#In Venere Veritas

[perblog]

some him lyric glitters because i learned how to do that today :D

[valos-venus-doom]

I forgot I had this pic and I just realized it's relevant to last night's chapter. 🙃🫠

[lovevampiremh]

Update

I’m changing the Au names because why not.

Behind Heart-Shaped Glasses: BHSG 1st AU - In Venere Veritas or IVV

Rose-Red Heart String: RRHS 2nd AU - Blood Red Romance or BRR

My Bloody Valentine: MBV 3rd AU (does not change)

So blog owner here…

I’ve come to a slight dilemma. I actually have two versions of Xavier Bloodstone. And two different AUs.

The first is actually the one that’s already been started where Xavier and Kieran met back during the Vampire-Werewolf war. And they meet a few times before the final meeting that happens a few years before the events of “Why Do Ghouls Fall In Love”.

And then the second AU where they first meet during “Why Do Ghouls Fall In Love”. And it essentially stops Kieran Valentine’s plans but not Toralei’s.

I’m wondering if I should post both AUs here or not. While the first AU is more cheerful it still has a semi dark background. The second is actually a really dark AU. And I’m not sure people would want to see it.

It has slightly prevented me from actually writing for the blog. I’m going to think more on them but I’m willing to take suggestions.

[rintoki]

i just want to mark up dr ratio’s pretty little body, his probably flawless skin coloured red with bite marks, almost purple from bruising. how pretty his butt would redden after just a few spanks, a cute blush on his pale skin.

he’d try his best to swallow down the whines that threaten to escape, forcing himself not to look away as if it admits defeat. but that’s fine, because you’d prefer to look into his eyes as you push yourself into him. excruciatingly slow and bigger than what you told him; your grip keeps him from turning away, shuddering breaths as he feels his walls stretching to accommodate the size.

“you lied,” his voice quivered, eyes flickering down between your bodies and back up to your piercing gaze.

“just because the truth isn’t what you expected doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you laughed. “veritas, you know that.”

he grits his teeth, sucking in air when you push the remaining length fully into him, relishing in the way he struggles to get used to the feeling. but you don’t give him time, instead pulling out and thrusting back in in one fluid motion. the high-pitched moan that escapes his mouth surprises even the Guild member himself, an arm flying up to cover his mouth.

“well,” you breathed out, voice filled with amusement, “you would’ve known—”

a wicked smile on your lips as you thrusted your hips, again and again, “that the arrogant.”

“self-centred.” another hard push.

“doctor.” and another.

“veritas.” and another.

“ratio.” a final thrust directly hitting his prostate, the throbbing bundle of nerves sending shocks up his body. every buck of your hips eliciting yet another whiny moan, shaky breaths as he tries to compose himself to no avail. and finally, you give him a break, cock pressed deep inside him while the doctor squeezes his eyes shut.

“could make such cute sounds,” you sneered, ripping his arm from over his face to expose how red he’s gotten.

for all his intelligence and knowledge gathered from his studies, veritas ratio could not utter a single word against you—afraid that the only thing that would leave his lips is begs for you to keep going.

but his hips trembled terribly, his walls twitching and squeezing around you. you didn’t need words to know how badly he ached; his body was honest enough, with the way his cock leaked a puddle of precum onto his belly already.

slowly, you started moving again, dragging against his sensitive walls. relief floods his face at the crumbs of stimulation, already feeling the familiar heat in his lower belly building up quickly.

his mouth hangs open, panting heavily as he nears the high he so badly craves. with hands nearly tearing the sheets, the venerable doctor arches his back, toes curling tight as a searing heat fills his lower body. the whimpers that left his throat are barely registered, rapidly losing control of his own body with every push of your hips. he grits his teeth and…

nothing.

he nearly chokes from the anticipation, and now it’s been violently ripped from him as all traces of your touch leaves his body. the timing was perfect. his cock drips with cum and yet his body felt cold, twitching.

you watched on with a cruel chuckle; how he writhes on the bed, how pathetic he looks after having his orgasm ruined. a slap to his still hard and aching cock jolts him back to reality, wondering just what else do you plan to do to him.

