#its god protection that drains over time and must be replenished

[crow-caller]

Was recently reminded that The Command Ment takes place in 2025. GUYS WE'RE GONNA FIND GOD'S ROTTING CORPSE AND VACINNATE OURSELVES WITH IT THIS YEAR!!

(It's a 2018 christian book about christianity becoming outlawed in the United States after, yes, evil scientists discover a vaccine that blocks christianity. The theological implications are off the walls wild) (text version of the review video here)

[missserpentia-fae]

Take Care of Them

Warnings: Hmm..? If you’re touchy on religion, I’d advise you to not continue reading. (I wrote this for fun)

If any of the characters are OC, tell me so I can try and adjust it.

Takes place after Lesson 18 but before Lesson 19

Pairings: Obey me boys x MC/Reader

Summary: God talking to MC in a dream or such about the brothers

Part 1-8

Chapter 9

MC was seated on top of Luke’s bed with their back against the headboard, sitting with their knees pulled up against their chest as they stared at Luke and Simeon who were sitting across the human at the foot of the bed. “So? Can you help me?” They asked, tilting their head to the side.

The two angels looked away from the human to glance at each other. Luke turned away from Simeon first, a smile already on his face as he nodded, “Of course I’ll help! It’s an honor to be blessed with the covenants of the seven virtues. If I can help you in any way, I will.”

MC looked away from the blond angel to stare at the elder angel who had a tender smile on his face, “I will help you as well. I know how much having such a burden will be hard to carry and I know you can’t tell the brothers which is hard for you as well. So if Luke and I can be of some help and comfort to you, then we will help you as much as possible.”

Simeon clapped his hands together, smile still on his face. “Shall we get started?”

“Eh? Right now?” MC was surprised and the older angel nodded. “It’s best to start now than later. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose so…” the human hummed almost like they were thinking about it before agreeing. They got off the bed, standing by the edge of the bed as they turned to face the two angels. “So, what should I do?”

“First, it’s best if you call on Uriel’s power. He is the youngest virtue so calling on his powers should be easier than calling on Raphael’s. He told you all about it, hasn’t it?” Luke asked as the human nodded.

They looked down at the ring on their pinky finger which was pulsing with power and inhaled sharply. “To call on their power, you have to feel your energy flowing in your body.” Simeon spoke softly and the human allowed their eyelids to fall shut, just listening to Simeon’s soothing voice guide them. “I’m sure Uriel and Raphael explained to you that to be able to use their power, you will have to use your energy, or if you were a human with magic, you would need to use your magic. But since you aren’t, we will focus on using your energy to call their powers.”

They imagined the energy flowing in them, observing that the energy that was flowing in their body was a pure white color and seemed cold as it flowed gently. Out of nowhere, two different colored energies appeared in their mind’s eyes looking like a flame, the first flame that appeared being a light green color and the second being a turquoise blue color. The human realized that the two flames must be the power source of the angels’ they made covenants with.

They reached out for the light green energy swirl and flinched back when it lashed out at them, a burning sensation replacing the cold feeling coursing in their body. Their eyes flew open, panting at the sudden drop in their energy levels and feeling very faint. “MC!”

Simeon was immediately at the human’s side, steadying them against him. MC had sweat dripping down their temple, gasping out, “Wh—I didn’t even get to use Uriel’s power. I just reached out for it so why am I so tired already?”

“Really?” Luke’s perplexed voice drew the human’s attention. The blond angel seemed to have noticed the confusion in their eyes before explaining further, “Your arms had faint glowing light green Enochian markings wrapped all the way up your arms to down to your fingertips. It was a slight glow, almost unnoticable but it was still there.”

“Is that so?” They looked up to Simeon who nodded and the human looked thoughtful. Simeon led them back to the bed, seating them on the edge near Luke and murmured, “I think I wasn’t clear enough with my instructions. Can you tell me what you saw and what you were feeling?”

The human exchange student sighed, leaning against the dark skinned angel heavily as they felt the aftermath of the sudden drain. “I listening to what you said. I saw my energy flowing which was white and was cold and then suddenly there were two different colored energy swirls that looked like flames, light green and turquoise blue. You told me to call on Uriel’s power so I reached out for the light green energy. It lashed out on me and I suddenly felt very hot, that’s when I opened my eyes.”

Simeon nodded before explaining, “So what you did was good however you shouldn’t just reach out or it would lash out and burn you. You have to coax it slowly to you so that its power can merge with your own, only then will you get the hang of it.”

The human nodded and heaved out an exhausted breath, “I feel so tired.”

“I think that’s enough for today. We can try again next time.” The older angel spoke and Luke piped up. “Oh! I can make some baked goods to replenish your energy levels.”

They thanked the shorter angel as he scurried off the bed and to the kitchen in Purgatory Hall. MC groaned out, pain laced in the sound they released and was startled by another voice that didn’t belong to either of the angels. “Well, this is a surprise. What are you doing away from the House of Lamentation? And without one of the brothers with you?”

They turned towards the door to see Solomon leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face. “I wanted to get away from them for a bit and I knew they wouldn’t allow me anywhere without anyone they knew so I came here.” MC chuckled weakly before sitting up, thanking Simeon who brushed the gratitude aside.

“Oh yea. Since I’m already here, why don’t I try and cash in that thing I asked of you a few days ago?”

Solomon looked surprised before he shrugged, agreeing. He walked into the room, taking a seat in front of MC on the floor. He held his hand out and the other human looked at him in confusion but placed their own hand in his. The sorcerer shut his eyes and MC could only stare in amazement when blue sparkles appeared where their hands were connected.

They stayed in that position for a bit before the sparkles disappeared, blinking out of existence and Solomon opened his eyes. MC noticed a weird color shift in the sorcerer’s eyes before it went back to his normal dual color. Solomon tilted his head to stare up at them and said, “I can vaguely feel that you have magic but it’s locked up pretty tightly that I can’t use my own magic to coax it open. We can try opening it the natural way with meditation. If that doesn’t work after a week or two, we’ll have to switch to using magical means to open your core.”

“And if that still doesn’t work?” They asked and Solomon’s lips turned downward before he shook his head. “Let’s hope that it doesn’t get to that.”

Solomon stood up and instructed as Luke bustled in the room, carrying a box which smelled heavenly. “For this whole week and maybe the next, before you go to sleep, I want you to meditate to try and unlock your magic container.”

MC nodded as they chowed down on the sweets that Luke brought in. They thanked the angel who flushed happily. The four continued to relax in each other’s presence making small talk when Solomon spoke out of nowhere, lost in thought, “This is the first time the exchange students hung out without one of the demon brothers, Diavolo or Barbatos being around. Maybe we should do this more often. It’s pleasant.”

The other human hummed in agreement, their mouth full of the brownie that they were holding up to their mouth. Simeon chuckled as he glanced over at MC before turning and replying to Solomon, “Well, the brothers seem particularly protective of MC over here so we never do get to be around one another, just the four of us.”

“Seriously, don’t you get tired of being around them all the time, MC?” Luke whined and MC took his words into consideration before answering, “It does get tiring on some occasions but I don’t really mind. I know they’re just doing their duty as student council members and to Lord Diavolo. But I really wouldn’t change my arrangement with them.”

Luke just pouted and Simeon consoled the other angel, “Luke, sometimes things can be complicated for adults.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a child, Simeon.” Simeon only chuckled as he patted Luke’s head which only seemed to fuel the younger angel’s irritation more. MC blinked when they felt their pocket vibrate and they searched for the source. They pulled out their DDD, unlocking it and going to the messaging app.

‘You better be heading back to the House. Mammon is being even more of a nuisance to deal with while you’re gone.’ – Lucifer.

MC let out a small snort before they stood up, patting down their uniform. “I really should get going. It seems like Mammon is driving his brothers crazy with my whereabouts.”

“Ah! Take the rest of these with you. You still need to replenish your energy levels.” Luke picked up the box with the still numerous treats and handed it to them. MC looked surprised before smiling, thanking the angel by placing a peck against his chubby cheek which caused the angel to flush in embarrassment.

