#sacred copulator

[myriadismx]

The other day I was watching a small documentary about the Amazons and how they kept their population numbers, and suddenly I had thoughts of Amazon Reader and Gargarean Bakugou.

Every spring, the all-female warrior Amazon tribe reunite with the all-male warrior Gargarean tribe for two months to reproduce, and they meet again 9 months later to claim their bunch of children of their respective sex.

The current and most fearsome Gargarean tribe leader, Bakugou, hasn't copulated with anyone in three years since the first two times he mated, he didn't knock anyone up, which was a huge blow to his ego and his reputation. However, he still goes with his men to the Amazon land to guide them since he's leader. His virility, his prodigious battle skills and the fact that his mother was a former Amazon queen attracts plenty of Amazons interested in bearing his daughters, but he refuses them even when they aggressively command him to give them his seed or leave the island.

When he storms off to the shore to get some privacy while his men have their merriment, he spots you, the newly crowned Amazon queen training by yourself under the moonlight, indifferent to the procreative activities of your sisters. He becomes fascinated with you, and decides if someone is to be the mother of his son, that'll be the strongest Amazon.

The reasoning behind your reluctance to engage with men stems from the loss of a lover you used to have. He was a kind and curious scholar that was stranded, and you kept hidden, until he was found by the other Amazons and killed on the spot before anyone could find out he was related to you. Ever since, you closed your heart and trained to be the strongest, so you wouldn't lose someone precious ever again.

When Bakugou attempts to seduce you with the offer of strong daughters, you scoff and promise to accept his advances only if he challenges and defeats you and all of your sisters by himself within one week, before you're most receptive to conceive. Most men give up when given this condition but not Bakugou. He smirks, holding you close and whispering in your ear to be prepared for him.

You try to give Bakugou an advantage and avoid looking at him fight, but this annoys him and he encourages you to watch every fight. Over the course of five days, the blonde Gargarean fights every single Amazon in the island with such efficiency that he also has time to woo the young queen. His intelligence, his proficiency in battle and his determination to have you impresses you, and look forward to fight him as well.

You're quite pent up when Bakugou almost completes his feat, and stands before you on his full battle attire. As expected, none of you go easy on the other, and both tribes watch your fight with excitement. To the Amazons, this fight between promised lovers is like a sacred dance to their gods before an important war. To the Gargareans, this show is nothing but the pinnacle of a fierce courtship, showing how much Bakugou respects and adores the woman he has chosen for himself.

Finally, after a scuffle that lasts a day and part of the night, both sides hold their breaths when their leaders pull off their final attacks on each other...

Then, you collapse because of a precise and swift strike followed by another that makes you fall to your knees before the man that points his spear at your throat, declaring him the winner.

Your injury incurs the rage of your sisters, but you stop them as Bakugou has won fair and square. Bakugou himself takes you back to your shelter and nurses your wounds. You expect him to bed you right away, but he actually decides to wait until you're up to it even if it takes another year, or many more. This one concession as well as his genuine care for your wellbeing warm your heart once again and you seduce him in turn.

It's the first time you've felt this loved, so intensely hot that you could die in a blink, and Bakugou shares your sentiment with the same passion. He relishes in the sound of your moans, encouraging him to brand you as his. During those moments, you forget your roles as rulers and are just a man and a woman loving each other.

Both of you know you're meant to part eventually, but from the moment he enters you, there's no way anyone else can replace the other in your hearts. You fear losing Bakugou and with him, your mind. But the promise of a daughter borne from that liaison is your only consolation. A son wouldn't be loved any less, but would leave you behind as well.

He returns to his own turf with satisfaction in his face, pride in his chest and scratches on his back. You stay behind with bites on your skin, a longing heart, and the fruit of your love in your belly.

By the end of the year, the Gargareans return to pick up the male children they've sired. Bakugou doesn't show it, but he's eager to see you and hopefully find you're still carrying. He was unable to sleep for many nights, a primal excitement running through his veins at the thought of you, swollen with his child. He contemplates taking you back with him and run off to start a tribe of your own without stupid rules that'll keep you apart.

Some of his men happily welcome their newborn sons for the first time, like Kaminari, or for the umpteenth time, like Kirishima. While others are frustrated when there's no babe or lover to greet them, becoming nothing but an afterthought. When Katsuki doesn't spot you, he fears what he felt when he made love to you was one-sided as well.

A soft coo behind him catches his attention. There you are, proudly holding in arms two babies with blonde hair like his: a girl, who is peacefully asleep, and a boy, who is still sucking from your breast. He softly strokes their little heads, and picks you up in arms to kiss you. He laughs at the realization that this is it. There's no turning back: he's willing to fight all the Amazons again to take you and your children back home with him.

#Bakugou x Reader #Bakugo x Reader #Katsuki Bakugou #Katsuki Bakugou x Reader #BNHA Imagines #BNHA Scenarios #Bakugou x Y/N #Bakugou x You

[merakiui]

Tell us more about Dr. Riddle and his captive pregnant wifey please!! Omg

Riddle has this delusion that you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without his aid. After all, he’s the licensed professional. He knows your body more than you do—at least on a professional level. He keeps you chained and collared to a metal support beam in the basement, and there’s a fluffy mattress for a bed. He feels immensely bad for subjecting you to these conditions, but the last time he thought he could trust you enough to bring you upstairs you nearly ran away. So for now you’re given fluffy sheets and pillows in hopes that it’ll provide enough comfort and soften you to this situation. Riddle doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has no choice sometimes, especially when you try to escape.

Still, it’s in a doctor’s nature to be patient and so he remains calm when interacting with you, even when you yell and struggle and kick. Sometimes he snaps at you, but for the most part he’s always sweet. Always smiling so adoringly at you, even when you’re crouched and shivering, too fearful to do anything but nod. You pick at your meals and he tries so hard to get you to eat everything on your plate. You need the energy. Don’t starve yourself; he won’t allow it. He sits in front of you and tries to start conversations as if everything is completely normal.

Inevitably, you’ll get pregnant. He wants a lot from you, and there’s no chance you’ll ever escape him. You’re trapped here; you have no say in the matter. Riddle keeps you just weak enough so you won’t feel compelled to squirm or hit him when he’s near you. It’s medicine, he claims, but you never know where medicine starts and when magic fades away. You have no clue if any of this is even a spell or the result of some prescription he thinks you need. During copulation, you feel so foggy and distant, as if you’re wading through a sea of smoke. Shamefully enough, you hate that it feels good. You hate that you cling to him when he’s making love to you, and it’s always so telling when you soak through the sheets with your slick arousal. How can you not when he’s whispering the sweetest things—things no one has ever told you before?

He’s even more of a controlling mess when you start getting symptoms, even more so when you start showing. He treats you as if you’re glass. Everything must be perfect; he can’t lose the baby. He can’t lose you. He drives himself half-mad ensuring you’re content and healthy, but with each passing month you only grow more hormonal. You’re so protective of the baby. Every time he attempts to get close to you, you curl in on yourself and hide your belly with the duvet or your arms. Riddle understands the bond between mother and child is a special, sacred thing, but please let him take your temperature, let him rub the oil on your belly, let him help you to the bathroom. You’re so stubborn, but he remains patient, scarily so.

