#a river dies of thirst

[metamorphesque]

Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst

#mahmoud darwish #yearning #poetry #poems #literature #quotes #a river dies of thirst #dark academia #romantic academia #classic literature #dark academia aesthetics #light academia #poem

[soracities]

I walk lightly so as not to crush my cheerfulness. I walk heavily so as not to fly.

Mahmoud Darwish, from “From now on you are you,” A River Dies of Thirst (trans. Catherine Cobham)

#q #lit #quotes #poetry #mahmoud darwish #a river dies of thirst #from now on you are you #palestinian lit #fragments of selfhood #reading #m #x

[astereaus]

Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst

#mahmoud darwish #a river dies of thirst #arabic poetry #arabic literature #june #i have been in mourning for months #1k #2k

[introverted-astrophile]

#mahmoud darwish #A river dies of thirst #Live your life in warm yellows

[wonderness]

I walk aimlessly, not looking for anything, not even for myself in all this light.

Mahmoud Darwish, from “From now on you are you,” in A River Dies of Thirst

#mahmoud darwish #poetry #a river dies of thirst #poets of color

[lovetown]

Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst

Cecilia Meireles, Retrato [t: “(…) - In which mirror did my face get lost?”]

#something about these two. #meireles in our native portuguese because yes #cecilia meireles #mahmoud darwish #a river dies of thirst

[mrsblueness]

Life to the last drop If someone said to me again: ‘Supposing you were to die tomorrow, what would you do?’ I wouldn’t need any time to reply. If I felt drowsy, I would sleep. If I was thirsty, I would drink. If I was writing, I might like what I was writing and ignore the question. If I was having lunch, I would add a little mustard and pepper to the slice of grilled meat. If I was shaving, I might cut my earlobe. If I was kissing my girlfriend, I would devour her lips as if they were figs. If I was reading, I would skip a few pages. If I was peeling an onion, I would shed a few tears. If I was walking, I would continue walking at a slower pace. If I existed, as I do now, then I wouldn’t think about not existing. If I didn’t exist, then the question wouldn’t bother me. If I was listening to Mozart, I would already be close to the realms of the angels. If I was asleep, I would carry on sleeping and dream blissfully of gardenias. If I was laughing, I would cut my laughter by half out of respect for the information. What else could I do, even if I was braver than an idiot and stronger than Hercules?

#Mahmoud Darwish #A River Dies of Thirst #booklr #poetry #written

[hieuchels]

“Và tôi ngắm nhìn trong khi sự vắng mặt của em tích tụ trên đầu tôi như một đám mây nặng trĩu.”

— Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst

#love quotes #mahmoud darwish #a river dies of thirst #trích dẫn sách #book quotes #book #love #dailyquotes #trích dẫn #literature

[flowerytale]

Mahmoud Darwish, from "A Metaphor", A River Dies of Thirst: Journals (tr. by Catherine Cobham)

#mahmoud darwish #a river dies of thirst: journals #lit #literature #poetry #palestinian literature #palestinian poetry #*

[diejager]

The writing where reader died, what happens if they were revived as a wraith like Ghost? There's probs going to have a lot of fluff and a small angst here and there. But I mostly wanna read your writings!! It's cus' I can't get enough, and kept rereading it all the time

Cw: pain, death, turning, cannibalism, implied torture, implied blood and gore, angst, fluff, hunger, tell me if I missed any. We’re going to forget how you previously died, cuz @bluegiragi gave us more info about wraiths and I just love where the comic is going.

What a cruel joke, irony hitting him in the face the same way his abrupt shift hurt him, an apathetic slap to the face that left him bloody and in shock the way he left Roba on his dying breath. Simon didn’t know what was crueler, the knowledge that you were tortured and buried alive, left to die alone for the sins of his own making and the wrath of another, or that you were left to die a slow and excruciating death after being beaten half to death, expected to lose your resolve solely on the fact that you were a medic, and turned into the monster he was.

