#but that's wandering in to an entirely different mythological direction

[dapurinthos]

staring at natale conti’s claim that a later greek mythology tradition spoke of akherôn being the offspring of hêlios and gaia (or demeter and i am not getting into the whole gaia/demeter doubling regarding their titles and roles, etc, since it’s a lot and it also includes rhea and would be rude not to have her here) and i don’t have his source for this and can’t find a digital edition of the english translation of his mythologicae where he said it. at least this review of the english translation says the latin is easy???? and i know exactly what part i’m looking for.

yes my brain is going brrrr on how john is dominicus, is the sun. also the concept of gaia’s children being tossed down and imprisoned in tartarus beyond the okeanos river and how even the sun does not pass the river.

and this bit from the theogony:

And there [at the ends of the earth] dwells the goddess loathed by the deathless gods, terrible Styx, eldest daughter of back-flowing Okeanos. She lives apart from the gods in her glorious house vaulted over with great rocks and propped up to heaven all round with silver pillars.

[mr-clow]

Ensemble 2: Greed and Politics. Part 1:

Quatl was disappointed. As a representative of the Gubni he had planned every move he and other representatives in the galactic council would make. It was easy to trick humanity’s delegate, so the other species could have a meeting to vote for the reclamation of several human colonies and distribute them between the other species. As he knew, the only ones against it were the KalHals, they were too attached to humanity, and the fact that those furred Sanaris held their vote and ended abstaining to take a position was also inside his calculations.

Even then, he had studied every other specie, and made whatever arrangements were needed to have the majority approval. The Rajne have been in this since the beginning, those tall humanoid shaped herbivores gave him the creeps, but they were as good as him to handle the council and both species coveted new systems, worlds and resources the humans had conquered through their unstoppable conviction. The SavJok and Naba never had a good relationship with humanity, as they had grave issues in the past and were glad to dismantle the human expansionist machine. They also chipped in with ships and military forces, as well the BitiOng who were always hungry for more space to reproduce and consume as any insect specie. The avians were scared, and they simply vote to avoid conflict directed to them, but they would not help, any species that had a depredatory past made them cringe and humans were the case. What Quatl could not stop wandering was why the Spin’d rejected the proposal. He had bought the delegated weeks before, those arachnids were easily convinced. The Spin’d delegate had got permission even to dispose a few hundred ships and their tribulation to the cause, and the morning of the proposal he renounced and was replaced by a totally new delegate that not only voted against the proposal but defended humanity.

Quatl stood and served himself another glass of water with added nutrients. It tasted awful, but being a council delegate didn’t allow him to pass a month with his legs buried to absorb nutrients from the soil. His several roots tapped the floor as he walked around his office and went out to the cells below the council. He cleared his mind of any doubts as he knew humanity could not win against five entire empires from different species, but still needed to understand why humanity had stopped fighting two rotations ago and retreated as they could to their home system without even trying to fight. That was not planned, nor expected, humans always fought, to death and beyond. Suddenly, they only fought for nine of their rotations and retreated without any notice, even the cries for peace from their calls stopped. Total and absolute radio silence.

Michael was tired and hurt, he tried to beak at least one of those dirty branches from Quatl when he heard what was proposed and approved in a session he was not notified. Several guards stopped him, gave him a beating and threw him in this dirty cell. He wasn’t able to notify anyone to prepare for the joint attack and he was sure that his team suffered the same luck as him or worse. As the countless possibilities consumed his mind an echo reached him and he knew Quatl decided to appear after ten days or so, keeping track of the time was difficult here.

Quatl – I see that the guards could have beaten you more, I regret stopping them so soon now.

The voice, dubbed by the translator that was placed over Michael’s ear, gave him nausea, there was nothing in the whole universe he hated more than this guy. As Michael saw something that might have been a mythological dryad, he stood, only to tower over this dirty tree with brains and spat through the laser bars that held him prisoner.

Michael – I would love to see if your people are as flammable as the vegetation from my world.

Quatl – Don’t waste your energy, human, it is useless. The only thing that you can get right now is a bit of information from humanity if you answer my question.

Michael – So, the almighty flower pot wants my help now. Tell me, what keeps your roots outside the dirt for so long.

Quatl – Mock me to your heart contempt, I’m free in the end. Now tell me two things, why did humanity kept their inner worlds so lightly guarded, it is not common for your species to lack military power everywhere you go.

Michael – You attacked directly the inner worlds? And you ask me this!? What’s wrong with you, those are mainly civilian worlds!!

Quatl - Human worlds for what I care. Why were they unguarded?

Michael – Mainly because no one would be so stupid, coward or dishonourable to attack those worlds.

Quatl – Ha! Really, you are so naive? And even after only nine days you start to retire, running away to Sol system cowardly?

Michael – Wait, what?

Quatl – Yes, humanity is surrendering their worlds, leaving them behind and running back without giving any fight.

Michael – That, you disposable piece of timber, I won’t believe. I know who we are, and we would never retreat like that.

Quatl – So, you don’t know why, too. This might be a problem and I’m loosing time.

Quatl left, leaving the human screaming things he didn’t care to hear. He needed to warn the others, but warn them of what, he wondered. The war was going so well that they were almost a quarter of a cycle ahead of schedule (Around hundred and fifty human rotations). They expected high losses in the first cycle, but humans barely gave fight the first rotations and suddenly they started retreating. He remembered that centuries ago humanity did several sneak attacks against the SavJok, this might be the case again. He started cunning how to convince the other species of this and to crush humanity until nothing was left of them. Quatl approached Kiltnik office as he needed to share this with the Rajne delegate.

[prctty-birdie]

Happy Halloween!🎃✨

May you meet Death today?

Made for the one and only @toguchindraws , hope you like it!

(got a bit carried while writing and finished doing three whole different versions about your prompt; also got a bit too long, I guess? Sorry for any mistakes; I tried my best to make sure everything is right and make sense, since it`s been a while I`ve wrote something other than essays in english.)

Part of the 2022 Hellcheer Gift Exchange, hosted by @helloween-gift-exchange

Tags: Scared mortal, Otherworldly chauffeur, No Vecna, The Mummy(1991) elements used, AU where death have diferent servants to take souls into the afterlifes, Egyptian Mythology, Eddie is Anubis, Chrissy can see the other side, sheningans ensue, Mentioned Abusive family, Chrissy make a new crazy AND powerful friend, Jason is going to places.

“When darkness falls across the land, the world turns upside down, in a mysterious lullaby;where death, his angels and other devils are all wandering out here  just waiting for lost souls.....”

Christine "Chrissy" Cunningham or as her boyfriend Jason calls, "Chris" always has some kind of "other side" problems. She could see when a kind of shadow with no actual form, started following people and when this happened; a few days or even a month later (just once, the most long and successful witnessed by her) the said person would die.

She started seeing them after her grandfather, by mom's side, passed away.

At just the age of eight years old, remembers vividly how in peace he looked, when he closed his eyes and the shadow came out by the wall on the side of his bed at the hospital; just stretched his hand in the direction of his body and a second later with a blink, disappeared and the machinery started beeping.

The following days passed like a blur, she remembers telling her mother about this and she didn't care; probably thinking this was just her daughter`s imagination and when her grandpa's funeral happened she saw more of these shadows gluing themselves into the adults steps. Gradually, she started seeing them more often to a point where predicting bad things happening around became easy as breathing.

When turned fifteen, she noticed there were some kind of dogs or wolves as they seemed to look, with various sizes just as big as cars and little as sheeps, with dark red glowing eyes. They could see her staring and usually would just sniff at the direction she was walking by , but never exactly bothered to come close or chase….

1986

Well, this was her year of graduation and everything was running smoothly - thank you very much - except today, for three single-headed and weird facts:

Waking up to a crow screeching in her window, he had red scarlet eyes and let out a scream before flying to somewhere;

Missing the bus to school;

Suddenly and without a thought accepting a ride from this dude who could be a psycho killer by the looks and his expensive car (a damn Chevy Bel Air 1955 Black and Chrome, that she only knew because of mr. Richard Harrington; who lives ten blocks away driving one around when he's on town)

Well, maybe this was supposed to be her bad day; the Universe surely loves her to make this happen! anyway, she trailed off in thought until hearing the dude at the driver wheel (to whom she didn't trade a single word with since entered the car, could swear was some kind of vampire by the pale-white skin tone and didn't even introduced herself) started speaking in this low and bewitching voice.

- Miss Christine Cunningham, what a beautiful day; don`t you agree?- his voice sounded kinda emotionless while eyeing her with a knowing smirk- guess I wasn't supposed to be here to take you. - Chrissy`s head started ringing a bell at this sentence and she almost broke her neck, turning her head too fast to look at him entirely - But my curiosity just took the best of me, I guess…

At this moment he stopped in front of the school and looking through the window, there was no living soul walking around with also a weird mist, blocking some spaces of the outside view. Which was surely weird because she saw the bus passing by and right that her house is the last stop, before the bus goes directly to school and the mist was just weird; surely there weren't any drop in temperature and the sun was shining very bright today when leaving home.

Okayyyyyy…. 

Maybe this was her year of death and not the perfect-graduation-before-marrying-her-high school-sweetheart, but at least was going to be happy very far from her abusive mother and ignorant/absent father kind of freedom. Except for the fact she traced her brother's fate and will let him suffer the same twisted shit as her. It's too late to regret now, she can only pray that some other biggest force helps him.

The man started laughing (this cute half sweet and funny, kind of) and she may have or may not hold her breath; while lost in thoughts waiting for him to recompose himself after getting out of her own head.

- I'm sorry - he says with a shining and charming smile,before turning to look at her (maybe she went crazy today, but his eyes were a red scarlet like the dogs but with a gleam of knowledge like the crow at her window this morning, at least for a second seemed). With a blink his eyes were this chocolate brown, but the gleam stood there, he seemed to devour every detail of her avidly. He just offered his hand to her and when she went for a handshake, he took her hand making the way to his lips and leaving a little kiss at the back - I`m sorry - he seems to say this word way too much - my lady; but how impolite of me, to not present myself correctly to such a sweet woman as you! - he still held her hand, but the compliments and too formal way of speaking made her heart beat faster, with a little bit of red showing on her cheeks.

 - I am Anubis, guardian of the underworld and one of death's angels…

 - WHAT?!?- Chrissy just bursts out, before containing herself and now scared with all her being. While the supernatural being in front of her just seems to enjoy her reaction and waits patiently for her to calm down.

- Exactly what you heard, my lady; - she still can't believe this dude looking like a rockstar, seemingly to just have got out of one of those magazines such as Rolling Stone is THE egyptian God of underworld and afterlife. Well, it's just like this old saying: “Never doubt a bad event, cause things tend to get way worse; faster than a blink of an eye”. Maybe she's just hallucinating the whole thing? She pinch her leg and yep, this hurts and she's surely awake.

 - Okay, so…. What exactly do you want from me? I mean, I`m just a mortal as you can see and I don't exactly have anything to offer out of the ordinary. - he raises his hand as a signal for her to stop speaking.

- Lady Cunningham, I know you; I've heard enough from the shadows, so many stories of you to just make me curious enough to plan, want to come out of my house and meet you personally. My subordinates are amazed by the fact you can see them and always wanted to come closer and speak with you; but that`s explicitly against our most ancient and important rules. I deeply apologize on behalf of them, if they ever scared you or even chased you around; they just didn't know what to do or how to react to you seeing them, unlike all the other people.- he never let go of her hand while speaking and seemed disappointed after speaking about this essentially -  But, even breaking the rules death gave us and all,  I'm here to also make an offer….. - he looks directly to her like there`s nothing except her soul and could read her deepest secrets without even thinking too much.

She is still scared, not only because he's an egyptian god but because the world out of this space seems to have stopped the clock of time and is very empty. 

- Eternity is something so boring, especially if you can't be seen by other people; so, what I want to offer you is very simple: you can spend some time and keep me company, when you're free from your obligations and in return I can give you rides to anywhere, at anytime - and there it was, the glint but this time; seems like some kind of trap or especially making a deal with the devil himself in exchange for her soul. - So, what do you say?

Well, this wasn't exactly what she had in mind when he offered a ride to school (more like a murder, to be more exactly). But at least he seems to be good even being a powerful god and seems lonely. Well at least she wasn`t trading her soul for some crap and maybe even win a true friend (who knows?);

- Deal. So I can pet the dogs,crows or whatever they are now and they will not try to kill me? - He tried to mask his laugh with a cough and it didn't work.

- By Ra`s sunglasses! PLEASE, tell me you didn't try to pet any of them - he teased softly and humorously.

- Yeah, I did when I was nine, but it was JUST once!- Chrissy tried to hide her joyful smile and failed- So, you have a deal and I want to know, how will you contact me? and if we're gonna hang out, we`ll need a new name for you. Anubis is weird for literally anyone, except if it's a dog- he seems concentrated and trying to find an answer to both questions. Then he seems to remember something, searches his pockets, until he finds a ring inside his jacket and asks for her hand again with a gesture.

-Have you ever heard the story of a place called Hamunaptra?-she shakes her head in a silent “no” - It's an ancient city; now it's buried and forgotten in the Sahara sands; used to be my domain and was called the City of the Dead, used to be the house to my bracelet; An antique necropolis which was the final rest to pharaohs and their families. - he puts a golden ring with the format of a scorpion, with a jackal head with his sting ready to attack, in her middle finger - this is a little copy of my bracelet, with it you can summon me or go to any place where I am. - he gives her a little proud smile, while she just admires the ring and traces its form with the fingertips; before putting her own hand in chest and enjoying this warm feeling of matter to someone. But she fastly snaps out of her short trance to ask:

- What about your name?  we`re still stuck here. - sounding a bit impatient and worried, he just shakes his hand dismissing her worries. 

- Well, that's the easiest part; you can choose any name you want and it's fine with me. - she then remembers why she thought he looked a bit familiar, he seems almost identical to this man….but what was his name? Oh, yes! Eddie Van Halen. She snaps her fingers after remembering this. He stares at her like she's plotting some miraculous plan and waits for her to say something.

- Okay, so you`re gonna be Eddie. An old friend who lives in Chicago and is moving to Hawkins? - she looks at him to confirm and he nods a short “yes”.

- Sooo….- she tries to think of something else, like a thank you. But remain silent and just discard this thought. - See you tomorrow afternoon after cheer practice? - she smiles happy and he does the same.

- Yes,surely my lady! - he answers kinda excited - Oh! and I almost forget, just touch the sting of the ring three times and I will come as fast as I can to where you are. - he says, shaking his head a bit. He then snapped his fingers and smiled like a little kid, who just did something without the parents knowledge. - Now, you`re ready to go to your class and back to everyone, before they just panic.

With this, just as the world was waiting for a command to come back to normal. The sun shines once again softly against her face and all the mist slowly dissolves herself into thin air. She just lets out a heavy sigh of relief and opens the door, gets out and closes. Before going into the school building, she turns one last time and sees Anubis, or better, as he would be called now ; “Eddie” with the passenger window now open, sending a short goodbye with his hand. After she does the same, he yells:

- Say goodbye to Jason for me! - he uses his hand as a megaphone -  because he's literally not going to live enough to see tomorrow comin` - and as fast as he can; he just rolls up the window again, turns to the exit of the parking lot and goes away. While Chrissy is just standing there, in shock, not having processed the last sentence he just dropped on her; while watching the black Bel Air getting smaller in the distance and slowly thinking:

[As weird as this can be, I think we're gonna be great friends and well… I can deal with this shit after all]

Little did she know, after all;

they become much more than just friends….

Allies, Lovers - Soulmates.

[echoes-of-kemet]

Oh knower of extremely niche topics (mean that in a positive way), is there any historic mention of vampirism in ancient egypt??

Not to my knowledge, no. I know that a handful of vampire media claims that there were vampires in Ancient Egypt- some even being nobility or rulers- but there are no historical texts which support this being a belief that was held as far as I know. I've also seen it proposed by a small few that Osiris was a vampire, which I have to respectfully reject outright.

HOWEVER, vampires and vampirism are European concepts, but have similarities with pieces of a variety of other cultures. Generally speaking, the oldest mentions of creatures that broadly match the traditional description of a vampire come from the ancient Near East. While Egypt isn't one of these sources, it neighbored them and its culture mingled with theirs'. As I said, there is nothing in Egyptian mythology or ancient history which lines up with tales of vampires enough to equate them, but there are a handful of deities and concepts which have similarities.