Your wardrobe changes with each trimester. By the final few months, you’re swathed in soft, flowing, easy-to-remove nightgowns. Riddle seems to fall for you even more, if such a feat was possible. He loves you in spite of all the heartache you cause when you hide from him, protect your baby bump from him, insist you can do everything yourself. In between all of that, though, you struggle with your pregnancy libido. Grinding into your hand isn’t nearly as fulfilling as real, raw sex with Riddle. He smiles at you as he watches you try and fail to work yourself towards orgasm. Let him help; he knows you need him. You just refuse to recognize this yet and that’s okay. Your doctor always knows best, after all. He only wants to help you as a doctor (and lover) should.

Your child is raised in captivity. She’s a sweet thing, rosy-red hair like Riddle. But she has your eyes and so she’s the most precious treasure in your world. You love her to pieces in spite of everything. At first you refused to give her a name, as naming anything leads to inevitable affection, and you almost didn’t want to love her. But she deserves to be loved; it’s not her fault. You try to raise her, but it’s tiring with Riddle’s constant control. He never raises his voice at either of you, though, even when he’s frustrated. For that, you’re relieved. It’s exhausting to be a mother, but you’re determined to be the best mother for your little girl.

You hope to escape someday with your child in tow, but Riddle always has so many elaborate plans. He’s so organized when he pens all of the future goals he has for you and your child to be a good, happy family. And if you start to get just a little too smart and cunning for his liking, some medicine will provide an easy fix. That, or another pregnancy. Doctor’s orders. :)

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping

[eldritch-spouse]

I imagine Mother will just order angels to hold us by force so she could breed us, if we keep cockblocking her

Just think of four angels hold us by the arms and legs, like a rabid cat at the vet during an examination

TW: Noncon.

And the worst part is, at that point, your copulation has become a sort of public spectacle.

Sure, no one's there to make fun of you, quite the contrary, you're being congratulated and hailed as a living treasure -Which might just be worse than mockery- But Mother understood your concerns. She was willing to extend sacrifices for the sake of gaining your favor. She would promise to make the occasion of your joining a private one, hidden from the eye of her beloved followers and servants. She would do things the human way, if it meant having your cooperation and love.

But she supposes maybe you don't deserve want that after all, do you?

Four guardians hold your limbs, petting them, cooing, all collectively shushing your concerns, lacing their fingers with yours. Jonesy holds your head in his lap, murmuring how blessed you are in spite of your attitude, whispering sweet nothings, willing you to let yourself become Mother's, let yourself rise to a sacred role under her watchful eye, all the while an archangel with a skilled tongue works between your legs, their mouth the sweetest torture as your clit is rolled and sucked and they stop to kiss around your lips everytime you start getting close.

All of these angels are taking immense pleasure from this. You've learned that they're more akin to a hive than merely individuals. They'll do anything to please Miara, to pleasure her- And, by extension, you. Getting to prepare you for the first meeting of passions is a job many, many angels in Miara's island squabbled over. These lucky few are over the moon to be chosen. Wherein you might be sobbing and furious, they're trembling in arousal and anticipation. Some of them moaning, chirping in helpless pleasure as they watch you surrender to hormones, though never once touch themselves.

They can't. They haven't been allowed to. All that matters now is getting you sufficiently receptive to welcome Mother.

And, when Miara does join you, they can hardly keep themselves quiet, cheering for you with all the joy the world could hold while the guardians part your legs and Jonesy shifts to frame your glistening pussylips, spread them for his shrunken siadar's use.

Mother offers you a goddess' kiss when her fat cock stretches its way inside you, touching everything, leaving imprints on your body that you know will remain there forever, as evidence of this ritual. The celestials present peck and pet you, chittering sweetly as soon as she bottoms out.

Between Miara's gentle moans, the hands threading through your hair, the cooing, the fingers on your tits, hips, ankles -You don't even know who's pinching your poor clitoris anymore- It's hard to ignore what's happening, to distance yourself from these people, this fate that's been dealt upon you, from the active warping of your mind as empty words and soothing sensations erase your sanity.

What mere mortal mind could ever survive a god's lust?

You don't know what made you cum, or for how long you stretched out of your own skin, arched like a bow. All you know is that the archangel's slurping the area where Mother's shaft plows into you with a vengeance and you're going to start speaking in tongues if they don't stop. Adoring eyes look down upon you from all sides, your vision spins into different shapes and colors the more you're bounced by the higher's ardor.

Surprisingly, it's not the sensation of Miara's seed bloating your small body that causes you to freeze in primal terror.

It's feeling the last few remnants of resistance drown in her depraved love as your face softens, screaming inwardly when a content smile settles on your lips and your eyes glaze-

Forever lost to the world at large.

#Mother Miara #can you tell I like cult-y stuff? #i'm so subtle *cough*

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Roll Up with the Sacred Scarab

The sacred scarab (Scarabaeus sacer) is perhaps the most famous of all dung beetles as a symbol of worship by ancient Egyptians. Outside its godly role, this species can be found throughout northern Africa, as well as southern Europe and into western Asia as far as India. In Africa it inhabits both deserts and scrubland, as well as agricultural areas where food is abundant, while in Europe the sacred scarab stays more towards the coast in dunes and marshes.

Aside from its well-known association with religion, the sacred scarab is known best for its association with dung. When a source has been found, individuals roll it into tightly compressed balls known as telecoprids, which can weigh up to ten times their size. These telecoprids are then rolled with the hind legs to an underground chamber where S. sacer strains out and feeds on nutrient-rich fluids, molds, and undigested particles from the ball over several days. In addition to its role as a nutrient recycler, the sacred scarab is also an important source of food for many small mammals, reptiles, and birds.

In its native range, the sacred scarab will mate year-round provided food is abdunant. Males and females work together to form and move a dung ball back to the underground nest; it is during this stage that males will fight each other for control of the ball, while the female will simply follow wherever the telecoprid goes. Once in the next, male and female briefly copulate before the male departs to search for another mate. The female then sculpts the dung ball into a pear shape and lays a single egg in the narrower end, which is then sealed. Her job done, she too leaves to seek out another partner and repeat the process, laying over a dozen eggs in her lifetime.

After a week or two, a single larva emerges from the egg and begins feeding on the dung around it. Over the next 3 months, it will molt up to three times before forming a pupa. About a month later, a fully mature adult emerges and burrows its way to the surface to find a fresh source of food and potential mates. Unlike many beetle species, the sacred scarab is an adept flyer, and will often use its wings to travel between food sources as opposed to walking.

Though the sacred scarab may seem ornate in Egyptian hieroglyphics and jewelry, the species itself is quite plain. Individuals are completely black, and both sexes are indistinguishable from each other. Individuals can range from 1.9 to 4.0 cm (0.7 to 1.6 in) long, and weigh up to 2 g (0.07 oz). One interesting feature is their front feet; unlike other dung beetles, S. sacer doesn't have any. Instead they only have a vestigial claw-like structure that can be used for digging.

Conservation status: This species has not been evaluated by the IUCN, but due to its large population size and adaptability to urban and agricultural expanstion it is considered relatively stable.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Amadej Trnkoczy

Kev Gregory

San Diego Zoo

#sacred scarab #Coleoptera #Scarabaeidae #scarab beetles #beetles #insects #arthropods #deserts #desert arthropods #scrubland #scrubland arthropods #wetlands #wetland arthropods #urban fauna #urban arthropods #africa #north africa #europe #southern europe #middle east #asia #west asia #animal facts #biology #zoology

[ricebowl-san]

NXX team and how they caught Luke and Rosa banging each other (NSFW 🔞) Part 1 - Vyn

At 10pm, Vyn Richter remembered the important documents he left in the HQ. He went back and noticed how there was light evident from the gap underneath the door. A thought popped in his mind, thinking back how Luke and Rosa were hugging each other tight after the brown haired returned from his long mission given by NSB. 

