FERENDO VOS VINCAM.

[scorpiowrote-deactivated2021111]

“You think a girl would say no to the gorgeous, dangerous, brooding man who offered her his kingdom and his love?All she had to do was take a bite of the delicious fruit that would damn her and at the same time, let her ascend.A heartbroken mother and a world she never felt quite right in was hardly a downfall for what she would gain.“Be my queen, forever.”Not only did he promise love and jewels, he offered her the power to make her own decisions, a sense of freedom in a world made of rules and chains, and any woman would take it.”

— Persephone ate the fruit and never looked back (b.a.s)

[fell-reverie-deactivated2026051]

Tao Okamoto

[deceptivelips]

Some days, I wonder if you miss me. Other days, I wonder why I’m still wondering.

(via deceptivelips)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Have you forgotten me? I am the one you used to say you loved. I used to sleep in your arms – do you remember?

Dylan Thomas, from a letter to Caitlin Thomas wr. c. March 1950 (via cleopatrawrites)

[philosophybits]

You act like mortals in all that you fear, and like immortals in all that you desire.

Seneca, On the Shortness of Life (via cleopatrawrites)

[theliteraryjournals]

He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.

Markus Zusak, The Book Thief (via cleopatrawrites)

[lyssahumana]

Tao!

[modelsof-color]

Tao Okamoto by Inez & Vinoodh for WSJ September 2018

[mashamorevna]

This is what it means to be a woman in this world. Every step is a bargain with pain. Make your black deals in the black wood and decide what you’ll trade for power.

Catherynne M. Valente, Six-Gun Snow White (via cleopatrawrites)

[luthienne]

…our hurt is quiet and our hearts tamed,

H.D. from Collected Poems; “Sea Heroes” (via cleopatrawrites)

[wordsthat-speak]

I don’t think people love me. They love versions of me I have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. The easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love. Who’s going to love the girl that can’t stop crying? The girl that hurts herself? The girl that is losing control? The girl that is so sad she can’t get out of bed? The girl that keeps pushing everyone away? Who’s going to love the monster in me, who’s going to love me now?

Unknown (via cleopatrawrites)

[loveofromance]

[meiselr]

I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” he says and she knows it‘s true. He starts again, presses, “I wanted you to be mine.” She laughs and admits, “I was yours all along.

r.m | Excerpts #43 (via cleopatrawrites)

[yuna-tsuki]

DATE: Late Aries, 998 A.L. LOCATION: Paol Palace STATUS: closed for @seraphimslayer

The look of him alone reminded her of why Yuna never liked him since the beginning. Those eyes were dangerous, and not because Asif was undeniably beautiful — because they promised destruction and ruin, because she was convinced that if she ever looked in them for a moment too long, he would swallow her whole and spit out her bones.

Seeing him now, as a grown woman, reminded her of what it was like to be a child. Unashamed of her brilliance, arrogant in her claim to the throne. The years had changed her, and she was surprised to see that it had hardly changed him. He was as foreboding as he’d ever been… perhaps even more now.

She wanted to ignore him, slide past Asif without ever speaking a word — but he might have information, too. (A temporary thrill rushed through her; she had forgotten what it was like to have such a sharp sense of purpose, of a mission.)

She approached as if he had no effect on her at all. “Asif, it's good to see you again.” A warm smile, a quick laugh. “You look exactly the same after all these years.” — Like a monster.

[yuna-tsuki]

DATE: Late Aries, 998 A.L. LOCATION: Paol Palace STATUS: closed for @daphnepaol

The question, Yuna thought as she entered the Paol palace, is how much Daphne deserves to know.

It was a terrible balance to maintain, an alliance with a neighboring kingdom and a love affair with a god. She must protect her people and her love both, and so each step was made carefully, gingerly as if she was on a tightrope suspended in the clouds. If she slipped — Yuna wasn’t sure which was more terrifying to lose.

But she was sure that Daphne could not be trusted. When she curtsied before the throne, she recalled Daphne’s blatant flirtation with Ilo. Wondered, with a prick of jealousy, if Daphne had as much to lose as she. Wondered how Daphne, the Paol child who was always last to be noticed, seemed to have everything Yuna wanted now.

Except for the name Magnus.

“Your Highness,” Yuna said somberly, without a smile and without mirt, “I've come to discuss the events of the ball.”

