#St Pavlov Foundation

[ihaveforgortoomany]

For Peace of Mankind: analysis of the nature of Foundation and its similarities to Manus Vindicate

It doesn't take long for us to realise the morally grey nature of the Foundation and the scope of power it has. Arguably the aims of the Foundation place it no better than Manus Vindicate in their goals as the future and "peace" they champion is founded on ideas around limitation and control.

(This is an essay just exploring how the Foundation does have alot in common with the Manus)

The Foundation

Its interesting how early on the game establishes Vertin's independence to the actions of the Foundation, seeking out Regulus and attempting to help her against the wishes of the Foundation knowing that if Regulus had been dragged by Sonetto to be registered she would have likely been taken by the Storm.

Tbh we can be here all day listing the problems of the Foundation (experiments on children and the manipulation of a 12 year old, constant pressure on arcanists to register, everything about Laplace as an institution especially with the Mesmers, Zeno with Rayaskhi and why is Lilya already a functioning alcoholic at 14) but here I'm placing emphasis on the aim of the Foundation.

Sure they at least aim to stop the Storm (Marcus in Chapter 6 "at least the Foundation are trying to stop it but you're speeding it up") but in terms of relations between humans and arcanists, the goal seems less pure.

Chapter 6 establishes that humans do not benefit in anyway from the continuing Storm, the Foundation is an organisation primarily run by humans and yes there are both humans and arcanists in the Foundation that seek to work together to end the Storm - it seems more like returning to a previous status quo in 1999 than improving and moving forward to the future.

Thematically and narratively the Foundation is dogmatic, the "born to die martyrs" line doesn't paint a positive image of the Foundation. The institution of the SPDM seems to aim to control the future of arcanism in children, where censorship and suppression with knowledge is commonplace. The idea of the "rational" human and "emotional" arcanist is continuously hammered down by the Foundation and Laplace.

(Im not equipped at all to talk about mental health but it is questionable how the Foundation/ Laplace deal with it, Vertin's induce coma used as a political manoeuvre to isolate suitcase fam under the pretence of "extreme trauma" (yes there is an orchard of trauma but the timing is suspicious) and the whole story of Scot Mesmer in Three Doors)

The Manus

We already know there is a chess motif in the designs of the Foundation, the checkered designs on clothing and Constantine's need to one up a child in a game of chess.

The colours of both fractions are presented as opposing but more interesting is how the normal foot soldiers of both sides wear headgear that obscures the eyes (the Foundation staff headpiece thing and the Manus mask).

This can be interpreted as how neither fraction as a whole look to the future or moving forward but instead to a ideal period of time: the Manus the "garden that doesn't exist" and the Foundation "peace of mankind" or to whatever the status quo was in 1999. They are two sides of the same board.

Am I saying Vertin might break away from the Foundation eventually? No I don't think so, both are aligned in goals to stop the Storm. However thematically and narratively its fascinating how the Foundation has been set up as a complex institution we do not wholly trust but regardless root for in the game.

[stari-hun]

woah... I saw someone else's post about how he seems to have some sense of care for Vertin. But woah... woahj. The previous comments on checking up on Lopera and Anjo Nala's status before his only negative comment being about Zeno's actions is... jarring. Complicated feelings cause those are the actions of a responsible adult, but this is the Foundation, and HE is in charge.

Also his and Constantine's .... odd, dynamic. It's giving the worst possible timeline of relationships here. It is NOT lost to me that Constantine has a note about PRIDE over bringing him interesting news. The same kind of preening under acknowledgement that we've seen in Sonetto. The ONLY show of any modicum of guilt over what she did in Book 4 being because HE brought it up as a flaw. He implies it's a flaw and shame on her record, and she takes it as that without any comment. Is this who she got it from?? How much of Constantine's actions are her own warped sense of justice and efficiency, and how much is modeled off of the President's own actions? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE.

[critcrockett]

“May the peace be with us.”

[yuellii]

could you maybe write something with zima/зима :3? i loved your writings with neuvilette!!!!

“ Now... now I'm going out for a walk... The moonlight is... beautiful... It's good for writing... Maybe... you should try to write a poem too. ” — zima / gn reader

There’s a particular silence in the air in which you have yet to get accustomed to; but for Zima, it was his comfortably preferred state of existence.

