#the blood splatters being representative of their demises

[onesunofagun]

Undeath in the Era of the Hero of Time : 1

aka Seeing the Hero’s Shade in this TP replay shook up all my feelings of agony again and now I’m working backwards from there because I like to hurt myself.

Part One: An Overview of How Fucked Things Are ™

aka The Blood Soaked Hyrule of OoT’s time 

Take it as you will, in the Zeldaverse, the colour green has an overwhelming association with undeath. 

Sure, sure, life too, I hear you. Farore came down and produced all the living beings that would uphold the law, apparently (specifically not claiming monsters and demons, but that’s another thing). On the surface, that make sense. Forests, lush green fields, prosperity, all of those good things. Green the colour of the most common rupee, green the colour of the Hero’s tunic. Green the colour of magic, and potions that revitalise the body and spirit.

The thing is, revitalising the body and spirit is a flexible idea. To imbue something with new life and vitality can have a lot of implications, especially when you stop talking about the strictly living. 

I feel vitality is certainly the best word, not only because of it’s association with life and potency ala the Goddess origin stories, but in the ways that the game uses green itself, such as a measure of both magic and stamina. Green is the colour chosen to represent the unlocked potential within young Heroes. 

Vitality specifically refers to a state of being strong and active, and it also refers to the continuance of something to exist. That’s a great thing for plants, or economies, or a potion taken by a young Link who’s swung their sword around or fired off a spell one too many times and feels a little low.

But the dead, though?

As it happens, Hyrule is absolutely littered with human remains, in no small part due to the very recently ended civil wars. 

The Civil War, if you need the reminder, is described as a time when the many races of Hyrule were divided and each focused on establishing dominion over the Sacred Realm (because Triforce). I touched on this in my last meta post, but basically, its no holds barred to stop that from happening because if the wrong person gets into the Sacred Realm and makes a wish, it immediately malfunctions. 

The criteria for getting into the Sacred Realm and touching the Triforce without royally fucking everything, is basically impossible for anybody not chosen by Hylia. 

If you are neither of Hylia’s Bloodline (The Hyrulean Royal Family) or one of her Chosen Avatars (The current incarnation of the Hero), you are not supposed to touch the Triforce. Ever. You WILL be found wanting, it WILL shatter, the Sacred Realm WILL be corrupted by your selfish desires, it WILL unleash and onslaught of mystical influence (reflecting your heart) onto the country.

Now, if it’s Zelda or Link who touches it, that’s fine. Good vibes will pour out. An age of prosperity will ensue. The Sacred Realm is in its default state, a blank and neutral wellspring of magical force.

The game has been rigged from the get go because Hylia still had a job to do. She had to get creative because Demise almost captured the flag, so to speak, leading to the snafu of the Cycle and all that because she cheated at the game, but ultimately Hylia’s task was to guard the Triforce. And that still remains true, for the most part. The Hyrulian Royal Family (and the Shiekah by extension) had to stop at absolutely nothing to win the wars and unify the country, and retain the stasis of the Realm and Triforce, because that’s what their divine orders are.

That’s what they’re supposed to do, ‘the very reason that they’re born’, to lend a quote from King Daphnes. With Hylia on their side by default, they’re willing to do a lot of fucked up things to make sure that happens, ‘for the greater good’.

These dark times are a result of our deeds... -- TP Zelda

In OoT The Sheikah are known as the Shadow Folk. They are heavily associated with death, whether that is caring for the dead’s rest in the graveyard, or working as spies and assassins on behalf of the Royals, or dabbling in various forms of necromancy. Red eyes are an established trait of their people. I will note that, at least from a Japanese point of view, red is often used with the intention of intimidating evil spirits. But it is also a color identified with power and vitality.

So, one could suppose, the Sheikah red eye also symbolises power/control over evil and darkness (spiritually).

That’s a little something that plays nicely with things like the OoT Manga’s explanation of the tear on the eye (and the previous betrayal of the Royal family) and the high probability of a Shiekah faction defaulting during the wars and being banished with other traitors to become the Twili. I know the manga isn’t canon and also SS Impa has a tear, but if you squint, that might be because of her own feelings of personal failure to the Goddess after Hylia’s shedding of her Divinity. You could headcanon that. The existence of the Yiga later in BoTW as a similar happening of division and betrayal lend some more weight to things.

Also, Sheikah who defaulted during the civil war might have even been the ones who actually utilised the Shadow Temple. 

Headline: Necromancer ninjas in the process of torturing enough info out of the enemies of the Royal family, who were reportedly seeking the Sacred Realm, decide ‘hey fuck it, let’s take it ourselves’. 

That certainly fits into the description of, ‘interloper skilled with dark magic started to appear, seeking dominion of the Sacred Realm’, for me.

Anyway, to the point.

In ostensibly one of the most haunted areas of the game, Kakariko village, we’re treated to the Graveyard and the Royal Family’s Tomb, the Shadow Temple, and the Bottom of the Well. All of these showcase the obvious death and torture that went on, as well as the creepy byproducts of places so saturated with blood, pain, regret, and hatred.

There are skulls in little alcoves on the walls of the catacombs, literally built of bones, who deliver messages to Link. The ones that whisper these messages are all marked by the glowing green eye sockets. Here, the green is used to make the presence of a ghostly sentience inhabiting the skull. 

Unsettling. Musty. 4/10 heebie-jeebies.

The Deadhand, giver of childhood trauma that it is, really does its job to hammer home the fact that there has been so many deaths, so much anguish and horror, that those remains can seemingly form into entirely new monstrosities. An amalgamate of undead flesh and nightmare fuel, made up of the body parts of torture victims and the grudges of lingering spirits, seeking to consume the living vitality of whatever comes near-- Link wearing green around the thing might as well be red to a bull.

When defeated in game, it typically drops a small green pot that refuels Link’s magic.

This is a common theme with undead enemies, specifically the ones that are of the zombie flavour. Redeads, Gibdos, Deadhands. All of them generally give up, effectively, distilled magic as a drop item.

Terrifying. Probably smells even worse. 11/10 heebie-jeebies.

Literal torture device. So many people died here, the room has a green tinge to it. It is soaked in the spiritual imprint of the pain and anguish that took place here. Blood sits here looking freshly spilled, despite the civil war ending many years prior and the Shiekah having ‘died out’, save Impa.

Elsewhere in the temple and under the well, blood splatters are darker red and at least have the decency to pretend to be old. This means one of two things:

Impa still has to make sacrifices to the Seal that contains Bongo Bongo, or feeds people to the undead creatures who lurk down in the dark so they don’t wander up. (Cue the gasp of ‘so that’s why she let the Hylians into Kakariko! Every so often one of them goes missing!’)

Which is a fun dark headcanon to play with, but probably not the case.

Or more likely, the residual spiritual energy that the green haze suggests manifests fresh blood in a manner typical of extreme hauntings. For the victims, their hatred and pain persists so strongly, that their blood seeps up from the cracks no matter how long it has been.