Neither your captor nor death had been merciful, much less the reaper, a collector of wandering souls and lost ghosts, waiting their turn to cross the river with a small token for the afterlife. Be it Hermes, the messenger and the carrier of souls, Thanatos the reaper and collector, Anubis - or Inpu, however people called him - the guide, Ankou the shadow, Sgàthach the warrior, or Freyja and Fólkvangr; you weren’t granted the soft embrace of a calm death, but the cruel rejection of it, forced back into life and abandoned by sweet sleep.

He remembered his own, the painful pull of his back, the crazed smoke that filled his mind with a thirst for blood and revenge, the crack and ugly break of his bode, reshaping his body and organs dyed dark, dying and pained. He remembered well the pain of it like it was yesterday, having to crawl out of the shallow grave on his own and discover the carnage he left behind, stained in his and Price’s blood. He was reborn.

And so were you, crying and sobbing, your skin scarred beyond thinking and mind in shambles of broken faith and abandoned affection. He knew first hand how it felt, the burn and agony of it, the hunger and ache that plagued you like an undying pestilence, darker than the one that ripped through Europe in the fourteenth century and more devastating than the Justinian’s. He’d been too late, too slow to help you through the first ripple of shock and fear once you’d quenched your thirst, staunching it like you would a wound. He let you fester in your sorrow and hunger, left you without a guide or caretaker until you ravaged the area, leaving only blood and rubble in your devastation. 

But he’s here now, picking you up from the mess you found yourself in, a storm of smoke and thick black that you hid yourself in, to hide the monster you had become. He might not be proud of who he’s become - much like you - but he grew into it, lived his life as one, and he would be here to help you through the process of it. Where he wished he had a helping hand, you would have his. He would help you with your hunger, the famine that grew the more you left it alone, filling your being with bodies he’d gather up for you to absorb. He would teach you how to control the smoke - the sinews of your being, the consistence of it forming your figure - and build from it, stopping yourself from phasing to and from it, staying as a physical manifestation of it rather than darkness itself. 

Where he felt lost and confused, alone and wishing for a swift end, you wouldn’t, he made sure to stay, to be the pillar of support for you whenever you crashed, his body covering yours to stop you from vanishing in a fit of tears. Where he spent time hating himself, demeaning the cannibalism he became, you wouldn’t, he’d rather send himself to hell than let you think you were the lowest of the low, a human eating another. And where he was cruel to himself when death had renounced him, you wouldn’t, he’d whisper the sweetest words, praises, compliments, affection and guidance, he would make sure you wouldn’t drown alone like he did years ago. He loved you too much to let that happen.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #monster 141 au #monster cod au #monster 141 #wraith!reader #tw death #ansgt #fluff #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #tw: torture

[trans-cuchulainn]

#medieval irish #irish mythology #tain bo cuailnge #toruigheacht gruaidhe griansholus #i don't think i can even remember all the tags for this #togail bruidne da derga #i should make a tag for my medieval polls #medieval polls

[metamorphesque]

Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst

#mahmoud darwish #quotes #literature #poetry #a river dies of thirst #poems #classic literature #romantic academia #light academia #dark academia #dark academia aesthetics #poem

[llovelymoonn]

on june

emily dickinson complete poems of emily dickinson: “all these my banners be” (via @soracities​) \\ annette wynne why was june made? \\ pablo neruda one hundred sonnets \\ virginia woolf the waves \\ l.m. montgomery anne of the island (via @metamorphesque​) \\ sylvia plath the unabridged journals of sylvia plath, 1950-1962 \\ mahmoud darwish a river dies of thirst \\ emily dickinson complete poems of emily dickinson: “ourselves were wed one summer--dear--” (via @soracities​) \\ philip larking cut grass \\ morgan parker magical negro: “the black saint & the sinner lady & the dead & the truth”

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#on june #june has come out of nowhere #i'm going into winter i wish i was going into summer with the rest of you #june #mine #my webweaving #webweaving #web weaving #webweave #web weave #web #webs #ww #parallel #parallels #parallelism #compilation #compilations #intertext #intertextuality #comparative #comparatives #emily dickinson #complete poems of emily dickinson #all these my banners be #annette wynne #why was june made? #why was june made #pablo neruda #one hundred sonnets

[astereaus]

"when july comes, jasmine carries me to a street leading nowhere. but i still sing my song - jasmine on a night in july."

