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copper my beloved

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copper my beloved

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Genderbent modern au

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Now I just gotta find the hair girl

The passing process once again!

✨🌟✨Happy new year!!✨🌟✨

Best wishes and all the success possible for all of you for 2025!!

You got this!

(and yes 5 look at them so .... backward style haha)

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A group of rough looking boys walked past me today and all I heard of their conversation was “he’s got that anxiety disorder bro so I went with him so he’d be more comfortable” and it made me realise the world isn’t all that bad

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M-miss nami sir...

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new year new mountain goats

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Me to my ocs: I love you so much, you are everything to me

Also me: *puts them in the blender*

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odysseus actually saying the word rape in the song freed me of all the discomfort hold them down made me feel

idk why but it's just so. sexual assault has always been something that should have clear boundaries - and instead, you see the people in power, people who should punish and uphold the law, shift around definitions and wordplay.

as if it isn't a disgusting violation of a person, of their life, of their trust.

metaphors are beautiful, they're my favourite figure of speech. but metaphors, skirting around the topic, when it comes to rape, is what, to me, truly makes that feeling of disgust and discomfort, and yes, even panic, rise.

because the truth is? i know there are people who can excuse and disregard "taking her love and more". not consider it rape. not consider it assault. there are, unfortunately, people who can disregard a metaphor this clear. justify it, even.

but most of those people can't justify the word rape.

I dont know if this makes sense. forgive me if it doesn't. but to me, the intense nausea that hold them down brought about was erased and hell, even comforted, by the rage and protectiveness and bluntness of that one line in odysseus.

jay did a fucking fantastic job.

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I’m not ok :]

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damn we got 2022 tomorrow

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Odysseus: "Mercy? Mercy!? My mercy has long since drowned, it died to bring me home, and as long as you're around, my family's fate is left unknown-"

Odysseus 15 minutes later: "Penelope would you still love me if I was a worm?🥺👉🏻👈🏻"

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Odysseus, full of worry his wife won’t love him after learning what he did: I slayed a bunch of men and monsters without mercy to get home to you

Penelope, his wife, who is from Sparta, kicking her feet and twirling her hair: My love we’re already married, you don’t have to propose again

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imagine you are a maid who works for ithaca's royalty. you're not, like, always the most up to date on gossip, because you have things to do and knowing what date the king and queen went on this week is not going to make the floors any less dirty. so, whatever. one thing even you know, though, is that the king is leaving for war. which sucks, probably, you've heard things about war, and also your cousin's part of the crew headed to troy and the queen looks like she's about to stab whoever tries to touch her so you really hope they stay safe and come back in one piece, for everyone else in the palace's sake at least. still, it doesn't change the fact that the floors need cleaning. so you get cleaning. and then you wake up one day with men in the palace. suitors, they call themselves. and you're like, okay, whatever, guests. except they never leave. they just. stay. day after day after week after month and then suddenly it's years, just hanging around. and, really, do none of them have jobs? goodness. and they have absolutely no respect for the workers of the palace, which is a bit frustrating because your back is hurting from how much extra cleaning you're doing for no discernable reason other than just because the suitors find some nonexistent dirt. still, whatever, it doesn't really matter to you, so you clean the floors and try your best to avoid running into any of them. you have things to do. the prince is cute, and he waddles around everywhere and gets his muddy little prints on everything but you feel nothing negative towards him because he's cute and tries to awkwardly make conversation. so you give him a smile and scrub the floors clean and go back to your room and fall asleep, exhausted. and years pass, and you age, and your hair starts graying and you wonder if maybe it's time to retire but the fearful and tired look in the younger girls' eyes makes you stay. you can't just - leave them. whatever. clean the floors. there's something to do with the queen and a shroud and lying, you're not entirely sure. your job is to clean floors and the queen is polite when you dart into her room occasionally, so. whatever. and then fifteen, eighteen, twenty years later - you're barely out of bed when one of the girls barrels into your room, screaming with excitement - the king is back. the king is back and he brings destruction in his wake. you hurry upstairs and you are greeted with a docked bow and a familiar face, now older and warier and more haggard, and you pause. he looks at you, and his eyes are - sharp, bright, focused, but also a bit unclear. like he's looking at one thing while also avoiding it. he blinks, once, and then looks away. a movement from the other side of the room - a suitor, you recognize, one who takes extra pleasure in watching the girls scrub the floor in front of him - and then there's an arrow lodged into his chest, followed by a scream of agony and then nothing. well. alright. you look around for a couple of moments, then turn back around and head to the kitchen, rooting around the storage cupboard for spare cloths. this whole return is well and good and there's probably political stuff happening here but, like, you don't really care. the king is cleaning house, and you should too. that's your job.

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I wonder if even after Odysseus returns, Telemachus still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights and goes to pace in front of his mother’s door. There’s light and loud talking and laughing and Telemachus grips his sword tightly, tense as he knows he can’t let anyone near.

The door opens and Telemachus jolts, turning to see a man standing in the doorway behind him. He lunges forward, but the man grabs his wrist and shoulder, disarming him and bringing him to the ground. He closes his eyes, bracing himself and feeling a burn in his throat. He failed. He can’t protect her. He-

Suddenly there are gentle hands on his face. A soothing voice replacing the cacophony that the prince realizes had never existed. He looks into his father’s eyes with shame, blinking back tears as the king gently takes him into his arms. Odysseus promises his son that he’s safe, brings him back to rest beside him and Penelope, and lets him have just a few hours of peace before it happens again.

Just thoughts.