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maxknightley · 9 months

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on the one hand I do understand where people are coming from when they respond to The White American Desire For Authentic Culture by going "you already have a culture" and pointing out that this desire often has reactionary undertones

that being said, I think it's largely sidestepping the actual issue, which is that American culture fucking blows chunks. American culture is strip malls and military worship and the elevation of mass-market pablum to Bold Artistic Statements.

and subculture is only partially an escape from this, because most subcultures exist within the same constraints of American culture as a whole; they are captured and redefined by capital on such a frequent basis that it often feels impossible to hold onto them in any meaningful way.

moreover, even the parts of American culture that aren't complete garbage are more or less inextricable from the colonial, imperialist, and racially-stratified history of the country. like, I think of that post that went around a while ago talking about "America sucks but has some good parts," and one of the things it listed was national parks, and people (rightfully!) pointed out that the national park system is fundamentally flawed and tends to shit on indigenous nations by design.

the only thing I can think of that's even sort of an exception is pop culture - jazz and rock music, superhero comics, Hollywood. and all of those are, again, captured and defined by capital, and in one way or another have historically been built on screwing over the artist.

so we come to a position, one way or another, where a lot of people say something like: "I'm alienated. I'm surrounded by traditions and institutions I think are shit; I have no way to meaningfully undermine them, and I can't escape them without effectively destroying my life. the culture I was born into is a gravestone on top of another gravestone, lifeless and miserable, and people are constantly shouting that I should be grateful because it's The Greatest Country In The World."

at that point, one seeks an escape, and I think there are three major routes here.

one is to become a weird lib obsessed with the Real Soul Of America. America is really about the good parts, not the bad parts which outnumber them and which they are built upon.

another is to fixate on the Exotic, for lack of a better word. cultures which you do not have an obvious "connection" to, but which fascinate you or appeal to you. obviously this can be pretty fucking fraught, though I would argue that taking an interest in other cultures is a good thing if you aren't shitty about it. (That's its own conversation.)

the third is to fixate on the culture(s) you feel you "ought to have" had, that which was sacrificed on the altar of whiteness by grandparents or great-grandparents who, frankly, had different concerns. to look at a culture that may still be defined in many ways by cruelty and stratification - the way I would argue most human civilization has been - but that seems to have had something else going on, at least. a culture that may not have been recognizable 500 years ago, but at least it existed.

again, none of these impulses is beyond criticism, and I think it would be naive to say that the last one can't have reactionary undertones. I also doubt these impulses are unique to the USA! alienation is extremely common in today's world, and it's not as though the USA is the only settler state in existence.

what I am saying is more that I think the conditions that lead to these fixations are worth paying attention to, and that dismissing them with "you already have a culture" kind of misses the point in favor of getting in a zinger. people wouldn't want a different culture if they were happy with the one they had. like so many other things, people want one that Doesn't Completely Suck. failing that, they'd probably like to not be defined by any culture at all - but that, tragically, is just as impossible.

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samodivaa · 10 months

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Soul-debasing Interrogation

Winter Soldier x Agent!Reader

Both his mentality and body can withstand anything—to err is...human—you are the human in this situation.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking

Words - 2900

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His face is a reflection of the past, of what is left of his life before, but his humanity has long forgotten where it belongs. You are now looking at something resembling a semi-death state, you can’t even comprehend the present condition of his soul, the mental pain or unbearably oppressive suffering he has been put through—a living creature, somewhat both broken and whole at the same time.

His eyelids slowly open, dark orbs focusing on the floor as he lets out a loud groan. He has the violent urge to move, but behind his back, both hands are bound with rope designed to eat away at the skin when he moves, even slightly. His ankles are as well bound to the legs of the chair—he makes an internal scoff at his current state.

“Here we go” you are already standing in between of his wide spread legs, grabbing his chin in a painful hold, waiting to speak when his glossy eyes are fully focused on yours “Try not to let this room scare you.”

A slumbering rage is stirring, rippling just beneath the surface. You are on the borderline, caught between the tides of fear and fury—him looking at you without blinking dismembers you mentally, but at the same time convinces him of the necessity to fight your fear.

It’s been days and nothing works, he seems unbreakable.

“Talk”

his jaw between your fingertips, grip still painfully tight, fingers turning white.

You are so sweet with your business-like tone—just imagine ripping out the tongue, so you could never speak again.

You study his features for a moment longer before letting go of his chin to slap his face hard, frowning in a sign of dissatisfaction.

“I said talk!“

„Ты так красива, что я забыл что хотел сказать тебе“ (You are so beautiful that I forgot what I wanted to tell you)

He finally says after a dramatic pause, his voice carrying its mocking undertones.

„You sick son of a bitch!“

You slap him again, he doesn’t show any reaction.

„White clothes, белый как снег?” (white as snow)

You put your hands on his knees and bent down, to whisper in his ear.

„I will fucking kill you”

A thin line closes around his throat and goes through, slowly cutting into his skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. After this, his head flies back, manicured fingers whirling around his hair, the little hairs on the back of his neck prickling. A groan escapes his dry lips, one that he doesn’t realize he’d been holding.

You drop the thin plastic line and place one nail under his chin, moving slowly, fascinated, nova-flare blue eyes blazing into your own.

„Will you talk now?“

he just sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

„Fuck…“

you whisper, a hint of exasperation and affront in your tone. You almost laugh, guilt twines with another failed attempt of getting any information out of him—you looks down at his trousers, then your eyes widen

„You are enjoying this”

In a full-fledged case of desire, Soldat is able to form both mental and physical representation of the thing he wants now and you don’t plan on initiating action to diminish his state.

Winter snorts at your words and looks at you with a smirk. He is obsessed with the situation, fascinated by you, infatuated with you. He hungers for your taste, your smell, the feel of your skin touching his. He is burning with desire, but keeps quiet about it—that’s his punishment he brings on himself, but there is no way he is begging his enemy—even in this state.

“Yes, I am” he says, with a venomous sneer “My eyes are up here, darling” he breathes.

That uncomfortable feeling is spreading over you as your eyes lift up to his lips, watching them part, taking deep breaths, the longing for him grows especially strong. You stand as though hesitating, suddenly the blood rushes to your head and sends a glow to your cheeks.

You are unable to endure his persistent stare, but you raise your downcast eyes and you finally smirk triumphantly at him as you struggle to breathe, suddenly straddling his thighs, loosening all of the ropes.

Winter watches with growing interest as you lean down, tucking a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.

Soldat’s eyes are the interpreter of the animal lust beneath, there is an unhealthy sallowness in the color of his orbits, he doesn’t even blink—his body is tense, a steel trap just waiting to be sprung open, but you don’t know that.

Your greedy lips are on his skin, devouring everything you can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back your throaty moans. You drag your lips up his throat, along his jaw, back toward his mouth.

Eyes meet again.

The smirk on his face has disappeared and leaves an intensity behind in his eyes, narrowing into a glare. He is a silent fury who no torment could tame—but the finest fury is the most controlled, there is a murderous look in his eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

you cry, face white and distorted, with a wan smile.

He laughs spitefully “It's either kiss you or kill you, that's how I see it”

His soul is overflowing but with mingled feelings, no single sensation stands out distinctly, but there is a need in his heart and his body. He grabs you by the hips and gets up with an unexpected growl. Sexual perversions mix with lust and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity, dropping you slowly on the cold floor.

The moment your feet touch the ground, you want to scream, but you are cut off with a rough kiss on your lips. He grinds his pelvis into you, so you can feel his hard length against your lower belly, and grips your ass through the flimsy pants.

“I will fuck you” he croons his plans into your ear, and then places a cold palm around your neck “But you need to beg me”

Dominance. Control.