Poltergeist shit. Slip hazard. 8/10 heebie-jeebies.

Then there is this. Some people say its just another torture thing, it could have been intended to convey some sort of acid dip. If not torture, maybe bodily disposal. And sure, that’s a reasonable guess. 

But it is at the very bottom most cavern of the Well of Three Features, and if it were acid-- for how long the bodies have just been marinating in it-- you can assume nothing would be left of them to stick out. And the fact that all the bodies are neatly spaced, with the arms oddly preserved. They’re presumably like that from lowering bodies in from the wooden beams, the victims may have been tied up with their arms straight upwards. 

But, given the Redeads wandering around nearby, I’m pretty sure that’s what this thing does. Make Redeads.

The liquid itself hurts Link, but Link is also alive, and this pool seems to be lacking much of a glow. It’s green, sure, but it’s not exactly teeming with energy. And I think that might be part of its designated purpose-- extracting that green vital energy from living prisoners, draining them until they’re dead. I’m talking juicing people and scooping out the good stuff like the pulp from a really disturbing OJ. 

But still steeped in the juice as a corpse, you’re basically pickled in magic brine, so then those gross husks crawl out as Redeads. (Hey, you know what’s handy in wartime? Scaring the shit out of enemy forces by sending some zombies at them. And if they kill them, you’ve lost nothing. If the Sheikah could actually control them? Undead soldiers. Excellent stuff.)

But all the pulpy good stuff is gone, and has been for a while, so most of the bodies in there haven’t pickled in enough magic to reanimate, I suppose.

Human juicer that churns out zombies. Out of juice currently. 6/10 heebie-jeebies.

Now, THIS is active zombie juice, if I’ve ever seen it.

This is the Royal Family’s Tomb, by the way. Note the skeletons, picked clean, missing a lot of bones. And that’s a choice they made, because there are also full skeletons around to find. 

There are plenty of Redeads down there, for good measure, so I’m going to assume the skeletons are potential graverobbers who were eaten. If Sheikah can presumably command the dead, then the Redeads down there might actually be a counter measure against thieves. If a thief freaks out in the dark when he realises there’s undead down there trying to eat their face, there is also a good likelihood they’ll trip and splash into this green death. A few seconds of exposure is probably enough to kill the average person, and then if their corpse stews for a bit, you have another Redead. 

Their living energy revitalises the goop. Their body becomes bolstered security measures. It’s a self sustaining system.

Horrific but effective. 5/10 heebie-jeebies.

Also, there’s a chance that a couple of the skeletons or one or two Redeads down there are the remains of the Composer Brothers. But they will get their own special part in this series, covering Poes in particular.

But for the moment, let it be noted: their eyes are also that ghostly green.

Poes are spirits that are unable to move on and who have the unfortunate fate, if left unattended, of turning into phantom monsters who forget their human selves and prey on the living. They tend to pop up the most in two places. One, the Kakariko Graveyard, is obvious and somewhat expected. Dead people, lots of lingering spirits, most of them probably Sheikah and Knights of renown who died in the line of duty. Understandable.

So when you apply the same thought to the fact that Hyrule field is the second most common place to find them, you may as well be concluding that it’s an enormous mass grave of war casualties.

We have established that mass quantities of concentrated death, especially earth that is saturated by the spilled blood of strong soldiers and highly skilled warriors (full of life and magic, as it were), can result in creepy shit made from human remains reanimating over time. 

Poes share their haunting of the field with these bumpkins:

These hauntings are not the result of Ganondorf, or the corruption of the Sacred realm. They are not a particular curse placed by anybody.

The Poes and Stalfolk are present in the game from the very beginning, and quite normal fare for Hyrulean life. Lon Lon ranch and castle town are walled off for good reason, and the drawbridge raises at night specifically in response to the literal skeleton monsters who roam around at night. 

Stalchildren, specifically, seem akin to the Deadhand in that they are not a direct reanimation of any one particular set of remains. Rather, they seem to be mutated amalgamations of various parts. In the case of the Stalchildren, they rise up under the dark of night, a not-quite-human formation of bone and magic. They seem to possess an aimless drive to attack, perhaps possessed still by the orders of the soldiers who died there. 

Interestingly, in a somewhat similar fashion to BotW’s blood moon reanimating the fallen monsters (due to the potency of Malice in the land peaking at those times), Stalchildren only seem to be active under the moonlight. They disintegrate when the sunlight touches them, which promotes the idea that they are the bones of the fallen possessed by the ghostly memory of the war.

They also appear to wear raggy leather kilts, which is a feature they share with the related monster, the Stalfos, who are often acting out the part of a soldier as well. Even better, those bastards are actually WEARING GREEN, to boot, which given the history of Hyrulean Knights prior and their uniforms (SS and Minish cap) is pretty self evident. 

Stalfos, however, are also confirmed as humans who have died under certain unique circumstance (such as the magical influences of the Lost Woods) and reanimated as a consequence of what I assume is basically magic poisoning.

It could be a bit like an overdose, succumbing under the intense mystical forces at play within proximity to the Deku Tree (which the strong of spirit can resist). It could be a draining effect, maybe even just a gaseous version of what’s happening when people come into contact with the green goo, except extracted by the forest spirits and plants (also possible that the strong of spirit might resist). That could go either way.

The forest absolutely does eat people’s spiritual energy, though. RIP to Grog and Link’s mother. They’re Stalfos now.

"Anybody who comes into the forest will be lost. Everybody will become a Stalfos. Everybody, Stalfos."

Upon killing both kind of Stal, however, the bones rapidly deteriorate into flames.

You guessed it: green.

I’ve already pointed out a BoTW reference already, but to add more context back into this thing about the tie between green and things in Hyrule that refuse to die properly:

That last one is cheap of me I’m sorry but we’ll get to him too

So we have established that green has an overwhelming association with not only life, but states of undeath.

The overview is, things were already pretty fucked in OoT Era before Ganondorf got the Triforce.

On to part 2!

[willow-the-wisp-13]

Double Suicide

A round of applause for the techies in the back, the men in black, the coolest gang of puppeteers puppeteering - they made this movie so enjoyable to watch. 10/10 they were certainly my favorite part. I loved the opening credits use of bunraku to throw back to the original play, and to introduce the concept of the puppeteers to the audience. The use of puppeteers throughout the film gave the film such a unique stylization that made the movie much more successful than if they had been omitted. 

Even though I had read the play and seen the bunraku of this story before, I was surprised that the movie was able to keep me on my toes despite already knowing the ultimate outcome. Also, a side note, I have to talk about the GENIUS poster branding of this movie! Wow I applaud the graphic designer for lining up the English titles so that each character’s method of death would be perfectly represented by a red letter: an O because Jihei hung himself and an I for the stab wound in Koharu. Great graphic design, very clever. 

