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Demephon, son of the fallen prince Theseus of Athens returns in Dark Tides, the next installment of The Chronicles of Atlantis series. โ—„ โ—„.

Demephon, son of the fallen prince Theseus of Athens returns in Dark Tides, the next installment of The Chronicles of Atlantis series. #!#.

Ep 145: The Civet Cat For Crown Prince - part 2 Recently we talked about Justice Bao. Today we will talk about a famous crime case in the royal family involved Justice Bao.

Demephon, son of the fallen prince Theseus of Athens returns in Dark Tides, the next installment of The Chronicles of Atlantis series. #..

Demephon, son of the fallen prince Theseus of Athens returns in Dark Tides, the next installment of The Chronicles of Atlantis series. ....

In Kamigami Battles you play as Gods of mythology competing for dominion over the realm. Recruit ancient Warriors and Disciples to fight in epic battles against the Gods trying to conquer your world!ย 

A minor figure in Sumerian mythology, Gugalanna, who may or may not be the Bull of Heaven, is primarily mentioned as being the ex-husband of Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld. To gain entrance, Inanna tells the gatekeepers she came to his funeral.

Tepฤ“yลllลtl ("Mountain Heart"), considered in some circumstances an aspect of Tezcatlipoca, was the Mexica god of earthquakes, echoes, jaguars, and the eighth hour of the night. Tezcatlipoca would sometimes be depicted wearing him as a cape.

Demephon, son of the fallen prince Theseus of Athens returns in Dark Tides, the next installment of The Chronicles of Atlantis series. โžคโžคโžค.

Demephon, son of the fallen prince Theseus of Athens returns in Dark Tides, the next installment of The Chronicles of Atlantis series. .-..

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Percy and Estelle’s fact

Percy is use to read some fairytales to Estelle when she is going to sleep. He really gets into the story so he makes the different voices of the characters. That’s provokes his sister’s laugh.

While this scene is taking place Paul and Sally are at the door, hugging each other and smiling.

The Banshee illustration by Arnold Lobel

A banshee is an undead woman from Irish folklore who wails in warning for one destined to die in days. Though there are an array of beliefs surrounding the idea of a keening spirit, it is typically believed that a banshee is a spirit of a woman howling to announce the death in a family, typically her own descendants. Banshees, though some can be horrifically malevolent, are typically not the dire cause of the death, but rather a bringer of the grim news. It is said that only the one who will pass will hear her cries days before their dreadful untimely death.

The banshee cry can come in many forms, and the banshee has a drove of appearances she can take on. Her keening can be shrill, a shriek shuddering your spine, chilling you to your bare bones. Her keening can be a haunting melody, a song of sadness comforting the soon-to-be dead; warm, welcoming them to the afterlife. She can look young, wan skin white and clear, or elderly, wrinkles mapping her eyes like roads. She can dress modestly in a snowy dress, or in a peculiar black shroud. Some form of banshee can also be headless, bare chest nude, a bowl of blood held in their spectral hands.

Though the banshee is a frightening spirit to behold - indeed, her ghostly hair standing on end startling, her wails a wonderfully nasty scare to your ears strained under her shattering shriek, fingers clasped around a bowl of crimson life - if you wander the moors of Ireland and chance upon a screech, find repose in her beastly bawls, for you may not have long left.


(via Markanthony Barrett on Instagram: “#Dungeonsanddragons #Dnd #Rpg #Tabletop #TabletopGaming #QuestIdeas #MagicalItems #CursedItems #Dungeonmaster #roleplay #roleplaying…”)

Back home now and I wasn’t feeling too great during my lunch break, so I was wasn’t able to read during my break at all. But instead I found ‘Half-Blood’ by Jennifer L. Armentrout and the rest of the books which I bought before I left as I was finished for the day. ’ve seen these books a lot when I was in high school and wanted to read them but never got a chance to, but I’ve read the first page of the first book. Let me tell you I’m already hooked as it’s like ‘Percy Jackson’ and ‘Vampire Academy’ mixed together, so I think this will help me out with how I’m feeling. :)

jeanie205  asked:

Rosy, that Lucifer parallel is right on. The villains/antagonists have always had purposeful names. As you say, Dante ruled over the circles of hell that was MW, ALIE was A Lie, the bunkerites slipped down the rabbit hole and were ruled over by the Red Queen, and now here comes Lightbourne/Lucifer. That CANNOT be unintentional. And I love it.


I didn’t catch the lightbourne/lucifer thing. That was a nonny, but it works, doesn’t it?


Graphite and digital, 2019.

