#pygmalion

[sixgills]

Its official! Putty Pygmalion is being published by @silversprocket and comes out in July!!!!

Derryl, a lonely radish, creates a boyfriend out of a defunct & illegal children's product. His creation, Peter, springs to life ready to make a child happy, & instead finds a suffocating existence catering to Derryl’s needs.

When Peter sneaks out to a party one night & meets Derryl’s friends, he discovers more to his creator’s intentions. A queer complication on the Pygmalion myth, brought to life through Lonnie Garcia’s emotional, multimedia comic art. Pre-order now!

Link to preorder book here

#indie comics #furry comics #furry #anthro #book announcement #lgbt #horror #multimedia #comics #silver sprocket #putty pygmalion #90s aesthetic #pygmalion

[anglerflsh]

Pygmalion

the rendering of the statue is unfinished because the statue itself is equally unfinished

#[.art] #Pygmalion #greek myths #except I am making this gay & transgender & about me. Heart emoji #self #gay #transgender #<- slides this into the tags. is it about carving your perfect lover or your perfect self. You won't know #ellenistic #classicism #classical mythology #greek mythology

[crayfishcoffee]

Pygmalion / Galatea

~ A Trans Retelling ~

printed on white & semi-transparent vellum paper

#pygmalion #galatea #aphrodite #greek mythology #greek myth #comic #my art #original art #I'll probs be selling copies of this soon so keep an eye out for that

[brabblesblog]

As if the gods made you to ruin me.

A little love letter for everyone who makes art for this vampire man.

Inspired by the Greek myth of Pygmalion and Galatea. First person POV. A sculptor confronts a piece of marble, and Astarion is their masterpiece. One-shot.

The idea of statues "breaking free" from the marble is taken from Michelangelo. This can be better seen in his Prisoners.

@spacebarbarianweird mentioned Pygmalion today, and this idea came to me.

Read on AO3.

P.S. If my writing is something you're interested in, please consider my masterlist. I highly recommend beginning with the 'Whither' series. Thank you<3

The finest, purest white marble. I stare at it, unsure, trying to parse out the figure trapped in the block for me to release. An elf, I think, my hands reaching out in front of me, imagining where the curves would be. Curls, long and growing over his ears. A sharp jaw, strong and yet delicate.

I pick up my tools, and begin my work.

It’s almost as if I’m not in control of my creation. My hands work of their own accord, carving in features that genuinely surprise me and were probably not what I would have preferred, but the longer I look, the more it seems right.

It has deep, piercing eyes, with crow’s feet. I find myself staring at it at times during breaks. It looks like it’s trying to escape its stony prison, emerging from the formless block. Its expression is poignant, as if it was lost in thought.

Smile lines? I draw backwards and away from the sculpture, frowning myself. It gave the man a look of maturity even though it was youthful. Together with the smile lines and the subtle wrinkles on its face, it seemed as if the man had lived a harrowing life before being trapped in the rock for me to uncover.

And yet, it was beautiful. There was something ethereal in the way it gazed out into space and pondered nothing.

I keep up the work. I feel myself slowly getting absorbed by it. The compulsion to keep going is overwhelming, and unlike any other. I don’t eat other than the bare minimum. I don’t leave my room unless necessary. I don’t think of much else other than what part of him to carve next.

It - no - he consumes my thoughts. In the day I carve and release him from his marble prison. At night I dream of him. Of his face, of his delicate hands, of his lithe body. I dream, I wish, and I long.

He is my finest work, the star amongst my oeuvre. My patrons are forgotten, their commissions delayed. Their ire is nothing to me. There is only him.

Astarion.

The name, his name, comes to me in a fever dream. He reaches out to me, and I ask him what he would want to be called.

A frown crosses those features, and I want more than anything to press my lips to his forehead and smooth the furrows on his brow. I watch him open his mouth, and it surprises me to see fangs.

“Astarion,” he says, and his voice catches me by surprise. There is a slight nasal timbre to it, and a drawl, almost a purr, at the end.

