#a pale procession II: death march

[gardenofkore]

The Normans had a complicated past in the Latin East. As early as the First Crusade, there was an opportunity for the Hautevilles to exert significant authority in the region, one that quickly ended when Roger’s cousin, Bohemond, was captured by Turks as he made his way to Melitene in August of 1100. Bohemond’s imprisonment enabled Baldwin I to claim the throne of Jerusalem uncontested. Had the journey gone differently, it might have been Roger’s first cousin who became king and established a dynasty. But whatever lost opportunity Bohemond’s capture may have represented, it paled in comparison to the one that evaded Roger a little more than a decade later. His mother Adelasia, had been his regent since 1101, the year Roger I died, and by 1112 Roger had begun to rule in his own right. This offered Adelasia an opportunity to accept a marriage proposal from King Baldwin I of Jerusalem. According to William of Tyre, the marriage contract stipulated that if Baldwin and Adelasia had no child of their own, Roger would succeed to the throne when Baldwin died. This arrangement was of particular interest to Roger, and given that Adelasia was in her late thirties and that Baldwin himself was in his late forties or early fifties and — as far as we can tell — had not yet produced any children, it is not difficult to understand why. Unfortunately for Adelasia (and Roger), Baldwin ultimately confessed that their union was bigamous as his marriage to his second wife had not been properly annulled. Susan Edgington notes that the union may have been dissolved partly as a result of pressure from Rome. In addition, though, Baldwin became very ill in 1117, so sick that some wondered if he would die and the kingdom would soon pass to Roger. Some members of the nobility became alarmed at the prospect, and Arnulf oversaw the annulment of the marriage during Easter of the same year. Adelasia was sent home to Sicily soon after, but not before Baldwin had alienated many of the resources she had brought with her from Sicily. She died just a year later, on April 16 — just nine days after Baldwin. For centuries, historians have used her humiliation to explain why Roger was not invested in the Latin East:

Qua redeunte ad propria turbatus est supra modum filius et apud se odium concepit adversus regnum et eius habitatores immortale. Nam cum reliqui fideles diversi orbis principes aut in propriis personis aut inmensis liberalitatibus regnum nostrum quasi plantam recentem promovere et ampliare sategerint, hic et eius heredes usque in presentem diem nec etiam verbo amico nos sibi conciliaverunt, cum tamen quovis alio principe longe commodius faciliusque nostris necessitatibus consilia possent et auxilia ministrare. Videntur ergo iniurie perpetuo memores et delictum persone iniuste in populum refundunt universum.

Dawn Marie Hayes, Roger II of Sicily. Family, Faith, and Empire in the Medieval Mediterranean World, p. 65-66

For more than three years following the wedding there is no information about the royal couple’s conjugal relationship, or Adelaide’s activities, or even her whereabouts. Baldwin seems to have been constantly on the move, fighting for Antioch in the north or against the Ascalonites in the south or exploring into Transjordan and the Sinai desert. However, the validity of the marriage was apparently unchallenged until 1116 when two events coincided. The more important was probably Arnulf’s trip to Rome to argue for his reinstatement as patriarch of Jerusalem. He was successful, but, seemingly, his restoration was conditional on persuading the king to put away his wife. The grounds existed, for although Baldwin had separated from his Armenian wife at some time in the previous decade, there was no annulment of his second marriage and so he was not free to remarry. The following winter, the king fell critically ill and feared he was on the point of death. There was a very real possibility that Baldwin would die without children and the kingdom would pass to a Sicilian heir. Some of the nobility baulked at this, and Arnulf presided over the formal annulment at Easter 1117, incurring the enmity of Sicily to the great detriment of the kingdom, as William of Tyre and modern commentators have agreed. The Sicilian alliance was therefore short-lived and ultimately injurious to the kingdom of Jerusalem. It is redundant to speculate whether the outcome would have been different if Baldwin and Adelaide had produced a child. The alliance failed, and Baldwin’s deteriorating health brought the matter of the succession to the fore. [...]

In 1116, with some 200 knights, Baldwin headed east again, revisiting Montréal, and then south through the desert to the Red Sea. This expedition is thought to have founded a castle in the valley of Moses (Wadi Mūsa) and another at a town on the coast Fulcher called ‘Helim’ (modern Aqaba, Jordan) that they had found abandoned by its inhabitants. On his return to Jerusalem towards the end of 1116, the king became seriously – he feared terminally – ill. Fulcher wrote that this was the reason Baldwin repudiated his Sicilian wife; William expanded Fulcher’s simple statement of fact to involve Baldwin’s seeking the advice of the clergy and trying to explain himself to Adelaide, who was not appeased. William, of course, could see the longer-term consequences of the failure of the Sicilian alliance. Albert of Aachen’s independent account of the same expedition and its aftermath added some interesting details. He did not, apparently, know about the deserted town Helim, but wrote only that the king and his men bathed in the Red Sea when they reached it, as relief from the intense heat, and ate fish. While there, Baldwin heard about St Catherine’s Monastery in the Sinai desert, and he was keen to visit it for prayer and conversation, but the monks sent messengers to dissuade him because they did not want to draw attention to the monastery lest they be expelled from it by the Saracens. Although this tale is uncorroborated, it rings true, for St Catherine’s is a Greek Orthodox foundation and has maintained its presence until today partly because of a willingness to accommodate politicalrealities.Baldwin abandoned his plan to visit the monastery and returned to Jerusalem via Hebron, pausing only to raid the plains of Ascalon for camels, cattle, sheep and goats on his way. Albert gave the date of the onset of Baldwin’s serious illness as the beginning of March 1117, technically still winter but later than Fulcher implied, and Albert wrote that the king was in Acre. Baldwin genuinely believed he was on his deathbed, for he ordered that his worldly wealth was to be distributed: part went to the poor, along with a dole of food and wine; part to his household; and part to his soldiers, both his own and those serving for pay. However, Albert claimed that the king made a full recovery. He did not report whether thegifts were revoked but did write that the Egyptian fleets that had put in at Tyre when the Saracens heard of the king’s illness now sailed home without attacking. Another discrepancy from Fulcher’s undoubtedly better informed account is that Albert placed Arnulf’s visit to Rome to exculpate himself after the king’s recovery from his sickness. It was Arnulf who then insisted, on the pope’s orders, that Baldwin repudiate his wife because his marriage to Adelaide was adulterous and unlawful. Arnulf added a charge of consanguinity between Baldwin and Adelaide, although this had passed unremarked in 1113, and he formalised the process of annulment by convoking a council in the church of the Holy Cross in Acre. ‘Sad and grieving, released by synodal law from the marriage bond, the lady sailed back to Sicily’, while Baldwin, Albert claimed, exercised ‘wonderful abstinence and chastity’ from then onward. Thus, although the two writers differed on theexact sequence of events, they agreed that the king’s illness was a precipitating factor in his repudiation of Adelaide. Certainly, he may have felt the prick of conscience and wanted to die absolved of his sins. Nevertheless, it is probable that there was also considerable pressure from his vassals and the senior clergy: the marriage to Adelaide had not provided the king with an heir, and according to the terms of the agreement Roger of Sicily would inherit the kingdom of Jerusalem if the king were to die while the marriage endured. The reminder of the king’s mortality made the matter of the succession urgent, and it is inconceivable that the matter was dropped as soon as the king made a recovery. In the short term, Baldwin appeared to regain full health, and with his accustomed energy he was mindful that two coastal cities remained unconquered. First he built a castle called ‘Scandalion’ within five miles of Tyre and garrisoned it ‘to confine the city’. He then embarked on a major expedition early in 1118 aimed, so Albert said, at conquering Egypt and thus removing its support for Ascalon that threatened pilgrims going to and from Jerusalem. [...]

The accounts of Guibert and William, the one separated by distance and the other by time from the scandal, share certain features, most importantly the legitimacy of Baldwin’s marriage to Arda so that the separation a thoro was not an annulment, which was the only way Baldwin would be free to take a third wife. Yet Baldwin did not seek dissolution of the marriage from the pope. Admittedly, it would be difficult because the usual convenient ground, consanguinity, was not available. Nevertheless, the curia was likely to be sympathetic, especially if adultery could be proven. (Notably, non-consummation does not seem to have been considered, at least before Mayer.) In this interpretation of Guibert’s tale and as made explicit by William, the motif of chasing the unpaid dowry in Constantinoplerecurs. It seems likely that failure to lay his hands on Arda’s dowry in full was the real reason behind Baldwin’s repudiation of his wife. Importantly, by consigning his wife to a nunnery, Baldwin was abandoning hope of engendering an heir. For somewhere between five and ten years he lived, apparently, a celibate life.

Baldwin’s bigamous marriage to Adelaide of Sicily appears ill advised on almost every level. It is easy to interpret it as a last desperate attempt to make a political alliance that would bring wealth and other resources for the defence of the kingdom. In the short term, it was successful in this: the resources Adelaide brought with her to Jerusalem were described towards the end of the previous chapter, along with Baldwin’s rejection of her four years later. There is no information about how much time the royal couple spent together. On this and the whole subject of Baldwin’s third marriage the testimony of William of Malmesbury is interesting, although – or because – it differs so radically from William of Tyre’s. First, while conceding that the match was to make good Baldwin’s losses, he wrote explicitly that it was ‘for legitimate marriage’ (ad legitimum conubium). William agreed with the other chroniclers about the great riches Adelaide brought with her ‘to the king’s bedroom’, but added rather sourly ‘where the woman had amassed such infinite piles of precious goods from might seem a matter of wonder to anyone’. Baldwin ‘admitted her to his marriage bed’ (illam thoro recepit) but dismissed her soon afterwards. The reason for this, ‘they said’ (aiunt), was that Last years and legacy she was afflicted by an incurable illness and a cancer had consumed her genitals. From this William concluded: ‘One thing is certain, the king was without offspring; it was no wonder if a man for whom to be at leisure was to become unwell shrank from wifely embraces and spent his whole life in battles.’ The inescapable ambiguity is whether Baldwin dreaded all wifely embraces, or only Adelaide’s, as appears to be the implication. However that may be, and even if the story of the cancer, which William reported as hearsay, is completely untrue, William may have encapsulated a truth: throughout his reign Baldwin’s energies were absorbed by constant military campaigns, and in his last years he may have been suffering increasingly from illness whenever a pause from them allowed.

Susan B. Edgington, Baldwin I of Jerusalem, 1100-1118, p. 167; 174-175; 184-185

#women #history #history of women #women in history #historical women #Adelasia del Vasto #baldwin i of jerusalem #Roger II of Sicily #House of Hauteville #norman swabian sicily #people of sicily #women of sicily #myedit #historyedit

[parjiljehavey]

let the years we’re here be kind - iii

As always, set in @ninjacat1515‘s Vampire AU after the Peninsular War (1808-1814). 

