#mythoi

[apollomes-supremacy]

Achilles 💥

#Hello tumblr i am alive #art #mine #Achilles #akhilleus #The iliad #greek mythology #greek myth #greek myths #myth #myths #mythology #greek mythos #mythoi #mythos #greek heroes #ancient greece #digital art #character design

[acluke-author]

https://mythoi.substack.com/p/the-cat-wyrm-tatzelwurm

Mythoi is my newsletter about folklore and tabletop RPGs!

If you’ve ever thought to yourself that not enough monsters are part-cat, part-dragon, the Alps have you covered!                                                         

#ttrpg #folklore #cats #cat dragon #dnd #mythoi #dungeons and dragons #5e #osr #rpg #my writing

[merelyroleplayers]

Church grims, black shucks, barghests, they get a bad rap, but they're all good dogs, bront

#folklore #church grim #a. c. luke #mythoi #newsletter

[deathlessathanasia]

“Myth is integral to religion, therefore; it is not a fancy wrapping paper which must be taken off in order to get down to the realities of cult. Yet the role of Greek myths, it need scarcely be stressed, is very different from that of sacred books. At the most drastic, intellectuals felt able to dismiss the whole mythic representation of deity as what came to be called theologia fabularis, “mythical theology,” an invention of poets, while still treating the cults as a valid mode of access to the divine. For them the myths were indeed just a wrapping, and a very deceptive one. The only alternative to rejection, for the philosophically trained, was allegorical reinterpretation. But even for those outside those very restricted circles there was little about the myths that was stable or dependable, or so at least it appears to an outside observer. Stories about the birth of deities, we have seen, were fundamental, the staple of cult hymns. But the poet of the early Homeric Hymn to Dionysus already contrasts what he declares to be his own true account of the god’s birth with no fewer than five “lying” counterclaims. That was one way to navigate the currents of endless variants without being swept into skepticism: one account is true, all others false. To a large extent the variants are regional, and we can suppose that worshippers accepted the version of the myth that they were born to; the claim that Apollo was born in Lycia will not often have been heard on Delos. Similarly, though we may be aware that the myths associated with a particular sanctuary change over time, we should not necessarily project that awareness onto those who frequented it. But it is very uncertain to what extent we can postulate mythological consensus, an agreed local version, even at a particular place and time. Since priests did not recount myths, there was no obvious mechanism by which even a powerful cult could communicate a standardized account from the center. Temple sculpture, where it existed, could scarcely alone carry such narrative weight. In some cults, as we have seen, foundational myths were repeated again and again by pious choruses. If the same hymn was rendered on all occasions year in, year out, its version could indeed establish itself as standard. But at great sites such as Delphi and Delos, frequented by sacred missions from afar, different choruses sang different hymns. Stability is likely to have been the exception rather than the rule.

Myths lacked fixed form; nor was there anything resembling a canon of myths known to everybody even if in divergent forms. Two consequences follow from the absence of a canon. On the one hand, the question of what myths were known to whom is always an open one. One can guess at a core of “archmyths” that were very generally familiar, because often alluded to or depicted. But that criterion can produce surprising results. At Greek sacrifices, mortals received the best meat, and the gods had to be content with fat and bones. Hesiod explained that the unequal division had its origin in a deception exercised by Prometheus “at the time when the gods and mortal men had a dispute” (or “were separated “at Mekone” (Theogony 535–36). Hesiod’s myth relates the practice, satisfyingly, to a time of interaction and perhaps of division between gods and mortals, a time therefore when the order of the universe is being constituted; he also links it to Prometheus, the central figure in other myths that concern dealings between mortals en masse and gods. But though allusions to the unequal division are quite common, no other source of the classical period appears to relate it to Prometheus or Mekone or a dispute/division between gods and men. Are we then entitled to say that “the Greeks” explained the division of meat at sacrifice by reference to the trick of Prometheus? The core of myths universally or all-but-universally known may be very small. But if the core is small, the periphery is uncontrollably large. Any story about gods and heroes that any Greek heard or saw and remembered on any occasion was a part of their conception of the gods. Many Greeks from very early on rejected many stories about the gods as untrue, because unworthy of divine dignity or morality, and they were free to do so; but there was no mechanism whereby stories of “gods in sundry shapes, committing heady riots, incest, rapes” could be put under a ban as uncanonical. Since there was no canon, it was equally possible for moralists to reject such stories, and for unreclaimed man to revel in them.”

 - On Greek Religion by Robert Parker

#mythology #greek mythology #myths #greek myths #mythoi #quotes #excerpts

[dvdvardy]

#arg #unfiction #webseries #multi-mythoi #the velchaos mythos #BrandonHunts09 #Project Black Bird #2TheSkyCities04 #Deus dixit nobis mori

[quasi-normalcy]

(*"Mythoi" is the plural of "Mythos"; I'm trying not to use the word "franchise" because I hate the fact that our modern mythology is corporate IP)

[flowers-of-io]

“Masks are meant to conceal, but they reveal more about us than we realize.” —Eva Levante

Read on Ao3

Enina and her Ghost sat on the patio of a small café in the Riverside district, watching the evening lights of the City flicker on the water. It was a picturesque spot: the river coiled here around a small peninsula, barely large enough for a few buildings stuck closely together, and two bridges reached out from it diagonally in opposite directions. The venue was almost empty this late into the evening, and nobody but them braved to sit outside in the damp October chill, but far out on the other bank silhouettes of people still moved against the pale lights of shopping windows.

