#V. An Eternal Blazing Sky

[alexandraxsuoh]

Young, hot, muscular, super funny and charming and strong, eyes like the ocean and hair like fire (omg who could that dreamy man be idkkkk)

"I can already tell it's Roy we're talking about." It wasn't hard to know since there wasn't many guys going by the description. "If he's okay with having me, I would date him."

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?” Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[nintendocompositions]

finally finished remixing my first fighting game mix, EVERYONE EVERYTHING IS REMIXED!! I had a blast making this and I can't wait for MVC FIGHTING COLLECTION AAAAAAAAAAA thanks for listening!!

Street Fighter Alpha 3 EX (Hideki Okugawa) - Theme of Q Tekken 3 (Nobuyoshi Sano, Keiichi Okabe) - Eddy Gordo Darkstalkers 3 (Takayuki Iwai) - Deserted Chateau (Arranged Ver.) Super Street Fighter IV (Hideyuki Fukasawa) - Theme of Dan Super Street Fighter IV (Hideyuki Fukasawa) - Theme of Dudley Marvel Vs. Capcom (Masato Kouda) - Theme of Morrigan Ultra Street Fighter IV (Hideyuki Fukasawa) - Theme of Poison Tekken Tag Tournament 2 (Namco Sound Team*) - Eternal Paradise (Fiji) Super Street Fighter IV (Hideyuki Fukasawa) - Solar Eclipse (Africa) Street Fighter V (Keiki Kobayashi) - Kanzuki Beach (Malaysia) Tekken 5: Dark Resurrection (Akitaka Tohyama) - Estrada da Estrela (Meteor Shower) Street Fighter 6 (Shigeyuki Kameda) - zilra zilra (Blanka’s Theme) Street Fighter X Tekken (Hideyuki Fukasawa) - Jurassic Era Research Area Tekken 8 (mifumei) - Streak of Blue (Seaside Resort) Tekken Tag Tournament 2 - IT’S NOT A TUNA! (Bountiful Sea) Tekken 8 (mifumei) - Ortiz Farm (Golden Meadow) Street Fighter X Tekken - Cosmic Elevator Tekken Tag Tournament 2 (Namco Sound Team*) - Abyss of Time (Wayang Kulit) Tekken Tag Tournament 2 (Namco Sound Team*) - Siga (Tropical Rainforest) Tekken Tag Tournament 2 (Namco Sound Team*) - What You Will See (Heavenly Garden) (Benton Remix)

SAMPLES: *Akitaka Tohyama, Nobuyoshi Sano, Keiichi Okabe, Rio Hamamoto, Taku Inoue, and Go Shiina 1 9 0 5, Former City Records - Recorddeals 3BallMTY - Inténtalo Amor Satyr & Siu Mata - Nah Anitta - Lose Ya Breath Anitta - Funk Rave Azealia Banks - Anna Wintour BADSISTA ft. JUJULIETE - BAGUNÇA MINHA B***** Bianca Oblivion ft. Thai Chi Rosé & Dyer MC - Bad Gyal Capcom Vs. SNK 2 (Satoshi Ice) - True Love We’re Makin’ (London) Charli xcx - Everything is Romantic Da Brat ft Notorious BIG & JD - Da B Side Kali Uchis - Dame Beso//Muévete KiNK, Kei - Nagore (Original Mix) Lone - Approaching Rainbow Lone - Blue Moon Tree Major Lazer ft Nina Sky & Ricky Blaze - Keep It Goin’ Louder MC Juninho do Complexo - Olhou Sorriu Otira - Take Me Street Fighter III 3rd Strike (Capcom Sound Team) - Beats in My Head (Elena Stage) Tekken 2 (Yoshie Arakawa, Yoshie Takayanagi) - Almost Frozen (Antarctica) Tekken 4 (Yu Miyake) - Kitsch (Beach) Tkay Maids - 24k Zsela - Earlier Days (Sunship Remix)

Also on SoundCloud! Thanks for listening!

[avatarkadaj-fr]

results of the Halloween hatchbatch - keeping!

plushie - xyy maize/pearl (stitched/patchwork/underbelly) coatl - applied button eyes to really sell the "plushie" idea. really happy with cuddles & perlyna's nest - might pull cuddles out of retirement for more plushie coatl babies but since I have 3 now (Halloween, dabi, and now plushie), im content for the time being. need a scroll of eternal youth for her

ghost - black/lead/orca (leopard/clouded/stained) fathom - tukar/nightmoth don't miss with their babies!! v happy again, and of course i want a scroll of eternal youth for her too

deadly nightshade - nightshade/abyss/indigo (strike/coil/antlers) dusthide - very happy with her color combo as well but might change her prim/sec

creeping orchid - orchid/sky/blue (sailfish/coil/antlers) dusthide - originally same primary as nightshade but I had a spare sailfish on hand so I went ahead and applied it to him since it looked so good!

spooky - eldritch/plum/peridot guardian (leopard/blaze/peacock) - i like his "villain" colors, but not his gene combo, so I'm gonna make him a veilspun to go with riot

cider - one off xyy! oilslick/caramel/sand nocturne (tide/patchwork/underbelly) - was hoping for a plushie nocturne but no dice - but he has workable colors, a good result from Halloween & October

riot - phthalo/cream/peridot mirror (basicx3) - my plague egg hatch :3 going to scry her as a veilspun to go with spooky!

[alexandraxsuoh]

The voice startled her. Was she too concentrate on trying to choose flowers? Yes. "I-In all honestly, I've no idea.. What would you recommend for giving to a friend?"

@alexandraxsuoh Liked for a one-liner from Elise.

"So...did you choose what kind of flower you would like miss?"

[finitevoid]

Bart isn't sure that he's human in the same way Ed and Tim are. He's not even not-human in the same way Jaime and Gar are; nor is he blessed with the godly touch of the Greek pantheon the way Cassie is. Cassie breathes ash and ozone. She blazes like fire, and an exhaled breath and a clenched fist burn fourth degree. She is iron-tasting bloodshed and violent chaos-- screams shouted from the rooftops-- righteous fury incarnate, and it shows in the way fire licks at the back of her throat.