“Let me walk you to the door, your Highness.” Solomon stood up, grandiosely holding a hand out for the non-magic human to take who chortled at the grand gesture but took his hand nonetheless.

Luke and Simeon said their goodbyes and the two human exchange students headed to the entrance of Purgatory Hall, arm in arm as they made small talk. As they got closer to the door, Solomon stated out of the blue as he stared at the other human, “I really meant what I said. We should do this more often, us exchange students got to stick together. It doesn’t even have to be all four of us. We humans can hang out.”

“I’ll try as much as I can.” MC chuckled and Solomon flashed them a smile as they walked off in the direction of the House of Lamentation.

Part 10

[monster-huntologist]

Monster Ecologies: Namielle

Entry 38 - Namielle

Name: Namielle

Aliases: Neromyēru, Abyssal Dragon, The Sea God

Classification: Unclassified, Elder Dragon

Biology: Discovered only in the past few months, Namielle are extremely unusual Elder Dragons. They possess traits of numerous species, such as having an overall reptilian body structure but their skin being more like that of an amphibian, or its wings being reminiscent of manta ray fins while ending in tentacles akin to those of a cephalopod. Due to this extremely puzzling biology, Namielle may very well be in a Phylum all to itself. Its wings are extremely large, colored black on top and blue on the underside, with a multicolor bioluminescence that pulses almost constantly. They are also capable of producing electricity due to specialised organs throughout their body, releasing it from both its legs and wings when angered enough. Its head is primarily red with multiple long whiskers extending from the lower jaw while the rest of its body is colored with multiple shades of blue alongside the same bioluminescence from its wings. When its body becomes dried out, it instead has a milky-tan coloration. Like many other Elder Dragons, Namielle possesses unparalleled control over an element and are notable for their mastery with water. A major component to this ability is its skin, which is made of a flexible and highly absorbent tissue that can easily take in moisture from the surrounding air. It then combines the water with saliva produced inside its body, making it so that the liquid will stick to surfaces and be present for longer periods of time without sleeping into the ground.

Behaviour: Namielle are rather pacifistic monsters, often preferring to simply use their hydrokinetic abilities to wash away any intruders in their territory but is content to leave them be as long as they do not disturb it. Their bioluminescence has somewhat of a calming effect on other Elder Dragons, so fights rarely break out if they ever encounter each other. That being said, they will not shy away from a fight if the initial deterrent fails. They are noticeably quite intelligent and strategic when in battle, using the very area itself as a weapon while agiley dodging attacks and manipulating the movements of their opponents.

Habitat: Namielle are primarily aquatic, spending the majority of their lives in water. Many live out in the depths of the open sea, but it is believed that some inhabit the waters surrounding the New World. They are fully capable of surviving on land, but only choose to surface for a few months or so before returning underwater. In the New World, they have so far only been spotted in the Coral Highlands and the corresponding region in the Guiding Lands. It often causes heavy rain to occur whenever they are in an area, which often results in a boom in plant growth once it leaves.

Diet: Namielle are primarily piscivores, feeding on a wide variety of fish found throughout the sea or in lakes and rivers inland. Other aquatic species such as jellyfish and crustaceans are also eaten. They will sometimes feed on Grandfather Mantragells or Flying Meduso in the Coral Highlands, likely due to them being aerial counterparts of their usual aquatic prey. Previously unidentified bite marks on Plesioth carcasses washed ashore have been noted to bear resemblance to the teeth of Namielle, so it is believed that the Piscine Wyverns are an occasional food source for the Elder Dragon.

Attack Method: While they are no slouches in the physical department and are powerful enough to momentarily resist the overwhelming strength of a Savage Deviljho or momentarily stagger a Rajang, Namielle tend to favour using their elemental abilities. They shoot water out of their mouths as either globs that form puddles on the ground, released in large amounts as a surging wave, or focused into a high-pressure beam. If the beam makes contact with any puddles, they will explode with bursts of water. This is used in conjunction with its electricity, which has a high enough voltage to cause the water to explode into steam. It can manipulate these puddles to cause Hunters standing on them to lose their balance or be pushed and pulled around to its whim. The water can also be reabsorbed back into its body to form a protective membrane around its skin, cushioning against attacks. However, it has to be somewhat wary with its abilities. If it drains too much of its water supply, it becomes dehydrated. Not only does this make attacking much more difficult, its skin becomes soft and easier to damage. This can be remedied simply by absorbing more water, whether from an outside source or from its already created puddles. The most powerful attack of a Namielle, the “super move”, involves it draining all of its water at once and then pumping the resulting giant puddle full of electricity until it violently explodes. Due to the danger of dehydration this presents, it is a hit-and-run tactic and the monster must replenish its water supply afterwards.

Place in the Food Chain: Namielle are separated from any normal food chains due to being Elder Dragons. The only thing that they have to fear is a Ruiner Nergigante hunting them, which even then is a rare circumstance due to them only occasionally coming on land. While out at sea however, they would often have to fight Nakarkos and adult Gobul. The bioluminescence of Namielle deters fights with Abyssal Lagiacrus and Ceadi, relaxing and calming them as it matches their own respective bioluminescence. Some believe that this ability would also allow them to be one of the only creatures that Alatreon willingly interacts with, as it is theoretically possible for the two species to meet on the ocean floor.

This has been a report on the Namielle. Thank you for reading.

[electric-sympathy]

Vampire!Dean fic excerpt

Right, so, I know I said I was going to post a bit of Cathemeral, but I was going through my files and yet another unfinished Vampire!Dean fic caught my eye. I wrote it a number of years ago after a “painful transformation” commentfic prompt at Hoodietime. 

So, here is a quick excerpt from my Hellsing-inspired fic!!! Just finished fleshing it out. It’s about 1.5k words. Takes place after Dean has busted himself and Sam out of a stronghold of Crowley’s with a little help from an impromptu vampiric transformation, but as you can see, something went Very Wrong. I guess you could call this Chapter 3?

Enjoy!!!! Concrit welcome!!!

Sam is concentrating intently on a scan of a 14th century manuscript when he hears a noise right at his ear, like wings, drawn out and distorted as if through water, quiet and delicate.

There are four pure black moths on his forearm, gathered three in a circle at one point and one scuttling towards them, looking to squeeze in.

He flaps his hand at them. They collapse into shadow and swirl round his fingers like fog before dissipating, drawn unseen into the surrounding darkness.

There are three pinpricks in his skin.

--- * \ \ * \ \ * ---

Sam’s immediate thought is of Dean, unconscious in the bedroom. He rushes away from the computer, but pauses when he reaches the bedroom door, open just a crack. For just a moment, the suppositions that Dean needs protecting and that Dean himself could be the danger fight each other before Sam's guilt and protectiveness wins out. 

Cautious, he presses the pads of his fingers to the aged wood and eases the door open as silently as he can, edging inside, demon killing knife at his hip...

And then he stands in the doorway, staring, half in half out, one hand clutching the door frame. Trying to make sense of what he sees.

The shadows on Dean's body have broken their bounds.

They've spread out strangely, bigger than they should be, and are reaching out into three dimensional space. And like shadows, all he can see at a given point is the outline of the entire semitranslucent mass. 

At first, it looks like hydrangeas flowing in the breeze.

Sam edges cautiously further into the room. He can't match whatever this is to anything he knows about vampires, real or fictional, and can't help but use the caution pounded into him through years of hunting, Dean or not.

Closer now, he can make them out: Hundreds of moths made of pure shadow are clustered on Dean's body. Small wings flutter sluggishly as they wander drunkenly in each space portioned out to them, oblivious to Sam's entry. He waves his arms in the air, trying to get their attention, but none take notice. The revelation doesn't make any more sense to Sam than before. It doesn't seem like they're doing anything to Dean. They almost seem to be a part of him, with the way they seem to be reaching out from the shadows on his body. Part of whatever transformation he's going through. Sam can't think of anything like this, nothing he's read or encountered. Even Daeva are dramatically different shadow creatures-- more invisible than really made of shadow. The effect could almost be pretty, if it were not so obviously unnatural, or infesting his brother.

...Should he wake him? Would that make it stop? Should he make it stop? The answer seems obvious.

