• Mundus: Scared?
  • Dante: Actually, years of trauma and literally fighting for my life against the most powerful evil forces of all time have pretty much burnt out my adrenaline responses to situations like this and left me without the ability to feel normal reactions and emotions.
  • Mundus: What?
  • Dante: You wish.
Latin time

Guys, since I have an idea in my mind, I’m searching for a certain picture (I’ll find it XD), and in the meanwhile, I found this page from ch. 73:

I have noticed only now that Sebastian is reading a Latin poem here. So, I curiously searched for it (also because I studied Latin at high school. Yes, in Italy we still study Latin XD). Well, this excerpt: “ Sunt aliquid Manes: letum non omnia finit, luridaque euictos effugit umbra rogos. Cynthia namque meo uisa est incumbere fulcro, murmur ad extremae nuper humata uiae” is the part that Sebastian read (sorry but I can’t help myself imagining Ono-san reading this XDD)… anyway, this is from Propertius’ “Elegiae”, a collections of love poems, mostly dedicated to Cynthia. This is the seventh elegia from the fourth book, in which the woman is dead, she appears in a dream and re-assures her beloved that their love is everlasting, even in the Underworld. Now, apart from the love side, the part that is interesting is the first one of the sentence: “Sunt aliquid Manes: letum non omnia finit, luridaque euictos effugit umbra rogos”. I don’t know how many of you know Latin, so I hope you would like to help me, but translation is like: “There is something in the spirits of dead people: not everything ends with death: a livid shadow won, escaped the fire”. Now, “rogos” is technically the pyre, and it can be intended like the ritual of burning the corpses, but considering that Yana-san always puts hints and foreshadowings in un, this sentence looked so interesting from the 2CT point of view. The first part seems a reference to the Bizarre Dolls (not everything ends with death), but the second part (a livid shadow won, escaped the fire)… well, what if this is a hint of real!Ciel’s fate? :3 @abybweisse, @midnight-in-town (sweetheart, do you want to know a thing? XD The first word I read was “Manes” and I thought of the mundus manes in Kushiel’s Scion XD) , @thedarkestcrow,  @akumadeenglish 
What do you think?

The Aurbis, the universe of The Elder Scrolls can be separated into five distinct layers:

  1. Nirn, the heart of the Aurbis, is the planet in which Tamriel is a continent of. 
  2. Mundus is the mortal plane that contains Nirn and the planets of the eight Aedra. 
  3. Oblivion is the space outside Mundus, and is home to the 16 Daedric Princes and myriad other pocket realms including the Soul Cairn.
  4. Aetherius, the immortal plane. It is where the et’ada, the original spirits who later became the Aedra and Daedra came from. Magicka radiates from the stars and the sun to Nirn.
  5. The Void is literal nothingness and emptyness outside the Aurbis.

anonymous asked:

I was reading a contemporary review of The Lord of the Rings when I discovered mention of a series called "Biography of the Life of Manuel", which according to Wikipedia, had posters made of the fictional setting's map at the height of it's popularity in the 20s. Heard of it before? Anything worth digging into?

Their star has certainly dimmed somewhat over the decades, but the Poictesme books by James Branch Cabell are absolutely worth reading! The first and best book, Figures of the Earth, is in the public domain, and I recommend you check it out. 

Here’s a trivia question: who were the two most popular and influential fantasy and genre writers of the early 20th Century? 

If you answered some combination of Tolkien, Lovecraft, or Robert E. Howard, you’re wrong. They were not well known in their own time and were only rediscovered decades later (Tolkien and Lovecraft by the 60s counterculture, and Howard by the paperback boom, mostly thanks to the instantly iconic Frazetta covers). The two most famous and influential writers of what today we’d call fantasy, at the time, were James Branch Cabell and Abraham Merritt, two writers that, today, are mostly forgotten. 

I am going to talk about Abraham Merritt a little later when I do another “Dead Fandoms” bit, but James Branch Cabell is interesting because he was basically an Umberto Eco type, in that, like works like Eco’s Baudolino, he set it in a fantastical version of the past where you’re not sure where history ends and the fantasy begins. And like Umberto Eco, and like Vonnegut too, because he’s literary and good, people don’t often think of Cabell as a genre writer, one of the many little hypocritical double standards that keep scifi and fantasy in a ghetto. He reminds me a lot of my favorite fantasy novel, which does a lot of the same things, Tim Powers’ On Stranger Tides.

