#modern mythology

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Ch. 5, Page 36.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>He didn’t say anything because of

Ch. 5, Page 36.
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He didn’t say anything because of the stars. Couldn’t do it. Not today.
It’s absolutely not that the memory of the event went right to Xibalba.

(cit.)


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Ch. 5, Page 35.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>“I’m sorry, prof, I co

Ch. 5, Page 35.
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“I’m sorry, prof, I couldn’t do my homework because I had to save the world. Furthermore, a war god who was passing by destroyed all my notes and books, so it really would have been impossible, you see…”


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Ch. 5, Page 32.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>It was told that she has some ange

Ch. 5, Page 32.
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It was told that she has some anger management issues…
(We also would like to state that she is strictly forbidden to access the liquour cabinet. “I don’t care how many lifes you lived and how many relatives you dismembered, little miss, you’re now 12 and you’re now grounded.” cit.)

Notes:
The background image is inspired by a Lucan krater from around 400 b.C., now at the Cleveland Museum of Art. The dressMedea is wearing, tho, is the reconstruction of a traditional garment worn in the Colchis/Caucasian area in ancient times, in the Archaeological Museum of the Republic of Alania, in Vladikavkaz.

Medea was the princess of Colchis -the coastal area of the modern Georgia-, daughter of king Aeetes who was the son of Helios, and thus brother of Circe and of the Minoan Queen Pasifae.
She helped Jason (read as: she did all the work and Jason took credit) in conquering the golden fleece her family had in the garden, guarded by a dragon. She also agreed to help the Argonauts flee from Colchis, on the promise Jason would have married her. Because true love can do everything, included forgive the fact that the blushing bride dismembered her own brother to distract her father and escape.
But nobody’s perfect, and once back to Greece and Jason crowned king, the pair lived happily ever after… Or at least, for few years. Then, Jason remembered he was a douchebag:  he decided to take another wife, younger, Greeker and without a bodycount of her own, informing Medea of the happy news in a flawless way. With an eviction note for her and their two sons.
Medea chose to be elegant about it: she killed the two kids, murdered the second wife while she was at it, and left Corinth on her chariot trained by dragons, in an unmistakable “Fuck you, sir”.
After that, tho, she tried to redeem herself: she fled to Athens, married again with king Aegeus and she really put some effort to free Greece from Theseus. She tried to poison him, but was discovered and exiled all over again. She took a definitive residence in what is now Turkey, in the region that from her took the name Media, and Theseus was now free to go rampant and become the scarcely encomiable hero we all know.


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Ch. 5, Page 43.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>Did you really think we already go

Ch. 5, Page 43.
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Did you really think we already got tired of destroying houses? uwu

(a moment of sileence for whomever will have to clean all that ichor from the walls and the furniture and the pc.)


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Ch. 5, Page 41.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>Such unjustified bad faith!Note:At

Ch. 5, Page 41.
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Such unjustified bad faith!

Note:
Ataraxia: According to the philosopher Epicurus -no sex drugs and rock'n'roll, that was a Christian misconception-, it is the ideal mental state in which any man can truely attain happiness. It is that place of complete mental calmness, untroubled by worries or any emotional turmoil. (cit. Epicurus, Letter to Menecaeus or Letter on Happiness)


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Ch. 5, Page 39.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>Why, did you really think she was

Ch. 5, Page 39.
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Why, did you really think she was joking about the dragon teeth? No no, she has a full satchel of them in her desk drawer, just beside her Sailor Moon secret diary.


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Ch. 5, Page 37.<< Previous || Start Reading || Next >>Apollo’s clearly not paid quite en

Ch. 5, Page 37.
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Apollo’s clearly not paid quite enough to cope with all this DRAMAH, of which he’s absolutely out of, it’s just Theban blood making Dionysos all that extra, the Olympic counterpart has nothing to do with it.


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Oops, looks like someone had her dragons eat today’s page!<< Previous || Start Reading || Next

Oops, looks like someone had her dragons eat today’s page!

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Aaaaaaaaaaaand for this chapter too the publication stops here!
Thank you to everyone who stayed with us in this most relaxing and quiet chapter with the unofficial title of “Arja and Marty, Dream Home Demolitions” (cit.), we really enjoyed reading and replying to all your comments! Speaking of which, if you have any theory, question, so on and so forth… COME HITHER LADIES, GENTLEMEN AND WHOMEVER FEELS IN BETWEEN, we can’t wait to hear your opinions, know where do you think we’re going from here!
Spoiler: next chapter will be full of deities.