Mahmoud Darwish, A River Dies of Thirst

#mahmoud darwish #a river dies of thirst #july #jasmines #arabic love poems #arabic love poetry #arabic poetry #arabic literature #literature #dark academia aesthetic #poetry #dark academia quotes #dark academia #english lit #classical academia #classical literature #romanticism #quotes #i have been in mourning for months #at night the jasmine weeps

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO SATORU x FEM READER

“What I want from the river is what I always want: / to be held by a stronger thing that, in the end, chooses mercy.”

wc — 1.5k

tags — quote from Advantages of Being Evergreen by Oliver Baez Bendorf, title from the Louvre by Lorde, feral Gojo, kidnapping, NPC death

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” Gojo asks as you’re lying in bed, whispering to each other before you fall asleep as you often do. It’s a strange question, but not worse than other ones he’s asked before.

“I’m not sure…once I helped Shoko steal cigarettes from the local konbini because she wanted to try the delinquent life, but I left money behind when she wasn’t looking.”

He laughs so hard tears pop into his eyes, probably more at you than with you, but you don’t care. You’re as gone for him as he is for you, and that means humiliating yourself for a chance to hear him laugh is an honor you’d accept over and over.

“What about you?”

“You don’t want to know,” he says, hand rubbing your stomach lightly. He can’t help the urge to touch when he sees your pajama shirt ride up. It makes you squirm, his long pale fingers stroking over the tender skin.

He likes it. Something about seeing you belly up - vulnerable, trusting, ready to be plundered - speaks to the worst instincts in him. He never pretended to be a good man.

“No, seriously,” he shakes his head when you pout. You’re a little annoyed by the unfairness of it, after all, you had shared yours with him. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. You really don’t want to know, especially before you fall asleep.”

You’ve never really thought about it before, but Gojo is a bit of a monster, isn’t he?

“Hey,” someone taps your head lightly. “Keep her awake.”

“Is she fucking dying? Hello? Are you dying?”

It makes sense for them to ask. Your eyes keep fluttering shut, but you’re not dying. You were just reminiscing on the past.

“Idiot!” There’s a yelp from somewhere in the room. “I told you not to hit her so hard!”

“I thought she could take it! That’s Gojo Satoru’s girl!”

That hurts more than any of your injuries. How embarrassing, to be caught off guard. When Gojo rescues you, he’s going to make fun of how easily you let yourself get captured.

“Is he coming soon?”

“Why, you scared?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m scared! It’s Gojo Satoru!”

“Good,” comes a familiar voice. “You should be.”

You open your eyes. Gojo looks like Gojo, which is to say-

Impeccable. Mischievous. Divine.

A smile flickers across your face even in your condition.

“Took you long enough,” you croak.

“Don’t move!” One of your guards is holding a knife to your neck. If you had the energy to, you’d sigh at the naïveté. “I’ll kill her!”

In the blink of an eye, Gojo’s by his side. He wrenches his hand off you with nothing but brute force, without even using a technique. You take the dropped knife and plunge it into the man. It’s only right to return the favor. Even that one movement takes so much out of you. You’re shaky on your feet.

“You’re stronger than this,” Gojo chides even as he pulls you into him, supporting your weight. You slide forward limply, letting your chin hook over his shoulder. He hoists you up with one arm to carry you.

You know he won’t hear any excuses. When you’re back on campus and fully recovered, it’s going to be hours of training before he lets you go on another mission on your own again, regardless of the fact that you were set up.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs into your ear. “I’m going to take care of the rest.”

Then the screaming starts. It dies as quickly as it began. You peek up at him. The look in his eyes is terrifying. He doesn’t look all human - or all there. There’s a thirst for blood in him, a debt to be paid.

“Is it over?”

“Almost, sweetheart. Just give me a minute.”

“Please,” you hear someone begging. You think it’s the man who confessed to being scared. It’s so like Gojo to save him for last. Those who know their own place should be rewarded, after all.