Sekhmet comes to mind first and foremost, with her power over disease and infamous gluttonous bloodthirst. I have seen a handful of other people posit Sekhmet as the "original" vampire, but I disagree for a few major reasons. First of all, she has no connection with death nor the afterlife beyond being a slayer and protectress; she is tied to life and strength of the living Pharaoh, rather than the afterlife. Secondly, while she does cause and spread disease, she is also responsible for healing these and this is just as vital to her divine "role" so to speak; traditionally speaking, vampires strictly spread pestilence and have no connection (nor reason to have one) with curing or healing. Third, she is unique and possesses no contagious quality like some tales of vampires; her thirst for blood was entirely her own, not transmitted by some other source nor imparted to any others.

Other deities noted for drinking or feasting on blood include Shezmu, who (in some tellings) put Ra/Osiris' enemies into his press to make wine from their blood, and also played a major role in the Cannibal Hymn (thought this was mostly symbolic rather than actual cannibalism); Ammit, who not only feasted on the hearts of the unworthy but delighted in chowing down on the rest of their bodies; Babi, who much like Ammit would devour those deemed sinful and would occasionally fill her role, though entrails were noted as his preferred snack; and Khonsu, who is also noted in the Cannibal Hymn and has the epithet "lives on hearts." I'm certain there are others worth mentioning that I've managed to overlook, but these are who came to my mind.

Lastly, though they are not considered gods by any means and have a very loose definition, the wandering-demons as a whole are worth mentioning here. Some are said to eat or otherwise prey on humans, even attempt to steal their souls whilst sleeping- but I bring them up more for their direct ties to things like pestilence, famine, and drought. Both Sekhmet and Bast supposedly commanded legions of these wandering-demons, though I personally think this is another case of Bast being conflated with her sister; Bast has no real connection to disease or healing them specifically, and the sickness which Sekhmet unleashed was spread by her wandering-demons. (I specify wandering-demons as they're distinct from guardian-demons like Ammit or Babi, but that's a whole different, extremely complicated and long winded matter lol)

[noramoons]

for reasons wretched and divine:

act i ↠ part i

↠ pairing: bang chan x fem reader (afab)

↠ genre: wolf demon au, greek mythology au, demon!stray kids

↠ word count: 2k

↠ rating: mature/18+

↠ warnings: language, violence, torture, smut, more warnings to be added

↠ summary: You've heard stories about the Lykos clan for your entire life. You know the rules about dealing with demons - never look them in the eye, never trespass on a shrine without an offering, and never walk in their territory alone.

When did you forget to listen?

| next | masterlist | also posted on ao3!

Something has been following you since you left work.

You felt it the minute you left the building—a presence, like eyes boring into the back of your skull. You'd turned around in every direction trying to find the source of the presence to no avail—there's nothing.

And yet, there is undoubtedly something. You hear the bushes rustle behind you on the sidewalk, and you whip your head around only to be met with silence. There's a whisper—your name, maybe? Or someone else's—but the instant you think you recognize it, it vanishes.

You pick up your pace a little now. Whatever it is, it certainly won't follow you into the Wilds: four miles of abandoned woods in either direction.

You know no one knows their way through the miles of trees here like you do. Hundreds of years ago, this area was known as the Pantheon—the entryway between your world, the Interior, and the realm of the deities, the Citadel. During that time, the Pantheon housed dozens upon dozens of shrines, temples, and offering sites to the countless gods and devils that roamed the planet. You aren't sure exactly when they disappeared, or why, for that matter—almost all of your teachers in school said something different. There was internal conflict between the deities, or their powers unexpectedly weakened, or they became irrelevant with the advent of humans with Flairs—whatever the reason was, you know the deity clans haven't heard a word of worship since your grandparents were alive.

Your grandmother was always still a zealot, though. You wondered occasionally if she was the last person on the planet who still truly believed the deities were alive and kicking, and she always made sure you listened to her lectures whenever you came to visit. Don't ever make a deal with a demon, Y/N—if you ever see a deity, never look at it in the eyes—and especially don't wander into the Wilds—

Well, you suppose you weren't always much for following rules.

Regardless, the Wilds are abandoned—despite no one seeing a deity in over a hundred years, most people still stay as far away from the forest as possible. It's probably why you got such a great deal on your home that's only half a mile west of it—everyone that you've ever known has been too afraid to even try to trek a path through it, and you've been warned to stay away from it by family and friends for years. Despite that, though, you've felt a strange magnetism to it since you were young. It's never been hard for you to find your way in and out. Perhaps you're just better with directions than you thought.

Or perhaps that, all along, has been your Flair. Your friends all have one—from birth, Yui's been able to read fortunes, and Saori can see the history of any object by touching it, and Sana can animate drawings that she sees (they have to be made from real ink, though)—but you've never been able to do anything of the sort. Everyone's is always fairly niche; no one has real "super" powers like you used to see in those movies, but you think having the power to never get lost in this one stretch of woods would be a little too specific for even the gods to have given you.

But this is no time to think about any of that, and you know it. You can still sense whoever—whatever is following you into the Wilds' entrance. You're only about a quarter of a mile in, though—surely you can shake them if you make a confusing loop or two.

Once you've circled the entrance area twice, a sigh of relief escapes you—the feeling of any kind of presence behind you is gone. Before you have any time to think about what the hell it might have been, though, you feel it again—only this time, it's fifty feet in front of you.

A breathless "how" escapes your lips. You'd led this thing around the woods for twenty minutes—how could it have possibly gotten in front of you in that time?

You can feel the beginning signs of panic settling into your chest, but you take a long, shaky inhale before you exhale, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides. You still know this forest better than anyone else—you can still make your way out before this thing, whatever it may be.

You start towards your right, going around where you can feel the presence in hopes of beating it to the edge of the woods. Before long, though, a feeling that you haven't known in years suddenly overwhelms you.

You're lost.

Again, you mutter a "how" in spite of yourself. You know the Wilds like the back of your hand—every gnarled tree stump, every old and bent tree, every decaying temple ruin is instantly recognizable to you.

So how the hell do you not know where you are?

The presence has gotten closer in the time that it's taken you to figure out your situation, and you can finally, finally see an outline of a person. Or what you think is a person, at first.

Because the closer it gets, the sooner you realize it's way too tall to be human. Whatever it's using to walk along the ground definitely aren't feet, either. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were talons, like that of a bird.

You're frozen in fear—where can you go when you have no clue where you are or what this thing is that's approaching you? The panic catches back up to your brain eventually and you break out into a run, but it's too late and you know it. With no way of knowing where you're going, this thing is bound to catch up to you soon, and by then you—

Before you can even finish the thought, there's a hand around your ankle, and you lose your balance almost instantly, falling to the ground. You cry out helplessly, trying to flip yourself over so you can see your attacker, but the instant you catch sight of them, you almost wish you hadn't.

The hand around your ankle isn't a hand at all: it's a claw, with talons that make you wince in pain as they dig into your skin. The body is shaped like a human being—two arms and legs, a torso and a head, but it's covered almost completely in inky black feathers that branch out towards the shoulder blades and form two massive wings. How could you not have seen those before? The face would be human too, if not for the massive beak that protrudes from where you'd expect a nose and a mouth to be.

You were right before—it's definitely not human.

The being leans down and inhales the blood dripping down your leg. "Mmm...it's been ages since I've tasted a being from the Interior. I'll take the chief's seat in no time once I've devoured you."

You struggle in its grasp, but the talons only sink deeper into your flesh, and you cry out again. "Let go of me! What the hell are you?"

The hold on your ankle loosens for a brief moment. "You can see me, little one?"

You meet its eyes with a glare by way of answering, and it laughs as it carves further into your leg, causing you to scream out in pain this time.

"Oh, gods," it exclaims giddily, tugging you closer with the talons in your skin. "You're an Augur? Oh, I can't even imagine the kind of power I'll have once you're consumed." It leans down closer, its face mere inches from yours, and you take the moment to clench your fist and punch the thing's beak as hard as you possibly can. It emits a strangled shriek of pain, letting go of your leg for a brief moment—but that's all you need to scramble to your feet and start running again.

Or at least, you try to. You're much wobblier on your injured leg than you'd expected, but you have to try to escape. You have to. There's no way in hell you're just going to let this thing kill you without putting up a fight.

Your worst fear is realized once you hear the flapping of wings behind you—which also must have been how this thing got in front of you at the entrance to the Wilds in the first place—and it's mere seconds before it lands in front of you, already in a lunging stance to knock you back down.

"Excellent try, little one," it grins. "But it just looks like today's my lucky—"

The bird doesn't get to finish its sentence before something crashes into its side, tackling it to the ground and instantly wrestling with it in a blur of fur and feathers. Whatever this newcomer is, it's much faster—and the only time you can make out what's happening in their fight is when it sinks its teeth into the neck of the bird being, causing both to still.

For a brief moment you think it's a wolf, until it stands up, and you see that the fur on its back is a coat, likely skinned from the animal. It delivers a light kick to the side of the bird being to make sure it's not moving before turning to face you. "Now, then. How'd you get on the Koraki clan's..." It immediately trails off once you make eye contact, and you feel your throat grow dry as you meet its eyes. "...bad side."

Because what's standing before you is undoubtedly a man. No unusual appendages like wings or a beak—just a man with light hair, longer in the back than the front, in clothes much dressier than you would have worn to go out hiking in the Wilds. "Hey," he says, in a much gentler tone than before, although there's an whiff of suspicion in his tone. "You're not a deity, are you?"

You shake your head, at a loss for words.

"And you can see me?"

"Yes," you say, forcing yourself to say something. "I can see you."

"Oh, gods above," the man says, running a hand through his hair. "How the hell did you end up in the Citadel? I haven't seen one of your kind in years."

You frown. "The...what? Where is this?"

"You're in the Citadel," he says, as if that should be obvious. "The home of the deity clans."

"The deity clans?" you repeat slowly. "Then..."

He cuts you off before you can finish your thought. "Shit, you—you're actually human, aren't you?"

You nod, dread settling back into your chest.

A grim smile makes its way across his features. "Then you're stuck here, I'm afraid. You're in an entirely different realm, human girl—and I have no idea how to get you back."

[magicalgirlsandcerulean]

Fairy Ranmaru character profiles

No one seems to have tried to do more than Google Translate on these character profiles (as far as I know), so...might as well do it?

See the original profiles here. (They’re comprised of several images, so to be fast about it, I just indicated what colour each character is.)

Note:

May contain errors, as always.

Terms or entire chunks of these translations may be proven wrong as more is revealed about the series.

Ranmaru Ai (purple)

“Release the misfortune! Love! In full bloom! Saint of calamity from the clan of light Ranmaru, descending!”

Voiced by: Shogo Sakata

The saint of calamity from the clan of light.

Normally an absent-minded high school student.

It's not even known if he’s attending class.

Generally weak to darkness and suddenly disappears [...when in contact with darkness...? Hard to tell until we see it for sure, but ふらっと, which is translated as “suddenly” here, can also be translated as “aimlessly”, so he could just be wandering off without thinking much about it].

Absent-minded, but the number 1 saint of calamity from the clan of light from the world of the saints of calamity.

However, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of being so.

T/N: Ai (愛) means love, but Ranmaru’s surname is made of different characters to that. He’s purple because the ran means “orchid”.

T/N 2: Literally, the first word in Ranmaru’s transformation phrase is 禁忌 (kinki, taboo). As you’ll see, this part is shared by the other fairies.

T/N 3: “Saint of calamity” and “fairy” are both yousei, but with different characters.

T/N 4: 降臨 (kourin) can mean the arrival of an important person or the descent of a god. I chose to tweak the latter a bit.

////

“Release the misfortune! Love! Burning up! Saint of calamity from the clan of fire Homura, descending!”

Homura Hoterase (orange)

Voiced by: Kohsuke Tanabe

The saint of calamity from the clan of fire.

An aggressive high school student. 

Frequently fights with Uruu, who is his direct opposite.

He’s a guy who is as passionate as he looks.

T/N: 爆燃 (bakunen) means “deflagration”.

T/N 2: Hoterase includes the character for “to shine”.

T/N 3: In comparison to Boueibu’s Ryuu’s 炎 (honoo), Homura’s is 火焔 (kaen). Homura means “flame”, too.

T/N 4: オラオラ系 (oraora-kei) is either pushy, overbearing, self-assured or aggressive...so while I picked the latter, it could potentially be every meaning of this word.

////

“Release the misfortune! Love! In abundance! Saint of calamity from the clan of water Uruu, descending!”

Uruu Seiren (blue)

Voiced by: Yutaka Balletta

The saint of calamity from the clan of water.

The gentle-mannered student council president. Excels at everything.

Is always thinking of what should be right.

T/N: You’ll notice 潤沢 (juntaku, abundant, voluptuous, glossy) has 2 characters with the same radical (those marks on their left). That’s the water radical.

T/N 2: Apparently, 閏 (うるう/uruu) is an “embolation” or an “intercalation”. This is used to mark the phases of the moon or seasons. The tides are controlled by the moon, so...Also, if you take the water radical from 潤 (from 潤沢), you get 閏.

T/N 3: Seiren (セイレン) = siren...the mythological creature, often depicted as a mermaid. His surname is, again, made of different characters to this.

T/N 4: There’s a bit of wiggle room for 正しい (tadashii, translated as “right”) - like English, it can mean “just/lawful” or “correct”.

////

“Release the misfortune! Love! In profusion! Saint of calamity from the clan of nature, Juka, descending!”

Juka Mutsuoka (green)

Voiced by: Taichi Kusano

The saint of calamity from the clan of nature.

A little-brother-type high school student. Hates being called “cute”.

Wants to be called “cool”, instead of “cute”.

T/N: 繚乱 (ryouran) specifically tends to refer to flowers blooming profusely.

T/N 2: 卉樹 doesn’t seem to mean anything when put together, but the characters mean “grass” and “tree” individually and that with the “flower” connotation of ryouran was why I picked “nature” as a translation...It could just be “plants”, though.

T/N 3: Mutsu = earth (it can also be read “Riku”, like Idolish7′s Riku), oka = hill/knoll, ju = tree, ka = fruit.

////

“Release the misfortune! Love! Dazzling! Saint of calamity from the clan of metal, Takara, descending!”

Takara Utashiro (brown)

Voiced by: Akihiro Hori

The saint of calamity from the clan of metal.

The master of Bar “F”. Loves money.

Takes care of the others by making curry (every time).

(He can only make curry?)

T/N: The Japanese word for “money” also means “metal” or “gold” in certain contexts. Where it’s translated as “metal”, the character 鋼 (meaning “steel”) accompanies it.

T/N 2: Takara means “treasure”.

Update: Added a more logical explanation for how うるう was reached.

Update 2: Changed Homura’s phrase to better reflect the intended nuance.

[iwannaseeyainakia]

The Moonlight Circus

This was a story I was commissioned to write by an anonymous tumblr user. Thought it would be good to show my writing and see how it changes over time!

trigger warning: gore, smoking, religious and supernatural themes, death, minor profanity

The heel of Morgan’s boots clicked against the checkered flooring of the circus. She made her way to the center of the stage, her stride casual. She readjusted her gray beanie as she climbed up the steps. The plastic name tag below her collarbone wobbled with each step. The words “Moonlight Circus” in Courier New font rested above her first name.  The floor of the stage was filthy; ash and soot smeared into the once pristine black and white pattern. Her pale green eyes followed a line of ash leading to a rusted cast-iron cannon. The smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air.  

She exhaled softly, reached into the pocket of her ‘Metallica’ pullover, and pulled out a lavender lighter and a worn pack of Newport cigarettes. She yanked one out of the box and shoved it in her hoodie again. Her black bitten nails struggled to start a flame before she victoriously held it to her cigarette, finally lighting it. A pewter gray smog released from the very tip, emitting a bitter comforting scent. She lifted her hand to her face, the cig clenched between her middle and pointer finger. As the paper touched her pale lips, the once vermillion embers shifted to a startling violet and the musty gray smoke suddenly turned a mauve tone. Morgan took a long drag of the strange purple cigarette while taking in her surroundings.  

