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creationmytharchive · 4 years

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Chinese Pan Ku, the Creation Myth

reference link : https://www.gutenberg.org/files/15250/15250-h/15250-h.htm#d0e1278

The Fashioner of the Universe

The most conspicuous figure in Chinese cosmogony is P’an Ku. He it was who chiselled the universe out of Chaos. According to Chinese ideas, he was the offspring of the original dual powers of Nature, the yin and the yang (to be considered presently), which, having in some incomprehensible way produced him, set him the task of giving form to Chaos and “making the heavens and the earth.”

Some accounts describe him as the actual creator of the universe—“the ancestor of Heaven and earth and all that live and move and have their being.” ‘P’an’ means ‘the shell of an egg,’ and ‘Ku’ ‘to secure,’ ‘solid,’ referring to P’an Ku being hatched from out of Chaos and to his settling the arrangement of the causes to which his origin was due. The characters themselves may, however, mean nothing more than ‘Researches into antiquity,’ though some bolder translators have assigned to them the significance if not the literal sense of ‘aboriginal abyss,’ or the Babylonian Tiamat, ‘the Deep.’

P’an Ku is pictured as a man of dwarfish stature clothed in bearskin, or merely in leaves or with an apron of leaves. He has two horns on his head. In his right hand he holds a hammer and in his left a chisel (sometimes these are reversed), the only implements he used in carrying out his great task. Other pictures show him attended in his labours by the four supernatural creatures—the unicorn, phoenix, tortoise, and dragon; others again with the sun in one hand and the moon in the other, Page 77some of the firstfruits of his stupendous labours. (The reason for these being there will be apparent presently.) His task occupied eighteen thousand years, during which he formed the sun, moon, and stars, the heavens and the earth, himself increasing in stature day by day, being daily six feet taller than the day before, until, his labours ended, he died that his works might live. His head became the mountains, his breath the wind and clouds, his voice the thunder, his limbs the four quarters of the earth, his blood the rivers, his flesh the soil, his beard the constellations, his skin and hair the herbs and trees, his teeth, bones, and marrow the metals, rocks, and precious stones, his sweat the rain, and the insects creeping over his body human beings, who thus had a lowlier origin even than the tears of Khepera in Egyptian cosmology.1

This account of P’an Ku and his achievements is of Taoist origin. The Buddhists have given a somewhat different account of him, which is a late adaptation from the Taoist myth, and must not be mistaken for Buddhist cosmogony proper.2

The Sun and the Moon

In some of the pictures of P’an Ku he is represented, as already noted, as holding the sun in one hand and the moon in the other. Sometimes they are in the form of those bodies, sometimes in the classic character. The legend says that when P’an Ku put things in order in the lower world, he did not put these two luminaries in their proper courses, so they retired into the Han Sea, and the people dwelt in darkness. The Terrestrial Page 78Emperor sent an officer, Terrestrial Time, with orders that they should come forth and take their places in the heavens and give the world day and night. They refused to obey the order. They were reported to Ju Lai; P’an Ku was called, and, at the divine direction of Buddha, wrote the character for ‘sun’ in his left hand, and that for ‘moon’ in his right hand; and went to the Han Sea, and stretched forth his left hand and called the sun, and then stretched forth his right hand and called the moon, at the same time repeating a charm devoutly seven times; and they forthwith ascended on high, and separated time into day and night.3

Other legends recount that P’an Ku had the head of a dragon and the body of a serpent; and that by breathing he caused the wind, by opening his eyes he created day, his voice made the thunder, etc.

P’an Ku and Ymer

Thus we have the heavens and the earth fashioned by this wonderful being in eighteen thousand years. With regard to him we may adapt the Scandinavian ballad:

It was Time’s morning When P’an Ku lived; There was no sand, no sea, Nor cooling billows;

Earth there was none, No lofty Heaven; No spot of living green; Only a deep profound.

And it is interesting to note, in passing, the similarity between this Chinese artificer of the universe and Ymer, the giant, who discharges the same functions in Scandinavian mythology. Though P’an Ku did not have the same kind of birth nor meet with the violent death of the latter, the results as regards the origin of the universe seem to have been pretty much the same.4

P’an Ku a Late Creation

But though the Chinese creation myth deals with primeval things it does not itself belong to a primitive time. According to some writers whose views are entitled to respect, it was invented during the fourth century A.D. by the Taoist recluse, Magistrate Ko Hung, author of the Shên hsien chuan (Biographies of the Gods). The picturesque person of P’an Ku is said to have been a concession to the popular dislike of, or inability to comprehend, the abstract. He was conceived, some Chinese writers say, because the philosophical explanations of the Cosmos were too recondite for the ordinary mind to grasp. That he did fulfil the purpose of furnishing the Page 80ordinary mind with a fairly easily comprehensible picture of the creation may be admitted; but, as will presently be seen, it is over-stating the case to say that he was conceived with the set purpose of furnishing the ordinary mind with a concrete solution or illustration of this great problem. There is no evidence that P’an Ku had existed as a tradition before the time when we meet with the written account of him; and, what is more, there is no evidence that there existed any demand on the part of the popular mind for any such solution or illustration. The ordinary mind would seem to have been either indifferent to or satisfied with the abstruse cosmogonical and cosmological theories of the early sages for at least a thousand years. The cosmogonies of the I ching, of Lao Tzŭ, Confucius (such as it was), Kuan Tzŭ, Mencius, Chuang Tzŭ, were impersonal. P’an Ku and his myth must be regarded rather as an accident than as a creation resulting from any sudden flow of psychological forces or wind of discontent ruffling the placid Chinese mind. If the Chinese brought with them from Babylon or anywhere else the elements of a cosmogony, whether of a more or less abstruse scientific nature or a personal mythological narrative, it must have been subsequently forgotten or at least has not survived in China. But for Ko Hung’s eccentricity and his wish to experiment with cinnabar from Cochin-China in order to find the elixir of life, P’an Ku would probably never have been invented, and the Chinese mind would have been content to go on ignoring the problem or would have quietly acquiesced in the abstract philosophical explanations of the learned which it did not understand. Chinese cosmogony would then have consisted exclusively of the recondite impersonal metaphysics which the Chinese Page 81mind had entertained or been fed on for the nine hundred or more years preceding the invention of the P’an Ku myth.

#china #egg #chaos #panku #pangu

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houseki-no-suffering · 5 years

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Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Human AU, 1960s AU Characters: Cinnabar/Phosphophyllite, Diamond, Euclase, Bort, Alexandrite, Yellow Diamond Summary: When 19 yo Cinnabar thought of giving Phos their heart, 16 yo Phos left them to move to another town with Antarcticite. 5 years and a lifetime later, Phos makes a sudden comeback into Cinnabar’s life, helping both of them realize that running away from your problems is grossly overrated.

A/N: nnngh I can’t believe I’m finally posting this, a huge thank you to @lapishead for betareading this and to @enfphos for their patience and adorable support. Enjoy!

Just a little more.

Cinnabar kept filling all the spaces in their mind with those words, trying not to leave any room for complaints. They were clinging to the hope that, if they persisted in telling themselves that they were almost done, the words would magically start sounding true rather than repetitive. It was a cognitive thing, Alex had told Cinnabar once.

Almost done.

Cinnabar’s mind must be extraordinarily stubborn, but at least the mantra had kept them from overthinking. As a form of cognitive gratitude, they repeated those words a final time as they picked up the last cardboard box from Euclase’s car. Then they reverted back to cursing their own physical form as they panted and puffed their way up the entrance steps and then, finally, collapsed on the bare mattress as soon as they stepped foot inside their new home.

The box followed them happily, bouncing on the bed along with Cinnabar and raining its contents on top of them and all around the room. Cinnabar paid it no mind. Objects were supposed to go missing in any respectable move.

Basking in the validation that they got from the newfound chaos, Cinnabar shifted their attention to the ceiling above them. It took them a couple of seconds to decide that it was judging the incompetent way Cinnabar had carried their boxes and that it would keep judging as Cinnabar unpacked. One more reason not to start now. Even the wall knew that Cinnabar was just the pale imitation of the previous tenant, but Cinnabar had resigned to mediocrity a long time ago.

It was a nice ceiling, they supposed, white, freshly painted, and with the distinctive sand-looking roughness that characterized most things in this town. Then Cinnabar’s eyes narrowed and spotted one single black dot that was singlehandedly ruining the pristine whiteness. Bort would totally blame them for it.

Awesome.

“May I? Oh, you are done already,” Diamond’s head peeked out from behind the bedroom’s door. Their smile betrayed just the faintest disappointment for not being able to linger any further.

“Mh-h,” Cinnabar answered, still contemplating Bort’s rage. Then they remembered to let out a small, whispered “thanks,” in exchange for Diamond’s help.

“Would you like a hand unpacking? You just need ask if you do. We’d all be happy to come over, I can call Benito and Ame, we’ll be done super fast.”

“I’ll do it myself,” Cinnabar mumbled, terrified by the perspective.

“Of course,” Diamond offered them another eloquent smile. No one had been happy when Cinnabar mentioned moving out of the school dormitory. Diamond especially had not been happy when they learned that the only reason was that Bort would be moving out as well, leaving their small apartment empty for Cinnabar to occupy.

Diamond’s fingers traveled along the doorframe with delicate interest, as if following a fond memory or searching for one.