[slowd1ving]

✦ I. PRINCE OF ARROGANCE, PRIDE HAS A HEAVY PRICE

"His fate was sealed the moment he could taste choleric resentment on his tongue, followed shortly by spite: for spite is the desire to thwart. The path he instinctually set out on—to seek knowledge about the abuses of wisdom in the palace—was one that would only end in despair. " • . * cursed prince ratio + alchemist m reader rough design for minoan fashion ratio here warnings: video game violence, death? kind of? tyranny (are we surprised), male-coded reader (or at least the in-game avatar is) wc: 1.5k

LAMENT OF OUROBOROS MASTERLIST

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Eight words rang clear on the Day of Silence against the backdrop of a fruitful year. Amidst the din of the crotalum, woven through the hordes of mute crowds, thus did the honourable Sophos Nous proclaim to His Highness: 

For all knowledge one must pay equal price. 

This was the first and last lesson Sophos Nous ever imparted unto the seventh prince of Metis before THEY left: as quietly as the noiseless festival-goers. Perhaps it would be the only lesson ever recorded to grace the Kingdom of Metis from the Sophos: a feeble mark to acknowledge the extraordinary scholar the seventh prince was. Though, the arrogant youth knew this was anything but; such an obvious deduction was no morsel of wisdom, but a reproachable grain of sophistry that any fool could have mimed. Mimed, because the Day’s hallowed silence had been broken for the first time since its inception, and perhaps that was the biggest insult of them all. 

In his wrought tower, the youngest prince of Elation’s lineage seethed. For the weeks following that sacreligious day, he barely ate, barely breathed: barely lived. From the moment of his birth to this summer, his efforts to earn the venerable Sophos’ acknowledgement had not borne fruit—and now, they probably never would. 

His damson locks tangled in his fingers as he pored over those eight words. They ripped, twisting and breaking and splitting in his desperate grasp. Those records were all he had left of the learnéd being: a measly report detailing the teacher’s crime, summarised in a single paragraph in the battered codex that was unceremoniously dumped on his desk at his request.

If he knew anything about his Sophos, it was that nothing could ever be taken at face value with THEM. Twined in all the manuscripts THEY had written—which Veritas Ratio Metis had reverently studied, every single one—were the buds of dialetheism and bivalence, threading and looping against each other like two snakes on a caduceus. 

Had he missed something?

Deconstructing the sentence literally, the price of knowledge was time and dedication. Nothing came from nothing; obviously knowledge was gained only through cogitation and learning. In less abstract terms, the hippocampus was a finite space and minute neuron connections were lost with each new wisdom gained. Though, such an axiomatic method of interpretation was sure to be fallible. 

Thus, his deft fingers wasted no time in penning a new heading: warning. Presumably, Nous wouldn’t be so kind as to bestow a lesson on the youth: not even out of pity for the erudite young mind who followed THEM around just for a glimpse into THEIR insights. No, Nous wouldn’t have spared him a glance. Therefore, it was not a teaching at all, but rather a last, merciful warning. 

Knowledge was burden. He knew this, Nous knew this—any respectable scholar in Metis knew that ignorance was more oft than not bliss, especially when it came to divinity and existentialism. This much, too, was a salient interpretation of these words. Don’t study things you aren’t ready for. The prince scoffed. A waddling baby knew as much—taking first steps primarily, before learning to run. 

Unless… Upon examining the wording, there was a critical sign in its structure. Four words on one side, four on the other—equilibrium. Life on one side, and certain death on the other. His breathing came in neurotic waves as his pen struggled to keep up with his intuition. It may have been foolish to follow his gut, but there was just something about how the lexicon flowed that dried his mouth and made his tongue leaden with foreboding. 

What is it? 

Seraphic beams of light cast their dappled rays on the gleaming equipment: bronze astrological instruments, beakers and shining ocular lenses; stacks upon stacks of manuscripts and codices, on everything from law to philosophy to anatomy; and the precariously balanced alembic and crucible in the corner, concealed by a large sheet for supposedly warding off dust. 

The gaze of cerise lingered briefly on the alchemical tools. 

Equivalent exchange. 

With a sigh so heavy it brought his youthful appearance into question, he buried his aggravated face in his trembling hands. Neither blessing or lesson was shrouded by the phrase; rather, Nous had lent him an equivocation as a final misrespect. One hint of information, and the other a warning. 

