#and conduct unethical science experiments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diejager · 2 years ago

Note

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people.

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility.

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need.

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers.

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked.

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border.

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch.

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage.

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale.

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use.

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration.

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening.

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects.

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them.

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost.

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children.

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything.

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power.

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful.

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34.

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive.

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful.

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant.

What did Laswell sign them into?

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

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deathbxnny · 7 months ago

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Alhaitham & Dottore with reader that’s like Ruan Mei

- (●’◡’●)ﾉ

I actually really loved thinking of this dynamic, so thank you for your request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this!!<3

Content: Reader is morally grey and questionable?, established relationship, Dottore is his own warning, mentions of unethical science experiments, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》ALHAITHAM

When he met you, you two immideatly hit it off due to your extremely similar personalities. On the surface, at least. You were both very focused and work driven, as you rarely allow yourself to be distracted from anything. Your equal disinterest in socializing of any kind made you bond as well, as you simply avoided large gatherings or get togethers to spend time with eachother instead. A change that came as a surprise to the both of you.

You enjoy spending your free time simply reading or going over work notes in the others' presence, preferably in silence. Oftentimes, you can also lose yourselves in deep and profound conversations about life and philosophy. He loves how intelligent you are, as it pairs well with his own well-read mind too.

With that said, your main difference definitely lies in your moral ethics regarding projects and your experiments in general. Even if he may be quite emotionless visibly, Alhaitham still believes that your creations deserve proper care and therefore forces you to contemplate your own actions in many self-reflections. Not that you mind. If anything, you found this to be even more helpful to your research.

You two definitely match eachother well and make up for the other persons faults, which always works out perfectly in the end.

》DOTTORE

This man loves the more unsettling side to you more than you'll ever know. You are emotionless naturally and have always felt a certain discomfort at the lack of care for anything or anyone at that in your life. And yet, he finds absolute enjoyment in it. In fact, he enables you to do better, to work harder, to create and research more. He wants you to become the best version of yourself, or whatever he thinks that version may be.

He'll help fund any research or experiment you want to conduct in any form possible. Whether through money or unwilling subjects, as long as you give him front row seats to you working away, he'll be there for it all. His clones are also always at your disposal if you need them. He'll also understand your disinterest for your creations, seeing them as useless himself if they don't serve the purpose you created them for.

You two, however, also have much more calmer and normal moments with eachother, something you actually taught him. You'll drink tea or listen to calming music whilst discussing your latest research with one another rather often. It gives you both the downtime needed to refocus on work later once it's time to get back to the labs.

Your relationship may be unhinged to most, but that doesn't matter to the both of you in the slightest, as long as you're together.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin alhaitham #genshin alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #al haithem #genshin dottore #genshin dottore x reader #dottore x reader #dottore #genshin x y/n

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disniq · 2 years ago

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i can't believe bruce yellow wallpapered jason

Hi Anon! I know you're probably being facetious, but genuinely it makes absolute and total sense to me given Bruce's history with Jason!

For all of Bruce and Jason's recurring physical beat-down fights, it's the psychological and emotional abuse that's always felt more insidious to me.

This is the man who purposely tricked Jason into returning to the scene of his own brutal murder in the hopes that he would relive his own death so Bruce could figure out how he came back.

Batman and Robin (2011) #20

This is the man who hits Jason harder than he hits the Joker. Who beats his son so badly he can't even fire a gun a month later, and then only shows up to say "you're not welcome in Gotham, your best friend is dead, and you need the occasional beating to keep in line, but we have each other's backs".

RHatO (2016) #25 and #27

This is the man who sent Jason undercover with literal, actual, known villains conducting extremely unethical science experiments, almost getting Jason killed multiple times. And then, when Jason raised concerns about them letting this operation continue, Bruce ignored him, brushed his concerns aside, and treated Jason as though this was all his fault.