A gust of wind tugged at Enina’s hair, blowing some of them into her face. She was a beautiful woman, with dark skin, full lips and green eyes framed by sharp, regal features. Black curls spilled freely over the scarf around her neck and the suede coat underneath. The hands she was warming around a mug of mulled wine were slender and long-fingered, several rings shimmering on them in the lanternlight. She looked just on the right side of unapproachable—like someone who could lounge on a divan in a dark corner, observing the party with sharp eyes, and nobody would dare to come up and bother her for the extent for the night, even if only to offer champagne.

All of this made her a perfect disguise.

“‘Remembering the dead’ my ass” Immaru said. “It’s not like Guardians need an excuse to shoot at things. It’s fucking stupid.”

Savathûn looked at him with amusement.

“Don’t you find it even a little fascinating how similar their views on mortality are to ours?”

“Duh, where?” He sneered, his (stolen) Almost Mighty Shell tilting to one side. “I don’t recall the Hive runnin’ around firing guns at pumpkins.”

“I’ve told you before about how the Hive see death.” She gently rocked the mug and watched a slice of orange rise to the surface and ruin the image of the Traveler-less sky reflected in it. “Our mythoi are not so different, at the heart of it. The Hive believe soulfire is the immortal part of a person, the connection to the Sea of Screams, but unlike one’s Ascendant form, it can’t be destroyed so easily. Death is only and forever an ending, but the essence persists… Funny, when you think about it, that something endowed to us by the worm gods is at the core of our faith in the afterlife.”

“Isn’t that heresy?”

“Don’t underestimate the Hive’s proficiency in warping the tenets of the sword logic to accommodate our existential fears,” her mouth quirked. “How different is our faith in one’s continued existence through their legacy from the Human beliefs in remembering as a way to keep the dead living on? The Unseen Sister is a comforting alternative to perpetual oblivion.”

“So you’re saying that Oryx’s soul, or whatever, is still somewhere out there?” Immaru said incredulously.

“Perhaps.” Savathûn raised the mug to her lips. “That is my sister’s copium of choice, anyhow.”

The Ghost rolled his eye.

“From what these two nerds have gathered, either Human myths are stupid as fuck, or they are stupid as fuck. Did you know they believe it’s Hive magic that’s creating those… Headless Ones? I don’t think that Fallen’s ever seen a Hive in her entire life.”

Savathûn cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, dear. What can we learn from that?”

“That Guardians are only interested in loot and candy?” Immaru sneered.

“A culture’s ghost stories can tell us much about its people’s fears.”

“Yeah, and they’re afraid of four meters tall ghouls with flaming pumpkins for heads.”

“And Hive bodies,” she pointed out.

“...Fair point,” he acquiesced.

“I expected you to feel flattered by this,” Savathûn’s smile flickered deep in her eyes. “They’re afraid of us. What an advantage that is!”

Immaru grumbled, and there was the smallest hint of fluster in it. “Yeah, well. That was pretty obvious, wasn’t it.”

“Oh, my love,” she crooned in a honey-sweet voice, and reached for him. It felt strange—five soft fingers wrapping around his core, a small hand cupping his shell. Immaru let her stroke his spikes for a while, some very Hive emotion on her face that the Human features struggled to convey. He freed himself when he could no longer stand her piercing gaze.

He nestled between her neck and the folds of her scarf instead, pressed against her pulse. It throbbed with the illusion of a human heartbeat, but underneath it he could sense the familiar rhythm of her Hive heart, growing louder and more defined the more he focused on it. Savathûn raised a hand and stroked the rim of his shell. He shuddered and bristled, at first, but then leaned into the touch and let it press him closer to her strange, warm, false skin.

He wasn’t jealous of what Runi had with Ór. He would die if his Lightbearer kept him around so close he might’ve as well been her extra body part, with no room to breathe. Did that guy even have hobbies? He seemed to be tied to her like algae in lichen, in something that was supposed to be symbiosis but turned out as him fretting and flying around after her to get her ass out of her own trouble. Immaru could never do that. He was self-sufficient, he’d been self-sufficient for centuries, and nothing about him had changed only because he’d finally found his chosen corpse. Savathûn could do whatever she wanted for all he cared, and the more space she left him to focus on his own thing, the better for them both. He was his own person, and he could very much fend for himself.

He’d also missed her.

He’d missed her laughter and her velvety voice, her songs and stories and the way she tipped her head back when she was amused. He’d missed not falling asleep alone. He’d missed her, and he was furious at Guardians for taking her from him so soon and leaving him to pick up the pieces, and he was furious at her for trading him away—because he could never have refused, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to refuse anything she’d ask of him, anything at all. He was furious at himself for feeling like this. He was more than a dog on her fancy leash; she could have everyone else wrapped around her talon, but she still needed him, and it had still been his decision—his own, he’d made this choice himself, and even if he’d done it for her sake... well, what gives?

He hated the thought that he needed her back. But she was supposed to be his.