I snap awake, staring at the marble statue. He is looking at a spot about a meter away from where I am right now, the moonlight streaming through the window illuminating his ivory skin.

Ivory. Color. I remember now. His eyes were crimson, his hair white as snow. Features I had never imagined, the medium of my work limiting me from even considering anything regarding complexion. However, the stone was a close match to his skin in my dreams - a white so smooth it was almost pearlescent.

A vampire, I realize, as I remember one more thing: the scars on his neck. I pick up my chisel and walk over to the marble, my hands searching for the spot I remember from my dreams.

I carve, and it is perfect.

I wonder who he is, and what he’s done in his life. I am almost done freeing him, the stone block now only at his knees. I work on his genitals, shaping them as best as I can. I carve out a vein, which I would imagine to be of a bluish tint.

His body is beautiful, and I step back to admire it. Muscular, but not too large. Delicate, long limbs, the marble’s natural veins adding to the illusion of an actual circulatory system. Fingers that would make a pianist weep. Strong legs, with subtle thigh musculature.

He is full of contradictions. Masculine, and yet feminine, his hands on the delicate tilt of his hips. Youthful, and yet his face belies a strange maturity and melancholy. So real to me, and yet here he is, just the work of my hands and my overactive imagination.

I am enthralled.

I do not put him on display once he is done. I don’t sell him. He stays in my room, taking up valuable working space. I do not care.

He is my muse. I talk to him, argue with him, ask him for his thoughts. There is no response, no more dreams.

I weep. I mourn for something that never was. I seek company in lonely taverns, for warm bodies to lose myself in. It is never enough. It is not even close.

I cover him in a sheet. I don’t want to see him, to be reminded of what I so desperately need and can never have.

I try, so damn hard, to forget.

“You ruined my life!” I scream to no one in particular, to him. I am unable to work, my patrons having moved on to more productive artists. I want to throw my chisels at him, to topple him over and ruin him, as he had ruined me. But I cannot.

I rip off the sheets, staring at that face that had burrowed so deeply into my psyche, and I give in and move to press my lips against it. I close my eyes.

The lips that meet mine are cold - but not stone-cold - and soft. I feel hands move to wrap around my waist, tugging me close. I instinctively move my hands up over his head, and feel hair against my fingers - curly, fine strands that flow against my fingers like silk.

A very good illusion from my mind, I gather. As I pull away I force my eyes to open. Crimson ones meet me, and those smile lines crinkle as he grins.

“Hello, darling,” he breathes.

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire@qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptrr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #greek mythology #pygmalion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #astarion fic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion romance

[make-death-proud-to-takeus]

Pygmalion and Galatea (detail), Jean-Léon Gérôme

#chaotic academia #dark academia #art #aesthetic #academia #dark romanticism #light academia #painting #classic literature #classic #classic academia #classics #myth #greek mythology #greek myth art #pygmalion #painter #jean leon gerome #classical art #artist #mine

[northlt]

Fic idea idk how to explain

Barty and Evan, no matter what universe they're in, what time they're in, their souls are tied together.

It's early 1200 BC Barty (then called Achilles) sets off to Troy with his close companion Patroclus (Evan). Barty wants glory, to have his name be known for the ages. He wants to be like the greats- Hercules, Jason, Theseus, he wants to be a hero.

Evan follows, because that's all he has known- Barty. Just Achilles. That's all he's known his whole life. He goes where Achilles does. That's the way they work. He just wants his lover. He doesn't care much for the glory aspect.

It's the 5th century AD, Evan (then known as the king Arthur) has a kingdom to lead. He has to be a great ruler, to do his best, to do his duty. Granted, he's a bit of a prat, but can you blame him? He grew up knowing he would inherit his father's kingdom.

His father, who banned the use of magic forever in their kingdom. Evan doesn't really care for magic but he's grown up fearing it because of his father's words.

Evan is used to be attended to, by servants and maids, what he's not used to is being insulted time and time again by his new servant, a scrawny man his age, with a mop of dark hair and a permanent scowl. His name is Merlin and though Arthur doesn't know that, he's known Merlin's soul in a previous lifetime.