Bart isn't that, though. He's not anything; he's just here. Vibrating insanity. Lightning strikes a tree in the middle of a field, and that's Bart. Mountains are leveled by a thousand years of erosion, and that's Bart. Rome fell; Earthgovernment rose; people died; people lived; and now there is Bart. A piece of a wider, wilder whole, broken off and given life. It's kind of like the stories, he thinks, staring at his reflection in the glass. His eyes glow like neon lightning, illuminated golden acid yellow.

It's kind of funny. It's like Max said: when a speedster dies, the world mourns. But the words can't hold the truth of Bart's memory. The way the sky cracked open, and from the wound poured eternity. Boundless, electric forever, screaming and lashing at the ground below. He laughed when Wally died, because it was just so funny. It was funny how the ground shook and that moment-- that tiny utterance of a picosecond-- stretched on forever. How it existed simultaneously at every moment that any being has ever breathed with life and burned calories in order to move their heavy flash sack bodies.

Bart remembers lightning; and he remembers screaming; and he remembers the smell of blood; and he remembers watching the breeze fly past him, a smear of black on the wind, too fast for him to see. He remembers the way Wally clawed at the soil as that shadow dragged him off into eternity. And he remembers laughing.

We all come from it, and we all will return to it, Max told him.

Rushing ants on their tiny anthill. Termites in the wood. Bees in their hives, crawling over each other. That's all they are. That's all anything is.

What had Klarion called it? The Vastness. Capital V. It owns them. It holds them. It breaks off pieces of itself and gives them names, and then sets them down like little dolls in their tiny, utterly tiny dollhouse. It blinks wide, nonexistent eyes at them and watches with baited breath as they live. As they run. As they eat and scream and cry and laugh and sing and die. As they die. As Wally is dragged into forever, his fingers leaving claw marks in the dirt, his screams bubbled with blood.

Bart misses who he was before he knew what the world looked like when it was mourning the death of a piece of that vastness.

[webmackin]

The Mighty Oak: A Tale of Perseverance and Renewal

Once upon a time, in a sun-dappled forest, there stood an oak tree named Cedric. Cedric was no ordinary tree; he was a sentinel of time, a witness to countless seasons, and a symbol of resilience. His gnarled branches reached for the sky, and his roots delved deep into the earth, anchoring him against storms and adversity.

Act I: The Seedling’s Dream

Cedric began as a tiny acorn, nestled in the embrace of his mother tree. From the moment he cracked open, he felt an inexplicable yearning. “I want to touch the heavens,” he whispered to the wind. And so, with unwavering determination, he pushed his tender shoot upward, defying gravity.

Act II: The Struggle

Life wasn’t easy for Cedric. Storms raged, lightning scarred his bark, and winter stripped him bare. Yet, he clung to life, drawing strength from the soil, the rain, and the whispers of ancient oaks. “Grow,” they urged. “Become.”

And so, Cedric grew. His trunk thickened, his leaves unfurled, and he cast a protective shadow over the forest floor. But doubts crept in. “Am I enough?” he wondered. “Will I ever touch the sky?”

Act III: The Awakening

One crisp autumn morning, as golden leaves danced around him, Cedric felt a stirring within. His roots quivered, and he knew it was time. He shed his acorn memories and embraced his destiny. “I am an oak,” he declared. “I am meant for greatness.”

Act IV: The Dance of Seasons

Spring arrived, and Cedric burst forth with fresh green leaves. Birds nested in his branches, and squirrels raced along his limbs. Summer brought warmth, and Cedric stretched higher, reaching for the elusive sky. “Almost there,” he whispered.

Autumn arrived, and Cedric’s leaves blazed like a thousand suns. “Let go,” they murmured. And so, he did. One by one, they floated down, carpeting the forest floor. “This is my legacy,” Cedric thought. “To nourish the earth.”

Act V: The Circle of Life

Winter came, and Cedric stood bare once more. But this time, he didn’t despair. He knew that beneath the frost, life stirred. His roots intertwined with those of neighboring trees, sharing stories of survival. “We are one,” they whispered.

And so, Cedric waited. Spring returned, and with it, new leaves. His branches stretched higher, and he reveled in the sun��s warmth. “I touched the sky,” he marveled. “And I’ll do it again.”

Epilogue: The Eternal Oak

Cedric’s story echoed through generations. His rings bore witness to history—wars, love, loss, and rebirth. People sought shade beneath his boughs, and children carved their initials into his trunk. “Be like Cedric,” they said. “Stand tall, weather storms, and know that renewal awaits.”

And so, dear reader, when life feels harsh and storms threaten to break you, remember Cedric—the mighty oak who turned adversity into art. For within you lies the same indomitable spirit, waiting to sprout, grow, and touch the sky.

And so, the forest whispered: “Grow, become, and let your roots intertwine with the world.”

🌳🌿🌟

[faneposting-my-beloved]

I need to finish the Primordial Gods (aka dysfunctional divine siblings) arts before I introduce them in my fic, which is still 2 whole acts away, but the procrastination is real. Anyway, why not talk Gods while we're at it?

[HUGE spoilers for Song of Infinity, I mean not really, as it was covered in Draconic Chronicle a bit, but I kinda want to briefly elaborate]

The Primordial dictated the rules Rivellon was meant to obey, everything began with them.

First, came Life. Astarte, also known as the Sun Mother is a deity who keeps watch over everything that thrives, light, color, and love were born out of her essence and she is the sole deity capable of weaving the chaotic Cosmic Dust into its refined form- Source. Because all life is meant to end (a concept her brother challenged) her original sin is Sadness, and she is prone to having depressive episodes that greatly hinder her abilities. After the War of Creation, her tears have birthed a Man, coiling the concept of reproduction, longing, and attraction within mortal races.

