#desecrated reign

[katnip475]

Desecrated Reign by Shauna Mairéad

This book was AMAZING! I don’t know where to begin! How do I explain just how great this story is without spoilers?? I couldn’t put the book down. I was immediately pulled in and swept off my feet with the evolution that was Rohan. I fell even more in love with him. Saoirse’s development was also captivating. Finally accepting and becoming who she truly is.

Shauna’s writing was fantastic. She knew exactly how to bring out all the feels! Had me tearing up reading the prologue with full on tears and runny nose on the first page of the chapter 1! She had me crying throughout the book. As well as had me on the edge of my seat. She beautifully wrapped up this series. Well done Shauna!

[hensunrik]

mutually destructive unhealthy possessive ships are so...ooough oh my god

oh to be consumed alive by that incessant need blazing agonizingly through their veins the sheer hunger to cut each other up and crawl inside the crevices of each other's body, hopelessly and seamlessly entwining every fibre of their souls until one can no longer tell their beginnings and ends apart

the need to flood and fill up every nook every cranny and fissure driving everything else out until there is no longer even the hint of space left for anyone but each other

to carve one's essence into another's bones, indelible until the winds erode the earth, to drink each other's lifeblood until that thrum of vitality echoes in the innermost hollows of the other's soul, to no longer desire to breathe air unless directly out of each other's lungs, to voraciously feast upon each other's visage, them and only them inasmuch as any other eyes that dare cast their gaze upon either of them shall be gouged out, tongues that pluck up the courage to sing sweet songs of praise will find it turn to ash as they choke and thrash and drown in their own blood, hands that audaciously reach out will find themselves mercilessly severed and ground into dust

(until the wounds they leave on each other scab and scar with a permanence etched on their molecular structure so that it is no longer possible for one to exist without the other)

i'm thinking of people so pathologically frenzied fixated and obsessed the only acceptable death is the one to come by each other's hand. the once sweetness fermenting into a drug so addictive yet so poisonous accompanying them in the next life cycle and then the next, each becoming in turn an ember and a ghost burning feverishly through mist and shadow in hopeless orbit, always watching, always ravenously looking and drinking in, helpless to resist the siren call of falling into each other's path.

to consume and destroy that which you love with your own hands as the ultimate act of devotion.

a vow once spoken like the most tender of caresses in the quiet spaces where gentleness feels indistinguishable from cruelty, now an eternal haunting and companion of torment and ruination trailing the frayed tatters of a bond stubbornly persevering through oblivion and fire and brimstone, to the ends of the world itself,

to collide, to devour, to subsume, to fester, a virulent regrowth

and the cycle starts anew

[medusas-daughter]

Hugh Hammer who will claim Vermithor, currently the second largest dragon after Vaghar, sees dragons as meat thanks to Crispin Cole and Aemond.

The people who only respected the Targaryens' reign because of their dragons, now see dragons as meat thanks to Crispin Cole and Aemond.

And yet Crispin has the audacity to believe he's securing a Targaryen king's reign. He's actively destroying it. And the extinction of dragons can be blamed on this one instant of Meleys' corpse being desecrated and disrespected so publicly. When the people of Kingslanding storm the dragon pit and kill all surviving dragons, this will be the moment that gave them the courage to do it. All because Cole and Aemond see dragons as objects to own and use and not as companions to respect and cherish.

If I didn't hate Crispin before (and I did) I now loathe him

[whencyclopedia]

Deir el-Medina

Deir el-Medina is the modern Arabic name for the worker's village (now an archaeological site) which was home to the artisans and craftsmen of Thebes who built and decorated the royal tombs in the nearby Valley of the Kings and Valley of the Queens.

The ancient inhabitants called the village Pa Demi (“the village”) but it was referred to in official correspondence as Set-Ma'at (“The Place of Truth”) because the workers there were thought to be inspired by the gods in creating the eternal homes of the deceased kings and their families. Early in the Christian era the village, then deserted, was occupied by monks who took over the Temple of Hathor for use as a cloister. The temple was referred to as Deir el-Medina (“Monastery of the Town”) and this name finally came to be applied to the entire site.

Unlike most villages in ancient Egypt, which grew up organically from small settlements, Deir el-Medina was a planned community. It was founded by Amenhotep I (c.1541-1520 BCE) specifically to house workers on royal tombs because tomb desecration and robbery had become a serious concern by his time. It was decided that the royalty of Egypt would no longer advertise their final resting places with large monuments but, instead, would be buried in a less accessible area in tombs cut into the cliff walls. These areas would become the necropolises now known as the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens and those who lived in the village were known as “Servants in the Place of Truth” for their important role in creating eternal homes and also remaining discreet regarding tomb contents and location.

Deir el-Medina is among the most important archaeological sites in Egypt because of the wealth of information it provides on the daily life of the people who lived there. Serious excavation at the site was begun in 1905 CE by the Italian archaeologist Ernesto Schiaparelli and furthered by a number of others throughout the 20th century CE with some of the most extensive work done by French archaeologist Bernard Bruyere between 1922-1940 CE. At the same time Howard Carter was bringing the treasures of the royalty to light from Tutankhamun's tomb, Bruyere was uncovering the lives of the working people who would have created that final resting place.

History of the Village

The earliest extant ruins at the site are from the reign of Thutmose I (1520-1492 BCE), son and successor of Amenhotep I, but there is no doubt that it was Amenhotep I who first planned the site. He and his mother, Ahmose-Nefertari, were worshipped as protective gods at the site throughout its history. The workers also venerated the cobra goddess Meretseger (whose name means “She Who Loves Silence”), the personification of the Theban necropolis and protector of the dead and, especially, of their tombs.

By the time of the New Kingdom (c.1570-c.1069 BCE) tomb robbing had become almost epidemic in scope. Although measures such as false doors and labyrinths had been a part of tomb building since the Old Kingdom (c.2613-2181 BCE) they were not effective in keeping robbers from reaching the burial chamber and the vast treasures left there with the deceased. One gains an understanding of exactly how great the wealth in these tombs was when one considers the treasures of Tutankhamun's tomb discovered by Howard Carter in 1922 CE. Tutankhamun died before he was 20 years old and had not yet amassed the kind of wealth a king like Djoser (c.2670 BCE) or Khufu (2589-2566 BCE) would have had entombed for the afterlife.

The Valley of the Kings was selected as the new necropolis for royalty and the village was planned for easy access (a half hour's walk) from a worker's home to the tombs. The village was in continuous use from the time of Thutmose I until the collapse of the New Kingdom in c. 1069 BCE. Although the community and nearby necropolises were planned to safeguard the tombs of the kings, human greed and opportunity would eventually work to undermine the plan and some of the workers themselves would turn to robbing the tombs they had helped build and protect for an easy and quite substantial payoff. For most of its history, however, the village seems to have functioned as it was intended.

Continue reading...

[sepublic]

            I’ve already brought up how the loss of glyphs is deeply tragic for Luz on an interpersonal level, given her relationship with the Titan as being kinda found family in a spiritual successor to Manny sorta way…

            But on a larger, cultural level? It’s straight-up genocide. Because glyphs were an ancient practice; They were a tradition at one point, as Eda explains. The earliest witches used to learn glyphs from the Titan on her knee, and eventually stopped when that became redundant with the more convenient source of their bile sacs.

            But it was still an important part of their history; It was how witches and demons first communicated and interacted with the land and nature, and their ‘god’ in a mutualistic way. It was how they respected their world.

            So even if glyphs were evidently forgotten by the Deadwardian Era, they were still available for those who needed them… And in comes fucking Philip, the racist colonizer, and because of his possession of the Titan’s heart, she finally dies and glyphs can no longer work. They’re obsolete now.

            They still happened, but now that part of magic, of history and this world, is gone forever. It’s cultural erasure, it’s what Luz alludes to when she mentions how scars from Belos’ reign still remain, like the left arm being permanently shifted upwards; Who knows how many were displaced, how much the local flora and fauna and ecosystems were devastated, with the desert of Palm Stings now colder than even the knee itself?!?

            It’s just so deeply painful because Luz really helped to bring back an ancient, lost tradition and unlike Philip, breathed new life into it; Glyphs could be used to help people without bile sacs, who didn’t utilize spell circles as well. We actually saw Luz experiment with using individual glyphs, and figure out the combos; Things she did on her own. She shared knowledge of glyphs with her loved ones, like Eda, King, Lilith, Gus, Amity, etc.

            There really was going to be a return of something lost, but now it’s gone forever because of a bigoted old white man who was too bitter about things that are different and needed to feel big and important by standing on the shoulders of others. It’s cultural genocide. That memory where Belos' destructive lies about wild magic drive witches away from the knee that they still had the potential to learn from, leaving behind only ruins in the present-day? With some murdered via the coven sigils that cut them even further off from their own magic they forgot glyphs for? It's truly symbolic of the final nails in the coffin.

            And it’s also desecration of the dead, too; Caleb is not the only one to have had his corpse bastardized by Belos, misused against everything he stood for. Belos also misused that corpse, first by stealing the Titan’s name, then misusing her magic, her resources such as Palistrom wood… And finally possessing that body literally, which is what murders the Titan. It’s like colonizers bastardizing and salting the land that locals carefully maintained a proper relationship with, and keep in mind this fucker is a literal Puritan colonist. There’s no respect, not for the dead and/or past. Compare that to Luz, who lives on in Manny’s memory and makes him proud.

            I’m just imagining Caleb and the Titan watching, in agony, as their bodies are used to create a vicious mockery towards their actual kin, who remain totally unaware, and in the case of the Grimwalkers, it’s another lineage that is also abused. Meanwhile the Clawthornes remain unknowing of their past because colonialism erases history, hence Belos hiring Flora, and hell even getting Lilith to participate in her own historical erasure, as both Clawthorne and witch!

            Meanwhile, King remains oblivious and unconnected to his own heritage. And most of that can also be attributed to the Titan Trappers and Archivists, themselves perpretrators of genocide. So King and Eda go without knowing their heritage for so long, in Eda’s case she may never find out entirely, because it’s part of the many voices who are lost and silenced due to genocide, buried in the past to be forgotten.

            And you know one thing more that fucks me up? It’s that I genuinely suspect that Philip initially had it easier with glyphs than Luz, and that he made them more difficult for her. Because based on his dialogue by finding the Ice glyph in a snowflake, and his diary and memory portraits showing him arriving in the isles via Eclipse Lake, at the Knee…

            Philip was probably shown his first spell on his first day in the Demon Realm. And it makes sense; The first human, the precedent that the Titan would’ve known by this point, was Caleb; Himself Philip’s brother, who was also raised to be a witch hunter, yet learned better. We know people can view both worlds from that in-between realm, but the Titan still isn’t omnipotent and can only watch through a limited number of cubes at a time, while having to know what and who to look for.

            But even so; With Caleb’s precedent, there could’ve been hope that Philip would follow in his footsteps, that he would learn and be more, and actually choose to be better instead of defaulting to Puritan predestination and the like as an excuse to stay the same and absolve him of responsiability. But we know what happened; Philip started off easy, but then made things difficult by rejecting the Titan’s compassion, by misusing her magic for evil and murder and genocide. The Titan showed Philip compassion first and this was how he responded.

            I really feel as if there’s an implicit reluctance with how Luz is taught glyphs, one at a time, in separate scenarios, usually as a result of character development and/or engaging with the world around her, which are things the Titan would really need to see to start trusting another human again (and if he knew Luz gave Philip the last glyph, that would also add to the wariness that Belos caused by manipulating her). Luz didn’t learn her first spell until a few days into her journey, and Luz had already had a few perilous encounters by that point! But she continued to brave her way through everything, continued to accept the isles and its messier side.

