#plausibly divine fragments

[ubu507]

plausibly divine fragments

[purplealmonds]

Everything about Shingi's character design choices is laced with melancholy.

Let's start with a simple observation:

1. The character for "shin"(神) - divine – is phonetically similar to the "Shi"(死) – death.

As a matter of fact, the word for "dead" in Japanese is pronounced "shin" (死ん). There's the missing "n"! On can argue that Shingi, this divine ritual, can also be considered a death-related ritual since it involves the slaying of a mononoke. There's always a sadness involved in its killing, as a mononoke is birthed from intense suffering. I'm pretty sure that this phonetic similarity is not a coincidence, given how much care is put into naming the other characters in Mononoke Karakasa (see my analysis on Utayama and Mizorogi)

Now let's dive into more observations below the cut!

2. Movie-Kusu (Nusu) and Shingi look like completely different people.

Let's compare/contrast them with Anime-Kusu (Kusu) and Hyper for a clearer read.

👭 Exhibit A: Physical Form

Kusu & Hyper: Hyper is slightly more muscular and taller than Kusu, but has more or less the same facial structure. They both have manicured nails. Although they have differing hair types (Kusu's is wavy while Hyper's is sleek), they're roughly the same lightness (dirty blond and silver).

Nusu & Shingi: Nusu has a pointed chin, and Shingi has a squared off chin. He also has a longer neck and keeps his nails unpainted and blunt. His red-blue iridescent black hair (the color which also represents masculinity in Japanese culture) contrasts strongly against Nusu's pale lavender with pink fringe. They share eye shapes, but nothing much else.

👗 Exhibit B: Fashion Choices

Kusu & Hyper: Hyper's outfit could be considered a battle-ready variant of Kusu's garb - removed inner robe, rolled up outer kimono sleeves.

Nusu & Shingi: Nusu's outfit is based on a woman's kimono. Shingi's outfit is based on the men's kingashi kimono. While Nusu wears is draped in many, many layers of fabric, Shingi is in a casual state of undress and runs around barefoot.

Superficially, we can interpret Nusu & Shingi's different appearances as a more blatant divide between yin and yang, the feminine and masculine. However, I think there may be a deeper story reason behind this, which is...

2. Shingi's Appearance is Trauma-Coded

🌈Exhibit A: Color Symbolism

White, or shiro, is considered a sacred color reserved for the gods. It is also the color of traditionally symbolizing mourning and death. Shingi's outfit heavily features white. And not to mention, his eyes are white too!

In my analysis about eye colors in relation to the Go-Gyo (五行), or the five elements which are part of the hexagram paradigm, I noted that it was interesting that while Shingi was aligned with the Kun(坤) exorcism sword aligned with the earth element (symbolized by yellow), his eye color is white, which is aligned with metal. Earth has an inter-promoting relationship to metal, in that the latter is generated by the former. And how is earth forged into metal? Through incredible pressure (life's adversities), perhaps forged even in the very mantle of the earth (fire).

Which brings me to another interesting observation: if Shingi is theoretically aligned with metal, why is it that his markings are red (fire), while Hyper's is gold (the color of a metal)? It's plausible that when earth-aligned Shingi metaphorically crumbled from this yet-to-be-unearthed trauma, fire-aligned Hyper "reforged" those disparate fragments into a new, possibly stronger elemental alignment of metal. And in return, Shingi "branded" Hyper with metallic gold, which is a color tangential to the yellow color-coding of earth. Whatever hardships Hyper and Shingi went through together prior to the first episodes of Mononoke, they both left their marks on each other quite literally.

👕Exhibit B1: State of Dress

Depression often leads to the neglect of self-care, which in turn makes keeping a tidy appearances a daunting, often unsurmountable chore. Shingi's kimono top is half-shucked. He doesn't even bother to wear pants, and the bandages on his forearm and legs are loosely tied tripping hazards. He also keeps his hair down. Hair styling is a huge indicator of one's status in feudal Japan. By not styling his hair, he's choosing to 1) defy social norms and 2) disregard and neglect the duties connected to his divine status.

👘 Exhibit B2: Kimono Folding

This was actually a really subtle detail, but once I saw it I could never unsee it. Check out how Shingi folds his kimono top. I know his abs are distracting, but bear with me here:

Did you see it too? Instead of crossing his kimono left over right like Nusu, Shingi crosses his kimono right over left. The only time you cross your kimono like Shingi if you are clothing a corpse. Combined with the phonetics of his name and white coloring of his robe, I have reason to believe that at some point in time, Shingi "died". And the only window of time a being like himself can possibly "die" is when he possesses his medicine seller's body to slay a mononoke. And if he "dies" while possessing his medicine seller, I imagine that the medicine seller would succumb to those injuries and also follow suit shortly afterwards.

4. Conclusion/Headcanon:

I have a theory that, upon bonding with the exorcism sword, the spirit of that sword imprints upon the wielder by forming their humanoid appearance after their medicine seller's - like Hyper and Kusu. Which leads me to believe that Shingi had another partner prior to Nusu. Shingi "died", presumably from being overwhelmed by a mononoke. His previous partner died shortly afterwards. When he by some miracle is "revived," he starts questioning his godhood and is wracked with survivor's guilt. This manifests as his lanky, almost emaciated body build and his mortal, less otherworldly appearance (compared to Hyper). When Nusu inherited that exorcism sword, Shingi clung to aspects of his former partner's likeness as his way of mourning. Somewhere along the way, Hyper intervenes to save Shingi from his downward spiral, resulting in the two of them being irreversibly marked and influenced by each other's elemental alignments.

But yeah – that's my angsty theory about Shingi's tragic backstory. What do you think? Do you think it has any credence to it?

[sorasan000]

Tonight's reading: ch.1221 - 1230. Hot damn, we got more historic, religious, and non-human lore.

A lot of the religious lore was simply building upon an already strong foundation, so the newer information that caught my eye this time was the information about the ancient sword hero, who I currently presume is the ancestor of the current southern clans and the one who founded the era before the Great Destruction that the First Orr Emperor experienced.

This sword hero was half human, half dragon. He had the miraculous ability to infuse half his soul into a "mysterious sword." I also happen to be rereading the Great Sarain Forest arc right now, and there was a part in ch.257 where Kishiar talked about going through an adjustment period with the Divine Sword Orr:

"By the way, it's been a long time since this guy's energy has spread out vividly enough to be seen. It seems too excited for the first time, so I need to calm it down." "You talk as if it's alive." He threw the answer without thinking. But when Kishiar's reply was slower than usual, a strange feeling came over him. Turning his head, Yuder met the red lips that were smiling with a slightly different color than before. A chill ran down his fingertips. "...You're joking, right?" "Strictly speaking, it doesn't talk or move. In that sense, it's not alive." "Then what is..."

There was a point when they were hypothesizing what the sword could've actually been. Was it a magic tool that only responded to divine power? Or something else? It seemed hostile towards Yuder upon his first visit to the office in this timeline, as if it had feelings of its own that could only be calmed by Kishiar silently chiding it.

Now we have a claim from ancient tale documentation that someone was once able to put part of themselves into a sword, and this may have been possible due to having the power of a dragon.

In the previous reading round I got to ch.1220, which introduced the tale of an evil dragon named Mezemeblen. This dragon was able to use a certain kind of magic that could move his soul from one body to another. So it seems plausible that as far as dragon abilities went, they could specifically move their souls from vessel to vessel.

So this is either the answer to what the Divine Sword Orr really is and the backstory will come, or it's a precursor to another soul possession reveal in the future.

Moving onto history and religion.

There was an "unknown era", which they hypothesize was to them what the "Great Destruction" is to the people of the current era. The biggest threat to them at that time was this "six-winged flame that set fire to half the sea." According to the scriptures of both the Black Moon and the Sun God (although worded as "demon" instead of "six-winged flame"), this thing stabbed the Sun God in the stomach. (ch.1225)

This might be a tale referencing how this destructive beast and/or force brought an end to the rule of the Sun God at the time, and from there on out a new and fresh era under the Black Moon began.

My guess is that these two sects have had a back-and-forth with authority and rule over the centuries. As one establishment of power decays and weakens, a "Great Destruction" builds up until it releases itself.