Sam creeps to the head of the bed. Slowly, he reaches towards the intersection between Dean's neck and shoulder. At the edges of that mass, he can see their beady little eyes as holes punched through the shadows.

It parts at the intrusion of his hand for a moment, the little things bumping lightly into each other as they move away, seemingly not sure what to make of him. But when the wave crests, they clamor for him as one. They reach out in a strange symmetry, four tendrils made up of a column of bugs to wrap around his forearm. Tens of dainty, long proboscides reach for his skin, and this time, he feels the pain. He panics, yanks his arm away, and there's a delicate pull like little threads snapping as he does. The moths are pulled free, and collapse from the force back into shadowy tendrils that recede into Dean's neck. That shadow looks normal again.

There are four rows of perfectly spaced lines of pinpricks wrapping up and around his forearm. Just barely big enough for blood to bead before clotting.

He waits, knife at the ready.

Nothing happens.

They've forgotten about him already. He waits as long as he can stand it, knife hand eventually falling dejected at his side. He concludes that their intelligence is rudimentary, if they are even sentient.

Well, he decides, at least I have something to go on now. He trots back to the side room to retrieve his laptop, focus newly replenished.

By the time he's back, setting himself up at the little desk at the window to watch out of the corner of his eye, little wings are budding like petals from the shadow at Dean's neck again.

Sam tries to cover up the knowledge that he is sitting vigil with the idea that at least he can tease Dean about being the Butterfly Boy when he wakes up.

--- * \ \ * \ \ * ---

"...The genus Calyptra is a group of moths in subfamily Calpinae of the family Erebidae. They are a member of the Calpini tribe, whose precise circumscription is uncertain but which includes a number of other fruit-piercing or eye-frequenting genera currently classified in Calpinae.

The common name of many of these species, vampire moth, refers to the habit that they have of drinking blood from vertebrates. Some of them (C. thalictri) are even capable of drinking human blood through skin..."

"...The Carpathian Mountains arch through the Czech Republic and then turn east, continuing on through Poland, Romania, Slovakia, and Ukraine before finally ending near the Danube River in Serbia. It is here in this mountain range that there lives a species of vampire known as a mahr. Living off the consumption of human souls, the mahr swoops down upon its victim in the form of a moth, taking a bite or two before flying off. The more often a mahr attacks a single victim, the easier it becomes for the vampire to do so in the future. Eventually the prey is killed and the soul consumed. Fortunately, there are two ways in which a mahr can be slain. The first is to...."

Sam stretches and runs his hands through his hair, turning away from the desk, and freezes.

Dean's awake.

Mostly.

The shadow moths are gone. Oversized, red irises with blown out pupils wander the room. He doesn't seem entirely aware of what he's looking at, or even what he's looking for. 

He's baring his fangs, and God, they're gigantic. 

As he works unconsciously to keep himself from drooling, his tongue laps out of his mouth like an angry dog's.

The expression on his face, however, is one only of sleepiness, confusion. Sam can tell that there's a slight undercurrent of distress trying to work its way through the fog.

Sam wonders if this is what it feels like to keep tigers.

"Dean?"

No answer. A little more confusion. A little less drooling.

Sam approaches the bed. He cards his hand through Dean's hair and lets it rest there. The warm weight seems to snap Dean out of it slightly; his pupils visibly retract, and he slowly stops his search through the room to stare sleepily at nothing, face slackening. His eyes seem to lose most of that preternatural scarlet glow; the structure of his irises is now visible through it again, which are now an odd brownish-maroon color. 

"Go back to sleep, Dean," he murmurs, soft and low, and tries unsuccessfully to hide the sadness  in his tone.

Dean's eyelids grow heavy and the alert tension drains out of him. His head burrows into the pillow and a soft, utterly self-unconscious exhale of breath escapes his lips. He falls back asleep almost immediately.

Sam has wished since before Dean's deal that he would accept the comfort he obviously needed, but not like this.

Falling asleep so easily... It made him look like a big kid. Sam welcomes the choking love for his brother, so absent this past year.

He stays by the bedside for a long time.

--- * \ \ * \ \ * ---

Castiel shows up at dusk a few hours later, a sizeable jar of demon blood held to his side, furtively, like contraband. As usual, there is no expression on his face, but his body language seems uncomfortable. It's something he must have scavenged from Bobby's pantry which, strangely, makes it look for all the world like a harmless half gallon of blackberry preserve.

The fact that it isn't for Sam doesn't make him feel any better.

Castiel ignores its presence entirely and gets straight to the point. The moths returned shortly after Dean fell back asleep, but if Castiel is surprised by them he doesn't verbalize it.

"How is he?"

"He woke up for a few minutes a couple hours ago, but he didn't seem..." Sam's face screws up. He tries again. "It was like he could tell there was a... A source of blood in the room, but he wouldn't focus on anything. Didn't respond when I tried to talk to him."

Castiel is staring at Dean all the while, head tilted in that way of his when thinking hard. Usually, it seems as though he's scrutinizing the space between atoms, but there's a line of frustration in his brow that makes it seem like he can't see anything. Sam wonders if he paid any attention to what he'd just said.

In that moment, Dean's head lifts from the pillow, drawing both their gazes.

Sam would've thought that having his pupils less dilated would make Dean's gaze feel less... animal, but it didn't. The glow had returned, making his owlish irises shine with a smooth, ruby iridescence.

The moths surge up from behind his neck, piling over each other, restless. Sam can actually hear the agitated titter of their wings this time.

He doesn't think he can watch this.

[sprigsofheather]

the darkness

i’ve given in to the darkness lately.

it’s a darkness that enshrouds me and scowls at me before it grabs me by the scruff of my neck and drags me down to its depths, and i can’t breathe, and i can’t see, and it feels like there’s no way out of the black hole i’m in.

but it’s the darkness i’ve always known, it’s a place i’ve called home for a lot of my life, a wee child, before i grew old enough to learn how to pretend everything was fine -

i adorned the black hole with fairy lights and fashioned a façade of being alright, a plight for healing disguised with disingenuous meaning but i faked it till i made it - somewhere, at least.

but i’m so scared, i’m so fucking scared of the feeling and so severely wounded that it’s easier not to care that i’m bleeding, bleeding from my roots and into the offshoots breaking into a million pieces.

you can understand this, right? not even the brightest light i can muster can synthesise the fragments of my soul back together - before they all fall apart again.

and i fall apart so easily, wilting like a flower, a blessing and a curse... so i ask God for help but my faith has been wavering so he hasn’t been listening lately, and i haven’t been listening either, really.

i just listen to the most evil voices in my head that are telling me that being in love means pain - it’s the story i know best, from the guidelines that were set for me growing up. i’m still a kid when it comes to love.

but i learned over time that these voices are maligned, so i’ve been known to just seek the sweet songs that can be sung into my mind, but the sugar was saccharine and rotted my teeth and i engorged on what was good like it was a fucking drug sucking from its teat like i could never get enough,

i can never get enough, it’s never enough, i’ll admit it: i’m an addict, a hedonist, a junkie, wasted. wasting away. a life to live for seems so far away.

and i smoke to hide the pain in my chest, the pain in my heart that never fails to ache. i feel like if i can inflict the pain myself with another sort of poison, it’ll be the antidote to the pain that’s already there. it’s a pain that i’ve chosen, and if i choose to hurt myself at least i have control over what hurts me. because i’m scared of being hurt by others because it’s hurt before. 

it’s hurt so much before.