This movie also had great use of obvious foreshadowing. The ending is no surprise - it’s the title, you can’t miss it. And if you did miss it, well we get to see two decapitated puppet heads and even the dead before they actually die, so it is well established early on that we know what’s going to happen. Despite that, the movie is still very entertaining for having a fixed ending like that.

I also love Jihei’s house design. Especially the use of calligraphy to mimic the “blood splatter” shown behind Koharu in the scene right before. I think the use of black and white film in this scene is very clever because there is no distinction between blood and ink.

So many images from this movie become works of art in their own way, such as the way this shot frames Jihei’s wife with a blood splatter as if we were decapitated or stabbed like Koharu. The grim puppeteer figures add eerie elements to many of the stills.

I especially love the teamwork it took the puppeteers to hang Jihei from the gate. I like to imagine that they aren’t visible and that it is fate smoothing the road towards his demise so it seems easy despite how difficult it must actually be. This was also a difference between the play and the movie - in the play, I believe Jihei does wrap Koharu’s sash around him so that they will be stuck together even in death, but he does stab himself and they are bound together as they die. 

I haven’t quite decided, but I think the distinction of images adorning Koharu’s chamber’s in her “woman’s profession” vs Jihei’s rooms being adorned with calligraphy is and interesting choice. I’m not quite sure what the meaning behind that choice is, but it is an interesting one.

Overall, I really enjoyed this movie - mostly because of the eerie puppeteers.

[jjr1971]

Rewatch of Satoshi Kon’s Paranoia Agent on Blu-Ray disc.

So I just finished rewatching Satoshi Kon's one and only television series Paranoia Agent on Blu-Ray.  And wow was it so much darker than I ever remembered it.  In fact, I think it plumbs depths of human depravity deeper even than Perfect Blue or Paprika.  

Analyzing the series as a whole would take an entire book, so I want to zero in on what to me stand out as a few key themes, and also, I want to Zoom in and Enhance on a few Key scenes. I don't think I picked up the first time through that Tsukiko had really bad, sudden menstrual cramps that made her let go of Maromi's leash. Maromi was right--it wasn't her fault. But she couldn't possibly tell her Dad the whole truth.  Way too personal, and her father, being very strict, was not emotionally available to his vulnerable daughter going through this significant change in her life.  The mother seems to be absent, the figure a young girl experiencing the ups and downs puberty would naturally turn to.  The blood splatter of the dog-car accident serving a dual symbolic role...also menstrual blood. God, Satoshi Kon was a mad genius.   The mere idea of telling her strict father it was because she had sudden painful menstrual cramping that she dropped the leash was so mortifying she made up the whole Lil’ Slugger story to explain it away... That adds a whole fucked up psycho-sexual layer I completely missed the first time through...and the whole cognitive dissonance between levels of culpability...yes, it was a hot day and she was a distracted tween-to-teen girl already and letting go of the leash lead to the dog’s death...but letting go of the leash wasn’t a conscious act but an involuntary reflex in response to pain stimuli...and because of her strained relationship with her father she couldn’t tell him the truth of it...a painful delusion she buried deep in her psyche.  And the cartoon version of Maromi was right---it WASN'T Tsukiko's fault...not really....but damn that return of the repressed is a BITCH.... And like I don’t think her producer was “actually” a victim of Lil’ Slugger, he literally commits vehicular suicide right in front of her....after physically assaulting her then pretending like nothing happened...because he realizes he just destroyed his work relationship with his best artist by roughing her up physically & terrifying her and there's no fixing it or pretending everything's still fine now. And for Tsukiko personally, cartoon Maromi’s ongoing commercial success was a double edge sword....yes, it’s a cute mascot which she can be legitimately proud of, but it’s also a painful reminder of the violent death of a beloved pet that she loved and whose demise she felt partly responsible for.  Not exactly the healthiest creative muse, and hence her creative mental "block" as an artist that she struggles to overcome....This final scene where adult Tsukiko enters the memory of young Tsukiko and embraces real Maromi's lifeless body and apologies from her heart represents real closure for Tsukiko...a final admission of the stark truth of what happened, without reference to fault or blame as such.  It's a shame she couldn't have worked her way to this truth on the couch of a therapist, in a safe & supportive environment. The ending is open enough that maybe Tsukiko produced the adorable cat mascot at the end but the more likely reading is she quit the profession entirely and is in a happier place now...and look, there’s always another artist who will step up to produce the next big thing...and struggle like Tsukiko did to come up with a new thing that’s even better.....For that’s the artist’s eternal struggle, to surpass even oneself...success and achievement being forever fleeting and transitory...forever chasing the next big high....something Satoshi Kon knew as well as anyone. Also, Ep.10 is so darkly funny....Kon's own j'accuse at his audience and bosses....."we're literally killing ourselves to make this entertainment for you, you ungrateful shits!" And the ending is so defiantly BRECHTIAN in tone...like Kon is screaming at his audience: "Get out there and experience real life, you fucking gross Otaku!"; escapist fantasy is a fine diversion but it's no replacement for actual life! The ending is pretty stark...the lead detective is now a widower and still an underemployed security guard.  His former police partner has gone insane and is now himself a white-haired mental patient at the very same hospital as the crazy old man who passed away.  Tsukiko has cut her hair and seems happier now, while the sleazy reporter is still scraping by, and the crooked, creepy pedo cop still looks after his amnesiac daughter who is spared the memory & knowledge of her father's creepy voyeurism towards her.  And oh yeah, this time around when said pedo cop was on his masked crime spree, I think he actually raped that girl....damn! I really enjoyed this re-watch and it very much deepened my appreciate of Satoshi Kon's work.  I could say so much more about Paranoia Agent but this will suffice for now.  Back to sleep everyone....

[loptyrs-moved]

Wilted Flowers and Jilted Lovers

Rating: Teen Word Count: 2,435 Pairing: Seth Hyde/Original Character Tags: complicated relationships, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, making out, aphrodisiac, hurt/comfort, angst

Original Post Date to AO3: 12/01/2019

Preview:  Gladiolus: Symbolizing strength and moral integrity; also represents passion and infatuation

They know how this goes, and it's always the same. They can't bring back the past. Their love is gone, and lost to memories. But Seth is a sucker... and he's absolutely hopeless. But so is she.

Sunset washed Cradle in rich red, purple and gold. The warm breath of summer had just ghosted over the land, bringing a heat in the breeze. Spring had been forgotten —as quickly as it came, it faded away. Seasons passed by.... just like fleeting affections of time passed.  The forest had been their place of solace — their oasis in the desert. A diamond in the rough. But not even the strongest of diamonds could withstand the fallout that came billowing over when everything fell to pieces. And since then, their place lost the magic it once had, even though it hadn’t changed much at all. The rocks were all the same. The magic crystals still grew plentifully amidst the trees.