Translated, he gleaned that the Sophos referred to the rumours surrounding Aha and THEIR progeny. Archon basileus—the foolish sovereign and ever-so-foolish descendants. Though the capricious Aha had outlawed the ages-old practice of alchemy and other similar disciplines decades ago, there was hearsay in the stone-paved streets that the imperial family dabbled in activities now heretical to keep control over the populace. Whether it be through transmuting the dissidents to lustrous gold sculptures, or turning insurgents to mindless jesters through drugs and other disciplines, it was clear that Aha held keen interest in monopolising knowledge and ruling with an iron fist. 

Or, at least, that’s what Veritas heard through the reticent walls of his tower. There was no viable method of testing the theory: not when the seventh prince held minimal sway over politics in the gilt palace. 

This was the bitter fruit Nous had broken the sacred silence for. 

You are no match for your family, THEIR eye seemed to lament. 

This knowledge is far too heavy for you, boy, THEIR mouth appeared to rebuke. 

All these years, and you have still not broken from the alabaster coating of a fool, THEIR departure concluded. 

The prince had long surpassed the rest of his peers in mind and body alike, yet with this realisation he was a mere child once more: just another bastard of the lineage. Not to be taken seriously. 

His fate was sealed the moment he could taste choleric resentment on his tongue, followed shortly by spite: for spite is the desire to thwart. The path he instinctually set out on—to seek knowledge about the abuses of wisdom in the palace—was one that would only end in despair. 

But the blame could not solely be attributed to him—for despite his prideful erudition, he was no prophet. A clever mind like his had not yet tasted scholastic defeat yet, begetting carelessness. And to provoke an arrogant, clever, careless youth with no real world experience—yes, provoke, for that is what the esteemed Sophos did—was sure to birth a calamity. 

Indeed, the hubris of the seventh prince led to tragedy borne of his own making; yet, the fault also rested with another. 

This was the ‘price’. 

Two people, bound in impossible balance. 

Eight words, foretelling only disaster. 

This was ‘equivalent exchange’. 

One clever prince, seeking a knowledge far too cataclysmic to bear. 

This was the heresy known as ‘alchemy’. 

On that Day of Silence, the Moirai assigned a fate threaded bloody: all for the modest cost of one lonely prince’s grief. 

. 　⁺ ✦ 

“Oh dear,” the maiden crooned. “It looks like he’s made up his mind.”

The distaff held in HER graceful palms perpetually dripped crimson, though not a single drop bled into the spindle as SHE wove fate: pain, ecstasy, hopelessness, delight. 

“Just like the rest of them,” the matron uttered. “He is a fool.”

Unceasingly, HER rod measured out the new life-threads. SHE impersonally gazed at every strand—quantifying and fairly allotting time. Time, the most precious commodity of anything and anyone. 

The hag remained silent, for HER glinting scissors expressed HER thoughts. Snip. A thread was cut. Snip. A life was lost. Snip. Yet another soul crossed in the afterworld. 

But there was one sanguine allotment of fate that wouldn’t be cut with HER shears. Many a mortal wished for such a boon: bartering with the divine for an extension of their pathetic lives. That was a paradox SHE witnessed time and time again: humans wishing to prolong their misery through staying awake in the raging current of the universe. Death was the true alleviation of suffering—this was the one mercy SHE could afford man and their kind. 

Living and the futile struggle was all humanity had known; SHE understood, in HER omnipotent way, how this stagnancy was a comfort for the lost souls. 

Though, SHE mused, staying alive would not do this particular prince any good. For what gift is evading death, when one cannot truly live?

“It would have been better for him to live under the yoke of his family and die as all mortals should.” The crone’s withered voice was dry from disuse. Under HER shroud, neither the mother nor the youth could see the aged path of tears that meandered down HER wrinkled face—for with age came sentiments, and the Moirai were the oldest of all in the cradle of the universe. 

“Atropos.” It was the maiden who finally replied. “Do you feel sorry for the boy?”

Snip. Another marked fate concluded—though not abruptly, for it had been ordained since the moment of their birth. 

“No,” the beldame answered. “The little prince was warned by a being far wiser than he, taking it only as affront.”

For the first time in centuries, HER shears ceased their steady rhythm. 

“Should I feel sorry for the hart that approaches the arrow out of its own volition?”