“Did they forget to turn off the lights?” He thought and saw the door wasn’t even shut properly. “This could be very dangerous for the investigation.” 

The two of the team should have known not to do this lest there will be information leakage. He shook his head, pacing forward to close the door when he heard it. 

“Ah Luke, please!” 

Rosa? 

“That—! Oh dear! God! S-so deep! Yes!” 

Vyn blinked. He could not believe what he heard. But it was too obvious that the woman was clearly not speaking from a place of anguish. 

From the gap, he peered in, seeing how she was lying down on the desk, naked except for her knee high socks. Her buttocks were dangling off the furniture, with his hands firmly holding onto her waists as Luke kept pumping his dick into her cunt. 

“You like this, Rosa? Or do you want me to be gentler?” 

She answered by hooking her leg around his waist and rolling her hips to meet his urgent thrusts. 

“Faster. Faster, please—ah!—God, Luke, you’re just so—oh!—amazing!” 

Luke chuckled as his hand groped her jiggling boob, squeezing it and thumbing the hardened nipple. (She does have a very beautiful pair of breasts, Vyn noted). He leaned forward and sucked the areola so soundly, even Vyn could hear it. The detective then hiked her leg and threw it over his shoulder like a sash, penetrating his cock deeper by doing so. 

“Luke!” 

The psychiatrist gulped as he watched the couple going at it, causing the desk groaned and creaked underneath their intense copulation. How long had they been at it? He mentally calculated from the time the team dismissed their meeting of the day—probably around 8pm—and surmised the horny duo were having sex for 2 hours already. 

The documents that were originally piled on the furniture were pushed to the floor and he could not help but heave a sigh of relief that no important evidence was marred by their horny selves. 

‘At least, that’s one thing they managed to keep in mind.’

A part of him was disgusted by how the two treated the workplace as just another place for them to release their pent up sexual tension. Did they not know how loud their moans are or did they simply not care enough for that? 

But—another part of him decided to let it slide. 

He saw how Rosa’s eyes were brimming with tears as she ran towards Luke earlier that day. How tightly she hugged the detective who returned from another life threatening mission with zero contact with the outside world. He saw how Luke kissed her hair as he rubbed her back soothingly, promising her he returned unscathed. 

Vyn Richter decided, albeit against his own personal feelings, to let them copulate as much as they want in the sacred NXX HQ. He watched as they both screamed when orgasm hit them hard, observing the way they both panted haggardly in the aftermath of it and decided to pretend not to see that Luke kneeled down on the floor, pushing his face between her legs and eating his girlfriend up with so much gusto like there was no tomorrow. 

Only this one time though. 

He walked away, ignoring Rosa’s plea of wanting Luke to suck her clit harder and taking a mental note to check on them later at probably 5 in the morning afterwards. 

Though… 

When he came back at the said time, a blanket in hand, he could still hear the slaps of skin against skin and their mingled moans echoing in the room. He sneaked a look through the still unclosed door, knowing that at this point, the two simply cared nothing about the rest of the world and surely not even the psychiatrist himself. 

The couple was now on the floor, with Luke’s windbreaker beneath Rosa in the least attempt to not dirty her back and Vyn groaned at the idea of them spending hours in the HQ fucking everywhere with a surface on it. And here he thought Marius was the horniest of the bunch when clearly Luke and Rosa were claiming the throne. 

Rosa’s legs pressed up against her to the point it nearly touched her shoulders and her body was practically bending in half. Luke was pounding into her mercilessly. His thrusts were deep and hard and anyone who even looked at him at the time knew that Luke Pearce knows how to fuck a woman properly and delightfully. 

“Luke, please! I can’t anymore!” 

“Your pussy keeps clenching me, Rosa. Are you sure you can’t keep going?” 

“Your cock feels too good. I can’t help it! Hng! Luke! It’s growing! You’re growing bigger!” 

“I can’t help it when you say it like that. But you can take it, can’t you? Look, you’re taking me so well. Your cunt is welcoming me.” 

“I’m going to cum!” 

“Cum for me, Watson. Soak my dick with your cum and let me lick your pussy off it afterwards.” 

“Oh Luke!” 

And on and on and on they went. Vyn pursed his lips and backed off. ‘God, does the word ‘tired’ not exist in their dictionary? They better get rid of the stench or I will ban them from future meetings.’ 

He turned around and muttering curses on why the hell he even bothered to wake up this early—against his usual routine—just to find out they still haven’t finished fucking each other. He was pretty sure that these two would have a few other rounds after this and opted to resume his sleep, keeping in mind to plug his ears before that. 

Fuck these two. Really.

#tears of themis smut #a tad bit exhibitionist? #idk mannnn #totnsfw #tears of themis luke #ignore the grammar mistakes i have been fuelled purely by the horn!knee power #why was vyn staring at them for a long time? honestly i have no clue man #lukerosa are VERY horn!knee in this mini series

[anarkissm]

one of the most fascinating aspects of the Alien series's xenomorphs is the way they impregnate hosts as murderous parasites: an allegory to the horrors of pregnancy/birthing, specifically the ways it can violently disable or even kill the human body. this was an intentional parallel that H.R. Giger made when he was designing the xenomorphs, artistically expressing his own personal phobia with childbirth. compounded by the symbolic eroticism and copulative violation of the xenomorph's impregnating methods. the forced penetration, the insemination. the pain, and the inability to escape it, as it happens. it will literally kill you, if you try. the conventionally "feminine" shape of the xenomorph and its homogeneous hive controlled by its "queen". this is, at its core, body horror. horror of the reproductive or birthing body, and horror of the seemingly inescapable suffering of gestation.

it becomes even more evident when the yautja are involved: an ancient enemy of the xenomorph, considers xenomorphs their god and the perfect predator, are a primarily matriarchal society but not homogeneous, conventionally "masculine" but biologically intersex. in many ways, the yautja are the antithesis of the xenomorphs. known to capture and sadistically torture xenomorphs in erotic positions of submission:

it is also important to note that unlike the yautja: by all accounts, the xenomorphs are biologically engineered. "unnatural" in the sense that they were created only for destruction, a weapon; exploited by capitalistic industries.

in a way, the yautja prevent this violating act on the xenomorphs' victims by ritually killing them, preventing the realization of Giger's phobia or at least minimizing the infestation. the complex and "warring" relationship between xenomorphs and yautja hunters are that of equals and opposites. "masculinity" and "femininity". darkness (xenomorphs, which are stealth hunters that blend perfectly into the dark) and light (yautja, who literally bend light around them via shiftsuits). yin and yang. etc. a paradoxical harmony that the yautja seem to recognize, and viewed as sacred. this is why they hunt the xenomorphs, embodiment of a corrupted darkness.

this allegorical dynamic between yautja and prey is not exclusive to the xenomorphs. yautja hunters and their human prey are often illustrated in suggestive positions, creating a jarring juxtaposition of sadism, eroticism and death (possibly as a metaphor for domination).

I have already covered that the yautja's prey are exclusively mercenaries, special forces soldiers, killers and cops. Essentially, they hunt predators. the yautja's relationship with their human prey is almost always an exercise in domination; they view these murderers as their equal in terms of brutality and sadism (which is why they enjoy hunting them so voraciously; to them, human killers are dishonoring the hunt by killing civilians and unarmed souls), if not in sheer strength and technological prowess. human killers often choose to fight yautja hunters with brute strength or a hail of advanced firepower. and, predictably, it never works. survivors defeated "the predator" with cunning, ingenuity, and the ability to use their environment and limited resources to their advantage. Moreover, these survivors usually only face one or two at a time, which offers them some advantage.