And for several years, a pair of former lovers met here. They quarreled. They fought. They made love here… like time didn’t slip through the cracks of their fingers all those years ago. But old habits die hard. The setting sun washed over the land, streaking the cloudless sky with pink and orange against the cerulean blue. Hushed whispers echoed in the clearing. Rustling of leaves and the shuffling of feet made this forest a familiar scene between the two lovers. And like always, it hurt more than salt being rubbed in fresh wounds.

She was pinned against one of the trees, mind hazy, nerves singing from the overload of pleasure he gave her. It was sweet… and yet each kiss stung more than the last. Hands pulled at each other desperately trying to get closer without going too far. Fingers tangled in sky blue hair, pulling him deeper into their kiss. Lips and teeth spoke the truth of needing the other more than their next breaths.

“S-Seth… we… we shouldn’t be…” a breathless voice whispered as the man holding her in his arms pressed loving, tender kisses along her neck. His teeth nipped at her, leaving the most subtle of marks against her warm, russet brown skin. Sinewy, gloved fingers dug into the fabric of his black and blue military jacket as she tried her best to keep her balance, for her legs weakened from the impending threat of giving out from underneath her. She knew better. She knew better than to seek the Ten of Spades out, since the outcome of these encounters always ended up with one of them being on the other side of a blade. Or two.

It was always the same. Either one or both of them would be hurt.  Was this their punishment? Did the gods find them to be their tools of amusement? What sort of sin did they commit in the lives previous that they were doomed to continue this vicious cycle of heartbreak?

The graze of his teeth against her collarbone forced a soft moan to bubble from within her chest. “Seth…”

He pulled away for just a moment to meet her gaze. Melancholy swirled in her mismatched gold and brown eyes. They called for him. Yearned for him. The setting sun caught the specks of gold in her irises, dragging him further into their depths.  How he missed this — how he missed her. He missed the sensation of her skin flushed against his, and how her chopped, messy brown hair felt like between his fingers. How he yearned for her to be at his side once again.

But alas, such selfish wishes would never come to fruition.

No matter how many times he tried to push her memory out of his head, they seemed to always linger behind, tormenting him with sleepless nights and dreams of the love that escaped him.  It had been years since they parted ways. Three if anyone was counting. And in those three long, agonizing years, Seth never forgot the feelings he had for Camille Fontaine. Despite their turbulent history, he still loved her. He always would. Seth loved her more than anyone could even possibly begin to fathom.

Loving Camille was natural… like second nature. And he had a hard time kicking the habit of losing himself in the heated kisses they shared. It didn’t help that they met in the same place where vibrant red and orange gladiolus grew wild. They infected the air with their subtle scent as the wind spread their pollen across the land—a rare type of pollen that made even the most composed of people lose themselves to their most carnal desires. And the former lovers were no stranger to it.  

Camille and Seth knew this part of the forest like it was the back of their hands. It was a home to memories long passed. Wildflowers once grew in abundance here. A special breed of gladiolus  flourished here, making this place special. Magical even. However… like most spells, the magic fades away, leaving behind a gilded memory best left in the past. There was only the sun, shining its bright light of all the memories they should have left buried behind, casting a shadow of what they both had become now—a farce… and the angel of death.

Seth swallowed the lump that  formed in his throat. His hand cupped her cheek, caressing her. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said, his usual light, airy voice now hoarse with desire. There was a sadness that brewed behind twin hazel irises. “And I know yours haven’t either.” Her eyes avoided the earnest expression in his warm ones in fear that if she looked at him directly for too long, she would burst into tears.

Her heart screamed for her to tell him she felt the same, for it was the truth.

Camille never stopped loving Seth. How could she?

The love they have—had—was one that only came around once in a lifetime. But it was over… the moment she signed her life off to the most sadistic man in Cradle was the absolute breaking point. There was no way she could allow the man she loved for so long, and with every fibre of her being to be involved in the darkness than he already needed to be. She only did it to protect him. Why couldn’t he see that?

It was best if they forgot each other. It would have been better if they had never met.

But she knew it wasn’t what she really thought. She would have rather died knowing him for even just a moment than to live for centuries without meeting him at all.

She bit her lip, the sensitive skin threatening to split if she pressed her teeth down any harder. The taste of iron seeped into her mouth as blood oozed from the cracked skin. It was only to keep herself from letting the dams holding back a torrent of tears from splintering, and ultimately shattering.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Camille repeated, avoiding his gaze. Her voice was but a whisper, fearing that they would be overheard. “We shouldn’t. We can’t keep meeting like this, Hyde. ”

We don’t have the luxury to love each other anymore.

The cry of the birds echoed above as they flew above in the pink, twilit sky filled the air. They were free, soaring through the warm winds that carried them to places where it was warmer, and safer than where the lovers lost were. The sound of Seth Hyde’s heart shattering into a million pieces was like a bullet cutting through the air before it pierced its target, lodging itself deep within the flesh, and muscle as it bled with no mercy. Love was merciless. Cruel. It tore people apart. Poets sang of how it conquered all, while it was the reasons why nations went to war with each other. Love was blood splattered across the battlefield. Love was the harsh and deafening clang of swords clashing as steel met. Whoever said it would overcome any sort of conflict was a liar. A fake. A fraud. Just like the Ten of Spades.

And yet… he couldn’t help but tilt her head up to meet his tired eyes. The hint of a smile flashed in his sad, hazel irises. A thumb stroked her scarred cheek slowly. Lovingly. “You always say that, Cami. But you were also here waiting for me, weren’t you?” A hand took hers in his and squeezed. gently. Seth’s ached, and heart bled every time he and his former beloved met like this. He wasn’t a masochist, but living a life without Camille in it pained him more than anything. It nearly killed him to see her on the other side of him, threatening to kidnap the Alice that had fallen from the stars and landed in the middle of their pathetic war. To see the one he called his love fight in his name was a punishment worse than death itself.

Yet he still sought her out, wanting to rekindle things—to fix things. There was a part of them that desperately wanted things and people they couldn’t have. But just like her, he wasn’t immune to that man’s reach. Seth Hyde was caught in a vicious whirlpool, and there was no way out. They used him just as they used her for their biddings, whether it was under the guise of being a carefree and high-ranking military officer, or an assassin whose only home was in the shadows. They were two sides of the same coin, and the Jabberwock was the one deciding which one would be the other’s demise.

They could be each other’s ruin if he so wished it to be.

Camille chewed the inside of her cheek. She withdrew her hand from his. Gold and brown eyes grew cold as the sun disappeared off beyond the horizon. Night was approaching, and neither one of them could be caught out here, reliving memories that should have been discarded many years ago.

“You know why I’m here. You missed your check-ins with Dalim the last two times he came looking for you,” she said, her words sharp like the tip of her sword. “And it’s getting old.”

Seth winced. She straightened herself and slipped from his arms. The dark look on her face was one that he had grown accustomed to in recent times. The ray of hope was gone from her eyes, leaving icy cynicism in its place. “You’re wasting everyone’s time, and he’s not pleased about it. You’ve grown sloppy, Hyde, and it’s been ever since you’ve joined that little army of yours.”

