#Source: blood in the water by grandson

[starlightshadowsworld]

Mama's boy rewrite be like...

Mania Jason Grace: to Camp Jupiter Beg me for mercy, admit you were toxic. You poisoned me for another coin in your pocket.

Centurion: Let us go!

Centurion 2: You were the best of us, what have you turned traitor again?!

Jason: Now I am the violence, I am the sickness. Won't accept your silence, beg me for forgiveness.

Jupiter: That's enough Jason.

Jason: twisted grin We'll never get free, lambs to the slaughter. What you gon do when there's blood in the water? The price of your greed, your son and your daughter. What you gon do when there's blood in the water?

Man's been come back from the dead, got all his memories back and decided you know what.. I'm gonna get revenge on everyone who ever wronged me.

Good for him.

I mean it's tearing him apart, the anger, the pain and twisted him into a version of himself no one can recognise and his friends are so worried about him.

.... But good for him.

[ciitedexcerpt]

Beg me for mercy.

[juniorig0327]

Had an idea and had to write it out (based on the idea explained here: https://www.tumblr.com/juniorig0327/760642994531713024/demigods-and-domains?source=share)

Percy spit out about a mouthful of teeth on the ground, clutching his sword. He glanced behind him to see Michael clutching his shoulder and then turned back at the titan Hyperion. Faster than he could blink, Hyperion turned into a ball of light and there was a cut opening up on his side and Hyperion was behind him. 

“I honestly don’t know why step dad is so interested in you. You’re still way too weak.” Hyperion sneered at him, practically fidgeting with his sword and not sparing a second glance. 

“You don’t have any nature spirits to help you, not this time Jackson.”

Percy grit his teeth. Fighting a titan was not on his Tartarus bingo card but it seems a lot of things that happened down here weren't on his bingo card. Frankly, he was getting frustrated. After what he did to Ahkyls, he told himself he wasn’t going to use his powers for things that weren’t natural, but when he looked at Hyperion and the injured Michael Yew behind him, quickly losing blood he knew he had a choice to make. Maybe he did this action out of guilt, out of a desperation to finally save someone, to have a clear conscience (he knew that wasn’t it – another excuse), or maybe he just had enough. Ever since he did what he did his power itched to be let out, it was uncontrollable (acting on its own?– no that doesn’t make sense). 

It’s safe to say when he finally snapped out of his mind and let loose, it was conveniently when Hyperion bursted into a walking fire, only recognizable by his armor and helmet. It’s also safe to say not even Hyperion was able to comprehend what happened when his entire body just… stopped.  

The flames were still and Percy had his arm stretched out but no, this wasn’t blood or water or anything like that. He couldn’t feel the churning in his gut, all he felt was a burning tingling feeling rushing up his arm. 

“What…?” Percy looked at his arm in wonder. He looked up at Hyperion to see he was struggling with… something.

“What did you do, demigod?! You’re a son of Poseidon! What d–”

A sharp echoing laugh boomed throughout Tartarus. A shadowy, dirty looking figure formed from the ground in armor. “Well well well Perseus! I did not expect for your domains to have evolved this quickly. What have you been doing to that poor Phlegethon?” Percy’s head shot behind and as soon as he saw him (it? He didn’t know and he wasn’t in the state of mind to think on that) fear seemed to latch on and fuel every part of his body.

“No need for fear. I just wanted to check your progress, Grandson.”

“‘M not your grandson.” He said with a shaky voice.

“Of course not, but adding all those greats is definitely not convenient, Perseus. I’m proud of you. I didn’t think you’d expand your domain again so quickly. I have to say I am very intrigued. How far do you think you could go? If this is it for just a puny demigod what would happen if it was your precious Annabeth? Or maybe Nico, he was a fine specimen to experiment with for a while but unfortunately he was more of a sad pet. But you–” Percy imagined if Tartarus had eyes they’d be looking him up and down right now. He let out an audible gulp. His fear quickly switched to rage after his brain caught up with what he(it? whatever) said. He was talking about Nico like he was some sort of pet, like a human experiment. And not to mention him threatening Annabeth? The fear in his gut was replaced by a flare of rage.

“Have all this darkness within you. Perseus – to destroy – fitting is it not? Such raging darkness in a son of Poseidon is…unusual. I want to see what you can become.” Tartarus raised its hand(?), “Come Hyperion, let him be won’t you? After all the work he’s put in, I wouldn't want his reunion with his friend to be cut so short, at least for now.” Percy looked back at Michael and rushed towards him, ripping the sleeve of his shirt to try and help him. “You can sink your teeth into him later,” Hyperion only let out a grunt but by the way he felt a gaze into the core of his soul, he had a feeling Tartarus was talking to him “You bleed red with traces of gold in them Grandson. I wonder what awaits. Will you bleed gold ichor, or vanish in a blaze of golden dust?”

The implication sent shivers up his shine. Honestly, that explained a lot. Michael never explained why he had dark fingertips and unusual sharp nails. As Tartarus and Hyperion left like they were never there, Percy picked up Michael and started heading towards the Phlegethon. He had to get out of his place and back up to the seven and Annabeth ASAP. Percy already felt like a monster for all the people that died for him, for leading them to their deaths, for leaving Annabeth all alone (Just like Luke the voice deep within his head reminds him) he wasn’t interested in becoming a literal one too, no fucking way.

[ballcrusher74]

Your sona (bigform) looks very cool, reminds me of the silhouette of a dinosaur, what is the critter and what inspired such a cool mech tang?

OK. RAMBLE TIME

My sona (Jawbreaker) is a fucked up star alien thing ! You're gonna get a little more than just what he is and inspirations and I hope you don't mind, I made a whole fucking species just for this guy's backstory LOL Stellarites are shapeshifting, celestial beings created with star energy. Their strength varies, depending on what kind of star their energy was sourced from. Jawbreaker (his actually birth name is unknown and he forgot himself) was created with the energy of a quasi star as an experiment for his overlord, Metsu. He served in their celestial empire as a royal guard, and had a close eye kept on him. He excelled compared to his peers, and was deemed spectacular at his work- the only downside was his short temper. He was constantly consulted about his attitude, and it only seemed to grow worse. He grows disobedient, to the point where he is sentenced to be shattered for his resources to be recycled. He escapes from his home planet, landing on Earth. He examines life from afar, and takes on a more humanoid form. As he lives out his days on his new home, there's something that he can't avoid now- taxes. So what's a better job to get when you used to be a guard for an intergalactic ruler? Become a hitman! This is where he obtained his helmet and his name. A couple years go by and he's considered a perfect killing machine, being able to leave such little trails behind in his work. Then, he fucks up one day. A single drop of his blood is found at a scene. This results in a huge chase for him, especially because he is extraterrestrial life. He eventually is caught, and used in government experiments. These experiments were based off the mega-structure, dyson spheres, in which they tried to extract energy out of him. He manages to escape this, takes on his current form with a repainted helmet and fresh new look, and is now a party-animal alien out on the run with a bounty on his head. (This is like, a really watered down version of his story cus if I put the whole thing here that shit would go on forever)

Also y'know what, fuck it, here's the full ref sheet + cool guitar item that I keep forgetting I have OOPS

Going onto actually inspirations now, here's a couple !

The general design was just based off of character design aspects that I like a lot. Chunky shoes, shoulder pads, big sleeves, huge zipper- etc, etc.

The hoodie and boxers combo just comes from the fact that that is typically what I roam around in

The star eye was me trying to recycle from my old sona, but the true origin of it was it being a reference to one of my favorite musicians at the time, Grandson ^_^

The half heart locket is for my boyfriend <3

The big ol' eyebrow is just cus I have bushy eyebrows + I love big ass eyebrows

I'm gonna be honest, the hair was when I was trying to make my sona on Roblox but I obviously couldn't have my helmet, so a red base and cyan trihawk came along and it's stuck since then + I FUCKING LOVE MOHAWKS SO BAD

The blood is based off of glowstick liquid . Please trust me when I say to not eat glowsticks they do not taste good .

The colors are also kinda recycled from my old sona, but also because I fucking love red and cyan

The whole alien aspect is taken from the fact my birthday is on the same day as the Area 51 raid LMAO

Exaggerated proportions kinda came from FNF . yeag

THE HELMET . The helmet was a thing I scrapped from a really old oc of mine, which was kinda taken from Jasper (SU) . The addition for the jaw part was inspired by a bear trap

also these two that I use for this blog . They're obviously more jokey looking + I made it so they are both immortal beings that have existed since the dawn of time that just fuck around on Earth but yea it's also just me . but funny looking

I think that is it . yeag

[egg-emperor]

New lore was dropped by Iizuka at a fan Q+A apparently. Interestingly, it's been revealed that Eggman is below the age of 50, that he never personally knew Gerald and Maria, his father was one of Gerald's two sons and that he is younger than Maria.