Ultimately, the yautja (with the exception of many bad bloods) revere the ancient harmony of the universe and all life in it, as they understand the origin of creation came from their mother-serpent (an ancient meteor which germinated the perfect chemical soup in the beginnings of "the big bang", which then traveled across the universe, spreading life throughout); they use their strength and power to protect the prey of these human pedators.

#SCAR. #avp comics are so funny; one second ur watching a cruise ship massacre and the next boom SHIBARI XENOMORPH #but in all seriousness i'm a big fan of complex dynamics & 'oh these dudes were not ''evil'' all along (obviously and blatantly)'

[viviennelamb]

Let me give you a Jagad Genius Hint: the last thing that will bring you Bliss is a Blow-Job. What you’re doing when you put your sacred mouth to someone’s genitals is: dragging your disgusting and desecrated 5th Chakra to The Region of Hell known as The Unchaste Genitals… That’s way worse than hell mating with hell: as in plain copulation… There’s a reason The Vital Dental Health of Humanity is a disgusting joke, the deadly bacteria in your filthy mouths leading to your every manner of mis-diagnosed death… O, and there’s a reason you will begin to suffer all manner of terrifying Oral Plagues… I’m just crossing my fingers that one of those plagues Mutes Y’all Insolent Filth The Fuck Up for Good… Self-Contemplation does not begin begin without the real longing for Real Real Chastity…

-Happy Now Olivia!

#purity

[eritvita]

continued from x ;

@ramblingsofamoonwatcher​

Blessed art the Schools of Known magick to keep the creaks and slips of wood betwixt his walls and doors quiet and sealed and tempered from the moans and outright growling of his sacred copulation with his Goddess; blessed art the myriad of stamina potions riddled within cupboards nearby, and with the littlest bits of leaf and root to keep and chew to borne Roland’s willpower back onto viable, audible cues.

But that streak of fear hast his borne blood to blue ice whence a familiar knock … and then a familiar voice comes through that cracked door before the White Beauty barrs them from truly seeing inside Roland's College room. He shoots up from his nest of blankets and comforters, littered in bruises and tender marks of sharpened teeth, and gently lethargic aside the creases of his eyes for this pleasant, common coupling.

He gawps openly. And then crows and chokes for an amiable calling. "Onmund!" calls he, shuffling quickly; falling from the bed in a great 'thud'; bobbing palms for pleasantries of his physical health. "What is the matter?"

He mouths 'keep him there?' with an endearing tilt to his eyebrows, as he leaves that desperate warmth of the bed to find his trousers; to mind those slicks of covetous blankets and furs what threaten to cling at his ankles. “Is there a fresh Lesson? Hast J’zargo burnt the kitchen once more?”

#i love your meme response i want to frame it #oMG #ramblingsofamoonwatcher #just huge tall hithril standing half naked and not speaking #the mage sweating #beautiful imagery my GOD #v; misty mountains cold #th; white bedding

[spyridonya]

For Zophus & Raph: “ this is torture, isn’t it? “ “ not in the slightest. “

I HAVE ANOTHER ENABLER! I threw Haarlep in, too. Haarlep will be given their/them pronouns due to not really being sure if masculine is their preferred form or Raphael's preferred form. Tossing in a little bit of Pathfinder lore because I like mixing my planar stuff together and D&D has a woeful amount of celestial lore. Again, using the 2nd point of view though the Named Tav in question isn't the 'reader'.

sacred romantic raph being an ass moments meme

The scent of musk in the air reminds you of embers, the appealing tangling cruelly with the sour memory of childhood. You blame that squarely on the shoulders of the incubus who rises from the tangle of sheets, limbs, and leathery wings. There was hope, of course there was, of you being caught between master and slave and the temptation still aches on your tongue.

And yet you're still here, settled on a chair that is soft and inviting under your muscular form, large enough to hold you comfortably. Your breathing is even due to effort though your blood sings in your veins and you are hard - almost painfully so - against the wool of your pants and small clothes.

One of the near identical heads rise, though you know it's Haarlep, even before you see the shockingly younger features of Raphael upon them. The appearances puzzles you, you're not sure if this is how Raphael truly sees himself or if it is a small rebellion of the enslaved fiend to be different than his master.

There's a grin that's not quite the same, but it's sharp and unkind towards the little thief that's snuck upon their master's home. Jealousy or disruption of the long game between them, you cannot tell. Wordlessly the naked fiend passes you, and you refuse to follow their wake. Rather you feel the heat of the incubus' passing.

Your gaze then returns to the cambion and you despite the fact you can easily tell them apart by motion and gesture. The movement of powerful limbs and crimson wings, ember eyes on you, the smile on carved features.

"Why does a hungry man not partake in such a feast during a famine?" Raphael murmurs in that smokey tone of his, all gravel and rumble, and not like the coy silk of Haarlep's voice.

"I've become a man now?" You respond, your voice lower than you'd like, the coloring of lust betraying you, fraying the edges of an oath made in anguish.”Not a mouse?” 

"Answering a question with a question; your blood seems not to be of an archon. An azata perhaps, the song of freedom under colorful wings,” The cambion hums with amusement, “Perhaps that is why you buckle so under the tenets of a faction that has no need of your skin."

The word azata means nothing to you; a deep sorrowful regret that you don't know your own blood. Your own life beat and how you've come about in the planes. You merely shake your head, "A creature of order criticizing a philosophy of supreme order."

"Perhaps if I were a full blooded fiend, the irony would be more apt." Raphael lifts his arms with clawed fingers laced together and stretches, the smooth ruby skin shining in the light of boudoir’s lamps and lanterns. "Shall we blame my mother who could never live up to the ideals of Baator until her death and descent? Still, there's my father. Perhaps he is even more to blame for my taste of whimsy." Wings settle about Raphael and he smiles before he begins to rise. You catch the gleam of cum on his thigh, dripping from his copulation with Haarlep.

He had wanted you to join. You had wanted to join. The only chains that bound you to your chair was your oath.

There's no snap of his fingers as he approaches you, his height and weight once there and now gone. The ruby of his skin was replaced by copper tone. Horns gone. And yet he's still naked, still muscular, but now lean. A body that betrays the lines of his carved face. That puzzle whispers to you again. Cambions are immortal, they stop aging. And yet Raphael appears to you as a man in his middle age prime and not someone closer to your own. You are a young man just settling into the second year of his third decade; twenty two.

His eyes take in your form, the slow drag of it can almost be felt and your cock aches even harder. You inhale, exhale slowly, and smell nothing but cherries and brandy. You do not reach for him as he stands before you, leaning over you, the heat of his body so terribly close.

"This is torture, isn't it, Zophus?" He murmurs, half question and half admission.

"Not in the slightest," You lie as Raphael hand catches your jaw, as you can smell Haarlep's musk on him, and as you wonder how quickly you could make the cambion come. Or how long you could make him beg. How long it would take the mask the scent of the incubus with your own.

Lying, after all, does not break your oath.