Task Force Z #4 and #6

Not to mention Bruce's habit of consistently *starting* fights with Jason and then twisting it around to blame Jason, to make him think it's his choice and not Bruce's.

Task Force Z #6 | Catwoman #57 | RHatO #25

So, yeah.

I can believe Bruce Yellow Wallpapered Jason

#bruce wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne critical #gotham war #gotham war spoilers #asked and answered

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lizardperson · 1 month ago

Text

mad scientist

fandom: original work (ocverse - warcrimes au) rating: m wc: 393 prompt: #fff305 divine questioning for @flashfictionfridayofficial note: i couldn't stop thinking about how offended Helena would be to be called a mad scientist in the comments to last week's bit (#fff304), so let's have a little non-serious, non-canon silliness.

---

"Can you believe this? I have been called a 'mad scientist'!" Helena complains, arms crossed in front of her chest, looking very offended. "Sofiya, this is not funny!"

"Sorry," I snort, trying very hard to stifle my laugh. It is funny though.

"And I really don't get it, to be honest!"

"I mean, with the whole 'playing God' and 'resurrecting the dead' -" I start to explain, but she interrupts me.

"Just one dead!"

"- in a makeshift lab -"

"This is not a makeshift lab!" Helena huffs. "It's an old medical facility I retrofitted for my purpose. And it wasn't easy to find, actually."

"'Looking for evil science lair for unethical experiments. Serious offers only.'" I am still trying so hard to make a serious face, barely succeeding.

"Not funny." Despite her complaining, even she can't help but crack up a little herself.

"Anyway, this all does seem kind of Frankenstein-y," I remark.

"Who says Frankenstein didn't have a point."

"Uh-huh."

"Doesn't make him mad! Or me, for that matter. This has nothing to do with madness. It's all very rational science," Helena grumbles.

"Are you seriously offended by this? Not like it's the first time you get a weird nickname… 'Dr. Death'."

She rolls her eyes. "Pff."

"'Plaguebringer'."

"That one at least has a certain poetry to it!"

"'Scourge of Torus IV'."

"I still don't know how that one stuck, I was barely involved in the whole project," she objects. I don't think the people of Torus IV care for those details.

I watch her for a moment. "This really bothers you." She never seemed to have a problem with being called a war criminal, but apparently this is where she draws the line.

"Do you think I'm mad?"

"I think you're a lot of things. Brilliant. Overly ambitious. Very ruthless. But no, 'mad' isn't on that list."

"Well, that's something," she acknowledges, at least a little content with my answer.

"I guess all great minds are misunderstood. You poor thing are in great company." I just can't help but tease her a little bit about this whole ridiculous conversation.

"If you get sassy, I'll put you into a contraption and really do conduct strange experiments on you," Helena threatens, trying to look serious.

"Oh? Like what?" I wiggly my eyebrows at her, finally cracking her composure and making her laugh.

#flash fiction friday #lizardwriting #fia tag #helena tag #otp: sleep paralysis #warcrimes au

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bardic-tales · 2 months ago

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Day 12 | Diana Ravenscroft | Day 14

31 days of FF 7 Headcanons: Day 13: Experimental History

Today's explores the chilling legacy of Diana Ravenscroft, but not as a victim of Shinra’s experimentation. She is a willing participant and architect of her own descent. Unlike figures such as Sephiroth or Vincent, Diana’s transformation was not inflicted but chosen. Her journey through self-experimentation and unchecked scientific ambition paints a stark portrait of what happens when ethical lines are systematically erased in pursuit of progress.

This entry delves into how Diana’s physical enhancements, emotional detachment, and psychological unraveling were all byproducts of her own choices, forged in the cold laboratories of Shinra’s science division. This is not a redemption arc. It is a case study in dehumanization: one that begins with personal tragedy and ends in dangerous delusion.

Possible Trigger Warnings: body horror, chronic psychological deterioration, dehumanization, emotional trauma, ethical violation, grief-related obsession, loss of bodily autonomy (through experimentation on others), manipulation, medical experimentation, mental instability, self-harm through scientific procedures, trauma-induced dissociation, unethical scientific practices.