The massive tent surrounding her was a striped pattern of burgundy and eggshell white.  The fabric was contrastingly cleaner than the stage of the ‘Moonlight Circus.’ The seating for guests was discolored bleachers; the aluminum being stained and scratched away by years of usage and lack of cleanliness. Many hot dogs drenched in mustard and bags of popcorn must have been dropped on it. There were multiple stacked on either side of the tent. The elevated stage had an outer ring surrounded by dark crimson foam. A round indoor pool was 15 feet away from her, the bottom of the pool a dirty yellow tint. Scales and confetti floated at the surface of the tainted water. 

 Large LED stage lights were set up at the ceiling of the canvass. Each was about the size of a child and contained a lens of different hues. They dimly lit the stage white. The tent was held up by dozens of rods with a singular large black pole at the center. The fabric bunched together and pulled up; it looked almost as if the very top of the tent was a tunnel that led nowhere, the stripes creating a dizzying optical illusion.  

The circus itself was located in a cheap amusement park; the locals treasured this place. It was affordable and held plenty of memories dear to their hearts. The Moonlight Circus was the main event, the park's pièce de résistance if you will.  

They had crowds of people flood the show every day. Bright smiles beamed on the faces of children and content parents awaited a trip down memory lane, nostalgia a pleasant high. After all, who wouldn’t be entranced by real-life monsters? 

Morgan released a puff of amethyst smoke, gently laying the cigarette between her lips again and keeping it there. She proceeded to stuff her hands in her pockets before an elegant voice called out to her, disrupting her daze.  

“Are you ready for the next show Morgana?” The feminine voice was gentle and motherly. She spoke each word with a grace that held centuries of wisdom. Her thick French accent was gorgeous; her voice matched exactly how she appeared. Morgan casually turned around and sent the woman a closed smile. Guinevere was a being of beauty, a true spectacle to behold. She was a small woman, approximately 5’2, petite but with a stance that conveyed raw strength. Her billowing pitch-black gown strewn behind her as she sashayed her direction. Her arms gently swung at her hips, an opera-length cigarette holder between the dainty fingers of her left hand. The skin of said hand was a pale blue-gray. The center of the long pipe was a silver fading into an intense black; a cigarette burning blood red at the end of it. Morgan glanced at her long dark hair. It was bone straight and swung behind her waist. The fringe of her locks covered her right eye, but Morgan could still make out a piercing iris a startling shade of red.  

“Hey, Gwen. Yeah, pretty much. Is everyone in the dressing room right now?” She inquired as the monster woman stood in front of her. Gwen gripped the edge of her large ebony sunhat, cigarette holder still between her fingers. The brim of the apparel was big enough to cover most of her hauntingly beautiful face. Lace hung half an inch off the seams and thin royal purple sticks of dynamite adorned the outer ring. While the entire hat was an eye-catcher; a nod to her part in the circus, the true emphasis of the hat was the large skull littered with cracks and yellow stains from tobacco. 

“Yes, and they’re taking damn long if I do say so myself.” The skull quipped judgmentally. Morgan chuckled. Gwen was not so amused by her husband’s comment. 

“Hush Pierre. No need to be snippy.” Guinevere jutted her hip out and placed her right hand on it to convey her sass. The skull instead, haughtily laughed at his wife. She rolled her eyes but could not contain the fond smile that grew on her lips, exposing her sharp fangs.  Despite all the time that’s passed, she still couldn’t fight how easily Pierre made her grin ear to ear. “Don’t mind him, Morgana, we’d best be on our way to prepare.” Gwen gripped Morgan’s wrist and tugged her along in the direction of the dressing room. 

Guinevere was the owner of the Moonlight Circus. A wonderful boss indeed, she felt more like a friend she’d known all her life than her superior. She also was a woman with a dream: to unite humans and monsters through entertainment. Humans used to fear the supernatural, loath it with their very being, but in this day and age, they take great pleasure in the abnormalities of the differing species. Harmony is built in this circus; humans come for entertainment and to admire the beautiful, violent specters, and the monster women give it to them. Gwen, a vampire, found joy in making others happy with her performance and her performers. 

 She often sat with Morgan under the night sky, gazing at the stars with a fond expression, spilling her life story to her. 

As a young girl, Guinevere was dazzled by monster kind. Born human, she felt there was so much to be discovered in magic and mythology. She felt it a shame that humanity was so quick to turn a blind eye to something so beautiful due to its differences in appearance. Her inclination in performing arts made her dream of a world where she could use performance to change a deep-seeded ideal within the societal structure. She’d sit next to her window sill, eyes twinkling with delight, wishing upon stars that someday her dream would become reality.  

For a woman such as herself, an objective of that nature was unheard of; impossible even. Nonetheless, she persevered. She wanted to tell the world that as a woman she would create art like no other and she would make a change for the supernatural of all origins. With a cigar between her lips, she rolled up the sleeves of her dress and got to work. She specifically sought out other women of mythological backgrounds for her acts. By 1890, she’d created the “Moonlight Circus” with the help of supernatural people she’d met along the way. In a small corner of Paris, France, it stayed. Given that monsters were still looked down upon by mankind, they’d been spit on, leered at, and dismissed by the public. As decades passed without much luck, her hope slowly began to dwindle. 

Gwen spent many restless nights wandering the streets of Paris, desperately trying to spread word of the big top containing wonderous spectacles to no avail. Just as she was close to giving up an aspiration she’d clutched tight since childhood, an American traveling carnival approached her. The owner, a large man who was only ever seen adorning a velvet suit, believed there was promise in her bazaar. He saw something no one else but Guinevere considered possible: an opportunity for change. In a society where her family within the tent were nothing but social rejects, outcasts; they along with everyone like them could be so much more. The man, kinder than Gwen could have ever hoped, opened up about his beliefs and desire to have her circus as an attraction in his fair. And she accepted with insurmountable glee.  

So, a new chapter for the big top began. With this foreign carnival, she traveled and built up her crew from nothing but sheer will. She continued her exploration and found many monstrous beings with the same ideology to join as performers. Word soon got out of the fantastical bazaar that made its way around the world. As opinions of the inhuman began to evolve with new generations, so too did their desire to know more. And eventually, they had a crowd; an adoring audience astounded by the display of otherworldly figures. Now, the carnival has made its permanent home in New Mexico, USA, and the circus by extension.  

“Think it’ll be packed tonight, Gwen?” Morgan already knew the answer, but figured it would be polite to make small talk.  

“Yes, absolutely my dear.” Guinevere continued to drag her to a slit in the circus tent. She placed her cigarette holder between her lips and used her palm to gently spread the opening, revealing a backstage area. It was renovated to be a dressing room; gothic aesthetic to match the theme, for all the performers pre-show. It was a much smaller canopy structure installed into the side of the main show tent. Despite the ground being grassy terrain, the room itself was well done. Dark oak vanities covered the walls, steampunk and alternative costumes littered any free space, and makeup laid atop every flat surface.  The spherical bulbs lining the mirror of the vanities were all lit a dim white light, illuminating the room enough so it was not pitch black.  

Light chatter and giggles filled the room as everyone who performed in the circus continued to get ready. 

The first person to notice Morgan’s sudden appearance was Gwen’s daughter, Victoria. Her eyes instantly brightened and a large Cheshire grin grew to meet her eyes. Vicky’s poofy raven black dress bounced as she sprinted towards her. The ivory petticoat underneath made the lace skirt fuller and frilly. The undead theme seemed to run in the family; Vicky being the zombie to her mother's bloodsucker and her father's skeletal remains. Her skin and teeth were rotten and oozing. Her hair was almost floor-length, and unbelievably matted. The knots at the base of her skull were so large you could have mistaken them for golf balls wrapped inside her tresses. A pair of filthy copper goggles rested on her forehead, the lenses murky and caked in blood. Between her toothy smile was a large cigar. There was no way to pinpoint the brand, as it was only labeled with a strange rune Morgan had never seen before.  Apparently, she had been taking a drag from the cigar, because smoke began to leak out of the holes in her skin.

Vicky launched her small form into Morgan’s arms. Morgan struggled to grip her as the foul stench her rotten flesh emanated was near unbearable. Swallowing down an audible gag, she smiled at the little girl before placing her gently back onto the grass.  

“Morgan! You’re going to love my act tonight.” Victoria loudly claimed, holding her fists to her chest with a grin still plastered upon her lips. Morgan couldn’t help but return the expression. Vicky was a sweet girl. A demented undead one, but sweet nonetheless. “I’m sure I will, Vicky. You’ll kill it tonight.” She seemed to have chosen the right words, because Vicky’s grin only got wider as she bounced up and down, skirt floating with her movement. She made gestures referencing explosions and tried to explain how her act tonight would go, but her words were so jumbled they were not understandable in the slightest. Her enthusiasm continued to increase alongside her violent movements before her mother placed a hand on her small shoulder.  

“Now, now Victoria, you’re talking so fast no one can understand you, dear. She’ll get to see your performance soon anyway, so let's keep it a surprise.” Gwen chided her daughter sweetly. “Ok, mommy.” Vicky heeded her mother's words and scurried to the side to search for her favorite lighter, cigar bouncing between her decayed teeth.  Cigar smoke trailed behind her figure. Gwen shook her head at her daughter’s antics, gripping the cig holder between her lips to take in a puff of nicotine. 

Victoria was the product of forbidden love between Guinevere and Pierre, a formerly vampiric man she’d encountered while searching for spectacles to join her circus. The traveling carnival had traversed Europe and decided to take camp for a while in the French countryside. Gwen had been overjoyed to be in her mother country again. She languished in the smell of the air and the sounds of nature like music to her ears. On a particularly stormy night, a vampire man with hair as light as wheat and skin as pale as snow knocked at the door of her bedroom within a quaint little inn. She opened the door to see him drenched in rain. The revenant, Pierre, gave her a goofy smile and asked for a part in her monstrous sideshow. 

While puzzled, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Pierre and Guinevere grew close the more they worked at the fair together. They both had a passion for performing and magic. Romance blossomed; eventually, they eloped and she became pregnant. It was uncommon for vampires to conceive children, let alone with one of mankind. Guinevere was a woman of adventure and risk, so she took this new development in stride. In the excitement of her family growing larger, she decided to have Pierre turn her. Neither realized the possible problems that would arise from changing her into a vampire while bearing a child.  

And so, when Victoria was born, she was sickly and frail in every sense. Her genetics were corrupted by the change her mother took on while carrying her. Her personality, though, could be described as nothing but robust. Vicky as a toddler would often act as if she were not terminally ill; watching the acts in her mother’s circus with enraptured eyes, even participating in the choreography herself from time to time. 

Guinevere often spoke of a time in which Vicky had climbed into the cannon without anyone noticing and failed in trying to light it with one of her old cigars. She had rushed over in a panic, tearing her from the barrel before the flame grew closer. She checked over her body and, once assured she was not injured, inquired what she had been thinking. Victoria, the overzealous little girl she was, could only laugh with a large smile plastered on her face. “I wanted to fly mommy!”  

As she grew older, her body deteriorated. By age five she could barely walk. By six she couldn’t at all. At seven, she no longer had the energy to speak. At the young age of eight, she could only watch the performing women with a blank smile before she passed. For days they grieved over her. They left her cadaver laying on her satin bed sheets as she was before her death, in anguished hopes they could find a way to bring her back to them. After tirelessly searching for any form of necromancy that could revive her, Guinevere entered Victoria’s bedroom to adjust her as she did every day. Only to be startled by her daughter sitting upright and speaking to her.  

“Mommy, can I go play at the circus now?” Victoria bounced off the bed with newfound strength in her rotten limbs. Gwen could only rush to hug her baby who was with her once more. Undead, but with her despite everything. From that day on she allowed Victoria to become a full-time member of the bazaar. The human (zombie) cannonball. With a body that could be put back together, no working pain receptors, and a passion for explosives and theatrics, she fits the part flawlessly.  

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

The smaller tent was filled with a variety of supernatural women, the circus only having female staff. While most continued with their activities, some turned her direction and welcomed her. The parts in the circus were relatively small compared to most other acts, but the integration of monsters and mankind made up for it.  

Every single person handpicked by Guinevere herself, the cosmetologists, background musicians, and stage crew were all fairies. They each had varying sizes and shades of iridescent butterfly wings, and tight thigh-length dresses made from leaves and spider silk. While not as small as fae are typically depicted in human literature, they reached only about 3 feet and hovered above ground with a light flap of their appendages; they had the grace of hummingbirds. Faes are known for their artistic and musical capabilities. There were twenty-three pixies on set, all of them being gentle girls with a heart of gold. Their love of all life made them a wonderful asset to this circus promoting coexistence. Currently, they fluttered around tidying the room and freshening up the faces of the main performers.  

The ‘clowns’ of the act were all young shapeshifters. All fifteen of the women were from different cultures, shapeshifters being in a large majority of mythology; making them unique despite the similarities in capacities. Their abilities were used to shift them from playful clowns to dangerous animals to be used in other’s acts. While their personalities were all very different, each of them loved performing at the Moonlight Circus. Some spoke amongst themselves, shimmying into tight leotards and fixing their updos. A few of them, though, struggled to keep Victoria from swallowing handfuls of gunpowder. Especially with a lit cigar in her mouth.

“VICKY NO-” A wet splat hit the wall and a giggling head rolled at their feet. The shifters looked in disgust at their blood-stained clothes and scolded the decapitated head of the little girl. The others just laughed at the normally terrifying sight. 

 Morgana turned her eyes away, cringing internally, but knowing full well she’d be back on her feet in a few minutes. 

The main acts were very typical of a circus; the women enacting them were anything but. The designated tight rope walker was an Arachne woman named Magnolia. Her form was that of a tall human, her body could only be described as pear-shaped. Despite her form being humanoid, she had skin that was a smooth charcoal black and a spider abdomen attached to her lower back. The abdomen was a sunshine yellow covered in symmetrical white spots on either side. The pedicel connecting it to her body was the same tone as her skin. She also had eight spindly appendages protruding from the middle of her spine, each striped black and yellow. Magnolia had shoulder-length wavy hair a banana color with frayed strands of spider webs tangled within. Despite the frightening six extra eyes lining her temples, she was a kind eccentric woman. As the aerialist, the tightrope she walked during each performance was a magnificent braided rope made of her webbing. Magnolia was sitting on a cushioned stool, twisting her thread into a complicated bracelet, only glancing up to grace Morgan with a polite smile and greeting.  

Delane and Clio, however, wasted no time in rushing to make conversation with her. 

“Yo, Morgan! We’ve been looking for ya. Can you help me into this wetsuit?” Clio loudly proclaimed, simultaneously carrying her lover, Delane, in her arms bridal style. The duo is the aquatic performers of the show. Clio is a water nymph with connections to the Greek god Poseidon. She willingly took on a human female’s appearance, but that could not hide the divine aura that radiated off her very being. She had a lean build but still held all the strength a creature with holy connections such as herself should have. Her head was bare of hair and her ears pointed in an elf-like fashion. She stumbled around in a limp bedazzled wetsuit pulled up her hips halfway, the skin of her upper half an olive tan.  

“Seriously dude, I’m struggling here.” 

Delane was a mermaid, a perfect match to Clio’s Nereid. Her Prussian blue scaled tail hung limply over her girlfriend’s arm. The trawl half of her body closely resembled a koi fish. The caudal fin was long and thin, like fine silk flowing with the movements of Clio’s jerks. A dorsal fin ran down the back of it, getting smaller as it reached the end of her tail. She also had multiple pelvic fins running down the sides; the fins at the top were much larger than the ones at the end. They were all light cyan. The scales from her tail ran up her stomach, becoming much more scattered as they reached the dark skin of her breasts. Her hair was a short black pixie cut with a shaggy top, ending at the gills just below her chin.  

“Yeah, uh, maybe hurry before she drops me, please.” Delane nervously spoke. She wore a necklace composed of seashells and stones from the shore of her home, matching Clio’s own as a symbol of devotion between them. Together, they enacted a beautiful water-based act that captivated every audience we had.  

Morgan laughed at Clio’s predicament before moving to help her into the suit. Just as she got a grip on the neoprene material a strong voice halted them.  

