#Ancient bullshit

[msclaritea]

Benedict Cumberbatch, Olivia Colman to Lead 'War of the Roses' Remake

"The Roses’ is a wildly funny, bigger than life, and yet deeply human story,” said Searchlight president Matthew Greenfield announcing the project. “With Jay at the helm, and Benedict and Olivia and Tony, we have a dream team bringing it to life.”

So Matthew Greenfield at Searchlight is dirty...BEYOND dirty. No comment on Olivia Colman as of yet, but we all know now that actors and actresses usually have NO SAY I'm the projects they're currently put in. This film should not be made. It's another horrible, cruel joke to play on the fans of Benedict Cumberbatch and the people pushing it are on the same level as that jackal Jay Z and the NFL This is pure, sick, Freemason, ancient bullshit. Also, how is it this project is STILL in development, when it's BEEN in development since 2017?

And Benedict, if you go along with this project, it will be revealed to the public that you are going along with your own public humiliation, in order to enrich human traffickers.

Was Clarence really not enough for you?

Or Eric?

How about pissing on yourself in Louis Wain?

AND HEY, DISNEY...BIG FUCKING MISTAKE!

[thebeefsteaktomato]

After 8 months (and a lot of procrastination) I finally finished this billy animation!!

[elucubrare]

the other thing about the common narrative about the Library of Alexandria is that people talk about the "lost knowledge" and how we'd be "exploring the stars" or curing all disease if it hadn't burned down & there's something to be said, i suppose, for having more of a foundation, but if anything was lost it's literary and historical sources (even if, had they survived the rot in the library, they'd made it all the way down to us, which is not a given) - more of the three famous Athenian playwrights! complete works by historians we only currently have fragments of! more mediocre popular novels!

but none of that stuff, which i would give an eye-tooth to have, is what people talk about, because the mere fact that books of ancient science were lost allows them to become Lost Ancient Knowlege that is somehow more advanced than the works directly before them or after them, through the mystical transmutation of Potential.

[ganondoodle]

me: finally im able to cope with how much i hate totk and can fuel that energy into other things :)

nintendy: the shiekah tech just dissappeared and no one knows why or cares enough to investigate it lol. lmao. its gone bc the calamity is gone or something even tho it literally isnt bc ganondorf is right there haha lol, stop asking, why do you care. just forget it existed and look at that sexy goatman and glue instead!! glue! isnt that wild?? also its totally a direct, 100% same universe and exact same characters, despite them act totally out of character, sequel to botw-

[spacedace]

Here be the first little bit of the new DP x DC AU I warned about earlier where Tim, due to his constant repeated attempts at cloning Bart & Kon, accidentally summons slightly eldritch Elle who is very interested in what he’s up to.

As always feel free to run with this as a prompt if yall find anything here interesting :D

*

Tim didn’t mean to summon her.

He’d been in the lab, staring at the data on the latest failed attempts at cloning Kon and Bart and feeling like he was cracking in two. Eyes burning, chest tight, world spinning out into shifting impossible shadows around him as his mind and body struggled to push him forward into another day without sleep. The hush of water in the tanks, his unsteady steps on the cement floor, the chill seeping into his bones.

He stumbled and swayed through the maze of the lab, numbers dripping like blood down the screen as he tried to stare at the figures. He needed to try again, needed to bring them back, in whatever capacity he could. This time would work. This time he’d get it right.

When he saw her, feet clumsy as he rounded a corner, he thought she was just another hallucination.

How could she be anything else?

Skin like a polished mirror, hair like the white-hot flash of lightning, eyes as green as the depths of the Lazarus Pits. She floated before a tank, spectral and strange with a long wisping tail that drifted off into nothingness in place of legs, body shifting and changing before his eyes in ways that bodies should not be able to. Outside of the eyes the face was…not there. An impression of the shapes that you’d expect to see in a human face, like the Question’s. Sometimes though the features defined, sharpened. Mirror bright skin crackling as faces took shape in the glass.

In the low light of the lab, he almost imaged one of those faces was Kon’s. Dimples and freckles and high cheek bones and the slant of a silhouette that haunted Tim’s dreams at night. A flicker of her lightining hair and it was gone. Smoothed back into soft blankness once more.

He watched from the of the aisle as she lifted too-long mirror shard fingers and rest them gently on the glass as she seemed to peer in at the lifeless body inside.

Attempt 76.

One of his tries with Bart. The organs hadn’t grown right during the age-up process. Tim had cried for that one as he had for all the others. As he had for Bart and Kon when they had died. As he still did as the fact that it was more maddened grief than hope that kept him pushing forward anyway.