Diana Ravenscroft was never a victim of Shinra's experimentation in the traditional sense. She was not strapped to a table, subjected to forced infusions or nonconsensual procedures. Instead, Diana willingly offered herself up for minor experimentation, believing that personal risk was necessary to validate her theories. These tests were not sanctioned, nor were they peer-reviewed. They were reckless, unsupervised, and conducted in private. The changes they wrought in her physiology were subtle: an elevated tolerance to Mako exposure, marginally faster cellular regeneration, and an increasing resistance to fatigue and environmental toxins. But these gains came at a cost. Diana began to experience chronic insomnia, erratic emotional regulation, and a gradual numbing of her capacity for empathy. These were not unintended consequences to her. They were trade-offs, and in her mind, worthwhile ones.

What truly altered Diana, however, was not the physical impact of the experimentation, but the psychological framework she built to justify it. As a scientist operating under Professor Hojo, she internalized a worldview that placed results above ethics and progress above consent. Her self-experimentation was only the beginning. The more she learned from the cellular responses of her own body and those of Shinra’s test subjects, the more convinced she became that human biology could, and should, be rewritten.

Diana’s moral compass, already cracked by personal trauma, was effectively dismantled by the culture of scientific exceptionalism in Shinra’s labs. She did not see her own experiments as morally questionable, but as necessary steps in the advancement of human evolution.

Emotionally, Diana underwent a quiet but profound dissociation. The trauma of losing her brother to a genetic disorder had left a permanent mark on her psyche, creating a warped sense of responsibility toward human fragility. Rather than grieve and move forward, she resolved to eliminate the concept of fragility altogether by any means necessary. Her emotional development stalled, her relationships grew increasingly transactional, and she stopped seeing people as individuals. They became data points, control groups, variables to tweak or discard. Diana did not become a monster overnight. She became efficient, stripping away anything in herself that didn’t serve her mission. That emotional sterilization wasn’t a side effect of experimentation. It was the experiment.

Mentally, the long-term consequences were even more profound. The constant exposure to Mako radiation, self-modification, and ethical compromise left Diana unmoored from reality. She clung to her theories like doctrine, convinced that immortality was within reach if she could just find the right combination of genetics: Jenova, celestial, infernal, SOLDIER.

She developed an obsessive fixation on replicating and surpassing the “success” of Sephiroth, not for power or glory, but for proof: proof that suffering could be engineered out of the human condition. This singular focus made her dangerous. Not because she was evil in the cartoonish sense, but because she genuinely believed she was saving humanity, even as she destroyed lives in the process.

Ultimately, Diana’s experimentation changed her in every measurable way. Physically enhanced, emotionally stunted, mentally unstable, Diana became a mirror of the very system that created her. She was not a victim. She was a product, a volunteer, and, most importantly, a cautionary tale.

Her story serves not as a tragedy, but as a warning about what happens when ambition is left unchecked, when science is divorced from ethics, and when a person chooses utility over humanity. Diana Ravenscroft did not break under Shinra’s boot. She climbed the ladder, built her own lab, and broke others in the name of progress.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy @serenofroses

#31 days of headcanons #31 doh: ff #31 doh: diana ravenscroft #31 doh: day 13 #fwc: ff #ff vii oc #characters: fwc #characters: fwc: ff #au: canon divergent #bardic tales #bardic-tales #headcanon: fwc: ff #By🔥⚔️#By🌸🌙#BladeAndBloom #oc: diana ravenscroft

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niiwa-angel · 5 months ago

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Funniest idea I've had recently about the Deceptions. It's an even split between Divas and Gladiators, which leads to interesting clashes.

Megatron, former gladiator: I will wear the blood of my enemies to prove my fortitude.