            And so the Titan showed Luz her first spell, and only that, in response to Luz needing it, wanting to learn magic, and most of all humbling herself to be kind to the Titan’s own son, and listen to him; Because neglecting King was what low-key led to Eda’s transformation placing everyone in danger, since he only told Luz about the elixir and agreed to steal it for the sake of getting her attention.

            So that makes Luz listening to the Titan for the first time, intentionally, with her second spell –Ice, Philip’s first- so much more hard-hitting. The way she wanted to live out her dream so she went for the wand behind people’s backs, but then recognized and owned up to her mistakes. And she really was just a lonely kid in need of guidance, and not a stubborn adult committed to his cruelty; Luz always had an open mind! She always wanted to learn!

            And she got to! She learned each glyph at a time… And that’s all the Titan could do for her, something the Titan had already done for so many others, long ago, before they realized they had bile sacs and didn’t need to rely on the land around them as much. Luz still experimented even when she just had one glyph; She understood how intent mattered. She and Lilith built off of each other’s knowledge to collaborate and create combos. Meanwhile Belos, he agonized because he made things pointlessly difficult by refusing to adapt to the ways of another land, and only got his first and last glyphs by taking the compassion of someone who knew them and betraying it.

            Plus there’s what I said about Lilith, her whole thing as Caleb’s descendant, directly abused by Belos and belittled by him, made to participate in her own erasure loss of past, separated from that… Really, one could argue the Clawthornes are like the Boiling Isles equivalent to the Irish; Yeah they're white but that doesn't mean they aren't victims of British colonialism that sought to 'conquer the land' and all that.

The Clawthornes are generally known for big orange hair, with Lilith's curly hair being straightened and dyed dark-blue in an attempt to assimilate within the Emperor's Coven's (AKA Philip's) standards of conformity. They worked with the land via the Palistrom carving and began to lose that because of the trees being endangered by Belos' gluttony, as well as the curse disabling Dell; The very curse created by the Archivists, who also invaded this world, the very curse cast by Lilith because the coven system influenced her to feel shame over wild magic and embrace hierarchy instead.

The curse leads to Eda's loss of bile magic, something very important to her and witches in general, and Lilith loses her own trying to mitigate her own mistakes. So not just glyphs are taken from witches, but even their own bile magic they initially replaced them with, and the other resources of the land. And Lilith is cut off from her family, her real family, as she's taken in by an ancestor who has deliberately distanced himself and loathes her on multiple levels as something to be 'fixed'.

But Lilith gets her hair back and re-embraces it, she gets her family back. She still manages to somewhat retain her past; After all, Lilith gets to go to the Deadwardian Era herself! And she meets, as much as it loathes anyone to acknowledge it, an ancestor, and influences history in a subtle yet personally meaningful way. And Lilith helps re-establish contact with the lost practice of glyphs by figuring out how to combine them, which goes hand in hand with her passion of being a historian, and her additional function as both parallel and especially foil to Philip.

             Just… Luz and the Titan. And Caleb. And Lilith. There’s dead people and there’s history and there’s land, there’s bodies and respect. There’s compassion and actually working with people and finding no shame in that, instead of stealing and taking credit. And in the end, even though they manage to regain some things, a lot was still inevitably lost to genocide, and possibly gone forever.

            But the effects and legacy still linger, Luz still remembers and holds dear what the glyphs did; And she honors not just Manny’s legacy, but Caleb’s, by bridging the gap between humanity and witches, and showing both can co-exist in harmony. She helped his descendants, and even the last Grimwalker, find happiness and reconnect with their heritage, even if they don’t know just how close it is to them in particular. Luz honored the Titan by clearing his name, finding his son, and ensuring the last of the Titans is no longer alone and in understanding of his heritage. Luz even made amends with the Titan’s other greatest regret, harming the Collector, by making peace; And she proved glyphs were still useful, they were still kind, and that compassion wasn’t wasted.

            So even if the Titan’s glyphs are gone now, Luz still honored their memory by sharing them freely and helping, teaching, cultivating. The Clawthornes are rebuilding the Palistrom forests, among them is Hunter who as a Grimwalker was one of the purposes for which Belos devastated those natural resources for. And King… King is beginning to develop his own glyphs! And Luz is learning her first one, Light, from a Titan all over again, because she showed King kindness.

            That honors the Titan’s memory by keeping it alive through her son; Who keeps the memory of glyphs alive through the ones he’ll sustain and share with everyone else, and those glyphs will spread to those without and even with bile sacs. And a lost art is brought back, irreversibly different but still intact in the important ways. People are relearning old practices to apply to a new world, because the past is gone but it still lingers and is simply… reborn. Despite the scars and changes it survives and is still itself.

            And with how all of this loops back to Luz’s relationship with her father Manny, who passed away, and how all that was based on Dana’s own relationship with her deceased father, who left her a final gift in Pokemon Red that she chose to cherish to this day, and embrace her own creativity and keep it alive. It’s a story about things dying but still managing to live anyway.

[butwhatifidothis]

Talking from a fe3h discourse perspective I get hating Rhea, as a Rhea lover. To a lesser extent I GUESS I get Seteth. But Flayn??????? She's just vibing and eating fish??? She has NOTHING to do with Rhea's decisions? Like at that point you're (not you op, general you) just looking for issues. To be clear if you hate her because of her personality or whatever sure, to each their own. But hating her because "church bad" feels really stupid to me. That's like a rhea/church fan hating the black eagles on principal because they're part of edelgard's house or because they don't hate edelgard.

When you realize they ascribe to this kind of mentality

it starts to make a lot more sense. Yeah, if two members of a race being bad if enough for you to ascribe malice and evil to every single member of said race, it's pretty easy to also say that the very blood of that race is evil and having it course through your veins makes you evil.

Which they've been saying for a while now!

Yes, you are in fact seeing a ~year-and-a-half old screenshot of them saying the exact same racist garbage they're saying now.

Also, just. This fucker keeps repeating this stupid fucking point about Nemesis and frankly it pisses me off.

Two years. From as early as two days ago (as of July 11th 2024) to as far back as two fucking years, they've been repeating "Nemesis couldn't have been THAT BAD you guys, because the people he's been tyrannically ruling over for over a century and who didn't know the full extent of his actions which include the genocide he committed believed in the lie about him being a liberator! A supposed liberator of a group of people these oppressed ignorant civilians would have had literally no contact with whatsoever given Nemesis has been ruling for over a century! Meaning any human alive during the actual reign of the Nabateans would have been fucking dead by the time Nemesis was killed, meaning any alive during Nemesis' reign had no way of knowing how that rule actually was! This lie was so imprinted into the people's conscious that Rhea couldn't erase it, so it has to be true and not a lie anymore!"

Literally saying that Nemesis was right to do what he did because he said he was and the people who had no choice but to believe him believed he was. Like I said, they are so fucking desperate to defend this genocider and to degrade the Nabateans as an entire race to be biologically inclined towards evil, and have been desperate to do this for years.

Here are a couple more choice words Shandale has said!

"He didn't genocide them because he WANTED to, he did it because he HAD to! If he didn't, anyone he brought with him to genocide the Nabateans would have been killed!"

Oh, but silly me! What I am talking about?

It wasn't a genocide! It was getting rid of oppressor and conquerors! Those oppressors and conquerors, you know, just so happening to be the entirety of the Nabatean race.

Which, hm! Guess what nonnie!

Explicitly includes Flayn! Someone who literally never did anything to anyone! Oh, except be willing to kill followers... who are a direct threat to others and are desecrating her mother's grave. Oh, but who cares about silly little nitpicks like that, she's willing to kill her followers!! ...Oh wait, there's only reference to Cichol in that paralogue? Cethleann isn't even mentioned once anywhere in the paralogue? Like literally anywhere? Bah! Who cares! Flayn is evil, just like all the other Nabateans! Let's """"""""joke"""""""" about killing her over and over and over and over and over again!

Teehee isn't it so funny guys! They're killing Flayn, haha, soooo funny! Ignore how they think Flayn's race in its entirety needs to be killed and how they lie about what Flayn's done to paint her as evil, they're just jokingly killing Flayn and joking about how fun they find the idea of killing this member of a race they clearly hate over and over keekeekee!!! This race isn't real guys you're not allowed to find this disturbing plus they're just joking anyway hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

(there's actually more of these "jokes". Like way more of them. Just, lettin' everybody know)

And, oh, wow!

This includes Indech and Macuil! Nabateans who cut off all contact with humanity after they had helped kill the genocider of their race. Macuil isn't even in Fodlan anymore, he's in the middle of a Sreng desert, but, nope! They helped kill Nemesis, meaning they are also completely evil :)

Funny how every single Nabatean who stood up against the human who killed them all is deemed irrevocably evil no matter what, but the human Agarthans are just poor little victims who deserved more nuance and sympathy even after they literally murder children. But we're the mean ones for pointing all of this out as bad tho

[potionwine]

Thinking about Margrace as Joshua's name post-Phoenix Gate.

Mar-grace.

In FFXVI the Undying choose their own names (Cyril explains this in-game), and many of them have names drawn from Final Fantasy XII, including their leader 'Margrace' himself, from Al-Cid Margrace. The page for Al-Cid notes that Margrace is likely an alternate form of the title 'margrave', an old title for military commanders on the border.

That aside. This is the name chosen (by the boy himself?) for the boy who should have rightfully been known henceforth as 'Your Grace', 'His Grace'.

Grace (style of address), from the Oxford English Dictionary:

With a possessive adjective: a title of respect, esp. for a person of royal or noble rank. Frequently (in 'your Grace') as a form of address. Now archaic or historical. Formerly (in England until the reign of Henry VIII and in Scotland until 1707) used for a monarch or prince; now replaced by Majesty or Highness. Even so, "Majesty" for the sovereign of England was not used exclusively; it arbitrarily alternated with both "Highness" and "Grace", even in official documents, until "Majesty" finally became the official style to the exclusion of others (source).

Grace (other meanings):

1. Divine favour, benevolence, or providence bringing about worldly benefit or advantage. 2. A person's lot, destiny, or fate; luck, fortune. 3. The quality of being pleasing; attractiveness, charm; esp. (in later use) refined elegance of manner, expression, form, or movement, esp. regarded as natural or effortless; gracefulness.

Whatever the etymology of margrave, the name Margrace in-game is probably meant to call to mind the meaning of 'mar' as in damaged, spoiled, ruined. All the grace that ever belonged to his family, his home, his birthright—marred, of course.

Mar+Grace, the last heir of the oldest unbroken ruling dynasty in the Twins at the time of the opening events of the game**.

The living ghost, carrying the desecrated corpse of his legacy in his new name. Introducing himself by his humiliation: "Hello, I am Margrace", "Hello, I am the ruined dignity of my house." "Call me Margrace", "Call me the wreckage of one fallen from divine favour." "My name is Margrace", "My name is blemished fortunes and diminished nobility".

It's appropriately brutal and dramatic for such a character, especially since the game is frustratingly silent on how Joshua personally feels about the loss of his duchy which is a rant for next time.

**Footnotes:

In the Year 860 (Prologue year/Phoenix Gate), Rosaria is about 260 years old (est. Y600). Older, if you count from the time of the Rose Alliance (est. Y550). The Rosfields have been on the Rosarian throne since the inception of the duchy in Y600, and prior to that House Rosfield was already known to be the chief of/the preeminent house of the Seven High Houses that united to found the duchy. House Rosfield has held ruling power for 260-310 years at a minimum.

For reference, England's longest-reigning dynasty was the Plantagenets, who held on for 300+ years. Rosfields aren't doing half bad!

Veldemarke would have been older had it not been overthrown by Barnabas; therefore Waloed is the youngest nation state at the time of the prologue (only 17 years old). Also we do not know much about the governance of Veldemarke, although as a 'kingdom' it was likely some type of monarchy.

