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alpaca-clouds · 12 days ago

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Dead Gods in Mythology

Okay, another little write up that has been requested. (Note, yes, you can send me requests for mythological and historical contexts. I love talking about this stuff. Just send a DM or Ask, and I will see to it when I get time.)

This came from a discussion about Sekhmet in season 2 in Nocturne, where someone brought up: "Well, she cannot really have been a goddess if she died." And of course I had to go: "Well, actually..." At this. It ended with me promising a write up on this.

See, this is an idea that is prevasive in western culture, and gets brought up again and again in media: Gods don't bleed, and gods don't die. It has been brought up in The Road to El Dorado, The Epic Musical, and in Kaos. But this idea is actually mainly rooted in - drum roll please - Christianity of course. With the Christian God being a single god, who is supposed to be all mighty and eternal. Polytheistic cultures meanwhile tend to have a couple of gods who within the mythology die. Sure, some of them are revived by some sort of magic - or continue to exist in another plane (in those cases often becoming the guardians of some sort of plane of the dead, where all dead souls go) - but yes, the polytheistic mythologies that we know off tend to have at least one god who dies.

So, let's talk about some of them.

Given our starting point is Sekhmet, let's start with the Egyptian mythology. Here we have two big examples of gods that prominently die.

One example of this is obviously Ra. Ra's entire thing is that he does not only die in the mythology, but that he dies ONCE A DAY, which was the Egyptian mythology's explanation for why there is night and day. Ra dies at the end of the day, and he moved through the duat during the night. This is in fact part of the reason why we know so many details about the duat, as those are described in several mythological texts about Ra's journey through the world of the dead.

Of course, this might be strange example, because Ra obviously gets revived daily, too, but that does not change the fact that he dies once a day. And for a good chunk of Egyptian history (please keep in mind that Egyptian religion shifted during the 3000 years that Ancient Egypt was around) Ra was one of the most powerful gods in their pantheon so to speak.

Osiris

Then Egyptian mythology has probably one of the best known examples of a god getting killed. And that is Osiris. Like almost all of the old mythologies, the Egyptian deities were a lot into siblings marrying. And in Egyptian mythology there were noticable four siblings: Osiris, Isis, Seth and Nephthys - the latter getting usually ignored by modern audiences for some reason.

Osiris married Isis, Seth married Nephthys. And of course, as it goes with godly siblings, Osiris and Seth had a lot of quarelling and rivalry going. Seth - of course - being a god of the desert and chaos. And eventually Seth manages to trap Osiris and kill him. Now, the details of this have shifted once more throughout Egyptian history. In some variations they aphyxiate him, in others Osiris gets hacked into 26 pieces. One way or another, Isis will look for her dead brother-husband, find his corpse or his corpse parts, revive him, get pregnant with Horus, and then they find out that because he was dead he has to become now the god of the dead, being turned into the god overseeing the souls moving into the afterlife.

Baldr

Then there is of course the myth of Baldr in Norse mythology. Another son of Odin and Frigg. And it was said that Baldr was the most beautiful of all the gods. And Frigg loved him so much, that she went around the world and made everything - every stone, every animal and every plant - promise that they would never hurt him. However, she did not get to ask the mistletoe, and Loki noticed this. And being the trickster that he is, he devised a plan. He tricks the blind god Höðr to shoot a mistletoe arrow at Baldr, which then obviously kills him. In the prose Edda this is the reason for Loki's punishment with the acid spitting serpent.

Baldr of course moves onto Hella - the place, not the goddess - and remains there.

It should be noted of course that in the Edda we also know that most of the gods eventually die during Ragnarök. Though this is also where we should note, that the Edda are of course a source that we should use with some care, given that it is not a first hand account by Norse people, but was written up by Christian monks. (Most notable, a lot of researchers doubt by now that Loki ever was an actual god in Norse mythology, but was invented by Christians to fill the roll of a satan-like figure.)

Zagreus

Where are my Hades peeps at? If you have played Hades, you obviously know that Zagreus has this habit of dying and coming back. And this game mechanic is actually based in mythology.

And this is the moment where we should speak about one important fact: We tend to act as if we know everything there is to know about Greek mythology, but actually we do not know this. We know a lot about the most important gods, because we have several written sources about this - but when it comes to smaller or local gods, we absolutely are loosely informed, given we often only have text fragments. At times several text fragments that are contradictory. Zagreus is one of these.

Zagreus is either an alternative name for Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Persephone, or the son of Hades. The latter aspect has been tried to explain by researchers with the fact that we are not sure if the three big gods (Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades) were always distinct entities or might have been for a long while different aspects of the same god.

One way or another: We have at least two different text fragments, in which Zagreus dies. Once he gets murdered by Titans, once he dies in an accident. One way or another he dies. And in the cases where he is a son of Zeus, this seems to be the explanation why he is bound to the Underworld.

The Hades game kinda mixed and matched with the mythology there xD

Lugh

There I go again, talking about another mythology that we are actually not quite as certain about as some people seem to believe we are: Gaelic mythology. Once more, our issue is that while some of this was written down, it was written down after the region had been Christianized, so there is a lot of Christian bias in those texts. In fact it is even more clear in this example, given that the written down accounts of the Gaelic mythology involve references to biblical events. And of course the Tuatha de Danann are in the written down accounts references more as amazing humans, rather than gods - though we are fairly certain they originally were deities, with Lugh in particilar being a god of justice and war.

In the variations of the story we know, Lugh kills another god named Carmait, as that other god had fucked one of Lugh's wives. And in revenge Carmait's sons end up killing Lugh, by spearing him on his own magic spear and then throwing him into one of the Lochs. So, yes, if you count, this story in fact involves two dead gods. Generally speaking, quite a few of the Tuatha de Danann end up dead, though, again, I will point out, that we are not fully sure how much of this is routed in the fact that these myths were recorded by later Christians, who might have wanted to make sure that everyone understands that the Tuatha de Danann were not actually gods.

Izanami

Technically we actually have a variety of Shinto gods (aka kami) who die. But I will focus maybe on the most widely known story, that pretty much everyone who ever played Persona might be aware of: Izanami. And if I recount the tale, you might in fact feel strangely reminded of other myths.

Izanami and Izanagi were the first kami that were created, and they created the land, and then the world around it, through the act of procreation with one another. Eventually Izanami gives birth to the fire god Kagu-tsuchi and he burns her to death. Her remains are buried, but the grief-stricken Izanagi cannot be without her. So he travels to the underworld, Yomi. Eventually he finds Izanami, but she tells him that she can no longer leave the underworld, as she has already eaten from the food of the underworld. He tries to convince her, but eventually he sees her face and realized that she has the face of death, and flees in terror. She gets angry at this, and curses him and the land of the living, before she remains in Yomi as the goddess of the dead.

Vritra

Vritra in Hindu mythology is one of the danava and serves as the personification of drought. In the mythology he once tries to block a river, of course with this causing a drought. The other gods cannot stand by this, and Indra, who sees Vritra as his nemesis, ends up slaying Vritra to stop the drought.

Note, here, too, that there are a couple of deities in Hinduism - as well as the religions that sprung off of Hinduism - that die at least for a shorter while.

If you have ever had the fun of talking to one of the very annoying atheists, you might have heard someone pointing out that Krishna dies and is resurrected in a way that is quite similar to Jesus. Because, yes, this general mythological concept is assumed to probably go back to the progenitor religion of the Indo-European cultures. While we do not know anything about that religion (because back then nobody wrote anything), anthropologists and comparative mythology researchers are fairly sure that there was a tale of a god dying and returning from the dead in that religion as well, which is why it shows up so often in religions of that cultural sphere.

Innana & Dumuzid

Now let's talk about another really old mythology, about which we know surprisingly much, because they have written a lot down - and we were able to translate it. And that is the ancient Sumerian mythology, in which we have Innana or Ishtar (who in Egyptian mythology later became Isis). Again, due to these also being within the realm of the Indo-European mythologies, you will find some similarities - though in comparison to other goddesses in the same role, Innana is a lot more proactive.

Innana is convinced by her brother to marry the shepard god Dumuzid, though it is fairly clear through the poems we have, that she and her husband never quite saw eye to eye. This makes her death also quite interesting. Because Innana dies by her own volition, because her sister Ereshkigal, who was made the goddess of the dead, misuses her position. So Innana dies to be able to travel to the Underworld and fight Ereshkigal to dethrone her. Enki at this point helps Innana to flee the Underworld and return to the world of the living. However, there needs to be balance in the world. So if she returns to the world of a living, someone else needs to take her place in the Underworld.

