#creed of ouroboros

[cobra-wives]

throwing this one at ya for funsies and because its fun imagery ive been so self indulgent about but i love imagining krilver with cannibalism and/or religious imagery. silver at the foot of kreeses altar... usurping his god... type shit (the dojos general cult vibes also. helps)

and. cannibalism as metaphor for greed and toxic love type shit. also cobras and shit. hell yeah

(i love cannibalistic religious imagery in general so im just beaming it to the faves LOL)

wanted to give this ask some time to simmer but OHH YES YES YES I AM HERE FOR THIS!!!!!! u know i love me some religious imagery; so many themes of salvation/deliverance/creed that you can cross between ck being a cult and also like,, the whole jesus/john thing they have going on that eventually fades to like jesus/judas (brrr. i scream) like i'm honestly surprised myself that i havent done a redraw of the fuckinnn judas kiss. what am i doing. I GOTTA GET TO IT

oof and do not get me STARTED on cannibalism and krilver fbsjfbsjbdhb.... tying w/ the religious imagery as well like ouugh. love ouroboros imagery here with the two snakes eating each other, the cycle continuing, the bodiness of it all. i also just think these two want each other in their mouths and would fit each other in so completely they'd become sick of it. take that last statement with layer of metaphor or with a bottle of lube and a prayer.

[tumblezwei]

Bear with me I'm about to go insane for a few paragraphs.

Actually scratch that I meant a lot of paragraphs, because this became so much longer than I intended.

A thing that Honkai Star Rail is utterly obsessed with doing is masking the involvement of Aeons in certain events or encounters with their own personal symbolic language. If you read a piece of text and it mentions amber or constructing walls, for example, you can be pretty confident that it's referencing Qilpoth. Similarly, mentions of flapping wings, multicolored material, or things smelling of fruit is likely in reference to Tayzzyronth.

The Swarm Disaster in particular is rife with this shit. You can drive yourself insane reading through Trailblaze Secrets trying to parse through whether this line is meant to refer to something, or if you've been staring for way too long and need to slow down. In particular you can drive yourself insane looking for references to Terminus the Finality.

Terminus in kind of annoying because they don't have an entry in the Data Bank, but they are referenced well enough that we know a decent cursory amount about them. The main facts being that they somehow exist and move backwards in time, they are currently asleep and murmur prophecies, and they have two factions: the Omen Vanguard and the Creed Exequy.

The symbols we can generally look out for when it comes to Finality are concepts of time moving backward, prophecies, and, of course, references to "finality."

And to add more context to what I'm about to say, I have to mention that the Finality is all over the Swarm Disaster (so is HooH the Equilibrium but I don't care about them right now). In one of the Trailblaze Secrets we learn than an Omen Vanguard managed to hear and decode part of the prophecy murmured by Terminus and tried to spread that prophecy to members of the genius Society, but all who learned of it were killed by Polka Kakamond along with the Omen Vanguard. And like, the same part has Finality prophesying Tayzzyronth's death, which maybe implies that this prophecy is what caused the whole Swarm Disaster in the first place. But I'm also not a great theorycrafter so take that with a massive grain of salt.

The point for this post being, Terminus is connected to Tazzyronth in terms of their possible role in the Swarm Disaster.

Why bring all of this up? Because I watched "the "Fables About the Stars" again.

This trailer is unique among the many Hoyo have put out because it's one of the best jumping off points we have to sorting out the different symbols and motifs used by the Aeons featured in it. One of whom is mentioned three separate times without being explicitly shown. And I bet you can guess who.

The final minute of the trailer, after the Harmony, we get a rush of lines and images about the unplayable Aeons that are likely important to HSR's story. The images and titles that flash by are, in order, Aha the Elation, Ouroboros the Voracity, Idrila the Beauty, Tayzzronth the Propagation, Mythus the Enigmata, HooH the Equilibrium, Fuli the Remembrance, and finally, Akivili the Trailblaze.

"But that's weird," you think. "Where are those mentions of the Finality you talked about?" And that, my fellow mentally ill friends, is where this gets fun for me. Because when you turn on closed captions for that video, almost each reference to an Aeon that Black Swan says is accompanied by another phrase in parenthesis. No other Aeon earlier in the video gets this, it's just the Aeons in that last minute.

Now, some of these are in reference to the Aeon that the line in Black Swan's poem is referring to. But others, in my opinion, are referring to one Aeon in particular.

Aha -

Ouroboros -

Tazzyronth -

Mythus -

The first reference to Finality I think appears is right after "the mariner's intemperance" with this line:

"End of All Things" seems pretty Finality-coded to me. Why they are referred to as "the infant" I can't tell you. maybe something to do with how they exist backwards in time. Much like the prophecy given on Tayzzronth, perhaps Finality's existence predates their birth. Another strange aspect of this line is it's transition into Idrila, who doesn't seem to get a reference at all. The glass shattering into their title might imply that they are "the mirror," something suported by the fact that one of The Beauty's factions is called the Mirror Holders, but I don't really know enough to be confident about that. Considering Idrila is one of the missing Aeons, we can maybe take this line as a hint that Finality also had a role in Idrila's disappearance.

The next reference I've already shown. Just after Idrila we have the line introducing the Propagation, and the phrase (as they enter the dream (Consciousness)." If my ramblings about the Swarm Disaster previously were coherent enough, you might have already connected the dots on this one. If Terminus was indeed responsible for Tayzzronth's ascent to Aeonhood, then this line can be ready fairly literally. To put it in less flowery words: "Listen to the Propagation as it spawns into existence."

The third reference is thus:

Now, "the shapeless prince" is a reference to HooH, of that I'm....mostly certain. And what makes me the most certain is the next phrase "Against the Current." The concept of "currents" being another fun little symbolic reference to Terminus.

Reading more into the Swarm Disaster, you can also begin to see that HooH, alongside Ena the Order, is greatly involved in the Propagation's demise. Tayzzronth's appearance disrupted the equilibrium of the universe, and obviously that's HooH's whole shtick. So Terminus (who flows backwards in time) murmurs a prophecy that spawns Tayzzronth into existence, and HooH (Against the Current) participates in Tayzzronth's destruction. You see what I mean?

And that's. Really it. As a closing note, you know what else is fun? Outside of Idrila (maybe, neither I nor the other lore enthusiasts I follow have quite parsed that out), each Aeon mentioned in that last minute of the Fables About the Stars trailer has a role in the Swarm Disaster. Aha, of course, was one of the key players who was brought on by Ena and further recruited Akivili for help. Ouroboros was created because of the Swarm Disaster. Followers of the Enigmata are mentioned creating false histories of the disaster (this one is my personal theory). HooH as previously explained. And Fuli because of this one particular Trailblaze Secret which might have been about Akivili falling into IX and Fuli grabbing their memories before they were consumed, but honestly this post is long enough and I'll explain that one later if people are interested.

But uh, yeah. The Swarm Disaster has made me go a little nuts and so has the Finality.

[kitausuret]

I was tagged by @krisseratops to share my ten favorite characters from ten different fandoms! So let's go!

1. Flash Thompson (Marvel Comics)

2. Kassandra (Assassin's Creed: Odyssey)

3. J'onn J'onzz | Martian Manhunter (DC Comics)

4. Odo (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine)

5. Princess Leia Organa (Star Wars)

6. Athena Grant (9-1-1 [Fox Network])

7. Ryuji Sakamoto (Persona 5)

8. Masayoshi Tanimura (Yakuza 4)

9. Yellow Amarillo (Pocket Monsters Special manga)

10. Sharon Goodwin (Chicago Med)

Tried to get a good variety in here. :P The other part of the challenge was to tag 10 people, but my mutuals web is kind of an ouroboros so... If you wanna do this, go ahead LOL

Also you may see a bunch of these are characters I don't really blog about, so if you ever wanna ask me questions about any of them, my ask box is open!