Tying into this is the information about how cracks and monsters come to be. According to the Scripture of the Black Moon, that god sacrificed themselves to become the "moon" to trap the "evil things" from the world to protect it. It was meant to hold these beings permanently, but for some reason it boils over after a certain time, the "moon" becomes increasingly thin and weak, tearing fragments through the skies, and that is how "monsters" come into their world. This is a cycle that repeats itself, and according to the scriptures, no matter what destruction is caused, God's power protects the world and it's restored. (all still ch.1225)

With this doctrine, something about the current Black Moon Order's leadership becomes clear to me. Back during their interrogation of Aton in ch.911, he revealed that the First Udaquan wouldn't go into the nitty gritty about why they had to disturb the balances of magic in the north. He only stated that they were "momentarily" altering the world in order to bring divine punishment against the usurpers (believers of the Sun God) and that they should go forth without doubt.

Their scriptures state that regardless of the destruction set to happen, God's grace saves the world in the end. To them this will not be a permanent destruction, but something that paves the way for them to pick up the pieces and reclaim their glory as the rightful rulers of the north.

But what has always seemed to be a specific requirement for this restoration to happen? Someone has had to come from the future to PREVENT the scale of destruction. Tales of people going back in time and saving the world are still present in their tribes' collective cultures, but has the Black Moon Order connected those specific dots? I doubt they have, since the collapse of the "world" (maybe just the north, really) went undisturbed in Yuder's original timeline.

If they do know, though, are they truly just banking on that? Though there will be a ton of destruction, some hero out there's going to prevent total destruction, and they're just going to take advantage of the weakness in the aftermath?

We need those records of the Last Black Moon Emperor and what he said about the Red Stone that would fall in the future. I need it like longing.

[nyaagolor]

Howdy again, if it's the meta world VS "real world" thing in Umineko that's got you stumbling, don't worry. The assumption Ryukishi and co. seem to be going with is that the meta world IS real, and everyone's just chilling in a happy magic afterlife post-series (hence how episodes 7, 8, and 9 can even happen). The "07th Expansion All Characters Settings Collection" guidebook even has little epilogue blurbs for the cast, I can link you the translation hosted on the wiki if you want. It's still bleak in the sense that, yknow, everyone was dead from the start and the whole journey was more of a "coming to terms with what happened" kind of deal, but I think it works given stuff like the Divine Comedy references going on (if you read Battler as Dante and Beatrice as uh, Beatrice, a lot of Umineko'll start to make sense). The way I see the split is kind of an "as above, so below" type deal - while Tohya is down in the land of the living trying to write and solve things, Battler and friends really are up there fighting for their lives in purgatory, and the two reflect each other. Of course if that's not the problem you have, I'd love to hear what you're thinking!

hiii thank u for the ask!! (sorry this will be a Long One). I'll admit the meta world / real world stuff tripped me up at first, because looking at episodes 4 and 8 it really seemed to be implying that the metanarrative was the coping mechanism of Ange+Tohya and their way of pretending like their loved ones got the happy endings they didn't get in life rather than something we can actually assume happened. However extra content implies this is not the case, Ryukishi doesn't feel like the author who would do that especially after the thesis of Higurashi, and tbh even if he did there was enough plausible deniability that I would just imagine the Golden Land as real because You Gotta Cope Somehow. I love the "as above so below" vibes too, that's a fun new aspect to incorporate

My biggest hangup with the ending was basically in the idea that Sayo's narrative is fundamentally doomed. I was under the impression that the boat scene was implying that Sayo couldn't be happy even if she did escape due to the burden of the truth / her trauma. The positive framing of the catbox remaining at the bottom of the ocean initially struck me as a "her death is the happiest ending you can hope for because of how fucked up this all is" which is already a nihilistic narrative but downright unbearable when given to an intersex trans woman. I just don't vibe with hopeless trans narratives at all, and felt like I had misinterpreted smth bc Ryukishi isn't really a nihilistic guy. I'll admit I got a little soured to the narrative as a whole when I looked around online and saw people talking about how Sayo getting a happy ending was "missing the point".

After talking to @heartgold I realized that I had reversed the causality a bit. I was under the impression while playing that Ryukishi's insistence that "things had to happen this way" was him not just saying "oh everyone is already dead, the end result is already the same bc we're looking back at past events" but also "it doesn't matter what individual actions people took, it was always going to end in tragedy". I realize now it's more of a "this was totally preventable in so many ways but it already happened and now we have to grieve and cope in whatever way we can manage" kinda thing rather than a "this is fate and Sayo was screwed regardless", so I'm cool with that aspect. (Also I won't lie I prefer to imagine the boat scene as almost entirely metaphorical and more of a representation of the fragmentation of Battler's consciousness due to trauma in a similar way as what happened to Sayo, but that's neither here nor there)

The other part of it, and the thing I'm still really hung up on, is the question of whether or not the Golden Land is actually a happy ending and, if it is real, whether we're supposed to view it as a sorta perverse tragedy. On one hand, the alters are all implied to be separate people and they get their happy endings (yay), but on the other hand that doesn't really fix nor address Sayo feeling like she needs romantic love to be fulfilled (also The Incest(?) I'm genuinely unsure if the whole "alters becoming separate entities" negates the incest or not). The idea that Sayo was so far gone that even the fantasy created from her best memories does not allow her to truly be happy is just so insanely depressing to me, so I find myself stuck with that friction of wanting Sayo to have her prince and her white horse and her fantasy happy ending while also not wanting to downplay the truth. Having this little moral dilemma feels like the point of Episode 8 and really gets us into Tohya's head, which is awesome, but also gives me a lot of mixed feelings. Knowing that Sayo's truth literally has Beatrice married to Battler makes it even tougher bc I can't just use plausible deniability and say they're platonic bc they are uh. very much not as far as Ryukishi is concerned. I'm still working out my feelings on it, mostly because I desperately want Sayo to have everything she's ever wanted but also having to contend with the little part of me that's whispering "it can't and shouldn't happen and you know it". Alas. Umineko.

PS: thank you for telling me about the character booklet, that's SO cute!!! I love the little details about everyone and the cat-ear Bern is everything I've ever wanted

[merionettes]

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life. 

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap. 

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did. 

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care. 

part of that was a reaction to my own old style—you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens. 

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point. 

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

[queer-cheer]

I’m not sure I believe it happened, even now. That I watched season two and Crowley managed to say in words that “our side” was far more than a work agreement or a friendly contract. That he kissed Aziraphale right on the mouth, and we all saw it. That it’s real and irrevocable. That a story about a botched Apocalypse is morphing into a tale about how we cannot place our sacred trust in institutions (even celestial ones), only in the people who love us. I’m not sure I believe that it’s happening. But I always knew it, you see.

And this feeling of watching it come to life when it wasn’t remotely plausible even ten years ago… I’m not sure I have words to describe it. I imagine it’s close to one of those eureka moments that scientists are supposed to have. When inspiration coalesces into something infinitely more divine and a couple pieces of the universe puzzle snap together to give us a fragment of what we’re missing.

Stories change in the telling.

[littjara-mirrorlake]

This one has a question. It's making a phyrexian OC based on a deck it made ( UB proliforate control) and has the idea of making the OC's magic based around manipulating the Ichor in the enemies body, that they inject in some way. Is that something that phyrexian magic can do?

That sounds plausible to me at least, yes!

Unfortunately we don't have a lot of direct canon information about what exactly ichor magic entails. My personal headcanon is that it's a very varied discipline with applications ranging from healing to divination to mind control, and a "bloodbending" effect would be well within that range.

I heard from somebody else that Tsabo Tavoc from old Phyrexia had a limited telepathic ability that only extended to creatures with ichor, and more recently we have Norn conducting mass ichor-based mind control in March of the Machine, so manipulating the ichor in someone else's body sounds very reasonable. Either through suggestions and mind control (targeting the mnemonic aspect of it), or directly, physically jerking someone around by their veins like a puppet.

While making a character that invested in ichor magic, you might also want to think about their relationship to Phyrexia's deep past, with which they'd have far more familiarity than most other Phyrexians. Assuming your character is New Phyrexian, they would've been surrounded by a society that largely only remembers Yawgmoth in misty fragments, save for the Steel Thanes faction that actively tries to scry back to his time and aspires to emulate it. What does your character think about Yawgmoth's legacy, and how Norn is trying (or failing) to replace him? How do other Phyrexians receive your character with their strange, unnerving power?

