Vicvaled - Virago

#implied autumnal sexy times

go find what a fic of ur life would be tagged as on ao3

Lago di Como. Italy

me, watching madame tracy tone down her look and change her aesthetic for shadwell & anathema burning 300 year old historic documents next to the guy she slept w bc of a prophecy: ladies they’re just not worth that!!!!!!

the fact that i’m not on a balcony in italy watching the sun set eating fresh fruit with my lover is offensive

my personal list of greek myth retellings that are actually good and do something interesting with the myth:

The King Must Die and The Bull from the Sea, Mary Renault

Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays, Christa Wolf

The Penelopiad, Margaret Atwood

The Lost Books of the Odyssey, Zachary Mason

Here the World Entire, Anwen Kya Hayward

Weight: The Myth of Atlas and Heracles, Jeanette Winterson

Achilles, Elizabeth Cook

Memorial: An Excavation of the Iliad, Alice Oswald

Averno, Louise Glück

Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson

Antigonick, Anne Carson

Oresteia, Robert Icke

Antigone, Jean Anouilh

Eurydice, Sarah Ruhl

Girl on an Altar, Marina Carr

Los Reyes, Julio Cortázar

Hadestown, Anaïs Mitchell

O Brother Where Art Thou, Coen Brothers

honorable mention to Ursula K. Le Guin's Lavinia which doesn't count on a technicality

Absolutely true

[seductively takes off glasses]

wow you’re fucking blurry

     Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight toward a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?

— THE GOLDFINCH, Donna Tartt.

girls don’t want boys girls want pretty hardcover editions of literary classics

gabriel: shut your stupid mouth and die already 🙃

crowley:

Sometimes you feel like editing percabeth 2.0