fleur, slowly removing her heart shaped sunglasses: i beg your fucking pardon
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shark vs the universe
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Love Begins
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@cascadingthroughthevoid
fleur, slowly removing her heart shaped sunglasses: i beg your fucking pardon
Rainy day in Kyoto
my favourite thing about the story of hades and persephone is that the story grew up with us.
i think most of us, when we were young girls ourselves, heard that first, most tragic version of the story: persephone, the innocent child of spring, who wandered into a dark, terrible place, and ate of a cursed garden. hades, meanwhile, was cast as a shadowy, grasping seducer, looming from the darkness: here he stood, the god of riches, of gemstones and bones, of cold, dead things, who wanted to snatch a little bit of sunlight for himself.
and then came the second version of the story, when we were older, not so much a change in narrative as it was of perspective: we heard about zeus raping leta, we read the way medusa was cursed for being raped by poseidon, we read about athena’s jealousy when she was outwoven by arachne, about hera tossing little hephaestus down a cliff because he wasn’t as beautiful as a god ought to be.
once more, we considered hades: the youngest of the trinity, free of spite and hatred and fits of rage, running an empire greater than his brothers’ together, with little ego and quiet efficiency. a god who only took one wife, only loved once, and then too: wholly, completely.
like something not out of a horror movie, but perhaps, indeed, a fairytale.
then the third turn, when we had grown older, acquired a veneer of cynicism, suffered boys who never grew to men, when we realized that the only way our sexuality would not be annexed was if we conquered it ourselves.
then came kore, the woman of spring, who found in hades a quiet, dark refuge, away from demeter’s wrath and hungry possession, away from the squabbles of those tiresome, reckless gods. the girl who fell in love with darkness. the goddess whose spirit was of renewal and rebirth, and still flourished in the heart of the underworld, the duality of her nature only serving to highlight her strength.
hades remained as he ever was, unchanging, like death itself. but persephone grew, acquired facets and beauty in her change, spring given form in metaphor and mythology.
hades and persephone grew with us. that’s why they’re powerful. that’s why they’re loved.
i love this analysis. i think it’s a really insightful view that made me fall in love with the view all over again. tahnk you!
hades is the oldest, for the record
By: Katerina
Vincent van Gogh - "Wheatfield under Thunderclouds" (1890)
some of my favourite bookshops in the uk ♡
Å in Lofoten. A place that feels like the very end of the world.
🕷️ Halloween Fashion: Robert Wun Fall 2024 Haute Couture Collection 🕷️
Photos from The Last Book by Reinier Gerritsen, who spent 13 weeks over 3 years scouring the subway system of New York City for riders reading books.
[on the verge of having a complete breakdown] i need to make some kind of list or perhaps sort things into categories
paintings of me trying to get out of bed in the morning
"what's your dream job??" Uhh to have 17 weird little hobbies that I don't have to be good at and hang out with friends. I get money via being the world's specialist little princess
Taryn Knight
What she says: im fine
What she means: the average age of conception over the past 250k years is apparently 26.9. Let's round it down to 25. Think of your birth mother. Hold her hand. Imagine her holding hands with her mother. Within 4 people, you're back in time 100 years, and it's an intimate family dinner. Just after WWI. Add another 16 people, a small party of 20, and you're in the 1500s. Double it, twice, and you're at 80 people. Your family would fill a restaurant, and you're at the height of the Roman empire. At 100 people, Confucius is alive but Socrates has not yet been born. 100 people. That's a medium sized wedding. A small lecture theatre or concert. 200 people, probably the biggest party i could ever hope to host, takes you back 5000 years. The guests at your soirée of parents would be contemporaries of the Egyptian and Indus Valley civilisations, although you'd probably be too busy fixing drinks and nibbles to talk to all of them. Just imagine it. 200 of you. That's all it takes to get back 5,000 years. And we could go further. 1000 people, a decent sized concert, a large high school, and we're at the end of the last ice age. Your ancestors are comparing their pink floyd vinyl with music played on instruments carved from wood or bones of long vanished species. Wander through the crowd. See your own features and phrases and gestures refract out like a kaleidoscope. What would they make of you? What do you make of them? Why does it feel so unfair that even that first 100 years --that small family dinner of four--is out of your grasp? Maybe it's because questions of spatial distance have become negligible to us now. why, oh why, does time hold out against us so stubbornly
Elizabeth Debicki at the final season LA premiere of The Crown