And what about the end of the chapter? Worry not: unfortunately we have no good news to spare for what concerns online shops… BUT, we did find a solution, and we’re working on that right now. You’ll know everything in the next few weeks, hopefully. We won’t leave you alone. :)
The tightest hug, see you soon with wips, and we recommend everyone to stay away from hubris!

In the meanwhile, if you want to read again or get on track with some things you may have missed, you can check…

<<Chapter 1||Chapter 2||Chapter 3||Chapter 4 ||Chapter 5 >>


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Character I did for my Character Design class. It’s a pretty fun and chill class, something I need r

Character I did for my Character Design class. It’s a pretty fun and chill class, something I need right now while I flounder through Thesis…


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Look, some “creepypasta monsters” really don’t deserve the mockery they have gotten in later years as generic and juvenile, especially things like Slender Man, Momo and Siren Head whose origins are all infinitely interesting rabbit holes just based on subtle horror art from simple, everday artists who rarely are even mentioned as the original creators of these massive media phenomenon adaptations. The looming eerieness and vagueness of the original creators’ work that beckons and forces people to create elaborate backstories as a means to comfortably process and understand their own feelings of dread when seeing it, it’s genious and monumental, and reducing it to something that glue eaters snort-laugh at Youtubers and peers getting low-effort-jumpscared by is such a shame.

anyways, I’ll take the chicken quesadilla and a Sprite, please

dycefic:

writing-prompt-s:

You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.

The stone was immovable, in the past. Indestructible. A spire of granite no mortal hand could even alter.

But mortal hands build clever tools, and these last few hundred years I have lived in dread that they will break this, my sacred stone, the last link that preserves me, a faint shadow of a forgotten god. While my sacred stone stands, I do not, quite, fade away.

I am in a park, now, clipped and tamed, my forests long gone. But they landscape around me and my stone, admiring its beauty, so I do not complain. While they take pleasure in the stone, I am safe.

There is a playground a few lengths away, and the laughter and happy shrieking rouse me a little from my sleep. I watched over children, once. It’s nice to hear them again.

But I don’t truly awaken until the Offering is made.

Little hands touch my stone, with curiosity and a sort of reverence that only the very young feel now. For a child young enough the world is still a mystery, and even an ancient granite stone provokes wonder. So I stir, when she touches the stone, becoming hazily aware.

And then, solemnly, the child places a tiny colourful object in the roughly shaped alcove in the stone’s side, the place where offerings were laid two thousand years ago and more, and I awaken. Many people have put things in that alcove, of course… to take pictures, usually, these days, or putting a lost object where it will be seen. Merely to place an object in the alcove isn’t enough. A true offering is given as a gift, with intent.

As this is.

Keep reading

intermundia:

Someone in my offline life asked why I bother writing Star Wars fanfic, listing off Disney’s various and assorted sins, all of which of course I agree are awful! BUT. I think Star Wars as a concept doesn’t actually belong to the company that bought the legal right to wring as much capital out of the IP as possible. Star Wars is actually much larger than that.

Star Wars is a massive cultural project, almost half a century old, comprising all forms media, all forms of both official and folk art. It’s a densely woven tapestry of stories, the fruits of the labor and inspiration of thousands and thousands of people. It’s honestly the mythology of many of our childhoods, and it belong to us in a way that capitalism can’t touch.

It’s truly a global phenomenon too! Writing stories and sharing my theories about Star Wars has brought me into being a member a vast community of people, like I’ve had people ask to translate my stories into Russian, Italian, Chinese. I’ve had comments in my story written in so many languages. I have made friends across the globe, all from sitting at my isolated farm in rural USA.

That’s the reason that I write Star Wars, beyond enjoying the Force, the Jedi, the infinitely expandable galaxy, etc. like there’s room for everybody to tell stories. It’s a beautiful, special thing that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I personally LIKE joining in and adding my voice to an ongoing conversation among people who are excited about the heroes and stories that defined my childhood.

The entire idea of mythology only being available for a corporation, and not for the fans, is absurd to me. If we were in ancient Greece, and you said that you and your friends like to sit around and tell each other stories about Homeric characters, nobody would find it strange! Homer and the Homeric heroes were the pervasive stories that everybody vaguely knew and everyone had the context to easily enjoy a retelling.

I’m a prequels kid, and for me and many people in my generation, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the fall of the galactic republic are formative stories seen at the ages when stories really matter. The generation before might have had Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo—these figures are so archteypal, they belong to all of our collective imagination. Disney has nothing to do with that.

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