Second, came Death. The God King, or originally, Veles (because I'm a slav that's why; also a plethora of other things but let's just stick with slav explanation). He was meant to rule over the realm of the dead, the Void, where souls would wait for reincarnation. With death, inseparably, walks fear. God King was first to entirely give into his Original Sin, which caused him to abandon his role as a Deathbringer and come up with a race indifferent to it - The Eternals. A race he fashioned against the wish of the Universe (the entity that created Primordial) itself. He masqueraded as the Eternal King, living his delirious dream until the Seven's rebellion. He is responsible for the death of the First Guardians, as well as Dragons' inability to reincarnate. He also spawned Chaos.

Third, came Rebirth. The youngest of the three Haume is ever-shifting,ever-flowing blood, also known under the name of Moon Mother. She revels in pain; the only link between death and birth. However, because of her nature, she lacks total control over her powers or even her form, and that earns her Wrath. Her blood created the first Woman, coiling the concepts of passion, childbirth...and periods (thanks Haume, v cool). Her element of choice is fire but her celestial body (moon) has the power over tides.

Every Primordial has their own language, which they use to operate their artifacts of creation - Rings. Life speaks in the past (what was), Void speaks in the present (what is) and Rebirth speaks in the future (what will be). Rivellon is a word in Void Primordial meaning 'Prospering Realm of Veles'. Eternal is a descendant of this tongue. Examples Eternal words; Xsa’en - [One] shimmering under a dark star Mae'ven - [One] born under an unbridled star Rivellis - referring to Eternals, (literally) prospering [people], people of prosperity Aenei - chime of a stardust bell Primordial languages combined created the first Ancient Dragonic tongue. Examples of Ancient Dragonic words; Annadsyl’Aegnishe - Gateway to the Sanctuary of Aegis’ Blazing Heart Examples of Modern Dragonic words: Corvus- Raven Anathema- Curse Speaking of Dragonic and Dragons - the only real God of Rivellon is a creation of the Three; Ouroboros, The All-Father, the First of the Dragons. Because of his triple legacy, Ouro shares characteristics of all Primordial, being the perfect blend of his creators . Note: because of the limitations of the mortal tongue 'Ouroboros' refers to the full three-aspect deity as well as his Rebirth aspect. The names of the First Dragon:

Ouroboros (the snake consuming its own tail) Originating from Haume. Continuity aspect, its attributes being fire and water

Aegis (the all-encircling shield) Originating from Astarte- Protection/Nursery aspect, its attributes being sky and earth

Dorchatas (The ever-present dark) Originating from Veles - Stagnation/Degradation aspect, its

The firstborn of Ouroboros, as well as the first Demigod/Avatar, was Patriarch the Black That's all for today's lore dump. In the next one, we will talk about more down-to-earth matters, listing Rivellonian months, weekdays, and respective holidays across all cultures and races

[alexandraxsuoh]

"I wish I could have seen this. I'm sure it was pretty hilarious to see. I mean, one more or less, he'll probably the only one up to do this."

"Wouldn't be better if she does it herself before asking the others?"

"I kicked him when he was a tart, he just changed back from being a boat. This isn't a challenge he will be cryptic in confessing to his partner."

"Will dare others but won't do it herself."

[alexandraxsuoh]

@crimsontwins replied to your post “"I'm a bit envious.. I never had a familly that...”:

Roy: if you marry me you could be part of my loving family

"What are you-" She stopped a bit to realize his words. It didn't take long before blushing. It was embarassing since she meant that her familly was the worst.

"W-What?! You barely know me, Roy! Gosh.. it's embrassing.." Don't mind her, she'll be back soon to normal. "...C-Can.. we start to know each others first..?"

[thewarxwithinme]

AS  THE  PLANETS.

BOLD  always applies. italics  sometimes apply  /  are verse dependent. strikethrough  never applies.

i.    𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐔𝐍.          egotistical.     melted wax wings & fingers.     stretching sunburned skin.     the most generous soul.     blood in the fruit.     halos.     anger on fire.     high vitality.     thunderous laughter.     is pride really a sin?      halogenic aura. ii.    𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘.          expansion of the mind.     silver—tongued.     an everlasting wanderer.     polyglot.     high dexterity.       handwritten letters.     innately critical.     en vogue.     eyes in the trees.     hidden libraries.     there’s always room for improvement.

iii.    𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒.          in love with strangers.     iridescent waters.     love potions for your mirror.     selfless devotion.     shattering crystal.     seafoam upon sand.     the golden ratio.     drowning in your own passion.          material value & high principles.           luring.     plush lips.

iv.    𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇.          fresh springs.     tree hugger.     we can start again tomorrow.     a blazing rainforest.     respects survival of the fittest.      nature’s adversity.     lazy bones.          constantly evolving.     flowers sprouting from wounds.     a granite altar.     fossilized remains.

v.    𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍.          illusory.      silver shimmer off the ocean.     secrets & gossip.     cycles of reincarnation.     a crybaby.     physically ethereal.            shared glances with a stranger.     cat eyes.     mistrusting their intuition.            fear is a prison.     ornate magic wands.

vi.    𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒.   healthy competition.        attraction & repulsion.     magma & rubies.     a blade being forged.     wrath,  wrath,  wrath.     malefic.     intense eye contact.     cannon fodder & fireworks.     blood floods.     copper taste on your tongue.

vii.    𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑.          red robes & a suit of armor.     beacon of stability.         leader by birth.     thunderbolts & lightning.     guilty but can’t stop.     secret rich kid.     golden touch,  golden tears.     innate optimist.          failure isn’t an option.          constantly reaching for more.     unfinished symphonies.

viii.    𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍.     traditional.     overbearing energy.     a sculptor of reality.     this existence is a karmic one.     has a heart ;  it’s just way down deep.     law,  order,  & justice.     avoid all necessary risk.     the sound of shackles clanging.     sisyphus’ struggle.         grappling with the reality of time.     self—governing.

ix.    𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒.          psychedelic funk music.     overflowing cups.     a rebellion with skin.      looking good in photo id.     oblivious but caring.     middle fingers in the air.     double rainbows.     icy diamond exterior.     holographic.     afraid of their own mediocrity.      pearlescent smoke.

x.    𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄.   an elegy for the lost.      dissolving boundaries.     white horses.     the burden of mystical conditions.       deceptive.         escapism is their reality.     a polarizing entity.     artist’s soul.     paranoia.     searching for the unseen.         a siren’s swan song

.

xi.    𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐎.    angel statues over graves.     power.     the cycle of necrosis.     transformative.      unfathomable depths.     an ivory tower toppling over.     screaming at the sky.       violets & irises.     eclipsed darkness.     speaks with their shadow.     sex,  death,  rebirth.