Winter has lost control over everything, even the places in his head… it's paralyzing…of course he has an obsession about female obedience—his human fingers start teasing the crotch of your panties.

You gasp into his mouth, and the opening of your lips let his tongue slide through.

Your arms come up around his neck and he pulls you against him, hands flatten against your back…and you are up on the tips of your toes, kissing him as fiercely as he is kissing you.

He pulls away from you briefly to say gruffly “Come on, I want to hear it” his soul, overflowing with rapture, yearns for your pleas, skin, touch “I know you want me” he whispers with implicit faith in his words.

A whirl of the most fantastic notions takes possession of his brain when your eyes meet again—he clings to you more tightly, knotting his hands in your hair, wordlessy begging, hands sliding down to your waist.

He raises the metal hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers before the slightly damp digits are sliding into your panties and teasing your aroused folds and you exhale sharply, turning into a whining mewl as he circles your clit with ease.

“Say it”

he chuckles ruthlessly as the other hand bruises the skin on your waist, while his thumb circles down under your clit, closer to your entrance, fluids start to leak out. Your eyes meet again and something dangerous sparks, you suddenly feel your legs growing weak under you.

“Please-” you whisper, trembling with need and delight.

Winter almost stops when he hears you, his own breathing hitches a bit. He is watching you with an icy expression, voice falls to a whisper, as though he’s talking to himself

“Keep begging” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

“Please, don’t stop”

You shamelessly lift your leg up, placing it across his lower back and he swipes his thumb over your now throbbing clit before using two fingers to spread your lips apart. You never felt such stretching. It is cold and uncomfortable, but he forces his fingers inside as far as he can. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, your skin breaks out into a pale sweat as he eases into a slow rhythm, curling his fingers inside, fracking, until your body twitches and walls clench around his fingers.

“Need me more” He pistons in and out of you as you clench around his fingers “Beg me more”

Every synapse in your brain short out—the gut-wrenching terror you feel, with a balance of sweet pleasure slide into mindlessness—

“Please, I need more, I need you-” you are cut off with an involuntary moan of rapturous pleasure, you are so close.

Those who constantly hunger for control outside of self are undoubtedly starved for peace inside of self—it doesn’t fucking matter, does it?

You’re powerless, weightless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his gaze as he is staring at you, time stops. Those eyes are piercing yours, this is what makes you cum, he looks at you like he owns you.

The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, he rasps something in your ear as he mouths against the skin of your neck, but you are too lost to hear it.

You are pushed against the wall, he tilts his head back and lowers his lips to yours and they get bitten to the point of bleeding. Winter feels a metallic taste on his tongue as he pulls back to admire his work, licking his lips, smiling disgustingly.

The sharp taste of blood only whetting his appetite. Winter wraps long slender fingers, around your throat, squeezing slightly and the feeling is too cold for it to be a human hand. His mouth is so close to your ear it makes your hair stand on end as he presses his hips against you, licking along the shell of your ear.

It is arousing, but dangerous—very dangerous.

Your other hand trails down his abdomen to his belt, and a finger dips in before you retrieve it—teasing him, the other hand still rubbing small circles on the tip. He shifts closer so his hardness presses against your hand unwillingly to your plans.

His right hand digs fingers into the flesh of your waist, the grip turning bruising and hard as before—the metal one now resting on the wall close to your head—as a warning, a reminder of the power he holds.

„Don’t you dare stop“ he whispers, the bite of his threat lost somewhere in his need for you to touch.

You need moments to unbuckle his pants, and Winter continues to trail your skin with kisses and whines when a hand slides into his boxers, the other holding closely to take the large cock in your small hands, covering it as much as you can.

You look down at his slick cock and nearly gag at the idea of just having it in your mouth, you want to be on his knees for him.

Drops of pre-cum drop to the floor.

Winter clenches his metal fist, trying to resist the urge to moan loudly, closing his lips he inhales through his nose, face contorting with openly weeping pleasure. He groans in reply, unable to fight your gentle touch, trying to fuck himself against the grip of your hands, too small to cover his whole length, throbbing with delight of that thought, orgasm begins to creep up on him.

You can’t help, but hang your jaw in bewilderment at the sight before—he is falling apart from the need to come, all he can do is tighten the grip against your waist—to urge you to please him.

He lets a choked moan escape his lips as you start to move your hands up and down, languidly stroking at his cock—his metal fingers whirling naturally around your neck, squeezing, not enough to break it, whines and whimpers escaping him as if he has no control over them any longer.

You observe every reaction and sound with wide lips and sultry eyes—heavy breathing from both of you as the pleasure hadn’t stopped yet—mesmerized yet almost confused as you’d never seen a killer be so needy for an orgasm, but you don’t dare comment.

“Don’t slow down”

He breaths out, eyebrows furrowing, his eyes shut, only grunts fill the cold air.

He opens his eyes, glossy and unfocused, and his face is deeply flushed—he is faced with your eyes stained with tears as you struggle to breathe—you nearly lose consciousness, how fragile your body is and how strong his is.

He chuckles at the sight—lust twisting his features, the grip around your neck finally loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by erratic breathing.

He uses the moment to prise his tongue into your open mouth, forcing himself into you. You try to push and trash, but he holds you firm against the wall, his tongue sweeping over your lips, against your teeth, claiming you—leaking your tears.

Tasting the life he can easily take away from you.

You wiggles slightly, when he rips off your pants off, those piercing blue eyes trying to get a glimpse of your nakedness as his cock is still out, his fist tightening around the base, stroking slowly as his eyes drift south—dragging his metal finger slowly through your slit, the other hand once again moves on the waist in the same place—it hurts, bruises already forming from his tight hold.

It is obvious that Winter is not human, his body, his dick is too big to be human. You shiver at the sight of his length, hard and needy. His eyes are completely blue, with no pupil or white, two seas full of desire—he will drown you in them.

Soldat lifts your leg to gain a better angle to your hole. Your lips are slick and swollen, but the opening is stretching tight around his cock, trying to enter you completely, you cry out, your back arching at the pain. You freeze, blood running cold as he slaps you hard across the face.

The dark-haired man stares back with ill-concealed suspicion.

He is big, wide and fills you deliciously—every time you assume that he's fully sheathed, he pushes in a bit more and makes you moan loudly.

You buckle your hips as best you can despite his rough movements, meeting him thrust for thrust, desperate to feel him buried inside of you.

He is rough with you, not taking his time, not easing you into it.

“Please, slow down, it is too much-”

“Shut up and take it”

he trembles at the way you say beg, because of him, his mind was a blank canvas accosted by nothing—now, it is all about you, about pleasure.

And you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as if you are his prey. He thrust with force, you don’t even have time to adjust, he is too eager.

You moan both from pleasure and pain—It's so tight, squeezing the life out of his cock and he loves the idea of hurting you, it is too erotic not to think about it. He fucks you with lazy, slow thrusts, just enjoying the sensations of sex.

“You are taking me so good” he pants against your throat

he enjoys the suction feeling onto his cock, pummeling your cunt ruthlessly, hitting over the tender spot and you groan, loudly. Your throat feels raw from all the moans.

You exist there, whimpering, taking a fortifying breath, feeling the approach of your own orgasm, compressed by him as he ravages you, marks you.

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You immediately bite your lip, panting, stopping yourself from moaning more, but your spine bends back and your body stretches taut, insides clenching and spamming around his cock—the sound that escapes your lips is so unearthly that it drives him to the edge.

He slams into you as his cock explodes in an endless amount of cum, overflowing out of you, dripping on the floor. He groans as he continues to slam into you, even as you feel overly sensitive as your own orgasm reaches its peak.

He leans down, far enough that the dark ends of his hair brushes feather-light against your face, his metal hand is around your throat, squeezing tightly—you lose consciousness, thinking that he is killing you, but you just pass out.