I find all of this fascinating.

You scared me LMFAO my heart stopped and blood ran cold for a sec but before I could go through all the stages of grief I was like hold on lemme see that source and found that isn't the case phew. If it was final that he was so young in his 40s I'd be devastated lol. Not just because I wouldn't want to believe it but also all the evidence suggests otherwise.

They considered putting him at 60 in the Sonic CD concept art, he's referred to as old and middle-aged, uses the Washi pronoun in JP, is associated with the Respect for the Aged Day in Japan where senior citizens are apparently 65+. Most recently we have the Egg Memo where Eggman specifies that he "never really knew" Maria, so he had to exist for at least some time when she was alive to feel the need to specify that.

Also, while a bit more speculative, it'd make sense if part of the reason he was so upset about how Gerald's plan to destroy the planet would've resulted in his death too is because he existed at the time even if he was very young, and Gerald would've known he had a grandson despite not meeting him and didn't consider or care for it to stop him. And that hit hard with him being his grandfather and idol he admired so much. I feel it'd kinda water down the impact and weight of it if it was like "He didn't consider that he could've potentially killed his grandson, even though I didn't exist yet." :P

But yeah it wouldn't make sense for him to be so young in his 40s, there's way too much emphasis on him being old and that would be way too young for it. Plus with the memo being solid canon on top of all the hints, it still doesn't make sense if you disregard the rest of the logic. So I was like no this can't be!!!

Then I saw the source to see that Iizuka apparently didn't actually say Eggman "yes, Eggman is 100% under 50" and I'm so relieved lol.

I just wanna break it down so I have something to link to people if this ever comes up in the future:

It was specifically the OP saying Eggman was literally "under 50", as if it was said to be 100% certain and confirmed final fact

But when they quote Iizuka directly, it turns out he apparently said: "His age hasn't been disclosed but he's probably under 50."

I knew they weren't gonna suddenly reveal his solid age now after all his time of it being unknown in all his bios, only heavily hinted at and implied with the examples listed above. If they're finally gonna go all out and finalize a specific age, it's definitely not gonna be at a Q&A.

Iizuka still saying it "is not disclosed" and the use of "probably" doesn't count as confirmation at all. He's just basing an estimate on the logic that if he didn't know Maria and Gerald then he might not have existed at the same time as them at all but all the evidence seems to show otherwise. Either way, it still "is not disclosed." So it's all just probable estimates.

So yeah at first my heart was like *glass shatter sfx* 💔 then I read the actual thread and I was like oh wait nevermind lol ❤️‍🩹 Here's the link to it btw

--------------------

Anyway now that we've got that out of the way, let's talk about the other stuff.

It was always obvious that Eggman never knew Gerald personally. He never speaks of direct anecdotes or personal experiences. Hell, he doesn't even know about the ARK before SA2. So of course the same goes for Maria, that was clear before it was confirmed in the Egg Memo.

As for Maria being older than Eggman, I never decided on whether I thought so or not because there wasn't ever anything to actually suggest it. But sure, that can make sense. She can be older than him without it meaning that he didn't exist at any point while she was still alive.

But I'm still definitely under the impression that he did exist for at least some time when she was alive, even if he was very young. He had to be. He specifically emphasizes that he "never really knew" Maria in the Egg Memo. Why would he need to if he never even existed when she was alive? It would've been obvious.

So I feel it implies he didn't *really* know her because while he was alive at the same time even if just a little, he didn't meet her in person and only learned of her through how others talked of her.

Then him mentioning that she was "gone" immediately after is just him then jumping to the part after her death, where he started learning about her more because she became the big subject after her tragic death and then of course he became jealous.

This also adds up with Iizuka saying Eggman didn't learn all this information about Maria until after her death

Here's what I'm thinking. He existed the same time as her even if he was very young but he didn't meet her obviously because she was on the ARK all her life wondering what it was like on Earth and Eggman didn't even know about the ARK until SA2. Then she became the hot topic after her tragic death so Eggman got so somewhat "know" her through their word but still didn't "really" know her because they didn't literally meet. Makes sense!

And lastly, if it's true that he said Eggman's father is Gerald's son then I'm so happy about that, since it's always been my headcanon that he was the paternal grandfather! :D

So yeah this was really just Iizuka saying what me and others have been saying already as far as him not knowing Gerald and Maria personally. Then also him making an unconfirmed non solid estimate of his age with the "probably" but the games and Sonic Channel suggests he has to be 50 AT LEAST. Seems to be over it actually, since he had to be alive some time before the ARK raid/the same time as Maria, even if just for a little while.

[roseunspindle]

Percy’s Half Siblings

ATriton - Son of Amphitrite and Poseidon - Poseidon’s messenger and herald

Benthesikyme - “Wave of the Deep” or “Lady of the deep swells” - Goddess of waves - Daughter of Amphitrite and Poseidon

Rhode - goddess and personification of the island of Rhodes. Wife of Helios.  Daughter of Amphitrite and Poseidon

Antaeus - Son of Poseidon and Gaea - Half Giant

(Heracles killing Antaeus)

Charybdis - daughter of Poseidon and Gaea (in some sources) she was a loyal child to Poseidon but since she kept covering land with water for him Zeus got mad and chained her to the sea floor, cursing her and turning her into a “bladder” and made her thirsty for seawater, which when she drank it, caused whirlpools. 

https://www.deviantart.com/c00lfr0g/art/Charybdis-388499917

Laestrygon - Son of Poseidon and Gaea, father of  Telepora (wife of Aeolus) possible parent/creator of the Laitsrygonians. 

Despoina - Daughter of Poseidon and Demeter - Goddess of Arcadian Mysteries/Veiled - born when poseidon went after demeter when both were horses.

Arion - Supernatural Horse (not sure if he’s a deity or just immortal creature) - Son of Demeter and Poseidon  born when poseidon went after demeter when both were horses.

Pegasus - immortal winged-horse, Son of Poseidon and Medusa (or just sprang from Medusa’s blood when Perseus beheaded her)

Chrysaor - Son of Poseidon and Medusa - "he who has a golden sword" - might be the father of Echidna

Herophile -Sea-nymph,  Daughter of Poseidon and Aphrodite, possibly a Delphic Sybil

Ergiscus - son of Poseidon and Aba (a naiad), the city of Ergisce in Istanbul was named after him. 

Aethusa - Daughter of Poseidon and Alcyone (a pleiad) - caught Apollo’s eye and had two kids with him Eleuther and Linus- ancestor of Orpheus.

Hyrieus - Son of Poseidon and Alcyone (a pleiad) - possible father of Orion, most account call him a king of various places. (Boeotia, Thrace or Chios)

Hyperenor - son of Poseidon and Alcyone

Hyperes - son of Poseidon and the Pleiad Alcyone He was the father of Arethusa, mother of Abas by Poseidon. Founded the city of Hyperea.

Anthas - Son of Poseidon and Alcyone, founder of Anthea

Abas - son of Poseidon and Arethusa (yes his own granddaughter).  Abas founded a tribe known as the Abantians or Abantes. He reigned over them as king. Possibly killed by his own grandson. 

Halirrhothius - Son of Poseidon and Euryte or Bathycleia. He was killed by Ares for raping his daughter Alcippe. 

Chrysomallos - Son of  Bisalpis or Bisaltis or Theophane - Golden winged ram, rescued some people, was them sacrificed to Zeus and skinned. 

Minyas - Son of Poseidon and somebody (there was a very long list of potential moms) a city founder. 

Lycus - son of Poseidon and Celaeno, one of the Pleiades. Together with his brother Eurypylus, they ruled over the Isles of the Fortunate which their father blessed.

Nycteus - (possibly a son of Poseidon and Somebody) - King of Thebes

Eurypylus - Son of Poseidon and Celaeno, either ruled over the isles of the blessed with lycus or was a king of cyrene

Asopus - possibly a son of Poseidon, a river deity

Parnassus - unkown

Eumolpus - possibly a son of Poseidon and Chione - King of Thrace

Phaeax - Son of Poseidon and Korkrya - from whom the Phaeacians derived their name.

Eirene - daughter of Poseidon and  Melantheia - gave her name to an island.

Amykos - Son of Poseidon and Melia - a king who would force people to box with them so he could kill them. Challenged the best of the Argonauts Polydueces, who killed him with a blow on the elbow. 

