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echantedtoon · 8 months ago

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Promise Ch3 Vow

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.

EDIT: Ch1 was deleted as I was editing this final chapter. I'm done editing this so. I'm going to try and redo ch1 when I get a chance so this all makes sense.)

@lavenderdrxp

@thotfulwriter

@trancylovecraft

An vow is your word.

A promise. An undying oath. A something you ultimately agree too.

Remember that what you will. Do not take lightly the things spoken as a contract with words for there are things you can not undo.

You jumped as a thunderclap in the distance overhead echoed throughout the sky. Your head looked up instinctively and stared at the still lit up sky and the dark grey storm clouds that scattered across it like some shattered jigsaw puzzle. The sight of it worried you making a frown appear on your perfectly make uped face. The chilly wind blowing over you making you shiver and the veil flow in the wind and over your face.

A hand reached up to push the lacey veil away from your face to give a clearer look at the looming figure in front of you.

The stories you've heard about the ancient Garden, the tales and whispers and rumors. Hone to decadence and luxury in the days of yore, now abandoned and mostly forgotten. The aura of mystery and lost inheritance tainted by misfortune and blood mixed with greedy ambition. It's shadow loomed over your form blocking most of what's left of the moonlight, casting the eerie darkness over your beautiful white dress. None of the rumors have done it justice, only instilling more creepiness to the overall visage. The whole place looked like the stereotypical image of a ghost story made. Old worn shrine. Creaking creepy metal fence. The old rock pathway leading up toit full of cracks and had weeds growing in the crevices. This place was obviously abandoned for most of its existence. So why doesn't it look like an overgrown forest by now? Why weren't the grounds more overgrown than expected??... Must've been the caretaker. There must've been a caretaker.

You've had many fond memories of this place growing up as a child. You remember flocking here in search of solice and peace when no ond else would give it to you. It had felt that way for many years. The garden welcomed you, almost sought you out whenever you were to come here to pray and give offering to the twin deities the garden was said to belong to. Elders always scolded you for going to the abandoned place saying that it was dangerous filled with poisonous plants and wild animals. The real superstitious ones told you that it was full of ghosts that would spirit you away from this world if you weren't careful. You never believed that..The part about the spirits being evil. If there was spirits here then they weren't evil or just went around minding their own business. They certainly never bothered you anytime you were there.

However tonight maybe they were onto something as the red moon shown bright.

The moon shined red as blood tonight as shadows moved.

Quiet night. Unholy night of beasts. Feasting their sights upon the stray women who dare stay out at night when the full moon rises, lighting the pathway for the beasts to claim their prey. Gnashing teeth, snarling fangs waiting to take a bite into innocent flesh where the terrible claws miss. Waiting to snatch you away down into their dark abyss never to return. She was none what so ever concerned about traveling alone tonight. She had better places to be and anyone who dared be foolish enough to tangle with the night would never be heard from again. One look at it would deter most creatures away. But hier business was not with them.

You shivered in the wind that picked up clutching your hydrangeas closer as you rubbed your shoulders in a vain attempt to bring what limited warmth you had back to your body.

Partially through what was left of the limited moonlight, you passed by some wild trees that made your stomach flip but it came a different feeling.

The feeling of being watched.

It didn't start out that way. At first it was just an aspect in the back of your mind you brushed of as paranoia of the shrine's old ghost stories echoing in your mind. The feeling first came around when the sun had just started to set and it wasn't strong enough to warrant anything more than a two second thought and hand waving them off. However thing's changed. The sun soon disappeared over the horizon to be kissed good night by it's counterpart, the moon, and the walking woman was glad that it was a full moon, for it brought moonlight strong enough for you to see the pathway as your feet continued to walk. With it came the feeling but tenfold. You've only felt this way before back at home when your too clingy fiance wouldn't leave you alone, that same feeling also returned with the feeling of being followed, but every time your head snapped over your shoulder towards the Darkness behind you....

There would be nothing.

Literally nothing. Nothing but the cold wind starting to pick up. You brushed it off as just your paranoia getting the better of you and you set your jaw against the wind. There was nothing there anyways so what did you have to worry about?

Someone following you and dragging you back home. Your family would make you marry the most obnoxious man ever and you would never be able to come here again. You'd be damned if you weren't going to give your offerings one last time. And at least say goodbye to your childhood sanctuary.