Merlin, or Barty, take your pick, takes pride in trying to bring Arthur down a notch or two. He had grown up with no one but his mother looking after him. And here's Evan with the whole kingdom at his feet.

They end up alone more often than not. The more time they spend together, the less Merlin hates him. The more he starts to care and the more he starts to save his life with his magic.

Arthur's reading him poetry when they kiss for the first time. Slow and unsure at first. Full of fear. Evan runs away, only to kiss Barty harder the next time they meet.

One thing leads to another.

They're happy. Until Arthur dies. There's nothing Merlin can do, and believe him, he tries.

It's the 15th Century when their souls meet again. Barty's a sculptor, he carves marble like it's clay, he pours his heart into his art. He doesn't care much for the women of the city.

He grows up hearing about gods- Zeus, the king of gods, the one who controls the skies, Poseidon, the god of the sea and earthquakes, stormbringer, Hades, the god of the underworld, his domain is death itself. He sees paintings about them, the greatest artists of his age starting the renaissance. He doesn't know he'll be a part of history.

Barty hears about heroes as well, mighty Heracles, Theseus and the Minotaur, Jason and the Argonauts. He hears and reads about the Trojan war, about Achilles and Patroclus- a great warrior duo. But above all... lovers.

Inspiration strikes, Barty carves night and day. He doesn't have a model, he carves from memory. His memory now? Or his memory of a past life?

Patroclus, slowly but steadily comes to life under his tools. First his figure, then limbs, then face. Barty feels like he should know him.

He presses a kiss to the marble statue's cold cheek.

The next morning, he's alive. A bit confused, but surely enough, alive. Barty had prayed to the gods and some must have heard.

The thing about the statue is... it wasn't perfect. There were parts Barty glossed over, parts he procrastinated, parts he forgot. So the person who pops out oft he Patroclus statue isn't perfect either.

Except he is... at least for Barty.

And so it goes, again and again and again.

They're writers in one lifetime, forced to hide their love for fear of society. They write about one another. Only a hundred years from then would people discover it.

They're soldiers in one. Both in a war they try to hopelessly outrun. They drink with one another and fight and fuck and kiss and it's messy, everything is messy.

They're wizards in one. They attend a school of witchcraft. War is brewing there too. A blood purist, a supremist. Evan's parents are supporters. He wants to get out desperately. He doesn't have much of a choice. They've seen how this war tears and takes and kills.

Barty's father is no supporter of the Dark Lord, quite the opposite, actually. Barty joins anyway. Not because he thinks he's better than ones without magic parents, not because he agrees with what the Dark Lord says. But because Evan is there. And Evan needs him.

They've already lost Regulus. They only have each other.

Evan's an actor in one lifetime. Pretty face, sharp, striking features. He's quick thinking, charming, teasing and far too good looking for his own good.

Barty's a singer. Men, women, everyone practically throws themselves at him. His voice is like a siren's... pulling and pulling and pulling. He bares his teeth in every smile.

They meet at an award show of all places. They've both vaguely heard of one another.

Don't ask why their ties were switched, their hair disshelved, their suits rumpled when they walk out of the bathroom one after the other.

#barty #marauders #regulus black #marauders era #dead gay wizards #hogwarts #the marauders #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #achilles #patrochilles #pygmalion #greek mythology #trojan war #lgbtq #gayyyy #au #lifetime #fic ideas

[the-evil-clergyman]

Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean-Leon Gerome (1890)

#jean-leon gerome #art #paintings #fine art #19th century #19th century art #academism #academicism #academic art #painting #french artist #french art #mythology #greek mythology #pygmalion #galatea #cupid #classic art

[kneelingshadowsalome]

been thinking about Roman!König for a few days and it got me thinking about a Pygmalion!Reader who heard of this mighty warrior of legend and developed a bit of a crush on him and ended up making a very detailed statue of König only to wake up the next day and see him standing over her bed with the most unnerving stare and a tent in his loin cloth that she does not remember carving, her warrior is a lot more clingy and uhhh affectionate than the legends let on

Lol the way this ask has invaded my brain

Like imagine her trying to move that statue back to where it was, only to feel that it’s somehow become very… warm. It’s even more lifelike than before, and so heavy she almost gets buried underneath it as she tries to push it back towards the wall of her hut.