Mygdon - Son of Poseidon and Melia, also a king, killed by Heracles on his way to his ninth labour. 

Aspledon, a son of Poseidon and the nymph Mideia, a city in Boetia was named after him. 

Astacus - son of Poseidon and the nymph Olbia, eponymous founder of Astacus, Bithynia.

Leches  - son of Peirene and Poseidon, who was abducted by Poseidon. (squinty eyes at you mr. no-consent)

Evadne - daughter of Poseidon and Pitane who was raised by Aepytus of Arcadia. She fell in love with Apollo and of course got pregnant, the pregnancy was discovered by Aepytus, he was furious and left to consult the Oracle of Apollo. During the childbirth, Apollo sent Eileithyia and the Moirae to assist his lover and ease her pain. Evadne gave birth in the wilderness and left the child, Iamus, exposed to the elements. Five days later, Aepytus returned from the Delphi, where he had been told by Apollo's Oracle that Evadne's child was indeed the son of Apollo and destined to be a gifted prophet. He demanded that the child be brought to him, and so Evadne retrieved Iamus from the patch of violets where she had left him. Iamus had been nurtured for those five days by the honeybees that were sent by Apollo, or by the Fates. Evadne named the child Iamus (“Boy of the Violets”) He went on to found the Iamidae, a family of priests from Olympia.

Phocus - son of Poseidon and Pronoe

[ne-spivay-ranenko]

Jukebox January: Day 2

the original post tag of all my posts

Today is songs starting with B, and this happens to include a few of my all time favorites! It's always hard to say if any one song is my favorite, because many songs mean a lot to me for many reasons, but some of them stick with me forever.

Bliss - Muse

This song is the musical manifestation of the aching feeling of seeing someone else being happy and wishing and wanting so, so much to have a little bit of the peace and joy in their mind. This is why it's one of my favorites. I always think it's so powerful because it's not wishing ill on whoever is so happy--he's singing "everything about you is so easy to love", it's just that wish to understand it, to search for that light and warmth. This song has such lovely contrasts music-wise too, the synth arpeggios with the scratches in the guitar riff, the minor key verses to major key chorus, it all adds to this feeling of both joy and painful longing at the same time.

Butterflies and Hurricanes - Muse

Yeah, today you get 2 Muse songs for the price of one. I can't help it! This one's also important because it's the inspiration for the first tattoo I ever got. The song's title is a reference to the butterfly effect ("the idea that a butterfly's wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that may ultimately alter the path of a tornado") and for me, it reminds me that small things can mean a lot. The tattoo itself is just a butterfly with some cool geometric patterns, but the meaning is for me!

Blinding - Florence + the Machine

I adore the whole vibe of this song, it reflects perfectly the feeling of "waking up" to the truth of something, of having your illusions about someone shattered, and the mix of both grief and freedom that comes with that. Makes me feel a lot at once in a beautiful way.

Barve oceana - Joker Out

Of all Joker Out songs, this is the one most meaningful to me personally. (To nobody's surprise, if they've ever clicked on my blog and seen the title!) When I say it's changed my life, I mean it. The line "Kdo zdej poje tiste pesmi ki je včasih pela jih?" feels like it was written specifically to remind me that I need to make music again. The whole song about someone finding herself in a faraway place, it's everything to me, it's me and my dreams and it tells me that I have to find that place for myself. Also, the bassline is so damn good...

Buen día Benito - El Cuarteto de Nos

El Cuarteto de Nos is a Uruguayan rock band which I discovered when participating in a Eurovision fan contest, actually, and I'm so glad I did because they're amazing. (Oh, and they've been around since 1984, so they have a huge back catalog!) This particular song is a favorite of mine because of the intensity of it: it's about a guy confronting his childhood bully in search of justice, and reveals more and more painful history as it goes on. It's worth looking up the lyrics to understand it if you don't speak Spanish (or if you're like me and only speak Spanish badly).

Four more below the cut so this doesn't get too long on people's dashes:

Boum Boum Boum - MIKA

Sometimes you just need a fun French song about banging your lover everywhere and shocking the bourgeoisie. That's all. The line, "s'aimer comme ça, c'est pas vulgaire" is always a good reminder, too.

Blood // Water - grandson

I love the genre mixing that grandson has in his music, plus the lyrics about corruption and greed are, unfortunately, always relevant. This one also was a big inspiration for an OC of mine, whose family's greed was the source of him being cursed, so I listened to it a lot when coming up with him.

Black Leather - KEiiNO and Charlotte Qamaniq

I love KEiiNO. I don't think I mention it enough on this blog because they don't really pop up in posts to reblog, so let me mention it now: I love KEiiNO. This song never fails to make me feel better about myself with the line "fashion your shame into a sight".

Bet Maijpuķītēm Jāpaliek - Tumsa

Every note of this song seems to be infused with beautiful melancholy. When I listen all I can feel is like I'm looking into memories through a haze, a pretty haze, but it's still memories, and I'm wishing to touch them again. Opens with the lines "Viņas sapņi ir par to/Tālu zemi, mīļoto", and considering what I said about Barve oceana above, there's definitely a pattern here...

[headmates-for-you]

Akutagawa from bsd with the special temp plz?

One Akutagawa for you!

Info

Name(s): Ryunoske

Nickname(s): Ryu, Akutagawa, Aki

Last Name(s): Akutagawa

Age(s): 20

Pronouns: he/him

Height: 5’8

Zodiac: Pisces 

Source(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

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Labels

Gender(s): cismale

Orientation(s): aromantic, cupiosexual bi

TransID(s): transvampire, transgothic, transreality, transwhitehair, transworshiper, transfollower, transabused, transADHD, transautism, transnoeyebrows, transemotionless

CisID(s): mafioso, older brother, powers, black hair, permasick, permatired, low empathy

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Misc. Information

Paras: hybristophilia, autoaptophilia, traumaphilia

Positive Trigger(s): Dazai, tea

Other Trigger(s): verbal altercations

Role(s): fictive, protector, filekeeper

Typing quirk: perfect grammar, short messages

Emoji Signoff: 😷🩸

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Extra

Playlist (5-10 songs listed)

Can You Feel My Heart - Bring Me The Horizon

Blood//Water - Grandson

Body - Mother Mother

Doomed - Bring Me The Horizon

Twisted - MISSIO

Faceclaim

Aesthetic

[melodiaemfrp]

hi, its aqua on 10/31. im dropping bede (lemon demon - everybody likes you, flat 11), himeru (grandson - blood // water, pavillion 10), and riku (sohta - ikanaide, studio 4). you can contact me at shuiven on here or twt, or by hitting emberlyn with a rock with my name on it. thank you.

hiya aqua!

please don’t hit me a rock- all your guys have been dropped for you. gives riku in particular a little forehead smooch. please remember to include media sources next time!

~ SCRIBE DIMINUENDO

[marimo-o]

ok so im making a long ass post about Abzu (the game) within the context of mesopotamian mythology because I'm insane. It's gonna be a doozy and likely incomprehensible so <3 below the cut it goes! There's gonna be TONS of spoilers for the game, and, like, I guess for the mesopotamian creation epic, so. Play Abzu if you haven't and if you wanna read the Enuma Elish that's also cool. Good for u

(a note from afterwards: it's long. like, REALLY fucking long, holy shit. if you actually want to read the whole thing, be. prepared or something idk take breaks! the last two paragraphs (i know they're walls of text pls bear with me) contain most of the important information. like, the final hurrah of my brain after working on this for multiple hours! So if u wanna save time and avoid some of the redundancy, just skip to those last two <3)

So "Abzu" referred to two things; the fresh water people got from underground aquifers (also as the void-sea which was underneath the Sumerian underworld, Kur), and the deity; he only appeared in the creation story, Enuma Elish, because a big part of that whole thing was that oh no! He dies! And that's also a thing I'm gonna touch on (sorry about the lack of accent marks in advance, it's not available on my current keyboard^ ^;)

I'm gonna start off with a brief tale of what happened with Abzu the deity, and then move onto how both the deity and the concept relate to the game!

So like I mentioned, Abzu the deity only really appears in the creation myth. The story goes that the Primordial Soup divided into two beings, with Abzu representing the freshwater and Tiamat being the saltwater. They were married, and together birthed some of the first formative gods! Some of these gods, jealous of Abzu's power convinced Tiamat to kill him (or, I thought it was started by Tiamat growing resentful of the younger gods, one of those). Either way, Abzu was killed, and Tiamat ended up lashing out, creating the first "dragons", or perhaps becoming one herself; with "poison instead of blood". She is killed by Marduk, the god of storms and the child of Enki (one of the first gods created by Abzu and Tiamat), and from her body the heavens and the earth are formed. Imagine getting killed by ur grandson lol cringe /j

Now! The waters itself! This also brings Enki into the equation, who kinda took over as god of the waters in place of his dead father. He's also the god of creation, intelligence, crafts, mischief, and more! Very important guy.