“You could’ve just asked me, Clio. Here I got you.” Large calloused hands assisted her in her efforts. Morgan turned her head to Anastalia. Anastalia was the strong woman act of the circus. Like many of those hired here, a part of her resembled that of mankind, but she was very obviously not human. Her upper half was the build of a shredded woman: pulsing muscles, large bulging breasts, defined abs, intimidating biceps. She looked as if she was carved by the gods themselves. Her bottom half, while just as muscular, was that of a black stallion. Her four large hooves clapped against the ground in a deafening display and her dark tail broke the sound barrier like a whip. The hair atop her head was a dark brown with a sheen that made it glint in the light. Her long straight locks cascaded down the flesh of her shoulders a similar shade, reaching the small of her back.  

Anastalia peers up from the suit to bicker teasingly with Clio. She galloped gracefully in circles around them, admiring her handy work. “Eh, to be honest, I think it needs to be a bit bluer at the hips.” She quipped thoughtfully. Clio and Delane exchanged a glance and giggled in unison. Clio responded, “You’re one for detail, but let me tell ya, you don’t look it.” She lets out a boisterous laugh, keeling over slightly, causing Delane to screech in fear of being dropped and grip her shoulders tighter. Anastalia only rolled her eyes.  

“Har har, laugh it up, I’m not just a brute. I’m also an artist.” She struck a pose that had Clio cackling harder and Delane protesting louder. Morgan shared a laugh with them, her sides aching. Loud footsteps behind her turned her attention away for a moment. “C’mon Lanira, hurry!” Vicky, seemingly back to normal after spontaneously combusting, ran and jumped in a very abstract dance with her friend. Lanira, an incorporeal little girl resembling that of a cartoon witch floated around her at a much slower pace. “I’m going as fast as I can Vicky.” Lanira’s tone was much less enthusiastic. She had a slight cockney accent. 

Her dark flowing gown had no shape to it, more like a sack made of cotton. Her sleeves puffed out and tightened below her palms that gripped onto a translucent 19th-century broomstick underneath her. She twirled around with Victoria, who was still jumping around and flailing in her interpretative art form. Her wide-brimmed hat had a large peak at the top that dipped down at the very point. It was navy blue and held a wide variety of jewelry and trinkets that dangled down. Bits of cloth hung off the edge with pearls woven into it.  

Lanira had become a ghost after a ‘mishap’ with one of her spells backfiring. As the magician of the big top, she experimented with plenty of dangerous enchantments. One moment she was but a mangled corpse of a girl with crippling insomnia, and the next she was a spirit with large eyebags, continuing with her act as if death had not just occurred before everyone’s eyes. As the specter of a young talented sorceress, she must have expected this possible outcome and kept a few “tricks” up her sleeve. She kept with her act even after her untimely demise, even increasing the intensity now that death was no longer a possibility.  

Morgan took a long drag of her cigarette and continued to gaze in amusement. Lanira half-heartedly attempted to keep up with Victoria, the zombie child still lost in her own little world.  

“Alright, everyone! It’s time to get this show on the road once more, as they say.” Gwen chuckled at herself lightly. The room erupted in conversation and scrambling to get in costume in time. The pale woman approached her once more. “Will you please start allowing entry, dear?” She nodded at her, cig between her lips bobbing. “Of course.” She smiled and made her way out of the dressing room.  

The flap quietly closed behind her form as she made her way to her ticket booth. She could still hear the loud conversations and shuffling from inside the room. Her steps echoed throughout the stage. The entrance to the inside of the show floor was a large rectangular cut-out with a flap hanging to the side that could be zipped up. The outside of the tent was the same striped colors as the inside, illuminated by the setting sun. The tent performed almost all day, but their largest and most spectacular show was always right after the sunset. It was also the most packed of all their performances.  

The ticket booth was a wooden structure painted red and white. A gigantic sign in the shape of a ticket was placed on the roof displaying the name of the circus. It sat in front of a zig-zagging gate that led to the entrance. She opened the door and stepped inside, admiring the long line that had already formed. The crowd was a diverse amount of people. Some were singular people showing up alone for the show. Some were human couples on a date or parents with their ecstatic children bouncing with joy. There were even some couples that were interspecies; a human and a not-so-human person lovingly interlocked their hands.  

She opened the window of the booth and started accepting tickets from each person. One by one they approached the stall, handing in their crisp voucher, and making their way through the gates to pick up snack food and be seated. The sound of kids giggling and adults speaking with a grin in their voice was heartwarming. Memories were being made here time and time again; the atmosphere never changed. She never got tired of seeing happy faces coming to experience the wonders of the Moonlight Circus. A small crescent moon adorned each ticket that she received and stashed away in a box beside her.  

It took a good long while before each person who had previously bought a ticket was granted entry. She let out a sigh and sucked in some more smoke. She released a lilac cloud into the evening air. The sky was a dusty orange making way for the black of night. She continued to smoke while idly wondering if a storm was brewing. It seemed as if their best shows were when it was pouring rain and thunder broke through the cheers. The sound of Guinevere’s muffled voice over a speaker broke through the silence she’d been basking in.  

“Ladies and gentlemen! I thank you for coming to see our fantastical performers tonight! We hope to amaze you just as every crowd before.” Her words were a cue for Morgana. She laid the cigarette between her lips once more and strode her way into the tent. The tips of her fingers graced over the edge of the tent fabric for a split second. The control panels for the lighting were tucked into another miniature tent attached to the side of the main structure. She could see the sprites flying above and moving the large spotlight from the cameras beside the panels to follow Gwen’s moving figure. The stark white luminescence made her look more ethereal than before.  She continued on, cigarette holder still wedged between her thin lips. 

“We have an awe-inspiring act for you all!”  

“This beautiful lady here did most of the work.”  

Her husband quickly added to her dialogue. “Hush my love.” The crowd quietly chuckled.  

“It’s true.”  

“Pierre!” 

“Sorry, sorry!”  

The audience roared with more laughter.  

Under the dim lighting of the rest of the stage, she could make out the two fluffy skirts of the little girls waiting for their first part in the choreography. One was fidgeting and prancing around in the dark, not only disguised by the lack of light but the cloud from her cigar. The other floated just above the ground, flying around the other body in circles. Morgan placed her fingertips on the switches and pushed them up very slightly. The area brightened enough for the stage to be somewhat visible but kept the two hidden from their awaiting audience.  

“Each of our performers is a woman with grace, power, and most of all, a love for their part here.”  

Recovering from her husband's unethical interruption, she made her way up to the round platform on the stage. The spotlight followed in sync. She turned suddenly to face the stands, her skirt twirling above her feet.  

“We give you our best and only our best!” Gwen spoke into the microphone with glee, her visible scarlet eye piercing the crowd. “The Moonlight Circus has been our pride and joy for many decades. Tonight, we strive to show you exactly why!” She gave them a beautiful motherly smile.  

“Now please.” 

“Stay seated and enjoy the show!” She and the skull of her husband atop her head spoke in unison. She extended one arm behind her, bent the other in front of her middle and bowed.  

“Hey, hey! Careful please!” Pierre screamed as he slipped down slightly. The audience responded with laughter as before. The spotlight shut off and the stage was dim once again, other than the shine of Guinevere’s red cigarette. The crowd went silent. Her footsteps echoed on a different part of the stage. She could very faintly make out dainty shoes running up the steps and hopping into the cannon. One of the two figures was missing from their spot to the side. 

Morgan’s fingers danced on the panel, letting excitement coarse through her. She couldn’t fight the adrenaline rush before each performance commenced. She hadn’t been working there for more than two years, but this circus had become her family. Her home. Each person here has proven to her that the impossible is only so if you believe it is. And each show was a testament to how far they’d come. This circus act alone has been a large part of the progression that’s been made between the supernatural world and human society. They’re more than just a tent of sideshow freaks; they’re artists embracing their bodies and talents to better their lives, and many others.  

She grips the lever with resolve. She knows that to an outsider they may be passing entertainment. But that was progress by itself. This place is a part of her now. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Morgana pushed the handle forward. It clicked in place. The stage lights flicked on in a magnificent spectrum of colors. Gwen’s right hand is extended to the wick of the cannon, holder lighting the end. Her daughter’s tangled mane of hair is just barely visible from the lip. A deafening boom shatters the atmosphere and the show begins.  

[anncanta]

The imagery of BBC ‘Dracula’: mythology, alchemy, literature

The more I watch the BBC and Netflix Dracula, the more interesting details and nuances I notice. And now they have formed a new picture, which I would like to share with you.

For the convenience of consideration and analysis, I propose to divide the images and symbols used in Dracula into several large groups.

The first group is mythological images and symbols. This is the most archaic metaphor, and for this story, it has enormous significance. On it, as on a foundation, the entire basic narrative of the film is built.

The second group is alchemical images. They represent the plot, semantic level at which events unfold. It is here the very ‘metaphysical detective story’ arises and develops, which some viewers and critics talk about, reflecting on the genre nature of the film.

And finally, the third – the group of the ‘youngest’ – images of literature. It is a kind of crystal lattice, a narrative framework that holds the whole structure. Without a mythological level, the story will not have a basic ‘leaven’, matter, in the original meaning ‘mother’, ‘material’, in the sense of ‘body’, ‘flesh’, ‘reality’. Without the alchemical one, it would lack the drama, in the meaning of the unfolding process – from the appearance of this very matter in the crucible to the creation of the philosopher's stone. And the level of literature allows you to reflect on this process and make it conscious, appropriating it as a part of psychological reality.

Let's consider each of these levels sequentially and try to see how they relate to each other and what context they all create together.

Mythology

We start with mythology, not only because it is a basic level, but also because the very structure of Dracula inclines to it. The story, which began in a Transylvanian castle, grows from a completely mythological, archaic root, develops as a half-tale detective drama, and ends in the genre of a modern psychological novel. Yes, with elements of a fairy tale and mysticism, but it is based (in the third episode) on a modern novelistic narrative.

In the first episode, we have a gothic tale based on myth and legends so old that, probably, no one can reliably determine their age. And just as old are the images that this myth uses.

We will not consider every single one of them – this would take much more time and space than this article suggests – we will focus only on the main ones.

There are several of them. Forest, castle, mirror, needle, sun.

Forest

A forest as an image and symbol in mythology means a place that belongs to another world. In contrast to the rational and ordered world of everyday reality known to us, it represents the mysterious, incomprehensible, enigmatic, strange, confusing, irrational.

Even before we meet with Dracula, before the very beginning of the story arises, together with Jonathan Harker we find ourselves in the forest – being left there. This is very important, since it draws a line between the everyday world from which Jonathan comes and the magical world, immediately involving the viewer and the character in the initiation situation. Let us recall the fairy tales describing pictures of the same series: a stepdaughter sent by her stepmother into the forest for snowdrops in the middle of winter, children whom their parents took to the forest and thrown there, a hero forced to travel through the forest in order to achieve the desired goal.

It is worth noting here that Jonathan, as a normal child of the rational nineteenth century, at first does not perceive what is happening to him like something out of the ordinary. The forest does not seem scary to him, he sees no problem in getting out of the carriage, knee-deep in the snow among the trees, waiting for the Count's driver. It seems uncomfortable to him, that's all. And only the persistence of the girl convincing Jonathan to take the crucifix causes something like a vague alarm.

This behavior of Jonathan is both a tribute to the literary basis – B. Stoker's novel, written in an era when rationality and the power of reason were valued higher than magic and miracles (pushed aside by the collective psyche into the field of ‘peasant tales’ and superstitions), and typical for such story is the position of a hero who is not aware of the seriousness of the situation in which he found himself.

But back to the forest.

The space of the forest in fairy tales and myths can appear as a transitional one – a gateway to another world, a path to an antagonist (an evil sorcerer, an ancient scary creature, a dark king), or as an endpoint, where transformation takes place.

In our case, the forest is a path, a kind of bridge connecting Jonathan's past with his future.

Like most heroes, Harker took this path, not of his own free will (the owner of the company sent him to make a deal with Dracula in Transylvania), and in order to pass through it and at least get to the castle, Jonathan needs someone else – someone to guide and push him.

At this point, along with the Count's charioteer, one of the most famous devices in British literature appears in the text – a literalized metaphor. ‘Driver’ not only means a chauffeur. It is also an engine that makes something or someone work, move forward.

A roll call with this scene and repeated mentions in the first episode of the word ‘driver’ a dialogue between Dracula and Zoe in the third one sounds: ‘You`re fast, you`re clever. Driven. But driven by what?’. ‘Driven’ here means ‘motivated’, ‘carried away’, ‘captured’.

Unlike Zoe, Jonathan is not captured by anything. He simply travels by the direction of his employer to Transylvania to do his duty. By the way, pay attention, the driver delivers Jonathan to the castle but refuses to help him further. The driver`s function is now exhausted.

At the same time, already by the movement of Jonathan through the forest, one can understand that not just an adventure awaits the character, but an adventure in a fairy-tale sense.

Remember how he rides in the carriage, reading the letter of his beloved, and how her image appears with a golden reflection above the trees, reviving and warming Johnny's soul and the winter forest frozen under the snow. In the letter, Mina lists all their friends and acquaintances, assures Jonathan of her love, and expresses the hope that her feelings are mutual. Thus, we see a person who enters the space of initiation, accompanied by the feminine side of his soul, and, stopping at the threshold, internally goes over his thoughts and feelings, considering his past life. That is why he needs a path through the forest. For this, he was left in the glade and made to wait for the charioteer. This is where the place of altered consciousness begins. And here completely different rules apply, not those that work in the ordinary world.

Castle

Unlike the forest, which represents the space of a natural, uncontrollable, and absolutely irrational element, the castle is the creation of a human. Moreover, as we know from the words of Dracula, in this case, it is the creation of a brilliant artist, and it has two very specific meanings, directly stated in the text: a monument to lost love and prison without locks.

Specified at the very beginning, these two values ​​immediately set the coordinate system in which the story of Dracula and Jonathan will unfold.

That's right – the story of Dracula and Jonathan, I did not make a reservation. Those who see a romantic line in their interaction are right. Another thing is that this romantic line, like everything in this film, differs from the love stories we are used to and sets completely different goals and objectives for the characters.

Look, what we have here? An ancient castle in which a mysterious Count lives, who looks like a barely breathing old man, and in which some strange creatures also live, seemingly in need of help. I have already spoken about the meaning of these images in the article ‘Dracula BBC as an alchemical novel’, and those who wish can refer to it for details. For this one, something else is important.

Why didn't Jonathan leave? Clearly, he got lost in the castle, the castle is arranged like a labyrinth, moreover, the night creatures wandering along the corridors were clearly teasing and confusing Harker, forcing him to plunge deeper and deeper into the bowels of the ancient structure and his own altered consciousness.

And this is the most important thing. When Agatha tells Jonathan that he is an extremely brave man, it is not only about the fact that he remained in a castle full of dangers, because he knew that there was someone who was begging him for help, but also that Jonathan had the courage to remain in the sealed reality of the castle, alone with his fears.

It is what allows him to stay alive for so long, what does not allow him to surrender, what arouses Dracula's interest and creates this strange tension between them, poorly understanding one another, but intuitively reaching out to each other.

This is not about romantic love, not about desire as such – Jonathan loves Mina, and no one is able to take her place in his heart – and Dracula still does not understand at all what it means to love. This is different. In a certain, almost inconceivable way, the deeper Jonathan goes into the castle, the lower he descends and the less physical strength he has, the more stubborn and bright his spirit becomes. At the level of the image, this at some point is shown literally, almost head-on – remember the scene after the attack of the vampire girl in the basement, when Jonathan wakes up. His face and figure, his entire appearance almost literally reproduce the image from the painting The body of the dead Christ in the tomb

by Hans Holbein the Younger (according to legend, by the way, the model for body of Jesus, painted on it, was the body of a drowned man found in the Rhine). In this episode, the story openly shows us what Johnny is for – given everything we've seen so far and the structure of the text. Jonathan went downstairs to the hell arranged by Dracula in his basement (inside the Count himself), faced a lost soul there, died, and returned to life.

