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Death sat by my side.We were a lovely couple…

Chaotic-poetic (via chaotic-poetic)

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Women of the Classical World | Dread Persephone

The rape of Persephone is one of the earliest recorded Greek myths, and the most often misappropriated. Persephone’s capture by Hades is an allegory for the Greek institution of marriage, but what’s often overlooked is how closely this myth correlates to the real-life horrors of marriage and womanhood in ancient Greece.

Before Persephone’s capture, she lives with her mother, Demeter, and is known by the name Κόρη, which literally translates to “girl” or “virgin.” When the god Hades - her much older uncle - sees her, he falls instantly in love, and asks Zeus, Persephone’s father-uncle and Hades’ brother, for her hand in marriage. When Hades carries her away on his chariot, she is still a young teenager, probably between thirteen and fifteen years of age - the Greeks’ idea of a healthy marriageable age for girls.

ἁρπάξας δ’ ἀέκουσαν ἐπὶ χρυσέοισιν ὄχοισιν ἧγ’ ὀλοφυρομένην· ἰάχησε δ’ ἄρ’ ὄρθια φωνῇ, κεκλομένη πατέρα Κρονίδην ὕπατον καὶ ἄριστον.

And he seized the unwilling girl up on his golden chariot as she wailed, and she cried out in her clear voice, pleading with her father, Zeus the best and highest. (Hom. Hymn 2 to Demeter)

So Persephone goes down to Hades as an unwilling bride. This parallels a traditional Greek marriage ceremony, in which the bride was led through the streets by her new husband, who gripped her by the wrist as she looked at the ground and followed him, submissively, to his house.

Persephone’s myth has a supposedly happy ending: It’s said that she grew to consider the Underworld home, and that she rivaled the other gods in power. Hades was faithful to his wife, unlike most Greek gods, and because she was a goddess, Persephone was granted the concession that she would be able to visit her mother for a few months every year - a concession that mortal women might not have been given. In short, the myth of Persephone and Hades tells us two things: First, the Greeks believed that a woman who was forced would come to love her husband; and second, that the Greeks believed that a woman could only become powerful by accepting the wishes of her father and husband and learning to make the best of her new home after marriage.

You can read Homeric Hymn 2, in which Persephone’s story is told, here. The story is also told in Apollodorus’ Library 1.29, Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book 5, and referenced in Cicero’s In Verrem 2.4, among others. Photo credit to Luminous Lu.

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- So what is the best way to a man’s heart? - Between the fourth and fifth rib.

Riddick (via scottnoblethemetacrisis)

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       " Do -- do you know my husband? He is very           powerful. I love him. And he can kill you. I           would -- I would leave me alone. "

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awiides:

{ ;; } —— — - Her kisses bring life into him.                  With every touch of her lips his very core                  seems to warm up, his grip increasing on her to                  keep her closer and hold her— lavish in her                  warmth for time passes fast— far too fast when she                  is there with him, days and weeks merging together.                      “— My bed has felt cold without you there, my love,                                your duties await you— and they are many,                                       I assume you will have no problem taking                                       care of those issues that have arisen during your                                            absence—- make sure it is all right again.”                  He sighs, lips pressing against hers once moare to seal                  what lays between them, his fingers lacing into her                  hair as a reminder of whom she belongs.                         “.. — It is wonderful having you back.”

   His hands on her -- they tingle down her tiny    spine, offering a grin to her mate. Cold against    warm, dark against light -- small lips press    animated to his jaw bone.

                             " -- And my duties to you? It is my job to keep                                 you warm -- and I cannot be without springtime                                 for so long -- I have missed you so much -- "

    She is his -- all his, and yet, he is in the palm     of her tiny hand. A small frame presses against     him, keeping him close to her. How lovely he is             -- with his cold, and ice, and his hands in her hair. 

                            " I hope you know you owe me kisses -- a lot of                                kisses. I was gone, and I need them, you know!                                You owe me the whole of your springtime                                -- that is your duty -- "

   A playful bite to her lip -- her King in her fingertips,    it makes her skin glow with an intensity only found    in his presence.

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awiides

{ ;; } —- — - It seems as if his hands cannot grasp her tightly enough,                 cannot comprehend the very feeling— the touch of her that                 closes around him, near burning his skin — burns him to the                  core with the warmth that surrounds her.                   He gazes upon her, eyes firm with affirment and trust on her,                wearing the signs of her abscence in his features— worn and                pale — showcasing his nature more now than ever. A smile                 curls upon his lips— no, a smirk, — his fingers finding their way                grasp her face, hold her features for himself— run through her                golden hair to guide her closer, bringing their foreheads to a                 touch. The god of the dead smiles, though wicked and grim.         a king is a king regardless. yet he is  n o t h i n g  without his queen.                When he speaks it is as if he is using his voice again after years,                upon years without use— cracked and torn — rasping at his throat.      “—- There is no greater pleasure than having you back, my Queen,                                                             — Your absence has left me .… lost.”

       Oh -- this flower gives a grin, pressing a        lingering kiss to his mouth. He is so c o l d                  -- it must be her duty to warm him, to love                      him, to press kisses to him daily. This is                      her profession as queen -- and what a                      lovely one.

                                     Her cheek presses against his hand, a                                      warm coo releasing against his mouth.                                      It seems that those of spring should                                      not miss such a cold, but, oh -- how                                      she has whined for him and his touch                                      daily! 

       " -- I brought -- flowers. For you. And I have          missed sleeping beside you. It makes me          sad -- and I am hardly ever so. I wish to          take charge of my duties as soon as          possible -- my love. "

                                  The last of her words are a promise,                                   eyes blinking fast to meet his -- he is                                   worn! She is spring, and must give life                                   to him by her presence.

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The Abduction of Persephone, Rembrandt, ca. 1631