. 　⁺ ✦ 

[realcleverscience]

I am obsessed with "Dr. Stone"

Background: Dr. Stone is an anime about a reality in which all humans on earth are suddenly turned to stone. Civilization is gone, and most of its remains slowly decay and disappear as eons go by. After around 3,000 years, the protagonist, Senku, is suddenly reborn; we find that he cracks out of his stone statue form, like a chick cracking through its egg. The world he finds is described as a world of stone: Human stone statues are still everywhere, but more importantly, the world is similar to how it was in the stone age: plants, rocks, and nature. No real science or technology to speak of. The essence of the show is about Senku's attempt to rebuild a scientific civilization from scratch, while fighting off those who'd prefer a more brute-force, Neanderthal-like approach to life.

What I love: In ancient times, it was common to personify and deify various cultural values, such as truth (Roman goddess Veritas), justice (Lady Justice, or Justitia), and Wisdom/science (Egyptian god Thoth; Greek goddess Athena).

Today, these gods are gone. And with them, the culture and allegorical stories that inspired veneration for the values and ideas they represented.

One of the things that I love about Dr. Stone is that it's a modern day ode to science. It's a romantic vision of the wonders and potential of science, which is all around us today but vastly underappreciated and often misunderstood. It helps us see the magic of science by more easily envisioning a world without it - the world which science did in fact conquer through our actual, real history. It more easily allows us to marvel at the technologies we developed - like soap, light bulbs, and glass - using such primitive materials as wood, water, and stone.

And yes, it's just a show. It's not always 100% scientifically, historically, or technologically accurate, but it manages to convey the main ideas, and again, offers a beautiful metaphor.

[tantrayam]

Если вы не слышали, как поет Вилле Вало под акустику - слушайте (ссылки на треки вк).

In Venere Veritas

Poison Heart

For You

The Funeral Of Hearts

Такая он сладкая булочка... А можно растаять в туманах оттенков его голоса?

[writteninveritas]

Let's put some fun on here!

Pick a song for every letter in your url, then tag as many people as there are letters!

I was tagged by @daughter-of-cha0s - Thank you sm 🥰

w: witch image - ghost

r: running up that hill - kate bush

i: immortal - the rasmus

t: the beginning of the end - him

t: throne - bring me the horizon

e: echolocate your love - vv

n: never let me down again - depeche mode

i: I want it all - queen

n: niente da dire - måneskin

v: vampire girl - misfits

e: equalize - pitty

r: razões e emoções - nxzero

i: in venere veritas - him

t: tears don't fall - bullet for my valentine

a: all the small things - blink 182

s: s/c/a/r/e/c/r/o/w - my chemical romance

(Gosh, some people I follow have already been mentioned so I'll only put 11 lovers here!)

I'm tagging: @readerconfused @aquioluizh @expectroelle @leora1004 @saturnaliasaturnine @mirab @missdior666 @senseofd0ubt @vampireswifes @darklightshadows @foreverlostinyou 🖤

[secondbreakfastwizard]

Ask game #23 😄

<3 that's In Venere Veritas by HIM

[valos-venus-doom]

In Venere Veritas - Ch. 4

https://www.wattpad.com/1330358999-in-venere-veritas-chapter-4-wounds-that-are-not

[strayraccoon]

Part 1 of RatioxOC fic. Will post the whole thing later. Disclaimer: minimal knowledge of warhammer40k

Another day, another useless ‘academic’ conference. If it weren’t at the urges of the venerated foundation of Veritas Prime University, Ratio wouldn’t have graced the sham of academic conference with his presence. He knew very well his attendance was merely of promotional purposes (as to attract more attention).  

But of course, he had to attend the conference regardless. For one, it’s a mandatory activity. An educator/teacher/lecturer at Veritas Prime are obliged to attend/present at least one academic conference annually (by IPC standard time). It’s part of point system that forces the members of Veritas Prime to be active in academic community. It has its uses, Ratio admitted. Such system prevents researchers from simply holing up in their basement forever.

Second reason, although it’s a more wistful thinking for Ratio’s part, he was hoping to find talent in the academic conference. A diamond in the rough. A true talented person among the sham. But alas, his hopes were dashed all the more too often. Most presentation in the conference were mostly repetition of old research. The only ‘new’ thing they presented is that they applied the Amber Eras old theories to recent subjects.

Ratio massaged his temple. He could have used the better part of the week actually teaching his classes.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Beep! Beep! Beep!