TAGGED BY: @dragoonxdive

TAGGING: @eternity-hero, @propertyofseagate, @ckingsbury1967, @hotelharki​, @hxroic-wxlls​, and anyone else who wants to do this! <3

[ayzrules]

Pick one important location in your story and write a longer description of it from one of your character’s perspectives. 

probably will be easier to read on my sideblog { here } due to font issues in my main. w/ @artless-whimsy​​

[THE BURNING PLAINS.]

“How does anything live here?" one of the angels asks, squinting up against cutting rays of harsh sunshine, golden and bright - so, so, bright, and burning jagged shards of glass-sharp light and smothering heat into every grain of sand, every molecule of air, coiling tightly into flesh and fur alike and choking out all the moisture.

“In the darkness," Mai says simply, recalling long-eared jackrabbits, burrowing kangaroo rats, cunning coyote kits; all the creatures that came out after nightfall, chittering and chattering and chirping. "And with the storms."

[SHADOW.] i. The sun hangs heavy in the sky, shining and still; the heat scorches and shimmers, slithers and simmers. There is no escape, save for the darkness.

ii. In the windswept desert, the golden light from above bleeds the earth dry and the sovereign in the clouds is nothing but a faraway dream. The creatures in this land of stinging sands and singed sunshine are wily and stubborn: they live, despite it all. 

iii. Some call the Borderlands a wasteland, barren desolation seared over with dust and sand, but Mai would beg to differ. The kingdom in the clouds is bright with glory, gleaming with pearls and moonstone and otherworldly in its perfection. It is a realm that is more dream than reality, a land of blinding, brilliant divinity that glitters hard and sharp, like gemstones shattering over silk. But the kingdom above is no more alive than the smooth marble statues standing vigil over their sacred temples; nothing dies and nothing changes and there is no life, not in any way that matters. 

Because: how can something have life, without death?

iv. Crawling centipedes and chuckling roadrunners and venom-dripped scorpions make a home in the Borderlands, where the light does nothing but burn, piercing straight to the bone. The flowers and birds and butterflies that meet the unforgiving heat and icy indifference of the desert with nothing but cleverness and cunning and an iron-forged determination to survive are more alive than anything from the kingdom above could ever hope to be.

v. Twilight falls over the hills, soft like ash; when the sun slips fully below the horizon, the night fills with chirps and cackles and snarls and screeches. Satin whispers and silken starlight murmur through the dust and shadows, and silvered moonglow shines out from behind the drifting clouds.

vi. In the Borderlands, the darkness is life. Anyone who does not know it now will come around, one way or another.

[SALVATION.] i. Dark clouds gather in the west, roiling and restless: they are bruises of dust and water vapor, blooming over the sky like deadly nightshade. Thunder growls over the land, a heaven-bound panther stalking its prey, and the mortals fear its wrath. Mai is not so foolish: in the desert, the swirling thunderclouds rumble with promises of rain and reprieve. It murmurs like a lullaby to her ears.

ii. The heat is stifling and silent. The air is dry as bone and poised like a hissing rattlesnake the moment before it strikes: all is quiet. All is still.

iii. The storm shatters the skies open as jagged daggers of lightning rend the world in two, furious and white-hot and roaring, incandescent like sunlight and starfire. Unrest rolls over the hills and chaos spirals across the desert. Mai feels it like singing steel piercing through velvet darkness, sending beams of silver-spun moonlight ricocheting into the night

iv. She breathes it in, lets it fill her veins. Chaos is power, and the demons are there when rain falls, when volcanoes erupt, when tectonic plates shift and collide. They bring the end of the world for an earthworm, a forest, an entire species, all so that angels can coax mud and mountain and life out of it all - because the angels are there when seedlings bloom into trees, when weeds and wildflowers wander into fire-struck desolation, when ash-green lichens and spring-soft mosses meander their way through the cracks and crevices of land scraped rock-barren by receding glaciers to begin anew. It’s a painstaking equilibrium between order and disorder, chaos and harmony, and the desert balances on the knife’s edge, dangling over the abyss. Here, the line between life and death is sharp and quick.

v. Sometimes, the storm-dark air is too dry, and the rain that glides downward with gravity mists away into nothingness before it ever has the chance to splatter clumsily across the ground. Lightning lances over the earth instead; it catches the tangled tinderbox of hardy desert shrubs on fire, and the blustery winds gusting across the hills only fan the flames higher.

vi. Other times, the rain falls doggedly toward the parched dirt, stubbornly defying the hissing heat and arid air and all the other forces of the universe that threaten to smother out every last bit of moisture. Then, all the desert rejoices.

[STARFALL.] i. The angel falls down, down, down in a radiant burst of glory-golden light: like sun-charred lightning striking the ground, or a meteor hurtling through the sky, bright and incandescent with molten mesosphere. The horizon lights up like a comet, and the moon is haloed in singing embers.

ii. A shock of celestial fury tears over the hills, setting all the desert alight in a rain of starfire. The flames that scorch the land are dying stars, shimmering with divine wrath: blazing, brilliant, and burning themselves to dust. 

iii. The fire flashes and flickers over low-lying grasses and snarls of woody vegetation, devouring everything in its path as the air glimmers with heat and dances with ash. When it finally goes out, weeks later, there is angel-glass skidded in saw-toothed ribbons over the earth: ignited divinity and stinging sand fused into shimmering nuggets of pearlescent stone, the glory-gleam of paradise melded with the harsh, smoldering heat of the Borderlands. It glitters moon-pale and silver-searing under the darkness of the desert night

iv. Holy things burn demons, and angel-glass is no exception. Even so, Mai cannot bring herself to look away. She crouches down and closes gloved fingers around a small shard of the lustrous stone, running her thumb over the surface and feeling all the layered ridges and the bubbles of trapped air: breaths of lightning-charged atmosphere fossilized into eternity.