#answered ask #dujour13 #raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #character: zophus #character: sophus #character: raphael

[starcaptain]

Something I've learned about myself as I've aged is that I've come to love men in an erotic way that combines lust and a sort of sacred awe of their beauty. Like sexual communion between two men in anon sex or committed relationships, or whatever in between is so sacred. Heavenly gay copulation with hellish lustful desires

#this includes trans men #because they're men

[malatest]

⚔ ⸻ ( jon bernthal → cis man → he / him / his ) / / * seems like james malatesta , crossed the city limits into rome : you know , the forty-seven / 47 year old nephilim / shadowhunter , who is reputed to be + focused and +diligent , but is avoided when they are -cold and -detached . rumor has it that has been heard saying ❝ i forgot softness. softness did not serve me. ❞ . that would explain why they do not care for the mortal instruments . *

Name. James Malatesta. Nicknames. None. Please do NOT call him Jim or Jimmy or any variant of James. Age. Forty7. Sexuality. Heterosexual. Date of Birth. November 8. Place of Birth. Rome, Italy. Gender. Cis Man. Pronouns. He, him, his. Current Location. Rome, Italy. Languages. English, Italian, Enochian. Zodiac. Scorpio. Bad Habits. Chews his lips and cheek out of boredom. Puts his feet on furniture. "Manspreads" on furniture. Hobbies. Reads extensively. Fears. Being alone. Other Mentionable Details. James has hidden his true nature as a Nephilim for as long as he's been aware of it. His mother used runes to hide it prior to that, obviously aware of her copulation with an angel. James is aware he will likely outlive most of his friends or loved ones, and this is partially why he keeps people at an arm's length, despite his fear of being alone. He often avoids churches and jokes that he'll burst into flames if he walks into one. Faceclaim. Jon Bernthal. Height. 5'11''. Hair Color. Dark brown. Eye Color. Dark brown to honey, in some light. Turns gold when angry or threatened. Notable features. Imposing stature, 14x broken nose (he never learns), nearly permanent scowl but incredible smile when he lets himself. Parents Names. Cosima Malatesta (mother) and Umbriel (father). Siblings. None. Pets. None. Income. He inherited the Malatesta estate upon his mother's passing. Residence. Malatesta Estate - an old Victorian-style manor that's been in his family for generations.

Cosima Malatesta was always a lonely woman. Devout in her beliefs and descended from a well-known Shadowhunter bloodline, Cosima inherited her mother's beauty and her father's talents and devoted herself to the Clave. By all accounts and standards she was the ideal image of a Shadowhunter; following each law to the letter and spending most of her time in the field wherever it was deemed necessary. Up until her death, and following her to the afterlife, she was revered as a great woman and an attribute to the Clave, and the Rome Institute later as a researcher.

Her encounter with Umbriel is wholly unknown.

None would suspect that such a law-abiding Shadowhunter would dream to break one of the most sacred of rules, but the conception of James would surely tarnish the Malatesta name and reputation.

47 years ago, under circumstances even he is unsure of, James was conceived from the union of Angel and Mortal.

Raised as a Shadowhunter, James was spirited away to New York under the claim of a change of pace shortly after his birth and Cosima dedicated her skills and knowledge to the Institute in the City. He was raised with no knowledge of his heritage until he approached puberty, and only then did his mother bind him in a runic promise not to share the tale of his birth - lest he live a life damned by the very people he was raised among.

When Cosima was called back to Rome she left her son with tears in her eyes and a kiss planted to his forehead, another promise that sh would see him again soon.

She passed when James was 20. Something he was heartbroken for. Mother's are all boy's first loves, after all.

It was in the New York Institute that he met and bonded with Jordan Shadowheart. Their mutual love for mischief had them drawing a close friendship - something James considered a brotherhood, which eventually led to their binding as parabatai. For years he worked with his closest friend and ally (he'd consider these golden years, if asked) unaware that the severance of this bond would come in their twenties.

It was sudden, painful, and not at all understood. James nearly overturned the Rome Institute in his rage and pain - a loss that had him severing his emotional ties to those he had been raised around. Without a mother to love him, without his closest friend and bond to share in the world with, it simply felt easier to allow himself to numb out entirely.

Time wore on. He withdrew further, lending his expertise and anger into assignments that took him all across the world. Learned and experienced, by the time he returned to his family's estate in his mid-thirties to semi-permanently settle he had been approached at least once to rise to the rank of Inquisitor. At least once every few years he'd been asked and each time James denied the responsibility. It hardly seemed worth it to invest in a people that would sooner damn and destroy him for his existence than accept him as one of their own... as he'd always been.

So it's gone: years without knowing Jordan is still alive in the world albeit as a a Downworlder James has hunted the kind of all his life. years without allowing himself the pleasure of another connection for understanding that it simply doesn't matter... he'll outlive them anyway, years of runes burned into scars over actual scars on his body shone silver under noontime sun. Years of loneliness building walls so high he simply doesn't recall how to connect on a meaningful level to anyone else.

Years in self-appointed solitary confinement. Punishment for daring to love, to exist.

A promise kept to a Mother adored and missed. A secret safe.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Dalliances - While James is remiss to form emotional bonds he is a man like any other, weak to the physical needs one might find themselves in service to. He's a known name in Rome, has been for many years (between his family's lineage and his own whispers) and has garnered something of a reputation for being good for a one night stand. He's not beholden to the laws of the Clave and has happily dabbled with Downworlders if it meant mutual satisfaction in the end.

Comrades - A repeat Shadowhunter he's been sent on assignments with now and again. They know about his embittered attitude, seeming disregard for his own safety, and ultimately callous methods when deployed to a task. They might be considered friends of James were the kind to use those terms. Either way, his bristled personality doesn't bother them and they work well together, even.

Old Friends - They knew James back in New York, or when he first came back to Rome with Jordan. They remember what he was capable of in the realm of pranks and mischief, of chaos that used to light his eyes in puckish light. Still, they try to bring out that flame they know is stuck deep in him somewhere, buried in thorns and acrimony. They've even gotten him to sincerely laugh a few times, and maybe show up to his family's estate to ensure he doesn't become a complete shut-in outside of assignments. He really appreciates them, but he'd never let them know it. They keep him from being entirely alone.

Someone who knows Jordan is alive - And has for a while. Maybe they saw Jordan, maybe they just found out. Maybe they interact with him often. For whatever reason they've kept this to themselves for however long and now they're going to share the news with James. He should be happy his old soul-bond is actually alive, right?

#darkdescent.intro #death tw

[aegor-bamfsteel]

Why are hyenas demonised in pop culture?

For the same reason that crows/ravens, vultures, coyotes (wolves to a lesser extent), etc are: they’re scavengers who eat dead animals, which was thought of as less brave than animals who hunt live prey on their own, plus being associated with dead/rotting things is a bad omen. Hyenas readily eat human corpses, and a dead body has been considered a sacred home of the soul (to the point that until very recently during the scientific revolution, doing autopsies wasn’t allowed), so they were also thought grave robbers. Then there’s the unusual genitals of the female (as they have no external vagina, instead having a large clitoris through which they urinate, copulate, and give birth), thus giving rise to the myth that they are hermaphrodites that persisted into the 18th century; Christian writers (though the stereotype emerged with Aristotle) took this to mean they were “double minded” aka faithless and prone to sexual deviancy.

Recently, hyena researchers have been fighting back against their negative depiction, going so far as to sue Disney for defamation of character in The Lion King (because he had invited the animators to the University of California’s Field Station for Behavioural Research to sketch the captive hyenas, and we got…Shenzi and crew.)