Prior to the outbreak of the Peninsular War in 1808, the King and Queen of Spain were vampires. To me, they were Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon. Isabella and Ferdinand were deposed in 1808 and disappeared.

Napoleon was descended from a slayer/hunter family, and began imposing an anti-vampirical regime in Spain. 

By 1811, Spain’s vampire populace and the mortals who supported the vampires were in full rebellion. Joseph Bonaparte abdicated in 1813 and returned to France (taking many of the Spanish Crown Jewels with him in the process).

With the disappearance of Isabella and Ferdinand, the question of who would be Spain’s new monarch was raised. Many supported, and even outright demanded, that Armando Salazar and Marisol Ortega take the thrones in their place, as they were key leaders (military and domestic respectively) during the war. 

Ultimately, the throne went to a distant relation of Isabella and Ferdinand, Ferdinand VII (as he was called by the mortals), and later his hybrid daughter, Isabella II. 

Another distant relation of Isabella and Ferdinand, Carlos, contested Isabella’s accession to the throne and began the First Carlist War, which lasted from 1833 to 1840.

Glimpses at Lesaro and his lady sharpshooter (I should probably name her), after she was given the Gift, ranging from 1814 to 1840.

Shout out to ninjacat1515 for putting up with my incessant questions!

i / ii 

i. August 1814

He could taste just how close to death she had been. Her blood tasted like soured wine. 

ii. October 1814

Her eyes were a burning violet. 

iii. September 1814

Lesaro wasn’t surprised in the slightest when she got stuck in a tree after flying for the first time. 

iv. March 1818

A spell gone wrong resulted in her hair going from a pale blonde to a rich chestnut.

v. May 1824

She was starting to become quite skilled with hypnosis.  

vi. January 1828

Her eyesight had improved after accepting the Gift. Shooting had never been more fun. 

vii. September 1833

She had eight fangs into total. The top two were the longest.

viii. August 1834

Sometimes, she thought about how sick she was before she accepted the Gift. Sometimes, she still feels the dryness that once preceded coughing.

ix. July 1835

She enjoyed sunbathing in her other form. He’d join her, sometimes. 

The sight of a wolf curled up with a housecat must be equal parts hilarious and alarming. 

x. February 1836

He handed her a handkerchief to clean her face with. Her smile was fanged and brilliant.

xi. May 1835

The freckles on her face and the tan of her skin were usually a give away that she worked outside once. 

xii. June 1838

He remembers just how close to death she had been, before the Gift. He won’t ever forget that taste. 

She had had days left. 

xiii. July 1840

She whispered to him quietly, leaning against his shoulder. 

xiv. August 1840

He whispered her name reverently. 

#vampire au #potc dmtnt #potc fanfic #dmtnt #lesaro #lieutenant lesaro #guillermo lesaro #lesaro x oc #otp: tell me of passionate strangers

[for-peace-war]

art by @idrawbuffgirls​

This is likely the second to last piece I’ll be able to do before an in-game event moves the party forward, but it’s one that I think will place things in perspective to some degree.  Another hour and a half write, which means I need to get faster.  Still, was fun!

Also, Kelzack really came through on that art.  BOOM!

THE TEMPLE OF LONGING.

Follows: Prologue.

Follows Part I.

Part II

VITHIKA THE VENDHYAN’S veiled view of the valley from her vaunted vantage availed little value to her virtuous—verily, villainous—vanity.  Satrap Mostafa’s pleasure caravan, which to that point was far too much caravan and far too little pleasure, had moved but a gavyuti by the day and two more at night.  The sand was a sea that swam about them, with each step causing her palanquin to rise with the tide and settle back as the next was made.  In addition to the tedium that had settled over them, it was more than enough to encourage sleep—but what good was sleep, she could not but wonder, if there was not someone nearby to keep her company?

In that, she supposed, she could almost blame herself for her solitude.

The other palanquins had been forced to carry two women in addition to what valuables they could pack onto them, seeing a total of six that made their way in the caravan through the Zuagir Desert.  Vithika’s palanquin, at the head of the procession, held but herself, a few chests laden with jewels and gold, and the rapid hissing that came from Satrap Mostafa’s prized viper—an alabaster miscreant with bright red eyes and a mouth as black as the soul of the man that kept her.  That snake, which even in winter seemed to be hot blooded, proved more than a challenge to any that sought to handle it.  Any that was, save for she: it had come to her like an old friend, and she in turn had been given space to stretch out on the long, slow march that was before them.

If—and the if which qualified that was a contested one—but if the eunuchs that guarded her palanquin were to be believed—and once more, belief come of something which wanted for a scrotum was to her a foolish endeavor—then there were still several yojana between themselves and the comfort of a luxurious bath.  They had been given adequate means to bath themselves, of course, for when the satrap’s war games came to their end they would needs must be prepared to receive him, but there was something different between a swift cleansing and the glory that was relaxing within steaming water and expensive oils.  Oh, how she missed that delight—how she could not wait for the damned desert to be left behind.  

The heat was not something that bothered her.  She had suffered more—and worse—some time ago, before she had come to be within the satrap’s prized possessions, carted along with lesser beauties at the side of strapping, cockless takabara.  None were quite able to tell very much about her, and she in turn inclined little to sharing.  After all, who needed to know where she was from when where she was at present provided all the entertainment needed?  The rumors of her origin were many and at times, she had taken the ear of one of the guards to learn them at length.

They all seemed to agree that she was Vendhyan—perhaps from Peshkhauri, because the women of the northern regions were fair-skinned and proud, resultant from the colder climes and the spicier foods. Of course, there were claims by some—likely those that had never been to Peshkhauri—that she was one of Ayodhya or likely the Jhumda River’s small towns, and that in fact her father was a fishmonger that had sold her to a brothel when she was but a girl.  And then there was the nastiest rumor—that her nose, which had been derided as hooked to a point, marked her as decidedly Shemitish, so it was more like she had descended from—or perhaps been born the direct bastard of a Shemite trader that had settled in Gwandiakhan.

She did not need to tell them that she did not feel her nose was particularly hooked or that she had never been partial to the taste of fish, though.  So long as they were crafting rumors about what they believed they knew of her, they had precious little time to consider what they did not.

And that, in truth, was everything.

“How do you tolerate the heat, Shweta?” She asked the snake. Though few of its kind would have thought to slide along her arm, as she extended it the white creature rose and with due loyalty entwined itself upon her, so that when she held it to her veiled face their eyes were nearly on level with one another. “Does it not torment you to be trapped and yet full of life?”

Shweta the Snake’s tongue flicked once.  Against the black of its mouth, it was a dull red.

She thought to flick her tongue back.  So she did.

“This is all too slow.”  The sentiment carried more within it than she cared to share with any living creature—her silent serpentine sister, included.  Over the horizon she could see more sand that basked under a pale blue sky, and beyond it the faint hint of white clouds that rose like fading plumes of smoke from a fire that had long since been vanquished.  Her eyes, more green than blue, focused on those wisps with a certain longing—an undeniable, unmistakable eagerness. It was fortunate indeed that she was alone, for the first glimpse of her true nature might have been the end of the many falsehoods that surrounded her.

Shweta slithered off her arm and returned to a darkened pouch within the bottom of the palanquin, while she in turn lazed back and rested her head against the opened port nearest her.  Little air moved across the desert, but when the slaves carting them moved she was reminded of what it meant to be in motion, truly.  Already had perished of exhaustion in their limited movement, which made her consider just who it was that had been assigned to move them. Proper slaves would have seen it as a delightful exercise: a few fathoms a day, no more?  And soldiers, well—if Turanian soldiers could not move a few women reliably, then what chance did they stand against the Aquilonian host that swelled to the west?

No, these weakened slaves—these pathetic creatures were something else.

They were something more pathetic than all of that.  She could smell it—they were human.

It had been her impetus, albeit masked as the idle mewling of a kitten, that had seen the pleasure palace moved.  Satrap Mostafa’s supposedly poor showing at Aklat had been well staged: he had baited the Aquilonians into taking a city he cared little for, and they saw it invested with three legions that were then certainly preparing for some form of foolhardy gambit.  The Aquilonians would make their move and the Turanians would answer.  What followed was likely to be bloodshed that would stain the sands and make men do what they did best—kill each other for relatively little gain.

Yet, to see the satrap convinced to move them was no simple thing.  It required fear—fear, real and imagined—joined with the delicate sensuality that the notion aroused in men. Beneath the gruesome iron mask that he wore, Satrap Mostafa was not an ugly man: he had long features, draw over bones that made him seem longer yet, and held an almost lupine glare to his light brown eyes.  His face was clean-shave, revealing a mouth that was somewhat wide and his nose was tragically flat.  His ears were neither large nor small—his back, straight but his body not overtly muscled. Most beautiful about him, she felt, was his hair—long and a rich black, that he wore braided in battle and long when abed.  He could kill men, he had told her, but he disliked fighting—and he could fuck women, he reminded her, but he disliked games.

The seeing of the man did not make him seen, though.  Satrap Mostafa was not an easily read men, even if his lusts could be rolled off one’s tongue—or taken onto it, if the mood found him.  The mask he wore in battle was a finite and heavy thing, yet it seemed immaterial to those which he wore over his heart.  With cold eyes she had seen him dispassionately force two women to fight to the death for his own amusement; those same cold eyes had offered her of golden trinkets after she had slain her foe.  He was less crafty than cunning and less wise than weary.

But he was a man.

He was a man that possessed—she must admit—a rather nicely sized cock.

He was a man that liked to place that cock in things that did not have one.

And thus, he was hers.  In the end, they always were.

It was fear of being captured—fear of being taken away from him, that set things to motion.  She did not need overly much to convince him that her fear was genuine, for he had taken her from the hands of captors that had taken her from captors as well.  When the Zuagirs traded her away, it had been with the expectation they were seeing their lives spared.  To win her trust he had asked her what she wished of him—and so she said their heads.  That had seen his cold eyes fall upon her for the first time that night.

That night, they fucked in a brew made of Zuagir blood and the fine wines of Trabatis, off the coast of Argos. He had licked it from her; she had sucked it from him.  It was not an arrangement that had been unseemly in the slightest and yet, it had not been intended either.  That she had ever been captured—that she had been bartered, were but chains in a mistaken chain that she had not yet corrected.  But she was so very close to that correction then—she was so close that she could taste it, like the sweet flesh of a mango at long last ripened and bursting free its skin.

So they were send toward the Ibaris Mountains, where surely there would be no Aquilonians there to disturb them.  Mostafa would win his battle and return to them—to her, and know the worship that a conqueror deserved.  Through skill, guile, and her finesse had his amassed wealth worthy of a sultan, yet his close ties to Turanian royalty had prevented him from taking the next step that he needed to make.  She knew, in the bottom of his heart, he had believed she would be that step he required.