He closed his eyes to the hallucination at the end of the aisle. Breathed deep and steady. It might be gone when he opened his eyes again. It might not be. It might be something - someone - else when he dares look next. He’d been through this time and time again over the days and weeks he’d been throwing himself at this agonizing wall. The only difference this time was the intricate strangeness, the total lack of recognition he had for the figure, baring the moment he almost saw Kon in its face.

Coffee. Maybe some harder stimulants, if he had any left. New data to review, new attempts to be made. He didn’t have time for the effects of sleep deprivation.

Tim opened his eyes.

He jerked back as he came face to face with himself, warped and strange and green in the reflective face of the being where it now hovered so close that if it breathed he would feel it upon his face.

She tilted her head at him, curious. Hands rose to cup his face, rest on his shoulders, wrap around his arms, cradle his hands. More hands than he’d seen before. More hands than he was able to truly comprehend, stomach souring as his eyes stung and strained in the attempt to look at the impossible warping of her body. Despite the glint of shattered glass that made up her fractured palms and splintered silver fingers, her hands were soft and warm where they curled around him. Almost human in the way they held him in place, the hold pleasantly firm.

He’d never had a doting elder aunt to pinch his cheeks and demand to get a look at him, but he imagined this might be what that felt like. The way the being shifted her head from side to side, his reflection warping in the curved reflection of the planes of her featureless face, added to the strange idea. His hallucinations didn’t normally touch him, though. And never so…kindly.

Tim felt his blood go cold as he realized it might not be a figment of his fracturing mind floating before him.

Swallowing nervously, he tried to shift backwards, to slip out of the many grasping hands before the softness turned sharp and began to cut into him. He felt something cool against the back of his legs, hair standing on end as static electricity built up on his skin where he brushed the trailing tail he hadn’t noticed her curl around him. The entity leaned in close, the depthless green of her glowing eyes consuming Tim’s entire field of vision, and he was flooded by the sudden, horrible awareness of being Known.

The world fell away from him, his stomach lurching with the sick-sweet feel of free fall that used to exhilarate him when he’d first become Robin and had flown from rooftops dangling by his grapple and his belief in the magic being Robin instilled in him. The lab, the equipment, the piles of data and desperate scribbles, the failed clones, Tim himself. All swept away in the flood of green and the roar of lightning and the cool press of glass.

He came to would could have been minutes or centuries later. Gasping and sick on the cold cement floor, shivering as he dry heaved. His mouth full of salt and copper and the burning crackle of ozone at the back of his throat.

For a moment, disoriented and dizzy, he thought it had all been a hallucination after all. Or some fractious dream visited upon him by his torn and tattered mind after he’d finally collapsed from exhaustion on the lab floor. That the entity truly had been just in his mind, a consequence of his refusal to rest until his work was done.

Then he felt the glass-cool fingers running through his hair, the warm hand rubbing at his back, heard the low murmurs of reassurance in a voice that was almost, almost human.

He spasmed as he tried to jerk away, hissing with the sharp sting of pins and needles dancing over every nerve. His limbs were heavy and clumsy, and he was crashing back to the cold floor under his own weight before he could even try and drag himself away. His breathing came in short, aching gasps as he tried to twist away, only managing to roll to his back to see the entity where it sat calmly looking down at him.

She had a face now. A solid, steady one that fit her in a way that made him think it must be her real one, though what that meant exactly he didn’t know. The glowing eyes had dimmed and shifted, more human looking with black pupils and white sclera. Button nose marked with silver-tarnish freckles that spread over her cheeks too. A mouth, with lips curled into an apologetic smile. Her hair, still shifting as if caught in a wind that wasn’t there, was still the bright white it’d been before, but the lighting of the locks had settled into faint crackles between the curls. Whatever she was, whatever she’d done to him, he could look at her without feeling like his mind might just crack in two.

“Wha-“ His voice cracked, painful and hoarse like he’d been screaming. Maybe he had been. Swallowing around the burn in his throat, he choked out a hissed, “What are you?”

Her head tilted in that curious slant again, more human features giving her a bright, youthful look as she peered down at him questioningly. “You summoned me, Little Gaffer, shouldn’t you know?”

*

Gaffer is a term used for a glass crafter, as well as light technicians for stage/movie productions. I’m using it as the term for the person who creates a Clone, with the clone themselves being a Mirrorborn, and the person they are cloned from being called the clone’s Reflected. Gaffer is probably a bit of a stretch for this, technically I think someone who makes mirrors would be called a Glazier (Glaziers are glassmakers) but I wasn’t vibing that as much. Besides I like the vibe of glass + light = mirror in a way.