Each word was a dagger, cutting into him, stabbing him — leaving his scar-ridden heart bleeding. His brain screamed for him to take her back in his arms, and hold her tight so that she wouldn’t slip away from him again. He couldn’t bear the idea of the one he called his beloved serve that sadistic monster like she was personal attack dog. But what could Seth Hyde protect? Who? He couldn’t even keep his dear sister out of their clutches, so what made him think that he could keep Camille out of their grasp.

She was too hot headed for her own good, and one day, she would fly too close to the sun and fall headfirst into her own demise. But she didn’t want his help. Camille was just as stubborn as he was. It was the reason why he loved her so much… and why he was so reluctant to let her go.

“Cami… I…”

She took a step forward, giving him a murderous glare. She slipped past him, putting a distance between them. Her hand slipped into his coat pocket, and took his written report that was long overdue, slipping another in its place. “So I suggest you get your head out of the clouds and do your job instead of fooling around. Time is of the essence. Don’t forget who you really work for, Ten of Spades.”

Words were stuck in his throat. This wasn’t the first time Camille broke his heart, but it still tore him to shreds nonetheless. He couldn’t even cry, no matter how choked up he was. Nails bit into the skin of his hand, drawing blood. He wanted to argue back with her, but how could he when he knew she was right? It would be futile now. So he remained silent as he watched Camille walk to the far end of the clearing.

“He’ll be expecting an update in the next two weeks,” Camille said nonchalantly, casting a last glance at the man she once loved. And in her eyes, Seth saw tears. If she stayed any longer, there would be no telling what would happen next. They could end up in each other’s arms… or at the opposite end of blades — like it had been for six long, painful, heart-wrenching years. But time was of the essence. And their employer was an impatient man.

“Don’t disappoint him. ”

Seth Hyde stood alone as he watched Camille disappear between the gnarled trees and all their hideous branches. Twilight blanketed Cradle. The moon was rising from where the sun sank, casting her glow on the land. The subtle scent of the gladiolus filled Seth’s nose. And it made him feel sick to his stomach. Acid rose in his throat as his chest throbbed painfully. This place was tainted. Tainted by greed. Sullied by a toxin that choked the life out of everything it touched.

He couldn’t stand to be there any longer… leaving it behind in the past… where it belonged. Tears threatened to fall as all those memories came crashing down on him with no mercy, like an avalanche. He grit his teeth. Damn it. Damn that bastard who held those he loved in the palm of his hand, threatening to crush them whenever he felt like it.

Seth shoved his hands in his pockets and a shaky exhale shook through him when he noticed a scrap of paper in his pocket. It was torn. The late report was taken by Camille when she left him in the dust, but this wasn’t part of it. And when Seth pulled it out, his eyes widened. His legs felt weak as he read the scrawl on the slip. The dams were destroyed. Tears ran down his handsome face. Hazel eyes were puffy and red, and were blinded by the torrent of overwhelming dread and fear as the words branded his brain.

He knows about us… and he’s watching. So please… let me go, so that I can let you go too. Please Seth, if you love me, forget about me. Hate me if you must. But let go of me so that I don’t hurt you anymore. Please…

[anarcoqueer1994]

Scary Movies

A tiny ficlet about a Wes Craven movie night(He's from Cleveland, so I gotta represent) TJ hates scary movies but its Halloween and Cyrus loves them.

Bonus notes that have no impact on the story but are true in the universe of the story.

TJ is Trans

So is Marty

Also Jeed rights

TJ hates scary movies. He hates the gore. He hates the jump scares. He hates the grotesque villains who lurk in the shadows of every scary movie. He hates the tense, unnerving, music signaling that one of the characters was about to meet their demise. He hates the blood splatters. He hates the ear-piercing scream let out by some terrified teenage girl. But most of all, he hates feeling scared. He doesn’t like that feeling of vulnerability. Unfortunately,  that is the exact reason he cannot admit to anyone that he does like them. He hasn’t even told Cyrus. He felt like a wimp. He doesn’t want anyone to know that tough, “lives on the edge”, TJ Kippen is terrified of horror films.

Cyrus on the other hand LOVES scary movies. He geeks out over the work and cinema magic that goes into them. Scary movies are a way to face fear without actually being in danger. Cyrus, who admittedly is always anxious about something bad happening, could take solace in the pretend horror in the films.  TJ, for his part, has managed to avoid watching them with Cyrus up until now. But it is October and he knew he didn’t have an option to avoid them anymore. Last Halloween he manage to avoid them but knew he could not pull that off again without anyone get suspicous. Cyrus had invited everyone over to his house for a classic slasher marathon that weekend. TJ had no good excuse to not come and he obviously did not want to tell Cyrus he was afraid.  So he resided himself to going and hoping that he could hide how scared he was.

The night of, TJ of course got there first to help Cyrus set up. He knows how particular his boyfriend is when it comes to parties, even if it was just a movie night with their friends. As they lined pillows on the floor in front of the couch and set out bowls of snacks, TJ asks "So Cy, what movies do you have planned?" He tries to keep his voice casual. In reality, he was just getting himself ready.

Cyrus smiles, "Well I thought we could do a Wes Craven themed night. We'll start with A Nightmare on Elm Street, obviously. Then I was thinking Scream, and finally The Hills Have Eyes."

"Oh, okay. " He tries to say cooly.

"I know they are kind of campy and outdated, not really the terror fest to write home about. But like I thought they would be fun." Cyrus defends thinking TJ wasn't impressed with the lineup.

In reality, he was so nervous because he has never seen any of these movies. Yea, of course he has heard of Freddy Kruger and Ghostface because who hasn't? But he has never sat down to watch them. He really hates being scared. But he just gives Cyrus a big smile and lies through his teeth. "Sounds good, Underdog."

After a while the rest of their friends show up and get settled in. Amber and Andi snuggle together on the oversized chair. Buffy and Marty are sitting on the floor already seeing who can catch the most popcorn in their mouths. Jonah and Reed join Buffy and Marty on the floor laughing at their friends' antics. That leaves Cyrus and TJ the couch. TJ sits down and after Cyrus turns off the lights and starts the first movie, he moves to cuddle next to his boyfriend, throwing a blanket over them, his head resting on TJ's shoulder.

TJ watches as his friends all indulge in the familiar plot. It seems like everyone has seen it before, no one flinching when Tina's bloody body is thrown across the room. But TJ hates it. He wants to cover his face but doesn't want to give away his secret. He hopes to God that no one noticed when he would jump or flinch whenever Freddy did something new.

But Cyrus notices. He whispers too quietly for anyone else to hear. "You okay, Teej?"

TJ gives a stiff nod, not removing his eyes from the gore on the screen in front of him, worried that Cyrus will know the truth if he looks at him.