And she knew, with all of her heart, that she would not be there to take it with him.

But they were moving too slowly—it was all moving too slowly.

She stuck her head out of the palanquin and looked to the side.  They had been forbidden from revealing themselves to others, and the moment she did so a large-bodied Darfari savage whose cock had been removed but tongue yet worked, moved close to block her from view.

“Little One,” Wagih said to her in strained Turanian, “what do you think you are doing?”

She looked at him—looked into his bloodshot red eyes, and admired the strong musculature of the body beneath his light armor.  He carried an immense polearm at his side, with a bladed head that seemed likely to pierce the heavens if he lifted it at his master’s command.  The Darfari and their Yoggish kin had been bred to feast on the flesh of men.

With time, though, they could be taught to eat of a woman’s palm.

“These are miserable slaves, are they not?”

“Truly pathetic, yes.”

To some, perhaps, they were both of them slaves—and Vithika, honestly, would have felt no different—yet they had the appropriate designation of being called more than that: she a concubine, he a warden, and together they were above those which carried them about.  She did not lower her voice, but instead spoke to him in his native tongue—a sound that might have been harsh on the ears of another, but she knew that as she purred her words from behind her veil, it made the cock he wished he had stiffen in whatever black stomach it then occupied.

“Too pathetic.”

He eyed her with his eyes, flaked red from nature’s design. “You speak in riddles.”

“Why are they so weak? These slaves—these miserable creatures.”  She did not speak in Darfari to mollify the slaves, of course. In fact, she could have spit upon one and he would have gladly licked it up for the chance at moisture.  No, she spoke for one reason and one alone—a reason that the Wagih knew well.  It was because she was different.

It was because she cared about him.

Even without their cocks, it seemed, men were easily misled.

“They were not always slaves,” he said.  The grin he gave her was ugly and revealed teeth that had been capped gold to ward off rot.

“At least not collared ones,” she said.

The eunuch laughed a dry sound. “Yes, they are not collared ones.”

She looked past Wagih toward one of the men carrying her palanquin.  He had a slight build, with sweat that pooled off a body both somewhat skinny and fat at the same time.  His skin sagged; the sun had turned him a bright red, yet the nape of his neck was partially white where his hair had once been, and the baking of the sun had inflamed it to a point of bursting in small sores.

These were indeed no men that were meant for labor.

“The ministers.”  She said. Wagih’s bloody eyes twinkled in response.

“Conceal yourself, Little One.  I do not desire the whip this day.”

She pouted behind her ask, which made her eyes appear doe-like. “Did I do something wrong, then?”

“—Well, not the whip from the satrap, at least.”

A parting wink was all she offered him before she resumed her place and he took to walking at the side of her palanquin once more.  After a moment she heard the strap of leather at his side crack soundly and one of the men—likely the miserable old minister that had been walking—cry out before the palanquin swayed.

“Drop her and you die a thousand deaths, worm,” Wagih said, outside.

How lovely a man he was, even without his cock.

Shweta slithered free her hiding place and wound herself back her arm once more, then moved to brush against her cheek.  The snake was cool despite the head, and she lifted a hand to brush along its fine scales, petting it in a way that only she knew how.  The ministers had likely displeased the satrap by countermanding him and now they, the most expendable of his fallen court, were set to move away his most valuable possessions.  Often, she knew, they must have looked at others—herself included—and questioned how any could survive servitude when the blade was so close at hand.

Slit your throat.

Choose freedom!

An empty sentiment—an empty sentiment meant for those that did not know freedom was the lie masters told so that slaves would behave with more care. How free were those proud, bearded men when they were beaten by cockles Wagih or forced to cart about the women they had once derided and abused when time permitted them to do so?  No, slavery was not a choice—it was a reality, and they had lived a life free its samsaran reprimand long enough.  Let the crack of the whip find them; it was but torment that motivated their movement.

“Still too slow,” she said.  Far off in the distance, where the blue sky danced with white clouds, she recalled dreaming of a terrible storm that manifested where the blue fell, and invited a spanning darkness to stretch over all and cover it in the sands of times long since gone. She had awakened from that dream drenched in sweat and used a nearby girl to see her anxiety relaxed before returning to a light sleep—but the image had not faded from her, nor had the message it carried with it.

That dream had not been a warning—it was a mandate. Had she truly wished to be free of her captivity, then she might have found a dozen ways to escape from Satrap Mostafa.  He was no man greater than any other she had deceived, and certainly he was not one that could claim to have a greater depth of darkness in him than that which she had crawled free from.  The lessons she had learned as a child—dancing to the crack of the whip, or the sharp hiss of burning flesh, were lessons that had prepared for not merely this world, but the one that came before it and that which would follow.

No, she was slow—too slow, because she had become comfortable.  Lazy. ��She had enjoyed being pampered and played with; knowing the pleasures of the palace and the depravity of the dungeon beneath it.  Just as the ministers that struggled about her had forgotten their place in the world, so too had she.  The promises she made—the vows she had taken, were not to be put off any longer. Life and death had been entwined about her for so long that she had at last luxuriated in the former and allowed the latter to become jealous.

And as any jealous lover would, Death had finally come to exact its vengeance.

She stopped her inspection of the snake as she felt a scale flick away.  Between two fingers she carefully picked it up and held it to her face.  Shweta flicked her tongue against her hand, but she minded that pale, translucent remnant of a life fading before her eyes. “You are not wrong,” she said. “It is near time this skin was shed as well.”

Vithika the Vendhyan, the voluptuous vixen of vaunted vivacity, let the scale fall from her finger and watched it catch upon the faint yawn of a distant wind, before it was lost in the sand. They were moving too slowly—too slowly, she knew. For that which she had escaped—that which they had all escaped, had not been left behind.

Across fathoms of lifeless sand, a terrible howl rose to protest its ire against the trembling sky.   Those that guarded the caravans began to seek shelter and a safer route, but she knew it would be to little avail.  That which approached would consume them all—as it had before, and as it would again.  

“It is here,” the Stygian said. “It has found me.”

#conan #writing exercise #vithika the vendhyan

[atlaslain]

five times almost kissed 👀

x.     /      @backwaterheroics

i.       missions with cloud are zack’s favourite.  his presence is a thrill of anticipation down zack’s spine, a draw to move into his space and goad him to keep up — the way he always does. the guy’s soldier in every way zack is, except for the mako scorching like fresh lightning through his blood. the way cloud grins at him, crooked and challenging, provokes zack to show off. he’s yet to examine the feeling too closely, because the way it pulls at him is terribly reminiscent of a crush and he can’t go getting one of those one someone he shares assignments with. ( he’ll never make first class if angeal finds out how easily distracted he is by pretty blondes with attitudes. ) 

today’s mission’s protective detail — they’ve collected a case-load of something-or-other for professor hojo to research, and they’re travelling by train back to the shinra building to deliver it. the details, evidently, are classified. zack’s a little put-off by the volume of infantrymen, plus himself, required to guard one simple case. it all goes smoothly ‘til they hit sector four and the train rocks with the force of a controlled explosion. it screeches on the tracks but rumbles on, except now it’s carrying a contingent of wutai troops. zack, somehow in charge here, wants to imagine the shake of his hands is excitement instead of nervousness. he’s never been in charge — he’s only second class, for crying out loud! he doesn’t know what he’s doing! if he gets these people killed…but cloud’s there, nudging his arm in what zack’d like to imagine is solidarity, and he sucks in a deep breath and begins barking orders. they fight off the enemy, riddling the train with bullet-holes in the process. zack and cloud wind up atop the train, back-to-back, wind pummeling them and dwindling wutai troops shooting at them. cloud yells something, half-lost in the noise, about how he always winds up getting shot at when he hangs out with zack. zack laughs, exhilarated, and performs an entirely over-the-top maneuver involving firaga materia and a backflip. he glances at cloud out the corner of his eye, checks if he’s watching. instead, he catches sight of cloud diving toward him — managing, somehow, to knock zack flat to the surface of the train’s roof, avoid the spray of bullets pelting toward him, and shoot the offending enemy troop at the same time. all the breath’s knocked from zack’s lungs. they’ve won, the enemy’s gone, and he’s laying atop a speeding train with cloud still on top of him, breathing hard. fuck, he could kiss him right now. he’d be a distraction — but zack wants cloud to distract him now. can’t stop watching his mouth. he could …but he won’t. shouldn’t. he grabs his phone instead, angles it so they’re both in the shot, and snaps a photo of them laughing in the aftermath of the fight. he’ll blame his not-so-smart urges on the post-battle high.

ii.       the sleepover is unplanned.   cloud just invites himself in, the same way he marched into zack’s heart and stubbornly carved out a space for himself. he plonks himself down on zack’s bed and proceeds to divest himself of weaponry — he’s been on patrol all night, as evidenced by the faint shadows beneath his eyes and the tired roughness of his voice. he should be going to his own room to sleep, but here he is insisting zack needs company and they’re going to talk it all out tonight. zack’s evening plans hadn’t particularly consisted of cloud strife in his bed demanding he cry all his feelings about his dead mentor out, but he guesses he can roll with it. he does crave company: it’s lonely with only his guilt and grief to cling to. cloud showers and then wrinkles his nose at the clothing zack offers up for him: a novelty cactuar shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pants. zack’s heart does little flips at the sight of cloud in his clothing, hair a little damp and sticking to the sides of his face, eyes soft with tiredness and concern. he’s — too much. zack doesn’t deserve this. he shuffles awkwardly to make room on the bed, feels it dip as a warm weight settles at his side. their arms are pressed together. zack, aiming for his usual tactile nonchalance, drapes his legs across cloud’s and pretends it isn’t making his throat tighten up with nerves. “you don’t have to talk, you know,” cloud says suddenly, a departure from his earlier insistence, and zack turns to meet his eyes. “i just didn’t want you to feel alone.”and there he goes again, chiseling out more space for himself in zack’s heart. “then what d’you suggest we do all night?” zack asks, rolling on his side to fully face cloud, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to come out so low and suggestive but it does. it’s not like he hasn’t flirted with cloud before; he’s only human. but that’s casual flirtation, pick-up lines and cheek-kisses, easily mistaken for playfulness — that’s not this, them in a small bed with only thin layers between them and a thousand emotions all stirred up. maybe it’s the light, but he could almost fool himself into believing cloud looks tempted: he’s watching zack with his lips slightly parted, as if deciding how to respond. zack almost thinks they could do this. if he leaned in, if he caught cloud’s lips the way he always wants to, they could… but it’d be wrong. he’d hate himself if it happened this way, if he risked their friendship just because he felt lonely and confused and upset. if he put them on the line just for the sake of propping up his own self-esteem. he’s never wanted to badly to be weak. “sleep.” zack answers his own question roughly, shakily. “we should sleep.” he doesn’t know how to interpret the look that crosses cloud’s face. but he doesn’t leave. that’s what matters. hesitant, zack reaches out for him — arms taking a loose hold and drawing him carefully close. “is this okay?”if they could just … be close, tonight. that’s all he wants. he buries his face in cloud’s shoulder and thinks he finds more comfort in the fingers stroking through his hair than he would’ve if he’d given into the temptation of a kiss. 