He does not speak a word to you in the middle of this cold expanse, the top of his cheeks a snowy pink hue as the bottom half of his face is buried warm under the top of his coat. This old, stone bridge was icy, yet it was glimmering under the brilliant moonlight. A mere simplicity his eyes followed—from the cracks of stone to the sightless ocean, from the ocean to the cloudless sky, and from the sky to the lonely moon. A serenity that encompassed nature; also only a serenity that encompassed you.

You, who encompassed his blanking mind of ethereal solace no poet could ever portray.

Due to his nature of silence, though it does not register to him—perhaps it does not occur to you how lines and lines of the prettiest sentences form in his head just at the sight of you, nor the penmanship inking the inner folds of his sleeves. They were stained with all the words he can think of to describe you, and all the rhyming lines that rivaled you to the royalty and to the heavens. He was quite dramatic at heart… But you didn’t need to know that.

No, not when he can barely form words around you. Not when sometimes, he has too many words to say and he cannot speak a single one of them. Not when you cloud his thoughts with foreign phrases—so admirably, and so helplessly lovestruck in analogy—he can’t even begin to try and translate to English. And so he keeps his mouth shut under his coat, choosing a silence he knows so well.

He sees you stop at the top of the bridge from his peripherals, halting in his steps to join as you stare out into the moonlit ocean. You were just as cold as he was—he could see it in the crinkle of your eyes; but when your head leans to rest on his arm, there’s a beating of his heart that makes him feel warmer than a fire.

“Are you cold?” you ask, gently like the brushing waves below.

“…No.”

It’s so artful, painfully woven like ribbon around his eyes, like he’s blinded by your brilliance in rivalry to the moon. Any poet would kill for a muse like you.

Yet, he still can’t find the words.

Maybe one day, he’ll be able to ink something. Maybe one day, his pen will be able to form something as beautiful as you are. But for now, in this present moment ( from the moon, to the stars, to the ocean, and to the ever-gleaming ice framing perfectly around the Earth ), even all nature were utterly minuscule to the way he thought of you.

🕰️ ;; thankyew anon for liking all my neuvillette fics because i hope they are clear to show how absolutely deranged and delusional i am over him ( insanity )

[hemiiarts12345]

Imagine after the mission in Vienna, Marcus and Hofmann get to the hq safely and the foundation gave them a week off and they have mother daughter bonding in the beach (read the first word again)

I think Hofmann would like fishing, Idk she gave off that vibe, just resting on a sunny day waiting for them fish

God I miss Hofmann

[stellar-skyy]

Hellooo!! May I please request Зима as a lover? Just sweet fluff with how he caught feelings, how he expresses his love, silly things about him, headcanons, etc. I hope this wasn't too confusing and I'm super sorry if I broke one of the rules, you can just ignore this if I did. Thank you so much nevertheless!!

WINTER ADRIFT — Zima x reader.

i. SUMMARY: Zima as a lover. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: Fluff, so fluffy, headcanons, gn!reader, 0.7k words. iv. A/N: Hiii anon!! I was really happy to write this, I love this silly little man. Thank you for the request! ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ

Zima is a very serious looking person. He doesn’t smile often, his words are few and far between, and when he does speak it is quiet and under his breath.

Despite this somewhat intimidating appearance, Zima is a very soft person at heart. He adores his little bird, his notebooks filled with scribbled poetry and other writings, and of course you. 

You, who appeared in his life as quickly as rainfall, bringing a certain light that he’d never experienced before. You, who split his life into two: the Before, and the After.

Before, he was a lonely poet wandering the Far East, with no one but wild animals to keep him from complete isolation. There was only his bird, his poems. It was a quiet life, one that let loneliness seep in far too quickly for his liking, but it was predictable and calm.

And then came the After. Before, he didn’t mind the solitude. But After—After, he couldn’t bear it, because he’d finally gotten a taste of what it was like to not be alone.

Zima’s days turned from sitting still for hours, writing diligently in his notebook, to walking alongside you through trees, watching the snow fall against his windows together, and baking bread in a kitchen far too small for two.

He fell for you very quickly, even if it took a while for him to realize it. It was only when he reflected upon his notebook and its contents, and noticed the sheer amount of writings dedicated to you. He doesn’t quite focus on his work after he’s penned it, so it was easy enough for the poems to be composed and then tucked away into his mind without realizing how many of them were a reflection on his feelings towards you.