The noise of the spaceship’s alarm broke Ratio from his somnolence. He set down his terminal, which he previously used to read his students’ research progress. Yet another disturbance to his thought process. Regardless, Ratio had to leave the small living room to the bridge. His personal spaceship do not have much room, but it was enough to accommodate him (and his collection of books).

Ratio sat on the pilot’s seat, accessing the control panel. He turned off the alarm, then proceeded to check the ship’s system, assessing what caused the alarm to blare off out of nowhere. It was neither damage to the ship’s system or hardware, but rather something external.

A ship floating in the empty aether.

The doctor considered for a moment. He had never seen the type of the ship before. It was certainly not one of the standard IPC spaceships, nor it belonged to the planetary system he was familiar with. The spaceship was, to put it in a word, unnecessarily flashy. The exterior was gilded in gold and decorated with skulls.

“What in Amber Walls is this…” Ratio mumbled with a hint of confusion.

Space pirates perhaps? Those types liked to send fake S.O.S signal to attract merchant vessels, only to turn coat against them. Perhaps the floating waste of space before him was pretending to be a derelict ship, with numerous barbarians waiting in lay beyond the airlock.

Still, what if there was someone truly in need? His conscience wouldn’t let him live off with that knowledge.

Therefore, in matter of minutes, Ratio’s spaceship had already locked in and Ratio himself was ready in the airlock. He had sent messages to the other ship, warning them of his arrival. Obviously, his messages fell on deaf ears.

“Look here, handsome. This is clearly an attempt to board our vessel. Beyond that airlock is definitely space pirates. Don’t try to be a hero and just leave this flashy spaceship alone.” Ratio’s Logic started.

Another voice replied, it’s the Emotion, “Are you being serious or are you being a doofus? What if there’s someone in need of help? Maybe they are too weak to answer to our call.”

“Doofus yourself, don’t cry to me when we’re hostage to barbarians. What would happen to our students then? I don’t see anyone else in the damn universe that could peer review their research.” Logic spat.

“They will manage. If they cannot go on without our guidance, then they have no reason to be researching in the first place. But we digress.” Emotion continued. “Now, the person on the other side of the airlock. They won’t survive unless we intervene.”

Logic scoffed with a gusto,“Ah, yes. What does it benefit us? You always say something along the line of ‘helping those in need’ and all those goody-two-shoes reasons. Give me something else. Otherwise, I won’t concede.”

“Alright, since you asked for it, genius. If there’s pirate, that’s that. We’ll just propel off with our automatic flight system. If not, we can discern where did this vessel come from. Clearly we haven’t seen this kind of spaceship model. We may encounter new galactic community. Oh, and saving the crew too, I guess.”

“Ha!”

“Come now. At the worst case scenario, we find empty vessel with dead crew. We’ll just take the flight data and black box. Then report to IPC space marines about this encounter. Let them take over from there. We can go back to our daily lives without entertaining what ifs.”

“Okay, okay. You won. This time.”

Without hesitation, Ratio pressed the airlock button. Still, he had a beam gun ready on one hand, just in case. What welcomed him into the mysterious derelict ship was neither a group of space pirates nor it was the deranged barbarians. Instead, he was met with eerie silence.

Ratio entered the derelict ship rather awkwardly, as he was wearing space suit. An obvious thing to do, since he wasn’t sure whether the air circulation system was working to begin with. Considering the leaking steam from the pipes on the walls, it may be failing.

However, the doctor had no time to ponder on trivial matters. He stepped out of the airlock and found himself in a long hallway. Just like the exterior, the interior of the spaceship was painfully flashy. The corridor walls were glistening, the doors were gilded in gold, red carpet laid upon the floor, and skulls serving as decoration.

Since the spaceship was of similar size with his own, he could predict the layout. Although it wasn’t exactly carbon copy of his own spaceship, Ratio found several rooms serving as storage, workshop, living room/ bed room, and command center / office. Obviously, the furniture were unnecessarily luxurious.

Judging from the size of the ship and the available rooms, the vessel seemed to be accommodating a small number of crew members, if not just one person. Solo traveling wasn’t as dangerous as it used to be in several Amber Eras ago, and there were more solo-spaceships in production. Perhaps the occupant of the ship enjoyed such trips.

