaeologists have found traces of prehistoric settlements on its summit, while footings of a building from the Romanic-British era have also been discovered, along with votive offerings, suggesting a pagan temple once stood here. A terraced path spirals around the hill to form a huge three-dimensional maze winding to the top. It may have been an ancient processional path in a bygone era, but its age is uncertain.

Long considered a portal to the Realm of the Dead, Avalon is where King Arthur was said to have been taken to be of his wounds after his last battle. [It’s also considered to be his final resting place, with his tomb supposedly bearing the inscription “Hic jacet Athurus, Rex quondam, Rexque future,” meaning “here lies Arthur, king once, king in the future,” which is pertaining to the legend that Arthur will rise again and be king when Britain most needs him.]

The Tor is also home to Gwyn ap Nudd, the King of the Fairies and Lord of the Underworld. On stormy winter nights, Gwyn is said to ride at the head to the Wild Hunt, the great cavalcade of spirits that sweep through the skies in pursuit of the wandering souls of the dead, to lead them to their home beyond this world.

 Quote by Mara Freeman

greek mythology: hades x persephone

persephone sits on the arm of hades’ throne of onyx and skulls. her arms are wrapped around his neck, palms resting on the marble of his bare chest. her head is light on his shoulder and her lips brush the lobe of his ear just barely as she whispers the stories of mortals into his ear. hades is cold, a skeleton come to life, shadow and bones made into a god. the underworld has hardened him, and years have passed since he’s been to the surface, since he’s seen the world of the humans. his wife’s stories are all he knows of it.

she tells him of machines, of devices. skyscrapers, camera phones and apps. she tells him about love, about human lives, stories of starlight. he hasn’t seen the stars in a long time but when she whispers to him he remembers. 

he loves persephone. he loves her stories and her tenderness. the underworld has hardened her but her core remains as sweet. sometimes she angers him. sometimes for entertainment. winter makes her moody and her stubbornness is only matched by his. sometimes they clash but he loves her still.

and she loves him too. she’s spent centuries hating him, but it’s gotten old, the fighting’s become uninteresting. it took a while but the hate has given in to something else as she began to understand him and at times to even care for him.

she teaches him to live, explains emotions and feelings to him. in exchange he teaches her about power and she learns she has power over him too. she learns how to use it and at times he allows it.

nymphs, spirits & dwellers of the deep | naiads

she roams rivers and ponds, creeping up creeks and hiding among pads of lilies and spawn of frogs, fresh faced with locks of hair adorned and gilded with entwined flowers and lace, perching on fountains, at home in springs and rippling brooks, she watches and waits, both enchanting and poisonous in her jealousy – which springs up like an ugly snake from the depths… and although tranquil by nature, her curiousity and charming playfulness know no boundaries as she clasps you in her carnal, and ultimately destructive embrace.

greek mythological girls fighting evil: cassandra

in this modern era, cassandra is the daughter of a prestigious gang who are- unknowingly- on the cusp of a great gang war.

(she sees the blood coming. she tries to warn them, but her father’s gun is too loud and he hears nothing else. she tries to warn them, but her mother is crying too loudly. she tries to warn them, but they send her away, to a place with white walls and kind-eyed nurses. it’s all beginning.)