G O L D E N . @underwoodinsp - Tumblr Blog

tylerposey

dailymarvel

suckrpnch

sorry if it seems like i want attention i just want attention

kpfun

GREEK GODS & GODDESSES.

HARRY GOT : HERMES.

Hermes is considered a god of transitions and boundaries. He is described as quick and cunning, moving freely between the worlds of the mortal and divine. He is also portrayed as an emissary and messenger of the gods; an intercessor between mortals and the divine, and conductor of souls into the afterlife. He has been viewed as the protector and patron of herdsmen, thieves, oratory and wit, literature and poetry, athletics and sports, invention and trade, roads, boundaries and travelers.

#insp

era aesthetics *!

BOLD all that apply!

MEDIEVAL: tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards.dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

RENAISSANCE: freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.

BAROQUE: dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colourless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

CLASSICAL: chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair.watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

ROMANTIC: compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

#insp

classicslesbianopinions

i like to commit random acts of hubris. just pepper them throughout my life. someday a god is going to smite me and i’m ready for it

skvoreshniki-deactivated2023020

Should have been born that 19th century dandy boy who's doing opium and trips to Italy just to look aesthetic with extensive debauchery set against masterpieces of marble

dvkev-alentino

He had everything. Riches, glory, power. What he lacked? Κάλλος. In other words: Art. Beauty. In other words: Everything.

Menelaos Lountemis, Daedalus (via kvngslayer)

violentwavesofemotion-deactivat

“My soul imbibed a honeyed beverage.”

— Meleager, tr. by Peter Whigham, from The Greek Anthology; “Epigrams,”

sample starter

He’d just woken up. This much was obvious.

It was lucky that he knew the route from home to coffee as well as he did, stumbling along like a fawn in a concrete wood, eyes rubbed with the back of tired hands and chapped lips stretched into a permanent yawn. His hair was tousled, shirt lazy and haphazard in the way that it draped over broad, princely shoulders; he looked quite as if he’d rolled from the pages of an ad for expensive sleepwear - and perhaps he had. He was a sleepy piece of sunlight, dancing from one curb to the other, pushing through the tinkling front door of the cafe which seemed to have not changed in the slightest since his most recent habitual departure; even on the brink of sleep, Harry was ever alight with smile and charm, no matter the sleepy quality of his particular brand of habitual flirtation.

Coffee in hand, he plopped at the first open seat he came to; it hardly occurred to him to find an unoccupied table, for by this time of day, it was quite full, quite busy. And besides, there was nothing like a little good conversation to rouse him from his sleep - and his hangover, if the rushing of his head in the descent into the chair was any indication. With a groan, he let his coffee mug settle on the table before him, head falling to the heels of his hands as he squeezed his eyes shut. Nose scrunched, lips pursed, Harry felt the room swim about him; he’d had worse, but dramatics were always warranted.

“Tell me a joke,” he commanded, though the sleepy quality of his voice made him sound rather like an overgrown child asking for a bedtime story. He waved his hand indiscriminately at the body opposite him - for he’d not taken the time to discern just who it was he’d decided to spend his morning with - as if to prod them forth: “A good one.” Surely that would be the hangover cure to end them all.

Hopefully.

#sample starter #mine #* creations