[setaflow]

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms, 10 Tags

Good morning!

Tagged by @ghostoffuturespast on my main blog and both @seeker-of-truth and @ouroboros-hideout on my sideblog-- for the sake of keeping everything jointed I'll post this on my main lol.

Buckle in folks this one's a doozy.

Connor Kenway/Ratonhnhaké:ton (Assassin's Creed III)

Even as the years go by, Connor was the character I made a Tumblr account for and pretty much the only reason I bother still paying attention to Assassin's Creed as a franchise anymore. I was there, man. I was there when everyone in the fandom and their mothers hated this guy, but I will still defend him even with my goddamn life. Characters that go through intense tragedy after intense tragedy and still come out the other side gentle and optimistic are my lifeblood.

2. Johnny Silverhand (Cyberpunk 2077)

(People who follow me for my sideblog make a Surprised Pikachu Face at this placement) My gross rat bastard man I love you I hate you I love you. An intensely tortured character with arguably more negative personality traits than positive ones, but who he is and even why he is is so engaging and tragic that you almost forget he's supposed to be getting on your nerves for most of the game's runtime. Damn you Keanu Reeves and your effortless dorky charisma.

3. Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption 2)

Arthur baby you deserved the world. An insanely complex character with gray morals and a jaded worldview who could never do right no matter how hard he tried until the one moment where it mattered most. I loved John in RDR1 and didn't really expect to get so attached to Arthur, but R* truly did grab me by the shoulders and said "Bet, bitch". To this day, the fact that I never finished that 200k+ word OC fic disguised as an Arthur character study still haunts me.

4. Korra (Avatar: The Legend of Korra)

As someone who'd watched the original Last Airbender series as it aired when I was a kid, I was super excited for a female Avatar when the series was announced back in...god, was I in high school? The point being-- when the show started really hitting it's stride with Korra's character in season 3 I was beyond hooked, and I loved season 4 probably a lot more than I think I should've, but MAN, was it a fun ride. Korra is a character and a show that both got severely panned and honestly I think once you get out of the mindset that you aren't watching Aang 2.0 you'll have a much funner time.

5. Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

Maybe not as much in later seasons when they really leaned off his popularity + Joe Keery's charisma, but lemme tell y'all season 2 Steve had me in a bonafide stranglehold for two years. "Character stepping up to a leadership role and then getting forcibly adopted by the people they're leading" is one of my favorite tropes and the reason that it worked so well in S2 is partly because the concern of Steve still kinda/sorta had the potential to swing back towards being the bully archetype he showed shades of in S1, so you got to see his relationship with the kids start off as kinda selfish but grow into a genuine protectiveness. GOD this was a top tier man y'all! We had it so good!

6. Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn 99)

Maybe this is coming off the fact that my roommate and I literally just finished binge watching B99 for like the fifth time? But I forgot how much I actually really liked Rosa. One of the best sitcom deadpan snarkers of recent years and I personally liked that they affirmed that she didn't need to see herself settling down to be happy. I'm glad this role basically launched Stephanie Beatriz's career because she truly is the unsung hero of this show's comedy and heart and never really gets enough credit for it imho.

7. Melissa Schemmenti (Abbott Elementary)

Every single time I watch Abbott Elementary. Every. Single. Time. Someone looks at me when Schemmenti appears on screen and goes "Wow, she acts a lot like you do!". And I have to sigh and nod and pretend I don't see it lol. Though unfortunately our differing football opinions means we would probably end up in a fistfight.

8. Takashi "Shiro" Shirogane (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

I will never forgive the VLD showrunners for dropping a nuke on Shiro's character development. Seasons 1-2 Shiro was some of most fun I've ever had following a protagionist's journey to conquer his inner struggles and solely for that, I still have a massive soft spot for him. Dreamworks think about how you massacred my boy and feel bad for it.

9. Benjamin "Benji" Ovich (Beartown Series)

This gif is from the HBO Nordic series (haven't watched it, desperately still want to, don't know if I even can at this point lol), but I'm specifically talking about Benji from the Beartown book trilogy. He evolves into the series deuteragonist alongside Maya and god, he is just such a tragic character who deserves all the world and more. Go read Beartown and scream at me for it.

10. Joey Tribbiani (Friends)

"Characters I See a Lot of Myself In 2: Electric Boogaloo". Joey is the best friend in the entire cast there I said it. Honestly my ideal relationship is a funny overly-assured man who loves the New York Rangers, loves his friends intensely, and has dumb himbo energy. The loud Italian family is just an added bonus.

Uhhhhh who hasn't been tagged yet sorry guys I was late to the party on this one lmao.

[merfolkplantgay]

Book recommendation: Alamut, which was written by Slovenian author Vladimir Bartol in 1938 and set in the Middle East, which he never even visited. The book explores themes and allegories of anti-fascism, and also heavily inspired the original Assassin's Creed and the Assamite clan in Vampire: the Masquerade.

But also for the last part - the "can of worms" - I would say it's not because authors are evil or harbor some secret agenda but because they are inspired by 1) other media that came before and 2) places where they lived and thus consider the "default", and then places where they only read about or briefly visited feel much more untamed and wild.

Writing is not just about thinking about the most creative & unprecedented world to build, or about intellectually building a world that addresses faults or shortcomings of the genre. It also comes from the heart, it comes from familiarity, the old "write what you know" adage isn't for nothing.

So authors make the familiar their "Point A" and build the world around that, and put in various locations inspired by tropes that already exist. It's not a sin, it's just that most authors are not hobbyist worldbuilders, nor are they historians or political analysts, and we cannot expect every author to be all of those things.

Also, it's a bit of a complainer's ouroboros when you think about it - on the one hand, taking inspiration and elements from various cultures around the world will now often get authors accused of cultural appropriation or insensitivity, but writing what you know and you're familiar with will get you the above.

Honestly personally I think an American author from California or whatever has about as much of a finger on the pulse of European medieval life as they do of life in any other region at the time, so they might as well go wild. European-based fantasy is often just as much of a poorly-interpreted mishmash of things as any other. (See also that post about English-speaking nobility with French rules in German castles using Italian weaponry with art and buildings and titles from hundreds of centuries apart.)

👀

[atelierouroboros]

Origine

L’idée de la microédition m’est venue dès 2005 comme toute première expérience éditoriale (à l’époque je n’avais encore rien publié) , avec un encouragement de Benoît Jacques qui me vantait alors les vertus de l’auto édition. Sauf que mon premier essai « L’homme qui cherchait sa tête », imprimé en offset à 1000 exemplaires (pas vraiment de la microédition!) en leporello s’est avéré compliqué à présenter par les libraires (« on ne sait pas comment le présenter, on ne peut pas le mettre en rayons »). A suivi un autre titre, « Monsieur » photocopié en noir et blanc (plus proche du fanzine). Mais le travail induit par une telle démarche : diffusion, présentation sur les salons… n ‘était pas vraiment conciliable avec mon métier d’enseignant en arts appliqués et mon envie de voir mes livres exister.

C’est une époque où j’ai privilégié les collaborations avec des collectifs (café creed, le cheval de quatre) et des éditeurs (Alain Beaulet, Viltis bd) . Déléguant le travail éditorial à une autre personne. Ne planchant que sur des projets signés ou validés avec un éditeur. L’atelier Ouroboros a été laissé au repos.