Knockout, 50,000 step skincare routine, attacking him with a hose: Let's have some standards!!

~~~

Shockwave, forgets to bathe because science: I must conduct unethical experiments.

Starscream, OG diva: Your stench is contaminating the lab!! To the wash racks!!

~~~

Barricade: We shall keep the place dark to motivate us towards the light of glorious victory!

Soundwave, who isn't a diva but is a father: query: why?

~~~

Lugnut: Why wash the dishes if we're just going to get them dirty again anyway?

Skywarp, activating his blasters: I want off this shit hole planet.

~~~

Bone crusher: we waste time and resources with the cleaning drones! We should repurpose them as assault drones!

Ravage and Airachnid: We're defecting

#transformers #decepticons #tf barricade #tf shockwave #tf soundwave #tf starscream #tf skywarp #tf bonecrusher #tf megatron #tf lugnut #tf knockout

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galadrieljones · 9 months ago

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A demon among angels, huh? 👀

Let it be known that I don't think Daryl is a demon lol. Obviously, he's a good man and a moral character. I do, however, think he's a fallen angel. With his tattered, black leather wings, his fall from grace and journey through hell has reminded me of the literary Lucifer. Lucifer means "light bringer" and also "morning star," which is the name of the weapon that Daryl has wielded since season 10, the eponymous episode, in which he leads his people into rebellion against Alpha, a psychopath who certainly regards herself as a god.

In Christian texts, Lucifer, an angel, was cast out of heaven for questioning God and even believing that he could become God, as well as for recruiting a third of God's angels to join him in his rebellion against God. In Dante's Inferno, Lucifer is portayed as a cold and grotesque being in the Underworld, lonely and chewing the heads of betrayers such as Judas Iscariot. He's not a villain, per se. He's just lost, and in the old literature, he was never found again.

Re: the dialogue with Genet:

Speculation time. I believe Daryl is being used by Losang, and I think that Genet knows this, and I think that's what she's referring to in this scene, and why she's laughing maniacally. I think that possibly, Genet is not the "true" villain of the story. She is a villain, but that's just our current point of view. We don't know what Losang wants, but we do know that he wants something that has to do with Laurent. We know that Genet is his enemy. We also know that Genet's faction the Power of the Living has persecuted the Wildfire scientists, hunting, jailing, and killing them since the Fall. Since persecution is bad, we all assume that what Genet did was bad, and that she's the bad guy. But what if it's not really that simple? And what if she truly believed she had a good reason to do what she did? Everybody views her as the devil, but what if the "angels" that she fights are not as angelic as they seem?

For example, what if the scientists were abducting and experimenting on innocent people? On children? Would the fact that they are working on a cure for mankind excuse this? We have proven precedent for this kind of thing happening before, in both World Beyond and The Ones Who Live. The CRM has been used as a major proxy for the magical science of unethical thinking. This exact same conflict (sacrificing the few for the greater good) is also explored in "Coda," when Dawn tries to convince Beth to stay, because her sacrifice is important, because what she's doing there could be "the most important thing she does in her life."

Of course, we have no idea what Dawn is talking about.

We know now, too, that Laurent will be taken from Daryl and Isabelle, as TD predicted some time back, and I'm guessing it will be Losang who takes him, whether by force, or because he somehow gaslights Laurent into going with him willingly. Where is Losang taking him, and why? What is the "ceremony?" What is Losang's relationship to the scientists that Genet hates so much? Why is he Genet's enemy?

Realize that this is all pretty much hypothetical speculation at this point, so just consider it food for thought.

Re: Losang's motivations at the Nest:

Remember that Daryl was outside with Laurent when somebody came and told him that Losang wanted him at that meeting, where they discussed what to do about Fallou and Emile. Losang dismisses Daryl's suggestions, obviously, because he's a *pacifist,* but if Losang truly didn't want to hear it, or if he truly didn't want others to hear it, then he wouldn't have told Daryl to come inside. He wanted Daryl there. Because, ultimately, he needs him. He just doesn't want the others to know this, or to know why.