Sex is another practiced art to him. Each move is calculated. His brain is programmed to perform, his body seducing his prey with ease, noting each response of his target.

Fear and seduction, repulsion and attraction—that's how corruption is spread, turning squalor and nastiness into thrill, seduces the target into his own web—and leaves with the corpse on his hands.

What a devilish creature, master of the art of Death and Seduction, all its nuance, all its depth and complexity—but he spared your life?

#okay but hear me out #winter soldier smut #winter soldier fic #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier fanfiction

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politicalprof · 3 months

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The Declaration of Independence

As I do every year, I am posting the entire text of the Declaration of Independence. It is flawed, inconsistently applied, and fascinating. It may be even more relevant this year than most. If you haven't ever read the whole thing, you should. It's worth the time:

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In Congress, July 4, 1776

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.

He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.

He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.

He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.

He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:

For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:

For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:

For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:

For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:

For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences

For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:

For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.

He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.

He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.

He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.

He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

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cripplecharacters · 3 months

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Hello! I want to write a horror book with characters that are not human but were a long time ago and now are something changed. What I want to do is explore themes of body horror, but what I do not want to do is be offensive or stereotypical towards physically disabled people. I have been doing some research and making sure the horror I am writing doesn’t have real world people it is affecting. (for example, characters with multiple eyes or arms or who have bare skeletons on their limbs) Do you have any tips to be non-offensive in my writing?

P.S. thank you! Your blog has been so helpful to me 💛

Hello beautiful asker!

We have a post on body horror right there! I would just do your research very thoroughly (read Sasza's part, he worded it much better than me). Characters transforming into something non-human is such a cool concept and cool to explore. And while this isn't our area, I would also research stuff like identity, race, body dysphoria, dysmorphia, Ethnicity, queerness, on their intersectionality with body horror, outside of disability and such. It's really interesting and it all intersects in such a fascinating way!

~ Mod Virus 🌸

Hi!

I think that as long as you're making sure you're not passing off symptoms of disabilities as said body horror, you're fine. If there's no connection between the two, then it won't be offensive to physically/visibly disabled people :-)

With that said, there's an incredible number of conditions that can be disabling (literally thousands). So to avoid including any of them as "body horror" or "gore" or what have you, you will need to do research.

There are disabilities that involve extra fingers (polydactyly), extra limbs (polymelia), extra eyes (diprosopus), and other things that involve what's widely considered "body horror" by the genre. Yes, they're very rare (except for polydactyly maybe) but they're still very much real; the Witches movie tried to pretend that limb difference was just some magical scary thing rather than an actually existing disability and it was horrible.

That doesn't mean you can't do it, just don't mimic it 1:1. Put the eyes on their neck, or make their fingers come out of their mouth, whatever. Things that don't happen to visibly disabled people, including the ones that die from complications of their disabilities - I think it's incredibly cruel for the horror genre to treat many of them as some sort of "evil creature inspo" because of severe congenital conditions.

That's just my view on it, I hope it makes sense. Good luck with your writing.

mod Sasza

#mod virus #mod sasza #body horror #fantasy species #fantasy setting #caffeinated-frog

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shakingparadigm · 4 months

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(this is copy-pasted from a ramble I had in sleepy's dms like months ago so please forgive the inconsistent grammar/punctuation etc!)

till's feelings are akin to an edelweiss, persevering despite the horrid conditions and all the forces that should have brought it down. it's around the same meaning as the clematis flower. both flowers are defined by their ability to bloom in harsh conditions, which mirror the behavior of loving and finding meaning within each other amidst an inhumane society. edelweiss are more associated with devotion though, and in My Clematis the clematis is seen as a source of hope and strength. mizisua and till to mizi are symbolized by flowers because they have (or, well, had) hope. their feelings bloomed as a result of an extremely human response to seeking some sense of companionship, connection, some belonging in such a strange and otherworldly civilization where it's incredibly easy to feel used and alone. which is why it interests me that even though he has this same desire, ivan's love is symbolized not by an earthy, organic piece of life, but by pieces of cosmos, falling stars. meteor showers are ivan's signature. (putting on my pretentious cap because once again I am going to apply meaning to something that probably isn't that deep)

Ivan is incapable (quite a strong word for it, but it's their words, not mine) of feeling proper human emotion, that much is stated in the patreon posts regarding his character. Why? I have no idea. I theorize it to be his harsh and ruthless upbringing that caused him to close himself off completely in order to protect himself. it started off very early too. or maybe ivan just had no concept of proper human emotion in general. I imagine that while he was growing up, there wasn't exactly any room for the humans he was surrounded with to exhibit any emotion lest they were targeted or punished somehow. Or maybe he was just born that way. anyway it's established that ivan is different from the other humans in this way, that's a similarity he shares with only one other character: Luka (Luka actually does have a stated reason as to why he seems so artificial however). It's why Ivan just goes limp in the grasp of the alien that held him over the edge, despite tears welling in his eyes he remains emotionally vacant and quiet. This moment is his first sight of the meteor shower. Ivan associates meteor showers with very significant experiences in his life (mainly near-death experiences according to the posts). Perhaps those meteor showers gave him some sort of relief, too, an escape from the hell he was living in. maybe he was just fascinated by them, the way they were so far beyond his reach yet burned so brilliantly. just like Till. he saw till's incredible resolve, his refusal to back down and remain passive. Ivan goes through the motions of his "life" doing whatever it is someone wants him to do. they want to sell him? okay. they want to throw him off a building? okay. sing this song, enter this competition, behave and pose for the picture. okay. But Till would rather be beat over and over again than to have his autonomy taken away. He doesn't even sing the songs he's assigned for the competition, he writes his own. His individuality is a blazing, passionate thing that's only bolstered by his natural talent. And to once again refer to the posts: Ivan is deeply fascinated by those who have qualities that he lacks. When he saw Till pick himself up off the ground, he saw stars in him. He saw the blazing fire, the brightness, the fascinating qualities that were far beyond his grasp, something he could only ever admire and hold onto in his hardest moments, but never to hold.

There's also the fact that meteor showers are fleeting. They're beautiful, ethereal spectacles, but they don't last. They're not meant to be held gently in your hands and cultivated like a flower. They appear in bursts of light and leave a lasting impression on whoever sees them, but eventually they disappear. Just like Till leaves Ivan behind, the palm of his hand disappearing from Ivan's grasp, his departure leaving a lasting impression. Ivan knows what they have together will not last, he knows Till's heart belongs elsewhere, yet he clings onto the imagery of the meteor shower because it's all he has. Even if Till doesn't love him back, he's the sole reason Ivan is able to feel to this extent at all. It's a blessing and a curse, so even if it hurts, Ivan continues to hold on. He even includes meteor showers during his performance in ROUND 3, sparkling gloves seemingly made of stardust reaching out to them as he desperately sings to his very own star. VIVINOS and QMENG said themselves that Ivan was persistent. He holds no anger towards Till's feelings for Mizi, he won't drive a wall between them because he respects Till's feelings and Mizi as a person, but he won't let go, either. Falling stars are fleeting, but the impact they leave behind? Not so fleeting at all. That feeling could last forever if it truly meant something to someone.

#god this is a bit dated #alnst #alien stage #alien stage ivan #alien stage till #ivantill

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not-too-many-eyes · 2 months

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Unexplainable Tragedies

(Also Known as: Reverse is a story about the apocalypse)

I always found the concept of The Storm fascinating. When I started playing Reverse I messaged a friend saying that I was really upset that I didn't think of it first since the concept of it is so interesting. A storm of time that (usually) brings the world back in time. It's such a compelling concept for a time travel story.