Ce n’est qu’en 2022, en découvrant le processus d’impression en risographie, que l’idée de fabriquer, façonner, mes propres bandes dessinées revient dans mon esprit. C’est aussi une époque où je fais l’expérience désagréable d’un de mes livres pilonné (Redbone). Révolté, je décide de travailler désormais seul, à petite échelle, pour retrouver un sens à ma pratique d’auteur. Je prend un projet longtemps laissé dans un tiroir car refusé par les éditeurs : Marcher (datant de 2014). J’imprime un premier chapitre de 12 pages, sans aucune expérience de la riso. Ce sera Marcher 1, A line made by living.

Je deviens ainsi mon propre graphiste, éditeur et diffuseur. C’est dans cet élan que me viendra également le désir de mener une revue sur le dessin, de façon collective, ce qui donnera Oooo la revue qui regarde le dessin. https://www.tumblr.com/larevuequiregardeledessin

Je découvre alors le plaisir de créer petit mais mieux. Le sens du livre, la reliure cousue à la main, l’artisanat de la petite édition, le contact direct avec un public, le goût du simple et la main sur l’entièreté du processus éditorial, le « final Cut ».

Thibault Balahy

Photo par Alban Balahy, Etaules 2022.

[a-m-pyra]

Well hello. I just wanted to say that I did super trouper The House of Ouroboros UOST playlist.

That's it. Enjoy, sweeties.

[archi-pelago]

its been a minute

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 26: sometimes i get so tired, i don't even know myself

Working to Exhaustion

2330 Words; Ouroboros AU

TW for violence, bloodsport, exploitation, murder, death

AO3 ver

“Next one’s heavy.”

Dion grunted as another box was dropped into his arms. “They’re all heavy.” He muttered, carrying it over to the shelf. But he didn’t have to carry it far, and it wasn’t that heavy. It was kind of big, though, high enough to press against Dion’s mask.

The other guy on unloading duty—Hunter? It was hard to tell, when they were all wearing the same plain white masks—whistled. “I swear, it’s like you never stop.” He commented, as Dion shoved the box into place. “The fuck did they feed you in your old life?”

“...food?” Dion pulled out his boxcutter to cut the box open.

Hunter chuckled. “A kid your age does not just handle heavy boxes like that.” He insisted.

Most people Dion’s age also didn’t have a body count, but that was besides the point. Dion rolled his eyes behind his mask.

There was always something to do in Ouroboros. And if Dion wanted to live, then he needed to be doing something. And he needed to live, no matter what—if Dion didn’t survive, then Mirtala would be the only Aquato in Ouroboros. And he couldn’t—he wouldn’t let her be left alone here. Not if he could help it.

(Mirtala didn’t deserve to be here at all, but there was nothing Dion could do on that front. His powerlessness would drive him crazy if he wasn’t able to at least provide for her.)

“Right, this one’s gotta be at least a little heavy to you.” Hunter grunted, slowly sliding the next box off the stack to pass to Dion.

Dion took the box, wincing slightly. Yeah, this one was kind of heavy—he wouldn’t want to carry that many boxes like it. But Dion knew how to handle heavy things. It was part and parcel of growing up in the circus, after all, from equipment to the other members of his family. Frazie was at least as heavy as this box, probably. Dion hadn’t had the chance to lift her in a while. Maybe she had gotten heavier, gotten the kind of muscle to make girls swoon over her.

(Dion swallowed that thought down. With any luck, he might never see Frazie again—which was for the better, because the day any more of his family ended up in Ouroboros was a day that Dion never wanted to see.)

Dion shoved the box into place on the shelf, pausing for a moment once it was in place. Still, it wasn’t that heavy.

(Queepie might have handled the weight better than Dion—

Dion shoved that thought away immediately. Queepie would be turning four soon; he should be nowhere near Ouroboros, ever. None of his family should, really—none of them but Dion.)

“Heavy, right?” Hunter prompted, already holding the next box.

Dion grunted, pulling his boxcutter out once again. So what if it was? He could handle it. He had to handle it.

Hunter shook his head. “Kids.” He grumbled. “You’re going to run smack into a wall with that kind of attitude.”

Whatever. Dion would be fine.

He had to be—there was no other way. If he slowed down for even a moment, if he let weakness show—

Dion took the next box. He’d survive.

No matter what.

+=+=+=+=+

Mirtala came back that night with a fresh bruise on her arm, her hair still damp from her shower.

“Tala—” Dion started. Stopped, his words catching on the knot of feelings in his throat. He reached out. Stopped.

Mirtala stared at him with tired eyes. She sat down on her bedroll, not saying a thing.

Dion looked away. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t want to encourage this. He never wanted Mirtala anywhere near the arena—she only just turned six. It was Dion’s job, his responsibility to take care of her—and every time she stepped into that arena, he failed.

What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

(An apology might be a good start.

But Dion had always been a coward when it came to apologies.)

Dion’s jaw worked, his shoulders tensing. He should say something—

Too late. Mirtala laid down on her own cot, facing away from him. She huffed, curling up without a word.

I’m sorry. Dion wanted to say it. He needed to say it.

I’m sorry. The words got stuck in his throat.

Dion clenched his hands into fists, his eyes darting away from where Mirtala was lying—

Wait. “Um.” He managed, the sound of his voice surprising even himself. “Do you… do you want your unicorn?” Mirtala usually always grabbed it, when the light in their room started to fade. Dion couldn’t fathom why it was on his cot.

Mirtala rolled over, squinting at Dion. “Her name is Francis III.” She muttered.

“Oh.” Shit, when did Mirtala name it? How long ago? Wow, Dion felt like an idiot. His face was already heating up. “Well, do you want Francis III?” He really needed to apologize.

“No.” Mirtala said. She blinked, and yawned. “But you do.” And with that, she rolled back over, pulling the blanket tight around herself.

Dion swallowed. He grabbed Francis III, running his thumb over the felt strips making up the mane. One of the Wolves had gifted it to Mirtala when they had first gotten here—Dion looked over at his baby sister, who was the nicest person he’d ever known, and he could guess why. Even if she wasn’t his responsibility, he still wanted her to get the best that she could. Mirtala was just easy to spoil like that.

And yet he still couldn’t find the words to talk to her…

Dion looked Francis III in her beady little button eyes. He wanted to put the plush into Mirtala’s arms, adjust the blanket around her like he was tucking her in—anything to prove that he wasn’t an awful brother.

But he just sat there instead, choking on the knot in his throat.

Like a coward.

+=+=+=+=+

Dion looked up at the sound of footsteps, the mop coming to a stop.

He immediately looked back down, moving the mop again the moment he saw who was waling across the tiled floor. Oh, god, was this the end? Was he somehow mopping wrong? Or was it just fun to torment him?

Creed came to a stop not far from Dion, hands folded behind his back.

Dion continued mopping. If Creed wanted him to stop, he’d say so. Probably.

“Boy.” Creed started. Dion gripped the handle of the mop harder. “Look at me.”

Dion lifted his eyes to meet Creed’s dark brown. He paused in his mopping—he needed to rewet the mop in the bucket again, anyway—and waited to see what Creed would do.

Creed’s eyes flicked over Dion. He immediately felt like an ant confronting a boot—certain doom was all that awaited him, now.

“You’ve got a fight tonight.” Creed commented airily. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to… recuperate.”