v. The wind swirls viciously around them, howling a sandstorm into ash-dark twilight. The angel’s eyes shine like falling stars under the scarlet-scorched light of the Gate; when she wraps an arm around Mai’s waist and presses a steadying hand into the bloodied shreds of ivory silk and ruffled star-shine clinging to her shoulders, Mai burns, molten divinity filling her veins and flooding through her un-beating heart. Wild desert marigolds and berry-sweet birds of paradise burst to life inside of her, drowning the hard steel and lancing moonlight of her ribcage in petaled brilliance. 

vi. When their lips come together for the first time, the air hisses and crackles and catches on fire all around them, soft like morning dew and bright like sunbeams flaring over the stratosphere, setting mud and mountain and sky and sea ablaze in sparking flashes of gleaming gold and liquid amber.

Mai has never felt more alive.

[alexandraxsuoh]

"Still, not everyone would think like this." She sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised to be honest."

"Don't worry, it's not like they can arrest us, this, believe it or not isn't illegal in Fontaine."

"Unless they think she's in the Fatui again."

[beyond-the-mirror]

The Blue Eyed King’s Gift

Welcome back to another chapter of this story! Have you already guessed which fairy tales is it inspired by? You can find one of the answers in the tags below.

Tagging @v-vic​, if you wish to be tagged you can let me know at any moment.

I also want to give special thanks to @thottyonmainsquid​ for beta reading and offering her great and brilliant advice, as well as our discord server for their support and inspiring shenanigans.

Pairings: Vergil x Fem Reader

Warnings: War and violence. Mild gory descriptions, nothing too explicit.

Part One - Part Three - Part Four

……………………..

Part Two

Once upon a time, there existed a vast kingdom ruled by a great and powerful demon who possessed a heart as merciful and gentle as that of a human.

At the beginning of his reign, the Demon King bestowed upon all the humans of his land the ancient magic of his kind, quite unlike his predecessors that kept said magic to themselves selfishly alongside a few nobles of demonic heritage. With this wonderful gift, the inhabitants were able to access greater knowledge, developing more advanced technologies that greatly improved their lives. Soon enough the kingdom grew larger than ever before, making alliances with neighboring countries in order to selflessly share their magic and science with those who needed it most. Such was the will of the Demon King, who reigned over the peaceful land for centuries.

One day, the king fell in love with a human woman, and took the ultimate decision to renounce his immortality in order to spend the rest of his days with her as his beloved queen. From this union, two children were born, twin little boys with pristine white hair and blue eyes. The entire kingdom was overjoyed at the news, a long lasting celebration was held in honor of the newborn princes. As time passed, the twins grew up to become well respected nobles among the people, as well as skilled swordsmen just like their father. The younger one had a spirit like the sun, warm and vibrant; the older one had a spirit like the moon, calm and piercing.

……………………..

Many years later, the Demon King and his beloved queen passed away at their shared bed due to old age, both with a peaceful smile on their faces at the fulfilling lives they had shared with each other. At their passing, the elder brother was crowned as king of Fortuna in a most luscious ceremony which hosted many representatives of their allied countries. The Blue Eyed King was able to reign as benevolently and wisely as his late father; however, he would often question his trust in some of Fortuna’s allies, concerns that he kept even after his crowning.

During a festival at the town square, someone caught the monarch’s attention, a beautiful maiden with a heart of gold lively dancing and twirling to the cheery music. At the end of the song, their eyes locked for a few moments that seemed almost eternal, and he knew he just had to meet her. Love blossomed between them, which some time later led to a joyful marriage between the two. The king and queen lived together with great happiness, their love as profound as the immensity of the universe.

Such happiness wouldn’t last long.

……………………..

After a medical checkup, the couple was informed that the young queen could not bear any children. The news absolutely devastated her, driving her into a severe depression that kept her isolated in her private chambers for months to come. In his despair to help his wife, the king did everything in his power to aid her in her malady. Every single medic was summoned to the palace, doctors, healers, therapists… the young king prayed every day and night for the recovery of his beloved, always tending to her side and holding her close as many times as she allowed him too.

One day, after many painful months, the queen finally gathered some energy and emerged from her chambers, much to the relief of all the servants and the young king himself. She made one single request to her husband.

She showed him a small bag of seeds “My beloved. Allow me to plant these seeds in our royal garden, and tend to them with my very own hands. I don’t wish to be helped by our servants and gardeners, who have already done so much for me these past months. Please, let me be the only one to nurture these seeds.”

As much as he wanted to protest her decision to work despite her health condition, the king obliged. Whatever it took to make his love recover her lost happiness, he would gladly accept.

The next months, the queen would be seen tending to the seeds she planted in the garden, which eventually grew into many exquisite blue roses thanks to her love and dedication. The king was filled with joy knowing that his wife had finally started to smile again, little by little did she recover and soon she was back into her usual cheery self.

None of them would have expected the tragedy that was about to fall upon the kingdom.

……………………..

They attacked at midnight while everyone slumbered. Loud explosions from their cannons shattered the calm atmosphere of the night, reducing buildings and homes to rubble and dust. 

Nobody would have expected that this particular allied country would ever consider the benefits given by Fortuna as simply not enough for them. Envious and greedy, they wanted the great kingdom’s power and riches all for themselves.

As his twin rushed to take care of the siege engines surrounding the city, the Blue Eyed King and his army fought valiantly against the enemy who planned to infiltrate the grand palace. He had struck down another group of soldiers with a graceful cut from his demon sword Yamato when an all too familiar scream made his blood run cold. Looking around frantically, he spotted through the corner of his eye the queen running towards the royal garden. The king immediately bolted after his beloved, only to stop dead in his tracks at what he saw once he reached her.

The queen laid lifeless on the exact same roses she had planted months ago, the blooms now crushed and their petals painted red with her blood. Towering before her, the very own general that commanded such an act of treason against Fortuna, standing victoriously arrogant at the murder he had commited.