“Did my little sibling call, yet?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Dia’s eyes got tangled in a mysterious web of memories that lay just below the surface of the wood. When they shifted their gaze to the ceiling, Cinnabar expected them to point out the insignificant black spot too. “It’s been a while. They’re probably very busy with the new school and everything. I’m sure they will call. No need to be worried, they’ll be fine. They’re always fine. Bort is such a responsible cutie.”

A weak “of course,” was all the sympathy Cinnabar managed to offer. Even when threading carefully among sibling rivalries and unresolved conflicts, the truth was that they would miss Bort too.

Without Bort, Cinnabar would probably lack both a place to call their own and a sense of independence. They were afraid that their newly discovered sense of self would crumble like a sand castle in a couple of days without Bort’s cement-strong pragmatism to keep it in place. Therefore, Cinnabar made a mental note to find some courage to call their friend before the castle collapsed. Bort had already done them the favor of providing the apartment with a phone, so Cinnabar could return the courtesy by sparing Dia the awkwardness of calling their sibling first. One of these days. In the near future. Eventually.

“Yeah,” Dia nodded again, more to convince themselves than Cinnabar, equally hurt and relieved by knowing their little sibling was hundreds of kilometers away. “And what about my Shinsha, will you be okay, dear? Don’t you think you’ll feel alone all by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m here, you can still… call, or drop by, I guess… it’s okay.”

“Of course, I’d love to. And I really need to bring you some flowers, this place needs waaay more colors, wouldn’t that be cute?.”

“Okay.”

Diamond giggled at Cinnabar’s lack of interest.

“You can tell me I’m being silly. Stupid, little, apprehensive Dia. I’ll shut up, no more talking, no no,” they admonished themselves. “So, I guess I should be going now…”

Cinnabar didn’t answer. Diamond picked up their coat from the chair next to Bort’s bed, their eyes lingering on the cardboard boxes and clothes lazily scattered around the room.

“I’m gonna miss you a little, I know it’s still the same,” they hurried to add, “but just a little bit, a tiny little bit,” they chuckled, “alright. I’ll see you around, bye-bye, Shinsha.”

“Bye.”

Diamond gave one last look at the room, their eyes finally noticing the tiny dot that had ruined the flawlessness of the ceiling all by itself. They knew, too, that Bort would hate it.

Diamond smiled.

Then they waved goodbye to their friend again and walked out of Cinnabar’s apartment.

—

Diamond was right when they said it would still be the same. That was exactly one of the reasons Cinnabar was terrified it would all come crumbling down.

Bort’s apartment was little more than one block away from the dormitories of the institute, which meant that Cinnabar would still stumble upon friends and family anytime they went to the library, ventured outside to buy groceries, or simply decided to take a walk. They would still meet familiar faces every day at work.

Bort’s apartment was the farthest Cinnabar could presently dare to get from everything, and yet it was barely any distance at all. It should be pathetic that it had still taken Cinnabar five whole years to get to this point. And that they were still tempted to throw it all away the second Bort’s train disappeared behind the horizon. Bort was wrong in believing that Cinnabar’s confidence needed more careful patching up. It needed to be rebuilt from scratch altogether.

Cinnabar’s best days were the ones when they would woke up and feeling bitter about it. When the desire for a stable sense of self was something they cared enough to miss. But most days they were just hungry for isolation. The company of old, useless memories still more appreciated than that of the present.

The pebbles of the road crunched under Cinnabar’s feet as they walked to the library. It was hot, irritatingly hot for a late summer day. Cinnabar should have tied their hair up and slowed their pace. Each extra movement was an admission of weakness against the supremacy of the heat.

For as much as Cinnabar hated cleaning, the fact that Bort had trusted them with an apartment to care for was nothing short of a miracle. And it said something about Bort’s excessive optimism toward Cinnabar. Cinnabar was not sure what was most surreal between leaving the dorms and have someone blindly believe in them.

As they pushed open the library’s front door, Cinnabar made a reluctant mental note to find the strength to unpack at least one or two boxes before going to bed. Looking at those boxes had a mysterious, therapeutic effect on Cinnabar’s mind, an illusion of productivity, a sign that something new and exciting was still happening. As long as at least one cardboard box was still around, the apartment would still be getting used to Cinnabar’s presence. And it would be easier to leave.

“G’ morning,” they signaled their presence, closing the door behind them.

“Hello, hello! My, did you time me? I was just about to leave,” Alexandrite’s energetic voice greeted them in the midst of their hurried chaos, “Papers are on my desk, books must be re-shelved, dust is piling up everywhere, this place looks more and more like a tomb with each passing day, but isn’t that fascinating? Gosh, just like a good old expedition down south, we should all visit Greece one of these days. Very informative. Very hot, as well. Always bring a hat. But do leave the dust, atmosphere is always important, people who complain can do so in my face.”

“Alright.”

Picking up equally fundamental objects from completely different parts of the room, Alexandrite’s storm quickly approached Cinnabar, briskly retrieving the last missing items— a summer coat and a hat— from the hanger behind Cinnabar’s shoulders. Cinnabar drew back carefully, on the verge of losing balance.

“Late, late, late,” Alex chanted as they hurriedly put on the coat, despite the temperature outside, fighting to keep in balance the absurd amount of papers and notes that they were holding to their chest. Cinnabar reached forward in a timid attempt to help, which Alex, in their hurry, failed to notice.

“Goddammit, I need more hands.”

“Need a bag or something?”

“Nature gave me arms so I could use them.”

Cinnabar’s mouth twitched, any further remark concerning Alex’s clothing would be disregarded in the name of eccentricity— or of pleasing a wide fanbase of young, curious students. Even retired academicians had expectations to live up to.

“Laaate,” Alex chanted one last time when they finally managed to put an arm in the correct hole of the coat, the papers still precariously squished against their chest. “Alright, I’m off. Take care of the place for me.”

“Don’t kill any kid.”

“Ah! I’ll try,” and then Lexi stormed out of the door, a couple of sheets of paper following after them, as late as their author.

Cinnabar mused for a second whether to catch them while Alex was still in earshot. Instead, they observed the papers’ silent fall until gravity reduced them to unresponsive leaflets. Then Cinnabar picked them up and walked back inside to put them on the front desk. Golden puffs of dust welcomed them on the wood.

Just like an old tomb.

—

Cinnabar didn’t make a habit to eavesdrop on other people in the library. No matter how loud the words, arguments and gossip just flowed away from their mind in a stream of lazy disinterest. It was one of the reasons Jade had stopped asking them to collaborate in the newspaper. Library news was lost to Cinnabar’s attention.

And yet, today’s buzz had managed to dig itself a small, tiny hole in Cinnabar’s mind. Scattered words and sentences made them uneasy, bits and pieces connecting to old images that Cinnabar had repressed years ago and only dug up when they felt like self-loathing.

They shouldn’t care, they knew better than to care again, but memories of a coach lazily departing from town crawled their way to the surface of Cinnabar’s consciousness.

It was so easy to remember the salt from the sea itching Cinnabar’s nostrils, the way the fresh breeze of that morning had dried cold tears on their cheeks. Several people had gathered in the piazza to watch that coach leave, waving, lingering, wishing they could leave too.

Cinnabar had climbed up to the last terrace of the lighthouse, breathing in the dawn and despising themselves for looking down at the piazza, too, still incredulous at what was happening. A part of them had even tried to spot a glimpse of teal hair through a windowpane, but the coach was too far gone already. The vehicle disappeared in the fog without noticing Cinnabar’s presence.

They still thought about that day, from time to time. It still felt like a surreal, bad dream. They wondered what had happened to a specific couple of passengers, and they still commiserated themselves for not being able to wish misfortunes on other people.

Cinnabar shouldn’t care anymore, but those voices had dusted off old aches and now it was hard to bury them again.

In an attempt to distract themselves, Cinnabar focused on the ridiculous amount of papers that they were carrying, because of course Alex had fallen behind on grading tests. And, since the thought of more work was not enough, they resolved to stop by Euclase’s shop as well, hoping that the familiar anxiety from social interactions would drown any other preoccupation.

Euclase’s grocery store was almost exactly halfway between Cinnabar’s new house and the school. It sat at the intersection of the town’s main road and the long, meandering street that led to the sea. The little shop was just one story tall but occupied every square centimeters with conscious pride, aware of its position at the very heart of the city.

The silvery chant of a wind chimes welcomed Cinnabar as they pushed open the door. It was almost closing time and the setting sun bathed the ambience in the sepia immobility of a photograph. Even Euclase was lost in the peachy hues that clothed the evening. Seated in contemplation behind the cash desk, they gave the impression of dozing off in a coat of warm sunlight.

At the sound of the wind chimes, Euclase turned their head immediately, waking up from their dream. Cinnabar offered a small nod as greeting.

“Oh, hi, Shinsha. I wasn’t expecting you. Can I do something for you?”

Cinnabar’s heart took a dull leap at the mention of not being expected. They breathed in a small gulp of evening.

“I’m just… stopping by, I guess…”

“Of course, of course. How are you, dear? Are you alright?”

Cinnabar nodded, but only when Euclase’s eyes widened in surprise did they realize that Euc’s question had not been mere politeness.

“That’s good, I’m glad, really.”

With quick precision, Cinnabar’s mind enumerated and evaluated all the things that could be wrong with Cinnabar or that Euclase might be concerned about. Their heart made another leap as anxiety washed over them.

“What’s up?”

“So you don’t know yet…” Euclase murmured and Cinnabar’s pulse quickened as they thought about the buzz that they had heard in the library that morning.