Anyway, opening volley of a new AU where Tim ends up becoming like a warlock to Elle to get his loved ones back, while Elle is just having the time of her sorta eldritch little life watching this absolute mess of a human wreck shit and cause so much chaos even without the powers she starts giving him.

(Elle in this is both the God Queen of Clones/Mirrorborn as well as the Ancient of the Speedforce (which I’ve decided is called the Ever Onward in the Infinite Realms, because I literally can’t be stopped from trying to make normal DC things sound mystical because spooky Infinite Realms aesthetics haha)

Have a tiny bit more written for this, but don’t know how much I’ll end up writing for it with all the other projects I have currently lol, so if anyone is interested feel free to run with it as you so desire haha

[backpackingspace]

I am once again thinking about how odysseus who witnessed the horrors that the captured women went through (one of his main duties in the iliad was taking the women back home and making sure they were as comfortable as possible and safe because he was the only one trusted not to violate them further due to his devotion to penelope. And in the odyssey part of the reason circe sent him to the underworld was so that he'd have to listen to all these women's stories (before he could talk to the prophet) ). Who was one of the few that saw women as people and respected their space and opinions. And was then put in those exact same situations. I don't have the motivation right now to do a full literary analysis of this (I'll site the sources too) but oh man one day I'm going to write a full essay on this.

[ellilyre]

Some time ago I was playing Hades II and Odysseus said something that just didn't leave my mind.

I was half paying attention, so I may have misunderstood it, but I remember Mel asking why he is not with his family, and him saying something about the sirens' song.

And that led me to imagine

Odysseus came back to the home he has longed for for so long and... And it's not that great. Penelope is not as beautiful, the meals aren't as delicious, the flowers aren't as colourful as the sirens promised him.

He knows it was all lies. He knows the world he was shown isn't real and will never be. But-

But when Penelope and he fight over mundane things, or when Telemachus argues his choices (trivial things that happen in every family) he can't help but remember what he could've have (even for just a split second before dying.)

His tragedy is over, he is home. He knows this is the best he could ever have, the happiest he could ever be, and yet he is haunted by the illusions he was promised.

He will never be satisfied with what he can have. Nothing will ever be as beautiful as what the sirens offered him. He will never be free from what he saw.

[chthonic-sorcery]

The Ars Goetia didn't originate from "King Solomon" as it claims.

If it did, it wouldn't be heavily influenced by fucking Greek magic, since Solomon supposedly lived thousands of years before that period.

Medieval monks, who really wrote the Ars Goetia, had a very well documented habit of assigning parentage of magical texts to apocryphal figures like Solomon to make them seem cooler or more powerful. Particularly to christian adjacent figures, since otherwise these books would be considered hersey.

Even the word Goetia itself derives from the Greek Goêteia, meaning sorcery, specifically sorcery utilizing chthonic powers, or the Underworld: Gods, Daemons, and the Dead.

Goêteia comes from the proto Indo-European word goos, meaning to mourn, cry, or to wail; it comes from ancient funeral laments and mourning practices.

Also, Solomon likely never existed, hate to burst your bubble, but there has been zero archeological evidence found to support his, or his "father" king David's existence. Unlike other real kings of roughly the same periods, like King Nebuchadnezzar II.

Even the fact that the magic circles within the Ars Goetia utilize the same coiled serpents and five-pointed stars that Greek goêteia uses, stemming from EGYPT and Egyptian practice, not some psudeo-biblical figure like Solomon.

But wait, there's more

Even the use of demons isn't Solomonic, nor is it Jewish or christian.

It's also fucking Greek.

The word demon itself derives from the Greek daemon, meaning earthly divinity (rather than heavenly/ouranic) or a messenger of the Gods.

It was taken and absorbed into early christian theology like many other concepts such as Tartarus due to early christianity rising in the same region.

Particularly the use of daemons in magic through evocation, or even invocation (calling them within yourself to become possessed, a hallmark of Daemonism and the Engastraitai) through ritual incantations of voces magicae and nomina barbara.

All of it is fucking Greek, no Solomon to be found.

I'll add a step further: even the use of Jewish aspects of magic within the Ars Goetia stems from Greek goêteia, as Greek goêteia was a syncretism of Greek, Jewish, Egyptian, and Mesopotamian magical and spiritual practices.