[yuna-tsuki]

celestiallan‌:

The foreboding chaos that had occurred only riled up the cold collected anger of the Mercury Angel. Times like these called for immediate control, dissipation of the public’s fear and outcry. And yet, Lan only managed to clench his jaw and swallow his spit - his tongue quieting those who were prodding stakes at him as if was their fault a prophecy was foretelling such a future. 

But regardless of the gossip that spiraled forth around the halls - there was only one persons opinion that concerned him. The memory of his response burned like a candle to his forehead. His own refusal had left him bitter. The turmoil of obeying his responsibilities rather than confessing the truth to the princess he loves was like driving a knife to his soul. 

How frustrating this all was - how he wished to bury himself back within his archives, locked away undisturbed. And yet here he was, maintaining the little control he could over the rampage of doubt. Truly, perhaps none of this would have occurred if Selene was capable of abandoning the thing she needed to - that awful wretched sister of hers. The tides would have been more favorable, the longevity of a prosperous kingdom secured. And yet she had chosen otherwise and everyone else would pay for the choice. Lan included, and he seethed, gritting his teeth as he worked his magic on the mortals who dared question the angels loyalties. 

But it was only the Tsuki Princess’s presence where he was able to quell the thunderous storm in his ears. The softness of her voice - one that he knew came with an ache of something more than just longing. Her voice, snapped him back into his composure, wrath subduing as the fog cleared from his eyes. The raven haired man turned to meet her gaze, her appearance shining like a beacon before his eyes. He remembered to breathe again. “As it is my pleasure, your highness,” he murmured in response. The longer his gaze lingered, the more he hungered to call her toward him properly - titles aside, places aside, just Yuna. 

“Yes,” he responds, “your highness,” the protocol being one incessant barrier after another. How Lan longed to claim her his and his alone. But of course, the one thing his heart and soul sought out for was forbidden. It was as if fate mocked him, gifted with eternal life came hand in hand with eternal misery. It had been easier to be numb but he was slowly forgetting the painstaking procedures of hardening his heart. 

He beckoned her, weaving through the corridors toward the most secluded hallways he memorized. Silence remained as to avoid suspicions. His mind recalled the cordial tone of her greeting, from an exterior it could be presumed as kind. But he knew Yuna better than that, understood the vocal strains in her voice enough to know her displeasure. When Lan had fallen in love he had spent his time adoring her, every facet of her existence - flaws and all.  His patience was wearing thin but soon all the other mortals and distractions were out of sight and out of mind. 

And in a heartbeat, Lan was undone. 

His arms held her form in the shadows, relishing in the heat of her embrace and the grief of his own mistakes. “I’m sorry,” the sound of his voice a whisper made only for her ears. He stepped back, hands held, pupils intently met hers. “What shall I do to earn your forgiveness?”

 Lan could do anything for her. All she had to do was ask. 

They walked in silence, and Yuna found herself drowning in it. She had fallen in love with Lan first in these quiet moments, tucked between conversations that spanned hours upon glorious hour as she tried to make a home for herself in Lan’s mind. She’d done it to understand him, to see the world as he did.

These quiet moments were everything to Yuna. What was more comforting than to rest in peace with the person who made your heart whole?

She answered her question as quickly as she asked it: Perhaps trusting they are hiding nothing from you. The silence was dark and bitter now, a knife held to her throat and pressed deeper with each passing second. Held for ransom, perhaps their love was better left for dead.

— oh, the thought wounded her. How could Yuna turn away from Lan, who was as much a part of herself as her kingdom was? Tsuki and the stars, they had become one and the same. It was cruel to have to choose between both. She could not bear to make Lan choose, either. So she chose another route, hoping to win everything she wanted without making any sacrifices along the way. The crown and the throne would never be hers; she had made her peace with it.

But to lose love, too? For the sake of the very same people who had so quickly forsaken her? For the sake of her father who had silenced her? (She tried not to think of Kou. She tried not to imagine the disappointment in his eyes once he learned of how willing she was to manipulate those around her, for her gain.)

When he embraced her, a deep sigh came from Yuna’s lips. This was what she’d wanted: Lan in her arms, his lips at her ear, that familiar warmth spreading throughout her body. How could she have ever thought she belonged anywhere else?

And how could he have betrayed that, by lying to her? By making a fool of her, by making a fool of the life she lived and the love she held so sacred?

She didn’t know how to answer his question — wasn't even sure if she wanted to. Did Yuna even want to forgive him?