As she returns to the world of the living, she sees her servants having mourned her, while her husband, Dumuzid, just instantly went: "I am a widower? Sweet! I can fuck around with servant girls now!" And as we say: Fuck around and find out. So Innana goes: "That asshole has not even the decency to act as if he is mourning me!" So he tells the spirits of the Underworld to take him to take her place. And so they do and kill him.

Good for her!

Quetzacóatl

The very attentive of you might have noticed that all myths I have talked about so far (with the exception of Izanami, where anthropologists and comparative mythology people are still arguing about whether or not there was an influence there - mind you, I land very much on the side of "Yes, obviously, there is an Indo-European influence to Shinto-Myth!") are from the Indo-European influence sphere. So let's lastly talk about one other god, who just so happens to be probably important for Castlevania Nocturne as well: Quetzacóatl. Now, historians researching the Nahua, are fairly certain that this myth has come to be because there once was a Nahua ruler named Quetzacóatl after the deity, and that ruler died, which then in mythology got mixed up with the deity. Never the less: There definitely is written down myths about the death of Quetzacoatl.

The short of it is, that a couple of demons plotted to kill him, but knowing that they could not kill a god, they deviced a plan: They would feed him a beer that would drive him mad. While it took a lot of trickery, they succeeded, and drove the god mad, making him commit suicide by burning himself alive.

Maui

Okay, I know what some might say: "But actually is Maui a god?" I will answer: "That depends who you ask." Maui is a character that shows up throughout almost all the Pacifica cultures. He is always a trickster and a culture hero. At times he is a mortal, at other times he is a demi-god, and at yet other times he is a full god. Because those cultures were distant enough to have the myths shift around. So yes, maybe you will call this cheating. But fuck it, let me talk about Maui, because I kinda think his death is pretty darn cool.

So, if you have watched Moana, you know that Maui is a shape shifter. And he was very fond of humans. So, he decided that he wanted to make humanity immortal. His plan to do so was to go to the goddess of the Underworld and death, Hine-nui-te-pō, and reverse the birth by transforming into a worm and crawl into her vagina. However, she woke, and it turns out that her vagina had teeth - so she crushed him with her vagina teeth. Which is... pretty darn badass, I would say.

Lastly

Let me end this entire thing with the note that there probably are quite a few more gods that die within their respective mythologies. I know at least of two myths from North America in which Coyote dies (a lot of North American cultures have Coyote as a trickster god). And I personally am simply not well informed on South American mythologies or a lot of African mythologies. I do not know stuff about the Indigenous pre-buddhist mythologies of Southeastern Asia, and central Asia. So there is a good chance that there are gods that die - or die and get resurrected in those mythologies - but if there are, I simply do not know enough about them.

Generally speaking though: Gods rarely can be killed by normal mortals. Mortal half-gods might succeed at times. But other gods? Yeah, they sure can kill their fellow deities. And some deities also commit suicide to save other people. It is a common thing throughout mythology.

So, please, can we just stop claiming gods are truly immortal? They will usually not die of old age or anything like that, but they very much can be killed by other gods, magical weapons and such things.

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania nocturne #mythology #religion #norse mythology #egyptian mythology #greek mythology #japanese mythology #nahual mythology #sekhmet #izanami #celtic mythology #gaelic mythology #lugh #osiris #ra #hades #zagreus

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mothiir · 6 months ago

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not a request, more of a fun fact because i saw another sanguinius fan here yesterday and i can’t find her blog for the life of me.

supposedly birds, particularly male birds, associate their wings being stroked with sexual stimulation and will become very sexually frustrated if it’s not taken care of. Stroking their wings too often will also cause them to associate you with being a mate instead of a friend or companion, which causes them to be jealous and possessive over you.

do with this information what you will

So what I did with this is write some sanguinius being a wee bit feral but also being the noble boy we love. Also I need to start writing things that aren’t dubcon because why is this the healthiest relationship I’ve written so far

—

cw: slightly lewd, implications of violence

—

It probably starts off completely by chance: you’re cleaning, and Sanguinius swans into his quarters without noticing you. Even the noblest of the Emperor’s sons will sometimes fail to acknowledge the staff, especially when he is distracted -- and oh, is the poor thing distracted. He’s just had to sit through a four hour meeting -- hosted by Roboute, with the Lion in attendance, and he has been zigzagging between acute boredom and blinding frustration -- and, on top of all of that, he is moulting. He claws his robe off his body, stretching his wings out to their full span. He makes a primal sound of pure satisfaction, contorting his sleek golden body to dig his fingers into his tender flesh, trying to unroot the snarls of not-quite loose feathers. Some come free easily; others snag. He wishes he was in Bhaal, where he could stretch himself out in the hot dry dust, and squirm back and forth, letting the acrid soil scratch the most stubborn of itches. Alas, there is no such amenity here, only --

It’s then he notices you, cloth in hand, frozen. At his gaze, you immediately drop to your knees, touch your forehead to the floor.

“My lord Primarch -- forgive me --”

“Forgive you for what?” he says, lightly. “There is nothing to forgive; you are doing your duty. You are excused -- there is plenty aboard to be cleaned.”

You stand somewhat shakily, twisting the cloth between your hands. “Yes my lord. Of course my lord. It is just --”

You know a little about birds -- enough to recognise the signs of a highly uncomfortable moult. And Sanguinius is not a bird but the greatest man you have ever known, and yet…and yet you cannot help yourself.

“--I wonder if I could be of assistance? With the uh -- with the pin feathers. The ones that aren’t open, I can see a few -- “

You make an aborted little gesture: fingers closing, as if around an invisible reed, pinching slightly, dragging up. Precisely the way he sees to his own pin feathers, letting the keratin sheathe surrounding them crumble against his grip, freeing the filament within.

“My mother keeps birds,” you offer, as an explanation, then flush. “Not that you are one, my lord -- not --”

He chuckles at your unease, and settles himself down on his bed, patting the red silk quilt beside him.

“Come. Assist me, if you are so keen.”

Many quail at the sight of him -- despite what Horus thinks, Sanguinius is more revered than beloved, and the difference between the two is stark -- but you do not. You approach him with downturned eyes, smelling faintly of fear, but you still approach him.

Your hands are small and swift, deftly opening up the feathers in need of help, leaving the ones not yet ready. You work for hours, until your hands must be cramping from effort, but you do not quibble or complain. You smooth his primaries, straighten them in line with each other; you tug free lumps of down with sharp efficient gestures. Slowly, the itching fades, and with it the frustration. Before Sanguinius quite knows what he is doing, he has sprawled himself back onto the mattress, pulling you with him. You use the new angle to your advantage, reaching under his flank to work at the feathers closest to his wingjoints.

“There,” you say, just as he feels about ready to drift off. His eyes are half-lidded, and a slight smile curves his lips. “That looks…better. You’re not done moulting yet, but that’s what I can do for now.”

“You’ll return tomorrow,” he says, a request and a command and a question all at once. Your cheeks are wonderfully pink as you nod. He ponders briefly what all that delicious blood would taste like, spilling down his throat, and then shoves the thought to the side. He will not ruin your helpfulness with his hunger.

The next night, you perform the same job, and the night after that, and the night after that. His moult ends, but he thinks it best that you keep returning: caring for his wings is an important duty, after all, and you are so very good at it. So eager to please.

(A voice that sounds distressingly like Konrad’s says what else would she do to please you, golden one? -- but he ignores that, for he must.)

The problem becomes apparent not during those long late nights as you preen him while he tries to think of anything but how sweet your blood would taste, but in the middle of his ship. He has just led his sons to an astounding victory, coming to the aid of a local governor against a fleet of xenos raiders, and -- as is tradition -- they are celebrating, hosting the Imperium’s great and good aboard the Red Tear. The ballroom they gather in is built to accommodate a Primarch, with a huge arched ceiling, draped with scarlet silk. The walls are festooned with artwork of immense beauty, most painted by the Blood Angels themselves: scenes of battles hard won, golden cities on green hills, birds flying free over great glittering lakes. Sanguinius makes a speech, praising the well-fought battle of the planetary defense force against the raiders -- and meaning every word -- and then retires to a corner to sip his wine and try to relax. He cannot walk amongst the delegates without people dropping to their knees in supplication, so he finds that becoming part of the furniture is the best approach for a restful party for all.