As a result, I've done a lot of thinking about it and it's place in the game's narrative. So, I have now decided to write this post so that I may articulate my opinions and feelings when it comes to it.

So, with that out of the way:

The Foundational Blocks of Society

Reverse depicts a world in which society is never safe. It's a world where at a single drop of rain the entire world as we know it can be destroyed and reverted back to a "backwards" version of it. Nothing is sacred because nothing ever stays minus a few pockets of the world that were lucky enough to be safe from it.

The Headquarters of St. Pavlov Foundation exists in of those pockets and it has existed even before The Storm. As a result it's a bastion of Pre-Storm Society. They are Worldwide and seek unite humans and arcanists so that they may return the world to it's "normal state" the one they used to exist in before. The one before all this tragedy occurred.

This, on it's surface, is an altruistic venture. But, considering the name of this place comes from Ivan Pavlov. The one who discovered Classical Conditioning. I think the intentions of these people should be questioned, just a tad.

The Foundation have consistently shown themselves as comprised of bad actors and feuding parties. Bigotry runs deeply in the Foundation's...foundations. Their modus operandi for "recruiting" Arcanists is to find the youngest ones who are disenfranchised and "teach" them what is proper in SPDM. Where they are taught the Foundation's ideology. That:

(Chapter 4 Part 2: Frog and Toffee)

Sonetto: We are born to die Martyrs

Later on, Matilda remarks that she was almost refused from the school because she's too old.

(Chapter 4 Part 10: O' Captain)

Matilda: My name is Matilda Bouanich! I am the most senior transfer student in the school- in fact, I was too senior to be taken in, if nor for that special approval. That is to say. I remember the outside world a lot more than you do...

She remembers things that she shouldn't.

Outside of this. Arcanists from the outside world who know the Foundation are critical of them. A lot of the ones we've seen like Regulus and Kakania don't want anything to do with them, and the ones inside have...mixed feelings on them as a whole.

Ms. Mossian: Although the Foundation is well-known for their effective ways of teaching, they always overlooked each student's character and personality. Hmm… I find their teaching philosophy difficult to comment on.

Even Sonetto and Mesmer Jr, some of the most ardent members of the Foundation have Undoubtedly been negatively affected by them. With Sonetto always wanting for freedom, and Mesmer Jr having and being on the verge of a mental breakdown every second of the day.

The world The Foundation creates isn't a just one. But this was Always part of it's institution. It's premise of wanting to unite humans and arcanists has Always had the asterisk that says "as long as we humans rule"

(Revival! The Uluru Games, Part 10: Let's Play House)

Spathodea: Make life better? Get out! You think I never saw the ad of Laplace? Spathodea: "Guide arcanum with science, tame the orderless power with sense." That's what you tell the people!

This isn't a new change. It wants to return the world to how it was before, and the world of 1999 doesn't seem to have been in the hands of arcanists.

They justify themselves, say that arcanists are inherently more emotional and that's why they Must exist. Without them the world would be out of control.

But, frankly, this is a bold fucking thing to say from a Institution who's vice president has beef with a teenager.

Humans cannot claim to be reasonable compared to the "irrational" arcanists when so much of this game showcases human irrationality. Even before the Storm people were competing to make it big in the stock market. Even before the Storm people burned witches and panicked in the streets over Y2K.

As much as arcanists perceive and understand the world differently, any existing evidence in perception or emotion sensitivity is greatly exaggerated to fit the narrative that The Foundation (that Humans) Must Exist to control them.

Greta Hofmann says it best in this chapter.

(Chapter 6 Part 15: With Hope Rekindled)

Hofmann: We have all heard it, humans are more rational and arcanists are more emotional. Hofmann: Their sensitive to the darkness of the world, so they can easily become absorbed in their own emotions and ignore reality Hofmann: But, if we put a human child in the position of an arcanist, who always takes on the world because of his uniqueness, who is never understood for his talents... Hoffmann: Maybe he too will become impulsive, sensitive immature and unstable Hoffmann: And that's why it sometimes dwans on me that if we put an arcanist child in the position of a human being who receives enough love, education, and positive feedback... Hoffmann: These 'instabilities' might be controllable. At least enough to keep them from hurting themselves or others.

This the world the Foundation wants to return to,the one unaffected by the changes that The Storm brought. The one where humans and arcanists were together but we all knew who was Really in charge.

"This the true path to the future!" They say. "We just need to return to the past. The beautiful past that was taken away from us!"

However, The Foundation isn't the only organization in this game.

The Rapture.

The Manus Vindictae are the arcanist parallel to The Foundation. A group of arcanists dedicated to arcanist supremacy in the same way The Foundation is dedicated to human supremacy. They believe that the Storm is actually a cleansing of impurity. Eliminating the bad habits of that era.

The also believe in The Guiding One/Arcana, and that arcanists are the ones Chosen to lead the world into a brighter era and leave this world of humans behind. The chosen ones of the new civilization that will bring everything to a new era of peace, they just need to go far back enough in time until:

(Chapter 1, Part 14: The Eye of The Storm)

Vertin: Which past do you want to return to? Fifty years ago? A century ago? Or... Forget Me Not: The past with the right order, of course

Of course this is rather...unethical, to say the least. However, this is not unique to the Manus in the slightest.

Again, The Foundation wants to return to the past before the Storm, and Matilda was almost refused from the school for the crime of being older than they would have liked her to be.

As the arks of the Foundation become more filled, less people are allowed to enter, and a lot are refused entry due to similar unethical reasoning,

(Chapter 4, Part 18: Road of a Puppy)

Sonetto: Schneider...a friend we met in Chicago Sonetto: She once chose to join The Foundation under the pressure of both the "Storm" and Manus Vindictae. Sonetto: But instead of offering any solution or help, you just gave her a rejection letter. Sonetto: I found this letter in her suit pocket. Sonetto: It had a small line written on it, "Paupers fuck off" (...) Sonetto: I do not understand...why there was such wording on it. Sonetto: Was it because she did not pay enough "shelter fee" to qualify for sheltering? Sonetto: Or was it because the wand she used was transformed by arcanum, which made you think she was an arcanist?

Really, the Manus are just more "honest" about their intentions. There's not much to discuss when there so open about it.

Still, there's a sort of, religious leaning to the way the Manus and it's affiliates talk. The idea that it's a trial, the idea that this is salvation, the idea that they are the ones chosen.

When the Y2K bug was something people were panicking about there was an expectation for it to be an Apocalyptic Event. Religious groups and similar organizations were all about being the ones chosen.

What the Manus exhbits here is it's own form of rationalization, which is funny considering how much they insistent that rational is a human thing.

If a tragedy occurs, then it's a tragedy in the favor of your organization. You will be rid of a world where cruel things happen and be brought up to one where your holiness will be confirmed and you will be happy forever as everyone who has ever committed evil rots below you.

It's a joke to think The Storm cares though.

The Pre/Post-Apocalypse

Something I've been leaving out about The Storm until now is that we do know Why it starts.

It starts due to:

Vertin: Community conflicts, turbulent history, new technology...all of these may lead to the "Storm."

Y2K, The Great Depression, World War 1. All important moments where time reversed, and all events that caused fear, panic and instability in the world.

Y2K isn't even disastrous, nothing actually apocalyptic Happened at the turn of the millennium. But it was such a terrifying concept it made the world go backwards before it could continue. We never see the after of these events, only the start. The panic is enough for a Storm to be caused.

It's a joke to think the Storm cares because the Storm isn't a person. It's an event, a tragedy, a change in the world. A moment in time that consumes anything that's within it's radius. Trying to explain it through something inherent is silly. Arcanists may be able to see through it but they still get consumed by it all the same.