#hyenas #ask #opinion

[deathlessathanasia]

It is widely known among Greek mythology enthusiasts that Hera never actually wanted to marry Zeus and that she had to be tricked into marriage or forced via rape. One could be surprised to notice the popularity of this idea, seeing how no major Greek author, from Homer and Hesiod to Nonnos of Panopolis, seems to ever state such a thing. So where does it come from?

"The presence of a cuckoo seated on the sceptre (of Hera's statue in the Argive Heraion) they explain by the story that when Zeus was in love with Hera in her maidenhood he changed himself into this bird, and she caught it to be her pet.”., Pausanias, Description of Greece 2. 17. 4.

Despite this being a very particular, localised myth that is an idiosyncrasy  of Hera's Argive cult, it somehow became the most popular version of how Hera ended up married to Zeus. Though this is by far the most accessible account of the story, what with it being even quoted on theoi.com and all, one can notice that it actually says nothing about marriage, or sex, or basically anything truly informative about what exactly took place there. For this reason, using Pausanias to argue whether or not Hera was raped or tricked or forced into marriage is pretty much useless. Still, on a first glance nothing here seems particularly rapey, or at least it wouldn't seem so if this weren’t Greek mythology and if we didn't know for what kind of purpose Zeus uses such disguises. To my knowledge, we have precisely one instance in surviving Greek literature of Zeus employing metamorphosis into an animal without a sexual purpose: when he changed himself into a serpent and his nurses into bears in order to escape Kronos. In any case, his purpose is already suggested here, but the following account spells it out explicitly.

In explanation to the passage in Theokritos’ Idyll according to which "women knew everything. They know all about Zeus marrying Hera.", a scholiast gives us the following account, based on a treatise on the sacred traditions of the city of Hermione (the author of which, incidentally, is not a woman): "He (Aristocles) reports that Zeus wished to unite/mix/mingle (μιγῆναι) with Hera from the time he saw her alone, apart from the other gods. Wanting to be invisible so that he was not seen by her, he changed himself into a cuckoo and perched on the mountain which then was called Thornax, but now is called Kokkyx, and that very day he caused a terrible storm to break out. Walking by herself, Hera arrived at the mountain and sat down there, where today is located the sanctuary of Hera Teleia. She saw the cuckoo flitting about, and it perched on her lap, trembling and frozen by the storm. Looking at it, Hera pitied it and took it under her mantle. Zeus suddenly changed his form again and grasped Hera. When she refused to copulate with him because of her mother, the god promised to make her his wife. Among the Argives, who honour this goddess more than any others of the Greeks, there is in a temple a statue of Hera seated on a throne, holding in her hand a sceptre on which is perched a cuckoo."

These two accounts seem to differ quite a bit in the way Hera came across the metamorphosed Zeus and what happened afterwards (no pet keeping in this variant, it seems), but they obviously refer to the same Argive tradition. It is evident that deception is involved, and the situation is clearly reminiscent of similar tricks Zeus employs in other stories. I have occasionally seen attempts to interpret what he does in this myth in a less odious manner, mostly by trying to pretend that his intentions towards Hera are not necessarily sexual in nature. That is, of course, absurd and naive (read: deliberately obtuse) in the extreme even in the very lowkey account of Pausanias, but here it is easily refutable by simply looking at the text. The verb μίγνυμι doesn't necessarily refer to sexual intercourse (though this is definitely one of its meanings), but  the context really doesn't leave much to interpretation. It is clear at least that we aren’t dealing here with  an act of rape in animal form, since Zeus does abandon the disguise before taking hold of Hera. What is most significant here is that the text makes it explicit that she refuses to have sex with him, though it’s worth noting that the reason she gives has nothing to do with her wanting to remain a virgin forever as it is commonly claimed (nor with his propensity to sleep around as it is also commonly claimed lol). For some reason her concern is her mother, which is certainly odd because what on earth does Rhea have to do with any of this? Karl Kerényi and Robin Hard interpret the mention of the mother and Hera's reluctance to sleep with Zeus as a reference to the fact that they are full siblings, children of the same mother. That has never stopped Greek deities before, but in lack of anything else I suppose this explanation is as good as any, though Nicole Loraux points out that this passage “may allude only to a young girl's modesty in the presence of her mother.” Now whether the promise of marriage is meant to be a sort of compensation for the rape or a way of reassuring Hera and persuading her to accept Zeus's sexual advances the text doesn't say and is something I can't even begin to guess. I suppose one could be charitable (the way people would doubtlessly be if such a myth was told about Hades and Persephone) and choose to believe that she accepted to sleep with him once she received the guarantee of a socially sanctioned and official union, just as one can choose to read it in a more unpleasant manner.

A third version of the myth appears in Pseudo-Plutarch’s “About Rivers and Mountains and Things Found in Them”, and though it makes no mention of marriage, I think this one is most clear about rape taking place: “But the mountain was denominated Coccygium for a reason of this sort. When he had fallen in love with Hera his sister and bedazzled his beloved, Zeus produced from her a male (alternative translation: and having vanquished her by his importunity, begat a male child). Then the very mountain called Lyrceium from the occasion was named Coccygium, as Agathonymus records in Persis.). I am not very happy with the English translations I’ve found, so here is the Greek text describing what Zeus did: "Ζεὺς Ἥρας τῆς ἀδελφῆς ἐρασθεὶς καὶ δυσωπούμενος τὴν ἀγαπωμένην ἐγέννησιν ἐξ αὐτῆς Ἄρη". All possible meanings and connotations of the word δυσωπέω are negative (to put out of countenance, importunate, abash, disturb etc), all the more so in the context we have here, and this variant is unique in mentioning a child (Ares) being conceived, which makes it beyond any doubt that sex did take place. Add to this the fact that virtually all sexual unions used to explain the names of rivers and mountains in this work are rapes, and I’m convinced that this one definitely involves sexual assault.

In short, it is safe to say that, as with most events in Greek mythology, different versions of this particular story existed and that some were more rapey than others, though I must add that just because rape isn’t explicitly and unambiguously described in an ancient Greek text doesn’t mean that the text in question does not involve rape. Also, anyone with common sense and without an agenda can doubtlessly come to the logical conclusion that when a male deceitfully approaches a female for the purpose of sex, her consent is, to say the least, not of primary importance to him.

Next, there is this late and odd story from Ptolemy Hephaestion. Or rather, we have a summary of it related in the Myriobiblon of Photius and, though no one seems to ever use it as a source, I'm putting it here for the sake of thoroughness: "The author (Hephaestion) speaks of the Achilles son of the earth and of all the Achilles who have been celebrated since Trojan times; it is this son of the earth who, when Hera fled from the union with Zeus, received her in his cave and persuaded her to marry Zeus, and it is said that this was the first marriage of Zeus and Hera, and Zeus promised Achilles that he would make famous all who bore his name. It is for that reason that Achilles son of Thetis is famous.".

Not much I can add here. I know of no other source that mentions this Achilles son of Earth (in all probability the author invented him and the entire story), nor of any other source according to which Hera needed to be persuaded to marry Zeus by a third party. That aside, I don't see any allusion to rape or forced marriage here, though Hera's initial unwillingness is not up to debate.