That is when he sees you. You’re wearing the same basic formal outfit all of the serfs wear -- fine scarlet linen, embroidered with gold -- but you’ve altered the wide-legged trousers into a skirt, which swishes around your ankles as you move; a slit halfway up your thigh gives him a tantalizing glimpse of pale flesh, and his mouth goes dry.

Deep in conversation with one of the proud young soldiers, you’re completely oblivious to Sanguinius’s hungry gaze. At least -- he hopes you is, because you laugh at something your companion says and then he touches your shoulder.

Before he can control himself, Sanguinius crosses the ballroom, picks up the young human and rips him in two, showering you both with a fountain of gore. Your scream stills in your throat, eyes bugging with terror, as he gathers you close, tongue running along your pulsing jugular, claws biting into your flesh as he shreds your garment, intent on claiming you then and there, his mate, his woman, his --

That, of course, is not what happens. What actually happens is that Sanguinius stalks towards you, a beatific smile pasted over his face, and the poor young man immediately steps backwards; his logical mind sees the Primarch, and is awestruck; but his primal lizard brain screams this is a predator you have to run.

“I will have to steal you away, if you don’t mind,” he says, and of course you do not mind -- because you are his. His woman. His mate. As he steers you out of the ballroom, you confide in a low voice:

“Thank you. He was lovely, but just a little too eager. I think he was all of seventeen!”

Sanguinius knows he should feel ashamed that he had come this close to gutting a child-soldier who had the misfortune of making you laugh, but he doesn’t. He feels a little guilty at his lack of guilt, but that is it. If he had slain the boy it would have been his right, as your lord and master --

No. No. That is not him; that is not how he acts, nor how he behaves. Those impulses come to him for he is a warhawk and a warrior, but he does not act on them because he is not a monster.

“These parties do get tiresome,” he says, ushering you ahead of him. “I am glad I have you to keep me company while we avoid them.”

You end up back in his bedroom, combing your fingers through his feathers. He melts under your touch, every sinew in his back starting to relax. Soon -- hopefully soon -- he will have you squirming and mewling under him, your legs spread eagerly for him, your tight little body welcoming him deep inside. Soon. When he is sure that you are saying yes because you want to, not because the overwhelming force of his desire is warping your own feelings. When he can trust himself not to hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt.

Sanguinius can hold tight to his self control for that. For your sake. For his.

#sanguinius/reader #my writing

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toto-the-cactus · 2 months ago

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Ayo! Finished this damn thing. Hope this is still good. Tell me who we should go find next <333

Tagging some people that have been waiting for this update:

@danart501 @ilikemytittieswithwarmmilk

Summary: As a perpetual, you have been by the Emperor's side for most of your immortality. There's no name for what strange dynamic you both share, but you do trust him and your loyalty eventually pays off over millennia once he fulfills an old promise he made during your first ever encounter.

Pairing: Emperor of Mankind x Perpetual!Reader (Female)

CW: None

Part 1 - Part 2 - ?

The Mother (2)

The pregnancy had been a success and the development was nothing short of fast and strenuous. You should have expected Him to mold your body in a manner that would serve Him better for his wishes and plans to be fulfilled.

His Great Crusade needed to be accomplished and you suddenly became part of the means to that end.

What a dreadful fate. To be nothing but his petri dish.

And so, Horus was born. His little form being held against your chest like the precious treasure that he was, making the sorrow of not having the rest of your children there too be momentarily forgotten by his awaited arrival, cooing and grunting in delight at the warmness of your encompassing heartbeat once he settled at your bosom.

A memory you cherished to the end of time while it had burned itself on your soul to leave a lasting mark. You had cried in joy, hunched over yourself to blanket your newborn with your whole begin and feel him real, psychical, between your arms.

His accelerated growth didn’t deter you enough from enjoying any time with your baby boy, from supporting him during his unforgiving training to reading with each other's company at the main library of the Imperial Palace. All for the sake of letting him be loved by you.

It was a matter that (while not ideal) didn't interest the Emperor much, for his plans were already taking proper form and the ‘gift’ of not taking away your son from you was enough of a blessing that didn’t need to be addressed again.

Even if that notion tasted like ash on your mouth.

Your little boy wasn’t so little anymore and that sometimes worried you, as you knew very well the kind of expectations the Emperor held for Horus; the true born Primarch, a warrior to serve under his Father’s light as a tool despite his own Mother’s unyielding love. You couldn’t help but feel like this was a prelude of some sort of omen.

Most of the days eventually became grey on its core, for your son was now in charge of his Legion, the Luna Wolves, marking his very first start as an official Primarch under the service of his Father… laying you to the sides like you have always been when regarding the Emperor.

Did Horus know how much it hurt his distance? How much it hurt to witness his crave for the approval of a man made god… when you simply wished to read a book of old literature in his company?

You hated being made again this tragic effigy of the woman with the eyes of a dying lamb. You felt forgotten… a ghost from these golden walls.

But the eventual call of Erda served to stray you away from such gloom thoughts. Her psyker powers a breach through your mind’s wall but clear enough for a single sentence to make your heart take a leap out close to your throat.

“I found one of them”

You couldn’t have been faster in your life to get a lunar cruiser ready to reach the needed destination; not even willingly to explain yourself when the Emperor saw you boarding the vessel. But as always, He went and proved to still be an enigma to you thanks to his ever unnatural actions.

“Go along with her… and make sure to protect her and obey her during the travel only” his command was absolute when he addressed four of his Custodes, their impassive disposition only showing the barest of emotion when fulfilling their Emperor’s orders like a gospel, but the specifics of his directive weren’t lost to you: to obey you just this single time. Nothing more, nothing less.

Of course, you weren't ungrateful to his gesture and thanked him deeply for it with a kiss to the palm of his armored hand when he caressed your cheek, but He quickly dismissed the matter. He knew what you were about to do and it wasn't like he Himself hadn’t been picking any possible clues to find the other Primarchs out there that you two wholeheartedly believed to still be alive.

Sometimes you wondered if the Emperor had managed to have a tiny, small part of instinctual fatherhood to be awakened within him after all the time he had spent with Horus. It was a nice thought. A hopeful one, but you knew better than to get your expectations up.

Once settled inside the cruiser, the coordinates were introduced to start the travel to retrieve one of your children.

Erda’s voice still echoing inside your mind when she told you the planet that you needed to search for: Nuceria.

-°-

The sight had been painful.

The worst nightmare a mother could ever expect.

Your arrival had been anything but discret at the revolting planet of Nuceria, having been informed of the life that the elites carried at the expense of the blood and flesh of slaves forced to fight for any resemblance of survival by their supposed masters. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but millenia of serving the Emperor had made you receptive to his ideals and methods. Justifying your own purpose by standing on his side could derive a vulnerability that you weren’t ready to confront. You needed to believe in the Emperor even if he took too far the phrase “Any means justify the end”.

After all, immortality has only made it easier for your troubling love to persevere longer in your stubborn heart and for fickle human lives to become an afterthought. You were well aware that you weren’t any better than Him in the ever present inhumanity you carried.

When your child had looked at your direction, imposing form towering over your smaller frame and covered in so many slashes and blood, your heart had seized in a painful knot. Those scars were injuries you hadn’t been able to sooth with compassion. You had failed your son and that was something you’ll never forgive yourself.

The only mercy you could offer was to take him away from this wretched place.

Just when you were ready to take a step towards him, you saw his eyes harden and his posture change in defense with squared up shoulders. A warning if you decided to go against him and the thorn inside your chest only bled even more.

The Custodes that had escorted you as per their orders maintained a cold and terrifying disposition, deterring any of the guards surrounding you and your son’s tribe to take a last step. The commotion at the fighting pit had been great but you cared little for these people and their sick sense of entertainment. Fighting was an art of the honorable and the strong; to be used in epic battles to build history and civilizations. Using it as a careless trick was absolutely insulting.

It was beyond you to do this. Against any of the natural ingrained fighting instinct that had saved you for years, but the desperation of a mother overrode any of that to mere dust and motivated you to do the one thing you wished to believe will make your son realize who you were.

“I’ve been dreaming of finding you… for so long. I’m here now, my son”

And you saw it behind his hardened eyes, and you rejoiced in the recesses of your mind. There was a semblance of recognition shining through his stare at the timbre of your voice.

A far away lullaby that accompanied him in his lowest moments.

An step became two, then three and so on until you found yourself right at your child’s side after a few strides, hand gently touching his roughed one until the grip over his twin axe became slack, allowing you to take a better hold in an attempt to convey all the encapsulated emotions that stormed within your soul.

Grief, sadness, frustration, longing, relief… love.

You’ve been waiting for so long.