It had been a while since Dion had had a fight—he hadn’t been scheduled for the last two Death Pits. And he wasn’t allowed back into the regular fights—though Dion really didn’t want to think about that.

“Okay.” Dion said, hating the way it sounded so small in the empty air. “I’ll be ready.”

(He wouldn’t, not really—he never was.

But Dion didn’t survive by waiting until he was ready—he couldn’t. Either he got his head above water, or he drowned—and Dion refused to drown. He’d survive however he needed to.)

“Good boy.” Creed nodded. He turned around and began to walk away—

“Oh,” Creed paused, “And this next fight?”

Dion looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“Win it.” Creed growled. “Your opponent isn’t meant to make it out of that arena alive, you got it?”

Winning was what Dion normally did, though? Dion stared at Creed a moment longer, then nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He confirmed, still unsure why Creed felt the need to tell him this.

“Good.” And with that, Creed left.

Doubts and uncertainties floated around in Dion’s head. He was finally going back in the ring, and the notion terrified and excited him in equal measure. He could finally get ahead just a little bit more—but he’d have to kill someone to do so.

(Well, it wasn’t like Dion’s hands weren’t already covered in blood.

He would survive. He had to.)

Dion sighed.

Back to work.

+=+=+=+=+

Dion waited for the gate to rise. The bars of the gate casted shadows across him, the audience already a loud din outside. It sounded bigger than usual, too, which grated on Dion’s nerves. He watched as another gate opened and his opponent-to-be was forced into the arena, stumbling across the sand. His own gate hadn’t opened, yet—god, Dion hoped it wasn’t broken.

The announcer was saying something, now, trying to get the audience to chant—

“DEATH! BY! LION!”

Dion went rigid. Suddenly, the earlier interaction with Creed made a lot more sense.

But… why him? Surely Creed had more popular fighters, more capable fighters—

The gate began to rise. No more time to doubt. Dion walked out into the arena, out into the lights hanging down, the cage bars casting shadows across him—

The audience ROARED.

“AND THE LION MAKES HIS RETURN!” The announcer cheered. “Let’s see some BLOOD!”

Dion’s opponent stood, staring at him through their orange and blue Ox mask. They snorted.

“This is it?” They asked. “This is the big bad Lion?” Derision colored their voice. Dion’s face flushed behind his mask, his hands squeezing into fists. “You’re just some kid!”

“And you’re dead meat.” Dion snarled. It was him or them, and Dion had no intention of losing.

The Ox broke out into a charge, raising their hand. Metal glinted in the light, and they swung down—

Dion ducked out of the way, rolling to the side and using his hands to spring up onto a hanging cord. The “Jungle Arena” was full of hanging cords and bars, like some twisted trapeze, and Dion was quick to fling himself up out of the Ox’ reach.

You’d think I was the Leopard, with the way I’m climbing around. Dion thought to himself, coming to a stop halfway up the rope. He looked down at the Ox, considering what to do.

Him or them. Dion would survive, no matter what.

He was supposed to make a show of it, too.

The Ox bellowed, grabbing the rope Dion was on. They yanked—

And Dion twisted over to the next rope with practiced ease. He didn’t want to have a favorite arena—he didn’t want to be in the arenas at all, really—but if he had to choose, it was probably this one. So many things to climb, so many ways to fling himself around!

(The arena that Mirtala made her official debut was similar, but Dion didn’t want to think about Mirtala in any arena.)

The Ox couldn’t climb as well as Dion could—if they could at all, seeing as they weren’t even trying—so Dion couldn’t lead them on a merry chase through the ropes and bars. So much for that idea.

Still, how to make this look good?

The audience was chanting, jeering, roaring for blood and violence and death. It was either Dion or the Ox—and Dion intended to win.

“That might work…” Dion muttered, flipping over backwards onto one of the hanging bars. He lifted himself up so that he was doing a handstand on it, allowing his legs to hook onto another bar higher up. He let go of the bar and looked down on the Ox.

“Are you even trying?” He jeered, “Surely you can take out ‘some kid’!” He flipped over to a knotted rope, then flung himself with a forwards flip onto a sideways one. The tightropes back home were way narrower than this. Confidence filled Dion as he paced along it, the Ox yelling below him.

“Get down here!” They shouted. “You little shit!”

Dion laughed. The sound shocked him, escaping his throat before he even recognized what it was.

What was he doing? This was a life-or-death situation! The cage bars cast shadows across the arena. The audience was cheering, jeering, roaring. Dion’s mask pressed against his face.

Fuck this. Fuck putting on a show. Dion wasn’t here to entertain, for all that Creed wanted him to. He was in here to survive, dammit!

With a cry, Dion flung himself down. He rolled as he fell, kicking out as he landed to hit the Ox square in the back. The impact flung him away, and he rolled with the impact, springing up off the floor at the soonest opportunity.

The Ox whirled around to face him, snarling through their mask. Dion darted to the side, cartwheeling up onto one of the ropes. They charged, and instead of climbing up Dion flung himself onto their shoulders when they passed, locking his ankles together in front of their face.

The Ox reached up, trying to pull Dion off—

Dion squeezed his thighs together. The Ox’ hands scrambled against Dion’s legs, prying uselessly at his boots—

Crack!

Dion jumped away as the body fell, flipping over backwards. That probably looked cool, right?

The audience was cheering. The chant from earlier returned, harsh against Dion’s ears.

“DEATH! BY! LION! DEATH! BY! LION!”

Across the arena, the gate rose. Dion stared up at the audience for only a moment longer before darting back to the tunnel.

His hands were shaking. He needed to get his mask off right now. He needed a shower, he needed a drink, he needed to lie down and stare at the wall until he felt human again—

Dion stumbled, leaning against the tunnel wall. He'd just killed someone.

But he had survived. It was him or the Ox, and he had won.

Dion stared at his hands. He had survived. Grim satisfaction knotted in his throat, and he struggled to breathe around it.

Dion had survived.

He was more willing to pay the cost than he wanted.

[ffxivpathoflight]

Ryuzan Kyouko, the Oathkeeper (PLD)

“I am faithful to my principles. Lying to myself wouldn’t do. It is this conviction that makes me rise again and again, until I grow past my shortcomings.”

Third scion of the Kyouko clan, one of the most renowned samurai families in Hingashi, Ryuzan would soon prove the exception to the rule. Too short and too clumsy, ever since he was a child and began to be taught the way of the samurai, he could not even wield the blade properly. His mother, Narame of the Yamatai, a clan of geomancers, tried to teach him magic, but it turned out he neither had the gift. Despite the shame he felt he was to his family’s honor, Ryuzan tried to compensate by learning and taking to heart the creed and morals of the samurai, at least. But he got a glimpse of what his path would lead when he was fifteen summers old, and bandits raided the village under the Kyouko clan’s protection. His siblings joined the battle, katana in hand, and Ryuzan had no choice but to do the same. It went as good as one might expect, with the bandit’s blade snapping Ryuzan’s out of his hand and he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground; as his foe raised his katana to end him, Ryuzan grabbed a round wooden plate and out of instinct he shielded himself with it. His resilience caught the bandit off-guard, and it gave his older sister Setsuna enough time to get to them and put the bandit to the blade.