They wanted to walk to the cash desk, slam their hands on the counter and ask for explanations, or maybe storm out of the shop like the mature person they were, but their feet were cowardly glued to the ground, surrounded by warm, sticky sunlight.

“Is it about the apartment?” they asked, but they already knew the answer. Euclase shook their head no.

“Now, what I’m about to say might upset you,” they began, walking toward Cinnabar with a sweet, motherly smile plastered on their face, “but please, I’m sure we can find a way to deal with this. I know it’s going to be alright-“

Halfway through Euclase’s speech, Cinnabar had spaced out. If this were Sensei instead of Euclase, he would have patted Cinnabar’s head, offering a gentle smile. But Euclase was not Sensei, no matter how much they tried to walk in his steps. They just stood in front of Cinnabar, smiling, mindful not to hug or touch them, ready to deliver the blow with artfully coated sincerity.

“-there must be a reason why Phos is back in town and the least we can do is offer our support and our love. I’m sure we can all get along again as a family-“

Cinnabar’s throat was heavy, as if something was stuck inside of it and refused to be swallowed. As if someone had sat on Cinnabar’s ribcage, pushing all the air out of their lungs, and Cinnabar wanted to cry, had to cry, but couldn’t.

“So they come back, now…” they murmured.

“Yes,” Euclase seconded them, happy to see a reaction from Cinnabar’s side, “Phos has come back home.”

way to end chap 1 on a cliffhanger, but thank you so much for reading to this point! I’ll be super happy if you give this AU a chance: I poured my soul into this story and I love how it came out. I’m shooting for weekly chaps, but we’ll see how that goes. In the meantime let me know what you think of this: any kind of feedback is great!

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #cinnaphos #cinnabar #phosphophyllite #1960s au #fic tag

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bewitched-moons-world · 5 years

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Crash Course On Fake Stones/Misrepresentations

Quartz:

+If your quartz has tiny air bubbles it’s glass.

+If it’s got a fruit name it’s dyed. End of story. (strawberry, cherry, lemon, pineapple, blueberry) yes there may be some very rare exceptions-fire quartz being dubbed strawberry- but due to the rise in fakes with that name it’s generally called fire quartz now.

+Aura quartz is a regular quartz that’s been bonded with another material. (man made)

+Cinnabar Infused Quartz usually reconstituted and mixed together to make a red crystal.

+Green quartz can be grown in a lab and anything that forrest green color is lab grown.

Turquoise:

+Magnesite and howlite look very very similar to turquoise when they’ve been dyed, magnesite will have very deep cracks in it though.

+No there is no white turquoise.

+You can do a uv test to see if it’s real

Amber:

+Often faked with Copal. They look nearly identical.

+Amber will float in salt water - copal will not.

Irradiated/dyed stones:

+Very vibrant colors!!

Irradiated: (they irradiate the crystals to get a deeper or more vibrant color)

+deeply pigmented topaz or kunzite

+dark (almost black) smokey quartz

+very deep pink or red tourmaline

+colored diamonds

+some cultured pearls

+vibrant yellow heliodor

Dyed:

+Pearls

+Agate

+coral

+other stones may be dyed as well, generally if it looks fake..it is.

Heat treated stones: (really not a bad thing but if you’re going for natural)

+Amethyst-lighten color+remove brown

+Citrine-heat treated amethyst.

+Aquamarine-remove green

+Ruby-clearer stone

+Sapphire-clearer stone

Rainbow Cal-Silica:

+Nope, completely fake 100%

+Literally just car paint layered with calcite and resin.

Citrine: (I’m so sorry)

+Much of the citrine on the market is lab made.

+If it’s lab made it’s usually amethyst that’s been heated until it changes color

+The bottom of these stones will be white with more color at the tips.

Lapis Lazuli:

+High quality is vibrant blue, hard to come by, and very expensive.

+Low quality howlite, jasper or sodalite is dyed blue, and passed off as lapis.

+Acetone will remove the dye but damage the stone.

Obsidian:

+The clear green obsidian you see all over ebay is slag glass.

+Natural green obsidian has been found but it is opaque and is more gray than green.

+there is red obsidian as well but again, it’s not a vibrant red and is more brick colored.

+Wikipedia is not always right.

Goldstone:

+it’s glass it’s legitimately just glass

Opalite:

+also glass.

+real opalite exists but it’s green and not commonly found

+once again, don’t believe everything on wikipedia.

Bismuth:

+Doesn’t naturally form in the crystals, lab made!!!

+really pretty though

Hematite:

+Not naturally magnetic!

+Magnetic hematite is 100% man made!

Jade:

+Real jade is heavy! A way to tell if it is real is that it’ll be heavier than it looks.

+Jade is faked with the following:

+Serpentine “New Jade” or “Olive Jade”

+Prehnite

+Aventurine quartz

+Grossular garnet “Transvaal jade”

+Chrysoprase “Australian jade”

+Malaysia Jade- dyed quartz that may be called by its color – Red Jade, Yellow Jade, Blue Jade

+Opaque dolomite marble “Mountain Jade” (usually dyed)

Dragon vein agate:

+Quench cracked, bleached, and dyed agate and some is quench cracked, and dyed glass.

Snowflake obsidian:

+Being faked with a very low grade cheap dalmatian jasper.!

+Snowflake will be gray while Dalmatian should have a lighter color

Hollow galena:

+A lot of pieces have been proven to have been faked through sand blasting + similar techniques (but there may be real ones I’m not 100%)

Charoite:

+Chinese Charoite doesn’t exist.

+If it’s called that then it’s not real, real charoite isn’t banded and is more swirly.

Moldavite:

+Very very commonly faked!!

+Biggest giveaway is the ‘wet’ look a faked piece has due to the molding process

+White moldavite doesn’t exist!!

Sunspar:

+It’s really just yellow Labradorite, which isn’t a very rare gem

Andara Crystal:

+no such thing

+massive scam

+literally chunks of slag glass, worth like, .1% of what they are sold for.

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lookitsahinkle · 6 years

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The Unsettling Truth About Phos’s New Legs

So someone made a post here connecting the Admirabilis to the gem dust on the moon, and it has been on my mind ever since, but I really had nothing to add to it until I was re-watching the series with my sister, and she asked me to explain what agate is, and I had to restrain myself from talking about this theory to someone who hasn’t seen past episode 5.

Anyway, I've thought a lot about the implications of something like this, since to me, it seems exactly like something Ichikawa would definitely do, even if it's not how we want think, because she is a master at relating these small, insignificant things to larger events later.

Before I go on, this might not cover much past the anime, mainly because

I am against using fan subs, and I only bought up to volume 5 and am waiting for volume 9 to drop before I order the rest because shipping from Japan is expensive, so I can't properly source anything beyond that.

--WITH THAT BEING SAID--

I encourage everyone to go read the original post because it is fantastic and had me thinking for days, but in a short summary, it pointed out how the Admirabilis have been eating the "sweet sand" of the moon, which is mostly actually the gem dust scattered about the surface.

So while I was watching episode 5 (Chapter 11), Rutile is talking to Phos about attaching the shell thorns as legs but is really concerned about actually going through with it. As per exposition, Rutile explains that in order to replace a body part with another stone, it has to have no inclusion dwelling inside of it. Rutile appraises the inside as a piece of agate and the outside is something softer than Phos, but then pesters Phos about what the thorn actually is, since they are not too sure about this procedure.

Going back to the theory, the composition of the shell would make sense. Shells are made out of calcium carbonate, which has a Mohs hardness of 3, less than 3.5/Phos. I'm no snail biologist, but I'm pretty sure that growing shells is similar to growing hair and nails, in that the growth happens on the inside and pushes out, so it then also makes sense that the inside would be filled with the agate, since Ventricosus explains that eating on the moon made their people grow massively in size.

That then brings us to Ventricosus's shell, since it doesn't seem like it was filled with agate like Aculeatus's shell. In Episode 4 (Chapter 10) Aculeatus points out that Ventricosus was the only one who kept their mind on the moon. This might be a correlation, which makes me wonder if the reason the Admirabilis were so mindless was in some way connected to the fact that they had bits of tens(? Hundreds? Who knows how many gems are on the moon) of different personalities influencing them, which would then makes sense how Aculeatus regained their sanity shortly after leaving that shell.

WHICH THEN makes me wonder then, does that mean that the inclusions are still there within Aculeatus's shell?

Rutile points out that they need a piece without inclusions in order to attach to Phos, but it isn't clear whether or not Rutile can tell if there are inclusions in the stone, which leads me to think that there most definitely are inclusions in the legs that were attached to Phos, for two reasons:

1) If the inclusions are the remains of living creatures that underwent millennia of crystallization at the bottom of the ocean, I doubt that something as calm as digestion-via-snail would be able to kill them.

2) Phos's legs behave very strangely after being attached, starting by not moving at all and then working far too much for our little protagonist to keep up with. From what I've heard, it seems that this is exactly how attaching Lapis's head went down, since Phos started by taking a century long nap, before then being worn out by Lapis's different abilities being too much to handle (again, haven't actually read that part yet, so I don’t know if this is correct). Lapis's head is full of inclusions (obviously), so in parallel, I think that it would make sense that the abilities of all of the gems taken and spread across the moon, having been dissolved and reformed together, would give Phos the attributes of a gem who is significantly faster and more agile (sorry Phos).

This then, going about this like a mathematical proof, made me wonder if maybe Phos's personality also changed like the Admirabilis, before I whacked myself for even having to ask that question.

