I’m feeling a bit silly today and I came up with this idea….
Okay, soI know the gods of myth are supposed to be all majestic and timeless and whatever, but I cannot stop imagining what would happen if they got their hands on Instagram. Like, just picture Zeus trying to slide into DMs and accidentally live-streaming himself shapeshifting into a swan. Again. Blocked by Hera for the 387th time this week. Honestly, the god has zero chill and I feel like he’d be the type to post vague thirst traps with cryptic captions like “Lightning never strikes twice… unless I want it to ⚡😉.” Sir, please log off.
Now let’s talk about Athena. Oh, you know she’s running a flawless, grayscale aesthetic with Latin quotes and black coffee in moody lighting. She’s the queen of the #NoFilter movement but also subtly tags her owl in every post, like, “Just me and Glaucus vibing in the war room ☕🦉.” She’d totally have one of those perfectly curated highlight reels labeled “Wisdom,” “Battle,” and “Petty Feuds w/ Poseidon.”
Meanwhile, Poseidon is definitely that guy who overposts vacation selfies. Beaches. Buff arms. Salt in his curls. Always tagging some random trident brand like it’s a casual sponsored post. “Just me, vibing in Atlantis. #OceanDaddy #DeepThoughts.” I feel like he’s also constantly tagging his location even when he’s somewhere sketchy like, “Mediterranean trench 🧜♂️🌊💀.”
And Loki? Oof. Loki is absolutely thriving in chaotic Instagram energy. His grid is pure nonsense: mirror selfies that distort his face, cursed memes, illusion tricks, and unhinged Instagram stories where he starts a poll like “Should I shapeshift into your ex and cause emotional turmoil today? 💔🐍” And the results are always 98% yes because honestly, we live for the drama.
Oh! Persephone. My girl would run two accounts. One is all soft-core cottagecore vibes—sun hats, pomegranates, beeswax candles, “accidental” flower crown selfies. The other? It’s a secret Finsta called @UnderworldWitchBabe where she posts shadowy OOTDs, rants about seasonal depression (literal, not metaphorical), and thirst reposts of Hades brooding by a fireplace. “Me looking respectfully.” (And Hades, being the ultimate goth boyfriend, reposts it with the caption: “She lights my eternal abyss.”)
Not gonna lie, I think Dionysus would have the most entertaining stories. Every post is blurry, chaotic, and usually involves someone dancing on a table. He’d be posting from vineyards with half-drunk poetry and random centaurs just wandering in and out of frame. Comments like “bro where even ARE you” would flood in hourly, and the answer would always be a shrug emoji and a photo of a spilled goblet.
And then there’s Anubis—underrated king of the aesthetic feed. Like, you just know that man’s Instagram is visually immaculate. Monochrome black, golden accents, slow-mo shots of incense rising, jackal-themed nail art, and captions like “Sometimes silence speaks louder than the living.” You double-tap it and immediately feel like you need to reevaluate your life.
Honestly, if mythological gods had Instagram, I don’t think the world would be better off—but it’d be way more entertaining. Olympus would fall, sure, but not before we all got to witness a comment fight between Hera and Aphrodite over a shirtless pic of Ares. You can practically hear the passive-aggressive emojis already.
Anyway, now I really want a Greek pantheon reality show where the gods are just influencers with delusions of grandeur and wildly clashing aesthetics. Someone call Netflix. Or better yet—Dionysus. He’ll produce it, stream it, and forget about it all by morning.
When Brooklyn librarian David Rosen accidentally brings a clay figure to life, he discovers an ancient family gift: the power to create golems. As he falls for charismatic social worker Jacob, a dark sorcerer threatens the city. With a rare celestial alignment approaching, David must master his abilities before the Shadow’s ritual unleashes chaos—even if using his power might kill him. The Golem’s Guardian