iii.       “i hate you so much. you’re such an idiot,”   cloud’s grumbling, and zack grins wider with every word. i’m your idiot, he thinks but doesn’t say — can’t say, really, due to the rather disturbing cocktail of status effects currently bombarding his system. he’s silenced, for sure — cloud keeps insisting he deserves that one and it’s nice to have some peace and quiet. he’s likely confused too, given that he can’t seem to make his body do what his brain wants it to: keeps trying to walk, only to trip over his own feet. eventually, cloud gets tired of it and heaves zack’s arm over his shoulders, half-dragging him out of the malboro nest. zack hiccups and nestles his face into cloud’s neck, flinching against the newest round of poison damage. “just had to get a selfie with the giant malboro!” cloud’s ranting, as they wind their way unsteadily back toward the van. the rest of the troop’s yet to return, but emergency medical supplies should be stocked there. “this is just like that time with the frog! don’t give me that look — you know that was your own dumb fault.” zack mouths ‘sorry’ but imagines he looks rather more amused than apologetic.cloud hauls him into the back of the van and sets him on a bench. zack’s head lolls uselessly to one side. he considers napping, but then cloud’s coming back with his hands full of remedies and potions. he settles at zack’s side and it’s clear in his expression that the force of his anger’s easing back into mild concern. he just about stuffs the remedy down zack’s throat, then has him down the potion for good measure. almost immediately, the status effects begin to dissipate. “i c’n talk again!” he crows, a little slurred and loopy. he grins entirely too widely and slings his arms about cloud’s shoulders, trapping him in a hug. he peppers cloud’s cheek with kisses before he can think better of it. “you always take care of me. y’know i’d do the same for you, right? right?”cloud huffs something affirmative about how zack’s more trouble than he’s worth, but doesn’t wiggle out of the hug.  “i mean it,” zack insists, and plants one last kiss to the very corner of cloud’s mouth. it’s too close for comfort to what he really wants to do. some rational part of his mind says stop, think this through and he pauses, draws back an inch. this feeling is becoming awfully familiar: the sensation of the world slowing while he talks himself down from ruining their friendship. he’s horribly aware of his skin tingling wherever he touches cloud, heat tripping over it like he’s sitting too close to a fire. his heart slams against his ribs. he almost wants to be tired of the way cloud seems to tap into his body’s responses without doing a damn thing, but zack knows he’ll never be sick of this. he grumbles under his breath and draws away.“i mean it,” he repeats. “y’know i love you, right, man?”

iv.       he’s never been scared of dying.   he signed away his right to a peaceful life when they strapped him down for his first mako surgery all those years ago. death was an eventuality, inevitable after a life of pain and blood. he’s just happy he found something worth dying for.it’s nice to see cloud awake again. zack’s missed the colour of his eyes. he’s ghostly-pale and trembling, dirt-caked from dragging himself through the bloodied battlefield to get here, and zack smiles peacefully at the sight of him. he’s alive. he’s going to make it. it’s easier, then, to accept that it’s time to go. ( harder, though, to swallow down the phantom sensation of missing out. he’s not gonna get to be part of cloud’s life anymore, huh? )he doesn’t think he has long left. blood bubbles in his throat when he speaks and the pain of the bullets caught in his bones has splintered off to a numb, detached sensation. ah — that’s a shame. there’s a lot he wishes he had time to say. there’s just enough strength left in him to lift his arm and grasp cloud’s hair, dragging him nearer. zack holds him there and thinks about kissing him. just one kiss to send him off. but cloud looks devastated enough as it is, eyes stretched wide with his horror and the clear understanding there’s nothing he can do. it’d be so unromantic to kiss him now. sheesh. zack fair can’t be remembered as an unromantic kisser! he chokes back a laugh and, hand shaking, pulls cloud to his chest instead. it feels important, somehow, that his last heartbeats be heard. his blood sticks to cloud’s face and hair. you’ll be my living legacy. — yes. the proof he existed. cloud’ll live. goodnight, zack.he doesn’t hear deepground’s helicopters land, nor feel them drag him on board.

v.       he hasn’t wanted to kiss anyone in years.   he thinks deepground deadened that part of him, hollowed him out and left him cold. all he’s wanted is to survive the dark. the opportunity to want someone again doesn’t present itself until after he’s crawled out of there alive, after he’s shakily begun to tread the path toward healing. if deepground was the dark, cloud strife is the storm razing it away.the first time zack sees him again, it doesn’t quite click back into place. he doesn’t think, oh yeah! i’m in love! — because that’ll come later, much later. he just wants to kiss someone for the first time in years. but cloud is distant and unresponsive in his arms, and he shakes like he might fall apart if zack touches him again. so zack doesn’t kiss him. he lets him go.he supposes one day, the timing might just be right.

#backwaterheroics #● fanmail [ answered ]. #THIS. WAS A MONSTER TO WRITE #zack pines for cloud: a novel by kit

[postrock-instrumental]

Post-rock & Post-metal: The 50 Best Releases of 2018 [THE LARGER SHORTLIST OF ALMOST 300]