Sanbreque was formed 100 years after Rosaria, and at any rate is not actually a hereditary monarchy. The Holy Emperor is voted into office by his fellow Cardinals, likely the five who form the Council of Elders. We are also explicitly told that Sylvestre 'won his throne' in 865; there is no indication either way that his predecessor emperor was a Lesage. The wording suggests the throne is not Sylvestre's by lineage or birthright. How this is supposed to relate to the concept of Sanbreque having a 'crown prince' (Dion) is unclear and contradictory, since an emperor by election should probably not have the authority to unilaterally decide on the succession of the throne, and his issue—legitimate or no—should not automatically be in the line of succession.

Dhalmekia is a republic with elected officials.

The Iron Kingdom apparently has a royal family, but nothing else is known apart from it being impotent and sidelined by their state religion.

The Northern Tribes likely do have hereditary rule, and Jill is referred to as a princess, but once again little is known.

Ergo—and I am ceaseless in this propaganda—Clive and Joshua are really, properly posh! Absolutely baffling that Anabella would allow anyone to put down the pedigree of her sons when they are so blue-blooded precisely because she is! For someone with such entrenched ideas of blood purity she should not stand for it, no matter how she feels about her eldest.

[sculptorofcrimson]

Dance Macabre Pt 1

Traitor!Valdor AU Synopsis: The cycle begins again. And the one shard he spared. The one shard, in all his millenia, that he did not kill. Relations: You'll see ψ(｀∇´)ψ

She was the one and the only. The error in the code, the flaw in the machine, the exception to the rule. She was the shard that lived, the one and the only to be spared from the bite of his blade.

She was nothing exceptional in many instances. Slight above average psychic ability. A little above average of the Emperor's essence. Average intellect, strength, emotional response. Absolutely nothing at all. And yet she lived. She was the one, and the only, in all ten thousand years that the Traitor Captain reigned for his terrible, tyrannical rule before he was finally brought down and he ended the same way his master had ended: with golden ichor. Master and slave, Emperor and bodyguard, victim and assassin, let them be intertwined in death. Let him love Him, if only in death.

For all the years he had spent as a traitor, she was the only one who felt his wrath, and lived.

It was not love, the twisted thing they had. It was not even lust. He did not lust. He could not lust. He quite literally could not know desire. The one thing he had once cherished, worshiped, reveled in was dead, and He had torn out the machine that had been a heart when he betrayed Him. He had cast him down, through the gold and through the brume. His talons in his breastplate, His scorn upon His tongue, His hatred blazing in golden eyes as He speared Valdor through upon His claws and cast him down. That final, snipping cut, severing the bond between master and slave in a single, terrible instant upon the Vengeful Spirit.

It was no longer love. He loved Him, and He did not care.

He loved Him. He hated Him. He loved Him. He loathed Him. Around and around with the pendulum, desperate, broken, singing. The call of a mind stripped of all its gifts. Such a broken, piteous sight.

And so he hated His bones. His shards. His remnants. He did not know hate, his master had torn it out of him in so many regards, but he loathed them. He regarded them with no more kindness than if they had been Horus himself, as if they had been the ones to have poisoned him and given him the broken gift of being able to feel all he had lost. Of being just human enough to hate, to thrash and to weep against his chains, but without the true power to care, to know what he lost. Doomed to forever wander for a city he could not name and did not know, groping around blindly in the dark for something he lacked, but could not remember. 

He loathed them. 

He cursed their name the same way he cursed Horus. Horus, for his treachery. Horus, for his gift. Horus, for the way he had so gallantly smiled and welcomed Constantin with open arms when he had lowered the walls of the Palace, when he had broken the Siege of Terra alone and greeted Horus' hordes with gaping gates and scrambling defenses. Horus, for bringing him the truth.

Look at them. Despicable things. Wearing the face of his master as if it was a mask. He could not loathe Him directly, He had taken that away, but he could loathe them. He could loathe them for being Him but not being Him enough, he could loathe them for looking like Him, breathing like Him, living like Him once upon a time, he could hate them for carrying what should have been his. It was like looking upon the corpse of the sun, feeling its dying warmth screaming across the void but knowing it was held in the palm of a worthless mortal. A mortal. Nothing at all, when compared to him.

His master left His bones to the gentry instead of His servant. There was no greater insult than to see Him again, alive, living through their useless bodies, when He had died for their countless, dreary lives and they had lived. They lived for Him, they lived in His place, they're living and desecrating His corpse which should have so righteously remained dead. Let the galaxy burn, let it burn itself to ashes and consume itself under the weight of its voracious hatred, let the mortals stumble and fall and lead themselves to a piteous doom, he would have gladly let them all burn if only he could see Him again. If only to feel the warmth of His love, even if he had to torch Him alive to feel it.

He died ten thousand years ago. And in His place, they wear His corpse.

He sees His face imprinted upon theirs, he sees His bones, rotten and crumbling, stretched over their fragile bodies. He sees His essence, trapped inside, cradled in flesh and bone and it was his duty to tear it free. It was his duty to punish such blatant disrespect of His legacy, his righteous crusade to set Him free and return His soul where it belonged: in the palm of His favored servant. Let them all burn, he reasoned, let them all burn if only he could ignite his lord one last time.

When they fell into his claws, nothing awaited his master's bones but destruction. 

It would have been impulsive for the normally heartless captain, if it had been any but his master. It would have been cruel, it would have been horrifying, it would have been treachery and blasphemy and heresy. But it was also justice. Justice, at least for him. Justice as he watches them scream, sob and wither away, as he watches their fragile bodies break down from starvation and dehydration, dying as their bodies struggle from the poisons pumping through their bloodstream, drowning in their own blood. How he replicates His wounds one by one, first the tendons, then the muscles, then the eye, and then the corpse itself. The Apollonian Spear, carefully, with infinite precision, carving tiny cuts upon them, bleeding them out drop by drop, tasting his lord's memories with each slice. Listening to Him screaming as he sets his boot down upon a fragile, mortal chest, hearing Him roar out in indignity and in betrayal as he presses down and hears the shard's ribs crack and then crumble beneath his weight, as their chest finally gives out beneath the endless pain. And feeling Him die, once more, blood dripping like ichor over the Apollonian Blade, finally preserved in the last tomb He would ever know: the very spear of his servant. Home again at last, as He deserves to be. 

He will kill them all. It was spoken in his vows. 

There is no respite for a shard in the Yellow King's arms. There is only oblivion. He will never spare them, never love them, never hold even a candle of adoration for his former master. To those that dare desecrate His corpse, there is only death, and a slow, horrifying drowning, lost limb by limb to uncaring treachery. He always kills them, as soon as the Aquilan Shields are scattered, their shields shattered and their spears cast aside. His brothers are nothing compared to him. They always die, in hours, or in days if the Aquilan Shields are resourceful, if they're willing to sacrifice themselves for the shard. They rarely succeed, of course. He is Constantin Valdor, and he is the Emperor's greatest assassin, and he will tear His soul shred by shred from the mortal corpses He wears.

When he has them, they always die.

She alone was the exception.

In all ten thousand years, she was the only one who has faced his wrath, lost by the Aquilans, and lived.

She was an Inquisitor of the Ordos Malleus. She had been the one hunting him, the King in Yellow, until the day he caught up to her, and tore her ship open in the middle of the Warp. The Aquilan Shields had come soon before, they had told her what she had to know, and in the Inquisitor's arrogant, off-handed way, she had dismissed them. She had dismissed the fear she saw in their eyes, dismissed it the same way she had dismissed her concerns and plunged into her hunt.

She still remembered that day, the golden devil clad in the raiments of his lost brothers, his cloak a ragged, dead thing hanging over his shoulders, glorious and golden and horrifying as he gutted the ship apart hunting for her. The fear in Ashavar's eyes, visible even through his helm. The way they danced, blade over blade, spear against spear. Valdor fought in his peerless, immaculate style, but now with vicious abandon, the mark of a soul that had nothing left to lose. They had prepared for this. They had prepared a thousand contigencies for this day, yet none of them would serve them at all. Ashavar clashed against him, forcing all his strength into a strike that made even Valdor stall. He punched him in that gap, without fitness and without grace, without any of the training Valdor had enforced upon him. He smashed one of the jewels on Valdor's armor, ducking under Valdor's riposte and dancing around the edge of the Apollonian Spearblade before Valdor stabbed him in the gut. 

There was utterly no honor at all. 

Valdor struck him three more times with the misericordia, Apollonian Spearblade briefly forgotten. He smashed his fist against the side of the Aquilan's helm when he had stumbled, pinning him to the bulkhead with one hand and bashing him against it for good measure. Casting him aside as if he weighed no more than a guardsman, Valdor had turned around to face her. And the Inquisitor had not fled. Gazing up into those blank eyes without even a hint of fear, she raised her own vox and spoke a single, terrible command. Her lips were trembling from nerves. But her eyes were calm, and dead, and utterly triumphant 

‘Ship command. This is your Inquisitor speaking. Activate the Cyclonic Torpedoes we're carrying. Activate all of them.' 

That was her secret. She had been willing to kill both herself and him even before she had set out upon this journey,  before she had met the Aquilan Shields. The captain goes down with her ship.

That brief, brutal moment of deathly cunning flashing through red eyelenses. The moment of revelation, spreading like ink through water. The way she had smiled, vicious, cruel, and victorious.

The Inquisitor had smiled mildly at him, and gave a nod in the direction of the engines. His eyes had tracked that movement, just for an instant, flickering between her and her command box.

'We'll die together, Constantin.'

She was still triumphantly holding her command box when Ashavar pounced.

He crashed onto not Valdor, but onto her. He had wrapped her up beneath his bulk, covering her entirely with his body. She could smell his incense, feel the cold hum of his auramite and feel the bruises forming from where he had smashed into her. He crushes her with all his weight, covering her, wrapping around her. She couldn't breathe but still she tried to scream. If not for herself, then for him. She couldn't see, Ashavar's purple cloak had obstructed her face, but she could feel him. The first misericordia blow shattered his auramite. The second broke through his spine. She could feel him convulse, spasming at least a dozen times beneath the blows. Valdor was so fast, so unspeakably fast, and vicious in his frenzy to get to her. To claw her out and tear out the Emperor's last breaths from her broken corpse. Ashavar groaned above her, and she could hear that voice, so commonly kind, so gentle, now raised in agony. A scraping sound. Ashavar spasmed. A siren was blaring somewhere from lower down on the ship. Then nothing. Ashavar's blood was clouding her eyes. His cloak was soaked with it. His slumped form, once so gigantic, briefly dwarfed by Valdor's looming shadow, now emptying itself of life. 

He had thrown himself over her, and Valdor had cut him to pieces.

'I'll see you again, my master.' It was a curse, as much as a promise.

The traitor Captain had left. Fled, like the coward he was, out of fear or rather "pragmatism", when he realized he would not have time to cut through his brother's corpse and escape the burning supernova of the ship. Fled to kill another day.

She remembers the Aquilans, their panicked voices, their spears and their axes. The way their Shield-Captain had bundled her up in his cloak and frantically tried to wipe the blood from her hair. Two Custodes carrying Ashavar through the winding corridors, ducking beneath the panicked crew. The Shield-Captain's voice, soft and mournful and still trying to be gentle, carrying her wounded form away from the fire. Away from the blood and that terrible, bloodstained cloak, whisking her away before the ship could implode beneath its own baggage of fire.

It was not the first time they would meet. And it was not the first time she would know, with cruel certainty, that he hated her. He hated her, as he hated all shards, and if he had the chance, he would have undoubtedly flayed them all alive, just for another sip of his master's love.

