concerningwolves

[concerningwolves]

Unfortunately, the passport story is most likely false.

The passport image is an artist's recreation from 2020, at any rate – there is no visual or physical evidence for the passport itself. (A passport that, if it existed, wouldn't be solely in English). Still absolutely hilarious as a concept, seeing as Ramses II was flown to Paris, just not proof.

The New York times reported on Ramses' arrival in France on Sept. 27 1976, and although the article says he was given a stately reception with an honour guard, there is no mention of a passport. Still nice that he got the honour guard though!

National Geographic claims that he had a passport in this article on passports, but the link given as a source bounces to the Sky News homepage. At any rate, Sky News was founded in 1989, so it's not a contemporary source and may well have been another call in the game of telephone that seems to surround this story. If anyone has/finds any sources on the passport's existence please lmk though because I'm fascinated by this!

it’s the “date of birth: 1303 BC” for me...

[concerningwolves]

what i love so much about this is that we all know from the og trilogy what happens to haymitch. we know that no matter how bad it gets he's gonna end up severely traumatised and reliant on alcohol to cope. but my god it is fascinating seeing precisely how it gets That Bad. every time you think that this is the Moment when he breaks, something else happens, and with each bad thing more pieces fall into place until the puzzle completes and you're left with the most fucked up & tragic & devestating image. god.

the end of sunrise on the reaping made me cry so hard I felt nauseous and I WHOLEHEARTEDLY recommend it

[concerningwolves]

The tribes of Tumblr appeared to worship Apollo as their primary patron deity, most often under the epithet Apollo Spairahemon ("Apollo the Ball-Thrower") as a god of prophecy and sport. His name was typically invoked to celebrate a user blessed with uncommon prescience. Moments of prophecy were considered highly sacred and were often recorded, and such texts are sometimes accompanied by an artistic depiction of the god — either his traditional masculine image or, unusually, in the form of a young woman, which appears to have been an earlier style before a conservative shift toward more conventional iconography — preparing to cast a round rubber ball that our scholars believe was used in the sport known as "dodge ball". Much as other cults regarded his arrows as bringers of disease and health, this community believed that being struck by this ball would bestow prophetic visions.

Some icons are reproduced below:

An earlier depiction (c. 2020) of Apollo as a girl clad in a simple tunic and playing with other children. Figures are smiling and the image is brightly colored, indicating a celebratory outlook toward knowledge of the future.

A later piece (c. 2022) that resembles the traditional appearance of Apollo. References to childhood and play are omitted, and the god carries a more frightening aspect; perhaps this icon represented grim omens rather than good tidings.

[concerningwolves]

the end of sunrise on the reaping made me cry so hard I felt nauseous and I WHOLEHEARTEDLY recommend it

[concerningwolves]

I was driving up to a friend’s for the weekend on Friday and nearly broke down in tears because I saw a billboard on the side of a southern highway. It had the same yellow background with red text that those awful, ubiquitous “Jesus Saves!” billboards have. I nearly missed it.

It said:

“Rejoice! God loves trans kids!”

[concerningwolves]

Can someone explain to me why a multiverse is considered to be a scientific concept

[concerningwolves]

[concerningwolves]

opened that stupid website recently for Employment Reasons™ . took psychic damage. made a sticker instead

[shop] - May 3 (2025) shop update

[concerningwolves]

@mistressdizzy:

Wait WHAT?? They used to have color on the statues??? ….they weren't just gray?

Yeah! And not just any colour – bright colour! For marble statues this was mostly (afaik) paint, although some statues, like Athena Polais at Athens, were dressed in clothes for ritual purposes so I do wonder if textiles were used on other statues too. (Bronze statues could also be coloured: the Charioteer at Delphi had precious stones and metals used to add colour to his lips, teeth, eyelashes, eyes and headband, but the vibrancy of the colours has mostly faded today).