Savathûn hummed, a sound from deep within her chest vibrating up her throat and through her skin. Immaru loathed how much it calmed him. If he closed his eye, he could almost pretend they were in the throne world, back in that first week, drunk on the chaos and victory and new purpose and their exquisite scheme ticking on towards resolution. He’d slept in the crook of her neck, and ordered the Brood around perched on her shoulder, and really, really believed they would win. Everything had been set up perfectly. He’d laughed at the contingencies, back then, no matter how serious Savathûn’s eyes had been when she’d made him listen to all of them.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, most of them angry and jagged and pushing forth to the forefront of his mind with a scream, and the rest insignificant questions like Do you love me and When can I come home. He hadn’t been afraid of telling her anything, before, but now…

They sat in silence, watching the lights gradually go off in one storefront after the other.

“The last time I was here, you could barely see the stars,” Savathûn spoke. “The Sky obscured the sky, ironically enough.”

Immaru couldn’t tell if she expected him to chuckle or cringe, so he only gave an unidentified hum.

“You can’t see shit with all the city lights anyway,” he grumbled.

“Humans can’t, maybe.” There was a smile in her voice. She tilted her head up to look at the stars. “Terran constellations always struck me as exquisitely beautiful. Some part of me still marvels at a clear sky unclouded by a gaseous atmosphere.”

“What do you see, then?”

“A worm god,” she chuckled to herself. “Mmm… The stern of the Dreadnaught. And my siblings fighting. And, ah…” Another chuckle, softer this time. “If you asked a Hive to name any given constellation in any given sky, you can bet the first one they’d find would be Auryx defeating Akka.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“It is. But once again, such is the power of myths.”

“Boring,” Immaru said. “D’we have it in the sky at home, then?”

“That depends only on your interpretation.”

“You made that sky.”

“In that case,” she reached for the mug of her rapidly cooling wine, “we do.”

“Hey, and what about, hm, a Hive Knight biting off Ikora Rey’s head? Do we have that too?”

Savathûn laughed, her alien skin vibrating like the membrane of a drum. Immaru nuzzled into it.

“Perhaps,” she took a sip of the wine and looked up at the sky again. “Perhaps.”

#still not over these two clowns #gripping the table so hard my nails break #my fics #aunt savathûn #immaru #destiny 2 #festival of the lost #season of the witch #hive #enina

[thecreaturecodex]

Lamia, Quettamum

“Unknowable” © David Palumbo, accessed at ComicArtFans here

[The World Tour comes to Asia, and like with the previous stops in Europe and North America, it’s not as if the Creature Codex hasn’t already done a lot of Asian monsters. So I am going to be mixing it up between familiar mythoi (yokai, Filipino mythology, The Guideways Through Mountains and Seas) with some less familiar ones. Like the lore of Balochistan, one of the provinces of Pakistan. The Mum of Quetta is a local bogeyman with roots in the late 19th century, when Quetta became a site of British imperial attention. A statue of a sphinx erected in a graveyard became the focal point for stories of a man eating monster. Thanks to @abominationimperatrix​ for sharing this awesome story with me!]

Lamia, Quettamum CR 9 CE Magical Beast This great leonine creature has the head of a human woman, although her teeth are still quite sharp.

A quettamum is a particularly bestial offshoot of lamias. They are sometimes mistaken for sphinxes, which they closely resemble. Indeed, some sages believe that quettamums are hybrids of sphinxes and lamiae, although the quettamums deny this violently. Quettamums are cruel hunters, lurking around the margins of settlements in order to catch and eat children, their favorite food. A quettamum can use its senses through any statue with a face over surprising distances, and they use this to spy on their neighbors and look for victims. They are notorious bogeys in any area where they are known, and a town where all the statues have covered faces or are defaced may be in a quettamum’s territory.

A quettamum prefers to attack from ambush. If stalking prey, this may be a conventional surprise attack, but at their lairs, quettamums spend much of their time surveying their surroundings in statue form. They usually decorate their territory with other sphinx-like statues, making it confusing to determine which is the monster and which is just a statue. They typically cloak themselves in magical silence before pouncing, the better to conceal the screams of their victims. Quettamums dislike fair fights, and will typically try to run if they are not in a position of strength within a few rounds.

Other lamiae tend to have a mixed relationship with quettamums. The quettamum cannot change its shape or disguise itself magically as a humanoid, so they are rarely suitable for missions of corruption. But they are intelligent and magically gifted all the same, and make excellent spies. Some, especially lamia matriarchs, view quettamums with a sense of condescension, treating them as poor relations. Quettamums tend to get along well with cultists of Areshkagal, and fiendish and half-fiend quettamums can be found in the Abyssal layer of the Blood Clefts. 