It was not in vain that Dracula begged Jonathan to stay. Johnny is his guide, his key to life, to real life, and not to the one that the Count lived all this time, hiding in a castle and feeding on scraps of other people's stories. Inside this dark reality, Jonathan is a light that dies and is born to give new life. This is the mythological side of his role in the life of Dracula, and such is it when viewed from the side of the Count.

And this is where some completely incredible thing begins. A vampire who lives in darkness and must love darkness, who almost killed Jonathan and, according to Harker himself, took everything from him, takes him in his arms, and carries him upstairs.

They had just been in hell, at the lowest point, in death itself, or, rather, in a nightmare about it shared by two – do you think that Dracula is the only one here who is afraid of death? They fought and tortured each other, and reached the limit. And from there, below, there was only one way.

I don't think Dracula knows what he is doing when he carries Johnny to the roof. But the fact remains – they end up there, and the Count practically asks Jonathan to be his eyes and tell him what the sun looks like. This scene, both dramatic and ironic, plays with all shades of thoughts and feelings, and in it the emphasis shifts again, and Jonathan becomes the leader.

In this episode, the visual component is extremely important. Downstairs in the basement, Jonathan was in the form of the dead Christ, the sacrifice made, tortured and betrayed, forsaken and trampled. On the roof of the castle, at its highest point, rising and refusing to serve Dracula, refusing to be his puppet, standing on the parapet facing him, ready to jump, in the rays of the sun, he looks like an image (literally – an icon) of a savior in the light of glory.

The gold mark from the cross reflecting the sun is not a striking mark, but a hand placed on the forehead. Only Dracula doesn't know it yet.

But they have already passed this part of the way.

Part 2.

[deuynndoodles]

read on ao3 or click read more!

suspicion increase by deuynndrabbles and @whimsicalweast

Dipper pulls out the paper in his pocket, unfurls it, and shows the paper to the black-haired boy.

“Ever heard of this ghost?”

He immediately blinks at the ghost on the paper.

“I might’ve heard of him,” he finally says.

(There’s a new ghost showing his face in Gravity Falls, and the twins have resolved to find him and find out if he’s malevolent or benevolent. At least that black-haired boy named “Danny” has offered to help them find this strange elusive ghost, unlike any they’ve seen before.)

3.2k | ch. one

Dipper wakes up to an irritating beeping.

He’s immediately awake, and he rises to check where it’s coming from. The brunet easily finds it’s coming from the supernatural equipment Ford brought along, due to the fact they’re camping in the supernatural forest.

Looking to Mabel, he finds she’s still fast asleep. She’s drooling onto her cat pillow, headband resting on the ground beside her rainbow sleeping bag. Her hair is all askew due to this, even messier than it is during the day. Mabel is still wearing a sweater, this one a pale green with a blonde puppy on the front.

Dipper rummages through his bag and pulls out the source of the incessant beeping.

Dipper blinks in surprise when the screen turns on, despite the faint yellow glow. He squints as his eyes adjust, and there are two blaring words at the top of the screen-

‘GHOST NEARBY.’

The device beeps for a second, before displaying a radar. There’s a huge white dot about half a mile away (he doesn’t know for sure, he’s just guessing) and various smaller dots that are more faded.

He sits and pauses, considering his options. On one hand, there’s a big chance for family bonding with Great Uncle Ford and searching for the supposed ghosts. After all, it is the reason they are here. (Aside from camping, Mabel insisted on that part.) He eyes his dead-asleep (ha) great-uncle, sleeping in the tent next to them through the bug screen.

Ford’s been swamped with work the entire week, and this camping trip is a possible getaway from everything. (Seriously, Mabel insisted.) It’s been the first night that Dipper’s actually seen the man get some shut-eye. Between running the Mystery Shack (Soos couldn’t be trusted with the financials), travelling with Stan, and dealing with magical/supernatural entities, Ford has enough on his plate already.

So Dipper decides to let Ford sleep.

Dipper bites his lip in concentration and checks the noisy device once more, the strength meter bouncing between level one and two. Dipper nods to himself in confirmation, as if to solidify his decision.

Surely, he can take care of a level two ghost on his own.

A sudden worry strikes him, the idea that Ford will be upset with him for going out on his own. That he’ll be upset that he misses this opportunity.

But then another thought follows this, and it’s the reminder that Ford needs his sleep. It’s better for one person to research than not exploring the ghost at all.

Besides, they’re bound to find more interesting spirits on this camping trip. It’s several days long. There'll be more interesting ghosts rather than a plain old stray level 2 wandering the area. There'll be more exciting discoveries to have together.

Throwing on his trusty blue-and-white snapback and his navy blue vest, he snatches his bag filled to the brim with ghost hunting equipment and heaves it onto his back.

Dipper turns his head to glance at his twin sister again, who has turned into her sleep and is now facing away from him. Her snores fill the tent, and he gives a slight smile and unzips the tent open.

Stepping out, he zips the tent shut and pulls a flashlight out of the bag, clicking it on and letting the beeping machine in his right hand lead the way into the nearly pitch black darkness.

Fallen leaves and twigs crunch underneath his sneakers, the moonlight barely making it through the canopy of leaves above. It makes it so the only possible light Dipper has is the faint light from the spectral device and his bright flashlight.

Despite this, he paves his way forward nervously, wary of knobby roots sticking out from overgrown shrubbery and and leaves he could possibly trip on.

It feels like Dipper walks forever, but the tracker says he hasn’t gotten any closer to his destination. Despite this, he will not give in.

A gust of wind rattles the brittle branches above his head and Dipper curls in slightly in on himself, regretting not having grabbed a thicker coat.

A shiver runs down his spine, and he’s not sure if it’s fear or just general chill.

A branch snaps somewhere behind him and Dipper spins around reflexively, brandishing his flashlight. (He’s not quite sure if it’s that effective, unless it’s some kind of mythological creature that has a weakness to light. He doesn’t stop, if only to relieve himself.)

His grip tightens around the ghost tracker in his hand, wary eyes jerking around along with the beam of light from the flashlight.

Dipper can hear nothing but the racing of his own heartbeat, the uneven breaths he takes in, and the steady beeping of the device in his hand; he does not let his guard down. The young teen takes in a deep breath, attempting to even his diaphragm. His eyes sweep the landscape, but he sees nothing.

He narrows his eyes at the lack of activity. It’s fairly odd, but he is in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night, so some things can be forgiven.

Instead of relying on sight, Dipper turns to the machine in his right hand for guidance. It continues to beep incessantly, remaining as before with the exact same words plastered at the top and the radar showing an ectoplasmic entity in front of him. The only difference he finds the white dot is closer, and the level counter toward the bottom of the screen is higher.

…

Wait, what?

Dipper does a double-take, but the screen does not change. What used to be a ghost around level two is now a staggering level five, and continues to steadily rise.

Dread pools in Dipper’s gut. He jerks his head back and forth, starting to panic, searching the landscape for the ghost as the white noise of the beeping suddenly is no longer white noise and is it speeding up? Great Uncle Ford talked about this to him, but for the life of him he can’t recall what it means. The sound grows louder and it’s starting to grate on his ears, and he shoves the device in his pocket and sticks the flashlight in his mouth, using his now free hands to cover his ears.

Dipper takes a breath to calm the rising fear inside his chest, but it isn’t effective.

There’s an abrupt cacophony from behind him, making him jump. He turns to the bag hanging off his shoulder frantically and finds that every possible instrument contained in the fabric was going off. Chimes, bird tweets, beeping, you name it.

(As he shoves a hand into the bag and attempts to silence the racket, Dipper fails to notice the device settled in his pocket is beeping even more rapidly and signals a presence higher than a possible limit on the screen.)

As if things can’t get any worse, he finds the bulb in his flashlight sparking and then dying right then and there.

And then there’s silence.

It fills him with dread incomparable to what he felt before.

Dipper’s breath catches for not the first time that night, and he freezes as he realizes there is no sound at all.

The silence presses on his ears, and he attempts to fill it by hitting the side of the flashlight with the heel of his palm, pretending his terror is nonexistent. The sound is a quiet whump and he cries to himself, trying to make it work.

It doesn’t, and instead, the echo of Dipper’s failed attempts sound in the pitch-black clearing (is it a clearing? He can only guess due to the fact he hasn’t stumbled into a tree yet). The newfound hush that’s fallen over the forest like a cozy blanket does nothing to help his nerves.

In fact, it makes him much, much more nervous.

Dipper isn’t sure how long it takes until the flashlight fizzles back into view, and he lets out a sigh of indescribable belief.

He reaches into his pocket and grabs the device, and the screen graces him with an entirely blank black canvas.

Dipper furrows his brow, his terror forgotten for a split second before the implications sink in. It means the ghost is gone, which does mean that he doesn’t get the chance to catch it and his efforts were in vain. And all he gets is a bag of broken machines. But it also means that he can actually head back to the tent, so he’s happy about that.

(Ford will be disappointed in him.)

He sighs and kicks a rock illuminated by the dim light of his flashlight, turning his head and starts to head back.

Wait a minute.

Which direction is the campsite again?

Dipper freezes, his hand going slack and the light pointing straight down at the ground.

There’s a crack from behind and he whirls around, meeting eyes with a pale black-haired boy, his blue eyes reflecting the light directed at him.

“Oh, uh. Hi?”

There’s a split second, and Dipper opens his mouth. (No, Dipper did not scream. And even if he did, it was incredibly manly, thank you very much.)

-

Danny stands awkwardly in the middle of a forest, in his ghost form, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. To be honest, he isn’t quite sure of how he got here. Just a few seconds ago he was flying through the Zone on a visit to the Far Frozen.

He can only assume that a natural portal popped up right as he passed into it. But for now, he’s just currently stuck in a place he doesn’t know.

He takes to the air, getting a good view of the landscape. The night sky is splattered with stars, and he smiles at the pretty sight.

Danny decides to sit on one of the taller trees, taking a spot on a higher branch and he watches the moon. He does this for who knows how long.

At least, he does until the branch cracks from his weight.

Danny knows he’s fairly light, in both human and ghost form. He isn’t sure how the branch broke, but it did and now he’s hurtling to the ground.

As he lands, he turns human in a wave of warmth and light. It’s unbidden, and he flicks some stray dirt off his t-shirt and licks his scratches. Danny steps out of the bush and belatedly realizes the world around him has gone quiet.

There’s a boy in front of him, having whirled around and the flashlight in his hands is directed straight into Danny’s eyes.

He looks fairly young, his huge blue-and-white pine cap dwarfing the rest of his body. Fluffy brown hair sticks out, partially covering his freckled face and wide hazelnut eyes stare at him gawkingly.

“Oh, uh. Hi?”

And the boy screams like a little girl.

-

Dipper isn’t quite sure what he expected, but brandishing a flashlight like a weapon at a teenager rubbing the back of his neck is definitely not it.

He only sees a hint of black hair and pale skin for a split second, before his brain catches up and tells him to put down his flashlight.

“So, what brings ya out here?” The boy says to Dipper, and he tries to calm himself by taking in a deep breath. (It doesn’t work, he should’ve expected that.)

“That’s something I should be asking you,” he says defensively, pretending as though he didn’t scream.

Dipper hears a quiet chuckle. “I came out here to stargaze, pretty much. Then the time flew by. Time flies when you’re majestically falling out of trees.” The last sentence is said confidently, but it only makes Dipper more uncomfortable.

“Yeah, sure,” Dipper says under his breath. He still doesn’t quite trust this stranger.

“Still though,” the teen says, and Dipper can imagine him looking to the side casually. “Why are you out here by yourself, kiddo?”

(Dipper wants to bark back “You’re a kiddo too” but finds that he doesn’t have the words. You can’t exactly say, “Oh yeah, just snuck out in the middle of the night to find a ghost only to get lost in the woods. No biggie.”)

So instead, he replies hastily with, “I came out here for a walk. Couldn’t sleep.”

(It’s the truth, just not the whole truth. But the other teenager doesn’t need to know that.)

The teenager lets out a sudden laugh. “Yeah, I get’cha.” He pauses before he says, “I like to, uh, take walks too. In the middle of the night. Yeah.” It’s said quite uncertainly, and Dipper raises his brow.

(Danny can see the kid raise his brow at his suspicious wording and almost sweats nervously. Thankfully the kid can’t see him so he’ll get away with it.)

“Anyways, it’s getting dark.” The teen says in a by-the-way tone of voice.

No shit, sherlock. It’s been dark for a while.

“You should be getting home. I mean, I should too, but yeah. Your family might get worried if they can’t find you in the morning.” (A little bit of his Phantom persona seems to be seeping in.) “I dunno if it’s just me, but kids back home aren’t too happy to stay out this late without a friend, at least.”

Dipper isn’t sure what the boy says next, as it’s muttered under his breath. (But is it just him going crazy, or was that something about ghosts?)

Dipper casts his eyes to the ground, his flashlight following. “I don’t really remember where I was,” he finds himself saying. As he says this, he bites his lip lest he say more. He grips the strap across his chest a little tighter.

“Ah, d’ya want some help getting back, then?” His tone is genuinely friendly, and it only adds to Dipper’s initial embarrassment.

The brunet almost declines the offer but then realizes he likely has a better chance getting back with someone who knew the woods rather than roughing it alone with no guide. His ghost hunting device sits heavily in his pocket, as a reminder of how he has no other way to get back.

After all, the idea of being left to fend for himself in the pitch black night, his flashlight possibly breaking again. . . it isn’t very appealing. He could stray further from the campsite, or even die.

“Okay.” Dipper nods in confirmation, knowing he won’t see it, but it makes him feel better so he still does it.

Somehow, they find themselves walking through a forest, with the occasional tweet tweet of a bird calling out. Morning must be approaching soon, as the sky dyes a deep indigo rather than pitch black. Both of them are silent.

(Danny finds the silence awkward, and he glances up at the open expanse above him. He’s briefly reminded of the peace just a few hours before of staring at the stars, and then attempts to strike up a conversation. It makes things easier when they walk out into a clearing.)

“You see that really bright star?” he asks, and Dipper nods out of courtesy. “That’s actually several stars, it just looks like one because of where we are in space right now.” He smiles, and pulls his hand down. “It’s actually my favorite. I just like the message it has in astrology.”

Dipper doesn’t really study the topic of space, but he can still admit it’s fascinating. And seeing the teen beside him speak so highly of the topic makes him want to research it later. He makes a mental note to ask Great Uncle Ford about the concept of space.

“Oh look! You probably know this one already, but that’s the Big Dipper,” the stranger mentions, and Dipper looks away.

“Yeah, I know about it.” Dipper doesn’t elaborate. Silently, discreetly, he brushes a hair out of his face. Danny remains silent before pointing out another star.

This is how the conversation goes until Dipper steps into a clearing, his flashlight illuminating two twin tents. He can hear his sister snoring, and he knows he’s back.

He gives out a relieved sigh. Dipper gives the boy a quick “thank you” out of obligation, and then realizes he’s forgotten something. He turns to ask the boy for his name.

There's nobody there.

Dipper blinks, and then he sees a light above the trees. The glow reminds him of a ghost, and he squints up at it.

It is a ghost, that’s for sure. It seems to wear a black jumpsuit, with snow white hair. But the most startling thing? Its glowing, acidic neon green eyes.

Dipper blinks again, and it’s gone.

-

Dipper is manning the register and Mabel is sitting on the floor, finishing sticking glitter all over Waddles with a huge grin on her face.

He spreads a paper over the counter, eyeing the ghost depicted on it (the one he saw last week). “Ugh, this is one elusive ghost.”

There’s a sound, and Dipper raises his head to stare at a vaguely familiar looking boy. His hands are shoved into the pockets of baggy jeans, and his scruffy black hair falls into his face. It doesn’t hide his expression, but Dipper can’t quite identify it so he leaves it.

“Did you say ghosts?” The teen asks, tilting his head slightly.

“What about it?” He says, rolling up the paper and stashing it away in his pocket.

The brunet looks off to the side and fiddles with the fold on his pocket. “I dunno, my parents are ghost hunters. S’kinda hard not to learn a thing or two 'bout them, so I might be able to help.

(Danny weighs over the words and finally decides on sharing that minor detail. It’s not like he’s sharing their surname after all.

It doesn’t take away from the fact the words feel awkward in his mouth, because he’s spent his whole life denying his parents believed in the impossible. Now, he’s the impossible, and he can’t really say no to them anymore. But he doesn’t stop denying his parents.)

