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first day as a second century warlord i have my men tie branches to their horses’ tails to stir up dust and make it look like there’s a lot of us but i forget it just rained so there isn’t any dust and the enemy can clearly see there’s like twenty of us all spread out in a line

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the dubious philosophy of salmon

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THE HANDS OF THE EMPEROR by Victoria Goddard!!!! Please read this book, it is my new FAVORITE book, it is the best thing in the entire world and it has literally changed my life. 

It’s The Goblin Emperor (fealty, ethics, loyalty, the joy of serving a worthy and honorable lord), meets The West Wing (liberal politics, conversations in hallways, the long slow process of making the world better by increments, “Do you have a best friend? Is he smarter than you? Do  you trust him with your life? That’s your chief of staff.”), meets Moana (leaving home to follow the call of a powerful dream, returning home to bring back the dream and the fruits of your labor to your people, community and family, a solo journey across the sea mirrors an internal journey of personal identity).

Here’s the link to buy it on Amazon And here’s the link to buy the hardback on Bookshop.org (Note: You will see the $42 price tag and wince, but I will point out that it is 900 pages long, which is really like three books, and $42 is not a bad price at all for three books. Just a factor to consider!)

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horror but make it healing

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idk how to tell you that. like. gay historians exist and many of us actively research, write about, and engage with our own history, fragmented as it is. so all your hur-dur historians are homophobic because i think the iliad is historical record jokes not only...misunderstand an entire discipline but also undermine the contributions and existence of real-life gay people. funny how that works out, huh?

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MONUMENT TO DANTE (1865): Piazza Santa Croce, Florence, Italy.

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Oh there must be a hole in your memory

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honestly my favorite thing about hardison is that he has no real tragic backstory, he's just like "i am very smart and therefore i should be allowed to do crime" and he's entirely correct

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This is a series of travel illustrations based on a long trip all around the PNW. From Seattle, to Bellingham, to Vancouver B.C., to the redwoods, to the Oregon Coast – it’s all here.

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annihilation annihilation annihilation

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99% of all murders committed by women in ancient greek plays are completely justified

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drawing the winds; “The Witch of November”. This wind occurs when cool arctic air from the north & warm gulf air from the south combine to create hurricane gusts & large waves over the Great Lakes in autumn.

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i forgot to post this when i made it but take my quiz to find out which of my favourite historical figures you are (very important)

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so maybe i DO fantasise about being a rank and file foot soldier torn away from my humble life working on my family’s farm to fight for the rights of the common man against the tyrannies of king charles i and in the process catching the eye of my tall and handsome general who is forced by the constraints of rank to keep his distance but lowers his gaze as he rides past me with the wind catching his hair and the red sash bloodying his cuirasse brushing my shoulder whilst i clench my hands at my sides to avoid the temptation to reach out and later as we stand in line to face the king on the blasted field his eyes flick over to me as he gives orders and i clutch my musket in my gloved hands and listen for the call and when the battle is over and i am stumbling through the bodies i find him choking on his own blood amidst the churned earth and half-carry him back to the camp where i wait at his bedside with the sweat drying on my brow and my fingernails carving half-moons in my palms as the surgeons thread their needles and his heavy-lidded eyes hold mine just as they did on his white horse when the sun was high and the bold sash was the only memory of war’s stygian tongue and when the surgeons have cut and and carved and hewn i remain on the pretext of keeping watch over him as he sleeps and sit on a stool by his side with my hands carefully laid on the blankets and my eyes averted as i talk quietly and unthinkingly of a peaceful life on the edge of the moors with a few goats and an apple tree growing at the end of the garden and evenings by the fire with the brush of hard callouses and dark hair against the scarred and pitted map of my palms as in the background the ragged rasp of his breathing grows fainter and fainter and my hands lie like dead and silent things on the pale sheet as i watch the weak flutter of his pulse beneath the thin skin at his throat but that doesn’t make me

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@i-am-made-of-memoriies and I created an homage to The Mechanisms based on the lyrics to Leave Her, Johnny, Leave Her!

Melody by Arachne (Frankie) Violin and Harmonies by Vanya (Ashi) Lyrics by The Spectacles

Lyrics under the cut!

Keep reading

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- sing, o goddess, the rage of helen | by prithvi. p