The overgrown weeds hugged the hem of the bridal dress she wore. A ghost of white in the darkness. A warmth settling in with invisible eyes as you approached the large stone. It's carvings long since worn away to where you could barely make it out but as always you bowed against the wind and leaned down to place the hydrangea you've brought as a final farewell gift to the deities whom lurked here if any lurked here at all. As if pleased with your gift, the wind temporarily stopped in its path. This was it. Once you returned, the ceremony would already be ready to start and you'd be a taken woman. It was a miracle you were able to sneak out this long.

"Farewell. I appreciate all you've provided for me in my time of solitude."

A hand reached out to brush away some of the overgrown vines from the cold stone. A barely visible carving of a moon was visible in the limited moonlight. You had once asked one of the superstitious elders about it and he had explained the legend of how there had been two deities long ago. One of the son and one of the moon. The moon deity once had everything he could ask for including a mortal wife and children out of his own, however he abandoned them all out of jealousy to eternally chase his brother the sun. That's why supposedly you had solar and lunar eclipses where the moon would be more visible even during the daytime. You didn't think the eclipses were the responsibility of deities but if the rest of the legend was true then it was certainly sad. But you wished your fiance would be jealous enough to leave you.

"I wonder if I was more brash if he would've left me too?", you mused out loud to yourself.

Nothing but the lonely wind and crickets chirping answered you.

You didn't speak at first. Slowly standing up. Wind blowing the veil around you. The blood moonlight giving a reddish glint to the olden shrine.

You snorted at your situation despite yourself being angry. "I still can't believe my family saw anything in him. He couldn't even say his vows right at the rehearsal...I guess that was because he was imagining saying them to someone else the whole time." A different version of you he wanted most likely.

"What was his vows anyways? I bet they were so bland and and boring." You snickered thinking about his bumble at the rehearsal before you cleared your throat before in a bad impression of his voice you spoke in a cheesy lovestruck tone. "My beautiful love. Bind our blood in ceremony and let me share your name." A hand outstretched to no one as you fake acted out processing your love to an invisible imaginary person. "Under the stars of the heavens, I solemly swear, that this hand will always be kind and never cruel. That my voice will only speak truth. That this life is now forever yours." The outstretched hand pretended to take the imaginary person's hand. "Now as yours is mine."

You could hear imagine the look on his face if you told him how predictable his Making you smile and continue. Your engagement ring slipped off your finger as you pretended to use it as the wedding ring presenting it to the stone.

"Bind our souls to infinity and I will promise you love and devotion through sickness and health and beyond the realms of death." You continued to speak remembering the details of the day like it happened yesterday. "I will love you in all your forms now and forever. Through several lifetimes and back." Your voice was low and smooth now speaking it like you meant it with pride. "From now to infinity." You held the ring up as if actually presenting it to someone. "Unyielding. Untainted. Undeniable. With this voice I promise you my love and heart. With this ring, I ask you to be mine!" You held up the ring- only to accidentally again trip on your train and slip. "Crap!"

You ended up landing on just your knees his time. Both rings again falling to the ground and rolling away from sight. Not that you really cared about that as much as you cared about the soreness this goofy outfit was causing you.

You hissed slowly moving to stand back up. "Ugh. I keep tripping over my stupid dress."

You scrambled to grab your hem again and look around for the ring. Where'd they go? You looked around for the ring and eventually found them laying just in front of you in the grass. Ah. There they are. You were half tempted to just leave them there but your family would be angry. Your hand reached out to them-

Until something grabbed your wrist-

It was like the air itself had wrapped around your wrist and PULLED! You yelled out as you arm was tugged forward and you yelled as your other hand shot out to brace yourself against the ground. A horror feeling shot through your body as you looked up and saw..

Literally nothing there.

The moonlight illuminated the area in front of you and you could see nothing but you felt an iron grip on you arm. You couldn't help but let out a little yell of fright before you started pulling back in a panic. Pulling back and yanking at the otherworldly grip keeping you in place. Your other arm flying out to grip your arm and pull back as hard as you could. Pulling, yelling, and fighting back as nothing gave. Panic filled your form as you inch by inch manage to strain your arm back near yourself but the crushing grip never gave. It still felt like there was a fist made of air clamped around your wrist. What was going on?! What was this?! The wind howled around you blowing the veil around like some bridal cape. The clouds increased in the sky and the bloody moon oozed it's light down on misfortune.