Mabel pops into Dipper’s realm of sight, and before he can make a gesture to stop, she grins and immediately says, “Yeah! That’d be awesome!” Her grin is even wider, which seems almost impossible, but she’s done much odder things. (Like that time she made several clones of herself to naysay his own self. That was odd.)

“Mabel!” He scolds. “You’ve never even seen this guy before!” He can’t exactly say the same for himself, as he’s still struggling to place where he knows the teen from.

Mabel leans over and shields her mouth to whisper to him. “Exactly. Ain’t he cute?”

“You can’t just try and kiss every boy you think is cute,” Dipper groans. He speaks the next sentence louder. “Yeah, sure. We’ll take any help we can get.”

Dipper pulls out the paper in his pocket, unfurls it, and shows the paper to the black-haired boy.

“Ever heard of this ghost?”

The teen immediately blinks at the ghost on the paper.

“I might’ve heard of him,” he finally says.

[raeynbowboi]

Dating Disney: The Black Cauldron

The Black Cauldron is a 1985 Grimdark fantasy movie based primarily on the first two novels of the Chronicles of Prydain series by Lloyd Alexander written between 1964-1968. A primary reference and inspiration behind the series being the Mabinogion, a collection of early Celtic myths written in Middle Welsh. The character names also follow a Welsh naming conventions as Fflewdder Fflam uses the “Double F” found in the Welsh language, as a single F by itself makes a [v] sound in the Welsh language. The name Taran is also Welsh, meaning Thunder. So the movie is very neatly rooted in Wales, or Welsh-speaking Albion.

The Mabinogion

The Mabinogion is comprised of 4 main branches recounting Welsh mythology, compiled in the late 12th-13th centuries based on older oral traditions likely dating back to some time between 1050-1225. However, there are many suggestions as to when the stories might date from. (To hear a story from the Mabinogion, check out Red’s summary of Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed.)

Now, you may be wondering “why is there only 1 book on all Welsh mythology?” and I’m glad you hypothetically asked because it’s time to blame the Christians. Seriously, because Celtic mythology is loaded with god-like figures, Christian interpreters when they came to Albion censored or outright destroyed stories that implied that there was more than their God. Figures such as the Irish Tuatha de Dannan, which were godlike ancestral figures, had to be recontexualized as Faeries, Spirits, or Angels in order to avoid censorship by the Christian monks who transcribed these myths. Brigid, a very important Irish goddess, was Christianized into the figure of Saint Bridgette. This was actually an attempt by Christian missionaries to ease the pagans into Christianity. Essentially the mindset of “yeah, you can worship your holy figures, but uh, cut it out with the holy divine aspect. We can’t have that. They’re clearly not as top tier as our God.” 

You may remember from my Sword in the Stone discussion that I mentioned that Rome occupied Albion before Christianity wormed its way in, and you may be wondering, were the Romans this bad? Haha, clearly you underestimate how awful medieval Christians were. No, the Romans just viewed foreign pantheons as extensions of their pantheon. You have a sun god? So do we. It must be the same god with a different name. This is what’s referred to as Interpretatio Romana. So the Celtic Sun God Belenus would be referred to by the Romans as Apollo Belenus. It’s the same god, but the Roman name always came first. Compared to what is known as Interpretatio Christiana, which boils down to ‘you’re worshiping Satan in the form of a false idol. Stop that.’ So, when I say that our lack of written accounts of Welsh mythology is entirely the fault of the Christians, I’m completely sincere in that statement because the Romans didn’t censor Celtic myths or history, only the Christians did.

The Black Cauldron and Mythological Parallels

Prydain

It might sound like a generic fantasy name, but the name Prydain actually comes from the Welsh name for Great Britain, Prydain Fawr. Unfortunately, the term Great Britain dates to 1707. However, Prydain is also the medieval name for the island, as the Welsh never referred to the Island as Albion.

Henwen

Literally meaning “Old White” in Welsh, Henwen is a sow under the care of Coll, a pigkeeper for Dallwyr Dallben. In the Chronicles of Prydain, Coll is a character, but in the Disney film, Taran seems to have absorbed Coll’s role as pigkeeper. However, the fact that he refers to himself as an assistant pigkeeper could still mean that he is ranked below an off-screen Coll. However, the Henwen of Welsh mythology could not predict the future. It was known that Henwen was to birth something terrible, and so she was chased off a cliff into the sea in Cornwall. She survived however and went on to give birth to many unusual things, including a cat, a wolf, an eagle, and a single grain each of wheat, rye, and barley. And three bees. I really wish I was making this up.

Gurgi

Gurgi’s name might take inspiration from Gwrgi Garwlwyd, whose name literally means man-dog rough-grey. He was a warrior in Welsh Arthurian Legend, and was possibly a werewolf. Gwrgi was a monster that killed a man every day, and two on Saturday so he would not kill on Sunday. The Gurgi in the books is far more monstrous looking with horns, but Gurgi in the Disney film retains the dog-like traits of Gwrgi.

The Black Cauldron

Known in Welsh mythology as Pair Dadeni or “the Cauldron of Rebirth”, it is referenced in the second branch of the Mabinogion. Like in the movie, the cauldron has the power to revive the dead, and is destroyed when a living person is thrown into it, in the mythological case, Efnisien pretends to be a corpse and is thrown into the cauldron for revival, causing the cauldron to be destroyed. There are other similar magical cauldrons in Welsh and Irish mythology, including the cauldrons of Arawn and Diwrnach, which would not boil the food of cowards, and Ceriddwen’s Cauldron of Inspiration, which caused those who drank from it to gain infinite wisdom. There is also The Cauldron of the Dagda in Irish mythology. One of the 4 Treasures of the Tuatha de Dannan, the Cauldron of the Dagda was stored in the mythical city of Muirius, and no man would ever leave the cauldron hungry, for it produced infinite food.

The Horned King

In the novels, the Horned King is a minor villain, subjugated to Arawn, God of Death. However, in Welsh mythology, Arawn is not a death god. Rather, Arawn is king of Annwn, the Welsh Otherworld. Aka, the Faerieworld. See, this is another example of Christians mucking up translations and trying to force other religions to reflect Christianity, so Annwn is often treated as the Underworld of Celtic mythology, but considering Pwyll wanders into Annwn completely by accident, I don’t think that’s how it was interpreted in traditional texts. The Horned King may also draw inspiration from the Horned God, Cernunnos. Little is known about Cernunnos due to being a very ancient god, but his role as a horned god of the wilderness has historians guessing that he’s one of the oldest gods or divine archetypes in human history, as ancient horned gods pop up with surprising regularity in older religions: namely Baphomet and Pan. Cernunnos is also sometimes but not always folded in with the figure of the All-Father as a sort of father to all creation in Gallo-Celtic paganism. Cernunnos is often regarded as a god of nature and the wilds, but is also a psychopomp god that guides the dead to the afterlife, and maybe is also a god of death and rebirth as a part of life. Again, this is kind of very uncertain because of just how ancient Cernunnos is, so don’t take this interpretation as law. But despite how uncertain we are about what all this figure represents, he’s a very interesting deity none-the-less, and very likely contributed to the Christian idea of the devil as a horned figure with goat legs. As a seemingly undead creature, the Horned King may draw parallels to a creature known as a Revenant. A creature found in Celtic folklore, a Revenant is a vengeful undead that seeks to torment all life until it has found the person who wronged it while it was alive and exacts its revenge. However, it should be noted that in the books, the Horned King is a living man wearing a horned skull mask, whereas the movie version is very clearly a corpse.

Taran’s Sword

In Welsh mythology, the sword Dyrnwyn belonged to the great king Rhydderch Hael, and when held by a worthy man would glow with fire. In the books, Taran’s sword is indeed referred to as Dyrnwyn. Similarly, alongside the Cauldron of the Dagda, another treasure of the Tuatha de Dannan is the Claiomh Solais or the Sword of Light, housed in the mythical city of Findias. This may also be the mythical origin of Excalibur, though scholars have not made a direct, perfect connection.

Conclusion

With so much of the story pulling from the single source of the Mabinogion, we can boil down the likely setting to around when the stories were written as our general setting. Luckily, we can roughly guestimate to about when the Mabinogion might originate from, and the general look of the movie seems to match with this time setting. So, we’re looking at about 1050-1225, around the time that the stories in the Mabinogion might have started to be told, thus inspiring the events in the film.

Setting: Prydain (Wales/Isle of Britain) Kingdom: Kingdom of Prydain Era: High Middle Ages (1000-1250) Year: 1050-1225 AD Language: Middle Welsh

[teaxch]

Miscotti, Criminal Paradise (Fan-Plane In Progress)

I don’t normally post fan-plane concepts that are “works in progress” to this degree - things aren’t even named properly, and the name of the plane itself sounds like “Biscotti.” With today’s announcement of the canon plane of New Capenna, I figured that it was topical, however, so I decided to post what I have. The world concept isn’t a topic that I have a great deal of knowledge in, so it’s a bit half-baked - it mostly exists to be the home plane and home base of a fanwalker character. Details below the cut.

Miscotti is a world of grey-skied cities ruled by rival gangs. It draws on early-mid 20th century Chicago and New York, but heavily dramatized. While Miscotti’s cities are large enough that they run together, it isn’t a total ecumenopolis like Ravnica is. There are quiet areas around and in the cracks of the main metropolitan area. Only a small minority of the population is directly affiliated with a major gang, but the gangs’ activities sharply color day-to-day life on the plane. Being part of a gang comes with tremendous opportunity, but also incredible danger. This means that most members of the major gangs are ambitious sorts.

Miscotti has four major crime families. Each is primary in one of the non-black colors and secondary in black. (Miscotti is not designed as a “draftable set” world.)

(Wb Faction) (The Something Family?) - This faction has the government and law enforcement under their thumb, and isn’t afraid to direct their puppets against the other factions. Compared to the other major families, this faction puts the most effort into presenting themselves as a respectable organization, and in some ways they even are - they frequently take steps to improve the communities in which they operate, and put pressure on local governments to do the same. They also destroy debt records, especially when that debt is owed to their rivals. It’s generally understood that the primary motivator for these actions is to improve their standing in the eyes of the public, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t work.

Their leader, NAME, allegedly achieved their position as a result of being voted for by a consortium of high-ranking members of the family, but given the family’s penchant for political manipulation, it’s unlikely that this was a completely free and fair election.

(Ub Faction) (Something vague, like “The Organization?” A lot of good names are already taken.) - This faction places a premium on secrecy and loyalty, to a degree that the exact scope of their operations are largely unknown. Fiercely meritocratic, this is the only faction where actual family connections will get you nowhere; members who are actually related are expected to set these bonds aside, and are often deliberately separated from each other. It’s generally believed that the majority of their activity centers on the production and transport of illicit goods, and they also skim from the activities of the other factions through their members embedded in their hierarchies.

NAME is well-known as the leader of the faction, which means that they almost certainly have no actual power in the organization. There’s no way that such a secretive organization would make the identity of their leader so well-known, so NAME must not be their true leader. Unless maybe they’re hoping that that’s what you’ll think, and NAME actually is in charge?

(bR Faction) (Something Gang? Outfit?) - This faction has its hands in a number of different operations, but is far and away the most overt in its criminal operations. They’re the ones knocking over banks, doing smash-and-grabs on jewelers, and sticking up those foolish enough to wander through their territory alone at night. They also run nearly every casino and numbers racket on the plane, and simply burn down or beat up any attempt at competition in this area. Members of this faction are known for being incredibly well-armed and quick to shoot, to a degree that even those that are hopeless in a fight can often coerce whatever they want out of their victims. This faction experiences a lot of in-fighting - members often find themselves at the mercy of other members - but it is also the easiest to join by a wide margin, so it is the largest of the major factions by far.

This faction doesn’t really do hierarchy in the way that most other factions do; if somebody wants something to happen, they demand that somebody does it, and if the person giving the order is mean and tough enough, the order gets done. NAME is the meanest and toughest person around, which means that they’re effectively the leader.

(bG Faction) (Order of the Serpent? Or Something?) - Part crime family, part secret society, this faction claims to be part of a lineage of mystery adepts that stretches back to long before Miscotti’s skyscrapers were erected and the other factions showed up on the scene. Their organization and hierarchy has a heavy ritual element, and an ability to adapt to and internalize the traditions of the organization is considered as important as demonstrated ability in completing actual missions. While all of the factions employ spellcasters, this faction actively mythologizes the reputation of their ritualists, and that reputation isn’t unearned. This faction tends to operate mostly outside of the main metropolis; they establish themselves in smaller communities and proceed to use their (real and projected) magical and physical might to gain a stranglehold on the community.

This faction is divided into a number of lodges that operate mostly independently. NAME claims to have founded the faction over four hundred years ago and to still mastermind the operations of the organization as a whole. Whether NAME is actually the original leader or whether it’s an identity that has been passed down through various individuals over the years is a secret, but whatever the truth is, NAME certainly seems to have the magical potency of a centuries-old shaman.

Miscotti has many, many lesser gangs, but they tend to be much smaller, less influential, and shorter-lived. These gangs often scatter and fade out of relevance when their central leader figure dies or is recruited into a major gang. It is also common for an entire gang to be folded into Rb Faction, or less often another major gang.

[camp-counselor-life]

Suggestions for Leading Astronomy

Many of us have fond memories of looking at the stars and moon. I know that I’ve done astronomy at camp many times and now run an entire overnight dedicated to it. But what are some activities to include in an astronomy program? Here are some suggestions for a northern hemisphere stargazing summer evening:

Big and little dipper. The big dipper, an asterism or a group of stars that is commonly know but not actually a constellation, is arguably one of if not the most recognizable group of stars in the northern hemisphere. They are in the northern sky, with the dippers pouring into each other. The big dipper is generally easier to find, and you can use the bottom edge of it’s cup to point to the handle of the little dipper. The big dipper is part of Ursa Major, the big bear, while the little dipper is Ursa Minor.

North star. The star at the end of the little dipper’s handle, which the bottom of the cup of the big dipper points to, is actually the north star, Polaris. All the other stars in the sky appear to rotate around it. A common misconception is that the north star is the brightest star in the sky, but that is not true, which kids can see by comparing how bright Polaris appears as opposed to other stars.

Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia, a princess from Greek mythology, is a W-shaped constellation. It also points to the north star, from the opposite direction of the big dipper. Throughout the night, the big dipper and Cassiopeia rotate around the north star in opposition of each other.

Summer Triangle. Another asterism, this triangle is made up of three stars from the constellations of Lyra the harp, Aquila the eagle, and Cygnus the swan. Cygnus is cross shaped and is, in fact, sometimes known as the Northern Cross. Lyra, in my opinion, looks like a squared off fish outline, like the bumper sticker ones. These stars are high in the sky early in the night, near the Milky Way.

Other easy to find constellations. I usually look for Sagittarius as well. It looks like a teapot and tends to be low on the southern horizon early on summer nights.

Planets. As you are finding Sagittarius, you may also find a planet. A couple of summers ago, Saturn and Jupiter were there, but it varies. To check which planets will be up and where, you can use a software such as Stellarium or an app such as StarTracker. The reason I can’t just tell you where the planets will be is a feature of the planets. Planet means wanderer and the planets move throughout the sky and into different constellations. The planets follow a line in the sky called the ecliptic, along with the sun and moon. The ecliptic moves through the constellations in astrology, such as Sagittarius, Leo, and Aries. When they say in astrology that “Mars is in Leo,” that’s where it is in the sky.

The moon. The moon is fun because it’s easy for kids to observe. You can turn it in to a science lesson about the phases of the moon or you can just enjoy. Here are some moon fun facts for your enjoyment.

Milky Way. If your skies at camp are really dark, you may get to see the milky way. Crossing the sky overhead, this milky band of more dense stars is the rest of the galaxy that we are a part of.

This is just the stargazing portion of the astronomy program. There are tons of other fun activities for kids to do to learn about the solar system, moon, stars, and more.

[back-and-totheleft]

INSIDE a flimsy temporary office on a dusty movie lot here, a young man sits in front of a computer, showing off a three-dimensional rendering of the collapse of the World Trade Center. It was assembled by merging the blueprints for the twin towers — the before-picture, you might say — with a vast collection of measurements, including some taken with infrared laser scans from an airplane 5,000 feet above Lower Manhattan, just days after 9/11.