By the time the two of you were properly together, he had already written enough to spill the contents of his heart ten times over.

He’s a very early riser, so he always ends up waking up before you. When he wakes up, he likes to look over at you; to watch your chest rise and fall in a careful rhythm, and observe the way your lips slightly part with every puff of breath. He’ll brush a hand over your forehead first, moving any loose strands of hair out of the way, before pressing a quick kiss to it.

Physical affection isn’t easy for him—in fact, he’s rather shy about it. He would prefer to hold your hand or chastely kiss your cheek rather than be overly affectionate, but if you ask for a hug or kiss, he won’t refuse.

(He gives amazing hugs. Just tight enough to feel secure without being restricting, and warm enough to keep away the winter chill.)

Even if he wants to shower you in sweet words and compliments, he isn’t flawless in the language and sometimes his speech fails him. Talking out loud is more difficult than writing, so the loving compliments he does give you are to be treasured.

Instead of words, he leaves you with gifts. A poem, dedicated to you. Wildflowers, picked from the snow and tied together with a ribbon. Baked foods, each more delicious than the last.

He’ll spend hours with you, not talking, just existing in the same space as him. If you sit with him long enough, you’ll be able to hear quiet mumbles under his breath as he becomes fully absorbed in his writing.

He knew he loved you as soon as the animals became as comfortable around you as they were around him. It began with his bird, who despite being all but glued to his side ever since they had met, decided to land on top of your head and settle in your hair. Next came the rabbits, and the ferrets, and then all of the rest of the creatures.

Those animals were his companions, his friends. It was inevitable they would love you just as much as he did, and seeing them warm up to you so quickly was only further proof that you were the one for him.

Seeing you sitting there, with his bird nestled into the crook of your neck, a fox curled on your lap and an elk resting at your side…

He can’t think of a moment where he’s felt more content.

“Hmm? What are you smiling about?”

“Ah… it is nothing… you simply look… perfect."

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[foreverwewait]

“.. your hat is tilted.”

that was the first thing click had said when he had seen you, and that was all that left his mouth, at first. taken aback, you flipped around to face the disembodied voice and almost fired back a quip — almost, until you realized there was not a hint of animosity in the way he looked at you; no, only a genuine desire to help.

he blinked at you, once, twice, eyes flitting from your hat to your face and back again. you took note of his hands, blurry and gray; the way they inched towards his camera for a split second before dropping back down, as if his fingers had a mind of their own and wished to capture even such a mundane moment as this. (this was something you’d come to know as time went on, and with it you would realize it was not as mundane as you thought.)

you dipped your head. your fingers flitted to the brim and adjusted it — once, twice, to the side and a bit forward, back a quarter of an inch. he nodded, then chased off the gesture like it was a critter with a quick “that’s good.”

you turned to face him. his hands finally came to rest on his camera, and he raised it to one eye and closed the other. he did not ask you to smile. you did regardless.

[fruit-kick]

the foundation offers arcanists the right to exist as long as they follow the foundation as martyrs, while manus offers humans the right to exist as long as they follow them as monsters. neither side is looking for equality. st pavlov seems like it, but their relationship with arcanists is conditional and controlled. their goal is less "humans and arcanists living together in harmony" and more "lessen the threat and utilize the power of arcanists for humans"

its easy to think of the foundation as the hero since we're experiencing the story as a member; surrounded by other members taught by the foundation, but at some point, it becomes clear they're not interested in the lives of arcanists

[reynasdream]

THE ICE THAT SCRAPED AGAINST OUR FEET

⤷ pairing: the fool x reader

⤷ content: reader is gender-neutral with no specified pronouns, established relationship, fluff, reader is said to be a dancer but it isn't really discussed on, use of the terms "dear", " my dearest", and other stuff like that, a single mention of puking but it doesn't actually happen

⤷ word count: 0.4k+

⤷ synopsis: the fool asked you to perform with them!...in a way you didn't expect but couldn't possibly refuse.

⤷ note: written for the advent event of the st. pavlov foundation, my prompt is "ice"! had so much fun writing this oml

⤷ taglist: @julestotaldrama

taking your hand, the fool grinned as they glided you against the frozen lake. your heart rate was increasing, yet the fool's touch eased your feelings ever so slightly. your gaze flickered from the fool's hands to the ground, and back to their hands.

the feeling of their hands intertwined with yours made the heat flow to your cheeks, despite the cold weather. you looked at the fool, their face still concealed by their mask, yet you could tell they were grinning ear-to-ear.

their skates moved smoothly against the ice, contrasting to the jagged movement of yours. your breath hitched and you swore your heart skipped a beat as the fool suddenly placed their hands on your waist and lifted you up. you yelped, looking down at them. however, they still kept a wide smile on their face.