The first great book in the series, Figures of the Earth, was the story of Manuel, an unchivalrous cowherd in the fictional southern French region of Poictesme who rises up to become Count in humorous and often anti-heroic ways; it often feels like a Don Quixote type wiseass deconstruction of knight and fairy stories. Manuel is a gloomy, cynical guy who doesn’t enjoy the high station he achieved, who’s worldview is reflected in his coat of arms,  Mundus vult decipi, or  “The world wants to be deceived, so let it be deceived.”

Why is it that Cabell no longer occupies the position of THE fantasy author? Partly, it’s that his work relies on humor, and what counts as funny changes very quickly. Also, historically, guys in ghettoized genres that are widely read and critically acclaimed in genre writing don’t have lasting popularity; just take a look at scifi’s Philip Wyle, author of When Worlds Collide and Gladiator, who was influential in his own day and widely read even by normies, but who, today isn’t as important as the pure genre guys who put-putted along in the pulps like Asimov and Clarke before bursting out. 

Rather, I’d say the reason we don’t read Poictesme as much as we used to, is that the most important moment in the entire history of the genre we call fantasy was when the counterculture of the 1960s, the hippies, started to pay attention to it, and this caused a realignment as to what works were “central” to the genre (Tolkien, who was good but ignored, was in, and Cabell and Merritt were out). One of the most important books of the 20th Century was The Morning of the Magicians, printed in 1963, which not only created the “New Age Movement” as we know it today, and is patient zero for every single occult and paranormal oddity we see in the culture today. 

In Morning of the Magicians, the authors specifically mention a writer who was then mostly forgotten, but who appealed to their sense of unreality and cosmic oddity: H.P. Lovecraft. (Strictly speaking, Lovecraft isn’t a fantasy author by today’s standards, but this is typical of the genre fluidity that existed in early fantasy; the strictly non-supernatural Gormenghast books were once considered fantasy, too). It absolutely makes a difference that one of the most important and widely read works of the 20th Century brought up Tolkien and Lovecraft, and they embodied more of what that generation wanted to see in fantasy, like a sense of loss and love of the natural world, a hostility to modernism, etc. Cabell’s gloomy Tim Burton-goes-to-Oz books were less important. That re-alignment of the fantasy genre’s core works was downright seismic, and it’s shaped what we’ve been dealing with ever since. 


metatheatrical language in shakespeare beyond references to players, stages, groundlings, or theater itself

  • the roof of the globe, called the heavens, is thought to have been decorated with astrological symbols, hence the name; the self-consciously artificial language of caesar and hamlet when they describe the sky as “painted” or as a “canopy” or “roof” would then be a direct reference to the “heavens” above them. in the theatrical cosmos, hell was represented by the area beneath the stage. these names give a special significance to whether characters or music emerge from above or below.
  • theater was closely associated with bear-baiting, both for location – consigned to the same part of london, and often taking place in either the same or nearly identical buildings – and subject – critics of the theater or of bear-baiting might both tell you that it’s a gory, immoral, and cruel bloodsport. characters in dangerous situations frequently compare themselves to the bear encircled by hounds; what’s implied is the presence of an audience deriving some enjoyment from the spectacle. in this sense, macbeth’s “bear-like, I must fight the course” is just as metatheatrical as his reference to the “poor player / who struts and frets his hour upon the stage.” stake, course, baited, and bayed, not to mention the obvious bear, are all bear-baiting vocabulary that you might see in shakespeare.  
  • elizabethan and jacobean theaters often advertised themselves with flags that visually indicated their names. the globe’s flag bore an image of hercules carrying the earth (along with the famous motto “totus mundus agit histrionem” which you could generously translate as “all the world’s a stage”). hercules was also known by the name alcides. the references typically don’t go much beyond winking acknowledgement, but rosencrantz’s remark about “hercules and his load too” appears in a dialogue about a rival playing company and explicitly refers to the globe theatre, and antony’s reversal of fortunes is signified by music from beneath the stage – that’s hell, remember – and hercules’s departure; in other words, the entire globe turning against him. 

The existence of lasagna in the elder scrolls lore facilitates the presence of a garfield-like figure, a being whose appetite cannot be sated and whose decree is simply “I hate mundus”