I went back to Episode 10 (chapter 22), where Alexi speculates that gems may rewrite their personalities to fit their new composition whenever their bodies are broken and replaced with new bits. I think Alexi is on the right path, but not how they expect.

When Phos loses their legs, they don't change thaaaat drastically, but they do seem more tired and less of that spunky child they started as. However, once Phos loses their arms, they lose a lot of inclusions that were previously competing with the number of separate inclusions and different personalities. In fact, I'm willing to bet that Phos's personality change could be due less to a loss of phosphophyllite but more to a replacement with separate gems (oh, and you know, all of the trauma too, but that is a separate matter).

However, although I'm personally more focused on molecular biological sciences, I can't let the less-than-obvious gem elephant in the room pass. How the heck does a bunch of gem dust create agate? Agate is SiO2, so unless it is just a conglomeration of all of the amethyst # 1-32 and # 34-83, there is no way that a combination of all of those gems would result in agate.

However, metamorphic rocks, where there are separate layers of different kinds of rock appearing almost like agate, can sometimes be mistaken as such. This, while not chemically perfect, would make more sense than the shell actually being filled with agate, meaning that instead, the shell is filled with a conglomeration of all of the different gems from the moon. (Yes, I also thought about fossil agate, but that also wouldn't fit chemically, and I think the implications of a metamorphic rock build upon the themes already established). It honestly does look more like agate than metamorphic rock, but a) if we are assuming that it is just a conglomeration of all of the different gems, I am okay with saying that it would be able to look that pretty and b) if we can have full bodies of crystallized cinnabar, rutile, and phosphophyllite, then there is no reason why crystallized metamorphic rock can't also join the club of gems way too rare to actually exist that prettily in that much quantity.

--Inhales--

Anyway, I don't actually have any strong points to make with this, since I have no clue what Ichikawa actually plans to do, and based off of reading her other books, I really don't think that it will be the perfect happy ending I really want for my children. However, I thought this was really neat, and I hope that something similar to this is revealed to be cannon.

TLDR; The Admirabilis have been eating the gem dust, which is why they are mindless and huge on the moon. It also explains why Phos's legs behaved so oddly after being attached, and why their personality has changed so much, because it is not agate, but actually a combination of all of the inclusions from gems on the moon. Finally, Rutile needs to stick to corundum research, because they have no clue how to recognize agate or inclusions.

STLDR; I love this theory, bless @baka27powwaa.

#hnk #houseki no kuni #dear baka27powwaa you dont know who I am but i love you #I hope this is okay that I used your stuff #if not just let me know or something

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ilosteverythingandfoundmyself · 6 years

Text

AkaKuro Week 2018

DAY 7 (April 17) Alternate Universe (FREE DAY)

@akakuroweek I’m laaaaateeeee! Yeeeeaaah!

❤ ❤ ❤

Pairing: Demon!Akashi Seijuro x Angel!Kuroko Tetsuya

Summary: He was the most beautiful cherub, the strongest, the favorite of God. His forbidden love with the blue-haired angel led him to rebel, to go against everything and everyone just to protect their union. To go against God. Hell was the price to pay. Hell and eternal suffering.

Title: Paradise Lost

(Milton please forgive me for stealing your title.)

How many days had passed since the last fugacious glance at that anguished figure and at his blue eyes full of grief. Akashi couldn't make an accurate estimate.

Time eluded its quantification, ceasing to flow linearly.

It just didn't exist.

In that newly created dimension, everything was stagnant like a swamp in which a black net drags itself, entangling only dead things.

Akashi silently wandered across the obscure immensity of that Tartarus whose boundaries could not be seen.

Hell wasn’t an abyss where the fire devoured everything with its scarlet ferocity by blood reverberations, no!

Because burning means feeling! Because flames blaze like passion, like the rapture that two beings experience in their union!

Akashi had lost this union.

Only an oppressive pall of loss’s torment had come to life by forging itself through the dark desert that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Hell is a quagmire where life ceases to flow, where the heart petrifies itself… inert.

For Akashi, hell was the loss of the one he loved, it was the condemnation to that eternal black. No longer the blue of a swollen river would have consoled him by his miseries.

No teal could be sighted in that dark solitude.

He who once was the first warlord of the heavenly host roved in his new demonic nature like an exile pilgrim.

He walked in the night air, meandered in the darkness until the cold of that endless night penetrated in him until he himself became darkness. He wanted to be carried away by the wind of murkiness.

This devouring monster.

Akashi had shaped himself into a new form, into a demonic essence born from an internal creation of personal conceptions, of superior intelligence, not in conformity with the gregarious thought of the divine society of which he was a part; and by doing so he himself had become his creation, approaching the divinity.

The demon Akashi Seijuro was equal to God.

But at what price.

The constant research for appeasement had been configured with the pursuit of knowledge.

And knowledge is a source of pain.

When Akashi inquired into the eternal questions in a shambles of whys unanswered, he had worn himself out in a desperate inner struggle, no longer, moreover, being supported by a dogma that settles everything.

And when the vertical direction of his desire for infinity, for absolute, was amputated by a frustrating reality, the desire to win the conflict in his spirit, to assert his absolutism within himself and to the rest of the universe, led him to a rebellion in which salvation resided right in his own spirit.

But all this made sense only if shared with Kuroko because it was the angel that made spring in Akashi the feeling of rising. It was Tetsuya's strength, Tetsuya's utter love, that made life stream into Akashi's body.

Only in dividing the existence with Kuroko, only in facing reality (and sometimes to brawl) with the heavenly-eyed angel Akashi Seijuro felt as a complete and fulfilled man.

But Tetsuya was no longer part of his reality.

The entirety that he gave without parsimony no longer existed and this deletion of integrity made Akashi an individual split into two. To die inside means to take on yourself the bifurcation of the collapsed world.

Kuroko gave to the whole a sense of uniformity, between the universe and Akashi, like the texture of a damask fabric masterfully interwoven with esteemed threads.

And it is because of the lost totality that man experiences his fall.

Frowning, the demon with black wings and red hair continued to advance in his damnation. The thought of those who could no longer have, more and more vague, spectrally hovered in the head, melting like the watercolor of a sky on which tears spill over, liquefying the faint nuances of aquamarine.

The lack for those colors that he loved so much and that he coveted to see again, for those two blue fire opals, awakened a deep affliction within Akashi's soul, a dense suffering where a horrifying desire for destruction was entangled.

And sometimes, in that timeless time of a perpetual night, the memory of Tetsuya came like a sudden fist to the unarmed and unprepared heart, as always it is towards life.

Akashi, in that infernal dimension, no longer knew peace, even if he contemplated calm darkness. Disquiet and melancholy were his only companions.

Akashi slowly walked on a beach of black sand shimmering like hot asphalt. Heterochromic eyes embraced the extent of a motionless sea, with terrifying black waters.

The wan face sealed with an impious expression and the look made fierce by that golden chondrodite sun embedded in his left eye that terrified more than enlightening.

The soft lips were vibrating slowly. A sad melody made its way from Akashi's throat, dispersing in a muffled murmur.

A song that Kuroko often hummed when they were together and

What were the words?

Akashi tried to catch them in his mind.

The notes danced around like moths in the night and accompanied his hesitant soul towards reassuring melancholy: the waves of the sea at nightfall, the violet light of the summer sunset; when everything can happen and despairs are distant memories.

The reminiscence of a life spent with Tetsuya and of how the angel made him see the world shine, procured in Akashi a spasm of regret.

Nostalgia mantled everything like a smoky fog that numbs the perception of distant memories.

The nostalgia of a sweet scent, of a light, of a moment.

The longing of the sea, of its infinite reverberation in the eyes of Tetsuya.

Of the perfume of Tetsuya which gave birth, inside Seijuro’s hearth, stars flowers in the colors of the aquatic abysses.

I need infinite blue, to sink into the depths of water.

Nostalgia for the moments spent with Kuroko and the awareness that they will never come back: thus melancholy is born.

What melancholy is made of but broken illusions, past remembrances, sensations faded in the emptiness of the advancing time.

Melancholy is gray, like the limbo of a black hell full of repressed nightmares.

No more the blue dominates the inner and outer world of Akahi.

The sparks of his dreams, of his reminiscences and his unrealized, many unexpressed desires, lingered throughout the Erebus. And they fell back like ashes. Ash that covers everything in gray.

I'm dissolving into the ashes of my own visions.

Akashi had burned so much in the past as the hell he lived and now there was nothing left but this impalpable, cinereal ash.

It made everything muffled and silent, even his spirit.

Blowing on it some embers would return to burn like the red fire of passion? Or is it all inexorably extinct?

We cannot escape nothingness that destroys everything. And it leaves only an empty casing that reverberates just with distant echoes, vague memories and ungranted wishes.

Akashi returned to his fortress perched on sharp rocks. A crenellated tower rose straight up towards the plumbean sky as a blasphemy to God.

He entered his chamber. The echo of his footsteps bounced through the stone walls chasing him with eerie reverberations.

In a section of the room, situated in the in the recess of a wall, lay a mirror whose ebony frame braided baroque lines with acanthus leaves in floral and irrational forms.

Akashi approached the reflective metal. His double appeared on that surface of artificial water.

Who knows where my soul is trapped.

They say eyes are the mirror of the soul.

And those eyes, where an impetuous red cinnabar and a sublime gold in all its absolutism that cannot be understood by the mortal mind and therefore is feared were blended, those eyes did nothing but reflect the loss of Akashi, his darkness.