At that moment something broke inside the king. Everything happening around him became mere white noise as pure rage and sorrow drowned his rationality. A blaze of blue fire enveloped the king as he embraced his demonic heritage, and with a mighty roar that shattered the night skies above and the earth below, he unleashed his fury at the ones that took his love away.

……………………..

Everyone watched in horror as a dark atmosphere consumed the entire city, even the soldiers stopped fighting and froze on their sports as the heavy darkness wrapped around everything it could touch.

And then, it happened.

It was strangely beautiful, the way thousands of light beams shot instantaneously through the air like fractals of blue energy, followed shortly by a delicate hum that resonated everywhere, not unlike the chirping of birds at breaking dawn. The lights illuminated the streets as if it were a sunny day despite being in the dead of the night. All who bore witness to the otherworldly display found themselves hypnotized by its beauty, the sight so alluring, so alluring... 

And just as it had begun, it ended, like a lightning breaking through the storm in a matter of seconds. During that time nobody dared make a move, too stunned at what they had just witnessed.

The Blue Eyed King sheathed his sword.

One by one, every single soldier from the enemy country fell to the ground in unrecognizable pieces, a sickening sound as their remains sploshed and bloodied the streets. It was a nightmarish sight, how an entire army was eradicated in just an instant and in such a grotesque manner.

Silence reigned over the ruined kingdom once more, as if a war had never happened in the first place.

……………………..

The prince rushed to the palace, knowing something must have happened to his older brother after realization had hit him. His imposing red wings pierced the sky as he flew, a twisted feeling that tugged at his heart telling him that something must have gone terribly wrong.

As he landed at the now rundown garden, he saw his brother’s true demon form thrashing around in torment.

Overwhelmed by his grief, the king kept ripping and tearing down the now mangled body of the opposing general. Even his own demon sword laid forgotten on the ground as he preferred to discharge his wrath with his very own claws.

The prince immediately seized him, trying his best to calm down his brother. However, the beast inside him had completely consumed him, leaving only a primal creature thirsty for blood and revenge.

Suddenly, an unexpected cry resonated through the garden, interrupting the fight between the twin brothers.

Both demons stood bewildered as the high pitched wailing continued, breaking the silence that permeated the garden. The Blue Demon quickly scanned the area, looking for the source of the strange noise, his breaths slowly evening out as he started to recover some of his lost clarity.

His blue fiery eyes widened as he noticed the sound was coming just next to the corpse of his long lost queen.

Without losing a minute the beast prowled towards her body. Upon closer inspection, her arms seemed to be enclosed around something, as if protecting it and keeping it safe until her very last breath. Ever so carefully, the Blue Demon pried her arms open, minding the sharp talons that had replaced his human nails.

In her embrace, a single intact blue rose laid. The bud was abnormally bigger than the rest of the blooms that laid broken around her, gigantic even. As the king focused on the bizarre flower, he realized that the cries were coming from inside it, just as he too observed a few slight movements on its soft inner petals

In the most gentle and careful manner, the beast opened the rose bud. What he found inside brought tears to his eyes.

Two newborn babies were cuddled inside the unnatural flower, flailing their tiny limbs and crying in distress. The infants had pale rosy skin, soft white tufts of hair crowned atop of their heads.

The king turned beast stood astonished at the sight, not expecting to find such innocent lives at the now crumbled ruins that were once his and his wife’s garden.

Scales turned into flesh, talons transformed into lithe fingers. The king slowly reached for the children with shaky arms, pulling them out of the rose and cradling them against his chest. The babies nuzzled after the warmth he exuded, one that soothed their alarmed cries little by little. It was then that they finally fluttered their eyes open, and the king let out a startled gasp.

One had light blue eyes like an endless ocean at peace, very much like the kings’ own. The other had mesmerizing green eyes like a lively forest, very much like… His heart swelled with both joy and melancholy. The child’s eyes were very much like his beloved queens’.

What the monarch failed to realize at that moment was that this was his beloved’s last gift. Unbeknownst to him, amidst the doctors that had been summoned to treat her infertility, there was an elderly woman who was praised for her unique medicinal practices involving a combination of magic and science. Knowing this, the queen begged for her help as soon as she had recognized her presence in her chambers. 

The elderly woman gifted her a small satchel full of magic-imbued seeds, instructing her to add a drop of her own blood as well as one of the king’s into the satchel before planting them, warning that the seeds would only grow by the hands of the queen herself. According to her words, one of the roses would bear a child after 9 months, an heir with the same blood used to soak the seeds at the beginning.

After offering her heartfelt gratitude to the healer, the queen set to work as soon as possible, one night even pricking her husband’s finger while he slept in order to follow those same instructions. She worked day and night, tending to the roses while ignoring the worrying looks of the servitude and those of the king himself. Above all, the queen prayed to the gods every morning she would get up to keep gardening. When she noticed one of the roses growing much more than the others, the smile she thought long lost had finally returned.

The infants stared at the man holding them before raising their small hands, reaching for his face as they giggled ever so sweetly.

For the first time in his life, the Blue Eyed King broke into tears, now understanding why his beloved was in such a rush making her way to the garden.

These children were his sons, his and his queen’s very own flesh and blood.

She had given her life to save their children.

The king hugged the little boys in his arms tightly, tears after tears cascaded down his face. His younger brother, now back into his human self, fell to his knees and embraced his brother, hoping to alleviate some of his brother’s pain as he too broke down.

He could barely hear his brother’s words as he spoke between heartbreaking sobs. “No mortal shall ever cause you pain, my beautiful children. I am your father, and until my very last breath, I shall protect you.”

……………………..

As dawn broke, all the surviving Fortunians were gathered in front of the palace gates. By order of the king, every single inhabitant of the kingdom had been relocated to the citadel which will later be rebuilt and occupied.

Before everyone, the Blue Eyed King vowed and swore to protect his people by all means necessary. And if it meant cutting ties with the rest of the world, then so shall be his will and command. Fortuna had been betrayed by who they considered an ally, and he will make sure a tragedy like this one would never happen again. 

For the sake of his people. For the sake of his sons.