Quettamum               CR 9 XP 6,400 CE Large magical beast Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +13 Defense AC 23, touch 15, flat-footed 17 (-1 size, +5 Dex, +1 dodge, +8 natural) hp 114 (12d10+48) Fort +14, Ref +13, Will +10 Immune confusion and insanity effects; SR 20 Offense Speed 60 ft. Melee bite +17 (1d4+6 plus Wisdom drain), 2 claws +17 (1d6+6/19-20 plus grab) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks pounce, rake (2 claws +17, 1d6+6/19-20) Spell-like Abilities CL 12th, concentration +14 At will—stone shape 3/day—mirror image, quickened silence (DC 14), stone call 1/day—statue, stone tell, transmute rock to mud Statistics Str 22, Dex 20, Con 18, Int 15, Wis 19, Cha 15 Base Atk +12; CMB +19 (+23 grapple); CMD 35 (39 vs. trip) Feats Dodge, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (claw), Iron Will, Mobility, Quicken SLA (silence) Skills Acrobatics +14 (+26 when jumping), Bluff +12, Climb +15, Craft (sculpture) +8, Intimidate +8, Perception +13, Stealth +14, Survival +13; Racial Modifiers +4 Bluff, +4 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Common, Sphinx SQ statue sight Ecology Environment temperate hills Organization solitary or pride (2-6) Treasure standard Special Abilities Statue Sight (Su) By concentrating, a quettamum can use its senses through any statue within 600 feet. This functions as an enter image spell (CL 12th), except that the quettamum can make Perception checks through any statue with a face, not just images of itself. A quettamum cannot animate an image or speak through it. Wisdom Drain (Su) A creature bitten by a quettamum takes 1d4 points of Wisdom drain (no save).

#quettamum #mum of quetta #sphinx #lamia #balochistan #world tour #pathfinder 1e

[sburbian-sage]

I've heard that there are certain numbers that are "lucky" or that come up a lot in the game's code or that are otherwise meaningful. Most often I hear 413, but some say that each session has it's own "special number".

Is this just a bullshit rumor?

Not at all. It's bullshit to call it a "lucky number", because luck doesn't exist (outside of how it is tangibly and demonstrably manipulated by the Light Aspect), and because the manner in which it is "meaningful" is highly variable. Most of the time it's some obtuse easter egg that only makes sense to one group of people, if they notice it, sometimes it is indeed portentous, sometimes it just gets spammed everywhere. But all that aside, this is all documented and true.

If you want to know the secret behind the "recurring number" phenomenon, it boils down to junk data and re-used assets, basically. SBURB is absolutely brimming with useless, near-useless, sometimes-useful, and mostly inane numbers and values. The most well-known instance of this is the Carbon Nadsat meta-value, which determines what your God Tier Hoodie looks like. Extremely useless to know, but the last digit of the Carbon Nadsat string shows up on a specific mirror in the Panoramic Imaginarium, which is doubly useless and only exists to cause confusion. It mainly seems like I'm shouting brain damage at you, and I am, but I'm just establishing the base here.

What happens next is that this "junk number" gets noticed by the game. I imagine due to a programming error of some sort, but it could potentially be deliberate, if it "needed" a number and so scours its own code for one. Once noticed though, the "junk number" gets turned into a "recurring number" due to the game's own pattern-seeking behaviors. SBURB is basically an elaborate attempt to craft a grand narrative or mythoi of sorts, or a "shitty play where you don't have a script and the audience shoots you if you're a bad actor" as some people think. Your Class and Aspect are themes you craft a character from, your Land and Quest are a "stage" and framework that character can evolve from, and in much the same way those elements are made relevant over and over again for the player's "benefit" of being able to play their role, the number essentially become another recurring motif. Not one it enforces, I don't think anyone died because they purposefully scheduled an important event a day off from their session's "significant date", but it recurs nonetheless, and the game might follow its own baton by either causing events to manifest around the number, or the number to manifest around events.

As for why 413 is a common number, I think it's because April 13 is the "official launch date" of SBURB. That one's pretty consistent. Not everyone played the game on 4/13 mind you, sometimes they received it on 4/13 and played it weeks or months later, sometimes they got their hands on an unofficial leak, and sometimes they find it tucked away in a box somewhere, the game having released on an April 13 decades in the past. But no matter what, the constant is that SBURB launched on April 13. So I imagine 413 is a common "recurring number" either because of some Carbon Nadsat-esque shenanigans (where it's picks a number completely arbitrarily and it just happens to be that specific number most of the time), or because the release date is one of the first numbers you see in the "pre-session", and the game prioritizes it based off of what's on the player's minds.

#sburb #replay value au #413

[eucanthos]

Giōrgos Lazogas   (GR, 1945 - 2022)

_

Trojan Horse - Pegasus, 1987. Drawing

“With Pegasus you save the Myth, with the Trojan Horse you win Troy, with Bucephalus you reach the edge of the world” GL

Σχέδιο 1987: «Με τον Πήγασο διασώζεις το Μύθο, με τον Δούρειο Ίππο κερδίζεις την Τροία, με τον Βουκεφάλα φθάνεις στην άκρη του κόσμου. Το άλογο είναι το σύμβολο της πόλης μου». Γ.Λ.

https://www.namuseum.gr/periodic_exhibition/to-chtes-einai-tora-lt-br-gt-giorgos-lazogkas-mythoi-kai-archaiotita/

#Giorgos Lazogas #painting #abstract #horse #drawing #gr #mythology

[tflegendarium]

I have decided to make a side blog dedicated entirely to my Transformers fan continuity! I can't draw so unfortunately you won't get any charming pictures from yours truly. Everything will be written and eventually posted. It's a rather big project from my notes and evolving! It's fun though and comes from a place of love.