Abzu refers to both the groundwater reservoirs that people depended on for both accessible clean water and for some agricultural work, and also to the void-sea beneath the underworld, where it is said that Enki rests. He had a temple at Eridu, a now-ruined city, and I remember hearing somewhere that he lived in a temple in an underground aquifer? But I can't find wherever I read that anymore so don't take my word for it. Anyway, the basics of Enki as a deity is: child of Tiamat and Abzu, widely worshipped in his time, god of the waters, generally a cool and important dude.

And now. Finally. We move onto the game. My head hurts.

So, for a quick (post-writing: lol it's not quick) overview of the game; you play as a funny little diver, who woke up in the middle of the ocean and, as the player, are given no clues as to who or what you are. You explore through the ocean levels peacefully at first, and with the guidance of a scarred shark (painted as a bit of an antagonist at first with the audio cues) you make your way to wells at the bottom-center of each level that revitalize the space around them; as they progress, many levels start out as barren, empty landscapes that give you a foreboding, nervous feeling going in, before using an energy from yourself to rekindle the life. Huge coral growths, seaweed, and a myriad of ocean animals spring to life. The player character can also ride on the sides of the bigger ones! The game also puts a big stress on unity between yourself and the environment; there's not a whole lot you can physically interact with, but you can play with the animals there and, like I said before, ride on some of the larger animals. There are also "meditation spots", statues where you can sit and explore the wildlife from more of their point of view, able to follow them seamlessly and see what the different kinds of fish and such are called. It's a calming experience, and really the most interaction you get with some of the more timid animals, letting you still see them up close even if you can't get there as the player character.

The story of the game is told via writings on the walls, which you can light up and access by solving small puzzles regarding connecting reservoirs of glowing waters, similar to that of the almost cosmic area you go to between levels; one thing I read described it as a kind of "rebirth area", which I can definitely see hehe!

At the end of the game, you've held the shark in its dying moments, you've discovered a strange factory that builds the weird triangular prisms that deliver anything that touches them a shock, the little flashlight dudes that you've found over the levels, and little divers that uncannily resemble yourself, and you've seen yourself disassembled to your funny little mechanical skeleton, weak and slow as you try to walk on land, before you are rebirthed from the void-cosmic-water area once again, fully yourself. There's a wonderful ending sequence where you swim through all these rivers, bringing life with you as you go, with the shark once again by your side. The whole game, you saw no land when you poked your head above water, just miles and miles of water, but you've travelled far enough to reach a reservoir. You cut the chains to a central triangular prism, and it grows over with moss. It gives me goosebumps just thinking about it, really, it feels like such a... grand gesture as you play through it. It feels personal.

Okay. Theory time. Finally, we're getting into the meat of it. Fucking hell.

So, imagine that you are this being. You're wandering an oceanic wonderland, observing and caring for what you need to, doing as any good little diver should. After a bit of poking around, you discover the start of the engravings on the walls; they tell the story of the people that were here before you, who built these temples and halls and used, or at least stored, the strange blue glowing "water" that you connect and move. It's a water of life, of sorts, one that they truly valued. You come to an impasse between areas, and this massive, scarred-up shark cuts in front of you. You're gonna stay hidden, that thing is terrifying! You try not to move. It doesn't spot you, or at least doesn't move to attack you. However, once it's safely out of view, you do follow it, and it leads you to a dark, desolate, empty chamber. This is wrong, you think to yourself. This isn't how it should be. There's a well, towards the bottom, and you approach it, taking... a fragment of light, from your chest, and imbuing that spark of life into the well. And, lo and behold, that intuition proved helpful, because the world around you springs back to life. Congratulations! You did it! And you continue to, as you work past puzzles and challenges and the appearance of these strange triangular mechanisms, that shock you when you get too close. These people worshipped a shark, as well, likely the same as the one you saw; the guide, now old and scarred, that brings you to where that spark is needed. Even later in the game, you see depictions of the triangular mechanisms, at first heralded as a positive, before these things are found to be the reason for this society's collapse. As if that wasn't perplexing enough, you see a depiction of a being that appears suspiciously similar to yourself, once again treated with reverence from the past civilization. In their hand is a ball of light, similar to the one shown when you revitalize the oceanic chambers. Well, that's certainly odd, you think to yourself. Perhaps this was a being that postponed the death of the civilization, or first allowed for those small chambers of life to exist in captivity instead of the open, natural landscapes you explored at the start. Regardless, it's now a relic of something long gone; but it still gives you something to think about. Later on, that strange coincidence of your similarities to that person are explained; you find a manufacturing plant, full of the vicious triangular mechanisms in each tight hallway, and right at the center of it all... multiple iterations of yourself, running down an assembly line, a spark not unlike what you saw before imbued into each of them. My, look at that; you've been responsible for part of this destruction all along, haven't you? Borne from that same ill that has been forcibly removing that spark from each of the places you've gone to. A bit inconsiderate of you, no? And yet... look at all the good you've done. You've rebirthed, revitalized, purified these ocean fragments, is that not enough? You are the keeper of these waters, regardless of the evil you had come from, despite the terrifying empty things may have reverted to. You, who trusted and followed the shark that seemed so scary at first. You, who followed it as it tried to attack a source of the evil, of the thing that was draining the oceans of their life. You, who held and comforted that shark as it lay dying, despite any fear you may have had. You, who attempted to traverse a minefield of those triangular machines, shocked over and over again and at the final moment, unable to make it to the finish line. You, who was rebirthed in full regardless by the oceans you'd cared for, by the void-sea you always returned to, to rest. You, who traversed a now-ruined citadel, temple, all of which had been flooded and had been dedicated to you. You, who brought life with you.

I hope you see what I'm getting at here. You're serving as a figure not unlike Enki, god and guardian of the waters. In the wake of Abzu, the avatar of the fresh waters, now confined to irrigation canals so as not to kill the younger gods, Tiamat lashes out. Her husband is dead, as far as she is concerned, and she goes to those younger gods to seek her revenge. The dragon, that which sucked the life from the seas and poisoned the waters. That which Marduk killed, to carve new life from. I would say that the shark is Marduk, even; given how the shark is the only one who is openly on the offense to those mechanisms, and who comes in at the endgame to finish them off, bringing new life with it. Even in how it all shapes up with the civilization before, in connection to the constructs; Tiamat was the mother of all in existence at that time. She was surely loved; but she turned hostile and violent. She could no longer be safely loved. And Abzu, both the glowing water we use to open doors and the light that we hold and the deep void-sea we enter between levels and father to all in existence, he was confined to small canals and reservoirs and put in a deep sleep so that he would not kill his own children. And by you, no less. Enki put him there. That is why you can use that water from the start; you lived in the Abzu, you came from it, and each time, that is where you return. That temple, now submerged and decrepit, is Eridu; the place where Enki was most worshipped. The other diver clones are the other gods, or perhaps the "dragons", now, that Tiamat had mothered. The smaller prisms definitely count in that "dragon" category; purely harmful beings that seek to destroy life. And in the end, indeed, you restore life; you and your son, upon killing Tiamat, return life to the world from her body. Perhaps you could not save those who once worshipped you, perhaps those structures will forever be in ruin. But there is no more danger, now; there is space to build and replenish. There is space to grow.

Fuck ok that was long as hell. Hi if u made it this far i love u. god fucking damn im never writing anything again after this. it took about as long as a full playthrough of the game, coincidentally!!

[ciitedexcerpt]

Beg me for forgiveness.

[kuramirocket]

On July 10, 1520, Aztec forces vanquished the Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés and his men, driving them from Tenochtitlan, capital of the Aztec empire. The Spanish soldiers were wounded and killed as they fled, trying in vain to drag stolen gold and jewels with them.

By September, an unexpected ally of the would-be conquerors had reached the city: the variola virus, which causes smallpox.

How the Aztecs responded to this threat would prove critical.

The Aztecs were no strangers to plagues. Among the speeches recorded in their rhetoric and moral philosophy, we find a warning to new kings concerning their divinely ordained role in the event of contagion:

Sickness will arrive during your time. How will it be when the city becomes, is made, a place of desolation? Just how will it be when everything lies in darkness, despair? You will also go rushing to your death right then and there. In an instant, you will be over.