The king unsheathed his sword, and with an all-powerful cut, he split the land around the great citadel and the surrounding villages, severing all cuts with the outside world and enveloping it in a magical barrier.

In the blink of an eye, the Great Kingdom of Fortuna was gone.

……………………..

Once upon a time, there existed a vast kingdom ruled by a great and powerful demon. However, every remnant of its existence vanished without leaving any trace behind. As ages went by, nature grew and reclaimed the unoccupied land, eventually forming a thick forest where all kinds of wild creatures lived in harmony.

For the rest of humanity, Fortuna had been long lost. This, however, couldn’t be further than the truth.

The great kingdom still stood proud and prosperous, albeit in another plane of existence cut off from all mundane ties to our world. A plane of existence where even time itself behaved in the most different and unexpected ways possible.

It was a bit difficult at the beginning, but the inhabitants soon adapted to their environment without any more trouble. In no time they managed to rebuild their homes and return to their normal lifestyles, now convinced that the decision made by the Blue Eyed King was the best for everyone.

Peace once again reigned over the kingdom. And as long as its existence remained a secret to the outside world, nothing shall ever take it away.

[marvelvsmarvel]

Marvelvsmarvel Year in Review Pt V:

The MCU Farewells

This will be my last Year In Review post for 2020 thank you to those who have stuck with em. As we’re swinging into the new year everybody be safe share some love and kiss this year goodbye!

With all the exciting upcoming Marvel projects coming out to theaters and Disney+, with the new comes throwing out the old and it seems time to finally put some hopes and rumors of past Marvel projects to rest. While I made a separate post about Agents of SHIELD this one is for the Projects left on the cutting room floor. The image above by BossLogic is a concept of Daredevil and Spider-Man (2/3 of Team Red) possibly crossing over someday. Next year marks the end of the 2 year period where Disney can once again use the previously Netflix owned characters: Daredevil, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Iron Fist, and The Punisher. But based on the new slate of shows coming to Disney+ like Moon Knight and She Hulk, it does not appear in the books to rehash these older and frankly grittier stories. Some of these we have already known are done and others we need to significantly put to rest the hope in seeing them reappear:

Agents of SHIELD: Based on the end scene of Spider-Man: Far From Home we know that the MCU is going to be doing something with SWORD. Coulson had made a nice cameo on Captain Marvel but those films will no longer take place in the past. Then based on Randall Park’s FBI Agent Jimmy Woo (originally a SHIELD agent in the comics) its looks like they’re moving on up (literally. To the sky.)

Netflix Defenders: Done but ended well. Doubt we see Iron Fist in Shang Chi or Daredevil in the already over the top Spider-Man Hom3. Most of the series ended with cliffhangers but these being the final seasons at least they all ended better than they started. As for the namesake there was an original Defenders team in the comics of the Hulk, Doctor Strange, Silver Surfer, and Namor that could form up sometime down the road.

Ghost Rider (Robbie Reyes): His show got cancelled from Hulu before production but there’s at least a script and a lead in Gabriel Luna out there floating in the Multiverse should they want to use him in Doctor Strange or Blade later down the way. But there’s always Johnny Blaze as well.

Inhumans: I know the series sucked (trust me I powered through it). It wasn’t any fault of the cast or the characters themselves. The Inhumans have some great roots in the comics but not nearly enough for the deciding powers to deem important. The Eternals are essentially going to overlap their roles in the MCU.

Cloak and Dagger/The Runaways: Again we’re seeing many new teens pop up like Mz Marvel Kamala Khan, Ironheart Riri Williams, Hawkeye Kate Bishop, etc. so I’m just not sure the need for these teen heroes is quite there and many people didn’t think the Runaways was worth producing at the time anyways.

X-Force: Marvel Studios talked as if they are pushing for this to happen but it’s yet to be confirmed. Deadpool for sure. Do they maintain the original cast as far as Josh Brolin as Cable as well? Mostly questions for the X-Men properties.

New Mutants: I know they confirmed that the film that took forever to come out only to receive critical reviews is considered to be a part of the MCU but remember they said the same of the tv shows and that never proved out. I think any further iterations get recast but maybe they keep one or two like Anya-Taylor Joy’s Magik. That’s the Incredible Hulk treatment maintaining William Hurt’s Thaddeus Ross and now Tim Roth’s Abomination but essentially nothing else including the lead actor.

[chiefbelieverstarlight]

“The Garden of Janus”

