pinned place holder. selective multi-muse. written by zoe, also @ agamemnides. rules & info here.
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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almost home
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@sangmuse
pinned place holder. selective multi-muse. written by zoe, also @ agamemnides. rules & info here.
Remember this is the odor of earth and air. / This perfume summons souls.
Meena Alexander, from Atmospheric Embroidery: Poems; “Attar,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
Statue of the goddess Aphrodite (Venus) bathing in the garden of the Royal Palace: Caserta, Italy.
SING TO ME MUSE THE SONG OF ABANDONMENT, of bitter loneliness building a home within the spartan princess’ heart. you have not been one for companionship, fair-tressed helen, though resting in the eyes of the world you have never felt anything but alone. as the years pass her by, even age abandons the daughter of zeus, though uncountable dawns have passed her features look no different than on that fated day stolen in paris’ grasp. and so she had lost herself in witchcraft, finding companionship between the potions and poisons, a friend in the powers they held. that had been how it was, a song for the ages, an epic in becoming, in protecting oneself; that had been all until she’d come across the daughter of the forests, the lonely dryad and for the first time she did not feel so alone no more. as helios charted his many rides across the sky so the two grow closer, crafting companionship where none had been before, finding shelter in this mythic forest far from the pains and torturers of their past. it was on such a day dawn had risen, fresh and rosy fingered as she always did, helen was sitting with her back to a tree besides the other, wild-flower strewn throughout her hair as a forest nympth at the breaking of spring ( but oh she was so much more ) as she ground her mortar, building a potion where there had been none before, a sense of peace befell the daughter of zeus, a smile danced across her features and she turned to the other, “ i don't think i could live alone again. ”
@atomancy sent : “ 💬 ” for a generated starter. for helen & julia.
DEATH AND MAGIC HAVE ALWAYS WALKED HAND IN HAND FOR YOU, shireen baratheon, you who was brought up upon the whispers of the red woman, you who in youth danced so close to death. the touch of death still lingers firmly upon fair-cheeks, a barren landscape marring the valleys of her face, a mark of death for all to see. and they do see it, of that she is sure, every eye drawn to the scar, quickly smothered into the cold embrace of fear and dread; she has heard their whispered words, particularly those upon the wall, that she is a cursed girl, marked for death and that she still remains a danger to them all. and so at the other’s words disgust grasps at the baratheon princess, finger lift to skim across marred cheek. “ the red lady says my father cannot win the war without magic. that she will put us upon the iron throne with none but the lord of light at her side --------- i only wish for my lord father to be safe. ” words falter for a moment, hazel orbs lift to meet the woman before her, “ and perhaps to be free of this. ” fingers skim cheek once more. if only she were a true girl, a real princess, not stuck in this cursed in-between.
@saintslips sent : “ all of life is slightly dependent on magic . so is death . ” for shireen.
wylla the rusalka —— her comb was the rusalka’s greatest treasure, for if her hair dried, she would die; but the comb could conjure water anywhere. ( katherine arden, the bear and the nightingale )
@thievae· .
‘ 𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙺 𝙸'𝙼 𝚂𝙾 𝚃𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙱𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴? ' the lake is a trembling creature ( … ) he watches it ripple out and soak back in, a lazy beast that held contentment in every lost movement — AND SHE IS SOFTENED WITHIN IT [ or perhaps the lake does not hold her within, the sweet embrace of a lover who had long since become little more than a bitter name : PERHAPS WYLLA HELD ALL OF THE LAKE INSIDE OF HER ]. ' i come only to offer help — though, i suppose help often leads to trouble. ' his sword is a metallic weight at his side, a disruption of the nature that bends towards them with eager ears. ’ are you much trouble, my dear? YOU DON'T LOOK IT. ’
“ OF COURSE YOU ARE TROUBLESOME! you are a faerie after all, thus you must be troublesome ------- it’s an endearing quality they all share. ” she glides through water towards the man, ripples softer than a lover’s embrace, an amused smile flowing across watery lips. water can be cruel, violent waves and deathly depths, and oft times she mirrors that, dragging mortals down to watery depths, yet there is a softness within it too, found in the gentle lap of waves kissing the shore, the stillness of a moonlit lake and the ripple of a fish beneath the surface. it is such softness she offers the figure before her, smiles and jest reserved for none but her friend, bringing company to the isolated depths. “ you’re wrong, help alway’s leads to trouble. it’s what all mortal’s discover when trying to help the drowning girl trapped in the lake. ” she shrugs at that; hunger does not drive her, nor malice either, she is led by necessity, a longing to live, a need for remembrance. who’s to worry that such things rest with mortals lost in the bottom of lake. “ and i can be trouble alastor, don’t pretend you don’t know it. it’s in your song remember! ” she casts a splash of water towards him at that, “ but yes, i wouldn’t turn down some help. not from a dear friend such as yourself and not in such desperate times such as these. human belief is fading, i fear as to where that will leave me. ”
Things happen and we are changed by them, as we are by each other. Sometimes, it is not fair. Other times, the moon rises and we become.