Facing a plague, it was vital that the king respond with grace. They warned:

Do not be a fool. Do not rush your words, do not interrupt or confuse people. Instead find, grasp, arrive at the truth. Make no one weep. Cause no sadness. Injure no one. Do not show rage or frighten folks. Do not create a scandal or speak with vanity. Do not ridicule. For vain words and mockery are no longer your office. Never, of your own will, make yourself less, diminished. Bring no scorn upon the nation, its leadership, the government.

Retract your teeth and claws. Gladden your people. Unite them, humor them, please them. Make your nation happy. Help each find their proper place. That way you’ll be esteemed, renowned. And when our Lord extinguishes you, the old ones will weep and sigh.

If a king did not follow this advice, if his rule caused more suffering than it abated, then the people prayed to Tezcatlipoca for any number of consequences, including his death:

May he be made an example of. Let him receive some reprimand, whatever you choose. Perhaps punishment. Disease. Perhaps you’ll let your honor and glory fall to another of your friends, those who weep in sorrow now. For they do exist. They live. You have no want of friends. They are sighing before you, humble. Choose one of them.

Perhaps he [the bad ruler] will experience what the common folk do: suffering, anguish, lack of food and clothing. And perhaps you will give him the greatest punishments: paralysis, blindness, rotting infection.

Or will he instead soon depart this world? Will you bring about his death? Will he get to know our future home, the place with no exits, no smoke holes? Maybe he will meet the Lord of Death, Mictlanteuctli, mother and father of us all.

Clearly, the Aztecs took the responsibilities of leadership very seriously. Beyond uplifting morale, a king’s principal duty in times of contagion was deploying his subjects to “their proper place” so that the kingdom could continue to function. This included mobilizing the titicih, doctor-healers with vast herbal knowledge, most of them women pledged to the primal mother goddess Teteoh Innan.

What about the rest of the people? As with our own modern call for “thoughts and prayers,” the Aztecs believed their principal collective tool for fending off epidemics was a humble appeal to Tezcatlipoca. The very first speech of their text of rhetoric and moral philosophy was a supplication to destroy plague. After admitting how much they might deserve this scourge and recognizing the divine right of Tezcatlipoca to punish them however he sees fit, the desperate Aztecs tried to get their powerful god to consider the worst-case outcome of his vengeance:

O Master, how in truth can your heart desire this? How can you wish it? Have you abandoned your subjects? Is this all? Is this how it is now? Will the common folk just go away, be destroyed? Will the governed perish? Will emptiness and darkness prevail? Will your cities become choked with trees and vines, filled with fallen stones? Will the pyramids in your sacred places crumble to the ground?

Will your anger never be reversed? Will you look no more upon the common folk? For—ah!—this plague is destroying them! Darkness has fallen! Let this be enough. Stop amusing yourself, O Master, O Lord. Let the earth be at rest! I fall before you. I throw myself before you, casting myself into the place from which no one rises, the place of terror and fear, crying out: O Master, perform your office … do your job!

Smallpox arrived in Mesoamerica with a second wave of Spaniards who joined forces with Cortés. According to one account, they had with them an enslaved African man known as Francisco Eguía, who was suffering from smallpox. He, like many others on the continent of his birth, had no immunity to the disease carried there by the slave traders.

Eguía died in the care of Totonac people near Veracruz, the port city established by the Spanish some 250 miles east of the Aztec capital. His caretakers became infected. Smallpox spreads easily: not only blood and saliva, but also skin-to-skin contact (handshakes, hugs) and airborne respiratory droplets. It raced through a population with no herd immunity at all: along the coast, over the mountains, across the waters of Lake Texcoco, into the very heart of the populous empire.

The epidemic lasted 70 days in the city of Tenochtitlan. It killed 40 percent of the inhabitants, including the emperor, Cuitlahuac. Had he found it increasingly difficult to keep his people’s spirits up as tradition commanded? Had his leadership faltered? Did his subjects pray for his death?

Whatever the case, the memory of that devastation would echo for centuries. Some Nahuas—mostly the sons and grandsons of Aztec nobility—described the devastation decades after the conquest.

Their account harrows the soul:

It started during Tepeilhuitl [the 13th month of the solar calendar], when a vast human devastation spread over everyone. Some were covered in pustules, which spread everywhere, on people’s faces, heads, chests, etc. There was great loss of life; many people died of it.

They could not walk anymore. They just lay in bed in their homes. They could not move anymore, could not shift themselves, could not sit up or stretch out on their sides. They could not lay flat on their backs or even face down. If they even stirred, they screamed out in pain.

Many died of hunger, too. They starved because no one was left to care for the others; no one could attend to anyone else. On some people, the pustules were few and far between. They caused little discomfort, and those folks did not die. Still others had their faces marred.

By Panquetzaliztli [the 15th month of the solar year], it began to fade. At that time the brave warriors of the Mexica managed to recover.

But a hard lesson had been learned. None of the old remedies had worked. Entire families were gone. Funeral pyres effaced the sun.

The epidemic was only the beginning of the unexpected forces working in tandem to bring down the Aztec empire. On May 22, 1521—just as Tenochtitlan was beginning to recover, trying to rebuild trade routes, restock its supplies, replant its fields and aquatic chinampa gardens—Cortés returned.

This time he commanded more Spanish troops, men from the same second wave that had brought the smallpox. With them marched tens of thousands of Tlaxcaltecah warriors, the sworn enemies of the Aztecs. Smallpox had reached Tlaxcallan first, but its people—not as densely packed in urban areas like the Mexica—had fared better and were now ready to finish off their rivals.

The massive military force laid siege to the Aztec capital. Even with more than half the population dead or disabled, with little food or water or supplies, the Mexica held the city for three months.

Then, on August 13, 1521, it fell. Emptiness and darkness indeed prevailed.

Lines from a song composed by an unknown Mexica not long afterward sums up the emotions of the survivors:

It is our God who brings down

His wrath, His awesome might

upon our heads.

So friends, weep at the realization—

we abandon the Mexica Way.

Now the water is bitter,

the food is bitter: that

is what the Giver of Life

has wrought.

Without the smallpox, it’s much less likely Cortés and his allies could have taken Tenochtitlan. 

The plague—cocoliztli—was the most devastating post-conquest epidemic in large parts of Mexico, wiping out somewhere around 80 percent of the native population.

“Somewhere around” because population estimates are difficult to come by, with extrapolations made from incomplete colonial sources that date back to precolonial times. For the ethnohistorian Charles Gibson, there is no “sure method for determining whether the later [colonial era] counts were more accurate or less accurate than the earlier ones,” so that “the magnitude of the unrecorded population seems unrecoverable.”

Nevertheless, Gibson’s best estimate is a population of 1,500,000 inhabitants of the Valley of Mexico at the time of first contact with Europeans. There was a sharp fall of about 325,000 by 1570; a drastic fall to about 70,000 by the mid-seventeenth century; followed by slow growth to about 275,000 by 1800. Gibson’s figures are simply staggering. They give us a rough impression, but tell us little about the suffering and massive social upheaval caused by these catastrophes.

Slavery, forced labor, wars, and large-scale resettlements all worked together to make indigenous communities more vulnerable to disease.

According to the “Virgin Soil” theory, the epidemics were so desctructive because “the populations at risk have had no previous contact with the diseases that strike them and are therefore immunologically… defenceless,” as the psychiatrist David Jones writes in the William & Mary Quarterly. The theory is still widespread, often devolving into vague claims that indigenous people had “no immunity” to the new epidemics. By now we know that the lack of immunity played a role, but mostly early on. Current research instead emphasizes an interplay of influences, for the most part triggered by Europeans: slavery, forced labor, wars, and large-scale resettlements all worked together to make indigenous communities more vulnerable to disease.

According to a group of scholars writing in the journal Latin American Antiquity, in colonial Mexico, “by the mid-17th century, many… communities had failed, victims of massive population decline, environmental degradation, and economic collapse.” This is why it’s crucial for today’s scholars to emphasize the influence of colonial policies—as opposed to the Virgin Soil theory, which shifts responsibility away from Europeans.

One peak of the epidemic occurred in the 1570s. The exact pathogen that caused that epidemic is not yet known. Some scholars have speculated that, since it struck mostly younger people, it might have been something unique to the New World and reminiscent of the Spanish Influenza outbreak, possibly a tropical hemorrhagic fever. Other recent theories include Salmonella, or a combination of diseases. Native communities were the main victims of this epidemic due to their poverty, malnourishment, and harsh working conditions compared to the Spanish population.