I'll upload ideas and inspiration here. Feel free to ask questions and interact.

(If anyone besides the Discord sees this that is.)

Some Quick Facts:

Title - Transformers: Legendarium

Universal Stream - Mythoi 0123.28 Iota (I wanted to give myself a label.)

Authors - Only Myself (@shychangling has inspired some ideas with Armada Lore drops. The Roommate has also been providing Lore and suggestions. Sometimes unintentionally.)

Rating - Mature

Link - Ao3 Link

Length - Monstrous, Titanic, Oversized Ridiculous Thing

#tf legendarium #tf fan continuity

[apollomes-supremacy]

Perseus 🐍⚔️🏺

#Perseus #Medusa #Medousa #Gorgon #Greek mythology #greek myths #greek myth #mythology #myth #myths #mythos #mythoi #greek mythos #greek gods #ancient greece #greek heroes #art #my art #mine #digital art #character design #greek vase

[acluke-author]

https://mythoi.substack.com/p/the-mad-gasser-of-mattoon

Mythoi is my newsletter about folklore and tabletop RPGs!

A phantom figure stalks the small town of Mattoon, releasing poisonous gas into people's houses. Is he even real, and if he is, what does he want?

#ttrpg #folklore #urban legends #mad gasser #mattoon #dnd #mythoi #Dungeons and Dragons #5e #osr #gumshoe #esoterrorists #my writing

[juniperleafdelivery]

* hey there! this one shot is basically the result of me going "hey what if i took the coffee shop trope but added vampires" and then getting way too invested-

* but yea! we got vampires, we got a coffee shop, and we also got cheesy romance! even if that's not your thing, maybe give this a shot?

“Clyde, what are you going to be for Halloween?” a voice asked. The camera refocused, zooming in on a short, cheerful blonde kid with blue eyes. He held up a black and red cloak, clearly handmade, and bared his teeth.

“A vampire!” The video ended with collective laughter.

Yea, that’s me. Clyde Walton. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been a vampire enthusiast. Something about them always fascinated me. Maybe it was the blood drinking, or the immortality. Or maybe it was the fact that kid me had never met a vampire, letting his imagination run wild.

The other person in the video is my sister Juliette. She’s three years older than me. We used to live together near Bergamot University. That’s where Juliette got her veterinary medicine degree. I still live there, but she moved out to live with her boyfriend. His name’s Drew Kitts, and he’s a wildlife photographer. Drew’s a great guy; practically my older brother.

I’m currently a sophomore at Bergamot, trying to get a degree in mythical zoology. Mythical zoology is similar to regular zoology, except you study non-humanoid mythoi. Mythoi is the general term for mythical or magical creatures, and they can be broadly organized into humanoids or non-humanoids. Humanoid means a human-like form or characteristics, and those mythoi can live safely in the company of humans and in human environments. Non-humanoid means a non-human form or characteristics, and those mythoi live outside of human civilization. It’s either their own preference or because they can’t live in a predominantly human habitat.

Juliette’s a veterinarian for non-humanoid mythoi, but there are doctors for humanoid mythoi too. And Drew photographs both non-humanoid mythoi and regular animals. There’s often several variations of the same job, simply because there’s a lot of different beings out there.

Anyways, I got lucky and received a scholarship from Bergamot that covers most of my tuition costs. I also picked up a job at a place called Night Light Cafe. Since I have classes in the morning, I come in the evening and on weekends. The cafe is both a bookstore and coffee shop, owned by a sweet owl named Woodsie. Including me, there’s five employees total.

There’s Jun, a satyr, who does the evening shift with me. Viridian, an otter rex rabbit, manages the bookstore in the morning. Steve — he’s going to Bergamot with me — does the afternoon shift. The bookstore closes in the evening, around the same time my shift starts. And of course, Helios, a flame elemental, handles the morning and noon shifts for the coffee shop. They’ve been working with Woodsie ever since the cafe was first opened.

Night Light Cafe is a small business, so most of our customers are regulars. Sometimes Woodsie drops by if business is really slow. It was on one of these slow nights, with Jun in the back and me holding the front, that someone new showed up. It’s easy to notice a new face, especially at night with less people around. But something about this guy caught my attention.

For starters, he was at least a foot taller than me. Which wasn’t that surprising, considering that I’m shorter than pretty much everyone. He also looked physically strong, like he was the kind of guy who worked out often. And as he came up to the counter, I noted that he had short black hair and deep brown eyes.

“Hey, how can I help you?” I gave the usual greeting. He looked at me with a polite smile. “Good evening. I’ll, um, just have a coffee.”

“Hot coffee?”

“Yes, a hot black coffee. And that will be all.” He looked away after these words, fidgeting with his sleeves. It was a gray turtleneck, paired with a black jacket. Seemed like he preferred monochrome colors.

Focus, Clyde. Quit thinking about this guy’s taste in clothing. I pressed the cash register’s buttons with a little more force than necessary, then told him the total. As he handed me the money, I asked, “Could I get your name?”

“My- my name?” He blinked, looking very surprised by the question.

“It’s for the order. Just so I know who it’s for, yea?”

“Ah, right.” He seemed almost... disappointed by that. “It’s, uh, Max.”