No one moved beyond you, tugging his huge arm towards you while softly telling him “It’s time to go home”, but those words instead of making him relax in your presence, had the opposite as his stance became once again defensive. At least this time he genuinely looked conflicted on the matter, glancing back at the other slaves that simply stayed behind as mere spectators of the whole encounter, unable to properly react when not just a few moments ago they were ready to lose their lives in the pits.

Ah, you understood.

“I can’t… not without my people…” he seemed to want add more into that sentence, his eyes straying just a little towards a man that looked to be quite tall by mortal standards, covered in too many scars that told stories of his battles in this wretched place but carrying himself with enough dignity to be respected.

This is where you must make a decision that will carry quite the weight. You knew that there was space enough to carry the slaves, not comfortably, but it could be arranged to be a thigh fit. You knew He wouldn’t even have hesitated at the idea of just forcibly taking your son and leaving all these humans to die with their fate already chosen. The Emperor had no time to dwell in the aspects of mercy and compassion, you could acknowledge that very well and that had been the main reason he had kept you long enough around. To remind him about the nostalgia of the humanity he once possessed. He couldn’t provide the proper love Horus and these children dreamed of… so you would carry that responsibility and dry your heart to make sure your precious sons knew they were loved no matter what.

Your loyalty will always belong to the Emperor, just as much as your body, soul and mind… but you didn’t belong to yourself too anymore… the pittance of individuality you were sure to hold crumbled into dust once you had wished to be the mother of these children and that was something you would proudly carry.

And so, your decision was made.

“Custodes!” you call them, their attention fully on you now and waiting for your command. The grasp over your son’s hand became tighter in an attempt to reassure him once you felt him go tense at your stern tone. He had probably expected the worst and that notion only made something vile twist inside your stomach. “We will be taking the slaves with us too”

There was a beat of uncertainty and you could already guess that this choice would not be well received by the Emperor… but that was something you were willingly to bear over your shoulders like many times you have done in the past.

Things will work out. You can only trust blind hope, but that is enough for now.

You stretch your arm towards his face with some effort, for he is still taller than you, but he lets his head tilt towards you to help a bit and gives you the chance to offer a sweet caress over his cheek. You can feel the rough texture of his messy shave, of the scars, and your heart throbs painfully when you think about all the hardships he had to face.

You couldn’t assure him a better life away from battle, but you could at least give him the solace of a greater future along for his people.

“I’m here now… and I will not abandon you… ever” there had been an edge of something feral in your tone. The side you rarely showed but a reminder of why you had been beside the Emperor this long.

You hoped Horus would be open at the idea of some siblings.

Just messing around with this idea, don't get ya hopes up pls.

Love ya, fellas!

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #wh40k #reader insert #female reader #emperor of mankind x reader #emperor x reader #mentioned horus lupercal #angron #fanfic #motherhood on steroids #mentioned primarchs #my writing

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kit-williams · 5 months ago

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Oh no there's now two of each Primarch!

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Lady Dorn just sighs as now she has to hear her husband in stereo. She just enjoys the bit more affection her not husband Rogal offers her.

Sorsilla doesn't like the way that they both just grin at her like some sort of predator as she doesn't want to let them know she's lost track of which ones is hers.

The Lady of the Death Guard just sighs as she has now two husbands to make sure are okay. Of course she enjoys the amount of flower crowns they rest on her head smiling as she is unaware of the growing madness in the eyes of the newcomer.

Lady Corax just watches in horror as she assumes her not husband says something about her and her husband erupted into violence. She is hiding with Shrike... The legion is concerned.

She looks at the two Alpharius' no one is an Alpharius and the other is an Omegon... The dread she feels is from the fact this means there are four of them running around.

Lady El'Johnson sighs as her Lion snarls at the newcomer as of course he would say having her on his arm was a waste of time. And in retort her Lion shocks her with being publicly affectionate with her... She won't say no to her knight...

Fulgrim had sworn off of marriage as you attend to the two Primarchs as they speak quietly. You were just a serf but you could see the way this newcomer looks at you. You blink as he pulls you into your lap just once again you being treated like a doll for him to fuss over... Why did you feel so warm under his gaze...

Jaghatai happily discusses topics with himself as you're asleep in the newcomers lap having fallen asleep with his fingers running through your hair and gently against your scalp.

"Heel!" Lady Russ says as she pulls on the braids of the overly affectionate Primarch. As the two of them eagerly stole her away with her not husband eagerly asking where Leman found you as they handle you roughly before piling into a side room to rip your clothes and paw at your body.

Ferrus looked as his counterpart as they both knew where they kept you... Both having found you already in their respective universes and both putting you away to keep you safe.

Lady Guilliman looked at the older version of her husband. He never found you... He looks like the weight of the galaxy is crushing him and suffocating him. "Please," he begs softly, "just hold me a little bit more." He holds her close as he savors this dream.

Horus can see the stewing jealousy from himself as he wants to touch you. But Horus knows himself and it won't stop with a touch... Never with you... And he doesn't know if he's willing to share you with himself.

Lady Aurilian shakes her head as her husband at times can be insufferable but now there is two of him crooning your praises. It's adorable and insufferable but it is also your husband and a version of himself before meeting you...

Magnus happily converses with himself hoping to help himself avoid small mistakes. The poor Lady of the Thousand sons is a mewling mess as the two Psyker Primarchs are playing with your soul and you once more orgasm with a scream.

He has the Red Lady take away the pain of himself for a moment. He holds her tight against his chest as she twitches violently in pain, he grabs the stunned Angron's tunic and just tells him where he found you and what year all down to the last details. "Save her from her High Rider" the red angel hisses in pain as the nails bite hard before they return to a full ache as she returns to taking his pain again. Leaving the ladyless Angron to burn that information into his mind for a chance to have relief.

The Lady of the Blood Angels feels anemic as she can see that predatory look in this new Sanguinius' eyes... She knows her husband well enough and by the way they coo at her... She swallows nervously.

The Lady of the Salamanders smiled at her not husband who eagerly gave her hugs. Oh how lovely to meet you before actually meeting you! And he must love you terribly given how he could see the simmering anger from himself as he stole kisses from you much to your delight.

Out of all the spouses only Penelope is vibrating with excitement that there are two of her husband! While the two of them scowl at each other there is just a happily bouncing mortal woman with a chance at a wild and impossible fantasy of hers to be fulfilled... To which her Perturabo just rolls his eyes as she just bewilders the other as she gets to trying to seduce him.

#primarchs #warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #primarch x reader #primarch x oc #x reader #some yandere primarchs #oc: penelope #oc: Sorsilla

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remembrancer-of-heresy · 4 months ago

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Reverse Therapy AU:

I usually try to follow canon (or close to it) when I write fanfics. And especially when I write about space marines. However, I've been thinking about creating my own AU. I've previously asked @kit-williams to write about space marines whose sexual desire has returned. Now I've decided to write a more detailed backstory before writing fanfics about it.

On Istvaan V Horus Lupercal issued a series of orders that were supposed to increase the traitors' chances of victory. Some innovations in the craft of war and hierarchy. However, few know that all Space Marines (regardless of the wishes of the Primarchs) also underwent therapy that restored their sexual desire.

The Warmaster did this for a number of reasons. First, he felt hatred and disappointment at the fact that the Emperor planned to destroy their species eventually. This explains why the Space Marines lost the desire to reproduce. Their presence is a necessity, not a natural process. At least it was until that day.

Second, Horus was partly influenced by Slaanesh (each of the four gods contributed to his goals and powers) and the desire to create a new species. In a way, a desire to become a real father/parent, as mortals would say.

Only heretics know about Reverse Therapy. The Imperium has harsh propaganda on many aspects concerning Chaos. It is not surprising that people who know about it prefer to remain silent. After all, if the fate of becoming a slave fighter (aka cannon fodder) or a slave for dirty work (and sometimes for torture) frightens the inhabitants of the Imperium. Then the possibility of becoming a warm body is not so scary.

Relationships depend on the specific marine. But if we talk in general, then:

Emperor's Children: A legion of hedonists and debauchees, oddly enough, may be the strangest place for such a slave. Some will simply torture, others will engage in ordinary intimate things. But do not forget that each marine seeks his own pleasure. For example, there were men who spoiled their lovers, giving them whatever they wanted, forgetting about bed. In fact, they treated them like pets (with sexual connotations). Art lovers were noticed trying to sculpt, draw a poor slave. And it does not matter in what state (she is always beautiful!). If this is a beloved wife, then later they made love to her after completing the work. If an ordinary slave, then most often she was walled up alive in wax. Simply put, everything depends on the search for pleasure of the marine you come across.