Three Circles in the Sun

Aztec authors from central Mexico noted their reactions to the epidemics in fascinating detail. Writing 100 years after the Spanish military takeover, they were painfully aware of the consequences of epidemics and colonization: epidemics had taken place before, but the unprecedented scale of the disasters caused widespread incomprehension, sadness, and anger.

Much of the extant writing by Aztec authors dates to the turn of the seventeenth century. Many of the authors had experienced the plague themselves, its effects still fresh in their memories. I want to focus on two pieces of writing: a report by the well-known historian Diego Muñoz Camargo from Tlaxcala, written in Spanish; and an anonymous text in the indigenous language, Nahuatl, from the Puebla region.

As Diego Muñoz Camargo, the famous historian from the era, wrote:

In 1576, another great pestilence struck this land, bringing death and destruction to the native population. It lasted over a year and brought ruin and decay to most of New Spain [the Spanish Viceroyalty covering today’s Mexico], as the native population was then almost extinct. One month before the outbreak of the disease, an obvious sign had been seen in the sky: three circles in the sun, resembling bleeding or exploding suns, in which the colours merged. The colours of those three circles were those of the rainbow and could be seen from eight o’clock until almost one o’clock at noon.

This passage demonstrates the great importance of omens for the Aztecs. 

It is not surprising that the second report, from the smaller community of Tecamachalco, also links diseases with the appearance of a comet. Probably written by the native noble Don Mateo Sánchez, the text shows the extent of the catastrophe in words quite similar to Diego Muñoz Camargo’s:

On the first day of August [of 1576] the great sickness began here in Techamachalco. It was really strong; there was no resisting. At the end of August began the processions because of the sickness. They finished on the ninth day. Because of it, many people died, young men and women, those who were old men and women, or children… When the month of October began, thirty people had been buried. In just two or three days they would die… They lost their senses. They thought of just anything and would die.

Several of Don Mateo’s family members also died, including his wife and the alcalde (mayor) of his quarter. Don Mateo then took over the post of alcalde. One can sense his incomprehension and anguish. The decimation of the indigenous elites is evident throughout his account.

This decimation contributed to the transformation of native societies well into the seventeenth century, including forced native labor and resettlements, the introduction of hierarchical Spanish laws and government, Christianity, and the alphabet. Together with increasing European immigration, the epidemic led to a massive upheaval of indigenous sociopolitical organization and ways of life, especially in the Valley of Mexico.

Don Mateo’s is not the only surviving account of the epidemic from an indigenous perspective. Other anonymous annals from Puebla and Tlaxcala from the era discuss earlier waves of disease, which remained firmly rooted in collective memory more than 100 years after the events. Like Mateo, these sources do not try to account for the origin of the disease, but they provide an idea of the scale and horror of the epidemic and the personal tragedies involved, the uprooting of families, of whole towns.

Meanwhile, the Spaniards’ narratives tried to explain the catastrophic effect the disease had on the indigenous population by pointing to difficult living conditions. But they also interpreted it as divine punishment for paganism and a sign of the native peoples’ alleged inferiority to Europeans. Of course, European remedies such as bloodletting, used in hospitals to treat indigenous patients, worsened conditions instead of healing them. Ultimately, the Spanish Crown feared above all a further loss of cheap or unpaid labour; the priests a loss of souls to be converted.

Holding Off Oblivion

Despite the harsh conditions, the descendants of the Aztecs did not give up—as has long been claimed in traditional scholarship. As the historian Camilla Townsend has argued, the demographic collapse lent urgency to the projects of major native historians—including the authors I’ve cited in this essay. Nearly all pre-Hispanic sources were destroyed by the Spanish, with some lost over time. The Chalca scholar Domingo de Chimalpahin commented on this confluence of factors: the destruction of sources and abandonment of communities strengthened his sense of responsibility to future generations. By writing history, he attempted to save his ancestors’ past from looming oblivion. Drawing on pre-Hispanic faith, continuing political participation, and recording the histories of their people: these are some of the ways in which Aztecs proactively shaped their lives following colonial devastation.

Centuries of colonial exploitation and violence have made the indigenous peoples of both Americas disproportionately vulnerable to current epidemics. This makes the resilience of indigenous peoples and cultures all the more incredible. Such resilience has developed over more than 500 years, in the face of continual adversity and disregard. Native American peoples provide varied and remarkable testimonies on weathering existential crises. The least we can do, in the midst of the current pandemic, is listen.

Other Source

[akanemiura]

Prompt #3: Scale

My son and I, a phrase that I still hear myself speak to life with awe, sit shoulder-to-shoulder with my aging father and watch the ships cut seamlessly into the harbor on perfect glass waters. Genjiro clutches his cane between his knees and stares off in our shared silence, the only way we know how to honor an uneasy truce that has stretched on since the night I slipped in like a thief to break his heart and mend it in the same bittersweet gesture. When his grandson was still just a notion, a concept that had yet to take his first deep breaths of air, it was easier to worry after our future. His father, a fiend, an outsider, a blood traitor. It was never supposed to be like this, centuries of honed tradition funneled into his last child's reckless destiny, but now this boy with the most perfect, dark curls stands testament to both stalemate and peace between samurai and honorbreaker, our past and our future. He straddles a divide that I have struggled so hard to bridge, and now I couldn't imagine a moment without him. Since he came to be in my arms, I feel the scorching rage I hold like a hot coal quelled, if only for a moment.

The fresh sea breeze twists my hair and sends a plump-cheeked baby's face searching for the source of such sorcery. I watch the curiosity spark fire in his amber eyes as he searches me for answers, mother held on the scale of gods for a boy so small. It used to be that I never held a smile for long lest it upset the delicate balance of burdens piled high on my back, but now my face hurts from excess. And when I glance over, I see my father watching the boy named for his slain son, and I see his wizened mouth recrease faded lines that had fallen into disuse for years.

He meets my gaze and holds it, unflinching. We share a smile.

[regvined]

[ park seojoon, cis male, thirty-five ] Let’s give a warm welcome to one of Sparkwood’s finest, STEVEN CRAIN !! Before coming here, he once lived on the pages of THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE. Though now they currently spend most of their time as a WRITER. If you ask the townsfolk about what they are like, you will hear that they are LEVEL-HEADED but also PESSIMISTIC. If they had a theme song it would be BLOOD // WATER - GRANDSON. Let’s see how their story unravels this time.

steven. possible nicknames: stevie. cis male. bisexual. steven was the eldest of five, easily falling into the stereotypical older brother role. he wanted to be a leader and a good example for his younger siblings, his father and mother always supporting him and encouraging him to do so. he loved his mother and father and grew up too fast despite their love — that’s just what happened when you had so many siblings. he was inquisitive to an extent, understood and respected boundaries, didn’t ask questions when he knew he shouldn’t, and accepted things as they were rather than asking why they were the way that they were. he was a well-behaved kid and was usually advising the younger ones to get it together as well.

unfortunately, the crains’ lives wouldn’t be as presumptuously happy as it had been when the death of their mother came to be. while his siblings may not have fully understood at the time, steven knew what had happened when his father rushed him out of the house and told him their mother wasn’t coming. his heart broke and and he began blaming himself for what had happened. he was sure he’d seen the signs of his mother’s mood worsening, but he didn’t do anything about it. and, though he was a child, he felt like he had a hand in her passing. so, with only his father and his scarred siblings, steven turned colder and colder — more distant. he turned to writing to cope with his feelings, creating fake stories to explain the cruel world. if, for a moment, he could blame everything on something he couldn’t control, he could find peace.

as the crains grew and parted ways, steven began writing about the main source of all his troubles — their lives with their mother in her final days. he turned it into a ghost story, wanting to explain it all on something that wasn’t depression or some incurable illness. if it were ghosts that killed his mother, then that was something he could combat differently. plus, if the book was a hit, he was going to help the rest of the family by giving them all shares — shirley could grow her business, theo could pay off her school loans, nellie could pursue her hobbies, and luke could continue seeking help for his addiction. unfortunately, the news of the book drove a wall between him and his siblings. they hated it and blamed steven for profiting off their trauma. which, he could admit that he was, but he saw this as a way for all of them to finally put the past behind them and make something of it.

after their fight, steven went on his own and continued to right about people’s ghost stories despite not believing in them. he believed all ghost stories were linked with some sort of trauma or mental illness, a way for the person to cope just as how he made up his ghost story to cope. he kept in infrequent touch with his siblings, sending them well wishes on holidays and sending money to nellie that he knew would be going straight to luke’s drug habit. after a failed marriage, he needed a change of scenery and found himself here in sparkwood. little did he know that his siblings had also found their way here — as if a magnet was forcing them back together.