From the mirror, his spirit accused him through those eyes lost in the black pit of his tomb, and whispered to him: "how could you allow it?"

And Akashi didn't know what to answer.

These eyes don't belong to me. They're fading... They're fading into the night.

- - - - -

Kuroko kneeled down hours and hours on the edge of the dark precipice descending like a downward spiral. The infinite sorrow made a painful act even to breathe.

He yearned for reunification with the other half of his whole, he wanted to make Akashi feel that he was still there, that he had not stopped thinking about him, loving him, wanting him, that his presence was there, along with his Lucifer, and that he would never abandon him.

Then Kuroko closed his eyes and turned to the silvery sphere that ruled the sky of the angels, his sky.

“Please, Moon, mother of all poems, ethereal flame that glows in the night and guides us through the darkness of the heart, instill consolation to the beloved soul who lies tormenting himself in the abyss of hell. I beg you, give to him whom I love the strength and the knowledge that our love will never fade away.”

In the sidereal vault, the moon gleamed.

- - - - -

Akashi continued to remain motionless in front of the mirror, however, he looked, but no longer saw its surface. The eyes wide and empty. From the window of his room, the livid horizon could be seen.

A distant little dot, unrelated to that shadowy world, peeped into the ether.

Akashi began to perceive within himself a feeling of increasing warmth… teeming, persistent. A cerulean shimmer gently caressed the floor of the room. The demon was surprised.

"What's this? A residue of desire for life or just my illusions? "

The luminescence came from the window. He looked thru it and peered up with a frowning look.

A silvery shading glint floated on that night limply like a dreamlike vision with the falling of dawn.

How could a light survive in that place of darkness?

Akashi's eyes widened. It's really a light in the sky or it's just a deception of my emptiness, where all the blues of the world go to dip their brush in the black ink of the darkness of my heart… the place where they go to die.

But then that spectrum of mesmerizing light turned into something familiar.

Akashi could not refrain from extending his arm, his hand wide open, towards that bright source.

Because yes! No doubt! His body had been invested by a vivid and silvery lunar gleam, as if the small, powerful satellite was really there, to encircle him with its lacteous pearlescence, like it had done a thousand times when, skin to skin, he lay in a voracious hold with one of its angelic sons.

With Tetsuya.

And Akashi felt as if he had returned home after endless eons and eons of exile.

“Tetsuya…”

Tetsuya…

His angel's name formed a comforting and yet corrosive mantra in his mind.

Abstinence for Kuroko's body, his tempting flesh, was momentarily relieved thanks to that embrace of silver light.

Akashi almost caressed that beam of glow that flooded him from the window; he moved his hands as if he had Tetsuya under him as if he were touching him. His fingers intertwined with the metallic radiation that became more and more thick.

Some powder was glimpsed according to the movements of the head, infinitesimal crushing of silver dust. With dreamy gaze and still incredulous expression, Akashi ran a hand through it.

Two small diamantine drops solidified on his palm.

Tears that he could no longer pour. The tears of an angel.

Akashi squeezed the hand that held them in desperate fury, nails almost stuck in the palm. He clenched his eyes. With anguish brought his fist to his lips.

An infernal scream lacerated the harsh nocturnal silence.

#AkaKuroWeek2018 #akakuro #this is pretty lame #sobbing #idk what to do with my life #my writing

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hoennpride · 6 years

Note

aranyhíd: 'golden bridge'; the reflection of the sun as it shines upon the water.

Prompts of Promise! (Accepting)

Brendan was angrily pacing back and forth on the cold Cinnabar Island sands as the sun’s rising light reflected against it’s surrounding waters. How did he get here? Well five minutes ago he was standing in front of Saffron City’s Gym doors, being told an angry coward with weak heart had no business breathing the same air as the mistress (Gym Leader Sabrina), let alone challenging her, next thing he knew he saw a flash of light from the Gym trainer’s eyes, bringing him to his current location. Which didn’t help his mood at all, considering the Karate King he faced next door called his strength EMPTY and told him to seek inner peace.

Saffron City had not been kind of him, how dare anyone say those things to him of all people!? He saved the Hoenn region from disaster AND beat the Hoenn League! He beat The Battle Frontier as well, so HOW could his strength be empty!?! He ranted out loud to his Metagross and Blaziken, his two pokemon who became his closest confidants over the years, especially when Metagross could act as a translator between Brendan and his pokemon.

“Coward? No Inner Peace? FUCK them. Breloom swept that stupid King and if I wanted, I’m sure we could beat the Kanto League no sweat!” He said as he kicked a pebble into the water before them all. “I’ll beat the Indigo League and rubs our victory into their faces! Then they’ll have no choice but to choke on their words and admit they were full of shit.” It took a lot to make Brendan swear and it was clear from his tone he passed his limits and was livid. His pokemon traded looks before his Metagross spoke up.

“Such actions do not seem advisable in your current condition, Master. I assume their words were focused on mental and emotional frameworks of observation rather than the standard biological and physical standard used in the objective world. Since our mental connection, I have recorded repressed emotions and you growing less satisfied with victories achieved these past two years.>” Their words earned a glare from Brendan, yet they weren’t silenced by his reaction. “You won’t find satisfaction by going with that course of actions according to the data I’ve recorded over the past few months.>”

“I’ll fight for you until I die, as you my loyal friend and master, though I refuse to watch you like this any longer. Humans are strange to me, but I can tell you don’t enjoy anything you used as much. You don’t talk much to other humans outside of battles or contests and you’ve been sleeping more and yet you still appear tired.” The fact both pokemon were calling him out left Brendan making a bitter laugh at their words.

“You two are worrying about nothing. When humans reach a certain age, that stuff naturally happens. Plus all this could just mean i need a new challenge. I’m fine all around and-”, he knew his pokemon weren’t buying his words because they knew him too damn well. He simply pulled out his Super Rod fishing pole and threw a lure into the waters.

What was he angry about? What was he running from? What could possibly make him feel weak? What undermined or invalidated his strength? What him him hallow? Two words. Family Matters.

The divorce brought light to the darker and uglier side of his parents and family. It had been a couple years yet he could recall Aunts and Uncles asking if Norman beat Caroline, did she hit Norman in front of him. Was there yelling all the time? Was it true she made her only child ride in the back of a moving van? Did Norman push either if them down the stares. The questions just kept coming and then a nice cousin of him warned him about either parent becoming alcoholics post-divorce and possibly killing themselves due to grief. All this happened while Brendan was just 13.

He couldn’t speak to anyone in the League he made friends with since that could hurt his dad’s career and the LAST thing he wanted to for his dad to deal with more trouble. Plus it was private family matter, it was no one else’s business. So what if Brendan felt alone and had no one he felt he could turn to? To say how it hurt him deeply to be told that the reason his mother was so neglectful toward him was because he looked and acted too much like Norman. That she only married him because he was thug. That Norman was a pushover as a husband and thus he was not only a weak man but deserved to lose his wife to another man.

Brendan had no one to say how powerless he felt, how he just wanted all of it to stop. How he wanted to leave but didn’t want to abandon anyone. How he hated the dude his mother left Norman for after getting caught with him. He hated seeing his dad lie to his face for an entire month after the divorce, saying he was alright and trying to act as if everything would be normal again in no time. Yet despite having no one to confide in, he survived and moved on. Right?

“So Brawly told me in a year or so there going to be a World Tournament held somewhere in Unova. It wouldn’t hurt to head back to check on them and have a few sparring matches with everyone.” He didn’t want to admit he just wanted to see how his father was doing or to see May and Wally again. That would make him sound needy.

If he learned anything so far in life, is that in the end, no matter how close you are with someone, at the end of it, you only have yourself.

Tired dull eyes stared listlessly as the sun’s rays reflected off the water. Fifteen minutes have passed and not a single bite. He put his rod away and turned his face his pokemon once more.

“Let’s go home. I’ll crush Kanto later.”

#allohaoe #Tales of the Pride and Joy of Hoenn (Drabbles)#Opps I started a Trend (Meme Replies)

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ephemeralstatesofmind · 6 years

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Theory on the real motive of the Moon People

The theory will have spoilers from the manga up to chapter 62, so read with your own discretion.

So reading to the latest chapters of the Houseki no Kuni manga, it really made me thinking of the moon people’s motive, and I can’t exactly buy the whole idea they want to capture Sensei for the sole purpose of him praying for them to pass on.

Below I compiled a list of theories and evidence from both the manga and anime to what I think might be the moon people’s real motive and perhaps some ideas on how the manga might end up.

Disclaimer: I know that there are no biological genders or concrete evidence of preferred psychological perception of genders, so when I refer to a person as a “she” or “he” it is purely my own projection of how I perceive the characters. I do not have any intentions in offending anyone who otherwise assume or have no assumptions on a character’s gender. Furthermore I will be touching upon ideas of Buddhism as well as the story’s plot, but know that these are vast simplications and I do not have any formal knowledge on Buddhism- I do not intend to offend any teachings of Buddhism. I also wrote all of this trying to get my thoughts onto paper as well as I can so it might not be written very eloquently but I do hope that you will give some time and a chance to read my theory. And finally thank you if you read it until the end since I know its really long.