[yamayuandadu]

For the character breakdown, I’d love to see hadad, anat, shapash, yam, mot, athtar, kothkar and khasis... really any of the ugaritic pantheon, of course you don’t have to do all of them >.<, I’d just love to see your hot takes

I shall rise up to the challenge! I’m the only person on this site obsessed with Ugarit as far as I can tell... I covered everyone you asked for plus Ashtart and Yarikh. As much as I like burrowing through jstor and academia edu and persee and so on, I kind of wish there were more people approaching Ugaritic, Mesopotamian, Hittite etc. myths the way many do with Greek ones tbh - sometimes i’d just like to see which figures people think would be into gossiping and so on or which tacky modern fashion they think suits them equally as much as I want to find out if Yarikh’s portrayal in Ugaritic poetry owes more to Nanna/Sin or to the Hittite moon god. ALSO as far as this sort of light hearted takes go, there are two japanese artists on twitter who draw Baal cycle fanart: here and here.

Hadad: How I feel about this character: one of my fave mythical protagonist. I think I genuinely only like Inanna more. Going from a very relatable desire to get his own house to triumph over death is quite the journey. The relative powerlessness many interpreters point out is interesting, too - the fact he mostly gets somewhere because of allies and because even if El was the king of gods, Hadad’s attributes made him the king of people’s hearts arguably, so he has to win against overwheming odds. All the people I ship romantically with this character: Anat, Ashtart/Astarte/however we transcribe her name this week... Kothar? My non-romantic OTP for this character: given the Seth-Baal equation in Egypt and the uncertaininty over whether Astarte papyrus is about Seth or Baal under Seth’s name it’s funny to imagine them as friends. Also I’ll talk about it more underneath but since Dagan was a god with similar purposes further inland (and is attested earlier iirc) and Ugaritic texts - even though they rarely feature him - call him Hadad’s father - it would be cute to assume he also taught Hadad everything. My unpopular opinion about this character: I’m a Dagan parentage truther against all odds. It was the norm outside Ugarit! I think “Dagan isn’t in Ugaritic myths because they take place in Ugarit but people thought Dagan lives further inland in Tuttul based on prayers etc.” is enough to explain his absence from myths, and also note that in the epic Baal is “Dagan’s son” even when he’s at a low point (ex. when Yam demands he gives up his freedom or when he’s dead) and only El’s and Asherah’s son when he’s victorious for the most part (ex. during palace construction) - imo this makes it plausible that Dagan is his real dad and El and Athirat are only his parents in the way vassal rulers called emperors fathers. Likewise I think any references to siblings can be interpreted in the light of ex. kings of Ugarit calling kings of Carchemish or Alashiya brothers. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I really like how corny the Hittite/Hurrian storm god cycle is with Kumarbi constaly raising new challengers to attack Kummiya and dethrone Teshub/Tarhunna, I actually wish the Ugaritic one was longer too via a similar plot device. Also I wish Dagan actually appeared in myths alongside his son - Noga Ayali-Darshan had a theory he was in some oral tradition predating Baal cycle as the god announcing Yam demands a tribute since in Hurrian “Song of the sea” and in Egyptian “Astarte papyrus” a grain deity does this but a possible reconstruction isn’t much... Anat How I feel about this character: well, she’s not Inanna, but she’s still pretty good. I mostly like the parts of the Baal narrative which show her unpredictable character, like her probable parents being afraid of her, listing various never shown enemies she vanquished, or Mot’s death. Aqhat myth doesn’t interest me much. That myth fragment where she and Ashtart pity Yarikh because other gods treat him poorly is interesting, too. All the people I ship romantically with this character: Baal, Ashtart, that’s it I think. My non-romantic OTP for this character: she seems to get along really well with Shapash during the segment of the Baal cycle where Baal is dead. My unpopular opinion about this character: I really hate the speculation popular among bible scholars which amounts to making her, Ashtart and Athirat interchangeable to justify her irrelevance in the iron age. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: honestly? I wish an “Anat cycle” existed. She pretty clearly had a fair share of own adventures considering Baal enlists her help on the account of past accomplishments. Yam How I feel about this character: out of all antagonists in the basic middle eastern “storm god vs sea” narratives I think he has the most fun personality - Hedammu is barely a “character” and Tiamat lacks the more human dimension Yam has. All the people I ship romantically with this character: nobody, he has to move past the Astarte papyrus characterization and learn some respect for that smh My non-romantic OTP for this character: his nameless rude messenger who refused to bow down when speaking to the assembly of the gods My unpopular opinion about this character: contary to what this (very good) paper says, the Yam battle is more thrilling than the Mot one - the strength of the Mot part of the narrative comes from the visceral descriptions of Anat’s emotions but Mot is a flat villain compared to Yam. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: he had a seemingly positive role in cult and there are 13 known people with Yam theophoric names (out of 6000 or so people from Ugarit known by name) so I sort of wonder if there’s some lost myth where he’s the hero or something. Mot How I feel about this character: if nothing else, feeling offended by being offered bread and wine instead of corpses is pretty funny and a great introduction. And the pathetic attempt at a comeback shut down by Shapash is All the people I ship romantically with this character: unshippable by design tbh. My non-romantic OTP for this character: if the theory about Horon - the god from the “anti-snakebite text” and the “may horon crack your skull” curse - being a cthtonic god too - just a generally benign one - is true I think they could have a lot of comedic potential. My unpopular opinion about this character: I don’t understand where the idea of a nonexistent myth about Mot kidnapping Shapash and Yarikh comes from and I wish it wasn’t all over the place online. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: some more detailed description of the afterlife - Mot, rephaim, Horon if he really lives there - would be useful... Shapash How I feel about this character: she seems severly... underrated? There are maybe two papers about her (and one underlines the fact there isn’t much research on her) and yet she’s the second most prominent goddess in the Baal cycle AND has her own narrative in the anti-snakebite texts! She might actually be more remarkable than her Mesopotamian counterpart - with all due respect for Utu/Shamash, in myths he’s the boring sibling between himself and Inanna/Ishtar... All the people I ship romantically with this character: I don’t have any real ideas, some papers assume she and Horon were a thing but this is disputable and Horon is pretty nebulous himself... My non-romantic OTP for this character: “Kothar - your close friend!” from that one hymn has that covered. Since she’s basically a divine herald perhaps they travel together? My unpopular opinion about this character: I suspect the reason why she isn’t studied more is because many researchers are stuck with some sort of false “good mother goddess - evil sex goddess” dichotomy of ancient middle eastern religion and while you can force Athirat, Anat and Ashtart into these roles, Shapash with her aura of a divine equivalent of a mundane earthly official doesn’t fit into it and as such is ignored. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I said I hate the false Mot myth spreading online but I actually do wish there was a myth or at least a cult text of some sort showing what sort of relation existed between her and Yarikh - safe to say it didn’t mirror Shamash and Sin... Kothar-wa-Khasis How I feel about this character: huge fan of artisan gods and he seems genuinely nice. One of my Ugaritic b-list favorites. I like that he’s a reneissance man - armorer, architect, even a musician... The theory that he was developed based on Ptah since Memphis had a large foreign population is great. All the people I ship romantically with this character: Baal sort of? I imagine Baal is actually relatively knowledgeable about architecture given the length of the window debate in the Baal cycle... My non-romantic OTP for this character: Shapash, as I said earlier. My unpopular opinion about this character: based on the tale of King Keret some researchers argue he’s meant to be ugly like Greek Haephestus, but since I like the Ptah theory and his appearance isn’t described elsewhere AND King Keret might be satire where everyone is their worst self possible, I prefer to imagine him as handsome One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: supposedly from Caphtor and yet we never see Caphtor (Crete) in Ugaritic myths... come on, ancient scribes, surely someone went there? Maybe even recorded some proper Minoan myths? Ashtart How I feel about this character: she’s my favorite Ugaritic figure of limited relevance. An Ishtar/Inanna equivalent who seemingly curses other gods and presides over political pacts is a pretty solid premise! And it’s funny she rebukes Baal seemingly for insufficient dedication in battle. I wonder if the Egyptian fragment which implies Yam acted lecherous towards her is a factor in this tbh. Perhaps an earlier oral tradition had both these elements...? All the people I ship romantically with this character: Baal (her title is “face of baal”/”of the name of baal”, c’mon...), Anat (almost always listed together!) My non-romantic OTP for this character: Keret curses his son with a formula invoking both Horon and her so perhaps that’s who she’s learning curses from. My unpopular opinion about this character: I hate that “Astarte is Asherah” is widespread just because people want to defend the historicity of the biblical Jezebel narrative which probably even the biblical compilersdidn’t view as historical. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I wish she didn’t vanish from the Baal cycle after Yam’s defeat :C Attar How I feel about this character: this sure is... a guy. He’s so pathetic in the Baal cycle it’s hard to even see him as an antagonist - sorry, Handbook of Ugaritic Studies... All the people I ship romantically with this character: nobody, Shapash points out he’s single as the reason why he can’t rule and i don’t think that changes in any subsequent texts? But then Marriage of Nikkal and Yarikh iirc mentions he has a daughter... My non-romantic OTP for this character: again, nobody. My unpopular opinion about this character: he’s actually a pretty vital part of the Baal cycle and the fact he gives up on own accord makes him more interesting than the other “failed god” in a similar narrative, Ashtabi. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: a god with the same name was prominent in present day Yemen so I guess finding some direct connection would be nice - it fits with him leaving to “rule elsewhere” in the myth! Yarikh How I feel about this character: he’s so pitiful in the fragment which compares him to a dog begging for scraps... His main myth is pretty good too, tbh it’s the best middle eastern marriage myth imo - I actually don’t care for Dumuzi much, but Yarikh is cool. All the people I ship romantically with this character: only Nikkal-wa-Ib My non-romantic OTP for this character: given his mistreatment and Nikkal’s father(?) saying he could be a son in law of Baal I assume that in some unknown texts they must have been allies. Note that the Hittite storm god has the sun and moon gods acting as his metaphorical eyes warning him against Kumarbi’s new plots in song of Ullikummi. Also I assume Anat and Ashtart must consider him a friend given how they help him when nobody else does? All around he feels like a god in Baal’s orbit even though we have 0 direct proof for it. My unpopular opinion about this character: I think trying to correct him to Nanna is a doomed endeavor tbh. Their wives have similar names but Yarikh doesn’t give the impression of a “Father of gods” type deity in what little we know about him. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: more myths. None we know show him as the moon even though it’s literally his name! I am afraid I don’t have anything interesting to say about El and Athirat. Handbook of Ugaritic Studies has an amazing El summary that I generally stick to, I can post a cap if you are interested.

