#c: knell

[childrenofcain-if]

PLS, I NEED TO SEE OUR POOKIEBEAR C ACTUALLY GETTING THE COMPANY AND FIRING THEIR DAD'S ASS TO OBLIVION

the morning of C Lacroix’s 22nd birthday was a muted affair, the sun reluctant to break through the thick clouds that hung low over manhattan. it was as if the city itself was holding its breath, sensing the storm brewing beneath the surface.

in the penthouse high above the streets, the air was taut with anticipation, the stillness almost unbearable. everything in the room—the sleek, minimalist furniture, the cold gleam of marble floors, the panoramic view of a city that never truly slept—spoke of control. but today, that control was about to be weaponized, unleashed in a way that would ripple through the lives of wall street’s biggest players like a carefully orchestrated symphony of a tidal wave.

C stood by the window, their reflection a ghostly figure against the backdrop of the city they had vowed to conquer. every inch of their being was coiled with a tension that spoke not of uncertainty, but of the meticulous precision with which they had planned every detail of this day.

for twelve years, they had waited for this moment—twelve long years of enduring the shadow of a man who had sought to crush their spirit, to mold them into something small, something subservient. but today, alain lacroix would learn the folly of underestimating the very being he had dared to even try to break.

behind C, the sound of soft footsteps broke the silence, and they turned to see their soulmate—the one person who had stood by them through it all, who had quietly, relentlessly, maneuvered the pieces into place for this final move. you were the embodiment of subtle power, a force that operated in the shadows, unseen but undeniable. your presence in the room was like a quiet storm, one that had gathered strength over years of meticulous planning. and together, you were about to rain havoc on new york city.

you approached the desk where the final contract lay—a simple document that belied the magnitude of what it represented. the acquisition of lacroix and co. was complete, not through hostile takeovers or boardroom battles, but through the quiet, calculated moves that had become the hallmark of you and C. you had done it, had bought the company out from under alain lacroix’s nose, and now, with a single stroke of a pen, you were handing the reins to C.

“do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this moment?” C’s voice was a low murmur, almost a caress, as they met your gaze. they situate themself on the chair, looking down at the papers representing all the pain they had gone through. there was a fire in their chalcedony gaze, one that had been stoked by years of quiet fury, of pent-up resentment that was now on the verge of release.

you smiled, a slow, dangerous smile that reminded them of secrets shared, of plans hatched in the dead of night. “revenge,” you said softly. “i’ve heard it’s a dish best served cold.”

C’s lips twitched into a smile that was anything but kind. “twelve years ago, he left after taking everything from me.” the words were spoken with a calm that hid the storm raging inside them. “but now, i’m taking it all back.”

you reached for the pen on the desk, holding it out to C with a flourish that was almost theatrical. once they took it, you situated yourself behind their chair, arms wrapped around their shoulder as you peered onto the papers with them.

“the inheritance that was rightfully yours,” you said, your voice a soothing balm to C’s simmering rage. “brick by brick, remember? you’ll rebuild it. and alain lacroix will have no one to blame but his foolish self.”

C reaches up, their fingers brushing against your arms in a moment of silent understanding. this was more than a business transaction; it was a reclamation of power, a rewriting of history. with a swift, decisive motion, C signed the contract, the sound of the pen scratching across the paper like a death knell for their father’s empire.

as they set the pen down, C felt a strange sense of calm wash over them—a calm that came not from the act of signing, but from the knowledge that the final blow was yet to come. they reached for the phone on the desk, their movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. alain’s number was already dialed in, a ghost from the past summoned into the present.

the phone rang once, twice, before a voice crackled through the receiver—alain lacroix’s voice, thick with the arrogance that had defined his every interaction. “who is it?” he barked, clearly annoyed at the intrusion.

“missed me, father?” the words were delivered with a venomous calm, each syllable a shard of ice piercing through the phone line. “you never called. you never texted. i thought you forgot about me.”

there was a beat of silence, then alain’s voice returned, dripping with condescension. “what do you think you’re doing, C? this isn’t one of your childish games. you think buying my company will make you my equal?”

C’s smile was a razor-sharp thing, dangerous in its serenity. “your company?” they let out a soft laugh, one that held no warmth. “you misunderstand. lacroix and co. is mine now, if you haven’t already gotten the news. you took everything from me. but you forgot one thing, father. power doesn’t come from money or titles. it comes from control. and today, i control the very ground you’re setting your shoes on.”

alain’s voice crackled through the receiver, laced with fury. “you think this will hurt me?” he spat, the bravado of a man who had yet to realize his empire was crumbling around him. “you’re nothing without me, you ungrateful—”

“i’ve never been anything because of you,” C cut him off, their tone measured, every word delivered with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. “but you, father… you’re nothing without the company. and now, you’re nothing without me.”

C let out a cruel laugh, before continuing, “all those years you preyed on a vulnerable child. you thought you could teach me a lesson, show me my place. now, i’m going to show you yours.”

they hung up the phone with a finality that echoed through the room. alain’s curses, his impotent rage, were nothing more than noise now—background static to the cacophony of destruction C was about to unleash with you on the new york elite.

looking at them, you saw the remnants of the monster that their father had created. beaten and crafted into a creature of rage and pride. one that you had molded into something far more terrifyingly beautiful than alain lacroix’s wildest dreams. your own bloody frankenstein.

“C,” you murmured, your voice a soft, steadying force anchoring them. almost as if on instinct, they leaned their head backward, correctly anticipating the kiss that had them breathing hard and wild.

“let me treat you tonight,” C muttered, breathless against your lips. “anything you want, mon ange.”

“isn’t it your birthday today, lacroix?” you teased, your smile wide and genuine. “save your money. you’ll need it for the next company you buy.”

you noticed the ways the green of their eyes darkened with something deeper than just desire. “then i’m afraid you’ll have to give yourself to me, mon ange. i’ve waited so long to have you like this.”

[astralscrivener]

✨ fic directory ✨

i’ve created a post to keep all of my fics in one place. all fics can be found on ao3. (last updated may 4th, 2024)

major ongoing works

STEALING OUR OWN PLACE IN THE SUN

- voltron: legendary defender: a rewrite of vld seasons 4-8. - team focus, broganes, klance, adashi, romellura - rated M, graphic depictions of violence + other warnings in author notes - 22/45 chapters, 251k words (december 25th, 2022) - last posted: chapter 22: season 7, episode 3: elliptical orbit

AT SKYFALL

- voltron: legendary defender: canon-divergent au in which keith and shiro are captured by the galra at a coalition gala. things become more complicated when the team’s search for shiro turns up someone else: adam, shiro’s fiancé.  - broganes, klance, adashi - rated M, graphic depictions of violence + other warnings in author notes - 8/? chapters, 25k words (september 2nd, 2023) - last posted: chapter 8: division and discord

ABCS OF KLANCE

- voltron: legendary defender: oneshots, one prompt for each letter of the alphabet, focused on keith and lance’s relationship - variety of aus, some overlap with squad up (2017-19 modern au), mostly established relationship klance - 18 works, 87k words (may 4th, 2024) - a: artistry • b: brutality • c: comfort • d: defeat • e: elegance • f: faithfulness • g: grief • h: homelessness • i: information • j: jealousy • k: knell • l: loyalty • m: mercy • n: need • o: opportunity • p: pain • q: quest • r: rumor • s: sleep • t: trust • u: uncertainty • v: victory • w: worry • x: xenon • y: yearning • z: zero - last posted: lightning in a bottle (y: yearning)

other ongoing works

THESE 20S ARE RAWRING AND THESE DUNGEONS ARE DRAGONING

- voltron: legendary defender: modern au + d&d series started in 2020 as a stress response to quarantine - team focus, klance, adashi, romellua, hunay

• main work: the rawring 20s XD - chatfic that only updates if i think it will be funny - rated M, no archive warnings apply + other warnings in author notes - 5/5 chapters, 17k words - last posted: chapter 5: there is no easter bunny, there is no tooth fairy, (september 8th, 2022)