She has been praying to both goddesses and gods that she would find a decent, kind man who’s also strong and capable of protecting and providing for her and who would give her many children. But the men she has met are nothing of the sort... They're practically the polar opposite of what she has asked!

So what if she finally gave up on men for good, and carved this special statue? It was supposed to be something completely different at first but somehow ended up turning into a man… A giant of a man, who started to resemble awfully lot this legendary warrior who had big arms, a wide chest and a strong set of legs, strong hips, too… Large hands, broad shoulders: she sometimes measures herself against the statue and notices they would be wide enough to engulf her were the statue alive.

But she didn’t pray for anything specific in the crotch area. She never even carved anything there, only a loincloth, which is now tented with a demanding, huge erection. And when she brushes the loincloth, it moves. The cock underneath moves. It twitches against her hand, and the cloth feels warm; everything in the statue feels warm as she grabs it by the shoulder and wraps her hand around the wood.

Except, it’s not wood she’s touching.

The cloth falls aside and she finds her hand wrapped around the thick girth of a man’s cock; it’s hard as wood but soft on the surface like it’s real, like it’s skin she’s touching.

“You need to stop, little one, or else I'll spill my seed…”

She jumps away from the statue as it speaks.

The statue speaks.

She is sure she heard a low rumble of a voice, dark, but amiable.

Friendly… Playful.

“König…?”

She utters the long forgotten hero’s name, only to see how the lips on the now impossibly lifelike statue draw into a small smile. His eyes move, they watch her down, then up, just before the wide chest draws breath. The low rumble that follows causes her lips part, and then the man before her speaks again.

“You’re beautiful, kleine Bildhauerin…”

#...and then they bang right? #^^ #he's everything she ever asked for and more! #pygmalion #answered

[pr0fessional-cunt]

*tries not to think about how saltburn is some twisted version of pygmalion*

pygmalion is a greek story of how a sculptor created a woman from marble and fell in love with her. he prayed to Aphrodite to make her real, and his wish was granted.

pygmalion has soon become the story of molding a person into who you want them to be, and falling for them; falling for how you perceive them in your head. “she’s all that” is a modern retelling of pygmalion; the change, the love.

oliver changes for felix, one could say by his hand. he molds himself to be what felix loves, what he needs. oliver is both pygmalion and the statue.

#saltburn #pygmalion #oliver quick #felix catton #felix catton x oliver quick #felix x oliver

[shinigabi-tan]

Wendy Hiller as Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion (1938) Dir. Anthony Asquith and Leslie Howard.

#wendy hiller #pygmalion #anthony asquith #movie edit #gif edit #film edit #movie gifs #english movie #gifs by me #go off queen! #like really these shots are amazing #and im obsessed with her

[saintsilmarillion]

If I could only call you back through stone to flesh

Oh did you think I was done with Mairon and this statue? @fraeuleinfriedhof ‘s recent Fic made me want to give them some sad sweet alone time and @cilil is the reason they haunt me

#silm fanart #Angbang #numenor #mairon x melkor #zigur #temple of melkor #silm art #angbang art #my art #pygmalion #fanart #Tolkien fanart #Sauron

[gloww0rms]

pygmalion and galatea as farcille . is that anything

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #pygmalion #pygmalion and galatea #greek mythology #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi spoilers

[vinca-majors]

it's a call and response

it's a call and response

IT'S A CALL AND RESPONSE!!!!!

alan jay lerner i want to shake you by your collar and scream at the top of my lungs because somehow despite my deep and abiding love for this musical i did not understand until harry hadden-paton's delivery of this line and the actual script in front of my eyes that it's. a CALL AND RESPONSE!!!!