***

‘we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’ oscar wilde once said, and the gutter i find myself in is cold and damp and unforgiving. i submerge my fingers and toes in the black sludge of the drain just to feel something. just some sort of something. just to feel like something is there for me. a sick sort of comfort tends to me.

and i clench my hand into a fist and the sludge spills out and stains my wrist the colour of the most pained parts of my heart. black.

i feel like i’ve clutched onto the hands of my most venomous demons, but i only need to look up to the night sky to see the stars of hope shine onto me, eternally, and to see you there with your hand, outstretched for me. healing awaits me, angels sing for me.

but your hand has been there for me less and less because i’ve kept denying you and pushing you away. slapping the hand away instead of cradling it to my chest. and the angels now sing their song of warning before they fly back to heaven, because i’m been waiting to be forgiven without being willing to repent.

because i choose the demons over you, almost every time. the devil is tempting me and i’m confused and scared because he’s wearing a mask of your face, and it’s fucking terrifying, but it’s what feels like home... 

and the cut is so deep, it seems, that when love threatens to flower it overpowers my nervous system and the wound re-opens and bleeds and bleeds and it just doesn’t seem to stop... i thought the wound was healing, but only now am i just feeling some of the pain that i haven’t felt for years. time to tend to the past and cry the tears of a wounded girl, a wounded woman, a wounded soul fraught with fears.

***

the morning after i met you, i left the sofa where we slept together and went to my room and cried. my heart hurt and so i cried; my heart hurt because it sensed the possibility of love and immediately began to throb with pain. and that was arguably the thing that hurt the most, that in the acknowledgement of something so beautiful and divine, the possibility of the greatest thing we have - the possibility to love - that my demons should smirk at me and show me no mercy.

here’s your pain motherfucker, and you’re going to feel it. no chance of being in love until you deal with it. let’s have it here, right now, whilst he’s here with you. show him the bitch you can be and see if he still wants to be with you. and serves you right if he leaves you. 

that’s what they say... but i know it’s not true. i know i’m deserving of love but i’m hurt so i’m hurting and hurting you...

so i take responsibility for the pain i have caused, for the disgraceful way i have used my words... our words are our weapon, a double-edged sword - so easy to protect, but so easy to cause harm. i’ve done what i thought was right, but i admit that i’ve been wrong. and i forgive myself above all for being human.

i used to delude myself with the illusion that i could be all light and no dark. i used to think i had nothing but good intentions for anything and anyone, and i was wrong. it’s wrong, anyway, to believe that we can be nothing but beacons of good. i’d misunderstood the nature of being human, and i’ll admit i had an unrealistic expectation of myself for being more than who i was, being more than anyone around me, more than i ever could be, or anyone could be.

because if i was perfect no-one could see the ugliness that lies beneath me. and i did a good job of decorating a broken soul with extragance and embellishment, and now when i’m confronted with myself and my honesty i can only tell a story. i’ve dramatised my life into an art, a tragedy, a comedy.

and our love story is gothic, it’s no coincidence we both like macbeth, and that was one of the first interests we shared. remember back then? our love was still pure but now it’s been tainted and dragged through the mud. an innocent flower that’s been trampled on, its purpose misunderstood. and the serpent came out from under’t and spewed pure venom...

but that’s the thing with flowers - they’re ephemeral, they don’t last forever. that’s what’s beautiful about them really, how they bring us joy for a fleeting moment. and appreciating that joy in the moment of life is the experience of love, but clinging onto what’s dead will only hurt us more. 

and lest we forget that flowers will always grow. they die quickly, but they grow again... maybe it’s time to let what needs to die away to die away, and to plant the seeds for something new to blossom. and let’s nurture that. mother nature is on our side, she’ll ensure our love will not be forgotten.

flowers, remember, are delicate. i need the gentle warmth from the sun, the nourishment from my roots beneath me, the replenishment of the rain. an existing set of conditions put in place to ensure i thrive. i’m only now starting to realise what’s best for me and what’s not, but i’ve survived this whole time... all i can say is that this flower knows how to regenerate quickly when she needs to, and some seeds and seasons are better than others.

definitely.

and after confession i can see the glint of light, now, looking up from the gutter. i’ve loosened the chains on my neck, and i’ve accepted some of the help from my angels, and now it doesn’t suffocate to look up anymore. the stars are slowly starting to come out, in my mind, in my emotions, and now i’m starting to see that they were always already there.

even if the clouds cover them, even if the night sky is blanketed with black. even when i was blinded by illusions and i believed they weren’t there... the stars are always there, and we know that, we have trust that they remain, even when they’re unseen. that’s a lesson between us we need to learn... that hope and light are our beacon, and it’s always there, even when we believe it’s not. even when everything from our past makes us believe that it’s not. it’s there, it really is. and we must follow that north star.

july 2020

[icedfairy]

Fate / Touhou Servant Lancer Post

Hata no Kokoro, the Lost Emotion Primary Class : Lancer (Rider, Caster) Strength : C Endurance : B Agility : B Magic : A Luck : C Skills : Mask of the Heart : A As a menreiki, Kokoro is innately in tune with emotions.  Her emotions can’t be manipulated.  However her masks always show her current emotion hindering attempts at deception. Charisma : B Kokoro’s charisma is unique in that it comes from her ability to manipulate the emotions of others.  Those with high Magic Resistance attributes can ignore her charisma attribute. Divinity : E As a tool of worship Kokoro has absorbed some divinity.  However she has no followers of her own so it’s very weak. Protection of the Dancing Muse (True) : B This represents Kokoro’s divine connection to dancing.  Makes possible to quickly learn and perform all dances. Furthermore, modifiers are applied to the exercise of dancing magecraft. Noble Phantasm : Dark Noh Play : B/D (Anti Person/Anti Army) Kokoro’s masks were created to bring balance to Japan’s emotions.  However the truth was Shotoku crafted them to help control Japan.  And so Kokoro’s Dark Noh play drains the emotions of her enemies, leaving them paralyzed by apathy and at the mercy of her naginata. The effect is strongest against her ‘partner’ in the dance.  However the technique takes some time to perform, meaning it’s dangerous in a battle against many strong foes.  On the other hand Normal humans will succumb quickly, allowing her to clear an area fast while she fights. Hata no Kokoro is famed across her home country.  No one is certain if she’s alive or not, but even today rumors of her return send fear throughout the underworld.  The summoning data suggests she can only be summoned from her later years, as the dark heroine who traveled the country, bringing her own brand of vigilante justice to those who drew her wrath.

Masters will find her strong willed but less quick to battle then her rider form.  She’s willing to maneuver through the shadows and attack foes when they’re at their weakest, though her lack of independent action and presence concealment prevent her from acting as an assassin.

Remilia Scarlet, the Scarlet Devil Primary Class : Lancer (Assassin, Archer, Caster, Berserker) Strength : B Endurance : A Agility : A Magic : B Luck : EX Skills: Vampirism : A- Remilia can absorb energy from others by drinking their blood, replenishing her health and magic.  However as a light feeder she can only drink enough to bring herself to full strength.  If she managed to kill someone with this ability they would rise as a ghoul, but she can't stomach that much blood. Shapeshifting : C- She can transform into wolf, bats, or mist as a vampire.  However she can't shift fully back, leaving her with bat wings even in human form. Mystic Eyes : A+ Remilia possesses the Mystic Eyes of Fate Manipulation, Jewel class mystic eyes.  With it she can see everything in the future except herself.   However she does see how her intended actions affect the future.  This allows her to twist the future to best suit her desired outcomes.  In action this gives her near perfect luck, as she picks the best future she can see. Blood Magic : B Remilia can manipulate blood, transforming it into attacks or using it to speed healing. Battle Continuation : A As a vampire she can fight even on the verge of death.  Wounds are meaningless until the fatal blow is struck. Noble Phantasm: Spear, the Gungnir : B (Anti Person) Not a true spear, but a mote of blood thrown at incredible speed.  Unlike a lance Remilia can guide the spear mid flight.  It somehow still contains the divine essence of the Gungnir within its form.  Just as Odin's spear represented inescapable Fate, Remilia's spear represents a Fate that seeks its foes. The Scarlet Devil is a well known figure, but even the Grail System has a hard time reading into her past.  Researchers have claimed she's a descendent of Vlad III (very unlikely), secretly a True Ancestor (even less likely), or a completely unique demon (slightly more likely).  There's also data suggesting a divinity rank and a second NP called Breaking Ragnarok.  Whatever the case her questionable lineage has given her access to the Lancer class, even though her spear was actually a blood bullet.

Bratty and smug, Remilia is actually a fairly reasonable servant if treated well.  Her unique abilities within the Lancer Class give her master an advantage in any war.  However those who press her limits should beware.  She knows her master's plans, and is quite willing to act to preserve her status.