[lightcreators]

@moonshinemuses​

Misty  times  that  had  erupted  from  a  particular  chessboard  had  never  ended:  nor  that  mist  made  future  prospects  complicated,  where  a  constant  presence  hadn’t  been  enough  to  hold  a  king  slowly  decaying  in  his  distress;  nor  rain  of  suffering  to  which  a  meeting  in  a  chessboard  of  a  persistent  rain  had  left  no  light.  Perhaps  it  was  due  to  this  habit  ingrained  for  years  now,  in  this  long  period  of  a  rivalry  on  high  spheres  in  which  he  had  played  role  of  a  mastermind,  that  he  offered  an  amused  smile.  A  present  temptation  to  use  sarcastic  sentences,  to  assert  mimics  of  derision,  to  take  advantage  of  this  short  moment  to  engulf  himself  in  playfulness  appear  on  his  lips,  which  were  simply  closed  in  a  simple  smirk.  The  Underground  always  had  been  lonely  without  her,  and  he  passed  so  many  centuries  removed  of  her  presence  old  habits  no  longer  managed  to  show  through  as  before  …  replaced  themselves  by  others  customs  anchored  inside  his  behavior,  to  which  open  echo  of  his  heart  was  an  expression  known  only  to  her  …  and  of  the  kid  whose  keen  gaze  he  could  neither  avoid  nor  his  spectacular  comprehension  of  his  noble  self  in  every  corner.  Inside  ancient  times,  when  barriers  of  his  heart  had  been  untouched  and  never  damaged,  perception  of  that  latent  sadness  wouldn’t  endlessly  controlled  for  be  less  guessed.  That  part  of  himself  that  he  lose,  that  fragmented  lock  which  he  had  rendered  unreachable except  for  his  Queen  had  been  forcibly  destroyed  could  never  find  sufficient  healing  or  strong  protection to  be  reassured  on  guarantee  of  the  lock  installed:  he  had  in  his  concerns  of  this  immortal  and  a  worrying  look  of  witches,  without  feeling  any  relief.  Though,  not  everything  was  about  responsabilities,  when  his  mind  couldn’t  hardly  wander.  He  had  always  eyes  about  evolution  of  Lelouch  vi  Britannia  path,  when  regardless  absence  of  an  presence  and  constant  mocking  voice  in  his  ears,  he  remained  that  silent  presence  protecting  him  from  danger,  but  couldn’t  remove  this  guilt  eating  him  within  except  to  be  this  compassionate  shoulder  whose  tender  affection  he  would  refuse  even  now.  He  was  unable  to  temporarily  forget  the  kid  in  his  thoughts,  to  whom  his  trust  was  becoming  hesitant  on  any  magnificent  display  he  could  honor  his  presence,  and  feared  that  he  would  see  him  again  considering  the  Underground  as  a  holiday  club  in  which  he  could  do  anything  he  wanted  —  like  sitting  on  his  throne  when  he  was  away  or  risking  mocking  Thanatos.  Beyond  having  to  think  of  this  kid  in  a  broad  perspective  his  divine  reassurance  brought  little  results  —  between  constant  thoughts  of  fear  of  being  ignored,  and  occasional  remarks  in  distortion  of  his  behavior  in  grudge  of  sensation  of  having  been  forgotten  …    ❝  Here  you  are  again  at  home  ~ ☆  ❞  He  welcomed  her  playfully  and  brightfully,  even  if  he  sensed  his  hues  of  joy  were  more  measured  and  still  had  heaviness  of  his  pain.    ❝  We’ve  waited  long  enough  for  this  moment,  haven’t  we  ?    ❞  He  asked  rhetorically.  For  a  brief  moment,  germination  of  an  idea  of  a  party  appeared  in  his  mind,  nevertheless  had  lost  that  urge  for  a  long  time,  to  be  suddenly  resurrected  in  an  occassion  …  however,  although  it  seemed  plausible  in  the  means,  these  fragments  of  illusions  would  shatter  further.  In  front  of  her,  he  could  allow  himself  a  pout  of  displeasure  at  realization  that  he  wouldn’t  be  able  to  be  all  smiles  at  a  party  —  although  that  dark  world  of  the  Underground  would  have  a  temporary  enchanted  opening.  Although  the  kid  knew  how  to  give  Halloween  honor  by  giving  bloody  candies  to  a  certain  Witch  of  Origins  to  whom  the  witches  laughter  of  approval  was  an  macabre  melody  …  Sometimes  he  considered  this  as  an  indirect  praise  to  his  honor  from  this  kid,  even  if,  unfortunately,  his  amused  observatory  had  received  some  aftereffects  from  his  little  games.    ❝  I’m  glad  you  came  to  enjoy  your  husband’s  company~  I  was  ready  to  throw  you  a  party  to  light  up  the  Underground  a  bit,  however  I  doubt  I  have  right  mood  for  it  …  well,  I  didn’t  no  desire  to  have  to  justify  myself  to  Hypnos  and  Thanatos  again.  Recently,  express  requests  haven’t  stopped,  it’s  so  endless  that  I  prefer  to  distort  that  pressure.  He’s  the  kid  out  there,  he  needs  my  attention  twenty-four  hours  a  day  in  his  time.    ❞

[sisterofiris]

Does Satan mean “truth” in ancient Sanskrit?

Its proven that the Greek God Dionysus is the Hindu God Shiva by the academic book “Gods of Love and Ecstasy: The Traditions of Shiva and Dionysus” by Alain Danielou (an academic scholar and professor who lived in India). What do you think?

I’m not sure whether these two questions were asked by the same anon, but I’m posting them together since they both relate to ancient India.

Disclaimer: I’m not sure what led this person/these people to think I’m competent to answer these questions in depth, since I’ve never studied Sanskrit nor Hinduism. I will answer based on my knowledge of linguistics, Ancient Greek religion and general academia, but I might miss some more nuanced points which better informed people are free to correct (@protoindoeuropean for the Sanskrit maybe?).

Okay, so the etymology of Satan. The theory that it means “truth” seems to be based on sat + an (short for ananda according to this link, or anna according to this one). The problem with this kind of etymology is that, while it makes sense superficially, it doesn’t work historically or linguistically. We call these “folk etymologies”, etymologies based on apparent similarities between words, and they’re incredibly easy to create. Plato considers dozens of them for the Gods’ names in his Cratylus. I can even make up one of my own for Satan: what if the name came from Sumerian ša₃-ta-an, meaning “the sky from the heart”?