- other works include klance-centric oneshots + snippets of the group’s ongoing d&d campaign - 5 works, 37k words - last posted: midnight into morning coffee (february 7th, 2024)

VLD FIC REQUESTS

- voltron: legendary defender: oneshots across a variety of aus written in response to prompts from friends and followers - variety of ships, but mainly klance and adashi - some overlap with squad up  - 15 works, 92k words (july 8th, 2023) - last posted: distraction

major completed works

DECEIT SO NATURAL

- voltron: legendary defender: canon-divergent trilogy in which lance and keith fool their way behind enemy lines and onto lotor’s ship to steal vital information on the galra empire—only for lotor to become far more dangerous than anyone anticipated. - mainly klance, extremely one-sided lancelot - written before gay shiro reveal + age discourse, contains side shallura - 3 works, 315k words - completed june 15th, 2018

• WHERE PEOPLE GO TO DIE - lotor mistakenly believes that lance is a galra soldier spying on the paladins, and invites him to return home. keith follows him undercover as a prisoner, and quickly draws lotor’s ire as things spiral rapidly out of control. - rated M, graphic depictions of violence - 14/14 chapters, 49k words - completed july 9th, 2017

• DYNASTY DECAPITATED - lotor becomes vindictive after having been played for a fool by team voltron, and the team struggles to hold the voltron alliance together while fending off his rapid advances. meanwhile, keith and lance explore a new stage of their relationship and learn exactly what the other means to them. - rated M, graphic depictions of violence - 18/18 chapters, 67k words - completed august 7th, 2017

• STARS GO DOWN - lotor has captured lance and sentenced keith to death halfway across the universe. lance struggles to hold onto himself as he plays the role of an amnesiac, while keith attempts to fight his way back to the team, alone. meanwhile, the team, down two lions and two paladins, scrambles to bring keith and lance home amidst betrayals and tumult in the voltron alliance. - rated M, graphic depictions of violence, temporary major character death + other warnings in author notes - 37/37 chapters, 198k words - completed june 15th, 2018

SQUAD UP

- voltron: legendary defender: modern au written from 2017-19 to cope with the horrors of being in high school and the transition into college - written before gay shiro reveal + age discourse, contains side shallura and shiro/allura/matt - 25 works, 561k words - completed may 10th, 2019

• main work: squad up - chatfic chronicling the gang’s last year of high school - rated M, no archive warnings apply + other warnings in author note - 140/140 chapters, 327k words - completed june 15th, 2018

• main work: a midsummer night’s meme - chatfic chronicling the gang’s last summer before college - rated M, no archive warnings apply + other warnings in author note - 27/27 chapters, 79k words - completed august 31st, 2018

• main work: because guys like us are cool in college - series of oneshots/snippets following keith and lance’s freshman year of college - rated M, no archive warnings apply + other warnings in author note - 84/84 chapters, 83k words - completed may 10th, 2019

LIGHT UP THE PATH (THROUGH A SKY FULL OF STARS)

- voltron: legendary defender: 28 oneshots completed for klance au month february 2019. - klance - variety of aus, including but not limited to modern au, canon-divergent/other paladinsverse, fantasy au, and more - rated M, creator chose not to use archive warnings + other warnings in author note - 28/28 chapters, 49k words - completed february 28th, 2019

additional oneshots not mentioned here can be found on archive of our own ✨ other writing (including drabbles, snippets, and prompts from tumblr ask games) can be found in my writing tag ✨

happy reading!

[maaarine]

The Cause of Depression Is Probably Not What You Think (Joanna Thompson, Quanta Magazine, Jan 26 2023)

"A literature review that appeared in Molecular Psychiatry in July was the latest and perhaps loudest death knell for the serotonin hypothesis, at least in its simplest form.

An international team of scientists led by Joanna Moncrieff of University College London screened 361 papers from six areas of research and carefully evaluated 17 of them.

They found no convincing evidence that lower levels of serotonin caused or were even associated with depression.

People with depression didn’t reliably seem to have less serotonin activity than people without the disorder.

Experiments in which researchers artificially lowered the serotonin levels of volunteers didn’t consistently cause depression. (…)

Although serotonin levels don’t seem to be the primary driver of depression, SSRIs show a modest improvement over placebos in clinical trials.

But the mechanism behind that improvement remains elusive.

“Just because aspirin relieves a headache, [it] doesn’t mean that aspirin deficits in the body are causing headaches,” said John Krystal, a neuropharmacologist and chair of the psychiatry department at Yale University.

“Fully understanding how SSRIs produce clinical change is still a work in progress.”

Speculation about the source of that benefit has spawned alternative theories about the origins of depression. (…)

Repple warns, however, that another explanation for the effects his team observed is also possible: Perhaps the depressed patients’ brain connections were impaired by inflammation.

Chronic inflammation impedes the body’s ability to heal, and in neural tissue it can gradually degrade synaptic connections.

The loss of such connections is thought to contribute to mood disorders.

Good evidence supports this theory.

When psychiatrists have evaluated populations of patients who have chronic inflammatory diseases like lupus and rheumatoid arthritis, they’ve found that “all of them have higher-than-average rates of depression,” said Charles Nemeroff, a neuropsychiatrist at the University of Texas, Austin.

Of course, knowing that they have an incurable, degenerative condition may contribute to a patient’s depressed feelings, but the researchers suspect that the inflammation itself is also a factor.

Medical researchers have found that inducing inflammation in certain patients can trigger depression.

Interferon alpha, which is sometimes used to treat chronic hepatitis C and other conditions, causes a major inflammatory response throughout the body by flooding the immune system with proteins known as cytokines — molecules that facilitate reactions ranging from mild swelling to septic shock.

The sudden influx of inflammatory cytokines leads to appetite loss, fatigue and a slowdown in mental and physical activity — all symptoms of major depression.

Patients taking interferon often report feeling suddenly, sometimes severely, depressed.

If overlooked chronic inflammation is causing many people’s depression, researchers still need to determine the source of that inflammation.

Autoimmune disorders, bacterial infections, high stress and certain viruses, including the virus that causes Covid-19, can all induce persistent inflammatory responses.

Viral inflammation can extend directly to tissues in the brain. Devising an effective anti-inflammatory treatment for depression may depend on knowing which of these causes is at work.

It’s also unclear whether simply treating inflammation could be enough to alleviate depression.

Clinicians are still trying to parse whether depression causes inflammation or inflammation leads to depression. “It’s a sort of chicken-and-egg phenomenon,” Nemeroff said.

Increasingly, some scientists are pushing to reframe “depression” as an umbrella term for a suite of related conditions, much as oncologists now think of “cancer” as referring to a legion of distinct but similar malignancies.

"And just as each cancer needs to be prevented or treated in ways relevant to its origin, treatments for depression may need to be tailored to the individual."

[tac0tesseract]

Glitch Time

“The Boy King is weak,” said High Priest Ay to the general, Horemheb.

Emma shot the priest and he dissolved into dust.

No, that was after.

There were realities where Kira hadn't found them in time, realities where she'd died while out scouting or had never been on Ecates at all. Oddly, there were no realities wherein their little squadron of seven had ever been prepared for the Naiki attack; each and every time, they were caught in varying degrees of surprise.

Emma watched the facility burn, watched the researchers flee as floe worms burst from the ice to devour them like grapes. She watched instances where Marsh and Sarah failed to eject in time. “I can bail you out again, like I did with the worm,” Emma said over private coms to Daughter, “But this time I want something in exchange.”

Emma shot the priest and he dissolved into dust.

None of that happened.

She shivered in the cockpit, blinking in a vain attempt to focus sundered vision. Chaos raged all around her but most of her consciousness was sinking into the Lich's velveteen waters. It was impossible to process time without Sam, but here she was trying to do it all by herself anyway. She had to.

The threads of time were so silver, so beautiful, so cold. Emma reached for one, pulled; Knell began to move faster. That was in the future.

The hammer fell, the hammer fell, the hammer fell.