Beyond Survival, ‘Still Life’ by Aditi Nagrath (via decreation)
SING TO ME MUSE OF SWIFT-FLYING RUMOUR, of her song which had been spread throughout all the world. your fame reached the ends of the earth, fair-cheeked helen, the greek launched a thousand ships for you and yet did you ever really belong? that was the curse of her beauty, a beauty blessed by the gods, in a manner it had deified her even before she’d left the mortal plains, making her unreachable, untouchable to the average man. she’d walked besides them, in step with their mortal lives, and yet there’d always been a wall between them, a barrier holding her from ever fitting in. troy had only catalysed it, for you war-bringing helen, was neither greek or trojan, neither defender or attacker. she had known how they’d hated her, the whisper of the handmaiden’s and trojan ladies, a gentle buzz surrounding her in all she did, even watching the battle field one could hear her name a curse upon every warrior’s lips. and now those years are behind her, following the risings of countless rosy-fingered dawns; such memories are little more than stories, a song to sing your rosy-cheeked child before bed each night and laughter-loving helen liked to believe she’d grown above all that, the loneliness, the abandonment, for what were such emotions to a god? and yet what was there for gods in this modern world, faded to obscurity, to the teaching’s of classroom’s and writing of books ---------- who would be their companions in this disbelieving world. and so the other’s words struck a chord in the goddess, allowing memory to sing a mournful tune upon her heart, a bittersweet smile budding upon rose-crafted lips. “ that’s the funny thing about not belonging, no-one believes they can be more alone until they are a tenfold more. one might think it a curse from the gods. ” a half smile quirked her lips at that.
@herhaunt sent : ❛ i never really belonged anywhere ❜ for helen.
Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
THE FAIR FOLK -------- we must not talk of the things we find in the heart of the forest. they are all secrets. if there were not secrets, we would have heard of them before.
i love the fair folk sm. sometimes i just want to move all my chara’s into faerie verses and make this blog strictly faeries only
WHAT IS HAPPINESS TO YOU, little eabha, where oh where can it be found? once you had dreamed it was in the lost land’s in-between, the place of the fair folk, a place where you could finally be home. the concept has grown since then, no more a longing but a reality, and you feel it in the winding woods of the dryads, in the laughter and trickery of the goblin market, as wind sweeps through knotted hair sat upon the back of the pooka and in the sense of yourself returned. for a long time such things had been enough, everything had been new and exciting, with each step of her journey she had felt herself shift, sprouting thorns and flowers, glamour return, finally feeling herself again. and yet there had been something missing, the time in the mortal realm having crafted a chasm in her heart which would never be fixed; no matter what new wonders she uncovered, where she travelled, who she met, emptiness had always been besides her grabbing her hand and tugging her back. she became lost in herself, that emptiness, until even the pixies song brought little glee and had found herself dragged back to mortal realms, filling herself in the delight of trickery, watching mortals dance to death in toadstool rings, stealing names and shadows, sowing magic instead of seeds. the mortal world had broken her, stealing her from her home and self and yet without it’s presence she was lost once more, joy must be found in the torment of mortals.
at the others word’s features shift into the mockery of a scowl, human expressions have never come naturally, there is a wildness dancing in the twist of her features, an alienness which can never quite be place. “ gratitude? what can gratitude offer but toil and debt, trapped in a bargain with no means of escape. that is the very opposite of happiness. ” for to the fae thanks is as binding as any true name, never to be spoken, barely even to be thought. if the speaker had been any other, some silly mortal, she would have found her joy in stealing the words from the other’s lips, locking her in a bargain of endless torment. but there is something off about her, not quite mortal, though far from faerie, and as such she finds a sense of pity settling, as much pity as one of the fair folk can feel anyway, for she understands what it is to be an alien in your home. and so though following words are spat out, fuelled with a tone of gleeful terror their is a warning in them too, a secret of protection for this not quite mortal girl. “ i find happiness in the trickery of mortals, in stealing of their homes, children and very selves ---------- we all do. don’t ever offer gratitude to my kind serena, it might be the last thing you do. ”
@saintslips : ‘ it’s true what they say about happiness . if you approach life from a place of gratitude , you’re more apt to enjoy things . ’ for eabha.
* ‘ 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 ’ 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 .
all quotes are taken from the book hidden bodies by caroline kepnes . the second book in the you series .