[helenaofdevon]

HELENA GREY : COUNTESS OF DEVON

BULLETPOINTS:

NAME: Helena Courtenay nee Grey

AGE / D.O.B.: 25 || August 22nd, 1534

STATUS / RANK: Countess of Devon

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: England

PLACE OF BIRTH: Bradgate House, Bradgate Park, Leicestershire - England

BIRTH ORDER: Second

MOTHER & FATHER: Frances Brandon & Henry Grey

SIBLINGS: Two, an elder and younger sister

SEXUALITY: bisexual biromantic

HOROSCOPE: Leo. ( leo virgo cusp )

VIRTUES:  dynamic, perspicacious, authentic

VICES:  strong-willed, opinionated calculative

MARITAL STATUS: married to nicholas courtenay, earl of devon

ISSUE: n/a

RELIGION: roman catholic / protestant. raised in a religiously divided house. is well versed in both

ALLIES: to be announced...

ADVERSARIES:  to be announced...

TIMELINE:

approx. 1492 – mary tudor, is born ten months after her brother, henry viii

early 1533 – wedding of frances brandon and henry grey, the marquess of dorset with permission from their parents as both are young and in love.

22 August 1534  – helena grey is born, she is the second child of couple

approx. 1540 – frances brandon with the approval of her husband begins to educate her daughters at Bradgate House. several clergy knowledgeable in all subjects and both protestant and catholic are commission in the private education of the girls. the youngest is still to small to start lessons.

approx 1551 / 52 – Helena's elder sister is likely married off. Helena is officially presented at court ( despite having grown up within it to an extent ) 

early 1554 – Helena Grey is precontracted to Nicholas Courtenay but Henry Grey dies of natural causes ( sickness ). Formal marriage arrangements thusly drag on for sometime for various reasons

late 1556  – Helena Grey formally marries Nicholas Courtenay

November 1558 – Helena's fahter in law and husband are arrested & tried ( the courtenay conspiracy ); cousin william pardons Col but exectued Hugh Courtenay thus making Col the new earl or devon; Helena is made countess of Devon

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION.

NAME & TITLE/ROLE: helena grey, countess of devon

MONIKER: the empyreal

AGE: 25

FACECLAIM: alicia vikander

THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: dynamic, perspicacious, authentic

THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: strong-willed, opinionated calculative

BIOGRAPHY:

A single decision changes the world from what it might have been. With a twist of fate or a turn of time in a direction that alters its ineffable course and what we know is no longer the truth hidden within the pages of a new history. So a family line is both royal adjacent and equally as royal as the one that rules. The grandson of the stepson of Edward IV would marry the Wotton girl and Henry Grey, Marquess of Dorset would be brought forth into the world. Frances Brandon would also be born of Mary Tudor, the youngest surviving child of Henry VII and sister to Henry VIII. The two would marry and they would have three daughters and no sons and that would be an absolute facet of time - a fixed point that would remain unchanged in this or any other reality. Rather one should state that events before the birth of these two individuals had changed setting an entirely new course when ten months after the birth of a future king his sister Mary Tudor was then born. Altered forever was the flow of time and so became a possibility for a different set of Grey sisters to be born. It would not change though the fact their blood would mark them as dangerous and would call into question those would they attach themselves to as royal lines no matter how distant were quite troublesome.

Helena Grey would be born the second daughter and middle child of her parents and born perhaps as one of the most miraculous women. Each Grey sister was something to behold and wonder just the same but a girl would stand out. Helena had many passions and a zest for life and yet was capable of being a rather rooted person who was loyal, kind, and quite perspicacious. She was not her elder sister who was by default their example nor the younger sister who was beloved as the youngest and final child. A girl however in any situation even from the smallest age took charge and was the leader of the small band of girls. In the days of early youth, there were a gaggle of giggles and many games to be played in the various halls causing little ones to be a source of mild trouble and much entertainment which she was generally at the heart of. She would have an interesting youth and her mother would see that each of her girls was incredibly well educated in a religiously divided household. Helena excelled in her studies as tutors ( many of them various clergy from both the catholic and protestant faith ) taught her various languages and to read and write many of them and more. She danced and swirled through everyone’s lives and one could rightfully argue even as a young girl you were forever changed by her presence and the life and light she brought to any situation.

All was not so wondrous but time and age cover massive events that would come into play years later. Helena was more than well aware of family history and the lines that twisted and crossed and broke out into branches that had started civil wars and uprisings. Lady Helena knew many people's real faces behind the masks they wore at court, having been a favorite as her mother once was of the king. After all one learns to play the game or to become the one being played. There were so many rules, so many unwritten codes and all the world swirled with intrigue and Helena navigated the water thusly earning to her name several handfuls of friends but suffered no fools as her companions - especially as many a person with loftier ambitions would seek out noble blood with royal ties with no sort of good intention.  Helena, not that she wasn't already strong-willed and having a smart tongue, learned she had a sharp one and an eye for false intention despite her Christian ways being told a woman was to be meek and forgiving of her fellow man.

There were suitors indeed interested in the girl even before she became available to marry, even before her elder sister was wed. Who could deny she had a draw and one enjoyed being around her never short on a conversation or any pleasantly stimulating amount of time spent but in truth, Helena would've rather not married at all. She was of an independent mind, not keen on being tied to a man whom she barely knew and her parents chose. Truly even court despite her deep love for people and being a point of focus would've rather spent her time in the country reading books. living fully and caring for horses and dogs and the idea of a small gaggle of children she could return to either sister not enjoying the idea of settling. Life was to be lived and well and perhaps Helena had ideas of what she wanted. It certainly wasn't the men that presented themselves especially after the elder sister wed with Helena being even more pushed to the forefront than she had naturally been with her personality. When Helena set eyes on Nicholas Courtenay a young woman knew what she wanted or rather who she would desire to marry if one must marry. She saw in him an equal partner, one who would respect and cherish her, one she would be willing to call husband and he did indeed make her laugh. It never fully occurred to her either that her interest and yes eventual marriage to the man would have quietly been considered a potentially problematic union. Two descendants of separate plantagenet lines could've been construed as a suspicious and powerful marriage politically. Was it what both of their parents had intended when a match was brokered? Could there have been a moment while walking past her father's study and the door was slightly ajar that two men may have quietly conspired something more in marrying the two? What could've been considered suspicious about two men with some ambition whispering amongst themselves? Helena would never know what was truly discussed in that room as her father died in 1554, narrowly avoiding the fate his friend would suffer later dying of a sickness that would take him off his head suffering the effects of fevers and other health issues. That was not the actual tragedy a young woman would suffer for it would come later once she was married to Col.

Helena, like all the world, mourned her great uncle's passing. The death of a king was nothing easy to stomach especially after the death of her father though years apart. She did not expect however when her father-in-law mourned the death of a friend and distant cousin that it would break open a well building up inside him for years. Hugh Courtenay had become a father to Helena since joining their house, he was indeed a dear companion of hers and she cared for her father and mother in law but saw nothing of what was to come. A series of letters poured out from her father in law's hands with many damning words and the attention it thus shined on Col and herself. Ugly words and pointed accusations were made during an investigation into the letters that her marriage in connection with the things Hugh Courtenay was writing was the beginning of some great conspiracy to seat someone else on the throne and other such aspirations tied with Catholic strings. Helena watched the trial drag on and saw a Queen push for the death of both the young lady's father in law and her husband as well. For a brief moment, Helena could nearly feel the axe on her own neck had both a husband and father-in-law been executed - she imagined and expected the worst. Thankfully, truly as Helena would see it, cousin William would intervene but only on behalf of Nicholas. Her husband's charges were dismissed but Helena watched like many others did the execution of her father-in-law to again serve as a warning not to attempt anything similar or remotely considered treasonous.

As war knocks at the doorsteps of England now and spreads across europe Helena finds herself in a precarious position. She is a well connected woman among the court and is popular among the people and abroad through her correspondence with many individuals who have strong opinions with the ears of leaders and influential beings. Helena is of royal blood as is her husband and both were well educated and dynamic.. One would be foolish not to be suspicious of the two especially after her husband's father, the late Earl of Devon's beheading. If so motivated and aligned they could pose a serious threat - a credible one. The woman is well within her rights to be angry, to seek revenge as her husband may desire but Helena is loyal and more concerned about the whole of England rather than vengeance. She worries over her husband though not fully knowing where his mind is at with the state of his depleted family and if she should be suspicious of his thoughts. If they were to err on the side of the whispers and suspicions of those who would see them as adversaries Helena would be divided between love and loyalty to country. It is a strange world, another time entirely in which to be alive but if anyone can play the game and come out on the other side it may be this woman..