Still, it was too soon to draw conclusion. Ratio entered the office room to find several envelopes on the office table. The envelopes were untouched. Without feeling any remorse, Ratio opened the envelopes only to find documents with unfamiliar characters. It was certainly not IPC standard nor any other characters he knew of. No, it was something new.

“Perhaps we are indeed dealing with new galactic community. Good find, doctor.” Ratio spoke to himself with satisfied tone.

“There’s still the crew. I don’t think you need reminder.” Emotion spoke.

The second to the last door, had unfamiliar characters on it. However, with the sound of creaking and hissing coming behind it, Ratio could easily guess that it was the engine room. He tapped on a button beside the door and accessed the room with ease. 

He didn’t venture too far from the door.

The engine room was on the verge of failing. Steams leaking out of the pipes, sparks of electricity from cables hanging off the ceiling. Ratio wasn’t concerned about those, as something else caught his attention.

The entire room was filled with glossy gas-like substance. When Ratio blinked, he swore he saw images of something inside the engine room. Tentacles. Grotesque creatures with multiple eyes and mouths in places it shouldn’t be. The creature phased in and out, being ethereal and physical at the same time.

Ratio stepped out of the engine room and closed the door right when the tentacles attempted to reach out to him. The doctor gingerly stepped away until his back hit the other side of the corridor.

“What was that?” Ratio finally managed after catching his breath.

“Didn’t I say so, handsome? We’re getting into trouble.” Logic Ratio scoffed.

“Was that really the engine room? What was those creatures? They looked so real and yet ephemeral at the same time.” Emotion Ratio chimed in, “Was this the reason why the ship was abandoned?”

Logic Ratio quickly interjected, “We haven’t seen any proof yet.”

“This may sound crazy,” Ratio added, “Would it be so outlandish if we assume that those creatures are part of the engine room to begin with? Some of them seemed to be fused into the engine.”

“Nahhh…” “What crack are you on?”

“I’m going to need a whole day bath after this.” Ratio tried to massage his temple, but his gloved fingers only found the glass protector of his helmet. So instead, the doctor merely shook his head and decided not to meddle with the engine room again. For a blessing, the creatures did not go beyond the door.

After composing himself, Ratio headed towards the last door in the corridor. He put his hand on the control panel and opened the door. The moment the door gave way, thick white fog flooded out of the room. If Ratio wasn’t wearing protective suit, he would succumb to the coldness of the fog.

Based on the fog alone, Ratio could discern the function of the room. His hypothesis was proven right away the moment the fog dissipates. The darkness of the room could not very well hide the familiar shaped cold-sleep coffin.

Nobody answered Ratio’s call, because nobody could answer. The proof was right in front of him at the time. The cold-sleep coffin was in use. There was no way the occupant could be aware of engine problem and communication. Although, any good spacefaring system would have forced the occupant to wake in case of emergencies. Even then, the system wasn’t immune to fallacies.

Ratio wiped the glass window of the coffin, allowing him to see the occupant. All he could see from the small window, was a small face of a young girl with raven locks. Her sleep looked disturbed, as if she was having shallow dreams instead of deep sleep that sleeping pods would provide.

“Just the one?” Emotion started.

Logic immediately answered, “It’s pretty obvious there’s nobody else. There’s only one coffin in this room. We didn’t see any other crew members either. The existing furniture and facilities indicate this ship is indeed designed for single passenger.”

“Look, the girl just shifted. Even the cryogenics system starts failing? Otherwise she wouldn’t be making such disturbed face.” Emotion pointed out.

“What caused the system failures, I wonder. This ship doesn’t look that old, clearly it’s newly produced. I’d give it good two or three years. Unless the design is utter garbage this ship should last a decade or two.” Logic pondered, then he continued, “Perhaps the things in the engine room was the source of the system failure?”

“No, no. In the first place. What was the things to begin with?” Emotion pursued.

“Mysteries upon mysteries.” Ratio commented, he looked at the coffin’s control panel. Despite the foreign characters, he could discern the occupant’s vital sign. “We wouldn’t know unless we wake the--”

HISSSSS

“What was that?” Ratio started, but he did not have time to think, as the ship started shaking and the engine hissed violently. It wouldn’t take long before the system truly failed.

Ratio had to work fast.