THUMP-

Your mouth dropped in horror as the ground under your knees moved, as of a great beast was disturbed by your presence. The ground rumbled and shook as you teetered and looked at the ground in horror. Pupils the sizes of pins as you gave small gasps and yelps as thunder crashed overhead thunder reigning through the sky and cold wind swirling around. Until the monster under the dirt finally ceased and all was still again. You gasped out and sat there panting heavily as everything just..

Stopped.

As if it didn't even happen. You panted looking around yourself but not seeing anything. What the hell just happened?! You tried to yank back again mouth dry and heartbeat thudding in your ears as the grip still was present unwilling to let you get away!

BAM!!

Dirt tumbled away from the ground. All sense of safety vanished. All fear at once swallowing you as a fist smashed up from the dirt and snatched the exact spot on your arm that the air had been holding. Your voice shrieked out quickly swallowed up by the howling wind and echoing throughout the garden as more emerged.

A second hand erupted from the ground in front of you. Eyes going small as something from the depths battered it's way from beneath the surface. A feeling of ice injected itself into your veins as it pushed out from under your feet. Dirt pushed up with each deep push upwards. Cracks formed between old roots and rocks. A shiny ring slowly rolled away from the jostling-

Only to be snatched up as a large hand burst from beneath the soil.

Body froze. Jaw opening. Eyes wide as the moon. Digits old and worn flexed out feeling against the nearly disturbed until it healed back. It retreated a few inches back down into the depths of the abyss leaving a disturbed dirt mound behind. Your mouth hung agape seeing the two hands until the second one shot back up flinging dirt and grass over your body. It's claws firmly cementing itself into the crowd before whatever it was came up.

You shrieked once more. Wind howling. AND THEN THE GROUND BEGAN RISING UP WITH MORE FORCE. Ground gave way as the giant rose up from his slumber. The mountain rising to form as first and clumps of grass fell from it's back disturbed from the movement. A few stray roots snapping like little weak threads as whatever it was rose in a similar fashion to someone rising from their slumber and was asleep on their stomach. The form only rose higher and higher dragging you up when the grip didn't relent. You sobbed out as you semi stood up thanks to the iron grip the hand still had on you.

Her eyes were staring up at the blackened face of a figure that was the tallest person she had ever seen. There was silence as the chilling wind blew long strands of hair about itself, then one by one six orbs opened themselves up catching the moonlight reverberating off the shining irises that dawned upon your horrified expression.

"I accept."

You once again screamed out not even phasing the man as you pulled and yanked on the unrelenting grip on your arm. "W-Who are you?!"

"I go by many names. My enemies know me as Death. Your people as a god. My family as Michikatsu."Those beautiful eyes widened even more, especially when a hand reached out to tilt her chin back up to him, the feeling of his claws making her shiver under his careful grasp. "You as Husband. I have favored you for quite a while now and I have decided that I accept this coupling."

Your hyperventilating lungs breathed- GASPED for air. Lips. Trembled. Body shook. Tears welding up. "I-I.. Can't accept."

"I'm afraid you have no choice but to honor those vows. Because now-" The grip became all the more deafening upon your skin. "Not even death will do us part."

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batwynn · 11 months ago

Text

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the door, when, with many a huff and grunting,

In there stepped a stoutly walrus of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, flopped at my chamber door—

Lay upon the floor at my chamber door—

Loaf, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this briny creature beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy form be fat and tubular, thou,” I said, “art sure no insular,

Ghastly grim and random walrus wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly mammal to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing walrus at his chamber door—

Fish or beast upon the floor situated at his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Walrus, sitting lonely on the cold floor, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a flipper then he flapped—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have swam before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have swam before.”

Then the Walrus said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Walrus still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of creature, and floor and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous mammal of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, fat, and ominous creature of yore

Meant in roaring “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the beast whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if beast or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if beast or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, beast or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no yellow tusk as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the floor at my door!

Take thy tusks from out my heart, and take thy form from out my door!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

And the Walrus, never flipping, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the dark and dusty stretch just before my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

#walrus #walrus and fairy #edgar allan poe

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theweeowlart · 3 months ago

Text

'The Raven' by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door- Only this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore- For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is, and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door;- Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"- Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice: Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore- Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;- 'Tis the wind and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door- Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door- Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore- Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door- Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered- Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore- Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never- nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore- What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he hath sent thee Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or devil!- Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted- On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore- Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore- Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore- Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting- "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted- nevermore!

