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thepinkcurator.bsky.social
artemisia
@thepinkcurator.bsky.social
150 followers 720 following 100 posts
artemisia
writer, artist, historian, nerd 💕
typing about france #amwriting
🇺🇸/🇫🇷
https://thepinkcurator.crd.co/
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thepinkcurator.bsky.social
oh my love of writing father/son scenes #wipsnips
“I’ve not always done right by you, Oste. But you have me. You do. I don’t always understand you, and I won’t, but I’m here.” Oste buried his head into his father’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to say.” “You don’t have to say anything. Lord knows I don’t say much, myself.” And so the two lingered there at the table with a bullet sitting on its surface. Oste let himself be rocked in an ageless embrace from a father he’d run from as much as he’d run into the arms of. That was their way. He assumed it would be until their bodies were dust. Different, and the same. Distant, and together. A son who wanted to be a better son. A father who wanted to be a better father. Neither of them knew what that meant.
November 16, 2025 at 2:47 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
draft 1 of book 2 has concluded! don’t worry oste doesn’t go to England #amwriting #amediting #historicalromance
November 15, 2025 at 4:04 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
every french swordfighting confraternity needs a friend group that is just too silly ⚔️🤷🏻‍♀️

#doctorandduelist #amediting
September 1, 2025 at 1:18 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
NO KITCHEN?!?!

combing through edits and ill never be able to match dorotèa’s freak
#amwriting #wip
August 12, 2025 at 11:54 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
the chance of encountering tj’s items you hear in @elliotphardman.bsky.social’s voice is low but never zero 🍎😎
June 21, 2025 at 5:53 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
feel in control, and the ultimate strong, rugged cowboy, whether playing as arthur, or as a male/female in multiplayer. do I think the devs had this in mind, front and center, consciously? no. but they fed into a common tradition that is interesting and amusing to see. +
June 12, 2025 at 12:48 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
mechs? why the horse balls, for the love of god? let it be known that I appreciate that they did, for the sake of lifelike horses. I see you, rockstar, and I appreciate you. and let it also be known that I'm sure there's some freudian undercurrent that I do not have the psychological background +
June 12, 2025 at 12:48 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
marcus looks unfazed, barely moving a muscle to guide the horse. and that's not all. on the opposite hand he is believed to have once held a globe along with the reins, symbolizing his hold over the classical world. the horse and the globe are one and the same in what they symbolize. +
June 12, 2025 at 12:48 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
and I'll bring up another similar example, in a well-known representation of the horse in art! marcus aurelius, anyone? even if you don't know this exact sculpture, it's a pretty common type/trope to see. how many times have we noticed military leaders on a big, spirited horse? many times. +
June 12, 2025 at 12:48 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
be totally exposed, and be able to control one's body to not get an erection, despite others being nude, and certain locales, like the gym, being unofficial hook-up spots to find a partner. in this case, the masculine needing to be controlled is extended to the horses. +
June 12, 2025 at 12:26 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
depicted figures /need/ to have those ideals asserted, and one common way throughout history is demonstrating the masculine. not just with people-- though the tapestry has those too! +
June 12, 2025 at 12:26 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
but alice bringing up the connotations of the bayeux horse penises is still just as relevant then as it is now as new media is produced. viewers can clearly see not only the erect component, but the balls. these appear in the lengthy (haha) bayeux tapestry over 90 times. so we have to ask: why? +
June 12, 2025 at 12:17 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
going on a pass and wheezing as I remember/realize how chaotic tiern's intro is, oh man

he looks SOOO NICE (unlike this moment in 52 BCE!) thanks to getting his portrait done by @silverpeel.bsky.social ❤️

#amwriting #historicalfiction
April 29, 2025 at 12:59 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
Painted dearly beloved Pebbles, as she deserves, because there’s no one else I’d rather ride around Bohemia with. 🥺

#KCD2 #KingdomComeDeliverance
A painting of a gray horse in a landscape of Trosky
April 8, 2025 at 3:35 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
local people sick of ancient rome messing with their haunted swamp, more at 9.

three cheers for 'where we bury our deer' 🦌

(dain was drawn by the wonderful @velimir228.bsky.social)

#ChaosPit #F #HF #A #Q
meme image of dain and pettia, text saying 'help! my hot druid husband wants to sacrifice himself to the horned god to stop julius caesar.'
April 1, 2025 at 3:27 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
I was unprepared for my acting comeback to be in a feature film, but here we are 🙈