"needn't worry, dear!" the fool spoke, spinning you around in the air. you didn't know what to do, but you hoped that the fool wouldn't let you go.

"hello, dear!~" the fool cooed in your ear. you turned your head to face them, tilting your head curiously. you gave them a small smile, returning the greeting.

"you are a dancer, correct, my dear?" the fool grinned. you sighed softly, asking them what they wanted. you knew if they asked an obvious question like that, they were asking for a favor.

"well, dearest, i was curious if you would care to join me in ice skating. needn't worry -- it is very similar to dancing!"

you would have regretted accepting their strange offer if they didn't promise to peck your face with soft kisses afterward.

they continued to spin you around, causing your vision to become hazy. thank god you hadn't eaten beforehand, or else you would have thrown up.

was ice skating always so intense?

the fool finally placed you back on the ground, yet leaving you no time to adjust to the level change as they let go of one of your hands and dragged you around the ice. they laughed and giggled, and you couldn't help but smile at them.

after spinning you around a couple more times (on the ground) they pulled you close to them suddenly, giving you a kiss on the lips. you stared at them, dumbfounded and breathing heavily.

"was that too harsh of a performance, dear?" the fool chuckled. you only gave them a glare, before wrapping your arms around their waist and pulling them into a tight hug.

[definesanity]

St. Pavlov punishment: Watch all of the Bee Movie.

[st-pavlov-foundation]

ST. PAVLOV FOUNDATION . . “THE FOUNDATION”

a sfw reverse: 1999 writer’s network.

✧ A COMPLETE GUIDE TO BRAVING THE STORM (how to join, rules) TIMEKEEPERS (staff) ARCANISTS (members)

[akutasoda]

'blizzard' - st. pavlov foundation’s winter celebration!

✩↛my entry towards @st-pavlov-foundation 'advent event'!

✩↛synopis - lilya never minded snow, yet she can't help complain when it gets in the way

✩↛warnings - gn!reader, fluff, wc - 528

lilya actually didn't mind snow. she grew up in russia afterall. she always enjoyed playing in the snow as a child and even when she began flying planes it never bothered her. during her early days as a pilot she always liked to push her luck and fly during snowfall regardless of what others thoughts as she thought it was fun.

she thought it was a great challenge. but then she actually started caring on the condition of her planes and realised it wasn't that good for them and stopped. not entirely however. ever so often of she was bored enough she would sneak into the cockpit and go for a fly.

and while the snow never caused issues, it was blizzards that really annoyed her. blizzards meant she couldn't fly for atleast a couple of days depending on how severe. especially during the winter, she hated those the most.

she was pacing up and down by the window to the door, dressed and ready to head outside - not as if she could however. you simply observed for a bit from the living room before turning your attention elsewhere. this was now the second day of a particularly harsh blizzard that effectively managed to snow you both in.

the snow was higher than the door outside and thus making it near impossible to leave. you didn't really mind as it was meant to clear in a maximum of three days but you knew lilya thought much different. she had been itching to finally go for a fly especially because she promised to show you a spot she found.

she stilled for a moment before commenting 'are you sure i can't find another way out?'

you simply hummed in response, attention elsewhere. she would have to calm eventually right?

'if you keep focusing on the snow it'll only get worse' you tired convincing her. and without your attention wavering she threw herself onto the spot next to you.

'aren't you bored of staying inside all this time?' she inquired as she starred at the ceiling.

another hum from your end made her huff. you knew she hated blizzards but there really wasn't much to do. so you simply took her hat and placed it to your side before opening your arms in attempt to coax her into your embrace.

she took the initiative and positioned herself to stare out the windows - although the snow covered more than half as the wind battered the rest. you brushed a few strands out her face before commenting 'if you settle and let the blizzard pass, i promise you can take me wherever for a flight'.

while she nearly did anyway, she seemed to perk at this and very happily obliged seeing as she had also caught wind of weather reports. after a short while of comfortable silence you finally commented with a smile to try and distract her 'i still don't understand how you wear practically the same outfit for flying regardless of the weather, especially winter'.