This coming Monday, 17th of December, we’ll publish our selection of the 50 best post-rock and post-metal releases to come out of 2018. There were over 700 releases on our original list, which was later narrowed down to a shortlist of nearly 300. The upcoming “50 Best” list was culled from this shortlist of nearly 300 releases, which you can see below if you want to use it for some purpose. If you don’t want to miss the upcoming “50 Best” list, you can follow the links below: facebook.com/postrock.instrumental twitter.com/postrock_music facebook.com/arcticdrones twitter.com/arcticdrones --- FULL LIST 1099 – Blindpassasjer 42DE – Fall Of The Moon A Film In Color – They March In Endless Circles A Storm Of Light – Anthroscene A World In Grayscale – The Process Of Passing Time Aesthesys – Achromata Aikira – Light Cut All You’ve Seen –  Synopsis XVI Anatomy Of The Bear – Alysu Antarte – Isole Antorchas – Aphelion April Rain – To Whom It May Concern Arcadian Waves – Above The Mountains Archelon – Tribe Of Suns Ares One – Optimist Arhios – Arhios Around The World In 80 Days – Dissonance Astodan – Ameratat Astronauta Marinho – Perspecta A-Sun Amissa – Ceremony In The Stillness Augure – Omina Aurora Borealis – Goodbye Autumn Creatures – Funeral Garden   Autumn Moonlight – Passangers Babel Fish – Follow Me When I Leave Baikonur – Nihil Per Saltum Bear The Mammoth – Years Under Glass Below A Silent Sky – A View From Afar Beyond The Event Horizon – Far Blanket – How To Let Go Bound – No Beyond BRUIT – Monolith Built-In Obsolescence – Instar Cataya – Firn Cats Never Die – Stay At Home Cavern – Eater Celestial Wolves – Call Of The Void CEVEO – Jordsand Charus – Mundus Cereris Ciempies – Intérprete Del Espacio Circadian Eyes – A Future Nostalgic City Of The Lost – Master Martin Rescue Cloud Anthems – Areté Coastlands – The Further Still Cold, Cold Heart – Arch Craters – Laurentian Abyss Crippled Black Phoenix – Great Escape Crno Dete – Neponovljivo Crows In The Rain — Ashes Of The Past Culak – Oblivion Dan Caine – Nocturne   Darius – Clôture Dark Matter – The Sovereign Night Darker Shapes – Kavik Dawnlit – True North DDENT – Toro Deafheaven – Ordinary Corrupt Human Love   Degree Of Arc – Raptures Dep – We Are The Lights That Will Not Go Out Des Astres – Des Plans Sur La Comète Dios Trio – II Distant Dream – Your Own Story Doomina – Orenda Doppälgängär – Melencholia Dûrga – De Lira Ire Earthholder – There Will Be A Future Edelveiss – Skull   Efrim Manuel Menuck – Pissing Stars Eigengrau – Radiant El Ten Eleven – Banker’s Hill El Tubo Elástico – Impala Elephant Gym – Underwater Elhombreanormal – La Unión De Distintos Vientos Elizabeth The Last – Elizabeth The Last   Empathy Forever Empty – All Monsters Are Human Encircling Sea – Hearken Epic45 – Through Broken Summer Feed Me To The Waves –  Before This Wilderness Consumes Us FERE – Montedor Feroces – Josephine First Came The Shadow – Premonition Flares –  Allegorhythms Floating In Space – Dreamland Follows – Nyctophile For Dummies – For Dummies Forest Mountain – Prisma Foxhole – Well Kept Thing   From Oceans To Autumn – Leave Me Here Future Usses – The Existential Haunting Gespenst – Oblivion Gift Of Blindness – Wasteland Giraffes? Giraffes! – Memory Lame Girih – Eigengrau   Glasir – New Dark Age God Is An Astronaut – Epitaph Grand Tétras – Abiogenèse Grito – Endless Grottos – Тетис / Tethys H A : Z E – Passage Hæster – All Anchors No Sails Halocraft – Chains For The Sea Hammock – Far Cry 5 Presents: We Will Rise Again (OST) Hammock – Universalis Hauste – Leavings Have The Moskovik – Papier Vinyle Heklaa – 1491 Hesperian Death Horse – Živ Hold Down The Ocean – The Symmetry Of Odd Numbers Holy Fawn – Death Spells Hope The Flowers/Pleiades – Gates To Universe HUEY – MA Human Factor – Let Nature Take Its Course Hundred Year Old Man – Breaching Hyedra – Hyedra I Am No Hero – Cyberpunk   I Am Wolves – ABCD IAH – II   If Only The Trees – Drop The Air Il Giardino Degli Specchi – Oltremare Illus Teller – The Backup Imploding Stars – Riverine Indignu – Umbra Infinite Third – Listen(Ing) Ingrina – Etter Lys Inspirative – Inertia Pt.1 Isles – Remnants Isola – Isola ISON – Andromeda Skyline Jean Jean – Froidepierre Jeffk – Inadequate Shelter Jet Plane – Falls Feather John Malkovitch! – The Irresistible New Cult Of Selenium JYOCHO – A Parallel Universe EP JYOCHO – The Beautiful Cycle Of Terminal Kalte Sonne – Ekumen Kaschalot – Whale Songs KHARA – Heaven Can Wait Khöbalt – The Sky Is Dead Kiova – An End In Motion Lake Of Licks – Blue Lang –  There Is No Reply But Sweet Wind Blew Lasitud – Lasitud Last Of Us – Swarm Le Temps Du Loup – Cardinal Le_Mol – Heads Heads Heads Leech – For Better Or For Worse Legendary Skies – Navigation Leonov – Wake Lights & Motion – Bloom Lobo Estepario – Los Que Bailan En Las Sombras Locktender – Friedrich Locomotora – Vuodet, Vuoret Long Distance Calling – Boundless Longlake – Beyond The Sun Loud Exit – Loud Exit Lowercase Noises – The Ironic Distance Macondø – Macondø Magdalena Gornik – Dream Sequence Collapse Man Mountain – Infinity Mirror Mass Culture – Primal | Ephemeral Massa – Walls Medussa –  LA PALABRA HA MUERTO Mesozoic – Earth Alone Message In A Cloud – Anassa Milanku – Monument Du Non-Être & Mouvement Du Non-Vivant Minsk / Zatokrev – BIGOD Modsdive – Four Wet Hands Moe’s – Smiles & Scars Mogwai – Kin Montaña – Coordenadas Morrow – The Weight Of These Feathers Mountaineer – Passages Movement Of Static – Naegleria Murmure – Nos Idées Fantômes Musatov Brothers – Existential Crisis Nautilus – The Oceanwalker Ninth Moon Black – Amaranthine Noorvik – Noorvik Northerner – Northerner Ocean Districts – Doomtowns   Of Two Minds – Of Two Minds Ohgod – The Great Silence Ok Seas – Ok Seas Old Faith – Old Faith Old Seas Young Mountains – Seasons Once Upon A Winter – .Existence Orellana – 52 Orphans Of Doom – Strange Worlds/Fierce Gods Osorezan – Osorezan OTHRS – Broken Dialogue Paraphon Tree – Aura Pershagen – Tarfala Pijn – Loss Planisphere – Into The Known Prune Deer – Chemistry 化學 Raedsel – A Simple Act Of Redirection Rammen – The Echo & The System Raum Kingdom – Everything & Nothing Reaching 62 F – Chronicles Of A Dying Sun Red Apollo – The Laurels Of Serenity Reformat – The Singularity Respire – Dénouement Riah – Autumnalia Rilf – Three Stories For Numbers RLYR – Actual Existence Rocket Miner – The Long Goodbye Roots And Ruins – Die Right Rostres – Les Corps Flottants Sagor Som Leder Mot Slutet – II Sairen – Neige Nuit Sejd – Ben & Hjärta Set And Setting – Tabula Rasa Seul Ocean – Je Fais Revivre Shadow Universe – Speaking For Clouds Ships Fly Up – Dream Maker Sinistro – Sangue Cassia Six Months Of Sun – Below The Eternal Sky Sky Flying By – (Re)Routed Sleep Dealer – Memories So Far As I Know –  Fragments: Disclosure Sojus3000 – Wanderers Soldat Hans – Es Taut SOM – The Fall Sonance – To Possess You Entirely Sondrous – Something Like Serenity Sons Of Alpha Centauri – Continuum Spurv – Myra Standish Hall – Standish Hall   Startle The Heavens – Canyons Straya – Sobereyed Subnoir – A Long Way From Home Summer Effect – Reverie Sunstare – Eroded   Taller Than The Trees – Hubris EP Talons – We All Know Tangled Thoughts Of Leaving – No Tether The American Dollar – You're Listening The Clouds Will Clear – Recollection Of What Never Was The Fog Ensemble – Throbs The Man Within – The Man Within   The Ocean – Phanerozoic I: Palaeozoic The Sun Burns Bright – Through Dusk, Came The Light There’s A Light – A Long Lost Silence This Will Destroy You – New Others Part One This Will Destroy You – New Others Part Two This World Has Bees – Nearer Those Who Dream By Day – Glad To Be... Tide/Edit – All My Friends Tides Of Man – Every Nothing To Those Who Exist – BAIAME Toe – Our Latest Number Tomorrow We Sail – The Shadows Toundra – Vortex Trees Die Standing – Trees Die Standing Triple Deer – Urban Shepherd Trna – Earthcult Tsima – Koniec Twin Speak – Soulss Umber –  This Earth To Another URO – CABBA! Us, Today – Computant Velns Viņu Zin – Posts Versa – Versa Violet Cold – Sommermorgen Trilogy Vorcha – Liberosis Vy Pole – Like You Say Wang Wen – Invisible City WANHEDA – The Cenozoic Implosion Warm Shelter – Reflections Way Station –  The Way Of Minstrel We Made God – Beyond The Pale We Were Heading North – Lightness Weary Eyes – True North Wess Meets West – A Light Within The Fracture Whale Fall – Sondersongs White Lion Parade – Cloudlines   Widek – Dream Reflection Winter Dust – Sense By Erosion Winterlight – The Longest Sleep Through The Darkest Days World’s End Girlfriend – Meguri Wrekmeister Harmonies – The Alone Rush YNICORNS – Intervals Zommm – Reality Is An Illusion 昴宿 Pleiades – 致未來 For The Future

#post-rock #post-metal #experimental rock #ambient #shoegaze #electronica #art rock #math rock #progressive rock #progressive metal #doom metal #sludge metal #crossover albums

[24no]

COLOURLESS DREAM set list

■■Vol.4 2017 12/17

■Conta 1st Under Two Flags / Masks It’s Immaterial / A Gigantic Raft In The Philippines The Laughing Apple / Precious Feeling JulianCope / 24a Velocity Crescent Blue Hollow / Inhale Presence / Act Of Faith Fools Dance / The Collector The Wild Swans / Archangels

■24no 1st This Mortal Coil / Sixteen Days - Gathering Dust Fra Lippo Lippi / Some Things Never Change Gene Loves Jezebel / Bruises (Orignial Extended Version) Radiohead / High And Dry Slowdive / Star Roving My Bloody Valentine / Never Say Goodbye

■久保田稔人 1st Repetition / The Still Reflex Style Syndrome / Shinning The Vail / Twist Dead Can Dance / Carnival Of Light The Creaturs / Mad Eyed Screamer Oate Wylie / Sinful The Blue Angels / Candy The Icicle Works / Love Is A Wonderful Colors

■小野島大 1st Alien Sex Fiend / R.I.P. (Blue Drumb Truck) Belfegore / All That I Wanted (Extrended Club Mix) Cult / Spiritwalker Bauhaus / Lagartija Nick Killing Joke / Tension The Birthday Party / Releace The Bats a clan of XYMOX / A Day (Remix) Sioixsie & The Banshees / Fireworks (12” Version)

■migon The Psychedelic Furs / Heatbreak Beat Clan Of Xymox / Loneliness TheCult / Dreamtime PlayDead / Propaganda Bauhaus / In The Flat Field Love & Rockets / Motorcycle MarchViolets / SnakeDance Gene Loves Jezbel / Desire The Bolshoi / Sunday Morning The Sound / Skeletons Sad Lovers And Giants / Echoplay

■Guest DJ Xerstorkitte From Australia Siouxsie and the Banshees / Spellbound Sisters Of Marcy / Vision Thing Alien Sex Fiend / Walk the Line She Wants Revenge / Tear You Apart Joy Division / Love Will Tear Us Apart Killing Joke / Love Like Blood Peter Murphy / Cuts You Up

■24no 2nd The Bubblemen / The Bubblemen Are Coming Tones On Tail / Christian Says Bauhaus / The Passion Of Lovers (Live) Death Cult / Christians (Live) U2 / Bad (Live) The Sound / Fatal Flaw All About Eve / End Of The Day Siouxsie & The Banshees / Candyman The Sisters Of Mercy / Walk Away

■久保田稔人 2nd 17 Pygmies / Chameleon The Colors Out Of Time / She Spins Blue China / Tomorrow Never Knows Modern Eon / Watching The Dancers The Church / Myrrh Silent Running / When The 12th Of Never Comes School Of Seven Bells / Ablaze The Horrors / Point Of No Reply The Chameleons / The Fan And The Bellows

■Conta 2nd All That Jazz/Banner Of Love The Cure / Lullaby Modern English / Swans On Glass Wasted Youth / Rebecca’s Room Flesh For Lulu / Roman Candle The Sound / Golden Soldiers The Teardrop Explodes / Colours Fly Away Joy Division / No Love Lost Siouxsie & The Banshees / Mirage Killing Joke / Sanity Peter Murphy / Blue Heart The Chameleons / Tears

■小野島大 2nd My Bloody Velentine / Soon (The Andy Weatherall Mix) Curve / Coast is Clear Lush / Sweetness and Light The Boo Radleys / The Finest Kiss Swervedriver / Rave Down Radiohead / Just The Cure / Why Can’t I Be You? (12” Mix) B-Movie / Nowhere Girl (Version) The Lotus Eaters / The First Picture Of You Echo & The Bunnymen / The Killing Moon (All Night Version) U2 / October

■■Vol.3 2016 12/11

■migon 1st Death In June /Black Radio Dead Can Dance / Carnival Of Light Cocteau Twins / Ivo The KVB / Night Games She Past Away / Sann/Hallucination The The / Flesh And Bones Virgin Prunes / Deline And Fall Bauhaus / Spirit

■Conta 1st Dole / Rumroad The Shamen / Happy Days Wah! Heat / Better Scream Care / Whatever Possessed You Black / Hey Presto Ian McCulloch / Lover Lover Lover Electrafixion / Zephyr Echo & The Bunnymen / Crystal Days

■24no 1st Chapterhouse / Breather The Boo Radleys / Lazy Day Sweet Jesus / Real Babe Catherine Wheel / Shallow The Charlottes / Liar Moose / Suzanne Ride / Here And Now Lush / Sweetness And Light (The Orange Squash Mix) My Bloody Valentine / Map Ref 41°N 93°W

■小野島大 1st Nico / Procession The Dance Society / 2000 Light Years From Home The Mission / Wasteland Killing Joke / Love Like Blood (Gestalt Mix) Southern Death Clut / Fatman Theatre Of Hate / Do You Believe In The West World Specimen / The Beauty Poison

■migon 2nd Marc Almond /Melanchory Rose Echo & The Bunnymen / SevenSeas The Cameleons / Nostalgia (7’’ Version) Scars / All About You Clan Of Xymox / Farewell The Beauty Of Gemina / One Step To Heaven Play Dead / Walk Away Siouxie & The Banshees / Cities In Dust