There were no words in any human language for how horrible the sound was. The Tokugawa caved like an empty soda can and there was nothing left of JW to even scrape out of it.

She jumped.

She jumped.

She jumped.

The hammer obliterated the Lich and turned Emma into human paste instead. She drank deeper, pulled a new thread, engineered a reality where the Demolisher was now meters away. This time, Thresher could react. The hammer never fell. She was back at her soul vessel.

Emma shot the priest and he dissolved into dust.

No, not yet. Breath came ragged; she convulsed in the cockpit. Emma fumbled the threads and the missiles landed and now her mech was missing an arm and she was crying laughing screaming and she couldn't move and she couldn't move and she couldn't move and she couldn't see and she reached for the threads she had to hold the threads she had to pull the threads her team needed her where was Sam where was Sam when was Sam why wasn't Sam here?

A hand caressed Emma's face. She looked up. The field was a ruin of burning bodies. She watched herself, in the third person, lift the Unraveler and fire.

Emma shot the priest and, finally, he dissolved into dust.

The battle was over.

She couldn't even rely on GANDALF to take her back to safety. That, too, she had to do by herself – but by now she was deep underwater. Sound and vision came muffled. She followed on mental auto pilot behind Harvester's blurry outline, only able to track him because he glowed so bright. Somehow, that got her back into the maintenance bay.

Once there she managed to power the core back down, but thereafter vacillated between raving and catatonic in the cockpit, clutching her ankh amulet in both hands. Until today, she could have counted the number of times she'd had to glitch time like this on both hands and still have a few fingers left over. Ostensibly, that was why her boss had wanted to print a Lich in the first place, but...Emma had never had to use the core like this twice in one day, let alone twice in one month. Today, she'd done it twice in as many hours.

New threads of reality kept flowing past her eyes. She didn't know how to make it stop. No wonder Sam felt so exhausted, living like this. Tears flooded in the longer she watched. The facility and the people inside of it were safe – that was the most important thing, she knew. But it was far from perfect. The generator should have never taken a hit. Actium and Black Baccara should still be standing. That mysterious Monarch chasing Knell should have never gotten away.

The core was out of power now, but maybe...maybe once it was recharged, she could try again and get it right...

For now, all she could see were a thousand-thousand realities, none of which were her own. She saw everything she could have done different. She watched deaths on repeat. She saw angles of existence normally invisible to human eyes, and hidden truths spoken of only in the Lessons. This happened every time she used the core, but...it'd never lasted this long before.

Emma laughed, and cried, and, somewhere in the remaining depths of her fraying consciousness, prayed desperately for it to stop.

[qqueenofhades]

Have mixed feelings on the debt ceiling thing. On the one hand, I'm disappointed not every Democrat voted for it because they're supposed to be the responsible party, but the fact that more Democrats than Republicans DID vote for MCCARTHY'S budget is something else.

I mean.... yeah, basically this. As usual, I am the least impressed by the Squad and co. who were acting like it was a huge moral imposition to vote for it because because food stamp changes!!! (when it's actually looking like Biden jiu-jitsu'd the Republicans into expanding SNAP benefits, so), when one would think that, y'know, averting a catastrophic and unprecedented federal default just might be a more useful progressive policy. But yet again, Horseshoe Theory.

On the other hand, the fact that yes, there were more Democrats voting for it overall is a pretty good sign that Qevin a) got absolutely snookered in the negotiations, b) has no control over the Clown Caucus and had to rely on Democrats to pass it, which is usually a death knell for a GOP speaker because there's never any establishment politician crazy enough for the domestic terrorists, and c) basically ate shit. Because the Republicans have spent months claiming that Biden is riddled with dementia and a drooling stooge and whatever else, and then:

[ltwilliammowett]

A frigate lying alongside a prison hulk with other shipping beyond, by William Callcott Knell (c.1830-1876)

[vidoesthings]

First and final. (jaylos angst)

---

rating: teen and up

warning: major character death, no happy ending

summary: Jay struggling in the aftermath of Carlos's death

first and final. - Chapter 1 - viarcham - Descendants (Disney Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

---

(full work below)

It had never meant to end like this. As Jay stared down at the polished coffin, all he could think was that it wasn't meant to end like this. Not at 19, due to what the doctor had clinically lectured was ‘a sudden spike of abnormal electrical activity in the patient's brain.’ No matter how many times they would explain it to Jay, it would never make sense.

They had made it, away from the Isle: made it over countless miles, a fathomless sea and an impenetrable barrier, ran so far it no longer loomed over them like a death knell.

Jay had always thought that of the four of them, he would cross the final divide first; in his quietest moments, he had entertained childish fantasies of martyring himself in their pursuit of greatness-maybe his still warm corpse languished on the ground, the only thing that had stopped the bullet from driving into his allies’ side. Maybe Mal would declare him her greatest knight, while Evie mercifully drove the blade into his carotids, Carlos’s last desperate kiss bruising Jay’s lips, as Jay let himself sink into the welcoming grasp of oblivion.

Mal hadn't been able to stomach the funeral. Evie had scrubbed furiously at her shining eyes, then swiftly disappeared, her mascara and facade already replaced so perfectly that no outward sign of grief remained.

Jay didn't blame them.

Everyone had already left.

Despite the flood of remembrance cards that taunted Jay from his doorstop, there had been few attending the funeral. The weather had been too pleasant for the occasion, and Jay had watched as the beaming sun lowered and the mourners drifted away. Now, he was the only alive soul remaining. He hadn't been able to leave.

It was too mimetic of the way the world would keep on spinning without Carlos. The world would keep on spinning, and the boy Jay had once been intertwined with would keep on being 19, as time tore them further apart, and soon Jay would be 21, 22, 35, still reeling from the absence of his first ally, his first friend, his first love...his first and final everything, until Carlos was just a wispy shadow of a faint memory, fainter and fainter as time roared on, the ghost that jay knew would always haunt him.

Soon the boy would be nothing more than a tragic footnote in the history of Aurodan. Forgotten. Earlier that morning, Jay had opened his front door to yet another remembrance card. Gaudy saccharine kittens in bows danced along the card edge. It sickened Jay. Inside, it was stuffed with feeble, cloying blandishments that said ultimately nothing but left him even more numb.

Then it referenced ‘the three original Vks’ and Jay had promptly puked. What little breakfast he had kept down splattered all over the card and his front doorstep. Brownish orange. Dimly, as he continued to stand there, helpless, Jay had thought that Carlos would have detested its colour.

The same nausea clawed at his throat now as his eyes bored into the lacquered pine.

The funeral itself had been quiet: the shocked, detached, pall-like kind of silence that clung to its mourners. Jay hadn't been able to stop himself thinking that if Diego wasn't still trapped on the isle, maybe there would at least be a semblance of humanity. Even just a dirge. Anything to acknowledge the gaping hole left.

The coffin wood was cold and smooth and impersonal underneath Jay’s fingers. A flimsy shield.

Jay been able to shield him from gunfights, bullies- heck even Carlos’s own psycho of a mother- but had been passively unaware of that tiny, almost insubstantial electrical signal. Maybe if they had been together, Jay would have noticed something. Anything. Maybe was better than that cold certainty of a corpse.

Over a decade ago, he had pledged everything he was to give Carlos protection. Their splattered blood embodying the oath with a purposeful weight, the knife grip too oversized for younger Jay’s grasping fingers. Carlos’s small grin had electrified him. Jay then had known he would give his life to see it again. He still would now...more than anything. The corners of his mouth were involuntarily tugged up, but it didn't reach his glassy eyes.

All of Jay’s protection was rendered useless in the end.

Just another moment.

Just a bit longer.

If he stayed, he could force the world to mourn for another moment. Jay wouldn't have to face the blistering apathy of this world as his own universe laid, unresponsive and unreachable, inside the casket. Jay let his emotions fracture and engulf him in a suffocating chasm of grief.

It wasn't meant to end like this.

