teashoesandhair:

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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okayophelia:

ahh okay this is a tricky one, because king/lionheart is not my trope in the sense that while I love it, it’s not my thing, ya know?

if you really want to hear about king/lionheart you need to talk to cat or maddi, probably. they are both kinda brilliance itself, and are the experts on king + lionheart dynamics.

messiah/machiavel on the other hand is so entirely my thing, tbh it probably shouldn’t even be considered in the same category as a trope? it’s more of a personal term/tag i made up with the inimicable mal (who gave me lots of clever + witty + horribly mean advice for this answer). but i shall endeavour to explain what i - personally - mean by messiah+machiavel and how/when it intersects with king+lionheart.

SO it can definitely be a subset of king/lionheart with a particular twist of context. you see for me, messiah/machiavel is always in a political context of some kind. it’s about that separation of skillsets in the political context: the charismatic shining-bright leader of people, and the vicious (often-but-not-necessarily-violent) cunning enforcer.

so to my understanding (which could be wrong!), king/lionheart has a couple of few components:

• a) that status difference, where one of them really is a king, or of some other status defined by outside forces, and
• b) a consuming, fiercely loyal mutual love that is
• c) informed by their status difference so you end up having one being a swordarm/right hand type (lionheart) to the king, but behind the scenes that imbalance is kind of subverted/overcome by the love and respect they have for each other?

messiah + machiavel is something that can overlap with king/lionheart - where that emotional core of the dynamic exists - but not necessarily. it’s more about the political context + skillsets involved; leadership (messiah) + enforcement (machiavel). 

to expand:

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elucipher-deactivated20151112:

in the iliad helen speaks the last lament for hector. the only man in troy who showed her kindness is slain—and now, helen says, πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν, all men shudder at me. she doesn’t speak in the iliad again.

homer isn’t cruel to helen; her story is cruel enough. in the conjectured era of the trojan war, women are mothers by twelve, grandmothers by twenty-four, and buried by thirty. the lineage of mycenaean families passes through daughters: royal women are kingmakers, and command a little power, but they are bartered like jewels (the iliad speaks again and again of helen and all her wealth). helen is the most beautiful woman in the world, golden with kharis, the seductive grace that arouses desire. she is coveted by men beyond all reason. after she is seized by paris and compelled by aphrodite to love him against her will—in other writings of the myth, she loves him freely—she is never out of danger.

the helen of the iliad is clever and powerful and capricious and kind and melancholy: full of fury toward paris and aphrodite, longing for sparta and its women, fear for her own life. she condemns herself before others can. in book vi, as war blazes and roars below them, helen tells hector, on us the gods have set an evil destiny: that we should be a singer’s theme for generations to come—as if she knows that, in the centuries after, men will rarely write of paris’ vanity and hubris and lust, his violation of the sacred guest-pact, his refusal to relent and avoid war with the achaeans. instead they’ll write and paint the beautiful, perfidious, ruinous woman whose hands are red with the blood of men, and call her not queen of sparta but helen of troy: a forced marriage to the city that desired and hated her. she is an eidolon made of want and rapture and dread and resentment.

homer doesn’t condemn helen—and in the odyssey she’s seen reconciled with menelaus. she’s worshipped in sparta as a symbol of sexual power for centuries, until the end of roman rule: pausanias writes that pilgrims come to see the remains of her birth-egg, hung from the roof of a temple in the spartan acropolis; spartan girls dance and sing songs praising one another’s beauty and strength as part of rites of passage, leading them from parthenos to nýmphē, virgin to bride. cults of helen appear across greece, italy, turkey—as far as palestine—celebrating her shining beauty; they sacrifice to her as if she were a goddess. much of this is quickly forgotten. 

every age finds new words to hate helen, but they are old ways of hating: deceiver and scandal and insatiate whore. she is euripides’ bitchwhore and hesiod’s kalon kakon (“beautiful evil”) and clement of alexandria’s adulterous beauty and whore and shakespeare’s strumpet and proctor’s trull and flurt of whoredom and schiller’s pricktease and levin’s adulterous witch. her lusts damned a golden world to die, they say. pandora’s box lies between a woman’s thighs. helen is a symbol of how men’s desire for women becomes the evidence by which women are condemned, abused, reviled.  

but no cage of words can hold her fast. she is elusive; she yields nothing. she has outlasted civilisations, and is beautiful still. before troy is ash and ruin she has already heard all the slander of the centuries; and at last she turns her face away—as if to say: i am not for you