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myth moodboards → poseidon
the seas were his to rule, and his alone.
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young god // halsey
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moodboard: the song of achilles
I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
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After all this time?
Always.
Harry Potter series (2001-2011)
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“Name one hero who was happy.” I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back. "You can’t.“ He was sitting up now, leaning forward. "I can’t.” ― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
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fromthe0therside
Use headphones.
moodboard: Nymphadora Tonks
Don’t call me Nymphadora. It’s Tonks.
There is a mouth
to these things.
The thistles you insist
cannot reach out
sink into those undone pieces,
clawed out cloth picked
until the loops
form fingers.
Until we dilated pupils
give way to gaze.
It wishes to make love
to us with
its teeth.
It wishes to tug until
we unwind,
left only to our apologies
our “you know how this goes”
our “didn’t we both know
what this meant?”
It owns a mouth.
Which is to say,
you can no longer ask without
the forest buckling, those
tricky knees, a
concave surrender into
worn-in, imminent skin.
“It tried,” the burial will say,
“It tried not to be
what it was born as.”
“We Could Not Listen” By Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)
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Is it our fate
Lonely spirits that we are
To wander forevermore;
Bound
To this earthly body
That still holds sway over our souls
Mortality wrapped in an immortal skin | l.x (via thesleeplesspoetsnw)
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you haven’t seen me antagonistic yet.
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—deliver my want:
my flowering
aches
for His touch
Andal, excerpt of Tai Oru Tinkal : Song to Kamadeva, God of Love (tr. by Priya Sarukkai Chabria)
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ya lit meme: seven friendships [1/7] ♡ the dregs // six of crows
Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.
Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.