With a few clicks, Ron Frankel, who has the title pre-visualization supervisor for Oliver Stone's new 9/11 film, begins to illustrate the circuitous path that five Port Authority police officers took into the trade center's subterranean concourse, until the towers above them fell, killing all but two.

As Mr. Frankel speaks, behind his back a burly man has wandered through the door. He is Will Jimeno, one of the two officers who survived. He has been a constant presence on the movie set, scooting from here to there in a golf cart, bantering with the actor playing him and with Mr. Stone, answering questions and offering suggestions — a consultant and court jester. But he has never seen this demonstration before, he says, pulling up a chair.

Mr. Frankel, continuing with his impromptu show-and-tell, says the floor beneath Mr. Jimeno, Sgt. John McLoughlin and their three fellow officers dropped some 60 feet, creating a 90-foot ravine in the underground inferno. The difference between instant death and a chance at life, for each of the men, was a matter of inches.

Mr. Jimeno sits quietly, absorbing what he's just seen and heard. His eyes moisten. "I didn't know this," he says. "I didn't know this. I didn't know there was a drop-off here. This is an explanation I never knew about." He pauses. "We try not to ponder on it, because we're alive. But it answers some questions. That, really, played a big part in us being here." The countless measurements taken and calculations made by scientists and government agencies helped ground zero rescue workers pinpoint dangerous areas in the weeks after the attacks. The data also provided a fuller historical record of how the buildings collapsed and lessons for future architects and engineers.

Only a movie budgeted as mass entertainment, though, could harness all that costly information to reconstruct the point of view of two severely injured and bewildered men, who didn't even know the twin towers had been flattened until rescuers lifted them to the surface many hours later.

Their story, and those of their families, their rescuers and the three men killed alongside them, is the subject of Mr. Stone's "World Trade Center," which Paramount plans to release on Aug. 9.

The quandary that Paramount executives face is a familiar one now, a few months after Universal's "United 93" became the first 9/11 movie to enter wide theatrical release: How do you market a movie like this without offending audiences or violating the film's intentions? Carefully of course, but "there's no playbook," said Gerry Rich, Paramount's worldwide marketing chief. In New York and New Jersey, for example, there will be no billboards or subway signs, which could otherwise hit, quite literally, too close to home. And the studio is running all of its materials by a group of survivors to avoid offending sensibilities.

But Paramount, naturally, wants as wide an audience as possible for this film.

Nicolas Cage, who plays the taciturn Sergeant McLoughlin, says the movie is not meant to entertain. "I see it as storytelling which depicts history," he says. "This is what happened. Look at it. 'Yeah, I remember that.' Generation after generation goes by, they'll have 'United 93,' 'World Trade Center,' to recall that history."

Whether Mr. Stone set out to make a historical drama or a dramatic history isn't entirely clear. Mr. Jimeno and Mr. McLoughlin, who have both since retired from the Port Authority, say the script and the production took very few liberties except for the sake of time compression.

"We're still nervous," Mr. Jimeno said last fall, after shooting had shifted from New York and New Jersey to an old airplane hangar near Marina del Rey. "It's still Hollywood. But Oliver — it's to the point where he drives me crazy, trying to get things right."

There are many people of course who have been driven a little crazy for other reasons by some of Mr. Stone's more controversial films, "JFK," "Natural Born Killers" and "Nixon" chief among them. But in several interviews, sounding variously weary, wounded and either self-deprecating or defensive, Mr. Stone spoke as if his days of deliberate provocation were behind him.

"I stopped," he says simply. "I stopped."

His new film, he says, just might go over as well in Kansas as in Boston, or, for that matter, in Paris or Madrid. "This is not a political film," he insists. "The mantra is 'This is not a political film.' Why can't I stay on message for once in a while? Why do I have to take detours all the time?"

He said he just wants to depict the plain facts of what happened on Sept. 11. "It seems to me that the event was mythologized by both political sides, into something that they used for political gain," he says. "And I think one of the benefits of this movie is that it reminds us of what actually happened that day, in a very realistic sense."

"We show people being killed, and we show people who are not killed, and the fine line that divides them," he continues. "How many men saved those two lives? Hundreds. These guys went into that twisted mass, and it very clearly could've fallen down on them, and struggled all night for hours to get them out."

By contrast Paul Haggis is directing the adaptation of Richard Clarke's book on the causes of 9/11, "Against All Enemies," for the producer John Calley and Columbia Pictures.

Asked if that weren't the kind of film he might once have tried to tackle, Mr. Stone first scoffs: "I couldn't do it. I'd be burned alive." Then he adds: "This is not a political film. That's the mantra they handed me."

Mr. Stone says he particularly owes his producers, Michael Shamberg and Stacy Sher, for taking a chance on him at a time when he had gone cold in Hollywood after a string of commercial and critical disappointments culminating in the epic "Alexander" in 2004. "They believed in me at a time when other people did not, frankly," he says. " 'Alexander' was cold-turkeyed in this town, I think unfairly, but it was, and I took a hit. Nobody's your friend, nobody wants to talk to you."

Mr. Stone came forward asking to direct "World Trade Center" just about a year ago. He decided it would require a different approach from, say, "JFK." "The Kennedy assassination was 40 years ago, and look at the heat there, a tremendous amount of heat," he says. "I was trying to do my best to give an alternative version of what I thought might have happened, but it wasn't understood. It was taken very literally. 'Platoon,' I went back to a Vietnam that I saw quite literally, but it was a twisted time in our history.

"This — this is a fresh wound, and it had to be cauterized in a certain way. This is a very specific story. The details are the details are the details."

The details that led to the movie's making began in April 2004, when Andrea Berloff, a screenwriter, pitched a story about Mr. Jimeno's and Mr. McLoughlin's "transformation in the hole" to Ms. Sher and Mr. Shamberg. Ms. Berloff, who had no produced credits, was candid about two things:

"I didn't want to see the planes hit the buildings. We've seen enough of that footage forever. It's not adding anything new at this point. I also said I don't know how to end the movie, because there are 10 endings to the story. What happened to John and Will in that hospital could be a movie unto itself. Will flatlined twice, and was still there on Halloween. And John was read his last rites twice."

The producer Debra Hill, who had optioned the rights to the two men's stories, was listening in on the line. When Ms. Berloff was done, she recalls, Ms. Hill said, "I don't want to speak out of turn, but I think we should hire you."

Ms. Berloff and Mr. Shamberg headed to New York to meet with the two officers and their families, and to visit both the Port Authority Bus Terminal, where the men had once patrolled, and ground zero. In long sessions with the Jimenos in Clifton, N.J., and with the McLoughlins in Goshen, N.Y., Ms. Berloff says, she quickly learned that both families, despite the nearly three years that had elapsed, remained emotionally raw. "Within 20 minutes of starting to talk they were losing it," she says. "We all just sat and cried together for a week."

Before leaving, Ms. Berloff says, she felt she had imposed on, exhausted and bonded with the two families so much that she warned them that in all likelihood she would not be around for the making of the movie. "I had to say, 'The writer usually gets fired, so I can't guarantee I'll be there at the end,' " she recalls. "But I'd recorded the whole thing, and I said they shouldn't have to go through this with a bunch of writers. They'd have the transcripts to work from."

Ms. Berloff returned to Los Angeles, stared at her walls for a month, she says, and then wrote a script in five weeks, turning it in two days before her October wedding.

Ms. Hill died of cancer the following March. Mr. Shamberg and Ms. Sher moved ahead, circulating the script to Kevin Huvane at Creative Artists Agency, and to his partners Bryan Lourd and Richard Lovett. Mr. Lourd gave it to Mr. Stone, Mr. Lovett to his client Mr. Cage.

The agency also represents Maria Bello, who plays Mr. McLoughlin's wife, Donna, and Maggie Gyllenhaal, who plays Alison Jimeno. Ms. Gyllenhaal, who'd just seen "Crash," suggested Michael Peña, who made a lasting impression in a few scenes as a locksmith with a young daughter. (Mr. Peña did a double-take, he confesses, upon hearing that Mr. Stone was directing a 9/11 movie: "I'm like, let me read it first — just because you're aware of the kind of movies that he does.")

Given the need to shoot exteriors in New York in September, the cast and crew raced to get ready for shooting. The actors aimed for accuracy in different ways. Mr. Cage says he focused on getting Mr. McLoughlin's New York accent right, and spent time in a sense-deprivation tank in Venice, Calif., to get a hint of the fear and claustrophobia one might experience after hours immobile and in pain in the dark. Mr. Peña all but moved in with Mr. Jimeno.

Ms. Gyllenhaal had her own problems to solve. That April she had stepped on a third rail, saying on a red carpet at the Tribeca Film Festival that "America has done reprehensible things and is responsible in some way" for 9/11. She apologized publicly, then met privately with the Jimenos, offering to withdraw if they objected to her involvement. "We started to get into politics a little bit, and Will said, 'I don't care what your politics are,' " she recalls.

With Mr. Jimeno and Mr. McLoughlin vouching for the filmmakers, more rescuers asked to be included, meaning not only that dozens of New York uniformed officers would fly to Los Angeles to re-enact the rescue of the two men, but that there were more sources of information to replace Ms. Berloff's best guesses with vivid memories.

Ms. Bello, who had gone to St. Vincent's Hospital on 9/11 with her mother, a nurse, and waited in vain for the expected deluge of injured to arrive, contributed a scene after learning from Donna McLoughlin of a poignant encounter she had had while waiting for her husband to arrive at Bellevue.

Some of the film's most fictitious-seeming moments are authentic. Mr. Jimeno's account of his ordeal included a Castaneda-like vision in which Jesus appeared with a water bottle in hand. But Mr. McLoughlin recalled no hallucinations, or nightmares, or dreams: only thoughts of his family. "He kept saying I'm sorry — 20 years in the job, never gotten hurt, and here we go and I'm not going to be there for you," Ms. Berloff says. "So we tried to dramatize that."

Nearly everything else in the movie is straight out of Mr. Jimeno's and Mr. McLoughlin's now oft-told story: the Promethean hole in the ground, with fireballs and overheated pistol rounds going off at random; the hundreds of rescuers, with a few standouts, like the dissolute paramedic with a lapsed license who redeems himself as he digs to reach Mr. Jimeno.

And the former marine who leaves his job as a suburban accountant, rushes to church, then dons his pressed battle fatigues, stops at a barbershop for a high-and-tight, heads downtown past barricades saying he's needed and winds up tiptoeing through the perilous heap calling out "United States Marines" until Mr. Jimeno hears him and responds. Mr. Stone says he is adding a note at the end of the film, revealing that the marine, David Karnes, re-enlisted and served two tours of duty in Iraq, because test audiences believed he was a Hollywood invention.

Reality can be just as gushingly sentimental as the sappiest movie, Mr. Stone acknowledges, especially when the storytellers are uniformed officers in New York who lived through 9/11. And particularly when it comes to Mr. Jimeno and Mr. McLoughlin, who have struggled with the awkwardness of being singled out as heroes when so many others died similarly doing their duty, and when so many more rescued them.

"You could argue the guys don't do much, they get pinned, so what," Mr. Stone says. "There will be those type of people. I say there is heroism. Here you see this image of these poor men approaching the tower, with no equipment, just their bodies, and they don't know what the hell they're doing, and they're going up into this inferno, they're like babies. You feel saddened, you feel sorry for them. They don't have a chance."

Mr. Cage says he once mentioned to Mr. Stone that their audience had lived through 9/11: "That it's not like 'Platoon,' where most of us don't know what it's like to be in the jungle."

"He said, 'Well what's your point?' " Mr. Cage says. "And my point is that we all walk into buildings every day, and we were there, and we saw it on TV, so this is going to be very cathartic and a little bit hard for people."

Despite its fireballs, shudders and booms, Mr. Stone's film is also unusually delicate, from the shadowy intimacy of the officers' early-morning awakenings to the solemnity of their ride downtown in a commandeered city bus, to the struggle of their wives to cope with hours of uncertainty and then with false reports of their husbands' safety.

"It's not about the World Trade Center, really. It's about any man or woman faced with the end of their lives, and how they survive," Mr. Stone says. "I did it for a reason. I did it because emotionally it hit me. I loved the simplicity and modesty of this movie.

"I hope the movie does well," he adds, "even if they say 'in spite of Oliver Stone.' "

-David M. Halbfinger, "Oliver Stone's 'World Trade Center' Seeks Truth in the Rubble," The New York Times, July 2 2006 [x]

[project-ohagi]

Hozuki x Reader {Hozuki No Reitetsu}

"Mr Hozuki must have someone he likes!" Karauri complained, carefully holding his stack of papers.

Natsubi nodded happily in agreement. "Yeah! Someone who puts those butterflies in his tummy!"

They rounded a corner, heading to their destination: The Great King Enma's desk, or more specifically, the Chief of Staff himself. He was needed to check over the paperwork and add the finishing details. However, when the two young men found said demon, he was in a rather peculiar, and distinctly unnatural position. He was embracing a woman with gorgeous (h/c) locks, as she pressed her hands against his chest, giving the impression of wanting to escape, but really, it was just to steady herself. As she could feel her legs about to give way at any moment, she wanted to be wholly prepared, and although Hozuki's chest was practically rock hard, it still made for a comforting pillow.

They didn't immediately notice the most bizarre part of the situation, probably because Karauri's hand quickly flew to his companion's face, covering his widened eyes – if he wasn't able to see anything, then he couldn't make his annoying commentary. However, when his own flushed face gazed back up, he realised that his superior was locking lips with this mystery woman. Both parties had their eyes tightly shut, but the expressions on their faces displayed pure love. This was completely unheard of for Hozuki, making the brown-haired hell minion wonder if he was okay in the head.

His dark orbs gradually grew larger as he witnessed the older male slip his tongue into your mouth, and heard two separate moans. There was a slight shift, and you began walking backwards, knocking into a conveniently-placed desk. You fell back, disconnecting your lips, and stared up at Hozuki in an embarrassing silence. He hovered over your trembling body, pressing himself far too close to your nether region. Bringing his face towards you, he started sucking and biting on your neck contentedly.

He enjoyed listening to the hushed sounds exiting your mouth.

Pulling away from your bruised and sensitive skin, he reached into his robe. You knew exactly what was coming, because he had attempted this too many times now. You constantly declined, and while you had admitted to admiring his persistence, the request itself was something entirely different. He was holding a marriage registration document, already showing his signature. You thought he must carry those everywhere with him, as you saw them so often. Like with the previous papers, you gently took them into your hand, then set them alight.

Marriage was a difficult predicament – you hailed from one of the Nine Realms of Norse Mythology, so you technically weren't a demon, nor were you actually dead, but you also weren't exactly a person, so to speak. You were a daughter of Loki, the God of Mischief, and his brief mistress, Angrboda. Therefore, you had obtained some flashy powers, including practical sorcery, fire wielding, and metamorphosis. Being from a place with so much distance from the Japanese Hell in which Hozuki resided presented a major problem, because it wasn't often that you were even able to make time to see him, and he was generally far too busy anyway. That was why nobody in Enma's court had ever seen you before. You had met Hozuki a long time in the past, when he was still classed as an adolescent, and although the fact of your love was indisputable, you still couldn't allow marriage.

You were the type bred for playing around, never taking a permanent partner, but Hozuki seemed to have alternative plans. In a regular conversation, he brought up the topic of marriage and children every two minutes. You didn't wish to disappoint him, but you also didn't want to marry him.

"Hozuki, you know we live too far apart." You reminded.

He gave the same blank expression. "I can have you transferred. I've heard that Mortal Hell could use more female worke-"

"I've declined you before."

"I was hoping you would have changed your mind."

The sudden, spontaneous clapping of large hands broke your concentration, and your eyes strained to see anything past Hozuki's shoulder. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, so you figured King Enma must have been the source of that thunder-like noise. He advanced towards you, stopping for a moment to scratch his cheek awkwardly, and make a comment about your questionable position. Hozuki, as always, made a point to sound as irritated as possible in the lowest tone, and honestly, it was so sexy. He obviously knew what he was doing, and how his voice was extremely overpowering, causing you to go weak at the knees. He turned all of his attention away from your figure, although he refused to let you move.