He loved his master. And he hated His shards.

~~~

They had scolded her after that stunt. The Aquilans had scolded her, their red eyelenses masking their fear. Fear for her, fear of him, fear of her and the lengths she was willing to go. They insisted on accompanying her on her walks, on tracking every moment of her health, and standing over her during her meals. It was infuriating. (Then again, she couldn't blame them. Her great-great-great-great ancestral grandmother had apparently been exiled after a much-similar failed coup. That stunt had garnered her much worse than just a few days of annoyance from Aquilan Shields being too overprotective of their charge).

She knew she was dead long before she had set foot upon Daedalus Lied, she had known she was a dead girl walking before she had even baptized her own ship after a long dead genius. The Inquisitor knew that she had been waiting for death since her love had last perished beneath the flames of a heretical cult she had failed to root out, she knew that not even her love of humanity(the Emperor's or hers now?) would have been enough to stop that tide of ink-laden despair that had threatened to pull her down since that terrible night. She had loved them, yes, she had loved this world, with every last of its worthless, tiny, miniscule lives, loved each of them to a vague, beautiful detail, but it was not enough, not enough to overcome her selfish wish for death. To be eternal, and endless, and be with her love in the lightlessness. 

She was nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an Inquisitor with a dead psyker-assassin as a lover, a dead love she couldn't even stop from self-destructing from the waves of the warp. Nothing but an Inquisitor with a deathwish and the dying gasps of her beloved, and the heart of the Emperor beating within her. She was alone, so utterly alone even with six Aquilans watching over her, and perhaps that was why he spared her.

All those other shards. Mortal. Joyous, mischievous, alive, young in a way she could never be young, frivolous and dainty and pretty. He had killed them all. Those who were cruel, a king clad in gold and crimson, a budding emperor with a tyrannical fist, those he would occasionally spare, just to gaze upon Him for a few moments longer. Inevitably, they would extinguish, snuffed out once more in this incarnation. They always died, she knew, she knew even as she relived the moments of the many girls he had slaughtered. Their eyes, reflected in his cold, unfeeling auramite, their screams, echoing through the corridors of the past and into eternity. So small, so fragile, and so utterly dead beneath his gaze.

He met them again, in the span of months after her recovery but before the Aquilan Shields could truly let go of their fear. They still hung about her, wandering meaninglessly, fussing over her every beck and call. Months had passed. Her investigation, slow and grueling, had led her, with stealth and trickery, to the heart of the storm. To the traitor Captain's own lair. Maulland. The dead world where a fallen prince had once lived in exile.

He met her, face to face, in the gaping emptiness between the dead earth of Maulland's primary moon, the grey and white of the snow sailing over her uniform. The moon itself had no name, although its inhabitants had taken to calling it the Priest-King, out of some last kind of spite for the exiled captain that had once lived upon the world. He had lived here, peacefully, in silence, in contemplation and in grief, until his hate brought him out to hunt. Until his loathing for his master's corpse and his master's throne drew him out, and he rampaged.

They had stood, immobile, and for a while she heard nothing but the empty howl of the storm.

'You are here to die.' Valdor said at last. There was no tone of inflection in his voice, no sign of regret. Only flat, cold victory. She had returned his words with a smile, and a nod.

'And you are here to slay me.'

The traitor captain had smiled then. It was a cold, insane smile, the smile of a large starving cat finally having a fresh meal. He will kill her and carve her apart, of that the Inquisitor had no doubt. So be it. She was, as always, ready to die.

He hated her, she knew. He hated all shards. Good. She hated him too. She expected to die.

'Of course.' he gestures in a curt bow, similar to the bows he had demonstrated countless times to his master when they were King and Servant. 'I did not think you were quite as arrogant as you may have your entourage believe. Where are your bodyguards, Inquisitor? Where are your troops? Have they abandoned you tonight?'

'They're preparing to slay you, I presume.' she chuckled darkly. She doubted if any had advanced as far as she, to the point of striking out against the very heart of his traitor kingdom. It was not his throne, but it was his heart, the King in Yellow's long years of ruminations and exile baked into the very snows of the planet. She wondered if he would suffer, maybe crack a little inside, if she declared Exterminatus upon the world and its inhabitants. She wondered if he would mourn. Certainly not mourning for the planet's residents, or even for himself, but for all the years and memories he had spent, and lost, there.

Valdor had tilted his head. 'Ah. You have questions.' So coldly monotone as ever, so pleasant, even when he lowered the blade. She wondered if he had been so kind upon Ararat.

She had advanced then, moving towards him without fear. She could sense the Aquilan Shields' anxiety through her headpiece, hearing their auramite sevros crackle, feeling them tense in anticipation. Lehievin drew in a sharp breath. The Shield-Captain was ready in position, waiting to snap the jaws of the trap closed, waiting only for her word. She did not give it.

'You know what we are here for. Your crimes. Your sins. Your treachery, captain-general.' she met his gaze, and did not let him drop it. 'The slaughter of your own brothers. High treason to the Throne. Rebellion against the Emperor. The sabotage of loyal Imperium defenders. The destruction of the Palace. Consorting with the dark gods. By the authority of my office, by the word of the Inquisition and Ordos Malleus, and by the power vested in me by His words, you are forfeit of this city. You will be taken to Holy Terra and tried in fair and open court. Your fate will be determined by your brothers, and by Lord Guiliman himself. May the Emperor have mercy on your wretched soul, captain-general."

Her words seemed to amuse him, in some broken, forgotten way. 'I see,' he said at last. 'And what makes you think I will obey your fickle office, when I have, by your own words, rebelled against the Emperor Himself?'

Her lips twisted into a thin smile. Harshly, she laughed, brutal and barking and laughing against the wind. He simply crossed his arms over the shaft of the Apollonian Spear and listened to her. 

'Because you know, Constantin.' she finally growled out. 'You know you can't win, not against six Aquilan Shields with teleporter beacons and a direct line to Terra's reinforcements. That's why I'm not going to lie down and wait for you to kill me, like all those other shards you've captured, Constantin. You hate them. You see them and you kill them on sight. Sometimes, the best outcome is for them to escape your grasp, hide away, rot the rest of their lives in oblivion, and never be found again. Cause when you capture one, you torture every drop of life from them, and make sure they're just as dead as Him when you're done. How truly pathetic of you, Constantin.'

Nothing, not even a shift of his posture.

'But do you want to know why I'm here, captain-general? Do you truly want to know?'

'Yes.'

'I am your executioner, Constantin. You have simply lived too long. Your execution is tonight, even if mine is too. We'll die together, Constantin. Me, the shard you called your master the last time, and you, the servant. There will be no shards after me, and I suppose none before me either.' None that could have harmed him and unsettled him. 

Thunder lashed in the distance. The storm whipped at him, driving jagged spikes of lightning over his auramte-clad features. The Apollonian Spear, always activated, grumbled in the dark. Its ornate carvings were encrusted with old blood, the blade gleaming dully in the gloom. 

'You are going to watch your bodyguards die, my master. Their blood will be on your conscience.'

She snorted.

'I am not your master, Constantin. And conscience? You dare speak of conscience? Merely look at what you've become, and dare to utter the word conscience? Go on, preach to me of conscience and loyalty, traitor. It was not I who betrayed His throne.'

For a long moment, he said nothing. For a moment he seemed to nearly recoil, as if this encounter had suddenly gone too far from his plans. 

'Surrender, captain-general.' she insisted. 'Kneel, and you will be dragged to Terra in golden chains. Refuse, and your corpse will be dragged to the Emperor in rags.'

'You are a fool if you think I can know fear, Inquisitor.'

'This is not about fear. This is about surrender. You cannot make a stand here.' There was not a trace of desperation in her voice now, but a trace of anger. Lehievin shifts from beneath his cloak, guardian spear in hand. Ophiel and Ashavar's names were engraved upon his breastplate. Two new names, to remember them. He no longer was thinking about the deeds that had earned them, merely the Custodes that had been sacrificed. His brothers. They were his brothers, and Valdor cut them to pieces. 'This is arrogance, captain-general. Madness. You, alone? You cannot face us. You have no armies. No weapons. No defenses. No allies. You have nothing left but yourself, standing here now.' Serenely, almost as if to comfort him, she smiled. 'And that's not enough. Surrender. Surrender, simply, and I'll treat you well. I'll be the only shard that will.'

Because, in some deeper, ancient portion, He loathed him too. He loathed him back, and His shards had always felt this hate. The sense of shattered loyalty and vengeance against the traitor captain.

For a moment, just enough for Lehievin to draw in three breaths, Valdor seemed to listen. If not precisely even think of accepting her offer, then to at least resign himself. For a moment, he looked almost like the broken thing he was, yielding to treachery because he knew no way out. The mind of someone without even a right to dream, and now having no other way but to scream soundlessly for eternity, crying its tears out for someone that did not know how to weep.

Had Valdor wept when the Emperor died? She found, with no great surprise, that she did not care. 

'You will die braver than most, Inquisitor.' he finally said. The Apollonian Spear, already kindled, guttered to life. Its aura, now streaked with red instead of blue, crackled against the vengeful storm. 'You remind me of a High Lord, so long ago in the past. I suppose you do not remember. That is alright. But for life to move onwards, the secret does not lie in the future, but in the past. Humanity's future is dead, Inquisitor. It is as dead as my master, rotting upon His throne. His past, however, is alive. It is what drives your fickle race, it is what keeps them alive, sloughing along just for one more day. You are nothing but His dreams from the past, still imprinting themselves on the present. None of you shards have a future, and none of you will have a past.' 

She watches the Apollonian Spear swing with some kind of daze. He moves towards her then, not aggressively, but the display of power was still blatantly naked. Something was moving in the snow and the storm, something was roaring that was not thunder. It was something dragged out of the past and torn from its grave, mangled memories tearing through a life that could not remember it. It was the growling of an ancient, dying beast roused from its slumber, uncoordinated and savage and so mindlessly hateful that they would have followed this crazed captain like a prophet.

'We have no future, you and I. Which is why I am telling you this now, so you may heed it, one last time, before your endless life extinguishes itself again, my Emperor. Rejoice, my lord.' 

Lehievin could wait no longer. He gave the signal to strike, even as their charge seemed to be frozen, hypnotized before Valdor as he steadily advanced towards her. Three Aquilans closed in upon him from the side, their guardian spears gleaming as they rose like  vengeful revenants from the grave and threw off the disguise fields ripping around them, teleporters furiously blazing as reinforcing Custodes descended upon the traitor captain. Lehievin pushed himself, shrugging past his lieutenant, auramite sevroes grinding as he sprinted, already-superhuman capabilities strained to the limit as he charged. He had to reach her before he did. He had to reach her before Valdor did....

The Apollonian Spear was hefted into its killing position.

In the heart of the storm and its wrath, where the rock was as black as oil and the thunder as hateful as storms, red-tinged helmets blazed from bronze armor, and began to advance. 

Somewhere, in the distance, was an eerily familiar, ragged laugh.

'Rejoice, my dear Emperor, and gaze upon the corpses you've betrayed. You are present once more at their very first engagement.'

As Lehievin finally closed the distance, and his spear scraped against the spine-jarring thrust of Valdor's killing strike, the thunder descended to earth.

[ladylilithprime]

Day 15: Sigils

(Inspired by Somebody Else's Thanksgiving by @posingasme .)

WHEN THE CALL came in from Castiel to meet him at an old abandoned property, Dean almost went alone. With the way he and Sam had seemed to be working weirdly at cross-purposes despite supposedly being on the same page, it was only Castiel's sharp insistence that had him calling for Sam to join him. The way Sam looked at him, like he knew Dean had wanted to leave him behind and was simultaneously resentful and resigned to it made guilt churn in Dean's gut harshly. He shoved it down and waited impatiently for Sam to slide into the Impala's passenger seat before gunning the engine and driving them out to the old shack.