This incident made Ryuzan think that perhaps his talents lay elsewhere, but his was a family of samurai, and it was not until three years later when the Kyouko clan attended a feast in the city of Kugane, the only place open to ijin —foreigners— in all of Hingashi. Distinguished people of all corners of the world joined the night, and Ryuzan met a bodyguard of an Eorzean merchant, a man who wielded sword and shield in battle. He learned that this discipline of arms was taught in the West, and recalling the bandit attack, Ryuzan was convinced that offensive was not his calling, but protection. However, he would have to argue with his father, Shikage Kyouko, for four years before he allowed Ryuzan to leave on one condition: upon his return, he would have to prove his mastery of this Western technique equal to the samurai skills of the Kyouko clan, and if he could not, he would have to cast off his family name to not bring them dishonor. Eager to prove himself worthy, Ryuzan boarded a ship that would bring him to Eorzea, and he traveled to Ul’dah to join the Gladiators’ Guild and learn the ways of the sword and shield.

Soon it became clear that the discipline was meant for him. Ryuzan was certainly not the fastest or nimblest of fighters, and he was clumsy as ever, but he was a veritable bulwark against any kind of attack thrown at him. This and his steadfast convictions about honor and protection caught the attention of the Sultansworn, who were seeking to train free paladins, knights sworn to fight and defend the weak. Ryuzan’s ideals aligned with those of the paladin’s creed, and so he swiftly became an extraordinary pupil. Two years after he arrived to Eorzea, he was deemed a full-fledged paladin, and Ryuzan began traveling the land as an adventurer. During his travels, a Light Crystal of Ice appeared to him after a particularly fierce battle in which his sword and shield both broke, and with its power from that moment onwards he learned to summon a sword and shield made of ice at his beck and call.

After a year of traveling Eorzea and helping those in need, Ryuzan heard that the Eorzean Alliance was getting ready for war against the Garlean Empire for Ala Mhigo’s liberation, and that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were seeking adventurers gifted with the Echo to form a special unit directly under the Warrior of Light’s command. Ryuzan, as many had at this point, had heard of the Warrior of Light, and ever since he was a child and dreamed of a starshower he had the Echo, the main reason his mother thought he was apt for magic back then. He answered the call and traveled to Rhalgr’s Reach to meet his new comrades-in-arms. It turned out the Warrior of Light, X’wyhn Lehn —who at the time still went by the name Faith Sol’une— was not exactly the heroic spirit he had imagined, instead being rather surly and cynical. Ryuzan questioned her aptitude for the role more than once, though he came to accept her authority and decisions as he traveled with her. Besides, despite a misunderstanding and a certain incident that made his relationship with one of his companions, the Miqo’te samurai Samra Shir’valah, rather rocky at the start, they came to respect one another, and eventually this developed in an odd sort of romance after Ala Mhigo’s liberation. Now part of the Guardians of Light, Ryuzan’s adventures with them had only just begun.

The Call to the First reflection of the Source, about to be flooded by Light, made the Guardians of Light, the Guardians of Darkness —come from the future to prevent the horrible events that led to the world’s devastation— and the newly-arrived Order of Wayward Echoes come together and join the efforts to save the shard. Ryuzan and all the others traveled to the First aboard the Order’s interdimensional airship, The Ouroboros, since the Warrior of Light had been the only one properly summoned through the Rift. Ryuzan’s belief in the holy Light began to waver when he beheld the horrors the Light had wrought upon this world, especially the sin eaters. Meeting the Ascian Paragon, Emet-Selch, and learning of Hydaelyn and Zodiark’s true nature would further shake the foundations of his conviction, but it was not until he heard the tragic tale of the Ancients and how their memory had been erased from history by the winners that Ryuzan realized that right and wrong are but constructs of each side. When the Warrior of Light failed to contain the Lightwardens’ Light and Emet-Selch turned on them, Ryuzan joined the battle. The reenaction of the Final Days of Amaurot, bearing witness to the Ancients’ demise, and understanding the crushing guilt of not being able to help those Emet-Selch swore to protect, compelled Ryuzan to make an oath to the grieving Paragon’s last request: the Ancients’ memory and story would be known and their legacy honored as it should have ever been.

[sidekickhq]

WELCOME TO HELL, tova vidarschild, victoria creed, adrian trevor, makena thurman, ziva mizrahi, nora lance-queen, monica barton & rosalind reyes-mccoy ! emma mackey, stella maeve, tom hardy, zoe kravitz, inbar lavi, victoria pedretti, phoebe tonkin & zoe love smith are now taken. don’t forget to read over our pages and follow everybody here. you have twenty four hours to send in your account or your roles will be reopened.

⧼    emma mackey, demigirl, she & they   /   i wish i was a punk rocker by sandi thom   +   the musty smell attached to endless stacks of secondhand records. dozens of mismatched stick and poke tattoos along both arms, each of them telling the story of the changes that occurred with each passing year. bulky headphones that are never not over their ears or resting carefully around their neck in place of jewelry.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about TOVA SOLEIL VIDARSCHILD. the TWENTY TWO year old child of VIDAR BJORK-THORSON is an UNDERGRAD student at paragon academy, and has sometimes been referred to as THE POP CULTURE FIEND. they’ve always seemed very ECCENTRIC & TENACIOUS, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty ACERBIC & GARRULOUS, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the powers of NATURE MANIPULATION & PARTIAL ASGARDIAN PHYSIOLOGY ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ]

⧼    stella maeve, cis female, she & her   /   abrahams daughter by arcade fire   +   a full moon hanging high in the star speckled sky, skimming the surface of undisturbed snow and drenching in its light the tops of endless evergreen trees and the decrepit cabin you grew up in. your body is more scar tissue than it is unblemished skin, and all you know is how to bare your teeth as if they’re fangs and treat your fingernails like claws. there’s blood on your trembling hands and it doesn’t belong to you, but tha won’t stop it from staining everything that you touch.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about VICTORIA CREED. the TWENTY EIGHT year old child of VICTOR CREED ( LOGAN HOWLETT & SILVERFOX ) is a wayward soul in town, and has sometimes been referred to as THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB. they’ve always seemed very INTUITIVE & METICULOUS, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty CALCULATING & RUTHLESS, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the powers of CLAW RETRACTION, REGENERATIVE HEALING & ENHANCED SENSES ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ]

⧼    tom hardy, cis male, he & him   /   charlie boy by the lumineers   +   a tarnished wedding band near embedded in the depths of a faded leather wallet. well worn and oversized sweaters with too many threads pulled to count or warm denim jackets over wrinkled flannel shirts ; no inbetween, and no alternatives. a rueful smile and a distinct limp.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about ADRIAN STEPHANOS TREVOR. the THIRTY SEVEN year old child of DIANA PRINCE & STEVE TREVOR is an INDEPENDENT JOURNALIST and STARBUCKS BARISTA in town, and has sometimes been referred to as THE MAUDLIN. they’ve always seemed very RIGHT MINDED & MUNIFICENT, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty IDIOSYNCRATIC & SELF DESTRUCTIVE, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of ENHANCED CONDITION ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ] 

⧼    zoe kravitz, non binary, she & they & he   /   that bitch by bea miller   +   bruised and broken knuckles from another righteous fight and a sore throat and hoarse voice from speaking your mind a little too loudly. kissing your daughter goodnight and softly closing her bedroom door, waiting until she’s deeply asleep before you break out the margarita mix. large shirts that didn’t always belong to you over simple bralettes, ever tangled sheets atop the mattress on your bedroom floor and a default response to criticism being an impassioned middle finger.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about MAKENA RENÉE THURMAN. the TWENTY EIGHT year old child of NEENA THURMAN & NATHAN SUMMERS ( LOKI ) is a BOOKING AGENT & ACCOUNTANT FOR KARMA CLUB in town, and has sometimes been referred to as THE PHILOPHOBE. they’ve always seemed very INTUITIVE & STAUNCH, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty IRASCIBLE & INSCRUTABLE, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the powers of TYCHOKINESIS & LATENT TELEKINESIS ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ]