You can formulate theories, maybe even pin down exactly what caused it, but that doesn't change what it did. The characters have been living in the moments before an apocalypse and the moments after one for ages now. You can't bring the world back to how it was before because that world simply doesn't exist anymore.

The Manus may accelerate it but really if it wasn't them it was going to be someone else. You can't keep everything in static normalcy forever. Especially a normal that's so cruel to people. Eventually someone is going to say that this sucks and try to change it, for good or for ill.

But, the beautiful past where nothing was wrong also Doesn't Exist. It's a fiction. But it's one that's easier to believe in than the future full of tragedy and suffering.

(Chapter 6, Part 20: War and Peace)

Isolde: Heads full of holes! Heads covered in shrapnel! Empty Stomachs! Even the ghosts of little children...I can see them all! Cities bombed to the ground, and trains full of people headed straight to death! Isolde: It is coming! IT IS COMING! By then, the guts hanging from the trees will be more vibrant than spring flowers. There will be bullets, helmets, gauze! Hahaha! Isolde: We have no future, doctor!

Everyone in Reverse is marked by that existential terror in a way. That the world is ending, that the world is going to end, that the world has already ended and they just have to pick up the pieces. That nothing really matters because nothing is permanent and nothing can be truly understood.

The Foundation and The Manus believe that:

Sonetto: As the instructors have told us, to live is to lose things around us until the day we lose life itself to death. That's why we should only focus on the supreme missions.

And, if they are right, if to live is to lose things around us. What Should we do? Do we do as they say and focus only on things larger than us? Survive the Storm by detaching ourselves from the world around us?

...

I'll let the end of Chapter 2 present my counter-argument for me.

#reverse 1999 #r1999 #metaposting #I did not know how to end this and it shows but its FINE I will LIVE #I am a TUMBLR USER not a PHILOSOPHER

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thedemonofcat · 4 months

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I am interested in a comprehensive list of all the different names Jaskier is given in various translations. It would be fascinating to explore the meanings behind each name and any symbolism they might carry. I plan to group together languages that use the same name for him.

Jaskier: His name resonates universally, transcending languages and cultures. In Polish, French, Portuguese, Romanian, Bulgarian, Russian, and Spanish, Jaskier translates to Buttercup. These small yellow flowers symbolize joy and happiness, evoking images of carefree days and childlike wonder. They also represent youth and innocence, which aligns with theories about Jaskier's non-human origins. Another significant symbolism of buttercups is their friendship connection, fitting perfectly with Jaskier's close bond with Geralt. Historically, buttercups were used in folk medicine, symbolizing healing and protection, despite their toxicity and the need for careful handling.

Dandelion: Known from the English, Hungarian, Italian, Japanese, Belarusian, and Turkish translations. Perhaps the most familiar name, Dandelion, typically appears in two forms: small white, fluffy flowers that can be blown away by the wind and bright yellow blooms. Dandelions symbolize resilience, thriving in challenging conditions and growing almost anywhere, symbolizing perseverance, strength, and the ability to overcome obstacles. Historically used in medicine, dandelions are associated with healing and survival. They also symbolize a connection to nature and freedom, perfectly reflecting the bard’s character. Some Native American tribes view the dandelion as a sun symbol, representing warmth, growth, and the sustaining force of life. This connection to nature and resilience mirrors Jaskier’s character, who, despite facing many challenges, remains resilient and deeply connected to the natural world.

Marigold: Used in Czech and Serbian translations, this name is perhaps the most unusual since there is already a character named Marigold in the series. Nonetheless, marigolds symbolize brightness and positivity. With their vibrant yellow and orange hues, marigolds represent warmth, cheerfulness, and the light of life. This fits well with a bard’s role, as marigolds also symbolize creativity. In Mexican culture, marigolds are central to Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebrations, symbolizing the connection between the living and the dead. In Indian culture, marigolds are used in religious rituals and weddings, symbolizing love, devotion, and the divine. They are often offered to gods and goddesses as a sign of reverence and respect.

Ranonkel: From Dutch, though translated to Ranunculus, which are buttercups. I'd like to discuss the story from Greek mythology that relates to Ranunculus, as it aligns with Jaskier's character. Ranunculus was a handsome and talented young man known for his beautiful singing voice, captivating everyone who heard him. However, he was also vain and self-centred, revelling in the admiration he received. One day, while performing in a meadow, Ranunculus encountered a group of wood nymphs (dryads). Enchanted by his voice and appearance, the nymphs stopped to listen. Despite their admiration, Ranunculus ignored them, focusing solely on his performance and delighting in his own voice. Pan, the god associated with rustic wilderness and nymphs, observed Ranunculus's vanity. To teach him a lesson, Pan intervened. He transformed Ranunculus into a delicate, beautiful flower that would forever bloom in meadows and fields—the Ranunculus flower. This mythological tale is an intriguing parallel to Jaskier's character and could potentially inspire a fanfiction story in the future.

Valvatti from Finnish. Valvatti, which, from what I can tell, translates to Sow Thistle, can symbolize resilience but can also symbolize unseen beauty. Despite being considered a weed, sow thistle produces small, yellow flowers that symbolize hidden beauty or overlooked potential. This can remind you to look beyond outward appearances and appreciate hidden qualities.

Rittersporn German. Otherwise known as Larkspurs, they can symbolize openness and lightness with their vibrant colours. They can also be used as symbols for thickness and are connected to strong bonds of love. Some cultures believe that larkspurs offer protection against negative energies or bad luck. Placing them in a garden or a bouquet is thought to bring positivity and ward off evil spirits.

Vėdrynas is From Lithuanian. Breaking from the flowers, Vedryans translates to Lark, which can be seen as the bringers of dawn and the start of a new day. Larks are symbols of songs and music, which goes great with a Bard. Larks are agile birds that soar high in the sky, symbolizing freedom, independence, and the ability to rise above challenges or limitations.

Blyskáč is from Czech. It translates to "sparkler" or "firecracker" in English. Once again, breaking from the typical flower names, blyskac can symbolize celebration. The firecrackers' brightness and sparkle evoke joy, optimism, and positivity. They are often associated with bringing good luck and warding off evil spirits in various cultural traditions. Firecrackers and sparklers burn brightly but quickly fade away. They symbolize the fleeting nature of moments and encourage living in the present and appreciating life's transient beauty.

These are all the names I could find. If I missed any or made any translation errors, please feel free to let me know.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #joey batey #geralt of rivia #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra

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t3a-tan · 2 months

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Ryker's Guilt

Ryker is just a man trying to bring change, even if that means being a bad person. Here's what happened with Sammy and Tanner but from his perspective! Enjoy ^^

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Ryker really hadn't meant for this to happen. When he had been told that Cody's mortal child was on Earth he had expected a human. When the people he sent to retrieve her came back with three tiny people he wasn't sure how to react. This was not ideal given his plans, but when the man he hired offered to kill the two tiny children he instinctively decided to keep them.

For the first few days he wasn't sure how to go about things. Ryker knew he was not a good person— it was his burden to bear, and after doing so many heinous things for his research in the hopes that maybe he could make a breakthrough that would stop this damn war he had become numb to it.

He left the children alone, focusing on the target instead; Charlie. First things first he would need to train her so her body was in the right condition. Fighting was the first thing that came to mind… but he wasn't sure what he could make the tiny woman fight exactly.

After some research he found that there were borrower fighting events on the darker parts of the internet, and he decided to meet with one of the men behind the whole event to find out some more information.

Everything went downhill from there.

Whilst the man was inspecting the borrower woman, his guard dog suddenly jumped up and snatched her from his hands. Ryker was taken aback by the sudden attack, leaping to a stand only for it to register what was happening when small screams reached his ears. The man who had been holding Charlie simply chuckled in amusement, remarking something about his dog being hungry. Ryker sensed that it was supposed to be a joke and he felt sick.