Now my question is this: why should any of these stories take precedence over others that don't include rapey elements? It should be mentioned that half of the  accounts given above are rather questionable; the authority of the writings of both Pseudo-Plutarch and Ptolemy Hephaestion is flimsy at best, since both of them are generally thought to have essentially made up many of the sources they cited in support of their various stories. We still have the Argive tradition attested by Pausanias and in the scholion to Theokritos, but it is certainly interesting that the idea of violence, trickery and unwillingness in the context of this particular relationship is so eagerly emphasised by so many, to the point that different traditions are hardly ever mentioned, considering how the much more blatant violence, trickery and unwillingness in the abduction of Persephone myth are constantly glossed over and rewritten into love and consent. To be clear, I don’t like this kind of revisionistic whitewashing when it is done with that myth and I wouldn’t like it done with this one either. I have absolutely no interest in the erasure of the uncomfortable aspects of this myth or cutesifying a story which, at its least disturbing, is about a man approaching a woman for sex on false pretenses and naturally I have nothing against those who want to explore Zeus and Hera's relationship or Hera's character from this angle (not my thing, I must admit, and personally I find it a bit overdone). What irks me about the almost exclusive focus on the cuckoo myth is twofold: it overshadows all other traditions, making people get the impression that no other narratives exist, and it makes those who don't want to deal with rapey elements in the relationship of Zeus and Hera try to sanitise this particular story which is a personal pet peeve of mine but, more importantly, is a complete waste of time when there ARE other traditions that do not (seem to) involve rape and are in no way less authoritative than those that do.

As a first example there is Homer, who has little occasion to say anything about how Hera and Zeus got married, but who does instead allude to "that time they first went to bed together and lay in love, and their dear parents knew nothing of it". In all fairness there is no way to know with any certainty that the sexual union invoked here was consensual, but there is also no indication that it wasn’t... and I mean, if someone wants to read rape in such an innocent-sounding description, there really isn’t much to say other than I hope they are equally exigent when analysing situations involving those mythological characters they do like. Anyway what Homer describes here  could have been a pre-existing tradition or it might be an Homeric innovation, no way to tell and ultimately it matters little, since the idea of a secret premarital tryst between Hera and Zeus is attested in several local traditions as well which means that if it was an ad hoc invention of the poet of the Iliad, it sure became influential for such a small reference.

back to local traditions then, there is this Boeotian one related by Plutarch and quoted by the Christian Eusebios of Caesarea: "they relate that Hera, being brought up in Euboea. was stolen away while yet a virgin by Zeus, and was carried across and hidden in this region, where Cithaeron afforded them a shady recess, nature's own bridal-chamber. And when Macris----she was Hera's nurse----came to seek her, and wished to make a search, Cithaeron would not let her pry about, or approach  the spot, on pretence that Zeus was there resting and passing the time in company with Leto. And as Macris went away, Hera thus escaped discovery on that occasion, and afterwards calling to mind her debt of gratitude to Leto she adopted her as partner in a common altar and common temple, so that sacrifices are first offered to Leto Μυχία, that is, 'of the inner shrine'; but some call her Νυχία, 'goddess of night.' In each of the names, however, there is the signification of secrecy and escape. Some say that Hera had secret intercourse there with Zeus, and, being undiscovered, was thus herself denominated Leto of the night: but when her marriage became openly known, and their intercourse first here in the neighbourhood of Citliaeron and of Plataea had been revealed, she was called Hera Τελεία and Γαμήλιος, goddess of the perfect life, and of marriage."

In this instance we have abduction followed by sexual intercourse, which I would normally find a HIGHLY dubious situation, to put it mildly. However, seeing how Hera is described as grateful for not being discovered by her nurse, it doesn't look like she was an unwilling participant here.

Samos was one of Hera's main centres of worship, so naturally The Samians just like the Argives had their own traditions concerning the goddess. As well as claiming Samos to be the place where Hera was born and brought up, "She is also said to have been deflowered by Zeus on Samos, as reported by certain scholia to Book 14 of the Iliad, which comment on the premarital union of the two and connect it with a local ritual which took this form: for the sake of Hera, it was said, the Samians assembled all their marriageable daughters in secret, but then the nuptial sacrifices were carried out in public view before all the world." - Vinciane Pirenne-Delforge and Gabriella Pironti, The Hera of Zeus: Intimate Enemy, Ultimate Spouse. The Iliad scholia (to which I don't have access so I must resort to the writings of modern scholars) also relates that "after Kronos had been sent down to Tartaros, Hera was betrothed (as a presumed virgin) to Zeus by Okeanos and Tethys but promptly gave birth to Hephaistos, having anticipated her marriage by lying with Zeus in secret on the island of Samos; to cover the deed, she claimed that the birth was without benefit of intercourse" - Timothy Gantz, Early Greek Myth: A Guide to Literary and Artistic Sources (compare and contrast with the story of Ares' conception from De fluviis of Pseudo-Plutarch above). It also seems that Zeus and Hera were said, again in the Iliad scholia, to have slept together in secret on Samos for three hundred years: "Most of the local legends and rites that are recorded in connection with the divine union refer to the first prenuptial intercourse between Zeus and Hera rather than to their wedding. It was claimed, indeed, on Samos that the pair had first slept together on that island in utter secrecy for three hundred years." - Robin Hard, The Routledge Handbook of Greek Mythology.

This premarital intercourse of Hera and Zeus might also be alluded to by Kallimachos in the following fragment (this is how, as far as I know, most scholars interpret the text, though differing opinions do exist) regarding a Naxian prenuptial custom: "And already the maid had been bedded with the boy, even as ritual ordered that the bride should sleep her prenuptial sleep with a male child both whose parents were alive. Yea, for they say that once on a time Hera - thou dog, thou dog, refrain, my shameless soul! thou would sing of that which it is not lawful to tell".

Nonnos has Aphrodite claim that she had "joined Zeus in wedlock with Hera his sister, after he had felt the pangs of long-lasting desire and desired her for three hundred years". This tells us nothing about how Hera felt about it all, but, well, she did keep the robe she wore "when she came to her brother a virgin in that secret union.". She seems so weirdly nostalgic about it, too: "the embroidered robe she wore was her oldest, still bearing the blood marks of maidenhead left from her bridal" (wtf Hera?) and when preparing to sleep with Zeus she decides to wear it in order to "remind her bedfellow of their first love". I don't know what to make of this (other than Nonnos being a weirdo as usual) but it doesn't seem like her first sexual experience was traumatic or unhappy, since she keeps such an... unusual memento of it.

There are quite a few other texts that mention the marriage of Zeus and Hera, though they give little to no detail about it and, as one comes to expect from Greek mythology, don't provide any insight into how she felt about it and whether she was willing or not. For example, we learn from Hesiod that "Last of all he (Zeus) made Hera his fertile wife, and she bore Hebe and Ares and Eileithyia, sharing intimacy with the king of gods and men.", and from Pseudo-Apollodoros that "Zeus married Hera and fathered Hebe, Eileithuia, and Ares". The very simplistic and unfanciful nature of these accounts may or may not be significant, but contrast them with how even Hesiod mentions the abduction of Persephone by Hades, and Apollodoros does not shy away from mentioning instances of rape: he does specify, for example, that Porphyrion tried to rape Hera, that Asteria and Metis did not want to have sex with Zeus, and that Hades kidnapped Persephone. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, but if Hera's forced marriage were as common a fact as people make it out to be, it is at least a bit surprising that not even the Bibliotheke says anything about it. Diodoros of Sicily relates that "Men say that the marriage of Zeus and Hera was held in the territory of the Knossians at a place near the river Theren, where now a temple stands in which the natives of the place annually offer holy sacrifices and imitate the ceremony of the marriage, in the manner in which tradition tells it was originally performed.", but again this doesn’t tell us much, nor does the story according to which Gaia brought golden apples at the time of their wedding. In Aristophanes' Birds it is said that "the Moirai formerly united Olympian Hera to the King who governs the gods from the summit of his inaccessible throne." and that "Rosy Eros with the golden wings held the reins and guided the chariot; 'twas he, who presided over the union of Zeus and the fortunate Hera.” which, if nothing else, is a nice (if conventional) image.