---

(end of work authors notes: Hi. I went to a funeral this week, and decided the best way to process that was to write a fic that hurts descendants characters (and my beta writer, sorry darling <3) I have not seen rise of red yet so may not be totally canon accurate.

Please feel free to point out any grammatical errors I missed, and constructive criticism is will always be appreciated- and even if its just a keyboard smash or emoji or kudos on ao3 :))

[velvetvexations]

It feels like I get never-ending attention from Velvet Nation but no matter what will always absurdly insecure about losing the tiniest shred of it. I don't actually know that any followers I may ever lose were ones that ever sent me a message or or talked about me to others or something but I don't know that they weren't either. What if one careless post is the death knell for my tiny sub-500 count fandom.

Then there's the worry that talking about this at all could put pressure on people, especially if they ever take issue with something I say or want to unfollow for any reason. But people seem to like it when I talk about my NPD symptoms, so.

I appreciate you all. Maybe more than I should, but that's my hellbrain. I really meant it when I said I relate so hard to the word "crazy", like, capital-C Crazy, because I'm painfully aware that I'm not able to deal with these things like a normal rational person and often it's agonizing to watch myself freak out over what I know is nothing.

[tobacconist]

english stage directions in the cornish mystery play 'Gwreans An Bys' c. 1611

[The father must be in a clowde and when he speakethe of heaven let ye levys open]

[Let hem offer to assend to ye trone the Angell stayethe hem]

[the father commeth before heven & speaketh to lucyfer]

[lett hell gape when ye father nameth yt]

 [All the Angells must haue swords and staves & must come to the rome wher Lucyfer ys]

[let lucyfer offer to go vpe to the trone]

[Let them fight wth swordis and in the end Lucyfer voydeth & goeth downe to hell apareled fowle wth fyre about hem turning to hell and every degre of devylls of lether & spirytis on cordis runing into ye playne and so remayne ther, 9 angells after Lucyfer goeth to hell]

[Adam and Eva aparlet in whytt lether in a place apoynted by the conveyour & not to be sene tyll they be called & thei knell & ryse]

[Let the father put Adam into paradise. Lett flowres apeare in paradice. Let Paradyce be fynelye made wyth fayre trees in yt And an appell vpon the tree & som other frute one the other. A fowntaine in Paradice & fyne flowers in yt painted]

[poynt to the tree]

[Let adam laye downe & slepe wher eva ys & she by the conveyour must be taken from adam is syde. Let the father take a bone owt of adam is syde]

[At the Father is comandemt she [leg. they] eryseth]

[Let fyshe of dyuers sortis apeare & serten beastis as oxen kyne shepe & such like]

[A fyne serpent made wth a virgyn face & yolowe heare vpon her head]

 [Let the serpent apeare & also gees & hennes]

 [After the father hath spoken lett hem departe to heaven in a clowde]

[Let the serpent wait in the plain]

[Let Lucyfer com to the serpent and offer to goe in to her]

[The serpent voydeth & stayeth and [Lucyfer agayn] ofereth to go in to her]

 [Lucyfer entreth into ye serpent]

 [let eva walke in paradice]

[the serpent singeth in the tree]

[Then eva wondreth of the Serpent when she speaketh. Lett Eva looke strangelye on the Serpent when she speakethe]

[Eva talketh famylyarlye wth the serpent and cometh neare hem]

[Let eva look angerly on the serpent and profer to depart.]

 [She commeth anear the serpent agayne and geveth heed to his words]

[Lett ye serpent bow downe the appll to eva, & she takethe ye appell]

[Eva departeth to Adam & presenteth hem the appll]

[Shew the appell to Adam]

[Profer the appell to Adam, he refuseth yt]

 [Lett her speak angerly to Adam]

 [Lett her profer to depart]

 [profer hem the appll]

[Eva gevethe hem the appll]

[Adam receveth the appll and doth tast yt and so repenteth and throweth yt away]

 [Eva loketh vpon Adam very strangly and speketh [not] eny thing]

[ffig leaves redy to cover ther members]

 [the father speketh to the serpent]

 [Lett Lucyfer com owte of the serpent, the serpent remayneth in the tree.]

 [And lett hem crepe on his belly to hell wth great noyse]

 [Let the father ascend to heaven] 

[desend angell]

[The garmentis of skynnes to be geven to adam and eva by the angell. Receave the garmentis. Let them depart owt of paradice and adam and eva folowing them. Let them put on the garmentis and shewe a spyndell and a dystaf]

 [Deathe departeth away]

[shew her ij sonnes]

[He speakethe to Cayne]

[He turnethe to Abell]

[A lamb redy with fyre and insence]

[A chawbone readye]

 [Abell ys strycken with a chawe bone and dyeth]

[Cast Abell into a dyche]

[when ye father speakethe to Cayme lett hem looke downe]

[Let not cayme looke in the father is face but look down & quake]

[Let the father make a marcke in his forehedd this word omega]

 [Let the father depart to heaven]

[Eva commeth to adam wher he lyeth and she proffer to take hem vpe]

[Eva is sorrowfulle tereth her haire & falleth downe vpon adam. he conforteth her]

[Cayme speakethe to hys wiff]

[Adam kneleth]

[Let hem shew the marck]

 [Som fardell to carre with them]

[Show Seth]

 [Adam kneleth & Seth also]

 [Bow and arw redy with the Servant]

 [depart lameck. his servant leadethe hem to the Forest near the bushe]

[Shew the marcke]

[Let hem hyde hem self in a bushe]

[let his man levyll the arrowe; and then shote]

 [when cayme is stryken lett bloud appeare & let hem tomble]

 [Lamec cometh to hem & fyleth hem]

[hear Lamec feleth hem]

[kill hem with a staf]

 [depart away]

 [the devills car[i]eth them wth great noyes to hell]

 [An angell in the gate of paradice, a bright sworde in his hand]

 [Let seythe depart and folow the prynt of adam is feet to paradice]

 [A tree in paradice with a meyd in the topp & reching in her armes the serpent]

 [Let seyth look into paradice]

 [Ther he vyseth all thingis. and seeth ij trees and in the one tree, sytteth mary the virgyn & in her lappe her son Jesus in the tope of the tree of lyf, and in the other tree ye serpent wch caused Eva to eat the appell]

 [The Angell goeth to the Tree of Lyf and breaketh an appll and taketh iij coores and geveth yt to seyth]

 [Seyth goes to his father with the coores & gyveth yt hem]

[Lett Death apeare to adam]

 [They go to hell wth great noyes]

[An Angell conveyeth adam's soole to lymbo]

 [Lett adam be buried in a fayre tombe wth som churche songis at hys buryall]

[The 3 kernels put in his mowthe & nostrels]

 [Enoch kneleth when the father speketh]

 [Enoch is caried to paradice]

 [Let hem poynt to the sun the moone & the firmament]

 [Four bookes to be shewed]

 [Two pyllars made, the on brick and thother of marbell]

 [Putt the pillers upright]

 [Noy commeth before heven & kneleth]

[tooles and tymber redy. wth planckis to make the arcke, a beam a mallet a calkyn yre[n] ropes mass[t]es pyche and tarr]

[Lett Tuball fall a laugh[i]ng]

[Let them both depart]

 [The arck redy and all maner of beastis and fowles to be putt in the arck]

[Let rayne appeare]

[a raven & a culver ready]

 [let the raven fle and the colver after]

 [The culver cometh wth a branche of olyf in her mouthe]

 [An alter redy veary fayre. Som good church songes to be# songe at the alter and frankensens]

[a Rayne bowe to appeare]

[blackjack-15]

mmm no syd's never been here and she's drinking it in...not that there's much to drink in

this isn't like bachelor 'chic' this is depression: the apartment

but i love that the show is dedicated to shattering any illusions she might have had about Chef Carmen Berzatto but also building her up to knowing just Carmy -- his asshole moments, his good points, his traumas, his sense of humor, and his quirks

blue sharpie -- blue again -- but hey i hope it's a sharpie that works?

um. carmy. that hand on her lower back?? completely unnecessary, but i'm thrilled we've absolutely shattered the touch barrier...but it was completely unnecessary touching, she was already moving.

syd just absorbing the jeans being in the oven is hilarious. the bear is a comedy

"don't look them in the eyes" i love you ebra

that cut to carmy's chef whites as syd is talking? more foreshadowing i think -- does syd have a nice pair of chef whites? is carmy gonna give her one (which would be Ridiculous of him those are so expensive but ii can kinda see him doing it as a vote of confidence? he's not great with money we've seen that)?