[stari-hun]

“She’s gonna be a spoiled princess!”

St Pavlov’s Foundation, only second to Zeno in mass producing child soldiers:

[doodles-kit]

Random stuff, [Ft. Tactician]

[New character unlocked]

Tactician is my friend's character, and since she's the one who got me into Rev 1999, along with starting the creation of TypeWriter. It's fair that they're going to be a huge part of my posts.

Written text:

Tactician: I will be "babysitting" the both of you from now on.

TypeWriter: WHAT!!?

Horropedia: I think you mean "supervising", right Ms. Tactician?

Tactician: No... Babysitting

BONUS

Written Text:

Tactician: "The reason you hate physical contact even tho you're extremely touch deprived. Is because it's been so long since you felt loving physical contact from another person that you think it's a threat."

[Yeah I got this from a meme]

[Oh yeah. A little fact: Tactician is a Human and she's in the House of Integratus.]

[yuellii]

“ Would I have the honor to invite you for dinner? There's a banquet held by someone I don't know. I'd say it would be lavish of us if we don't enjoy it. ” — tennant / gn reader

“A rose for you,” she presents. And that slow, deep rumble of her voice sends a shiver that stirs your attention.

There is a tremor in such a thing, one that overshadows your body when she leans standing over your chair. Perhaps it was her hat, and the way it hovered over your heads; Or perhaps it was the large coat hanging off her shoulders, and how it created this air of mystery around her figure. But even a tremor so lightweight caused you to nearly choke on your drink when she presents you such a fresh rose out of nowhere.

“Tennant,” you name, though it was not your intent to carry slight distaste in your voice. Similarly, you couldn’t help but lean back against your chair to avoid her close proximity. “I don’t believe you were invited here at tonight’s banquet.”

She hums. “I see you aren’t one to fall for lowly, cheap tactics, my lord,” she says disappointedly, yet there is an baritone of amusement that flows through the air of her lips. “I thought that surely, you’d be flattered enough to allow me as your plus-one. What can I do to please you, should roses not suffice? Another drink? Perhaps a diamond?”

Along her string of words, she finds her place on the seat next to yours at the banquet table. Ah, that cannot do. These seats were already reserved before the event, and it was only a matter of time until the rest of your table attendees arrived as well.

“The people here,” you sighed, “They’ll no longer fall for your trickery, I fear.”

A refusal enough on your part—you could only hope she got the message. Her offers of wealth and of diamonds were only scams, and you came to know that very well. But when she merely scoffed, you only groaned to remind yourself just how persistent this mad woman can be.

( Especially, with you. )

“I’m shocked!” she expresses with a dramatic hand over her heart. There is a feigned hurt in her voice, but the way she holds back a smirk is very apparent. “Would you really think so lowly of me?” And at this, she leans closer to you by the dimly lit table side, feeling all-the-more suffocated at her nearing proximity. Damn this woman. “A kind gentleman would not bestow any trickery,” she says, as if you’ve spoken the most absurd words in the world. “And I believe that I am above a gentleman who would offer fake diamonds, wouldn’t you agree?”

You roll your eyes. “Asking me to agree with you is like asking me to marry a corrupted congressman.”

She smiles, attractively so. “This is why I like you…” her voice trails. She tilts her head, leaning it downwards to the side and then looks up at you. “You’re a glowing luxury”—her words are muttered with barley contained excitement, practically breathless—“perfect for deceiving the likes of this greedy, greedy nobles around us.”

There is a question left unspoken in the way she gazes so enticingly at you; half lidded eyes glowing red under the expensive lighting of this banquet. She was a feat of her own, already breaking into here in the first place. And now, she just needed you to officially invite her as your plus-one invitation. The best thing you could do was refuse her. But unfortunately, she has seemed to figure out your weakness by now.

“Stand up,” you sighed. “Let’s go get your ticket.”

There is a winning smile on her face.

When she stands, she moves forth to offer her arm to you. With the way you so naturally hold onto her, she feels a confidence at her confirmed guess: It was not a desire for roses, or diamonds, or any material thing that would win over your favor.

Rather, it was Tennant herself.

She grins to herself. Oh, she hopes she doesn’t break your poor heart.

[rainswept]

working on something that will probably never see the light of day.. BUT IT LOOKS SO NICE i’m so sad.