cowboyscaviar
mara
writer/mythology enthusiast barbie
274 posts
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Dialogue of a Christian
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the trojan war/the odyssey au where everything’s the same except these two are on olympus giving commentary
#the iliad#the odyssey#homer#emily wilson#greek mythology#tagamemnon#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#suzanne collins#lucky flickerman#caesar flickerman
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i have mixed feelings about this album
#the tortured poets department#i fw guilty as sin though i love it#and i still have to listen to the anthology so we’ll see#but right now🥲
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I really tried to stay cool
But your arrogance disturbed my solitude
Now I ripped your dress and you're all black and blue
Look what you made me do
― Beyoncé, DAUGHTER
(insp.)
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wheres the smiling blackfoot family i want to see the smiling blackfoot family
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check out literally just sitting outside if u can. the hobby of the summer
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the tortured poets department (2024):
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“A Christian Palestinian girl places her fingers in a cross-shaped impression in one of the columns of the Church of Nativity in the West Bank town of Bethlehem, in a traditional sign of devotion.”
Photographed by Awad Awad.
19 December 2000.
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“Portrait of a Palestinian woman and child.”
1990.
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an alternate urzai meet cute. i know what the comics say about them but I like to think it was more complicated than that. anyway — Prince Iroh notices that his usually uninterested brother seems to have had his attention fully captured by the young woman at the water’s edge watching them row by.
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Le Nang Hien (Vietnamese,1921-2014)
Seated Lady with a Cat, 1990
ink and colour on silk
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legitimately the deluge of messaging women/girls are subjected to all their lives about how their teens and twenties are their "best years" is heinous psychic terrorism on a mass scale. not a coincidence that women are primed to believe that they're going to be "past their prime" and deteriorating like fucking spoiled milk right at a point in their lives at which they're likely to be only just beginning to truly come into their own
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a little Lethe
The little child whined when he was set down. Big, brown eyes blinked up at the gently glowing ceiling, too blurry for him to really make out. He slapped the ground, face scrunching at the scratchy dead grass. Head wobbling, he began to move, fisting the crinkly brown around him and yanking, giggling.
The sound of burbling drew him, innocent curiosity turning to fear at the amount of—of people around the burbling sound. They stood tall and silent and scary. And then, his eyes alit on a shiny helmet, lighting up in joy just as fast.
He crawled to the one person he knew, tiny body quickly growing exhausted as he struggled in the riverbank’s sand, but—there. His knees used to soft furs, his hands used to clutching at his mother’s hair, were reddened and smarting. But he did it. He made it.
Astyanax giggled, looking up at his father, reaching his hands as high as he could and waving his tiny fists.
“Up! Upupup!”
Prince Hector of Troy did not answer. Astyanax frowned, face crumpling as easily as cloth, cheeks reddening as he fought not to scream. His little fists lowered, slapping down on the sand. He did it again, a mighty plap, breathing picking up. He was determined.
Astyanax gripped at his father's legs with stubby hands. Using Hector's shins for support, the babe wobbled to his vulnerable feet, sniffling. He scrabbled at the leather straps holding up bronze greaves because he’d never done this on his own and the thought of falling and failing and being bad was terrible. Worse than the itchy sand.
But little Astyanax did it, standing on teetering legs, even if he was leaning against Hector’s. His tiny fingers wriggled where they pinched under pressure of the strap, a pout marring his rosebud mouth. But joy lit up that face soon enough, because surely now dada would look at him. The boy tilted his head back, careful to not tip completely and ruin it. Dada's face was shadowed by the scary helm, and it made Astyanax fuss with the leather he had ahold of. That bubble of uncertainty was growing too big for so tiny a body to contain.
One hand still on the prince of Troy's legs, the other balled into a fist and was pushed into a gummy mouth, teeth not quite in all the way yet.
Quiet, my love, we can’t be found. Astyanax remembered what mama’d said, and he was good. A good boy. He shoved his fist in a little deeper, just in case, feeling everything too much, overwhelm dampening his lashes.
Why wasn't dada listening? Why wasn't he moving?
Whimpering, Astyanax knew he'd be bad if he screamed but it was hard, so hard and dada was right there and—
Astyanax let go of Hector’s legs, a chubby hand rising, ready to strike, angry, so angry at dada—only to fall onto his bottom in the sands of the river bank because he lost his balance. His other fist popped out of his mouth, and like an uncorked bottle, he started to cry. Big, fat drops ran down reddened, babysoft cheeks in heartbreak.
The babe looked up, up, up through water-filled eyes at the blank gaze of Hector—
whose mouth was still wet with Lethe.
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TROY (2004)
It's all a game to you, isn't it? You roam from town to town, bedding merchants' wives and temple maids and you think you know something about love? What about your father's love? You spat on him when you brought her onto this ship! What about the love for your country? You'd let Troy burn for this woman? I won't let you start a war for her.
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basically
#writeblr#tropes#courtly love#gwencelot#arthuriana#lancelot du lac#guinevere#lancelot and guinevere#tristan and iseult#tristan and isolde#alicent hightower#ser criston cole#alicole#hotd#nahri e nahid#darayavahoush e afshin#the city of brass#the daevabad trilogy#aurora and philip r my fave disney couple too😔#pls reblog w recs!!!🫶🏽
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