His hands gripped the desk a little too tightly, forcing it to break.

Instead of landing on the ground, however, you found yourself cradled in Hozuki's arms. You would have blushed, but King Enma was still present, and you didn't want this demon to humiliate you any further. He set you on your feet, turning to the king with a malicious glare, beginning to lecture him about not completing his paperwork. A sigh pierced your thoughts, and you watched Hozuki walk away briskly, muttering something about having to do it himself.

You stared at his back for a while, before hearing laughter.

"He does love you, doesn't he?"

Addressing King Enma, you responded, "I'm no better than that man he despises."

"Hm? Do you mean Hakutaku?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

You nodded, folding your arms. "He found out what I do, and for a short time, he limited himself to the only man I was allowed to interact with."

"Until?" He prompted, curiously.

Raising an eyebrow, you replied, "Until he realised that I don't have a gender preference."

King Enma chuckled. "Well, Hozuki certainly seems to think that you're different, and he's not giving up, even though you're engaged."

Just then, the main door burst open, revealing a very frustrated demon, and about a million pieces of paper. He trudged forwards, almost like he was wading in thick mud, and promptly slammed the pile down on the king's desk. The aura protruding from him was extraordinarily menacing.

You watched him with a small smile, as he scolded King Enma. He really was the epitome of discipline; maybe his unwavering determination what was made him so attractive in the first place. Whatever it was, you couldn't help laughing slightly at how entertaining this scene was – Hozuki was basically throttling the king, who was supposed to be his superior. The demon had always been this way, and you wondered why this aspect of his personality (the utter disrespect for King Enma) was so very endearing to you. He was surrounded by a constant supply of other women, and yet he always remained faithful to you, even if you played around and were already betrothed. That was just something else you admired – how he could be so seemingly carefree, to the point where he was more than willing to disregard your fiancé, in pursuit of tying the knot with you.

He glanced in your direction, eyes narrowing as he contemplated your expression. You appeared conflicted, which made him worry slightly. He let go of King Enma, and turned towards you.

"Do you want me to dissolve your engagement?"

Your head snapped up, and even the king stared at him like that was an impossible task. Although, you were of the assumption that nothing was impossible for this man.

Sighing, you responded, "It was decided by my father, and he won't free me so easily."

Hozuki lifted his iron club. "We'll see about that."

He exited the room, in almost a sprint. It was quite rare to see that level of urgency from such a refined, monotonous individual. It caused shivers to run down the spines of all those present. You and King Enma exchanged glances, then let out a simultaneous breath. It wasn't usually a good idea to allow him to wander, especially not into that sort of territory, because someone always ended up with extreme injuries, and it wasn't Hozuki.

After a minute or two of heavy silence, the king spoke up. "He's desperate."

"Desperate? I wouldn't say that – impulsive, maybe." You concluded.

He shook his head. "He may not express much other than anger, but this is definitely an intense emotion. He mutters under his breath sometimes, and it's really scary...I'm starting to think he might turn into a Yandere or something..."

"Yandere?" You questioned, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

King Enma smiled. "Well, a Yandere is someone who..."

--

It couldn't have been more than about ten minutes since you had last seen him, that the Chief of Staff made a re-appearance. Behind him, being dragged along the ground, was the man your father had promised you to – he was a fine warrior, but obviously nothing compared to the demon who had defeated him. There was an odd look on Hozuki's face, almost as if he was trying to reign in a grin or something.

King Enma and yourself looked up from your game of chess, and you got quite a shock when your fiancé was flung on to the ground beneath you. Hozuki brushed his hands together, seemingly ridding himself of the filth.

"They needed some persuasion, but eventually agreed." He clarified.

The atmosphere suddenly became very tense.

He reached into his robe and presented you with some more marriage documents. You sighed, slipping off your now insignificant ring, and tossing it to Hozuki, to do as he saw fit. You were relieved when he promptly destroyed it, before walking up to where you sat, and thrusting the forms into your hands. This time, you set them down gently on the table beside the on-going game of chess – he had just done you a great favour, so perhaps you would consider filling them in at some point.

He took your lack of action as a sign that he was doing something wrong again.

He reached back into his pocket, asking, "Should I do it in a Western style?".

You gazed at the velvet box securely planted in his palm.

This was going to be troublesome.

[seasaltmemories]

End of the Year Review Collection

So my readings/media consumption for the past few months have been scattershot with not a lot individually to comment on so I thought I would group them together and tackle them one by one.  So without further ado let’s start:

Schoolgirl by Osamu Dazai

After this title got dropped in comparison to my writing, naturally I was curious to check it out.  And while I am usually not a fan of stream of consciousness styles, I found this surprisingly delightful.  The plot is exactly what it says on the tin, a schoolgirl from 1930s Japan going about her day.  But what makes it really work is how it so thoroughly captures this adolescence precociousness.  Details show her father recently passed away and she often makes these dramatic statements about “goodness” and how evil she feels for going through normal growing pains.  But then just as quickly she gets distracted by petty daily concerns.  It’s the right balance of insight without ever tipping over into being too knowledgeable.  I don’t know how much I would enjoy this type of style in a longer work, but as a novella it worked just right.

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeanette Ng

This has been on my radar ever since March, but once I got my hands on it, I had trouble really getting into it.  The premise is to die for:   England discover Faireland and starts sending missionaries to convert the fae.  Naturally torment for the arrogant humans ensue. Yet for all my love of mixing fantasy and theology together, I found myself 1/4 in and still waiting to get carried away.  There was much less very confused and complicated discussions about religion and a lot more wandering around with vague cryptic foreboding, and I just had trouble being interested protagonist beyond a plot-twist I got spoiled on earlier.  I never got to the revelation in text and I could tell it was meant to be a slow-burn of sorts.  But I had a lot on my plate work-wise and so it just kinda fell to the wayside.  One day I might check it out again, but I am not in a rush.

Night Sky with Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong

I would say I’m someone who appreciates poetry but just doesn’t have the mind for it.  Still although I only read a few excerpts from this, I was immediately floored.  Something about Vuong’s work just immediately clicked with me.  The language he uses is very precise.  For example, he’ll reference Greek or Christian mythology just long enough to take the exact image and emotion he needs before moving on.  If you get the allusion it can be a one-two sucker punch, but the actual story and contents of the poem still feel uniquely his.  And over time all these poems build an entirely new mythology of his life to mix together and reference.  Add on themes of family, violence, and gay sexuality, and suddenly I felt finally able to understand poetry.

Brigandine: Legend of Runersia

So apparently this is a revival of an old strategy series from the PS1 days.  I went in pretty blind since I was only borrowing a copy, but if I had to sum it up, it is like if you made Risk a tactical RPG.  Aside from a handful of small, indie titles, my only real experience with the genre was Fire Emblem, so I thought I would try it out.

Anyway it reminded me of a lot of older games.  There is a story in theory, but it mostly found through the guide that comes with the game.  There are a lot of mechanics to keep track of as you cycle between nation expanding and individual battles.  I restarted a few times and consulted some guides as I tried to get a grip on just what was the right strategy to take.  But I had a lot of fun with that problem-solving element and having to figure stuff out on my own.  Once you get going you pretty much fall into a predictable “pick a direction to expand in and do it,” but it provides a decent level of stimulation at a steady pace.  I wouldn’t call it amazing but it scratched an itch I didn’t know I had for the genre while being different enough from what I was familiar with.  I could see this as being a good bargain bin purchase.

[amazingsphelon]

Hello for today’s UPDATE! 08/31/2020

I have finished another 4 of my OC Gijinkas on a different posture

========================================================

Link of the original previous post:

Gijinka Pokemon 1st 4 Update

Gijinka WIP Update:

Gijinka Sketches (1st Post)

Gijinka Previous POST (2nd Post)

————————————————-

Hello for today’s UPDATE! 08/31/2020

I have finished another 4 of my OC Gijinkas on a different posture

========================================================

Link of the original previous post:

Gijinka Pokemon 1st 4 Update

Gijinka WIP Update:

Gijinka Sketches (1st Post)

————————————————-

From Top to Bottom:

Sigmund the Salamence. Hanzo Hatoori the Ninjaslk,

Blare the Blaziken, Aedris the Aggron, Aeshi the Gardevoir and Melody the Milotic.

Also You can check out their profile, bio and storylines overhere including a few early sketches per each character:

============================================================= Sir Sigmund - The Brave and Noble Knight Salamence =============================================================

================================================

Sigmund- The Salamence** Prince Sigmund later on

Age: 21

———————————–

Attacks:

Dragon Breath, Dragon Claw, Draco Meteor, Dragon Rage

Human Fighting Style:

Medieval Knight + Zweihander

Origin Similarities: Europe

Likes: Melody whom he nourishes love a lot and her very compassionate

side. Blare and Hanzo, whom he likes to relate with a lot of things.

Dislikes: Being defeated by Melody on certain circumstances (even

Battles), being flirted, his old past life and some of his bitter

colleagues, whom he also face resistance with.

================================================

Sir Sigmund, The Lone Wandering Salamence Knight, travelling around the region in search for a redeeming purpose of his kingdom’s whereabouts while facing his own misunderstood transgressions that had deem to ostracize him by his own peers in the pasts.

Luckily for the lone knight, he’s travelling with Melody, Blare and the Gang in which he enjoys their company alot.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/629228006967279616/09142020-hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode?is_highlighted_post=1

============================================================= Hanzo Hatoori - The Fierceful Ninja Ninjask =============================================================

============================================

Hanzo- The Ninjask** based on Hanzo Hatoori

Age: 27 **he looks younger though abit

———————————–

Attacks: **He has a Katana Blade that allows him to cast more movesets

outside the Ninjask moveset line.

X-Scissor, Fury Cutter, Slash, Secret Power (fire base)

Human Fighting Style:

Ninjitsu + Iga -Ryu

Origin Similarities: Japan

Likes: His master (A humanize Shedinja), His clan, novelty and his status and staying often hidden in the shadows unrevealed for his anonymity.

Dislikes: **To be Written Soon. nothing much is particularly known even

though with friends around him (especially the 7 closest friends he got

outside his clan, and perhaps their might be more…!) Though Aeshi and

Sigmund might have appear to know more about his secrets.

============================================

Hanzo Hatoori - The Mysterious Ninja of one of the famous insect clan of Ninjas. He’s on a mission to most likely bring balance to their whole region. And living in the shadows, while joining Blare and company, even his closest friends couldn’t decipher his true identity nor his secrets to the people around him.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/630321940042760192/09142020hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode

============================================================= Miashe Blare - The The Fiery Fighter Blaziken =============================================================

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

Miashe Blare - The Blaziken **just completely Blare

Age: 17

———————————–

Attacks: Has a gold gauntlet that allows her to cast additional moves.

Blaze Kick, Double Kick, Mirror Move,Sky Uppercut, Fire Blast

Human Fighting Style:

Pankration + Muay Thai

Origin Similarities: Greek + Asia (Japanese)

Likes: Tough Battles, Battling against Water Practitioners, Adventures

Dislikes: Being called a Tomboy

================================================ Miashe Blare is an martial arts adventurer, travelling with her companions Aedris and Aeshi in search for treasures and loots galore. Her dreams was to participate on the famous tournament to be one day be among the stars of the fame, searching for stronger opponents and the curse of the "Mythical Birth Fragment" marks surrounding it's bizarre power and mystery.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/625837829585600512/08072020-greetings-today-guys-for-todays?is_highlighted_post=1

=============================================================  Aedris Stonebreaker - The Vigorous Adventurer Aggron =============================================================

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

Aedris - The Aggron** Aedris Stonebreaker

Age: 21-24

———————————–

Attacks: **Has a mace that allows him to cast more moves

Strength, Metal Claw, Iron Tail, Double Edge, Brick Break, Earthquake

Human Fighting Style:

Medieval Knight + Giant Mace

Origin Similarities: Underground Hierarchic (European)

Likes: Sexy, Cute , Pretty and Beautiful Women (He has a thing for Blare and Melody though), Adventures, Treasures

Dislikes: ***to be written more soon….             The only thing he abhors in life according to Blare and Aeshi’s talks…is actually fairy tail stories.

================================================

Aedris Stonebreaker, an adventurer, blacksmith and knight prodigy who stumbles upon Blare in search for treasures and loots galore. While he doesn't have any good dreams in particular for now, All he ever wished was to become rich, living with extravagant loots and riches for a luxury. and being the muscle of the group,and being the hyperactive and a hot-headed warrior he is, he often gets himself into trouble more often whenever he has a rough way of saying things as well as his eye for beautiful women (sparing the appearance of his attractive friends though Blare, Aeshi and Melody)

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/625839598748254208/08072020-greetings-today-guys-for-todays?is_highlighted_post=1

=============================================================Aeshi the Magician - The Marvelous Maiden Gardevoir =============================================================

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

Aeshi - The Gardevoir **Also known as “Aeshi the Magician” **last name I haven't decided yet

Age: 16

———————————–

Attacks: She has a greaves that allows her more additional moves

Magical Leaf, Calm Mind, Future Sight, Psychic, Recover

Human Fighting Style:

Yoga + Telekinesis + Wing Chun + Other Chinese Martial Arts

Origin Similarities: Chinese with European Blood

Likes: Her trusted friends especially Melody and highly on Blare** (I’ll expand this soon), Mysteries, Books, archaeological artifacts especially the magical ones,  Doing palm readings and fortune telling, Mythology, nature and the spiritual realm.

Dislikes: Her said parents……and boredom (secretly).

================================================

A prodigy of a family who practices divine mystical traditions, she ran away from her mother and father due to their constant arguments tear her beloved family apart and how being idealistic the two where on polarizing directions suppressing her life to love what she enjoys most. She joins Blare and Aedris in perhaps for a search for her family heritage and her grandparent's remains somewhere in their region so she could one day to have her family to make amends.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/627954895556935680/08072020-hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode

=============================================================  Princess Melody - The Harmonic Sea Majestic Princess/Priestess Milotic =============================================================

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

Melody - The Milotic **Also known as Princess Melody and has a Kingdom

somewhere **similar to Asia and Island Regions

Age: 19

———————————–

Attacks: She has a wand which she can perform additional movesets and also enhances her water power skills entirely and she prefers more on kicking btw.

Ice Beam/Water Pulse, Surf, Blizzard, Hydro Pump, Recover, Aqua Ring, Aqua Tail (Kick)**Her most powerful skill

Human Fighting Style:

Water Magic **(similar to Azura from Fire Emblem) + Polynesian Taekwondo

Origin Similarities: Polynesian, Asia and Unspecified European Region *perhaps celtic??

Likes: Sigmund her Lover (Salamence), The two trainers who went on her adventures (I’ll introduce them soon, their base on Ruby and Sapphire though) Peace and Serenity, Harmony and Beautiful thoughts, her beauty (which she’s honestly and modestly proud of), Magical massages and salons, her proud vigorous and strong graceful legs which she use for kicking especially and Ocean Life.

Dislikes: Chaos, Insincere People, Her strict father King Raidos (Gyarados)**she still loves her father despite his strict personality, Lightning and Electric Base attacks, Her powerful gifted and strong but yet cursed and fragile fragment mark.

================================================

A popular beautiful princess  heir from a monarch  kingdom from her father, King Rydus (Gyarados Gijinka) in a majestic land surrounded by the seas. Princess Melody is King Rydus's only daughter left, grieving in the sad lost of their beloved queen priestess (A Milotic and Melody's mother). With no one else to rule besides her father, she has set herself with courage to continue ruling their kingdom on behalf of her beloved mother and the kingdom's hard working ordinance to settle peace through out the lands and for the love of her people. Luckily for the ironic princess, she easily make anyone friends around her compare to the complexity of her father issues. She sets on an important goal to two of her beloved friends Raid and Naya (who were not locals in their kingdom but unwordly young foreigners) to spread peace and love throughout the land, to solve the curse of their region saving everyone and have them return to their own worlds.

PROFILE/BIO EXTENTION LINK and SKETCHES:

https://amazingsphelon.tumblr.com/post/627962232443191296/08312020-hello-again-guys-for-todays-episode

=======================================

That sums up everything for my OC Gijinkas folks I’ll posting something else after this one.