There were two bodies outside, the ground blackened with the shadows of huge wings seared into the ground. Sam made a sound in his throat like a keen that was partway to gagging, and took off for the shack at a run, leaving Dean to curse and follow.

"Cas!" Sam shouted as he flung the door open. "Castiel!"

"I'm here, Sam," the now-familiar gravelly voice answered. The angel stood motionless inside a circle of fire just inside the main room, the walls of the shack painted with bloody sigils, many of which Dean recognized from Bobby's panic room. "Don't break the sigils or the circle of holy fire. It's the only thing keeping them from being able to summon me."

"Who?" Dean demanded, when Sam only swallowed and nodded. "Summon you where?"

"Back to Heaven," came the disquieting answer. "The Archangels don't want you learning what I have to tell you."

"The bodies outside...." Sam started, then stopped, shuddering.

"Angels," Castiel confirmed gravely. "Sent to bring me in. I regret killing them, but I could not let them prevent me from speaking to you. Dean, Sam... Heaven wants the Apocalypse to happen."

"Oh, no," Sam whispered, barely audible around the roaring in Dean's ears.

He wasn't nearly so restrained.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted. "What, so all that running around and saving Seals, was that actually just moving everything along faster?!"

"More an attempt at misdirection and manipulation," Castiel said, shattering Dean's world further. "Only the First and Final Seals are immutable, and with six hundred and sixty-six Seals, only sixty-six of which actually needing to be broken, the Archangels felt it best to direct you to try and save a handful of simple Seals so that you would miss the demons and other angels breaking others elsewhere. The First Seal, you already know. The Final Seal is the death of the First Demon in a desecrated convent in Ilchester."

"The death of the First Demon meaning Lilith," Sam whispered in horror. "Oh, God... Lilith would've led us a merry chase until letting us catch up just in time to kill her and break the Seal...."

"Let you catch up, Sam," Castiel corrected with surprising gentleness. "Two brothers, two immutable Seals... two prophecied Vessels for the Apocalypse. While you would have been led to Lilith, Dean would have been sequestered away to await the appointed time to agree to be Michael's Vessel--"

"Leaving me alone and in position to be taken as Lucifer's after Lilith tricked me into letting him out," Sam finished woodenly.

"Like hell're those dickless asshats getting anywhere near me, or Sammy!" Dean growled, finding his voice and trying not to feel that stab of guilt at the surprise that crossed Sam's face at his vehemence. "So how do we derail things?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted, spreading his hands in supplication when Dean glared at him. "Truly, I don't. Angels are created to serve and follow orders, and free thought and feeling is considered an aberration. Even with these defects, I am not suited to creative thinking the way humans are. The best idea I could think of was to give you two all the information and hope you could think of an option I couldn't."

Silence reigned for a long moment as Dean processed that while Sam stared off into the distant space between molecules or whatever it was he was looking at when he did that. The only sound besides his and Sam's breathing was the low roar of the ring of fire that was apparently important enough to Castiel to have burning that he would say not to distupt it even though it looked like he could barely move.

"What happens if they can't take us?" Sam asked after a long moment. "Michael and Lucifer. They're Archangels, and Lucifer is Fallen, but they're still angels. They have to get our permission first. So what happens if we say no?"

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "That is not something anyone in Heaven or Hell believes will happen, as neither will care overly much how they gain your consent so long as they do gain it. I suspect that Michael might become impatient enough to raise your half-brother Adam for the purpose as an imperfect back-up, but you have no such half-siblings by your mother for Lucifer to take."

"So it's just me that needs to be taken out of play," Sam murmured, sending a chill down Dean's spine.

"Sammy," he said warningly.

"You know it's true, Dean," Sam said, sounding so fucking young and weary all at once. "Michael's got a back-up if he can't force you to agree, but I'm Lucifer's only option. If we can take me out before Lilith is ready to make her move--"

"Then the Archangels would simply resurrect you after wiping this conversation from your memory," Castiel broke in sharply. "Sam, I implore you, do not be so quick to give up your life on a slim hope!"

"What he said," Dean huffed grudgingly. "I went to Hell once to keep you alive, little brother, don't think I won't do it again!"

"Don't think I'll let you," Sam snapped back. "And I'm not talking about me dying. Not exactly. But I may have an idea. I just don't know how much Castiel is gonna like it, and I know you aren't gonna like it. At least I know I'll be able to stomach the taste."

"I don't have to like it if it keeps you alive and out of the Devil's clutches," Dean said, staring his brother down. "I learned a long time ago that the only order of Dad's I can't follow is to let you die. Ever. So lay it on me."

"It's risky," Sam warned. "And kinda crazy."

"Crazy's kinda what we do these days," Dean pointed out with a sweeping gesture towards the sigil-marked walls, trapped angel, and the entire damn Apocalypse mess beyond.

"Okay, then," Sam nodded slowly. "Do you still have Lenore's number?"

[g0g0at]

Malevolent part 47

Oooh let’s go

What is that sound???

Thank you for the exact hours Yorick, I’ll be putting that to good use

Oh one of those medieval prison things.

A gibbot? Joyous name mmm

Are we about to get a sick fic esc episode?

Arthur talking about the air again… he’s been doing that a lot this season…

John shaking Arthur “REST GODDAMNIT!!

Bro straight up has the plague

“If Arthur says he’s fine, he’s fine” NO THAT IS NOT TRUE FOR HIM

John is being so understanding

John pep talk

“He was just a man” he also SUCKED

Arthur you’re not a bad person for this my guy

Probably would be dead otherwise ngl

“I don’t have an answer that will make you feel better”

John is already human

I mean you can try but the plague is contagious

“You know what the right path forward is” I mean mostly

“Thanks you keeping us alive” part 2

Hehe John bragging a little

Oh witches hand?

Welp. Time to desecrate a corpse

ARTHUR SHOULD NOT CLIMB HIGH PLACES!! NOT WITH HIS FALLING OFF OF THINGD HISTORY!!

Yorick you’re being sneaky…

Why did I know he was gonna say eye?

Eye gouging time again 😔

Hand of Malevolen(t)ce

“I am in no rush” ok Yorick thanks

Is he seriously climbing this

Couldn’t he tip it?

The laughing cough BAHAHHA

“There are no wrong answers in brain storming” sounds like my highschool teachers

Shame he doesn’t have an axe

How are you gonna get the pin? Shake it?

John has had enough of being dead named

Haha! Rocks!

How good is your aim?

Hey he hit it! John sounds so proud

Wii Golf

Alexander heyo

Alexander please don’t eat the eyes

ALEXANDER STOP THAT!

“I scared him away 😞 “

Is Alexander actively against Yorick?

Bro is calling himself a nerd 💀

For someone “not good at athletics” he’s good and running a such

“You wanted to fit in” HEY HEY HEY

“If they could see me now” *throws rocks at a corpse*

WHAT WAS THAT

Was that John tapping the cage to guide him? That’s a new trick

Mist creature

Oh no split decision

And another hole!

RIGHT NOW?!! WHY NOW?!!

YORICK PRIORITIES PLEASE

Oh dear

This is not good

Arthur you are “folding” again

Black candle?

Dark magic…

Oh dear dark world shit

What is happening

Did it get rid of the creature?

Oh the vanguard and yorick are seperate?

Hmmm

Interesting…

Hey he called him John

Yorick lore

I thought the antithesis was gonna be “the hand of god” ngl

Oh that’s actually useful af

Haha it was the owl!

Lilith? Sent by Kayne maybe?

Oh ok nvm

Arthur is just getting chased by every second outer god oml

Shape shifters…

Maybe Arthur needed to die for whatever reason

Who is she…

Limited uses AUGHHHHH

SCRATCH

Is John hearing those whispers?

Oh dear

Ok ok so. Alexander is or works for Scratch. But if Arthur is her “favourite”. Then…

Mmmm maybe Arthur NEEDED to die and come back, for some reason

Oooh this episode has so much lore

Can you bluff a god like that??

Maybe don’t confront her…

Double lie

I mean you guys are both ok at lying

Arthur is struggling

Oooh ok it’s starting to make sense

So you only gotta worry about her if she’s nearby that’s some benefit

John and Yorick bonding moment?

John saying he’s projecting and that he thought Yorick was a mistake… does that mean… does that mean John thinks that he’s also a mistake?

“Purely for appearances” yeah ok

Very poetic, my friend

Looks like we’re ramping up to the final season(s)

“We’ll stare it down” well… John will

Yeah play it up! Arthur’s acting skills have improved since the train

John is getting excited too BAHHAHA

How close are you guys to the castle?

Oh they’ve all be cut down hmmmm

Mmmm storm environment

King Louis?

Was there an 8th Louis?

So we’re in a different timeline

That’s a LONG reign

King John hehhe

France and England become one country??

Oooooh world building

AYE CASTLE!!

Eeee I’m excited

Hopefully it’s not full of dead people like in Carcosa

“I know far too much, you will need to be more specific”

That’s a big question

He needs some cough drops

He sounds like he’s gonna pass out kinda

King in Yellow has some French influence, this’ll be interesting

Oh my god he needs some soup and cough drops

Yorick sounded kinda concerned for him there dang

Yeah probably better to rest in the castle than the rain

Cows might be difficult to fake

That cough sounds real (if Harlan recorded this while sick I guess it would be)

Gold ring, good choice

Lovely description from John

Oh is this castle fucked up

Good lord that is a horrid cough

Everart… that sounds familiar… oh that’s a disco elysium character

Oh my god he literally sounds like he’s dying

“Not the way you taught me”

He is mixed up HE HAS THE PLAGUE

“Lean on me” I thought he meant literally for a second ngl and was like “well good luck with that”

Let John handle it for a bit

Castle time!!!

Oh the sound design….

Is Yorick in the bag??? Doesn’t matter if he’s quiet if they can SEE HIM

Oh this sound design is AWESOME

Don’t get stabbed…

Oh WHAT

Of course the castle is fucked up why am I surprised

How does he eat? Does he? Fucked up castle

This imagery is nice

Maaaaaaaaan maybe this castle was a bad choice

AH CARCOSA MENTION

All righty castle time!!

Mmmm I’m nervous tho ngl

Oooh can’t wait for next week!! The castle!!

[infernal-feminae]

@grimowled said: “you were born for this life, my dear.”

as was he, but he needn't say it out loud. they both knew the harsh reality of being born into the ars goetia - it's eat or be eaten, marry or be married. yet for all of her unbecoming screeching and thunderously furious temper tantrums, stella had not broken a single rule, at least on the surface, and as far as the unforgiving goetian framework was concerned; he'd been the one to desecrate their marriage with distastefully overt adultery. he was the one who, for all intents and purposes, was to blame.

(he would have felt sorry for her, if it hadn't been so exhilaratingly liberating.)

but perhaps some might even infer that it was stella who hadn't been a good enough wife to the prince, who had not been able to keep his attentions from straying to low class hellborns.

(how utterly, disgracefullyscandalous. no wonder she loathed him, when her own reputation had been smeared so!)

so his words probably rang as hollow as his comfortless tone. truly, the old system was frustratingly unfair, as unkind to her as she'd been to her husband. she could not win, not with the odds stacked against her, not under the ball and chains of a dutiful wife. // for stella ! :>

"Are you mocking me...?" Stella accuses in a low hiss. To her credit, she was attempting to reign in her anger but her cold fury can still be felt.

Her hatred for him blinded all rationality and reason. It might be hard to believe, but there was a time when didn't possess such loathing towards him. They had been children then, but over the course of time, her anger, bitterness, and resentment grew it all but consumed her.

"Don't 'my dear' me. I know you never cared. You never wanted this marriage just as much as I didn't! But what you failed to realize is that we don't always get what we FUCKING want!" Deeps breaths, a small voice reminded her. Remember your breathing exercises. In and out. In and out....

Stella sighed, gradually calming herself down with each deep breath. "...Though I suppose there was one good thing that came out of our failure of a marriage--Octavia."

[acquired-stardust]

Game Spotlight #3: Digimon World (1999)

Today is a special day and as such it is is only fitting that today marks the first Acquired Stardust Game Spotlight brought to you by me, Larsa. What makes today special? Well that’s because it’s August 1st, better known to many fans around the world as "Odaiba Memorial" or more simply "Odaiba Day", a day which marks the 24th anniversary of the chosen children, the “Digidestined”, who first made their way into the digital world. No matter when you became a fan of Digimon this date holds a deep meaning to all of us in the Digimon fandom for being the day that the original chosen children started their journey. 

                                                  “ ! “