Sanskrit Satan may be linguistically possible - though I can’t comment on how - but we have an alternative which is clearly plausible, Hebrew שָׂטָן (śāṭān). This word, meaning “opponent” or “accuser”, is used in the Bible to refer not only to Satan, but also to common enemies. Take for example 1 Samuel 29:4:

וַיִּקְצְפ֨וּ עָלָ֜יו שָׂרֵ֣י פְלִשְׁתִּ֗ים וַיֹּ֣אמְרוּ לֹו֩ שָׂרֵ֨י פְלִשְׁתִּ֜ים הָשֵׁ֣ב אֶת־הָאִ֗ישׁ וְיָשֹׁב֙ אֶל־מְקֹומֹו֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר הִפְקַדְתֹּ֣ו שָׁ֔ם וְלֹֽא־יֵרֵ֤ד עִמָּ֙נוּ֙ בַּמִּלְחָמָ֔ה וְלֹא־יִֽהְיֶה־לָּ֥נוּ לְשָׂטָ֖ן בַּמִּלְחָמָ֑ה וּבַמֶּ֗ה יִתְרַצֶּ֥ה זֶה֙ אֶל־אֲדֹנָ֔יו הֲלֹ֕וא בְּרָאשֵׁ֖י הָאֲנָשִׁ֥ים הָהֵֽם׃

But the Philistine commanders were angry. “Send him back to the town you’ve given him!” they demanded. “He can’t go into the battle with us. What if he turns against us in battle and becomes our adversary? Is there any better way for him to reconcile himself with his master than by handing our heads over to him?” (New Living Translation)

If Satan did originally mean “truth”, its use in contexts like this wouldn’t make much sense.

The theory also sets of my alarm bells for a major reason: I can’t find any academic articles looking into it, and all the websites that discuss it are clearly non-professional and biased. To quote my guide to online research: “Generally, you should look for websites that are focused on your topic, not websites that use your topic to prove a point.”

One of the web pages I linked above claims: “Abraham took a lot of pre-existing ideas and twisted them for a self serving, fabricated religion, which proceeded to then twist even more ideas (and generations of minds) and created 2 more religions which all literally demonize a pursuit of objective empirical Truth. Satan & objectivity are not our enemy. A historical conditioning in dishonesty is our enemy.”

Now think about what people want to gain from claiming Abrahamic religion’s adversary, Satan, is Truth. Think about what kind of ideology this can lead to. Think really hard about whether that’s something you want to associate yourself with.

*

Let’s move on now to Alain Daniélou and his theory that Śiva is Dionysos. This has more scientific basis, since Dionysos has strong associations with the East and particularly India (Nonnos’ Dionysiaca are a good example). The first to draw a parallel between Dionysos and Śiva seems to be Megasthenes, a Greek historian who travelled with Alexander the Great to India. In his Indica (preserved in fragments), Megasthenes describes several native Indian deities, including Heracles and Dionysos; however, this is not proof that Heracles and Dionysos are Indian, but rather an example of something called interpretatio graeca - calling foreign deities by their closest Greek equivalent. Herodotus does this a lot in Book 2 of his Histories, where he refers to Horus as Apollon and Isis as Demeter, among others.

Megasthenes was likely tapping into the similarities between Dionysos and Śiva, of which there are undoubtedly many. I could find a number of academic articles discussing them. However, only Alain Daniélou seems convinced that both Gods are the same entity - other scholars view them as deities with similar roles within their pantheon.

It is possible Dionysos and Śiva have the same origin, or that they influenced each other mutually. There was certainly contact between the Middle East and the Indus Valley, and between the Greek peninsula and the Middle East, as long ago as the Early Bronze Age. I don’t know enough to tell you how likely the adoption of an Indian deity into the Greek pantheon is, but, though I’m not opposed to the idea, I’m not likely to trust Alain Daniélou on it. Why? Because he tells me himself:

This book is not an essay on the history of religions. (p. 7)

This is confirmed by the lack of understanding he displays about archeology, linguistics, and the ancient Mediterranean/Near Eastern world. But more than his lack of scientific rigour, I want to draw attention to these three quotes from the foreword:

The dark forces which seem to rule the modern world have shown great ability in diverting, deforming and annihilating all man’s instinctive urges toward basic realities and the divine order of the world. (p. 8)

The way of Shiva-Dionysus is the only way by which humanity can be saved. (p. 9)

There is no other true religion. (p. 10)

Again, think about what he’s trying to gain by writing this book. Think carefully about how this influences its content. Can religious ideology really be considered academic “proof”?

*

I hope I don’t come off as too harsh on these topics. It’s okay to get confused by what is trustworthy and what is not! The most important thing is to keep asking questions, both of yourself and to others. Don’t stop at the surface. If you’re not sure where to start, I really recommend checking out my guide to online research :)

[ubu507]

plausibly divine fragments

[attourney-at-lycan]

honestly, opening the irene dimension makes no sense period

how tf did zane open the irene dimension w/ a LITERAL baby making (kiki’s) amulet and a fucking shadow knight/age increasing (alexis’s) necklace.

how tf did zoey open the irene dimension by giving up her immortality.

how tf did aaron open the irene dimension with a “divine fragment”??? what the fuck is a divine fragment????

ACTUALLY. zoey’s method makes more sense than anything, giving up your fucking life force to forcefully open the irene dimension sounds sm more plausible. IN FACT. if you shove in aaron’s divine fragment with zoey’s immortality, it sounds sm better than zane’s method

can i just say. the way aaron opens the irene dimension makes no sense whatsoever. like i completely forgot how he did this and it doesn’t add up AT ALL?

like in the few months s2 takes place over it’s only been SECONDS for garroth and zane. but when aaron goes inside he is there for many seconds!! so shouldn’t it have been like months for them to actually get out of there…like this makes no sense at all…in any way

anyways i’m so happy he’s gone sorry aaron stans and apologists but GOD is he an annoying character in canon!

[willard-writes]

Smog Ponders, a Xylitol Drabble

< Yo yo, Muno here again. Been a while since I wrote something, but for a while I was focused on my Bean roleplaying and inspiration for some stuff didn’t really click. But this time I felt something, due to imagery in my head. Simply put I was thinking about the movement of the physical state of the Gasmoxian deity, The Smog, and I just sort of ran with it. >

< This is more or less like a free-form first person writing, I just typed as I went. Also feat. even more characters, Glycerin’s trio of hybrid spawn, Lithium, Citric, and Chlorine. To sum that up shortly, Lithium is the eldest, the only one that is of two Gasmoxian species, and is very much the warrior out of all their half-siblings. Citric is the middle child, half bug half human, all arrogance. And Chlorine’s the only one that is truly an optimist, the bubbly type, considering well they are half something completely opposite to Gasmoxia entirely. >

Divine intervention, a construct of mortals that I've always found myself intrigued with, the concept of one so powerful that looms among all life needing to interfere with the affairs of others. It is interesting to me, because I have so much power, yet one thing I've loved doing this past little while is just watching chain reactions upon chain reactions, imagining the possibilities yet to come, yet I need not lift a finger. What can I say, the royals that I created are just so perfect, they give our beloved universe more than enough to work with. If there was anything that I could credit that dear sweet voice within the back of my conscious with, it's that their life brought so much dismay, only to lead into the joy that was Glycerin III.

But alas, sometimes watching is not just quite enough, I wish to truly observe, to truly see the wonders within the walls of the luxurious palace that has been maintained for many thrilling centuries, and when I wish something, when I am so deserving, I will get it. It's not like it is at all difficult, to break a fragment of my smoggy essence and look from the point of view of my distorted visage. The process is not difficult, neither is getting used to travelling on my four legs, the lack of any heartbeats coursing through me as my upper pair of arms proudly positioned themselves behind my back. Anything past the physical aspect is not any hindrance either, as much as a spectacle as it would be to see the overseer roaming around, it is exceptionally easy for me to do my act of slipping into the castle, completely unnoticed. Anyone who sees one of my eyes glancing in their direction knows to look the other way regardless.

No matter how glamorous the royal building is, the cutesy decor doesn't even flinch as I pass it by, my steps silent, not a single tremble in my lower-heavy build. I feel absolutely light on my feet, actually, as I start climbing the stairs, all my eyes going in different directions, catching glimpses and taking notes of every little thing. Losing myself to the little bits of souls within me having their own remarks on the matter, I soon found myself at the highest floor of the palace, the location of the queen's quarters herself. I consider entering, but she seemed occupied enough, the sounds of chittering and clicks from what I presume is another sleepless night for Glycerin, wasting away to the bright lights of television. I cannot say I particularly envy her state of temporary bliss and numbness, filling her life with as much as she can to shove aside any sorrow, her swarm not being the only thing that eats away at her.

