Lottie360 - Random Stuff I Like

“There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.”

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Oscar Wilde

I always preferred the company of the dead. You try complaining about your life, surrounded by their wailing. Call it perspective.  And the living, well, they can’t look at me for too long, without dissolving into their most basic parts, only good for my cousin’s touch. Nobody likes looking at their own mortality. Everybody wants to die a hero. They don’t want to meet me with my howling dogs and lingering nature and blank eyes. I’m not unkind, no matter what the other Deaths say. I allow lingering goodbyes, lovers to meet again, scores to be settled. Just ask Patroclus, his hands fading  as he watched his lover weep.

Melinoe (a.v.p)

Requested! Mountain goat + Books + Bisexual (plus Doll Skin)

If you tell a boy whose hair is curly and wild and who dresses in faded holey t-shirts that smell like worn cotton and home that he should comb his hair down for you and dress up nicer for you, then you are slowly killing him and replacing him with what you think he should have to be…for you. Do me a favor. Dont. This world needs more boys with wild hair and worn cotton shirts and if you cant appreciate him, let him go, because he does not need to be told that his comfort and style is wrong. He should be loved by someone who thinks that wild hair is beautiful, and that he is stunning in a suit or worn cotton or nothing at all, because that is what love is. Healthy love is accepting them as they came, with all their flaws and problems and quirks. You should not have to “fix” someone you love at all, if they are right for you, you will be able to grow together into better people. They might adapt around you as time goes on, and that is normal, growth and change is good and natural, but forcing change is brutal and mean. He deserves to be loved just the way he came to you, because someone thinks he is beautiful, and if you can’t do that, let him love someone who will.

Thoughts of things  (via burtonbutton)

everyone should read this

(via lottie360)

The world burned while Atlas watched (no, that isn’t right) Atlas died screaming, trying to save those he’d watched over Aphrodite is about romantic love (no, that isn’t right) Love comes in many forms but it always leaves a mark - Aphrodite Artemis fell in love once (no, that isn’t right) Artemis loved the maidens she raised, the trees, she loved all who tried Peresphone was manipulated by the King of Underworld (no, that isn’t right) Peresphone chose power, chose love, chose freedom, she chose Achilles was golden (No, that isn’t right) Achilles was rusted, bruised and bloody. He was in love

The Myths Are Wrong by Abby S (via fireandsteelofangels)

Time passes you by...

Slowly and all at once as vivid as the shining amber lights on the wet concrete at night.

Walking on that burnt orange stone, home, home.

I look to the past and it's forgotten.

I'm standing outside in the driving rain, it ushers me away.

Pressed up to the window panes, fogging up sodden glass.

Looking at a stranger's past.

That little room with its sandy paint and coffee curtains.

Lights snapped on and Nora Jones sings out of the stereo.

It's soft and milky.

Clouding and brewing softly.

Time.

Past is present and present is future.

And it's all already passed me by.

I flip through shining photos and those familiar faces smile at the ghosts behind the long, lost cameras.

Choppy hair and sharply slit winds softened by a flash decades ago.

Moments so dear, a sun so golden, people lost to ticking clocks, they forgot long ago.

And they kept it all down.

Those shining cards with their little people.

The faces you see in the warm ripples of a bath.

No malice, just ghosts.

Ghosts of happy days and burnt orange stones.

Do you remember their names?

Did they ever learn mine?

I walk and I know I'm already gone.

Just a face in a photo.

I stand faded in smooth cards on Christmases and birthday nights in orange lights.

Smiling and laughing.

Running on tiles, on wood, on carpet, sand and stone.

I stand young and small.

I doubt I could even tell you why these photos exist now.

But they did.

Those people breathed that long lost air and time thawed once the flash faded.

We carry on.

Until the next photo's taken

The gods have always been there. Apollo pops down to say hello and gloat and flirt with some random mortal. Athena comes down to chat and argue with the scholars and those too poor to get into school but still smart enough to rig running water to their houses. Persephone will make your garden overflow with crops and flowers if you leave a dog bone for Cerberus on your doorstep. Dionysus makes fun of the European Jesus and turns teenagers water to wine if you plant grape vines outside your window and leave water on the windowsill. Artemis will come down and hunt, looking for excuses to fight and grapple. If you leave out a peacock corsage for Hera the day before your wedding she’ll bless it and Hestia will provide your feast.

The gods have always been there, but they have not always been kind.

Women cut their hair jagged and run their eyeliner so that Zeus won’t find them attractive. People have to throw offerings into the sea before entering and women don’t wear revealing outfits for fear of attracting Poseidon’s attention. Hera will send Artemis to kill any man who she thinks is unsuited for his wife. Apollo can’t stand a one night fling. 

The gods have always been there, but they have not always been kind.

The excavation of the ancient city of Ur led by archeologist C. Leonard Woolley in Tell al-Muqayyar, Iraq, 1934 [859x611]