In any case, Hera's behaviour in the myths hardly looks like that of a woman who hates her marriage and wants nothing to do with her husband, so those who argue that, actually, Hera persecutes Zeus’s mistresses and children not because she is angry about him sleeping with other women but because she is upset about having been “blackmailed” into marriage (I’ve actually seen this claim) or the like are objectively wrong. Even when she is so angry with Zeus that she leaves Olympos and refuses to return, she still can't stand the idea that he might take another wife. As Pausanias relates it: "Hera, they say, was for some reason or other angry with Zeus, and had retreated to Euboia. Zeus, failing to make her change her mind, visited Kithaeron, at that time despot in Plataia who surpassed all men for his cleverness. So he ordered Zeus to make an image of wood, and to carry it, wrapped up, in a bullock wagon, and to say that he was celebrating his marriage with Plataia, the daughter of Asopos. So Zeus followed the advice of Kithairon. Hera heard the news at once, and at once appeared on the scene. But when she came near the wagon and tore away the dress from the image, she was pleased at the deceit, on finding it a wooden image and not a bride, and was reconciled to Zeus. ", to which Plutarch adds the detail that "with joy and laughter (Hera) herself led the bridal procession, and gave additional honour to the statue, and called the festival Daedala, and nevertheless from jealousy burnt the thing, lifeless though it was.". More relevant is the fact that Argive Hera can regain the status of parthenos and does so annually through her bath in the Kanathos spring, which can easily be interpreted as her willingly choosing to renew her marriage over and over again.

#ok this is the final iteration of this post #at least until I inevitably come across other relevant sources that will need to be added #hera #zeus #greek mythology #rape #ramblings

[riphimopen]

ok fine fuck you. ive been seeing that stupid fucking callout post circulating again so here’s the final word on the accusations and after this im blocking on sight if you bring it up. I HAVE NOT:

done falsehood against men

i have not impoverished my associates

i have done no wrong in the Place of Truth

I have not learnt that which is not

I have done NO EVIL

I have not daily made labor in excess of what was due to be done for me

my name HAS NOT REACHED the offices of those who control slaves

I have not deprived the orphan of his property

I have not done what the gods detest

I have not calumniated a servant to his master

I have not caused paint

I have not made hungry

I have not made to weep

I have not killed

I have not commanded to kill

I have not made suffering for anyone

I have not lessened the food-offerings in the temples

I have not destroyed the loaves of the gods

I have not taken away the food of the spirits

I have not copulated!!!!!!!

I HAVE NOT MISBEHAVED

I have not lessened food-supplies

I have not diminished the aroura

I have not encroached upon fields

I have not laid anything upon the weights of the hand-balance

I have not taken anything from the plummet of the standing scales

I have not taken the milk from the mouths of children

I have not deprived the herds of their pastures

I have not trapped the birds from the preserves of the gods

I have not caught the fish of their marshlands

I have not diverted water at its season

I have not built a dam on flowing water

I have not quenched the fire when it is burning

I have not neglected the dates for offering choice meats

I have not withheld cattle from the god’s-offerings

I have not opposed a god in his procession

I AM PURE, PURE, PURE, PURE! My purity is the purity of that great phoenix which is in Heracleopolis, because I am indeed the nose of the Lord of Wind who made all men live on that day of completing the Sacred Eye in Heliopolis in the second month of winter last day, in the presence of the lord of this land. I am he who saw the completion of the Sacred Eye in Heliopolis, and nothing evil shall come into being against me in this land in this Hall of Justice, because I know the names of these gods who are in it.

[moonyartsblog]

Today Mike as...

Series 6 Post 8:  God of boundaries, roads and travelers, thieves, athletes, shepherds, commerce, speed, cunning, wit, magic and sleep Psychopomp and divine messenger

🌸 His attributes and symbols include the herma, the rooster, the tortoise, satchel or pouch, talaria (winged sandals), and winged helmet or simple petasos, as well as the palm tree, goat, the number four, several kinds of fish, and incense. However, his main symbol is the caduceus, a winged staff intertwined with two snakes copulating and carvings of the other gods. 🌸 Homer and Hesiod portrayed Hermes as the author of skilled or deceptive acts and also as a benefactor of mortals. In the Iliad, he is called "the bringer of good luck", "guide and guardian", and "excellent in all the tricks". He was a divine ally of the Greeks against the Trojans. 🌸 The Homeric Hymn 4 to Hermes, which tells the story of the god's birth and his subsequent theft of Apollo's sacred cattle, invokes him as the one "of many shifts (polytropos), blandly cunning, a robber, a cattle driver, a bringer of dreams, a watcher by night, a thief at the gates, one who was soon to show forth wonderful deeds among the deathless gods." 🌸 Beginning with the earliest records of his worship, Hermes has been understood as a chthonic deity (heavily associated with the earth and/or underworld). As a chthonic deity, the worship of Hermes also included an aspect relating to fertility, with the phallus being included among his major symbols. The inclusion of phallic imagery associated with Hermes and placed, in the form of herma, at the entrances to households may reflect a belief in ancient times that Hermes was a symbol of the household's fertility, specifically the potency of the male head of the household in producing children.

#singmovie #sing2 #singfanart #illuminationetertainment #mike #mikesingmovie #mikethemouse #whitemouse #canoncharacter #cc #godhermes #greekmyth #greekpantheon

[autogyne-redacted]

Pay attention to how a moral person behaves, who today often thinks that he is done with God and throws off Christianity as some­ thing spent. If you ask him whether he's ever doubted that copulation between siblings is incest, that monogamy is the truth of marriage, that filial piety is a sacred duty, etc., a moral shudder would come over him at the idea that one may touch his own sister also as a wife, etc. And whence this shudder? Because he believes in those moral commandments. This moral faith is deeply rooted in his chest. As much as he rails against pious Christians, he himself still remains as much a Christian, namely a moral Christian. In the form of morali­ty, Christianity holds him captive, and indeed a captive under faith.

Monogamy is supposed to be something sacred, and whoever lives in bigamy gets punished as a criminal; whoever commits incest suffers as a criminal. Those who are always shouting that religion should not be seen in the state, and that the Jew should be a citizen equally with the Christian, show themselves to be in agreement with this. Isn't this perspective on monogamy and incest a dogma? Touch it, and you will find out how this moral hero is also a hero of faith, despite a Krummacher, despite a Philip II. These fight for the faith of the church, he for the faith of the state, or the state's moral laws; for ar­ticles of faith, both condemn anyone who acts differently than what their faith will allow. The stigma of "crime" is stamped upon him, and he may languish in houses of correction, in prisons. Moral faith is as fanatical as religious faith! It is called "freedom of belief" then, when a brother and sister are thrown into prison for a relationship that they had settled with their own "conscience." "But they set a pernicious example." Yes, indeed, others could also come to think that the state does not have to interfere in their relationship, and fr om this "moral purity" would collapse. So the religious heroes of faith crusade for the "sacred God;' the moral ones for the "sacred good."

rip Stirner, you would have loved canceled tranny Tumblr

#he really went off here