But Cyrus already could tell the truth. TJ was not having a good time. He wasn't enjoying being terrified. But he could also tell that TJ was never going to admit it, being too "tough" for that. So he gets an idea.

He whispers his lie. "My neck is getting tired from laying like this. Can we switch positions, Teej?"

"Uh..." the blonde stutters. "Yea of course."

They quietly get up, careful not to disturb the other kids. Cyrus moved so he sat against the arm of the couch. TJ, instead of putting his head on Cyrus' shoulder, lays it on the brunette's lap.

So as the movie played on, Cyrus stroked TJ's hair, or would rest a hand on the jock's shoulder whenever he would feel him tense up at a scary part. Of course Cyrus never said out loud that he knew TJ was scared. It was more like an unspoken understanding.

Nevertheless, Cyrus settles into a comfortable pattern of playing with the fluffy blonde locks that laid on his lap. TJ eventually not even flinching at the terrifying images that played before him. It doesn't take Cyrus long to realize why. His boyfriend fell asleep. He smiles to himself, lazily stroking the sleeping boys head as he continues to watch the film, not bothering to wake him up. He was pretty sure TJ would be fine missing the rest.

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

Big Ups: Clipping Pick Their Bandcamp Favorites

“Right from the beginning, we always wanted to make a horror-themed record,” says Jonathan Snipes, a producer in the Los Angeles-based progressive noise-rap trio Clipping, alongside MC Daveed Diggs and fellow beatsmith Bill Hutson. The group’s third project for Sub Pop, There Existed an Addiction to Blood, updates the cult horrorcore hip-hop trend of the mid ‘90s in a thrilling and forward-thinking fashion. It’s a striking and deeply atmospheric record, powered by synth-based sonic experimentalism and grisly concept-focused writing that exudes a sinister and shadowy feel.

There Existed an Addiction to Blood adds to a stellar canon of work that kicked off with Clipping’s introductory midcity mixtape in 2013. “That one was really us learning how to be Clipping, and what we sounded like,” says Hutson, who helped mastermind the project’s metallic, glitch-afflicted beats. On the following year’s debut album, CLPPNG, the crew moved further towards what Hutson calls “dark and noise-tinged instrumentals.” The omission of the letter I in the album title represents the way Diggs avoids rhyming in the first person. Hutson maintains that if much of hip-hop involves MCs rapping about their own lives, Clipping’s music strives to be “a novel, not a memoir.” Case in point: 2016’s Splendor & Misery took shape as an Afrofuturist sci-fi adventure that explored an artificial intelligence world; 2017’s single “The Deep” inspired the author Rivers Solomon to expand the song’s environment into a novella of the same name.

Basing There Existed an Addiction to Blood around horrorcore and gory movies is a natural representation of Clipping’s influences and the way the trio approach writing songs. “Horrorcore is this forgotten and maligned subgenre of hip-hop that we’ve always had a tremendous amount of affection for,” says Hutson. “So much of Clipping is about referencing styles of hip-hop—almost all our songs were conceived as our take on a certain type of rap song—so this horror album was always going to happen.” Snipes adds, “We think of each of these songs as self-contained movie scores of vignettes in a specific genre.”

The original horrorcore movement that inspired Clipping’s latest album was spearheaded by RZA and Prince Paul’s Gravediggaz project, plus artists including Houston’s Ganksta N-I-P, Detroit’s Esham, and New York City’s Flatlinerz. ‘90s horrorcore lyrics were packed with macabre imagery and references to psychological disorders, satanism, and cannibalism; the gruesome verses were often relayed over willfully dank and grimey production. Clipping’s resurrection of the subgenre taps into the same lyrical themes—but this time Digg’s intense verses are backed by marauding waves of monstrous synths, sharp abrasive stabs of discordant noise, and snatches of field recordings that bring a chilling realism to There Existed an Addiction to Blood.

Key song “Run For Your Life” plays out like a frantic short movie. It co-stars Memphis MC La Chat, who used to roll with Three 6 Mafia and the Hypnotize Minds roster back in the ‘90s. “She’s hunting down Daveed and approaching and moving behind him in a car,” says Snipes. “Then in the third verse, we’re fully in the car with her.” To drum up the effect of the protagonist being chased to a bloody demise, Digg’s lyrics are surrounded by constantly shifting ambient noise: The sound of passing cars blasting music and dogs barking literally pulls the listener into the chilling scenario.

The same blend of adventurous production techniques and concept-heavy writing present on Clipping’s latest album also runs through Hutson and Snipes’s Bandcamp recommendations. Blasts of abstract hip-hop lyricism mix with innovative thematic albums and avant-garde film scores, adding up to a smart representation of Clipping’s advanced-level musical DNA.

Bill Hutson

Dax Pierson - Live In Oakland

I first saw Dax Pierson play around 2003, when he was in a group called Subtle that was an Anticon side project with Dose One and Jel. Dax was also the secret weapon of the Themselves project, which was also Dose and Jel, and on tour he’d play keys and finger drum on MPCs. Dax is this compelling, creative performer and composer. This tape came out on Ratskin and it’s from a more recent show—I might have even been at the show! His music is fascinating, almost uncategorizable left-field dance stuff that’s blending all these ideas.

John Wall - Hylic

I was really enamored of improvised music in the early ‘00s, and it’s a lot of what fueled my ravenous collector habit, which came from having to track down these obscure records that came from Japan and Germany and Switzerland and England, where they were only pressing a couple of hundred copies. John Wall is very careful as a computer music composer, and he’d spend years and years cutting up tiny pieces of improvised sounds and turning them into these totally austere and totally alien compositions. I was fascinated by the disparity between how much intention there was behind it and how alien the result sounds. Hylic almost sounds like there’s no human brain making logical choices that would compose this music—it feels like it’s naturally occurring in some way, like you’re listening to the background radiation of the solar system—but there’s also the most extreme version of authorship going into it.

billy woods - Hiding Places

I think billy woods is a fantastic example of this very abstract and angular and strange rapper but with these really strong connections to the history of New York rap. It’s almost like he’s from a different timeline where southern hip-hop didn’t take over the mainstream in the ‘00s and we kept going with Nas and Wu-Tang, and it’s developed into this new form. [Producer] Kenny Segal is a buddy—we’ve toured with him—and he would have been a youngster in the Project Blowed days but came out of the experimental L.A. hip-hop scene that produced Abstract Rude and Freestyle Fellowship and, later with the beatmakers, birthed the whole Low End Theory and Brainfeeder movement. This album is a New York and L.A. collab record that seems to perfectly synthesize two different types of left of center aesthetics, but feels completely natural in a way we wouldn’t have expected maybe 20 years ago.

Kevin Drumm - 09082001 gtr​/​synth ‘solo’

I included this not because anyone needs me to tell them Kevin Drumm is a fuckin’ noise hero, but I wanted to include Drumm because I think what he’s doing is a really unique thing that Bandcamp can provide: A couple of months ago I bought Drumm’s entire discography for like $22, which was like a hundred or so releases! He puts out so much, and it’s all of such high quality. This specific recording is from my favorite period of his work in the early-2000s, but it wasn’t available [back then] until he started bypassing labels and physical copies and started putting everything up himself direct to the fans.