Night Lords: falling into the hands of a space marine from this legion is akin to playing roulette. Most likely, it will be a sadist who likes to mock his victims not only with ordinary torture. This means that the slaves will not live long. Some keep one slave partly out of sympathy or because it is convenient, continuing to torture. Although there are also quite often “heroes” who simply adore rescuing slave girls (and it does not matter that such knights recently flayed children) and fuck them right next to the corpse of the villain, promising to take care, protect and love forever. Just let them be seen as saviors.

Iron Warriors: Despite the fact that the Space Marines from this legion despise mortals and advocate for efficiency, there is not always only iron inside. Many also crave love, like their primarch, desperately hiding this feeling. Some representatives of this legion can be quite rough in bed. Others, delighted with new sensations, first only hug and kiss. But almost always it all turns into possessive behavior and favorite slaves quickly find themselves under the protection of the master in an iron cage. And of course the poor things will be marked. Either it's a collar, or they will be marked. And yes, the unlucky slaves who didn't find their marine probably would be sent to a brothel (if this place called like this in the Eye of Terror) or became daemonculaba.

Black Legion: breeding kink is hereditary. Most former Sons of Horus easily accepted the reverse therapy. And although some were not thrilled to experience... feelings at the sight of mortals, like the same Abaddon, over time they even liked it. The Black Legion has a variety of Space Marines from other Legions, but some of them also adopted the Sons of Horus attitude to reverse therapy. It is best for a warm slave to end up in this Legion, as she will have a better chance of immediately finding a good patron who will protect her. But if her master would like to share... the weakest doesn't survive.

Word Bearers: perhaps the most unusual Legion when it comes to reverse therapy. Some may use slaves for rituals. If they experience possessive feelings, they will most likely hide them from the rest of the Legion. And then it depends on the Space Marine. It can be a joint study of the Chaos Gods or worship of a beloved. Some Astartes are particularly fond of playing the role of serpent-tempters and corrupting their lovers. Or not. There was even a case of a Word Bearer convincing a girl that in fact he serves the God-Emperor, and the loyalists serve the Four Gods, in order to gain her attention and love.

Death Guard: If Grandfather Nurgle got Grandmother Isha, then why should his beloved grandchildren be alone? The question is not how the Space Marines will treat you (with all the love) but how do they want you? A decayed corpse full of sores and diseases for the glory of Grandfather? Or will you be young and beautiful like Isha, to create a delightful contrast. Either way, they are all terrible owners and treat their slaves very tenderly. At least in their understanding, since it is in this legion that the slaves most often cry (well, just like grandma, exactly, yeah!). Although some can be rude and even evil, they always ask for forgiveness later.

Alpha Legion: It is rather difficult to say how the Space Marines of the most secretive Legion cope with their newfound desire. According to some rumors, copies of the Primarchs like to exchange their slaves. Marines with an extremely expressive appearance most often choose one girl and become possessive to the point of madness (manipulation + Stockholm syndrome are guaranteed). But this is only general data.

Thousand Sons: The Legion joined the "general fun" too late and underwent therapy only before the siege of Terra. And yes, no one explained to them what it was. As a result, the therapy led to... interesting consequences. Some Thousand Sons got used to it as an insignificant feature that should be studied later. Others, little scientists, like to experiment with new sensations and relationships. Some Space Marines like stupid mortals, others adore lovers of knowledge. Some conduct experiments on their slaves, and others cherish them as pets.

World Eaters: Being a Khorn worshippers, these Space Marines forget about all aspects of life except the lust for murder. Most World Eaters do not have warm slaves. However, if they do, they are treated with great care (to the best of their ability). They do not leave their master's chambers because they know that if they leave, their skull will be crushed. Relationships/courtship(?) are always brutal with a touch of oppressive tenderness. World Eaters have a hard time being affectionate, but once they have warm slaves, they try to keep them with all their might.

Sometimes loyalist Space Marines take the path of Chaos. Such traitors also undergo reverse therapy. However, their “first experience” depends on the environment of their new brothers. Sometimes a Space Marine may not be explained the reason for his new feelings and why he suddenly wants to look at mortal women or men.

Such newcomers are the most dangerous. Most often, they kill a slave, eat or break from an excess of feelings. Newcomers who have been explained their desire should also not be trusted. Because in their desire to try the previously forbidden fruit, they may not hold back their strength. All “newcomers” in reverse therapy are usually given the most uninteresting slaves. Rarely does anyone survive. And if a loyalist traitor likes a girl to the point of madness, this surprises, scares a little, and sometimes disgusts the Chaosites (love at first sight? ugh).

The attitude of loyalist traitors to warm slaves depends on many reasons. What legion they came from, what gods they worship, what gang they are in. But most often, the most obsessed and eager for love are all the heirs of the Blood Angels and the Raven Guard. The Iron Hands experience the least sexual desire.

To summarize, “Reverse Therapy” AU where all chaosites have sexual desire in one way or another. However, since they are firstly space marines, and secondly heretics, mortal slaves are afraid to attract their attention. These are always dark feelings, too overexcited and sometimes uncontrollable. The worst is for those who spend only one night with traitors. Others become lovers, consider pets. Who are loved and cherished, but this care is suffocating and gloomy.

P.S. This AU was made partly for me personally, as I always write the attraction of space marines as an exception to the rule or if he is influenced by Slaanesh/Dark Gods. If I create rules and fanon for myself, then I can write more of my darkest ideas. And yes. It will be mostly OC space marines.

#au: reverse therapy #space marine x reader #yandere space marine

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talonabraxas · 2 months ago

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Horus 𓄿 Talon Abraxas

Horus (Also Heru-sa-Aset, Hrw, Hr, and Hor-Hekenu) is the falcon-headed god of ancient Egyptian mythology.

Like many other gods the nature of what he was and the legends and stories that went with him changed over the course of history. Horus was an amalgamation of other, related deities, all of whom were sun gods and associated with the royal prerogative and the sky. Because Horus was a combination of other gods, it is rarely correct to refer to "Horus" as Horus was as much a family of related deities (though many had differing parentages) unified in one being; something similar occurs in many Christians' interpretation of the one God who manifests in three parts.

Heru-ur (also called Harmerti) is the oldest version of Horus, and was a falcon creator-god who was known for restraining Apep. His eyes were the sun and the moon; during a new moon, he was blind and was called Mekhenty-er-irty ("he who has no eyes") and upon the return of his sight, he was called Khenty-irty ("he who has eyes"). While blind, Horus was quite dangerous, sometimes attacking his friends after mistaking them for enemies. He was a son of Geb and Nut and was the patron god of Letopolis.

As a child, Horus was called Har-pa-khered ("Horus the child" and called Harpocrates by the Greeks) and was a son of either Osiris and Isis or Banebdjetet and Hatmehit. He was depicted as a naked boy with a finger in his mouth, sitting on a lotus with his mother. In this form, he was a fertility god and was depicted with a cornucopia. Har-pa-Khered became very popular during the time of the Roman Empire, when he was depicted riding a goose or ram (note Banebdjetet, his father, was a ram god).

Later Horus became absolutely aligned as a son of the dead body of Osiris and Isis (alternatively: he emerged from Saosis' acacia tree). This is very often cited as "the" Horus in many scholarly works. In truth, this Horus was called Har-sa-iset or Harsiesis.

As Har-nedj-itef (Harendotes in Greek), Horus was Osiris' bodyguard in the underworld, called the Duat.

As Behedti, Horus was the patron deity of Behdet (cur: Edfu), where he was strongly associated with the falcon.

As Chenti-irti, Horus was a falcon-god of law and order.

Later still he became associated with the sun god Ra where they combined especially at Heliopolis and became Ra-Herekhty (also Ra-Heru-akhety, Her-akhety ("Horus of the two horizons"), Har-em-akhet ("Horus upon the horizon"), Horakhety, Harmachis (Greek)), god of the morning sun.

Anhur was Horus as a union with Shu.

In the 3rd millennium BC, Set became the patron god of the pharaohs (replacing Horus in the form of Har-mau or Harsomtus) after overthrowing Horus in the form of Har-wer or Haroeris. Later a story became popular that Set had killed Horus' father Osiris, and Set was thought of more and more as an evil god. So Har-mau was again made the pharaohs' patron in this myth: A war between Set and Horus ensued, lasting for eighty years. Har-mau tore off one leg and the testicles of Set, who in turn took out Har-mau's left eye (hence he is referred to as "the one-eyed god"). His eye was later returned to him. Horus won the war (with the support of Neith) and became the ruler of Lower and Upper Egypt. Seth was castrated or killed or moved in with Ra and became the voice of thunder.