Cirno, First Knight of Winter Class : Lancer Strength : A Endurance : A Agility : D Magic : E Luck : D Skills: Riding : A All vehicles and all creatures excluding divine beasts can be ridden.  She summons her steed, Frostmane for battles. Military Tactics : B She especially excels at small unit tactics with combined forces, and is capable of managing entire battlefields while still fighting. Battle Continuation : A As a fairy, she will fight until the fatal blow is struck, ignoring even lost limbs.  However she cannot recover from death. Protection from Arrows : C Her reformable ice shield allows her to block projectiles and low grade spells from one direction so long as she knows the attack is coming. Fairy Queen's Favor : A Cirno is immune to fear and charm effects. Noble Phantasm : Godslaying Lance : C (Anti Person) While seeming like an ordinary spear of ice, research shows it has a deadly effect on spirits with Divinity and Divine protections.  For unknown reasons, any divine protective ability will fail, and anything with Divinity struck by it will suffer extra damage and lose their divine protections.  This effect appears strong enough to defeat even the highest level divine abilities.  Stranger still, Cirno can reform the lance when broken. This variant claims she's from a past that "never happened."  She also claims to have slain **** so her testimony is fairly unreliable.  However she conducts herself as a fey knight from the west, before the collapse and rebirth of the fairy court.   Perhaps she's related to the strange disconnect between the eastern and western fairies.

This Cirno acts purely as a knight, devoted to chivalry, though she practices a strange form to most knights.  Despite being a lancer, she'll fight most foes with both blade and spear, acting more like a rider.  However her noble phantasm is without a doubt the core of her power, thus the reason for her class.

Shou Toramaru, Avatar of Bishamonten Primary Class : Lancer Strength : A Endurance : B Agility : C Magic : B Luck : A

Skills: Divinity : A- Since she's summoned from before she fully ascended to Bishamonten, she doesn't have her full divine powers.  However she's still a powerful goddess. Treasure Magnet : A+++ Rather than someone who finds treasure, Shou is someone treasure finds.   People will bring her items, or she'll stumble into them.  At her rank it's possible to even stumble across holy relics given enough time and luck.  While similar to Golden Rule, Shou finds objects she treasures, rather than wealth. Wrath of Heaven : B The ability to use thunder and lightning as a weapon.  While it uses her Magic stat, it is less magecraft and more the direct reflection of her divine power.  In addition this makes her immune to lightning and electricity. Defender of Temples : B All Buddhist temples are considered her territory, as if she had territory creation rank B.  This boosts her magic and her strength. Charisma : A- A godly charisma, given to her to help rule the yakkha.  Her younger self has yet to fully grow into it, though some find her fumblings endearing. Noble Phantasm : War God's Spear : C-A The spear of Bishamonten, the strikes down the evil and the unjust.  Unique among Noble Phantasms in that it is part of her being as a god, rather than a simple weapon.  Thus when calling forth it's power, she reveals her own name openly, challenging evil.

The spear burns brightly when it strikes those who have sinned.  Of course merely opposing the war god is a sin, so it always burns.  Evil servants or those who have defiled temples will find her spear even more dangerous. It's uncertain why only the younger Shou can be summoned.  Perhaps it's due to her increased understanding of Buddhism.  Either way, she is a strong lancer, using her divine abilities to gain advantage over her foes, then overwhelm them.

As the ancient records show before Shou fully grew into her godhood, she was occasionally klutzy, forgetful, and hesitant.  Some have considered calling her "Shou Lily" though as with all servants, she's not to be underestimated.  Her divine spear is a massive threat to all who face her.

Side Note : When asked why Nazrin is not a heroic servant, she replied that Nazrin opposes the idea of being a hero in her own right.  It is Nazrin's duty to be the sidekick. A sentiment that has no place in a grail war.  Perhaps if the grail system was used for a different purpose Nazrin could be summoned.

Nue, the Unknown Primary Class : Lancer (Assassin) Strength : B Endurance : C Agility : A Magic : B Luck : C

Skills : Seeds of Unknown Form : A Nue can make any object, including herself, appear to be something different.  This is a self inflicted illusion, so each individual viewer decides what the object is, based on their own assumptions.  If the viewer knows for sure what the object should be they are immune to this effect. Shapeshifting : B Nue has the ability to shift into a bird with a snake's body, a cloud of dark smoke, or a serpent tailed gorilla/tiger.  These are not part of her true abilities, but come from her many legends. Disengage : A+ When "slain" Nue can flee and restart the battle later.  This comes from the varied legends of her death, and her escapes from them.  Nue can use this skill once a day, and she must flee the fight.  Not attempt to use the distraction for an attack. Noble Phantasm :

Stabbing Hunger : B Nue's lance is a manifestation of plague and famine, the legend that birthed her form.  It is the unknown malady that strikes the rich and the poor alike, and which leaves ruin in its wake.  When called upon the blow can only be defended against with Endurance, instead of Agility.  It flows around blocks, and moves faster than thought to envelop its foe.  However as an earthly ill, it is ineffective against those who have no fear of sickness or need of food. Nue being summonable was to be expected.  However strangely it seems her prefered class is Lancer rather than Assassin.   Perhaps it's because of how the Unknown has changed in people's minds, or if Nue herself changed.  Given it's uncertain if Nue is still alive no one can ask.  Even if she would answer.

As a Lancer she's still a trickster and a hit and run fighter.  She's likely to use her seeds of unknown form to manipulate the battlefield, while performing hit and run attacks.  If defeated she'll retreat for the day to reset her Disengage skill.

[authorcecelia]

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DEATH WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING

No one’s afterlife is as dispiriting as Audrey’s-at least that’s what she believes after waking up dead without her memories and being promptly assigned to hunt demons for the rest of eternity.

She’s convinced God’s made a cosmic mistake; after all, she’d rather discuss the color of her nails than break them on angelic weapons. It doesn’t help that her trainer, Logan, is as infuriating as he is attractive. And just when Audrey and Logan appear close to developing an amicable relationship, a decision made under duress will push their hearts in a direction neither of them saw coming.

Despite her sub-par fighting abilities, an ancient weapon of unparalleled power chooses Audrey as its wielder, attracting the cautious gazes of her fellow hunters and the attention of Satan himself. With Satan’s eyes now fixed on Audrey, a battle for the safety of the living looms in the shadows.

VAMPIRES AND WEREWOLVES SHOULDN’T FALL IN LOVE

Lysandra was born for one reason; to kill shifters. Princess of vampires, the heir to Vlad Dracula’s throne and the last descendant of Princess Anastasia, Lysandra lives in a castle of witches and human slaves,engaged to a dark vampire prince and prophesied as the one who will end the war between vampires and werewolves forever.

Everything changes when Lysandra finds a dying werewolf. She takes him into her care and quickly falls in love, unable to explain the magical connection between them. If she’s discovered, she will be put to death. But how can she stop the war when her worst enemy is her true love?

A heart-stopping love story filled with shocking twists, Court of Vampires is a thrilling young adult fantasy that readers will devour over and over again. The legend of what really happened to the Romanov family is retold in Megan Linski’s newest haunting paranormal romance.

IS SHE HEAVEN’S DEVIL OR HELL’S ANGEL?

Callie is a middle-class, Midwest American girl. And a wizard in training. She works for Roland, a member of the Vatican Shepherds – an elite group of twelve warrior priests who travel the world smiting whatever offends them or their Good Lord.

Callie must learn where she stands as a wizard. Will she hide behind a man, or light Kansas City afire with a name of her own?

Callie soon learns she isn’t just a wizard. Monsters have evidently been hunting Callie her entire life, and now, they’ve finally found her…

THEY SAY DEMONS AND ANGELS DON’T MIX.

I say people should mind their own damn business.

My brother, Damian, has been my rock ever since mom left. Didn’t matter that I’m demon-blooded. I was his and he was mine.

But nothing lasts forever.

He wants me to go to college. I’d rather fight a hundred sentinels than lead a boring, safe life hiding who I am. So when a nephilim goes missing, I go behind Damian’s back to find the teen. Maybe if I can solve the case, he will upgrade me to his partner in crime solving.