“Drop it, boy!” The man commanded and the dog refused, growling and shaking the woman's body again. Ryker could see immediately that he could do nothing to save her in this state. She was dead. Just like that. “Sorry about that… hey uhh— how about I pay you a thousand to make up for the destruction of property and we leave it there?”

Ryker felt his anger boiling over as the incident was dismissed so easily, seething.

“If you cannot control that damned animal then don't have it out in the first place! I thought this was supposed to be professional!” He yelled, grabbing the cage that the kids were in and preparing to leave. Oh god. They saw that… they heard it. What am I doing?

“Woah. Chill out, fuck’s sake… She was older merchandise anyway, she wouldn't have been worth anything. I'd take the thousand if I were you.” He responded defensively, as if a person hadn't just died in such a cruel manner. Ryker felt an overwhelming urge to punch him in the face, but he held back, instead just shaking his head and turning to the exit.

He quickly returned back to his lab, placing the cage down and staring at it for a while, thinking.

Now that Charlie's dead, there is no longer a reason to continue. But I can't just…stop. Because of me these children are orphans. He stood up, pacing around the room as he tried to think it all over. If I stop without actually getting any results, their deaths will have been completely needless. I have to continue.

It took weeks for him to fully commit to that decision and in the meantime he was very quiet whenever he would approach the borrower children. He had bought some chocolates and cookies and other things children liked during that time, hoping it would make them just a little less afraid. And they deserved something nice to eat after what they had been put through. By me.

Sammy was incredibly feisty with him, never letting go of her younger brother. Yet, Ryker knew for a fact that he had heard her crying most nights and the unsteadiness she held herself with was developed by fear. He found her bravery fascinating considering how small she was.

On the other hand, Tanner was much more openly timid. He had a quiet demeanour but his eyes were so observant. He could see how conflicted the young boy was over the situation; happily receiving sweets only to scramble back if Ryker's hand was the thing handing it over.

He hated this. Gods he wished he had never started researching magic in the first place. He wished he had died in the bombings like the rest of his kind. But at this point he had gone too far to stop— he had caused too much suffering and all he wanted was for it to be worth something.

He hoped that Charlie's adaptation to magic had been passed down to her kids somehow and continued his work. He went to another fighting event organiser and spoke to them, this time making sure there were no dogs present. Tanner was simply too young to participate in anything like that, but Sammy was just old enough.

He signed a contract wherein he would be paid and Sammy would be handed off to the organiser every week after she was deemed ready to participate in fights.

Ryker started her off small, bringing in bugs and forcing them to fight. If he thought she was in danger of suffering permanent damage or dying he would remove her from the glass enclosure and put her back in the following day. At times he wanted to comfort her but what was the point in pretending to be a good person? It was better if they both hated him.

Once Sammy was regularly able to kill whatever bugs he put her with, he moved on to slightly bigger things; mice and rats and lizards. She improved with incredible speed, and although she had at first seemed terrified during fights now that it had become routine she just looked determined.

After she had killed whatever it was that Ryker had paired her with that day she would look up at him with a deathly glare, catching her breath. He would simply stare back at her, wondering what she was thinking. Perhaps she was imagining him on the other end of the needle instead of a rat. Sometimes he would imagine the same thing.

Eventually he handed her off to Joseph Wells, the organiser he signed a contract with. Ryker would attend Sammy's fights and watch, disturbed at the way the other spectators looked on with gleeful and amused expressions. He would keep a calm and unaffected frown on his face, arms crossed in contemplation.

When the Kriegerin project was still running many many years ago Ryker used to watch those fights. They were violent and full of death…but it was not for entertainment. It was a necessary evil that Ryker had never claimed to enjoy.

Now, sitting amongst the crowd of humans, Ryker felt anger growing inside of him; resentment. But this was needed for Sammy to be strong enough— if she could not fight well then there would be no point in giving the serum to her. Giving someone magic without ensuring that they would be capable of using it was useless.

In the meantime, Ryker pondered on what to do with Tanner. He wasn't a good candidate for magic as far as he could tell; much too soft. And it would take years before the proper preparations could be made anyway. But could he just treat him nicely?

No. Of course not.

If he started to treat Tanner with kindness whilst putting Sammy through the fighting and humiliation he had signed her up for, that would cause a wedge in their relationship. It was better for them both to hate him than for them to hate each other, and as bad as he felt for doing it he kept reminding himself of how far he was.

There were many times where he considered stopping altogether. Sometimes Tanner would end up falling asleep in his hand whilst he was scribbling down notes and Ryker could feel the guilt overwhelming him all over again. Sometimes he would stare at the pistol in his drawer and consider using it…but it felt selfish to give himself a way out like that.

He felt so frustrated with himself that sometimes it would end up being directed at the children. He felt bad every time he snapped— he would never yell at them but sometimes he was surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. He had never hurt them either. Even if he didn't want them to like him, the thought of doing something like that intentionally made him sick to his stomach.

Sammy had become well known within borrower fighting events, but she had also become more withdrawn. She was as feisty as ever; loud and abrasive towards him for understandable reasons, but Ryker had noticed a shift when he had started to leave her with Wells for longer in between events.

He asked the organiser if something had happened and got a no in response, so he let it be. Almost two years passed before he finally found out the truth.

Sammy had suddenly broken down when Ryker held her down on the desk to take her measurements again. He would measure both of them regularly, but this time was different. She wasn't fighting him in defiance like usual, this time she seemed desperate. Ryker was so taken aback that he released her immediately, watching as a panic attack claimed her.

Once she was breathing properly again, Ryker spoke.

“What happened? Are you injured?” The only thing different from him taking the measurements this time than what he usually did was that he was doing it the day after he retrieved her from Wells. She hadn't ended up participating in a fight this time so he saw no issue with it, but the only idea he had for what might be wrong is that she had been hurt and he had accidentally pressed down on an injury.

As his hands moved in to check her over he saw how she flinched away, defending herself rather than fighting back like she usually would. Ryker stopped again but his brows furrowed as he leaned down.

“Tell me. Now.” He ordered. He couldn't just sit around guessing— if something unexpected had happened he needed to deal with it immediately. If Sammy was injured he needed to treat it immediately. He didn't have time for the cat and mouse act.

She was hesitant as she recounted her experiences at the hands of Wells, and others. Ryker felt like he was in shock hearing about it— his hands withdrawing away from her immediately.

“For how long?”

Almost the whole time. Basically as soon as Ryker had been leaving her alone with the disgusting human.

“T-they said they liked my hair… I hate it now… Sometimes I just want to rip it all out…” She murmured. That was enough. This was too much. He didn't even know how to offer comfort because it was his fault in the first place. She even seemed surprised by his shock, like she thought he knew about it from the start.

That night Ryker went to Wells again; this time with a pistol tucked into his jacket. He didn't say a word when he shot him, simply making sure he was dead by making sure there were no bullets left in the chamber. He vented his anger by kicking and throwing some of his furniture around, then broke down himself.

The next day, Ryker took Sammy to the metal desk. She predictably tried to get away and he sighed, slamming his hand down in her path to throw her off before reaching down to hold her between his forefinger and thumb.

“Stop moving…”

He pinched his fingers around her waist to keep her still and pulled out a pocket knife. At first she struggled, startled by the large blade as he brought it closer, seemingly thinking he was going to stab her.

“Shh. It's for your hair.” He didn't bring it any closer yet, waiting for her to stop squirming so he wouldn't accidentally cut her. He paused for a moment, thinking. “Do you…want me to cut it? If you don't, I won't.”