My current study and research is focused on the performance of religion at Classical Greek sites, and as part of that I've been reading a lot about the kore statues discovered at the Athenian Acropolis. Most, if not all, of these statues were originally painted. They were buried in a pit around the fifth century BCE and discovered in the late 1800s, so when they were unearthed, many of them still had traces of pigment on them. There's a bunch of reasons/possible reasons why the paint didn't survive long after their unearthing, mostly boiling down to "the necessary conservation techniques didn't exist yet" and "pigment was so ancient that exposure to sun and air killed it", so only researchers closer to the time got to see the colours then :(

But there's been boatloads of research since, using microscopic and spectographic analysis + analysis of orignal reports on the kore. So we're mostly confident about the kinds of colours used. Here's a resconstruction of the one called the "Peplos kore":

(Image source)

Just look at that! The rosy red lips, the startling red eyes, the patterns on the dress, the auburn hair... It's stunning. (And also maybe a bit garish or unsettling, but I've been looking at so many of these statues that they're growing on me lol). There is some controversy/debate about the prevelance of red found on the kore, especially their eyes and hair. Classical scholar Mary Stieber covers this in her book The Poetics of Appearance in the Attic Korai, noting that red pigments tend to be more robust so it's possible that these survived but were actually a base for other colours, like a realistic brown. I've also seen it suggested that the un-lifelike colours are meant to emphasise the connection between the kore as dedicatory statues and the "supernatural" (i.e., gods and goddesses), but I don't know how accurate that is. I do know though that visual spectacle was really important to the Ancient Greeks, especially in their religious and dedicatory practises, so the boldness of the colours were almost certainly for that purpose at the very least.

I just think it's really neat how these weren't the blank white ideals that modern history has come to see them as, but richly painted and decorated & designed to be as eye-catching as possible. as always, history was way more colourful than most people realise

speaking of the painted colours of classical statues. there is actually something very haunting and melancholic about how we know the ghosts of these colours – and in some cases have an incredibly rich language to describe all the different shades of them – but only a small handful of archaeologists and scholars got to actually see them. the pigments were too fragile, had been subjected to too much, and couldn't stand the sunlight of a modern world thousands of years past their own time. And now the rest of us are left with old sepia/black and white photographs from late 19th century, drawings, and a body of reports that are extensive but never quite extensive enough

[concerningwolves]

i am once again saying that vampires have so much slapstick potential. they should be getting hit by cars and shot for laughs more often

[concerningwolves]

my blog hurts

[concerningwolves]

speaking of the painted colours of classical statues. there is actually something very haunting and melancholic about how we know the ghosts of these colours – and in some cases have an incredibly rich language to describe all the different shades of them – but only a small handful of archaeologists and scholars got to actually see them. the pigments were too fragile, had been subjected to too much, and couldn't stand the sunlight of a modern world thousands of years past their own time. And now the rest of us are left with old sepia/black and white photographs from late 19th century, drawings, and a body of reports that are extensive but never quite extensive enough

[concerningwolves]

People on this website will really mock anti-vaxxers and flat earthers for ignoring scientists and getting their alternative facts from facebook, and then turn around and insist they know more history than historians and more archaeology than archaeologists because they read an unsourced tumblr post once

[concerningwolves]

ssssssnippet ssssssnunday

ya want a bit from book two bc I don't have any non-spoilery book one to share?

tw gore, blood

They knelt down beside a Nat currently masquerading as a dead body someone had just pulled out of a swamp, and placed their hands on either side of his head. They brushed their thumbs lovingly across his cheeks.

"Nathaniel, dear," they said. "My sweet, sweet darling. I am going to die if you don't become awake for at least thirty more seconds, and it will be your fault."

Nat remained unresponsive.

Quinn tsked, and brushed their fingers along the wound in their neck to coat the tips in their blood. They wiggled their fingers in front of Nat's nose, which twitched in the same way it always twitched when he smelled something tasty.

"Mmph," Nat mumbled, not quite past the threshold of consciousness yet.

Quinn wandered their fingers along his lower lip, trying to tempt him awake. Predictably, the sleeping Nat's mouth opened slightly and he gave the blood a few pathetic licks. His brow creased slightly just when he seemed on the brink of consciousness, but he decidedly turned his head the other way and retreated back to sleep.

"Ugh." Nat's face scrunched up unhappily.

"Nat, hon." Quinn grasped his head and forced him to face them. "You gotta de-Garble me. I got got by Alex claws. De-Garble me then you can sleep as long as you want."