As bodies begin dropping, I realize I’m in way over my head. But there’s no way I’m going to admit that, not when my future hangs in the balance. It’s do or die time, and I’m not going down without a fight.

ATLAS MORGAN JUST FOUND THE VILLAIN OF HER DREAMS

A ruthless, demonic army stands ready to attack; to bathe in the blood of all mankind. The only thing that has protected us from them is a mystical river which will run dry by midnight of the winter solace.

The paranormal community— referred to as Shadows—has been given seven chances to complete a quest that will replenish the river. They have failed six times. So, for the seventh and final time, the Shadows look to an unlikely source–seventeen-year-old human girl–Atlas Morgan.

Atlas has just lost the only person in the world that ever truly loved her—her mother. Though she is drowning in grief and sorrow, when she learns she is the chosen one, she gathers up the courage to agree to the quest. However, Atlas encounters something far more frightening than Werewolves, Vampires and Witches—love. His name is Kane and she’s shocked to learn that, like her, Kane has been chosen too–not to save the world but to end it…

FOR CENTURIES, AZRAEL’S SOLE PURPOSE WAS TO FIND HER–AND KILL HER.

And now he has her, just down the hall to be exact! So beautiful and fragile, she is so close he can almost hear her precious blood pumping through her veins. Blood he has been hunting for since the day he fell.

His mind is screaming, “Kill her. Stick to the plan, drain her blood, and ascend to Heaven.” But every fibre of his soul refuses to harm her.

If he won’t kill her, what will he do with the beautiful Lilliah Daniels?

He smirks. He might be an Angel, but he’s never claimed to be a saint.

AN INTRIGUING, MYSTERIOUS, FORGOTTEN PAST

“Whatever it was that caused my strange reaction to him, it couldn’t create energy between us. Or could it?”

I thought I was alone. Nobody else had a forgotten past, mysterious tattooed symbol and extrasensory ability. Then I found others like me in a small Colorado town – others with broken memories and strange gifts.

Among them the dark eyed man I’m inexplicably drawn to. When I’m with him, my body remembers what my mind cannot, but as much as I crave his touch and presence, there’s a restlessness inside me I can’t ignore. I need to know what happened to me.

A NECKLACE CONTAINING THE SONGS OF THE ANGELS IS ALL SHE HAS LEFT AFTER A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE

Julia spent her childhood putting her life in order after abandonment, but now, it’s all coming unraveled again. Facing an explosion, a kidnapping, and battles in a realm other than Earth, with a Guardian angel who’s as infuriating as he is attractive, Julia has to come to terms with the fact that she’s not quite human, and fending off demons is nothing, once the devil comes for her.

But it may be too late to save the ones she loves by the time she accepts the challenge he’s putting before her.

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[readbookywooks]