It was one of the first times he had ever asked for permission, but in this situation he felt it was appropriate. Sammy slowly stopped struggling, peering up at him with confusion. Ryker was frowning but he looked sincere…so she nodded.

He brought the knife closer, slowly, before carefully cutting at the tiny girl's hair. He wasn't a professional by any means and it looked messy, but he tried to keep it even. Once he was done he put her back and left both borrowers alone, only getting close when he was giving them food or water.

It was quiet again. Just like when Charlie died. Ryker could feel his motivation to continue dwindling with each passing day. When Tanner managed to escape and ended up being exposed to the serum Ryker could do nothing about it besides keep Sammy from seeing. With Tanner gone Sammy had become depressed and unresponsive.

After a month of this, Ryker decided to give Sammy the serum. Because of all the training then it should hopefully be compatible rather than doing what it did to Tanner. Ryker didn't even know for certain what had happened to him, just that his body had started to glitch and destabilise, before disappearing entirely.

He was wrong. The same thing happened to Sammy. Somehow the glitches didn't spread over her whole body, but instead it was her left arm that was affected. It wasn't bleeding, but it was no longer there. That was his final straw.

Ryker managed to make a tiny bionic limb to replace the arm that was lost, and although he noticed Sammy had some physical changes after being exposed to the serum; her eyes changing colour and her hair starting to grow in a much lighter colour; he saw no signs of her being able to use magic. It had all been for nothing.

He apologised over and over again despite knowing he could not be forgiven. He destroyed his notes and burned his research in frustration, not knowing what to do now that he was giving up. There was no reason to make Sammy hate him anymore, but there was also no reason for her to not hate him. Where else could she go though?

Because of him she was alone.

When she escaped, Ryker searched everywhere for her, worried that she would get hurt out there. He had seen just how disgusting humans could be— and what if one found her? She hated him, yes, but ultimately she would be safer with him. He wouldn't keep her in a cage or anything anymore, he just wanted to do something to make up for everything he had done.

There was no trace of Sammy anywhere.

Ryker was alone again.

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #g/t writer #g/t #borrowers #giant/tiny #g/t fearplay #g/t art #g/t writing #g/t angst #giant/tiny writing #giant/tiny art

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anna-the-undertaker · 1 month

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Hi Anna! I always love to read all of your writing because it's so interesting and amazing! especially "Rebirth" is one of my favorites, I like how you explained the environment and relationships with 7 demons that affected the MCs' bodies and changed their bodies or DNA to survive in the environment they live in. And I LOVE that you brought up Nephilim for your MCs. (I wanted to read about Nephilim for a long time🫠) so what I want to ask is if MCs bodies were fully evolved, with both angel and human blood and a pact with demons, would they have enough power to become a Chimera with a body similar to falin from (Dungeon Meshi) and with such great power, would they be able to maintain their sanity and have full control over their power? *I'm really sorry if my question is too long or some words may be wrong* I would love to see you write about this, but if you're not comfortable, that's okay🥹 I wish you good health, both physically and mentally, and get enough rest❤️

Hi! Thank you so much! I'm so happy you have enjoyed my writing. I am seriously psyched to write for this. As I am sure you noticed, I love science/biology/theoretical topics. Especially when combined with fantastical worlds like in Obey Me. Using the topic of human evolution and the influence a demonic and angelic presence would have on MC is just so much fun. This turned into more of an essay or rather a theoretical explanation so if you would like me to turn this into a fic like Rebirth please let me know :) And I wish all the same to you as well.

In the world of Obey Me!, MC's unique heritage as a descendant of Lilith—a former angel reborn as a human—offers a fascinating avenue to explore the intersection of angelic, human, and demonic biology. By integrating the supernatural and evolutionary principles, we can hypothesize the possibility of MC evolving into a Chimera-like being, similar to Falin from Dungeon Meshi, while considering the implications on their sanity and control over their newfound powers.

The Biological and Supernatural Foundation:

Human Evolution and Supernatural Influence Human evolution is defined by adaptability, which has allowed Homo sapiens to survive and thrive under diverse conditions. When considering MC, we must explore how the blending of human, angelic, and demonic elements could influence this adaptability. The human body, already highly malleable in response to environmental stressors, would be the perfect vessel for such an extraordinary transformation, especially if influenced by supernatural forces.

The key lies in the concept of atavism, where ancestral traits resurface due to dormant genes being reactivated. If we accept that some of Lilith’s angelic qualities were passed down genetically, then MC might possess latent angelic traits that could be triggered by their pact with demons, catalyzing a profound physical and metaphysical evolution.

Angelic and Demonic Biology Angelic biology, in this universe, is marked by purity, resilience, and a high affinity for light-based energies. Angels are beings of order and harmony, with their power fundamentally tied to divine will and cosmic balance. Demons, conversely, embody chaos, power, and a deep connection to darker energies. Their biology is designed for survival in hostile environments, and their power is linked to the seven deadly sins, each representing a fundamental aspect of their existence.

MC’s body, already an amalgamation of human and angelic traits, would undergo radical changes when exposed to demonic energy through their pacts. The combination of demonic chaos and angelic order within a human framework could lead to the emergence of a Chimera-like form—one that is not purely one thing or another but an amalgamation of all three.

The Evolution into a Chimera:

Physical Transformation MC’s transformation into a Chimera-like being would likely involve the activation of latent angelic genes combined with the influence of demonic power. This transformation would resemble a form that balances the traits of all three ancestries. Drawing from Dungeon Meshi’s Falin, whose body integrates features of multiple species, MC might develop a form that is both majestic and terrifying—an angelic aura fused with demonic strength and human adaptability.

The physical manifestation could include angelic wings, demonic horns, and a humanoid frame capable of withstanding extreme conditions. The human body’s adaptability would allow for the integration of these features without rejection, with the newfound form being a harmonious blend rather than a patchwork of mismatched parts.

Supernatural Abilities This new form would grant MC a host of abilities: enhanced strength and speed, unparalleled healing, and the ability to wield both light and dark magic with equal proficiency. The angelic heritage might grant powers of purification and protection, while the demonic influence could bestow abilities of destruction and domination. The human element would serve as the bridge, allowing MC to use their powers with a degree of versatility that neither angels nor demons possess.

The Psychological Implications:

Maintaining Sanity The question of whether MC could maintain their sanity hinges on the psychological stress of embodying such divergent forces. The human psyche, while resilient, is vulnerable to fragmentation when exposed to conflicting influences. Here, the role of MC’s human consciousness becomes crucial. Their connection to Lilith—a being who experienced both angelic and human life—may provide a stabilizing influence, enabling them to reconcile the chaotic nature of their powers.

Control Over Power To control such immense power, MC would need to integrate the disparate parts of their nature into a coherent identity. This might involve a deep psychological struggle, as the angelic and demonic aspects vie for dominance. However, if MC can achieve a balance—accepting both the light and dark within them—they could emerge as a being of unparalleled strength and wisdom. This synthesis of power could lead to a state of transcendence, where MC is no longer bound by the limitations of any single nature but instead exists as a new, hybrid entity with full control over their abilities.

The Role of Lilith’s Legacy:

Lilith’s angelic qualities, passed down through her bloodline, would serve as the foundation for MC’s transformation. Her resilience, compassion, and defiance against divine authority could manifest in MC as an indomitable will, allowing them to harness their powers without losing themselves. The presence of these traits suggests that Lilith’s influence has been subtly shaping MC’s evolution all along, preparing them for this moment of transformation.

If MC's body and mind could not adapt to their new Chimera-like form, the consequences would be catastrophic—both psychologically and physically. The delicate balance between their angelic, human, and demonic traits would unravel, leading to a terrifying descent into madness and a grotesque transformation that could make them a monster far worse than the demons themselves.

