ƈὄмἔ ᾄṩ ẏὄὗ ᾄʀἔ

A multimuse blog of Fate OCs. Semi-selective and please read rules before interacting. Written by Aqua. Main blog is monavia

[kingoforkney-blog]

✕     Like this for a starter. 

Relationships developed from King Lot’s time on my multi-muse will be retained.

[witchofthekorcari]

Your blood is nothing but ferrous liquid. When you bleed, you reek of rust. It is iron that fills your heart and sits in your veins. And what is iron, really, unless it’s forged? You are iron. And you are strong

[uselesshunger]

wraps itself around you & whispers in your ear    tells you that I miss you & I wish that you were here

[rhapsodyinblue45]

I write sometimes to melancholy those pieces that break in brittle scripture from sediments of undigested teachings their folded opinion held on my tongue hemmed in doubts pinned about my waist toes reverently pointed toward duty

until wisps of scented words waft from these manacles heaving in my chest how can i betray the soft moments etched within the soul’s crypt stretching outward from her bowels in arms of resurrected light

release the flitting of doves and whisper no more to tears that deceive the velvet scent of my own sacrament I will speak freely the psalms of romance unfiltered and affirmed as the incense of my verse

heart’s cathedral // ©️Rhapsodyinblue45🌺

——————————- *Inspired by Sara Bareilles’ “Gravity” and a personal fascination with Anglican churches

Painting: Zhiwei Tu (artist)

Abstract prompt- dreaming of calm

[choualaclem]

A little bollywood dancer who took too much LSD

[gogonis]

She saw the fine robes of every color spread over the floor, and when twenty or thirty of them lay strewn about, and Duhsasana stopped to catch his breath, Draupadi struck him. She didn’t slap him, Majesty; she hit him with her fist like a boxer and he dropped down like a swatter fly, which suddenly ceases buzzing. He was out cold and blood ran from his mouth.

The Mahabharata (via drvonskillet)

[thewinedarksea]

mythology moodboards | draupadi

the fire-born daughter of the king of panchala, and the most beautiful woman in the world in hindu mythology

requested by @chaanv

[xxanax-whore]

[dualipaqueen]

diva is a female version of a hustla

[4sss]

Your arms are my heaven and my arms your home.

J.c.A

[klierxes-archived]

Relief seemed to wash over her as she watched his features morph, hatred leaving his face. She would have choked up had she not been blessed with the ability to remain composed in most stressful situations. Finally, after all these years, she could tell him. Tell him anything and everything she wished to tell him. Her voice could finally be heard by him. Words no longer evaded her in his presence, most of the time at least. At least she could form sentences before him. 

Her features swiftly change, like his. Hers, however, seem to soften. Her shoulder and brows relax, her eyes soften. In many eyes, she was a stern, perhaps cold, woman. While yes she was disciplined and sometimes strict, she had her moments of warmth. She could be tender and kind when she willed it, it was merely a rare occurrence. 

“You needn’t worry about me desiring to fight you or ‘bring you down’. I only wish to say what I never did...” She replied before going on to tell him everything he needed to know. She apologised to him, never making an excuse for herself, citing that she, like many, made faults in her life. 

She told him of her hidden feelings for him. How after she saw him in Duryodhana’s portrait, she could never get him out of her mind. How even when she was married to the Pandavas, she craved Karna’s affection. How being in his presence makes her heart ache in regret and sorrow at times. 

“...Now,” She gazes up to look at the altered Servant, “Is there anything you wish to say to me?”

[klierxes-archived]

God if someone ever picked up Bhima I would literally cry

[klierxes-archived]

Had she been a younger, more naive version of herself, the woman would have been trembling, quaking like the Earth when an astra struck. She was a helpless, perhaps weak, individual in the past. She, however, was not the same and would not let her composure fall, even in the presence of the man she desired for many years of her life.

She could feel her breath hitch when he struck her hand away, the first physical contact they had had in aeons. She wished it would have been anything other than that, but fate seemed to be cruel and uncaring of her wishes at times. Far too many times, really.

“My business with you has nothing to do with the men I once called my husbands.” She stated, her voice poised and confident, yet soft in a way;  as if she were trying to coax him into believing her. “I wish to speak with you after, regretfully, never doing such a thing in our past lives. And I advise you do not take me for a fool who desires death, Karna.”

[klierxes-archived]

@nafarat

The Lakshmi incarnate gazed at who was once the great hero of charity. The altered hero shared some similarity to his normal self, but those black sclera...those yellow eyes. They glowed with hatred and vengeance. His hair was no longer its pearly white, no, it was now bloody red, as if he, like her so long ago, had washed his hair in the blood of his enemies. 

Approaching him seemed foolish and gut-wrenching; it was as if she were approaching a wild, feral animal, yet her body screamed at her to continue standing before him, to not cower because of the mere unknown. And so, she stayed put. The ends of her fiery red sari fluttered and hovered above the ground. Her golden eyes gazed up at the hero sadly. 

How she regretted her past with him...how she wished she could have apologised to him. Apologised for giving him that humiliating rejection before all in Bharat. Apologised for holding her tongue all those times they passed. For all those times she made it seem as though she hated him. 

She had a million things to say to him, yet no words left her lips. She merely reached a hand out to cut his cheek, not fearing the idea of being burnt by him. If she were to be injured by any, she would be honoured to be hurt by him. 

“....”

[worldofcelts]

Women have played a prominent part in Celtic life, from the mother goddess and the pantheon of female deities down to a whole range of powerful historical female leaders, priestesses and Christian saints. Their role did not stop with the coming of Christianity but continued into medieval times among the insular Celts. […] a unique piece of ‘feminist’ literature emerges from 12th century Ireland in the form of the Banshenchas, a book on the genealogies of leading women. In fact, this could be claimed as the first European book about women in their own right.

from “The Celts” by Peter Berresford Ellis (via worldofcelts)

[klierxes-archived]

Karna Alter: exists

Draupadi: 

[astheriasicons]

Alter Karna aesthetic.

[klierxes-archived]

@motherfuckingsonofsurya