Personal post: So after two and a half months of hiatus, I’m working again. It was an unplanned hiatus due to an awful episode in Feb. But after a few intermittent visits to the hospital and regular therapy, I’m slowly coming back to the drawing table. Luckily enough, Skam also helped me get out of the rut. It was just another manic obsession till I went through learning and relearning its lessons about coping with MI, empathy and caring for people. So, now here’s a new drawing for a commission. I’m also proud that I contacted my clients old and new and gave apologies and updates today. I know how art posts don’t do well here but idc I’m just happy to share that sometimes we need to acknowledge that things do get better somehow, some way.

The fundamental question isnโ€™t, โ€˜what is reality made of?โ€™, …the fundamental question is, โ€˜how do you act in the world?โ€™ Thatโ€™s a whole different way of thinking about the world. But I think, given that Iโ€™m a Darwinian, I think itโ€™s the fundamental question. You know, obviously, given what Iโ€™ve described to you so far, you canโ€™t fall in love too much with your current self. What if itโ€™s wrong? Then you should let that sucker die. Then you might think, well what part of you is it that doesnโ€™t die when your avatars die? Well thatโ€™s what Jung called the โ€˜Selfโ€™. Letโ€™s say you undergo a personality transformation. Thereโ€™s the old you, youโ€™re all naรฏve and something comes along and just wallops you, bang! Into the underworld, you fall apart. Then, bang! Thereโ€™s a new you. Maybe a little battle weary, but wiser. But then that one gets walloped out, bang! And into the underworld and up you come again. Fine, whatโ€™s constant across all of those transformations? Thatโ€™s the core element of the person. Thatโ€™s what Jung called the Self.

(via 𝕭𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖈 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖘 on Instagram: “The final instalment has arrived! Though precious metals, rare gems and magic items all have their uses, Devils hold only one thing truly…”)

Qalupalik: The Inuit Child Snatcher of the Deep

The Qallupilluk or Qallupilluit are marine creatures from Inuit mythology. They are often described as having scaly and bumpy skin, not unlike a sculpin. It is said that these are ugly creatures and that they reek of sulfur.

The Qallupilluk is a child-snatcher. No one really knows why these creatures love to take children. Perhaps they take children because they are lonely and like the company, or maybe they like how children taste? Or is there perhaps an even darker reason for the snatching?

Many stories of the Qallupilluk tell of them wearing either duck clothing with large pouches on their back to carry children in. The Qallupilluk hides in the ocean, waiting for children to play alone on the beach or near the breaking ice.

Usually, the Qallupilluk jump out of the water and grab children without any warning. Sometimes, however, you can hear them knocking under the ice. Some elders have said that if the ocean begins to become wavy in an area or steam begins to rise from the ocean, a Qallupilluk might be hiding underneath the water. The main signal of their approach, however, is a distinct humming sound.

One thing is certain, whether a Qallupilluk is hiding in the water or not, it is never safe to play alone on the beach or near the broken pans of sea ice.

The Qallupulluit is almost definitely a version of a water-dwelling bogeyman.

P.S. This creature was likely made up to scare children from playing alone at the coast and especially wandering on cracking and unstable sea ice.

The Underworld

    Nowadays, the Underworld starts at the escalators, but to get down you have to take the stairs.  The escalators are broken, marked off by grimey yellow plastic.  “Danger,” proclaim the strips of latex.

    “Under construction.”

    From the entrance to the Underworld, it seems to be empty.  “Perhaps,” you think, “This is my own personal train ride.  Last stop, my final destination.”

    Eventually, you will realise you are wrong.  It will take years, decades maybe, but eventually you will see the bones curled, as you are, into the grease-embedded concrete walls.  Together, you will listen to the vibrations of the train coming and going on the other side of the security desk.  Together, you will watch the procession of those lucky ghosts whose relatives tucked Hellenic gold coins into the folds of their chemical-clogged suits or, more often, of those who died with their Metro cards still in their pockets.

    Finally, you too will pass through the turnstiles.

    Maybe someone will trip, sending their coins to the irregularly darkened tiles.  Or perhaps, upon seeing your wide, hungry eyes and your dirt-stained cheeks, someone from a larger city than you will lean back from the other side of the turnstile with an empty mouth that might be a smile, offering their own Metro card.

    There is no photo ID at the gates to death.

    Once you are past the turnstiles, you see the train.  And you are not sure how you had never noticed before, but the train is stationary.  The Styx line to nowhere.  A moment later you will wonder how you ever could’ve thought such a thing, for this is faster than you had ever moved in your life.  There is nothing mortals race towards with more speed or intensity than death.

    From the front of the car, the conductor watches you.  He is silent, and you swear his empty eye sockets are staring straight into you.

    Part way through the ride, a little girl raises her hand.  She is sitting alone, and you can see part of her skull through her long red hair.

    “Are we almost there?”

    He turns his skull to look at her.  Where before his sockets harboured only an open dark, now you swear you can see fire in them.

    He does not answer her.

    The train is silent again.