Psychological Descent into Madness:

The first sign of MC's inability to adapt would manifest in their psyche. The human mind, even one strengthened by supernatural resilience, is not designed to handle the constant clash of divine order and demonic chaos. The angelic part of MC would seek harmony, while the demonic influence would fuel destructive impulses. Trapped between these opposing forces, MC's consciousness would begin to fracture, leading to severe cognitive dissonance. They would experience horrifying hallucinations, hearing the voices of angels and demons screaming in their head, each demanding dominance.

As the pressure mounts, MC would lose their sense of self. The once clear boundaries between their human emotions, angelic virtues, and demonic urges would blur, leaving them in a state of perpetual confusion and torment. Their mind, overwhelmed by the conflicting energies, would spiral into insanity. Rational thought would give way to primal instincts, and MC would become increasingly erratic, lashing out in uncontrollable fits of rage and despair.

Physical Deterioration and Transformation

The failure to adapt would also trigger a nightmarish transformation in MC's body. The once harmonious blend of angelic, demonic, and human traits would turn into a grotesque amalgamation, as their body tries and fails to reconcile these conflicting energies.

Skin and Flesh MC's skin would begin to tear and split at the seams, unable to contain the volatile mix of divine and infernal energy. The angelic light within them would sear their flesh from the inside, while the demonic darkness would corrode it from without. Their skin would blister and crack, revealing raw, pulsating muscle beneath, with patches of radiant white light and inky blackness fighting for dominance. The resulting form would be a horrifying patchwork of angelic brilliance and demonic decay, neither fully one nor the other.

Limbs and Appendages Their limbs would elongate and contort in unnatural ways, as their body struggles to accommodate the conflicting energies. Angelic wings, meant to be symbols of purity and grace, would become twisted and malformed, with feathers falling out in clumps, leaving behind skeletal remains dripping with blood and ichor. Their hands and feet would morph into grotesque claws, sharp and jagged, as the demonic influence asserts itself. These claws would be capable of rending flesh and bone with terrifying ease, a testament to the destructive power coursing through their veins.

Eyes and Face MC’s eyes would change as well, losing any semblance of humanity. One eye might glow with an ethereal, almost blinding light, while the other would burn with a hellish fire, each representing the warring forces within them. Their gaze would become wild and unfocused, filled with a maddening mix of fear, rage, and despair. Their face, once familiar, would warp into something monstrous, with sharp, predatory features emerging as their demonic nature gains ground. Their mouth might elongate, teeth sharpening into fangs meant for tearing flesh, while their voice would become a distorted, guttural growl.

Becoming a Monster Worse Than Demons

With their mind shattered and their body twisted, MC would no longer be recognizable as the person they once were. The final stage of their transformation would be the loss of all human reasoning and morality. They would become a true abomination, a creature driven only by base instincts—hunger, rage, and a need to destroy. Their angelic and demonic traits would no longer be in conflict but would instead fuel a terrifying synergy, creating a being that is both holy and profane, yet utterly devoid of compassion or mercy.

This Chimera-like creature would surpass even the worst of demons in its monstrosity. Where demons are creatures of sin, motivated by vice, this new form would be a vessel of pure, unrestrained chaos. It would hunt and kill indiscriminately, driven by a need to satisfy the conflicting energies within it. The creature would feed on the life force of others, both to sustain itself and to ease the constant agony of its existence.

The Aftermath

The longer MC remained in this monstrous form, the more their body would deteriorate. The conflicting energies would continue to tear them apart from within, causing their flesh to rot and fall away, only to regenerate in a never-ending cycle of decay and renewal. Their body would become a grotesque shell, a prison for their fractured mind, with nothing left of the person they once were.

In the end, this monstrous being would be an embodiment of despair and suffering, a tragic testament to what happens when the balance between light and dark is lost. A creature of nightmares, worse than any demon, and beyond redemption.

In this state, MC would be feared by angels, demons, and humans alike, a cautionary tale of the dangers inherent in wielding power beyond one’s control.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me theory

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deerspherestudios · 1 year

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Hey! I just recently met and went through the demo of "Mushroom Oasis", and I already have so many questions! I hope I won't be too intrusive. You may not answer some questions if the answers contain spoilers.

Questions about the game: 1.Will it be possible to choose the MC gender? Is it possible to choose the gender of the cat in the same way? It's just that when I started the game, I named the cat after my cat and it was a little funny to me when the pronoun of the cat was "she" when my cat is male.

Will we be able to choose some kind of "style" for the MC, according to the type of clothing, at the beginning of the game?

Questions about Michael:

Does he see the world like an ordinary person? I mean he has 2 pairs of eyes and 3 pairs of pupils. And it baffles me.

If the MC suddenly goes out alone and doesn't come back by midnight, will Mychael worry about the MC and will he go looking for the MC?

How does Mychael feel about piercings and tattoos? Does he know about it? If so, would he like a piercing/tattoo?

I wonder where Mychael gets things for the house. That is, I saw that he had a broom, thread and knitting needles. Where did he get them???

If Mychael saw me (I'm 164 cm tall and I have red hair), would he think I'm some kind of witch, because of the color of my hair, or something like that? How would he react if he saw me?

And sorry for the mistakes, I used google translator. English is not my native language :( I also want to say that I am your fan from Latvia (I don’t know why I’m saying this, I just want to please you with the fact that you have a fan from the Baltic countries)

Oop!! Ty for the questions!! Let me try and answer em under the cut, since it might end up as a pretty long post hahaha. But hi hello!!! I'm always happy to know where my fans come from, it's always a surprise for me to see people around the globe enjoy my silly little game ;v;

Questions about the game:

1. Will it be possible to choose the MC gender? Is it possible to choose the gender of the cat in the same way?

Being nonbinary, I just choose not to mention pronouns when writing for the game, so anyone can fit in their shoes. Unless it comes to a point where I have to use it, I'll probably code in a pronoun tool but for now it doesn't seem necessary! As for the cat, that's a good suggestion. Perhaps I'll try coding it in for the next update so the cat can be male or female, according to player preference!

2. Will we be able to choose some kind of "style" for the MC, according to the type of clothing, at the beginning of the game?

Probably not, as I'm not really good at setting that up in Ren'Py. I did make an MC design though! But what they look like is entirely up to you. I've drawn a POV shot of them wearing jeans and sneakers but that's about it. They can look however you like!

Questions about Mychael:

1. Does he see the world like an ordinary person?

He does! Trigger warning for unsettling iris images if you wanna look this up, but his bottom pair is kinda what people with polycoria has. Except it's normal for him, and not really a condition. His vision is normal, he just has lotsa peepers.

2. If the MC suddenly goes out alone and doesn't come back by midnight, will Mychael worry about the MC and will he go looking for the MC?

Yes? He didn't save you just to have you running off into danger again. He'd absolutely track you down and find you.

3. How does Mychael feel about piercings and tattoos? Does he know about it? If so, would he like a piercing/tattoo?

He knows about it, but not enough to really understand how it works! He finds it fascinating humans decorate their bodies with shiny beads and jewels, and turn their skin into tapestries for art. He'd probably assume you can take them off any time and that the tattoos are drawn onto the skin.

I don't imagine he'd want a piercing, but he'd probably try a tattoo! (Until he realizes it's ink going under the skin, in which case he might change his mind haha)

4. I wonder where Mychael gets things for the house. Where did he get them???

He has his ways ::-)

5. How would he react if he saw me?

He wouldn't be reacting much to how you look. You're not the first human he's seen! He's been around plenty of them, but you'd be one of the few he's interacted with the longest. And that's what makes you stand out more than anything else.

Phew that was a big ask!! But thank you for the interest :-D!! Hope everything's good in Latvia!

#mushroom oasis vn #mychael ask #cheea chatter #bts

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