Later, Losang tells Daryl that a team is being assembled to intercept Genet. Daryl tells him he is going to go. Losang doesn't say no. He simply *discourages* the use of violence. He is *unhappy* with how Daryl conducts himself, and yet...

He knows that Daryl will do whatever it takes to get Fallou and Emile back. If he fails, or people die, then Losang can simply blame Daryl for being too aggressive, overly violent, for rushing in too soon. It makes Losang look good. If he succeeds fully, and he even manages to kill Genet, well, then, that's great. It makes Losang look good, too. Losang is using Daryl as a means to an end with Genet, but he also fears that Daryl's influence on Laurent will be too strong. Daryl is an A, remember. He may not relish the fact, but he is very good at leading people, particularly the disenfranchised and the meek.

Like Dawn, Losang needs his "wards" to be as weak as possible. They need to be Bs. If they begin to fight back, then they might accidentally find out what the hell is really going on here, and that's bad. (I have really longwinded, detailed theories about what the hell could be going on here, but it's not time yet for those lol). Anyway, commence the comparison between Daryl at the Nest and Beth at Grady. More on that soon. But first.

Re: Lucifer Archetypes:

This is a slight digression. I have begun to think of the literary Lucifer archetype, the trope of the renegade, fallen angel, because it's indicative often of a character who is struggling with their faith, and struggling with how to proceed in a derelict world. This is very relevant to Daryl right now.

This trope is not relegated to Daryl in TWDU. Though he's the one with the wings, there are many Lucifer archetypes in the series, including major characters like Rick, Shane, Madison Clark, and Father Gabriel. These are essentially rebellious thinkers, revolutionaries, a lot like Daryl, who, at one point or another, get a little too ahead of their skis and go tumbling off the mountain, face first. They lose their pious nature, their goodness, their faith in God and in people, but the key to being the hero in a sick and dying world is that, despite the odds, they find their faith again. This is where the Lucifer trope becomes, essentially, a Christ allegory.

I know that @frangipanilove has written brilliantly about the Lucifer/Christ dichotomy, and while this is mostly unrelated to that, I think there is some similarity at work. Lucifer and Christ are two sides to one coin. Often times, in a story, a character must fall from grace before they can rise again and lead their people to salvation. Of course, not all characters make it past their descent. Some of them are too far gone (Shane, I'm looking at you) and for some, the jury is, essentially still out (like Father Gabriel or Madison Clark).

Beth, by the way, also struggles with her faith while she's at Grady. It's quiet, but she risks losing who she used to be. One of the reasons her "death" is so frustrating, in fact, is that she sort of dies at a low point. She is framed as a hero, and yet, we never really get to see her "rise again." Not truly. Her death is senseless, the point of view confusing. We don't know what she's thinking, or why she does the things she does. Her journey is incomplete.

Re: Dirty Work

Now, more on Beth at Grady. Beth, while in the process of trying to figure out what she believes, is, like Daryl, used by some sort of manipulative "superior" to do the "dirty work." In searching for who to believe, she finds herself caught in the crossfire, a puppet in a war that doesn't even involve her. This is what spurs her renegade spirit, and her desire to rebel. This is SO MUCH like Daryl in France, right down to the part where Dawn is trying to convince Beth to stay, against her own instincts, I don't even know where to begin.

The phrase dirty work is interesting because it shows up several times in relationship to Daryl. Pope mentions "dirty work," too, in "Rendition." He tells Daryl about his mercenary company, who were once hired by "politicians" to do their "dirty work."

The role of a mercenary is related to the cardinal sin of indifference, more popularly known as sloth. Indifference is used to describe sinners who cannot make difficult choices, who will not choose sides in the great big war of our lives. Yes, this is a sin. Perpetrators of indifference only make choices that are most beneficial to them in the moment, or which constitute the path of least resistance. Biblically, it's often associated with one turning away from God, because making choices to live a life dedicated to Christ have become too demanding. In the episode "Indifference" (4.4), Carol essentially accuses Rick of such, re: "You can be a farmer, Rick, but you can't only be a farmer." Maybe Carol acted rashly in killing Karen and David, but at the same time, in growing too comfortable with his situation at the prison, Rick has essentially lost his moral compass. He's missing the war.