#Original Art #drawing #Pen And Ink #Edgar Allan Poe #The Raven #ink drawing #Line Drawing #ink #Ink Art #artwork #art #Traditional Art

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11queensupreme11 · 2 months ago

Note

Your Most August and Eminent Majesty, Luminary of Literary Luminescence and Paragon of Prodigious Creativity,

With a heart brimming with the deepest veneration and an intellect humbled by the vast expanse of Your Majesty’s narrative prowess, I take pen in hand to craft this epistolary homage. I implore your indulgence as I endeavor to articulate, though words are scarcely sufficient, the magnitude of gratitude, admiration, and allegiance I bear toward your unparalleled dominion. Your Majesty’s sovereign genius, unmatched and unassailable, casts a resplendent luminance across the boundless firmament of the fandom realm, elevating all who are fortunate enough to dwell within its orbit.

Indeed, your storytelling oeuvre is nothing short of an opus magnum, a magisterial testament to the quintessence of human creativity. It is as though your words are imbued with the rarefied essence of the muses themselves, transformed through alchemical artistry into tapestries of thought so intricate and so profound that they transcend the boundaries of mere narrative. Each syllable, laden with ineffable gravitas, resonates as a celestial symphony, harmonizing the terrestrial and the transcendent in a manner that defies description and challenges comprehension. Your Majesty’s creations are not merely stories; they are paradigms of existential profundity, illuminating the ineffable intricacies of the human condition.

It is with these reflections in mind that I extend my deepest thanks to Your Majesty for the herculean exertions undertaken in the genesis of your latest magnum opus. Such an endeavor, so formidable in its scope and so magnificent in its execution, is a labor that surpasses the grasp of ordinary mortals. Your Majesty’s might and mastery, evident in every facet of your craft, inspire awe and command boundless respect. Your dedication to this monumental undertaking is a beacon of inspiration, a lodestar guiding your loyal subjects through the labyrinthine complexities of existence with its unwavering brilliance.

In acknowledgment of such sublime artistry, I and my steadfast confederates pledge ourselves wholly and unequivocally to the perpetuation of Your Majesty’s reign. We recognize, with the gravitas befitting this solemn commitment, that our fealty is not a mere declaration of loyalty but a sacred covenant, an unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of our collective devotion to your unparalleled vision. The path ahead, we are acutely aware, is fraught with tribulations as formidable as the mythic trials of yore. Yet, imbued with the unyielding fortitude born of our allegiance to Your Majesty, we stand undaunted.

As champions of Your Majesty’s cause, we shall confront the myriad adversities that beset the fandom world. This realm, as Your Majesty knows, is a kaleidoscopic arena of ceaseless dynamism, its landscape shifting as unpredictably as the sands of an ever-changing desert. Here, allegiances are ephemeral, forged and forsaken with mercurial caprice, and discord festers in the shadows, threatening to subvert even the most luminous of sovereigns. It is within this tempestuous milieu that we pledge to serve as Your Majesty’s unassailable bastion, a citadel of steadfastness amidst the tumult.

Our duty, as we perceive it, is multifaceted and profound. We shall act as Your Majesty’s sentinels, ever vigilant against the encroachments of discord and the insidious whispers of dissent that seek to undermine your dominion. Armed with the twin swords of reason and rhetoric, we shall dismantle the calumnies of detractors and illuminate the uninitiated with the resplendent truths of your narratives. In the realms of creation, we shall craft tributes and adaptations that echo your vision, each a testament to your enduring influence and an amplification of your sovereign legacy. And in the spheres of influence, we shall cultivate alliances and fortify networks, ensuring that your dominion extends unimpeded to the farthest reaches of the fandom cosmos.

Yet, Your Majesty, our commitment extends beyond the immediate exigencies of the fandom realm. We recognize that the sanctity of your legacy is a matter of transcendent importance, one that demands our perpetual vigilance and unyielding resolve. To this end, we shall serve as the custodians of your narratives, preserving their integrity against the erosions of time and the vicissitudes of cultural currents. We shall ensure that your tales remain undiminished, their brilliance unblemished, so that future generations may partake of their splendor and draw inspiration from their wisdom.