⧼    inbar lavi, genderfluid, she & they & he   /   shoot and run by josef salvat  +   a selfless heart hidden behind a bulletproof vest ; a highly literal warmth underneath impenetrable armor. impossibly dark brown eyes set into - and unmanageable curls framing - a disarmingly innocent face. a tiny and freshly polished star of david charm on a dainty chain, dirtied combat boots and an improbable amount of weapons hidden on their person at any one time.   ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about ZIVA ORLI MIZRAHI. the THIRTY FOUR year old ( legal ) child of NICK FURY & NATASHA ROMANOFF / WARD OF SHIELD is a PROFESSOR OF STRATEGY at paragon academy and SHIELD LIAISON OFFICER & JUNIOR TRAINER, and has sometimes been referred to as THE HIRED GUN. they’ve always seemed very INGENIOUS & ADAPTABLE, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty OBSTINATE & TACITURN, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of ELECTROKINESIS and abilities of INNATE COMBAT & WEAPONS PROFICIENCY ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ]

⧼    victoria pedretti, cis female, she & her   /   rainbow by kesha   +   a studio apartment with a wall of windows and a minimalist floor plan - everything about the place they live is open and airy, and clean. they are all cashmere jumpers in warm colors with sleeves long enough to pull over clenched fists and mousy brown hair that once fell to their waist and now, when free of a loose top knot, hangs at broad shoulders. rest easy with the knowledge that while your voice may have shaken, you still spoke up.    ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about NORA ISABELLE LANCE-QUEEN. the TWENTY TWO year old child of DINAH LAUREL LANCE & OLIVER QUEEN is an UNDERGRAD at paragon academy, and has sometimes been referred to as THE FINAL GIRL. they’ve always seemed very AUDACIOUS & SUAVE, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty SELF RELIANT & PRIDEFUL, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of VIBRATION MANIPULATION ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ]

⧼    phoebe tonkin, cis female, she & her   /   mr rattlebone by matt maeson  +   oversized t-shirt containing the entirety of the ‘cool girl’ monologue over a lacy black thong, sheer black tights that have been pulled at all the seams with a shadow of ouroboros inked high on pallid thigh, chipped nail polish and fingers covered in dirty bandaids and stubbed out cigarettes in an overflowing ashtray & the best fake orgasm a man could hope for.   ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about MONICA LAUREL BARTON. the TWENTY FIVE year old child of BARNEY BARTON is a UNDERGRAD at paragon academy and WAITRESS in town, and has sometimes been referred to as THE AMY ELLIOT DUNNE. they’ve always seemed very SELF RELIANT & RELENTLESS, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty SARDONIC & REACTIVE, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the ability of VIOLENT SELF DESTRUCTION & WICKED SEXUAL PROWESS ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ]

⧼    zoe love smith, genderqueer, she & they   /   borderline by vanic  +   the feeling of your heart blooming in your chest when a cat you’ve been told doesn’t like most people chooses your lap to settle down into, purring like a jackhammer all the while. the very first time that you experienced self awareness ; the way your pulse quickened and you began to feel lightheaded, all because you realized that everyone in the room was having a different moment to you. the rush of endorphins and adrenaline when, contrary to the opinion that you have of yourself, someone remembers your name and uses it in conversation.   ⧽   ━━   let me tell you a thing or two about ROSALIND TESLA “TESSIE” REYES-MCCOY. the TWENTY year old child of CECELIA REYES ( LAB BABY ) & HANK MCCOY ( STEP FATHER ) is a UNDERGRAD at paragon academy and MODEL in town, and has sometimes been referred to as the ROSE COLORED GLASS. they’ve always seemed very BENEFICENT & VIVACIOUS, though i’ve heard that they can be pretty OBSEQUIOUS & RAUCOUS, too. it’s common knowledge that they have the power of FORCE FIELD GENERATION ; guess we shouldn’t get on their bad side, huh?   [ rachel, 21, gmt, she / they ] 

[ghostcultmagazine]

Check out our preview of new Rock and Metal album releases coming out this week! The 69 Eyes – Death Of Darkness (Atomic Fire Records) Angel – Once Upon A Time (Cleopatra Records) Anthem – Crimson & Jet Black (Reaper Records) As Everything Unfolds – Ultraviolet (Long Branch Records) Axel Rudi Pell – The Ballads VI (Steamhammer/SPV) Birdflesh – Sickness In The North (Everlasting Spew) Brand Of Sacrifice – Between Death And Dreams EP (Self-Released)) Caedeous – Malum Supplicium (Black Sunset/MDD Records) Daisy Chain – The World Is Not Spinning (Vitriol Records) Dawn Of Ouroboros – Velvet Incandescence (Prosthetic Records) Dimwind – The Futility Of Breathing (Self-Released)) Dommengang – Wished Eye (Thrill Jockey) Dorthia Cottrell – Death Folk Country (Relapse Records) Dozer – Drifting In The Endless Void (Blues Funeral Records) Enter Shikari – A Kiss For The Whole World (SO Records/Ambush Reality Records) Grave Pleasures – Plagueboys (Century Media Records) Gyrdleah – Spellbinder (Self-Released)) Hirax – Hate, Fear And Power/ and Raging Violence Re-Releases (Armageddon Label) Jethro Tull – RökFlöte (InsideOut Music) read as ……. Rock Flute… John Cxnnor and The Devil’s Trade – Live At Roadburn (Pelagic Records) read as JOHN CONNOR Liv Kristine – River Of Diamonds (Metalville Records) Margarita Witch Cult – Margarita Witch Cult (Heavy Psych Sounds) Pestifer – Defeat Of The Nemesis EP (Debemur Morti) Predatory Void – Seven Keys To The Discomfort Of Being (Century Media Records) Revolution Saints – Eagle Flight (Frontiers SRL) Smackbound – Hostage (Frontiers SRL) Smoulder – Violent Creed Of Vengeance (Cruz Del Sur) Tanith – Voyage (Metal Blade Records) Texas Hippie Coalition – The Name Lives On (MNRK HEAVY) - MONARCH - HEAVY These Beasts – Cares, Wills, Wants (Magnetic Eye Records) Through Fire – Devil’s Got You Dreamin’ (Sumerian Records) Ulvedharr – XXXIII (Scarlet Records) Unchosen Ones – Sorrow Turns To Dust (Self--Released)) Wasteland Clan – The End Of Time (Massacre Records) AND Windhand – Windhand Re-Release (Relapse Records) 💻 Omar Cordy (https://www.instagram.com/ojcpics​​) 🎤 Nik Cameron (https://ift.tt/6vHCJel) ��� Fahad Syed (https://www.instagram.com/fahanzi​​). ▵ PODCAST ▵ (Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcast, Anchor) 👉 Ghost Cult Magazine Podcast https://ift.tt/53mN8eH ▵ GEAR WE USE ▵ (These are affiliate links) Set up A: Sony A7 III - https://amzn.to/3tQm422 Tamron 17-28 - https://amzn.to/3ePrlTd Tamron 28-75 - https://amzn.to/3fqCjgY Desview Mavo-P5 Monitor- https://amzn.to/33LlTub Manfrotto Befree Travel Tripod - https://amzn.to/3hxbL0e Lighting: YONGNUO YN600L - https://amzn.to/2QkNrn5 YONGNUO YN300 Air - https://amzn.to/2QjN5gu Dfuse Softbox - https://amzn.to/3uQq4AN Aputure MC - https://amzn.to/3oirFgx NanLite PavoTube II 6C - http://bit.ly/NanLitePavoTubeII Lightstands - https://amzn.to/3uSBl3x 5 in 1 Reflector - https://amzn.to/33KHdjo And our iconic Rope Light https://amzn.to/3ycdmyz For the full list of Ghost Cult gear: http://bit.ly/OJCPicsKit ▵ LET'S BE FRIENDS ▵ https://ift.tt/Zg5vwTQ https://twitter.com/GhostCultMag https://ift.tt/CIr2XoR https://ift.tt/NcVaKCM #newmusicfriday #rock #metal #punk #hardcore #indie #deathmetal #stonerdoom #thrashmetal #blackmetal #symphonicmetal #folkmetal #metalcore #nmf #newmusic #ghostcultmag