"Do you want me to turn into a vampire?" Quinn asked. "You can barely keep me under control as a human. If you wanna deal with Quinn plus super strength and regenerative abilities be my guest."

Nat opened one eye with immense effort. "Fine," he croaked.

"Fine, you'll de-Garble me? Or fine, you're chill with me being a vampire?"

Nat didn't seem to understand the question. He stared blankly at Quinn for a few moments. "I... can't, uh..." He coughed, his voice rasping. "Can you move my hand? Um. Teeth. Prick finger."

Nat's eyes were closed again. "Already got drink," he mumbled, in reference to the pools of Ethel blood and shredded flesh scraps which were, now that Quinn stopped to examine them, creeping ever-so-slowly towards his body.

"Gotcha."

Quinn leaned over to grab Nat's wrist; his arm flopped limp and deadweight like he was a ragdoll. With some effort, they manoeuvred his forefinger to his mouth and pressed it into one of his fangs until it broke skin.

They considered the globule of blood. "You don't wanna use your mouth like usual, though?" they asked. "Sneak a quick drink in? It'll help you not fucking die."

Well, that was fucking unsettling.

"You want a drink that isn't melted five-hundred-year-old undead rotten vampire viscera you're absorbing through your wounds?" Quinn asked, only mildly judgmentally.

"Mmph," Nat said again, irritated. "Hand. Go."

Quinn moved Nat's pricked and bleeding finger against the wound in their neck. The thrumming, throbbing sensation started up almost instantly, the Garble prying itself apart from Quinn's bloodstream and moving towards Nat's touch. Nat's head nodded down a few times during the process, and he fought to stay awake long enough to draw the hivemind out. After a few attempts, he made a muffled noise of confirmation and tugged his hand away. Quinn laid his arm gently back to his side.

Nat whined. "Mouth."

"So you do want a drink," Quinn accused.

They moved Nat's hand back to his lips, allowing him to lick at the blood on his fingers.

"Tasty," he whispered.

"You can have my wrist if you want," Quinn offered.

"Tired," Nat said, his head lolling to the side. He slipped back into unconsciousness.

The Ethel blood continued to creep towards him, playing at his skin, seeping into various cuts and scrapes, into his pricked finger. Feeding him in his sleep.

"You're horrifying." Quinn placed a delighted kiss on top of his forehead. "I love you!"

[concerningwolves]

Hmmmm hm. Okay. Worldbuilding/story idea.

One million years after humanity disappears, octopi and ravens have independently developed sapience. And one day an octopus child and an elder raven meet at the edge of the ocean.

Where is your mother and father? asks the raven. I have no mother or father, says the octopus, blushing pale. All octopi are children. Once we’re grown, we will mate and we will die. It is the first and the last thing our mothers tell us.

But that’s horrible, says the raven. It’s not all bad, says the octopus. We play, we hunt, we make games for ourselves in the deep. Yes, but who remembers your songs? the raven says. Who passes down your stories?

What is a story? the octopus asks.

And the raven thinks about this question. And finally it says: A story is how you remember things in the past. It is how you know where you come from, and what happened before you were born. A story can be a warning, or it can be advice, or it can be a silly joke told to make you feel good. Someone remembers the story and tells it to the next generation, who remember the story and tells it to the generation after them.

And the octopus thinks about this answer. And finally it says: Can you tell me a story?

And the raven tells the octopus a story. And it’s a good story. And the next day the octopus returns and asks for another. The next day it brings its octopus friends, and the raven brings its raven friends, and many stories are shared on the edge of the ocean.

Months later, the octopus returns to the raven. I am grown, it says. I am returning to the sea to find a mate and lay my brood. I will not be coming back. I’m sorry.

I will miss your company, says the raven.

I have one thing to ask you, says the octopus. In time my children will come to the edge of the ocean. I would like you to tell them a story I have made. And when they have stories of their own, I would like your children to remember them and pass them down to my children’s children.

Of course, says the raven. What is your story about?

And the octopus thinks, and says: It is about an octopus child and an elder raven who meet at the edge of the ocean.

And this story has been passed down to this day.

[concerningwolves]

to summarize: you have the moral backbone of a flatworm if your response every time harry potter comes up is to make it about your inability to give up a book