■Conta 2nd Bel Canto / White-Out Conditions All About Eve / D For Desire The Mission / Severina Dead Or Alive / It’s Been Hours Now Original Mirrors / Boys Cry The Mighty Lemon Drops / Happy Head Julian Cope / Bandy’s First Jump Echo & The Bunnymen / New Direction (Original Version) Associates / Party Fears Two

■24no 2nd The House Of Love / Christine Kitchens Of Distinction / Quick As Rainbows The Room / New Dreams For Old (7" version) Sad Lovers And Giants / Lost In A Moment Cocteau Twins / Feathers-Oar-Blades The Icicle Works / Love Is a Wonderful Colour Echo & The Bunnymen / Never Stop (Discotheque)

■小野島大 2nd The Mock Turtles / Wicker Man The Bolshoi / A Way II (edited Version) Pale Saints / harf-life,remembered whirl. / Clear Slowdive / Slowdive My Bloody Valentine / To Here Knows When Velvet Underground / Sunday Mornig

■migon 3rd Fields Of The Nephilim / Power Red Lorry Yellow Lorry / Walking On Your Hands Echo & The Bunnymen / Villiers Terrace The Sound / The Fire NewOrder / Broken Promise The Cure / Push U2 / Two Hearts Beat As One Killing Joke / Big Buzz Joy Division / Disorder

■Conta 3rd Tones On Tail / OK, This Is The Pops Nightmares In Wax / Black Leather The Sisters Of Mercy / Body Electric The Chameleons / Singing Rule Britannia The Essence / Only For You Echo & The Bunnymen / Clay Dead Or Alive / Lover Come Back To Me Bauhaus / Ziggy Stardust

■24no 3rd Siouxsie & The Banshees / Hong Kong Garden (‘Marie Antoinette’ Version) The Birthday Party / Dead Joe Virgin Prunes / Pagan Lovesong (Tormentallama) Sex Gang Children / Into The Abyss The Danse Society / Somewhere Killing Joke / Wardance The Sisters Of Mercy / Marian (version) Bauhaus / Dark Entries

■小野島大 3rd The Shamen / Young Till Yesterday The Jesus And The Mary Chain / Sidewalking (7" Mix) The Cure / Just Like Heaven Wah! / Forget The Down The Wild Swans / Revolutionary Spirit The House Of Love / Real Animal The Teardrop Explodes / Treason (It’s Just A Story)(Remixd Version) Echo & The Bunnymen / Silver (Tidal Wave) The Doors / Light My Fire

■ENDING Echo & The Bunnymen / Ocean Rain

■■Vol.2 2015 10/4

■migon 1st In The Nursery / Bumished Days Phycedelic Furs / Sister Europe Andi Sex Gang w/Marc Almond / The Hungry Years Bauhaus / All We Ever Wanted Was Everything Asylum Party / The Sabbath The Cameleons / Swamp Thing The Mighty Lemon Drops / like An Angel

■Zodiac 1st Opposition / My Room Is White Lines / Come Home Comsat Angels / Be Brave In The Nursery / Twins These Immortal Souls / Mary Me (Lie Lie) Tears For Fears / Change AR KANE / When You’re Sad

■Conta 1st Party Day / Glasshouse Seventh Seance / Another Empty Face Crown Of Thorns / Kingdom Come Western Promise / Promised Land The Sound / Deep Breath The Teardrop Explodes / When I Dream Ian MuCulloch / In My Head The House Of Love / Destroy The Heart The Names / Calcutta

■24no 1st Dif Juz / Hu Spacemen 3 / Revolution Revolver / Heaven Sent An angel Swervedriver / Son Of Mustang Ford Pale Saints / Sight Of You Zero Le Créche / Last Year’s Wife Wild Swans / The Revolutionary Spirit My Bloody Valentine / Off Your Face

■小野島大 1st Divine & Statton / Bizzare Love Triangle Care / Flaming Sword The Chameleons / In Shreds Sad Lovers & Giants / Imagination The Comsat Angels / Will You Stay Tonight? Blue in Heaven / Julie Cries Echo & The Bunnymen / The Puppet The Sound / Heyday Bauhaus / Dark Entries

■migon 2nd Play Dead / Shine The Dance Society / Hide Virgin Prunes / Baby Turns Blue Rosetta Stone / TheWitch The Sisters Of Marcy / Vision Thing Clan Of Xymox / Out Of The Rain The Cure / Object Sad Lovers And Giants / Clint Red Lorry Yellow Lorry / Spining Round The Sound / Resistance Joy Division / Ice Age Echo & The Bunnymen / Heaven Up Here U2 / I Will Forrow

■Zodiac 2nd Modern Eon / Euthenics Joy Division / Walked In Line Daniel Ash / Get Out Of Control Killing Joke / Tension FIELDS OF THE NEPHILIM / Back In Gehenna Sisters Of Mercy / First & Last & Always Ghost dance / Celebrate Rose Of Avalanche / Stick In The Works Theatre Of Hate / Eastworld THE MARCH VIOLETS / Steam And Also The Trees / Wallpaper Dying

■Conta 2nd And Also The Trees / Misfortunes Gene Loves Jezebel / Shaving My Neck Lulu Kiss Me Dead / The Ultimate Solution Snake Corps / Victory Parade The Chameleons / Perfume Garden Cocteau Twins / Carolyn’s Fingers Lush / Sweetness And Light Joy Division / Atrocity Exhibition (live) New Order / Singularity

■24no 2nd The Jesus & Mary Chain / Sidewalking (Extended Version) The Birthday Party / Zoo-Music Girl The Cult / Spiritwalker In Two A Circle / Rise 1919 / Caged Sex Gang Children / The Crack Up Echo & The Bunnymen / All That Jazz The Teardrop Explodes / Treason Magazine / Shot By Both Sides (Original Single Version) Siouxsie & The Banshees / Cascade Bauhaus / Telegram Sam

■小野島大 2nd Camberwell Now / Greenfingers Sonic Youth / Stereo Sanctity Belfegore / All That I Wanted Killing Joke / Adorations (The Extended Mix) The Mission / Serpents Kiss The House Of Love / I Don’t Know Why I Love You Siouxsie and The Banshees / Spellbound (12" Mix) Wah! / Somesay Associates / Club Country (12" Mix) Jesus and Mary Chain / Upside Down Joy Division / Transmission The Cure / high (higher mix)

■migon　B2B The Sound / Hothouse(Live) Modern English / GatheringDust The Pshychedlic Furs / Pretty in pink

■Zodiac　B2B Jesus ＆ Marychain / Neverunderstand The Cure / Boys Don’t Cry Jesus ＆ Marychain / Just Like Honey

■Conta B2B The Mission / Over The Hills And Faraway Julian Cope / Five O'clock World Echo & The Bunnymen / The Back Of Love

■小野島大 B2B The Smiths / How Soon Is Now? John Foxx / Europe After The Rain World Of Twist / She’s A Rainbow

■Ending Sad Lovers ＆Giants / Colourless Dream Bauhaus / Cloud

■■Vol.1 2014 11/24

■migon　1st Wasted Youth / Jealousy The Associetes / Tell Me Easter’s On Friday Fra LippoLippi / Barrier This Motal Coil / Song To Siren Dead Can Dance / Carnival Of The Light And Also The Trees / Shealetown Death In June / Fields Kissing The Pink / What Noise Cocteau Twins / Ivo

■Zodiac 1st Waterboys / The Whole Of The Moon Flowers For Agatha / The Freedom Curse Passion Puppets / Voices (Extended) TV21 / This Is Zero That Petrol Emotion / Mouth Crazy BFG / Higher Than Heaven…Is Echo & The Bunnymen / The Pictures On My Wall

■24no 1st The Charlatans / Happen To Die (Long Version) Modern English / I Melt With You The Icicle Works / Birds Fly (Whisper To A Scream) Ride / Like A Daydream Lush / Outdoor Miner Loop / Arc-Lite (Sonar) Curve / Fait Accompli (Extended Extended Extended) The Jesus & Mary Chain feat. Hope Sandoval / Sometimes Always

■久保田稔人 1st Schlimer K / She’s Gone Belfegore / All That I Want Red Beat / See Monsoon / Tomorrow Nwever Knows Section 25 / Colour Movement Sex & Violence The Essence / The Afterworld Lucy Show / Come Back To The Living Loard / RIBS

■小野島大 1st

■木下理樹 1st

■migon　2nd Clan Of Xymox / Muscoviet Musquito Xmal Deutshland / Qual The Dance Society / Somewhere The Names / Floating World The Wild Swans / God Forbid Sad Lovers And Giants / Colourless Dream The Shamen / Something About You Interpol / Roland The Cameleons / Everyday I’m Crucified The Mighty Lemon Drops / The Other Side Of You Ecoh & The Bunnymen / Clocodiles The Sound / Heatland

■Zodiac 2nd The Sound / Sence Of Purpose (What are We Going To Do) Snake Corps / Science Kills Julian Cope / 5 O'clock World Then Jerico / Let Her Fall March Violets / Snake Dance Alien Sex Fiend / I Walked Line Fields Of The Nephilim / Power Love & Rockets / If There A Heaven Above Specimen / Beauty Of Poison

■24no 2nd The Cure / The Lovecats (Extended Version) Siouxsie & The Banshees / Song From The Edge Of The World Skeletal Family / Promised Land (Extended Version) Gene Loves Jezebel / Desire (Come And Get It) The Mission / Serpents Kiss The Sisters Of Mercy / Walk Away Play Dead / Sacrosanct Virgin Prunes / Pagan Lovesong (Vibeakimbo) B-Movie / Nowhere Girl (Long Version)

■久保田稔人 2nd Opposition / The Man Who Almost Shaves 17 Pygmies / Chameleon Asylum Party / Julia Adrian Borland / Fast Blue World Bram Tchaikovsky / Robber Comsat Angels / Island Herat Toy / It’s Been So Long The Horrors / New Ice Age The Church / Tantalized Joy Division / Atmosphere

■小野島大 2nd （1st&2nd ※順不同） Blue in Heaven / Across My Heart The Mock Turtles / Can You Dig It? ART-SCHOOL / テュペロ・ハニー Chapterhouse / Pearl Curve / On The Wheel dip / 冷たいぐらいに乾いたら My Bloody Valentine / feed me your kiss Nine Inch Nails / Mr.Self Destruct Oasis / The Shock of the Lightning Radiohead / Just The Flaming Lips / Race for the Prize (Remix) The Novembers / Sturm und Drang きのこ帝国 / パラノイド・パレード 血と雫 / 黄泉にひびく Animal Collective / Summertime Clothes Bauhaus / Third Uncle New Order / Everything’s Gone Green Pavement / The Killing Moon Killing Joke / Love Like Blood Towns / Get Me There

■木下理樹 2nd

■Last Echo & The Bunnymen / The Cutter The Cameleons / In Sherds

■Ending Echo &The Bunnymen / In Blue Skys

[whatshappeningcowboy]

Top 10 Songs I’ve Been Listening To Lately

Tagged by @612l, thanks Leon!! 