Doubting the moon people’s real nature. When Phos went to the moon it seemed like the moon people were not what she expected as they were kind and that they even had a civilization of their own. As she talked to the Prince, he justified that they attacked the gems because they wanted to retrieve Sensei. Their so called motive is that since they are the wandering souls of humans, they want Sensei to fulfil his original duties to pray for the moon people so they can pass on. This seems like a rather acceptable answer however there are doubts when you take into account how the moon people treated the slug people. As noted by the Queen slug,Ventricosus, when she met Phos she stated the moon people destroyed their land and abducted her people. And once on the moon, her people were treated unwell by being fed “sweet things” and “sand”.

Please make a note on the “sweet things” and “sand” as I will discuss this later on. The core point of Ventricosus’s passage is that the moon people are not as kind and otherwise harmonious as they seen. And lastly if the moon people’s centuries-long goal was to retrieve Sensei so that he can pray for them, why abduct the slug people in the first place?

The significance of the origins story. As shown in the manga and the anime, in a nutshell, many years after human civilization has died off, the humans split into three parts as what we know as the slug people- flesh, moon people- soul, and the gems- bone. So what is the significance of this origin story? I think that more than just to give the story a little “philosophical depth” I think it ties into the Buddhism imagery as well as the character’s inner troubles with immortality. As we know, many of the gems have a sense of desensitized emotions or difficulty processing the concept of death. Many of the gems seem human as they experience emotions, and even feelings of love and suffering. However they still lack that bit of humanity because they cannot process the concept of death, simply because they don’t actually experience it; unless they are permanently taken away or shattered. With the gem’s immortality, they begin to question their existence and the meaning of their lives. This results in them actually wanting to experience death as their immortality begins to weigh them down and cause them suffering. You can see this with Cinnabar as she states that she would rather be abducted by the moon people and face “death” rather than live infinitely with no purpose in her life. This is the same with Padparadscha who is eternally stuck in limbo and would rather never wake up. This craving for death is also shown by what is proposed by the Prince’s wish for death/to move on through Sensei’s prayer.

The suffering and desire of death by the gem people and the moon people ties into the themes of Buddhism. One of the core teachings of Buddhism is to escape the cycle of suffering through reaching Nirvana. Then in which you don’t have to go through the cycle of birth, suffering, and death. So in a sense, the moon people want to break their cycle of suffering through seeking a final death. And this is there where we can begin to understand, the true motives of the moon people. How can the moon people avoid suffering and achieve final death when they are immortal? Here I propose my theory and evidence that the moon people in actuality, do not necessarily just want Sensei to pray for them, in actuality the moon people want to reunite the three parts- flesh/slug people, bone/gem people, and soul/moon people to become a human whole again.

To become human again. I think the key part of how the moon people want to reunite all three parts and become human again is through Pho’s body.More specifically the living organisms/Inclusions within her. As shown, Phos’s Inclusions have no trouble accepting different gems and materializing them to become a part of her. Knowing this, the moon people might take advantage of Pho’s Inclusions and try to use them so that they can reunite as whole again. Further evidence can be seen with the “sweet things and sand” the slug people has been fed, which I touched on previously. It can be inferred that the “sand” is in actuality the grinded up captured gems that cover the Moon’s surface and that the “sweet things” are in actuality Inclusions.

There can be an assumption that Inclusions take a liquid form, because as shown through the anime, when Pho’s was eaten by the Queen slug and then later reconstructed, it was shown that a turquoise liquid was swirling and then combining back into Phos.

It is not currently known whether or not the moon people know the extent of Pho’s inclusions. Most likely far from when Phos was born, the moon people had already been abducting the slug people to experiment by feeing them the grinded gems and the “sweet things”. This might also be the significance of why the Queen was dropped onto Earth and swallowed Phos. We know that the Queen was not her typical size, since her original size was much smaller, but she was probably over fed that much so she could physically absorb a gem person.Further evidence of the moon people experimenting on Inclusions is the production of the artificial gems. As Phos took a tour on the moon she was shown the “factory” where they produced the artificial gems, there it was revealed that the moon people can create gems that look similar to the real thing and seemingly realistic Inclusions were even added to it. It was claimed that these Inclusions were so seemingly real that even Sensei couldn’t tell them apart.

This is important because this is concrete evidence that shows that there had been research to recreating real Inclusions. My belief is that instead of the focus on reproducing artificial gems, they are actually focusing on the reproduction of artificial Inclusions. The “sand and sweet things” that the Queen was referring to was actually the experimentation of creating artificial Inclusions and being fed together with grinded up gems to research on becoming a whole human again.

Saviour. Phos is a “saviour” symbolism as the Buddha that will achieve Nirvana. Phos has a lot of similarities with the origins of Buddha. The Buddha was born as a Prince and was prophesized by a monk that he was either to become a great king or a great spiritual. And through great lengths by the Buddha’s father, the King, he prevented the Buddha from experiencing the hardships of life until one day he went into town and saw suffering. This shows the parallels to Phos because for the majority of her life, she had no role within the gem community as she had no talent for anything. She merely spent her days existing in leisure. So as later decided on by Sensei, whom is also a monk (may just be a coincidence though), he finally let her start an encyclopaedia. Through that journey she met Cinnabar and discovered that she was suffering because of the poison that surrounds her. It was such a pinnacle and eye opening realization by Phos that she claims that “she will never forget it”. This meeting is similar to the story of when the Buddha went to the village and finally discovered that humans experienced suffering as he saw three things: a sickly man, an old man, and a corpse. Cinnabar’s suffering through her poison might be a parallel to the sickly man. Extending this, the corpse can also be thought of as Antarcticite’s suffering when she was “killed”. Antarcitcite’s death had an immense impact on Phos. So much to the point she begins to have hallucinations. This might also be a long shot, but the sufferings of the old man may be Padparadscha’s immortality or maybe Pho’s experience of loss as she continues to live infinitely. Another parallel that can be drawn is the wisdom that Phos gain when she met the moon people. After learning about the moon people’s ways she spread these ideas to the gems and convinced them to go with her to the moon. This is similar in the sense she is gaining follwers or disciples is through her teachings.

Phos and the gems that follow her might be the ones who are about to achieve the wisdom of enlightment. With these similar parallels I believe that Phos will be the symbolism for the Buddha she will be the one saviour that leads everyone to become one whole again and achieve Nirvana.

Significance of Sensei. Although I’ve thought much of the above points, I cannot say for sure what the significance of Sensei is. There has not been much exploration to Sensei’s past other than he used to be a machine that served the humans, but went his own way. Perhaps Sensei acts as a catalyst for the unification of all three parts. I’ve even thought that maybe he represents love- as he shows his love for the gem people. Perhaps Sensei’s reluctance to go return to the moon and “pray” for the moon people is because if he does he might lose the gems and he will become lonely. He may just “love” everyone too much to lose them all, or maybe for some other unexplained purpose.

Primordial soup. Taking into account these ideas I think that the conclusion of everything might lead to a bit of Evangelion-esque ending in which everyone ends up being unified into a primordial soup to begin the process of evolution again. Returning back to the sea and eventually becoming human again.

This theory has been bugging me last night and I’m glad to finally have it all out, but I’d love to have some input on what everyone else thinks of this.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #宝石の国 #personal #anime #manga #Phosphophyllite #antarcticite #moon people #tsukijin

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canvasrp · 3 years

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WELCOME, mindform.

WRITING PORTFOLIO

HOUSEKI NO KUNI.

cinnabar counts three moons in the sky tonight. twilight still lingers when they emerge from the cave underneath hollow cape to make the nightly rounds.

it is a pointless self-soothing habit from a less bearable time. the island was never in need of a night watch; cinnabar was merely in need of an assignment. a desire for purpose in lieu of guiding instincts. the years roll by regardless, so they might as well go on with their duty.

they wander. wading through the wetlands, ankle-deep in water and mud. the roots from failed tree stumps linger just below surface level, and might cause someone less familiar to trip and fall. only the soft rustling of the vegetation suggests movement beyond their own; the bugs scurry on their way across the water, the branches, along each blade of grass.

a minor interruption to the meditation, but no matter.

nothing of substance to find in the wetlands tonight. there almost never is. many hundreds of years ago, they might expect to find traces of battles that took place during the daytime. it stirred no excitement then, and elicits no feelings of nostalgia when they think of it now. the waters here ran deeper once.

cinnabar continues east. the rolling hills are solitary even in the day. the last of the tall, white flowers sway in the breeze, reaching for the last days of blue skies before winter chokes the life out of the earth completely.

but no dead flowers from the years before remain. organic life rots, and breaks down eventually. wishing not to disturb this gentle cycle, cinnabar makes an early turn for the school, lest the mercury that is continuously congealing in the air around them cause any further damage to this moonlit scene. yet another failure of this form. they shall have to think of the flowers again in winter, in dreams.

it’s a short walk. cinnabar passes the school, making no observation beyond its sameness. the building looms quietly over the landscape. everyone is asleep inside, and safe for now.

the clouds roll slowly overhead. only two moons remain visible; great white eyes peering down over the land like phos, whose eyes were ground to a fine dust somewhere up there on one of those moons, once did. it’s been more than half a century since then.

they keep their distance from the school, and anyone within it who may suffer harm from being near them. it’s the long way around en route to the cord shore, but cinnabar has nothing if not time. it’s still far from daybreak.

the grassland thins out gradually, gives way to the sandy beach that stretches along the southernmost tip of the island. a familiar haunt on lonesome nights.

footprints remain for a little while in the damp sand, before they’re washed out to sea along scattered gem fragments, small rocks, and various invertebrates. nothing noteworthy.