DEBBY FRIDAY - DEATH DRIVE

[The label] Deathbomb Arc put out some of the first Clipping stuff. I think of [founder] Brian Miller as A&Ring my listening habits because he’s out there finding new artists I wouldn’t come across and putting out their records. DEBBY FRIDAY completely blew me away—this release seems both out of nowhere and so fully formed. It’s just brilliant and sort of industrial hip-hop. It’s really like the best Skinny Puppy album we never got but with way better lyrics and content and performance. It’s so smart and dark—she’s a really great lyricist.

Jonathan Snipes

Missincinatti - remove not the ancient landmarks

Missincinatti was Jeremy Drake, Jessica Catron, and Corey Fogel, and they had this band for a short time in L.A. where they played these contemporary arrangements of sea shanties. They’re all incredible musicians, and their arrangements were always so off-kilter and smart. This album is only on Bandcamp, and it’s like a little monument to this band that I loved so much for a short time. One of my favorite things is arrangements of folk music that almost feel like critical theory about folk music and this project feels like it’s in this realm. I wish they were still around playing shows so I could go to them.

François-Eudes Chanfrault - Inside

I discovered François-Eudes Chanfrault when I saw the movie for which this is the score. Then, when I started looking into François’s music, I realized that I’d run across him in online nerdy computer music circles. He became one of my favorite composers, and I became obsessed with tracking his music down. The development of the Inside score is really slow and tasteful, and that’s hard to accomplish when working with film. I also score movies, and film music always feels like if the music’s following a picture. It wants to be fast and have abrupt changes—but François is someone who is somehow able to make these really long elegant cues that actually play against the action of the film in this really striking way. It’s probably the last score I’d expect anybody to write for that movie, and it hits exactly the right tone. His use of electronics and computers and his use of a chamber ensemble are perfectly matched.

Lauren Bousfield - Fire Songs

Lauren’s a really good friend, and this album’s only available on Bandcamp. She’s an incredible musician—an absolute genius. This is the album she released shortly after her house burned down and she lost all her possessions in the fire. It feels very personal. It’s easy to think of electronic and breakcore as just splattered breakbeats that feel mechanical and machine-based. But this one, with the context [of the backstory], feels very emotional, and almost makes me tear up when I hear it.

Bryce Miller - W A S P

Bryce Miller is someone I found through some Bandcamp journalism, which I read regularly. This album, which is based on the Stieg Larsson Millennium books, is elegant and precise. There’s a lot of this retro ’80s synthwave stuff flying around—I’ve made a fair bit of it myself—but somehow this really nailed the tone of feeling very contemporary, but also very ancient. It’s like what I wanted synth records in the ’80s to sound like at the time, but they never quite did. The sense of melody and structure and tension and release is really spot on. Bryce feels like a real composer in that realm.

Max Tundra - With Love To Mummy

I first heard Max Tundra on the double disc compilation Tigerbeat6 Inc. from like 2001. I was really into Aphex Twin and Squarepusher and Kid606 and Matmos, and I was trying to figure out who was doing weird electronic music and that comp came out and it ended up being a huge window into bands I’d never heard of. Max Tundra’s track [“The Bill”] sounded like a general MIDI soundtrack to a spy show that he’d recorded into his answering machine! I’ve been a lifelong fan of his since then, and this collection is, like, his teenage recordings—it’s really interesting to hear his old music. It’s charming and fun to listen to as a fan, and to note where his music took him after that. I suppose other people feel the same way about that Radiohead release.

[irelia-ad]

Story: Shackled Resolve

A story thought up, written and edited all in one sitting late at night! So it will be Shakespeare.

Though there was a slight rush to get this one done for an event based around it. Also whilst I was in a focused mood to get everything done, which I may not have been tomorrow and might have just abandoned it.

Anyway, enjoy. 

Drip… drip… drip… Such represent the monotonous tone that penetrated the dismal room where silence dominated. A room which rests in darkness. One cracked window sits uneasily at the top of the dank wall, washing moonlight onto the soaked stone. The light bounces in small rays around the top of the room, illuminating the space in its sickly green glow. The walls themselves reflected the consistent sickly look. Dark, stained with moss and damp from the constant rainfall. Faint clinks pierce the grave silence as the bindings suspending Knight-Master Sunglance in the air shift with her movements. Her eyes follow the Kul’tiran interrogator who prowls around her in a circle under the erroneous assumption that the darkness will hide their aggressive movements. The faint green glow of the taint that occupies the elf’s eyes radiate into the darkness, her eyes more than well adjusted to it by now. Irelia’s thoughts briefly move back onto the previous three deaths of the prison guards, one of which she was directly responsible for. A violent death she managed to stage and blame on the unfortunate prisoner that occupied the same room at the time. Another dead human whose demise was brought on by the Knight-Master’s pent-up wrath. The interrogation at that time proved also to be a failure. But it was not allowed time to fully manifest into what they assumed would be effective methods of harvesting information. This time however, there will be no escape. Pain was first administered in the form of a whip. Severe cracks like rapid thunder echoed off of the walls of the small chamber as the cracked leathers of the weapon struck upon Irelia’s back. The burning pain instantly rushed from her back, spreading through her body like a crackling fire. She had consumed days, possibly over a week trapped within this filthy prison now. Herself and members of The Sanguine Eye being subjected to all manors of barbarous cruelties in the name of bleeding sensitive information out of them. Some suffered more than others. The sadistic guards have up to this point, been selective on who they strike, using the weakest or most liked as tools to try to break those in power or of fierce will. Irelia is no stranger to torture. No stranger to harsh methods or the needs to perform anything within her power to gain what she needs. She recognizes these will be the same things that drive the prison guards as they roam, intoxicated by ruthless power, free to brutally abuse any they see fit. Some have become frustrated at Irelia’s obstinate silence now. All efforts to gain information out of her have got them nothing more than silence. The only words being offered are answers to questions unrelated to anything of use. Irelia reluctantly obeys in all ways to avert trouble. However, her will never breaks. Her composure never gets reduced. Only anger seeps out of the vicious cracks of her formality as poor living conditions test her patience. 