I would speak to her, encourage her to bring Oxide home, but she doubts I even exist. Besides, I can just do that on my own, she's done so much already with letting his co-ordinates be known, his presence still lingering as he wants to keep up with what is going on in his planet that he should rule. He's stubborn though, I don't think I could bring him here and establish any sort of my own mark on planet Earth, his spawn wouldn't do me any good for giving my being some sort of leeway or territory onto that planet. How hard it is for a god to ease it's way into conquering a world with it's own four hands and one hell of a silver tongue? Maybe Citric could be of use for that, they seem particular naive, wanting, and foolish... like a human should be.

Oh, right, I almost forgot about my reason for lingering around here, the other chain reactions. Softly skittering my way down to the penultimate floor, the guest rooms for those that the queen likes to keep close, I twist my head around, just to check if there is anyone nearby. No guards, nor one particularly sneaky mantidfly. Lithium is an everyday sight though, I am more interested in the visitor, slinking my way to another door, disappearing into nothing before materializing in the room's interior.

I can't help but absentmindedly smile as I look around the room. Very well kept, but not unexpected, just different. This very certain guest very much liked to keep things tidy, even when there were maids at their service, they would rather keep things very convinient and simple, or maybe it was just a habit that is already well into their natural life. Or both, both is plausible, as well as very fitting. One of my lower hands gripped onto the end of the bed, my upper eyes looking at the being way up ahead, small and snug underneath the blanket. Odd, seeing little Chlorine without their eyepatch, but their other eye could close just fine. What a peculiar thing that was, that every tiny thing in their other eye was completely intact, but just nonfunctioning, but it can't be helped, life is a miracle, but defects and disturbances are even more so.

My curiosity continuing to be very piqued, I took some steps closer to the comfortable half-nymph, and in an instant, their eyes shot open, staring at me as their mouth opened in wonder, two sharp fangs very much visible, but not giving the vibe of hostility. I thought about staying to chat with them, hearing this small voice ask what I was, presumably already too eager to know more about what lied beneath this half of their heritage, but to keep them wanting answers, I covered Chlorine's functioning eye, merely chuckling as I turned into nothing once more, the black mist covering up their vision as I fled, gone in the blink of an eye. This was for the best, or so I thought, there was potential for a lot, if Chlorine went around asking their genetic family about me, the tale of the Almighty Smog itself.

I considered doing another round of the palace before retreating back into the planet's atmosphere, but as my visible being came together, I heard something drag itself across the ground nearby. shifting it's weight slightly. Not moving from my position, my head turned in place, craning a bit to get a better look. It was Lithium, somehow awake, their red slit-like pupils glaring at me, exposing their sharp teeth beneath their beak. Now that was the aggression I had very much avoided.

Turning my body, thinking about how they were much more wise than their younger siblings, I had expected to hopefully have a word with them, but they charged at me immediately, their curved sword stabbing right through me. I didn't flinch, merely holding up all my arms.

"Sorry, I mean no trouble, dearest Lithium. You've become so capable, perfect for the enforcer in a family of twig-like bugs. But you were made for fighting, were you not? Well, figuratively speaking, of course. I'm impressed that you didn't think of holding back."

"..."

"You can respond to me, we're family, no? You know about your guardian deity, yet you immediately aren't very keen on me. You never came across to me as a heretic type."

"..."

"Please, remove your blade, I don't want my nothingness affecting such a fine weapon. Was it crafted just for you?"

Yet, they continued to stay unresponsive as they backed off, the blade of their weapon retreating into the hilt. They just continued to glare at me as their four legs scraped against the ground. Finally, they said something. "Keep quiet. You want your subjects to not associate their deity as some nighttime nuisance? If not, then keep quiet." They finally turned their head as they went back to their room.

Oh, if only you understood diplomacy, Lithium. Very unbecoming of a substitute prince, to be so strong, yet so silent. Oh well, if that was my cue to bid adieu, then so be it.

[snitnation]

Sequel to Actaeon’s death

6. The prose summary in Apollod. Bibl. 3.4.4 (supra n.3) concludes with a sequel to the hero's death in which Chiron comforts the grief-stricken dogs by showing them a likeness of their former master. Chiron, who had been Actaeon's tutor, and the grieving dogs also appear in some twenty one lines of hexameters preserved in POxy 2509. Lobel first published this as possibly a fragment from the Catalogue. The Michigan papyrus published by Renner (supra n.3) strengthens the argument for its Hesiodic origin. It gives a fuller picture of the literary sequel going back to the archaic period and reflected in the prose summary of the Bibliotheca. In these verses a goddess comes to Chiron and delivers a prophecy that Dionysus will possess for a time the dogs of the murdered Actaeon but that they will later return to Chiron. A. Casanova, "II mito di Ateone nel Catalogo esiodeo," RFIC 97 (1969) 31-46, identifies the speaker as Artemis and proposes readings which provide reasonable sense to the passage. Cirio (1977) 46-47 further emended the text slightly; I give a translation of this version: Quickly she darted through the fruitless air And came to the large cave where Chiron lived, Having the nymph, Nais, as a wife who pleased his heart. Then she spoke winged words to Phillyridas: Chiron, you yourself know that just as the immortal gods So will be the glorious son of famous Semele And aegis-bearing Zeus, Dionysus of great joy, Who will sometime have pleasure possessing these dogs On Mount Parnassus. And when the father of gods and men Leads him to among the race of the gods who exist forever, The dogs will come back again to this place by themselves And will be yours forever. Thus the daughter of great Zeus, the aegis-bearer, spoke, And took away the mighty madness from the wretched dogs. And she went then toward Olympus, away from the earth of the wide ways To among the race of the immortal gods who live forever. And at once grief for their dead master, Actaeon, seized the dogs, And they recognized the murder of their lord. They all filled the cave with barking, and, one after another, With dust raised by their feet; and all shed hot tears, Making the place resound with divine lamentation. Casanova makes the plausible suggestion that Artemis is intervening as Chiron is about to kill the dogs in vengeance. The account in the Bibliotheca concerns the last stage of this narrative. We may posit that Dionysus will have enjoyment of these hounds because they were the instrument to avenge an act of hybris against this mother Semele. The narrative would thus conform to the archaic version of Actaeon's fate. It probably belonged to a sequential account of Theban legends, dealing with the daughters of Cadmos and their progeny, in which diverse stories were put in a genealogical structure. Kossatz (1978) 143-45 argues that the story of Actaeon was from its very beginning closely tied to Dionysus. - Carl C. Schlam, Diana and Actaeon: Metamorphoses of a Myth https://www.thetempleofnature.org/_dox/artemis-and-actaeon-metamorphoses-of-myth.pdf (pp 84, 85)

[jboitmbd-blog]

Banshee Prime Bio

Banshee Prime:

"Hey, wait up!", Seleki yelled at her friends as they began to disappear into the large crowd of people amassed before the concert stage.

It seemed as if the entire moon had gathered for this event. There were spectacles of light and color dotting the landscape. People from cultures the world over had stationed here for this annual event. "Moshdragun" as the local governing body had dubbed. It roughly translates to "Divine Circus". Living on Lua was almost like being in a circus on the daily. The large, golden trusses that encapsulated the moon made that comparison even more prevalent.

Seleki navigated through the swath of entertainers and thrill-seekers to regroup with her friends. They had a bad tendency to leave her in the dust during their adventures. She never was a fan of rushing straight into the limelight. The notions that directed her life were a bit more cautious than that. She was one of the few people  on Lua her age that hailed from elsewhere. Her parents were very successful diplomats, making their application for a residency that much more plausible. Lua was a breeding ground for excellence, and the powers that would be abstained from anything less than impressive. Typically families with pre-existing children were discouraged from applying, but there were a few instances where a child could be subjected to rigorous testing in order to gain entrance. Seleki managed to power through the tests with few hardships, but it placed a seed of doubt in her mind that would continue to grow. She may have been accepted into the grand society, but ever looming was the possibility of expulsion. With her parents' careers constantly carrying them to distant planets, she was more or less on her own. Even her friends had made a note of this from time to time. Her social sphere and dedicated studying were her only tethers to solid ground here. A rather burdening prospect to endure for someone going through puberty. Still, she carried on like everyone else. Trying to balance her social and professional lives. She didn't care much for large crowds of people. Too many factors to weigh in, too much chaos to control.