"chaos menu but, um...thoughtful?" that's carmy in a nutshell XD

my gosh him staring at her. baby.

it's SUCH interesting body language -- syd is forward, focused, writing, and carmy's standing with one hand on the counter, posture open and angled towards her? watching her as he speaks? i think he's gonna find himself in deep by the time he realizes even a little of what he's feeling, and it's gonna be beautiful

syd smiling at the chef's whites, at his monogram. this is 100% being set up for later. they already foreshadowed it in s2e1 with tina calling her "the new carmy", i'm just putting 2 and 2 together

HIM SNORTING AT HER LOOKING AT THEM. THEY'RE GIGGLING TOGETHER. I'M DYING

wait those were in a box last ep and the box was by the window. carmy was looking at them, they had camera focus. so why are they by the kitchen now? did he move them? why'd he move them? why, carmy, why would you do that i wonder?

"i bet it felt really good wearing it." "yeah, it did" gosh they're really going for this huh. they're stealing looks at each other, carmy's opening up...see if they go on like this they're both gonna get to the Point of No Return too quickly. so this is going to stop, and i have an inkling why (it's the one thing i'm spoiled for!) but...my gosh

syd tucking her hair behind her ear before asking him a question? girllllll you're In It

"i doubt i'm gonna tell you to f//k off" him admitting he'd probably tell her whatever she wanted to know? absolutely groundbreaking i love it this is adorable

"when you got that call. that three-star call" "f//k off" HE'S LAUGHING AND THE DIMPLES AND THE SMILE ARE OUT IT'S SO CUTE they're straight up flirting at this point, like, full stop. damn flirterers they're too cute

and she asks the question anyway! and he answers it anyway! his answer being panic -> dread isn't great, but he answers it! and makes a joke at the end and she laughs and makes another joke and he laughs!! it's great!! it's intimate, it's funny, it's soft and honest...this is an amazing conversation and their relationship literally cannot continue forward from here or else they're gonna get to first base way faster than the show's paced for so...come on out, miss complication, i know you're waiting in the wings...

oh no. that's mold. not the complication i was thinking of, but definitely a complication

"mold is the death knell" yuuuup i effing knew it oh gosh this is horrible

fun side note: the crapbox college apartment i lived in with 5 other girls for 3 years was closed for reno for like 2 full years after i finally moved out b/c the walls were just apparently full on mold behind the drywall. i heard about that and was like oh that explains the breathing problems (mold allergy!) from 18-21. huh.

they're just full on calling natalie mom. the foreshadowing is not subtle

carmy and syd work so well together and i'm about to get Violent about it aren't i

also carmy's writing in blue, syd's in red. stability and passion, love and loyalty, boldness and serenity, aggression and passivity.

just a note, those two colors make purple, aka the color that represents creativity, wisdom, wealth, and enlightenment. just saying, you know, if they wanted to make purple or something

[auntie-doom]

It's been a little over 4 months since open heart surgery on my POTS/MCAS/connective tissue funkiness trifecta self. The cardio surgeon was hoping to reduce a lot of those symptoms by repairing the hole in my heart; I was skeptical but willing to see if things changed (one way or the other, we all know this stuff can be set off by acute physical anything). I've resumed my POTS meds because they do still help.

I had another in-person doctor appointment that involved the usual stand up from waiting room, short walk to the scale, temp, pulse/ox, blood pressure... and WTF they were all NORMAL. I'm watching and some time in the last month (changes: resume clonidine, d/c post-surgery atorvastatin) the time--from orthostatic changes & HR jump then BP jump--to return to normal has reduced to just a few minutes.

I can watch my HR trickle rapidly back down to a reasonable working HR immediately after standing up. It no longer requires sitting still for fifteen minutes+ to get back to my resting rates! Whoa!

This is as unnerving (but in a good way) as finding out that my POTS was broken, half a year ago. But, I reiterate, in a really good way!

Also, before surgery I could barely eat and was steadily gaining weight. Since surgery I have been eating much more, and have lost more than 20 pounds. I was completely deconditioned four months ago; I am trying to exercise, but I am not in any way working hard enough to cause weight loss. Just one more *bong* in the "calories in/calories out" death knell.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Anyone remember this WIPpet? It got scrapped with the last attempt at the self-insert shenanigans, but I liked it so much I wanted to keep it. Thankfully, I found a way to rework it into the new version :) Plus some fun digs at myself because I am very much not a combatant and yet I'm throwing my SI into combat, lol

765 words of me-the-author having fun under the cut :D

~

"It's a good thing she had Knell to hold her together," Cuff said, caught somewhere between sneer and laughter. "She could never have survived long enough to get to Cipal otherwise."

"Should we step in?" Frey asked, trying not to wince when the zombie swiped Bobbi across the face with its claws.

"Are you joking? This is prime entertainment!"

"You don't think this is any funnier than I do," Frey retorted, and grabbed Bobbi's bow and quiver. She stayed crouched, torn between letting Bobbi prove herself, and not wanting to watch her new friend get torn apart by zombies.

"It's like watching a puppy tumble down a flight of stairs. Repeatedly." The delight in Cuff's voice made Frey grind her teeth. Asshole.

It didn't get better the longer they watched, either. At least Bobbi had the sense to lure the one zombie away from the group so she didn't pull aggro on the whole horde. And she got a little more confident over time. Still missed more often than she hit, and the few hits she did get in were paper cuts at best. 

"Do you know what I find fascinating?" Cuff asked a few minutes after Frey settled down cross-legged on the edge of the bluff to watch. 

"Hm?" Frey asked, only about halfway paying attention to him.

"Knell."

If Frey was a cat her ears would've perked up. "What about her?"

"She is in full control of that bond. There's nothing at all stopping her from stepping in."

Frey grit her teeth, thoughts running around in her head and colliding with each other. "Kinda glad she doesn't, though."

"You're not scared, are you? Not the mighty Tanta Frey?"

"Shouldn't I be? She's another Rheddig weapon. Like you."

"Oh, no, nothing like me," Cuff scoffed. "Nowhere near as powerful, for one thing. Considerably freer, for another. Your new friend is in over her head, and I don't think she knows it yet."

Bobbi slipped and fell on her ass trying to dodge the zombie. Happy accident that it worked; the zombie bowled right past her, and Bobbi scrambled to her feet again. 

"...I meant in regards to Knell," Cuff clarified, almost sheepish.

"What do you mean she's in over her head?" Frey asked, ignoring that last comment. She'd figured as much. 

"Knell is in full control of their bond," Cuff repeated, back on solid ground and sure of his words. "She wasn't cursed into that form like I was. She took it willingly. I've no idea why, of course, but I do find it very odd."

"How can you tell?"

"When you're as old as I am, Frey, you learn how to read and understand the power of those around you," Cuff said, affecting a wise and venerable air. Frey snorted. 

"You're only four years older than me," she reminded him.

"You go ahead and keep believing that." He had that smug tone that made her want to punch him again. "But I'm quite serious, I can tell by the way Knell has bound herself to your new friend that she is the one who set it. Not Bobbi, not a third party. It's quite similar to how I bound myself to you back in Newark."

"New York," Frey corrected, absently. Mostly on reflex at this point. "But weren't you already cursed by the other Tantas?"

"I was. That's why I said it's similar. I was cursed into that vambrace form, yes, but I chose to bind myself to you, Frey. Just as our Rheddig friend has chosen to bind herself to Bobbi."

Interesting. Frey put that information away for later. 