( WARNING : some quotes are graphic & include mentions of murder , death , & may contain strong language ! )
‘ it is possible to know people . they show you who they are . you just have to be looking . ’
‘ we all get our hearts broken . ’
‘ to be alive is to do it again . to love is to risk everything . ’
‘ the real horror of my life is not that i’ve killed some terrible people . ’
‘ the real horror is that the people i’ve loved didn’t love me back . ’
‘ the real horror of my life is not that i’ve killed some terrible people . the real horror is that the people i’ve loved did not love me back . ’
‘ love is kind , love is patient , but also , mainly , above all – yes – love is perverted . ’
‘ there is nothing more terrifying than realizing the one who knows you best loves you least , pities you even . ’
‘ a book lets you choose how much of the blood you want to see . a book gives you the permission to see the story as you want , as your mind directs . ’
‘ memories are all the same at their core . it’s just us trying to keep each other alive . the best parts anyway . ’
‘ your skin is a waste of space because there’s no heart inside of you . ’
‘ i can’t stand the way you make me feel so good , like , better than i ever felt , and then you tear it all away , like deep down , you don’t want me to be happy . ’
‘ the girl at the register winked and said she’s also a big fan of ‘ fifty shades ’ and this is what has become of our society . fucking and killing are the same damn thing . ’
‘ you can love someone all you want , but you can’t go into their past and become part of their formative years . ’
‘ i wish it were socially acceptable to brandish a knife . ’
‘ just eat it and shit it and be done and don’t feel special cause you eat that shit with someone because in the end we all shit alone . ’
‘ you are not burdened with a sensitive heart . yours just beats . ’
‘ we don’t care , you know ? do whatever . chill out . be gay . be straight . i mean , what is the big deal ? we’re all gonna die anyway , you know ? who wants to spend their precious life hating ? ’
‘ this town is full of places to hide a body , but when the person inside the body doesn’t love you , it’s not an easy thing , turning that breathing person into a bad one . ’
‘ there is nothing remarkable about this ‘ guac ’ , about any ‘ guac ’ , and california needs to calm the fuck down . ’
‘ you wasted my heart , my time . ’
‘ i don’t like this culture of reading a book and spitting out an immediate reaction . ’
‘ there is no such thing as a one - night stand . sometimes , what you do for one night destroys your future . ’
‘ do i speak english ? no , but i speak cunt ! ’
‘ it’s not the past if it’s not finished . ’
‘ it would be nice to have something alive to hold on to right now , something to love me , something with a beating heart that i can feel , something to be with me as i sit here , in hell , trying to figure it out . ’
‘ i gave her as much as i had . ’
‘ there is something wrong with me . ’
‘ i’m like an asshole in a sitcom who learns the same fucking lesson every week and this is my life . ’
‘ all of life is slightly dependent on magic . so is death . ’
‘ i go over the mistake in my head a dozen times a day . ’
‘ the key to life is to believe in something that matters , something big and beautiful , something more profound than fame , money . ’
‘ just be in it . you earned it . ’
‘ i am done with all that . and i will not let my past dictate my future . ’
‘ somewhere along the way you broke your own heart and without a heart you can’t get better . ’
‘ you’re not a good killer . obviously . ’
‘ i’m relaxed just knowing that he’s going to be dead soon . ’
‘ your life is supposed to expand . your bed is supposed to have enough room for someone else and when that someone comes along , it’s your job to let them in . ’
‘ he became a cop because of the simplicity of the uniform ; you don’t have to think about what to wear every day . ’
‘ being together is the best feeling in the world , better than sex , better than a red convertible or that first ‘ i love you ’ . ’
‘ i can’t stand the idea of being asleep and missing one second of our life together . ’
‘ the best role models can be the worst role models . ’
‘ life is cruel and the word ‘ love ’ shouldn’t be plastered all over the fucking place . ’
‘ we are perfect together and i am better for knowing you . ’
‘ when you are in love you listen . ’
‘ it’s true what they say about happiness . if you approach life from a place of gratitude , you’re more apt to enjoy things . ’
The Fae.
YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS TO HAVE CHILDHOOD ABANDON YOU, wylla manderly, to have lost years to a war and your innocence robbed of you. it feels a lifetime ago to have danced through the rock-pools, searched for mermaids with wynafryd and heard stories from a father. what is left of it now ? her father lost to the lannister’s, her mother to fear and sister to plotting. who has time to play silly game with a flightful girl. and so she has learnt to grow up, to fend for herself, speak for herself ( much to her mother’s everlasting disapproval ) for there is no escape from the constant visit of war. and so when robb had ridden into white harbour, she could not help but think she’d seen a ghost; a childhood friend lost to kingship, sea-side adventures stolen by council meetings and when he’d come to see her the constant thought of war hidden between their every word. “ and i feel as though i’ve aged a thousand more. ” she attempts a smile at that, a play at a jest, not wanting to give way to the dread hanging in the air. yet even as words escape wind-chapped lips smile falters, worries for her father, her uncle, the boy before her, claw at her thoughts. and as she casts another glance towards him desperate words break from her lips, “ gods be good we’ll win, won’t we? bring my father home safe robb ------- promise. ”
@univaers sent : “ i feel as if i’ve aged a thousand years ” from robb to wylla.