Horus was the father of the four gods associated with the canopic jars of Egyptian funerary beliefs: Imset, Hapi, Duamutef, and Kebechsenef.

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howlingday · 30 days ago

Note

The Ace ops are on a joint mission with the Blood Angels to find a missing squadron of Atlas soldiers and other Blood angels sent to clear out the Grimm in an abandoned mine, they discover the dismembered bodies of both groups, they look to see a lone Blood Angel standing in the middle of the cavern, the Chaplain questions his brother on what happened, but he was soon filled with horror as he heard him whisper the name “Horus”.

Where Traitors Tread

"Atlas Outpost Zeta, this is Leading Specialist Ebi, requesting permission to land."

There was no answer. Again. Clover had tried to make contact with the outpost for the past thirty minutes on approach, first en route, second on arrival, and everything else was as they were circling.

"Let's just land this thing, Clove." Harriet groused.

"Patience, Specialist," the red-and-white-armored Chaplain hushed with his hand, "I am certain there is a reason for their silence." He then veered his skulled helm towards Clover. "Of course, one must be diligent to not mistake patience for sloth."

Clover gave a sigh. He was trying to be nice, but there was a limit. "Atlas Outpost Zeta, this is Leading Specialist Ebi. We are landing to refuel and investigate. Please stand-by."

As the bullhead docked on the hangar above, there was no staff to greet the joint operation of Atlas Specialists and Blood Angels. Ironwood's finest and the sons of Sanguinius both felt the chill of the Solitas wastes and hurried into the building below. So far, everything about this mission felt off.

There was no contact from the outpost for the past twenty-four hours, and not even the drones sent ahead were able to make contact on arrival. In fact, the moment they arrived, they became disconnected and went offline. If this was some kind of Grimm, it needed to be investigated and resolved by experienced huntsmen, ergo the Ace Operatives.

This outpost served another purpose as a temporary base for those Blood Angels who needed respite beyond the walls of Mantle. Ties between Remnant and the Imperium had been tense, and not without good reason, thus this measure seemed fitting as a first step towards better relations.

"We'll check the operations room," Clover explained, "see if it's a radio glitch or something that's making it impossible to get a response." The elevator was large enough for the Space Marines and huntsmen to ride in. "I don't know about you, but I'm hoping it's just a glitch."

"A glitch that takes out drones, too?" Elm raised her brow.

"Chaplain..." The apothecary called.

"Yes, Antrit," replied the elder Blood Angel, "I smell it, too."

The doors opened to a horror show. Blood covered every surface as the console, too, bled with sparks and flittering screens. Corpses lay strewn about, both Remnant and Astartes, all covered in ghastly wounds made by either blade or bolter.

"Brothers..." Marrow covered his mouth and nose, trying to keep the offending iron scent from making him retch.

Clover clicked his radio. "Atlas, this is Ace-Op 1, respond." Nothing, not even static replied. "Atlas, Ace Op 1, do you read me?"

"Your radio is useless, Specialist." The Chaplain held out his hand. "It appears our adversary has fashioned an EMP emitter out of the console."

"Damn..."

"Brothers, it is imperative that we locate the perpetrator and subdue them. Failure will only result in more blood spilled than desired. We shall search every level until we have located this killer, be they monster or traitor."

"Ace Ops," Clover spoke up, "what he said."

The four entered the elevator, moving down to the lower levels. Light filtered through the doors as they opened, the flickering bulbs within acting as first warning to the horrors that awaited the joint teams. Each floor told the same story; blood, violence, destruction, and death, all performed with malevolent. A familiar malevolence as well to the Chaplain.

"Lead Specialist," the elder said, "from this moment forward, we shall take point." Before there was any contest, the Blood Angel directed singled out his brother. "Tamenzo, your services as vanguard are needed."

"As you wish, Chaplain." The hulking, red warrior stepped forward, his bolter level with the door. Before they could open, they could hear the unmistakable shouts of another Space Marine beyond. A silence fell over the group, especially among the much smaller specialists as they didn't dare step forward of their Astartes counterparts.

"TRAITOROUS FILTH!" The doors screamed open as armored hands rended the elevator seals apart. "YOU WILL NOT HAVE ME THIS DAY, HERETIC!"

The screaming man shouted from within his blue helm, heedless to the amplification of his voice booming from his vox. The chaplain recognized this man as his company's own devastator, Brother Faustal Archun. Gareus lunged forward, foolishly holstering his bolter before taking hold of his much stronger battle brother's arms, hoping to speak reason to him. Before he could, he was tossed aside as more venom spilled from his assaulter.

"IN THE NAME OF THE EMPEROR, I WILL AVENGE OUR FATHER, HOR-" A shot rang through the otherwise empty room, splintering through Archun's armor and driving him to his knees. Before he could rise, Tamenzo drove his blade through his battle brother's chest. The devastator grasped hold of the sword of his undoing and looked to his killer. "H... Hor..." His arms fell as his dying breath carried his final words. "Horus..."

The air became tense as the crazed battle brother became limp. Sliding his blade free of Archun's chest, Tamenzo approached the Chaplain, sheathing his sword. Wordlessly, the vanguard returned to formation with the rest of the squad. Turning to the two squads, the Chaplain spoke.

"We are returning to Atlas."

"Already?" Specialist Ederne asked. "What about the rest of the base?"

"I am afraid it is lost to us, Specialist." The Chaplain replied. "If there are any survivors, then we will require more than what we currently have."

"What?!" Specialist Bree balked. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're not just Atlas Specialists; we're the Ace Operatives, as in the best of the best at Atlas!"

"Not to mention what that guy said before he died." Specialist Amin added. "What did he mean by Hor-"

"If you wish to keep your heads, you will cease your retorts and do as I command." The Chaplain said in such a low growl, you'd swear it was some kind of Grimm hiding under that skull helmet. "Unless you have something more to say, Leading Specialist?"

Ebi hummed. "There's definitely something weird going on here, but I don't think ignoring it is going to help anything. How about we split up into two teams? One team will head to the roof and send word back to headquarters. Even if there is a signal jammer, I doubt it can stop a message going out if we fly out just far enough. The rest of us will look for any survivors. Keep your scrolls on and be ready to move."

The Chaplain did not care for this undermining of his authority, but he could also not disregard the opportunity to search for survivors. The two parties then split with the Chaplain, Lead Specialist Ebi, and Specialist Ederne moved to the roof to deliver the message while Specialist Amin and the Blood Angel Scout Ottavio Silat, attempted to remove the signal jammer from the control room. Meanwhile, Specialist Zeki and Bree searched the deeper parts of Atlas Outpost Zeta with Apothecary Leonardo Antrit and Vanguard Gareus Tamenzo.

The Chaplain and the two specialists returned shortly after once their signal to Atlas Headquarters was delivered. Apparently, Amin and Silat managed to remove the jammer. Upon arrival, however, only Specialist Amin was there to greet them, much to the anger of the Chaplain.

"Where is Scout Silat?" He asked.

"He said that he heard something downstairs and he was going to make sure the others are okay."

"And did you hear anything?"

"Well, I-I didn't, but-"

"But what?" The Chaplain nearly snarled.

"W-Well," he gulped, "you guys are already so much bigger and stronger than us, I didn't think it'd-"

"You didn't think?! This failing of your faculties will only serve to hasten your end, you belligerent-"

"Chaplain!" The elder space marine turned to see Ebi's scowl. "Yelling at Marrow like that isn't going to help anyone. Let's just head down and-"

Explosive rounds thundered from below. The Chaplain moved away from the Specialists and made his way to the stairs. The trio moved to join him, only to be halted by his extended palm. Without looking to his companions, he gave his orders.

"I will descend alone. Those were bolter shells that were fired. Your assistance would only worsen the odds of your survival. Remain here while I retrieve our comrades and investigate."

Without another word, the Chaplain moved his way down the stairs, his hulking mass doing little to hide his presence, though such things mattered little when the lives of both his battle brothers and their companions were in danger. His words to Specialist Amin were not first spoken to the Faunus, but also to the Chaplain when he'd first joined the company of his father's sons. When he was made the spiritual leader of the Sons of Sanguinius, he made a personal oath to ensure none strayed from the path he now walked with his brothers.