"What's that got to do with..." She gestured to the pantomime of a fight happening below her.

"Simply that I'm surprised Knell does nothing to protect her bearer. She certainly could with no ill-effect to Bobbi. Either how I protect you or by revealing her true form. I wonder why she doesn't."

"Huh." Frey clicked her tongue, now wondering the same thing. "Maybe—"

The zombie raked its claws down Bobbi's back, and Frey spotted a glimmer of light reflected off of something too small to see clearly from where she sat. Bobbi turned, a cry of pain filtered through gritted teeth, and the tip of her sword passed through that glimmer. 

Silver wire erupted from the contact point, pierced through the zombie and shredded it to ribbons that disintegrated on the wind. 

"Oh," Frey and Cuff said at the same time. Bobbi sheathed her sword and shook out her hands, which set Knell jingling enough Frey could hear it.

"...mine's better," Cuff grumbled.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

David Fuller: the ‘morgue monster’

David Fuller is a father-of-four who lived in a quiet cul-de-sac in Heathfield, East Sussex, working for most of his adult life as an electrician at hospitals serving the residents of Kent and Sussex.

Those close to him recoiled in horror when the true nature of his character was revealed - as Fuller was identified as a double murder who had spent years sexually abusing dead women and girls.

The family man, 67, with keen interests in birdwatching, cycling, and photography had been identfied as the prime suspect in the so-called “bedsit murders” when Wendy Knell, 25, and Caroline Pierce, 20, were both sexually assaulted and killed in separate attacks at their Tunbridge Wells homes in 1987.

Fresh analysis of DNA had picked out Fuller as the killer and a trawl of his home uncovered a terrifying collection of four million images on hard drives and floppy disks showing sexual offences.

Among the horrific catalogue of abuse was footage of Fuller himself interfering with bodies in the hospital morgue.

He has now admitted the double murder and the sexual abuse of dozens of victims, aged from just nine to 100-years-old, and he is almost certain to die behind bars.

There were possible signs of the horrors to come when Fuller was convicted in 1973 and 1977 for a series of ‘creeper’ home burglaries, involving break-ins through rear windows. He was spared a jail sentence at Portsmouth crown court.

Within the space of five months in 1987, he carried out the murders of Ms Knell and Ms Pierce in the streets of Tunbridge Wells that he knew well. Fuller had met Ms Knell at the SupaSnaps store in the town where she was the manager and he often took in his photographs to be developed.

Her body was discovered at her bedsit in Guildford Road on June 23, 1987, with tests revealing her naked body had been sexually assaulted after the attack and possibly once she was already dead.

On November 24, 1987, Ms Pierce was attacked by Fuller outside her bedsit in Grosvenor Park and the killer dumped her body around 40 miles away in a country lane ditch.

Fuller may have believed he got away with the murders as the years passed by but DNA evidence from the scene as well as a bloody fingerprint would eventually be his downfall, thanks to improving analysis technology and techniques.

SupaSnaps envelopes were found at his home, tying him to Ms Knell, and detectives found a diary entry showing he had visited the Buster Browns restaurant where Ms Pierce worked.

Fuller told a pack of lies to police but investigations revealed he had lived near to, or visited, the streets where both victims were killed. The discovery of the images and videos hidden at his home switched police attention to the now-closed Kent and Sussex Hospital where Fuller had worked from 1989 to 2010 and Tunbridge Wells Hospital where he was employed until his arrest.

Detectives discovered the killer had access to the morgues, using his swipe card to let himself in to abuse bodies after other staff members had left for the day.

He knew which parts of the morgue were covered by CCTV and carried out the abuse out of shot. But footage from his own collection, as well as detailed records of names and ages that he made, helped police to identify at least 80 people whose bodies have been interfered with.

Fuller eventually confessed to his sickening activities and admitted to police that he could not remember when it started or how many people he had abused. He insisted his motives were not sexual, but refused to discuss the abuse further.

A police hotline was set up to deal with hundreds of calls from the worried families of deceased people while the police investigation has widened once more to see if other historic violent and sexual crimes might be linked to Fuller.

He initially denied knowing either of the murdered women, then pushed the case to trial by claiming “diminished responsibility” for the killings. Ultimately, he pleaded guilty as the full details of his crimes were laid bare in court.

Police suspect Fuller may have abused hundreds of dead bodies during his life as a hospital electrician and maintenance worker.

[shamsaddinmegalommatis]

The Fake Texts of Ancient Greek 'Historians': the Behistun Inscription, Ctesias, Diodorus Siculus, Darius I the Great, and Semiramis

In a previous article published under the title 'Aristotle as Historical Forgery, the Western World’s Fake History & Rotten Foundations, and Prof. Jin Canrong’s Astute Comments', I wholeheartedly supported the position taken by the prominent Chinese Prof. Jin Canrong about Aristotle and I explained why Aristotle never existed as he is known today and most of his texts were not written by him, but by the pseudo-Christian Benedictine monks of Western Europe for the purpose of the ferocious imperial and theological battle that Rome carried out against New Rome-Constantinople and the Eastern Roman Empire. You can find the table of contents and a link to the publication at the end of the present article.   

Contents

Introduction

I. A fictional concept: the origin of the fraud

II. A construct based on posterior textual sources

III. The deceitful presentation

IV. 5th century BCE texts found in 15th c. CE manuscripts do not make 'History'.

V. Abundant evidence of lies and deliberate distortions attested in the manuscript transmission

VI. Darius I the Great, the Behistun inscription, and Ctesias

VII. The historical Assyrian Queen Shammuramat and the fictional Queen Semiramis of the 'Ancient Greek sources'

VIII. The malignant intentions of the Benedictine liars: from the historical Darius I the Great to the fictional Semiramis

IX. The vicious distortions of the Benedictine liars: from Ctesias to Herodotus

The Behistun inscription

Introduction

In the present article, I will offer a typical example of text falsification carried out by the Catholic monks, who did not 'copy and preserve' manuscripts of ancient Greek and Latin texts, as it has been mendaciously said by Western European and North American academics and lying scholars, but they purposefully falsified, distorted, concealed, destroyed and/or contrived numerous texts.

This enormous forgery took place in Western Europe between the 2nd half of the 8th century and the 1st half of the 15th century; the colonial era was launched exactly afterwards. For this reason, few manuscripts with Ancient Greek and Roman texts date before the 8th c.; in fact, most of them have been either distorted and replaced or hidden in the vast libraries still owned, controlled and administered that the anti-Christian Roman Catholic Church.

The purpose of this devious and evil effort was the fabrication of a fake narrative about the forged antiquity and the supposed importance of the Western Europeans according to the needs of world conquest, prevalence and preponderance of the pseudo-Christian Roman Catholic Church; this bogus-historical dogma, as direct opposition to and ultimate rejection of Orthodox Christianity, would be initially imposed as the 'scientific discipline of History' in Western Europe and subsequently projected onto the rest of the world by means of colonial invasion, indigenous identity destruction, moral integrity demolition, cultural heritage disintegration, educational subordination, economic exploitation, military subjugation, and socio-political domination.  

In other words, the monastical scribes and copyists created an entirely fake Euro-centric past, which became the rotten foundation of Western Europe. This fallacy became known as Judeo-Christian world and Greco-Roman civilization. However, the decipherment of ancient languages (Egyptian hieroglyphic, Old Achaemenid Iranian, Assyrian-Babylonian, Sumerian, Hurrian, Hittite, Urartu, Ugaritic, etc) and the study of millions of original texts, which were not copies of earlier sources but contemporaneous to the events that they narrated, sounded the death knell of the era of history fabrication programs.

With the post-Soviet rise of the great continental powers (China, India, Russia, etc.), the economic-military-political-ideological-educational-academic-cultural tyranny of the Western World started being overthrown throughout the earlier colonized world. The historical forgery that the colonial rulers imposed collapsed, the falsehood of the Eurocentric dogma of World History started being revealed and rejected, and an overwhelming project of total de-Westernization appeared as a prerequisite for the liberation of the Mankind from the lies of the European Renaissance, the Western Humanities, the White Supremacism, the Western European colonialism and racism, as well as from the falsehood of numerous subsystems of the construct, such as Classicism, Hellenism, Orientalism, etc.  