1. A Perfect Circle - The Outsider (Apocalypse Mix) 2. Northlane - Fade 3. The Word Alive - Red Clouds 4. Volumes - Disaster Vehicle 5. 3Teeth & Ho99o9 - Time’s Up 6. Parkway Drive - The Void 7. Vanna - Flower 8. Ghost - He Is 9. While She Sleeps - Silence Speaks 10. Black Tongue - A Pale Procession II: Death March

I’ll tag @usuallystrange @ammoth @keyismykitty @keycchan @nonchalant-raptor @edgygabe and @thedarwini! Sorry if you’ve already been tagged I’m late as usual haha

#lmao fucked that up oops #thank you leon! #if anyone else wants to do this go ahead!!

[delusionsofamor]

[jeanlaurens1]

i. overview

Species: Seelie Feyrie

Full Name: Helle Bergström

Birthday & Age: March 7, 1396 / 623

Skill: Resurgency

Level: Senior Attorney

Occupation: Owns Thistledown Bed & Breakfast / Hit Feyrie

Neighborhood: Cottage at Thistledown, Dell Rapids

Residency Status: Returning resident, 250 / 3 years

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

ii. personality

+ charming, romantic, protective, & tenacious.

- flighty, anguished, guarded, & indulgent.

iii.  about the species

feyries are creatures that once lived within the celestial gates. they were servants to the ethereal dynasty and were kept in charge of the elemental balance of the planet. they lived seemingly in harmony, the feyries content with their role until a group of feyries called the unseelie court decided to rebel against the deities. they were banished from the celestial gates, their fate to be forever lost in hell. although not a part of the rebellion, the seelie court started to be seen with suspicious eyes by the deities and were eventually banished as well. they didn’t have to ask for the favor of any demons, though, they were purposely sent to earth both out of self-preservation but also to have them balance out the damage done by the other part of their kind.

iv.  the past

one // it’s an evensong, it’s a melody, it’s a battle cry, it’s a symphony.

The sky was growing dim and she was never one to revel in the cold air. Humming to herself, she tried to make the best of things. The wispy soul stopped where she was, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She focused and observed her surroundings. Bare branches were coated in ice, reflecting the full moon with a faint glimmer. They shone as if encased in glass. The figure tenderly stepped onto a frozen puddle and watched the ice gain hairline fractures that shot out. She repeated the process and watched the myriad of cracks form a web-like design. She removed her foot to admire the newfound beauty of seeming imperfection. She kept traipsing about to pass the time, cracking a few puddles here and there and admiring red, plump holly berries adorning the verdure. A chill eventually crept into her bones and settled deep within as restlessness started to mount. A final stomp, issued by another, ushered her deeper into the creeping velvet of night.

 “This isn’t what I was designed for,” she pleaded, wild eyes pricking with tears. The garrote around the victim’s neck was pulled tighter in response. The gurgling came to a sputtering, shuddering halt as the light in their irises finally dimmed. A shaky breath was expelled in tandem with the target’s last. “Now try,” a gentle command came. Helle unwound the cord, trying not to let her gaze linger upon the pooling bruise on paling skin. She traced the marks with delicate, tentative fingers. “I can’t,” she wailed. “You will.”

She did.

Her hand traveled lower, coming to rest over a still heart. The lifeless eyes were wide, an accusation that continued haunting Helle Bergström for centuries. She shifted her gaze from the mottled corpse to the pair that watched her with too much scrutiny. Helle closed her own and willed the tears on her lashes not to fall. Her other hand traced features she knew even in the dark, though the slight dimple was nowhere to be found. There was no fury accompanying hands wrapped around her slender neck when she deserved the taunt. The figure splayed before her had never been so still, and it was all the more unsettling.

Helle cupped the carved cheek in one hand and slipped between, beckoning the departed soul back to the realm of the living. She had extended a hand, reaching into that place between life and death, hoping the other would take it. “Isn’t loving something so fragile punishment enough?” She spoke gently but was cut off by a convulsing gasp.

“No.”

two // a cry at the final breath that is drawn. 

The history between deities and feyries is a tangled one ⁠— a web, sometimes wound so tightly around their necks it leaves one breathless. It was not always such a complicated history. Millennia of entrapment and servitude did not sit well in the hollow bones of a fair few, thus the Unseelie court rebelled and was cast out of the heavens. A rift was formed and ricocheted throughout all groupings of deities, and the Seelie court fell soon after. There hasn’t always been bad blood, and not all of their kind were doomed to be subservient, yet the exploitation caused a splintered severance amidst the freedom. Before the mutiny, some existed in the space between the divine and the lowly.

Valkyries existed in that place, and with a closer affinity to the deities came more power. They served Odin and were tasked with choosing who may live in battle, and who shall perish. They escorted the slain warriors into the afterlife and thus had a modicum of control of the opening and closing of the celestial gates. A noble ferocity belonged to the sect, with some forming a penchant for a particular beloved human. Their very name, “choosers of the slain,” and origin was born out of necessity. They chose who shall be given the honor of gaining admittance to Valhalla, yet they were not above more sinister means to ensure their favored outcome.. This was one of the hardest losses of stripping the feyries from the heavens. Their origin and position have not been entirely forgotten by those rare few descended from this ilk.

On a snowy evening, the egg that would become a hatchling known as Helle Bergström was to be nurtured alongside a dormant flower. She was to be nurtured alongside and poke through the snow as it bloomed into a symbol of new life amidst more stark, icy, and dismal conditions. The hatchling was a spark of new life and had been nestled into the crook of a mountain by a descendent of Hildr — a senior Valkyrie with the power to revive the dead on the battlefields.

The days of battle are a distant memory in Helle’s blood but at times her heart beats with such a ferocity that echoes the war cries of her ancestors. She is far softer than them but inside lurks something that would never truly be dormant. The hatchling had flown to her maker, yet she believed herself to be a common flora. Buds bloomed under her gentle caress and many survived a wicked frost that they should not have recovered from. She was content to keep things in an everlasting bloom, staving off decay for a little bit longer. The power of resurgency was a rare one and her lineage had been noted by the golden council. She had appeared at every turn remarkably unremarkable until someone decided to test it. 

Helle had gotten tangled up with a human and became utterly besotted. Roses that never wilted quite as fast were gifted by the fey, though her muse had not been made privy to her abilities. Each string of words had been offered like a string of precious stones and each kiss had been an unspoken love letter. On the eve of becoming a juvenile, Helle had been called into a clearing by a councilman. The limp figure of her beloved caused a halt in her step and she had not been quick enough to stop the light draining from their eyes. Her skills and her tenacity were tested that night as she brought them back from the precipice of death. She had cradled their head in her lap as the council sent them away from the realm of the living once more. Until dawn, first and last breaths were alternated from the victim as they were brought back to life before flickering out. It was chorused by Helle’s sobs and the hardening of her heart. The repetition of such a horrific act linked their souls as kindred, yet that much bloodshed has yet to be forgiven by the universe.

v.  the current

three // wear me like a locket around your throat.

Over her centuries, Helle has been taken note of by the golden council. She is a free spirit, albeit a powerful one, and has happily floated from place to place wherever an attorney held in high regard was needed. Her original purpose has been rendered almost irrelevant with time. Though mankind continues to wage battles, her intervention and selection of the worthy have not been needed. It has left her a bit aimless but it didn’t take long for her to rise through the ranks to sentinel within the court, and then to that of an attorney. It was a rare sight to see a willowy figure amidst the warriors though her judiciousness and discretion served her in places brute force would not. 

Feyries have always been a territorial bunch and that still rings true in the Dakotas. The Seelie Court selected the rapids as a place to build their headquarters and lay claim to the surrounding areas. It is a truly stunning slice of natural wonder and the Seelie staff work to maintain a balance of wildlife by monitoring hunting and fishing, amongst other activities. It is boasted as being incredibly safe to those that don’t act too cavalierly and with disregard for their surroundings. There have been a few animal attacks and disappearances, yet the victims have been trespassers or those that have crossed boundaries. The truth is far more sinister yet few suspect the feyries involvement. The sentences have usually been dealt out by sentinels, though Helle is apt to step in should a more delicate touch be needed or it’s above their rank. Her power has been called upon to reverse some executions, be it in South Dakota or abroad. 

This is not her first foray into residency within the rapids. She likes moving from place to place, usually uprooting herself in the aftermath after ending another chapter in her star-crossed history. Helle had been a sentinel of the court 250 years ago and had made quick friends with the Elmwood siblings after settling into a large Victorian manor. The house and grounds eventually became Thistledown — a more elegant respite nestled within the elements. She had been powerless in support of the siblings, and a speck of guilt still haunts her when she lets her gaze settle upon the barren, haunted grounds. She maintained hands-off ownership of the b&b when she was called away from South Dakota but has settled back down within the last three years. Helle likes to come and goes as she pleases, preferring to live in a quaint cottage on the grounds. She maintains the lush gardens, but the caretaking and daily operations have recently been helmed by another feyrie taking refuge with Helle. She is most likely to be found painting in wispy ballgowns and is always able to offer the proper remedy to a problem in a teacup... even if it’s just filled to the brim with whiskey. 

vi. connections

✗ SEELIE COURT - Helle Bergström has been noted by the court, but part of her is still inwardly seething around how her powers were revealed and tested. She has largely blocked that night from her memory, but images still haunt her dreams leaving her waking in anguish and terror. She hasn’t entirely forgiven the court for the doomed nature of her kindred, but she has risen through the ranks quite happily. She has crafted a cozy existence in Thistledown once more and though she may have her qualms, she is in a better place to hold her own and oversee.