-Crack-

The searing pain as the whip strikes again refocuses the Knight-Master’s mind. This time they are after information about the two guards that died the previous day. The interrogator in question also confessed as she was being bound, that he knows she murdered the last guard who attempted interrogation and a confession would be focused. -Crack- The tatters of ragged clothing she wears now slowly rip, the exposed skin of her back goes red raw from the lashing. -Crack- Tension washes through her aching body as the raw flesh slowly tears, dirt and torn rags slowly binding with the blood now oozing slowly from her back. -Crack- This time, the interrogator finally begins speaking bitterly. “You have delivered us nothing in return for our hospitality. You will tearfully confess your crimes to me, then you will communicate to us what our leaders have been demanding.” -Crack- Most of the used cloth on her back now hangs down, irretrievably ruined and useless as the whip tears through it. Irelia’s eyes remain locked onto the floor. Her parched mouth opened ever so slightly to breath sharper breaths, her body sore and uncomfortable as the chains dig into her wrists and ankles. The interrogator finally steps into the dull light, where they can clearly be perceived. Their gruff and deep voice already indicated they are male. They stand comfortably at about average height for what Irelia has seen of the Kul’tirans so far. They wear fair clothing that has seen much use since it was last cleaned. Dirt and blood lay as stains splattered up and down their form. Dirt on their face mixes in with the gruff stubble of a bearded and sits smeared on the side of their crooked nose. The whipping has failed. The interrogator can identify this through his dark gaze that his methods so far hasn’t got the attention of his prisoner at all. There is a snap and crank of levers and an eruption of metal chain shifting as the Knight-Master feels her head spin as her whole body turns to hang facing upwards towards the sky. Before much more thought could be put into it, a wretched smelling cloth clings itself around the face of the Knight-Master, causing her to quickly suck in air. She holds her breath as water starts saturating the cloth. The sensation is that of being smothered as she fights to keep her breath in. The overwhelming sensation of drowning quickly sets in following the initial displeasure. Every reflex in her body kicks in. The harsh sounds of chains overwhelmingly dominate the air once again as she thrashes around. The foul water continues to come, Irelia’s lungs give up holding in the air they keep as it sputters out through the wet cloth. “Speak, witch. You live for a terribly long time. Generations of Kul’tirans will attend to this so long as you withhold what you know from us. What are the plans of the Blood Knights? What part do they carry out in the protection of your lands and to what capacity?” Irelia’s instinct to avoid pain squeezes her with a sense of dread at the thought of being trapped within the walls of this dungeon for the number of years used to count generations of humans. Her pride as a Master of the Hall of Blood and a defender of Silvermoon combat this sense of dread. But deep down, it is the thought of her family which will forever tie her mouth closed. Irelia will endure everything this man has to offer if it stops the memories of the third war being repeated with her playing the role of betrayer. Never will her children remember her as the coward who broke and doomed them all.

Several gruelling hours have passed. The water torture has been maintained given how the Kul’tirans allegedly possess an affinity for water. The violent pain becomes severe as the interrogator’s pent-up frustration grows explosively after hours of vainly trying to get information, only to be inevitably met with stone dead silence. Every question asked about the weaknesses of the High Home or The Sanguine Eye gone unanswered. No confession provided for the brutal murder of any of the guards.

Water turns back into whips. Whips into chains being extended almost to the breaking point of her bruised limbs. The clasps fall off when the Knight-Master can no longer stand as the Kul’tiran concludes his failed objective with a brutal delivery of vicious kicks and punches. Irelia’s return to her filthy cell is one of being forcibly dragged through the prison to be dumped on the floor and left. Blood and dirt stained her bruised form. Swelling and black marks appear over her skin where harsh impacts have been made against it. Her mind clouds with pain and destructive fury. Irelia’s resolve is one of the few things in her possession that is still healthy. She sternly refuses to break for these pathetic excuses of dull life. She is superior to them all. And one day they will suffer severely the terrible wrath of a Master of the Hall of Blood.

[drpaulmacdonaldrnma]

The Slaying of Jezebel By Jehu Who Was an Israeli Army Officer

Dr Paul MacDonald RN MA Dipl

Jezebel meets her demise at the hands of Jehu, her own eunuchs, a team of horses, and a pack of dogs—it takes a lot to kill a queen.

Jezebel the Sidonian Tart

When she hears of Jehu’s arrival in Jezreel, she arranges her hair and paints her eyes, and tarts herself up, actions that are often seen as being sexually suggestive.

The Proud and Arrogant Tart

However, these acts are those of a "proud", "arrogant", and "powerful" queen. She arrays herself in full royal splendor and stands at the window to await the usurper. The idea that these acts are more about political power than sexual seduction is confirmed by her words to Jehu when he arrives at the gate. She throws out a taunt: “Is it peace, Zimri, murderer of your master?”

The Sidonian Tart Taunts Jehovah's Anointed One

Her reference is to the earlier coup of Zimri, who killed King Elah and all of the other claimants to the throne (1 Kings 16:8-14). Her statement may also be a curse meant to thwart the success of Jehu’s insurrection, since Zimri ruled for only one week before he too became the victim of political violence (1 Kings 16:15-20).

Jezebel’s last words are clearly meant not to entice but to deride Jehu; her last beautifying acts can be understood in the same way.

The Servants of the Sidonian Tart

Jehu responds, “Who is on my side?” Responding to his call, Jezebel’s own eunuchs throw her out the window, her blood splattering as she hits the ground. Jehu’s now bespattered horses then trample her.

The Death of the Sidonian Tart and Gods She Serves

The image of an adorned woman at a window suggests not only royal power but also goddesses (especially Hathor, Asherah, and Astarte), who are also depicted looking out windows. In this way, the death of Jezebel is not just the death of a Phoenician princess who became queen of Israel, but also the symbolic death of the goddesses she worships and represents. It is not enough simply to kill her; she must be violently expelled from the political and religious community.

Jezebel’s body mangled and lifeless, Jehu goes inside for dinner. Almost as an afterthought, he commands her burial. But while he has been inside eating, the dogs outside are feasting as well—on Jezebel’s body. Dogs are powerful symbols in Canaanite religion, especially associated with the goddesses Anat and Astarte and the god Baal. There is a deep irony here.

The Sidonian Tart Destroyed by Her Own Gods

She who was devoted to these deities is devoured by them, all to the triumph of Israel. Only her palms, feet, and skull remain. A further reference to Anat may explain why only these fragments of her body are unconsumed. According to Canaanite mythology, Anat wore a necklace and belt of human skulls and hands. The religious rituals and images of ancient Near Eastern religions are inverted, perverted, and overturned in the death of Jezebel.

Dogs Feed From Flesh and Blood of the Sidonian Tart

Consumed by animals, Jezebel becomes an animal; her dehumanization is complete. She is a foreign woman, a powerful queen, and a worshiper of deities other than Yahweh.

Sidonian Tart Transgressed Gender Roles

She is ethnically and religiously different, transgresses proper gender roles, and is therefore a danger. The death and destruction of Jezebel eradicates the other in order to protect and preserve the proper Israelite community.

A Stark Warning Example

A warning for all Jezebel type characters that think they are beyond the grasp of God.

Like God used Jehu, an Army Officer, he can use anyone he desires to perform his will. He can, and he will purge any political leaders from the community for the good and protection of others. He can do it from the inside, or from without, and no one will escape punishment whatsoever when he does.

Dr Paul MacDonald RN MA Dipl

Israel Institute of Biblical Studies