The Red Sea

DURING THE DAY of January 29, the island of Ceylon disappeared below the horizon, and at a speed of twenty miles per hour, the Nautilus glided into the labyrinthine channels that separate the Maldive and Laccadive Islands. It likewise hugged Kiltan Island, a shore of madreporic origin discovered by Vasco da Gama in 1499 and one of nineteen chief islands in the island group of the Laccadives, located between latitude 10 degrees and 14 degrees 30' north, and between longitude 50 degrees 72' and 69 degrees east. By then we had fared 16,220 miles, or 7,500 leagues, from our starting point in the seas of Japan. The next day, January 30, when the Nautilus rose to the surface of the ocean, there was no more land in sight. Setting its course to the north-northwest, the ship headed toward the Gulf of Oman, carved out between Arabia and the Indian peninsula and providing access to the Persian Gulf. This was obviously a blind alley with no possible outlet. So where was Captain Nemo taking us? I was unable to say. Which didn't satisfy the Canadian, who that day asked me where we were going. "We're going, Mr. Ned, where the captain's fancy takes us." "His fancy," the Canadian replied, "won't take us very far. The Persian Gulf has no outlet, and if we enter those waters, it won't be long before we return in our tracks." "All right, we'll return, Mr. Land, and after the Persian Gulf, if the Nautilus wants to visit the Red Sea, the Strait of Bab el Mandeb is still there to let us in!" "I don't have to tell you, sir," Ned Land replied, "that the Red Sea is just as landlocked as the gulf, since the Isthmus of Suez hasn't been cut all the way through yet; and even if it was, a boat as secretive as ours wouldn't risk a canal intersected with locks. So the Red Sea won't be our way back to Europe either." "But I didn't say we'd return to Europe." "What do you figure, then?" "I figure that after visiting these unusual waterways of Arabia and Egypt, the Nautilus will go back down to the Indian Ocean, perhaps through Mozambique Channel, perhaps off the Mascarene Islands, and then make for the Cape of Good Hope." "And once we're at the Cape of Good Hope?" the Canadian asked with typical persistence. "Well then, we'll enter that Atlantic Ocean with which we aren't yet familiar. What's wrong, Ned my friend? Are you tired of this voyage under the seas? Are you bored with the constantly changing sight of these underwater wonders? Speaking for myself, I'll be extremely distressed to see the end of a voyage so few men will ever have a chance to make." "But don't you realize, Professor Aronnax," the Canadian replied, "that soon we'll have been imprisoned for three whole months aboard this Nautilus?" "No, Ned, I didn't realize it, I don't want to realize it, and I don't keep track of every day and every hour." "But when will it be over?" "In its appointed time. Meanwhile there's nothing we can do about it, and our discussions are futile. My gallant Ned, if you come and tell me, 'A chance to escape is available to us,' then I'll discuss it with you. But that isn't the case, and in all honesty, I don't think Captain Nemo ever ventures into European seas." This short dialogue reveals that in my mania for the Nautilus, I was turning into the spitting image of its commander. As for Ned Land, he ended our talk in his best speechifying style: "That's all fine and dandy. But in my humble opinion, a life in jail is a life without joy." For four days until February 3, the Nautilus inspected the Gulf of Oman at various speeds and depths. It seemed to be traveling at random, as if hesitating over which course to follow, but it never crossed the Tropic of Cancer. After leaving this gulf we raised Muscat for an instant, the most important town in the country of Oman. I marveled at its strange appearance in the midst of the black rocks surrounding it, against which the white of its houses and forts stood out sharply. I spotted the rounded domes of its mosques, the elegant tips of its minarets, and its fresh, leafy terraces. But it was only a fleeting vision, and the Nautilus soon sank beneath the dark waves of these waterways. Then our ship went along at a distance of six miles from the Arabic coasts of Mahra and Hadhramaut, their undulating lines of mountains relieved by a few ancient ruins. On February 5 we finally put into the Gulf of Aden, a genuine funnel stuck into the neck of Bab el Mandeb and bottling these Indian waters in the Red Sea. On February 6 the Nautilus cruised in sight of the city of Aden, perched on a promontory connected to the continent by a narrow isthmus, a sort of inaccessible Gibraltar whose fortifications the English rebuilt after capturing it in 1839. I glimpsed the octagonal minarets of this town, which used to be one of the wealthiest, busiest commercial centers along this coast, as the Arab historian Idrisi tells it. I was convinced that when Captain Nemo reached this point, he would back out again; but I was mistaken, and much to my surprise, he did nothing of the sort. The next day, February 7, we entered the Strait of Bab el Mandeb, whose name means "Gate of Tears" in the Arabic language. Twenty miles wide, it's only fifty-two kilometers long, and with the Nautilus launched at full speed, clearing it was the work of barely an hour. But I didn't see a thing, not even Perim Island where the British government built fortifications to strengthen Aden's position. There were many English and French steamers plowing this narrow passageway, liners going from Suez to Bombay, Calcutta, Melbourne, Reunion Island, and Mauritius; far too much traffic for the Nautilus to make an appearance on the surface. So it wisely stayed in midwater. Finally, at noon, we were plowing the waves of the Red Sea. The Red Sea: that great lake so famous in biblical traditions, seldom replenished by rains, fed by no important rivers, continually drained by a high rate of evaporation, its water level dropping a meter and a half every year! If it were fully landlocked like a lake, this odd gulf might dry up completely; on this score it's inferior to its neighbors, the Caspian Sea and the Dead Sea, whose levels lower only to the point where their evaporation exactly equals the amounts of water they take to their hearts. This Red Sea is 2,600 kilometers long with an average width of 240. In the days of the Ptolemies and the Roman emperors, it was a great commercial artery for the world, and when its isthmus has been cut through, it will completely regain that bygone importance that the Suez railways have already brought back in part. I would not even attempt to understand the whim that induced Captain Nemo to take us into this gulf. But I wholeheartedly approved of the Nautilus's entering it. It adopted a medium pace, sometimes staying on the surface, sometimes diving to avoid some ship, and so I could observe both the inside and topside of this highly unusual sea. On February 8, as early as the first hours of daylight, Mocha appeared before us: a town now in ruins, whose walls would collapse at the mere sound of a cannon, and which shelters a few leafy date trees here and there. This once-important city used to contain six public marketplaces plus twenty-six mosques, and its walls, protected by fourteen forts, fashioned a three-kilometer girdle around it. Then the Nautilus drew near the beaches of Africa, where the sea is considerably deeper. There, through the open panels and in a midwater of crystal clarity, our ship enabled us to study wonderful bushes of shining coral and huge chunks of rock wrapped in splendid green furs of algae and fucus. What an indescribable sight, and what a variety of settings and scenery where these reefs and volcanic islands leveled off by the Libyan coast! But soon the Nautilus hugged the eastern shore where these tree forms appeared in all their glory. This was off the coast of Tihama, and there such zoophyte displays not only flourished below sea level but they also fashioned picturesque networks that unreeled as high as ten fathoms above it; the latter were more whimsical but less colorful than the former, which kept their bloom thanks to the moist vitality of the waters. How many delightful hours I spent in this way at the lounge window! How many new specimens of underwater flora and fauna I marveled at beneath the light of our electric beacon! Mushroom-shaped fungus coral, some slate-colored sea anemone including the species Thalassianthus aster among others, organ-pipe coral arranged like flutes and just begging for a puff from the god Pan, shells unique to this sea that dwell in madreporic cavities and whose bases are twisted into squat spirals, and finally a thousand samples of a polypary I hadn't observed until then: the common sponge. First division in the polyp group, the class Spongiaria has been created by scientists precisely for this unusual exhibit whose usefulness is beyond dispute. The sponge is definitely not a plant, as some naturalists still believe, but an animal of the lowest order, a polypary inferior even to coral. Its animal nature isn't in doubt, and we can't accept even the views of the ancients, who regarded it as halfway between plant and animal. But I must say that naturalists are not in agreement on the structural mode of sponges. For some it's a polypary, and for others, such as Professor Milne-Edwards, it's a single, solitary individual. The class Spongiaria contains about 300 species that are encountered in a large number of seas and even in certain streams, where they've been given the name freshwater sponges. But their waters of choice are the Red Sea and the Mediterranean near the Greek Islands or the coast of Syria. These waters witness the reproduction and growth of soft, delicate bath sponges whose prices run as high as 150 francs apiece: the yellow sponge from Syria, the horn sponge from Barbary, etc. But since I had no hope of studying these zoophytes in the seaports of the Levant, from which we were separated by the insuperable Isthmus of Suez, I had to be content with observing them in the waters of the Red Sea. So I called Conseil to my side, while at an average depth of eight to nine meters, the Nautilus slowly skimmed every beautiful rock on the easterly coast. There sponges grew in every shape, globular, stalklike, leaflike, fingerlike. With reasonable accuracy, they lived up to their nicknames of basket sponges, chalice sponges, distaff sponges, elkhorn sponges, lion's paws, peacock's tails, and Neptune's gloves-designations bestowed on them by fishermen, more poetically inclined than scientists. A gelatinous, semifluid substance coated the fibrous tissue of these sponges, and from this tissue there escaped a steady trickle of water that, after carrying sustenance to each cell, was being expelled by a contracting movement. This jellylike substance disappears when the polyp dies, emitting ammonia as it rots. Finally nothing remains but the fibers, either gelatinous or made of horn, that constitute your household sponge, which takes on a russet hue and is used for various tasks depending on its degree of elasticity, permeability, or resistance to saturation. These polyparies were sticking to rocks, shells of mollusks, and even the stalks of water plants. They adorned the smallest crevices, some sprawling, others standing or hanging like coral outgrowths. I told Conseil that sponges are fished up in two ways, either by dragnet or by hand. The latter method calls for the services of a diver, but it's preferable because it spares the polypary's tissue, leaving it with a much higher market value. Other zoophytes swarming near the sponges consisted chiefly of a very elegant species of jellyfish; mollusks were represented by varieties of squid that, according to Professor Orbigny, are unique to the Red Sea; and reptiles by virgata turtles belonging to the genus Chelonia, which furnished our table with a dainty but wholesome dish. As for fish, they were numerous and often remarkable. Here are the ones that the Nautilus's nets most frequently hauled on board: rays, including spotted rays that were oval in shape and brick red in color, their bodies strewn with erratic blue speckles and identifiable by their jagged double stings, silver-backed skates, common stingrays with stippled tails, butterfly rays that looked like huge two-meter cloaks flapping at middepth, toothless guitarfish that were a type of cartilaginous fish closer to the shark, trunkfish known as dromedaries that were one and a half feet long and had humps ending in backward-curving