any script that lets me speak French is an instant joy
March 14, 2025 at 3:47 PM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
first competition in the books with my sweet boy! baby boy with an old soul 🥰 grateful for a good week despite some challenges
March 14, 2025 at 3:26 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
still reeling from an incredible questlit! Love reading about other ppl's projects and seeing agencies tune in. working on some final pass refinements on WHERE WE BURY OUR DEER before I send it off! big fan of this supportive, communal section haha #amwriting #historicalfiction
February 14, 2025 at 12:26 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
oh, stag prince... and here's a fun note. the story is "narrated" by the collective voices of the village.
Dain squeezes his eyes shut. He’s afraid, and oh, how he feels sick. He misses the old days, the golden ones, when he only knew skinned knees, canters through the valley, and laughter bringing on the setting of the sun. Those days when learning Latin was because of pilgrims and trade, not war. We asked so much of him. We never thought about the depths of our demands until, to get there, we all had to sink. How we did not break his body then with the weight of our souls when we needed them carried, we do not know. He took our burdens with no complaints. If we could go back, if we could have told him to laugh and play for longer and not given him such a heavy mantle so early, we would have done it. We would have done it, and he would have refused us, we know, but at least we would have done it. We would have tried. It never occurs to us that radiance can fade. We forget that a fire needs fuel. His was a fire that never asked for our wood. He would burn, burn, burn into an empty husk for us again and again and again. He’d condemn himself to leave us the mountains, but we’d rather have his body and soul.
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
he LOVES HIS BROTHER
Dain can never forget the memory of holding his little brother for the first time for as long he lives. It didn’t matter he was still a little child himself, and it didn’t matter that his little brother was technically only his cousin then, too. He held Tiern, so small and already so loud with how much he kicked and cried. Tiern was family. Tiern was his. They were going to be the best friends in the world. He decided this all, then. “I’m going to protect you,” Dain whispered to his baby brother that day. He had no idea it was going to be the other way around.
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
the ship name for dain x pettia is technically pain
“I could have run into the marsh with my baby brother,” Pettia whispers. “I could have kept running until I found a place they’d never find us.” “If they found us here,” Dain says as he strokes her cheek, “they’ll find us anywhere.” “I know. I just like to dream. They can’t find us in the Celtia in our heads.” Dain swallows. He lets the silence pass before he pulls back just enough to look at his wife. “Can I do anything else to help?” the Druid asks shakily. Pettia smiles that sad, sad smile. It’s still a smile all the same. “Just be here, and love me.”
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
oops! tiern gets a dad, the medicus gets a son.
The Medicus taps his hand against Tiern’s cheek. The gesture earns him no response, not a flinch, not a grumble, not a Celtic curse. Expecting him to make it until morning is foolishly optimistic, so his plan to take him to the road seems especially braindead. The Medicus knows one thing, though. The human body and spirit can never be fully explained. He doesn’t know why some of his patients have lived, when the others have died. He has no answers for miraculous lucidity, or bright people up and dropping dead. Here is what the Medicus also knows: he’s a father first, a doctor second, and a Roman third. No one has ever ordered him to let a boy die. He isn’t about to start.
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
tiern is the scrungliest warrior
Tiern goes to push up again. Even with the pain being worse, he makes more progress, and briefly peels his upper back up from the earth with a choke. “Idiot,” the Decurion huffs. “You people need to know when you’re beaten.” The rage behind that young man’s eyes is the sort that spans generations. Hazel irises appear closer to red, and their depths swim with the memories of every day his people were occupied, and every throat that was crushed by a boot. His hate swells with the scale of the inheritance of spite from every Celt living no longer. The air isn’t warm from a waning summer; it burns from his fire, his opposition so strong it singes. You, his gaze echoes, you will never have me. Tiern should never have been able to do what he did, then. The young man, dying he’s sure, hacks out a pained, wheezing breath as he lurches forward and props one elbow under him. He manages to hold himself up down to his middle back, and is leaned forward enough to see all their faces, and the entire surface of the sword threatening him. Tiern grasps the blade with his other trembling hand. He squeezes his fingers around it; the inside of his palm is protected with leather, but the sharpened edges tear at it. The Decurion inhales sharply in alarm, and the movement makes the sword jerk slightly. It cuts Tiern’s fingers next, opening them enough to make blood begin to trickle down, but he doesn’t move his hand save to try and force the sword to the side, away from his throat. He manages an inch, then another. “Know this,” Tiern chokes out. His voice labors like the rest of his body, but the venom in his eyes makes its way to his tongue, and what he slings back between his gasping breaths is the sound of vengeance. “I… will spend every last second… while my heart still beats… resisting you.”
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
the tragedy of alesia
“While our dead become one with the earth, and parents learn that their wonderful, beautiful, foolish children are gone, the genius behind the battle, a man named Julius Caesar, is given twenty days of celebrations for his victory.”
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM
thepinkcurator.bsky.social
Villain origin story, ft. Tiern and his "I don't even know who you are."
Some moons later, the encampment hosted members of the Roman army who were passing through. There were many equestrians among them, and Tiern watched as they handed off their horses and made good on the wine. When some of them noticed Tiern sparring at the training grounds that evening, a handful of younger fools among their ranks stepped up to have a go. Tiern was all too happy to oblige; giving the soldiers new cuts and bruises was one of the few real joys he felt inside of the ramparts. He made a game of it, and they played. After several rounds, Tiern rolled his shoulders back and lowered his sword. One among the Roman ranks lunged forward; he’d been next to take him on. “I’ve had my fill,” Tiern murmured, and he barely gave the Roman a sidelong glance. The soldier, a dark-haired, rigid young man of about thirty frowned. “I’m a Decurion. If I order you t–” “And I’m the Wolf Prince,” said Tiern with an errant tilt back of his head. As he began to walk off, his hair caught the light of the campfire and appeared red. “So long.” Tiern forgot about this Decurion very quickly. The Decurion, however, did not forget about him.
February 13, 2025 at 2:10 AM