Indifferent characters often end up doing a LOT of the dirty work in a war, and they make many deadly mistakes, because their code is compromised. Wolves on either side of the war can sense this and have figured out how to use them to their benefit. They pay them, they threaten them, they manipulate them, etc. etc. etc. To win the war, you have to choose a side. That's the message. Otherwise, you get used, as a mercenary.

This keeps coming up. The concept of having to make difficult choices, of having to choose sides in a war you never asked to be a part of. Somewhere along the line, you find yourself doing things that will haunt you for the rest of your life, and then later, you realize that these choices came at the behest of some fancy "politician," be it a police officer, the President of the United States, or some other "diplomatic" wolf who used you. While Beth was busy trying to save her friend Carol and trying to figure out how to escape from Grady, Dawn was busy using her, to kill not one but TWO of her officers, in a bid to further her own agenda. It is, in fact, this very indiscretion that finally turns Beth against Dawn for good, empowering her to finally choose a side.

Remember, too, that while *we* and Team Family referred to Pope's group as the Reapers, which are, in and of themselves, like "angels" of death, Pope never once refers to them as such. Pope calls his people "The Chosen Ones."

He calls them this because, at the end of the world, while doing their dirty work, they were in a city that, like so many others, was napalmed during Operation Cobalt, and they walked out of the fire, not only alive, but completely untouched, "without a scratch." Pope seems to believe that his people are chosen and protected by God, and he anoints Daryl as such. They are a religious organization. They may appear to be misguided, but they chose God. So while they're angels of death, sure, they're also apparently immortal, Christ-like figures out to cleanse the land of evil. They accept Daryl into their home. They feed him, defend him. We like Daryl, so this is good, right? In a lot of ways, in TWDU, whether someone is an Angel of Death or a Chosen One, a villain or a hero, is simply a matter of perspective, which can change dramatically depending on where we are in the story, at any given time. That's part of what I think is going on this season of DD, with Genet and Losang. I think it's also a really important theme to remember when dealing with a character like Daryl, who has many sides and is capable of many things.

I really don't know what any of this means yet, by the way. And I'm kind of tired and so I know I'm rambling on and on about angels and Jesus and Lucifer, etc. etc. But there has to be a reason that Losang, like Dawn did to Beth, is using Daryl to do his "dirty work." I think it says something about Daryl, and about Beth, that they are living in limbo. I think that Pope and the Reapers are likely meant to function as a sort of allegory here. They're what happens when this sort of thing plays out to its most demonic conclusion. You get somebody like Leah, who has become so twisted that she can no longer function in any sort of cooperative society. She ends up trying to kill the same man she once loved, because she's been manipulated by Lance Hornby, a wolf. Leah dies a mercenary, but she wasn't always one. At one point, she helped Daryl, offered him comfort, etc.

Similar to Shane, she's like the cautionary tale, what could happen to somebody like Daryl OR Beth if they become "too far gone," and they can no longer get on the right path toward redemption. That's what I'm trying to get at with all the Lucifer/Christ/Indifference stuff. Daryl must choose a side, and he must rise again (or, he could descend forever, though I think that's unlikely lol). The side he chooses may not even be Genet or Losang. In fact, it probably won't. It will likely be rebellious, but this, in and of itself, IS a side for a character like Daryl. This stuff also informs what we never saw with Beth, despite narrative promises that were made in season 5. Beth certainly led her own rebellion in the halls of Grady Memorial, even though we saw just a snag.

Anyway. Whatever happens with Daryl and Losang, I essentially think it could really inform our understanding of what happened back at Grady, too. We'll just have to wait and see.

#the walking dead #bethyl #team delusional #anonymous

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