Latest Posts by rainbows-cat - Page 6

Our blessed medialuna vs their barbarous croissant

whenever i say “screaming crying throwing up” this is what i mean

Yarrow and Feverfew

Art trade with the incredible @liscepu, I'm so grateful for the chance! Thank you for fueling my love for the game again <3

look at my doctors dawg im gonna die

“you have no idea what loss is.” ~ Joel

“everyone i have cared for has either died or left me… everyone fucking except for you.” ~ Ellie

okay joel, she gets it. she gets what loss is now. stop being a silly goose and get up. jokes over. 😀

Today I give you cowboy lesbians,, tomorrow,,, i will give you more cowboy lesbians

in middle school during my Intense Greek Mythology Phase, Artemis was, as you can likely guess, my best girl. Iphigenia was my OTHER best girl. Yes at the same time.

The story of Iphigenia always gets to me when it's not presented as a story of Artemis being capricious and having arbitrary rules about where you can and can't hunt, but instead, making a point about war.

Artemis was, among other things--patron of hunting, wild places, the moon, singlehood--the protector of young girls. That's a really important aspect she was worshipped as: she protected girls and young women. But she was the one who demanded Agamemnon sacrifice his daughter in order for his fleet to be able to sail on for Troy.

There's no contradiction, though, when it's framed as, Artemis making Agamemnon face what he’s doing to the women and children of Troy. His children are not in danger. His son will not be thrown off the ramparts, his daughters will not be taken captive as sex slaves and dragged off to foreign lands, his wife will not have to watch her husband and brothers and children killed. Yet this is what he’s sailing off to Troy to inevitably do. That’s what happens in war. He’s going to go kill other people’s daughters; can he stand to do that to his own? As long as the answer is no—he can kill other people’s children, but not his own—he can’t sail off to war.

Which casts Artemis is a fascinating light, compared to the other gods of the Trojan War. The Trojan War is really a squabble of pride and insults within the Olympian family; Eris decided to cause problems on purpose, leaving Aphrodite smug and Hera and Athena snubbed, and all of this was kinda Zeus’s fault in the first place for not being able to keep it in his pants. And out of this fight mortal men were their game pieces and mortal cities their prizes in restoring their pride. And if hundreds of people die and hundred more lives are ruined, well, that’s what happens when gods fight. Mortals pay the price for gods’ whims and the gods move on in time and the mortals don’t and that’s how it is.

And women especially—Zeus wanted Leda, so he took her. Paris wanted Helen, so he took her. There’s a reason “the Trojan women” even since ancient times were the emblems of victims of a war they never wanted, never asked for, and never had a say in choosing, but was brought down on their heads anyway.

Artemis, in the way of gods, is still acting through human proxies. But it seems notable to me to cast her as the one god to look at the destruction the war is about to wreak on people, and challenge Agamemnon: are you ready to kill innocents? Kill children? Destroy families, leave grieving wives and mothers? Are you? Prove it.

It reminds me of that idea about nuclear codes, the concept of implanting the key in the heart of one of the Oval Office staffers who holds the briefcase, so the president would have to stab a man with a knife to get the key to launch the nukes. “That’s horrible!,” it’s said the response was. “If he had to do that, he might never press the button!” And it’s interesting to see Artemis offering Agamemnon the same choice. You want to burn Troy? Kill your own daughter first. Show me you understand what it means that you’re about to do.

SAHLO FOLINA

Happy Easter

why do i gotta get involved lmao 😭💀

the way we have to literally invade the privacy of familial disputes in this game is kinda wild ngl

reading the Iliad. kind of sad how Odysseus keeps identifying himself as "Telemachus's father." Like it's always on his mind. his loved ones, his home. he never got to see his son grow up but he's already desperately proud of him.

'We gotta stop meeting like this...'

quería escribir algo emocionante e informativo sobre el 24M pero solo quiero decir: váyanse a la mierda los estadounidenses, los militares, La Libertad avanza y todo el que apoye/niegue la última dictadura en Argentina. #NuncaMas.

Fuente: El Gato y La Caja (IG: elgatoylacaja)

*mafia don* ive got this whole freakin' city under my thumb. i can have any two men kissing each other in under 15 minutes

all of the seasoned stardew valley players starting a fresh, year 1 farm today for the 1.6 upgrade

Someone today will read Shakespeare’s hamlet and say omg he’s just like me fr. Another person will read moby dick and proclaim Ishmael as an adhd king.