In our days, it is imperative for anti-colonial scholars to unveil the distortions applied to Ancient Greek and Latin texts by the medieval monks. Consequently, historians from all over the world have to work together in order to denounce and obliterate the Western fraud and the fake History of the Western Man, which consists in arbitrarily taking 14th c. CE manuscripts as authentic narratives of Ancient History.

I. A fictional concept: the origin of the fraud

Apparently, the present brief article cannot be an exhaustive presentation of the Western fraud, and of the historical forgery that the Western monks, manuscript copyists, collectors, academics and propagandists attempted to impose worldwide through colonial conquests, massacres and tyrannies. However, I can still enumerate the major founding myths of the Western World.

Two thematic circles of historical distortions and fraudulent claims made by the Western academia revolve around the following two entirely fabricated entities, which have conventionally but erroneously been called

a) "the Greco-Roman world" and

b) "Biblical Israel" and "Judeo-Christian civilization".

These ahistorical entities never existed. The original concept of those notions is purely fictional, and it therefore remains always unquestioned in the fraudulent Western universities. In this regard, the sources that the Western academics evoke to support their claims are posterior, untrustworthy, forged and therefore worthless.

At times, some of those texts represent merely ancient authors' misperceptions of earlier texts and authors; however, more often, the ancient texts have been tampered with. On other occasions, ancient texts that refute the lies of other historical sources are hidden from the general public and conventionally discussed among the Western academic accomplices.  

II. A construct based on posterior textual sources

The entire construct hinges on the deceitful presentation of several types of material forged, collected, concealed, interpreted, contextualized, narrated, repeatedly but intentionally discussed, supposedly questioned, and selectively popularized; this was due to the fact that the said material was incessantly utilized for the colonial needs and targets of the Western European powers (England, France, Holland, Spain, Portugal, and more recently the US). In fact, the Western World's fake History was created as the ultimate support of all colonial claims.

This process happened within a system in which posterior textual sources (preserved in medieval manuscripts) have occupied the central position, whereas the ancient epigraphic material, which was contemporaneous to the historical events under study, has been deliberately disregarded.

All later discovered data and pieces of information were either adjusted to the construct or methodically hidden; this is how the original concept, pathetically believed almost as a religious dogma, remained totally unchallenged down to our days.

III. The deceitful presentation

The quintessence of the deceitful presentation involves a vicious trick; people (pupils and students, but also scholars and intellectuals, as well as the general public) are taught and made accustomed to care mainly about the absolutely insignificant dates of birth and death of historical persons (authors, rulers, etc.), and not about the dates of the manuscripts in which these individuals are mentioned as supposed authors; this situation turns readers, students and scholars into pathetic idiots. 

Subsequently, we cannot seriously afford to describe Herodotus as a 5th c. BCE writer, because there is no manuscript with texts attributed to him, dating before the 10th c. CE. In addition, if we take into account the enormous number of other ancient authors decrying, denigrating and rejecting Herodotus' absurdities and malignancy, we have to permanently and irrevocably obliterate Herodotus from the History of Mankind and consider his false, paranoid and racist texts as a double Crime against the Mankind:

first, with respect to the original narrative (to which we don't have access as it was distorted by medieval monastical scribes and copyists) because the author attempted to disparage the superior Iranian civilization and the majestic Achaemenid universalist empire, while undeservedly praising the South Balkan barbarians, and

second, as regards the currently available text, which was forged as per the discriminatory intentions of the monks who altered and distorted it in their effort to fabricate the fake, modern divide (or dichotomy) East-West, and to offer a shred of historicity to it.

IV. 5th century BCE texts found in 15th c.  CE manuscripts do not make 'History'.

People get therefore addicted to considering as a true and original 'work' (of an ancient author) the manuscript (or manuscripts) in which the specific treatise, essay or book was copied perhaps 10 or 15 centuries after the author composed it. Due to a long chain of intermediaries (namely library copyists, librarians, scholars, monks, collectors, purchasers and/or statesmen), the transmitted text may have been partly or totally changed.

There is absolutely no guarantee as regards the honesty, the good intentions, the unbiased attitude, and the benevolent character of the perhaps 5, 10, 20 or 50 persons who -living in different eras and without knowing one another- may have constituted the chain of (unknown to us) intermediaries between the hand of the author and that of the last copyist whose manuscript was preserved down to our times.

Example: very little matters today whether the ancient author Diodorus Siculus or Siceliotes (西西里的狄奧多羅斯) actually lived in the 1st c. BCE or in the 3rd c. CE; quite contrarily, what is important for history-writing is the fact that the earliest known manuscript of his famous 'Bibliotheca Historica' (世界史) dates back to the 10th c. CE.

Consequently, the first piece of information that should be stated after the name of any 'ancient' Anatolian, Macedonian, Thracian, Greek, Roman and other author is the date of the earliest extant manuscript of his works.

V. Abundant evidence of lies and deliberate distortions attested in the manuscript transmission

An extraordinarily high number of original sources excavated in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Anatolia, Canaan, Iran and elsewhere, and subsequently deciphered, can be dated with accuracy; example: the Annals of great Assyrian emperor Tiglath-pileser III (745-727 BCE) were written during his reign. They are contemporaneous and therefore original.

However, in striking contrast to them, almost all the manuscripts with the works of ancient Greek and Roman authors whose texts have formed the backbone of the fraudulent historical dogma of the Western academia are not contemporaneous but posterior by, at times, 1500 or 2000 years.

Even worse, numerous ancient Greek authors' texts were not preserved through a manuscript tradition at all; they were saved as references in posterior authors' works. This concerns, for instance, Ctesias (克特西亞斯), an Ancient Carian (Anatolian) physician and erudite scholar, who lived and worked in the court of the Achaemenid Iranian emperor Artaxerxes II in the 5th c. BCE.

Later, willing to offer potential guidebooks to Iran and India for the use of various peripheral peoples and tribes of the Balkan region, Ctesias elaborated in Ancient Ionian (愛奧尼亞希臘語) two treatises to describe the state of things in Iran and in India. To the Western academic bibliography, his works are known (in Latin) as 'Persica' and 'Indica'.

These texts were not saved integrally in manuscripts copied for the purpose of preserving Ctesias' works, but they were preserved in Diodorus Siculus' 'Bibliotheca Historica'. Although he is not known through authentic and contemporaneous Iranian sources, we can deduce that Ctesias certainly spoke fluently the official language of the Empire and read Old Achaemenid cuneiform. Eventually, he may have also studied and learned Babylonian and Elamite cuneiform, namely two ancient Mesopotamian cuneiform languages and writings the use of which was maintained by Iranian scribes.

Apparently, Ctesias had a firsthand insight, as he lived for many years in Parsa (Persepolis), the capital of the Achaemenid Empire and he also traveled extensively along with the Iranian emperor. But, unfortunately, the following ordeal was produced.  

VI. Darius I the Great, the Behistun inscription, and Ctesias

One century before Ctesias served Artaxerxes II, the empire of Iran was saved by Darius I the Great (大流士一世; reign: 522-486), who overthrew a usurper, namely the Mithraic (密特拉教祭司) magus Gaumata (高墨达), and by so doing, preserved on the throne a dynasty of faithful Zoroastrian (瑣羅亞斯德教徒) monarchs.

To commemorate his great victory and the consolidation of the his dynasty, Darius I the Great had an enormous rock relief and a monumental inscription (貝希斯敦銘文) engraved on the rocks of Mount Behistun (貝希斯頓山), at a distance of 150 km west of Hamadan (哈马丹; Ekbatana/埃克巴坦那) in Western Iran (15 m high by 25 m wide and 100 m up the cliff). As it can be easily understood, these events occurred after the assassination of Cambyses, at the very beginning of Darius I the Great's reign.