✗ THE INQUISITIVE - Starcrossed is putting things lightly. Love and innocence died screaming and has yet to recover centuries later. There have been many incarnations ⁠— different forms, faces, genders. Not every crossing of paths was a romantic one, but they have all been doomed in one way or another. Sometimes the environment and timing aren’t conducive to things flourishing, and other times Helle can’t place where things went wrong. Sometimes feelings simply aren’t reciprocated, be it from her or the kindred. At times her soulmate already has another path in life, that they want to get to, and she is never the type to hold someone back. Ever the aching hopeful she is willing to just keep that person, as long as she can love them, but she lets them go in each lifetime. How low does someone have to get, to fight for such a relationship? She’s aware they won’t always be happy together, even though they needed each other at some point in each chapter of her life and each of their lifetimes. She relaunches herself each time they crash and burn, with Helle trying to use her pain to start a new adventure, to get over this love. She has been faced with the newest incarnation trespassing into the campsite, with Helle tasked to flicker out their existence once again. Attempted murder is quite the first impression. (( note: this is not a set ship and is to be plotted! ))

✗ AMBER ELMWOOD - An old friend made new. All of those years ago, Helle was supportive of the Elmwood siblings doing what they felt was necessary. The Court stuck to inaction on that matter, and silence and ignorance ultimately was their action. She was powerless and she detested seeing her friend in such pain, but she could do little more than offer a shoulder to cry on about the fate of the wytches and to watch idly as rage and rebellion torched the forest around their elm. Her heart was heavy with the loss of natural beauty, and it ultimately grew heavier shortly after when things went bottom-up with her kindred soul. She fled South Dakota, back to the Nordic pines she fled from last. Helle has recently resurfaced for good and has decided not to let the Unseelie and Seelie’s distaste for the other stop a reemerging friendship blooming in secrecy.

Her face claim is JODIE COMER and she’s written & played by RIAN.

[barbosaasouza]

Storytelling with Game Consequences

In this article, game designer Sande Chen reports on Jason Rohrer's session at the 2019 Taipei Game Developers Conference, in which he gave his thoughts about storytelling in games, games as art, and how his game design processes have evolved. Independent game developer Jason Rohrer, best known for his game, Passage, debuted an open source image selector (available on GitHub) at the 2019 Taipei Game Developers Forum on Thursday, July 11, 2019 to go along with his non-linear, spontaneous presentation about storytelling in games, games as art, and the evolution of his work. His latest effort, One Hour One Life, is a multiplayer online survival game in which players can spawn either as a helpless baby, a woman, or a man, and as the title implies, one hour corresponds to one lifetime. Cooperation is key to survival.  Rohrer took a roundabout approach in explaining why permadeath was necessary in the design of his game. He wanted the players to feel like their choices had real game consequences and so if players allow babies to die, then there's no Undo or Rewind. There will never be a playthrough where the babies live and the players will never know what would have happened if the babies had lived. Since it's multiplayer, all the players are witnesses to the babies' deaths.

One Hour, One Life

Rohrer explained that storytelling engines haven't quite advanced to the point where he didn't feel like the storytelling was forced or fake. They either take the branching narrative approach or AI a la Facade. He's skeptical of AI ever producing great creative works and jokingly asked if we wanted HAL to tell our stories. As for branching narratives, even when there are a multitude of options, he still felt that because the player can replay the choice, the consequences don't feel impactful.   Rohrer acknowledged that he's usually associated with the genre of games known as "art games," or games with artistic purpose. He thinks about what it is that games can uniquely do and how games can tell stories. None of his games are like Choose Your Own Adventures (CYOA). With Cultivation (2005), it was about building a mechanical system that allows the player to make and reflect on choices within that system. With Passage (2007), the game mechanics are metaphorical as if they were lines of a poem. He continued in this mode until he began to feel like this was like a high school English class where students write essays about what something means. No one goes to the movies to look for symbolism, he pointed out. Now he thinks about creating "unique aesthetic experiences" that can only occur within video games. For instance, Inside a Star-Filled Sky is an infinite, recursive shooter. One can enter a monster and find another world with monsters and enter those monsters and find another world, etc.  It creates this feeling of diving in so deep that one forgets what one was doing in the first place.   He mused about whether or not the game industry would ever produce that "Citizen Kane of games" a game so powerfully meaningful it's a transformative experience. He argued that there hasn't even been a game equivalent to the film Titanic, let alone Citizen Kane. He put up a list of games like Shadow of the Colossus, the first Zelda, and Metal Gear Solid II and said that even these amazing games paled as culturally relevant experiences when compared to masterpieces like the novel, Lolita. Whether or not games are culturally relevant has been a subject of debate for more than a decade.  A watershed moment occurred in 2009 when industry watchers proclaimed with great fanfare that the video game industry had surpassed film because Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (CoD: MW2) had earned over a billion dollars.  Yet, as Rohrer showed in a graph, CoD: MW2 only sold around 20 million units whereas the film Avatar sold 360 million, Titanic sold 400 million, and the classic Gone With the Wind moved a billion units.  Therefore, the average man on the street probably knows Gone With the Wind or Titanic or Avatar, but what about CoD: MW2?  Even if that average Joe were to go play CoD: MW2, Rohrer argued, that person would not say, "OMG this experience has enriched my life! I'm in tears because CoD: MW2 has so deeply changed my life forever." Rohrer acknowledged that there was a skill barrier to beating and winning at video games. Perhaps, he said, this barrier is so great that video games will never be as accessible as movies, books, and other mainstream media and therefore, cannot achieve cultural relevancy.  Another issue is that as technology marches on, classic games are no longer available, since the hardware becomes obsolete. This didn't occur with other media. Analog TVs still work with converters. CDs from 1983 still work, but a game like Quake was originally designed for specific hardware and emulators don't always capture that original experience. Rohrer had no doubt that engineers could make gaming systems backwards compatible if it were an industry expectation.   For about 15 years, Rohrer has been creating games that are insightful and innovative. Mainstream media press have found his work to be deeply moving and complex, even tear-inducing. Despite his intellectual ponderings on whether or not video games can be considered masterpieces of art, others have already decided that Rohrer's work fits that description. In 2016, he became the first video game creator to have a solo retrospective in an art museum. [Jason Rohrer's recorded session will be available on IGDA Taiwan's YouTube channel soon.] Sande Chen is a writer and game designer whose work has spanned 15 years in the industry. Her credits include 1999 IGF winner Terminus, 2007 PC RPG of the Year The Witcher, and Wizard 101. She is one of the founding members of the IGDA Game Design SIG.,  Storytelling with Game Consequences published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/

[ohgodimsoalone]

Black Tongue - A Pale Procession II: Death March

#black tongue #a pale procession ii: death march #lol shout out to matthew mcconaughey and true detective #rust cohle #the unconquerable dark #this album was pretty fun #nihilism #misanthropy #beatdown #down-tempo #deathcore #death metal

[barbosaasouza]

Storytelling with Game Consequences

In this article, game designer Sande Chen reports on Jason Rohrer's session at the 2019 Taipei Game Developers Conference, in which he gave his thoughts about storytelling in games, games as art, and how his game design processes have evolved. Independent game developer Jason Rohrer, best known for his game, Passage, debuted an open source image selector (available on GitHub) at the 2019 Taipei Game Developers Forum on Thursday, July 11, 2019 to go along with his non-linear, spontaneous presentation about storytelling in games, games as art, and the evolution of his work. His latest effort, One Hour One Life, is a multiplayer online survival game in which players can spawn either as a helpless baby, a woman, or a man, and as the title implies, one hour corresponds to one lifetime. Cooperation is key to survival.  Rohrer took a roundabout approach in explaining why permadeath was necessary in the design of his game. He wanted the players to feel like their choices had real game consequences and so if players allow babies to die, then there's no Undo or Rewind. There will never be a playthrough where the babies live and the players will never know what would have happened if the babies had lived. Since it's multiplayer, all the players are witnesses to the babies' deaths.

One Hour, One Life

Rohrer explained that storytelling engines haven't quite advanced to the point where he didn't feel like the storytelling was forced or fake. They either take the branching narrative approach or AI a la Facade. He's skeptical of AI ever producing great creative works and jokingly asked if we wanted HAL to tell our stories. As for branching narratives, even when there are a multitude of options, he still felt that because the player can replay the choice, the consequences don't feel impactful.   Rohrer acknowledged that he's usually associated with the genre of games known as "art games," or games with artistic purpose. He thinks about what it is that games can uniquely do and how games can tell stories. None of his games are like Choose Your Own Adventures (CYOA). With Cultivation (2005), it was about building a mechanical system that allows the player to make and reflect on choices within that system. With Passage (2007), the game mechanics are metaphorical as if they were lines of a poem. He continued in this mode until he began to feel like this was like a high school English class where students write essays about what something means. No one goes to the movies to look for symbolism, he pointed out. Now he thinks about creating "unique aesthetic experiences" that can only occur within video games. For instance, Inside a Star-Filled Sky is an infinite, recursive shooter. One can enter a monster and find another world with monsters and enter those monsters and find another world, etc.  It creates this feeling of diving in so deep that one forgets what one was doing in the first place.   He mused about whether or not the game industry would ever produce that "Citizen Kane of games" a game so powerfully meaningful it's a transformative experience. He argued that there hasn't even been a game equivalent to the film Titanic, let alone Citizen Kane. He put up a list of games like Shadow of the Colossus, the first Zelda, and Metal Gear Solid II and said that even these amazing games paled as culturally relevant experiences when compared to masterpieces like the novel, Lolita. Whether or not games are culturally relevant has been a subject of debate for more than a decade.  A watershed moment occurred in 2009 when industry watchers proclaimed with great fanfare that the video game industry had surpassed film because Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (CoD: MW2) had earned over a billion dollars.  Yet, as Rohrer showed in a graph, CoD: MW2 only sold around 20 million units whereas the film Avatar sold 360 million, Titanic sold 400 million, and the classic Gone With the Wind moved a billion units.  Therefore, the average man on the street probably knows Gone With the Wind or Titanic or Avatar, but what about CoD: MW2?  Even if that average Joe were to go play CoD: MW2, Rohrer argued, that person would not say, "OMG this experience has enriched my life! I'm in tears because CoD: MW2 has so deeply changed my life forever." Rohrer acknowledged that there was a skill barrier to beating and winning at video games. Perhaps, he said, this barrier is so great that video games will never be as accessible as movies, books, and other mainstream media and therefore, cannot achieve cultural relevancy.  Another issue is that as technology marches on, classic games are no longer available, since the hardware becomes obsolete. This didn't occur with other media. Analog TVs still work with converters. CDs from 1983 still work, but a game like Quake was originally designed for specific hardware and emulators don't always capture that original experience. Rohrer had no doubt that engineers could make gaming systems backwards compatible if it were an industry expectation.   For about 15 years, Rohrer has been creating games that are insightful and innovative. Mainstream media press have found his work to be deeply moving and complex, even tear-inducing. Despite his intellectual ponderings on whether or not video games can be considered masterpieces of art, others have already decided that Rohrer's work fits that description. In 2016, he became the first video game creator to have a solo retrospective in an art museum. [Jason Rohrer's recorded session will be available on IGDA Taiwan's YouTube channel soon.] Sande Chen is a writer and game designer whose work has spanned 15 years in the industry. Her credits include 1999 IGF winner Terminus, 2007 PC RPG of the Year The Witcher, and Wizard 101. She is one of the founding members of the IGDA Game Design SIG.,  Storytelling with Game Consequences published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/