That should have been the end of it. I should have gotten Max his coffee, wish him a nice night, then never think of him again. I looked up at him and our eyes met for a split second too long. I saw that his canines were unusually pointed. Almost like vampiric fangs.

“Max... is that short for something?”

“Er, yes, my full name is Maximillian.”

I smiled. It was a genuine one, not the flashy customer service smile I often wore. “Maximillian. That’s a nice name. I’ll get your coffee now, yea?”

The coffee machines were in the back, so I went there to both grab the coffee and ask Jun a very important question. She was taking inventory, carrying a notebook and pencil in her hands.

“Need help up front?” Jun turned to me, running a hand through her curly brown hair.

“Nah, it’s fine.” I began pouring coffee into a cup. “Hey, Jun, isn’t one of your professors a... vampire?”

“Yep, my history professor. Professor Glassford. Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious-” I paused, reconsidering my words. “Give me a moment, then I’ll tell you. I gotta get this coffee out.”

“Sure thing.”

Night Light Cafe has large glass windows, with ornate frames and curtains. I saw Max standing by one of them, seemingly lost in thought. I glanced down at the cup, then back at him. A smiley face next to his name. Real smooth. I sighed. Well, it’s written in permanent marker, so you can’t take it back now.

“Yo, Max!” He immediately turned around, eyes seeming a little brighter, and walked over. “Here’s your coffee. Have a nice night.”

“Ah, thank you. I appreciate it.” Max hesitated for a moment. “I’ll see you next time, I hope?”

Honestly, this was starting to feel a lot like the plot of a cheesy romance movie. Except I probably wouldn’t get the guy in the end. But I nodded anyway, a smile making its way onto my face. “I’m here every night. Stay safe, yea?”

Jun suddenly appeared from the back, holding a paper bag. “Would you like a muffin to go? It’s on the house.”

“I- um, are you sure?”

“Of course! Unless you’re allergic to eggs or blueberries.”

He took the bag, giving Jun a grateful look. “No allergies here. Thank you, madam.” Taking the coffee and muffin, Max nodded goodbye to both of us. As the door swung shut, Jun leaned on the counter and shot me a questioning stare. “So... mind telling me why you’re asking about Professor Glassford?”

I picked up a towel and went to wipe down the tables. “I was just thinking about Max- that guy who just came in.”

“The one you were flirting with?”

“Hey, I wasn’t flirting with him!”

She laughed, green eyes shining. “Yea, I know, I know. He seemed real nice though. Very polite. What, do you think he’s a vampire?”

I hesitated to answer. There were several signs pointing to that conclusion. Most obvious, the fang-like teeth. The canines of vampires are sharper than an average human’s for the purpose of, you know, biting people. If I remember correctly, biting the jugular vein is how someone can be turned. Less obvious, but still a factor, was that Max had come in the evening. While the stereotype about moonlight healing vampires isn’t true, it is beneficial to vampires, like how sunlight helps humans make vitamin D. Nighttime is easier and better for most vampires, as prolonged exposure to sunlight can have lasting or even fatal effects on their health.

I finished wiping down the tables and went back behind the counter. Grabbing a bottle of water, I shrugged. “It’s just a guess. Vampire or not, it doesn’t matter to me. He’s just another customer.”

“You want to become closer to him,” Jun observed bluntly. I nearly choked on my water, shooting her a look of disbelief. She shrugged, completely nonchalant. “If you’re interested in him, then I have nothing against it. And hey, I think you have a good chance. You’re great with people, and he seemed pretty keen on seeing you again.”

I wiped a hand over my mouth, refusing to meet Jun’s eyes. “I... don’t know. I have zero relationship experience. And besides the fear of rejection, I don’t want an immortal being to remember my crap until the end of time. And what if I end up hurting him more than me...?”

“Well, that’s the thing about life. It’s unfortunate, but pain is a natural, if not inevitable, part of life.” She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “Whatever happens Clyde, I’m sure it’ll turn out fine. Mind closing up tonight?”

I nodded. “Yea, I got it. Thanks Jun.”

“No need to thank me. See you tomorrow. And hope that your future sweetheart shows up too.”

I gently shoved her away. “Get out of here.”

“How cruel!” Jun laughed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Keys are in the same place, alright? Get home safely, and good night!” She waved me goodbye and slipped out the door.

Locking up was a familiar routine, one that I didn’t need to put much thought into. Which was both a blessing and a curse, I suppose. I kept mulling over my conversation with Jun, and my brief interaction with Max.

Look, you have no idea whether or not he’s actually interested. Why are you so smitten with someone you’ve just met? You don’t know anything besides his first name! I stepped out of the cafe, breathing in the chilly air in an attempt to clear my thoughts. But the drive home only brought them rushing back.

“I’ll see you next time, I hope?” His words sounded so genuine. It was hard to dismiss him as simply being polite. Reaching a stop light, I rubbed my face with my hands and groaned. This wasn’t the first time I had some fanciful crush. But it was certainly the first time I had a crush on someone who was (probably) a vampire. You know, the mythoi I studied and revered for so much of my childhood? Funny how the first time I do meet a vampire, I wind up falling in love with him!