they count aquamarine, citrine, and peridot among the smaller rocks. some larger pieces, but they lack any distinct features, having been softened and dulled by the rolling waves against grains of sand. when the sky is clear, and the land is illuminated simultaneously by all six moons, the pieces, however small, shine brilliantly against the dark sea. tonight the light barely registers. hopeless, they think.

a gem of familiar tint rocks back and forth in the receding tide, plants itself firmly in her mind as an infectious memory. impervious to diseases, as all inorganic matter is, cinnabar is familiar enough with the concept of invasion to recognise a breakdown of their defenses.

phosphophyllite. scattered to pieces and buried right below her feet. each agate leg at right angles on opposite sides of the island.

and lazulis’ head, with several chunks of it lost in the heat of the moment. even as they picked up the pieces, cinnabar could not shake the thoughts of what horrid outcome would result from any attempt to piece it back together.

arms only in name. abstract appendages, horrid golden instruments with roots digging deeper and deeper into the last remaining part of the phos they once knew, the last vestiges of their namesake gemstone body.

cinnabar doesn’t know the precise location of each shard of the body. there might be hundreds, buried in precise locations for safekeeping until the master decides on a course of action, and with each piece, a severed slice of consciousness. the self completely ruptured. though it’s not as if they were in unity before then. the sinful nature and ugliness of their betrayal is nearly palpable, as if cinnabar could reach their hand into the dark, murky water and somehow feel its infected tendrils grazing against their limbs, prying for an opening.

a crack breaks them out of thought. they peer down, and find a small spiral shell cracked under the sole of their shoe. a hundred tiny pieces, some interspersed with flecks of color, seeping into sand.

they’ve nearly exhausted the stretch of beach by now. standing afore the cliff at the end, cinnabar makes a final observation of a chunk of red ruby at the very peak, which catches the moonlight at a precise angle to ignite itself inward and out with a red glow.

when it drops, it will make a fine addition to rutile’s collection.

they make sure to pass over the western side of the island before returning to the cape, though there is no practical need for this beyond extending the duration of their patrol. as they peer up at the sky they are met with a dull vastness, blotchy with slow-moving clouds, rather than a consuming darkness. two moons remain, and there is an indistinct hue of light ascending across the horizon.

so ends cinnabar’s night watch: with nothing to report, as always, and only a scattered mind to gather– a piece of it buried alongside each of phos’ fragmented selves, perhaps.

the only reprieve is sleep: cinnabar dreams of white flowers, and of butterflies, still alive amidst the poison. no monsters or regrets clawing at their heels, only a peaceful closeness.

#cv:accepted #mindform #krp

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blessedtamer · 7 years

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Practice ║ Green & Clair

The day she brought home Flareon, the whole of the village had their eyes on her, curious and questioning. They grinned to themselves as Clair released her new partner and struggled to keep her attention. They teased her, their words hurtful and mocking, and Clair felt shame and embarrassment more than she had ever before. Their eyes were on her, judging her. She'd never felt more awful. She avoided their gaze for awhile. She tried to keep out of sight. But after weeks of their playful looks and jeering laughter, Clair had had enough. She needed to get away.

The furthest she could go while still remaining in Tohjo was the Sevii Islands. While Clair had never been, she’d heard of their easygoing way of life and relaxed community. She wondered if that were truly so. The islands were in a remote area off of Kanto's coast, far from prying eyes but close enough for easy tourism: it was only a half day's travel from Cinnabar. One Island's Kindle Road attracted her. It boasted an immense and magnificent volcano, and around it the rocky sort of plains even mountainous Pokemon loved. This would be nice for Flareon, Clair thought. If she left now, nobody would notice she was missing until the morning.

Once her tentative travel plans were made, Clair told nobody where she was going. She instead wrote a hasty note to Sebastian, the clan’s deputy, informing him that she was out on vacation, and that it would be a waste of time for them to look for her. When she arrived on the island, she had nothing but the Poké Balls on her belt and her travel bag. Her old Pokégear was on silent deep inside one of its pockets. Clair stepped off of the boat and on to One Island's coastal shore, smiling broadly and taking in that sweet, salty air. It was as if the weight of the world was lifted from her shoulders.

It became glaringly obvious that life was different on the island. Nobody knew her here, nobody saw her as the arrogant and hard-to-get-along-with Gym Leader of Blackthorn City, nobody shot her dark and unfriendly looks. She was only Clair. She smiled a real smile, the first she’d done in ages, and dug her toes into the fine sand. It was like heaven against her feet. She was definitely not in Blackthorn anymore.

On the first day of her vacation, she immediately visited Mt. Ember. Flareon trailed behind, her face inscrutable. Clair let her follow at her own pace and left her alone. The second day they paid a visit to Treasure Beach, almost mingling with the locals and even enjoying a sweet Pinap Colada. Flareon lay by the shore, stoically observing Clair. She sniffed the seashells Clair brought her and let her put them on her paws. By the third day Flareon walked beside her and was even right on Clair’s heels when they climbed the entrance to Kindle Road. The Pokémon jumped back to a safe distance when she caught Clair watching her.

“This should be far enough,” Clair said, jumping on a large boulder and surveying the area. To the east was a massif that stretched the entirety of the island; the west side hosted an isolated rocky beach. To navigate the winding path they were on, one had to pass through a rugged field of tall grass and the cautious eyes of Pokemon. The route reminded Clair of an easier version of the mountain road Route 45. Without the cliffs and steep ledges of Mt. Ember, Kindle Road made for a perfect training spot for the fire-type.

Clair turned to face Flareon, excitement in her features. It was time to see what she could do. What were her strengths? weaknesses? Was she slow-footed, or was she agile? Clair grinned. Finding out the potential of her Pokemon always had her raring to go. “All right, Flareon! It's time to show me what you’ve got!” she exclaimed, cracking her knuckles. She pointed at a rock opposite them, a medium-sized boulder with a lot of cracks in it. Flareon cocked her head to the side and looked at it curiously. “Use Flamethower!”

She'd spent so many years raising dragons and teaching them how to control their fire that she expected a powerful red-orange stream of searing flame. Her mind's eye saw the flames scorching the rock, searing its strength into its surface until it began to melt from the heat. And when the fire subsided, steam would rise in steady waves, and her dragons would bugle triumphantly at their prowess. She imagined the exhilarating heat, and her grin broadened. Any second now Flareon would unleash a fireball.

A moment passed, and then another. But nothing came. This isn't right. Clair lowered her hand and turned to face Flareon. She found her Pokemon settled down in a nest of grass, her large fluffy tail wrapped around her. She regarded her Trainer with deep, midnight green eyes. “Uh. Flareon, you're supposed to—” she started. It didn't make any sense. They'd spent all that time together; Flareon should be listening to her. Clair frowned, her brows furrowing into a deep V. But she did listen to her: Flareon was attentive to her commands, her eyes never left her face. Did she just not know Flamethrower?

“Right, okay,” Clair began, desperately trying to rethink her game plan. She thought fire-types were supposed to know Flamethrower. Apparently not, but this was going nowhere. They needed to try something different. Raising Flareon would be no different from all her other dragons. ��Let’s, uh, let’s try again...”

#Practice; thread #forestgreenbpd

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jshoulson · 5 years

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Today’s Poem

I Asked the Man in the White Robe Where He Was From --Jay Leeming

I am from wind, from fire, from the star’s red question and the oyster’s lament on his bed of ice, from the cinnamon tree’s argument with the cloud and the sand that fills the cracks between the floor tiles once the storm has passed. Do you want facts, names, dates? I am fifty-two years old and the father of four, I live in Shiraz and make brooms. There, you can go now, take these apples of fact and hurry to your next appointment

in the City of Knowledge, may Allah’s blessing be upon you. I respect answers but know them for the shut doors they are, mules of thought, dead shells telling nothing of the whole sea. But if you were to ask past doorways and corridors to a room of sky-tiles and cinnabar I would say I am from sea-bottom pearl and the rosebush with its roots in the world before, I am from gloves stuffed with fire, from eternity’s marriage to the instant and the fig tree’s ragged hold on the nourishment

of the underground stream. Once I lived as others, you see, with blindness my bread and denial the house in which I wandered sleeping, the verb of my breath conjugated into Monday, then Tuesday, then a week later into Monday again. Each day a rag dyed and wrung clean and then dyed once more. But when the green god of changes came to me with his honey-loud light and his wine he spoke not in words but in dreams that circled like sparrows around a tower of ice, phrases of black rock, scarves of water, a mosaic of turquoise and alabaster that shifted as I breathed. When I awoke I was a handful of wind snarled around the shard of a broken bottle, I knew the sorrow in the heron’s eye and the dancing began of which you have heard so much. So now I swim in the ocean in which other men drown. You ask me what ocean and I look out at white houses and air rinsed

with sunlight, at boxes full of lemons, a motorbike, the delivery boy texting his girlfriend and I say that ocean. May I be given to barbed wire and the ruins of the café shrieking with blood, to the vowels whispered by the AK-47 when it is empty, to the tourniquet tied around the river and the burned wreckage of the Humvee bludgeoned by the light of the noonday sun. May I be abandoned to ice

and gasoline, to jasmine flowers and chicken bones and the white laughter of children, surrendered to the rain and the stammer of a cloud-fathered voice rattling the branches of the sumac tree secure in its nest of silence. In the middle of the bombed marketplace a mustard seed and inside that mustard seed a prayer. All the pages of the heart’s book torn out and given to the wind. You say they are lost. But I tell you that is the only way they could have been saved.