She must. She must, because she could not bear to lose him.

“I don’t know,” Yuna answered honestly, knowing Lan would see through any lie she could give. To win the battle, she must spin a story from half-truths and heartfelt emotion. It would be easy; the depth of emotion she had for Lan was boundless with heartbreak and adoration both.

“But even through all of this, I can’t stand to be away from you,” she whispered, meeting his eyes without masking her pain. Let it be her bait, let it draw him in until she could dig her nails in deep and make her play. She kissed him, desperately — as if the moon itself threatened to devour Lan go, as if he was never to be hers again.

When she pulled away, Yuna was breathless. Touching her forehead to his, she whispered, “I love you, Lan, even when it aches.”

All of it was true; all of it was a lie. But was there a difference anymore?

[yuna-tsuki]

whiteknightendymion‌:

Yuna held the elegance and beauty of a queen, Endymion was sure of that. What he was also definitive about was her intelligence, and perhaps that was what made him so hesitant around her presence. It was always the silent ones that he had to watch out for; the ones who knew when to hold their tongue and listened, observed, rather than speak. Yuna’s eyes were calculating when she studied him, but Endymion remained to be stalwart in his stance, expressions carefully picked clean of any obvious dubiety. 

As Yuna’s delicate fingers rested in the crook of Endymion’s elbow, he looked forward and walked in comfortable silence. Endymion could feel the glances she stole in his peripheral vision, making him wonder if she saw him the way he saw her; a question waiting to be answered, a problem itching to be solved. 

It was not out of malice or superiority that defined how careful he was around her, but a simple curiosity that derived from mistrust of a person he did not know. Since he was responsible for Selene’s safekeeping, a woman whose death would devastate an entire nation, it was in Endymion’s blood to tread carefully in an unknown situation. 

The question that left Yuna’s mouth was conversational - an attempt at being friendly, he supposed. With soft eyes, Endymion glanced over towards her to be met with a warm gaze that could melt the hearts of most people she came into contact with. A smile graced his face, one of genuineness, though it hid his inquisitive incertitude. 

“I do, Yuna.” Her name left his tongue like melted chocolate. “Balls are beautiful, and everyone is always wearing their best clothing. They’re events of lavish excellence,” and information, Endymion didn’t say, “but I am never in the center of a crowd at dances. I enjoy my time on the sidelines. There is a certain amusement in watching other people come to life rather than to be one of those people.”

“Why do you want to figure me out, Yuna?” Endymion asked, part amusement and part skepticism in his voice. “There is no fun when everyone knows who you truly are. There is fun in the mystery, Yuna, and something tells me that you would agree.” he replied with a quirk in his smile. 

Could angels come down quietly, too? Was there such thing as a gentle god? The only celestials Yuna had ever known expected worship above all, and her people were often ready to give it. It was what immortals demanded of them: their obedience, their adoration. And yet Endymion was like no celestial she had ever known — even Lan, who held her tender heart so firmly in his hand and won her devotion without ever asking for it. Lan, who demanded respect with one withering look and a curl of his lip. Lan, who could ruin her with a smile as well as he belittled others with a sneer.

No, she couldn’t picture Endymion doing either. She believed him, when he spoke of making a home on the sidelines. She believed him, with his gentle mannerisms and warm smiles. She could not imagine him speaking with passion, laughing with abandon, weeping with devastation.

She could see why he was appointed Selene’s guard. Endymion exuded a mildness that could be counted on, a level-headed sense of calm that persisted in chaos.

Fleetingly, Yuna wondered how Endymion saw her.

“I understand, though that may surprise you,” she admitted — surprising herself with her own honesty. “I am most myself when no one is watching. The trouble is,” Yuna smiled up at him and squeezed his arm with a subtle camaraderie, “they are always watching, it seems.”

“It doesn’t surprise me at all, that you prefer the sidelines,” she continued. “It suits you: a pair of eyes that sees all, protects all. Is that right?”

The underlying suspicion in his voice was clear, and Yuna bristled slightly at the sound of it. And his comment was far too accurately-aimed for comfort — something tells me that you would agree. Did he dare to accuse an imperial princess of keeping secrets? Did he dare to seek them out?

“Am I to stand under trial for making conversation, my lord?” Yuna laughed softly, deftly burying her emotional reaction with a far more pleasant one. “I only hope to make sure tonight goes magically for all of our guests, including yourself.”