stings, serpentine moray eels with silver tails and bluish backs plus brown pectorals trimmed in gray piping, a species of butterfish called the fiatola decked out in thin gold stripes and the three colors of the French flag, Montague blennies four decimeters long, superb jacks handsomely embellished by seven black crosswise streaks with blue and yellow fins plus gold and silver scales, snooks, standard mullet with yellow heads, parrotfish, wrasse, triggerfish, gobies, etc., plus a thousand other fish common to the oceans we had already crossed. On February 9 the Nautilus cruised in the widest part of the Red Sea, measuring 190 miles straight across from Suakin on the west coast to Qunfidha on the east coast. At noon that day after our position fix, Captain Nemo climbed onto the platform, where I happened to be. I vowed not to let him go below again without at least sounding him out on his future plans. As soon as he saw me, he came over, graciously offered me a cigar, and said to me: "Well, professor, are you pleased with this Red Sea? Have you seen enough of its hidden wonders, its fish and zoophytes, its gardens of sponges and forests of coral? Have you glimpsed the towns built on its shores?" "Yes, Captain Nemo," I replied, "and the Nautilus is wonderfully suited to this whole survey. Ah, it's a clever boat!" "Yes, sir, clever, daring, and invulnerable! It fears neither the Red Sea's dreadful storms nor its currents and reefs." "Indeed," I said, "this sea is mentioned as one of the worst, and in the days of the ancients, if I'm not mistaken, it had an abominable reputation." "Thoroughly abominable, Professor Aronnax. The Greek and Latin historians can find nothing to say in its favor, and the Greek geographer Strabo adds that it's especially rough during the rainy season and the period of summer prevailing winds. The Arab Idrisi, referring to it by the name Gulf of Colzoum, relates that ships perished in large numbers on its sandbanks and that no one risked navigating it by night. This, he claims, is a sea subject to fearful hurricanes, strewn with inhospitable islands, and 'with nothing good to offer,' either on its surface or in its depths. As a matter of fact, the same views can also be found in Arrian, Agatharchides, and Artemidorus." "One can easily see," I answered, "that those historians didn't navigate aboard the Nautilus." "Indeed," the captain replied with a smile, "and in this respect, the moderns aren't much farther along than the ancients. It took many centuries to discover the mechanical power of steam! Who knows whether we'll see a second Nautilus within the next 100 years! Progress is slow, Professor Aronnax." "It's true," I replied. "Your ship is a century ahead of its time, perhaps several centuries. It would be most unfortunate if such a secret were to die with its inventor!" Captain Nemo did not reply. After some minutes of silence: "We were discussing," he said, "the views of ancient historians on the dangers of navigating this Red Sea?" "True," I replied. "But weren't their fears exaggerated?" "Yes and no, Professor Aronnax," answered Captain Nemo, who seemed to know "his Red Sea" by heart. "To a modern ship, well rigged, solidly constructed, and in control of its course thanks to obedient steam, some conditions are no longer hazardous that offered all sorts of dangers to the vessels of the ancients. Picture those early navigators venturing forth in sailboats built from planks lashed together with palm-tree ropes, caulked with powdered resin, and coated with dogfish grease. They didn't even have instruments for taking their bearings, they went by guesswork in the midst of currents they barely knew. Under such conditions, shipwrecks had to be numerous. But nowadays steamers providing service between Suez and the South Seas have nothing to fear from the fury of this gulf, despite the contrary winds of its monsoons. Their captains and passengers no longer prepare for departure with sacrifices to placate the gods, and after returning, they don't traipse in wreaths and gold ribbons to say thanks at the local temple." "Agreed," I said. "And steam seems to have killed off all gratitude in seamen's hearts. But since you seem to have made a special study of this sea, captain, can you tell me how it got its name?" "Many explanations exist on the subject, Professor Aronnax. Would you like to hear the views of one chronicler in the 14th century?" "Gladly." "This fanciful fellow claims the sea was given its name after the crossing of the Israelites, when the Pharaoh perished in those waves that came together again at Moses' command: To mark that miraculous sequel, the sea turned a red without equal. Thus no other course would do but to name it for its hue." "An artistic explanation, Captain Nemo," I replied, "but I'm unable to rest content with it. So I'll ask you for your own personal views." "Here they come. To my thinking, Professor Aronnax, this 'Red Sea' designation must be regarded as a translation of the Hebrew word 'Edrom,' and if the ancients gave it that name, it was because of the unique color of its waters." "Until now, however, I've seen only clear waves, without any unique hue." "Surely, but as we move ahead to the far end of this gulf, you'll note its odd appearance. I recall seeing the bay of El Tur completely red, like a lake of blood." "And you attribute this color to the presence of microscopic algae?" "Yes. It's a purplish, mucilaginous substance produced by those tiny buds known by the name trichodesmia, 40,000 of which are needed to occupy the space of one square millimeter. Perhaps you'll encounter them when we reach El Tur." "Hence, Captain Nemo, this isn't the first time you've gone through the Red Sea aboard the Nautilus?" "No, sir." "Then, since you've already mentioned the crossing of the Israelites and the catastrophe that befell the Egyptians, I would ask if you've ever discovered any traces under the waters of that great historic event?" "No, professor, and for an excellent reason." "What's that?" "It's because that same locality where Moses crossed with all his people is now so clogged with sand, camels can barely get their legs wet. You can understand that my Nautilus wouldn't have enough water for itself." "And that locality is . . . ?" I asked. "That locality lies a little above Suez in a sound that used to form a deep estuary when the Red Sea stretched as far as the Bitter Lakes. Now, whether or not their crossing was literally miraculous, the Israelites did cross there in returning to the Promised Land, and the Pharaoh's army did perish at precisely that locality. So I think that excavating those sands would bring to light a great many weapons and tools of Egyptian origin." "Obviously," I replied. "And for the sake of archaeology, let's hope that sooner or later such excavations do take place, once new towns are settled on the isthmus after the Suez Canal has been cut through-a canal, by the way, of little use to a ship such as the Nautilus!" "Surely, but of great use to the world at large," Captain Nemo said. "The ancients well understood the usefulness to commerce of connecting the Red Sea with the Mediterranean, but they never dreamed of cutting a canal between the two, and instead they picked the Nile as their link. If we can trust tradition, it was probably Egypt's King Sesostris who started digging the canal needed to join the Nile with the Red Sea. What's certain is that in 615 B.C. King Necho II was hard at work on a canal that was fed by Nile water and ran through the Egyptian plains opposite Arabia. This canal could be traveled in four days, and it was so wide, two triple-tiered galleys could pass through it abreast. Its construction was continued by Darius the Great, son of Hystaspes, and probably completed by King Ptolemy II. Strabo saw it used for shipping; but the weakness of its slope between its starting point, near Bubastis, and the Red Sea left it navigable only a few months out of the year. This canal served commerce until the century of Rome's Antonine emperors; it was then abandoned and covered with sand, subsequently reinstated by Arabia's Caliph Omar I, and finally filled in for good in 761 or 762 A.D. by Caliph Al-Mansur, in an effort to prevent supplies from reaching Mohammed ibn Abdullah, who had rebelled against him. During his Egyptian campaign, your General Napoleon Bonaparte discovered traces of this old canal in the Suez desert, and when the tide caught him by surprise, he wellnigh perished just a few hours before rejoining his regiment at Hadjaroth, the very place where Moses had pitched camp 3,300 years before him." "Well, captain, what the ancients hesitated to undertake, Mr. de Lesseps is now finishing up; his joining of these two seas will shorten the route from Cadiz to the East Indies by 9,000 kilometers, and he'll soon change Africa into an immense island." "Yes, Professor Aronnax, and you have every right to be proud of your fellow countryman. Such a man brings a nation more honor than the greatest commanders! Like so many others, he began with difficulties and setbacks, but he triumphed because he has the volunteer spirit. And it's sad to think that this deed, which should have been an international deed, which would have insured that any administration went down in history, will succeed only through the efforts of one man. So all hail to Mr. de Lesseps!" "Yes, all hail to that great French citizen," I replied, quite startled by how emphatically Captain Nemo had just spoken. "Unfortunately," he went on, "I can't take you through that Suez Canal, but the day after tomorrow, you'll be able to see the long jetties of Port Said when we're in the Mediterranean." "In the Mediterranean!" I exclaimed. "Yes, professor. Does that amaze you?" "What amazes me is thinking we'll be there the day after tomorrow." "Oh really?" "Yes, captain, although since I've been aboard your vessel, I should have formed the habit of not being amazed by anything!" "But what is it that startles you?" "The thought of how hideously fast the Nautilus will need to go, if it's to double the Cape of Good Hope, circle around Africa, and lie in the open Mediterranean by the day after tomorrow." "And who says it will circle Africa, professor? What's this talk about doubling the Cape of Good Hope?" "But unless the Nautilus navigates on dry land and crosses over the isthmus - " "Or under it, Professor Aronnax." "Under it?" "Surely," Captain Nemo replied serenely. "Under that tongue of land, nature long ago made what man today is making on its surface." "What! There's a passageway?" "Yes, an underground passageway that I've named the Arabian Tunnel. It starts below Suez and leads to the Bay of Pelusium." "But isn't that isthmus only composed of quicksand?" "To a certain depth. But at merely fifty meters, one encounters a firm foundation of rock." "And it's by luck that you discovered this passageway?" I asked, more and more startled. "Luck plus logic, professor, and logic even more than luck." "Captain, I hear you, but I can't believe my ears." "Oh, sir! The old saying still holds good: Aures habent et non audient!* Not only does this passageway exist, but I've taken advantage of it on several occasions. Without it, I wouldn't have ventured today into such a blind alley as the Red Sea." *Latin: "They have ears but hear not." Ed. "Is it indiscreet to ask how you discovered this tunnel?" "Sir," the captain answered me, "there can be no secrets between men who will never leave each other." I ignored this innuendo and waited for Captain Nemo's explanation. "Professor," he told me, "the simple logic of the naturalist led me to discover this passageway, and I alone am familiar with it. I'd noted that in the Red Sea and the Mediterranean there exist a number of absolutely identical species of fish: eels, butterfish, greenfish, bass, jewelfish, flying fish. Certain of this fact, I wondered if there weren't a connection between the two seas. If there were, its underground current had to go from the Red Sea to the Mediterranean simply because of their difference in level. So I caught a large number of fish in the vicinity of Suez. I slipped copper rings around their tails and tossed them back into the sea. A few months later off the coast of Syria, I recaptured a few specimens of my fish, adorned with their telltale rings. So this proved to me that some connection existed between the two seas. I searched for it with my Nautilus, I discovered it, I ventured into it; and soon, professor, you also will have cleared my Arabic tunnel!"