[deathleadsarc]

chimerameat·:

Traditional, huh? Seemed like an underestimation of whatever’s going on in her background, nonetheless, this is a game that Michel has come up with an equation for. Talking, in his experience, has become somewhat of a meticulous experiment, scientific in all places where emotion doesn’t touch. Michel reels back and sets the fishing line loose into her lap, fitting of ravens & skirts, not too much for her hands to hold, &.  not too small for her not to look at. Manners, & manners, & cycles, Ouroboros watches from the sidelines, licking its tongue over the lines of its mouth.

Watching, watching.

❛ Qistina? I’ve never heard that name before, I have to say, it fits you like a glove. Are you the sort of person to like fairy tales? Cinderella, all that, fitting into something made for her. Seems fitting, darling. ❜ Leota, huh? Not a last name he’s heard before, even in a city like New York            /            where people of all creeds exist, Leota is a new one. Not that he’s there, anymore, of course             /            still. ❛ You don’t have to do anything for me that you’re uncomfortable with, Miss. If Leota and D’Aubigny are what you prefer, then my preferences can come when you’re comfortable & properly bewitched by my charm, mm? A fair trade off, I think. ❜

It’s not like being called D’Aubigny is a bad thing, or something he dislikes. It’s unusual, but not unkind ; besides, his main dislike comes with nicknames, they make him feel condescended to. ‘ Shelly, ’ even, has caused him distress in the past. ( goddamn !  he likes michel, and he’d like to be called it ! ) but D’Aubigny is no skin off his back, & not from her. It’s not a disrespect from Qistina. Lady Leota. ( his bad, sorry! )

Michel adjusts himself on the bench aside her. His right leg, closest to her, crossed over his left, his back arching & twisting to be able to look at her in her eyes,              /            his right arm, again, closest, laid across the back of the bench. He does bring her hand to his lips, less of a kiss and more of a brush, the curves & ridges to his Cupid’s bow, the curve of the flesh without breaking eye contact. When he looks at her, he does so smiling, without so much of a twinge or schmutz out of place. He bares a glance to that awful bird of hers            /            ( god, he hates birds, ) & gives it a respectful slow blink to its eyes, hoping, despite his irritation of birdkind that he can earn its respect for her. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t bother him, if they do get further, become friends            /            & whatever else may become of them.

❛ Nicknames, I hoard them, truly, Miss Leota. I’m not one for them myself, but I’ve heard so many over the years, I have no issue using them for someone deserving. Forgive my overstepping, if it does bother you, but I’m not afraid to give compliments. ❜

He talks against the back of her palm, his hot exhales the second thing brushing her skin. His eyes are perpetually half - lid, years of attempting to seem casual truly getting his face stuck that way. He looks, sleepy, almost, unbothered            /            whatever she thinks she’s made of ( not so much glass, perhaps, molten metal, since cooled? something harsh, unruly, unkind. something bleached, singing to the touch. ) is nontoxic to him. Simply another bark of a tree, ringed & knowledged, nothing to shy away from. Splinters never killed a man, he’s heard.

❛ ‘ Poe ’ ? I hope you like poems, that’s too good of a reference to miss out on, Qistina Leota. ❜ Said so gently.

―    🜛    ―  Their  conversation  continued  with  nary  a  hitch    (    smoothly  soft  as  the  feathers  to  which  she  was  accustomed,  becoming  properly  charmed  already  despite  the  many  misgivings    )    even  delighting  in  the  way  he'd  spoken  of  fairytales  and  cinderella.  .  .  indeed  she  had  heard  of  such  stories,  as  was  the  way  of  the  needy  knowledgable,  even  if  buried  in  falsities  twas  a  good  tale  to  be  had.  Curiosity  of  the  gentleman  mounting,  of  Michel  D'Aubigny,  she  could  feel  her  smile  remaining  'pon  her  face  as  a  small  impression  to  which  he'd  been  giving  her.  As  Poe  bounced  from  her  fingertips  to  her  lap  to  the  rest  of  his  unkindness,  she  turned  back  to  him  with  a  short  bit  of  laughter  come  spilling  from  her  lips.

        "  Cinderella?  Is  that  right?  "      and  in  this  he  gives  her  a  path.  To  speak  his  name  or  call  him  by  more  intimate  terms.  A  path  rarely  traveled  for  this  Alchemist,  for  in  such  familiar  words  doth  the  fragile  heart  become  shattered.  Eventually  it  would  not  matter  if  he  called  her  by  name,  for  he  would  forget  it  the  moment  she  left  this  place.  Forget  how  it  felt  to  speak  to  her,  or  sit  beside  her.  Know  her  and  know  of  her.  How  strangely  restless  is  she,  to  continue  this  conversation  with  a  maidens  blush  and  hopeful  spark  in  her  heart.  

And  how  can  such  a  woman  help  it?  Sitting  so  close,  having  her  hand  taken  and  kissed  as  if  she  were  not  a  filthy  monster  from  the  beyond.  

Lips  lower  from  their  smiling  painting,  but  not  in  displeasure.  A  coy  gaze  fully  intent  upon  study  of  his  every  move,  and  though  she  was  enjoying  herself  in  the  attention  like  this,  there  is  no  staunching what  comes  bleeding  from  her  heart.  Intimacy  in  which  she's  always  known,  and  could  never  shy  from.  An  intimacy  that  he  would  not  understand.  For  now,  yes  for  now,  she  will  not  speak  his  name  aloud.  So  great  is  the  desire  to  hear  her  name  spoken  too,  but  she  must  close  her  heart  to  this.  How  lonely.

        "  Perhaps  if  you  are  my  Prince  Charming,  I'll  have  to  allow  you  the  honor  of  speaking  my  birth  name.  .  .  But  for  now,  Mr.  D'Aubigny  will  do.  Feel  free  to  call  me  otherwise  in  your  dreams.  "          lilt  of  an  angel,  this  one.  tapping  her  foot  as  Poe  sat  upon  it,  regarding  him  with  loving  eyes  for  a  moment,  her  attention  drawn  once  more  to  the  handsome  man  beside  her.      Smiling.  Tempting.  Staring  directly  into  his  face,  as  if  a  poem  himself to  observe.

         "  I  do  hope  they  will  be  as  dark  as  the  night  to  which  the  raven  sings?  Reciting  to  me  poetry  as  I  haunt  your  slumbering  mind    ―    quite  the  way  to  reach  my  good  side.  .  .  Do  tell,  do  tell.  Is  that  a  poem  you  believe  worth  learning?  "

[a-m-pyra]

In fantasy-horror alternative universe Jacob would be a medium. You can't change my mind.

Like, just look at him in Dickens' missions. Perfect medium.