“I have a message for Suguru,” Gojo says casually. The guard relaxes a little in his hold. He knows that means he’s getting home. “Tell him he doesn’t need to hurt her to get my attention.”

The guard starts to open his mouth, and then Gojo tightens his grip. “I changed my mind.”

He’s dead before a second has passed.

You don’t remember getting back to campus, but you remember Shoko giving you a Hello Kitty band-aid after she patches you up.

“Just got them,” she says, rattling the little can. “Satoru dropped them off. Says he wants me to use them on Megumi. I don’t have any stickers, so this is all you’re going to get from me.”

She pats your back when you hug her.

“Okay, okay,” she says with a laugh. “I get it, I’m amazing. Satoru wants to see you when you’re done, by the way. Think he’s hanging around the training yard.”

You give her a pained look. “Please, no.”

“Oh yes,” she says cheekily.

When you get there, Gojo is pacing the training grounds like a chained animal. His head snaps up when he sees you. Relief spreads over his face before he whisks it away.

“Good, good,” he nods. “There you are. I was starting to think Shoko was losing her touch.”

“I was just making conversation,” you say, walking over to him. “Some of us are polite, you know.”

“I’m polite.”

“You’re so cute when you’re delusional,” you say, leaning forward to give him a peck on the nose.

He scrunches his nose up, never quite sure how to respond to your overt affection before he just takes it.

“You can call me names after you beat me once,” he says, hefting a wooden staff in hands. He tosses you another one.

“Did you steal these from Maki?”

“Don’t try to distract me,” he scolds. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Come on,” you wheedle. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I must not have trained you well enough if you’re getting taken down that easily,” Gojo teases.

“Don’t play the all knowing teacher with me,” you say. “I’m not Megumi. I knew you when you were struggling with Infinity.”

“Three rounds,” he promises, “and we can get food after. Just give me three.”

You’re smarter than the cronies Gojo just annihilated for you. It’s because you know the cardinal rule of facing Gojo: never expect to win. All you’re trying for are one or two hits.

You give him the first one. Then, right when he’s in your space, you lunge forward, tapping your staff against his shoulder. It touches -

And he doesn’t flinch.

“Cheater! Turn off Infinity!”

“I never said I was turning it off,” he says, returning to his starting position. “I’m going to be serious now. Get ready.”

“Okay,” you laugh, and then you’re flat on your back. Gojo leans over you. He looks the same as he did during the earlier fight, his teeth bared. It’s the kind of expression that belongs on him, blood on his hands and eyes like that of a god.

You can’t stop staring, devouring the image of him even when it shakes something in you. As much as your animal instincts are cowering right now, telling you to roll over in submission, it feels strangely good. You know Gojo would never hurt you. To be caught in his grip like this, still knowing you’re safe despite being able to feel all of the power that thrums through him does something for you. Your breath catches.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought so.”

You blink at him, completely and utterly confused as to what he’s blathering about now. Sometimes the only way to deal with Gojo is just to let him run his course.

“I know it’s the first time you’ve seen me-“ he gestures vaguely in the air, which does nothing to clarify the matter for you, “but it doesn’t have to change anything. Just forget it happened, and I’ll tone it down. You’ll never see me like that again.”

“Babe,” you say, patiently in a tone you usually only reserve for the students. “What are you talking about?”

“I know I went a little harder than I normally do on those curse users, but I was just worried about you! I’m not normally like that-“

Lies. He totally is, and you know it. It makes you laugh at him.

He grabs you by the chin, his big palm covering your mouth in an attempt to shut you up. You know it annoys him a little, to see you so lighthearted when he’s so tense. Must be hard to get a dose of his own medicine.

“Oh, Gojo,” you say, unbearably fond even through a mouthful of his flesh. “I’m not scared of you - I’m scared of how much I want you, even at your worst. I’ll never look away from what you are.”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Good.”

“Good?”

“I like the part of you that needs me,” he says, and it’s more of a confession than anything he’s ever given you.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

[honeyandelixir]

Mahmoud Darwish

A River Dies of Thirst

#lit #Mahmoud Darwish #music #falasteen #<3 #flowers