#Today's Poem #Jay Leeming

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houseki-no-suffering · 5 years

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Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Human AU, 1960s AU Characters: Cinnabar/Phosphophyllite, Diamond, Euclase, Bort, Alex, Yellow

A/N: in which we meet the other half of Cinnabar’s not quite huge friend’s list. Ty so much to @lapishead for betareading my commas away and to @rinboz for her help with Bort’s character. Enjoy!

The thought of going home and accidentally stumbling into Phos on the way persuaded Cinnabar to linger on the beach. They hadn’t meant to, but at a certain point their body surrendered to exhaustion and they fell asleep on the sand, crouched against one of the boats that the fishermen left on the shore. It was their voices that woke Cinnabar up, a little before dawn, and Cinnabar would have apologized profusely if their mind wasn’t still absorbed by other thoughts.

Now that the realization had sunk in, Cinnabar felt even more lost. They tried to come up with alternatives as the town grew nearer, a blur of sparse lights and white buildings. The only thing they felt absolutely sure about was that they wanted to shut themselves in their new home until Phos had left again. With nothing to do except overthink and go through old textbooks, they would graduate in no time if this went on long enough.

Cinnabar was worrying their third cup of coffee in their hands when they accepted that their fingers would not stop shaking just because they were safe in the confined space of Bort’s bedroom. And an excess of caffeine hardly had something to do with it. Outside or inside, it made no difference: their mind would not stop working.

They remembered so many mornings lazily spent on Diamond’s bed when Phos was fourteen. Bort would be crouched at the foot of the bed, holding a book, and Dia would braid their hair in complicated plaits, trying out every trick they had gleaned from being around Red Beryl. They would hum and sing as they ran their fingers through Bort’s hair, and Cinnabar would listen quietly, curled up on their own bed.

It was always so peaceful and silent. Cinnabar would keep their eyes closed, pretending to sleep while waiting for Phos to wake up. The ungracious sound of their feet running through the corridor was hard to miss, but Cinnabar would have traded high school one hundred times more just to hear it.

Yellow Diamond had warned them against easy decisions, and Cinnabar could blame no one but themselves for obsessing over someone that had considered Cinnabar temporary. And yet, every foggy morning spent waiting for the train, every hour spent sitting on hard desks, surrounded by people Cinnabar did not know and didn’t want to know, left a dull, cold ache in Cinnabar’s chest. The taste of wasting time that could otherwise been spent in selfish, childish ways.

The light that filtered through the shutters of Bort’s room was suddenly eerily similar to how the sun would caress Cinnabar’s old room at the dormitory, just a moment before Phos walked into the room to snuggle beside them. The wallpaper too was similar, with its peachy, little flowers: the more Cinnabar looked at it, the more alike it became. If they closed their eyes, their mind would make Cinnabar believe that Phos could burst in the room at any moment.

Cinnabar’s fingers clutched the cup tightly, almost spilling its contents. They needed to talk with someone.

They ran their eyes around the room, looking for an excuse not to do it. Their gaze was met by cardboard boxes and clothes, half-read books and scribbled papers. Along with the white ceiling, their newly-moved in possessions had started to judge Cinnabar’s unpacking plans, or lack thereof. It was too much work just for the sake of running away from anxiety.

Cinnabar ran a hand through their hair, debated about washing it when their fingers hit a snag in the middle, discarded even this task as too demanding, stared at the wall for a solid minute and then stood up. They walked to the telephone and placed the handset to their ear to make a call. Their chest was thumping. They truly hoped that Bort would answer because Cinnabar did not know if they could muster enough desperation to call them again later.

The mid-ranged pitch of the dial tone filled Cinnabar’s ears as they waited for the Naval Academy’s secretary to connect the call to their friend. Cinnabar held their breath, their fingers torturing the telephone’s cord. Bort was the kind of person to be home on a Sunday morning, but what did Cinnabar know.

“Yes?” and then Bort’s voice reached Cinnabar from the other side of the country and Shinsha felt guilty for being so annoying and insecure, but they still let out a breath of relief.

“It’s me…”

“Shinsha? Something’s up?”

“No, how’re you doing? How’s school there?”

“It’s okay. Tight schedule.”

Of course it would be; some people dared make plans for the future and then work to make them a reality.

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I’m here to learn.”

“Okay.”

“So, what’s up?”

“What’s up with what?” Cinnabar twisted the cord around their finger once more. Their grip was so tight it almost hurt.

“You calling. Is it Dia? Are they… okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine.”

“Good.”

A couple of seconds was all it would take Bort to inquire about Cinnabar again, so they forced themselves to keep talking.

“I moved in.”

“Oh, good. How did it go?”

“Good, yeah, it’s fine.”

“Clean up every other day, you promised.”

Ugh.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m coming back for my birthday.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Good.”

A few seconds elapsed and Bort’s pragmatism focused its attention back before Cinnabar could pile up the courage to hang up the phone.

“Something’s up,” they pronounced their verdict.

“Nothing’s up.”

“You wouldn’t call if nothing’s up.”

“Well, I just did.”

“I can drag it out of you, I don’t mind.”

Suddenly the thought of speaking with Bort only to have someone agree with them was no longer that appealing. Cinnabar stayed silent for a few seconds, still debating whether to tell their friend or not. Then they pushed the words past their lips.

“Guess who’s back…”

“What?”

“Back. Guess who’s back after five fucking years.”

“Wh-“ a pause, the time for Bort’s voice to betray emotion, “for real?”

“Yeah.”

“What do they want? Did you talk?”

“Hell if I know, and no, we didn’t and it’s great this way.”

“Are they out of their mind? Was Antarc there?”

There was a line of disbelief in the way Bort pronounced Antarcticite’s name. Back then, they had taken a strong liking to Antarc’s interests and it was Antarc who had inspired them to pursue a career in the military. While Bort had still judged biased Phos’ rushed choices, they had never been able to be angry at Antarc for what happened. As much as they were trying to keep their interest in check for Cinnabar’s sake, it still showed.

“Euc says they’re alone. I don’t know, I don’t wanna know.”

The line went silent once more. Cinnabar could hear the gears turning in Bort’s mind as their younger friend thought of something worth saying, settling for the simple efficiency of silence when nothing valuable came up. Bort was the person you turned to when you needed a swift solution, not comfort, but Cinnabar’s list of friends was thin.

“Are you okay?” they finally asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel. I shouldn’t even feel anything, it’s just… Phos-level bullshit all over again, why should I care... I know where this is going, it’s always the same, it’s stupid, and I don’t wanna- but I still do… I still care anyway. Like, it’s affecting me, I’m stupid. Please tell me I shouldn’t care, hit me with a stick or something.”

“Don’t self-deprecate your way out of this. What’s exactly the problem?”

“Phos is my problem!”

“Shinsha!”

Cinnabar pinched the bridge of their nose, feeling older and more bitter than their years. The exhaustion from a night spent outdoors like an emotionally wrecked vagrant was washing over them in waves of anger and disillusion, leaving Cinnabar more drained each time it pulled back.

“It’s my fault,” they murmured, “I’m afraid. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I still… I think about it cause I’m stupid and now they’re back, like… it’s them again. They’re right here. What do you think they want? Do they wanna talk? Why now? How dare they… and it’s my fault because I’m still thinking about it, I just… I wish they’d go away. I wish they’d disappear, that I’d disappear, I don’t wanna see where this is going.”

“You don’t owe them anything, Shinsha. Ignore them. They didn’t even apologize. I don’t want you to be caught up in that again. Just leave them be.”

“Isn’t that childish?”

“Phos is childish. They up and leave and now they’re back. They’re unreliable.”

“But what if there’s a reason, why do you think they came back?”

“Because they’re bored. Probably not even Antarc could stand it. They played their little games, messed something up so now they come back like a kicked puppy. And they’re still arrogant about it.”

“Yeah…” this too was familiar. Bort’s rage, the way they described Phos, Phos’ mistakes. The remnants of some old instinct were telling Cinnabar they should defend Phos and Cinnabar almost did because Bort was being harsh, fueling Cinnabar’s desire for anger to the point of spilling it- and Cinnabar was unprepared to deal with the excess of emotion. It left a bitter taste in their mouth.

“They leave, they disappear, they come back. Don’t let this get to your head, you did nothing wrong.”

“Okay.”

“And I… I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Cinnabar nodded, as if Bort could see them from the other side of the phone and of the country. They sounded like a numb, obedient puppy and it was so pathetic that they were tempted to hang the phone again and spare Bort the spectacle.

“Alright. I’ll send you my timetable, pass it around. Just don’t call me when I’m busy. Especially Euc. I can’t spend all my time at the phone.”

“Don’t worry.”

“I’m coming back for my birthday, I have a leave. I can show you the uniform…”

“Cool, I’d love that.”

The line went silent for a moment, leaving Bort the time to recover from the embarrassment of opening up.

“Ask Dia to help you clean up, they’re better than you at least.”

“Thanks.”

“Talk to you soon.”

“See ya,” and, with a click, Bort hung up and the line went silent again. It took Cinnabar a moment to realize that they had been left with the burden of dropping the news that Bort would be visiting to Dia.

They let themselves fall on the bed with a loud groan, feeling the first pangs of a headache crawling their way through Cinnabar’s consciousness. They could always hope that one worry would drive away the other.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #cinnaphos #cinnabar #phosphophyllite #bort #fic tag #1960s au

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