A person grieving for their recently deceased lover reads the iliad and they watch as Achilles rages and rages and god how righteous anger fueld by love is so devastating that it’s ramifications still affect the world several thousand years later.

We might one day settle down and read the epic of gilgamesh and watch as a king has to accept the death of the person he loved the most. One of the very first stories ever written and it was about coping with death, and how to grieve.

We don’t read classics because they’re old, we read them because they remind us that we are never alone. That a character created over 500 years ago struggled with the exact same problems we all still have today. That even a king from centuries past had to deal with death just like me. That’s what makes stories so powerful–they prove to us that we are never truly alone in what we are feeling.

You stand above your brother in his bed, occupied now by more than just pillows and blankets, for the woman at his back is fair and terrifying, even in sleep. You look between them, and you stand above your brother and think -

Is it too late to kill him now?

There are no ships on the horizon - yet - and if you present a body along with the stolen wife when the husband turns up, will that break the omen your mother dreamed?

Is it too late to kill him now?

You drop your hand down - perhaps to close around his throat, another already clutching one of those many, many pillows, and in the dark it'd be easy, wouldn't it? All you do is caress his cheek, your fingers digging stiffly into the pillow. He exhales, a tender shallow ease of breath, and there is this little smile on his lips.

You stand above your brother in his bed, there are ships on the shore, and you have cursed him for a plague, a bane, a cruelty raised by the Olympian to bring your house down, and -

it's too late to kill him now.

It'd be easy to do it, however. You carry a dagger at your belt even now, having left your own bed. Or you could perhaps stir up one of your other brothers, the city, some of your father's council. The baby was almost killed once, after all; what would it matter if it was realized now? Kin-blood believed to have been spilled is surely no less polluting than it being done in reality. The attempt might only have been in the handing over of a fragile infant into another's hands, handed over into the bosom of a mountain, wild and no place for such a tender little being.

But the mountain had been merciful, and nurtured instead of torn asunder, and now you're standing above your brother in his bed.

It's too late to kill him now, but would anyone blame you, blame anyone at all they might suspect, as much as they hate him, a hatred unsaid? Simmering. You don't know how he walks through the palace, the city, his life and not cower from the knowledge; he can't not know.

Your brother - pretty, soft, laughing, shining - doomed and dooming all of you from the start. What does an infant know of causing death? Your father tried to kill an innocent. Some of your brothers attempted it next, an innocent only wishing to reclaim what he thought belonged to him and them not knowing who the slave they felt so insulted by was.

Perhaps it's only fair he will kill you all, merely by existing, by batting those ridiculous lashes to lure the woman still sleeping at his back out of her home, her marriage, her life, and into yours.

You stand above your brother in his bed, and brush your knuckles down his cheek.

It's too late to kill him now, and no matter that you've cursed him and wished him dead - to his face, to your parents' faces, but never to anyone else's - with every angry word to spit at him there's always this echo of the wide, wide eyes, the trembling hand in yours as you help him up from kneeling next to the altar in your head.

Your little brother, that you failed to protect when he was born. And what are you if you don't protect? It's too late to kill him now, anyway. Was always too late.

You meet the gleaming whites of Helen's gaze in the darkness, watching her smooth her grip on your brother's arm into a stroke. Both of you can feel the relief staining the air as you turn away, pretending like she wasn't ready to help you.

You leave your brother in his bed.

the destruction of knowledge and culture

the universal college experience, no matter your major, is learning how remarkably fucked everything is. except business majors theyre having a great time learning to do basic arithmetic and and staring at that one supply and demand graph where the line goes up

Holis, vi la foto de Santos con la bandera y te empecé a seguir inmediatamente 🇦🇷

Bajajajaja amooo, entre gordxs simuleros nos reconocemos 🤝🏻

When you engage in discourse denial of the treatment of trans people in Hitler's Germany and lose George Takei.

I don't care what official translations say, I chose to believe "Et tu, Brute?" translates to "What the FUCK, Brutus?"

"have you learned how to drive yet" i have the spirit of friendship in my heart. the joy of lifes little things in my soul. the whimsy of magic. the beautiful enjoyment of nature. the answer is no though