She began to reach the epicenter of the event. Large, decorative pillars sat with a billowing tapestry hanging off of the tops. The tapestry was handcrafted, depicting a scene of explosive grandeur. There were figures of men and women all striking various poses. It seemed to be a recreation of some great communion. There was an overlaying figure of some strange, humanoid creature. The face bore no notable features, yet stared straight into the viewer. A gaze uninterrupted and captivating. Seleki preferred not to look at it with too much effort, as her friends were still roaming about. She moved past the tapestry, but was intercepted by a parade of cosplayers all dressed for battle. The lead figure was adorned with ornamental armor. Underneath her golden scales was a silky linen that seemed to float just above the ground, allowing her the appearance of levitation. She moved like a wraith, leading into a flurry of interactions with the rest of the trope. Her weapon of choice was a whip fashioned from a lunar pitcher. As she swung the small pod, a plethora of vibrant flora erupted from the casing. There were a few glowflies that remained on the plants as they careened through the air. Their presence made time halt for Seleki.

Her heart began to beat faster and faster as the flowers transformed into bullets that hammered the side of a great, myopic beast of a machine. The area around her was a tattered version of the once proud Lua. The scars upon the ground told a vicious story of continuous strife. In the background was a fragmented truss; still enormous by proportion, but now leaves little to no impression. The skies were littered with bright projections emanating from various landscapes. The once beautiful showstopper of a woman was now a macabre soldier dressed in a patchwork uniform. Their gun had started to jam, and before they could react the machine rushed through them leaving only a bloodstain on the ground. Seleki looked down at her hands to see robotic prosthesis struggle to move. She didn't panic. She looked over to the machine and raised a hand towards the vicinity. It reacted like a dog being beckoned by its owner, rushing over to her hand. She balled a fist and the machine roared with an aggressive tone. Hatches popped open and small turrets peeked out, sparking with an unstable energy. She looked over to her right and saw more soldiers moving in on their position. With her other hand she flung three fingers towards the landscape, forcing the machine to jolt forward with a volley of hellfire and mayhem. The crowds were annihilated in seconds, leaving only ashes in the midst. Seleki started to move towards the machine, but her body began to shiver uncontrollably. Her ears began to ring with an increasing pitch, and the ground cracked at the seams. She held her hands to her head, looking in every direction for the source. The machine began to spaz out; running in circles before it fell on its side. The noise kept beaming through her mind. She looked down to see blood dripping steadily from her mouth. She began to whimper before falling to her knees. She closed her eyes and the ringing stopped.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the familiar ground of the festival. She was on her knees, panting and sweating. Her friend, Nyla was consoling her.

"Are you going to be okay?", she asked with dire concern, her eyes rapidly inspecting Seleki's body.

"Yeah," Seleki responded, wiping the tears from her face. "I'll be fine."

She took a deep, labored breath and stood up.

"Alright, let's get back to the fun and excitement. You'll look much better crying on your knees with us around," Nyla jested awkwardly.

Seleki held onto Nyla's arm as she moved out towards a bustling circle of people. Seleki began to fondle her arms, trying to figure out the strange sensation she felt.

"Having fun?" Nyla asked with a grin.

"What? Oh, no. I just had an odd feeling."

"It's alright. Most people don't even notice I have prosthetics. Thankfully here on Lua they are pretty much indistinguishable from the real thing."

Seleki felt a hint of nausea wash over her, but kept holding onto her friend.

"It's still you. And that's all that matters," Seleki sighed and nuzzled up to Nyla even more.

"Jeez. Don't let Ingoya see us. You know he has a crush on you, right?", Nyla chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe I'll give him a chance," Seleki smiled as the rest of their friends came into view.

All rights reserved to Julio J. Ramirez (ramirezjj72195)

[pocketseizure]

The Price of Wisdom, Chapter 4

The Conscious Horror of Destruction

Zelda learns a dark secret of the Sheikah tribe, and Ganondorf makes a silent resolution to become Ganon.

Chapter 4/6 ☆ 2,900 words ☆ Also on AO3 ☆ Cover Illustration

* * * * *

As the bright lights of Zelda's vision faded, she realized that she was no longer touching the gluey black substance that gathered in a thick puddle between the crenellations lining the top of the castle wall. It had drawn away from her hand in an uneven circle, leaving her touching nothing more than the rough stone.

The palm and edges of her hand were bright red, and her skin tingled. Although she hadn't been aware of any pain while she was lost in her vision, the goo apparently had a caustic effect on her flesh. Had it moved to prevent her from being harmed? Zelda stared at the orange eyes emerging from the guard tower. They were still watching her.

"What are you?" she asked, but of course there was no answer.

Whatever it was, the black slime did not seem to bear her any ill will. If it could move and shift of its own volition, she reasoned, then perhaps she might be able to forge a path through it. She was still disturbed by the creosotic viscosity of the faintly pulsing mass, but it was certainly worth a try.

Zelda entered the guard tower, gritting her teeth as she passed through the ring of gelatinous goop surrounding the open doorway. As soon as she saw what was on the other side, she immediately understood that she would not be able to climb down from here, as the black goo was completely blocking the stairs. An oily film on its surface shimmered as it oozed along the corners of the walls. The stairwell was like one of the tar pits she had seen on her travels through Faron, seemingly shallow and placid but inescapable once an unlucky creature set foot into it.

Although it seemed obvious in retrospect, Zelda realized that the substance was probably coming from below. Which was odd, she mused, staring at the quagmire that used to be a guard tower, because Hyrule Castle did not have a "below." There were no dungeons or underground stores of provisions or treasure hoards or anything of the sort, and the constant downhill flow of water meant that there was no need for an elaborate sewer system. The only area of the castle that stood out in her mind as a possible source of the slime were the docks hidden in a cave on the north side of the hill supporting the castle. To get there, she would need to use the secret passage in the library, which could be accessed through the Great Hall. As luck would have it, the main entrance was just below her.

Zelda turned and looked through the doorway in the direction she had come. The black substance had already begun to ooze a slow progress forward, blocking her passage. She could return the way she came, but it would be difficult if the goo did not consent to move away from her feet. Instead of attempting to wade through the slime, she exited the guard tower from its opposite door and continued upward along the wall.

Before long, Zelda was just above the spacious courtyard in front of the Great Hall. There was no easy way to descend to the ground from her position, so she paused to consider her options.

What would Link do?

As soon as this thought crossed her mind, it was accompanied by a mental image of the young man swinging himself over the edge of the wall and climbing down the stones. Link had never allowed any barrier to stand in his way, and he had been in the habit of finding surprising and unorthodox methods of navigation during their excursions into the wilder areas of Hyrule.

Zelda admired Link's courage and determination just as much as she envied his strength and dexterity, but it would be impossible for her to emulate him. How could she scale the castle wall in a dress and sandals?

She sighed and continued to gaze into the courtyard. An odd sound whirred at the edge of her attention, and she looked directly down to find the blue eye of a Guardian staring back up at her. She gasped and threw her hands in front of her face. The instinctual gesture was useless, she realized, but a second later she noticed that there was no red dot from the machine's targeting system on her palm. Like the eyes emerging from the black slime, the Guardian seemed to be content simply to watch her.

As Zelda lowered her hands, she saw the lens of the Guardian's mechanical eye shift slightly. To affirm what she had seen, she waved her arm in a slow circle, and there was a faint buzzing as the Guardian adjusted its view. Despite herself, Zelda was impressed. The Sheikah technicians had not been able to get the machines to track movement on their own. Whoever was controlling them now must know what they were doing.

Zelda remembered a conversation she had once had with Purah about the preservation of Sheikah technology. After years of excavation and testing, everyone in the kingdom knew about the Divine Beasts and how a long-ago king had decided that they were too dangerous to remain in Hyrule. What Zelda wanted to know was how the Sheikah managed to retain their knowledge of how to assemble and maintain Guardians, even hundreds of years after the construction of such machines had been forbidden by law.

Purah, who was used to Zelda's questions, hadn't been surprised by the inquiry, but she'd seemed reluctant to answer. When Zelda pressed her, she finally admitted that most Sheikah knew nothing about machines, and those who sought to find out more without permission were harshly punished. Information was divided between families so that it would remain fragmented and esoteric, and dissemination of this information outside of one's family meant exile.

"I'm not sure I understand how that's plausible," Zelda had objected. "What happens when someone marries into another Sheikah family? There can't be that many pure-blooded Sheikah left. What happens when a Sheikah marries a Hylian or a Gerudo?"

"Such matters are regulated by the elders," Purah muttered, embarrassed by the question. "Our marriage partners are chosen for us, usually generations in advance."

"But that's awful!" Zelda exclaimed. "Even I have some choice in who I marry! Surely exceptions must be made."