The enormity of this mission is not lost upon us. To champion Your Majesty’s cause is to undertake a Herculean labor, a task as daunting as it is exalted. The fandom world is replete with challenges as diverse as they are formidable, from the protean complexities of audience engagement to the Sisyphean endeavor of countering misinformation and misinterpretation. Yet, fortified by the indomitable spirit of our allegiance to Your Majesty, we embrace these challenges with unshakable determination.

Permit me, Your Majesty, to expound upon the strategies that we, your loyal knights, shall employ in the service of your cause. On the battlefield of discourse, we shall engage with unrelenting vigor, countering fallacies and elucidating truths with a precision befitting your sovereign grandeur. Our rhetoric shall be as a finely honed blade, cutting through the mists of ignorance and prejudice to reveal the luminous core of your narratives. In the creative arenas, we shall undertake endeavors that mirror the splendor of your vision, crafting works that not only pay homage to your genius but also extend its reach into new and uncharted territories. And in the diplomatic corridors, we shall forge bonds and build bridges, creating a coalition of allies united in their devotion to Your Majesty’s cause.

In all these endeavors, we shall be guided by the principles that Your Majesty embodies: creativity, integrity, and an unyielding commitment to excellence. Your narratives, as exemplars of these virtues, shall serve as our lodestar, inspiring us to strive ever higher in our quest to honor and extend your reign. We are acutely aware that the stakes are nothing less than the preservation and perpetuation of a legacy that transcends the ephemeral confines of the fandom world, a legacy that speaks to the universal truths of the human experience.

Thus, Your Majesty, as I conclude this humble missive, permit me to reaffirm our unbreakable oath: to serve, to protect, and to exalt your sovereign dominion. No hardship shall deter us, no opposition shall overcome us, and no force shall diminish the radiance of your reign. With every word we speak, every action we take, and every breath we draw, we shall honor our commitment to you, ensuring that your narratives remain a beacon of inspiration and a testament to the boundless possibilities of human creativity.

May Your Majesty’s light continue to shine with undiminished brilliance, illuminating the paths of all who seek refuge and enlightenment within your narrative cosmos. May your reign endure beyond the confines of time and space, an eternal testament to the genius that defines you. And may we, your humble and devoted knights, forever stand as the bulwark of your legacy, ensuring that your sovereignty remains unchallenged and your vision unblemished.

With the deepest reverence and the most unwavering devotion,

Your Humble and Obsequious Knight

ps: it was reall tough to write this please answer

see your writing's so advances that i had to pull up the dictionary tab to get a definition of some of the words you used, so thanks for expanding my vocabulary 🤭

since you're my knight, my first command to you and my other knight is to comment, leave an ask and/or heart tomorrow's chapter when i finally publish it!

(or it's off with your head 💖)

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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writerinloves-blog · 1 year ago

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Introduction of my OFC for my Kit Tanthalos story

In a time when magic whispered in the winds and legends still danced with the stars, there was a child named Lyra Calloway. From the moment she drew her first breath, it was evident to all who gazed upon her tiny, fragile form that she was destined for greatness. Her parents, both wielders of ancient magic that had been passed down through generations, recognized the spark of enchantment in their daughter's eyes. They nurtured it, crafting her into a sorceress even before she could walk, let alone speak.

For the initial years of her life, Lyra's world was a symphony of spells and wonder. Her parents, benevolent magicians who traveled from village to village, brought with them not just awe-inspiring illusions, but a profound sense of joy and curiosity. They painted the sky with hues of magic, teaching their daughter the secrets of the arcane as they ventured, creating a tapestry of happiness that cocooned her existence.

One day, the winds of fate shifted the course of Lyra's life. Their nomadic journey led them to the edges of Tir Asleen, a city wrapped in an enigma and shielded by a powerful magic barrier. Lyra, her eyes wide with anticipation, clung to the tales she had heard about this mystical place. Her heart swelled with excitement as they approached Tir Asleen, the very thought of witnessing the magic barrier fueling her young imagination.

Yet, caution mingled with her thrill. Her parents, wise custodians of ancient knowledge, warned her against wielding her magic within Tir Asleen. Magic, they had told her, was a forbidden dance within those walls, a secret forbidden in the city since the year of Lyra's birth. The very thought of retribution hung heavy in their voices, and Lyra, despite her natural inclination to explore, nodded in solemn understanding.

