Tag: Artemis

(i) aphrodite spends her nights stumbling out of bars the hands of unfamiliar men wrapped around her waist. she smells like hard liquor and cigarette smoke. when dusk turns to dawn she’s always the first to leave. always running. It’s better this way, safer this way she reasons.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             (ii) artemis traded in her bow and arrow for a gun. she still hunts she just hunts a different kind of prey now. she goes out at dusk and comes back home at dawn. bruised and bloody. a few bullets missing from her gun. somewhere buried deep in the body of a man who wore cruelty as if it were a second skin. who did not take no for an answer.
  
(iii) persephone first saw hades in a club. He was the kind of boy her mother had warned her about. Boys like that her mother had said are nothing but trouble. but persephone had never minded trouble very much. she walked up to him her lips painting a shade of pomegranate and asked if she could buy him a drink.

modern goddesses  (via bye1997)

sisterofiris:

Artemis is strength.

She is muscles aching and feet rough with calluses hitting the ground. She is nimble fingers pulling brambles off clothing despite the sting. She is deep breaths, hands clasping branches, toes curling around riverbed stones, glares that say I don’t care, I’m doing it anyway. She is the untamed. The primal.

The hidden.

She is dirt under fingernails, blood under bandages, lips pressed against each other in defiance. She is clenched teeth and swallowed tears. She is knees curled up against guts, heart and lungs to stifle their aching. She is masks of bark and twigs, carefully sewed to hide the pounding veins within. She is steps in the darkness, ears that make every rustle into a predator, and legs that go on anyway. She is survival. She is roots gripping the earth, rabbits venturing from their burrows despite the rain. She is not fearless. But she is stubborn.

She is an overturned stomach, sweaty palms and the echo of a voice that says I don’t care, I’m doing it anyway.

Artemis is quiet strength, like a deer darting out of sight.

athenastears:

Modern Mythology: Teenage African-American Artemis and Apollo

requested by parallelanprincess

“Apollo and Artemis were two twins born by the king of the gods Zeus and Leto, a daughter of the Titans Coeus and Phoebe… [Leto] gave birth to Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt. Artemis then acted as a midwife to her mother to bring her brother Apollo to the world. For this reason, she was declared as the new goddess of the childbirth, taking the place of Hera’s daughter Eilithyia.” (source)

sisterofiris:

Artemis is strength.

She is muscles aching and feet rough with calluses hitting the ground. She is nimble fingers pulling brambles off clothing despite the sting. She is deep breaths, hands clasping branches, toes curling around riverbed stones, glares that say I don’t care, I’m doing it anyway. She is the untamed. The primal.

The hidden.

She is dirt under fingernails, blood under bandages, lips pressed against each other in defiance. She is clenched teeth and swallowed tears. She is knees curled up against guts, heart and lungs to stifle their aching. She is masks of bark and twigs, carefully sewed to hide the pounding veins within. She is steps in the darkness, ears that make every rustle into a predator, and legs that go on anyway. She is survival. She is roots gripping the earth, rabbits venturing from their burrows despite the rain. She is not fearless. But she is stubborn.

She is an overturned stomach, sweaty palms and the echo of a voice that says I don’t care, I’m doing it anyway.

Artemis is quiet strength, like a deer darting out of sight.

lachantefleurie:

“Artemis was bathing in the woods when the hunter Actaeon stumbled across her, thus seeing her naked. He stopped and stared, amazed at her ravishing beauty. Once seen, Artemis got revenge on Actaeon: she forbade him speech — if he tried to speak, he would be changed into a stag — for the unlucky profanation of her virginity’s mystery. Upon hearing the call of his hunting party, he cried out to them and immediately was changed into a stag. At this he fled deep into the woods, and doing so he came upon a pond and, seeing his reflection, groaned. His own hounds then turned upon him and tore him to pieces, not recognizing him. In an endeavour to save himself, he raised his eyes (and would have raised his arms, had he had them) toward Mount Olympus.The gods did not heed his actions, and he was torn to pieces.”

– Me, when boys ask for nudes. 

winebrightruby:

Artemis clamps her thighs around the magnolia branch and flicks another pebble at the window. It rattles against the screen. She whistles bob, bob, bobwhite and tosses another stone. The window scrapes against the frame as it’s opened. Persephone leans out, sunlight calling umber highlights out of her curls.

“Why? Ah have a perfectly good door. Plenty a people use it. Ah know it works jus fine. An yet, here Missy sits, chunkin rocks at mah window like she’s never heard a doorbells. Why??”

Artemis beams up at her cousin from among the white flowers and glossy leaves. “I like the tree.”

Persephone huffs, but the corners of her mouth curl upward. “Bless yer heart. Flowers today, or the river? Ah need to know which shoes to wear.”

“Flowers,” comes the firm reply. “Bergamot and sweet alyssum and all the pretty things you can find out by Mammaw’s. Comin’ down?”

“Ah’ll meet you,” Persephone leans back out, both hands flying through her hair to tame her curls into braids, “at the door.”

–new myths, yay modernity, everything is true

In the new age, Artemis is a girl
who doesn’t believe in love.
Aims her arrows at the stars,
sees Orion in the night sky.
Drops her bow, doesn’t
pick it up again.

(The twenty-first century has no room
for warriors and huntresses and
goddesses who bleed silver,
if they bleed at all.)

In the new age, Apollo is a boy
who loves far too deeply.
Falls head over heels for
a girl wreathed in laurel.
Out there, in a big city
somewhere, Eros laughs.

(The twenty-first century has no space
for poets and musicians and
golden-hearted gods
left shining alone.)

In the new age, the twins
can’t find each other.
The forests are cut down and
the sun hides behind smoke.

On an island off the coast of Greece,
Leto weeps.

we built ourselves a dystopia | m.j. (via fairytalesques)

Fuck this just devoured me