Every step brought him deeper into the darkness. Each step brought him closer to saving his brothers. He could do little more than hope as he kept one hand firmly wrapped around his staff and the other tightly squeezing his pistol. He could do little more than hope that his brothers could be saved from this blight.

He'd heard tales of the Black Rage afflicting his brothers, and each story only made his title as Chaplain all the more important. If he had his way, if he were to perish, it would be at the hands of a dying enemy of the Imperium, protecting the innocent that his father fought and died to save from the clawed fingers of Chaos. Better a gruesome death for a noble cause than to be brought to your knees by your own battle brother, either of you if not both driven mad by the psychic backlash from your father's demise. He clenched his eyes for a moment, but only for a moment, using his blindness to hone in on any sign of Scout Ottavio Silat.

He'd hand-picked this squad, Silat included, hoping to reinforce a sense of camaraderie between the ranks of both the Blood Angels and the Atlas military. Accompanying would be the "newbie" Marrow Amin, and Chaplain Sepharan Asbesco had agreed with Leading Specialist Clover Ebi that both could learn from each other as they embarked on their first joint operation. Vanguard Gareus Tamenzo held a competitive spirit poorly kindled with an eagerness to prove oneself that was all too familiar in Specialist Harriet Bree. Such excitement could be tempered under the watchful visage of one more experienced, such as Destroyer Faustal Archun and Specialist Elm Ederne could provide. Should anyone come to harm, as is to be expected in this extremely hazardous occupation, an apothecary and combat medic would be there to mend faster what the body could not alone, such to be done by the deft and dextrous hands of Apothecary Leonardo Antrit and Specialist Vine Zeki.

Five Blood Angels for five Atlesian Specialists, with one dead brother under his skull-helmed aegis. If this were some sick, twisted competition like the other legions played, then he would be on the losing side. But there was no side to be had here, save for the living and the dead. The galaxy is much different than it was ten thousand years ago. So different, and yet still very much alike.

"Chaplain Asbesco," a voice beckoned from his vox, providing evidence that Specialist Amin was able to remove the jamming device, "this is Brother Apothecary Antrit hailing Chaplain Asbesco."

"You have hailed and you have been heard, Brother Apothecary." The Chaplain replied. "Report status."

"Multiple casualties, Chaplain, both human and Astartes." His tone turned sour for a moment. "As well as the mutation regarded as 'Faunus'."

"Save your prejudice for another time, Brother Apothecary. Who among the Astartes are slain? Are they of our own party?"

"Negative, Chaplain." The Chaplain gave a silent sigh of relief. "They seem to have been dead before our arrival, likely around the time communications were severed. The wounds, however, align with what was seen with Brother Archun."

"Report location." The Chaplain continued, remaining vigilant of the flickering light of the darkness.

"I am on the lower-level designate B-3," the Chaplain noted his position on level B-2, just one floor above the Brother Apothecary's answer, "and I am here with-"

The vox became silent. "Brother Antrit?" The Chaplain hailed. "Brother Antrit?" Fear opened the gates of haste as the rib-plated space marine hurried down the step and into the dark. Activating his armor lights, he was greeted by a charging Blood Angel, his helm removed to reveal Vanguard Gareus Tamenzo.

Blade met staff as brother battled brother in the dark. The Chaplain held the advantage of night vision, which he used after shoving his brother away to leave him in darkness as his lights dimmed to nothing. Tamenzo roared as he swung wildly in the shadows.

"Traitor!" He barked. "You hide in the shadows like the daemons you consort with, Horus!"

Another brother fallen to the rage. Another brother too many. The Chaplain steadied his bolter and fired through the dark to bring the light to his fellow son of Sanguinius. Regrettably, his aim struck true and the mad barkings of the Black Rage fell to silence.

"Forgive me, Brother." The Chaplain said, approaching his fallen vanguard. "You deserved a warrior's death, an end fit for one such as our father."

"Chaplain." Looking up, he saw two space marines standing in front of him. One in white and red armor. The other looming behind in black armor, and a blazing orange eye in the center. The elder clenched his eyes shut and blinked. Looking once more, it was Apothecary Antrit with Specialists Bree and Zeki standing behind him. "Chaplain Asbescos?"

"Brother Apothecary." The Chaplain stood, heaving a sigh. "Forgive my belated reply."

"There is nothing to forgive, Chaplain, for no sin has been committed." The four looked down to the headless remains of their former vanguard. "Or no sin against I, Chaplain."

"Have you gathered the gene-seed of the fallen?"

"Save Brother Tamenzo, yes." He gave a nod. "Though I fear this madness has made the gatherings difficult, as our brothers met a woefully efficient end."

The Chaplain gave a hum in understanding. One did not become a chaplain without understanding the deeper meaning of those with greater tact than themselves. In their madness, the Black Rage ensured the Blood Angels would destroy themselves in the war of attrition by rendering one's gene-seed beyond salvation, be they Blood Angel or other Astartes mistaken for the great traitor.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?!" Specialist Bree barked. "We've got a lot of dead guys here, but you're talking about plants at a time like this?!"

"Bree," Specialist Zeki spoke in place of the ever ired Chaplain, "perhaps we cannot understand because we are not meant to understand." He looked to the Chaplain. "What would you have us do?"

"Return to the roof and rendezvous with Leading Specialist Ebi. We must evacuate and make a full report to our respective superiors." The trio gave salutes, the aquila from Apothecary Antrit and an unarmed hand salute from the specialists. The Chaplain watched them as they left, words left to be shared. "Apothecary. Specialists." They stopped and turned towards him. "Have any of you seen Brother Scout Silat?"

"Negative." The Apothecary replied. "The only other Astartes we've seen are dead or yourself. Brother Antrit was not among the casualties."

"Then I have deeper to go." The Chaplain replied. "I will travel to the lower levels as you ascend. If I have not returned within the hour, evacuate to Atlas headquarters."

The Apothecary was silent but gave a nod. The Chaplain stood and watched as the three climbed higher while the darkness beckoned below. A terrible thought crept into his mind; one of treachery of the lowest kind, with his Brother Apothecary abusing his greater strength to easily slaughter the specialists they had been assigned to. He gave a long exhale, putting his faith into his brother before descending, forgoing his lamplight and choosing instead to opt for night-vision. Better to maintain the element of surprise when uncertain of who is your ally.

The levels below, ending at sub-level designate "B-5", were free of all but blood and echoes of violence. A shadow moved in the corner, and the Chaplain's eyes were deceived as it proved to be nothing more than a rat that had managed to escape the rampaging Blood Angels. That such a scavenging vermin could evade what more intelligent beings could not was almost enough to make the Chaplain laugh in morbid fascination. However, the time now was not for mirth, but caution.

"This is Chaplain Asbesco of the Blood Angels," he spoke into his vox, "I am returning to the roof. Respond."

"I hear you, Sanguinius." Bile filled the Chaplain's throat as the venom spilled into his ears. His hearts thundered against his ceramite plates as his vision blurred so horribly, he could barely stand. He stumbled to his knee, bolter clattering across the floor. "You've lost your pistol, Brother..."

"You are no brother of mine, Horus!" The words screamed through his mind, like a fiery brand to the center of his skull. In an instant, his staff had been forgotten and replaced by a sword. "I will have your head by the end of this day for what you have done, traitor!"

"ENOUGH!" The Chaplain roared, attempting to silence the echoes of his father's demise. He began a mantra, one he had been taught by his predecessor Chaplain. "My father is dead, but I still live. My father is dead, but I still live."

His heart seemed to calm and the blinding vision of the final days of the Heresy had been replaced with darkness illuminated by a green tint. Sweat poured from the Chaplain's brow, but he felt calm. At peace with his return from the nightmare.

A return accompanied by a roaring Astartes. The Chaplain spun in time to find his Brother Scout charging with revving chainsword and blinding fire in his eyes. The Chaplain rolled away, finding his bolter in his previously empty hand. He fired at his Brother Scout, hoping to grant him the same mercy gifted unto Brother Vanguard Tamenzo, but Silat was too swift on his feet.

"I will have your head by the end of this day, traitor!"

"Reclaim yourself, Ottavio!" The Chaplain called futilely. "You are not our father! I am not Horus! We are Blood Angels! We are brothers!"

"You are no brother of mine!" The chainsword roared in agreement as Silat charged the Chaplain, teeth finding only air and cement to chew. More bolter shells were fired, only to find the same diet as its melee counterpart in its foe's hands. "HORUS!"