This is a universal day we in the fandom celebrate the world over and it is an eventful day like this that puts on full display how caring the Digimon fanbase is of the series. Whether you can visit the man made island of Odaiba in person on this day or you are browsing through your social media apps embracing the meme this is our day fellow "Digi-fans".  Digimon is the franchise that kick-started my imagination and truly meant the most to me growing up as a child back in 1999 when "Digimon Adventure" first aired on Fox in North America. It is no exaggeration to say years in my childhood that Digimon was very much my life. It was what I most often thought about when I would daydream at school, or soccer practice. I would even find the spare time as a child to desecrate an innocent sheet of paper with my personal crudely drawn original Digimon. ( We all did this am I right? )   As a way to make me happy with my childhood obsession the first home console game that my older brothers bought me was Digimon World for the original Playstation. The game blew my mind with how large it felt at the time and as a result was what largely consumed my summer vacation that year. I happily say that this game has been an absolute adventure to revisit to this day~!

                                “ This was innovative at the time! “

Digimon, shorthand for " Digital Monsters ", started as a virtual pet toy created by WiZ and Bandai in the year 1997 as the more "masculine" companion to big sister toyline " Tamagotchi ". These new Digital Monsters weren't just adorable pets wanting for you to take care of them they were born fighters and you the player would tame these creatures from birth to battle other players of the game through connecting devices. It turns out many children did become tamers because the Digimon v-pet toy was an instant hit selling many toys right away. Immediately after the launch of the original toy-line it was clear that Bandai was very confident that they could shape Digimon into a successful multimedia franchise. The Digimon toyline was quickly followed up with a more expanded toyline, magazines, manga, trading card game, and several video game projects - the first notable home console video game release being "Digital Monster Ver. S" for the Sega Saturn in Japan.  The first globally released Digimon video game would be "Digimon World" for the Playstation console and this game was developed alongside it's own sequel "Digimon World 2" in an ambitious project by Bandai to ensure in their minds global domination. 

“ Digimon World “ was originally was released on January 28th in the year 1999 in Japan to a successful launch.  The following year it would be first released in May to North America(NTSC) and shortly afterward in July to European(PAL) regions. Both of these version would both go onto be big selling hits on the console earning the Playstation's "Greatest Hits" label in North America and likewise "Platinum" status in Europe because quite frankly Digimon was that big of a deal already. By the year 2000, it was clear outside of Japan that Digimon would not just go down as another another contender to Pokemon’s reign. The Digimon series had become a champion in it's own right establishing itself as a rival even for Pokemon at the time. Digimon World was the first Digimon video game most of the world experienced. So the question is after all this time how does the game hold up 24 years later? Was it worth the hype in a crowded platform like the Playstation?

                      “ Sidenote: They were pushing the original Digimon TCG  “     

                                  “Welcome to The Digital World “

 The Digital World is a vast and mysterious place that exists both within our world and outside of it. You insert the Digimon World disc then go through the Playstation start up sequence where you are greeted by that haunting yet relaxing boot up sound of the console. After a brief load time you are shown in wonderfully aged FMV from a typical afternoon of the year 1999 in Japan complete with children battling virtually through the Digimon V-Pet toys. Before long the battle between the two players go from toy to imagination in our main character's head, daydreaming of the fight between two Ultimate level Digimon: the proud MetalMamemon and the imposing MetalGreymon. After the cut-scene you hit start to officially start your own journey to the digital world albeit an unintentional one for our avatar as they are forcefully whisked away into the Digital World itself through their own V-Pet toy.

                                      “ MetalMamemon wants to fight! “

Once the scene finishes playing then you are confronted by Jijimon, an elderly wise Digimon who asks the players some background questions which determine your starter Digimon. You see depending on the answers you gave Jijimon you will receive Agumon or Gabumon as a companion both Digimon whose potential take different shapes. After being introduced to your partner you are then given reason for why you were brought here to the Digital World: it turns out maybe you really do just love Digimon so much that it made you a chosen child yourself? At any rate you the player are tasked by Jijimon with the serious task of rebuilding " File City ", a village where Digimon used to live in peace with one another until recent times where the formerly peace loving Digimon fled the city after having forgotten their own past. As you guide each new Digimon back to the city you may uncover the truth behind the current ongoing mystery of File Island.  Those who re-join the new File City  will offer something helpful to the city whether it to run a Bank, Item Shop, Clinic, or much more.  Ideally you will help the village grow from its humble roots to a true city but it won’t be easy, tamer.

                           “ Becoming Garurumon is gonna be tough... “      

                        The game truly begins now as you are set on a journey to explore File Island, a wondrous land of mystery with many different ecosystems filled with many diverse Digimon and just as many wires emerging from the soil unlike anything you may have seen before anywhere else. And now with this journey comes responsibility - while your primary goal for being here may be to help File Island at large your more immediate task is to care for and raise your Digimon properly. It is up to you the player to decide how you raise your digital partner as each day passes by in a linear manner through morning, day, dusk, and dawn cycles. It is at this point you can immediately with courage choose to venture outside the city into the unknown or spend some time building the combat stats of your Digimon partner at The Green Gym section of File City. At the gym you can put your Digimon through a variety of training tasks which is typically focused on increasing one stat at a time primarily. These stats are known in the game as HP which effects how much damage they can take before fainting. MP which determines the amount of points how many combat techniques your partner can use in a battle. Off(ense) which is the stat the game uses to figure out how hard a Digimon hits another. Def(ense) which works as the opposite, this stat determines how much damage a Digimon takes from being hit in which the higher def means less taken away from HP. SPD which determines how often a Digimon attacks with a technique (this caps at 300 SPD), how often a Digimon guards against an opponent's technique, and how fast your Digimon's Finishing Move charges through their own actions. And last but not least is Wis(dom!) which can give your Digimon the ability to listen to more commands in battle. Each training session causes an hour to pass by in the digital world but this is time well spent because these stats are the key to success in combat.

                                     “ Yup, it really won’t be easy. “               

If you raise your Rookie-rank Digimon improperly they will eventually become a rather weak Champion-level creature known as "Numemon" hardly fitting for the moniker at first glance. However if you raise them well they can become something greater through digivolution and every Digimon has multiple evolutionary branches which are driven conditionally by how you raise the Digimon whether it be through hitting stat thresholds, battles, the amount (or lack of) care mistakes, techniques learned, or even body weight.  The game even has additional secret methods of reaching digivolutions that may surprise a player the first time playing and even longtime players who have yet to experience everything the game has to offer in their time with it. You may not always get what you want through Digivolution without proper planning so keep that in mind.

           Outside the city you may run into hostile Digimon that can quickly become challenging for your partner had they not been prepared properly for the dangers of the wild. Once in combat you have to leave the battling to your Digimon partner as you stand on the sidelines making commands or supporting them with various healing items. It is at this early point you learn that you cannot directly control what your partner does in battle you can only offer them orders to influence their behavior in a battle system akin to something known as an "auto-battler" today. Your partner when they achieve victory can learn techniques from their foes, obtain items, and Bits (currency). On the other hand your partner can fall in battle and for each time they fall in battle they will lose a heart which will result in them passing away upon losing three hearts. Between any battles that can occur your digital partner needs food, they need to use the bathroom, and your digital partner needs rest. Every time your Digimon uses the bathroom outside of a stall or porta-potty it will result in a "Care Mistake"  which the game will remember for that Digimon's lifespan through an in game counter. 

                       “ Forget it. This dino is more cuddly than any wolf. “

  I mentioned lifespan earlier, right? Well every partner Digimon generally needs to be cared for with love before unavoidably they pass away sooner or later. And when that time comes Jijimon will be there to reincarnate your partner Digimon into a Digi-Egg where they start life all over again. Due to the nature of this game you form a bond with your Digimon that you may not find yourself having with other similar monster raising video games such as Pokemon. The time you have with your Digimon in the Digital World is fleeting and it's quite sad. As a tamer it is with love inside of your heart that you must juggle that fleeting time between making your buddy stronger and spending their same limited time saving the Digimon outside the city alongside the player. There is a real somber feeling when you know your Digimon might be on your last day as you run a frozen tundra for the final time at night knowing it might be their last one with you. Everyone who has played this game enough understands that heavy feeling and it is that feeling which drives you to do better for your next partner.

                              “  This land is labeled correctly. “

This game world has its own logic and rules that are rewarding to learn to get past the harsh difficulty curves.  And now with that being said it is this same "gameplay loop" which I laid out in detail leading up to this which would often overwhelm me as a child. Many times I would aim for my Agumon to become the mighty Greymon only to get another alternate digivolution like Monochromon instead of the one which I planned for. This would happen to younger me even with the official Brady Strategy Guide by my side because a guide can only help you through so much - this was a game you had to experience and learn yourself back in the day to get the most out of it.

                                  “ Time flows differently here! “

The Digital World in this game is all about discovery. Often you may have no idea what to do next exactly if you are playing the game blind though with enough discovery you will figure it out.  You may find that next Digimon you need to bring back to File Island in a place you never thought to check. You may even find a random item on screen you have walked by hundreds of time without ever having seen before that hundredth visit. Digimon World balances elements of a pet-simulator, and maybe more impressively a world that feels like it is really one of a kind.  The environments in this game are beautiful, populated with all kinds of digital critters, and accompanied by often fitting ambient sounds which fit the atmosphere the game presents to us.  There is nothing quite like walking through File City at nighttime with your Digimon partner as that lovely song plays away in the background. Composers Koji Yamada and Yuko Ishii outdid themselves with this game’s score, most songs being geared to the environment at hand and some others geared towards pulse pounding combat as your partner is locked in a fight for survival. For example the musical themes of Factorial Town feels daunting and mechanical in nature.  We now live in an era full of "open world" video games everywhere and yet sometimes Digital World feels more alive to me than even some modern AAA offerings. It says a lot about a game’s quality when it can stick with someone positively years later.

                                      “ Make the right choice. “

Speaking of the way the game looks all together it is a pretty nice looking game for the Playstation. It is the first time that the original Digimon which famed Digimon designer Kenji Watanabe created were being presented in a 3D environment within a video game. These 3D models are a huge leap in technology over the V-Pet sprites and these over several dozen designs really shined in this iteration of The Digital World. Often the monsters in this series are known for looking "cool" such as Leomon so it is worth mentioning even the cuter designs like Monzaemon look absolutely adorable in this game. The graphics, soundtrack, and presentation of this game are pretty strong in my opinion.        

              “ This chart helps you raise every kind of Digimon available! ”