#don't look at me i'm VERKLEMPT #my fair lady #pygmalion #eliza x higgins #henry higgins #eliza doolittle

[dumblr]

Have you ever heard about the story of Pygmalion? It’s a greek myth about a sculptor who fell in love with a sculpture he made. It sounds crazy right? What if I told you that most of us have been a Pygmalion at least once in our lives. We fell in love with some images we create of people in our heads. Images that sometimes are never true.

I remember the first time we talked. I remember how I felt; The butterflies in my stomach when I talked to you, the goofy smiles upon thinking of you. This is it, you are the one; I remember it all. But what I remember the most is my mind telling me: If it’s too good to be true, it probably isn’t. But I think I was too (Pygmalioned) to see. I made you everything I loved about you and I fell desperately in love with this idea I made up in my mind of you. I don’t have to get over you, I have to get over myself, I have to get over how I thought of you

#quotes #sculptor #sculpture #pygmalion #greek mythology #love #feelings #emotions #thoughtful #wise words #personal #relatable #based on true story #my story #true words #unsaid thoughts #writer #love story #in love #dumblr

[thebarroomortheboy]

What’s the matter? Anything wrong? 

WENDY HILLER and LESLIE HOWARD in BERNARD SHAW’S PYGMALION (1938) | dir. ANTHONY ASQUITH

#pygmalion #bernard shaw #my fair lady #classic film source #filmgifs #british cinema #filmblr #classicfilmblr #classicfilmedit #leslie howard #wendy hiller #1930's cinema #circa 1938 #1938 films #professor henry higgins #eliza doolittle #henry x eliza #period drama #drama edit

[an-au-blog]

Shuggy Greek myth au where Shank is basically Pygmalion but it's a little different because I'm not about to rip off an entire myth (because it's literally my favorite au for anything)

Shanks keeps painting and sculpting the same face. It's edged into his memory and he does whatever he can to recreate it. Every piece becoming better than the last one, more and more like the vision he has. And every piece makes him fall deeper and deeper in love with this person.

He called his muse "The emperor of the sea", because he just knew that whoever that was, he wouldn't be anything less than the best.

He isn't sure who the person is, but he's sure he was the love of his life. His best friend, his world, his source of happiness. So he kept on trying over and over again. That was until one day he decided he would make a sculpture. A life-sized marble sculpture.

He worked day and night. Until finally, he was done.

A traveler passing by, saw the admiration and love Shanks was putting into his statue and they asked him who it was. Shanks did his best to explain it and the traveler said that maybe he should wish him alive. Maybe on a shooting star or maybe someone with the power to do so can bring him alive. But that he should also be careful what he wish for.

That night Shanks saw a shooting star and wished upon it. He wished that the man in his visions would appear before him. He wanted all of him, his eyes on him, his long hair and thick eyelashes, his arms and legs around him... his loud personality. How he longed for his raspy voice and even his explosive temper. His jokes and laughter, his arrogance and his doubt. He wanted all of him.

He heard something so he quickly looked back to see that the statue he made is moving. More than that. He was in color, breathing, blinking, stretching.

Shanks could almost cry. He stumbled to reach his love, but his love took a step back from him.

It must be scary to see someone who you've never seen before try and fail to run towards you, he thought. So he tried to explain who he was and what happened, to introduce himself. But the emperor stopped him. He told him he knew who he was. He received the memory of the marble that he "molested" into life.

Shanks was so confused... he used that word, it was offensive. It could have been a misunderstanding. So Shanks tried again. This time he confessed to him. He poured his heart out, told him about how much he loved him and wanted to cherish him for the rest of their lives.

The creation smiled. It was a cold smile, one of pity. He responded with a rhetorical question: Why would an emperor of the sea settle for an insignificant and unambitious man like you.

#shuggy #shuggy au #pygmalion #Pygmalion au #hehehe >:) #one piece shuggy #shanks x buggy #buggy x shanks #shuggy angst #op