Looking around, the Chaplain found other holes and gashes delivered by bolter and blade, those these ones were from before this fight. It seems Brother Silat had been driven mad and began striking at shadows in the dark, mistaking them for the great traitor. If he had not collected himself, would Asbesco share his brother's fate here? Were their father here, he would surely weep to see his sons warring here, where no light can be found, gone and astray from the path of light he'd fought and died for his own father's Imperium of Man.

"HOR-AGH!" Silat found himself blinded in one eye, a stray bullet blinding him of all to his left. Or that's what Asbesco thought until he saw the line glittering in the darkness from the distant light.

"Need any help, Chappy~?" The voice called from the dark. One familiarly upbeat yet commanding. Leading Specialist Ebi had found his way down here, into the dark. "Looks like I caught a big one~!"

"Damn you and your trickery, Horus!" Silat barked, slicing through the line with his chainsword, knocking the specialist off his feet. The Blood Angel Scout charged up the stairs, towards the smaller Atlesian. "Your daemons cannot save you now!"

Clover covered his head, unable to escape the uncomparable speed and roar of the Space Marine and his chainsword. Suddenly, there was a booming thunder, followed shortly by the dying sputter of a small engine. Looking up, he saw the Space Marine laying dead with his head split asunder by a bolter round, and another behind him with a skull-helmet as terrifying as the Grimm Reaper.

"Please," Asbesco held out his hand, "refrain from calling me such names as 'Chappy'."

The walk into the light from the depths was quiet, save for the echoing clatter of Blood Angel boots against the concrete steps. Once on the roof, Leading Specialist Ebi and Chaplain Asbesco met with their teams. Or rather, Specialist Ebi's team and what was left of the Blood Angels. And even here, in the light and the wind, he could still hear him. The traitor.

"Apothecary Antrit."

"Yes, Chaplain?"

"Do you hear that?"

He was quiet. "I'm afraid I'm not certain what you're referring to."

"Then I'm afraid I am also lost." Removing his helmet, Sepharan Asbesco looked to his brother and hefted a heavy sigh. He'd grown tired in this short time, and it was time for him to rest and surrender his fight. "When you return to headquarters, tell them to retrieve me for the Tower."

Leonardo Antrit was stunned. "The Tower?! But Chaplain, that's-"

"Too kind of a mercy, I'm aware." He hefted another sigh, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I am afraid this will be our last meeting, Brother. Have you any final words of advice for me?"

Once more, the Antrit was silent. Then he smiled. "I would refrain from consuming the snow. It does little to hydrate you and only increases your risk of infection."

"Thank you, Apothecary."

"It is my duty, my honor, and my joy, Chaplain." He smiled once more. "Have you any final words of advice for me?"

"I believe my actions will speak greater than any words could suffice."

With a nod, the two parted ways. The Chap- The former chaplain watched his brother board the bullhead and leave with the confused specialists. Looking down from the rooftop, he found beasts of black fur and bone armor and red eyes glaring from below. He looked to his staff, noted the amount of shells left in his bolter, and then leapt into fray.

And in the distance, leading these creatures of Grimm, was the Arch-Traitor himself.

#rwby #warhammer 40k #blood angels #clover ebi #harriet bree #elm ederne #vine zeki #marrow amin

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ananke-xiii · 5 months ago

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Although I mainly see the first six episodes of s13 as an engaging portrayal of two grief-stricken people lacking the tools to deal with what has happened to them, I can also totally see them as the so-called "widower arc". Two things can be true at the same time because yes, Dean was totally grieving Cas' death. But I'll make it worse for you.

Maybe I'm biased by the many times I've read the term "widower arc" but Dean was 100% looking for a consort in Cas in s12 (yes, "consort", I'm tired of "partner" or "boy/girlfriend", they're weak terms, give me "sharing destiny" type of old words) so I think this interpretation is not so far-fetched.

We have a grieving widow(er), a desired consort who's dead and then resurrects and a son who's been defined as "the rising son". As I've already said these are some of the elements of one of the most ancient myths in Western culture, that is the myth of Isis and Osiris.

Now, of course it was not a retelling of that myth, I don't even think it was a conscious effort to shape the story that way but sometimes symbols will be symbols, what can you do?

First of all, two brothers: Set and Osiris and Lucifer and Cas. We know how it goes, one brother kills the other (As an aside in one version Set built a wooden chest and tricked Osiris to enter into it just to seal it and drown it in the Nile. We have totally NEVER seen this image in Supernatural. Not even ONCE).

Things get very interesting from here on because in the myth there's a lot of focus on the body of the deceased brother, Osiris/Cas. The most famous way Set disposed of his brother's corpse was to cut it into pieces, to... tear him apart if you will. It is then kinda WILD that AU!Michael kills "his" Lucifer the same way:

MIchael: I killed my Lucifer. Tore him apart in the skies over Abilene. But hey, can’t get enough of a good thing.

Apparently, the body must be somehow intact for resurrection to happen. In the myth Isis has to find his husband's bodyparts scattered all over Egypt in order to resurrect him. So we need to pay extra close attention to Cas' body which we are actually shown in that tragic scene where Dean prepares him for the pyre. So it's Dean who takes care of Cas' body, who "collects" it, just like Isis. Interesting.

In SPN "What gets burned stays dead", therefore Cas cannot resurrect, or so they think. The mantra is repeated by Jack in "Tombstone" when he first sees his father. To be honest, we don't really know how Cas resurrects. For the first time we see what happens to him between death and rebirth but we miss the technicalities. We can only assume that Cas' ashes were enough. Or maybe, just maybe, that's just a rule that applies in Chuck's story. Just saying.

I'm not sure if they try to discover how Jack managed to do that but the point remains: it was Jack who woke Cas up in the Empty.

And why did he do that? Well, because he can. The very first thing that Jack does is resurrecting Kelly in an episode aptly named "The Future", where Jack is sort of introduced via his mother's resurrection. He doesn't know how to use this power but he unconsciously does it again with his father. And I ask again: why?

Jack wakes Cas up in "The Big Empty", four episodes into the season. He could've done it sooner? No. Because what prompts him to unconsciously act is Dean's grief. And Dean reaches his boiling point when Sam finally provokes him. Osiris/Cas dies and his consort Isis/Dean is inconsolable. Other people like Sam can forget about it, but Dean can't in every sense of the verb.

In the myth it's Isis who resurrects Osiris and has a child, Horus, with him. But she got help. Dean's only human but there is a demi-god running around in his bunker so I think that helped. And Cas must be credited for the effort and the pushing.

Let's just say that resurrecting Castiel took three, actually four people okay? It required a team effort. Because none of them is a fully-fledged god like God or Amara or some Archangel who can just snap their fingers and boom welcome back to Life. Coaxing someone into resurrection (a resurrection with consent) takes a lot of willpower... and a lot of love.

I said four people because the last character in this little story is The Shadow. And we see this in the myth as well!

Isis doesn't "just" resurrect Osiris, she has to convince the motherfucker. Cause, you see, Osiris's heart was tired. A tired heart! Oh so beautiful! He didn't see the reason to go back to life. He was sooo tired. Isis has to literally seduce him back to life. And... this is kind of what The Shadow does, but in reverse? It tells Castiel to go back to sleep, to find peace, it's been in his mind and he wants to sleep, it knows!

The Shadow is Cas' tiredness, all his failures and regrets. But, as I said, it takes a lot of willpower and a lot of love to resurrect the dead, this is what Isis teaches us actually. To love more and then some more. And Cas loves back and he loves hard.

Castiel: You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I’m awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for…ever. For eternity.

He didn't come back because he annoyed an ancient cosmic being. He came back because he loved.

So Osiris/Cas are back to life and that's good, right? Well... yeahhh. The thing is that Osiris will then live in the world of the dead so he kinda doesn't really really stay alive for long. And Isis will follow him. Things will likely go bad for Cas.

But the story continues!

Set/Lucifer and Horus/Jack engage in a rather disturbing (in the myth) struggle for power. The myth has different endings: in one they reconcile, in another they divide the realm, in yet another one Horus is the one true winner. So we don't really know (from this point in the narrative) how things will actually turn out for the two of them.

Isn't it interesting? Well, it's not surprising because there is a connection between christian stories and greek and egyptian ones but still? Kinda cool to see how myths keep repeating and repeating. As if we're still trying to understand them.

Anyway: yes to the widower arc, yes to love piercing through the veil of death. Both ways! It takes the love of two to resurrect.

#for my series: cas and resurrection #on resurrection #spn s13 #supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #lucifer spn #jack kline #the empty spn #myths we live by

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