"Our highest duty is to the royal family," Purah responded, shaking her head. "We regulate ourselves, and that's why we can be trusted. After all, not just anyone can be counted on not to misuse the technology we've been entrusted with, or not to steal it. We protect the history and the secrets of the kings and queens of Hyrule, and it is an honor for us to serve the kingdom."

"And we thank you for your service," Zelda said softly, unsure of how to respond.

"I've heard that..." Purah began, her words trailing off as she started fidgeting with a device that resembled a smaller version of the Sheikah slate. She swallowed and started again, still looking at the screen of the machine in her hands. "I've heard that there are still Sheikah in the shrines that people have reported appearing in Hyrule. They've been there for hundreds of years, preserved and somehow still alive, just waiting for the Calamity to appear again. I want to say that can't be true, but I think... I think it may be possible."

"I think we may have the technology to allow for long-term stasis," Purah continued in a smaller voice. "Gradual physical regeneration may also be possible, but I don't think it was ever perfected, and... Who would volunteer for such a fate? Even among the Sheikah?"

Purah didn't meet Zelda's eyes as she spoke. Zelda followed Purah's gaze down to her device and saw that she was clenching it so hard that the tips of her fingers were white.

"I'm afraid, to be honest," Purah said, laughing nervously. "It's an honor to be entrusted with this technology, but what happens after we fight the Calamity? What happens if we win? What happens when the Sheikah families decide that this knowledge should once again be buried along with the shrines? What if we learn too much? Some people have already started to talk about forming their own clan and setting up a base in the desert, but..."

"The desert isn't so bad," Zelda interjected, thinking of the time she'd spent with Urbosa during her visits to Gerudo Town. "And there's no reason the Sheikah should have to devote themselves to Hyrule if they don't wish to," she added.

Purah looked uncomfortable. "No, you don't understand, those people are crazy. They've been throwing around wild ideas about armed resistance, and the way they feel about the royal family is..."

Suddenly there was a loud crash as one of the Guardians ambling across the yard collapsed on its legs. Purah flinched and cringed, and when someone shouted for her she bowed her head slightly in Zelda's direction in apology and then started to jog over to the accident.

As Zelda watched her join the rest of the Sheikah technicians, she wondered if she and Purah had ever really been friends – or if they ever really could be. On several occasions she had enjoyed amiable chats with a girl named Impa, an apprentice to one of the Sheikah appointed to her father's personal guard. Although Impa was only a year or two older than her, and though they enjoyed one another's company, there had always been a distance between them. Impa was continually coming and going from the castle, and sometimes, even after she returned, she would not be seen for days. No one ever explained where she went or what she did, and Zelda had known better than to ask.

Now, standing on the wall of an empty castle and staring down at the Guardian that was watching her silently with its single glass eye, Zelda wondered what it meant for the Sheikah to serve the royal family. What sacrifices did they have to make, and why did they choose to make them? Zelda had later been attacked by the renegade Sheikah that Purah had warned her about, and in one instance she had almost been killed. Still, she couldn't help but feel pity for the people who had banded together and started calling themselves "the Yiga Clan." If even Purah, who enjoyed an admirable level of self-confidence and a passion for her interests that was so focused that it sometimes resembled tunnel vision, could confess to being afraid, how must other members of the Sheikah tribe feel?

Zelda closed her eyes and shook her head to clear her mind. This was not the time or the place to dwell on such matters. She could investigate the relationship between the Sheikah and the Hylian monarchs once Ganon had been dealt with, but first she had to find it.

She needed to enter the castle from the main courtyard, but she had already ascertained that it was impossible to climb down the stairs in the guard towers. If Link were in this situation, she thought, he would take the most direct route. In her current position, the most direct route meant climbing down the wall. With nothing but flimsy sandals on her feet and an active Guardian watching her from below, it wasn't an ideal scenario, but she didn't have much of a choice.

Zelda gathered her dress around her waist and gingerly swung her leg over the edge of the wall. She then moved her other leg so that she was sitting on the narrow ledge between crenellations, taking care not to get herself twisted in the hem of her dress. She shifted her weight and turned so that her back was to the courtyard, and then she slowly lowered her foot to seek purchase in a crack between the stones of the wall. She repeated this process with her other leg, and then she began to make her way down, foot by foot and stone by stone.

She knew her ankle would twist a moment before it happened. The pain was so sudden and severe that she lost her grip. Gravity seemed to pull her downward in slow motion, and she watched the stones of the wall fall away from her as if it were happening to someone else.

A thick string of black ooze shot into her field of vision. How can it move so fast? Zelda thought, strangely dissociated from what was happening to her, but then it wrapped around her arm and spun itself into coils around her skin, jolting her back to reality.

The oily slime was foul and unclean, and it stung like rubbing alcohol, yet after her initial moment of shock Zelda realized that it had caught her and saved her from falling. The touch of the substance was almost gentle, and even as it burned her skin the pressure it exerted as it held her was oddly intimate. Zelda gritted her teeth as she held her body rigid. She was embarrassed that she did not feel more disgust, and she cursed herself that she should have any reason to feel grateful to the bituminous muck that had infested the castle.

Is this Ganon? she asked herself, the moment of her fall seeming to spool out as she hovered in the air. Was this the form it had taken for her? Perhaps a proper princess would have seen a proper monster, but for a failure like her there was only a formless blob of black goo that could not even be suitably menacing. Was this a reflection of her heart? Was this the consequence of the doubt and frustration she felt when she should be filled purely with light?

Maybe I deserve to fall, she thought, and she closed her eyes.

Instead of hitting the ground, she felt herself being gently placed on her feet.

"But surely this is not necessary," a deep voice said calmly, so close that it seemed to be right next to her.

Startled, Zelda opened her eyes. There was indeed a man standing at her side, and it only took her a fraction of a second to recognize him as the Gerudo boy she had encountered in her earlier visions. He was older now, and he seemed to have grown into his full height. He towered over the man standing next to him, who had the white hair and red eyes characteristic of the Sheikah. They were both wearing clothing adorned with the crying eye of the Sheikah crest, and Zelda was surprised to see that the Gerudo man had his hair bound up in a Sheikah topknot.

"I know it's unsavory, but there's no other way, really," the Sheikah said, and Zelda stepped forward to get a better look at his face. He appeared troubled, and Zelda followed his gaze to a scene playing itself out in the castle yard.

A Bokoblin was chained to a post with iron manacles, and it struggled to free itself as a Guardian slowly approached on its spindly legs. When the Bokoblin jerked to the left, the Guardian's glass eye swiveled to track it as a group of Sheikah technicians standing off to the side made notes on their slates. A red tracking dot appeared on the Bokoblin's forehead, causing it to begin shrieking.

Zelda had seen dozens of Bokoblins fall at the point of Link's sword, but there was something about the treatment of this poor creature that horrified her.

"She's begging for you to let her go," Ganondorf said, raising his voice. He was clearly upset, and Zelda could tell from the tension in his posture that he was making an enormous effort to restrain himself. "She says she's done nothing wrong."

"Those things are intruders in this kingdom," the Sheikah responded. "They know exactly what will happen to them if they cross our borders."

"How could they know? Hyrule has no diplomatic relations with them. There isn't even anyone here who's bothered to learn their language. What right do you have to imprison them and use them like this? Isn't it enough that we used their labor to build the Divine Beasts?"

"It's admirable that you learned how to communicate with them, Ganondorf, but you have to understand that they're no better than animals. These creatures are savages and thieves, and they can't be reasoned with."

"People used to say that about the Gerudo."

The Sheikah frowned and looked even more uncomfortable. "There may have been conflicts between our countries in the past, but you can't equate the Bokoblins with the Gerudo."

The Bokoblin chained to the post continued to scream and cry.

"She says she was just trying to help her children," Ganondorf said softly. The Sheikah looked down and shook his head.

Ganondorf inhaled and clenched his fists. "I'm going to put an end to this."

He began to stride across the yard, but before he had taken half a dozen steps the Guardian's beam sliced through the air with an astringent ozone crackle. The Bokoblin's cries were suddenly silenced as her head exploded. Blood and tissue splattered to the ground at her feet. The chains holding her clanked heavily as her body collapsed.

In the silence that followed, Zelda could hear Ganondorf exhale. She watched the tension drain from his shoulders, but there was something about how the muscles of his back relaxed that frightened her more than if he had flown into a rage. She sensed that a decision had been made, and that it had been as easy and effortless as a heartbeat in the small space between breaths.

This was it, Zelda realized, her body growing cold as the edges of her vision became stained with a creeping darkness. She had gone looking for Ganon, and now she had found him.

( Chapter Five )