[slowd1ving]

LAMENT OF OUROBOROS . 　⁺ MASTERLIST

"Forsaken is he who disregards the warnings of a wise man. Hark! gather round—for this is the ode of the seventh prince of Metis. Let this elegy be your lesson: a final cautionary tale of a cursed prince forgotten in even the annals of history. Hubris blinded seventh prince Veritas Ratio, and for that he paid a bitter price. Sit, bear witness to the truths spun by the Moirai—lest you too would like to partake in his tragic fate." • . * cursed prince ratio + alchemist m reader possibly my magnum opus (not just because I finally figured out how to do the gradient thing :3) rough design for minoan fashion ratio here map for key regions (very rough, done on mspaint but whatever) warnings: video game violence, death? kind of? tyranny (are we surprised), male-coded reader (or at least the in-game avatar is)

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

✦ I. PRINCE OF ARROGANCE, PRIDE HAS A HEAVY PRICE;

→ Where it all begins. The venerable Sophos Nous leaves the prince with eight words, and the youth decides his destiny over them.

"His fate was sealed the moment he could taste choleric resentment on his tongue, followed shortly by spite: for spite is the desire to thwart. The path he instinctually set out on—to seek knowledge about the abuses of wisdom in the palace—was one that would only end in despair. "

✦ II. COME HITHER, CURSE WHERE HE LIES.

→ Where it all ends. The prince's scheme germinates, flourishes and withers as quietly as he.

"This was the tale of the seventh prince; an elegy hidden from the footnotes of history. Within the game Lament of Ouroboros, his sorrows were summarised thusly:

A strangely warm vein of ore. 

Hero, come here when dusk kisses the edge of the Borderlands. As your palm brushes against the rock, you may be able to feel the pulse of a slumbering prince. 

Three sentences were all that was afforded to the disgraced prince, forgotten to all but the Moirai."

✦ III. OH, HOW TRAGIC IS HE;

→ You are luckier than he is. You are unluckier than he is. For though your end is painful and futile, there is no lingering in limbo for the rest of your eternity.

"It was an accident. 

“I’m sorry. Ah, shit—” Something wet splashed your cheek, followed by a fumbling hand that tried to brush it away but only succeeded in smearing the thin liquid across your face awkwardly. “Don’t— fuck, I’ll stay with you, alright?” 

Fingers wrapped around your own, flesh against bone. Pulsing life alongside a silent end. 

The last thing on your lips was an apology, in the form of a salty tear dripping from above."

✦ IV. WEEP FOR HIM, I BID OF THEE.

→ The folly of man and god alike. Sophos Nous is not above being wrong.

"Ratio had not been man for a millennium. He had not heard, not seen, not felt, not tasted, nor smelled, for a thousand years. 

It began with a faint frequency that droned in the very recesses of the stone. A buzz, or a low hum, resonated as though he could hear the very orbitals of electrons whirring in each atom. At this point, the background levels of his simulations had ceased—for this was far more important. 

For the first time in centuries, the sluggish pulse that still beat in his undead chest had quickened, just a little."

✦ V. HE IS THE MOST PITIFUL OF MEN;

→ All things must part in the end. Fear not, for we shall meet again.

"The stagnancy was broken once more. Lips pursed in displeasure, and the face shrouded by the shadows of the night disappeared back into the darkness. He who remained asleep was none the wiser—caught in the throes of surgeless rest. 

In the morning, the sculptor would stumble into the chilly studio—waking up with strangely light shoulders and an unclouded mind—only to find his magnum opus gone. Within the chalky base remained the imprints of footsteps, as though the statue had merely walked away. The cold glass skin of juice shattered against the flagstones: seeping a bleeding red into a pristine pathway.

Just like in his restless dreams, that figure left him far behind once again."

✦ VI. FOR NONE SHED TEARS FOR THE FORSAKEN.

→ tba.

[valos-venus-doom]

I’m now on AO3!

I will now be posting to both WattPad & AO3 (as I still have followers on WattPad)

So if you need Ville Valo fanfic to read, I have 3 stories (1 completed, 2 in the works). Here is a link to my most recent:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46203484/chapters/116318866

(also please be gentle with my completed fic, it’s like 11 years old, I’m aware it’s a little cringey/fluffy BUT I stand by the plot and the smut)

[winefromyourtears]

there are wounds that aren't meant to heal at all