I The cloud my bed is tinged with blood and foam. The vault yet blazes with the sun Writhing above the West, brave hippodrome Whose gladiators shock and shun As the blue night devours them, crested comb Of sleep's dead sea That eats the shores of life, rings round eternity! II So, he is gone whose giant sword shed flame Into my bowels; my blood's bewitched; My brain's afloat with ecstasy of shame. That tearing pain is gone, enriched By his life-spasm; but he being gone, the same Myself is gone Sucked by the dragon down below death's horizon. III I woke from this. I lay upon the lawn; They had thrown roses on the moss With all their thorns; we came there at the dawn, My lord and I; God sailed across The sky in's galleon of amber, drawn By singing winds While we wove garlands of the flowers of our minds. IV All day my lover deigned to murder me, Linking his kisses in a chain About my neck; demon-embroidery! Bruises like far-ff mountains stain The valley of my body of ivory! Then last came sleep. I wake, and he is gone; what should I do but weep? V Nay, for I wept enough --- more sacred tears! --- When first he pinned me, gripped My flesh, and as a stallion that rears, Sprang, hero-thewed and satyr-lipped; Crushed, as a grape between his teeth, my fears; Sucked out my life And stamped me with the shame, the monstrous word of wife. VI I will not weep; nay, I will follow him Perchance he is not far, Bathing his limbs in some delicious dim Depth, where the evening star May kiss his mouth, or by the black sky's rim He makes his prayer To the great serpent that is coiled in rapture there. VII I rose to seek him. First my footsteps faint Pressed the starred moss; but soon I wandered, like some sweet sequestered saint, Into the wood, my mind. The moon Was staggered by the trees; with fierce constraint Hardly one ray Pierced to the ragged earth about their roots that lay. VIII I wandered, crying on my Lord. I wandered Eagerly seeking everywhere. The stories of life that on my lips he squandered Grew into shrill cries of despair, Until the dryads frightened and dumfoundered Fled into space --- Like to a demon-king's was grown my maiden face! XI At last I came unto the well, my soul In that still glass, I saw no sign Of him, and yet --- what visions there uproll To cloud that mirror-soul of mine? Above my head there screams a flying scroll Whose word burnt through My being as when stars drop in black disastrous dew. X For in that scroll was written how the globe Of space became; of how the light Broke in that space and wrapped it in a robe Of glory; of how One most white Withdrew that Whole, and hid it in the lobe Of his right Ear, So that the Universe one dewdrop did appear. IX Yea! and the end revealed a word, a spell, An incantation, a device Whereby the Eye of the Most Terrible Wakes from its wilderness of ice To flame, whereby the very core of hell Bursts from its rind, Sweeping the world away into the blank of mind. XII So then I saw my fault; I plunged within The well, and brake the images That I had made, as I must make - Men spin The webs that snare them - while the knee Bend to the tyrant God - or unto Sin The lecher sunder! Ah! came that undulant light from over or from under? XIII It matters not. Come, change! come, Woe! Come, mask! Drive Light, Life, Love into the deep! In vain we labour at the loathsome task Not knowing if we wake or sleep; But in the end we lift the plumed casque Of the dead warrior; Find no chaste corpse therein, but a soft-smiling whore. XIV Then I returned into myself, and took All in my arms, God's universe: Crushed its black juice out, while His anger shook His dumbness pregnant with a curse. I made me ink, and in a little book I wrote one word That God himself, the adder of Thought, had never heard. XV It detonated. Nature, God, mankind Like sulphur, nitre, charcoal, once Blended, in one annihilation blind Were rent into a myriad of suns. Yea! all the mighty fabric of a Mind Stood in the abyss, Belching a Law for "That" more awful than for "This." XVI Vain was the toil. So then I left the wood And came unto the still black sea, That oily monster of beatitude! ('Hath "Thee" for "Me," and "Me" for "Thee!") There as I stood, a mask of solitude Hiding a face Wried as a satyr's, rolled that ocean into space. XVII Then did I build an altar on the shore Of oyster-shells, and ringed it round With star-fish. Thither a green flame I bore Of phosphor foam, and strewed the ground With dew-drops, children of my wand, whose core Was trembling steel Electric that made spin the universal Wheel. XVIII With that a goat came running from the cave That lurked below the tall white cliff. Thy name! cried I. The answer that gave Was but one tempest-whisper - "If!" Ah, then! his tongue to his black palate clave; For on soul's curtain Is written this one certainty that naught is certain! XIX So then I caught that goat up in a kiss. And cried Io Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan! Then all this body's wealth of ambergris, (Narcissus-scented flesh of man!) I burnt before him in the sacrifice; For he was sure - Being the Doubt of Things, the one thing to endure! XX Wherefore, when madness took him at the end, He, doubt-goat, slew the goat of doubt; And that which inward did for ever tend Came at the last to have come out; And I who had the World and God to friend Found all three foes! Drowned in that sea of changes, vacancies, and woes! XXI Yet all that Sea was swallowed up therein; So they were not, and it was not. As who should sweat his soul out through the skin And find (sad fool!) he had begot All that without him that he had left in, And in himself All he had taken out thereof, a mocking elf! XXII But now that all was gone, great Pan appeared. Him then I strove to woo, to win, Kissing his curled lips, playing with his beard, Setting his brain a-shake, a-spin, By that strong wand, and muttering of the weird That only I Knew of all souls alive or dead beneath the sky. XXIII So still I conquered, and the vision passed. Yet still was beaten, for I knew Myself was He, Himself, the first and last; And as an unicorn drinks dew From under oak-leaves, so my strength was cast Into the mire; For all I did was dream, and all I dreamt desire. XXIV More; in this journey I had clean forgotten The quest, my lover. But the tomb Of all these thoughts, the rancid and the rotten, Proved in the end to be my womb Wherein my Lord and lover had begotten A little child To drive me, laughing lion, into the wanton wild! XXV This child hath not one hair upon his head, But he hath wings instead of ears. No eyes hath he, but all his light is shed Within him on the ordered sphere Of nature that he hideth; and in stead Of mouth he hath One minute point of jet; silence, the lightning path! XXVI Also his nostrils are shut up; for he Hath not the need of any breath; Nor can the curtain of eternity Cover that head with life or death. So all his body, a slim almond-tree, Knoweth no bough Nor branch nor twig nor bud, from never until now. XXVII This thought I bred within my bowels, I am. I am in him, as he in me; And like a satyr ravishing a lamb So either seems, or as the sea Swallows the whale that swallows it, the ram Beats its own head Upon the city walls, that fall as it falls dead. XXVIII Come, let me back unto the lilied lawn! Pile me the roses and the thorns, Upon this bed from which he hath withdrawn! He may return. A million morns May follow that first dire daemonic dawn When he did split My spirit with his lightnings and enveloped it! XXIX So I am stretched out naked to the knife, My whole soul twitching with the stress Of the expected yet surprising strife, A martyrdom of blessedness. Though Death came, I could kiss him into life; Though Life came, I Could kiss him into death, and yet nor live nor die! XXX Yet I that am the babe, the sire, the dam, Am also none of these at all; For now that cosmic chaos of I AM Bursts like a bubble. Mystical The night comes down, a soaring wedge of flame Woven therein To be a sign to them who yet have never been. XXXI The universe I measured with my rod. The blacks were balanced with the whites; Satan dropped down even as up soared God; Whores prayed and danced with anchorites. So in my book the even matched the odd: No word I wrote Therein, but sealed it with the signet of the goat. XXXII This also I seal up. Read thou herein Whose eyes are blind! Thou may'st behold Within the wheel (that alway seems to spin All ways) a point of static gold. Then may'st thou out therewith, and fit it in That extreme sphere Whose boundless farness makes it infinitely near.

-- Aleister Crowley