 I truly appreciate this game even more today then I did in the year 2000 when I played it for the very first time and there is so much more that I could muse over with this game. Now with all this being said there are many bugs and glitches in this game so be warned this gemstone can be rough around the edges.   Overall I will cut myself short to say proudly that this game stands up to the test of time and the influence of this game is felt to this day. Worth mentioning that "Digimon World: Next Order" serves as a true sequel to this beloved PlayStation title and yet as good as it may be the new title does not replace the original game. I'm urging anybody who has not played this game yet to seek it out and give it a chance. Better yet find the Digimon World Randomizer created by the game's devout community which adds many features and fixes nearly every game bug, all things in service of making the experience even better. There is even chatter from the current producer of Digimon video games that we can expect either a remaster or remake of this beloved title someday. Which makes sense considering Digimon is even more popular globally than ever now. No matter how you experience this game it is worth playing for any Digimon fan even just one time. 

Digimon World is an incredible adventure worthy of being called stardust.

-- Larsa

[in-death-we-fall]

Slipknot

The Tightest Knots Never Fray

Metal Edge 48-11, March 2003

By Roger Lotring

(google drive link) Murderdolls interview here – Stone Sour interview here

“Someone has to bring down the whore, dude,” says Shawn Crahan, determinedly addressing the soulless gluttony that has devoured integrity from contemporary music. “I’ve been all over the place,” he admits, readily likening his foregone ranting as being “almost schizophrenic, man.” But for #6—the Clown percussionist of Slipknot—the corporate impurity that desecrates his sacred rock ‘n’ roll art form pits him as the proverbial David in the face of a Goliath. “People always say Clown’s a fuckin’ retard genius,” he exhilarates. “And I say, ‘You’re right.’ I’ve taken an oath, spilled a lot of blood, and I’m part of an organization that is going to do nothing but bring down the pig.”

The challenge of Disasterpieces is the first of the slings and arrows. A turbulently intense package, the very first Slipknot DVD is largely centered around a February 2002 live performance filmed at the London Arena. A fast-paced style of editing moves conjunctively with 5.1 surround sound to overwhelm both the aural and visual senses, making for an extreme Slipknot experience. An accompanying second disc features a video history of the band, including the banned clip for “Spit It Out,” plus a previously unreleased animated version of “Wait And Bleed.” Enhanced bonus material and an exclusive audio track—”Purity”—make this DVD the gauntlet of a challenge to sedentary bands reigning over hard rock popularity. “I’ve kind of made the DVD like, ‘Look, if you’re not this good, and you don’t know what the fuck’s going on, why don’t you quit and do us all a favor?’” Moreover, Disasterpieces is an architectural draft by which metal fans can judge what to expect from their music. Nothing less will suffice anymore in a landscape of media saturated mediocrity.

“It’s the cattle thing,” Clown defines, a cultural popularity branded by lethargy. “If you’re not at the back of the pack, something in life forced you to be at the front,” he says, intimating music fans as an order of natural selection. “There’s probably a chance for everyone, but it means we’re going to have to go, ‘Hey, you guys at the back of the pack, they’re going to eat you, do you understand?’” It’s what he calls an education. “That’s what Disasterpieces is,” he says by comparison, something by which metal fans can decipher the natural order of musical innovation.

Metal Edge sat down on a Saturday afternoon for an intense conversation with Clown about Disasterpieces, as well as his perspective on the Stone Sour and Murderdolls branches of the Slipknot family tree. “I used to talk about unity and pushing forward,” he concedes, noting that, “I think Slipknot did that to the point that we don’t need to anymore. Now, it’s obvious all of us are looking for our insides. We are trying to evolve Slipknot. All of us need to fuckin’ find some stuff for ourselves,” he explains, assuring diehard Slipknot fans that “they ain’t got nothing to worry about. Let the Maggots know it’s all coming for ‘em. We’re not getting older, we’re getting better.”

METAL EDGE: Is the Disasterpieces DVD meant as a means of focusing attention on Slipknot in the interim before a new album? SHAWN CRAHAN: Most people in the world have to realize that we, the band, have been doing this for seven years. We’ve been doing it professionally, nonstop, for four years. We just got to the point where we understand what home is. So, everybody’s kind of doing their own thing right now—which is totally cool with everybody in the band—because we need time. The third album is coming, right around the corner, and we know it’s going to be different. No one has to be worried about anything drastically changing, ‘cause we’re pretty focused on what we need to be. However, the third one, I think it’s gonna be a really crazy, weird, all-out war. Every member is gonna bring who he is to the table, with all the experience he’s downloaded for the last seven years. This DVD was never intended to let people know that we were alright or whatever. It’ll run its course for two or three months, and we’re starting to write the new album in January—not all of us, but people are gonna fall into place as need be. But, like I said, man, this new album’s gonna be completely insane, as far as I’m concerned.

ME: Would it be fair to say that this DVD almost closes a chapter of Slipknot? SC: I’ve been getting into a lot of trouble lately, because I’ve been telling people that it ends an era. And I don't care what anyone says about it, it ends an era. I’m not interested—the Clown is not interested—in using goats anymore. I’m not interested in half the shit that’s on our stage. Have I talked about this with everyone else? No. But I do a lot of that stuff, and I’m just not interested in the Iowa show no more. I mean, I’m done, I’m bored, and it’s over with. The DVD captured it as best as we could. There were over ten thousand people, over twenty-one cameras, and it was just pure mayhem. You got the most of the show that we could do, that we did for Iowa for over a year.

ME: But isn’t that the point? Why continue doing the Iowa show? It wasn’t meant to be forever, it was meant to be that album. SC: Right, I think people just think that we’re breaking up, or something stupid like that. But no, it’s absolutely the end of an era, get fucking used to it! People change. Fourteen-year-old fans that were there [when] we came out, they’re eighteen now. We’re changing, too, and if no one likes it, fuck off.

ME: You mentioned that this project consisted of a multiple camera shoot, comprising a double DVD. When the idea was first conceived, was it readily apparent that it was going to be so intensive? SC: I knew what was going to happen. I came up with the idea of so many cameras, and the reason was, before, we had only a couple that would film the band. I would just pretty much almost shoot myself, every time we got something in, ‘cause I was so disappointed. Great, you got footage of Sid jumping in the crowd, but what about Joey’s excellent footwork? Where’s all the angles? So, I knew we were going to have a monster. They were talking about one disc, but I knew it would be literally impossible. There’s over four thousand edits in the show itself, and that just takes a lot of information for a computer to recognize.

ME: But with a band like Slipknot, and what it does onstage, you almost have to do it the way Disasterpieces was done, because if you’re at the show, visually, there’s so much going on. SC: That’s how I edited the whole thing with Phil [Richardson]. We edited it like we were in the front row. The reason why I was so excited about being able to do this project was, just like you said, yes, it moves very fast. But how is it moving? Is it moving out-of-control, or is it literally going Clown… Chris… joey… Mick… Sid… Paul… Jim… Mick… Clown… Sid—Ya’ know what I mean? That’s what it’s doing. You’re literally getting to see the chaos as it’s being done. Yeah, it moves very quick, but so does Slipknot. [Laughing] This is for kids to identify with what the fuck exactly goes on at a Slipknot show—Who starts what, who’s playing where, and what they’re doing while they’re doing it. This is all about cues, and the only way to do it right is to do it quickly. Plus, I don’t make anything for the weak, dude. I am here to cleanse the weak away from the idea known as Slipknot. I only want people that understand, because after they take it all in, they’re teachers. And they’ll go out and start molding the future. I’ve kind of made this DVD like, ‘Look, if you’re not this good, why don’t you quit now and do us all a favor?’ That’s how angry I am at the music scene. I understand music has to move, but I’ve never felt so sorry for people listening to music right now, ‘cause it’s fucking crap! Nu Metal? Garbage! It’s garbage, dude! It is! If you know you’re a nu metal band, you’re fucking garbage, end of story. This DVD is about real music, real players—there’s not one musical overdub in the whole thing. What you hear is what happened that night. The only thing that was done, I believe, was in the beginning of “Purity,” because the pyro blew up a couple of the mics. I don’t know any bands that can go through an hour-and-a-half of intensive, dead-on musicianship as we do. I pride myself very, very much to be honored in a band in such good company, ‘cause we’re all incredible musicians, and we make it fly.

ME: So it’s fair to say that this DVD is a challenge to any other band out there right now? If you can’t live up to this… SC: …If you can’t live up to this, why are you even bullshitting? I’ve been on tour with bands that suck. And I’m looking at 'em like, ‘You got a record deal? You’re getting a chance to change the world? Who signed you, some fuckin’ dork? Some idiot over at some big company that knows the formula?’ Man, they’re all losers, dude. Record people get a formula of something that works—Just take Slipknot, for example. Look at all the little fashion statements that have been started, because a band like Slipknot works. Most of the idiots that sign bands because of us are people that said no to Slipknot. I could call four people out from every label. The industry’s a fuckin’ joke, dude! I’m in rock ‘n’ roll, and I’ve never been so embarrassed to be a part of something in my entire life. But it doesn’t matter, dude, ‘cause Slipknot’s there. That’s what we stand for, and that’s what we break down.

ME: Isn’t that a cue, then, with your band being a leader within the rock genre, to throw a monkey wrench into it and make a total left turn? SC: I think so. I never sit here and intend to break the rules. I go, ‘This is the band I’m in.’ The whole time I was editing the DVD, I said, ‘Oh my God, I’m in that band! Yeah, I’m getting to design this, and the whole idea of the DVD is mine, but holy fuck, that’s me in the band! I’m in this band!’

ME: It’s a little surreal, isn’t it? SC: Oh, it’s completely surreal, man! I am so honored to be in the company of eight dudes that fuckin’ throw down. We throw down, man, and I’m proud of it. And I’m not gonna sit back like other people in the band—Everybody would be humble. I don’t care anymore! If your band isn’t this good, then you suck! I’m tired of all the political bullshit, all the bands making fun of us, talking shit. Well, guess what? All your bands suck. None of you could do what we do. I’ve watched all of you, and it doesn’t happen. You come short.

ME: It’s like the early days of KISS, when they would be ridiculed, and then blow other bands off the stage. Nobody would be laughing afterward. SC: We’re actually now managed by KISS’ manager. And we’ve talked a couple stories, ‘cause I play music because of KISS. That was my introduction to music. In the early stages, no one knew what they looked like, and people used to flip out. And I was thinking, goddamn, that sounds a lot like Slipknot!

ME: Watching Disasterpieces, everybody’s faces have been carefully obscured to preserve that mystique. But is the marketing necessity of Murderdolls and Stone Sour detrimental to Slipknot? Joey, Corey and Jim have all been unmasked. SC: I don’t know how to answer that, man. I love Joey, Corey and Jim—As I love everybody in the band. However, things have changed now, and they’re the only ones that have to live with that. And they’re the ones that have to be responsible for that. It is what it is, man, but I don’t think it matters. Joey and Corey and Jim have found another extension of themselves, okay, and I want to clear it up. Corey is a genius. He writes all the time, all day long. I got notebooks that he’s just left laying around, full of conceptual pieces. Some belong to Slipknot, some belong to Corey Taylor. There’s things he won’t even bring to Slipknot, because it’s not the ‘Knot. And no one knows that better than Corey. Think about what he did, man. I mean, he takes the mask off—You know how hard that was? And he did it, and he’s succeeding. And I say, good for him, because that’s what Slipknot stands for. Recently, I said we’re the biggest punk band in the world. I didn’t mean like we’re a punk band, [but] I mean we live the punk feeling. We’re the biggest metal band in the world, and I got three dudes trouncing around the world without masks, succeeding, okay? That’s exactly what Slipknot is.

ME: Meaning that Slipknot is at the point where it can fly in the face of convention and do whatever it likes. SC: I think what we’ve always preached, if we’ve preached anything, is to thyself be true. Don’t ever judge me, just let me do my fucking thing. We’re Slipknot. We stand up and teach kids to stand up! Fight for who you are! Be who you are, don’t worry about it. And now, my own members are like, ‘I gotta do this.’ They go up against all odds and break down all the fuckin’ walls. And they look everybody in the face with their real face, after relying on rubber masks for fucking years? People need to shut up. Fucking ignorance, man! I don’t care what any of ‘em say, we do what we want.