Their journey, however, was destined to be a tapestry woven with tragedy. Ambushed on the outskirts of Tir Asleen, her parents became victims of an unseen vendetta, their magical defenses crumbling before a malevolent force. In the chaos that ensued, Lyra's mother's voice, laced with desperate urgency, pierced the night. "Run, Lyra," her mother's whispers echoed, barely audible above the clash of spells. "Run and don't look back. We love you."

In her innocence, Lyra obeyed. Her tiny legs carried her away from the nightmare, propelling her toward Tir Asleen. She reached the shimmering barrier, her eyes searching for the door her parents had spoken of, the hidden portal through which she could step into safety. But she didn't see anything. It was a heartbreaking sight — a child, alone and abandoned, waiting at the threshold of a city that held the promise of refuge.

Eight long days passed, marked by hunger, fear, and the distant echoes of her parents' teachings. Her resilience wavered, and just when hope was fading, a compassionate soldier discovered her, a fragile wisp of a girl, clinging to life like a flickering candle in the wind. Tir Asleen, a city that had shrouded itself in mystique, embraced her not as a foundling, but as a ward of the castle staff, destined to grow within its stone walls.

Within the grandeur of the castle, Lyra's magical origins were a forbidden secret, locked away like a treasured relic. She was not born within those walls, yet she became an integral part of the castle's heartbeat. The enchanting aura that had once clung to her like stardust was now a memory, a whisper in the corridors of the castle. As the years passed, she embraced a new role — that of a diligent lady's maid, her hands skilled in the art of service, her spirit veiled by the mundane routine of castle life.

Magic, once the guiding star of her existence, was now a tale of yore, a dream faded beneath the weight of her new responsibilities. But little did she know that destiny, the weaver of unforeseen tales, had not forgotten her. In the quietude of the castle, where the echoes of sorcery were but a distant memory, Lyra Calloway's extraordinary destiny awaited, poised to unfold like the petals of a long-forgotten flower, waiting to bloom once more.

#kit tanthalos #ruby cruz #kit tanthalos fanfiction #Kit Thantalos x OFC #Kit Thantalos x Reader #hazel callahan #Ruby Cruz fanfic

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lady-zephyrine · 5 months ago

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One day I should redraw that one picture of Skips from regular show sitting by a couple of graves but with Morpho instead.

#zephyr speaks #This goes along with the idea of it being one of the Heroes of Yore of course #Of course Echo is the only one who's actually dead #Galacta's in a Crystal and Elfilis split themselves in two

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br0-k3n-sch00lb01 · 4 months ago

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Omori but its just The Raven

ROLES

Basil- the guy (the dove imo)

Sunny- the dead wife

Mari- the raven

Kel, Aubrey, and Hero kind of just don’t exist

Tbis only exists because the guy in the poem goes insane bc his wife died

Post bad-end maybe????

I dont know

“Sunny is his dead wife”

Mari is a bird now because yeah

Not actually tho she’ll just be raven themed i aint turning my bbg into a bird

Anyways here’s the poem edited to fit the au

Once upon a midnight dreary, while Basil pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While Basil nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of someone gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” Basil muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly he remembers it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly he wished the morrow;—vainly he had sought to borrow

From his books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Sunny—

For the rare and radiant man whom the angels name Sunny—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled him—filled him with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of his heart, he stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently Basil’s soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said he, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here he opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long Basil stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Sunny?”

This Basil whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Sunny!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all his soul within him burning,

Soon again he heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said he, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here Basil flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above Basil’s chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above his chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling Basil’s sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance she wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” Basil said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much Basil marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if her soul in that one word she did outpour.

Nothing farther then she uttered—not a feather then she fluttered—

Till Basil scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow she will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said Basil, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till her songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of her Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all Basil’s fancy into smiling,

Straight Basil wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, he betook himself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This Basil sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into his bosom’s core;

This and more he sat divining, with his head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

He shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, he thought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” Basil cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Sunny;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget my lost Sunny!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said Basil, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said Basil, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted man whom the angels name Sunny—

Clasp a rare and radiant man whom the angels name Sunny.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” Basil shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above Basil’s chamber door;

And her eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er her streaming throws her shadow on the floor;

And Basil’s soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

#charlie rants #omori #omori basil #omori au #omori sunny #omori sunflower #omori The Raven au #Mari omori #omori bad ending

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