moved to titaniaen

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

i’ve moved !

hello all! to those of you who followed me all those months ago, thank you ! i hope you’ll give my remade writeblr ( with updated projects + about pages ) a follow as well ! this blog is now archived, and the new blog ( @titaniaen ) will be up and active shortly .

[titaniaen-archived]

cautiously ( and a little joyfully ) eyeing the possibility that i am able to take this blog off hiatus soon...

[lamignonette]

vanessa bellini

[medicisource]

anon requested: LUCREZIA DONATI IN EVERY EPISODE | season 2 episode 6: alliance

[vavaharrison]

2.07

[bee-girlfriends]

“Take one step towards the gods and they will take ten steps towards you.”

— Mythologist Joseph Campbell

[montponine]

bring back homeric epithets. call people brave-hearted, swift-footed, laughter loving and loud thundering. view the world with its rosy fingered and saffron robed dawns, its wine dark seas. make your own, walk across kiln fired earth and moss soft as sea sponges. be dew-eyed and soft-cheeked and silver-souled, deft-fingered and bright-tongued. gaze up at the many-storied stars and feel the warmth of the ancient sun, father of gods and men, as it beats down on the shimmering world, soft spun like caterpillar silk

[noirandchocolate]

“Why does the third of the three brothers, who shares his food with the old woman in the wood, go on to become king of the country? Why does James Bond manage to disarm the nuclear bomb a few seconds before it goes off rather than, as it were, a few seconds afterwards? Because a universe where that did not happen would be a dark and hostile place. Let there be goblin hordes, let there be terrible environmental threats, let there be giant mutated slugs if you really must, but let there also be hope. It may be a grim, thin hope, an Arthurian sword at sunset, but let us know that we do not live in vain.”

— Terry Pratchett, “Let There Be Dragons” (A Slip of the Keyboard)

[titaniaen-archived]

moonglass

          a short story

As hot as the summer was, it cooled down as soon as the solemn moon had risen over the fields, round and pockmarked. An old country folktale whispered that on a full moon, its beams could be used for finding the lost and impossible. And for every folktale, there was a grain of truth.

A young man, lean and dark-haired, with a string of moonglass beads was proof enough of that. He’d found them, glinting from the moonbeams shining down on them, hidden in the hollow of a dead oak tree. He sat in between a forest and a field, running his fingers over the pale, cloudy beads. The noises they made were musical, chimelike. They hummed out over the silver-cast meadow. The man thought he had never seen anything so… pure. A satisfied grin curled upon his face as if tomorrow and its troubles didn’t exist, and he was King of the Moment of Now. For him, for now, it seemed as though he was the richest man in the world.

Perched on a rock and absorbed in his own mind, he hardly noticed the wisp of a woman, watching him keenly, silently. She was a mere stone’s throw away from him. After growing tired of seeing his rough hands on her stolen beads, her voice knifed through the moonlit night. 

“Those are mine.”

The man looked up, his calloused hands stilling. His grin dropped at the look on her face– stone-cold and imperious. She held herself tall and willowy, empress-like, though only the moonlight wreathed her head. The only flash of emotion that she held on her pearl-white face was the twist of her mouth— in rage or disgust, he couldn’t tell.

She clutched at a necklace, a cord of black at the hollow of her throat. It was only to give herself some pretense of restraint, though a cold fire of indignation smouldered in her. She kept her black eyes trained on the man, painted silver in the moonlight and dappled in shadow. He watched her just the same. 

His hands began moving again after the silence spread between the two, his grin curling and eyes narrowing while his mind whirled. She was feather-like and only a woman. But no, this slip of a woman wasn’t one he might see at some hot, dusty town square. Lost and impossible things seen in the moonlight, indeed.

“No, they’re not. I found them,” he bragged, a tilt to his head. “So they belong to me.”

Between one heartbeat and the next, she was there, as close as kissing, hand still clutched at her neck. A sharp smirk had worked its way in place of the twist of her lips, and by comparison, that had been nothing. Now her whole face was glowing with a bright, cruel light. Who is he, she thought, to steal from me and then refuse the return of what is already mine?

But at the same time, she saw a sameness, a sort of unpolished sharpness and cleverness reflected back at her. Before she could speak, he said something so brassy that she almost laughed from mirth.

“What would you give me for their return?”

She paused, almost caught off guard. She watched his face, the glint in his green eyes and the almost-clever to his mouth. It was too full of mischief, though, to truly give her pause. So she considered him, predator-like. Her own smirk grew.

And then she kissed him.

It shocked him, her unannounced payment. Her lips were cold and smooth against his, marble-like. Though she couldn’t see it, his eyes were wide and he kept completely still.

One shouldn’t move quickly around a beast wearing human skin.

And then she tore her lips away from his. She left a tingle on his lips and an emptiness in his hands. He let out a small breath that he didn’t even realize that he’d been holding.

She stepped away, her teeth bared in an allegory of a triumphant grin. She held the strand of glass beads aloft in one pale fist and rattled them, making them taunt him. It was when she was backing away that he realized that she wasn’t walking. Her feet did not touch the grass.

His blood turned cold from fear and he froze, like prey before it begins to run. 

“Witch,” he whispered hoarsely. 

She sneered at him, at his stupidity, but a part of her was laughing. She rattled the string of beads, and now their chime echoed her internal laughter.

“I told you these were mine,” she said, and her voice came from a place of cut diamonds and broken glass.

And then, between one blink and the next, she was gone, dissolved into a shaft of moonlight. The young man was left perched on his rock as if nothing had ever happened, though he almost swore a chiming, mocking laugh echoed all around him.