Finally arriving at home, I shoved away unwanted thoughts and went into the house. It was 8:17 PM, meaning Juliette might be free to talk for a few minutes. Maybe she can help you figure out this mess.

She picked up on the first ring. “Clyde! How are you? Is everything good at school? How about the cafe?” There was a brief pause. “Or are you calling me for some advice?”

I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. My sister was always more observant than me, able to guess people’s thoughts with almost clairvoyant accuracy. “School’s fine. The cafe’s fine too. Just another slow night. I also- I also met someone at the cafe earlier. His name’s Maximillian. Or, well, Max.”

“Ooh, love advice?” Juliette laughed, the sound bright and sunny. “Can’t believe you haven’t gotten a boyfriend yet! You’re one of the most charming guys I know. But anyways, tell me about this Max.”

“I mean, I literally just met him today, so I can’t say much. But... but I think he’s a vampire. I’m pretty sure. He’s also really tall and muscular.” I felt my cheeks heat up, but continued talking. “He’s also really polite, and has this very sophisticated way of speaking. Almost like a professor or something.”

“You want to hear my advice, bro?”

“That’s why I’m calling you.”

“You’ve fallen head over heels for this guy. Seriously, it sounds like love at first sight.”

I nearly dropped my phone, thrown off guard. “...give me a second, I need to sit down.” I half sat, half collapsed into a faded yellow armchair.

“Sorry, was that too blunt?” Juliette’s voice was filled with concern.

“No, you’re fine. I just- well, wasn’t expecting that.”

“I have some more serious advice if you want to hear it.”

“Shoot.”

“If he comes back again, try striking up a conversation. Don’t be too pushy of course, but try to learn more about him. Maybe start with something really basic, like what his job is. And if he shows up at the cafe more often, then that’s a good sign. Focus on building that connection first, then worry about the romantic stuff. Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yea?”

“If he is a vampire, try not to get bit, yea? Or, you know, let me know if you’re considering becoming one. And don’t forget consent!”

“Juliette! I’m not- I don’t-” I protested, my face brighter than a holiday lights display. She practically cackled on the other end, clearly amused by my suffering. There was an abrupt pause, and I heard her talking to someone away from the phone.

“Hey, sorry bro, but I have to head out now,” Juliette suddenly said. “It’s nothing serious, so don’t worry. Good luck out there, and stay safe. Talk to you later.” With those words, she quickly hung up.

I leaned back into the chair with a sigh. I felt exhausted by the night’s events. Also, the idea of actually pursuing my crush was incredibly daunting. I suppose pining from afar wasn’t going to work anymore. Forcing myself out of the armchair’s comfortable embrace, I traisped over to the bathroom. It would be more productive to tackle everything after I had some sleep, instead of spending hours stressing myself out over hypothetical scenarios.

And hey, maybe Jun and Juliette are right. Whatever happens, the chances of total disaster are slim. And to Juliette’s relief, I wasn’t interested in turning into a vampire anytime soon. While that would have been a dream come true for kid me, I’d have to shelve it until I graduated college.

#this is for the *squints at poll* 6 people who wanted this haha /lh #vampire/coffee shop #my writing #i guess that's a tag now!

[chisotahn]

More of Thaleia, Tahla's Ancient self, this time showing off her abilities. She was known as the Storyteller, and one of Venat!Azem's two apprentices.

Thaleia was fascinated with stories from various cultures and walks of life, and the effects stories had on those who both shared them and heard them. In more scientific terms, a singular story was called a mythos (plural mythoi).

Thaleia would record stories/mythoi in memory crystals, and made particular study of the resonant power (later called dynamis) carried within mythoi and belief in such. Her specialty was using recorded mythoi as a blueprint for aetheric manifestations, as seen in the first two pictures.

Thaleia didn't seek out mythoi for the sake of power, though. She firmly believed that all stories were sacred and that her life's purpose was to record as many of them as possible. She reveled in having lifetimes of learning ahead.

A warm, friendly wanderer, who believed wholeheartedly that the world was full of wonder, worthy of love.

#ffxiv #ffxiv spoilers #endwalker spoilers #ffxiv: an ancient song #I love and care her #someday I'll write out more of how her powers work because I have thought about it more than was probably needed

[squirrelinameatsuit]

“Ties that Bind” in Ancient Greek

Translation:

“οἱ δεσμοί οἵ δεῖ”

τὸν θῆρα ἐσκεύασατε

ὅν ἡμίν θηρᾷ

τέρατι κακίονι ὡμίλησατε

βιοῖς παίζοντες

ὑμίν αύτοῖς ἀραῖοι

μῆτερ, πάτερ

τὸ ὄνομα καθίλετε

ἡ Πολίς ἡμῖν πρίν προσεκύνησαν

ἐδομένη σὺν τοῖς κακοῦργοις νὖν πονῶ

ὅ σπείρετε καρποῦμαι

ἕν τό θάλος

CHORUS:

ὁ δόμον αὖθις ἀρεῖται

τὸν ἀπολλύν κράτον ἀποληψόμεθα

τὸ Μίνωος ὄνομα

τὸ χρυσοῦν ἐκ τῇ τέφρᾳ ἀναπνησεται

ἐν ταῖς σκιαῖς καὶ ἀρρητοῖς

ἀμνάμουσι μυθοῖς δαρόν μεμνήκαμεν

τῆς Πόλεως ἄρξομεν

αὖθις αὖ

αὖθις αὖ

.