It goes without saying that the successors of Darius I the Great and the imperial Iranian administration knew perfectly well the historical details and were fully aware of the imperial inscription that immortalized the event, which had obviously become the cornerstone of the imperial education.    

VII. The historical Assyrian Queen Shammuramat and the fictional Queen Semiramis of the 'Ancient Greek sources'

However, one century later, when Ctesias lived in Iran, served the Iranian Emperor, and spoke Old Achaemenid Iranian (and if not, he was surrounded by the Empire's top interpreters and advisers), something disastrously odd 'happened'.

According to Diodorus Siculus, who explicitly stated that he extensively quoted from Ctesias' text (Bibliotheca Historica, II 13), the imperial Carian physician and author appears to have attributed the Behistun inscription and the rock reliefs to none else than the Assyrian Queen Shammuramat (薩穆-拉瑪特), who was the queen consort of the Assyrian Emperor Shamshi Adad V (沙姆什·阿達德五世; reign: 824-811) and co-regent (811-805) during the first years of reign of her son Adad Nirari III (阿达德尼拉里三世; reign: 811-783)!

Furthermore, in the 'Ancient Greek' text of Diodorus Siculus, the monumental inscription was said to be written in Assyrian cuneiform (Συρίοις γράμμασιν)! Even worse, in the same text (as preserved today), it was also stated that, in the rock relief, there was also a representation of the Assyrian queen!

Ctesias' text, as preserved by Diodorus Siculus, is truly abundant in information, but it is historically impossible and therefore entirely forged. Due to this and many other texts, an enormous chasm was unnecessarily formed between

a) the historical queen Shammuramat of Assyria, whose historicity is firmly undeniable, due to the existence of several contemporaneous cuneiform sources excavated in Assyria, and subsequently deciphered and published,

and

b) the purely fictional Assyrian queen Semiramis (沙米拉姆) of the posterior Ancient Greek textual sources that were supposedly 'preserved' (but in reality deliberately distorted and forged) in the Benedictine manuscripts of Western Europe's monasteries.

However, if we examine closely the facts, we will surely understand what truly occurred in this case; then, we will be able to fathom how the fake History of the Western world was fabricated.

The Behistun inscription is trilingual, as it was written in Old Achaemenid Iranian (the earliest form of written Iranian languages), Babylonian, and Elamite; this was a very common practice during the Achaemenid times (550-330 BCE). The main figure of the associated rock relief is Darius I the Great, evidently the representation of a male royal.

One way or another, with respect to the Behistun inscription and rock relief, Ctesias certainly knew everything that we know today after the successive decipherments of the Old Achaemenid, Babylonian and Elamite cuneiform writings, or perhaps even more, due to the then extant oral tradition.

VIII. The malignant intentions of the Benedictine liars: from the historical Darius I the Great to the fictional Semiramis  

The Behistun inscription is not Assyrian; the representation is not that of female royal; and the monument is totally unrelated to Shammuramat, who had lived 300 years before Darius I the Great and 400 years before Artaxerxes II's physician Ctesias. More importantly, by that time, the Assyrian Empire did not occupy the lands surrounding Behistun. Accompanied by Iranian imperial officers and his associates, Ctesias certainly learned all the details of the monumental inscription that we can now read in articles, courses, lectures, books and encyclopedias.

The narrative was a triumph for Darius I the Great and a spectacular rebuttal of the vicious Mithraic Magi who had supported the defeated evil sorcerer and villain Gaumata. Apparently, writing a guidebook for Iran to help marginal people of the Empire's Balkan periphery, Ctesias did not have any reason to say lies. Moreover, we don't have any reason to believe that Diodorus Siculus needed to distort the truth to that extent, when copying and thus preserving Ctesias' masterpiece for the posterity.

However, the transmission of the details about the Behistun inscription embarrassed the Benedictine copyists who wanted to denigrate Darius I the Great and to portray his great empire in a most derogatory manner. They had already proceeded in this manner, distorting other manuscripts, forging texts, and fabricating their pseudo-historical narratives at will.

That is why Ctesias' pertinent text, which had certainly been preserved in its original form within Diodorus Siculus' Bibliotheca Historica, was intentionally distorted by the Benedictine 'Holy Inquisition of Libraries', which fabricated the myths of today's Western world some time after the middle of the 8th c. CE. To be accurate, Ctesias' historical description was entirely replaced by a fictional and historically nonsensical account.

The unbelievable lies -invented and included in Diodorus Siculus' quotations from Ctesias- risked making of the fictional queen Semiramis a world ruler! Whereas the Assyrian Empire at the end of the 9th c. BCE did not control even the western half of today's Iranian territory, the unequivocally mythicized Semiramis had supposedly sent her armies up to India where those fictitious Assyrian soldiers were trampled by the elephants. This worthless narrative that replaced Ctesias' original text may very well have been invented as a 'historical' excuse for Alexander the Great's failure to advance deep inside India.

IX. The vicious distortions of the Benedictine liars: from Ctesias to Herodotus

But if the fictional Semiramis' Indian campaign is entirely false, so are then the preposterous narratives of Herodotus about Darius I the Great's and Xerxes I the Great's campaigns in the insignificant and barbarian circumference of South Balkans. These texts involved evil purposes, heinous anti-Iranian biases, fictional battles, racist discourses, vicious lies, incredibly large number of the Iranian armies, and absurdly high number of Iranian casualties.

The mendacious but idiotic Benedictine monks, who wrote those slander tales did not apparently expect that, sometime in the future, excavations would bring to light splendid Iranian antiquities, original cuneiform documentation, and trustworthy contemporaneous historical sources, whereas a systematic effort of decipherment would offer to people all over the world direct access to historical texts written in dead languages, thus irrevocably canceling Herodotus' nonsensical report and, even more importantly, the later distortions that the Benedictine monks made on their worthless manuscripts.

In any case, had those fictional campaigns against 'Greece' had a shred of truth to them, they would have certainly been documented one way or another in various Old Achaemenid, Babylonian, Elamite, Imperial Aramaic, Egyptian hieroglyphic or other sources; but they were not.

Even worse, the meaningless and ludicrous battles of Marathon, Thermopylae, Salamis, and their likes would have been commemorated by the Seleucids, the Ptolemies, and the Attalids all the way down to the Romans and the Eastern Romans. But we know quite well that the nonexistent, fictional past of the so-called Ancient Greek world was absolutely irrelevant to them: precisely because it had not yet been fabricated.

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Aristotle as Historical Forgery, the Western World’s Fake History & Rotten Foundations, and Prof. Jin Canrong’s Astute Comments

Contents

I. Aristotle: a Major Founding Myth of the Western World

II. When, where and by whom was the Myth of Aristotle fabricated?

III. The Myth of Aristotle and its first Byproducts: Scholasticism, East-West Schism, the Crusades & the Sack of Constantinople (1204)

IV. Aristotelization: First Stage of the Westernization and the Colonization of the World

V. Aristotelization as Foundation of all the Western Forgeries: the so-called Judeo-Christian Heritage and the Fraud of Greco-Roman Civilization

VI. The Modern Western World as Disruption of History

VII. The Myth of Aristotle and the Monstrosity of Western Colonialism 

======================

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[ltwilliammowett]

An East Indianman in the Thames or On the Medway - bringing a disabled ship into port, by William Adolphus Knell c. 1864

[vonbaghager]

imo if youtube starts deleting videos from channels that haven’t been active in years i think that’s the death knell for the whole site b/c there’s a lot of, like, channels devoted to animations and passion projects that can go years between posting, or channels that archive an artist’s past works before they rebranded and moved to a different/more professional channel

there’s more than a few vids whose original files are long gone, which exist only on youtube and the hard drives of whatever soul was kind enough to download them. YT2MP3 and similar pages are about to get a truly enormous amount of traffic.

i can’t imaging the decision to wipe out a collective thousands of years of human creation will go over well. not for twitter, not for youtube, not for anyone or anything.