Fuck, just take a look at the Greek Magical Papyri sonetime if you don't believe it.

Hell, even take a look at the Coptic Magical Papyri, which was a syncretism of early christianity and what we would call "ancient Egyptian" religion and Magical practices:

See the similarities?

Solomon my ass.

☆ ☆ ☆

Learn more here

[zeherili-ankhein]

Just heard my chhoto mashi say some dumb people told her ancient Indians used to see dancing and singing as bad and ashleel and it was the Mughals that made it good and something praise able 💀💀💀

GURL WHAT ARE YOU ON-

[vaguely-concerned]

It's really interesting that Wynne actually has quite a measured, bordering on downright sympathetic response to hearing what Jowan did in the prologue -- if the mage Warden says "I still can't believe Jowan was that stupid", her answer is something like a thoughtful "Stupid, or desperate, or merely curious?". She seems to think of Jowan as a kid who got in over his head, rather than any less charitable interpretation. I do believe she genuinely is as against blood magic as she publicly expresses and as the Circle party line demands, but as a private person she clearly has a more nuanced and potentially kinder understanding of the reasons why someone might resort to it, at the very least.

(related: when she says that part about Irving telling her what happened, there's no dialogue option in the first stage of the conversation (except choosing the 'leaving the conversation' one) that doesn't net you +2 approval! no matter how the warden feels about it, she is ready to recieve it. I think that says something sweet about how Wynne conceptualizes younger mages and the honest real affection she has for them. if you didn't snitch on jowan and say you stand by that decision, though? +3 approval, apparently! what Wynne says and what Wynne thinks is not always the same thing indeed, her idea of where personal loyalty and integrity stands vis-a-vis a mage's responsibility to the circle may be more flexible than she'd have people believe, you'll be surprised to learn lol)

I have always liked wynne and found her interesting, in all her hypocrisies and her earnest care, but with slightly older eyes she's extra fascinating to me in the same ways that Iron Bull is -- seeing someone whose mind has had hollows carved out in it by the need for double-think and compartmentalization imposed by the oppressive systems and ideologies they live under, and the quiet fight of the self to still preserve vital parts of itself that the system deems unacceptable in the hidden backstage areas of the soul, as it were. (and for both of them part of that self is love and protectiveness of specific other people, beyond what their 'role' dictates is acceptable for them.) I think Wynne has managed to sneak more of her internal self through the meatgrinder relatively intact than Bull overall, but it's the same logic underlying it, for me, and it makes me feel such intense affection and compassion for them both to see how hard they try

[northernsunsets]

Bing-ge straight hair, Bing-mei wavy hair but it's just because Bing-ge uses magic demon hair relaxer or something

[everyones-least-favorite-bard]

【…Oh, you sad, pitiful child.】

[spotsupstuff]

as i'm workin on my Ancient stuff- i've got to say that it is really interesting and neat (read: nasty) that there's a good chance most of the Ancient population probably didn't actually wear masks. but We think they did cuz the only really solid evidence of what they looked like at all all comes from places of the higher social circles. and those strived for religious... superiority, i guess. brownie points, not actual dedication to the religion for the sake of its teachings but either because it made them look good, put them higher in the social hierarchy or whatever manipulation have you (or the flawed look upon the religion aka "we gotta get out of this cycle no matter what")

all we are left with are the bastards. the simple people and their cultures that were left to weather the Iterators' rains were simply washed away. nobody cared for their way of life- as long as it served the higher circles well and they stayed submissive (enough so that at the end everyone would take a dip in the void), nobody had to give a singular shit

just how much do we not know about the Ancients' *everything* because of this disregard? how much do we think we are right about, when such is true only for the small but privileged piece of the species?

[zykamiliah]

corporal punishment=/=abuse

corporal punishment=/=deliberately allowing a child to use a manual that would kill him in the long run

corporal punishment=/=allowing and enabling bullying in your own peak

corporal punishment=/=putting a child to sleep in a woodshed

corporal punishment=/=sending a child to fight against a demon elder

corporal punishment=/=pushing a child into literal hell

hope that helps ♥

[thelastspeecher]

watching the Ancient Aliens episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved and pausing every two minutes to rant once they get to the Pyramids of Giza part bc I was one of those Egyptology kids and I will NOT stand for this fucking SLANDER

[spacedem0n]

Odysseus: You can't tell me what to do, you're not my mom

Athena: Well, since your mom is dead, yes, I am

Odysseus: Wait, my mOM IS DEAD!!

Athena: SHIT-