ἐξορθοῦν ἐπείρασα

τὰ ἄδικα

ἅ κερασφόρα τὸν βίον ἐσκιάκε

τοὺς νόους ἐκ χωρῶν διαβροχῶν ἐκσπᾶντα

ὁ τὸ ἐλευθερόν

ἐκ τοῦ αἶσχεος ᾔνησαν

λυπῇ τὸν Λαβύρινθον ἐτεύξατε

ἄν ὁ Θησεύς τὸ αἷμα κεκρύφοι

τὴν λύπιν ἐκ δεσμῶν

ὥν δεῖ οὐκ ὠνήσομαι

CHORUS

ὀ Θησεύς τὸν Μινώταυρον ἐθήρασαν

τοῖς μοῦ μιτοῖς δρᾶν ἀμηχανως οὐκ ἔσχεν

τὸν εὑρίσκειν καί ὅπλων γυμνόειν

τῷ φέρειν ἐπείρασαν

δὲ ἡ φύσις τέλος ἐνίκησεν

τοῦ ἐν μύδρῳ πέσοντος, ὁ γαῦρος

ἥρως τόλμης πάσης δόξαν ἔσχεν, τελῶν

τὴν διαφθοράν

ἐγώ αἴσχει δέομαι

CHORUS

μήτερ, πάτερ, τεθνήκατον

ὐπό τοῦ μου μελλονυμφοῦ προεδόθην

τοὺς σύνδεσμους ἄφιλους ἐσχίσαται

τὸ Μίνωος ὄνομα ὕποπτον

οὐ δαρόν ἔσται

.

Transliteration:

“hoi desmoi hoi dei”

ton thēra eskeuasate

hon hēmin thēra

terati kakioni hōmilēsate

biois paizontes

hȳmin autois araioi

mēter, pater

to onoma kathilete

hē Polis hēmin prin prosekynēsan

edomenē syn tois kakourgois nyn ponō 

ho speirete karpoumai

hen to thalos

CHORUS:

ho domon authis areitai

ton apollȳn kraton apolēpsometha

to Mīnōos onoma

ton khrȳsoun ek tē tephrā anapnēsetai

en tais skiais kai arrētois

amnamousi mythois dāron memnēkamen

tēn Poleōs arxomen

authis au

authis au

.

exorthoun epeirāsa

ta adika

ha kerasphora ton bion eskiake

tous noöus ek khōrōn diabrokhōn ekspanta

ho to eleutheron

ek tou aiskheos ēnēsan

lȳpē ton Labyrinthon eteuxate

an ho Thēseus to haima kekryphoi

tēn lypin ek desmōn

hōn dei ouk ōnēsomai

CHORUS

ho Thēseus ton Mīnōtauron ethērāsan

tois mou mitois dran amēkhanōs ouk eskhen

ton heuriskein kai hoplōn gymnoein

tō pherein epeirasan

de hē physis telos ekīnēsen

tou en mydrō pesontos, ho gauros

hērōs tolmēs pāsēs doxan eskhen, telōn

tēn diaphthoran

egō aiskhei deomai

CHORUS

mēter, pater, tethnēkaton

ypo tou mou mellonymphou proedothēn

tous syndesmous aphilous eskhisatai

to Minōos onoma hypopton

.

Back translation:

“The Bonds which Bind”

You prepared the beast

Which hunts us

Dealing with a worse monster

Playing with lives

Being yourselves cursed

Mother, father

You brought down our name

The City once fell down before us

Now I work with these criminals to eat

I reap what you sow

Your one scion

CHORUS:

My family will rise again

We’ll regain our lost power

The name of Minos

Will be revived golden from the ashes

In the shadows and untold

Forgotten stories have we remained long

We shall rule the City

Once again

Once again

.

I tried to right

Your injustices

Which, horned, had overshadowed my life

Tearing the minds from teary quarters

He freedom

From your infamy promised

You made the Labyrinth with pain

Theseus might have hidden the blood

The release from bonds

Which bind I will not buy

CHORUS

Theseus hunted your Minotaur

With my thread it wasn’t difficult

To find and disarm it

It tried to resist him

But its nature finally triumphed

After it fell into hot metal, the exulting

Hero took credit for every feat, completing

My downfall

I am bound by infamy

CHORUS

Mother, father, you both have died

I was betrayed by my betrothed

My loveless bonds were cut

The Minos name suspected

Will not for long be

.

Translator’s notes:

Line 10: “καρποῦμαι” means “I reap” in a metaphorical sense, while the word I used in “Elysian Fields” is literal. I have currently rated “proximity to tree imagery” above “character parellels” on my list of translation considerations.

Line 12: Ariadne uses the same word to describe her family as does Zeus.

Line 40: Behold “τεθνήκατον,” the only use of a dual verb in the entire album. The dual, referring to an action done by two parties, shows up in epics (like, say, The Odyssey) but not later texts (whose grammar comprises these translations). Here it should come across as dramatic and archaic, though it could also be out-of-place.

.

Questions and suggestions welcome.

#the mechanisms #ulysses dies at dawn #mechs #udad translation