ME: Isn’t that the fundamental basis of being in rock ‘n’ roll to begin with? SC: Yeah! You got Slipknot, now you got the Murderdolls, you got Stone Sour—I will bet my left testicle, there will be other things. Who knows? Every member of the band might have its own entity, and then get together as Slipknot. Oh, some might suck, some might be good. But the point is, what do you do with your life? Most people that have an opinion, aren’t you just cattle being programmed with the imprint? I’m ready for this whole thing to change, man. I’m ready for the pictures in your magazine to change color; I’m ready for people to start talking about things they want, instead of their editors. I’m ready for bands to start telling the truth and lift the veil of rock ‘n’ roll, instead of all this bullshit.

ME: Have you listened to either the Stone Sour or Murderdolls albums yet? SC: Oh, yeah. I listened to the Murderdolls by myself—Joey gave me the copy. When we’re on the road, we’re both very, very busy, and we don’t have a lot of Shawn and Joe time. But Corey, when we were in Europe last time, we both happened to be up very early in the morning, and we were on a long drive. I got to listen to the whole Stone Sour album with Corey. Sitting there with the creator of it, somehow I understood all of it and knew where he was going. I even told him what his next single after “Bother” would be.

ME: Their exploration of musical direction will be invigorating when working on a new Slipknot album. That’s going to be the most positive effect on what the band comes up with, creatively. SC: Yeah. I would have used to have told you that I’d have my people take your head off with that explanation, but I agree with you now. I mean, dude, we’ve been going for four fucking years. Only now can I say thank you to the rest of the guys for allowing ourselves to be home and figure it out. And let me tell you, the three years before being signed—Pure hell. You want to see the evolvement of Slipknot? It took fuckin’ years. I used to wear a Barney outfit. One weekend, I’d be Barney, the next, I’d be a priest. Mick would be Little Bo Peep—Look at Mick, almost seven foot tall, in a Little Bo Peep outfit, slamming with a bonnet on.

ME: But that makes sense, because it wouldn’t have worked if it was something formulated. SC: No! I’ll be honest, man, I hurt some feelings when those guys did that. I hurt some serious feelings. I think people are still angry at me, ya’ know? And that’s cool. I don’t give a fuck. So what? [Laughing] But I take the responsibility of Slipknot hardcore, man. We gave these kids with nothing, something. They were the ones that were so far gone, they were like, I’m outta here, I’m gonna kill myself. Boom—Slipknot comes alone. I’ve had kids wear Slipknot shirts—you know how they are when they wear Slipknot shirts—it’s like a fucking army. They’ll wash it every day, to wear it every day. It lets other kids now (sic) what kind of kid they are. It’s a mentality. That kid is basically telling us where he’s at, by wearing that statement. That’s why I get so nuts, [and] why people are mad at me. Slipknot’s come to a point where—we know we’re a band, dude—but we’ve become icons of responsibility in the world we live in. I try to live my words, man. I try to be really, really responsible.

[whencyclopedia]

The Mutual Destruction of Sennacherib & Babylon

The reign of Assyrian king Sennacherib (705-681 BCE) was chiefly characterized by his difficulties with Babylon. Throughout the history of the Assyrian Empire, Babylon had caused problems and had even been destroyed by the Assyrian king Tukulti-Ninurta I in c. 1225 BCE. Even so, there were direct cultural bonds between Babylon and Ashur, capital of the Assyrian Empire, and the city was always re-built and re-populated. Babylon was more than just a physical city of bricks and streets in the minds of the Mesopotamians: it was a cultural center of immense significance. Tukulti-Ninurta I's desecration of Babylon and her gods, in fact, led directly to his assassination. Owing to its status among the people of Mesopotamia, however, the people of Babylon seemed to feel that they could repeatedly throw off the authority of whatever ruling body held the region with impunity, and one can understand how a king could become tired of such an attitude. This was precisely what happened with Sennacherib in his dealings with the great city.

Sargon II & Sennacherib

Sennacherib's problems with Babylon were largely inherited. His father, Sargon II (reigned 722-705 BCE) had defeated the tribal chieftain Merodach-Baladan and driven him from Babylon but had allowed him to live. Once Sargon II was dead, and Sennacherib took the throne, Merodach-Baladan returned to Babylon and re-claimed the throne. The Babylonians welcomed him; Sennacherib had done nothing at all to endear himself to the city. As the new king, he was supposed to have participated in the ceremony in which he took the hand of the statue of the god Marduk as a sign of respect for the god, Babylon, and the people Marduk presided over. Instead, Sennacherib had simply sent them word that he was now king of Babylon and never even bothered to visit the city. Merodach-Baladan was not in the least bit concerned about the new king. Sennacherib was considered a weakling. He had never taken part in any of his father's military campaigns and had spent his earlier life as crown prince with administrative duties, while Sargon II had achieved his glorious victories on the battlefield. When Sennacherib heard that Merodach-Baladan had taken Babylon, he did not even lead a force to re-claim it himself but, instead, sent his commander-in-chief at the head of an army. This force was swiftly defeated by the combined forces of Babylon and their allies the Elamites and Aramaeans in 703 BCE. Babylon then arranged its troops, just in case the Assyrians came back again, and settled down to its own business. According to the historian Susan Wise Bauer:

That was the last straw. Sennacherib himself came sweeping down like the wrath of Assur and broke through the allied front line, barely pausing. Merodach-Baladan ran from the battlefield and crept into the marshes of the Sealand, which he knew well, to hide himself; Sennacherib marched the rest of the way to Babylon, which prudently opened its gates as soon as it saw the Assyrian king on the horizon. Sennacherib came through the open gate, but chose to send Babylon a message: he ransacked the city, took almost a quarter of a million captives, and destroyed the fields and groves of anyone who had joined the alliance against him (384).

The people of Babylon quickly realized that the poor opinion they had held of Sennacherib was misguided. In this early campaign the new king showed himself an adept tactician, able military leader, and ruthless enemy.

Continue reading...

[sepublic]

I hope King got to reclaim the bones of his siblings. After reclaiming his mother’s body from further exploitation and misrepresentation for power and genocide by Belos, it’d have been nice to see him do the same with the Titan Trappers’ gross misuse of his siblings’ bodies. The fact that King fell for the intended purpose of this misuse and almost died because of it…

Between the nightmare sequence and the Collector learning what death is, and the Titan Trappers being incapacitated by them? It’d have been really great to see King and the Collector clear the deal; That the ‘Grand Huntsman’ does not approve of Bill’s lies, and anyhow they will reclaim these remains by force if necessary.

Given the setup for Tarak and the other Trappers to realize Bill is a liar, plus their Grand Huntsman revealing they were misused in a similar way by Belos, whose reign they at least understood was faulty? I could see a shift in them renouncing these ways, esp since they never actually killed a Titan, we had Tarak’s guilt over having to sacrifice King, etc. It’s easy to advocate for the genocide of a dehumanized ‘evil’ race until you actually encounter one of them and realize, Oh! That’s a real person!

Tbh given the parallels between Bill and Belos? I can see Tarak, possibly the entire Titan Trapper community, being akin to Caleb; We already have Tarak’s previous bonding with King, which led to some hesitation! Dana confirmed Caleb and Evelyn initially met one another under the guise of Evelyn being human, so I wonder if Caleb had a similar moment to Tarak in EotW, where he was gung-ho about killing witches, realized this friend of his was a witch, hesitated… But unlike Tarak, didn’t go through with it and even defied the group.

Maybe Tarak eventually does this during the timeskip, at least for the practical reason of realizing Bill is a liar. Of course, Tarak still tried and King is a child to him, unlike peers Caleb and Evelyn; So I don’t expect King to forgive and accept Tarak as family the way Evelyn did Caleb. Who knows…

Regardless; The mother was laid to proper rest and no longer had her grave desecrated. Given King got closure and even revenge over that, it’d be wonderful to see him get the same for his siblings, since brotherhood with Luz is just as important as his parental figure in Eda, the two other main characters of the show! King already got back at Bill by destroying his teleportation gate, and with the Collector ‘collecting’ him and King not doing much to stop it? He could always go further…

Just, man; I have to mourn the siblings. We know the Titan at least, people revere her. But who were the siblings? Only King and his family will mourn them. What were they like? Were they like King with Eda, in their relationship with their biological mother? Were they artists, goofballs? Bill at least confirms similarities in being big tyrants with appetites who go WEH! How young were they when the Archivists and Trappers killed them, before their mother, in grief, had to escape? Did they cry out for their father, were they murdered in front of him?

It just really gets me man. One genocide may have been averted, but another has not been fully avenged or prevented with the Archivists still out there, and there was simply no room to address that with everything else. And King learned all of this, just when he actually began to consider the idea that he has other siblings he doesn’t know about, and begins to miss (and then mourn) them too…!

[imakemywings]

Asphodel

On AO3

The field upon which their last great blow against Morgoth had been turned aside was a barren expanse of sunbaked mud. Dust blew up from the cracks in the earth and whipped through the air in a thousand tiny storms; heaps of remains, of armor, of weapons, dotted the landscape, and reigning over all, the putrid Haudh-en-Nirnaeth.

Daeron had heard already of the fate of the high king of the Noldor, and he knew this wasteland had nothing for him, yet he came, unable to sever the cord of destiny around his throat. He trudged across the desolate land and each rusting trinket he passed stabbed at his heart, for it seemed to him that the fate of Middle-earth was now written, and no hope remained to them.

Because there was nothing to find, there was nowhere to stop; he only came as close as he dared to the Hill and sank down onto his knees, the gritty breeze stinging his dark cheeks. Had it been here, he wondered? Was this his resting place? It might as well have been.

Daeron had never seen a skull split with a single blow, but his imagination worked wonders in this regard: of splintered bones and rent muscles and ruptured organs, of blood pouring forth onto thirsty soil, of the obliteration of a person.

Daeron bent forward until his forehead touched the desecrated ground and a low moan trailed from his throat; he tried to subordinate these thoughts to the memory of Fingon as he had been at the Mereth Aderthad, how he had allowed Daeron to coax smiles and laughter from a heart wearied of tragedy, but he could not do it. The only other thing on which his mind would focus was his own desperate pleading just before battle: at the edge of the woods he had relinquished any remaining shreds of dignity to grasp at Fingon’s doublet, begging him to forget it, to forget his kingship and his kin and Morgoth most of all, and come into the wood with Daeron, and leave the rest behind.

In a tiny pocket Daeron had sewn inside his tunic, over the left side of his breast, was a loop of wavy black hair which Fingon had given him when he said goodbye in favor of his duty. This Daeron could still remember: How Fingon had smiled when he pressed it into Daeron’s hand, assuring him that all would be well, and when they met again, it would be under a sun which shone not upon the Enemy, and then Fingon would take Daeron to Hithlum that he might partake in the grand celebrations of the Noldor.

Seeing that Fingon could not be turned from his course, Daeron had said no more of it, and allowed Fingon to make his promises and embrace him that he might go to his end at least assured of Daeron’s affections. Now was come the shadow Daeron had foreseen, and there was nothing left over which he might mourn; there was not even a suggestion of the final resting place of Fingon Fingolfinion, prince from across the great wide sea. Once again, Daeron found himself merely tangential to another’s tale, sitting in the ruins of all that had been at the start of the tale and now was no more.

Sitting back on his heels, Daeron turned his face up to the sky, and his tears ran back into his braids.

“What I have done to make you so despise me, I repent of it,” he said to the merciless sky. “I would that you might tell me my proper penance, for I cannot bear this endless sorrow. You made me not with such strength to endure.”

The battlefield was silent; not even the buzzards lingered there.

There was nothing for Daeron in the Anfauglith, it was true: but it was the last place he had hoped to find something. In absence of meaning, of purpose, of comfort, he tore a strip of one of the banners of the Noldor, and told himself it had been the one Fingon had carried, and tucked the scrap into his pocket with the hair.

Where Daeron went when he drifted from Anfauglith none could say, for he vanished then into complete obscurity and the tales tell no more of the loremaster of Doriath and his silent flute, nor does his name cross the memorials of Fingon son of Fingolfin, the shortest-reigning of the high kings of the Noldor.