No... It's totally not the tiny little sneak peek to The House of Ouroboros 😅

[itsraininginspace]

The Celtic Cross (Irish Cross): Meaning and Symbolism

The Celtic Cross is essentially a combination of two of the most basic shapes that appear in the symbology of the ages – the circle and the cross. Often also known as the Irish Cross, it has long been associated with the Christian traditions of the Celts, particularly those with roots in Ireland.

However, as is the case with virtually all the ancient symbols we have uncovered, the history of the Celtic Cross is not as cut and dried as the name might initially suggest.

  The Celtic Cross – A Ringed Cross or Something Else?

Ringed crosses, of which the Celtic Cross is simply one manifestation, first appeared in association with Christianity in Ireland and Scotland in the 9th century. There is considerable debate over whether they are an original Christian symbol or something that was adopted or modified from earlier native religions.

By exact definition, an Irish Cross or Celtic Cross has to have four semi-circles cut away at the four points where the horizontal and vertical beams meet. It is also a common trait that the lower vertical section is wider at the base than at the point where it meets the center, while the other sections are rectangular.

Neither of these are strictly followed in the modern tradition. It is because of this divergence from what were the defining features of the Celtic Cross that there is great debate over its origins.

The discussion often involves its comparison with similar symbols from around the world that are thought – either correctly or incorrectly – to have inspired the Irish Cross.

The Celtic Cross and the Sun Cross

The sun cross is a symbol remarkably similar to the Celtic Cross in that it is a combination of the two basic shapes of circle and cross. The sun cross, though, has a history that stretches much further back into human history. Even if it is not directly related to the Irish Cross, it might be a predecessor of the shape.

The sun cross is a circle divided into four equal quadrants by a horizontal and a vertical line. Neither of the two lines extend beyond the circumference of the circle. This symbol, the earliest remnants of which have been dated to the Neolithic Age, was used by early Europeans who revered the sun for its essential role in giving and sustaining all life on earth.

Experts suggest that the sun cross was a representation of the disc of the sun combined with spokes of a wheel deemed to be a depiction of that of the chariot of the Sun God who moved the giant orb across the heavens. The four quadrants may be taken to represent the four seasons of the year or the four stages of the day – morning, midday, evening and midnight.

The early pagan peoples of Europe and modern-day India, loosely known as the Aryans, held the sun in very high regard and symbols associated with the heavenly body are widespread in monuments and relics from their history. It is an appealing argument that early Christians were eager to associate the similarity between the symbol of Christ with that of the sun for the positive connotations that it held.

The Celtic Cross and the Egyptian Ankh

The ankh was one of the most potent symbols of the combination of heavenly and earthly power in ancient Egyptian society. It was almost an essential accessory of the gods of the Egyptian pantheon and was always either carved or put into the pyramid tombs of the pharaohs, all of whom were considered god-kings

Coming many millennia after the sun cross, the Egyptian ankh, too, is nevertheless also often considered a precursor to the Celtic Cross. In fact, the Coptic Christians adopted the ankh wholesale in its original form and it is the official symbol of their church.

However, rather than being a reference to the sun, it is thought that the ankh may be the combination of a phallic symbol and a symbol of the female divine, juxtaposed to represent a union of the two which is the basis of human life.

The Celtic Cross and …Carpentry?

Another interesting theory is that the ring of the Celtic Cross was not originally a ring at all. Some researchers speculate that the very first crosses which were constructed of wood needed supporting struts to strengthen the overall structure.

This came in the shape of four smaller wooden pieces placed diagonally between the four spokes formed by the main horizontal and vertical beams. It is thought that this shape eventually evolved into the circular halo which we see in the Celtic Cross.

It may very well also be that the circular shape was much preferred to the straight lines of the original supporting bars because Christian iconography so often depicted Christ and other revered individuals with a similar halo.

  Adorning the Irish Cross

A discovery of Irish Christian history is particularly fascinating because of the amazing art that often accompanies it.

Known as Insular Art – referring to both Ireland as an ‘island’ and the art form’s character which is distinct from that of the rest of Europe – its intricate detail and characteristic beauty have perhaps made it more popular today than it was at any time in the past.

Irish Crosses are rarely unadorned, particularly when they appear on headstones and other objects within the compounds of Irish Christian institutions. Large stone high crosses are possibly both the best and the most well-known examples of this.

While the oldest high crosses like Muiredach’s High Cross in Monasterboice often feature depictions of people, illustrations of more distinctly-Celtic designs like Celtic knots and the Celtic Tree of Life have found widespread favor today. The latter is popularly designed as a knot as well.

  The Celtic Cross Today

It is a remarkable fact how widespread the distinct shape of the Irish Cross is in the modern era. The beauty of its form, accompanied by the exquisite and intricate designs that are its constant companions, give it an appeal that transcend the bounds of religion, race, creed and geography.

The post The Celtic Cross (Irish Cross): Meaning and Symbolism appeared first on Ragnar Lothbrok, Lagertha, Rollo, Vikings, Ouroboros, Symbols and Meanings.

Source: http://mythologian.net/celtic-cross-irish-cross-meaning-symbolism/

[foxjevilwild]

The attitude I hate seeing the most on R/e/ddi/t - and it is pervasive - is that insecure cynicism that people present when they argue that things are immutable, predestined to the negative, and hopeless. The why bother sort of attitude. The cowardly belief that the world is an affixed and impersonal thing, where one must simply endure the evils around them while looking out only for themselves.

“If the world continues on a downward spiral, and that spiral is the inevitability of the system, and the system is immutable (or just the way things are and always will be), then I will never have to challenge my own assumptions, or challenge myself to act - even though I possess the means to act - so forever will I reject the radical solutions, and conform to the current paradigm and my belief in its permanence for the sake of my own comfort.”

That’s basically their motto, their litany, their creed - and it seeps through even the most well meaning niches and communities there. Rather than accept that things need to be changed, and that change brings difficulties, they would all rather nest in deep with their privileges and will never sacrifice their own amenities and toys and their bullshit justifications. They’d rather argue over pedantry, devolve a discussion into memes or puns, than face uncomfortable truths. The worst of them devote themselves to trolling, for if the world is immutably awful then they may as well revel in the shit of it all, I suppose. The best of them will agree there is a problem, but will suggest there is nothing to do to change things - or will suggest using the avenues of the failing system to provide themselves with the sense that something was done without having to actually risk a damned thing.

Spending too long there I sometimes wonder if that’s the way people are - but then I look at their demographics and I realize that, ultimately, no - people on the whole are not like the predominately upper middle-aged, solidly middle-class white men on R/edd/it. Their attitude, their cynicism, their fear and insecurity - its just another cause that led us into this situation in the world. It’s a self-feeding ouroboros of masturbatory conciliation, coping humor, and inaction. In its way it is a microcosm of privilege itself - for if these people were no longer living comfortable, safe lives would they be so defeatist and resigned to letting things linger along as they currently are while joking irrelevantly about the Undertaker in a thread about Transgender rights being revoked? 

Of course not, but rather than exercise their empathy for the sake of those who are obviously suffering under the paradigm they burrow deep into their own minutiae, argue over the execution of their own memes, argue over petty things. They’d rather hide in the logic of those meaningless arguments and ego boosts like ‘karma’ than face the truth of the world and of the suffering their sort of indifference is helping to propagate. A hard truth vs a deep meme-filled cave of apathetic, comforting lies.

I don’t really post there, but I read it when bored. I don’t think I want to post there. I don’t want that sort of cynicism infecting me.