WANTED CONNECTIONS: 

at the moment none that I can think of but I would adore any and all plotting to create something truly wonderful.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION.

NAME / ALIAS: eden

AGE: 26

TIMEZONE: est

DISCORD USERNAME: edenzini

[mcfanely]

Prince Cole, the Quiet One

Since I’ve been thinking on this idea for the past few days and couldn’t get it out of my head, I had to write something for it. In this AU, Cole takes the role of Harumi.

Cole has always been the Jade Prince, he’d been born into the role; yet being a ninja had always taken priority. Though, after years of being pushed to the side, ignored and having his problems not taken seriously, his opinions not taken into account by bother his father, the Emperor, and his teammates; he’s tired. 

And he won’t be ignored anymore. He won’t be silenced.

The Quiet One, 1613 words

"The mask of hatred... We've found it." Cole laughed, and he had to laugh. After all this time, after all this stress and false leads and simply not knowing where to go, the final mask was right in front of him.

Right there. Shrouded in purple energy.

Lloyd smiled too, but it was probably due to a different reason. They'd beaten the Sons of Garmadon, they weren't going to win and carry out their plan; that was most likely the reason.

In that moment, though, Cole had won. No one else, not the ninja, no one.

Him.

He just needed the mask.

"Lloyd, you can take it. Your Oni blood will let you take the mask."

And Lloyd turned, he faced the purple field with a set gaze and Cole swallowed hard. All this time, all of the lies and the struggle, it would be over! He could finally get what he wanted, bring back what was taken from him.

Then Lloyd took hold of the mask, and pulled. The purple light flared for just a second, but died down just as promptly; and the mask was free.

Cole took a small step forward beside himself, he just wanted a proper look. "The last mask..." He shook himself, "Come on, let’s head back to the Bounty. Before the Sons of Garmadon find out we've got the last mask."

He reached over for the mask, subtly. Like, why would he not want to hold it? Lloyd could take the lead, focus on getting back to the Bounty safely, and Cole could carry the mask.

Then Lloyd shifted away, moving the mask with him, and with a slight bit of confusion, he questioned, "How did you know... That I was part Oni?"

Cole just raised an eyebrow after a second, as if it was obvious, "Lloyd, you're the grandson of the first Spinjitzu Master. He's an Oni, you're part Oni."

"But, at Mistaké's, Jay and I found out. And we didn't tell anyone, it wasn't important at the time..." Lloyd faltered, they hadn’t told anyone, "We didn't even mention it."

"Jay told me." Cole shrugged, but his eyes flickered between Lloyd's expression and the mask. At the shock that was there, the confusion.

The dawning realisation.

"Lloyd, just give me the mask, we need to get going--"

"You're the Quiet One..." He whispered. 

All that could be heard in the cavern was the sound of dripping water. The echo of the river running outside, and their joint breathing. Deep, fast. 

Cole swallowed hard, but put on a small smile, "What? Lloyd, come on. That's a stupid idea." 

He advanced, Lloyd just stepped further away. 

"Why would I be the Quiet One?" 

Lloyd paused, and Cole could tell he was thinking. Thinking of a reason, an explanation of his accusation. 

"I don't know... But Cole, you're the Jade Prince. You're a Ninja! But you knew about the mask, you knew where the map to it was.

"It wouldn't be the first secret you've kept from us-"

Cole's gaze snapped up to Lloyd at those words. The first secret? The fact that he'd kept it from them? That he’d kept everything from them?

No, he didn't keep secrets. He didn't lie to people, not really. He wouldn't have to if he knew that he could trust them with the truth. The reveal of him being the Jade Prince had only been a source of jibes and ridicule. Jay had laughed at the situation, right in front of his father.

Was there any reason why he should have told them? The Sons of Garmadon knew, they knew every part of his life. Everything.

Whereas, the ninja, his supposed friends find out one thing about him and suddenly that's all they tease him for.

Is it any wonder why he kept things from them?

And if he'd told them, would they have cared. Taken an interest? Cole knew that he wasn't the most liked ninja; in the sense that if he asked anyone of his teammates who they cared about the most, Cole wouldn't be at the top of anyone's list.

He was in the background. He was ignored and pushed aside and almost forgotten about! He got turned into a ghost and no one seemed to care how he felt; and between his life at the Palace, at the Monastery, and with the Sons of Garmadon, he was being pulled in so many directions and he was so exhausted...

Yet, no one asked him if he was okay. No one acknowledged the bags under his eyes or the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Me, keeping secrets?" Cole laughed beside himself, though it wasn't jovial. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes. They really didn't understand. 

They didn't know what they'd done-- or not done. 

"I've never kept anything from you guys. The idea of a secret is something that I keep hidden actively from people. That is unseen by others." Cole grit his teeth, glared at Lloyd. "You don't pay attention, no one cares enough about me to even class it as a secret. No one looks at me and wonders if I'm okay, wonders if I'm keeping things from people-- no one wonders because no one cares!" He shouted. 

The ground rumbled in unison, powers fuelled by Cole's frustration. The hurt. Lloyd stumbled back. 

"Cole--" 

"I'm invisible to you guys! Always the last one you think about, the last one you notice!" There was a short crack in his voice. He threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling. Everything was coming rushing out, all because Lloyd had to pick the wrong thing to say. 

"So what if I am the Quiet One? I've been silenced my whole life! By my father and my role as the Prince, by being a Ninja and not being able to tell you who I really am! By being the least important! No one listens to me!

No one notices that I'm in pain and I'm so exhausted that I can't even keep myself awake half the time!"

Cole advanced forward faster, and Lloyd moved the mask behind his back and maintained the distance between the two of them.

"Cole… We didn't know you felt like that." Lloyd said, placating. "If you'd just come and told us, told us how you were feeling, who you are, we would have helped you! We would have listened, understood!" 

Cole grabbed for the mask and Lloyd tripped backwards, hitting the ground, Cole just stood over him, his shoulders heaving, his eyes burning with tears that were quickly threatening to spill. 

"So you could laugh at me?" He shouted. "And don't tell me you wouldn't have, Jay did! In the throne room, in front of the Emperor, my father!” Cole jabbed a finger at his own chest, “So you could dismiss my feelings? Get caught up in some other worldly problem or someone else's issue?" 

Lloyd looked hurt at that, and gathered himself up off the floor, "We're your friends, Cole! We may not get it right all the time but we're here for you! We care about you, and whatever this Quiet One phase is, whatever the reason behind it is, we can help you." His eyes moved down to the mask in his hands, before he gripped it tightly. 

"Why do you want the masks? They can resurrect people, why do you want them?" The question was carefully measured, quietly spoken in the expanse of the cavern. The atmosphere was still thick, tense, but Lloyd was trying to calm it. Calm the situation.

"Because with the masks, I can get the one person back who actually cares about me." Cole swallowed around the lump in his throat, he could feel a tear fall free and track down his cheek, he just wiped it away and held out his hand.

"Give me the mask, Lloyd."

"Tell me who you're resurrecting-- Cole, tell me everything. We can sit and talk, figure this out. This doesn't have to go any further than it has done, you can stop right now. This whole thing can stop."

Lloyd, always the talker. Always words before actions. 

"I want my mother back." Cole ground out after a second of silence, his head dropping forwards a little. He didn't need Lloyd to see the pain on his face. He didn't want anyone to see the pain he felt inside.

Lloyd's eyes widened. 

Cole just straightened up after a moment, he eyes the mask but his attention was mainly on Lloyd. At the fact that he was listening. 

Or, at the fact that it took deception and lies and a severe betrayal to finally get someone to listen to his plight. 

To ask if he was okay. 

Is that really what it took to get people to listen to him? For him to stop being invisible? 

"I just want to be seen, Lloyd. I just want to be understood and cared about--

"We do care! And you can help us understand--" 

"Shut up." He spat. 

Lloyd promptly fell silent. 

"I want my mother." Cole shifted on his feet, until he was in a fighting stance, his legs apart, arms up and fists balled. "And I want that mask."

Lloyd observed what was happening, but didn't make any move to retaliate, to show he was going to fight back. 

"Cole--" 

"I want to be seen! I don't want to be ignored, I don't want to be invisible or to be someone's second choice! I want to be cared about!

And when you give me that mask, willingly or not, I'll finally have someone who cares.

I'll finally be seen."